#6. i might be projecting but ‘how the fuck is one so evil left to just proceed’ hits HARD when i think of an ex-friend who was abusive to me

[fieldsofbone]

i have so many thoughts about this andy / ashley thing that i have to number them lmao

1. i briefly suspected that ‘devil’ might have been about ashley but admittedly didn’t give it much thought (i was more focused on how much of a fucking banger it is), but andy changing the lyrics to “come sell me useless bitcoin”, ashley’s response, and andy’s subsequent tweet + IG story confirming it make the lines “you left with a crawl / the end was worth the wasted days” so much more BITING? HELLO?

2. “farewell to vanished fraud / so here comes the fall / your blood has all been washed away” is of course pretty easy to interpret and understand wrt the situation with ashley and the band, but “your blood has all been washed away” is particularly compelling and poignant as black veil is now three years removed from any association with him and they’ve had three albums, multiple tours, live shows, etc. and have only grown in stature and audience since

3. ashley’s response is obviously pathetic and embarrassing, but him saying “i’m not surprised now why so many no longer listen to the band” is very funny when juxtaposed with the music video for ‘devil’, which is entirely made up of live footage of the LEGIONS of fans waiting in unbelievably long lines outside the venue, packing it to capacity, swarming the guys at the airport, and clearly ecstatic to see the band

4. i don’t want to be too tinfoil hat-like and/or assume or infer andy’s feelings about a situation i obviously only know a fraction about, but something i keep thinking about is how betrayed and exploited by ashley andy must have felt. i’m sure the wounds have healed, but how young andy was when he met ashley, how much older ashley was / is than andy, how initially integral he was to the band’s early commercial days (if even only to steer it away from andy’s vision), ashley’s personality in general, etc. must have made the friction and fallout especially painful, even if it was for the best and a clear relief for everyone in black veil. if i recall correctly, ‘throw the first stone’ and ‘devil’ are the only songs confirmed to be about ashley (though i think ‘the shattered god’ is heavily and rightfully suspected to be), so taking the aforementioned dynamics with these lyrics from ‘throw the first stone’… whew

[purriteen]

Ad victor spolia, chapter one

content warnings: incest, manipulation, eventual Stockholm Syndrome, toxic & dark!Coriolanus Snow (as if that isn't his default), named!reader, ANGST, eventual smut, non-con, age gap (5-6 years)

author’s note: this takes place roughly six years after the events of TBOSAS. technically proofread but might not be my best work. reader is 18-19, Coriolanus is 24

*reader is meant to be the baby sister that canonically died in childbirth but I say she didn’t cause fuck it.

word count: 3,297

Next chapter

Your brother hadn't been the same ever since he returned from the districts. You knew that, and you’d done your best to avoid him. For the most part that had been easy, considering how busy he was with building his career. You, of course, weren’t particularly fond of his line of work, but you supposed the games were just another necessary evil in this world. At least that’s what your family had instilled in you.

Being the youngest of the bunch, Coryo and Tigris, your brother and cousin respectively, had always been keeping secrets from you, and that hadn’t really changed. Back then you hated being kept in the dark, but nowadays.. you get the feeling they were doing you a favour, to some extent.

Soon after Coryo’s return, your cousin had initially started to distance herself - you couldn't blame her. However, grandma'am's health was starting to deteriorate as of late, which meant all three of you had to be there. It shattered your heart to see her like this, especially as you had to weather the storm all on your own. Only now that time was running out had the two of them bothered to show. So here you were. You were sat on a chair next to the plush bed she was laid on, fast asleep. Coriolanus stood next to you, whilst Tigris was hunched over the bed from the other side of the room. Having cared for her for the past six months, ever since you graduated, you were suddenly reminded of their continuous absence. They had abandoned you, left you all on your own to take care of yours and their grandma’am, and only now that she was nearing her end did they decide to bless you with their presence. It left a stinging feeling within you.

As Tigris stroked her hair, you couldn't help but break into tears. You'd been caring for her all alone for so long now, with the two of them focused on their respective careers. You didn’t want to cry, you wanted to shut both of them out, but you couldn’t stop the tears from welling over even in front of them. 

You knew how ashamed Grandma’am was that her Coriolanus had essentially become the charity project of the Plinths, out of all people. Before she really started to lose grasp of reality she’d go on and on about how he had replaced his own blood and flesh with those district dogs. How he would be the end of the great Snow dynasty. You didn’t want to add fuel to the fire, but you simply couldn’t help but feel that there was some truth to what she was saying. At least Tigris still bothered to show up for your Sunday dinners, back when Grandma’am was still well enough. But your own brother, he’d abandoned you, and now he had the gall to show up here and pretend to grieve. And you were sure he’d continue to pretend that he was still her darling grandson as soon as she had passed. All to save face as always. You felt a cold, firm hand on your shoulder, pulling you close to his chest. You shivered in his embrace, but he ignored it and simply petted your hair. What normally might’ve calmed you down felt robotic, unnatural, coming from him. You didn’t want his hands anywhere near you.

"Hessie?" Tigris' soft voice sounded out, reaching across the bed to hold your hand. You felt your brother tensing up behind you. He always hated that nickname. "I've got her. Just stay here with grandma'am." Not giving you a chance to speak for yourself, he soon ushered you out of the room, his hand on the small of your back as he guided you into your own. 

You hadn't slept in your own bed for days. In fear that something would happen when you weren’t with her, you didn't want to leave her alone even for a moment, so when you did get the chance to rest, it would always be in the velvet armchair you'd practically been glued to as of late. Coriolanus could tell you were nearing your limit.

He closed the door behind him, gesturing for you to sit down on the bed. Unlike you he remained on his feet, leaning back against the secretaire. You twiddled with your thumbs as you waited for him to speak, avoiding eye contact. Still he could see the tears steadily flowing down your cheeks. "Hersilia." His voice was stern, making you straighten up a little to meet his gaze. Still, the look on his face softened as he took in the sight of you. You appeared even more dishevelled than when he first got here. Unsure where to begin, he carefully sat down next to you, right on the edge of your bed. "I'm sorry. I never intended to let you handle this all on your own, you're aware I've had a lot on my plate, with president Ravinstill's declining health and all.." He began, and your jaw clenched at what he was insinuating.

"How can you even speak of that whole ordeal while your own grandmother is on her deathbed just a couple rooms away?” you interrupted, the words falling off your tongue before you could even think twice about it. “Look at yourself, Coryo, I can't even recognise you anymore. you're using a man's impending death to gain political power for yourself!" you paused, breathing in, "not even your bootlicking old self would’ve went that far," you let out a humourless chuckle, the sadness in your eyes replaced by disbelief.

He deeply inhaled, stretching out his hand to grasp at yours, but you instinctively pulled away from him. You opened your mouth as if to speak again, but this time he cut you off. "I've spoken to her doctors already. They gave her a couple days at most. Tigris refused, but I'll be moving back in with you until further notice. They worry you’ll be too struck with grief to live on your own once everything has gone down.” He spoke so harshly, as if trying to punish you with that new piece of information. You struggled to process these news. You wanted to protest, to point out that Tigris would never have said no to that, would never have abandoned you like that. But she already had, and so had he. And the knowledge that Grandma'am would soon no longer be with you - even if you thought you'd been prepared - left you in shock. You couldn't stop the tears from bubbling up again, and no longer having the strength to protest, you finally allowed your brother to hold you in his arms again, enveloping you in the dizzying scent of roses.

It had been almost a year since then. your brother had bounced back much faster than you, but he'd stuck around to ‘take care of you’. Whenever he wasn't busy with work, at least. You didn't know how to feel about his presence.

Then the president’s death, and the subsequent elections, came around. In a way, you hoped your brother would win, so that he might move out. But you feared the tremendous boost in power and status it would bring him might only make him more demanding and rigid. 

You were right.

What's worse is, he'd made you move into the presidential palace with him. Something about presenting himself as a family man. Since he hadn't started one of his own yet, you were the closest he would get.

The high marble walls made the place feel cold and unwelcoming. It didn't help that Coriolanus was rarely home during the first couple of months. When he was, he'd be locked up in his home office. You were surrounded by cold, half-empty rooms and the staff he kept, many of whom couldn’t talk to you even if they were allowed to. It had been four months and three weeks, yet you still couldn't bring yourself to call this place home. 

Barely a month into his presidency, you'd been given a strict protocol to follow. He had forbidden you from seeing the vast majority of your closest friends, claiming it would reflect poorly on him and his public image. Apparently they weren't good enough to be seen with you. The ones that remained, he'd all found some excuse to cut out of your life eventually.

He wouldn't even let you see Tigris anymore. He'd assigned a maid to watch over you around the clock, although she felt more like a nanny. You almost felt bad for the girl. You supposed it paid well, though. With the support of Strabo Plinth and nearly the entire capitol, Coriolanus had plenty of money to spend. 

Not to mention that with your intense reaction to grandma'am's passing, which had lasted for months, the media had of course made you out to be much more fragile and emotional than you really were. You suspected that he had a hand to play in it. If you tried to tell anyone about how Coriolanus practically kept you locked up in here, they'd have every reason to brush it off. You were the labile little sister of their beloved president. Everything about the situation was in his favour.

The general consensus seemed to be that he was a good brother for protecting you and taking care of you, despite being some sort of mental case. You despised him for it.

You were surprised when you finally saw his car approaching the gates through your bedroom window. It was only four in the afternoon. He was never home this early. 

A chill ran down your spine when he stepped out of the backseat of the car, eyes almost immediately finding yours as you stood there. A smile formed on his lips when he spotted you, but it held nor invoked no warmth in you. 

You stepped back from the window, unable to stand to look at him any longer. His faux niceness nauseated you. The universe was just cruel for giving such a cold, vile man such charisma.

A couple minutes passed by, until you heard the familiar sound of the door opening and closing behind you. The faint smell of roses invaded your senses. You turned around to face him, your jaws and hands tense. The blonde was pleased to see you’d chosen to wear one of the dresses he personally bought for you today. Well, not that you had to actually choose - his staff assembled and laid out your clothes for the night and next day every night before you went to bed. He could tell you were struggling to adjust, but the cold demeanour you presented him with even now upset him. 

He hadn’t come home early just to get the cold shoulder. 

He plastered on a tight-lipped smile again, perhaps hoping to put you at ease, but after all these years you could easily call his bluff. You stayed silent, not breaking eye contact with him.

“We’re going out to eat tonight, Silia. I expect you will act appropriately.” He spoke, his words laced with that deceptively soft tone. A thinly veiled threat.

You took a few seconds to react, meekly nodding your head. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not even gonna talk to me?” More silence.

You watched the look on his face harden, before he sighed deeply and turned around, grabbing the handle of the door and leaving it half opened. He stopped to glance back at you over his shoulder. “You’re clearly not well enough to venture out yet. I’ll have Cardie tell them to deliver the food here.” He shut the door behind him before you could answer, leaving you even more upset. He’d only ever let you leave the house for any of his public appearances until now. Whenever he needed to have you on his arm to show a united front. Of course he’d take any excuse to keep it that way.

Dinner that night was awfully tense. He wouldn’t stop glaring at you from across the long, rectangular table. The dining room felt empty - all of this big extravagant furniture, with nobody but you two to use it - but you certainly didn’t mind the distance it put between the two of you. Clearly though, he did.

You’d excused yourself from the table after barely even finishing your appetiser. This annoyed him more than it should; he’d requested your favourite for dessert. And that sure wasn’t easy to find considering the scarcity of luxury ingredients that still had a hold on the nation.

He didn’t stay long before he got up and followed you. He’d taken you in, the trainwreck that you were without him, and carefully built the life you needed in order to flourish. All of this for you, and you still neglected your older brother. Granted, he hadn’t been around to spend time with you very often, but that was never part of the plan. 

You were supposed to crack, to fall apart once more before him. He didn’t want to hurt you, but you’d made it clear you wouldn’t give him a chance under normal circumstances. His only option was to break you down and build you right back up, mould you into exactly what he wanted you to be. You were supposed to need him, to come to him. Instead you were shutting him out. It infuriated him, but he wouldn't let you see him in that state.

You used to be just like your mother. Warm and caring and selfless. Coriolanus cherished recognizing pieces of her in you. He’d seen it when you were little, barely six years old, and still helped Tigris and grandma’am around the house. He’d seen it when you stayed home and looked after grandma’am those last few months. 

He wondered why you couldn’t be like that with him, the person who needed it the most. He imagined you’d be there to greet him at the door after those particularly stressful days and offer to make him tea and massage his shoulders. But that day never came, and you showed no signs of even beginning to open up to him.

By the time he’d reached your bedroom door, he needed to take a moment to collect himself. He’d unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and discarded his waistcoat on his way here, not even bothering to throw it down the laundry chute. Those avoxes were there for a reason. 

You jolted as you heard a steady knock on the tall white double doors to your bedroom. You already knew it was him; you could practically sense his frustration without taking a single glance at him.

When you didn’t react, he pushed down the handle and entered on his own volition. That cold glare he cast your way sent chills down your spine. He closed the door behind him and took some determined steps in your direction. You’d barely had time to settle down before he interrupted, still sitting on the edge of your burgundy canopy bed. You leaned back to rest on your elbows once he got a little too close, trying to pull away from him.

“Hersilia.” He spoke as he stared deep into your eyes, his voice cold and hard. You felt as if he was boring into your soul. His big hands planted on either side of you, trapping you beneath him, didn’t make you feel any less on edge. You silently scolded yourself for letting him get to you, willing yourself not to show any weakness.

“Coriolanus.” You returned his icy tone, carefully observing him as he struggled to read you. He wasn’t used to this. Knowing you could have that effect on him, give him a taste of his own medicine, was a surprising but welcome boost to your brittle ego.

He pulled back again, allowing you to straighten up. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he pulled himself together, that impeccable poker face once again gracing his face. The dim lighting vaguely illuminated his sharp features as he stood in front of you. You bore little resemblance to him, something you were almost grateful for. But you couldn’t deny he was just beautiful as he towered over you. Nature was cruel.

His voice sounded out again, bringing you back to reality. “I have been very tolerant the last couple of months. I know grandma’am’s passing hit you hard, and I know you’ve been struggling to adjust. But you cannot continue to shut me out.” You felt the resilience melting off of you as you took him in, making you feel small. You were starting to think his cold exterior wasn’t just a facade anymore. In so many ways, he was just like you remembered your father to be. Those fierce blue eyes completely devoid of empathy, his domineering nature, his incessant need for control. Only he was worse; your father never had this much influence, this much room to exert his cruelty.

Words were flowing out of your mouth again before you could even consider them. “Tolerant, is that what you call it? You’ve taken away any sense of normalcy I had left after losing Grandma’am. My friends, my home, my freedom, Tigris. I don’t even blame her for abandoning you, I should’ve done the same long ago!” You spat at him, cheeks heating up with anger. 

Shock flashed through Coriolanus’ eyes, soon morphing into anger. Before he could even think it through his hand was tangled in your loose hair, holding you in place as he pressed you against the tall bedframe, the cool metal digging into your spine.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You always take her side, but you don’t even know her. Our cousin is not the woman you think she is, Silia.” Chills wracked through you as he spoke, without showing any hesitation.

“You have no idea the things we went through before you came around, before I had to watch my mother die to bring your pathetic existence to life. At least, Tigris could sell herself and the little dignity our family had left to put food on the table. But you..” He dryly chuckled, his free hand gripping your jaw. You felt like your heart might jump out of your throat any moment now. 

“You did nothing but weigh us down. Your mere existence meant I had to starve even more, sleep even less just so I could shush you, all because you couldn’t stop crying.. All the while excelling at school and being the sole protector of our family name. You? You’ve had it so fucking easy, and neither me or Tigris have ever held it against you. If you weren’t family I’d have kicked you out long ago now. Let you live on the streets, see how long you last with nothing to keep you afloat but your body.” His words were laced with venom, stabbing deeper than a blade ever could. He could’ve gutted you alive and it would’ve been far easier to withstand than this. 

Your breathing was shaky and shallow as you struggled to process his words. He retreated for a moment, before you felt a ringing in your ears, your left cheek stinging with pain. You felt a pounding in the back of your head from the way it crashed into the bedframe. One of your hands coiled around it to keep you upright as the other held your aching, certainly bruised face.

“I’ll give you another chance. Dinner, tomorrow at eight. Don’t be late.” He spoke, soon leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. Only this time, you heard a lock clicking into place.

Coriolanus from Bumble here, very much looking forward to our DATE at EIGHT tonight

likes and comments are appreciated as this is a fairly new blog 🫶🏻 will post the next chapter in a couple of days, lmk if anyone wants to be tagged!

[eternally-writing]

chain reaction 02 | jjk

genre: fluff and angst 

rating: PG 

pairing: Jungkook x reader

theme: college!au , enemies to lovers, series 

word count: 4.6k

warnings: light swearing

synopsis: A semester with your mortal enemy, Jeon Jungkook, as your lab partner was bound to be an experience to remember. 

banner by me!

read part 1 here! 

 If you want to be tagged in future parts, send me an ask! 

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

When you had imagined what Jeon Jungkook’s apartment would look like, you had definitely thought it would look something like an evil lair (except messy, because Jungkook definitely struck you as the messy type). 

However, upon stepping into his surprisingly well-finished apartment, you found the exact opposite case. Before this, you had planned to make a ton of jokes based on whatever you would find in Jungkook’s apartment. And the truth was, you still could. 

Jeon Jungkook was an absolute neat freak. You watched the way he subtly shuddered as a fleck of dirt from your shoes travelled off of his doormat and you took note of how his kitchen counter was so clean you could probably eat directly off of it (which was especially rare from someone in college). If he had a roommate, there was no trace of him right now, as the apartment pretty much looked like a showhome.

“I didn’t know you were such a clean freak, Jeon,” you said with a smirk.

For the first time, you saw Jeon Jungkook look the slightest bit timid. 

“I like to keep things tidy, I guess,” he said while rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. 

He gestured for you to enter his quaint but somehow spacious living room as he sped to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water (he may not like you, but he’d be damned by his mother if she found out he let a guest into his place without giving them a beverage).

You had a very clear game plan when it came to entering Jeon Jungkook’s apartment: Enter. Talk about the project (and nothing else). Grab the chemistry notes from the class you missed on Monday. Leave. 

It definitely seemed like an easy peasy 4 step plan  -  except that all seemed to flow out the window once you saw the photo Jungkook kept on his coffee table. From what you could decipher, it looked like a high school aged Jungkook in a music studio, right in front of the mic, with some of his friends around him. You had never seen Jungkook smile as big as he was in that picture, and it even managed to pull at your heartstrings.

Before you could open your mouth to ask about it, Jungkook had already come over to you and slammed the picture to be face down on the table, leaving smiley high school Jungkook out of sight. 

“An invitation into my apartment isn’t an invitation into my private life, Y/N. Don’t get it twisted.” he said coldly, dropping the glass of water hashly onto a coaster by the picture frame. 

To be fair, you kind of deserved that (and looking into Jungkook’s personal life definitely wasn’t part of your 4 step plan to seeing him today), but he didn’t have to be that mean.  As a peace offering you moved as far away from the photo frame as you could.

“Let’s just get this over with, Jeon. I have a pilates class in an hour on the other side of campus.”

Now Jungkook couldn't pass up that opportunity to make a joke. 

“Pilates, mmm.”  He let out an overexaggerated moan to make his point. 

“ Think you can slip my number to the hot girls there Y/N,” said Jungkook with a smirk. 

“In your dreams Jeon. You’re lucky if any girls will still want your number if you fail organic chemistry, which is what you’re going to do if we don’t work on this project.”

“I think you’re forgetting Y/N.” he said as he bent down, bringing his lips to your ear - “if I go down I’m taking you with me sunshine”. 

Ignoring how his close proximity to you was making your heart race (it was probably due to anger, right??), you jumped away from him and pulled out your macbook.

“Our group contract is due tomorrow so let’s just finish that up and then I’ll be out of your hair okay?” you said with an air of desperation and potentially sexual frustration.

For the most part, you and Jungkook worked in silence besides the occasional sound of you typing or clearing your throat. Looking at the live google doc in front of you and the progress you both were making, you were starting to think that working with Jungkook might not be the worst thing in the world. 

Jeon Jungkook and Y/N L/N : CHEM 251 LAB PRESENTATION CONTRACT

Topic - Green Chemistry 

1. Answer all communication from your partner (emails, messages) within 24 hours

2. Complete all portions of assignments at least 1 day before it is due. 

3. Any changes to your availability should be communicated to your partner. 

4. Y/N will handle the background literature and introduction of the presentation. 

5. Jungkook will look for future applications of Green Chemistry and direct applications of course material in the field of Green Chemistry. 

6. Don’t fall in love with your partner. 

As soon as you saw Jungkook type the last point on the document, you glared at him beside you on the couch. 

“Seriously Jeon? I forgot you have the mindset of a 13 year old boy,” you muttered as he looked at you cockily. 

You took a deep breath as your internal monologue started to run: 

Okay, Y/N. you’re not here to let Jeon Jungkook mess with you. 3 strikes and you’re out of here - there’s no reason to need to keep up with his bullshit (especially since at least the first part of your project was over).

Jungkook had then had to add more rules to your group contract. 

7. Y/N will give out Jungkook’s number to any hot girl at her pilates class. 

You groaned and hastily deleted off the document. 

That was strike 1 for Jungkook. 3 strikes and he’s out. 

Jungkook was still relentless in his attacks. 

“Seriously though Y/N, do you really not think I’m attractive at all? You really don’t want a piece of this?,” he said as he wiggled his eyebrows and gestured to his body all too suggestively. 

“Cut it out Jeon, I’m not dealing with your shit today,” you hissed, your eyes shooting metaphorical lasers into Jungkook. 

Strike 2: He’s getting close. 

“C’mon Y/N, what’s the chance that you’ll ever be able to bag someone as hot as me. I mean, look at me and look at you!”

Strike 3: you were DONE  with Jeon Jungkook today.

Not even stopping to put on your shoes fully, you took one last glance back at him before you walked out the door. 

“Fuck you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The glass of water he got you sat untouched on his coffee table, drops of water spilling onto the photo frame beside it due to his apartment shaking from you slamming his door.

Mirroring the new droplets on his coffee table, you found tears starting to drop across your face as well. 

--♡--

Even though you loved your chemistry lecture, you’re not sure why chemistry labs had such a bad vibe to you. The most obvious explanation for this would be having Jeon Jungkook as a lab partner (especially after your last meeting, the situation speaks for itself). But what could be is probably at least part of the reason is because of what happened in your first year 8AM chem lab. After getting through a grueling 3 hour titration (that you messed up and got no results for in the end), you walked back to your dorm to find your (now ex) boyfriend Jimin in bed with your roommate, Soomi. 

Needless to stay you left that day with one less friend, no boyfriend (and you had also gotten 16/30 on that lab… yikes), so chemistry labs did leave a little bit of a bad taste in your mouth. 

It had been months since that incident, but even after getting a new lease and cutting any ties you remotely had to Jimin, you still carried the insecurity that Jimin instilled in you by cheating on you with someone who you thought of as a sister. 

You had yet to run into Jimin against post-breakup, and had managed to successfully avoid him, until now.

“Y/N?” 

You knew that voice all too well. Turning around, you were met with the sight of your ex, Jimin. As if that wasn’t bad enough, as you looked him over you noticed your old roommate, Soomi, hanging off of his arm. You had no clue that they were still together (you had lost all contact with anyone remotely related to Jimin), and somehow seeing them together hurt you even more. 

Jimin looked even prettier than you had last remembered him; his prince-like hair shone in the afternoon sun, his charming smile seemed even brighter. Knowing Jimin was still with Soomi made you feel that he didn’t even feel a pang of regret for cheating on you, like he didn’t need to take some time by himself to reflect (like you definitely did) or stop to grieve your relationship. From your point of view, it seemed like you never even mattered to Jimin. 

You suddenly felt self conscious of everything under the judgmental gazes of Jimin and Soomi. Those baby hairs that you didn’t bother to pin down with a bobby pin this morning now felt like they were sticking straight out of your head and the pimple that was poking through your concealer on your forehead suddenly felt like a volcano. In your mind, compared to Soomi, you looked like a hot mess.

Your brain was on autopilot for all the small-talk you made with the two of them, and you didn’t snap out of your trance until you heard these words from Jimin. 

“I only wish the best for you Y/N”

You internally scoffed at this statement. Who the fuck was Park Jimin to say that he “wishes the best for you”. You took months to get over him and the hurtful words he said to you. Every mean comment and snarky comparisons he made to you felt like it was tattooed onto your skin and stuck with you forever. But now he was standing in front of you like nothing was wrong?

In a different world, you probably would’ve slapped Jimin across the face. But instead you rose above like your mom taught you to. 

“You as well Jimin.” you said courtly with a nod, trying to stop the tears that were pricking at your eyes from escaping your tear ducts. 

After receiving a small nod from Jimin as a response, you turned around as if you had somewhere to be (in reality, you didn’t have class for another 2 hours).

Getting as far away from Jimin was all you could think about at the moment, and you moved as far as your legs could take you in whatever direction you thought would take you out of your college’s quad, even as the tears falling from your eyes blurred your vision.

You didn’t know how to feel. You had imagined what seeing Jimin for the first time after the break up would look like; maybe he would grovel at his knees and beg to have you back (it’s not that you wanted to date him again or that you had feelings for him, but it would feel nice to feel wanted), maybe you would just throw a drink in his face and walk away like a bad bitch, maybe you could’ve flashed a new boyfriend in front of his face. 

All of a sudden your phone started to ring.  Your first fear (and somewhat hope) was that it would be Jimin calling you, but little did you know that it was something so much worse.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy 

“as if this day couldn’t get any worse,” you thought to yourself as you pressed decline. You had yet to talk to Jungkook since that day at his apartment (you didn’t even call to congratulate him on his 

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy 

You groaned and hit the decline but at the speed of lightning again.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy

Seriously, could this guy not take a hint? You were tempted to turn your phone off all together, but settled for hitting the decline button again.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy

You realized that for whatever reason, Jungkook was not giving up, so you either had to answer him or listen to your ringtone of “Love Killa” by Monday X play every 10 seconds. Praying that your voice wouldn’t betray you, you took a deep (albeit shaky) breath and tried your best to wipe your tears before clicking “answer”.

“Look Jeon, I’m - uh - sorry but I really can’t do this right now okay? I’ll call you later.” you choked out, your voice obviously wavering as you tried to be as professional as possible. 

Before you could press the “end call button” you heard Jungkook’s concerned voice through the speakers.

“Y/N, wait, you don’t sound too good. Are you okay?”

Ah yes, “are you okay” - probably the most loaded question a person could ever ask. 

You probably could’ve kept it together if he had asked any other question, but his “are you ok” truly pulled at your heartstrings.

You felt your chest tightening but you tried your best to help the feeling subside. You had yet to show weakness about how Jimin had affected you to anyone, and you sure as hell weren’t going to start with Jeon Jungkook. Clutching at your chest and taking a few deep breaths in an effort to calm your racing heart, you continued on. 

“Is that genuine concern I’m hearing from you Jeon? Be careful, you’re losing your bad boy persona,” you said as you tried to make a joke to distract him. 

“Y/N, no. I’m serious. are. you. okay.”

You couldn’t handle it anymore. Sobs broke free from your chest and you heaved into the phone, your whimpers and whines striking Jungkook on the other side of the phone. 

“I, I can’t- I just-“

The words barely broke through your sobs. Your chest was tightening and you could barely hear Jungkook through the ringing in your ears. 

“Y/N where are you, I’m coming’” said Jungkook. You could hear the jingling of his car keys and the rustling of him putting on shoes. 

As if mother nature felt your pain, the rain started pouring down on you at the same time.

You barely got out any more words to Jungkook,  but he didn’t hang up on you. He just kept whispering comforting phrases, trying to calm you down from afar as you could hear his car engine roaring in the background (in another world, you definitely would’ve yelled at him for using his phone while driving). You barely even registered that Jungkook was there at all. Every memory of you and Jimin seemed to reopen like a fresh wound, and you couldn’t feel anything except the pain. All you could do was sit on a random curb by the edge of campus, your wails probably reaching the sorority houses nearby. 

You felt broken. The sound of the thunder overhead mixed with your cries as the rain pelted you, soaking your thin sweatshirt. You don’t know how much time passed there. In your head, it felt like time was frozen, while for Jungkook it felt like he was wasting hours zooming through campus (he truly was zooming - a month later he found out that he had accumulated 3 speeding tickets trying to find you, but he would never tell you that).

“Oh, sunshine,” he murmured, voice laced with pity and concern as he pulled over his car on the curb in front of you. 

You and Jungkook hadn’t even said a word to each other since the feud at his apartment, and you had absolutely zero clue how he even managed to figure out where you were through your jumbled phone call. But all you knew is that right now you needed him. You needed someone to give you a bit of comfort, and Jungkook was somehow here to do that for you. Despite everything between you twom you couldn’t hide the feeling of relief that ran through your body as you looked up and saw Jungkook in front of you.

Coming to your side, Jungkook crouched beside you. 

“Jungkook”, you wept as he pulled you into his chest. It was probably one of the first times you had actually addressed him by his first name, which came as a surprise to him. 

Holding you closer, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel protective over you. He couldn’t help but hurt with you as he saw your fragile figure shaking in his arms. 

“You’re gonna be okay now Y/N, okay? I’m here. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”  

And in that moment, on a dirty curbside off campus, you weren’t Jeon boy and little miss sunshine,  mortal enemies and chemistry lab partners. Instead, you were just Jeon Jungkook and Y/N., and nothing else seemed to matter at the moment.

--♡--

To your surprise (and the surprise of anyone else who knows you), you and Jungkook had not been stepping on each other’s toes as much. What had started out as extreme, extreme dislike had turned into a mild dislike (maybe even a very slight enjoyment of his presence, although you weren't about to admit that anytime soon). And of course, you both refuse to acknowledge the “Jimin incident” that had occurred a week ago and you both refuse to believe that it may have had something to do with you and Jungkook not hating each other. Your emails stopped being signed off with “do your part Jeon, or else” and instead now usually started with “Hey Jeon!” and “Thanks, Y/N”

That brought you here, in your apartment on a Friday night, eating old pizza in an old sweatshirt, no bra, and some comfy shorts that had definitely been through the wash one too many times. Researching for your chemistry project, you chuckled at how much of a londer you would look to an outsider. Sending off the articles you found on Green Chemistry to Jungkook, you closed out the email with some casual pleasantries and then turned to continue rewatching episodes of your favourite kdrama. You definitely weren’t expecting a response from Jungkook until Monday. You were sure that someone like him was at a frat party (was he even in a frat? You had no idea). Either way, Jungkook probably was lounging around in some party house with like 6 girls on his arms, while you were doing quite the opposite. 

Surprisingly, Jungkook was actually doing quite a similar thing to you. Instead of watching kdramas, he was watching Iron Man (for what was probably the 50th time), and was huddled under a makeship blanket fort like a child and scrolling through reddit. Don’t be mistaken though, Jeon Jungkook was definitely a partier, but he also knew when he needed to give his head (and liver) a break.

He saw his phone chime with a gmail notification. He took a brief scroll through the articles you had sent over to him (those were definitely work for another day since there was no way he could digest academic jargon without at least 3 cups of coffee in him), but he was pleasantly surprised with what you had come up with. 

At the same time, the Facebook tab he had open on his Macbook also lit up. 

It’s Y/N L/N’s birthday today! Leave a message on her wall to celebrate!

Jungkook’s jaw dropped. 

It was your birthday and you were sending him chemistry research papers?? Jungkook chuckled because he could already think of 1000 bad jokes to make fun of you, but he also felt some other feeling that he couldn’t quite place.  

Jungkook’s mother had always taught him that it was important to celebrate birthdays, and that is was bad luck that it was  He wasn’t sure if it was just a farce that his mother had come up with to make sure that he still attended those family-wide facetime birthday celebrations once he went to college, but either way, he still believed it to some extent. 

He had no clue why he was doing this, or how he even got here, but somehow Jungkook found himself in sweatpants and a hoodie in front of your apartment door at 10pm on a Friday night, cake in tow in one hand, his other hand out ready to knock on your door. 

On the other side of the door, you were equally astonished. It almost felt like you were seeing a hallucination, as if your email to Jungkook had somehow summoned him to your door. You couldn’t help but rub your eyes in disbelief, just to make sure he was actually there. 

“Jungkook?”

Bashful Jungkook seemed to make an appearance again as he tapped his feet in anxiety. And before he could stop himself, words were already tumbling from his mouth”

“Happy birthday?” he said as a question , posing it as if he didn’t know whether facebook was just playing a prank on him (which he honestly didn’t know). “Can I come in?”

You didn’t even really know how to process this situation, but all you could mutter was a “uh, thank you?” in a similar inquirable tone and gesture for him to step into your apartment. If Jeon Jungkook showed up at your door at 10pm on a Friday night, he probably deserved to be heard out.

“You can make yourself comfortable on the couch. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company otherwise I would have cleaned up a bit.”  You were sure that Jungkook’s neat freak brain was probably frying itself into overdrive based on the empty now-empty pizza box sitting on your coffee table and stray utensils and crumbs on your kitchen counter. You felt a little embarrassed that he had to see this.

Mirroring Jungkook’s hospitality last time you were at his place, you brought him a glass of water and hoped that this evening would go a LOT better than the last time you and Jungkook were alone together in an apartment. 

Jungkook’s cake was still held in his hands. It was a little cake from the 24/7 cafe on campus; he could only find one that said “happy” with little sunflowers and smiles, so hopefully the “birthday” part of it was implied. 

“I, um, I brought cake - for you. I mean your birthday.”

You sat down across from him. 

“Oh you didn’t have to Jungkook, uh that’s really nice but you didn’t have to do that,” you said as you leaned further away from the cake, as if it was an item that scared you. “I’m not big on birthdays anyways, just usually me chilling in my apartment!” 

However, Jungkook was not planning on taking no as an answer. He tried his best to plead with you, but was still getting nowhere. 

“you… you have to do it for my mom!” he said as he thrust the cake even closer to your face. 

You tilted your head in confusion at his statement. 

“I mean uh-, my mom says that it’s bad luck if you don’t blow out candles on cake on your birthday and that if you don’t do it then you won’t live to your next birthday. And um- i know we’re not friends Y/N but I’d rather see you alive next year”.

 Jungkook tried to look as nonchalant and cool as possible, and when he realized his statement was a little too thoughtful he followed it up with a “i mean you could do whatever you want i don’t care it doesn’t matter to me”. 

You were beginning to like this side of Jungkook, the one that was more thoughtful than he was a selfish, inconsiderate dude.

Taking the cake softly from his hands, you muttered a soft “thank you”. At this point Jungkook didn’t know whether you took it from his hands to throw it on the ground or actually use it for its intended purpose. As you leaned over to grab the lighter by your candles on your coffee table, Jungkook let out a breath of relief. 

Throwing open the cake box, you lit the candle in the cake and stared patiently in front of it. 

“Well Jungkook, I believe if I am going to be blowing out candles there should be singing too, no?” You joked with a silly smile on your face. 

Knowing he had no way out of this (and to be honest, he secretly wanted to anyways), he began to sing. 

You had never heard a more beautiful rendition of happy birthday in your life. Jungkook turned the most mundane song, one that you didn’t have many happy memories with, into a tune that made your heart start to swell with joy. You wished the song was longer, because as he stopped to sing you wanted nothing more than for him to keep going. 

“Make a wish, Y/N” , he whispered. 

You didn’t know what to wish for. There were a lot of things that needed to be fixed in the world, and lots of things that you needed too (like a new toothbrush, or the experience of true love). It seemed fitting that since you were only blowing out these candles because of Jungkook, you should at least dedicate the wish to him. So all you wished for was for you and Jungkook to get along just like you were in this moment. 

You looked up at Jungkook from the cake, and from there all you could say was a sincere “thank you”.

The moment was all too sincere, and you and Jungkook could feel the atmosphere shift to one that was all too intimate and friendly for your relationship. As moving away from a hot flame, you both picked up your phones and mumbled excuses to move away from the situation. 

Jungkook was the first to break the ice again. 

“I don’t know how good this cake is going to be, the expiry date was at least a week and a half ago”

“Well Jeon Jungkook, if you brought an expired cake into my apartment, it feels like a right of passage that you have to try this cake with me.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from picking up a piece of cake on a fork and shoving it into his mouth. Immediately, his face scrounged up in disgust, and you could pretty much see him gag. 

“That cream is… very creamy to stay the least,” he said as he thickly swallowed it down, grimacing the whole time. 

His expression made you chuckle. There was something about the way his naturally fluffy hair seemed to move as he swayed like a piece of seaweed on your couch (a mannerism that you had picked up on quite quickly), that made you feel warm inside.

“Considering me sacrificing myself to this cake as a birthday present to you, Y/N” 

The laugh that bubbled out of your chest almost made that gross cake worth it to Jungkook. And some words of sincerity slipped out before you could hold them in. 

“Best birthday present ever, Jungkook, thank you.

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

Taglist: @apollukee , @mrcleanheichou , @monvieesdaebak 

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 If you liked what you read, please interact/follow! Thank you for reading♡

- Emily

[veliseraptor]

been a bit since 150 words meme and since I’m having a fuck of a time focusing and self-motivating still apparently...well, external help it is

send me up to three of the numbers below and I’ll write 150 words in the designated project

1. “You have a very dim view of the world,” Xiao Xingchen said. 

“I’m right about it.” 

“Hm,” Xiao Xingchen said, and then, “I suppose it doesn’t change anything that I saved your life.”

“That’s you,” Xue Yang said bluntly. “And if you’d known who I was right off, don’t pretend you wouldn’t’ve left me right there.”

Xiao Xingchen’s expression flickered, then steadied. “I did know,” he said. “I brought you here anyway.” (the backyard is full of bones)

2. He fumbled to get the door open and bolted. He didn’t stop until he was on the sidewalk outside, breathing in deep gulps of night air. His heart was pounding and there were weird shivers running up and down his spine, like chills from a fever.

He made it halfway home on the bus before his head started to clear, though even then he still felt shaky and strange, a little like he’d just been sick, or fainted. That was also when he realized that he’d left his coat on the floor of Xue Yang’s apartment. Xue Yang’s apartment, which he’d just run out of, like an idiot, after a blowjob and a handjob.

He put his face in his hands only to discover that his fingers still smelled like sex. (Redux)

3. His injuries were not minor. If Xiao Xingchen hadn’t found him when he had, within the day he probably would have died. He wasn’t at risk of that anymore, but the damage to his leg had cut through the muscle almost to the bone, the stab wound through his shoulder had only narrowly missed piercing anything life-threatening or crippling, and at least four of his ribs were broken from what, as far as Xiao Xingchen could tell, a truly brutal beating.

“Oh, yeah,” the stranger said casually, when he asked. “Pretty spectacular. You’d think I’d dishonored their mothers, or something, how hard they were going at it.” 

He sounded almost amused. As though it was something funny. 

(Xiao Xingchen didn’t find it entertaining at all. He knew that some people dealt with their pain by making light of it, but it still seemed wrong to be quite so cavalier about an attempt on your life.) (Bedrest)

4. “You killed the Chang Clan,” she said. Swallowed, and added, “all of them.” If she thought about that too much it made her feel sick and shivery, so she didn’t. It was cowardice, but it was a cowardice she allowed herself. 

“Yeah,” Xue Yang said. “Everyone there, anyway, I guess one of them survived.” And now his voice was a little different, too. A little harder, a little colder. Still casual, though, as if he was indifferent to all that death.

“Why?” 

It was like watching a door close behind his eyes, rendering them suddenly opaque. The curve of his mouth dropped out of a smile and then pulled back into one that was sharper, meaner. 

“He asked that too,” Xue Yang said. “Your didi.”

Jiang Yanli didn’t think she needed to ask which. “He did?” 

“Mmhm. Only one. Thought that was kind of funny that no one else was even a little curious.” He laughed, sharp like his smile, and Jiang Yanli felt a little as though she was swimming in a lake full of things with very sharp teeth. (this world is gonna break your heart)

5. He did end up having to listen to Xue Yang loudly and thoroughly working Xiao Xingchen over until close to midnight, and couldn’t decide if he was being teased or being punished. 

“Hope we didn’t keep you up,” Xue Yang said the next morning, with a shark’s grin as Xiao Xingchen quickly tried to bury his face in his mug, and Song Lan decided it was almost certainly teased. (heel, stay)

6. Xue Yang cracked his neck to one side and paused, curling one hand around the pouch that held Xiao Xingchen, suddenly wondering if there was any chance that being around this much saturated resentment might be bad for him. 

No. He should be well insulated where he was. Safe. 

Shaking off the brief prickles of unease, Xue Yang moved on. The ground here had been cleared, sort of, but he didn’t have to look far to see the places where bones still lay barely covered by thin grass and brambles. (a symphony for the departed)

7. The evil thing was going to bring Xiao Xingchen back.

That was what he said, anyway. A-Qing knew it was something he could do, hypothetically. I’ve done it before, he said. I’ve raised plenty of corpses and one conscious one so there’s no reason I can’t do it again. 

She should run. Xiao Xingchen had wanted her to. But Xiao Xingchen was gone and her only chance of getting him back, maybe, was the bastard himself. Xue Yang. (the people are gone and the place is empty)

8. Song Lan gestured at Xue Yang’s right shoulder. Xue Yang let out a bark of laughter. “Are you asking if I’m okay? That’s sweet.”

Song Lan felt his face twitch and controlled it before it turned into a scowl. He stared at Xue Yang, waiting, hoping that he would read it - correctly - as his expecting a response. 

“I’m fine,” Xue Yang said, tone turning snappish. “I’ve taken worse than one angry fierce corpse throwing me around a little.”

Song Lan felt a strange twist of discomfort. For a split second it crept into his mind that Xue Yang was badly wounded and functionally his prisoner. He was still dangerous, even with their tentative truce Song Lan didn’t trust him.

But Xue Yang had just helped him, even if it was his fault Song Lan needed it in the first place. There is punishment, and there is cruelty.

What would Xingchen think to see you now? 

The pang of guilt was gone even more swiftly than it had appeared, though it left a sour aftertaste. (Walking Far From Home)

9. He moved back to give Xiao Xingchen a little space - he’d probably wake up upset, after all, and Xue Yang didn’t want him to do anything he’d feel bad about later. Sat down at the table, folded his arms and rested his chin on them, settling in to wait. His eyes fixed on Xiao Xingchen’s chest moving up-down, up-down. 

It’d been a near miss. He hadn’t expected Xiao Xingchen would pull something that stupid. 

But it’d worked out okay. And everything would be fine now. (xxc survives and it isn’t fine)

10. “What’s your name?” he asked, a sudden shiver of fear running through him. “I don’t remember-”

“Yeah, that’d be because I never told you,” his friend’s voice said after a very brief pause. 

“You didn’t?” Xiao Xingchen said. That seemed odd. Wouldn’t he have asked? He supposed if someone had been reluctant to tell him then he wouldn’t want to press - but if they were friends… 

“It’d be great,” his friend said after a more lengthy pause, “if you told me that you were playing dumb about now.”

“I’m not,” Xiao Xingchen said immediately, though his stomach was sinking. 

“Yeah,” his friend said. “I figured. Unfortunately. Fuck.” (xiao xingchen + concussion)

11. “I told you,” Lan Wangji said. “I would give you rest.”

“Enlightenment,” Wei Ying sneered, and laughed, high and cold. “It’s always the same story with you, isn’t it? ‘Come back to Gusu, Wei Ying. Let me play music for you, Wei Ying. Let me fix you.’” 

The mockery stung him more than he expected. He had told himself that he’d be prepared for cruelty, but hearing it aloud in Wei Ying’s voice, however altered, however much he knew that angry ghosts were not the same as the people they had been in life–

It cut toward the heart of his own regrets. What he knew of his own shortcomings, meticulously catalogued over three years in an icy cave, and now spat back at him from the person he’d failed. (the fair and the brave and the good must die)

[dalekofchaos]

My critique of the Sequel Trilogy Lightsaber duels

My biggest problems with the Sequel Trilogy are the blatant rip off and unoriginality, no clear plan at all, lore breaking bullshit, lack of worldbuilding and poor executions of great character concepts. In this post, one of my My biggest gripes with the Sequels is the terrible Lightsaber fights.

The only good duel in my opinion is Finn vs Kylo Ren. This feels raw and powerful. A hardened soldier who has just became familiar to Lightsaber combat vs a trained dark side warrior. Despite Ren's years on training, though, Finn puts up a good fight and is able to hold his own before having his back sliced up. But.....that's what kills the fight for me. Finn's injuries. If this were in the first 6 movies or anywhere in the EU, Finn would be in a wheelchair or in a bacta tank for life. And guess what? A movie later and Finn’s injuries are never brought up again or treated with any severity.

Like Finn’s injuries, Finn’s rivalry with Kylo Ren is dropped for no reason whatsoever and never mentioned again. Finn and Kylo Ren are narrative foils, yet after TFA it’s dropped??? From the start they have been prominent foils to each other: dark from light and light from dark, both in the First Order but in drastically different positions. And Kylo too obviously has strong feelings about his defection. I also believe that Finn is the awakening in the force that Kylo and Snoke felt. Perhaps that is why Kylo focused on Finn and is so angry about him. Finn is also the first person to use the legacy lightsaber and is the first to actually fight Kylo. TLJ could've focused on Finn and Kylo being  narrative foils having a force connection and Kylo wondering why Finn would switch to the Resistance while Finn wonders why Kylo joined The First Order and  Rey standing in the middle of it all wondering with the new realization that her family has a mixed past of good and evil and her questioning where exactly does she belong? The way at the height of tfa when Kylo Ren rejected Han Solo’s offer for redemption and killed him he looked over and noticed Finn. Like they both locked eyes and in that moment was a surge of emotions between them— shock (and some fear) on Finn’s end, and anger on Kylo’s as he shouts at Finn that he’s a traitor— and those circumstances set Finn and Kylo up to be the dynamic for the sequel trilogy. They were foils, and the trilogy had the potential to truly expand on that and see their development in a final standoff/rematch at the very end. But it was wasted, because why have good movies.

Rey vs Kylo Ren. This duel was bullshit from start to finish. Okay, I don't care how force sensitive she is. I don't care that she downloaded Kylo's abilities in the interrogation. ANd I don't give a fuck WHO she turned out to be related to. If you are thrown into a tree, you are gonna be out for at least an hour. I will hand it to them that it feels like a genuine fight, but it just feels cheap when Rey won. It also doesn't make it any better that Kylo's injuries doesn't force him to wear the helmet at all times, his facial wounds are non-consequential. Rey has no prior training. Never held a lightsaber. Rey fighting off thieves with her quarterstaff is not the same thing, it is understandable that Kylo was struggling because of his injuries, but Rey didn’t struggle against Kylo. Even Luke struggled with Vader and Anakin struggled with Dooku. What should have happened is as it looks like Kylo is about to win, Chewie from the Falcon fires his bowcaster to keep Ren at bay and both Rey and Finn make it to the Falcon. This way we can keep Kylo Ren strong and show Rey struggling to overcome Kylo. It will also show This is how powerful he is when injured, so imagine him at his peak. Instead we get a pointless fight instead of Rey and Finn just escaping Starkiller base while Ren collapses due to injuries and Rey beating Kylo served no purpose(the end goal to destroy Starkiller Base was already accomplished) and helped derail their villain of the trilogy.

The Throne Room Duel. Everyone knew that Rey and Kylo would kill the Praetorian Guards. This is a fight with absolutely zero stakes. It's one thing if Rey and Kylo dueled Snoke himself, that might be a good fight. But come on, did anyone REALLY think they would lose? There is no tension in the scene and it is pointless. Kylo Ren and Rey are fighting a faceless a group of guards that we know absolutely nothing about and have literally no purpose in the entire story except for this one fight. We know neither of the characters are going to die because these are just faceless red shirts and there is still like 30 to 40 minutes left of the movie. Terrible editing takes away any enjoyment one might have with the fight choreography, if you've got to literally photoshop out the bad guys weapons in post production to not look stupid you might need to recoreograph the shot. There are multiple times where Rey, Kylo and the guards are just doing motions and actions because they look cool but serve no purpose but to look cool. Kylo stabbing the ground? Pointless. Rey twirling her rave stick around while someone falls behind her, pointless. Not even once do we see them displaying their powers is what cheapens the fight. Kylo Ren is powerful enough to freeze a blaster and a person in place and Rey herself unlocked Kylo’s powers, so the two of them could have easily ended the fight sooner than it was dragged out. Kylo is powerful in the force but he SERIOUSLY could not stop a Praetorian Guard choke holding him and Rey struggled with a guard? Rey and Kylo were stronger in TFA and are just made weaker in the duel with the Praetorian Guards. Kylo could have frozen half of the guards and Rey could have mind tricked the other half into killing the frozen guards and Kylo and Rey could have finished them. They are masters of light and darkness, but they are made weaker. The throne room scene is a symbolization of everything wrong with the movie. It’s all flash, but no substance and the more you think about it, the worse it gets.

All this duel makes me believe is that Rey and Ben should’ve both switched sides in TLJ. Rey gives in to the dark side and Ben returns home. Rey is the most Sith like character if you obey the rules of George Lucas for Light and Dark sides of the force. Ben Solo is more Jedi like throughout the movie until the end. Let me explain. Rey throughout the sequel trilogy has given in to her passion and anger. In the end of TFA Rey gave in to anger and hate to defeat Kylo. and in TLJ she is shown to use anger and hate throughout the movie. She is shown to as Yoda put it “take the quick and easy path to the dark side” gives in to anger and hate in almost every scene before she boards the Supremacy and gave in to the temptations of the dark side water cave. Her dark side actions in TROS speak for itself. Ben is calm and clear minded like a Jedi, he even wants to cut all ties to attachments like a Jedi. Everything we were told of the Jedi and how disciplined they are, Ben displays that in TLJ until after the Throne room fight. Hell, EVEN THE THRONE ROOM FIGHT SUGGESTS THIS. Think about the fact that Ben really does not move or even engage. He just stands there and dodges and swings once when the guard rushes him. Contrast that to Rey, who is clearly being more aggressive with her lightsaber and attacking rather than just being passive. How again is Rey the Jedi and Kylo is the dark side force user in this movie? They’re fighting in the exact opposite way they should be. Rey fights for the kill while Kylo gets a glancing blow in the armor in the opening fight. Their style of fighting in the Throne Room with the Praetorian Guards really suggests that they should’ve switched sides. What they should have done is have Ben realize that Snoke was evil and shows regret for his actions and turn to the light. While Rey feeling betrayed by Luke and the revelation of her family turns to the dark. This would not only be unexpected but would even rival Vader’s “I am your father” twist. And it would logically follow what we’ve seen of these two characters leading up to this point. Rather than just out of the blue Kylo turns angry and irrational and Rey is calm when Ben was calm and rational throughout the movie and Rey was full of anger and hate throughout this movie. You have them follow an arc that makes sense for their individual personalities. Ben is always calm, but he felt betrayed by those on the light, but he comes to realize that betrayal was an incorrect perception and he desperately wants to make amends to Luke and Leia and therefore he should rejoin what he knows in his heart is good. While Rey is full of passion and anger and as that builds up and she realizes that even the great Jedi Luke Skywalker is a disappointment and her family abandoned her, she knows the only person who can live up to her own expectations is herself and that self-centered attitude leads her to the dark side. That would make sense and we would have something to fight for, save Rey from herself or stop her.

Luke Skywalker and Kylo Ren. Originally, I thought they were gonna have Luke first send the Walkers’ turboblasts right back at them and use the force to bring down the transports, TIEs and the shuttle and then toy with his nephew like Vader did to him and leave Kylo Ren in defeat and his ruined fleet. In a way he did(minus the ruined fleet), but it took away any tension away by having Luke just be a force projection. He wasn't there. His moment with Leia and 3-PO doesn't feel genuine anymore. And the "duel" if you can call it that is just bad. Luke doesn't have his Green Lightsaber and their blades do not clash. A Jedi is all about defense. But a Jedi will also fight in self-defense to defend others. The argument that Luke did the "most Jedi thing ever" is bullshit. A Jedi will stand up for what's right and face the threat. Instead Luke pulled a practical joke and died pointlessly. I mean if he instead pulled the X-Wing out afterwords and told R2 "Come on R2, we've got work to do." I would forgive that and then we could've gotten a genuine master and apprentice relationship between Luke and Rey and a proper reunion between Luke and Leia. But no, he has to die of force exhaustion. If Palpatine, who uses the force like crack didn't die of force exhaustion, then why did Luke?

The duels in TROS are all equally terrible. Not once did I felt any excitement between Rey and Kylo's duels as I did with Finn and Kylo from TFA. Every Lightsaber duel is forgettable. The fight in Ren's Quarters is just bad. The fight on the Death Star Ruins is just terrible. It's like they both got high on deathsticks and could barley remember that they are both trained with a Lightsaber. Fighting in ruins surrounded by water SHOULD BE EXCITING! But they did everything in their power to make this duel boring, mediocre and lackluster. They act as if they are swinging bats, not Lightsabers. Lightsabers aren’t baseball bats, stop treating them like they are!  

The worst part is that THIS was the final Lightsaber duel of the Star Wars saga. A huge step down if compared to Obi Wan vs Anakin in Mustafar and Darth Vader vs Luke Skywalker in the Emperor’s Throne Room, which unlike the previous prequel, had awesome shooting and use of the soundtrack, also being very lengthy.

Then we get the Luke and Leia flashback. The ONLY well choreographed fight scene is a fucking flashback.

Then Ben Solo and the Knights Of Ren. Again, we know the Knights are gonna die. If JJ Abrams bothered to characterize the Knights, then yes they might've had a chance, but like the Praetorian Guards, they exist for background and die pointlessly.

Of Course we don't get to see Palpatine duel wielding his twin Sith Lightsabers and fighting Rey and Ben, cause JJ mr I hate the Prequels can't give the fans any decent Lightsaber fights. Instead of Palpatine facing Rey and Ben in an epic climatic final battle, we get Palpatine killed by his own lightning.

The fights in TFA is adequate at best. TLJ is meaningless. TROS is absolutely terrible and forgettable.

John, Daisy and Adam deserved better choreography than they were given. There's no excuse for the lackluster duels we see in the ST, whether from Rey, Finn or Kylo.

One of the biggest complaints for the Prequels is Lightsaber fights is "they are too choreographed" and anyone who believes this is an idiot. What? You wanted Jedi in their prime to slap sticks like old people? You wanted them to fight like drunken hobos? One of the best things in the prequels was finally getting to see the Jedi finally go all out in some awesome lightsaber duels. The Jedi should be masters at Lightsaber combat. Fight choreography is a good thing. Look at the duels in the prequels. You can like or hate them but the duel between Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon and Maul was great. As was Obi-Wan vs Jango, Yoda vs Dooku and every duel in ROTS. Even The Clone Wars had great fight choreography. There was more planning and choreography in The Clone Wars S7E10 than in the whole sequel trilogy.

Seriously, why wasn't Nick Gillard contacted? He is the main reason why the Lightsaber duels in the prequels were so good. I don't care if too many Lightsabers were a big complaint amongst the Prequel haters, the duels were good. So instead of great fight scenes, you traded great fight choreography for mediocre baseball bat fights?

The choreography is not the issue alone. There is no emotion. In TFA. Starkiller Base was already set to blow, so the fight was pointless. In TLJ there is no emotion at stake for the Throne Room fight and the Resistance already got away prior to Luke's pointless death. Rey vs Kylo doesn’t even matter because the characters HAVE THE SAME GOAL. Both want to get to Exegol via a wayfinder before the duel and both get to Exegol with a wayfinder (or memory of it) at the end of the duel. While Kylo gets redeemed, the duel wasn’t necessary for this part as Leia just needed to talk to him and then give him the force induced memory. The only thing this proves is that Rey is not a Jedi because she gives into anger and blind rage to start the duel.

The duels in the prequels and originals had themes, emotion and meaning. Not just that but they looked damn impressive and was the spectacle that helped made Star Wars, Star Wars.

There isn't any good musical scores for any of the Lightsaber fights either or at the very least, nothing memorable. Nothing as iconic as Duel Of Fates, Battle Of Heroes and the Throne Room fight in ROTJ. I don't remember any themes in the Sequels and that's a problem.

And it doesn’t help that these duels have no meaningful deaths either. A bunch of faceless guards and Luke (through indirect means) are the only deaths via a duel. But this is what happens when you hide the mentor archetype on an island and have the hero and villain go at it for three films.

The Lightsaber duel is no longer an emotional spectacle and a grand duel to the death. It's a bunch of idiots high on deathsticks fighting pointlessly and fighting for absolutely nothing. Rey fights like a Sith but she's a Jedi. Ben fights like a Jedi but is leading the First Order? They don't matter anymore and the duels in the sequels are the most forgettable thing about them.

[maydaymadier]

i’m suddenly feeling very emotional about the mighty nein so i’m gonna vomit up some headcanons

Caleb is always warm to the touch, he personally doesn’t feel overheated or anything, he’s just The Warm Friend, doomed to a lifetime of his friends’ cold hands

Caleb is trans, i am right and i do not take criticism

Fjord is Trans, i am unbelievably right and refuse criticism on this point

Subnote: (and this is 1100% my own projection) Uk’otoa is a PCOS metaphor, Fjord, much like myself, has Evil Orbs

All of Fjord’s healing has ocean-flavoring, there’s still that warmth frequently described with healing spells but it’s like, ocean sunset warmth or warm sand, that kind of thing.

Molly didn’t actually have an Irish accent, that was for a different con he was working on

Taliesin “The one night I got his accent right was the night he died” Jaffe  

When you die and are brought back via a spell like revivify there are a few temporary side effects depending on the specific circumstances (how well the caster rolled, how many hp past 0 you were, the specific spell, etc).  This includes but is not limited to

dulled senses of taste and smell

becoming clammy/chill to the touch

And yes, Molly’s senses of taste and smell were super dulled when he first woke up, he was probably just starting to get them back by the time he met the nein

This isn’t a headcanon, this is just math I did for Reasons: a 6 mo old halfling is on average 13.83 in long/tall

Caduceus has a weighted blanket

i mean, a blanket is part of the cleric starting equipment

you wouldn’t think it’s that heavy but then you go to pick it up

he had it long before he was alone at the grove but it really helped him calm down/relax/sleep once he was alone

the guy misses cuddle puddles and that’s incredibly valid of him

art of the blanket here -> x

SPEAKING OF WEIGHTED BLANKETS

Preferred stim toys

Fjord: fidget cubes

Beau: twisty/tangle ones (idk the proper name)

Caleb’s second notebook is a journal, purposefully not written in Common (zemnian and celestial though he may through in a common word here and there where it works best) to keep the contents private

Beau has a casual understanding of Zemnian, she’s fluent in it the way an American kid who grew up watching Dora the Explorer and took Spanish in high school understands Spanish.  Bc medieval rich people had nothing better to do than learn languages

Beau wouldn’t grow her hair all the way back out from the undercut bc she can handle/likes how long her hair is on top but can’t stand the feel of her hair curling against the sides of her head, also shaved sides go scritch

Jester actually goes through sketchbooks super fast, there is a library of filled sketchbooks in her haversack

Jester painted a flower in her sketchbook for each day without Yasha when she was taken

Yasha is colorblind

Yasha might have some sort of curse or notable past injury she’s hiding, her left hand is completely gloved and covered in both of her official outfits and i’ve heard some interesting speculation about it

!!!!!!!! Yasha tried to Healing Hands someone who was already dead dead and it fucked up her hand

Trent Ikithon has jaundice and will die of liver failure in the next six months

The magical darkness over Rosohna unfortunately acts like a magical black tarp to some extent so during the summer it absorbs a lot of heat and makes the city below unbearably hot.

Essek never learned Find Familiar because coming from a powerful den he was expected to wind up in a position of high power/authority and everyone around him thought other spells were a more important use of his time and training.  By the time he got a chance to learn on his own, level 1 spells like Find Familiar were far beyond his concern.

[jetsetlife138]

Imaginary - Chapter 7

Rating: Mature for this chapter, but Explicit in future chapters

Pairings: Alastor x Fem!Reader, Alastor x Lucifer x Reader

Summary: Somehow thrown into the animated world of Hazbin Hotel, you’re now transformed into a two-dimensional human that has been cast into Hell. Charlie and the staff of the Happy Hotel take you in and offer you protection while they try and figure out how to return you to your world. That is… until you come across a certain Radio Demon with different intentions. Chapter Warnings: Manipulation 

Previous Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Holy shit. Oh, fuck. There he was. The creature you had heard about your entire life. The epitome of all things evil and corrupt… the embodiment of sin… and he was standing directly in front of you, meeting your horrified expression with an amused one of his own.

Finding words was impossible as your mouth hung open in shock, unsure of what to say or how to address your current situation. Granted, this Lucifer was an animation, and an extremely whimsical one at that, but considering what you had heard, you were certain that he was capable of terrible and downright unspeakable things.

“Cat got your tongue?” Lucifer teased, quirking an eyebrow.

At that moment, it just so happened that a grumpy cat-demon was passing by. From the hallway, you could hear Husk grumble, “Fuck off,” clearly offended by the remark and probably on his way to the bar. He seemed to be surprisingly unfazed by Lucifer’s presence. Either that, or he was completely oblivious to the fact that he was even there.

Luckily, Charlie broke the tense silence that filled the room. “W-where’s Mom?

Releasing an exasperated sigh, Lucifer turned to address his very clearly emotionally overwhelmed daughter. “She’s on another one of her holidays. She took the gardener and fled to the Lust Ring for some time away. I think that it will do her some good.”

Upon noticing Charlie’s look of discomfort and your perplexed expression, Lucifer chuckled darkly. “Lilith and I have what you would call an open relationship. I adore the woman, but alas, she and I tend to grow tired of each other’s company after several millennia. You could not have come at a better time, little human!”

Changing the subject, Charlie interjected, “So… that’s why you’re here? I haven’t heard from you or Mom in weeks, but somehow you can find the time to cross the Seven Rings to see someone you don’t even know?”

“Oh, Charlotte. Desperation is not a good look on you,” Lucifer sneered, brushing off Charlie’s jab. “You’re a Magne for Satan’s sake. Wipe that dejected look off of your face and stop embarrassing yourself.”

Fighting back tears, Charlie’s bottom lip quivered, but she managed to keep herself in check. “Yes, Dad…”

Anger was bubbling up inside of you and threatening to spill over. You had exchanged a look with Alastor, who very subtly shook his head, indicating that now was not the time to lose your cool.

“Now,” Lucifer declared, clapping his hands together excitedly. “Let’s get moving, shall we? Oh, this is absolutely thrilling! I have so many things to inquire about.” 

Finally finding your words, you spoke barely above a whisper, “I don’t want to leave.”

Wagging his finger disapprovingly at you, Lucifer chastised, “I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter. You’re deliciously powerless and at the mercy of Hell’s ruler… who just happens to be me!” He cackled at his own joke, which wasn’t even funny.

“But, Dad,” Charlie couldn’t stop herself from butting in. “She’s doing well here. We’re keeping her safe and she’s just getting settled. We’re making progress, and I really don’t think that it’s a good idea--”

“Enough!” Lucifer snarled, shaking the whole room with the intensity of his anger. He bared his teeth at Charlie, his eyes now a fiery red and yellow as he glared at her. “Do not defy me, child. Your sympathy for other creatures is pathetic and will be the end of you. I will not tolerate it!”

To Charlie’s credit, she refused to cower before him and instead puffed out her chest, challenging him as her own eyes flashed red and yellow back at him.

“If I may,” Alastor’s calm and collected voice cut through the tension in the room. “The princess makes a valid argument.”

As everyone turned to look at the Radio Demon, Lucifer returned to his former self, brushing his hair back to smooth out the blonde strands that had fallen out of place during his fit of rage.

“Ah, Alastor. I see the rumors are true. You’ve decided to embark in the hospitality industry. It’s a far cry from Overlord status, but to each their own, I suppose.”

Alastor remained eerily still, his smile prominently projecting while his eyes narrowed ever so subtly, which Lucifer seemed to pick up on. “Come now, old friend. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you and your endeavors. Perhaps you can teach my daughter a thing or two about Hell and the roles each must play.”

“I have no intention of soliciting false pretenses, Luci, my dear. I am merely here to watch the scum of the earth struggle for betterment before they trip and tumble down into the fiery pit of failure.” A shiver crept down your spine as he finished and he had a sinister gleam in his eyes.

“Ha!” Lucifer exclaimed. “I should have known. You’re far too clever to abed Charlotte in a failed quest of humanity.”

“Come now, Luci,” Alastor began, tutting the King of Hell. “Must you be so cynical? If nothing else, she’s providing entertainment. I would think that you, of all sinners, would enjoy that.”

“Apparently, you know nothing of the things that I enjoy, Stag,” Lucifer quipped using a peculiar nickname.

Alastor hummed thoughtfully. “Oh, I wouldn’t say nothing.”

An awkward silence filled the room as Lucifer cleared his throat before swallowing thickly. Alastor’s cold and calculated stare was unwavering and wicked.

Quickly averting the topic, Lucifer stated, “The fact remains, it’s not safe for a vulnerable human here in the hotel.”

“I beg to differ,” Alastor countered, nonchalantly twirling his cane in his hands. “She’s no safer with you, my king. You have a significant target on your back and were she to stay with you, she would be in constant danger.”

“I could say the same for you,” Lucifer argued, narrowing his eyes while his smile widened. The similarities between Lucifer and Alastor were unsettling. “You’ve certainly made your fair share of enemies.”

“That may be, but I have nothing but free time,” Alastor deflected with a hint of malice. “You have enough on your plate, what with the recent extermination and those dreadful turf wars that are always on the picture show. The last thing you need is to be burdened with something like this.”

Lucifer sneered, pausing to look over the Radio Demon as if he were looking for something to give him ammunition for the conversation. “If I didn’t know any better, my old friend, I would think that you were trying to manipulate me into allowing her to stay.”

Alastor’s smile crept higher into his cheeks, the slits of his eyes thinning ever so slightly. “I think we’re far past the point of manipulation. I won’t beat around the bush. It would be a mistake for you to take her into your custody.”

Lucifer growled, his impatience fracturing the surface of his indifferent disposition. “The mistake would be to underestimate me.”

“Dad, enough!” Charlie interjected, no longer able to stifle her disdain. “Why is it always a fight with you? Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“Charlotte,” he warned, not bothering to look at her.

“For the last time, it’s Charlie ,” she opposed, fuming. “I just… we were managing just fine. Why does this even matter to you?”

“Charlie,” he spat, his voice laced with venom. “Just when I think there might be hope for your future, you set yourself up for failure. You are a disappointment and an embarrassment to me, and I grow tired of your insolence.”

Each word spoken was like a dagger in Charlie’s heart. She was trying so hard to be strong, but she was close to breaking down. Unable to hold back any longer, you snapped.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

The words had left your mouth before you could stop them. The whole room fell silent as everyone turned to Lucifer to gauge his reaction.

“Beg your pardon?” he inquired, his expression stoic.

Swallowing thickly, you continued, “Why are you being so unnecessarily cruel? She’s your daughter , and she’s been nothing but kind and helpful since I arrived. Why do you have to openly mock and demean her like that?”

His eyes searched yours as you stood frozen, waiting for him to slaughter you on the spot for talking back to him. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed, clearly entertained by your ignorance. However, just as you thought he was going to let it go, you were thrown up against the wall, his hand at your throat as he lifted you from the ground. Your nails raked at his hands while your feet scuffled, trying to find anything to lift you and alleviate the pressure on your neck.

“Silly pet,” he hissed, his eyes becoming snake-like as he glared at you. “You’re here as my guest, and I am a courteous host, but make no mistake… should you cross me, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

Finally, he let go, allowing your body to slump to the ground as you choked and gasped for air.

Brushing off his sleeves and straightening out his jacket, Lucifer sighed before speaking. “She will remain here temporarily until I can make proper arrangements.”

No one spoke as he looked down at you on the ground, grinning wickedly. “Take care, human. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, he saw himself out, not bothering to utter another word, leaving behind a haunting silence in his wake.

You hardly noticed the hand that was being extended to you as you sat on the ground, dazed by the interaction. When you glanced up, you saw that the hand belonged to Alastor, who was offering you a casual smile. “How are you so happy all the time?” you grumbled as you took his hand, allowing him to haul you to your feet.

“A smile does not necessarily convey happiness,” he explained as he looked you over. “Hell is prominently filled with barbaric individuals who favor crass behavior above all else. It’s quite dull. I myself am in favor of a more amiable approach.”

Before you could respond, Charlie approached you, wrapping her arms around you as she pulled you into a tight embrace. “Are you okay?” she asked, still tightly coiled around you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”

Retracting herself, she nodded glumly. “I’m used to it. In case you couldn’t tell, my dad and I don’t exactly have the best relationship. And as much as I appreciate what you did, you really need to be careful. He holds grudges, and you don’t want to get on his bad side.”

Nodding your head, you asked, “What happened to Vaggie?”

Sighing, Charlie answered, “She always makes herself scarce when he’s around. It goes without saying that Vaggie is a bit… outspoken, and she doesn’t want to slip up and say something that she’ll regret. She knows that it will only make things worse for us.”

“Ah, got it.”

Alastor thumped his cane against the wooden floor to gain your attention. “Well, my dear. It seems that we are on the clock. I think it would be best to get you back into the mortal world before Lucifer can carry out his plans. Make no mistake, he’s a cheeky fellow, but you do not want to be caught in his web.”

“Hey! What you got against webs?” Angel Dust popped his head in the doorway, scowling at the Radio Demon.

“Nothing at all, Mr. Dust!” Alastor replied cheerily. “It’s a simple comparison.”

“I’m going to go check on Vaggie,” Charlie stated. “After that, we can come up with a plan. There’s got to be something more that we can do than just go through books to try and get you home,” she thought out loud, a determined gleam in her eye.

As she left, Alastor approached you, placing a bony hand on your shoulder, which he meant as a comfort, but instead had the opposite effect, sending a chill down your spine. “Fear not, my dear. I will not let anything happen to you.”

With a wink, he withdrew his hand and glided out of the room, humming a show tune on his way out, leaving you alone with Angel Dust.

“Guess I missed all the fun,” he quipped before he flung back onto the bed, placing his top set of arms around his head. “Heard the Big Guy was in. He’s a charmer, ain’t he?”

“You know him?” you asked, your interest piqued.

He shrugged his shoulders casually. “Not personally. But I hear the gossip. Val can’t stand him.”

“Am I supposed to know who Val is?”

Rolling his eyes, he replied, “He’s the top dog around these parts, sweetheart. Big Vee controls the black market of Hell, and that’s sayin’ somethin’. You wanna know somethin’ outside the norm? He’s your guy.”

Humming thoughtfully for a moment, you asked, “Do you think he’d know anything about returning me to my world?”

“Probably,” he teased, brushing his hair back. “Val knows lots a weird stuff. He might be your guy.”

“Where do I find him?” you pressed, eager for more information.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the spider demon cautioned. “You don’t just show up unannounced. You need an appointment, toots.”

“Okay,” you sighed, losing your patience. “Can you set up an appointment?”

“I could… but what would you do for me in return?”

Narrowing your eyes, you asked, “Seriously?”

He flashed a smile at you, showing off his golden tooth as he wriggled his eyebrows.

“What is it that you want, Angel?”

“How’s about an I.O.U.? I do this for you, and you owe me a favor. Capiche?”

“How do I even know that I can trust you,” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

In mock offense, Angel Dust put a hand over his heart, dropping his jaw. “Well, that’s just rude. I’m trustworthy! I haven’t told a soul about your relationship with Smiles!”

Huffing, you snapped, “There is no relationship! You just keep walking in at the wrong time!”

“Uh huh,” he teased, snickering. “Either way, I’ve kept my mouth shut, even when there was nothing in it for me. If you wanna talk to Val, I can make that happen, but no more of this free shit. You owe me. Got it?”

“Ugh, okay, fine. Just… make it fast, please.”

Jumping up from the bed, the spider blew you a kiss before heading out on his mission, leaving you with an uneasy feeling in your gut. If only you knew what you had just done.

Tags: @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @edgy-drama-queen @chasingfireflies1999 @galaxy-meteor @cecidit-31 @shadowclawstudio88 @utterly-disappointing @opheliuva @trinswhimsys  @skylarhedges @whogavebrynjolfpermissiontobehot @sailor-earth-1

[earthnashes]

Hey ya’ll! For some reason I ended up thinkin’ a lot about past experiences in school and figured I’d write about a couple of ‘em. Since it might get long-ish I’ll put it all down underneath the cut, but in the meantime, unless you don’t mind me sharing my personal thoughts and stories at random here, I might make a separate blog for this stuff. We’ll see! o3o At any rate, those school stories!

I dunno if ya’ll know about this since I rarely ever mention it but I went to SCAD for college (Graduated like a year ago). And as much as I absolutely loved the majority of my time there, there were a couple of instances I don’t look back on fondly. :/

Aight so this first story was my first year in SCAD, and I was in my very first animation class. I fuckin’ loved this class, it was so much fun, we had to learn the old-fashioned way animations were made with flip-techniques and light tables and what have you. It was overall a good time. I met some good people there too, but I usually sat in the back corner and ended up talking with a group of folks the majority of the class. Keep in mind, we were allowed to have conversations while we worked.

I’ll admit I can get pretty loud; my voice just naturally carries and can raise in volume more than what’s normal, I guess. But at some point the professor decided the back corner was being too rowdy and instead of addressing everyone in that corner, she would specifically single me out. The first time or so I understood ‘cuz maybe I was being too loud and forgot to watch my voice, but the next couple days continued like that even when I wasn’t really talking and focusing more on working. It eventually lead to me just not talking all-together or keeping my answers short and low to avoid being singled out, but even then it still happened.

It eventually led to one day, before class starts and I hadn’t even set my stuff down that my teacher pulled me aside and asked if I could move to sit closer to her to “try something out”. She said it was to make sure I wasn’t “getting a rise out of my peers” or some shit like that, but I didn’t understand why she thought I was the source of it, but I complied anyway. Infuriated me and was so embarrassing to basically be made to sit in an isolated corner, so much so I remember calling my mom during class break in my car to avoid anyone seeing me upset.

Well lo-and-behold, a few days go by with me sitting in that little space and speaking to basically no one until class was over, and the corner carries on as loud and as rowdy as it had been without me. Professor can’t single me out this time, I’m not over there, so she addresses the entire corner. Eventually I’m allowed to sit wherever I want when she realizes, ya know, it isn’t me making all the noise or “getting a rise out of people”, but even after that she never singled anyone else out, or pulled anyone else aside. Didn’t even attempt to talk to the other people in the corner, just kinda. Left it at that?

Ever since that specific incident I kept to myself during class for the most part, but she had started calling specifically on me after that to share my thoughts to the class on whatever we were doing. Always said “I wanna hear what you think, Ashante’.” at some point during discussions. I don’t know why though, she hadn’t done anything like that before; maybe her strange way of apologizing or something. She eventually stopped, thank god, but it had bothered me for a while after, even after I passed the class.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another story in college that was sorta-kinda of the same vein happened I think still my first year at SCAD. This time it was in a different class, like a semester after the previous story, and it was a computer graphics class. I wasn’t very fond of this class but the teacher seemed okay, if a little boring. 

Uhhhh but anyway. We had an animation assignment and the first step of it was for everyone to do a storyboard of what we wanted to animate. I loved this project, it was the only real enjoyable one of the class, so of course I finished my storyboard and all that good stuff. The entire class turns the assignment in and we have a critique, like not one person missed this assignment and we all went up and presented what we had and we discussed. Two facts I want ya’ll to keep in mind is 1. the assignment was required to be turned in digitally so we could present it via projector, and 2. the professor participated in the critique, so he saw that literally everyone in the class did the fucking assignment and turned it in ON TIME, I need to stress that.

So, a few days pass, we’re working on our animations, and our grades are up for us to see on the online board thing; can’t remember what it was called but you were able to check whenever you want to keep tabs on your grade. So, I sit down at my computer and check my grade before class starts. I had kept a consistent high-B in this class, so imagine my complete shock when that shit was at a fucking D. My grade dropped from being like a 89 to a 69 in one week, and the only assignment that was turned in that could have affected it at that point was the storyboard one. So I look at that grade. It’s a fucking 0. I got a 0 on it. There’s no explanation, just a blank 0 staring back at me and I’m deeply confused.

That’s when my friend next to me asks “hey uh, what’d you get for your storyboard??” I told her, and she tells me she got the exact same thing. The dude next to us overhead and was like “wait, you too??? My grade dropped so low, what gives?” We end up asking the entire class and EVERYONE. GOT. A. ZERO. On this assignment. Everyone. So, we’re flabbergasted and there’s almost visible question marks above our heads, then the professor waltz in. We’re all kinda clambering for an explanation but he’s like “hold on, I need to say a piece before we start class”. After he sits his shit down he goes on to say “how disappointed he was” at us for not turning in the previous assignment and talks about how he’s never experienced having to fail an entire class like that before over one assignment. And of course everyone’s like ????????? You were there?? We had a critique?? YOU WERE ABLE TO ACCESS THEM ON YOUR COMPUTER????

And then he basically says “well, computer’s are never wrong, and as far as I see no one turned it in, so I’m afraid everyone will have to get a 0. Do better next time.″

So, we’re furious, but there isn’t a lot we can do when he kinda refuses to hear us out and starts the class. So during break, I tell my friend that I’m gonna try and talk to the professor. A few others decide to join me and about 6 of us approach him about it. I distinctly remember my friend hiding behind me when we proposed the possibility that, ohhh I dunno, the drop-box system glitched or some shit. Keep in mind that DropBox, which was a shared stashing system the professors made students use to turn their work in, is notorious for losing files. Every other professor I’ve had up to that point has warned us about it, some even barely trusted it to the point of just recommending us turning our work in via email.

He, again, refuses to hear us out because he claims “the computer doesn’t spontaneously glitch like that” DESPITE EVERYTHING. We’re arguing for a little bit before he doesn’t wanna hear it anymore and we’re told to basically drop it, and the group disperses. I’m the last one to try my luck with it, and he says if you have such a problem with it, we can talk about it sometime this week during my office hours. So I tell him absolutely, i’m not about to take a zero when I know I turned that shit in.

The day comes and I get to his office, and it isn’t just him in the office but also the Dean of that specific department. It catches me off guard a little but still, I’m thinkin’ alright, well maybe if he won’t listen the department head will. But I barely get a chance to talk, because before I really say anything the professor basically goes “so I’ve had a discussion with our dean here, and we’re both in agreement with my decision, but in case it’ll help you feel better he wanted to tell you in person.”

And the dean proceeds to say, and I quote, “Computers are not living entities who decide to delete things or have tiny little evil viruses that magically wipe away data. They do not make mistakes like people do. If the computer says you didn’t turn your assignment in, then you didn’t, and I need you to let go of the idea that something went wrong here because it didn’t. Okay sweetie?”

It’s one of the few instances I distinctly remember being spoken down to like I was a fucking idiot. He had his head tilted down and his eyebrows raised and he was kinda standing over me like he was trying to talk down a child and I hated it. The professor was off to the side just kinda nodding his head and it felt really strange to be in the office at that point. I didn’t wanna be there anymore so, I said thank you for your time, and the head just kinda smirked at me and left. I think it kinda shook me cuz I remember trying not to shake too much. The professor pulled me aside before I could leave and was apologizing for getting his supervisor involved, and said he hoped it answered any issues I may have had about the assignment problem.

I told him it did, then said “If I won’t get help from either of you, I’ll just take it to the president of the school.”

He said something along the lines of “if it makes you feel better, then okay”, and I left feeling some type of way. I hated it.

Soooo I do, I send an email to the president explaining the situation about the whole class being failed on this specific assignment, we trying to reason with the professor, him not trying to do anything about it and how the dean was equally unhelpful, and I can’t remember exactly what I said in the email but it was basically me asking her what steps I should take in order to rectify the issue. She didn’t actually reply to me, but not even two days after I sent the email the professor pulls me aside and basically says that he “gave it more thought” and made a point to say that, while he still stood by what he said about computers not being capable of glitching the way it had, he’d “give the whole class the appropriate grades” we deserved since he finally acknowledges that we did have a critique he was fucking present for.

My overall grade jumped from a 69 to a 90-something after I was given my actual grade. Everyone else’s grades came back up too. I’m almost sure i’m the only one who pursued it since he seemed to be pulling only me aside, but it’s awful convenient he changed his tune right after I emailed the president of the school, so I think she must’ve talked to him and the Dean at the very least.

I really didn’t like that professor after that.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Sooooo yeah. A couple of stories from school that really stuck in my memory despite it being years ago. I have a couple more I might share, most of them silly and fun but a few not so fun, but we’ll see! Maybe after I start a journal blog for the sole purpose of reblogging stuff and talkin’ my thoughts. I dunno, though. o3o

BUT in the meantime, feel free to share your own college/school experiences! I’m always interested to hear about how ya’ll went about school. O:

[tylerwritez]

Tuesday, june 22 2021

I've noticed I'm getting "the shiverys" or "the twitchy" a lot today. Like every time I FEEL something I take a moment to violently tic.... every time I think about certain things I tic.... good things, bad things, things from an hour ago and things from years ago. Tic, tic, tic.

Also, I have... some stuff to explain. Its really no big deal, but you know me: I'll freak out about it anyway. Basically I dissed my friend (rightfully so) around the time that we had just met cos they did something that threw me off.

He saw it in my phone... NOW. it's not RELEVANT anymore and I've since redacted that criticism...and now I gotta explain it to him anwyays. Oh well. I'm good at this stuff. I can get myself outta any situation. I dont even know why I'm talking like this tho... it's not a "Situation" it's just smthn I gotta explain rq.

Oh, today's song recommendation is Spirit Crusher by Death. I'm a huge Death fan...

Also! I gotta study... for my replacement exam. How stressful. Its about photosynthesis, but like, it's not simple. We went DEEP inside those fucking leaves.

One sec, lemme hook up my IV tube

Not an ACTUAL IV tube... just my headphones. But since I'm so #emo, it might as well be a fucking IV tube with the way that I cant live without it.

Its 3:08 and I'm walking home now. I was upset last night but me and Star have made up now lol... it was thAt easy. I'm so defective, making shit hard when it doesnt need to be.

It's so hot out damn. Idk. I had school today, so I had Bio class... I ACTUALLY PAID ATTENTION for once. I had lunch with Star and her friend group, and I honestly kinda feel like they're MY friends now too, even just a little bit.

Actually, I used to rant about feeling lonely like all the time but now I have so many friends it's crazy they all keep inviting me places and it's like people WANT ME AROUND... idk. It makes me happy.

Today I gotta ask if tommroow after school I can go to Bee's house to watch Supernatural (famous homoerotic ghost show)

I should also add songs to Erin's spotify playlist for our picnic saturday which I still need permission to go to.

I gotta ask for Wednesday after school to watch Insidious with Jay  which is apparently really good

Also hes the friend that I gotta explain stuff to... the DrAmA... the ThEaTrE....

Update my dad said yes to hanging out with Bee but first I'm gonna miss school to fix my broken brackets on my braces

Also turns out the house I THOUGHT we were moving into has substantial damage from shifting so... we aRENT moving there.

In case you didn't know, shifting is when like the house that's been built literally SHIFTS like it moves around.

Anwyays Jay just texted me... I'm gonna change into shorts since it's hot, set up my study area,.... and respond to him.

The time is 3:22 p.m.

Wish me. Luck.

Luck is plentiful! As it so often is in my risky, risky life.

I play my cards right. It's a learnt skill.

But also there wasnt much to explain since it passed already and was tiny anywyas.

XD so I've made up with the whole goddamn world by now.

Its 6:31, we saw 1 house. Only one. Its kinda hot out but I'm gonna bike now since we just had supper. I finally finished my homework... I just have to finish one mixed media piece as my final project for art!

Friday is my replacement. On photosynthesis and cell resp. We know this. But what I didn't mention, or I dont THINK I did, is that if I finish my art project before then I have the second block FREE!!! Me, Star, and her friend

A are planning to leave for second block and maybe get mint chocolate chip ice cream!

Also I might eat her out XD

Anyways idk. I hope I can bike tonight to call Jay.

I keep accidentally using people's real names here then having to correct it... I dont know how much i care about MY identity being discovered... but to have my friends doxxed would suck.

Man I feel bad abt saying fuck star last night cos we made up....

Wait we r looking at another house? Idk I'm in the car still waiting to go home

Oh wait no now we r goin home

Its 6:39... I hope I still have time.

I went biking, called Jay. Went home. Idk, friendly conversation... we talked more tonight and I also talked to my other friend A. Jay is... I LOVE HIM?? SO MUCH??? I feel so happy. Talking to him thinking about him seeing his STUPID FUCKING FACE JESUS. his eyes alone... I could stare at his face all day probably. I want to kiss him... hOLD HIS HAND... omg... huG HIM!!! Eofjwpxjwie he's so sweet like I can't even... and I'm proabably not good enough for him like. Wtf. Hes easily a 10. And I dont rate things outta 10. How tf do I end up with HIM? Doing stuff, as friends. Like wHAT. I guess I got lucky XD. He says he loves my personality and I'm hot XD ofc I dont see it myself. But like. JESUS CHRIST he could proabably easily pull whOever. XD me?

Whatever though. As long as we r together and stuff. I LOVE HIM A LOT. he said he loved me. Every time he says that it makes me so overly happy.

Maybe I'm just sappy and stuff.... whatever. I think it would be nice to be hugged by him.

Yeah I'm cheesy.

I'm sorta tired now so maybe I'm not writing the best.

I just keep thinkinf about love. Love is a muscle of evil suggestion. But how evil can it really be? I am just a human being and that is all. Everything else is applied. I am just a human being with soemthing in my heart that pulls me all over the place. Love is this strange thing because I'm fucked up and to be able to love without that fucked up part of me, without the damage... is this complicated, hard thing to do and I can NEVER tell if I'm doing it right but I know I'm DOING IT. I know I FEEL LOVE. And soemtimes it's such an intense thing like when you go to surf on a wave at the beach with ur belly but u hit it wrong and it's so big and overwhelming it washes over you and PULLS you down to the bottom and smushes your face into the sand and YOU CANT BREATHE jesus Christ it's like that.

Or maybe I just want to experience love as it should be felt.

Obviously all of my problems surrounding this Damage could be easily fixed if I went to therapy but. there are reasons I can't.

I LOVE a lot. Too much for my own good. Enough to hurt me, get me into trouble, etc etc but also... enough to liberate me. I LOVE. I love Jay. So much. LIKE. MY BRAIN ORBITS AROUND HIM CONSTANTLY THINKING OF HIM AND PRAISING HIM AND MWUAH HE IS SO LOVELY I BOW BEFORE HIM...

I think as much as I love, a lot of the times I tend to focus even more on BEING loved.

If I am told I am loved, and shOwN I am loved... it is one of the most powerful things. Especially since I was literally emotionally neglected in childhood... yeah. I feel like I'm always trying to fill that hole.

Not EVERY feeling I have is for that reaosn but sometimes, if you tell me you love me, show me you love me, hug me,... I'll like start crying,,, that's the childhood emotional neglect kicking in. If you call me #smol and #cute and say I look young and fragile which happens more often than you'd think XD, I know I'm not supposed to like that shit, so I act like I dont....but I do. Which is PROBABLY ALSO THE CEN 🤪  like whatever lol

Anwyays I'm fucked up

You see how quickly things become complicated in my mind?

Convoluted? Is that the word?

Whatever. I OVERCOMPLICATE THINGS COS I OVERTHINK THEM BECAUSE I'm LITERALLY MENTALLY ILL IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS. I'm not joking. I obviously have unresolved undiagnosed "issues"

I do Suspect things, though.

I can make a list

Maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe I will.

I shouldnt.

Whatever.

I used to hate when people brought up my self harm. I would actually panic. I still self harm but now? Now I'm fine with anyone  talking about it as long as it's not an adult who can get me into trouble/force me into therapy over it. Because really? I kinda like having it mentioned. It's kinda validating and it's like hey... people can see that I'm sick.

I dont do it so people talk to me about it though. Dont get me wrong. If I did, I'd go vertically on the arms, not for suicide but so it healed and people would ask XD.

My scars are actually VERY hidden... cos I never intended for ANYONE to see. But for those who DO see them,,,, it's nice soemtimes to have people express concern.

I dont wanna be PITIED or anything, but idk I just think to myself "wow, they're CONCERNED... about ME... they arent angry or mean... they didnt yell at me or threaten me... they respect my autonomy and privacy...

And they CARE ABOUT ME..." and it makes me cry.

That's also the CEN.

I dont know. I just like when people express genuine concern. Even if they see and then just ask if I'm okay. That's all it takes cos then I go wow.

Its validating and irs lovely because finally people care... FINALLY PEOPLE CARE. FINALLY I GET SOME EMPATHY OR SYMPATHY AND NO ANGER.

Even just having them brought up tells me its noticeable enough

My brain does this thing where it thinks nothing bad that's ever happened to me was Bad Enough for me to be upset about.

And I dont know... its nice sometimes to be told shit like "omg that looks so bad" or to see that people who do see my cuts are somewhat shocked or revolted... it's nice because I go... "hey, it was bad enough for them..."

Or to have people comment on them with concern. Just ANYTHINT WHERE PEOPLE NOTICE IT AND ARENT ASSHOLES ABOUT IT IS VALIDATING.

Because I'm not used to that...

Because CEN

I'm. The worst perosn on the fucking planet.

I should kill myself.

I suddenly actually feel so self hating I do want to kill myself... oh god.

I ruin everything. Everything. Everything. Everything. What have I done. Like. Why. Oh god.

I'm just remembering when Star said my kindness seemed like an act. And how I've been called out for seeming fake like 2 other times.

DO I SEEM FAKE???? I DONT EVER PUT ON ACTS OF KINDESS.... CONCIOUSLY? but the very idea that I could be perceived that way...

Should I like not try to be nice or some shit?

Jesus christ she hurts my feelings even now when it was a long time ago.

But I cant blame her. I can't blame anyone for how i feel except my parents because they left me with fucking. Heart nerve damage or some shit.

I'm tired and now I'm sad too. Goodnight guys.

[wellhalesbells]

fic help

i recently finished a fic project that got well out of hand and i’m having trouble jumping to my next.  since this last wasn’t sterek, or even tw, i would very much like to scarper back there but i cannot seem to settle on a project that does it for me (or, well, they kind of all do it for me, hence the problem).  

if you have the time and inclination and want to help me choose, i would very much appreciate it!

1. 

He opens his eyes to sharp sunlight, rays that’ve had time to hone themselves, coalesce, and start stabbing at strategic places in the apartment.  Like the backs of Derek’s eyelids.  The comforter around him is rumpled up, bunched in places from a restless sleeper.  Which he isn’t.  He frowns before it comes back to him.

Laura’s bed.

Stiles.

He’d woken up earlier in the pitch black with Stiles’ forehead pressed into the valley between his shoulder blades, breath a warm and reliable puff through his thin t-shirt, his hand clenched on the hill of Derek’s bicep, snagging him, pulling him back against him.

Derek hadn’t brushed him off.  Though it had given him a moment’s pause, strange without the swell of breasts between them, fingers digging and pulling him close to an unmistakably masculine chest.  But only a moment’s; he’d been asleep again minutes later.

He scrubs at the rough brillo on his jaw, the scent of coffee finally breaking through the haze of exhaustion.  He swings his legs out, toes flexing on the warm floorboards, and squints out the window at the brilliant day.  “Rain finally stopped,” he says, voice scratchy and breath foul.

[notes: a total au set in new york. laura’s been murdered and stiles was laura and derek’s emissary, though never that close to the grumpy younger brother. now they have to work together to find out who killed her, while coming to terms with the fact that the piece that made them work is gone.]

2.

“You’re letting demons possess you.”  It should come out scolding, furious, but Derek is too numb from the revelation.  Too willing to be wrong, to believe he’s misunderstood Stiles’ meaning.

Stiles squints, that slow roll and stretch of his muscles shifting his weight, clenching and unclenching his fingers on his forearms, an absentminded exploration of his regular capabilities now he was back in control of them.  “Can we really call it a ‘possession’ when I’m calling more shots than they do?  I advertise like an Air BnB and run the place like Alcatraz.  If I enjoy the power bump of my fire rose, well, isn’t that just a reward for doing the dirty work?  It’s all win-win on this side of the negotiating table.”

[notes: this is wholly because of the exchange between stiles and a recently met liam in canon, when stiles explains he was possessed by an evil spirit, and liam asks, “what are you now?” and stiles says, “better,” instead of ‘human.’ and i had a ‘well, well, welllll’ moment.]

3.

After a week or so, his mail’s transmuted from warm air and a spattering of dirt into a flyer for a pizza place roughly five miles away and an offer for a credit card.  He walks back up, the stairs offering a little less protestation, papers gripped tight in his hand and slips through the half-open door, rolling it closed behind him.

The heartbeat that knocks against his eardrums is sudden and unbalancing.

His head whips up, fangs dropping.

“Total cry for help, didn’t need a warrant.”  Gloved hands with bare fingers walk up the underside of a dried, brown leaf and the sick-sweet scent of decay slides into one of freshness and health.  The fern blossoms above the scratch of blunt fingernails along spidery veins.  Green belches out, overflows from the small clay pot.

[notes: um, definitely a derek returning to beacon hills fic and an uber powerful stiles, beyond that... ??? but i can make it a thing, heh ;)]

4.

Stiles rubs the pads of his fingers together, wiping the sticky residue off on his jeans.  Goes back in with his teeth.  A piece of electrical tape from the handle of his bat tears away.  It’s lost some of its adhesive but it’ll work for his purposes.  He catches the call before the last of ‘Good Old Days’ can fade out.

“‘Sup, Growls?”

A disappointed whuff of breath greets him.  “Your camera’s blocked because—?”  Scott cuts him off before he can even attempt a reply.  “Injured, lying, or underground?”

“You know one day I’ll score that entire trifecta and then?  Then I’m going to Disney World.”  Scott doesn’t bite and Stiles sighs.  “Busted it chasing those lady-hyena-things.  On the upside, I’m only one phone away from filling up my punch card.”

[notes: a harder, living-away-from-beacon-hills-after-he-and-derek-broke-up stiles in this and hunting down supes on his own, because he’s reckless and terrifying and an emotional landmine waiting to explode.]

5.

“No.  No, no.  Hey, no.  I see what you’re doing over there and I don’t ap—”  The stack of books leans too far and cascades down the front of the dresser, hits his floor, and explodes in every direction.  “What did I just say?”

His door whaps open, knob meet wall, and Scott stands there with a baking sheet held aloft in his hands.  “We don’t have renter’s insurance,” he offers, swinging it wildly in front of him.

“You say that as you put a knob-sized hole in my wall?”

Scott opens his eyes, which he’s scrunched closed as he pendulumed the baking supplies around.  He frowns at the flung door.  His stance goes from ‘making cookies my bitch’ to ‘depressed egg.’  “In my defense, I assumed we were being robbed.”

Stiles pats his head now that the baking sheet is no longer a weapon.  “And you also thought the robber would be compassionate enough not to rob us if he knew we don’t have renter’s insurance.”

[notes: i have literally no clue, i don’t remember the impetus for this AT ALL but i could definitely work with it, lol.]

6.

Stiles had finally arrived home for the holiday break, two days after he’d initially promised and with a half-hearted, what-can-you-do sort of shrug that offered little by way of explanation or excuse, and he’d flung himself out of the Jeep with his arms uncovered.  Derek had frowned hard seeing it for the first time.

He’s still frowning now.

Galaxy black ink bands both of Stiles’ wrists like delicate bracelets and creeps up his forearms in curving, flowing lines that vary in size and width.  It might look something like seaweed dancing in an underwater current if not for the fact that, well — Derek glances down at his own bare forearms —

If not for the fact that it looks like pain.  Pain the way he knows it, secondhand and agonizing.  Pain that is tarry black anguish glutting his veins and poisoning his blood.

He’s not going to analyze why Stiles would choose to etch that into his skin.

Mostly because he doesn’t need to.

Derek knows what the nogitsune did to him, and he knows Stiles hasn’t come close to putting that behind him, or done much to try to.

[notes: long after stiles has contented himself with being the token human of the pack, his spark manifests, unfortunately not... well and doubly unfortunately, long after deaton has left town. scott will only accept one emissary now so stiles has to try to figure out how to properly become one.  it’s not going well, and not only because no one can seem to figure out why his spark ‘works’ the way it does but also because, after the nogitsune, power hardly rests easy on stiles’ shoulders.]

7.

It’s really fucking with his head how much Derek’s whole creature-of-the-night thing isn’t jiving with his sleeping-until-noon existence.

And it’s not just that Derek can’t seem to grasp that Stiles’ skin is a living record.  That when there’s the clear afterimage of a mouth on his neck, he and his dad have to valiantly pretend neither one of them notice it for the next week.  It’s not just that though.  It’s also—

Stiles has secrets.  He likes them.  Collects them.  It’s a comfort thing, a control thing maybe.  Sometimes they’re big, sometimes they’re not, but they’re always his.   Theories, actions, thoughts, things of his own that will only ever be his.  

Except.

Except he doesn’t have secrets, not anymore, not around a fucking werewolf.  Derek can smell them through his pores, hear him chasing them down from across a crowded room, cock his head and listen to the lie in his pulse.  There’s nothing sacred anymore, nothing private, and Stiles can’t anymore.

[notes: okay, it’s just... i never see this? and, being honest, i could not date a friggin’ werewolf. i’m not even a secret person as much as i just enjoy being alone and you would have to make sustained EFFORT to be alone - you’d have to go farther, mask whatever you did if you didn’t want it known, have someone who wouldn’t ask why or what you were doing (which is just like when people ask me NOW what i’m doing and i don’t want to say ‘writing explicit gay sex, thanks for asking, mom’).  i’m not on board. i could totes see stiles not being on board and, of course, he’d rather magic a ‘solution’ than have a conversation, my dumb little dummy. this one would definitely need the most work since i would probably rewrite everything i’ve already got, it just doesn’t... gel well.]

[viktcrr]

「maxence danet-fauvel & nonbinary」⇾ samuels, viktor, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that he/they are a capricorn and 24 years old. he/they are studying visual arts, living in noland and can be observant, ingenious, reticent & dependent. when i see him/them i am reminded of a sculptor’s hands clay-ridden, the insistent hum of tv static, and a crying preacher inside a dusty funeral home.  ⇽「james & 21 & est & they/them.」

hllo !!! i’m james n here’s one of my big idiot muses <3 he’s not actually dumb he’s :/ a bit evil. bt thts okay hes still <3 beloved <3 LKDSFHLSADLKGFSHLKD anyways!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

aesthetic.

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts, graveyards and half-empty wine bottles, sitting there for hours and talking to nothing, about nothing, a god complex, gold rings adorning both hands, barbwire baseball bats, having never played baseball in your life, deep eyebags and broken mirrors, a permanent chip on one’s shoulder, yearning, longing, wishing.

basic info.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: pansexual uwu

pinterest

stats

inspired by: beetlejuice (beetlejuice), sid (toy story), jack sparrow (pirates of the caribbean), francis wilkerson (malcolm in the middle), azula (avatar: the last airbender), vicky (the fairly oddparents), stu macher / billy loomis (scream), marshall lee (adventure time), bojack horseman (bojack horseman), any it’s always sunny character :/

biography.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in rochester, new york - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

was an awkward, quiet kid growing up, he didn’t interact well with others and preferred being left alone to dig up worms and draw on the walls of their childhood home. the only exception was his twin, really.

as he got older he grew out of this, but instead became like … sort of an asshole? maybe to compensate for years of childhood awkwardness. he’s the sort of person who will bite the hand that feeds him & developed into a full time nuisance by middle school, unlike tatiana who was much more subtle about her conniving manners.

always has been a fan of ‘darker’ materials. grim & creepy morbid shit. probably the biggest tim burton fan, ever since he was a kid … not a good look for a preacher’s son, but he never really felt ‘in’ with the rest of his family to begin with. classic black sheep syndrome.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his Thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

being twins with tatiana was hard. they were near opposite besides both being quite mean-spirited. tatiana handled being in public better, left a better image behind - but viktor had talent, more than she did. they loved each other deeply - y’know, those unbreakable twin bonds as cliche as it sounds - but found each other as competition for their parents’ attention. a rivalry for affection.

in high school is when viktor really started to act out. it started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service & almost had an exorcism performed on him.

his only redeemable trait was like … just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3D art AP course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because he was the problem child, the one who deserved to be disciplined for all his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with whatever she wanted much easier. on the bright-side, for her, i guess.

not a very motivated person - wasn’t planning on going to college, much less going to radcliffe but his parents literally wrote & sent his college application for him because they weren’t going to house a deadbeat but had too much heart to kick him out onto the streets. cool!

he’s actually pretty smart but he just doesn’t apply himself. has a minor in english because he didn’t care for an extra course-load, but he’s good at writing & analyzing literature. is going to use it to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s. not for the kids, but because he likes to leave a trail of terror in whatever he does.

has been experimenting with himself since high school but college is where he really had started to crack down on himself. was out as pansexual & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college just … not to his parents, who don’t really need to know.

if you asked him if he believed in twins having a psychic connection with each other - he’d tell you he wouldn’t know. it felt believable at times, but sometimes he had no idea what was going on inside of tatiana’as head. on the other hand - viktor had always felt oddly transparent to her, like she knew all of his moves before he did. the only person who could predict him accurately.

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

when tatiana disappeared, viktor knew something was up. it was a twist in his gut, pure instinct that something wasn’t right. and it wasn’t right - and when she was proclaimed missing, they couldn’t find her.

and when tatiana died - viktor knew. it felt wrong, something cut so severely in him he could pinpoint her death to the second. he didn’t know how, or why, but he knew it. knew it before anybody else had.

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

his mental health had also sunk to an all-time low, when it’d never been great to begin with. (manic & depressive episodes. once fixated on a sculpting project for six months and then knocked it off the table and destroyed it as soon as he finished it for no apparent reason.)

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was … viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to radcliffe to finish his senior year because … for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief, especially since the one year anniversary of tatiana’s death was this month (january) - causes him to spiral and be unpredictable in regards of his mental health. he stopped taking his medication, so. :/ some days are alright, other days are pretty bad.

UPDATE: now that summer’s come n go ... viktor hs been thru <3 a lot <3 recently. switched therapists (his :/ last one got her license revoked) & started new medications, went to a treatment center briefly ‘cos .. he wasn’t doing too well :/ bt now he’s back baybey! trying to be better n trying to be sober but ... :/

personality.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears … that’s them!

a big horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies & probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than they should because they just … love those black & white vertical-striped pants.

can appreciate the lore & cryptids at radcliffe and likes to feed into the fear that surrounds them. is probably the cause of a few ‘anomalies’ and ‘paranormal sightings’ because they’re just … a jerk.

fashion alternates between e-boy (they would be tiktok famous if they were 17 & didn’t think that a majorly minor based app was weird.), millennial beetlejuice, and goth in a crop top & sweatpants. big fan of crop tops and a big fan of sweatpants.

they can be really fucking mean? petty, aggressive, a major instigator. will literally spit in your face for little to no reason, you could just look at them the wrong way. the kind of person who will stick their gum into someone else’s hair. other than that? they’re like … sort of okay. they’re not always mean, just a dick about 90% of the time lmao

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s … a Lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

pansexual & nonbinary, switches between he & they pronouns often and without a pattern, but they have such a fragile grip on their identity that you could call them ‘dog-faced bitch’ and they’d turn around like. sup.

vastly impulsive … like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all teir money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

they’re very super dramatic. would play the organ at church when nobody was looking after them and service was about to start. would just churn out these super haunting, creepy melodies like they were phantom of the opera. would do the same exact thing at home on their keyboard with the pipe organ setting whenever they got grounded until their parents took it away HBDSJFNGKH

will absolutely not talk about their ‘time away’ because it’s not anyone’s business, not even their own younger sister. still refuses to talk about tatiana’s death, or their mental health, or their addiction (fallen back into it but it hasn’t gotten severe … yet :/), or anything involving their own emotions.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

that being said they’re absolutely not over tatiana’s death & it’s to the point of obsession over it. like there’s some kind of secret that needs to be uncovered, even though there just. isn’t. tatiana was their rock and they were pretty much dependent on her. kept them grounded. could control them when nobody else could, got into their head easier than others. it’s sort of like rosa lost two siblings that day because viktor hasn’t been the same since.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

will tell you straight up what they want from you, no bullshit & no beating around the bush. just blunt. if they want to fuck, nothing else, then that’s it. if they feel deviation or developing feelings then they’ll ghost in less than a second. is awful like that but feels no shame.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

they go to therapy but they just fuck around and wastes their therapists’ time … also is fucking their therapist, but that’s neither here nor there. so they’re not really getting the help they need.

likes to be intimidating but not … with their body or anything because they’re a TWIG but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

i don’t know if there’s a good to them somewhere deep down, but they don’t see any issues with themself either. nothing really breaks through to them anymore because the only person who ever made them stop and think about their actions was tatiana, and well, y’know. :/

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

pretty observant and likes to analyze people even though they’re often like … partially wrong. judgmental because they like to make people feel bad, not because they’re a righteous mighty person. because they’re not. so like, a hypocrite!

wanted connections.

a roommate… but it’s an absolute nightmare to live with him.

enemies… because viktor would have a lot of them…

familiar faces… people who knew tatiana or of her / were her friends. maybe even those who dated her, and who viktor would’ve tried to intimidate / scare at any given chance :/

pitiful glances… people who take pity on viktor and he hates it sooo much.

hooligan gremlin kids… just a friend group of grown ass adults who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers.

high school girlfriend… probably the one he lost his virginity to inside his family church :/

childhood acquaintances… people who knew him from his youth.

exes… good & bad terms, but mostly bad terms because viktor is an actual demon. probably cheated on them.

soft… i don’t know if he’s soft towards anyone and/or is capable of it but we can try. we can try.

unrequited… either viktor just doesn’t like them or he’s holding back because he’s :/ got issues with relationships & is self-sabotaging as one does

enemies with Tension… of the … spicy kind if you know what i mean. wink.

friends… old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. i don’t know how many he had but if your muse likes to cause a ruckus and fuck shit up then viktor’s your man.

hook-ups… current or old. friends with benefits, one night stands, anything and everything because he fucks around a lot.

ride or die… friendship but make it extreme.

bad influence… he’s just toxic to be around and brings out the worst in people :/

bad egg… he’s gotten into a few fights :/ maybe you witnessed it. maybe you were in it.

literally anything i wld love all sorts of plots.

[asnakewithwingsisadragon]

Updated list of the bitches in this system because Gods know we needed it, go!

• Fae- Actual owner of the body. Has not been fully “themself” since they were like 6 (when Harl got here). Always co-cons with someone because they can’t stand being out alone.  Doesn’t know or care what we do with their life. Terrified of people. Has left us alone for extended periods of time. If you think you’ve talked to them, there’s a 99% chance it was actually Claire, Amanda, or Becky.  Actually a very sweet kid, but very hurt. Will go to the end of the world for their friends. Can hold a grudge like nobody’s business. Paints themself as a bitch but is a softie. Their mom cannot tell the difference between them and Becky. Diabetic, to Nidia’s displeasure. Closet Gryffindor turned Slytherin in order to survive.

• Amanda – Our system’s “guard dog”/Head Bitch in Charge. Much more complicated than that. The real author of Fae’s thigh scars (barely visible now), and maybe the only reason we made it through high school. The little voice that says “kill everyone and blame it on me”. Zero concern for consequences for herself. Impulse control consists of “Jail is awful and Fae doesn’t deserve it”.  She’s over 30.

• Lisbeth (Sally)- Just…Sally. The other voice that wants to kill everyone but doesn’t because she actually thinks about the consequences of her actions. Max is technically her partner, but we don’t talk about that (you can ask). I think she’s 30-something, but might as well be Fae’s age.

• Claire- Possibly Fae’s projection of herself into different universes. She can be 6, 17, 24 and 35. Last name Constantine. From Liverpool. Awful accent. Please don’t call her Australian. Another closet Gryffindor turned Slytherin.  Most of Fae’s friends are actually hers. Has been Fae for longer than Fae has been Fae. Likes soccer and we’re sorry. Punk. Hella Punk. Also hella broke.

• Mara- Claire’s sister (maybe twin). Approach with caution. (One of the several sexual alters, can be the same ages as Claire) Responsible for most of Fae’s awful dating decisions.

• Valentina- Rarely comes out, but she’s apparently God? We don’t know. Seems like she knows everyone, though. She always looks 20-something, but we know she’s older.

• Nidia- Claire’s daughter and the pure incarnation of Fae’s ADHD. A Jedi. Weirdest kid EVER. Super compassionate. Wears heart on her sleeve.  Can be 5, 9, 16 and 21. Impulse control is 100% artificial, but existent. Can, like Amanda, drink up to 3 cans of Monster Energy Drink in a row without batting a lash. Will eat ALL THE CANDY. The reason we need to carry an extra insulin syringe with us most of the time. Pours fun dip and sweetarts into her drinks. The kind of kid child leashes were invented for.

• Hellena- Mara’s daughter. STAY AWAY. Evil incarnate. Abusive A.F. Can and will destroy you. In her 20’s

• Christine- Hell’s identical twin. Remember that girl in Mean Girls who wants to bake a cake out of sunshine and rainbows and smiles? Christine is that cake. Rarely out. Same age as Hell.

• Evey- Hell and Chris’ big sister. That one kid with the pink hair and lots of tattoos. Zero impulse control.  Always looks like a teenager for some reason (not over 25)

• Vlad- Agender/Genderqueer mystical creature of the forest. Valentina’s child. Awesome person in general. Permanently 17.

• Harley- Yup. THAT Harley. You know the drill. She’s actually the one who makes all the fun plans because she’s the one who has the energy for it. Gets along with everyone until she doesn’t. Can drink us all under the table. Can drink you under the table. Has been Fae for longer than Claire has been Fae. Was the first one here, so she has tattoo privileges. And dating privileges. And everything privileges, basically. If I say how old she is, I may not live to see another day. Fae’s real mum. Will take you to Petco on exam week to pet puppies. Will yell “doge!” out loud.

Pets every dog. Will steal Teddy from Max.

• Edward- Mr. Nigma, sir. Somehow has better makeup skills than all the girls here combined.  If his attitude was as nice as his eyebrows, he’d rule the world by now. EVERYTHING HAS QUESTION MARKS. Knows more than anyone.  Is actually a genius. Wastes his time trying to school the little ones (and trying to get Naya to use proper words).  Smug bastard. Probs 40-something.

• Cass- Also from comics. EVERYTHING IS YELLOW (yiyo). Doesn’t talk much, but is always fun to have around. Will make you watch animated movies and take you to Starbucks. Will also make you work out. Can be 5, 9, 18 and 25. Smol Cass is a fan of pokemon. If it’s yellow, it belongs to her.

• Naya- Cass’ child. Has her own language, featuring words like “kaijukata”, “pakato”, and “omashii” (“Kaiju attack”, an insult of her own invention, and her word for “mother”.) There are no sidewalks, only pedestrian lanes. Biggest Kaiju Enthusiast. Wants to be Mako Mori.

• M.J.- Has been here for as long as Harley has. Isn’t around as much. The difference between her and Claire is that you can actually understand what MJ says when she gets mad. Probs 25 forever.

• Danni- Amanda’s daughter. Will also fuck you up. Has the weirdest kinks.  23

• Miranda- Danni’s daughter. Don’t ask. Also a sexual alter. 21

• Martha- Miranda’s sister. Level-headed.  A psychiatrist. 21. Actually the most mature person in this head, along with Tári.

• Alice- Nidia’s daughter. Also a psychiatrist. Likes psychoanalyzing people. Type 1 bipolar. Thinks all Arkham inmates are humans and wants to help. Will probably end up as an Arkham Inmate herself. Age slides. Toddler Alice is the devil. Can be 5, 9, and 21

• Alyssa- Mara’s best friend. Take Alice out of wonderland and teach her ballet, then add a sprinkle of Luna Lovegood. Permanently 17-ish.

• Robin- Alice’s little sister. Wants to be Carrie Kelly when she grows up. Terrified of squirrels. Can be 5 and 18. Lesbiab. Lesebeb. Girls. Yes.

• Tári- Alice and Robin’s eldest sister. Autistic. Genius extraordinaire. Loves to talk to Eddie. Often one of them leaves the conversation feeling stupid (it isn’t Tári). Loves Legos. REALLY LOVES LEGOS. Forensic Anthropologist/ wants to be Bones when she grows up. Vegetarian. Can be 12/17/21.

• Frances- Harley’s kid. Don’t ask, this was super weird. Frances herself is super weird. She hears voices. The voices tell her to do things. She rarely listens. Actually super polite. Has “opal” hair. 18-20. We don’t really know.  If we’re gonna have a sub-system, it will probably be because of Frankie.

• Shilo- Shilo Wallace. Infected by her genetics. Her nightmares are the worst. Once made Amanda and Sally fight over a pair of combat boots just so she could get to keep them. Probably Becky’s best friend in here.

• Bellatrix- That one got here on her own. Over 50. Still looks great.

• Azula- also got here on her own.

• Cassiopeia- Bella’s biggest mistake. Best teacher ever. Resident hipster chick. Is actually here to keep a little group of alters from causing too much mayhem.  28.

• Ascella- Lesbian extraordinaire. Sees dead people. I’m not even kidding. Permanently 23.

• Jamie Moriarty- Another one who got here on her own. Our self confidence boosts and power trips. Will maybe kill someone. Better than you and is not afraid to let you know.  Fae’s teachers were terrified of her.

Everyone’s terrified of her; I don’t know who we think we’re kidding. 32.

• Lestat- Fae’s gay vampire boyfriend. Is rarely around anymore. Probably for the best. 260-ish years old. Prick.

• Lindsay - THE definitive Sexual alter. From a comic book oneshot. Amanda on steroids, but if Amanda knew how to socialize. Loves horror, movies, photography and monsters. 26. 

• Becky - Called “morbid” for a reason. Disabled as all fuck. Autistic/ADHD, connective tissue disorder. A lawyer. Loves to argue. Jon Crane’s wife (at least here). 30ish. Always cold and always in pain. If we cancel plans, it’s most likely her fault and she’s sorry.

• Liliana - Necromancer. Big Titty Goth GF. We love and cherish her, alcoholism and all. Will never be over Jace and she knows it.

• Chandra - Pyromancer extraordinaire with severe ADHD. A lot like Fae in a lot of ways. Decidedly Pansexual, thank you very much. 25.

• Vraska - Ravnican to the core, but also a fantastic pirate. Great leader, good friend, fun to be around. Has the huskiest voice in the system. Has the worst flashbacks out of all of us. Can be 19 and 29. • Kari - Vraska and Jace’s kid. Hypermelanistic gorgon, telepath like her dad. Fun to be around. Can be 7, 12 and 25.

• Ral - Very very Izzet, and very very gay, and we love him for it. Very intelligent, good at fixing and making things with his hands. Confident, charismatic, and a workaholic. Tomik’s husband. Sometimes with Max. In his 40’s

• Tomik - Ral’s husband. Quiet, but very caring and polite.Also very smart and hard-working, always loves to learn new things and meet new people. 27-ish. Very gay, too. Makeup skills up there with Eddie’s.

• Teysa - Tomik’s boss. A Boss Ass Rich Bitch, and we love her lots for it. Very polite and interesting to be around. Could buy us all and our families ten times. Old, but looks to be in her early 30’s.

• Avacyn - An angel from Innistrad. Here to protect us. Really likes listening to old pop-punk and emo music with Max. Very sweet to be around, although she can be a little literal-minded.

• Olivia - A Vampire and a bitch. Liliana’s...ex? Something. A lot like Teysa, but much more fun-loving and impulsive.

• Nahiri - Doesn’t come out much. Stern but caring, very savvy, doesn’t take anyone’s crap. Can hold on to grudges like her life depends on it. 

[merinnan]

DMBJ Explore with the Note Ep 4

Explore with the Note Ep 4 watch thread! 

 Since Ep 3 had no updates to any of the counts, we start ep 4 off with the following:

Season 2 Xiaoge Rescue Count: 2 for Wu Xie, 2 for protagonists, 3 for everyone

Season 2 Wu Xie Swoon Count: 0 Season 2 Evil Hair Count: 2 

Cumulative Xiaoge Rescue Count: 12 for Wu Xie, 17 for protagonists, 18 for everyone 

Cumulative Wu Xie Swoon Count: 6 

- Now that I have some idea of the colour schemes, I can identify which opening credits shots are from flashback scenes and which are from Wu Xie era scenes 

- Ah yes, the snek fishies. A clue to consider, then forget about while we look at other things.

- Aww, he's so happy to see the baby corpse vase 

- And the paintings are far more interesting than whatever might be inside the vase. Although he's moving it around far too easily for the baby corpse to still be in there, I think

- Poor confused Wu Xie. I don't blame him. The stuff in this tomb and its design apparently places it in two different time periods which are like 1000 years apart 

- Oooh, bubbles 

- Good move on the jumping back, turning off your torch, and getting a knife ready

- Although there appears to now be light coming from the water itself 

- Hahah, it's Pangzi and Xiaoge 

- Oh, nice, this time they're not subbing Men Youping as Pokerface.

- And of course Xiaoge is the first one he asks if he's alright, and goes to help out of the water XD 

- lol, even Pangzi calling him out on that 

- Aww, he's so worried about the mark on Xiaoge's arm

- "What happened?!" 

"Oh nothing, just a demon" 

"..." 

- Ah, Pangzi knows what that is 

- ...and ofc Wu Xie only knows what it is from classic poetry texts 

 - *googles ptomaine gas* 

- Ugh, yeah, you don't want to be breathing that. Sounds unpleasant

- Wu Xie is so over everything rn 

- Except Xiaoge, anyway

- I really like S2 Pangzi. He's got the right blend of competence and humour. Comic relief without being just a caricature like S1 Pangzi 

- And Wu Xie showing off his smarts, which is cute. It's moments like these that reminds me he's got an architecture degree

- I think this is the first time we've heard Wang Zanghai's name in the dramas so far 

- And Xiaoge seems to certainly know the name and not be happy about it

- Oh, this looks like a Xiaoge flashback? 

- More fucking swimming, of course 

- But without a diving suit this time - And that's all it was. So interesting. So groundbreaking. I've never seen anyone swimming through dark murky water in this show before

- This Wu Xie is a much more expressive Wu Xie than S1. So many smiles! 

- And such a brilliant little shit 

- I'm really liking the Wu Xie/Pangzi interactions so far. Well, all of them, but these moments are so good. They're reminding me of the Chongqi interactions

- Oh, more bubbles, I'm sure this will be FINE 

- Oh, it's just the water draining out

- Pangzi complaining he can't see because of the fog, but really, I'd think the darkness would be the bigger problem. 

 - They've only got a couple of torches, and this is a large room and even larger pit that that staircase is going down into

- Wu Xie, what did you expect, asking if he can read something from such a distance? 

- And then looking at Xiaoge to see if it's going to be okay to do this 

- These steps & the twig-things on them are remarkably dry for having been submerged in water only a couple of minutes ago

- OK, now that I'm not distracted by speaking or, like, plot (or pingxie), the bgm is actually drawing my attention and dear god, yes, it really is awful and annoying 

- Hahah, dunking on both Sanshu's and Pangzi's English skills in one go

- This Wu Xie is a lovely chaos gremlin 

- Who hasn't completely lost all sense of caution yet, it seems 

- I mean, Pangzi, I'm not sure you'd be saying those things if you heard the kinds of stories Sanshu was telling bby!Wu Xie in those flashbacks 

- Then again, you probably would

- "Besides, I can't leave Xiaoge" ❤️

 - So Xiaoge probably left those marks 

- This look on Pangzi's face as Wu Xie just throws away all the caution he'd been arguing with Pangzi with to go chasing after Xiaoge XD

- I have to say, S1 was far superior in terms of set lighting. Most of the time it's so hard to make out anything. Like, I know they're meant to be in a tomb, but would it have killed them to add more set lighting so we could actually see what's going on more consistently?

- I do love this Xiaoge's unimpressed looks. 

- Oh, it's the mirror 

- Again, everything down here is so remarkably dry 

 - Dry enough to have got dusty in mere minutes!

- Intense Xiaoge Stares! All the stares, all the time, all at Wu Xie

- Ooh, old diving equipment. Well spotted. 

- That airtank being crushed like that does not seem to be a good sign 

- I'm with Pangzi. What sounds? The bgm was drowning out everything except speech

- Hahahah. Pangzi all like, no, we don't need to go up, it's not that dangerous, you're just scaring yourself. Then one mention of the Drought Demon and he's like y'know, on second thoughts.... 

- Xiaoge does like his disappearing tricks 

- And reappearing ones

- This is a good shot for a vague creepiness factor

- Baby is so worried

- Oooh, time for dramatic music while we look at dramatic skyscapes and seascapes 

- Wait, is all that water running backward? 

- I have no idea how that is meant to symbolise remembering things, but apparently it does 

- And now, a Xiaoge flashback

- The vases in the tomb 20 years ago were amazingly clean. Somehow they went somewhere between 500-1500 years staying as clean as if new, then in 20 years they got covered in waterscum.

- I am impressed at the seals on their equipment, if dude was able to bring a sketchpad along on a dive and have it be perfectly dry when he took it out to draw on. 

- And all those notebooks, too 

- The flashbacks get MUCH better set lighting

- Boys, boys, don't fight over the priceless antique porcelain like that. You're gonna drop it and break it. 

- Hahah, Xiaoge's trying so hard to ignore this girl 

- Even when she does give him something interesting to look at

- Well, that explains why all the vases were over there and in that order 20 years later for Wu Xie to find

- This kind of chatter is exactly the kind of chatter I'd expect on an excursion to look at things, or a group project. A little bit is relevant, most is just random chatter, and some might actually eventually mean something once they talk it out. It's great

- Oh, if only you knew, Wenjin. If only you knew 

- Hahah, Wenjin yelling at everyone and telling them to stay put, while Xiaoge just calmly ignores her while he puts his backpack on and walks off 

- lol, and then he just staaaaares at her until she lets him go

- Ah, she knows Sanshu so well 

- She's trying to be the grownup here 

- Poor Wenjin. She really can't win either was when she was stuck on an expedition with both Sanshu and Xiaoge

- Apparently these guys all managed to make it through the hallway without any of them triggering the traps 

- Well done, kiddos 

- Poor Wenjin playing babysitter to all these kids, though

- At least 20 years ago the stonework stayed wet after the water receding instead of mysteriously drying off 

- Well. Most of it, anyway 

- The floor, at least 

- I mean, like, kids. You didn't have to follow him. He didn't ask you to. 

- You just decided to

- Well, they were right, Sanshu was there 

- Just not the one they thought he was 

- Oh, that's a door there 

- I love the way Wu Xie and Pangzi in this tend to shine their flashlights in each other's faces to indicate "I think you're full of shit"

- Oh, clever Wenjin, the first one to figure it out 

- So much staring at each other

- Season 2 Evil Hair Count: 3 

- Though so far it's just sneaking down to tickle Wenjin's neck 

- And they go from perfectly dry corridor to wet-floored room 

- For no discernable reason

- And we end the episode mid-flashback, with them gushing over how pretty the Heavenly Palace is 

- And it really is quite pretty 

- No updates to either the Rescue Count or the Swoon Count, and only the single last-minute update to the Evil Hair Count

So, we end with:

Season 2 Xiaoge Rescue Count: 2 for Wu Xie, 2 for protagonists, 3 for everyone

Season 2 Wu Xie Swoon Count: 0

Season 2 Evil Hair Count: 3

Cumulative Xiaoge Rescue Count: 12 for Wu Xie, 17 for protagonists, 18 for everyone

Cumulative Wu Xie Swoon Count: 6

[jupitermelichios]

Smallville S2E23: Exodus

Nothing happens in this episode and then everything happens. Pacing!

Also Lex gets married off screen becuase the writers are wildly misled about which characters their audience is invested in.

Credit to Tom Welling, for 2002 that is some pretty decent screaming at nothing in the hope that it will make sense once the CGI is added in.

So we open with Jor-El speaking to Clark, giving the standard ‘reject the puny humans and join with me’ kryptonian bullshit, and as part of that he makes projections of Lana and the Kents, and a) he made the Lana projection significantly shorter than Kristen Kruek, and b) instead of just turning off the projection when he’s done with it he uses an effect I can only describe as ‘I don’t feel so good Mr El’

Okay on the one hand angry cupboard sex doctor is 100% justified in being angry at Lex admitting he broke into her office at the beginning of the season, but god damn it their relationship was one of the only compelling things in this fucking show!

Two horses. Lana has two horses again. Did she retrieve the one she left in the graveyard in the first episode?! Did she retrieve one of the many many others that fell into plot holes and disappeared between seasons? Although one of them is piebald, and I’m certain we’ve never seen a piebald horse before, so maybe she went and bought one to replace the last eight she abandoned

Oh god, they just made it really explicit the only person Lex has to take relationship advice from is professional sex pest Clark Kent, no wonder he fucked shit up with angry cupboard sex doctor.

Lionel and Clark are completely alone, in an underground cave, and Lionel still feels the need to whisper all his lines, just for the drama of it. God I love Lionel Luthor.

Oh wow, Chloe is wearing a pale pink Cheongsam over flared jeans, which is the single most 2000 thing I have even seen in my life.

So Jor-El is A Lot in this, and his idea of a compelling argument for why Clark should renounce his human family and take over the world is to levitate Clark and burn the superman logo into his chest with lazers, right across his nipples. Which is certainly an arguement.

Ugh I hate that I’m rooting for Lex and angry cupboard sex doctor even though I know Lex is going do a full villain heel-turn any time now, but I’m so fucking invested at this point and there is literally nothing else in this barren wasteland of a show for me to care about, so fuck it, I’m rooting for them anyway

In order to get both Clark’s shiny new superman scar and Pete’s face into shot at the same time, that shot was framed like Pete is thinking about licking Clark’s nipples, which was a Choice

Pete is 100% going to grow up to be the kind of asshole who writes op eds about how anyone can own property if they just try because he inherited a house at sixteen and got a 6 figure salary thanks to nepotism and if lazy poor people tried harder they could do the same

“There’s something I have to do, I can’t tell you what just know it’s for our future” then followed up a “I just want to remember this moment”. I’m assuming Lana now thinks Clark is going on a killing spree, because that’s the kind of thing people only say in movies before they go on killing sprees and/or hand themselves over to the bad guys to be murdered, and tragically Clark cannot be murdered yet because no one evil knows about the kryptonite thing

I hate Jonathan Kent so much but also I am so invested in Lex getting father figures so this whole Jonathan giving him a Kent family traditional wedding gift thing has me very torn

Jesus fuck I hate Chloe Sullivan. She’s apparently shocked and betrayed that Clark IS INTO LANA. We are two fucking seasons into this sickening bullshit and instead of just being sad that the dude she likes is dating someone else, she’s furious and screaming at him that he betrayed her trust. By fancying the person he’s been consistently into since he was like 3 years old

FFS Lex’s fucking wedding happens off screen so we can spend more time on Clark’s absolute fucking bullshit. Oh, and Clark missed his best friend’s wedding. The wedding at which he was supposed to be best man. Because he’s the absolute worst person in the world

So in literally less than 30 seconds with almost no build up, Clark blew up his entire house in an attempt to murder the tech-ghost of his dead bio-dad, nearly killed his parents in a car crash, and caused his mom to have a miscarriage. The rest of the episode is filler with a tiny bit of relationship drama. You know, like a well paced episode of TV!

On that theme, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THE POINT OF THE PREGNANCY SUBPLOT?!!!!!! It’s taken up so much fucking time in this season and the pay off was meaningless. Martha could have had a concussion and it would have achieved the exact same thing without the need for that complete culdesac of a subplot!

So after we skip the wedding entirely, because it’s not like we’ve had five or six episodes build up, we cut to Lex and angry cupboard sex doctor on their private jet drinking champagne on their way to the honey moon, and firstly the editing implies this is happening at the same time as the house blowing up and holy shit I think that might be a record for the quickest wedding ever (and apparently they didn’t bother with a reception), and secondly it’s framed like she’s poisoned Lex and I have absolutely no fucking idea why she would do that

Okay so after the weird “I’m going to do something terrible but it’s for us” dialogue Lana turns up to find Clark standing in the exploded ruins of his house. And then he tells her he did this. And at no point does it occur to her that Clark was clearly making explosives in the basement. I mean, he wasn’t doing that, but literally all evidence points to that. But she’s just like ‘no clark, how could you possibly have caused a massive explosion that’s not a thing humans can do’

So Chloe’s teamed up with Lionel because she’s sad about the shock reveal that when Clark said he fancied Lana he wasn’t lying, and just in case we didn’t realise this was a villain heel-turn, they’ve dressed her in all black, with twice as much make-up as normal, and also made her hair all spikey in a style we haven’t seen since the red kryptonite episode. Subtlety!

Holy shit we’re getting a drug addiction subplot. Why the fuck are we getting a drug addiction subplot?! Who on the writing staff thought they were competent enough to handle that, because whoever it was was so very very wrong

Okay time out, how the fuck tall is Kristen Kruek?! Because over the course of this episode she’s been the same height as Tom Welling, taller than him, barely come up his his nipples, and about a head shorter. I need answers, right the fuck now!

So Clark just dosed himself up on red kryptonite, stole a motobike, and noped the fuck out of the show. Is it too much to hope that he doesn’t come back and the show just continues on without him because I would honestly be so up for that. Chloe and Lana could go back to being cute sisters instead of fighting over a man barely worth spitting for never mind throwing hands with your best friend, the Kents could adopt Lex and then when he’s had some father-son bonding time Lex could then have Jonathan quietly murdered, Martha could marry Lionel… There’s literally no downsides to cutting Clark out of the show.

Okay so apparently angry cupboard sex doctor drugged Lex, waited until the plane was in the air and then she and the pilots fucking parachute jumped out the plane leaving Lex to crash into the ocean and die and like, him stealing medical files from her was fucked up, but I really don’t feel like it was fucked up enough to warrant going full Bane!

[phoebehalliwell]

Hi! I’ve recently fallen down the Charmed rabbit hole again and I fount your blog, which is amazing btw !! I LOVE YOUR CHARMED NEXT GEN FIC!!!! I also really enjoyed your thoughts about Phoebe's kid! I wish they would have lived in the actual show. How do you think Phoebe’s child living would have impacted her relationship with Coop? And the whole twice blessed prophecy?

!!!!!!!!!!! thank you!! and i’m so glad you like my fic (which i promise i am still working on)!!

as far as phoebe’s kid + the twice blessed prophecy, i have written on that au here, but i think if the baby really had been born it would not be the twice blessed but i do think they would still probably give that plotline to wyatt just bc. i also think that having a child and being a single mother would really further the need for coop bc dating as a single mom while still having a career is hard enough but dating while you’re a single mom with a full time job and a magical half demon baby who was lowkey the antichrist for the better part of the first trimester is a whole new can of worms. i think she still would have had a relationship with jason dean but i think it would be very short lived as i don’t think that he would be ready to commit to a family. and then by the time we hit season six and piper and leo have broken up and jason has left phoebe and yada yada yada phoebe would really be like huh. love isn’t real. we’re all gonna die alone.

and so she’s sitting at a cafe with paige at the end of love’s a witch and is completely ranting about how love is dead or whatever and paige is just like yeah. uh huh. yep. totally. yeah. yeah. i know what you mean. yeah. uh huh. bc it’s totally Not the time to bring up the fact that she has a date with richard on friday and phoebe’s just going on and on like “okay bc look at olivia! she was doing what she was doing out of love!! and she was killing people!!! just an evil, sad, lovesick, ghost. like me. you know cole was my longest relationship? that was like,,, the most successful relationship i had, and it wasn’t even remotely a success!! he turned me evil, paige. i became evil. because that’s what love does. it bring out the worst in people.” and paige is sitting there like jfc i think i need to bring in a shrink or something when all of a sudden the dude pulls up a chair at their table and is like “hi hate to interrupt but i couldn’t help but overhear and you’re wrong” and phoebe’s like who the hell are you and paige is like yeah fuck off buddy private conversation here and this guy’s like “look. love is the strongest magic we have” and paige is like “ehh i think other, stronger magic” and phoebe’s all like “okay, i don’t know who you are, but you don’t know me and you don’t know what i’ve been through okay so you don’t get to sit down here and try to talk to me about love. bitch.” and this guys just like “actually, i do. my name’s coop. it’s nice to meet you, officially.” and he holds out his hand for a handshake and phoebe’s looking at him like imma judo flip u motherfucker but then something catches her eye and she snatches his hand and flips it over, staring at his cupid ring and she’s like no. she grabs her coffee and storms out leaving coop and a Very Confused paige sitting at the cafe table. she turns around at the exit and gestures to paige like come on let’s go get out of here so paige grabs her croissant and purse awkwardly and leaves and coop’s like “i hope everything goes well with richard!” and paige is like????? so she pulls phoebe aside like Who Was That and phoebe’s like “that was the most annoying, pesky, interfering magical creature there is out there. that was a cupid.”

and later that night phoebe would be tucking her child asleep (who in this story is a little girl named prudence) when she hears “you love her, and it doesn’t seem to bring out the worst in you.” and she whips around to find coop leaning in the doorframe and she’s like “you better leave before i vanquish you” and coop sorta just laughs softly and he’s like “i get it. you’ve been burned before. but actively fighting love? it’s not you, phoebe.” and she’s like “tf do you think you know about me” and coop’s like “i know you believe in love. true love. the kind that takes your breath away, where it's the first thing that you think about when you wake up in the morning. you wanna know how i know that?” and phoebe just glares at him in a very defensive stance like yes i want to know but no i will not play into your stupid little monologue and coop’s like “i read your column. not many people could write like that. you help people find love every day, you help them reach out, take risks, open up their hearts-” “okay you know what i’ve had enough of your little sugar coated soap opera speech. go bug someone else.” and phoebe pushes her way past him and beelines for her bedroom, slamming the door and coop’s like :|

and the next morning phoebe’s eating cereal and by eating a i do mean just pushing wheaties around in a pool of milk while dency and wyatt play in the playpen and piper comes in with a mug of coffee like “good morning how are-” “am i a cold hearted cynic?” “...you doing this fine friday morning??” “i’ve got a cupid on my ass” “i’m going to hope you mean the magical kind and not some bad tattoo situation” “i mean, yesterday i was saying that love brings out the worst in people and now i’ve got this 6′2″ cupid with a square jawline following me around. but like,,, don’t i have the right to say that??? all love has done is hurt me. i’m allowed to bitch a little about it!! like! mind your own business??? goddamn! and you know-” “phoebe i just woke up save the onslaught until after 10am please” and phoebe just sorta pauses and goes back to pushing her cereal around and piper says “and i’m not calling you a cold hearted cynic but... you have changed” and phoebe’s completely ready to rant again like “pfft of course i’ve changed you think you can be married to the source of all-” “zp! not til after 10!” and phoebe slumps back and watches as dency draws a small pattern in frost on the tile floor and you can tell she’s sorta mulling over what coop said blah blah blah this episode is the vortex demon she gets knocked into a world based on her innermost desires and in it she’s happily married and in love in an apartment of her own raising her daughter and writing her column blah blah blah she takes one look at her finger that very much has a wedding band on it and is like “cupid!!!! cupid u fuckin bastard get down here!!! cupid!!!” and no response and she’s scowling like “coop??? coop!!!!!!!!” and he’s no where to be seen and she’s like wait shit i think this is the alternate whirlpool vortex things i gotta find my sister blah blah blah chris knocks paige into phoebe’s world and paige is like “okay what’s the catch” and phoebe’s like “what catch” and paige is like “you know, the catch! what makes this not reality. like in my world, magic was practiced openly, and everyone knew about it. come on, chris said the realities were shaped my like our fantasies or wants... is anything different here??” and phoebe’s like “oh you know uhh not really everything basically the same um but you know i have my own apartment here where i live with dency...” “oh my god wait where is she now who’s taking care of her?” “oh uh well that would be my husband.” “cole’s alive????” “no! not cole! i don’t know who he is actually but he seems nice :)” and there’s a beat where you can tell paige really wants to Get Into What This Means and phoebe really Doesn’t Want To Talk About It but then they both seem to agree that they’re being hunted by a demon so maybe this can take a back seat rn blah blah blah they kill the demon and the end of the episode paige is about to go on her date w richard and her and phoebe have a little heart to heart and paige is like i think you should talk to the cupid bc i think maybe your whole hating love thing might just be a front like i think you’re trying to convince urself of something blah blah blah and phoebe’s just like :/ maybe so.

alright blah blah blah next episode phoebe’s like “coop?” and coop, suddenly appearing behind her is like “yeah?” and phoebe’s like “i give up. so uh work your little cupid magic or whatever and i guess let’s do this thing.” and coop like lights up he’s like so happy and he’s all like “great! let’s get started!” and phoebe’s mentally preparing for a series of really boring dates but then coop surprises her by not doing that??? like he doesn’t set her up with anyone at all bc he’s all like you need time to heal and find urself again???? which honestly phoebe isn’t complaining about and like phoebe will be feeding baby dency in the kitchen and coop will pop in like “what are your thought on taking a pottery class?” and it’s happened before where she’s been so swamped with work that she doesn’t have time to pick up supplies for dency so coop will just go out and like buy diapers?? and gradually phoebe feels herself opening up more and more and one night she’s at p3 and this guy come up to talk to her and she doesn’t just scowl him away and she finds herself having a great conversation and she see coop wink at her from across the bar.

and you know things go well with this guy yada yada yada but one night she goes out on a date and her sisters weren’t able to watch lil dency for her so coop was babysitting and she comes back home to see coop sending out small pink glowing projections from his ring and her baby just laughing uncontrollably trying to catch them and phoebe gets why she has been ready to dive fully in to the guy she’s been going out with. coop says it’s just nerves bc of her past relationships and that it’s completely fine and understandable but phoebe knows better. or at least now she does. she’s in love with coop.

[baepsaetan]

Inkarnate

Summary: Hoseok is a film student looking for muse, and Yoongi is a tattoo artist looking for money. When they meet, the two find that they could give each other far more than creativity and cash, but soulmate isn’t spelled p.e.r.f.e.c.t, and Yoongi’s tattoos cover up more than just his skin.

Chapters:  pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.9, pt.10, pt.11 -> read on Ao3

Genre: Soulmate! AU, Angst

Warnings: Smut, main character death, swearing, implied alcoholism, implied past abuse, seriously a lot of angst, cancer.

Length: 4.7k

A/N: After a very long hiatus, here’s another chapter. I dunno if anyone is reading this at this point, but if you’re keeping up with it, thank you very much! I hope you enjoy, and as ever likes and reblogs are appreciated!

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Meet me at the corner of Skymont and Anpan @ 11. He reads the text one more time, just to be sure he got it right, reassuring himself that there’s no way Yoongi could have meant eleven at night, and that he is, in fact, on the corner of Skymont and Anpan. The little 11:21 on his phone sits with depressing certainty on the top right of his screen, and Hoseok shakes his head, short and anxious. This late and Yoongi still hasn’t sent him a message or anything? What the hell is wrong?

The evils of seeming needy and childish are small compared to his concern, so a minute or two later Hoseok sends, Hey are you good? When he’d arrived, all he’d been thinking about was the upcoming exams and project deadlines, half-chiding himself for agreeing to meet with his boyfriend for something that might take hours (but also not earnestly regretting it, either). Now he shifts in worry, fingers drumming on his thighs. When there’s no reply, immediate or otherwise, he calls Yoongi’s phone; it doesn’t ring before going to voicemail.

Struggling with something close to panic, he continues his somewhat awkward loitering, trying to convince himself that the guy behind the counter in the shop behind him isn’t giving him the evil eye through the display window. It’s uncomfortable just standing there, sometimes having to dance around large groups of people moving down the sidewalk – sunny Saturdays on Skymont are always packed – and as even more time passes, his anxiety only increases. Another phone call yields no more answer than the text had. Had he been the one to mess up the time? Was Yoongi okay? Should he go to Born Tiger? But what if they managed to miss each other? Would Yoongi be pissed? Why were they going to meet, anyways? Yoongi had said it was a surprise, but what if… what if it was some stupid prank? What if –

He puts a pretty hard stop to that train of thought. There’s no way Yoongi would do that to him, and it’s dumb to worry about it. Although that doesn’t explain where his boyfriend is. Or if he’s okay.

That’s a good question, isn’t it? If Yoongi is okay? It’s a question he’s been asking himself – unwilling, shrinking – for – well, hasn’t it been for forever? For as long as he’s known Yoongi? Only it used to be a small voice, a whisper in the back of his mind easily brushed away because it was too hard to consider. Now it’s – well, it’s almost screaming. Sometimes, if he thinks about it too closely, if he really lets himself feel the mounting panic and pain that’s growing like cancer in his chest, he feels like screaming. Because it doesn’t make sense. Because it can’t make sense. Because Yoongi is okay, isn’t he?  

11:38 rolls around with no sign of the other guy and with two more unanswered calls, Hoseok’s just deciding he needs to head to the tattoo shop when a small shape suddenly comes into view down the street, hands shoved into pockets and head down. Yoongi’s walking so fast he almost takes out an equally small old lady, avoiding her only at the last second and ignoring her startled exclamation. For a half second Hoseok thinks he’s going to walk by, but the artist halts in front of Hoseok, yanking his hand out of his pocket and rubbing at his neck.

“Sorry,” Yoongi mutters, not looking up. “Some asshole was a fucking pansy and it took forever to finish his stupid tattoo. You ready?”  

The abrupt apology and question make Hoseok’s brow furrow, but though he’s annoyed, there’s something too wrong with Yoongi’s voice – it’s choked, way hoarser than usual – for him to be properly offended. He ignores the question and asks one of his own. “Are you okay? I called you a few times…”

“I know I’m late,” Yoongi snaps. “Like I said, I was doing someone’s tattoo. Come on, we need to hurry.” And without waiting for a reply he starts walking, his shoulders hunched, black beanie pulled so low it’s almost over his eyes. Hoseok hurries to keep up with his slouching but still rapid stride, struggling with his irritation and concern both. What the hell, Yoongi?

“Where’re we going?” he asks, and if the question is closer to a demand than a light inquiry, the student can’t help himself. And he’s not even that ashamed of it.

Like a halter over his hurry, the question jerks Yoongi to a dead stop, and when he looks back, there’s something a little pitiful about the struggle apparent across his face. Some negative emotion tightens his jawline even as his lips press together, and he shakes his head in jerky, infinitesimal denials of a truth he hasn’t disclosed to Hoseok. After a moment, and with a breath so deep it could have reached into hell, the harsh lines ease, his lips soften, and his body ceases shaking. His smile misses the latch as he tries to hook it on, though, falters and fades away altogether as he pushes himself into motion again.

“Sorry, Hobi,” is his quiet repentance. “Sorry for –” A pause. Another, shorter struggle, during which Hoseok hopes with a desperation that appals him that Yoongi will tell him the truth he can feel looming at their backs, blocking the sun in shades of trepidation. He’s disappointed. “Sorry for being late. I know you’re really busy right now with all your school shit, but…” The small man snorts, abruptly impatient with himself. “Look, I, uh, know I missed your birthday, okay? And I wanted to make it up to you and I hope this will, but then I got a call and had to go to – I mean, someone made an appointment and then took way longer than they should have. It pissed me off so bad I forgot to text you after it was done, just left straight away and we’re gonna be fucking late which is just great and – sorry, I’m still pretty fucking pissed.”

Having this sprung on him isn’t even remotely what he’d expected, not with the wave of emotions pouring off his boyfriend. “How’d you know about my birthday?” is the first thing he can think to blurt out, although words along the lines of why the hell are you lying and what are you lying about hover dangerously close to the fore. Because Yoongi – for all his swearing and scowling – isn’t angry. Hoseok doesn’t know how he knows it, except that he knows, and it’s a wretched twist in his gut, like missing a step on the way down the stairs. Yoongi isn’t angry, but he’s – he’s drowning, or suffocating, and how do you ask someone about that?

The other man’s face smooths even further. “I figured it out,” he replies, another lie, though this one Hoseok grasps with something other than intuition.

“Jimin told you.” Who else would have mentioned it? How else could Yoongi have ‘figured it out?’

Yoongi’s shrug is noncommittal. Hoseok is annoyed, a little, because he doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday, but that’s nothing in the face of his sudden conviction that his boyfriend is hiding something. Something a lot worse than a birthday surprise. It’s such a powerful certainty that he can’t even summon any curiosity about where they’re going, and there’s a rapidly growing, sinking sensation in his stomach. Because this isn’t a shock. Because this isn’t actually sudden at all, is it? It’s just that suddenly, Hoseok is having a very hard time ignoring it, pushing it to the back of his mind and hoping it goes away. There’s something too immediate about Yoongi’s expression – about the raw tension it’s settling across his nerves.

But what to say? What to do? Should he ruin whatever Yoongi has planned just for the sake of figuring this out? Should he make an accusation he doesn’t even have evidence to support? And what even is that accusation? And what if he’s wrong and he’s just being paranoid and it starts a major fight, like the one at the bar? Wouldn’t that be even worse than whatever they’re feeling now?

Slowly Hoseok talks himself out of his distress, out of the sensation of standing on the edge of a cliff and preparing to jump. The cool logic is accompanied by the nagging conviction that he’s circled the wrong answer on a multiple choice exam – but you’re not supposed to change your mind, right? You’re not supposed to second guess yourself? The questions die a whimpering death in his head, euthanized by his fear of something being wrong, and when eventually Yoongi glances back at him, one eyebrow raised, he manages to organize a grin.

It doesn’t stop his boyfriend from asking, “Are you okay?”

His reply of, “Oh, yeah,” isn’t bought, and Yoongi’s searching expression doesn’t ease.

The small man reaches out his hand, and gratefully Hoseok takes it, glad for the tactile grounding. Whatever their issues, ever since they had first slept together, any kind of physical contact with Yoongi feels like finding something to grab just as you lose your balance. A rock solid support. And Yoongi’s voice, gravelly and a little anxious, just reinforces the feeling flooding his gut.  “Seriously, you’re not pissed? At like – whatever? Jimin said you don’t like celebrating your birthday, which I guess is why you didn’t tell me about it, but this isn’t a big deal or anything, so…”

They’re walking quickly now, Yoongi pulling him along, but not so quickly that Hoseok can’t feel a flush of embarrassment at his companion’s words. He hadn’t told his boyfriend about it – hadn’t planned to, ever, really, which was maybe just a little nearsighted – and the discomfort of having people spend time and effort on him is a comfortably familiar terrain. It’s easier to focus on his faults than on the near-crippling concern for Yoongi, so the student – almost relieved – quickly insists, “No, no, I’m not pissed off at all. I should have told you about it, but I didn’t want – I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry I didn’t, but honestly, you didn’t – you don’t have to do anything for me.”

“Bullshit,” Yoongi replies, a bit of bite in the word. “I want to do this. Just wish I hadn’t fucking forgotten to ask about your birthday in the first place.” As Hoseok tries to protest, abruptly feeling something worse than mere discomfort at the thought of Yoongi beating himself up about it, the other man talks over him. “Whatever, Hobi, you don’t even know what we’re doing. Maybe you’ll hate it.”

“Yeah right. But what…” They turn the corner, evading a large group clustered around someone watching a video on their phone, and Hoseok lets his question fade. He’s familiar with this street, and even more familiar with the building they’re shortly standing in front of. He’s been here at least ten or fifteen times in the last year.

It’s not exactly hard to figure out why they’re there.

For the first time in the last hour, he forgets his concern for Yoongi. The smile that breaks across his lips is so large it feels too heavy for his face. One glance at Yoongi – who stares at him like his joy is an antidote to everything wrong in the world – confirms that this is exactly what he thinks it is. Suddenly his breath is a little hard to catch, and he’s swinging the hand that’s clutching his boyfriend a little too wildly, and each step is more a skip than anything. They were actually – they were – it was the Spring Day music festival!

In about thirty-seven seconds, his fears and objections would reanimate – Yoongi shouldn’t have bought the tickets, how much did they cost, Hoseok would pay him back, could he afford to spend time here during crunch season, was he wasting Yoongi’s time. But for those few seconds, Hoseok feels something so delighted it stabs and twists inside his chest, alive with an electric current that sends little pinpricks skittering across his skin. It isn’t a wave or a weight, drowning out his worries; it’s an absence of those fears altogether, a lightness, like any second he could take off soaring.

And of course he would take Yoongi with him. Hell, to judge by that gummy grin, by the almost-skip that’s a match for Hoseok’s suddenly bouncing pace, it might just be Yoongi himself who’d be doing the flying.

Flying, that is, until thirty-seven seconds have gone by and Hoseok, glancing once again at his boyfriend’s face, notices what Yoongi hasn’t yet. The clot of red just barely seeps from the artist’s nose, a liquid warning flag, and for once – finally – Hoseok heeds the warning. He plummets out of the sky, lands bruised and shaken on the pavement, and slams to a halt.

“Yoongs,” he chokes out, just as the first droplet of blood loses its fight with gravity and falls. It’s quickly followed by another – another – until the drops have turned into a trickle, and now Yoongi lifts up a hand and swipes at his nose with the heel of his palm. It comes away smeared with red, and the tattooist stares at it for a long moment, a little knot of frustration resting between his brows. More blood drips down, and he does nothing to halt it, still inspecting the sample on his hand as though it belongs to someone else.

It’s Hoseok that ends up being the first to try to stop it. He fumbles in his coat pocket, pulls out some crumpled Kleenex that have seen better days. Yoongi doesn’t take them when he offers, and he has to physically force them into the artist’s hands, to start to help him clean his palm, before the other man responds. Inhaling sharply between his teeth, Yoongi abruptly seems to wake up, and instead of shoving Hoseok away – as he’d dreaded – the fingers on one hand curl around Hoseok’s, helping him clean away the blotch of red on his skin. With his other hand he gathers the majority of the Kleenex, shoves it against his nose.

Yoongi isn’t swearing, angrily or otherwise. That’s – there’s something wrong about that, about the stony silence. Gut wrenchingly wrong. For some reason Hoseok can hardly look at his boyfriend, but when he manages it – in twitching glances that hurt like pins and needles – Yoongi is devoid of colour. His face isn’t devoid of emotion, but the irritation is a cover-up, as ill fitting as a shirt two sizes too small. It’s such a tight expression it feels like they’re both just waiting for it to rip. And what’s underneath? Fear? Rage? Horror?

Once he’s managed to wipe the blood from his boyfriend’s hand, Hoseok waits a few more seconds, pressure filling up his lungs; a balloon threatening to pop his ribs off their hinges with the force of its expansion. Yoongi doesn’t break the silence – because of course he doesn’t – and eventually Hobi exhales, hard enough to hurt.

“You need to go to the doctor.” Even behind the wad of Kleenex, Hoseok can see the scowl that crosses the other man’s face, and he feels his fingers tightening around the bloody tissue he’s still holding. “This is, what? The fourth nosebleed this week? That I’ve seen? And who knows how many you haven’t told me about.”

“Hobi, come on, just…”

“Just ignore it, right?” Yoongi’s mouth snaps shut, his eyes falling down, and Hoseok feels a throb across his collarbone, at the base of his throat, like something alive and scorching is curled up there. “Screw ignoring it. You have to go see someone. Whatever’s got you – like you are, it’s better to get checked out.”

“It’s nothing. Some shitty little flu or something.” Even his voice is pale, washed out and muffled through the tissue, and whatever Yoongi is trying to sell, it’s obvious even he’s not buying it at this point.

“That’s lasted a month?” Or more, Hoseok thinks but doesn’t say, because he should have said something a month – or more – ago. When the artist’s thin lips tighten, Hoseok knows that they’re headed for an argument, an argument that’s going to go exactly nowhere if he doesn’t change where they’re moving. This has happened time and time again. Hoseok pushes – Yoongi shoves back. They get nowhere. Once again, Yoongi is putting him off, and once again Hoseok can feel that automatic temptation to let it happen, to – just ignore it.

How long can you ignore thunder before you get hit by lightning? How long can you ignore a growl before you get bit?  

“I’ll get over it.” There it is, that digging in, a familiar stubbornness that brings exasperation to a low simmer in Hoseok’s stomach. What is it with Yoongi and doctors? Hoseok hasn’t ever known anyone who gets so violently ill, so often, and yet refuses to see anyone about it. He knows why, at least to some extent – it’s not like Yoongi never makes sarcastic reference to what his dad called him whenever he got sick – but this seems excessive. Childish, even. And it’s also a lie, written in the blood that had dripped down to the pavement at their feet before Yoongi had managed to stem the tide.

It’s hard to smile, and Hoseok’s uncomfortably aware of how much he’s aiming to soothe his boyfriend, to back him off the instinctive obstinacy. He’s even more uncomfortable with the idea that’s stirring to sluggish life at the back of his mind. But it’s not manipulation when it’s for someone else’s own good, right?

“Get over it? Yeah, you will,” he says with a laugh that’s only a little too brittle. “Because you’re gonna go to the doctor and get some drugs or whatever. We’ll go together. I’ll even hold your hand if you’re scared.” The teasing isn’t natural – not with the fear still thick and suffocating at the back of his throat – but he can’t get as angry as his worry is urging him to be. If he does, Yoongi’s going to shut down, close off. Just another hurtle they haven’t quite managed to get over together.

Responding to the light tone as Hoseok hoped, Yoongi shakes his head without much conviction, fingers still pinching the bridge of his nose. “For a bloody nose? I mean…”

“Not for a bloody nose – for me. If you want to think about it that way.” Yoongi’s dark gaze cuts to him, and Hoseok’s grin softens into something pleading, almost apologetic. “I’m… worried about you, Yoongs. I know you don’t think it’s a big deal, but if you went, I’d – I know I’d feel a lot better.” The words are sincere, but how honest can he afford to be when he’s struggling to keep his balance atop Yoongi’s evasions? The answer: not as honest as he wants to be.  

It almost makes him sick, the tremulous smile Yoongi hauls onto his lips in response. “Y’know, if I go, you won’t have any excuse for failing any exams. No sleepless nights worrying about your worthless boyfriend to blame for not studying. You really ready for that?”

His jaw tightens before he forces it to relax, and Hoseok nods with mock seriousness. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Fine.” Yoongi heaves in a breath, pinching his nose harder. “I’ll go sometime this week.”

“Or… you could go today. Right now.” He’s not entirely kidding, the joy of the music festival fled so quickly the after-image of it is drifting like smoke across his mind.

With an ill-advised snort, Yoongi replies, “Fuck that. We still got some films to sit through, remember? We’re late as is.” Although somehow the urgency has totally left both of them by this point, and they make no move to enter the theater, ignoring the weird looks they’re getting from passersby.

“Then afterwards. At least make an appointment afterwards.” Unconsciously Hoseok’s hand rises, pressing through his shirt against the tattoo that’s coloured such an ashy shade that the original blue tinting of the flowers is all but gone, and the white may as well be called grey. The petals are so wilted and sparse he’s taken to wearing clothes that cover them up, ashamed of and sickened by the failure printed across his collarbone and neck. Afterwards. What’s he going to do after the flower dies completely?

He’s trying to face things more head on, but it’s a question filled with too many tears and Hoseok blinks them away, the pressure suddenly heavier than he can handle.

Yoongi is watching him, little creases at the corners of his eyes. For a moment Hoseok thinks those same dark eyes are wet, and an answering pain lurches in his chest, his throat, almost like his tattoo is trying to rip away from his skin. Except then his boyfriend tosses his head, shoulder jerking. “I’ll call, yeah. Right after.”

On impulse, Hoseok stretches out his hand. “You promise?” he asks.

The other man hesitates, his free hand rising to rub at the skin behind his ear. Which just means there’s yet another evasion, another not-quite-truth, stirring in the breathless air between them. For the first time today Hoseok feels something far less convoluted than panicked concern and a grief for things he doesn’t understand, for things that haven’t come to pass. He feels… he wants to call it impatience, or annoyance. Something shallow and easily brushed away. Except it’s not either of those things. Honesty – sick and compelled and unhappy – forces him to acknowledge what it is. It’s anger. Betrayal, even. Why – why won’t Yoongi tell him the truth?

He still can’t confront his boyfriend, though. Still can’t bear the thought of bringing this – whatever this is – out into the open. Better by far to swallow the anger, the fear, the nausea. At least until he’s sure of what’s happening.

After a moment, Yoongi accepts his hand, holds it tightly, as though that alone can make up for what’s wrong. “Promise,” he says, and smiles. But for all that a familiar feeling of warmth surges in Hoseok’s stomach in response to the contact and tone and smile – for all of that, his responding grin is hollow. And he hates that it is.

It’s only the plan, taking uncertain shape while his thoughts and emotions churn, that lets Hoseok keep it together as Yoongi leads him into the theater. It’s only his conviction about how much he loves the other man that stops him from breaking their clasped hands apart and demanding more than Yoongi is willing to give. Neither of those are enough to ease the sick anxiety, and even the prospect of going to see the art he loves isn’t enough to remove from Hoseok the certainty that in the near future – be that days or weeks or even months – something between he and Yoongi is going to change.

And given how happy he is with his boyfriend, how can that change be for the better?    

---

On the towering screen in front of them, some dude is monologuing to his dog, and though Yoongi supposes that there’s a time and place for talking to a pet, he kinda wishes the guy would get on with it. That’s maybe a bit harsh – there are tears and snot and everything, the guy is grieving so hard, and the dog even looks like it’s sympathizing – but to be honest, Yoongi’s not really in the mood. They’re only on the second film, and a cramp is slowly swelling to fill the space on his left side. It feels like the pain is making out with his ribcage. That’s not unusual anymore, but normally moving around eases it, and he can’t right now.

Gnawing on his cheek – at least Hobi probably can’t see in the darkened theatre – Yoongi shifts, just a little. Even that tiny change catches his boyfriend’s attention, and though Hoseok doesn’t look away from the screen, his hand slides over, palm up, an offering no trashy modern god could resist – and Yoongi ain’t as strong as any god.

The second their skin makes contact, a slushy wave of contentment sloshes through his body, not quelling the pain but distracting him from it. Entwining their fingers is a thrill all its own, and though they aren’t speaking to each other, in a way they are. It’s one of Yoongi’s favourite parts of the bond. He doesn’t know how to describe this silence that isn’t quiet at all, but it’s like they’re communicating at a level totally beyond anything as physical as sound waves. Higher than Hoseok’s stress, clearer than Yoongi’s cancer, it’s above anything as basic as bodies. Hoseok can’t feel it in the same way, because he obviously doesn’t know about the bond and thus can’t embrace it, and that’s a shame, but it’s there, and it’s wraps around him in the same way Hobi wraps around him when they lie in bed.

It comforts Yoongi, and he needs that diversion. This morning had been absolute shit, and the trickledown effect has hardly paused as he passed into the afternoon. The thoughts are there – his doctor’s strained face as she’d told him the new results, the way she’d all but begged him to bring someone with him to the next appointment, the nosebleed that had continued the ruining everything trend – but for now, Yoongi ignores it. Hoseok had been upset outside the theatre, and Yoongi suspects he’s still upset, even now, but the films will smooth things over. He hopes. At any rate, wallowing in any of this, particularly in Hobi’s company, isn’t going to do anything for either of them. He just wants Hoseok to have a good birthday gift.

Clinging to his boyfriend’s hand, it really feels as though that shouldn’t be too much to ask.

Things are coming to a head. The appointment this morning confirmed that. Yoongi feels like he’s teetering on the edge of a precipice, and every direction is down. What way can he go, now? Backed into a corner, sitting in the frying pan, there’s nothing left but concrete walls and a fire. Nothing he can do. It’s not about money anymore; he’d made enough and started taking the drugs, just in time to be told it was probably too late for them to help. The ratio of diseased cells to normal ones suggested he was well into the accelerated stage. Maybe even blast. More tests needed. Why was it called the blast stage, anyways? He sure as fuck wasn’t having one.

He might need something besides drugs. A bone marrow transplant. The waiting list is very long, Yoongi. What right did his doctor have to look so stressed and sympathetic as she told him that? Who gave her permission to have a heart for his sake? Can you think of anyone who might be willing to donate, and might also match? Your father, a brother... maybe a friend?

Five friends, and a lover who almost definitely matches, given the literature he’s read on soulmates. He can’t ask any of them, though, because that means telling them the truth. Yoongi can’t do that. He’s too far gone down this path. And anyways, if Hoseok volunteered for the transplant and it failed – which was entirely possible, soulmate or no – it would kill him. Knock him right off the self-worth spire that Yoongi’s been helping him build, a sweaty brick at a time.

So, no. Yoongi settles more deeply into the theatre seat, even as he settles into his deceptions. When he squeezes Hoseok’s hand, the other man mutters under his breath, fusses with the armrest between them until he figures out how to haul it up and out of their way. From there, it’s easy for Yoongi to slump into his boyfriend’s side, breath relentlessly even and peaceful.    

He wishes he had told Hoseok when they first met. He wishes he’d told him at the bar. He wishes he’d told him during any of the million of moments they’ve shared.

He wishes.