#anyway i just wanted to post SOMETHING here to have the illusion of closure for today

[funforahermit]

look at this sad excuse for a compilation, it has like 30% of the material that i wanted in there and only NOW is it small enough to post here 'xD

[audreydoeskaren]

Abridged history of early 20th century Chinese womenswear (part 1: 1890s & 1900s) *improved version

Source here

*I’m fixing and reposting the first two posts of this series because back then I had no idea how Tumblr formatting functioned and they deserve better. I’m keeping the shoddy original versions for archival purposes.

*After some thought I think it makes more sense to group the 1890s and 1900s together.

Other posts in the series:

Part 1: 1890s (original)

Part 2: 1900s & 1910s (original)

Part 3.1: 1920s-silhouette

Part 3.2: 1920s-design details

Part 3.3: 1920s-accessories, hair & makeup

Part 4.1: 1930s-silhouette & design

Part 4.2: 1930s-hair, makeup & accessories

Part 5: 1940s

Part 6.1: 1950s-Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan & friends

Part 6.2: 1950s-mainland China

Intro & context

In order to understand early 20th century Chinese fashion we have to go back a bit into the past to have some clue about the context. When the Manchus conquered China and established the Qing Dynasty in the mid 17th century, Han Chinese men adopted Manchu style clothing but Han Chinese womenswear remained independent and separate from Manchu womenswear. Han Chinese women retained the habit of wearing a two piece ensemble as the outermost layer, unlike Manchu women, who wore a single floor length robe. I will be only discussing Han Chinese women’s fashion in this series.

In the 19th century, Han Chinese women wore 袄裙 aoqun, a two piece ensemble consisting of a robe and a skirt. The robe had a very low 立领, standing collar. In the second half of the 19th century, the robe in aoqun had a very generous and roomy cut and huge sleeves, a look which reached its peak in the 1860s and 70s. The hem of the robe hit the knees, the length in vogue since the 1870s. The collar of the robe is very low, only providing enough space for one button, likewise in fashion since the 1870s. The robe is closed with 盘扣 pankou, which in this era were always plain with either a bead or fabric knot tip. The robe closes at the side, usually at the right side at the 大襟 dajin, the side closure, however examples of robes with closures on the left also existed. Robes with closures on both the right and left were also a thing, a style called 双襟 shuangjin, double closure. Shuangjin robes were derived from a men’s riding vest, the 巴图鲁坎肩 batulu vest (batulu is Manchu for “warrior”), that could be opened from both sides, and would experience a revival in the 1920s. 

Source here

1870s/80s photograph of a group of women in aoqun, the two skirts on the left are the elaborate mamian style, the one on the right is plain.

In aoqun, the skirt was usually of a style called 马面 mamian, made of two long horizontal pieces of pleated fabric with two flat sections each sewn to a waistband with one flat section overlapping, creating a wrap skirt that once worn around the wearer’s waist, appears to have two unpleated sections, one at the front and one at the back. This skirt was very decorative in the 19th century, full of embroidery, tassels and elaborate trim, sometimes giving the illusion of a separate apron being attached (I’ve seen this weird stereotype that traditional Chinese womenswear has a separate apron at the front this is complete bogus). The robes were likewise heavily decorated around the seams, ceremonial outfits like wedding gowns could be so full of embroidery that the original fabric is hardly to be seen.

The combination of robe and pants, 袄裤 aoku, was also a common way of dressing since approximately the 1800s or 1810s. This combination would become the norm in the 1890s.

Source here

1870s/80s photograph of a woman in a ginormous ao, roomy pants and with bound feet.

Another noteworthy fad was bound feet. The middle of the 19th century was the pinnacle of foot binding and fashionable women had incredibly small feet, dubbed “lotus feet”. This was achieved by wrapping tight foot binding cloth around the feet since childhood and restricting the growth of the feet, I think also breaking a couple bones in the process. Women wore foot binding cloth and baggy stockings underneath their shoes, tied up with garters below the knees. Foot binding is said to severely restrict mobility and cause intense pain; I don’t doubt the pain part but I’m not sure about mobility since I’ve seen plenty of photographs of women with bound feet roaming about the streets.

Not every woman did foot binding though, it depended heavily on region, class and the individual family. For one, Manchu women all had natural feet. For Han women, an account from the 1850s said that in Beijing, every five or six out of ten women did not have bound feet, and that probability is three or four out of ten in the countryside. In the provinces along the southern coast, most women did not bind their feet (this probably has to do with the influence of indigenous cultures in the south, since foot binding was primarily a Han fashion), whereas in the northwest almost every woman had bound feet. By the way, I really don’t like how articles on foot binding describe it in the most sensational way possible, why is it so hard to approach history with peace of mind? And it pisses me off that all the articles containing 1890s photographs only talk about the foot binding as if there is nothing more of value in portraits of whole ass women.

Anyway, if you are interested in learning more about foot binding, check out  Cinderella‘s Sisters: A Revisionist History of Footbinding by Dorothy Ko, recommended by @thefeastandthefast​ . Or just anything written by Dorothy Ko tbh.

Silhouette

In the 1890s, the cut of the aoqun began to become more slender and form fitting, commonly believed to be a result of westernization. But I think it’s also because the wide sleeve look has also been in fashion for quite a while now (some 80 years or so) and people were getting tired of it. The robe inherited the knee length hem from the 1880s but was less baggy and took on a more straight cut silhouette. The collar remained quite low until the end of the decade. Pants were overwhelmingly more popular than skirts in the 1890s, I speculate this may be due to a rising interest in feminism and women wanting more mobility, but aoku was also very popular in the 1870s and 80s in general so it may have also just carried over. The pants were still ankle length and straight cut but less roomy than earlier 19th century models. Overall the 1890s just looks like a shrunken and simplified version of the 1880s.

Source here

The aoku as of the 1890s.

By the second half of the 1900s, the collar began to rise, becoming medium height. This was kind of reminiscent of late 18th century Han women’s collars I mentioned in this post on Chinese standing collars. The robe and pants shrunk further, becoming quite tight fitting. The robe was still around knee length. The pants were especially tight and could be considered skinny. Foot binding became less common and many women had natural sized feet. However, since foot binding is something that begins in the childhood, the fact that many women without bound feet appeared in the 1900s meant that many parents started to reject food binding in the 1880s and 90s. 

Source here

Ca. 1907 photograph of a group of women, possibly students, in tight fitting aoku.

Design details

The 1890s saw the mass disappearing of wide, embroidered trims around the seams, popular throughout the 19th century. The use of multiple rows of binding/trim from the 1870s and 80s was continued, albeit in a much more minimalistic and geometric way. I’ve seen a lot of plain white ao finished with multiple rows of black binding of different widths, it’s mighty avant-garde and elegant. Because clothes of the era were still constructed in the older Chinese method, they had a seam down the middle of the sleeves used to extend the length of the sleeves; this seam could be bound and decorated but it was not compulsory. Actual embroidery on the robe and skirt/pants was rare, if not non-existent; completely plain fabric was the norm. The ao of this era commonly had a 厂字襟 (厂 shaped closure), where the front placket is held up by one or two buttons and then closed by more buttons down the side seam. This style of closure was first popularized for Han women’s clothing in the 1800s and 1810s, before that Han women’s clothing closures were a straight line from the collar to the armpit. The pankou used to close the ao of this period became a lot more elaborate and the main source of decoration; I have a whole ass post on them here. A general air of simplicity, comfort and proportionality dominated the fashion of this era. In the mid 18th century, Han women’s robes started having folded cuffs (possibly borrowed from Manchu court dress), called 挽袖 wanxiu, and these became fake and represented by a piece of trimming in the 1850s. By the 1890s this design feature largely disappeared, leaving the sleeve edges either plain or simply bound.

Source here

Three women in aoku, late 1890s. I looooove the look on the far left, I will probably make it some day.

Going into the 1900s, the geometric trims became more simplified and austere, while the pankou became increasingly ornamental.

Source here

Late 1900s photograph. The robe is trimmed with fur and thin, geometric binding, and closed by very ornamental pankou.

Hair & Makeup

There were no significant changes in hairstyling in the 1890s, fashionable women would wear existing 1880s hairstyles but style them with bangs. A common style I’ve seen in photographs was long hair pulled back into either one big bun at the back or two smaller ones at the sides. The short bangs were usually very neat, precisely cut and sat closely to the forehead. Elastics did not exist, so Chinese women used strings and hairpins to tie their hair together. Hairpins of this era were usually very thick and sturdy, a single one was enough to hold all your hair into a bun. It was popular to use flowers and/or pearls to form a ring of decorations around a bun. 

Source here

Common 1890s hairstyle, for most people the decorations weren’t so elaborate.

A popular headpiece was this thin headband adorned with pearls worn at the place where bangs should be, although that has been around since the 1870s as well.

Source here

Ca. late 1890s. Some women wearing the pearl headband. 

Around 1905 the bangs began to grow in length but still weren’t long enough to cover the eyebrows. They were longer at the sides and shorter in the middle, creating this volume and curve at the forehead.

Source here

Photograph ca. 1905. Long bangs.

By the end of the decade these evolved into a being with a will of its own. Long hair tied into braids or low buns became fashionable instead of tight, high buns.

Source here

Calendar painting from 1911.

Fashionable women in the 1890s wore little to no makeup, because of the influence of female university students who were usually without makeup. In the 1870s and 80s, thick makeup was more common and was a trend popularized by sex workers in Shanghai, thus becoming increasingly considered indecent in the 1890s. I find this quite problematic cause respectability politics suck and there’s nothing wrong with wearing fashion trends invented by sex workers. All the straight male writers of the 1890s and 1900s praising female students for being “pure” and ”hygienic” in contrast to the supposedly nasty sex workers make me cringe to my core, it’s just pitting women against each other and setting us up for “I’m not like other girls” in my opinion.

The common makeup look includes white power, lipstick and blush. The lipstick shape was usually a tad smaller to the actual lips and blush was applied in large areas toward the outside of the face.

Source here

Standard 1890s and 1900s hair and makeup look. This drawing is probably from around 1902, it’s a bit more festive folk art than fashion plate so take the patterns with a dash of salt.

Undergarments

Unfortunately I don’t have many pictures for undergarments of the era but I can describe them to you. Since women commonly wore pants, they would usually wear another layer of pants (could be considered drawers) underneath that was of a similar construction but plain and easy to launder. Panties and such didn’t exist so drawers were the innermost layer, enough to protect women’s private parts. Likewise for the robe, another plainer, sturdier version would be worn underneath. In the mid 1900s, as the sleeves of the outer robe began to shorten, the undershirt became more form fitting at the wrists and could serve a decorative function. 

Chinese women in the 19th century bound their breasts with long strips of fabric to achieve the flat look. I’m not exactly sure how this is done but basically you wrap fabric tightly around your chest until the boobies are concealed. A famous undergarment of the Qing Dynasty was the 肚兜 dudou, which was actually unisex. The female only version was called 抹胸 moxiong, 袜肚 wadu or 袜腹 wafu, the latter two are etymologically similar to earlier words for “corset” or “a pair of bodies”. However, unlike what many later 20th century artists would like you to believe, wearing only dudou on the upper body was not legit underwear for grown up women, as it was usually worn in conjunction with breast binders as an extra layer of warmth. It was also worn very tightly around the breasts and waist, not tied loosely like in paintings or period dramas nowadays.

Source here

Dudou diagram.

Shoes

Women began campaigning against bound feet in this period and many drawings depicted women with natural feet. However, if a woman had her feet bound since childhood it’s difficult for them to return to their natural size, so some women who were born in previous decades would still have very small feet, even if they began to reject it at this time. Women’s shoes of Western construction weren’t yet so common so most women wore Chinese style shoes, which were commonly made of fabric and had a slightly upward pointing toe. Women with bound feet would use a long piece of ribbon/cloth to wrap their feet (to maintain the shape) and wear small fabric pumps with a white sole. These could be flat or have a teeny tiny bit of wedge heel, called 弓鞋 gong xie, bow shoes. Women without bound feet would wear normal sized pumps, likewise of fabric, with slightly upward pointing toes and a thick white sole. Embroidery on shoes was a huge thing in the 19th century and before but by the 1890s it started to disappear as well, and shoes in the 1890s were commonly plain. In the 1900s, Western leather shoes were increasingly popularized, but it wasn’t until the early 1910s that this popularity reached its height.

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Foot binding cloth.

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Shoes for bound feet.

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Woman with natural feet wearing Chinese style pumps. Western style knit stockings were becoming popularized in the 1880s for women with natural feet as well.

Some editing afterthoughts

I’ve been looking more into 18th and 19th century Chinese fashion lately and I realized I held some deep rooted misconceptions about the Qing Dynasty. For some reason I always considered the 1870s and 80s look with the elaborate, big robes conservative or backwards, which is really not fair. Chinese women’s fashion was revolutionized in the beginning of the 19th century, going from the flowy, slender robes of the 18th century to stiffer, more structured robes with flared sleeves. Styles also differed dramatically from decade to decade, it’s just not very well studied and there’s a stigma around Qing Dynasty fashion so people don’t get into it as much. Because Han women were allowed to continue wearing Han style clothing into the Qing Dynasty, a lot of 18th century reproduction ensembles nowadays get mistakenly labelled as Ming style hanfu, which really isn’t helping... I was definitely not alone in this though, the perception of Qing Dynasty Han women’s fashion most people nowadays have is: in the first couple years Han women were allowed to wear Ming style hanfu, but then bam the late 19th century look was forced upon everyone. This view is super not nuanced and false on almost every level, but it is extremely widespread and I don’t blame you at all if you also think like this, this was me just two months ago too... A wise woman (I mean Karolina Zebrowska) once said that everything in fashion history happens gradually, which is also extremely true for Chinese fashion history. 

I’ve really started to question what modernity in fashion means because the elaborate 19th century Chinese look that white people back then considered the epitome of conservative Chinese clothing was actually new and exciting in the beginning of the 19th century. I can’t help but wonder if this view that Chinese clothing as of the 1870s and 80s was symbolic of Chinese culture’s “backwardness” and “stagnation” was a product of colonization and white imperialists’ efforts to demonize Chinese society and take things out of context. I would prefer to say that Chinese fashion westernized a lot during the 1890s and 1900s but not necessarily modernized because what is modernity. Fashions change and that is the most normal thing on the planet. 

If you read what white historians or politicians wrote in the late 19th/early 20th century about Chinese fashion or culture (which I highly recommend you don’t, that shit is detrimental to your mental health), it becomes obvious that the majority of them have no clue what Chinese fashion looked like before the 19th century and how we got to what we had in the 19th century in the first place, so they just assumed that Chinese fashion always looked like that and that we haven’t progressed as a culture in hundreds of years lmao. Bullshit pseudo-Darwinism at its finest. Oh or if you look up 18th century European Orientalist paintings depicting imaginary Chinese characters, the clothes they wore and the hairstyles they had were so far off from what actual 18th century Chinese fashion looked like to the point they felt racist and were uncomfortable to look at. I stumbled across so many of them when looking for 18th century Chinese painting and every time I see one it almost gives me a stroke. So I think it’s really important to acknowledge that Han Chinese fashion of the 18th century is a valid field of study.

In my original 1890s post I said that the elaborate embroidery and trimmings started to appear on Han women’s fashion around this time because of Manchu influence, I take that back because I’ve realized it’s a whack claim. I’ll explain it more when I make some posts on the 19th century later.

Reworked part 2 is coming soon as well :)))

[sheirukitriesfandom]

Hi all,

After being inspired by @littlegalerion‘s rant about the College and her ideas for a rewrite, I’ve decided to try my hand at a rewrite myself. Some of Littlegalerion’s ideas have found their way into my rewrite as well because they are just that good. Many thanks for letting me use them. Warning: this is a very long post and it does contain spoilers for the original questline.

For this alternate questline the original situation remains the same (Savos is archmage, Mirabelle master-wizard and Ancano remains a thalmor), however, there are way more "trivial" quests early on. 

For example, before the first lesson with Tolfdir, the DB has to recover his alembic (Tolfdir just can't live without the damn thing idk). Then the lesson goes as planned, but the DB isn't yet sent to Saarthal. Instead, they're approached by Onmund for his personal quest.The DB doesn't have to complete it for the next lesson to start (thinking of a 12 or 24 hour cooldown), but due to the cool down why wouldn't they? 

This pattern repeats for each of the magic schools, each requiring a quest for the professors (Missing apprentices for Phinis, Bullying Nirya for Faralda ir getting the two to end their feud, etc.). After the destruction and illusion lessons, the player is approached by J'zargo and Brelyna for their quests. Each lesson also advances the respective skill. Once the lessons are done, the students are invited to Saarthal where the quest proceeds as usual except that Quaranir doesn't appear. So the DB discovers the eye, informs Savos and is sent to retrieve the books.

For this quest, the DB is joined by Ancano, who claims to be interested in the Caller's studies (it's hinted that he's after the books too). Once the DB returns to the college, time stops and a psijic appears saying that by removing the eye a chain of events has been set in motion and that the eye mustn't be used by anyone and that they should seek out the Augur. The DB returns the books to Urag. Also, the DB gets a dialogue option to ask ALL staff about the psijics AND/OR the Augur, with answers ranging from "I don't know" to the answers we get in game and maybe some explanation of the psijic order as keepers of dangerous magical relics. When it comes to the Augur most people will also mention that the archmage made it clear that the subject isn't to be talked about. 

Tolfdir will still be the one to direct the player to the Augur.The player speaks to the Augur, who reveals that Ancano also sought information about the Eye and that the Staff of Magnus is needed. Once the DB returns to inform Savos they're stopped by Ancano, who has been watching the DB and knows they've spoken to the Augur. Ancano is suspicious of the DB and reminds them that he'll be watching them closely. The DB then proceeds to inform Savos, but is stopped by Mirabelle coming from the archmage's quarters. She says the archmage is deeply immersed in his research and doesn't want to be bothered. Here, a speech check or a small distraction courtesy of your J'zargo will allow the player to pass. 

Savos isn't just reluctant like he is in the game, he's in outright denial about the staff being important. However, with enough speech checks Savos eventually reveals that the Synod were asking for it. Should those speech checks not be passed, the player will have to ask around. In that case, Mirabelle will inform them eventually. 

The expedition to Mzulft is left entirely unchanged.Upon returning from Mzulft the entrance to the Hall of the Elements is blocked by a ward, with Mirabelle and Tolfdir frantically discussing how to break through, all the while a very indignant Ancano demands to know what's going on. 

As it turns out, Savos shut himself inside the hall trying to "do something" to the orb.Tolfdir and Mirabelle then attack the barrier asking the DB to help them.The spell needed to take down the barrier would also be at least adept level. 

Together, Tolfdir, Mirabelle, the DB and Ancano storm into the hall. Mirabelle approaches Savos, asking him why, after all those years, he would betray the college and his friends like that, pleading him to stop. Savos' response doesn't make much sense. Something about it being necessary, about correcting a mistake.He asks Mirabelle to leave him be, desperation clearly audible in his voice, but when she refuses he attacks her and the explosion happens. And so, Savos ends up killing his loyal friend and master-wizard. Tolfdir needs a moment to recover and tells the DB to look for Ancano. 

Eventually, they find Ancano outside reporting the events to the rest of the faculty until he's interrupted by a Winterhold guard storming into the courtyard while yelling about the town being attacked by magic anomalies.

Quickly, Faralda takes the sceptre into her own hands, instructing the teachers to contain the barrier as she and the apprentices head for the town. The DB gets the objective to help them, but is stopped by Ancano, who reveals the information he got from the Augur: the eye may be capable of rewriting or even unmaking reality. He sees the eye in the hands of the archmage as a threat, so Savos needs to be stopped. 

The DB helps their fellow apprentices fight back the anomalies. When they're done, they're joined by Ancano. Once the DB mentions Labyrinthian Ancano reveals that Aren kept something in his chambers of that he was very protective, almost obsessively so, and that it may well be linked to Labyrinthian seeing as it used to be a training ground for future archmages.

The DB is tasked with investigating the archmage's quarters. There, the extend of Savos' planning, his research into the eye and his growing paranoia regarding the DB become clear. Eventually, the DB recovers the torc of Labyrinthian and heads off. 

Back in town the apprentices ask to join the DB on that dangerous journey. At this point, the DB can choose to take Onmund, J'zargo or Brelyna to Labyrinthian or go alone/with a non-questline companion. 

Labyrinthian remains the same story wise, but the dungeon itself contains way more wards and magical traps, requiring the DB to use a decent amount of spells. Oh, and no Estormo, sorry.

When the DB returns to Winterhold, the barrier has enveloped the entire college. The faculty have gathered outside, along with the remaining students and an injured Ancano, whom Colette is taking care of. Tolfdir, having recovered, explains that they were not strong enough to contain the barrier any longer. He is then interrupted by Faralda asking whether you have the staff.

Upon confirmation, the DB begins to dismantle the barrier layer by layer using the staff of Magnus, being thrown back every so often. With each destroyed layer, the DB receives a “vision”, a fragment of Savos' mind, though twisted and erratic.Those “visions” fill in the missing gaps: He was trying to undo his mistake in Labyrinthian by using the eye's reality bending powers. When the DB finally destroys the last ward the last vision is just an amalgamation of various ways to say sorry, a last cry for forgiveness. 

At this point, Savos is too far gone, having been consumed by the power of the eye. The DB and friends fight against Savos, with him using summons, locking allies in wards or frenzying them, etc. A real wizard battle ensues. At the end of it all Savos lies on the floor, broken and dying. When the DB approaches him, a dialogue begins. In a final moment of clarity Savos realizes what he has done. He resigns himself to death, knowing that he tore down all he sought to build, just because instead of trying to move forward, he wanted to redo the past. In his final moments he asks the DB if Morokei was defeated, if Hafnar and Atmah are free. The DB gets the option to either give him some closure or let him die without it.

Savos dies.

Just as the hall begins to fill with students and teachers, time freezes and Quaranir appears again, voicing his disappointment at the eye being misused, but also relief to see it put back into "sleep mode". In this state, it can be moved safely to Artaeum. Quaranir recovers the eye and time continues. The faculty are shocked by the events, there's chatter about the future of the college.

Eventually, Tolfdir speaks up and suggests a vote for the post of archmage, which the DB, having helped all teachers and apprentices as well as having ended the threat to the college, wins. Ancano approaches the DB, telling them in his usual "I'm-better-than-you" way that he's impressed the DB was able to save the college, and that he, at first, actually suspected they’d misuse the eye. As thalmor advisor to the college, he'll of course be at the new archmage's service, though if pressed with a speech check, it becomes apparent that Ancano isn't as sure about his position anymore and that he doesn't know how the order will react to the part he played in saving the college.

The end.

A common complaint is that Ancano is a villain without a motivation who only serves to hammer the point home that yes, the Thalmor are bad. 

So I thought: what if Ancano's and Savos' places were switched? 

That way you could have Ancano as a nuanced portrayal of a Thalmor helping the player to save his own hide and preventing a disaster that could've affected the Thalmor as well. Yes, the Thalmor actually want to unmake the world, but would a common agent know that too? That, frankly, seems like information for the higher ups only, especially since it's hard to come by even outside the games. Actually, not being forward with that would help them safe face with the Empire as well as the Bosmer and Khajiit. Also, why would Ancano even know that in the original game? Everything we know about him (being posted at the end of the world with nobody taking him seriously; him not appearing at the  Embassy, when someone like Ondolemar does) suggests that he may not be as high up the command chain as he thinks he is.

Anyway, I think it would be ironic if Ancano ended up stopping the very thing his order wants to accomplish.

As for Savos, I think this way he would play a greater role in the narrative and actually have some connection to the Eye in a way that his death by it makes sense. 

Savos' greatest flaw, in my opinion, is not apathy -that's the symptom- but a crippling fear of repeating his mistakes; the last time he was an active leader (excluding the prima guide here) 5 of his friends were killed because of him. 

Now that the Eye of Magnus is found, a design Savos would probably recognize from the staff, I think he would enter panic mode as it all threatens to come out. He, before all others, would know it's linked to the staff, so he'd know where to start his research and could come to conclusions about the Eye's metaphysical nature in a way that's more believable than "Idk I just shot lightning at it". It also adds a layer of tragedy to Savos' backstory; by trying to undo his greatest mistake, he ends up killing his most loyal follower, Mirabelle Ervine, thus repeating the cycle. 

It also solves the leadership problem in a less transparent way. I think it would also fit thematically with the other leaders. All of them have motivations, except Savos, his motivation is … well, what is it? Mercer wants to enrich himself while hiding his crimes, Astrid clings to her power, Kodlak wants to change his future, and now, Savos' motivation is changing his past.

[riversofmars]

May I propose..River and Missy stumbling upon 13 and immediately both go to flirting w her

My lovely anon, I deeply apologise for how long it has taken me to do this. And I have to confess, this is only part one, it has turned out so long that I’m having to post it in two parts! Plus I’m not quite done with the ending and if I hadn’t split it up, it would have been another couple of days lol.

Anyway, I really hope you like this. As promised, probably not what you expected but I got slightly obsessed with the idea of doing a cyberpunk inspired piece so here you are! Read on AO3 or below :)

At The End Of The Universe

The Doctor locked up the TARDIS, just to be safe. At the end of time, one did not want to get stuck or have one’s means of escape stolen. She had often wondered what it actually was like. The very last day of the universe. She had visited once before, watching from Me’s reality bubble. Me had been watching the stars die and she had called it beautiful and the Doctor had found it sad. Me had insisted that it was both and that that wasn’t something the Doctor could ever understand… She had been right. The people around her always seem to know her better than she knew herself.

Now, she certainly couldn’t find any beauty in this place and, yet she was fascinated. This was it, the last straw, where the last people in the universe had gathered. Admittedly, she wasn't actually sure that was entirely true but these people seemed to think they were so who was she to argue? She was too exhausted to argue and at the end of everything, no-one had time to waste on such technicalities. In approximately twelves hours, death was coming for them all and there was nowhere to run.

The Doctor looked around, taking in the atmosphere. It was getting cold, probably because the nearby star was already dying. There was very little natural light now, not that it would have reached the ground through the thick smog anyway. The only light down here was from the garish neon advertisements and signs.

“I bet this has always been an awful place…“ The Doctor started saying but stopped herself. She was alone. There was no-one to talk to on this particular trip. Ryan, Yaz and Graham were still on Earth. They didn’t even know she had made it off Gallifrey in one piece, or that she had ended up in prison shortly after… And after her escape, she had felt no great need to seek them out. Not yet anyway. Her path had lead her here instead. To the end of the universe, with no companions to talk to, no-one to share the experience with. It was probably better that way, this wasn’t a trip she wanted to be sharing with anyone.

She looked around some more and decided, yes, this really must have been an awful place all along. The sort of world where only the rich and powerful flourish and everyone else cowers in the sewers. The sort of place where law and morality would break down in no time at all as the end of days drew near. The sort of place where people would want to see the universe out in delirium. And people around here have already started. They were singing in the streets, shouting, dancing, laughing, some people are crying whether with it was laughter or hysterical fear.

Those that didn’t have a time machine to escape crunch time were each facing up to the inevitable in their own way. They are incredibly brave, the Doctor thought, braver than she had ever been. She would be frantically searching for a way out and try to run away, she couldn’t deny that. She was so tired of running but she just couldn’t stop. She wished she could just stand still and face what was up ahead, head held high, just for once. But it was like a compulsion, she just had to keep going. It was always just one more adventure… maybe the next one will be the one. Maybe that would be the one that would finally give her some answers. Or closure. Or even some sort of happiness or contentment. Something, anything, to satisfy that urge to keep going. Sometimes, she forgot what she was searching for. She had been going for so long now. What purpose did this particular trip serve? By this point it was probably just to make sense of things. Of herself. Her own existence. Her life. The things that had been done to her. And the things that happened because of her. And to try and forget about them.

She could still see it. Every time she closed her eyes, she was right back in the ruins of Gallifrey. She would feel the burning heat from the flames. She would get a burning in her chest from the smoke. Her eyes would be burning from the dust. Gallifrey was burning her from the inside still. Her memories were eating at her, burning all the walls she’d built to protect myself, the structures that held her up and kept her going. She had no idea how to stop this wildfire. Maybe on her next trip, she’d find a way but now, she was here. At the edge of the universe, at the end of everything. This was not the place where she’d find her answers but maybe she could fight fire with fire for a time. Maybe she could gain a reprieve before the flames engulfed her.

She started to make her way down the street. The music was coming from somewhere up ahead. The bass was so deep, the vibrations were making her shake. She could smell alcohol now, the streets were literally drenched in it, this party had been going on for days. It wasn't just alcohol, there were chemicals, drugs, sweat, vomit, sex… At the end of everything, society, morals, inhibitions, right and wrong, disintegrated right before your eyes. There was no need for such human constructs now. Everyone here was going to die in twelve hours, the Doctor could see why they’d rather be enjoying themselves. The biggest, baddest party of the universe. The last party. On the last planet. In the last hours. No-one could charge and judge you now. What better place to drown one’s sorrows, get perspective and forget for a time?

“Alright lovely? Can we interest you in a good time?“ A young man yelled to her from across the street. There was a group of them, young people who still had so much of their life ahead of them, cut tragically short. Under normal circumstances, the Doctor, or anyone else for that matter, would have kept going, but the Doctor stepped closer.

“What’s your poison?“ She asked, eying the selection of drinks and other substances spread out over the hood of a burned out vehicle.

“By this point, does it really matter?“ One of the lads laughed taking a gulp from a half empty bottle of clear liquid.

“Suppose not.“ The Doctor chuckled and picked up a bottle she at least recognised the brand name of and took a swing. The alcohol burnt her throat. It was pure and disgusting but it was just what she needed. “Mind if I take this?“ She gave the bottle a little shake to indicate what she was talking about. Her question got swallowed up in the deafening noise of an explosion barely a block away. Some people probably got bored of waiting for the end. The Doctor took another swing from the bottle as her eyes fell on some colourful tablets. She picked up a couple, red and blue, turned them between her fingers as if they were smarties. “The red pill or the blue pill…“ She looked up to the group laughing to herself a little. “This would be funny and poignant if The Matrix was still a thing at the end of the universe…“

“You’re not even scared, are you.“ One of the boys grinned, clearly impressed, he stumbled a little, struggling to keep himself upright as he leant forward onto the hood of the vehicle.

“Scared of what?“ The Doctor raised her eyebrows without looking at him. She focused on the pills in her hand. What was the worst that could happen? These people weren’t trying to kill themselves, they were trying to have a good time so this was probably perfectly safe… and if it wasn’t?

“You know… the end. And doing drugs with people you’ve never met before.“ He grinned.

“I’m just here to have a good time.“ She shrugged as she threw both tablets into her mouth like candy and washed them down.

“I can show you a good time.“ He reached out to cup her cheek but misjudged the distance, reaching into nothingness. His friends laughed.

“Maybe later.“ The Doctor chuckled with a wink.

“Don’t keep me waiting all night, it’s not long now.“ He retorted trying his best to hide his disappointment.

“Thanks for this.“ She downed the rest of the bottle as the others cheered her finishing it. She placed the empty bottle back on the make shift table and waved goodbye to them. She only vaguely took notice of the sound of breaking glass as the youngsters smashed her empty bottle just because they could.

She followed the sound of the music as she made her way along the crowded streets, people bumped into her, unaware of their surroundings, in a drug induced haze. The Doctor was beginning to feel the effects herself. Her hearts picked up speed, she felt an indescribable rush, as her brain flooded with dopamine. The colours seemed more vivid, her skin tingled, as if she was seeing, experiencing more than ever before. Some remaining rational part of her brain insisted that these feelings weren’t real, that it was an illusion and that she would pay a price when they wore off but for now, she couldn’t care less.

She followed the sound of the music, the bass running trough her as she descended stairs to a make shift nightclub. It really just looked like a massive warehouse but people were dancing and drinking, jerking to the music, partying to their heart’s content. The Doctor steadied herself against the wall, feeling the effects of the drugs, allowing her senses to be flooded. She smiled to herself, her heart felt lighter, as if a burden was being lifted and only the here and now mattered.

“Fancy seeing you here, Professor Song.“ Missy called over the loud music as she swirled a glass of bourbon. Even at the end of the universe, she insisted on some modicum of class as she watched River Song emerging from the flurry of dancing bodies. She felt a tingle in her hand as regenerative energy started oozing out of her fingertips and she balled her fist, forcing the process to a halt, yet again. She wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to keep it at bay but she intended to have a good time before giving in to inevitable. She pushed her hand into her pocket, hoping River hadn’t noticed as she returned her attention to her.

River wiped her brow, her tank top was sticking to her with sweat but she didn’t care, she was enjoying herself. She recognised Missy immediately, leaning against the counter set up along the side of the massive underground warehouse. She couldn’t help but smirk. Of course, of all the people she could possibly encounter at the end of the universe, it was the Master. Lightheaded and thirsty, her ears ringing with the sheer volume of the music, she made her way over to her.

“Well, this is the biggest party in the known universe.“ River winked at her as she came to a halt next to her and reached behind the makeshift bar. It astounded her that some people had actually gone through the trouble of providing these comforts, wasting what precious time they had left on setting up a bar. The counter top was covered in dirty glasses and half empty bottles, she decided it was safer to go for what was behind the bar instead. She couldn’t really expect anyone to bar tend at this point.

“Without the husband, I see?“ Missy raised her eyebrows.

“We’re not joined at the hip. We are modern like that.“ River retorted retrieving a bottle of whisky.

“Allow me.“ Missy offered her one of the few clean-ish glasses she had been able to find. “We don’t have to behave like animals, Timeladies such as ourselves.“

“I could’t agree more.“ River took the glass offered to her and poured a drink for herself. “So what brings you here?“ She eyed her over the rim of her glass as she took a sip.

“Where else would I go to kick back and soak up the atmosphere?“ Missy smirked as she looked around the makeshift nightclub, illuminated only by strobe lighting and neon.

She neglected to mention the fact that she was dying and wanted to enjoy one last night of chaos in this body. She had grown rather fond of this lady version. The annoying thing was that she didn’t even remember who or what had killed her. It was such a blur. The last thing she remembered was the Doctor wanting her to play a stupid game and for her to save some people, prove that she could be good. And now here she was without the Doctor and dying. He was bound to be responsible. Which was a real shame as she had actually enjoyed spending time with her childhood friend again… all this effort for nothing. All she remembered was lying in the middle of a forrest, her body starting to fizz with generation energy when she had almost believed it wouldn’t happen this time around. It brought her back from the brink of death and she had halted the process, keeping it at bay by sheer force of will. She wasn’t done being Miss just yet. One more adventure…

She pulled herself out of her thoughts and looked back at River. “I mean, just look around. The confusion, the chaos, the imminent death… isn't it exhilarating? You can smell the fear and the desperation on them…“ She grinned as she took a sip. “How about you?“

“I think I just saw my husband for the last time.“ River retorted, keeping her emotions out of her voice. She was determined not to overthink it too much. She had come here to lose herself in the here and now and stop her mind going in endless circles. She took a gulp of her drink, though it didn’t do much to quench her thirst from dancing.

“Is that so? What happened? Did you actually kill him at last fighting over the remote control in domestic bliss?“ Missy raised her eyebrows in amusement. She knew the last time the Doctor had been with his wife was enjoying domestic bliss on Darillium. That had been in the Doctor’s past when she had last been with him but apparently for River, that time had only just come to an end.

“Oh, he’s quite alive as far as I know. Sorry to disappoint.“ River chuckled. “But by some accounts that was the last night we spent together… who knows, we’ll see. Either way, I needed a distraction.“

“You know, I think you and I could have a great time together.“ Missy smirked leaning in closer. What was the harm really? It wasn’t like there would be any witnesses and there was a certain appeal in seducing her arch nemesis’s wife.

“Is that so.“ River took another sip of her drink.

“Absolutely.“ Missy twirled her fingers into River’s curls.

“Two psychopaths, that would not end well.“ River was drunk but not that drunk. Jumping into bed with the Master was a bad idea and she knew it. “Better not…“ She looked around the room and noticed a petite blonde making her way down the stairs into the club. She steadied herself against the wall, clearly intoxicated, but so was everyone else in this place. River instantly liked the look of her and she was probably a far safer bet than Missy. “You have yourself a good night.“ River downed the rest of her drink and placed the glass back on the counter before turning to leave.

“Oh, I see.“ Missy raised her eyebrows following River’s gaze. Most people in this place had turned into mindless junkies with poor body hygiene over the last few days, so the blonde stood out immediately. She was a pretty one too, innocent, soft features, she probably didn’t even know what she was doing here.

“Enjoy the end of the universe, I know I will.“ River shot Missy a grin over her shoulder as she headed straight for the new arrival. “Hello, lovely, looking for something in particular? Or someone?“ She stepped into her path, demanding her attention. The blonde jumped, clearly startled, she looked up at River with big eyes, struggling for a response.

“How original.“ Missy huffed at River and pushed past her, deciding there was no reason why she should just let River have her. “Are you lost, dear? Need someone to show you around?“

“Go away now.“ River gave Missy’s shoulder a shove.

“We could always, you know, share?“ Missy winked at River who rolled her eyes.

“I saw her first.“ River shot back, squabbling with Missy until the blonde finally found her voice.

“Of course, why the fuck not.“ The Doctor started giggling to herself looking in between the two women in front of her. Of course her brain would do this to her. Why not. The woman that betrayed her and the woman she had abandoned. Her brain was so cruel. She thought the drugs were meant to make her feel good, not give shape to her emotional trauma. “I haven’t got time for this…“ She walked past River and Missy who exchanged confused looks.

“Have we met?“ River asked catching up with her.

“That’s a great pick up line.“ Missy huffed sarcastically. “What better thing could you possibly have to do at the end of the universe?“ She stepped into the Doctor’s way, obviously not recognising her.

“I just want to have a good time, not to talk to myself.“ The Doctor snapped over the sound of the music. She looked around, wondering what to do next.

“Talk to yourself?“ River frowned confused. The girl was probably not thinking straight, her pupils were dilated and she was unsteady on her feet.

“That’s what you are, right? Manifestations of my subconscious? Hallucinations? Shitty street corner drugs…“ The Doctor huffed.

“I can assure you, dear, I’m very real.“ River gave it another go but was getting the impression that this might be a lost cause.

“You can’t be real, River, both of you are dead.“ The Doctor shot back in annoyance. Why was she even arguing with her?

“What…“ River felt her stomach lurch, her hearts skipped a beat. How did this woman know her name? A chance encounter at the end of time… how was that possible? And she knew Missy, too? There was only one person, apart from the Master, who would be capable of coming here and who would know her name…

“What is this? A guilt trip?“ The Doctor laughed bitterly. “I’m trying to run away from my bullshit, not confront it.“ She shook her head and made her way behind the bar searching for a bottle of something strong. Missy and River looked at each other and followed slowly. Neither of them wanted to say it but they both thought the same thing. But how was that possible?

“Doctor…“ River said softly stepping closer. It was becoming painfully obvious. It was the only plausible explanation and the random selection of clothes should have been a giveaway. If this was the Doctor, she had to be from their future… far, far into their future. River had never seen this regeneration of her husband - well, wife? And by the look on Missy’s face, neither had she. The thought turned River’s stomach. What had happened to her? For her to turn up here, drunk, high, utterly out of her mind, clearly thinking she was hallucinating. How far into their future was she for both of them to be dead to her?

“Don’t. Don’t even.“ The Doctor laughed and shook her head to herself. “Don’t even say my name like that.“ She confirmed their suspicion as she picked up the bottle of whiskey River had just poured from.

“Doctor, get ourself together.“ Missy said sternly, she wouldn’t admit to it but she was just as unsettled as River appeared to be. What had been fun and games a minute ago, suddenly turned very serious. What was she doing here? When had he - she - regenerated again? The last time she had seen the Doctor he had been perfectly fine then. This Doctor, however, seemed utterly broken.

[fleckcmscott]

The Find

Summary: Arthur and Y/N tidy up their wardrobe. What he comes across surprises him.

Warnings: Smut, Swearing

Words: 3,664

A/N: This request comes from Karen - it’s the first one I ever got! Thanks to @sweet-nothings04​ for beta-ing and helping me improve this piece by sharing her thoughts!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

If you’ve sent me a request and I haven’t responded, it’s because I am working on it and will answer once it’s posted!

Instead of allowing a lazy Sunday, Y/N decided they needed to do a project together. She had too many clothes, she claimed. And Arthur could use some new ones. Though he disagreed with her assertion, never having owned much, he went along with it. Such suggestions were part of having a girlfriend, he'd learned. Sorting through the bedroom closet would be a couply activity, anyway.

It turned out to be nice, better than when he'd kept house alone. Her smile was infectious as they rearranged everything, and it grew each time they inadvertently bumped into each other. He succeeded in talking her out of donating a sheer blouse, insisting it looked good on her. She replaced the dry cleaner bags on his Carnival costume with zippered nylon ones. Then she retrieved a wooden box from the top shelf, sat on the edge of the bed, and patted the spot next to her.

Floral patterns were carved in its top and sides, and the center held a purple and yellow pansy, pressed under smooth glass. It was quite old, the corners worn, the front closure tarnished. The hinges released a quiet squeak as she lifted the lid. "These are my most important keepsakes," she said. Her degree was in there, the Christmas ornament her sister had made, and her divorce papers. The rose he'd brought when he'd come for dinner was now dried and delicate. And she'd held onto the cork from their first bottle of wine. The letter he'd written her after Murray was sealed in a clasp envelope to protect it.

Arthur's chest swelled. The small container resting on her lap was something she'd had long before they'd met, perhaps since she was a kid. It was astonishing he took up so much space in it. Maybe she'd like to keep one of the payment slips for the ring he was planning to give her. (They were currently tucked safely in his journal.) He wrapped an arm around her back and squeezed her to his side.

The bleating of the phone interrupted them, right when he was planting a kiss to her shoulder. "Wait for me," Y/N said. "I'll tell them to call back later." He watched as she left the room, admiring the slight swivel of her hips. After a minute, "Mabel, what's going on?" drifted in from the kitchen. Ah, her sister. That would take a while. Sighing, he stood and continued alone, hopping on the step stool and humming as he went.

The shelf was dusty. The old law books were likely from when she went to college. He flipped through a photo album and set it aside to go through with her later. In the back corner, there was a red, paper gift bag, its top neatly folded closed. When he retrieved it, the weight surprised him, and he studied it with a curious expression. She probably wouldn't be perturbed if he opened it - she'd shown him her mementos, after all. Gingerly, he took a peek.

A carton was in there, a foot long. Pictures of women in athletic gear were on the side. They were holding a white object to their elbow, their calf, their lower back. He read the sentences on the packaging carefully. "Helps relax muscles." "Relieves tension." "Soothing vibrations."

Oh. Oh. Arthur crumpled the top of the bag quickly as he giggled, his cheeks on fire.

On her radio show, Dr. Sally had said the massaging wand was revolutionary. That it helped educate women about their own bodies, learn what they liked. Y/N hadn't mentioned owning one. It would have troubled him a few months ago. His insecurities would have told him it meant he wasn't very good. That he wasn't enough for her and never would be. But because of his ongoing treatment and comfort with her, those concerns were minor today. And he was intrigued.

The women he'd pasted into his journal were often touching themselves, ecstasy clear on their faces. Even though he still found those pictures arousing, he wasn't stupid and knew they were staged. Experience had stripped away the illusion. But the thought of Y/N pleasuring herself made him shiver and lean against the closet's door frame. His mind filled with images of her sprawled on the bed, on the sofa, on the floor. The scenarios he'd pictured since they'd met were numerous. His mouth at the apex of her thighs while she tried to type papers for work. Her going down on him in the dressing room at Pogo's. Or his favorite, the one he'd gone back to most, joining with her completely as she fell apart, because of him and only him. If he asked, would she be willing to-

Upon hearing Y/N hang up, Arthur haphazardly tossed the bag back in its spot. He busied himself with the sweaters and shirts in the "keep" pile, folding and hanging them as needed. She started telling him about the call as soon as she came in. Caught between his natural bashfulness and the urge to blurt out what he found, listening was difficult.

She must have sensed something was off, because she stepped next to him and said, "You look warm."

He ducked away as she tried to feel his forehead. "I'm okay." That was only half true. It was going to take awhile for him to figure out how to express what he wanted. But he shot her a grin. "It's just a little hot in here, that's all."

~~~~~

Y/N's seamed stockings finally sent him over the edge three days later. He'd noticed them when she put on her heels at the door, and ogled her as she strode down the hallway after their longer-than-usual kiss goodbye. It was possible she simply wished to be pretty (which she always was, no matter what she had on), to be professional, to make herself feel good. Still. She knew those nylons turned him on, and he chose to believe she wore them for him.

He made a quick call to her at lunch and said he was looking forward to tonight. There was strain lurking beneath her kind tone when she asked, "Why? What's tonight?" Nothing, he clarified, rubbing the back of his neck. He just missed her. She sighed, told him her day had gone sideways, that she needed to go. But she couldn't wait to see him later and loved him.

Both to relieve his own nerves and to cheer her, he resolved to make everything perfect for her to come home to. That's why, rather than cooking together, he was stirring minestrone and adding pasta. Why he'd already set the table and put the bunch of pink carnations (her favorite) from the grocery store in the middle. Why the wine was open and ready to serve. The kitchen radio had been switched to the sixties and seventies music she preferred. He swayed along to it, even as he hoped one or two slower songs would play so they could dance.

He'd been trying to find the right way to broach the subject all afternoon. Stuttering through his request wasn't his preference. It'd be fun to be playful - if he could gather his courage. God, it would be absurd if he couldn't. Shouldn’t courage come naturally if he hoped to spend the rest of his life with this woman? "Y/N, I was wondering if you could-" Cocking his head, he tried anew. "I love you, Y/N, and I wanted to know if-" Rolling his eyes, he retrieved bowls from the cupboard. "It's your fault I can't think straight." He took a breath, stretched his arms, and tried to focus. Nothing felt right. He'd have to improvise.

The unlocking of the door and the thudding of her bag to the floor alerted him to her presence. He laughed lightly as he tested the soup, enjoying the thrill of anticipation. She approached in his peripheral vision. "Arthur, you didn't have to do all this," she murmured.

The gladness in her words made it worth the effort. He poured a glass of wine for them both. "You were having a busy day."

She took a sip and braced herself on the counter. "I had to run back and forth from the office to the courthouse. We were missing copies of motions for tomorrow's hearing. My typewriter's ribbon ran out and we didn't have any replacements." A puff escaped her before she turned to him. "But every thing’s lovely now. Come here.” She pulled him in for a kiss.

Arthur tried to pay attention while they ate; he disliked missing a moment of her. But she was already driving him to distraction. The way her lips pursed as she blew on the food before taking a bite. Her caresses to the petals of the flowers. How she kept touching his sleeve. When she untied the bow at the collar of her burgundy blouse, opened the neck to reveal the start of her clavicle, his stomach flipped. "I wanted to- to ask you a question," he said softly.

"I knew something was going on." She dabbed her mouth with her napkin. "You haven't said much besides 'yeah' and 'mhm.'"

Damn. He'd tried to be normal. "Sorry." A sheepish smile crossed his face and he smoothed back his hair. "I'm a little nervous."

"You don't have to be." There was excitement in her voice, barely contained, and she scooted her chair closer. "I'm sure I'll say yes."

He quirked a brow at her. "Um, okay." A sharp exhale as he sat straighter. "I've been thinking about this a lot." His gaze darted to hers, seeing it sparkling and filled with affection, before falling to his lap. He fiddled with his spoon as he forced himself to speak. "I found something. When we were cleaning."

A pause. "What did you find?"

The wine was sharp on his tongue when he sipped it. "The massaging wand?"

The blush on her cheeks traveled to the rest of her face and she hid behind her palm. "Oh my god," she laughed.

Having the advantage wasn't usual for him in these situations. It was refreshing. Luckily, she didn't seem upset, so he continued. "Dr. Sally recommended it on her show. You're beautiful. We both might like it. I mean, I know I would, but... Would you show me?" Her quiet nagged at him, so he changed his approach. "You turn on the light every time we make love," he teased. "Don't you remember when you came home and surprised me?"

She peeked at him, the corner of her lip lifted. "It's never even occurred to me. I can't believe it occurred to you." After a few moments, she cleared her throat. "I won't lie - it's...an arousing idea. And all this," she gestured at the table as she spoke, "has made me pretty hot and bothered." Her hand went to his inner thigh, fiddling with the seam. "Though I have to admit, I was expecting you to ask something else."

His eyelids fluttered at her caress. "What?"

Grasping the tie at the front of his pants, she finished her drink. "Never mind. I'm sure you'll ask me later."

~~~~

This was happening. It wasn't his imagination. Y/N was taking a fantasy of his, one that belonged in dirty magazines, and turning it into a demonstration of her love for him. Was it weird to be moved by something this lewd? He should be ashamed to have asked her. But he wasn't. And when he felt her smile as they lay in bed, his throat tightened. Their breaths were harsh as the pearlescent buttons of her blouse opened halfway under his ministrations. A soft moan left her when he cupped her breast, tweaked its taut tip through her bra, and she yanked at his shirt until he pulled it off.

She ground against his clothed hard-on and hastily unzipped her black skirt to slip it down. He swallowed thickly, following her movements, huffing at the sight of her dark red garter belt and matching panties. It wasn't often she donned those, preferring more practical undergarments. Had she, by some means, known what he was thinking when she'd gotten dressed that morning? The notion was silly but warmed him anyway. Relieved, he groaned and reclaimed her lips.

The dance of her fingers across the lean muscles of his chest caused him to suck in air, which he held while she skimmed past his ribs to his stomach. "I haven't done this in front of anyone before," she said, a little uncertain.

Arthur chuckled, letting her take his hand and guide it between her thighs. "I hadn't, either." He pushed the cotton to the side and fondled her slit, reveling in how she bucked into his touch. It was almost enough to get him to forget the show, to forget about his plan, to sheathe himself inside her without a moment's pause.

But she grabbed the vibrator off the stand and switched it on. Its buzzing was louder than he'd presumed, like a hornet's nest. Amusement must have shown on his face, because Y/N smirked and turned the wand to a lower setting. "Remind me to plug the clock back in when we're done," she said, shedding her underwear and kicking it off her foot. He settled next to her hips, boosting himself on his elbow to see her. Shyly at first, then growing bolder, she swiped and pulled at her outer lips. They drew back as they swelled and she giggled, running the pads of her fingers over herself. "You're the only one who could persuade me to do this."

He grazed her inner thigh, the straps holding her stockings in place, and pressed a kiss to her leg, observing as she lay the massager's rounded end to her core. Even as her pelvis arched slightly to meet it, she kept it in one spot - he'd thought she would have moved it around. The heat flaring in his groin was, thankfully, lowering his inhibitions, and he found he could ask, without anxiety, "Did you do it a lot?"

"I did this more after we met." He laughed happily, realizing he'd been the cause of her increased desire. A whimper fell from her as she moved towards the vibrator again, her frame trembling. Her brows pinched with every increasing undulation of her hips. "It's been awhile. I'd forgotten-," she gasped, "-how intense this feels."

When she began writhing, he watched the sway of her breasts, straining against her bra. Her stomach was quivering with every shallow breath, and he felt his own ardor heighten with hers. He leaned forward to get a better look at her folds. But, upon finding the toy covered her completely, he furrowed his brow. And it registered that he didn't need a prop involved; he just needed her.

Gently, he caught it, waiting until she met his gaze to turn it off and put it on the bed. "You're enough," he said quietly. "If that's okay." She nodded lightly. One of her legs spread to the side, the other bent at the knee. He shuddered as she held herself open, fingers drifting over her sensitive nub. "Are you - Are you thinking about me?" Say yes. Please.

Her explorations went lower, tracing the edges of her entrance, open and waiting for him, then dipping below to gather slick on her fingertips. "Yes," she hissed, tapping her bud repeatedly. She jerked towards her hand as she bit her lip. It was enchanting, watching her play herself like a well-tuned instrument. She seemed to know exactly how to touch her own body. What pressure to apply. How fast to go...

Her breast spilled out when she pulled down the cup of her bra, her head falling back into the pillow. Her thumb teased her areola and she keened. "You're all the way inside me." Another tug to her pebbled nipple, and the hand at her vulva hastened. "Your cock feels so good, Arthur. You fill me so well."

"Y/N, god." He hadn't expected pornography to spill from her mouth. Groaning, he pushed his briefs away and gripped his erection, running his thumb along the tip as he glanced from her face to her center.

The glistening of her arousal was spreading, a spot forming on the blanket beneath her. Her cries were becoming frequent, her body tensing. Her eyes opened and went to his length. "Get in me."

That took him aback. "What?"

"Get in me. Please." He scrambled out of his underwear and knelt between her legs, positioning himself so her thighs rested on his, and he held the soft skin of her upper leg. After a couple of quick pumps, he sank into her entirely, grunting at the sight of her reddened, desperate sex welcoming him. She stroked herself, first pulling at the clitoral hood, then circling it, more frenzied with every rut.

This was far superior to any photograph, any adult film he may have caught a glimpse of. Because it was personal. She was devoted to him, and he to her. And she was repeating his name, the syllables strung together and becoming unintelligible. Soon she wailed sharply and stiffened, her pulses gripping his cock. "Fuck me harder," she whined.

His movements stilled. While he wanted to give in, he feared harming her - he was stronger than his skinniness suggested. But she begged for him again, and he couldn't resist pressing her wrists into the bed on either side of the pillow. Their kisses turned hard while she brought her trembling legs about him and he plunged into her. A wanton cry escaped with each inch she moved up the mattress, with every pound of his hips. The sear of her surrounding him was intoxicating, and he took her nipple in his mouth, laving and sucking at it. Her body grew rigid and bent into him and she moaned, her muscles clamping around him a second time.

Their intimacy had traversed the scale from slow to fast, loving to urgent. But Arthur had only been unrelenting with her once. Her enjoyment hadn't been a consideration; she’d been a means to an end that night. And the guilt he'd felt afterward had prompted him to promise himself to not be rough without her explicit permission. Seeing her trust in him in action, feeling it in the embrace of her body, pushed him forward to give into what they both craved.

He threw his head back and fucked her, up on his knees, slipping his grasp from her wrist to entwine her fingers. He held her neck and the side of her face as he mashed their lips together, losing himself in her as he increased the punishing pace of his thrusts. His motions stammered, seeking his climax, going deeper and deeper still.

With one final shove he came, emptying into her with each throb as they clung to each other. His brain was foggy with pleasure, breath ragged and panting. Vaguely, he was aware of her tight hold on his ass, as if she coveted every drop of him. As he came down from his high, the last tendrils of pleasure fading, he squeezed her hand. The kiss he gave her was tender, soft. A stark contrast from how they'd joined moments ago.

Y/N was giving him that dazed grin, the one she usually had after lovemaking. But he felt the need to check. "Did I hurt you?" Averting his eyes, he brushed his knuckles over her collarbone.

She pecked his nose and raked her nails through his hair, her look full of adoration. "You could never hurt me." A giggle bubbled up. "I do need a minute to recover, though." He stayed inside her while he softened, nestling in the crook of her neck. "I'm proud of you," she said.

His eyelids shut and a toothy grin appeared as his heart clenched. "Why?"

"You weren't afraid to ask me. Well, even if you were, you did it, anyway." Her arms wrapped about his torso and she palmed his back. "And you trusted yourself to let go."

He dragged his thumb along the faint stretch marks at her areola. While what she said was accurate, he usually liked it softer. During the periods in which his anger or despondency nearly consumed him, when he thought he might erupt, he was afraid he would lose the ability to be gentle. So far, her love and support had helped bring that tenderness back, even if it took a couple of days. He ached for that to continue. "You know, when I- when I see things that aren't there... I always say the right thing. I'm funny. I know how to do good." He took her hand and placed a kiss to the back of it. "But with you it's real."

Guiding him out and off her, she turned on her side. "Because that's who you are, Mr. Fleck. Don’t forget that. I won’t." She nuzzled his nose. "How else could you have broken through my shield enough to have this ridiculous pillow talk?" He chuckled as she tugged on a curl. "I lost that part of myself for a long time," she sighed. "I'd hate to lose it again."

"I won't let that happen." He pulled her closer, caressing the edge of her garter belt. "Especially if you keep wearing these," he said lowly.

Leaning forward, she pressed her breasts flush to him. "Let's be ridiculous until we're old and gray."

"Mhm." Tears prickled but he blinked them away, managing a wide smile. It was one of her hints that she wanted to be with him forever. He prayed she would accept his proposal next week. "Only if you promise to laugh at my jokes."

Y/N traced his jawline and kissed his dark brows, her gaze shining as she gave her response. "Arthur, I'll laugh with you for the rest of my life."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​ @howdylilflower​ @sweet-nothings04​ @stephieraptorr​ @rommies​ @fallenstarsabyss​ @gruffle1​ @octopus-plasma​ @tsukiakarinobara​, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​

[annes-andromeda]

Fanon Marvel cause they got I S S U E S

This isn’t really a fanfic thing, more or less what I envision the MCU would be in MY head. Granted not everyone’s gonna agree with these points, but that’s fine. Well all got our own opinions☺️

Q: Who survives the Snap in Fanon?

A: Steve, Thor, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Nebula, Gamora, Rhodey, Rocket, Scott, Okoye, Shuri, Pepper, Wong, Valkyrie, Loki, and Tony

Q: Will anyone be recast?

A: Yes. Monica Rambeau is Captain Marvel instead of Carol Danvers. Make of that as you will.

Q: Are there gonna be any major changes?

A: Not for the most part, as I haven’t watched all the Marvel movies. However, these would be the most prominent ones:

* T*ny Stark is an anti-villain. His story has been changed to mostly fit the Superior Iron Man storyline. The IM trilogy would stay the same since I haven’t seen them, as well as the first two Avengers movies. However, he gets his immediate change in Civil War, where we find out that he worked for HYDRA the whole time, and wanted the Avengers to sign the Accords so the organization didn’t get found out. I feel it would’ve been interesting if we had seen Tony turn from a man who pretended to help others survive, into a man who only ever did things to help himself survive. If you don’t like this change: well then suck it cause it’s my fanon🙃

* Steve and Thor are in a relationship. This is mostly a personal preference, but I genuinely think they’d be a good couple. Their feelings would begin to come out in AOU, after the party scene. The two have a drink, slow dance, and confess there feelings. Simple, but cute (I think). Steve would think of Thor in Civil War, while Thor would have a scene in Ragnarok, in which he calls Steve and gets his opinion on everything that has happened to him (Odins death, Hela, losing Mjolnir etc). In Infinity War, they reunite and share a big kiss Pirates of the Caribbean style. As for Endgame: Steve doesn’t go to the past (I.e fucking up the timeline and Peggy’s happy life) and Thor stays on New Asgard to rule as King, with his consort by his side.

* CA:CW- People like Rhodey and Natasha don’t just immediately agree to the Accords. Instead, they go undercover and try to find out what the government is actually doing; Peter is on Team Iron Man until he finds out that Tony is HYDRA. It sucks that M*rvel really out here just making Peter iron boy instead of... ya know... Spider-Man; Civil War has a scene where Steve reminisces on his mother (his real moral compass fight me) and we focus more on him and less on Tinkie’s man pain; Instead of Tony being upset that Bucky killed both of his parents, he’d only get upset about his mother, as he actually wanted his father dead. Got this idea from a post where basically a bunch of people were talking about how Tony was probably HYDRA the whole time, which is where I got the idea. Feel free to add anything else.

* IW: Loki and Gamora don’t die. I feel like they killed off Loki a little too early since he was just getting the arc he so desperately needed. While I don’t really know what to do with him yet, I do know that he’ll be in a relationship with Valkyrie. I mean, did you see their fight scene? The sexual tension. As for Gamora, well we all practically hated it when she died and hated it even more when they brought her 2014 counterpart back from the past. Someone on Quora said that an alternative for Thanos to sacrifice on Vormir could be Ebony Maw, as out of all of Thanos’s children, he worshipped him the most. Maybe Thanos would hesitate as this was his most loyal child, but he does it cause gotta wipe out half the universe or whatever. It wouldn’t be as tragic tho, but (1) that’s the price we gotta pay for Gamora to stay alive, and (2) are we reeeaaally supposed to pity Thanos? Thanos? The guy who only ever fell in love with Death???. Anyways back to Gamora: I actually wanna do something for her. If you’ve ever seen RWBY, one of the main characters essentially loses her arm when she tried to save her friend. I know it sounds cruel for Gamora to loose a limb, but hey, sometimes you just like seeing your fav characters suffer🤷‍♀️. I was thinking it could go two ways:

- (1): Gamora loses her arm like the character in RWBY i.e, saving one of her friends like Mantis, Quill, or Nebula.

- Or (2): Thanos uses the Reality Stone to make the Guardians + Peter and Strange think that they have the upper hand. Strange uses his magic to hold Thanos down while the others try taking off the Infinity gauntlet. Once the gauntlet is nearly loose, Quill would try to strike him, as Nebula realizes that the whole thing is an illusion. But before she could warn the others it’s too late, and Gamora looses an arm to her boyfriend, leaving him and everyone in complete shock. I like this option more, as it would show not only just how cruel Thanos is, but that he never really loved Gamora. He just favored her above all his other kids. And hey, I’m a sap for angst.

* Feel free to add anything else.

* EG: So in the first bullet, I already said which characters survive the snap and that Captain Marvel isn’t Carol, but Monica. Aside from that, I haven’t really thought much of what to do with Endgame. Surprisingly, it’s difficult to write a better story for this one. What I would most like to happen, however, is more character moments. Thor’s PTSD and traumas being taken more seriously, and instead of him gaining weight he loses it (cause according to Tinkie’s dumb rant that’s what gets an audience to take your turmoil seriously. Pls don’t hate me for this decision). Bruce doesn’t turn into Professor Hulk, and his traumas are actually talked about. Also he gets closure on his relationship with Natasha (I know it’s not that great but I personally like it). Clint dies instead of Nat and we remember that Nat was the leader of the Avengers for like five years. Steve properly mourns his friends and actually acts like Steve Rogers and not a fucking imposter. We actually see what happened in Wakanda after the Snap, with Okoye and Shuri at the head of it all. Also Pepper would be stand in for Tony, cause ya know, she has a life outside of him and is actually smart. And her and Scott help with the Time machine or what other plan I or anyone can come up with. Again, feel free to add anything else.

Q: Will there be any new characters added?

A: For now just one: A robot named Iris (aka Iron Blade), created by Tony for HYDRA. I’ve made a summary of her here:

* Iris is an android created by the billionaire Tony Stark, who possesses a synthetic body made of Tungsten Carbide which is powered by the arc reactor in her chest. For years Stark worked into making Iris highly advanced, while also keeping her secret from the rest of the world until she was ready to be used by the organization HYDRA. She was trained by HYDRA in combat and artificial intelligence, transforming Iris into a dangerous, ruthless killing machine. However, she still managed to keep some essence of personality thanks to Tony, who refused to have her be simply mindless. This resulted in Iris inheriting some of Tony’s more negative traits, while even accepting his lavish lifestyle. Although she may act like him, Iris has her own traits which vary from being charismatic, eloquent, and sophisticated to privileged, arrogant and cruel. Due to HYDRA’s influence, Iris is mostly misguided and blindly follows orders.

* Iris was eventually revealed when Tony tried forcing the Avengers to sign the Sokovia Accords as a means to keep HYDRA underground. She was introduced as a new recruit of the US government, in which she had a hand in writing the Accords. When the Avengers found that Iris was created by not just HYDRA but by Tony, this caused a huge riff in the team. The people on Team Iron Man immediately turn on him once finding out that he created Iris, which in turn resulted in them finding out that not only had he been providing the organization with weapons, but was a member himself. Out of all the team members, Iris has the largest fallout with Bucky Barnes (the former Winter Soldier) and Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow), as she mostly worked as their antithesis, showing what probably would’ve occurred had they never recovered from their manipulation at the hands of corrupt organizations.

* After the fight between Iron Man and Captain America, Iris went into hiding alongside Tony, who was no longer a member of the Avengers. For the next two years, Iris stayed by her creators side as he intended to carry out his boss’s plan. The titan Thanos had ordered Stark to help him eradicate half the universe. Tony agreed to the plan, as he believed that Earth had been ungrateful for his attempts at ‘saving’ the world. He would help Thanos, so long as he ensured his safety and payed him. Iris, programmed to follow orders, agreed to the plan without question.

* Once Thanos arrived on Earth, Iris would go to Wakanda to stop the Avengers from destroying the Mind Stone, all the while Stark attempted to kill the Guardians of the Galaxy, Doctor Strange, and Spiderman (also the only one who knew of Tony’s true alignments). Iris, failing to retrieve the Stone, joins Tony on Titan while Thanos fights the Avengers. Despite the Avengers attempts, Thanos gets the stones and does the Snap, in which Tony and Iris survive and go into hiding once more.

That’s pretty much it. I made this cause I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I wanted to share my opinions. Feel free to add anything or give constructive criticism.

[hobiwonder]

Call out my name | (m)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Smut. Heavy Angst.

Warnings: Very heavy angst, revenge fucking, oral, dirty talk, creampie, depiction of alcoholism, mentions of abandonment, brief scene of a one night stand, anal fingering, slight non/con but not really. Toxic relationship. OC is very fucked up and so is hoseok.

Summary: Hoseok needed closure.

Words: 10k+

A/n: my beta reader will scream at me for posting it without running it by her khvbwufkbvkwb sorry ily liela but im impulsive. I fixed most things but here ya go. BUT anyway, please read this after careful consideration. It is quite heavy angst. Even i wouldn’t read this type of stuff if i wasn’t feeling it already and then ended up writing it lol. Just tread carefully is all i’m saying. Let me know what you think if you do end up reading this hgjtcdydythmfvujv

For the full experience of pain listen to these songs and perceive the lyrics from Hoseok’s point of view: Call out my name and I was never there by the weeknd, Blue Side and boy meets evil by our beautiful wonderful sunshine hobi that i love very much.

The wind rustled your hair, the cold night air rendering you almost motionless from the chill creeping up your body and settling into your bones. Twigs snapped underneath the weight of your feet trudging through the cemetery. Looking behind and around you every couple of seconds hoping to spot the person you were wishing was still well or at least alive. The night was still relatively young and you were thankful for the call you received before it was too late and you were much too far away to be concerned about anything, much less about a grown man drinking himself to oblivion in front of his mother’s grave. Shaking your head at the thought, your tongue felt bitter at the inner turmoil of your heart, knowing that you still cared. You still fucking cared. Why else would you have left your apartment because of one, barely a minute-long call letting you know Hoseok was nowhere to be found?

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N” hearing Yoongi’s voice waver, your stomach dropped, knowing instantly something was not quite right. “Is… Is Hoseok with you?”

“Why would he be?” A sigh. A breath inhaled. The unspoken questions resonating with you without having to be allotted into the air, “To beg you to take him back? Cut his own balls off just to have you back?”

“He’s not at the company. He’s nowhere. I’m… not sure what to do.” Yoongi sounded exhausted, at the end of his faculties at his best friend and business partner’s sudden desertion from the face of earth. Closing your eyes, you asked god above to afford you with the strength you needed to deal with the expected.

“I might know. I’ll give you a call when I find him.” You hang up, grabbing your coat, and head for your car.

That’s how you’d ended up at the cemetery you knew your… you didn’t exactly know what to call Hoseok. What he was to you. He was your everything and he was your nothing. Every holy entity probably cursed you enough to last you a lifetime or two. Knowing how much you had fucked up a perfectly good man, willing to give you everything but you had to go and unleash your demons and be your overbearing self. Making decisions for him, about his love and if he was allowed to give it to you. You knew that Yoongi only asked you as a last resort. He detested you for ever leaving Hoseok and breaking whatever you had built with him. Yoongi was a fierce friend and that meant swallowing his pride and asking the woman who had devastated his friend to the point of relying on alcohol, his least favourite potion, just to have Hoseok safe. Though Yoongi had contemplated for a while if you were a graver danger than the chilling weather outside. Only you would know where Hoseok would be at 2 in the morning, drinking his sorrows away in front of his mother’s grave, that he had learnt about, not too long ago.

Taking out your phone and turning on the built-in flash light, you looked around as you took several rights towards the sound of a bottle crashing against, what you guessed, was cement. You walked for a few more meters and there he was. Leaning against the cement slab on which his mother’s name was carved.

Hoseok knew you were here before you had even said his name. Were you real or just an illusion he had envisaged up in his inebriated state? He wasn’t sure. He was too occupied, an air of melancholy surrounding him. He was cursing his dead mother out enough to put even the foulest men to shame. Anyone who didn’t know his situation would probably brand him as a lunatic, cursing at a grave as the bottle of whiskey steadily disappeared, burning his pharynx, sending him further into his drunken haze, making it easier to blame all of his misfortunes, failed relationships and bonds and his inability to detach himself from toxicity such as you, on his mother. His fucking mother who had abandoned him at the tender age of 9 at a fair. He remembered everything. It made it all the easier to damn her to hell as he drank in celebration of her death anniversary. Another year, without a monster in this godforsaken world. He snickered bitterly, the smooth taste of the whiskey making it easier to swallow the lump in his throat that was threatening to almost cut off his air supply.

A hand on his shoulder, gentle and warm, tentative. Nothing like you.

“Hoseok, let’s go.”

He flung your hand off him like it had been dipped in acid, burning him even through the covered skin it never touched.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Your expression tightened.

“Okay, then. Yoongi is worried, it’s time to go.” Trying to reason with him, your voice had taken a lower, softer undertone. Your hand reached down, trying to grasp the bottle of liquor that he held so tightly against his chest when he refused to budge, taking another big gulp. A gasp was torn from your lips as your warm hand touched his icy skin as he lacked any form of warm clothing apart from his suit jacket that did nothing to provide him with substantial heat.

“You’re going to freeze if you stay out any longer, let’s go.”

“Maybe then, it’ll hurt less.” The words spoken so softly, you almost think, wish, you had imagined them. They were more chilling than the storm itself and you cursed yourself for being this affected. The silence that ensued after he had spoken was nothing short of throttling. You sighed in exasperation; you didn’t have time to fight with him. Not when he was intoxicated and about to get frost bitten. A million things ran into your head, yet you couldn’t rack one expedient thought out to respond to him. To tell him you were sorry. Sorry that it had to be this way. Sorry that it had to end. But to him, all he saw was the exterior. And he wanted nothing more than to conjure up the strength to scream and shout at you to go away from his life. To stop coming back and ruining him for anyone else. He hated you. He hated you so much for making him want to do nothing but be a pathetic shell of a man, waiting to be accepted by the woman who had rejected and humiliated his feelings over and over and over. Yet here he was. A hypocrite. Rejecting you outwardly but keeping you locked tightly in his heart so the remnants of the lover you were to him, stayed. Feeding the delusional part of his brain, telling him that he stood a chance in your heart that was home to nothing but bitterness and so much self-loathing it had no room for the healing his love, he had hoped, would provide you.

“Hoseok, please. You’re drinking yourself into liver failure. Yoongi is worried.” He looked at you. Really looked at you, and it perturbed him that his damned heart skipped so many beats he thought he was actually having a heart attack. Why did he still see a halo around your head when all you did was break him? He had shared everything with you and you had gone right ahead and torn him apart. Dissembling him, piece by piece until you took and took and nothing but a skeleton was left of what was a loving, caring and giving man he once thought himself to be. You were poisoning him and he knew it. Yet, he wanted nothing more than to be wrapped around in your arms that were currently being held around you, trying to shield yourself from the cold gust of wind that left your cheeks rosy and your eyes watering.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you, Yoo-”

“Why are…Youhere?” A pause. A breath taken in so tranquilly you weren’t sure you actually truly breathed.

“Because no one else had an idea where you were.”

“But you did.” His accusatory tone made you look down as if you were guilty of this fact. Hoseok rested his head onto the stone slab, regretting yet another moment of weakness where he had opened up to you. Telling you a few months back that he’d found his mother, albeit only her grave, but it had given him solace, a sense of relief that he had found her dead rather than alive. Or that’s what he told himself.

“I did.” Nodding your agreement, kicking the rubble beneath your feet, wanting to be anywhere but here. With Hoseok reminding you of what a monster you were. No good for him. The last bit was your own belief, Hoseok was too good to think that.

“Does it make you feel good? Knowing you’ve won once again? That no one will probably ever know me like you do, because you know-”

“No, I-”

“-that I’ll never be able to open up to anyone again? So you can continue to save me, save the fucking day and be able to see me without having to have the burden of loving me. Are you satisfied?”

Clenching your jaw, you barely restrained your tongue, ready to deny all the charges. But you couldn’t. Because to some extent, they were true. You were a coward, too afraid to love him like he deserved so you reeled in your self-righteousness, thinking you were doing a veracious deed by keeping him at an arm’s length, resorting to catching fleeting glimpses into his life through the mishaps he found himself in often and to what only you knew how to pull him out off. It was your twisted way of keeping him in your life while simultaneously telling him he wasn’t worth the fight you’d have to go through with your demons, to keep him. You were a disaster for him, yet he failed to see that.

“Not everything I do is about you, Hoseok.” Yes it is!You wanted to shout from roof tops. “I have called Yoongi, the car will be here in 5 minutes to pick you up.” Hoseok chuckled at your obvious dismissal of his previous accusations.

“You’re a fucking liar, Y/N. Everything you do is to trap me so much so that I can’t even breathe without you helping me.” Hoseok, with much effort, pulled himself to his feet stumbling, coming closer to your figure that was starting to retreat at his close proximity.

“You know what the sad thing is? I don’t even want you to stop. I’m in love with you and you don’t even care.” Hoseok felt like his heart was tearing apart, eyes welling up with unshed tears clouding his vision as he leaned closer to your face.

“You’ve… You’ve broken me.” Tears sliding their way down his pale cheek as his eyes closed themselves, seemingly surrendered in the moment. He looked utterly defeated and it made you want to fling yourself off a bridge. You hadn’t anticipated such defeat from him. You wanted to shake him, tell him to yell at you. Call you a cold blooded monster, anything but this. Anything but this look of pure crushing vanquish and hurt across his face. So clear that you felt it in your bones. Felt the pain he was feeling, almost tasting it on the tip of your tongue.

The sound of a car pulling in the rubble filled parking lot interrupted any measly response you might have conjured up or worse, fell to your knees to ask him for forgiveness. Instead, you gathered yourself and looked him in the eyes one last time as you heard footsteps approaching you both.

“You’re not in love with me, Hoseok.”

Before he could respond, you spun around, walking back the way to your car as if you were being chased, about to be prey to a dangerous predator. When in reality, you were the only predator, praying on Hoseok’s feelings. Being inside the safety and the much needed warmth from the heater you had cranked up on your way before, the events that had conspired just moments before really began to settle in. You had ruined everything with Hoseok. Cut off any chances of a future you might have had with him. Alas, in the end, you were your own demise. The incessant voice and the circumstances, remained at the back of your mind, convincing you that it just had to be this way.

___________________________________________________________________________

Hoseok could feel the worst hangover creeping up to overtake his senses since his college graduation party. Only this time, he hadn’t forgotten anything that had taken place just before he had blacked out in the back of Yoongi’s escalade. Remembering every bitter detail of the night, your indifference to his confession; not even a second glance spared his way before you had rid yourself of him and left him weeping and being a pathetic mess of a man. He had never felt more vulnerable in that moment, hoping to make you realise that what you both had meant so much to him, only to find out that it in fact, meant much more to him than it ever did to you. Vividly remembering the day, you had shut him out of your life, with nothing more than a text. When he had confronted you the next day thinking it was just your insecurities creeping up again, instead he was faced with your calm and apathetic gaze.

“What are you saying? You can’t just ‘terminate’ this relationship. This isn’t a damn contract, Y/N.” Exasperated, he had run his hand through his hair for what seemed like the hundredth time, pacing back and forth in his office as you sat in the chair across from his own, hands in your lap looking ahead. Professional as ever.

“Details are unimportant. I’m sorry Hoseok but,” You had taken a deep breath looking as much composed as he was close to losing his mind at how easy all these words seem to come to the tip of your tongue, spoken with such assurance that had him bewildered, “We don’t want the same things. I thought… I thought I wanted this. Us.”

“So that’s it? You give me a two weeks’ notice of your resignation along with dumping me or whatever the fuck the time we spend together meant to you? Jesus Christ Y/N, are you going to move to a different country next?” He couldn’t believe it, that you had so easily given up your position at the company just because whatever you had with him, was over.

“I’ve been offered a position elsewhere for a while, I can assure you this is just… a messy coincidence. It’ll be best if we don’t work together.” You had stood up, smoothing your skirt over, carefully avoiding eye contact with him, standing in place for a few seconds. He watched you as you stood in silence, looking across his desk to the sun setting outside, hues of orange and pink shining in his office through the various sky scrapers surrounding his company building. He raked his brain for any and every word he could think of to make you stay, understand why and how the sudden change in your behaviour had come about. He knew he was lying to himself with the thought that it was a sudden change. That he hadn’t seen you gradually pull away from him, emotionally and physically, only the skeleton of you remaining in the nights when he’d cradle you against his figure, trying to omit even the slightest bit of sincerity from your form that would lay emotionally torpid beneath him. A mere ghost of the woman he had made love to before. He was sure it was love. So sure that you reciprocated his sentiments as well.

Before you could leave the room, he grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around to face him.

“What happened, Y/N? W-What did I do? Why are you pulling away? Please tell me. Tell me and I’ll fix it.” He was sure he had almost looked manic, desperation lacing his words, hoping to reason with you.

“I told you Hoseok, I-I don’t want this. Please, just let me go.” He knew you didn’t just mean literally. He had fucking known, yet he continued to humiliate himself.

“I know you think you shouldn’t be with me but please, I love you,” he had taken your face in his hands, drawing your body closer as if to convey some of his feelings and pour them into your body and reignite the feelings that were no longer there, “and you love me. We can make this work Y/N, please.”

You had broken yourself from his hold with such ferocity you would think that he had been assaulting you instead of the tender embrace he had captured your form in to. And then you had spoken those words, with such guarantee, they chilled him to the core. The words that tore him apart, let him know that this was a lost cause.

“You know that I have never said what I don’t mean, made any claims that don’t stand a chance. My decision is final Hoseok. I’m sorry but I don’t want this.”

It was then he had realised, you had never once uttered the words, I love you, to him.

And damn it all to hell and back, no amount of liquid poison could make him forget the pain and humiliation you had caused him. No amount of alcohol could cause permanent damage to the part of his heart and brain that still clung to the devotion and ardour he held for you. He would’ve reminisced in his reflections longer if it hadn’t been for the shrill ring of his cell phone. The screen signalling that his best friend was on the line, the only reason he even decides to reach for his phone.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Thanks Yoongi, for dragging my drunk, delinquent ass at 3 am in the morning from the freezing cold and to my house and in my own damn bed so I don’t freeze to death. Oh no problem Hoseok! That’s what friends are for!”

Hoseok just closed his eyes, letting Yoongi run his mouth and call him out on his obviously lacking mannerisms. Sighing, he thanked his best friend, as he deserved.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, asshole.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, too hungover to fight with his friend. He needed a damn drink and he needed it ASAP. Putting his phone on speaker, Hoseok climbed out of his bed with much difficulty, wanting to do nothing but fall back into the pillowy, literally, heaven that was his bed. Where the smell of you still lingered from weeks ago. Rubbing his face, he walked over to the whiskey bottle on his minibar, the glass cork making a clinking noise as he set it aside to pour himself a drink right before Yoongi’s shout sounded from the phone.

“Don’t you fucking dare pour that drink, Jung Hoseok. I will come down and beat your fucking ass if you got shit faced today when it is barely noon.”

“Time isn’t real Yoongi, get over it.” Pouring himself a drink, Hoseok looks at the phone in his hand, contemplating if he should hang up and be miserable on his own without any damn interruptions.

“Hoseok,” Yoongi’s earnest voice and the way it audibly softens, makes him halt, “as your business partner, your childhood best friend and most importantly, as someone who cares about you, I’m advising you that drinking yourself silly every day like you’ve been doing for the last four weeks is not healthy.”

He lets out a snort in disbelief at himself, as if he didn’t already know that. Yoongi however, goes on after a large exhale as if to prepare himself for what he’s about to say.

“I know… it’s have been hard for you to not fall down that hole. I know it must hurt like hell, believe me. But you have to pull yourself out of it. You can’t change what’s happened but please,” Yoongi almost pleads, “you need to let go.”

“I know, hyung.” Hoseok hears Yoongi, but he doesn’t want to. His heart doesn’t seem to be listening either. He knows that unless he tries, there is no other way to relieve himself of his pain. It’s funny how usually, it’s the other way around. Hoseok is the endless beam of energy and hope for Yoongi and his lethargic personality. Now that the roles are reversed, he truly begins to appreciate his best friend.

“Good… why don’t you come in to the office today, huh? It hasn’t been the same without you, brother.” Hoseok grins slightly at the sincerity in Yoongi’s voice, not being used to the elder’s open display of such brotherly affection.

“Okay, hyung. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Oh thank god, I’ve been holding down the fort while you sulked but it’s about time you came back.”

“Don’t make me change my mind.” Yoongi laughs before hanging up. Managing a multi-million-dollar enterprise that they built together was never a one-person job. Hoseok feels a pang of guilt deep within his chest thinking about Yoongi being on his own while he’d been too lost in his own mind when he wasn’t drunk, to even check in on him. If for no one else, Hoseok decides then and there, he needs to get himself together at least for Yoongi and tips his glass of whiskey, in to the sink.

“Look who emerged from the bat cave. Sure you got no burns from the sunlight on the way over?”

“Hyung, I will throw my phone at you if you don’t shut the fuck up. Christ, the looks from the staff were enough. Do I look that bad?”

Did he really? It was a wonder no one had bumped into each other or some other dramatic soap opera shit when he had entered the main floor and an audible hush had fallen around him as he passed his staff and went straight for his private elevator to the top floor. It was no better when he had entered his floor and all the staff on his way over to Yoongi’s office, which was next to his own, had parted like he was Moses and they were the red sea. Their hushed ‘Good mornings’ had barely passed his ears and he had appreciated that no one tried to be overly enthusiastic. But he figured it was probably not because he was hungover and more because they weren’t sure if their boss was going to actually going to stay.

“Unfortunately, you look great as always, even when you’re 80% alcohol right now and probably took a shower after a month,” Yoongi murmurs ‘Handsome motherfucker’ under his breath as he pours Hoseok a shot of espresso. He rolls his eyes at Yoongi’s snide compliment.

“Anyhow,” handing Hoseok his coffee, Yoongi sits back in his chair as Hoseok walks over to the floor to ceiling glass window, overlooking Seoul city, “I’m glad you’re here, Hoseok.”

Hoseok nods at Yoongi, not finding it in him to do more, knowing there was still something he needed to get off his chest.

“Why did you send her hyung?” The frustration in his voice evident.

“I didn’t know where you were! How was I supposed to know you were at the cemetery when you don’t tell me shit?”

“You didn’t have to.” The bitterness of the espresso makes it easier to make implications that his best friend definitely didn’t appreciate.

“Excuse me? You’re the one always grilling me about my life, making me ‘lean on’ you. Why can’t I do the same for you? Don’t be a hypocrite.” Yoongi leans back in his chair, trying to find the right words to tell Hoseok that he needs to let somebody in on the thoughts in his head. Especially in a time when he’s so fragile because of you. Hoseok downs the rest of his espresso and runs his hands through his blonde tresses, pulling for a few seconds in sheer aggravation at himself.

“I know… I know. I’m sorry I made you worry. I just… didn’t want to see her.” Yoongi gets out of his chair as he listens to Hoseok’s voice get softer and quieter. Walking over, he looks at Hoseok’s face and truly sees for the first time how tired his best friend looks. Placing his hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, he gives a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sorry I had to send her. Keep me in the loop and I won’t have to ask… her.” Yoongi stays clear of saying your name out loud seeing how delicate of a state Hoseok was in, not wanting to cause any more pain than necessary as Hoseok nods in agreement.

“Tell you what, let’s go out after work and get a drink at Merlo’s?”

“Hyung, you were just chastising me for drinking.” Yoongi claps Hoseok’s back walking back over to his chair.

“For drinking alone, there is a difference. This time I’ll be there to keep an eye on you. Come on, have a drink with your hyung!” Hoseok can’t help when a laugh escapes him when Yoongi belts out his thick Daegu accent on purpose. In times like these, he really appreciated Yoongi having his back.

“This is definitely not the best bar in Seoul, hyung,” Hoseok takes in the posh décor that makes him roll his eyes and the over pretentious staff and bartenders with their snappy movements to guise themselves as standouts. When in reality, this was an overpriced bar and Hoseok just wanted a drink.

“Well, I thought maybe we’ll change it up a bit… Also Jiwoo might have sent someone to meet you.” Yoongi mumbles the last part, knowing Hoseok wouldn’t have come to a place like this otherwise. And he was right as Hoseok’s eyes widen.

“Noona? And you didn’t think to tell me? What the hell, hyung. You know I’m not ready!” He can almost feel his cool composure melting off him in layers, knowing his older sister’s matches were more often than not, wacky.

“It’s been weeks, Hoseok. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and get out there. Maybe this will help.” Hoseok tries to listen to Yoongi, he really does. But he doesn’t want to. It’s too early. His wounds feel like they were inflicted just yesterday, too fresh, too clear. Too agonising. Nevertheless, he knows unless he does this, he won’t get Yoongi off his back. So, nodding, Hoseok agrees reluctantly.

“Also, she’s a recent share holder at our company and new to the city. She doesn’t know you or anything or has any expectations and inclinations of you, Hoseok. This is your chance to try and start fresh.”

“Okay… I’ll try just for you, hyung.” Yoongi pats Hoseok’s back, genuinely appreciative of his friend’s trust in him and that he was sincerely, making an effort. Or so it seemed.

“We also have a lot of pending business to take care of. The collaboration launch party of Kim Inc. and Jung-Min enterprise as well as our conference in Jeju is coming up all in a span of a few weeks and months respectively.” Hoseok was half engrossed in his drink and half listening to Yoongi when a slender figure had joined their private booth. The woman was nothing short of gorgeous as even Yoongi took in her S shaped figure and golden bronzed skin clad in a mildly suggestive knee length dress.

“I’m glad I crashed this conversation at the right time before you two got too carried away.” Her beaming smile, though sweet, was too much for Hoseok.

“Hyolyn, glad you could join us.” Yoongi sits up as Hyolyn slips right in with Hoseok as he comes to term with the fact that this is definitely the girl his sister and Yoongi have set him up with. She was jaw-dropping, but she wasn’t you.

“Hoseok, this is the lovely lady I was just telling you about.” Hoseok conjured up a half sincere smile as he took in her small features gleaming up at him politely.

“Nice to meet you.”

“No, nice to meet you, Hoseok. I’ve heard great things about you from Jiwoo and Yoongi here.” Hoseok sent Hyolyn a tight smile, not being in the business of enjoying hearing himself being extolled. He tried his best to be polite and forthcoming to the newcomer at their table. It wasn’t as if Hyolyn wasn’t nice on top of her already beautiful exterior. She genuinely paid interest in what he had to say and hung on to his every word, paying him entirely too much attention. Nothing he was used to with you.

Get a fucking hold of yourself, he cursed at himself. If even after a month you still clouded his mind this much, he wondered how long it would take him to stop comparing every woman to you.

“Alright then, I have some matters to take care of it seems,” Yoongi complained with his eyebrows furrowed, looking down at his phone after an hour of Hyolyn’s arrival. Hoseok almost let his jaw drop at how unconvincing the older man was at pretending that he had something urgent to attend to. Though, Yoongi probably was trying to spare Hoseok the embarrassment that undoubtedly would come along if he had abruptly left. Which Yoongi has done before. Hoseok could tell that Yoongi was serious about him moving on if he was willing to play a matchmaker with his sister.

“Oh okay, shame you have to leave so soon.” Hyolyn contorted her pretty face in a look of sympathy, looking up at Yoongi who was now standing with his suit jacket in his hand. He looked at Hoseok and Hyolyn, throwing a sly smirk at Hoseok’s glaring face.

“Yeah, shame. Anyway, you take care of him, alright?” With a solute, Yoongi was dashing out of the bar moving faster than Hoseok had ever seen him move in all the years he’d known him.

“Look, you don’t have to “take care” of me like that smug bastard suggested,” Hyolyn stifled a laugh, smiling politely at Hoseok leaning in to talk to her, “I’ll be fine if you would rather find better company. I’m afraid I’m not going to be too entertaining tonight.”

Hyolyn decreased the distance between them even more and brought her hand lightly on top of his, a show of understanding.

“Look, I will be honest, Jiwoo told me you had just gotten out of a relationship and were in pretty bad shape. I understand if you’re not in the right mindset to give someone else a chance but,” Hyolyn took a deep breath and let her kind eyes hold his own as she spoke with a gentle smile on her face, “We don’t have to do anything. I can be here as a friend if you want?”

He could see the glint in her eyes, instantly grasping what she was suggesting. However, Hoseok knew he couldn’t use someone as sweet as Hyolyn as his rebound.

“I appreciate that, Hyolyn, really. I think I may need a friend for now, more than anything.” At that she smiles knowingly, removing her hand atop his.

Time passes a little quicker as Hyolyn makes commendable effort to get to know Hoseok, carefully distracting him from downing his drinks too fast. In fact, Hoseok himself is surprised at the unfamiliar feeling of you being absent from floating in his mind, staining his every thought. That’s until by some cruel joke the universe must be playing on him, he spots a figure strutting inside the bar, a dress clinging to your sinful body and heels that used to drive him crazy. Who was he kidding, they still drove him crazy. It takes him a little longer to notice the man beside you, his hand grasping your own as he’s leading you to a booth in the VIP section he currently himself was in.

He must have been staring for a while since Hyolyn turns to follow his gaze. He’s thankful she can’t tell if he’s watching you or the man you’re with. Which happen to be none other than-

“Isn’t that Kim Namjoon of Kim Inc, the company you’re going in business with?”

Hoseok doesn’t add the fact that he also used to be his best friend, once upon a time. Instead he motions the waiter over without sparing a glance at him, continuing to watch you interact with Namjoon as you lean forward to talk with him, no doubt giving him an eyeful of your luscious breasts. Hoseok could almost feel the steam coming off from him like he was just about a second away from evaporating into the thin air.

“Seems so.” If he gives off any hints of the drastic change in his demeanour and the frequency by which the alcohol is disappearing down his throat almost doubling than before, Hyolyn doesn’t mention.

“I’ve heard he just hired a new PA with crazy high salary.” Hoseok’s attention immediately zooming back on to Hyolyn’s speculations.

“And where did you hear that?” Hyolyn smirks, rolling her eyes as she explains.

“Oh you know the amount of gossip that goes around when you’re a young and handsome man in such a position of power.” Hoseok has to almost force himself to pay attention to what she’s saying. He had known from his sources that you’d taken a position as a PA for Namjoon and had never understood for the life of him, your decision to do the same job you had done for him, and move to another company to do exactly that rather than ask for a promotion. He never entertained the possibility of you actually working for Namjoon for reasons other than not being able to work for the man who was invested in you more than you, him. Reasons like more money. And the thought alone made him want to march up to you to confront your need for a bigger salary than the unconditional love he thought was being reciprocated.

“Yeah? What’ve you heard about me?” Hyolyn turns back to Hoseok, clinking her drink with his own.

“Nothing that makes me want to not give you a chance.” She says with a smile. Just then, he sees you emerge from the booth you’d been in with Namjoon, adjusting your dress. As though you feel his intense gaze on your skin, you look up, making his heart almost stop. You don’t fare much better as you dash towards what he assumes is the restroom. Before he can talk himself out of it, he finds himself following you, vaguely deciphering a call of his name from Hyolyn.

He enters the restroom, not giving you a chance to say anything else, before he confronts you. He just had to know.

“He’s paying you well, huh?” Hoseok is almost seething and there you are, calm and collected as ever. Like his accusations didn’t matter to you. Just like nothing ever fucking matters to you.

“I am a PA to a CEO; Yes, he is.” You state as a matter of fact, reapplying your lipstick that he just notices was a little smudged. Hoseok could feel his heart beating louder and faster in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He never thought you’d be this indifferent to him. The look of panic he had seen on your face just before almost feeling like an illusion now. The woman in front of him now was nothing short of a distant, bitter reality he wanted to never face but was now forced to.

You didn’t want him. You never wanted him.

“Is money so fucking important to you? You could’ve asked me for it and I’d have given it to you!” because I was that in love with you. Though he doesn’t say that out loud he knows you hear it loud and clear. And once again, you don’t spare him a second breath, brushing your hands down your tantalizing dress, staring him straight in the eyes as you approach him.

“I am a PA not a CEO and an heir to a million-dollar empire. Yes, money is of importance to me.” Hoseok groans at your too technical answer, not giving anything away. He was sick and tired of you being evasive.

“Stop with this bullshit Y/N, you know what I’m asking.” He takes a deep breath, closing the distance between himself and where you stood holding on to the sink.

“Are you fucking him? Is he paying you enough to put out, huh?” Your eyes remain focused on his own, refusing to waver like he thought, hoped, they would. Hoped that you’d break out into sounds of horror and surprise, telling him that he was wrong and that you would never do anything like that. Hell, be mad at him, hit him and demand to know how he dare accuse you of being some money hungry whore.

But you don’t. Instead, you leave him with words that dry out his mouth and stop his heart.

“Maybe he is. Either way, who I’m fucking doesn’t concern you anymore, Hoseok.” You give him another chilling look before pushing past him, exiting the bathroom. Hoseok could feel everything slowing down around him. Your words still ringing in his ears. It was as if he was glued to where he stood. No amount of commands his brain sent to his muscles were able to move him. The bitter reality was taking its sweet time settling in his bones, rendering him useless to move until another woman enters the bathroom, gasping out for him to leave.

He sped back to his booth, hastily apologizing to Hyolyn, who looked just as confused as he had felt moments before you had walked out on him.

“Is everything Alright, Hoseok?”

“I just can’t do this right now Hyolyn, I’m sorry.” He sighed beckoning the waiter over to settle his and Hyolyn’s bill. She looked sweetly sympathetic, standing up with him to make sure he was alright. Hoseok wasn’t really sure if he was upset or angry. Maybe both. With the dizziness being from sheer rage or hurt, he wasn’t quite sure. What he was sure of, though, was that he wanted to get out of this bar before he suffocated.

“Can I do something to help?” Her pleading eyes made the pang of guilt that was bubbling away in his chest a tad bit bigger at the fact that he was leaving her to go numb his senses by fucking someone senseless.

He reached over to caress her cheek as his parting vow, “No you can’t, get home safe Hyolyn.”

All Hoseok could think about was your words, your body clinging to Namjoon’s, your scent when he confronted you in the bathroom. Even when the girl, whose name he had forgotten the minute she had said it, took him in her mouth like her life depended on it. It had been hours since he’d left the bar after the debacle with you at the bar where he’d also left Hyolyn and went to the sleaziest club he could find, where he wouldn’t be able to be recognized.

Only thing on his mind was the stagnant truth. No matter how many times he replayed your answers in his mind, picking them apart to see the silver lining to what you’d hinted at but was plainly clear if only he let himself believe it too. You didn’t care about him anymore, possibly never did.

“Fuck,” The girl licking away at the underside of his cock looked up at him smiling around him when he heavily rested his head on the wall he was leaning against. Thinking he’d been responding to her tongue she continued with much fervour, when really, he was cursing himself for not being able to accept the truth. You had ditched him at the first signs he had shown of wanting to deepen his relationship with him. Jumping ship as soon as he shared his heart with you, about his mother, his fears of you leaving him. And you had done exactly that it seems like. Now he knew the catalyst had been the six figure salary Namjoon had offered you. His mind was filled with rage and his heart was filled with betrayal. And even after you blatantly admitting you might be sleeping with Namjoon, he somehow thought of you and your mouth being the one swallowing around him instead. The only thing Hoseok wanted to do was get you out of his system. And of course, why wouldn’t he start with fucking you out of his system.

He’d hooked up with the first willing girl, telling his brain to shut the fuck up when his conscious accused him of trying to find you even in a one night stand he’ll never see again. She’d been all the more eager when he’d pushed her against the wall, making her feel the rigidity of his cock against her to coax her to her knees. He wanted to bang on the walls, pull on his hair, beat the living shit out of himself for being so fucking oblivious to your changing demeanour the months before it had all unravelled while simultaneously still wanting to rush back to you.

Alas, it was easier to hate you now. Knowing how money hungry you were, willing to shamelessly flaunt yourself as such too. But he knew mindlessly hooking up with random women was not about to provide him with the numbness he craved. He needed closure and he was going to fucking get it. Maybe, just maybe, what he was about to do would put his need for you at a halt. He hated you in this moment. He wanted it to blossom so much that it occupied all the space in his traitorous heart.

So what does he do? Go straight to your apartment of course.

“Hoseok? What are you do-” You weren’t given even the courtesy of finishing your sentence before he had his mouth over yours. Your hands had found purchase on his chest and it’d boiled his blood even further. Not sure if at the way his heart had skipped several beats or at you because it was so easy for you to make it do so.

He had wanted to be gentle at first, to share more of those deep sweet kisses that left him dizzy and stunned, but that dress and those heels…

Screw gentle.

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you further inside, barely taking the time to lock the door before he pushed you against it and slanted his mouth over yours. He slid his hands under your ass and lifted you so that you were truly pinned between the wooden door and his pelvis, which he rocked against you as he kissed you. Hoseok looked around to make sure you were truly alone, and then he grabbed your hand and tugged you inside your bedroom. He spun you around so that your ass was pressed against him—pressed against his erection. He put one hand over your mouth and then undid the knot to the ribbon that held your pyjama pants snug to your hips.

“You’re only hungry for money and cock aren’t you?” He said in your ear, not expecting an answer. “Where you get more of any of those, you go running with your mouth wide open.”

And then he slid his fingers down your stomach, slipping under your silk panties. You moaned against his hand, hands tugging on his arm that was relentless between your legs.

“Shhh,” He said. “Sluts like you don’t get a say on what’s done to them.”

You whimper in response. Too responsive for your own good.

God, he loved your pussy. He’d never felt anything softer than the skin between your legs—and fuck you were wet. So wet that he really could pull his slacks down and take what he wanted, right here, right now. But no. You didn’t deserve that.

Not that he wouldn’t fantasize about it as he got you off.

He started in on your clit in earnest now, circling it hard and fast, loving the way you bucked against his hand. He knew it was more pressure and speed than was comfortable, but he also knew that you would like it that way, savour that tiny, tiny bite of pain with your pleasure with the way you were gushing more than you ever had before. You were filthy and he was finally realising that.

“I would’ve done this all day, Y/N,” He rasped in your ear. “I love reaching down the front of your pants, playing with your cunt, making you come. Do you like it?”

You nodded, your breathing jagged against his hand. You were getting close.

“Too fucking bad,” He said, and he almost felt like he was having an out-of-body experience, listening to himself say these words. But he was beyond caring, or more importantly, was beyond the point of denying the reality. You really never cared then and he really didn’t care now. He was drunk on the need to leave you begging and wondering what you’d left behind.

“Now you show that you’re a fucking human being and not a robot? Hm? Rutting against my hand like the gold digging whore you are. You want to come don’t you?”

You nodded again, eagerly, desperately.

“Of course you do. Always wanting more,” and his voice was hoarse now. “You’re nothing to me anymore, Y/N. And you know what? My fingers in your cunt while saying that makes me so fucking hard. Feel me. Feel how hard I am just thinking about it.” He grounded his cock into your ass, and you shuddered again.

He could feel you convulsing around his fingers, clenching and unclenching when he prodded at the spongey bundle deep within you, making you thrash around in his grasp. He stilled his hand, resorting to rubbing your walls.

“Does he fuck you like I did? Hm? Or does that even matter?” Hoseok plucks your clit with his thumb and pointer finger, “It doesn’t matter does it? You’ll run to the next man with a fat cock and an even fatter wallet. I had everything baby but it wasn’t enough for you.”

There was no entity that could stop Hoseok from saying all that was to come out of his mouth like he’d bottled it all up for the past month. He picks up a punishing rhythm, your pussy struggling to clench around his fingers as they left your cunt just as quickly as they had entered. Before Hoseok can stop, you’re tumbling over the edge, breathing hard behind Hoseok’s hand.

You quaked under his touch for a long minute, and finally came down, sagging against him.

He kept his hand in your panties for a minute or two longer, loving the way it looked, loving the way it felt, and then he reluctantly withdrew. He sucked on his fingers as you turned to face him, eyes bright and cheeks clearly flushed even in the dark of the bedroom, looking nothing like the put together statue you had looked earlier. You looked positively ruined and Hoseok fucking loved it. For once feeling like he had a better idea of what was to come than you. Because the ball was in his court.

He walked backwards, sitting on your bed like he had done many times before. Only this time, instead of waiting for you to climb on to him, letting you take the reins, he demanded complete obedience and strangely, you obliged.

“Come here,” He says. “And kneel.”

You did, your breath audible now, kneeling in front of him and crossing your ankles behind you, taunting him with those eyes.

“Take them off,” He said, jerking his chin down to indicate his belted slacks. You did, impatiently tugging them off his hips, and he groaned as his erection was finally, finally let free. You sat there after completing the task as if he was giving you orders like he had before at the office. Hoseok let himself really stare you down, holding your gaze until your, dare he say, embarrassed one strayed far from his face to his cock. “Suck me like the cock hungry slut you are, Y/N.”

You continued to stare at his heavy cock against his stomach, listening to him demean you. Nothing like you’d ever imagined Hoseok to be like. “You don’t get to just take Y/N. Time to give a little baby.”

Hearing the endearment, albeit said in a more sinister context, provides enough of an incentive for you to start laving his cock with attention like never before. You pressed soft, red lips to the silky skin of his cock. “Fuck, just like that.” He breathed down at you. “Suck it good baby.”

He found your lips with his thumb, running it along your lower one and pulling it down to open you up more. “Hold still,” He told you, and then he guided his cock into your waiting mouth.

It had only been a month, and yet he’d forgotten that your mouth was like a slice of heaven, warm and wet and with that flicking, fluttering tongue that danced along the underside of his dick. He laced his hands through your hair—fucking up whatever adorable hairstyle you’d had it in—and then slowly withdrew, savouring every single second as your lips and tongue kissed against his skin. And then he slid in again, less gently this time, his eyes darting from your lips to your crossed ankles to the way your hand circled your clit as he slowly fucked your mouth. You were being so filthy, even when he had been degrading you just before, calling you all sorts of name you definitely should be refuting instead of finding them arousing enough to get on your knees for him.

You kept your eyes pinned to his, peering up at him through those long dark eyelashes, and he thought about all the times they’d distracted the hell out of him at the office and all the times that he’d fucked your brains out before, always whispering his affections for you and how crazy he was for you, at the end. And now, he just wanted to paddle your sweet ass for making him so goddamned crazy about you.

He tightened his grip in your hair. He wanted to go hard, he wanted to make your eyes water, he wanted to thrust until he reached the point where he could barely hold back from shooting down your throat.

“Ready?” He whispered to you, still wanting to tread on the side of consent and caution.

And then you groaned a frustrated groan, as if annoyed that he was asking again.

“Be patient,” he said and thrust hard into your mouth. Hoseok heard you choke as he hit the back of your throat, but he only gave you a minute before he pushed in again, and again. He knew he was longer and wider than most men, he knew he was harder to take, but Hoseok wasn’t going to cut you any slack unless you asked for it, not after that stunt. Because he was so absolutely sure that everything you did was to make him hurt. And hurt he was. Hurt and angry and horny and fucking in love with you. But you were not.

“You like being bad? You like making me punish you by going out with himof all people??”

You managed to nod, your watery eyes blinking up at him to make him even angrier. He knew you were most likely saying it to get on his nerves further. Make him leave, screaming, disgruntled and heartbroken. Jokes on you; his heart was already broke.

He swore. “You’ve made me crazy, y/n.” He sounds like on the bring on an angry yet sorrowful outburst.

But you smirk around his cock, and fuck, he hated and loved you at the same time. He hated love. He drove into your mouth several more times, right up until he could feel that familiar clench in his belly and then Hoseok pulled out, his breathing ragged from the effort it took not to come all over your gorgeous face. Instead, he used his thumb to wipe at your eyes, which were now smudged with makeup and tears. The ever-so-slightly smeared lipstick he left the way it was.

You sat there, breathing heavy, looking up at Hoseok like a deer caught in the headlights. Waiting and waiting until Hoseok is finally threading his hands in your hair again to roughly stand you up, a wince leaving your swollen, lipstick smeared lips. The venom laced in the way his mouth was sneering but it was his eyes that betrayed him. They were sad and you felt the pang of hurt you had so desperately tried to bury. And had been succeeding until he’d showed up at your door.

“You want to hurt me do you? Want to break my heart? Well,” he’s stepping forward, face so close to yours you could smell the whiskey on him, “I’m going to break you first. I’m going to fuck you until you’re crying, sobbing, begging me to stop. And when you’re as shattered as I am; you’ll run back to me to fix you.” Just like I have. But he doesn’t say that.

And in a matter of seconds, he’s tugging you out of your room with a punishing grip on your hair and throwing you on your couch, no gentleness, no warning as he pushes you face first down on the couch. He had no reservations anymore. Nothing. Because all that was repeated in his mind was that hewas nothing to you.

“H-Hoseok. P-Please.” Your muffled moan has his heart tightening and wounded at the same time. Why did you call his name like he was the only one for you when he knew you were already fucking another man? He wastes no time in making your ass bare in front of him, perched up on the arm rest of the sofa as  you race yourself by clutching the cushion of your couch. But he can’t help and take a look before he does anything. Your pink, swollen folds. The labia of your pussy bloomed like a rose, dripping and ready for him to sink in to. And that’s exactly what he does.

“Fuck! H-Hoseok. Oh god.” You’re already crying out like you’d been waiting for him to push his cock inside you for a century. Why was he doing this? Why was he digging this hole deeper than it already was and he couldn’t get out of it no matter how much he tried? Yet, with every thrust of his hardened girth spearing your cunt over and over and over has him digging his own grave. He wanted to die inside you. He was so madly, dangerously in love with you and you knew it. Because when you ask him to go faster in your high pitched mewl – he does. He fucks you like his life depends on it. Over and over and the symphony of your dripping arousal coating his length is something he wants to revel in. Knowing that it could very well be the last time he got to feel you at all.

You were crying now. Sobbing with every thrust like he’d been the one breaking open your insides instead the damage you’d done to him. Why were you so cruel? Why did you want to hurt so bad? And why did you want to hurt himso bad? Hoseok’s lost and torn between the physical pleasure and the emotional pain. Trying desperately to fuck it away.

“Hoseokie,” you cry out when start pushing back against his thrusting hips, “ f-fuck me harder. Tear me apart. You hate me right?” your puffy, teary face is looking right back at him and he’s losing his mind. “then show me.” He’s angry at the use of your nickname for him when you two were together.

His heart is pounding and his loins are firing up when you’re looking at him with your bedroom eyes with a hint of sadness? No you weren’t capable of that. You only liked to hurt others. Never yourself. Hoseok was fooling himself if he thought that this was for his revenge. You knew him and you were using him to your best advantage. And that’s the only thing that makes his grab your hips, pulling all the way out until the tip of his cockhead remains inside and then – he slams right back in. You’re almost howling and Hoseok is gripping your hair again, the silky tresses reminding him of memories he wanted to burn away before he pulls back your head harshly, bowing your back as his hips snap in to yours.

“I’ll tear you apart. Because that’s what you want right? You don’t want love. You want to hurt. And I’m going to make it hurt.” He’s sneering as he snaps hips in to you with each word while your cries accompany the already lewd sounds of skin on skin.

“I’m going to cum inside you. And you’re going to keep it in you until Namjoon wants to fuck. Do you understand me, y/n?” He swats your bottom harshly, making you yelp when you don’t respond at first.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes what?” He slaps your ass again, the skin going crimson read and heating up as his fluid hips smack brutally against it again and again.

“Yes, sir. Hoseok!” He’s started circling your anus that was so well lubricated because of the creamy mess your pussy and his pre-leaking length had made. Hoseok was close and he needed to cum in you. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking with the alcohol still clouding his brain but he’s circling the tight ring until he can work a finger in.

“Fuck fuck fuck. Hoseok, i-it hurts.” Good. Good. I want you to fucking hurt. Even if it wasn’t the way he wanted to but this will have to suffice. But of course, after a few minutes of him slowly fucking a finger in to your ass – you were moaning already. Dripping and leaking all over his length more than ever and he knew you liked this. But you’ll never admit it. You never admitted anything. You lived your life in denial and somehow he was still so madly, insanely in love with you.

“That’s it baby,” the endearment slips him before he can stop it, knowing this was new to you as he fingers your ass while simultaneously pounding away at your cunt. And he’s close. So close to everything but you.

“I’m cumming h-hoseok I’m-” you don’t get to finish your sentence as you’re squirting on his thrusting cock with a loud shout like he’d just stabbed you a thousand times. But of course. It was the other way around. Maybe not literally but the pain was so much that it might as well be.

“That’s it… fuck,” he’s rubbing the globes of your ass, soothing the inflamed skin as he picks up pace, needing to finish while your walls were still clenching on his cock like a vice and soon enough, he’s buried himself in to you to the hilt and hot, white spurts of cum are pushed inside your battered, swollen and red cunt.

I love you. I love you.

His brain is chanting the phrase over and over while his mouth is only growling and grunting. It’s silent except for the loud breathing of the both of you. Catching your breath while you lay face down on the couch, facing towards the seat of the couch while Hoseok stood behind you.

“I hope happiness never finds you.” His whisper is soft. Sad and pathetic and vituperative. He can only hear you sniffle slightly because it’s so silent in the apartment.

You don’t say anything when he pulls out. You don’t say anything when he calls out your name, once. You don’t say anything when he zips himself up and walks out of the door, watching you not watch him as you lay facing away from the door. Away from him. And that’s it.

a/n: yeah. no part 2 because... this was written on a whim and im not too good with angst usually so hdbucibniuwrn let me know what you think? As always, thank you for reading :)

[survivor-mesopotamia]

Ep. #2 - “Shit ain’t over till the fat lady sings and I didn’t warm my pipes.” (Cameron)

Day 4: Well. I survived my first tribal council of the season, and even though it went exactly according to plan, while I slept my entire day away, I'm still really hesitant to tell myself that I'm doing well on my tribe. I'm really nervous that my tribe mates are playing me, and that I'm really boo boo tha fool here. I called Megan post-tribal, and I was finally able to get some closure on something that happened between us in our personal lives, which felt really good. After that, she asked me about the idol, to which I had responded "Wait, Julian didn't tell you?", which hopefully sows some seeds of doubt in Megan about Julian. Ideally, if the Enlil tribe has to go back to tribal council, the four of us can bear witness to a Megan vs. Julian war. Because unfortunately, the connections I have outside Enlil, are shared with either Julian or Megan. If Megan and Julian are going after each other pre-merge, or during a swap scenario, I don't have to share those connections anymore. After that, Megan and I just talked about the nudes we received during quarantine ~ I then promptly ran to Will to tell him about the potential crack I just formed between Julian and Megan, which was met with genuine excitement. I think I'm really gaining Will's trust, and I think we vibe so well together. Love that guy! Overall, it wasn't a very productive day because I woke up at 4:30p PST. Love that for me, thanks for shading me @ Tribal Bodhi.

going into this scavenger hunt as the tribe that went to tribal last is worrysome. It's a challenge that's fully dependent on our activity, so we are at a serious disadvantage against the other two tribes that get to choose someone less active to sit out. We don't have that luxury. The point/life system eases the blow, however, since we can get less active players 1 life while more active players can get 3. In case we lose, I'm trying to connect with everyone on the tribe. I really don't want to vote anyone out though. I have an alliance with Julian and JJ, and one with Will on the side. Chrissa wants to work with Julian, JJ and myself, and I think Megan and JJ have something on the side. I'm nervous for who would be the target in the vote, and any vote would hurt all of our games collectively. Hopefully we win because the next vote will not be easy AT ALL.

Done w typing this sheet

jj and zachary are so fucking annoying to this challenge and if i vote for you first at the swap, its probably because youre typing too much during this challenge sorry not sorry xoxo - sincerely johnny a month from now

let me be clear with andrew I was not calling his hosting unfair i was calling the fact that a majority green item giving him a point unfair not the hosting but lack of yellow, also i have a headache i don't feel that good. and I just don't think zach should have had a point for it nothing against hosting obviously i watch a movie trivia thing where literally they have a challenge to challenge any questions that are unfair, that doesn't mean they are calling the question writers or the answer writers unfair. 

Zach just won the tribal challenge for us which is fantastic. We can maintain the illusion of a unified tribe longer, which keeps us together in a swap situation, and Zach has clearly painted a challenge target on himself over the last two challenges which will make him go before me if our Triforce ever becomes the minority. I'm really happy with my position in the game right now

me and monty trying to find the idol and decode this annoying ass video https://imgur.com/a/lu7sbMu

Forgive me father for I have sinned it's been approximately three days since my last confession so far can't complain really we be winning they hating we be riding pretty damn clean I've got a majoritu alliance I didn't start so odds of it falling around me and being the first voted out slim to none thank the sweet baby jesis and all that good shit. Oh well that's all for now

JULIAN’S HOST CHAT GUEST, ZEE:

I am filling in a confessional because you told me to. I am in front of my fan because it's hot. I'm thinking that it seems pretty stupid to ask me for a confessional. Julian's prod chat isn't very interesting because he's distracted.

also just threw out madison's name to johnny. if this shit backfires on me ill be ):

https://youtu.be/Pqck1gayfJU

https://youtu.be/FMay7NycsPw

yo yo yo homies!!! fuck the scavenger hunt and the mobile Skype app !! Lowkey scared but I think I’m close with everyone on the tribe except madi soooooooooo that’s probably who will go tonight. I’ve connected a lot with Monty and am hoping we can work together closely moving forward 💕not sure how useful my relationship with Zach is going to be come swap/merge bc it seems like he’s ALREADY making himself a target like the big doof he is. More later 💋

https://youtu.be/Qg47yupj1bQ

https://youtu.be/vUK8A1qWVoA

Hello tumblr survivor world! Sorry I didnt confess for episode 1, I was going to but i accidentally exited out of the page when i almost finished writing it. Anyways, it was just a cast assessment for my tribe so tl;dr everyone on my tribe is great and its really sad that we have to vote someone out now. So this whole weekend I was away so I was REALLY worried that I would be voted out since I sat out of the challenge. But after talking to Johnny and Isabelle, it seems like Madison will be voted out tonight. Which is so bad bc this her first game in a year, but hey it's our first vote and it's not me so it's not really the time to make a stand. _________________________________________________________________________________________ Okay I took a break from writing this confessional and there's moreeeeeeeee so part 2 I guess. So I had a call with Johnny and we came up with an alliance of me, him, Isabelle, and Benji. What an iconic alliance, right? But also while Johnny and I talked we got onto the topic of idols and why it is that there hasn't been an idol post yet. I brought up that wayyyyyy back when in Malaysia and some other games around that time, some of the idol hunts were less clear cut. We ended up looking at the blog and clicking the "idol system" tab and it brought us to some weird crab video with audio that sounds like a pokemon cry? Idk part of me thinks its just a joke but I also have to consider that it might be SOMETHING. It said remember to like and subscribe so I sent a screenshot of me liking and subscribing to see if that would do anything but nope. Johnny said he'd do some thinking about it and get back to me later if he figures something out. Also tribal seems super clear cut so I'm a bit less worried now but y'know how it is I can't not worry about tribal.

i just spent $8 on a spectogram and STILL cant find this fucking idol im gonna kms... monty im sorry im steam rolling ahead looking for this thing without telling you, but thank you for the first clue xoxo... if i get stumped in the future ill reach out for SURE (but idt you trust me that much so this seems kinda valid to me) ((FOUR HOURS LATER: i told monty lololol)) ALSO FOR FUCKS SAKE I think madison is gonna go, and truthfully, im fine with it because it's the easiest thing to do due to her poor performance in the past few challenges and just being the least AROUND the tribe, but i know that it'd probably be better for me long term to get rid of abby because i just dont see her as a long term ally for me. i think she's close to JJ and Megan on the other tribe, and she's becoming much more acclimated to the tumblr survivor community that i just BET that she maybe has an additional connection on the rookie tribe. If I can attempt to break that up before we get to a swap, I think that's what im going to have to do figure out if we lose another challenge before a swap... i dont really want to see ANYBODY else go besides abby if im thinking about a second boot. i bet it wont be easy to take her out tho also, if madison goes, this is like...... lowkey vindication for game changers???? last night i talked about this with monty and i was like hmmmm "is it ugly to bring up past game history?" and his response was "not if it's within the same series" .... so. vindication

---

omg i just told madison how to find the idol system thing i hope she doesnt tell anyone i told her about it LMAO........ this almost seems too easy.i got added to two alliances today. why do i not feel safe? is it me going? WTF IS GOING ON

excited to be first boot because no one will TALK TO ME! 

Things haven’t changed much since my last confessional! As far as I know the tribe hasn’t started into alliances and we’re all riding some excitement at having so far avoided tribal. I think the rest of the tribe and I are all feeling good and just focusing on making the tribe switch without losing any members.

from round 2 https://youtu.be/fk002uG2HoI

Hi sorry I forgot to do a confessional this round so this will be short imma just say a few things 1. I don’t trust julian one bit he can stop being shady to me 2. I can’t believe we aren’t going to tribal I’m so fkn happy i was able to pull out the win for our tribe because I didn’t want to lose anybody else 3. I love and adore will with all of my being and he’s my number 1 ally right now 4. I find it highly doubtful that there’s only one idol in this game and that you can’t find it until merge but that’s as far as I can get in the idol search for now so I guess there’s nothing I can do about it 5. I’m still having fun can’t wait to fuck up another flash game yay!!!

My Purple edit is amazing right now. But having played more games than most of these newbies, I have decided to take on the role of teacher and becoming more of a "role model" for these newbies. I feel like I have the closest bond with Zach, and I need to get a little closer with Collin. I have Grace from past games, and then there are the others who I do not really have any strong bonds with at the moment. I guess I need to start going to them more and show that I want to work with them.

https://youtu.be/yhwXzqrTcsA Confessional 2 for round 2

https://youtu.be/TVnpwqc8XLY

Madison voted out 6-1

[emmaaspris]

♡‘Post - it’ - Workshop

25 / 03 / 2020

Equipment: 

Post it notes 

 Black 0.3 and 0.2 fine liner

 Blue highlighter 

 Watercolour 

 Watercolour brush

The aims of this session was to make panelled illustrations based on observation and ideas based on general ideas and sketching. We also were to create at least 6 drawn and inked post it note panels, each one based on a different subject. Then, using these we had to build a non-sequential comic using these panels. Then we were to make a group comic using yours and somebody else’s post it notes. This was to help us think about how we make sense of the world and put non-sequential images together to make sense. When creating our panels, it’s important to keep thinking back to the Gestalt Theory, making sure we are showing an appropriate response. 

Comic Definition:

 Juxtaposed pictorial and other images in deliberate sequence, intended to convey information and/or to produce an aesthetic response in the viewer. 

So what is the Gestalt Theory?

‘Gestalt’ is a psychological term that means ‘unified whole’ and it refers to the way we see or perceive things. This theory was formed by German psychologists in the late 1920′s. It’s based around the idea that everything we look at, we put into groups or unified according to their similarity or shape. For example, when I look at the picture below, specifically at Closure, I see the triangle the most, even though the shape isn’t really there. The black dots and the cuts in them are creating an illusion with the negative space and turning it into a closed off, simple triangle. This is the way that our brains fill in the blanks for us when things don’t seem to make sense upon first glance. 

Back to the task, our first instruction was to react and sketch based on visual prompts. We were encouraged to use our imaginations, but don’t take something completely out of the blue. I wanted to make sure that I had a reason behind every post it note drawing and I will talk about that here. I began looking at the bullet point list that our tutor had given us and sketched ideas that first came to my mind. Amidst the corona virus situation, I went out for a walk and took pictures of daffodils I noticed growing around the place. I planned to incorporate them into my work somehow. Tis workshop felt like a good opportunity. After sketching out the daffodil I decided to give it an emotion to make it weird and wonderful. Almost surreal! 

The list we were given were:

Objects & tools

Icons of Inspiration

Characters & Alter egos 

 Motivational words & Wisdom

 Emotions & Expressions

 Weird & Wonderful

The motivational words I didn’t think too hard about. ‘You’ve got this’ came to my mind straight away and I stuck with it. 

The first drawing I did was of the view I see from my window. Although it didn’t fit into the bullet point list we were given, it was still different enough to the rest that I thought it would work anyway. After that I worked on ‘you got this’, for the motivational words bullet point. Those words came to my mind immediately. They’re like a quick believe in yourself motivation that I find really helpful for when you feel disheartened about something. The next one was referenced from daffodils I saw on my walk the other day. I took a picture of them because I thought they were really pretty. I decided to put it under the category of weird and wonderful, so I attempted a surreal idea of giving it can expression. With this, I chose to juxtapose the daffodil’s positive connotation of spring and sunshine with something dark with heavy eye-liner. I think this contrast worked well and I am pleased with the result. 

For the inspirations, I spent a while trying to think of how to incorporate people I look up to into a small drawing. So then I decided to go for a different approach and worked on the idea of inspiration connotating with admiration and then infatuation? This is what led me to draw the eye with the light bulb in the middle, staring in amazement at the viewer but then tears of petals because they feel like they could never become someone like the person they’re admiring. 

The paintbrush was the first thing that came to my mind under tools. Then the last one was the one I spent most time on, inspired by the mix of alter ego and expressions. I have a personal own character who deals with two identities. One where he’ s transformed into this inky vigilante and the other being a lonely guy with no friends other than Steve, the parasite-like monster that’s obsessed with ice cream and making Cipper’s like miserable. I won’t get into them too much, just enough to give some context. I wanted to create something really deep and I first started with a sketch of a sad expression, but in the end I went a bit further. Although drowning isn’t an emotion, I drew a desperate expression of terror. I wanted to make him look uncomfortable being smothered and doesn’t look like he can quite handle it. 

As someone who doesn’t usually draw quite dramatically dark stuff, this was new for me. But I enjoyed it and liked the outcome. 

After that, our next task was to put them together and rearrange them into a sequence, then try to make sense of them. Here is my arrangement: 

From where my mind tries to fill in the blanks, I interpret it this way. “You’ve got this” they said, but does she? Her tears were welling up quickly, grieving tears spilling over her cheeks as she mourned for the person she knew she could ever become. It was enough to form rivers, her tears suddenly pouring into the world and creating oceans in their wake. As the tears touched nature, flowers took their first breath of life. But from the deep of the ground came the monsters the tears had awoken. Hungry for more, they sought out the helpless to greedily feast on their worst nightmares. 

I don’t know when my interpretations started becoming so dark but I promise quarantine isn’t making me crazy. 

Group Sequence: 

Despite that all the panels are so different, does it work as a comic? I think it does! To me, my interpretation of this is a struggle in seeing the positive side of things. Like an enthusiasm for something it great, but it’s only temporary. I think it’s possible to also interpret this as in someone is trying to make a change in their life but can’t. The eye with the heart in the beginning being a sudden love for something (in this instance, smoking) and then there’s this sort of nothing-ness and suddenly everything revolves around the next cigarette. A friend comes along and gives support to get them out of the addiction. But they re-lapse. Then 2020 is a new year. Suddenly they’re even more determined to make the change. 

What this has taught me: 

In conclusion, I definitely understand the Gestalt Theory, as it makes sense that our brains will fill in the blanks for us where it seems that nothing makes sense. This makes me think about how humans like the genre of mystery and detective work. Filling in the blanks an solving things as a narrative has been a highly successful theme in entertainment. This theory is something I definitely want to look further into, because of my planned mystery narrative. This has also helped me when thinking about the way I could set out my comic (which is one of the final outcomes that I want.) I should infer some of the clues and panels here and there, not completely spell out what is happening to the viewer. 

[drunkenonmysofa]

THE LAST CONVERSATION (A MICHAEL CLIFFORD IMAGINE)

+mobile masterlist

there’s a part one here but you dont have to read it to understand this.

summary: in which you run into the boys and have a heartbreaking conversation with your old best friend, michael.

requested?: hell yeaaaa

word count: 4,564 (my longest so far!! i got carried away lol)

warnings: this is angsty as hell get ready

To fall in love was an easy thing to do. It was gradual, a friendship slowly building up with passion and fire. Although it was easy get in, it was another thing to get out of love.

You were sure that you’ll get over him when you went to his wedding. Because then you’d get closure and go on with your life. You’d move on and love another person. Yet that doesn’t seem to be the case here.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nick asked, his eyebrows furrowing at your distant stare into what seemed like nothing. His words shook you out of your thoughts, so you send him a half-hearted smile and a reassuring nod.

“I’m okay. Just thinking.” You told your boyfriend, clutching his hand briefly so that he’d be more than content with your answer. Although he didn’t fully believe you, he forced himself to trust your answer. He knew you were keeping something from him, and if you kept your secret for so long, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. He couldn’t lose you; he’s loved you for 8 months and he couldn’t necessarily just throw it all away.

You’ve been quiet for the past few days, contradicting the first seven months that you were so comfortable and loud whenever he’s around. Nick thought it was going okay—he thought you were doing great—but now it just seemed like an illusion. Your boyfriend’s so sure that the reason for your reserved self—and it’s that damned baby shower invitation that came into the mail a week ago.

“I’m going for a snack run, do you want anything?” You asked Nick, a soft but forced smile on your face as you put your sweater on. He asked for his favourite chips and kissed you goodbye as you exited your shared apartment.

You had to admit to yourself that you did truly like Nick. He had this comfort around him that you found rare these days, and he was one of the very few people who actually helped you move on from someone you used to love.

At least, you thought you were over him.

Almost a year ago, you attended the wedding of your old best friend. Though you initially thought it would help you move on and get closure, it only brought more pain. You still remembered how it felt to see him speak his vows to his bride, it was as if a dull knife was digging into your skin.

Michael Gordon Clifford. That name was still engraved into your being. You couldn’t carve it out—it seemed as if it was permanently etched onto your brain, your heart, your skin. He was everywhere.

Of course, Nick made his way into your heart. For the time being, at least. You kept promising yourself to break up with him, because it didn’t seem fair at all. But he was distracting you from Michael, and the alleviation was something you deemed you needed. Still, it was selfish, but your boyfriend didn’t seem to mind. If he did, he would’ve left long ago.

This type of behaviour was new. You were never like this, at least when you got into a relationship with Nick. It was like something had triggered your memories with Michael. And to be frank, something really did.

When the baby shower invitation first came into the mail, you didn’t mind it. Because it looked like an invitation from Nick’s coworker or friend, but when your boyfriend brought it up at dinner, you had to stop yourself from choking on the pasta. A name you haven’t heard for so long has left Nick’s lips, and made you a mess internally.

It wasn’t like you forgot Michael for the past 8 months, you just barely acknowledged him. After all, you can’t really forget someone who’s technically been in your whole life up until three years ago. He remained to show up in your Instagram feed from time to time, but you quickly scroll past the posts. You still couldn’t bring yourself to cut your all ties off, you felt as if you weren’t ready.

And, of course, there was the occasional text messages from Lauren, Michael’s wife, greeting you every few months. You concluded that Michael told her about the past years that you were inseparable, as well as the fact that you were a big part of his life although the friendship stayed platonic.

This thought led you wondering if Michael also told her that he confessed his love for you three years ago. And that you never told him that you reciprocated his feelings, not even trying to talk to him until nine months later in the middle of December, when you ran into Michael and his girlfriend-turned-wife. After a few minutes of painful, painful small talk, Lauren ended the conversation by asking for your number as they had to continue their holiday shopping. You gave them the number with no reluctance, and you swore you could see a glint in Michael’s eyes.

Although you didn’t know, the only thing on Michael’s mind at that moment was hurt. Because that’s why he couldn’t contact you anymore. You changed your number.

Michael didn’t text you at all. It was Lauren who frequented on reaching out to you even though the text messages popped out once in a blue moon. And when the wedding invitation came through the mail, you were more than surprised. Shocked, even. But that feeling didn’t even amount to when Lauren called you a few hours later to ask you to be a bridesmaid.

You didn’t want to go through with it at all. But Lauren was the bride, after all. She also told you that Michael gave her the greenlight, so you thought to yourself, why not? Of course, there were a lot of reasons why you shouldn’t go, but you blatantly ignored it and went anyway.

It didn’t end well, with you crying in the arms of Calum Hood, one of your closest friends. You rode a taxi on the way home earlier than usual as Calum texted you that he would cover for you in your absence.

You had hoped that the love you felt for Michael would fade in time, but that wasn’t the case here.

Being an undeniably nice person was sometimes the reason as to why you became a pushover. You never usually retorted back or said no to people who would get hurt by your rejection. It was one of the reasons why Nick was in your life, not that you regret anything, you just wished he would’ve come sooner (since you weren’t exactly over Michael yet), and it was one of the reasons why you went to Michael’s wedding.

Now, it’s one of the reasons why you’re at a supermarket, staring into the fridge of ice cream, deep in thought. Though you were trying to pick out a flavour of ice cream you’d like, your mind kept wandering off to Lauren’s baby shower.

“My manager has noticed you having trouble. Do you need any help?” Your head snapped to where you heard the voice. You noticed an employee giving you a kind smile.

The thoughts that were previously in your head was interrupted as you replied curtly. “No, thank you.” And with that, the employee left to tend to other customers.

The short exchange shook you out of your trance as your mind remembered the reason why you were here. So, unlike the past ten minutes, you actually start getting the snacks; vanilla ice cream, a few bags of chips, two six-packs of beer, and your comfort food.

As you turned to the candy aisle, you tried to find your favourite brand of gummy bears. When you noticed it, though, you frowned. There it was, in all it’s glory, on the highest rack. You couldn’t reach it because of your short height, but you still tried. Your fingers reached for the pack as you stood in your tippy toes, small groans emitting from your throat as the situation annoyed the hell out of you.

A hand took the pack of gummy bears from the rack for you, giving it as they chuckled. You sighed in relief, turning to him to give him thanks.

You were met with a mop the most familiar blonde hair, right above the face of an old friend. “You’re still into those?” He chuckled, gesturing to the candy in your basket. “You know those are bad for your teeth, Y/N. I told you a thousand times…” He trailed off.

A smile crept on your face. You recognized him as soon as you turned. “Shut up, Luke.” The reply brings a big grin on his features.

“You haven’t grown at all since I last saw you,” Luke refers to last year, when you spoke to him briefly at Michael’s wedding while simultaneously teasing you about your height. The mention of the wedding makes your smile falter a bit, yet he thankfully doesn’t notice. “But you’re still as beautiful. I’ll give you that, at least.”

The electric blue eyes of Luke Robert Hemmings still reminds you of the ocean even after you stopped talking. You weren’t one to talk to someone unless they approached you first—so when you distanced yourself from Michael, Luke and you got disconnected as well. Luke was never one to approach first, either. But when you do talk, it’s like you’ve known each other since birth, despite meeting him at 9th grade when he and Michael decided to be friends rather than enemies.

He, too, knows how you feel towards Michael. But he rarely acknowledges it, because, unlike Calum, he chose to not mention it as he knew that fact made you feel uncomfortable.

“Always so flirty, Hemmings.” You giggled, slightly blushing at his words.

“You know, the boys are waiting for me at Macca’s. Wanna come?” He inquired with a small smile on his face. “I could wait until you’ve finished paying for your stuff. I’m sure the other guys would want to catch up with you.”

You couldn’t say no, especially to the boys. Though you didn’t necessarily want to see Michael right now, you still missed them. It’s been a year since you saw them in person, so you couldn’t deny a simple hang out, even though it would probably last for only a few minutes.

Since the supermarket wasn’t so busy, you finished paying for your stuff earlier than usual. Your nerves were building up as seconds passed. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself but for once in your life, you wanted a long line of people waiting their turn for the cashier, because then you wouldn’t be able to see Michael sooner.

“You alright, Y/N?” Luke questions from beside you, eyeing you with concern. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I’m fine,” You replied. “It’s just… I haven’t seen you guys in a while and I’m afraid that it’ll be weird.”

“You still talk to Calum, though, right? And it’s fine. They’ll be ecstatic to see you.” Luke said and put some of his own stuff (which was just a few bags of chips) into your basket so that he could pull out his phone. “Here, I’ll give them a heads up.” He types out a message to the boys’ groupchat, showing you the text he sent right after.

You sighed in defeat. “Yeah, whatever.” Luke chuckles at your less than unenthusiastic reply as you gave the basket of junk food to the cashier. “Also, yeah, me and Calum talk from time to time, but we never really meet up. He’s always busy producing music.”

“Did he tell you that he got a girlfriend? She’s English.”

“God, yes. It’s literally all he’s been talking about for the past few facetimes…”

The conversation flowed with Luke smoothly, it was as if you never stopped talking at all. It was weird, to be frank, but seeing him cheered you up and made you momentarily forget about your decision on whether or not you wanted to attend the baby shower.

Luke offered to carry all the paper bags that held all the junkfood and you reluctantly agreed, since he ignored all your rejections and repeatedly insisted that it’s the least he could do for not talking with you for a long time.

Your answers and replies got shorter as you neared the fast food chain. Luke noticed it, but decided against bringing it up, trying to make you laugh instead.

When you entered the boys’ line of sight, you’d imagine more of an awkward stare. You would wave politely at them as they waved back. But that wasn’t the case here.

As soon as Calum saw you, which was the second you walked into the restaurant, he jumped from his seat, running to you until he’s engulfed you into a hug. “Oh my God, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I was in town.” He said, his voice muffled as he buried his head into the crook of your neck. You giggled at his abrupt greeting, hugging him back just as tight before you both let go. “You look as horrible as ever.” He joked, putting an arm around your shoulders as you playfully scowled at him, swatting his hand off of you.

Ashton was quick to come up to you too as soon as you were six feet away from the table they shared. He gave you a brief hug with a smile on his face. “It’s so good to see you, Y/N.” You said the same to him, an equally big smile on your face. Subconciously, your eyes drifted to the table.

And there he was. A black beanie was wrapped around his head with a few locks of his blonde hair sticking out messily. You haven’t seen him in person in such a long time, you actually got caught off guard at his appearance. His hair definitely got longer, he got a stubble, and he drfinitely looked mature. Though the features looked new—you were still struck with familiarity.

It was Michael Clifford, after all. You couldn’t forget him if you tried.

In an attempt to avoid an awkward conversation, you try and strike up small talk with the other three boys. Though it was cut short as Michael stood up from the table and approached you, a small smile on his ever so familiar pink lips.

“Hey,” He gently tugged on the end of your hair, averting your attention to him. It takes you a few seconds to collect yourself because you feel the nostalgic aching in your chest that you haven’t felt in a long period of time. Michael noticed your hesitance, but mistakes it for confusion. “What, no hugs for Mikey?”

The teasing question catches you off guard, but despite the nagging in the back of your head telling you that this was a mistake, you laughed. It’s somewhat fake—but Michael doesn’t need to know. “You haven’t changed, haven’t you?” The words left your lips in a happy tone, but it felt like venom in your mouth. He changed—he definitely did, but maybe, maybe if you keep telling yourself that he didn’t then it would come true.

“You know I haven’t.” Michael smiled, engulfing you in a big hug. It takes you by surprise, but you barely hesitate to hug back. He was always big on physical affection. There wasn’t a time when Michael didn’t hug you at least once when you frequented hanging out. It was one of your favourite things about him.

Unlike the embrace you shared at his wedding a few months back, the hug was long and tight; as if it was something you both longed for. And in a way, it was.

“You’re squeezing me,” You joked, a smile, a genuine smile creeping on your face. Michael released you with a slight chuckle.

You don’t know why this is more comfortable than your encounter back at the wedding. You’re uncertain if it’s because of Lauren’s absence or the boys’ presence, but you know one thing’s for sure.

It’s not as hard to pretend that nothing’s wrong compared to a long time ago.

Next thing you know, you’re all squeezed into one booth, eating unhealthy food like you did back in high school. The guys were telling you stories about the recent events in their lives, words smoothly flowing as the air seemed lighter and happier. For once in a long time, you don’t feel regret.

“How about you, Y/N?” Luke asked, a grin forming on his face. “Any special people?” He wiggled his eyebrows, earning a small laugh from you.

The brief mention of Nick in the presence of someone you loved—and still love—for the past few years makes you squirm in your seat, though it looks like they didn’t notice. It takes you a few seconds to answet him. “Yeah… his name’s Nick.”

In less than an hour, the conversation abruptly ends with a phone call from your boyfriend. He tells you to come home since it’s about to be rush hour and you hastily agreed. “Leaving so soon?” Calum speaks up right after you end your call with your boyfriend, a sad smile on his face, knowing full well that it’ll be a long time until you see each other again.

“Yeah, m'sorry.” You pouted, standing up from the table as Calum follows suit. “Call soon, okay?” The phrase was a goodbye that both of you used often, a habit that you never seemed to outgrow. You never did like goodbyes, anyways.

After your hug with Calum, the other two boys wave you off with big smiles on their faces as they wished you a safe ride home. Michael, though, also stood up. “I’ll walk you to your car.” He stated, taking the bag of snacks from your arms.

Since the mall wasn’t that big, you were in the car park in a matter of five minutes. The walk wasn’t uncomfortable—just silent. It seemed as if Michael didn’t know what to say and vice versa. Though, as you approached closer to your car, Michael starts a conversation that you would later lose sleep over.

“Y/N,” The blonde said, making you snap your gaze towards him. “What happened?”

His question catches you off guard. You don’t exactly know what he’s talking about, but you have a general idea. “Hm?” With eyebrows raised, you looked at him in confusion.

“It’s been almost three years.” Michael stared in front of him, trying to avoid your stare. “I told you I loved you then you left. Just like that.”

The mention of the unspeakable event makes you shudder. Your gaze drops to your shoes in guilt. It’s hard to say anything. You couldn’t muster up even a simple apology to him as the familiar aching in your chest returns.

Michael noticed your silence, so he keeps talking. “I tried so fucking hard to talk to you, Y/N.” His words are like daggers in your chest. “But you tried to avoid me like I was the plague. You even changed your number. At one point you blocked me out of everything.” Michael’s voice cracks, and even though you’re not looking at him, you know he’s struggling to fight the tears just as you are. “If it wasn’t for us bumping into each other then you wouldn’t even unblock me.”

“Car,” You told him, not bothering to look at him as you entered the driver’s seat and he enters the passenger’s. If the tension in the air wasn’t thick, it sure was now. It was almost as if you could cut a knife through it. You remained quiet after you said the word.

“I just…” He sniffled. You felt your heart break iinto a million pieces as tears brimmed your eyes. “I just want to know why.”

“I… I’m not sure—” You muttered under your breath but it was loud enough for him to hear.

“Don’t,” Michael said, his voice turning stern. “I deserve an explanation rather than an ‘I’m not sure’.” The phrase angered him, but still, the hurt remained. His gaze burns into the side of your skull.

“I was scared, Michael!” You exclaimed, hot tears running down your cheeks. Michael’s breath hitches at the tone of your voice but his stare on you stays fixed. Though, your eyes keep their hold on the empty car park in front of you, trying their best to avoid him. Your voice becomes softer. “I was scared that one day, you’d wake up and not love me anymore. I can’t live with that.”

“Then you should be dead by now.” Michael muttered, making you avert your eyes toward him. His gaze falls back onto the scene in front of him as you caught his bloodshot eyes. “I spent so many days wondering what could’ve been if you loved me.”

“But I did love you.”

“Did you love me when you left without a word?” Michael’s tone sounds defeated. “Did you love me when you ended our friendship?”

“Michael…”

“Did you love me when I said I loved you?” Michael sighed, resting his head against the window beside him. You’re trembling, out of guilt, sadness, and anger towards yourself. You can’t stand to see him like this, and the fact that you induced it made you hate yourself even more.

“I love you, Michael. I still do…. I don’t think anything would ever stop that.” You said weakly as you tore your gaze off him. “I’m sorry.”

“I loved you, Y/N. For the longest time.” Michael paused. “Then I realized that this is the way it should be.”

You don’t say anything, but the whimpers escaping your lips says a thousand words.

“We didn’t have the right timing, did we?” He joked and chuckled lightly, but there was no humour in the situation. “You want to know something?” There was no words from you, but a glance told him that you did. “I don’t regret anything. I don’t regret falling in love with you, Y/N.”

A relieved laugh escaped from your lips out of sudden happiness, but the tears are still streaming down your face. “I don’t regret falling in love with you either.”

Michael figets with the gold band on his ring finger. “Back when we were seventeen, do you remember when you were confined because of the car crash?” You slowly nod, wiping away the tears on your face. “I was the first person that saw you wake up since the accident. I felt like the luckiest man on the planet.” Michael grinned softly at the memory, the tears now stopped. “Then you gave me the happiest smile. That’s the first time I knew I loved you.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” You quietly said. “But… are you happy?”

“The happiest I’ve ever been.” Michael smiled. “Are you?”

“To be honest?” You let out a dry laugh. “I don’t know.”

His hand makes it’s was to your upper arm, a familiar gesture of comfort that you had both adapted. You don’t feel butterflies and it doesn’t seem romantic, but you find a snippet of home and belonging in his simple touch. Despite the growing distance between you. “The world is not that big of a shitshow.”

“Wait for it.” You joked, giving Michael a small grin. He released your arm and puts down the bag on the floor of the passenger’s seat.

Michael sniffs. “Take care, okay?” And before you could even reply, he’s out the door, walking away with his back facing you. You don’t know for sure, but it looked like he was wiping his face as he walked.

With a burst of confidence and desperation, you get out of the car and run after him, the tapping of your shoes against the floor echoing in the slightest. He doesn’t notice you at first, but he does when you hug him from behind. The waterworks start again. “Michael, don’t leave, please. Please,” You whimpered. “Choose me, please.”

You could feel the beat of his heart as you hugged him. It was fast as his labored breaths. “I love her.” His words break your heart. “You have to let me go.” Your arms are pried off him and he breaks free from your hold. He turned around with new tears falling onto his rosy cheeks.

“We can’t end like this.”

“We never even started, Y/N.” Michael shook his head in disappointment. “Look at me,” He cups your cheeks in his warm hands, making you fix your eyes on his. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

“Michael—”

He cuts off your stubbornness. “Promise.”

“… I promise.” You hesitantly said. As soon as the two words leave your lips, Michael engulfs you in his arms once again as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “I guess this is goodbye, isn’t it?” You whispered. Michael lets go of you and nods slowly. “Take care, Michael Clifford.”

“Keep your promise, Y/N Y/L/N.” And he leaves. He never really liked goodbyes as well.

The ride on the way home is quiet, apart from the faint music coming from your car radio. The tears on your cheeks had dried because of the air conditioning, and surprisingly, you don’t find yourself crying. When you enter your apartment, Nick’s already asleep on the couch as the TV plays a football game. Despite feeling sleepless, you go to your bedroom and nestle yourself under the sheets.

You don’t sleep for a few hours, replaying the conversation in your head over and over again. You kept going through what you should’ve said that could make him stay, but you realize it’s too late now.

Your thoughts wander to the baby shower. In a haste, you pull out your phone text Lauren an apology because you decided to not go. You didn’t know how you’d react to Lauren and her baby bump, but theres a high chance that it would break you.

It was going to be a long process, but you had to get over Michael. You had to face your fears this time in order to take care of yourself. Going over what you should do, you concluded that you shouldn’t be in a relationship with Nick if you only considered him a distraction. But you decide to do it in the morning instead.

Maybe, in a few years’ time, you’d meet the love of your life and start a family with him. And if he asked about the people you fell in love with, you’d tell the story of you and Michael. Perhaps you’d do it without hesitance and with a smile on your face, because even though he’s the one that got away, he would still be the greatest what if in your life.

But now, as you’re huddled under the duvet and you’re losing sleep over him, you tell yourself to keep his promise. No matter how hard it is. Even if it takes two hours of crying or three tubs of ice cream or morning jogs. You will take care of yourself.

And you can’t wait until the familiar green eyes start to remind you of beautiful trees instead of heartbreak.

[parrots-not-in-london-anymore]

Hello! There were haha, rip those messages. I had been trying to pinpoint what was making me so wary about the idea of thomas being alive, bc? it should be a good thing! Its thomas! Flint loves him! & read what you said about how he'd be a stranger-to flint & the audience. Its exactly what?? made me almost uncomfortable as soon as it was brought up on the show. Thomas being alive would be amazing but it wud also be, strange?

Oh that’s a bitch! I always get fucking furious when Tumblr eats shit I’ve written -.- I’m sorry :( 

Now about my thoughts on Thomas. I’ll paraphrase a convo I had with @ellelan​ that really helped me crystallise what bothers me about it.  

Here’s the deal: there’s no such thing as going back in time.  

I feel Flint should move FORWARD not backwards. I think his whole problem is his obsession with the past.

And either the writers use that against us (which would be the smart move) or they decide to erase 10 years like it didn’t happen (unlikely and very obtuse). I also think it gives Silver the flimsiest of excuses to get rid of Flint. Suddenly, its “well I gotta send him to the farm up state to live with his true love" 

But I think Silver and Flint are more intelligent than that, regarding this possibility of Thomas. I would hope they were, anyways. 

As appealing as the notion of “happily ever after” may be, I cannot believe Silver and Flint would not immediately acknowledge what I acknowledged: that Thomas wont be the same man he was and that Flint most certainly is not the man he was.

Its like me going back to my high-school sweetheart and suddenly be in a relationship with this person 10 YEARS after we had a crush on each other. I’ve seen him now. The pull is there but its the pull toward something that doesn’t exist anymore. He isn’t the person he was when we were in school. And neither am I! Its just… nostalgia. Wishful thinking. The loss of what might’ve been. Missing what cannot be. 

Like Dumbledore once told Harry, when he was obsessed with looking at his parents in that mirror that showed you what you wanted: “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.” Stop looking at the reflection of your dead parents in that mirror, you dumb kid, GO LIVE! 

And how terrifying is the possibility of this reunion? Which is what I thought was very interesting in that meta post I replied to. How terrifying would that be for Flint? To have to face the person in whose name he claims he did all this? And actually get it from the horse’s mouth if his actions over the course of 10 years were justified? I think Flint might say NO THANK YOU to that faster than Silver can offer the possibility to him. Because he knows Thomas would NOT approve.

But the possibility of closure… is a very powerful temptation, isn’t it? The possibility of absolution? Validation? And on top of that there’s also the lies we tell ourselves. That maybe, JUST maybe, we CAN go back to how things were; we CAN have it again. And all of that presents an amazing storytelling opportunity. I can see that now. 

Using Thomas to cut through Flint’s self-delusion is a great idea and its gonna HURT LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. Good luck everyone! 

So its either gonna be a cop out of Flints comeuppance or its gonna be a tragedy that overshadows all other tragedies and I just… I need them to focus on the NOW and not the before. It just changes the stakes completely.

I fear it may cheapen what there is between Silver and Flint. 

Silver is the most important relationship for Flint now. James McGraw doesn’t exist anymore. Flint does. And if I’m forced to watch as Flint abandons Silver and his life in Nassau for some illusion of going back in time… I’m gonna be PISSED.

Because Silver loves him for who he is now. The terrible, terrible man he is in the present. And not who he was.  

I fear Flint might try to “chase the sunset” like I wrote in my fic. I fear this introduction of Thomas will drive him to that. To chase what cannot be. A dream. A memory. A tainted idea of Thomas in his head. And be absolutely destroyed by what he finds. 

Because if he couldn’t let go of this damn idea for Nassau, how the fuck is he gonna let go of THAT one? 

[junker-town]

Shohei Ohtani is back, and baseball is good unless you’re the Orioles

It was a good week for baseball, unless you happen to be on the Orioles or a fan of the Orioles.

We’ve passed the mathematical halfway point of the 2018 MLB season. We’re approaching the figurative halfway point of the 2018 MLB season. And I’m not sure if any of us really know what’s going on.

[production assistant hands me an index card with nothing but MAX MUNCY in 30-point font]

Look, I don’t have time for this, please send your note through the appropriate channels. It’s hard enough to check the standings every day, much less all of the individual performances.

Watching videos until my eyes bleed? Oh, sure, I can do that. And it’s this sort of curation that keeps us coming back every week to review the previous seven days and 100 games of baseball. Because if we don’t do that, we’ll never get the chance to remember that ...

Baseball is good, actually

Click here for the video if you’ve discovered this on Google AMP or Apple News or Lycos Lynx. It’s worth it.

For on the first pitch of a game between the Orioles and Twins, Jake Cave made a stellar catch.

Your browser does not support HTML5 video.

It is our solemn right to pretend that the first pitch of a ballgame is more important than it actually is. Listen to the crowd cheer extra loud for that first called strike, as if to say, “Yes, good, everything seems to be in order.” And when that first pitch is hit over the fence, the pitcher on the mound has to hear the sound of tens of thousands of people rolling their eyes at the same time. We paid $150 for this.

Don’t forget to appreciate the actual catch, though. If you grew up playing baseball or softball, I’m sure at one point, you positioned yourself under a short fence and had a friend throw a ball just over it. Usually your idiot friend would throw it too high or low or off to the side, and you could never get it just right. Then after several unremarkable failures, you would have to go over the fence and retrieve all the baseballs, feeling stupid the whole time. I never did make one of those catches, even when I was trying to.

I think I might go to a park and have my daughter throw some balls just over the fence. I need closure.

Cave was ready on the first pitch to live our dreams for us. He was ready. He was capable. And the ball just happened to be in the perfect spot

Baseball is a hideous gully monster, actually

The decision to watch an Orioles game on purpose right now has to come with a long, extended sigh that resonates from deep within your toes. Within five seconds, you’re reminded that the taste of ash and feathers in your mouth is coming from the ash and feathers in your mouth. The Orioles shoveled it in there when you were sleeping.

The Orioles are in the middle of a six-game losing streak. It’s their fifth-longest losing streak of the season.

The Red Sox haven’t had a losing streak of six games or longer since 2015.

The Orioles are on pace to lose 11 more games than the 1988 team that lost 21 straight games to open the season. If they have to lose an obscene number of games, fine, pluck their nose hairs out on live TV. But don’t rob them of a homer on the first pitch.

That’s just being a jerk, baseball.

Let us study this baseball thing

Jeff Mathis pitched for the Diamondbacks on Sunday and got the loss.

On its own, this probably isn’t worthy of study. Position players pitch a lot more now, which suggests they’re likelier to come into close games. What we need to figure out is how hosed a team has to be in order to rely on a position player in extra innings.

Pretty hosed.

Stop that. All I’m saying is that we need to know what inning managers usually give up. We’ll look at the last 10 occurrences because it’s the golden era of mid-inning pitching changes, which increases the chances of a manager running out of pitchers. We’ll also limit our search to that many because I’m lazy.

Jeff Mathis Inning: 16th Score: 3-3 Result: Loss (1 ER) Pitchers used prior to entrance: 9 Did a starter enter in relief? Yes

Of note is that Wil Myers described Mathis as having the best stuff of any position player he’s ever faced.

Also of note: He’s only faced one other position player in the majors, which means his quote was basically a honking, rude subtweet of Dean Anna.

Ryan Goins Inning: 18th Score: 1-1 Result: No decision (0 ER) Pitchers used prior to entrance: 8 Did a starter enter in relief? No

Darwin Barney Inning: 19th Score: 1-1 Result: Loss (1 ER) Pitchers used prior to entrance: 9, if you count Ryan Goins Did a starter enter in relief? No

John Baker Inning: 16th Score: 3-3 Result: Win (0 ER) Pitchers used prior to entrance: 8 Did a starter enter in relief? No

Also of note: Baker scored the winning run because he’s a proper legend.

Leury Garcia Inning: 14th Score: 4-4 Result: Loss (2 ER) Pitchers used prior to entrance: 8 Did a starter enter in relief? No

Casper Wells Inning: 18th Score: 7-7 Result: Loss (5 ER) Pitchers used prior to entrance: 9 Did a starter enter in relief? Yes

Also of note: He was relieved by utility infielder John McDonald, who allowed one of the inherited runners to score.

Darnell McDonald Inning: 17th Score: 6-6 Result: Loss (3 ER) Pitchers used prior to entrance: 8 Did a starter enter in relief? No

Also of note: McDonald was facing off against Chris Davis, also a position player. Wouldn’t you love to read more about this game? Well, lucky you.

Chris Davis Inning: 16th Score: 6-6 Result: Win (2 IP, 0 ER) Pitchers used prior to entrance: 8 Did a starter enter in relief? No

Also of note: Davis’ changeup was so good, it made this dude squeeze his own armpit:

Felipe Lopez Inning: 18th Score: 0-0 Result: No decision (0 ER) Pitchers used prior to entrance: 8 Did a starter enter in relief? No

Also of note: Skipper should have let him pitch another inning.

Joe Mather Inning: 19th Score: 0-0 Result: Loss (2 IP, 2 ER) Pitchers used prior to entrance: 9, including Felipe Lopez Did a starter enter in relief? No

Also of note: I can’t think of his name without thinking about this post.

“In life, you have to make your own trails!” he shouted as he bounded off into the clearing, the thirsty joemather crunching under his bare feet.

No, it’s not funny. I literally think of “the thirsty joemather crunching under his bare feet” whenever I stumble across Joe Mather’s name.

If one day I stop writing about baseball, don’t wonder why. Just know that I was someone who would accidentally stumble across Joe Mather’s name.

Anyway, what did we learn? That I wanted to link to a bunch of box scores of these extremely cool games. But also that Mathis came in slightly before the typical position player in a close game, but not egregiously so. That most managers will use a position player before they use a starting pitcher on an off day. And that most of these guys didn’t do well, probably because they aren’t pitchers.

I would suggest that the trick is to have one reliever who can pitch five innings in any given game, except the Diamondbacks had that with Jorge De La Rosa, and they used him for seven pitchers. The real trick is to see through time, and if that doesn’t work, sigh a lot and hope for a better fate than poor Jeff Mathis, who was one strike away from an amazing outing.

This week in appreciating the efforts of a husky fellow who tried really, really hard

Jesús Aguilar is a husky fellow having a breakout season, and he can do a lot of things for a winning team. He can hit dingers, hit homers, hit baseballs over the fence, and also hit baseballs super far. Yes, he can also hit for average, apparently, and he can play both first and a corner outfield spot, but for the most part, he’s not in there for his hit-and-run skills. He’s there to hit baseballs a long way.

He’s not there to run from first to home on a wacky play.

What I appreciate the most on this play:

Eddie Rosario’s throw

Bobby Wilson’s there-there pat

Aguilar turning his head and lying down to take a literal dirt nap as the catcher pats his hand in sympathy

That Aguilar peeks over his shoulder as he rounds third and realizes he’s going to hear it from everyone in the dugout

The tag

That Bobby Wilson is still in the majors and making tags and there-there pats.

This all leads to a new segment that I wasn’t even planning on.

Baseball, but a painting

I call this one “The Death of Jesús of Maracay.”

The catcher reaches out in vain to save his friend, but alas, it is too late. The human-sized streak through the batter’s box represents our mortality. The weird mud bog above home plate that you can see in the video represents a kind of weird mud bog. The guy on the right is the president, watching over us all.

I’m still working on this interpretation, leave me alone.

Bartolo Colon threw a complete game

He lost, but that’s not the point. The 45-year-old is the oldest player to throw a complete game since Jamie Moyer in 2010, and he’s pitching like someone who wants to keep pitching next year. If he does that, he’ll have milestones to chase:

46-year-olds who have thrown a complete game Satchel Paige Phil Niekro Charlie Hough Bobo Newsom Jack Quinn

47-year-olds who have thrown a complete game Phil Niekro Jamie Moyer

48-year-olds who have thrown a complete game Phil Niekro

Of course, Niekro was a knuckleballer, as was Hough. Moyer was a changeup specialist, and Paige was a master of illusion in his old age. When it comes to quadragenarians who rely mostly on differently gripped fastballs, Colon is definitely something of a freak.

I don’t know if he’ll make it to 48 without a knuckleball. But a showing like this at least gives me a teensy sliver of hope that he’ll have a chance. He’s not exactly the perfect baseball hero — let he who is without a PED suspension and a second family throw the first stone — but he’s a pretty danged fun baseball story. And with each complete game, I start hoping just a little bit more.

Baseball picture of the week

The best picture of the week? That was probably taken by Rockies team photographer Matt Dirksen:

This picture is not filtered or Photoshopped. Promise. pic.twitter.com/FOf6aq24vA

— Colorado Rockies (@Rockies) July 6, 2018

I can appreciate the majesty of Charlie Blackmon leaving the cornfield to not invite Ty Cobb to the next game. There are a lot of entrants in the “badass ballpark scenery” genre, which is why baseball is truly for the aesthetically minded, but the sky in this one gives it an extra boost.

Can you get the same kind of majesty from a football game? Yeah. Kinda.

Photo by Justin Edmonds/Getty Images

For my money, the difference is in the stadium or ballpark lurking in the background. If a football goes there, it probably means someone screwed up. But the stands of a baseball game are inactive participants stored with charged energy. If the baseball goes there — and it often does — it makes the entire section buzz. If it’s hit in the right section, it makes the entire ballpark buzz.

Maybe I’m overthinking it? I’m probably overthinking it.

Well, in that case, here are my runners up, in which Billy Hamilton loses six months off his life in the same week:

Photo by David Banks/Getty Images

Photo by Andy Lyons/Getty Images

I don’t know the context of these pictures, and I don’t care to. All I know is that they make baseball seem like some sort of post-apocalyptic sport from a 1974 Roger Corman film called Smash, Smash, Smash, and I’m very interested in this new iteration.

Maybe you should just watch football.

Stop that.

what the shit

https://www.mlb.com/news/twins-record-no-putouts-at-first-base-in-game/c-284106326

When Blanka tries to hit you with a rolling attack, so you slide under him and counter with a hadouken

Photo by Tom Szczerbowski/Getty Images

What Shohei Did

Rose from the disabled and renewed the hope of his wavering team. That’s all. Or, if you want to be technical, he went 3-for-17, with eight strikeouts and a 634 OPS. Which isn’t great.

He still snuck in a game-winning homer, though:

He took a tie game from zero-to-Vasgersian in just over a second, and he’s now 3-for-6 in his pinch-hitting appearances. The biggest surprise this season isn’t that Ohtani has been pitching or hitting as well as he has, but that he’s been used as a pinch-hitter just six times. Just like when it comes to rising gas prices and climate change, I blame the designated hitter. In the National League, he’d get four pinch-hit appearances per week.

But we’re not here to get picky. We’re here to celebrate that Ohtani is playing at all. In the Angels’ walk-off win against the Dodgers, he went from an 0-2 count to a walk, then stole second before scoring on a two-out single. It would be much, much better if he were still Max Scherzer stapled to Cody Bellinger, because that sure was a delight to follow.

Given the choice of watching him only hit or not watching him at all, we’re in the better of the two timelines. I’m not sure if I’ve rooted for anything this season more than the platelet-rich plasma that’s sloshing around his elbow, but even if he’s done pitching for a year, he’ll still be around, reminding us that he’s one of baseball’s rarest talents.

This week in McGwire/Sosa

McGwire 13 AB this week 281 AB for the season

3 HR this week 40 HR for the season

.308/.471/.533 this week .310/.483/.779 for the season

Sosa 16 AB this week 349 AB for the season

2 HR this week 35 HR for the season

.250/.333/.625 this week .321/.382/.665 for the season

All-Star break! Time to rest a bit and JUST KIDDING, IT WAS AT COORS FIELD, AND WE WERE ALL HIGH OFF DINGERS.

Note that there is no apostrophe in that last word, which would have left you in suspense.

If you don’t think baseball was excited to showcase dingers at Coors, you are being a silly contrarian:

And, of course, Sosa didn’t participate and McGwire didn’t make it out of the first round because that’s what happens when you even pretend to care about the Home Run Derby. It will break your heart.

Spoonerism of the week

Okay, so Wookie Milson is maybe — maybe— a 45-grade spoonerism. Yes, it makes you think about Chewbacca, but it’s not really spelled the same way (Wookiee), and “Milson” isn’t inherently funny.

What puts it over the top for me is that you have to pronounce Wookie to rhyme with “Mookie,” which means you have to pronounce it like George Plimpton. And now I’m picturing a movie in which George Plimpton has to take care of an irascible eight-year-old because of circumstances beyond his control, and there’s a scene where he says something like ...

Charles! I command you to pick up your Wookiee.

Except he rhymes it with “Mookie” and I can’t stop laughing at this thought, and the movie also stars Shelley Long as the neighbor and love interest for Plimpton’s adult son and, look, it’s been a long column, and we should probably end it here.

Until next week!

[ludonarrativeassonance-blog]

New Post has been published on Ludonarrative Assonance

http://www.ludonarrativeassonance.com/review-we-are-chicago/

Review: We Are Chicago

By Wesley Scott

Always do the right thing.

According to the Chicago Tribune, 4,368 people were victims of gun violence in the Chicago area during all of 2016. That same year we saw our highest murder rate in twenty years, outperforming New York city by well over 100 deaths. No small feat for a city with roughly a third of their population. As of this writing, during the first 23 days of January, another 231 people have been shot within the city limits. Chicago is an active war zone, has been for years. The police cite widespread gang violence as the overriding cause, and it’s hard to disagree, but why Chicago? Why its young men of color? What are the systemic conditions present here that are driving so much of our population into lives of violent crime?

No easy answers, of course, but the team at Culture Shock has a new game out that hopes to give players some insight into the problems of generational poverty and social inequality present in the underprivileged neighborhoods of Chicago’s south side.

Aaron Davis is a kid with a lot of problems: Graduation. College admittance. A little sister to look after. Friends that aren’t getting along. Oh, and the Gangster Disciples are at war with the other street gangs for control of his block.

We Are Chicago is ambitious, no doubt. It seeks for nothing less than to present the black experience in America as a portraiture in absolute earnest. And while it succeeds in that ambition to its most literal extent it also falls short as a piece of entertainment. That makes it a difficult subject to critique but I’m going to try anyway because that’s what Da Mayor would want. “Always do the right thing” he would say.

I got it. I’m gone.

So, I want to front load the negative stuff here. I wouldn’t ordinarily point something like that out but I want to be clear that what I’m about to write comes with some major caveats later on in my review. I truly believe that We Are Chicago may be worth the time for some but…

Well, it’s ugly as sin. The character models are bland, waxy, glassy-eyed, poorly animated, and badly lip-synched. The world they inhabit looks like something a Counter Strike modder spit out circa 1998. Loads between relatively tiny, sparsely appointed zones are oddly choppy and the graphics options might as well not even be there.

If you’re familiar with modern, dialogue heavy point and click adventure games you’ll know exactly what to expect here. The whole thing is played from a first person perspective from which you select objects and talk with people by choosing dialogue from a tilt wheel that is often time-limited to such a heavy degree that it’s nearly impossible to absorb your options and make a deliberate choice. All interactions take place using one button. There is literally no other input.

An odd stylistic choice has been made to project some dialogue on walls ala Splinter Cell Conviction but it’s inconsistent and more puzzling than affecting. This bleeds over into some other aspects of the design as well and makes a good case for the idea that sometimes less is more.

The voice acting is solid in spots but workmanlike (and the main character is unvoiced which feels jarring in context). Actually, that’s kind of the theme running through the whole presentation. It unceremoniously limps to the finish line but makes a point of dropping that checkered flag.

So, on a technical level, it’s not great. There are nothing but rough edges to cut yourself on. However, I think it’s important to criticize art based on its intent as much as its quality. Was it effective? Did it deliver the experience it intended to?

You see, We Are Chicago isn’t really a game. It’s interactive, sure, but its intent isn’t necessarily to entertain or engage through its interaction. It’s there to inform. We Are  Chicago is here to show someone like me – a white, middle-class urbanite with no first-hand knowledge of this subject matter – a bit of what the black experience in America is like. Sure, not like Friday, or Barbershop, or Do The Right Thing. It doesn’t have that much style. No, it’s simpler than that. Almost subversive in a sense.

Aaron Davis and his friends and family members are all just trying to make good. Their world is one of poverty and hardship but it’s also surprisingly mundane. Character motivations are nothing more than the realities of their real-life counterparts: Graduate high school. Get into a good college. Make enough money to support a family. Make time for your friends. These are all things we can relate to but where these motivations intersect with the daily realities of the violence inherent in the local community is where the value in We Are Chicago’s narrative begins and ends.

These are people who live under the threat of injury or death on a daily basis. They all know affiliated gang members. They’ve all been threatened or had to cross the street to keep from starting something. They all know someone who’s been shot. When gunfire breaks out just down the block at dinner time it doesn’t bring the evening to a screeching halt. Life goes on. There will be more shots fired tomorrow. There is no illusion of security in this world, just the day-to-day reality of a life lived in hope of something better.

That’s where We Are Chicago spends its artistic capital and it’s where its themes resonate most. Worrying about the safety of your awesome little sister. Working an unbelievably tedious part-time job. Making time to study. This isn’t any kind of life I would want for myself and yet there are those out there who live it every day and We Are Chicago drives that point home without pointing fingers or casting shade (though, in reality, there is plenty to go around).

It’s just too bad that its production values and general lack of polish keep it from ever achieving a proper moment of emotional transcendence. It tries, in places. You can feel the spots where everything should coalesce into a slow-clap moment well earned but We Are Chicago’s aim is far too wide of the target.

It’s also short. Very, very short. And it ends so abruptly and with little to no closure. It’s frustrating because many of the characters work (especially Aaron’s little sister, Taylor, who really is a treat) and there’s enough earnest desire to show you the world through a glass darkly that We Are Chicago isn’t without value.

Recommendation: If experiencing life through unfamiliar eyes is something that interests you then you might gain a little perspective here. Just don’t expect too much in the entertainment department, We Are Chicago is more That Dragon Cancer and less Telltale Games Presents in that regard.