#and aside from that I’ve been very clearly struggling but it seems like no one is close enough to me to really grasp the seriousness

[merildae]

A hug would fix so many of my problems rn

[waltricia]

Regardless of whether anyone actually reads this, I need to show appreciation for the writing, blocking, and editing of the last scene of 3x03, “Forces of Nature.”

Recently, I noticed that the LW line “this author is captivated” was very specifically placed over a shot of Colin and I knew it was intentionally done to convey the double meaning of the narration being about her and him.

Since then, I’ve realized that the same thing is happening throughout that entire LW narration. And it is fucking BRILLIANT.

So, first of all, this is the transcript of the narration:

“This author believes that all of man’s greatest inventions are nothing more than a distraction from what is most natural to us. Our instincts. The innate animal impulse that is inside even the most sophisticated of us. For when all is said and done, our nature will always win out. It seems Lord Debling’s instinct has led this man of nature to the most surprising pick of the season in Miss Penelope Featherington. Suffice it to say, this author is captivated. For in the battle between man and nature, it is quite clear that the battle is in fact between man and himself.”

Now I’m going to break it down with captioned stills so that you can see which words line up with which frames and I’ll explain what I believe it all means.

“This author” - When it’s first said, it’s on Pen. The second time it’s on Colin. I think there are several meanings here. Firstly, she’s Whistledown and she’s published. He will be, assuming he publishes his travel journals or whatever. Secondly, I think it highlights how they will be united, in the Whistledown storyline along with everything else. There’s a third meaning, but I’m going to get back to it later, once we get to the second use of “this author.”

This is the Innovations Ball, so on the surface, LW is speaking about man-made technology versus the natural world. But with the introduction of “man,” the shot immediately cuts to Colin, so the second layer of the narration is about him. All of Colin’s invented personality traits are a cover, hiding his true self- his sensitivity and his feelings for Pen. Obviously, this echoes what she wrote about him in 3x01, but it’s different. The context is the same, but this time, she’s not speaking directly about him, and really, she may very well not be thinking about him at all in writing it. After all, she still doesn’t know about his feelings for her. But we know. And the feeling of what she’s saying this time is less jarring; more, fittingly, natural. Because he’s starting to confront all of it as well.

In this shot, Colin has been walking across the room to get to Pen. There were people on his right, obstructing his view of her, but as LW says “natural,” Colin passes those people and, though we cannot yet see Pen, we can tell from Colin’s face that he finally clearly can. She is what is most natural to him.

He comes up to her and says that he has a question for her. The narration starts again. But on this shot, it’s only the one word, “our.” Aside from this just being romantic, I think it highlights that the narration is about both of them. But I also think that it’s not just about them. It feels to me as if, metaphorically, it’s written by both of them. Hence, my emphasis on the importance of “this author.”

We cut to our first close-up of Colin in this particular intimate sequence of close-ups. And we’re really in his perspective now, as he’s struggling to manage his feelings.

Again, he had been masking, trying to be like the other “sophisticated” gentlemen.

But a shift is occurring within him.

And this where I really hope there is at least one other person out there paying attention because all of the elements are coming together to tell us something incredible here. We have our beloved Julie Andrews delivering the line with a profound heaviness. We have Kris Bowers’ “Call Me Simon” coming to a close, sounding like a clock striking midnight. And we have the decisive sentiment of the words themselves. I'm convinced that the words “done” and “win out” being said on Pen speak to the finality of Colin’s feelings. If there was uncertainty before, it is gone now and there is no turning back. He is in love with Pen.

But before Colin can say anything else, Debling steps in and takes Pen away to dance.

Side note: Amazingly, I can back up my theory with this shot and another one of my theories:

I had said, when the trailer came out, that when true red shows up behind Colin, that indicates his love for Pen. This is the first time we see that happen.

But anyway, back to Whistledown…

Debling is the literal “man of nature,” while Colin is the metaphoric “man of nature.” Both have picked Pen.

We’ve finally come to the second “this author” and here’s the third thing I wanted to say about it: Possibly my favorite thing about this sequence, is that it acts as a vehicle for the representation of the Polin role reversal. From one end of the Whistledown narration to the other, Pen and Colin literally and metaphorically switch places, seamlessly. They exchange their physical places in the room. She’s the wallflower, then he’s the wallflower. She’s the author, then he’s the author. In a metaphorical sense, they’re both writing this Whistledown piece. This whole sequence serves to show us how Colin and Pen have really been equal this whole time. They’re just star-crossed. It’s like what Luke has been saying in interviews, Colin and Pen keep missing each other. They have brief moments where they eclipse each other and then they slip right past until the next time they orbit around to each other again.

Ok, here’s the final stretch, and it is a fucking fascinating maneuver:

The battle isn’t between Colin and Debling. In fact, Debling doesn’t signify at all here. I’d say there are actually three other battles being referenced: Colin and himself, Pen and herself, and Colin and Pen. The first “man” of that sentence is said on Colin, while “nature” is said on Pen. So in the battle between Colin and Pen- for there is a battle, as Cressida will mention in 3x04 when she says “Eros and Psyche, battling it out”, and also there will be more blatant battling in part 2- the real battles Colin and Pen are facing are the ones within themselves.

Of course I’ve already written about Colin’s battle with himself.

The reference to Pen’s battle with herself is particularly interesting to me. At first, I didn’t see it and I didn’t understand why that bit of the narration was spoken over the Pen and Debling dance instead of over Colin. Then I realized that the second “man” of that sentence is said directly on top of this shot where, again, it’s not about Debling; it’s her face we’re seeing. Then, Debling spins her and the “himself” is on Pen too. And I know I’m right about this because the shot was in the trailer and I watched it so many times. And I noticed that Sam Phillips is very specifically looking away from the camera in this moment. I figured it was because we had to know that the moment was about her. And I was right.

Pen’s journey is her reconciliation with herself. Colin and Pen really have the same inner battles. They both need to drop their masks. That’s why the mirror scene is going to be so important- it’s about exposing and embracing the bare parts of both of them. They are already equal and united. They just need to see it.

Ok that’s it. I’m done. I got it out. And I literally can’t add any more images to this post. To anyone who will have read this fuckin novel I just wrote, thanks for sticking around. These ballroom sequences are particularly difficult for the cast and crew to do, and there is obviously so much complexity in this one, so I feel like it should all be acknowledged. Someone has to acknowledge it, and if that has to be me, I will gladly continue using up my Friday afternoons to do so.

To the cast and crew, to the captain of the season 3 ship, Jess Brownell, to the director, Andrew Ahn, and writer, Eli Wilson Pelton, to everyone’s favorite choreographer/movement director, Jack Murphy, to Luke, Nic, and Julie fuckin Andrews, I see you and I love you. Please keep doing what you’re doing. It’s all worth it. ♥️

[zuppizup]

Rayllum, 10 babies and Xadian family planning

I’m trying to post the next chapter of Dark Alternative, but AO3 is very wonky, so you’re going to be subjected to my rambling thoughts on my new WIP for Work in Progress Wednesday.

So, over my vacation, I’ve been plagued by post-season 7 fanfic ideas. Short fics, obviously. No more than three chapters, as usual.

What’s got me intrigued right now, is how the continent of Xadia, or at least, a select group of people, will manage with living with the knowledge that Aaravos, in some form, is coming back in seven years. How would that affect politics and society, as well as the individual characters and the choices they make knowing that?

The regular folks would struggle to miss that whole eternal darkness and dead creatures thing that happened, but what do they know about exactly what went down?

And what do they know about what’s to come?

You know me, I’m a Rayllum person, so pretty much any fic of mine is a Rayllum fic, and this current idea is focused on how this particular threat affects the next stage of their lives.

Without a doubt, when we last saw Rayllum they were totally committed to each other and are fully ride or die… but how would that devotion relate to their future, in particular, the subject of children?

Now, I’m an angster in my deep dark heart, so while I’m sure many people could conceive of a fic where Rayllum are secure in their ability to defeat Aaravos come round two, that ain’t where my brain was ever going to go.

Rayllum are in love and clearly want a future together. Callum was openly planning a quaint little one in the Silvergrove before they were rudely interrupted by the whole end of the world dealio.

So, where does that leave them now (in my angsty reality anyway)?

In their youth, they both leaned into their more paranoid natures (Rayla leaving without Callum in TTM and Callum getting physical with Soren in season 4), and while they’ve both grown and matured since then, would such a threat as the world ending be enough to bring that paranoia right on back?

Which leaves me with my current fic planning conundrum.

Assuming Rayllum decided to forego the whole having kids thing until Aaravos is imprisoned again, how likely is it that they could plan when to have a family.

I’ve seen people say that the world of The Dragon Prince is in a medieval setting, and so people had children younger then, which, aside from not being the entire story, doesn’t feel like it really applies to a world with magic and dragons, a world that lacks the sexism and gender roles that are also associated with medieval times or other more grounded works set then.

Additionally, looking at canon, I think it could be reasonably argued that some form of birth control is readily available in the setting. In fact, I think it’s likely multiple forms of birth control exist in the world of The Dragon Prince.

From humans to elves, we don’t see large families normally associated with the inability to plan a family via the use of effective birth control. The “largest” family we see are the Sunfire monarchs, with three children. Viren and Lissa had two children only. Sarai may well have had more children had she lived, but Rayla’s parents spent multiple years at the Storm Spire and she remained an only child.

I can’t imagine there’s much in the way of entertainment at the Storm Spire either. Sure, they could abstain or get creative, but oof, hasn’t enough been asked of them?

Even looking at prior generations, we do not see large families. Given the closeness in ages of the siblings we know of, it also seems unlikely to me that children were lost in childbirth or to childhood illnesses.

To me, it seems far more likely that family planning is active in Xadia and would be a tool Callum and Rayla could exercise.

Clearly, no birth control is infallible (or I guess it can be, magic and all) and I assume Miyana’s twins were unplanned.

Personally, I head canon Rayla herself was an oopsie baby in order to further explain the complications of her parents being called away to join the Dragon Guard.

Where am I going with this? I don’t even know anymore.

I suppose, to me, it’s not a foregone conclusion that in seven years Rayllum would have a kid (or indeed multiple). The setting of the world doesn’t imply that it’s particularly difficult to prevent pregnancy. In fact, the small families imply to me that family planning is a cultural norm among elves and humans.

Faced with the imminent threat of Aaravos’ return, would Rayllum plan to start a family? Certainly, people put off having children for far lesser reasons.

We also don’t know how using dark magic, even in that limited capacity, has affected Callum and the potential for him to get possessed again. It was clearly enough to physically mark him, but does that go deeper?

Would imprisoning Aaravos once again result in an inevitable possession?

Not great when Dad gets taken over and abandons the family.

Or worse, Mum has to take him out.

Angsty though!

As usual, I’ll be doing my own thing in my fics, but I’m interested to see where Arc 3 goes with this (optimistically assuming we get it). There are a lot of factors at play to explain why we might see a lot of the characters in a state of stasis. Seven years isn’t that long when you’re facing the world ending, after all. Particularly when you’re likely to play a very active part in trying to stop that returning apocalypse.

So, which way to go? I see the angst potential in both.

On one hand, you’ve got the pain and desperation of protecting your kid from a returned Aaravos, or perhaps worse, a possessed Dad.

But on the other, you’ve got two people who likely want to take the next steps in their lives, but feel the pressure of a ticking bomb haunting them and potentially preventing them from moving forward.

Either way, bring on the pain.

[estellan0vella]

My Very Own Speed Demon: K.S Kim Seungmin x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 15.5K

CW: Seungmin is bad at feelings, talks of a guy making reader uncomfortable with touching, Mechanic Student Seungmin, Hyunjin is a bit of an ass

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The sun sinks lower, painting Miroh College in golden hues as shadows stretch lazily across the almost-empty parking lot outside the engineering building. The faint hum of machinery fades into the evening air as Seungmin steps out, rolling his shoulders with a slight groan. His black shirt hangs open, the silver chain on his chest catching the light with every movement. He wipes his slightly greasy hands on a rag stuffed into his back pocket, his boots scuffing against the pavement as he heads toward his car.

But something halts him. A few rows down, parked like a relic from a cooler era, is a 1977 Datsun 280Z. The hood’s popped open, and standing in front of it is you.

You’re bent slightly over the engine, your phone in one hand as the other gestures vaguely toward something under the hood. A quiet sigh escapes you as you tilt your head, clearly deep in a YouTube tutorial. The sunlight plays off the chain belt draped around your waist, your layered necklaces, and the flutter of your blue maxi skirt. A loose strand of hair brushes against your face as you mumble softly to yourself, brows furrowed in concentration.

Seungmin slows, lips twitching into a barely restrained smirk. “Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath. You’re cute. And absolutely lost. Before he realizes it, his curiosity gets the better of him, and he strides toward you.

When he’s close enough to see the way you’re squinting at your phone like it holds the secrets of the universe, he clears his throat. “You’re looking at the wrong engine model.”

You jolt like you’ve been shocked, nearly dropping your phone as you whirl around. Your wide eyes meet his, and your voice comes out breathy, startled. “Shit, you scared me!”

Seungmin raises his hands in mock surrender, the silver rings on his fingers glinting. His smirk deepens. “Sorry, sorry. I just couldn’t help noticing you looked like you were fucking struggling.”

Your cheeks flush, but you huff out a laugh despite yourself. “Yeah, well. I don’t know jack shit about cars, so I’m improvising.” You gesture toward the duct tape crisscrossing random parts of the engine. “This seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Seungmin leans closer, eyebrows raised as he inspects the tape job. “Jesus Christ. That’s a lot of duct tape.”

“Duct tape works,” you insist, crossing your arms in a half-defensive, half-sheepish posture.

He straightens up, deadpan. “How’s it working for you right now?”

Your lips twitch, trying not to laugh. “Okay, point taken.”

He snorts, rolling up his sleeves as he steps closer to the car. “Mind if I take a look? Because this thing isn’t running without some proper help. And no offence, but I don’t think YouTube’s got you covered.”

You hesitate for a moment, then sigh, stepping aside. “Go ahead. I’d appreciate it. Just, please don’t tell me it’s completely fucked.”

He leans over the engine, peering into the mess of parts. “Probably just your spark plug. Maybe the alternator if you’re really unlucky. But this? This is salvageable.”

You lean against the side of the car, watching him as he works. The way his fingers move over the parts, quick and sure, makes you feel a little less panicked. “The grease on your face tells me you’ve done this before, so I have faith in you"

Seungmin glances at you, smirking. “You should probably raise the bar for what counts as a ‘professional mechanic.’ But yeah, I’ve worked on cars since I was a kid and I'm a mechanics student. You’re in decent hands.”

“Well, considering I almost called Hyunjin to come save me, you’re already a fucking upgrade,” you admit with a small laugh.

He freezes for a split second, looking up at you. “You know Hyunjin?”

“Yeah,” you say, tucking your phone into your bag. “We’re supposed to be working on this art history project together. He’s going to fucking kill me for being late.”

That earns you a quiet laugh as Seungmin wipes his hands on his rag. “You’re meeting him at the Alpha Phi house?”

You blink at him in surprise. “Wait, you’re in Alpha Phi?”

He shrugs, leaning casually against the car. “Yeah. I'm Seungmin. I live there with him and the other idiots.”

A grin tugs at your lips. “I'm Y/N and Hyunjin's mentioned you. Mostly just complains about you being soulless.”

Seungmin snorts. “Sounds about right.” He glances back at the engine, then at you. “Hate to break it to you, but this car isn’t going anywhere until you replace the spark plug. You’re fucked for tonight.”

You groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Of course I am. That’s just perfect.”

“Hey,” he says, his tone softening slightly. “I’m heading home anyway. Why don’t you let me give you a ride? It’s either that or you haul your ass across campus alone.”

You hesitate, biting your lip as you weigh your options. “Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you or anything.”

Seungmin tilts his head, his voice calm but teasing. “What kind of dick would I be if I let a pretty girl with good taste in cars walk all the way to campus alone?”

“The same kind of dick as most of the guys on this campus?”

He bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “Well, they’re all assholes. I’m not.”

That gets a real laugh out of you, and you push off the car. “Alright, fine. Let me grab my bag.”

As you fall into step beside him, he shoves his hands into his pockets, glancing at you sideways. “So, art history, huh? What’s the project?”

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s on Tudor art. Specifically how Anne Boleyn’s image was erased after her execution. Hyunjin’s handling the movement and symbolism stuff.”

Seungmin groans, rolling his eyes. “That tracks. Hyunjin loves overanalyzing the fuck out of everything. Half the time, I think he’s just making shit up to sound smart.”

You laugh softly, your steps matching his as the two of you head into the twilight.

The drive to the Alpha Phi house is unexpectedly comfortable, considering you’re riding with a guy you’ve known for all of ten minutes. Seungmin’s Honda Civic smells faintly of coffee and motor oil, and the faint hum of the engine is almost soothing as it cuts through the winding streets of Miroh College. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, curious about this sharp-tongued yet oddly chivalrous stranger. He’s relaxed, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rests on the gear shift, the silver rings on his fingers glinting in the muted streetlights.

Seungmin breaks the silence first, his voice dry but not unkind. “So, why a 280Z?”

You blink, his question catching you off guard. “What do you mean?”

He flicks his gaze toward you briefly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before his eyes return to the road. “It’s a cool car, sure. But let’s be honest—it’s a high-maintenance pain in the ass. And judging by your duct tape situation earlier, I wouldn’t peg you as the ‘engine whisperer’ type.”

You laugh softly, your fingers fiddling with the bracelets on your wrist. “Okay, fair enough. I’m not exactly a mechanic. But it was my dad’s car. He restored it when he was in college, and it’s been in the family ever since. It’s sentimental, you know?”

His smirk softens into something more genuine, and he nods. “Yeah. I get that.”

The car falls into a comfortable quiet again, broken only by the soft buzz of the engine and the occasional sound of tires crunching over the asphalt. The two of you fill the gaps in the silence with casual conversation. You complain about campus parking, and he counters with a running list of the best parking spots he’s commandeered over the years. 

He mentions a coffee shop near the library that’s cheap but “doesn’t taste like watered-down pretentious-cunt water,” and you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity. When you bring up how much you love late-night drives, his face lights up just slightly, and he shares how he used to drive aimlessly to clear his head when shit got overwhelming.

By the time he pulls up in front of the Alpha Phi house, its massive white columns glowing in the night like some over-the-top temple to chaos, you’re almost disappointed that the ride is over.

The house looms ahead, loud even from the outside. Someone’s yelling from the second-floor window, and you catch a glimpse of a guy leaning halfway out, waving his arms. “For fuck’s sake, Chan, shut up and come back in before you fall!” someone shouts from inside.

Seungmin just shakes his head, exhaling sharply as he pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine. “Every day, I wonder why the fuck I still live here,” he mutters under his breath, grabbing his keys.

You step out of the car and sling your bag over your shoulder, smoothing your skirt as he leads the way up the wide, creaky steps. The faint light from the porch lamp glints off the chain around his neck as he digs into his pocket for the keys.

“Hyunjin’s probably upstairs,” he says, unlocking the door with a practiced ease. “You’ll hear him before you see him.”

The door creaks open, and the chaos of the frat house spills out into the night. Inside, the space is somehow both clean and a complete disaster. The floors are clear of clutter, but the mismatched furniture in the living room is piled with discarded hoodies, random solo cups, and what looks suspiciously like a pair of boxers. A giant flat-screen TV blares some football highlight reel, and the faint smell of beer, sweat, and something burnt lingers in the air.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say quietly, taking a tentative step inside. The house feels like it’s pulsing with energy—voices shouting, footsteps pounding, someone laughing like a maniac in the kitchen.

Seungmin shrugs, brushing past you toward the noise. “No problem. Hyunjin’s room is upstairs, last door on the left. Just tell him I didn’t kill you or anything.”

You smile a little at that and nod, heading toward the stairs. The wooden steps creak under your Converse, and the sounds of the house get louder with each step. Behind one door, someone’s blasting music—something heavy and bass-driven. Behind another, you hear what sounds like a heated debate about the “existential meaning” of SpongeBob.

Finally, you reach the last door on the left. You knock softly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you wait.

“Come in!” Hyunjin’s voice booms out almost immediately, loud and theatrical as always.

You push the door open to find Hyunjin sprawled dramatically on his bed, his long limbs draped across the comforter like he’s auditioning for some avant-garde art piece. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips, and his golden hair is messy in a way that looks too good to be accidental.

“Took you fucking long enough,” he says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. “I was about to start working without you.” His eyes land on you, and then narrow slightly. “Wait—how the fuck did you even get here? Did you walk?”

“No,” you say, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. “Your friend Seungmin gave me a ride. My car decided to fuck me over in the middle of the engineering lot.”

At the mention of Seungmin, Hyunjin groans, flopping back onto his bed like the mere thought of his frat brother is exhausting. “Of course he did. Bet he was an absolute cunt about it too, wasn’t he?”

You laugh softly, setting your bag down on the chair near his desk. “He was actually pretty nice. Surprisingly helpful, considering the duct tape situation.”

Hyunjin snorts, propping himself up on his elbows. “That asshole’s full of surprises. Don’t get used to it, though. He’s usually too busy being a sarcastic dick to help anyone.”

You smile faintly, settling into the chair and pulling out your notes. “He’s not that bad.”

“Trust me,” Hyunjin says, grabbing a notebook from the floor and flipping it open. “You haven’t known him long enough yet. Give it time.”

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, the chaos of the house fading into the background as you dive into your project.

Seungmin steps into the kitchen, popping the tab on a cold beer before leaning against the counter. The sound of the aluminium can hissing open is barely audible over the general buzz of conversation. He takes a long, quiet swig, hoping for just a moment of peace. But when he lowers the can, he immediately notices it. Six pairs of eyes fixed on him like vultures circling a fresh carcass.

Minho, Felix, Jeongin, Changbin, Jisung, and Chan sit scattered around the dining table, their expressions ranging from smirking amusement to outright glee.

“So,” Chan starts, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms like he’s conducting some kind of frat house tribunal. “She was cute.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, playing dumb. “Who?”

“You fucking heard me,” Chan replies, his smirk widening. “The girl. The one who came in your car.”

Minho snickers, lazily spinning a pen between his fingers. “Yeah, I saw her. Very your type. You into hippies now?”

Felix immediately elbows Minho in the ribs, his voice sharp with mock outrage. “Shut the fuck up, Minho. She wasn’t a hippie; she was hot.”

Seungmin groans, tipping his head back and muttering to the ceiling like it might spare him. “Here we fucking go.”

“You don’t just offer a girl a ride unless there’s something there,” Jeongin cuts in, his grin pure mischief as he leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.

Seungmin shoots him a glare. “Her car was busted, and it was getting dark. What was I supposed to do, leave her there to get mugged or some shit?”

Jisung raises a hand like he’s in class, his grin borderline feral. “Counterpoint: You’re totally the guy who lets people fend for themselves because you’re too busy being a soulless bastard”

Changbin chuckles, lifting his can in a mock toast. “Be honest. You didn’t give her a ride because you’re a nice guy. You did it because she’s hot, right?”

Seungmin takes a slow, deliberate sip of his beer, his patience thinning with every word. When he sets it down, he exhales sharply. “From an objective standpoint, sure. She’s, objectively speaking, good-looking. I can admit that.”

“‘Objectively,’” Jisung parrots, squinting at him. “Why the fuck do you keep saying it like that?”

Jeongin smirks, leaning forward with his chin resting on his palm. “Because our boy here doesn’t know how to handle the fact that he just lived a fucking meet-cute.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes so hard he’s surprised they don’t pop out of his skull. “I don’t know her. I gave her a ride, that’s it. The end. Stop making this a fucking thing.”

“Yet,” Changbin drawls, grinning like he’s cracked the code. “You don’t know her yet. But you could.”

“This isn’t a fucking fanfiction,” Seungmin snaps, slamming his beer down on the counter hard enough to make the others laugh. “Alright? This is real life. She’s not some pixie dream girl who’s gonna change my fucking world or whatever.”

“Relax,” Jisung says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “We’re just saying it’s a possibility. You’ve got the whole oil-smeared, black-on-black, moody mechanic thing going for you. Girls eat that shit up.”

“Exactly,” Jeongin agrees, nodding sagely. “She’s probably already imagining you fixing her car shirtless in slow motion. Hell, I’m imagining it.”

“Fucking gross,” Seungmin deadpans, shaking his head as the table dissolves into laughter.

Chan raises an eyebrow, his voice mockingly serious. “You’re saying there’s no chance, none at all, that she might’ve been a little into you?”

Seungmin stares at him, his tone flat. “Zero. I’m the asshole who told her duct tape isn’t a real fix and then made her leave her car in the lot. Really romantic.”

“That’s your version,” Felix says with a grin. “Her version is probably all, ‘Oh my God, this sexy, grumpy mechanic saved me and then gave me a ride in his cool car.’”

“It’s a Honda Civic,” Seungmin mutters.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jisung replies. “You’re a walking Wattpad trope right now.”

Seungmin sighs heavily, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re all idiots. I helped her out because it was the right thing to do. That’s it.”

But as their teasing fades into background noise, Seungmin can’t help the way your face lingers in his mind. The way you’d smiled at him, soft and sweet, like you weren’t sure if you were supposed to but couldn’t help it anyway. The way you’d laughed when he’d called you out on your duct tape fix, not defensive, just genuine. And the way you’d looked so at ease in the passenger seat of his car, your hair catching the light from the streetlamps as you told him about your dad’s 280Z.

He shakes his head, pushing the thoughts aside. This is nothing. Just a pretty girl who needed a ride.

At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself as he finishes his beer and listens to his friends laugh.

The autumn sun bathes the campus in golden light, shadows stretching across the cobblestones as Seungmin strides toward the café. The crunch of fallen leaves under his boots echoes in the crisp air, his every step purposeful but unhurried. His black compression top clings to his frame, the fabric outlining his shoulders and arms. The silver chain against his chest catches the light as he shifts the strap of his bag, his fingers absently toying with the chunky rings that gleam on his hand.

He spots the café ahead, its tables littered with students hunched over laptops, sipping steaming cups of caffeine. His plan is simple. Grab coffee, kill some time, and enjoy the rare peace between classes. But as he rounds the corner, the sight of you freezes him mid-step.

You’re standing near the entrance, your sage green blouse slipping slightly off one shoulder, the delicate strap of your bra peeking out. Layers of necklaces glint against your skin, and your chain belt sways with every tiny shift of your weight. You’re smiling, polite but clearly uneasy, as a Sigma Chi douchebag looms too close. His navy sweatshirt emblazoned with the frat’s oversized logo makes Seungmin’s lip curl immediately.

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?” the guy sneers, his voice dripping with mockery.

Your polite smile falters, but you hold your ground, your tone gentle despite the venom aimed at you. “I’m sorry. I just don’t think—”

“Bullshit,” the guy cuts you off sharply, his voice rising. “You were sweet as fuck at the party, all flirty and cute. Now you’re ghosting me like I’m some fucking loser? What the fuck is that about?”

Seungmin’s jaw tightens. The guy’s posture, leaning in with fake bravado, makes his blood simmer. You’re too nice, too soft-spoken, trying to defuse the situation instead of telling this idiot to fuck all the way off. Not on Seungmin’s watch.

“Hey, Y/N!” Seungmin calls out as he strides toward you.

Your head snaps to him, relief flashing across your face. “Oh! Hi, Seungmin!” The brightness in your voice is unmistakable, and you take a step toward him, only for the Sigma Chi asshole to block your way.

The guy sneers, glancing between you and Seungmin. “Kim Seungmin? Really? You’re ditching me for this fucker?”

Seungmin’s boots crunch loudly against the gravel as he closes the distance. His sharp eyes narrow, and his voice drops, calm but laced with menace. “Got something you want to say, Sigma Chi?”

The guy stiffens but holds his ground, though the confidence in his sneer wavers. “Yeah. I’m saying she’s ditching a real man for some emo mechanic wannabe. That about cover it?”

Seungmin tilts his head slightly, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. “Funny. You sound like a lot of talk for someone who’s about five seconds away from having their teeth kicked in.”

The frat guy falters, glancing around to see if anyone is watching. Seungmin steps closer, his boots scraping loudly against the pavement, and lowers his voice. “Walk away, asshole. While you still have a choice.”

The guy scowls but backs off, muttering something about “fucking losers” under his breath as he storms off. Seungmin watches him go, the tension in his posture easing only once the guy is out of sight.

“Fucking dickhead,” he mutters before turning his attention back to you. “You alright?”

You nod, your fingers fidgeting with the bracelets on your wrist as you take a steadying breath. “Yeah. I didn’t know how to get him to leave without making it worse.”

“You don’t have to,” Seungmin says simply. “Guys like that don’t deserve your time. Next time, just tell him to fuck off.”

You laugh softly, though it’s tinged with a bit of nervousness. “Easier said than done.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he says, his voice lighter now, though the edge of protectiveness hasn’t left. He tilts his head toward the café door. “Come on. Let’s get coffee before some other Sigma Chi asshole shows up.”

You fall into step beside him, the warmth of the café greeting you as you step inside. The scent of fresh coffee and pastries wraps around you like a blanket, and the low hum of conversation fills the space.

“Grab a seat,” Seungmin says, gesturing toward the tables. “I’ll order.”

You choose a small table by the window, your nerves finally settling as you watch him at the counter. He exchanges a few quick words with the barista, his tone casual but confident, and a few minutes later, he’s making his way back to you with two drinks in hand.

He sets a cup in front of you before sliding into the seat across from you. “Chai latte,” he says. “Figured that’s more your speed than straight black coffee.”

You blink, pleasantly surprised. “How’d you know I like chai?”

He shrugs, smirking faintly as he takes a sip of his own drink. “Lucky guess. You just seem like the type.”

You chuckle, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. “Well, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Least I could do,” he says, leaning back in his chair, his silver rings tapping lightly against the ceramic mug. “That guy was a fucking disaster.”

You trace your finger around the rim of your cup, your voice soft. “He wasn’t always like that. We just didn’t click, and I thought he’d understand, but I guess not.”

Seungmin snorts, setting his drink down with a small thunk. “Yeah, because entitled shitheads like him don’t take rejection well. They think they’re God’s gift to the world and lose their shit the second someone disagrees.”

You smile faintly, though there’s a sadness in your eyes. “I just try to see the good in people. Maybe that’s stupid.”

He watches you for a moment, his eyes softening. “It’s not stupid. It’s just risky. Too many people out there are assholes, and being nice doesn’t mean they’ll stop being assholes.”

You nod, taking a sip of your latte and you glance up at him with a small smile. “Well, I’m lucky you were there.”

“Damn right, you were,” he says with a smirk. “Seriously, though. If some other dick tries that shit, call me. I’ll handle it.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “What, glare them into submission?”

“Exactly,” he deadpans, taking another sip of his drink. “It’s a very refined technique.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, and the tension from earlier melts away completely. Seungmin surprises you with his dry humour and blunt honesty, and before you know it, the conversation flows easily, dipping into random topics and shared complaints about campus life.

When you finally leave the café, the sun has dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the quad. Seungmin walks beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets as the two of you approach the main campus intersection.

“You heading to class?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Art history in ten.”

He nods. “Workshop for me. Another day of fixing shit that some moron broke.”

You laugh softly. “Sounds riveting.”

“Oh, it’s a fucking thrill,” he replies with a faint grin.

At the intersection, you pause, turning to face him. “Thanks again, Seungmin. For everything.”

He nods, his expression softening. “Anytime. Just don’t let assholes like that ruin your day, alright?”

You smile warmly, your voice quiet but sincere. “I’ll try.”

With a small wave, you head off toward your class, and Seungmin watches you go, the sound of your footsteps fading into the autumn breeze.

He shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You’re sweet, soft-spoken, and far too good for this world. And somehow, you’re starting to get under his skin.

The Alpha Phi house looms ahead as you walk up the driveway, your oversized portfolio folder tucked under one arm. The autumn breeze toys with the hem of your blue maxi dress, making it swirl around your ankles as you climb the steps to the front door. Stray strands of hair escape from the clip holding them back, brushing against your face as you adjust the strap of your bag and shift the weight of the folder. Your mind is focused on Tudor art, Anne Boleyn, and the mountain of work you need to finish before tomorrow—definitely not on how chaotic the frat house is probably about to be.

You knock lightly on the door and step back, waiting. The sound of heavy footsteps grows louder before the lock clicks, and the door swings open to reveal Seungmin, barefoot, in grey sweatpants slung low on his hips and a white t-shirt clinging to his damp frame. A towel hangs loosely around his neck, his dark hair tousled and still wet from a shower. The sight is so effortlessly casual yet striking that it catches you off guard, and for a second, you forget why you’re even here.

His sharp gaze flicks to the massive portfolio folder you’re holding. “Jesus Christ,” he deadpans, leaning against the doorframe. “That thing’s almost as big as you.”

You huff a soft laugh, shifting the folder to rest it against your hip. “Well, Tudor art’s got a lot of depth. It’s heavy, literally and metaphorically.”

Seungmin’s lips twitch into a faint smirk. “Right. Deep. Heavy. Bet it’s still more entertaining than the shit Hyunjin tries to call art.”

You grin, your voice light as you step past him into the house. “Oh, it’s profound. Intricate. Emotionally moving. You’d love it.”

The house, predictably, is chaotic but lively. There’s the faint sound of a video game coming from one of the rooms down the hall, the kitchen smells faintly of burned something, and a pair of sneakers is inexplicably hanging from the banister. You glance around, searching for any sign of Hyunjin.

Seungmin notices your scanning gaze and rubs the back of his neck. “About that,” he says, his voice edged with mild irritation. “Hyunjin left, like, twenty minutes ago. Went to meet up with that Marissa girl.”

Your shoulders slump slightly as you let out a quiet sigh. “Of course he did. Perfect timing as always.”

Seungmin shrugs, dropping the towel onto the back of the couch and crossing his arms. “If it helps, I can try to help you out. And by help, I mean I’ll sit here, look up shit on my laptop, and let you do all the actual work.”

Your grin softens into something more genuine. “That would actually be amazing. Thanks, Seungmin.”

He jerks his head toward the stairs. “Come on. It’s quieter in my room.”

You follow him up, navigating past a stray hockey stick and what looks like a torn-out couch cushion, until you reach his room. It’s surprisingly neat—especially for a frat house—with a neatly made bed in one corner, a desk covered in mechanical tools and textbooks, and walls lined with posters. Your gaze lands immediately on one—a half-naked woman straddling a motorcycle, her pouty lips and sultry gaze seeming comically out of place compared to the otherwise functional vibe of the room.

“Wow,” you say, unable to suppress a small laugh. “A half-naked girl on a motorcycle? Real classy.”

Seungmin glances at the poster, his smirk returning. “What can I say? It’s vintage. Been with me since I was thirteen. Practically a family heirloom at this point.”

You hum thoughtfully, setting your portfolio down on the bed. “I had Bruno Mars on my wall. Right next to Edward Cullen.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Bruno Mars and Edward Cullen? What a lineup.”

You shrug, your lips quirking. “I was multifaceted.”

“Clearly,” he says, smirking as he leans back on his hands. “But Edward Cullen, though?”

You nod, unzipping your portfolio. “Oh, obviously. A staple for any teenage girl. But for the record, I was team Alice.”

That makes him pause, his brow furrowing slightly. “Team Alice? Not team Jacob or Edward?”

“Too mainstream,” you say with a grin. “Alice deserved better. She’s underrated.”

Seungmin lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I can’t even argue with that.”

You settle cross-legged on the bed, flipping through the pages of your portfolio and spreading your sketches and notes across the comforter. Seungmin leans forward slightly, picking up one of your reference images.

“So,” he says, studying the sketch of a Tudor-era portrait. “What’s the big project?”

“It’s about how Anne Boleyn’s likeness was erased after her execution,” you explain, pointing to a specific note scribbled in the margin. “They painted over her portraits, rewrote history through art. It’s fucked up, but it’s also fascinating. Some of her portraits survived, though. It’s like this tiny act of defiance against a system that tried to erase her completely.”

Seungmin traces his thumb along the edge of the image, his dark eyes thoughtful. “That’s some heavy shit. People really went that far to bury her?”

“Yep,” you reply, smoothing out another page of notes. “Art’s more powerful than people realize. It can tell the truth—or rewrite it. That’s what makes this so interesting. It’s like solving a mystery but through brushstrokes and canvas.”

He watches you for a moment, his gaze steady and unreadable. The way your eyes light up, your voice gaining a quiet confidence as you explain something you’re clearly passionate about—it’s distracting in a way he didn’t expect. And maybe doesn’t entirely hate.

“Alright,” he says finally, snapping out of it. “Tudor art, huh? I think I’ve got some old books on restoration techniques that might help.”

You blink, surprised. “You do?”

He gets up, heading to his desk and rummaging through a small shelf. “Yeah. Took an elective on historical restoration last year. Figured I’d keep the books in case I needed them. Didn’t think they’d actually be useful, though.”

You watch as he pulls out a few worn textbooks, his movements efficient but with an almost surprising gentleness. He tosses them onto the bed beside you.

“Here,” he says. “See if there’s anything in there you can use.”

You pick up one of the books, flipping through the pages with growing excitement. “Seungmin, this is perfect. Thank you.”

He sits back down, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “No problem. Just don’t let Hyunjin take all the credit for this shit.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “He’s not that bad.”

Seungmin snorts, his smirk turning sharp. “Sure he’s not.”

Seungmin leans back against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, one foot tapping lazily against the edge of the bed. He watches you sketch in your portfolio, the soft scratch of your pencil filling the otherwise quiet room. The occasional rustle of paper or your quiet hum of concentration is the only sound beyond the faint chaos filtering in from the house downstairs. 

For a moment, he just observes. The way your brow furrows slightly as you work, how the delicate chain around your neck glints every time you shift positions.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his tone dry. “So, how many times has Hyunjin ditched you for shit like this?”

You pause mid-sketch, glancing up at him with a small shrug. “It’s not that bad,” you say. “He lets me use his printer when I need it. Mine broke a while ago, and I haven’t replaced it yet.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, his smirk sharp as a blade. “Do you own anything that actually works, or is your whole life just duct tape and crossed fingers?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “A few things work. My blender’s still going strong.”

“Great,” he deadpans, gesturing at the mess of notes and sketches spread across the bed. “And how much of this ‘collaborative’ project is actually Hyunjin’s work?”

You hesitate before flipping to a single page in your portfolio, its sparse, half-assed notes glaringly out of place among your meticulously detailed work. You push it toward him, your lips twitching in a sheepish smile.

Seungmin peers at it, his expression blank for a beat before he lets out a low whistle. “Holy shit,” he mutters, leaning back. “He’s really pulling his weight, huh?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “He’s busy, I guess.”

“Yeah, busy being a useless dick,” Seungmin says bluntly. “Honestly, you should erase his name from the project and turn it in as your own. Fuck him.”

Your eyes widen, and you immediately shake your head, scandalized. “I can’t do that! He could fail!”

“And?” Seungmin’s gaze sharpens, his voice edged with disbelief. “That’s his problem. You’re the one busting your ass here. What’s he even doing, fucking Marissa while you save his degree?”

You groan softly, dropping your pencil and fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “It’s not that simple. I don’t want to screw him over.”

Seungmin sighs, his tone exasperated but not unkind. “Then you need to tell him to step the fuck up. You’re not his babysitter.”

You grimace, avoiding his eyes as you pick at a loose thread on your skirt. “Confrontation makes me feel like I’m going to physically die.”

He snorts, his lips curving into a smirk as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, you seem like the type who’d eat around a deathly allergen just to avoid ‘causing trouble.’”

Your silence is damning. You don’t even look up.

“Oh my fucking god,” Seungmin says, his voice laced with incredulity. “You’ve actually done that, haven’t you?”

You groan softly, covering your face with your hands. “I had my EpiPen! I was being polite!”

He stares at you for a long moment before letting out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “You risked death to be fucking polite? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Peeking at him through your fingers, your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “To be fair, the coconut added to the flavour. I wasn’t even mad when my throat started closing up.”

Seungmin’s jaw drops, and he shakes his head, looking genuinely appalled. “What the actual fuck? You’re insane. Like, genuinely fucking insane. Who the hell does that?”

You shrug, biting your lip to hide a laugh. “It was a really good dessert.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.” When he looks back at you, there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, though his voice is firm. “You’re unbelievable. Sweet, sure. But fucking unbelievable.”

“I just don’t like making people feel bad,” you say softly, fidgeting with your pencil again. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” he counters, his voice dropping into something almost serious. “You shouldn’t have to risk your life or your grade just to keep everyone else happy. That’s not how it works.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sudden edge in his tone. The usual sarcasm in his voice is gone, replaced by something quieter, heavier. It’s unexpected, but it doesn’t feel unwelcome.

“Maybe you’re right,” you murmur, your gaze flicking back to the portfolio spread across the bed. “But it’s hard. I don’t want to cause trouble.”

Seungmin leans back against the headboard, watching you for a long moment. His expression softens just slightly. “Standing up for yourself isn’t causing trouble,” he says, his voice quieter now. “It’s just making sure people don’t walk all over you. And trust me, people will walk all over you if you let them.”

You nod slowly, taking in his words as you absently trace the edge of your sketchbook. For a moment, the room is quiet again, save for the faint noise of the frat house below.

Seungmin’s voice cuts through the silence, light and teasing once more. “So, about the coconut. Did someone finally figure out you were dying, or did you just sit there and wait for your ‘polite death’?”

You laugh softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “One of my friends noticed and freaked out. She basically tackled me and stabbed the EpiPen into my leg while I was trying to tell her it was fine.”

Seungmin lets out another laugh, running a hand through his damp hair. “Jesus fucking Christ. You’re lucky you’ve got people watching out for you, because clearly, you won’t do it yourself.”

You stick your tongue out at him, earning a sharp smirk in return. “Maybe I’ll start being more assertive. After this project is done.”

“Good,” he says, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms. “Because if you let Hyunjin keep pulling this shit, I’m gonna start calling you Saint Y/N. Patron fucking saint of doormats.”

You roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself. “Fine, fine. I’ll try to stand up for myself. No promises, though.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, his smirk laced with challenge. “I’ll believe it when I fucking see it.”

And though he’s teasing, there’s something in his voice that feels almost encouraging, like he might actually believe you can do it.

The house hums with faint background noise as Seungmin sits cross-legged on his bed, the fan lazily pushing air through the room. Your portfolio rests open in front of him, the pages fanned out carefully on the comforter. His sharp eyes flick over your sketches, pausing on the intricate lines and shading of Anne Boleyn’s face.

One piece in particular, a half-finished sketch of Anne wearing her iconic "B" necklace, makes him stop. Her expression is soft but haunted, the shadows under her eyes suggesting both weariness and resilience. It’s not just good; it’s fucking captivating.

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath, running a thumb along the edge of the page. “She's talented as fuck.”

He leans back, letting his head rest against the wall as his thoughts drift. He’s not sure what it is about you that keeps grabbing his attention. Maybe it’s the way your sweetness feels genuine, like it hasn’t been diluted by the world yet. Or maybe it’s the quiet determination you carry, even when people like Hyunjin leave you holding the bag.

The thought of Hyunjin makes his jaw tighten. That asshole.

By the time Hyunjin walks through the door later that night, the house is alive again. Bowls of Minho’s kimchi jjigae are being passed around the living room, the spicy, rich aroma filling the air. Seungmin sits on the floor, his back against the couch, spooning stew into his mouth like it’s his last meal.

The front door opens with a bang, and Hyunjin strides in, looking far too pleased with himself. His hair is slightly mussed, and he hums under his breath as he kicks off his sneakers. Before he can even greet anyone, a slipper flies through the air, smacking him square in the face.

“What the fuck?!” he yells, stumbling back and clutching his nose. His wide, offended eyes dart to Seungmin, who’s glaring at him.

“You,” Seungmin says, setting his bowl down on the coffee table with deliberate care, “are fucking lucky Y/N is too nice for her own damn good.”

The chatter in the room screeches to a halt. Chan, perched on an armchair, raises an eyebrow and gestures vaguely with his spoon. “Alright, what the hell is happening?”

Seungmin doesn’t even glance away from Hyunjin as he explains. “Our dear friend here has left Y/N to carry their entire art history project on her back. She’s done everything, while he’s done jack fucking shit.”

Minho, who’s leaning casually against the wall with a beer in hand, lets out a low whistle. “Classic Hyunjin move. Should’ve seen it coming.”

Hyunjin groans, rubbing the spot on his cheek where the slipper hit him. “She said she didn’t mind! I asked her if she needed help, and she told me it was fine!”

“Of course she did,” Seungmin snaps, his glare intensifying. “Because she doesn’t like confrontation, you absolute dickhead. And you fucking know that.”

“That’s rough, man,” Felix says from the couch, slurping his stew loudly. “Kinda makes you a cunt, doesn’t it?”

Hyunjin groans again, throwing his hands up. “Okay, okay, I get it. I fucked up. What do you want me to do?!”

Seungmin doesn’t even hesitate. “Pay for her car repairs.”

The room goes completely still. Then, one by one, everyone nods in agreement.

“Yeah,” Chan says, pointing his spoon at Hyunjin like a judge passing down a sentence. “That’s fair.”

“Her car’s a fucking 280Z,” Minho adds, taking a swig of his beer. “Repairs aren’t cheap. Pay up, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin looks around the room in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “You guys are ganging up on me! What the fuck!”

“No, what the fuck is you,” Seungmin snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. “You owe her. If it weren’t for her, you’d fail that class. Pay for the fucking car.”

Hyunjin sighs heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fine. Fucking fine. I’ll pay for her car repairs. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Seungmin says flatly, picking up his bowl of stew again. “And if you flake on this, I’ll throw something heavier than a slipper next time.”

“Like what?” Hyunjin challenges weakly.

“Like the fucking coffee table,” Seungmin replies without missing a beat.

The room bursts into laughter, but Hyunjin mutters under his breath as he grabs a bowl of jjigae for himself. Changbin, seated on the floor with his legs stretched out, nudges Seungmin with his foot. “You really stepped up for her, huh? Study buddy and all.”

Hyunjin squints at Seungmin, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Wait. You? Helping with art? What’s next, you learning to waterpaint?”

Seungmin glares at him, but the heat doesn’t quite reach his voice. “I know how to read, dumbass. It’s not that hard to help someone find sources.”

Jeongin smirks from his spot by the coffee table, resting his chin in his hand. “Nah, it’s not just that. Seungmin’s got a soft spot for her. We all see it.”

Felix leans forward, his grin mischievous. “Yeah, the mean mechanic act breaks real quick when she walks in with her flowy skirts and shy little smile. You’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?”

Seungmin flips him off with zero hesitation, his eyes narrowing. “Eat shit, Felix.”

“I’m just saying,” Felix continues, unbothered. “You’re kinda protective for someone who’s ‘just helping.’”

“I don’t have a fucking thing for anyone,” Seungmin retorts, shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth. “She needed help, so I helped. End of fucking story.”

“Right,” Jisung says, drawing out the word with an obnoxiously knowing smirk. “Totally believable.”

Seungmin groans, standing up and grabbing his empty bowl. “You’re all fucking insufferable.”

As he stalks out of the room, the sound of their laughter echoes behind him. But as much as he tries to ignore their teasing, the image of you sketching quietly on his bed lingers in his mind.

Maybe they’re not entirely wrong. But he’s not about to admit that. Not yet.

The late afternoon sunlight slants through the wide windows of the Alpha Phi living room, turning the room golden and catching motes of dust as they swirl lazily in the air. The mismatched furniture gives the space a slightly chaotic charm. Minho is sprawled on the couch like a cat, his cherry-red hair catching the sunlight as he lazily flips through a magazine about exotic pets. A faint smirk plays on his lips, suggesting he’s less interested in the articles and more in the idea of tormenting his housemates with his next grand idea.

Chan is perched on the armrest of the couch, his easy grin in place as he scrolls on his phone. His head bobs faintly to the playlist humming from a speaker tucked in the corner.

The peace doesn’t last.

Seungmin walks in, his boots heavy against the floor, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black cargos. His shoulders are tense, his jaw locked tight, and his sharp eyes dart around the room like he’s searching for something or someone to aim his frustration at.

Minho looks up first, instantly zeroing in on Seungmin’s sour expression. He doesn’t bother hiding his amusement. “Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Sunshine himself,” he drawls, tossing the magazine onto the cluttered coffee table. “What’s got your panties in a twist today?”

“Fuck off,” Seungmin snaps, sinking into the armchair across from them with all the grace of a dropped anvil. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and drags a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath.

Chan raises an eyebrow, setting his phone aside. “Uh-oh. You look like you’ve been thinking too hard. What’s going on?”

Minho leans forward, his smirk sharpening like a predator scenting blood. “Yeah, Seungmin. Lay it on us. Who pissed you off now? Or is this your natural state?”

Seungmin glares, his gaze flicking between them like he’s debating whether or not to just leave. But the weight in his chest refuses to budge, and he knows he’s going to explode if he doesn’t say something.

Finally, he exhales sharply, his voice low and tight. “It’s about Y/N.”

Minho and Chan exchange a quick glance, eyebrows shooting up in unison. Minho’s grin stretches wider, and Chan’s expression softens with interest.

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Minho says, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Go on, lover boy. We’re listening.”

Seungmin scowls, but the heat in his glare feels more defensive than angry. “I don’t know,” he mutters, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’ve just been thinking about her. A lot. And it’s fucking annoying.”

“Thinking about her how?” Minho presses, his tone a mix of curiosity and outright glee.

“Fucking... I don’t know! Like that!” Seungmin snaps, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “That’s why I’m asking you two assholes. What the fuck is going on with me?”

Minho’s grin turns predatory. “Oh, you absolute dumbass. You like her.”

Seungmin freezes, his sharp gaze snapping to Minho. “Do I?”

“Yes,” Chan says immediately, clapping his hands together like he’s just cracked the case of the century. “It’s so fucking obvious. How do you not know this?”

Minho cackles, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. “Are you emotionally stunted, or just slow on the uptake?”

“Probably both,” Seungmin mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “God, this is fucking stupid.”

Chan’s grin turns fond, his voice teasing but not unkind. “Oh, Seungminnie. You’re so cute when you’re like this.”

Seungmin flips him off without hesitation. “Don’t fucking start.”

Minho tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re really out here having a whole-ass existential crisis because you caught feelings. It’s almost... endearing.”

“Fuck you, Minho,” Seungmin bites out, though his tone lacks any real venom. “I didn’t ask to be analyzed. I just want to know what the fuck I’m supposed to do about it.”

Minho sits up, rubbing his chin like he’s deep in thought. “Well, for starters, you could try not being such a cold, emotionally constipated robot. That might help.”

Seungmin glares, leaning back in the chair. “So helpful. Thanks.”

Chan chuckles, reaching over to pat Seungmin’s shoulder. “He’s right, though. If you like her, you’ve gotta stop acting like a brooding asshole and actually talk to her. You’re good with words when you want to be.”

“Yeah, but not like that,” Seungmin mutters, crossing his arms. “What the fuck do I even say? ‘Hey, I’ve been thinking about you a lot and it’s annoying as fuck, so maybe we should go out?’”

Minho bursts out laughing, nearly falling off the couch. “That’s... wow. No. Don’t say that.”

Chan shakes his head, biting back his own laughter. “Just be honest, man. You don’t have to make it weird. She’s the type who’d appreciate the truth.”

Seungmin sighs, tipping his head back against the chair. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I just fuck it all up?”

Minho snorts. “Then at least you’ll know instead of sitting here stewing like a fucking idiot. Either way, it’s a win for me. Free entertainment.”

“Go to hell, Minho,” Seungmin mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Chan chuckles, his voice softer now. “You’ll figure it out, Seungmin. Just don’t overthink it. You’re not as bad at this stuff as you think.”

Minho hops off the couch with a shit-eating grin. “And if you fuck it up? Well, we’ll all be here to laugh about it.”

Seungmin sighs heavily, standing and heading for the kitchen. “You’re all fucking insufferable.”

In the kitchen, he grabs a beer from the fridge and twists the cap off, taking a long swig before leaning against the counter. Minho and Chan follow him, their shit-eating grins still firmly in place.

“So,” Minho begins, hopping onto the counter and dangling his legs like a kid on a swing. “What’s the grand plan, Romeo?”

“There is no fucking plan,” Seungmin mutters. “I’ll keep helping her with her project and hope I don’t make things weird.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “That’s not a plan. That’s avoidance.”

“Thanks for the analysis, Freud,” Seungmin deadpans, taking another swig of his beer.

Minho nudges him with his foot. “You like her. Just admit it to yourself and do something about it. Don’t be a coward.”

Seungmin sighs again, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I’m not a coward. I just don’t want to fuck up something good, alright?”

Chan claps him on the back. “Then don’t. Keep it simple. Honest. She’ll appreciate that more than anything.”

Minho grins smugly. “And if she doesn’t? Well, at least we’ll have fun watching you crash and burn.”

Seungmin glares at him, but the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrays him. “Go fuck yourself, Minho.”

Minho smirks. “Already planned for later.”

Seungmin groans, pushing off the counter and heading for the stairs. “You’re fucking unbearable.”

Minho’s laughter and Chan’s chuckling follow him as he heads back to his room, but even with their teasing, Seungmin feels a little lighter. Maybe, just maybe, he can figure this out.

The low whir of Seungmin’s fan hums through the room as you sit cross-legged on his bed, your laptop balanced precariously on your thighs. Stacks of old books are scattered around you, a testament to the marathon research session you’ve been enduring. The late afternoon sun filters through the blinds, casting soft golden streaks across the room. You’re wearing a light summer dress, its fabric brushing against your skin as you adjust your position, the hem barely brushing mid-thigh. Strands of your hair have slipped out of the clip holding it back, framing your face as you squint at your screen.

At his desk, Seungmin leans back in his chair, his black sweatpants and tight tank top clinging to his frame in the warm room. One hand flips through a heavy book on Tudor history, the other absently twirling a pen. His brow furrows in concentration, but every so often, his gaze flicks to you. Curious, amused, unreadable.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “So,” he starts, his voice slicing through the hum of the fan, “have you talked to Hyunjin yet?”

Your fingers pause mid-typing, and you glance up, blinking. “Uh, no. I don’t think I need to. It’s not really a big deal.”

Seungmin’s pen drops to the desk with a loud clink, and he swivels to face you, his expression flat but his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, sure. Not a big deal. He slacks off, you do all the work, and he gets to keep floating through life like a fucking golden retriever on vacation. Totally fine.”

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping despite yourself. “He didn’t mean to slack off. He’s just... busy.”

“With what? Pouting for his Instagram stories?” Seungmin leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. His sharp eyes glint with mockery. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t let him off the hook so easily. I could shave one of his eyebrows off.”

You laugh again, waving him off. “Seungmin, no. It’s fine, really. I’ll just finish the project, and we’ll move on.”

“Yeah, no.” He stands abruptly, his chair squeaking against the floor. “That’s not happening. Get up.”

You blink at him, confused. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to teach you the art of confrontation,” he says, walking over to you with an air of finality. He holds out a hand, clearly expecting you to take it. “And before you say anything, no, you don’t get a choice.”

You lean back, groaning. “Oh no. I’m bad at that. Absolutely not.”

“Exactly why we’re doing this.” He grabs your hand, his grip firm but not forceful, and pulls you to your feet. 

The movement sends your laptop sliding precariously to the side of the bed, and you hastily catch it before steadying yourself. Your dress brushes against his sweatpants, and for a moment, his hands linger on yours, warm and steady.

“I already hate this,” you mutter, pouting.

“That’s the spirit,” he quips, smirking. He takes a step back, crossing his arms as he looks you up and down. “Alright. Repeat after me. Hyunjin, you’re a selfish asshole, and your hair isn’t even that great.”

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head frantically. “I can’t say that! What if he hears me?”

“Good,” Seungmin says, his smirk widening. “Maybe he’ll learn something.”

You laugh nervously, covering your face with your hands. “This feels so wrong.”

Seungmin sighs dramatically, stepping closer and gently tugging your hands down. “I was prepared for this,” he says, his voice carrying a note of triumph. He walks to his closet, rummaging around until he pulls out a dartboard with a photo of Hyunjin’s grinning face pinned dead centre.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, your jaw dropping as you stare at it.

“It’s modular,” Seungmin says nonchalantly, holding it up. “I’ve got all the guys’ faces in here. They piss me off in cycles.”

“This is insane,” you say, barely stifling your laughter as he hangs the dartboard on his door.

“It’s cathartic,” he corrects, tossing a dart into your hand. “Go on. Aim for the pretty boy’s stupid smile.”

You hesitate, holding the dart awkwardly. “I’ve never thrown a dart in my life.”

“Not fucking rocket science,” he says, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Just throw it. Let your rage guide you.”

Rolling your eyes but laughing, you square your shoulders and toss the dart. It bounces off the board and clatters to the floor with an anticlimactic thunk. Your cheeks heat up as you bury your face in your hands.

“Jesus Christ,” Seungmin mutters, pushing off the wall and walking over to you. “Alright, rookie. Relax. You’re trying too hard.”

He steps behind you, his hands gently resting on your arms and you feel your breath catch slightly as he leans in, his voice low and soft.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing your forearms lightly. “Loosen up. You’re not throwing a grenade.”

You nod, trying to ignore how close he is, or the way his cologne lingers, sharp and clean. “Okay. Relax. Got it.”

“Good,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Now, aim. And don’t overthink it this time. Just let it go.”

With his guidance, you throw the dart again. It sticks in the board, just outside Hyunjin’s cheek. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you turn to look at Seungmin with a triumphant grin.

“See?” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not so bad.”

You laugh, the tension from earlier dissolving. “Okay, that was kind of fun.”

“Kind of?” He raises an eyebrow, feigning offence. “It’s the best fucking stress relief there is. Try again.”

Grinning, you grab another dart and throw it. It lands even closer to the centre, and you let out a delighted cheer.

“Nice,” Seungmin says, nodding approvingly. “You’re a natural. Hyunjin should be scared.”

As you line up another shot, Seungmin leans back against the wall, arms crossed. There’s a softness in his expression now, a flicker of something he doesn’t let show often. Watching you laugh and let loose feels oddly satisfying.

“Alright,” you say, aiming carefully. “What do I get if I hit his stupid grin?”

“A medal for bravery,” Seungmin deadpans, but his smirk betrays his amusement.

You throw the dart, and it lands just shy of the photo’s centre. Laughing, you turn to him with a mock pout. “I want a rematch.”

“You’re not ready for that kind of pressure,” he says, his tone teasing but warm.

And for the first time all day, the weight of your project and the tension with Hyunjin feel far away. In this room, with Seungmin, all that exists is the laughter, the easy banter, and the flicker of something unspoken in the air between you.

The sun dips low, casting a warm, golden hue over the Alpha Phi house as you neatly pack up your things in Seungmin’s room. The quiet scratch of your pen against paper, the occasional tap of your laptop’s keyboard, and the hum of his fan have created a soothing rhythm all afternoon. Now, as you finish jotting down the last of your citations, you stack your books and papers into an organized pile.

Seungmin leans back in his chair, his legs stretched out and his dark eyes lazily tracking your movements. A pen twirls effortlessly between his fingers, his expression calm but sharp—like he’s quietly taking in more than he lets on.

“Leaving already?” he asks, his tone casual but carrying a note of something you can’t quite place.

You glance up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I’ve got to get ready. I have a date tonight.”

The words hit like a brick, and Seungmin freezes for half a second before resuming the pen twirl, though his fingers grip it a little too tightly. His face remains neutral, but his jaw ticks slightly.

“A date?” he says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You nod, slipping your laptop into your bag. “Yeah, Minho introduced me to a guy in his class. Animal behaviour or something? He seems nice.”

His forced smile cracks for a moment, but he patches it quickly. “Nice,” he echoes, leaning forward in his chair. “That’s… great.”

The silence lingers, awkward and heavy. You tilt your head at him, your soft gaze curious. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Fine,” he says quickly, too quickly, sitting up straighter. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You frown slightly, unconvinced, but you let it go, offering him a gentle smile. “Thanks for all your help today, Seungmin. I really appreciate it.”

He nods stiffly, watching you head for the door. His chest feels tight, like someone’s wrapped a steel band around it. When the door clicks shut behind you, he lets out a low, frustrated sigh and tosses the pen onto his desk.

A beat passes before he’s on his feet, striding purposefully down the hall toward Minho’s room.

Minho’s door is ajar, soft music filtering out as Seungmin pushes it open without knocking. Minho is sprawled on his bed, headphones around his neck, scrolling through his phone with his usual smug expression. Minho barely has time to look up before Seungmin grabs a pillow from the bed and swings it at him with alarming force.

“What the fuck?!” Minho yells, his phone flying from his hand as he scrambles to defend himself.

“You!” Seungmin growls, punctuating each word with a swing of the pillow. “Fucking introduced her. To. A. Guy?!”

Minho bursts into laughter, raising his arms to shield himself. “It’s incentive, Seungminnie!” he cackles, gasping between laughs. “You needed a push!”

“I don’t need a fucking push!” Seungmin snaps, hitting him even harder.

Minho tries to sit up, still laughing despite the onslaught. “You’re so fucking obvious- Ow! Stop, you lunatic!”

“Good!” Seungmin barks, his voice sharp as he lands another hit. “Maybe next time you’ll keep your matchmaking bullshit to yourself!”

The commotion attracts Chan, who appears in the doorway with his arms crossed and an amused look on his face. “What’s going on here?”

“I’m smothering Minho,” Seungmin says flatly, not even looking up as he presses the pillow down over Minho’s face.

Chan nods approvingly, stepping into the room. “Good. Carry on. You’re doing the lord’s work.”

Seungmin lets out a humourless laugh, pressing the pillow down harder as Minho’s muffled protests grow louder. “I know, right? Someone’s gotta do it.”

“While you’re at it,” Chan says casually, leaning against the doorframe, “make sure he can’t reproduce. The last thing we need is a mini Minho terrorizing the campus.”

Minho’s muffled yell rises to a panicked pitch as Seungmin shifts his weight, digging a knee into Minho’s crotch. The resulting strangled groan is enough to make Chan burst into laughter. “Jesus Christ, Seungmin,” Chan says, shaking his head. “You’re fucking ruthless.”

“Yeah, well,” Seungmin mutters, his tone clipped. “He fucking deserves it.”

Minho finally manages to yank the pillow away, his face red and his hair a mess as he glares up at Seungmin. “You’re a psycho!”

“And you’re a fucking meddler,” Seungmin snaps, tossing the pillow back onto the bed. “What the hell were you thinking, setting her up with some random guy?”

Minho sits up, rubbing his face. “I was helping! You’re clearly into her but too chickenshit to do anything about it!”

“I didn’t fucking ask for your help!” Seungmin snaps, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

Chan raises a hand, stepping between them with a smirk. “Alright, let’s all take a deep breath. Minho’s an idiot, but he’s not wrong. You’re jealous, Seungmin. Just admit it.”

Seungmin glares at him, his jaw clenching. “So what if I am? What am I supposed to do about it, huh? March up to her and say, ‘Hey, I think about you way too much, and it’s driving me fucking insane?’”

“Honestly? Yeah,” Chan says, shrugging. “She’s sweet. She won’t bite your head off.”

Minho smirks, leaning back against the headboard. “And if she says no, at least you’ll have closure. Better than sitting here brooding like some tragic fucking Byronic hero.”

“Fuck off,” Seungmin mutters, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Chan claps him on the shoulder. “You’ve got this, man. Just be honest. It’s not as scary as you’re making it out to be.”

Seungmin huffs, glancing between them. He hates that they’re right. The thought of you with someone else already twists his stomach into knots, and the idea of doing nothing feels even worse.

Without another word, he storms out of the room, leaving Chan and Minho grinning behind him.

“Think he’ll do it?” Chan asks, leaning against the wall.

Minho snorts, rubbing his sore ribs. “Oh, he’ll do it. Or he’ll self-destruct. Either way, we win.”

Their laughter follows Seungmin down the hall, but for once, he doesn’t care. He’s got bigger things to worry about and her name is Y/N.

The Alpha Phi living room is a vortex of noise and chaos. The mismatched couches are packed with bodies. Jeongin and Felix are loudly arguing over the outcome of a video game, their hands flailing in exaggerated gestures, while Jisung lies sprawled on the floor, chip crumbs scattered around him like evidence of a crime. The massive TV blares the commentary of a football game, its volume competing with the general din. Minho is perched half-asleep on the armrest of the couch, his cherry-red hair a mess from running his fingers through it repeatedly, while Chan sits cross-legged on the floor, calmly trying to fix the connection on a janky Bluetooth speaker.

Seungmin reclines in the worn recliner, scrolling idly on his phone, tuning out the noise with practised ease. His legs are stretched out, and his dark eyes are fixed on the screen in front of him. It’s an average evening in the house, loud, chaotic, and comfortably predictable.

Until his phone rings.

The name flashing on the screen makes him sit up so abruptly that the chair creaks. He immediately presses the green button, his heart rate kicking up as he brings the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” His voice is calm, but there’s a sharp edge of alertness in it.

A soft sniffle echoes on the other end of the line, and every muscle in Seungmin’s body goes taut. “Seungmin,” your voice breaks, trembling and fragile, and it’s enough to make his blood run cold. “I—I didn’t know who else to call. He… he was awful. I just- I’m so sorry-”

“Hey,” Seungmin cuts in, his voice firm but gentle. “Stop apologizing. Just breathe, okay? Tell me where you are.”

Your breathing is shaky, but you manage to get the words out. “That sushi place near campus. I’m in the bathroom. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing,” he says, already slipping his boots on with one hand and gesturing wildly at Minho with the other. “Stay there. Don’t leave the bathroom until Minho and I get there. We’re coming to get you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, barely audible, and the line goes quiet.

Seungmin stands, his movements quick and purposeful. “Minho. Shoes. Now. You’re driving.”

Minho’s lazy posture vanishes as he sits up, alert. “What? Why? What’s going on?”

“Y/N,” Seungmin says sharply, grabbing his jacket. “She’s in trouble.”

The room quiets instantly. Jeongin and Felix stop arguing mid-sentence, their heads snapping toward Seungmin. Jisung sits up from the floor, the chips forgotten. Even Chan abandons the Bluetooth speaker, standing with his arms crossed and his face serious.

“Fuck,” Minho mutters, pulling on his shoes. “What kind of trouble?”

“She’s at the sushi place,” Seungmin says, his tone tight. “And it’s because of the guy you introduced her to.”

Minho’s face falls, guilt flashing across his features. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit,” Seungmin snaps, already halfway to the door. “Now move.”

The drive to the restaurant is tense. Seungmin sits in the passenger seat, his foot tapping a relentless rhythm against the floor. He checks his phone every thirty seconds, the tight line of his jaw only softening when he glances at the screen and sees no new messages. Minho keeps his focus on the road, his hands gripping the wheel tighter than usual.

When they pull into the parking lot, Seungmin is out of the car before it even comes to a full stop. His sharp gaze sweeps across the glass front of the restaurant. Through the window, he spots the guy sitting at a table, casually scrolling through his phone as if nothing’s wrong. Seungmin’s blood boils.

Minho sees him too, muttering a low “Fuck” under his breath. “I’ll handle him,” he says, his voice hard. He pushes the car door open and strides toward the entrance, his usually laid-back demeanour replaced with something cold and dangerous.

Seungmin doesn’t wait to see what Minho does next. His focus is on you. He heads straight for the bathrooms at the back of the restaurant, his boots thudding heavily against the tile floor. Stopping just outside the door, he takes a deep breath before knocking softly.

“It’s me,” he says, his voice gentler now. “You can come out.”

There’s a long pause, followed by the faint sound of shuffling. The door creaks open slowly, and you step out. Your eyes are red and puffy, tear tracks glistening on your cheeks. Your arms are wrapped tightly around yourself, your whole frame trembling slightly.

The second you see him, something in you breaks. You step forward and bury your face in his chest, your hands clutching his jacket like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Seungmin freezes for a split second, his eyes wide with surprise. Then his arms wrap around you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other presses against your back, holding you close. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”

You don’t say anything, but your fingers grip his jacket tighter, and your trembling becomes more pronounced. He holds you like that for what feels like forever, his heart pounding as he tries to stay calm for you.

When you finally pull back slightly, he keeps his hands on your shoulders, his dark eyes searching your face. “You’re safe,” he says, his voice firm but soft. “I promise. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Your lips tremble as you nod, but you still can’t bring yourself to speak. Seungmin brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch careful, grounding. “Do you want to tell me what happened? Or do you just want to leave?”

“Leave,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Alright,” he says without hesitation. “Let’s go.”

He keeps a protective arm around you as he guides you out of the restaurant. As you pass through the dining area, his sharp gaze finds Minho, who is standing over the guy’s table, his expression icy and his arms crossed. The guy is slouched in his chair, looking decidedly less cocky than before, and Seungmin feels a flicker of satisfaction at the sight.

Outside, Minho’s car is waiting. Seungmin opens the back door for you, helping you in before sliding in beside you. Minho climbs into the driver’s seat a moment later, his face pale but his expression grim.

“Where to?” Minho asks, his voice quieter than usual.

“Back to the house,” Seungmin says firmly. “She’s staying with us tonight.”

Minho nods, starting the car without another word.

In the backseat, you lean against Seungmin’s shoulder, your body still trembling slightly. He doesn’t say anything, just rubs slow, soothing circles on your back with one hand, his touch steady and reassuring. The warmth of his presence and the quiet strength in his gestures begin to ease the tension in your chest, bit by bit.

The drive back to the Alpha Phi house is suffocatingly quiet. Minho’s hands grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white, his jaw clenched like he’s holding back a thousand words. In the backseat, Seungmin sits close beside you, one hand resting on your knee, steady and firm. It’s not invasive, not demanding. It’s just there, a silent promise of safety.

Your head leans against his shoulder, your breath shaky but starting to even out. He hasn’t said much since getting you out of the restaurant, but his presence is enough. When the car pulls into the driveway, the headlights casting long shadows against the house’s worn exterior, Seungmin nudges you gently.

“We’re here,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost soothing.

You sit up, your movements sluggish, and Seungmin is already out of the car, holding the door open for you. He offers you his hand, and you take it without hesitation, your fingers trembling slightly in his firm grasp.

Minho hesitates by the car, glancing between you and Seungmin with guilt written all over his face. “Do you need—”

“No,” Seungmin cuts him off sharply, his glare like a blade. “Just... go inside.”

Minho opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it, nodding stiffly and heading up the steps without another word.

Seungmin keeps his arm around you as he guides you toward the house. The muffled sound of laughter and chatter spills out the windows, but the moment the two of you step through the front door, it dies like a switch has been flipped.

Jeongin, mid-laugh, stops abruptly, his expression shifting to confusion and concern. Felix, perched on the back of the couch, opens his mouth to say something, but Seungmin’s sharp glare silences him instantly.

“Not now,” Seungmin says, his tone flat but carrying an unmistakable edge of authority.

The room goes completely silent, everyone exchanging uneasy glances as Seungmin leads you upstairs. His grip on your shoulder remains steady, a grounding force as you ascend the creaky steps. You barely register the concerned murmurs behind you, too focused on the warmth of his touch and the growing knot in your chest.

When you reach his room, Seungmin pushes the door open and gently guides you inside. The familiar scent of his cologne wraps around you, grounding you further. He closes the door with a soft click, shutting out the world, and turns to face you.

You stand in the middle of the room, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The dam you’ve been holding back all night finally breaks, and a small sob escapes before you can stop it.

“Hey,” Seungmin says softly, stepping closer. He sits on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside him. “Come here.”

You hesitate, fiddling with the hem of your dress. “I—”

“Y/N,” he interrupts, his tone gentle but firm. “Come here.”

You move slowly, sitting beside him. The second you’re close enough, he pulls you into his side, one arm draped securely around your shoulders. His warmth seeps into you, steadying your ragged breathing.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” he asks after a moment, his voice quieter now. “Or we can just sit here. Your call.”

You swallow hard, nodding slightly. “I- I tried to call the date off,” you start, your voice trembling. “I just- he wasn’t what I wanted. And when I told him that, he got-” Your breath hitches, and you shake your head, trying to steady yourself. “He started touching me. Grabbing me. I- I didn’t like it. I told him to stop, but he just laughed, and I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Seungmin’s entire body goes rigid beside you. His arm tightens protectively, and his jaw clenches so hard you can hear his teeth grind. “That piece of shit,” he mutters under his breath, his tone low and venomous.

You glance up at him, your eyes wide and glossy. “Maybe I overreacted,” you say quickly, your voice defensive as though you’re bracing for judgment. “Maybe I just-”

“No,” Seungmin cuts in, his voice sharp. He shifts to face you fully, his hands gripping your shoulders gently but firmly. “Don’t fucking do that, Y/N. Don’t blame yourself. If you were uncomfortable, then you were uncomfortable. That’s it. No one gets to fucking touch you without your consent.”

His words make your chest tighten, but in a different way. A warmth spreads through you, breaking through the lingering fear. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Seungmin’s gaze softens, his hands sliding down to your elbows. He exhales slowly like he’s forcing himself to calm down. “You deserve better than that,” he says quietly. “Better than some asshole who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.”

“He wasn’t you, Seungmin,” you say before you can stop yourself.

The room goes still, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. Seungmin’s eyes widen slightly, the sharpness in his expression giving way to something warmer, something softer.

“Good,” he says after a beat, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He pulls you into a tight hug, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. “Because I’d never fucking treat you like that.”

You bury your face in his chest, letting his steady heartbeat and the warmth of his arms melt away the last traces of fear. For the first time all night, you feel like you can breathe again.

After a while, Seungmin pulls back slightly, one hand lingering on your shoulder. “You know,” he says, his tone lighter now, “Minho owes you a massive apology. I say we make him grovel.”

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your eyes. “It’s not his fault.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow. “Sure, but letting him squirm a little wouldn’t hurt.”

You laugh again, stronger this time. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he says with a smirk. Then his expression softens, and he leans forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “Hey. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head.

He hesitates for half a second, then his lips curl into a faint smile. “Go out with me. Let me take you on a real date.”

Your breath catches, your heart thudding in your chest. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while. I just didn’t know how.”

A small smile spreads across your face. “I’d like that.”

Seungmin’s shoulders relax, the tension he’s been carrying all night finally easing. “Good,” he says, his smile widening. “Because I’ve been waiting for an excuse to make a move.”

You laugh softly, the sound bright and genuine. “You’re not very subtle, you know.”

He groans, rolling his eyes. “Don’t rub it in.”

“Cool and mysterious,” you tease, leaning a little closer. “Not exactly your vibe.”

Seungmin snorts, but the warmth in his gaze doesn’t waver. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Yeah,” you say, your smile softening. “I know.”

The quiet knock on the door is hesitant, a rare sound from someone like Minho. Before either of you can respond, it creaks open, revealing him standing there in sweats and a hoodie that’s slightly too big for him. His cherry-red hair is a mess, like he’s spent the last hour running his hands through it in frustration. His usual cocky smirk is absent, replaced by something far more uncertain—almost guilty.

Seungmin’s eyes narrow, though he doesn’t move from where he’s perched on the bed beside you, his arm loosely draped behind your back. “What do you want?” he asks, his tone clipped.

Minho hesitates in the doorway, his eyes flicking between you and Seungmin. His hands stay buried in his pockets, his shoulders slouched as if he’s bracing for impact. “I’m… fuck, I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t fucking know he was going to be like that. I just thought—shit, I thought I was helping.”

You exchange a quick glance with Seungmin, who huffs but doesn’t say anything. Slowly, you stand and cross the room toward Minho, ignoring the way his eyes widen slightly in surprise. Before he can protest or retreat, you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a hug.

Minho stiffens for a moment, caught off guard, but then he melts into the embrace with a sigh, resting his chin on your shoulder. His arms come up, circling your waist with a grip that’s firmer than you expect—like he’s the one who needs comforting.

“I know,” you say softly, your voice muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Minho lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Still. I feel like a fucking asshole.”

“You’re not,” you say firmly, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I think you scared him off, anyway.”

Minho smirks faintly, though the guilt still lingers in his eyes. “Good,” he mutters. “But I’m gonna fight him. Just so you know. That prick doesn’t get to pull that shit and walk away.”

“Do what you need to,” you reply softly, resting a hand on his arm.

His smirk falters, and his grip tightens almost imperceptibly. “You’re too fucking nice,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. “You know that?”

“Minho,” you wheeze dramatically, giggling weakly as his hold becomes borderline crushing. “Can’t breathe.”

“Shut up,” Minho says, though his tone is lighter now. “I’m processing being wrong, and I’m not taking it well.”

Seungmin snorts loudly from the bed, crossing his arms as he leans back against the headboard. “Never thought I’d see the day,” he says dryly. “Minho, wrong about something? Someone call the press.”

You laugh again, a little stronger this time, and Minho scowls over your shoulder. “You’re fucking enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Seungmin replies without hesitation, his smirk sharp.

Minho pulls back from the hug, ruffling his already messy hair with a groan. “This is a disaster. I try to help, and it just blows up in my face. I should’ve known you were too much of a coward to ask her out on your own.”

“Here we fucking go,” Seungmin mutters, rolling his eyes.

Minho points an accusatory finger at him. “You. This is partly your fault. If you’d just grown a pair and asked her out, I wouldn’t have had to intervene!”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “And your intervention led to exactly what? A shitshow?”

Minho throws up his hands. “I’ll admit it! I fucked up, alright? But don’t act like you didn’t need the nudge.”

Seungmin leans forward slightly, his voice razor-sharp. “Next time, keep your fucking nudges to yourself.”

“Boys,” you interject softly, your tone patient but firm. Both of them snap their attention back to you, and you give Minho a small, reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Really. No one’s perfect, Minho.”

Minho looks at you, his expression softening further. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Seriously, though. If you need anything—anything at all—you come to me. I don’t care what it is, okay?”

You nod, your smile warm. “I will. Thanks, Minho.”

He leans down slightly, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. His voice drops to a low, serious tone. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll fight anyone for you. Literally anyone.”

“I know,” you whisper, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his words. “But I think you’ve done enough for tonight.”

Minho straightens up with a sigh, ruffling your hair playfully. “Fine. But if that prick so much as breathes in your direction again, he’s dead.”

Seungmin chuckles from the bed, shaking his head. “You’ll have to get in line for that, Minho.”

Minho smirks, turning back to him. “Big talk from the guy who’s been dragging his feet all fucking semester. Don’t get all protective now—you’ve got a date to plan.”

Seungmin flips him off without missing a beat, and Minho’s grin widens. You can’t help but laugh, the tension in the room finally dissolving as they slip back into their usual banter.

For the first time all night, everything feels like it might actually be okay.

The hum of the city murmurs faintly in the background as you linger outside your apartment building, your phone clutched loosely in one hand. The early evening air is warm, carrying the faint tang of gasoline and asphalt. The golden glow of the setting sun drenches everything in soft, honeyed light. You catch your reflection in a nearby window and smooth down the strap of your yellow bustier crop top. The fabric hugs you snugly, the bright color contrasting against your black flared pants, which sway lightly in the warm breeze. Your black Converse scuff against the pavement as you shift your weight nervously.

The distant growl of an engine draws your attention, low and throaty, vibrating through the air. You glance up as a sleek black motorbike rounds the corner, Seungmin perched effortlessly on top like he was born there. The machine glints in the fading sunlight, polished but clearly well-loved, with just enough wear to make it look lived-in. Seungmin slows the bike as he approaches, and your breath catches at the sight of him.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, cargo trousers that hang low on his hips, a fitted black t-shirt that clings to his lean frame, a well-worn leather jacket zipped halfway, and scuffed boots that look like they’ve seen more road than carpet. His hair is slightly tousled from the wind, and there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he kills the engine and kicks the stand down.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, stepping closer as the silence rushes in to fill the space the engine left behind. “You didn’t tell me you had a motorbike.”

Seungmin swings his leg off with ease, the motion fluid and confident. His boots hit the pavement with a satisfying thud as he straightens up, shrugging casually. “Not something I go around broadcasting,” he says, his tone dry but tinged with amusement. “But I figured it’d make a decent first date impression.”

“Decent?” you echo, your eyes wide and sparkling. “Seungmin, this is fucking unreal.”

His smirk deepens, and he reaches behind the seat, pulling out a smaller leather jacket. He holds it out to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly as you take it. “Jisung’s,” he explains. “Figured you’d need one. You’re about the same size, and he won’t notice it’s missing for at least a week.”

You shrug the jacket on, the leather slightly oversized but warm and reassuring. “It’s perfect,” you say, zipping it up. “Jisung has surprisingly good taste.”

Seungmin chuckles, then picks up the helmet hanging from the handlebars. He steps closer, his movements deliberate as he gently places it over your head. “Hold still,” he murmurs, his voice dropping a notch. His fingers brush against your jaw as he fastens the strap under your chin, his touch light but lingering. Once the helmet is secure, he pulls back, his dark eyes meeting yours through the visor. “Ready?”

You nod eagerly, your pulse quickening. “Hell yes.”

He grins, climbing back onto the bike and steadying it with ease. He gestures for you to climb on, his smirk playful. “Hop on, daredevil.”

You swing your leg over the seat carefully, your movements slightly hesitant as you settle in behind him. The leather of his jacket is cool against your palms as you wrap your arms around his waist. You feel the firm press of his body beneath your hands, steady and grounding.

“How fast do you want to go?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder, his voice muffled but clear.

You lean closer, your voice daring and breathless. “Fast enough to feel like we’re fucking flying.”

His smirk turns almost wicked, and he nods. “Alright. Hold on tight.”

The bike roars to life beneath you, the deep rumble reverberating through your legs and chest. You tighten your grip on Seungmin’s waist as he pulls onto the street, the bike purring as it eases into motion. The city blurs past, a kaleidoscope of lights and colours, as Seungmin weaves through traffic with effortless precision. The wind rushes against you, tugging at the loose strands of your hair that escape from the helmet.

You laugh, the sound bubbling out of you like champagne, light and effervescent. “This is fucking insane!” you shout, your voice barely audible over the wind.

Seungmin glances at you in the rearview mirror, his grin sharp and full of exhilaration. “You good back there?” he calls.

“Never better!” you reply, tightening your hold on him as he picks up speed.

The city begins to thin, the towering buildings giving way to open stretches of road. The air cools as the sun dips lower, painting the sky in streaks of deep orange and fiery pink. Seungmin leans into the curves of the road, his movements fluid, the bike responding to him like an extension of his body. You cling to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Faster?” he calls over his shoulder, his voice teasing but tinged with excitement.

“Y!” you shout back, your voice full of laughter.

He obliges, twisting the throttle and sending the bike surging forward. The wind whips past you, the world blurring into streaks of colour and motion. For a moment, it feels like nothing else exists. Just the bike, the open road, and Seungmin’s steady presence.

Eventually, Seungmin slows the bike, pulling onto a quiet stretch of road lined with tall trees. He kills the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening after the rush of the ride. He flips up his visor, glancing back at you with a smirk.

“Still breathing?” he asks, his tone light and teasing.

You pull off the helmet, shaking out your hair as you catch your breath. “Barely. That was incredible.”

He chuckles, leaning back slightly as he watches you with a mixture of amusement and something softer. “Glad you liked it.”

“Liked it?” you repeat, your grin wide. “Seungmin, that is the best fucking date of my life.”

His smirk softens into a genuine smile, and he reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Good,” he murmurs. “That was the goal.”

The sky above has deepened into twilight, the first stars beginning to dot the horizon. You tilt your head back, taking in the clear expanse, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Beside you, Seungmin shifts slightly, resting his elbows on the handlebars as he watches you.

“You’re something else,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of awe.

You glance at him, your cheeks warming at the sincerity in his gaze. “So are you, Seungmin.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I think you’ve got me beat.”

You laugh softly, leaning closer to him, the warmth of his presence chasing away the lingering coolness of the air. “Guess we’ll call it a tie.”

His grin returns, sharp and playful. “Deal. But only because it’s you.”

The air between you feels charged, the adrenaline from the ride mingling with something deeper, more electric. Seungmin's eyes meet yours, and without hesitation, his hands find your waist, his grip firm but grounding as he lifts you gently off the bike and sets you down. The world feels steady beneath your feet, but your heart is anything but.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, a sound that sends a shiver coursing through your spine.

Before you can respond, his hand slides to the small of your back, tugging you closer. His other hand tangles in your hair, tilting your face toward his. The heat of his body presses into you as he dips you slightly, his lips crashing into yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. The kiss is searing, unrestrained. Like he’s been holding himself back for far too long and has finally decided to let go. His fingers tighten in your hair, and the hand on your back presses you flush against him, eliminating any space.

Your hands fly to his chest instinctively, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt as you melt into him. The faint scent of leather, wind, and his cologne surrounds you, intoxicating and grounding all at once. His lips are soft yet demanding, each movement carrying the weight of everything he hasn’t said out loud. The cool night air bites at your skin, but it’s drowned out by the fire between you.

When he finally pulls back, his lips linger close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. His thumb brushes against your waist absentmindedly, and his eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours. A grin slowly spreads across his face, equal parts smug and genuinely amused. “You’re gonna have to hang on tighter than that for the ride back to the frat,” he teases, his voice roughened with desire.

You let out a soft laugh, still catching your breath as you clutch his jacket for balance. “I think I can manage,” you say, your voice softer than usual but no less sure. “I’ve got my very own speed demon. How could I say no?”

His grin widens, that slightly cocky, slightly boyish charm making your stomach flip. “Damn right you do,” he mutters, leaning in to steal another kiss, this one quick and playful but no less electrifying.

He steps back reluctantly, letting out a breath as if steadying himself, before turning to grab your helmet from the bike. “Helmet back on, daredevil,” he says, his voice light but still carrying that teasing edge.

You tilt your head as he steps closer, holding the helmet up for you. “Oh, you’re worried about safety?” you tease, but you stand still as he slides the helmet over your head with careful hands.

His fingers brush against your jaw as he adjusts the strap under your chin, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Gotta keep you alive,” he says with a smirk. “Wouldn’t be much of a date if you died halfway through.”

You laugh, the sound muffled by the helmet but no less genuine. “Fair point.”

Once the helmet is secure, he tilts the visor down, his dark eyes crinkling slightly with amusement as he steps back. “More Tudor art when we get back?” he asks, his tone casual but his gaze still holding that spark of mischief.

You pretend to think, tapping your finger against the helmet. “Depends. Are you going to admit that Anne Boleyn was a badass?”

“For you?” he says, his smirk softening into something more sincere. “I’ll admit anything.”

Your laugh echoes in the cool night air as you climb back onto the bike, wrapping your arms around his waist again. This time, your grip is tighter, not just because of the ride but because you don’t want to let go.

Seungmin revs the engine, the deep, throaty growl vibrating through your chest. He glances over his shoulder, his voice carrying over the roar. “Ready?”

“Always,” you say, your voice steady despite the helmet.

He grins, twisting the throttle, and the bike surges forward, cutting through the night like a blade. The city lights blur around you as Seungmin navigates the streets with the same effortless confidence as before, but this time, the ride feels different. It’s not just adrenaline now—it’s something more grounded, more connected. Each twist and turn feels like a shared secret, the warmth of his body steadying you as the wind rushes past.

As the city falls behind you, replaced by quiet streets and patches of open road, the sky above deepens into twilight. The stars begin to peek through the inky blackness, their faint light mirrored in the shimmering horizon ahead. You press yourself closer to Seungmin, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you even as the bike picks up speed.

When the lights of the frat house finally come into view, you feel a pang of regret that the ride is almost over. The bike slows as Seungmin pulls smoothly into the driveway, the rumble of the engine fading as he cuts the power. He kicks down the stand and turns to you, his grin still firmly in place.

“Still breathing?” he asks, his voice teasing as he removes his helmet.

You pull off your helmet, your hair tumbling out in a mess of strands. “Barely,” you reply, laughing softly. “But that was fucking worth it.”

He chuckles, watching you with a mixture of amusement and something softer. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one,” you fire back, your smile widening.

Seungmin shakes his head, clearly trying not to laugh, and steps closer to help you off the bike. His hands find your waist again, steadying you as your feet hit the ground. This time, his touch lingers, his dark eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory.

“Ready to dive back into Tudor art?” he asks, his tone teasing but affectionate.

You roll your eyes, a laugh bubbling out of you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“For you?” he says, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Always.”

You shake your head, biting back a grin, and follow him toward the house. The warm glow of the frat house lights spills out onto the driveway, and as you step inside, you feel the lingering coolness of the night disappear entirely. With Seungmin by your side, everything feels exactly as it should.

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

the tortured poets department

Info Post

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Part I

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Contains/TW: damn okay… where do i begin because this is a WRECK. on a serious note though this chapter contains graphic depictions of self harm and suicide attempts so please please PLEASE be careful whenever you read this. i tried to keep it as vague and non-gory as possible to make it more accessible but it may still be triggering for some people so read at your own risk! this happens in a flashback specifically and is clearly marked with spaces and labeled with the month it took place (april) so you can skip past this part if you’d like! this also isn’t meant to be disrespectful or to romanticize these topics in any way! all things in which i am writing from personal experience as well. if you or someone you know is struggling please don’t be afraid to reach out for help. you are loved 🖤 (also serious stuff aside- definitely a lot suggestive at the end teehee we’re getting there.)

WC: 5.1k

part VI

this is me trying

The ice rink almost felt eerie so empty at night, especially had it not been for the motion sensored lights flicking on every time we entered a new room. Vi didn’t hesitate to hop the counter the moment we made it to the rental booth, already missing the feeling of her arm around my shoulders as I anxiously rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. “So, what’s your size?”

“That’s a very bold question to ask a lady, sir.” I teased, attempting to put myself at ease as I leaned against the counter. “Six… and don’t make fun of me either.”

“Damn, okay, I’ll see if we have any kid’s sizes.” She laughed immediately causing me to raise both of my middle fingers with a glare.

“I said not to make fun of me.”

“I gotta give you a little bit of shit, who would I be if I didn’t?” She said with a wink that made my heart flip in my chest as she hopped back over the counter. “Here… with extra ankle support… for your sensitive-”

“These could be a pretty sick weapon, don’t you think?” I let an almost maniacal grin stretch on my face as I lifted one of the skates from her hands.

“Wow, first date and you’re already threatening me? That’s hot. Where have you been all my life?” Vi snickered as I felt one of her hands sliding around my back as she pulled me into her side. Her subtle displays of dominance and exertion of control. I wasn’t the one in charge here. She would make me think I was occasionally, but it was never true.

“Geez, how the hell do you guys walk on these things?” I questioned the moment I had laced up the rental skates once we made it into the rink.

“Well… 10 years playing hockey certainly does help.” She chuckled a bit before holding her hands out for me to take. “C’mon, I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

“You better not.” I tried to tease, though my legs still tightened and shook the moment I rose up onto the tough blades. I encircled my hand around her bicep, cursing the moment she pulled me onto the ice. It nearly caused my arm to fly around her back until it was gripping her shoulder, nails sinking into the leather of her jacket. “Vi-”

“Hey, I said I’ve got you. Just breathe.” She looked amused, yet her smile remained soft all the same. Her hands drifted from my elbows to cautiously slide around my waist, a small shiver spreading over me the moment she pulled me in, the top of my head just barely grazing underneath my chin. “Just act like we’re ballroom dancing or something… I’ll hold you up.”

I let her pull me deeper onto the ice, my hands curling around her shoulders while I seemed to feel every muscle in her toned back while I kept my face tucked into her chest. “Were you this freaked the first time you went ice skating or-”

“No, it’s not like Ellie would’ve let me fall either.” I scoffed though instantly regretting the choice of words as I momentarily cringed. You have to stop talking about Ellie while you’re on a date, Amelia. “I just mean I was, you know, a-a little bit cocky the first time we went skating. Reckless, I guess you could say.”

“Wow, you actually taking a risk? I’m kind of surprised.” She lightly teased, just in time to reach for my hand to send me twirling like we really were at a ballroom dance.

“Vi!” I exclaimed, wobbling a bit on the blades before stumbling back into her arms.

“You didn’t fall.” She said with a cheeky smile, almost drawing a tiny laugh from my own lips before I let my shaking hands curl around her shoulders again. “So, what were you saying? You were reckless? Let me guess actually… you didn’t want any help so you wouldn’t let her hold you up. Because that I can believe.”

“Maybe you’re at least a little bit right.” My cheeks flushed before I briefly let my eyes roll. “I don’t know, I guess I just spent so much of my life needing to be held up I just- I wanted to be able to do at least something on my own. Even if it was just ice skating. But I got ahead of myself, I was tense and couldn’t balance to save my life so- I fell. Curled my ankle while I did it and I didn’t end up trying it again. I’d occasionally catch Ellie on the ice though because she stayed at our place before the school year started after we both got out of the hospital so… s-sorry I’m probably over explaining things.” I apologized with even deeper heated cheeks.

Vi’s gentle smile never departed as she simply shook her head. “Don’t apologize… I think it’s cute. I wanna learn more about you anyways so- tell me everything.” Her arms seemed to pull me in closer if that was even possible, muscular but soft at the same time. My chin brushing against her chest as I peered upwards at her. “It’s not like Caitlyn’ll tell me anything anyways so-”

“You’re asking my sister for information about me? Are you sure you’re not a creep?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh I’m definitely a creep.” She spoke shamelessly causing me to let out another giggle before resting my head against her toned chest, our bodies absentmindedly trailing around the rink in whatever direction she wanted to pull us. She could’ve pulled me straight into the ground if she wanted to… and I would’ve let her.

“I don’t know, there’s not a lot of positive stuff to talk about, I guess.” My cheeks heated hidden in her jacket as if in mild shame.

“You know, I did say I wanted to see all of the dark parts too.” She muttered, just in time to feel her hand threading through my hair as she held my head to her chest. “I’m not afraid, Mills, of any of it.”

I let out a soft sigh as I let my eyes flutter shut for a moment, I didn’t even know if there was a method to whatever direction we were going in. A pattern of some sort. All I knew was how easily her touch was managing to loosen me up, hands slipping low to slip around my hips though she still held me so close… and so innocently at the same time too. “Caitlyn… she- she means well. She’s just- I-I’ve put her through a lot.” I spoke after a moment of hesitation, catching my bottom lip in between my teeth.

“She made it her goal to learn everything she could about autism and adhd and whatever other diagnoses I had run into. For a second I almost thought she was gonna major in psychology instead.” I added with a weak smile, gluing my eyes to the ice below. “In doing all of that though I guess she started to think that everything else was a threat… and maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong, I-I don’t know. It certainly seemed that way after a while so… over the course of winter and spring things escalated. I-I was in a really bad place. I was drowning in rejection letters and my parents don’t really do rejection so there was that. More or less I felt like I was just, a ticking time bomb. Caitlyn took the brunt of all of my bullshit though, like she usually did or- does. And then in April I tried to- to-” the words halted in my throat, shaking, too scared to actually continue on for fear of what someone like Vi would actually think. How could you say something like that anyways? Something so drastic and so permanent without even a second thought.

“It’s okay… you don’t have to say it if it’s too difficult.” Vi only whispered as she let a gentle hand slip around the side of my face. Another thing that just felt like she was holding me to her, and possibly the only thing that made it possible for me to stand on my two feet.

“Looking back on it now… I know I didn’t want to die. I just didn’t feel like this planet was meant for me so it would be better if I just… didn’t stay.”

~

April

“Millie! Millie, it’s me- please please answer the door!” I swore it was one of the first times I had ever heard Caitlyn cry as she slammed against the locked bathroom door causing me to flinch as I drew myself towards the opposite wall. She had gotten there in a flash, but not fast enough to completely prevent any damage.

“Caitlyn don’t- don’t come in here- I don’t want you to see this.” I whimpered as I held a hand to my mouth. Deep down I was terrified. Horrified as I starred down at the mistake that I couldn’t undo. Selfishly, I wanted her here. I wanted her in here to hold me until it all went away. If she was she would try to stop me though, up until the bitter end she’d fight for my life even if I didn’t want it anymore.

“Fuck that.” I heard her curse from the other side through a sob as she slammed her shoulder against the door once more. “You’re not leaving, you aren’t fucking leaving me!”

“Y-You’re better off… you’ll realize it eventually, I promise!” It was getting harder to argue, to even keep my eyes open as I slumped against the bathroom cabinets. “Caitlyn please…”

I was in no condition to fight her off, to get her to push back. The door even started to buckle as she sent another strong kick towards it causing me to flinch once more. I should’ve known with all of her training if anyone could’ve gotten the door to break it would’ve been her. “You’re not leaving me, you’re not- fuck that.”

The door splintered at the last kick, my resolve starting to fade as the world was beginning to sound like it was underwater. Fuck, I really didn’t want to die. I really wanted to stay… selfishly and hopelessly. I wanted to get published. I wanted to meet new people. I wanted to have new experiences I was always too afraid to beforehand. Fuck, I wanted to live. I wanted to live so selfishly.

“I’m scared.” I choked the words out, trying not to look at the mess. The disaster that I had created. The embarrassment. The shame. Fuck, what have I done? What did I do? Could I even take any of it back once it was all said and done? Or was this all there was?

The door busted open with a loud crack as she tore inside, my eyelids briefly fluttering open as the first thing she went for was the first aid kit buried underneath the sink. “I know, I know, lovey… but we called the ambulance and they’re on their way you just- y-you just have to hold on a little longer for me, okay?”

“I’m sorry.” I choked out through a sob as she took my shaking body into her arms once she pulled out the first aid kit, nearly taking the entire sink out with her. “Please don’t leave, please… Caity, I’m scared.”

“I’m right here. I’m right here, darling. I’m not going anywhere. This might hurt, just take some deep breaths, okay?” She was the only thing propping me up, the back of my head lolling against her chest while she pressed the gauze to the wound. It didn’t even hurt as much as I thought it would… I just felt tired. All I wanted was to sleep.

My parents were angry in the aftermath, so Caitlyn took on the concerned parent role. The first person I saw whenever I opened my eyes in the hospital next as she brushed the excess hair out of my face. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, like she hadn’t stopped crying for a long while. And I committed that face to memory. My sister was the strongest person I knew, and yet I had managed to break her.

~

“Now since this is a long term care facility, we do come fully equipped with a courtyard, several hiking trails as well since we do believe sunshine and activity to be the best medicine.” The nurse drawled on as she lead the two of us through the long hallways. I clutched a cardboard box to my chest with all of my approved ‘personal belongings’ besides clothes and so on. Mainly just stacks of various books and diaries and such that I hoped they wouldn’t go as far to read through.

The bed closest to the door was already occupied, the green eyes of the girl widening before she sat up and quickly shoved the comic she was in the middle of underneath her pillow. “Oh, and this is Ellie! She’s one of our newer patients as well… she’s been hoping for a roommate actually.”

“Yeah, it gets pretty lonely in here without one.” She said with a tiny smile before pushing herself up to her feet and extending an eager hand to shake before awkwardly flushing at my occupied arms. “Ummm… I-I can help you carry your stuff in if you’d like!”

“I’ve got it, but thanks.” I spoke softly before shuffling over towards what I assumed was my side of the room.

Caitlyn thankfully responded quickly with an enthusiastic handshake of her own before Ellie could retract her own. “Hi! I’m Caitlyn, Amelia’s sister. It’s nice to meet you. I’ll probably be visiting a lot so you might see a lot of me too.”

“That’s great actually, we uhhh, we don’t always get a ton of visitors here.” Ellie added as she nervously wrapped her arms around herself before she noticed Caitlyn’s general confused expression and her eyes went wide once more, “Woah, Ellie, that was some serious projection there. Sorry about that… umm, I-I’ll give you guys some privacy to settle in and- yeah. I-It was good to meet you, Caitlyn.”

“Take care of yourself, Ellie.” Caitlyn added, watching her nervous figure slip from the room. “Well, she seems nice. I think you guys’ll get along.”

“Maybe.” I whispered, eyes still glued to the floor as if I was waiting for it to swallow me up. And I wouldn’t have minded if it did.

“Listen, I know this is gonna be new and- probably difficult but… I really do think this might be the best place for you right now. A long reset before college isn’t a bad idea and you might even meet some new friends also starting at Oxford too. I- I really think this could help you. I do.” She slipped her hands into mine, almost seeming like she was trying to convince herself more than anything.

“I hate it though… not being around you. I mean, I know that it was my own fault and I traumatized you and-” The tears were finally starting to come now that we were alone. Big fat shame-filled ones that she quickly caught before shaking her head and pulling me in.

“Hey, hey… this isn’t a punishment, okay? You’re not being punished. I promise, this is just some extra help and- an added precaution to keep you safe.” A shuddering sob spilled from my lips the moment I buried my face into her chest, keeping it hidden tucked away in her shirt for fear the second they saw me it only solidified the fact that I belonged here. “I know, I know it’s scary, love. Just hold on just a little bit longer for me, okay? You might even write the next greatest tragedy while you’re in here.”

I let out a weak tearful chuckle against her arm before shrugging, “Maybe, it’d definitely be fitting.” I sniffled, letting the tears soak into the fabric of her shirt. But she didn’t dare let go of me. “Caity, I- I really am sorry, for what happened. I- I really wanted to keep you from ever seeing it get that bad.”

Her quiet shush only felt like it was bringing out another wave of sobs. Meanwhile she just simply continued to rub soothing circles on my back and rock us back and forth on her feet just like she would whenever I was having meltdowns whenever we were kids. “Listen, I’m your big sister, okay? It’s my job to protect you. Not the other way around.”

“I thought we were supposed to protect each other.” I spoke, every last sob made me hate myself more and more by the second though. Every sob solidifying just how incapable I truthfully was.

“You can’t do that if you aren’t here.” Caitlyn sighed, finally prying the two of us apart before taking my face in her hands. “Can you?”

It was the first thing anyone had said about the situation that had made sense. For a while I was certain she was the only reason I hung on until I finally got close to Ellie. Even though it was sometimes hard to see where the improvement lie in the aftermath. And as much as Caitlyn would never say it, I knew it relieved a lot of weight off of her shoulders… me being in that hospital over the summer.

“I’ll be back Wednesday with all of the summer gossip, I promise. Also if you finish any of those books let me know and I can bring you more.” Caitlyn reassured me for the millionth time as she let me trail behind her towards the exit, a soft hand holding mine the whole time while I clutched onto her arm for dear life.

“Do you think you could bring me something like, dark academia maybe? That way I can get prepared for Oxford?” I wondered, gnawing on my bottom lip as each step seemed to make my heart ache more and more by the moment.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Caitlyn said with a tiny chuckle before placing a soft kiss to my forehead. “Call me the second you can tomorrow, okay? So I can hear about your first day?”

“Sure, promise.” I answered with a little nod of my own. It was almost embarrassing, being so reminiscent of a parent dropping their kid off at school for the first time. Caitlyn had taken on almost every role that my parents should have throughout the past few years. Yet another thing that only made me feel guilty.

“Okay, I love you, pipsqueak. More than anything.”

“I love you too, Caity.”

I tried not to hug her again before she left, an action that I could tell stung but in reality I just wasn’t sure if I would be able to pry myself off of her again. My face was red and blotchy by the time I made it back towards the room, eyes bloodshot, glassy, and tears that showed no plans of stopping just yet.

Ellie was already back on her bed once I made it back, knees hugged to her chest with a look on her face that I could only describe as puppy dog eyes. “Hey- are… are you okay?” She stammered, swiveling towards me as she dropped her legs to swing off the side of the bed before letting a soft sigh with a shake of her head. “Never mind, don’t answer that- I- I know you aren’t okay.”

“I’ll be fine.” My voice sounded hoarse from all of the crying as I took a seat on the edge of my own bed. Surprisingly not feeling like a lump of concrete as I wrapped my arms around myself, preemptively curling myself into a ball as if to prepare myself for where I’d probably spend the first week.

“For what it’s worth, which I know isn’t much because we just met but still…” Ellie began with a clear of her throat as she seemed to anxiously wring her hands in her lap. “If you ever wanna talk or- or anything really… I’m here.”

At the time I had no intentions of accepting her offer, nevertheless though I let myself nod before closing my eyes. “Thanks.”

~

Figures it would’ve been a nightmare that brought us together, I just never expected the codependency to kick in as quickly as it did.

I was still sleeping a lot during the day, not sure if it was a symptom of the depression, the infinite amounts of pills I was on or what. Every day we met with therapists, social workers, doctors, case workers, you name it. Not to mention there was also the group therapy sessions that weren’t mandatory. None of which I had managed to go to which probably wasn’t helping my case any. Ellie had seemed to be here long enough to make a decent amount of friends though. She was anxious, but infinitely more social. So if I needed to be social to spend more time with her I would.

So that afternoon I tried to rouse myself from my bed and shuffled towards one of the large community rooms they usually held group art therapy in. Every inch of me felt like it was shaking as I stepped into the filled room right in the middle of the several different conversations it felt like. Way too many eyes swept over towards my probably supremely tense figure than I was comfortable with. Ellie’s stuck out the most though, sat at a long table with a bunch of other rowdy girls where she was bent over a sketchbook.

“Millie! Hey! You finally came!” She exclaimed with a bright smile on her face as she quickly darted upwards to pull over an extra chair. “We were actually just working on our DnD characters because we all wanted to start a campaign this summer. You should join actually!” She added enthusiastically causing a girl with cropped ginger hair to wrinkle her nose.

“I thought you said we were full.” She sneered in a scottish accent already causing an anxious lump to form in my throat.

“Yeah, just like your file of public disturbances, Maddie.” Ellie shot back immediately causing a few of the girls to erupt in laughter as Maddie’s face went red with embarrassment.

“Jesus Ellie, just because it’s true doesn’t mean you need to say it.” A girl with shoulder length hair spoke up across from Ellie, and if it wasn’t for Ellie’s typical little half bun on the back of her head they could’ve almost been twins.

“Oh no, Max, I think she definitely needed to say it.” Another girl with also short but strikingly blue hair snickered from next to Max as she sat forward as if tuning into a dramatic tv show.

“Have you even played DnD before?” Maddie added, eyes scanning me up and down in a way that had me bristling.

“Uhhh no but-” I was interrupted by her scoff, already picking at the walls of my fragile emotional state.

“Oh get fucked, Nolan, it’s not like she’s playing DM.” Ellie rolled her eyes before I felt the weight of a protective arm slipping around my shoulders.

“Steph, you’re DM… you decide.” Blue directed towards a bored looking girl sat at the end of the table, a red beanie shoved onto her head and the outline of a hummingbird tattoo inked onto the side of her chest.

“I mean, one extra player is hardly going to derail my storyline so… I say the more the merrier.” She spoke with a shrug causing a weak smile to stretch onto my lips.

“Good, glad to hear it.” Ellie spoke before shooting what seemed to be a cocky smile towards Maddie’s rolling eyes.

~

Present

I seemed to disassociate in the process of telling the story. At some point Vi caught onto my shivering though and didn’t hesitate to pull me off of the ice. The two of us now sat in the empty yet fancy lounge for the hockey team complete with plush blue couches and the famous coffee bar Ellie had raved about earlier. I had apologized profusely, constantly wondering if I should stop, if I was going in too deep, Vi only encouraged me though. Even slipping a steaming cup of hot chocolate into my cold hands and draping her leather jacket over my shoulders. More of a gentleman than some men.

“Do you still keep in contact with any of those girls? Besides Ellie, obviously.” I heard her ask from behind me where she lounged against the back of the plush chair, calloused fingers tucked underneath the jacket as she ran her hands up and down my spine.

“Yeah actually… or I, I try to at least. Ellie’s more social than I am but a lot of the patients at that hospital are students. Or about to be either one. We even talked about starting a DnD club ourselves since nobody else has bothered to. And it’d probably be overrun by incels.” I chuckled a bit to myself before lifting the cup of hot chocolate to take a sip just as a small chill rushed through me. “You should join whenever we do.”

“I don’t know if it’s really my thing but Jinx and Ekko might be into it. You should ask her. Actually… definitely ask her if Maddie’s involved because I’d pay real money to see them duke it out.” Vi snickered with the soft smile remaining on her lips as she sat forward, “C’mere, let me warm you up.” I almost flinched again whenever I felt her big arms slipping around me from behind, a little gasp lodging in my throat as I placed a shivering hand over top of her forearm causing her eyes to soften a bit. “You okay? Sorry… I-I should’ve asked first, it’s a habit.”

“No, it’s- it’s okay… I’m trying to get more used to it- with you.” I said with a little nod as I tried to sink back into her warm embrace. Slowly letting the muscles in my body loosen one at a time as I let the back of my head rest against her chest, lolling against her thick bicep. She was surprisingly soft, every inch of the cold feeling like it was melting right off of me. From behind me I felt her chest rising and falling with each soft breath, enough to pull me to sleep right then and there almost.

“Baby?” I heard her whisper from above me, gulping another lump down my throat as I felt her calloused fingers brushing underneath my chin and along the curve of my jaw. I tensed again for a moment, my hand wrapping around her forearm with my nails nearly sinking into her flesh in mild anxiety. Let her. Just let her touch you. It’s okay. Let her. “Shhh, I’m not gonna hurt you.” She spoke, probably feeling the shuddering breath I let out against where her arm stayed wrapped around my front. “Can I kiss you?” She whispered, a little flush spreading on my cheeks at the way she still asked.

My eyes widened almost eagerly as I nodded, body consumed with heat just as I felt her lips brushing against mine. Soft at first, arms almost feeling like they were consuming me entirely as they tightened around my body. My hand shook as I lifted it to rest against her head, tangling through her surprisingly soft hair as if I was pressing her further into me. I almost whined whenever her lips disconnected from mine, instead only drifting over to trail along my jaw as if in a pattern.

With every kiss my breathing grew more and more shallow, a small gasp catching on my lips as I felt her lips wrapping around the pulse point of my neck. I almost wanted to slap a hand over my mouth in embarrassment at the way a moan prodded at my lips, fingers curling into her hair as that same ache flared up in between my legs. “Vi-“ Her name seemed to fall from my lips with a whimper as her teeth lightly prodded at my skin.

“Does that feel good?” She whispered, and I seemed to feel my head shifting to give her more access as I nervously and probably awkwardly nodded. Another soft moan spilled from my lips the moment I felt the pinch of her canines against my neck.

Her hand curled into the excess fabric of my sweater, tugging at it as if she wanted to pull it right off. Slipping underneath, her callouses drug along my stomach, my sides, towards my hips, brushing over the bones like she wanted to trace them all the way down. “Vi… please.” The words came out through the airy moans as she continued to let her hand explore my body and her lips decorate my neck in repeated kisses. My head arching against her chest in need, almost leaving me tugging at her hair.

“You know I can’t fuck you in here, right, baby?” She whispered into my neck, giving my hip a subtle squeeze that also left me gasping.

“Then take me to where you can fuck me.” I almost didn’t recognize myself with the words that came out of my mouth as I shifted around to face her. Her hands still staying firmly on my waist meanwhile she only seemed to have a smug expression on her face as she settled back against the arm rest of the couch.

“You want me that bad, princess?” She spoke with a quirked up brow, a delicate finger tracing along the curve of my waist. My hands curled around her shoulders in frustration, certain she could almost feel my thighs tightening around her waist. I was probably a whiny mess as I nodded, the warmth of her hand nearly covering the width of my back.

“Please… Violet.” I knew saying her full name would tug at her. It was usually aggressive whenever other people said it, angry, a sign she had fucked up or pissed somebody off. Whenever I said it though it was needy, a plea almost. I slid my hand from her shoulder to press against her chest, almost like I was trying to grab at her heart. Sink my fingers through her ribs until I could feel it beating in my hands, and I swear I almost felt it quickening the moment I did.

“Fuck it.” I heard her whisper underneath her breath just before I could feel her pressing her forehead to mine. “Wanna go back to my place?”

A/N: okay SORRY SORRY i had to edge you guys 😭 i promise this next chapter we WILL be cranking it up a notch and there might even be some smau vibes as well so… stay tuned please?? </3

i’m so sorry for the emotional rollercoaster and if this isn’t the best as well because i definitely think it’s far from my best work but c’est la vie can’t win them all 😭 love u anyway lesbians!! 🖤

Taglist: @sawaagyapong @autisticgirlkisser @macamilarofe @nombreuxx @snowbunnyboo @lils-1979 @myrrus @baylegend6 @withyou-withoutthem @lil7-I @cloudy-fay @liliwritin @primarina-diamandis @soodle-noup @livil589 @riches-expresso @deepobservationcherryblossom @pixieolives-blog @roseannih @fernanda-2022 @clefairysoup @cherrybomb2298

click HERE to join! 🖤

[bumblebyaf]

the pricefield breakup was good

just finished double exposure and while the game had many flaws i entirely disagree with one of the biggest complaints i’ve seen both before and after the games release: the pricefield breakup. in fact, the pricefield breakup is my favorite part of the game and one of the most fascinating character writing decisions that defined a lot max’s character for me…so here’s my essay on why max & chloe could never work long term, the breakup was incredibly natural, and how its the only way for both of them to move on. don’t bother reading of course if you don’t want to hear any of these opinions <3 

to start off the bat (and this will be the paragraph people hate the most): max & chloe are one of the weakest lis pairings (and again this is obviously all my opinion). they honestly never even had that much chemistry to me and i probably never would have shipped them had the game come out later but since the game came out when it did and it was the first gay game i’d ever played and they were like the only gay rep i knew it was brilliant & i think nostalgia for this clouds a lot of what people see when they think of pricefield but objectively they never make sense as a pairing to me and i find their scenes together quite awkward or boring. chloe is an asshole to max throughout the whole game (and i am a huge chloe supporter, i understand absolutely where all of her anger and issues were stemming from and it made sense!) and max is either a pushover who just lets her do it or like entirely indifferent to it/ignores it i guess depending on how you play; and max is shitty too i mean we know she ghosted chloe for years and then went back to blackwell for like a month or whatever without ever looking up chloe and who knows if she ever actually would have. which like max doesn’t have an obligation to do that but she clearly wanted to after she meets chloe again and then she spends so much of the game thinking about how chloe replaced her with rachel when max left first and trying to just slot herself back into the exact spot she left (also chloe did not replace her anyway they were entirely different relationships). (unrelated but this is why i hate when people have max add her name to the wall in the junkyard hide out lol) max spends the entire game watching chloe die in several different ways and trying desperately to keep her alive which has got to make a crazy trauma bond/attachment and honestly aside from one or two very obviously written “gay” scenes chloe barely registers as romantically interested in max to me (which…yeah chloe is spending the whole game going through a lot of stuff!) right up until the end where chloe realizes how hard max has been trying to keep her alive/max has been helping her with all the struggles she’s having this week/backing her up with her family drama etc during a time where chloe doesn’t really think anyone cares about her…which i don’t know again seems like a trauma bond to me! and then max sacrifices an entire town for her? of course they get together. you also have to remember that this game takes place during like the WORST week of these two young girls lives it’s just crazy to me how people define their entire relationship/personalities by this time period 

also like i know a lot of LIS fans don’t love BTS because its a different studio and the original LIS writers never wanted a prequel & that for some reason a lot of LIS fans think rachel is the devils fucking spawn BUT thats a different argument (bts being my second favorite game & rachel my third favorite character) but after watching chloe in bts (still with Issues and trauma but less heavy and more shared) and seeing her fall in love with rachel there i could never see her with max the same way

also to be clear i’m not saying at all that i think max & chloe don’t care for each other deeply; i do believe they love each other my argument is just that this relationship could never really last long term and mostly stemmed from the trauma they were going through which brings me to the main part:

max & chloe breaking up makes perfect sense for their characters, especially the reason given as well. chloe telling max that she wants to move forward and live in the future but max is always looking to the past- this single line sold me on the break up immediately i found it fascinating! max does live in the past! its her entire power! her entire game is about rewinding over and over to make the perfect moment etc. max’s character is constantly being brought into question when it comes to how she uses her powers even when she only ever tries to use them for good reason (in particularly i really like the subtle way the comics handled this too, BY CHLOE, but i know not everyone likes the comics either and they’re obviously not canon to the games since they contradict double exposure lore as well. but in the comics an alternate timeline chloe criticizes max on how reflexively she uses her powers to save/help people without considering how rewinding a moment affects everyone around them as well- and how sometimes things go wrong but can work out anyway. this is proven by us also following a second timeline without max there to rewind and we see how those characters navigate the issues max erased and in some instances they turn out even better and i like a happier healthier chloe having this perspective).  i feel like the chloe we meet in life is strange is so specific to that one game (she is going through so much active trauma and it is literally like the worst week of her life) but the pieces of her i’ve seen outside of that game show me how much her character can change when given space to breathe so i don’t think its fair to hold her to just that week. i can very easily see how chloe would want to put everything behind her and try to fully move on/away from everything that has happened and this being the only way she feels she can move forward- similarly how max could spend everyday stuck living with the choices she made and the effects its had on her, how much harder it is for her to separate and move on. 

i also think it makes perfect sense that chloe could grow some resentment towards max for her mothers death- i’m sure chloe wouldn’t act on this but i can see them both knowing it’s there and chloe not really being able to help feeling it. i mean chloe really is fully accepting of her death in life is strange and its max who makes the choice to keep her alive (and yes it’s shitty of chloe to make it seem like a choice at all but that’s also just like…the game having to give the player a choice too). chloe has to live with knowing her mother and everyone she knew died so she could live and max has to live with knowing she directly made that choice and both of them have to just…know and live and think about this everyday they’re with each other how can they move on? is that not suffocating? with some space they can at least maybe start to really separate from it 

i also think chloe’s implied insecurities around max rewinding parts of their relationship also make sense to be honest…max spends the entire game trying to fix every interaction to be the right one like i KNOW she would rewind mistakes because i DID that as her; and maybe you can say max would never use her powers again after the storm but to be honest i don’t think thats true…i think she would never redo grand scale things again (except i guess she does in double exposure) but i just don’t know if i believe she could resist the temptation to keep her and chloe’s interactions perfect- at least in the beginning. i’m not saying she DOES but i GET it- i understand chloe’s paranoia (if it is just paranoia and not fact) because i don’t think i could trust either because i also understand MAX. max who killed an entire town for chloe & their relationship- wouldn’t you feel like you had to keep doing everything in your power to make sure it works? to keep it good, to keep chloe happy?  it’s a really complicated feeling for both of them i’m sure

and i think chloe is right when she says max is always living in the past because we literally see her doing it during the game. she’s still journaling to chloe, she keeps chloe in her wallet & on her wall, we keep having flashbacks to arcadia, max keeps a box of arcadia with her (even though we know she’s also been traveling/on the road most of her adult life), she’s never discussed any part of her past with her friends, her photography focus is about the lonely and abandoned. the entirely of double exposure is about max learning how to really stop living in the past and the harm it could do (through what happened to maya and safi and how its still happening four years later because no one ever really dealt with it etc) and that’s why this undercurrent and the pricefield breakup is my absolute favorite part of this game and the best part of it

i also think it’s really worth pointing out what a lot of people seem to have missed (in the complaints i did see); max & chloe didn’t have some horrible explosive ending and they hate each other forever now and the two are forever ruined or whatever…chloe simply saw she could never truly move forward with max and maybe more importantly she saw max could never move forward with her (how could max move forward from the worst choice she’s ever had to make in her life when she’s also sharing a bed with it?) chloe still loves and cares for her, max still loves her, they could be on friendly terms very easily- in fact i think the only reason they don’t talk right now is because of max (which is for the best during this time i think anyway) and chloe would be absolutely open to their friendship whenever max is ready. chloe wants the best for both of them & chloe’s text at the end of the game proves she’s still thinking of max & open to talking again whenever max is. max also has feeling by the end of the game that’s ready to really start moving forward from arcadia now and one day she will be ready to confront chloe again and i think whenever that happens the two will be really good friends again- like they always were.

[theduckofindeed]

Moon’s Eyes in the Vanny Ending of Help Wanted 2 + Other Thoughts

I’ve been watching Dawko’s playthrough of Help Wanted 2 lately, as I don’t have a VR headset, so I can’t actually play the game myself.  Today, I watched his video showing the Vanny ending after you get the Bonnie mask in Princess Quest 4, and I noticed an odd detail that I haven’t heard anyone else bring up yet.  When you get the Vanny ending normally, Moon has black pupils.  But if you get the ending after getting the Bonnie mask, Moon has red eyes like he usually does in Security Breach.  That’s gotta mean something, right?

I’m still conflicted on what this ending means.  It seems pretty straightforward on the surface, that Vanny is crushing Glitchtrap and freeing herself from his control.  (Glitchtrap even reacts in fear when she does this.)  But then other people theorize that this is Vanny taking Glitchtrap’s place as the new villain, I think?  I must admit I’m a bit confused, as I thought Vanny was just Vanessa brainwashed by Glitchtrap.  So Vanessa getting revenge on Glitchtrap makes more sense than her wanting to get rid of him and continue on his work without him.

Yeah, clearly I’m a bit confused by FNAF lore (aren’t we all), so I’m sure I have some details wrong.  I don’t totally even understand Glitchtrap’s goals or, by extension, Vanny’s.  I thought Vanny probably killed 9 kids before the events of Security Breach.  What was her motivation for this?  Is she killing kids just because Glitchtrap wants her to?  Is there a greater purpose?  I know that Sister Location had all this confusing lore relating to Afton creating the Funtime animatronics to kill kids because of his weird experiments with remnant or whatever.  Because he wanted to revive his dead son.  (Honestly, I really struggle to follow the lore anymore.  When I’m sitting through another FNAF-related episode of Game Theory, I’m typically so confused.)

If Vanny is gathering kids for the same purpose that the Funtimes were basically built for, why would she wish to continue on with Afton’s work independently of him?  Then again, I know that the theory now is that Glitchtrap is related to the Mimic.  Which just makes things even more confusing.  So…what’s the Mimic’s goals, then?  Other people theorize that Vanny’s goal is to get Glitchtrap an actual body.  Again, what would her goal be with Glitchtrap gone?

Anyway, I’m very torn on which theory is more correct concerning the Vanny ending of HW2.  I’d really like it to be representing Vanny freeing herself from Glitchtrap’s control and getting vengeance on him and that this is part of Vanessa’s plan to help Gregory get rid of the Mimic.  But that doesn’t mean my favorite interpretation is right.  Though I do believe it’s more straightforward and less confusing.

As for Moon’s role in all this, if my preferred theory is correct, does that mean that Moon has joined Vanessa and Gregory in defeating the Mimic?  Why?  Does Moon’s presence in the claw machine even directly correlate to Moon or is he representative of something else?  (One theory said Moon represented Gregory, though I’m unsure about this.)  If any animatronic is working with Gregory and Vanessa, I’d think it would be Freddy.

On the other hand, if Vanny is simply destroying Glitchtrap and taking on the role of the new main villain, why is Moon helping her?  Is he doing so willingly or because he’s infected by a virus like many of us assumed?  Because if he’s not infected and is serving Vanny willingly, what is his motivation?  I see no reason why he’d want to willingly join this evil woman’s cause?

Again, there must be some important reason why Moon’s eyes are red in one ending and have black pupils in another.  Red pupils implies a virus and black implies no virus.  But aside from changing whether or not Moon is a willing participant in all this, I’m unsure what other significance there could be.

It is interesting that we seem to have confirmation that Moon has a special role to play in Vanny’s plans.  Many of us, including myself, believed this.  There was always something off about him.  Based on that note about a kid being unable to sleep in the dark after spending time in the Daycare, clearly Moon (and possibly Sun, as the kid wet the bed with the lights on) was scaring kids before the events of SB, even though I don’t think the Glamrocks got infected by the virus until shortly before the game’s events.

Furthermore, even Freddy seemed afraid of Moon.  While he had a hard time accepting that his friends would attack Gregory, he had a much easier time believing that Moon was dangerous, stating that Moon WILL find Gregory if he’s not careful.  He also referred to Moon as “it”, which I thought was odd.  Even in Ruin, Sun/Moon are called “it” rather than “he”.  (HW2 is the first time I can remember either of them being referred to as “he”, and that’s by Sun himself when he says about Moon, “He’ll wake up”.)

Anyway, obviously Moon was acting weird before the events of SB.  I know the books say that Sun and Moon were originally a theater robot, with Moon being the villain of their show, and Moon was never intended to be a part of the Daycare at all.  But…

1: With all the merch and other artwork for both of them (including large statues outside the Daycare entrance and inside the gift shop), it seems Moon was definitely intended to be taking care of the kids alongside Sun.

2: Cassie’s comments about the Sun and Moon plushies in Ruin imply she had fun playing with Sun during the day and found Moon to be a comforting presence at night.

3: It would just be odd if Moon was not reprogrammed from his villain role at all.  I don’t believe that part of his act was telling kids to go to sleep.

What all this means is…Moon clearly was meant to work in the Daycare and oversee naptime, and Sun and Moon were once good at their jobs or else Cassie wouldn’t have had fond memories of them.  So something clearly happened to cause them to start scaring the kids.  And Freddy, apparently.

I must admit that I’m rather biased against the idea of Moon being evil and serving Vanny willingly.  But I also think there’s a lot of evidence to support my idea that Moon didn’t voluntarily assist an evil woman in killing kids.  He seems to have had a more gentle nature when Cassie knew him, and again, there is zero motivation for this robot to help this murdering rabbit lady or whatever the heck Glitchtrap is in whatever the heck their evil plan is.

That’s why my theory was always that Moon was infected by the virus earlier than the other robots.  Maybe as a test subject.  And he was probably chosen because his weird behavior would be less noticeable than that of the Glamrocks, who are the main stars of the Pizzaplex.

Mini Generator Rant: I mean, clearly the staff did notice an issue and put in those generators.  Which are horribly ineffective because the lights still go out every hour.  On the hour.  Even in the Daycare.  Even after you turn the generators on.  And honestly, what’s the point of generators that don’t start up automatically when the lights go out?  What, so the kids are responsible for crawling into the play structures and turning them on?  All five of them?  Which are required to light up one room?  It’s just bonkers, I say!  Bonkers!

Some final thoughts…I have mixed feelings about the implications of HW2’s endings.  While many of us already believed that Moon was working with Vanny, I guess I’m not the biggest fan of having direct confirmation.  I kinda preferred it when this was left open to interpretation.  That’s how I prefer most of my mysteries, really.  I also just hope they don’t confirm that Moon is actually evil.  Because I like Moon, and I’d prefer it if his evil side is due to a virus and not because that’s his true nature.  Plus, I just dislike Vanny, so I’m, naturally, not too fond about one of my favorite characters teaming up willingly with one of my least favorites.

Anyway, those are my lengthy thoughts.  Long story short, I’m just curious if anyone else noticed the difference in Moon’s eyes in these two endings and what that might mean.

[timeless-fanfic]

Unexpected Distractions

Word Count: 1358

Andrew x Reader

Note: Someone requested a one-shot of a look into Andrew's thoughts during his first meeting with the reader! Here it is!

It was a normal day in Capernaum, or at least it should have been. The marketplace was as busy as ever, the air thick with the smell of freshly baked bread and dried fish. I’d just finished helping my brother, Simon, carry a load of supplies for the day’s work. Normally, I’d be focused on the task at hand, not much for distractions. But today—today was different.

I first noticed her standing near a stall selling pottery. She wasn’t from around here; that much was clear. Something about the way she carried herself—confident but not overbearing—caught my attention. Her movements were smooth, deliberate, like she always knew exactly what she was doing. As she picked up a simple clay jar, examining it closely, I found myself... watching.

I don’t know why I couldn’t look away. There was something about her that drew me in, like a quiet force. I shook my head, trying to push the feeling aside. There was work to be done, and Simon was already giving me a look like I was slacking off.

But then, before I could regain focus, I heard a voice behind me.

“Andrew, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I turned to find Philip grinning at me, his eyebrows raised in amusement. Of course, he’d noticed. He always seemed to catch me at my most vulnerable moments. Beside him, Thaddeus chuckled, crossing his arms as he followed Philip’s gaze to the woman I’d been watching.

“She’s quite something, isn’t she?” Philip nudged me playfully. “I’ve never seen you this flustered before. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, clearing my throat. “Just... distracted, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Thaddeus added, his smile widening. “You’re distracted by something, alright.”

I wanted to deny it, to tell them they were being ridiculous, but my face felt hot, and I knew I wasn’t doing a good job hiding my reaction. Simon always said I was too easy to read, and now I was proving him right in front of the others.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, perhaps a little too quickly.

Philip leaned in, lowering his voice. “You should talk to her.”

“What? No, no, that’s... unnecessary,” I stammered, rubbing the back of my neck. “We’ve got work to do. Let’s focus on that.”

But neither of them seemed inclined to let it go. Philip nudged me again, more forcefully this time, while Thaddeus crossed his arms, watching with a smirk that said he wasn’t buying my act for a second.

“You’re already thinking about her,” Philip teased. “Why not go say hello? It’s not like you to hesitate.”

I was about to protest again, but then she turned toward us, and any words I had dried up in my throat. She had a calm presence, yet her eyes held a sharpness, like she saw everything and understood more than most people would notice. I felt a knot tighten in my chest. I wasn’t usually like this around anyone, much less someone I’d never met before.

Before I knew it, Philip was pushing me forward, and I stumbled a little, catching myself just in time. “Go on, Andrew. Don’t make us do all the talking for you.”

I shot him a glare, but it was no use. The two of them were clearly enjoying this too much.

I took a deep breath and walked over, trying to muster some semblance of normalcy. “Uh... hi.”

Smooth, Andrew, very smooth.

She looked up from the pottery in her hands, meeting my eyes with a curious tilt of her head. “Hello.”

There was a brief, awkward pause, the kind that always feels much longer than it actually is. I struggled to think of something to say that wouldn’t make me sound completely ridiculous. But of course, before I could say anything remotely coherent, Philip and Thaddeus followed behind me, clearly not content to let me flounder on my own.

“Andrew here was just admiring the pottery you were looking at,” Philip said with a sly grin, clapping me on the shoulder.

I shot him a look that I hoped conveyed my irritation, but he only smiled wider.

“Oh?” she said, glancing between me and the jar in her hand. “You have an eye for pottery?”

“I—uh, not really,” I admitted, feeling my face heat up again. “I was just... noticing... things.”

“Noticing things,” Thaddeus echoed with a chuckle. “Very specific.”

I glared at him this time, but it was no use. They were clearly having too much fun at my expense. I turned back to her, desperately trying to salvage whatever was left of my dignity.

“I’m Andrew,” I said, offering a hand. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just—uh, it’s nice to meet you.”

She smiled, taking my hand in hers, and I couldn’t help but notice how her grip was firm, confident. “It’s nice to meet you too, Andrew. I’m [Y/N].”

Her voice was calm, steady, and it had this way of making me feel like I was the only one she was focused on. I could hear Philip and Thaddeus snickering behind me, but I ignored them. For once, I didn’t want to be distracted by their teasing.

“So, do you live here in Capernaum?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation toward something normal.

“Not exactly,” she replied, setting the jar back down on the stall. “I’ve been traveling for a while. I’m not really sure how long I’ll be staying.”

Something about the way she said it made me want to ask more, to understand where she was from and what had brought her here. But I didn’t want to come off as too eager.

“Well, if you need anything while you’re here, we’re usually not too far from the market,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound like I was rambling.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, her smile widening slightly.

For a moment, we just stood there, and I couldn’t help but notice how easy it felt, despite the initial awkwardness. There was something about her that put me at ease, even though I was certain Philip and Thaddeus were both grinning like fools behind me.

Speaking of which, I could practically feel their eyes on me, waiting for me to say something else, or—worse—do something embarrassing. But, thankfully, [Y/N] didn’t seem fazed by their presence.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Andrew,” she said after a beat, her gaze softening a little. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, hoping I didn’t sound too eager. “I’ll see you around.”

She gave me one last smile before turning and walking back into the marketplace, leaving me standing there, feeling oddly dazed.

“Well, that went well,” Philip said, clapping me on the back again. “You didn’t trip over your words too much.”

“Could’ve been worse,” Thaddeus added with a grin.

I groaned, running a hand over my face. “Thanks for that, by the way. Really helpful.”

Philip shrugged, still smiling. “What are friends for?”

I shook my head, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. As much as their teasing got under my skin, part of me was grateful for it. If they hadn’t pushed me forward, I probably would’ve spent the rest of the day avoiding the whole thing.

“Do you think you’ll see her again?” Thaddeus asked as we began walking back toward the shore.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe. She said she’s not sure how long she’ll stay.”

“Well, if she does stick around, maybe next time you won’t need us to push you into talking,” Philip teased, elbowing me lightly.

I rolled my eyes, but the thought of seeing her again made my heart race a little. There was something about her—something that made me want to know more.

“Maybe,” I muttered, not wanting to give them more ammunition for their teasing. “We’ll see.”

As we walked away from the marketplace, I found myself glancing back, just once, hoping that maybe—just maybe—I’d get the chance to talk to her again.

[hazelcephalopod]

Alright so. I’ve had the experience of When Calls the Heart (Hallmark) bc my mom is watching it. Here’s my thoughts so far.

1- Idk if this show has a historical consultant. But if so whosever it’s is seems to have a policy of “show up when I want and say what I want”.

2- the most based take this show has had in 12? seasons is “Pinkerton’s suck”.

3- Every time something interesting almost happens it is over in moments.

4- a woman had chicken pox (it’s roughly 1912) and looked stunning the whole time.

5- truly. Plz. Let these people act! I’m falling asleep.

6- shout out to the first couple episodes of season 1 where things are actually happening, people get to act, and it feels like a better consultant is on set.

7- Did I mention that the historical accuracy is not very good? It’s not, but admittedly most of it is just ok the cusp of “that’s too early or skirting the edge or too early”. No wonder peoples view of the past is so skewed. That said it has started to get better, I can only assume whoever their consultant is care more about this or the upcoming era.

8- this series is based on a Christian book series. I find it very funny that despite this they have struggled to keep a pastor.

9- the cast history is hilarious. Here are the reasons—

A) the love interest character (a mounty) from the books, his actor wanted to leave so they just killed him and had no idea what to do with the main characters romance plot. So they just gave her two love interests and a baby. She has somehow convinced herself that she wants the lightly shady salon owner -btw I was so excited for him to be shadier but no, not really- and not the new mounty she’s clearly in love with. Also the new Mounties niece-daughter (adoption) has been shipping them since they met and adopted Mc as her new mom by force. Including only inviting her uncle/dad and MC to her adoption hearing.

b) remember that California college scandle a few years ago? The mom actress from that was one of the best actors and characters on the show. Bc of it they cut her out and removed her scenes abruptly and just did a voice over that she left. Oh this also meant the child actor playing her adopted son had to be cut. Poor kid. Also her character had like 3-5 love interests Thru the show.

c) the intermittent villain -whose villainy is frankly, deeply boring- is bacially main cast. He keep becoming good only to be a villain again. He’s sorta the bad boy more old pathetic wet man with high blood pressure faced with mortality. Possibly most interesting character on the show. I think he used to be in soap operas. For the first few seasons whenever I saw him I thought he was a different person. He was previous female characters (above) love interest and rival.

d) the sheriff used to be a mounty. He’s also the town judge -no training for that besides mounty, and also hates lawyers- and almost mayor. He hates all new things. He owned a cafe with the kicked off character (above) and was also her love interest, and also of course the above guys rival -they have sorta become friends since then. his actor used to play a major villain in at least one soap opera. (Aside I’ve decided rn to start shipping the old men)

10- the MC best friend had to leave -as she was the one written off due to the actress personal scandal- so they had to make the quirky mild problem character her new best friend. New best friend used to be MC dead husbands fiancé before they broke up bc it was not ever happening. She is the only character who speaks with a North Atlantic accent Bc she was a NY actress before moving back to the Canadian rockies(? Wherever they are), the actress kills it tbh -she was also the one who looked immaculate despite having chicken pox as an adult.

12. The costuming is spotty. Beginning? Excellent. Middle? Looks like it came from the macys catalogue of the current year. Recently? Slightly better depending on character. Tbh for a bit I thought maybe the actors were supplying their own costumes, so it really boiled down to how much each actor cared and how good at cosplay they were.

[likea-black-widow-baby]

What are your thoughts on Daniel Sousa?

Yes! I’m sorry it’s been so long Anon!

I love him. He’s so well written. I have a lot of thoughts about his arc in s1 of Agent Carter, and I’ve talked about a few of them before so I’ll just zoom in on one for now.

The way he reacts to Peggy’s “betrayal” is very telling. It really puts all his cards out on the table. I’ll try to lay it out chronologically.

1. Peggy Is “The Killer”

When Daniel first discovers that Peggy is the one the SSR has been chasing, his first reaction is, understandably, disbelief. What’s interesting is where that disbelief comes from. It probably comes from a few places: he’s been standing up for her, he feels betrayed by that. She has spent so long convincing everyone that she would never be Howard Stark’s lackey, but here she is, seemingly helping him commit treason. She’s killed someone— something which totally goes against the image of Peggy Daniel has in his head. There must be so much conflicting information in his head that he’s struggling to put it all together.

2. The conclusions he draws

With that information on the table, it’s fair that he feels betrayed. What makes his reaction more interesting though, and a bit more disappointing, is that he seems to take that disillusionment and uses it to reduce Peggy down to what the rest of the men think of her: that she’s just Howard’s puppet. It could be argued that he uses phrases like “Stark’s in so deep he’s scrambled your brain” as a way to provoke her into talking since he knows she hates being perceived that way. But I think a part of him believed it. Peggy wasn’t who she said she was, so why should her independence be any different?

3. He trusts her anyway

After all that, it’s truly astonishing that he still believes her when she presents what she knows to the SSR. It speaks very highly of his character that he’s still thinking clearly enough to weigh everything he knows about her and not just her recent betrayal when considering whether she’s telling the truth. Not to mention that Dooley and Thompson both look to Daniel for an impartial opinion even when they know he’s taken Peggy’s betrayal the hardest. He’s an excellent detective who is able to put his own feelings aside for the greater good.

So anon, here are some of my thoughts on Daniel Sousa! Hope you got what you came for, even if it’s a few weeks late 😅

[delicatenightfury]

Star of the Mountain Chapter 24

Warnings: fluff, angst, canon-level violence, spoilers for the Hobbit films

Pairing: OC x Thorin Oakenshield

Beta'd By: @mistys-blerbz

Author's Note: please do not steal my work! I do not own the Hobbit or the characters, but I do own my OCs and the parts of the plot that are not part of the movies. I have worked very hard on this fic. Please be respectful and do not steal.

Please comment, reblog, and like!

Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Pleasantries with Gandalf were short-lived. The wizard seemed very anxious and dove right into what he wished to say.

“You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves,” he said. “War is coming. The sepsis of Dolguldor have been emptied.” Thranduil cast a lazy look over at Bard, indicating that he was not truly taking the Grey Wizard seriously. “You’re all in mortal danger!”

“What are you talking about?” Bard asked.

“I can see you know nothing of wizards,” Thranduil replied before Gandalf could. The elven king stood to pour a glass of wine. “They are like winter thunder on a wild wind rolling in from the distance, breaking hard in alarm.” He handed Bard a glass. “But sometimes a storm is just a storm.”

“Not this time,” Gandalf said. “Armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters that have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength.”

“Gandalf,” Oreliell said, stepping forward slightly. “Are you sure of this?”

The wizard nodded gravely.

“I have seen them with my own eyes.”

“Why show his hand now?” Thranduil questioned.

“Because we forced him! We forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland. The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor.” He led the elves and human out of the tent to look at the mountain. “Azog the Defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control of the mountain. Not just for the treasure within but for where it lies, its strategic position. This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north. If that fell kingdom should rise again… Rivendell, Lórien, the Shire… even Gondor itself will fall.”

“These orcs armies you speak of, Mirthrandir, where are they?” Thranduil asked.

Gandalf sighed heavily, unable to give an answer. Thranduil rolled his eyes and returned to his tent. Oreliell and Vedis looked at Gandalf.

“Are you all right, Gandalf?” Oreliell asked quietly. He looked rather beaten up. “Perhaps you can have Vedis take a look at your wounds-”

“I am fine,” he said. “Truly. Besides, we have much larger things to worry about than a few cuts and bruises, don’t you think?” He paused and looked between them. “How is the company?”

Oreliell sighed.

“They are all alive. But the dragon sickness has taken root in Thorin’s mind.”

Gandalf nodded gravely.

“Then we must think of a way to get through to him.”

“Gandalf, I’ve tried. He is my One and even I struggled to speak with him.”

“I understand. Nevertheless, we mustn’t give up.”

Oreliell smiled a little.

“You’re crazier than I thought to believe I would give up.”

Gandalf smiled back at her before returning to the tent. Vedis placed a comforting hand on Oreliell’s arm.

“All will be well, muinthel.”

Oreliell nodded and followed her sister to the tent. Gandalf was back to trying to convince Thranduil.

“Since when has my council counted for so little?” he asked. “What do you think I’m trying to do?”

“I think you’re trying to save your dwarvish friends. And I admire your loyalty to them. But it does not dissuade me from my course.” Thranduil rose from his chair. “You started this, Mirthrandir. You will forgive me if I finish it.” Oreliell exchanged glances with her sister as Thranduil approached one of his guards. “Are the archers in position?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Give the order. If anything moves on that mountain, kill it. The dwarves are out of time.”

Gandalf stormed out of the tent, clearly angered. Oreliell looked at the elven king, who still stared out at the mountain.

“You said that you would attack at dawn,” Oreliell said. “Would you be so heartless as to shoot while they are not expecting it?”

“They have been given their warning,” Thranduil said.

“And what about the warning Gandalf has given you? We have traveled many months with him. If what he says about the orcs is true, then I think we must at least consider his words.”

“Oreliell.” She glanced over her shoulder at her sister, only to realize that Vedis was no longer standing there. “You’ll never believe who just showed up.”

A moment later, Vedis entered the tent with Bard, Gandalf, and Bilbo in tow.

“Bilbo,” Oreliell said with a smile.

“I’m glad to see you’re all right, Oreliell,” Bilbo said.

“Who is this?” Thranduil said.

“Bilbo Baggins, the official burglar of the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

“If I’m not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards.”

Thranduil sat down in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly at Bilbo. The hobbit shuffled in place.

“Yes,” he said under his breath. “Sorry about that.” Oreliell glanced at Vedis, who was also smiling. They watched as the hobbit stepped forward, pulling something out of his pocket. “I came to give you this.”

He placed the item on the table and pulled away the cloth. Everyone stared in shock and awe.

“Oh my gosh,” Vedis murmured.

“The Heart of the Mountain,” Thranduil breathed, standing slowly. “The King’s Jewel.”

“And worth a king’s ransom,” Bard said. He looked down at Bilbo. “How is this yours to give?”

“I took it as my fourteenth share of the treasure.”

Oreliell almost laughed in disbelief. She was stunned by his courage. But she couldn’t help but worry about what Thorin might do if he found out.

“Why would you do this?” Bard asked. “You owe us no loyalty.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” Bilbo told them. “I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult. They’re suspicious and secretive, with the worst manners you could possibly imagine. But they are also brave and kind and loyal to a fault. I’ve grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can. Now, Thorin values this stone above all else.” Oreliell noticed that he glanced her way. “In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you are owed. There will be no need for war.”

Oreliell glanced at the two leaders. Bard turned to Thranduil, still in shock at the hobbit’s actions. Thranduil looked at him for a moment before looking back at Bilbo.

“We will take this into careful consideration,” Thranduil said. “Someone will show you a place to rest for the night.”

Bilbo nodded. Gandalf ushered him toward the entrance, but the halfling suddenly stopped.

“I nearly forgot!” he said. He turned around and pulled a sheath far too large for his body. He handed them to Oreliell. “You left your swords back at the mountain. I figured you’d want them back.”

Oreliell looked down at the swords then at Bilbo. She was surprised that he had noticed and that he had brought them with him to give to her. She put her hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Bilbo. You did not have to do that, but I greatly appreciate it.”

Bilbo smiled at her then stepped out of the tent with Gandalf. Oreliell looked back at her blades. She had not really realized that she had left them in the mountain; her haste to leave made it slip her mind. But Bilbo had brought back both her swords and her pair of daggers.

“He is a brave hobbit,” Vedis commented.

“Yes. Much different from when we first met him. I just hope he stays safe tomorrow if war breaks out.”

Vedis put her hand on Oreliell’s shoulder. The two exchanged small smiles.

“The halfling is quite impressive,” Thranduil said, regaining their attention. 

“Indeed he is. You also need better guards,” Oreliell replied, barely casting him a glance.

She heard Bard half choke on a laugh, but he tried to cover it with a cough. Oreliell smiled to herself. She didn’t need to look at Thranduil to know his eyes had narrowed. 

“I noticed that both of you are without armor. If you are interested, I can provide both of you with sets for tomorrow.”

Oreliell wanted to roll her eyes. She wanted to ask why on earth he thought they would need armor if they were going to confront Thorin. But she knew better.

An army of orcs were on the way.

And she recalled something Thorin had told her long ago: “never underestimate dwarves.” She hated to come before the man she loved dressed for battle, but she wasn’t sure what kind of plan he had come up with to handle Thranduil’s army.

Oreliell sighed and glanced at Thranduil. She nodded.

“Then I shall make sure that you have it.”

He stepped aside to deliver the orders to one of his guards. Bard looked at the Arkenstone then at the sisters.

“What do you make of it?” he asked. “The stone.”

“Bilbo is right about it,” Oreliell said after a moment. “Thorin craves this stone more than anything. It is sacred to the dwarven people, the crowning glory and symbol of their house and power. Thorin will not be pleased to see it in your hands.”

“Our hands? Would you not carry this?”

“I barely want to look at it,” she admitted. “That rock has taken away more from me in the past few days than I ever wanted to lose. And that says a lot, for I have lost much in my long lifetime. Simply seeing me siding with you will create a reaction. I do not want Thorin to think that I have betrayed him further by taking that stone.”

Bard nodded.

“I understand. I shall speak with Thranduil to see what we shall do with it.”

“Before we get to that,” Thranduil said as he stepped back inside the tent, “I would like to have a word with Oreliell.”

Bard glanced at her before going outside. Vedis stayed a minute longer. She studied Thranduil for a long moment before looking at her sister.

“I will go inspect the armor we are being given. If you would like, I can take your swords with me?” she said. 

“Thank you,” Oreliell said, passing her blades over.

“Let me know if you need me.”

“I will, muinthel.” 

Vedis nodded and stepped out. Oreliell took a breath before looking at Thranduil. The elven king had remained standing and was watching her.

“{You risk a lot going with us tomorrow,}” Thranduil said after a long moment. “{Why do it?}”

“{Because I have already lost so much. And I do not wish to lose my betrothed as well.}”

“{Even after everything he has put you through?}”

“{Do not pretend you know him better than I do.}”

Thranduil motioned for her to follow him. They stepped outside once again to look at the mountain. The braziers were lit above the gate, but otherwise everything appeared normal. Oreliell couldn’t help but wonder what was going on inside.

“I want you to know that I truly do not want this,” Thranduil said. “While the heirlooms of my people are of great importance to me, this was not the outcome I had hoped for. I tried to avoid this when your company passed through my kingdom, but Thorin turned me down.”

“Because he still holds a grudge against you for what you did when Smaug first took the mountain. Or rather, what you didn’t do.”

Thranduil sighed. He turned to look at her.

“I want you to understand what it is you are risking going into this, what this could potentially do to you if things do not go smoothly tomorrow.”

“I am well aware what could happen, Thranduil. And that is why I must be present tomorrow. If something were to happen to Thorin, I would never be able to live with myself. I will protect Thorin with my very life.” She looked at the mountain again. “No matter what happens to me, he will live.”

[whoreologium]

Lupin's Baby Sister

As the group sought shelter from the storm, Lupin led them to a secluded safehouse nestled in the French countryside. His usual carefree demeanor was still present, but there was something more serious, almost anxious, about him as they approached the small cottage.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Lupin said, though his voice was unusually tight. He guided them inside with quick, purposeful steps, eyes darting around as if he expected danger at every turn.

Impey was the first to notice. "What’s with the nerves, Lupin? You’re acting like someone’s going to jump out at us."

Lupin forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Nothing of the sort. Just... be respectful when I take you inside."

The group shared puzzled glances but followed him through the house until they reached a room tucked away in the back. Lupin hesitated at the door, his hand lingering on the knob. For a moment, it seemed as though he was struggling with something. Then, with a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

Inside, lying in a soft bed, was a young woman—pale, delicate, and clearly unwell. She stirred as they entered, her gentle eyes opening to reveal a look of confusion.

"Brother?" she whispered weakly, her voice soft as a feather.

Everyone froze. Cardia blinked in surprise, her voice just above a whisper. "Lupin, is this...?"

"My sister," Lupin replied quietly, his usual charm replaced with an unmistakable tenderness. He moved quickly to her side, kneeling by the bed and taking her hand in his. "You shouldn’t be up. You need to rest."

The frail woman smiled at him, though it was weak. "I heard voices... I didn’t know you had company."

"You don’t need to worry about that," Lupin said, his voice dropping to a soft murmur as he adjusted the blanket around her. "I’ll handle everything."

Victor stepped forward, his brow furrowed in concern. "Lupin, if she’s unwell, I could help. Maybe I could—"

But Lupin immediately shot up, shielding his sister from Victor’s approach with a protective arm. "No. Don’t get too close." His usual playfulness was gone, replaced with a stern protectiveness. "She’s fragile. I don’t want anyone overwhelming her."

Victor hesitated, not used to seeing Lupin so defensive. "I won’t do anything to harm her. Let me just take a look—"

Lupin’s eyes narrowed. "I can take care of her myself, thank you very much. I’ve been doing it for years."

His sister gave a soft chuckle, reaching up to brush Lupin’s cheek. "You worry too much, brother. I’m not as delicate as you think."

"That’s what you always say," Lupin replied with a small, fond smile as he leaned into her touch. "But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop worrying."

Impey, never one to hold back his surprise, finally spoke up. "Wait a minute, you have a sister? And she’s been here this whole time?"

"Yes," Lupin replied curtly, his eyes still on his sister. "But I don’t tell people about her for a reason."

Cardia stepped forward carefully, her voice gentle. "Lupin, it’s alright. We’re not here to intrude, but Victor can help. He’s treated so many people before."

Lupin sighed, glancing at his sister, whose weak smile had only grown more tired. "I know, but..." He looked back at Victor, his tone softer but still filled with hesitation. "She’s all I have left. I can’t risk anything happening to her."

Victor’s expression softened with understanding. "I won’t do anything without her consent. But I can at least make her more comfortable. Please, let me help."

Lupin glanced down at his sister, and her gentle nod was all it took for him to relent. "Alright," he murmured, his tone reluctant but accepting. "But only if she says it’s okay."

"I trust you, brother," she whispered, giving him a reassuring smile. "Let him try."

With a deep breath, Lupin stepped aside but remained hovering close, watching every move Victor made as he assessed her condition. Victor was careful and respectful, moving with the grace of someone who understood the weight of Lupin’s protectiveness.

"I can relieve her symptoms for now," Victor said softly after his examination. "But to find a cure... I’ll need more time, more information. With your permission, I’d like to start right away."

Lupin hesitated, his heart clearly torn between his desire to protect his sister and his hope that maybe, just maybe, there could be a way to truly help her. He glanced at her again, her tired eyes meeting his, full of love and trust.

"Do it," Lupin finally said, his voice quiet but filled with determination. "But you’ll let me know everything you’re doing. No surprises."

Victor nodded, his tone equally serious. "You have my word."

As Victor set to work preparing a remedy, Lupin returned to his sister’s side, his hand brushing her hair back gently. "You’ll be alright," he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "I’ll make sure of it."

His sister’s eyes fluttered closed, her expression peaceful as she settled back into her pillow. "You’re always taking care of me..."

"And I always will," Lupin said softly, his voice filled with unwavering resolve.

The rest of the group watched in quiet awe, surprised by the tender, coddling side of Lupin that they had never seen before. For all his wit and charm, his heart was clearly tied to the fragile young woman in the bed, and in that moment, they saw just how fiercely he loved her.

[leonsrightlations]

The Earth is Online Chapter 12

The big mole ground its sharp claws against the head of the enormous match. With a snap, a spark flickered on the scarlet match head. Quickly, a flaming blaze engulfed the entire match. The big mole placed the match on the ground and used its long claws to grab the huge turkey and place it on the flame to roast.

Lin Qiao went to the corner to help the chef up. She raised her head and said, “He’s okay, just unconscious.”

Tang Mo and Li Wen helped Li Bin up.

Aside from the chef who was unconscious and wouldn’t wake up, the six remaining people sat to one side, far away from the big mole.

However, the underground cavern was only so big. Even if they sat as far away as possible, the crackling sound of the burning match and the appetizing, enticing scent of turkey both unavoidably drifted over.

Bright grease flowed little by little from the turkey meat, dripping at last into the raging flame. Tang Mo had never smelled such an enticing scent before. No seasoning had been used at all. It was purely turkey roasted over a match. The appetizing scent unique to meat drilled into all of their nostrils.

The giant match illuminated the cavern, allowing everyone to see that turkey even more clearly. It was scorched a glossy yellow color, the outside skin a bit charred. As a result of the crackling flame, the outer skin was roasted even more wrinkled and crisp. Even if they were unable to put it in their mouths, they could all imagine how delicious it was.

Everybody swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

The match burned to ashes and the turkey was already roasted. The big mole sat cross-legged on the ground, its small eyes gleaming. Those sharp claws and massive, pointed teeth suppressed the urge of the six people to snatch the turkey. From a distance, Tang Mo watched the big mole take a bite of turkey. The instant it ate the turkey, its expression turned incomparably soft.

“Turkey that has been roasted using Mosaic’s match really is the most delicious thing in the world. I’ve never told anyone this. This is the happiest Thanksgiving Day I’ve ever had.”

The big mole used its teeth to tear at the turkey meat, paying absolutely no attention to those humans who sat in the distance, continuously gulping saliva.

With the mole like this, Tang Mo and the others had no way to complain. The six people were still clear-headed. Among them, Tang Mo could be counted as having the highest combat power. But even if it was him and he did his best to make use of that cheap book, in this situation of having only collected one ability, if he used his ability to unleash a sneak attack, it could be blocked by the other party’s claw. He’d also been robbed of the match to be used as fuel to roast the turkey.

The big mole’s facial expression was full of pleasure. Six people’s stomachs rumbled loudly.

After the big mole ate a drumstick, its mood seemed joyful. Biting into the other drumstick, it mumbled, “Why do you have Mosaic’s match?”

Suddenly being questioned by the other, Tang Mo was a little startled. Calmly, he said, “Previously…I unfortunately met her once.”

The big mole “oh’d” once. “Did Xiao Mosaic commit arson or murder this time? Actually, she’s an obedient, sensible little girl. Her hobbies are just a bit special. You must also feel that she’s very cute, right?”

Tang Mo: “...” To sum up, this felt like a life-threatening question.

Between his small life and his conscience, Tang Mo ruthlessly picked the former.

“She’s really very cute,” he said with a wooden face.

The big mole nodded. “She is. She’s as cute as me.”

Tang Mo: “...”

Everyone: “...”

Whatever makes you happy.

The big mole finished eating the other drumstick and began to eat a wing. It moved extremely quickly. Almost in the blink of an eye, its sharp claws picked out the wing bone. Tang Mo’s pupils shrank. According to this speed, it absolutely should be as easy as turning over a hand [1] for the big mole to kill the seven of them. Then, when it had been struggling for a while just now, don’t tell me…it was playing?

The big mole dim-wittedly ate the turkey, unaware that Tang Mo had been thinking about it and that his whole body was on guard. On one side, it ate meat. On the other side, it vaguely said, “This time I really must thank you for the match. Mosaic’s match is the best fuel for roasting turkey, but this little girl isn’t sensible. She says she needs the match to set fires and is never willing to give me one.”

Tang Mo reminded, “Just now, you said she was an obedient and sensible little girl.”

The big mole touched its head. “I said that? I don’t remember.” It quickly changed the subject. “To speak according to common sense, you guys shouldn’t be attacking the tower at this time. Mosaic’s match is very good to use as a weapon. It can accompany you to survive the second floor. It’s also barely enough to cope with those disgusting bugs on the third floor. I’m really lucky, ah. Meeting all of you sooner means I get to enjoy my turkey sooner. Ah, praise to the Black Tower! Happy Thanksgiving!”

Tang Mo was watching the big mole carefully when, suddenly, his hand was lightly bumped by someone else. He turned to look. Luo Fengcheng mouthed: Question it. [2]

Tang Mo had already intended to do so. Taking advantage of the opportunity made by the big mole’s good mood, he casually questioned, “We shouldn’t be attacking the tower at this time?”

The big mole ate meat and nodded, “With your current level, how many of you have awakened abilities? If this was the first floor’s normal mode, all of you would die the moment you entered, to the point where you can’t even get to my cave. Those earthworms [3] up there could just bite you all to death.”

Luo Fengcheng grabbed onto the keywords. “Ability? Normal mode?”

The big mole only answered the last question. “That’s right. Aren’t you all playing idiot mode right now?”

The idiots: “...”

Indeed, it seemed that the Black Tower had said at the start that this was the first floor’s idiot mode…

The turkey had already been half-eaten. Tang Mo glanced at its remains. Even though he wanted to know more about the subject of abilities, right now he had something even more important that he wanted to know.

“Mole…Uncle Mole, in the end, what is attacking the tower?”

“Attacking the tower is attacking the tower. You all currently can’t attack the tower. It’s only because a stowaway reached the level of attacking the tower that all of you were forcibly pulled into the game by him.” Its voice suddenly paused, and the big mole lapped at the grease on its claws. “Hey, shouldn’t I also be grateful to that stowaway? If not for him opening the game in advance, none of you could have entered. If you guys couldn’t enter, I also couldn’t eat such a delicious turkey. But he’s a stowaway…”

Tang Mo asked, “What’s a stowaway?”

The big mole suddenly raised its head, a gleam flashing through its eyes.

“A stowaway is someone who didn’t participate in a Black Tower game but used some other method to log into the Black Tower. They are all the most hateful, vile people. If I can grab one and eat them up, I can get formidable power. I like to eat stowaways the most. Their meat is both savory and tender. Additionally, they contain formidable power. Every single stowaway possesses an ability!”

The six people exchanged glances. Even the young woman, the youngest of them, understood that ‘people who have logged into the Black Tower’ probably referred to them who had survived and hadn’t disappeared.

Hearing this, Tang Mo’s scalp felt numb, but he still maintained his calm.

“Then what method did they use to log into the Black Tower?”

The big mole’s teeth rubbed up and down, creating an ear-piercing sound. “Altogether, there are three ways to enter the Black Tower. The three ways result in three kinds of identities - official players, reserve players, and stowaways. Official players are those who participated in a Black Tower game within three days, gained victory, and obtained the Black Tower’s official recognition. 

“Reserve players are those who didn’t participate in a Black Tower game in three days, but participated in another game and also obtained a certain degree of the Black Tower’s approval. Reserve players only need to win a Black Tower game later on to be promoted to official players.

“Finally, we still have them, my favorite stowaways…”

The big mole swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

“Stowaways are those who, within those three days, eliminated another player by committing a crime. [4] Before the game officially started, every human being was a hidden player. By eliminating at least one hidden player, you could log into the Black Tower. The elimination method…” The big mole raised those tiny, shrewd eyes, “...was not at all limited to playing a game. Committing a crime is also ‘eliminating a player,’ you know.”

Tang Mo’s heart fiercely clutched once before he quickly resumed tranquility.

He recalled the first stowaway he had met.

Qian Sankun, that thief. Tang Mo originally thought that the two of them were the same, that they had experienced a bizarre game and finally survived as the victor. In that ability book, Qian Sankun’s name had the word “stowaway” after it. Tang Mo had never understood it, but he hadn’t thought it had this kind of meaning…

The big mole began to eat the turkey’s breast meat. As it crunched and bit, it vaguely said, “What a pity that stowaway didn’t come to my place, or I could eat him… A stowaway capable of opening the tower attack game this soon should be so delicious! If I eat him, I can get some power!”

The big mole regretfully said, “Every official player and stowaway definitely has awakened an ability. The probability of a reserve player awakening an ability is a little lower… I really want to eat up that stowaway, ah…”

The big mole again swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

Tang Mo and the others didn’t dare imagine the scene of living people being eaten, but what the big mole had said just now already gave them a distinct outline of the world of the Black Tower.

Only four hundred million people survived in the whole world. They were divided into three types - official players, reserve players, and stowaways. Reserve players might possess an ability, while official players and stowaways definitely did. Tang Mo was one such official player, possessing that cheap book. Qian Sankun was one such stowaway, possessing the ability to store items in his body.

At the moment, they had no idea what proportion of the three types of players was higher. It might be official players and it might be reserve players. But it was absolutely not possible for it to be stowaways.

Even if the scope was extended to the whole world, those who had committed a crime in those three days’ time couldn’t exceed ten million.

If the stowaways were few in number, then were there more official players or reserve players?

Tang Mo inexplicably felt that it was possible the official players like him were also fewer in number. At least among the seven of them, there were four who definitely hadn’t participated in a Black Tower game.

The big mole began to eat the last bit of breast meat. “It really is a pity. Has that stowaway who opened the tower attack game already been swallowed whole? [5] Why didn’t he come to my place? Such a delicious stowaway… I really want to eat one, too…”

Finished eating the last mouthful of turkey, the big, full-to-bursting mole rubbed its plump belly. The aroma of turkey still permeated the air. Everyone sucked in a few mouthfuls, consoling themselves by smelling the turkey’s scent.

The big mole was no exception. It used its scarlet nose to sniff unceasingly at the air.

Gradually, the aroma of turkey dissipated.

A clear childlike voice sounded in the ears of Tang Mo and the others -

[Ding dong! Completed the side mission: Roast a turkey for the cute Uncle Mole.]

Everyone simultaneously released a breath of air.

Right at that moment, they heard a weird, sharp laugh. The big mole opened its tiny eyes wide and its shrewd, piercing gaze swept over everyone present. It gurgled as it laughed, and nobody knew why it was making such a monstrous noise.

The sound was like fingernails scraping on glass, giving everyone goosebumps and making the hairs all over their body stand on end.

Then everyone heard it use an excited and oppressive voice to say, “What did I find? Just now it was concealed by the turkey’s scent. Unexpectedly, I only now noticed that among your group of seven humans, there are two official players, four reserve players…and one stowaway! My Black Tower, why are you so good to me today? I'm going to eat this stowaway! I'm going to eat them! [6] Happy Thanksgiving!”

[Ding dong! The second side mission has been triggered: Find that damn stowaway!]

[PREV] [TOC] [NEXT]

Character Refresher:

Li Bin (李彬), 29, male, works at a PR firm.

Peng Yu Wen (彭玉雯), 18, female, first year of university. Small, looks like a junior high student.

Tang Mo (唐陌), 23, male, librarian. Our protagonist! :D

Li Wen (黎文), 25, male, unemployed. A foolishly sweet second generation whose Maserati is now destroyed.

Lin Qiao (林巧), 20, female, university student.

Zhao Xiang (赵翔), 32, male, former chef. Spent this chapter unconscious. (x_x)

Luo Fengcheng (洛风城), 28, game designer. Wears glasses and looks refined.

Uncle Mole (鼹鼠叔叔), a cute mole with a big appetite. ^_^

Translation Notes:

[1] 易如反掌 - idiom literally meaning as easy as turning a hand, the closest English equivalent would be “as easy as lifting a finger.”

[2] What he actually mouths is 套话 (taohua) which is like to sneakily get information out of someone. That’s an unreasonably long sentence to mouth in English, so I tried to shorten it as much as possible…

[3] This is inconsequential, but I got unreasonably excited about it. The specific word he uses for earthworm is 地龙 (dilong) which literally means ‘earth dragon’ in simplified Chinese. On the other hand, a mole is 土竜 (mogura) in Japanese, which literally means ‘dirt dragon.’ They are brothers……………….

[4] That is to say, they killed another player. I have a hard time figuring out if this is a change from the original to the print version or if the word 犯罪 just has an embedded euphemistic meaning. It literally means to commit a crime. I don’t know why it wouldn’t just directly say ‘killing’ since the text definitely hasn’t shied away from that before. *shrugs*

[5] I’m not sure if this is a joke or not but Uncle Mole seems to be misusing/literally applying an idiom (生吞活剥, to swallow whole) that means…to thoughtlessly/mechanically regurgitate knowledge. Like quoting someone famous out of context. Or like…misusing an idiom………. My grasp of the language is super not strong enough to definitively say if this is the right interpretation of this line or not. ._. But it’s kind of funny if so.

[6] Masculine 他 is used here, which is the default for when you don't know someone's gender. I’m going to use ‘them’ to refer to the stowaway in the cave from this point onward, because their identity (and gender) is unknown.

Lesser translation note: I had a hard time writing out an explanation for the specific grammar point that I struggle with so I will just show you a venn diagram of the problem instead:

(If you snitch on me to my sensei about my sloppy msp character writing with a mouse you are banned forever from my heart.)

In this sentence, the word 要 is used, which I translate as ‘I’m going to’ because in English it has the same kind of sense of ‘intending/desiring to do something strongly but without the certainty of a scheduled event.’ Like there’s a difference between ‘I will go there now *goes there now*’ and ‘I’m gonna beat the crap out of him *merely desires to beat the crap out of him; may not actually beat the crap out of him*.’ Anyway, this is a problem that plagues me eternally, not just here, but I thought I’d mention it. (And don’t even get me started on ‘can’ vs. ‘may.’)

Sorry for the late chapter!!! Hopefully it won't happen again but also my life is at a bit of a crossroads atm so there's a high chance I may have to do a brief, planned hiatus at some point in the coming months.

[skythesnake]

Afraid of Love - Book 1 of the Soulmate series

Chapter 2

Natasha was in pure awe. The girl she saw standing in front of her was goddess level beautiful. Is… this what having a soulmate feels like? Natasha still didn’t know the girl’s name, but she felt her face heat and the rest of the world seemed to fade around the girl timidly standing in the doorway of the lunchroom, trying to figure out where she should sit. She cleared her throat and forced herself to look away. It took her longer than she would have liked to admit to realize the entire room had quieted. The poor girl looked terrified. Alex stood up and walked over, taking the girl’s arm and gently guiding her to their empty table. Natasha’s mind scattered, thoughts felt sluggish and too fast all at once and she couldn’t make sense of any of them. Alex sat the girl next to Natasha and then took her seat next to Lee. Natasha didn’t catch any of the friendly words Alex and Lee threw out. She just had to focus on quieting her mind. Not noticing the fact that the tanktop the girl wore was in her favorite shade of purple. Not noticing the way her golden hair was perfectly braided in a thick braid thrown over shoulder. 

“Um… my name is Calliope. I use She/Her pronouns…” Her voice was soft and smooth and it helped to bring Natasha out of her panicked thoughts. Alex’s voice came back into focus.

“That’s a pretty name! This is my friend Natasha. Also She/Her pronouns, not really sure what’s wrong with her. Probably just had a bad day.” She didn’t trust herself to speak so she just nodded and gave Calliope an apologetic smile. Calliope nodded and went back to quietly eating her food. Now that she’d been brought out of whatever the hell her brain had just gone through, she could think much more clearly and couldn’t understand what had just happened. She mentally shrugged and finished her food. She was almost sure now that Calliope wasn’t her soulmate. There was no feeling of connection, no certainty that this girl was “the right one”. Maybe they could be friends though.

. . .

I have never been the talkative sort. My entire life, I’ve been extremely shy, and my parents uprooting my entire life to move to the bigger town definitely didn’t help things. Of the thousand and one ways I had worried today would go, another girl who hadn’t told anyone her soulmate wasn’t one of them.  In hindsight, it probably should have been. My hometown was much smaller and even there, kids were known not to share their soulmate's name until they were about 20 - the legalized adult age. It shouldn't have been too much of a stretch to think the same might be here. It's a town bigger than any I'd traveled to before; I didn't know what to expect. After I denied the first several people to ask who my soulmate was, people stopped asking. Before the school day even started, I was labeled as ‘other’. So much for that fresh start Father had promised me. The first class was a little slice of hell. The teacher was nice, sure, but they had called me to the front of the class to introduce myself. I stuttered my way through my name and pronouns, but then stopped, unsure of what else to say. Mx. Green smiled warmly at me and told me I could go back to my seat. The students didn’t seem to hate or ridicule me all that much, but I still felt my face heat as I sat down, sure I’d made a fool of myself at this school. Again. The worst of it was lunchtime. I struggled to find the cafeteria, and when I did, I seemed to be the last person there. I stood in the entryway, trying to figure out where to sit, unconsciously shrinking into myself. My eyes darted around the room to find one friendly face. One person I hadn’t met or seen today that might not hate me. A girl with strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes stood and gently took my arm in her hand. She led me over to her table, mostly empty aside from a boy with short black hair, buzzed on the sides, and a very pretty girl with dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks. The first girl introduced herself as Alex, She/Her pronouns, and smiled at me warmly. The boy introduced himself as Lee, He/Him pronouns. Apparently, the two were soulmates. They looked expectantly at the second girl who was dutifully eating her food and pointedly not looking at me. Had she heard about me already and the other two had not? Was she about to look up and expose my strangeness? Did she hate me already? But no, she seemed to not notice me, nor her friends looking at her. So I introduced myself

“Um… my name is Calliope. I use She/Her pronouns…” I had meant it to sound more cool and confident, but it had come out as more of a timid mutter. Alex seemed to hear me anyway since she smiled at me again.

“That’s a pretty name! This is my friend Natasha. Also She/Her pronouns, not really sure what’s wrong with her. Probably just had a bad day.” The girl - Natasha - looked up then. She didn’t say anything, just nodded slightly and smiled apologetically at me. As if by instinct, I nodded at her, then went back to eating. Try as I might, I could not stop worrying about her. Her purposefully blank face arose in my mind again and again, no matter how many times I tried to banish it. I sighed inwardly and did my best to keep my anxiety off my face for the rest of the day.

[lonelier-version-of-you]

It’s taken me long enough to write up my thoughts on the latest two Casualty episodes, but I’m finally doing it now, and hey, late is better than never.

S37E34 “Separation”:

This was an excellent episode!! Probably one of my favourites from this series so far - and I liked it all the better, of course, for not having any scenes with Faith. (It was very good in its own right, though, even putting aside the relief of getting a break from Faith.)

Oh, Jacob, Jacob, Jacob. I wish I could give him a hug. :( His storyline is being brilliantly done, but it’s nonetheless very sad to see him struggling so much. Especially with how he’s avoiding therapy and others’ support. I tend to relate a lot to characters who are traumatised but don’t want help because they don’t think they deserve it, so... yeah.

Charles Venn’s performances have been absolutely wonderful throughout this entire storyline, but I thought he was especially outstanding in this episode. In particular, the moment between Jacob and Billie where she wanted him to kiss her, and Jacob hesitated - as though he clearly didn’t want to (well, I suppose more like he did want to but wasn’t quite ready, but hopefully you know what I mean anyway), but he made himself kiss her anyway. Some beautifully subtle acting there. And again, it shows very well how Tina has affected Jacob mentally - I’m sure Billie would have been fine if Jacob had said no, but he felt like he had to. That it was what he “should” do. (I think one could parallel/contrast this, as well, to the scene in Ethan’s last ep where Jacob went on the date with - May, I think her name was? And he panicked and left.)

I could write whole essays about this storyline and everything Jacob’s going through at the moment, and I think I probably will, but I’ll wait until after the next ep.

The plot device of Jacob running into Billie on a shout felt like something that could’ve easily seemed forced into the episode, but it worked out very very well! Billie seems really nice in general, but sadly, I have a feeling their relationship won’t go well. Jacob’s not emotionally ready for a relationship right now IMO - well, I think he could make a go of it, but he needs support and therapy too, not just another romance, that by itself isn’t going to help him - and I think on some level or another he knows that. Which is part of what makes this all so sad. :(

The Max and Jodie storyline is still very interesting to me, and I’m really enjoying their scenes together! Maybe part of why I like it so much is that it, and Max in general to some extent, makes me think of Henrik - a consultant doctor who walked out on his daughter/son respectively, and now their dynamic is strained because of it. Although I like to think things will turn out happier for Max and Jodie.

The patient storylines were very good. I particularly liked the storyline about the two sisters.

The Dylan and Donna scenes were great - well, when aren’t they?! I don’t have a lot to say about those, but yeah, I’m still very pleased Donna came over to Casualty and that they’ve made her friends with Dylan. :)

And it turns out Ryan - or Harry Tressler 2.0 as I’ve been jokingly calling him in my mind - is bi! Good for him, and it’s nice to have representation. Ryan’s my least favourite of this nurse quartet for his personality (I mean, him spreading rumours about Jodie hasn’t been exactly endearing him to me!), but I am glad to have some more queer rep anyway. And maybe I’m taking things a bit far by thinking of him as “Harry Tressler 2.0″, because Ryan’s had moments where I quite like him (like the one in this ep, when he’s basically like “oh, I like men, I just don’t like you”), and I don’t think there’s been any moments where I’ve liked Harry Tressler (unless I’m forgetting some).

S37E35 “Deliverance”:

I like that this one happens to have the same title as one of my favourite CHVRCHES songs! And it was a pretty good episode in general, too, though I liked it less than “Separation” because this one did have Faith in it. :/

The Jacob comedy stuff was alright, but it feels a bit odd because most of his storyline recently has been so serious. Having said that, I loved the little moment of him dancing! That was adorable.

Di Botcher was great in this episode. I just wanted to acknowledge that - she’s a brilliant actress. I hope Jan and Ffion reunite eventually, though!

The Max and Jodie stuff is still good, but I feel like Jodie’s maybe having too much drama too quickly. I’d like to see Cam and Rida get some dramatic storylines, so that Jodie’s scenes can focus just on the storyline with Max for a while, rather than having these other big stories as well. Having said that, Jodie reminds me somewhat of Gemma Wilde, who had some big dramatic storylines soon after she arrived too and got a lot of great scenes out of it (S15 E20 “Unravelled” is one of my favourite episodes about dealing with trauma that Holby ever did). So idk.

Speaking of Cam, the whole thing with him having a crush on Jodie makes me think of Arthur’s crush on Chantelle in Holby. Has anyone else been thinking that too? It is a bit different though, as Arthur and Chantelle never lived together, as far as I can remember!! But yeah, I keep kind of expecting Cam to make a mixtape for Jodie like Arthur did, lol.

A Ryan/Jodie romance could be interesting. I have no idea where their storyline will go, so I’m very intrigued to see what comes of it.

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

The End of Year Movie Roundup You Didn't Know You Wanted (And Don't)

Crikey Mc Crikington IV! It’s been an interesting couple of years in the world of movies and TV, hasn’t it? Ever since 2016, it’s felt like good movies and TV shows are rare gems bobbing around in a sea of filth, never getting the attention they deserve and then disappearing back into the undifferentiated swill of garbage. It’s not that good stuff hasn’t been getting made- it’s just that it’s been struggling in a landscape dominated by absolute, reeking arse. But since, ooh, the latter part of 2022 to now, things feel a bit different, don’t they? It seems like the good stuff has been gaining ground; that- for a change- neither the alt-right, froth-mouthed dicks or the woke-washed virtue-signalling shitheads are winning the culture war. Instead, actual culture seems to be winning. Fancy fucking that. Of course, when I say ‘culture’, I don’t necessarily mean high culture. Nope. I’m talkin’ ‘bout that sweeeeet pop and pulp culture, y’all! Of course, there’s been a fair amount of blithering crap, too, but with the companies that push it (mainly Disney) haemorrhaging money like someone stabbed a bank, most of it feels increasingly irrelevant. So, I’m going to use this blog to deliver capsule reviews of the things that- to me- exemplify the best of last couple of years of pop culture, meaning some cack will make it into the mix. They’re not in chronological order or anything, by the way (though I have stuck the films ahead of the TV series). They’re just in the order that I felt like writing about them. Oh, boohoo, cry me a fucking river- it’s not like you pay for this shit.

John Wick Chapter 4 You’d think watching Keanu Reeves get thrown down stairs and off tall objects would eventually get old but, for some reason, it really, really doesn’t. The John Wick films are truly excellent pieces of cinema and have been from the start. Aside from being incredibly satisfying, violent, gritty revenge movies with fight choreography that would give Ghandi a hardon, they’re also beautiful, intricate exercises in subtle, intelligent world-building in which just a few key words or phrases- or a carefully-selected symbolic object- can pack an enormous amount of information into a few seconds. Oh, and they’re contemplations on the nature of honour and consequences that somehow transcend and act as a comment upon the genre of their birth without ever feeling like a trite condemnation or deconstruction of it. The fourth part does an excellent job of tying the series-thus-far together and providing a meaningful conclusion, which also happens to come loaded with some of the most brilliantly inventive action sequences of any movie from the past fifty years, a sound-track to die for and set-dressing to fucking drool over. No, it won’t be the last one of these- the films make too much money to just bury after four, despite the very final ending- but I appreciate that the movie treats itself as a finale and actually pays off and ties up all the storylines we’ve so far encountered. It’s nice to see a movie that acts like a movie rather than a mere episode of something; that has the panache to commit to the pretence of to its own myth-making. Easily one of my favourite flicks for a good, long time.

Smile Have I reviewed this before? I don’t remember or care: it’s so good, I’ll happily tell you how good it is a million times! In horror films, mental illness is very often the seasoning on a big plate of terrifying shizz, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it used as effectively as it is here, with the main character understanding from the get-go that the supernatural horror she’s experiencing mimicks a mental breakdown and tailoring her responses and survival strategies accordingly. Meanwhile, the unnamed entity manipulates perception and its victim’s psychopathology in a way that’s clearly designed to eat away at her sense of reality while also making other people think she’s crazy and alienating her from her support network. The result is a tense, terrifying cat-and-mouse game between an intelligent, adaptable protagonist with wits and an actual, physical body on their side and an unknowable, awful entity with absolute power over their perception of reality but no corporeal form with which to threaten them. The threat feels plausible and horrifying, but we- as viewers- never become inured to it, because it also seems surmountable: we don’t just switch off and accept the lead character’s fate (a problem with a lot of horror movies) because there is a chance of survival, and we feel that right from the off. The body-horror reveal of the monster’s true form (or, at least, the form it chooses to project during the final stages of its assault) is spectacular, gripping and shit-your-pants scary. Seriously, this film won’t just have made money for cinemas: it will have saved countless laundromats and dry-cleaners from going out of business. It’s trouser-ruiningly good. If you need to be scared out of your tiny mind at short notice, I can whole-heartedly recommend Smile.

Luther: The Fallen Sun Fuckin’ Nora, Idris, do you want some mash to go with this absolute banger of a movie? I found out after watching it that this flick got mediocre reviews and that really only serves to demonstrate that most film critics couldn’t find their arses with a state-of-the-art laser-guided arse-finding system. I suspect that the problem most critics had is that they went in expecting a police procedural and got a neo-noir thriller in which the method of investigation is less important than the spectacular nature of the crime, the heroism of the protagonist and the character of the setting. This is a slick, stylish little movie, polished until it slightly outshines most supernovas. It’s set predominantly in a version of London that feels less like the modern world and more like the city in the grip of the Crays- its like a parallel universe where the tropes and aesthetic preoccupations of the Diamond Geezer era never went away and instead evolved alongside technology. That was also the original Luther series, of course, so you’d think people would know what to expect, but it’s been awhile since that aired and modern critics and audiences apparently have the memory spans of fucking grasshoppers. Now, to return to the point: style, an interesting world, a compellingly psychotic villain and the presence of Idris Elba all make this a good film, but the reason it’s a great film is much more basic: it actually makes you feel things. It depresses me that the bar has sunk that low in recent years, since movies purport to be art and the whole point of art is to make you feel stuff, but very few modern movies have engaged me like Luther, which absolutely nails its pacing, scripting and acting to produce something that hits right in the soul. Without spoiling anything, there’s a bit involving a room filling with gasoline while a filament slowly heats up to ignition-temperature… and halfway through, I realised my heart was racing, my palms were starting to sweat and I was clenching my teeth, desperately hoping that the two characters trapped inside would make it out alright- even though I’d spent most of the movie wanting to slap one of them. I’ve seen movies with clashing armies and exploding planets that felt less epic. A truly well-crafted movie can do more with a single lit fuse than a standard-issue flick can achieve with an entire fireworks display. And that’s why you ought to see this movie.

If you’ll permit me to go a bit meta before we move on, this is also the thing I’ve been begging for since the BBC ruined Doctor Who and deprived me of a lead in the mainstream media I could relate to and root for. I mean, I know Doctor Who's good again now anyway, but I appreciate this too. We’ve got a British hero who thinks his way around problems and displays a laudable- even noble- version of masculinity that’s been missing from screens for a really long time (and he gets to be the hero right up until the end- there’s no fucking bait-and-switch bullshit here). We’ve got a world that’s sufficiently different from the real world to be worth exploring. We’ve got absolutely zero virtual-signalling impinging on the plot and characterisation. And that’s it. This is literally all I fucking wanted. Not so fucking hard, was it, mainstream media? Why the fuck did I have to wait so fucking long?

Oppenheimer And now, ladies and gentlemen, we come to a piece of cinema so glorious- so beautifully-crafted and intricate and meaningful- that I have absolutely no hesitation in calling it the best movie of the decade. I also have no hesitation in calling it ‘Boppenheimer’, because it is an absolute fucking bop and I’ll fight anyone who says different. Folks, if this movie is still playing at a cinema near you, go and see it. If it’s not, find some other way to see it. This isn’t just the height of Christopher Nolan’s movie-making career- the apotheosis of his talents and a showcase for the amazing actors he can attract- it’s also a true cultural moment: something that everyone should share in and appreciate together. It’s hard to describe what makes this film so fucking good, but you know what? I’m going to have a crack at it! Ostensibly, it’s a retelling of the invention of the atomic bomb and the aftermath of its first detonations in a theatre of war. But it’s so, so much more. It’s a character study reflecting on the motives, flaws and redemptive qualities of a Jewish man terrified that Nazi Germany would unlock the power of the atom before the allies. It’s a reappraisal of this man- who has oft been condemned for bringing such an evil invention into the world- recognising that he was a pawn of much darker forces doing what little he could do to spare the world yet greater evils. It’s an exposé of the way the US government of the time exploited and then tossed aside the nation’s brightest minds; using their insight and intellectual labour but refusing to listen to their dire warnings about the misuse of the power they were developing. It’s a study of the prejudices and flawed relations that characterised life in the 1940s and 50s. It’s a deep dive into the workings of the mid-20th Century scientific community. It is, quite simply, brilliant. From its visualisation of atomic physics to the ingenious ways it finds to show Oppenheimer’s doubt and guilt over the use of his weapon, Oppenheimer is a once-in-a-generation piece of media whose import and significance can’t and shouldn’t be denied. I thoroughly expect it to take its place in the western cinematic canon alongside Citizen Kane, Doctor Strangelove, The Seventh Seal, Alien, The Truman Show and other lightning-in-a-bottle one-offs whose existence could never have been conceived before they came screaming into existence with the swagger of inevitability and- appropriately in this case- the explosive roar of sheer newness.

Er… I really like this film.

Slumberland And now, a family film! A fucking excellent family film, in fact! Loosely based on the Little Nemo in Slumberland comic strips from the 1930s (and I do mean loosely), it’s a movie about a troubled young girl dealing with tragedy by escaping into a very literal world of dreams, which ultimately serves as the route and method by which she forges new, meaningful connections in the waking world. And if that sounds a little heavy, don’t panic: there’s also a scene in which we learn that the most popular dream in Canada involves riding a giant goose like a fucking dragon. I don’t want to spoil too much of this one, because every dream sequence and plot-point is delightfully inventive and unexpected and really deserves to be experienced fresh. It’s rare to stumble onto something so thoroughly and completely charming and it’s always refreshing when you do. Slumberland handles important themes with a lightness and dextrousness that makes them accessible and comprehensible to the younger members of its audience while keeping its world and plot vital and interesting for older viewers who might already have had their fill of such themes. Normally, I’d deduct points for gender-flipping the main character from the source material, but on this occasion it’s a bit of a non-issue. The Nemo of the comics was a bit of cipher and- if you really need him to be in it, it’s kind of heavily implied that this Nemo’s father was the original. Besides which, Jason Mamoa’s over-exuberant dream-dweller, ‘Flip’, provides a sympathetic masculine presence for any young lads in the audience and he gets nearly as much screen time as the ostensible POV character. So, having addressed the elephant in the room, all that remains to say is: THIS IS A VERY FUCKING GOOD FAMILY FILM. Though maybe not quite as good as…

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish Excuse me, but what fucking right does this film have to be as good as it is? I mean, it’s a spin-off of a minor character from the Shrek films about a talking cat going on a quest to find a magic star that grants wishes. Why the fuck is it one of the best things I’ve seen in years? I mean, on the surface, it’s just a really fun family flick. It’s funny; its set-pieces are creative; its characters are entertaining and larger than life; its animation style is fresh and frankly enchanting. But then it also decided that it wanted to be a meditation on confronting the ageing process and its implied threat of mortality. And it fucking nails it. It’s not prescriptive or lecturing: it sympathises with Puss’s fears as he realises he’s used up all but one of his nine lives… but it ultimately shows that his increasing age doesn’t have to define him. Add a few quiet, tender moments of the kind often missing from the hyperactive movies of the last few years, a wonderfully psychotic villain and a B-plot about the value of found families, bonded by love rather than blood, and what you have is a truly excellent slice of entertainment that wears its heart on its sleeve and, in a landscape littered with insincere corporate garbage, is remarkable for its sincerity.

A Haunting in Venice Okay, brutal honesty time: Kenneth Brannaugh (who I just misspelled) isn’t as good in the role of Poirot as David Suchet was. However, it feels unfair to judge him or his take on Agatha Christie’s classic mysteries by that metric, since Suchet’s Poirot was a spectacular, long-running, genre-defining figure who probably won’t be equalled in televised detection fiction any time this millennium. Judged on its own merits, A Haunting in Venice is a deliciously intricate, intelligently-realised film which succeeds in saying something new about its central character and doing something new with its genre. Loosely based on Christie’s The Halloween Party, A Haunting in Venice takes on the overtones of a horror story and pits Poirot against forces that may be genuinely supernatural in a setting and world that embraces gothic aesthetics and conceits as much as it does those of the detective-genre. I don’t want to give too much away, but I will see that A Haunting in Venice finds just the right balance between horror and rationality and toys with ambiguity in a way that a lot of modern movies- keen to over-explain things to an imagined audience of thickos- might miss. It also knows how to treat its subject matter with sobriety when it counts without sacrificing an overall sense of playfulness.

A final note: its predecessor, Death on the Nile, was probably the weakest of the Brannaugh trilogy (and Venice does feel like the final entry in a trilogy), despite the welcome presence of Dawn French as an eccentric communist lesbian. Death on the Nile made its Poirot a little too prickly and unforgiving and also had him reflect Christie’s real-life conservative-with-a-small-c politics, which (though confined to one or two lines) made for uncomfortable viewing at best. While I understand the intention was to contrast him against characters who today’s viewers would find more relatable, it served to rob the protagonist of some of his wisdom and mystery (Poirot needn’t be a paragon of progressivism- in fact, that would be just as bad- but he ought to be above such things; a rarefied figure concerned less with politics than his own moral imperatives). Luckily, Venice seems to have learned from these mistakes and eschews even minor forays into politics, preferring instead to focus on character drama and a battle between rationality and magical thinking to generate its various tensions. Yeah. Good choice.

Peacemaker That more or less does it for the films (well, the good films- the dreck will get their own blog at some point), but there’s still a couple of telly shows I want to talk about. Starting with this one! Peacemaker is one of the funniest, most over-the-top shows of the last ten years. Billed as a superhero program, it’s really more a comedy and ode to schlocky pop culture framed that uses a superhero story as a framing device. While it also has some important and timely things to say about the threat of climate crisis and ends on a bit of a downer (which I won’t spoil), the overall experience is one of hilarious, ludicrous, over-the-top scenes punctuated by some of the best heavy rock ever used in any show’s soundtrack and a lot of down-time devoted exclusively to really, really funny dialogue. If you liked Archer but felt it could benefit from more heavy metal interludes, the comedy here is very much in the same style: people talking at cross-purposes in a way that leverages their clashing belief systems, background and mental illnesses for comic effect. Ultimately, as with Archer, its acerbic tartness also serves as cover for a heart of gold. There’s no meanness of spirit or coldness to Peacemaker. If anything, I’d describe its approach to characterisation as joyously redemptive, while its overt inclusivity isn’t the clinical box-ticking of most Hollywood ‘diversity’, but rather seems to stem from an all-embracing, eclectic fascination with the way human beings are shaped by background and divergent life-experiences. It’s really, really good to see this done well for a change.

Oh, and there’s bits that are also a bit sexy.

One Piece I never got round to watching the original One Piece anime, despite my abiding affection for Japanese animation. That wasn’t a deliberate thing- there was just always something else to watch first. As it turns out, that was a stroke of luck, since I now get to watch the English-language, live-action adaptation fresh and it’s a fucking delight. It’s also so profoundly weird that I have no idea how to explain why it’s so good to a normal, sane reader. Between the violently revolutionary fish people, the murder-clowns with detachable body parts, the fruits that give you superpowers, the badass martial-arts chefs arguing over oregano, the sexy, plus-sized pirate queens, the sea-snails that act like living telephones and the high-ranking military leaders with very silly hats, it’s kind of hard to know where to start. What I can tell you is that the whole world of One Piece is absolutely fascinating: a nautical civilisation of a thousand islands whose technology seems to have evolved in such a way that sail-based ship-travel, gunpowder cannons and neon lights are all in use at the same time; where traditional aristocratic societies coexist with violent samurai clans; where piracy is less a crime than a lifestyle choice. I can tell you its characters are compelling and ridiculous… yet also compellingly, sincerely heroic in a way that western-origin protagonists are rarely allowed to be, lest the show-runners be accused of reinscribing toxic ideals. I can tell you that the fight scenes are epic and the special effects regard little things like physics with a magnificent degree of contempt. And, of course, I can tell you that it’s bloody good fun.

Doctor Who 2023 Specials After a shaky start with The Star Beast (which kinda felt like the first draft of a better script to me- see my full review) the Who specials shaped up to be some of the best telly in years- high concept sci-fi and cosmic horror seen through the lens of off-beat humour and silliness that my home country still does better than anywhere else. After the wilderness of the Chibnall/Whitaker years, the specials felt like getting Doctor Who back as an early Xmas present. I won’t go on and on here since I’ve written several full reviews for the individual episodes, but I feel it’s important to state again my delight that this exists.

And that’s probably enough to be getting on with, don’t you think? Well, guess what: you don’t get a vote! This is the end of the blog whether you like it or not. You can piss off now.