#and i've got to write a history essay before school starts

[ilottcallum]

i am practicing my time management skills at 2.47am

[bucketslutz]

Don't Be Late (Professer Logan Howlett/Fem Student Mutant Reader)

Chapter Summary: Logan's behavior continues to intrigue you as you begin to struggle to hide your feelings towards him.

A/N: I've never churned out a chapter so fast before. i'm having a lot of fun writing this!

Warnings: Smut, 18+, minors DNI!!, unprotected p in v, dirty talking, logan talks you through it lowk, grinding, swearing, no use of Y/N, pet names for reader tho🤭

Word Count: 4,040

Chapter 2

The door to the classroom creaks open loudly causing you to turn your head abruptly from your notebook, finding Logan staring at you incredulously. Adamant to not repeat the same mistake as you did Monday, you arrived at class 15 minutes early this morning. You smile awkwardly and look back to your notes, trying not to pay him any mind, despite that familiar swirl deep in your stomach telling you to jump him right then and there.

“Early bird today huh, bub?” Logan chides, his sudden display of humor surprising you. You chuckle, unsure of how to respond.

“Yeah, getting used to that commute, Monday I was too late, today I’m too early, what can ‘ya do?” you reply, laughing lightly, not to Logan’s amusement, however, who glares at you like a horn protruded from your skull as he settles himself at the head of the classroom. You clear your throat and go back to your notes. So, he’s funny, but he doesn’t like small talk, got it. You think to yourself, becoming even more confused by his demeanor. You couldn’t find anything about him online last night, not a social media post, no articles, no information about his credentials besides a flimsy description on the school’s website that describes him as having a “masters degree in the history of american wars,” whatever that means. It doesn’t say where his degree is from either. Everything about this man is clouded in obscurity.

You jump slightly when Logan slams a piece of paper in front of you. Glancing upwards, attempting to meet his gaze, you’re confused to see he’s already turned away from you and walking to the front of the room. You look down at the paper to see it’s the attendance sheet, your name already has a check mark next to it. Before you can even mutter a thanks, people have already started to file into class and you swallow any more potential verbiage that may escape your mouth, not wanting anyone to perceive you.

…

“Professor Howlett, I’m not quite sure I understand,” a brunette in the front row pouts, “Could I see you after class?” she asks suggestively, flicking her hair and resting her pencil between her lips. Her attempt to subtly gain Logan’s attention almost makes you laugh.

“It’s Logan. And no,” he snaps, not breaking his focus from the dates he’s writing on the board. The girl scoffs in surprise and sits back in her chair in defeat, looking at her friends on her right and left like she couldn’t believe he would rebuff her like that. It’s not lost on you now that Logan is very attractive, at least, you’re not the only person who finds him attractive; maybe not the only person who has had a lewd wet dream about him either. Why that girl would attempt to be so bold is beyond you, seeing as Logan is so goddamn terrifying. Just one look from him makes you want to crawl into a shell and never come out again.

“Friday’s essay—I want you to write about independence,” Logan asserts, leaning against the whiteboard and nonchalantly crossing his arms. The room is quiet, some people even looking around for clarification, yourself included. The brunette in the front row raises her hand causing Logan to roll his eyes and nod in her direction, affirming her request.

“I’m sorry, like, do you mean what independence means? Or how it played a part in the revolutionary war? Or, like, what it means to maybe fight for it in the modern era?” she asks carefully, not wanting him to snap at her again. Logan considers her for a moment.

“Yeah, sure,” he concedes with a shrug of his shoulders. There’s still an air of confusion hanging in the room. You’re struggling to understand how this man made it past a vetting process to secure his position in the first place. Logan looks at his watch, sighing in relief. “That’s all I’ve got. See ‘ya Monday.”

Logan wastes no time in collecting his coat and briefcase and rushing out of the classroom. Everyone pauses, sharing glances of bewilderment. You avoid eye contact with others, opting to just quietly collect your things and depart with the one or two stragglers who’ve made the same choice you did.

…

It’s painfully slow at the store. You had hoped there was inventory that needed to be stocked, or a shipment, or cleaning, a robbery even. But there’s no action here. The only customers being two teenagers who bought candy and soda after school, an old man and a case of beer, and an old lady with a pack of smokes. That’s it. That’s all you’ve seen for the past 5 hours. The free time at least allows you to work on Logan’s essay for Friday. The vague topic gave you quite a bit of room to work, it’s a good thing you have a lot to say or else you would’ve had a much harder time working on this. The store’s door opens with a jingle, the bells hanging by the hinge shaking, the sound draws your attention.

You’re surprised to see Logan entering, broad shoulders tucked into a brown leather jacket. He scans the store and eventually makes eye contact with you. Your breath hitches when you notice the chest hair peaking out from beneath his wife beater, the tank top revealing slightly more of his chiseled physique than you’re used to seeing. You involuntarily clench at the thought of what he might look like without that tank top on…No. You shake the thought from your head, trying to keep your composure despite your growing arousal towards your professor; an arousal that only started from that damned wet dream.

Boots click against the linoleum tile towards the register you’re situated behind. Logan slams a case of Budweiser onto the counter as he rifles through his wallet for cash. You quietly ring him up.

“Get me two Arturos,” he instructs, rather impolitely. You look at him, he doesn’t even attempt to make eye contact. You decide to make a little joke, seeing as he was feeling so humorous this morning.

“What’s the magic word?” you coo, teasingly, through a friendly smile. Logan finally looks up at you through slightly raised brows.

“Go fuck yourself.” Logan was not in a teasing mood.

You purse your lips in embarrassment and defeat as you retrieve two Arturo cigars from behind you. With a sigh, you ring him up and tell him his total. He pays in cash. As you’re loading the bills into the register, Logan hesitates before leaving.

“What’re you doing working this far out of town? Aren’t there better stores to work at closer to campus?” he questions. You try to hide your surprise at his inquiry before answering.

“Oh, uh, I don’t live too far from here. It’s an easier commute when I’m not taking classes,” you answered, trying to be as matter of fact as you can possibly be. Logan chuckles.

“No offense, but how can you afford a place over here? Who the hell died and left you their place?” he asks, resting a hand on his hip. You swallow hard, not wanting to draw too much attention to the peculiarity of your living arrangement. Houses over here are expensive, there’s only farmland on acreage that can be worth millions. But sometimes a plot of land can be cheaper than a whole house, and a whole house is something that you can manage to manifest with your powers by consuming around 25,000 calories a day. You offer Logan the same answer you’ve prepared for anyone else who might question you this way.

“I used to rent here until my landlord passed away and left me the property. I’m just lucky, I guess,” you explained with a shrug of your shoulders, trying to hide your nerves. You tug at the hem of your polo, hoping that’s the last of his line of questioning. Logan just offers a simple nod of understanding, before turning around and heading towards the door.

“What about you?” you blurt out, shocking yourself with your own abruptness and sudden want to continue the conversation. Logan turns on his heel and stares at you in confusion.

“Whaddya mean?” he asks, narrowing his hazel eyes.

“I mean, it’s just such a hike from campus, I was just—I mean it’s a fair question. You asked me, I ask you, you know?” you explained clumsily, hoping he at least understood a quarter of what you were trying to say. He looks down at the floor and chuckles with a shake of his head.

“I do live around here, if that’s what you’re asking.” He turns on his heel and starts towards the door. “See ‘ya Friday.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you try not to watch his ass, framed by those tight, worn jeans, as he exits the store. Unsure if the feeling in your chest is caused by anxiety, or how you secretly want to bang your professor, you clear your throat in an attempt to bring your mind back down to planet earth.

Despite your own constant correction and policing of your mind, you can’t help but drift away; reminiscing in the way Dream Logan devoured your pussy like no one else ever has. The way he roughly grabbed and pawed at you, pleasuring you in a desperate, animalistic way. Why your subconscious brewed up this intoxicating cocktail, is beyond you. You’ve never been with someone who’s fucked you the way Logan did in your dream, nor have you ever watched any porn that portrays a man acting that way towards someone. No matter what you tell yourself, it felt so inexplicably real. You’re starting to believe that the way Logan acted in your subconscious was strangely true to how he really does act in real life. But no matter, you have an essay to write, for a class you cannot figure out whether or not it's happening on Friday due to Logan’s own vagueness and potential misspeaking.

By the time you finally get home from work, you have maybe a page and a half written of your essay. In an attempt to be as prepared as possible, you decide to finish your work tonight so you can proofread and edit throughout the day tomorrow. But you’re struggling to keep your eyes open at your desk. It’s 1:30 in the morning, and you have a class at 9 am, but you don’t want to pull an all-nighter tomorrow just to work on this stupid essay. It’s getting increasingly more and more difficult to focus. Your bed, just a few feet behind you, beckons to you. It’s so, so tempting. Maybe resting my eyes for just a few minutes wouldn’t hurt, you think to yourself, wanting to give in to your exhaustion so desperately. You lay your head back against your chair and close your eyes. Oh, this feels so good.

So, so good.

Your eyes, half slit, peek open to see a broad chest; you're barely awake as an arm hooks under your legs and behind your back and cradles you before lifting you up against the strong, firm chest. You hum gently, turning into the man’s touch and getting comfortable. You feel yourself being lowered down onto your bed and tucked in under your comforter gently before the bed dips behind you as you’re joined in comfort by the man that tucked you in so tenderly. His arms wrap around you and he pulls your back flush against his chest, meeting the curve of his pelvis with the protrusion of your ass. He’s so warm and firm against your back, cocooning you in an embrace so gentle that it almost makes you want to wake up and fuck him.

You sigh in contentment, circling your ass ever so gently against his crotch, hoping to feel a firm indication of arousal through the boxers of the man behind you. A rough groan emanates from behind you as the pair of arms draped around your waist tighten slightly. His breath is hot against your neck, his scratchy beard tickling you.

His hands move up your stomach and to your chest where he palms your breasts languidly. The grip on your tits causes you to arch your back into his crotch, finally feeling the stiff outline of his cock against your ass. You smile and hum as he trails kisses up and down your neck, biting the flesh there gently.

“Not so tired now, huh, baby?” Logan’s voice rasps from behind you, causing you to gasp quietly. He’s here.

“You’re hard to resist,” you purr, an inexplicable truth bleeding through your words. You turn your torso, facing him, “I missed you.”

Your fingers raise to run over the patch of stubble on his chin that’s nestled between his mutton chops. His eyes look hungry, desperate. His hands, still fixed on your breasts, now lazily stroke them through your shirt.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, his mouth turned upward into a cocky grin. You nod in response. He places a gentle kiss to your lips, chastely.

“You know, I missed you too,” he whispers against your lips. He kisses you again.

“Yeah?” you ask flirtatiously, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip as he continues to kiss you repeatedly, gingerly making contact each time.

“Why don’t you show me how badly you missed me big guy?” you challenge against Logan's lips, your voice dripping in a seductive tone. He smiles against your lips before shoving you roughly onto your back, situating himself between your legs. One hand moves to your waist, the other pressed against the wall above your head to support his weight.

“I’ll do just that, princess,” his gravelly voice beckons to you from above, his breath fanning your face. A flirtatious smile spreads across your face, causing Logan to waste no time in capturing your lips with his. Unlike last time when you were pinned on his couch, this kiss is sensual and tender. His tongue dances with yours carefully, creating a specific pace with the move of his lips. You follow suit, matching his rhythm, allowing your hands to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. His hips grind down into yours, the two of you moaning into the kiss at the sudden friction. Logan’s hand moves down your waist and under your shirt, traveling up to your bare breast. His thumb circles your nipple softly as his hands knead your tender flesh. You arch your back into his touch, humming in contentment against the kiss.

You could be here for hours, Logan palming at your breasts, his stiff cock grinding against your pussy, the rhythmic swipe of his tongue between each expert kiss to your lips. You’re putty under him. Needing to feel more of him, you snake your hands down his back, and slip them under the hem of his wife beater. You hike the hem up his torso, incapable of moving it much further. Logan breaks the kiss and sits up before he pulls the tank the rest of the way off his body and over his head, revealing his bare torso to you. He’s unbelievably toned, chiseled like he was made by the gods. The veins in his chest and arms bulge with each breath he takes. You bite your bottom lip as you take him in, your fingers creeping up his abs, eventually sliding up his chest to stroke it tenderly. You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking at Logan seductively.

“Come here, baby,” Logan growls, snaking an arm around your waist before hoisting you up onto him. Your legs wrap around his waist as he spins the two of you around so his back is against the headboard and you’re straddling him. You can feel the full length of him at this angle as he’s aligned deliciously with your pussy, applying the most intoxicating pressure to your clit. Logan stares at you hungrily, pressing your chest into his, his hands firmly gripping your waist. You both moan as he grinds up into your pussy with his hand occasionally dipping down to squeeze your tight ass. You mewl at the feel of his hand there.

“Need more of you, princess,” he growls, taking no more than a second to grip the hem of your shirt and rip it up off of your head, you gasp with no time to react when he reaches down to the waistband of your shorts and tears them in half with ease. Both your shirt and ruined shorts tossed carelessly onto the floor.

“Logan!” you exclaim, trying your best to hide your amusement from him.

“Much better,” he drawls. He attacks your neck where he aggressively trails kisses and bites up and down the flesh, occasionally sucking and leaving purple marks in his wake. You throw your head back in ecstasy as you grind your naked cunt onto his cock, wetting the fabric of his boxers with your slick. His head dips down to your breasts, sucking purple bruises into your skin and leaving as many marks as he can before bringing a sensitive bud between his lips and sucking there as well. You moan throatily, gripping the back of his head and forcing his head further onto your breasts as he sucks, licks, and bites with animalistic need. You circle your free nipple with your fingers as he continues his onslaught, alternating with him when he switches attention between each breast. The feel of Logan’s clothed, firm cock against your clit as you grind against him is not enough. You need more of him.

“Logan,” you whine. “I need you. Inside me.” Your hand travels down to the waistband of his boxers, slipping them down as far as you can in desperation.

Logan responds by lifting you slightly off of him, allowing you to pull his boxers further down. You watch as his cock reveals itself, pressed firmly against his stomach. Your breath hitches at the sight. The girth shocks you, curious how it’d feel splitting you into two. You’re sure his length would take up entirety of your pussy once inside, most definitely pressing into your cervix no matter the position. A gasp leaves your lips as your hand wraps around his length, surprised at the difficulty in which your fingers have encasing the entirety of him. Logan hisses against your breast at the sudden touch, the grip on your waist growing tighter. He leaves one last lick on your breast before capturing your mouth in a feverish kiss. He attacks your mouth aggressively, his occasional bites almost making your lips bleed, his tongue thrusting into your mouth without a care. The onslaught of your mouth is so intoxicating, you almost don’t notice him lifting you up to position himself at your entrance. The tip of his cock prods your pussy and you whine into the kiss, driving your hips down as much as you can.

“We’re gonna take it nice and slow, baby,” Logan rasps against your lips encouragingly. Logan grips your jaw so you’ll look into his eyes, “You’re gonna take it all for me, won’t you?”

You nod eagerly as you squirm on top of him, so desperate for him to fill you up. He slides himself in about an inch further, causing your moan to turn to a wince at the delicious stretch he applies to your pussy.

“That’s it, princess,” Logan praises with a gravelly drawl that makes you melt. He groans as he spears into you a few more inches, your moans fanning his face.

“Good girl,” Logan encourages, making you fawn, “Just take a bit more for me, princess.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as he splits you open. He's bottomed out inside of you and already grazing your cervix. Your pussy’s stretched to its maximum around his girth. You can tell Logan is holding back, he’s tense beneath you, gripping you with such fervor that you’re sure he’ll leave marks.

“Logan,” you pant, “fuck me.”

He grunts as you raise your hips, allowing him the space to thrust up into you. The force of his thrust makes you groan in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“That’s a good girl, take it,” he coaxes, thrusting slowly into you, acclimating you to his length. Slowly, the winces become replaced with needy, lewd moans. Giving Logan permission to hammer into you harder and harder with the progression of groans and moans that escape your throat.

His cock is so deep inside of you that it applies the most delicious pressure to your cervix, pinching it each time he bottoms out. The feeling is so full, so stretched, each ridge he passes making you moan in ecstasy.

“So tight…so, so tight for me, baby,” Logan growls, his face so close to yours that his beard scratches your face with each of his thrusts. “M’gonna pound this fuckin’ pussy.”

The feel of his breath against your neck makes you whimper. His mouth latching onto you and biting down possessively making you yelp in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Logan hoists you up off of his pelvis, supporting the entirety of your weight in his arms. To keep your balance, you grip his shoulders tightly gasping when Logan begins to hammer into you with such strength and speed you almost sob.

“Yes,” he drawls, his voice raspy and breathing ragged, “good girl, you take it so well for me.”

Your moans become unrecognizable to you as a pleasure unlike any other you’ve experienced ravages all your senses; Logan’s mouth on your neck, his cock surely bruising your cervix, his finger suddenly drifting down to your clit to rub circles into the sensitive bud. The pitch in your voice rises with each flick of your sensitive nub. If you were with any other person, surely you’d feel self conscious about the way you’re screaming—almost sobbing as you’re being fucked up into. But Logan draws this kind of unabashed pleasure from you that makes you forget where you are in the world and allows you to just focus on how fucking good he feels inside of you. How he can sustain this kind of power, force, and strength as he fucks into you, is beyond you, especially while supporting your weight with only one arm. Your cries of pleasure grow further and further together as the familiar swirl of heat and pleasure rises in your stomach.

“Keep going, Logan, keep going…don’t stop,” you plead as you desperately seek your release.

“You gonna come for me?” Logan grunts into your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making a whimper escape your lips.

“Yes, Logan,” you mewl, now cheek to cheek with him, his beard almost vibrating against you as he sustains the speed of his thrusts.

“You take it so well, princess, can’t wait to feel you come around this cock,” he rasps into your ear, taking a lobe between his teeth and nibbling gently.

Your pleasure swirls inside of you, building and building into white hot pressure against your clit, causing your breaths to quicken and thighs to clench.

“Logan, I’m—“ you warn.

“Look into my eyes when I make you come, babygirl,” Logan commands, pulling your head back to look at you.

“M-my eyes?” you question, a wave of realization washing over your face of what he might see if that happens, “No…I can’t.”

A gasp jerks you awake. Your chest heaves, your pussy clenching around nothing. A pain grows in your neck and lower back, due to the position you feel asleep in your chair. This one felt so much more real than the last one, a slight lucidity to your thoughts and feelings. How the hell are you supposed to look him in the eye on Friday? Everything just felt so right.

Doing your best to shake your feelings from your head, you check the time on your phone to see it’s only 1:45 am. You huff in annoyance, looking back to the essay you neglected for a wet dream.

...

A/N: i promise this will probably be the last chapter that ends like this, i just desperately need an excuse to write logan smut without compromising the plot too much🤭 hope you enjoyed. to view this work on ao3 click here

[libraryspectre]

I wanted to talk about the Black Parade uniforms and it kind of turned into an entire essay. My ideas on the intention behind each costume and their cohesion as a group really evolved over the course of writing this, and I think it brought into focus a lot of things I knew subconsciously but hadn't articulated. I also noticed a lot of details I had never seen before. This has futher convinced me that 1) costume design and what you can say with it is really fascinating and 2) this is S-tier costume design of all time. And it's really long so I'm putting the rest under the cut.

What I would have loved is a Weezer-style picture of the five of them standing side by side, full bodies visible, but unfortunately that doesn't seem to exist. They're either covering each other up, or posed in such a way that details aren't visible or cut is hard to compare, so I'll have to provide a variety of visuals. This weirdly blurry poster is the closest thing I could find to a Weezer picture, so take them in as a group and refer back as necessary. I want to start by saying, obviously, that they look amazing both individually and as a set. "Dark marching band of death" is a really fun concept that is very well executed. But this isn't their first time doing a look as a group - think back to Revenge for a minute, when they really started to think about their costuming as a band. Gerard has talked about how then, they were kind of closing ranks against the vitriol coming their way. They needed to feel like a team, a gang, and dressed like one. I think some of this mentality has carried over into the Black Parade uniforms - they're less defensive, (there's no bulletproof vests), but in taking on new, nameless identities they have removed themselves as individuals from the equation, which is protective in its own way. What's left are stage personas, and the more you look the more you see that these were designed by someone who is very familiar with the history of the band and how each member presents themselves on stage. It's absolutely genius costume design, because when everyone is in uniform, the little differences are more noticable and tell you so much about the intention behind each variation.

Before we really start, I have to confess that I have no history in costuming or even a lot of familiarity with marching or military bands. I can only say I find costuming interesting, so I've read a little about it, and I went to high school in America and almost all my friends were in marching band. Someone who is more educated in these things could probably give more specific insights and have a better vocabulary to talk about it, but do not underestimate me. I am deeply obsessed with MCR and got A's in English, so let's find some meaning in symbolism! But please remember that with all art, there is no one interpretation. And remember going forward that these costumes were designed by Colleen Atwood, based on sketches she was given by Gerard, so there's no telling what elements were brought in by her and what elements Gerard had planned originally. If anyone has sources on that, PLEASE let me know because I'm very curious about the design process.

Also, I'll be using the uniforms as they appear in the WTTBP video as the standard, with acknowledgements toward variations seen in posters and the FLW video. It's worth noting that in many live performances they wore different, less unique jackets, and often forewent the pants for black jeans. This is almost certainly because they were easier to perform in and they didn't want to subject the originals to the sweat and rowdiness of regular shows. Ok, here we go! Here are some pics to refer back to throughout.

Starting with the band as a whole, I want to point out two things: first, marching bands evolved from military bands. The individual costumes vary in how "military" they look, but you can definitely see the influence when you look at them as a set. I imagine they leaned into that a bit because of the military elements on the record - the suggestion in Mama that the patient was a soldier, maybe even a war criminal. We also know they've done military aesthetics before, in The Ghost of You music video, and that the band was formed in response to 9/11. Suffice to say, the military is on the mind, and this is a continuation of that.

They also look a bit like skeletons. Obviously they would occasionally do the face paint, but the uniforms themselves suggest a ribcage with the horizontal silver lines, and at some angles the stripes on the pants also really contribute to the image. I know most people have already realized this, but I wanted to point it out explicitly because it took me an embarassingly long time to see it.

Alright, I'm gonna talk about them individually now, going from my personal least to most favorite. Taste aside, they're all individually really interesting.

5. Bob

(I can't find another good Bob picture, just scroll up to the blurry one)

It's not just because I don't like Bob, I genuinely like this one much less than all the others. It might be because it's less tailored - the others look much sharper, he looks almost rumpled in comparison. The lose fit might be because as a drummer, he needed better range of movement, but I'm not a drummer so I don't know. The cut of his jacket looks kind of naval to me, which is interesting. His stripes are also very minimal compared to the others. Overall, his looks the least like it's part of a set. I don't necessarily think they meant to set him apart, but maybe they did, considering he's the only non-original member (I'm counting Frank as an original member) and the only one not from New Jersey (which, I only point out because they ALWAYS point that out to people who mention they're a Jersey band. We're from Jersey, Bob is from Chicago.) Maybe it was a subconscious thing, or maybe as the drummer his costume was designed to make the most of what would be visible sitting and partially obscured by the drum kit. It does have a very dramatic collar. That's probably also part of the reason they gave him a more distinctive haircut for this - I'm not gonna talk about hair much, but it's worth mentioning. Overall, I don't have a ton to say about Bob because I don't think of him much (sorry, but not really).

4. Frank

Frank's is really interesting. His is the least traditional-looking, which is why it's here in the ranking, but I like it and I think there's a good reason for that. Those stripes on the sleeve are a really strong look, and the material of the silver has kind of a tarnished/dappled look you can see better in other photos. I've seen people say it's a subtle camo pattern, but I'm honestly not sure - I think he's supposed to look a little less new and shiny. The blockiness of it widens him and gives him a lot of presence that might be lost if he was dressed more like the others, and it compliments his performance style well. That's particularly important in the WTTBP video - on that float, he simply doesn't have room to be as wild and energetic as his standard performance was at the time, so this uniform helps him stand out and draw attention to what thrashing he is able to do. As far as bucking tradition, he also is the only one without shoulder tabs (those little loops). There's something funny about that - those tabs are meant to hold loops and eupalletes that would signify rank, placement, or achievement, which apparently you could not give to Frank if you tried. I think this lack of traditionality is reflective of Frank's more punk sensibilities, having come up in the Jersey scene. His playing style evolved over time as he and Ray influenced each other, but at the start he was very much their punk guitarist and coming up in that scene continued to influence how he conducted himself as a musician. I think this uniform marks him as a non-conformist even within the group.

He also has that patch with a red cross on the sleeve, the only bit of color on any of them. I don't know what to make of that, maybe it's just for the Catholic vibes.

Honestly, Frank's feels the most like what people would expect from an "emo" marching band uniform. Especially considering the poster, where he's found a hole to stick his thumb through. I don't think he's wearing it in the video, but in that poster he has this belt with some kind of weapon?? Maybe?? We get it, he's a dangerous little man.

3. Mikey

Mikey's uniform is by far the most military - it's not just the medal, it's also the cut of the jacket. And he's the only one with a fun little belt, which helps keep the silhouette look nice and tailored even though the jacket flares a little at the waist. We all know the medal is a reference to his death in The Ghost of You video (there's no way they didn't know we would make that connection) and it wouldn't surprise me if the rest of his uniform looks more military because it was built around that idea. But also consider Mikey's stage presence at the time - due to his discomfort on stage, he used to be really stoic, standing in the back, getting the job done with little showmanship. I think that presentation lends itself well to a classic military figure. Mikey is also pretty thin, and the long jacket and it's strong, solid construction keeps him from looking too Victorian-orphan waifish (especially with how pale they all are), and more like a dead soldier boy.

Additionally, Mikey's costume leaning so hard into the military side helps them look more military as a group. It keeps the association in your mind when you look at the others. Also, he's wearing a little necklace here, which I've never noticed before, is he wearing that in the videos?? I think it's an anchor, which is fun considering he died on a beach.

2. Gerard

Yes, Gerard's is #2 in my ranking. I'm sorry, I might have a slight bias knocking it down from #1. But maybe not, let me defend myself when I get there. Anyway, Gerard's is the most classically marching band, which makes sense considering he's the frontperson. In fact, he has one of those braided loops on his shoulder we talked about earlier, demonstrating.....something, it seems to vary a lot, but we're probably meant to think leadership. He's not wearing it the WTTBP video, but it's there in Famous Last Words. He also has that fancy little star thing on the shoulder, which definitely seems to suggest rank. Otherwise, his uniform is very basic. He's the template that the others' uniforms are variations of. And it's a great look! He's also got nice big buttons compared to the others, three whole rows of them, which is a nice touch to make it look a liiiiittle more feminine. Because, of course, the back of the jacket is corseted, in a genious stroke of gender that puts the entire outfit in a new context. I think this is a good example of how Gerard likes to play with androgony by balancing masc and femme elements. The cut of his jacket makes his shoulders look wide and his waist narrow, but not so narrow it looks terribly feminine (just a little, taken on its own). A lot of this is achieved by the piping - notice how on Bob, Mikey, and Frank, the top row of piping (I might be using that word wrong but let's go with it. I'm talking about the silver stuff across the chest) is pretty much the same length as the bottom row? On Gerard, they start out wide way up on his shoulders and get progressively narrower at the waist. It's still a mostly masculine silhouette, but then you have the counter balance of the big buttons and his little white pixie cut, both of which lean just a little further toward femme than masc. It's an androgynous look that leans toward masc as a whole, until he turns around and, boom, corseted back. Showstopping. He also had those black leather gloves that give some nice formality, and maybe a touch of impersonality. They make it so that when he's in full uniform, the only skin you can see is that of his face. They're like an edgier version of the usual plain white marching band gloves.

1. Ray

Going purely by aesthetics, Ray's is my favorite. It's the fancy one, most obviously distinct by the flourishes around the buttons on his jacket. He Mikey are the only ones with pure silver shoulder loops, and Ray has more silver piping on his jacket than the others. In some pictures he's wearing this really ornate knotted tassle thing? You can see it in one of the group pictures above. He isn't wearing it in any of the videos, which makes sense as it could be really annoying while playing. The cut of his jacket at the bottom also looks formal to me, but I'm not sure why. Overall, the ornanamentation could be a reflection of his playing style - the same caveat here applies to Frank, in that they influenced each other through their parnership as guitarists, (and Ray has a lot of influences from different genres), but at the start he was their metal guitarist, and the guitars in metal are often complicated and showy. And he's their soloist, they need to show him off a little.

Additionally, the construction here is giving him an absolutely wild silohette. Like Gerard, the piping on his jacket gets progressively narrower to suggest a smaller waist, but without the really long stripes at the top to make the shoulders look broader. Those vertical lines across the front add to the effect because they're curved inward - which is interesting, because everyone else's uniforms are composed of entirely straight lines and sharp angles. And his jacket is cut REALLY high on the side. I can't tell if Ray's pants are more high-waisted than the others, or if it just looks that way because of the cut of the jacket. You see the stripe of the pants go all the way up his hip, and since he's already tall with long legs, it really accentuates that. It's hard to tell, but I think his pants are even a little more form-fitting than the others. The other day I saw people commenting on a gif of Ray in the WTTBP video about how they never noticed how long his legs are - this is why!

We talk about how part of what makes Ray such a compelling performer is how he moves, and I think this costume was designed to compliment fluid motion. The tailoring and curves of the piping avoid making him look too rigid or blocky, as a marching band uniform could easily do, and the high cut of the jacket lets the line of his legs continue uninterrupted. Honestly, this is a favorite look for Raygirls (gender neutral) for a reason - I think they knew exactly what they were doing putting him in a pretty, well-tailored uniform that accentuates his movement. (Caveat here that I'm a Raygirl (gn) so I'm definitely biased, and they all look great in their uniforms, but I do think Ray's is.....uniquely flattering, and I don't think it was an accident).

Conclusions

So now that we've talked about all of them, I think we have some interesting contrasts to make. Gerard and Mikey both have very classic looks, but Gerard's is more marching band and Mikey's is more military. Mikey and Bob both have very military looks, but Mikey's has a much more solid construction. Gerard and Ray are both on the marching band side of the spectrum, but Gerard's is classic while Ray's is ornate. My favorite contrast is between the guitarists - Frank's is blocky and rigid and tarnished, Ray's is curved and fluid and shiny.

The interplay between similarity and contrast is what makes this so compelling as a group costume - just by looking you can tell who's the leader, who's the tragic figure, who's the outcast, who's the rebel, who's being spotlit.

In closing, thank you Colleen Atwood and Gerard Way for designing these and the rest of the band for wearing them, I will never get tired of looking at them.

[regulus-blacks-lover]

Hi it's me again

72 with regulus💚

I have a story idea, if you don't like it, you don't have to answer

Sooo you are kinda innocent, like you had sex before but unspecial without feelings. And regulus founds out you are reading smut books and want to give you the special spice experience you deserve. Maybe you are reading and he starts eating you out

Lot of love to you💓

Sorry it's taken me literal ages to write this! I hope u like it!

1,329 words

#72: “there is no way anyone is that innocent”

"What's up, little dove?" Regulus asked, plopping down onto the common room couch next to you.

You glanced up from your History of Magic textbook just long enough to shoot him an annoyed look. "I've got so much to do Reg. Gotta read this whole section of the book and write two essays by tomorrow."

He leaned his head on your shoulder to look at the chapter you'd already turned back to. "Oh the magical transparency uprisings of 1754," he said. You bit back your annoyance. Regulus was so good at history, thanks to the years of private tutoring his parents had supplied him for his entire childhood.

"I've been reading this page for twenty minutes," you groaned. "It's not sinking in. I'm doomed!"

Your best friend pulled your legs into his lap. "I'll help you." he said, positioning the textbook in your lap so you could both see it. You watched Regulus skim the page before he began summarizing the entire chapter like he'd been preparing a presentation on it. As he spoke, he traced lazy lines up your calves.

You relaxed into his touch and slowly began to understand what the dry words in your textbook had been trying to say.

It was always like this, Regulus coming to your rescue. Your best friend. Never anything more than kind words and casual, platonic contact. Sometimes you thought you caught him looking at you with something beyond just friendship in his gaze, but you always told yourself you were making it up.

You made it through another finals week, thanks to Regulus. The weather outside began warming as spring approached. You'd planned to stay at the school for the short spring break with a group of friends, but several of them had gotten into relationships during the term and had abandoned those plans in favor of spending the spring outside in their lovers arms. You couldn't fault them, but you also couldn't help the bitter jealousy that burned in your chest when you thought of how lonely you were.

You'd had a few relationships, of course, each as unfulfilling and short lived as the last. You'd never felt a spark with any of your partners, never cared for them the way you wanted to. And in return, you hadn't been properly cared for.

With the castle nearly empty, you ventured into the library, ending up in the small romance section. You rifled through a few books before finding one that was properly steamy. You tucked it under your arm and made your way back to the common room.

You find a decently private corner and begin reading, crossing your legs in search of friction as you reach the first sex scene in the book.

"He was consuming her like fire, his tongue stroking in long, slow licks, curling–"

"Hello little dove," a voice says, sitting down next to you. You start, instinctively angling your book away from view. You'd been so focused on the book that you hadn't even heard Regulus come in. Glancing around, you noticed that it was just the two of you in the room. "Please tell me you aren't studying during the break? That's so sad," he said, offering you a mock-pout.

"I'm not studying." You replied, trying to move the book further out of view.

Regulus cocked an eyebrow. He knew you too well, damn him. Before you could react, he snatched the book from your grasp, flipping it back open. You could only watch as his eyes scanned the pages, taking in the smut you'd been reading.

"I knew it. I knew there was absolutely no way anyone could be that innocent." He said, turning to smirk at you.

"What?" You asked, too embarrassed to think of anything else.

Regulus placed a hand on your knee, eyes momentarily lingering on your still crossed legs before he raised his gaze to yours again. "I thought maybe you were just so innocent, the way I touched you never felt like anything beyond just friendly touches." He said quietly. "I never let it go beyond that. I always wanted... I always wanted to make you feel good, I just thought you weren't... into that kind of thing."

Your gaze darted to his hand on your knee. As you watched, he slid his hand upward, just high enough that his thumb vanished below the hem of your skirt. Out of sight, he traced a gentle line against your thigh.

He leaned into you. "Do you want me to touch you?" He purred into your ear. His warm breath fanned across your neck.

Your voice was breathy when you replied, "Yes."

He pressed a kiss against your shoulder and asked, "Do you want me to touch you in all of those filthy ways you read about?"

You felt like you couldn't breathe. "Please." You said, all bust gasping the word out.

"Good." He said, but then he pulled his warm hand out from where it had been making its way underneath your skirt.

"Regulus, what-" you began, but he cut you off by grabbing your hips to pull you to the edge of the small couch you'd been perched on.

He knelt before you, leaning forward to kiss you. His hands were back on you, one on each thigh, trailing impossibly upward until your skirt was pushed all the way up around your waist and one of his thumbs began drawing torturously slow circles over your underwear.

You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. For all the times you'd wondered what it would be like to kiss him, the real thing was so much better than you'd even imagined.

You began rocking your hips ever so slightly upwards, trying to create more pressure as he touched you so gently. You felt Regulus smile into the kiss before he pulled away.

"Lean back for me, my dove." He said, gently pushing your shoulders back so you were half lying against the back of the couch.

You watched him sink down in front of you, his hands pulling your legs apart. He hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and you lifted your hips to allow him room to shimmy the fabric down your legs. Your face flushed slightly, suddenly feeling bare and vulnerable. Regulus began to kiss his way up your legs, starting at your knees and making his way upward to your core, where his thumb was already rubbing slow circles against your clit, spreading your wetness around.

You inhaled sharply as he sucked the tender flesh of your inner thigh into his mouth, sure to leave a mark behind. His gaze flicked up to you, full of desire. "Do you want me to keep going?" He asked, waiting for you to pant out a 'yes' before continuing. He replaced his thumb with his mouth and you swore you'd never felt anything so good.

A small whimper left your mouth as he pushed a finger into your entrance, keeping his mouth locked on your clit, sucking it harshly before releasing it to lick it gently over and over.

He began to increase his pace, flicking his tongue over your core faster and faster until you were shaking under his touch. Meanwhile, he added a second finger to your pussy, curling them up into your center, hitting that sweet spot and making you cry out again.

Your hands were tangled in his hair and you bucked your hips up into his mouth, meeting his every thrust with one of your own.

"Regulus," you gasped, "Regulus, 'm gonna come."

He was unrelenting, continuing to lick and kiss and suck at you until your orgasm washed over you, more powerful than any pleasure you'd ever felt before.

When at last Regulus pulled away, you were a mess before him. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to taste you." He whispered, looking up at you from his position between your thighs.

[concerningwolves]

god I'm reading Devon Price's latest substack essay on burnout, and it's.. it's confirming and crystallising something that I've suspected for a long time, actually.

See, all throughout school, I would have days – roughly every month or so, sometimes two months – where I became Unwell. The symptoms never really fit anything, but I'd be exhausted, irritable, headachey, sometimes feeling kind of feverish. Most importantly, i'd just Know that I couldn't cope with school that day. I can remember these starting in middle school and getting more frequent and pressing into high school. When I did take the day off, I'd watch TV or films and sleep a lot, and then by the evening – if it wasn't a weekend night – I'd be in this weird place of feeling rested but also crushingly anxious with the knowledge that i'd just be back at school tomorrow. Holidays weren't truly restful either, except for maybe the middle two weeks of the six-week summer break. The two week Christmas and Easter breaks? I'd start to feel a bit better towards the end of the first week, then the dread would build up again throughout the second week. By my GCSEs, I couldn't keep up my academic drive, so I picked the subjects I most wanted to do well in (English, German, Biology, and History + maths because I needed to pass it so I could be done with it), focused my revision on those, and coasted by with perfunctory revision on the other seven subjects. It's honestly shocking to me that I got a full 12 GCSEs. People tell me that my results were good, and I know that logically they're right, but it took me a long time to be proud of them because I always knew that I hadn't really tried. It took me even longer to accept that if I had given every subject my all, it probably would have broken me.

As it was, I made it into my first term of college before I hit breaking point. Three A Levels (English lang & lit, history, psychology), dreams of a career in psychology or psychiatry, writing in all my spare time. I'd been very mentally unwell all through high school, but I'd always imagined that college would be my escape. First I was going to study philosophy, history, and English literature – but then that college had to drop the philosophy course. My next chosen college was an incredibly competitive college that held students to very high standards. I had the grades to get in, and I was dithering between a selection from English literature, history, classical studies, sociology, philosophy, or psychology. But I never made it in, because I missed the induction day. Students who missed the induction day automatically forfeited their placement. In hindsight, that was the first warning, but instead I felt wretched for a few days, then decided, fuck it, I was going to my final last choice college instead.

And in less than six months, I had an absolute breakdown. Anyone who was following me circa 2018 may remember the fallout. Skill regression. Low mood. Weeks spent just watching Supernatural or sleeping. Panic attacks. I never truly got my feet back under me. I dropped down to one a level and abandoned all thoughts of university, and scraped by college until I could just get out of there.

And reading this article, looking back at the trajectory of my life since 2018, it's... Eye-opening, to say the least. I don't know if I'm recovered or still recovering, or adjusting to my new baseline, nearly seven years later. Sometimes I wonder if an autism diagnosis earlier might have helped – might have given me the language and the tools to understand what was happening to me on all of those Unwell Days. So I grieve for that potential. I don't hate my life now, it's just.... I have to wonder, you know? What might have been. Could I have caught the burnout sooner? Headed it off? I don't know. I can't know. all I've got is where I'm at now, which is certainly something to be proud of, because I made it, even if I'm not anywhere near what's "normal" or "expected" of a 23 year old. and I have my whole life ahead of me yet. 23 years is nothing, in the grand scheme of things. Remembering that is always a balm.

But still I wonder. I grieve. It's hard not to.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter One: The Day It Rained Fire

Gates Of Hell Masterlist

Word Count: 4576

Warnings: swearing, mutual bullying (?), mentions of death, blood, violence, gore

[A/N: my sweet baby angel of a project (she calls it and it's gonna be her most gore-driven, terrifying attempt yet), i've been working on this for a little while now and I'm so excited to finally share it with you!! a brand new story, no script to follow, i'm scared.]

The Day It Rained Fire

Steve couldn’t believe it.

One minute he was minding his business, trying to catch up with his rapidly plummeting grades in time for the finals, and the next he was promised detention after ‘cheating’ in class.

The shit-eating grin Tommy gave him was enough to make Steve’s fists curl. He wouldn’t do anything; Steve never threw the first punch.

The boy had caught his attention with a balled up piece of paper. He was going to try and ignore him first, focus on the class. But Tommy started to hiss at him, and Steve knew if he delayed it any longer Tommy would be making a scene.

He made a comment that Steve didn’t hear, making him lean closer. The clock was ticking loudly, students scribbling down their pop quiz answers in silence, their teacher’s head stuffed into a book. His action cost him when Tommy’s hand shot straight up, alerting the eyes of their superior.

‘Harrington’s tryna copy my answers’ was what he had said. And Mr Holloway wasn’t a man you could reason with. He was given a one-way ticket to detention, much to the amusement of a boy he mistook for a friend.

So here he was, cursing the last bell and trudging his way back to Mr Holloway’s classroom, praying it would be over in time for Steve to get Dustin to the arcade. He didn’t know why he became the boy’s personal chauffeur yet part of him enjoyed it. But Jesus, if he was late he’d never hear the end of it.

Pushing open the door, he immediately gains his teacher’s attention, the man nodding to all the empty chairs in front of him. All but one.

“Oh, great.” You roll your eyes, returning your gaze back to your notebook as he sarcastically grins.

“Shoot me now.” Steve grumbles as he slips into his seat, just a desk away from you.

“Quiet, please.” Your warden ordered, his glasses propped on the edge of his nose. “You’ll both be here for an hour. I expect you to complete any outstanding work in this time. If you do not have any, I will task you with some. No talking, no leaving. Anyone not respecting my terms will-”

“Have an extra ten minutes added to our time for every violation, yeah, yeah, I know.” You interrupt, waving your pen in the air. “Can I start this essay now so I can get home before dinner?”

“Always a pleasure, Miss Hopper.” He sighs, returning to his desk and flipping through papers.

You catch Steve staring at you inquisitively, scrunching up your face. “Stop staring.”

He simply raises his hands, reaching into his bag and setting up his desk. As soon as the lid from his pen was popped, he started scribbling down notes from his History guide book.

“Huh.” You sound after a while and he raises his head, frowning.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You say, striking your paper with a period to mark the end of your sentence. “Just didn’t know you could write.”

Biting his tongue, he tries to ignore your irritating nature, focus back on his lined paper.

Neither of you were exactly sure when it had started. The disgusted glances, annoyed groans, petty feuds. You had both been friends in middle school, kind of. In a way, you simply tolerated eachother, friendly smiles when you passed eachother in town, or laughing at eachother’s jokes when you were grouped with mutual friends. It had all been fine.

Then something changed in high school. You both did. And it had brought an unnecessary rivalry between you both, making it near impossible to sit quietly in a room together. You’d roll your eyes anytime he opened his mouth, he’d yawn whenever you were presenting in class. Little by little it got worse, until you were both trying to publicly humiliate eachother. The last time had earned you both a threat for expulsion, and you had quickly decided to step away from one another. From irritation, to sabotage, to avoidance, no one in the school has ever mistook you for friends.

And now, this was the first time in a long time you had ever shared the same space alone. And you were both hating every second.

“Hm.” Steve sounded after a while and you set down your pencil, glancing his direction. “Sorry. Just realised I should’ve knocked.”

“What?” You scrunch your face in confusion and he smirks.

“I mean, you’re in here so much, you must live here, right?”

Your face drops into utter annoyance, ready to reply when Mr Holloway clears his throat.

“What about ‘no talking’ do you not understand?” He asks, voice at a normal volume. He sounded tired, if anything.

“I want a new classroom.” You announce, and he raises his brows.

“We don’t have any other staff to oversee your detention.”

“Then I want my hour to start after his.” You suggest and Mr Holloway removes his glasses, rubbing either side of his nose bridge. The silver band he wore on his left hand glinted against the light.

“Miss-”

“Or, you know what,” You continue, smiling at Steve. “I’m feeling so charitable today, how about I take his hour and add it onto mine.”

“That’s-” Mr Holloway starts, but Steve scoffs.

“Jesus, you are such a child.” He says, folding his arms. “Can’t even spend an hour in silence.”

“Mr Harr-”

“It’s hard to even think in here with all this hairspray I’m suddenly breathing in.” You glare and Steve grits his teeth.

“Yeah? How about you-”

A startling crash echoes through the hallway, silencing the classroom immediately. Standing from his chair, Mr Holloway sends a wide eyed look to his students. He clears his throat and slips the glasses back onto his nose.

“Wait here, please. I’ll be back as soon as I find out what’s going on.” He announces, collecting his keys and leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Barely a second passes before you’re lunging at the door, trying the doorknob.

“Asshole.” You curse, slumping your shoulders and kicking the door. “Of course he locks us in.”

“How fun.” Steve smirks and you glare at him. “Maybe if you weren’t getting in trouble all the time, you wouldn’t be stuck in here with me.”

“Bite me, Harrington.” You scoff, pushing away from the door.

He wasn’t wrong, though. You were getting in trouble so persistently lately that you were getting closer to ruining your chances for college. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to graduate, you’ll be damned if you never escape this hell hole of a town, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were acting out. No one cared to ask why.

“I mean, if anyone’s gonna know the rules, it’ll be the Chief’s daughter, right?” He retorts and you stop, biting your tongue. “Ooh. I forgot. Daddy issues?”

“Oh my god. Do you ever shut the fuck up?” You groan, spinning around to face him.

Steve doesn’t reply.

“Oh, right. Sorry I forget your hair plugs your ears.” You lean forward, cupping your hands around your mouth like a megaphone. “Do. You. Ever-”

“Jesus, can you just be nice for one in your miserable-”

A loud blood-curdling scream rips into your argument, freezing you both in place.

“What the hell was that?” Steve whispers out, the silence that ensued suddenly all too frightening.

“Probably… probably just some kids, uh, messing around.” You reply, nodding mostly to yourself. Then, as your nerves took over, you started to laugh.

“Why are you laughing right now?” Steve frowns, startled by your reaction.

“The look on your face, I don’t know, it was funny.” You chuckle, feeling your heart beat slowly return to normal. “It’s not the first time someone’s had a screaming fit during detention.”

“Fucking hell.” He breathes, leaning back in his seat. “I see why no one hangs around this place after the last bell.”

“Yep. All that’s left are the stoners, and degenerates.” You quip, leaning against the front desk. “Now, I know you’re not a stoner…”

“Shut it.” Steve clicks his jaw, deciding to just stare out of the window. It had gotten darker outside. Weird, considering you were only just in April. The sun never set this early.

Minutes ticked by, rendering you restless. You were fiddling with your jumper, pulling at loose threads, procrastinating the half-finished essay taunting your eyes. And, after a while, you decided enough was enough.

“Okay, this is ridiculous.” You say, circling the desk and rooting through drawers.

“Did no one teach you patience as a child?” Steve comments, peeling his eyes away from the window to feed his curiosity.

“Did no one tell you that hair can exist without vats of gel?” You retort, pulling open a drawer that jingled with the harsh motion. “Bingo.”

“What?” Steve straightens up, peering over the desk to see you stand, keys dangling from your fingers.

“He always keeps a spare.” You grin, bounding over to the classroom door. This might be the second time you’ve escaped educational imprisonment, and it sure wasn’t going to be the last.

“Really?” Steve holds out his arm, rocking back in his chair. “He’ll be back soon.”

“So?” You shrug, “He always does this. He goes out to investigate something and doesn’t return until the hour’s over.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. The asshole’s probably sat down right now in the break room with some coffee,” You say, turning the key and slowly turning the door knob. “Thinking that those kids he left in detention are suckers-”

You hadn’t opened it merely an inch before another scream bounces off the walls, more distant than the last.

Steve springs up from his seat this time, knocking over his chair. You jump at his sudden burst, widening your eyes.

“Jesus, calm down.” You look him up and down. “Don’t go ruining that hair, it’s the moneymaker.”

“Where are you going?” He asks as you pocket the keys and take a step forward.

“Gonna go see who’s screaming and give them a peace of my mind.” You say, already outside the classroom.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He warns and you raise a brow.

“Look, you can stay here if you’re scared he’s gonna catch you, but I’m not listening to any more screams for the rest of the hour, okay? It’s probably just Phil and his stoner gang thinking that the school’s empty.”

Steve didn’t look convinced and you laugh. “Oh, stop. Don’t go pretending like you care about me when we both know you’re just worried you’re gonna have to take the blame for my disappearance.”

He almost winces. Take the blame for my disappearance.

Fuck, it shouldn’t have made his heart shatter the way it did. Suddenly he’s back in that bathroom, chipped pieces of a future crashing and burning, a slurred voice stabbing him where it hurt. You’re pretending like everything’s okay. Like we didn’t kill Barb.

You frown at how ill he suddenly looked. Something you’ve pretended not to notice ever since school came back from Christmas break. His jumpy nature anytime a locker slammed shut, the nervous excuses when someone suggests he should throw a pool party. You didn’t care, you shouldn’t. But you still noticed.

“Okay, how about this?” You sigh, shuffling back into the classroom and closing the door with a soft click, leaning against it. “I’ll just see if I can spot Holloway. If I haven’t in the first two minutes, I’ll come straight back and we can pretend like I never left when he eventually returns. Good?”

“Yeah.” Steve says quietly, still frowning as he leans against the front desk, palms flat against the surface either side of him.

“Oh-kay.” You turn back around, ignoring that persistent feeling that told you to stay with him. Why? He hadn’t ever done anything for you.

Slipping out of the door, you start wandering down the halls, peering into empty classrooms. You and Steve seemed to be the only students left, excluding whoever was winding up your teacher by screaming across the school.

You weren’t planning on detention today. The first five times were boring enough. But that changed this morning, before you refused to be in the cabin for one more second and stormed out into the surrounding nature, a bad morning to start off a bad day. Detention ensured you had an excuse to stay away longer.

You were sure two minutes passed by as you glance up at a convenient clock, slumping your shoulders. You did make a promise. And Mr Holloway was nowhere to be seen.

Turning on your heel, you were about to walk back the way you came when you thought you could hear something, a quiet humming sound. Maybe you were right and Holloway was making his coffee right now.

In the mood for a little defiance, you head towards the noise. Anything to keep you from going home.

You round a corner, scanning the space and coming to an abrupt halt. Your stomach drops.

Blood marks the floors, red handprints smeared across the wall. It was a crimson path that dragged down the hallways, bending around the corner out of your sight. Any expectations you had of what this hallway would be like were trapped in shock, your skin feeling like fire as your nerves scream at you to leave.

So you turn around, heart loud enough to beat your eardrums.

But what if someone was hurt?

Shit, you thought, looking back, no. No, it’s not my problem.

And then you started thinking that if you left whoever it was now, you could be the reason they died.

Reluctantly, you walk down the hall, dodging the spill. Maybe this wasn’t blood. Maybe it was a prank, or a simple accidental spill of red juice.

The smell didn’t make it seem less so as you grip your sweater sleeves in your hands, that humming sound getting louder by the second.

And, when you finally turn that corner, you feel the breath being dragged from your lungs.

A girl was led on the floor, eyes staring straight at you, arms splayed either side of her. Blood was splattered all over her face, staining her clothes.

And something was eating her chest, ripping into her body.

Tears flooded your eyes, your hand covering the whimpers threatening your throat, feet slowly backing away. There was an emergency exit behind you, just further down the hall. You could make it.

Her dead eyes were looking straight through you, and you couldn’t do anything for her – all that blood. You couldn’t -There was so much blood.

Your eyes stay glued to the monster, cautious steps taking you backwards, until you could slip back around the corner. You needed to get out of here fast.

Steve, you suddenly think, eyes widening. You needed to get Steve. No matter how much you despised him, no one deserved to end up like that girl. Oh my god. That poor girl. So much blood.

Taking a deep breath, something grabbed your shoulder and you almost scream. Covering your mouth with your hands, you glance at whatever creature has suddenly got you in its grasp and prepare for-

A silver ring shone back at you and you sigh in relief. It was Mr Holloway.

“Thank god.” You whisper shakily, turning around. You can just see your startled reflection in his glasses. “There’s a girl back there and this- this thing it’s… it’s eating her.”

You look up to him with watering eyes, choking on your own words, and frown. Something was wrong.

His hair was matted to his head, a crack in the corner of his glasses. There was something black spilled over his chin, dripping onto his shirt.

“Are you okay?” You ask, instinctively taking a step back.

He doesn’t respond.

“Mr Holloway?”

His wild eyes suddenly darted upwards, staring at you.

Then, he pounces.

He’s snarling as he claws at your jumper, pulling you down to the ground with him. In haste you try and push him off of you, but this man was a lot bigger than you, wrapping his hands around your throat and smashing your head into the cold ground.

Struggling against his weight, he rears his head closer to you.

“Stop!” You try, his tightening grip on your neck releasing the word as a strained whisper.

Before the restraint became too unbearable, you had curled your fingers around the keys in your pocket and plunged the metal into the skin of his hand.

He shrieks in pain, scurrying back and finally releasing you. Your breaths are quick and shallow, mustering up any oxygen to pull yourself away from him.

You manage to stumble onto foot, turning around to see him glaring at you, a dripping line of black oozing from the wound you made. He looked scared for a second, cradling his hand. Remnants of him were fading in and out. Like he was possessed.

And then he growled. Something alien, animalistic.

Everything in the world felt distant when he opens his mouth, your breath hitching in your throat. Pieces fell away from it, four sections opening like a flower and exhibiting his rows of tiny sharp teeth. It wasn’t natural. None of it was natural.

Your body reacted before your brain, back hitting the wall as he stalked towards you. He was backing you into a corner, leaving you little chance of survival. You were going to die. He was going to kill you- your teacher was going to kill you.

Something red catches the corner of your eye and you glance over. With little time left, you throw yourself towards it and tug it from the wall.

You swing the fire extinguisher just in time for it to collide with the side of his head as he lunges at you, a sickening crunch of impact driving you backward into a stumble.

The lights above you are flickering out of control as you find your teacher hunched against the wall, still. You had driven him down, hopefully knocking him unconscious. The uncoordinated lights weren’t helping your assessment, hands still gripping the metal canister in fear.

Finally, a flash of luminescence brightens the scene long enough for you see what you had done, a sob escaping your lips. His arms were limp at his sides, neck rolled to the side. And his head was caved in, blood dripping from his mouth.

You killed him.

A throbbing ache was building in your head, the back of your skull feeling all too hot. Removing a hand from the extinguisher, you delicately pat the surface and wince, feeling the damp collected on your scalp and hair. You were bleeding.

And, just for a second, you were distracted.

A sharp, searing pain strikes your ankle, causing your one-handed grip on your only weapon to falter and it crashes onto the ground with you, slipping from your fingertips. You watch as it rolls away when the thing tugs violently on your leg, pulling you backwards as you scream into the empty hallway.

The floor was sticky, blood covering your clothes and any bare skin. You were sure it was smeared across your cheek as you cry out for help, fingers slipping against the ground as you tried to find some friction.

You knew it was the creature you had seen before, the cause of the blood you were currently being dragged through. You were going to end up like that girl, bloods mixing into the paste of victims ripped apart. Dead, alone. Prey.

Your hands slip against a door frame before it all stopped too suddenly. You weren’t outrunning it, you had to accept that. You curled up, tears streaming down your face as you prepared for the inevitable. It was going to split you apart, have you feel everything. An endless amount of pain for a terrifying ending.

But you didn’t want it to end.

No matter how many times you argued with him, you didn’t want your father to lose another child.

When it made the first brush of contact against your back, you flipped onto your back and drove your leg hard against it, catching sight of the dark bloody keys glinting in the flashing bulbs just outside of the room. You must have accidentally dragged them with you. And now they were your only hope.

With a yell, you slide the metal between your fingers and curl into a fist, spinning around and moving quickly to stab it before it could kill you.

“Woah, woah, woah! Woah, it’s me!”

You barely manage to catch yourself, stumbling back with wide eyes. You were blinking against the blinding pattern of artificial lights, arm still raised.

“It’s me! Steve!”

It all finally came back into focus and you lower your fist, a shaky breath of relief, as you observe the boy in front of you. His hair was a little wild, chest rising heavily as he clutched your lost fire extinguisher in his hands, black blood marking the bottom and rising along the metal in splatters, matching his face.

At his feet lay the creature that attacked you, its mushy face enough to settle that it wasn’t getting back up.

“Shit.” You finally drop the keys, lowering to rest your hands on your knees and catch your breath.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, but as he looked at you, he already knew the answer.

When you left the classroom, Steve had felt uneasy about the whole ordeal.

From saving Jonathan from the Demogorgon to fighting those demodogs for the kids, he had been on edge for what seemed every day of his life. Any bump in the night, any twig snapping in the forest, it all rushed back to his head in a throbbing blur of reasons he’d never be able to sleep again.

So, when the second scream had rung out and you had gone after it, Steve could only fear the worse.

He had convinced himself it was nothing. That he was just being paranoid.

Then the overhead lights started to flicker, flashes of colourful bulbs and Nancy’s panicked yells replaying in the horror of his mind. Something was wrong. He knew he should always trust his instinct.

And then, one last scream. Your scream.

He dumped everything where it was, taking off out of the classroom in a rush that almost had him barrelling through the wooden door. He didn’t care if you hated him, if he hated you. No one deserved to die. And he couldn’t live with himself if he knew he had left you.

His feet rounded the corner so quickly he almost slipped on the slick floor. He glanced down, heart racing until it burned his throat with bile. Blood.

I’m too late, he thought, dodging a body laying against the wall. It wasn’t you, the build all too different to have him second guess.

He clocked an extinguisher that had rolled into a wall, grabbing it as he sped past. He was seriously missing that bat right about now.

Steve almost missed it, set on getting there fast. But he saw it, a demodog of his nightmares dragging something into an empty classroom.

You.

Not wasting any more time, he lifted the extinguisher and jumped over you, landing just beside the creature biting at your foot. With as much force as he could muster, he drove the dull edge of the metal can down hard, knocking it off of you completely.

As it snarled back at him, pouncing, he met its sharp mouth with the can once again, bludgeoning it over and over until he was certain it stopped moving, faceless head flattened against the shine of the school floors.

Relaxing his shoulders, he moved to check you’re okay, that he really wasn’t too late. Your curled up body on the floor hadn’t relaxed him. Neither did the sudden pain to his leg as a sole makes contact with his shins, surely leaving a bruise as he staggers back.

And then you’re spinning onto your feet, lunging for something in the dark and turning to face him in the light, fist raised, fear in your eyes he hadn’t seen before.

He really wished you had just stayed in that classroom. And you looked like you did too.

“Shit, are you okay?”

You look up at him through knotted brows, blood staining your skin. You looked like hell.

“No.” You exasperate, holding back a sob. “No, I am not okay!”

“Right.” Steve nods. He felt stupid even asking the question in the first place. “Sorry.”

Rather than say something snarky, a retort Steve became accustomed to, you simply place your hands on your head, looking down at the monster dead by his feet.

“What the fuck is going on?” You ask. Your voice was merely a whisper, terror coating your words.

Just as Steve opened his mouth to respond, a growl echoed through the corridors, raising goosebumps along his skin. You look down the hallway you stood out in with a darted gaze, faded silhouettes dancing against the walls.

“We need to get out of here.” Steve moves towards you and holds out his hand, silently begging you to take it.

You look down at it, frowning. You had no idea what was going on, how to even continue after the experience you just had. Every possible fibre of your being just wanted to curl up and hide, to admit defeat. You were terrified. And this boy in front of you was offering his hand like it was normal, face set as if he knew what he was doing. How could he possibly be calm?

“You’re gonna have to trust me on this one.” Steve says, eyes unwavering from yours. In a normal circumstance you would have said no, told him where to shove his trust.

But this wasn’t a normal circumstance.

And in this moment, you trusted him completely.

You shoved your hand into his and he grasped it tightly, pulling you with him into the hallway and letting him guide you out of the school, away from the building echo of snarls behind you. You’ll cringe about the fact you were holding hands with Harrington later, when you were sure you had made it out alive.

You thought it could be over, just a freak accident in the school that would be swiftly taking care of, leaving you with scars but a sound mind knowing it was finished. The emergency exit had other ideas.

Steve throws himself against the exit, pulling you with him onto what you hoped would be safe grass. He lets go of your hand to slam the door shut behind him, backing away and finally releasing that shaky breath building in his chest.

Running a hand through his hair, he turns to you, expecting your confused and scared expression to con him into spilling the truth about the creatures. But your eyes were fixed on the sky, a numb expression instead.

Steve follows your stare, heart plummeting with it.

The atmosphere was dark, pieces of burning sky spiralling down in black ash, red lightning clashing against the charred clouds. One in particular was menacing, like a shadow.

The shadow wasn’t a cloud.

It stretched across the buildings, hauntingly built like a spider, invading the sky with its thick body. It looked like it was glitching, its shape buzzing on its outer corners like it was…

dust.

Chapter Two: Harsh Reality ->

taglist: @manyfandomsfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose . @palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear .

let me know if you want to be added/ removed from the taglist!

[rhaenizziettie]

Legacies 1x05 Rewatch:

The Dryad, I've missed her

I actually love how they show the evolution of the school with stuff like adapting to monsters and giving the students a voice

No because who takes over Raf's spot on the Honor Council when he dies

"YoU'rE nOt GoNnA lOsE tHe ElEcTiOn OvEr An OuTfIt." Why is it so hard for Josie to just support her sister for once.

"Lizzie Saltzman only cares about Lizzie Saltzman." You mean the Lizzie Saltzman, who does everything for her sister and sacrifices her life over and over again for every other student in that school?

"You still like it when I went low." "Oh, honey, you crush on me." Posie needed more than one season.

"We're not negotiating. Right, Ric?" "Uh ..." Dorian as headmaster would have been a great storyline.

Watching Rafael and Jed spar makes me realize that Finch never got to meet Rafael. What a wasted opportunity.

" You're mocking me." "Yeah but just a little bit." When I say Dorian and Alaric had more chemistry with the Dryad than they did with Emma or Mac ...

" Sometimes in the human world telling the truth can do more harm than good." OH THIS IS ABOUT THE MERGE. MM HMM.

"I see it in their smiles, in their laughter. I still see her sometimes." Going to cry thinking about that last scene in TVD

"You straight up refuse to swim across the lake." "Excuse the foster kid for never having swim lessons." And now he literally lives, immortal, ferrying across a lake.

Testing his ability to get away from you as fast as possible, Hope? Little Miss Hold on Tight?

So if Malivore's DNA showed up as literally everything, why did Landon's DNA show no supernatural history? Why didn't it raise any red flags?

"It's so nice to know you all love me as much as I thought you did." She's a comedian because I know she knows those kids hate her ass. They attended a book club reading of her diary. They laughed at her funeral. They did NOT love her and she knew it.

"Jackass Jed." If there's one thing the Saltzman twins know how to do best it's come up with nicknames.

"Say no more. I know how much it means to you and I would be happy to help." She needs a hug.

Tell me again how it's Lizzie who's getting in the way of Josie's romantic life?

What is the SBS sex ed class like because the amount of STD jokes those students make is kind of wild.

Not Josie giving away Lizzie's pink sweater ... like we never even got to see her wear it before you did that ...

"I've always wanted to be part of a power couple." Oh boy do I have news for you Lizzie

No, because Handon's "I don't want to be special" x "I need to be special" dynamic is so delicious

"You know, you can only hold out hope for so long and be hurt by so many people before it starts to seems impossible to trust someone new." "Do you trust me?" "Of course I do." Handizzie excellence.

Why did they have to do S1 Jed so dirty

"I'm trying to rise above it. So let me freaking rise."

"I'm a tribrid. The only one of my kind. No one can represent my interests but me." So does Lizzie finally get her spot on the council after becoming a heretic?

Did the Honor Council just disappear after Hope was forgotten??

Imagine if Lizzie had brought the truth orb with her when she hunted down Hope and confessed to being in love with her

Josie using her father and her sister almost dying since Landon arrived as an excuse to kick him out is kind of funny when you remember that later she kills her sister and doesn't care when her father stuck in a coma and on his death bed.

"This school is family." Guess nobody there can like each other now

That's TWO magical trees in the Legacies universe now ...

"What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?" No because one day I will write an essay on how all of Josie's love interests end up hating Lizzie for no reason and/or misinformed reasons and there's one common denominator.

"It's not about you. It's about how you treat Josie." Is that not literally about her. Like if your problem is that she doesn't exist solely to serve Josie, isn't that having a problem with her??

"Did you think to ask her if she wanted to run for council before you assumed you'd win?" DID YOU?? BECAUSE THAT GIRL LOOKED LIKE SHE WANTED TO DIE AS SOON AS SHE HAD TO MAKE A DECISION ON THE SPOT LIKE THAT.

The irony in Penelope telling Lizzie that she's left Josie with no room for herself when it's actually the opposite way around. Like real quick Miss Park, which one of them are you telling that they can't pursue their interests because the other twin might want it too?

I will never understand why Penelope acted like Lizzie and Josie couldn't both run for council. It was an open election. All she had to do was put her name in.

"She spends all her energy taking care of you." To recap in the past four episodes she has spent her energy trying to win over Rafael, trying to convince everyone to hate Penelope and not talk about her, trying to get offensive magic put into the school curriculum, trying to get everyone to lose the football game, and trying to drive a deeper wedge between Hope and Lizzie during community service. Now which part of that is taking care of Lizzie?

"You are a black hole of time and energy and love." Is the time and energy and love in the room with us right now?

"She won't ever burn you world down." The foreshadowing to her literally burning the school down ...

Every day I wish Penelope would have been around to see Josie in her black lipstick era.

No because what happened to pretty shots like the Handon kiss? When did TV shows stop caring about cinematic beauty and nicely lit shots and fantastic coloring??

Sandwiches are a Handon thing

"I have a family friend who's expecting you." The fact that we never see Landon with the Mikaelson family friend ...

Every time I see Raf and Lizzie's scene, I think about that post about how lesbians use hetero sex as a form of self harm and there has never been a better example to exist in all of history. Like what part of being told that you're the worst person in the world makes you horny??

Also Lizzie Saltzman kiss a guy without crying challenge. Like sweetie if you're crying every time you have to kiss them, maybe it's for a reason.

Every time I hear Someone to You on the radio I get chills because of this episode

[inastarlesssky]

Okay, folks. Another essay. (Not a character analysis, folks.)

How I feel about Ron. Under the cut bc it might not be very Ron-friendly (but no Ron-bashing here (okay maybe a little) , just my honest thoughts)

Just gonna start off by saying what follows is my opinion. I haven't read the books, and I don't really plan to. Anything I write, my fics, my meta, you name it, is taken from the movies. That being said, it's just that. Sure, it might not be completely informed bc I haven't read the books. And I'd also like to clarify (my fault for not mentioning this before) this is not a character analysis of Ron Weasley, this is my opinion concerning him from what I've seen in the movies. My opinion is most certainly not law and it's definitely not fully informed bc I haven't read the books, but it's just me putting my thoughts out there.

Alright, so maybe I misunderstand things sometimes. Maybe it's been a few years since I've seen the movies. But the thing is, I don't quite like Ron as a character. Why?

In the first few movies, it's endearing how scared silly he can be, and it's sweet to see he's such good friends with Harry and Hermione. But what really got me was in Harry Potter & the Goblet of Fire. Yes, there was the tension between Ron and Harry, but what called my attention was Ron's behaviour towards Hermione. Specifically "You're a girl. Come to the ball with me?" As if she was his last option--she who over the span of a few movies was a good friend and you'd think he might care a little bit more. But then again, they're teenagers, he's probably not thinking as well as he should. It just seemed very un-gentlemanly like to me the way that he asked her about it. If I were here, I wouldn't have appreciated that.

Then, at the actual Ball itself, he was jealous. That's understandable, happens to the best of us. But she was happy and practically beaming that evening. When he accused her of 'fraternizing with the enemy', that was kind of a last straw it seemed to me. Like 1) as she points out, the other schools aren't to be thought of as enemies. It's a competition, but the idea of the Ball was to have everyone together 2) I really don't think he's in a position to speak down to her when he asked her in a less-than-noble way to be his date for the ball.

Thus far my thoughts on Ron. Now bringing up Draco. Now being a Dramione shipper, myself, I will say that of course, I prefer her with Draco rather than with Ron. Why is that? Well, I can't speak for others--but for my part, the Draco that I like and that I ship with Hermione, is one that sees the error of his ways, that apologizes to her and determines (and actually makes efforts to) to be a better man. Basically this is solely in fanfics bc of course, in canon, the closest thing to redemption that we see for Draco is 1) the Manor scene when he refuses to identify Harry and 2) the deleted scene where he throws Harry his wand.

It's true that Draco also was an asshole when he called her mudblood and spoke down to her. He also mistreated her to a certain degree. But the difference I'm making is that in the fanfics I've read, I've seen a progression from 12-year old arrogant Slytherin to a man who will set fire to the world around him but never let them touch Hermione, a man who would move heaven and earth for her. A man who knows he's flawed and knows that he's hurt the woman he loves but he makes every effort to amend that and be better.

If there are Ron/Hermione fics that show him turning around from that moment at the Ball and being a better man, please feel free to hit me up with those, and I'd love to take a look. But it just seems funny to me that that's kind of swept under the rug. Like yes, Hermione forgives. But--if both Draco and Ron insulted Hermione in one way or another--why should there be more work for Draco to redeem himself in Hermione's eyes than Ron? You'd think (so I think) it would have hurt her more to be so treated by Ron, her friend, bc of their history.

To clarify, I am not trying to make a point here that one ship is better than the other. No. Ship and let ship, that's my theme. I just wanted to get my thoughts out bc I was considering and thought I might share it.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[lookedlikethebins]

Could you tell us about all the wips you have planned cus I can't keep track anymore 👀

omg i'm so so sorry i really do talk about a bunch don't i? i've always got a bunch of fics going at once so no matter what i feel like writing i have something i can jump into... which must make keeping track a nightmare. so yes! let me recap for you:

in no particular order we have:

shirt-sharing fic: this one keeps changing (and taking longer to write than i wanted lol) but essentially the bare bones idea is matty borrows a shirt from george before a interview with the whole band and it Doesn't Go Unnoticed.

new parents fic: a brief glimpse/collection of glimpses into the life & times of new parents george and matty!

the "if i believe you" fic: based on a line in a poem: "God did a very good job with you." it's in the country recording studio/abiior-era and matty just has a lot of thoughts about how God makes good things-- of course He does-- but he, himself, is not one of those things. but george is. george is divine, matty just is. (very prose/internal monologue heavy and i'm loving writing it tbh.)

non-famous!matty fic: george, ross, and adam are still (a version of) the 1975. waughy has this really nice officemate at the uni he's teaching at that's a TA/PhD candidate for the lit dept. george has to pick waughy up for rehearsal one day and the rest is history... we just get to see matty being The Biggest Fan of the 1975 and also, entirely by coincidence, being bespectacled and having hot takes on books (that i'm reading...)

the gatty ft. raughy fic: matty is apparently the last person to know that two of his closest friends/bandmates are dating and he's confused that 1. he missed it completely 2. everyone else (including his own husband) seemed to know but him and 3. they let him just Be That Oblivious for years. he starts paying closer attention and enjoys seeing his friends happy (with the correct context now)

camera roll collection: basically i found a bunch of candids (taken by the band/jordan) of matty and/or george and said, context be damned, i'm using this as a photo prompt like i'm in middle school and this is a timed essay. first picture is this 2019 pic of matty at the airport.

the hours of the left behind part ii: this fic was originally intended to be a standalone of the hours right after george drops matty off to fly to barbados. but now part ii is when george picks him up and tries to help matty readjust to being home. but also matty begins to sees how george was while he was away (having put on a brave smile every time matty called).

(be my) god and country ch 3/epilogue: not sure how i want to expand this universe bc i really love the foundations that fic has for timelines/ideas on certain aspects of their relationship that i want to keep returning to and building on (and not rewriting again and again lol) BUT i have ideas for a honeymoon maybe, a wintering-type fic where they go home for christmas, they talk about having kids... it's a whole world of possibilities!! open to suggestions...

[hitchhikerwithoutguide]

Good News (about me) Tuesday or something idk. Then it gets Bad News

on Friday last week I met my bff, we had a good long chat as we always do, it's always so comforting to talk with her

even tho we're completely different people, we have taught each other so much about the world we live in

on Saturday I was pretty exhausted, I don't do a lot of socializing these days, but I had evening plans and was gonna change my tires

First was changing tires, so I drove to my parents' place and my dad helped me. It somehow gave me energy. I find changing tires to be... tiring, often, but this time I felt really good, just hanging out with my dad and I could do it almost completely on my own. My dad is really just there because I'm so anxious about doing it wrong, and because I don't know where he keeps all the tools and the winter tires, so he has to gather those for me.

It just completely changed the anxiety and exhaustion to a lighthearted, feel good kinda mood.

When we went to our evening plans, to my other closest friend, I was tired but content. We watched all four Ice Age movies and talked the night away.

Sunday I was exhausted when me and my partner got back home, and even more anxious about my studies.

I have an essay due Sunday and I haven't started yet. I've been reading the material several times over and am finding new articles to read about the subject, but I just don't seem to get it.

This is my last assignment before the semester ends, and I've passed all the other assignments, so it feels like I should get it. But I dont. It stresses me out so much.

If I don't finish it this week I will be able to send it in at a later date and my grade will just be postponed, but that will take a toll on my stupid pride. I haven't been behind on my studies since high school. But since high school I've only been reading single semester courses, and only one before the one I'm reading now.

My previous studies were history, a subject I'm already passionate about, and even though I just barely passed, I did pass all assignments on time. But I was 19, I still had the discipline and knew how to make a structured day.

My studies have been... sort of structured. But not in the same way.

I'm also reading a subject I thought would be easy and fun, philosophy, but so far it's mostly been annoying and stressful. It has of course been fun at times! I enjoy the subject, but not as much as I thought I would.

I would do anything for my brain to just. Get it.

Sometimes I think I get it, and I think I'm ready to start writing, but while I sit there I just go completely blank. I think I understand, but when I try to explain it I realize that I actually.... don't understand, at all.

And it's so frustrating.

[k--havok]

15 Questions, 15 Mutuals

@ceph-the-ghost-writer tagged me in this game which I am so happy for since I've seen it being passed around for a bit now!

A lot of my mutuals have done this game but I'll see if I can tag some new people: @dogmomwrites @atlasprieto @saintedseraph @rachaellawrites @menagerie-of-monsters @faelanvance @winterandwords @writing-moth and an open tag for you!

Alright, let's get to it then!

1. Are you named after anyone?

I am named after a Star Trek character since my mom is a huge trekkie!

2. When was the last time you cried?

Um probably the other day when I yawned really big, it makes me tear up haha. Before that, not sure. Probably when I had a meltdown back last Sunday if that doesn't count.

3. Do you have kids?

Nope, not at the moment. And unfortunately due to the yeehaw state this choice has been taken away from me :) thanks Greg.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

It's my main language unless I'm at work.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

This is gonna sound bad but usually their age and physical ability. But I also work in a hospital so usually I need to immediately see whether or not the patients will be needing any assistance on any given day. Beyond that, I'm a face person so usually a person's facial features.

6. What’s your eye color?

Boring brown unfortunately.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

You say this as if scary movies cannot have happy endings. But honestly it matters on my mood. Scary movies are like a comedy to me so even if it's not happy for the characters, I'm usually busting a gut.

8. Any special talents?

I can fold my tongue backwards and flat against itself. I think that counts?

9. Where were you born?

North Texas (yeehaw)

10. What are your hobbies?

Well... writing, reading, digital art, Magic: The Gathering, video games (I like a wide variety), cooking/baking, building Legos, and sex/BDSM if I'm being honest lol

I want to get into painting mini figures too altho my hands shake. Haven't had the time to sit down and start yet tho!

11. Have you any pets?

I currently have two wiener dogs that are the loves and lights of my life.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

...Marching band IS a sport and it is a hill I AM willing to die on. I played clarinet! But that's it... I am hopeless when it comes to most sports due to how clumsy I am.

13. How tall are you?

65" or 5' 5"

14. Favorite subject in school?

So high-school wise that's easily History if I am being honest. (Partially because it was the only class that wasn't "flipped classroom" and I didn't have to write bullshit essays). I also really liked biology but unfortunately my teacher(s) HATED me since I never paid attention in class but still got all As.

In college... I really enjoyed my Anatomy and Physiology class. I also took a class on ECG/arrhythmias and I really liked it as well. I also really enjoyed my American History classes in college and my Creative Writing elective.

15. Dream job?

I am blessed to be currently working my dream job. It's a tiny and niche field tho so I'll leave it up to ya'll to figure out what I do based on context clues.

That being said, in the future I do want to eventually get my license to do EEGs. Also debating on getting a degree in Respiratory Therapy as well, but mainly to make more money if I continue to work with CPAP patients. I lean more into the neuroscience of my field rather than the respiratory/cardiovascular side tho. Plus I wouldn't have to go back to school to get licensed in EEG, which is nice.

Lots of decisions but I have the rest of my life to figure it out so I'm in no rush.

[orangesunsets12]

Answer all 50 questions!

I've never been asked to do all of them before...but challenge accepted!

What are three shows in your watchlist that you’ve been meaning to get to? --- I have so many...but if I had to pick 3 I would say Daredevil, Ms. Marvel, and Marvel's What If...? .

Describe your favorite pair of socks --- Very fuzzy, with white and green stripes.

Do you like smoothies?---Yes, but I don't have them very often.

What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?---Usually dress pants with a plain long sleeve shirt, I don't have many nice clothes lol.

How do you like your eggs?---Scrambled or hard boiled.

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book?--- A Lord of the Rings bookmark I got as a gift, featuring Gollum. I don't know how this became my go to bookmark, but it is now, so...yeah.

What color dominates your closet?--- My closet has a lot of coral colors (oranges, pinks, yellows...)

Do you collect anything? If so, what?---Funko POPs. I started collecting them a couple of years ago, and I can't stop. I have tons of Marvel ones, and my Stranger Things collection of Funko POPs is growing. In total, I have 132 of them...I'm both proud of this number as well as embarrassed by it...

What sounds or scents calm you down?---Any sort of music helps calm me down, but lately Djo's song End of Beginning has been my go to song when I'm stressed. It has such a great vibe...it's by far one of my favorite songs.

What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc)---Aesthetic.

Do you wear glasses or contacts?---Glasses

What’s something about your best friend that you love?---My friend is so much like me, so that's something, but I really like how passionate she gets about the stuff that she likes!

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?---Pen. Ever since I was forced to write essays in pen at school, it's always my go to writing tool.

What are some places where you feel most at home?---Does a movie theater count? It's one of my favorite places in the world, and I've had so many great memories in movie theaters! It's probably my home away from home. But my room would have to be one too, it has all of my books, Funko POPs, and my dogs are usually in there too, so it's 100% home to me.

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?--- I have a croton plant that I have named Finnick, in honor of Finnick Odair from the Hunger Games.

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?---My favorite hoodie is a plain orange one, I got it a few weeks ago. It's my favorite color, it's super soft, and it's super baggy on me, which is exactly what I like.

What’s the last thing you ordered online?---I think it was a Funko POP display case, a replacement for a book that was destroyed by melted snow (the joys of living in Canada...)

What’s one historical event that you would have liked to have witnessed?---I don't know if this is considered a "historical event" but I would have loved to have gone to one of Shakespeare's plays. Then I might have been able to understand what was going on lol

What’s your favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid?--- Probably a popstar.

What kind of math are you best at?---I would say mostly everything but probability. I love math, and was pretty good at it in school, but probability was super hard for me, and I have no clue why. My favorite math is most likely algebra.

What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!--- My favorite art work is probably The Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh.

Iced or hot drinks?---Iced.

Which songs do you like to sing in the shower?---I don't usually sing in the shower, but if I did I would sing songs that I can just belt out to, like Hold my Hand by Lady Gaga.

Are you a good driver?---....no? I honestly feel like I'm a horrible driver, even though everyone else says otherwise.

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want?---I have ear piercings, no tattoos, but I really want to get a tattoo one day, I just have no clue of what yet.

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialties?---I can't cook or bake, really...and I don't really enjoy it. I do like cutting vegetables, though, so I'll help, but I'll stay far away from the stove.

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them!---No keychains yet, but I'm on the lookout for a nice one!

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming?---I love swimming, but I wouldn't say that I'm very good at it.

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favorite set?---I LOVED playing with Legos! My favorite set would be Jay's dragon from Ninjago!

Is your closet organized? If so, how?---Nope. Not organized at all.

What’s the last music video you watched?---It'll be Okay by Shawn Mendes

If you could dye your hair any color, regardless of how you think it would look, what color would you choose?---Dark blue or purple

Headphones or earbuds?---Earbuds

Can you read analog clocks?---Yes, but it takes me a minute...

Describe your favorite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid.---A giraffe. That's all it is, a giraffe.

What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at?---None of them, I guess..?

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking?---It's fine if there are other people there on the rare occasion that I cook.

What’s one show you watch or musician you listen to that your friends know nothing about?---Djo for a musician, probably Glee for a show.

What was the best part of your day today?--- I get to stay up super late tonight because I don't work tomorrow!

What’s your favorite kind of tree?---Weeping Willow

What scent is your deodorant?---I have no clue and I'm not getting up to check lol.

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favorite?---I don't have many games on my phone, I never play them, either.

Do you shower with the lights on or off? On...wait, do people shower with them off???

What do you do with spare change?---Spend it on iced coffee

Do you have good handwriting?---I don't think so, but it's readable, at least

What’s the last thing a friend recommended to you that you looked into and actually liked?- The Flash TV show!

Do you like to go on walks?---Sometimes, but only when the weather is good and I have music.

Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?---Not really.

What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s raining?---Watch Netflix

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions---With too many blankets to count layered on top of me, like, way too many.

Thanks for the ask, this was super fun! And thanks to @idiot-stevie for the asks as well, I combined it in this big post!

50 Questions Just Because

[cl0ckworkpuppet]

time for jordan lore update and also a silly little story you might be able to learn from if you think you're bad at history like i did

when i was a kid (and even now as I go through college), strangely I excelled in almost every single subject. seriously. for some reason that I didn't understand up until incredibly recently, I could walk into an assignment blind and end up with a 90% or higher. every single essay i wrote in college, i got at least a 95% on while writing them all in one sitting, starting 4 hours before they were due. as long as i have a formula, i can figure out pretty much any math problem. science may have been a little trickier, but still very easy.

I did fucking horrible in history.

seriously, when i say "history was my weakest subject", i don't mean "i understood history the least". I mean, "History is a subject that is completely lost on me and I physically cannot keep the information in my brain for more than 4 picoseconds, nor can i get myself to care about in the absolute slightest (for the most part)." I still managed to bullshit my way through assignments, but if you ask me any part of history that I learned in school, I would barely be able to tell you anything. not even the year of incredibly important historical events to the US (the country in which I've lived for all of my education career thus far).

i always thought i was just... bad at history. and to an extent, i kind of am: my memory is absolute dogwater. i cannot learn things via memorization in a typical sense. (that's why i don't study hardly ever lol, most of my knowledge comes from intuitive thinking i think? and sure, history has intuitive thinking and common sense stuff, i.e. "it always repeats itself", but that's like. that's like giving a starving animal one (1) breadcrumb)

but then i thought about it for a second. i'm autistic, and my interests are incredibly broad with many things i know about each one. and the more i thought about it, the more i realized that i was able to easily learn and understand the history of my interests. i didn't understand why that was until i thought a little more about how history is taught: it's taught most commonly in the format of dates and events in a nonlinear timeline (as in, discussing multiple different events at the same time). but when i learn about history of things on my own time, it's usually structured as more cause-and-effect. absent of how important my interests are to me, cause-and-effect is just. an easier way of understanding history.

moral of this post: US school system sucks

[cru5h-cascades]

Okay, music update time.

So I should be getting my guitar by tomorrow (should be arriving by 10 PM but with some of my packages tending to come in super early like my inkling plush and obviously Hot Fuss it could be earlier who knows). I was planning on releasing one last track before going on hiatus but idk. It's nearly finished but I don't think it's my best work (this track is supposed to be another Sirenide track btw).

Anyways, I'm already looking at tutorials online to figure out how I'm gonna learn. I found some that can supposedly teach me how to play in 10 to 21 days. As to how effective these vids are going to be is unknown, but hey if I figured out how to use photoshop and sort of figured out animation (ain't no way I can animate shit on my home chromebook so I haven't attempted anything on it yet), maybe I can figure this out. Also, I need to figure out how to tune guitars. Thankfully, guitar tuning websites and apps exist so they can do the heavy work for me 'cause it's been FOREVER since I've been in a music class and I've never tuned a guitar before (My music teacher before going to high school was A CHAD. Bro is what got me to start making music to begin with! He let us dabble in playing guitars for a little bit but just towards the end of a unit we were doing. After that we started our electronic music unit and the rest is history...).

I dunno how long I'll be on a break from music for (depends on how long it takes me to become confident enough to make some stuff using my newly aquirred guitar skills). When I do come back to music, I'm probably gonna post something showing off my guitar skills. I may not have a mic to record this stuff on, but I got a plan. Finally, soundtrap actually has an upside! Basically, I can plug in my guitar into my computer (obviously my school one) and use that as an amp to record my stuff on. Of course, I'm going to have to test this out first to see how effective this all is (might post some test audio for that), but at least I sort of have a plan for all this guitar buisness. Will I start out with covers or try making my own stuff? I dunno. But at least expect some stuff featuring actual instruments. Might go back to my OG soundtrap junk now and then why not. One of my friends and I are working on something behind the scenes and if all goes well I'll properly reveal this huge project of whatever (I guess this is your first clue to what that project might be).

And what about my other stuff? Calamity Circus, my art, and the planned Murder Trilogy essay (yep that's right I'm still gonna do that! I might start writing it after finishing Calamity Circus or towards the end of summer. I think it depends on weither or not S3's judgement day aka final fest is happening this summer or not 'cause I have a story planned for that event.)? Well, don't worry I still plan on working on all of that, especially Calamity Cicus since I've been working on that ever since I finalized Your Side of Order's basic story beats and I really wanna get this story out there. Art's still coming out, maybe at it's usual rate.

So yeah that's what to expect for the next I don't know how long. I'm still working on getting a job since I still haven't gotten word back about my application that I sent out a while back, so things should be pretty normal until I do ultimately get a job (hopefully I'll be able to get enough cash to get a functional computer with a touchscreen). In the meanwhile I'm just gonna take it easy, recover from the hell known as the previous school year, make my art, and try to beat the summer heat. This has been your local paranormal pest, cru5h. Stay fresh, y'all :D

[endergirlplayz]

Character study??

ok so the post 8 just reblogged inspired me to post a short writing peice I made about a year ago that's just pink 243 and blue 312 hanging out (btw if ppl like this I'll finish the second one I started lol)

Btw this is what the characters look like(p.s apologies for bad writing I wrote this a year ago)

I woke up at 730 am on a Friday. I have a day off from work today so I planned to meet my friend pink243 at the coffe shop. I sat up from my pink bed and looked out my large window. The lights from the outer ceiling looked extra bright. I wish our planet had stars at night like other instead after 10 pm all the lights on the roofs of the eri station would go dark. I got up and fixed my long Blue hair by putting it up in clips. And gest dressed for the day. I wear a blue tank top and matching shorts, it is always warm enough you can wear things like that on eri. I Double check that I had worn my silver heart necklace. I put some shoes in before pink3 stopped me " hey are you gonna eat before you leave?"She asked "oh, no ill get some food at the coffe shop" I replied. Pink3 sighed, normally I dint see her in the mornings cause her work started earlier than mine. She is like a mom to me, the closest thing I've had, anyway. She's so cool shes a teacher at the spirit high-school of magic. As one of the oldest spirits in eri She teaches animal magic,the magic she desighned and founded, to other students at my old high school. I was kind a glad to br out of there school was rough for me, I was frieny and tried to be nice but I wasn't very pretty, and Always did my makeup all funny, I just dont wear makeup anymore. I hopped out the front door of our house gently running my hand along the railings on our porch before quickly walking to the coffee shop. When I arrived pink 243 was already there waiting for me. She was sitting at her table. Wearing a eri fashioned jumpsuit. I didn't wear clothes that fit eris fashion style much. Other planets fashion was Far less futuristic and way more comfy. I walked up to my friend and sat at the table next to her. "Hello" she said, waving shyly.i waved back " so, pink, what did you do this week, i really like your hair by the way" she blushed a little at the complement. "Thank you. I've been writing an essay on our history" she replied. Pink 243 has always been pretty blunt, it make it hard for her to find friends in school, she rarely even talked to me when She first moved to this segment of eri, now she's probably the best friend I've ever had. I smile at my awkward friend " that sounds interesting. You should show me sometimes" I smiled "mabey, but I wish I could write about familiar magic." Pinks always been facinated by familiar care. She's even told me she'd like to go into a work field of studying them. I also find them neat but not nearly as much as she does. I'm more ineterst3d in robotics and intend to go I totally feild when i get accepted into one of eris collages. "Do you mabey wanna grab some food from inside?" I asked, remembering why we cane here in the first place. "Yes, let's go" pink 243 replied. Today is gonna be a good day. I just know it.

[suspicious-pools-of-blood]

Hi buddy! Its Athena, I'm sending this out to all my mutuals - what got you into writing, what inspires you, who inspires you and what music inspires you to write? what do you love about writing?

Hi Athena!

To be honest, I don't actually know when I first got into writing. Especially if we count the "daydreaming plotlines of stories that never actually get written down," I've been doing that since I was a kid. I guess I started writing in middle school; we'd get assignments in English class to write stories and I'd always get way too ambitious and perfectionist with it and have trouble keeping it as a short story haha. In eighth grade we had one such assignment that was open-ended enough that the story I came up with would have needed at least a full book to contain it all, so I ended up just submitting a chapter 1 with a "to be continued" at the end. I wrote bits and pieces here and there continuing that story, but for the most part it just lived in my brain for several years. High school English class was a lot more essay-based than middle school, but my tenth grade teacher was fond of fiction; we had one or two full short story assignments, but for the first few months we also would get weekly vocabulary homework that involved writing a (very) short story using that week's words, and I think that's what really got me into writing. Those were more like one-shots than full short stories, but it made me remember how fun writing fiction is (and it's also around that time that I started writing more predominantly angst/whump, which is now my bread and butter). I just checked my old google drive files and it looks like I started actually writing stuff down around 2017 and actually writing my main story -- which, although nearly unrecognizable now, is the same one I started in eighth grade -- towards the end of 2020.

Inspiration: I think I'm mostly inspired by (1) other media and (2) history, with heavy overlap between the two. Full disclosure, coming as no surprise to anyone who has talked to me for over 5 minutes, I watched Xena: Warrior Princess in 2020 and it permanently rewired by brain harder than anything else ever has. In my elementary school, everyone got their Greek mythology phase from reading Percy Jackson in class, but my English class was the only one that didn't read it, so none of us had that phase -- until I watched Xena, and the ancient Mediterranean became one of my primary hyperfixations. I was never much into history before, but I always loved the medieval vibe of fantasy (although I actually was never into high fantasy/magic worlds); my formative book series as a kid was the Ranger's Apprentice series by John Flanagan. (Side note, I think John Flanagan having written that series when he wasn't a writer previously was also influential for making me view writing as an activity with a very low bar for entry, so I didn't feel intimidated or like I shouldn't write just because I wasn't aiming for a career in writing.) So when I first started writing I defaulted to the generic run of the mill medieval-England-with-the-serial-number-filed-off setting that a lot of earth-like fantasy defaults to. By high school I think the setting had started to become more original, though still approximately equivalent to medieval Europe. But once I watched Xena, I realized that actually ancient Greece is so much cooler what the fuck. From there I watched some other stuff made by the same people who made Xena, including the STARZ Spartacus series, so I got generally into ancient history because of all that. I started reading a lot more nonfiction history books (as well as well-researched historical fiction, for the vibes) covering various civilizations of the ancient Mediterranean (not limited to Greece and Rome). I'm also half Turkish, so I was raised with the vague awareness that before the Turks there had been a number of great civilizations in Anatolia, from which we were partly descended (fun fact, my parents actually named me after one of those civilizations; it was one of my given middle names, but unfortunately no one told me it was based on that until after a decade of hating it because to me it was just a random girl's name and every time I mentioned not liking it my parents would be like "oh but it's a beautiful name" and I assumed it was just more of them being transphobic and not wanting me to change it to a boy's name lmao). I also sort of knew (though I didn't know the historical details) that our people migrated to Anatolia from central Asia a long time ago (tbc most Turks are genetically only very slightly Turkic, but a lot of cultural elements can be traced back to the nomadic lifestyle, even stuff as simple as our cuisine being a lot more dairy-based than other cultures in the area) and used to be nomadic warriors, what with the horseback archers and all that, so that inspired me for the whole other half of my setting. I also got into the history of the steppes, from the Mongols in the medieval era all the way back to the various peoples such as the Sarmatians or Scythians theorized to have been the basis for the Greek myth of the Amazons. And recently I started watching a Turkish show (okay, I started it like a year ago, it just has very long episodes that I have a really hard time sitting through) called Destan that is set in central Asia before the Turkic migration, and that's probably the biggest influence currently on my writing. [Stefon voice:] This show's got everything. Nomadic tribal politics and governmental organization, a strong female lead, so many strong female characters actually, horseback archery, a pet wolf, kurgans, fantastic fight choreography.

Whoops, wall of text. Here, have some line breaks.

I'll also add, for who inspires me, other writers on tumblr! For me this is more of a whump thing than a general writing thing; I used to feel suuuuuper self-conscious about writing fucked up shit (that was probably the biggest reason why I rarely wrote stuff down, because What If Someone Saw It) but now I open my dash and see way more fucked up shit than I could write lmao so idk if that counts as inspiration, but it definitely gets me past certain mental blocks to writing.

Music is a tough one, because I have OC playlists and whatnot, but those tend to be more "put them on and stare at an empty document for an hour" playlists than actual writing playlists. Sometimes I'll pick one specific song (or just a few) and put them on loop. If I have a song with lyrics associated with a specific scene, that might inspire me to write that scene, but for general writing inspiration I go more for either instrumentals or ~vibes~ music (a good example is Calyx Virago by Xandria, which fun fact is where my OC Calyx's name comes from).

My favorite part of writing is probably the end result. I write what I want to read (as evidenced by the fact that my story basically came about by putting all my hyperfixations into a blender and pouring out the results into a google doc), so I very much am the "Oh boy I can't wait for the next chapter! What do you mean I HAVE TO WRITE IT?!" type of writer lmao. That's also why I do a lot of story development in my head without writing things down, because I imagine scenes more like a movie, and then often have difficulty putting it into words in a way that sounds good. But if/when I do manage to do that well, it's gotta be my favorite part of the whole process.