jikook are married for sure, but what kind of engagement ring would Jimin like do you think? that sweetheart sure likes his rings
lol yeah and im still offended they haven’t invited me to their wedding but whatever….
he has passion for rings, right?? he’s always wearing them on his cute precious beautiful hands :3
I think something simple…. he does like wearing rings but if u take a close look they are simple silver rings with something embroidered on it, something little hanging from it…. they are simple, so i think he would love something like that.
maybe to make it different and stand out so everyone can ask about it, jungkook would choose a white gold ring? or tiny diamonds? so it doesn’t meddle with the others, ya bet extra jeon would like everyone to know park jimin is gonna marry him. Visual references:
Long story short, a new ring was damaged shortly after acquisition and I suspected the fixers of swapping stones when fixed. I had enough references to make the accusation that it wasn’t the same stone but I didn’t come out and say that when I went back later. Only that I was concerned that the fixing process may have damaged something else.
I was offered a trade for a new ring. I said I’d consider it and to call me when it arrived.
That was Saturday.
Sunday: The stone looked even more “wrong” and no amount of viewing in alterative environments could convince me otherwise.
Monday: When the light hits it just right, the stone gleams a certain way and I get the sensation I’m watching someone struggle to waken.
Tuesday: It looks wrong from one way but kinda looks right from the other way. It feels apologetic that it doesn’t feel right.
Wednesday: I recall some things I overheard in the store, prompting me to look up the industry procedure for repair. Turns out the stone is cleaned of everything organic, including human oils that would have transferred to the ring no matter how careful I was. This stripping is known to “dull” a stone compared to before the process. The stone feels like it’s trying very hard to be something I would want to keep.
Thursday: I realize I have an unconscious habit of rubbing my thumb over the smooth stone. I put the ring under water to see if the stone changes appearance. It nearly matches what I remember and the photos I’d taken before the incident.
Friday: The stone is trying very, very hard to make me happy. I try rubbing a wee bit of oil on the ring. It’s still not exactly what I remember but I concede that I may be remembering wrong in the first place. I decide to keep this ring, swap or not, and purchase the replacement if the quality was sufficient. The stone feels comfortable, as if I had a small pet snoozing in my pocket.
*ring ring* “The replacement ring is here! And it looks… Interesting.”
Friday evening: Under the lights of the store, I see the stone I’m wearing flashing almost exactly as it did the day I bought the ring. As no two natural opals are the same, the chances of a second stone doing this is very, very low. I compare it to the replacement ring.
It was like comparing a name brand with its knockoff.
“I thought it was the same but now that you’re here, they are nothing alike. Can’t even pretend they are.”
Maybe the stone was swapped. Maybe the stone was only stripped of filth. Either way, I make the decision not to purchase the replacement, nor to make a swap. This is my stone now, I will not abandon it.
I make other purchases instead and move on.
Friday night: My phone beeps and I reach for it. In the electric light, I notice the ring flashing a certain way.
It’s the pattern I have been absent of all week.
There is still a slight “off” to it, but in the way a broken bone doesn’t heal perfectly straight. The way it was damaged could have shattered the stone after all. But it has been cleaned of clinging organic films I had bestowed upon it and I have been purged of my snobbery and elitism of expecting absolute perfection in a natural thing.
As I go to get coffee for the drive home, the stone speaks loudly with hues of color and flashes of light, feeding my animism and chatting with anything that pauses to listen.
[[ I only add a fore-warning simply due to the dismal nature of this drabble, as it touches on Viktor’s depression. It’s nothing terribly serious, but if you don’t want a negative read, then perhaps skip this. ]]
of green and yellow sprinkled through the large window panes, casting colour
across the dismal and withdrawn, dark room. The hues drifted lazily over the
grey sheets and bed banisters, the old walnut dull and almost grey-scale save
for the sudden flashes of light coming from the lively city outside.
contrast to be seen; flashes of gold, greens and yellows cascading between fogs
and mists from the busy city state, painting their tinge across a grey, cold
room, giving a temporary pigment to the withdrawn space. It was beautiful in a
way, like a stain-glass window giving an eye onto a room made specifically to
bolster its beauty with its deliberately drab colours, but that was far from
Today I was teaching my campers how to start a fire with flint and steel. As they grew increasingly frustrated, I mentioned that in a real survival scenario, they might use other tools and flammable materials at their dispense, like a camera lens or isopropyl alcohol.
I turned around to help two kids arrange their tinder. “Hey Ship, watch this!” called a voice. I looked over my shoulder to witness my favorite student create a fucking flamethrower by igniting aerosol sunscreen.
When the screams of surprise stopped, I said, “Good job. Very resourceful. Now please don’t do that again.”