1K Appreciation Post ↳ ❝You’ve got a friend in me.❞
Hey guys, just wanted to say thank you to each and everyone of my followers and all the amazing people here in the AOS fandom! I would have never imagined that I could reach this milestone and yet I have, all thanks to you guys. :)
It’s definitely rewarding and for it to coincide with my birthday made it that much better! Everyone here has been so friendly, kind, humble and super funny. I love to read all your hashtag humor which always makes me happy. Also thanks to all the friends I have gotten to known here, sorry if you had to listen to my endless vents.
Last but not certainly not least I would like to recommend following these babes (in no particular order) simply because they are amazing souls with a great heart and a crazy amount of talent :
Prompt: “I don’t care what consequences it brings, I’ve been a fool for lesser things.” The Longest Time - Billy Joel Pairing: Misha x Reader Word Count: 1,135 Warnings: None? A/N: This is my entry for Angelina’s (aka @atc74) 1K celebration challenge. I feel like I haven’t written a oneshot in forever! Hope you guys like it! Anyway, feedback for this is
Dean jumps slightly when the bunker’s door creaks. It’s been over a month, but he still thinks please, please, please before looking up.
“Cas,” Sam says.
Cas’ shoulders are stiff. “Hello.”
“Hey. You’re all right. Um ─” Cas turns away and starts down the stairs. Sam glances at Dean before continuing, “Where’ve you been?”
Dean’s pulse is thumping in his ears. “Lemme rephrase that for Sam: where the hell’ve you been? And why’ve you ignored our phone calls?”
“Where I was,” Cas says, pausing beside the table, “the reception was ─ um. Poor.”
Dean’s jaw tics; being angry is easier than ─ it’s just easier. He grunts, “No bars,” and looks back at Sam. “No bars ─ that’s his excuse.” He takes a breath and meets Cas’ eyes. “Wow.”
“I was in Heaven. I was… working with the angels.”
Dean’s mouth moves but nothing comes out. On his third try he says, “You ─ Heaven? You were in Heaven?”
“So you ─ uh. You.” Heat crowds up underneath Dean’s jaw. “You were - did you -?” He’s not sure he wants to ask that question in front of Sam, so he grumbles, “Whatever,” and walks out of the War Room.
Characters- Sam x Reader, Mary Summary- You can’t leave it alone, so you have to say your piece. All you can do is hope she’ll listen, and that Sam won’t be too upset. Word Count- 1,620 Warnings- mild cursing? Also kind of calling Mary out a little on her bs about “needing space”. A/N- This is for Hazel & Dreamer’s 1k/2k ‘Sammy Says’ Writing Challenge! My prompt was “I mean, what if there’s something…not natural?” I’m sorry it’s a little late, ladies but I hope you enjoy!
You know you shouldn’t be here, and yet you are. If Sam knew, you were sure he’d tell you to leave it be. He’d tell you that it ‘doesn’t matter’. Like hell it matters, you think. You knew it mattered to him. To Dean, too. They were your broken little family and if you could do anything to fix it, you would.
That’s why you were in Oregon. Tracking the phone hadn’t been that hard- the tricky part was setting up the meeting in the old diner to look like coincidence. You angled yourself just right, right at the bar where you knew she’d sit and waited. It wasn’t long until she showed, blonde hair curled nicely and clothes not too unlike what you were wearing. You watched her out of the corner of your eye, her eyes tripping over your own figure before she beelined toward you. You act nonchalant, pushing yourself to act natural.
I say this pretty much every week, but it’s still true every week–this is a collection of fics that I’m really, really glad exist in the STAR WARS fandom, there are some that are just absolute gems that should be shoved in people’s faces because they’re just so good. Some fics that are the kind that make my brain all fizzy with how much I enjoy them and how satisfying and/or heartbreaking and/or joyous they can be. All the things Star Wars should be!
✦ Tano and Kenobi by FireflyFish, obi-wan & ahsoka & cast, 65k Master Skywalker always said “The Force works in mysterious ways” and Ahsoka Tano has to admit, getting thrown backwards in time by about forty years was very mysterious. ✦ untitled by fireflyfish, obi-wan & anakin, ~1k “You should be inside,” a voice says, painfully familiar. “The desert can kill with cold just as easily as with heat, Master.” ✦ Family by lilyconrad, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & darth maul & cast, sith!obi-wan, 6.8k Seven years after the duel on Naboo, Obi-Wan Kenobi has turned to the dark, Maul has turned to the light, and young Anakin is caught somewhere in-between. Can Qui-Gon rescue his Padawan before it’s too late? ✦ Oversharing by glare-gryphon, obi-wan/anakin & obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 2.4k In summary: it was about Obi-Wan feeling it every time Anakin & Padme have sex & getting frustrated about it. ✦ Pies, Books, and Swords, obi-wan & qui-gon/tahl, 1.2k Qui-Gon Jinn has made quite a good name for himself, as far as holonet cooking shows go. ✦ Back To The Wind by mylordshesacactus, ahsoka/barriss & cast, 16.2k A hyperdrive malfunction strands Ahsoka in a nearly-abandoned trading settlement in the Outer Rim. That’s not the problem. ✦ wonderterror by peradi, han/leia & han/luke & obi-wan/anakin (maybe?) & anakin/padme & cast, 6.5k The Skywalkers aren’t entirely human. Here’s what that means. ✦ The Question, Twenty Years Late by Eirian Erisdar, obi-wan/satine & luke, 1.2k Set just post-ROTJ in a timeline where Satine survived. Waiting alone for an emissary from the newly-formed Imperial Senate to demand Mandalore’s fealty to the Empire, Satine is surprised by an unexpected guest, holding a very precious bundle. ✦ Dreamers by LuchaDoRa, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 6.2k Obi-Wan dreams sometimes. So does Anakin. ✦ Sigh No More by edenwolfie, obi-wan/anakin/padme & ahsoka & luke & leia & cast, 158.2k wip Anakin makes slightly better choices, Obi-Wan is a Mess™ and Padmé deserves none of this. AU from Mustafar onward with liberal manipulation of canon to culminate in some angsty, fluffy, domestic fix-it because we all deserve better. ✦ Broken by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin & rex & padme & cast, NSFW, sith!obi-wan (sort of), dark themes, 20.8k wip The Twins are unstoppable enforcers of the Emperor’s will, the sun and moon that hang in the black void of his rule. It is said they are not the same age and that under their hoods they do not look alike, but they fight as one entity, silent and terrible as an eclipse in a spring sky. ✦ No Galaxy for Good Jedi by Annie_Walker, obi-wan & anakin & padme & qui-gon & dooku & yoda & cast, some obi-wan/satine, sith!qui-gon, 124.8k wip Obi-Wan Kenobi was only a young padawan when he ran away with three-year old Anakin. He had no choice after his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, fell to the Dark Side by Master Dooku’s manipulations. ✦ untitled by albaparthenicevelut, obi-wan & anakin, accidental pirate obi-wan, 1k Obi Wan was in Scarif, which was concerning actually. Obi Wan Kenobi, Rebel Operative, Dashing Duke, and Pirate King, should not be within a system of the Empire’s top secret military research base, much less in the very city in which it was located. ✦ and gravity, scientists say, is weak by victoria_p (musesfool), obi-wan & anakin + referenced obi-wan/satine, 3.2k “You’re not the only one who’s ever been in love, Anakin.” ✦ Rest by copper_sky, obi-wan/anakin, ~1k Anakin has a huge weakness for having his hair played with and a sleepy Obi-Wan indulges him.
This is the most I’ve ever had in my twenty years on this planet. I’ve had this blog for about one year and a half, and it started as just a dump spot for all the eruri fanarts and fics.
But it’s become one of my favorite pastimes :)
Meeting new people and of course still looking for amazing art and fics.
Since so many people of you have followed me, I feel like I need to step up my game a bit. Especially since I haven’t been too creative in a while (due to a busy period in my life)
But to celebrate a thousand of you. I promise I’ll be picking up writing again and who knows if my artskills improve I’ll start creating my own art. I’m really looking forward to put more effort in to this blog.
Anyways long rant with lots of promises but in the end all I wanted to say with this is:
Thank you guys so much, I don’t know why yoh’ve deciced to follow me, but you seriously make my day ❤️💖❤️
A/N: OK SO, I changed my URL from zuberrieee to house-of-seoul for anyone and for my followers (WE REACHED 350?!?!) who might have any questions. As for Saudade pt 3 umm, I’m currently editing it rn. but I just was feeling florist au today and look where we are right now. please love it, raise it, take care of it, and send it off to college. maybe ill make another part to this if y’all want me to. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ don’t hate me <3 <3 <3
Serendipity;↪ the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.
The frigid winter air curled around the silk petals of the flowers. They shuddered in pleasure as their colours brightened in comparison to the darkening clouds looming above you. From far away, the diverse array of petals looked like the aftermath of an explosion, bouts of confetti splayed across the wooden stall. Closer up, the green foliage rolled off into leaves and the bulbs of colour peeled into layers upon layers, outlining the delicate flora of nature itself.
The pale pink apron flapped against your knees as you scuttled back to your flower stall, away from the reckless gusts of wind. You noticed how some of the stems had become dislodged within the bunch, looking like colourful arrows piercing the air. Your expert fingers tucked them back into place and then ran through the disarray of your hair, quickly trying to smooth back any stray strands. Goosebumps arose on your exposed skin and a shiver tumbled down the knobs of your spine.
It was definitely wintertime in Seoul.
Customers hurriedly ran through the streets, sparing passing glances to the flower stall stuffed to the brim with colour. You would describe the stall as a mirage of beauty in amongst the dullness of the city. The scent was overwhelming, yet so delicate at the same time.
The previously darkening grey clouds were now beginning to burst with speckles of rain. You noticed how there was something else which slipped under the scent of your stall. It was a bitter musk that was sometimes sparkled with sweetness and cinnamon. It slipped through the doors of the neighbouring café and latched onto a gust of wind, travelling over to settle into the splinters of your wooden stall.
You didn’t know a time when the scent was not present. Coffee was strong and overpowering – it was a rush. Flowers were quaint and delicate – it was a gentle trickle through the veins. Coffee and flowers were opposites, but both fit together like a lock and key.
It was late in the afternoon and you were trying your very best to keep the smile on your face. You loved your stall – adored it in fact – but the weather was buzzing too close to your skin and the ever-looming rent to pay was closing in on you. It seemed as if luck was entirely against you when you spotted a young man looking as if he was about to edge his way over when the heavens well and truly opened. Your encouraging smile was washed off your lips when the suited man had scurried down the street before you could’ve even had blinked.
Thankfully, the drooping canopy above covered the flowers from getting water-clogged, all the while, though, the rain was making sure that you would be drenched by the time it had stopped.
You were leaning against the stall, head down and arms wrapped around yourself in a bid to contain some heat, when you noticed a russet-crowned angel tottered over to you. You giggled internally at yourself because since when did angels totter?
Of course, it was not an angel, but in fact a petit, espresso-haired, espresso-smelling, but a fairly light-skinned boy, teetered up to you. You instantly named him espresso, but then had a sudden urge to know what his real name was, because you were sure that that name was not worthy. You did think that, though, the boy could possibly be some type of descendant from God because small hands were passing over a steaming cardboard cup. The heat radiated from it and tingled at your skin. The sweet smell of tea and the tinge of bitterness fused with the smell of lavender and lilac made your heart fuzz with warmth.
He had a small smile on his lips. It was somewhat weak, nervous as if he was worried that he was overstepping the general societal boundaries. It reminded you of a snowdrop. His eyes could only be described as copper against honey and sage. You wondered if they blossomed into a stronger, deeper, colour. His dark brown fringe was pushed across his forehead but the rest was covered by a black hood. He still had his apron on; Café Amour standing stark on his chest in white embroidery.
“I thought you could use a bit of warmth,” the boy said, looking at you with such sincere care.
“You didn’t have to,” you muttered, voice quiet and shy, though still laced with thanks.
“You’re freezing out here in the cold, of course I had to.” The boy said it with laughter behind his tone and a smile toying at the corners of his lips.
He pushed the beverage closer to you, practically forcing it into your hands. You cradled it between your hands after accepting it. The heat was in such contrast to the coldness of your skin that it scalded, tiny pinpricks of pain stabbing at your pores.
“Thank you,” you simply replied. “I- you really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it, honestly.”
“’it’s my pleasure,” shrugged the boy.
You blew it, mesmerised as usual by the little storm that you created, the ripples in the light brown liquid that pushed to the edge. After taking a sip and sighing in relief as it trickled down your throat, warmth spread through all of your veins until it cradled your head with a lovely haze.
When you looked back up, you saw the boy smiling quaintly at you, hands tucked under his armpits as he hugged himself tight.
“You’ve got a lovely stall here,” he said, eyes scattering glances over the flowers.
“Thanks, it’s kind of my pride and joy, so, yeah.”
“I can tell,” is the reply, along with a knowing smile.
“Oh,” you said suddenly. “How much do I owe you, uh…” you posed it as a question, your slow drawl rising in tone at the end.
It took a few seconds for him to catch on, but then he was shaking his head and smiling even more.
“Jimin. My name’s Jimin.”
He held out his hand, waiting for you to shake it, but promptly realised that your hands were currently occupied by the steaming cup of tea and giggled to himself. You found yourself chuckling, too, the laughter from the boy being somewhat infectious.
“Y/N,” you replied in a slightly flushed voice. You cocked your head to the side and smiled widely, nodding your head as a greeting. Jimin just smiled more. The rain was still pitter-pattering around you, but you didn’t seem to notice, let alone care.
“And you don’t owe me anything, think of it as a gift to a neighbour, or something.”
You frowned, “But I have to give you something in return, that isn’t fair.”
“I honestly don’t need anything. Think of it as you helping with my good deed of the day.” He said it with such truth and kindness that you wanted to know why you ever thought the world, people, had changed for the worse.
“Anyway, I have to get back to my shift, but stay warm, yeah?” Jimin said, turning away with a smile.
“Yeah…” you murmured. Suddenly, an idea sprung into the forefront of your mind. You quickly slid the tea onto the counter and scanned the bunches of flowers. Reaching out, you let your fingers wrap around the thin stem and grasp it tightly. You turned around and called out Jimin’s name.
When the boy turned around, water flicking from the tip of his hood and eyes wide, the first thing he saw was the single pink carnation held out in front of him. Its petals were smattered with droplets of water and an edge of an outer petal was curled over, but it still looked pretty as ever. It was baby pink in colour and the petals were wounded together in an intricate design. They were a maze of expensive silk, a perfect mess.
The boy looked up at you in confusion.
“It means gratitude. To say thank you. For… you know.”
Jimin’s eyes flickered between the flower and you.
Uncertainty crept up your neck, causing you to raise your hand and rub at the skin. “It’s not much, I know, and it’s probably stupid but-”
“Thank you,” Jimin interrupted. He carefully took the flower from your fingers and studied it carefully. His eyes were wide and brighter than before. His fingertip prised apart some of the soft petals, ever so carefully and cautiously, as if he was scared to damage it.
A voice scraped through the atmosphere, the calling of Jimin’s name, and the boy was suddenly snapped out of his daze. He gripped the flower as he parted from you with a raise of his hand, and disappeared into the shop.
The rain stopped soon after that.
The weather was dull but the afternoon held faith in the small glimpses of the sun as it peeked out from behind the clouds. You could not help but smile truthfully as customers passed. The breeze was twisting its way in between your hair and the dampness that resided in the air kept you breathing in and out, in and out.
You remembered the elderly man who arrived at your stall no less than ten minutes after opening. His frail fingertips had traced the petals of a lilac, before settling on a bunch of white carnations. You had asked him whether he knew what they implied, and the man had nodded his head with a wry smile. A story unfolded soon after from the old man’s lips, a one founded before you had even graced the earth.
Soon after, customers arrived throughout the day, but you were still stuck with a cluster of now-wilting daisies. You felt good though. Nice could be an adjective to describe it, regardless of how generic and lacklustre it may be.
A waft of sugared air swept under your senses and forced you out of your reverie. It was at that moment you realised that maybe Nice is about to extend its arms to, well, Extra-Nice.
The boy – Jimin – came traipsing out of Café Amour, and you suddenly realised that the skipping of your lunch was not your best idea. In fact, your stomach grumbled at the smell of honeyed treats and other delights.
He was there, in front of you, holding out a maroon cardboard cup and a twitching smile.
“Hello,” is all you could conjure up as a reply.
“I brought you more coffee. Because. Well- I actually don’t know, but- um, here,” Jimin stammered, passing over the cup.
You looked up at him from under your lashes, a small smile playing your lips. The stall was clouded with the smell of flowers, but Jimin was as clear as anything. “Thank you,” you said because you did not know what else to add. It didn’t feel enough, but your words seemed to be stuck in your throat.
You took the drink and held it close to your chest. The weather was not as cold as the last time, but the warmth left a lovely bubble in your chest. Or maybe that was something else, who knows.
“Are you okay?” you asked because the lilac pouches that draped under Jimin’s honeyed irises looked a worrying shade too close to last month’s batch of violets that only lasted a day or two, at most.
The boy shrugged and let out a sigh, unintentionally, you presumed, and tried to smile as best as he could have had. It was lacklustre and weak, but it was something, so you grinned back so hard that a dimple pierced your cheek. In turn, Jimin’s smile widened, so you counted that as a success.
“Enjoy your tea,” Jimin said quietly, before turning around to leave.
Only letting yourself gaze at the retreating figure for a second, you carefully placed down the tea and scuttled down to your stall. There, you picked out the brightest, yet richest, yellow coreopsis that you had.
It happened similarly to the last time; you calling out Jimin’s name, him turning around to be faced with a large, round, scented thing so close to his nose that it tickled.
“Yellow coreopsis: cheerfulness.”
Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed as he plucked it from your fingers and inspected the small beauty. He looked up towards you, whose smile matched the flower almost exactly.
“And, well, I think you need cheering up, so- yeah, here.”
Jimin’s eyes flittered down to the flower. His eyelashes were thick and long, fanning over the sunny petals. He leaned down and breathed in the scent. Warm stripes of brown cut through the black veil of his lashes as he looked back up at you. “Thank you,” he said with true sincerity, eyes glittering.
You just smiled because, hell, somehow you have moved from Nice to Extra Nice, to Downright Happy.
You sighed happily as you remembered your sweet grandmother. Whenever you visited her, you would carry, hobble, and walk her out into the back garden where rows and rows of flowers blossomed from the soil. As a young child, the smells and colours made you one of the happiest kids around. Somehow, though your grandmother knew that it was more than just the aesthetics.
The clouds today were high and the air was dense.
The petit man cradling a cup of tea appeared yet again today, only this time, his eyes were dulled with a shroud of darkness and his lips had been sewn with a certain downturn that alerted your conscience.
“You’re stressed,” you stated because it was true. Jimin’s foot was shifting restlessly against the stone pavement and his first fingertip of his right hand was tapping rhythmic patterns against his bicep. His eyes flitted from places to place.
Jimin looked surprised at your words. Finally, focusing his eyes on you, he looked almost relieved. A sigh heaved from his body and his shoulders slumped into slopes for his stress to tumble down.
“Yeah,” he said, voice raspy, “I really am.”
You leaned back and took a sip of the tea. Jimin pushed his fringe off his face, body still tense, as your eyes searched his form noncommittally. “Anything I can help with?”
Jimin smiled wryly and glances up the street. “If you can perform instead of me at my dance recital tomorrow evening, then yeah, you can help me.”
You scrunched your face up and feigned thought. “Just give me time to put some shoes on my knees, straighten my hair, and re-watch the High School Musical series, then yeah, I think I might just be able to help.”
Jimin’s mouth cracked opens into a humoured smile. His eyebrows raised involuntarily and his eyes ignited with the fizzle of peace. Unable to hide his glee, a giggle bubbled from in between your lips.
Once Jimin’s laughter has spiraled out, he shook his head at you. His eyes were lighter than before. A twist was still curled at the corner of his lips, and it was evident that his action was not done in a sardonic sense, more so disbelief.
“You’re sure are something, aren’t you?” he posed, although it was more of a statement than anything.
“Anything to help,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders and an overzealous grin slicing in between your reddened lips like a white Amazon lily in between a flock of red celosia.
The two of you stared at each other, taking the time to let your eyes drawled over his soft features, memorising every line on his face.
“I should probably go,” he said, without any conviction whatsoever, “I’ve got coffee to pour and cookies to steal for later when I have my inevitable breakdown at two in the morning.”
“And I’ve got to pretend to preen the flowers even though I’ve already done it about ten times in the past hour.”
He smiled, “Sounds like hard work.”
“The hardest,” you answered, smirking through your smile.
The breeze whistled in the background as you two just stood there, staring and smiling quietly. After a moment, a while, Jimin spoke. His tone was soft and quiet, timid, almost. “Thank you.”
You merely smiled at him before you nipped around the other side of the stall, eyes roaming the many colours. Your fingers curled around the correct stems and pull them gently from their bouquet. Blanketing the two single flower stems with his heated palm, you meandered back around the stall and approached the still-waiting Jimin.
“Here,” you offered the two flowers to Jimin.
His eyes glanced down and swirled around the heads of the flowers. They flit back up to you before returning to the beauties, dusting the petals with his attention. “What do they mean?” he enquired.
“The iris is for inspiration and the black-eyed Susan is for encouragement. Thought you might need them.” you said, shrugging your shoulders and pressing your lips together, suddenly coming across somewhat shy.
“Thank you,” Jimin repeated, staring at you with great sincerity and true honesty. If his eyes were a smell, they would be vanilla frosting on cinnamon cupcakes; warm and comforting, true care and true kindness.
You smiled back and replied, “Good luck, Jimin.”
With a blink, a smile, and a nod, Jimin turned and wandered back into the coffee shop. And if you spent an inordinate amount of time staring at an iris and trying to figure out just what made it so Jimin-like, then, well, nobody has to know.
Saranya (Kajal) and Raghu (Rana) are two ambitious, strong-willed young people. Both have planned out a path for their lives: degree, job, profit, fame. But in the scramble to get the most out of their professional lives, their personal lives have fallen by the wayside. When their life paths cross, will their disagreements help them gain a new perspective on love and relationships? Or will the head-butting between them be too much and leave their lives in disarray?