#although to be fair i repressed most of the things in my life so maybe the kid will turn out normal who knows

[akascow]

i keep seeing tiktok comments like 'theyre gonna remember that for the rest of their lives' 'you just made a core memory for them' on videos of people being nice to kids which like,, i remember about like 10 things max from when i was a kid i do not think they will think about some random nice interaction with a stranger they had 15 years in the future but go off i guess

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Hey! Can you confirm or can do a little reading that about txt taehyun has a diff personlity, persona that he won't show on camera to moas and public (not meant to leak his privacy) but I wanna know about this boy, I always get this intuitive thing that He's maybe too much different from on camera and yeah he knows to handle his emotions (man is a secret genius,probably living an double life And we would never know 💀) so Can you just give a hint or mini Reading pls I know you're busy too but whenever you get the time...

I wasn’t sure I was comfortable doing this, but asked my guides to show me what I am allowed to see, so here is what I got.

Cards I got The Chariot, Strength, 8 of Cups, The Emperor rv, The Hierophant, Pioneer, Trickster, Detective.

So yeah, you could be onto something. He likes to control the narrative of how he is seen. Which  is most idols to be fair, also people in general. There could be a controlling, aggressive, dominant energy he likes to keep hidden, or he represses it. He likes to hide a bit of himself. I mean Scorpio moon should tell you that lol He may manipulate the narrative or others. He may find ways to put others against one another. He is quite an unpredictable person, so you may not know what you get from him. That is all I will say here. I will most likely have more when I get to his reading. But that may be awhile, because I am not pulled to do him, more so others. Although, this did spark my interest. But at the end of the day, just a girl with cards. I can’t say this is accurate. I don’t like to just paint these idols in a bad light, but to also remember that they could have strong shadow sides, I felt the need to put that.

[mental-health-advice]

Tag: 🌌🌟☔️

Heyhoo! First of all, thank you for all that you do!

My question is (tw: ) childhood trauma related. I'd love to see an external perspective on it.

(Update: this turned into a trauma vent, please, if any of you doesn't feel comfortable to read it, do not. I'd rather have it unanswered.)

Two of my great friends were both shook to hear when I explained to them (briefly, without details) how a few things were, how my Dad could sometimes be aggressive and why. But recently my doubts arose, and I feel like I have fooled myself.

TW: childhood abuse, neglect, suicide attempt mention, illness mention, cancer, death

My Dad was terribly critical and self-critical - you could say, self-hating - he treated both us and himself badly. His family was nothing ideal either; his father didn't care much for him (or at least he couldn't express it) (he was likely aggressive with them at times), the parents simply left the kids to live with their irascible grandma most of the time, so they will mean no trouble around their house. Throughout his life, he was constantly criticized for and forced to repress every emotion he had for the sake of practicality and "rationality." (Even though he used to be a deep-feeling, imaginative, idealistic child and I know deep at heart he still was.) As he grew up and got married, so he didn't have to face his pain and admit his parents wrongdoings, he adopted his father's ideology and declared that all that was done to him was fair and righteous and should be done similarly. He grew to hate his own emotions and was triggered by the emotions of others. The only thing he allowed himself to feel was "justified" (and desperate) anger, towards anything, but his parents. (Although he was rarely angry at strangers.) He decided that the only way he can be worthy is if he accomplishes something great, but his own perfectionism never let him. A few months ago he died in the same type of cancer his father had - he wasn't much older than 50.

I loved him dearly and I am still crying inside for the life he had never had. I was probably the closest with him, the translator and advocate between my Mom and Dad, although my Mom most of the time took it as "allying with the enemy." My Dad could be cruel to my Mom.

My Mom also came from an abusive household, her parents got divorced, her father had a drinking problem, her brother always mocked her, she was most of the time forbiden to leave the house, later her mom tried to make her stay by refusing to buy her any usable clothes. One time her mother attempted suicide and she saved her life. The sweet little girl who loved and kept hugging everyone became depressed by the age of 3.

My Dad's family only treated her worse than their son. She became often and chronically ill.

[Tragedy - I'm serious.]

And there come I, the oldest daughter. Slowly I understood that it was traumatic. That it was the reason for memory loss, nightmares, and self-destructive behavior. But recently I started to doubt, that it really was "bad". Maybe I was overreacting! And also, apparently, I was a heartless kid?? Because according to Mom I didn't have much empathy and didn't seek hugs. [I have an explanation for the hugs...]

Every since I was small, my Mom vented to me. She was often very frustrated and depressed, and often sick. My Dad was working (at the time and at home) and needed space so he sent us down to the playground. First, when I was a baby, with my Mom. Later with my little brother. It was a soulless, small, gray playground. Then two other every time we moved.

I was a reckless child, but I still can't remember nor imagine (neither did I understand it back then) why I got so many creative punishments. Even if they didn't actually fulfill their threats, I was threatened that I would stand in the corner for days, from morning (they'll wake me up!) to bed time, and if I opposed, I might not get dinner/food either. (I did stand in the corner, but not for that long - mercy) For a while I was banned from the few rooms we had in our flat and sat on the floor in the hallway. I was even forbidden from playing with the shoes. (What did I commit?? Who did I set on fire?? For reference: I was 4-6) I was forbidden from playing. One time I wanted to run away from home in a quarrel, (I was ~8) packed stuff in a small box and told Mom that I'm leaving, to which she replied that "okay, you can leave, but you'll have to leave here everything that we gave you." I angrily left the box (it was a tiny box) on the floor and took my shoes. "No-no, even your clothes." "None?!" "None." That was it.

Every single one of our flats was chaotic, complete disorder, either everything, everywhere or nothing nowhere. I remember once (age 5) Dad asked me to clean the room and so I put away all the toys in boxes in the closet (that's what it's called?) - he then came and poured out each of them onto the floor in a big pile again and said that we are going to sort them out all by type. He did this several times throughout my childhood, he always ordered us to tidy up then came and found mistakes in everything we do. He very literally criticized/corrected everything we did if he was in the room. When I made a surprise breakfast for the family, he changed everything on the table and me and my brother cried about it (Mom didn't even see it yet!) he gave us a cold shower. When he was angry, we hid from him under the bed and desk, or the bathroom. He didn't like that my little brother reminded him of himself, and I always tried to protect him. I was his "favorite" (my brother my Mom's) so when he got punished, I suffered from "survivors' guilt." When they argued my ears were red from pressing my hands so tight to cover them. He of course spanked us or slapped us quite a lot. (As I remember) (Mom did much more rarely.) Mom doesn't remember most of it. We (he) had debt, even Mom didn't know, and so there was no hot water, or heating in the flat from one point. We were forbidden to open the windows because then the cold'd come in. The air wasn't too fresh, and it was dark. We only ate bread and a cheap sort of sliced meet for a good while. It was a danger that "the government/the bank" would come at any time and take our furnitures. When they came, we hid our toys, when they left, I remember Dad complimenting how nicely we tidied up, "it should always look like this!"

When I was 6, I told myself a bedtime story in which I got into a hospital with a not-so-painful illness and lived there and been taken care of. I kept drawing comics in which a 4 years old little girl got lost in a forest (her Mom sort of left her) and lived there alone. It was my dream to get lost in a forest. In one "episode" the little girl (8 at the time) helped a mama bear out of a trap, healed, dressed, fed her and led her back to her cubs. But at home the papa bear was spanking all the 10 of them, because he was sleeping, the cave was too small, and when they tried to get out, one of them stepped on his tail/ear. I also kept drawing (one after the other, dozens) a comic about "the good kid" and "the bad kid," the bad kid was reckless, messy, (I'd rather not go into detail...but he wasn't well groomed... and it didn't even occur to me that it'd be the parents responsibility) he always misbehaved, cursed, and drew on the desk, whereas "the good kid" was... good. He/she was clean, neat and tidy, had his/her own little room, and clothes he/she liked, (in some versions they were both boys, in some both girls, in some, varied) the parents loved her, took care of her, she got food that she liked, etc. In one version, the two were brothers, and the "Bad kid" (aged 8!) was taken to a young offender institution. He didn't hurt anyone.

In first grade a years older classmate of mine (his father was a criminal, he failed several times) got authority by an older teacher to do whatever he pleases as her "little helper" every afternoon - he smashed those who behaved and stayed silent to the wall and gave candy to his friends. Also, in first/second grade I repeatedly witnessed COCSA.

Thank you for listening, I had doubts that none of this even was bad and I just overreacted, but written down it seems bad enough. (Thoughts are yet welcome!)

I went trought great healing in the last two years as I turned 18 - now I have acces to all the resources and possibilities that weren't available to me as a child. I'm free. I have friends and I am in college. My Mom and my Brother, and even Dad's Sister's family - we are all Healing! It's like the spring! It was just so hard to believe! *weeps* I am free.

Thank you for listening!

If the asks seems too long please feel free to answer in a new post! (Maybe it would be better because of all the details... I'll find it by the tag "🌌🌟☔️" anyways :)

Hey there,

Unfortunately we are unable to answer an Ask that is over 700 words. The reason for this is that we find it incredibly hard to read through the whole Ask if it is any longer as we find it really overwhelming.

If you could please shorten your Ask that would be great, or else unfortunately it will not be answered.

I hope that you can understand this and I hope that you are going well!

I'm thinking of you!

Take care,

Lauren

[smiletimeisrunningout]

"Are you saying that you'd follow me as a leader, Benjamin Tallmadge?" Emma whispered teasingly, "You'd make an excellent knight, mind you. Not just because loyal or strong but you'd look good in leather." The last bit was a more literal teasing, but very heartfelt considering her relationship with men in leather.

Doom and gloom seems to terrify you, so you wear your warmth and goodness like a shield,

Well, damn. Guilty as charged there on both accounts. For an insane moment she thought she may tell him why she was so afraid of becoming too sad, but she knew that as long as she had a crown she couldn't - unless she was to marry him, that was, and this obviously wasn't the case. But as he kept speaking he opened up even more, which left Emma strangely wishing she could do the same. It felt fair. It also felt sweet, and she needed sweet more than she had realized.

"Well, I don't... really have a choice on where to live... although I must say that my house isn't too terrible," she grinned at that, "But not just because it's a castle, more because... I see the sea from my window, and the forest from the other side, and the city from yet another side... we are surrounded by everything, all sorts of possibilities, whether you want to take a stroll in the woods and have lunch in a meadow, or walk down the beach, or go find your friends in town... I must admit that, given the choice, I wouldn't care much for the size of my home, even if my favorite place is still our summer palace, which is also in a similar position. But if I weren't to be queen, I'd pick a cottage. A cottage surrounded by flowers and not to far from a beach... oh! And with the closest thing to a farm to it, my father was-is passionate about farm life," she had quickly corrected herself, nearly saying he was a farm-boy, and that was going to be hard to explain, "Very, very, to the point that we have more goats and sheeps and even pigs than it's reasonable for a courtyard, and if you haven't noticed from my time at camp, I love that too. I'd like something cozy and simple and... Well, I can't imagine myself not deciding, organizing, leading, really, I like managing things, I don't know if I'd be good at any other job... but I certainly want children." That much she knew, and it didn't hurt to think about like wanting romantic love, because it was obstainable. "I want a bunch. They don't all have to be born from me, as long as there are a few heirs to the throne so nobody gets in trouble, I'd love to finally be able to take in some of the older ones from our orphanage, I just... even if I didn't have a big family when it comes to blood, I grew up with so many family friends that felt like aunts and uncles, and some that felt like siblings, and I can't imagine now having a big happy family. Having lunch - not made by me - in the garden, talking about our day, playing and singing and dancing..."

Alright, so maybe she could have opened up a little less, but it was the one bit of her future that she was looking forward to: her potential arranged marriage hopefully wasn't going to be a complete nightmare but it was still that: an arranged marriage. The rest could be real.

"Bet you thought I was going to say that I wanted to keep jumping into danger, mh? Sword always at hand."

Nothing's 'too beautiful for you,'

That was the most unfair things he had ever said, especially since he complained about her far more harmless flirting. Blushing a little, she didn't even know how to respond to that, and could only start playing with her hair to move her hands and let some of that repressed energy go.

She met his eyes in a bit of shock and plenty approval, silently laughing as he said something that sounded so much like her. "If this is the effect that this drink has on you, I'm buying the inn, Ben. You do realize that's something I would say, right?" she asked incredulously, "I... Wow, I am speechless. That's... new."

The look on her face, though, was quite adoring, and she did nothing to camuflage it this time. "You are my favorite," she replied easily, then shook her head, "No, you know what... Forget getting our minds off things, I came because I wanted us to have some... real time together, and you are right, I deflect and hide a lot. Let's... let's not do that. Let's be true, just for tonight, mh? No running." What the hell are you saying, she thought immediately, but it was too late anyway, nd she looked around to see how far the other people were, "Let's sit outside, so we can have more privacy. People don't know we aren't married, they won't pay attention to us, we could be admiring the stars for all they know."

Emma appeared momentarily taken aback, and Benjamin wondered if she realized just how much people adored her. Despite her flighty silliness, it brought a much-needed levity to camp -- a warmth that he, himself, was starting to yearn for in light of the colder months.

"Of course I do," he offered. "I may be an arsehole, but I'm capable of recognizing a good leader. No matter what others might say, I don't just blindly follow a man -- or in your case, woman -- for the sake of glory. You must earn my respect and keep it."

All at once, their demeanors seemed to shift, and Emma grew visibly alarmed. "Is that-really? What did you... what did I...? I'm going to need more liquor for this one. When do I deflect?"

Unable to help it, Benjamin laughed into his tankard, taking a slow swallow, if only to spare her of his amusement. "You're deflecting right now," he said, setting aside his drink with a smile. "Doom and gloom seems to terrify you, so you wear your warmth and goodness like a shield, and most especially whenever things are godawful -- it's admirable." He shrugged. "I, on the other hand, seem to don my mask of bitterness on the daily, so I could certainly learn a thing or two from your outlook. We only live once..." Here, his smile turned a touch melancholy. "If we see something we want, we owe it to ourselves to go and get it. For me, I desire a nice little house in Connecticut, close enough to the water, but also within walking distance of my schoolhouse. I want to teach children and nurture them for the rest of my days...and hopefully get to have quite a few, as well." He rested his elbows onto the table. "What about yourself?"

Although it was unsurprising, Benjamin was a touch baffled when Emma denied the comparison. Shyly, he smiled and looked away again. "Nothing's 'too beautiful for you,'" he promised. "In my experience, those who put others first don't even realize their own self-worth...but others do. I recognize it."

She visibly squirmed beneath his gaze, and for a moment, he thought she might deflect again. "You are just... I think you may be the only person I've ever met capable of making me stay so long in one place. I get antsy every couple of months, but with you..."

She trailed off, and Benjamin found himself leaning back in his seat, his breath in his throat. Why should he be the deciding factor in whether or not she stayed? It wasn't as though he believed Emma loathed him, but he hadn't realized her stance was so favorable towards his presence in camp.

"You're not overstepping," he softly said. "I...I'm glad you're here." And he was. Which perhaps made the admission all the more unsettling. "People are brought into our lives for a reason, Swan. And if you're meant to take this time to slow down and just be, then that can never be a bad thing."

Clearing his throat -- God, how had he allowed himself to become so maudlin? -- it was Benjamin's turn to deflect as he said, "But enough of all that. I invited you out to get your mind off of everything, so I'll defer the questions to you yet again...because clearly, I don't know how to properly direct a conversation." He grinned in spite of himself. "In case it isn't obvious, I'm not exactly a favorite in social circles."

[stellocchia]

Today I’m departing from my normal analysis content to bring you all an Overly Long Analysis of Foolish’s lore!

Why? Because I love him dearly and that was literally the best thing that came out of the Red Banquet... 

Am I late to this? Yes, but, you know... better late then never, am I right?

As always from here on out I will be talking about the character in the rp unless stated otherwise

Sadly, Foolish does not have a vod channel, so the only link I can provide here is the twitch link: Death? - Dream SMP (LORE)

The stream starts with Foolish’s death scene at the Red Banquet. To be more exact, during Puffy’s and Ant’s discussion. 

Now, it’s important to give a bit of context to all of this: 

The Red Banquet was a trap organized by the Eggpire to kill anyone who ever opposed it (and Hbomb... which is fair). After a bunch of uno reverse scenes it looks like the Eggpire is winning and, at first, they call up Eret to be executed. Foolish opposes this by trying to summon lightning once again to destory the Egg, but this fails and Foolish is put on the chopping block instead. Puffy loudly opposes this as Foolish is her son (aopted or just son-figure? I’m not sure) and her and Ant get into a discussion about this where Ant blames her for everything that happened because she left the Eggpire, while she debates that, no, their actions are their own responsability and she was trying to do her best all the while Foolish tries to reassure Puffy that, indeed, it isn’t her fault. The debate then gets cut short by Ant executing Foolish.

Screen cuts to black and we hear the distorted voice of the Egg before Foolish comes back inside the green light of his beacon in his pyramid.

Now, I think that one of the most interesting things about this stream was the great weight given to the death, despite it being Foolish’s first one, but also the idea of Foolish, who is a God of life, formerly God of death, coming to the realization that even he is not immune to death and coming to the slow realization that he is now scared. In fact, he is terrified of dying, but that’s not all. He is also scared of the Egg and scared of going back to what he once was. Of course I’ll be talking more in depth about it, but this are the general themes of the stream: coming to terms with mortality, coming to terms with fears and confronting his past.

His first reactions to being back are confusion and then denial:

“Wha...? No... was that...? Is- did I...? Did I d...?” and right after “No. No no no no no. I’m immortal. No no no no no" 

Also, cool description of death: “It felt different, it was- I- I felt something, I was- I was somewhere, but it was- it was nowhere it was... it was dark but it wasn’t just nothing”

After his moment of disorientation is over Foolish remembers about the Baqnuet and immediately starts wondering what happened there and wether the other partecipants were still alive. His musings though get interrupted by the Egg who starts talking once again to him, this time though the Egg’s voice is not distorted, which could indicate the link between them getting stronger after part of Foolish’s life force went to feed the Egg.

“Where are you? I know that voice!” “I am in your mind” “No. No no no...” “I am in your soul” “No! no no no no. This is- this is just tricks, games. This is... something new” “It is not a dream” “Is this- is this the Egg?”

So, at first Foolish is still in denial, he recognizes the voice as he’s spoken with the Egg in the past, but he doesn’t admit that that’s who he is talking with until the Egg points out that everything that Foolish is experiencing is real. Which is interesting because, up until that moment, he was also fully in denial about his death and only start questioning that afterwards.

“Call me what you want, I have many names as you know but you’ve forgotten” “What do you mean? What do you mean? No no no no, I never heard of you before, wasn’t that long ago that I first met you. You’re something new, something that I’ve never met before”

Now, before jumping the gun and saying that Foolish is yet another member of the amnesiac gang, we have to remember that Foolish has: 1) lived a really long life and probably seen lots of things, forgetting something is normal and 2) Foolish seems to do an active effort to repress anything having to do with his past as a Totem of Death. The second one is what I want to focus on because the Egg seems to have known Foolish back when he was still covering that role, as it’ll be mentioned later. It is also possible that when Foolish and the Egg first met the Egg wasn’t in this form (after all we know that it does have another form) and Foolish simply fails to realize that the 2 are the same thing.

“I’m an ancient one, even more ancient then you”

We did have some idea of this with both “The Masquerade” and “The Village That Went Mad” from tftsmp alluding to it (the second one mostly through Ponk’s lore), but now we’ve had the confirmation that the Egg is indeed something that has existed for a long time (how powerful that makes it is debatable considering how the story has framed it thus far). 

“I’m not afraid of you! Even after all that I’m still... not afraid”

Denial seems to be Foolish’s first response to anything new he experiences. I’m sure someone smarter then me could draw some interesting parallels to Tubbo here, but that’s not me!

“Afraid... you are truly Foolish if you thought you were stronger then me... you should be afraid” “Maybe... maybe I had it wrong. Maybe I thought I was stronger... but I’m still here!”

The confident facade is starting to crumble, although he has yet to accept the fact that he has in fact died or that he may be truly afraid, some doubts are starting to creep in.

“Foolish, when we met you said you feared nothing, but now I can sense your fear Foolish” “No no” “You fear death itself” “No!” “Don’t you~?” 

The taunting continues and more of the facade keeps crumbling. It seems for once that the Egg is in fact capable of manipulation (which I started to doubt as it failed to corrupt most people it came in contact with). The Egg seems to know what are Foolish’s weak points at the very least.

“I know who you are, even though you have forgotten something of what you are”

After this premise Foolish challenges the Egg to tell him something only he would know. So first of all the Egg brings up Foolish’s secret room and ‘what he keeps in there’ and, at first, Foolish’s ponts out that the Egg could be lying, but then realizes that it is, in fact, in his head and starts to find a way to get rid of it. Later the Egg picks this up again revealing that it knows about the deal with Ranboo to try and stop Foolish from getting rid of it.

“You still think like you’re gonna get me to join your side? It’s not gonna happen!”

And here we get Foolish’s refusal and the actual motive for why the Egg is even talking to him in the first place. The Egg tries to convince him to join it by harping on that Foolish how he is now is “weak” and tries to convince him to go back to how he was before, when he was a Totem of Death. But, as I said, Foolish actively despises his past and he doesn’t bend to the promises of power because, as a matter of fact, he tried that already and it didn’t work for him. Foolish has no interest in power (he still desperately searches for control though) which is actually quite unique for a Dsmp character...

“I’ve tried ‘power’ in the past and it doesn’t work! It doesn’t work! You can’t just use overwhelming force, it works for... short-term at best” (...) “I can’t control the actions of the world through overwhelming power, it doesn’t work. It just doesn’t”

(Wish the dumbasses from Doomsday would learn this...)

Either way Foolish explains that strenght, power and violence didn’t work for him in the past because they simply can’t work. Not long term at least. All the while building provides him with a sense of control over his own creations satisfying both his desire for control and his desire to create.

“Deep down you miss the power you once held. Go back to being a Totem of Death and together we can rule and create peace. Peace is what you want, right Foolish?” “Yes but it doesn’t work that way! It doesn’t work that way! It’ll never work that way...”

After a few moments of hesitation their conversation draws to a close with Foolish bathing himself in the water from Church Prime, with a honestly iconinc line: “You know, and I mean this in the most polite way possible, go to Hell”. This is also when the facade he’s had to somewhat keep up until now completely crumbles. Suddenly he realizes that he is too late to help anyone and doesn’t even know if anyone is still alive at all. He also starts confronting the fact that he died and the implication of this being that he is mortal. He also confronts the fact that he is scared. 

“Did I really die?” “Why am I afraid of it?” “How can I live such a long life and be afraid of it to end?” “I don’t see beauty in mortality” “I can’t die, can I?” “Even if I could die, why am I so afraid?” “The answers... I just want answers!”

He doesn’t find answers to his panic induced questions but, then again, he is not supposed to. Death doesn’t have a meaning, it’s just a function of life, nothing lasts forever. The same goes with fear. Even if in this case it is far from 

inexplicable for him to be afraid of the Egg or of dying (as one was the direct cause of the other in his case), fear is still an emotion. Emotions aren’t rational by definition. Basically what I’m saying is that there aren’t always answers to be had. Sometimes questions are meant to remain as such and that’s what makes them meaningful.

“Every time I thought I knew the Egg, every time I though I understood, I never had it right? Was I arrogant about it the whole time?”

He also seems to have developed a level of paranoia about the Egg, wondering how much it knew, how many people knew about his stuff, if he is safe anywhere or if the Egg was right about him and what he wanted. He also starts questioning his own perception of reality and wondering if the Banquet itself was just an illusion created by the Egg.

It’s also interesting that Foolish remains of the opinion that no-one in the Eggpire is at fault. No matter what happens to him he still sees the Egg as a sort of infection and all those under it’s control as victims just as much as anyone else the Egg harms. 

(Also the sun is used once more as a simbol of hope, though Foolish describes it as “cruel” because it disappears)

The stream ends with Foolish promising to himself that he’ll figure things out. Though, as I said before, sometimes the point of a question is to not have an answer.

[inadaydream99]

hiii can i request a mark lee x female reader drabble? something where she tells mark she thinks he’s embarrassed of her because he doesn’t show any pda infront of the other members so to prove her wrong he like kisses her and stuff the next time she visits him during practice?? thank you

A/N - hey, thanks for requesting! Sorry this has taken so long to write, I’ve been so busy! I hope you enjoy 😊 also, I hope you don’t mind, but I kinda deviated a little from the plot unintentionally...

Oblivious

It had been a long and tiring day for everyone, yourself included, and all you wanted was to be able to go home and cuddle up in bed with your boyfriend.

You exhale a sigh under your breath as the guys begin practicing for what seems like the millionth time that day. The same song echoing throughout the room once again. It’s a wonder they still seem to have so much energy. Though you’ve been told before that it’s fueled by determination.

“I’m exhausted.” Mark exasperatedly sighs as he takes a seat beside you on the floor. You must have zoned out for a lot longer than you thought because you hadn’t even noticed the music stop.

“Me too. But it’ll be worth it when we have to show what we’ve come up with.” Doyoung breathlessly responds before taking a large gulp of water.

They had been working tirelessly for the last two weeks on this new routine for their next comeback. Never had you seen all the guys so stressed in your life and it’s all because they were given the opportunity to choreograph a dance and didn’t want to mess it up. You were proud of their hard work, supporting them in every way you could. It’s the least you could do.

Your eyes cast around the room, everyone taking a moment to catch their breath back before finding the last piece of strength within them to pack away their things and head home. Faint amusement creeps across your face when you notice Jungwoo laying on the floor in the centre of the room. I wonder how long it’ll take before someone jumps on top of him?

... and a second later Haechan does exactly that.

“You good?” You turn your head to face Mark after chuckling at Haechan’s childishness, meeting his gaze as he waits for an answer. Although his words seem like they care, his eyes look tired and uninterested. It almost feels like he’s saying it because he has to. But you repress that feeling for arguments sake.

“Yeah.” You smile, simultaneously reaching out to find his hand and interlace your fingers. Your smile, however, quickly fades when you sense his reluctance, catching his hand moving out of reach from the corner of your eye.

“We should get going.” Mark mumbles, avoiding eye contact by picking up his phone and shoving some things into his bag.

You watch him through a pained expression, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip slightly jutted out in confusion. Had you done something wrong? You weren’t sure. But you know you’re not getting an answer anytime soon because Mark has already left.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes brimmed with tears as you keep your face tilted to the ground in hopes that no one noticed Mark’s coldness towards you.

“Come on (Y/N).” Yuta shoots you a sympathetic smile before extending his hand out to pull you up. You force a meek smile back, accepting his offer by muttering a light “thank you.” But that doesn’t stop the sinking feeling in your chest.

~

You’re not sure how to act towards Mark when you get back and the whole journey you’re in your head battling over different scenarios. You’re even debating on whether to go to the dorms or go straight to your apartment. You live in the same building as the guys, hence why you’re going home with them, but it isn’t uncommon for you to head to theirs most nights so you can spend time alone with Mark. Except, tonight you’re unsure if your boyfriend would even want you there. It also doesn’t help that he chose to go in a separate car.

“He’s been acting like that with everyone.” You hear Jaehyun’s empathetic voice break the silence.

“Yeah, please don’t let it hurt you.” Your eyes flicker up to meet Taeyong’s after sending a thankful smile towards Jaehyun.

“I know.” You sigh, not feeling up to talking much. You appreciate their kind words but you feel more hurt over the fact that Mark never reciprocates your affection when others are around. All they seem to see is when he rejects your affection.

By the time you’ve reached the dorms, Mark has already been home long enough to have taken a warm shower and rinse off the day. You have to hold back your scoff and eye roll when he walks into his room with a contented expression, humming some random tune.

“You staying tonight?” He flops onto the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he tries to draw you into his chest. Oh, so now he wants affection?

“(Y/N)?” He tries to get your attention, noticing how you haven’t accepted his cuddle yet. You haven’t even taken your eyes away from your phone screen. “What’s wrong? Did one of the guys annoy you on the way home?” And that’s when you lose it, letting out the unimpressed scoff you’ve been holding in. How oblivious can he really be!

“One of the guys? You are kidding me Mark.” You force your way out of his hold, sitting up properly so he can see your stearn expression. “All week you’ve been acting off around me, everyone noticed it.” You spit, trying to hold back your emotions.

“You wouldn’t even hold my hand earlier... it’s like you’re embarrassed to be with me.” You shift your gaze away from him the second you feel a tear run down your cheek. Great. Now I’m crying.

“That’s not fair, you know how busy I’ve been.” Mark calmly responds. He doesn’t seem angry or upset, in fact it’s only annoying you more that he’s not showing any reaction at all. Does he even care?

“You know what... forget it.” You exasperatedly stand up from his bed. “You clearly aren’t that into me anymore.” You feel your chest tighten, throat going dry as you do everything you can to hold back your hurt.

“Where are you going?” Mark sends you puppy eyes. He’s scared of your next words but he doesn’t know how to stop them from being uttered.

“Just... figure out what’s really important to you.” Is all you can bring yourself to say before finally walking away.

~

Five days, almost a full week since you’ve seen Mark. Yes, he’s been calling and messaging non stop, but you’ve simply left him on read. It’s not that you don’t want to be around him anymore, you just feel hurt and need more time before you go running back to him.

Sat in a secluded corner of the cafe you enjoy some quality time to yourself. For the first time since your argument with Mark you’re feeling ok, allowing yourself to enjoy the freshly brewed coffee as you listen to the radio that’s quietly played in the background. That doesn’t last long however, an abundance of noise growing ever closer from the street outside.

Your gaze flickers towards the entrance as the door swings open and the previously calm cafe is filled with noise.

“(Y/N)!” Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes widening and posture becoming stiff upon the breathless shout of your name. Although you couldn’t see who had called for you, the voice was unmistakable.

“We got approval.” Is the first thing Mark says to you as he reaches your table. He uses it for leaverage for a moment, ducking his head down as he catches his breath back.

“Ummm...” You awkwardly manage out, consciously gazing around the room, watching as what feels like hundreds of eyes become invested in your interaction. How’d he even know you were here?

You notice Mark’s head slightly lift, peaking up at you with his adorably awkward but amused grin. It’s clear he’s just as aware of the prying and eager people intruding your moment, but he doesn’t seem to care. After all, you know he’s used to it.

“The groups routine got approved today.” Mark clarifies, finally standing up properly once again.

“Should you even be here?” You counteract, guilt filling you as you notice his smile suddenly fall.

“Oh. Well, I, just...” Mark fumbles over his words, rubbing the back of his inflamed neck in embarrassment. “I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

You simply nod, holding back your reaction. “Could we maybe go somewhere more private?”

~

“You know, while the guys were celebrating I couldn’t help but feel underwhelmed, but then I realised that it was because the only person I cared about being there to celebrate with wasn’t around...” Mark confesses, his head hanging low as he sits on the edge of his bed next to you.

“And it was all my fault that you were, are, mad at me.” He solemnly mumbles the last part.

Yes, he’d hurt your feelings. But now you know he’d never intended too, that he was just so caught up in not wanting to let his group down. You understand that.

It had taken the whole journey back to his for him to explain everything, starting at all the pressure he’d felt to the day his cold attitude had finally pushed you over the edge.

“I’m not gonna say that pushing me away didn’t hurt, because it did.” Mark lifts his gaze when you begin to speek. “But I get that you had a lot on your plate and didn’t want to be smothered.” You shoot him a comforting smile.

“I still shouldn’t have been so inconsiderate to your feelings.” He sighs.

“Just as long as you don’t do it again we’ll be fine.” You softly chuckle, your heart skipping a beat when a grin appears on Mark’s face.

“I promise.” He nods, both of you staring at each other with stupidly cheesy smiles.

~

“There you are!” Mark instantly envelops you in a tight embrace the second you step foot into their practice room. “I missed you.” He whispers, gently placing a tender kiss to your lips.

“Well, I realised I never got to properly congratulate you all.” you turn to face everyone, elated with all the affection you’re receiving from Mark.

“You’re too adorable.” Mark coo’s, spinning you back around to face him once again.

“Yuck! Get a room.” Haechan mocks, pretending to vomit. But neither you or Mark mind, and besides, it’s not a bad idea...

[caneannabelle]

ok hi guys. it’s been a while. i wrote this analysis back when Mag 187 aka Checking Out aka The One Where Helen Dies first came out and literally ever since i’ve posted it i’ve wanted to redo it because it feels. lacking. listen if there’s one thing i hate it’s incomplete media analysis and i must right my wrongs lest i be forced to look upon myself and crumble from within. that being said, i’ve been putting off this rewrite for a long long time bc Life Gets Weird. tldr this was written over the course of several months so i apologize for inconsistent quality. anyways let’s get into it!

part one: recap!

it’s been a while! let’s just go over what happened. the scene i wanna focus on in particular is this one:

VICTIM

You’ve got to help me!

ARCHIVIST

[Angrily] Don’t touch me!

[THE ARCHIVIST PULLS AWAY, AS THE VICTIM FALLS AND IS CRYING]

HELEN

Oopsie. Not so easy, is it? Keeping up your humanity?

(187).

that being said i’m gonna be kind of all over the place but! i do think that’s a good jumping off point.

part two (part one): disparaging everyone’s problematic fav

in my original post my point was that in reflexively reacting to a victim with disgust and anger jon inadvertently reveals the nature of his dedication to helping victims as ego driven, especially because this line is directly preceded by him asserting his moral high ground over helen as being a “protector” as opposed to her indulgence in destruction. what i’m saying is homeboy has a savior complex. honestly there’s a lot of evidence to support that claim but i think the most obvious example would be jordan kennedy. like.

JORDAN

…Yeah. But wrong. Sick.

What did you do to me?

ARCHIVIST

I helped you.

JORDAN

Helped me? I don’t feel right, I, I just – Ah! No I don’t – argh! I don’t want this!

(184). to be clear it’s an action with a good intent! he just wants to help someone who once helped him! BUT it also demonstrates a lack of conscious empathy. i feel like i don’t have to argue this since jordan Literally vocally said he didn’t want this several times throughout the scene but the point remains that while jon’s intent is good the actual application of his saviourism removes the autonomy of those he affects. i’m not gonna touch on the “is it objectively immoral to become an oppressor for the sake of self preservation while existing within an extreme system in which all are oppressed regardless of your individual status” query mostly because i do not have the brainpower available rn to come to my own conclusion about systems of power and the way they’re represented in tma (which is a whole other rant tbh) but jon DOES rob jordan of the ability to come to his own conclusion in this debate and make his own choice, thereby removing his autonomy. you know. autonomy. free will. the thing that is central to jon’s internal conflicts. huh.

anyways i NEED to stress that i’m not saying that he’s the same as jonah or the web or even annabelle (although annabelle is a victim. no i don’t take constructive criticism). i just want to point out that his actions reflect a lack of understanding. while he’s able to empathize with the pain others experience and is eternally hyper- aware of it he is unable to view that pain through any lense besides his own and uses it in his cycle of self pity and blame, minimizing it at any point possible in the quickest way and Not prioritizing the wishes of the victim but instead the efficiency in decreasing his own guilt. anyways back to 187- both the victim and jordan are treated as props by jon (and helen) and once they serve their purpose in reaffirming the two’s sense of self are cast aside and ignored. ok from here i’m gonna get conceptual and self indulgent bc it’s my analysis and i get to bring up vague convoluted philosophy.

part two (part two): part two

let’s talk about the distortion for a sec. i refuse to believe helen and michael were both completely gone and it was just the distortion piloting their visage, mostly because… like that’s not what the text would indicate

HELEN

Michael isn’t me. Not now.

ARCHIVIST

What happened?

HELEN

He got… distracted. Let feelings that shouldn’t have been his overwhelm me.

Lost my way.

(101). it’s heavily implied that there was SOME remainder of michael in there, even if the being wasn’t him. maybe i’m way off base here but the way i interpreted the implosion of michael was that it was driven by his inability to maintain the repressed resentment and anger he had for gertrude. like it’s pretty clear that some warped version of michael’s feelings were trapped inside of the distortion and i’d go as far as to say that they were integral to his formation as it. i’m gonna operate on the assumption that michael and helen are two separate beings here for a sec even though we know they’re not. As opposed to michael’s resentment for the archivist, helen actively sought refuge in the institute and from the small amount we saw of her Pre-Distortion it seems like her paranoia is internally directed. i think you could even say that while michael was caught in an eternal battle with the concept of connection, helen is caught in a battle with the concept of self. the point is that she thinks of jon in a less “The Archivist” sense and more as just That Guy who she had an intense connection with that one time.

ARCHIVIST

So… S-so what do you want?

HELEN

I don’t know. Helen liked you, so… there’s a lot to consider. But I will help you leave.

(101). i would also like to point out that helen’s emergence as the distortion coincides with jon coming to terms with his identity as the archivist. parallels, baby! SO helen is a newly formed being that is grappling with the concept of her own existence and jon is reevaluating his understanding of identity as he comes to terms with the fact that he is turning into the thing he’s fighting against and this is all happening at the same time. live laugh love. stay with me here, i promise i’ll get back to 187. Throughout seasons 4 and 5 helen attempts to validate her own moral decisions via jon who she once saw herself in. conversely, jon sees both an image of what he could become AND arguably a representation of his past failure in her.

ARCHIVIST

It did. I think… I mean, you remember how I was back then, how paranoid. The Not!Sasha was there, and I could sense something wasn’t right, but I just couldn’t place it. It left me a suspicious wreck. Then when Helen Richardson came in, it seemed like… she was in the same place I was, but worse, further along. I thought, maybe if I could help her, that would mean… maybe I wasn’t beyond help?

(188). helen and jon lie at opposite ends of the same spectrum. both of them derive pleasure from the suffering of others

HELEN

Oh, John! This existence can be wonderful, if you just let it.

ARCHIVIST

[Sadly] I know.

(187). needless to say that a LOT of jon's arc and the themes surrounding him focus on the concept of autonomy and addiction and i think it'd be fair to say that this component is an aspect of that. repressing these qualities is both a way of reaffirming his control and also just.. him trying to be what he perceives as Good, and season 5 is the point at which this comes to the forefront of his character- particularly the line between what is intrinsic and what he truly has control over. a battle of the concept of the self, if you will. while the two share similar traits, jon is intensely moralistic while helen indulges in a twisted sense of hedonism and both are fueled by an inability to expand their viewpoint. helen fully immerses herself within these qualities and intentionally blinds herself to any concepts of morality (indulgence), and jon actively pushes back on this as hard as he can and follows black and white moral framework (repression). this means that in order for their relationship to function he must either accept her, choosing to let go in his personal battle with autonomy OR she must break out of her worldview and conform to standards of human morality which goes against her own nature.

part three: questions i do not have the answer to

so. what does it all mean. WELL. 187 is the boiling point of all this tension. we know that helen relies on jon to validate her sense of self and we know that jon sees himself in helen, both past and present

HELEN

But that doesn’t make any sense. You barely met her. You had half an hour together, and she spent most of that ranting about mazes! She was positively delirious with paranoia!

ARCHIVIST

True. But as you’ll recall, I was pretty paranoid myself at that point.

HELEN

So what? You saw yourself in her? A sad reflection? A possible future?

(187). I’d argue that 187 is demonstrative of jon’s inability to either fall into complete indulgence in intrinsic values that lack moral validity vs. maintain and image of self that does not conflict with the values he attempts to uphold in order to find internal satisfaction and yes both of those concepts are inherently egocentric as he bases his moral judgement on what he can justify to himself instead of what can be calculated via empathy. however. paired with the alternative (helen). is that BAD. is it inherently selfish to do what you perceive as good in order to feed your own savior complex? and if so, is it inherently selfish to indulge in destructive qualities as to not delude yourself? is honesty vs deception a black and white question? if not, where does helen even fall? in not deluding herself does she achieve a moral high ground? IS she deluding herself by denying the potential to be facetiously benevolent at the detriment of both her personal enjoyment and her honesty? does helen even posses the capability to repress her violent qualities? if she doesn't, does she have any autonomy? if she and jon are both inherently selfish and intentionally resistant to introspection, what makes them different? i do not have answers but i do think the text is meant to invoke these questions. i mean,

MICHAEL (STATEMENT)

There was a great evil, she said, and Michael was going to help her fight it. Am I evil, Archivist? Is a thing evil when it simply obeys its own nature? When it embodies its nature? When that nature is created by those which revile it? Perhaps Gertrude believed so. Michael certainly did. He believed everything she told him.

(101).

part 5: conclusion

so once again. what does it all mean. well! even post helen’s death jon continues to fight for autonomy and preserve his moral worldview so. i think that probably indicates something good.

MARTIN

Huh. She couldn’t help what she was, I guess.

ARCHIVIST

She didn’t even try.

(188). i honestly don’t have a thesis i just find it incredibly interesting how the themes surrounding these two intersect and play off of each other. anyways looping back to 187 i do think in a broad sense jon killing helen is representative of him choosing to stick by his convictions and keep fighting. i don’t have any good way to end this but thanks for sticking around during my self indulgent rambling!

[chdarling]

I just finished TLE and I’m in love, thank you so much for your beautiful writing! I had a random fun characterization Q, but no worries if you don’t wanna answer! For our 4 Marauders and Lily: what do you hc they’d each be like at an amusement park? Not sure if the wizarding world has those, but in any case, do you think the gang would like extreme roller coasters if they had the chance to ride them? Or would some of them refuse to ride or be secretly nervous on them? 😁

oh my god, anon, you have no idea the wormhole this message sent me down 🙈

See, this reminded me rather forcefully of a plot line from a long, LONG time ago (like, a decade ago, back when TLE was nothing more than a few scribbled scenes I kept in a word doc in a secret folder on my school laptop LOL), in which James came to apologize to Lily over the summer after 5th year but it just so happened to be the week that the Cokeworth Fun Fair came to town and oh no circumstances happened and James has to attend with Lily and then it turns into a slight fake dating situation due to a Muggle boy who has been aggressively pursuing a thoroughly disinterested Lily and so they pretend that James goes to some elite boarding school and studies theoretical physics (“No one will ask questions,” Lily explains), and all in all James has a great time even though he’s tragically bad at bumper cars and also deeply baffled by the goldfish prizes and then eventually they have a Soft Moment™ by the carousel as the fun fair is dying down and Lily asks him why he isn’t nice like this at school? and James is all “because I’m stupid?” and they have a heart to heart and Lily is like oh no why am I feeling things I’m not supposed to do that.

And just in case you think I’m making this up:

They stopped to watch the carousel go around again, though this time there was no one riding it and it looked rather lonesome.

“So what do you think of your first muggle funfair?” asked Lily, leaning against the back of a stall, watching the ornate horses go round and round.

“Fascinating,” said James enthusiastically, and Lily laughed. “Although I’m still confused about the goldfish. And physics.”

Maybe it was the strange quiet of the closing festival or that continuously discomfiting feeling of two distinct parts of her life colliding, but something compelled Lily to turn to James and say, “How come you’re not nice like this at school?” The moment she said it she wished she hadn’t, and she looked hastily at the ground, her cheeks burning.

James was quiet for a moment. “Because I’m an idiot,” he said finally.

None of this is in TLE. Not even a little bit. 😂 But after your message sparked this long-repressed memory I was like “I must find this immediately,” and I went hunting through all my old files to the oldest of the old. I keep literally everything, so there it was, lurking under a folder helpfully titled “old” — but my god let me tell you, reading your own writing from a decade ago is…humbling. 🙈🙈🙈

But while for the most part this reread was a painful endeavor for me, what was really interesting is that some of the dialogue is very clearly an early precursor to bits that made it into the TLE2 draft. Like, so far removed from this very specific, bizarre scenario, but the bones of the conversation are the same. (Not the one above lol). Sometimes I forget how long this silly story has been simmering in my brain!!!

Anyway, this hasn’t answered your question at all, but it evoked such a weirdly specific memory that I had to go on a giant tangent 😂

As far as head canons for the Marauders: Sirius is obviously super into near-death experiences via rollercoaster, James is going to do anything Sirius dares to, even if he’s secretly a little unsure about these wobbly Muggle devices, Peter tags along but ends up getting sick, Remus abjectly refuses (“I feel plenty nauseous on my own without external help, thanks”) and instead explores the wonders of fair food (also leading to nausea, but oh well). Lily likes the fair games best because she beats James handily every time, despite his increasingly desperate attempts to win her a giant teddybear. Sirius accidentally wins a goldfish and is distraught because he is in no way emotionally prepared to be a parent.

And with that I will see myself out. 🤡

[rrtechno]

Self Assessment: A Key to Knowing Yourself Better

Sometimes there comes a point in my life where I find it hard to answer questions like "Who am I?" or "What can you say about yourself?". My mind would lag so much trying to seek for the right words. It's funny and ironic because how can I not know myself well when it's me who owns my life, right?

To help me assess myself, I took some tests called the Berkeley Innovation Index (BII) Test and MBTI Test. For a small overview, the BII defines and evaluates an individual's ability to innovate. MBTI, on the other hand, determines the personality type of a person including its strengths and weaknesses.

Let me share my insights and results first with the Berkeley Innovation Index Test. In BII, there are statements presented and I have to indicate how I perceive myself with regards to those. After answering the questions/statements, I received a 63.81 score out of 100 as my personal innovation mindset level. It further stated that my mindset is not fixed and that I can grow it in any area that I choose.

There is a graph that shows what score level I got with the different personality components. I got the lowest score in trust which is only 42 and that made me realized how I suck at believing others or perhaps I am just too self-reliant that I do not need to depend on them. Trust is something I cannot give to just anyone. My second lowest component is diversity with a score of 45 that means I do not engage much to people who have different backgrounds as me. This is actually quite true. Maybe this is the reason why I only have few friends. My social barrier is too high for someone to reach.

I got the highest score level in belief. I assume this pertains to belief in myself, not to others. Like what I said, perhaps I am too self-reliant and that tells a lot about how confident I am with my own capabilities. I will not go over the details of other components but just to name them, these are the following: resilience, allocation, collaboration, comfort zone and innovative zone. I had a fair score to each one of them. I hope to improve myself someday to be able to have a better innovation mindset.

Proceeding, according to my results in MBTI Test, my personality type is defender ISFJ-T. I am 93% introverted, 57% observant, 56% feeling when making decisions, 60% judging, and 58% turbulent. I would agree on being introverted. Most of the time, I just really enjoy being alone with myself and do stuff I am comfortable with like binge watching series and listening to music.

As I read my profile about this type of personality, it stated that defender personalities (particularly turbulent ones) are typically thorough to the point of perfectionism, and even if they procastinate, they can always be counted on to complete tasks on time. This is very accurate based from my own experiences. Oftentimes, I tend to be meticulous especially when doing something very important such as academic works. Although sometimes I do not start right away, I still make sure I submit my work not beyond the deadline.

Moreover, one of defender's strength is being universal helpers or simply being supportive. As someone who loves act of services, I agree with that. When someone is in need of help no matter how big or small it is, I usually lend a hand to them. Helping others give me so much satisfaction. It makes me happy of course without asking anything in return. Defenders are also reliable, patient, loyal, hard-working, and has good practical skills.

For weaknesses, defenders are humble and shy, take things too personally, repress their feelings, and overload themselves. I think these are also very accurate for me. For instance, about repressing feelings, oftentimes, I internalize my emotions at a great deal. When something wrong is going on with me, I keep it with myself only for the reason that I do not want others to see my vulnerable side and worry about me because I know everyone has problems in life. As much as possible, I do not want to burden others with my own conflicts. But I do appreciate their presence and effort to reach out.

Taking these tests truly help me discover myself deeply and I am very thankful for that. Being self-aware gives us the ability to recognize not only ourselves but also how people perceive us. Moreover, we are able to consider our strengths and weaknesses as a tool to become better versions of ourselves. I am sure I am on my way to that. And I hope you, too! We should not stop learning about who we are. Lastly, I would like to leave this quote here.

“The more you know yourself, the more clarity there is. Self-knowledge has no end - you don't come to an achievement, you don't come to a conclusion. It is an endless river.” ― Jiddu Krishnamurti.

Wanna take the test, too? Just click on the link below.

BII Test:

MBTI Test:

[oohnoniall]

A Court of Fire and Ice {Tamlin x OC} - Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Warnings: Tamlin is being portrayed as he is in ACOMAF and ACOWAR. Trigger warnings include fantasy violence, misogyny, swearing, and Tamlin being an uncontrollable rage beast (no domestic violence !!)

        He felt as though he could hear the clanging of blades from the safety of his office. He could certainly hear her shouting at herself whenever she made a mistake through the bond. He wondered who in the hell had thought hearing each other would be a good idea. It had just kept him from signing what documents he had needed to.

        He realized that he could not concentrate, not as he wanted to. Slowly, he made his way to the window. Peering out to see her, standing with his guards. Those that had been told to protect Feyre, to protect Rosehall. He had no idea how she had managed to convince them to allow her to train with them. He didn't know how she had learned when they trained.

        Though they were far from the house, he could still see her rather well. His sight was more advanced than any mere mortal's. He slightly wondered if it was more than a normal Fae's. Did the beast give him additional advantages? It wasn't something he liked to ponder. He would rather keep that side of him locked away. He didn't want anyone knowing that his family had been right.

        He was nothing but a beast.

        Lyriel, however, looked almost god-like as she stood in the middle of the circle. Her undone hair whipping wildly around her face, her eyes staring daggers into one of his men. A dagger in one hand and a sword in the other. He wondered briefly if she had trained to use her blades however she could. Or if she just liked how pointy they were.

        She lunged then, using the dagger to catch the guard off guard. He barely managed to get away, a slight nick appearing on his neck. Lyriel did not stop, her movements a deadly dance. She would block with her dagger or use it to create a distraction while using the sword to attack. Where in the hell had Kallias been hiding this woman? This weapon.

        Surely there was a reason for her brutality, the war that was brewing in her pine eyes. Her past was a mystery to him.

        He wanted it to remain so.

        Still, there was beauty in her destruction. He noticed how she breathed as she moved. Exhaling with a lunge, keeping her spine straighter than the sword she held in her hand. He wondered what it would take for her to break. Would he even want to see that?

        The guard managed to land a blow, his blade slicing into her left bicep.

        A growl began to form in Tamlin's stomach, his body reacting to the idea of another man harming the one person that he was meant to protect. He shoved it down. As far down as he possibly could. Yet, the slightest sound escaped him. At least it hadn't been a roar.

        He had no way of explaining that. A growl at least could have been his displeasure at the woman going against his instruction.

        "Tam." 

        The voice made him start. How in the hell had he missed them coming into the office? How long had they been watching him? His focus on Lyriel was far too distracting.

        Tamlin turned then, his green eyes narrowing as he looked over at Lucien. His friend was trying to hide a smirk. Trying and failing. And humans thought that the Fae were a tricky bunch. They were just assholes who could barely hide their amusement. Especially when it came to those they cared for.

        "Yes, Lucien?" He questioned, moving to sit back at his desk. The picture of the High Lord that everyone wanted to see. Just not what he had thought it would be.

        "We've received word from Cariaru," he stated casually as he moved to sit in the chair across from Tamlin. His legs went over the side, his metal eye roaming around the room as though he were looking for secrets. For the truths that Tamlin was hiding from everyone.

        "And?" Tamlin set up just a bit. His eyes lighting with a hint of excitement. Cariaru had been their insight into the Night Court ever since they had been freed from Under the Mountain. Her mate was one of Rhysand's inner circle. It had been an opening that they had all deemed somewhat worthy.

        After all, her mate did not seem interested in anyone but Rhysand's blonde cousin.

        "Rhys hasn't said a word about Feyre," Lucien casually looked towards the window, his metal eye stopping there. "But he is reaching out to other Lords. No doubt trying to do something to repair his reputation. Is Lyriel training?"

        "We'll let him be," he sighed softly, his hair falling into his eyes as he shook his head once. Getting Feyre out of whatever deal the two had made was much more important to him than Rhysand making amends or attempting to. They all knew what Rhys had done. What he was probably going to continue doing if he was given the chance. "Yes, I don't know who in the hell told her when they meet."

        "This is what happens when you steal soldiers. They tend to train." Lucien almost grinned at his friend, a twinkle in his russet eye. "Now, why did you steal her? Don't give me that emissary shit. She's no courtier."

        "That's all this is, Lucien." He did not find it hard to lie to his best friend. He knew that he should. He knew that he should hate himself for not sharing this with someone. But he just couldn't. He couldn't let anyone know about the horrible truth. He didn't want Feyre, most of all, to realize that they would never be a mated pair. They could love each other, they always would, but he would never be the man that was meant for her.

        Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was him being controlling. He didn't know. He didn't really care either. He and Feyre had been through the worst. No one else in this world could possibly understand what they had gone through.

        After all, no one else had stabbed him through the heart before.

        "Of course it is," his friend's eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on his face. If it were not for the scar on his face, Tamlin was certain that Lucien would have been the one that made people stop and stare. He still did. Just not for the reasons Tamlin wanted. "You were about to jump through the window when I came in. Did someone hurt her?"

        Lucien was too perceptive for his own good. It made Tamlin's stomach hurt. How would he explain this? How in the hell had he been careless enough to let Lucien figure this whole thing out? It didn't seem fair that he was struggling this hard. After everything, it should have been a closed book. The happily ever after should have played out. Instead, it seemed as though life was determined to drag out the difficulties. It seemed as though he was taking blow after blow. 

        "No," he was lying too much. He knew it would start to appear in his scent if he kept this damn thing out. "I'm just annoyed that she ignored me."

        "She's not your soldier, Tam."

        "She's in my court. That should count for something." Shouldn't it?

        "Something tells me that Lye listens to herself and no one else." The grin on his face was enough to make Tamlin's stomach twist in a very unpleasant way. Had something happened between the pair? Or was he just overreacting?

        "Lye?" His eyebrow twitched up slightly. "Since when do you have nicknames for strangers?"

        Lucien shrugged his broad shoulders. "She's not that strange. Besides, if she's going to be here for a while we might as well be friendly."

        The way he said it made Tamlin see red. He knew that Lucien would not do anything if he asked him to. But the thought that his friend might be looking at her at all made him want to kill him. Damn possessiveness. He had thought he was bad enough when it came to Feyre. But this was something new entirely.

        Even when Lucien had tried to kill Feyre, he had not been this upset. Although, that was also before he had fallen in love with the woman. The whole thing was a little convoluted and he didn't like to think of it too much.

        "Not too friendly, Lucien," he tried to sound casual, less tense as he spoke. "I don't need a child running around Rosehall just yet." He wanted to throw up as the words left his mouth. He hoped that his face did not give anything away. 

        "Calm down, Tamlin," he laughed lightly, brushing off whatever mood that his friend may have been in. "You know that I'm not that type of man."

        He shoved down the feelings of anger that were building in him, the feeling of his claws pressing against his fingernails. Keeping them inside hurt him more than he ever could explain. He didn't know why. His beast form had been so close to the surface for years, constantly fighting it back. Fighting to keep it down, keep it repressed. Just like everything.

        The Spring Court was beautiful but that didn't stop demons from plaguing his mind.

        You're yelling, the voice spoke before he had any chance to respond to Lucien. It's not helping my concentration.

        I'm not concerned about your concentration right now.

        You should be. I almost skewered one of your men.

        He tried to keep his face neutral, but one of his brows ticked up just slightly. He played it off by coughing, although he was certain that Lucien was staring at him as though he had just murdered someone in front of him. That or he could see the very voice that was inside of his head.

        Could Lucien do that? He knew the metal eye could see more than they knew, but surely it could not penetrate the mind. But what if? What if Lucien was drawing this out? What if he knew all along about this whole situation but had kept it to himself?

        "Send word to Cariaru," he coughed once more, trying to hide the tension in his voice. "I want more info on Rhysand's movements. Tell her to keep up with that shadowsinger as well. We haven't heard shit about him since she left us."         

        It frustrated him that they knew next to nothing about those in Rhysand's court. They knew his two cronies, Azriel and Cassian, but they didn't know enough. Not about their movements. Not about their plans. If this girl was the one way they could get that information, he would use her for all that she was worth. He just hoped they could bring her home before she wound up getting caught.

        Even she would not be able to hide from her mate forever.

        "She might be unwilling to give us any information about him," Lucien spoke gently, the truth of it was it might be more dangerous to spy on Azriel than it was to spy on Rhysand.

        "She'll do it. For the Spring Court," he said with a slight nod of his head. Even if he knew that he was potentially sending her to her death. He had faith in the girl. He knew she wouldn't get in over her head. At least, he hoped that she wouldn't.

        His conscious couldn't take any more failures.

        "I'll send word," Lucien moved to stand, his eyes roving to the window again. "Lyriel seems capable."

        Lucien turned on his heel and slipped out of the room without being dismissed. Tamlin wondered if he did that just to be annoying or if he had more pressing matters to attend to. Keeping an eye on their spy was somewhat important after all. Even if he did not think it should be the most important thing in the world right now.

        After all, he was in his own personal hell and no one seemed to notice. Well, no one but the woman who seemed to be in his mind. He had always thought he would never have to deal with that part of a bond. His parents had certainly never acted as though they could hear each other.

        It had to be another curse from the Mother. This whole thing seemed to be designed as a hell for Tamlin Rosehall. It made him sick to know that he had no chance of figuring any of this out. If he did, maybe he wouldn't be so pissed about the whole situation.

        Tamlin tried to focus on his correspondence once more, his eyes blurring as the words poured from his pen. Words weren't easy to come by. He'd been good at lewd poetry, but that had never translated to giving the other Lords updates about the Spring Court. Nor was he good at telling anyone he needed anything. There was a lot he would rather keep to himself. His dealings in his Court was one thing he wanted to keep to himself.

        He didn't need anyone knowing that he was still trying like hell to rebuild. Didn't want them to know that he was struggling to keep the people's faith in him.

        The only thing that kept the faith anymore was Feyre. It was another reason why he had to keep her safe, keep her protected. If he lost her he would lose himself. And the support of his people.

        It made him sick just to think of it.

        He blinked slowly, his eyes focusing on the words that had bled through the pages. When he didn't focus, he often forgot his own strength. When he allowed himself to fall into his thoughts he often forgot that he was stronger than most. That he needed to focus just to keep from breaking everything. Tamlin hated this. Hated being so different from everyone.

        It was a far cry from the life he had once dreamed of. He would never get to play the fiddle in a traveling band. But perhaps he would be able to play more often now. Things were calming down. Although, he was certain that Hybern would not allow the slaying of their greatest general to go unpunished.

        He supposed it was luck that the fae were so slow to change, to revenge. There was more time to plan, more time to figure out how to keep his people safe. Even if just thinking about it made him sick to his stomach.

        A soft grunt brought him out of his thoughts. The scent of evergreen, frozen berries, and blood filled the room, making something within him roar with the need to protect, to hold. To do something that would risk everything that he had built. He had to stifle that voice, had to shove it as far down as he possibly could. If only to keep his Court from falling into shambles.

        "How did you find out about training?" Tamlin questioned without looking up from his letters.

        "I just stuck around the barracks." She slid into the seat that Lucien had been in only an hour before. "Your general seemed amused to see a woman fighting."

        He looked up at her then, taking in her hair that was windswept. He could see the tangles, the small braids at her temple to keep some of it back. Her brow was dotted with sweat, her pulse beating rapidly enough to make him shift in his seat. There were purple bags underneath her eyes, she looked at though she had not slept. Despite this, her eyes were bright. The joy was something he had not seen from her before. Something he doubted he would see many times in their lives. The cut on her bicep had healed, nothing but a pink line on her snow-like skin.

        She did, however, have another cut on her left cheek that was still freely bleeding.

        Tamlin wanted to find the man who had done it to her. He wanted to find him and rip him limb from limb. How dare he lay a single finger on Lyriel? How dare anyone touch her without his express permission? Even if he would never give it to anyone.

        "You shouldn't be fighting," he repeated his words from the night before. "How long were you at the barracks?"

        "As soon as you left me last night." Lyriel shrugged her shoulders casually as she relaxed in the chair. "I doubted anyone would go against your wishes."

        "Yet you did."

        "You're not my High Lord," she pointed out with a quirk of her lips. "Besides, I thought I might keep things interesting between us. It'll help keep us from ... Accepting things."

        He could tell that she felt awkward just speaking those words. He knew that he felt the same way. He didn't want to deal with the beast inside of him but neither did he wish to deal with the thought of Lyriel. He would pick the beast over her any day.

        "You're still a guest in my Court," he pointed out with a sigh. Tamlin wondered if that meant anything to her. "That does mean you need to act with a bit of decorum. Or respect."

        It was the way that she shrugged her shoulders that made the smile burst from his lips. She had an air that he didn't know if he liked or not, but it was definitely amusing. More than it should have been.

        "Honestly, you can't expect me to change myself. You're marrying someone else, I'm going back to the Winter Court soon enough. I don't see any of this going the way it's supposed to." Her words were far less amusing than her actions.

        "How is supposed to go?" He prayed to the Mother she didn't say a damn word about his wedding. How could that be wrong? He and Feyre belonged together. The curse wouldn't have broken otherwise.

        "According to the Mother and the Cauldron and whoever else decided to fuck us," Lyriel began to play with one of the daggers that lined her body. He briefly wondered how many she had. "We're supposed to be the ones that are ... Involved." Her brow furrowed as she spoke, forming a crease between what he assumed would have been her eyebrows. They were so light that he wondered if they had ever grown.

        Had Kallias faced this same issue? Why was he focused so much on her eyebrows? The imperfection of them reminded him that she was real. Not just a figment of his imagination. 

        "You do know you can use the proper words, right?" Tamlin looked away from the crease and her not-there eyebrows. He looked instead into her eyes. The green that was a weird mix of light and dark. Iced over and yet fierce enough to burn him if she tried to do so.

        "That makes it far too real." Lyriel shifted once in her seat, the scent of blood becoming stronger as she moved.

        His stomach lurched with the urge to protect her, to bind her wound and make damn sure that no one would ever get that close to her again. Even if he knew that it was stupid. They were not going to do anything of the sort. Risking what he had built was not his intention. He knew that Lyriel was not worth it. Even if she was a high-ranking member of the Winter Court, no one could beat Feyre.

        Feyre's light shone brighter than any of theirs. He knew that she would outshine all of them for the rest of her life. He just hoped that he would get to be the one to stand beside her.

        He would be. He didn't care what he had to do to make sure of it.

        "What do you expect me to do, Lyriel?" Tamlin sighed softly as he looked away from her, not daring to show her how much he was contemplating his decisions. Or how much he wasn't. "Throw the Cursebreaker away? I can't do that."

        "Because you love her or because your Court needs her?" She knew how to cut him to the core. He wondered if she did this with everyone or if it was just because of the bond they were supposed to share.

        "Both," he would not lie about this. There was no reason. "She sacrificed herself to save me. Surely you understand that."

        "I do." The way she said it made him think that she did not. "I just don't quite understand why I'm here."

        "A show of good faith?" Tamlin did not believe his own words for a moment. "Kallias wouldn't have been pleased if the Winter Court had been excluded from the festivities."

        "He wouldn't have given a shit." 

        "Have you spoken to him?" If she had, maybe there was more use in having her stick around.

        She shifted once more, clearly uncomfortable with the question. "My Lord may give us orders from time to time but that doesn't mean I speak to him."

        So that was out of the question. What good was she if she could not even guarantee him the Winter Courts favor? Why did he need her around? He didn't know the answer to his questions. But he knew that he could not just throw her away. Not until he figured out how to rid himself of this bond. For good.

        "Go clean yourself, Lyriel." He did not watch as she slipped out of the room. He didn't want to see her leave.

[pinkhairedlily]

goodbye to the clearest eyes

pair: kim namjoon/park jimin | minjoon, rating: G

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33675553

dropping a minjoon fic here as well (because why not)! :>

Namjoon glances at his phone for the seventeenth time that night, the digital clock blinking back 23:14 at him, and his screen flashing low battery warning since the 20 percent mark. He waits again for ten more minutes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the muted sound of the club on the street across and the passing honks of ubers. A ping stirs him up.

Disappointed but not surprised. He knows he set himself up for this.

“Joon hi. Hope you thought better - like before. I actually got a ride. Lucky huh. So anyway, please don’t mind my earlier texts. See you later.” Ironically, his phone thinks it’s the most opportune time to shut down, zero percent, no more warning. He softly thumps his head on the steering wheel, but his fingers are tightly gripping around it.

“I should stop this.” This is the same sentence he repeats for every conquest Jin conjures up every Friday of the week. He sighs, enraged but tired, and he starts the ignition.

Then his passenger side opens and comes in an angel.

“Excuse me?”

It’s Namjoon’s first expression. Blonde hair, lopsided smile that reaches his eyes, plump and pouty lips, flushed cheeks, and fair skin. He waves to his friends goodbye and reaches for the seatbelt.

He misses it and he chuckles. He tries again and almost gets it. Again, another hearty chuckle.

“You’re hammered,” Namjoon says. “But this is not an uber.”

The blonde man fits the seatbelt in successfully in his third try. He looks up at Namjoon, and he is disarmed by bright hazelnut irises which disappear in a wide smile. “Look I managed to wear my seatbelt.” His fingers, dainty fingers, meet each other to give himself a small, silent clap.

Namjoon’s heart is thumping. What is this is a new modus of a local gang? Using an angel-faced to lure innocents into their deaths? He clears his throat and tries to capture the blonde’s attention. “I would appreciate it if you get out of my car right now.”

Yeah, especially since I just got my license at 30 years old. Because Jin had his car towed.

The blonde is heaving and Namjoon knows what comes next. He opens the windows and gets ready to give him a paper bag stashed in his glove compartment. It’s actually reserved for Jin, waiting for its purpose for several weeks now, but at least a single piece gets to see the light for tonight.

The passenger waves away his offer of a vomit bag. He just lets his head loll on the side, eyes shut, smile still plastered on his cherubic face. Namjoon rakes his raven locks with his hand, and he decides then to fuck it. He’s in the neighborhood, he has an available car. He will do one kind deed today and bring this angel safely to his home.

But yeah fuck me too because my phone’s basically on coma and I’m geographically challenged. No choice then. “Hey you, I’m sorry but I don’t have the maps on. I can’t drive you.”

The blonde tries to sit up straight with his eyes still closed. “Can you first drive around? I don’t want to go home yet.”

This is a red flag, Namjoon knows. Far too many dreadful things have been happening nowadays and everyone is hardly to be trusted even when they have the most beautiful countenance he has ever seen. But he had too many losses this year, too many times he held out chances for someone who won’t return them back, too many hopes for beginnings but he got indefinite endings instead. Yeah, fuck it.

“Can you move away from the window so I can close it?” Namjoon asks.

“Can you leave my side open? I want to feel the cold air against my face,” the man replies. Now that Namjoon’s looking at him intently, he notices he must be in his early 20s, not more than 25 probably.

He stuffs the paper bag on his passenger’s dainty fingers (which thankfully he holds onto because dry cleaning would be a bitch) and drives towards the road he frequents when he gets stood up.

“It’s kinda cold.” His blonde locks are swaying with the wind.

Namjoon chuckles and checks his monitor. “Well it’s the transition between fall and winter. Do you want me to close it now?”

“No, not really. I love the cold. It makes my cheeks redder. It makes me aware of the blood in my body.”

“I like this season too although I’m not a fan of snowing. I’d rather walk than drive a car when it’s winter.” Namjoon steals a glance. “Looks like you really enjoyed tonight. Flushed and rosy cheeks are also good signs of life. Would you believe it’s a criteria males would look for in females they want for marriage and reproduction? Of course, this was back when patriarchy was still 100 percent practiced.”

Namjoon takes a right turn amid the dense canopy of hickory trees and into the tunnel. Now would be the most advantageous time for his passenger to kill him.

“Yes, I enjoyed tonight,” the blonde remarks. His hazelnut eyes are now open and trained on the road. “My friends and colleagues organized a farewell party.”

“Changing jobs?” Namjoon breathes slowly, waiting for the blonde to pull out a gun or knife.

“Nope, not really. I’m going away.”

Nothing comes for Namjoon’s life, and he feels the bubble of laughter in his throat. “Another city or abroad?”

His hazelnut eyes roll to the ceiling, and he ponders for a whole minute. “Yeah, abroad. That’s what I told them.”

The tunnel is empty, but Namjoon keeps a safe driving speed on the rightmost lane. Occasionally, a sports car would speed past them, the tires screeching with the echoes. He wonders if he should keep up the conversation, but gauging the other person’s responses, it seems like they don’t mind. “Oh that must be fun. I also went abroad after university, straight to Belgium. It felt freeing that time, but I realized just recently that I was probably running away.”

There he goes again, spilling his guts to a stranger at midnight in the middle of a tunnel. Namjoon’s mind now wonders if this blonde isn’t afraid of him. He’s bigger than this passenger, more muscular, and definitely taller. He can easily subdue him and drop him in the ocean.

“It’s somewhere I have to go to,” he replies. “I’ve never been to Belgium. Chocolates must be good there.”

“The roads are very bike friendly, if you’re curious.” Namjoon remembers the awe when he first set foot in Brussels. No annoying car honks, no bulky vehicles on the streets. Just people biking, in tune with nature, giving way to each other, the tiny bells ringing.

“Ah I also never learned how to bike. How disappointing.”

“It’s a nice skill to have, keeps you active, and obviously it decreases your carbon footprint.”

His passenger laughs like it’s a trill of a nightingale. “You have such a weird thought process!”

Namjoon’s voice wavers, part embarrassed, part socially anxious. He’s never good in dealing with extroverts. “Is it bad?”

The blonde shakes his head. “I’m saying it’s unique. Anyway, I won’t worry much about my carbon footprint.”

Namjoon clucks his tongue against his mouth. “You must be a mindful consumer.”

“Hmm, I’m not really sure. I guess I am?” His little pinky finger rests on the side of his lip. “But it gives me comfort that I’m alleviating Mother Earth’s illness somehow.”

They leave the tunnel and the smell of salt air arrests both of their senses. Namjoon opens the window on his side as well and breathes in the ocean. He normally frequents this area during sunsets, a few minutes when twilight sets in before it finally transitions to the night sky. His existence hovers in between those changes, all beautiful and all passing. It dawns on him that he took a plunge when he decided to drive here at this time. “Do you mind some music?”

“No, go ahead!”

Namjoon opens his radio, and the first notes of 400 Lux drifts from the speakers. The blonde lets an arm out on touches the air on the skin of his fingers. Namjoon notices this and mirrors him. The ocean greets them after a few seconds, quiet in its vastness despite the rhythmic buoy of the waves and the sound they make when they crash against the sandy shore.

“I’d like to visit many more places,” his companion continues. “Like Jeju Island. My grandmother plants the sweetest tangerines, and my ex-boyfriend would often come help out during harvest season. But I broke up with him just recently and cut off all ties.”

“Sorry about the ex-boyfriend,” Namjoon interjects. “He must be missing the tangerines a lot.”

“Let’s hope that’s the only thing he’ll be missing. By the time he’d miss me, he must have moved on already.”

The road comes a bit closer to the waters, and the wind drifts over some of the sea spray to them as the waves break against the side of the cliffs. “And here you are, sounding like you already miss him.”

“I won’t deny it.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “I found that it’s healthy to acknowledge your feelings than keep them all repressed so I’m honoring our bond by honoring the grief.”

“Sounds like good advice.” The guilt creeps up on Namjoon, but he ignores this for a moment. Maybe he can take this bit, store it, and use it in the future. It’s good advice anyway.

“I also want to visit Disneyland. I’ve never been to one. Couldn’t afford it. But I hate roller coasters and pirate ships, anything that has to do with heights. Although, if given the chance, I would try all of them at once even if I vomit after.”

“The lines are freakishly long.”

“How much do you think would it cost if I rent the whole place for a day?”

Namjoon laughs. “Pretty sure it would have at least six zeroes.”

“Oh I thought it would have seven.” They both break into guffaws. After a few seconds, the blonde continues his musing. “I would also love to visit my parents and see them again every day.”

“Can’t you do it now?”

The man stretched his arms in front of him and wiggles in his chair. “I’ll actually drop by tomorrow, spend some time before I truly go.”

Namjoon slowly turns on a blind curve, weighing the last sentence in his mind. “I moved out when I was 18 into the university dorms, and then I got my own apartment after graduation. Most of us go through that linear phase, don’t you think – growing out of our childhood homes and leaving the ‘youth’ behind.”

“You don’t even look like 30 yet.”

“I’m flattered. And you don’t look like you’re over 20s.”

“I get that a lot.” The blonde chuckles, not bothering to hide another set of blush on his cheeks. Under the dim light of the moon, Namjoon briefly notices the redness in his ears.

“But wouldn’t it be nice to come back to it, to that safe bubble when life becomes too overwhelming?” Somehow, Namjoon also feels a hot flush on his skin despite the icy air that has set in their atmosphere.

“We both know there’s no bubble anymore when we go back.”

“I guess it will take you a long time to come back.”

The passenger nods, his hazelnut eyes leaving the road to focus on the ocean. “A very, very, very long time. I may not see them again after I go.”

He must be moving for good, Namjoon thinks. Or he’s cutting off ties. Like I did so many years ago.

“Hey, can we stop over for water? I’m thirsty.”

Namjoon spots the 24/7 convenience store on the side of the road. He remembers this is a junction close to a fishing port hence the all-around operations. He parks on the empty lot and waits for the blonde to finish buying his needs. He comes back with four bottles of water and two bowls of already cooked instant ramen. “Would you like to eat by the shore?”

Sure why not in the middle of almost-winter? Namjoon follows him nonetheless, even sitting on the damp sand cross legged with ramen in between his hands. They slurp the noodles in silence punctuated by the crashing waves and occasional noise of the seagulls and the horn of incoming fishing fleets. They do not talk, too engrossed with the hot food and spicy broth.

Finally finished, they combine their garbage in what was supposed to be the passenger’s vomit bag. Namjoon initially walks to the direction of his car, but the passenger decides to walk along the shore for the minute, barefoot, his black leather mules secured in his other hand.

“Would you look at that? It’s finally used,” Namjoon jokingly remarks about the vomit bag.

The blonde chuckles at his lame attempt to lighten the mood. Namjoon finally notices the muted loss in his startlingly beautiful hazelnut eyes, and the layers of sadness covered up by his songbird laughter, but he knows it’s not his place to ask.

“Have you ever thought about death?” The way he asked it was so blunt, so deadpan, so out of the blue, and so far removed from his lively persona that Namjoon interacted with in the vehicle.

It catches him off guard, of course. He never really delved into it, not when he was too busy running away from his feelings for his college best friend, not when he came back and tried to rekindle that friendship and connection again, not when he was too busy wondering if it was already too late.

He was too busy facing the consequences of his life. “In passing, maybe.”

The blonde walks further into the water, the waves reaching to his knees. “What do you think happens after?”

“I personally don’t believe in afterlife or in God or in heaven.” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, aware that his being agnostic would sometimes earn an agitated reaction from people. “It just ends. You become food for the detritus, a fertilizer for the plants.”

“Lessening the carbon footprint?” the blonde brings it up again, and this earns a hearty chuckle from Namjoon.

“We could put it like that. You contribute to nutrient cycling.”

“That’s a nice way of describing rotten flesh being eaten by worms.” He turns towards the expanse of the ocean with his eyes closed and that constant smile that seems to hold him together throughout this night. “I….visualize dying as a new birth, a chance of being someone again, a reincarnation. Even if I live as a butterfly with gray wings, a disowned black cat because of superstition, a whale with an alien frequency, a deer hunted in the open season, I’ll welcome it because it gives me another day, another life. It gives me another chance to feel the cold air on my face, the hot flush on my nose and ears, the water between my toes. Another chance to meet people, another chance to fall in love and break and fall all over again, another chance to live.”

The whole monologue untethers Namjoon. It is as if the sand underneath him started shifting.

The blonde turns his attention on the sky, stars invisible behind the fluffy clouds which signal incoming rain. As he silently watches them move across the space, Namjoon follows the change in his expression, the surrender of the smile, and the explosion of dullness in his irises.

“I have a tumor in my brain. Cancer has progressed too far and too deep to consider chemotherapy. Doctor gave me three months at most.”

Namjoon feels like he needs the vomit bag more. He’s tongue tied and numb all over. He feels cold all over, but he doesn’t know if he should blame the season. All the sounds are drowned by a ringing in his head, and he barely hears the blonde come up to him and tap his shoulder with his smile back again.

“I want to go home now. Thank you for driving me tonight.”

---

Now in the safe enclave of his apartment with a fully charged phone, Namjoon composes a long message intended for Jin, his apologies running all the way back since college. An apology for not responding to his confession, an apology for running away, an apology for coming back and expecting everything is the same.

And an ultimatum of a definite conclusion – whether he can let him in or cut him off from his life – because he has spent a long time living in between.

The breakdown comes after he hits send, choking sobs hitched in his throat. A mourning for a blonde stranger.

---

“Have a taste of this.” A grandmother in her 90s offers a peeled tangerine to Namjoon.

He bites through the piece of fruit and the sweetness hits him in full. He relishes the burst of flavor in his mouth with his eyes closed albeit it’s actually a ruse to keep the flood of tears at bay. You were right, they’re the sweetest tangerines. “I think I’ll order a hundred kilos.”

“That’s too much, my son.” The old woman laughs and playfully slaps him on the arm. “So how did you find your orchard tour a while ago?”

“I can’t help but hear a songbird in the area. Must be coming from the nearby forest.”

“Ah, it started singing last year. Since then, we’ve always had a year-round harvest. He must be my lucky charm.”

[watarigarasu]

October 20th – Haunted Building

13 Days of Spooky Writing Event

Pairing: Tauriel x Reader

Word count: 1,914

Warnings: None

Author’s note: I have literally no idea what happened here, this story practically wrote itself. :) Also, it takes place in modern setting!

You could still recall the excitement flowing through your veins like a molten gold, the sweet buzzing in your heart and the warm squeeze in your stomach when you finally heard the words you were dreaming about for so long now. It was hard to comprehend that they were not part of your wild imagination, nor another made up scenario you created in your head right before falling asleep—those were actually real. Her offer was honest and it was no kind of joke, you did not misunderstand anything from the very direct and simple invitation, it was no mistake.

Tauriel truly asked you to join her in the amusement park next Tuesday.

However, right when the very first wave of bliss eventually faded away, you started to worry and as the time passed, the anxiety growing in your mind seemed to expand, almost completely blinding the previous joy. Countless questions piled, one more ridiculous than another but every single one of them occupying your thoughts for longer than you would want it to. It was enough to be stressed about meeting with the prettiest, the most talented and charismatic girl in your university—or so you considered her—worrying about any other, more or less possible scenario happening during that day was unnecessary for your already cluttered head.

What if she did not mean only you two, but some of her other friends also? There were always people surrounding her, two particularly handsome and apparently polar opposite boys accompanying her more often than the others. What if it was supposed to be simply a group meeting? What if you would make a fool of yourself one way or another? And most importantly, what if she did not see you the same way you saw her?

You barely managed to fall asleep for the whole hour at least during the night before, now nowhere near excited but rather scared of what was coming up. It was either the best opportunity to finally start talking to her about something less trivial or to prove her that you were not worth her time. Your worry increased as the inevitable hour was getting closer and closer and it peaked when you were standing at the amusement park’s main gate.

Although the afternoon was chilly, there was a lot of people on the carousels, buying deliciously smelling snacks and running from one attraction to another in a hurry. The sky became dark some time ago but it only made all the decorations and lanterns light more brightly, the variety of sounds and colours surrounding you from every direction. Fallen leaves rustled on the wind, the trees reached their branches up like a shadowy claws of some nightmare creatures and the overwhelming aura of upcoming Halloween was visible in every single corner of the fair.

Still, all you could think of was her. What are you going to talk about? Will Legolas be there, too? Perhaps you should eat something before going out, your stomach was starting to grumble but the stress prevented you from eating anything quite successfully. You were present few minutes ahead of time (speaking of making a good first impression) and you felt like waiting for her will be the worst part of it all. Once you start to talk, things should go smooth from that point.

Right…?

“There you are!” Tauriel’s voice cut through the cacophony of mechanical melodies, children’s giggling and screams of those who dared to try the hammer ride, and it was both the most breath-taking and frightening moment of your life. Slowly, you spun around to face her and saw the gentle smile on her sharp features. “I started to worry you won’t come.”

Quick peek over her shoulder proved you that she had no company this time. Just you and her.

“Why shouldn’t I?” You sighed with relief after your recent discovery. “I told you I’ll be here. Besides, I’d let you know beforehand if something happened.”

“I’m glad it didn’t then.” She looked at the booth you were standing next to and eyed the spooky themed candies before continuing. “Should we head to the main attraction of the day or do you want to buy something?”

Even though you liked the bat-shaped lollipop, you have forgotten about it already and agreed to go with her. The screams of those stuck on the rollercoaster did not create the most romantic mood but all you could think of was how picturesque her long hair looked in this peculiar scenery, ginger colour fitting her green blouse perfectly.

You wondered how would it feel to run your fingers through them.

The house of mirrors was an excellent choice for the first attraction to attend to, and you were proud that it was your idea to try it out. It was not as extreme as some rides and you had an opportunity to hear Tauriel laugh out loud, which happened to be yet another of her many advantages—her voice so carefree and fresh like a spring morning. Or maybe, you were simply growing too poetical around her.

“The labyrinth was fun,” she stated once you were out of the hall. “But I have to admit I lost the tracks at some point.”

“And why didn’t you tell me so? I told you I can find a way out just fine.”

“I didn’t want to ruin the great first impression. Plus, I was supposed to be the guide, right?” She winked at you.

“Next time I’m going to be the guide. No getting lost and certainly no mirrors which make your face look like a smashed potato.”

Tauriel chuckled and agreed with your words.

“Certainly. But you have to admit, the one which made us really tall was interesting. I suppose I could get used to being that tall.”

“It would suit you well,” you nodded and felt the next sentence leave past your lips before you managed to stop it. “And your adorable pointy ears.”

Tauriel suddenly stood still and reached her ears with the hands, replying to you before the wave of embarrassment managed to drown you completely:

“Do you really think they’re pointy?” She touched the tips, her expression unreadable.

Vaguely gesturing, you tried to desperately think of an answer which would not discredit you in her eyes.

“I think they’re pretty. A little bit pointy, yes, but I always thought it gives you this mystical look. Like an elf or something...” With every next word, your tone was becoming quieter, until you finished your sentence with a forced smile, hoping that you managed to convince her that you meant no harm.

For a moment, she did not answer you, instead tilting her head to the side and then lightening up, before saying:

“Well then, thank you for the compliment. Still, I believe they’re not even partly as ravishing as your eyes, my dear.”

Contrary to the previous idea, the one Tauriel came up with appeared as more concerning in your opinion. It was not the matter of being scared per se, but rather the possibility of doing something reckless in front of her. You wanted her to like you, to think of you as no less interesting than all the boys she was surrounded with, and even though you knew that you cared about her opinion way more than you should, it was impossible to stop. Not now, when your repressed feelings were finally finding a way out. It could be the only one opportunity to impress her and you were certainly not going to waste it on anxiety.

Or so you thought.

“It’s a really, really bad idea,” you whispered after crossing yet another corridor in the haunted house. “I don’t like it at all, it’s way too quiet.”

“It can only mean one thing,” Tauriel pointed out matter-of-factly. “Soon we’ll witness something spooky.”

Holding your breath, you did your best to not let the heart jump out of your ribcage. You were as close to Tauriel as possible, naturally, keeping in mind to not cross the line of her personal space. As much as you wanted to hold her hand, you were not sure if she would approve it. The corridor, on the other hand, seemed to be endless, decorated in fake webs, some splattered blood and other remotely disturbing decorations, none of which jumped on you all of a sudden.

The booth with candies was much more entertaining but right now there was no coming back, nor time to complain.

Tauriel stopped abruptly and placed a finger to her lips, only then pointing at the closed door you reached to. There was no way it was going to be simply a part of decorations, you admitted bitterly, surely you were being watched and had to experience a pitiful attempt to frighten you based on primal, human instincts and yet—

You did not expect for the hairy monster to jump at you so suddenly but even less did you expect Tauriel to grab your hand, shield you with her body and pull you after herself further into the corridor. From the perspective of running, all the stuffed creatures were not as scary as they could be if you paid the whole attention to them and even if you did, Tauriel’s fingers closed on your wrist were enough to make you focus on something completely, completely different.

She was holding your hand, Tauriel was holding your cold, clammy hand as you both ran through the haunted house, avoiding the jump scares and traps and laughing so hard that your stomach started to hurt. Maybe it was the nerves which made you act so ridiculously or maybe in that moment you were ironically the happiest person on the whole planet, when nothing but you two mattered—you, your connected hands and the silly run through the corridor full of plastic figures and eerie sounds.

No kind of love tunnel could bring as much adoration from you as the haunted house on that windy, autumn afternoon.

When you finally managed to find a way out, you noticed how Tauriel’s cheeks were slightly redden from the effort and emotions but the smile on her face still lasted and the spark of joy present in her gaze as she looked at you.

“Are you alright?” she asked and let go of your hand, muttering. “Sorry for your sleeve.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Yeah, I’m fine. But I suppose I’ve had enough for one day.”

“And for the rest of my life, too,” she admitted and noticing your puzzled expression, quickly added. “I’m not really fond of those places, you know. But I can’t say this idea wasn’t successful.”

“What do you mean?”

“Playing your knight in shining armour against that bear-like-whatever was quite entertaining.”

This time you were more than sure that she winked at you, there was no mistake, her playful expression proved that well.

“Oh…” you were speechless. “Well then, I like the sound of that.”

“Good, because next time I’m going to use my marvellous skills with a bow and arrow to slay the dragon. But first, what would my princess say for a cup of mulled wine?”

You allowed her fingers to meet yours in a delicate grasp, when you slowly headed back to the food booths, all the anxiety leaving you as soon as you felt the cold air on your skin and Tauriel’s hand upon yours once again.

“She’d like that,” you nodded. “Very much so.”

[hydra-collector]

worthless

AO3

Pairings: Loceit

Characters: Logan Sanders, Janus Sanders, Roman Sanders (mentioned)

TW: cursing, self-deprecation

Words: 2088

Summary: Logan is overworking himself to very unhealthy amounts. Janus steps in to help.

Note: Sorry for the awful name. I had to come up with something.

You don't deserve emotions.

Logan was like most other college students. Overworked, tired, and bored. He always made sure he had work to do. He figured if he failed something big at some point, he'd have extra credit to fall back on.

And he was tired.

He was crying at the moment. He'd just finished yet another assignment and had three more he had to finish today. He'd asked for them. This was his fault, there was no one to blame but himself he knew he had no reason to cry; he'd asked for this. He didn't deserve to cry. He'd discovered he was unable to avoid the fact that he had emotions, but he didn't deserve them.

Or maybe he did. Maybe it was selfish to wish to never feel because he'd never have to cry. To spend every day exhausted and miserable. Yet, maybe it was fair because he knew he didn't deserve happiness. Maybe it was just the sadness he deserved.

His boyfriend and friends had tried to convince him to stop torturing himself. It wasn't torture, it was insurance. In case he fucked up like he always does at some point. It was worth a good grade.

He wanted this.

He was going to come out of this smart. He’d come out of every step of his education smarter. He needed to. If he wasn’t intelligent, gifted, praised, who was he?

Nothing.

Should it have been music? Was it intelligent enough?

He asked himself every day if he made the right choice. Music was an art, more in Roman’s vein of interests. Yet, he’d fallen in love with classical music. Was there something wrong with him? Should he be pursuing a science? Trying to discover more about Earth’s wonders?

He picked up his cello.

It was selfish, but he needed to distract himself. He was too lazy to finish his work, despite only having four hours to do so. After he did finish them, he’d probably be up until at least 3AM working on everything due tomorrow. He wanted a break.

It doesn’t matter what you want. It matters what needs to get done. You have to finish, or you’re worthless.

He sighed and put his cello back. That little voice was right, although he was pretty sure he was already worthless. He said he’d finish them at least an hour before the deadline, but look what happened. He’d need at least an hour for the first assignment, two or possibly longer for the second, and an hour or so for the third.

And it had to be perfect.

It was doable. He could get everything right and perfect, he could make all of his work his best work in four hours if he was good enough. It was never perfect, but it could be. It should be. He just wasn’t trying hard enough.

Coffee. He needed coffee.

He would’ve stretched if he thought about his well-being anymore. He left his dorm for a moment to make some coffee in the communal machine and have a bowl of yogurt, which was probably his third bowl today and the only thing he ate at this point.

“Logan, love. You look tired.”

“I’m fine, Janus. I can’t talk long, I have to get on this assignment.”

“How many assignments have you done today?”

He wrapped his arms around Logan’s torso from behind, kissing his cheek in the process. Logan wriggled out of his grip, spooning the rest of the yogurt in his mouth.

“You don’t eat it with Crofters’ anymore. I’m concerned.”

“Too expensive.”

“I’m buying you some tomorrow.”

Logan poured his coffee into a mug Janus had gotten for him, adorned with a bowtie and fez (although his boyfriend wasn’t sure he even remembered what Doctor it was referencing anymore). He waved his hand in a goodbye as he headed back in the direction of his room, (without kissing his boyfriend, Janus noticed) coffee in hand.

“I’d rather work alone, Janus.”

He followed Logan anyway.

When Logan got back to his room, he went straight to his desk. He’d wasted enough time already. His head hurt, but he didn’t have any pain medicine. He was tired, just trying to keep his eyes open at this point. He was hungry, yogurt was not an adequate dinner. And he was exhausted. Not just from the lack of sleep and the normal kind of tired, but the kind of tired that comes from devoting all of your worth to something. Telling yourself it defines your usefulness, your worth, your meaning to other people. He’d keep working through it. He was never going to admit that to himself.

He didn’t deserve to acknowledge how he felt. He didn’t deserve to smile at things, for people to care about his pain. He didn’t deserve to get angry. It was always his fault. If he could keep working, maybe it could at least be his doing that he got a good grade.

 Stop debating your emotions and do your work. You worthless bitch.

 Worthless.

 Worthless.

 Worthless.

Something on his lap blocked his vision of the screen where he’d apparently been writing that word for a few moments. He wanted to see it again because it was true. A pair of lips- Janus’s- kissed him as his glasses were removed as well. He pushed his boyfriend’s face away, despite how much he wanted to kiss him.

“Janus, let me work.”

He instead dragged Logan’s rolly chair over to his bed and heaved him out of it. He squirmed, attempting to get free, but he’d already set him down and laid horizontally over his torso.

“Mandatory cuddle time. I don’t make the rules.”

“You’ve never followed a rule in your life, Janus.”

“But you have.”

Logan again tried to get up to leave, but his boyfriend only dispersed more of his weight over Logan’s chest, grabbing his neck and kissing him again. Logan gave up and hugged him back.

“Can I get back to work now?”

“Not as long as you think you’re worthless.”

 He saw that?

“I won’t be if I can just finish my work.”

“You’re setting your expectations too high for yourself. You don’t have to be productive to be worth something. In my opinion, you’re already worth more than the entire Earth.”

“That’s not- I’m not worth more than 8 billion people and almost 200 million miles.”

“You are to me. Cuddle time.”

“Okay, okay, maybe I’m not worthless-”

 You are.

“-but I told my professors I was going to get these assignments done. I can’t go back on that.”

“They’ll understand. They like me. I’ll tell them my boyfriend needs a break from all the work he’s been getting. Anyway, aren’t your grades already over 100% in at least two classes? They know you work too hard. And if they don’t believe me, I can get them… replaced.”

“No murder, Janus.”

“Does that mean you’ll keep cuddling with me?”

“At least let me do one-”

Janus kissed him, grabbing his face in the process.

“Sounds like a yes. Now shall we confront your problems with self-worth?”

“I don’t have problems with self-worth, I just recognize that I need to get my work done-”

“You think you’re defined by the work that you do. I know a liar when I see one, dear.”

“Do you want me to get all emotional and spill out my repressed feelings? Because I really don’t need any help with them, they don’t mean anything anyway. Kinda disa-”

He paused when he realized he was doing exactly that.

“That’s exactly what I want you to do. Why are you disappointed?”

He closed his eyes as Janus let go of him and brushed his hair out of his face. “No reason.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“I won’t kiss you unless you tell me.”

“Convenient, I won’t be plagued with more emotions than I already have.”

“I will kiss you until you tell me.”

Janus started attacking his face with kisses from the forehead down. He kissed his cheeks that had started blushing and his nose that he tried to turn away. He’d successfully rendered him helpless.

Almost.

Logan kissed him back in retaliation, grabbing his face instead so he couldn’t recklessly smooch anymore. He held his lips long, hoping it was enough to subdue Janus’s kisses for a while.

“I’d still like to hear about your emotions, L.”

“They don’t matter though.”

“We’re getting somewhere.”

“I only have two and a half hours left.”

“Please, Logan. I’m worried about you. Ignore your work. Focus on you. I can get you some ice cream to cope.”

“One, ice cream is very unhealthy, and two, I don’t have any reason to need to cope.”

Janus crawled off of Logan to grab his laptop, then came back to sit next to his boyfriend. He didn’t need to say anything, the screen said it all.

 worthless worhtles worhtles worthsles wothslss worthles worthlsess worhtless worhtlsss worhless worthless worhtlwss worhtlwss worhless worthless wothl

“You only stopped typing cause I sat on your lap.”

“I, I… wasn’t talking about myself.”

Janus deleted the paragraph and saved his document, closing the computer and setting it aside. He brushed Logan’s face gently.

“You’re crying Logan. I think you were.”

“I’m- I’m sorry, I- God I should stop crying.”

“Why?”

“I don’t deserve for people to care about me, I don’t deserve to show emotion. I don’t deserve anything but-”

He stopped himself from continuing.

“You do deserve that. And it’s okay to talk about how you feel. You can go ahead, I’ll listen.”

“I don’t deserve it, I don’t need it, I don’t w-”

He broke down.

The few tears turned into sobs. His back ached from sitting for so long, he was hungry and tired, so tired. Janus slid down from his sitting position to lay next to Logan and hold him. God, did he want to be held.

“I do want it. I want to tell you what I feel like but it’s so hard and- even I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to understand. I just want to help you, love.”

Logan took a deep breath. He gazed at Janus for a moment, then turned his head towards the ceiling instead.

“I think… I hate myself.”

“I hate myself,” he repeated.

“I hate myself, Janus.”

Janus pulled him close to his chest where Logan could bury his head in his boyfriend’s neck.

“I think that must be why I’m not satisfied with what I do. I’m not satisfied with myself, so I try to make my work perfect because I think that’ll make me perfect.”

“You don’t have to be perfect. No one is.”

“I’ve always been perfect. I can’t fuck up. I have to be able to work like a machine. I wish I was a machine, a robot, anything but human. Emotions- they get in the way. I need to be able to work. It’s all I’m good for-”

Janus took Logan’s hand with one of his own and turned his head with the other so he was looking at him.

“No. You’re you and that’s okay. You do what you can, what you want. And if what you want is to work and work and work, do that. But I don't think you want this.”

“But- it’s all I know.”

“...When, when you’re working this hard, all of the time, you start hurting yourself with it. And you’ve gotten to the point where you’re destroying yourself. You’re saying that living like this is what makes you you, but what I see is you… fading away. I miss you. You’ve become your work, but it doesn’t have to be that way. You haven’t had free time once this week. You’re hurting yourself. So much that you’re losing yourself.”

“I’m- am I hurting you? Am I fading away and hurting you?”

“Logan, I’m not who’s important here. You need to take care of yourself. You need to unlearn that you don’t matter outside of your work. You fading away is hurting you so badly, and yes, I hate seeing you so miserable, but you’re the one that’s hurting. I love you. I want you to be okay and happy. To do that, I want to help you break this awful mindset. You can be okay. You’re going to be.”

“How?”

“I’ll be there to help you learn. But first, we need to e-mail your professors to get rid of all this extra work.”

“I told them-”

“No. No extra credit.”

[aerialflight]

Fic Recs

I haven’t done this in a while, recommending fics. But there were some fics these past couple of months that put a smile on my face, so I want to spread that joy to others. Seriously, they’re so good and I want to shove all these recs at people and have them appreciate them as much as I do. Everyone stay safe and I hope these recs make staying home easier for everyone!

-

[Fullmetal Alchemist]

maestoso by novalotypo

Edward Elric is about eleven when he stands up, makes an extended effort to knock as many books off the old bastard’s shelves as he can, and says, “Fuck the military. Al, you interested in music at all?”

Everybody's got their own ideas of retirement.

The Elrics don't even do retirement, what with the world trying to blow itself up every other month, but this shit has got to take the fucking cake.

(You want a fic that’ll make you cry tears of uncontrollable laughter? I point you to this fic. The shenanigans, the fact this is a time travel fic, the fucking headaches the Elrics cause, the I-Have-No-Fucks-To-Give attitude. Legend.)

-

[The Magnus Archives]

we raise it up by savrenim

Jonathan Sims reads a book and saves the world; although maybe the real salvation is the friends he makes along the way.

OR: in which Jon is not the only Archival monster for very long, Sasha James is competent, Tim Stoker finds some catharsis, Helen Richardson is sexy, Melanie makes a very successful youtube channel revamp, and Martin Blackwood gets to brew a lot of new friends tea.

(This is literally the most creative, fucking inspired tma fic I’ve ever read. You literally will never be able to guess what happens next and it’s just so much fun.)(Kinda Time Travel, you’ll understand what I mean if you read it, it’s so well done and amazing.)(The characterization for Sasha makes me want to weep, I’ve never seen her characterized this way before and it makes SO MUCH SENSE.)(@savrenim you are a QUEEN and you inspire me to be a better writer.)

-

[Marvel]

Crash Landing by Nyxelestia

"You could've left me there," Adrian murmured, jerking his head back towards the burning beach in the distance. "For Stark and his DODC people to find me. Liz and Doris' lives would've actually fallen apart with my arrest, and all my work to take care of them would've gone to waste. You could've just left me there...but you didn't. So I'll make you another deal."

Peter clenched his hands, fists shaking hard. "I'm giving you a second chance - but if you go back to what you were doing...I can't make any promises."

"It would be stupid of me to expect you to, after all this," Adrian said. He looked at Peter, at the hints of bruises and all the blood. He had trouble reconciling this fragile-looking kid with the superhuman who's been destroying his business, his daughter's homecoming date with the boy he'd nearly killed. "That's not my deal. My deal is, we both walk away, and neither of us say a word about any of this to Liz. Anything else - we'll cross those bridges as we come to them."

Swallowing, the boy nodded.

Instead of gift-wrapping the Vulture for Happy to find, Peter lets Mr. Toomes go.

(Honestly, I’m disappointed in the fact there’s not many Vulture-centric fics out there. This was so great and Peter was wonderfully characterized here along with Ned.)(I have a deep craving now for more Adrian Toomes fics and I blame this fic for that. I don’t regret it one bit.)

-

[The Witcher]

all some children do is work by some_stars

It's two children, he realizes as they slowly sit up. They look about eight or nine, not that he's much judge of children's ages. One is a girl, dark-haired, in a shabby dress. The other is a boy. His clothes aren't much better, and his hair isn't much lighter than the girl's, but his eyes—

His eyes, Jaskier realizes with a distant sense of horror, are gold like a cat's. His mind makes one more valiant effort to keep from connecting the obvious dots and recognizing them, and then it finally does.

"How in the unholy fuck," Jaskier says to no one, "did this shit happen?"

(So sweet it’ll give you cavities. Break your own heart reading this, I dare you.)

of music and motion and love by WriteThroughTheNight

When Jaskier was four, he slipped his mother’s watch and went to the field to gather a bouquet of dandelions. He climbed back into the yard, as stealthy as a child really cared to be, and crept over to the barn. In the barn, lived a secret. (The man he thought his father said the secret was a monster, a plague. His mother said the secret was his sister.)

OR

Jaskier comes from a far humbler background, and would really like to know why Yennefer never came back for her youngest brother.

(YENNEFER AND JASKIER AS SIBLINGS ENOUGH SAID. FIENOWPAFE)

to render it transparent by theundiagnosable

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

(Where Geralt wakes up in the future and Jaskier and Geralt live at the Coast.)(They are Disasters. What else is new.)(Everything’s lovely and emotionally repressed.)

-

[Game of Thrones]

if I give you my heart, will you promise not to break it? by janie_tangerine

Ship: Brienne/Jaime

“It’s not broken,” she protests.

“Please,” Ronnet goes on, “it’s all red. Red hearts like that are broken and their owners are either useless or more effort than they’re worth. ‘Course you would get a broken one, who else would want you?”

“It’s not,” Brienne hisses, and at that he stops talking. She realizes her voice had turned cold. Very cold. A coldness that doesn’t belong to her, she’s never sounded like that, but it seems to come from the pulsing warmth in her hands, again - “and the day I find him you’ll see he’s not broken or damaged or unworthy. And I sure as the seven hells hope no one got saddled with yours.

in which soulmates find each other through one of them having the other's heart.

or, in which Brienne gets a mostly broken one the day Jaime Lannister kills Aerys Targaryen.

(So this is a series, just want to put that out there. And I read through all of them cause I just couldn’t do otherwise. Brienne is obviously the bravest, most noble, most amazing of course. And Jaime makes me want to punch a wall because feels.)(This soulmate idea is so creatively and well done, has become one of my favorite soulmate tropes.)(There are a lot of interesting pairings in this series and the way the author went about the relationships and this expanding world has me giving all the yeses.)(Please read!!!)

-

[Gilmore Girls]

Weather Me by missgoalie75

Ship: Paris Geller/Jess Mariano

A year in the life of Paris and Jess.

(PARIS GELLER AND JESS MARIANO AT THEIR VERY BEST HOLY SHIT!!! I can hear their voices in every line, every thought, every damn interaction and I am so in love it's ridiculous. Paris in particular won me over, I have become incredibly fond of her and it's honestly brilliant! And Jess has a beautiful mind and I love him, I do. God, do I.)(missgoalie75 did it again.)

Living With It by thesaltyavocado

Ship: Lindsay Lister/Jess Mariano

#Future Fic, #Post-Season/Series Finale, #So Your Ex is Now Your Step-Cousin, #And You're Dating Her Ex's Ex!, #A Step-by-Step Guide to Getting Over It

(There’s no summary, it’s a series, and I’m in LOVE. I am a sucker for really, really well done rare pairs, and this is the rarest of them all. Go for it. It’s beautiful.)(Also, the author is literally the BEST, the VERY BEST at making me want to ship people I never even thought of. They’re awesome.)(check out all their fics, I went on a spree and you should too.)

-

[The Hunger Games]

Speechless by thesaltyavocado

Ship: Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket

Effie was kind, she was warm, she offered comfort to anyone who needed it, microphones be damned. She had a reputation for generosity amongst the Victors that Haymitch hadn't paid any attention to, because he was so paranoid about showing his hand that he barely even said her name around other people, barely even acknowledged her existence. Everyone thought he hated her, Beetee had explained. Everyone knew the stories about how he'd made her cry in the sponsor's lounge at the opening of the 61st Games, how he'd blown up at Cecelia that time when she'd asked him to pass a message onto Effie for her. Is that why none of you assholes ever liked me? Haymitch had asked. No, we didn't like you because you were a prick, Beetee told him, which was fair enough.

(The best, and I mean the best fic I’ve ever read regarding this pairing. Nothing is ever going to top this. Nothing.)(The WORLDBUILDING. FUCK.)(Literally everyone is perfectly characterized in new, heartbreaking ways and I just, fuck. Fuck.)(I don’t care if you’re not into the fandom, this will make you fall in love and see the characters with new eyes and it’s absolutely stellar.)(I want to cry.)(You don’t even have to be here for the ship, just be here for the writing, characterization, the WORLDBUILDING, fucking everything.)(Please.)(This fic NEEDS more love.)(I have fallen in love with Effie Trinket.)(This is my life now.)

-

[Harry Potter]

Walkabout by thesaltyavocado for teethandstars

Ship: Hermione Granger/Sirius Black

"You are always far too handsome for your own good," Hermione says, "in any timeline."

(The author strikes again when it comes to shipping people I don’t expect to love, yet here it is. Such an interesting fic where the time travel already happened and it’s the aftermath that the fic covers.)(Again, characterization off the fucking charts and I just want to wrap myself up in their words and live there.)(A story about broken people trying to find peace within themselves.)

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[Stranger Things]

and you hunger for the time by missgoalie75

Ship: Steve Harrington/Kali Prasad

after the battle of starcourt, steve figured the rest of the summer would involve not working, waiting for his busted ribs and face to heal, hanging out with robin and the party, and trying to ignore the panic he feels whenever he thinks about his future. All that does happen, but other unexpected things happen too.

(Bet you didn’t see this ship coming, did you? Neither did I, yet here we are.)(missgoalie75 is the gift that keeps on giving.)(But in all seriousness this is my favorite characterization of Steve, hands down.)(This fic needs more kudos and comments and basically all the love it deserves.)(God tier characterization and relationship development.)

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[Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas]

nfwmb by perennial

Ship: Eris/Proteus

The goddess of discord isn't careless enough to fall in love with a do-gooder mortal prince—unless, of course, she doesn't know it's happening.

(Okay, hear me out. I know it’s weird, I can feel the judgement coming from my screen. But I am weak in the face of rare pairings that actually work and the fact I fucking loved this movie ever since I was a kid, okay? So if anybody else loves this fandom as much as I do, stand up and take notice of this. I am here to tell you there are worthwhile fics to be read in this very, very small fandom.)

I'll keep turning down the hands that beckon me to come by deavors

Ship: Marina/Proteus/Sinbad

“Jealous?” Sinbad says, voice easily and casually mocking, but there’s something else under there, an undertone that speaks of so many things Marina isn’t even close to understanding.

“Extremely,” says Proteus, cracking a half-smile, but Marina feels like he’s not joking.

They stare at each other for a few moments. Marina’s gaze flickers between them. Sun and moon. She wishes—she doesn’t know what she wishes. Her heart is twisting again, but in a different way from before: as though it’s half-empty and longs to be full.

(You have no idea how in love I am with the idea of these three being in a poly relationship. No idea.)(I’ve been shipping all of them the moment I was introduced to the idea of polyamory relationships.)(This is THE poly ship for me.)(Nothing’s ever gonna come close. Nothing.)

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[Crossovers]

Trust Me, I'm an Alchemist by metisket

Fandoms: Yuri!!! on Ice, Fullmetal Alchemist

In which Yuri Plisetsky began life with the name Edward Elric, and this has made the world of figure skating a significantly stranger and more alarming place.

“Are you saying you lived a life of crime before you began skating?” “I’m gonna have to check the statute of limitations on a couple things and get back to you on that.”

(Meme Alien Edward, Ninja Alphonse who’ll smile at you as you Perish, Disaster Gay Victor, Disaster Gay Maniac Yuuri.)(If this isn’t incentive enough, the Elrics traumatizing and delighting social media with their Life Stories and their Life of Crime.)(Feral Elrics being Feral Elrics.)(It’s the kind of fic that gets better with every chapter, cause the shenanigans just keep ESCALATING.)

[exlibrisfangirl]

4, 17, 30?

Thank you so much, m’dear!

4, do you like your name?  is there another name you think would fit you better?

Not really, lol. I hate how common it is. My name was one of the top 5 baby names for girls the year I was born (in the 80s), so I grew up surrounded by other Melissas - there were 4 of us in my class alone - and we all had to go by nicknames (I got saddled with Mel... it’s a heck of a lot better than Missy, though) so everyone could distinguish between us. Two of the Melissas in the year below me actually even had the same last name. Good times, haha. I do like the meaning and etymology of my name (”honeybee” in Greek; “meli” is honey), but that’s about it. I also don’t like the way it’s pronounced in most of the U.S. (muhl-IH-ssuh). The only time I’ve ever really liked the sound of it is when my British friends say it - and when Joe Armstrong says it in Happy Valley (the way it’s pronounced in various British accents has such a lovely lilt to it) - or when Chris Argent says it in Teen Wolf (just because I like his voice). *unapologetic shrug*

Is there another name I think would fit me better? Maybe. I’ve been Mel for too long now to ever change it, though, I think.

17. would you say your tumblr is a fair representation of the “real you”?

To a pretty significant extent, yes. I feel like most of “the real me” is represented here - identity, personality, career field, struggles, interests, beliefs... although maybe not so much my faith or politics - even though I tend to cycle through hyperfixations (but even that, in and of itself, is an accurate representation of me). This is the only safe place I have to truly “let my freak flag fly”, so to speak, which means this is where I come to escape (hence the tendency to shy away from politics, etc.), fangirl, hyperfixate, engage in some shameless thirst-blogging, and interact with people who make me feel less alone in my passions and quirks. As someone who is neurodivergent, an introvert, an HSP/empath, and struggles with mental health, I often feel deeply repressed, misunderstood, and out of place in my everyday life, so this blog is something of a sanctuary where I can express myself in a way that feels freeing and genuine without fear of judgement (mostly). I don’t have to be restrained here; on tumblr, I can embrace my weirdness and entertain my thoughts and feelings in a way that is enjoyable and productive. My tags? A sneak peek into my uninhibited inner monologue. You’re welcome, lol.

30. pick one of your favorite quotes.

“The great thing about fantasy is that you can drag dreams and longings and hopes and fears and strivings out of your subconscious and call them 'magic' or 'dragons' or 'faeries' and get to know them better.” ~ Robin McKinley

Identity Ask...

[villainever]

Touch Them, Talk to Them: Villaneve & Nuance in Villanelle's Psychopathy (2x07)

okay there is SO much to say about 2x07, but none of you want to read 10k words of analysis, so im going to pick one topic and stick to it (for now). in this post, im going to talk about how this episode is – I believe – a response to: a) villanelle’s season 1 claim that what she wants is, among other things, “someone to watch movies with”, b) eve’s question, “you really don’t feel anything?”, and c) martin’s assertion that to psychopaths, there are only “i / it” relationships. i think aaron is a fantastic opposite/parallel to villanelle, because i believe that a great antagonist doesn’t just provide practical obstacles in the plot-path of the protagonist, but removes obstacles in their character-path. an example of what i meant by this is that in season 1, villanelle killed bill, killed frank, ruined evidence, impeded the investigation, and messed eve around (obstructing her plot-path). but she also drove eve to confront the (sociopathic) personality traits that she’d been repressing, and helped eve find her sense of purpose, confidence and power (smoothing her character-path). in season 2, however, villanelle has been shifted from an ~antagonist~ (ostensibly, as she doesn’t fully conform to this reductive role) to a protagonist, and aaron replaces her as the mysterious Other. just as we had with eve/villanelle, he is both Like and Not-Like villanelle. it’s the likeness that makes him an interesting (and dangerous) opponent for her, but it’s the not-likeness that’s so significant.

in 2x06, villanelle has her iconic “boredom” speech, and monologues about how nothing makes her feel anything. so at the start of 2x07, eve asks her if that’s all true – although it seemed authentic, it’s fair enough of eve to ask, considering how often and easily villanelle lies while playing her characters, and that villanelle prompts her (“you’ll feel better if you talk about it”). villanelle’s reply is that she doesn’t actually KNOW if she’s telling the truth or not. i don’t think she’s deflecting here; she appears subtly, but genuinely, torn. she DOESN’T know. 

she wants to give eve a real answer, but she can’t. this is probably the result of a whole lot of mixed information: she’s obviously been told she’s a psychopath (by lawyers and therapists and fellow prisoners and konstantin, then eve), and she knows she enjoys killing people, controlling them, and she is often bored, too, like she said, but none of those things feels like enough. so she offers eve the most she can give: “i feel things when i’m with you.” and while she definitely means this – we could’ve guessed it, considering the lengths she’ll go to to even end up in the same country as eve – she’s still conflicted.

so then, in the last quarter of 2x07, we get this scene between villanelle and aaron:

he describes them as “voids”, and villanelle doesn’t hesitate before agreeing. she’s a psychopath, right? she must be a void. she’s not “nice and normal”. she doesn’t mind stabbing or suffocating or toying with other people. between her and aaron, there’s this heartbeat of dissonant kinship. she’s already joked that they might be “soulmates”, so here, she’s just chatting with him. she’s certain they’re fundamentally the same, and there’s not much to be learned from this, so she’s mostly humouring him. so she asks something out of mild interest, but she thinks she already knows the answer.

“do you ever get lonely?” villanelle does. she finds being cooped up by herself to be tedious, and uses the time to prepare her next interactions – elaborately faking her death for konstantin; planning new presents or tricks or reminders for eve. importantly, in defiance of the “incapable of ‘i / you’ relationships” idea, she is able to apply this notion of isolation to eve. in 2x06, she tells konstantin she’s texting eve “because [eve] might be lonely”. sure, villanelle primarily wants to know how much of an impact she had by killing someone right in front of eve, but she’s not really lying; she can follow and understand the emotional process of “niko left - today’s been a high-stakes day - eve is alone - eve might want somebody to decompress with”. and she feels compelled to offer eve that, to make things better for her. but:

like i said, villanelle has been trying to reach out on the common ground she percieves them as having. she expects to relate to aaron in every way, because he’s a psychopath, too. except aaron goes on about how he knows so much about people, how he observes them. villanelle often does this as well – stalking eve in clothing stores back in season 1, googling her, watching through her windows, etc. but that’s not even near to enough of eve for villanelle, so her reaction is one of confusion. “you don’t want to talk to them? touch them? sleep with them?" 

"god, no.” aaron’s inflection is almost one of disgust, and definitely one of superiority. it’s like she’s asked him if he’s interested in hanging out with rocks. he can’t imagine having any involvement behind mild amusement at the opportunity to manipulate people, like toys. “do you?” he asks.

“yeah! i do. all the time.” it’s an immediate knee-jerk response, and though it’s soft, it’s emphatic. villanelle doesn’t doubt her answer. as the shot pans out, she gives a slight gasp, and almost smiles (mirroring that slight smile through her sobs in amsterdam). aaron remains impassive.

i believe that this exchange is maybe the MOST important of the episode, second only to eve/villanelle’s semi-sex scene. i also believe that it’s this conversation with aaron that leads villanelle to breaching that last unspoken barrier between her and eve. to be clear, i’m not trying to say villanelle isn’t a psychopath. one revelation does not fifty people un-kill. just a handful of hours before this moment, she murdered gemma with a plastic bag. so i’m not suggesting villanelle is just like any of us. she’s not, eve’s not, and we don’t want them to be. my point is that this moment clarifies a lot for villanelle. she’s been trying to figure out her own capacity for emotion and connection. one thing that she’s considered a fact about herself since before the pilot is that she “wants someone to watch movies with”. she expresses this desire to eve and konstantin with no hesitation; she’s sure, and this becomes a tacit premise in a lot of her reasoning over the whole show. i suspect villanelle doesn’t have any long-term understanding of what that really means, but she wants it anyway. she also plans most of her life around being able to get closer to eve, whether by teasing her or helping her or steering those in eve’s life to create the required conditions for a confrontation.

which is why aaron telling her he has NO need for human contact is such a big deal. because villanelle obviously DOES. she needs it, she wants it, she always has. anna, eve; villanelle develops romances that run deep – even though she’s no longer obsessed with anna by season 1, she still clearly feels a connection to her, and i don’t think she’d have killed her if anna hadn’t killed herself. then there’s konstantin, and she’s a little shit to him, but she definitely missed him, if the way she ran into his arms in 2x03 after being forced to put up with raymond for ten minutes is any indication. villanelle and konstantin have a rapport, and they trust each other (in that they both know each other well enough to guess when they might betray each other, and can account for it accordingly). essentially, until now, villanelle has been running with the equation “aaron = psychopath; me = psychopath; thus, aaron = me”. she’d assumed that part of psychopathy was just the level of human interest she has – which is why she doesn’t have an issue telling eve “like us, you mean”, even though eve has a long-term relationship and friends: that amount of involvement is still realistic for them, right? but aaron doesn’t have this need for people. so now, “aaron =/= me” for villanelle.

crucially, this interaction gives villanelle CONTEXT. rather than dealing in absolutes, she now has a spectrum of psychopathy: “aaron –> me –> eve –> carolyn –> konstantin –> etc.” aaron has inadvertently told her that what she feels is real. maybe she’d almost believed that, seeing as psychopaths can’t feel anything, can only have the “i / it”, that what she experienced was an infatuation or illusion (although this was shaken by eve stabbing her and by crying in amsterdam); but here’s aaron confirming that the idea of fascination with/caring for people has never even occurred to him. and it does NOTHING BUT occur to villanelle. eve runs circles around her head.

let’s look at that in practice. aaron’s most significant relationship is with his sister, who he treats like crap. he’s got her babysat, won’t listen to her opinions (“the grownups are talking, amber”), disrespects a friend she likes, calls her a “thickie”. then villanelle, the closest thing he has to a friend – he watches her without her consent, plays dress-up and stay-still like she’s a doll, tells her what she’s going to do (“spit it out”) and instructs her on how she should feel (“you’ll be bored”). but villanelle? her most important relationship is with eve. and sure, she makes really fucked up choices, but she also makes an effort to consider how eve might feel, what eve might want, what might appeal to her. AND, she’s IMPROVED at that. for example, in 1x03, she kills bill to get eve’s attention, but it’s at the price of hurting her. by 2x07, though, villanelle won’t kill niko. it’s mostly selfish – she doesn’t want eve to be mad at her – but if it were aaron, he’d try and force eve to be un-mad somehow, with money or threats, etc. (not that aaron would bother; he wouldn’t mind if she hated him) villanelle, though, she wants eve to ACTUALLY love her, not to HAVE to love her. villanelle is manipulative, obviously (e.g. telling niko that eve stabbed her to cause a rift between them), but she sees these indirect manipulations as a way to arrange things how she wants (it doesn’t really occur that there might be an alternative), and attempts to course-correct when eve sometimes gets upset. this is huge for villanelle. aaron gives her something NOBODY else can, by being like her, but less like her than she’d believed. the distinction between them might seem minute to viewers who have the full range of emotions/empathy, but for villanelle, that small difference means the world. it means her and eve are REAL, or real enough. martin said, “don’t add, take away”. but aaron proves that that can be true by degrees; villanelle is dotted with minuses, but fewer minuses than aaron. this is set up throughout the episode, kicked off thematically by eve’s question, but compounded by aaron’s consistent use of villanelle like a thing. THIS is an “i / it” dynamic. “stay there, exactly like that”. “wear this”. “these are your clothes now”. “we’re leaving”. “you’ll get ice-cream, and i’ll watch you eat it”. to him, villanelle is a totally disposable puppet. but over and over and over we’ve been shown that this ISN’T how villanelle perceives eve, and that’s definitely cemented in amsterdam, when villanelle breaks down over eve “forgetting” her. 

aaron, like villanelle, has up until this point mistaken them for exactly alike, but they’ve been miscommunicating all along. at lunch, villanelle said, “i dont like rich men” – meaning, i like women, specifically eve, and i have my own resources. aaron counters, “but you like money”. he’s misinterpreted, and thinks villanelle means, like him, that she never wants to have sex or talk with other humans. instead, he concludes that she likes the material object of money, and the subsequent ability to aquire items which might spark some kind of response – and this lines up with villanelle’s later remark about liking to buy and own things, which aaron recognises in himself. they’re replying to each other, but really, they’re having slightly different conversations. so what does this mean, overall? we’ve known forever that villanelle wants eve to be the person she “watches movies with”, but this conversation tells villanelle she could maybe be that person to eve, too. villanelle can “love” in her own unique way, can be present. and because eve’s stepping off the ledge and meeting her in the middle, neither of them will have to be anything other than who they actually are. and they can be who they actually are, together. this analysis got a lot more muddled than i wanted it to, because im a lil wine drunk after haning out with some friends, but i had Thoughts. i have many more Thoughts about the villaneve hookup, hugo, gemma’s death, why aaron is such a creepy villain, carolyn’s plans, etc. but i’ll leave it here for now. i hope this made some sense lmfao.