#raindrop pendants

[seospicybin]

SATURN.

Hyunjin x reader. (s,f,a)

Synopsis: Realized that Hyunjin's true love will always be his art, you decided to move on with your life to only cross path with him once more. (6,7k words)

Author's note: Don't say I didn't warn you!

Black and blue.

Hwang Hyunjin had been painting his canvas with those two colors, black and blue, and the hues in between.

"What are you painting?" You asked as you took a little break from your painting to see him working, at how he immersed himself in it, becoming one with his art.

"I dream my painting and I paint my dream," he responded with the Van Gogh quote he always uttered to you whenever you ask almost the same question every other day.

Or to be exact every Saturday afternoon.

You took a painting class because it had always been your hobby since you were a teenager. You love it simply because it's relaxing to you and you feel a little more alive when you paint. Many people said you have a talent for it and a lot more people had coaxed you to make your hobby into a career but you opposed the idea.

That would be a dream job, of course, doing something you love and making money out of it.

But sometimes, your hobby should stay as a hobby, or else it wouldn't give you the same excitement as it used to and ruin the experience for you.

You prefer working a normal job to make money and do something you love once a week, that was more than enough for you.

For Hyunjin though, it's a whole different thing.

Painting is more than just a hobby, something he does once a week or to pass time, it's his life. He believes it's what makes him, him.

He does it because it's the path he chooses for him, to be a painter and to be acknowledged by people as one.

He has the talent his skill is above everyone in the class and you believe the only reason he attended the class is nothing but to paint more.

You wouldn't say you knew him, you didn't know each other apart from you always sitting next to each other and chatting a little during class. You weren't that close to being considered as friends, well acquainted was more like it.

"See you next week!" You say to each other after class and after that, you went to your respective homes. It was never more than that.

Except on that one rainy day in spring.

It wasn't like you have anything to do for the rest of the day, you decided to wait for the rain to stop by sitting on the big windowsill with the raindrops tapping against the glass.

You took out your sketchbook and pencil case when Hyunjin came then sat at the other end of the windowsill.

"It's a spring rain," he said, also taking out his sketchbook.

"What are you going to draw?" You asked and regretted asking because you could guess what his answer would be.

"You," he shortly replied.

You pursed your lips, guessing if he was joking or not.

"And I'll draw you!" you said back and not getting any complaints from him.

It was more like a challenge you put on yourself, you knew it would be hard to draw him, impossible even. He's so beautiful, his facial features are sharp yet delicate, God must have taken his time creating him, making him the most beautiful human you ever laid your eyes on.

"Beautiful necklace!" He beamed.

You glanced up from your drawing when he already looked down at his drawing, your hand flew to your necklace, rubbing the pendant between your thumb and index finger, "thanks, it's a family heirloom."

Since you were already looking at him, you looked at him intently, observing his face to catch something no one has ever seen on him or something subtle that people miss.

You leaned in close and he glanced up to find you staring at him, "what?"

You squinted your eyes and touched the faint mole under his eyes, "I didn't notice this before!"

You leaned back and continued drawing, trying to draw him as best as you could, trying not to at least, made a disappointing drawing of him.

When the rain turned into drizzle, you finished drawing him or what you thought is the best drawing you could ever do of him.

"I'm finished!" You said, looking at him who was still deep in concentration with a crease formed between his eyebrows.

He flipped his sketchbook shut and looked up at you, "let me see!"

You hesitated to hand it to him, your finger fiddling with the spine of your sketchbook, gripping it tightly.

He held out his hand at you, long fingers adorned with rings reaching out at you.

"Let me see!" he said again.

You reluctantly gave your sketchbook to him, getting a little anxious as he took it and flipped it to the drawing you did of him.

His fingers trailed the paper as if he was touching his face, feeling every stroke of your pencil on it.

"I'm not good at doing portrait drawing," you quickly told him, giving him an explanation even though he was quiet the whole time he looked at your drawing.

Then he ripped the paper out of your sketchbook and put the drawing in his book, "I'll take this!"

Your eyes widened in surprise, "You have to pay for that!" You joked.

He roughly shoved his sketchbook into his bag, "how about dinner?"

"Huh?" You got confused by his answer.

"I'll pay it with dinner," he said again then got down from the windowsill.

You were joking, you didn't think that he would take it seriously. Then you checked the time on your phone and it was hardly five pm, "but it's too early for dinner."

He shrugged and hoisted his bag higher on his shoulder, "do you have something else to do?"

Would it be embarrassing to tell him that you don't have anything to do on a Saturday night? Or every Saturday night for that matter?

"I don't have any plans... no," you settled with a simple answer.

"Okay then, let's go!" He offered his hand to help you get off the windowsill.

The rain has stopped completely when you walked out, he asked where you live so he could think of a place to eat somewhere in the area.

It was the most personal thing he ever asked you and he did it for your convenience.

"Where do you live?" You asked back since he asked yours and it was appropriate to ask for his as well.

"I live downtown," he vaguely answered while swiping his card to enter the subway station.

There were a lot of eyes looking your way, but when you looked twice, they were actually on Hyunjin. You understood that he's pleasant to the eyes, it would be hard to not glance his way.

When you looked at him though, he looked unbothered and you thought he must be so used to this.

He grabbed the strap of your bag and pulled you to the side as someone walked past you.

"What about noodles?" He asked.

"Hmm?" Your mind was elsewhere a few minutes ago and then he asked you out of the blue.

"Noodles for dinner?" He asked again.

You squinted your eyes at him, "Come on, my drawing isn't that bad! I think I deserve meat for dinner," you teased him, nudging his shoulder and earning a small smile from him.

He squinted his eyes as well and considering your offer, put an arm around your shoulder to keep you close in the crowded train in the early evening on a Saturday.

"I wouldn't say it's bad but—"

"I was joking. I'll take anything for dinner!" You quickly told him, hoping he didn't take your joke seriously again.

The train stopped at your station and he let go of your shoulder to hold your hand, leading you out of the train.

"How about both?" He asked, still holding your hand as you both climbed the stairs out of the station.

You turned your head at him and squinted, "did you read my mind?"

To wait until dinner time, you stopped by a bookstore where he recommended you his favorite novel and in return, you recommended him a book from your favorite poet. That ended up with you buying a copy for him.

"I already have a copy at home so please take it!" You pushed the book to his chest and he looked at it, having no other choice but to accept it.

"Thank you!" He muttered.

By the time dinner was served, you were already hungry, famished even. It seemed like Hyunjin was the same that nobody talked but kept stuffing your faces with food.

At one point, you both looked at each other and burst out laughing at how ridiculous you looked.

You took a stroll around the park after dinner while sipping iced coffee and enjoying the cool night air after a rainy day.

"Let's sit there!" Hyunjin pointed to the steps overlooking the river.

You followed him by sitting on the step next to him and staring up at the night, at the stars hiding behind the grey clouds.

"I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day," he said, putting his drink down next to his feet.

"Yeah?" You weren't sure about his remarks but everyone has their view about everything, it's not about right or wrong.

"Do you also paint at night?" You asked out of curiosity.

"Not always," he answered.

He looked up at the starry night and sighed, "but seeing the stars like this makes me dream."

It's so rare to find someone like him, who openly romanticize his life and is not ashamed of it, not a bit. It made you curious of what it would be like to see the world through his eyes.

"When people look at your painting, what do you want them to feel?" You asked again, purely out of curiosity.

That question got him quiet, he didn't think that you would ask a such question out of the blue. He had no answer for that, not yet.

You understood that maybe he wasn't expecting it and you quickly came up with another question.

"Can I have your drawing of me too?"

He sipped his drink and stalled, "I'm not finished yet."

You clicked your tongue at him, "don't even dare to ask for dinner when you give it to me," you joked again.

"That's fair!" He said.

Since the stars were disappearing behind the thick clouds, you took it that it was going to rain again and decided to go home.

Hyunjin insisted on walking you home no matter how many times you told him that it was only a few blocks away from the park.

It was starting to drizzle again when you arrived at the front of your apartment building, "thank you for dinner!"

"I wasn't treating you to dinner. I paid for your drawing!" He corrected.

You softly chuckled in response and stopped walking with Hyunjin also stopped on his track.

"You'd better get home fast, I think this going to turn into a big rain," you suggested.

He didn't answer but kept staring at you, making you flustered standing there right in front of him. You hurriedly thought of something to say to not let it be awkward, "see you next week!"

"See you next week!" He said back then took a step closer, opening his arms to hug you.

You opened your arms as well in reflex and hugged him back, he feels so warm and comfortable, like a spring morning.

"Goodnight!" You told him while pulling away from the hug.

He let go but put his hand on your neck, without warning, giving you a peck on the lips. Strangely, the kiss felt natural like you've done it a thousand times already while in fact, it was long overdue. Yet it felt so good, so right, better than the ones you imagined in your silly little daydreams.

He let go of the kiss and then looked at you, his thumb tenderly caressing your cheek in a slow, circular motion.

"Goodnight!" He muttered with a voice so low it was almost like a whisper.

You nodded because you didn't know what to say, your brain was failing to form a verbal response for him. You waved your hand at him instead then went inside.

It took twice the time it usually takes you to climb the stairs to get to your unit with a hand touching your lips, the lips that touched Hyunjin's lips and kissed.

It was the kiss that distorted your reality, turning it upside down and proved you that time is indeed relative, a week felt like a year when all you could think about is when your lips will reunite with his again in a rapturous, enamoring kiss.

Every week it was him holding your hand, taking you places and discovering new ones, making each other laugh and smile, while everybody else could only be jealous of you.

For one day in a week, he snatched you from real life and into his world, where you could see everything through his rose-colored lenses where everything looked enchanting and beautiful, for that one day he made you feel like you're living in a fairytale.

It was raining one night and you both ran to the nearest building to take shelter from the rain.

He removed the wet strands of hair stuck to your face from the rain while you were giggling and panting at the same time from running. He put all of the hair behind your ear and held it there, planting a soft kiss on your lips, he tasted like roses in the rain.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

He pulled you into a hug and put his jacket around you, wrapping you in the warmth of his embrace where you rested your head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, drinking in his scent of creamy vanilla and sunshine and... freshly cut flowers?

Then you realized that you were standing right outside a florist shop and saw buckets of flowers on display inside the shop, colorful and delicate, blossoming even after the sun had gone for the day.

Hyunjin noticed that you were looking at the flowers, "should we buy some?"

You shook your head, "I don't like flowers."

He jerked his head away, probably because it was the first time he heard someone say it, "Why?"

"Because they wither and eventually die," you replied.

You looked up at him, "if you want to gift me something, I expect something that lasts for a long time."

He raised one of his eyebrows, puzzled.

"You know... like gold, diamonds, company stock!" You joked.

He looked the other way, at the night sky that poured rain that was getting heavier.

"We're already close, if we ran, we might make it in 5 minutes," he said while taking his jacket off.

You laughed at how he didn't respond to your remark and changed the subject. Then he put the jacket on both of your heads and his hand held yours.

"Are we going to run through the rain?" You asked, thinking he wasn't really serious about the suggestion.

"We're already drenched anyway, what difference would it make?" He asked.

You looked down at your clothes and he was right, you were already soaking wet, a little more rain wouldn't be a problem.

"Come on! Run!"

The two of you ran and kept on running, you led the way while he kept you close with his hand clasped yours so tight, didn't care about the water splashing as you stepped on the puddles on the pavements.

The drops of water dripped down the end of your clothes as you climbed to your unit and Hyunjin followed you from behind, too busy catching his breath.

"The blue one or the black one?" You asked, letting him choose from the two bathrobes you have in the house.

"Black."

You handed him the one he chose and he didn't hesitate to take his clothes off right then and there, putting the clothes straight into the washing machine.

He stripped his clothes off until he was stark naked in front of you and unfazed by your presence. You knew you should be looking away, but you couldn't, you kept staring at him, at his lanky figure, dainty waist, the mass of his muscles, on his arms, stomach, and thighs, he was just perfect. 

In contrast to his calm, your heart was beating so loud, you believed he could hear it too.

He put his bathrobe on and turned to face you, "aren't you going to take your clothes off too?"

Your mind was adrift, it took you a minute for it to be back to your head, "huh?"

"Aren't you going to wash them too?" He asked again.

You swallowed hard, starting to get nervous, or maybe it was the cold that started to seep into your body. You took a deep breath and started by taking your shirt first, it was hard because the fabric stuck to your skin.

Like you weren't anxious enough, the button got stuck in your hair when you pulled it over your head, "Ouch!"

"Here, let me help you!" He offered, getting behind you to carefully untangle the hair.

There was a sudden rise in your body temperature and you thought that it was coming from the heat his body emitting, the kind of heat that you wanted to envelop your whole.

"There!" He said, letting you know he was done helping you with the crisis.

"Thank you!" You muttered, throwing the shirt into the washing machine.

Hyunjin sighed and turned away, "I'll make tea!"

You smiled because there was no way he would know where to get anything in your kitchen but he did it so you can have some privacy to take the rest of your clothes off.

Hyunjin managed to locate where you store the mugs and he was boiling some water, you quickly walked to the cabinet to get a box of teabags, then put one on each mug.

"I hope you like a lemon balm!" You said.

Hyunjin carefully poured the boiling water into the mugs and let the tea brew, you helped by dumping the teabags until you saw his soaked bag on the dining table.

"Oh no!" You rushed to spill the contents of his bag, knowing that he got a sketchbook in there and afraid they would get damp, ruining all of his artwork.

You saw the book you bought him and there was a bookmark between the pages, "you're reading it!"

"Of course, you bought it for me!" He casually said while carrying the mugs of tea to the dining table.

You got touched, and you bought it as a gift but knowing that he read it meant so much more to you, that meant he treasured it, cherished a gift you gave, and probably got a grasp on why you like it so much.

It was comforting to have him in the apartment, just sitting and having tea with him, the rain had stopped but the night was not yet ended.

You wanted him to stay for as long.

"Will you stay the night with me?" You blurted out your thought, fingers gripping the handle of the mug so tightly.

"What makes you think I have another plan?" He asked back after sipping his tea.

You didn't know why everything felt so natural with him like you'd done it thousands of times already, how easily he entered your life without making you feel you were being invaded.

"You have so many books," Hyunjin said, pointing to the stack of books on the bedside table.

"I read when I can't sleep," you elaborated.

Hyunjin took a copy of the same book you bought him and flipped it open, finding the poem you marked with a flower sticker.

"That's my favorite one!" You elaborated.

He gave you the book, "Read it to me," he requested, shifting on the bed to face you.

"I don't know, I'm not sure–"

You reluctantly took it from him, conflicted about whether to fulfill his request and let him know you suck at reading poems or disappoint him straight away by not doing it.

"You only need to read it," he said.

"Okay then I'll just read my favorite part," you caved in then held the book a bit higher to provide you the right angle to read it.

You cleared your throat before you start reading.

"I didn't want any—" you paused to glance at him if he had a second thought.

He responded with a nod, telling you to continue.

You continued reading and restarted it from the beginning, 

"I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted

To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.

How free it is, you have no idea how free—

The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,

And it asks for nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.

It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them   

Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet."   

You immediately closed the book before he asked you to continue.

"That's it!" You said but didn't dare to look his way, it was embarrassing enough to have him listen to you reading him a poem, and the silence that hung in the room only amplified the awkwardness.

He gently grabbed your chin and turned your head to meet him, then he slowly leaned in to kiss your lips, so tenderly like you were a fragile paper doll.

You opened your eyes to find his staring into yours.

"You're achingly beautiful," he muttered and pressed a kiss on you again.

You could say the same about him, he's made of dreams and all of the heavenly things, a prince charming that is somehow trapped in this real, cruel world. He belongs in a fairytale yet he was there with you with his body molded perfectly into yours, held you close, protecting you from the nightmare that might invade your sleep.

But it was also his lonely hand that seeks yours and the kisses that found solace on your neck that woke you up.

You looked over your shoulder to have him capture your lips in a kiss, knocking the air out of you.

His free hand started to part open your bathrobe, exposing you to the night cool air, and raising the goosebumps on your skin. His hand was quick to raise your body heat with light, feather-like touches, making the butterflies in your stomach fluttering awake.

His fingertips left a trail of searing touch down your chest to eventually met your heating core and out of reflex, you shut your legs, feeling flustered.

"May I?" He asked, his plush lips grazing yours as he spoke.

You nodded, spreading your legs wide enough to let him touch you there.

A low gasp escaped your mouth the moment his hand made contact with your sex, delicately like he would touch a flower.

Hyunjin didn't hesitate to taste you with your essence coated his fingers, licking them clean.

That was so arousing and he was just as aroused, you could feel his erect member poking your rear.

"Let me make love to you..." he whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear.

"Yes, please," you responded, nodding so eagerly because when it comes to him, you lose your common sense and there was no use in pretending.

His hand parted your legs open once more and you helped by keeping your leg lifted to allow him access, to touch you more, tease your entrance with his swollen cock like you weren't drenched enough.

He kissed you so hard before putting all of his focus to push his length inside you, slowly and stopping just to make sure you were alright.

He kissed you in between your moans, "you're taking me so well," he hummed against your lips.

He placed his hand on yours, keeping your leg lifted together with you then pushed deeper until he fully buried inside you.

"Ah... perfect!" He sighed.

He kissed your lower lip and gently bit it, "you're so perfect."

Again, you could say the same thing, you could feel how hard and big he was inside you. You couldn't say anything but let out moans in response.

Hyunjin started moving, thrusting into you from behind, and in the middle, he lifted your leg higher, allowing him more space to move.

He pushed even deeper, hitting you in all the right spots that your body started to shake as pleasure bubbled up inside you.

"You're made for me," he murmured with his mouth on your shoulder.

"So perfect for me," he said again through his gritted teeth as he added more speed.

His other hand wrapped around you tight, fondling your breast in his hand, squeezing it hard knowing that you were so close to climax.

"Close... oh, close..." you breathlessly said, squeezing the hand that cupped your breast.

Hyunjin moved at an impossibly fast pace, hitting you right on the spot again and again until you come to your high, around him, in his tight embrace.

"So beautiful cumming around me like that," he sweetly praised you, putting your hair away to kiss you on the side of your face.

He thrust a few more times to eventually pull out, keeping his cock clamped between your inner thighs, and kept thrusting.

The least you could do was clench your thighs together for him, moaning with every friction he made between your slick inner thighs.

Even his moans are beautiful, low, and breathless like the sound of a gust of wind.

He grabbed your chin to sink his mouth on you again and you felt something trickling down your thigh, you sighed into his mouth knowing that he just came all over your thighs. 

He didn't let go of you yet, he held you tighter like he would float away if he didn't.

His hold was firm but his body was warm, his kisses turned tender as the night turned the darkest.

As much as Hyunjin makes the perfect prince charming, he's just as flawed as a human being. He has this notion that in order to be a great painter, every painting he made should turn out great, or at least, fit into his impossible standards of what a painting should be.

You witnessed it happening a couple of times, him being hard on himself, belittling his talent just because his painting didn't turn out the same as the one he envisioned in his head.

You stopped him from placing a big streak of black paint across his canvas, "I love it," you said.

You put his hand away, putting yourself between the painting and him.

"I love what you painted," you praised and took the paintbrush from him, joining it with your hand to not let him pick it up again.

Hyunjin said nothing but turned away, couldn't stand seeing his painting one more time.

"Let's just go home!" He said.

And by home, he meant your bed, your soft skin, and the beating heart inside your chest.

His hands painted your body with slow, gentle caresses. A canvas that was so divine he would only use the best colors but he couldn't think of any color that would match the blush on your cheeks.

He sure could get the color of his cum making streaks on your flushed body, pearly white glistening under the hazy afternoon light.

He placed kisses on your bare shoulder as you lay face down, "how are you so soft all over?"

You smiled in response, turning your head just enough to give him a quick peck on your lips.

Hyunjin took a pen lying on your bedside table and uncapped it, biting the pen cap between his teeth as he started to draw on your back shoulder.

You stayed still for him, watching him through the reflection in the full-length mirror, eyebrows knitted as he focused on the drawing he made on your skin.

After a few minutes, he finally stopped and capped the pen back. He rubbed over the skin to place a gentle kiss on it.

You didn't waste time to see what he was drawing, turning it to face the mirror and saw the drawing of flowers.

"They're not going to wither or die," he told you, placing his hand on your waist, not letting you out of his reach.

You turned to face him, "yeah but they'll be washed off when I shower tomorrow," you said.

"Then don't shower!" He joked, pulling you back to lie down on the bed again and hovering above you.

He kissed you so deep you got breathless even though the kiss only lasted for a few seconds. He then looked into your eyes, intensely yet they held sentimentality in them, "I'll make you a flower field," he promised.

You ran your hands up on each of his arms and joined them on the nape of his neck, "I'd love that."

Just like any fairytale, there was one thing that you shouldn't do, it could be pricking your finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel or one bite of an apple but for you, it was the one question that you should never ask: What are we?

There was this temptation to ask and the hope that things might turn out different from what you expected or it could be that, falling into a deep slumber and never waking again.

What you were having with him was nice, being with him, not having to name, it was all nice but the uncertainty of it all made you the slightest bit worried about what the future holds for you both.

And you wanted to be with him for as long and as far as this heart takes you.

What are we? You muttered in your head as you stared into his dark brown eyes.

Am I yours?

You asked in your head but didn't dare to let it out to the world, for him to hear.

Are you mine?

You turned over on the bed, having him pinned under you while you sat on top of him. Placing your hands on his chest to lean closer, you chose to bind him in another way.

"Promise me!" You dared him.

He got up to sit up, looking at you with unwavering eyes and long fingers trailing the shape of your jaw, "I promise."

You put your lips on him to mark his words and sealed the promise with a kiss.

It was crazy how you always crave his body, it was even crazier that he always cater to it. It was never just sex with him, it was making sweet, tender love together with him whereas you always felt so involved, in it together with him.

You bounced on his cock while he gripped your waist, guiding you, setting a pace to your movements. Your fingers clawed into his shoulders, crying in pleasure.

"You keep clenching around me," Hyunjin said between his soft grunts.

Not for one second, you thought of your pleasure, you did it for him, to please him. You took his mouth in yours and kissed him hard.

"I want you to cum inside me," you muttered.

He let go of your waist and put his hands around you, "You want me to cum inside?"

You nodded while looking at his face, a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead.

"Cum inside me," you said again before planting another kiss on his plump, red lips.

You continued moving, bouncing on his cock while he was still processing your request but he didn't get much time for the time that. You were getting him off, picking up the pace while clenching around him, smothering his cock in your tight, velvety walls.

"Gosh, you're so alluring..." he sighed.

You smiled at his praise and held his face in your hands, kissing him until he cum inside you. Hyunjin held you so tight as he buried his seed deep inside you that you found it hard to breathe.

You kept moaning, feeling his cock engorged and twitching inside you, his mouth sucked on your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark there.

His mouth eventually found yours and gave it a long, lingering kiss. When he pulled away, he kept his forehead pressed against yours, "you are..."

He paused to peck your lips, leaving your lips wet with his saliva, "you are my northern star."

The northern star, Polaris, a star that neither rises nor sets, a constant star in the dark of his sky and guides him when he's lost. Not the brightest star but holds such great importance to him. The only star that he looks up to when he needs his way home.

"You are my northern star," he muttered the praise again with a tender gaze.

When morning came, reality woke you up with the harsh truth that you couldn't stay in the fairytale too long. Hyunjin usually stayed for the rest of the weekend and never left without telling you. One day though, you sat on the edge of the bed, watching him sleep for a minute before leaving for work, looking at his sleeping figure with his back basking in the morning sun. You gently brushed his dark locks to the side and accidentally woke him up.

He caught your hand and held it in his, "why are you up?" He mumbled.

"Work," you shortly answered.

"You can stay as long as you want," you told him, rubbing the metal ring on his index finger with your thumb.

"Okay," he responded with a sleepy smile.

"I'll get going," you said.

He forced his eyes open to look at you and said, "Have a great day!"

Then he kissed your knuckles before letting you go, smiling even though his eyes were still heavy with sleep. When you came home, Hyunjin was already gone but you found a drawing of flowers stuck to your refrigerator door, there was a sign on the corner of the page, the initial H in a cursive letter.

And that was how you tried to survive another week with the promise that you get to relive that fairytale again. 

But the thick clouds cast a shadow on supposed to be a warm, sunny spring day. It wasn't the perfect lighting for an art class but everyone managed to paint something despite the gloom the day brought.

You were too immersed in your painting that you didn't realize Hyunjin barely started yet, he kept mixing paints on his palette but not a stroke of paint on his canvas yet, it was still pristine with no speck of paint on it.

Maybe he hasn't decided on what to paint yet so you left him alone, afraid that you might only disrupt his creative mind from working.

After a while, you glanced in his direction and saw that he had started painting. That put you at ease, knowing that he was just stuck on ideas and not what you thought it was, a creative block.

Then you heard a loud thud next to you, you saw that Hyunjin just dumped a whole jar of dirty water onto his painting, making the still-wet paints drip down the canvas.

"What's wrong?" You asked but you were too late to grab his hand and get an answer.

He roughly took his bag and left the class. Everyone else watched as he made his way out of the door and followed his figure until he was out of sight.

There were so many things crossing your head at that very moment, there was a part of you that wanted to run after him and asked what went wrong. But your feet stayed immobile and you froze there on your seat, deep down it was best that you let him be.

You started to doubt your decision when he didn't come to the art class the next week.

And the next week when the art class did a painting of sunflowers.

In the following week, his seat remained empty.

He didn't come on the next Saturday when it marked the first day of summer that promised brighter days ahead. You eventually stopped wishing that he'll be back and his absence told you so much about how much his presence meant to you and your presence to him, how the answers contradict each other.

You found yourself lying awake in bed at night, seeing the stars in the night sky then sighed. Hyunjin was right, seeing the stars makes you dream.

You woke up in the middle of the night to the knocking on your door and you trudged to open it, and found him behind the door with tired, sunken eyes.

You didn't ask him questions but took him to bed, lying next to him as he stared at the ceiling of your bedroom with hollow eyes.

After a moment, he took your arm out and made it a pillow for his head. He put his hand across your chest with his head nuzzled into your neck, "I want to touch people with my art..." he said.

You placed your hand on his and let him speak his thoughts out loud, "when people look at my paintings, I want them to say..."

Hyunjin took a sharp, deep breath before continuing, "he feels deeply, he feels tenderly..."

His voice was so low and broken, a picture of the state he was in, trapped in his own head, suffering from his ideas and having problems setting them free. Mostly, how tortured he was by his romantic ideal of what an artist should be.

"I know..." you said to him while squeezing his hand, assuring him that you were there and listening to him.

Hyunjin only let his heart open when he painted, he bleed through every brush of paint on his canvas, his love for his art is pure and unparalleled. He is what he paints, you can see the beauty of his paintings through the cracks of his fractured soul.

And for that, the world couldn't love him, a broken thing.

"This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you," you told him.

He exhaled a cold breath into your neck, "You're the only one who understands me."

That was also why he let you in because you were the only one who understands him, but not enough to figure him out.

It is the only way you know how to love him when all of the doors to his life are closed and he keeps his heart locked in a box.

Tears caught in your throat when you realized you weren't exactly in a fairytale, you were lost in the maze you put yourself in for trying to love him, a man whose true love is his art, not a person, not you.

"You're my northern star," he said again, tightening his hold around you.

You looked away, at the night sky through your bedroom window, and then it hits you, for when Hyunjin looked up at his sky, the first thing he would see would be the brightest star and it wasn't you.

He tenderly brushed his lips on your cheek while putting his arms around your body and closing the gap between your bodies.

His hand turned your face at him, "read me a poem," he softly spoke.

How could you think of any when all you could think about was how your love didn't make him whole, your love didn't feed him, he could and would survive without your love.

Ultimately, how much you love but it did nothing to him.

"Read me a poem..." he spoke again, his eyes were on you but he couldn't see how you were shattering from the inside.

You nodded and thought of something, despite the amplifying pain that numbed you from the inside. You got reminded of something, it wasn't a poem but a verse from a play you read once.

Hyunjin pressed his forehead to the side of your face with the tip of his nose poking your cheek, his hand clasped yours and rested on your stomach.

"Life is a flower, of which love is the honey," you began.

You stared up at the ceiling and inhaled air as it was getting harder to breathe when the truth kept weighing on you, "it's the dove and the eagle united in the sky."

You continued as he pressed another kiss on your temple, "it's a grace trembling at insistent force, it's your hand sweetly forgotten in mine."

You let the words hang in the air and seeped into the silence, let them become vain, like those three words which you decided to leave unspoken.

"Beautiful..." he sighed with a slow caress on your cheek then brought his lips onto yours.

He kissed and kissed while you swallowed it all down, further down until your feelings were buried deep in the pit of your heart never to let them out.

And the world was indeed never meant for one as beautiful as him.

While you learned that the world was never meant to be a fairytale.

-

A FEW YEARS LATER

How could you be this stupid?

Not realizing that your ring was missing until you looked down at your hand once you boarded the train that will take you home.

You managed to recall the last time you saw the ring, it was a moment before you checked out of the hotel you'd been staying in for the last three days.

The hotel insisted that one of their staff probably found it and forgot to report it to the hotel security, they told you so many excuses to stop you from going full-on hysterical about it.

The receptionist came up to you, "it might take a long time since we couldn't contact the staff on duty because of the change of shift," she informed.

The information only heightened your panic, making you even more anxious than before.

"I really need that ring back," you said with a trembling voice, holding your tears back from the fear of losing the ring forever.

"We're very sorry but we'll keep on trying to contact her and we'll do everything to get your belonging back," she explained, she was as just as panicked to see you on the verge of crying.

"No! You don't understand!" You didn't mean to snap at her like that and echo in the hotel lobby, it was almost midnight but there were still a few people going in and out of the hotel at that hour.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down then lower your voice, "that ring is precious to me," you said again with a suppressed, frustrated tone.

You felt the tears pooling in your eyes, "I have to get it back, it's a..." your words trailed off.

At first, you thought your brain deluded you into seeing him. When it registered that it was him, it felt like a dream... seeing him again after so many years, of all many places and times, he saw you again when you were scared shitless, a nudge away from bursting into tears.

From your peripheral vision, you saw him coming in your direction and you quickly swallowed your tears away.

"It's important, it's a... a family heirloom!" You finished before looking away, away from his line of vision.

"We understand the importance of your belonging, and we'll try our best to get them back for you, for now, please remain calm and we'll get back to you once we got an update," the receptionist furtherly explained then excused herself to get back behind the desk.

It was too late to hide yourself from being seen by him, so you looked down at your feet and hoped he would turn away from you even though that would be a betrayal of your heart's desire.

You felt his hand on your shoulder and you didn't dare to breathe until he turned you around.

"Hey," he softly greeted you.

There was no way he didn't recognize you, you already expected he would despite you being the one who saw him first and tried not to let him see you.

You hesitated to look at him, you knew what damage it would cause from just seeing his face.

Then again, you missed so terribly much so you looked up and met his eyes, "hey..." you croaked.

He tilted his head to the side and the hand that was on your shoulder moved to cup your face, "are you okay?"

His hand felt warm against your cheek, it was comfortable and safe.

You hated how you hard stacked your guard up so high only for him to knock it down easily with the simplest of his touch.

"I'm..." there was a lump caught in your throat, "I'm not okay," you finished and admitted it making the tears flow out of you.

Without further questions, he pulled you into a hug and let you cry into his chest, shielding you from the hurt of the world even for just a moment.

In the middle of the night, on the sofa of the hotel lobby, he saw you struggling to open a bottle of water and doing it for you at the end.

"Do they know where is it?" He asked as he sat on the sofa next to you.

"The staff who was on duty probably took it with her," you answered, fumbling to wipe the tears in the corner of your eyes with your knuckles.

"Do they call the police?"

You shook your head, "No, I don't want to make a big fuss. I just want to get my ring back," you told him the reason why.

"That means she stole it!"

You didn't need him to put it that way. You combed your hair to the back out of frustration, "I don't know," you sighed.

You kept your head down as he placed slow, soothing rubs on your back.

"I'll be back," he said, leaving you alone on the sofa.

That only gave you time to blame yourself, how could you be this reckless and lost such an important item?

You hadn't been in your right mind recently, you had a lot on your mind that you took days off from work, hopped on a train that took you out of the city, and stayed in the hotel for days.

All that just to try to put your mind off things but it did the opposite, you couldn't stop thinking about why things went wrong.

"Let's go!" He suddenly said with his hand stretched out at you.

You looked up at him with questioning eyes.

"I have the address of the housekeeper who took your ring," he explained, "let's find her there and get your ring back!"

Deep down, you knew that there was a big possibility that the ring had gone forever. With just one look, people would know how much that ring costs.

But you didn't want to give up on looking until you were a hundred percent sure it was really gone.

The streets were almost empty when you arrived at the neighborhood of the housekeeper's address. You climbed the stairs that took you to her apartment and rang the doorbell several times.

You tried knocking on the door as well but there was no answer.

You slumped against the wall, getting more hopeless the louder Hyunjin banged on the door.

The next-door neighbor probably heard it and poked his head out of his apartment door, an elderly with a balding forehead and grey hair.

"Are you looking for Mrs. Kim?"

You were the one who noticed him first, "yes, I'm looking for the person living in this apartment," you answered, pointing to the apartment number written on the address.

"She's probably still out but she'll come back soon," he informed.

You sighed, didn’t know where to start but you needed him to know how important it was for you to meet her.

"It's urgent, I need to see her as soon as possible. If you know any way to contact her, can you please tell me?" You asked.

The elderly man saw the desperation in you, then weakly smiled, "she'll be back soon," he said again.

"How do you know she'll be back soon?" Hyunjin asked this time, standing next to you facing him.

"Because her son is here with me," he answered with the same smile.

Hyunjin felt bad for being impolite to the elderly man, especially when he invited both of you to wait in his apartment and Mrs. Kim's son made you a cup of tea.

You looked around his place while sitting on the couch, he got an eccentric taste for an old man. There was a neon sign, an aquarium, a round table with a silky red tablecloth, and dried flowers hung on the wall.

"I have excellent taste in home decor, right?" He beamed at you.

You softly chuckled, feeling embarrassed to be caught by him, "No, I like it."

Mrs. Kim's son carefully placed two cups of steaming hot tea on the table in front of you then sat on the floor, working on his homework.

"I read people's cards for a living, dear," he explained, "I still take sessions but people rely everything on the internet nowadays."

"Ah!" You exclaimed.

"Have your teas, please!" He said to both of you.

You slowly lifted your teacup and brought it close enough to your mouth, blowing air on it before taking a small sip.

"You want me to read your cards?" He offered out of the blue.

You put your teacup back on the table, "Oh, no. I'm good," you kindly refused.

He waved you off, "please, it's not like I have an exciting thing to do," He pleaded.

You glanced at Hyunjin who was watching Mrs. Kim's son working on his homework and he glanced back at you with an eyebrow raised, hinting at you to accept the man's offer.

"Well, if it's not a bother," you said, relented.

"No, it's my pleasure, dear!"

He led you to sit on the chair facing the round wooden table with the silky red tablecloth while he sat across from you, then he took out a deck of tarot cards from a small drawer under the table.

"You know, this morning I did a quick reading of what my day would be and I got Page of Cups," he told you while shuffling the cards in his wrinkled yet agile hands, pretty much showing that he was experienced.

You smiled at him even though you didn't get the meaning behind his remark, you guessed it was a good thing since he said it in a happy tone.

He gave the deck of cards one last good shuffle then spread it on the table into a nice curve, the cards looked worn and slightly torn on the corner.

"Pick three cards!"

You took a deep breath, then stretched out your hand.

"Use your left hand and hover it along the card, then pick the card that speaks to your heart," he instructed as you switched your hand with the left one.

You did what he instructed you to do, hovering your hand above the spread of cards then picked the one that felt right and clicked in your heart.

He placed your three chosen cards in the middle of the table, then flipped the first one open.

There was a picture of a child passing a cup filled with flowers to another child then there are 5 other cups in front of them.

On the second card, a naked lady hovers above the earth surrounded by a green wreath.

And the last card shows a woman and a child in a boat being rowed in the water to a land that is on the other side.

The elderly man hummed as he observed the cards then nodded to himself.

You never really believed in this kind of thing but if any of the cards mean a bad thing, you were sure it affected you in a way.

"This," he pointed to the first card, "Six of cups, meaning that you've been thinking of memories, happy memories from the past," he explained.

"It could be of a thing, or a certain moment in your life or a person."

Your eyes unconsciously gazed in Hyunjin's direction and the elderly man noticed that subject of this particular card was him.

He nodded without saying anything.

"This is The World," he said, pointing to the second tarot card.

The naked woman holds a staff in each hand, she looks so divine that the creatures around her look up at her.

"But it's in reverse," he said.

Your heart skipped a beat, alerted that it might be a bad sign.

"Don't worry, it's not always bad," he comforted you.

"It means that there's a delay in your life or that you are seeking personal closure from something, halting you from going to the next cycle in your life."

He was merely reading your randomly chosen cards yet you felt so seen like he was reading through your mind and finding out everything you were trying to hide. Maybe this is why some people don't like having their fortunes read, it's like peeking into something you shouldn't be seeing in the first place.

"Don't be alarmed, dear," he said to you, he tapped his old, shriveled finger to the last card, "this last card shows a good turnout," he said.

"This is Six of swords," he elaborated, "you'll experience a transition of some kind, and it's a happy one without regret,"

A smile rose on your face, feeling relieved that your cards weren't as bad as you thought they would be.

"I'm glad to hear that," you honestly admitted to him with a sigh.

He smiled at you, then took your hands in his on the table, "Just remember, dear, in order to move forward, you have to leave something behind," he warned you with gentle eyes.

He squeezed your hands, then flashed you a comforting smile before letting go of your hands.

"Well, I hope that gives you enlightenment," he playfully said while laughing gathered all of the cards but left the last of your chosen card on the table.

"You left one," you told him.

"That one is for you," he said.

You tipped your head to the side, "for me?"

He nodded then placed the card on your open palm, "despite your sadness, you need to remember that moving on is the ideal option for your future," he said.

The words lingered like some motivational poster hung in the back of your head as you looked at the tarot card for a little while, then put it inside your bag.

You went back to the sofa and sipped your warm tea, glancing at Hyunjin who was so invested in helping Mrs. Kim's son with his math.

When your teacup was almost empty, that was when Mrs. Kim finally came knocking on the door and his son ran to open it for her.

She gave you a strange look as she got into the apartment and saw you sitting on the sofa.

"You're having guests, Mr. Lee?" She asked the elderly man.

"They're looking for you," he answered.

You quickly got up from the sofa and walked up to her, "Can I talk to you for a second, Mrs. Kim?" You politely asked her because you didn't feel great with his son listening in on the reason why you came for her late at night like this.

-

The truth was Mrs. Kim did take the ring with her, but since she was almost late for her second job, she forgot to turn it in to the hotel. It was indeed accidental, and you were glad that you didn't involve the police in the first place.

She thanked and apologized to you countless times until you were both back in Mr. Lee's apartment no matter how many times you told her that it was alright.

Afraid that you might lose it again, you tied a scarf on the ring and put it inside the inner pocket of your bag.

"Thank you once again for kindly letting us wait here," you told Mr. Lee.

"I'm sorry that we disturb you late at night like this," Hyunjin added, feeling sorry for both Mr. Lee and Mrs. Kim, also his son.

"No worries. It's a happy surprise," he said to you.

You were feeling blue for saying goodbye to them, added to the fact that you wouldn't see them again, it was a nice short meeting on an eventful night. One that you would remember you shared with an odd ensemble of people in your life.

You didn't remember climbing these stairs before, maybe the anxiety took you completely that you couldn't think of anything but the ring.

Then you got it back and you felt so relieved, you kept exhaling air as you climbed down the stairs. The tension slowly subsides, leaving you completely drained to eventually slip on your foot and fell down the steps.

Hyunjin rushed to help you, kneeling on the wet pavements from the melting snow, soaking your coat and jeans.

"Are you okay?" His voice was tinted with concerns.

You nodded and took a moment to sit there, "It's the uh... tension..." you breathlessly answered.

"Let's take a taxi back to the hotel!" He put an arm around you to help you get up.

You brushed your dirty hands together, "No, I have to go to the train station."

Hyunjin helped you to stand on your feet and craned his neck to find a taxi nearby, "you can always take the first train home tomorrow," he insisted and waved his hand to hail a taxi.

"I have to go home fast, I have—" you yelped when you saw the scrape on the heel of your hand.

The taxi pulled to the side of the street and Hyunjin opened the door for you, "I'll take you to the train station myself first thing in the morning," he promised and helped you get into the car.

-

Hyunjin already changed into comfortable clothes when you got out of the bathroom wearing the hotel bathrobe, he insisted on getting your dirty clothes laundered and will be delivered back in the morning.

"I ordered dinner earlier but it's already cold now," he said, gesturing you to sit on the small dining table.

"I tried to order a new one but the kitchen is closed," he furtherly explained, placing the utensils in front of you.

Since you were no longer anxious, you got to see him closely, his hair was still long but a bit shorter than the hair he had a few years ago and his facial features were more evident, defining his age and reminding you that he got older too just like you.

But Hyunjin will always be beautiful... warm eyes, sweet smile and you looked down at his delicate hands that have created so many beautiful paintings.

"I'll make us tea," he said, leaving the table to turn on the water boiler.

You dig into the plate and laughed at how the pasta became stiff that you had a hard time twirling it with your fork.

Hyunjin softly laughed seeing you struggling to eat it, he helped by stirring it with a spoon.

"Are you still painting?" He suddenly asked.

You already knew that the question would come out at some point, "I stopped painting a year ago," you shortly replied.

He put down the spoon and looked at you, "Why?"

You shrugged and shoved a forkful of pasta into your mouth, "it just hit me that art supplies are really expensive," you joked.

You slid the plate toward him, "let's share the dinner," you offered.

Hyunjin stared at you for a few seconds before digging into the pasta, "Sure!"

There was a knock on the door when the two of you were having tea, it was a hotel staff delivering a first-aid kit box for Hyunjin.

"Can you sit here?" He asked you, patting the space on the bed next to him.

"I can do it myself," you kindly refused.

"Please?" He pleaded with a soft voice.

You walked to the bed and sat next to him with the box of first-aid kit opened on the floor next to his feet.

"Your hand," he asked for your hand.

You held it out for him, "it's just a scrape," you said.

He didn't say anything but carefully put ointment on the wound with a cotton swab, so carefully and blowing on it once in a while.

He's so, so beautiful and you once again felt like being in a fairytale again.

A prince charming helping a damsel in distress.

He put the bandaid next and made sure it securely covered the wound.

"Thank you!" You muttered.

But he wasn't done yet, he took your other hand and turned it over, saw the deep scar that ran along the side of your palm.

"Is this why you stopped painting?" He asked.

You were stupid to ever think that he wouldn't notice, Hyunjin has always been that, attentive and observant.

"I got into an accident a year ago," you explained because there was no use in hiding it from him anymore.

"Crushed half of my hand, my ring and pinky fingers are paralyzed but I'm still lucky—"

Your words got cut off as Hyunjin placed his lips on it, kissing your scar like it would magically heal it for you. He pressed a kiss along the scar with eyes closed like it was hurtful to do so.

Maybe he couldn't heal you, but everything he does felt magical.

You suddenly got hit by a wave of sadness that came from how much you missed him, yearned for him, and longed for him.

A tear rolled down your face, out of happiness or relief, you didn't know which.

"I missed you," your voice quivering against your sniffles and you swallowed air to help you finish the sentence, "so terribly much."

Your tears kept flowing out of you like a river and you couldn't stop it, guessed your heart was just as happy to be close to his once more as he pulled you into a hug.

"I missed you too," he said as he held you tight, wrapping you in his arms.

And you crumbled in his arms, into the warmth that was once offered the safest embrace, reminded you of the most painful and happiest time of your life.

He took a moment to look at your face and gently wiped your tears with his knuckles, smiling so fondly as he doing it.

Then, he ever so softly placed his lips on yours and stayed like that for a while. Just his lips on your lips, plush and warm.

And it felt like coming home to him.

He had been places, new places, strange places, beautiful places with the most breathtaking sceneries but nothing can beat this wonderful feeling of coming home.

You provide comfort and warmth, a body that is so pliant to his touch, molded to his body when he holds you against him, and a hand that could break open his heart just from resting it on his chest.

His fingertip traced the curve of your lips before kissing it, it instantly took him back to the rainy spring days, your feet tangled and hands touching each other under the cover.

The days when he had the least confidence in his dream but also the happiest when he was with you.

"It's you, isn't it?" You asked out of the blue.

Hyunjin tangled his hand in your hair, "mmh?"

"The painter with the initial H," you answered.

You didn't need to wait for his answer, from the subtle shock visible on his face, you could tell that your guess was true. It wasn't just about the initial that fits his name, but from his paintings, you could feel all these endearing, gentle touches of his hands in every brush of paint on the canvas.

It was vivid, intense, and flawed but if you could see through the cracks, you could find him there, pure, delicate, and bewitching, Hyunjin.

"It's true," he admitted and brought his hand to your jaw, "that's me."

You triumphantly smiled because your heart knows him well more than your mind could perceive.

"I'm so happy for you," you genuinely said to him because you knew how much he wanted to be a great painter, and being acknowledged as one, all of that came true.

Hyunjin connected the dots and noticed something, "did you come here to see the exhibition?"

You let him slip his fingers between the spaces of your fingers, "yes."

He couldn't be happier to know that not only had he found his way home but a home that welcomed him to stay.

"What do you think?"

Art is not about right or wrong, like or dislike, good or bad, art is a tool people use to convey the message it wants to tell to the world. And it's imperative that you get the message in his paintings.

"They're..." you paused to try to fathom your thoughts into words as he held onto your hand as if his life depends on your words.

"A little reserved, tender..." your eyes stared deep into his before finishing your sentence, "beautiful just like you."

But nothing could quite describe how beautiful you looked when you said those words to him and how it made him feel, it would be impossible to paint it as well.

"Are you happy?"

That one question turned the table back to him, he never even asked that himself.

"Are you happy with your paintings?" You asked again.

He had to look deep within himself to find the answer, he got older and he lost pieces of himself, good or bad, it was inevitable. There was still a stubborn part in him, but he knows how to make peace with it.

And he could confidently answer, "yes."

"I'm happy for you," you responded with a delightful sigh, that was all that mattered to you, he made peace with himself.

He pulled you closer and held you tighter because the regrets of leaving you a few years ago came haunting him again.

How he left the morning after when you were still fast asleep and stopped coming to the painting class, he couldn't afford love at that time, the fear of losing his passion for his art was much bigger than the fear of not being able to give you the love you deserve.

"I'm sorry I left," he muttered and it felt bitter coming out of his mouth, how he hated himself still for it.

"It's okay. I understand," your voice was muffled as you nuzzled your head into his chest.

"What I did was—" he stopped talking mid-sentence as if it was painful to keep talking.

"What you did is right," you convinced, then forced him to look at you in the eyes, "there's no guarantee that you'd be this great if you stayed."

That didn't make Hyunjin feel a little less guilty, his conscience remained the same, "I'm sorry."

You put your hand on his chest to stop him from muttering another apology, "you're happy now. That's all that matters."

"And how about you? Are you happy?" He turned the table back at you.

You nuzzled your head further into his neck and nodded, "I'm happy."

And that was all that mattered to him.

He put your hair to the side and looked into your eyes which guided him back here, his haven, home.

"My northern star," he sighed.

And he wanted to stay in that home, own it and live in it, forever.

-

Your hands folded under your head, snuggling up to his chest to seek more warmth as the night had turned to morning.

Hyunjin watched you sleeping and he felt nostalgic, at how it reminded him of the days he spent in your bed, waking up next to you and seeing your face first thing in the morning.

There was a crease on your forehead and he put his finger to make it disappear, warding the nightmare that might reside in your sleep.

"I'll make it go away," Hyunjin muttered under his breath, rubbing over the crease on your forehead while holding your face with such loving.

Your eyes fluttered open and he quickly removed his finger from your forehead.

"Good morning!" He said out of reflex.

You blinked your eyes a few times to adjust to the light and rubbed them.

"Morning!" You mumbled your reply.

You looked so adorable to him, still lost between dreamland and reality, pure and innocent. He couldn't help but kiss you.

That took you by surprise as you stiffen against his kiss and when he pulled away, you shyly smiled at him.

"That's a bad idea. I haven't brushed my teeth," you meekly told him.

He chuckled at your flustered response and ignored your warning, pinning you under him so he could press another kiss.

A kiss that takes things further and you opened the gate to him by letting him invade your mouth. His hands silently made their way to part your bathrobe open, exposing your heavenly body to him.

He abruptly stopped kissing you to take his t-shirt off in one swift move because he needed to feel you skin-to-skin, he wanted that softness lathering him all over.

He kissed and kissed, dragged his mouth down your neck and chest to put it on your lips again with hands touching you all over.

Then all of a sudden, he pulled away with his face hovering a few inches above yours.

"Stay for one more day," he asked.

All he needed was one more day to show you that he wouldn't leave this time around.

"Just one more day!"

The glints in his eyes told you how much he wanted you to stay and he couldn't afford to get the unwanted answer from you.

Before you could think of an answer, he put his lips on you again and put his body on top of you, a hand propped on your side to not put his whole weight on you.

But you have to let him know, "Hyunjin..." you tried again.

"Please?"

And the plead tasted so sweet against your lips.

How could you say no to him? But you couldn't say yes either. You got quiet as you thought of a way to put things gently.

Hyunjin placed kisses down the side of your face as his hand went lower, lower to down south until his fingers met the elastic band of your underwear.

"Hyunjin," you stammered, couldn't focus when he caught your ear shell between his plush lips, "Hyunjin, I can—"

The knocking on the door put a halt to everything and you sat on the bed, putting on your bathrobe again.

"That must be my clothes," you said and got off the bed to open the door.

The breakfast was already served when you got out of the bathroom, dressed in your freshly laundered clothes.

But his eyes darted to the ring on your finger and it seemed like you decided to put it on that day. The blue diamond looked striking against your skin tone.

He poured coffee into your empty cup, knowing that you prefer that for your morning drink.

"That's a nice ring!" He complimented without looking at it. "No wonder you were so terrified of losing it," he added.

You put your hand on your lap, under the table, out of his sight.

"Thank you," you weakly said and sipped your coffee.

He finished his toast in two bites and got up from his chair, "I'm going to shower."

"Okay," you responded, looking up at him with a smile.

The taxi ride to the station was short, probably it was because of Sunday morning which caused no significant traffic.

But the station was already crowded with people, Hyunjin waited as you bought your ticket.

You clutched your bag in front of you as you walked back to him, "my train will leave in half an hour."

Hyunjin had been trying to make sense of it all, the ring, the reason why you came here, how you met and why you needed to get back home. He came to one conclusion.

He took both of your hands and held them, "don't lose it again," he said with his thumb rubbing over the ring.

You softly chuckled and nodded.

Hyunjin sighed and gathered his guts to blurt out the truth: you came here not to restart.

"I know it's not a family heirloom."

The smile on your face slowly faded like someone had brought the brightness down.

"I know you have someone waiting for you back home," he said even though it was hard for him to say it out loud, he didn't want to acknowledge it but at the same time, he couldn't just ignore it.

"Hyunjin, I—" you choked on your tears as tears streamed down your face and he had enough of seeing you crying.

"Shh... please, don't cry!" He cooed, holding your face in his hands like you were a fragile object.

You took a deep breath and began to explain everything, "I had a second thoughts about my engagement."

"You don't have to—"

You shook your head, "that's why I came here, I came to see your paintings in the hope I get to settle this matter... this attachment... to fill this hole in my chest," you continued with a trembling voice.

"But my heart ached for you, Hyunjin. I was broken and you took a piece of me with you when you left," you cried harder and it was heartbreaking to know that he caused you all of this.

"I couldn't move past it... I tried so many times and I couldn't," you vigorously shook your head and crumbled completely in front of him.

Hyunjin didn't realize he was crying too until tears rolled down both of his cheeks, he immediately brushed it off with his hands and pulled you into a hug.

"I tried to love someone else but you keep calling to me," you sobbed into his chest.

This wouldn't happen if he didn't leave without telling you, he could have told you that he couldn't love you at that time and let you go to love someone else, someone who deserves it.

He didn't know that it will have you tethered to him.

"I'm sorry," he repeatedly said because that was all he could come up with, a limitless amount of apology.

He hugged you so warmly and shielded you from the world, letting you cry your heart out, let the pain that he caused seeping back into him.

It would be unfair for him to keep you chained to him, you deserve your happiness as much as he deserves his.

He tilted your head up and attentively wiped the tears from your face, he looked at you with eyes that had seen behind the veil.

Then he slowly brought his lips to yours and gently kissed you, kissed you like he never had and never will. Star-crossed lovers are on the verge of collapsing.

I let go of my claim on you, he said in his head as he kissed you again with the utmost affection he has for you, breaking and shattering, shrinking and deflating. He didn't know how would he recover from that but time heals, time heals everything.

"I want you to be happy," he said.

He brushed your hair to the side and held them there, "are you happy?"

You nodded.

"Are you happy with him?"

You nodded again.

"Does he make you happy?"

"Yes."

"Good!" Hyunjin beamed while nodding his head.

"That's all I need to know," he kissed you again for your lips will never touch again.

After a moment, he let go of the kiss with a gasp.

"I'm sorry but kissing someone's fiancé is kind of hot," he joked.

You sadly laughed while wiping your teary-eyed and bravely looked at him, "thank you for keeping your promise," you told him.

"The flower field," you said, "it's beautiful."

He was more than glad to know that his message was received. A painting of a flower field that he promised you and wanted to show you himself. But he didn't have the chance to do that, he has to set you free and let you fly.

"You'd better get on the train," he reminded you with a squeeze on your shoulder.

You took a long last look at him and smiled with your aching heart, "you are a great painter, Hyunjin."

You took his hand and squeezed it, "You do feel deeply and tenderly," you praised.

There was a lump forming in his throat but he wouldn't let it out, you were the only one capable to deliver such earnest praises and moving his heart.

"Thank you," he said, squeezing your hand back.

There was an announcement to board your train and you hurriedly slung your bag on your shoulder, "it's time," you said with a sad smile.

It was time, time to go and time to let go, time to move on and part ways, time to say goodbye because this is where your life path branched out.

Hyunjin took a deep breath to lessen the pain inside his chest, "I'll see you next Saturday!" He joked or it was his wistful thinking to wanting to go back to those days.

You chuckled then it changed into a sad smile, "I'll see you next Saturday!" you said back.

You took your hand back from him and he let it slip away, and started walking away from him.

He watched you stop after a few steps and turned around, running to give him one last hug. He knew you were crying again but you let go so fast, he didn't get to hug you back. He could only watch as you walked further away from him.

You kept walking and walking without looking back at him and he realized that he has just become the past.

-

The exhibition wasn't open yet but the security knew he was one of the artists featured there, letting him in without questions.

He strolled through the gallery flooded with the morning sunlight and sat on the bench facing his painting, the painting that evoked so many things out of him.

The Flower Field by H.

He suddenly remembered the poem you read to him on the last night he spent with you.

'Life is a flower, of which love is the honey.'

But you are not flower nor honey, you are a field filled with the most beautiful flowers and he wanted to stay there, lay down with his eyes closed and his hands turned up.

It was the only painting that tells so much about him, where he poured his heart out and let it open for the world to see.

He pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and called his agent, he picked up on the second ring.

"I have told everyone that you'll never sell The Flower Field," his agent said through the phone, knowing that he would reject so many offers for this one painting.

"I changed my mind," Hyunjin said.

There was a long silence before his agent could respond to his remark, "you want to sell it?"

"Yes."

There was another silence then a long sigh, "there's this good offer from a gallery—"

"I don't care who you sell it to, just... I don't want to know," he resisted the lump in his throat to come out by swallowing it down.

"What happened? What changed?" His agent said because it was just last night he insisted on never selling the painting.

"The northern star," his voice broke at the end of the sentence and he tried again, "I lost the northern star."

His agent got confused by his answer but he sensed that something was not alright, "it's okay, you will make a lot of paintings better than this," he comforted.

Hyunjin's face dropped as his phone slipped from his hand and fell onto his lap. He couldn't look at the painting anymore without the reminder that he made it for you with the thoughts of you in his head and the poem you read to him.

No, he can't make better paintings than this because it was done in love and what is done with love is well done.

He felt stupid for believing his art is far greater than loving you, it was the opposite. It was your love that brought out the emotions in him, the force to keep thriving and push himself to keep going. It was your love that makes his art harbor so much more than just a message, there are emotions and memories. The painting is a love letter that will not wither nor die, just like his feelings for you.

But Hyunjin was too late to learn that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people.

-

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[fuckyeahfluiddynamics]

The Shape of Rain

In our collective imagination, a raindrop is pendant shaped, wide at the bottom and pointed at the top. But, in fact, a falling raindrop experiences much more complicated shapes.  (Image and video credit: I. Jackiw and N. Ashgriz) Read the full article

[chaotic-catholic]

Frowny Fox and the "forgotten" critters scent

It's a personal pet peeve of mine when Smiling Critters ocs don't have plant based scent or just random scent and I also hate how Gametoons portray the Smiling Critters (my baby boy DogDay would never!), so they're human, friends and ex-orphans in my AU, also Frowny Fox's pendant is teardrop/raindrop instead of a broken heart :)

Frowny Fox : Mimosa because he's sensitive and doesn't like being touched, also because I love Mimosa and I love him like a son

Molly McMoo : Chamomile because she takes care of the others like a farmer takes care of his cows or a mike cow takes care her calf

Clever Claws : Orchid because he likes to boss people around, acts like he's the king and auto-proclamed himself co-leader of the Smiling Critters

Jolly Jaws : Marigold because he likes to help people and tend their wounds

Silly Shelly : Lily because he's the youngest so he's very curious and is discovering things at his own pace

Jerry Giraffe : Cosmos because he's the oldest so that's his role to make sure the others follow the rules and don't act reckless

[equinoxians]

🌈 cloudy rainbow with raindrop pendant necklace!✨

item is now available in our shop, Equinoxian @ ko-fi.com! purchasing this item supports a disabled intersex trans lesbian who is homeless & struggling with housing! i am currently living in a hotel and need to be able to afford more nights in order to stay safe while i wait for government housing to be approved!

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Eleven

The birthday boy, Elias, and his boyfriend Leon live in an apartment block in the Charlottenburg district of the city. It belongs to Leon’s father, whose job has something to do with the automotive industry, and is the type of wealthy man who prefers to have his properties blurred out in Google Maps. Jude assured us that their place is massive. “Like, unreal, insane, massive”, and offers to travel there with us, only our dinner runs late and we need time to rush back to the hostel and change our clothes, so we agree to meet at the penthouse instead. 

The apartment, thankfully, has a lift, and it has even more than that. It has a concierge that glances up from his neat little desk as we push through the heavy doors and with a small sigh says “Du bist wegen der Geburtstagsfeier hier.”

“Um. Ja.” I say, and he waves us towards the elevator. “Zehnter stock.”

“Danke schon!” We shuffle inside it and hit the button for the tenth floor. My stomach seems to lurch more than usual as I stand there and wait to be carried all the way up the building. I smooth my hands over the front of my trousers and take a deep breath, somewhat surprised to find it shuddering. I’m anxious. Something feels charged tonight, but it must be the energy in the air from the looming thunderstorm. Huge, black clouds started rolling in over us as soon as we alighted the train, and now, outside of this apartment block, the great, fat raindrops that narrowly missed us have begun to hammer the pavement. 

Our plastic heels clack across the tile as we make our way towards the huge double doors to knock. There is muffled music coming from within, and it suddenly amplifies when the door swings open, and a man dressed as Neil Armstrong stands there. “Hallo.” He says, and stands aside to let us into the apartment, flooded by the sounds of dreamy, psychedelic rock. 

I try not to let my jaw hit the floor as I look around us. It really is massive. Unreal, insane, and whatever other adjectives one could use in an attempt describe a place that is beyond description. It is a marriage of concrete and glass and steel, with floor to ceiling windows that provide a perfect view of the glittering city beneath us. A sunken living room with leather furniture is decorated by the beautiful people who sit in it, and the television, although off, is the biggest one I’ve ever seen. There are paintings, and books, and plants, and stunning decor and everything, down to the door handles and the throws on the couches is like a piece of art. I barely even look at the people around me, I just stare, and stare at the pendant lights and the rugs and the bespoke kitchen table, littered with bottles of wine and loose cups that should certainly all be sitting on coasters and wonder how I’ll be expected to do anything else that evening but stare at this place and its ostentatious display of wealth.

“Come on.” Claire tugs at my arm. “Let’s go say hello to the guys.” She leads me into the kitchen, when Jonas and Jude are sitting on a pair of barstools. They stand up when they spot us, and I can’t help but grin. “Hey, we made it.”

“You did.” Says Jude. “Priscilla Presley?” 

“Yes!”

He makes me spin around. “You’ve done a great job, my God. Your hair.”

“I’m trying not to think about how I’m going to get it to sit back down straight again after this. I tortured it with a comb.” I take a moment to take in his costume, which to my immense disappointment is a 60s style brown suit. That’s it. “Who are you meant to be?”

“JFK.” He smirks. “Is it not obvious?”

“I can’t believe this. You could just be some guy!”

“Well I’m not just some guy, I’m JFK.”

“Well, groovy, I suppose.” I say, throwing up a peace sign in the spirit of it all, and he chuckles. “I’m pretty sure Priscilla didn’t say things like ‘groovy’.”

“Fine, it’s not groovy, then.”

“Yeah that sounds more like her.” We turn to our friends, in conversation with one another and I do a double take when I realise who Jonas is dressed as. “Charles Manson?” I splutter, and he looks at me with amusement and says “Yes, didn’t I do a good job?”

“A great job.” I agree, “Only it’s a bit awkward, seeing as Claire is dressed as Sharon Tate.” He looks at her and bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, I didn’t know who you were supposed to be! This is terrible!”

She curtseys for him. “Only because people tell me that I look like her. It’s not very obvious, I suppose. She really did dress quite normally.” We make them pose together for at least a dozen photographs on Claire’s new polaroid camera, and then Jude and I grin for Claire when she turns it on us, and Jude puts his arm around me while we pull the ugliest faces we can. Then he pretends to kiss my cheek, lips hovering just a few tantalising centimetres from my cheek and I try my best to act like it doesn’t phase me.

After he swivels around to grab a pair of beers from the counter for us, I ask him “Where’s Jackie O?” He peers around us. “I don’t think anybody came as her, which, honestly, now feels like a bit of a waste. It’s a pity that you and I didn’t think of collaborating or something. You could have been my first lady.”

“Or you could have collaborated with me and been my 60’s Elvis, which would have been way more interesting than your dusty old suit.” I say, but he doesn’t seem to have been listening. Instead his eyes are somewhere over my head. I glance behind me to see Astrid enter the kitchen, and her presence in this space makes my skin prickle, like she’s instantly sucked all of the energy out of the room. The last time I saw her her hair was cascading down to the small of her back in perfect, white blonde waves, and now it’s gone. Lopped off into the shortest of short pixie cuts imaginable. For a brief moment I wonder if it’s a wig to suit her Twiggy costume, but as she gets closer to us I realise that it isn’t, it couldn’t be. It’s her real hair. She’s really cut it all off, displaying a drastically different, sharper, more severe and angular look than before. When her light green eyes meet mine, I swear she almost rolls them. 

“Hello.” I say sheepishly. “Your costume is nice.”

Her expression doesn’t budge. “Can I speak with Jude, please?” 

I heat up with shame and embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry.” I say. Maybe she saw us taking those photos. Maybe she heard what I said about Elvis. Unable to meet her eyes, I excuse myself to go wandering around the party, somewhere, anywhere away from her boyfriend, who I certainly shouldn’t have been retroactively planning a couples costume with. What was I thinking? But he’s so confusing, sometimes I don’t know where his boundaries are. 

There’s a nice group of pretty girls in the lounge who switch to english as soon as they realise I can’t understand them, and I sit and talk with them for a while, learning all of the gossip about Leon’s rich dad, and what he allegedly does with all of his big heaping mounds of cash. They say that Leon takes photographs of models in his studio upstairs for work, while Elias, five years younger and still in college, studies painting and has a dedicated studio in one of the rooms too. I’m curious about it, and vow to sneak up there later to see if I can get a look at it. 

On the whole, people here are very friendly and inviting, and after talking to the nice girls in the lounge I dance to some psychedelic rock with another group of people, whose goofy moves make me laugh so much that I think I might throw up. Everyone is cool, but everyone is kind to me in a way that makes me think that they believe I am cool too, and none of them has even thought to question it. I like this place, I like the version of me that these people are meeting tonight, and think about how if I could erase all of my history, and everybody’s memory of who I used to be, I’d probably be this cool, laidback girl all of the time. 

“It’s so interesting that you’re an illustrator.” The American girl dressed as Cher says as she spins me around on the floor to Season of the Witch. “I should follow you on Instagram. Do you share your work on there?”

“Yes!” I say, and explain to her about how I’m doing my first mural, and how I’ve done window art and cards for a while now. It’s all on my page, and when she nods along with interest I really believe that she cares, she wants to know, and she isn’t just pretending to. As soon as I walk away to get another drink I get a notification that she’s followed me. When I enter the kitchen to find Claire I spot her giggling with Jonas. He says something to her that makes her snort and thump him in the arm, and I kind of feel like I shouldn’t be witnessing them. If they’re flirting with each other, I’m not sure I want to deal with it now. The concept of her having eyes for anybody but Shane is depressing to me. In the corner of the room Jude and Astrid are still talking, but neither of them looks particularly pleased about it. I find myself thinking about what Jen said about her, and how she’s never been any fun, and as I watch them for a brief moment I consider whether Jude is any fun around her either. They look far too intense for that, huddled like that with drooping shoulders and miserable expressions like they’re gathering for a friend’s untimely death rather than his fabulous birthday party. I just take another beer and wander away. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[voids-colourful-creations]

Through Thunder and Lightning - A Liko Fic

[Read on Ao3!]

Rated: G Pokémon Horizons Liko & Rising Volteccers (Platonic) Content Warnings: Descriptions of panic and sensory overload. Words: 3.4k

Summary: Liko watches Nyahoja become nothing more than a small speck in the distance as Amethio flies away with it. Left sitting there in the rain, she takes the first steps to getting it back… in the morning. First, she needs to rest. (A scene insert between episode 2 and 3)

---

The raindrops still clung to Liko’s clothes, her skin, her hair. It was cold, tiny stings that dotted across her body.

She wasn’t used to this kind of feeling, this aching gap in her chest. She hated it.

The sight of Nyahoja’s paws scratching at the ground as it slipped over the edge of the deck was burned into her mind, lingering like a ghost wherever she looked.

“Come on. We can’t just sit out here.” The voice came from above her; still unfamiliar to Liko even though it wasn't the first time she’d heard Friede speak.

Liko stood, Friede’s arm still around her. Rather, he pulled her upwards, standing up with a light tug at her arm.

He hovered over her as he led her back towards the tower she’d been hiding in. Smoke from the move that Amethio’s Soublades had used still unfurled, even as the rain continued to beat down. Friede directed her to yet another door, tucked into the central column of the ship, this time around the side from where she’d been hiding. A back up entry point, presumably the one that Liko had watched Molly retreat to only moments ago.

They stepped in and out of the rain, and Liko ducked out of Friede’s arm. He didn’t seem to mind.

Thunder cracked in perfect timing with lightning outside, and Liko tried to not flinch. It didn’t work all too well, but by this point there wasn't much face she had left to save.

A staircase loomed in front of Liko, plunging down dark into inky depths she couldn't see the bottom of.

“I’ll go first,” Friede said as he walked forward. “It looks kinda creepy when the powers out like this, but it’s not scary at all in the light.”

His voice faded slightly as Liko watched him retreat deeper into the dark. She followed, steps still shaky. The only thing scarier than walking into the dark creepy staircase on the strange floating ship, following the man who swept her away from her school without explaining a word, was being alone.

It was loud around her.

The rain continued to pelt the ship from all sides, it was a cacophony only blurred by the ship's metal exterior. Every drop banged against the ship, and every sound collected together into a tangled web of noise Liko felt like she was drowning in.

It was a blurry almost-pain.

She stared downwards at her feet as she walked down the stairs. A soft red glow poured out from the stairs. Emergency lightning.

Tinted crimson, Liko focused on her own feet as they stepped further and further into the inky unknown.

Each time she took another step down, she could feel the squish of impact, her sopping wet sock in an equally wet shoe. She was probably just stepping through her own personal puddles at this point. Despite the noise from outside, the squishing sound was still stuck in her ears every time she took a step.

She had to keep her steps careful, the bottom of her soles were slick, and her limbs still felt shaky. It wouldn’t be hard to slip down here, tumble downwards and downwards where Liko couldn’t even see.

If she hadn't slipped, maybe she would’ve been able to catch Nyahoja before it fell. If she’d been more careful about where she was standing, maybe she would’ve prevented Nyahoja from slipping in the first place. If she’d been more careful when commanding Nyahoja, if she hadn’t of gotten involved, if she’d never tried to run and given over the pendant in the first place-

Her thoughts were running headlong into each other again, and all Liko could think was that if she had just been better , things wouldn’t be the way they are.

Her head hurt.

She couldn’t tell if it was from the noise or the rain or the altitude, but it pressed in on her, a grip from all sides that closed in on her thoughts. Maybe the cause was all three.

It was a static sort of noise, fuzzy and uncomfortable. Friede was whispering something into his phone that only mixed with the ocean of loud that Liko’s surrounded in.

Or maybe he wasn’t whispering. Every sound seemed blurry, it was all blending together. So Liko couldn’t exactly tell.

It didn’t matter, really.

Liko only noticed they'd made it to the bottom of the staircase when she went to step down and was met with flat floor. The door in front of her was pushed open, and Friede held it for her as she stepped through.

There was hardwood beneath her. That was pretty much the only thing she could notice. With her senses muted and her emotions feeling like they were washed out.

She couldn’t stand this, the way the air she tries to breathe in feels like it was slipping away from her. It was a scary, shaky, feeling. Liko bit her tongue and tried to focus on breathing, on not crying all too much.

“Here ya go.”

The jagged and rough thoughts that scraped against Liko’s mind were met with something softer.

A towel, actually; it was white and fluffy, and it has been tossed right onto Liko’s head.

“Ah-“ Liko opened her mouth to reply, but the usual polite thank you she has prepared on her tongue doesn’t fall out like it’s meant to. Words caught in a web again, she can’t make herself speak how she’s supposed to.

“Dry yourself off, alright? We don’t want you catching cold.”

The voice (somewhat monotone, but not all that deep. That woman from earlier, then. Molly, she’d said.) didn’t seem particularly upset or angry. If anything, her tone was gentler, careful with Liko.

Liko reached up towards the towel, rubbing it against her hair and face to try and soak up the rain water.

Once she’d deemed herself sufficiently dry, she pulled the towel downwards, messing up her hair in the process. Stray hairs flew out in every direction, static electricity making them hover outwards from her face.

Liko wrapped the towel around her shoulders, pulling it inwards in front of her like a blanket. Still damp, and not all too warm, but the light weight felt comforting around her.

Molly stood in front of her, crouching slightly to be closer to Liko’s eye level.

Usually, when adults did that, she felt some sort of condescension. Being looked down upon in a way that made her feel uneasy in her skin.

It didn’t feel like that right now.

“Bit better, yeah?”

Liko nodded, words still failing her for the time being.

“We should get you out of those wet clothes though….” Molly mused, “Soon, if not now.”

Liko shook her head, which Molly took to mean as “Later, then.”

Liko had already exhausted herself as it was, she wasn’t sure she even had the energy for something so simple at the moment.

She trembled still, only slightly. Tremors that she tried to conceal by pulling the towel around her closer, not that it did much to help. She took a quick look across the room. Friede had disappeared before she’d even noticed.

“That can’t be all too warm.” Another voice interjected, much more vibrant than Molly’s. Liko turned her head, a woman with golden hair that faded to orange beside her.

“Here, trade me!” She said, holding out a blanket.

It was a bit faded, a quilt of some kind judging by the stitching. The fabric was a beige sort of colour, the fabric worn down into something soft to the touch.

Slowly, Liko pulled the towel off her shoulders, holding it out to the woman as she took the quilt from her.

It was very soft, and she wrapped it around herself just as easily.

She was still damp, her uniform was soaked through, but the blanket helped.

She wanted to say thank you , and also where are we going and I need to go find Nyahoja now so please let me off and I’m sorry even though she couldn’t place what she’d be apologizing to them for.

She didn’t say anything.

The women exchanged a glance with each other, nodding wordlessly.

They were judging her, by one merit or another, Liko realized. Oddly, a fear of not measuring up to expectations flared in the back of her mind. Of course, by now she’d likely failed any tests anyone here had been trying to set for her, formally or otherwise.

Her heart rate picked up a bit when the weight of everything settled on her shoulders again.

She did not know these people. She did not know where she was. The only things she knew were that Nyahoja was gone and it’s her fault, and that some other people she did not know are after her and her pendant.

Everywhere she looked, there was someone to be afraid of. Everything in her was screaming that she should run , but there was nowhere to run to, and her legs were shaking too hard to go anywhere at all. She wasn’t even sure she could take one step as she was now.

All of her was shaking.

“Hey, kiddo. Deep breath, yeah? You want some tea?”

Molly’s voice again, her hand reaching out in Liko’s direction. It hovered over her, not quite touching.

Liko’s voice remained absent, but she ducks her head down and nods. It’s polite to accept, so she’s been taught.

“Alright, I’ll start the kettle then.”

A small bzzt! Sounded out as Molly’s phone zipped out of her pocket, hovering in the air for a moment. Molly reached forward just as the phone suddenly plummeted in midair, falling directly into her awaiting hand.

Vibrant against the darkness of the room, Liko caught the silhouette of a Rotom darting to her left before it disappeared, and the electric kettle clicked itself on.

“Nice one.” Molly said with hushed breath, praising her Pokemon.

Molly continued to busy herself with the tea prep, and Liko tried to look around the area a bit just to get a better sense of her surroundings.

There was a table. Chairs. Vase of flowers on the table?

She was looking at everything the same way she always is, her eyes functioning just as normal, but she can’t quite seem to get the details to stick in her mind. It’s all just. Dulled at the edges.

A gentle chuckle came from behind Liko’s head.

“You’re still dripping a bit onto the floor.”

The other woman said.

Liko looked to her feet again, registering the small puddle she’d collected. Her socks were so damp she hadn’t even realized.

“I’m sorry.”

They were the first words she’d been able to choke out, though they were still tangled up in her anxieties. The phrase came out diminished; her voice didn’t sound right.

“Eh, don’t worry. Hardly the worst this old floor has seen! Your clothes must be soaked through though.”

Liko nodded.

“Well, you’ll be able to dry ‘em here, so I suppose it’s nothin to worry about.”

Liko paused at that for a moment, then nodded. Even if she was confused, best to go along with whatever they said.

“Which tea do you want?” Molly’s voice came through again. She walked over to Liko, holding out two bags of tea. Liko couldn’t focus enough to read either label, but she recognized the one cupped in Molly’s right hand. That shade of green, the sort of tea her Grandmother liked.

Thinking about her grandmother only made Liko’s heart squeeze tighter, so silently she pointed out at the green bag.

“Yeah? Thought so. One sec…”

Molly trailed off as she turned back around.

It was odd.

These people couldn’t be trusted, and Liko knew this. Maybe it was just the adrenaline wearing off, but she found herself wanting to sink into this rhythm. It was nice, the gentleness.

“Here you are.”

Molly handed Liko a teacup, paper tag fluttering slightly as Liko accepted it.

Liko cradles the drink in her palms for a moment. The warmth of it seeped into her palms, it was a comforting weight to hold.

“I’ve got some for you too, Orio. And me, too.”

“Aw, you’re the best.”

Liko watched carefully as the other woman, Orio then, accepted the cup and took a drink without hesitation.

Her face screwed up.

“‘-T’s hot!!”

Molly laughed lightly, trying to cover the sound with her fingertips to no avail.

“Again, Orio? You do this every time.”

Orio stuck out her tongue in Molly’s direction. Molly, raising an eyebrow, blew lightly on her tea, then took a sip.

“Mm. That’s nice.” She murmured, looking up and over to Orio, who only glared further.

The tension melted as soon as it formed though, they were only playing at any sort of dispute.

Giving it a light blow of her own, Liko took her own sip of tea.

It was stronger than she was expecting, but she liked it that way. It was nice to have something solid to hold onto, a taste to feel in her mouth that wasn’t her own unspoken words.

For a while, Liko just sat with that. With warm tea, with two strangers, with the blanket around her shoulders soaking up a bit more water from her uniform.

It was funny now, how tired she’d become just by sitting down. Or rather, the exhaustion of everything was really catching up to her now. The adrenaline had held her out for longer than she’d been expecting, but even that had long since settled away by now, leaving Liko weary and on the verge of sleep.

She cradled the teacup in her right hand, reaching up to rub at her eyes with the other, as if she could brush the sleepiness away from herself.

Her grip on the teacup loosened, threatening to slip out of her grasp and tumble onto the floor. Instead, Orio reached forward, taking the cup out of Liko’s hands and gently setting it on the table.

“Whoops, there we are. Bit more steady.”

Part of Liko wanted to protest, but the rest of her was much too tired to do anything much more than blink there and try to fight back against sleep.

Molly glanced over to her phone, then back over to Liko.

“Oh, it’s later than I thought.”

Orio glanced over, eyes widening.

“Oh wow, yeah.” She turned her attention back over to Liko, “You’ve gotta be exhausted.”

Liko just nodded dimly.

“Mm, thought so.”

Orio stood, taking Liko’s teacup as well as her own back over towards the kettle.

“Mol, the extra room, how’s it looking?”

“Bad.” Molly replied bluntly. “It’s a storage closet with an unmade bed in it at the moment. Putting her in your room would be better.”

“Good idea!” Orio replied, placing the cups down. “Liko can take my bed, I’ll share with you.”

Molly grumbled slightly.

“Unless you’re volunteering your room for her?”

Molly shook her head, “No, better your room than mine. But you’re sleeping on the floor this time.”

“Fineeee!” Orio singsonged, walking back over to the table.

“Whadja say, Liko? Seems like a good time to get some rest, yeah?”

“Mm-yea…” Liko mumbled out, her words still blurring together in mind and aloud.

“Gotcha, let’s head on over then.”

Orio placed her hand on Liko’s shoulder, gently guiding her forward. As she exited, she waved back over her shoulder to Molly.

“See ya in a bit!”

Back through the interior of the ship, Orio gently pushed Liko out into a hall and up a staircase, eventually leading them back up to the deck.

The rain still beat down upon the ship, but the ship's layout meant they were protected from getting hit by it. It vaguely reminded Liko of walking out on her porch when it rained, only a lot higher up.

The wooden deck beneath her was still smooth and dry, though a smattering of raindrop sparks bounced towards her feet as it continued to pour. An uneven line was drawn out by the gap, where the rain had soaked everything through and the divide to where it was untouched. Those stray droplets skewed the line, bouncing out of place to encroach further on the “safe zone”.

Liko was broken out of her train of thought when she stumbled backwards, Orio’s arm keeping her in place from walking any further.

“This one here’s my room!” Orio said with pride, stepping forward to bang her fist against a sturdy metal door. “It’s a bit untidy, but it’s clean!”

Liko ducked her head down towards Orio.

“A-ah- th-thank you.”

Orio grinned.

“Don’t mention it! If there’s anything you need, just let me know, yeah?”

Liko nodded.

“Great! Oh, and if you want, leave that soaked uniform out here for me. I’ll get those cleaned and dried up for ya, no worries!”

Liko gripped the strap of her backpack just that bit tighter. Thank goodness she’d grabbed it. The spare set of clothes Ann had urged her to stuff in there in case they’d ever have an impromptu sleepover had felt like a waste at the time, but now she couldn’t be more grateful.

“I will.” She says, bowing her head down again. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it!” Orio chimed, waving her off. “I’ll leave ya to it then, you’re probably tired enough without me blabbing on. Have a good night, Liko.”

And with that, she turned and walked back the way she came, leaving Liko with the door.

With a bit of effort, Liko pushed it open.

The room, as Orio had warned, was rather messy.

Across the stained wooden floors lay maps and tools in all varieties and sizes. The largest map took up nearly a quarter of the floor space, held down by a couple wrenches and a screwdriver. The bed was unmade, but at least it’s got a pillow. Liko shuffled forward, pulling the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders off and onto the bed. There. Much better.

Liko gingerly stepped around the blueprints, placing her backpack down and rummaging through it until she found the smaller bag she’d kept her clothes in.

‘Thank you, Ann.’ Liko thought to herself as pulls the bag out. ‘I’m sorry too, Ann. I’ve just gone and disappeared on you now, haven’t I? When you come back to our dorm it’ll be all messed up… the window will be open… Then again, I don’t think you’d really mind.”

Then again, Liko thought that maybe Ann would be excited by the whole prospect, save for losing Nyahoja. Like it was some kind of adventure. Liko almost wanted to laugh at that. If anyone should be the heroine of some story, it was Ann right? A spirited girl with lots of energy and a friendly attitude. Not Liko.

She wasn’t suited for a role like this! Surely the audience would protest? But maybe it was too late for that.

Liko yawned, trying to cover her mouth with her palm to conceal it even though no one was there.

On autopilot, she’d gotten changed without even thinking about it, and so she folded her worn clothes into a neat pile and left it sitting outside the door.

She wasn’t entirely sure if that Orio woman was really going to take care of it, but it was only a school uniform. She had others if anything happened to that one, and it wasn’t as if they didn’t already know what school she went to.

With all that settled, Liko walked back over to the bed, letting herself collapse down on top of it. She rolled over, pulling the blanket along with her.

This was all so strange. Awful and scary, and yet not entirely bad.

These people, not entirely trustworthy but not entirely evil.

There was a kindness to them, to this ship, that undercut the chill of the rain, of Liko’s fears.

She couldn’t let herself melt into that warmth, their warmth, when she still had to save Nyahoja. Nyahoja would love this ship, Liko was certain.

It was her pokemon. It was her fault. It was her responsibility. And Liko was so prepared to try and right her mistakes alone but…

It was so hard.

“Nevermind that,” she thought to herself, “In the morning, I’ll fix it.”

But even then, her thoughts came blurry and half formed, as she already began to slip into sleep.

Through faded memories of her grandmother, Liko slept curled in on herself as the storm faded out. There, with a drive she hadn’t experienced before, tucked away by a new sort of kindness she had no idea how to accept.

The storm they’d found themselves in would only rage on for so long, the lightning would quit jittering across the sky, the thunder's growl would fade to a gentle murmur.

In the morning, Liko woke up to sunlight shining in on her face.

[End!]

[winxngasks]

⛈️ Stormy, Witch Form ⛈️

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Last up for the Trix' witch forms, we have Stormy! All I have left after this one is the Specialists' suits(which I will just make one post for, since they all wear the same thing) and Nabu's wizard form, and then I will be done with this project! For now, I hope you enjoy!

More notes + details about Stormy's witch form can be found under the 'readmore'!

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. Similar to the problem I had with Darcy about struggling to find her a fitting dress, I had some difficulty finding a good top and shoes I wanted to give for Stormy here. For her top, I wanted to keep with the similar corset-style the other Trix have, with her having a dark burgundy/red one with black lace-up ties, straps, and detailing all-around. Her skirt is a black, asymmetrical mini-skirt that looks a little more ripped up near the hemline. Her shoes are dark burgundy(matching color as her top) platform ankle-boots that have black detailing, lightning bolt-shaped studs, and lightning bolt charms hanging off from the top of the boots.

. Underneath her skirt is ripped up black tights that have numerous holes in them. She also has a black leather belt with attached metal and leather chains that hang off the sides, one of which connects to a garter around her right thigh.

. Her accessories include fingerless fishnet gloves with lightning bolt-shaped studs, one of which is black and elbow-length, and the other which is dark red and only covers her hand. She also has a black choker with chains hanging down and a lightning bolt charm in the middle, with a glowing "S" pendant hanging down from the choker. She has multiple ear piercings, most of which have chains connecting to each other and her main pair of earrings are asymmetrical with one being a lightning bolt and the other being a dark storm cloud with dangling raindrops.

. Her hair becomes a darker violet color and more wild and messy but still super curly, with some of it being pulled back with a black hair tie. Her makeup consists of super messy, dark burgundy eyeshadow all-around the eyes with graphic black eyeliner that looks like lightning bolts, black blush, and dark burgundy lipstick with a black crackle effect.

[sweetearthandnorthernsky]

and i'm forced to deal with what i feel (forgive, morinel ft maglor)

morinel has. a lot of feelings about this actually (10 pages worth, actually). this whole situation is a goddamn mess help. also, your honor that is morinel's emotional support mithril thread spool and one day i will write a fic about how she Aquires it and Why it's her emotional support mithril thread spool.

Mithlond is somehow even emptier than Morinel remembers it being nearly a year ago, silent save for the song of the waves crashing against the shore.

She returns to the palace, standing in the deserted foyer, though she is too lost in thought to really realize who Elrond is talking to, tucked away in a corner.

She pays them no mind and goes to pass them so she can return to her room and start packing–

The hooded figure looks up – looks at her – and there is a moment of terrible realization that makes Morinel feel sick with conflicting feelings.

“Maglor.”  There’s ice in her voice, and she clenches her hands at her side so tightly that her fingernails dig crescents into her palm. 

Her uncle’s– Maglor’s eyes are foggy like sea-glass and there’s barely any Treelight left in them.  

“Isfin–”

“Don’t call me that,” Morinel snaps, sharp like iron, sharp like the crackle of lightning in her runes, or the sharp burn of her fire, sharper than she means. 

Elrond’s brows crinkle and she exhales, trying to calm herself – at least a little. 

“I haven’t gone by that name since…” Since before the War of Wrath, since before the breaking of Beleriand, since before everything changed, since before– 

“It doesn’t matter,” she says stiffly.

Morinel cannot help but glance to the stairway that leads to the hallway that leads to her room. For a few tantalizing seconds, she wonders if she could extricate herself from the conversation and make it up the stairs but–

“What ought I call you then?” There’s that faint bite of not-quite-sarcasm that she remembers all too well from Amon Ereb and Belegost and Taur-im-Duinath. 

“Morinel.”

Maglor says nothing at first but his brow quirks upward for a half-second, which she knows all too well for surprise (she'd disliked that name when she was little, after all) before it smoothly crosses into approval.

“It suits you.”

“Thank you.” 

(She nearly laughs at how bizarre this is – the two of them exchanging polite pleasantries as if they met by chance in the marketplace.)

The wind rustles outside, and raindrops splatter against the roof, and in the distance, lightning flashes. He pushes his hood away from his face and for a half-second, she sees his hand, burnt and blistered, and she wonders what could've made such a mark–

The Silmaril. 

So it did burn him.

(She remembers that night, after the Host of the West had wrested the Silmarilli from Morgoth’s crown, when they stole through the camp and cut down the guards, eyes burning like wild animals, not Eldar, blood on their sword even to the last–)

“I had thought you drowned in the wreck of Beleriand.” It’s with concentrated effort that she keeps her voice level and disinterested. “Were you here this whole time?”  

He nods and something twists within her like a coil that’s been wound far too tightly. 

She closes her eyes and bites her tongue and tries, for Elrond’s sake, to ground herself and keep from lashing out.   “Where?” 

Morinel’s pendant feels heavier than the entire weight of Arda at the moment and her cloak – meant to keep out the chill – feels like it’s made of lead. 

She hopes, desperately, that the answer isn't what she thinks it is.

He shrugs, palms upward, and the light catches on the angry-looking burn. “Here. East of Himring – mostly – as I always have been.” 

As if to emphasize his words, lightning strikes the sky and she can see the lonely island out in the distance.

Arinya flickers and shines in the candlelight and suddenly all she can see is hands dipped in silver and crowns of holly and she can only taste the burning char of stone that sticks in her throat and – 

“This whole time?”

His face twists with pain and his eyes are shadowed when he answers as lightning cracks in the distance. There is sorrow in his voice when he speaks. 

“If this is about Ty–”

Thunder rumbles. 

“Of course this is about Celebrimbor!”

Heat scalds her throat, as if she'd used one of her runes, and she takes a breath before she continues, focusing on the texture of the soft mithril thread between her fingers.  

“Do you know what Sauron did to him?” Her voice is dangerously low, and she knows that this is unfair, but she can’t be bothered caring. “He cast his hands in liquid silver, and made him into a banner, beaten and bloody and barely recognizable.”

Maglor winces and Elrond’s face twists into disapproval. 

She cannot stop now but, by all the Valar, she wants to, she does not want to have this outburst here, in front of Elrond, she does not want to have it at all, she does not want to be emotional when she is already stressed from travel, she does not want to be vulnerable. 

But it would be easier to stop the sun from shining, or to stop the ebbing of the tides, because the words are already bubbling up into her throat, and pouring from her mouth the way the Gelion flowed into the Helevorn.

“Where were you? Hiding on the coast when you could have helped.” Lightning cracks again, bright and throws the room into sharp relief. The words feel like they burn her, and Morinel exhales, and the ill-made pendant rises with her breathing. “We needed you too, you know, but you ran, like you always do.” 

She regrets the words the minute she says them.

Uneasy silence lies between them all, and she stops to listen – the rain has slowed, and the thunder stopped.

She takes advantage of the moment to flee, taking the stairs nearly two at a time, and shutting her door behind her.

Morinel tosses her sketchbook none too gently onto her well-worn chest of drawers, and locks the door behind her. 

She takes a seat at her desk and pushes The Coming Into Eldamar away, and pulls out her letterbox again, carefully paging through each one – half-heartedly, she knows she doesn’t have the heart to throw any of them away. 

When she’s done, she places it on her bed, and turns to her bookshelf.

Her thoughts spiral and twist as she works, mostly to the tune of that was uncalled for, even if you were angry or how are you going to fix that or dark hair isn’t the only thing you inherited from your father –

An hour goes by, and the anger has passed — or, more accurately: turned to a dull simmering — when someone knocks, softly, at her door when she is nearly through organizing her books.

Morinel freezes, then unfreezes to pick the last book off the shelf. More likely than not, it’s probably Elrond and she sighs.

She is not looking forward to her talking to, but it must be gotten over with sooner or later, mustn't it?

Morinel unlocks the door but waits until she’s back to the books before she calls over her shoulder: “It’s unlocked.”

The door creaks on its hinges. 

“May I?”

Blood drains from her face.

Not Elrond. 

“If you wish.” Morinel’s voice is icily polite. 

(She hides the strain very well, if she must say so herself.)

Contrary to his request, Maglor stays on the threshold and she spreads the books out on her bed and begins to sort them into piles: keep, unsure, and give away. 

Ainulindale: A Translation – illustrated by Lorindol of Gondolin – is placed into the Keep Forever pile, while A Treatise On Stone by Arelleth is placed in the Give Away pile – after all, why would she need a book to help with the planning of cities and great buildings when they must be a mirian a dozen in Aman?

Moments tick past.

Morinel cannot stand silence.

(She never has, and she never will be able to. Maglor knows this, and she knows Maglor knows this, and Maglor knows she knows he knows this.)

She exhales.

“Are you going to stand there or come in?” She still is not facing him as she sorts through her books, though in truth, she is barely even really looking at them. “This room gets cold, and I would like the door shut before I freeze, either way.”

There is the shuffle of fabric and the door creaks again. Then the floorboards creak too, as footsteps come closer – though they stop a few feet away from her.

Maglor is still not just yet in her peripheral.

“You were never so affected by the cold before,” Maglor’s voice holds a hint of something… she doesn’t quite know what it is. “That sounds like something that would affect those who crossed the Ice.” 

Morinel feels she’s allowed to be a little petty about the whole thing.

“Yes,” she says succinctly, stacking the books with a little more force than necessary, “But being in a coma due to the dark arts of Sauron for three thousand and twenty-five years causes many changes in one’s hröa, most of which I am still coming to terms with.” 

Her shoulder throbs as if agreeing with her as she watches her words land with a sort of sickening pleasure, and she hates herself for taking satisfaction in the way discomfort flickers across Maglor's face.

“I suppose so. I might've known."

Morinel laughs, but there is no humor in it, only bitterness. “How could you? You weren't here.”

She glances up then, to see how his lips purse into a thin line, like how it did in Belegost or Amon Ereb before telling her and the twins something he knew they wouldn’t like. 

Her eyes narrow, and her hands still.

“That is–” Maglor pauses, taking a step toward her. When he seems convinced that she isn’t going to commit violence to preserve her personal space, he continues, “– not entirely true.”

Morinel goes very, very still.

“What do you mean?” Her voice is low, and her hands have stilled, clutching the spine of one of her older books. 

“I was not as good at hiding as I thought,” he says, with a rueful shrug, and her fingernails dig crescents into her palm. “Elrond found me, not long after Tyelperinquar…”

His voice fades into a soft silence, and the sound of the waves shushing through the windows fills the room. 

At this moment, Morinel doesn't know whether she is more angry at Elrond, for keeping Maglor’s existence a secret from her — of all people! — or at Maglor, for staying away so long. 

But Maglor is not finished speaking. 

“After that… I was in Imladris,” he says, softly, so softly she almost can’t hear him, but she can, if only just barely, and that’s almost worse.  “Occasionally. And I was there when…” He pauses, no doubt trying to figure out how to phrase his next words diplomatically. “...you came back.”

Morinel blinks very slowly. 

The knot of emotions in her chest gets tangled even more, like when she was first learning embroidery and left herself too much thread.  Suddenly, she remembers first waking from the coma, the harp song in the background when she mumbled to Harthalín and—

“That was you, wasn’t it?” The words are accusing, even if the tone isn’t. 

He blinks.

“When I woke up,” she says, frowning. “You were the one at the harp, weren’t you?”

He bows his head – whether from shame or acknowledgement, she cannot tell.

“So–” Heat scalds at her throat again. “So…” She hates this, she hates stammering, she hates not being able to articulate her point. “Why? Why did it take you two ages?”

“The Silmarils burned us,” Maglor says, as if that were the only explanation needed. 

“Do you think that matters to me?” She snaps, finally able to look Maglor in the eyes, to see pain reflected there. “Maybe that line worked on… on the Morinel in your head– but–”  

She takes a deep breath and rises from her bed to pluck half-heartedly at her loom – carefully avoiding Maglor's eyes as she fidgets with her shuttle. 

“Oh, Morinel,” Maglor says, his voice soft and tired and despairing. “You didn’t want me around, not really. You say that now but you don’t understand.”

“Do not tell me how I felt then,” she says, more fiercely than she meant to. The spool of mithril thread grounds her as she reminds herself to breathe.

“I didn’t want people whispering about you,” Maglor says quietly, “Or Celebrimbor. I know they would have, if you had received visits from your kinslaying-uncle.”

She laughs despairingly, turning to face him again. 

“They already did whisper about us! A Fëanorian who works with thread –” and she lifts the basket full of spools as if to demonstrate her point, “– in weaving and embroidery both…” 

Morinel smiles bitterly then, tucking a braid out of her face. 

“You can imagine, I’m sure, the rumors that started and Celebrimbor always had it worse – as a smith, as the eldest of the two of us, for his resemblance to his father and to Grandfather.”

She takes a breath.

“We looked. I looked.” 

The words come out like she is carving them into marble, torturously slow but the tangle of knots in her chest unravels the tiniest bit. He makes a sound of surprise, and she smiles, though it comes out like a grimace. 

“Those first decades after the war were hard,” she says. “I had questions, and I’m sure he did too.”

She feels very young again, a child amidst the days of the War of Wrath. 

“I– We– thought you were dead.”  Then, so quiet, she’s not sure if he even hears: “And we thought that if you were not dead that you must have been angry with us.”

Silence again. 

Maglor isn’t looking at her this time, and she tightens her grip on the mithril spool in her hand for reassurance.

“I was—I was trying to protect you both.” 

The words sound as difficult to say as Morinel’s own admission. “I know how difficult it was to love Feanorians in those days.”

“Not as difficult as it was to be one.”  

(This time her response is easy, because it is true.)

They stand in an impasse, in silence. 

Finally, she manages to say what she’d been wondering (and fearing) the response to. “Why… Why did you show yourself to Elrond, and not us, then?”

A pause, and she watches the tossing waves in the harbor. 

“There was very little choice in the matter.”

Maglor’s lips quirk.

“It happened by chance. He saw the smoke of my campfire.” The words sting a little, and she knows that they should not. “And I think, part of it, is I was scared of your reactions.” He shrugs. “I was running.”

She winces as she takes a seat at her loom, and gestures for Maglor to sit at her desk. 

“I am sorry,” she says, after a long, long moment of anxiously passing her shuttle from hand to hand. “About what I said.”

Maglor gives her a crooked half-smile. 

“I deserved most of it, if it makes you feel better.”

She shakes her head and rises – almost as soon as she sits down, because she had never been one for sitting still – to start taking down the tapestry she’d finished on her last visit to Mithlond. 

“It doesn’t,” she says, digging through her basket before finding her favorite tapestry needle. 

With deft and skilled movement – she’s done this often enough it’s almost second nature – she weaves the loose threads at the top back into the weave.

“I hold myself to higher standards than that, and what I said was…” she pauses, frowning as she paused, looking for words. “Not kind. I am very sorry.”

She bends to do the same for the lower part of the frame before deciding to just sit cross-legged on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees that Maglor looks like he is going to say something, but decides otherwise at the last moment. 

She looks up to meet his eyes, halfway through the bottom half of the tapestry. “If you have something to say, I would prefer you say it, you know. I have been a little too honest, and it is only fair that you are offered the same.”

Another crooked smile. 

“I was only going to say that thinking before you spoke has never been your strong suit, but I was not sure if that would be too familiar of a thing to say after… everything.”

To Morinel’s surprise, she actually laughs as she goes back to weaving her loose ends back into the tapestry. 

“You aren’t wrong,” she says, shaking her head. “Though, I like to imagine that over the years as a councilor that I learned to be a little diplomatic. Clearly, I was too hopeful.”

She cuts through the looped warp threads holding the tapestry at the bottom and she stands to cut the loops at the top. 

The tapestry comes loose once she pulls it free, and she’d forgotten how heavy they could get as she staggers backward before she regains her balance, and drops it onto her bed. 

Morinel comes back to the loom and with the tapestry gone it looks forlornly empty – throughout the years she has always been working on something, though she could go months or years taking breaks from her current project. 

The only time she can truly remember it being empty was in the first few weeks after she’d commissioned it – those weeks were her trying to bring herself to actually use without feeling like she was tempting fate. 

This loom has been her companion throughout the ages and she knows its quirks and oddities better than any other she’d practiced on, and Cirdan had said, when she asked, that she could bring it with her if she wished. 

She’d been uncertain before, but her mind is made up now.

“Would you like some help, or would you prefer to handle it yourself?”

The request is made casually, making Morinel free to accept or decline, and she appreciates the choice.

“I think help would be nice,” she says softly, and her uncle rises to come stand by the loom.

Things may not be entirely mended between them yet, but they were getting there. 

[afragmentcastadrift]

We hear that as a child, her favorite color is red. And yet, when we see her, older, stronger, reaching still for a great, wide world beyond, she is swathed in shades of blue. Variations of a raindrop, of the cherished pendant she was told to keep from view. Channeling her loss, and her pride, outward - a defiance, a dare, a declaration.

[rajwadajewels]

Gold Necklace By Rajwada Jewels 

Draped in opulence, the Rajwada gold necklace whispered tales of royalty. Intricate filigree swirled, catching the light like a captured sunrise. Emerald drops, reminiscent of raindrops on ancient leaves, adorned the pendant, symboling prosperity. Each curve and clasp spoke of generations of craftsmanship, whispering secrets of a bygone era. This wasn’t just jewelry; it was a heritage, worn with pride and passed down, a timeless treasure promising to adorn countless dreams. Contact us: (212) 696–9700

[hydrvs]

"I... I've gotten you a little something for Starlight." Though his gaze fixates on the view from the balcony, his voice betrays the light dusting of nervousness he feels. The poet, as ever, is one of whom carries much feeling in all he does - gift giving at such a time of year was naught different. Each he gave was scrutinised and thought over much ere finally selected and he was thus left only to hope that it was liked, in the end.

"I know it is a little early, but - - I wasn't certain I would see you closer to the date so I thought it best to give it to you early." Gloved hands briefly wrung together in front of him ere he removed them one at a time, tucking them into a pocket out of the way. In their place, he brings forth a long box he had been hiding behind him - mayhap the length of his forearm and just as wide - and offers it with the brightest smile he could muster to Serpos.

It's been wrapped in black paper, adorned in a blue ribbon: ever lovingly done.

Inside? 'T was a boot knife, made of raindrop damascus steel, a black leather handle and pommel smothered with beauteous engravings. It hadn't been an easy choice. In fact, it was Lamoureaux tradition heading back through the aged to gift a first love, on Starlight, a piece of jewellery but... The poet couldn't recall if Serpos had his ears pierced, and he didn't know his ring size.. And no bracelet nor necklace seemed to suit quite right. The blade, however... It felt right.

"Happy Starlight, Serpos."

// speciosuspoematis 💙

❝ CYVEL... �� the cherished name slipped easily along the GARLEAN's tongue. the knife was... perfect. he would admit that he never seen a better craft than what he held carefully in his hands as though it was the most precious and fragile art in EORZEA. however, he would call himself a fool if he didn't admit that the ELEZEN wasn't the greatest gift ever bestowed upon him since the day he was pulled from a long induced coma. he wasn't accustomed with STARLIGHT tradition. being a military man and one of the former EMPEROR's most trusted man, such a festive event had never been on his priority.

he carefully placed the blade back into its box for now. he would fit it to some proper boots that fitted the gift rather than those he had chosen to wear to attend CYVEL's reunion.

he had not come empty handed however. he retrieved a small box which had been neatly placed in one of his pockets. he retrieved and handed it over. inside, it was a pendant. there was no gems or goldsmithing worthy material. it was crafted from metallic materials. it resembled a snake swirling a small glowing orb in the middle. the orb was as small as a pearl. it glowed the same colour are the allagan prosthetic holding REGULA's mutilated body together. it was as though CYVEL could carry a small piece of himself wherever he went @speciosuspoematis

[magpiesmiscellany]

K2 granite and rainbow moonstone pendant I wire wrapped.

(I think it takes me longer to get something on my etsy shop than it does to make it in the first place...)

I know it doesn't look it, but the stone is natural, though there's still some (above my geological understanding) arguments about how it formed. It's white granite with azurite spheres that formed after the granite did.

I like how it looks like raindrops or blueberries, making it kind of fun instead of the cold formality I usually associate with granite.

[lilithaine]

INFORMATION & STATISTICS FOR LILITH AINE

“Magic exists. Who can doubt it, when there are rainbows and wildflowers, the music of the wind, and the silence of the stars? Anyone who has loved has been touched by magic. It is such a simple and such an extraordinary part of the lives we live.” — Nora Roberts

ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Full Name: Lilith Eleanor Aine

Nickname(s)/Alias(es): Lily, Lils

Date of Birth: October 12th, 1994

Age: 29

Gender + Pronouns: Female, She/Her

Place of birth: Northknot, CA

Parents: Nikolas (Niko; Vampire) & Seraphina (Sera; Rain Fairy)

Siblings: None

Relationship with family (close? estranged?): They are pretty distant; her parents are not very loving with her.

Pets: None

PHYSICAL:

Height: 5′ 5″ (165 cm)

Build: Slender/Toned

Species: Rain Fairy

Distinguishing Facial Features: She has large, expressive eyes with thick, dark eyelashes, well-defined and arched eyebrows, and full lips

Hair Color: Black

Usual Hair Style: Long & Straight

Eye Color: Brown

Complexion (freckles, acne, skin tone, birth marks, scars): She has a warm, olive complexion that complements her dark hair

Disabilities (physical or mental, including mental illnesses): Anxiety, Depression, PTSD

What do they consider their best feature?: It’s the eyes

Worst they’ve ever been injured (what, how did it happen)?: Her injuries are mostly emotional, unfortunately

APPEARANCE:

Favorite outfit: A flowy, black chiffon dress that has subtle floral embroidery in dark shades paired with a silver necklace with a small black heart pendant; Barefoot

Glasses? Contacts?: No

Personal Hygiene: Delicate, neat, with a soft touch

Tattoos? Piercings?: Ears pierced, One small black heart tattoo on her shoulder that Quinn Morgan did

What does their voice sound like?: Lilith's voice is soft, melodic, and slightly hushed, as if she’s always speaking just above a whisper. Her tone would carry a mix of gentleness and underlying sorrow. When she’s speaking to someone she trusts or is passionate about something, her voice might become slightly more assertive, but still retains its soft, calming quality

Accent?: None

Unique mannerisms/physical habits: She often twirls a strand of her long, midnight-black hair around her finger when she’s lost in thought or feeling nervous. Lily might avoid direct eye contact when she’s feeling vulnerable or doesn’t want to reveal her true emotions. A soft sigh might escape her when she’s overwhelmed or trying to keep her emotions in check, a small outward sign of her inner turmoil. Whenever it rains, Lily instinctively stops whatever she’s doing and takes a moment to just watch the raindrops, finding comfort and peace in the familiar, soothing rhythm

Left handed or right?: Ambidextrous

Do they work out/exercise?: Yes but mostly through dance

BELIEFS & INTELLECT:

Known Languages: Spanish, English & French

Zodiac: Libra

Gifts/talents: Very talented dancer; Very knowledgeable; Herbalism; Pottery; Astronomy; Mediation; Harpist

Religious stance: Not religious but spiritual in a nature-based, ancestor worship type of way

Pet peeves: Lily is particularly sensitive to people who hide their true emotions behind a mask, as it mirrors her own past. She dislikes when people don’t take responsibility for their actions, especially if it affects others. Given her quiet and introspective nature, she finds superficial conversation irritating, preferring deeper, more meaningful discussions. Lily values being heard and understood, so people who interrupt or don’t pay attention frustrate her. Given her secretive past, she is uncomfortable with people prying into her personal life

Optimist or pessimist: Cautiously optimistic; she hopes for the best but prepares for the worst

Extrovert or introvert: Introvert

INTIMACY & RELATIONSHIPS:

Relationship status: In a very new relationship with PJ Simons & Henrietta Wood

Sexual orientation: Pansexual

Ideal mate/qualities they look for in a mate: She looks for someone who is empathetic, patient, loyal, strong (mentally and physically), and can be gentle with her; help her feel safe

Ever been in love?: She thinks so

What’s their love language?: Acts of Service

Most important person in their life?: Her godmother, Charlotte, and her partners, Hen & PJ

VOCATION:

Level of education: PhD in Political Science

Profession: Rain Fairy Clan Leader/Dance Instructor at VC Studios

Past occupations: She didn't work when she was in college or high school

Passions: Besides dance, Lily has discovered a love for botany

Which is more important – money or doing something they love?: Doing something she loves

SECRETS:

Phobias: Abandonment

Life goals: Lily aims to bridge the gap between the Fae who distrust her due to her hybrid nature and bring unity to her clan. She also strives for a life where she can fully control and understand her emotions, moving away from the destructive habits of her past. Her biggest life goal is her dream of creating a safe, peaceful place—maybe a garden or sanctuary—where she and others can find solace and heal from their traumas

Greatest fears: Her greatest fear is opening up completely to someone, showing them every part of herself, flaws, fears, and all, only to be rejected or abandoned as a result

Most embarrassing thing ever to happen to him/her: When she was giving an important speech to her clan shortly after becoming the leader, due to nerves, Lily tripped over her own feet and nearly fell, creating an awkward moment in front of everyone. While she managed to recover and continue, it’s something that still makes her cringe whenever she thinks about it

Something they’ve never told anyone: Lily has never told anyone that, as a teenager, she once packed a bag and planned to run away from home. She couldn’t take the pressure of her parents' expectations anymore, but she ultimately stayed because she feared disappointing them even more

PREFERENCES:

Hobbies: Dancing, writing, stargazing, sketching, gardening

Favorite color: Black

Favorite smell: The fresh, earthy scent of rain hitting the ground

Favorite food: Lily’s comfort/favorite food is anything cheesy, especially a rich, creamy brie or a sharp cheddar

Favorite book: Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

Favorite movie: Black Swan

Favorite song: Everything I Wanted by Billie Eilish

Coffee or tea?: Coffee

Favorite type of weather: Cloudy, Rainy weather, of course

Most used word or phrase?: Given her tendency to hide her emotions, Lily often says “I’m fine” even when she’s far from it, using it as a defense mechanism to keep others from probing too deeply.

EXTRAS:

MBTI: INFJ (The Advocate) - Lily shows traits of an INFJ through her introspective nature, strong sense of idealism, and desire to help others despite her struggles. Her complex emotional landscape, ambition, and desire to make a difference align well with this type

Alignment: Neutral Good - Lilith has a strong sense of duty and strives to do what she believes is right. Her actions are guided by her personal morals rather than strict adherence to law or chaos. She shows a commitment to her clan and personal values while working to improve herself and her relationships

Enneagram: Type 3 (The Achiever) - Lilith’s drive for success, need for validation, and tendency to hide her true feelings align with Type 3 traits. Her desire to excel and impress others while grappling with her self-worth is a core characteristic of this type

Celtic Tree: Holly - Holly symbolizes protection, resilience, and transformation. Lily’s journey from a seemingly perfect persona to a more genuine self, along with her role as a leader and protector, fits the symbolism of the Holly tree

Temperament: Melancholic-Sanguine - Lilith’s melancholic side is reflected in her deep, introspective nature and emotional struggles. Her sanguine side emerges through her charisma, charm, and ability to form genuine connections when she is in a positive environment

Hogwarts House: Slytherin - Lilith’s ambition, strategic thinking, and use of charm to manipulate situations align with Slytherin traits. Her strong drive to succeed and her ability to navigate complex social dynamics fit well within this house

Element: Water - Given her rain fairy heritage, her connection to water is inherent. Water represents emotions, adaptability, and healing—key aspects of Lilith’s personality and her journey from hiding her emotions to embracing them and finding balance

[sweethoneyrose83]

"I slept on the train... and for the first time in a long time... the dreams... I felt accepted by them... I felt no fear as I passed blank faces and lifeless bodies... almost as if they knew... I was coming home...  " Trivia ivory fox ears twitched as she wrote in her journal, then glanced towards the train window covered in raindrops, seeing a sign that said Night Springs, 5 miles. She sighed. Ever since the "incident," she has always been somber. It had been a decade since she lost some of her friends; some were dead, and others chose a different path. Trivia plays with her vintage oval orange stone pendant necklace that was a three-month anniversary present that DogDay gave her when they were dating. But he was gone, never coming back. Did he really even love her, or was that the plan to get CatNap jealous when they were in high school? Trivia closes her eyes, fighting back tears. No, this is no time for tears. She was a member of the Angel Special Forces, a soldier, and soldiers don't cry, at least not now. Trivia glanced down at the pages of her journal as she slowly closed it and put it back into her bag. With heavy sighs, Trivia closed her eyes, remembering who she used to be: fun, caring, and always smiling. She used to be a cheerleader. loved her boyfriend, DogDay with all her heart. Someone that you would say had a bright future ahead of her, then this religious disease started to spread in Poppyseed Summer Camp on August 8th. The infected said they could see the pure ones from the heretics. Trivia jumps upon hearing the train whistle, as it is soon going to pull into the station. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Crafty, Hoppy, and Bobby smiled when they saw Trivia get off the train, and Bobby ran to hug her. "It's so great to see you back, Captain." Trivia has never liked to be touched since that day, but there was an exception when it came to her team; they were the only ones she had left. They were her family. "It was wet, gloomy, and mucky, but I believe I collected the data the boss needed from the outside," Trivia answered, hugging her back. Night Springs was a small town; about 500 citizens lived there. Always raining. 

[fowardfashionfindz]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 28.10CT Natural K2nite Pendant with 925 Sterling silver.

[angelicawatson]

K2 Jasper Pendant: The Blue Berry Stone

K2 jasper, or K2 granite or raindrop azurite, is a rare gemstone exhibiting blue orbs and black flakes on a grey backdrop. It is supposed to promote alertness, intuition, and creativity. A K2 Jasper Pendant is a stunning item that can enhance any ensemble with its elegant and contemporary style. These necklaces are adaptable pieces of jewelry that combine nicely with different outfits and necklines. You may pick from a lengthy necklace with many beads or charms or a small chain with a single K2 jasper pendant.