#So Many Riches and Nowhere To Spend It ;; AESTHETIC

[zahri-melitor]

Newish Comics:

Batman: the Brave and the Bold #13: God I so want to enjoy the Nightwing and Deadman story (because Dick and Boston hanging out, given their shared backgrounds, is exactly my jam) but unfortunately this is written by Tim Seeley and while there's stuff in it I quite enjoyed it still had the problem where it was full of Seeleyness. You don't need to repeat that Dick is a carny, a traveller, a circus kid so many times, Seeley. We got your point. (Also why are you travelling on a goods train, presumably without paying for the tickets? Is this inherently important to either of you? Dick has a fortune right now and Boston's fine with spending other people's money especially if they're rich or crooks).

The Booster Gold and the Jurassic League story hmmm feels too invested in how outsiders see Booster, rather than Michael's personal competence. Not that that's unusual for a Booster story but it's disappointing. Mark Russell, given your other work I was expecting a slightly defter hand with this, but it's only the opening part of the story.

The Artemis story remains so good. That's all I have to say.

The Bruce and Guy Gardner story has interestingly stylised art (I can tell some people are going to instantly hate it) but I had to laugh at the goofy ears Bruce has on his helmet. Commitment to the aesthetic! (Also lol Roswell and Grey Aliens)

The Perpwalk: oh look it's commentary on killing Joker and why that's bad. It feels very pop psychology.

The Flash #9: I mostly loved this. Wally's continuing to lose it, Jai's still getting the main plot out of twins (which is a nice change as the balance was definitely over on Irey's side during Adams), Barry is also having a breakdown (but different), Hartley gets a quality win, and we are confirmed to be on round two of time travelling Wade (seriously Wade has appeared on more pages, aged up, than he has as a baby so far).

The Wally and Dick stuff is just really...you know how Wally's connection to the Titans saved Donna? And the Titans connection to Wally saved him? And now Dick's helping anchor Wally even as he's trying to drop all of his connections? Ugh it's so good, Dick Grayson will not give up on his best friends.

The bit which really made me sigh was that finally, we got confirmation that Linda has post-partum depression (which has been obvious the last 9 issues), and...it's been aggravated by the Rogues. Deliberately. Ugh. Which is exhausting, but the panels suggested that it was actually based on Linda having existing problems (which made perfect sense, given that among other things, she'd just been sharing the Speed Force with Wade until she lost the connection when he was born. Of COURSE her neurotransmitters and hormones were even more out of whack than your average person after giving birth). But then when Hartley removed the influence from Linda, she suddenly perks up in an 'all fixed!' manner, as if that was all that was needed. And I really really hope it wasn't that simple. (Like, even if you give me a panel when this storyline ends that has Linda telling Wally she's seeing a counselor).

I would, actually, like the comic to have a little bit of a discussion of PPD, rather than just fix it magically via supervillain nonsense ending. Because Linda has lots of basis to have developed it. And she's just had to hand over her baby to stay safe in another crisis situation. It just makes so much sense and could lead to some more interesting storytelling and I just want it to be acknowledged as a real issue, not 'waves wand, all better'.

Green Arrow #12: the hugs edition.

Look. For a story arc that's premise was 'let's get all of the associated Arrow characters out of the various separate ruts (or editorial jail) that they've been in and reunite them on page', with a framing story for why everyone's wheels have been spinning and going nowhere for anywhere up to the last 14 years? It achieved that. It also got almost everyone into a costume that didn't make my eyes burn and am happy having as their default design for a while (Cissie I'm so sorry, yours is not great).

It set everything up for a continuing run and I'm glad that it has been signed off as a continuing and due to Williamson being heavy handed with allowing Waller nonsense in this plot it's going to run through Absolute Power and presumably be able to pick up with some actual ordinary Green Arrow plots.

I just want Williamson to pick up the pace a bit, and give us some one shots and three issue stories once we get back from Absolute Power to justify pulling this huge cast together by using them as more than set dressing for Ollie having a midlife crisis realisation.

The Warlord #54: Travis has a minor breakdown because Ashiya is using the form of his dead wife, Rachel, then realises he's being duped.

Shakira pushes Tara out of danger, proving that despite everything, they don't actually hate each other.

Jennifer is now a super powerful witch who has outpaced Ashiya's teachings and they have a cool sorcery battle:

And we finish off with Travis heading back to Shamballah with Tara and Jennifer staying in the castle to learn more magic (after defeating Ashiya).

[finsterhund]

Listen if I was in the Skinamarink house I'd just infodump about Mayhem Mountain constantly while playing HoD or whatever the fuck. rip to Kevin and whatever his sister's name was but I'm different.

I literally spend my life thirsting after wanting to own "big old spooky old house with analog media and toys and shit everywhere with no parents" this is the fucking experience here. (Okay maybe I also want parental figures too but I need to be at least somewhat realistic. I'm not ever getting that. But if this stupid housing industry crashes and burns I can get a house someday. I fucking want a house. I would kill to get a house. Etc.)

Every time I hear about people abandoning houses and not wanting to live in haunted houses I'm like "you stupid assholes are rich enough to be picky about a fucking house you own. Give it to me you fuckers I will eat a demon and fistfight a ghost and the only thing haunting it will be me and my demonic little boy taken by the consumption ass vibes." (Please don't mention that I'm scared of New England the east coast is cursed and evil also if we're being honest if I got a cool carpenter gothic or whatever the fuck house for free there I would bite the bullet and go there because you know what fuck it free house. Worst case scenario I find a way to straight up take the house somewhere else.)

There are so many houses left to rot by my grandparents house. That's a thing there. It's been a thing for a hundred years or so and it pisses me off. The beloved town my cousins used to live where I visited like once and never wanted to fucking leave and it had a little swimming pool is almost a ghost town now. Apparently they lost their grain elevator in a fire and I don't even know if that rumor is true or not but I legit fucking had a weeping fit about that somewhere last week idk my brain was soup and all I remember from then was that I ground my jaw so bad it locked up. There's so many fucking houses abandoned in the plains. I would live in all those houses. Give me the fucking houses. I will live in a fucking grain elevator that was turned into a house. Fuck you.

Everyone always bitches about being in the middle of nowhere but if there's fucking electricity and plumbing and internet (yeah there is now. Suck on that assholes) and roads what's the fucking problem you big fucking baby. Getting a driver's license is probably possible for me in that province because nobody gives a shit. If I fucking own a house and fucking land I don't give a fuck if I have to drive to get to stores and shit I have a fucking attention span and patience when I fucking want to. Asshole. Also pretty sure people can have small private planes and fly them there. You certainly have enough space for takeoff and landing. Can you fucking imagine even having small paraglider personal flying devices and shit you could do that there.

There's shit called paramotors please look at this fucking shit please look at it. I could have this. Fuck you.

https://youtu.be/rvQ9DjJNal0

I am fucking screaming in emotional anguish agony pain. This is for me. This is what my life should be. In a house. Windows XP wallpaper ass land. Paramotor trips into idk swiftcurrent or whatever. Fuck you fuck you fuck you. Screaming crying throwing up. It's not fair.

Apparently Canada treats paramotor like ultralight aircraft need permit and stuff but there's a guy who's been doing just fine without one. Fuck the government.

Want paramotor so bad. Screaming crying throwing up.

Anyways yeah. So mad. So sad. Miserable.

It's perfect in every fucking way. My fucking body craves the steppe. Did you know why I fucking ended up always loving the goddamn windows XP desktop background Naboo ass aesthetic? It's because it's literally my fucking blood I was fucking born for there. I'm literally fucking homesick I want to fucking cry. It literally fucking looks like that there. I am screaming. If my fucking mother didn't fucking take me back from my grandparents. I am going to fucking scream. (I would have never experienced the CSA from my birth father either) am going to fucking commit die.

I have manic obsessions over the extended family houses I barely fucking remember from childhood visits. Hell, even the Spot house. And that was a place with my stupid fucking birth father in the stupid fucking childhood costal city.

I would take the Spot house and move it to the steppe. Most of the houses in the near ghost town my cousins used to live look like the Spot house. Screaming.

I am filled with the utmost of hatred and grief and wrath. I do not resent my mother more for this because she was taken advantage of by that fucking demon too and I know every day she regrets leaving her parents too. But she doesn't fucking want to go back she loves that shitty fucking place she's in now I just don't understand that. She's like the people who left the houses. She thinks winter is cold. I don't understand.

You have no idea how much I want a fucking house and my preference is literally 1900s-1970s construction. So shut the fuck about things being old and outdated I literally fucking want that. Bitch give it to me. I am no longer asking. 🗡️🗡️🗡️ I will put the knife in your eye

I found a scary story the other day where a guy got an old magic key that when he opened his closet with it the closet lead to some cool old hidden secret castle room or whatever the fuck with a bunch of neat antique shit and instead of living there he fucking plundered it all like a stupid little bitch. I was so mad. This also ended up getting his ass because he kept finding doors and doors to do this to just to steal all the cool shit just to sell it and eventually he let out a monster because he was such a stupid little moron.

Am I rambling? Yeah but I don't care. I'm actually conscious and awake and functional right now. It's not even noon yet and I've taken all my meds. I am actually awake and not tired right now for some fucking reason and of course immediately the mania starts.

I am just explosive right now. Oh my god. You know I'm so apathetic and tired and exhausted and have no drive or energy or anything anymore but I have so fuckibg much for my goddamn house quest my fucking dream.

Could make my own grassland city state. Landback sovereign citizen shit. Get army of friends to all bring back the almost dead town and it's ours now and we rebuild the grain elevator and reopen the pool and shit.

This is my dream and what I want. I want to achieve it through violence.

(if I'm being completely honest if I got all this I don't even think I'd NEED there to be internet at that point. Everyone always brings up internet but so much of the internet for me is a surrogate for one thing or another.) If I could have my friends with me I would not need to use the internet to be with them for example.

I apologize if I appear to be crazy (I actually am lol and sometimes I get really fucking tired of presenting myself in respectable coherent ways. I tire of masking for the benefit and comfort of others. Of hiding my mental illnesses at every turn because of you domestics thinking that anything short of tame subservience is dangerous and that aggression and violence are unbecoming of the human nature. When in reality it is us with "dangerous" mental disabilities who are the primary victims of violence and harm for being the way we are.) but I really can't fucking take this anymore. I am a member of a species meant to live off the land and wander and have big space to call your own and exist within the natural world and not live in a tiny little box. Life in captivity has both made me weak and pitiful and violently explosive wanting to be reborn as I was meant to be. I'm at that point where you know what? I can import my medicine in bulk. I can have it delivered to me. If I can't then I fucking should. And if I need a hospital but do not make it in time then this is nature. I should not be scared I should not live in captivity because of death because of disability because captivity is worse than a natural death. I am sick of living as a domesticated shell of how I should be.

I fear change. I fear it so badly. But I have been tricked into fearing the small changes when in reality I need to learn that what is truly harming me is that gradual change that put me into this environment. It is scary to move and to leave behind these places like where I live now and the things that have become routine but that is not the big picture. This is the comfort of domestication and is a trick. It is my attachment to the tiny little white room where I live even though with time I would not miss it in comparison to the love in my heart for the new life of the big house. The uncertainty of change is clouding the judgement and I am a fucking coward.

I fear rejection from the domestics and their stupid world even though I resent it. This is a survival instinct warped by trauma. To mask and roll over and submit for fear of being hit. To play nice so that they do not take my tiny white room because it is all I have. Because they have made it so. My safety in this environment is dependant on them. When it shouldn't be. This is in a way a form of grooming that I have yet to overcome.

I do not know how to overcome it. I suppose acknowledging this is a first step.

Andy want house.

[we-are-indeed-villains]

Some things I wish I had known before getting sucked into the whole “dark academia” business:

I waited a very long time to start posting here because It just seemed necessary to wait a bit since DA exploded out of nowhere last year. I just couldn’t bring myself to write when I was so disgusted with the community. Now that it seems like we are out of fashion again (lol) I decided it could be worth giving this blog a try.

Also, almost everything I say here goes for pretty much any change in lifestyle, and these are just some general guidelines that I find particularly easy to follow, but do what works best for you!

1 - You DON’T have to spend all of your money to fit into this “aesthetic”.

The biggest problem with what is now called dark academia (but really, it has been a thing for such a long time) is that people put it in the same category as, for instance, VSCO girls or Indie (not that there is any problem with these aesthetics in specific, they are actually quite cute!). I know this sounds like rubbish, but DA really is a little bit more than that. The clothing/visual part of it may be important to some, but the way you choose to live your life and the hobbies you opt to engage with are crucial for everyone!

That being said, don’t spend a ridiculous amount of money on expensive linen shirts and fancy blazers. You don’t need a brand new pair of Oxfords or a 100% leather messenger bag to consider yourself DA. Start small, then make investments if you find it to be worth it. That brings us to our second point:

2 - Find your favourite aspect of the community.

I know it can be very overwhelming to adhere to any new style of living, but there are some easier ways to make a smoother transition (also, you don’t really want everyone to notice that you went from water to wine in one week, and then back to water after two more because you felt lost amidst all of those weird nerds you found on Tumblr, right?).

Begin with figuring out what part of the lifestyle you identify with the most. Is it the musical part? Classical dance? Are you into poetry? Books? History?

Once you have that done (I plan on doing posts on all of those topics and more, so stay tuned!), narrow it down until you find the very core of your interest. For example, I absolutely love literature, but what do I love about it? Is it the writing part? The reading part? Both? Do I have a favourite style? If the answer for the previous question is ‘no’, try to find one! There are so many amazing styles and eras to explore!

After determining what is/are your main interests, make sure to find time to fit them into your life. Buy more books, if possible. There are also public libraries with a great variety of literature to choose from! If you already do that, I encourage you to try getting out of your comfort zone and attempting something new. Why not experiment reading a different style of books? Or maybe getting into the more poetic part of literature?

3 - Get into it!

Have you found your main interest? Great! Now it may be time to actually get into the fashion aspect of the whole thing. Also, remember that, although it is not a requirement per say, being academically successful is something you may want to achieve, so put some effort into that as well.

I won’t get too much into the fashion rabbithole, but I may write something about it later. In the meantime, you can definitely find some great guides on different DA related blogs.

4 - Don’t adhere to all the negative habits that DA romanticizes.

We all know that mental illness and self destructive behaviors are heavily romanticised, and I will say this from the bottom of my heart: DO NOT LET YOUR MENTAL HEALTH SLIP BECAUSE OF SOME 15 YEAR OLD ON TUMBLR! Trust me, it is NOT worth it.

Cigarettes, alcohol, coffee, all-nighters, heavier drugs. All of that may seem cool and edgy from the outside (why people think that, I could not tell you), but it can also defeat the main purpose of DA and, even worse, ruin your physical and mental health for good. How are you going to stay ahead in school and go to Oxford if you are too busy partying and snorting coke? You will get a sore nose and a big hole in your pocket, that’s all.

Nihilism is another one. Note that I said “nihilism”, not "existentialism" (more on that coming in the future). If you enjoy pondering the reason for human existence and you question the religious beliefs that control our society, welcome to the club! But please, please, don’t let that get too much in your head. Existential depression is a very painful and difficult thing to deal with. It will take away any joy you may find and it is not in any way productive. If you have it, you will know what I mean. Thinking about it sometimes, writing poems, debating with friends, that’s all good, even encouraged, but don’t let it go to your head and become a problem. Not worth it.

Some extra things I would like to mention:

1 - Don’t force yourself into doing or enjoying anything. Sure, reading is good, but if it isn’t enjoyable there is no reason to become obsessed with it! DA should not be a burden.

2 - Stay away from the eurocentric ideals that come with the community. Racism is bad even if you want to live in the 1800s. There is simply no excuse to think that European culture is richer or more refined than any other. Remember that the only reason you think that is because some rich, old, white men decided to murder and opress millions of different people for pure egoism. Not really something to be proud of.

Also, if you are thinking “Yeah, whatever, but English culture is a lot nicer than Mexican, or Indian culture”, then you should probably reevaluate the reasons for your interest in DA.

3 - Don’t be mean to people just because you think it fits with your all-new pretentious and arrogant character. I don’t care if you want to be perceived as such, but it can be very bad in the long-run. Just be aware of that.

And most importantly, don’t let DA take away your personality! It’s okay to like video games and read gossip magazines every once in a while. It is also okay to be yourself. You don’t have to (and probably shouldn't) get rid of all the qualities that make you unique (yes, this is a cliche, but there is a reason why people say it all the time). Be silly, say dumb things and play minecraft with your friends all night, for godsakes!

“This above all: to thine own self be true,

And it must follow, as the night the day,

Thou canst not then be false to any man.”

(Hamlet - Polonius, act 1 scene 3)

-- Shakespeare, William

Memento Mori, dear villains.

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

Serva me, Servabo te

save me and I will save you

pairing: photographer!Taehyung x f.reader (oc)

more characters: Jimin x Yoonji

genre: angst, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

word count: 4.6k   |  reading time: 25 min

summary: Somehow you end up having to share a Victorian Manor (that may or may not be haunted) with a person you really dislike: Kim Taehyung

warnings: nothing specific in this chapter, some swearing and toxic traits

A/N: Amy= Army= reader:)

All chapters | Masterlist   |  Read on AO3

Chapter 1: The tragic state of affairs

An hour and a half long car drive and you still managed to be in the middle of nowhere. You could almost swear the dirt road was leading to nothing, but the occasional sign swore otherwise. You sighed. How had you gotten yourself into this, again? Oh, yeah.

-9:34 pm, the day before-

A loud thud followed by an inhuman growl produced from the deepest pits of hell reached your ears in the kitchen. I guess you couldn't ignore her any longer. You leaned past the door,  peeping at your roommate cocooning on the floor.

"Uh... You good?" She immediately started mumbling with fiery passion and you couldn't understand a single word. That meant no. "What did Jimin do this time?"

Yoonji sat up, turning her spine abnormally to look at you. "He's an idiot," you managed to hear.

You pressed your lips together and nodded. "Right. You guys broke up. Is he still bothering you, what is it?" You walked to her and squatted down to her level. You noticed her cheeks were bloody red and stained with tears, her mouth giving you a pout. But you were unbothered.

"He won't let me go tomorrow," she complained.

"The Manor you guys had booked?"

"Yeah!"

"Why won't he let you go?"

"No, I mean... He says I can go but he says he'll go too and I don't want to see him," Yoonji mumbled while wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

Your immediate thought was to tell her to just go since they were going to make up eventually anyway. Seriously, the two of them broke up and got back together like twice a week. Sometimes it looked more serious, sure, but you had fallen for it too many times to believe it now. You would only be sure the two of them were done for real when... Well, actually, never. "So, you don't want to lose your vacation but you want to have the whole house to yourself?" you asked and she nodded. "Well, since you both paid for this, I'm sorry to tell you, but he has just as much right to go as you. You should have thought about that before you broke up over- what was it again? Dumplings?" I mean, this had to be some type of kink or something at this point. They had to be into breaking up and chasing each other all the time. Maybe it was the make-up sex, who knows.

Finally, one of the road signs pointed to the right for a turn. 200 m it said. You breathed out in relief; you were starving and so sleep deprived, you feared you'd drive your car into a ditch by the road. In front of you stood a large gate with an astounding metal design. It was open and you carefully drove in. Your breath hitched the moment the house came into view. What house? That was a whole palace! With three floors, a garden bigger than the nearest park to your apartment, and about a million windows adorning its two wings. So caught up in the drama, you hadn't even had the chance to see a picture to prepare yourself for the beauty of the Victorian artifact. Your jaw on the floor, all you could do was laugh.

Say, how had you managed to get here again? Right, right...

-11:04 pm, the day before-

There was a soft knock on your bedroom door and you hummed in reply. Yoonji burst in with great contrast to her knocking, dashing for the foot of your bed and plopping herself on it with nerve. You paused your texting on your phone momentarily to turn your eyes on hers, noting her tears were all dried up now, a frown in their place.

"I told him I'm not going 'cause I don't wanna see his stupid face," she announced.

The corners of your mouth turned downwards. "Good for you. I'm sure the house isn't worth it, you can do your vacation elsewhere."

"But now he says he's not going..."

You thought about it for a second, then got back to your texting. "Great. Isn't that what you wanted? Now, you can go."

The girl leaned over your legs, trying to catch your attention again with wide eyes full of conspiracies. "But... What if he's bluffing?"

You paused again. Damnit, why was this even making sense? You'd say Jimin is not capable of doing something like that... if you actually thought it to be true. "So, don't go." You looked at her again to make sure your point was getting across. "Yoonji, don't go. That way no matter if he goes or not, you still won't see his stupid face."

A middle-aged woman dressed to fit right into the aesthetic of the Manor greeted you on the big steps of the entrance with something like the enthusiasm you only show your favorite aunt on Christmas. "You must be Ms. Min Yoonji," she called before you even had the chance to reach her.

"Must I?" you replied, immediately following it with a peal of fake laughter.

The woman chuckled and walked towards you. With a closer look, you noticed how youthful her face looked, and how undeniably pretty she was. Definitely looking like a noblewoman who would be in charge of something like this mansion. "Welcome, I'm Mrs. Kim. I'm glad you're here, your partner is already inside," she said.

Oh... So he was bluffing.

You smiled. "Thank you. The place looks stunning."

"Oh, I'm hoping you'll get to enjoy all of its beauty to the maximum this week you'll be spending here," the woman said as she guided you towards the entrance." Just to let you know, every room is at your disposal, the kitchen is fully equipped and with every kind of food you might crave. Housekeeping is daily and with a very discreet staff. I have already given a tour to your partner."

You pushed the heavy door open and walked in, immediately hugged by a heavy but warm atmosphere with a strong, musky scent. Right across from you, there was a big, double staircase with a magnificent chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. All you could do was look around with a stupid face. Jimin was getting Yoonji this type of vacation and she had the audacity to fight with him? How had they even afforded this? You totally understood why your roommate was throwing a tantrum wanting to come here. Why had she even let you come instead?

-12:56 am, the day before, or more accurately, this day but super early-

"Amy... Amy..." You were startled awake, barely making out the silhouette of Yoonji hovering above you in the darkness. "Were you sleeping?" she whispered.

You exhaled and pushed her away, groaning. "Yoonji, a piece of advice: if you have to shake someone for them to answer you, yeah, they were sleeping!"

"Sorry," she said but definitely didn't mean it. She scooted you over to sit next to you. "Hey, so... I was thinking. Maybe you should go."

Be it the sleep or your roommate speaking utter nonsense, all you could think was: "What?"

"Well, I don't wanna go in case Jimin goes, but I also don't wanna let him have the house to himself -you know, out of spite- so maybe you should go." Yoonji blinked at you expectingly but it was still too complicated for you to process. "I mean, you're gonna have a good time, Amy. The house is amazing, I promise, this is a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, okay? I thought if I let you go then we could also be even for the time you did that assignment for me and got me an A? What do you say?"

You frowned, starting to shake your head. "Yoonji-"

"Please, I just want you to annoy him by just being there, you know? Also, he might not even go. Then you'll have a whole Manor to yourself for a whole week! You can take your books with you and enjoy some time away from society, right? Pretty please..."

Your frown deepened, but you started to think about what she was saying. "You really would rather just give up your vacation to a Victorian Mansion or whatever it is to your roommate than let Jimin have it to himself?"

"Absolutely, yeah."

Well, you couldn't think of a reason to say no to that.

Mrs. Kim finished her welcoming speech with a smile. "In the library, you will find a map of the hiking routes of the forest. There is a mushroom picking one that I wholeheartedly recommend. Of course, anything you might need, you can always pick up our vintage phone -it works perfectly- and call us any time of the day and night."

You gave her a genuine grin and nodded. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Kim!" And after that, the beautiful woman opened the door and left. Where to, you had no idea, since you doubted there was any kind of civilization nearby.

You dragged your suitcase to the bottom of the staircase, about to lift it and go find one of the surely many rooms to occupy. But in the silence of it all, you noticed a fire cracking in the background. So silent, it felt like you and the fire were the only things alive for miles. Yet Jimin must have been roaming somewhere in this Manor.

Huh... He still hadn't shown up at the entrance to check if Yoonji had come? Surely, he must have heard the commotion made but you two ladies.

You released your grip on your suitcase and slowly walked towards the room the fire seemed to be coming from. You wanted to find him and enjoy his face when he would see you instead of his girl- well, ex-girlfriend. You passed through a small hallway, little rooms with cabinets and bookcases until you reached a slightly ampler room that had a lit fireplace. It looked like a sitting room, with a pair of scarlet, velvet armchairs and a matching sofa. There was a large, thick carpet that covered almost the entire floor, and an ebony coffee table in the middle. On the right, a window that expanded from floor to ceiling, but was however half-hidden behind a rich curtain.

You were about to go towards the fireplace before you noticed the slim man standing tall by that window. Looking outside, turned opposite to the entrance. You almost didn't notice him as the colors and textile of his outfit matched the room so well. His brown, a little wavy hair tucked messily behind his ears, light silver glasses sitting low on his nose, hands in his pockets. He was wearing a sweater vest over a beige shirt and baggy trousers and was standing like a model. Something very off about him that you didn't immediately recognize.

"Oh." The interjection left your lips without your command. And at the sound of your voice, he turned around to face you.

-10:46 am, this morning-

You had left your apartment more than a long time ago, Yoonji was expecting that you would have arrived by now and waiting for your news. Had Jimin gone too? How had he reacted? She tried calling you a couple of times but was only met with voicemail. Maybe you didn't have a good signal up in the mountains. Oh, no, how would you keep her up to date now?

Her cellphone buzzed and she rushed to see the message she assumed was from her roommate. It turned out to be her ex.

"You didn't go, then?"

Yoonji laughed. How wicked of her. He must have just seen you arrive at the Manor, instead of her. So he was lying about not going, just as Yoonji had predicted. She flipped her hair from her shoulder dramatically and quickly typed her reply.

"Of course not, I told you I wasn't going."

She couldn't stop giggling like a little girl.

"Cool... Just so you know, I felt bad wasting this already paid vacation, so..."

Yoonji rolled her eyes, still giggling.

"Let me guess. You went by yourself?" How pathetic... He really thought his little trick would work.

"No."

Wait, what?

"I myself didn't go..."

Yoonji blinked.

Come again?

Your eyes widened when you realized the man in front of you wasn't Jimin. The man in front of you was...

"Kim Taehyung? What are you doing here?"

He was about to open his mouth to reply when your phone interrupted you. Without taking your eyes off the man and with a deep frown on both of your faces, you took it out of your pocket and answered. Yoonji's voice started ringing immediately from the other end.

"Amy! Finally! I've been trying to call you for ages. Did you arrive yet? I wanted to tell you Jimin isn't coming. He said he let Tae go." You rolled your eyes. "Can you hear me, Amy? The signal is so bad... Amy, the idiot did the same thing I did and sent Taehyung! Remember Taehyung? Jimin's best friend?"

You sighed. "Yeah... Way ahead of you. He's standing right in front of me." Your eyes traveled down his arms as he moved to fold them over his chest, tilting his head at you.

Yoonji let out an exasperated cry. "Ugh, man! So he told the truth... Look, I'm so sorry I got you into this. Amy, can you hear me? I hope you have no problem with him there. I know you guys are not close- wait, have you guys met? You have, right? Okay, I know you're not close but it'll be fine, right? Just don't pay attention to him and do your thing, yeah darling? Act the same as if Jimin were there, or as if you were alone. Amy, that's fine, right? You can do that, right? How is the house, is it awesome and totally worth it and you're totally not mad at me for sending you there with Tae? Huh? Amy?"

You sighed again. The signal was indeed bad. So you just hung up, hoping your roommate would blame your rudeness on that. Hiding your phone away again, you eyed Taehyung from head to toe. He was still glaring at you as if you'd stolen something from him. Well, I guess if he thought he'd have this whole place to himself, it was kind of like stealing. But that was only because he just happened to arrive first. Both of you had the same claim over the place. Or, well, neither of you did.

"Right, so..." you started since he didn't seem to be reacting any further. "I guess we'll have to stay together."

Suddenly, Taehyung started moving. His eyes still piercing yours and not a word out of his mouth, just a steady charge towards you.

"I-I know you didn't expect me-" you felt the need to mumble quickly, "-but I didn't expect you either!" Taehyung stayed silent, getting closer. "Okay, maybe we lied!" you exclaimed, your feet stepping behind each other. "But you guys lied, too!" There wasn't any more room to move and the man was now right in front of you, leaning into your personal space. "Taehyung, what-"

"Who are you?"

You were caught off guard. "What?" You thought he was joking, but he stayed looking at you with a serious face. "What do you mean who am I?" you sounded offended. "We've met before!"

"Have we?"

"Couple of times!"

Taehyung scanned your entire face before he shook his head. "I don't remember you."

Now you were offended. "I'm Amy!" you announced loudly. "Yoonji's roommate."

At last, he pulled away, his mouth opening in understanding. "Oh... Right, I knew Yoonji had a roommate by that name." He moved farther away but turned his head to you again. "I don't think I've seen you before, though."

You rolled your eyes and slipped around him to escape the place you had been trapped in earlier. "Alcohol does that sometimes," you snorted at him.

Taehyung rubbed his chin, looking at you differently now. You tried to avoid his eyes, examining the room more closely instead. The paintings on the walls, the black encyclopedia on the shelves, the candelabra and tea set on the small table. Every detail was thought of inside the house. "Why are you here, though?" he asked.

"Same reason as you, I assume."

He licked his bottom lip in the act of releasing a small chuckle. "Did you owe a favor to your best friend, too?"

You took out one random book and browsed its thin, yellow pages. "Actually, she owed me."

Taehyung raised his eyebrows in response, then started occupying himself with the little things around the room, as well. "They're ridiculous, aren't they?" You hummed in agreement and put the book back, moving along. "Do you think they might be done for real now?"

"No way." You moved to the smaller window behind the sofa and pulled its curtains away to look at the view. A hill decorated by a dense forest. "Yoonji is over her phone 24/7 waiting for him to text her."

He chuckled again. "I know for a fact Jimin is not taking this seriously. He laughs every time she texts him."

"As he should! She's a drama queen."

"Thank you!" Taehyung called out as if he had been struggling with this for a long time. With two long strides, he appeared next to you and forced you to look into his eyes. "Jimin gets mad at me every time I say that, but she is, isn't she?"

You were a little taken aback by how eager he seemed to be to find this one thing in common between the two of you: having had enough of your friends' relationship. You nodded with an amused smile. "Extremely."

He shook his head, pushing his hair back with a hand. "I honestly don't get how they make it work. Aren't they tired?" He turned serious again and looked at you with big eyes. "I could never have something like that. When I like someone, I want it to be Titanic, not Mr. and Mrs. Smith."

It took you a few seconds to reply, a little lost in his intense stare. But you shrugged. "I kind of get it. It keeps it fun and interesting. They've been together for three years now and yet it's still not boring. Like, they confess their love to each other every other week."

But he insisted. "I wouldn't need all of that to remind my girl how much I love her."

This was getting a little uncomfortable. He was a little too close, and a little too serious. So you leaned back and maneuvered around him, walking towards the door. "Alright, you do your thing with your relationship, they can do theirs." You turned to look at him right at the same time he did. "So, we'll be staying here together, right? I hope that's okay."

Taehyung shrugged just one shoulder. "If it's fine with you," he almost whispered.

You nodded once. "Well, as long as there is not only one bed," you smiled at your joke but he just frowned. You guessed he didn't read fanfiction. You cleared your throat. "The house seems big enough for the two of us, I'm sure we could go about our separate vacations without getting in each other's way."

"Sure, if that's what you want."

You nodded again and pointed to the door. "Should we choose our rooms?"

He clicked his tongue and moved past you. "Sorry, I have already chosen the big chamber on the east wing since I didn't expect company. You might want to get a room on the west wing to avoid me more efficiently." Taehyung walked quickly down the corridor without waiting for you, or even checking if you were following. Not that you had to be following, obviously. You thought he sounded a little annoyed, but you couldn't think of a reason why. If it was you being there, he'd have to get used to it 'cause you weren't going anywhere.

"Cool," you simply replied and followed. The man appeared in your line of view again only after you got in the lobby. He was standing by the staircase, looking at your abandoned suitcase. "I got it," you said automatically, only realizing he hadn't offered to carry it after he looked at you weirdly. You cleared your throat awkwardly, needing to change the subject. "Do you know where the kitchen is? I'm thirsty."

He motioned towards the corridor opposite the one you had just come from. "Down the hall, there's a small one," he said and started jogging up the stairs with his hands in his pockets.

You exhaled the moment he was out of view again. Being around him took up more of your energy than you expected. Which wasn't ideal for a vacation. The whole situation, to be honest, being isolated with Kim Taehyung in an old, strange house, wasn't ideal. You wondered if he felt so put out by it as you did while you walked around the house to find the kitchen. Definitely, you thought. He didn't want to be there with you, it was certain. Not necessarily because he'd shown something like that up until then, but because you knew exactly the type of guy he was. I'll tell you one thing: it wasn't a coincidence that you had such close, common friends, yet barely knew each other.

The kitchen was bigger than your living room, yet it was characterized as small? A long counter stretched all along the wall on the left, with three windows over it that overlooked the garden. There was an island in the middle and cabinets around the rest of the space. A very pleasant room, bright and with light colors on the furniture that went well with the green that posed on the window panes like self-illuminated paintings.

You put your whole face under the faucet and swallowed the very cold -cold like it was just now coming from a nearby river- water. After cleaning your dripping face with your hands, you did a short inspection. The cabinets and the fridge were filled with all kinds of foods, Mrs. Kim was right. You guessed that should have been the case, considering there weren't any markets anywhere close. But that also meant you had to cook all of your food. You and Taehyung. What were you going to do? Cook different meals or share?

That was a future problem. Now, you had to find a room. You dragged your suitcase up the stairs making a little too much noise and turned to the west wing without hesitation. There were a few rooms to choose from; a double room with navy blue wallpaper, a smaller one with a balcony, a more princess-looking room with a small bed and a boudoir. You picked the next one. It had a canopy, queen-sized bed with thick, purple curtains that matched the ones on the big window across the door, and a wooden wardrobe that looked like it was taken from the set of Beauty and the Beast. There was a small fireplace too, although it was not lit, it was still decorated.

A big smile appeared on your face at the sight of the cozy room. Perhaps the house would be worth it after all. Right before walking in, you quickly looked to your left, thinking you saw something, but when nothing was there you walked excitedly inside and closed the door. You tried opening the window to let some fresh air in, but it seemed to be stuck. Or maybe you just didn't know how to do it. It looked fragile and so you let it be, deciding against causing an accident. Instead, you took your clothes and your things out, organizing them around the room to make it more personal, and when you were done, you hoped on the rather tall bed with the softest mattress you had ever felt in your life and called your friend.

"Girl, you owe me big time after this!" you whisper-shouted at her when she picked up, still not certain of how soundproof the building was and not wanting to risk Taehyung hearing anything.

Yoonji giggled from the other end of the call. "Hey, girl! How is the Manor looking so far?"

"Oh, that part is fantastic," you said genuinely. "Still in awe you were stupid enough to let this thing go. But don't try to change my mind like that," you scolded her. You knew her too well for her manipulation to work on you. And she knew that, which is why she giggled again. "Why, oh, why is Kim freaking Taehyung here, Yoon?"

You could almost hear her pout. "Oh, babe, you know I didn't know he'd be there! It's not my fault."

"Well, yes, but when I agreed to do this, it was between having the place to myself or sharing with your boyfriend. I would–"

"Ex-boyfriend!"

"–much rather have Jimin here to annoy instead of stupid Taehyung annoying me," you said, rolling your eyes. You stared at the door then, thinking you'd heard something, but dismissing it as just the old house making noises.

"Oh, c'mon. Don't call him that. It's not his fault he got into this, either."

"You know how I feel about that boy!" you insisted.

"He's actually nice, Amy."

"To you. Because you're his best friend's girlfriend. He doesn't–"

"Ex-girlfriend..."

"–give a fuck about anyone else," you mumbled, playing with your hair. "Anyone who is beneath him and his stupid, rich ass is not worth being nice to, you know?"

Yoonji hummed. "I don't think he's that rich, he's just kind of famous. It's not the same."

You rolled your eyes and groaned. "That's not the point here." You got up and looked out the window. Air had picked up and was making the trees around the garden dance passionately. "I don't feel comfortable around him, so now I have to spend a whole week being weird and worried I might run into him no matter what I do."

Your roommate clicked her tongue disapprovingly at you. "Girl, I say give him a chance and get to know him. Who knows, you may become friends and when you get back we can all hang out together."

You smiled, raising an eyebrow even if she couldn't see it. "I thought you had broken up with Jimin, how are we gonna hang out all together?"

"Ah!" It really must have slipped her mind, too, which made it all that funnier. "You're right, don't become friends with him. You will never see him again, anyway," Yoonji was quick to correct herself.

You sighed, still smiling at your silly friend, as you propped one leg up on the window sill and leaned your head against the glass. "Can't I just leave, say, tomorrow?"

"Amy..."

"Too tired today," you added with a yawn.

"I think you should stay. First of all, if you leave, Jimin might come, and him with his self-proclaimed soulmate there would just make my blood boil, so we can't have that. But second of all, and most importantly, you are at a gorgeous Victorian Manor and all you do is complain about a gorgeous boy living with you. Things could be worse, Amy. He could have been an asshole and ugly." You burst out laughing. "So just enjoy it, okay? Fuck him and enjoy your stay. You won't ever get a chance like this again, Jimin paid for most of it, you know we could never afford that."

You rolled your eyes again, but as lovingly as you could. "Fine..." you succumbed to her words. "I guess I could put on my cute dress and go pick mushrooms and forget about the other guy."

Yoonji cheered. "That's the spirit! Go be a cottagecore fairy, baby, you deserve it."

"God, I hate you."

"Love you, too!"

Yeah, you should enjoy what you could from this. Maybe Taehyung wouldn't be such a pain in the ass. Not very likely, but maybe.

Next chapter

[plaidshirtjimkirk]

I saw the Soft Sentence Starters prompts and “Wake up. Come on, there’s something I want to show you” just caught my eye. If you're up to it, I would love to see a Spirk short starting with that one! And if not, no worries, I hope you feel better!

Thank you so much for the prompt! I switched the dialog up a little for this one. Written to Somedays by Flance.

~

.*As Certain as the Stars*.

There were no fireflies on Vulcan—no gleaming embers of gold that faded into the dark, no veil of sparkles in tall grass rich with color. And there was no custom there, even in the meadows, to lie back against a stretching bed of green and simply let time unravel as it willed, as lazy as the drifting of firefly cinder.

Crickets chirped in chorus over a gentle breeze and Spock closed his eyes, breathing deep the scent of freshly cut Iowan lawn and allowing Earth to embrace him with all of its magic. It really was a beautiful planet, this home of Jim’s. Of course, it was where his mother had been born as well, and the place to which his father was assigned the coveted position of ambassador. Spock had visited countless times in his youth for both reasons, and despite the human blood coursing through his veins, had never felt so strong a connection—or any connection at all, really.

Until now.

The effects of loving someone were fascinating. It could turn the serious silly, the indifferent to romantic…could have a Vulcan sprawled out beside a Terran, watching the stars for no reason other than aesthetic pleasure and the comfort of counting his heartbeats.

Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five…

Jim’s breaths were calm and steady, the relaxed deep kind where the abdomen moved instead of the chest, and he’d gone for so long without speaking that everything had begun to resemble some beautiful, beautiful dream. The warmth of summer, the contentment of rest without consequence, the ability to forget duty and schedules and the routine, to just exist because one simply could…

“Hey.” Spock barely registered the gently-spoken word before it was repeated, and then his eyes opened.

“Oh no, did I wake you?” Concern was in Jim’s voice as he shifted the arm that had been holding Spock close to him and sat up slowly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“It is of no—” The sentence never finished as Spock watched an ivory line sweep among the stars before it burned out. His lips remained parted, the reply abandoned.

“It’s starting,” Jim said softly with a large grin, hands flat against the earth and supporting his upper body while his face was lifted to the heavens.

Spock watched, mesmerized, as though he’d never seen a meteor shower before…watched nearly breathless while the phenomena painted trails of luster in the spotlight of lunar silver and careened against a backdrop of celestial brilliance. To his left, Jim flopped on his back again and pulled him close, both vigilant spectators to a show of truly cosmic proportions, for they too were but the dust of stars.

A hand reached to the sky suddenly, fingers spread until they curled into a light fist, as if it were possible to capture passing memories and hold them tangibly. “I used to watch the Perseids with my mom every summer.” There was a hinting of pleasant nostalgia in Jim’s voice, and though he didn’t say it aloud and there was no melancholy about him, his silence spoke after. I miss her.

Winona was unique; Spock knew that without ever having met her. She’d been a kind and fun mother, perhaps a little quirky, but from the many stories Jim recounted, it was clear that he and his brother had felt loved even during the years George spent in space. Winona was a woman of science and philosophy, spending her days in research and nights in thought, sometimes with the aid of a hand-rolled cigarette every now and then. The porch boards would creak with her wooden rocking chair as she smoked and let her mind take her places.

She’d been smart, amusing, quick on her toes—and encouraged Jim not to blindly follow in his father’s footsteps, but chase his own dreams. It just so happened that he wanted the same thing as George for as long as he could recall, and the twists and turns of that dream had led up to this very moment.

For that, and much more, Spock was grateful to Winona Kirk.

So he extended a hand up then, his own fingers blooming open to cover Jim’s in support and solidarity of love for her. Their digits laced together, entwining and remaining held toward the stars until Jim pulled them down to his heart.

“I’m glad I could see this again.” It was spoken over a half sigh. “And that you could be here with me.” Jim turned his face, his mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. “Thanks, Spock.”

The Enterprise was in dry dock now at the halfway point of her five-year mission, a quick tune-up and some repairs in order before she was ready to carry her crew through the rest of it. That, naturally, meant a brief shore leave for all, and when Jim had proposed his childhood home, Spock agreed readily. Of course, he would have gone anywhere simply to remain at his side, but here…this place, where Jim had grown up and the yard in which he’d played, the kitchen and living room where he’d spent countless hours, the bedroom window he’d looked through to stare into the night sky with wonder and want…

It was special and important, just like Jim, and thus his gratitude was unfounded.

“It is I who must thank you.”

“For bringing you to a boring farm in the middle of nowhere?” Jim laughed incredulously.

Spock closed his eyes and shook his head, amused. “For bringing me to your home.”

The smile never faded from Jim’s face, though it did become more thoughtful as his head tilted and he peered down for a moment. When their gazes met soon after, the space between his lashes was rife with affection and he leaned in to catch Spock’s lips in a kiss once, then twice, before Jim gently fell atop him while cradling the back of his head against the verdant lawn.

Under a show of stellar fireworks they kissed and intertwined hands, nuzzled and embraced, shared breaths and quietly dreamed a new dream of a life together as unending as the universe: of a captain and his first officer, a man and his husband, a Vulcan and his bondmate. Of parted and never parted, of forever touching and touched.

Would they? Could they?

Surely, someday, when the timing was right and the pieces fell into place—as sure as firefly sparkle in the tall grass and Perseid showers in the Terran summer.

Jim pulled back, far enough only to look lovingly at Spock’s face and run a caressing touch over his cheek. “You’re welcome then,” he finally whispered. “Come back with me again sometime?”

Spock’s chin fell in a nod, along with his eyes for a beat.

Certainly, someday—as certain as the stars.

[himikiyo]

love they say // himikiyo week day 3

Himikiyo Week Day 3: Fashion + Makeup 

When dedicating an evening to something, wasn't it best to just go all the way with it? It wasn't as if they had many other calming activities, nor did they have any more pressing matters to attend to. Spending time together and enjoying a bit of peace was all that mattered.

Doing each other's makeup is always a pleasant way to spend time.

Read on AO3 or under the cut

A warehouse wasn’t the most traditional place for a date. It was full of cramped, cluttered shelves, illuminated by harsh, industrial light. There was nowhere comfortable to sit. It was more likely than not that someone would interrupt — Himiko was expecting the door to burst open at any moment. She’d be lucky if it wasn’t Tenko. Despite all of that, there was nowhere else she’d rather be at the moment.

“I’ve always found it impressive how well stocked this place is. It seems our captors truly are prepared to keep us here as long as necessary.” Korekiyo leaned against the nearest shelving structure, arms crossed. “Not only do they cater to everyone’s preferences when it comes to the essentials, like food and clothing, they provide near-endless entertainment and luxuries. It’s fascinating.”

“Everything’s restocked so often too,” Himiko chimed in. “I’ve never heard anyone complain about being out of something.” And yet, how were new supplies delivered? Nobody had ever witnessed it happen, nor were they aware of any potential entry points, aside from perhaps the end of the underground tunnel they were never able to get through. It was a question that had crossed her mind more than once, and one that Korekiyo voiced as soon as she thought of it again.

“However are they able to make deliveries undetected?”

“They must have powerful magic,” she said solemnly. “Invisibility and space-type magic? It’s not easy.” The truth, of course, was that she had no idea. They both knew that, but Kiyo always played along with her magic-themed excuses. It was one of the many things she loved about them.

“Well, if even an expert mage thinks it would be difficult, then they must be formidable opponents indeed.”

“We’ll all defeat them and get out of here someday though. I’m sure of it.” She closed the distance between them in just a few steps, winding her arms around Korekiyo’s waist and leaning her head against their chest. Feeling their arms wrap around her in return, she was content to just stay there for a few moments, savoring their embrace.

“I agree. And to me, how long it takes is of little consequence. With plenty to observe, and you by my side, I am content. My other goals can be...put on hold temporarily.”

“What kinds of goals? You mean the stuff you have to do for your sister?” Despite having spent months getting closer and closer, Himiko still didn’t know what those goals were. Korekiyo was cagey about their past. No matter how much she pushed, it felt like they were always holding something back. They had an older sister who died, but she didn’t know when or how. They had a mission they apparently promised her they’d complete, but Himiko didn’t know what it was. There was always more to learn. She was doing her best to be patient.

“Yes, precisely.” A bandaged hand carded through her hair once, twice. Gentle, yet somehow perfunctory. “No need to focus on such topics right now though. I believe we’re here for something else, aren’t we?” There was a hint of playfulness creeping into their voice, and when Himiko pulled back a little, she could see the slight crinkles in their mask, suggesting that they were smiling beneath it.

“Yeah,” she said, lips quirking into a smile in return. Despite how long they’d been lingering there being affectionate, the warehouse wasn’t actually the main destination for their date. It was just a necessary stop along the way. They had to pick up a few things for their cozy evening together. “Shall we?”

It seemed they hardly needed reminding. The words were barely out of her mouth by the time Korekiyo was turning to inspect the shelf in front of them. They stayed at a cozy distance though, brushing against her side every time they moved. Surprisingly enough, the little cosmetics section wasn't as picked over as one might think. Everyone either didn't care about such things at all, or could take things in moderation. The one exception to that might have been Miu, but she was just one person among sixteen. Their date wouldn't be ruined by her.

One by one, different shades and formulations of makeup were plucked from the shelf and placed into the bag Kiyo brought. They took turns picking things out — a tube of brightly colored lipstick here, a shimmery eyeshadow there, until they had a nice collection of things. Not only makeup, but nail polish and hair accessories too. When dedicating an evening to something, wasn't it best to just go all the way with it? It wasn't as if they had many other calming activities, nor did they have any more pressing matters to attend to. Spending time together and enjoying a bit of peace was all that mattered.

"I think these would look cute on you," Himiko announced, holding up a small set of barrettes. They seemed to have a Halloween theme — little ghosts, bats, and jack o lanterns. Though the style was much more cutesy than their usual macabre aesthetic, she thought it would be nice to see anyway. In her opinion, creepy-cute was pretty much Korekiyo's whole thing.

"You think so?" they echoed, a thoughtful hand cupping their cheek. "Are they even seasonally appropriate?"

At that question, she had to pause, biting her lip. She wasn't sure, she realized. After so long inside the academy, it was sometimes difficult to keep track of the days. The fake outdoors always looked the same, but that didn't mean much inside the dome encasing them. Couldn't the 'weather' be whatever the kidnappers wanted it to be? It felt like it should be autumn by now.

Before she could speak, Korekiyo beat her to it.

"My apologies, Himiko, dear. It wasn't my intention to remind you of any unpleasant thoughts. Halloween is lovely no matter the day." They seemed genuinely sheepish, or as close to it as they ever got, which was only ever around her. She brushed it off though, shaking her head and tugging them into a brief, sideways hug.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. If we have enough, let's just get out of this warehouse before someone comes by to distract us," she said. "I don't feel like sharing you tonight." Just as she predicted, that seemed to make them smile behind the mask.

Once they’d returned to Kiyo’s dorm room, it was time to get to work. The stash of supplies from the warehouse was on the bed, and the tea set was laid out on their desk, faint ribbons of steam curling up into the air. Self-care night was in full swing.

Himiko herself was settled on the bed too, watching them sift through the bag of makeup. With this, much like everything else, they were meticulous. Picking something up and putting it down again, humming under their breath, then repeating the whole cycle again, as if planning to paint a priceless canvas rather than just do her makeup for fun.

“You’re so beautiful,” they crooned eventually to break the silence, partway through applying her eyeliner. She couldn’t even look at their expression, only able to imagine the downright hungry grin she’d seen on their face before. She could only sit there, light pressure and cool ink being drawn along her lash line in what she knew would be two perfect wings.

“I think you’re mostly responsible for that. If you weren’t an anthropologist, I bet you could be a makeup artist.”

Korekiyo chuckled, airy and melodic.

“I’m pleased you think so highly of my skills, but that was not what I meant. You’re beautiful both with and without makeup. I’m an artist only insofar as I’m permitted to work on a piece of art like you.” The gentle sensation of the eyeliner pen retreated, and she heard the soft click of them capping it. Able to open her eyes again, she did so, greeted with just the expression she expected. Their cheeks flushed, pupils dilated, and a needy sort of look that was nowhere near as innocent as it ought to be.

“You’re so...” She choked back a wordless sound, heavy with affection and bewilderment. It wasn’t the first time they’d said something like that to her, but she doubted she’d ever get used to it.

They shushed her gently, something that had no right to be attractive, but very much was anyway. It wasn’t a gesture of condescension. No, if anything, she typically felt like the one in control. They protected her, yes, but often played the role of supplicant, eager to give in to her every whim and desire. There was something driving them beyond simple affection and desire, some deep-seated something that she couldn’t yet understand, but she welcomed it.

Bandaged fingers slipped under her chin to tilt her head up slightly, other hand opening a tube of lip gloss. It was a deep berry color, rich and eye-catching. The scent was fruity too, sweet like strawberries. Even as they gently swept the applicator over her lips in tiny, perfect motions, she found herself thinking that it would look lovely on them too, a little different from the shades of crimson they typically favored.

Kiyo must have been thinking the same thing. They paused, frowning thoughtfully after what she knew wasn’t an error. Their hands were too steady to slip, and she would have felt it if they did.

“Ah, my mistake,” they said anyway. “Allow me to fix that.” Rather than reaching for something to wipe away the nonexistent smudge with, or even using their finger, they leaned in and kissed her. As her arms wound around them, lips parting, their tongue darted out to catch a taste, berries and earthy matcha mingling together.

“I think you might need to start over,” she said when the kiss was eventually broken, reaching out to wipe a smear of dark purpley-pink from the corner of their mouth.

“Yes, I suppose I might.”

[war-of-the-words]

The Taste of Love

Summary: Prompt fill:  Soulmates share their sense of taste. Written Feb 2018 Read on AO3

It was always incredibly important to Kudo Shinichi that he always ate delicious food, not because he was a connoisseur of any sort, nor because his family had the wealth to do so, but because he felt it was his duty to ensure that his soulmate would be privilege to the greatest tastes Shinichi could afford. His parent were the ones to instill this mentality in him, telling stories about how they would feel so connected to one another when they were able to share a meal without meeting one another. How they would neglect eating their own meals in order to not ruin whatever the other was eating. Shinichi had no way of knowing who his soulmate was, where they lived, whether or not they had the level of privilege he had, so, as soon he was told about soulmates, he would always beg his parents to take him to the restaurants with the greatest food, unaware of their cost at the time, and his parents would always comply. The tradition continued until he lived on his own. He had to be conscious of his spending money, so he altered his approach. He was constantly online, looking for the restaurants that were lesser known, lower priced, but praised for their exceptional food. Shinichi discovered some of his favorite restaurants this way, and by the way he would crave those restaurants, his soulmate must like them too.

Speaking of his soulmate, Shinichi had always found them peculiar. Home-cooked meals could always be picked out, and Shinichi always enjoyed the days he could taste such a meal on his lips-and he was thankful Ran was always offering to make meals for him, otherwise his soulmate might hate him for constantly eating convenience store food-so it was one of the highlights of Shinichi’s day when he would taste those meals, it made him so much more connected with his soulmate, and he kept track of the kinds of things his soulmate ate in order to try and deduce the things his soulmate liked or hated. His soulmate loved chocolate, in all forms, and didn’t seem to eat a lot of fish, which made him think his soulmate wasn’t Japanese for quite a while. His soulmate also ate some weird combinations, some to gross to even think about physically eating. He hoped most of those were for dares or some kind of punishment game.

At about the age of eight, Shinichi found he was glad he had decided to keep a journal about his soulmates eating habits. At all the usual times he would taste some meal on his lips, he tasted nothing. It lasted weeks, only occasionally tasting crackers or other easy to digest foods. He worried that his counterpart had been hospitalized, but hospitals gave their patients proper meals, so Shinichi decided that it must be something more mental keeping his soulmate from eating. He set out on a quest, scouring back through his notes to find the foods he deemed his soulmate liked the most. Yusaku and Yukiko became slightly concerned when their son started to demand foods he usually ate in moderation, chocolate, in all kinds of forms, meals cooked a certain way, as little fish as possible, certain restaurants, and when their eight-year-old finally disclosed the reason for his behavior, they complied. And it seemed to work, Shinichi began to have certain cravings, sometimes for foods he was eating, other times for meals that he quickly begged his parents to have, and, eventually, he began to taste proper meals on his lips again. Still afraid his soulmate would stop eating, Shinichi started yet another tradition, on Saturdays, he would ensure he ate whatever he thought his soulmate would most enjoy.

That tradition he carried into his teens, incorporating the ever-growing set of data, the small restaurants he would frequent, and begging for the occasionally favor from Ran to help him cook a meal. Ran would always agree, and soon made it a tradition of her own to spend Saturdays with Shinichi, cooking or going out to meals with him. She loved watching him, how dedicated he was to this person he didn’t even know, and hoped that his soulmate would one day be able to appreciate this, and go to these meals with him. His soulmate seemed to at least become attached to Saturdays, Shinichi wouldn’t taste anything until well after the times Shinichi ate.

Shinichi was content, he was rising in popularity as a detective, and he loved being one, sure, but if asked, Shinichi would always say that food was his absolute favorite thing in the world. That statement made his fame slightly more uncomfortable as fans would send in different kinds of foods, expensive ones, homemade one, desserts and bentos to giftcards to some of the most luxurious restaurants in Tokyo. Not only were his fans keen to try to exploit this fact, but so was Suzuki Sonoko. She would offer the use of her family’s private chef, or just paying for one of the more expensive restaurants on Shinichi’s list in exchange for favors. The most frequent one might be her most outrageous.

“If you catch Kaitou KID for me, I’ll pay for all of your meal expenses for the next five years.” Shinichi looked up, taken aback.

“I’m sorry? You want me to what?” Sonoko sighed, placing her hands on her hips and leaning menacingly over Shinichi, where he sat at his desk.

“I want you to catch Kaitou 1412 for me and show me his face before taking him in to police custody in exchange for all of your food expenses for the next five years.” Shinichi’s face must still have shown confusion, because Sonoko let out another sigh and elaborated, “Kaitou KID is like, the most notorious criminal right now, and if anyone can catch him, you can, you detective nerd, so take that as a compliment and do this for me.”

And that’s how Shinichi began his hunt for a phantom, he couldn’t turn down that offer, it would be absolute lunacy. All of his food expenses? Shinichi had learned to go about it cost effectively, but with Sonoko as his wallet, he could frequent the higher ticket restaurants more frequently, or buy higher quality ingredients, or take cooking classes. He had to do this favor for Sonoko. The first few heists he attended, Shinichi was so caught up in trying to catch the thief that he got nowhere close to him, so he put his goal on the back burner and just tried to focus on the phantom thief as much as possible.

Shinichi began to experience the heists in a completely new way. He picked up on the meaning behind the notices quicker, and with each passing heist, began to meet the thief’s pace. He came to respect KID, he was clever and he pushed Shinichi to think in different ways, and if the banter the two would exchange was any indication, KID liked the challenge the Shinichi brought to him as well. This continued on for a few months until a certain heist, the first one to ever be scheduled on a Saturday.

It shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was, but through all of the research and analysis Shinichi did on the thief, Saturdays were the least likely KID picked for heists, it was one of the reasons why Shinichi allowed himself to pursue the thief with such fervor. The owner of the jewel had challenged KID to steal it, however, so Kaitou KID, never one to turn down a challenge, really didn’t have a choice. As much as it pained Shinichi, he couldn’t miss a heist, and, sure, he found the phantom thief to be a great rival, but Sonoko’s offer was too good to pass up. He made sure his breakfast was quite elaborate, an unspoken apology to his soulmate, and hoped the flavor helped his soulmate, if the taste of an energy bar and black coffee, unusual for his soulmate, was anything to go by.

The heist location was in the museum the gem’s owner curated. He had brought the sizable peridot out of storage for one day only, and had smugly challenged Kaitou KID to steal it from “the one of a kind security” of the museum. Shinichi didn’t understand why all of these rich people think their security is any different than the others, the thief always gets through it. Shinichi was at the heist location around five, managing to grab a sandwich at a small western deli he had found on one of his cheap food hunts. He wasn’t the biggest fan of deli food, but it was quick and easy and he was now craving said sandwich, so his soulmate must be enjoying the taste. It wasn’t like he was the only one eating pre-heist either, many of the officers were eating quick bites in between planning.

Shinichi, however, was more concerned over who wasn’t eating. His soulmate still hadn’t had anything but the energy bar and now he tasted, what, some kind of cosmetic? It certainly didn’t taste like the lip balm he often felt on his lips during the colder months, and it felt more dense than lip balm too.

Shinichi was thrown out of his musings by the feeling of someone staring at him. Quickly jerking his head around, he scanned the area, no one was making eye contact with him, and no one looked like they were actively trying to avoid him, he did, however, notice the curator and his wife. They must have just arrived, as they were talking with Nakamori-keibu. The curator looked as Shinichi had assumed, a pompous man who was dressed formally, like he was trying to shove his wealth in everyone else’s face. His wife was just as pompous looking, her face heavily coated in makeup with intensely red lipstick. Which just brought his thoughts back to his soulmate.

It was rare for his soulmate to wear lipstick or lipgloss, and he usually only felt it in the evening, so was it cosmetics for dates? Shinichi didn’t want to think about that. He knew a lot of people dated outside of their soulmate, as it was rare to actually find one another, but what could he say, Shinichi was a romantic at heart.

Shinichi shook himself from those thoughts, he had to focus on the heist. He took a seat on one of the benches on the side of the exhibit hall, it was evident they were there for more aesthetic purposes rather than comfort. He pulled a copy of the heist note from his pocket, it was fairly straightforward, a clear acceptance of the curator’s challenge, but there was something else in it, something Shinichi hasn’t quite discovered yet. His suspicion was that the thief had incorporated a clue as to who he would disguise himself as in order to enter the museum, but it was a struggle to find in what way the thief had coded the hint.

He had lost himself trying to decode the note in every cypher he knew of, and when he had finally gotten it, it was just about the time of the heist. Almost jumping from his seat, Shinichi rushed to find the inspector, he was still standing on the other side of the exhibit by the gem with the curator and his wife, who were apparently quite displeased with division two’s plan. “It is just outrageous that you people even need to be here!” the curator exclaimed, with a voice as pompous as he looked.

“My husband had this place upgraded to the best security system in all of Japan, isn’t that right dear?” His wife, with a voice equally as pompous, added.

“Of course, just look for yourselves! There is absolutely no way Kaitou KID could break into this case,” the pair stalked over to the display case the jewel was resting in, “Only my handprint can open this case,” the curator explained, reaching for the panel keeping the case locked.

“Wait! Don’t get to close!” Shinichi yelled, still too far away to prevent what happened next, which was his wife, with a quick smirk aimed toward the detective, forcing the man’s hand onto the panel, unlocking the display case, and with an explosion of smoke, the curator’s wife was gone, and Kaitou KID stood smugly on top of the now empty case.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” KID gestered out to the clearly shocked group of officers and reporters, there only because the curator allowed it; Shinichi, however, was still making his way toward the thief. “I’m terribly sorry I have to cut tonight short, I do hope you forgive me, but I’m usually occupied on Saturdays, and as there is still time left in the day, I hope we can all go home and enjoy it.” That statement shocked Shinichi enough to stop his approach, so the phantom really did avoid Saturday heists. It was nice to confirm one of his suspicions, but it only raised more questions.

In a flash, KID had thrown another smoke bomb, the cover allowing him to remove himself from the display before the task force could make their move. Shinichi wasn’t certain which way the thief would escape, but his gut told him the roof was his best bet. He was pleased to find his hunch was right. Throwing open the door, he could clearly see the thief standing by the edge of the roof, his whole body showing ease and confidence. Before  Shinichi could even register it himself, he was already deploying a soccer ball which hurled toward the phantom at a breakneck speed, then-

Blood. Shinichi tasted blood, but he wasn’t bleeding, did his soulmate bite their lip or…

“Jesus, Tantei-kun, give a guy some time to react next time, did I do something to offend you?” Shinichi brought his attention back to the criminal in front of him. KID was holding the left side of his face, visibly turning red even in the dim light. And his lip… was busted and bleeding. Oh .

Shinichi couldn’t jump to conclusions, it could just be a coincidence, but, “KID, tell me, did you use some kind of cosmetic on your lips for your disguise today? Not on a mask, but your actual lips.” KID, through his pain, gave Shinichi a questioning smirk.

“Why detective, I didn’t know you were interested in cosmetics. To answer your question, yes, I did, it was a lovely shade called “He’s With Me”. Don’t ask me why they name lipsticks these kinds of things, I don’t understand it either.” Okay, well, Shinichi didn’t need all that information.

“KID, what have you had to eat today?”

“I really don’t understand the interrogation, Tantei-kun, first you hit me in the face with a soccer ball, now you sound like my mother asking about how I’ve been eating.”

“Please, KID, just tell me.” The thief seemed to consider it for a couple seconds.

“Well, it’s a heist day and it was kind of sudden, so I had to do a bit of setup and recon this morning, so, I don’t know, I guess I just grabbed a power bar and some coffee, as vile as straight black coffee is.”

Well great. Shinichi had no idea what to do with this information. Well first I should probably… “KID, I think we’re soulmates.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m fairly certain. I made chocolate chip pancakes this morning with a side of bacon, then for lunch I went to a deli and got a turkey sandwich on rye bread with lettuce, tomato, and provolone cheese.”

“...Was the bread toasted?”

“Yeah.”

“... You really need to take me to all of these places, Tantei-kun, do you know how tragic it is to crave something and then have absolutely no idea where to find said dish? I have been searching for that yakisoba place for months .” Despite himself, Shinichi let out a little laugh.

“Well, like you said, there is still time left in the day”

“You mean, you're fine with...this?” KID gestured to himself, a small, genuine smile on his lips.

“Only if your okay with dating a detective and, you know, you don't try to assault anyone, and I think those are pretty reasonable standards.” KID laughed, a sound Shinichi could listen to for the rest of his life.

“Well detective, I think we have ourselves a date.”

[scifigeneration]

A different kind of mini break: imagined cities to explore from your sofa

by Serena Trowbridge, Drew Cattanach, and Paul March-Russell

KHIUS/Shutterstock

Lockdown is preventing many of us from travelling to cities we might have been longing to visit. But we can take this opportunity to explore urban landscapes that exist in other worlds. Three experts introduce cities featured in novels, poetry and video games.

Utopian London

Utopia seems like a good place to spend some time just now. William Morris’ novel News from Nowhere (1890) takes Londoner William Guest, tired of the dirty city and his hard work, to a future London where the birds sing in the trees again. People are content, with rich full lives in a place where pollution, poverty and misery are forgotten. The medieval aesthetics and socialist politics of this ideal future are improbable and optimistic, but delightful and vividly portrayed.

William Morris, News From Nowhere. William Morris/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-NC

Though Guest is later returned to the dingy present of Victorian London, he takes back hope: of a changed world where everyone’s worth is recognised and work and leisure are productive and inspiring. The novel concludes that this future may yet be realised with communal effort, so that this beautiful, ideal London “may be called a vision rather than a dream”. ST

A bustling city

City Trees, a short poem by Edna St Vincent Millay (1921), recalls us to a time when our cities were busy places, rather than the deserted streets of a locked-down world. Millay’s poem evokes a pause, a loitering under a tree, perhaps seeking shade or shelter from the rain, straining to hear the “thin and sweet” sound a tree makes. In my head this is in Paris, though it could be any city street or country lane.

Claude Monet, Boulevard des Capucines. Nelson Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City. Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-ND

This simple poem offers a moment of stillness in a busy place, and reminds us to look up, down, around, to pay attention to the tiny sounds and sights and movements which are signs of urban nature. Millay invites us to pay attention to the quieter aspects of life which are so often lost in the day’s noisy rough-and-tumble. ST

New Crobuzon

The author China Miéville is a Londoner since childhood and cities appear in most of his fictions. The city of New Crobuzon was first introduced in his novel Perdido Street Station, published in 2000. A congested, polluted capital whose factories run on alchemy, New Crobuzon is home to a vast array of human, non-human and hybrid creatures. The majority are exploited and abused by the ruling oligarchy and its state militia.

New Crobuzon is an industrial megacity perpetually on the point of collapse. Tithi Luadthong/Shutterstock

The city, though, is perpetually on the point of collapse. The Dickensian echoes of this fantastical yet heavily industrialised landscape suggest that New Crobuzon is only a slightly distorted version of Miéville’s London. PM-R

Viriconium

In his acknowledgements to Perdido Street Station, Miéville credits the influence of M John Harrison. Harrison’s Viriconium series, published between 1971 and 1985, may be fantasy’s best kept secret. The titular city is set on a far-future Earth and salvaged from scraps of technology. In the first novel, The Pastel City (1971), it seems to be a physical location. By the first sequel, A Storm of Wings (1980), it has become – like Joyce’s Dublin – an externalisation of the protagonists’ mental state.

In the third novel, In Viriconium (1982), the city is exposed as a fiction that disguises our real world yet also seeps into it. As Harrison later remarked, Viriconium is an invitation not “to control things. Learn to love the vertigo of experience instead.” PM-R

Novigrad

The Free City of Novigrad appears in the video game Witcher 3: Wild Hunt. The games and subsequent Netflix season are based on a series of fantasy novels of the same name, by Andrzej Sapkowski. Novigrad is a bustling economic hub, with busy trade routes exporting grain to the four kingdoms of the game’s world. The busy docks, lively squares and criss-crossing canals are modelled on medieval Amsterdam, and capture a snapshot of a crowded and dirty antique European capital. You can explore the oak-beamed townhouses which line the main thoroughfares or the dank monster-infested sewers.

Novigrad is inhabited by throngs of medieval townsfolk who you can interact with: exchanging conversation or trading goods and become embroiled in arching narratives or simply gaining an insight into the everyday life of a Novigradian. The city might not be a picture-postcard European city break, but the lavish detail makes it compelling nonetheless. DC

The Vault

Fallout Shelter is a free-to-play simulation game for smartphones and tablets. It is a twisted slice of American pie set in a post-apocalyptic future. Playing the game, you are the overseer of a vault, a subterranean city that has become a haven for dwellers, who are the remnants of humanity escaping the arid nuclear wasteland above.

The vault is styled in the futuristic Raygun gothic aesthetic – bright and energetic, with art deco overtones. However, the subtle lighting, muted palette and closeted rooms compromise the optimism and unbridled futurism of the style’s 1950s Americana.

The game unfolds as you oversee the day-to-day activities of your dwellers while sending teams out into the wasteland. Here, they scavenge for raw materials and complete quests as part of an engaging multi-faceted narrative. DC

About The Authors:

Serena Trowbridge is a Reader in Victorian Literature at Birmingham City University; Drew Cattanach is a Lecturer in Computer Games Development at the University of Westminster, and Paul March-Russell is a Lecturer in Comparative Literature at the University of Kent

This article is republished from our content partners over at The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. 

[funkymbtifiction]

Functions and skills

What’s your present stance on attributing skills and preferences to cognitive functions? I finished Lenore Thomson’s Personality Type last night and it left me confused. I was under the impression that while there’s often a link between your stack and thing you like to do and is god at, one shouldn’t see them as synonymous. Not all SPs are athletic or enjoy adrenaline etc.

During the whole book she talks about how each function is located in a different side of the brain like Dario Nardi, but nowhere she says this is a theory but treats it like a scientific fact, it just really bothers me. She also says playing basketball and driving is Se, and that talking about the past and remembering a lot of details is Si. Also says SPs can’t stand theory and all those stereotypes we have been trying to move on from.

The book is 11 years old so I try to keep that in mind, but so many people recommend it to this day I have to wonder whether I’m the one who’s resisting and/or not being able to integrate knowledge that should be basic. As I read I kept thinking “What if I mixed everything up?” Like I laughed when I said I can’t read maps but can easily find my way around anywhere on a forum and was told that’s an SP thing. But was I right it’s unrelated? I spend a big portion of my type reading/watching/discussing theories and cooking up my own, but I always thought it didn’t necessarily have to do with Intuition. Does it? To be fair the Sensing/Intuition divide is one I could never grasp specially in myself, because I never really hated or sucked at it to the point it where it was obvious what I preferred. I’ve always been really into things attributed to intuitives (theories, philosophy) but also sensors (detailed aesthetics, dancing). So I never typed people based on these things but by identifying what functions they were using, or sometimes they just register as a specific type. I need to know if my understanding was wrong so I can correct it.

I skipped over most of the right / left brained analysis and went right for the descriptions of the functions themselves, since I found them the most useful. As for attributing certain things to certain functions, I think in a typical Fe way, she was trying to reassure everyone they use all the functions in some capacity (Si for memory, Se for driving); and that may be true, but I prefer to see it in terms of which functions we naturally PREFER.

I liked her comparison of Se and Ne, for example, because it went in-depth into how a Se-dom can just “feel” the environment in the heat of the moment; like the fireman who said all his senses were alert in a fire, and he felt “more alive” because he was totally merging into his environment. His entire body was vibrating with sensory awareness. As a Ne, I have never felt connected in that tangible, raw, sensory way to the outer world and it fascinated me.

I think no one is 100% right about everything (including me ;), so you should read various MBTI sources, get the cross-contextual information (what they all agree on) and consider that a baseline guide for a basic understanding of MBTI. If you do that, you can somewhat avoid the stereotype traps, especially because they tend to be not realistic and overly glowing when it comes to the N types. I can always spot an N because they are not realistic. They stand out, because they believe in something not proven or possible, and sometimes not even remotely close to actual reality. I think fewer people would want to identify with intuitive labels if they also faced the embarrassment of admitting, in doing so, they are more idealistic than sensible, more prone to believing in things that cannot come true, and grossly over-exaggerate both their intuition and their own potential.

Just as an example, I like listening to Dave Ramsey for his financial advice and awhile back, he had a caller (INFP) who phoned in asking for advice in getting out of a serious debt hole. She had 100k in student loans for a degree in independent film-making, and assumed she could finish the movie she was working on (rather than getting a paying day job) and pay the student loans back plus some. Dave kindly asked her how much she think independent filmmakers make in a year; he reminded her that “independent” films are almost never blockbuster hits. He asked her how she planned to find a studio to market her independent production, and how they intended to sell it. He gently introduced her to the reality that she cannot make a ton of money, much less pay off her bills, living in a dream world of “I am going to be a famous and rich independent director right out of film school.” The details, and “real world” facts, she never even thought about, because she was busy chasing the “dream.” Intuitives all chase the dream, and sometimes do not pay attention to the reality. Sensors can have dreams, but they are more aware that those dreams are just that, dreams… for someday, or something to work toward.

Like Leonore says in her book, the Ne is someone who chases things for a short time, based on their idealistic potential, and then quickly loses interest in producing the tangible results it needs to truly succeed. They are not immersed in their sensory environment, they are hopping from one dream-cloud to the next, always assuming what they picture will come true and that it will be 100x bigger than what “is.” That’s why a lot of intuitive face dissatisfaction with the real world; they think in terms of castles and dragons, not ruins and lizards.

As another example, an ENFP I know tried to talk me one day into opening a bookstore. She had a dream of being an author-writer-book-store-owner with double offices and a coffee machine where she and I could peddle our books. She never thought about the financial overhead, the fact that bookstores are going under due to Amazon.com and other online retailers, how to get people to come into the bookstore, or any of the thousand other things that sort of commitment requires. It did not really matter, though, because a week later, she was off on another grandiose, unrealistic idea. 

- ENFP Mod

[imaginativecrime]

7 reasons The Witcher series is a mess (or damn I need to vent)

Unpopular opinion time! For the record, I’ve read the books, played the games, hell, I’ve binged the Polish movie and series (because my love for Michal Zebrowski and Zbigniew Zamachowski is undying, sue me), and I was super hyped. Then I spent the entire series yelling at the TV, so I made a handy numbered list of the reasons why I personally consider it mediocre at best.

Because I’m fucking disappointed and I’ll never not be bitter about it. Fact.

Be warned, there are all sorts of spoilers below.

Let’s look at some of the issues that affected the show as a whole:

1) Adaptation is hard work - but you have to do it right

Adapting a story from one medium to another is difficult, you inevitably have to change things to make it suitable to the new form of expression and also, everybody wants their adaptation to be unique, to emphasize points they think are important, to reflect on the current times, you name it. But changes in an adaptation should make sense and lend themselves to the storytelling.

Many changes in the series were arbitrary, nonsensical and contributed absolutely nothing. One such example is the Battle of Sodden Hill, a terribly executed “siege” with not enough extras to fill a classroom instead of a battle of 100 000 people. Writing out Redania, Aedirn and the Brotherhood of Sorcerers from the conflict doesn’t seem to have a point to it, while the delayed arrival of the armies of Temeria and Kaedwen is both unexplained, unlikely and underwhelming, not to mention that it completely undermines the Nilfgaardian threat as a whole. This, of course, is just the tip of the iceberg of all the things that are wrong with Sodden Hill in the series. 

Or take Foltest and his affair with Adda. It is perfectly clear in the books that after seven years of wizards, witchers and all manner of frauds coming and going while Foltest is obsessed with breaking the curse instead of killing his daughter, even the very last blind and deaf peasant knows about his shenanigans. It’s only logical, too. The story is relayed to Geralt in no uncertain terms at the very beginning. Now in the show the whole episode is too short to set up a murder mystery that requires Geralt’s incredible detective skills (uhuh) to unravel. What is worse is that you cannot make a big reveal of something that your audience actually has previous knowledge about. So why even bother to have Foltest deny it and have Geralt beat it out of Ostrit? 

Which brings us to point two:

2) We all know which way to Temeria, don’t we?

Even if you have popular source material, you cannot expect everyone to know it. An adaptation has to consider people who are just getting their first introduction to the sandbox. When your lore is as rich as that of the Witcher, you need time and careful effort to set up your world. The show made a total shit job of this one. As in the above example, sometimes the show ignores that we, as an audience, know things. 

Another example is Vilgefortz. We know him, his plans, abilities and allegiances, we have very specific expectations of his character. Besides completely failing these expectations (and doing a very unconvincing early reveal of his true colors), the show goes as far as taking Vilgefortz’s iconic sentence (You mistake stars reflected in a pond for the night sky.) and putting it in Fringilla’s mouth. Like did they actually think we wouldn’t notice? Or not be pissed?

At other times the show expects us to fill in its glaring blanks exactly by knowing our lore and characters. One obvious, overarching example of this is the issue of the separate timelines, that sometimes left even fans a little confused. Also, fun fact: one of my friends (who has no idea about anything in the Witcher’s world) for instance needed some time to realize Pavetta wasn’t, in fact, a grown-up Ciri, and he remains to this day very confused about Blaviken.

Basically, we are on a swing here, which is actually made even worse by another thing: bad pacing.

3) Hold your Roach for a moment

The first season wants to cram too much into its limited time and it has a severe negative impact on worldbuilding and character development. By bringing in all three timelines from the beginning, the show has to juggle time allotted to each. 

To be frank, Ciri’s timeline at this point consists of a lot of running and screaming, which in itself hardly merits all the time we spend with her. It could have been utilized in part to provide us with a view of the war from ‘below’, to show that beyond the high politics and heroic battles there are burned villages, dead peasants, people who lost everything, cripples, deserters, ruined fields, and so on. Instead, we get one refugee camp of neat tents, actual beds, food and complaints about Calanthe (though not of dead husbands, lost homes or winter). Though I guess it should come as no surprise that the shock value of paint being made from a woman’s reproductory organs (that never happened in the books) is more important than actual large scale human suffering.

Now giving Yennefer an extended back story is great. But by that level of extension once again time is being consumed that is taking other opportunities away. Opportunities like giving Geralt himself a bit more background, clarifying points for fresh faces in the audience, giving characters more time for meaningful interaction. Because there is not enough time to let the story breathe and progress naturally, episodes are often rushed, choppy, and shallow. 

4) Reverse worldbuilding, aka welcome to nowhere 

Another serious issue with worldbuilding is what I suspect to be a deliberate departure from the game visuals and aesthetic. One of the things I adore most about the games is that it built heavily on Eastern European history and folk tradition. Nothing compares to the feeling when you ride into a village and you feel right at home because things are inherently familiar, or you go out into the woods and hear the exact bird song you are used to.

Netflix is very careful not to even offer a whiff of this particular identity to its show, but it doesn’t seem to have a clear artistic vision beyond that. Thus while landscapes are nice enough, other settings such as cities, taverns, ballrooms and the like are horribly bland in that “this is how we imagine the middle ages in Hollywood” way and look exactly what they are: sets. While one is not likely to quickly forget the red rooftops of Novigrad or the wild beauty of the Kaer Morhen pass from the games, there is nothing memorable about the locations presented in the series. (Even more bewildering is the depiction of the elite boarding school of Aretuza as a creepy dungeon with elf skulls everywhere. I cannot even begin to address this one unless it is all in caps.) 

Point being that the show lacks an actual visual identity that would distinguish it from any other dime a dozen medieval fantasy.

5) My kingdom for a decent wardrobe

Sadly enough, the bland and flavorless visuals have a terrible effect on something else: clothes and armor. While some costumes are well done, there are way too many examples of the opposite. One very obviously is Nilfgaardian armor, which looks like fossilized trash bags with sad dick helmets. The fact that armor in the show is treated as the equivalent of cardboard is doing no one any favors. Please do your homework next time. Please?

Another inexplicable departure from the books and games is the appearance of the nobility, and most jarringly, sorceresses. That dress Yennefer picks out the first time? It’s literally the drabbest, ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, and the others are not much better. When it comes to period-accurate choices, the range is just so wide: we are talking cambric, velvet, silk, cloth of gold and silver. We are talking luxurious furs, embroidery, colorful feathers, bright dyes, coats of arms and jewelry. Brooches, necklaces, bracelets, rings, hat badges, belt buckles, hairpins, you name it. People wore their wealth. Making them look like sad orphans will not make them look any more medieval.

Peasant clothes also had their decorations, though to a lesser degree than nobles, obviously. But I guess it’s too much to hope that those would get any attention when queens are dressed like they lost a bet.

6) I see your people and I raise you mine

Including people of color in the casting choices caused a lot of heated debate amongst the fans, but at least it means that the show cares about minority representation, right? Right?

The world of the Witcher has its own minorities, and what we have seen of them so far is so incredibly pathetic that I haven’t the words. For one thing, they look so terrible that elves in the Polish series actually look better, and that was so not a high bar to exceed. To make matters worse, they again seem to lack any sort of distinguishing visual identity (except for the Dryads. I’m also willing to make an exception for Chireadan, as he actually looks right and he’s a settled elf.)

Sadly, unlike the games, the series also fails to establish even the beginnings of a compelling narrative for its minorities, which definitely needs to be in place by the time Thanedd happens at the very latest. What is more, we seem to be given something called the Great Cleansing, which is plenty obscure but comes across as a Night of Broken Glass sort of thing (though that could be just me). While still salvageable at this point, this shift in narrative is cause for some concern, and so far doesn’t make much sense.

7) Your villains are not my villains

Unlike the books and games, the Witcher series sadly doesn’t seem to excel at presenting opposing sides without the need to vilify one (which again, makes me worried about what they are going to do to the Scoia’tael later). 

Nilfgaard is now an Empire of Evil (TM) that lives for killing and religious fanaticism, Fringilla is a psychopath, and Cahir... Well, Cahir is a thousand shades of wrong all on his own. Stregobor and Istredd are now assholes of a whole different caliber, and even poor Eyck of Denesle gets to enjoy his five minutes of fame as a madman frothing at the mouth instead of a paragon of knightly virtue.

This is going so well.

[village-skeptic]

[It begins with obsession and knitwear; it begins with meta and fabrics; it begins with… the emotional semiotics of costuming. In this multi-part series, @burberrycanary and @village-skeptic exhaustively contextualize significant pieces of clothing from A Discovery of Witches.]

Diana's Cozy Cable-Knit Turtleneck of Vampire Backstory

[Part 3 of ?]

For as much digital ink as we’ve spilled about ADOW’s delicious knitwear, it’s interesting to note that we don’t actually see Diana in a sweater until near the beginning of the third episode. (And why? We'll get into that below.) However, you couldn’t ask for a stronger visual debut than this beautiful cream-colored chunky-knit Aran jumper!

Fisherman’s sweaters like this one have quite a distinguished lineage. Mid-century celebrities such as Grace Kelly, Steve McQueen and Elvis Presley made them casual fashion classics, but these thick sweaters originated as practical working gear for the fishing crews of the Aran Islands. Since these intricately-patterned beauties have such a rich history themselves, it’s rather appropriate that Diana seems to don one at the times that she ends up learning particularly important parts of Matthew’s history.

Now, some of you out there may be saying, “Hold on a second - we don’t learn anything about Matthew’s history the first time we see this sweater! He’s literally in the background and out of focus for most of this scene, in which Gillian offers Diana the world’s least effective apology.”

True enough—although Gillian’s behavior towards Matthew here does serve to remind us of the default status of vampire-witch relations. I know you’re angry with me—I understand!—but that does not mean that you have to spend time with that, Gillian sputters, and her scorn illustrates just how rare and improbable the developing trust (and attraction!) between Diana and Matthew is.

After a snap decision and a subsequent car ride filled with flirty glances, this sweater starts to do its real work as a visual cue: telling us it's time to shed some light on Matthew's past.

This process of revelation is not without its small hurdles, however. “Don’t you ask a lot of questions?” responds Matthew with a touch of wry bemusement, after Diana poses a rapid series of probing queries and follow-ups about his real name and background.

Yes, she does. But this process of self-disclosure starts and continues with Matthew himself! To avoid the creatures amassed at the archives, he could have taken her to a coffee shop, or a park, or even just wandered around Tesco aimlessly for a while. Instead, he brings Diana to his beautiful, historical house, where there are all sorts of lovely old books and objects for her to investigate.

One might be tempted to accuse him of peacocking a bit.

So, while Matthew opens up the house literally, he also opens up metaphorically, casually telling Diana about his history with the place. And then, after Diana’s mini-barrage of questions indicates that she values information about him, Matthew responds by volunteering ever-more-personal details about his past.

That reproof about her nosiness? Please. They don’t even make it up the stairs—she doesn’t even have her coat off—before he’s telling her about his mother and his stepfather. The Cozy Cable-Knit Turtleneck of Vampire Backstory is a very powerful garment.

Actually, the fact that Diana still has her coat on for most of these personal discussions feels right. There’s a lot of mutual self-disclosure going on during the day spent at Matthew’s house, but neither of them are quite acknowledging the growing intimacy between them. (That trainwreck happens later in the episode, after everyone’s coats and jackets are off.)

Moreover, the Vampire Backstory revealed in these conversations is still relatively devoid of any complicated or troubling details. Phillippe is “no longer with us”; same for Matthew’s brother, the former owner of the alchemy books which Diana so lovingly caresses. However, we learn nothing about the actual circumstances of their deaths. Similarly, the conversation about Matthew’s actual age (and un-death) is softened with language about “birthdays.” Witness eager historian Diana’s marveling reaction: “The things you must have seen!” Matthew’s cautiously self-revealing response—"Mm. And done”—has a chilling undertone, but it remains vague enough not to deflate the flirty, spontaneous “date” vibes of the afternoon. Ultimately, the hint of a warning that Matthew gives Diana here is nowhere near enough to dissuade her from impulsively inviting him to dinner.

On balance, then, this initial appearance of the Cozy Cable-Knit Turtleneck of Vampire Backstory is pretty warm and fuzzy. But that’s not at all the case the next time we see it: in France, when it’s Ysabeau who leads Diana through a recounting of Matthew’s history.

Sickness, death, grief, pain, anger, violence, regret and loneliness. It’s not a story that’s easy to hear - you might want the comfort of a cozy cable-knit sweater, too.

Diana doubles down on the woolens here, adding a gorgeous dark blue wrap to her ensemble. There’s an obvious contrast in color and aesthetic between Diana’s shawl and Ysabeau’s fur-trimmed one-shoulder stole, but the costuming choice here still emphasizes the similarities between them. Ysabeau approaches Diana with facts rather than theatrics here, and the result is that the two women are far more in tune with each other emotionally than we’ve ever seen them before.

Now, we would be remiss if we didn’t caution you that there’s a lot of unreliable, advertising-based mythology out there about Aran sweaters, especially the idea that certain stitches were supposed to have “traditionally” signified particular meanings. Similarly, it’s important to note that both times Diana wears the Cozy Cable-Knit Turtleneck of Vampire Backstory, the history that she receives is shaped by the agenda of the person who recounts it. Ysabeau tells Matthew’s story in order to dissuade her from a relationship with Matthew; Matthew engages in self-disclosure in ways that are specifically intended to impress Diana and to foster intimacy.

No one is a wholly objective source, especially when the stakes are high. But Diana is a historian; she’s used to evaluating evidence from different sources, and synthesizing it with her own insights to create as truthful an account as possible. Here, she sees beyond Ysabeau’s overt agenda, to the underlying truth that she is offering about the meaning of commitment and the inevitability of loss.

One final note: an analysis of the Cozy Cable-Knit Turtleneck of Vampire Backstory also helps to demonstrate some broad costuming paradigms within ADOW. In a previous post, we’ve already noted the show’s predilection for gorgeous saturated shades of blue, particularly a peacock hue that we just went ahead and dubbed “Diana’s blue.” Generally speaking, Diana appears in blue in moments of power, achievement, and/or comfort - when she’s feeling particularly resolute and grounded. Shades of white and cream, we would argue, signal issues involving the past.

The specific type of textiles used in the costuming for a given scene also seem to be significant. Woven cloth indicates a more formal, professional mode - consider Diana’s many button-down shirts, or Matthew’s impeccably-tailored wool blazers. But when there’s some real emotional work to be done, you’ll tend to see knitwear front and center.

So, to come full circle then. As Diana's getting dressed for work in the archives, she's unquestionably still processing her feelings about this paradigm-shifting little exchange the other day.

And when she is preparing to think about the past, but sorting through her own emotions? It's no surprise that Diana reaches into her closet and comes up with her very first piece of knitwear: the cream-colored Cozy Cable-Knit Turtleneck of Vampire Backstory.

[ticktockstuck]

TTS Flag Friday: The District of Nocturne

The district flag of Nocturne is split into three triangular sections by a jagged orange border that crosses the flag in a “V” shape. The lower-left and lower-right triangles are both black and contain an outstretched hand, the left a troll’s grey and the right a leprechaun’s green. The central triangle is white and contains the national symbol of the seven-toothed cog, colored the same orange as the V-shaped border. The border has eight diamond protrusions that all point upwards into the white triangle’s space. The shape of the border is meant to symbolize disaster, partly by taking the shape of rising flames and partly by mimicking the shape of the Clockwork Network.

The design is inspired firstly by geography. The hands are colored according to Nocturne’s neighbor districts; from inside Nocturne looking towards the center of Tick-Tock Town, troll-majority Alterneo lies to the west and leprechaun-majority Emerald lies to the east, with Central lying beyond both of them.

The flag’s design is also meant as a promise to the citizenry of Nocturne, lost in the wake of the destruction caused by Clocknet. A promise that, in their time of need, they will be offered a charitable hand to guide them out of darkness, though their personal disasters, and into the light. In this reading the hands represent protection from all matters, physical, financial, or otherwise.

At the height of Tick-Tock Town’s development, it slowly started to expand westward along the coast, creating a pocket of buildings between Alterneo and the Emerald Quarter that matched neither the former’s stark brutality nor the latter’s extravagance. For this reason it was split from both into a new district, relatively small but as the city was still planning on growing it was expected that this little district would grow along with it. That district was named Nocturne, as it was (and is) the only district in the city not to share a border with Central (being metaphorically “in the dark”), with “oct” being a clever nod to its status as the eighth district. Shortly after its inception, however, that district would begin a long history of misfortune, tragedy, confusion, and unexplainable circumstances that would lead to the name most residents of Tick-Tock Town refer to it as today: Wrecked.

Nocturne had only a few years to set itself up, barely any time to establish an identity for itself outside of cultural hand-me-downs from its neighboring districts, before the city underwent the most important event in its history since its founding. The emergence of the Clockwork Network caused massive damage across the city, but few had damages on the level that Nocturne did. From the perspective of its inhabitants, the great machine passed over the Emerald Quarter and to make up lost time did double time on their side of town. The riches that the Emerald Quarter carried over turned to ruin, and any vicious streak descendent from Alterneo was declawed, all of it tumbling into the mechanical bowels of the worming menace.

Even before Clocknet trashed the district and made people wary of coming to it, citizens living in and visiting Wrecked could feel something off about the place. Nothing on the surface seemed wrong, but something invisible pervaded through the whole district, like a foul smell that can’t be placed or a noise that appears and disappears with no cause. People would usually lay some blame at the base of two famous landmarks in the district: the Black Dome and the Asclepius Clocktower. The former, a small park and grim rotunda topped by the titular dome; the latter, a two-faced tower in the shape of intertwined serpents. Both monuments from an outside perspective seem to be placed completely naturally but defy explanation upon closer inspection, namely their construction. As the buildings of Nocturne were erected, the two monuments seem to have simply appeared overnight while nobody noticed. Plans and blueprints for them exist at the district Vice-Mayor’s office, certainly, but no construction crew can claim to have built them and no artists have stepped forward to explain some of their stranger quirks, like the Asclepius Clocktower being completely silent and having no doors to enter it. They’re just...there, exuding an ominous aura onto the surrounding area and frightening away city residents who can’t even describe what they’re frightened of.

There are other factors to Wrecked’s wrecked reputation that are equally spiritual. It’s a district that citizens contradictorily call a haunted place and as one so eerie that even ghosts dread to haunt it (a statistically invalid claim; there’s just as many ghosts and demons here as anywhere else in Tick-Tock Town). People claim to hear whispers when nobody is around. They claim to see people running around at the corners of their vision that bear an uncomfortable resemblance to themselves or people they know. On electronic media they claim to speak to people that don’t really exist and can’t be found again afterwards. They make many claims of strange occurrences, all of them questionable, but as far as the city is concerned they’re nothing more than hearsay. They’ve had enough issues trying to get Wrecked back into shape and solving the tangible societal issues going on without worrying about imaginary specters or deconstructing why buildings exist.

The empty homes littering the district were emptying the city’s coffers, both from keeping them in a livable state and from kicking out the squatters moving in. Once word of Wrecked’s status as an ostensible ghost town spread, an influx of citizens desperate enough to brave its haunts and impoverished enough to lack any other options started to move in in droves. It became such a problem that the city considered a martial solution to keep homes available but thankfully for all parties involved, political or otherwise, a different solution was proposed. In an uncharacteristic turn of good luck, a recent series of political assassinations and intrigue ended with the current Vice-Mayor of Wrecked coming into office, and he was far more understanding of the citizen’s plight than prior holders of his title. Upon convincing the rest of the governing bodies of the district and the city that it would be more efficient economically to simply pay these wayward folk to maintain the houses in exchange for living in them (with government supervision and inspection, naturally), Wrecked instituted a massive overhaul of how it operated. The ultimate plan they went with made a lot of people happy, except for the city aristocracy who were (and are) still mad about it and to this day endeavor to have the policy revoked.

In a post-Reconstruction world, Nocturne is perhaps the plainest of Tick-Tock Town’s eight districts. There’s no great seats of power here, no communal ports, no magnificent factories, no elaborate bio-organic beautification, no labyrinthine vicious streets, no wild neon-lit boulevards, and no mystical schools of magic to be found. Its architecture was designed to be quickly-built and efficient over any aesthetic values, and with city aristocrats long since having scorned the district, any wealth has had to come from the ground up instead of being handed down. It’s a side of town that never had the chance to decide what it was before disaster ripped it apart, and it had to build its identity in misfortune’s wake. Few call by it by its true name even after its worst days ended. Some call it Wrecked with a sneer, dismissing it as a nowhere district for nobodies to languish in obscurity; others call it Wrecked with a smile, a wink and a nod towards the long struggles it has ceaselessly fought to overcome. It’s a humble lot that live in Nocturne: the orphaned, the unwanted, the unseen. They’ve all done their part to make a place where they can support each other in their personal crises, a place where they’re needed and taken care of, and a place that, above all else, they can call home.

[wtf-taeyong]

Guardian Angel | 1 | Park Jimin

Word count - 3.4k Genre - Angst, Angel!Jimin ft. Angel!Bangtan, Grim Reaper!Namjoon Warnings - Brief descriptions of murder

That’s right ladies and gents. I’m rewriting it. Finally.

Part 1 | Part 2 | ??

“Hi!”

Jimin blinked.

The room he was in was well lit, and almost cavernous in its majesty and grandeur. The ceiling seemed to be miles above him, and the walls were so far apart Jimin would have had to squint to see them if his sight was worse.

“Hello?”

Everything was made out of stone and it was bringing a chill to his skin. Goosebumps erupted over his flesh and his teeth were chattering before he realised he could actually control his body. Where the hell was he? This place wasn’t where he fell asleep.

“Are you… Feeling okay?” Jimin’s head swivelled to try and find the source of the voice, and was surprised when he spotted the man in front of him. How had he not noticed him before?

Jimin’s head felt fuzzy.

“Uh…” His tongue felt too heavy for him to use properly, but the man seemed to understand him anyway. “Yeah, that happens a lot. You’ll feel right as rain when you go back.”

“Back?”

“Yep! Back into your body. Although, of course, it won’t be quite the same, because, y’know, you died! It’ll be the same aesthetics, though!”

Jimin’s mind could have exploded.

“Sorry?” “What for?” “Did you say I’d…” He swallowed thickly. “Died?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry! It was a pretty tragic death, too.”

Jimin was bewildered. Perhaps this was all a terrible dream and he’d wake up wondering who the hell this person was and what he was doing in somewhere so… Weird.

“But don’t worry, one of our senior members died in pretty much the same way as you did so I’m sure you’ll do well here.”

“Where is here?” “Oh, right! Sorry, I’m so bad at my job, I get too carried away. My boss is getting annoyed with me. Well, I think he might be? He’s always pissed off, that’s just his face. I’m getting distracted again.”

The main in front of Jimin sighed in exasperation, and Jimin just stared up at him. He wasn’t sure what question to ask at all, there were so many. Was this some kind of subliminal messaging? Was Jimin going to die a tragic death soon and was this some kind of warning?

“Right, so, I’m Hoseok! I’ve been dead for a long time so if you have any questions about this, I’m your guy. Well, actually, I suppose all of us are… Irregardless, I’m your tutor! I’m excited, you’re my first student. Now it’s my turn to boss someone around!” Hoseok was grinning widely down at Jimin and for the first time Jimin realised he was sitting down on the cold stone floor.

Standing up, wincing as he regained feeling in his limbs, Jimin noticed that Hoseok was taller and leaner than himself, and there was something quite graceful about him despite being stative.

“It’s unusual for someone with your track record to be appointed here, but whatever! We can make it work. I’ll show you the ropes and I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

“Sorry, again, where are we? I don’t understand a single thing that’s going on. I’m dead?”

“You sure are!”

“How… How did I die?”

“You don’t remember? Oh, of course, you were asleep. It was pretty crap, truth be told. Your angel was pretty torn up. We’ve got him benched until he feels well enough but until then I think it’s best we keep the two of you apart.” “My angel?” “Yeah, y’know, your guardian angel. Duh.”

Duh.

Jimin’s head was swimming and he felt the beginnings of a migraine settle behind his eyes. He knew what guardian angels were, of course, but it was fucking weird discovering they were real. Unless this was all a huge prank orchestrated by someone with too much time and money on their hands.

Jimin didn’t think he knew anybody rich enough to rent out or own whatever this big ass room was.

“Anyway, yeah, you were stabbed to death. In your sleep, too, which is pretty bad. You probably don’t remember because you weren’t aware that you were dying, which I guess is a blessing. My boss said that you were likely to feel very groggy and kind of-”

Hoseok’s voice faded into the distance as Jimin’s ears filled with white noise. He couldn’t believe it. He’d been stabbed to death? That couldn’t possibly be right. Why would he have been?

He couldn’t think, and he couldn’t remember anything either.

He didn’t actually remember where he had fallen asleep.

His first instinct was to raise his hands to his face and feel around. That was his nose, definitely, and - he winced as he pinched his cheeks - that was his face. The eyebrows were right, and so was his eye shape, but why did it all feel so alien? Why did it feel extraordinarily like he was caressing someone else’s face?

Goosebumps erupted over his skin and his hands fell back to his sides. Hoseok was still talking all the way through this but Jimin’s attention went to the room. Maybe he could just leave while Hoseok was distracted.

He made four steps towards a promising looking door before a whole new voice interrupted them.

“Jimin…”

It was deep and honeyed and his head swivelled towards the man. The voice was achingly familiar but the face was completely new to him. He had no idea who this person was but his heart ached as if he should have. As if he should have known him right down to the freckles that decorated him and the pattern his veins made under his skin.

“You… You’re-” The man cut himself off, stepping towards Jimin carefully as if Jimin would suddenly attack him. He was also taller than Jimin and was lean in a way that was similar to Hoseok, who had finally gone quiet. “Do I know you?” Jimin asked gently, softening his tone as he took in the fragile way the man seemed to curl in on himself, his arms wrapped around his middle.

The man swallowed thickly, eyelids fluttering in a rather lovely way as he shook his head. He was very beautiful. Jimin didn’t think he would forget such a face.

“No, you don’t.”

All Jimin felt was confusion but when he looked to Hoseok for help, Hoseok was already looking at the strange man with a grave look on his face. By the time he looked back at the man, he had already moved closer to Jimin with shocking silence and speed.

A single trembling hand raised towards Jimin’s face and Jimin flinched away, raising his hand to try and bat it away. He was pretty, but Jimin wasn’t about to let a stranger touch his face.

“What the-”

“Sorry. Sorry.” He looked sheepish. “Just, can I? One last time?”

“What?”

Hoseok shifted slightly.

“I need to, just… For closure.”

Jimin was more confused that he had ever been in his entire life (and now his death?) but something about the look in the man’s eyes made him drop his own hand and allow his fingers to raise to Jimin’s face.

His fingertips glided over Jimin’s cheekbones with surprising softness, curling around his jaw to cup his face gently. The way he was looking down at Jimin made his cheeks flush warmly, but there was something about this golden man that made Jimin incapable to look away.

The man’s mouth curled up at the corners in the most tragically beautiful smile Jimin had ever seen and Jimin couldn’t explain the ancient sadness that erupted in his chest.

The hand was gone, and the man was turning and walking away before Jimin could even realise the change. Hoseok turned his head to watch the man go, and the man’s shoulders were slumped over, his head bowed like that of a kicked dog.

“Who… Was that?”

Jimin swallowed. His mouth was dry.

“That was Taehyung,” Hoseok supplied, his voice missing that excited lilt that Jimin had already learned to associate with him. “He was your guardian angel before you died.”

“I felt like I knew him.” “Well, you would. He was with you from the moment you were born until the very last second. He’s loved you your whole life.”

“Loved me?”

“Well, loves. I imagine he’ll love you for the rest of eternity.”

“Why is he so… Sad?”

“Jimin,” Hoseok said, derision in his voice as if the answer was obvious. Perhaps it was, but Jimin’s mind was struggling to keep up with the sudden onslaught of information. “He watched you get stabbed to death and couldn’t do anything about it. That’s enough to make anybody sad, don’t you think?”

“So this is my office!” Hoseok chirped, flinging open a door. Jimin stepped through tentatively. “Forgive the lack of anything interesting to look at, I only got it like three days ago. Yoongi didn’t give me any time to settle before he dumped your precious self on me.”

Jimin hummed, assuming Yoongi was the boss Hoseok kept talking about.

“It’s so weird. You’re literally the only person I have to tutor and do whatever with, and yet I’ve got no free time. What do I spend my time doing? I don’t even know. I spend a lot of time doing nothing but I’m always exhausted. Do you think I’m depressed? Jungkook used to say that Yoongi is depressed but really, maybe it’s secretly me. Yoongi is just a dick-”

“You called?”

Jimin was getting tired of meeting new people. He was equally tired of said new people popping up out of nowhere and scaring the crap out of him.

The figure in the doorway was intimidating physically, but had the face and the eyes of some kind of soft woodland creature. Jimin knew that the guy could crush him into a powder but it would probably be if Jimin stole his milk or woke him up from his nap.

“Ah! I was gonna come find you next! Jungkook, this is Jimin. He’s new.”

Jungkook stepped forwards with his hand outstretched, encasing Jimin’s much smaller hand and shaking it with a firm grip. His smile revealed cute little bunny teeth and Jimin had the sudden urge to call him cute.

Was this a maternal instinct? The dude was just so precious.

The instinct was quashed slightly when he threw his absurdly huge, muscular arm over his neck and crushed Jimin’s body to his own. It was solid.

“It’s good to have new people on the team. We’re kinda the outcasts of this whole shtick, but don’t worry. We’re also the coolest.”

“I don’t think being murdered counts as being cool-”

“Have you met the others yet? There are a tonne of us but there’s only a few really worth knowing. Hoseok is one of them I guess, but there’s, like, Yoongi. He’s scary as fuck, I swear, but he’s not so tough. He’s short, so how scary can he be? Although I guess you’re pretty short too-”

“-Jungkook, if he hears you telling the newbie that-”

“-What is he gonna do? Kneecap me? As I was saying, there’s also a guy called Taehyung and he’s really cool, too. Although he’s got a stick up his ass these days, he won’t play with me at all which is goddamn nuisance.”

“That’s enough.”

The room was suddenly cold and Jungkook retracted his arm from around Jimin’s neck like he’d been scolded horribly. Jimin could finally stand up straight without the weight of all Jungkook’s arm muscle crushing him into the ground, and he was too busy massaging the back of his neck to try and get the blood flowing again.

“Go back to doing whatever useless thing you waste your time doing, Jungkook.”

The young man nodded, casting Jimin a look with a single raised eyebrow. As he walked past Yoongi, he placed his hand in the air above him to show the overwhelming height difference and his eyes screwed shut as he grinned joyfully at Jimin. Jimin nearly burst all the blood vessels in his face trying not to laugh.

Then Jimin realised that he was basically the same height as the miserable looking man and his smile dropped.

“Jimin,” Hoseok said from behind him, rounding his desk to come and stand between the two of them. “This is Yoongi. He’s like the boss of this cheery little branch we have here.”

“Oh, right,” Jimin said. “I’m... Jimin.”

Did he have a surname? It was right on the tip of his tongue...

“Obviously.”

Jimin tried to ignore the biting tone of the man’s gravelly voice and the way it sent goosebumps up his flesh for the sake of his own mental wellbeing, and he glanced awkwardly at Hoseok whose sunshine smile was firmly back on his face. Hoseok was obviously used to Yoongi’s attitude but it took Jimin aback somewhat; weren’t angels supposed to be warm and lovely?

Instead all the angels he was meeting were either incredibly talkative, or in this case looked like they’d be better suited on the throne of Hell.

“Yeah, Yoongi is the one that had to go and get you from downstairs when Namjoon dropped you off. He’s also, y’know, in charge, so it’s his business to know everything about you. He probably knows more than you do.”

“So you know how I died?” Jimin questioned, turning his attention to the man who looked not even a minute away from letting his eyes slide closed.

“That’s a stupid question. Obviously I know how you died. If Hoseok knows, then I know.”

“Do you know who killed me?”

“You wouldn’t remember who it was even if I did tell you.”

“So you do know?”

“Are you naturally this dumb or is it a skill you’ve mastered?”

“A little bit of both, I think.”

“Interesting. I’ll be sure to add it to the file.”

Jimin raked his hand through his hair, somewhat disturbed by Yoongi’s absolute shield of sarcasm. Hoseok maintained his grin all the way through the exchange, the muscles of his face not wavering even once and Jimin wondered vaguely if he had to face exercises at the end of the day to relax his muscles.

“Can you tell me who killed me?” Jimin tried again.

“I could, theoretically.” Yoongi’s hands were clasped together behind him and the stance somehow made Jimin feel like Yoongi was really rather incredibly wise. His face was still set, but the longer Jimin’s gaze lingered on the man he realised how different he looked from the other two.

For starters, it looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Then Jimin noticed the cat-like slits to his eyes, and his somewhat downturned mouth in comparison to Hoseok’s, Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s natural smiles and soft features. On top of this, Yoongi was wearing the sharpest suit Jimin had ever seen and he was almost in awe at the sheer power and authority the short man exuded. Something about him told Jimin that he was impossibly old; there was an age to him and his features that Jimin couldn’t rationally explain, even to himself.

“Are you going to?”

“No.”

“Right, well,” Hoseok finally interjected. “What’s the plan for him? He’s met everyone relevant and I’m sure he’s gonna fit in pretty easily. But what do we do with him?”

Jimin shifted in discomfort at the fact that Hoseok wasn’t addressing him directly, but Yoongi’s sharp cat-like eyes slid over to Hoseok, who was staring down at some kind of clipboard. A part of Jimin was convinced that the pages were blank, and Hoseok used it for show. The tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth was a nice touch.

“I’m not sure he’d do well with Jungkook but we could try-”

“No,” Yoongi said, voice like ice. “He’s too new for that. Jungkook at least passed the exams, but I’m not sure he would.”

“There are exams?” Jimin questioned, already feeling the stress begin to build. He’d graduated college only a few years ago and now he had to do more exams? He couldn’t escape the crushing clutches of education even in death. What a terrible experience this was.

“Yes. Stop asking questions.”

Disgruntled, he rolled his weight onto one leg and tapped his foot slightly as the two others seems to have a telepathic conversation. He felt extraordinarily like he was some kind of pet, the way they talked about what to “do” with him. He wasn’t a stray cat, and yet, he felt like one.

“From the beginning, then?” Hoseok asked, rounding his desk again and taking a seat. He sorted through some papers. “Do we have enough time?”

“What’s time when you’re dead?” Yoongi drawled, hands deep in the pockets of his trousers. “I trust you’re capable, Hoseok.”

“Yeah, duh. I didn’t get this office by being crap at my job, now, did I?”

“You got this office because I gave it to you.”

“Shh. Don’t embarrass me in front of my student.”

Sighing heavily, Yoongi cast Hoseok one last look - though Jimin didn’t miss the flame of amusement in the depths of his eyes - and left the office without even looking in Jimin’s direction again.

“He’s pleasant.”

“Yeah. He’ll warm up to you over time.”

“How long did it take for him to warm up to you?”

“Depends! What year is it?”

“Well, it was 2019 when I died-”

“Wow, really? Wow. That’s- Wow.”

“Why? When did you die?”

“1902.”

“Jesus. You’re elderly”

“Yeah.”

Jimin picked at a hangnail. Hoseok was staring wistfully into nothing. “So, how come it took you so long to, like, get promoted? How long has it been? I’m bad at maths.”

“I’m also bad at maths.”

“Do you have a calculator?”

“I sure do. Hold on.” Hoseok yanked open a drawer and got the calculator out, pressing some buttons and then whistling lowly. “I’m old.”

“How long?”

“None of your business, little boy.”

Jimin laughed before he could help himself and Hoseok’s faux stern appearance cracked.

“Anyway, basically the plan is that we’re gonna start you from the very, very beginning. It’ll be like learning how to walk and stuff! You’re gonna have to go to classes and read books and all that boring shit before you have to take your exams and if you pass you’ll be assigned a human charge for you to look after.”

“Guardian angel school.”

“Pretty much, yeah. It’s gonna be boring and long but you only have to do it once - unless you fail - and then you can live the rest of eternity knowing all exams and studying is far behind you. Unless you pull a Namjoon and decide you’re never going to be done learning, y’know, like a nerd.”

“You’ve mentioned him before,” Jimin said, picking more earnestly at that annoying hangnail. “Who is he? Is he one of us?” Hoseok breathed a laugh, sitting back in his chair and lacing his fingers together over his stomach.

“Hoo, boy. One of us. Hmm. You make us sound like a cult.” Hoseok laughed, looking at Jimin with half closed eyes. “Namjoon is the Grim Reaper.”

“The Grim- He’s real?”

“I mean, he’s not really one entity, if that makes sense? There are lots of him. Thousands of identical people doing the same job that Yoongi nicknamed Namjoon just to make it easier for us.”

Jimin’s mind was blown.

“Wait, so, okay, I can kinda get that. There are lots of him. Are they all the same?”

“Yup. Same voice, same mannerisms, same thoughts and whatnot. A hive mind, of sorts.”

“Isn’t he- Aren’t they- Is he evil?” Jimin was having a hard time getting to grips with the concept of the Grim Reaper actually being a real thing, but he thought the Grim Reaper represented something bad.

He’d played The Sims. He’d watched the Grim Reaper in action and he’d lamented over the loss of a character he’d spent hours making. He was bitter.

“Nah, that’s just a rumour Yoongi started a few millennia ago when they had an argument. It bled into the human world which is quite funny, but honestly, Namjoon’s quite charming.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Anyway, enough chit-chat! We have so much work to do. I’m feeling frazzled. We should head to the library.”

“Before we go, can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing.”

“You got here in 1902 but you talk like… Like you got here recently. What’s up with that?”

“My last assignment wasn’t that long ago. Also, Jungkook is still active so I guess I’ve picked up his way of speaking? Not important; let’s go!”

With a jaunty stride, Hoseok vacated his office with Jimin hot on his heels, another question falling off the tip of his tongue.

Part 1 | Part 2 | ??

[aerithlylin]

「 development questionnaire 」

content warning for mentions of death and violence.

01. Tell us about your character’s name. Was it given to them or chosen? Does it hold any special meaning? If your character has aliases or nicknames, how did they get them and what do they mean?

aerith lylin is what was given to him at birth. though as he was growing up, he was known as aeri(th) lorus—referred to with his mother’s family name, in order to preserve his father’s position within jedi order. he readopted the lylin surname purely out of spite after his father left him alone on jedha. as for other names he’s taken along the way: valin avalor is the default name he gives when he doesn’t want to use his real one; it’s simply his parents’ names condensed—vale lylin and avadrie lorus. his nickname, aer, came from and is exclusively used by his friend vestir kano.

02. What is your character’s relationship to their homeworld? Do they hold fond memories of it, or do they hate it? Are they still here, and if not, do they miss it?

aerith’s relationship with jedha is bittersweet. but like, two parts bitter, one part sweet. he spent 22yrs there and literally nowhere else. he was tired of it and tired of the life he led there and it holds some really.,.,.,,,, Not Great memories for him. the chance to leave and see the galaxy came to him and he took it. he would be reluctant to return for more than just a temporary visit. but for all that it is, if there's anything he misses, he misses the vibrance of the culture.

03. Describe your character’s relationship with those who raised them. Was it positive? Negative? Neutral? What sorts of ideologies were they raised with, and do they still stand by them now?

aerith's relationship with his mother was really, really lovely, and his father truly cannot relate!!!!!! since avadrie was a guardian and that's what aerith ended up training for as well, she was there with him every step of the way. on the other end, he was virtually nonexistent to vale—aerith's birth had strained his relationship with avadrie, paranoid they would be found out and his position within the jedi order would be compromised. when avadrie passed, vale returned to coruscant and left aerith alone on jedha without a second thought, and aerith has never been anything but bitter about it. from that point master guardian inyri looked after him in some capacity. she was there to guide him through processing his grief and confusion, though he had all but abandoned their shared ideals.

04. What is your character’s relationship with the Force? Is your character Force-sensitive? Whether or not they are, do they believe in it? Do they lean more towards the dark or the light or are they somewhere in between?

as far as force-sensitivity goes, aerith falls somewhere in the middle of the spectrum. as a child, he was told he was blessed, and had he been just slightly more sensitive, he may have been chosen to train among the ranks of the jedi. he was raised in a temple no less, in an organization that valued the force just as much as the jedi did, so a belief in the force was ingrained in him either way. he learned to communicate with it, to read it, to let it guide him, but it never took root in him the way it did in others. he stayed because he knew nothing else and thought this was the life that had been set out for him. he stayed until he couldn't stomach it anymore, and still he was surrounded by it. by now he's pretty much cut himself off from it. he still feels it, like an itch beneath his skin. still calls to it in his most desperate moments. but he doesn't trust it.

05. What three word would you use to describe your character? What three words would your character use to describe themself? What three words would someone close to them use?

anxious, lost, a-damn-ass-fool-and-a-half

resourceful, eager, diligent

"""never stays put""

06. Describe your character’s aesthetic. Do they tend towards fashion or function? Do they like to accessorize? How does this extend into their own personal spaces, such as their home or their workspace?

aerith is purely fashion oriented. like…..,,...,..,, Purely. zero functionality. five layers of flowy ass head-to-toe crimson?? that’s just aerith shopping for fruit. he never quite got away from his a lot of his temple-born inclinations, even after bowing out of his discipleship and even after leaving jedha completely. his time as caretaker for the temple meant he often got tasks thrown onto him that no one else wanted to bother with, and that sometimes meant fixing up the damaged robes of guardians and acolytes. he was given access to an array of fabrics, all rich, deep reds, and so he took the liberty of creating something for himself every once in a while. another thing he managed to cling to is ceremonial makeup—something he learned from his mother and still practices to this day. he doesn’t do it for special occasions or anything, but more as something to pass the time when he’s bored and / or anxious. overall: structured, but creative. in every other area of his life, we called this an Organized Mess. "no, it's Supposed to look like that," he says.

07. What are your character’s vices? Guilty pleasures? Bad habits? Weak spots?

his vices, guilty pleasures, and weak spots are all vestir kano. also he picks at his scabs and wastes too much money on too many damn bracelets.

08. Tell us about your character’s relationship with food. What are their favorites? Do they enjoy cooking? Are they adventurous? Will they eat absolutely anything or are they hard to please?

aerith used to spend a considerable amount of time in the kitchen back at the temple. if he wasn't assisting with food-preparation, he was at least observing and sneaking bites when no one was watching. when he first started travelling with vestir, after 22yrs of only eating jedhan cuisine, he wasn't adventurous at all, and missed the tastes of his homeworld. he learned pretty quickly that he had to set that behind him and be more open to trying new things. obviously not everywhere they travel offers the same ingredients, so aerith has learned to adapt his favorite jedhan dishes depending on what's available to him. "FuSiON." — aerith lylin

09. How does your character feel about engaging in relationships—romantic and / or sexual—with others? What is their history like? Do they fall in love easily? Are they constantly in and out of relationships?

he’s ambivalent. aerith has never really sought out relationships that go beyond just platonic. especially after renouncing his position at the temple, he found it extremely hard to connect with those around him. in his time as the temple caretaker, there were a few short-lived flings with off-worlders who had come to jedha on pilgrimages (they sure did """"""find the force,""" huh), but they were always gone just as quickly as they had come. so it’s rare that he gets close to others, and in the one particular instance where he has managed to get close to someone, he’s found that he doesn’t quite know how to decipher his own feelings and pinpoint where they sit on the spectrum of platonic to romantic. vestir smooch challenge.

10. What is your character’s pain tolerance like? Can they hold their own in a fight, despite injury? If someone hurts them with the aim of gaining information, how much can they take before they cave?

his pain tolerance is fairly high. going from daily physically-taxing training to several years of physical labor, aerith has never been a stranger to at least something hurting. it got to the point that he just kind of learned to ignore it and live with it, and even when he receives more pressing injuries now, though he might show it in doses, it takes a lot for him to actually speak on his pain.

11. What is your character’s weapon of choice? Are they more skilled as a melee fighter or do they have more skill with ranged weapons? What’s their fighting style like? What sort of training do they have behind them?

aerith is most comfortable and most proficient with a lightbow. he never made it far enough in his training to construct his own, but when he left jedha, he managed to abscond with his mother’s. due to a moderate level of force-sensitivity, he showed promise early on, it was just a matter of actually honing his ability. though he has some experience and training with close-combat, he’s fallen out of practice and is only just revisiting what it means to use his body as a weapon. (it shows.) an Extremely Anxious Creature™, aerith relies a lot less on actually countering attacks and more just throwing hands like his lizard brain tells him and hoping it all works out. (many times it does not work out.)

12. Does your character have any words or catchphrases that they say frequently? Tell us about how they picked them up.

there's not really anything specifically? though he tends to use a lot of force-related imagery. things like "may the force of others be with you" and other guardians' mantras that never left him are something he uses ironically or sarcastically.

13. Tell us about a negative experience your character has had with either the Jedi or the Sith, and how this has affected their standing. Whether currently aligned or unaligned with either faction, if forced to choose, how would they side?

his father is a jedi and that's it, that's the negative experience. therefore they're all invalid and aerith joins the sith Solely to spite him once again. it might be ""the right thing to do"""" but joining the jedi is essentially a death sentence at this point, so.,..,........,,.. it's a no from aerith.

14. How would your character react to seeing a relative or friend on the opposing side of a battle or mission?

he hopes it's his dad so the man can sQUARE THE FUCK UP.

15. Describe a memory that your character finds embarrassing.

ha!!!!!!!!! let’s go out on a limb here and say the time aerith misread the situation and tried to lay one on vestir. naturally he realized that Mistakes Were Made like 0.3secs into it. 99.9% sure even he didn’t understand what his own damn self was trying to accomplish here. and so Naturally, he took off—as you do—and locked himself in his room and hid underneath the covers. could not even think about breathing in vestir’s direction for 72hrs. did not look him in the eye for an extra 48. but in this household we support the concept of giving aerith a redo.

16. What goals does your character hold for themself and what steps have they taken towards achieving them? How far are they willing to go to reach them? What is their be-all and end-all?

aerith,,..,,......,,. doesn’t have goals. like, he’s just hurtling through life and seeing where it takes him, really. if anything, he’d like to make himself considerably less useless to those who look out for him—i.e. vestir until recently and liora currently.

17. What is the one thing your character would change about their life if they were given the chance? What other lives could they have lived as a result?

he wishes there had never been an attack on the kyber temple. whether or not his father would have still left, his mother would have still been around. he would have been more inclined to continue his training, and might be a full-fledged guardian by now. it’s not that he’s unhappy with the path he chose, but it certainly isn’t what one would call an easy life.

18. Living in such a high-conflict time, how does your character feel about doing what they must to survive? Will they hurt or kill others—either directly or indirectly—to protect themself and / or those close to them? If so, do they regret it when all is said and done?

don’t let the facade fool you; he may seem like the “”uwu all life is precious”” type but aerith will fuckin' kill a man if he has to, and has. he’s not trigger-happy or anything but when it’s come down to keeping himself and—first and foremost—vestir alive, shit has in fact gone down. you want your skull bashed in with a pipe? lightbow bolt to the throat? threaten their safety and i got the man for you.

19. What is the biggest problem your character is currently dealing with?

learning to readjust to life without vestir, navigating the feelings that come with the situation at hand. trying to find his place and make his way.

20. Give us 3+ headcanons of any length or subject matter.

his favorite skill that he picked up in his time as the temple's caretaker is gardening. after living on jedha, he's mostly familiar with desert plants, but one of his favorite things about visiting other worlds is seeing what kinds of flora they have to offer. he will often purchase plants from the markets of worlds they pass through, but his room on the ship is hardly the place to sustain them. he still tries for as long as he can.

aerith has a kyber crystal he acquired in his early years as an acolyte that he keeps on his person at all times. he holds it in times of pain or anxiety, as its faint song helps to calm him.

aerith has a recurring dream / nightmare of the night the temple was attacked. it's always the same feeling of terror, and the same crushing weight weighing down on him. he wakes up with a sharp pain permeating beneath his scars.

bonus. Give us a list of any length telling us why our “fave is problematic.”

the galaxy’s number one vestir kano apologist

would sooner Die than put into words what he feels and what he wants

"""the force told me you're a dumbass bitch"""

aerith "daddy issues" lylin

is probably buying yet Another bracelet as we speak

requires 12 blankets and 73 pillows to sleep alone

will hide instead of confronting awkward situations

never puts things back where they actually belong

""i'M nOt FrAGiLE""" he says, proceeding to crack two ribs and break his hand

spends three hours putting on makeup only to take a nap

doesn't brush his fuckign hair

will sleep in his day clothes,, all five layers of 'em

aerith: i'm not needy i don't need you i'm finE it's FINE aerith, 5mins after vestir leaves: yes hello when are you coming home

[feixing02]

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((……so I was gonna do 250 of em because that’s how many emojis there are but I realized when i transfer from docs it doesn’t number everything. Also I’m tired of this sitting here. Soooo have like 175 lol

She’s got a handful of human teeth she kept that were gifts from crows.

Falls asleep on the RED base couch sometimes b/c she just wants to rest her eyes.

Never sleeps on the BLU base couch. Wilhelm is in the building.

Keeps a jar of sourdough starter.

The starter has been named Charles.

If all the flour gets used and she can’t feed it she will get antsy.

Doesn’t understand why people love their parents when the parents are shitty to them.

Says she doesn’t like coffee.

Doesn’t like coffee unless it’s mostly milk and sugar.

Secretly admires the Spies knife flippy skills.

Will do the ‘definitely not watching’ side eye if knives are being flippied in the vicinity.

Makes up hoverboard tricks on her spare time occasionally.

Does it in a closed room so her board doesn’t go flying away.

Makes lots of banging sounds against the wall as it slips from her feet.

Very good at peeling potatoes, cutting fruit, chopping veggies…

Was never taught to cook anything complicated.

Well versed in cooking basics, through.

Can draw faces pretty well.

Wants to take life drawing lessons.

Wants to see a musical on Broadway.

Is constantly uncomfortable if her hands feel dirty.

Keeps a lighter and cigarettes in her pockets.

Doesn’t smoke.

They’re for a certain disembodied head.

Or on the off chance someone asks for one.

Not very familiar with types of alcohol.

Doesn’t have much alcohol because she doesn’t like the sting.

Favourite fruit is apples, though she’s picky with them.

Red delicious is the favourite type of apple.

Do not give her a granny smith she will not eat it.

Really likes marbles as an aesthetic.

Owns a denim dress that goes down to her calves.

The dress is shaped kinda like a bag.

Fashionistas everywhere are horrified.

Really likes saltwater taffy.

Dislikes getting stuff stuck in her teeth.

Just suck on the taffy instead of biting it.

Bite ice cream and popsicles instead.

Has made kick the can ice cream on base.

If she gets a nosebleed while they’re not working she’ll just let it drip into a garbage can/sink until it stops.

Dislikes licorice.

Writes letters to James still when something troubles her.

Doesn’t send them.

Used to gross smoke smell.

Thinks glasses are cute.

Gives herself pretty janky haircuts.

Sometimes will remember stuff that makes her happy and just start giggling.

Doesn’t do it when around people much, since it looks a little crazy if you can’t see her thoughts.

Still gets uncomfortable watching people kiss in movies.

Or in real life, tbh.

Pain tolerance is pretty crap compared to the mercenaries.

Gets better as she spends more time in the gravel war.

Likes small spaces.

There’s a cupboard on BLU’s side that’s just big enough not to be uncomfortable she hangs out in.

It’s secret.

Will go there when she doesn’t want to be approached by anyone.

Mostly aimed at Wilhelm tbh.

The kind of person to take napkins from restaurants.

Lives in the middle of nowhere after the war.

Close enough to get groceries in a tiny town but no one knows her.

Continues to write letters to people on the teams.

Actually sends most of them now.

Lives with two cats.

Never finds out what happened to James.

((James dies from lung cancer and is in a p awful state because of his OCD.

Showers really late at night on base.

Takes her paintball gun and a towel to partially cover up.

Anybody try to sneak in and she will scream.

Tries to get Jean to stop chain smoking by offering candy.

Gets briefly addicted to the candy.

Goes traveling for a while after gravel war ends.

Knows a bit of Mandarin.

Doesn’t eat apples by just chomping down on one.

Will always chop them into slices first.

Dislikes oranges.

Makes loaves of bread to add to their supplies sometimes.

Makes cookies and different pastries often once she realizes she has tons of people to eat them now.

Don’t have to worry about making too much.

Likes the routine of baking.

Terrible at lying.

Bad about making breakfast.

Is too lazy to do much in the morning.

Would rather spend the energy on work.

Dislikes tea.

Unless it’s mostly sugar.

Wears a scarf and beanie when it’s cold.

Likes the comfort of really heavy blankets.

Will be really uncomfortable if blankets are too light as she’s trying to sleep.

Drinks a full glass of water as part of her morning routine.

Doesn’t know how to shuffle cards.

Doesn’t know how to play poker.

Developed a habit of keeping her back to the wall.

It’s pretty unconsciously enforced at this point.

Good at folding clothes.

Good at cleaning in general.

Dislikes cleaning in general.

Bad at improvising.

Gets anxious when forced to improvise.

Doesn’t know how to drive a car.

Wouldn’t be a good driver if she ever learned.

Didn’t see the stars until she was out in New Mexico.

Too much light pollution in the cities.

Spiders look cool to her but she’s still got some level of arachnophobia.

Likes how suits look on guys.

Has a habit of ordering lots of food and just slowly chipping away at it.

Would probably not eat enough if she weren’t doing exhausting work every day.

Likes honey on toast.

Cautious of all animals.

Loud chewing is especially gross to her.

If you stick gum anywhere other than the garbage she will silently judge you.

She’s had to clean too much of that for it not to give her flashbacks.

Shortest among the teams.

Reads those really cheap romance novels.

Prefers crunchy to soft food.

NO MAYONNAISE.

Favourite books are “Daddy Long-Legs” by Jean Webster and “The Adventures of Perrine (En Famille)” by Hector Malot Adapted by Edith Heal.

Goes out flying at night sometimes so that she can do it without the risk of being shot.

Keeps cassette tapes.

Knows how to make lao puo bing (sweetheart cake).

Has issues writing things that are interesting to read.

She can do formal and functional but expressing feelings is hard.

Rarely wears dresses, likes them but they’re not as convenient.

Thinks marriage could be nice but isn’t super hung up about it.

Makes lists to organize things she has to do.

Forgets stuff easily if they don’t have to do with other people.

Sings in the shower.

Is a bit of a crybaby but mostly in private.

She makes a point to run the fuck away or suppress that shit in front of peeps.

Modern AU (kid version)

Loves Hamilton.

Probably said to Dr. Humboldt at one point, “I have the honour to be your obedient servant.”

Likes her job as a receptionist.

Continues to take transit for like over an hour to work there even as her residence changes.

Her penny board is red with white trucks and blue wheels.

Pretty into battle tetris.

Isn’t great at it but plays a lot on the school computers when she can.

Favourite candy is Hi-Chew.

Never been to a sleepover.

Hasn’t ridden a bike.

But could probably figure it out in like ten minutes.

Buy her a frappuccino it’s her favourite.

Will sit outside clothing shops and sketch what’s in the display.

Knows how to make paper stars.

Wants to learn piano.

Has a lot of celebrity crushes on comedians.

Pretty clueless about current events.

Knows the public transit system super well.

Deity AU

Likes splashing around in water.

Especially with her wings out.

Will take opportunities to land on Diva’s head in pigeon form.

Sitting on people’s head as a birb is funny to her.

Mortals don’t understand what her birbs are saying unless she wants them to.

It just sounds like normal bird sounds.

Cue pigeon following her friends around and reciting the Bee movie.

Has a hoard of pretty marbles.

Shapes them when she’s bored.

Gives marbles as gifts sometimes, just as like a pretty thing.

Writes things and pins them up in her trees.

Sometimes poems she’s seen and likes.

Steals glass bits from mortals to hang up in her tree.

There’s some wind chimes up there too over the years.

She likes the sound.

Will sometimes talk to stray cats about her troubles that she’s too nervous to talk to Diva about.

Tells him about James this way.

Sometimes checks in on Ludwig secretly through gift eyes when she misses him but doesn’t want to approach for whatever reason.

Feels bad about it because it feels like spying.

Has a pile of gifts she made but hasn’t given yet.

Actually is pretty rich off of her job.

Even if she’s not paid much, Penna barely ever spends the drachmas on anything.

Wears backless sweaters in the modern age.

Gets a bit of a ‘hoard shiny things’ compulsion as time goes on.

Sometimes pretends to be an injured bird so humans will pick her up.

Meets James in 1840s.

Doesn’t tell him she’s a god.

Eventually kills him with Diva.

Touches her torc as a nervous reaction to be reassured that Divitiae was there for her.

[domesticmail]

I Can’t Stop Thinking About You - tom holland || part one

[two] [three] [four] [five] [six]

It had been a long time since you’d spoken to him. Years, in fact. What were you even supposed to say?

   Tom Holland was one of your closest friends once. He had played a major role in your life for a little while, someone you could confide in and have fun with.    You started off your life not knowing he existed. You were both in the same elementary school classes, walking among your friends without having a clue about the little boy acting confident to gain your attention (not that it ever worked; you were very oblivious). In middle school, you ended up in different classes, and although he saw less of you, he held the same feelings about you. No matter how far you were from each other, he always managed to catch your eye in the halls, but the moment was fleeting – you would soon return to scanning the hallway, and he was left staring at your face.

   At the time, you weren’t even thinking about him. You two had one conversation once about a mutual friend, and that was it. You were now busy with your full-time job as a doormat for the said mutual friend, Lottie Alger. She was, to put it lightly, a total snob. Lottie was the type of girl who attracted others to her with her ‘F*** you, this is my life if you don’t like it, leave,’ attitude.

   You and Lottie had met in fifth grade when you moved to London. You were a bubbly, awkward kid who just liked to be friends with people, but had a tendency to get clingy and protective over certain close friends of yours. Lottie was stuck-up, snotty, and liked to get her way, and already had a best friend, a girl named Gracie who eventually left Lottie for you. Lottie immediately resented you – she saw you as a threat. She watched you carefully and figured out that you were someone who liked to praise others, liked to be a support system. When Gracie dropped you as well, Lottie swooped in and took advantage of you. She pretended to take you under her wing, but in reality, she used you.

   It went on like this for years. Whenever Lottie felt threatened, you came in and inflated her ego. She was very secretive about how she used you, but you always knew something was off. You wanted to be Lottie’s confidante, her second-in-command, but it seemed like there was always someone who was one step ahead of you, who Lottie trusted more, who was better than you in every way.    

   That said, Lottie was not the most aesthetically pleasing young lady. You had always been much better looking than her, no matter what she tried. So instead of trying to be better than you herself, she took the easier route and became best friends with people who you thought were better than you. It didn’t matter what they were better at – being pretty, having a lot of money, or having a lot of friends – Lottie just wanted to keep you in a corner.

   Enter the last year of middle school, and your parents are warning you more and more about Lottie’s behavior. She’d recently become close friends with a girl named Becca, whose parents were rich but on the edge of divorce, and who was extremely kind to you. When you finally became tired of constantly being the #2 friend, you realized you had nowhere else to turn. You’d spent so much time trying to earn Lottie’s friendship that you had entirely neglected to make other friends.

   So you didn’t try to make new ones. You pretended to still be Lottie’s friend but stopped trying altogether. You never made plans that she would eventually cancel, never asked her how her day was, never asked to hang out. Settled for being a surface friend.

   Middle of that year, you were walking out of a class by yourself and spotted a guy named Harrison who you knew well enough to have a conversation with. By Harrison’s side is Tom, who smiles when he sees you and introduces himself. “I’m Tom,” he says, and that’s it. You’re stunned. His accent sounds completely unique to you, even though it’s the same as everyone else’s, and his eyes have captivated you. You know you’ve seen him before, but it’s not enough. You want to be with him all the time, and your heart flutters at the thought.

   Before long, every time you walk out of that class, you meet up with Tom and Harrison. The days when Harrison was absent – which were few – you had the pleasure of walking only with Tom. And yet, no matter what you did, you never became close enough to get his number. You were only surface friends, just like with Lottie.

   At the end of the year, everyone was crying save for you. You were ready to get out and never have to see Lottie again. The thought of it thrilled you, and your smile alone could make a dead man jump from his grave just to ask to see it again. You looked radiant on that day, and when it was time to sign yearbooks, Tom spotted you, and he swore his heart stopped for a moment. He didn’t have the time to compliment you, though, because he was popular (due to his confident, kind personality), and there were people around him asking to sign their book.

   You didn’t have many friends, so you were kind of alone, and you wandered from group to group, getting signatures mostly from people who felt they owed you one out of politeness. When you went back to sit on the bleachers, Tom happened to be getting a break, and you asked to sign his yearbook. He handed over his and took yours, and you signed, “You’re awesome. We should definitely hang out! Love, Y/N L/N. ###-###-####” He signed yours, “It was fun talking to you! HAKAS!” and that was it. You traded yearbooks and you quickly walked away, hoping what you had written wasn’t too much. Your hands were shaking slightly and your face was blushing at the thought of him maybe possibly texting you.

   When you went home that night, you reminded yourself that you barely knew each other and he probably would ignore what you wrote, forgetting you forever. A trait you had ingrained in yourself from the days catering to Lottie’s every need: you were an insignificant speck, and someone spending their time speaking to you was an honor.

   The next morning, you woke up to a text from an unknown number.

   ###: hey y/n! it’s tom

   You blushed again, and your younger sister warmly reminded you to put your phone away or else she’d tell on you.

   You two texted each other all day, every day, for the rest of the summer. You were quick friends, complete opposites. While you presented yourself as loud and fun-loving, on the inside you were quiet and nervous, and self-deprecating. Tom, on the other hand, was confident and outspoken, making sure he never hurt others unless they deserved it. You were the perfect pair, having each other’s backs no matter what.

   One day nearing the end of summer, Tom and you were at your house when the topic of Lottie came up. It hurt you to talk about her, whether in a good or bad way. Your parents constantly reminded you when the topic came up that she had emotionally abused you – but this just made you cry. It didn’t matter what she had done to you because there was still a little part of your heart that told you she was still your friend, that you still wanted to be around her, and it only upset you to say that she abused you.

   Even the word ‘abuse’ made you cry when you thought about it.

   You and Tom were sitting at a table in the basement of your house, and you were in a moment of emotional instability. You were vulnerable, and in this state, you let it slip that she hurt you mentally, and you had problems because of it. Tom, being Tom, nodded and listened to you speak, knowing that it helped, but he harbored feelings for Lottie – she and he had been talking all summer as well, and he knew she wanted to ask him out.

   In the end, you and Tom stopped talking. He told you he was dating Lottie, but he still wanted to be friends with you. This time, you stopped being the fake Y/N for a second, and let yourself be quiet and anxious, and agreed. You two hadn’t spoken since. There were a couple attempts on his part, but you avoided him and Lottie completely. When you ended up in the same Bio Honors class in the first year of high school, you pretended he wasn’t there. When your friends wanted to talk to him, you silently excused yourself, and if someone asked where you were going, you told them you needed to use the restroom.

   It went on like this for the rest of high school. Tom would try and talk to you, but you rejected even the idea of speaking with him. He had betrayed you, in your mind. You had opened up for the first time in a long time, and he responded to it by dating your abuser. He had proven to you that, just like Lottie had shown you years before, opening up to people got you hurt. With that, you stopped being open. You became fake once again, always smiling and happy even though you really weren’t. 

   By your first year of college, you were doing pretty average, and by your junior year, you were a relatively well-off 21 year old, with your own apartment and everything. You had moved back to LA from London, mainly for your job. In fact, you could pay the bills because of your nice job. It was at one of the big six accounting firms, and as a registered CPA you made good money (your certification in Excel helped a little). You were dating a good guy who was very respectable and had a lot of money that he inherited from his parents, and he never forgot your anniversary, always paid when you went out to dinner and had bought you a car for Valentine’s Day.    In other words, life couldn’t have been better for you. Your boyfriend’s name was Ben Carlyle, and tonight he had taken you out to a fancy five-star restaurant for dinner, and then to see a movie afterward. Here, we enter our story.

   You and Ben were sitting at a table by the window, so you were able to look out at the stars while you chatted about simple matters of life. You were regulars at this specific place, so you didn’t even have to order; they simply brought you your food.    Ben smiled at a passing waitress, one who served you two often, and commented, “Tonight seems especially beautiful, doesn’t it?”    You liked that about him. He seemed to always notice the little things. Very detail-oriented.    “It does,” you responded. “I wonder why.”    “Probably because I’m sitting here with you, my beautiful girlfriend, while we watch the stars, not getting interrupted every two seconds.”    You nodded and grinned. “Probably.”    Your food was served, and as you ate, Ben’s watch caught your eye. Your mind flitted back to Tom. It was a watch like the one he used to wear, simple but elegant. You remembered that he was an actor now, playing Spiderman. Choking back a gag, you remembered Spiderman’s uncle is named Ben. Gross coincidence.    What would it have been like if Tom had dated me instead? You asked yourself. I’d still be in London, a mother of three struggling to keep her own, unhappy with her husband.    A comment from Ben snapped you out of your thoughts. “Y/N? What is it?”    “Sorry, what were you saying? I zoned out a little.”    Ben raised an eyebrow. “I was talking about the carbonara. It tastes different this time.”    You shrugged. “Who knows what it could be?”    You two continued on in the conversation, paying no mind to the small commotion arising as someone entered the restaurant. You looked up only to see a swarm of paparazzi surrounding a clearly important person (read: a hot superstar). “Who is that?” You mumbled to Ben.    As he took his next bite, he remarked, “Just another star, I bet. They like these types of places.”    You just nodded half-heartedly. You were now paying much more attention to the group of people, and as they dispersed, your heart dropped in your chest.    Tom Holland was waiting to be seated, and as he stood there chatting away with the gorgeous young woman next to him, you made eye contact.