#Asian shards

[sydney-dexi]

Sydney weed Sydney telegram Sydney wickr

#dexies #sydney #weed #green #ice #shard #herbal tea #peppers #drugstore #asian food #melbourne #cairns #waggawagga #new south wales #victoria #tasmania #charlie spring #charlie dalton #cold hearted #oxytocin #oxy pills #oxycontin 80mg #geelong #maryland #liverpool #australia #ocean rtc

[goddessofthedawn]

honoring the pretension inherent in me by having a commonplace book but the first entry is lyrics from cobra starship's "prostitution is the world's oldest profession (and i, dear madam, am a professional)"

#just ramblings of aurora #read: i was an english major but there are several books on goodreads that only i and grady hendrix have read #him because he wrote paperbacks from hell #me because my taste is trash #i was ane nglish major but DID write an essay about 3oh3 for my college's lit journal #i was an english major but my favorite “literary” author is bret easton ellis #AND HE'S A FUCKING HORROR AUTHOR AND I WILL FIGHT YOU ON THAT #every agrees about american psycho but have you READ the shards??? #have you READ glamorama???? #do we forget what happened to that poor asian kid??? #in glamorama??? #less than zero's literary but like come ON #come ON remember GLAMORAMA or at least PRETEND YOU GOT THROUGH THE FIRST SIXYT PAGES OF NAMEDROPS

[wmelia]

I wasn’t too happy with this page bc it gives me nan vibes (dads side (blocked) vibes not granny (mums side) ) but in a bad way, mostly bc of the colour and texture of the background ://

However the page itself is a lovely one since it is one for my boyfriend and I’s first year anniversary :D all of the Polaroids are of this day at the Tate Modern, No.79 in Soho, where I had the yummiest soufflé pancakes and my partner had an ice cream shaped panda. Other Polaroids are at Hutong in the Shard.

Bits around the Polaroids are of moments in our relationship together: arcade dates, London Zoo, a note from my love notes bottle, an aquarium pressed coin, pressed flower petal from my valentines bouquet, a ferris wheel we were on together, and a train ticket of the day we went for a concert (thanks wargasm) and I asked him out!

#the next page will be better again #wmscrap #scrapbook #scrapbooking #junk journal #art #the shard #London #ldn #Southend #Tate modern #love #wargasm #London shard #Southend on sea #food #Asian cuisine

[martilyongabo]

the blade is your implement. you'll need it if you want to do this right. (04.17.2024-04.20.2024) [18hrs]

happy anniversary to FE13! i was drawn back to this game after getting into another, though completely different game, Slay the Princess. the conflict and shifting forms reminded me a lot of what had stuck out to me in FE13, so i decided to go back and play through it.

i also made a small doodle too of the vessels during the creation of this piece. you can find it below in the read more, as well as a small list of who's who :D

a last thank you to @anoldwishbone for helping me with the glass shards and effects!

from left to right: the beast (it/its), the damsel (she/he), the prisoner (she/her), the spectre (she/her) the witch (bottom, they/them), the tower (top, she/her), the razor (middle, he/him), the adversary (top, she/her), and the nightmare (middle, she/her).

tower, adversary, and nightmare's designs were pretty unclear to me even a day before the deadline, hence why they're pretty loose here.

i ended up giving the tower elice's clothes from fe11/fe12, and the adversary was given a mix of the dread fighter's outfits in fe13 and fe15. the nightmare's clothing is still a big WIP though, since fe13's story is still yikes. would still love to explore swana and central asian fashion for plegian characters.

#fire emblem #fire emblem awakening #fe13 #fe awakening #fea #gawang abo #ylisse #fe robin #fe chrom #slay the princess #stp #it's a little funny that tower and adversary's designs weren't designed even though i had the clearest idea of what their heads were to loo #idk they're both really handsome women ok </3 they deserve the best drip #it was also really fun to make up backstories on these vessels and the ways in which robin's mother #(or the grimleal) #could have raised them differently

[mrs-lockley]

Reach for the Moon | I. The Breaking

PAIRINGS: (Slow Burn, Romantic) Jake Lockley x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, (Platonic) Steven Grant x Southeast Asian!Fem Reader, (Unrequited) Marc Spector x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, no use of Y/N, no physical description of the reader

WARNINGS: Unrequited love (Reader is in love with Marc, Marc is oblivious but means well), first love and heartbreak, Reader knows limited Spanish, italics in dialogue indicates Reader and her parents speaking a foreign language (unspecified), mentions of divorce and a brief mention of the military 

WORD COUNT: 7.5k

SERIES SUMMARY: Inspired by the 1954 film & 1995 remake of Sabrina, No Moon Knight AU. 

To heal your broken heart from your unrequited crush on Marc Spector, your family sends you to Singapore to help establish your cousin’s bakery. You return to New York two years later as a more confident woman, but you find yourself picking up the pieces of your broken heart (again) after seeing Marc still holding onto his first love. Sensing the pain and heartbreak between you and Marc, Jake steps in as a white knight to create distance to help both of you heal, but he was never supposed to fall in love with you. 

Author's Note: Many thanks to @soft-girl-musings, @v4mpires0ap, @callingmrsbarnes for supporting me with this fic. It's been a long time coming 🤍 Special thanks to @flightlessangelwings for your guidance and advice on making writing more inclusive! Today is my birthday, and I wanted to share this to my dear friends who never gave up on me when I gave up on writing.

Tagging (but no pressure to read!): @writefightandflightclub @venting402 @musing-magpie @themarcusmoreno

THE BREAKING

You remembered your last night in New York— it was near the end of summer when you were set to leave to help your cousin establish her bakery in Singapore. While your friends and family were excited for your new adventure abroad, you had run away, letting your feet guide you to an all too familiar apartment building before you collapsed on the steps. Your heart was filled with dread, splintering into two like an old tree bending to the howling winds of sorrow and heartbreak. 

How foolish you were, you thought to yourself as you sobbed on the steps, your face buried in your hands as the tears continued to pour out of you. Your heart held no contempt for your cousin or the beautiful country of Singapore; you loved your cousin dearly and always wanted to visit her there, but living in Singapore for two years would mean leaving him behind.

Marc Spector, the man you loved for so many years. The man who didn’t even know you existed, the man who didn’t love you back. 

He was beautiful, handsome. Dark brown eyes and curly black hair, strong brows and the whisper of a five o’clock shadow kissing his jaw and cheeks. A smooth voice with a bit of a drawl that you found comforting and uniquely Marc. Broad, wide shoulders and sun-kissed tan skin, it did not take long for you to fall in love with him.

Like scenes from an old film, you replayed your cherished memories of him in your mind. His nose scrunching when laughing at one of your jokes, his proud smile when you showed him your college degree, his gentle lips on your forehead as he comforted you after a rough night. 

As much as you love him, shards of guilt tore through you. Deep down, you knew he was still reeling from his divorce, and that he still harbored feelings for his ex-wife. A few nights after the two of you had too much to drink, Marc would recount the memories he shared with her that were near and dear to his heart. Each time he mentioned her name, daggers were impaled through you. How could you let yourself fall for someone who only saw you as a friend and still had feelings for their first love? 

You had set yourself for heartbreak, and you had no one to blame but yourself as you tried to pick up the pieces and forget your feelings for him. Perhaps living in Singapore for two years would be for the best. You would make yourself forget about him and the distance would ease the pain and remedy the inevitable heartbreak that was soon to follow.

Before you could draft a plan, a pair of dark boots appeared in front of you, followed by the sound of a familiar voice calling your name in concern.

Your heart skipped a beat. 

“What are you doing out here so late? What’s wrong?”

You pulled the sleeves of your shirt over your wrists as you hastily wiped your tears, using your sleeves as a makeshift tissue. “I’m fine, Jake. I just got lost in my head, please do not worry about me.”

Your lips quivered and your voice trembled as soon as you spoke, a sob threatening to escape from your throat as another wave of tears pricked the corners of your eyes. How silly of you to fall apart on the steps outside of his apartment building- have you no shame?

To your surprise, a thin cloth was offered to you, pulling you out of your thoughts before you could spiral into self-degradation and pity. Hesitantly, you looked up at him to find his brown eyes softening in empathy. When you didn’t accept the kerchief right away, he gently gestured it towards you again, urging you to take it.

With a quiet thank you, you accepted it, dabbing your eyes and steadying your breathing as you heard him take a seat on the steps beside you.

“Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head, but kept your gaze fixed on the cloth in your hands. Even though Marc and Jake shared the same face, Jake was different. You couldn’t bear to look at him— one look, and he would see right through you.

Instead of answering him, you observed the scene in front of you. Across the street, two lovers exchanged sweet words and loving promises. Down the sidewalk, children screamed as they chased each other down the block. Cars, buses, and taxis drove by in a blur with only their flickering tail lights indicating their passing presence. You thought back to the nights you spent with Marc, your arm linked with his as he walked you home after you finished your night classes at the university. He would listen as you vented about the assignments your professors piled on you in the middle of midterms and other projects with similar deadlines. 

“We’re proud of you, you know,” Marc said once you finished crossing the street. “Going to school to get your degree. I went straight into the Marines after high school and was discharged after …”

His voice trailed off, but you caught the stony expression on his face and the darkness that clouded his eyes. Your heart began to ache. 

“I’m proud of you, too,” you nudged him lightly. “You’ve been through a lot, but you’re still here. I think that’s something worthy and important to celebrate.”

You grinned as you watched a smile form on his lips. How rare it was to see Marc smile, but how sweet it was to be the reason behind it.

After a moment, you answered him. 

“I’m just sensitive, that’s all.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a minute as you both listened to the bustling sounds of the city. That was the thing about Jake Lockley– his actions spoke louder than words, and him sitting here with you, letting you cry and stain his handkerchief with your eyeliner and mascara was enough to pull you out of your downward spiral. 

“That may be true,” Jake hummed from beside you, “but it’s okay to be sensitive. It means that you care and feel things deeply.”

Perhaps a little too deeply, you mused as you folded his handkerchief. It was your parents’ idea for you to live in the Lion City for two years as a way for you to not only apply what you learned in college to the real world, but to keep you away from Marc. 

“You need to forget about him. Pining after him will do you no good,” your father lectured one evening after Marc dropped you off at home. “He does nothing but bring you heartache.”

“He is a good man, Papa,” you reasoned. 

Your mother sighed as she pulled you onto the couch to sit between her and your father. “We never said he was a bad person, my child. But we don’t want to see you heartbroken over him. You are young and have your whole life ahead of you to fall in love with someone else.”

Suppose they have a point, you reckoned. All your life, you fantasized about falling hopelessly in love with someone and that they would reciprocate your feelings in return, but life is not as colorful and sweet as the romantic novels you read. 

“Have you ever fallen in love with someone you weren’t supposed to have feelings for?” You asked quietly. 

Jake smiled softly, but you caught the pain in his voice as he spoke. “A long time ago, yes.”

You were not close friends with Jake, not to the same level as you were with Marc and Steven. With Jake, he was more private. Much like the cabbie that he was, it often felt like there was a window between the two of you. He was in the front seat, but you were in the back seat, only seeing rare glimpses of him through the window in between.

His brown eyes fell on yours, and he raised a curious, but amused, eyebrow at you. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, your cheeks growing warm. “I don’t know you as well as I know Marc and Steven, so it’s a little strange for me to picture you as a man who was madly in love. You are always so quiet.”

To your surprise, Jake laughed, and you could not help but laugh along with him as you noticed how the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed. It was not often you heard him laugh, but it was a delightful sound that you wanted to hear again. 

“You’re a funny girl,” he chuckled, but you were not offended by his words. “But you do have a point. How about this? I’ll promise to show more of myself when you return from Singapore?”

You smiled at him as he extended his gloved hand to you. “I’d like that very much.” 

His smile was kind in return as he shook your hand. Then, he stood, gently helping you up from where you were seated on the dusty steps. 

“It’s getting late, conejita (little bunny), let me drive you home before your parents worry about you.”

You could not help but chuckle at the nickname he had given you as you followed him, barely catching the fond smile on his face as he helped you down the steps. Your tears had dried by then, your heart a little bit lighter while he guided you to his car. 

Like a true gentleman, he opened the door for you, making sure you had your seatbelt on before heading to the other side. Inside, everything was uniquely Jake with the smell of leather and his cologne, the seats spacious and free of clutter. As he turned on the engine, the comforting melody of a Spanish love ballad played from the speakers, and you slowly closed your eyes.

The first few nights in Singapore were rough. You were miserable and heartbroken as you absentmindedly helped your aunt, uncle, and cousin clean up the new shop. Concerned as they were, they insisted that you rest, convinced you were exhausted from the jet lag and adjustment to the new time change. Of course, you should have known better that they would contact your parents. Not wanting to keep secrets, they told them about your unrequited crush on “a handsome boy back home,” and that you were heartbroken that he could not tell you goodbye. 

The first few months, you wrote various letters to Steven. From tourist postcards to long handwritten letters, you poured your thoughts, feelings, and emotions into the letters, hoping that your best friend would offer you some solace and healing to your heartache. 

I have never fallen in love so deeply, not even when I was a teenager. Isn’t it childish? My parents were worried, and now my aunt, uncle, and cousin fear I may not be helpful in establishing their bakery because of my “broken heart.” Growing up, I wanted to fall in love like in the movies, but I never expected it to be this painful and tragic. You would think that a smart girl like me would have fallen in love with someone else. Instead, I fell for a man who is still in love with his first love. I might as well be reaching for the moon. 

It would take weeks, sometimes a couple months before your letter would reach him. You would anxiously check the mail each day, hoping for comfort from him. When you finally received his letter, you excused yourself to the kitchen where you sat with your face covered in flour, your apron already painted in various colors from testing different icings as you unfolded his letter. 

You are still young, and you will find love again. The first love is always so painful, but do not fret, love. Have you forgotten? We already built rockets to reach the moon. It is a matter of finding the one that gravity pulls you to. 

You cherished each letter you wrote him. Even in today’s digital age, you and Steven preferred pen, wrinkled papers, and postage stamps. You would collect the most colorful and vibrant postcards to send to Steven so he could add it to his collection, and you could not help but smile when he sent a picture of all your postcards taped to Gus’ fish tank.  It felt a bit old-fashioned to wait months for a letter overseas, but more intimate as you shared stories and memories with each other.

The first few months were a bit painful, but as it turned into a year, your heart did not ache as much as when you left New York. Your cousin’s bakery took off during the first year, and soared to higher heights in the second with lines trailing out the door, but you were quick on your feet to bring out all the delectable treats and desserts that the city loved. One eventful night, your cousin brought you with her college friends to the local bar to celebrate, and you forgot that Marc broke your heart as you both sang to your favorite songs until your lungs ached and your throat ran dry. 

You stumbled into the kitchen that night with your cousin, the two of you giggling as your aunt and uncle merely laughed at how affectionate the two of you were with each other. You quickly ran to your room to pull out a pen, your body filled with warmth as you sat at your bedroom window with your cousin’s cat curled at your feet. 

Oh Steven, I haven’t felt this happy since leaving New York. I just got back from the karaoke bar with my cousin, and although I might be a little tipsy, I’ve learnt so many things here in Singapore. The night is young, but rich with dreams, wishes, and hope as I write underneath a full moon. Come what may, my heart will be open to new possibilities and adventures, for I am not the same person as I was yesterday. And before I forget, don’t tell my parents that I will be coming home a few weeks early; I want to surprise them, and I want to surprise you with how much I have grown. I would like to think I am not the same college girl who left with a broken heart, because I will return as a hopeful young woman who still dares to dream.

Before you knew it, you were packing your things and ready to return home. Your aunt, uncle, and cousin embraced you tightly with tearful smiles as they dropped you off at the airport, and soon, you were flying through the clouds. Your heart fluttered in excitement at seeing your family and friends again, and for once, you were not too worried about facing him again. You remained hopeful as you reminded yourself of how far you’ve come as you carried your dreams with you. 

But perhaps you spoke too soon. 

You called Steven a few nights before to plan for your arrival. Steven promised that he would pick you up at the JFK airport, but as you made it down the escalator, your heart nearly stopped. Waiting at the bottom was Marc Spector, holding up a sign with your name and a bouquet of flowers. His face is partially hidden by the shadow of his cap, but you could see the growing smile on his face as you approached. 

“I know you were expecting Steven,” he explains as you stop in front of him, “but he remembered he can’t drive, so I offered to step in-”

Your heart swells as you take him in. It has been two years since you saw him last. You did not keep in touch with Marc as closely as you did with Steven, but seeing him hold a sign with flowers for you, you suddenly feel like that college girl again. 

Before he could finish his sentence, you wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly.

“Thank you for coming for me,” you whisper. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Your heart skips a beat as he returns your embrace. With your head on his shoulder, you close your eyes. His arms are as strong as you remembered him, and the scent of his cologne brings you back to those nights he would pick you up after class to walk you home. 

“It’s good to see you. We missed you.”

You ignore the sinking feeling in your chest as he pulls away. He looks down at you, and you could not help but smile at the warmth and softness in his brown eyes.

“I almost didn’t recognize you. You look different.” 

“Different?”

Marc smiles softly. He smoothes a loose strand of your hair, and you pray in that moment that he did not feel the sudden heat rising to your cheeks from the contact.

“A good kind of different,” he answers, “you’re glowing.”

Butterflies flutter in your tummy at his words. It was true- you were a different woman now, and you were not the same college girl with an unrequited crush on her friend. 

But in that moment, it seems all you could think about is his gentle smile. If you weren’t careful enough, you would slowly turn back into that lovesick girl. 

Before you delve too deep into your thoughts, Marc smiles fondly at you again as he hands you the bouquet.

“Let me get your things, and then I can take you home.”

You smile at him as he gathers your belongings. As you follow him out of the terminal, your fingers absentmindedly trace the soft petals of the daffodils. They are a soft white and delicate between your fingertips, and you are already thinking about what vase to use and where to put it in your bedroom once you get home. 

The ride home was quiet, and as much as you wanted to ask him about everything that you missed in the past two years, you were exhausted from your trip. It took some time, but Marc was able to persuade you to sleep, only lightly tapping your shoulder to wake you when he pulled up to your parents’ driveway. It was after dinner when you saw their silhouettes moving across the kitchen, and you could not wait to surprise them with your early arrival. 

And surprised they were. Screams of joy and laughter echoed throughout the neighborhood as your family embraced you with overjoyed tears streaming down their cheeks. Much to your surprise, they were civil with Marc as he and your father helped bring your suitcases in, even offering that he could stay for some coffee before he politely declined. Whether he knew that your parents did not favor him as much compared to Steven, you didn’t know, but you were happy that he brought you home. 

As he walks out the front door, you excuse yourself and call his name as you quickly follow after him. 

“Thank you again for picking me up and taking me home,” you tell him as he turns around. “I wouldn’t have gotten here without you.”

He smiles softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so. “Anytime, I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

You smile shyly. This wasn’t the first time he brought you home, and it reminded you of the nights he would pick you up or walk you home after class. Just like old times.

Your mind was reeling, your heart soaring as you placed the bouquet of daffodils on your desk. Despite your parent’s disapproval (and much to your dismay, too), all the feelings you thought you moved on from Marc quickly resurfaced after seeing him again. You did your best to not think about him too much while you were in Singapore, but seeing him smile at you and having him take you home, you could feel yourself falling for him all over again. 

It took a couple weeks to adjust to being back in New York, but it was wonderful to be home. You told your parents everything about your time in Singapore and the success of your cousin’s business. Every now and then, you would call her, your aunt, and uncle to see how popular their bakery became since you left. In the background of your video calls, you would see your uncle tending to a customer in the front, or your aunt reloading a tray of green tea mochi in their display case. You missed the hustle and bustle of Singapore, but you were glad to be in the familiarity of the Big Apple with your friends and family again. 

Steven met with you first after you settled back into your routine. It was a Thursday afternoon as the two of you sat in your living room and exchanged gifts. You beamed at all the stories and anecdotes he shared with you. 

“That’s amazing!” You told him. The two of you were cross-legged on the floor as you poured him another cup of tea. “I just know the kids are going to love having you as a tour guide in the King Tut exhibit at the Smithsonian.”

Your best friend grinned, a soft red dusting his smiling cheeks. “You think so? I start on Monday. I’m so nervous! I don’t want to mess it up or bore them with all the details, but you know how much I love Ancient Egypt.”

“You’re going to do great. You make history sound so fascinating and entertaining.” You smiled reassuringly at him. “I missed hearing all your stories while I was in Singapore.”

“Well, that just means I have to do some more research for you to get you up to speed,” Steven countered, and the two of you laughed. “I’m so happy that you’re back and that I get to meet with you again. We missed you so much.”

Once again, your heart skipped a beat at the thought of Marc missing you. But you quickly dismissed the thought as soon as it came— you and Marc were friends beforehand, after all. You already spent two years away from him, surely you should have gotten a grip over your unrequited crush on a man who had no romantic feelings for you whatsoever. 

Your face must have fallen. Before you caught yourself, you found Steven’s brown eyes washing over you with concern. “You know, love, Marc told me he missed you too. I know you didn’t keep in touch with him frequently like you did with me. Are you doing okay?”

You swallowed hard as the other shoe dropped. As much as you hated to admit, it was true. Compared to the handwritten letters and postcards you sent Steven, your communication with Marc paled in comparison. You reasoned with yourself that the distance would do you good, and the only times you shared any correspondence with him were through some texts and pictures you sent via email. Like Marc, you did not have much social media, and you preferred to keep your private life private. But in the texts you both shared, they were straight-forward. You knew Marc was not fond of communicating through texts, and it was difficult to keep track of when he fronted with the time differences between New York and Singapore. Naturally, he fell through the cracks. 

It’s been a few weeks since you saw Marc, and the last time you spoke with him was when he took you home after picking you up at the airport. You weren’t avoiding him, but you also did not trust yourself around him. One look at him, and all the feelings you tried to repress would suddenly rush to the surface. 

“Does he know?” You asked, your voice quiet and hesitant. “About my feelings for him?”

You watched as Steven’s eyes softened. Whether your best friend was telling the truth, or telling you what you needed to hear to avoid hurting you, you did not know.  

“No, he doesn’t.”

You nodded, but kept your gaze on your mournful expression looking up at you through your reflection on the glossy surface. The mug grew cold in your hands, and you no longer felt the warmth and comfort of your favorite tea. 

Sensing the change in demeanor, you heard Steven clear his throat and set his mug on the table. Pulling you out of your thoughts, you glanced over at him to see a sheepish smile on his lips, his curls slightly askew. 

“If you don’t mind, can I practice my first tour with you? I have my speeches ready, and I think I need to get you caught up on what you missed.”

You vaguely felt the sting in your cheeks as you smiled at him and nodded. “I would love to hear it. Tell me everything.”

As Steven practiced his first speech and tour with you, thoughts of Marc began to fade away. All you could do was smile as you listened to your friend recite the great history of ancient civilizations over your favorite cup of tea. Your heart ached as the afternoon bled into the evening, but it was not as painful as it was before. Things were different now— you were different— as you looked at your reflection in the mirror, reminding yourself that you had to move on, for your sake.

The days went by slowly, and soon it was summer. You smiled as the sun shined longer and the nights grew shorter, painting the sky vibrant hues of golds, oranges, and reds like a sparkling fire. You did not see Steven as often once he started his museum tours, but you always smiled at his texts. 

It was a Thursday morning when you were at home when you heard your phone chime from across the room. Expecting it to be Steven gushing about his latest tour to elementary school children, you picked up your phone without a second thought, only for your heart to stop. Marc.

You did not mean to ignore him, but your communication with him was limited in the months you returned. It was for the best, you reasoned with yourself. The distance would do you good, and for a while, you truly believed that you moved on from your unrequited crush on your friend. But just a simple text and call of his name brought you back to the sleepless nights of staining your pillow with tears. 

The rushing sound of your beating heart echoed in your ears as your fingers over the text. You couldn’t ignore him forever. He was your friend first, your heartbreak second. 

Which led you to wearing your favorite dress with your arm linked through his as the two of you walked through the busy town square of a night market. Much to your parents (and Steven’s) concern, you agreed to meet with him. 

“I haven’t talked to him since I left for Singapore,” you argued with your parents over dinner. “He was my friend first. I can’t ignore him forever.”

And honestly, you couldn’t, even if you tried. Marc was too observant, and the last thing you wanted was for him to think he hurt you. Even if your heart was breaking.

“I’m sure the food was better back in Singapore, but I thought that I could bring a part of it to you.”

You laugh softly as Marc turns to you. Seeing there was an Asian street food market in town that weekend, Marc invited you to come along. It was a way for you two to catch up since you had yet to have a full and proper conversation with him since you returned home. It was casual enough, and surely, no harm could be done. 

“It’s still home,” you assure him, and your heart swells as he smiles at you. 

How could you hate him when he still brought you joy?

“I researched what I could, but I’ll need your opinion since you’re the expert,” he teases, and you laugh again. “There’s so many choices, it’s almost overwhelming. Where do I start?”

You look around at the different vendors, booths, and trucks around the square. Even at this hour, there are so many people trying new things and enjoying the night. There really is no place like home. 

“I’ll show you one of my favorites,” you tell him. “Have you had mochi donuts before?”

“It will be my first time,” Marc smiles at you, and you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as he extends his arm to you. “Show me.”

With a pounding heart, you link your arm through his as you guide him to the booth. Thankfully the line was not long, and you had food to temporarily distract you from the emotions rising to the surface. 

The conversation began to flow into a steady rhythm as the night continued on. Two years have passed since you last stood by his side, but tonight, the memories gathered in your mind as if it were only yesterday. You found yourself laughing over the shenanigans that Marc and Steven found themselves in while you were gone, and in return, you shared stories of creating recipes and painting the town red with your cousin and her friends on sleepless nights. 

For a little while, you fooled yourself into thinking it was the two of you, just like old times. 

You sit on a bench as the night draws to a close. With his jacket around your shoulders, it takes everything in you to not pull it closer towards yourself. It may not mean nothing to him, but it means everything to you.

Across the promenade, a local college band begins to play as the strings of their guitar tunes out the noise of your beating heart. If you listen long enough, you would not have to hear your heart ache. 

After a moment, Marc takes a shaky breath beside you, his dark brows furrowed. “Can I ask you something?”

You turn to face him. “Anything.”

You watch as a soft smile spreads across his lips, but you know him long enough to know that it did not reach his eyes. 

“You’ve been different since Singapore,” he begins, and you swallow hard, fearing his next words. “You’ve been distant. Things just aren’t the same or what it used to be. I need to know—”

Your breath catches in your throat as he turns to look at you. His brown eyes were dark, filled with emotion that he seldom showed. 

“Was it something I did?” He asks, his voice shaking. “Have I hurt you?”

Marc Spector was many things— observant, perceptive— but a heartbreaker? A heartbreaker was not one of them, even if he held your broken one in the palm of his hands.

“No, Marc—” you swallow the growing ache in your chest as you reach for him. “Please don’t ever think that. You did nothing wrong.” Gently, you squeeze his hands to comfort him. 

You could not lie to him. You could not hurt him, not when he was like this. 

“Things may be different, but I haven’t changed. Not really.”

But you have, in your own way. You would like to believe you have changed and grown into a young woman, but as you smiled at him, you wondered how much you really changed when your heart fluttered at his smile. 

“You seem more grown up,” he whispers softly as he smoothes a strand of your hair. “Don’t grow up so fast that you don’t need me, kid.”

You blink, ignoring the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes at his words. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With a comforting smile, he stretches his arm and places it around your shoulders to pull you close as his lips gently place a soft kiss on your forehead. Your heart skips a beat from his touch as the scent of his cologne envelopes you. It is so tempting to close your eyes and fall deeper into his embrace, but you fight against the heartstrings being tugged at your heart. 

In the promenade, the band transitions to a softer, romantic song with a few slow strokes of an acoustic guitar. One by one, couples gather with their partners to sway and dance along. A soft smile graces your lips as you recognize the tune. 

“This is one of my favorite Hozier songs,” you remark fondly as you remembered discovering his music for the first time. “Do you like his music—”

You look over at your friend, but stop. It was as if he was frozen in time, eyes wide as if he had seen a ghost. 

“Marc?”

He did not answer. He remains frozen, paralyzed and rooted to the spot as if he was ensnared by invisible hands. You call out to him again as you grasp his hands in yours, trying to bring him back to reality. 

Finally, his eyes meet yours, filled with nothing but pain and sorrow. 

“This song—” he stammers, his voice hoarse. His gaze flickers between you and the band as the couples in the courtyard embrace one another to the lyrics. “This song was played at my wedding.” 

Your heart sinks as you realize the significance. Layla. 

“It was your song,” you breathe as the pain in your heart begins to splinter deep inside, tearing it in two. How insensitive of you to think that he was over his first love. 

As if he was burned, Marc pulls away from you. He turns his head away, his voice low and trembling as he speaks. 

“I’m sorry, kid, but please excuse me—”

Before you could say a word, he was already walking away, leaving you alone at the bench with his jacket around your shoulders. 

Slowly, you pull your hands toward yourself. The tears that threatened you from before finally had the chance to fall, staining your cheeks with heartbreak and woe. Your heart twists as you watch the couples cradle each other as if they would fall apart without their touch. You were foolish to think that could be you and Marc one day. How could you fault him for still being in love with his first love when you still had feelings for him?

You should have said no, you scold yourself as you pull his jacket tighter around you, trying to comfort yourself with the lingering scent of his cologne and imagining that he was holding you in his arms. Tonight was a mistake, and you should have kept your distance from him. You should have listened to your parents and Steven’s words of caution, but here you were, crying alone on a bench. 

Marc saw you as nothing more than a younger sister. He was never yours. 

As you wipe the stray tears on your cheeks, you are pulled from your thoughts by a familiar handkerchief crossing your line of vision. 

Stunned, you look up and find a pair of deep brown eyes washing over you in concern. He shares the same face, but you know the difference. 

“A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t spend her evening shedding tears, conejita.”

A dry laugh escapes your lips as you accept the handkerchief. As you brush away your tears, he takes a seat beside you and whistles a low tune. 

“Marc,” you clear your throat, trying to control the wave of tears that threatened to spill over. “Is he alright?”

“He’ll be fine, he just needs some time,” Jake answers. He looks over at you with a sympathetic gaze. “I’m sorry he walked away.”

You shrug as you look down, your fingers twisting the ends of his handkerchief to numb the heartache. Even when it hurt, you could not find it in yourself to be upset with him. 

You echo his words. “I’ll be fine.”

He clicks his tongue with a shake of his head. 

“We can’t have that,” he reasons as he stands and offers his hand to you with a gentle smile. “Let’s end the night on a good note.”

You ponder his words as you look up at him. Jake shares the same face as your best friends, but is different in his own way. Steven’s eyes were bright and doe-eyed while Marc’s were darker with a storm of emotion, but Jake was different.

Looking at him now, they are deeper, but filled with a sense of warmth and familiarity that you could not explain. It bewilders you, but at the same time, it was as if you were greeting an old friend. 

Yet, there is so much about Jake that you did not know. You try not to let your worries get the best of you, but you remain hesitant and guarded at his intentions. You prefer not to know, and you would rather delude yourself into hoping he was not aware of your unrequited feelings for Marc, too. It seems everyone knows how you feel about him except the man himself. 

As if he read your mind, he reaches forward to caress your cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that falls from your eyes. 

“I promise I have no ill intentions, conejita,” he comforts you with a gentle smile. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Your cheeks grow warm. “I don’t know you very well.”

He chuckles softly at you. “I promised I would show more of myself to you when you returned. Let me fulfill that promise.”

You remembered that night when he found you crying on the steps outside of his apartment before you left for Singapore. It felt so long ago, but it also felt as if it were yesterday. 

With a sheepish smile, you accept his hand. “Lead the way.”

You allow him to guide you to the promenade with your hand in his. After a moment, he pulls you close with one of his hands settling on your back, the other holding yours as he begins to sway to the music. You follow his movements with one hand on his shoulder as the other was laced with his, keeping you connected to him. 

You were not much of a dancer. For most of high school, you opted out of homecoming and only attended prom during your senior year, but even then, you were with friends. You never slow danced with anyone except your father whenever he played the old romantic love songs from his homeland in the kitchen on Saturday mornings.

An apology immediately falls from your lips as you accidentally step on his feet. “I’m so sorry—”

He tucks a finger under your chin, guiding you to look at him. 

“Eyes on me,” he whispers. “Follow my movements. Pretend it’s just the two of us.”

Slowly, you nod, keeping your eyes on him as you follow his steps. Your cheeks feel warm from the contact, but you elect to ignore it. You could only imagine how you looked. 

“When did you learn how to dance?” You ask him curiously. You did not want to say it, but you were surprised to see that he was a natural dancer. 

“I’m a man of many hidden talents, and I am not one to reveal my secrets.”

You could not help but laugh at his answer as he grins playfully at you. He was always an enigma. 

“Well, whoever taught you must have been a wonderful teacher,” you compliment him with a small and shy smile. “And whoever you danced with had a lucky partner.” 

Jake laughs softly as he twirled you. Once you face him again, he smiles. 

For the first time, you feel something foreign tug at your heartstrings. In the glimpses you have seen of Jake Lockley, you knew very little about him, but you knew enough to know he only revealed his true self to a select few.

Perhaps this time, you would finally meet the man in the front seat through the window in-between.

The ride home was quiet, but the silence was not suffocating. The city lights blurred past you as Jake hummed and whistled along to the Spanish melodies that played on the radio. Some songs you were familiar with from the playlists that Steven and Marc would often share with you. There were times when you asked them to teach you the language so you could better understand the songs they would sing, and in return, you shared the music from your family’s homeland. You did not recognize the songs that Jake played on the radio, but even in your limited understanding of the language, you found comfort in the harmonies. 

Like a true gentleman, Jake walked you to your front door once he dropped you off at home. The lights were still on in the kitchen when you arrived, and you knew your parents were still awake and waiting for your return. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you turn to him as you stop at your front door. “I had a good time with you and Marc.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Marc. There was so little he shared about his divorce with Layla, and from the little you knew about it, you knew he loved her deeply. The wound in his heart had yet to close and heal, much similar to yours. 

Sensing your worry, Jake offers a reassuring smile. 

“He’ll be alright,” he reassures you. “He just needs some time to himself, but I promise you he’ll be okay. Steven and I will look after him.”

You nod. You’ve seen Marc withdraw at times, but not like this. You could still see the fear on his face— he looked as if he had seen a ghost, and you wonder if he will be able to come back.

“Did you want to come inside? I made some mochi earlier that you could take home.”

He shakes his head, but still offers that comforting smile at you. “I’ll be alright, but thank you. Can you tell your parents I said hello?”

You smile weakly at him, feeling a bit comforted by his reassurance. “I will.”

As you watch him walk back to his car, your heart begins to ache, a dagger digging into your chest and you could barely breathe. 

For a moment, he looked just like Marc. Slicked back dark hair, olive green jacket over his shoulders, and that soft, gentle smile. 

There was a time when Marc would bring you home like this, right after your night classes. He would walk you to the front door, his jacket over your shoulders, a protective arm around you as it was already dark once the sun had set. 

“Whenever you need me, you can call me,” he comforted you the first night you completed your night class. It was already fall with the days growing shorter and the nights growing darker, and you often called him to take you home since you felt unsafe walking across campus and waiting at the bus stop by yourself. 

“You don’t need to take me home every Thursday because I’m scared of walking alone to the bus stop at night. I can call campus police for an escort,” you told him as he opened the car door for you.

Marc shook his head and took your bag from your shoulders as you stepped in. “The buses aren’t always reliable, and I need to make sure you’re home safe.”

You began to protest, but he smiled at you as he leaned down and kissed your forehead. 

“No one can hurt you when I’m around,” he whispered. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easy, kid.”

But you did not have to do anything for Marc to leave you. How could you lose someone you loved if they were never yours?

You ignore the ache in your heart as Jake drives away, disappearing into the darkness like a dying star in the night sky. With a deep breath, you force a smile and step inside to find your parents waiting for you in the living room, eager to hear everything about your date. 

It went well, you lie. We are just friends, and my feelings for him have faded. I am no longer in love with him. 

I am no longer in love with Marc Spector, you repeat to yourself as you sit in your room, your fingers tracing the daffodil petals that you saved from the bouquet he had given you. You cherished the flowers he gifted you, but they have withered and died, their petals pressed into thin pieces you would have saved and kept near to your heart. 

You remembered sitting in the field as a schoolgirl with flowers in your hand and giggling with your friends as you sang, he loves me, he loves me not. 

You loved him, but he loves you not.

I am no longer in love with Marc Spector, you whisper, dropping the petals into the wastebasket. 

I am no longer in love with Marc Spector. 

Another petal falls, followed by the other. 

I am no longer in love with Marc Spector. 

A tear falls from your eyes as you drop the last petal, your hand empty without any trace of him. 

It was time to let him go. 

#jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #marc spector x fem!reader #steven grant x fem!reader #moon knight x fem!reader #moon knight imagine #jake lockley imagine #steven grant imagine #marc spector imagine #jake lockley x you #steven grant x you #marc spector x you #moon knight imagines #jake lockley imagines #steven grant imagines #marc spector imagines

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

imperfectionist (vinny hong x jo!reader)

jay jo's imperfectionist sister meets the flawful vinny hong.

part 4

part 3 | part 5

pairing: vinny hong x jo!fem!reader

part warnings: fem!reader, gifted!reader, cursing, mentions of blood & violence, graphic description of wounds, jo!reader (jay is reader's 1 year older brother, but they're in the same class), physical descriptions (resemblance to jay, jay's mother, heavily implied asian features) intelligent!reader, second person's pov (you, you're, your), reader is NOT yumi. wb main story SPOILERS

___

You didn't have the chance to react once you felt the cold blade of the knife penetrating your flesh from behind. The grip of your hand on the glass shard loosened from shock, causing it to drop from your hand down to the ground, making a high-pitched clank!

He pulled the knife out from where he stabbed on your back and gestured to the man lying on the floor to move. Damn it! This was their plan from the start! That's why the first man carried no weapons!

You backed-up and fell backwards, butt-first. You shut your eyes in pain. The man whose face was bleeding hastily scrambled on his feet to collect his stance and harshly pulled your bag, they flipped the bag upside-down and your things fell scattered on the concrete ground. You didn't see clearly, but you were sure they took your important belongings like your wallet and phone. When they're done taking everything valuable, they quickly scrammed and left you alone. 

"Hah, I'll get you back, fucking bastards! Get your asses back here!” You gritted your teeth in pain. The first time in a while that you got into a fight again, but at the cost of getting stabbed.

Did they get away with that, from so much anger, your guard was off! You limped your way to sit against the concrete wall of the alley. You tried to search for your phone but you remembered that those monsters took it. I'll kill them.

Your eyes widened in horror when you felt your own blood from your behind. Shit. This wasn't a part of what you expected to happen tonight. You remembered your medical stitching staples, they couldn't possibly have taken those. They're inside your bag, but you didn't know where it went when your things scattered, and you can't see from the dark.

Your scrambling was interrupted when someone stopped directly in front of you. You thought it was one of those fuckers that doubled-back to either kill you or retrieve the rest of your belongings. But to your surprise, the stranger standing across from you didn't do anything. You can only look down to his feet. You only caught a glimpse of mud-stained, red old skool shoes. No, this isn't what either the mobs were wearing. 

“Who're you?” You squinted up at him.

“I knew it. Pesky girl. I finally found you.” That voice…

“Do I know you?” your eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion, ignoring the name he just called you.

His feet stepped back. “You. What are you doing here?”

“Who are you?” You repeated your question. You were starting to feel the sharp pain on your back and a small movement makes it worse.

“You're the girl who stitched me up months ago. Heard your voice cursing someone while walking by, I thought it sounded familiar.”

Oh… Oh.

"Ah…” You grinned and looked down in amusement. “So you remembered. What an awful scenario for a reunion.”

You relaxed your limbs to slump against the wall more. You heard taps of a finger clicking on something only to realize he's trying to open his phone light when you finally got a glimpse of illumination when he finally turned it on. And even if he's against the light, you can see him. There's that familiar fluffy, fiery red hair.

It is him.

You twisted the corner of your lip upwards as it curved into a mischievous smirk. “Looks like deja vu, Vinny Hong? Only with switched roles this time?”

“You have some serious nuts in your head to joke even while bleeding to death. Want me to stitch you up, too?” He sarcastically countered, like it was a normal occurence for him to look at fresh blood, too.

You kicked your feet against the concrete ground and with a slightly hopeful tone, you asked, "Can you do it?"

"Do what?"

“Stitch me up.”

He blinked behind his phone light. “...Are you being serious right now?”

You twisted your lips and laughed, “Serious as in I'm-losing-blood-as-time-passes-and-I'm-going-to-die serious.”

“Are you sure you're that girl from that night? You were more tamed and quiet the first time I saw you.” His eyes drifted on the blood on your hands.

“Well that's because tamed—in fact, is not me.”

It's been months since that incident. And this is the first time you saw him again after never expecting to cross paths with him again.

With the unintentional help he was providing by turning his phone light on, you got a chance to have a clearer sight to rip the seam of your uniform undershirt's end. Vinny didn't say a word nor move a muscle for a moment. You can feel his eyes following what you're doing. He squinted his eyes very slightly as he seemed more suspicious of you. He wonders how can it be possible that you're this calm and still able to think practically despite being stabbed? 

You started struggling to push yourself forward and sit properly as you tried to reach behind you to cover the stab wound with the cloth. The part of the shirt slipped off your hand as you let out a sharp hiss. This is not going to work. I need another person.

Vinny only firmly held his phone up. He's not capable of doing medical procedures, but at least he was making an effort to help you even in the simplest way. You cursed under your breath and inhaled a nostril-stinging amount of oxygen.

“Help me.” You kicked the ripped cloth to the side. You can't use it anymore, it's contaminated.

“...Well unlike you, I don't know how to stitch a wound up.”

“Can you at least try?”

"Are you crazy? I'm not you!”

“Just a couple staples will suffice.”

“No.”

“Think of me as paper–”

“No!”

“Agh! Fuck. Nevermind, I'll do it myself. Just please get my medical staples!”

"You can't possibly reach behind you. You're going to kill yourself faster if you do whatever hell you're planning to do. You can't die yet, I still have questions to ask,” he looked around before his gaze drifted to your face once again. “I'll call an ambulance.”

“No… No!” You reached for his arm. “No hospital. I told you, I can do it myself.” Your grip on his arm tightened slightly from the pain of the wound and at the same time, a non-verbal way of begging him not to take you to the hospital. The way you grabbed his hand with your shaking ones was unintentionally parallel to the way he gripped yours before he passed out the first time you met.

He spared you a glance, without any trace of compassion. “That's what I told you too when I was in your place, but you didn't listen.”

“The circumstances are different!”

“How so?”

You avoided his question as you pulled his hand close and you touched your own face and neck with his large hand. He retrieved his hand before you can even bring it down to your chest.

"The fuck are you doing?!"

"Direct physical contact and fingerprints. You can't escape me now."

And then he took a moment before he realized what you implied. Now his irritation is growing stronger. “You…!” He backed away with a frown.

"I'm always one step ahead of everyone. Bring me my duffel bag!”

“No.”

“Please... I really can't go to the hospital.”

“Why not?”

You almost ripped your hair off with vexation. Can he stop with the questions?! People are so fucking annoying!

“Because of my mom! She'll kill me!"

He scoffed. "So you're saying Miss Model Student is scared of her mother finding out about her tendencies of beating people up in deserted alleys? I wonder why."

“That's none of your business, and you didn't know what really happened!”

He knows there must be a reason why. You reached forward and pulled on his fiery red hair lightly. And your brain didn't miss registering how unexpectedly soft his hair was. Your banter was going on fast that it was as if the both of you were just spewing nonsense. You were desperate and he wasn't willing to do anything other than to bring you to a hospital.

“You don't understand… My mother, her co-workers will see me, and they'll tell her I...”

Vinny gaped his mouth pensively. So your mother works in a hospital.

“Well, shouldn't she find out? You're her daughter. She must be worried for you.”

“You clearly don't know how my mother takes things for, especially from me.”

He detected how your mother was clearly an issue, a sore spot to you—like how some things are for him, and he wasn't meaning on rubbing salt on your wound, so he just gave up tried to say something else to divert the topic.

“There's no other option for you but to go to the hospital. Either that or nothing.”

You had a staredown for a few seconds. Before you sighed and gave up. Maybe you'll just think of something to hide the traces of what happened tonight.

“Fine. But you'll accompany me.”

“What? No!”

“Yes, you will.”

Frustration was visible on his face as he thought, Good heavens, just why am I always surrounded by stubborn people? 

___

You woke up lying on one of the common beds in the E.R. You didn't bother getting a hospital room, so the only thing covering you from the busy environment outside right now were the forest green curtains surrounding the hospital bed.

“You awake?”

Your head panned to your left side. Vinny was standing with crossed arms in the far left corner. Vinny? He's still here? Why didn't he leave?

You felt like shit. He was looking especially a little blurry tonight. Until you realized you weren't wearing your glasses anymore. You squinted and looked at Vinny again until your eyes adjusted and finally saw him clearly. And only now did you realize that his eyes are two different colors—Heterochromia!

You stumbled up but your knees shook causing you to almost fall down—if you didn't catch yourself in time. You saw how his arm rose and twitched forward a little to catch you, possibly on instinct but still he didn't make enough effort to really catch you, though. It's fine, you can hold yourself up alone. 

“You... You stayed?”

“You told me to, after all.” He side-eyed you to make sure you weren't going to stumble again. “Watch it.”

Vinny only agreed to accompany you to pay you back for saving his life the first time you met. Not about you dealing with the expenses, but you taking it up yourself to stitch someone hands-on. You saw him crossing his arms again in your peripheral vision.

When the attending doctor was done checking up on you—which wasn't a problem since you were conscious when you arrived, Vinny approached you.

“Can I go home now that you're awake?” He sat at the chair near your hospital bed. Upon scanning you and looking at your current state, it's like nothing happened. You didn't even look shook, not one bit.

"A little while more until my mom's co-workers leave, and you can go home. I also need someone to talk to right now.” Curse this hospital for being the nearest one.

He clicked his tongue and begrudgingly leaned back on his seat. Your stomach grumbled a little. You only ate bunggeopangs this whole evening. You haven't had any proper meal.

Upon hearing, a little while later, Vinny fished in his pocket. When he looked up he find your eyes were elsewhere.

“[Y...Y/N].” He was quite hesitant to call you by your name for the first time. He wasn't even sure if he got it right. Your head turned to him and he showed you what he's holding in his hand. It was your Matcha-flavored kit-kats.

Your face lightened up in anticipation. "For me? You shouldn't have!” 

He handed you your duffel bag too. “They found those in your pocket in the operating room.”

"Right, I totally forgot about that. Pass it here.”

He tossed the matcha kit-kats to you. You offered him some but he refused. While you were busy eating for comfort, he kept staring at the side of your face.

“If you have something to ask, go on.” You told him without looking in his direction.

“Where did you learn to stitch wounds? Are you a serial killer or something?”

You contained your laugh. Serial killer.

“That was a temporary stitch. It's not exactly meant to hold up there for long.”

"I'm not that level of an idiot. I looked at it. And I know a clean stitch when I see one. I know that's not your first time. What are you hiding?”

You appreciated the subtle implication in the comment he made on the quality of your stitches—which you took as a positive feedback.

“I told you the first time. Volunteer work in hospitals.”

He raised his eyebrows in doubt. You rolled your eyes, hiding your smirk as you tried to be serious. This dubious grouch is surely getting on my nerves. “What? Do you think I stick needles on people for fun?”

His lips agape. He really can't believe the bizarre thing coming out of your unfiltered mouth. Maybe the anesthesia was making her mouth more unfiltered, he thought.

“You have an odd sense of humor.”

"You're just unfunny.”

"How did you know my name? I don't remember telling you.” because you left before he woke up the first time you met.

“Oh, right. Truth is, I heard from you again because of Minu.”

“Minu… You know him?” Vinny's eyes darkened, waiting for you to elaborate about your connection with Minu. Bingo.

“He's my schoolmate. Where did you go off to? They said you weren't home earlier. They tried to call you from outside your house.”

Vinny remembered ignoring Sung's texts of "Where are you right now? Someone's here to see you." that were only marked delivered. He finally pieced everything together. Sung's text, Minu coming to his house. It means Minu's the one who came to his house with Sung to see him earlier.

“Why did they come to see me?” 

You swallowed the kit-kat you were chewing before answering, “From what Minu told me, Sung came to our school personally to ask help for your personal conflict.”

“So you learned about my screwed up life?” Sung Kwon, that little shit. he thought.

“Think what you want to think. But I'm not here to comment about your life.” You answered. He sat in silence after that.

“Join the biking crew.” You directly looked into his hetero-colored eyes.

His mouth slightly agape. He knew exactly what you were talking about, and it's not as if he's going to pretend not to.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

He looked annoyed. He rolled his eyes. The way his reactions were just what you're expecting out of him is entertaining. “I'm leaving.”

“Don't. I still need your help.”

“I doubt you do. With the way you're annoying me, I think you have just enough energy to hold yourself up.”

“Just listen, they're lacking a member. Minu's biking crew needs you.” And you need the biking crew.

“Why don't you join?”

You sighed. This again?

"I have a lot of responsibilities weighing on my shoulders right now. The pressure's not getting any lighter.”

His expression changed a little. Like he was holding himself back from saying something.

“What?” Your brows furrowed.

“Nothing. I just thought the Student Model Princess dub was a joke.” He only called you that to poke fun at you, but he didn't know you were actually suffering from it. Had he known, he wouldn't have had.

“Oh, you're being empathetic now? You're really good at swinging between moods.”

He rolled his eyes, look who's talking. “Sure. Should I learn to stitch people too so I can be more similar to you?”

"You seem to have a lingering attachment to my stitches. Do you want me to open up that stab wound of yours and stitch it up again?”

He grimaced in distaste. “Attachment? Barf.” 

Just as he was bantering with you, as much as he doesn't want to admit, your enigmatic personality is quite amusing and foreign to himself-claimed dullness. It's crazy how you can manage to make him respond even if he doesn't want to anymore.

“I'll pay you back for the hospital settlement you paid last time.”

“Don't bother. It wasn't my money anyway.” It was, but you couldn't possibly care about money.

“Doesn't matter. I'll still pay you back in some way.”

“You just did tonight. When you brought me here. That's enough payment.” you opened another packet of a matcha kit-kat. 

Your eyes caught the dried bloodstains on your shirt. You then reached inside of your duffel bag. Your clothes were still inside, the clothes you packed sure came in handy. Now all you have to do is change your clothes.

“Hey, can you please turn around?” You turned to Vinny whose attention was somewhere else. 

"No." He had enough of your teasing and you might be plotting another one of your schemes. He won't fall for your tricks again.

“Fine, if you say so.” You started to lift the ends of your ripped, blood-stained uniform top, revealing your bare skin.

"The hell!" Vinny quickly looked away and turned around when he realized what you're about to do. You wouldn't actually flash your chest to him you did it to annoy him.

“I have to change. My roommate will freak out if she sees the blood on my clothes. Don't look until I say it's cool, and make sure no one opens the curtain.”

You told him he can turn around when you did finish changing. He faced you but he was still awkwardly avoiding you with his eyes. You shook your head at his awkwardness. Is this really the man who beat Dom's ass up?

“I'm fully clothed now. Don't let your mind fly anywhere else. I was only messing with you.” you scrunch your face.

He couldn't hide his annoyed expression, “Well, you really should stop.”

“Okay.”

You both fell silent. It came to his mind how he was supposed to be fuming about his unfortunate life, but somehow, he forgot how fucked up his life was for a second, and the only thing he cared about right now is to reciprocate your ridiculing. Really, how can you do that?

"...You're annoying." Vinny crumpled the side of his lips snarkily as he opened his mouth again after a while.

"No, you're annoying." 

"The anesthesia must be seeping in your brain right now. I didn't know it makes people insane as a side effect.” 

You nodded sarcastically. “Yeah, yeah. Because of your attitude, it makes me regret not twisting that knife that night when I had the chance.”

“You know what? I really should be going home now.”

“Wait.” You stood up slowly and pushed the curtain a little to take a peek outside. Your parents' co-workers are gone. Finally. “They're gone. You can go. Thanks for your company, Vinny Hong.”

“Sure.” He checked if he forgot anything before he opened the curtain. 

“Oh, and before you go,” He glanced back at you, waiting for what you'll follow.

You tossed him a keychain—A cat wearing a tomato hat meme.

“About joining the crew, you should give it a thought. And that...” you pointed at the tomato cat that resembles him, “...that's the only trinket of mine I could give you as a token of gratitude. I made that myself, it's hard resin.” He averted his eyes and looked down for a seconds as if he was contemplating. After a few seconds, he closed his palm, enclosing the keychain inside his hand as he looked back up to you.

“Goodbye.”

You were left standing there as you watched as he stepped out of the hospital. Without your realization, your expression turned back to being blank. It was as if it only sunk in now that you're alone again—something you didn't feel when he was there.

***

#vinny hong #jay jo x reader #vinny hong x reader #jay jo #windbreaker

[genderbinaryisforlosers]

[basic ID in alt, detailed ID below]

i love them more than words can say. already i wish i could listen to the children's adventure for the first time all over again.

[ID: 1. A height chart lineup showing the main characters of The Wizard, the Witch, and the Wild One side-by-side in the main campaign and the Children's Adventure. In order it is Eursulon, Suvi, Ame & Cool Dog, and Grandmother Wren & Taro.

Eursulon is a huge bear-like creature standing bipedal on digitigrade legs. As an adult (left) he stands to a height of 220cm. His fur around his ears and forehead resembles the plumage of a horned owl. He has an ursine nose and large tusks, and big, hazel eyes. He has white freckles on his face. He is wearing a long green cloak and beige and brown traveller's garb, and a golden pauldron is partially hidden by his cloak on his shoulder. It has a small dent in it but is well polished. In his right hand (viewer's left) he holds a round wooden shield, and in his left hand he holds an unsheathed sword, Wavebreaker, with pale blue silk lining wrapped around the hilt. He has a neutral expression.

As a child, he was still large at about 145cm tall, but had a rounder face, smaller fangs, and shorter feet. He is unclothed except for his golden pauldron, undented, and instead of a sword he is clutching a broom handle with both paws. He is smiling.

Suvi is a Black human girl who stands at around 183cm as an adult. She has a turquoise afro which is pulled back neatly into a bun and decorated with fine gold chains as well as a round golden censer hanging from the back. She is dressed in a smart Imperial blue uniform with gold and silver trim, and wields in her right hand a crystal staff decorated with the Imperial sigil and wings made of floating shards. In her left hand she holds a book bound in dark blue leather. Instead of wearing glasses, her brown eyes are magically treated, which causes a teal sheen to be visible over her pupils. She is smiling confidently.

As a child, she was about 120cm tall and her hair was still dark brown and not tied back. She has yellow asteria flowers in her hair as well as a pencil and a cool leaf, and wore huge round glasses. She wears a red button-up dress with pockets, stripey white tights, and smart indigo shoes. She clutches a brown canvas-bound book to her chest and looks wide-eyed.

Ame is an East Asian girl who stands at around 150cm as an adult. She has long, dark straight hair and dark brown eyes. She has her right hand on her hip while her left hand adjusts her giant red witch's hat. The hat has a white underside and there is a gold censer attached to the pointed tip. She is wearing a white wrap top patterned with pink petals, and the long flowy sleeves have been buttoned back. She has two bracelets around her left wrist, one is woven lilac and green, and the other is small pink flowers chained together. She has red skirt that resembles a toadstool, with white spots on the cap and pink ruffles under the rim. She also has a white half-apron with several pockets tied to her waist by dark pink cord, which also holds a light brown pouch. She has one skinned knee showing above her flowery pink-and-white socks, and red stompy boots. She is smiling out of the corner of her mouth. Wrapping around her legs is Cool Dog, her fox familiar, eyeing the viewer suspiciously.

As a child, she was extremely small at 100cm. She has a bowl cut and dimples. She wears an oversized yellow shirt with white stripes, the sleeves pushed up past her elbows, and orange dungarees. She has muddy red welly boots, and is wearing the lilac and green bracelet. She is grinning broadly with her eyes shut and holding her fists up near her chest.

Grandmother Wren is an old witch standing at about 155cm with light brown skin and frizzy grey-and-white-streaked hair and brown eyes. She is wearing a dark purple witch's hat with a golden buckle and a curling tip, a knitted lilac shawl around her shoulders, and a cable-knit yellow sweater. She is wearing a stripy half-apron over a floor-length patchwork skirt, and is leaning on a gnarled wooden cane with both hands. She is smiling ruefully. Taro, her rooster familiar, is standing on the brim of her hat.

2. A cropped version of the same drawing, this time including Eursulon's glamoured forms. His glamoured form is a Black human, resembling Suvi as if he were her brother, although his eyes remain hazel and his hair is ginger instead of dark brown. He has dark brown freckles on his face and a gap in his front teeth, although the gap can only be seen in his childhood glamour as he is smiling. As an adult, the glamour is dressed identically to the unglamoured form although he's shorter by about 25cm, and his hair is braided back neatly into a bun. He also has some facial hair on his sideburns. As a child, his hair is shorter and styled into mini locs, and he is wearing a white shirt and green shorts, though still barefoot. He is about 15cm shorter than his unglamoured form.

3. A cropped version of the remaining lineup, showing Suvi, Ame & Cool Dog, and Grandmother Wren & Taro. /end ID]

#worlds beyond number #the wizard the witch and the wild one #twtwatwo #wbn art #suvirin kedberiket #ame the witch #eursulon toma #grandmother wren #cool dog #taro the rooster #my art #things i made #image described

[asksythe]

MXTX Interview with Risa Wataya for Subaru Magazine P.3

Risa Wataya: So that’s how it is. Although Lan WangJi is very quiet, he always uses practical actions to protect Wei WuXian's feelings. He’s a character that makes people feel sincere and earnest. I also really liked the scene where he couldn't beat the alcohol and drank until he lost self-control.

Mo Xiang: Lan Wangji is a cute person! Although he is stubborn and cold and not easy for strangers to approach on the outside, but when he loves someone, he is innocent (*) and sensitive, like a teenage girl. He will cry. He will be shy, jealous, and hesitant. He will worry and fret by himself... I like gong like this! The weakness to wine is to show this cute side of Lan Wangji. I think childish gongs are very cute.

(*: the word used here is chun de 纯的. It means ‘pure’ in the mental and emotional sense. As in his love and his feelings are pure and have no other motives or agendas. It’s not pure/innocent as in... well... we all know Lan Wangji’s sexual awakening involves a dream about him r***-ing Wei Wuxian so... It’s not that kind of innocent.)

Risa Wataya: On his forehead, he wears a forehead band, like a headband in Japan. The fact that the forehead band symbolizes self-restraint is also very interesting.

Mo Xiang: In reality, the forehead band also frequently appears on the costumes of classical Chinese literature. So I think it is a kind of ancient Chinese aristocratic jewelry, to emphasize Gusu Lan Shi's nobility (*) but without giving too much meaning at that time… However, later upon investigation, I found that in ancient China, there was a "ceremonial stoicism" (**) of ethics and etiquette, which is also reflected in clothing and jewelry. For example, "hairpin", which means "proper/virtuous posture"... When walking, if the hairpin makes a sound, you need to adjust your posture. Although the exposure of the forehead does not seem to have special meaning, "binding" is reminiscent of "self-restraint.” After considering the behavioral ethics of the ancient Chinese, I developed this “restraint oneself” setting.

(*: the wording here does not actually mean nobility as in a ranking or social class of the time, but in the feelings evoked by Gusu Lan Shi, in the way they conduct themselves, restrain themselves, deny themselves extreme power, in the goals and standards they set for themselves, in the ways they treat other common people in a time where China had an extremely rigid nine-ranked caste system and extensive slave class and slavery system. A sense of beyond the petty squabbles of common mortals. In other words, nobility from the bones)

(**: 礼服克己 Lifu Keji: an ancient manifested philosophy and a type of Asian ascetism where a practitioner must conduct his life, from the smallest, most insignificant details, with extreme restraint and control.) 

Risa Wataya: Ah, so that’s how it is. The plot related to the forehead band is quite interesting. Although looking at the full text, there are a lot of sorrowful, tragic parts, but after adding such interesting details, the mood becomes much lighter.

Mo Xiang: If it's all torture (*), my readers will run away. By the way, the “Aside from the destined person, other people cannot touch the forehead band” detail is something I suddenly thought of during the writing process. I often read classical Chinese martial arts novels (wuxia). The female characters often appear on screen and say: "You have seen my face. You must marry me." "Or "You touch my hand, you're responsible!" (**) But I thought, "Why do women always have to say this?"

(*: modern Chinese slang. It literally means ‘reverse/mistreat.’ It denotes ‘sad, sorrowful’ tones in stories that will make you cry buckets and run away screaming or require times in therapy (Ask the folks reading Erha. They will tell you all about it). Chinese stories are often marked with either ‘mistreat’ or ‘sweet’ to tell readers the tone of the stories. Alternative slangs are ‘glass shards’ and ‘candies.’ It’s a very popular modern Chinese writing technique to mix glass shards and candies, and it’s generally believed there are no great stories without ‘glass shards’ in them. The readers need to cry to remember the stories you are telling. So the vast majority of modern Chinese literature is of the ‘glass shards mixed in candies’ variety. Have fun!)  

(**: Common trope in Wuxia and Xianxia genre. This stems from the strict sexual segregation of ancient China and the rigid customs imposed on women. For thousands of years in China, up until the last one hundred years, it was very normal for daughters of wealthy families to never step foot outside their house, or even their personal wing inside their house, until the day of their wedding. And after their wedding, this process is repeated in their husband’s house.

The traditional saying is that there are only three places for women in this world: the ancestral hall, the kitchen, and the bedroom. This saying is even repeated by Jiang Cheng when talking about Jiang Yanli in the novel.

There’s a lot of emphasis on women maintaining extreme unstained virtue. So there used to be ridiculous things like if you see an unwed woman’s face, then you must take responsibility for her, and so forth. In particular dynasties, it also wasn’t strange for blood feuds or even all-out war to occur because some random dudes saw some particularly protected woman’s face… or touch her hair or that sort of thing.)

"So I wanted to try the same setup on the male character Lan Wangji, adding meaning to the forehead band. That moment when one’s ethics and ceremonial morality codes are broken. This feeling of hysterical panic and discombobulation applied to a male character might be very interesting indeed!” (*)

(*: tone / word choice is especially gleeful at seeing Lan Wangji metaphorically having his chastity slip being stolen by Wei Wuxian)    

Translator note: Hmm, this part the vocabulary is a bit more complex and needing extra explanations than the previous two. I worry that a lot of lingual concepts don’t match up to the English words, or that the same concepts don’t exist at all. Ergo, the abundance of notes. I hope it’s not too disruptive.

That said, after this part 3, I will have to stop for a few days. The reason is because... I have to wait (and beg) for the scan of the next page in the interview. You might not know this, but this interview with MXTX was rumored by Japanese fans for a long time. The result is when it was confirmed, the May-June edition of Subaru magazine was sold out in minutes! People queued up for hours and could not buy it. The magazine originally retails for about 10 USD. But now there are people reselling it for 70 USD and there are plenty of people queuing up to buy those too! So of course... even had I tried... I still would not be able to get even a finger nail on this edition. 

Luckily! I am in this Vietnamese MXTX fan group. A “rich sister” in there was able to acquire a copy and shared a scanned page with the rest of us. The magazine is something of a collector item now, much clout, very envy!! That kind! So the rest of us peons have to wait for the next scanned pages. 

To Be Continued (Pray for me...) 

#mdzs #MXTX #Interview #Translation #lan wangji #lan zhan

[convenientalias]

Good Books I Read In 2023, Placed In Specific Categories

Inspired by this post by @barbwritesstuff.

Gay and kind of depressing literary fiction.

This is always a genre I'm reading, honestly. These two also have kind of an ensemble cast feel, and multiple queer couples involved.

An artificial intelligence controlled by a terrible government/corporate entity, who has committed much violence in the past but now would basically prefer to avoid casualties, has gained independence and is now working for its own goals.

The similarity here was actually kind of a problem for me bc, reading Ancillary Justice too soon after reading some Murderbot books, I was expecting more humor and badassery from the AI main character, less introspection and tragic backstory. I had to take a break from it and go back to reading it with a fresher mind. Both are very good, though I have yet to read the rest of the Ancillary Justice series.

Self published queer fantasy involving kidnapping/captivity.

These books are not actually that similar but kidnapping is a favorite trope of mine and they all have it in their own way. The Siren's Familiar and Shards of Ice have kind of a rescuing-your-boyfriend-from-kidnappers type plot. Our Bloody Pearl has a pirate-captor/rescuer-enemies-to-lovers type plot.

And Bonds of Hate, which is my favorite of the four, is also the darkest and the most fucked up, with a central couple that not only features kidnapping but also rape, incest, and general abuse. It's a dark book in general--the series has been compared to Game of Thrones, and while I have never read/watched Game of Thrones and have a hard time judging, it definitely has that edgy, grimdark political intrigue feel to it. Definitely a unique read for me.

Melancholy Asian literary fiction.

Please Look After Mom is the standout here for me. I love Shin Kyung-sook's writing in general, and Please Look After Mom is the kind of book that sends you on a soul searching journey about whether you appreciate the people in your life and whether you understand them. Also the saddest of the four so watch out.

Speculative fiction where main character handles fragile diplomatic relations between two peoples, with a lot of loyalty and culture clash.

The Foreigner series has been one of my obsessions this year. I'm reading book 7 currently, and the political intrigue is so consistent and high quality, it's really something. But the Tuyo series was also a highlight for me! It has better slashiness and whump if that's what you're looking for in your fantasy novels about complicated diplomatic relations.

I have yet to finish either series but I'm working on it!

This woman is obsessed with birds.

Okay Untethered Sky and Migrations don't have much in common but I loved them both and. Birds.

I'd recommend any of these books! If you've read any of them or if they look interesting to you, or if you know more good books in any of these categories, pls tell me about it!

#books #book recs

[2af-afterdark]

As someone who was raised in an Asian household, I can use chopsticks decently(not the most optimal but at least I can eat food with it.)

This made me think of how Mammon and my mc vibing and eating with chopsticks, while Satan over there just fiddling with his trying to figure out how to even hold it.

Just a lil thought cause it's cute imagining a confused Satan.

-🐰

I'm sorry to say, but Satan broke his plate trying to stab the food with his chopsticks. Mammon tried to replace it so he could try again, but the plate shattered into small shards that time. The chopsticks then broke in his hands because of his pure hot rage. Everyone should flee the vicinity before things get worst and hot, delicious food goes flying across the room.

There were 8 casualties that day...

#❖ 🐰 anon #love letters ❤️ #talkin' whb #whb satan

[thecrazyworldbuilder]

I have a draft for a novel series and while worldbuilding I got into some deep stuff linguistics-wise.

In-universe, there's many relations of languages through borrowing and evolution. Ancient empires living on through united linguistic features.

Elves are oriental, and their mainstream language is adapted from Tolkien's works to be more Japanese-like, and dialects are present that are similar to Standard Chinese and Korean (possibly, one similar to Mongolian too).

There's a language of Angels which influences most of Human languages, which by itself has some adapted variations and dialects within it.

Dwarves/gnomes are South-Asian inspired, because like. Have you seen Indian temples carved from monolithic rock. That's the shit. But they have this complex evolution of language that should somehow make their Nordic ancestry turn more Hindi-inspired.

Humans... Man. There's an ancient Adamid proto-empire, which broke eventually and was later on succeeded by the Romulan empire. That one brought more linguistic unity to the lands, creating this kind of "common" language, think Vulgar Latin, a lingua franca that lived on and kept being used by folks. The Romulan culture legacy stayed in two-three larger nations since the fall, the languages of which are inspired by said Vulgar Latin and Greek thus. Yeeet, there's the Nords and their derivatives, Bretons (English ppl basically) and Revenlandian (French), as well as Stlandian (that's bit more tricky to explain). And their "empire" was that or Artr (Bretonized as "Arthur"). The nordic linguistic circle is a whole other thing from the human languages influenced by the Elves, Angels and the Romulan empire.

Modern Hellenia in the setting is one shard of the Romulans who rule in democratic city-states. Wisteria is another shard, which itself became a lesser empire later on in history. From Hellenia another empire sprouted, too, the Xerian empire.

Man.

It's so complex at this point, hell.

#worldbuilding #fantasy worldbuilding #world creation #Lenedos #linguistics #conlanging

[jeidafei]

Komui's Lounge: Vol. 28 (Part 4/4)

>> Part 1

>> Part 2

>> Part 3

Q16: I would like to know if Hoshino-sensei ever felt super hyped while drawing a scene?

Hoshino: Lavi’s “Infinite Flame!! (火加減無し!!)” scene (vol.13)

(T/N: Lavi vs Road battle, below)

Lavi: Whoa! Hoshino just popped outta nowhere!

Allen: Goes to show we’re already screwed in regards to the word count, I guess.

Hoshino: If you know, then watch it!

Reever: She was also pretty hyped during Krory’s “I don’t need no coffin” scene, as well (Vol.11). (T/N: Krory vs Jasdevi battle. Thanks @looniecartooni for the raw!)

Q17: So Jasdevi has been called “monster” before?

Lenalee: Krory did mention them when we had a tea party some time ago. “Those Noah twins and I, we’re similar, so I have this feeling we’d meet again someday,” he said. I guess he must have been thinking what you’re thinking at some point.

Lavi: They’re weirdly simple-minded for their age. I guess it’s possible they’re nursing a wound in their heart.

Q18: Are there ever instances where a new accommodator eventually appeared for the Innocence shards of exorcists who died in the line of duty?

Reever: Yeah. Loads of them, in fact. Next!

Lavi: That was quick!

Allen: Mr. Reever, are they that strict about the word count limit this time?

Reever: The designer’s already at their limit from the looks of it, Allen. Whether we get to do this Lounge again next volume could depend on this!

Q19: Does Fo consume human food?

Allen: Fo doesn’t eat anything. That’s what I’ve heard back at the Asian Branch.

Lavi: Aaah, the Asian Branch’s Guardian Deity system is so interesting, really. Even Bookmen of old regarded the Chang Clan as a subject requiring special attention. Any clues on why they had their guardian deity take the form of a young lady?

Allen and Lenalee: Eh? No.

Kanda: …Didn’t Branch Head Bak’s great-grandfather who created the Guardian Deity system have it take the form of his late daughter?

Lavi: Wait, so Yu knew!

Reever: Who have you heard that from, Kanda?

Kanda: Alma said so.

Q20: A question for Allen-kun! If Kanda and General Cross were drowning in a river and you could save only one, whom would you save?

Reever: Al~righty!! Let’s wrap it up with this question.

Lavi: Welp, can’t be helped!! Welp, can’t be helped!! (T/N: Try reading it with a rhythm XD)

Allen: There must have been a better one in there! Come on!

Lenalee: Looks like Ms. Hoshino’s so nervous about the word count, she’s on the verge of a panic attack…(sweating). Let’s make do with this one for her, okay?

Kanda: If she’s gonna panic that much, then don’t do this Lounge thing, then.

Allen: No can do, huh…Or rather, these two don’t look like they’d ever find themselves drowning, seriously! Erm...Let’s see…I’ll save Master.

Lavi: And your reason behind that?!

Allen: Because Master could’ve been squirreling away the secret stash I’ve been saving!

Reever: Aaaaand we’re done! Thank you so much for being with us today! Now break it up! Chop chop! (Two big handclaps)

Lenalee: Would be nice if we managed to scrape a pass on the word count this time.

Allen: Which I reckon…we probably didn’t…

Lavi: Gave it our best shot, though……Alas, poor Hoshino……

Closing T/N:

Aaaand that’s it! Thank you so much for all your comments and tags. I had so much fun reading them.

@shashaspeaks The original Japanese dialogue for Allen cussing is the following:

ラビてめぇこの野郎なに口走ってんだよコラァ（ドス声）

(Rabi temee kono yarou nani kuchi hashitten dayo koraa//threatening voice).

It’s written with no punctuation, likely indicating he said it all in one breath XD.

//Don’t even get me started on Lenalee’s records gaaaaah what’s up now, Hoshino-sensei?!!

@candy-crackpot Again, thanks for the raws! Also super happy someone got my sneaky ATLA reference XD.

//Don’t worry, I know Komurin’s weakness is at the nape.

//Nah I think Cross is fascinated by the heartbeat of living beings precisely because he doesn’t have one. /ooooohh I think General Tiedoll would have approved of that burn.

//Highest Sci. Div. turnover rate prolly during Akuma Egg arc /oof!

@sauvechouris Yeah, I’m confused about the “kids OK but lovers NO-K” thing too. Like aren’t kids supposed to be even harder to leave behind, idk? LOL poor Bookman’s children, must have been one hell of a Daddy’s Issue for you all. Anyway, Past!Allen is Bookman’s kid headcanon anyone lmao?

@metiredlr YAAAAAAS MILF LINK

#d gray man #dgm #dgrayman #d gray #komuislounge #komui's lounge #dgm vol 28

[chaikachi]

Hi, Chai! I've been following you for a bit, mostly for the RG content, and I've recently seen you talk about your other non-RWBY interests when I realized that I'm really curious on what other media do you like? (Be it shows, movies, music, games, books, etc.)

Oughh this is a very good question. I'll put them under a read more cause I have a feeling I took this question too literally and it might get just a little bit long because of that. 💦

I'm generally very passive with the media I consume and only draw as much RWBY as I do because RG has had me in a vice grip since V8E1 and isn't letting go anytime soon. 💀 But I do engage with lots of other stuff too! This isn't an exhaustive list, just ones I like lots or re-watch often enough.

Anime

I probably watch this stuff more than anything else. My favourite of all time is probably The Eccentric Family, both seasons. The art direction and the messages of the story just hit very hard for me and I re-watch it pretty much every year. My second favourite is Kekkai Sensen (i prefer the first over second season as they switch directors).

As for others enjoy:

Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood

Silver Spoon

Yona of the Dawn

Snow White with the Red Hair

Kyousogiga (recommend if you liked Kekkai Sensen)

A Lull in the Sea

Chaika the Coffin Princess [Now why does that name sound so familiar 🤔]

Anohana

Been really enjoying this season's shows and am looking forward to the Winter 2024 lineup (Dungeon Meshi and Yubisaki to Renren at the same time!!)

Shows

Dragon Prince

The Owl House

Good Omens

Games

Nier (2010),

Transistor

Pyre

Zelda Series (Ocarina of Time & Spirit Tracks are my favourites)

Nier: Automata

Honorary mentions to Grand Chase (an old MMO i used to be obsessed with), Avalon Code (a niche DS game that I really liked), Fire Emblem Awakening (a classic) and Animal Crossing (that I played like it was my day job in 2020).

Movies

Can only think of two live actions and the rest are animated/anime 😭

Stardust

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

Howl's Moving Castle

HTTYD (1 & 2)

Kubo and the Two Strings

The Wind Rises

From Up on Poppy Hill

Penguin Highway

Books

I don't read as much as I did when I was a kid, but my top three are probably Runemarks, Howl's Moving Castle, and Stardust (I like the last two a lot because I liked their movies).

Webcomics

Used to be really into these and wanted to write my own before Webtoon kinda... gentrified the entire industry. But hey, I can still talk about some of my favourites!

Shaderunners (queer heist in a roaring 20sish setting)

Witchy (queer south East Asian inspired fantasy adventure)

Kochab (sapphic story between a skier that gets lost and meets a fire spirit I think? It's final updates are going up this month!)

Lady of the Shard (all time favourite. queer polyam lovestory between a goddess and her acolyte. Complete. I reread it every year, I love it so much. The rest of the authors work is also great, you might know them from Cucumber Quest).

Then lastly...

Music

I mostly listen to indie/folk more than anything else, with a bit of jazz/R&B thrown in for flavour. Favourite artists are probably:

San Fermin

Flock of Dimes/Wye Oak

Of Monsters & Men

Maggie Rogers

Florence & the Machine

Paper Kites

Matthew and the Atlas

Halsey

This list obviously isn't exhaustive because I have the memory of a goldfish but those are the highlights that came to mind at least.

Sorry for the long list, but thank you for the question!! It was fun to put all these in one place.

#ask #asks #anon #anono #long post

[adria-479]

Do you know why sesshomaru refused to join forces with kagura when she tried to offer him the jewel shards to kill Naraku?

Hello and Thank you for your question.♡

While I do not have an official answer to give you, I believe that Sesshomaru felt confident in his ability as The Most Superior Demon and that any help would most definitely be Unnecessary and Entirely Beneath Him.

I am also a Hopeless Romantic and therefore also saw it as a way for him to keep her safer by keeping her out of the way of the fued between Him and Naraku. I do believe Sesshomaru has always been attuned with Kagura and that there has never been a time when he didn't find her audacity Charming and Brave.

For me Sesshomaru is much like The Honorable Integrity of the Asian people as a whole. How they do not openly argue and are very soft spoken but Firm In Their Convictions. ♡

I hope this answer is helpful to understanding the complexity of Sesshomaru and the depth of love I feel for these characters and that it helps shed some light on your question.✨️💕✨️

#sesskagu #sesshomaru #kagura

[anneapocalypse]

They’re all pretty related, so in case you want to merge or skip some: I’m curious about 9, 20, 21, and 22 for 🔥 choose violence 🔥

For the 🔥choose violence 🔥 ask game!

Disclaimer: provocative name aside, I am not actually trying to be mean here, these are just my opinions offered for Entertainment Purposes™️, and I’m not mad at anyone who has a different opinion.

9. worst part of canon

The lack of forethought about representation when the series began. The first game was like, "Seven skin tints! The dark ones looks Bad in our engine! Your family is white no matter what! Brown people are from Over There somewhere! Asians????" Since then, I think the games have each improved on that situation, with increasingly better character creators, more diverse companions, and a more diverse world generally. But I think that there's still a lot lacking, and part of that is because the first installment laid a pretty weak foundation, so all subsequent canon is having to correct for better representation rather than building on a strong start. A few big things I would love to see in DA:D are a better variety of hair textures and styles, a better variety of Asian features in the CC, and more Asian (coded) characters in the world generally since that's an area where it's really been lacking. (Lighting that doesn't wash out medium skin tones to ghosts wouldn't hurt either 😉 but when it comes to video game lighting I assume that we'll just be trading one problem for another. I look forward to experiencing a New Problem.)

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

Inquisition's Too Many Collectibles. I don't mind collectibles, especially when there's an actual reward for collecting them, but Inquisition just has too many. Was it really necessary for us to discover landmarks and regions? Like, could those not have been the same thing? It's fun to treasure hunt and everything but did we need to hunt for astrariums and shards and mosaic tiles and bottles? None of those things are bad on their own, but there's such a thing as Too Much, and I think Inquisition crosses that line somewhere.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

Marrying Alistair to become Queen! Like, that's fine if that's the ending you want. Me, I've romanced Alistair multiple times and I've never felt like becoming Queen Cousland was like, the Ultimate Ending to that story. My first ever Warden, Jolene, was a Cousland who romanced Alistair, and while I'd watched Mr. Apocalypse play parts of the game, I was unspoiled for the romance, so I wasn't gunning for any particular ending, and because Alistair clearly didn't want to be king and because he seemed so uncertain of what would happen to their relationship (despite her being a perfectly valid candidate for queen), Jo ended up deciding to let Anora keep the throne and ride off into the sunset with Alistair. I wanted a happy ending for that first run and to me, that seemed the happiest for both of them.

Since then I've also done a tragic Alistair romance with an Aeducan, who starts out a real asshole and has kind of a redemption arc as a Warden, culminating in her giving Alistair the throne because she believes it's his destiny, and sacrificing herself to kill the archdemon because she knows she can never be his queen. I loved that one too! It was so juicy.

I'm not opposed to Queen Cousland or anything, I just remember a time when it was so venerated as the ending for Origins. Really, I just don't think of any outcome in an RPG that way. What I enjoy is exploring all the possibilities.

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

Once again, consider "everyone" to be a bit hyperbolic, but I am really, really interested in the politics of the setting, something I think maybe a lot of fans consider to be boring or "not that deep." 😂 Dragon Age does not always handle its power and oppression narratives perfectly, for sure, but I also think a lot of the worldbuilding shows a level of understanding of structural power that it maybe doesn't always get credit for. When a group is marginalized in this setting we can identify actual systemic barriers to social advancement for that group, not just "people being mean" on an individual level like you sometimes see in lazier narratives. Orlais isn't just fancier and snootier than Ferelden; it actually has more barriers to upward mobility in place! Society is more stratified, and power is more concentrated, even though both nations are monarchies.

I love the fantasy politics--of people in day to day life, of factions, of nations, of religion. I love it because, at its best, Dragon Age does have some interesting things to say about the nature of power. It's easy to say "Chantry bad" or "nobility bad," but to me it's much more interesting to explore why these institutions function the way they do, the ways in which they concentrate power, and the means they employ to keep it. And controversial statement, maybe, but you can't effectively explore the politics of revolution and social change without understanding the structures you're trying to change. Sera's right about one thing: it's not as simple as just lopping off the top.

#ask anne #peforby #ask meme #choose violence ask game #dragon age critical #blunders of thedas #thedas politics

[delivish]

side effects may include: snippet

ypiac and werewolf bunny snippets here soon!!

His mom had bought him a fresh pack of multicolored rubber bands for his braces. 

Craig took his time picking out the colors he wanted (green, because green always reminded him of Tweek, and the orange was a no-brainer) and carefully applied them exactly where the orthodontist had shown him. He’d only had the braces for a week or two, and his jaw still hurt a little bit, but the deep ache he’d felt when he first got them had mostly faded, thank goodness. 

Dr. Shue — the orthodontist — had told him that some pain was to be expected, especially in the beginning and after every appointment to have them tightened. He could suck on ice cubes or popsicles or gargle warm salt water until he felt a little better, but above all, he needed to practice good oral hygiene, and Craig had been doing just that. Gargling salt water had struck him as a rather dubious method and was nowhere near as soothing as the popsicles, but, Craig had to admit, it’d worked. Dr. Shue was going to be so impressed with how well he had followed his directions. Dr. Shue was really nice, not at all like the “trumped-up quack” his dad had accused him of being. His mom had told him not to pay attention to his dad; “He’s just mad he had to spend a little fucking money. And on his own kid, at that. What else is new?” 

Craig bared his teeth when he was done, nodded in satisfaction, stuck his hands under the faucet, and ran his damp fingers through his hair to smooth down the flyaways. He was meeting Tweek in the park today, and he wanted to look his best. 

He dressed quickly: a pair of jeans with holes torn in the knees, his favorite Red Racer tee-shirt, a vintage-style bomber jacket with a NASA logo patch sewn on the back that his mom had picked up for 15 bucks at Goodwill. The bomber jacket was at least three sizes too big for him, and he got funny looks whenever he wore it around town, but his mom assured him that he’d grow into it. He had never loved his mother more than he did the moment she pulled that jacket out of the Goodwill bag. Craig started to reach for his chullo hat and thought better of it; spring had officially sprung in South Park. It was still cold enough to see your breath puffing in front of your face in the mornings, but the thick layer of snow that had blanketed the ground for the past three or four months had melted down to dirty slush, and there were hard, green buds on all the trees.

Craig turned to his desk and carefully studied the handful of semi-precious stones he had lined up there with all the aplomb of a sommelier preparing to sample wine. He had gotten a rock tumbler for Christmas and had been tumbling the rocks that had come with the kit for weeks now, polishing them until they were smooth and shiny. Craig picked them up one by one: a chunk of pink agate with milky eyelets, a thumb-sized piece of jasper so yellow it was like holding the sun in your hand, shards of quartz in a rainbow assortment of colors. He picked up the last stone almost reverently; it was a feldspar, ocean-blue, shot-through with swirls of white and green. Craig tucked the feldspar deep in the pocket of his jeans. 

He rode his bike hard to the park, skidding through puddles and crunching over last winter’s dead leaves. Craig slowed when he got to the playground, looked around, and saw Tweek sitting on the swings by himself, slowly kicking his heels back and forth. 

Craig paused. Tweek hadn’t noticed him yet, his gaze absently fixed on something in the distance. Craig gawked at the other boy, his heart slamming in his chest, breathless in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with his frantic bike ride over; he hardly ever got a chance to do this, because Tweek hated when he caught him staring, but gosh, he just couldn’t help himself sometimes. Tweek was so, so pretty — he’d thought so even before the Asian girls started shipping them together, desperate and helpless, filled with a shame that had been entirely his father’s doing. He wasn’t supposed to think other boys were pretty. If he did, he was a fag, and according to his dad, that was one of the worst things you could be. Thomas had come to accept their relationship — grudgingly — but sometimes, when his dad looked at him, Craig could feel him thinking it: fag.

Craig shook off those thoughts, admiring the wild strands of his boyfriend’s platinum blond hair, the way the early morning sunlight turned it to finely spun silver and gold; Tweek shivered like a Chihuahua in a high wind, kind of looked like one, too, with his large, deep-set eyes, but Craig really liked how big they were, how green they were, like chunks of uncut malachite, the way his dark circles only made them more vivid, the way Tweek was tall and thin and stoop-shouldered and angular everywhere, but had the most graceful hands. Tweek was full of contrasts, like holding a bit of unpolished rock in his hands, feeling all the interesting textures. 

Craig took a breath, got off his bike, and rolled it over to Tweek’s spot on the swing. Tweek whipped his head around, wide-eyed with panic, saw him, and relaxed by turns, gradually unclenching his jaw and lowering his shoulders. Craig smiled. Tweek didn’t, but that wasn’t unusual. 

“Hi, sweetie,” he said. Craig had a bunch of pet names for Tweek: sweetie, pookie, muffin, pumpkin (never baby or babe; he wasn’t sure why, it just didn’t feel as interesting). He liked the way the names felt in his mouth, the way they rolled off his tongue, filled with endearment: sweetie, sweetie, sweetie. 

“Hi — hi, Craig,” Tweek murmured. 

#WIP #SP Creek #Craig Tucker #Tweek Tweak #this scene feels like it belongs to another fic than what i have planned ajsjdhdhdk #My writing