#I still might try to grab a physical copy if I can

[siriuslylantsov]

idrk how you feel about dad spencer and maybe i am just ovulating BUT for some reason i can't stop thinking about him letting his daughter do his makeup... maybe a toddler stealing her mom's bag and it turns out all fucked up or maybe a teenager using her own stuff like a dare idk it doesn't matter i can just perfectly picture him sitting still and trying not to laugh when he feels the lip gloss ... and then he'd let you both take a hundred pictures and he totally wouldn't be as mad as he pretends to be when he sees the photos you printed out to put on the fridge . .. . #needpsychologicalhelp

sighhhh yes, i've only recently started thinking about dad!spence and it was also when i was ovulating so hashtag twins

thinking about coming home to find spencer and your daughter sitting on the carpet, her little body planted idly on his lap, a mess of your makeup products scattered all over the floor. he looks up at you and you see it. a light blue shade of eyeshadow–matching what you currently have on–pressed onto his eyelids, a bright pink blush over his cheekbones and red lipstick smeared messily over his lips. 

you quickly slap your hand over your mouth to stifle the laugh that threatens to come out, putting your things aside so you can join them on the floor. she turns to you with wide eyes.

“daddy let me do his makeup, mommy. like you!”

“i see that, honey. you made him look very beautiful,” you assure her proudly before turning to spencer's dolled-up face with a giggle. it's even funnier up close.

“yeah, yeah. laugh it up,” he grumbles with an overdramatic eye roll. 

“did you lose a bet or something?” you tease, reaching into your pocket for your phone.

he sighs, helpless, “you know i can’t say no to her.”

“well, you're gonna have to, or i see a lot of this in your future,” you say, waving a hand over his face. 

“i think i could get used to it,” he nods, thoughtful, hands squeezing your daughter's stomach. “think you could do this for me every morning, angel?”

she squirms before agreeing with a firm nod, stretching to grab the red lipstick again. she seems to deem her work unsatisfactory, coating his lips with another layer of lipstick and going past the area she’d already covered, she might cover half his face at this rate.

you quickly raise your phone with the camera app open and take a picture of the scene. it's sickeningly cute. 

“i'll replace your lipstick,” he mutters through the pout on his lips, posing for her lipstick assault.

“don't bother, i don't use that one. it's like 5 years old.”

he groans before carefully peeling the tube from your daughter's little fingers. you reach over and smooth her unruly hair down. you grab the lipstick from spencer's hand and dab a little colour over her lips with a gentle finger under her chin. you hold your phone out again, framing their faces on the screen.

“smile for me, please.”

she grins, full-bodied and eyes crinkling at the corners. she looks just like him. spencer, on the other hand, sticks his tongue out in an act of childish defiance, but it eventually morphs into a smile–identical expressions plastered on the two faces you love the most.

god, you think you might die.

you scoot closer to them, leaning on spencer's body.

“i think this might be one for the ages,” you murmur, turning the phone so they can see. 

“oh god. please don't send that to penelope.”

“i would never,” you gasp, affronted, save for the mischievous glint in your eyes. “she's getting a physical copy.”

[jjkamochoso]

Rotten Right to the Core

Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Sanemi Shinazugawa x f!reader

Inspired by Charlie XCX’s song “Apple”; Sanemi worries about the traits he’s inherited from his parents…

Warnings: cussing, yelling, mentions of abuse, mentions of blood

[I guess the apple don't fall far from the tree/'Cause I've been looking at you so long/Now I only see me/I wanna throw the apple into the sky/Feels like you never understand me/So I just wanna drive/To the airport, the airport/The airport, the airport]

Each year as Sanemi grew older, he became more nervous to look at his reflection, afraid of what he might see. Would he retain the soft features of his mother? Or would his father’s presence haunt him as he stared into the eyes that reminded him of everything bad in this world? He hated feeling this way. Sometimes he would get so angry that he would break the mirror, desperate to erase the possibility of seeing the ghost of his father ever present on his face. After his rampage would finish, you were always there to dutifully clean up the mess, both physically and mentally. He was your lover, after all; taking care of each other was part of your promises to one another.

Today was one of those days where Sanemi grappled with his self worth.

Thankfully you were home, not having been sent on a demon slaying mission yet. As soon as you heard the crashing of broken glass, you prepared yourself for what was to come. Sanemi was a good husband—a great one, actually—and you knew that he had a violent upbringing. That’s why you never got upset at these outbursts; you couldn’t begin to understand how it felt to see the face of the man who brought your family so much pain look back at you every day of your life. You grabbed a dustpan and a broom on your way to the upset Wind Pillar.

“I’m coming in,” you said quietly, knocking on the door and opening it. You were met with Sanemi gripping the edge of the counter, his knuckles white with fury underneath the layers of blood dripping from his cut skin. The glass on the floor could wait—he needed to be bandaged. You opened the medical kit and dug through for tweezers and gauze. Sanemi stayed silent, still seething. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, ashamed at making such a mess. You didn’t care, though, you never did.

“I’m going to clean you up first and then I’ll get the glass, okay?” you told him, gesturing him to take a seat away from the damage he dealt. You sanitized the wounds on his knuckles before getting to work on extracting the small pieces of glass from the cuts. He barely flinched as you did this, making you frown. He must’ve been extra upset this time. When you started the bandaging process, he finally spoke up.

“I look like him. I hate it.” His voice trembled with fury. “I can’t stand knowing I’ll never be able to escape him.”

You listened intently in case he wanted to say something else, but he went quiet again. You were all done wrapping him up and placed a loving kiss on the freshly bandaged hand.

“You’re not him,” you whispered. “You’ve never raised a hand to me. You’ve never hurt me.”

Sanemi let out a humorless laugh, pulling his hand from your grasp. “Is that the standard for good husbands nowadays? What a joke.”

He abruptly stood, leaving the room. You sighed, knowing it was going to be a long day. You wished you had all the right things to say to him, anything to convince him that he’s not a carbon copy of his deadbeat dad, but you were at a loss. The only thing you could do was let him get his anger out elsewhere and he’d come to you when he was ready. You got down on your hands and knees and began to clean up the glass, careful not to cut yourself. You heard heavy footsteps re-enter the room.

“What are you doing?” Sanemi barked out.

“I’m cleaning up.”

“Would you stop? I can do it myself.”

You frowned again. “I know, I’m just trying to help.”

“Just stop, okay? I don’t need your pity!”

You ignored him and went back to your task at hand. That sent Sanemi over the edge.

“Seriously, get the fuck up. I said I’ll do it!”

You weren’t phased by his raised voice. “And I said I’m helping.”

Sanemi just stared at you, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. All of a sudden he stopped, his bloodshot eyes widening at the memory that entered his mind.

His father’s cup sloshed around with his alcohol of choice for the night. In one drunken movement, he spilled the contents onto the floor.

His mother lowered her eyes. “I’ll clean that right away.”

She took hold of the nearest rag and got down on her hands and knees, but his father didn’t care for her kindness, grabbing her roughly by the arm and hoisting her up before throwing her to the side.

“Get up! Do you think I’m some sort of useless child?” he screamed. “I can use a rag you idiot. I don’t need your help!”

“Sanemi? Are you-”

“You’re just like her,” he choked out. “You’re just like her and I’m just like him.”

You didn’t know what memory spurred that reaction but you figured it was a bad one. You reached out to comfort him but he was gone in an instant. You heard the front door slam shut and you knew he would be gone until evening. He couldn’t stand to be in the same vicinity as you during times like these when you reminded him of his mother as he was acting like his father. He couldn’t stand knowing he could never truly rid himself of the tendencies that were passed down from the man he was unfortunate enough to be born to.

[I guess the apple could turn yellow or green/I know there's lots of different nuances/To you and to me/I wanna grow the apple, keep all the seeds/But I can't help but get so angry/You don't listen to me/To the airport, the airport/The airport, the airport/I'm gonna drive, gonna drive all night/I'm gonna drive, gonna drive all night]

Sanemi hurried out the door, desperately needing air and wanting to put as much space as he could between himself and you. He couldn’t believe he let himself get so angry, especially at you. The recollection of his father yelling at his mother the same way he had just done to you was a grim realization for Sanemi that he was following in his father’s footsteps. He picked up his sword and began hacking away, channeling his frustrations into obliterating the training dummy. The more he thought about his previous actions, the more he raged, howling winds swirling around him in an outward reflection of the storm inside himself. He had completely lost himself in his fury, only halting when the dummy was chopped into tiny pieces. The scene in front of him was reminiscent of the one he left inside; yet again, Sanemi proved he only knew violence. He threw his sword away from him, disgusted with his actions, before falling to his knees and shoving his face in his hands. Why couldn’t he have been more like his mother? Calm, caring, loving. She was the light in the perpetual darkness of his father. Weren’t his hands, though calloused and stained with blood (literally and figuratively), capable of handling things with grace and a nurturing touch? Why, instead, was he destined to destroy everything? Or—even worse—was this not destiny in play, but his own choices leading him to blaze through life and hurt everyone close to him? He knew he had the ability to choose love and show the softer side of his personality, he had done it plenty of times in the past. You, his loving wife, had made it easier for Sanemi to follow a more peaceful path, encouraged him to embrace his kinder side, yet he still found himself vexed over little things too often for his liking. It was like vengeance and anger were innate needs, something he couldn’t give up no matter how hard he tried. You deserved better than him; he had made that clear from the very start of your relationship. You didn’t believe him for one second, knowing he had goodness in his heart as he had shown glimpses of his affectionate nature many times. The protective walls he had constructed inside himself were there for a reason but you often broke through them, Sanemi never understanding why you would commit yourself to such a grueling task with no reward at the end (you would disagree as being loved by him was the greatest reward you could ever want). Countless nights were spent by him wondering why you continued to be married to someone like him. He saw no positives for you in your union and when he expressed that, those were the only times it was you who was angry rather than him.

[I think the apple's rotten right to the core/From all the things passed down/From all the apples coming before/I split the apple down symmetrical lines/And what I find is kinda scary/Makes me just wanna drive

I wanna know where you go/When you're feeling alone/When you're feeling alone, do you…]

Sanemi had stayed crumpled on the ground until the sun threatened to dip below the horizon, signaling that nightfall was arriving soon. He gingerly walked inside the house, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere that came with his absence. It was dark in every room, save for the few candles you left burning in the kitchen to signal the plate of dinner you had left out for him. Sanemi’s stomach was in knots; he had left you all alone yet you still cooked his favorite food for him.

Some husband I am.

He savored the bites of ohagi as he sat in silence, wondering where you were. Had you finally had enough of him and left? No, you wouldn’t do that without telling him first. You were many things but you certainly weren’t heartless. Worry started settling into him as the sun wasted away. You shouldn’t be out after dark. Sure, you were a demon slayer, but he’d seen the most talented members of the corps slain when they were caught off guard. He gulped down the last of his food and took off in a hurry; to where, he didn’t know. He had no idea where you went when he would storm out. Cussing under his breath, he checked all the rooms of the mansion again.

“Y/n?” he called out. Nothing. Now he was starting to panic. He yanked one of the extra swords from the cabinet in your shared bedroom and tore through the door to the outside. He investigated the surrounding area, yelling your name but getting no response. His mind was scrambled, his breath scattered.

Where could she be?

As soon as that thought hit his brain, he knew exactly where you were.

He found you in the garden.

You were sitting on a stepping stone, your gaze settling on the flowers surrounding you.

“You shouldn’t be out in the dark. It’s not safe.”

Sanemi’s voice, having lost its harshness, made you smile. He was always worried for others and took on such a protective role; how he couldn’t see the positive impact he had, you didn’t know.

“I have my sword,” you replied, not facing him. “And I have you.”

Sanemi’s face burned at his wife’s saccharine tone. He took up a spot next to you, your shoulders brushing together. He wanted to apologize for his behavior today but he didn’t know how to start.

He was his father’s son: brash, unrelenting, unstoppable.

He was his father’s son: he was a coward.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

He furrowed his brow. “Why the hell are you apologizing? I’m the jerk here.” He took a deep breath, looking off into the distance as he tried to articulate his feelings. “I’m… I’m sorry. For everything. Today and in the past. It sickens me knowing the woman I love has to see the man that I hate.”

You reached out to hold his hand and this time he allowed you to, grasping you with a featherlight touch.

“I’m no good,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know why you stay.”

He awaited your usual heated response, but it didn’t come.

“Sanemi, look at me.”

You spoke with such authority that he didn’t dare defy you. His white hair resembled the color of the moon, both shiny brightly in the dark of night.

“I love you. All of you. You are not the monster you think yourself to be, not even close. Yes, you have a temper. Yes, you can get incensed on a whim. Those are not the world ending traits you think them to be. You are a good man, Sanemi. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. Maybe then you could understand my love for you.”

Sanemi felt his heart thumping wildly in his chest. You always comforted him in ways he never knew possible, but something about tonight was making your sentiments affect him more than usual.

“From what I know, your father would’ve never owned up to his mistakes,” you continued, using your free hand to rub circles on his back. “You’re already a million times better of a man than he ever was.”

“Do you remember when we found those beetles you love so much?” you asked, earning a confused look from Sanemi as he nodded. “You raised the babies into healthy adults. That takes patience and compassion, both of which you have an abundance of in here.” You poked his exposed chest. “How about the time I was so sick I couldn’t stand? You took care of me all day and night, barely getting a wink of sleep yourself because you were so concerned.”

Sanemi did remember all of that.

“I was so scared you were gonna die,” he mumbled. “I don’t think I could live without you.”

“Those situations are what prove how great of a husband, of a person, you truly are.” You squeezed his hand. “Look inside yourself, my love. You’ll see that there’s traits you inherited from both parents. It’s up to you to decide who you’d rather embody, nothing is set in stone or chosen for you. I think you’ll find you take after your mother more than you think.”

Sanemi got up, brushing off his pants before offering you his hands to grab as he hoisted you up, pulling you into a warm hug. He nuzzled his nose into your neck, taking steadying breaths.

“Thank you,” he muttered, his eyelashes fluttering closed as he held you, “for being by my side. For loving me. For believing in me.”

As he stood there with you, cradling your body with his own, he was reminded of a substantially better memory than the one from that morning.

“Goodnight mommy!” Sanemi had said, his little feet sprinting as he threw himself into his mother’s open arms. She was sporting her large, beautiful grin that he missed seeing so often.

“Goodnight, my child,” she responded, burrowing her nose into his messy hair before placing a gentle kiss there.

He smiled to himself, kissing the top of your head.

I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

[spockandawe]

Hello hello! I'm sleepy and bored at work, but still have two meetings to go, and THEN I stumbled across an ask game a themed reading list! I got linked to it here by a friend, and I've been reading a surprising amount this year compared to what I usually manage, so let's goooo

Author you've read the most books from:

Oh man. This has to be either Terry Pratchett or Mercedes Lackey, even though I haven't gone through the WHOLE catalog for either one. Let's look this up? Wow, more of a difference than i was expecting: Terry Pratchett, 39. Mercedes Lackey, 63.

Best Sequel Ever:

Oh, that's so hard! Arguably Thud! by Terry Pratchett counts, but looking that late in a long series feels like cheating. I'm going to say either Ancillary Sword (imperial radch #2) by Anne Leckie, or The Siren Depths (books of the raksura #3), by Martha Wells. The earlier books hooked me, but then these ones just put me in the salad spinner and went to town.

Currently Reading (12/'24):

Too many ���� I won't even get into mangas and manhwas here, lmao.

Evil As Humans by Nian Zhong

I Became A God In A Horror Game by Pot Fish Chili

SSS-Class Suicide Hunter by Shin Noah

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint by Sing Shong

The Guild Member Next Door by Honeytrap (this hasn't snagged me yet, but the manhwa is extremely charming, i mayyy just stick to that)

Star Instructor, Master Baek (loved the manhwa, NEED full prose context, haha)

Drink of Choice While Reading:

I read a lot on walks, so none, really! If I'm reading in bed i might make tea or grab something cold and bubbly, but i tend to get too immersed to remember my beverages.

E-reader or Physical Book:

E-reader. I was that weird kid who always carried around like five books, and this is so much better. It's faster, it's more convenient, I can word search, it's easier to share snippets with friends, it suits all my needs beautifully. The caveat. Is that I dont trust the permanence of digital media at ALL, especially if drm is involved, so i really try to own physical copies of everything i LOVE.

Fictional Character You Probably Would Have Dated in High School:

Oh god, dating, the worst activity. Ummm. Gosh. See. My trouble here is that I have chronically terrible instincts for who is actually good romantic interest material in real life, and that problem was SO MUCH WORSE as a teenager. Let's say Sha Hualing. Is this ending well for me? Nope!

Glad You Gave This Book a Chance:

'C Language Cultivation' by Yi Shi Si Zhou! I'm an engineer, but god, i am not a programmer. But I'm so glad I went into this book anyways! I was able to MOSTLY get pulled along for the ride when characters talked programming, and I think its SUCH an interesting way to conceptualize cultivation in a modern setting. And then on top of that, the plot went crunch and did some really interesting things! I would have balked at this one normally, but it really worked for me.

Hidden Gem Book:

'Evil As Humans' by Nian Zhong. I really need to rave about this one more, because it's one of the best cnovels I've ever read, and I'm so sad it took me this long to catch word of it. I'm not done yet, because i got overwhelmed by Emotions and was afraid of running out of book so I stopped reading, like a dumbass. It's so so so so good. It's got everything. It's got fascinating worldbuilding, amazing characters, glorious imagery, BEEFY plot, and one of my favorite relationships I've ever read. I would recommend this book whether or not someone has read a cnovel in their life before. And it's so sad that hardly anyone talks about it!

Important Moment in Your Reading Life:

Ooh, I think.... that moment in the peak pandemic days when I was finally intrigued enough to check out MDZS. First, I devoured it and it was SO good. Second, I kept reading cnovels. Third, my passion for cnovels got me into bookbinding. This really made a notable impression on the course of my life since then, which I frankly wasn't expecting at this age!

Just Finished:

Hmmm. I'm not FINISHED, but I'm caught up to the current translation of 'The Hunter's Gonna Lay Low' by Baek Sam. The translator said they would hopefully be catching at the end of this month, and god, I really hope so, this book lodged inside my ribcage.

Longest Book You've Read:

'The Husky and his White Cat Shizun' by Meatbun. It's 1.2 million words. If I ever finish ORV that will dethrone it, but for the love of god, montressor

Major Book Hangover:

Haha, any book I like tends to leave me hung over! I notice especially for the cnovels because they're so long and I get my emotions spun up so high, but it's definitely a regular feature. The only time this doesn't happen is if it's a series like Murderbot when I can immediately press on to the next book, until the inevitable SERIES hangover.

Number of bookcases:

Oh, unfair, the sizes vary wildly. In my house, let me see. There's a BIG built-in bookcase in the basement that has most of my prose fiction and craft books. Basement bedroom has a freestanding bookshelf that might be for art instructional books and art supplies, but im still rearranging.

Upstairs, i have a wide/short bookshelf that's also a tv stand, but it's split between western comics and board games. Kitchen has a teeny wall-mounted set of shelves with my cookbooks. Dining room has a buffet where my shortlisted craft books are stored (so I don't have to get them from the basement).

And upstairs, my pink bedroom has two. There's a small built-in that's for my manga collection and small zines. And there's a corner bookshelf that's for sheet music and coffee table books. I think that's everything!

Preferred Place to Read:

On long walks 🥺 It's so nice. I like it so much. The weather is hostile to my fingeys at this time of year, I need to drag out my various fingerless gloves and scatter them in convenient places so i remember yo grab them. Other than that, curled up in bed, either lying down or sitting against a back pillow.

Quote That Inspires You:

Oh gosh. I dont remember quotes very well. And 'inspire' might be the wrong word. But a number of Terry Pratchett ones stick with me, he really just was an incredibly memorable writer

It was sad music. But it waved its sadness like a battle flag. It said the universe had done all it could, but you were still alive.

-Terry Pratchett, 'Soul Music'

Reading Regret:

I don't regret reading books! Even the ones I hate. If I'm not getting something out of the experience, I'm hideously adhd to begin with, I will probably forget to finish rather than even consciously decide to quit. If I have a regret, maybe... I have a lot of other hobbies and obligations, and there are SO many books I wish I'd already read. I regret not prioritizing reading more in my life, even though I'm sure that in this AU, I'd have brand new regrets instead 😂

Series You Started and Need to Finish:

Mmmmm... Imperial Radch. I read the first trilogy l, the short stories, and Provenance. I just haven't been able to find the right headspace to start Translation State. I'm sure I'll love it! But I haven't done it yet.

Three of Your All-Time Favorite Books:

Agonizing!

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

Hogfather by Terry Pratchett

Unapologetic Fan for:

The Books of the Raksura, by Martha Wells!! I love murderbot, but i LOOOOVE the raksura books, they deserve more appreciation

Very Excited for This Release:

Alecto the Ninth please im begging on hands and knees 🤣

Worst Bookish Habit:

Look, I am. Very adhd. I will accept your rec with great excitement and make a reminder to myself to go check out this book asap. Then i will also forage for my own new books, because it's good enrichment in my enclosure. Let's not ask what my follow-through numbers are like. Shh, don't worry about it.

X Marks The Spot: Start at the top left of your shelf and pick the 27th book:

Oh, this is gonna drive me nuts. I'm at work, but i HAVE a picture. The resolution, however--

It's the slim hot pink and black paperback. It's an Agatha Christie, and I'm almost positive it's 'The Mysterious Affair At Styles.' But I can't find this edition online to confirm. The book to its left is 'Any Way The Wind Blows' by Rainbow Rowell, the one left of that is 'Alta' by Mercedes Lackey, the one to its right is the complete Sherlock Holmes, and the one right of that is 'Sleeping Beauty' by Mercedes Lackey, so I know my books pretty well! But that ONE. Is driving me nuts 😂

Your Latest Book Purchase:

'Tiger Tiger' by Petra Erika Nordlund! It's sitting on the shelf next to my front door, and I'm POSITIVE I'll enjoy it, but the stars haven't been aligned for me to start it yet, expecially because i do read so much on my phone but i think graphic novels are a Must for physical purchases. If i have digital purchase of comics, they're probably redundant with my physical copies. They're just as ephemeral as prose ebooks, but so much larger to store 😂

ZZZ-snatcher book (last book that kept you up WAY late):

Ooh, that's probably 'I Became A God In A Horror Game' by Pot Fish Chili. This is an interesting one, because between story arcs I lose momentum and take a longgggg pause. But then DURING story arcs, I can't put the silly thing down. It's gripping as HELL.

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC REVIEW: Left of Forever by Tarah DeWitt

4.5/5. Releases 5/20/5.

—high school sweethearts to parents to married to divorced to ???

—roadtrip romance

—nobody's rich!!!!!

—some of the most delightfully ludicrous sex scene setups

Heat Index: 7/10

The Basics:

Ellis and Wren had a kid as teenagers. Then they got married... then they were supposed to be together. But that didn't work, and a few years after their divorce, they set to drop their son off at college. But Ellis drops a bomb on Wren: He wants to see if there's something between them still; and he proposes a week together on the way back to see if they can make it work. Easier! Said! Than! Done!

The Review:

When I say we need contemporary romances with stakes and intense emotion...

This is the perfect kind of second chance by way of divorce book. DeWitt seems to instinctively understand the importance of emphasizing the sheer degree of intimacy between two people who were as serious as Ellis and Wren. And it's the emotional, yes; but it's also the way the emotion translates to their physical relationship.

Left of Forever is an amazing argument in favor of explicit content in romance novels. It's so clear that Wren and Ellis know each other, can communicate in a way you only can once you've shared a life with someone. But there's also the sort of raw hunger they feel for each other. It doesn't read like romance novel magic; it reads like people who know each other on a real level, who love the quirks and rhythms of one another's bodies. The romance between these two, on so many levels, felt realer to me than it often does in contemporary romance.

Might I add, part of this was also because Ellis and Wren live comfortable but not-crazy lives and aren't megarich. He's a firefighter, she's a baker. They've been raising a kid for most of their lives. They haven't traveled the way they wanted to, and the roadtrip is an in-state adventure. They're good! They're happy! But they're also tangible. And I'm not anti-megarich people romance, right? But there's something refreshing about this approach. Like, even the cowboy romances often feature cowboys who live on wealthy ranch land or whatever.

All that being said, Ellis is one of the hottest heroes I've read in a while. Because he isn't perfect! He's withholding and proprietary at times. He fucks up. He makes one delightfully unethical decision to basically kick this book off. All of this makes him feel more like a real human you could fall in love with. A real human with vulnerabilities... And like... The ability to break you in half...

Wren is similarly refreshingly real. Part of this novel deals with secondary infertility issues Wren and Ellis experienced while they were married. I loved the way in which DeWitt alluded to Wren's desperation for a baby when they were trying while never betraying her more nuanced feelings in the present. It was so complex and believable and again... I loved it.

Nothing in this novel reinvents the wheel plotwise. This is a character-forward book. It just emotionally hits every beat at the max level of emotion.

The Sex:

Look, the sex in this book was AMAZING. We got loooovemaking. We got primal sex. We got funny sex. We got an act we don't see in tradpub romance much at all! There's an incident with ice cream that made me laugh AND pearlclutch. A win!

Conclusion:

When I say this will grab your heart and twist it in a way that's somehow comforting, I mean it. And small town romance antis like me.... look , this one is DIFFERENT. Read it!

Thanks to St. Martin's Griffin and NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[givemea-dam-break]

Not a prompt unless you want it to be, but you’re the only one who will appreciate -

George/Reader (or OC) where Reader is a Database Analyst for Fittes. Enemies to lovers.

Reader dedicates her life to making information more accessible/understandable/traceable and George can begrudgingly accept that. They make appointments with each other to argue over the merits of digitization, tagging systems, etc and if these arguments spill over into meal times, maybe they grab a bite and keep arguing, and oh no does everyone think we’re dating??

Anyways <3

a/n: RAHHHHHHHH I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH!!!! i know essentially nothing about technology though so i’ve probably butchered that part of this but i hope you enjoy!!! and thank you to @ikeasupremacy you really helped this go from a 2 page long flop that contained literally fuck all to a 5 page decent piece of work pahaha

warnings: mild language, mild angst words: 2.8K taglist: @neewtmas @locklylemybeloved @aayeroace @gotlostinfiction @waitingforthesunrise @mirrorballdickinson @mischiefmanaged71 @magicandmaybe @wellgoslowly @ettadear gn reader

Nice To Meet You - George Karim

“You know that, on the whole, this will make life way easier for you?”

“Since when do you want to make life easy for me?”

Taking an angry bite out of your sandwich, you say, “I’m not doing this specifically for you, twat. This is quite literally the purpose of my job, so it’s for everyone.”

George Karim sits back in his chair, glaring at you through the green reflections on his glasses. “And what exactly is the benefit of digitalising all of it?”

“Going over this again? Right, well, for one, there’s going to be new computers put into the Archives meaning more people can use them. Have I lost you yet? No? All right. For two, being able to search up what you want in a database is way easier than pacing for hours trying to find an old newspaper that someone might be using already. For three, multiple people can read the same file at the same time. You can’t do that with the musty old paper copies.”

There’s a moment of silence and an air of tension thick enough that you could cut it with a knife. The only sounds beyond George’s annoyed huffs of breath are the jingle of the café’s windchimes and chatter from other customers.

If you had your way, you wouldn’t even be sitting here discussing your plan of action with him, but your supervisor told you that you’d best talk about it to other agencies and their members to see what their thoughts are. Of course, the one time you head to Lockwood and Co. with the intention of speaking to them on purpose, hoping and praying you’d at least be speaking to Anthony Lockwood himself; you were sent off with his second and by far the most infuriating boy in all of London, George Karim. And, well, as you already know, he is a tough nut to crack.

“Why are you so stuck up on physical files, anyways?” you ask. “It’s not like we’re going to burn them on a pyre and force you to use a website. They’ll still be there. It just seems much more convenient to click a few buttons and have what you need.”

“They hold a particularly warm place in my heart,” he says with a hint of sarcasm. “But, fine, okay, life will be made easier for everybody with this new system. So why is it only being implemented now? Smaller agencies could’ve done with this years ago while Fittes and Rotwell and all the big companies have had it this whole time.”

Though you hate it, you can only shrug. “The big companies don’t want to have to compete with the smaller ones.”

“You’re saying this, but you’re working for Fittes, the biggest of the big companies.”

You grip your sandwich harder, pretending it’s George’s throat. “Yes, well, better pay than a smaller company. Some of us don’t get offered a bedroom when being accepted into a job. Besides, as much as I don’t like the big companies making a huge profit off of the Problem, I don’t have a choice. They’re the only ones with the resources I need. And, don’t forget, that’s where you used to work, too.”

Surprisingly, George doesn’t have a quip for that. He takes a thoughtful sip of his tea, glancing out of the café window and onto the busy street just beyond. The sunlight hits the lenses of his glasses in such a way that they shine a reflection down onto the table in front of you.

“So, this would be accessible for everyone?” he asks. “Not just the big agencies and their lackeys.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this to make you believe it, but yes. If that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

Quite frankly, you’re not surprised about having to repeat things over and over. Every single conversation you’ve ever had with George, no matter how fleeting or filled with irritation, has seemed like he had the personal mission of finding flaws in everything you do. Holding your rapier wrong – you absolutely did not, if anything, he was holding his wrong. Pronouncing a word wrong once. Taking a moment longer than him to spell a ridiculously long word on a report.

Now is no different. It’s as if you can see the cogs turning in his mind, working overtime trying to find an issue with this plan. But there’s nothing, that much you know from you and your team’s extensive planning and the look of mild horror on his face.

You can’t help the proud smile that parts your lips. “Go on, then, Georgie. Thoughts?”

He gives you a scathing look that only fuels the pride burning in your chest. “I think…”

“Yes?”

“I think that…”

“Carry on. I need to hear you say it.”

“Oh, shut up. I think that it’s a good idea.”

“Hmm? What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

You’ve never seen such anger in a person’s eyes. “I think that it’s a good idea. Happy?”

“Very. That’s all I needed to hear.”

George opens his mouth to say something, probably something insulting, but a waitress breezes over. She’s a sweet middle-aged lady with a contagious smile that even has him easing up a bit.

With a twinkle in her warm eyes, she asks, “Is there anything else I can get the lovely couple?”

And that does it. If you weren’t so shocked yourself, the horrified expression on George’s face would’ve cracked you up. It looks as if someone stepped on his puppy and then tried to feed it to him. Then, amongst your own disgust, you realise that the expression is at the thought of dating you, and no matter the animosity the two of you share, you can’t help but be a little offended.

“Oh, uh, we’re not –“ You purse your lips. “Nothing else, thanks.”

She leaves momentarily, and your table lapses into an entirely uncomfortable silence. You can’t look at George. He can’t look at you. There’s a weird pit in your stomach. Nausea. Right? Because… Ew.

“I told you we shouldn’t have continued this conversation during my lunch break,” you grumble.

He hums in agreement, finding particular interest in his swirling tea. “We should probably go.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh, we’ve covered all bases. Of the plan, I mean. Not anything else. The plan. My job.”

But, even still, you’re both sitting. You’re not moving. Why? Maybe you’re paralysed with disgust. Maybe the mere thought of people thinking that the two of you are dating is debilitating. Maybe, maybe, maybe… You’re considering it?

God, no. That’s horrid to even think about.

“I, um, are you heading back to the Archives, too?” you ask.

George takes a moment to respond, as if lost in a daze. “Oh. Yeah – Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

As soon as you stand, George is on his feet, enough money slapped on the table for the two of you, and heading over to the exit. And, well, as much as you want to let him head off on his own, here comes that realisation that it’s a little insulting that he is the one trying to escape so quickly.

What a little prick.

You’re out of the door almost as soon as he is, insistent that you will be the one ahead. Yeah, sure, you’re heading to the same place and could try to be amenable, but will you? God, no. You want him to know that you can leave just as easily and are just as horrified by this prospect of a relationship as he is.

Why wouldn’t he want to date you? Beyond the constant arguments you have, you’ve always figured you’re a pretty decent person. Smart, but not arrogantly so. Friendly. Funny. Good company. Caring. What’s not to like? How dare he be disgusted!

But he seems just as determined to reach the Archives first. It’s only a few corners away, but it feels like a miles-long race between the two of you. But if the prize is your dignity, then to hell with the distance – you’d go actual miles to preserve that, especially against George.

It comes to a halt when you’re forced to wait at traffic lights, unable to even slip across the street before they change from red to green merely because of the amount of coincidentally flooding traffic.

For what feels like hours, you have to stand beside him, listening to him breathe and mutter and tut as if this is the biggest inconvenience in the world. Hey, if he didn’t think a relationship with you was such a horrible idea then this wouldn’t be taking place!

No matter that you think the exact same. You’re allowed to feel like that.

Do you feel like that?

The beeping of the pedestrian crossing jerks you from your thoughts, and you’re rushing across the street before you know it. And, oh, curse his long legs! He’s getting ahead of you.

There’s an anger building up in your chest now, one that probably isn’t fully justified. Perhaps it stems from deep-rooted feelings of inadequacy you’ve not had the mind to think about for a little while now. Or even just out of pure spite of George Karim that has been pulsing through your veins for years now. Why has it been there? Because of him. Because of his incessant need to find flaws in your work and you, and his need to huff at anything you say or do. Like your existence is a bother.

Either way, the anger forms words before you can think to dismantle them. “What’s your issue with me?”

George pauses, near the side of the pavement, with the Archives in clear view behind him. He’s frowning over back you, dark eyes narrowed and bouncing with golden sunlight. Why should someone that hates you so be complimented by the sun? It’s entirely unfair, especially when it’s only blinding you.

“What?”

You stop a foot or two in front of him, panting a little from walking so fast. “What exactly is your problem with me? What did I do to you? Because, far as I know, you’ve hated me ever since we first met.”

The words take a minute to process, and it looks as though he’s trying to figure out some hidden meaning behind them. There’s nothing hard about what you’ve asked. Nothing harder than admit you feel ashamed to have even asked it.

“I don’t –“ George’s frown only deepens, taking complete notice of the frustration on your face.

“Forget I asked,” you say. “It doesn’t matter. Stupid question anyways.”

But, when you start to walk away, a hand on your wrist stops you, pulling you back slightly. When you  look back, George is there, hand wrapped around your arm and staring at it as if it isn’t his own skin on yours. You expect him to pull away, disgusted at the thought of touching you, but his grip only softens slightly.

“I don’t hate you,” he says.

Scoffing, you say, “Yeah, right, and I’m Penelope Fittes. Let go of me.”

And, to his merit, he does. But your feet aren’t cooperating. They won’t move. Why, why, why won’t they move?

“I’ve never hated you,” he murmurs. His gaze is fixed on yours, something you’ve always noticed he’s steered clear of doing, and you feel frozen under it. “Intimidated, yeah.”

“Intimidated?” You roll your eyes. “George, come on. I was trying to be serious, but you’re just making a joke of it.”

The look in his eyes at that moment is a mix of desperation and exasperation. “I am being serious. Do you know how hard it is to be regarded as the smartest person someone’s met, to rely on the intelligence as your only form of worth to people, and then find someone smarter than you?”

Words try to form in your throat, only to crumble like chalk beneath too-strong fingers.

“And I’m sorry it’s made me lash out at you,” he continues. “I know it’s a horrible thing to do, but it’s like my mouth doesn’t want to cooperate with my brain. Truly, I regret how I’ve treated you. You’ve never deserved it.”

Your throat feels thick, and it’s hard to swallow. “Georgie, don’t lie.”

There’s a flicker of a smile on his lips then. “You know I like it when you call me that?”

“You told me you hated it when I call you Georgie,” you say, but it feels like your voice is dwindling.

“I told you that so you’d call me it more,” he admits. “(name), I really, truly have never hated you. And, again, I am so sorry I’ve treated you the way I have. I admire your intelligence and your insistence of sticking up for yourself. I just wish I had started things differently between us.”

The anger is back, burning a hole in your chest. “You’ve had years to tell me this. Why? Why didn’t you?”

He’s breathing rather heavily. “I was scared. I was trying to figure things out – my feelings, your feelings. But, more than anything, I couldn’t bring myself to change from the person you’d begun to see, because what if you hated the real me more than this one you know so well?” Now, his eyes tear away from yours as he stares up at the sky, looking for guidance from some divine being. “Even when you insulted me, I enjoyed it because it was from you. How lucky was I to even be able to speak to you, never mind hear you come up with all these unique names? There are millions of people who have never heard you speak, who have never had the pleasure of speaking to you or will never have it again, and I didn’t even want to chance becoming one of them.”

With that, the flames roaring inside your chest are extinguished. Instead, now, there’s a strange, unfamiliar feeling in your stomach that inches its way up your body and into your mouth, holding your tongue and stopping your ability to speak.

Despite all the quips, the need to find faults in what you do, he has never meant it. How horrible does that make you, saying all of these things to him because that was how you genuinely felt?

Do they count, seeing as they were formed on the basis of a personality that doesn’t truly exist?

Your fingers hurt from tearing at the skin around your nails. “You really think I’m so bad that I wouldn’t like the real you? Georgie, there is no way I wouldn’t have preferred it.”

He laughs at that, and the sound only bolsters this strange feeling in your stomach. Not quite butterflies, but almost. More melancholic. Could you have had the opportunity to hear that laugh for years now? To cherish it the way a person does a memory? The way an artist does a creation?

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell you how sorry I am,” he says, and you swear he inches slightly closer. “About the way I acted. The fact it’s taken me this long to admit this to you. All of it. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

And you don’t. Not really. Not when it’s left a hollow feeling in your chest, left by the realisation that everything you said was unfounded and cruel and based on a person you had no true conception of. Not when this is how it has been for years between you both. Weeks, you could understand. But years?

There’s a part of you, though, that could potentially forgive him, given the chance. George may be quick to criticise or provide information for something, but he has always kept his emotions at arm’s length, that much even you know. So, for him to come and outright tell you all of this takes insane courage.

Even still, you can’t fully comprehend it all.

“Well,” you say, “you paid for my lunch. So that’s a start.”

He smiles then. A flash of white teeth and an insurgence of unfamiliar fondness in your heart.

“We could restart,” he suggests, pushing his glasses up his nose just so.

Despite the hollowness, you nod and manage a small smile. “I’d like that.”

Not even a second later, his hand is hovering in the air just between you both. “George Karim. Nice to meet you.”

It shouldn’t make your smile grow, it really shouldn’t, but it does.

“(name) (last name),” you say, clutching his hand in yours. “Nice to meet you, too.”

And, somehow, that smile of his, one you’re sure you’ll grow more accustomed to, adds a small piece of filling to the hole in your chest.

[starflungwaddledee]

Hello I wanted to ask if its ok for others to include your magical signature headcannon to their kirby aus,it’s so cool and I wanna use it but I wanna make sure your ok with it first

{the headcanons in question}

oh, yes!! of course, absolutely! i don't think it's all that original, and you're free to take elements and change it how you like, but i'm also happy to elaborate a little on how it works in our specific worldbuilding in case it helps anyone!

as with everything i'd of course love to know if folks use this headcanon in their works!! if you like the idea of using visuals for them how i do, i grab free-use photos from unsplash!

i consider this whole thing to be an alien sensory ability with some synesthetic connotations. for some it could be auditory, for others physical or visual; for others a combination. despite this there is usually agreement on what individual signatures "feel like", regardless of how they are felt

magical signatures are basically just like voices, or faces, or fingerprints. some might be more appealing to certain folks for certain reasons, some might be stronger or more quiet than others (usually a stronger signature denotes stronger magic) but none are inherently bad; not even scary or "evil" ones

these magic voices are all unique, but they can change with time or be a little different in different circumstances. a related family or species might have similar traits in their signatures. folks who share magic very often may pick up notes from each other. life experiences could drastically alter your voice one way or another. someone could- given time, skill, and perhaps malicious intent- override your magic with their own

a stronger proficiency for magic makes sensing these signatures easier. most often they are sensed through touch, and it is generally uncontrollable- like feeling the temperature of your skin. you could initiate a share with someone who was unconscious or unwilling and in most cases still sense their true signature

if you are "sharing" (healing via a mild psychic magic link; imagine a multi-way electric current) your magic will be sensed by the other parties. waddle dees, who are social healers with a social sharing gift, are especially sensitive to the touch-signature

hiding or concealing or changing your signature on purpose is unusual. there's an essence of undeniable truth to it, like soul-seeing. someone like meta knight could learn to purposefully withhold the full strength of their signature, to avoid overwhelming others as an act of kindness. someone like galacta knight could easily do the opposite

the reason starstruck dee's signature in particular is off-putting is not because of the notes of her signature, though it is corrupted: a little unsettling and a little overwhelming; like a very loud voice. the problem is that her signature does not match that of a waddle dee. it's like encountering a dog that quacks like a duck, or touching something that looks dry but is wet. if she were not a waddle dee, most would have taken her signature in stride as simply 'alien'

similarly her ability to 'lie' through her signature is steeply abnormal and meta knight is actively teaching her to hone this skill. in the hope that she'll unlock her 'real' signature by trying on others. in the hope that she'll have a better time socialising with others if she's not so uncanny.

at present she's able to copy other signatures, or combine several into one "new one", but hasn't found one that feels right despite meta knight's tutelage. he's not a fan of how easily she copied his

[petruchio]

“The other tributes begin to line up as well. I'm confused because, while they all are angry, some are giving us sympathetic pats on the shoulder, and Johanna Mason actually stops to straighten my pearl necklace.“Make him pay for it, okay?��� she says.”

The hunger games supreme, i would die if you analysed the scene with the other victors seeing katniss in the wedding dress for the interviews

u know what's so exciting anon is that i'm visiting my parents for the next week and a half so i have access to my physical copies of the trilogy now and i literally saw this ask and grabbed my copy of cf off the shelf so we could get analyzing together. so let's dive in...

so looking at what comes directly before that passage, we have this:

The other tributes have already gathered offstage and are talking softly, but when Peeta and I arrive, they fall silent. I realize everyone's staring daggers at my wedding dress. Are they jealous of it's beauty? The power it might have to manipulate the crowd? Finally Finnick says, “I can't believe Cinna put you in that thing.”

i think it's interesting that the katniss jumps to jealousy here, because at this point in the novel she's still under the impression that they're all *actually* competing -- she's not in on the plan for the rebellion yet, so her understanding of everyone's actions in catching fire is that they are her opponents. in a way it kind of parallels how she feels about peeta in the first novel: she interprets him as an adversary, though she later discovers (as do we) that he was always trying to help her. the same is true of her relationships with finnick and johanna in the second book.

so from that perspective, how do we interpret finnick's comment here? because he knows about the rebellion, and he also knows that katniss DOESN'T. i don't know if we can know for sure whether or not he knows about cinna's involvement though -- so either he does know cinna is a rebel and is horrified at how blatantly he'd use katniss to rebel against the capitol without her knowledge (almost taking advantage of her naivety?) OR he doesn't know about cinna's involvement and is disgusted by his invocation of the wedding and the k/p love narrative, which we know all the other victors (at this point) believe to be a sham. i'm not sure how i read that, so i'd be curious what other people think -- those are just my initial thoughts. either way, i think he pities her because he recognizes that she doesn’t understand the full implication of what she’s wearing.

then the there's the passage you mentioned, which opens with this:

"Cashmere tosses her flowing blond curls back and spits out, "Well, you look ridiculous!" She grabs her brother's hand and pulls him into place to lead our procession onto the stage."

let's assume cashmere also believes the love story is an act. she's probably saying it's "ridiculous" to keep this ruse going, because the assumption is that katniss is going to turn on peeta as soon as they get into the arena and single-mindedly fight for her own survival -- and since we're presuming katniss doesn't actually love peeta, the wedding dress is just another representation of how performative the whole thing is. the rest of the victors are probably thinking -- can't she just drop the act already so we can get going. only katniss and peeta both play it UP instead, and furthermore, katniss ISN'T trying to kill peeta. she's trying to keep him alive.

then comes the quote you pulled -- "Make him pay for it." but what follows that quote is katniss thinking about what johanna meant by that:

"This is the first time I realize the depth of betrayal felt among the victors and the rage that accompanies it."

katniss hasn't had time to think about the betrayal of it as deeply because she never truly got comfortable in her role as a victor -- she's never mentored anyone, she's never experienced the games as anything but a passive viewer and then as a tribute. so i think there's something interesting here in that she's starting to understand the complex relationship of the capitol and their exploitation of the victors. obviously she knows she's being exploited on the victory tour -- but she sees that still as just a game of protecting her family, keeping up the act so that prim doesn't get hurt. but i think this passage shows her the humanity and complexities of those she formerly perceived as the "privileged ones"

basically that is to say, we've discussed before how the arc of a lot of the hunger games is about katniss stripping away the social codes and assumptions she makes about people and seeing them and their humanity as they are. and i think her reaction to the interviews is an example of her realizing that the other victors are being exploited by the capitol just as much as they are benefitting from its supposed benevolence. sure, the victors are rich -- but that comes at the cost of their autonomy. so while they might be rich enough to buy enough food and to live in fancy houses, they can't live their lives for themselves, because the capitol is the arbiter of all that wealth, and thus they are slaves to the whims of the population.

katniss feels this on a personal level in the first half of catching fire -- in the absence of her purpose in life being to procure food to keep her family alive, she SHOULD feel free to move and act as she pleases. only she can't, because she can't disappear into the woods with gale and kiss him without the president literally showing up at her house and threatening her. and i think this passage marks the beginning of a turning point for katniss in understanding that those feelings, while specific and personal to her own unique situation, are a form of suffering shared by all the victors.

essentially, she's coming to terms with the fact that the culture's abuse of celebrities is not a problem unique to her and peeta but rather is something systemic and points to a much larger system of exploitation and inequality in the nation at large.

[bonnieisaway]

@lichrott I finally got around to making a side by side :3 at least of most moments i could find or remember

don't mind the music i didnt want it to be dead silent so i just grabbed the first thingi had. also one of the redtooth ones I wrote wrong i said season 3 ep 9 when i meant season 2 ep 9 we're not gonna talk about iitttt

This man really is only surviving through a fuck around and find out fight style huh. Also I think it's a bit telling most of the ones he DOES pick up from other people are almost always more offensive, aggressive fighting moves because Seven's naturally pretty defensive and doesn't have much issue dodging or avoiding things (or just fucking taking it like a champ) most often, but really often turns to others around him for how to attack people and that's how he's most often won fights or escaped the situation, and most of these aren't exact copies of them but he's able to adapt and adjust them for the situations he's in: holding down the Prince of Stan not to immobilize him but to stall him long enough for Thirteen to attack unlike Dachun trying to stop Seven entirely, using the drill move from Xiao Fei not entirely to attack Meowcai but also using it with his scissors to continue rushing forward and block his attacks, adapting Thirteen's fighting style to fight one on one with Meowcai when he had seen Thirteen defeat a solid majority of the other cats like this, etc etc

I think actually something that does interest me a little: different character's qi can have different colors and take a lot of different forms, but even though purple and red are more of Seven's signature colors (I'm being fairly generous with the red there given he's got a neutral color palette, but it compliments his purple well) the qi he uses with his scissors is the exact same color as Thirteen's and she's the person he tends to pick up certain moves or dual wielding in general from. I know it's pretty much always been that color but

especially here where he's physically holding them and that same color energy is still emitting from them. I might be reaching with the color thing a little but I think it is at least safe to say though Hua was the reason Seven was able to master his qi better he picked up quite a few things from Thirteen (and Green Phoenix in the past, I'd assume)

[dynamightimagines]

Hey I just randomly found your blog and was amazed by your writings!

Could I request one too, with Twice x female reader, where twice is afraid of physical touch because he's afraid to lose control over his copies? Eventually reader gets him to trust her of course and they are hugging >~<

I hope you could understand, and if you don't want to write about the villians it's totally fine!

I just think he isn't a bad guy after all :(

Thank you for reading, have a wonderful day/evening <3

Hello! Thank you so much for asking! I am going to try to write this one in a more story kind of style so sorry if it comes out awkward! Love this idea! story under the little tag hehe (ALSO I LOVE THE VILLAINS PLZ REQUEST THEM MORE)

Back Together

Everything is shaking

It's blurry, it's dark

No, it's too bright, everything is standing out so much it hurts

"Make it stop!"

Everything around the room is splitting, nothing to focus on, nothing to grasp to to regain control. It's as if everything is falling to atoms and coming together over and over and over again, nothing familiar.

If he could just breathe, stand up, focus his eyes, get to his feet, anything

"Jin?"

The buzzing in his ears stop, even if just for a split second. A voice, one that sounds familiar yet completely unheard of before, is ringing throughout the room. Is it yelling? He thought it might be a whisper, now that he's thinking of it.

"Oh, Jin! Are you okay?"

The door is open. Was it always open? No, he's sure he had closed the door when he came to his room. Wasn't it night? It's so bright in the doorway, but some of the light is blocked by a figure, now approaching him quickly. He stands up against the wall.

"Just breathe, baby, it's okay. Look at me."

Breathe. Yes, that's what he was trying to do. Breathe.

Jin takes a gulp of air in, the cold air almost stinging his lungs.

"That's it, just keep breathing. It's okay."

She takes his hand. It stings, like splinters digging deeper into his skin. He looks down and notices that's exactly what it is, his hand is littered with splinters and there's blood dripping onto his arm. She takes a small cloth and covers his hand, trying to stop the bleeding.

She shouldn't be touching him.

As if being jolted to life, Jin stands, pushing her away.

"You can't touch me!"

He can see clearly again. He's in his room. He's in headquarters. It's night.

Y/n is here, standing in front of him, holding the bloody cloth that was keeping his hand from bleeding onto the floor.

"Jin," She steps forward, hand shaking but reaching out to him. "It's me. It's okay. You're okay."

She hates how he tries to step back into the wall, whimpering like an animal trying to hide from its abuser.

"Please, you're okay, you're not splitting right now. Please let me make sure you're okay."

Her hand is still shaking but her actions seem more determined, he can see her gulp down her nerves as she moves closer.

"You can't," He whispers, bringing his hands to his hair as he pulls, wishing he had his costume right now to cover his face. His eyes are squeezed shut. He feels like any second longer will cause him to start splitting, to start contradicting himself again.

"Jin."

Her voice is stern now, he's sure of it this time.

"Baby, please."

He feels a hand on his arm, his whole body jumping as if being attacked. But this touch is gentle.

He feels the soft hand trail up to grab his own, bringing it down and wrapping the cloth around it once more

"You don't have to open your eyes."

He feels her arms wrap around him, her perfume and the warmth of her body relaxing him. He signs, his legs weakening as he feels himself slowly sink to the floor, and Y/n sits down with him.

His head is in her lap, his eyes still closed as his body slowly stops shaking, one of her hands running through his hair, the other still holding his own wounded hand. She's slowly rocking back and forth, like a mother trying to calm a child from a nightmare.

"Everything is okay," She whispers, her voice the only sound around them now. "It is just a bad episode. It's okay. You're okay."

Jin feels himself let out a small whimper, causing Y/n to tighten her grip on him.

"Thank you"

She doesn't answer, but he knows what she's thinking.

"You're touching me," he breathes.

"Yes," She replies, running her hand down his head and shoulder to caress his arm. "I am."

"You've never done that before."

A small puff of air comes from her, like a bad joke was said. "You've never let me."

"I was scared," his voice cracked, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "I didn't want to split again."

She hums, he can tell she's smiling.

"And you aren't"

It's silent again, both of them sitting on the floor in the dark, taking in this newfound moment.

"It's nice," His voice breaks through. "It is."

"Can we do it more?"

"I promise to never let you go."

HHHHH I didn't rly know how I wanted to end it sorry!! I don't ever usually write in an actual story style but I think I kinda like it LOL

[pttwice]

hi i love ur page and ur fics!! do u think u could write jihyo who doesn’t want to be small and is actively trying not to regress, with sana who notices and tries to baby her into regressing? jihyo catches on and gets mad and ends up having a breakdown that makes her regress and so cg!sama is able to step in and care for her anyway?

tysm!!

hi anon! :) thank you so much! absolutely. this request is so sweet :(( it makes my heart ache (also thank you for being patient with me! i’m very sorry this took so long to get to!)

not little hyo

|| little!jihyo, cg!sana ||

“Can you help me sort through these pictures, Jihyo?” Sana was sitting on the floor of their dorm, sifting through a huge box of old polaroids and pictures they had taken over the years.

Most photos they took with cameras that required a physical copy of the photo were somewhere with the members, but there were still too many to count that ended up in the big box.

Jihyo looked over at Sana from her spot on the couch and nodded. She slipped down onto the floor, taking a handful of the pictures. She set out one picture for each individual member and then one picture for the group. It didn’t seem like it would be too hard of a task as she sorted the first 10 pictures.

By the 30th picture she had tried to sort, Jihyo was trying not to get aggravated. There were so many pictures of the members. Different sub-units made it even harder for Jihyo to sort them into piles.

As she kept putting pictures down on the growing number of piles, she felt her head start to get fuzzy. She was starting to feel small but she didn’t want to regress. She had to be big for Sana and help her finish sorting.

Jihyo took another handful of pictures and looked into the big box. It looked like they hadn’t even made a dent. She let out a small sigh, getting more overwhelmed with each picture she held. They had so many good memories, but they were hard to sort out.

Every few pictures now, Jihyo would let out a small sigh, gently tugging on her hair when she couldn’t figure out where a picture should go.

“Too much.”

The slightly too small voice that Jihyo barely whispered with caused Sana to glance up, seeing the frustrated look on her face. Jihyo was tugging at her hair and she had a pout on her lips. Two tell-tale signs for the older girl that Jihyo was fighting regression.

Sana didn’t want to startle Jihyo but she also didn’t want her to keep fighting her regression. She knew how much it hurt the younger’s head and how much it made her body hurt.

Sana got up from her spot on the floor and walked into the kitchen. She grabbed one of Jihyo’s juice boxes out of the fridge and set it down by the girl, going back to her sorting.

Jihyo looked down at the juice box, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. She hoped that Sana wasn’t noticing that she was trying to fight off her regression and she was just trying to give her juice to be nice.

Jihyo took the juice box and poked the straw into the top, taking a few sips before she concentrated on the pictures again.

They were about halfway through the box when Jihyo muttered a quiet, “Too many pictures.” Her pout deepened and she wanted nothing more than to be done sorting so she could just curl up in her bed and sleep until she didn’t feel little anymore.

Sana got up again when she heard Jihyo mumble to herself. This time, she set the girl’s favorite stuffed owl beside her.

Jihyo looked up at Sana, a small glare on her face now. She knew Sana was just trying to help, but she didn’t want to be small. She just wanted to finish sorting.

Jihyo scooted the owl away from her with a small huff and continued to sort her pictures. When she saw the owl close beside her again, she threw her pictures into the box.

Sana looked up to see Jihyo with her arms crossed, cheeks tinted pink. She could tell the younger was mad. “I’m sorry. I just thought you might want your friend.” Sana pointed to the owl and Jihyo picked him up, throwing him onto the couch.

A few moments passed before Jihyo looked over to the couch again. Her owl was lying face down on one of the cushions and she couldn’t help but feel guilty. She looked from her owl, to the pictures, and then down to Sana. That was the last straw.

“No wanna be small! Jus’ wanna help wif pictures!” Jihyo stomped her foot and crouched down, bringing her knees to her chest.

“I know you want to help me, Ji, but maybe it would make you feel a little-“

“No!” Jihyo yelled and cut Sana off, startling the older a little. “No! No! No wanna be small!” If Jihyo didn’t feel like her head was swimming and her thoughts weren’t all fuzzy, then she would have felt guilty for yelling at Sana. Right now though, Jihyo just felt tired. She knew that regressing would make her feel better but she didn’t want to stop helping.

Sana’s heart broke at the sight in front of her. Jihyo’s face had gotten red due to how frustrated she was. Sana got up and tried to hand Jihyo her owl but she smacked it out of Sana’s hand.

Realizing what she had done, Jihyo curled up in a ball on the floor, hands covering her face as she cried. She just wanted to help Sana sort pictures. Why did her brain want her to be small and unhelpful?

After Hyo had been crying for a few seconds, she felt Sana’s arms wrap around her. Sana gently picked the little up and pulled her into her lap. She tucked Hyo’s head into her shoulder and rubbed her back, gently rocking them back and forth.

“J-jus’ wan’ed to help.” Hyo sniffled as tears stream down her face. Her body was so tired now from fighting her regression and trying to sort all of those pictures.

Sana kissed the little’s forehead and carefully pulled her away from her shoulder. She wiped Hyo’s tears with her thumbs and gave her a small smile. “You did help me, peanut. I wouldn’t have been able to do all that by myself.”

Hyo looked up at Sana, a frown on her face as she shook her head. She turned and pointed to the various stacks of photos she had done. “Made too many piles.”

Sana just shook her head and kissed the crown oh Hyo’s head. She closed the lid to the box and leaned back against the couch. “You did such a good job for me, sweet girl. Your piles are gonna make it easier for me to give it to all the unnies.”

With a little more encouragement that Hyo did in fact sort the pictures well, her tears eventually subsided. She was clutching onto Sana’s shirt, her head resting on Sana’s shoulder.

“Do you want your owl?” Sana picked Hyo’s stuffy up off the floor where she threw it and Hyo grabbed it, pulling it close to her chest.

“Sowwy I hurt you. Din’t mean to throw you.” Hyo whispered to her stuffy and kissed its head, holding it up for Sana to kiss.

They ended up sorting the rest of the pictures together, putting them in neat little piles for all of the members. They decided that any group pictures would stay at the dorm and the solo pictures would go to each individual member.

By the time they had finished, Hyo was cuddled into Sana’s side, her owl tucked under her arm as she drifted off to sleep. Sana had a drama playing in the background while she scrolled through her phone and ran her fingers through Hyo’s hair.

She never liked seeing her baby try to fight off regression, but she was glad that she finally gave in and they were able to spend a little time together.

[dirtytransmasc]

Making more of these cause the idea has been stewing all day and I need to get it out for the love of everything good or I might just loose my shit.

when peter has his "I'm so proud of you" moment with Miles, he of course announces it like Peter B. had in the movie, but the first chance he gets he grabs Miles, holding his head in his hands, smiling with his whole face, staring at him for a moment, before doing the dad "kiss your forehead, ruffle your hair, hug you till your ribs hurt, and then shake you around for some reason" combo that almost every dad on this planet has done.

Miles is such a little shadow to him, copying his every move, and Peter finds it so amusing. Definitely uses it to get Miles to take better care of himself, like he takes more breaks/breathers, drinks more water, etc.

when he was recovering from closing the collider and he was still in the hospital, the first thing he said when he woke up was "Miles" because he was all he was worried about, he just wanted to know his kid was ok, everything came after that.

when Miles was at his bedside, Peter would hold hand and just repeat "I'm so proud of you" over and over, not quite able to say much else.

MJ is like a second mom, making sure Miles eats and sleeps, trying to help him with letting go of his emotional load. she rubs his back and tosses blankets on him, giving him those mom eyes, listening when he tries to open up to her.

Peter B. is defiantly the one to talk to the kids parents, trying to keep him from getting grounded till his in his 80s. he assure them that he would never let miles do anything too unsafe, and that its better if he learns to use his abilities now so they don't invade his personal life.

he also helps explain Miles's abilities, how his bite happened, what happened to his uncle, etc. so Miles doesn't have t.

he doesn't let Miles fight any bad guys, but will let him help out on patrol and stopping petty crime like purse snatchers. he knows he's gonna try and do it on his own anyway, so he might as well give him a taste and pray it keeps the kid from doing anything too stupid.

helps him with his physics studies.

always compliments his art, even his graffiti.

makes sure to spend the day with Miles on Aarons birthday and anniversary, even if only for a little while (if he's already spending it with his mom and dad, since he doesn't want to intrude) cause he knows its hard for him to process.

he becomes a part of the Morales family. Rio loves him and MJ and treats them like one of her own, cause that's just how she is. Jeff can be a bit touchy, especially at first, since he is spiderman after all, but, he trusts him with his kid and his city, and eventually comes around to him.

him and miles will race through the city, trying to see who can go the highest or the fastest or pull off the coolest stunt.

Peter, much like Peter B., cause Miles just has that effect on Peter Parkers, has a kid because of him. Miles is automatically the kids uncle, and Peter Insists on having him actually holding the baby. the kids middle name is in some way related to Miles.

since he's a part-time photographer, he takes pictures of Miles's art, with permission, and enters him into contests. they always celebrate when he wins.

[braveclementine]

Part 22

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (However they are very few so those under the age of 18 can still read a majority of this book. However please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. Also, all of Severus and Elizabeths' childrens names are mine and mine alone. I also do not condone any copying of this.

PRINCE MANOR (SNAPE HOUSEHOLD)- MASTER BEDROOM

🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶

Elizabeth tosses and turns in her bed. She's fast asleep and if Severus were awake, he would see that she was tense, sweat in her brow, her forehead scrunched as she dreamt. 

One might not understand why it was a scary dream, because it wasn't. She was sitting in her seat at the Triwizard Tournament, the first task. She's standing up and cheering as Cedric transfigures the rock into a dog, the dragon taking interest. 

Ginny is sitting next to her, but she looks different than Elizabeth remembers. Her vibrant red hair is matted and sticky, liquid dripping off of her strands and onto the floor as though she'd just gotten out of the shower. 

Ginny is also on her feet, but her cheers are more like screams and when she turns to look at Elizabeth, her eyes are pure white. Elizabeth turns away to look at where she knows Severus is sitting. Is he seeing this? 

But the Professors sit still as statues and though Severus should've turned to look at her, he doesn't. His body shudders just slightly, like he's teetering back and forth. 

The cheers are rising louder than her body can physically handle and she clamps her hands over her ears, muffling it just a little bit. She isn't sure why they're cheering, because Cedric isn't standing anymore. 

He's lying on the ground in front of the dragon, which has also laid down, its tail curled protectively around the eggs. Cedric is still, eagle-spread with wide eyes. Elizabeth stands up, surveying the crowd in horror. 

Cedric is obviously dead. Why isn't anyone doing anything? 

She lowers her hands from her ears and notices that its deadly quiet. To quiet for such a large crowd. She looks around, noticing that they're all looking at her. All of their eyes are white and Elizabeth wishes that she could run, escape. 

She looks down at Ginny in panic but her friend is gone, a mindless drone like all of the others around her. Red puddles have formed at her feet, making Elizabeth realize that the liquid that had been dripping in her hair was blood. 

"Use the time turner." Ginny whispered. "Save him." 

"No." Elizabeth whispered, turning her back on the Weasley girl. Severus stood there, his neck and chest punctured with snake bites. He had a hand over his neck, trying to stop the blood that was seeping out. 

"Severus." She gasped, reeling back. 

Outside of the dream, Severus stirs a little, swearing he heard someone call his name, but there is nothing else and he slowly drifts back into unconsciousness. 

"Use the time turner." Severus whispered, before falling over dead. 

"You could save us all." Elizabeth spins again to see Sirius standing there, before he falls backwards, almost floating above the ground. 

"Stop." Elizabeth whispered, backing up now, though she knows she has no where to go. 

"Save us." She flinches away from Colin as he struggles to crawl up the bleacher stairs, his legs are missing. 

"Save us. Save us. Save us." The chants come as the people start to press forwards, each one dropping dead completely before they can get close enough to touch her. 

A hand swipes at her and her time-turner comes up from under her shirt, floating in midair. 

"Save us." It's Cedric, kneeling before her with half of his face decayed. His hand reaches out, grabbing the time-turner. 

"Let me go." Elizabeth whimpered. 

Cedric grinned, his tournament clothes turning into Durmstrang robes "Tik Tok, times running out." 

"Let me go!" She demanded, grabbing the chain of her time-turner, pulling back. 

"Mommy?" 

Somehow, she is able to spin again, to see a five year old Marinette standing there. Despite not having her cat at that age, a baby Snowball is in her arms anyways. She stands in a green dress that Elizabeth had picked out for her at Christmas time, complete with white stockings and black school shoes. Her curly black hair is short, pulled back with a red headband. 

Her eyes are wrong. They're purely black. 

Albus and Scorpius step out from behind her to stand on either side of her. Despite having been hidden before, they tower over her at their current height. They're wearing Durmstrang robes strangely and when Albus touches Marinettes' shoulder, her attire changes to the wrong schools robe too. 

"Stop. What are you doing to her Albus?" Elizabeth demanded, fists clenching. 

"Sorry Auntie. But we're changing what you wouldn't." Albus said and then raised his wand, "Avada Keda-" 

Elizbeth sat bolt upright in bed with a scream. Severus jerked next to her, grabbing his wand and sitting up. 

Elizabeth threw the covers off of her, leaving the bedroom immediately, still gasping for breath. She could hear Severus get out of bed to follow her. 

She doesn't know how to cope, what to do as she heads into the kitchen. She yanked the freezer open, grabbing the ice-cream carton like that's going to help and pads back into the living room. Severus nearly runs her over in his rush to get to her, watching as she sits on the couch, curling up in a ball while eating her ice-cream. 

"It was a bad one?" He asked softly, sitting on the chair to look at her. 

"I think it was the worst one I have ever had." She sniffed, spooning more ice-cream into her mouth. The sweet vanilla laced with chocolate chips and oreo chunks soothes her. It had always been her comfort food and it was working now as well. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked gently but she just shook her head violently. "Okay darling." He got up so that he could sit on the couch with her, squeezing her leg. "I'll probably fall asleep here, but if you need me, just tell me." 

"Thank you Sev." She whispered softly, almost managing a smile, but it died quickly as she remembered the horrors of her dream. She wished they would fade, like all of her other dreams did when she woke up, but this one was to vivid. Her hands were still shaking as they clenched the ice-cream carton tighter. 

Severus did indeed end up falling asleep, soft snores coming from him, his head at a rough angle against the couch arm. 

"You're to good for me." Elizabeth mumbled to herself, looking at how uncomfortable he was. She set the ice-cream aside and went to move him when she froze. 

It was a vision of Albus and Scorpius, standing in the Forbidden Forest. In their hands was a time-turner and suddenly, everything made sense. 

"Severus!" She roughly shook him awake, her heart pounding again in her chest. The dream, the vision, it was all coming together. "Severus!" He jolted awake, catching her by the arm. 

"What? What's wrong?" 

"I know where they are. Come on, we don't have any time to waste! They're going to destroy us Severus, we need to hurry!" 

"What?" Severus asked, stumbling to his feet as she grabbed their wands, pulling him outside. "Who? What's going to destroy us?" 

"The kids. Albus, Scorpius, Marinette, they're going to kill us." Elizabeth said, seeing it happen in her mind. 

"How?" Severus asked, more alert now as he grasped his wand tightly in his hand. 

She looked up at him fearfully. "They're going to erase us out of time." 

[sharkinlovewithadolphin]

top 5 rinharu fics? ❤️💙

Thank you!! &lt;3 put “top 5” anything in my ask and i will answer Okay so here’s a shameful fact about me: I rarely read rinharu fanfics anymore. This is not because I don’t want to or that there’s not any good ones I haven’t read already out there (there is!! so many!!), but I simply don’t have time to read that much fanfiction in general anymore. :/ If I have time for fanfiction, I either write or read through my own WIPs. I try my best to read other people’s RH fics, not just for the pleasure of reading, but also to engage with other writers and write comments for them, and discover and appreciate other ways of writing the characters, but there's only so much time in a day. ;-; That being said, I also never really kept tabs on the fics I used to read/still read. I never wrote them down or saved them in any way, not even with an ao3 bookmark (i regret this so much), and so it would require extensive amount of time to go through my giant ao3 history to try to rank them properly. However! I do want to answer this ask with some recs (that aren't my own fics lol) in some way, so here goes the ones that sticks out the most in my current memory: 1) Family (3577 words) by NamelessPastel. An absolutely adorable fic in which Rin is babysitting his cousin and Haru comes around and ends up helping him. 2) Chicken Scratch (Ongoing, 88.754 words) by MatsuokasPonytail (@matsuokas-ponytail). Lovely and captivating fic with gardener!Rin and rich kid!Haru. It was wild to follow from its origin in @tomakehimfree's wonderful and sexy art and all the anons in her askbox, to the fic's first chapter and all the exciting chapter updates that followed. Sadly it’s on hiatus (and likely stays that way), but 1) what's there is still 100% worth reading! 2) I still naively hope to get that new chapter mail notification any day now lol. You can read all the individual chapters here on tumblr too. 3) The Long Engagement (25/25 chapters, 175,128 words) by RubyEliz. It's an arranged marriage fic with tons of angst and miscommunication that'll have you at the edge of your seat, then leave you with a warm little hug of a happy ending. This is the last longfic I've read of RH. It grabbed a hold of my attention SO hard and made me pull an all-nighter just to finish it. I couldn't put it down at all. 4) AO3@Misila (@misila / @nenufair) has written SO many RH fics, way more than I’ll ever get the chance to read (i think. Might dare myself one day jkfdk). She writes extremely well, so I can recommend checking her extensive list of works out! She definitely has at least one fic for any rinharu shipper’s taste. 5) I own physical copies of the fanfics Inked (tattoo artist x biker au), Dinner For One (angst with a happy ending) and Fluid Like Water (Olympic setting) by AO3@ellerean/@ellereanwrites (formerly tumblr@letsswimtogethernanase. I love them all a lot. The fanfics were the first RH "fan-made" merch pieces I ever bought (I think?), so they mean a lot to me and I feel privileged that I can have them displayed on my RH alter. <3

[adamwatchesmovies]

Evil Dead Rise (2023)

Don’t let the semi-comical (though extremely gruesome) pre-title sequence fool ya; Evil Dead Rise is not a horror-comedy. I can’t vouch for the Ash vs. Evil Dead television series, but 2013’s Evil Dead wasn’t funny either. Not even darkly funny. This franchise now has two modes: splatsick horror and visceral, unsettling terror. While you may not gasp in fright often, what happens in this film is so no-holds-barred that thinking back at it, I shudder.

After learning that she’s pregnant, guitar technician Beth (Lily Sullivan) visits her sister Ellie (Alyssa Sutherland), nephew Danny (Morgan Davies) and nieces Bridget (Gabrielle Echols) & Kassie (Nell Fisher). Then, an earthquake hits Los Angeles and causes a concealed chamber in their building’s basement parking lot to open. Inside, Danny finds a copy of the Necronomicon, as well as recordings of its passages. Once played, the incantations summon the demonic Deadites.

The main cast consists of two adults and three children. I figured the main cast would be "spared" (except for psychological trauma or minor injury) while everyone else in the building would get possessed by the evil magic of the Naturom Demonto. I was wrong. Writer/director Lee Cronin gleefully tears his characters apart, leaving piles of red goo and severed limbs all over the place. What’s particularly unnerving is that you have no idea how our heroes will make it out alive. Deadites are not zombies. Shooting them in the head only puts them down for a few minutes. Once they get back up, Deadites can use weapons, may wield supernatural powers (beyond rising from the dead) and they can talk. More than talk, they can strategize, deceive and taunt. That’s particularly relevant because Deadites are nasty. Not just physically; they don’t play fair. You keep expecting this to be like a possession movie, where you can exorcise the demons out of people and bring them back to normal, but that’s not happening.

The word to describe Evil Dead Rise is “deranged”. When you see the ways people and monsters get stabbed, shot, dismembered, shredded, grated, torn apart, impaled, mangled and mutilated, you wonder what sort of person dreamt up this nightmare scenario. I knew I was in store for something traumatic when the rental screen gave me chills - remember, it's just a still image. In action, it’ll have squeamish viewers running for the hills. In a way, I think the makeup and special effects artists might have overdone it. It’s not that they’re excessive, it’s that most people will be wincing and covering their eyes so much that if the visuals had been half as good, no one would notice. Try your best to keep your eyes open, however, there are some great monsters in this movie.

This fifth, standalone entry in the series pours on the viscera but it also takes the time to craft likable characters. This means you’re equally excited and nervous when the madness starts. Yes, Danny is warned by his sister not to touch the evil-looking book but he grabs it anyway because it looks fancy and most importantly, expensive. He thinks selling it might bring the family some much-needed cash. The relationship between several of the family members may be strained but you can tell much of the tension comes from the unfortunate circumstances that have been piling on top of their shoulders in recent months. Sometimes, our heroes do make mistakes that make their situation worse but more often than not, they’re making smart choices and in their defense, no one could ever be prepared to handle the torrent of hellfire unleashed upon them. Things are not completely hopeless, but it’s not looking good. 

The only major flaw in Evil Dead Rise is the opening scene. Firstly, because it means everything is told in flashback. Being shown that more goes on after the events inside the high-rise end feels unfair. Even if the entire family makes it out alive, it’s rather bleak to know they weren’t able to contain the evil and that it “lives” on. The second reason to criticize the opening scene is for its tone, which doesn’t match the rest of the movie. I wonder if it was made intentionally more splatsticky so that the die-hard fans of Evil Dead 1-3 would give this film a chance. There is something to be said about catering to your audience’s expectations, but it's inconsistent.

Evil Dead Rise is a frightening, unrelenting deluge of horror and gore that keeps you guessing, shows you something new, and gives you something to remember all while forcing its likable protagonists through the wringer. There aren’t any big names among the cast but I wouldn’t be surprised to see more than one make it big in the future. I was impressed. (June 14, 2024)

[dojae-huh]

I just saw the announcement about the vinyl too and I'm so frustrated that it sold out this quickly. I've been cratedigging and record-collecting for a decade, so I was heartbroken, lol. Luckily I was able to find a Korean reseller on eBay. I suspect you're correct, though. I highly doubt most of them even have record players. They'll likely view this release as a novelty and nothing more. Which is the biggest shame because sitting down for an hour or so and devoting your full attention to a record, disgesting all of the little intricacies that you can't hear on streaming platforms (because the quality is trash), is such a rewarding action. It allows you to slow down and experience music in an entirely different way that I don't think many young people in general are used to because:

1) They didn't grow up with mp3 players as their only means of listening to portable music (mp3 players forced you to experience music in the same way I described above because mp3 files are high quality with little data loss, and there was nothing to distract you from the music because it was directly inside of your ears)

2) Spotify encourages listeners to treat music as background noise and not something that should be properly engaged with

Jaehyun is all too familiar with this process because he's also a record-collector, and I'm sure he views this release as a gift to fans in that way -- one that will unfortunately mostly fall on deaf ears

On one hand, I'm glad LPs sold out quickly. This way SM will know there is a demand and might print more.

On the other hand, it's a pity that many of the fans who will really appreaciate the format couldn't get themselves a copy, while re-sellers and merch collectors - could.

I saw news that in US LPs sell as much as CDs. Hopefully, LP-recorders will kick off in SK. And if Jae or other SM artists continue to release vinyls, fans will buy themselves LP players.

About mp3s. Is it really the format quality fault? I regularly see articles that say Spotify and i-tunes offer good quality, and those who say the sound is bad imagine things. (Not to mention, Korean physical albums are sold with CDs containing mp3s).

I'd think the bigger problem is earphones (as most listen to music from a smartphone with cheap earbuds) and producers evening out the volume of songs and trying to make each second of a track attention grabbing.

To be honest, your comment about mp3 forcing to sit down and listen surprised me. Nothings has changed for me. I was listening to CDs the same way I listen to music on streaming platforms. Mostly on a computer or during travel hours, mostly as a background music, heh. A musical centre with columns on different sides of the room what really made the difference, I think. *sighs* still don't have one to myself...

By the way, just yesterday learnt that SMmini's sound quality is better and you can switch off the voices and listen to instrumentals of any b-side. So there is actually an additional value to those weird breloques, heh.

I'm of an opinion that the consumer is not at fault when it comes to music taste. Music producers and educators are. The way a person needs to learn how to read and comprehend a long text, the same way he/she needs to learn how to process audial information. If a child listens to jazz and is taken to classical concerts by the parent, he/she will grow up knowing how to appreciate it. And the quality of music on itself. Take Raye. She sings about break ups, drugs and hangovers, however, the "lowly" theme is put on top of good instrumentals and paired with her strong vocal delivery. And she went viral, in this age and time. Thanks to streaming platforms, as far as I know.

Same with SM and Jaehyunie. His "J" is in the old r'n'b style. And his fans eat it up. SM Classics uses the popularity of its k-pop singles, like Supernova or Boom Boom Bass, to lure young people to listen to jazz or classical renditions.

A commoner will eat both a cheap cake and a high quality one, there is sugar inside both of them to trigger the brain. It's up to the cook whether he is a true artisian and uses real vanilla and cacao butter or a money hungry fraud who puts in artificial ingridients.

Anyway! Back to LPs. Considering CDs exist, the modern day attraction of the vinyl is the tactile sense and mood setting experience. Like a paper book vs e-reader difference. Taking out an LP out of the cover, carefully setting it on the recorder, cleaning dust off the needle, that rustle sound of the empty space before the needle hits the track, turning the record - the effort and the whole procedure that makes one slow down and concentrate on the music. And the sound is warmer, of course.

[lolipoptheclown]

Random info about Castor cause I'm bored and I'm still working on his backstory (procrastinating moment)

Quick doodles to get your attention

Okay here is the actual info:

So if you haven't seen his reference pictures and it wasn't obvious already Castor is not human. Haven't really decided what he actually is, I guess he's just like his own species or something.

He genuinely tries to be nice but he kinda freaks people out. Stopped trying to make friends a while ago (except Bob). Now he scares campers in the woods for shits and giggles.

There are a few features about him that make it obvious that he's not human. He has an abnormal amount of teeth, his smile is unnaturally wide, his eyes are permanently stuck with a crazy look, etc. He can also dilate his eyes to see better in the dark, like a cat.

And one more thing, the most obvious, the fact that he can literally change his physical appearance. Almost forgot to mention that. He can grow fangs and claws, as well as becoming a few feet taller. His eyes also turn black, and his pupils give off a dim white glow.

Sometimes he changes unwillingly though. If he is under too much stress (he's always under stress but like if it gets worse yk) he might change on accident. When it's caused by stress, he will act like he's possessed or something, and um:

(thanks to my friend for editing that paragraph to sound better:3)

Cringe culture is dead, he can be as edgy as he wants

A n y w a y s

Castor, like I said, is under constant stress. Never able to be completely calm, even while he's asleep. He has frequent nightmares, which usually causes the stress-transformation to happen. He is only able to calm down slightly when he is with Bob, his best friend. But he is still on edge even then.

Castor cares a lot about Skid and Pump, who are the only people to never show him fear. I have mentioned this in posts about him before, but Bob would probably have died by Castor's hands, instead of the car and gun, if he found out he tried to hurt them.

Castor has seen my oc Helen before, but he is a bit afraid of her. He tried to scare her by grabbing her shoulders from behind, but pulled away instantly from how cold she was. She then 'disappeared' to escape Castor, leaving him in shock as he tried to process what just happened.

He wants to be friends with my ocs Michelle and Carolynn, but he has god awful social skills. They don't even know who he is.

I have mentioned this before, but randomly throughout the day Castor will just start sobbing uncontrollably. He will never admit why, but it's because he started thinking about the people he accidentally killed. Bob attempts to comfort him, but assumes he's doing a bad job. Castor is just happy that he's there, though, which calms him down.

Castor cannot cook for the life of him. A good example of his cooking skills is that one "SANS HOW THE FUCK DID YOU BURN THE WATER??" thing.

He will bite people that touch him when he's stressed to a certain point, like right below the line before he accidentally changes. He doesn't mean to, it's just a natural reaction for him. When he accidentally hurts people, it makes the stress worse, which isn't very good.

He smiles a lot, despite being constantly scared for no reason. It's mostly because he tends to copy the people around him, and Bob and Carolynn smile a lot too.

Insomnia. That's all I have to say for this part.

Doesn't know that Michelle and Carolynn hate Bob.

I'm running out of things to talk about, so goodbye. Thanks for reading this if you actually reached the end LMAO