Yo could you share some of your headcanons for the deh kiddos :O ?! I'm really curious!!
*cracks knuckles* HEADCANONS UNDER THE CUT (these are generally feel-good and going off of a Connor Lived And Everything Gets Better AU set of ten [+ one extra] headcanons for the kids where they’re all friends)
my brother, sister, mom and i all have synesthesia and i was talking to them about just hold on and out of curiosity i was just like ‘so what color is just hold on to you guys?’ my mom and brother said yellow, my sister said blue (it’s blue to me as well), and then i was like 'ok but what color is louis tomlinson’s voice?’ and my sister and mom both said his voice sounds blue and green and i know that’s totally irrelevant but it warmed my cold dead larrie heart
Anonymous said:Can I have a reaction where Bts are your best friends and walk in on you/ see you naked and they hint about taken things further? I love your blog by the way and I’m happy your back
A/N: Awwwh, thank you! I hope this is okay.
Namjoon didn’t think to knock before entering your room but he soon regretted it. He froze on the spot, staring at you as you let your towel fall from your body to change. When you looked up and noticed Namjoon, you were quick to grab your towel again, wrapping it around you as best you could.
“Namjoon, don’t you ever knock?” you practically yelled.
Namjoon’s shocked expression soon turned into a smirk as he shut the door behind him and made his way over to you. “You know Y/N, I’m starting to think you left that open on purpose”
“And if I did?” you replied, your cheeks flushing red.
His hands took hold of the towel, slowly pulling it off your body “Then I think I need to teach you a lesson”
I am a cold love
I kiss the way you like it
but I never close my eyes
when you put your hands around my waist
I’ll tell you how much I need you
when you’re too tired to remember
how warm the words feel when they hit you
I’ll wrap my arms around you at night
but you’ll wake up alone in the morning
So you call me cold hearted
but I can’t wake up next to you
and memorize your smile
or the way your hand feels against my cheek when it’s only you, me, and the sunrise
You’re fleeting and you know it
Don’t fool yourself into believing we’re more than one snapshot in a set of millions
I’m always going to leave you in the morning
one day you’ll thank me for it
Could you pls fix the Supercorp couch scene? - Kara said she would always be Lena's friend but then couldnt help kiss her and supercorp ensues
“I will always protect you. I promise.”
because she doesn’t trust her voice above a whisper, and she’s
whispering because she’s seen this look on her sister’s face.
Alex’s face after she beats someone half to death and she drinks herself
into a stupor because she’s washed all the blood off her hands but she
can still feel it there, because she knows that she is unforgivable, and
she knows that she is not the person she’d wanted to be. She’s the
soldier she was trained to be.
She whispers because Lena is ready
to run, to retreat, to relive her worst memories, to give in to exactly
what everyone expects her to be.
She whispers because Lena will scare easily, right now.
And she hates herself for it, but a part of her likes it. The closeness. The whispering.
Because it’s intimate, it’s sensuous, it’s warm and it’s perfection, even as it’s agony.
She whispers, but she knows that even if she yelled it, Lena wouldn’t believe her.
her hand is still on Kara’s, draped around her shoulder, but her eyes
are frozen, her eyes are crystals waiting to break. Her eyes are her
soul, waiting to feel the shards shattering, penetrating her skin and
making her as cold as her mother always wanted her to be, always tried
to carve her into.
“You’re too good to protect me, Kara,” Lena
whispers after so long that Kara almost forget that speaking was a form
“No one can ever be too good to protect you,
Lena,” she whispers back, turning her face slightly, her heart pounding
strangely, leaning her lips forward and pressing them to Lena’s temple
gently, firmly, lovingly.
Lena freezes, but only for a moment, and then she lets her body lean into Kara’s embrace, into her chaste kiss.
just told you that the only thing making me warm right now is the
thought of a woman dying in prison, Kara. And you want to protect me? Be
She says the word with a kind of bitterness that
Kara doesn’t want to let herself understand, just like she’s been trying
not to let herself understand her defensiveness about Jack from the
start, from the moment Lena said they were exes.
“Lena, you’re in
shock. You’re in shock and she took away… she took away the love of
your life.” Her voice is small and her voice is defeated, and Lena turns
her face to look at her, and they both gasp slightly when they realize
how close their faces are, how close to each other their lips are. That
they’re breathing each other’s breath.
“Jack is…” Lena flinches.
“He was… a lot of things. Certainly I loved him, and certainly seeing
him again was… emotional. But I’m not… surely we don’t only have
just one love in our lives, Kara.”
Her voice is soft, and it’s
rich, and it’s a few octaves lower than it usually is, and her eyes
flicker down to Kara’s lips, so close to hers, but so quickly that
Kara’s sure she imagined it.
“Well, I wouldn’t know about that. I
don’t… I think I’ve only ever loved one person… that way… and it
didn’t work, and I… I mean, I can’t imagine anyone wanting to… I’m
“Oh, Kara Danvers, you are so much more than that.”
stomach lurches and she thinks of all the reasons she’s definitely from
this planet, certainly not an alien, definitely grew up here, this
planet, Earth, Earth, Earth.
“You’re brave and you’re kind and
you’re relentless in your pursuit of justice – but real justice, not
some half-baked system that locks up all the wrong people for all the
wrong reasons. You… Kara, you…”
She won’t say that Kara is the
only person who’s ever really seen her; that Kara wouldn’t have made
her choose between her and her career, her life, her own name; that Kara
was everything, before Jack came to town, and is still everything, even
in the midst of Lena’s… grief.
She won’t say it, but she’ll show it.
leans forward slowly, slowly, slowly, and she pauses only when Kara’s
breath hitches, when her own breath stops, when she can feel Kara’s lips
like electricity just a hair’s width from hers.
She pauses, and she waits, because maybe she’s stupid, and maybe she’s wrong.
“Lena, would you like it if I kissed you?”
She’s not wrong.
smiles when she didn’t think smiling was possible, and Kara interprets
her response perfectly, and her lips are soft and her lips are warm and
her lips are promise and her lips are faith and her lips are hope, hope,
But all too soon, she’s pulling away, and the gaping hole inside Lena grows ever wider.
“What – ”
want to kiss you, Lena. More, I mean. But not… you’re grieving, and I
can’t… we can’t… I won’t take advantage of you, Lena. So I’m going
to sit here, and I’m going to hold you. And when you’re ready to eat,
I’m going to take you to that new Thai place if you want to go, or we
can go back to my apartment and order it in. I’m going to be your
friend. Until you’re ready to figure out whatever… whatever that
amazing kiss meant to us. For us. If you want there to be an us.”
“Do you, Kara? Want there to be an us?”
adjusts her glasses and Lena smiles at the familiar gesture. “I’m not
going to answer that until you’re feeling… better. Alright? Does that
sound okay? All that?”
Lena stares at her because Lena is used to
things moving quickly, and Lena is used to wild and thrashing sex and
Lena is used to emotions spilling over regardless of the consequences.
She isn’t used to someone protecting her heart. Not like this.
that might just be the thing that thaws her enough to keep her Lena,
not Lilian, when she starts to feel things more fully again.
“Yes. Yes, that all sounds more than okay, Kara. Thank you.”
a couple little things that pop up whenever i think about simon and jace and kissing:
mostly they kiss with their mouths closed because simon’s highkey nervous of accidentally hurting jace. simon’s characteristically considerate, careful, but it’s so easy to lose himself in jace that it happens, sometimes, and simon always moves away with a worried, “sorry, sorry! are you okay? oh God,” the second jace gasps from somewhere deep in his lungs. even though jace always tries to pull him back with, “no, fuck, get back here,” it takes an embarrassingly long time for simon to catch on to the fact that jace’s gasps are accompanied by his toes curling and his fingernails scratching at simon’s back and jace is into it, the thrill of running his tongue along the edges of simon’s fangs and getting to that trace of venom that always lingers.
simon kisses jace’s runes every chance he gets and asks, “and what does this one do?” jace maybe answered truthfully once, the very first time, but now he lies every time because it makes simon’s dimples deepen into a smile when jace says ridiculous things like, “this makes me fly,” and, “this one lets me read your mind.” simon laughs and says, “what am i thinking right now, then?” and jace, of course, quips an awful line like, “obviously how much you want me,” and simon presses his mouth to the rune (it’s actually the one for speed) and says, “nuh-uh, try again with something that isn’t always true.”
jace does get this overwhelming need to kiss simon when he’s rambling but it’s not to get him to be quiet - it’s because when simon’s going off about something his eyes are bright and his smile is wide and it hits jace one day that simon talks so much around him because he just wants jace to know what’s going through his mind and when affection overtakes your heart the way it does with jace when he hears simon talk so freely the only thing you can do is kiss them, to abate that pressure in your chest just a little. “are you trying to shut me up?” asks simon, and jace just kisses the frown on his face one more time. “as if i ever could,” he says, shaking his head, “what happened next?”
Yaaaaaaaaassssss *Edit* I went a little overboard on this one, but I think its
A few months seemed to pass in the blink of
an eye. Adam seemed so different from the version of him you had first met. The
servants all agreed: everything had changed that night you brought him home. He
was softer, warmer, he smiled more. Some of them swore they had even heard him
Maybe there was something there that wasn’t
They knew that whatever that something was,
it was something you had brought back in him. Every day, Adam was more like the
young prince the castle’s staff had grown so fond of and less like the dark
prince his father had twisted him up to be.
Recently, he had shown you his spectacular
library, and now the two of you spent the majority of your long days reading
together. And because it was always winter here, you tended to get quite cold,
even with the fireplaces and blankets that were so abundant in the castle.
Nothing seemed to help shield you from the chills.
Nothing except Adam.
You had found that if you sat close enough
to him on the couch, his warmth seemed to chase away the cold. Most days you
would sit with your body touching his. You thought you were subtle about it,
but he noticed that your shivers seemed to disappear when he was near.
And so, he decided to work up the courage
to address it.
“Yes?” You asked, sliding a bookmark into
the large leather-bound book in your hands.
“I heard from Mrs. Potts that you get quite
cold at night.” You looked up at him, but he looked away as soon as you met his
“Yeah.” You nodded. “A little.”
“And I’m always quite warm at night, what
with all of this…fur.” he motioned to himself. “So if you’d like to…”
“Thank you.” You gave a grateful smile and
scooted a little closer to him on the couch in the library. After reopening
your book, you rested your head on his shoulder, and Adam swore his heart
skipped a beat.
“H-hello?” you knocked on the door to
Adam’s chambers later that night wearing a white nightgown and some slippers.
The door swung open, and there he was,
wearing a nervous sort of grin. You could see the secret fear hidden in his
eyes, but you didn’t know why. The staff did, though. They were all hoping, praying that
tonight would be their last night as knickknacks.
“Come on in.” he motioned for you to come
inside and then led you over to the bed, where he had pulled back the blankets.
He climbed in before you, heart racing as he waited for you to slip beneath the
covers. After a long beat of silence, he spoke. “I suppose it’s foolish.”
“For a creature like me to try to win your
affections.” His eyes were sad. You reached up and stroked the fur of his jaw.
“I don’t think so.”
“Mmhmm.” You stretched and yawned. “I
dunno, Adam. I’m pretty fond of you.” He laid back against his mountain of
pillows. Tentatively, you crawled on top of him, letting him embrace you in his
large arms. You exhaled a deep sigh. “Ohhhhh,”
“You’re so warm…”
“One of the few advantages of this form.”
He chuckled. “I’ve never been cold in the time I’ve been this…”
“Can we make this a recurring thing?” You
mumbled. The lamps seemed to turn themselves off. “Please? God, you’re warm.”
“I think that could be arranged.” Adam
feared his heart might leap out of his chest. You were here. You were curled up
in his arms, and you seemed to be more than content. He closed his eyes, and
took a breath.
You were slipping away, deep into sleep.
What you said next was so quiet, he barely heard it before falling asleep
“I love you.”
Sunlight streamed through the window early
the next morning, and when you opened your eyes, you remembered that you
weren’t in your room. You were in Adam’s. But something was different.
“Aah!” You bolted upright at the sight of a
stranger in Adam’s bed. He blinked a few times. Your alarmed yell had dragged
him out of his slumber.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked. It
was then that he took a moment. His voice sounded…different. Higher than usual.
And his paws weren’t paws at
all. They were hands. He reached up to touch his face, and instead of fur, he
came in contact with skin. You had done it. You’d freed him.
“How did you get in here? W–who are you?!”
“It’s me!” He shouted. His expression
softened and he reached out for your hand. “It’s Adam.”
“Adam…” Your voice was quiet.
“You broke the spell.” In his eyes, you
could see him. They were the same even though everything else had changed.
“You…you love me.”
“I do.” You nodded. He cupped your face
with gentle hands, relishing in the feeling of his skin against yours. You were
so soft. And he soon discovered that your lips were equally as pleasant.
After a long day of jubilant celebration
and more hugs than you could count, you soon found yourself standing outside
Adam’s chambers. They were brighter now. The things he had destroyed in his
beastly anger had been miraculously repaired, along with the rest of the
castle. The servants were free too. They had returned to their human forms the
previous night and had had their celebrations, but had decided not to wake you
or Adam, as you were peacefully tangled in your slumber.
There had been a magnificent ball. The
people of the village had finally remembered everyone here. The curse was gone,
and so was the endless winter, instead replaced with a beautiful spring.
You knocked on the door, and almost
immediately, it swung open, revealing your fiancé who was smiling brighter than
you had ever seen. He picked you up and twirled you around, causing you to
laugh and smile. As soon as he had you back on your feet, he pressed several
kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and then finally your lips, relishing in their
“Well you certainly are excited, Adam. It’s
“You are the best thing that’s ever
happened to me, of course I’m excited to see you!” His arms were snug around
your waist, and he pulled you to him, holding you against his chest. You rested
your head in the crook of his neck. His voice was no more than a soft whisper
in your ear. “I love you more than you could ever understand.”
“And I love you more abundantly than the
stars in the sky.” You replied, hugging him tight. He sighed a warm breath. If
Adam had his wishes, he would never let you go, but your proclamation of love
was followed very quickly with a yawn. He didn’t blame you for being tired. It
had been a long day for the both of you.
“Are you tired, love?”
“A bit.” You admitted. He pulled away to
look at you. His hands cupped your face, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks.
“Let’s go to bed, then.” He suggested. You
nodded and followed him over. Once the two of you had gotten settled, you took
a deep breath as you listened to his heartbeat. Adam’s soft lips pressed
against your forehead and his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. It
had been only last night that the two of you had been in the same position.
Except, he had been much larger and covered in fur. He chuckled a little at the
thought. It seemed so far away. That entire chunk of his life was beginning to
feel far off, when really it had only been yesterday.
“Hmm?” You asked.
“Do you mind it?”
“That I’m…different now?”
“You’re still the man I fell in love with.
With or without all the fur.” You replied. “And you’re still very warm.” He chuckled.
“Well good.” He kissed your forehead again.
“How would you feel about growing a beard?”
you asked teasingly. He let out a playful little growl, causing your heart to
race in exhilaration.
The trouble with approaching your relationship the same way you approached your at-times contentious friendship is that apparently, no one realizes you’re actually dating. Or else Enjolras and Grantaire just have the absolute most oblivious of friends.
I’m so used to the “everyone except Enjolras and Grantaire knows they like each other” trope, so this one was really fun to read!
Grantaire really doesn’t expect Enjolras to force him to move in with him when he hears how shitty Grantaire’s apartment is. And he definitely doesn’t expect Enjolras to want him to stay, or how easy it turns out to be, or the way Enjolras has a habit of doing his studying in the sunshine on the living room floor …
Yeah, he may be in some trouble.
Everything. Everything about this. SO GOOD (ps there’s some smut at the very end, just in case you’re not into that)
In which Grantaire and Enjolras take a very long time to actually say those three special words, but if you pay attention, the words are there.
Love love love love love. I felt super content (in an “I’m wrapped up in a warm blanket sitting in front of a fire on a cold winter’s day” way) after reading this and honestly that’s one of the best feelings to have after reading a fic (for me personally)
In the almost four years that Enjolras had known his friends, he always managed to avoid ice skating with them. This was very purposeful. It had to be. After all, they lived in the Northeast, so plenty of opportunities arose for him to go ice skating. He just never took advantage of them. Because Enjolras had a secret. A dark, terrible secret.
Given how nosy and internet savvy his friends were, it was kind of a miracle that only Combeferre and Courfeyrac knew about his past.
But it was time.
(Or the Amis go ice-skating and find out a surprising truth about Enjolras.)
Ok I had to include this one on here too because when I was rereading it just now, it kinda reminded me of Yuri on Ice and that made me happy sooo :)
i. i love the way you say my name. it’s soft and sweet and feels like a song, accented and melodic and wonderful, feels like if i close my eyes it might last forever, feels a bit like staring at the sun too long – it makes everything bright and warm, makes me curl my toes underneath the sheets and shove my face into my pillow because the smile spreading across my face is too wide to bear.
ii. i think you laugh in flowers. i tell a joke and it feels like spring, feels like stepping into a warm patch of sunlight after a cold winter, feels like i might never be this happy again. don’t even get me started on how much i love it when you make yourself laugh.
iii. the softest messages to receive are “good morning"s sent at 2 am. the hardest ones are “i’m going to bed now” sent at 5 pm. everything in between feels like floating
iv. i see a kindness in you that is unmatched. you are so strong and so resilient and yet so gentle, so willing to put others before yourself. you are the light
v. i love all of our future plans – when the world grows a bit too heavy i think about the days i will spend drifting in and out of sleep with you, mornings spent getting coffee in cafés, days spent sitting by the ocean, painting together, making dinner together, holding hands and train tickets and trips to the planetarium to look at the stars
vi. sometimes you make me feel so full and warm i don’t know what to do with myself.
vii. i tell you i love you every single day and every single day i mean it more
Great. I was already late for the first day of school. I didn’t really care about the tardy, but my first period was creative writing, the only class I was actually excited for. I wanted to miss as little as possible.
I rushed down the hall, eyes searching for room 1208. Once I found it, I stopped, straightened my bag, and opened the door.
Every face turned towards me as I walked into the room. Mrs. Holt turned away from what she was writing on the board to give me a stern look. “And why are we late, Mr….?”
“Jughead Jones. And, uh, my alarm didn’t go off this morning.”
She glared at me over the edge of her glasses before gesturing to the only open seat in the back of the room. “Take a seat, Mr. Jones. And don’t be late again.”
As I walked towards my new seat, my eyes rested on the girl in the next desk over. She was too absorbed by whatever she was reading to even glance up at me as I sat down.
Not long after I had gotten settled in, Mrs. Holt had given us an assignment. “To get to know your new classmates, I want each of you to partner up with the person next to you and write a detailed description of them. Today I want you to focus on their appearance and tomorrow we’ll work on describing personality traits.”
I sighed. I didn’t really want to have to talk to more of the people in this school than I had to. Of course Mrs. Holt had to ruin this class for me.
I turned towards the girl next to me. She hadn’t looked up from her book all period. I cleared my throat to get her attention. She sighed, closing her book and looking up at me.
As she looked into my eyes, my breath caught in my throat, causing me to cough. She was so much prettier than she seemed at first. I definitely wouldn’t have a problem describing every detail of her face.
Wait. Was I actually excited? To stare at some girl whose name I didn’t even know?
“Yes?” She asked, seeming a bit impatient.
“Uh, we have to do the assignment…” I trailed off as I stared at the wall over her head. I didn’t want to creep her out by staring at her. I already knew it was going to be weird when we had to do this assignment.
“What is it?”
“We have to, um, describe each other’s appearances.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a notebook. She continued to rummage around in her bag as I took out my laptop and opened it.
“Uh, hey. Do you have a pencil I can borrow?” She asked, flashing an awkward smile. It was pretty cute.
"Cute”? Did I really think that was “cute”? I’ve never called a girl “cute” before. What was happening?
"Yeah.” I reached into my bag and grabbed a pencil. As I reached over to hand her the pencil, her fingers brushed gently across my hand. I could feel the warmth of her skin touching mine and as soon as her fingers were gone, the area she had touched turned cold. I retracted my hand quickly and began rubbing them together in hopes of warming up.
What was happening? All I had done was briefly touch the girl’s hand. Why did her touch warm my skin so much? I wanted to feel that warmth again. I wanted to hold her hand.
Wait what?? I’ve never been one for physical affection, but this girl was doing something weird to me.
"What?” My mind snapped out of its trance.
"I’m [Y/N]. You’re going to need my name for the writing assignment.” She laughed.
Oh. I shook my head, trying to clear it. Focus, Jughead. Focus on your assignment.
"Why don’t you turn your desk towards mine so it’s easier for us to look at each other?”
I did as she suggested and we both began to work in silence. I thought it would be awkward to have to stare at this girl and have her stare back at me, but every time she looked up at me, I felt my heart speed up.
Every once in a while our eyes would meet, and she would smile at me. I couldn’t help but smirk back.
I got so caught up in my staring and writing that I jumped when the bell rang.
[Y/N] was already standing and packing her bag to go. I couldn’t let her walk away without a plan to see her again.
“I didn’t finish my writing…” Was I supposed to ask her for a picture? No, that was creepy. “Can we meet up at Pop’s tonight around 6 so I can finish?” I asked cautiously. I didn’t want to come on too strong. I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to finish my writing or if I just wanted to see her again before tomorrow.
“Yeah, sure.” She smiled brightly. “See you then.” She waved as she slung her backpack on her shoulder and walked away.
I stayed in my seat, shocked by my actions. All of this was so uncharacteristic of me. Did I… like… a girl? I had so many unanswered questions.
Saudade; ↪ The feeling of intense longing for a person or place you love but is now lost
The sky was a painting tonight.
You marveled at the beautiful twilight hues. Shades of violet bled into the indigo sky, creating bridges of colours you could only describe with the paintbrush in your hand, and the canvas in front of you. You mixed and created shades of pink, purple and blue you could not name. You paid no attention to that, art did not need a language; it was the expression of what words fail to communicate.
Art is an entity of its own.
Many described you as wild – you were as wild as the winds that blew the curled red leaf in the air.
You watched the sun in front of you dip below the horizon like a candle being extinguished. You dipped your own brush into the paint and brushed it across the canvas, now adding the finishing strokes of cerise and amber.
You gave your painting a final look before setting down your paintbrush.
You huffed. In front of you was no match to what you saw a few minutes ago. You could never paint the splashes of colours you formed in the sky. The true and raw beauty of the sunset could never be captured. That is by you – a self-proclaimed artist.
It was rumoured that everyone has a different sky that is shared with their soulmate – except all celestial objects stay in the same position for everybody, so weather is not affected. Everyone has the ability to draw on the sky, making splash of colours or little notes for only them and their soulmate to see.
You shivered from the chilly winds as they ran across your skin. It was exhilarating as it was terrifying. You were currently situated at the rooftop of your art institution. Every evening, you came here and tried to create a somewhat decent painting of the evening sky. And every evening, you failed.
You mastered the skill of painting fruit baskets and fields of flowers. You could recreate the face of a person you had met for the first time with deadly precision. So why could you not paint something as simple as the sunset? Children could paint it. Hell, Kindergarteners could finger-paint the sunset, yet you couldn’t. Why?
Walking to the edge, you gripped the thin metal railing. It always amazed you at how fast the night changes. Now, as you looked at the early night sky, all traces of the colours had bled into one – a magnificent shade of midnight blue. The cold winds of nightfall pierced the thin layer of your shirt. You wrapped your hands around your body as you attempted to warm yourself. In vain, you rubbed your hands up and down each other until you felt a hint of warmth spread across your body.
The night held so many mysteries.
You turned around to wipe off the wet paint on your palette and you put it, along with your brush, into your bag. Slinging the back on your shoulder, you picked up your easel and walked to the room across from you. The room was small and mainly used for storage. Sometimes, you would find couples inside it. Those encounters never ended well.
You made a silent prayer in your head as you turned the brass door knob to the room. To your surprise, the light was already on. You could’ve sworn that you turned them off when you came to get the equipment. Hesitantly stepping inside, you put down the easel at the back of the room.
Whoosh, the door closed. The sound made you jump and you heard a deep chuckle come from beside you.
You let out a shriek as you made eye contact with none other than Jeon Jungkook.
“Jungkook!” you shoved the boy in front of you, “you scared the shit out of me.”
“Oh Y/N! Y-you s-should’ve seen y-your face,” Jungkook tried to imitate your reaction before he doubled over with laughter once again. “Oh man, y-you looked s-so terrified,” he spluttered.
You felt a smile of your own forming before you crossed your arms together and bit your lip. You tried your best to stay mad at him. You never could, but you tried. Every time.
Jungkook’s amber orbs blazed with the golden light of a summer evening. His eyes reminded you of a sunset – no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t manage to look away.
“Hello? Earth to Y/N,” Jungkook waved his hand in front of your face. You snapped out of your trance and shifted your gaze from his face to the ground.
“Hey, Y/N, are you okay? Did I go too far? Do you want to hit me? You can hit me, just don’t hit my face. It’s the only thing I have going for me,” he offered you a comforting smile.
His smile alone was enough to make you feel better.
You shook your head and opened your mouth to speak, “Jungkook, just… don’t scare me like that ever again.”
He nodded and moved across the room. You thought he was going to leave until he walked back to you with a brown bag in his hands. Instantly, the smell of Tteokbokki hit your nostrils and you felt your mouth water a little. You hadn’t eaten since lunch. You reached out to take the bag when it was pulled away from your grasp.
“Nuh uh,”Jungkook waggled his finger at you, “first, you have to show me your painting. You never show me your paintings of the sunset.”
“Um, no. There’s a reason why and that’s because they’re all trash. Absolute trash.”
“You’re being way too critical of yourself. Your paintings are never short of amazing.”
“But you haven’t seen these ones, that’s why you’re saying this.”
“Then show me,” Jungkook said.
You took a hold of both of his hands and looked up at him pleadingly
“Jungkook… please don’t make me.”
He huffed and looked away. You wondered what he was thinking about.
You heard the rustle of the paper bag as he handed it to you. “Thank you, kookie. I owe you one,” you said as you took a bite of the soft rice cake.
“Don’t thank me, I know you hadn’t had dinner so I brought you some food. It’s what friends are for,” he shrugged his shoulders as he reached for a rice cake.
You momentarily stopped chewing. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach drop in disappointment every time you heard that word.
The two of you walked out of the room and sat on the cold, concrete floor.
The night sky was a sharp contrast to the once melodic array of warm colours – it was now black as ink, the only light illuminating from the stars.
“Remember the Twinkie on the bus? The one I gave you in second grade?”
“The one you found on the floor and gave me without telling me? Nice.”
You grinned and gave him a rice cake. “It never really fell on the floor. I made that part up.”
You couldn’t see his face but you could tell that he was smiling.
“I-I think that I’m going to tell Hyojin that I love her,” he had mentioned out of the blue.
Your chest tightened, the same way it did when Jungkook first told you about his crush on your sister. You felt a tingling, itchy feeling clawing up your throat and stopping midway. It felt like a hairball that had been stuck, but you managed to swallow it down with some water. You sat still, vision blurring, and in that moment, you heard your heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower’s stem.
“Y/N, are you okay? You look like you’re –“
“I’m okay, Jungkook. I just choked a little on the rice cake when I tried to talk at the same time,” you lied, clutching the brown paper bag resting in your lap.
Jungkook raised an eyebrow but did not question further. “Well, what do you think I should do?”
“You should do what you feel is right.”
You couldn’t make out Jungkook’s face. You only saw the highlighted parts of his face as the moonlight shone down upon him.
“What do you think is right?”
“It doesn’t matt—“
“What do you think is right?”
You sighed, “you really love her, don’t you?”
“With all my heart.“
“Maybe”, you said gently, “you’re trying too hard to hear it. Don’t say it yet.”
Jungkook’s face fell faster than a corpse in cement boots. You saw his body go rigid, his mouth hung with lips slightly parted and his eyes were slightly widened at your statement. Slowly, the shock wore off of his face and was replaced with a gaze that felt like an act of violence – a glare to stop your heart. You heard him as he scoffed, “…unbelievable.”
You felt your temper rise at Jungkook’s audacity to scoff at you, “what? You asked for my opinion and so I gave you my opinion. Don’t roll your eyes at me.”
Jungkook laughed heartlessly, looking down at you as if you were a complete stranger. “I’m going to tell her,” he said with an air of finality and a tinge of annoyance directed towards you.
Instead of lowering your head you lifted it, a stony glare carved into your dark eyes. Anger blurred your sight but you tightened your jaw and glared at him, “and what am I supposed to do? Sit by while you date other girls and fall in love with someone else and get married?” Your voice tightened, “And meanwhile, I’ll die a little bit more every day, watching.”
Jungkook turned, but too slowly to be normal. When he spook his voice trailed slowly, like his words were unwilling to take flight. There was a sadness in his eyes, the brown too glossy, “Y/N, p-please, stop. Y-you’re just…jealous, just admit it,” you heard the slight hesitance in his words. “You know what, I’ll help you find someo—”
“Yes! I’ll admit, I am jealous. I’m jealous of every minute you spend with her, of every concerned expression you send her way, of every tear shed, of every glance, every touch, and every thought. I want to rip her to pieces and purge her from your mind and from your heart. But I can’t.” before you could register what was happening, your brain made a decision of its own.
“Y/N, please don’t—“
Words flew from your mouth that you never thought you’d even think, let alone say out loud. You knew instantly from the look in his eyes that they’d hit their mark. In that instant, your relationship shattered into glassy shards. Nothing would ever be the same again.
“I love you,” you blurted out. “I-I know you don’t love me, so don’t say it back.”
Jungkook shot up, his tall stature looming over your own. You stood up beside him, with your arms crossed and your eyes locked on him. It takes him a while to realize that you weren’t joking. You got up on your feet, standing a few inches away from him. "J-Jungkook?” you placed your hand on his arm in an effort to comfort him. Jungkook shoved your hand away.
“Don’t touch me.” Just a few words, but they brought tears to your eyes. You never thought this was how it would feel to have your heart broken.
“Jungkook, please. Don’t do this.” You pleaded him as you covered your face with your hands and wiping away your tears.
“Oh no! I’m not doing anything here. Itold you not to say it and yet you still said it.” Jungkook was now shouting at you.
“I’m sorry,” you sounded like you were choking on your tears. You never could keep your emotions under control; you couldn’t fight away the tears. You stepped forward, trying to reach out to him. Jungkook put his hands in front of him, halting you from taking another step.
“I said don’t touch me,” Jungkook’s voice cracked. Under the moonlight, you could see that his cheeks reflected your own tear-stained ones.
You didn’t try to get closer to him again. You sat down and tucked your knees to your chest, putting your elbows on your knees, and covered your face with your hands, then started to breathe slowly.
Silence gnawed at your insides. It hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground. You needed to fill the void with sounds, words, anything. The silence was poisonous in its nothingness, cruelly underscoring how vapid your conversation had become – it clung to you two like a poisonous cloud that at any moment could choke the life from them.
You couldn’t stand the deafening silence anymore. “Jungkook,” you whispered, not daring to look at the face in front of you. “I-I love you and I can’t stop loving you. You overtake my affections and leave my heart in shattered disarray of pieces. Every single time you steal a part of me, you make it impossible for me to put myself together. I know you can never love me and yet I always delude myself in the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, you’ll learn to love me back. Why is that? Perhaps I hope that you return what you’ve stolen. You never do. You smile, and it’s intoxicating. Your fingers brush through my hair, and it’s addicting. You laugh, and it’s contagious. You and your flirtatious self. But I know, and you know that you could never — wouldnever return the love I shared with you.”
“You love Hyojin,“ you continued for him. "I know. Y-you’re in love with…her,” the bitter taste of those words lingered on your tongue.
Your eyes met his warm brown ones. “Yes,” he whispered, his lower lip trembling. “It’s her. It’s always been her.”
Jungkook’s words fell out of his mouth like vapour but landed in your guts as shrapnel. You felt your insides tear, and the blood drain from your face. You would have laughed but he was dead serious. His eyes were cold like you’d never seen and his features immobile. He handed back the painting you gave him just yesterday and you let it fall as soon as its weight had hit your palm. There was the mute sound of paper on cement but neither of you moved to pick it up. You were trying to understand the words he told you but you couldn’t. Then he turned to go, shoulders sunken and his hands in his pockets. Before you knew what you were doing you were standing in his way and locked eyes, the perfect distance for a kiss, but he shook his head. You could see your pain mirrored in his dark eyes.
“I’m sorry that I love you, Jungkook,” you said through your tears.
“Y/N, please. Let me go.”
“I can’t – not like this. Let’s talk about this. Please.”
“There isn’t anything to talk about.”
Jungkook’s eyes were trained on some invisible specter behind you. His heavy eyelids took a fraction too slow to blink, his irises too stationary. It was as if his brain was suffering a massive short circuit and was struggling to compute. You moved into his line of sight, touching his cheek with the side of your thumb, your lips forming a pensive grin. Jungkook’s head tilted upward to your face, his eyes sliding into focus. Your voice came out in a breathy whisper, “can I just have one kiss?”
Jungkook made no motion to move and so, you leaned in. all of your senses were screaming at you to pull back, to step away from Jungkook – your sister’s boyfriend. And yet, you couldn’t. You knew he didn’t love him back, but you couldn’t resist. You leaned in a little closer, your foreheads touching. Dear god, you couldn’t fight against the thoughts that were going through you. His very smell was flooding his senses now.
“No!” he seemed to snap out from whatever trance he was previously in. “No, I thought you were my friend,” Jungkook yelled. He pulled himself away from you as if he touched a hot coal. Jungkook turned around and made a mad dash towards the exit.
“Wait! Jungkook,” you called after him. “Please,” you closed your eyes, pleading.
Loneliness is one of the key themes in Moomin books. Tove Jansson was very familiar with this experience. Her father had been emotionally damaged by the civil war when Tove was very young and because of this, she spent her entire childhood longing for his affection. In her adulthood Tove experienced another war and had to wait for her brother, lover and friends who were away fighting. All while her friends and family were also mourning and emotionally distant. After the war ended, Tove entered another relationship full of longing and waiting with Atos Wirtanen. Endless waiting only seemed to end when she met Tuulikki Pietilä, who was finally there when Tove needed her most.
Constant waiting is a lonely experience. But Tove was also aware of another kind of loneliness. This kind of loneliness is the kind we seek ourselves. Tove was a very private person even when she became famous and also a dedicated artist who needed peace to work. She spent years trying to find a place where she could isolate herself to work and enjoy her own company.
Loneliness appears as duality in Moomin books. The bad kind of loneliness is represented with various Fillyjonks and sometimes Moomintroll himself, especially when he longs for Snufkin. Fillyjonks are anxious and depressed people who often suffer from sudden feelings of doom. Their unstable minds and efforts to keep up respectable life often end up isolating them in large houses on the beach because their grandmother had supposedly lived there as a child or in neatly decorated parlors with only their own thoughts for company. Fillyjonks long to escape this loneliness. They will reach out for people but they often fail. It seems it’s impossible to be both polite and proper and speak up about your depression at the same time.
Moominvalley in November is a book where loneliness is the main theme. So it is no wonder that a Fillyjonk is among the main characters. This Fillyjonk is tired of being anxious and alone, so she comes to visit Moomin family in hopes of getting caught up in their spontaneous life. When Moomin family appears to be away, she tries to be spontaneous like Moominmamma herself and make people around her feel at home. She fails miserably, because a timid and orderly Fillyjonk cannot be Moominmamma. Her efforts isolate her further until she lets go and starts to be herself but with a happier attitude towards herself. In the end she manages to put together a work party and heads back home with more enthusiasm. She was able to overcome her loneliness when she accepted her limitations and embraced them and others.
Another lonely Fillyjonk appears in Tales from Moominvalley; Fillyjonk Who Believed in Disasters. This Fillyjonk ends up overcoming her loneliness without other people like the Fillyjonk mentioned above. Instead, she encounters the disaster she was afraid of and turns her loneliness from bad kind to the good kind. This good kind of loneliness means that you can be by yourself and it’s not scary or unpleasant. Snufkin basically lives for this kind of loneliness. He not only enjoys being by himself, he yearns for it and becomes anxious if he does not get to be alone. In a way, his good loneliness is the opposite from Fillyjonk’s bad loneliness. This good kind of loneliness nurtures and gives us strength to be social again. Though eventually even Snufkin realizes that maybe he did not really need to be so much alone, when he was always surrounder by people who understood him.
There is no way to talk about loneliness and healing without talking about the very personification of loneliness; The Groke. The Groke is so cold that everything she touches turns to ice. This isolates her from other people completely. So completely, that they would rather not even mention her name. Whenever she approached their light, they will turn it off and run away. She is almost defiant in her loneliness. “I’m the only Groke. There is no one like me and I will never warm up” she declares in Moominpappa and the Sea. She is bad loneliness given form. But eventually a single act of kindness, Moomintroll coming to see her on the beach, frees the Groke. Moomintroll’s company and caring drive away her loneliness and turn out to be the key to her freedom; The Groke becomes warm. Moomin books always show us characters either freeing themselves from bad loneliness or finding out that limitless amount of good loneliness is not actually a key to happiness.
The truest example of independent and good loneliness is actually Little My. She is capable of finding just the right balance between loneliness and sociality. She is with others when she feels like it and despite being sharp and brutally honest, she is willing to support and nurture them whenever they need it. But she is also capable of running away whenever she feels like it. Little My is free of sentimentality and will not miss people and company. She can enjoy both loneliness and company to equal measure, without ever getting bored or sad.
Bed time was perhaps one of our favourite times. A warm bed, a fluffy duvet, and Peter. Peter was always there to cuddle with. Except tonight you tried to keep a distance knowing the cold feeling in your feet would only make your boyfriend uncomfortable, instead you cuddled into your pillow.
“Why are you so far away?” It was groggy and sleep laden, a warm hand reaching out for your arm and trying to pull you closer to him.
“My feet are cold, Pete…you don’t want that.” You muffle it into your pillow shrugging away the hand and snuggling back down again, he’d thank you later, if he’d only let you sleep first.
“You can put your cold feet on me.”
“Come here.” You let yourself be rolled over towards him, your cold feet resting against his warm legs, arms wrapping around his waist, face nuzzling into his shirt.
“God, you feet are cold!” You feel him jump when your feet make contact with his skin and it makes you let out a muffled laugh, “I told you.”
Hi, I really like your prompt fills, they're amazing! I really love the prompt fill on zombies being representations of the seven deadly sins. I don't know if this is thinking too much into it but is/are there any specific person/people who specialise in dealing with packs of Envies? And who does repair work on the corral?
Okay, nearly every night. She thinks that most sane people would with people like Stella and the General in the camp. It’s not that she thinks they’d ever go after her (except for how she does). It’s just that she doesn’t have confidence they won’t get her the next time camp is attacked.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tia says when Numbers tells her this. She hands the girl a bag of food, that day’s rations. “They’ve been doing this way too long for that.”
Numbers doesn’t say anything. Two years ago, when this started, she’d thought people wouldn’t make mistake like that, wouldn’t hit a human instead of a zombie. In a way, she was right.
It wasn’t a mistake then and she doubts it would be one now.
“Thanks for the food,” she says, holding up the bag.
“No fire tonight,” Tia warns. “I don’t like how many Sloths have been around lately.”
Numbers casts an uneasy look at the horizon. Their camp is on a small hill which leads down to a flood plain. She can see the ruins of a city a mile or two away, but between here and there are too many holes, too much foliage, too much coverage for zombies.
“’Course,” Tia says, too nonchalant, “you could have a hot meal if you came to stay in the camp. Get to know everyone.”
Numbers is already shaking her head. She’s the newest member to the camp, the youngest to boot, and she likes the anonymity that gives her. She’s pretty sure Stella doesn’t even know her name.
Tia sighs, used to losing this particular battle. “Well, you know the knock. It baffles me that you’d feel more comfortable out here next to them though.”
Numbers looks where Tia gestures though she already knows what she’s pointing at. Numbers has just put a new batch of Envies in the corral and they’re getting to know the older ones, bumping into each other as they wander around aimlessly. Every now and then, they almost scent her and Tia and stop, those with noses letting their nostrils flare. Then they go right back to meandering, what’s left of their minds forgetting the distraction as soon as the wind snatches the scent away.
“Envies are predictable,” Numbers says because she likes Tia. She rustles in the bag of food, checking out her supplies. “People aren’t.”