His Imperial Highness Crown Prince Yuuri Katsuki of Japan is floating.
He’s not sure exactly what Minako had put into his tea. His housekeeper (minder, Yuuri thinks vaguely) had sworn it was a tonic for his nerves, but it tastes like alcohol and it burns through him like alcohol, and maybe he’d wrested an entire bottle of whiskey from her because there is a Jack Daniels bottle discarded at the foot of his bed. And at some point he’d given up on a teacup.
He wants out of this stuffy hotel room, wants to drink in the night lights of the city below. His Eastern European diplomatic tour had taken him from Moscow to Saint Petersburg, and from there he’d eventually go on to the Ukraine, Romania, Bulgaria, and a list of other countries and cities that he can’t be arsed to remember right now. It’d been nothing but meetings and greetings, hand-shaking and ribbon cutting and baby kissing until his lips felt chapped and his fingers ached. The only time he’s had to himself were the ten-minute respites driving from location A to location B, and these lonely nights in penthouse suites of fancy hotels in the heart of cities he was never meant to explore as an ordinary person.
His penthouse suite has access to the roof. Yuuri stumbles along, telling the bodyguards that he needs some air. He can hear them following at a distance, though, as he climbs the stairwell up to the roof of this grand hotel.
Out on the roof, Saint Petersburg spreads out below him, a brisk sea breeze blowing wildly as he breathes in the night air. His hair stirs in the wind; it’s getting a bit long, but he hasn’t had the heart to cut it in a while. Below him the bright glow of streetlights accentuate the cars speeding along the streets, accompanied by buses and trams. Yuuri longs to be one of those people on the streets, driving the cars, sitting on the trams. Ordinary, easily lost in a crowd.
Instead, he shivers in his t-shirt and sweats, his hands gripping at the railing of the roof as he looks out at the distant green-blue dome of a cathedral lit in the night, and all the surrounding elegant buildings that feel like bars in an elegant gilded cage. He needs just a day off. One day without people shepherding him into place and speeches about ‘peace and prosperity’ and ‘fostering good relations between Japan and Russia’. He has lunch with President Baranovskaya tomorrow, a tour of the new Mitsubishi plant on the outskirts of the city, a meet and greet with the press corps. And yet just the thought of each of these things makes him want to scream.
He sways slightly on his feet, and then he notices the staff stairwell on the other side of the roof, and he has an idea.
Viktor Nikiforov is late on his story for the History Maker gossip tabloid, and based on the near-emptiness of his bottle of vodka, he knows that fairly well.
The problem is, this is his only bottle and it’s not nearly enough. So he puts on a light coat, nearly tripping over the slumbering form of his poodle Makkachin on his way out his apartment.
Just down to the corner store for another bottle. Not even a big bottle. He just needs to be the right amount of buzzed for this article to get out of him. Never mind the fact that when he started out in journalism he hadn’t needed to drink to do his damn job.
(Never mind the fact that when he started out, he had been writing for publications of actual repute. But that’s neither here nor there.)
Once he reaches the bottom landing, however, just nipping down for a bottle and then returning to his apartment of solitude suddenly feels like a terrible idea. With the sudden urge to take a walk along the embankment of the Fontana burning brightly in his mind, he rushes back up to his flat to wake his poodle, clipping on Makkachin’s leash and leading him out the door.
Kohlmarkt is one of the oldest streets in Vienna. It has a unique collection of upmarket stores, and is surrounded by historic buildings. Chanel, Tiffany’s, Cartier, and Louis Vuitton all have stores here. At the top of the street, is the green coloured copper dome that marks the entrance to Hofburg Palace. Many of the buildings that line the street were designed by some of Austria’s most famous architects.
World famous chocolate shop Demel is located on Kohlmarkt, and also features a chocolate museum. Demel sell chocolates, as well as cakes. Their themed window displays are always popular, and are considered an art in itself.
Bruce Banner x Daughter!
Reader and Peter Parker x Reader
Summary-You and your little
brother Wyatt have been living on your own since your mother ran out on you two
years ago. You hadn’t seen your father since you were 10 and now 7 years later
he shows up on your door step asking for your help. Him and the avengers need a
place to lay low for a while. Everyone is shocked to meet you and your brother.
They never expected Bruce to have kids. Let alone enhanced ones
Message- Here’s the first chapter for Green With Envy! Sorry if it sucks!!!
Warning- Mentions of child abandonment
and a drug addicted mom.
“Shit, shit! This is bad!! We need to find a place to lay
low for a while.” Tony says while he flies the quinjet. “Does anyone other than
Clint have a secret family we can stay with for a while?” Tony jokes and
everyone but Bruce laughs. Bruce sighs.
“Yeah, move over, Tony. I have a place.” Bruce says.
“Wait! You have a secret family?” Nat shouts.
“Yep.” Bruce mumbles. All of the other Avengers stare at him
in shock and Bruce does his best to ignore it. After a couple hours of flying
Bruce starts to land the plane. They all look out the window and they see a
young woman with green hair standing in the field beside the house. “You guys
should stay here, this might get ugly.”
“She looks a little young to be your wife.” Clint says.
“What!? No! She’s my 17 year old daughter!” Then Bruce takes
a deep breath and walks out of the quinjet.
“What the fuck are you doing here!? You abandoned us 7 years
ago! You have no right coming back! Me and Wyatt have been doing just fine without
you!!” You scream.
“What do you mean you and Wyatt? Where’s your mother?” your
father asks looking concerned. He hadn’t wanted to leave but you mother had
kicked him out about a month after Wyatt was born.
“She left two years ago, the visions became too much for her
to deal with so she started to do drugs to block them out. One day I woke up
and found a note saying she couldn’t handle it anymore. She said she couldn’t
be our mom anymore. Fury has been taking care of us since. He tried to find you
but after Ultron you fell off the map. But I told him you didn’t have any interest
in us anyway.” You sneer.
“Your mother kicked me out, Y/N. I didn’t have a choice!”
You can see his skin ripple green. Good. That’s what you really wanted. You
needed to have a few words with Hulk. Then you see the Avenger come running.
They must have seen your father start to get angry. But you can’t let the interrupt
so you use your powers and surround you and your father in a green dome.
“You abandoned us!” you shriek! “I haven’t seen you since I was
10, Wyatt was what a month old when you left!”
“I wasn’t safe to be around! I could have hurt you or Wyatt!”
“I can take care of myself.” You yell back, you lift your
open hand up towards him and you shoot a bolt of energy into your Dad. Then you
close use your telekinesis to throw him against the dome wall. You are vaguely aware
of the Avengers banging against the dome. Trying to tell you to stop. “I want
to talk to him. So stop trying to keep him away!” you scream.
“He’ll hurt you!” Your dad yells back.
“No, he won’t! He’s always protected me!”
“Fine!” then your Dad starts to grow and turn green,
eventually the person standing in front of you isn’t your father, it the Hulk.
You look at his face and instead of anger you saw shame.
“You let him leave! You promised me that you wouldn’t let
him! I trusted you!” You scream as you shoot bolts at him. He just stands there
and takes it. “Everything that’s wrong with my life is your fault! You took my
dad away from me! You’re the reason I’m a freak! You’re the reason mom left!
Wyatt doesn’t even know the two of you!”
“So you can talk, that’s new.” You said as you looked over
to the Avengers. Vision was currently trying to phase through your dome. “I
think I’m giving your team a heart attack. Just so you know I don’t forgive
you-yet. You have a lot of trust to earn back, and so does Dad.” Hulk grunts in
agreement. “Wyatt’s inside, if you give dad back his body, I’ll introduce them.”
Hulk grunts again and he starts to shrink down until your dad is standing in
front of you. “I know mom kicked you out and I know you stayed away to protect
us. I wish you hadn’t but we can’t change the past. Just know that if you ever
do something that stupid again, I will never forgive you.”
“D-did your Mom give you and Wyatt the letter I sent?”
“No, I found them when she left.” Your dad nods like he
“Is Wyatt gifted?”
“Yeah, he kind of takes after Mom. But not as intense, he
goes into this trance and his eyes go white, then he draws an image of the
future. When he snaps out of it he has no memory of it happening. I should
probably drop the dome and let your friends in.” You say looking over at the
Avengers. They’re a little calmer now that the big guy was gone, but they were
looking at you warily.
“That would probably be for the best. How did you know that
we were coming?” your dad asks.
“Wyatt drew it yesterday. He’s excited to meet you, he’s
just as smart as the two of us, maybe even a little smarter.” You say grinning
at your Dad. Then you bring the dome down and the avengers come running. That’s
when you notice him, Spiderman. He’s wearing the suit but not the mask and you realize
that he’s your age. “You have a teenager on the Avengers?” you ask your Dad and
he shrugs. “You guys can follow me into the house, I saw what happened on the
news. You guys are here to law low, right?” They all nod and you turn and start
walking back to your house. When you get in you see your brother painting on
the wall. “Fuck.” You whisper as you run over to him. His eyes are white and
unfocused as he uses his fingers to smear the paint around. You know better
than to try to break the trance so you keep the Avengers away from him. Then
you see Fury walk in. “When did he-“
“A couple minutes after you went outside.” Fury’s says
cutting you off. You look at the painting and you see that it’s the world
literally crumbling apart.
“That’s a pretty disturbing image for a seven year old to be
drawing. Are any of the three of you going to stop him?” Tony Stark asks.
“No, it’s not him and he can’t control it. He’s enhanced, he
draws future possibilities. It’s dangerous to try to snap him out of it.” You murmur.
“What the hell have you guys gotten yourselves into?”
“How do you know that the painting has anything to do with
us?” Natasha asks.
“Just a feeling.” You say as you watch your brother paint.
After about 10 minutes his little body sags in exhaustion. You walk over to him
and pull him into a hug. “Dad’s here and he brought the Avengers. They would
all really like to meet you.” You whisper into Wyatt’s ear. He looks over to
where they are all standing and he starts to smile a little.
“Can I meet them after sleep? I’m real tired, Sissy.” Wyatt
“Sure, you earned a nap. You pained a real big painting.”
Wyatt then starts to stumble towards his room. Fury follows him to make sure he
gets into bed safely and you turn to the Avengers. “I’m sure you all have
question.” After you say that everyone starts talking at once. You sigh and sit
at the kitchen table. This was going to be a long day.
Beautiful faces are not necessarily those which have had make up and foundation placed upon them after sitting down for hours trying to get it right in order to hide the blemishes. Beautiful faces are those which are placed down in prostration out of humility and awe for the Great One. Beautiful faces are ones that are illuminated through the water of wudhu in the middle of the night and decorated by the light of loving the Messenger. Beautiful lips are not always attained through lip gloss and lip stick. They are attained through the remembrance of Allah and through us practising the Muhammadan Smile ﷺ when life is tough and you feel like giving up. Beautiful eyes are not always achieved through mascara and the lengthening of eye lashes. Beautiful eyes are achieved through repentance and saying sorry all alone whilst the world sleep. They are achieved through us weeping in the love of Madinah and through us constantly yearning for the Custodian of the Green Dome. Beautiful bodies are not always attained through desiring superficial bodies like those we see on TV. Beautiful bodies are attained through standing, bowing, sitting and praying like we saw in the Tayba of the Beloved.
Special Containment Procedures: All specimens of SCP-111 in captivity are housed at Site-19, ██████████ Wing, in a 5m x 5m x 5m plexiglass enclosure containing a temperate forest habitat transplanted from its natural surroundings. Habitat temperature will be maintained at 30° C. Feeding is to take place weekly by personnel placing three (3) kg of iceberg lettuce (Lactuca sativa) into the containment chamber. Water is to be supplied by an automatic misting system which regulates humidity levels at 50%, both for water required by SCP-111 and to prevent fires. In event of SCP-111 specimens breeding, personnel are to collect all eggs and transport them to the Biological Studies Wing for freezing.
Description: SCP-111 is an apparently artificial species of invertebrate vaguely resembling snails. Adult specimens of SCP-111 are approximately twenty (20) centimeters in length, twelve (12) centimeters in width, and fifteen (15) centimeters in height, although exact size differs slightly between specimens. SCP-111 specimens differ from ordinary snails in that they have a warm-blooded metabolism, complex eyes, small “horns” consisting of cartilage-ridged tentacles, apparently increased intelligence (personnel are requested to read Test Log ██████ for examples), and a complex vertebrate-type jaw structure; as well, specimens lay eggs possessing hardened shells.
Most abnormally, SCP-111 specimens possess small hollow sacs below their lower jaws containing methane from digestive by-products. A series of [DATA EXPUNGED] along the inside of the trachea serves as a “lighter” igniting stored methane as the specimen exhales, blowing a small jet of flame from its mouth. Said “fire-breathing” generally occurs in event of stress or anger, although is not apparently used deliberately for destruction but rather as a warning. This is presumably due to limited size of methane sacs, which limits SCP-111 specimens in the amount of fire they can exhale at a time, and requiring both time and starch-rich food to refuel.
SCP-111’s behavior is inconsistent with that of ordinary snail species, including whistling and hooting vocalizations easily audible to humans, high intellect seen in such tests as [DATA EXPUNGED], and parents caring for their young. Hatchlings have been observed imprinting on their parents, other members of their own species, or researchers. This is presumed to be a deliberate trait based on Document 111-a, as it means that hatchlings imprint upon owners.
History: On ██/██/████ a package containing twelve (12) SCP-111 eggs and Document 111-a was mailed to [DATA EXPUNGED], a Foundation front organization. Mobile Task Force Alpha-4 have proven unable to locate the sender of said package.
New from Dr. Wondertainment, DRAGON-SNAILS™!
The perfect pets for the fantasy-loving child.
Care & Hatching instructions:
1. Having read this document, take the eggs out of the box. Be careful, Dragon-Snail™ eggs are fragile! 2. Put the eggs in a warm, safe place, and wait 7 to 10 days. 3. Hold your newly-hatched Dragon-Snails™ so they get a good look at you and think you’re their mommy. 4. Enjoy your new pet Dragon-Snails™!
To feed your Dragon-Snails™, give your new little friends some raw veggies: lettuce, brussels sprouts, beans, any sort of salad stuff you don’t want! Remember to give them water - a small glass each, once a day.
For your enjoyment, Dragon-Snails™ come in six types! Breed them for unique pets!
1. Slimybellies®: Adorable and oozy little fellows, with awesome fire-engine red colored skin, little black horns and belly, and a speckled tan shell! Beautiful robin’s-egg-blue eggs!
2. Oozedrakes®: Inquisitive little creatures, with neat banana-colored skin, curly horns and striped shells! Pale tan eggs, like a chicken!
3. Goowyverns®: Dark blue-grey skin, flattened shells, and a bumpy-horned head make Goowyverns® look like tiny sea monsters! Eggs are a fantastic glassy-green color!
4. Blobworms®: Green-and-gold stripes, pointy shells, and a single horn, not to mention fuzzy tails, make Blobworms® wonderful pets! Eggs are tan, with a silver tint!
5. Glowdrakes®: New from Doctor Wondertainment, these little fellows may look like blue-black Slimybellies®… until they light up! That’s right, Glowdrakes® glow in the dark! Eggs are a golden color with little red dots!
6. Gunkwyverns®: Chubby, green-skinned, and dome-shelled, Gunkwyverns® make great pets! Eggs are transparent, so you can see the baby Dragon-Snail® inside!
Parental Notice: As Dr. Wondertainment’s Dragon-Snails™ breathe fire, they have been known to cause house fires. For maximum playtime fun and safety, it is recommended that fire extinguishers be kept handy. Despite this, Dr. Wondertainment is not legally, morally, or financially responsible for any injuries, death, or property damage resulting from unsafe use of Dragon-Snails™ or any other Dr. Wondertainment products.
By reading this document and incubating your Dragon-Snail™ eggs, you agree to all said terms and forfeit your rights to lawsuits, organized boycotts, protests, honor duels, etc.
On August 15, 1969, 45 years ago today, nearly half a million people flocked near White Lake, New York for “three days of peace and music.” The Woodstock festival was heralded as one of the most pivotal turning points in culture. The festival was a huge concert event that featured some of the world’s top musicians. And the ways in which Woodstock changed culture forever show just how important the festival was to society…The Woodstock American counterculture of the 1960s and early 1970s term is often interchangeable with ’ the hippie’s, although the latter term is sometimes used as an oath of derision. The characteristic traits of members of the Woodstock Nation include, but are not limited to, concern for the environment, embracing of left-wing political causes and issues allied to a strong sense of political activism, eschewing of traditional gender roles, vegetarianism, and enthusiasm for the music of the period.
1 Make love, not war. It’s a cliché, but it’s as sensible as anything anyone ever said anywhere. The Vietnam of the past is the Iraq of the present. We’re still at war, and would prefer not to be. 2 Natural foods are a way of life, not a lifestyle. Natural foods are not a fad diet. When people eat natural foods, and eat slow food and cook at home, those people enjoy better health. We know that people are committed to eating healthy, natural food because Outpost owners stick around, even during a recession. 3 Buying bulk saves money & the planet. “Unpackaged,” a new store in London recently opened its doors, marketing itself on this premise: customers buy empty containers, fill them in the store and return to re-fill them when they are empty. This keeps prices down, and keeps bottles out of landfill. We agree, and it’s why we’ve been offering bulk grains, soup, tea and spices for decades. 4 Pesticides are harmful. We instinctively know this. A pesticide kills bugs, so why would we want to eat it? 5 Cooperation is better than corporation. It works for Outpost, of course, but consider others. Think about the recession. Think about the banks. Then think about the credit unions. The credit unions fared better because of their cooperative, less risky business model. 6 Knowing where your food comes from makes sense. “Know your farmer, know your food,”. Whether it was a slogan on a sandwich board in 1973 or a clever piece of copywriting out of Washington , the fact remains that consumers are less likely to suffer from food-borne illnesses if they know where their food comes from. This isn’t just about touchy-feely community relations. Recall the October New York Times article exposing how ground beef products can be made up of different cuts of meat from different slaughterhouses — impossible to trace. The reporter told the story of dance instructor Stephanie Smith, whose E.coli-tainted hamburger meat put her in a coma for nine weeks. How can we keep food safe when we don’t know where it came from? We can’t. 7 Herbs are nature’s pharmacy. If a natural remedy can cure what ails you, why use anything else? 8 Logo t-shirts are cool. Just ask Alterra or Milwaukee’s Teecycle Tim, who runs a business selling vintage logo shirts. 9 So are Red Wing boots with vibram soles. It’s how you wear ‘em. 10 Freedom. People everywhere just want to be free. 11 Yoga. People everywhere just want to be flexible, strong, calm and pretty. 12 Composting. Even hip NYC urbanites are composting in their teeny kitchens these days. And the mayor of San Francisco made it a rule. If you don’t compost your food scraps, they smack your legs. Of course, San Francisco officials are now coming under attack for supplying residents with toxic composting material, so I guess they’re the ones getting their legs smacked. Lesson learned: It pays to research your compost. 13 Fair trade. It’s only fair. 14 Collecting rainwater. While this is outlawed in some western states, this makes common sense here. Protect that lake, people! 15 Growing our own food. There’s an amazing amount of satisfaction to be gained from eating food you grew out of your own spot of earth. 16 Meditation. This is going to keep on growing in popularity. We are information-saturated; imagine being able to empty your mind! 17 Joplin,Hendrix, Dylan the Stones and the Beatles. Love them or not, there’s no denying the influence. 18 Community works. Small-based businesses coming together as a community have pooled their talents and resources to promote themselves, each other, the city and the shop local ethos.
(also known as flowerchildren, idealistic, new age thinkers)
were the inspiration for green living, dome homes, natural homes that were made for Eco living to ‘conserve’, water, add natural light sources, and run on it’s own power from solar/sun, sources. (Which are being bulit in todays world).. Bottom photo is:
The aerodynamic forms resist hurricanes and the structures pass California’s earthquake codes. They are flood and fire resistant as well. A double eco-dome can be built (bagged) in 10 weeks!)
Not all hippies were like this, but the ones who taught their children the importance of our earth, ecology, living off the land’ and respect for others regardless of culture differences… are also the ones continuing this today that has ‘made a difference, in the world’.
Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader Rating: Teen Genre: Fantasy, a little angst a little fluff, & non-graphic/brief smut Word count: 2,201
Summary: It had been two years of a secret relationship that only the old oak tree and the babbling creek knew about.
A/N: Hello friends! First of all, this edit of Hoseok took me FOREVER and it was such a pain and Tumblr’s low quality ass does not do it justice. Anyways, here’s a little something I wrote up after I stumbled across a two hour long fantasy mix on Youtube. I hope you all enjoy it! And please ignore any editing mistakes - it’s 6am here and I have yet to sleep but I really wanted to get something posted for all of you.
The rough bark scrapes against the palm of your hands as you hoist yourself up onto the bough of the old oak tree. You make not a single sound, even going as far as to hold your breath as you creep along the length of it with light steps.
He’s seated towards the end, legs crossed and chin lifted to the sky. Although his back faces you, there’s not a doubt in your mind that he looks positively ethereal under the glow of the moon.
“If you think you have succeeded in sneaking up on me, then think again, Y/N,” Hoseok laughs airily but does not turn to look at you.
You curse under your breath. Hoseok, although pointed ears small in size, had the keenest hearing out of all the elves you’d ever met. For you, his sensitivity to sound was less outstanding and more annoying than anything for out of all your many attempts, not once had you ever succeeded in sneaking up on the man. You just wanted to frighten him, cause a little (or big) yelp and a quickened heart rate in return for always doing it to you. Perhaps one day you’d get your revenge.
You settle yourself at his side, the tree branch wide enough to fit the two of you, bumping your knee into his own to gain his attention though he does not give it. Hoseok was not one to be drawn out of his thoughts so easily (or willingly for that matter) and you knew this well, yet it never stopped you from trying. You press your elbow into your thigh and cradle your chin in your hand with a light huff.
You had been right; he does look brilliant under the moonlight with his eyes closed, lips parted just a sliver so he can taste the breeze that ruffles his hair. The flush of his cheeks informing you he has been out here for quite some time, though you knew this already – his mother sent you out to find him after he disappeared for nearly half the day.
“Hoseok,” You sigh, finally running out of patience.
“Your mother is requesting your presence.”
“Mm,” He weakly grunts with what sounds like a centuries worth of exhaustion. You peer up from where you pick at your boot lace only to be met with a gaze of aquamarine. The colour, so vivid and mesmerizing, was unlike any other Elven folk and strictly unique to those of the royal family.
“Everyone is waiting for your arrival. You should-“
“You’re hurt,” He interjects, long fingers delicately wrapping around your wrist to guide your scratched up palm through the air until it was in front of his face and being thoroughly inspected. “You need to be more careful, Y/N. How are you to wield a bow when your hands are injured?”
“I can still work a bow, Hoseok,” You snort. “I’ve shot an arrow between a man’s eyes in much worse condition. This is nothing.”
“Either way,” Hoseok carefully straightens your fingers. “This won’t do.” He ghosts his own fingers along the minor wounds, a pale green light glowing between the pads of them and your palm. The flesh tightens and tingles, pulling together as Hoseok uses his healing abilities until all that remains are a few dried flecks of blood.
“Thank you,” You nudge him in the side, earning yourself a scowl. “Now quit changing the subject. You’re being summoned and if you make your mother wait any longer she’s going to scold you until these cute little ears-” much to Hoseok’s dismay, you yank on the pointed tip, causing him to hiss in pain. “-fall right off. And what kind of Elven Prince would you be without your ears, huh?”
Hoseok rubs at the spot where you tugged to soothe the dull ache. “She can scold me all she wants. I refuse to return so long as that wretched Princess still remains within the walls.”
“That wretched Princess is your betrothed, Hoseok, and she has been since before you were born. Like it or not, you are to marry her the day after tomorrow.” The steady rhythm of your voice falters on the last word and you hope with all your might that Hoseok does not notice.
But he does notice and an irritating lump forms in his throat, one which he’s quick to swallow down.
“That may be so, but that does not change the fact that she has the temper of a goblin.” Hoseok lets the wind carry off his defeated sigh. “I never asked for this. It’s not what I want.”
“I know, Hobi. I know.” The nickname has his gaze tearing away from the murmuring creek, eyes softening when they meet your own. You reach up and brush your thumb along the apple of his cheek, a small but sad smile pulling at the corners of your lips that result in his heart panging uncomfortably.
“You. You are the one my heart belongs to. Not her, nor anyone else. Only you, Y/N, and I want nothing more than you to be the one I am betrothed to. But-“ His voice wavers.
“But you are the Prince of Valhaira and as the Prince you must marry a Princess, not the daughter of the Elven army’s General,” You finish for him.
Hoseok purses his lips and stiffly nods. He want’s nothing more than for those words to be a lie. Nothing hurts him more than to see the way the light in your eye dulls when your tongue tastes such foul words. When the depressing reality that you can never have all of him plagues your mind to the point where at times you can’t bear to look at him, fearing he will find out about the deep rooted sadness in your heart. A sadness you have kept guarded – hidden behind many walls made up of faux strength and bravery – yet he’s no fool. You’re not much of an actress and Hoseok has always been perfectly attuned to your heart. But what really gets him, what really breaks his own heart, is the fact that it’s all his fault.
It was selfish and unfair of him to have approached you nearly two summers ago.
He had watched you from afar; bow in hand, arm pulled back, the telltale whistle of an arrow flying through the air, causing his ears to twitch before it punctured through burlap and straw - piercing the what-would-be-heart of a heartless victim, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of your lips. He knew who you were, had seen you before, but never really saw you until an arrow whizzed past his face – mere centimetres away from nicking the end of his nose – and stumbled back in alarm. You had only laughed, shrugged your shoulders and told him ‘It’s rude to stare’ when he had turned to glower at you.
‘Show me how to do that!’ He had blurted in response, shocking not only himself but you as well. You had expected him to yell and punish you accordingly, not ramble on about how he wanted to learn how to wield not only a sword but also a bow. He had no idea what had come over him. Perhaps it was your smile but in that moment he knew he had to know you and to his delight, you agreed to his request.
Afternoons of training with a bow (and endless teasing from you) slowly stretched into evenings of quiet laughter and shared stories. When the sun would begin to set you would stretch your arms to the sky and whine when the hunger made itself apparent. A daily routine he had grown accustomed to, and when the odd occasion arose where one or both of you were too busy to meet, he would feel the ache of loneliness and yearning, wanting nothing more than to see your smiling face.
On one particular evening, after the sun had fallen behind the mountain and the only people left in the training grounds were the both of you, he had grabbed you by the hand to halt your departure. You did not speak – nor did he – as he drew you in to press a soft but nervous kiss to your lips. He brought shaking hands to your cheeks, felt the heat of your blush against his thumbs as fulfilment washed over him. You did not pull away like he had feared but pressed yourself closer until you were flush against his chest, the racing of your heart dancing in time with his own.
One kiss led to many, all shared seated on a log under a blanket of stars until desire began to outweigh reason and neither of you could ignore the need for one another any longer. Hoseok guided you to the old oak tree a fair distance into the woods, sharing with you his favourite spot to visit when something troubled his mind, before lying you down in blades of grass and soft moss. He whispered sweetly your neck as he stripped your bare, pressed lips to untouched expanses of your chilled skin, only to warm it with the press of his own naked body. Hoseok made love to you under a dome of green and although you could not see the twinkle of the stars, you had seen your own version the colour of aquamarine behind tightly squeezed eyelids as you quivered and quaked beneath him.
When strength returned to your legs, both you and Hoseok ventured the short distance to the creek to dip your toes in the cool water. The mischievous side of you had shoved him forward and you howled with laughter when he lifted his soaked head to give you an exasperated look, reminding you of a wet fox and before you could even think of saving your hide, Hoseok clambered forward, latched onto your waist and dragged you in with him. You had screeched when your body slapped against what felt like ice, splashing Hoseok when he cackled from the taste of sweet revenge.
He held you close and you wrapped tired thighs around his hips as he slipped his tongue between your lips and suddenly the cold was no longer noticeable. He moved down to mouth a proposition of round two against the base of your throat, licking at the colourful petal he left behind as you answered him with the roll of your hips that drew a sharp breath from his lungs. The two of you did not return home until the sun began to rise, parting with a kiss on legs made of gelatine before you hurried off down the path, throwing a tired wave behind yourself at Hoseok who always watched you go with a goofy grin.
It has been two years of a secret relationship that only the old oak tree and the babbling creek knew about.
“We need to go now, Hoseok. They’ve probably already sent the guards out to look for us.” He’s whisked away from his memories by the sound of your voice and does not object, just gives a tentative nod before following your lead and scaling down the trunk of the tree with nimble movements.
Once his feet touch the ground, Hoseok grabs hold of your elbow and he pulls you back until you’re stumbling right into his embrace where desperate, quivering lips press into your own. The kiss is gentle yet there’s an urgency about it – as if he will never get to do it again. And he won’t. That realization alone is enough for the tears to prick his eyes, swiping his tongue along your lower lip until you grant him the access he desperately seeks. The kiss turns salty as tears mingle with tongues and he’s drawing you in so tightly you wonder if it’s possible to fuse together.
But no, it is not possible, and you both quickly and reluctantly break apart at the sound of rustling brush and the holler of the Hoseok’s name. Hoseok wipes at his damp cheeks, then your own (you hadn’t even noticed you’d been crying) until the beautiful colour of aquamarine is all you see and you beg the heavens for a miracle that would make him eternally yours, but the heavens owe you no favours for you have done nothing to earn one.
“I love you,” He confesses.
“I will always love you more,” You choke out in response, and then his hand slips away from where it had found purchase on your waist; the loss of contact sending a tremble up your spine where it almost spills out in a garbled plea of ‘Please don’t marry her!’ but you are all to quick to snap your jaw shut, nearly biting off your tongue in the process as three guards emerge from the right with a respectful bow to their Prince.
When you return to the castle grounds, Hoseok is ushered inside without so much as a goodbye, forced apart from you to finally greet his family and bride-to-be, while you’re left standing in the dark.
For the first time in two years, he is not there to see you off.
….If you already know what your astral looks like do some maintenance or redesigning in it.
Since I already have an astral space and know what it looks like I decided to add some more things to it! My astral home looks like a large golden fancy modern log cabin on the outside with lots of windows. I added a door to the back that leads to a pathway. The pathway is decorated with flowers and plants of all kinds on either side. The one part of the path now leads to a rather large dome shaped green house. It’s 99% glass and the rest of it is metal work that is gold and green like strange vines creeping up it. Inside there are tons of different herbs and flowers growing. Along one part of the dome I included a work bench and shelves. On the shelves are tons of witchy tools and jars filled with herbs and flowers. The work bench is for where I can work on spells I cast in the astral. Basically I created my optimal witchy aesthetic and I love it!
I did other maintenance too such as making a huge lake and building a “hermit cabin” further in the woods of my astral. Though the best part is certainly my witchy greenhouse!