#ah time to romanticise humanity again

[drunk-poets-society]

On our way to the theatre we were in the bus and talking our usual nonsense and this group of guys sitting behind us was also talking amongst themselves and then my pal said something along the lines of “why do they have a New Mexico wasn’t one enough” and we obviously started laughing at that and the guys behind us overheard it and started laughing as well, and we kept expanding upon the joke which elicited fresh sprouts of giggles and I don’t think they could help overhearing us because all of us were giggling like mad people. I think they realised that we realised that they were laughing at our jokes and my sides started hurting from laughing so hard and then I said “I’m gonna jump out of this window” and my friend, the absolute comedian, slid open the window and all of us fell into such hysterics that we kept laughing till we reached our stop and the bus driver made it a point to actually tell us that our stop had arrived in case we were too engrossed in our shenanigans lmao

[pynkhues]

YOU ARE AN INCREDIBLE WRITER. It's insane how fantastic you are, and this fic is just amazing, it's even more amazing than I anticipated. I'm leaving a comment on the fic itself, so I'll save the odes for that. :)

The way you describe what Lestat endures with Magnus is so (suitably) horrific even though it's not graphic. I feel like there might be something very wrong with me for even asking this question--grateful for anon lol--but your fic is already haunting me and I know I'm going to obsess over this if I don't ask, despite my embarrassment. So--can I ask, with the physical assaults, were you imagining that Magnus took enough "care" (if that's even the right word to use in such a grotesque context) that Lestat wasn't badly physically injured/in severe pain from that specifically, or would he have been in significant pain from that during that week, or would Magnus perhaps use his own blood to heal enough damage that he did so that he could do it all over again the next night?

Again, sorry, I feel like a freak for even asking, but I think it's that your fic is so so so vivid that it's making me wonder about very specific things.

Thank you!! Ah, I'm so glad it not only lived up to, but exceeded expectations!

And don't be embarrassed! I kind of knew as soon as I decided to write it that I wanted to follow Anne's beats in the novel. It meant I had to expand them and rearrange a few, ultimately, because the show's extended the timeline from two nights to a week, and you have the added component of the fact that the vampires couldn't have sex in the early books (although Anne basically retconned that in later books), and obviously can in the show. So that really guided my decisions in how I wrote it.

(Below a cut just because of the nature of it).

As a result, there were a few things at play for me. First and foremost, I knew I wanted to explore this sense that Lestat's feelings evolve really dramatically over the course of that section of the book, from abject human horror at Magnus' monstrousness, to as he puts it, loving Magnus very deeply and feeling loved by him, despite the fact that Magnus is putting him through something unimaginably awful and Lestat never consents to the turning, even at the very end when it's inevitable.

I kind of thought a lot about the show's approach to the books in that sense too, and how much it leans into the elements of memory and the odyssey of recollection, and when I thought about it that way it made sense to me that Lestat would probably retroactively romanticise his turning as a means of surviving it. Lestat's an artist, he's a performer, y'know, but he's also prone to slipping on rose-coloured glasses in general and focusing on the things he finds - or can make - beautiful to navigate his own immortality. He also never processes anything, ever in the books, just goes into long sleeps, and while I know that annoys some, personally I think it's really (probably the wrong word to use in this context, haha, but) fun on a narrative level. It opens up a lot of room for narrative conflict, particularly between Lestat and Louis (and Armand!) who have all collectively and separateley experienced enormous amounts of trauma.

The other things that really struck me as I re-read that section of the book is a) how drunk Magnus gets him - - because he gets him really drunk before he comes back to him in the tower, and b) the fact that Magnus only seems to get angry at Lestat when Lestat calls out for God (the 'I'll feed you to the wolves of hell' line is actually a direct quote from the book, and it's the last time Lestat calls to God that Magnus really hits him and knocks him to the ground), the rest of the time he mostly just seems to be amused by him.

This is a very roundabout way of answering your question, but I guess in my head Magnus was probably more brutal on some nights than others, and only even attempted to prepare or care for Lestat by getting him drunk, which both would've made him more pliant and would ultimately affect how disoriented he was and what he would remember. The fact of that I think has probably only been compounded over time as Lestat's twisted up his own spotty memories into something he can live with.

Like, Magnus is one of the most traditionally monstrous monsters in the book, not just for what he does to Lestat, or the fact that he demolishes the blond boy population of 1700s France, but he steals the dark gift in the first place. I tried to get this into the fic, but couldn't quite make it work, but Magnus becomes a vampire by chaining one up while they're in a deep sleep and waking them up only to force himself on them. His own turning was another act of violent rape he inflicted, and so I had that in my head too as I was writing it.

[sunnyrifle]

Ginji's character (ramblings)

night's the strongest for brainrot

⚠️⚠️unedited, also NO ONE in this conversation is a native english speaker (some parts were translated or held in other languages as well)⚠️⚠️

Akira: … well it depends on who you're relating more as a character as a reader. I am impressed to see someone who is relating to Ginji as a character-- a scarily smart person-- KongMengDo: Ginji is not only extremely intelligent, but he is also a very cruel man. He's a brutal man, a man of enormous ambition, and it's certainly difficult to sympathize with him as an extraordinary human being, but lately I've been thinking about how much Ginji cared for Morita, and how even a man like that is capable of such fragile emotions as love… Akira: aah yes that's exactly my own draw to the Ginji as a character as well-- KongMengDo: But I'm afraid that my thoughts will lead me to misinterpret the character of Ginji. I need to keep a good balance…

Akira: I was reading it from the perspective of Morita up until the mahjong arc, where Ginji was cruel to ask Morita to die (kill himself), but I saw this as such a pure declaration of love I couldn't handle not falling into GinMori then haha;;

before mahjong arc: ah Morita's having a young love crush on this smart mentor figure he's found, Ginji's of course smart and cool and wealthy, so a naive young man would want to both respect and learn from him as well as keep his tender young love close after mahjong arc: Ginji's as little in control of everything as Morita-- maybe he intended to use Morita for a heist or two, now Ginji's probably impressed of Morita making such a huge progress in so little time, he can depend on Morita in high stakes deals he wasn't capable to participate in without a trustworthy partner;;

and then we see the scene about that villain old man talking about cages and people he keeps in them and their treatment, Ginji is as taken aback by this as Morita in the scene itself;; so he didn't know, he is on the equal terms with Morita, though he has more experience than him-- which he doesn't hesitate to share! in his cruel way…

"See, this isn't the kind of deal you can handle with regular methods, such pressure can only be handled with equal resolution-- so die, Morita" <-that's a solid proclamation of utter caring and love in my eyes lol;; I mean thats the cruelest we see Ginji so far right? It can't even compare to Ginji "breaking up" and leaving Morita at the hospital rooftop-- and such a strong emotion is totally catching your eye as a reader I think this is my root of Ginji's method of loving being the cruelty-- at least that's how I work with these characters what if Ginji just searched for an equal partner to handle him;; that's a romantic type of thing instead of straight and direct partnership in business ah well, that's just how I romanticise them 🥰 🥰 doesn't mean I'm that close to canon of course! just sharing the thoughts for fun

KongMengDo: Ah, that scene--Ginji giving Morita the knife… I was mesmerized by this scene too. It's a scene in which Ginji reassures Morita ("You don't have to suffer the pain of being treated like an animal. If you lose, don't worry about me, just die in peace.") while also referencing the nature of gambling that Morita had mentioned earlier. The essence of gambling, Morita said, is the act of jumping off a cliff. Morita said that the essence of gambling is the act of jumping over a cliff without knowing how wide the distance between the cliffs is. (I don't have the scene in front of me right now, but it's probably close.) Yasuda heard this and labeled Morita as reckless. Ginji, however, sympathizes with Morita, and says that only Morita who thinks like that can win at Seikyo Mahjong. However, in the middle of the game, Morita loses his composure and plays mahjong in a death-defying situation. So Ginji gives Morita a knife, reminding him once again of the nature of gambling! So this act of Ginji's is an act of consideration for Morita, and it shows that Morita is the only one who can understand Ginji's mind… (If it were Yasuda, he would have yelled at Ginji, "Are you out of your mind?")

Akira: I'll be completely insane and say that when Yasuda says they're both reckless I usually think of Ginji and Morita just laughing it off like "yeah! we are!" and going to drink somewhere just two of them lol;;; I mean their characters are very consistently bouncing off of each other like that-- its truly a miracle for Ginji to find someone so close to him in mindset yet not corrupted by horrible experiences yet, that he openly admires Morita's principles and says so aloud as well

I mean the first part of the manga was trying to show us the "Ginji's looking for a successor" kind of plot, so it makes sense;; "oh I wish someone would continue my goal even as I get senile" kind of thing, but then it turns around-- then its Morita in danger in serial killer arc and Ginji's no longer "who's going to inherit my life's work?!" kind of way-- Ginji's saying "I want to rule this country Together" instead

well, thinking of finding someone decent to continue what you were doing and maybe adding their new touch to your work is one thing; its totally different when you want to see and participate in it directly, it means you'll be totally involved and want to collaborate- it becomes personal with the person you've chosen so I think its a natural progression of Ginji and Morita becoming closer too this shift in Ginji's wishes and plans on Morita I mean

what could've caused it is up to interpretation: it could be Morita being in first grave danger (my CP mind whispers), it could be Ginji being impressed by so called luck he saw (all crossroads were green when I drove here), or even Morita just being the sole surviver due to his natural street smart thinking as well

it could be Ginji gambling too-- he could've sensed that maybe Morita really has the potential and he is worth investing into-- but wasn't sure enough of it yet, but still wanted to see it go further-- "yeah maybe he's just lucky and maybe he's alright-- anyway he can't just die here", which leads us to Ginji putting up yet another test period on Morita (hence art critic and poker arcs) where he just wants to see if Morita truly has not only the potential but also the motivation to progress and get polished as well; or will he be just depending on Ginji leading him (which is totally not a strong character as well as not what Ginji was looking for-- just an apprentice to teach? yeah 'Tetsuo' isn't a name he deserves then, or something like that haha)

KongMengDo: Early on in the manga, when Ginji says he's looking for a successor (in GtK volume 2? before the killer Ariga shows up), the successor he's referring to is not his own, but some other old man's. But for some reason, FKMT scrapped this canon - it's kind of a MacGuffin! Of course, later in GtK, Ginji does refer to Morita as the heir to his kingdom… But since fkmt scrapped the "Ginji is looking for an heir to inherit what belongs to some old man" canon, we'd have to say that when Ginji tested Morita, he was just trying to figure out if he was a useful human being. Akira: oh rly? i have to check, it can be some kind of translation issue as well!! KongMengDo: It's probably for sure! I'll have a search on the Japanese wiki…

Akira: ultimately it backfired on him, I'm sure Ginji didn't think Morita would leave him and retire-- he must've been head in the clouds due to all the success they've shared so far-- I think Ginji was a bit too self absorbed to see that he is still practicing his old bad habits even if he already knew Morita is a special deal-- "ah I'll still pretend he's my student and teach him through cruelty, because that's how its comfortable for me" because I bet it worked out for Ginji before, I bet he knows how to manipulate, gaslight and predict people-- if only he'd stop and think of Morita being not like other people he swirled around before hehe-- because as soon as Morita got hit with the thought of "no, actually, Ginji is not right in his ways, actually I can see he got lost in his pursue of becoming the greater evil" (<- this is the point my CP mind starts thinking Morita would probably feel the "if you love someone, let them go" kind of way, just because it'd be too painful to see Ginji burning down to ashes when pursuing his dream in front of Morita's eyes) as soon as Morita got hit with this thought (sorry, I sidetracked a lot), he immediately knew what to do, unlike anyone else who'd start overthinking or self doubt their way because that's how manipulating someone usually works- you make a person think your way instead of a natural straightforward and easy to see way that would've occurred to anyone who is not involved

KongMengDo: I completely agree with this! And I want to add to this, Ginji not only trusted Morita to be easily manipulated, but he also trusted his own coolness. "Morita is my successor and partner, of course, but he is not a very important person to me… Of course, it would be a great pity if he disappeared, but I can always find a replacement." In other words, he was an arrogant man. Even if he had lost Morita, he hadn't realized that he would also lose his dreams! If he had known that would happen, he wouldn't have let Morita go so easily…

Akira: what is impressive in GtK as a story is that up until the end of Kamui arc its very predictable in its direction for the reader: ah a young man finding a tutor, then Morita's character development, then they're doing this together, and Morita would learn and then succeed, he's be gold to the silver and that's a happy ending…! but its a great subversion of expectations for the reader, because epilogue of Kamui arc should've been a pat on the shoulder, Ginji saying "yeah I'm sorry for putting you through this" and Morita saying "yeah.. that was tough…", have tears in his eyes but resolution to continue, as if saying "I knew it'd be this tough and I'm ready to follow you to hell and back anyway! thats my way of living now and I'm taking full responsibility over this decision" except that's totally not his decision and instead Ginji would've been successful in manipulating the other;; so yeah it's amazing he was resilient to this! and broke things down and retired it was the perfect moment for this, even if it was heartbreaking for everyone I rly like to think Ginji was put on spot with Morita's declaration of retirement and just went along the flow ignoring his own feelings haha "Ah you're retiring? whatever you'll return, or even better- I knew everything would end this way! so I'm the last to laugh anyway" and he gets out of the room even before Morita can elaborate or they would talk it through--

KongMengDo: That's right, he was ignorant of his feelings too! Ginji knew about Morita, but… He was ignorant about how he felt about Morita! I think of this as arrogance… "I don't love others, I wouldn't do such a stupid thing."

Akira: and Morita is generous enough to let Ginji go and let him think whatever he'd like to, maybe that's Morita's last act of caring for Ginji too-- "ah, if he'd hate me for leaving so suddenly, its fine… I'll cheer for Gin-san from the sidelines, but I'll find my own way… because the one I was following up until now would only end up in me watching Ginji turn to ashes and I don't think I can handle it" obviously Morita knew he'd get corrupted sooner or later with working under true scum villains too-- but I don't think that was his main motivation for leaving obviously its like this: working for Kamui is awful, I can feel my own principles not aligning with Kamui's leader at all -> he's Ginji's acquaintance, they are connected in one way or another -> I don't think I can handle working like this for much longer -> besides that I can see Ginji would not last much longer chasing a dream with such methods -> Ginji won't back down now, I can't just talk it through, it's already too late to change his track record and way of achieving his goals -> then the only thing I have control over is myself and I surely won't wait until the point of no return as well haha I think my interpretation is getting far fetched the longer I talk lol;; but I am just a mix of canon and CP thoughts! I hope it's interesting anyway--

KongMengDo: I think the biggest reason Morita retired was because he realized what it meant to be a villain. All along, Morita didn't want to be a poor, weak, good guy. Instead, he wanted to be a cool villain. In Morita's eyes, this villain might have looked like dark hero, but being a villain was something really disgusting… Morita realized that in the kamui episode, and he was afraid that if he worked with these villains for much longer, he would lose his humanity… Moyo-san told me, iron rusts easily when exposed to blood. Morita's iron-like features, his upright and pure heart, would be spoiled by exposure to cruelty… Morita was afraid of that, and Ginji allowed Morita to leave him. I think Ginji's choice was made because, unconsciously, he loved Morita's humanity, his innocence. So this is really a huge love… It shows that the love they have is huge because they chose to separate…

Akira: aah iron rusting in blood is such a strong metaphor--!! also yes I truly think Ginji's lack of control shows further in Kamui as well, I bet he didn't plan ANYTHING to turn out like this-- not only Morita retiring but also Morita getting in touch with Kamui this personally close, learning everything about family as well as participating in bloodshed directly as well-- yet he pretends awfully for his own sake of not losing it all too-- "of course! Morita would not handle such thing… well it's his loss… I can do it alone like before…" <- totally awfully misunderstanding his own feelings and ignoring them-- because I too think that Ginji rly wanted Morita's white principles to continue shine, he didn't want Mori to get corrupted as well-- so of course he'd let him go as soon as Morita would make his mind… he didn't know he would (I think Ginji would like to hide behind his cruelty when its convenient for him to), yet when he heard Morita speaking up his mind of course he'd accept his retirement-- because well you can't make a bird sing in a cage;; I think Ginji's heart would break to see Morita being by his side out of guild or anything else but Morita's pure trust and wishes

Akira: awful 1994 heartbreak doesn't leave our minds and makes a decent amount of people insane as a result…!!! KongMengDo: Yes, Morita was indeed a man with a heart of gold---….

[borathae]

↳ Index [Chapter 19 - Schicksal]

• Schicksal (German, fate)

Pairing: Taehyung x f.Reader

Warnings: the beginning is very sweet until everything does a 180 and it turns very dark, violent blooddrinking, hunts, violence, betrayal, those are not your sweet romanticised vampires

Wordcount: 8k

a/n: i hate them, also istfg if just one of you blames oc i will slaughter you painfully

The sun was already getting ready for her sleep when you and Taehyung finally leave his wing. You hadn’t planned on leaving his wing, but your rumbling stomach convinced you otherwise. 

You giggle as Taehyung catches up with you on the stairs. He wraps his arms around you, picking you up with ease.

“What are you doing? Tae put me down”, you laugh.

“Never”, he says, pressing you against the handrailing at the end of the stairs, “you’re mine darling”, he coos, caressing your sides.

“Mhm, yeah I am”, you say, grinning goofily. His hair feels so soft in your fingers.

"I'm so happy to have you again", he whispers, making your heart flutter.

"I'm happy too", you breathe, feeling your body draw closer to him all on its own.

"Let’s never ever fight again", he says, making you chuckle.

"That's a little unrealistic", you say. 

He pouts, earning himself a soft pinch to his cheek. 

"Fine, let’s never ever fight again", you give in with fondness in your voice. 

"That's better", he says and smiles. 

"You're so cute." 

"Ah yes? Are you perhaps talking to a mirror?" 

You snort, "Tae come on", you whine.

Taehyung grins and leans in for a kiss, stopping as your stomach rumbles loudly. You both look down at it.

“Are you famished, my sweetest?” he asks, rubbing his hand over your tummy gently.

“Yes, a little, stupid human stomach, it ruined the mood.”

Taehyung looks at you with fondness in his eyes.

“Let’s get you something to eat, shall we?”

The kitchen is abandoned when you enter it.

“What do you guys have?” you ask, opening the fridge, “apparently nothing.”

“You must understand, we normally don’t house human guests”, he explains, scratching the back of his neck.

“Ah I see. You just bring them over to be food, am I right?” you tease and Taehyung lowers his eyes, “don’t worry I was just messing with you."

“Ha”, he laughs nervously, “I knew that of course.”

“Sure you did”, you joke and look back into the empty fridge, “so what are we going to do about the empty fridge though? Do you want to go out and have dinner somewhere in town?”

“Or how about we order it and get it delivered?” he says, giving you a back hug, “we would waste less time, which we could spend otherwise.”

“Otherwise?” you twist around in his arms, “what is it you are talking about?” you tease, knowing exactly what he meant.

He smirks, giving your hips a quick squeeze.

“Do you enjoy Italian?” he asks.

“Italian? Well, duh obviously. I live for pasta”, you say.

“Splendid. Shall we order pasta for you darling? And some tiramisu for dessert?”

"How about we order pasta and for dessert….", you trail off, tugging him closer by his belt, "...I finally get to taste you." 

"Mhhhm darling", he rasps and kisses your cheek, "you are really out to torture me today, aren’t you?" 

"Maybe yeah", you break away, "so pasta, I think I want to go with bolognese or maybe lasagna? I don’t know what I should get..." 

He grins lazily. 

"How about I'll order you both and if it is too much I'll eat it for you?" 

"Sounds like a plan, yeah." 

You are busy getting yourself a glass of water while Taehyung talks on his phone to the restaurant. He ends up ordering tiramisu nonetheless, ending the phone call with a polite thank you.

His eyes land on your glass of water. 

"How about I get you wine instead?" he asks, reaching for your glass.

"No, I'm thirsty", you stop him, "but wine still sounds nice. What do you have?" 

"Come on, I'll show you." 

Taehyung leads you down a flight of winding stairs, holding your hand tightly the entire time. The cellar lights flicker on with a quick movement of his hand, revealing a long corridor to your eyes with its walls and narrow ceilings entirely made out of red brick. 

"Creepy", you murmur, "that’s so vampire mansion chique." 

Taehyung chuckles, leading you down the corridors. 

"What's this place?" 

"Our cellar system. I don't know what lies hidden behind most of these doors. Yoongi keeps the keys to them", he explains, "but there are a few rooms which are accessible to us."

You look at a rusty iron door, drawing closer to Taehyung because just looking at it scares you. 

"Is Yoongi one of the bad vampires?" you whisper, eyes still glued to the door. The way those rust stains look….like bloody handprints and scratch marks. 

"He is most definitely not good, that much is sure. But then-" Taehyung stops talking when he sees the precision of your scared gaze, "hey, don’t look", he cups your cheek and forces you to look at him, "he may be older than me, but this wouldn’t stop me from keeping you safe from him." 

"Older?"

"Yes, the older our kind is, the stronger we become. It is a little reward that comes with the torturous eternity." 

"I see...so you are basically Hulk strength wise?" 

He laughs, cheeks rising cutely.

"I like to argue that I am stronger than him." 

"Aaah of course you are", you tease, squishing your cheek against his arm, "gosh Tae this place is really creepy though." 

"Nothing can hurt you, I’m here with you. Alright?" he assures you softly, petting your hair. 

"Yeah, alright." 

You can see the end of the corridor. A thick iron gate with black poles and a massive lock. It is tangling from its chains, clearly having been opened recently as there was less dust collecting on it. Spiders have built their webs between the poles. The webs are moving in the winds which come out of the darkness behind the gate.

"What's behind there?" you point at it.

"Nothing", he says and unlocks a door just twenty feet from the gate. 

"What do you mean nothing?" 

Taehyung pulls you into the room and closes the door. Lights flicker on a second later, revealing a wine cellar to your eyes. It looks impressive with its high shelvings and dark wood floors, but your mind is still stuck on that gate. 

"Taehyung, a gate can’t just lead into nothing." 

He leads you down a path, taking a turn to his right where they are storing their white wines. He is still holding your hand. 

"Taehyung?" 

"There are things in this house, which shouldn’t concern you darling", he answers you with his voice slightly deeper than usual. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Dangerous things, which can hurt you", he explains further, leaving you more confused than before. 

"Does it lead to somewhere dangerous?" 

He nods his head and climbs on a wooden ladder to reach the highest shelf of Chardonnay. 

"Where to?" 

He climbs down again, turning to you. He is dusting off the bottle, eyes flitting up to lock with yours. 

"The tunnels under the city." 

"The tunnels? The secret tunnels you told me about on our first date?" 

"Yes, exactly. It is an endless labyrinth of lightless tunnels and hidden rooms and you would only get lost in them", he steps closer to you, "I believe that this is where they tortured you and Jungkook." 

"Holy shit, really?" 

"Yes, there is no other place in town which smells of acids, trust me." 

"How do you know about the acidic smells?" 

Taehyung shakes his head, "Intuition." 

"Intuition?"

"The scent lingered on your hair when we talked in acting class. But that doesn’t matter. Do you hear me, ___? I don’t want you to venture behind this gate and get lost. There are shadows down there, lurking in the darkness and waiting for a good soul like yours to stumble into their arms." 

"Shadows? As in the bad vampires who hurt me?" 

"Yes, amongst other wicked things."

You shiver and draw closer. 

"I understand", you say and touch his chest, "I won’t go behind the gate. I promise." 

He smiles. 

"That's my girl", he says and kisses your forehead, "it pains me to forbid you of your free will, but it is only for your safety." 

"Don't worry, I know you don’t want to control me. You just want to keep me safe. I understand."  

You get on your tiptoes and peck his lips. It makes him smile and in return it makes you smile. 

“Shall I show you something else?”

“Of course, gosh Tae why do you have so much stuff?” you ask him, holding his hand as he leads you out of the wine cellar.

“I think it comes with the age”, he jokes, making you laugh.

He leads you closer to the staircase again, stopping at a black iron door on the left side of the corridor. A key is stuck in its keyhole and a small camera is tangling from it.

“That’s such a cute keychain”, you gush, watching Taehyung unlock the door.

“Thank you, Jimin gave it to me as a present.”

“Jimin?”

Taehyung lets out a sigh, “there were happier times between him and I, a long time ago when it was just the two of us.”

“Do you guys know each other for long?”

“Four hundred years perhaps?”

“Damn, that’s a long time. No wonder you find it hard to end the friendship.”

You don’t quite see it as you are focused on what lies beyond the now opened door, but Taehyung lowers his eyes with a certain sadness in them. He clears his throat in an attempt to force down the heaviness in his chest.

“Go inside my sweetest”, he says, following you with a hand on your back.

He closes the door, engulfing you in unbreakable darkness.

“Jesus, I can’t see anything”, you murmur, widening your eyes as best as possible.

Click.

You blink.

Red lights turned on, revealing a small room to you. The walls were made out of the same brick as the corridor, the floor is the same grey concrete. There were laundry lines stretched between walls and dozens of photographs were hanging on them with the help of a laundry pin.

“Is this your photo laboratory?”

“Yes, this is my dark room. I spend many hours in here, but I want to show you something special. Come, it’s right back there.”

He leads you to a spacious working table. Taehyung stacked the photographs which finished drying on the surface, keeping them sorted in small boxes. Some he left out on the table. You remember this location. It is the park. That one park you and him walked in after your swing dance date.

“You finished the film”, you gasp, looking at his face with sparkling eyes.

Taehyung smiles proudly, “I did, I developed it last week and had planned on giving you the pictures, but then we fought so I kept them here for now.”

“I see, well do you want to show them to me now?”

“Yes, I’d love to.”

You stay close as he shows you the pictures, looking at his face every now and then because you just can’t stop looking at him. His eyes seem silver under the red light, it reminds you of deer eyes under the headlights or the eyes of cats when you shine your flashlight on them.

“Look sweetest, this is the picture you took”, he picks up a photograph.

It looks just slightly blurry.

“Oh dear, it’s ruined”, you murmur and pout.

“What? No, don’t say that”, Taehyung gasps, “it’s beautiful.”

You scoff, sending him a look, “you’re just saying this to be nice.”

“No, I really like it”, he says and gives you a quick kiss.

“Gosh, Tae. You’re making me fluster.”

You look back at the pictures. Taehyung’s pictures are all perfectly sharp. The moon and the stars, the fountain and the pathways. They appear in shades of black and red under the lights, but still manage to convey the tranquillity of the moment.

“You’re a talented photographer Tae”, you tell him, picking up one of the pictures, “it is peculiar, you remind me of someone I read about recently.”

“Vante? Yes I saw you flipped through the book, the dust was gone from its cover.”

“Yes!” you exclaim, “I get the same sense of tranquillity and melancholy from your pictures.”

Taehyung smiles boyishly.

“Oooh, okay yeah now it clicked”, you let out a breathy laugh, “I’m an idiot. You guys are the same person aren’t you?”

“Maybe?” he says, wiggling his brows at you.

“Well then my point stands even more, you are very talented”, you say and peck his lips, “I can’t believe I’m dating a photographer from the nineteen fifties”, you add.

“Hey”, he complains, pinching your sides, “I was very popular back then, people loved the mystery.”

“I’m not saying anything”, you giggle and look back at the pictures.

The pictures you took together. The one where you and him are smiling and the one where he kisses you deeply. There were two copies of each on the table. One for Taehyung and one for you. Taehyung, who had watched your face light up in fondness, touches your lower back and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Those two are my favourite pictures from the roll, you look so beautiful”, he whispers and pecks your cheek.

You lean into him and smile, “I…have to agree”, you confess, “I look so happy.”

“You see? That is what I am always telling you”, he exclaims and turns you in his arms so you would be facing you, “this is what I am allowed to look at”, he cups your cheeks, “this is how I see you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really”, he says and claims your lips in a kiss.

You sigh, running your fingers through his soft hair and getting on your tiptoes.

“Really”, he whispers between kisses, “really”, he sighs and snakes his arms around you until he can press you against his chest and feel your heartbeat against him. This is his favourite sensation.

Taehyung kisses you until he physically has to lift you to get you as close as he wants you to be. He sits you down on his worktable, breaking the kiss just to look at you. He is cradling the back of your head in his palm, holding you tightly with his other arm.

“I feel like all we do is look at your stuff and make out”, you joke.

Taehyung laughs, eyes turning into little crescent moons. He rubs his hands up and down your thighs, stepping closer.

“Forgive me, I know I keep stealing kisses from you. I just haven’t felt that happy in centuries”, Taehyung says in a light chuckle.

“Your friends don’t let you do a lot of things do they?”

His smile drops, his hands stop.

“I don’t know if it was just an empty threat of jealousy but Jimin told me at the ball that he doesn’t want me near you anymore and if I tried again he would kill me.”

“___ I-“

“I trust you Taehyung, I really do, but your friends really scare me”, you interrupt him, “and sometimes I get the feeling that they scare you too.”

Taehyung shakes his head, but his eyes seem scared.

“You just have to tell me Tae, maybe you feel like getting hurt by them is what you deserve and that telling me would mean you are admitting to your guilt. But that’s not true, I’m on your side.”

“I-I’m not scared of them”, he presses out, “please I don’t-“, he exhales shakily, turning away, “-I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Taehyung…” you reach for his hand.

“I said!” he rips his hand away, “...I don’t want to talk about it”, he whispers the next words.

“What happened Taehyung?”

He looks at you then the wall.

"I think we should leave. I just heard the front door ring", he says, turning to leave. 

"Tae wait”, you jump off the table and follow him.

You reach him once outside, stepping in front of him. He stops looking at you with embarrassed eyes.

“I’m sorry, I stuck my nose into something you’re clearly not ready to tell. You don’t have to tell me, but I just want you to know that if you do want to talk someday I’m here for you.”

Taehyung exhales through his nose and sags his shoulders.

“I know. I just have so much to sort through up there”, he touches his temple, “I can’t make sense of it yet and I want to be able to at least figure out how to voice it before I speak.”

“I understand”, you step closer and nudge his chest, “we’re a team though, don’t you dare forget that.”

“Yes, we’re family”, he agrees and smiles honestly. He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles, “thank you ___.”

“Don’t, I’ll do it gladly”, you say.

It is not long into your meal when the first of Taehyung's roommates decides to join you. 

“What’s with all that bloody ruckus?” just by the rumpling of his voice you know that Yoongi just entered the kitchen. He stops, starts sniffling vividly. His head snaps over, eyes connecting with yours.

“Wow, so you’re still alive”, he says calmly.

You watch him with big eyes. He makes his way over to the coffee machine.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, looking at Taehyung.

Taehyung dismisses you with a wave of his hand.

“Min Yoongi is still in the belief that I will eat you”, he explains, sending an annoyed glare over to Yoongi, “which is total bunkum.”

Yoongi turns around, cup of black coffee in his hand. Within a second he is by the table, sitting down on the short end. He throws his legs on the table, crossing them by his ankles.

“Kim Taehyung”, Yoongi leans back on the chair. He takes a long sip of his coffee, eyes glued to Taehyung, “you really like her don’t you?”

“And what if I do?” Taehyung throws back.

Yoongi raises his hands in defence.

“I see no problem here. A little human kindness will do you good, hell knows you needed it.”

“Oh, quit it”, Taehyung grumbles.

Yoongi grins in amusement. You take a bite of the pasta and a sip of your wine. It is weird. You don’t feel scared in Yoongi's presence anymore, just a little weary. 

“I met you at the masquerade ball”, you say into the silence.

Yoongi’s eyes flit to you. He pulls his legs from the table to sit up straight.

“Yes. Obviously”, he murmurs and scoffs.

“You and him met?” Taehyung asks, looking between Yoongi and you.

“Yes, I was just trying to get Namjoon to piss off when Yoongi stepped in between.”

“You met Namjoon as well?” Taehyung gasps.

“He tried to fuck her again”, Yoongi murmurs, eyes landing on you again, “I was just trying to get a drink though, I don’t know why you think I wanted to save you.”

“I never said you wanted to save me”, you say and point at him, “those are your words not mine.”

Yoongi grinds his teeth, “whatever”, he mumbles and rolls his eyes.

So you were right. Yoongi really wanted to keep you safe. You feel Taehyung place his hand on your thigh.

“Thank you hyung”, Taehyung whispers.

Their eyes meet. Yoongi even goes so far as to lower his cup of coffee.

“You did what I failed to do. I owe you everything.”

The weight of his words rests heavy on your shoulder and as you look at their faces you realise that you are witness of a moment of deep emotional importance. Even Yoongi’s eyes, which normally are filled with nothingness, seem to soften for the briefest of moments.

“I seriously don’t understand the big deal here, I just wanted to get a drink”, he murmurs and averts his eyes to the side.

Taehyung looks to the side as well. At you to be more specific. His eyes race over your features before locking with yours. He reaches out, brushing the back of his hand over your cheek as softly as a feather. Then he smiles, with just his eyes and the corners of his lips. You understand the meaning of that smile. He was glad to have you, but most importantly he feels safe enough in Yoongi’s presence to reveal his true feelings for you.

You retort the smile, hoping that he understands the message behind it. That you are happy to be reunited with him and that you trust his judgement over Yoongi.

“So Yoongi, Taehyung told me that you only drink animal blood. Why is that?” you say and pick up some of the pasta to eat.

Yoongi's eyes flit over to you, lowering in suspicion.

“That mustn’t concern you. I have my reasons”, he spits.

You blink, stopping midbite.

“Geez”, you put the fork down, “you really like being mysterious don’t you? Cheer up Min Yoongi, I was just trying to make friendly small talk.”

Taehyung scoffs and snickers, giving the back of your head gentle pats.

“Exactly, a little human kindness would do you good”, he throws in, basking in the teasing.

Yoongi rolls his eyes and huffs out air.

“You two are impossible”, he grumbles.

You and Taehyung exchange a look, having to cackle in mischief. Yoongi looks at you and Taehyung and for the briefest of moments there was the beginning of a fond smile on his lips.

“I hear laughing”, Namjoon enters the kitchen, wearing a bathrobe, which exposes his sculpted chest to your eyes and fur slippers, “oh Miss ___ you here? Good evening, long time no see.”

You study him from head to toe, distaste lacing your features. That fucker is who you needed to see this evening.

“Hello”, you mumble.

Namjoon prepares some coffee first before he sits down at the other end of the table. He opens a book and starts reading, golden-framed glasses perched on top of his nose. You know that he is merely wearing them for the aesthetic, vampires can’t have bad eyesight, which makes the scene just all that more infuriating. He sits there, acting like he hadn’t erased your memories of your shared sexual time. This prick. Oh how you want to ram your fork into his dick.

“Have you guys eaten yet?” Namjoon asks, raising his head from the book to look between Yoongi and Taehyung.

“We haven’t” Taehyung answers him coldly, shifting in his chair uncomfortably.

“Wonderful”, Namjoon smirks darkly. He snaps his fingers three times and like magic three women enter the room. Their faces are stoic, eyes unmoving as if they knew the path they had to take from memory. One stops by Namjoon's side. The other two go over to Yoongi and Taehyung, one of them each stopping by their sides.

“Uhm what the hell is going on?” you ask, stopping mid bite.

“Dinner”, Namjoon explains.

Taehyung sighs tiredly.

“Do we really have to?” he mumbles, looking at Namjoon with annoyed eyes.

“I don’t”, Yoongi says and dismisses the girl with a snap of his wrist, “scurry off girl.”

The woman nods her head and walks off in that robotic way.

“What is it, Min Yoongi? Did you not fancy her?” Namjoon asks, wrapping his fingers around the wrist of the woman by his side.

“No, I’ve been telling you for bloody centuries, I do not fancy your ridiculous offers”, Yoongi hisses.

“How terrible”, Namjoon says.

Your eyes grow big as you watch his fangs come to the light of day. He looks at you with his ruby eyes, black veins appearing on his face. He smirks, digging his fangs into the wrist of the woman afterwards. She doesn’t show any signs of discomfort, staring at nothing with cold, lifeless eyes.

“Are you insane? What are you doing?” you gasp, stomach twisting in fear.

Namjoon hums contently, breaking away from the wrist. He licks his blood covered lips, smirking devilishly.

“Relax. Camille here enjoys it, don’t you Camille?”

“Yes, sire”, she answers without emotion in her voice.

“Did you control her mind?” you gasp, anger boiling in your stomach.

“Did I control her mind?” Namjoon repeats your question and looks up at Camille, “Camille dearest, am I controlling your mind?”

“No, sire of course not”, she answers, eyes glued to nothing, “I am here out of my free will.”

“She is lying”, you spit, grabbing your knife tightly.

Namjoons eyes flit to it. He smirks in amusement.

“Camille dearest, are you lying?” he asks.

She shakes her head, “no, sire of course not.”

“And why is that?” Namjoon asks, smirk growing.

“Because you don’t like it when I do and I am a good girl.”

“Yes you are”, Namjoon says, caressing her hips, “so you see ___, Camille is just being a good girl for me.”

“You are sick”, you spit and look over to Taehyung, “Tae, this is- uhm, what the hell?”

Taehyung releases the woman's wrist and licks his lips clean. He looks at you, veins still prominent on his face.

“What? I was really hungry” he whispers, handing the woman his cotton napkin, "thank you so much", he thanks her in a shy, quiet voice. 

She presses it to her wrist, bowing her head at him, "you're welcome sire", she says, leaving his side afterwards.

“I can’t believe you, are you crazy?” you gasp, feeling honest disgust.

Namjoon snaps his fingers and the two women leave the room again. You only take in half of it, too busy with sending daggers Taehyung's way.

“Relax ___, we’ve been doing this for decades now. Those girls will go home and remember nothing. They’ll just think that they scratched themselves somewhere”, Namjoon says, smirking.

You nudge Taehyung's chest rather harshly, sending him one last angry look. Taehyung gulps, pulling at the collar of his jumper nervously. It makes Yoongi chuckle in amusement.

“So you are controlling their minds?” you spit, now sending daggers Namjoon's way.

Namjoon merely snickers deeply and takes a sip of his coffee.

“I asked you a question. Are you-“, you stop talking, eyes flitting the doorway.

You just heard a very weird sound. As if something or someone was being dragged over the floor. That’s when Jimin appears in the doorframe, covered in blood from head to toe and with his silver hair in a total mess.

“I just had the loveliest of hunts and when I came home I saw him leaving our estate”, he says, dragging the corpse of the delivery guy behind him. He throws it onto the table.

“Who had the brilliant idea of ordering food? He was delicious, the perfect ending”, he says, eyes flitting to you when he hears you scream in shock.

“Don’t look darling”, Taehyung says, covering your eyes quickly and pulling you against his chest, “have you gone mad Jimin?” he barks.

“What the fuck is the human doing here?” there is so much anger in Jimin's voice, you fear he might lash at you at any second.

“I asked her to come over”, Taehyung says.

“For dessert I so hope”, Jimin spits back.

You squeeze yourself closer to Taehyung, grasping his jumper. He tightens his arms around you.

“Of course not, are you out of your bloody mind? ___ isn’t food. She never was!” Taehyung barks.

Jimin slams his fist on the table, shaking it so much your glass of wine actually falls over. It runs over the table and drips onto the floor, every drop sounds like a gunshot in your ears.

“What has gotten into you, you bloody moron?” Jimin screams, “she is human! We do not court humans! We rip them apart and drain them until they are dead!”

You whimper, twisting Taehyung's jumper.

“I am fed up with you Kim Taehyung!” Jimin yells, “your obsession with that girl is getting ridiculous! Get your act together before I skin her alive in front of you!”

“Park Jimin!” Yoongi speaks up, getting to his feet, “this is enough, if Kim Taehyung wants to court that human girl, then we let him!”

Jimin's dark eyes fall on Yoongi. He growls and bares his fangs.

“Stay out of this you animal blood sucking weakling, I won’t listen to any of your martyr bullshit!” he barks.

“Weakling?” Yoongi growls, breaking the distance between him and a fuming Jimin. He presses the other vampire against the wall opposite of the dining table, fingers grasping Jimin's neck tightly, “you are going to start behaving around here, unless you want to go underground for a long time”, he hisses, squeezing tighter.

Jimin laughs menacingly.

“You want to best me?” he throws his head back as his laughter grows, “I just killed twelve people, thirteen if we count in the delicious delivery food, I can’t be bested”, he spits, kicking at Yoongi's chest.

The latter gets thrown halfway across the room, colliding with the pillar. Bones most definitely broke. He groans and falls to the floor like a ragdoll, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Holy fucking shit”, you screech.

Taehyung presses your face into his chest, squeezing you tightly to his body.

“Don’t look. He’s fine, I promise you my sweetest. He is going to be fine”, he whispers.

“Taehyung I want to leave”, you sob quietly.

“Of course, let’s leave. Come on sweetest, let’s leave”, he assures you, keeping you pressed to his chest the entire time.

“Kim Taehyung!” Jimin screams.

Taehyung flinches, so do you.  

“Did you turn it on again?” Jimin barks, closing the distance between him and Taehyung. He grabs a big bundle of Taehyung's hair and tugs his head back rather harshly, “did you fucking turn it on again?” 

“Can you please let go of me?” Taehyung says calmly, hand still caressing your back to calm you down.

“Answer my question you asshole!”

You look up, lips trembling in fear. Why does Taehyung look so calm? The way Jimin is grasping his hair must hurt. Just looking at the way his fingers twist his locks makes your scalp ache like crazy.

“Of course not”, Taehyung says calmly, rubbing soothing circles on your back. Even now, even when he is so clearly in discomfort, he makes sure that you feel safe. 

“Prove it. Rip her throat out”, Jimin says, eyes flitting over to you, “or do I have to do it myself? I would be happy to, she’s been alive for far too long” he spits, eyes turning blood red.

You whimper, eyes filling with tears as you draw even closer to Taehyung. He tightens his arm around you, caressing your skin in that soothing manner of his'. 

You flinch, two hands just placed themselves on your shoulders. They are dragging you away from Taehyung.

"No!" you exclaim, grasping Taehyung tighter.

“Let’s walk for a little, shall we?” Namjoon says as he pulls you to your feet harshly.

“No, let go of me!” you protest, “Taehyung make him stop! Taehyung, please I don’t want to leave!” 

Your hand is grasping his', your bones ache just from how tightly he holds you. 

"Let go of me! You dick I don’t want to go with you!" 

Namjoon puts more strength into his touches, tugging you further and further away. 

"Taehyung", you press out. 

"Let her go Namjoon!" Taehyung screams fruitlessly. 

Your fingers slip from his hand. You are broken up. 

"Taehyung help me! Taehyung please I don’t want to leave! I want to stay with you!" 

Taehyung calls your name, unable to turn around and look. Jimin's grip is far too tight for moving.

“Let me go! I want to be with her!” you hear Taehyung yell.

“Shut up!” you can hear Jimin's angry yell before a loud slap echoes through the estate.

“No. Let go of me. He is hurting him! Namjoon please let go of me”, you beg, fighting in Namjoon's deadly grasp.

“Stop fighting me”, he grunts.

“No, please. Namjoon please”, you protest, tears of desperation are pooling in your eyes.

“Behave!” he spits, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

“No, you fucking asshole. Let me down”, you squeal, hitting and kicking at him furiously.

“Will you stop moving around?” Namjoon hisses, squeezing your waist painfully. He will break your spine if he keeps squeezing like that.

“Ouch”, you squeak, growing limb in fear. You are shaking, flexing every single muscle in your body.  

He closes the door to the sitting room behind your backs.

“I’m so dumb, I’m so bloody dumb. What did I think would happen coming here? Y’all are crazy, like holy fuck”, you stutter, eyes glassy.

“I can’t agree more, you really are a stupid girl”, Namjoon says, setting you down in his library. He closes the door behind him and locks it.

“Why are you locking the door?” you are yelling at him.

“So Jimin, the moron, doesn’t come in here and tries to rip your throat out”, he explains calmly, turning around.

He studies your face and furrows his brows.

“What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter?” you squeak, “what a stupid question is that?! I just witnessed you guys feast on those poor women like they were nothing, then I witnessed Jimin not only dragging the corpse of my delivery guy into the kitchen, but I also throwing Yoongi across the room and killing him. And on top of that I received a very nice offer to get my throat ripped out by him!” you yell, “and you dare to ask such a stupid question?!”

“I apologize, I must admit that was a very ridiculous question”, Namjoon says, raising his hands in defence.

“And on top of that I know what you did to me, you fucked up, perverted asshole!”

Namjoon takes a step back and cocks an eyebrow up at you.

“Now that accusation I ask you to enlighten me on”, he says, touching his own chest in defence.

“You made me fuck you and then erased my memories of it! Taehyung told me what you did, I should ram a goddamn wooden stake through your chest for it!”

“I must say, that is a threat not a lot of women dared to make yet, I’m impressed, you’re a feisty one. No wonder Taehyung fancies you.”

“So you’re not denying it? You actually used me like that?”

Namjoon nods his head, “of course I did.”

You don’t hit people, violence goes against your morals, but at this moment you couldn’t stop yourself. You slap Namjoon across the face with all your might. Your hand pulsates in pain afterwards. Good, it means he is hurting too.

“You bloody asshole”, you yell, stomach twisting in disgust.

“Hot damn ___. You have one hell of a slap”, Namjoon laughs, touching the aching spot on his cheek.

“You think this is funny?” you spit, going in for a punch.

He stops you before you can, gripping your wrist tightly.

“Now, now don’t be angry at me”, he says, raising his finger, “it was all consensual.”

You laugh in disbelief, ripping your hand free from his grasp.

“If it was all consensual why did you erase my memories in the first place?” you spit, “you dick, that literally makes all the consent I gave you useless.”

“It’s more fun that way”, Namjoon states calmly.

“You are so fucked up, holy shit. Y’all are actually crazy, all of you”, you bark, basically latching yourself on Namjoon.

He is laughing the entire time you are hitting him all over.  

“Aww, even your dearest Taehyungie?” he taunts.

“Don’t bring Taehyung into this!” you scream, finally landing a punch on Namjoon's face.

The latter stumbles back. His laughter had stopped now that the intensity of your punch had surprised him.

“Taehyung is better than any of you could ever dream of being! I have no idea why he hangs out with you sickos in the first place.”

Namjoon chuckles before he laughs loudly. You stop your prancing, staring at him in confusion. He is laughing again? How fucked up can a person be?

“What’s there to laugh about?”

“You are a special one, little one.”

Little one.

A shiver runs through you, as if death dragged its cold fingers down your spine and let its icy breath fan over your neck. There it is again, that metal scraping on paper, in the back of your mind it is echoing and telling you to get out of this situation as quickly as possible.

“What did you just call me?” you ask, voice quivering in fear.

“You speak in riddles”, Namjoon says, blinking in confusion.

“What did you fucking call me right now?!” you scream, voice bouncing off the walls.

“I fear I’m not following you.”

“Little one. You, you, you called me little one! You- how”, you stumble, “why did you call me like that?”

“Because I wanted to”, he states calmly.

“No way”, you murmur, feeling your blood freeze in your veins, “it’s you”, you whisper.

“What are you-“, Namjoon begins only to be interrupted by you running past him.

You have no idea how you managed to unlock the door, but you did. You also have no idea why exactly you decided to take the stairs instead of running outside. But you did. You ran up the stairs and down the corridors, not looking back once. Not even when you closed the door to Taehyung's wing behind you. You just kept on running, panting and cursing every echoing step you made. Little one. Those two words are haunting you. Little one. You throw yourself against Taehyung's atelier door. Little one. The door opens. Little one. Metal scraping on paper. You stumble up the stairs to his library, falling twice in the unbearable darkness. Little one. Metal scraping on paper. Chains rattling and groaning.

“Holy shit, you stupid, naïve girl”, you choke out and then you collapse on the mattress and roll yourself into a small ball of fear.

Footsteps. Someone is running up those stairs. You sob. Please let it be Taehyung.

“My sweetest?” his voice rings in your ears.

“Taehyung”, you choke out, throwing the blanket off your face, “Taehyung”, you start sobbing the moment you lay eyes on him.

He throws himself to his knees and cups your cheeks.

“Why are you here? Why didn’t you flee?”

“I panicked”, you sob, falling into his chest, “Taehyung are you okay?”

“I can’t say.”

“What?”

“I can’t say”, he says, shaking his head, “sweetest I can’t say.”

“What happened? Taehyung what happened?”

“Nothing”, he assures you, cupping your cheeks, “darling you should have left.”

“Not without you”, you say, twisting his jumper in your fingers, “I hid here because you told me that your roommates don’t know about this room.”

Taehyung drags his thumb over your lips, eyes becoming glassy.

“You should have left”, he croaks.

“I know, but you’re here now. You’ll protect me.”

Taehyung whimpers, biting down on his lower lip.

“Yes”, he nods his head, “yes I will protect you”, he says, resting his forehead against yours.

You sob, twisting his hair in your fingers to pull him closer.

“Taehyung it was them”, you choke out, “the masked men, it was them. They hurt me and Jungkook.”

Taehyung rubs his thumb over your cheeks in desperation, grasping you tightly.

“We should leave darling. You can’t stay here any longer.”

“Where to?”

“Your apartment. Vampires can’t enter without an invitation, you should be safe there.”

You pull him closer, “please take me there.”

“I will, darling I will.”

Taehyung is seemingly on edge as you hurry through the estate. He is holding your hand tightly, entire body shaking.

“You should have left. You should have left. Oh darling, why didn’t you leave? You should have left”, he whispers repeatedly, voice quaking. It is like a mantra of regret. Was Taehyung right? Should you have really left? Fled back to your apartment and locked yourself up until Taehyung would have returned? He would have known where to look for you, after all he found you in his library as well. Maybe you really should have left, but something stopped you from it. That slap, that one slap you heard as Namjoon dragged you out of the kitchen. Jimin most definitely hurt Taehyung, you don’t even want to imagine how much he hurt him. Even Taehyung was afraid to talk about it. You were worried, yes you really were, and that is why you hid in his library instead of fleeing to your apartment. You were worried that Taehyung was too hurt to find you and so you stayed back.

“You should have left”, he croaks, stumbling over the red carpet in the entrance hall. His hands are clammy. They are never clammy, no matter how hot a room was or how much he moved. He must be scared, really scared. His panting becomes more and more the closer to the front door you and him get.

He stops before he opens the door, turning around. He cups your cheeks and tilts your head up. Why are his eyes so terribly glassy?

“Run ___”, he says, “please promise me to run as fast as you can.”

“What do you mean? Taehyung please don’t stop now, we are almost by your car”, you stress, pushing at his chest gently.

“Promise me. Please ___ you have to run”, he says, voice quaking.

“I will, come on we don’t have time for that”, you insist, looking over your shoulder.

Taehyung whimpers and presses his eyes closed.

“Please run, please”, he croaks, voice barely above a whisper.

The door opens, he pulls you outside.

“Took you long enough Kim Taehyung”, Jimin growls, staring at you with his fangs bared.

Namjoon is standing next to him, face morphed into the monster he actually is.

“Oh fuck, holy fuck”, you squeal, turning around quickly to get back inside.

Taehyung stops you, making himself big in front of you.

“Tae move, for fucks sake move”, you hiccup.

He doesn’t move, grabbing your arms.

“Tae?” you look up.

He is staring down at you with glassy eyes.

“Please run, please”, he chokes out, lower lip beginning to tremble.

“What?”

Taehyung looks away and pushes you down the stairs. No. You stumble, collapsing with Jimin's chest. He is one of them?

“Taehyung….” you whisper, not even feeling the iron grip Jimin has on your arms.

“It hurts doesn’t it? Knowing that this was all pretend”, Jimin growls, fiery breath fanning over your neck.

“No. I-I d-don’t. I don’t understand.”

Jimin pushes you away, making you stumble. You almost fell, catching yourself at the last moment. He is one of them. Taehyung is one of them. He led you into this trap. He swore to protect you and led you into this trap. Your glassy eyes land on Taehyung's. Deep growling surrounds you, it sounds hungry and dangerous. Jimin and Namjoon, ready to latch themselves on your neck.

“Why?” you choke out, lips trembling.

“Run! For fucks sake run!” Taehyung screams at you so loudly his voice echoes through the forest.

“No, nonononono”, you sob, turning around and running down the gravel path as fast as you can. This is it. Your end. You are running straight into death's arms. You know that you can’t outrun them, they are faster than you, their eyes see better in the dark, their ears would always pick up your heartbeat. You can hear Jimin and Namjoon laugh behind you. Their voices bounce off the trees like those of angles of death. Your lungs burn. Your heart is racing. You can hear the blood in your ears. This is nothing but a game to them. I fucked up game of chase and Taehyung made sure that you would be the prey. Your vision is blurry from your tears, your throat aches, you can taste blood on your tongue.

“No, please no”, you sob, stumbling and falling. Your knee aches unbearably, but you can’t stop. You must flee. Get up and run. Run until you can’t anymore. You look over your shoulders. It is so dark. This isn’t a normal darkness, not even the moon can break through it.

It is the same darkness, which followed you at the masquerade ball.

“Run little rabbit run”, Jimin sings behind you, cackling maniacally.

“No please”, you sob, increasing your steps.

Jimin laughs in answer, it bounces off the trees and drags its icy fingers over your spine.

“No, holy fuck please”, you wail, feeling close to throwing up. You can feel it on your skin. The iciness, that unbearable cold as if he is already grabbing you.

“Gosh your heart is racing so deliciously!” Jimin squeals happily, as if he was a child on a playground.

“Just stop running, little one”, Namjoon's voice comes at you from your left, “safe your energy, it is fruitless anyway”, his voice is closer than before.

You sob and speed up. Your throat aches, you can taste more blood.

“Hello there”, Jimin says, appearing next to you.

“Go away!” you squeal, stumbling to your side.

He giggles and catches you, pulling you into his arms.

“Gotcha”, he coos, rubbing his nose up and down your cheek, “you can’t run now little rabbit.”

“Let go, let go. Please let go”, you beg, shrill voice echoing in the forest.

“You’re no fun”, Jimin pouts, setting you back down again.

Now. Run. Just run. You need to run. Turn around and run.

“Oops”, Namjoon catches you as you collide with his chest, “careful you’ll hurt yourself”, he says, gripping you tightly.

“No, noonono please no”, you wail, fighting against his grip.

Jimin touches your waist with one hand, twisting the other in your hair. He tilts your head back.

“I wanted to do this for months”, he rasps, fangs growing with every spoken word.

“No please. Jimin please”, you sob, shaking your head as best as possible.

He cackles, eyes turning pitch black.

“Any last words you want to say to your lover?” he taunts, forcing you to turn your head.

Taehyung. He is just a few feet away from you, staring at the scene with big eyes.

“Help me”, you choke out.

Taehyung breaks the eye contact, turns his head away and presses his eyes closed. Your heart shatters in your chest.

“How tragic”, Jimin laughs, boring his fangs into your neck afterwards.

You can’t help but scream. This hurts like nothing else you have ever felt before. You want to beg for mercy but can’t, he has stolen your voice from you. Another sharp pain joins on the other side of your neck. Namjoon, he is almost ripping a piece of flesh out of you. Make it stop, please make it stop.

Your body grows limp. Make it stop, please anyone. Make it stop. It hurts so much.

You can’t feel your legs anymore. The feeling in your hands disappears as well. More darkness. The pain has reached your heart. Not enough blood is in your system. Your heart is trying desperately to survive.  

One last time your eyes flit over to Taehyung. Maybe you are hallucinating but he is currently getting thrown against a tree. What?

Darkness. Your eyes didn’t fall close and yet you can’t see. Suddenly. The pain stops.

Your body falls to the ground immediately. You know that your head hit a stone, but you don’t feel it. More darkness. Something or someone is growling. Just for a moment then. Nothing but silence. Branches break. Then. Shuffling of feet.

“Don’t die on me”, a deep voice yells. A cold hand suddenly presses to the side of your neck, it doesn’t even hurt anymore. You can see a light. It is silver and bright, almost beautiful.

“For fucks sake woman, don’t you fucking die on me”, the voice keeps on yelling. You blink, the light disappears, but you can’t focus your eyes.

Raven hair, white glowing skin, red lips. Then you feel something press against your mouth. It is as if someone was feeding you acid, it burns your tongue. If you weren’t so exhausted you would have screamed.

“Swallow, for hell's sake you’re going to die otherwise. Swallow!” the man screams and presses whatever he is holding tighter to your mouth.

You swallow.

“That’s it, keeping drinking. You are doing great…..almost ther…..yo….h....” the voice drowns out as you are drowning in whatever he is feeding you.

Your eyes close and then darkness engulfs you.

[sazandorable]

About moderating and banning content on AO3!

Okay so! I haven’t had the spoons to do this for a while but I cracked and ranted about it on twitter which is... not... conducive to long rants, so!

This is a h u g e discussion part of the l o n g history that led to the creation of AO3, which older, more informed, and more articulate people have talked about at length and can be found around if you look (I reblog some of it in my AO3 and fandom history tags for the curious). So I won’t go into that here, nor into the practical reasons why it’s not even possible to put that system in place anyway.

Arbitrarily, or the purpose of this post, because it’s the biggest topic I’ve seen brought up lately, I’ll be talking about fic depicting underage characters in se*ual situations, but honestly I could hold the exact same conversation on literally any controversial content.

This is about why you, specifically, if you are a content creator and especially if you are marginalised and especially if you are queer and especially especially if you are sensitive to fiction depicting certain things... do not, actually, want a banning system on AO3.

What? Of course we do. There’s a lot of p*do shit on AO3 and p*do shit is gross. No one should condone that, wtf? It would be easy to do — just periodically delete the entire Underage tag!

What will happen if that is done is that people will re-upload and continue to write it, they’ll just stop tagging and you will run into it with zero warning nor ability to filter it out. Again, this is not a theoretical — we know this is what happens. When I was a teen, adult content (all adult content) was not allowed on FF.NET; it was everywhere regardless, and without tags. The exact same thing happened on tumblr when adult content was banned as well. It’s not a matter of “staff not handling it well” — it just doesn’t work.

To keep safe the people who need to be able to exclude that tag, that tag needs to exist and be used.

Well, shucks. A reporting system then?

A reporting system would operate in one of two ways:

-an algorithm, which would delete a lot of stuff we wouldn’t want it to delete.

-humans, which is... the bigger problem.

An algorithm sounds great. We do want it to delete everything.

Okay. What about the daddy k*nk fics between consenting adult characters? What about the fics featuring characters that are children in the canon but are adults in the fic? What about the fics about teenagers exploring their se*uality together, written by adults about the experiences they remember having or wish they could have had? What about the thousands of SasuNaru and Drarry and other shounen and YA fics that will get written, by teens or by people who remember being teens? What about the se*ually explicit fic written by teens who are se*ually active in real life? What about the fics about CSA as trauma, about healing from it? What about the fics written by survivors of CSA to cope about their trauma? What about the fics that clearly show that it’s evil and traumatic? What about the super dark, harrowing, but beautiful and artistic that I’m glad I read even though it fucked me up for days? What about the ones that were really shitty but also horribly hot?

Well, some of these are still not okay, but maybe some might be. It depends on how it’s written. We’ll have humans moderating content and deciding, then.

Okay.

The thing is, I don’t know which of the things I just listed were okay for you to be depicted in fiction and which were too much. Odds are I don’t agree with you. Odds are if I asked 10 people randomly picked off the street, not everyone would agree.

Odds are, even if AO3 arbitrarily decided on which of those are allowed and which are not, you would not agree with their choice, and you would still be unhappy with the decision. (Or you would be happy, but your friends wouldn’t.)

Odds are, different AO3 content moderators might not agree on whether a given fic qualifies or not — is it artistic enough? Does it show enough that these actions are evil and wrong? Can the author prove they’re a teenager? Can the author prove they are a CSA victim? Can the author prove that this is to help them cope with their trauma? The author seem to be functioning alright, they mustn’t really be traumatised!

You know what I mean! There’s absolute, objectively gross shit out there that is not artistic and should not be published.

I agree that there’s vile stuff out there that makes me sick and that I think is very clearly just ped*philic trash. But there is no way to, 1) stop those from getting published anyway, 2) take those down and preserve the safety of everything else.

If we start forbidding some things, there’s two ways to go about it.

One single, clear, arbitrary rule — for instance, absolutely no adult content featuring characters under 18 (leaving aside the fact that this would not even work for the reason cited above). So we lose all the stuff from teenagers, all the coming of age stories about adolescence, all the stuff from CSA survivors; people who need to write it can’t publish it anymore, and people who need to read it can’t anymore either (and as a cool bonus, they’re told it’s wrong and made to feel bad about it). Depending on whether the rules applies to characters that are under 18 in the canon, we lose entire fandoms.

Or, subjective moderation by humans, according to what they estimate to be gross.

Let’s assume all moderators can agree on what’s gross or not.

If there is a system in place to ban some underage works because “gross shit”, then that means other gross stuff can be taken down on account of being gross and harmful.

Yeah! Gross stuff should be taken down! Come on, surely everyone agrees on what’s gross and harmful.

Ah.

But the problem is.

Here is a list of things I have seen — with my eyes seen — called harmful to be depicted in fiction:

Murder

Non-con

Inc*st

Cannibalism

Torture

Self-harm

Mental illness

Drugs

Racism

K*nk

Non-negotiated k*nk, but healthy k*nk is ok

Spanking k*nk

BDSM where the woman is a bottom, but woman top is ok

Healthy depictions of BDSM

Unhealthy depictions of BDSM

Queer people doing bad things

Abusive relationships

Rival/Enemies to lovers

Redemption stories

A happy relationship between a 17 yo and an 18 yo

A happy relationship between a 20 yo and a 60 yo

A happy relationship between a boss and their employee, or a college teacher and a student

A happy relationship between a 14 yo boy and an older teenage boy, because that’s reminiscent of older men preying on younger gay boys IRL

Se*ual content featuring a character whose age is unclear in canon and some people headcanon them as being underage, some as being a young adult

Loving, consensual fluff between characters that are evil villains, because it romanticises them and their actions

Dark content shipping female characters

Fluffy content shipping female characters, because it’s misogynistic to act like lesbians are only soft all the time

Consensual s*x featuring a canonically asexual character, because it implies that all aces can and should still have se*

Fics about the same canonically asexual character hating s*x, because that erases the experience of s*x-positive aces

Shipping a character who is perceived by some fans as queer-coded with a character of a different s*x

The tendency to ship a black character with white characters

Fluffy drunk s*x, because that’s not actually consensual

Sleep s*x, because that’s not actually consensual

Trans characters not experiencing dysphoria, because that idealises the trans experience

Consensual s*x between adults that are not married

LGBT+ content, because kids shouldn’t see that.

I guarantee you: you, I, and 10 random people plucked from the street will not agree on what, in that list, is and isn’t okay to publish and consume fiction of.

So why should your taste be the one followed? Why should it be the taste of mods you don’t know? Why should anyone get to dictate? What if the mods think your OTP is gross and your NOTP is fine?

This is the slippery slope argument.

Yes, it is the slippery slope argument. Because we know it happens. Because we’ve been there, because I’ve seen it happen myself twice already and I’m not even thirty. Because we know people do complain loudly about all of these things.

And because the second there is a banning system in place, assholes will use the system to abuse it and get stuff they just don’t like taken down using the “it is gross” argument, and one day you’ll wake up and the beautiful fic that helped you come to terms with your abuse/trauma/identity/orientation/k*nk for feet will be taken down and wonderful vulnerable creative people will have been harassed out of fandom because they argued with 1 person who didn’t like their foot k*nk fic that happened to also feature, for instance, a CSA trauma backstory.

Again: not exaggerating. Not theoretical. It happens, we know it happens, AO3 was created literally because it happens.

I still fucking hate that stuff.

That is completely fine and normal. No one likes everything. Me too! Most of the dark stuff is niche and the creators know only few people will like it the same way they do.

(For the record, I get grossed out and triggered by fics about an asexual character who does not like s*x having s*x with their partner to make them happy. Deep in my gut everything screams that that’s fucked up, terrifying and harmful, how can people write that. But I recognise that there are people who love and need that, and I leave those people and their content alone.

OTOH, I read a lot of otherwise dark shit and I enjoy it in the same way I enjoyed, say, Hannibal, in the same way some people enjoy true crime documentaries, horror movies or r*pe fantasy k*nk. It helps me explore stuff that I like to see in fiction, in a safe, controlled way. I’m also asexual, 90% s*x-repulsed IRL, and, obviously, I would never abuse a child. For that matter, I wouldn’t kill and eat people, either, nor would I do 90% of the tamer k*nky stuff I read.

Of course, Hannibal was fucked up and lots of people probably think Hannibal was gross and should not have been aired — but as exemplified by the fact that it was created, aired and watched, lots of people thought it was fine, interesting and even fun to watch.)

You can and should curate your experience and protect yourself. The AO3 website now allows you to exclude certain tags, and people have developed tools to help with that such as plugins that save your filters or hide fics that contain certain words.

But no, it isn’t going to, and it shouldn’t, get banned.

[sockit-2-me]

PART 2

I wanted to ask him to let me go, I’ll forget his face, he’ll forget mine and we love on. But I felt paralysed. I felt so small, this man is probably only a few inches taller than me but right now he is a mountain.

The corner of his mouth smiled as he said, “Talk to me,” he placed his fingertips on my back, so lightly I almost didn’t feel it. His touch was too gentle to be true. I know that this is the calm before the storm.

I’m questioning all my morals right now because I’m thinking about how attractive he is. I’m thinking about whether my body looks good for him. These intrusive thoughts disturb me. I could be dead in minutes and I’m thinking about sex.

His fingers glide along my back, under my tshirt, he walks slowly around the table, examining me like a doctor. Trailing further I feel him attempt to jam his hand down my jeans.

“No.” I say quietly, there was no real effort or power behind me, I’ve almost surrendered already.

“Ah she speaks,” he’s standing behind me but I could imagine him rolling his eyes.

I take a deep breath, and try to control the trembles in my voice, “please, let me go, I won’t tell the police. I won’t remember anything, I promise.”

“My dear, I want you to remember everything. You missed out on all the fun last night, it wouldn’t be fair, would it.”

“Last night?”

“Yes baby, I thought you had forgotten, you’re much less feisty today.”

“What did you do to me,” this time I burst into tears, I can’t believe a few seconds ago I was romanticising this. Im helpless. Im hopeless. Im lost. Im a damsel in distress.

His smile feels more sinister now, I can feel him feed on my fear, he loves that im dying.

“I’ll tell you all about it tonight. There’s just some things I’ve got to attend to…” he trailed off like he was distracted.

“Please-“

“Listen to me. Carefully.” This is the most serious he’s gotten yet, “If you’re going to beg me or try to run away or fight me - I will fuck you until you’re paralysed and I will keep you here for the rest of your fucking life - do you understand?” He pauses and I make a muffled yes sound, he continues. “Now that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do that anyway,” he slaps my arse gently, in an endearing fashion, “you like that don’t you?”

The last part startled me. I expected the threats. I am very afraid but I think I’m beginning to dissociate. I’m calmer than I was when he wasn’t here.

“Don’t you?”

“I’m sorry, don’t I what?” I couldn’t focus as my mind was so loud and chaotic.

“Oh my fucking god. Look at me for fuck sake… there. Are you listening to me?”

The eye contact we hold feels too intimate, like he’s my boyfriend. I don’t want to look away. Maybe he senses my humanity and fear and sweat and he lets me go. Maybe he can read my mind and knows exactly how I feel. He seems like he can read my mind. He feels larger than life.

“Alright fuck it, I’ll tell you about last night, it’s a shame you’ll never get to see the videos, they are… something else…. Anyway. Me and my guys found you walking through the high street, you were rather drunk. Do you remember that part?”

“I don’t…”

He chuckles, “Naw, your little body really takes the drugs well then hm,” he scans me up and down again before he starts to remove my clothes.

“Please don’t-“

“What did I tell you about being disobedient? I want the best for you, just do what I say. Don’t make me do this to you.”

As he speaks his motions get more anger fuelled, but he calms down. This is a man on the edge and I can not test his limits. I know he’s going to hurt me but I think I can make it out of this okay.

“It was me, and my two mates from the bar. You asked us for a lighter and you were very flirty. Not just with me. With all of us. You told us how your feet hurt, and how you really wanted to smoke a joint, how drinking made you forget your problems, how you were sad that your ex never called…” All this information seems legit. I can’t believe it. I approached him.

“So we invited you to smoke with us. You trusted us blindly, like a child being offered candy. It was cute to see you so happy, you love attention, don’t you?”

I blush.

“Don’t you? Tell me you love it.”

I don’t know what to say.

I let out a little squeal as he digs his nails into my skin, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I love it.”

“You love what?”

I pause.

“I-“

Fuck! He scratches all along the backs of my legs, it’s only then that I realise he pulled my jeans all the way to my bolted down ankles.

“I love the attention!”

“Aw baby girl loves the attention. What a spoilt little girl…” when he talks like this I find myself swooning, again I’m enjoying something that should be killing me inside.

“We brought you here pretty quickly. I drove. You were tied up and shoved in the footwell, you’re so small it’s fun to force you into little places or positions… But of course this was all consensual. As is this,” he noticed my confusion and continued, “ahh yes we prepared for this moment,” he takes out his phone and shows me the screen.

He plays a video.

It’s me.

It’s like watching a ghost on camera.

I’m so drunk, I’m laughing, having fun, I’m sitting on one of the other guys’ knees I think. My top has been lifted up so it’s above my tits, my hair is a complete state and so is my makeup.

The audio from the video plays loud and clear, “yes omg why are you guys being so weird about this! Just do it! This is me giving you permission! You can have me!” I’m smiling from ear to ear in the video. Some famous last words. Somehow I feel less safe than I did before. Is this video a way of saying I consent to everything from now on? All of a sudden this feels very long term.

“You see? It’s such a shame you can’t remember, you had so much fun. You did things you’ve never done before. And we were so proud of you. I am so proud of you.”

It feels genuine. He’s proud of me. It feels good.

“Wh-what did we do?”

“Oh my dear, I can’t tell if you’re enjoying this not,” he raises a brow and I look away, am I afraid or just ashamed?

“I’ll tell you, it’s okay. You deserve to know when you get spitroasted for the first time. You know what that means little one?”

I looked at him dead in the eye as I nodded - I never thought I’d be that girl.

“Good girl. You did a very good job, considering. I fucking loved force feeding you my dick. Watching your pussy get destroyed, your eyes rolling back, your body getting weak, as your face got violated with my cock… it was something else. Oh yeah, does your little pussy hurt?”

I am shocked. I don’t know what to say.

“I don’t know”.

He chuckles, “let’s find out then, shall we?” He asked as if I had a choice.

He pulls my panties down to my ankles, the anticipation is an extraordinary feeling. The fear is incredible.

“Oh no baby, you’re all wet. Was daddy’s story getting you all excited? Do you wanna hear about how I used your fragile little pussy? You wanna hear about how I choked you till you passed out and proceeded to fuck your unconscious body?”

My legs began fo twitch, I couldn’t help it. I felt like a sex slave. I felt like all my dirty little secrets and guilty cravings are now defining me. How can I be in such a place and feel this way. I am wrong.

“Did y-“

“Yes. And we didn’t cum in you, we’re saving that for tonight, we don’t want you to be drunk, it just wouldn’t be right.”

My breathing got heavier then.

“Baby, don’t worry, you want my cum inside you. You want it. You were catting for it last night. He tapped my pussy, you want it so bad,” he started to play with my push and I realised he might be right, “my god you’re so fucking wet. Fuck.”

I can tell in his voice how bad he wants me now. And I know that I want him too.

So I make a light moan sound, not necessarily a good or bad moan. I need to play it right here.

“Baby girl you’re too enticing,” I hear him starting to unzip his clothes, and just like that the panic kicks in.

I start shaking myself as hard as I can, lashing every way possible to get out. He’s going to get me. What if he has an sti, what if he gets me pregnant, what if he doesn’t let me out? And there’s 2 more of him somewhere.

“Shh…”

He mounts me.

He’s bearably heavy, but I keep squirming, I’m tensing my legs together and screaming.

He takes his shirt off and sticks half the sleeve in my mouth, but I just spit it out. His eyes dart to mine and I learn my lesson, I stay quiet, the way he looked at me chilled me to the bone. Submission feels like the only option, I don’t know what he might do.

“Thank you baby, now be a good girl and relax for me. I know you want it, I can feel you dripping for me.”

He rubs his dick over my pussy, I am wet, I can’t deny it. He keeps rubbing, almost like he’s teasing himself. He wants me so bad I can hear it in his voice, feel it in his motions.

He puts it in.

He keeps pushing and pushing, now it’s all the way in. It hurts. I don’t think I’ve ever had a dick this big before, I can’t see it but it feels uncomfortably big. I hold my breath and clench my fists. This isn’t gonna be quick.

[lunarpleurodon]

「Grieving Period: first sentiment」

When exactly was it, that I realised I couldn’t stand my friends?

You know, I could have shut it down the moment it started When I met you, I first thought ‘geez, this person’s annoying’ I could have avoided you on purpose I could have never been your friend

But I didn’t

And so this is your gratitude?

Between the photos of myself and the photos of my friends,  Something had gone wrong Even when I knew the difference between right and wrong, I pretended not to

I’d realised that, and still wanted more

People change People change a lot between thirteen and eighteen, And you think there’ll never be an issue Because you’ve survived that thing before, but,

Eventually it reaches a point where you realise If you want to keep growing up yourself, You’ll have to leave something behind Go take an upgrade

「I’m sick of being the loser」

I’d thought that California would be different And I got lost on the way to Santa Monica, I guess 「We met the end」 I’ll be busy romanticising my misery if you need me

But I can't do anything until you leave, so,  I'll let this fever render me helpless

I took a cig, lit it up, Coughed on that smell I’m not yet too fond of If it kills me, I’ll come back to life It’s not a problem

What’s your humanity defined by? Other people’s kindness?

Please,

「I don’t need him anymore」

Don’t make me laugh

I mean, it’s growing up, isn’t it? People walk in, people walk out, People leave mud, you do or you don’t clean it up It’s nothing to be proud of,

But added sentiments of ‘I’m doing so much better!’, Like I’m supposed to hate myself Over someone else’s success,

Just feel a little childish to me

I’ll become a fully-fledged adult

I wouldn’t be telling anyone About my good news or bad news I’d be heading to school alone again And eating by myself in the bathroom

Don’t come crawling back to me with ‘are we still friends?’ Like some fourth-grader with a difference complex Well, I don’t know, 「Are you still an asshole?」

I’d been thinking Are you really going to drop Friends you’ve had since you were thirteen For a guy you’ve known for a couple months?

But I’ve known you all this time, so, I should have realised your answer long ago Yeah, you have that guy, So I don’t compare

Some sort of sick sentiment with bared teeth like ‘Oh how the tables have turned!’ Or whatever, Oh well,

That storybook was finished a long time ago,

I’m going home

「Honestly, I’ve known it for a long time now」

I wonder how much time I wasted In someone else’s house Just getting drunk, just saying words, Just getting nothing done

Ah, I’ll never have a chance like that again, And I already wrote about that To the sound of cicadas, To the sound of everyone else being in love

Someone leaves

Someone always leaves

It starts when they walk out of the room

Like it was punishment For not valuing them enough But evidently, they didn’t like me, Why should I feel guilty?

Man, I always get pissed off over relationships that I make happen I give people a gateway, Because honestly, I’m excited to share with my friends, And then they leave me behind on the ground

「I shouldn't have said it」

We have nothing in common That matches up between us But memories better left forgotten And a past we’d both rather leave behind

How many more chances am I going to give you?

And, after six or seven years, I realised I didn’t fit in with my own friends I was going to be replaced 「With a newer, cooler version of me」

It’s like you guys don’t even want to entertain the idea That I know what I’m doing, That I’m a least a little intelligent Ah, it’s always been like that, hasn’t it

I never thought I’d have to ask my own friends To be nice to me But I just kept quiet And endured it

「Aren’t I a good kid?」

I bet it's much better all the way in California California is different, huh?  Yeah,  California is different 

Words like

「I’m well aware I write too many songs about you」

And

「You didn’t mean what you wrote in that song about me」

Whirled around in my head Until all I could hear Was the distant memory Of a thousand

dying

screaming

cicadas

And that summer had already come to an end.

「Oh. Summer break was already over.」

「sentiment」

well overdue

Loser, Geek, Whatever, Joe Iconis Additional Memory, Jin, cov. JubyPhonic Ajin: Demi-Human, Gamon Sakurai: chp. 24, 25 Mean Girls, Paramount, 2004 bullshit, SJG Love Me, Love Me, Love Me, Kikuo Michael in the Bathroom, Joe Iconis Falling, Harry Styles drivers license, Olivia Rodrigo

[thekidultlife]

The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate! AU (1)

⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU

⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff

⍟ Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse, drinking, and sex

⍟ Word Count: 4.5k

⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to writeopinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |

AN OPINION ON THE SOULMATE BOND by Alex Fireflower

The Porta Persa Edition, August 17

If the appeal of romance and the idea that a person whose devotion to us shall surpass eternity exists in our midst, among the younger generations, if there was any doubt in this matter, then the recent excitement for the coming Soulmate Bonding Ceremony is its colorful illustration. Alas, our dear friends of the State! It is once again time for the great and olden tradition of Soulmate Bonding. Here in this land of abundance and prosperity which gifts are said to be owed to this venerable ceremony, we must lay upon our trust and our fate to ancient magic, which we wholly believe shall lead our hearts to our destined soulmate--our lifetime partner, the other half of our soul, and so on. 

Yet our dear readers, allow this humble editor to argue the opposite. 

 It is established that the magic of Soulmate Bonding allows two persons, at most random strangers, to be paired together for a lifetime; sharing either emotions, thoughts or senses. Such a practice has always been placed under a rose-colored light by the government which, if simplified in broad terms is, in our opinion, a blatant propaganda for an obsolete tradition which endangers the wellbeing of our citizens, a practice which limits responsibility and free will, core values of which this land has been founded upon.

 If we shall suppose that a relationship between soulmates is perfect and blessed upon by the great heavens, then cases of arguments and cases of abuses would not exist as pests of our society, the destroyer of families and the trauma of children. If soulmate relationships are the pinnacle of success in family life, then divorce laws do not have any purpose to exist in our civil code, as custody battles do not have a place in our respectable courts. We are all blinded by the garish lighting provided by this dictatorship; through their flowery and romanticised propaganda we hear in the radios everyday as we sit down for breakfast or as we enjoy our pudding after dinner. This poor excuse of a government which has deceived its own people, seeks absolute authority through the most invasive ways known to man, inside the most intimate partnership a human being could experience in their entire life.

 By consuming this tomfoolery, we become puppets to romance, to impossible dreams, thus vulnerable to the mandates of this dictatorship. It is said that men, whose eyes are set high above the heavens, are doomed to fall off the cliff’s edge. There ought to be balance between idealism and pragmatism, lest we suffer the consequences of our own torn expectations of a perfect relationship and a good life. By relinquishing our right to choose, to exercise free will, we then must forget our roles as individuals, solely responsible for the effects of our choices. We then shall blame it on neutral magic, on fate and the Universe, the mistakes of our own doing. Aye indeed, let us ought to create the most convenient escape from our own flaws and our indecisiveness. Let us forever be destined to depend our lives upon the forces of the Universe, upon accidents of Nature!...

You smelled like ink. 

 The ugly, artificial scent of a printing press; ink. You had it on your hands as well, catching a freshly pressed newspaper as the midnight breeze blew upon a stack by the window. It was late yet the machine kept whirring, pressing, printing as piles of paper grew into hills and mountains of South Porta Persa.

 It would truly be unlucky to trip and make a mess of everything right now, you thought, inspecting the warm paper for any misspelt words or misaligned layouts with a careful eye. 

 “Good enough for' ya, darlin’?” A voice deep and rumbling interrupted your close inspection, his tone mischievous and mirthful as he wiped his hands clean on his trusty apron, the metal wrenches on it clattering about.

 It was good ole’ Jupiter, the ruler of the mechanical movable type in grand Porta Persa, a man late in his forties with a receding hairline to match. You had always liked him since you were a child, in his long beard and ink stained hands, and his various adventures at sea in his large Galleon. Yet now he is a master of the press, and you were his client.

 Giving a satisfied smile, you shrugged, placing the newspaper on top a stack without minding. 

 "Better than anywhere else, my good Sir," you replied, a trace of a laugh hinting to escape. "Nowhere I can trust The Porta Persa Edition to anyone other than in your expert hands." 

 He chuckled, his belly rumbling; just as anyone named 'Jupiter' should be. "Then I'm honered lass! As I'm honored to be Alex Fireflower's avid reader!" 

 "Oh stop flattering me," you chuckled, patting his shoulder. "Ah, it seems quite late now, isn't it? I better go." 

 Jupiter nodded. "Aye lass, you're movin' to the Academy tomorrow, innit? Ya should hurry home now before anyone catches ya!" 

 "Aye, captain!" You replied in a singsong voice, quickly moving to the exit. "Oh and please tell Soonyoung, if he comes over later in the morning that I need help with the bags! Thanks, Jupiter! May Jove kiss you on the asscheeks!"

 Kissing his cheek goodbye, you bounced down the stairs as you heard him bark in laughter and raced back to the home you have been staying since you were a child. Even as a daughter of the city alchemist, you lived humbly with your father in a two-story house with a style akin to stale bread. Yet he was usually absent, either in the homes of the sick or in some faraway place hunting ingredients for his potions. It didn't matter to you anyway. 

 Snuck behind the back door, you eventually reached your room and lit a gaslamp on your otherwise messy desk full of paper and books. It never gets cleaned up in some way or another, you thought.

 Sitting on your bed, you watched the glittering lights of Porta Persa at midnight, wondering if Alex Fireflower's words in that widely popular newspaper would lit a fire in people's hearts. Despite your young age, being a writer in a prolific paper was anxiety inducing, knowing how much words could stir up a person's sentiments.

 From afar, you could hear a faint melody of a love song between lovers, soulmates. A concept you disdainfully look down upon, if your writings were any indication to that. The bonding ceremony never sat well with you. You never understood those who excitedly and eagerly surrender their life to the whims of coincidence and then live to become happy. It was either a pretense or an 'anyone will do' type of situation. 

"Oh, isn't the ceremony later in the morning?" You remarked, peaking at the calendar on your desk. You shrugged. 

In any case, you have been prepared to deny this unwelcome intruder. It took a while to research but there were ways to suppress the connection between soulmates, mostly elaborate spellwork and potions. Yet you have been ready for years, almost a decade: casting spell upon spell on yourself and drinking disgusting potions, truly glad that you had an alchemist for a father. Now nothing will stand in the way between you and your aspirations. 

Getting a bit sleepy, you snuck in your sleeping gown and laid on the bed. Closing your eyes, and for once, leaving the rest for the Universe's turn in this game of chance. 

The next thing you came to was a dull throb on your head, something akin to a mediocre hangover, and a loud rapping on your front door. It was late in the morning. The birds were chirping, the loud clattering of bustling human activity and Soonyoung’s rather energetic shouting on your front door was grating on your ears. 

You tried to think of any reason why you were particularly not feeling a hundred percent today yet was once again interrupted by Soonyoung calling you out. 

Rolling off your bed however, made everything come crashing down on you. You lurched on the floor, thinking about throwing up yet none came, only your empty coughs and an uncomfortable pressure on your diaphragm were there. Your limbs were weak and trembled as you tried to lift your leg up, inevitably stumbling back to the floor and hitting your back against the bedpost in a painful thud. 

What is this…? 

In your pain, you grit your teeth, unable to utter anything with your dry throat. You tried to massage your temples to alleviate the throbbing, yet that was the exact moment you realized what was actually happening. With eyes as wide as saucers and a heart rate that seemed to increase in great increments, a cold sweat ran down your spine as you saw what was on your wrist. A cynical grin on your lips, you scoffed at the chances.  

 “...dammit,” you squeezed out, glancing at the bracelet-like tattoo around your wrist, in its clear straight horizontal bars and iridescent shine whenever you turned it around. You almost laughed at how ridiculous things were. Your greatest nightmare has happened while you were asleep. A bond has been formed. 

Finally having some sort of clarity, you were suddenly feeling much better, knowing what to do next. Dragging out a chest underneath your bed, you fished out a concoction which would weaken the suppressants you had induced upon yourself over the years. 

This was the side effect, you considered as you took the potion in one swallow. The suppressants would make you feel terribly ill, more so because this was day zero of the bond, but it will effectively block out the connection. On the other hand, you can weaken the blockage, yet it would as well restore the connection between you and your soulmate.

You cringed at the thought, yet there was no other choice. Today was moving day and you knew, without a doubt, that left alone for any longer, Soonyoung would break into your house, worrying something had happened to you. Something  did happen, yet it was none of his concern.  

And speaking of the devil, there he was rushing into your room; panting and sweaty from probably climbing the terrace and into one open window, as you hid your trunk of potions back under the bed. 

“Y/N! “ he  shouted, barging inside and spotted you dusting your lap as you stood up. “You weren’t answering the door, so I--“

“I’m fine,“ you interrupted, sensing energy forming at the base of your stomach as it wells up and stretches into a thin string. Hopefully, the amount of potion you drank was not too strong enough to lower your walls.

You shook your head. “Anyway, can you help me with my stuff? They’re already down the hallway, so we only have to carry them to the terminal.” 

“Oh, sure, sure. But seriously, are you alright?” Soonyoung asked, noting you were more closed off than usual. You only turned your back at him and walked towards your closet. 

“I’m fine, Soonyoung. Don’t worry,” you dismissed him. “Now, could you please allow me to dress myself up?” 

He was quiet for a while but eventually nodded, and left you in your ministrations. Sighing as he closed the door and disappeared, you struggled to keep yourself up. Just by lowering the suppressants, a tidal wave of thoughts barraged inside your head, immediately overwhelming you. They were obviously not yours and now you wondered if this was your connection, and if your soulmate was also thinking what you were thinking at that moment. Before you could arrive at an answer though, the thoughts once again stopped and your mind calmed down. 

You breathed in and out. There was no way you could truly understand what was happening. You can only form conjectures and draw theories yet none of them were absolutely irrefutable. You couldn’t understand why it suddenly stopped, but  nevertheless it was a welcome development. You can finally finish your chores without disturbance.  

As soon as you were done, you went downstairs to look for Soonyoung who seemed to have been waiting at the drawing room. He had already hailed a carriage to carry your belongings to the terminal, so you guessed it was only you they were waiting for.  

“I hope no one has called the police when you climbed through the terrace again,” you greeted him with a smile, your personal trunk on your hands.

“Nah, they know it’s just me,” he replied, grinning back as he took your trunk. 

Soonyoung was a childhood friend, the heir of a fine and lucrative shipping company among many in Porta Persa. He has a natural talent in mischief and a bundle of energy, yet surprisingly hard working. Together with you and Wonwoo, who was another friend, Soonyoung was currently preoccupied with The Porta Persa Edition as one of its editors. 

"We'll be seeing more of each other from now on!" He remarked excitedly, helping you up the carriage before joining in as well. "If you know what I mean." 

You sighed at his rather indiscreet methods of discretely conveying that you three were running a rather controversial newspaper. 

"How was today's paper though?" You asked as the carriage began moving and jumping around the cobblestones. 

Soonyoung grinned victoriously. "Folks were deliciously eating it by the news stands and Wonwoo said the Parliament and the Royal Elders were absolutely livid with Alex Fireflower's piece!" 

You feel a sweatdrop roll down your cheek. 

"It's kind of scary with the way you say that," you replied, and then continued with a more confident tone, "but I'm glad they got the message. People need to wake up from this farce." 

"You seriously hate the soulmate thing, huh?" Soonyoung commented. "I mean, I can't really say anything since I don't have my bond yet." 

You glanced at him, thinking of your own bond and instinctively hid your wrist underneath your gloves. 

"Lucky for you."

By the time you both arrived at the terminal, it was all a breeze from there. The teleportation portals were not as busy compared to other days, thus with just a cart and Soonyoung by your side, you have officially moved to the Royal Academy of Porta Persa. 

The Royal Academy of Porta Persa, or just the Academy, was a state-ran university, yet the most prominent among other universities in the area. Atop a hill overlooking the main port, it was constantly covered by wisteria and cherry blossom trees all year long thanks to magic, painting a surreal landscape for all of Porta Persa to see. 

"Even if I've seen this from my window every night, this is still quite a sight to take in," you exclaimed as you both walked towards the dormitories. 

Soonyoung gave a small smile. "I was like that last year, you know."

Due to the prestige of the Academy and its quality of education, only a select few can attend its venerable halls of learning: the elite and the intellectually gifted. You were lucky to be part of the latter group. The entrance examinations were intense yet you still made it, happy that you were finally able to attend their Effective Journalism class which was the reason why you wanted to go in the first place. 

"I'm sure your dorm master will tell you later, but I'm going to say it anyway," Soonyoung started as he pushed your cart up a slope. "In the dorm rooms, the ladies and the gents are separated."

He made it seem so controversial that you made a deadpan look by the time he finished talking.  

"I think that should be obvious by now." 

 "Eh? But aren't you disappointed? We can't brainstorm article ideas together with Wonwoo, you know!" 

 "But we can just talk in the courtyard." You shrugged, not really getting Soonyoung. 

 "We can't just talk in the courtyard! People will know we're The Porta Persa Edition!"

You stopped walking. "Soonyoung, the newspaper is registered in your name. I think, except my identity as Alex Fireflower, this is no longer any secret." 

He gave an exasperated sigh. "You're such a killjoy!"

"Oh, look. We're here," you pointed out, totally ignoring Soonyoung's comment. 

The girl's dormitory looked especially lavish with marble and ornate columns. Lilac wisteria trees dotted the surroundings, creating a flowery curtain around the dormitory. On the entrance way though was a female guard and the dorm master.

"I think I can manage from this point on," you said, taking the cart from your friend's grasps, "Thanks for your help though! I'll contact you later!"

"Oh if you say so then! Hope your roommate's nice though!" he replied, taking a step back and giving a small salute. "I'll wait for you and Wonwoo in the dorms! See you!" 

You gave a cheeky smirk and saluted him back before pushing your way inside the dorm. As you entered, the dorm master welcomed you with a polite smile in her dark floor length dress and clipboard in her hands. She was an older woman yet lacked the frightening aura dorm masters seemed to have. 

"Good morning! You are Ms. Y/N, I assume?" She asked and you nodded, showing your identification pin as proof. 

"Well unfortunately, we don't have any room in the main building, which is why we have decided that incoming students have to stay at the refurbished building." She started as she began walking you across the courtyard. "There were a lot of students last year, we really had no choice."

"I see. Well, I'm ok with anywhere, to be honest. As long as I have a bed and a desk to write on," you replied, gazing at the fancy architecture prominent among all the buildings. 

She chuckled. "Don't worry. The rooms are considerably bigger in the renovated building with a private bathroom and a small kitchen, though you have to share it with another person."

"That's quite fancy, huh? Looks like I still have my luck today," you replied with a chuckle, pushing your cart forwards. 

Shortly, the building you were to stay for the rest of your years in the university pulled into view. It was indeed massive and frighteningly grand, and seemed like only the rich can afford such residence, which definitely worried you. It would be quite difficult if you got paired with a snobby and spoiled princess of some far away land. 

Entering the building, you noticed that the hallways were no different with its golden inlays and dark marbled floors. Ceiling to floor windows graced on your left as the dorm master led you to the third floor (via an elevator) and to a wide ornate door. 

"I think it's this room." Fishing a set of keys from her pocket, she opened the door and led you inside.

To no surprise, it was an extravagant room. In your front was a sofa set by a fireplace which serves a sitting room for guests. The common room proper was separated by french doors and a wall of glass which looked like sets of windows.

You slowly took it in, unused to this kind of place. Taking a step forward, you looked around: there were fresh roses on the side table, bookcases filled with heavy tomes and encyclopedias, a scent of nearby cherry blossom flowers from an open window. 

This was definitely not what you had expected. This large room fit for royals was not what you had in mind when you imagined yourself living in the dorm rooms of the Academy. And it frightened you. 

"Do...do I have to pay for this?" You asked the dorm master who was waiting for you at the doorway. 

She smiled. "No need to worry, Ms. Y/N. All of your expenses here are paid by the state."

"Is it really alright for me to be here…" 

Your words faltered, thinking about how lucky and privileged you were to be living in this kind of place in the next few years, while there were others who stayed in a much humble dorm room. 

"Is it not to your liking?" The dorm master asked which you immediately denied. 

"No, no. This is good," you said. Too good even.

Your thoughts you flushed out before it could convince you to just stay at your family home. That would definitely not be ideal at all. Tentatively opening the french doors leading to the common room, what you saw was definitely not what you expected. 

Fresh from an immersive bath was a man, not much older than Soonyoung, in his half naked glory. 

"Who on earth are you?" He asked and you froze. 

Frozen because all you wanted to do was to wake up from this horrible nightmare of a day, or you wanted to evaporate there at your very spot from sheer embarrassment. 

Without a word, you immediately closed the door and ran back to the door where the dorm master was looking at you in confusion. 

"This…! This room is clearly occupied! By a man!" You nearly screamed at her, yet still held a bit of your composure. 

You could still see the afterimage of the man in your mind, his dark black hair wet, his toned body only covered by a mere towel. You furiously tried to erase it out of your eye sockets before you sink into the gutter.

"Huh? But the records say this room is occupied by Iris Appleby," she replied in panic, checking her clipboard over and over again. 

In the midst of her checking, the man emerged from the bedroom, now much more appropriate in trousers and a button up. He seemed to be a bit annoyed from the disturbance, you noticed. 

"I assume there must be some problem here," he said coolly, hands in his pockets. 

If anything, you thought the dorm master had seen a ghost from how pale she got just from taking a glimpse of the man. 

"Sir Lee Jihoon! I must apologize for this inconvenience!" She exclaimed tearfully. Her panic had doubled and was now frantically checking the records.

You blinked several times upon hearing the name, and then finally, it clicked a second after. 

The youngest parliament member, huh? 

"I'm sure there was some mistake! We thought this room was occupied by someone else, Sir! And it's the only available room we have!" The dorm master cried, and you grimaced. 

"Alright, madam. Please take a deep breath," you told her, patting her back. "We could check if there are other rooms left, okay?" 

"I already did through the clipboard! We have the dorm rooms monitored by magic tracing, yet in some way, only this room was registered with a wrong name," she replied as her shoulders sagged. 

"I don't mind her as a roommate," the third person involved finally spoke. "The rooms are separated and we only have to share the bath, the kitchen and the common room anyway." 

The dorm master seemed hopeful for that solution as she gave you a questioning look. Lee Jihoon also glanced at you, his sharp eyes seemingly judging. 

It's either here or back at home, huh? There was no way you're going back. 

"As I said earlier, madam, I can sleep anywhere as long as I have a bed and a desk," you replied with a reassuring smile and then gazed at Jihoon. "It's not really as bad as it looks." 

Ecstatic with your answer, the dorm master shouted her massive amount of gratitude and bowed farewell after giving you your keys.

Turning around, you faced Lee Jihoon who had his arms crossed, and an unimpressed look on his face. 

"I'm Y/N! First year History of Magic major! Nice to meet you, my roommate," you cheerfully introduced yourself yet was met with only sheer silence. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"This is the point where you also introduce yourself while shaking my hand and we then go on with the particulars of our own lives, never to interact again except when sharing the kitchen and the bath," you continued, clearly irked. 

He raised his brows at you in amusement. Taking your hand, he shook yours firmly. 

"Lee Jihoon, Magical Law, 2nd year. A pleasure as well," he replied, and then gave the most sarcastic smile you've ever seen, if you've ever seen one, before dropping your hand.

"Let's actively avoid each other from now on," he replied with his back turned. Walking away, Jihoon waved at you and then went towards his own room. 

Alone, the silence was empty. Yet you simply shrugged at the whole event. Having a politician as a roommate was way better than a princess.

Dragging your cart of belongings inside, you went to what you assumed was your room, opposite to Jihoon's. You noticed that the common room consisted of another ornate fireplace, a large gilded table and a high tech kitchen fueled by fire-charged stones. There were also a few pieces of expensive decor which would really suck if you managed to break one. 

The common room was fancy, and your room was, of course, no different. It was a bit bare yet it was already filled with furniture. The canopy bed was at the center; a tall curtained window behind it, as well as a set of chairs just in front of a fireplace. A desk and a few bookshelves was at the far right, near the door. Your closet was a walk-in type, you observed, yet immediately grimaced, knowing you never had that much clothes in the first place. 

Huffing, you sat on a lounge chair at the end of the bed. (It wasn't dusty, thank god.) Yet today was by far the most exhausting day you had. 

Removing the glove on your right hand, you checked if the soulmate marking was really there or just an early morning nightmare of yours. It was still there though, glistening against the midday sunlight from the window. 

It looked innocent that way, just black horizontal bars. Yet its meaning was something you wished did not exist at all.

--!!

All of the sudden, you felt a sharp pang on your head, followed by a sound of static on your ears and a barrage of muddled thoughts in your head. You grabbed a fistful of your hair to at least calm it down a bit yet it was for naught.

A bad migraine, you convince yourself. It was definitely not.

Struggling at the lounge chair for several minutes left you panting and nauseous. There was no solution to this as this was of course the result of you tampering with the connection. You felt like banging your head on the wall because of the pain and because of your own sheer stubbornness, yet that wouldn't really solve anything, will it?

Before you could even contemplate asking your roommate for help, the pain and the overwhelming confusion disappeared and left you in a state of clarity. 

Exhausted, you closed your eyes and sighed.

"I never knew you detest me so much, my dear soulmate." 

Those were definitely not your thoughts.

CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 | CHAP 5 | CHAP 6 | * A/N: HII! This is Hyeri!! (I deleted my first post ;;w;;) It’s been a long time! Here’s a JIhoon fic to start things up! This, I guess my goal for this is to deconstruct the soulmate au??? Srsly, I’ve been watching a lot of anime reviews...

[awkwardplant]

Sci-fi/Misc Short Story: Diorama

Weary travellers entered a building to escape from the zombies that had been chasing them. Night-time drew closer and only a little bit of sunlight filtered through the large dusty windows at either side of the room. Despite the dust, everything here looked pristine, unsurprising as it didn't seem the materials here were much use to survivalists.

"Is that an easel?" Johnny the Veterinarian wandered over to the contraption, lifting away a greyed cloth covering it, revealing a canvas with a few marks of brown oil pastels.

A younger member of the team who refered to himself as the Tailor (everyone else called him Ed, or the Cosplay Guy, or That Teenager) dove into some drawers and boxes. "Please tell me there's a non electrical sewing machine, or fabrics, ooh I'll even take sequins at this point! Anything I don't have to make from scratch."

"Don't think this type of place will have those kinda things, Ed. Looks like a kindergarten's arts and crafts room." said Johnny. "Might have glitter though."

Paul the Farmer rolled his eyes at his group. "No point lookin round 'ere, let's settle down, find somethin soft, and kip for the night." He shrugged off his backpack which carried the all the bare essentials it could hold, and popped his spine with a groan. "Food chain these days is all outta whack I tell ye."

At the entrance, Melissa the Engineer boarded up the door with some convenient planks of wood, nails, and a hammer she carried everywhere. "Oughta keep them out. Phew. Bit cold in here isn't it?"

Melissa's daughter, Isla the six year old, stood in the middle of the art studio, eyes filled with wonder at all the creations. Clay sculptures of graceful torsos, pencil drawings of still lifes that looked more or less exactly like the sketches, completed oil paintings of landscapes hung on the wall next to colorful, abstract ones.

Isla spied a light still on behind a door to another room left slightly ajar. "I see a light, do you think someone lives here?"

All the adults tensed and raised their weapons, eyes peering in the direction Isla curiously tiptoed towards. Paul hissed at her to slow down, firmly grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back behind him as he stared ahead. The air was silent aside from the floorboard's weak groans that sounded like a sigh of relief at the return of humans gracing its surface.

Johnny tapped lightly on the door which opened without any creaks or spooky noises, and revealed a warm orange glow of a desk lamp. The desk was cluttered with tiny objects you would expect to see at much bigger sizes such as doors and furniture. Several drawers of multiple sizes surrounded and sat on the desk filled to the brim with paints, glue, craft knives and other materials. A single mug rested on a green cutting board with some stale coffee inside.

Isla squeaked in delight as she darted across the room. "Mommy! There's dollhouses here!"

Melissa strode towards her daughter, blinking in surprise when seeing there was in fact what appeared to be multiple dollhouses meticulously displayed in glass cases on many shelves.

"Some strange looking dollhouses," Ed said. "Why would a kid want to play with a dollhouse that looks like a swamp?" He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at the minature shack on stilts that sat atop fake greenery and resin water.

Paul chuckled. "And this ane's even got tiny critters from my farm! Now tell me that isnae just the spittin image of my wee goat." He tapped the glass of a mini farm with toy animals placed in the field.

"I think, uh..." Johnny clicked his fingers, brow furrowing. "I swear I remember... Ah well, I don't know the proper name of them but I've seen train sets that have these kind of things, do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah!" Melissa chirped. "This is how they used to make movie sets isn't it? Because back then they didn't have CGI to make places they couldn't afford to go to when filming."

"And humanity has reverted back to that time period." sighed Ed, who greatly missed his Friday night Star Wars rewatches with his friends. "Maybe even further back than that. Losing the internet was like losing the Library of Alexandria."

All of them wandered around the shelves to look at all the miniature sets. Mountains formed purely by plastic foam, a landscape of a picnic inside an open altoid tin, a greenhouse cluttered with plants no bigger than a pinkie finger. Some miniatures sat on the floor, the ones that were massive compared to the other sets yet still very tiny versions of medieval castles and gothic architecture.

Melissa stopped in front of a small library room that had holes in the ceiling with trees growing beneath them, books and furniture meticulously littered everywhere. Flashbacks to her days studying in her hometown's library filled her mind.

"This is what they thought the apocalypse would look like." she said, with tears welling up in her eyes. "They thought- they- they made art of stuff like this because they imagined it would look beautiful. How could they romanticise such disaster?"

Johnny walked up next to her, crouching down to see inside the library. "Hauntingly beautiful, maybe. I do remember certain types of people were fascinated with the idea of nature reclaiming the lands that humans built on."

"And that idea was dumb," said Paul. "Because now the deer are overpopulated and they destroyed the forests, and who knows what other animals are causing chaos without conservationists."

"There are pros and cons to everything that happens." Johnny replied. "But yes, it doesn't help that the handful of humans that are left don't know how to handle this... resurgence of nature."

Isla looked around, peering back through the door to the main room of the art studio. "This library dollhouse looks just like real life doesn't it? It's like we're little dolls too."

Melissa smiled sadly, stroking her daughter's hair. "It does put things in perspective." She hoped things would settle down enough for her to be able to teach Isla things she had learned in school at her age.

"The Earth is the size of a pinprick compared to the sun and we're all just ants in the grand scheme of things." Ed said, and one could guess he was trying to imagine how small he was compared to the Starkiller base.

Paul snorted. "But bigger than regular old ants and smart enough to put together nicknacks that make ladies cry." He nudged Melissa teasingly.

Eventually, the group finally realized that the lamp was connected to a solar powered generator with a back up of energy reserved and they attempted to recharge their walkie talkies. After a few near-electrocutions, they finally connected to a radio station broadcasting a rather laid back distress signal.

"This is DJ Smooth calling out to anyone, God, just anyone out there, from the abandoned military base in Alconbury. Been out here for uh, 3 months now, there's not been any zombie sightings for a while and I have been sooo bored. Come find me and we can hang out, maybe fight over my remaining supplies so I can remember how to feel something that isn't dissociation. Stay tuned after this music break for the co-ordinates to my location, and my heart. See ya soon cuties. Over."

Later that night everyone created some makeshift beds out of the cloths that had covered some artworks and easels, which Ed would repurpose at some point during their travels to make some new socks. They all lay on their backs in the dark, close to each other to conserve warmth. If there were any zombies outside they didn't hear them, only the rush of wind and rain pattering on the windows.

"Mommy," Isla whispered. "I liked the song that the man on the radio played."

"Yeah sweetie, I liked it too. It was... something from the 90's? I think? Probably not age appropriate but you didn't understand it so it's fine, I guess. Something funny to look back on one day."

Isla rolled over onto her stomach to look at her mom. "When we go back to Paul's farm I want to play the guitar we found."

"We can't go... Tell you what Isla, we'll go see the music man from the radio, and he'll help us cure the zombies, and then we can get everyone an instrument and all make music together."

"Yes! That's a good idea!"

"And we can do plays in theatres and make movies again." Ed added shyly.

"Movies that don't involve zombies and will make us forget this shitshow ever happened." Johnny sighed, unable to close his eyes and dreading the nightmares.

Paul growled and hushed the others, but then he said "Doesnae matter if zombies are out for us and we've got no artsy stuff, we can still sing."

They all sang Country Roads quietly (Isla could only sing the chorus yet sang with such sincerity), with gentle echoes of their melody bouncing off the walls of the art studio until they fell asleep.

The next day they left to find the military base and made up new songs along the way, with renewed and desperate hope that they might find a cure for the zombies someday soon.

The end.

[mucky-puddler]

Here is Kubrick blog no. 2

So, this week I’ll be looking at Kubrick’s early work (again), Paths of Glory, and the introduction of Depth of Field; Stanley Kubrick, film, and the uses of history – yes, that is the whole title.

The first thing Nathan had us all do was shout out any themes we could think of that Kubrick had used in the films we had watched so far. This list ended up being ridiculously long and appeared to contain every film under the sun (which is something I never understood – creatives don’t really think about themes when creating things, it just kinda happens, so what is the point in listing themes to look at?). Here are a few examples of themes we named;

- Madness

- Masculinity

- Obsession

- Photography

- Chess

- Brutality

- Violence

- Animalism

- Sport

- Fathers/mothers

We then reviewed the Seafarers (again) and looked deeper at the shot composition used; one of the more obvious ones was the shot change from machinery to people, suggesting that within the seafarer community the people are simply machines designed to complete certain tasks.

Let’s move on to the man himself. It has been suggested that Kubrick makes his films for men, and the evidence is as such – his characters fulfilled the stereotypes of having the damsel in distress and the knight in shining armour, making his female characters weaker and in need of assistance, he would often utilise the male gaze to sexualise women (as seen in the Seafarers when the camera pans up and holds on the image of a naked calendar), all of which makes him seem misogynistic. Alternatively, Kubrick could just be representing the world around him – personally, I think we give people who grew up during the 40’s and 50s much more credit than they deserve – there is no way we can assume that so many people during that time felt the way we all feel now, because the times have changed so much and we don’t want to ruin our idealised, romanticised perspective of a different time. I’m not saying that there weren’t people that thought this way, I have no doubt that there were, I just don’t believe that everyone thought that way. In every single piece of media I have studied where there is some injustice, the argument has always been made that they were “representing the views of the time”, inferring that the creators did not have the same views when it is entirely possible that their own views aligned with the unjust perspective they present.

Okay, rant over for now.

Something else I picked up on, that is somewhat related to what I’ve said above, is how Kubrick used his camera to give himself as much freedom as possible. Kubrick was commissioned to film the Seafarers as a promotional piece, meaning there was very little creative liberty given to Kubrick – what he did have control over was the camera movement. It would appear that his favourite were the long tracking shots, giving the audience long takes of the food hall (and the food itself, to a pornographic extent).

Another clear feature is Kubrick’s sense of humour – his sense of humour was young, like that of a teenage boy (hence the calendar shot). He would sneak as much suggestive evocative imagery through the loopholes into his films to entertain his audience.

And now for our word of the week – Gematria; Greek for geometry, turning letters into numbers, giving the numbers power, meaning texts have hidden codes.

It has been suggested that Kubrick used gematria in his films – critics and fanatics have spent hours poring over his films, trying to discover the hidden meanings behind the numbers and text he leaves in the shots. The numbers 7 and 3 are said to be popular numbers in Kubrick’s films but no one has figured out why yet. I personally don’t see the point in obsessing over every pixel in a shot to mangle it into an alternative meaning, but some people enjoy it, so you do you.

The last thing I took from the lecture was that theme and style should be considered together, especially over the many films brought to life by a single director. For Kubrick, we should look at similar themes through films like 2001 and Spartacus and Lolita, just to name a few.

Now onto the film – the film we watched this week was Paths of Glory. Like all of Kubrick’s films so far, it starts with a lovely bit of narration and a somewhat boring long shot – expositional, some would call it. Both these features together let us know that we are in for a war-time film. For almost the entirety of the rest of the film, I couldn’t understand what these characters were saying, So I had to gather the deeper plotlines from context. Something I drew from the film was how realistic it was for a film of that era; it does not romanticise war like others have, it is a good example of strong men being scared to obey orders, then suffering the consequences.

Here is something about the film that confused me – there is a single shot that pans around the characters to watch them leave, and a washing bowl that was used at the beginning of the scene comes back into the shot – why? It is not referenced at all in the scene, or even the rest of the film. Why was that shot included? Was it because it looks cool? Thinking about it deeper, the character played by Kirk Douglas was using it at the beginning of the scene – this character goes on to defend the men who get called to trial for ‘not following orders’ but assigning their deaths anyway because of the the decision of the court. To someone who grew up religious, this sounds familiar (that’s right, we got Jesus imagery right here). Kirk Douglas’ character could be reflected as Pontius Pilot – he washes his hands of the blood of the men under his command (as demonstrated by the washing bow) – making the men that were sacrificed as an example to the rest a reflection of Jesus – they were strung up to poles.

Let’s now talk about authority, an obvious theme in this film. There appears to be two types of authority – those who care about the mission, and those who care about the people. The general, who is the former of these two authorities, could be considered obsessed with winning the battle and then the war, and does not consider casualties (he’s a bit of a dickhead). On the other hand, the colonel’s concern is for the men and the logic behind why they did not obey orders (which makes sense). There is, as there is with reality, challenge and contention within and between the ranks; everyone wants to either impress their superiors or undermine them. Within the theme of authority, I’m going to make up a sub-theme – authority vs reality; those in higher authority have an idea that they want to execute, and put it into action without thinking about the factors that could make it possible e.g. the men that would have to die to make their ideas a success. The reality of the ideas is that it most likely isn’t possible, and hundreds of men would die in the process before the authority would begin to realise. One of my favourite scenes from the film is when the fate of the selected men are being decided by the colonel and two generals, one of whom is for killing them in a court-martial, the other hearing reason and willing to give them a fair(ish) trial. The colonel is framed between the two generals, and at first, I thought it would have made more sense to have the more neutral general framed between the two arguing parties. However, after a second thought, the colonel is the one frames between two opposing but equal forces – they are the angel and devil on his shoulders (hell year).

Ah yes, we love a courtroom drama, a turn I did not expect this film to make – it reminded me of the courtroom scene in Hacksaw Ridge (such a good film), and I feel this is a fair comparison; the intensity was continual and high, there was a ‘will they, won’t they’ vibe to it, and an all-round good scene for both films. Only with “Paths of Glory”, I hated the son-of-a-bitch prosecutor and the court for clearly favouring him, giving way to another sub-authority theme – humanity vs the court. Like the overbearing general, the court sides with the authority rather than reason – I thought the defence was not given the opportunity to give their case to the fullest extent, even though their evidence was solid.

The final theme I’m going to look at is religion (catholic flavour) – there isn’t a whole lot to say here as it doesn’t play a huge role in the film, the only religious figure (other than the Jesus imagery) is the father that comes to bless those who were chosen to be sacrificed as an example to the others.

Okay, onto the reading – this reading doesn’t really have anything to do with the film specifically, and I only got through the introduction again. These people really need to calm down with their intros because I’m never going to actually read something of merit if they keep their intro’s long. The book I read is called “Depth of Field: Stanley Kubrick, Film, and the uses of History”. One of the first things it discusses is the phrase ‘depth of field’, because it’s meaning it two-fold; the first is concerning photography, as depth of field refers to how sharp and in focus parts of a shot are (which is relevant to Kubrick because he loved photography, so would be able to use depth of field to his advantage), and the second is in reference to researching and trying to understand as much about an area of expertise as possible (this could be Kubrick researching for his films, or could be these critics learning as much as they can about Kubrick – I suspect it’s the latter).

Also, they spoke very briefly about how what is in the frame is the only thing that can “portray the world of human emotion/feeling and action realistically”. I completely disagree with this statement – there are so many elements that goes into portraying human emotion, like music, rhythm, acting lighting, just to mention a few.

Something else I don’t quite understand is how/why directors are praised for working in multiple genres over their career – how is it different to a student having to do multiple courses or modules at the same time? Surely, they just work in whatever genre they want to at the time?

This might just become a list of things I don’t understand because we already know that Kubrick liked to have control over every single aspect of the film, but according to this introduction, he let the cast and crew experiment with their tasks? How does that work?

A quote I found interesting is this – “…seen as bringing the terrible news of the twentieth-century history…to a mass audience” – sorry what? What is this even saying? Is he translating what was happening around him into film for other people to better understand? But if that is the case, then the ‘terrible news’ would have already passed because of how long it takes to make and distribute a film. Why aren’t these people reading the news? Surely no one relies solely on film to give them ‘terrible news of the twentieth-century history’? Or does this mean the people outside of America, seeing as global news was not yet prevalent?

Anyway.

Adorno is a man that pops up a few times in this intro and is said to have said “art and ideology are becoming one and the same thing” and I honestly love that because it’s kinda true. This is also the same guy that said “poetry became impossible after Auschwitz” which is the kind of deep, philosophical shit I enjoy.

This intro really does jump all over the place because then they discuss how Kubrick primarily adapted texts that weren’t already popular, with the exceptions of The Shining and Lolita, so his audience could judge his work as his own rather than an adaptation. This seems a little selfish to me. Like he’s not acknowledging the fact that it’s someone else’s work?

I do plan on reading more than just the intro’s to the actual readings, but it’s so difficult because the intros are so long! Also, somehow this blog ended up being longer than the last one, I don’t know how that happened, please don’t hate me.

[becomestorm]

the night was nature's sort of quiet. she awoke to the sound of crickets with something soft against her, stirring. they must have fallen asleep. lotus dragon's brow knit, they looked troubled. she shifted herself so their head could rest against something softer. fingers carded through threads of ebony, her other hand held onto theirs, softly she sang a lullaby. maybe... just maybe their nightmare could be changed to a dream. she'd hate to wake them when rest was so hard for them to find.

unscripted nugget.

❛   you aren’t a burden.

ren was but three summer’s old when the cruelty of the extended lie family made their first impact. a noble and endangered lineage must conserve their bloodline, while at the same time weeding out the weak. lie fei hong was beautiful and charming, but ren loved her because she was kind. the first to aid them when they would fall and graze their knee, she’d weave their hair, protect them from teasing, and she was by far ren’s favourite cousin. none of this mattered to their patriarch, and because she was not gifted in academics or huntress skills she was married into a different family. a baby ren didn’t understand until far far later, and had thought fei just decided to go and leave them behind. the second instance of cruelty came not long after that. six years old and they were betrothed, doomed to suffer the same fate as their beloved fei. from a very young age, ren knew that love was not for them. that choice had been made for them, along with their future. they would not be a burden, they would uphold the family honour. this is how lies treated their loved ones.

❛   please,   just stay for a little while.   i don’t want to be alone.

ren was eight   (   on the eve of spring equinox, they had been eight and a day   )   when they learned of sacrifice. their mother, beloved lie zhilan, youngest daughter of the patriarch, ran away with her roguish lover and a child born out of wedlock. dispute about ren’s stance as an heir had made them them the target of ridicule since they were born, and so both parents would eventually elope to oniyuri. or so they thought. there they sacrificed everything to keep their child safe   ;   their statuses, their lives, their home, and then their lives. the stupid little fantasies in ren’s novels would often forgo the devastation, and romanticise loss in the name of love, would sugarcoat the complexes and deep seated heartache of tearing apart such vital pieces of themselves. that had been love. it had been in the way their mother would light up when father came home, when she cried over missing her siblings, when he’d brush her hair behind her ears, when she tended to his wounds. when an, and ren, would be the only one to make li smile on his worst and most painful days. this is how rens treat their loved ones.

❛   you aren’t alone.

an affinity for ice had named her glacial girl. the snowstorm of her trademark schnee hair, white wild blue fire in her eyes had deterred all but those select few from understanding the fragility of her faith. broken by the man meant to mould her, and then countless others who had tried to tear apart her innocence had forced her hand. ‘round her a fortresses of frozen walls had erected, waiting for that which might wait patiently for one of them to melt. her reflection would often dance in shadows of this ice prison, every so often ren would spy a smile, hear a laugh, coax out the mysticism of the stars on long lonely nights with naught but bitter brew to keep them company. there was kindness there, in how the walls would melt just enough to water the flowers ren planted by the citadel walls. ren had stopped waiting for them to melt, content that come what may they’d be happy with what they had. they’d all but stopped paying attention ‘til the second they’d been lost to their own inner turmoil, a tempest had ravaged their own barriers and left them vulnerable in the wake of their pain. without noticing, princess had emerged from the walls to wrap them in her fine velvet cloak.   (   “ it’s me. don’t worry, i’ll make sure you’re safe. ”   )   there, where ren had learnt of love’s sacrifice, they allowed themselves to feel again.

❛   how is your grimm statistics report going   ?

what was love   ?   they wondered. they ought to. their very name could mean it. ren, by definition   :   benevolence, humanity, and love. qing ren, by definition   :   lover. for so long their semblance had deprived them of such thoughts, allowed them to feel nothing but grief, anger, and sadness. it had taken them too long to see them morph into something new, the old ache in their chest that would pang with loneliness now did so with something else instead, something indescribable because ren had never known it themselves. they had seen it, heard of it, read about it, dreamt of it, maybe, but never experienced it. in equal parts the new feeling was elation and hurt, anxiety and calm, solemnity and fury. it was too much, and too little. it was the taste of blueberry smoothies, the pleasant flutter of butterflies kissing skin, the sight of a star sea across a vast open field, the sound of girlish chimed laughter ringing with delight. it was watching the flush spread across the apples of cheeks, the silken caress of starlit strands on long scarred fingers, and the thumping heartbeat at the sight of pearlescent tears, her hands outstretched and cradling their treasured resin charm.

❛   ah,   mine’s already finished.

ren rarely reached sleep deep enough to have nightmares, but when they did they were always suffocating. the smog of nuckelavee breath was a staple, until grimm ichor was near palpable on their tongue. it coated their mouth, and lungs and congealed until breathing felt like a hot drag across a pit of coals. in them they always see and hear the voices of their loved ones falling into into the abyss of blackened primordial tar, and they are always too late. they live to see everyone die before them. cooling touch along their hand beckoned they turn the other way, and just like that waking was instantaneous, but not jarring. ren’s eyes remained closed, but their synapses started firing off gathered intel. were they safe   ?   yes. were their weapons nearby   ?   not apparent. what else   ?   ren focused quietly on the feeling of weiss’ hand trail through the choppy strands framing their face. they could tell it was her because of her scent, floral with a hint of vanilla, signature even when at beacon. they could remember the scent of her blanket when she would shroud it over their sleeping form. her cloak in kuroyuri had carried the same scent. upon recognition, their head tilted down into the pillow of her lap, puffing out a few clouds of lily scented smoke. happiness. safety.

❛   i used to be terrified of the dark.

the dragon had been on their side, facing the outer edge of the couch. still feigning sleep they rolled over so their forehead pressed into her hip, so they could curl in on themselves and hide their face. they couldn’t remember the last time they’d entrusted those parts of themselves to someone without fear they would break them, or how she allowed them into parts of her life other people rarely got to see. even when they’d only met one another they had the instinctive knowledge that the both of them crafted masks, even if their reasons differed. who was the last person they’d trusted to cradle their broken pieces   ?   not even nora knew the extent of the damage in kuroyuri. if she had seen them break down like they had, then it wasn’t since they were children. throughout their nightmares in beacon, their long sleepless nights, and in the recovery process of the nuckelavee’s defeat weiss’ presence had been a soothing balm over decade long wounds. and they had allowed her something terrifying, the ability to ruin them, some reign over their emotions that should she leave, should she pass, ren wasn’t sure if they could handle the heartache.

oh, gods.

❛   it is quite ridiculous,   isn’t it   ?

if they focused hard enough, they could hear the slight clink noise of their red thread bracelet on her wrist, the silver clasps touching. eyes barely opened, they brimmed until they couldn’t see beyond the distortion of their lashes. ren bit down on their lip to stop any sound from escaping, willed their body to stop seizing. a single tear fell from the duct of hazy magenta hue and rolled across their nose bridge, over a cheekbone to drip onto weiss’ skirts. the only sound grounding them was her lullaby, murmur quiet to a backdrop of crickets and night song.

❛   not in the slightest.

i’m in love.

…

i’m terrified.

@fractaele​​.

[kingsofchaos]

I had an idea, and it kinda made sense to me. What if the cops are also immortal? Or maybe not all of them but Key members, and they and the fakes have been doing this dance for centuries. They chased Geoff through the French Revolution, caught Jack a few times Stealing planes in WW1, so on.

Oooh! I actually thought about bringing in immortal cops (would be probably the only way I’d have RT people in the LSPD because I don’t want to kill them oops) but I tend to always consider it as more of a purgatory type situation, all gaining immortality at the same time in the cursed hellscape that is Los Santos. I love your version, with the long term historic kind of fahc immortality, because there are just so many ways it could go.I mean

1. You could go for something really ridiculous and full on, something like immortality itself being stolen in the first place, because humans were never meant to live forever were they? Were never meant to have this kind of power, but where something of great importance exists there will always be people willing to steal it. It’s an object of the Gods, maybe, of the Devils, perhaps, something ancient and terrible, something forgotten and far too tempting to stay that way forever. Not when people like the man who would one day be Geoff Ramsey exist to find and steal it, when the original iteration of Jack Pattillo is around to share it with, not when Ryan, still James, kills them both and takes it only for the dead to track him down and take it back. Not when Gavin has always had sticky fingers, always been a thief, or when any version of Michael would follow him into hell and back, not when Jeremy was always going to jump headfirst into action, touch strange glowing objects first and worry about the ramifications later.But objects like that don’t stay forgotten forever. Objects like that aren’t left unattended. Others have touched it before, of course, immortal beings who were meant to stand guard, who return to their post to find the object missing. Who comb the earth to track the thieves, playing at law enforcement to avoid detection, avoid even more mortals stumbling across secrets they should not know, but while the criminals are found over and over across history the object is never recovered. Even when the FAHC settle in one place, choose fight over flight and demand answers to some questions of their own, even when the trackers infiltrate the LSPD and raid every place the Crew owns, even then the object remains hidden. Because immortal beings the pseudo-cops may be but the FAHC are human, at least mostly, in all the ways that count. Human in their creativity, their deviousness, their cruelty. Human in their their unlimited ability to adapt, to learn and conquer, to outwit anything and anyone no matter how old, how timeless. So war is waged right under the nose of society, each side keeping their secrets but neither concerned with collateral damage, a city turned battleground for those who cannot die, the nightmare that is Los Santos.Then again:

2. It could be far more simple, where immortals just somehow happen at some point, with no connection to one another, except perhaps some sense that there are others, an odd pull to one another. In the way of humanity throughout history the divide between these immortals is simply human nature, the inclination of some to use their advantages selfishly while others look to protect the greater good. The Fake’s, of course, are individuals who upon realising their own immortality quickly work out that they are now in a better situation than anyone around them, that they can do just about whatever they want with no real consequences, and go wild with the power. Thieves and mobsters, criminals and cult leaders, notorious names in history and unknown puppeteers - over the years the one-day members of the Fake AH Crew have done it all.  They meet up eventually, hundreds of years apart, perhaps temporarily as rivals but overlapping interests and shared ability quickly sees them joining forces. Sees them becoming the most dangerous group history has ever seen. That history keeps on seeing, in many different forms and under many different names over the years but never any less formidable. The eventual immortal members of the LSPD, who’ve been everything from soldiers to international intelligence to vigilantes themselves were never any less dangerous. There have always been famous detectives, always been soldiers who survived the unsurvivable, law enforcement who’ve gone above and beyond, and like the Fake’s these individuals are eventually drawn together under their shared quest for justice. Imbued as they are with a sense of virtuous purpose, assured their role on earth is to police the corrupted immortals and prevent them from raining hell upon normal people, these officers have long been just as merciless as the criminals they hunt. They’ve dogged the Fake’s wherever they’ve gone for centuries, first individually and now as a group, set up for the long haul in Los Santos, doing their very best to curtail the criminal behaviour and prevent the death of those who will not come back to life. It’s a battle they are all locked into now, a duty for the police, a defiance for the FAHC, bloody and vicious and all kinds of unforgiving, on and on into eternity.Or alternatively:

3. For the less serious sort of version of the FAHC - immortal criminals vs immortal justice seekers, still at odds of course, always pitted against one another as the Fake’s fight for selfish gain and power and the cops fight to keep them contained, but maybe it’s all become a bit mundane. Maybe eternity has given them all a bit of perspective, thrown them together for far too long to stay entirely objective, to keep themselves separate. They are all the only immortals any of them know, after all, the only ones stuck in this loop, so maybe they’re on opposite sides but they’d have to talk to one another now and again. Eventually learn more than names, learn like and personalities, not friends, no, but certainly a kind of camaraderie, a familiarity that could almost be fondness in the right light, inevitable after countless lifetimes in each other’s presence. Inevitable when there’s no end in sight, no grand finale, no true winner or loser in this never ending pantomime of life and death. Sure, no one likes dying, no one enjoys the pain or the inescapable flicker of fear, no one wants to explain away their lack of injury or, when the death is too public, create a whole new identity, but you can only take murder personally for so many centuries. Can only hold onto anger for so long before it becomes a little trivial. A little childish. No matter how much Hollywood loves to romanticise supernatural grudges the reality is far less passionate - do anything on loop for 500 years and the fire is sure to dwindle, the emotions mute, shit gets fucking boring.The never ending battle wages on, the conflict between two sides that will never see eye-to-eye, and the ever-changing nature of society and technology keeps the fights themselves from growing too stale, but when you run side-by-side with someone for this long there are only so many righteous monologues you can make before you start feeling a little silly. Sometimes you’re going to see Geoff and Jack at a cafe getting breakfast, or Lindsay and Jeremy at the store debating hair dye brands, and you just have to keep walking. Sometimes you’ll sit down next to Michael and Gavin getting drunk at the bar, will see Trevor and Matt filling a shopping trolley with energy drinks and candy bars, spot Ryan wandering around without that ridiculous mask he’s picked up this time around, and just move on.Because you’re enemies, yes, and tomorrow you’ll be back at war, but today you’ve got a date or tickets to that one movie or haven’t had a coffee yet. Today you’re tired or hungry or just need to talk to someone who isn’t Frank because honestly fuck Frank anyway he’s been hung up on that one ruined shirt for seventy goddamn years, Christ almighty. So you look away, or they look away, or you exchange awkward nods that are perhaps less uncomfortable than they should be, silent acceptance that you’ll pick this fight up another day. Because hey, there will always be another day.

[honeyedmilks]

strong woman do bong soon- the tumbly review

this is gonna come out as a straight up hate post from a tired soul, about a show that could’ve been everything but wasn’t, and i make no apologies for that. it’s messy and unkind (not as unkind as i could be) but... i’m fairly honest.

what i’ll be talking about: 

Strong Woman Do Bong Soon (2017)

a biased summary by :

Do Bong Soon, our female lead (played by Park Bo Young), is super strong- thanks to a power that’s been passed down the ladies of her family for years. there’s a serial woman hater in her neighbourhood terrorising everyone, and she gotta stop that asshole! there’s also some good looking men in this show with like four love lines too keep things interesting, and some flailing gangsters who are out there too that she beats up now and then, drinking feces wine. And if this sounds like an awful mess then good, i’m doing the show great justice then. 

a general statement and warning about this show: 

it’s not good. if you’ve not seen it then please do not waste your time and instead watch literally anything else. i say this out of love for you. if you want a female lead who’s cool and cute and punches things then watch legend of the blue sea. it may not be perfect but it’s better than this.

the production: 

the show is visually very pretty in some sense. stylish wardrobe choices, nice landscape shots, cool sets, and a whole showcase of good looking people. 

the directing and special effects, the tone of the show, it can all border cheesy, but the intent is to come off quirky, funny and energetic seeing as this a story about a woman with super human strength. 

it’s a bit comic bookish, which again makes sense due to the nature of the show and it’s characters. except it doesn’t work all the time. especially not when the bad guy of your show is hardly a comic book character. he’s a misogynistic guy who likes beating up woman and kidnapping them for his own twisted pleasures. 

the directing and writing of this show fails to balance out the light and the dark in this show, by downplaying Bong Soon’s powers and by diluting the story with meaningless backstories and characters we didn’t need. 

the performances of our leads vary. but the main cast are well known actors, and carry a lot of talent.

Bo Young manages to make our heroine likeable and relatable for a while. She’s believable and gives the show some spark.

Ji Soo who plays our muddled in the heart copper Guk Doo, can be painful to watch in the first half, you end up not liking him and his harshness, but Ji Soo brings a likeable softness to him in the later half. 

Park Hyung Sik, much adored and admired by fans, takes on the role of our lonely chaebol, but he’s not just rich and sad guys, he’s also a video game creator, spy man and tech genius, with flawless skin, who goes by the name Ahn MInhyuk. Hyung Sik’s performance starts off lovably eccentric, bouncing between suave and smart, only to slowly dissipate into boring and even annoying. I’ll talk more about him later. 

our side characters are even harder to digest- mostly unlikable, with the funnies wearing off far too early in the long run of the show, we don’t care much for them- except from the woman, held hostage by the shitty but uninteresting serial villain.

there were so many plot points that were awful that just slashed the quality of the show too pieces, and i can’t even begin to talk about them.

the soundtrack is nice. it matches the zany inside of the show for the most part. it’s noticeably more fun when we get to Bong Soon’s super hero antics. 

the show is bright, bubbly and cleanly set on the outside when it’s a cutesy office rom com, but turns bleak and even mesier when it tries to get serious. 

the romance: 

loads of people say that they only finished this show for otp loveliness but i couldn’t relate. 

people made gif sets with epic romantic quotes... you know those quotes where it’s like “that one guy who looks at this super strong woman and they’re awesome and shit and he loves her strength and shit...” you know those kind? yeah that’s nonsense. here’s why i think so:

Minhyuk sucks as a romantic lead and a partner well mostly when you ship him with Bong Soon. i’m not gonna lie. i was really excited for them at the start, i was head over heels for those moments when he called her sexy for calling him out on being useless and such. i liked their friendly interactions together, but... when you add her strength in the mix, everything turns sour for me. 

Ah Minhyuk... i’m not saying that he should love her for her powers, or because she’s someone who has them. he just saw her as Bong Soon, which i mean.. i guess you can call sentimental? but when he says stuff like “yeah ya strong but your just Bong Soon.” like that’s not... romantic?

he doesn’t trust her when she’s like a million trillion times stronger and powerful than him. i don’t see why she had to go to this guy to “control” her powers. i don’t like how he doesn’t think highly of her powers- he’s just shocked and “shook” but not ever in an admiring way. maybe on the surface, it seems like it but... if you look really closely at the way he says things... it’s not like that. 

he sucked at helping her when she lots her powers, didn’t comfort in the way you would have hoped.

he underestimates her when she’s A THOUSAND TIMES STRONGER THAN ANYONE ON THIS EARTH- I mean almost everyone has seen a super here movie right? mary jane admire spider man, but also loves peter, but trusts him, he’s always doing the saving but she doesn’t think she’s better than him. lous lane and superman? pepper potts (a cool ass woman btw who’s honestly a bit like min hyuk when it comes to some of her skills) and iron man? thor and jane? yet... swdbs... minhyuk is still the super hero. and there’s no one relying on Bong Soon to save the day because ... she’s just a woman... we need to protect her... we can’t let her endanger herself to save some people when... she’s the only one who possibly could. 

this thing in their relationship where he loved Bong Soon with or without her strengths could’ve worked if they had done it well. like if he actually saw how much of a loss she felt when she lost her powers(which she lost for... what reason again?)- instead... it was so underwhelming. he didn’t see her powers as special and heroic... he didn’t see something so amazing like that to be a great loss to her. 

i mean, he’s always down playing her powers- loads of people do, but it’s worse when he does. he’s asked her if she was actually a man and then an alien, like you believe a man could spin a car with their bare hands, but not a woman? so obviously she’s an alien if not a man? how am i supposed to enjoy a female superhero when all anyone does is try erase the fact that she’s a woman?

there’s no empowerment that makes you feel anything for them. that’s usually something you sense but it’s just not there. it’s normal to be worried for your partner but there’s literally no sense of trust and admiration. it’s been a while since i watched swdbs, but i’m pretty sure when Bong Soon saves those women Minhyuk isn’t even happy about it... did she not apologise? that’s nonsense. 

it’s not just that aspect of their relationship that bothers me- it’s how whiny and annoying Minhyuk can be. people romanticised his “won’t you love me?” line but it’s not a good line. it’s not a romantic line that’s makes me swoon or makes me feel like Bong Soon should like him. he comes off as clingy and pining and like she’s got to be with her because he likes her so much. 

he made his bodyguard make him meals... i don’t care how sentimental and sad he is over his mother. he literally moaned on at her. 

he kept a tracking device on her? 

he gave her a desk in his office. it was a cute desk alright, but he did it to keep her close and he didn’t even take her video game designing game serious; everything about their relationship is so flat. 

if he was such a skilled fighter, did he really need to have Bong Soon as his bodyguard? (she was also a terrible bodyguard but you know). 

i know i’m nit picking, but i could over look some of these things if there weren’t so many things that made no sense to me. if only half of these things weren’t based on weakening Bong Soon and her relationship with her super strength. 

i blame a lot of this on crappy writing because this could’ve been about Bong Soon and her journey to being a hero but it was just nonsensical. 

it was all done so crudely that... i just don’t find anything solid about it. 

i felt no chemistry- i liked them best when they were bickering or just being friendly. 

like Bong Soon saw her powers as some kind of hardship? something she couldn’t show Guk Du, who she was in love with for so long, but sure Minhyuk sees them and accepts them, but he’s not there to help her realise all the things she can do, or admire and respect her. NOTHING MAKES SENSE. 

i don’t even know if i’m right in thinking that Minhyuk could’ve been someone to help her harness her powers and be supportive and help her on her way of becoming a superhero- because does a man who loves you have to be the one to make you see your worth as a hero? but he didn’t even not do that, instead, he just felt like an obstacle telling her that she may have powers but she’s still just Bong Soon. 

It just seems like a confusing jumble to me. 

were the writers trying to normalise her powers in their relationship? because i could watch any other crappy show with a strong woman who’s human talents are put under her to save the man’s fragile masculinity. but she’s got super hero powers... super heroes are admired and thought of as freaking cool and shit- it’s supposed to be awesome and all that jazz. it’s not much fun otherwise

all these things just annoy me. because if they wanted to make Bong Soon’s journey with her powers be her own, then why was Minhyuk such a useless involvement in them? why did he have to come save her from getting stabbed... why... if they’re gonna add romance in with the story line with her powers... why are the writers so scared of making her powerful... why does she need this mediocre mans help? 

i don’t care if he’s a ceo... or a tech genius... he used the lgbt identity as some kind of publicity thing, he’s not nearly as zany and cool as he could've been as he just ended up as another person telling Bong Soon she’s not a superhero. 

this ain’t the avengers- it should’ve been Bong Soon’s story as a badass super hero, why do i have to see Guk Do and Minhyuk devise some genius dumb ass plan at the end? why not let Bong Soon defeat the asshole on her own? 

why are people scared of a woman being mighty? and a man being there for it without having to to larger than her? while caring for her safety at the same time? it’s just so poorly done. all these things shadow over any cuteness and softness these two had. 

Bong Soon, I see why she would fall for him, but in the end, I really didn’t care about them. 

it’s almost like her powers are a plot device for their romance. it wasn’t an epic story about a girl with out of this world strength. 

i guess their is a development that can be viewed as nice at that point where Minhyuk has to process the discovery of our leading lady being the same mysterious girl that saved his life. he has to love Bong Soon but also separate his idolisation for this hooded girl from his image of Bong Soon and then combine it all at once so what he feels is real love for Bong Soon as he had known her before. so it’s not some twisted sort of mess that’s him loving but then also being with someone he imagined as an angel sent from above by his mother. 

it can be seen as romantic that he would take a knife wound for Bong Soon and call people to take her wild drunk videos offline, but it comes at the expense of Bong Soon and her image as a strong women. like she can be weak at points in the story, it’s called character development, but to be constantly pulled under him isn’t what i would call pro female superhero story telling. it’s not feminist and it’s not a romantic dynamic i want to root for.

his heroic acts kept climbing higher than Bong Soon’s, and when we got to hers he was still there, apparently doing half the work.

the characters: 

Minhyuk: some final ranting about him. i’ve noticed that Hyung Sik has a pattern when it comes to acting out his male characters; no matter how soft and cute they are, they always have this brimming masculine toxicity to them. in swdbs it’s really unbalanced (even worse in hwarang). i honestly tried feeling sympathy for him, with his messed up family and his dead mum and all that but he was honesty no fun to watch. he wasn’t offbeat and interesting. he was saturated down to some rich ceo manly man who said that he was a “healthy man” instead of gay. 

like he could’ve been so much interesting if he actually were bisexual or a supporter of lgbt rights, if he weren’t making Bong Soon do this and that, asking if she were a man and pining here and there- honestly these characters are such a waste of potential. 

Bong Soon: i’ve not talked enough about her. i like how she can be brash and i like how she can be caring with her friends, and i know she’s not a genius of any kind but she can be a bit thick. the writing sacrificed Bong Soon’s intelligence for plot points- like she wouldn’t be that careless to send her friend out on her own when their’s a kidnapper out there would she? and then be so mad that she had to catch the guy? 

she has like three interests. Guk Do, video games and cooking. i just wish she were more developed, i wish this story was about her and not a thousand other things. 

i really loved how feminine she was at the same time as being strong. you can be powerful and kick ass, unashamedly girly and womanly and sensitive all at once, without erasing any of the other things to make way for the other. but lazy sloppy writing didn’t let these aspects of her character shine.

i liked how Bong Soon, for the most part, was very unlike her mother. her mother was abusive and mean and even though the show tried to redeem her, she still should've been called out for her behaviour because if you’re gonna write how woman can be just as horrible as men who are domestic abusers then you better hold them to the same standard and let your viewers know that it’s wrong. 

Bong Soon was flawed, and i’m not going to lie about that- but her flaws were used for comedy. and i don’t know if i like that or not. 

i wasn’t a fan of how she favoured people over the other- like the case with sleeping Guk Doo and Minhyuk but now that i think about it... i don’t care if she treated Minhyuk meanly or cursed him behind his back.

the way she viewed her powers and the way she handled them... was a convoluted tangle. she wanted to keep her powers secret and couldn’t hurt people but ended up making a mess almost everywhere, she said she never used her powers to help people and we were supposed to see this decision she made to step up and use her powers for good as a turning point but we know she’d been doing kind things with her powers for a while by helping old grannies up streets and saving people from the fate of a broken bus. her relationship with her family gift is not clear. there is no clear arc in this story

she’s not a fantastic female lead, which should’ve been the case since, well, THE SHOW IS NAMED AFTER HER AND HER STRENGTH. so that’s disappointing.

but again, in the hands of capable writers, she could’ve been an audience favourite. 

Guk Doo: at first, we all pretty much hated him. whenever he came on screen i felt like i was suffering for some sin i committed in the past week. 

but in the end, as we got to see how he felt about Bong Soon and when he found out about her powers- i really liked him. i liked him when he told his (not great) girlfriend about how he felt about someone else. in fact, i liked Guk Doo because he was never short of caring. even though he was busy and forgetful, he always tried to make up for it. he still cared about her. okay so maybe the whole bit where he realised he loved Bong Soon was a mess but again there’s the case of rubbish writing. 

he didn’t think Bong Soon was fragile and needed protecting because she’s a small women. he didn’t say his type of woman has to be small and flowery and fragile out of vanity or misogyny... he says it because that’s what he thought Bong Soon was, as she led him to believe. I phrased that badly but in short i’m saying he loved Bong Soon as he thought she was, and loved her still and as much with her powers in a way that felt sweet and sad (because as that moment rolled around when he found out about her powers, her heart was already somewhere else). 

dramabeans said it better and i’ll paraphrase: this image of his ideal women that he painted out loud was based around Bong Soon and when he find out about her powers and how she’s not as weak as she led him to believe, that feeling of love didn’t change.

he was also mature and almost gentle while he handled the discovery of her secret, fairly well might i add, as he realised all the things he missed as they were growing up. 

the villain: awful, who’s crimes on screen could potentially hurt people who’ve been abused in the past as they watch. the fact that the point in this was to have a women hater be defeated by a powerful woman was not driven home well. it could’ve been so good but instead we got a noodley thin version of this premise.

side characters: they were tiring. we didn’t need half of them. some stayed too long and the joke soon turned stale. some where offensive. Guk Doo’s girlfriend all i can say is... at least she talked to him and was honest in the end (after doing things behind his back). 

in conclusion:

i’m tired of people saying that the main pair are a power couple and that they’re the otp of all otp’s. 

the show is so overrated. it deserves the harsh comments that come it’s way. it was rampant with offensive bits for laughs and maybe we could let this show slide if it weren’t for these rubbish jokes, and how serious it took it’s main themes of women and power only to botch it completely.

other people's posts have been much more concise and articulate as they describe what i’ve talked about. these are just the thought’s i had to get out of my sore head.

here is a post that is very clear about what’s wrong with this show, in a much quicker way. and i whole heatedly agree with it. 

anyways. yeah this was rubbish and if you have high hopes for this like most of us did, then you’ll be sorely disappointed.

[kendrixtermina]

Cold Hearted Girl Blues

The “Cold Hearted Girl Blues” Anthology, & associated story ideas.

Just to be safe, TRIGGER WARNING for Disturbing Content and unhealthy attitudes that are in no way representative of reality. 

Depiction =/= endorsement. 

(Final order may vary)

Part A: Avoidant Attachment Style

Indifferent Girl Playlist - “The expression ‘I don’t feel so well’ makes no gramatical sense. It should be ‘I don’t feel so good’, unless you mean to imply that your ability to feel is hampered.”

Cold Hearted Girl Blues - “One Day she won’t love you either.”

Barren Heart - “The hypocricy of writing about things you know nothing about.”

There Was Nothing In Gauf’s Room - “It’s not her fault, either. What you get is what you see. ”

Failure to Manifest - “Sometimes, this situation has her feeling like she doesn’t exist.”

Cold Hearted Girl Gothic - “Just this single, isolated Conciousness.”

LEERE IST EIN PRIVILEG - “#Introvert Pride.”

Dweeb Life - “Ah, the obscure Joys of bein a shut-in”

Heroin Chick - “Involving no actual heroin.”

You're in a laundry room - “There has been a bit of a failure to connect with this world.”

Biology / inertia - “Even her happiest relationship didn’t go over without being compared to a robot at least once. Balancing extreme introversion with a live-in boyfriend.”

Diffusion - “She has no idea what she looks like. It always surprisesher what people say about her.”

Cold Blooded - “It’s a style of communication, apparently.”

Crazy Headphones Girl - “What could he possibly see in her?”

Cold Hearted Girl Erotica - “Her Kink is compartementalization, but she also dabbles in questionanble sex on drugs threesomes with a hooker.”

Cold Hearted Girl Tumblr - “Preempting the Discourse(TM). I was done with the 2010s when they were a new thing.”

Cold Hearted Girl Musings - “She tries to avoid the common pitfalls, at least in theory.”

Cold Hearted Girl Adventures - “She realizes that she’s the sort of person who breaks people’s heart; She’s like this asshole boyfriend from all these lovesongs.”

Cold Hearted Girl's Lament - “She’s usually the one who has to take it upon herself to be be the rational one and tell you ‘No’.”

Cold Hearted Girl Challenges - “Even the Best of her relationships involved her being compared to a robot at least once.”

Life is Gross - “Including the bits of it that are commonly accepted to be loveable and cute.”

Indifference II: Emotionally unavailable morally ambiguous chick - “There are character flaws, ppl. Being an asshole is generally a bad thing.”

Cyborgery I (the becomming) - “Even when she’s right with you,she’s so far away”

The Minimalist's Wet Dream - “She leads her life with a bare minimum of human contact.”

Alphabet Girl - “It would be one thing if you were competing with the universe, but it’s really her ingrown, self-absorbed world you’re playing second fiddle to.”

Peel - “You thought you could find a normal person underneath, didn’t you?”

Part B: Maladaptive Daydreaming

Endzeitromantik - “No one wants to admit these days that they ever liked NuMetal but she sees no reason to do the same.”

Unapologetic - “She’s not romanticising what she thinks you think she’s romanticising. Or so she thinks.”

Luciferosis - “She’s in love with the Devil and is planning to leave in order to be with him. Of course, she will be missed, but of course, she doesn’t care about it. She’s the sort of asshole who’d fall in love with the Devil.”

Opheliac - “There are multiple ways to be in love with the void. The most relevant ones are not featured in this piece.”

Lone Diggin' - “Going to restaurants on her own.”

The Girl In The Tower - “To preserve something valuable in safe, protected garden... that is not what you did.”

Bizarro Self - “She’s put some thought into this, actually.”

Dreamer Things - “That’s what she calls them, anyway. ‘Dreamer’ may be an euphemism here.”

Make Me Wanna Die - “She just wants to be special, probably because she has no idea what real suffering is. Words mean things, you know?” 

Favorite Love Songs - “Though her real life is barren and deprived, she has a rich inner life. Well, then again, how ‘rich’ can an ‘inner life’ be that only ruminates tiny indirect tidbits of information?”

There Is A Little Harley Quinn In All Of Us - “Unpacking the Whole Badboy Complex. It’s not what you think it is.”

Strange Little Girl - “You really should be going.”

Abstract Dreams - “She doesn’t think they mean anything but she’s willing to indulge the thoughts.”

Joy, Joy, Joy, the Melancholia Rolercoaster. - “She likes to think she has feelings.”

Immortelle - “Involving no Actual Immortals.”

I Feel Personally Victimized By Those 19th Century Romanticists - “Even I am not sure what she’s trying to rove here.”

My Fantasy - “Her kink is apparently freezing to death.”

Cyborgery II - “She envies people whose calloused hands show their dedication to their passion.”

Reality Death - “Silly Rabbit, of course the world keeps turning when you’re not there to observe it anymore.”

Dandelion - “The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all. But sometimes it’s better to be the Dandelion, which can take root anywhere and everywhere.”

Plunge - “If there’s some A grade deaster going on, she obviously won’t miss out on watching.”

Fairytale Ending - “My favorites were Sleeping Beauty and ‘The Salt Princess’. Go on and psychoanalyze me.”

Recontextualizing - “She has different words for it now.”

Peeping Tommie - “It’s at it’s purest where it belongs the least. Or perhaps she just grew the fuck up.”

Paper Flowers - “She’d like to think they mean something.”

Part C: Exercises in Counterdependency

The Butthurt Electra Playlist - “She’s got enough self-awareness to call it that, but not enough to realize it was a bad idea.”

She Will Have her Revenge - “She’ll come back as Fire/ To Burn All the Liars/ Leave a Blanket of Ash on the Ground.”

Hate Poems - “Or: Giving yourself Headaches over people who aren’t worth it”

Pavlov redux - “If you can’t understand like a human, you have to be beaten like a dog” - “Actually, Daddy Dearest, you’re not supposed to beat dogs, either.”

Im Real Good At Hating - “Honestly! I’ve got to have some talent somewhere. ” 

Fuck You Specifically- “Her Lips: Fuck You. Her Hair: Fuck You. Her Clothes: Fuck You. Her crippling self-motivation issues: Fuck You.”

My whole existence for your amusement - “And that is why I’m here with you.”

Sick & Tired - “Yes I know what you think of me, you never shut up.”

Been A Son - “Why does she spend so much time searching for some kind of reason for what you did? Even if there was, it wouldn’t justify your actions.”

Make a list - “It’s supposed to be a therapeutic excercise.”

choice - “It’s the Morton’s Fork of emotions.”

gross girl - “FAART. FAART. She picks her note and eats it. ”

BratFactory - “She outright heard her mother say that she has no value to that man except as a mother to make children.”

AntiStar - “Back in the day, I became obsessed with the thought of a lightless Luminary, an existence that is the very opposite of light.”

Adaptation - “It’s amazing how much a human can twist themselves into a pretzel. It was a matter of survival at the time, you see.”

Emotional Abuse Checklist - “BINGO!”

Remember That We Suffered - “You have no idea what pain is.”

Cyborgery III: We can Rebuild Her  - “Perhaps these vagrant years were simply the means to piece herself back together.”

Idetifikation mit dem Aggressor - “Apparently she looks just like him.”

Es Kocht Die Eifersucht - “A parent is supposed to protect a child from the bad experiences of their youth, not inflict some creepy reenactment of them upon you.”

Curmudgeon (Long Way Home) - “She’s that thing you go to when you want to have a cheap laugh.” 

Visibility - “Your Father Loves you! why can’t you see that?”

Touchy - “You bet she is.”

Light - “She thinks she used to be Light once, but she can’t be sure.”

If I Die, I can be replaced - “I will leave you all behind, move to spain and adopt some children who actually deserve my time and money. Perhaps they will finally appreciate me, unlike you ungrateful wretches.”

My One Mistake Was That I Couldn't Let You Down - “Turns out she wasn’t quite Cold Hearted enough.”

PART D: USELESS, USELESS, USELESS CHILD

Fuckyeahmedicalgrossness - “In my humble opinion, the human brain is way too squishy.”

Something in The Way - “You can always find something.”

Unbirth - “Barely Functioning Lump of Human Flesh. Except no, that’s unfair to the people with real problems. I suppose ‘asshole’ will do.”

Donald Duck Volcano - “I’m not gonna sugarcoat her this time.”

My Wretched Soul Desires Violence - “It’s not pretty, but it’s true. It shouldn’t be but it is.”

Verbal Disclaimer - “I’m not claiming I’m perfect either.”

Useless Child - “How was she supposed to learn if you never let her do anything?”

Madwoman in the Attic - “And they always knew she would be the family spinster.”

Unfair Existence - “At the risk of sounding like a millionaire campaigning for a tax on poverty.”

The Mutant - “Way to make that 9 year old feel like a freak of nature... in the end it’s probably a kind of arrogance.”

Green Grunge - “It’s her jam, except not really. She sure can’t claim to be an expert.”

In Defense Of That Legendary Divorce - “The whole concept of ‘stay for the children’ is utter bullsh*t”

My Fantasy II - “I’m gonna kill all yo fuckers. That’s what quiet people who keep to themselves are supposed to do, right?”

Cyborgery IV – Plastic Death - “My Fetish: All the weak parts of the real me, cut away and dumped in a bucket of medical waste.”

Schreckschraube - “It occurs to her that she’s terribly gross to them.”

Nemo, or as my father lovingly calls me, "Chiquilla de Mierda" - “It’s Spanish for ‘Shit Brat’.”

Hasmereir - “Some of the cruelty is lost in translation, but it basically means ‘Make-Me-Laugh-Thing.’”

You Stink - “Bullies aren’t known for being very creative people.”

Sweet Sweet Reality - “She’s not completely out of touch with it.”

Is there More To Lose Than Gain - “Apparently yes, but she’s not sure how to get it anyways.”

Alraune - “Always with the legends and the soulless children. I think she has a type.”

Confession - “I plead guilty. Mostly to existing.”

Way Too Old For This And F****ing Bored Of It - “Even she is sick of all her emo bullsh*t.”

EPILOGUE: WHATS THE USE OF FEELING BLUE? - The next step, apparently, is crying.

[kingsofchaos]

There's an undeniable crime problem in Los Santos, an affluent city rife with thieves and bandits of all pedigrees, which isn’t in itself all that strange. What's odd is the incredibly high number of unsolved crimes, of acts no one claims, ones that the LSPD can't even begin to lay blame for. Even when committed in broad daylight, even when the police arrive on the scene in the middle of a heist, no one manages to catch more than unclear glimpses of the culprits, no bullets hit their marks, and when all is said and done there is somehow never any reliable evidence. No camera ever manages to catch a thing, no trap is ever successful, and never has a single witness managed a coherent report, like somehow none of them ever pay enough attention. Like somehow what they've seen can never be put into words. Throw a stone and you’ll hit a crook in Los Santos, from thugs to conmen to masked killers they all call the city home, all know their place, yet somehow the balance of powers never really makes sense. Like something is missing, like everyone’s fighting to be second best while the title of top dog goes empty. Not that the reluctance to take charge is all that surprising, considering the way any crew which starts to grow big enough to extend their hold over the city is cut down. Driven out or found murdered, often laying in the remains of what was clearly a vicious shoot-out, though the killers are never found. Like vigilantes, only not nearly so altruistic; the spoils belonging to the defeated gangs are always taken, and only reappear at the scene of yet another unclaimed crime.

There’s a crew in Los Santos, so ingrained in the essence of the city itself no one seems to remember how things were before they arrived. The Fake AH Crew; legends in some circles, monsters in others, both consummate enigmas and borderline celebrities, the crew with the world at their feet. The main six players of the inner circle aren’t odd, exactly, each criminals of great renown but still holding pretty standard goals, greedy and bloodthirsty and perhaps more loyal than most but still acting well within their given standard of normalcy. They aren’t unusual, really, but these days they do have their little quirks. As the leader Geoff has always had to present himself as reasonably level-headed, controlled outside the occasional snaps of frightful anger, a little overbearing in his need to dictate every plan maybe, but what criminal kingpin isn’t? What’s odd is the new fear kept behind closed doors, Geoff second-guessing his own ideas to a degree that is wholly out of character, running over plans again and again, pulling them apart and looking for flaws, debriefing even after successful missions when everyone else just wants to celebrate, unconsciously pressing his hand to his heart like reassurance that it’s still beating. Jack drives like she’s made a deal with the devil, like every vehicle is just an extension of her being, inherent ability paired with unmatchable knowledge of every backroad and alley in the city. What’s odd is the nightmarish daydreams she gets sometimes, when she looks back at her latest baby and sees flickers of crunched metal and shattered glass, the phantom scent of spilled gasoline and the unmissable click-whoosh of catching flame. For all his quick temper and flippant attitude Michael can be utterly pedantic about checking and rechecking the timers on bombs, which honestly isn’t an awful trait in the resident explosives guy. What’s odd is the way Michael gets angry about it sometimes, storms about the penthouse yanking out every last alarm clock, the way he swears he can still hear something ticking with furious intention, like the last seconds of a countdown. He may be happier in a no-holds-barred fist-fight but nobody could say Jeremy isn’t good with a gun, an excellent shot with just about any weapon he can get his hands on. What’s odd is the little burst of panic he gets right after firefights, patting down his own chest, checking again and again like he can’t quite believe he wasn’t hit. Ryan isn’t wracked by guilt, doesn’t regret what he does the way some might; he’s a killer and he owns it, he chose it, and it truly doesn’t bother him. What’s odd is the way he still can’t sleep, can’t close his eyes some nights when the darkness squeezes close and he feels so cold, like the depths of the ocean are pressing down on him, stealing the air from his lungs. In terms of his own safety Gavin is as reckless as they come, all slapdash impulses and delighted disregard, chasing amusement at any cost when it’s only his own neck on the line. What’s odd is that sometimes Gavin walks around with a parachute strapped to his back and no intention of flying that day, utterly overzealous precaution without any real explanation as to why, like some part of him is always terrified that he’s going to fall. Maybe the Fake’s know, on their worst days, that something isn’t quite right, something about them has gone awry, but the concern never lingers in the face of their unmatched success. Because a crew’s a crew, right? Maybe they’re a little luckier than most, maybe they’ve been unstoppable for so long it feels like no one else is really trying, like they are the merciless gods of their city. Maybe they catch themselves drifting sometimes, losing time or memories or thoughts or scars. Maybe they all know something is not quite right, a distant siren in the back of their minds begging them to pay attention, but surely it doesn’t mean anything. You can romanticise it all you want, call them the scariest, the most dangerous, devastatingly talented in all the worst ways, but at the end of the day all humans are flawed and all crews will fall. Whether or not falling is enough to shake them from their throne is, however, a completely different issue. If a crew dies in the woods (the city, the sky, the sea), and nobody is brave enough to tell them, did it even happen? 

There’s an empty penthouse in Los Santos, one that cannot be sold, one no one likes to talk about, not really. What has been said is that the door sticks sometimes, cannot be opened no matter how much force is applied. What has been said is that things move around all on their own, new stains reveal themselves and furniture appears and disappears like someone’s been squatting, but the dust is too thick for anyone to have visited. What’s been said makes shivers run down spines, hair stand on edge, gives rise to furtive glances and shared discomfort, an unspoken agreement never to return. Maybe this alone wouldn’t be such a problem, maybe owning the most prestigious penthouse in a city overrun by wealth would be enough to attract some sceptic, but there is of course the matter of the previous owners. The most despicable, untouchable, indelible criminal gang the city had ever seen. Has ever seen, even this long after their passing. They died, at some point. No one quite remembers when, or how, no one really seems to talk about them anymore, not beyond wild stories of their antics, amazing heists and unspeakable terrors fading off into silence, like they did in the end. How bizarre it is that the crime levels didn’t actually drop even after they were gone.

There's something deeply wrong in Los Santos, something strange and unsettling, like a catastrophic event has knocked the whole city just slightly out of sync with the rest of the world. It’s in the way the LSPD have cabinet upon cabinet of unsolved crimes that never manage to make their way into reports, years of unacceptably unpunished offences that would bring the might of a federal investigation if only they were disclosed. In the way a startling amount of those offences resemble crimes from days long past, copycat plans following acts of a crew long buried, new targets hit with the same old flare, methods and motives impressively in-character down to the smallest details. There are secrets in Los Santos. Things no one knows, things everyone knows, an awful, impossible, inescapable reality they’ve all been trapped within. It’s in the way unease builds and dissipates without cresting, citizens never quite recognising their own discomfort, never fully acknowledging the oddity of acting without reason, of crossing the street or averting their eyes, of taking the long way home simply because that one corner just didn't feel right. In the way the city is beset by sudden inexplicable explosions, the way gunfire rattles without a source, the way empty streets echo with chilling laughter like the ghost of a memory, the phantom chill of a nightmare, the ceaseless loop of those who will not be laid to rest.