#and hooks till the world dies ��

[nepherit]

My honored guests...dinner is served ✨✨

Go on, little mouse. Partake, enjoy your supper...

I was so disappointed when Larian dropped Patch 7 with its new evil endings, but no Raphael dinner included, so I vowed to make up for it with a dinner of my own. I was all set to color and shade, but things didn’t quite go as planned, and I had to take a little break. I picked it up again a few days ago, and here it is—finally finished.

Happy holidays!

[arisewanekosuki]

Together Forever (Doll!Kabukimono x F!Reader) (Modern AU)

Photo by ShiNesWorkshop on etsy Ah~ I wish I could buy a doll like this, they are so pretty TvT

Also this is something I wrote last year… but because of what happened back then I couldn't correct some things and post it. But now I want to let it go. So sorry if it's not good. Back then I was in mood for something more creepy 👀💦 The ending is up to your interpretation. ------ In your neighbourhood there is an abandoned house to which your friends wanted to go. That day you didn't have anything better to do, so you tagged along. And you have been curious about the building that was left in this state for some years now. You would hear some rumors, claiming that the house is haunted, that the last inhabitant died in unexplained circumstances. But now you know the truth.

In the past there lived two beautiful sisters, you vaguely remember them. But one day both of them vanished. You learned from your parents that one of the sisters died in an accident and the other one became depressed, because of that she never wanted to come out from her house. Till one day her good friends came and convinced her to move out with them, they knew she didn't have any family left and didn't want to leave her in such state alone. Back then you were too young to know what happened, but not long ago you asked your parents about it and they told you the whole story. The only thing that nobody knows is why the house wasn't sold yet and stood abandoned for years.

Your group decided to go check the house before night falls. One of the friends checked if any neighbors were outside or looking through the window. Many people think it's not good to just barge into the house, maybe they didn’t want some hooligans to ruin it or steal from it. It is said that she left some furniture and other stuff, maybe this is why some neighbours think there is a chance that one day she will come back. The back door was open, it seems someone already broke into the house. You and your friends got excited while coming one by one into the house. -"What if we will see ghosts?" one of the guys said while looking through dusty furniture. -"Is this why you took the camera with you?" another guy asked with a deadpan expression. -"Yeah! Okay… how about we split up? The house is pretty big." You weren't a fan of this idea but most of the group was already deciding which room they wanted to check.

After some time while you were checking the second floor you heard some noise coming from above you. When you stopped to listen to it, it sounded like someone was crying. Looking up you noticed the door leading to the attic. -"G-guys? Can you all come here?" After that everyone came to where you were standing "Can you all hear that?" Everyone was silent. The noise stopped. -"Nope. What did you hear?" One friend asked. -"It's… it's like someone was crying… I think? I'm not sure…" you said with worry written on your face. -"Well… how about we check it out?" the same friend with a camera said with a big smile. "O! Look! I can open the door with this!" He took the attic pull down hook and opened the door. The ladder appeared and your group was looking up. -"So.. who is going first?" Nobody wanted so you all played rock, paper, scissors. And you lost. You went up, looking around you only saw more dusty furniture and things, forgotten by the world. You call your friends and they get up one after another. -"Eh… I thought there would be something… I don't know… maybe even a corpse." -"Oh shut up… I think we all should leave now…" one of the girls said, not liking the idea of staying here longer. -"No way! I think we can find something interesting here!" while your two friends were arguing you came closer to the fancy box that caught your attention. You blew dust away and opened it, finding a beautiful doll. -“What did you find (Y/n)?” one of the girls asked. -“A doll? So creepy~” Your friend with a camera came, filming it. -“Hm? Why? I think it’s really pretty!” you told them, caressing the head of the doll. -“Hey, guys… don’t you think this doll looks very similar to the ladies that lived here?” the girl that wanted to leave came closer, taking a look at the doll -“Yeah and it looks like a boy? Did any of them have a child?” another guy said. -“I don’t think so? It’s been a while but I never saw any child with them…” you replied. You all tried to remember anything if one of the twins had a child. -“I only remember the girl that was a bit older than us back then with pink hair…” the other friend said. -“Oh I remember her!” You remembered the girl that was a child of one of the close friends to the twins. “Her name was Miko!” you said. There was silence between you and your friends. After some time one of the guys said, -“Do you think she had a child that died too?” -“Would she leave this doll here then?” You asked. -“She was in a bad state of mind right? If she lost a child and then a sister…” -“Alright, stop it! It’s just sad to even listen to this!” one of the girls said. You looked at the doll, you felt sad for it, lying in this box, abandoned and forgotten. -“(Y/n)? What are you doing?” one of the friends asked. You put the doll into the box, close it and take it with yourself. -“We promised to not take anything from here!” -“I know! But… I don’t know why, I feel bad for it! If the lady ever comes back then I’ll give this doll back to her!” you said, your friends seem confused, why do you want to even take this creepy thing with you? -“Alright, just don’t tell anyone that you took this from here.” One of friends said. -“Don’t worry, I won’t!” you said, smiling to yourself.

When you came back home you took the doll from the box. -“Aren’t you a pretty one?” you said looking at it in your hands. Because it was in the box, the doll is in good condition, a bit dusty but you can clean it. The doll reminded you of those ball jointed ones. You tried to search if this doll is available for buying, curious if one of the twins bought it because it looked similar to them. But you didn’t find anything. You were wondering if one of them made the doll. -“So much work went into making you… why would she leave you in the attic?” you started to brush its hair. Talking aloud like it could hear you. You realized you can take the clothes off from the doll, so you did it. You covered the doll in a rag so it wouldn’t sit ‘naked’, while you went to wash its clothes. -”I’m sorry, your clothes are drying, so you have to stay like this for now.” You petted the doll head. -“I wonder if you have a name…hm…” you said, looking at the doll. You feel mesmerized by its pretty face and lovely indigo eyes. For the next few days you would take photos of the doll, it made you want to buy more clothes for it but after seeing the prices for clothes made especially for dolls like this, you decided that you would rather try to make ones yourself.

When you would do your homework, study or just play games you would place the doll on your lap, for some reason it brought you some comfort when you held it close. This was very childish and you know it, but you couldn’t help but still do that. You even made a little pillow and cover and changed its box into the bed for it. At first you wanted to place the doll by your side when you were going to sleep, but you got worried that you could damage it or even throw it from the bed while you move in your sleep. There were some weird incidents. Like one time you came back from school and found that your PC was turned on and your doll was sitting in front of the monitor. When you get busy doing homework there are moments where the doll would fall face down. No matter how you place it will still fall. you started to joke that it just wants your attention back. One time you woke up to be greeted by lifeless eyes of the doll that was lying by your side. You were creeped out but tried to explain to yourself that you somehow forgot to put it back in its own ‘bed’.

You’d always leave the doll at home when you went to school, more worried that it could be damaged or lost, than what other people would think about you. Yet one time, in your first class, when you opened your backpack to take your notebook the first thing you saw was a doll between books and notes. Your friends with whom you went to the abandoned house would make jokes that the doll is possessed, not taking anything seriously that you said. You were scared, but because of them you tried to convince yourself that there is an explanation for all of this. After all, it’s impossible for the doll to be 'alive', right?

When you came back home, you were watching it intensely, to see if it would blink or even move a little bit. You had the urge to even say to it “Blink if you’re alive” but the thought of what you would do, if it really blinked, scared you. After 5 minutes of staring, you sighed. -“There should be some explanations for all this stuff…” You decided to ‘take a break’ from the doll, for the next few days you just left it in the box, you didn’t take any photos of it, you didn’t hold it when you were watching movies. You didn't even brush its hair. And one night when you were sleeping you woke up to the feeling of someone sitting on the edge of your bed. You couldn’t move, even if you wanted to turn around and see who was sitting here. Then you felt someone caressing your hair, you could feel someone’s breath on your ear and then you heard

“Let’s be together forever.”

You turned around, finally able to control your body again, but there wasn’t anyone there. On the desk you could see the doll, sitting in the box, its head turned towards you. You couldn’t take this anymore and for the night you closed the box and put it in your wardrobe, but you didn’t fall asleep for another two hours. In the morning, you were woken up by an alarm, turning it off you noticed the box on the desk. Getting up you approached the box, the doll was lying in it. You wondered if what happened at night was just a dream. While getting ready to school you didn’t notice the door to your wardrobe was slightly open.

After you came back home, you noticed a note on the dinner table. Something happened to grandma and your parents left to see how serious the situation is. You called them, asking how grandma is and they told you that everything is fine, but they will stay at grandma’s place for the weekend to help her around the house. You didn’t like the idea of staying home alone now. You called your girl friends to ask them if they would like to come for a sleepover. But sadly everyone already had plans for the weekend. -“Just my luck…” you sighed. You spend the rest of the day in the living room, watching dramas and some movies, too lazy to do your homework. At some point you felt your eyelids getting heavier. You're not sure why, but when you woke up, you felt like something was wrong. The drama was continuing on your TV, you looked at the clock and saw that it's 22.33. You yawned and then looked around the room, but nothing changed. You tried to brush off this uncomfortable feeling and you turned the TV off.

And then you heard it. Thump thump thump You heard someone walking around the house. "Did someone break in?" You were wondering. The sound stopped at the entrance to the living room. You held your breath and slowly turned towards the entrance. In the doorway, there stood the doll. You felt like your heart was going to stop. You couldn’t even make any noise from the fear. 'How is it possible? Is this some kind of prank?' Those questions swarmed in your head. There is no way for a small doll to make such noises while walking anyway. When you blinked the doll was closer to where you were sitting. You got up from the couch and ran towards the exit. But before you could reach it you fell, you could feel a cold hand holding your ankle. “Why are you running? Don’t you even dare try to leave me too…” You heard a soft, male voice. You turned your head to look at what was holding you. It was the little hand of the doll, its eyes were filled with life, the face normally always without any expression was now smiling. “I love you.” And with that, you blacked out.

Sunday evening, your parents came back home. Your mother called for you but you didn’t reply. Going to your room, your mother found you laying in bed. She thought that you just called it a day and went to sleep earlier. If she came closer she would see you holding a doll close to your chest, its little hands clutching to your clothes while its head turned to your face. Its beautiful eyes were filled with adoration.

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, what are the Batfamily’s favorite tv shows? It’s hard to find time between saving the world and curating their civilian identities, but when the Bats do have the chance to sit down and watch tv, they typically default to a certain genre.

Bruce by far has the weirdest taste in tv shows. Its why no one ever watches with him, because he’s the type to pick some random, obscure show that literally no one has ever heard of and is dubbed over in French or something. However, he does get kudos because he was the one that got everyone hooked on Squid Game.

Dick and Cass 100% watch American Ninja Warrior together. Dick started watching it when it first came out, and tunes in weekly for the new episodes. One day Cass walked in and was hypnotized. So now they watch it together and occasionally set up their own courses in the Batcave to have competitions on. Dick usually gets his ass beat but it’s still fun.

Jason watches period dramas. (This might actually be canon? I’m not sure?) He’s made his way through the Gilded Age, Downton Abbey, The Crown, and annually rewatches the ultimate cut of Pride and Prejudice. No one would expect the terrifying Red Hood to tear up watching Little Women, but man does that shit get to him…

Tim watches reality tv. The Kardashians, The Real Housewives, The Bachelor—he eats that shit up. Listening to other people’s problems and watching them deal with them in a removed way takes him back to his stalker days, and, hey, he appreciates some mind-numbing drama. Tim’s brain is like a whirlpool; sometimes it’s nice to just conk out thinking about what Kim said to Courtney, instead of that new project at WE or that new gadget he needs to work on for Young Justice.

Steph does not watch TV. She watches clips of TV shows on TikTok. (Particularly, those Young Sheldon clips that come up on everyone’s for you page.) On the rare occasions she actually does turn the TV on, it’s usually turned to Gossip Girl or a cartoon, and she doesn’t actually pay attention—it’s just background noise.

Damian is enthralled with National Geographic. He’ll deny it till the day he dies, but he loves those five-hour documentaries on rhinos and whale sharks or whatever. The problem is that he records everything, so the Manor’s DVR is always full, and it drives everyone crazy. Especially Dick, because by God, if there isn’t enough storage for next weekends episode of Ninja Warrior—

Duke likes comedy shows. Abbott Elementary, Parks and Rex, and The Good Place are just a couple of his favorites. He’s currently rewatching The Office with Barbra and they’ll quote it at each other during patrol.

[amirasainz]

Could you do an Amira and lance or Pierre story where they take us on vacation and no one knows where we went till we post something and all of them start freaking out and calling Amira

Guess who's back? My request are OPEN. Enjoy reading.

-XoXo

No Part 2!!!

Hiding the princess

"Ohhh, Pierre. It's so beautiful here. Gracias, mi cielo" Amira said to him. While Amira was admiring the breath-taking view from their balcony suite, Pierre was busy starring at his girl. She looked like a goddess, with her hair blowing in the wind and the lights reflecting in her eyes.

He went up behind her, hugging her tightly against his body. He hooked his chin over her shoulder, kissing her temple lovingly. "Only the best for you, ma belle." His whisper made her shiver, making her search more for his body heat.

Their romantic moment got interrupted by one of their phones buzzing. "Don't worry. I got it." he told her before she could move a finger. After kissing her cheek once more, he went inside their suite, finding Amiras phone lighting up from another message. On a closer look, Pierre could see that Carlos had been messaging Amira frantically.

To be honest, Pierre didn't leave Amira any time to inform anyone about their "spontaneous" travel. The past few weeks, the drivers and WAGS had been hogging Amira, leaving them without any time for themselves. So Pierre decided to take her away to Dubai, making her pack her luggage 2 hours before their private flight.

During their whole flight, Pierre was busy feeding Amira cherries while she tried to guess their travel destination. After 3 hours of flying, Pierre made her lie on top of him so she could rest after her exhausting packing. Pierre cherished every moment, making sure she was always in his arms, keeping her warm and safe.

Pierre wished he was able to frame the moment she recognised the beautiful city lights of Dubai. Amira once mentioned that she always wanted to visit the city. She wanted to spend her time in the dessert or in the luxury shopping centers. And who was Pierre to deny her such wish. The perfect opportunity presented after not being able to spend some time alone , just the two of them.

Till the day he died, Pierre would deny that seeing the thousand of messages Carlos send Amira in the past 7 hours made him nervous. For the love of god, he is 27 years old. Such thing like big, older, overprotective brothers didn't make Pierre break out in a sweat anymore. The Frenchman knew that he couldn't just leave the messages unanswered. He opened the Chat between the two Sainz siblings and wrote something along the lines of "Oh, I'm sorry for not answering sooner. I'm just so tired and I will go to sleep now. Bye-Bye <3". Before he could second guess himself. Pierre was brought out from his overthinking.

"Pierre, are you ok?" asked the sweet voice of his beautiful angel. "Of course, ma belle. I was just grabbing you a jacket" he answered. He quickly turned of her phone and grabbed his oversized beige jacket. He immediately wrapped her up, making sure that she was protected from the wind. "Oh, but I'm not even co-." Before she could finish her sentences he kissed her quickly.

Pierre wouldn't let anyone take her attention during their romantic get-away. Thru ought the week, he made sure to keep her busy. Pierre took her shopping, bought her the finest jewelerry. He had a SPA day with her, so she could relax from their hectic shopping day. The rest of the week they either went in the dessert, to the beach or did more shopping. Pierre made sure that they spent every second together. Safe to say that Amira wasn't able to respond to ay of her messages.

@ pierregasly just posted

Liked by charlesleclerc, lilyminuhe, georgerussell and 7 894 519 others

Spending the week with the most beautiful girl in the world @amirasainz <3

Comments:

@carlossainzjr cabron what is this?

@carlossainzjr Pierre Gasly, you better answer me right now

@carlossainzjr When I catch you Gasly, you're dead

@ charlesleclerc What the fuck? I thought we were friends

@ landonorris YOU CAN'T JUST HIDE HER FROM THE REST OF US!!!!!

@ oscarpiastri I will crash into you next race

@ maxverstappen you better hide

@ carmenmundt who do you think you are, hiding my girl from me?!

@ amirasainz <3

@ pierregasly BABY!!!! <3

Bonus(+)

In the tense atmosphere, Carlos muttered to himself, pacing back and forth in front of the other drivers. Three days had passed without any word from precious Amira, and concern had escalated. They hastily convened an impromptu drivers’ meeting, their minds racing with worry. On the whiteboard, various theories about her whereabouts were scribbled.

Just as Lando was about to share another idea, the door swung open. Charles stood there, his chest heaving. Startled, all the drivers rose from their seats. Max managed to ask, “Charles, what—”

Before anyone could respond, Charles turned toward them, tears glistening in his eyes. His voice trembled as he held up his phone, revealing an Instagram post from Pierre. The room erupted into chaos as everyone tried to make sense of the situation

Charles burst into tears, while Max threw some pillows at the wall. George and Alex were busy stalking the post. Oscar tried his best to help Lando regulate his breathing, while trying to keep the anger in himself. The chaos stopped when Carlos walked towards the door, muttering under his breath: "He's dead. He is so dead."

[coleszzzworld]

Baby daddy Eijiro Kirishima (red riot) x fem reader (she/her pronouns.)

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

TRIGGER WARNING,~ ✰cussing , like one paragraph of nsfw , kinda of yandere ish?… kiri is a kinda of a douche in this~ ✰POSITIVELY DO NOT READ IF EASILY TRIGGERED. ✰~Enjoy the fall. ✰~🐇♦️🖤

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

- ✰“Please…. I don’t wanna be alone…”✰-

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

✰-Baby daddy! Kirishima who loves you and your twin boys very much! , he would die for you and his boys , he would burn the whole world down for you and the boys if you guys asked him , he would even stop being a hero , if you and the twins asked!.

✰-Baby daddy! Kirishima was so sad when you broke things off with him , “it’s not working.” You said to him , he’d question him self … what’s not working?! , you broke things off before the twins were born , you thought shared custody was good enough… nope … kiri didn’t move out . He claims it’s good to have a “man” in the house , to raise the boys …. To do all the hard work ……to provide for you.

✰-Baby daddy! Kirishima who will never let you go…no matter what… he’ll never let you go. It’s suffocating. You feel like you can’t breathe…. You guys aren’t married… when you got pregnant, it was after U.A , now you both are in you’re twenty’s … you want to explore your options… have hook ups … just live your life ! … he always says “till death do us apart.” It’s funny cause you guys aren’t married…the only way he’ll let go …. Is if you died . Or he dies …

✰-Baby daddy! Kirishma who buys you the house in the suburbs, with a huge pool in the backyard, and a huge porch, he’ll give you whatever you want , you want those 900$ heels ? … Done! He bought them for you ! , you want a new car? , he’s on his way to the dealership… and don’t get me started on the twins , he’ll buy them whatever they desire! , they want that new basketball hoop? , he’ll do it better!… he’ll get them they’re own basketball court ! … they want that signed jersey from leborn James?… he’ll buy it no matter what the price ! … they want the newest shoes ? , consider it done !! , they now have a whole closet dedicated to they’re new shoes and signed jerseys!.

✰-Baby daddy! Kirishima, who puts the twins in sports , they do basketball, baseball , soccer, football! , he wants them to be “achiever’s“ just like him ! , you tell him they’re to young , I mean they’re only six years old , when he put them in all these sports , but the boys don’t seem to mind ! , they definitely have a favorite sport , it’s basketball, they don’t mind the other activities, but they like basketball the most . Sometimes , bakugo’s daughter comes over to the house and plays basketball with the boys ! .

✰-Baby daddy! Kirishma , who doesn’t like when you go on dates , he’ll invite himself, im not kidding, he full on invites himself , so here you are on a date with a guy you met on tinder , and your baby daddy , kiri staring at the man , cold stone face … the look on his face looked like he wanted to hop over the table and strangle the dude … so you stopped going on dates with people. That and it was embarrassing… how do you explain to someone that your baby daddy is insane and has no sense for boundaries.

✰-Baby daddy! Kirishma who holds your hand , and kisses your check , at your son’s basketball games , he wants to let the whole world know you two are still together… so when the paparazzi rudely interrupts your boys game , he’ll smile and hold your hand as the cameras click … flashing lights every second…. You feel nauseous… you two aren’t together… ‘click.’ …. This isn’t real… ‘click.’ ….. you’ll try to pull away from his hand . He won’t let go. He keeps a tight grip on your hand…’click.’ ….’click.’ …..’click.’ You space out … you just mindlessly smile … then he pulls your face near his …. Kissing your cheek …. ‘Click.’ ‘Click.’‘Click.’‘Click.’‘Click.’…… you can feel your mind go numb. The next day you see , the newspaper in the grocery… the header reading , “worlds best couple!!!!, Y/n L/n & Eijiro Kirishima!” You roll your eyes .

‘Click….’

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

[Nsfw.]

✰-Baby daddy! Kirishima , who fucks you till you’re crying… he’ll have you in the bed , face down ass up … as he slams into you . Smacking your ass every thrust … you can’t help but moan . “F-fuck you like that baby?…” he stutters out… “fuck You feel so good.” He says as his hips stutter too. You know he’s close .

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

A/N - ( sorry yall I was going to add more smut but writers block hit me , then my adhd started to act up lol , but I’ll write a part two to this . And it’ll be smut!!!)

[secondjulia]

Necessary but Stupid -> The StarvingArtist!Dream/Plasma AU You Didn't Request

UM. So. This was definitely just a weird little AU idea I had... definitely not while hooked up at csl daydreaming about Dream & Hob... that I was just going to dump in @gabessquishytum's Ask, as one does with weird little AU ideas. And then it kind of exploded. Into an actual story.

---Rated: G. Logistics in the tags. Ao3 link ---

There's no stopping the dark cloud that passes over Hob's head the moment he opens the door to the plasma center. But now he can smile brightly through it and let the storm blow quietly away. The dark memories this place holds still surface every time he walks in, but he's never once considered not going. Even though it's been ten years since Eleanor and the babe died of some rare blood condition that triggered childbirth complications, Hob's still there twice a week, every week, rain or shine.

He waves to the clerk at the desk. The security guard greets him with a comment about the latest football match, and Hob makes an appropriately pained, commiserating expression. He asks the technician taking his blood pressure how his honeymoon went — Côte d'Albâtre, right? — and Hob reminisces cheerily about his own trips to France.

Nobody’s ever exactly happy at the plasma center, but the sunny professor’s relentlessly friendly chatter brightens everyone’s day. All the staff know him by name, his surprisingly colorful stories can help pass the time on those long-line days, and his smile always lights up the room. 

Sure, Hob can be kind of opinionated — like whenever he declares that death is stupid and nobody should have to die of preventable diseases! Everyone just goes along with it, and it’s so cruel! (Nobody actually disagrees, but he is very vocal about it.) The first time he said this — sitting hunched with downcast eyes, just weeks after his wife’s death — his voice was soft with hopelessness, and it cracked as he held back tears. But ten years later, when people ask him why he’s still doing this when he’s a tenured professor with a summer cottage and a retirement plan, Hob declares jovially that death is stupid! Nobody has to die when he can give them something they need from his own arms — it’s a renewable resource! 

Hob, it cannot be said enough, brightens everyone's day — usually.

But not today. Not everyone's.

Dream cannot believe the insufferable words coming out of this man’s mouth. It's the first day Dream’s set foot in this particular center, and he already wants to go home. 

But home is the problem. Dream's new apartment is much cheaper than the building that just evicted him, but this latest series of paintings are taking far longer to complete than he'd hoped. And also, the art world just fucking sucks. Dream can't fool himself. Even when the paintings are ready, it's unlikely they'll sell well enough or soon enough to plug the gaps in his income. 

For years, Dream played the whole shitty-jobs roulette to support his art, but ever since he was kidnapped and spent years in a glass cage in a basement, he can’t even manage that. Seriously, try explaining that kind of resumé gap to a job interviewer. When he does manage to get work, it always goes bad fast. Dream wasn’t exactly totally undamaged before, but now he feels like he's all scars.

Dream is not here by choice. He cannot imagine who would be. 

He'd gone to his old plasma center for years — till he was forced to move — in order to make ends meet. Today, he's here to fill in the glaring gap between the meager payment he got for a small watercolor last January, his savings, and a near-maxed-out credit card. (Nearly maxed out in the hasty scramble to get to a cheaper place to live. Moving was expensive. Funny how that works.) The plasma center is, in some ways, far preferable to many of the jobs he's had in the past, and it allows Dream to spend more time on his art. But it is absolutely unfathomable how anybody could pursue an eternity of this if they didn’t have to. 

Dream keeps his head down avoiding the attention of the chatty professor. He stays quiet. His cold, bony hands are tucked into his long cardigan sleeves except for when he's chugging water, nearly by the gallon. He's about 2kg from the next weight class. Unfortunately, he's lost weight since his eviction, but if he could bump the scale a little higher, it would mean a higher draw — and a slightly higher payment. He's always cold these days, so the heavy sweater isn't a hardship, and the water fills up his stomach and supplements his inadequate lunch of oatmeal and stolen sugar packets.

The first time Dream meets Professor Hob’s eyes is when they’re sliding the needle into his arm and Dream has to turn his head away sharply. Dream was never afraid of needles — not until that night when someone (he later learned it was a twisted old cult leader named Burgess) stuck him with… something that knocked him out cold and he woke up in the basement. These days, although he's done this many times before, when the metal pricks his skin, Dream still lays frozen like an ice sculpture as his heart pounds against his chest.

He has sold his vintage leather jacket, his treasured collection of elegant handmade cloaks (there was a theatrical phase, it’s complicated), and most of his books (the shelves of his sparse apartment now hold only a few cheap volumes of blank paper for his sketches). But it wasn’t enough. 

Burgess was years ago, but Dream's life still lies in ruins.

He does not like being here. But it seems that this — his body's materials, his very essence — is the only thing of value he has to offer the world. This most basic biological function, the blood pumping through his veins, is all anyone wants of him now.

So despite his fear, he lets them bleed him.

Hob is usually quiet when he’s hooked up to the machine. He'll chat in the line and in the lobby and at the vitals check, but on the donation floor, he politely minds his own business. Here, everyone retreats into their own world, usually scrolling on their phone or staring at the clock. People don't usually feel like talking when they’ve got a needle in their arm. And Hob’s an extrovert, not an asshole. 

But today, the man beside him looks over, and Hob can’t wrench his eyes away. The man is thin and sheet white and his eyes are huge and watery over jutting cheekbones. His lips might be trembling.

“Alright there?” Hob asks kindly. 

The man’s head twitches. It might be a nod.

Hob has seen people pass out here before. With the way this guy looks, Hob’s mildly shocked that anyone thought it was a good idea to drain him of vital fluids. But the people here know their business. His numbers must be under control, or else he wouldn’t’ve been allowed in.

Still, under control doesn’t necessarily mean ok.

So Hob gently keeps the conversation going with the man. Dream, he learns and his heart flutters at the name. He weirdly doesn’t seem bothered by Hob’s donation floor chatter (maybe because he's too bothered by the needle in his arm to notice anything else). Dream doesn’t even pull out a phone. He seems to hang on Hob’s every word of small talk. 

“I can shut up if you’d life,” Hob offers when he realizes with a shock that he’s babbled through the entire first draw. “It just seemed like you needed some distraction.”

“Please.” Dream blushes slightly. Well, at least his skin is getting some blood. “Tell me about… your experiences. What… have you been doing?”

Huh? 

What has he been doing? That’s vague. 

But if anyone can find a way to fill a vague prompt, it’s Hob. So he chatters some more about the union organizing at his university and a ridiculous new scheduling system for the adjuncts — it’s like they’ve taken all the worst aspects of on-demand scheduling from the fast food industry and applied it to higher education for some incomprehensible reason. One of his colleagues had a class — and £2000 of pay — cancelled two days before term started. But not everything’s bad. Hob knows the students are planning a walkout next week, which he fully supports and has already adjusted his lessons to compensate for the lost time. Also, there’s a new pizza place on campus which is rather decent.

He really is just rambling. 

But Dream seems to need it. He hasn’t looked down at his arm once, and Hob’s certain that’s for the best.

Dream has to admit that the insufferable professor has made the time go by a lot quicker. He’s shocked when they’re sliding the needle out of his arm, then wrapping his elbow up, and he’s free to go. He mumbles what he hopes is a polite goodbye to Hob, who is also finishing up, and then practically stumbles out into the rain.

He clutches his cardigan around him and pulls up his hood and plods away from the center. This place is closer to the new apartment than his previous plasma center, but it’s still a half hour hike home. The buses take even longer — his crappy apartment isn't exactly on a convenient route. But at least walking saves him a few quid.

“Hey!” 

The voice makes Dream flinch. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a car slow down beside him, and his heart ratchets up in his chest. He doesn’t look over, only hunches deeper into his wet cardigan and walks faster.

“Hey, Dream!”

Oh.

Belatedly, Dream recognizes Hob’s voice. He finally looks up to see Hob looking out his car window and smiling despite the rain streaming onto his face.

“Looks like you could use a ride!” Hob jerks his head toward the passenger’s seat. “Hop in!”

Dream stares at the kindly professor. Who offers a stranger a ride in their car? Sure, Dream spent the last forty five minutes listening to every mundane detail of this guy's super normie professional life, but they still barely know each other! And if Hob actually knew Dream — a failed starving artist and all around fuckup, consistently two minutes away from homelessness — there’s no way he’d want to associate with him outside of the polite minimum of chatter at the center. 

So what the fuck is Hob playing at?

“Come on, you’ll get soaked!” Hob prods.

Fear strikes Dream, and he recoils, stumbling away from the vehicle.

“Dream? You alright there?”

But Dream is already running, tearing off through the rain. He cuts through a shitty neglected park, climbs a fence and gets chased by a rottweiler through a closed off parking lot, and dashes across a highway — almost getting hit twice.  He doesn’t stop running until he’s home.

Or, well, what passes for his home now. 

Dream dries off, makes some tea, and grabs a sketchbook. His hand shakes as he doodles, but the process calms him and grounds his mind. 

Then, as usual, after his fear begins to ebb, he feels stupid.

His mind replays the afternoon's events. Hob’s smile is brilliant in his memory. Though the initial snatches of overheard conversation were insufferable — not to mention incomprehensible — his recitation of the mundane details of life had been oddly calming. And, though Dream had perhaps not appreciated it in the moment, Hob had seemed genuinely concerned. 

The more Dream thinks about it, the stupider he feels. Worse, he feels ashamed. How rude to run from Hob, who’d only wanted to help! 

The scar tissue that has proliferated over Dream’s heart has truly damaged his ability to function among decent people. That night, he lays awake for a long time thinking about this. He should probably just never go back to the plasma center. He can’t imagine facing Hob after reacting so poorly to his kindness.

But the next day, after he scribbles up the month’s expenses and tries to make the math work, Dream realizes he has no choice. 

The day after that, he’s plodding back to the plasma center.

The feelings of shame are almost overwhelming, and Dream slouches in with his head lowered, shoulders hunched, and eyes averted from everyone. 

“Dream!” Hob’s voice is like a warm bubble bath. “Hope you got home alright.”

Dream can barely look at him, but Hob's smile is like a ray of sun on Dream’s face. There’s a cloud of concern shadowing his eyes, but he’s otherwise as cheery as ever.

“Forgive me. I…” Dream cannot explain. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I totally overstepped,” Hob says. “I know I can be a bit much, and I shouldn’t’ve pushed.”

Dream cannot believe that Hob is apologizing to him. 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Hob said gingerly, “was that your first time? It’s just you didn’t seem particularly pleased with the whole process. I thought I’d likely never see you in here again.”

“It was not. I have done this…” Too many times to count. “…frequently.” Dream finds the prospect of explaining the complexity of his situation too daunting. But he is touched by Hob’s concern. “I do not enjoy the process.”

Hob makes a sympathetic noise.

“But I did enjoy…” Dream pauses. What the fuck is he doing? Hob’s been kind enough to overlook his rudeness; Dream should just shut up and leave him alone. But maybe Dream has been alone too long, been too long without a sympathetic ear, because he keeps on mumbling, “I enjoyed hearing about your university. With the union… and the pizza… and everything.”

Impossibly, Hob brightens even further. “I could take you! The pizza really is delicious—Oh, shit, sorry, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” The cloud of concern is back as he takes in Dream’s downcast gaze. “I’m being too much. Sorry, I didn't mean to push!”

“No, not at all. It sounds lovely. I just…” Dream shifts awkwardly. “They don’t exactly pay us enough here for going out.”

“Oh, I’ll get it!" Hob says with a wave of his hand. "It’s no problem. I’d love to take you out. You looked like you could’ve used a good meal after that last one. Have you at least eaten something so far today?” Hob tries to keep the worry out of his voice so he doesn’t sound like a mother hen. All the instructional materials are very explicit about not donating on an empty stomach, but he knows that people do what they have to. 

“I have,” Dream says honestly. His lips twitch as he takes in Hob’s worried look. But Hob's smile, even suppressed, is a beautiful thing. “Really,” Dream stresses. “Oatmeal is cheap. I've had enough to be getting on with things. But later…”

“Great!” Hob’s heart flutters, but he stamps down the feeling. The memory of Dream running from him twists at his heart. He never wants to make him afraid again. 

On the donation floor, they're next to each other again. And again Hob chatters happily about whatever he can think of to keep Dream distracted. It all seems to go well until they emerge together into the parking lot and Hob notices Dream tense as he glances at Hob’s car.

“We can hop on the bus, if you prefer,” Hob says. “The campus is just down the main line, and I've got extra passes.”

Dream blushes, and his shoulders hunch like he's ashamed. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s nothing of the sort! It saves on gas and it's good for the planet!”

At the bus stop, Hob notices the way Dream’s gaze constantly flicks around his surroundings. Even when he looks down and hunches in on himself, his eyes remain alert, as if he's still hyperaware of every movement on his periphery. Hob wants so badly to reach out and comfort him and wipe away whatever has caused him to move through life with such fear, but he doesn't dare overstep. 

Hob is glad that the pizza place is in the bustling, well-lit central food court. Dream's body relaxes somewhat, and that specific tension which Hob had notice in the parking lot doesn't return. Hob buys him a giant slice of spinach, mushroom, and feta and a sealed bottle of water, and Dream even cracks a smile.

“I apologize for my behavior,” Dream says as they find seats at a plastic table in the middle of the food court. 

“No need," Hob says. "I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You were being kind, and I reacted… extremely.” Dream takes a deep breath and then a long sip of water.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Hob hastens to assure him, "about… whatever happened… if you don't want to."

Dream nods. He knows. Despite his annoyingly resurgent fear, he feels safe around Hob. So slowly, hesitantly, he begins to explain. 

It’s an abbreviated form of the story. Dream avoids the details of how Burgess thought he could siphon the life force from vibrant young adults. How he'd drawn a whole following into his delusion, even though he'd ultimately kept Dream for himself. How (Dream had learned later) Burgess had boasted about having a fresh young man, the font of youth, trapped in his basement — and no one had done anything, whether because he was just a rich eccentric who could get away with a "joke" like that or because he'd paid enough people off. He didn't tell Hob how the elder Burgess hadn't ever been held accountable because he'd died before any of it had come to light, and the younger Burgess had fallen into a coma. A care worker had ultimately taken a wrong turn, stumbled into the basement, and that was how the police were finally called to Fawney Rig. But since no one was alive (or conscious) for a big, thrilling trial, the entire ordeal just fizzled quietly into the background.

It’s not the whole story. But it's enough. 

Hob’s face grows progressively more horrified. He's abandoned his half-eaten pesto and prosciutto slice. It sits cold in front of him now. He feels sick.

“I make art,” Dream says into the silence. “It is not lucrative, but I can work when and how I wish. I have not… had a great deal of luck with traditional employment. Especially not since… those events.”

“Right. Of course." Hob's voice cracks over his words. For once, he's struggling to extract his usual chatter. "Can’t imagine anything’s easy after that.” 

Hob doesn't touch the remainder of his pizza, but Dream polishes his off. He looks oddly relaxed now, as if, in the telling, some of the weight of the horrifying story has slid from his body. 

“I’d love to see your art,” Hob says on the bus back to the plasma center parking lot. Belatedly, he cringes at the presumption, wondering if it's too much, knowing now that he really ought not to push his interest onto a bloody kidnap victim.

“I have a website,” Dream says, bringing it up on his phone and showing the address to Hob. Then he stands, though they're only about halfway back to the center. “This stop is closer to my home. I… Thank you. For the meal. And the kind ear. Perhaps… I will see you next Tuesday?”

“Of course,” Hob says, and a little bubble of happiness rises in his chest. “It’s Tuesday and Thursday for me until the schedule changes next term.”

Over the next few weeks, Hob isn’t always next to Dream on the donation floor. But he asks Dream to tell him about his latest project afterwards, so Dream has something to think about during the donation. And also so that it's not just Hob chattering away at their post-donation dinners. Which are happening regularly now. Sometimes they go for pizza, sometimes a good curry or a hefty shawarma; Hob introduces Dream to the pubs with the best (and biggest) burgers. He knows all the places to get a solid, filling dinner, not because he's concerned about getting his money's worth but because Hob just enjoys a good meal and he's more than happy to help put some meat on Dream's bones.

And get the artist to open up. 

Slowly, Dream begins to do just that.

It starts to seem like Dream feels safe with Hob. When they're out, he stands close to Hob, as if comforted by his presence. His shoulders begin to straighten out, and he hunches less when they're together. Dream's gaze is still alert, but it rarely sinks to the floor now, and his eyes don't flick fearfully around so much when he's with Hob. 

Three weeks after they meet, Dream lets Hob drive him home.

Two weeks after that, he invites Hob inside to see his current projects. 

Hob knew Dream was a good artist from the first glimpse at his website, but seeing the bright canvases in person is just stunning. The glistening abstractions echo the swirling galaxies and deep, black voids of the universe. The colors blend in fantastic points of light or unearthly flames or brilliant streaks across the sky. The textures — flattened out in the photos — give an impression of looking into entire worlds. The brushstrokes are mountain ranges and deep ocean trenches and shaded valleys where, somehow, Hob can imagine entire populations living and thriving within the fibers of the canvas.

"The, erm… the university has spaces for community exhibits," Hob says, struggling to bring himself out of the captivating images as if wading out of a dream. How appropriate. "I could look into that, see if you could do a show. Maybe the Art Department could have you in for a lecture, too — you could talk about the real-life challenges of being an artist, the actual work involved, the practical—" Oh no. He's being too much again. "I mean, of course, you don't have to! I won't say anything without—"

Dream's arms are around Hob's shoulders before Hob can even turn away from the canvas. His wild, dark hair is tucked against Hob's cheek as Dream tightens his grip.

Hob's hands slowly move to Dream's back. He can't speak for a long moment. Instead, his hands gently rub against the thin material of Dream's shirt. Hob can feel the edges of his spine and ribcage, but Dream also feels softer than Hob would've imagined the first time he saw him, pale and shaking, weeks ago.   

"Thank you," Dream murmurs. He steps back, and his gaze lowers, but now it's not filled with fear and sadness. He's smiling shyly. "If you could do that, I-I… would be grateful."

Hob can do that!

He's in Medieval History himself, but he's friends with half the Art History department due to overlapping lectures, the occasional historical consultation or spontaneous debate, and just being a friendly guy. And the Art History people know a few of the more curious, historically-aware Art people due to various collaborations and consultations on the evolution of modern styles and techniques and the socio-political contexts of artistic development. 

Hob, with his talent for striking up conversation, takes less than a week to find several interested parties. And once he shows them Dream's work, everyone is extremely eager to invite the talented local artist to campus!

The next time Hob walks into the plasma center, Dream is already beaming. His smile is bright enough to singlehandedly banish the residual storm cloud that always follows Hob over the threshold.

"I hit the next weight class," Dream says. He leans subtly into Hob's side.

"Good on you!" Hob says, beaming right back. When he tells Dream about the interest in his work, Dream's arm snakes around his waist for a subtle but firm half-hug.

At Dream's first show (he's already scheduled in with both the Art and Art History Departments — the latter wants to address the reality of artist's lives across time — and, hell, Hob's even lobbying his own History Department to get Dream in as part of a series on creative work throughout history), Hob is enamored with one canvas he hasn't seen before. From a distance it's a dark oil-slick abstraction with iridescent slashes of green and blue, but up close, Hob can see the feathery edges of wings.

He cannot explain the sudden, confusing wave of sorrow-joy-awe it provokes deep in his chest.

"Departed souls," Dream says softly, coming up behind Hob, "come back as ravens. Or so it is believed by some."

Hob sniffs and tries to control the itch in his eyes as he turns toward Dream. "Oh?"

"I painted this one soon after I regained my freedom. It felt like a part of me had not survived the imprisonment. It was… necessary, perhaps, to lose something in order to regain my life, but it hurt nonetheless."

"Oh." Hob doesn't know what else to say, but he reaches out, gingerly wrapping an arm around Dream, waiting for any hint of refusal, but Dream turns into him and clutches him tight, and Hob's arms tighten around him in turn. "It's beautiful," he finally says, his words muffled against Dream's hair. 

"I think now… maybe… some part of me that had not survived… has come back. In some form."

And Hob is gone. Tears leak down into Dream's hair. Hob clutches at him for support, but he can feel himself shaking, and now it's Dream rubbing soothing patterns into his back and tightening the embrace.

When they finally pull back, Dream wipes Hob's cheeks with his palm. He tilts his head in a silent question.

"Just… death," Hob says. "It's bloody stupid, isn't it? In all its forms. Necessary, maybe but stupid. I don't want any part of it."

Hob laughs at himself, as if the brash declaration itself is stupid. 

But Dream only nods; he can see that there are deep forces moving beneath Hob's usually cheery exterior. 

On the way home, he listens as Hob finally opens up about his wife and the unborn babe. After a decade, Hob says, the wound has closed up, he has "moved on" in all the ways one is supposed to move on, he has a new — and rather wonderful — life. But the scar will remain forever. It still hurts, but he's grateful for the life he had and the new one he's grown into.

"Shit," Hob says suddenly.

Dream looks around and realizes they haven't driven back to his own crappy apartment building. 

"Sorry." Hob wipes his eyes. "I've blabbered so much, I wasn't paying attention. Driven myself right home."

"It's alright," Dream says. He peeks over at Hob shyly. "I've never seen your place."

Hob blinks at him for a moment — Dream's heart thuds against his throat — and then, despite the tear tracks still drying on his cheeks, Hob's face breaks into a brilliant smile. 

"Are you hungry?" Hob asks. "I can actually cook quite well. It's not always pub food and pizza."

With perfect timing, Dream's stomach gives an almost painful rumble. "I'm starving."

Inside, Hob cooks a delectable dinner. Dream watches Hob move about the kitchen, chattering happily — he's already inviting Dream back over for brunch and maybe a Netflix marathon and Christmas. And Dream's mind is blossoming with new paintings, these ones bright with twining paths and colliding galaxies and shared dreams.

Hob is vaguely aware that he might be babbling into too much territory again, but when he sees Dream watching him with that dreamy sparkly in his eyes, his heart is just too full to care. As they eat together, he lets himself just be excited and not worry about reining himself in. Truly, he might not mind an eternity of this.

And Dream is thinking much the same thing.

[peachesvanilla]

Dancing with a stranger

description: A red string binds soulmates together, it never breaks or cut or dies down. In a world of pure love and hookups, what if your soulmate turns out to be the person you least expected? What if that person is your professor? Amidst desperation and constant reminder of the red string tying them together, will it get its happy ending or ends up in chaos or worst, with a hook up.

pairings: Baekhyun x reader (a surprise pairing if there's gonna be another part)

genres: angst, soulmate au, professor!Baekhyun, student!reader, age gap

warnings: unedited

taglist: @archernarbeta

part-1

I thought pain was getting scolded by my parents till high school, getting low grades till now. Failing in classes, falling behind everyone is the worst thing one can imagine, no, I can imagine. Never once have I thought that waking up one day to find out I won’t ever get my happy ending will feel like the world crashing.

If soulmates aren’t bound to be one then why are they soulmates? Why will there be a red string attached like a dreaded reminder? 

Ten year old me dreamt of holding hands with my soulmate after reading the fairy tale and walking into the happy ending just like the two soulmates in the story. Red string wrapping around us, air filled with magic, happiness and love. 

Fifteen year old me dreamt of crashing into him and falling into his arms like my parents. Maybe seal the divine meeting with a kiss. Perfect meet. One for the books. 

But as imaginative and hopeful one can be, life always throws you off track. Before him every pain I went through falls short. It ain’t even a single scratch compared to getting ignored by him. 

“Aren’t you coming to class?” Hyejin asks once again, concern written all over her face. “I know what you are going through but,” she holds my arm, “you can’t abandon everything. You need to pass his course to get into another semester.” 

I break away from her touch, sucking in a deep breath. “Yeah. I’ll come.” My voice breaks no matter how hard I try to act strong. It doesn’t matter anymore. He doesn’t care and now I don’t either. Going to the class must get easier now since a month has passed. I can sit in the class, look at him and not feel like dying. I haven’t known him for twenty one years and I can live without him for another forty. 

Hyejin perks up from getting a positive response. “Really? For real you are going to come into the class with me?” She holds my hand again, a bounce in her legs. “Thank god, I am so worried seeing you pine on him for weeks. I am happy you are getting back on track.”

I nod and she continues giving pep talk. “He ain’t that..” she trails off scratching her temple, “hotshot for you to waste your time on?” 

I snort, who is she kidding? There must be millions of girls ready to give up their soulmates if they can be with him. Even if it’s for only a single day. The girls in his cabin in the pretence of doubts but to just gawk at him some more. 

I flip onto my stomach away from Hyejin, blinking my tears away. The red string glows up the brightest it has ever been. I hate you. 

—

Fellow students standing outside the classroom gasps beside me, cupping their mouths and eyes shining brighter than the sun. I follow their gaze only to end up shattering all the courage I piled up. Mr.Byun is walking down the hallway, streaks of midday sunlight falling on him through the windows bringing out his fierce features more. Sharp eyes trained straight on the classroom, hair perfectly styled yet his authoritative steps makes a strand fall out onto his forehead. 

Hyejin groans and I look down at my shoes, dirt at the edges. We are different. Different age, different world and different perspectives. I can’t do this. I need to go. 

Mr.Byun walks past us before I can slip away and reminds us, “class is starting.”

I turn around and leave. Not today. Some other day I’ll be indifferent to everything about him. 

The red string around my little finger glows brighter, the string stretching more and more as the distance between us grows further. 

I read about the reason behind the sudden glow on the internet after yesterday’s sudden glow. It happens when the other person is thinking about you, not just a mere thought but borderline obsessed. 

I stop in my tracks, staring at it. Why? Why does he think about me when he doesn't even pay attention? It’s the second time. If only I can cut it off or tear it off or make it disappear then the pain will be less. There won’t be any hopes rising. His existence won’t hurt as much. 

—

“You can’t mop around your entire life!” Hyejin slams my room door open. It hits my wall, rattling the photo frames hung on it. “Do you think you are the only one going through it? Getting rejected by the soulmate is so common that the government had to set up campaigns and promote the benefits of being with soulmates.”

I flip over to my right side covering my duvet till my head. I can’t have another day spent listening to her giving a lecture. I already had enough from my parents. 

“God! I can’t with you.” She huffs, dragging my duvet away. “Wake up for fuck’s sake.” 

“Language!” My mother screams from the living room. 

She bites on her tongue before dropping on top of me. I groan under her weight. “You should consider yourself lucky, what if you went into the relationship and broke it off because he can’t understand your jokes due to the age difference. Who wants an old man anyway?”

“Get off.” I shove her to the side and bury myself deeper into the duvet. “We are destined to be, Hyejin. Do you know what that means? Even if he doesn’t know current trends, he will understand what I am feeling, what I am saying and what I,” I sit up, the duvet falling off my head. “am going through. The pain, the heartbreak, everything, everything. I know he knows what I am feeling now and what I want,” I raise my little finger, “because this doesn’t stop glowing.”

Hyejin's face softens, holding my hand she strokes my palm tenderly. “But baby, I heard it goes two ways. You are thinking about him too aren't you? That might be—”

“No.” I shake her hand off me, “you don’t understand. It's not one way. I know he wants to be with me. If not why would he be waiting till now? He could have hooked up with someone,  anyone. He can have girls with a snap of his fingers. But he didn’t.”

Hyejin flinches, averting her eyes away from me. “About that,” she sucks in a deep breath, “this isn’t confirmed but some student claimed that she saw Mr.Byun kissing some woman last saturday.”

“W-wha..” My lips quiver, tears falling down in an endless stream blurring my vision. “I-I do-don’t.. what?” 

She holds my palm pressing it firmly. “And,” her eyes soften as she says, “he wants you to meet him tomorrow.”

It’s too much. Everything is hitting me at once. Finding him, rejection, kissing another girl, wanting to meet. What is he really thinking? I close my eyes, sucking in a long breath. Is there any hope? I don’t think there will be any left. What if he meets me tomorrow and finds me attractive even a little, causing him to change his mind? But he is kissing someone else. That isn’t confirmed yet. 

I clutch my head, too many thoughts, and yet can’t come to one conclusion. Is he, is he playing with me? What if the rumour is true? It hasn’t been that long and yet he is looking for hookups? Does age play that important role? It’s not like I’m an underage girl. 

“You need not have to go.” Hyejin breaks in my train wreck of thoughts, saving me. “You can skip and just bear with him for two more months and we will be done with the semester.”

“I need to think about it.” 

“You don’t have to push yourself.” She pats my hair down. “Just move on from him and,” she points her thumb at my computer, “stop searching for soulmate reconciliation stories. Everyone’s different.” 

I nod not really listening to her. Should I meet him or not? 

—

I pace around the hallway, biting my nails while sneaking anxious glances at the closed cabin door. The cabin area is eerily silent today, amplifying the sound of my heart beat. What if he changed he is not there or worse what if he is occupied with some other girl. 

The door to his cabin opens up with a squeak, startling me out of my anxieties. “Come in.” Mr. Byun leaves the door open, not before his eyes run all over my face. Did his eyes turn droopier than they have already been. 

He sits on the edge of the table, clasping his hands on his lap. His shoulders sagged, a small smile on his pink lips and bags under his eyes. His entire room smells of a mix of vanilla and something stronger than the delicate vanilla.  

“Have a seat.” He pushes the chair beside his legs, patiently waiting for me. 

I settle down on the chair, waiting for him to speak. Please be good news. Tell me you are going to be my man. Please. Please, I beg fate with my entire heart in utter desperation. 

Mr.Byun gives a painful half smile like he heard my prayers. “How are you doing?” 

The unimpressed thin line of his lips, his jumpy attention from me to the door leaves me with scenarios bugging my mind. Why is he constantly looking at the door? Does he want me to leave already? Or is he scared someone might walk in? 

The thought alone leaves a sour taste in my mouth, my chest feels stuffy and my heart doesn’t slow down for a second. I clutch the chair handle in hopes of some support will help me in staying still and not lose my sight and ball up. 

Mr.Byun frowns at my hand holding the handle, he chews on his lower lip. “Are you okay?”

“Why did you want to meet me, Mr.Byun?” I level my voice, straightening up and faking my confidence. I can’t let him see more of my pathetic state than I already displayed the last few days. 

He blinks in surprise, opens his mouth and closes a few times. He sighs, his shoulders slouching and addresses the main reason he called me in for. “I felt like a jerk after treating you harshly when I.. when we…” his eyes fall on his pinky finger, the red string comes to life, to the other end wrapped around mine, “found out.” 

His voice falls to a whisper like sharing a secret even the walls shouldn’t hear. My heart tears a little on the edges. 

“Only then?” I raise my chin, looking straight in his eyes. “What about now?” 

He averts his attention to the wall behind me. “You need to understand me too, kiddo. We are like years apart,” he flails his hands around lost in explanation, “I wasn’t expecting this, more like, you to be my partner.”

My heart tears more and more with every word leaving his mouth. 

He gasps realising his true feelings slipped out. “I-I.. didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just read somewhere that fate pairs people who complement each other.”

He slides down from the table, his thigh brushes my arm in the process. My heart tingles at the touch, a wave of calmness spreads across me, my shivering hands pause. I close my eyes feeling the peace even for a second. 

I opened my eyes, surprised to see him standing close to me, staring at my hand. He shifts from one leg to another, cupping his mouth with one hand and holding his waist in another. Did he feel the same too? 

Will he feel a little different about me now? 

Mr.Byun walks away from me, running his hands through his perfectly styled hair. “We don’t complement each other.” 

I stare at his back, the tips of his hair poking his neck, the hints of broad shoulders when he flexes his hand, the perfectly tailored suit to his body proportions. No matter how I look at him, he is the one filling every check of the person I imagined my soulmate to be. 

“We don’t.” I lied. 

He doesn’t say anything and just stands near the door of his cabin. I dip my head, a few tears fall onto my lap. This is the end, isn’t it? He wants to have the last talk and end everything. 

“We can’t be together,” his voice is barely a whisper. “We are standing on opposite sides, kiddo, we can’t ever cross our paths.” He turns to me, leaning on the door. “This isn’t meant to be. We aren’t meant to be.” 

I nod. 

“I hope you find someone with whom you can live happily, without any constraints.” Please stop talking. “You can find love outside too. There are so many who did.” 

“That’s for me to decide, Mr.Byun.” I draw the line. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He rubs his nape, “yeah. I… wish you happiness. And please attend the classes and submit assignments. Extra credit assignments won’t be of any help anymore considering your score now.” 

I nod. 

“Do you have anything to say?” 

I stared at the side of his neck which became visible from his movements. “Cover your hickeys.” 

I pick my bag and march to the door. He gulps. “Move.” I ordered. He does. “Asshole.” Tears cascaded down my cheeks and didn't stop till I reached home. 

That night I decided to erase the line I have drawn around me. I sent a text to my friend. 

Wanna go clubbing? 

[goryhorroor]

my full complete list of dvds/vhs'

nosferatu (1922)

casper (1995)

28 days later (2002)

the wizard of oz (1939)

e.t. (1982)

terminator 2: judgement day (1991)

the hunger (1983)

a nightmare on elm street 3: dream warriors (1987)

the faculty (1998)

forbidden planet (1956)

hook (1991)

willy wonka & the chocolate factory (1971)

jurassic park (1993)

the beast from 20,000 fathoms (1953)

creature from the black lagoon (1954)

tarantula (1955)

the day the earth stood still (1951)

abbot and costello meet frankenstein (1948)

abbott and costello meet the mummy (1955)

witchfinder general (1968)

the adventures of young indiana jones (1999)

eve's bayou (1997)

ugetsu (1953)

the man who knew too much (1956)

the phantom of the opera (1925)

alice sweet alice (1976)

gallery of horror (1967)

dream no evil (1970)

house of the living dead (1974)

the clown murders (1976)

dracula's daughter (1936)

misery (1990)

my world dies screaming (1958)

night of the living dead (1968)

return of the jedi (1983)

boardinghouse (1982)

lake placid (1999)

almost famous (2000)

thelma & louise (1991)

flashdance (1983)

harry potter & the philopsopher's stone (2001)

blazing saddles (1974)

stripped to kill (1987)

legend of the werewolf (1975)

the parent trap (1961)

the mummy (1999)

fried green tomatoes (1991)

zodiac (2007)

princess mononoke (1997)

the thing (1982)

erin brockvich (2000)

friday the 13th (1980)

the strangers (2008)

final destination 3 (2006)

from dusk till dawn (1996)

event horizon (1997)

tron: legacy (2010)

the ring (2002)

paranormal activity (2007)

crimson peak (2015)

scream 3 (2000)

scream 2 (1997)

fatal attraction (1987)

twister (1996)

cape fear (1991)

goodnight mommy (2014)

the stepford wives (1975)

pretty woman (1990)

funny girl (1968)

sister act (1992)

the game (1997)

the outsiders (1983)

girl interrupted (1999)

the terminator (1984)

the crow (1994)

interview with the vampire (1994)

the orphan (2009)

it (1990)

carrie (1976)

the innkeepers (2011)

hansel & gretel: witch hunters (2013)

the changeling (1980)

trick 'r treat (2007)

the matrix (1999)

gattaca (1997)

cruel intentions (1999)

jaws (1975)

dazed and confused (1993)

the mummy (1932)

manhunter (1986)

valentine (2001)

[masterhallmark]

I'm really sick of the "Pirates are Lost Boys who grew up and escaped Pan" theory

1) The book is a children's story, not a horror novel.

2) The idea Peter kills boys who grow up is based on one throwaway line that says he "thins them out" if there are too many, which can mean several different things.

3) HOOK WAS A PIRATE WITH A CREW BEFORE LANDING IN NEVERLAND! He literally has a backstory in the book and several speeches J.M. Barrie gave about going to Eton, running away, and becoming a pirate. The crew arrived in Neverland AS IS.

4) The book mentions Peter will travel with the souls of dying kids halfway to the afterlife so they aren't scared. He also desperately begs children to save Tinkerbell, tries to sacrifice himself for Wendy, saves Tiger Lilly while commenting that the pirates were being unfair when capturing her, even tries to help Hook regain his footing during a fight, and saves the Neverbird's eggs from being destroyed. Does that sound like a psychopath to you?

5) The ONLY TIME we see Peter try to kill a Lost Boy is when he mistakenly thinks said Lost Boy killed Wendy, and said Lost Boy told Peter to kill him. Once it turns out Wendy is alive, not only is the boy forgiven, but the only punishment Tinkerbell (the actual culprit) gets is banishment.

The entire purpose of the book is to contrast the innocence of youth with the responsibilities of adulthood. The negative traits Peter has are meant to show the dangers of refusing to grow up, while Hook is meant to show the dangers of growing up TOO much. Hook OBSESSES over good form and acting proper to the point he almost FAINTS when Wendy sees a stain on his shirt.

Also, the entire book "Peter and Wendy" and every other variation of the story JM Barrie wrote is FREE on the internet. Anyone can read it RIGHT HERE http://neverpedia.com/pan/Read:Peter_and_Wendy

There is no good reason for this misinformation spreading. It is easily available.

Passages from the book under cut, since last time I posted something like this someone tried to argue with me

At first Mrs. Darling did not know, but after thinking back into her childhood she just remembered a Peter Pan who was said to live with the fairies. There were odd stories about him, as that when children died he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be frightened.

-----

"It lifted Michael off the ground," he cried; "why should it not carry you?"

"Both of us!"

"It can't lift two; Michael and Curly tried."

"Let us draw lots," Wendy said bravely.

"And you a lady; never." Already he had tied the tail round her. She clung to him; she refused to go without him; but with a "Good-bye, Wendy," he pushed her from the rock; and in a few minutes she was borne out of his sight. Peter was alone on the lagoon.

The rock was very small now; soon it would be submerged. Pale rays of light tiptoed across the waters; and by and by there was to be heard a sound at once the most musical and the most melancholy in the world: the mermaids calling to the moon.

Peter was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last. A tremour ran through him, like a shudder passing over the sea; but on the sea one shudder follows another till there are hundreds of them, and Peter felt just the one. Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying, "To die will be an awfully big adventure."

------

Nevertheless the bird was determined to save him if she could, and by one last mighty effort she propelled the nest against the rock. Then up she flew; deserting her eggs, so as to make her meaning clear.

Then at last he understood, and clutched the nest and waved his thanks to the bird as she fluttered overhead. It was not to receive his thanks, however, that she hung there in the sky; it was not even to watch him get into the nest; it was to see what he did with her eggs.

There were two large white eggs, and Peter lifted them up and reflected. The bird covered her face with her wings, so as not to see the last of them; but she could not help peeping between the feathers.

I forget whether I have told you that there was a stave on the rock, driven into it by some buccaneers of long ago to mark the site of buried treasure. The children had discovered the glittering hoard, and when in a mischievous mood used to fling showers of moidores, diamonds, pearls and pieces of eight to the gulls, who pounced upon them for food, and then flew away, raging at the scurvy trick that had been played upon them. The stave was still there, and on it Starkey had hung his hat, a deep tarpaulin, watertight, with a broad brim. Peter put the eggs into this hat and set it on the lagoon. It floated beautifully.

The Never bird saw at once what he was up to, and screamed her admiration of him; and, alas, Peter crowed his agreement with her. Then he got into the nest, reared the stave in it as a mast, and hung up his shirt for a sail. At the same moment the bird fluttered down upon the hat and once more sat snugly on her eggs. She drifted in one direction, and he was borne off in another, both cheering.

-----

"It was poisoned, Peter," she told him softly; "and now I am going to be dead."

"O Tink, did you drink it to save me?"

"Yes."

"But why, Tink?"

Her wings would scarcely carry her now, but in reply she alighted on his shoulder and gave his nose a loving bite. She whispered in his ear "You silly ass," and then, tottering to her chamber, lay down on the bed.

His head almost filled the fourth wall of her little room as he knelt near her in distress. Every moment her light was growing fainter; and he knew that if it went out she would be no more. She liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful finger and let them run over it.

Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out what she said. Then he made it out. She was saying that she thought she could get well again if children believed in fairies.

Peter flung out his arms. There were no children there, and it was night time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of the Neverland, and who were therefore nearer to him than you think: boys and girls in their nighties, and naked papooses in their baskets hung from trees.

"Do you believe?" he cried.

Tink sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to her fate.

She fancied she heard answers in the affirmative, and then again she wasn't sure.

"What do you think?" she asked Peter.

"If you believe," he shouted to them, "clap your hands; don't let Tink die."

Many clapped.

Some didn't.

A few beasts hissed.

The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless mothers had rushed to their nurseries to see what on earth was happening; but already Tink was saved. First her voice grew strong, then she popped out of bed, then she was flashing through the room more merry and impudent than ever. She never thought of thanking those who believed, but she would have like to get at the ones who had hissed.

"And now to rescue Wendy!"

[my-mt-heart]

Do you think that with not mentioning spoilers but that due to Isabelle isn’t long for this world and her and Daryl relationship will barely get started before it ends. And with Carol continuing on to Spain with Daryl that there is chance they are going to pull a Rick Jessie/Michonne 3 way love story? Because it was evident for a long time Rick had a thing for Michonne but Blondie came along looking for a hero from her husband and her got Rick all caught up in there relationship and she died immediately and it open the door for Michonne and him to finally hook up after all. I think it would be a severe dis service to Carol that Daryl waits till after Leah, and especially after Isabella to finally act on his feelings for her character no doubt. Especially when’ his character is doing exactly what Norman said he didn’t want that to happen, to be the smooth guy to hook up with first young hot girl that showed him interest. And he wanted it to be a deep soulful connection. In other shows they have history of characters who were stuck in the will thy or won’t they type relationship/friendship for yearsss and had multiple other relationships but that other person was closer to them then who they are dating like Law and Order and xfiles..All I know is that after this bullshit of a season Carol stays with Daryl and heads to Spain. For the first time in EVER, they have nothing to holding them back, no one else’s drama, other ppls kids, missing ppl to find, no war to fight…They are FREE over all the bullshit they have dealt with for 14 years. They have devoted their lives to taking care of everyone else and putting their own needs and their own lives aside. They are both so selfless and loving, now as they head off to Spain they can finally purge all things they should have dealt with between one another years ago. But they both constantly put every one’s else needs before there’s. It’s a fresh new beginning, freedom, nothing holding them down and back. I don’t trust Zabel, I despise him, but all the HORRIBLE reviews that are flooding the web. Might open his eyes that he screwed up and better fix things.

People like Zabel and Gimple don't "open their eyes" or lean into what fans want. They just do whatever they want unless someone stops them.

Caryl have a very unique history, so that needs to be respected. You can't just give them the same tropes that other relationships had because what fits for others won't fit for them. A love triangle is definitely a trope that doesn't fit. Leah was a terrible decision, Isabelle an even worse one, especially after the backlash that Leah got (always count on AMC to make the same mistake twice). With Leah though, it was heavily implied that Daryl was with her because he couldn't have Carol. Do I approve of female characters being used as plot devices? No, but it has to be shown that Daryl and Carol are each other's first and only choice. The payoff has to be worth the pain. Throwing Isabelle and Daryl together just felt like a "fuck you" to fans who thought they were tuning in for Caryl.

[beheba8]

since one direction came into my life, every version of me that has existed has loved them.

at 12, i only knew the words to one thing. at 15, i got to introduce the same song to my 6 year old brother at the time who loved it so much that he would constantly make me play it on my tablet and we would jam out together. it is a core memory of mine.

and not long after, i was watching “one direction funny moments” compilations till early hours of the morning, i was so hooked.

at 14, “1D” was spray painted in massive font on my bedroom door. how i got away with putting straight up black paint on a wooden door is beyond me, but remnants of that sign exist to this day in my childhood bedroom. the same bedroom where, for 4 beautiful years, i got to build a sense of self, and get into a lot of fights on the internet, thanks to these five men.

anyone who knows me irl will tell you that to this day, even as a 25 year old college graduate, i credit my understanding of the english language to the fact that i read a lot (and i truly mean a LOT) of one direction fanfiction on wattpad. before watching your favourite concerts on a grainy livestream was a thing, teenage me was getting up at unholy hours to go on youtube and watch every single concert video from the night before. and not only did i follow OTRA from the other side of the world, i stayed in bed for 7 hours straight on 1D day.

i sobbed for hours upon hours in March of 2015, and then again for their last tour stop at Sheffield, and one more time after their performance of History on X-factor. sadness came to me easily- it was the only plausible way to feel in times like these.

i can’t say the same for myself today. i was at my desk at work, doing something on excel for a project, when i got a text from my friend, yelling at me in all caps that a member of one direction- the band that i love so dearly that even at my grown age i refuse to discuss in front of people who know me in real life because they simply won’t get it- has died. my heart sank to the floor, and i couldn’t believe that i’m meant to go about my work day as if everything is normal.

liam’s death made me dissociate from real life from the minute i heard to about ten minutes ago when i started typing this out. knowing and understanding the one direction fandom means that i knew instantly that the public noise surrounding this news will be vapid and abhorrent- especially for his victims who have been courageous enough to speak out about the abuse they have been put through by this man. the exhaustion i felt when i logged onto twitter on the 16th, from the god awful things people were putting out into the world with no regard for the very real people who are being affected by his death, is unfortunately as eerily close to 2013-2015 as i have ever felt.

much like 2013-2015, though, i couldn’t do anything but keep going on twitter. seeing posts from long dead 1D stan accounts who were the only people who could understand the deep confusion and sadness that i was feeling. my timeline hasn’t been this inundated with pure one direction content in many many years, and these were the only people who made me feel less alone. og directions, who have for a while now stopped being a supporter of liam payne for the terrible things he has done since the band’s dissolution, are the only ones who know how confusing this grief has felt.

and then came the joint statement, signed in order of oldest to youngest, from louis, zayn, niall, and harry, and their tributes to one of the 5 (now 4) people in the world who lived through the phenomenon that changed the course of music history for the rest of time. the versions of liam that each of them chose to share with the rest of the world, their love for him, and even the regrets that came from the distance that grew between them- that hurt me more than my own sorrow. at the end of the day, you can’t really take the parasocial obsession out of the teenage girl who lives in me.

i’m sad that in the wake of his death, those he has harmed are going to be unfairly and unjustifiably blamed by the insufferable people who refuse to accept that death does not absolve someone of their wrongdoings.

i’m sad over the loss of a human life, and the loss of the version of one direction- the ot5 version- that is now gone forever. the same one direction that gave me so much joy, helped me through unspeakable pain, and will mean so much to me for as long as i am alive.

[mr-1-2-3-4]

Backstory brief- Popcorn

When he was 9 after his father was murdered and finding his body it just scared him. Two days later he forced to go live with his mother, who was the farthest thing from the best mother in the world, as soon as she seen his patch of different color skin on his face, she immediately grabbed him roughly and drag him to the bathroom and made him strip down and throw him some makeup and yelled

“I can’t believe god gave me a child as disgusting as you, cover all your skin patches on your face and chest now, I can’t be seen with you like that at church”

Popcorn who was already scared from being stripped just nodded wiping away his tears and did what she ask, as she kept yelling at him to stop crying because he was wasting her makeup from his tears, when Popcorn was done she dragged him to the basement where they was nothing much, just a dresser with church clothes and one outfit to sleep in that he would freeze in, she threw him on the floor due to a lack of bed and threw some clothes at him which he quickly got dressed in, his mother took his other clothes which was a black hoodie with a snake on it and she yelled at him saying how embarrassing it is for her to have him there and wearing a hoodie with a snake on it. When she left and locked the door, not even feeding Popcorn, he just curled up in a corner and looked around the dark basement. He already had a fear of the dark and had to be locked in it which made it worse. He just sat in cried in the basement the whole night, and then was woken up the next morning with little to no sleep by his mother yelling at him to get dressed for church which he quickly did out of fear

School life-

The Christian boarding school was one of those ones where kids were allowed to get hit and disciplined. Popcorn would mainly take the blame, especially for one little girl who would mess up a bit because of her lack of strength, one time she accidentally dropped her bible and a nun asked who did it, so Popcorn swapped their bibles and slip her bible over to his feet and stood up and said he did it, which didn’t end to well from him. But as much as he wanted to keep the girl safe, she died to a sickness that the school didn’t do anything about, this happened when he was 13 and ever since then he just has had dead eyes, and just gave up and got hooked up on something

Home-

He stayed with his mom until he was 17 until he just finally snapped, wiping off the makeup on his face, when she went to hit him, Pops just grabbed her arm and broke it, snapping it in half. His mother screamed but before she could Pops punched her and just continued to beat her until she wasn’t moving, he honestly didn’t feel bad, after everything that happened to him he just had enough. He packed a bag nothing much due to lack of stuff he had, just money he stole from his mother, some food, a knife, and some keys to a motorcycle his dealer gave him, before he left he poured gasoline all over the house and set the house ablaze and rode off, letting the place burn

The girl-

The girl was a little girl about 10 or 8, she wasn’t the strongest due to her sickness, she didn’t like when Popcorn took the blame for her, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to take the punishment, she helped Popcorn’s mental health before she died, she couldn’t have been more grateful for Popcorn’s help, and always called him Nicky, Pops hates the nickname now it makes him think of his childhood. And he would have done anything to save that little girl.

Facts-

Pops continues to wear makeup on his face till this day, out of habit and not liking how he just has a big patch of skin lighter then his normal skin color on his face, he doesn’t like it when people stare, but he doesn’t bother with the one of his chest, the only person he’ll let call him Nicky is [RED]

@kings-out-of-pocket-hell

[legolasghosty]

Yeah @innytoes has captured me with fae magic and now I'm hooked on her Kidnapped by the Fae AU so... I'm sorry.

Alex couldn't sleep. Like he actually physically couldn't fall asleep. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago. Even Willie had drifted off on the couch, their breaths coming out in little adorable hums. But Alex couldn't drift off, no matter how hard he tried.

When he closed his eyes, all he could see were the dark trees, the twinkling lights, the swirling figures, the constant demands for faster, Faster, FASTER! as his hands flew over the drums. And his own body, helpless to do anything but obey. To serve his master. With pure devotion and without question.

Each time the fae went to sleep, Alex never could. The feeling of suddenly having control of his own limbs was too odd. Too unfamiliar. Too much.

And now it was like that all the time. If he wanted to stand up, he could. If he wanted to stay exactly where he was, no invisible strings stopped him. It was incredible. It was freeing. It was terrifying.

Because with no one to tell him what to do and where to go, no intangible hand on the back of his neck directing him, how could he know if he was doing it right?

The Molinas had been kind so far. They'd allowed them to live in their garage, eat their food, even loaned them some of the father's old clothes to wear. They'd shown them the magic of new technology, though that wasn't always the smoothest lesson. Alex grimaced at the memory of when sparks had suddenly begun to fly from the microwave because Luke had put that...tinfoil? stuff inside with his food. The Molinas had been upset but hadn't hurt them over it. They'd been kind. But the fae had been kind at first too.

At first, Alex had wondered if he'd died, alone in the forest, and was in some form of afterlife. He was offered food and fine clothing and music by the effervescent beings that inhabited this new plane. They'd enjoyed his drumming and hadn't seemed to mind when his eyes drifted to a young man with dark hair and a smile that made Alex's heart skip a beat.

They had been kind and welcoming to him. Until he made a mistake.

Things changed after that. Who was to say that wouldn't happen again? That the Molinas wouldn't run out of patience with him and he wouldn't become a prisoner and an outcast yet again.

Alex knew it would happen. It had happened with his first two homes, why not this one? So if he wanted to stay here, with his family and his lover, he couldn't make any mistakes. Couldn't give them any reason to throw him away like the used toy he was. But how could he know what was wrong if no one was directing his every move?

He couldn't. So he was doomed.

"Alex?"

Alex jumped, almost losing his footing on the dark tiles of the house roof. He whirled around to see Julie, the girl who had first found them, staring at him through an open, second-story window.

"What are you doing out on the roof?" she asked, blinking rapidly.

Oh. Well, this must be it. Alex thought he could hold out a bit longer.

"I'm so sorry, I know I shouldn't be on the house," he said quickly, holding out hope that maybe she would at least let him stay till morning. "I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake anyone and I knew there weren't any bedrooms around here so I just... I'm sorry-"

"Woah, slow down," Julie said, cutting him before he could say anything else. "No need to be sorry, you're not doing anything wrong, I just... wasn't expecting to see you sitting on the roof of my house at 3 am."

"Oh," Alex said, because he wasn't sure what else to say. She wasn't upset?

"Also, I know you have the whole-" Julie waved a hand around helplessly, "-magic thing going on, but hanging out on the roof isn't exactly the safest spot."

Alex shrugged. "I didn't think anyone would care," he replied honestly. Willie might be a little sad if he fell off the roof and broke his neck, but they'd get over it. There were so many people in the world to love, Willie wouldn't be alone for long.

Julie frowned. "Of course we would care if you got hurt," she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "You did see how freaked my dad got the other day when Reggie burned himself on the stove, right?" She took a deep breath, then added, "You guys may not have come into our lives in a very...traditional way, but you're family now."

Alex was helpless to do anything but stare at her. Because, well, 'family' by blood wasn't something he had much respect for, but the way she said it felt more like when Luke called them that, back before they escaped. Like it actually meant something real.

"Note to self, Alex has even bigger trust issues than I thought," Julie muttered around a yawn. Then she offered him a hand. "Come on, we can crash on the couches downstairs and watch a movie or something. Just chill out for a bit."

It felt like a trap. A personal invitation into someone's space had always been a trap in the fae realm. But...maybe that wasn't how it was here? At least not with Julie?

Alex bit his lip, but accepted her hand and clambered in through the open window.

"Come on, I need to show you Dirty Dancing," Julie decided, keeping hold of his hand as she closed the window and led him downstairs. "I think you'll love it!"

And Alex did. Or at least he loved the first 30 minutes of it that he was awake for.

[elizacinnamon]

I figured you had probably answered something similar, though that was more what you would have wanted vs what you think they actually would have done, which is what I was curious about. Like if you think Barchie would have had any issues leading up to the wedding, how far into the season you think the wedding would have happened or who might have come back for it, how long you think the Choni reunion would have taken or how it might have come to fruition, if you think Kevin would've stayed with Moose or gotten back with Fangs after he was single, if Veggie would have been endgame, if anyone else would have died, if there'd be another murder mystery, what Jughead might have been up to. But I did kind of get a bit of an answer with being glad they didn't do a straight forward current season because of what might have happened because I agree that Roberto would have fucked it up in some way or another.

It’s hard to imagine what I actually think would happen at this point because I’ve been quite sure Roberto would’ve fucked it up after witnessing Season 7. But let me get back into my 6x22 headspace a bit. Here’s what I think might’ve realistically happened if the plots continued as they were.

The first episode would’ve been about aftermath. The aftermath of the comet (who didn’t survive) and relationship aftermath. Archie and Betty would have a discussion at the end of the episode where they agree they want to be engaged (and it wasn’t just an end-of-the-world discussion) and announce it to their families and friends. Knowing Riverdale, this would’ve led to little drama but I would’ve loved it to lead to some genuine conversations between the core four re: the past.

Cheryl and Toni would have lingering feelings post hook-up. Tangs would have issues immediately, especially if baby Anthony remained a grown-up and they just had to hang out together. This would lead to Toni spending more and more time with Cheryl. I personally would’ve wanted a cheating plot and would’ve wanted them to get together sooner for content but realistically think it would’ve been end of season.

Betty and Archie don’t break up but end up delaying/postponing their wedding plans when Archie starts fostering Uncle Frank’s son after he dies (RIP Frank, would’ve been a nice plot point). But there’s some tension with them both being busy. Betty’s training to be a therapist and Archie’s parenting but eventually they both have a breakthrough and agree to fight harder for each other. And also realize they’ve putting off wedding planning for no good reason. This would lead to them eloping or getting married very last minute in one of their backyards/Pop’s with their friends and family. The wedding would be the second to last episode of the season.

There would be an episode in the middle of the season when both Betty/Archie get MAJOR baby fever and they start trying but it’s kind of chaotic with their busy schedules. They eventually pause and decide to wait till they’re married and they adjust to being foster parents. But at the end of the season, Betty randomly finds out she’s pregnant and tells Archie the night before/after their wedding. The last episode is a jump forward when their baby (I say Freddie but the show likely would’ve given them twins) already born or being born. So no big pregnancy plot.

Veronica would’ve been back and forth in NY and Riverdale. She would’ve had a hard time with Betty and Archie’s wedding. She eventually starts her own empire and has many wild affairs. Veggie doesn’t get back together but Reggie tries (he ends with a random girlfriend).

Kevin meets Clay in the present and moves to New York. Fangs gets with a new girl (like Midge in the 50s). It’s not super dramatic.

I feel this is controversial but I feel like Jabitha would have tension with her on the road for Pop’s. Jughead finally writes a novel and finds himself writing about her as the angel/core of Riverdale and it leads to them reuniting. Very sweet and pure.

And, as I always say, it ends with everyone in Riverdale celebrating the Fourth of July in a one year jump forward. Veronica, in her full NYC/Paris glam, walks into Pops and sees Barchie like the pilot but they have baby/babies with them! Cheryl and Toni are happily escaping Riverdale to somewhere like California but want to put on one last Blossom Fireworks show before they do. It’s happy and peaceful. And some bs about Jughead writing the story as always. The end.

Let me know your thoughts and if I left anyone/anything out!

[ad-astra-per-aspera1976]

Back in 1990, they started these ads for a new tv show saying “Who Killed Laura Palmer?” And I was hooked cuz I love murder mysteries.

Of course being made by David Lynch meant it was a LOT more than just a simple mystery. It was ALL KINDS OF FUCKED UP! That I don’t even understand till 20 years after the fact. Well I mean if you can ever figure out what the fuck David lynch is doing cuz he’s a fuck ing weirdo.

Then they did the prequel movie set leading up to her murder, and that was even more fucked up!

And Lynch’s daughter wrote the “Diary of Laura Palmer” which is from the show and it’s basically her diary from age 13 to before she dies.

And it was 100000000 times more fucked up shit. And HORRIFYING the things done to her and things she did.

And I’ve never not been obsessed with that world since then. Back in 1991, I was 15 and even visited the town in Washington state where it was filmed. I saw the high school, the downtown, the hotel with the waterfall, the diner and the road house. I still have pictures in a drawer somewhere.

Anyhoo I’ve just always wanted some tattoos to celebrate my obsession and finally got it 33 years later.

[jadedandconfusedao3]

Questionable Leadership

The next day found Regulus in the rudest possible way. There was a loud banging that seemed to reverberate around his head, and he thought that it was possibly just the effects of his truly magnificent hangover until he opened his eyes. At that moment, the door burst open, and Severus swept into the room, a look of disgust on his face.

“You have class in ten minutes!” he hissed, “you’ve missed breakfast, the students are all starting to move to class and you’re” – Severus finally looked down at Regulus’ dishevelled form and frowned – “you’re naked.”

Regulus blinked up at him as he tried to focus on his pale face and hook nose. The world was threatening to tip and his vision was still distinctly fuzzy. He pointed wordlessly at his bedside table and opened and closed his mouth, failing to make a sound. He wanted to say, I do say Severus old chap would you mind passing me a pepper up potion from my bedside drawer.

What he actually said was: “Paaaaannnnnnnggggg.”

He licked his lips and tried again. “Poooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrflth.”

Severus made a sound of disgust and pulled open the drawer. He thrust the potion into Regulus’ hands and turned around.

“Must you do this every day?” he scolded.

Regulus threw back the first potion with a swift action that made his head swim. He could feel the steam push out of his ears as the warmth made its way through his body. His vision cleared and he could finally make out Severus’ perfectly pressed black robes and rigid back.

He gulped back the second potion and the pain thundering through his brain subsided.

“Couldn’t you at least try to be a respectful human being?” Severus asked.

Regulus pushed shakily up to his feet. “Tried that. Almost died. Wasn’t a fan.”

Severus sighed and turned again so that his back was still facing Regulus as he walked past to get to his drawers.

“You can’t use that as an excuse forever. The war was terrible for everyone, you know.”

Regulus cast a quick Scourgify on himself before pulling on a dark green suit. It was one of his favourites. He wanted to impress Albus today and he was not off to a good start. With a matched black shirt, floral tie and grey robes, he cut a striking figure as he looked at himself in the mirror, at least from the neck down. Above that, his face looked like he had spent half the night drinking, which unfortunately, is exactly what he had done.

He glared at his reflection and fired a transfiguration spell at the dark circles under his eyes and the vacant holes in his cheeks. Fake it till you make it baby. Now, he just had to hope it would hold until lunchtime.

He swept past Severus out into the corridor.

“Now is not the time for loitering Severus,” he admonished, “we have classes to teach.”

Read more on Ao3