#I also had to remind myself that I can use my experience in writing - which can extend to editing

[leebrontide]

Every single time I see a take that amounts to "if you write about X happening, or like fiction where X happens, you like X" I'm reminded of this one time I was at a casual friends house as a young kid. We were in her room, pretending to "be orphans" escaping from an evil orphanage and having to take care of each other and fend for ourselves. It was all very Little Orphan Annie/All Dogs Go to Heaven and based on the 80s pop media.

And this girl's mom comes in, hears what we're playing and gets all MAD and UPSET. She says that if we play act something, it's because we want it to happen. So her daughter must WANT HER TO DIE.

First off lady, we were 6 year year olds, so take it down several notches. We barely had a concept of mortality for fucks sake. She made us feel so guilty and ashamed, because she was taking our game personally.

Now I have a 5 year old. And sometimes she looks at me and says "pretend you're dead, and I have to -" Whatever it is. Some adult task she's assigned herself.

And it's just so transparently obvious that she's practicing the idea of having to do things on her own. Which is exactly what 5 year olds are supposed to do. I actually find it very flattering that the only way she can envision me not being available to help her is to be literally deceased. Otherwise, obviously, she wouldn't have to do scary hard things alone.

It's a natural coping mechanism. She's self-soothing about what would happen if I wasn't there by play-acting independence in a perfectly safe environment. She's also practicing skills she needs, and making up excuses for practicing them on her own, without taking on the responsibility of being able to do them by herself all the time yet.

Humans mentally rehearse bad this in their brains all the time. We can do that by ruminating- going over worries over and over again, which tends to lead to anxiety and helplessness and depression. Or we can do it with a sense of play- by recognizing that the fiction is fiction and we can dip our toe into these experiences and expose ourselves to bad things without actually being injured.

My daughter does not want me dead. And I don't want bad things to happen in real life. But fiction and pretend help me face the horrors of the world and think about them without collapsing or messing myself up mentally.

[sastiel-is-my-serotonin]

Trying to remember your skills you've accidentally picked up through fandoms and hobbies is difficult when you don't think they're actual skills because you're self taught in them all is so fun.

#I know they're skills that can help me but their origins are what make me think eh I don't need to put that down #Yes you do bitch - if you want a job you better but down that skill or so help me #Anyway I also forget that because I was always so indecisive about what career I wanted I tried out a lot of things to see if I'd like it #I technically have experience in teaching - had my own class despite being in eighth grade - but didn't like it #I designed games levels through a website where they give you the basic tools bc I was bored #And had my family try and test them as a way to revise if they were too difficult or confusing #I've made several websites that I completely forgot about bc they were for school projects lol #And I always forget that I used to design clothes for years and would make those designs on a small scale for dolls #I also had to remind myself that I can use my experience in writing - which can extend to editing #And I always forget I know how to draw #Like am I am expert at any of these? No #But can I do these things? Yes #And that's a good starting point #And I'm sure there's other things I'm forgetting because I don't deem them as an important skill I have #Like the fact that I helped run a suicide prevention through my church in eighth grade #Where I was a spokesperson - I was in charge of advertising it - created posters fliers and had to talk to multiple people #I had to update my school on it bc it was a heavy project for school that they weren't sure if I could handle #I was in all the meetings with my church and would bring their ideas to spread the word to life #We raised money mostly through food sales - I would prep the food and there I helped with concessions #Fuck I forgot how much I did for that project #Because we sorted through a lot of donations - and had to organize by sizes #Like how did I forget about all that #I remember the project bc it's something really close to home but it didn't feel like enough so when I think about it #I don't remember how much work I genuinely put into it bc of how much the church held us back bc it was ''too much work' ' #Anyway I do have valuable skills but I feel like an impostor in all of them so I forget I can put all of those down

[mosovi-vian]

And I will stay alive for my future self, so they can one day learn to be kind to who I was as a child. And I will teach them to honor who we used to be, so they can remember the comfort of what once was our untempered flesh and gentle soul. Me and myself are each a fresh wound and a rough scab, bearing respectively the gift of green faith and honed will.

This has been in my draft for a while because I was determined to post this only after I knew what I should write underneath it. I’ve read a lot on the concept of healing the wounded inner child since even before my c-ptsd diagnosis. However, I’ve sought as much comfort in my little self as they had in me. Looking back, I was an impressively emotionally-intuitive kid. I remember well how I used to think, the things I would write to my future self; they were wiser and gentler than I could ever hope to be as an adult. Needless to say, the little poem above is inspired by the aforementioned experience. Sure, big me is armed with a more developed pre-frontal cortex and access to invaluable resources (coping mechanisms, therapy, on and offline communities) , but I struggle to rediscover/reinvent my identity. Little me was the biggest vestige of my lost personhood. So yeah, this might be just a huge self-indulgent projection with my favorite character, but thinking that post-S3 Hunter would also be in my shoes is not completely baseless. 16yrs old Hunter is the fresh wound (a lot of things happened before his teen years, but I’m going to interpret the events of Hollow Mind - which happened when Hunter was 16 - as the ultimate boiling point in his trauma timeline, hence the ‘fresh wound') and 20yrs old Hunter is the rough scab. Each version of Hunter could be dealing with a different set of trauma-induced symptoms. I think his loyalty to Belos kept him going as a child. Being doubtless was important to Hunter back then; it held his sense of self together. And maybe when he survived and was rewarded the time and space to grow into his own person and live for himself, there was this lasting emptiness. I feel this sort of emptiness even today. My only reference of what ‘wholeness’ felt like was when I was obedient to my family. I equated self-abandonment as the righteous norm. The symptoms I deal with today are definitely different from when I was Hunter’s age pre-time-skip. Now that Hunter is in a safe space and an adult post-time skip, he might also need to seek that strength from his younger self. Reminding himself of how far he’s come and the parts of him that he'd like to keep from his past. The parts that he knows in his bones are purely his - not instilled by Belos, not inherited from Caleb.

#the two pic look so different lol they were completed with a month in between them #if you actually read the whole thing #thank you means a lot #i hope it made some sense- i rarely put into words these sort of thoughts so im kinda all over the place #hunter toh #hunter noceda #the owl house #the owl house season 3 #toh season 3 #toh #toh hunter #toh s3 #toh s3e1 #toh s3e2 #for the future #thanks to them #toh spoilers #cw: abuse #cw: trauma #hunter deamonne #toh s3ep3 #watching and dreaming #the owl house spoilers #owl house #thank you dana #toh literally saved and changed my life

[astraystayyh]

Invisible Thread- two.

This is the second and final part of Invisible Thread. Here is the link to part one.

pairing: minho x reader. pre-established relationship. reader has she/her pronouns.

genre: fluff and domesticity. angst. healing. characters trying to become better. humans being humans.

cw: parent death. grief. talk about death. allusion to sex but no smut. suggestive at one tiny part but it's for the plot.

summary: In which Minho rewrites your entire relationship with love.

word count: 17k

a.n: this is, i hope, a gentle reminder to always be kind to yourself, and to the people surrounding you. this one is pretty personal because i see myself a lot in yn, but it was also challenging since i wrote about things i have never experienced either. so i hope you'll enjoy reading, and that the second part will live up to your expectations. it took me a long time to write this but it's okay!! English isn't my first language and this was also a reminder to be patient with myself. thank you. i love you all. truly. feedback is highly appreciated, as always <3

(here is a Spotify playlist i made for this second part, you can listen to it while reading if you'd like :))

Love. How lucky yet cursed we are to ever experience it.

The fear attached to this singular emotion seems ridiculous. Because we aren't afraid of experiencing anger, sadness, or nervousness. They might overwhelm us, but we accept them, we recognize them as they are and then we cope with them. Whichever way we know best.

But when love comes knocking on our door, we stray away from it, we try to shape it into something else- much gentler on the soul, less devastating if it were ever not reciprocated.

So, we name it a crush, attachment, infatuation; anything but the cursed four-lettered word- anything but love. As though merely acknowledging it would morph it into a sharp-edged sword, eternally wedged within us, making our blood dribble away slowly and with it, our souls awash.

You are no exception. Love has terrified you for the better part of your life. There was a time when the word did slip easily from your mouth, back when you were a child and your view of the world was still naive, undisturbed by what you now know. You loved ice cream, you loved candy, you loved your teacher who braided your hair.

But then the once light word grew heavy on your tongue. Because love is what made you crave your mother's warmth, only to find coldness awaiting you. It is love that made you seek shelter elsewhere, in the fleeting opinions of the people surrounding you, hanging your entire worth on the words they uttered about you- ones they forgot within hours but you carried for years.

But this view of yours got dismantled, slowly, day by day. You’ve come to learn that it isn't love that had hurt you, it was rather the lack of it.

It cannot be love that wound when it is the emotion swimming in your eyes, whenever they rest on Minho. You didn't dare say it to him, to name the feeling out loud. You were petrified that if it was ever out in the open, then the love would materialize into something tangible, and the universe would snatch it away, as it has done before with everything you've ever wanted.

But although you didn't say it, you felt it, deep within each one of your atoms. It spilled from you like infinite ink, rewriting your entire relationship with love, dismissing every wrong notion you've once established about it.

Love cannot hurt because you love Minho, and you'd hurt yourself before ever hurting him.

But maybe none of you would have to hurt. Maybe for once, you'd both be okay. That's what you'd like to believe as Minho's shoulders brush against yours. You are sitting at your usual table at Limbo, a gray cat sprawled on top of your laps. Finals ended three weeks ago. Summer break is here, the one time you've been dreading since you came to college. Because everyone is going back to their homes, but you don't have one to head back to.

"What will you do this summer?" Minho suddenly asks, putting down his iced americano. You scratch the cat's ears beside you gently- Lilia you've decided to name her. "I don't really have plans."

"Would you like to go camping?"

"With you?"

"I mean, unless you have another secret boyfriend, then yes, with me."

"Shut up," you giggle, swatting his arm playfully. "I'd really like that," you smile softly at him, to which he nods. "Oh, and we still need to celebrate your win this term."

"Mm. Let's just call it a date this time," he grins, taking a spoonful of the salted caramel cheesecake and bringing it to your mouth. "I need to go visit my family for a few days, and then we can go," he adds.

Sudden guilt floods your being. He had a family he could go to. It was selfish for you to want him to stay, to strip him from this privilege you weren't granted with.

"I don't want you to cut your time short with them for me," you mumble, eyes fixated on Lilia soundly dozing off on his lap. It still astonished you how all animals seemed at ease in Minho's presence. As if they could sense his gentle soul, carefully hidden behind his sarcastic retorts, and cheeky smiles- one you were lucky enough to have been touched with.

"I'm not. I just really wanna go camping," he says nonchalantly, but his hand raises to squeeze your shoulder lightly.

"You should go with them."

"I have a two-person tent in mind, it won't fit the three of us. And I want to come back to you."

His words painted a sweet picture- of him returning home after a long journey, and you were that haven he sought to rest. The idea that he'd discover such solace in you when you struggled to find it within yourself, seemed unfathomable to you.

So, you bite your lower lip slightly, before squeezing his knee in gratitude. "Okay. I'll be waiting."

✹✹✹

Blue and orange flames surge higher under the wind. You watch, mesmerized as their light dances upon Minho's skin, painting him with glistening, golden hues. Every feature of his face is chiseled to perfection, as if a sculptor spent hours perfecting his face, down to the tiniest detail. He looked in his element here, setting up your tent and grilling the meat and now looking up at the sky, a chilled lemonade in his hand. You should go camping more often.

Minho places his empty can of cola on the ground, before tapping his lap. "Come here," he smiles and you oblige, rising from your chair and settling on his thighs. You tuck your knees to your chest, curling yourself entirely in his hold. His arms encircle your body, making sure you don't slip down. You close your eyes, as Minho gazes up at the night sky before you. You are comfortable and safe. It is that safety that you've craved for so long. To be held and not fear the threat of a knife behind your back.

It still surprised you, how you came to crave Minho's presence. But it went beyond just being near him; you felt as if you needed to touch him, as if verifying his existence, ensuring he wasn't an ephemeral specter slipping through your fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass. Yet, even more surprising was Minho's own yearning for you. His hands were always drawn to you, subtly grazing your face, resting on your palm, skimming your shoulders. Each tentative touch filled an echoing void within you, slowly diminishing it until all that remained were faint whispers of it.

Minho has cared for you, long before he understood you. He saw snippets and fragments of you, and he cared for the patched-up version he made up in his mind. And when you unlocked your heart for him, he only cherished it even more, silently molding his behavior so he wouldn't cross any of your boundaries.

He was hesitant at first, in holding your hands and kissing your lips. He still asks for permission, in that gentle voice of his, to touch you, in case you’re uncomfortable. Which you aren’t, because his hands on you are infused with care, fingertips dripping with unguarded attention and softness, for you.

You sigh contently, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck as his arms tighten around you. Comfortable and safe.

"What's your favorite word?" he suddenly inquires and you giggle slightly. He often asks you these random questions, as though he wished to understand you in the most ordinary of ways and to care for you in each.

"I think it's the word soft. Whoever thought of the word really nailed it. Nothing else could have depicted softness like this one."

"The word does sound really pillowy, and gentle."

"See, I really love gentle too! Why is the word gentle so gentle? Does that make sense?" Laughter tings your question as he grins, his nose brushing lightly against yours.

"It does. They both remind me of you, actually."

"Really?"

"Mm. You're still so soft and gentle, despite it all... If they ever tell me there is one kind person left on this earth, I'd come looking for you."

Sudden tears flood your eyes as a shaky exhale leaves your lips. It felt rewarding, in a sense, to have someone acknowledge the strength it takes to be kind, in a world that had dealt you nothing but harshness.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"Sometimes..." you pause, racking your brain for the best way to word this. "Sometimes it scares me how much I've come to care for you. How you make opening up not sound as daunting as before."

You grab his hand into yours, fidgeting with his fingers. The familiarity of their touch helps you calm down. "I'm not saying you'll hurt me. I just... I can't help this tiny voice in the back of my mind telling me to be cautious. It's gotten quieter, but it's still there."

"That's just your past selves trying to protect you," he smiles softly at you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "When I told you I'll be here, for as long as you'll have me, I meant it. Doubts and all."

"But I don't want to be closed off anymore," you admit. "It's very lonely that way."

"I know it is, love. But it's what you knew best back then, hm? You shouldn't feel bad about it, you did what you had to do to protect yourself. I'm just here to protect you too now."

"You think I can no longer do it myself?" you tease, your hand threading through his silky hair.

"Of course, you still can. But two shields are better than one. Also, this is exactly why I work out."

"Will your muscles protect me from my mind?" you giggle and he nods proudly. "Have you seen these?" he flexes his arms, before snorting, a bit shyly, eyes squinting closed. He's saying nonsense to make you laugh, and it's warming your heart beyond belief.

"I think these should just stay wrapped around me," you grin, guiding his arms around your back once again.

"No complaints," he smiles, as you settle against his chest. He places a soft kiss on the top of your head and you close your eyes. Safe and comfortable- Minho.

✹✹✹

Summer has been kind to you. Or maybe it was you who has been kind to summer, your laughter filling its air until it could do nothing but mirror your happiness.

Summer tasted like love with Minho by your side. In clementines he peeled for you, feeding you each slice with a soft smile on his face. In spontaneous bike rides at six am, to chase sunrises you've never witnessed before him. In numerous books he bought so you’d read them to him, his head on your lap, a tranquil expression coloring his face. And although the months have all been sweet, there are two days that you remember particularly.

You don't mark up the time with dates, but rather with the new feelings Minho bestowed upon you- the first time you wanted someone to stay, and they did.  

"Baby?" Minho’s hand brushes against your shoulder and you startle, turning around to look at him. "Are you okay? You zoned out."

"I’m fine," the rehearsed lie slips from your mouth, long before you could think about it. A ping of guilt swarms your heart, you’ve promised yourself that you’d tell Minho about your true feelings, even if he couldn’t help you with them.

"Are you sure? You haven’t said a word since I came over..." He quickly glances at his watch, "Three hours ago."

"I’m sorry," you mumble, your thoughts swarming your head once again. You felt horrible for wasting his time. He had better things to do than sit with you in silence.

"I’m not asking you to apologize," he says cautiously as if he’s aware he’s threading along a dangerous line. You stay silent and he shuts his eyes closed, hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I just want you to be honest."

"I am."

"Are you, really?"

"What do you want from me?" you ask a bit breathlessly. You don’t know what you are saying, but you can sense your walls building up, higher than you could ever reach them.

"You’re clearly not fine and I-"

"I am trying, okay? I’m trying, please." You plead; you’re unsure for what exactly. For him to stop prodding, because you don’t have answers for him, not yet. Not when you haven’t understood it yourself.

"I'm going for a walk," he says, abruptly standing. You stay frozen in your place, as he quickly slips his shoes on, before leaving your apartment. You’re trying and it isn’t enough for him.

You don’t move from your place as time slowly trickles by. The seconds morph into minutes and suddenly it’s been an hour and a half since Minho left. There is a tantalizing fear making you stay put as if you ever dare to move a limb, then the stillness would be shattered and Minho wouldn’t come back.

It’s hard to reroute your brain entirely- old habits creep up on you swiftly, and suddenly you’re pulled back into the old you, woven into the web of horrible thoughts stitching all around you. Change feels sweet, with Minho, it feels like hope and the taste of a new beginning, but it is scary and different. And the familiarity of what you were before him calls your name from time to time. It was horrible and lonely, but there were no surprises in it. You knew what to expect at all times.

You could’ve told him that you weren’t feeling good, that you didn’t feel like talking and Minho would’ve understood. Because this isn’t the first time this happened, and it happens to him too sometimes. So, he understands, more than anyone you know. But instead, you lied and denied and Minho left. And you can’t blame it on anyone but yourself.

You grab your phone, its sudden light burning your eyes. You blink repeatedly, as you dial Minho’s number. It rings and it rings, then it goes to voicemail. You try again, through blurry vision. It doesn’t even ring this time- straight to voicemail.

Minho’s left. He’s had enough. You can’t blame him.

Three swift knocks resound loudly on your door. You don’t remember reaching the doorknob, your body’s moving on autopilot, but you pull it open. Minho. Your hold on the handle tightens until your knuckles turn white. You can’t look at him, you don’t want to see his face as he leaves you.

"Why are you crying?" he whispers, dainty fingers gently wiping away your tears.

"Don’t go. Not you too," you manage to utter, and you hear Minho suck in a deep breath, before pulling you tightly to his chest.

"What are you talking about?" he says, as he buries your head in the crook of his neck. The familiar scent of his cologne washes over you- you’ve memorized its earthy notes by heart now, easily recognizable between a thousand smells.

"You've been away for two hours and I called and you- you didn’t pick up. I thought you wouldn’t come back."

"My phone died while I was outside and I lost track of time, and- please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry." He leans away, cupping your cheek delicately. "Im here, you see? Let’s go on a walk, hm?"

"You were just out," you mumble and he smiles at you. "I wanna go with you."

Minho takes off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. He leads you outside, still clad in the bunny slippers he randomly bought you a week ago. His hand is warm in yours. His hand wouldn’t be warm if he was leaving you.

You walk in silence to the park near your home, and Minho sits you down on an empty bench. Your tears are dried up by now, cheeks cold from the night breeze; and his hand is still in yours.

"Chan didn’t leave our dorm for three days." He starts, clearing his throat. "He’s overworking himself, doesn’t even eat the food I make him. And I tried to tell him to take a break today. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t convince him. He’s probably still working on his music right now," he chuckles, but there is no trace of humor in the sound. "And then I come to you and you’re not okay. And I want to help but suddenly I’m pressuring you. And you’re trying, so hard and you’re doing so well and I’m pressuring you instead of helping. And I failed at being there for you both. What good I am if I’m not there for the people I lo- care about?"

"Don’t say that, please. You are good enough. More than enough," you cup his cheek, pressing his forehead on yours. "You’re always here. Don’t ever doubt that. I’m sure Chan appreciates everything you do for him."

"And you?" he asks, tone coated in such raw vulnerability that it knocks the breath out of you. At that moment, Minho was a plain hill, devoid of hidden nooks and crannies- nowhere for him to guard his emotions from you.

"Do you remember that night, when I asked you how I can help you feel yellow?" you ask after a while, and he nods, repetitive blinks rythming his silence. "I used to think that happiness was yellow, that sudden joy that drowns out the world around you. And I wanted to always feel yellow, the highest of highs. But that could only lead to another low, another extreme. I’ve since learned that true happiness is feeling peace when you lay in bed at night…  And for your heart to beat soundly from contentment."

"I remember feeling this way only once, a long time ago. I woke up to see the sunrise, but I was a bit late to it, so I missed the orange and the pink," you chuckle slightly, as the distant memory floods you. "But I saw the blue, this really soft blue, and as I looked at it a strange sense of serenity washed over me. As if, as long as I looked at that pastel blue, I’d be alright. And now…" You smile softly, your thumb delicately grazing his cheek, Now, I can just look at you. You are my blue."

Minho’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as he looks at you, mouth slightly hung agape. You giggle quietly, before patting his head gently. "Thank you for staying," you whisper, and a sudden smile breaks out on Minho’s face. It’s so radiant- as if every star in this galaxy was ground to fine dust and then sprinkled into it. You can’t admire it for long since Minho crashes his mouth on top of yours, drawing you in for a kiss that leaves you breathless afterward.

"You know I had a really nice dream yesterday," he finally whispers against your lips, a newfound lightness in his voice. "I think this is the first time where my reality is much sweeter."

✹✹✹

The first time you felt loved, truly.

It’s a couple of days into August when Chan tells you that he has signed up with a producing agency- it’s a huge step for him, one he’s been rambling about each time you met him for the past few months. So now you’re over at his and Minho’s dorm, attempting to bake a congratulatory cake for Chan. It was Minho’s idea, one he mumbled into your ear nonchalantly, as if he didn’t wake up really early to scout all the ingredients you might need.

"Why is baking so much harder than cooking?" Minho whines, burying his head dramatically in the crook of your neck. You giggle, patting his back in faux sympathy.

"So, you're admitting you're not good at everything?" you tease and he straightens up instantly, brows furrowed as he looks at you.

"I didn't say I'm not good at it. I said it's harder than cooking," he drawls out and you hum in reply, a teasing "sure, sure" escaping your mouth.

"Do you know how to crack an egg with one hand? That's the cue that you're a great baker."

"Why would I when I have two hands?" you chuckle and he smiles cheekily, raising his eyebrows at you. "Well, I can do it."

"Fine," you huff, grabbing an egg onto your hand. "Teach me?" you smile sweetly and he grins satisfied, "Of course."

"Here, you just need to crack the egg gently into the side of the bowl. And then lodge your finger inside, slowly pulling the shell apart. Like this," he demonstrates and you nod in understanding.

"Your turn," he smiles and you follow his instructions, tongue poking against your cheek in utmost concentration.  

"Min look! I did it" You grin widely, turning around to show him the egg now dropped into the bowl.

"You did! I’m proud of you," he smiles, placing a tender kiss on your temple. You pause, the egg’s shell still tightly clutched in your hand. You didn’t drop it into the bowl, and someone’s proud of you for it.

 It’s late into the night, and your stomach is aching from laughing for hours on end. Your plates of cake are on the ground, with only crumbs left on top of it. Minho invited two of Chan’s closest friends over- Felix and Han, so now you’re all playing rounds of Uno, and the poor freckled boy is losing each time.

"This isn’t fair," Felix whines, before stealing a bite of the leftover cake on the table. "This is really good by the way," he compliments and you giggle, turning around to point at Minho, only to find him already looking at you, a soft smile on his face.

"It’s all him," you say, and Chan gets his face impossibly close to your boyfriend’s, a teasing smile on his face. "You love me so much."

"I don’t. Get back," Minho pushes his face away, but you can tell he’s lying, from the fond smile threatening to spill over his mouth.

"Sure," Chan sing-songs, before turning to look at you. You wink at him and he ruffles your hair affectionately, as he always does when he wants to tease you. "Thank you for the cake, yn."

"You’re welcome," you grin as an unfamiliar warmth spread through your chest. Is this how it feels to have a family? People you care for and who care about you in return?

Minho notices the sudden bittersweet expression etched on your face, so he grabs your pinky in his hand, squeezing it slightly. You turn your palm around, before blindly intertwining your fingers with his- something you’ve gotten much better at lately.

"We’ll get going," Han announces when it’s nearly midnight, as he and Felix both get up from the floor. "Sure you don’t want to come to the party?" Chan asks, eyes trained on you and Minho.

"Yeah, we’ll stay the night."

You stand up as well, following Chan to the door and stopping him before he leaves. "You don’t mind me staying the night, right? It’s your dorm too, so I should ask."

"Of course not. You can come over whenever, even if Minho isn’t here. You don’t ever have to ask me, okay?"

"Okay, thank you, Chan," you beam at him, relief coursing through you at his words.

Soon enough, the dorm is silent, and it’s only you and Minho once again. You go to clean up but Minho pulls you by your hand, ushering you toward his bedroom. "Let's leave it to tomorrow," he says, and his voice sounds like warm candle wax dripping down on you. You can’t say no.

You find that he’s already prepared a pair of pajamas for you, spread out nicely on the bed- his grey shirt and a pair of shorts he has apparently overgrown.

"You'll find a box there, under the sink, it’s for you," he announces, as you walk into the bathroom to change. It’s filled with anything you might ever need, tissues and makeup removal and pads and medicine, and your cherry shampoo.

"When did you prepare this?" you ask as you open the door wide for him. He peeks his head inside, eyes softening when they take a glimpse at your figure - wearing his shirt, in his bathroom.

"A month ago, or so. Just in case you ever needed to stay the night." He's so thoughtful, you're starting to believe that the word was molded after him. "Is it enough? do you need something else?" he asks tentatively and you shake your head, squeezing his hand lightly. "It's perfect. Thank you."

"Of course. let's brush our teeth?" he smiles and you nod, grabbing the blue toothbrush he bought for you. He squeezes some toothpaste into it, and your eyes meet in the mirror. You can feel a blush creep up your face, to match the tip of his ears turning pink. It felt innocent to blush at the mere act of brushing your teeth together- at the domesticity of it, and the future hopes that lay within it.  

Minho washes his face with his cleanser and you do the same. He suddenly hoists you up the bathroom counter, before standing between your legs. his arms cage your body, as his doe brown eyes look up at you. "Do my skincare for me," he pouts and you giggle, diligently taking the moisturizer and applying it to his face.

You take your time, massaging it into his skin, rubbing soothing circles on his cheeks and the tender skin under his eye. His eyes close at your touch, body leaning forward and pressing onto your legs. You grab his lip balm, applying it evenly to his puckered lips, and then you kiss him. Softly, tenderly, hands going up and down his arms. His own find your waist, encircling it, thumbs skimming your sides.

You lean away, a giddy smile on your face. "Thank you for the lip balm," you say, before kissing the tip of his nose.

Minho's room smells like clean laundry and vanilla, courtesy of the candle he lit up. You've been here before, but this is your first time sleeping on his bed. He goes in first, before beckoning you in. You lay down on his silky pillow, your hair fanning all around you. Some strands of it go into your mouth, and you giggle faintly as you pull them away.

"Here," he says, leaning over your body and opening the drawer next to you. He takes out a hair tie, and a faint memory dances around in your mind- you tying up his hair at the convenience store near Limbo.

"You kept it?" you question incredulously, voice coming out in a faint whisper.

"I did," he says simply as if it's ridiculous for you to expect otherwise. "Can I tie it up for you?" he asks and you nod.

His fingers gather your hair, making sure no strands of it are escaping. They're magical, relieving every tension you have in your body. You feel him twisting the tie around, securing your hair in a low ponytail.

"All done." his voice is quiet, and so is the kiss he presses onto your shoulder.

You both lay down, facing each other. It's silent but it no longer scares you. Not when your fingers are grazing Minho's palm, tentatively, the way one dips their toes into the water to test its temperature. Your hands are dancing around one another, not yet holding each other, as if engaged in a dance only your body understands. His eyes are locked on yours- a brown shade so mesmerizing you wish you could paint the entire universe with it.

His gaze is always soft when it comes to you, pupils slightly dilated, eyelashes fluttering with each blink. They're so quick you almost can't catch them, as if he unconsciously wants the time in which he looks at you to last longer.

Minho's hand reaches behind you, before pulling the slipping comforter over your body. He tucks it in your sides, and warmth surrounds you everywhere; from him mainly. He's been so attentive to you tonight- a silent care you only truly appreciate when you've experienced a lack of it. It's as if he's pouring years' worth of missed love back into your life, and in return all the love you've held within, never bestowed upon anyone else, has found its sole destination in the man by your side.

Your hand circles his once again, and you watch intently the way your fingers graze one another, delicately, as if skimming on the edge of holding one another. You give in first, intertwining your fingers with Minho’s and squeezing them gently. They fit his perfectly, this is where they're supposed to be.

"I don't know what you’re doing to me," he whispers, his eyes locking onto yours once more. There is a newfound emotion gleaming in his gaze- incredulity, at the depth of his feelings.

"What do you mean?" you question, nuzzling closer to him. Your head finds its rest on his arm and he responds instantly by patting your hair.

"I want to keep buying toothbrushes for you." His voice is hushed and yet it resounds loudly within your being, as if shouted from a sky-high rooftop.

You exhale softly, curling your hand around the back of his neck, and pulling him down gently to your face. You press your lips on top of his, and they move slowly, deliberately, like a painter's careful strokes. Each touch of his lips against yours is there to make you feel something- things that he can't bring himself to say, so he shows.

You finally break apart, dazed from the raw emotions barging into your heart. You then lift your head slightly, planting a tender kiss on his forehead. Minho closes his eyes, as your lips linger in there far longer than necessary. They remain closed even after you pull away, and it is the look on his face that pushes you over the edge. The serenity painted across his features, but particularly, the trust. As if you could mold him however you want and he'd be grateful you ever touched him to begin with.

"I love you," you confess so suddenly, and the words feel foreign yet familiar as they stumble out of your lips. You expect a shift in the universe, a disastrous change as you verbalize this sentiment that's long haunted you. And yet, all that happens is Minho's eyes shimmering as they look at you. And you realize that you aren’t scared he'd twist the words and stab you with them. You know he'd cherish them, even if he didn't feel the same.

"I love you," he says back, a radiant smile lighting up his face, coloring each of his features in unadulterated happiness. Hearing those three words from him made your heart leap in your chest. There is so much more of what you feel that you wish to express. You’ve told him, but you want to show, to press your body to his so the feeling would emit from your heart to his own.

Your hand trails across his chest, and you feel his muscles constrict under your touch. "Can I?" you ask, gazes flickering between his eyes and the hem of his shirt. It's always about permission to you both- permission to touch, to feel, to kiss and the answer is always yes. Yes, yes, yes.

"Please," he whispers, and you tug his shirt quickly over his head. You are a goner after that when his hands caress your skin like you're delicate porcelain. He’s hovering over you, the candle's shadow dancing across his body. Your fingers are tracing every inch of his skin graced by the flickering light, which meant your hands were everywhere, and every touch of yours was mirrored by him. Every kiss he returned ten times fold, every gasp he drank in hungrily, only eliciting a louder one in return.

"Tell me if you’d like to stop," he smiled tenderly down at you, his nose nuzzling against yours. You never felt the need to. And as the night marched forward, you gradually grasped what the poets meant by ‘making love’. You felt as if you were truly making love, as if your every move conjured love in its purest essence between the two of you. The ebb and flow of your bodies served as a spell, heightening your emotions into a raw fervor. It was love that orchestrated your moves, binding you both in a cacophony of sweet sounds, meant for you only to hear.

Minho's gaze remained fixed on yours, as he uncovered parts of you you've never dared to show anyone. It only cemented every feeling you harbored towards him. And the safety. The safety of being in his arms. To be as bare as one could possibly be, and yet to still feel blanketed by his soft eyes on you. 

✹✹✹

Dainty snowflakes coat the outside world in a pristine white blanket. It’s a mesmerizing view, one you’ve grown to be grateful for these past few weeks since it signaled the return of winter, and with it, Minho’s birthday.

It's hard to resent snow when it welcomes the existence of the person you’ve fallen in love with.

The outside might be cold but you wouldn't know, not when you are nestled close to Minho, his legs thrown over your lap. You stare fondly at his figure, too engrossed in eating the birthday cake you’ve prepared for him- a vibrant green frosting and a picture of his three cats printed on top, just like he requested some time ago. You lean in a bit, wiping away a trace of whipped cream from the corner of his mouth. He smiles at you tenderly, angling his head to press a soft kiss on your thumb pad.

There is a growing lump in Minho's throat, but it doesn't suffocate him, since it's formed by your love for him- you remembered what he said about the birthday cake. He was joking, obviously. But the fact that you brought his ridiculous wish to reality warmed him beyond belief.

You rummage a bit in your place, hands tucked under the pillows, and then you take out a purple envelope. "Open it," you say as you place it on top of his lap. Minho puts his plate down, straightening out in his place before looking at you, a curious smile on his face.

"More surprises?" he asks, referring to the gift you’ve already given him- a pair of t-shirts, all with cats and silly scriptures imprinted on them.

"Mm," you hum, as Minho finally opens the envelope. He pauses, as his eyes rack furiously over the content of the letter. "What's this?" he asks dumbfounded, trying to fully grasp the meaning of what he's reading.

"Because of constellations, people often think that stars always live together in a cluster. But oftentimes, they are alone. Or... if they're lucky enough, they get to roam the universe with a partner. They call them a binary star. Like you and me." Emotion simmers beneath your words, and you continue, your voice a gentle undercurrent.

"It's comforting to know that other versions of us are going through this world side by side too. To know that long after we're gone, there would still be two stars discovering the universe together, orbiting around one another. A token of the love we lived." You lift your gaze to meet his, to find him staring in awe at you. You take a mental picture of this moment, adding it to the collection of the ones you already captured of him.

"Our love may not be revolutionary, we're only two humans out of billions that have adored before us. But our love is grand to me. I try..." you bite your lip, reaching out for his hand- it will guide you as you try to speak. "I always try to find the words to describe how much you mean to me, to tell you how much you do to me. I used to always hold my hand out, in the hopes that someone would grab it. But no one did, so I curled it into a tight fist. And I thought it'd stay this way, for the rest of my life. Until you came, and you unclenched my fingers gently, one at a time, and then you grabbed it into yours." Tears are trailing out of your eyes now, but you show no effort to wipe them. Happy tears shouldn't be swept away.

"Thank you for existing, my Minho," you smile softly at him, and he nods, tears brimming in his waterline, cheeks flushed pink at your words. "Thank you for kissing my finger pads and reminding me that there is still softness in this world, all embodied in you." You cradle his cheeks tenderly in your hands, trying your best to let your love seep through your fingertips into his soul.

"I think you've carved yourself into me, carved your name into my heart. Your roots intertwined with mine, and thanks to you, I managed to crack through the hard earth and bloom again. Thank you for making me feel the warm sun again. I was so so cold before you." You whisper the last part, like a sinner's confession, eager for it to be carried away, forgotten.

Minho brings your body to his, as he buries his face in your chest. You can feel slight tremors shaking his body, and you place soft kisses on his shoulder blade- soothing, calming. You are safe in my love for you, they spell out.

"I can't believe you’ve named stars after us," he mumbles against you, and your fingers thread through his hair gently, flattening out stubborn strands of it. "It's nothing," you smile and he shakes his head vehemently. "It's not- it's not nothing to be loved by you. It's everything to me."

He leans away, bringing your head down to press his lips into yours. It tastes sweet from the cake and salty from his tears. It tastes like healing. You both kiss for mere seconds and yet it feels like an eternity to you. As if your mind stretches out time with Minho, knowing how valuable it becomes with him. He presses his lips onto yours one last time, before exhaling softly, melting completely in your hold.

"As long as you're with me, I don't ever need to look at the sky," he whispers. "There are enough stars in your eyes for me."

✹✹✹

It’s late December and the fragrant aroma of hot chocolate fills your apartment. You’re preparing two cups of the cozy drink in your kitchen, while Minho watches you fondly, leaning casually on the doorway.

"Are you just gonna stare at me?" you giggle, turning around to toss him a sly smile.

"Do you need my help making hot chocolate?" he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes, I wouldn't say no to a bit of emotional support."

"Ah, my bad," he playfully bows, walking over to you. Minho gently wraps his arms around your waist, leaning his chin on your shoulder. His bangs tickle the side of your face, akin to the brush of a butterfly’s wing, and a soothing sense of contentment washes over you as he holds you close.

Minho places a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, and the touch sends shivers along your spine. "This is for warming up the milk," he mumbles, adding another kiss to your neck, "and this for mixing in the hot chocolate powder," and a final one to your temple, "and this is for pouring it in cups."

"Why thank you," you giggle, turning around to hand him his cup. "Do you remember what episode we stopped at?"

"37," he replies instantly.

"I think you love this anime more than me," you pout jokingly. "I plead the fifth," he answers solemnly and you chuckle as you both make your way to the couch.

Merely one episode in and you can already tell that Minho is no longer focusing on the show. He’s absently swirling the drink in his hand, his gaze lost within his cup.

"What did the poor hot chocolate do to you?" you smile, a beacon of curiosity piercing through his daze. His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, turning around to look at you sheepishly. "Just zoned out."

"I noticed. What's on your mind?" you ask, lowering the volume of the TV to fully focus on him.

"There is an upcoming dance competition. It's at a regional scale and I'm just... wondering if I should participate."

"You should!" you fervently reply, "You're such a talented dancer. You deserve recognition for your hard work."

"I'll become very busy, though. It's already hard enough to manage this degree," he speaks softly as if he's not fully convinced of this excuse himself.

"I've never seen you as happy as you are when you're dancing. You'll handle it, and I'll be there for you too."

"I should do it, right?" he asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You really should," you echo, your hand rubbing reassuringly across his arm.

"Okay. I will," he nods, and you beam at him, before pulling him in for a comforting hug.

"On second thought... Everyone will now see how talented my boyfriend is and they will fall in love with you," you playfully muse as you hold him close.

"But everyone's already in love with me," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Mm, the heartthrob of campus."

"People throw themselves right and left at me, it's exhausting," he sighs, the giddy smile easily heard in his voice.

"Okay, now you're overdoing it," you giggle and he further buries his head in your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume. "Don't worry," he mumbles quietly, "I'm only ever yours."

As weeks meld into months, your days become a whirlwind of preparation for the dance competition; where each participant is required to create a choreography from scratch, for a song of their choosing. You witness firsthand the immense effort Minho pours into this, just as he does with everything he undertakes. He spent hours upon hours in the university's dance studio, and you were often there with him. While he practiced, you sat in a corner, working on your laptop. He only paused to kiss the top of your head before diving back into his practice.

He chose a song you've never heard before, called Taste. It was mesmerizing to witness him become a vessel for the melody, like an instrument attuned perfectly to the emotions the song tried to convey. His body moved sensually, flowing like fluid water, perfectly controlled by him. Every beat in Taste was matched with a move of his, powerful enough to capture you, gentle enough not to overwhelm you, like the ebb and flow of the waves brushing against the shore.

The first two months slipped through the hourglass of time in a breeze. And although Minho grew busier, you still both managed to carve out time for quick dates. Strolls by the ocean and spontaneous trips to the cinema- outings that helped you recharge fully once again. But the third month coincided with your midterm exams, casting a heavier cloud over both of your lives.

Minho became overwhelmed, quickly, bearing the weight of his two worlds. He was smart, immensely so, he could handle his classes with ease, retaining knowledge faster than anyone you knew. But the day only had twenty-four hours in it, and he couldn't possibly do it all- finding time to practice, study and take care of himself. So, you tried to handle the last part, as best as you could anyways. Exam seasons always took a heavy toll on you- both physically and emotionally. It also didn't help that you went down with a strong flu for two weeks, making your energy levels plummet to zero.

It was only three days before the start of your exams when a soft knock resounded on your door. You opened it to find an exhausted Minho. He’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, beads of sweat glistening on his upper brow.

"I'm tired," he whispers, eyes looking absolutely devoid of emotion as they align with yours. You smile softly, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside, "I know."

You lead him to the bathroom and he follows silently. He's so compliant in your hands as if all the energy in his body was sucked out of him. "Bad day?" you ask, as you peel away his blue hoodie.

"Very." He says, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay. You're here now," you try to keep your voice just as quiet as you take off the rest of his clothes. You undress quickly as well, before pulling you both to the shower.

Minho rests his forehead on your back, as you check the water temperature. When it's warm enough to feel soothing on his skin, you pull him underneath the jet, and you both stand in there for a while. His head hung low, now buried in the crook of your neck; his breaths growing slower, more even.

"You did well, my Minho," you say, voice threatening to get lost in the sound of the water hitting the tiles, but Minho catches it. He tightens his hold on you in response.

Minho can feel you reaching over and grabbing something from the rack behind him. He recognizes the smell of your shampoo as you pour it in your hands, before lathering it gently on his hair. He almost starts crying right there and then, as your fingers skillfully massage his scalp. You are everywhere, pressed to his body and your hands in his hair, and your cherry scent that’s washing all over him. And the outside world suddenly seems so far away.

You rinse off the shampoo, before grabbing your conditioner and threading it through his hair, making sure that every strand is evenly covered. He shuts his eyes closed, as your hands move to his neck and start massaging it. He's so sore from all the dancing, tired from the studying he has to catch up on. But you’re making him feel okay now, as you unravel his nerves without uttering a word. How do you do it? He wants to ask; how do you always paint his world blue?

Your hands are trailing over his body now, not sensually, just easing the knots in his muscles. You're spreading body wash all over him, and his eyes are still closed, as he feels you place tender kisses on his soapy skin. ‘I love you', your voice reaches him like a faraway lullaby, 'you've been working so hard', 'I'm proud of you'; and your comforting words morph into hot tears lodged into his waterline, begging for an escape.

You finally turn the water off, before pulling him outside and wrapping a towel around his waist. He sits idly on the edge of the bed, as you quickly put on your clothes, before walking over to him. You help him wear his pajamas, the ones he's left in your apartment since he often stays the night. He can't move a limb, but you're doing it in his place- as if the life in you was blown into him, and he's only breathing thanks to you.

Once you’re both fully clothed, you sit behind Minho on the bed, legs on either side of his body. You grab a towel you warmed in advance and begin to gently dry his hair with it, patting each strand with care. As soon as you're done, Minho turns around, nestling his head against your stomach. You let him, hands rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"I already told you, but I'm very proud of you," you say, head lowered so he'd be able to hear you. "I'm so amazed by your strength and hard work. You inspire me a lot, Min. Just keep on going, and if you need a break, you can rest by my side, okay?" You place a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

"I love you," you add softly, and Minho tightens his hold on you. And then he crumbles. Completely.

He falls apart in your arms, painful sobs racking through his body. You panic, as the unfamiliar sounds knock your breath away. You've seen Minho cry before, single tears that managed to escape from his eyes, trailing on his cheeks. But you've never seen him so shattered, so consumed by his pain that he could no longer contain it. You’re caught in his storm, as uncharted waves of his hurt crash against your shores. Has he been hurting all along? Were you this oblivious to the pain brewing inside him?

Your body’s shaking as you press your chest to his back, your arms cocooning his curled-up figure. You try your best to shield him; you don't know from what exactly, but you know it has to go through you first to get to him again.

"I'm so- sorry you have to see me this way," he hiccups, his words digging their claws deeper into your chest.

"Don't say that, baby, please. It's okay, you can cry as much as you want. I'm here."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, voice quivering, and you can feel your heart slowly cracking, hurting in depths you haven't thought existed before.

"Minho, I don't- I don't only love you when you're happy. I love you when you're angry and frustrated and when you're sad. You deserve kindness and you deserve to be kind to yourself because you are still Minho. My Minho. No matter what emotion you're feeling."

"Please stay with me," he pleads softly, and you bite your lower lip, as traitorous tears escape your eyes and land on his shirt. "Where would I go, love? You're my home. I'm here."  

✹✹✹

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. 

The thought that's been reverberating within your mind, echoing since the moment Minho crumbled in your embrace.

Selfish. 

Of course you are, since you remained oblivious to his own struggles as he slowly chipped away, until he shattered unexpectedly. Akin to a seemingly sturdy building, struck by a minor vibration and suddenly reduced to ruins.

Selfish. 

Each time you sought solace in him, you failed to realize that he was stripping away his layers to shelter you. You took and took from him, each time you called, each time he came over to brush away your tears. Your endless bad days didn't leave room for his struggles, unperceived amidst your turmoil.

Selfish and horrible. You weren't made to be loved. 

Minho is sleeping right next to you. He looks peaceful, endearing bunny-like teeth peeking through slightly parted lips. He's undisturbed, like a placid river, until someone selfishly decides to skip some stones in it- you. 

His chest rises and falls, erasing all remnants of his previous breakdown, like a scripture on sand washed away by the waves. You could almost forget it ever happened if it wasn't for the persistent echoes of his sobs. Raw pain had seeped through him, yet it could have been different. If you had asked more, he might have unraveled slowly. He would have talked and he would've never had to explode. 

Selfish and guilty. There's a bitter taste in your mouth. It doesn't go away when you hastily gulp down water.

You'll keep your problems to yourself. There is enough for him to bear already. By sharing your load, you aren't diminishing it, only adding more to his. 

You can't let your mother be right. Not about this. Not when it comes to Minho. You can't ruin his life too. 

✹✹✹

You are being distant. 

Minho notices it straight away when you stop coming over to his dorm. When you find excuses to not come to Limbo anymore, accounting it for the exams you're both taking. But he knows it's just excuses. You are straying away from him. Your light that shone on him every day suddenly turned into a distant lighthouse beam. 

And it's his fault. 

He's embarrassed by his outburst. How he broke down right in front of you. How he clung to your arms, counting on your words and touch to stitch him back together. How he wasn't enough for himself, but you were. 

Guilt floods his being, making you sadder when you're already dealing with so much. He recounts your tears dripping into his hair, as you hugged him tightly to your body. He made you cry; he shouldn't have broken down. That's why you're staying away. He can't blame you. 

He misses you. He saw you this morning and yet he misses you. Because you weren't there with him, you were somewhere else, in a faraway place in your mind. What if he can't reach you anymore? He wasn't sure what to do with himself without you. 

It's 11 pm, and he's knocking softly on your door. You open it and he smiles tightly. You smile back. 

He hovers around the entrance of your apartment, hands tightly clasped behind his back. You unclasp them, interlocking your fingers with his and leading him to your couch. You are warm, he missed you. You are here and he misses you. 

You both sit down, and you're looking at him curiously. His eyes fall to your lips, pillowy and rosy and he can't help pressing his mouth onto yours. It'll give him the courage to speak. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your lips and you lean away, confusion clearly written across your features. 

"For crying the other day," he clarifies. "I've made you uncomfortable and you feel like you have to be cautious around me, and I'm sorry, I won't do it again." 

"What are you saying? You didn't- you never..." you suck in a deep breath, inching closer to him.  "Minho, don't ever apologize for that. please. You should never apologize for being human."

"But you are being distant," he says in a small voice, avoiding your eyes. 

"Minho, I..." you bring your hand to his cheek, locking your gaze with his. "It's not what you think. I promise."

"Then what is it?"

You bite your lip, sighing loudly before speaking again. "You sobbed. And I had no idea you were hurting that much inside. I am so reclined on myself that I didn't notice. And I tried to distance myself so I'd sort my thoughts out. So, I could be there for you, fully. You're always here for me, and I feel... As if I failed you." 

It's now his turn to cup your cheek, his thumbs gently brushing against your skin. 

"I felt so loved by you that day. That's why I cried. because I've never felt that way before," he's quick to explain. "Yes, I was stressed and overwhelmed but it's not your fault. You were there for me when I needed you most. You didn't fail me; how could you think that?" 

"Because it should've never gotten that bad. If I had noticed before, then I would've helped you and it wouldn't have gotten that bad for you. You don't deserve to feel sad, not when you’re... You. Someone like you shouldn't feel sad." 

"Didn't you say we're humans? Isn't that what humans do? They fall down and they get up, I can't always be fine. It's not your fault." 

"Minho you don't understand... How much more of yourself can you give to me, without hurting yourself in return?" You're so sure of these words you're uttering, as if you've drilled them into your mind by now. You couldn't be more wrong. 

Minho blinks repeatedly, trying to gather the words in his mind properly. You weren't distancing yourself from him, because he had hurt you. But rather, so you wouldn't hurt him anymore. So, you'd be there for him more. A sudden relief floods his being. He isn't losing you. 

Minho can't help the chuckle that escapes his mouth. He shakes his head slightly as he brings you to his chest. You're so warm as you wrap your arms around his waist. He still misses you but you're here, you aren't going anywhere. 

"You memorized my coffee order. And my favorite pudding. You always bring me one when you come over. When you find a new flavor, I haven't tried, you always buy it for me. You look at me so excitedly when I try it. As if me finding a new favorite pudding brings your personal joy," he's talking softly, slowly, in the hopes that you'd understand what he means. 

"You love spicy food, but you always cook without it when I'm with you. Because I can't handle it as well as you. You put snacks and water in my bag when I have dance practice, and then you come to check on me, even when you're busy too. You bought me an umbrella, and you placed it near the entrance of my dorm, so I wouldn't forget it. You give me the opened chopsticks package first, and you blow on my food so it wouldn't burn my tongue. And you let me pick the movie, every time. You let me pick it," he places a soft kiss on your shoulder, tightening his hold on you. 

"You brush my hair away from my eyes when you think I'm asleep. And you make sure the blanket covers my body entirely, even if it means it doesn't cover you. I've never had that. Never had someone care for me this gently. Even when I'm not awake and I can't give them anything in return." 

He leans back, smiling softly at you. There is a new palpable emotion in the air- love, in its most unconditional form. It smells fragrant and sweet- like you and him. 

"I notice everything you do for me, every way in which you love me. You're here for me in more ways than you can ever imagine. And I love you. Please don't stray away from me. Promise me," he pouts slightly, nudging his pinky toward your face. You giggle in defeat, before wrapping your pinky with his. 

"Didn't you think pinky promises were silly?" 

"Nothing you like is silly."

"Not even that cheesy drama I watch?" 

"Okay. Maybe that one is. But it makes you laugh," he trails off. "If it makes you laugh then I like it too." 

"You'll talk to me more, right? About whatever's bothering you? When you're not feeling black yet?" 

"I will, I promise. You too, right?"

"Mm. I will too." 

"Good," he smiles, pecking your cheek softly. "I've missed you. And I don't mind feeling all the colors of the rainbow, as long as you're near me."

✹✹✹

The voices of your friends singing you happy birthday reaches you like the distant chirping of birds, fading away in the back of your mind with each passing second. You know that Mina is smiling at you, her head resting on Jeongin’s shoulders. And that Chan, Han and Felix are all clapping excitedly, their voices blending together in a somewhat harmonious melody. But you can’t seem to focus on any of it. Your eyes are set on Minho, who’s walking over to you, a vibrant pink cake in his hand. The surface of it is covered in candy- marshmallows and macaroons, and a dozen of lit candles. Their light flickers on Minho’s face, casting an ethereal glow on him.

And as your widened eyes meet his, he knows that it all just clicked in place for you.

Four months ago.

"What did you like to do, when you were younger?"

You stay quiet for a few moments, mulling over Minho’s question. The waves crash softly at your feet, the sound of them and Minho’s arms around you serving as a perfect cover to thread through your childhood once again.

"I had a bunny plushie. My aunt gave it to me one day when her daughter didn't want it anymore. She was going to throw it out, but I took care of it. We took care of each other, in a way. I used to stay alone at home a lot, and Caramelo would keep me company."

"Caramelo?" he giggles and you pinch his arm playfully. "I was six when I named it, sue me."

"Mm, and where is Caramelo now?"

"I left it in the house. I packed in such a hurry and it didn't fit in my suitcase. But I really wanted to bring it," you smile sadly and Minho can sense a shift in your tone, so he trails his hands across your arms gently, pulling you even closer to his chest.

"What else did you like?" he asks, placing a kiss under the shell of your ear.

"Playing in the playground, there was one really near home. I'd sneak out and go play in the swing, but there was no one to push me higher there," you chuckle slightly, burying yourself further in Minho's embrace. 

"Oh, but I met a girl there when I was eleven, Lydia, I think. She was our neighbor, and she invited me to my first ever birthday party. Her parents prepared this huge cake for her, it was all pink with so much candy on top. I kept dreaming about having a similar one for my birthday. We also painted each other's nails and put on facemasks, and then we watched a movie. It was really fun," you recall, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. You were really shy and didn't talk to the other girls present, staying away in a corner. But Lydia grabbed your hand and pulled you next to her. She didn't let go during the entire movie.

You hoped she was okay, wherever she might be now.

"And... my mom took me one day to a hill near our home. We sat on a bench there, overlooking the city's lights. We didn't talk but she braided my hair since it kept getting in my mouth. That's my favorite memory with her."

Your voice is carried away with the wind, drowned in the waves. You hoped that one day your childhood memories will come back to you, like the sea foam dissolving at your feet. Gentle, incapable of hurting you anymore. 

"You know what I really want now? A big cake for my birthday too," Minho suddenly whines and you giggle, turning around to look at him.

"Want me to bake it for you?" you tease and he nods, cradling your face between his cold hands. They warm up once they rest on your cheeks.

"Yes. I want the cats’ pictures printed on it, and..." he trails off, looking up at the sky. "I want it to be green.”

"Green?" you chuckle. "Isn't that a bit weird for a cake?"

"Are you questioning my vision?" he wiggles his brows at you, his hands coming to your sides.

"I am," you laugh, as he starts to tickle you, unwaveringly. You fall to the sand, and he's on top of you, hands roaming your body as loud laughter erupts from you.

Minho’s eyes soften as he gazes at your laughing figure, but he doesn't stop, not until you tap his arm multiple times, happy tears trailing from your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Green is perfect, you are a genius!"

"Why thank you," he smiles, before leaning down and kissing your tears away. You shiver slightly, from the cold and the feel of his soft lips on your skin. He notices.

"Come on," he outstretches his hand and you grab it, standing up and dusting your pants. Minho squats slightly in front of you, and you giggle before climbing on top of his back.

"Don't you ever wonder who was the person who invented tickling? They were just sitting down and then they touched someone and they started laughing,” he suddenly muses.

"Right! And then they decided this was something they should keep on doing, and it stuck around for centuries."

"I think it's really cute. It says I love the sound of your laugh so much that I will sit there and tickle you just to hear it."

"And you just tickled me," you trail out. "I know," he mumbles, the tips of his ears suddenly turning pink.

"I like your laugh too, Minho."

"Just like?" He teases, in a futile attempt to diffuse his shyness. 

"I love it. I love it so much I could pay my entire life savings just to keep on hearing it again."

"Stop," he whines and you giggle, swinging your dangling feet in the air.

"Have you ever heard your laugh? No other melody can compare. At this point, musicians should just retire."

"You're insufferable," he finally laughs and you sigh, melting into his back.

"And you like me."

"And I love you."

Present time

The realization dawns on you like a floodgate- Minho is recreating your happiest childhood memories.

From the pink cake of your dreams. To the obnoxiously glittery nail polish he brought home three days ago, spontaneously, you foolishly assumed. He insisted on having a pampering night, where you both applied face masks to one another, bunny headbands tucking your hair out of your face. You giggled as he painted your nails with the utmost concentration, and then begged you to paint his in return. He didn't explain why he wanted pink nails suddenly, you should've known. 

You should've known when he suddenly knocked on your door at midnight, taking your sleepy figure to the playground near your apartment. "Why are you here so late?" you questioned, rubbing your eyes tiredly. 

"We are sneaking out," he whispered in your ear, and you didn't question his flawed logic- who were you sneaking out from exactly? But all was forgotten as he pushed you in the swing, fueled by your growing high-pitched giggles. "Higher?" he shouted and you laughed loudly, the sound of it echoing around the park. "Yes, higher!" Until you felt as if you were close enough to touching the stars. 

You should've known. 

Minho places the cake on the table, his warm hand finding your lower back. He rubs it soothingly, as you mouth a heartfelt "thank you" to him, hot tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. You couldn't speak, afraid of bursting into sobs in front of all your friends. He understands what you're referring to.

It's far later into the night when your friends finally leave Minho's dorm. You've all cleaned up the place, soft music emitting from the speakers. You didn't need songs to fill the silence, the conversations flowing easily between you all.

You gather all the gifts you've received and take them to Minho's room- a pair of shoes you've been raving about from Mina and Jeongin, and new headphones from Chan, Han, and Felix, since your old ones stopped working not too long ago.

"You're okay?" Minho asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

"Better than ever," you beam at him, cupping Minho's neck and meeting his lips in a tender kiss. 

"I'm still not done," he smiles secretly, brushing his lips against yours once more, before pulling away. You watch, curious as he heads towards his closet and takes something out of it. Your eyes grow wide as they settle on the gift in his hands. You can feel your lip quivering as you walk hastily over to him. 

"Is this...?" you ask incredulously and he nods, a happy smile on his face. "Your Caramelo."

"How... When?" you stammer, as happy tears blur your vision, "How did you do it?"

"I have my ways," he smiles assuredly at you. "Do you like it? I'm sorry if I overstepped by bringing it to you," he adds softly, a hint of vulnerability in his words.

"No, Minho, this is the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. I can't believe it- I... I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he smiles, his hand rubbing your arm affectionately. "I figured this plushie should be in a loving home, with you. It helped you back then and now you're strong enough to help it in return."

There are overwhelming emotions that we can't quite express with words- like sorrow, sadness, or in your case, happiness. That's why touch was invented, you believe. As you pull Minho for a bone-crushing hug, Caramelo snug between your chests, you hope that he can feel everything you failed to express through words. That your soul will speak to him in a way your mouth couldn’t. 

"When you told me there is a friend of yours, who lived in my town. There was no friend, right?" you mumble into his neck.

"No, I just wanted to know your address," he whispers, arms tightening around your waist.

"Did you meet my mom?"

"Yes. She's the one who gave it to me."

"Did she tell you anything... about me?" you ask cautiously.

Minho remembers snippets of his conversation with your mother- the indifference she showed towards you, as if it wasn't her daughter, her flesh and blood that she discarded away so easily. 

"Nothing of importance. I promise you."

"Thank you," you whisper, voice caught up in your throat, bound by the ropes of your overflowing emotions. "Thank you for healing me."

Sleep didn’t come easily to you that night, and as Minho snored quietly next to you, you untangled your limbs from his, before heading to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. 

You find that the lights are already on and that Chan is working on his laptop, eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at his screen.

"Hey," you greet softly, careful not to startle him. 

"Our birthday girl," Chan grins and you chuckle quietly, before settling next to him on the couch. 

"What are you working on?" you question, taking in the different settings displayed on his screen.

"Just a new song," he shrugs sheepishly, "I'm almost done with it." 

"That's nice," you mumble, tucking your knees into your chest. 

"I suppose Minho already gave you your gift," Chan speaks softly and you startle, turning around to look at him. 

"He didn't tell me what it is, don't worry. But I assume he pretended as if it was no big deal, that he got it." 

You nod silently, fearing that speaking would stop Chan from talking. 

"I told him that he should just walk up to your house, present himself, and then ask your mom if he can take some of your stuff for you. But he said it’s too risky, and there is a chance she might say no. So, you know what he did?" Chan chuckles softly, and you feel the breath slowly escape your chest. "He spent weeks researching all the moving companies that work in your town. And then he bought us uniforms that looked like one of theirs. With the name tags and all. We rented a truck and we drove there, so we’d pretend as if we were moving the rest of your belongings. Your mom didn't question it thankfully, and I've never seen Minho as relieved as when he climbed back into the truck."

An overwhelming need to cry threatens to consume you, and you bite your lip harshly to stop it from taking over. Not in front of Chan.

"For him to go these lengths for you, means that he loves you a lot. But also, that he feels really loved by you. So, thank you, for loving Minho. I'm very happy you guys are together now." Chan smiles softly at you, before getting up and ruffling your hair slightly. 

You quickly go back to Minho's room, before bringing his body tightly to yours. And as soon as you touch him, he mumbles your name in his sleep before throwing an arm over your waist.

"Thank you for loving me. I love you so much too," you whisper into his back, as your tears dampen his shirt. You wished that the words would reach him in his dreams, making them sweeter for him.

You didn't make a wish that day, as you blew the candles, foolishly believing that everything you've ever wanted was already around you. But you should've.

Maybe that would've stopped the anguish to come.

✹✹✹

There is a bad feeling nudged into the space between your ribs. You rub a soothing palm across your chest, in the hopes that it will calm your spiking anxiety. But you only feel your heart growing more erratic in your chest, and the sound of it only makes you panic ten times fold.

You’ve just woken up. You can hear the water running in the shower. Minho has stayed over since you both studied late into the night. You listen intently, a small breath of relief escaping your mouth when the water turns off. He’s okay.

You drag a hand tiredly across your face, before shaking your head left and right. You’ll have a good day, you’ll open the blinds and the golden sun will stream through your windows, and you’ll feel okay.

You don’t.

The dread lingers in your being throughout the day, making the simple act of walking weigh heavily on your bones. You try to distract yourself, by focusing on your classes and listening to Mina’s rants about her latest date with Jeongin. But to no prevail. So, you surrender to that feeling, today’s a bad day, but tomorrow doesn’t have to be. You’ll make sure of it.

It’s five pm when you finally walk up the stairs of your apartment. Minho went to grab you both something to eat since you’ll be studying again tonight. You wish he’d come home quickly, so you wouldn’t attach your anxiety to him. As long as you see him, then he’s okay.

You open the door, pausing by the front entrance. Something in you tells you to flee, to turn back, and never set foot inside. You don’t listen to it. If you paid attention to everything your mind tells you then you’d never truly live.

You quickly change out of your clothes, before turning on the TV. You mindlessly scroll through the show suggestions, and settle on one you haven’t seen before. You turn up the volume, making sure that the voices of the characters would drown the ones in your mind.

But then, your phone rings. It vibrates from the coffee table, the name of your aunt illuminating your screen. She calls you from time to time, but why is she doing it today? You don’t want to answer, not when there is a bulge in your throat suffocating you.

You watch numbly as the phone call seizes. You breathe out a shaky exhale. You’ll call her tomorrow.

The phone rings again.

You bite your lip harshly, hands shaking as you bring the device to your ear. You’re overreacting, you tell yourself. Nothing’s wrong. Minho will be home soon.

"What’s going on?" you ask immediately, the question slipping out of your mouth before you even thought about it.

Your aunt sighs softly, and then her voice floods your being. It sounds hoarse like she’s been crying. "Look, I…" another sigh, and you imagine her fidgeting with the hem of her dress. She always wore dresses. All seasons mingled. With pretty flowers sewed into them and sometimes even-

"Your mother died in a car accident."

Silence. You can't hear anything after those words are uttered. You know that your TV is still playing in the background and that your aunt is still talking on the phone. But it's completely silent. For five seconds. Where the world stills, as if to allow you a brief moment to process what you just heard.

Your mom. Gone.

But then, sounds crash upon you like a relentless wave. The shatter of the characters in the background, the ticking of your clock, the dull buzz of the refrigerator. And your aunt, she's still talking, telling you about the funeral and when it will be held and you can't believe what you are hearing.

It's all too overwhelming, everything surrounding you is too much to bear so you simply hang up.

You put your phone down on the table. And then you turn it off. That's one sound dealt with.

You turn the TV off and dismantle the clock from your wall so it wouldn't tick anymore. You then unplug your refrigerator. Has its buzzing always been this loud? You wonder. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Now it’s silent. It's what you crave.

Minho will come home soon. You should make him something to eat. You think to yourself. A fruit salad. It's warm outside and the fruits are refreshing.

So, you grab a knife from your drawer, and then you start peeling an orange. Then an apple. It's rugged, and half the fruit is wasted with the peel. You've never really known how to peel the skin properly. So, you put the knife down. The blade is slightly red, you notice. There is blood oozing from your finger. You cut yourself. But it doesn't hurt, so you leave it be.

Light floods your apartment, a stark contrast to the shadows within you. But you want it to be dark, and silent. You already took care of that last part. So, you pull down all the blinds and turn off the lights one by one. Now it's pitch black. Now it's quiet.

You sit on the floor, running your hand across the tiles. You count them, one, two, three. When is Minho coming home?

The floor is cold underneath you, the sensation heightened since your every other sense is muffled. You can't see, you can't hear, but you can still touch. You wished you couldn't anymore. The smallest sensation overstimulates you.

The front door unlocks, but you don't hear someone coming in. You imagine Minho standing by the door, looking around in the dark. It's okay, he'll find you. He always does.

"Honey?" he calls out and you reply from the living room, "I’m here."

You don't have to yell, it's quiet enough for your voice to be carried around your home with ease.

Minho has his flashlight on, you notice. He's looking for you and he finally spots you on the ground. You move a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you feel something warm smear across your cheek. You forgot about your cut- a reminder of the pain lurking beneath the surface, waiting patiently to consume you.

"Baby?" His tone is soft and careful, and you can see the worry brewing in his brown eyes. Why was he worried? You're okay. Nothing happened.

"I made you a fruit salad. It's in the kitchen. Can you please turn off the light?"

"Okay." His voice is calm, and you don't mind him talking. You could bear it. He was different after all, to you.

He’s pulled into the abyss with you, as he sits down next to your rigid figure. His hand rests on top of your pinkie, but you recoil from it. Not because you hate it, but his hand is warm and the floor beneath you is cold. That's a contrasting sensation. You don't want that. You just want a stillness, to feel like a straight line. Straight lines are always sure of themselves, of where they're going. You were tired of feeling like a bent one at the hands of the universe.

"What happened, baby?"

"Nothing."

"Okay. What did you do when I left, hm?"

"Nothing much. I was watching this new show, I think you’ll like it. And then my aunt called. She told me my mom died in a car accident. And then I went to the kitchen and I cut up some fruits. But I didn't know how to peel them. Can you believe it?" you giggle, your voice suddenly high-pitched. "I mean who- who doesn’t know how to peel the skin of an apple? Isn't that such a basic skill?" You're laughing now, you don't know what's funny, but you're laughing.

"And I cut my finger, but I didn't feel anything, Minho. I don't- I don't feel anything," you're still giggling, hot tears trailing down your cheeks rapidly. "My mother died and I don't feel anything. Why- why can't I feel anything? Minho, I can't- I can't-" You're hyperventilating, words straining to come out of your mouth. The breath is knocked out of you and white spots cloud your vision, like the stars that dance around Minho’s eyes. They seem kind enough so you don't fight them. You want to welcome them in the hopes that they'd take this unbearable weight off of you.

"Yn, yn, breathe for me, baby. Listen to my voice," Minho calls out and it's as if you're pulled in two opposing directions. He sounds scared, so you try to do as he says. You don’t want him to worry about you.

"You're doing so well, breathe with me, okay? Breathe in... Breathe out... Perfect, let's do it again," he instructs and you try your best to follow suit. You can feel yourself shaking, your hands moving as if they have a mind of their own. You are cold, too cold, and you can't help but wonder if it's how your mother is feeling right now too.

The thought seems to drive you over the edge and you let out a guttural sob. It racks from within you, reverberating from the depths of your splitting soul. It's a pain unlike any you've ever felt. You try to find something to compare it to, a sensation you imagine must hurt the same. But you can't find any. You can't find a metaphor to make the pain more bearable.  

So instead, you let out a heart-wrenching scream, slicing through the silence you tried desperately to maintain. Your throat aches from the strain on your vocal cords but you pay it no mind, not when there is a pain bursting open every seam of yours, undoing every thread you so carefully stitched back into your soul.   

Amidst your pitch-black apartment, you see yourself quivering in the corner, head buried in your hands. And then it’s thirteen years old you sitting there, the one who wished for something so horrible to happen on the birthday she spent alone, yet again. Your wish came true, you want to tell her. You tried to take it back, but it came true.

Minho gathers you in his arms, and you clung to him. You know he's trying to wrap you up the best he can, his arms around your back and his legs pressed on you. He's trying his best to stop you from falling apart. From breaking beyond the point of no return. And you think to yourself that you've passed it. You've passed it and he's clinging helplessly into your remains now.

✹✹✹

The funeral went by in a blur, its details elusive in your memory. At times it felt like a fever dream, a mirage conjured by your mind. And sometimes you tried to believe it, to lull yourself into a comfortable thought. Where you don't talk with your mom and she doesn't know how you are doing, but she's still alive. On the other side of the country. She's still breathing.

But this fleeting comfort is quickly shattered. The thought barely lingers, like a whisper in the wind, never staying long enough for you to finally draw in a full breath. Because the grief clings onto your skin, and you carry it with you everywhere, like a stench that won’t quite leave you. You wonder if other people can smell it on you too.

Minho hasn't left your side, once. He's always next to you. His hands are resting on your back or brushing your cheek tenderly. They are always near. And you hold them tightly. You practically memorized the lines etched on his palm. It's all you stared at during the funeral.

It felt wrong and unjust to be somewhere where everybody knew your mother, except for you. You felt as if you were left out, robbed of happy memories to mourn as well. So, you remained silent, gaze fixed intently on Minho's palm. And he didn't mind; he never does when it comes to you.

He's gentle with you, he's always been, but he's particularly gentle with you these weeks. The countless times he's cared for you blur together- his soapy hands skimming your body, massaging the shampoo into your hair when your limbs felt too heavy to move; the meals he cooked for you, making sure that each bite was cool enough before feeding it to you. How he always told you he was proud of you, at random times throughout your days. ‘What for?’ you wanted to scream, ‘I'm barely alive as it is’. "For breathing," he'd add as if he heard the thoughts swirling in your mind. "For being here. For waking up today." 

He did your laundry and he folded your clothes. Sometimes he even picked your outfits and dressed you in the morning. Leaving pecks all over your face after each worn clothing. You wanted to smile, to tell him how much you loved him. How his love felt like a sun ray peeking through the cell hole of a prisoner. But you couldn't speak. So, you hoped he knew.

He unburdened you of all these mundane tasks, so you'd focus on other ones. Like attending classes and taking notes and writing essays. Because as much as you wished for it, the world did not pause for your sorrow. In the grand tapestry of existence, where did you stand exactly? You were nothing but a mere speck of light. Your emotions, as profound as they were to you, did not hold the power to halt the world's march, to compel universal mourning.

But Minho made your world stop, just like he promised, almost a year and a half ago. When you finally found your voice, he'd listen to you talk, your head on his lap, his fingers weaving through your hair gently.

"I feel like I’m mourning two people. The person I knew and the person she could have been," you told him one night and he hummed, listening intently to you.

"The what-ifs are killing me Minho. It feels like I’m suffocating each time I think of what could have been. She left so suddenly. But she should've stayed. Maybe our relationship would've gotten better."

"Maybe… or maybe not, you can never truly know. And it’s not your job to find the answers to the questions she left behind. Maybe she didn’t even have them herself."

You appreciated how his hand never left yours, as you journeyed through seas of uncharted emotions. The anger- that came with her leaving so abruptly, leaving you behind with a heavy baggage to dissect. The sadness- from losing the woman who will always be part of you. Because we don't kill our hopeful past selves, we simply bury them and they remain just under the surface of our souls, a testament to everything we've been through.

The nostalgia- that creeps in from time to time, conjuring rose-tinted memories in your head. Maybe her voice was softer here. She did ask about your day one time. Wasn't that her sitting on the benches in your musical play? But it wasn't, it was just your brain trying to soften the harshness of losing her.

It is how our minds cope with grief, your therapist says. Minho convinced you to go see one. Because love doesn't mend everything. And he needed you to be okay again, for yourself.

He's always waiting for you after your sessions end. With coffee and a fresh pastry. You didn't eat them at first, because they tasted bland and you'd rather not waste them. But one time you bit into the strawberry muffin and it tasted sweet and citrusy. And you smiled at Minho.

He stared at you in awe that day, and then he kissed you softly, pressing his pillowy lips against yours. His eyes mirrored galaxies, tears tracing constellations down his cheeks. "You look so pretty when you smile," he whispered tenderly and you felt emotion bubbling within you, stuck in your throat. But you didn’t want to cry. So, you only smiled more brightly at his words, and you kept his compliment stored safely within you, right beside every sweet gesture of his since that day.

Minho didn’t have the answers to all your questions. He didn’t always know what to say to make it feel right. But he stayed there, he tried his best, to heal parts of you that you never knew could be bruised.

You tried one day, to go through the day normally. You woke up, opened the blinds, and then you made Minho breakfast. You ate lunch with Mina, making some jokes here and there. And when you saw Chan in the line of the coffee shop, you went up to him to talk.

And then you got home and showered, put on makeup, and waited for Minho to come to you. As soon as he opened the door, you were on him, hands busy unbuttoning his shirt, your lips pressed wildly on top of his. You missed him, missed the way he made you forget as he touched you, everywhere. As he showed you how much he loved you.

"I want you, please," you whispered, your lips grazing the shell of his ear, your hands roaming across his chest. Your tone was begging and Minho could feel the urgency in it, so he nodded, he could never say no to you. He watched as you guided him to the couch, as you straddled his lap. You kissed his neck and he tilted it back to give you more of an opening. His hands were on your thighs, cautious. Your lips on him felt heavenly but he couldn’t allow himself to get lost in the pleasure, he had to keep an eye on you.

You were urgent, with the way you sucked the tender skin above his collarbones, how you grinded your hips into his. As if you were on borrowed time and you had to make him reach his high as fast as possible.

"Tell me you’re mine," you muttered, between the kisses you imprinted onto his chest. He could see the lipstick stains you left behind as if you needed to mark him up for everyone to see.

"I'm yours," he says, his hand smoothing the top of your hair. He could sense that something was wrong now, because your eyes were glazed over, and your kisses were getting sloppy, as if your mind was somewhere else. So, he grabs your hips to pause you. "I'm yours, angel. You hear me?"

"Tell me you won’t leave, tell me you’re staying," you take his hands away from your sides, clasping them in a tight hold. You capture his lips in a desperate kiss, and Minho can feel the tears streaming down your face. "Tell me you’ll stay, please, I can’t- can’t lose you too."

"Hey, hey, love. It’s okay, calm down," Minho easily frees his hand from your grasp, bringing you closer to his chest. It’s all it takes for you to start sobbing. "Who said anything about losing me? I’m still here, I won’t ever leave you," he shushes, his voice sounding like honey to your ears. It manages to muffle the sound of your erratic heartbeat.

"I'm so so tired Minho, so tired," you sob, burying your head in his chest. You felt as if there was pain igniting the end of each of your nerves. You couldn't run away from it because the pain became you. "I try to be strong, but I can't. It hurts to wake up and- and to try to go on as if nothing happened. The thoughts in my head don't ever stop and I can't- I can't do this anymore. Please make it stop. Make it stop hurting," you press your palm onto your chest, a useless attempt to soothe the burn within.

 Why did it feel as if in your attempts to put out the fire raging within you, you only ended up fueling it even more?

"I would- I would if I could but I can't do that, I wish I could-" his tone is desperate, raw pain dripping from it.

"What if I'm not strong enough to do it myself?" you cut him off, finally asking the question that's been haunting you. "What if I can't fill this hole within me and it keeps on growing until it swallows me whole?"

Minho tightens his hold on you, rocking you gently in place, trying to lull your heart to sleep, so it'd stop hurting, even for a moment, even for a second. You know it's selfish to expect him to have all the answers, but he's all you have. He's the only voice you can bear listening to.

"I can't promise you that you'll ever fill the void left by her absence. It will keep on bleeding and throbbing, begging for a temporary patch-up. But one day it'll stop, it can't bleed forever. And around that hole flowers will bloom, like a sanctuary, watered by your overflowing love. Because it is your love that's hurting you, not your anger. Do not kill your heart to stop feeling, please. It will do that on its own, it won't hurt more than it can bear."

"It will take time. And if you run out of your time, I'll give you mine too. You aren't alone in this, we are a binary star, right?" he smiles softly and you nod slightly against his chest. "I read that to the invisible eye, they look like a singular star. I hope that to the universe we'd look like one person too, so they'd pass some of your pain to me."

✹✹✹

It’s been a few months since your mother died. You didn’t like the term passing away, because it entails that it was gentle, in passing, as if you were expecting it. But her death was sudden and it made your entire world flip upside down.

"Would you like to talk to her?" Minho suggested one night, his knuckles brushing against your cheek softly.

"Will you come with me?" you ask quietly.

"Of course. If you want me to, that is."

"I can try."

Minho drove you to the graveyard the following weekend. It felt weird to see her name etched on the grave, a reminder that this was all real and not a figment of your imagination. 

"I'm not a daughter anymore." You speak after a while, tone coated in sadness, and acceptance. "But I think I’ve never truly been one, since you were never a mother to me."

"Is it weird, that I miss you? I don't even know what I miss exactly since you were never there. But I miss you. I miss having a mother. And I'm sorry, that you were so angry at the world you couldn't find it in you to love me." You pause, blindly reaching out to hold Minho's hand. He grabs it instantly. "But I won't carry your anger anymore. I don't want to be mad at you, for leaving so suddenly. I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy. And I hope that you are too, wherever you are now."

You turn around, a small smile gracing your lips, and Minho wastes no time in wrapping you in his arms, your cheek resting against his shoulder. He's proud of you, the emotion shines clear as day in his eyes. 

"I wanna take you somewhere," he tells you and you nod, wrapping your arm securely around his waist.

The drive is short and you recognize the place fairly easily. It's the hill you told him about a long time ago, the one that held your happiest memory with your mother.

You both sit on the bench, your head finding solace on his shoulder. The view unfolding in front of you is still as breathtaking, and with each passing moment, the tightness in your chest seems to ease. Memories of your mother and this serene spot intertwine like delicate vines, bringing you a bittersweet sense of comfort. Because mourning someone isn't straightforward, not when humans are this complex, never strictly good or bad.

"Cold?" Minho asks and you shake your head no. "You're a human heater."

"Only near you," he smirks and you giggle slightly.

"I remember your hands used to be so cold."

"So, I could find an excuse to hold yours."

"Are you flirting with me?" you chuckle and he nods, a proud smile on his face. "Is it working?"

"I haven't run away yet, so I suppose it is." There is a newfound lightness in your voice, one you’ve been achingly missing for the past months.

"Come here," he taps his lap with his hands and you promptly lay your head on it.

"Look at the sky," he instructs and you do as he says, squinting your eyes. "What am I supposed to see?" you giggle, but then you feel it, the faintest snowflake falling on your nose tip.

"Go away, I don't want to watch the first snow with you," you tilt your head towards Minho, who's watching you, a soft smile on his face.

You giggle at the distant memory, when you both left Limbo, two years ago. The first time Minho rewrote your memories.

"As if I could ever love you, that'd just be signing a death warrant," you repeat your words from that night, a knowing smile on your face.

"How's that death warrant going?"

"Horrible, so so horrible," you say as you intertwine his hand with yours, squeezing it lightly.

"Mm. I suppose we can't be the exception to the superstition."

"How unfortunate," you smile as he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead, before looking back at the sky again.

He looks perfect from your view. You can clearly see the mole on his nose, the pucker of his rosy lips, and his long eyelashes framing his eyes. You are overcome by a feeling of love for the man beside you, and you stand up from your place to pull him in for a deep kiss.

"What was that for?" he smiles once you lean away, his fingers gently grazing your lips.

"Thank you, for today and for every day since I've met you."

"Of course, my love. You took a big step today, what color are you feeling right now?"

"Whatever color loving you is."

✹✹✹

Hills covered in verdant hues, rows of flowers bursting with vibrant colors, stretching before your eyes. The birds are chirping somewhere near, intermingling with the faint melody of the wind brushing against your skin.

"Here," Minho comes from behind, placing his knit jacket on top of your shoulders. Its warmth seeps through you, and you lean your back against his chest, melting into his embrace. His arms encircle your chest, resting comfortably on top of your heart as if guarding it from harm.

You feel your breathing slow down as you both look out the window. You are somewhere far from the city and its buzzing lights, a small white cottage surrounded by nature, where only you and Minho exist.

Minho nuzzles his chin on your shoulder, placing a chaste kiss under your ear. A light giggle escapes your mouth, as goosebumps rise upon your skin. Your body still reacts as sweetly to Minho, proofs of his love imprinted all over you. His touch is familiar to you but still as soothing, never losing its effect on you. You believe it never will, even when you're both withering down; his touch will still be the only thing making you bloom.

"This is nice," he whispers, sighing softly and you nod against him, raising your hand to settle on top of his. His fingers instinctively find your wedding ring, playing with it as they've done for the past two years.

"It's always nice with you," you say and he smiles softly, squeezing your hand lightly. You remember how it felt when he held it for the first time. How he hasn't let go since. It was only ever his to hold.

"We did well, don't you think? For our first time being alive."

His words make a gentle warmth stir within you. It is your first life, and you're lucky enough to spend it with him.

"We did," you turn around, to find him already looking down at your figure, a fond smile on his face. "To think we probably wouldn't be together if it wasn't for our law classes."

"No," he shakes his head, hands gently cupping your cheeks. "I would've found you. On a random evening when you'd stumble onto Limbo. In the supermarket where you'd buy your cherry shampoo. In the park you used to play in as a kid. I would've found you."

You've once read that when humans are about to pass away, a film of their happiest memories plays in front of their eyes. You know that many years down the road when you're on the brink of going away, you'll remember this moment clearly in your head. You'll remember the cicadas chirping far away, and the zesty smell of the lemon muffins you made earlier today. You'll remember the cold breeze ruffling your hair, and Minho’s warm hands on you. And you'll sigh contently, from having lived a life filled with love.

"My soul is dipped in yours. It will always find you too."

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x you #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee know fluff #lee know fanfic #stray kids angst #skz angst #lee know angst #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #lee minho angst #lee minho fluff #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz hurt/comfort #stray kids hurt/comfort

[faggy--butch]

"I'll also say that this is sometimes supported by the trans man creators, like Jammidoger. It's not just the trans women, it's not just the essayists […]" & "you should feel gender affirmed from the violence done to you because that's just how men are actually".

Thing is, until I found trans men/masc people talking about transmisandry/transandrophobia online, every time I tried interacting with my local trans community, especially with other trans men/masc people, has included them all parroting or agreeing with the above sentiments, and it's why I stopped going to my local support group or interacting with them at all. Hearing those things from some well-known and respected trans women and men in our local community and getting pushback when I wanted to talk about trans masc issues, was just so disappointing.

Which is why I'm happy Jessie made that video and came to the conclusion she did. I left a comment just about my opinion on the matter, that while yes I've felt left out on her videos and wish she included our perspective more often, I also remind myself that she and her co-writer are both trans femme. So I don't take it as intentionally or even unintentionally leaving us out, it's a side effect of people writing what they know, however, that's exactly why I watch her, to get a better perspective for myself of trans women/femme issues.

But there were also lots of trans men and masc people in the comments who said a lot more about what our issues are and the harm it does to exclude us, how we do face similar or even the same kind of violence for the same reasons as trans women and femme people, and that often, her exclusion of us in her videos (especially the Barbie one) is adding onto the already exhaustive history of transandrophobia from within the trans community. While I've not changed or added to my comment, in the face of those others, it felt lacking, but I'm also really kinda exhausted at this point, since I've been fighting against biphobia from both cishet and other queer people most of my life now, so in the face of transandrophobia, I just have no more fight in me and have resorted to elevating the voices of others who do.

Sorry for the rant, you don't have to respond, I guess I just wanted to say thank you for getting a ball rolling and here's hoping it goes farther than other attempts before this.

Hey! I think I actually saw your comment, I thought about it a lot too which is is cool that it's bringing me full circle here but I do also agree in part that because they are trans femmes their thoughts and opinions are bound to be almost exclusively from their perspective. I do also watch for that perspective in part as well, but I feel that bigger trans creators who talk about trans topics, need to remember that there isn't just that one kind.

They have the opportunity to make a difference, to give others a voice, a voice which severely lacking in these spaces. I'm not going to wholesale blame them for perpetuating transandrophobia or anything, but if you're making a video on trans experiences and then leave out a crucial part of that experience, or at worse, uncritically repeat those same ideas as a bigger creator with lots of followers, it can have a serious negative impact on members of that groups and reinforces it, transandrophobia. This reminds me of the video that Abigail Thorne did called Beauty, Food, Mind. A lot of that video is her talking about how fatphobia affects HER, a thin beautiful actress, and doesn't really even mention much of fat struggles, or get fat perspectives, and she gained a lot of criticism within the fat youtube community for it because she had an opportunity and the didn't take it, making fatphobia only about thin people instead. I will be honest, I haven't had much of an irl queer community, I have my friends and I have gone out and interacted, but I'm disabled, and poor. I don't have the chance to go to any sort of community events or anything other than maybe a drag show every now and again especially here were I live now, I moved and am back in my home state, so it does make me nervous to even seek out and find a local community. online it's easier to brush off that kind of thing, not being considered or being talked down to or ignored, and tbh gaslit, but in real life? In my own home area, in my real domain?

I'm not sure I'd know how to cope with that rn, especially because I too have had some, let's just say not great experiences with in few irl trans people semi community type groups.

Lots of people are hurting and they take it out on each other, so I feel like I have to put on a persona, or be more femme to even be taken seriously and that sucks. So yeah, it's a breath of fresh air to be able to talk about transandrophobia online with other men and I'm happy happy happy we have this, but It is disappointing and I think it shows historically why trans men have tended to keep to ourselves.

#asks #transandrophobia

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕊𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @miya-akane request: okay I'll request for the last tine-

How about Xiao, Chongyun, Freminet and Albedo (my top 4 in genshin<3) with s/o that kins Akito and/or Ena? Like they tend to comparw themself with others and felt like they're not good enough ? Also they have a bit anger issues perhaps? In conclusion they're somehow like akito. (My akito and ena kinnie ass need to)

That's all! Don't overworked yourself and always remember to stay hydrated bee~

-🌹

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Yess! Omg this one was actually great idea! I tried looking at Akito more though I guess they're so similiar it didn't made difference hah And no worries, I'm taking care of myself, but I hope you do as well miya!

Anyway, I know I took my time with this one but I hope you'll like it in the end!

Short boys supermercy forever and ever, I love writing for them sm I swear

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ Albedo almost never let's emotions carry him so you could tell he's always the one calming you down when needed

✧ but he does understand that you need to let the negative emotions out, so first thing he does is getting your emotions out on paper

✧ he'll let you all his painting equipment and won't even mind if you damage the canva in the process

✧ as for you comparing yourself to others, he starts noticing you daydreaming and will sometimes make remark for you to not worry about it

✧ he's rather reassuring type so whenever you try comparing yourself out loud, he'll stop whatever he's doing just to hold your hands gently and remind you of all your values

"Don't call yourself like that. You're the most skillful person in this field I know. And believe me when I say I don't just throw words on wind."

✧ and of course, there's also your tsundere behavior which often leaves him chuckling quietly at how you're trying to hide your affection

✧ he's not necessarily the teasing type but he can't stop but naje you clarify what you want just to see that little blush on your face

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @miya-akane - come get your chalk alchemist!

✧ as Xiao can be a bit of a tsundere sometimes as well, he doesn't really have problems with anger

✧ he'd sometimes be the type to put his hand on your shoulder and reassure you there's no need to waste your energy on something like that

✧ but sometimes... he'll let you. It all depends of the situation you found yourself in

"They said what to you...? I'll go fight them instead, you shouldn't risk any danger. Especially when I'm around."

✧ something he can't understand tho is you constantly comparing yourself to others. He saw many mortals do it and yet he still doesn't understand why you're comparing yourself to someone with much more experience

✧ he's gonna be rather blunt with it and just tell you it's not logical at all to compare yourself who just started with something to someone who's been devoted to this genre for few years already!

✧ but if your topic ever goes to not being enough of a lover, he'll try to break his tsundere barrier and tell you all the things he loves you for

✧ in the end, he ends up being a blushing mess when you have a bit of breakdown, assuring you that he means every word he says

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @miya-akane - come get your tsundere adepti~

✧ Chongyun is on rather calmer side and his bursts are usually one of annoyence rather than pure rage

✧ you were definitely the first person he met with such an anger issues so he had hard time getting used, but once he does, he doesn't mind that much

✧ he will try dragging you aside whenever you get angry at someone and offer for you to take your anger out on him or on any object he doesn't care about instead

"Take it out on me. You can imagine I'm them and just tell me anything you want. I won't get upset, I'll only be happy if it helps."

✧ if you decline tho, he'll try to look for other ways since he doesn't want you to carry these emotions inside but he also doesn't want you taking it out on others

✧ as for your comparing, he won't tolerate that! he'll stop you and tell you all things he likes about you right in the face while holding your shoulders or hands and maintaining eye contact. He want's you to be sure you know he's being honest!

✧ though he might need a popsicle or two after such an interaction...

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot - come get your popsicle boy!

✧ Freminet is rather quiet so he rarely bursts out, bur something you have in common would certainly be comparing yourselves to others...

✧ you're perfect in his eyes and he's perfect in yours, but that doesn't seem to stop you from putting yourselves down

✧ when he hears you talking badly about yourself, he'll immidietly tell you it's not true and try to tell you some compliments, but he get's shy quickly so it may end in many ways...

✧ he's also trying to help you calm down with your anger! First thing he thinks of that might help would be those anti stressing toys to squeeze!

✧ he'll buy you as many as you'd want, even if you keep breaking them. What matters to him is if they work

✧ if they don't, he'll do his best to find a good excuse and pull you away as he's doing his best to calm you down

"It's fine, it's fine... Breath with me. In... and out... That didn't help? Well uh..."

✧ and finally, there's your tsundere self! Your lovely interactions are certainly rare but they're somehow sweet, since you have to watch out to not say something discouraging to him or he might stop initiating affections...

✧ but don't worry, he'll learn your way of speaking sooner or later and it won't bother him as much anymore!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot - come get your shy diver~

#genshin #genshin impact #x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #albedo #xiao #chongyun #freminet #albedo x reader #xiao x reader #chongyun x reader #freminet x reader #genshin albedo #genshin xiao #genshin chongyun #genshin freminet #genshin albedo x reader #genshin xiao x reader #genshin chongyun x reader #genshin freminet x reader #fluff #genshin fluff #headcanons #genshin headcanons

[hanafubukki]

Malleus Draconia’s Flower Bouquet Meaning

Twst Bdays Flower Language Masterlist

I have been waiting and waiting for the release of Malleus’ 3rd Bday card with such anticipation. I literally waited every day until the time Twst JP usually updates with news for some semblance of Malleus Bday card news.

AND NOW MY BOY IS HERE AND HE LOOKS SO FINE PLEASE. His smirk with the fangs sends me. His wink is so cute! Lilia is raising these boys right! Look at HIM.

January is the moth of Diasomnia and I love it, we have Malleus, Lilia, Silver and Sebek card releases. (Diasomnia Stans I hope your gems survive). 

As I did with Lilia’s Bouquet Post , I will be writing more than I usually do. Malleus Draconia is one of my favorite twst characters and he deserves it and all the effort (in this love essay, I will). In addition, I will be adding possible theories along the way and will be mentioning book 7 too and other cards that have been released, so heed spoilers for book 7 and cards that might have not released yet.

At first glance, Malleus’ Bouquet reminded me of Trey’s Bouquet . In the sense that it reminded me of a salad, and I couldn’t help but laugh a bit because of it. When you think about some of the meanings previously discussed in Trey’s Bouquet, it applies to Malleus as well when you think about it: past, present, and future. But I’m getting ahead of myself, we will discuss that later.

It’s really nice seeing Malleus so happy especially without any worries right now (basically flirting with us lolol). After book 7 chapter 1, I am happy he is full of energy and amusement. 

I do wish that his bouquet had more colors to make it pop more, but like Lilia’s, Malleus’ bouquet does fit him rather well. It can give you a glimpse of his past and current mindset, and also a hint to the future of what may come. (please, my heart.) 

Some observations from just from a glance, Malleus’ bouquet may not pop as much color wise, but you know what it does really well? It blends into the environment rather seamlessly.  Unlike Trey, who doesn't like to stand out and would rather blend in, which shows in his flowers. For malleus, it is not by choice. He blends in seamlessly because he is forgotten by those around him. When he is not forgotten, people are scared of him and tend to run away. The only ones to truly notice him missing are Lilia, Sebek, Silver, and MC.

We know that Malleus hates being forgotten and left out and this bouquet shows that while he blends in to the environment, it is not by choice and some of the flower meanings show his feelings towards being forgotten and ostracized. (I’ll never forget you Malleus 💕💕). 

Greem flowers tend to be rare and on further research, they also tend to be mutations in some variations of flowers. This fits Malleus because we can all say that he is a highly respected figure, not only is he a future king in the Valley of Thorns, but he is one of the top ten strongest mages in the world. If we went further, Malleus is a type of dragon fae, and royalty, maybe he might or might not be the last of his kind? Only time will tell, as we know the only relative he has right now is his grandmother. I

In terms of magic power, malleus is extremely strong and we can see how the story swings and the narrative changes when he deigns to step in and help. Book 5, Malleus fixed the stage hence allowing for VDC to continue, and in book 6, he helped Vil by making him young again. We have seen in masquerade the magic potential he has and how that affects the environment as well, and in book 7 a well. Malleus is unique and rare, and that could also show why he is so revered heavily by everyone else when all he wants is to be invited and share experiences with others.

I love how Malleus is also winking in this card, as he is in other cards. You certainly get the Diasomnia closeness as because sebek was also winking in his cards. We also have the smile that Lilia and Silver all share too, which I think is cute! I might be wrong but I think all the third years so far have been winking?

Now, let’s talk about some rather interesting...moves that twst played with the release of this Malleus card. First of all, with the release of the Malleus Bday card, We also received the Silver Dorm SSR card. This is interesting because this is the first time they released a Dorm SSR card without a story update. What’s more, its rather interesting they chose to release it with the Malleus card which makes me wonder how purposely did they do this? Was this as a way to show the connection Silver and Malleus has? 

As in a sense, Malleus can be paralleled to Maleficent and Silver could be Aurora (and the Sword, Shield, and Prince Philip technically) from what we see on the surface level. It's as if they are telling us these two are more connected than we realize and maybe they are a mirror too (or like that one promo where you see Maleficent on one side and the princess on another as two opposite spectrums).

Considering the opposite styles that Malleus and Silver were raise (by Lilia no less), it hurts to see how much this is stressed. You can tell familial love will play a big role in book7 from this alone. It also makes it seem like they are pushing Malleus to play this evil role that he clearly doesn't want to be in when all he wants is to belong and be invited.

Another interesting point I want to bring up is that, Silver is the only one without the title that basically says “___ Protector of the Valley of Thorns” Instead, He is the sleeping guardian. So, we have this disconnect between the four and shows how much of the role Silver might play when it comes to the other three diasomnia residents.  This Post shows the English titles  and this post is a jp comment about it as well I believe .

It alludes more and more to the fact that Silver has a connection to ‘dreams’ and that could also be a hint on how Malleus and everyone could be saved given that Malleus is the King of the Abyss as well. Maybe, Silver’s UM is connected to dreams as everyone speculate, but I digress. We know at the end of the day, these two have a connection and only time will tell what kind of connection and what it will put everyone through (and how it will eventually wreck us too, get your tissue boxes ready everyone. Book 7 chapter 1 already came for us without reprieve.)

Another fact that I find funny is that Malleus’ Duo is Ace. So, I can’t wait to see how Ace and Malleus interact given that Ace....doesn’t care for manners when it comes to people in power and will basically say what's on his mind. Which, we can see from Endless Halloween. I also personally find it funny because many people tend to ship MC with Ace and Malleus and these two always end up in a triangle and I can’t wait to see what happens after the interview lol Ace also doesn’t have his UM so maybe its a hint of Ace’s role in Book 7 (he could be hiding it as well, since we know how much of a trickster he is).

Malleus’ card spells are similar to those of Idia’s Bday ones apparently. Which is funny and interesting given that Idia will play a big role in book 7, especially in terms of grief and moving on and recovering from the loss of a loved one.

I can’t wait to see Malleus’ groovy. I hope its either in dawn or dusk because that would not only be beautiful but give a wonderful symbolism as well. 

Malleus holding the bouquet so effortlessly also shows his strength, I mean look at him, no struggle at all.

You know what makes me so soft about Malleus’ bouquet? It’s that he has signs of those he loves in his bouquet. He has flowers that symbolizes Lilia, Sebek, Silver, and even MC/Yuu.

Now, lets talk about Flowers 🌺💚🌺💚

[As usual, my disclaimer from before stands, flowers have many different meanings depending on region and color, so the meanings I have might differ from the meanings you know.]

In addition, I know there were some feelings of sadness going around with Malleus’ bouquet because most of the associated flower language were negative, but remember every flower has more than one meaning and together, the flower language can change as a whole depending on the bouquet. It also depends on the meaning we choose to empathize over the others. 

His flowers are kind of hard to tell, so I put whichever ones I thought they might be. Get your hearts ready and anything you have that has Malleus’ face because you are going to want to hug him. (total opposite from how I wanted to yeet Lilia during his post lol) 

Flower Colors (general meaning): 

Green Flowers: Health, resilience, good fortune, and youth. We know Malleus is young in terms of Fae age and we know he also has to learn and mature more when in comes to certain instances over the others. Some examples we have seen was when things didn’t go his way and you can see the weather being affected, but also we have to consider that he never really got to act his age has he? Health and good fortune for his future.

White Flowers:  True love, purity, innocence, sympathy.  We know True Love Kiss plays a role in Sleeping Beauty and I can’t wait to see how it plays a role for book 7. In a way, Malleus is innocent in his experience with anything related to modern times, and his situation does make you feel for him. (Malleus, we love you 💕).

Red Flowers: Love, passion, pride, vigor, and strength. (rather fitting, wouldn’t you say?) 

Bouquet:

Green Roses: Renewal, rejuvenation of spirit and energy, growth, abundance, balance, stability, peace, good news and new beginnings. Possibly the future healing that Malleus will go through? (you know, after his mental breakdown...I know know, I’ll be quiet now) [To my knowledge, green roses do not mean jealously. It’s the yellow roses.] I was hoping they would give him red roses to symbolize his rose garden back home too. 

Carnation: Fascination, distinction, and love. In Greek, it is known as God’s Flower.  As some tend to worship Malleus like a God, it's rather fitting for him to have this flower. (Sebek and some diasomnia students come to mind).

Curcuma/Hidden Lilies: Love, Rebirth, Devotion, Purity, Fertility, clear and sincere intentions. When I first saw these, my mind literally went Lilies = Lilia and with several of the meanings it makes you wonder doesn’t it? Especially as Rebirth seems to be a themes in Malleus and Lilia’s bouquet. (Sleeping curse maybe?) These also look like the flowers you see in the Live Action Sleeping Beauty 2 Movie, during the wedding. You know when Maleficent walks Aurora down the Aisle. So it could also be stressing the relationship Malleus has with Silver. Technically, all three of them. Can be used to treated stomach problems and this makes me laugh because Lilia had stomach problems in that one Firelit Sky event, hence another factor in representing Lilia.

Green Lisanthus: Appreciation, charm, charisma, and confidence. (Malleus in a flower basically 💕)

Cala Lily (Burgundy): Life’s right of passage, purity, holiness, faithfulness, courage and determination. (Silver and Sebek determination to protecting their Lord.) 

Dracaena Fragans: meaning Dragon, financial and career success (he will make wonderful king), peace and good fortune.

Amaryllis: to sparkle, pride, strength, determination. These flowers blooms every year despite looking frail and it doesn’t take much to have them grow year after year. An interesting story is about a maiden who fell in love with a cold hearted man. She pierced her heart with a gold arrow and visited his cottage. After 30 days, her droplets of blood became beautiful flowers and the man fell in love with her and she was healed. Another type of Amaryllis is the cluster ones, we know it as the spider lilies. Common ones are the red spider lilies which is basically a red flag because it usually means death and last goodbye. This could symbolize the long life Malleus has ahead of him as well. White Amaryllis means beauty, devotion, and love. In addition, White Amaryllis symbolizes children and the innocence that comes from them. It reminds me of the story that Malleus told MC about how he just wanted to belong and had a tantrum that led to the castle becoming frozen in ice. Lilia was the only one who stepped forward and helped him and it implies that's how Malleus ended up loving ice cream. (My heeearrrttt) Also, the other story of how Lilia had his hair burned because baby malleus blew fire too lolol.

Houseleeks/Succulent: Always Living, enduring and timeless love, forever, does not change, Will live in harsh environments (My heart damnit, my heart).

Elderberry/Elder: inner strength, courage, calm fears, resilience, joy, protection from evil, prolong life, and peaceful sleep. “Eld” can also mean fire.

Olives: friendship and reconciliation, cleansing and healing, light, victory and richness, and above all, a sign of peace. (I’m not crying, you are!).

Hypericum Berries: symbol of peace, protection, rebirth 

Acai Palm: Nutritious, growth in wilderness.

Thistle: Pain, aggressiveness, pride, and Protection.

Cordylines: Added to flowers to add emphasize to other flowers meanings, good luck, and fortune. Often it is confused with Dracaena. 

Random Fact: Anniversaries could also be considered, since its the 3rd bdays for all the boys, their flower will be Sunflower: strength  be well, happiness, male healing, confidence, self-esteem, assertiveness. Sounds just like them, doesn’t it?

Credit: Thank you to Lala (@/mobagehellocal) for her help as always. Please go talk flowers with her too. We love talking about them. 🌺🌻

#malleus draconia #twst malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #twisted wonderland #twst malleus #disney tw #disney twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia Birthday Card #Malleus Draconia Brithday Broomquet #twst #twst birthdays #twisted wonderland Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia broomquet #twisted wonderland birthdays #flower language #Flower Meanings #twst flowers #diasomnia #twst theory #twst theories

[nerdygaymormon]

"All right, then, I'll go to hell”

Huckleberry Finn's friend Jim, a runaway slave, has been locked up in a shed and has been sold. Huck is thinking about what to do and remembers what he learned in Sunday School of what happens to folks who assist runaway slaves.

“People that acts as I’d been acting about [Jim] goes to everlasting fire.” 

(After all, the Bible is clear: “Slaves obey your earthly masters with respect and fear”- Ephesians 6:5.) 

Huck decides to write a letter to the lady from whom Jim ran away to let her know where Jim can be found. Huck believes he'd been close to going to Hell for aiding Jim as he fled his enslavement, but now Huckleberry feels washed clean from his sins. Then Huck starts thinking of all the good times he had with Jim, and how he is now the only friend Jim has, and yet he is going to betray Jim. He looks at the letter he had written.

“I took it up, and held it in my hand. I was a trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself: "All right, then, I'll go to hell"- and tore it up.”

This is the moral climax of the book Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Huck makes a moral choice based on his own valuation of Jim's friendship and human worth, a decision in direct opposition to the things he has been taught.

I feel the LDS Church puts queer people in this same quandary. We aren't equal to the other humans around us. We must live in a way that doesn't fit our orientation or gender identity and then we can go to heaven. But should we dare fall in love with someone and spend our life with them, or choose to love ourselves and express how we experience our gender identity, then no Celestial Kingdom for you. You're forever cast off to one of the lower kingdoms.

How many queer Latter-day Saints receive comforting messages from God that it's fine to move forward, that they are created this way? How many fall in love and then have to make this terrible choice of heaven or the person they love? How many can trade in their dysphoria if they will accept themselves and live authentic to their identity? How is it the thing that feels the most right and brings the most joy is also the thing which our religion strictly forbids?

We're reminded that there's eternal joy if we can struggle to deny ourselves in this life. But then we read in the Book of Mormon that "men are that they might have joy," and yet I'm to go without? I need to be miserable now in the hopes of joy once I'm dead?

"All right, then, I'll go to hell"

#huckleberry finn #queerstake

[tinyinvadr]

I’m back with another chapter! Thank you all so much for supporting this fic! It’s cool to know that people like the same stuff as I do, and it motivates me to write more!

Ch. 1/Ch. 2

Hide & Shrink

Chapter 3

I woke up on a plush surface, practically sinking into it. There was a part of me that wanted to still believe my entire experience with the Digital Circus was a dream, but I knew that couldn’t be true.

This wasn’t my bed. Not my real bed, at least. In fact, it didn’t feel like a bed at all, more like a giant pillow.

Right. The last thing that happened before I passed out was when I realized that Caine couldn’t change me back to my normal size. Which meant wherever I was, I was likely still tiny.

I finally opened my eyes, and the bright colors surrounding me were almost blinding. Massive blankets and pillows of every shade stretched as far as I could see.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the pillows were kind of nice. It reminded me of pillow forts…

Of course. This was Kinger’s pillow fort. That made sense, since he was holding me before I passed out. He probably brought me there so I could rest.

“Oh, Pomni, you’re awake! You really had us scared back there.”

I don’t know how I didn’t notice that Kinger was also in the fort with me right away. Then again, he kind of blended in. His robes almost looked like one of the blankets.

I tried to scoot myself back, but the pillow was too soft and I ended up just sinking into it further.

“Oh, did you need help getting up? I’ve got you!”

Kinger started to reach for me, and I frantically tried to move away faster.

“Nononono! It’s okay! I’m okay!”

He could tell I was panicking and stopped, glancing away in shame.

“Aw, I’m sorry. I must be freaking you out right now. I know I’d be terrified if I was in your place. But there’s nothing to worry about! I won’t grab you again, and it’s perfectly safe in my impenetrable fortress, so we can just wait here until Caine gets this whole thing sorted out.”

Admittedly, I needed the levity, so I gave Kinger a nod of approval and willingly let myself sink into the pillow. I could see why he liked to hide in his fort. It was like a little break room from the overwhelming insanity of the circus.

But it wasn’t as impenetrable as he thought it was.

A pillow on the bottom of the fort suddenly slid out of place, and before either of us could react, a huge assortment of pillows and blankets came crashing down on us.

It was a chain reaction of disaster as Kinger fell onto the pillow I was laying on, and the sudden weight shift sent me flying into the air, only to fall on my face a couple inches away. As I struggled to push myself up, I could hear the voices of the others.

“Jax! What did you do that for?!”

“What? I wanted a pillow.”

“But… Pomni could’ve gotten hurt…”

“These are cartoon physics we’re workin’ with here. She’s fine, look.”

For the third time, I was grabbed without warning and lifted into the air, this time by Jax. The thought of what he might do made me sick. The others at least seemed like they were worried about me, but it was pretty clear that he didn’t care.

In front of me stood Ragatha, Gangle, and Zooble, all looking concerned. Well, at least Ragatha and Gangle. Zooble’s expressions are kind of hard to read.

“She doesn’t look fine…”

“Yeah. I’m sure she LOVES being grabbed like that, Jax. Totally not traumatizing at all.”

Jax simply laughed off their concerns, emoting by moving his hands and arms around a lot in a way that was definitely intentional.

“Hey, come on, you guys, Pomni can speak for herself. If she didn’t like it she’d say something. Isn’t that right, Pom?”

By the time he stopped talking and moving me around, I couldn’t hold back and I threw up. Again.

Jax quickly dropped me and backed up in disgust.

“Ew. Somebody call Bubble.”

Right as he said that, Bubble appeared in front of me, way too close for comfort.

“Cleanup crew at your service!”

I backed up as he started licking up the vomit just as he did the day before. He’s really a freaky little thing. Though he didn’t look so little from my perspective.

Caine appeared shortly afterward, shaking his head(?) at Bubble, but then shifted his attention to me.

“Goodness gracious! You sure are prone to getting sick, aren’t you? Do you need anything? Want me to carry you to your room?”

The last thing I wanted was to be picked up again, so I queasily backed up in protest.

“No, no, it’s fine, I can get there by myself.”

Just as I regained my balance enough to start walking away, Jax walked in front of me, nearly stepping on me.

“You sure about that, shorty?”

Ragatha glared at him again as she made her way over to Caine.

“Anyway, Caine, have you made any progress on finding a way to fix Pomni?”

“Nope! Still working on it! But don’t worry, I’m sure a solution will come to me soon! After all, this is the digital world, and anything is possible!”

Zooble scoffed. “Yeah. Anything except leaving.”

“That’s the spirit, Zooble! Now then, Pomni, I leave the choice up to you if you want any of us to escort you to your room, or anywhere else you might like to go!”

I really would have preferred to be alone, but that wasn’t an option on the off chance that Jax decided to try anything else. I needed someone I could trust. I needed the one person I’d been avoiding.

Keeping my eyes glued to the ground, I approached Ragatha.

“Um… Ragatha? Can I go with you?”

She didn’t say a word, and kneeled down in front of me, her hands resting on the floor. I looked up to meet her eyes, and she gave a reassuring smile as if to say that this would all be on my own terms, and she wasn’t going to grab me.

I was still hesitant to even get near her, but she had a calm patience that the others didn’t. It was like she was willing to wait there for as long as it took until I was ready. In each passing moment I could feel my nerves ease just a little bit more, and finally, I took the first step onto her hand.

Due to her being a rag doll, Ragatha’s hands didn’t feel much different from the pillow I was sitting on earlier. I sat myself down, continuing to look up at her as she watched and waited.

“You okay?” She asked, her voice soft and warm. I simply nodded, and she continued to smile and wait. “Just let me know when you’re ready for me to stand up.”

I gave her another nod of approval, and she slowly stood up, holding me close to her for support, but not too tight to where I felt trapped. As she lifted me up, I could see the others looking on in surprise at how calm I seemed.

“Alright guys, I’ll be back in a bit.” Ragatha said as she turned to walk down the hallways where everyone’s rooms were.

As soon as we were far enough away from the group, I finally worked up the courage to speak again.

“I… thank you…”

She let out a content sigh as she continued walking.

“Hey, I’ve got your back.”

#giant/tiny #g/t #giant tiny #g/t writing #tadc g/t

[xoxoemynn]

give the people what they want (tell us the daphne lore)

HOOOOO BOY OKAY HERE WE GO.

For context, Daphne has her Favorite Bed in my living room, and every day she demands requests we sit together there to bond. Eventually I got myself a little floor chair to go next to her bed because my back simply cannot be on hardwood floors for hours like Daphne prefers, and then I also keep my OFMD blankie there because it gets chilly on the floor and my toes get cold.

ANYWAY, come Saturday, I'm giving Daphne her CBD oil (because that is just one of her many medications), and I accidentally get the TEENIEST TINIEST drop on her bed. But because I don't want it to stain, I immediately wipe it down with soap and water. It leaves small wet patch. Basically make a circle out of your thumb and forefinger. That's more or less the size.

About thirty minutes after that, Daphne decides to return to her bed. And she....puts her paw directly in the wet spot.

The look of BETRAYAL on her face. Honestly, it's a miracle I'm still alive. If she had the power, I'd be incinerated, reincarnated, and dropped off the nearest cliff. That whole Ed killing Hornigold montage? That's what Daphne wanted to do to me.

Anyway, all Saturday, she avoided her bed. I didn't think TOO much of it, because she has countless other beds and pillows and cushions, so it's whatever.

Then comes Sunday. She's doing her little "time to sit on the floor" tippy tappy dance, so I go sit on my floor chair, but she doesn't seem content. And I'll be honest, I was a bit annoyed. I just wanted to write. I was finally in the zone, and Daphne was giving me no peace.

And then she gave me the softest little tap on my knee and the big sad eyes, and I put my laptop aside and she immediately climbed into my lap and curled into a little ball. And I was just about weeping, and Cat's in the Cradle was playing in my head, because Daphne is not usually a daytime cuddler, and she just wanted some love!!! And I was treating my laptop like it was more important!! I was a monster.

Then she hopped off my lap and gave me the "come follow me" eyes, so I did...and she immediately stole my seat and refused to budge. I tried. She said no. It was hers. She had conquered it fair and square. I tried reminding her there were SO MANY Daphne-sized seats for her and fewer me-sized seats and she did not care. So that was Sunday.

COME TODAY. I'm working on the couch, she lets me know she thinks I should be working from the floor like a true professional, I take my floor chair. And she goes to her bed, raises one tiny paw above it....and freezes. Backs away.

I'm reminded of the look of betrayal in her eyes from Saturday.

Yes, that's right. Daphne refused to go in her bed for 48+ hours because her tiny delicate paw touched WET on Saturday and it was SUCH a deeply traumatic experience she couldn't POSSIBLY put herself through that again. I tried ALL. DAY. to get her to give her FAVORITE BED another shot. She refused ALL. DAY. I physically put her in it, she would jump out. I kept pointing to the previously wet spot that was now dry and she looked at me like I was an idiot. I reminded her technically it was cleaner than before and she didn't care. She would sit on the floor chair or on my blanket, if she was feeling generous. No bed for her. Its prior state of Wet made it unacceptable.

Fortunately we have a happy ending. Daphne had some wild zoomies tonight, which did have her leaping over and into her bed, and eventually she tired herself out enough that she forgot her bed had previously been desecrated so now she's snoozing away in it. But I learned my lesson. I can never let the bed get wet again.

Picture below the cut of her on Sunday, stealing my seat, with the bed and blanket that were PERFECTLY VIABLE OPTIONS RIGHT. THERE. so I could sit on the hardwood floor and listen to her snore instead. (If I moved to go back to the couch, she would wake up and look at me all irritated and huff and puff until I return.)

THAT'S DAPHNE.

#ask #jaskierx #Daphne #honestly in my next life I'm coming back as Daphne #don't ask me how that works but just trust it does

[olderthannetfic]

The ace asks about how asexuality and being aromantic is increasingly seen to mean "has sex and romance like a normal person" reminds me of the time I accidentally deeply angered an author. She had the tag 'asexual character' in her fic's tags, but since it's a 300k word long fic involving a lot of characters, it wasn't clear who that referred to right away. I left long comments on each chapter, talking about what I liked, sections that hit really hard, lines that I loved, etc., as I always do. (I like to ramble IRL and I can't turn it off even online.) At the halfway point of the fanfic, during a long comment about the OCs that helped flesh out the oft-mentioned but barely explored organizations and companies in the world of canon, I said that I hoped This One Specific OC or That Other Specific OC would turn out to be the asexual character, as I saw in them echoes of myself and a friend of mine (we're both ace).

She had never responded to a comment of mine before, but she did for that one... to yell at me about how the main character OC was aroace, actually. This was apparently supposed to be obvious since the word ace was used in the tie-in prequel fic, which I had held off on reading because the author's note mentioned it would have spoilers if you hadn't read the whole main fic. The character in question has a relationship not remotely different from any of the cishetallo or cisqueerallo relationships presented in the text. She develops a snarky sarcastic friendship with someone she finds visually beautiful and impossible to look away from, gets to know him a little, watches movies with him, they get into urban fantasy danger which they help each other through, they fuck and do so extremely regularly, and she has past exes who she also did all of this with.

And I was, apparently, a bigot with internalized aphobia and negative attitudes towards women who have sex because I didn't look at her and go, "Ah, yes, an aroace!" She informed me I was forcing unrealistic stereotypes no one adhered to onto ace people by thinking aces had to be a certain way and by refusing to see that

Her angry reply was so long it took three AO3 comments to send to me, and it didn't really make me convinced I'd misread the situation. It just made me convinced this wasn't an author I wanted to read more fic from, because 1. this is a lot of anger, holy crap and 2., I really think this is an excusable mistake on my part. I saw no signs this character was in any way different from any other couple in the fic beyond that she and her love interest didn't get to know each other's backstories as much and instead bonded more through experiences they shared, which in my opinion is not something that can be linked to any sexuality or lack thereof.

I feel like there's a moral in here. Like, authors, as a fellow author, I get that it sucks when someone else doesn't see the characters like you do, or misses something you thought was clear, etc. I get that it's frustrating. But don't rip into someone who's been gushing about every chapter of your fic individually just because they didn't catch one thing. I failed to realize one character's sexuality. That's not the same as hating you, the character or the writing.

Mostly I remember that incident as the day I stopped asking questions in my long comments. A sea of gushing does not make up for a mistake and the best way not to make those is to not ask if a tag relates to a character or line.

--

Oof. I mean, sure, there's a diversity of experience. Everything is a spectrum. Yada yadda. But if two labels become entirely indistinguishable, what's the point of even having them, much less getting mad when people can't spot the difference?

[cosmiclion]

If you thought I couldn't outdo myself more with the fluff for this AU then you haven't seen my true power yet 😈

I don't know if I got OCiel's bangs right but, realistically speaking, human hair never stays in the same place, that's how physics works so whatever lmao.

Anyway, trying to write a Black Butler AU with some fluff where Sebastian and Ciel have a parent-child like relationship WHILE keeping them in-character (Sebas more than Ciel tbh) and still basing it on canon material but making changes and making said changes make sense requires a bit of work ngl.

I mean, I know it's just a project I'm doing for fun and technically there's nothing stopping me from going nuts and making them completely OOC and disregarding canon at all, but I feel then it'd become a separate story with new, original characters who simply happen to be inspired by Kuro (which is also okay, and who knows, maybe in the future I'll repurpose the whole thing to create my own Kuro-inspired original story, even if I don't think I'll ever fully lose interest in Kuro, this cursed series has me in a chokehold lmao). Full ramble under the cut.

Sebastian is the hardest one to write, though I think I'm finally more or less figuring it out. I didn’t want to write him as suddenly learning to love the way humans do thanks to the power of cute children or something, as it just didn't feel natural (or I couldn't personally make it feel natural, I know other people have managed to write that concept very well). What I have so far is that when he does act nurturing he’s simply imitating the behavior of human parents he has observed, but he doesn’t love the kid the same way humans do because he literally doesn’t have that ability. BUT that doesn’t mean he feels nothing at all and that it doesn’t mean anything to Ciel, after all this weird creature is the one who saved his life and raised him with care and patience. The closest comparison I can think of is the relationship between people and “unusual” pets like reptiles, amphibians, insects, etc. We know they can’t love us the way other people (or even other mammals) would but that doesn’t make our bond any less significant! Some bits of canon material also come in handy here, for example I based the fact that familiar Sebas finds Ciel adorable as a kitten on the canon fact that he likes squishing his cheeks because they remind him of a cat's paws 😂 Just know he's an awkward demon who doesn't know how to human but is doing his best 🥺

I think in Ciel’s case I have more freedom since he is, after all, human, and a human’s personality is strongly shaped by their environment and life experiences. Like, what exactly counts as making a character OOC? Sure, I can agree that in a fanwork set in the exact same universe with the exact same events as in canon there’s some things a character would never say or do, but I think AUs were created as a way to explore what-if scenarios. What if this character had been raised by different people? What if they had grown up in a different place? What if this or that event hadn’t happened or had gone differently? Tbh I think it’s just fun to explore endless possibilities, it’s maybe a form of character analysis in some way. And if we think about it, canonverse Ciel was originally sweet, shy and affectionate, and if he’s the complete opposite now it’s only because he went through an utterly horrific and traumatic event that forced him to grow up before his time and toughen himself up because it left him with little to no support system, on top of having to be hyper vigilant because the only thing that "saved" him from that is a literal demon who wants his soul and is haunting him.

So I just wanted to create this alternative timeline where maybe things aren’t as terrible, or they start out as terrible but then some good things come from the most unexpected sources. Ciel is five years younger and thus has more time to process everything and try to heal as he grows up. Sebas isn’t entirely a bastard and willingly does nice things for the child, even if he still doesn’t understand human needs, and while he stills views him as a potential meal (at least at the beginning) he's actually respectful. There’s another demon who understands humans all too well and is happy to lend a hand. His friends and the relatives he has left are more involved in his life. So Ciel more or less has a support system now, albeit a weird dysfunctional one, and doesn’t entirely lose his sweetness (also like... he's 5/6 at the beginning of the story, we really can't expect a preschooler to be an edgy emo who craves violence and revenge ☠️). I imagine he grows up to be just as calculating and cunning as canonverse Ciel, maybe even just as ruthless in his job because it’s a requirement, and is still pretty much a little shit, but this Ciel is not as cold and undemonstrative. He’s still very much an introvert who prefers to be left alone, but he smiles (as in genuinely smile) more often and it’s a little easier for him to express emotions and feelings (more through actions than words, but still meaningful). Hell he may allow himself to be playful and silly sometimes if he’s in the moment.

And if it wasn’t clear from the picture, little Ciel ADORES Sebastian. Sure he's (understandably) a bit skittish around him at first, but once they bond he comes to fully view him as a parental figure. Yes, he's hurt, sad and traumatized, but he's still a resilient little kid, and with enough kindness Sebas can coax his old self to come out of his shell, and until the kid becomes more independent they're like a mama duck and her lil duckling. Their constant banter and bickering when he's older is more a teens being teens thing than anything.

#eli’s art #artists on tumblr #art #digital art #drawing #sketch #eli rambles #canon divergence #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji au #kuro familiar au #black butler #black butler au #sebastian michaelis #dadbastian #mombastian #ciel phantomhive #our ciel #ociel #o!ciel #i am going to create an au that is so self indulgent #procreate app #not yoi

[r-2-peepoo]

A pretty good list of the best Codywan fics you will ever read:

I recently noticed I had a very sweet ask about Codywan fics recs but I didn’t realise saving drafts of ask replies wasn’t an option so I accidentally deleted it. If you are the lovely anon who sent that message on (I believe) the 29th of October, I’m sorry for not seeing it sooner, and here is a list for you!! A definitely-not-comprehensive guide to Codywan fics because I'm actually only a few months into shipping them myself. These are just some of my favourites.

I mainly read modern AUs but I’ll try and come up with a good variety so hopefully, there’s something for everyone. Also I’ll @ the writers who have accs on here because they deserve all the praise and credit in the world (but do let me know if you’d prefer to be untagged!!)

Modern AUs

An incredibly sweet oneshot featuring Teacher!Cody hosting a parent-teacher conference and a very overwhelmed Obi Wan trying his best to raise Anakin. The characterisation of Obi Wan in particular just makes my brain go brrrrrrrrrrrr because it reminds me of how he's written in the canon novels, as in you get to see a side of him that isn’t so polished and held together. The most unconventional yet adorable meet-cute ever. I have read it many many times.

THIS FIC. Oh my gosh. I've read it three times so far and I just adore it. It's an AU based on the movie Happiest Season (although I personally think this fic is far better than the movie). I'm always here for Christmas fics and they're always quite hard to find in my experience and yet here is this absolute gem, heavy with plot and drama and the most wonderful use of canon characters and dynamics.

I've spoken about this fic by @kckenobi before and I will do it over and over until everyone on earth has had the privilege of reading it. This is, without a doubt, the best fanfiction I've ever read. I can say that definitively. My recommendation for this would be to download the playlist that goes along with it. There's a link in the notes of the final chapter. Ngl I have Apple Music so I had to individually search for each song and add it to a playlist but it is beyond worth it. Aside from the writing being phenomenal, listening to the songs while reading is honestly life-changing. I have such a soft spot for classical and orchestral music and when I tell you you won't be able to look at any other fic without thinking about what a magical experience this one was, I'm not lying. The Codywan is quite minor compared to the rest of the plot but it is incredibly sweet and feels very natural. This is great if you like Obi Wan-centric fics.

This one is very special to me because it was one of the first fics I ever read in the fandom. This author (I don’t think I can tag them but their user on here is the same as their ao3) in general has been integral to my Codywan journey and there's so many of their works I've had the pleasure of following the publication of in such a short amount of time. Another unconventional meet-cute, which just seems to be a trope that suits this ship down to the ground.

But my personal favourite fic of theirs is Natural Wonders, a Photographer!Cody and Park Ranger!Obi Wan au, because I followed the publication of it from start to end and it was an absolute blast. This author's work ethic is unparalleled. Just take a look at the range of fics they've written. It's seriously impressive. Truly one of the best writers to begin with if you're new to the ship because they've done so much. You’ll be able to find basically any genre you like the most and every single one is insanely well written.

This fic is so sweet that reading it will rot the teeth right out of your head. This is by the wonderful @legobenkenobi who is not only the loveliest person ever, he is also a remarkable writer. Cody and Obi Wan work in a library together, Obi Wan comes in with a cat, which belongs to neither of them, out of absolutely nowhere one day (which is the most in-character thing I’ve ever heard) and the fluff ensues from there. While you’re there, read everything else he’s written because every single fic should be put in a museum.

Canon Compliant/Divergent

Cody and Obi Wan get married by accident. It sounds lighthearted and funny, which it is a little, but it also feels like hugging a thousand knives at once. This author manages to capture the painful longing between the two men that would be present in the canon-verse. It's under 1k words and yet they manages to inflict so much pain so quickly. There's something so delicate about the way they write and it's such a poignant, heartwrenching take on what is usually used as a solely comedic trope. I don’t read angst that often but every word of this was beautiful.

This fic is just... I can't even describe it. It's so in-depth. I feel like you really get to experience the Star Wars universe here. There's so many characters that are usually underutilized in fics, but not here. It features blind Obi Wan and how this affects his experience as a Jedi and as a General. It’s tactful and magnificently written. You really get to go on an adventure with the characters and it's so rich in plot and follows the actual plot of parts of Clone Wars but with such a unique perspective added. The story just slots so nicely into canon. I don't want to spoil too much but it's such a fascinating take on Obi Wan's character. Also!!! It explores so many relationships that canon itself neglects to. My personal favorite other than Codywan is Obi Wan's interactions with Ahsoka. This is still an ongoing fic so get in while you still can. You won't regret it, I promise.

This is also one of quite a few times where I've been a fan of someone's work before joining Tumblr, only to realise after following them that I've been reading their work for ages. @foreverchangingfandomsao3 you are immensely talented. Thank you for writing such an immersive story. I am in love with your take on Obi Wan.

This is another ongoing fic by the lovely @farores-oak-tree. It's a post-order 66 fic and it's so so so good so far. Other than Codywan's inevitable reunion, what I love the most about this is how it uses its other characters. Sabé features heavily and I always wanted to see her again so this was a delightful discovery. Again' I don't to spoil too much because its still being posted but there is such an interesting use of canon events. It's been so much fun so far so please give it a read if you like post-order 66 Codywan. This could be the plot of Kenobi S2 and I would completely believe you. It's so good.

This is another fic I read and absolutely loved and then started following the person who wrote it on here without realising. @frostbitebakery is behind this particular work of art. This is a Sith!Obi Wan AU and honestly it’s the only one you’ll need. I really love the way it’s structured and I don’t know if this makes sense, but this author has something about their writing style that is so careful and distinctive and you can see that same style coming through in their art style too (seriously, have a look at their art, it’s absolutely insane). It’s so detailed and you can feel how much time was spent on it. Such a delight to read.

Another recommendation of a work I’d been subscribed to who I think is actually written by a mutual of mine. I’m not certain about that but regardless, I can’t begin to express how much I love it so far. It’s another ongoing fic. I have a thing for fics that detail how Cody and Obi Wan first meet because canon does nothing to show this. If it turns out this is actually how they met and how things unfolded for them, I would completely buy it. It just suits them so much. It feels so true to their characters. It’s so natural and it flows so well. I could read a thousand chapters of this.

I could recommend so many others but these are the ones I always think of when people ask for recommendations. I think I put the usernames of everyone who has an account on here but I’ll keep looking in case I missed anyone. I’ve been in a lot of fandoms but I genuinely mean it when I say Codywan authors (and artists) are the most accomplished I’ve ever seen.

#codywan #codywan fanfic #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #clone wars #star wars prequels

[9w1ft]

so many signs

so i had this thing in the back of my mind that i wanted to share a little bit about, because i think it’s highlights a little bit of karlie’s easter egging prowess

so as many of you know, i have had a certain piece of jewelry identification that’s been top of mind for awhile. a mysterious (and hilarious) evil eye necklace that karlie first wore on her birthday last year, august 3rd, 2022:

it took a long while to identify but with the help of @kwyw and @corneliastvendor and input from many more, we diligently settled upon a match with the brand Mejuri.

so

…i dunno if you remember, but back at the beginning of the year @kwyw also pointed out that there was an extra connection, between this evil eye necklace and the amulette de cartier:

both talismans of Courage.

the amulette de cartier has its own place in kaylor lore (if it’s new to you you can read about that here and here and here). but, veterans of quarantine kaylor remember how this rep era necklace made a unique surprise appearance during lover/folklore era, ultimately coinciding with karlie’s 2020 pregnancy. which, given the symbolism of the necklace, i think made a lot of thematic sense… being pregnant during the height of a pandemic is scary and, speaking from experience, i as well found myself in search of things to give me that extra peace of mind.

so seeing the necklace have that Courage keyword connection, i couldn’t help but uhhh, have a feeling so peculiar. now, with the gift of more (celebratory) information, let’s take a look at all the times karlie has worn this necklace (*reminder that some of these may be a day off because of the big time zone difference between me and the US):

August 3rd, 2022 — (as pictured above) karlie’s birthday, she writes “cheers to new beginnings xx”

September 2nd, 2022 — this therabody promo, which many of us got a kick out of after midnights was announced, first because she mentions 3am (the name of the extra version of the album) and the word midnight and second because this tiktok is set to the tune of ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! A Man After Midnight”

November 19th, 2022 — a post captioned friyay, notably, wearing a loewe shirt, the designer who she wore to the met gala

December 11th, 2022 — to a celebratory kode with klossy event for her young scholars

December 13th, 2022 — she wore it as part of several instagram stories she had up on taylor’s bday (thank you @kwyw for the reminder 😆)

December 18th, 2022 — she posted this the same day she posted the photos of her josh and levi at the ice skating rink (mikey and misha were there too) before heading to japan.

February 3rd, 2023 — february.jpg

and then, at the met gala on May 1st, wearing loewe, she announces her pregnancy, and tells everybody that she is nearly 8 months along!

now, if we are to assume that she is 8 months along this may, we can count back ( 7mo along in april, 6mo march, 5mo feb, 4mo jan, 3mo dec, 2mo nov, 1mo along in oct, 0mo sept) and see how in order to have conceived in september, prep for that would likely have started in… yes, the month before. august! aka… when she first debuted the evil eye necklace!

and when you look back at all the phrases and contexts accompanying her posts with the piece, you can kind of see how the necklace works in concert with her setting her intentions, potentially celebrating milestones like finding out, telling people, hitting the 5 mo mark which is when the majority of pregnancies become more stable, etc… this is all to say, and this is just a simple thing but, i feel confident in saying that this necklace was in fact one way of her hinting at her next child, since all the way back in august 2022 ☺️ and since it’s an eye necklace? well, 😌 all the more nice of a feeling.

#evil eye #all eyes on us #jewelry

[letters-to-rosie]

Minutes to Midnight is seriously and envy-inducingly good! But I just want to say that, when you said "one shot of all time", my mind immediately went to you've got your demons, and darling, they all look like me. And then I got reminded of why it's my personal favorite (other than it being plain good, ofc): the summary. A well-written fic is a well-written fic, obviously, but the perfect summary really adds to the experience. Like how it catches your eye and makes your heart race because you know that an author who can write such a summary... well. They also can and probably did write a fic that blows your clothes off and turns them inside out before sending them to the hamper. It's about the anticipation.

Ahem, so anyway. I started thinking about how few words one needs to evoke an emotional response, and I wanted to share my excitement about that.

ahhhh thanks for the recommendation!!

I'mma use this as a little bit more time to gush over Minutes to Midnight just because, and then gush over you've got your demons as well because oh man. thank you for sending it my way!!

Ekko is my favorite character, but I am also a big fan of making him Worse, and I love how Minutes to Midnight does it in a way that feels so authentic. like I can extrapolate him right away from what we see in the show. and this is the only fic I can think of that really takes it to such an extreme, but again it's done so compellingly that it really feels like a Jinx version of Ekko, even if Jinx remains similarly filled with rage. there are just so many lines I love and I could list them all day but when it culminates at the end, tying together the time themes and the regret and the betrayal it's just... I love it so much

one line for fun: She’s bleeding, choking, underneath him, and he hits her, and hits her, don’t you get it, I could have done this anytime I wanted but I didn’t, I didn’t, I gave you my life and you threw it back in my face, even as she claws at him alley-cat-desperate.

every time I read it, I'm just in my room, actually screaming lol

and now for you've got your demons!!!!

there were also a ton of lines I could have pulled out but then we'd be here all day but

Dark against light - though the light has always been Ekko. i cry She chose him long before he chose her. i cry endlessly Powder never asks Vi her favorite color, because she doesn’t know what she’d do if she didn’t say the same thing Ekko did. a never-ending stream

but man it's just so stunning. like you said, I love how few words it uses to get its story across. getting to read prose that packs that sort of punch is always so special. Powder/Jinx is just so relatable and you really feel her struggles come through. her tangle of confusion and not getting things like marriage really resonated with my ace self (and I always enjoy an ace-spec Jinx). but her crush was so precious I just wanted to hug her and let her be happy with Ekko and maybe my delusional ass can imagine that they are someday in that fic universe lol

and the way the summary gets entirely recontextualized at the end????? INCREDIBLE truly a one-shot of all time. we have to make it an indefinite article now lmao

I got super lucky because the author of "you've got your demons" wrote my gift for the secret santa we just had!! that fic is called Moonlight Refuge and let me tell you if it didn't convey every emotion I wanted, which is the "I should want nothing to do with you but I can't help myself" part of timebomb, and in this one it's mutual and just fantastic. I spent like half my comment writing AHHH because the emotions were just everywhere it was a good time

also hi @cranechel we're in the corner gushing over your fic... I will leave a comment soon but wanted to answer this lol

#asks #arcane #fanfiction #timebomb #ekko #jinx #ekkojinx #go read the fics #they are great #then sign a petition to stopkosa if you're in the us okay love you bye #also if anyone else wants to send me their one-shot of all time plz feel free lol

[mochinomnoms]

Cater having a really bad depressive episode to the point where he is using his um way to much to keep up with the cay-cay people want to see

Cater getting to the point he can’t even bring himself to make a clone bc people find him annoying anyway right? So he’s probably doing them a favor by not showing up

Riddle, tray and the light music club being some of the only ones that pick up on caters overuse of his clones until one day he just doesn’t show up at all and going to check on him

I live for angst and have chosen my next victim for when I temporarily run out of ideas to torment cater with 😈

-🐝

Me, worried for the next victim:

i jest, i jest, we all love a good bunch of angst, I'm preferencial to humor and fluff myself tho.

As such, I like to think that Cater does get a lot of support from Trey in particular. They are pretty close, they were roommates up until their third-year, so Trey has a good grasp on Cater and his moods. Riddle is very perceptive of his dorm members, even if he's only been around for a year. Normal he'd be furious about Cater ditching, but by now he's a bit more (just a bit) mellowed out. Trey explains to him what's going on and while he's pushing for Cater to see the nurse (lord knows that Crowley doesn't pay for a counselor), he's instead offering to get Cater his missed work and speaking to the profressors on his behalf. After all, he cares for his dorm members and Cater is no exception.

I imagine that only Lilia really notices that he's using the clones, Kalim is so sweet but not nearly as perceptive. He doesn't wish to intrude, but Lilia has both seen and experiences first hand how bad depressive episodes can be. Cater finds snacks and notes left for him in his room after leaving for the bathroom, writing in Lilia's hand writing with a kind reminder that he is cared for and only his presence is really needed for people to enjoy him for him. Kalim managed to convince Lilia to also sneak in a plushie that he swears up and down that is a cure for all bad feelings (it's his parrot plushie that he's had since a kid).

Idk, he's got depresso espresso, but he's also got good friends. It'll take time for him get better and it may never really go away, which is why I'm now going to threaten Crowley with arson so that he'll hire a therapist and counselor brb-

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #cater diamond #gonna turn the crow into asada and eat him in a taco #🐝 anon