#because you ended up writing multiple papers describing as best as you can how much you absolutely loathe it

[margridarnauds]

Writing this paper up and I swear to god if I get two publications on this mediocre film before I get anything published in Celtic Studies...

[catmiemy]

New Life, Old Problems (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Summary: You're trying to fully settle into your new life in London with your girlfriend. But when you get sick your past stops you from reaching out.

A/N: Finally managed to put something on paper again! By now I have about 6 stories (some multiple chapters) fully planned out in my head, but I struggle so much with actually writing any of it. Although it's getting a bit better, so I might become more active again.

This is the third part of the New Teammate series (Part 1, Part 2 Arsenal version). Although I think you should be fine to read this without reading the other parts first. Also this was definitely helped along by @holly-wallis, who reached out to tell me she was excited for the next part. So thank you again!

You thought you were doing well. You thought you had settled perfectly into your new life in London. You thought your relationship with Leah was going great. And all this was true, but only to a certain degree. Underneath the surface there were still many gaping wounds and you had a long way to go, which would take even longer because you refused to accept it, pretending like you were already at your destination.

How hard it really was for you to fully trust anyone, even Leah, to be vulnerable around her, became glaringly obvious when you got sick. As much as you wanted comfort, someone to take care of you, you couldn’t allow it. The thought of trusting anyone so much when you were in a vulnerable state left you panicked.

However there was no hiding your sickness. Leah and you had plans that day and if you came up with some random excuse your girlfriend might end up checking on you since it was unlike you to cancel without a good reason. And sadly you couldn’t think of a single good reason why you were unable to meet up with Leah. How were you supposed to do that when you could barely muster up the energy to go to the bathroom when needed?

In the end you decided that the truth was your best course of action. The defender had been exceptionally understanding about your situation and the multitude of struggles you still faced because of your past trauma. Honestly more understanding and patient than you were with yourself.

Despite being reasonably confident for a positive reaction you still were too much of a coward to call your girlfriend, opting to text her instead. ‘This was better for your sore throat anyway’, you reasoned with yourself.

R: Le, I’m sorry I have to cancel today. I got sick.

L: Oh no! Are you okay? No wait, scratch that. How bad are you feeling? Is there anything I can do? Bring you something? Or do you want me to come over to keep you company? I’d be happy to!

You looked at the sweet and caring words, Leah’s concern noticeable even from these few letters on your phone. The urge to text back and ask the Englishwoman to come over was huge. She would take good care of you; make you feel safe and loved. But you couldn’t allow it because what if…

You couldn’t even begin to describe what was hiding behind this what if. Maybe it was actually that, the big unknown, the completely unexpected. Never in your life would you have pictured what had gone done with Jimena and the whole team in Barcelona before it had actually happened. It had left you afraid to fully let your guard down because who knew when something unpredictable would happen again. And right now you were definitely too tired to keep up any guards, so your only option was to keep everyone far away from you.

R: That’s very sweet, but I can’t…I’m sorry.

With a rapidly beating heart you watched your phone, practically hypnotizing it, scared of your girlfriend’s reply. What if this was the final straw?  As much as this possibility scared you, it was still more bearable than the alternative. At least it was an option you had already considered. You wouldn’t be blindsided by it. Plus if there was one thing you had gotten good at in the course of your life it was dealing with pain and people leaving you.

L: I understand, babe. But if you need anything please text or call me. And I’ll be right there! Take care of yourself! Sending you some remote cuddles. Love you!

Your whole body relaxed as you read this response, even some tears of relief rolling down your cheeks.

R: Thanks, darling, I will. And thank you so much for being so understanding!! Love you too!

And with that you put your phone away, buried yourself under the covers and fell asleep relatively quickly. The cold medicine you had taken before texting Leah doing its part in helping you drowse off without too much of uncomfortable shuffling. Your last thought was that hopefully you’d already feel better when you woke up again.

Unfortunately the opposite was the case. You were startled awake by a violent coughing fit that just wouldn’t stop. You thought that you could ride it out, but when it got to the point where you felt like you had to throw up from coughing so much, you forced your tired body out of bed and into the bathroom.

First you collapsed in front of the toilet, bending over the bowl, but once it became clear that you didn’t actually have to throw up, you dragged yourself into the kitchen and filled a glass with water.

As long as you were drinking you were fine, but as soon as you put the glass down the scratchiness in your throat returned with full force, swiftly followed by another cough attack.

You resigned yourself to keep standing there, leaning heavily against the counter, too tired to support your body weight with only your legs, and drink glass after glass, until finally you could put the water down without instantly dissolving into a coughing fit.

At that point you were trembling because of the cold, your teeth chattering and every single bone of your body seemed to be hurting. Still you didn’t immediately crawl back into bed, instead you gathered all of the supplies you might need to ride out this cold. You filled a bottle with water, grabbed some crackers and medicine and then you decided to also get a bowl to be on the safe side should you actually have to throw up at some point.

When you finally returned to bed, your breathing was labored and you all but fell into it. You quickly buried yourself under the blankets. It did little to warm you up though and you debated for a moment to get back up and get more blankets. The idea of moving again seemed entirely impossible however.

This time it took you a lot longer to fall asleep, silent tears streaming down your face because you felt so miserable. You yearned for some comfort, for Leah’s arms around you really, and you knew she would come in a heartbeat if you asked her. Still, you couldn’t. You just couldn’t!

The next time you woke up you felt even worse and it was at this point that you realized that you needed help. Somewhere in the hazy fog of fever and misery you managed to form this one rational thought. However you had little recollection of what happened next.

You remembered staring at Leah’s contact on your phone for a while, although you couldn’t say if you did so for a few seconds or minutes or even hours. In the end you decided against calling her, instead opting to get an Uber. How you managed to get to the hospital was beyond you. You had some vague memories of a very concerned and helpful Uber driver who even walked you into the ER.

Another thing you recalled was sending Leah a message once you sat in the waiting room, slumped against the wall and shivering violently.

R: Fine. At hospital. But fine. Don’t worry!!!!

You even remembered feeling very proud of this text; convinced that it would soothe all of your girlfriend’s concerns. If you would have been coherent enough to read Leah’s answer you would have known that it had the opposite effect. You did feel the constant buzzing of your phone from when the Englishwoman tried calling you over and over again, but it felt kind of nice against you aching body, so you didn’t do anything about it.

---

“She’s not answering her phone and she hasn’t texted me back, Lia! What do I do!?!”

Your girlfriend was crying as she basically screamed these words at her best friend. When she had gotten your text and couldn’t get a hold of you, she had called the Swiss woman for support and because the midfielder was known for being helpful in difficult situations.

“Okay Leah, first take a deep breath…” Lia began with a soothing tone.

“Are you kidding me?! How do you expect me to breath when I don’t know where my girlfriend, my very sick girlfriend might I add, is!” Leah yelled, feeling the need to punch something like some sort of cliché from a movie. Or even better, the blonde would have loved to have a ball at her feet right now, that she could pund with all of her strength into the back of the net. And then maybe get into a slightly too aggressive scuffle with an opponent. Just something to get rid of this nervous energy.

“You know where she is though, she’s in the hospital, so they’ll be taking care of her,” Lia reasoned, continuing quickly before your girlfriend could blow up at her again, “And fine let’s skip the breathing. Here’s what I think we should do; you pack some things your girl might need and I’m going to call the hospitals closest to her. It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out where she is. Then I’ll come pick you up and drive you over because you definitely shouldn’t be driving.”

Despite her earlier refusal Leah let out a deep breath, relief smoothing out the edges of her panic, at least now they had a reasonable plan. This was exactly why she had called her best friend and once the Englishwoman was less preoccupied with her fear for you she would be thanking Lia profusely.

A little later the two footballers arrived at the hospital, Lia once again taking the lead and asking about you. There was a bit of a back and forth where the staff had to figure out if they could even give them any information about you.

It was a big test for your girlfriend’s brittle composure, every second that ticked by brought her one step closer to bursting into tears or unleashing her fury on everyone that got into a five meter radius of her.

Leah managed to keep it together however, not using the healthiest coping mechanisms. The Englishwoman kept pinching herself to let at least some of the overwhelming emotions trickle out of her.

Lia frowned when she noticed, but decided to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t want to risk a full-blown outburst which might then keep them, or at least Leah, from seeing you even longer.

Finally they managed to find the right information and saw that Leah was in fact your emergency contact, something that the blonde had been telling them all along. If only they would have believed her then this wouldn’t have taken so long!

Thankfully things went quickly after that. Leah was led to your room while Lia wasn’t allowed to tag along. The Swiss woman promised that she would stay in the waiting room until your girlfriend had updated her, in case either Leah or you needed something.

Leah entered your room quietly, not wanting to disturb you even though with all the meds you had been given it was unlikely you would wake up anytime soon. Still she didn’t want to take the risk. So the defender tiptoed into your room, coming to a sudden halt once she had a good view of you.

It filled your girlfriend with fear and pain to see you so sick. You were pale, even more so than usual, almost the same color as the bed sheets. There was a tube connected to your arm, most likely to replenish you with everything you needed. You were also hooked up to a monitor, and it was a small relief to Leah that everything on it looked and sounded normal. As far as she could tell at least. Most of her medical knowledge stemmed from watching doctor shows, so that probably wasn’t the most reliable source.

After getting used to this sick, fragile version of you the blonde approached you, standing by your bedside. She looked down at you with teary eyes, gently stroking your cheek before smoothing out your tussled hair.

Your girlfriend craved more contact. She wanted to snuggle up next to you, wrap her arms around you and basically attach every centimeter of her body to yours. But Leah didn’t know how you would feel about that. Not when you weren’t awake to enforce your boundaries, not when you were in a vulnerable state which usually made you push people far away from you.

So with a sigh she pulled up a chair and sat down next to your bed, not even allowing herself to hold your hand. The England captain didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable even the tinie when you woke up.

It was about 30 minutes later that Leah suddenly remembered that Lia was still waiting for her. She rushed down to the waiting room, not wanting to leave you alone for a second longer than totally necessary.

“She’s okay, I think. Or not too bad at least. So you can go home,” Leah explained, sounding very unsure. Everyone had told her that you would be okay, all the signs pointed to it, but she would only be able to believe it once you woke up and she could see for herself. And maybe not even then.

“That’s good! I guess you want to go back now, but call me if you think of anything you need, yeah?” Lia replied, giving her friend a tight hug.

Leah nodded, before turning around and walking as fast as she could back to your room. She would have run, but had the distinct feeling that that wouldn’t be appreciated by the hospital staff. And the Englishwoman didn’t want to annoy anyone, not when she was aware that they were already breaking the rules for her by letting her stay with you way past visiting hours.

---

When you woke up you noticed with a pang of sadness that there was no warm body next to you. It wasn’t like you and Leah stayed over at each other’s place every day, but definitely more often than not. And lately every time you woke up alone you felt some dismay. Everything was just better when you got to start the day with your girlfriend.

The second thing you became aware of was that despite just waking up you still felt exhausted, drained was the better word really, and also somewhat hazy and achy. It was then that you remembered that you were sick and that you had this weird fever dream where you took an Uber to the hospital. If you would have had the energy for it you would have laughed at the absurdity of this.

However as you opened your eyes you realized with a silent ‘Oh’ that it hadn’t been a fever dream after all, you really were in the hospital. Panic bubbled up in you, but got quickly cut off before it could become overwhelming by your favorite voice speaking up, even if you didn’t like how worried it sounded.

“Babe, are you awake? How are you feeling?”

You turned around, your lips turning into a smile when you laid your eyes on your girlfriend. She had gotten up from the chair she had presumably been sitting in, staring down at you intently. The Englishwoman’s eyes were trailing over your entire body, however not in the way they usually did, this felt more clinical, like she was attempting to spot anything that might be wrong.

“Could be worse,” you replied.

Leah gave you an unimpressed look. “But it also could be better?” She double-checked and you nodded sheepishly.

“Is there anything I can do before I get the doctor?” Your girlfriend asked softly.

For some reason Leah was still standing a good fifty centimeters away from your bed, her arms hidden behind her back as if she had to stop herself from reaching out to you. If only she would! You longed for some comforting touches and maybe a good, reassuring hug from the blonde.

“Get me home?” You joked with a pleading look. You definitely wanted to get out of the hospital but you knew that it wasn’t up to your girlfriend, and she would never do anything to endanger you.

“No can do, sorry babe. Anything else?” Leah prodded, hoping you would ask her for a hug. She could barely contain herself from launching at you, but the fear of crossing your boundaries in such a difficult situation kept her back.

“Maybe a cuddle,” you mumbled so quietly and rapidly that Leah couldn’t decipher what you were saying.

“What was that, babe? Sorry I didn’t quite hear you,” Leah apologized, taking a step closer to you.

You locked your eyes with your girlfriend’s, letting all the love and concern shining in them wash over you and give you the strength to utter your request more loudly. There wasn’t even a reason to feel weird about it, you knew that Leah wouldn’t deny it, would most likely be happy to oblige.

“A cuddle?”

Within milliseconds your girlfriend closed the distance between the two of you, sat down on the edge of your bed and leaned down to gather you carefully in her arms. You both felt and heard the relieved sigh Leah let out when you were tucked into her arms.

It made you wonder why the blonde had kept her distance before, a certain guess at the forefront of your mind. And in the safety of your girlfriend’s arms you managed to ask about it without much over thinking or fuss.

“Why did you sit all the way over there?”

All the way over there was a bit of an exaggeration, but also not really. Any sort of distance between your sick self and your girlfriend felt like way too much.

Leah tried to lean back a bit to look you in the eyes, but you held her firmly in place. You weren’t ready to lose the comfort of her body on yours, even if she put now weight on you, not sure if it would negatively impact you in your current state.

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable with me being too close when you woke up. I know allowing closeness when you aren’t feeling too good is still very difficult for you,” Leah explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Even though your girlfriend showed you over and over again, day in and day out how amazing she was, the level of understanding and love behind this gesture still knocked you off your feet, or it would have if you were standing. It almost made you believe fully that you would always be safe with her. Almost. There was still a tiny bit of fear and insecurity left. It would probably take a good while longer until you got rid of that last remnant and you were once again very grateful for Leah’s patience.

“Thank you so so much, love,” you whispered, pulling the blonde even closer to you.

“Always,” Leah stated, not an ounce of doubt in her voice. She would always do whatever she could for you, to make you feel comfortable, loved and safe.

Your girlfriend allowed you to cuddle a bit longer until she gently extracted herself to get a doctor. At first you were somewhat annoyed at this, you would have preferred to stay wrapped up together for the rest of the night. However when the doctor announced after a quick exam that you would be allowed to go home later that day, you didn’t mind so much anymore. The thought of going home made up for losing contact with your girlfriend temporarily.

Especially because she instantly stated that she would be staying with you when the doctor pointed out that you could only go home if there was someone around to supervise you. The way her voice sounded slightly offended that this wasn’t abundantly clear to everyone made you smile fondly.

That’s how you found yourself sitting in Leah’s car that Lia had brought to the hospital early in the morning with help from Viv and Beth a few hours later. The short walk to the parking lot had tired you out and you couldn’t wait to get to Leah’s apartment and crawl into her cozy bed.

You were half asleep when your girlfriend asked you, “Home?” Still you managed to nod and echo her words. “Home,” you confirmed.

In your drowsy and still a bit feverish state you hadn’t realized that Leah was actually asking where you wanted to go, your apartment or hers. In your mind it was already decided that you would be going to the Englishwoman’s place. You loved her apartment more than yours at this point, everything about it homey and safe.

So when the blonde announced that you had arrived and you opened your eyes from the half-sleep you had been in a wave of unhappiness hit you as you took in your surroundings. You were parked in front of your own apartment building.

Tears flooded your eyes, which you tried to blink away hastily before Leah could spot them. It was stupid to be upset because of this, it wasn’t like your apartment was bad or anything, you were just really craving the comfort of your girlfriend’s place. Where everything smelt and felt like Leah.

Of course the defender detected your distress instantly. She had been watching you like a hawk ever since she had gotten to the hospital last night.

“What’s wrong, babe? Does something hurt? Should we go back to the hospital?” She asked you in rapid succession, trying unsuccessfully to keep her voice calm and steady.

You shook your head, mumbling that it was nothing. To emphasize this point you reached for your seatbelt, determined to get out of the car and into your apartment without any more of a hassle. Everything was fine. It didn’t matter that you had wanted to go to Leah’s home. Everywhere was better than the hospital anyway.

Leah didn’t give up so easily though. She put her hand on yours lightly, not taking a hold of it however, leaving you the option to pull it back if you wanted to. You didn’t, just this small contact made you feel better instantly.

“Please tell me what’s bothering you,” your girlfriend begged, her eyes looking suspiciously wet.

“It’s stupid,” you waved Leah off.

“Please,” Leah asked again, demolishing the last of your resolve to keep this to yourself.

“I really wanted to go to your place,” you explained, rushing to add, “But it doesn’t matter. Let’s just go inside now.”

Again you tried to make an attempt to leave the car, and again Leah stopped you with a gentle touch.

“We can still go over to my place if you prefer,” she offered, already turning her car back on.

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m just being silly,” you argued, but Leah just reached over to buckle you back in and pulled out of the parking space.

You didn’t have it in you to continue arguing. Plus you were too happy at the prospect of getting to go to your girlfriend’s place after all. So you just leant your head against the car window, letting your eyes flutter shut again.

“I thought you said you wanted to go home,” Leah said before you could fully fall asleep.

“I did, but I meant your place,” you answered tiredly.

“Oh,” your girlfriend exclaimed, her voice heavy with emotion. The idea of you thinking of her apartment as your home meant a lot to Leah. Every once in a while she couldn’t help but worry if she was doing enough to help you move on, to be the best girlfriend possible, to make you feel loved and safe. So this undeniable confirmation that she had been succeeding in all of these aspects meant the world to your girlfriend.

When there was no more reaction from you after this, Leah glanced over, smiling when she saw you sleeping soundly. You looked so young and open and vulnerable when you slept. Leah cherished the fact that you were comfortable being like this around her, that wouldn’t have been possible a few months ago.

[arrowfleur]

“What was that for?”

Some more thoughts on Darlin’s love languages and Sam’s HBS. Part 2 headcanons yay!

@darlin-collins <3

Darlin feels like they are never close enough to Sam, they will be laid directly on top of him and still trying to figure out ways to get closer

Sam, although quite outwardly stoic, does not only use his ‘pretty prose’ on Darlin’ (although they get the most and the best ones). Since his turning he is so aware of how short life can be and when he truly admires something about a person he’ll let them know.

This is usually with close pack/clan and also always when he’s just on his own with the person he’s talking too. But, if the timings right, he lets out these poetic observations, usually leaving the other person speechless before he quickly changes the topic. Not always realising the (positive) weight of his compliments.

On multiple occasions Sam has used words to describe Darlin that they didn’t know. Not because they’re dumb but because some of his vocabulary is rather niche. And upon looking it up they almost always perfectly describe Darlin’ in whatever situation he was talking about.

Although not the best at giving compliments, Darlin’ does tell Sam that he’s beautiful, gorgeous etc depending on the vibe he’s giving at the time and they’re the first person to ever call him anything other than handsome or hot.

‘You’re so pretty’

‘Pretty?!?’

‘Mhmm’

‘Darlin’ I ain’t-‘

‘Especially right now, with your hair like that’

‘Alright…. Well, thank you.’

I’ve mentioned before in a head canon post that they like it when Sam runs a finger up and down the bridge of their nose. Darlin’ will also full on nuzzle into Sam when cuddling/hugging. Especially into his collarbone/neck

Although comfortable with (platonic) touch from people they know, Darlin doesn’t like it unexpectedly, nor will they usually initiate it.

Unless someone they love is upset, then they’ll be getting a hug or an arm wrapped around them without any hesitation (if that’s what they like ofc)

Sam feels like he’ll never be able to fully voice how much Darlin’ means to him, Darlin’s heart practically skips a beat when he simply calls them beautiful. (Or when he makes a joke or complains or laughs or….)

When comforting Darlin’ about something, Sam often adresses problems/reasons for their behaviour/feelings that Darlin’ hadn’t realised themselves yet. He is so careful with his wording and extremely observant of them.

Darlin’ although previously independent to a fault, realised that the best comfort they could give Sam was to let him help them. On multiple occasions Darlin’ has let him heal paper-cuts and small bruises (which is a ridiculous waste of magic in their opinion) because otherwise he’s not going to stop thinking about it.

Sam knows all of Darlin’s tells by their body language and Darlin’ know Sam’s by his tone and the amount he’s speaking for example: if he says he’s ‘fine’ then he’s not but if he says he’s ‘alright’ then he probably is

The same way Sam felt bad about not being able to give Darlin every physical action that they wanted Darlin feels bad that they can’t verbalise their feelings for him correctly.

Sam found a scrunched up love letter from Darlin’ and keeps it in his wallet. They’d wanted to write down their feelings so they wouldn’t mess it up when sharing them with him but ultimately hated the end result.

They do however leave little notes for him sometimes while he’s sleeping , since they tend to work on different schedules, that Sam also dearly treasures and keeps in a shoe box.

Sam is really good at writing professional emails and has on multiple occasions written some for Angel and Babe when they’ve had problems with their bosses

The perfect mix of polite, professional and passive aggressive

Another way Darlin’ helps Sam is by reminding him of his talents/abilities and how he uses them for so much good, they will not let that man be humble. His #1 cheerleader FR.

Even with all of this in mind both of their most comfortable ways of communicating their love is through acts of service. That way they get to keep up their grumpy outward personas that the pack/clan have long since learned to see right through.

[uninformedartist]

So a review on Helluva boss So2 ep 6

Ok so gonna break this review down into positives and negatives with my additional thoughts.

Positives:

So always start off with this, big props and love to the animation team we know know and see your struggle working under Vivienne and animating her over-complicated designs. Props to the BG team really stunning backgrounds, was actually a bit over the top for me (Ozzie's palace and especially the dildo factory shit was moving way too fast) but did pause to have a look at the BGs it is really pretty, the shit pacing made everything a visual blur tho.

VA work stunning love always a joy to hear Alex and James in any VA work tho Fizz's song was eyyy not the best but don't blame Alex it was a shittly written song in general especially when it went to the heavy metal part, overstimulating af and again shit pacing during the song and the flashing visuals gave me a headache. Striker's new VA, Ed's voice really grew on me he should've been Striker in the 1st place because I know for a fact Norman couldn't reprise his role for future episodes.

I loved Ozzie and Fizz's relationship especially the end scene where you can see Ozzie development or got hold of the best technology to give Fizz functional limbs, was a tender scene their relationship and interactions made me smile. I'll give Viv 1 ty for not fucking up their relationship, ty Viv (I can be nice to her :). Tho 1 scene that bothered me... the 12 sec Ozzie dong scene 💀 my soul it was just so jarring especially with the fast pacing. Felt like a race car coming to an immediate stop then speeding off again. Would've like the scene replaced with Fizz telling Bliz something nice about Ozzie, why Fizz likes him. I'm tired of queer couples/pairings in this show describing their partner in 2 ways, 1. how good they are in bed or 2. they got x anatomy that's amazing. But its Viv writing this ep, sigh her and her damn middle school sex jokes I'll let it slide.

Now negatives:

I said it before I'll say it for all eternity, the pacing was dogshit bad oh my soul wtf... Viv, Adam whoever I know you guys don't listen to criticism but if any criticism you take fix your damn pacing 😑. I had to pause multiple times just to see what has happening, what was said, what this paper/sign etc said. It was bad, and that paired with the overdetailed BGs and character designs, for the 1st time ever I got overstimulted from a HB ep and had to take a 5 min break to rest my eyes (was by Fizz's song). Its a noisey spinning kaleidoscope this ep, so unpleasant and its all pacing. Stay on certain scenes a bit longer and allow the audience to take in the scene before them (that flackback scene) its makes a difference. If you get overwhelmed/overstimlated ect by such visuals I recommend watching the leaked episode its much better in terms of pacing since its mostly storyboards and there is no color, plus its just the VAs talking with no background music and zero to minimal sound effects.

I didn't care for Crimson in this episode, I know he became Viv's favorite 😒 but seeing this fucker back so soon, it wasn't enjoyable, especially since the only reason he's in this ep is for a "big score" 😑. Also I'm tired of this over convenient plots, Fizz so happened to be in the greed ring and so happened to run into Blitz and Striker so happened to be in greed meeting with Crim who need a man for a "big score" AND SO HAPPENED Striker sees Fizz/Blitz fighting outside the window 🙃. Its all too convenient for me it takes me out and I then think how the plot coming together is ridiculous.

Striker is so under utilized. Since Viv hates him (confirmed by sources I can't pull now apologies) and she wrote this episode, everything established of Striker in So1 is destroyed. He's a husk of his intended character, all talk no show, a misogynistic clown who you can see Viv has no care writing him properly because she doesn't like him which is fucking horrible, this woman will butcher an integral villian, one with a good motivation (he hates blue-bloods) all because "oh I don't like him he's not in my fav OC list", petty af.

Fizz's disability and how its handled, spoke about it in this post:

It still remains the same though now we see it wasn't Wally holding the cake just some other imp and the card Bliz made for Fizz was a love confession still doesn't justify his reaction shoving the imp and his still underlying jealousy of Fizz since they were young. Yes it was backing off from a love confession/ashamed he's not as good a performer as Fizz, Blitz was jealous of Fizz. Made another post saying how I like how Fizz sees his disability, he's content, happy, has Ozzie who understands him and even made/went out his way to get Fizz the best prosthetics to better his quality of life, I like that good on Fizzy :).

5. Going to be a separate long post on (ಠ_ಠ) Blitz, THE FUCKING BIRD IS BACK 💀💀💀 why your rotisserie chicken ass not in hospital or we just skipping past that and how Viv keeps I'm gonna say it, forcing her characters to have daddy issues by writing this fucking irritating basic fanfic trope of killing the mother offscreen/not having the mother in the picture/us seeing her face. A commenter pointed this out and it irritates me because its the 3rd time she does this, she show Tilla (Blitz's mom) in pictures, you think there would be an episode revolving around Blitz's childhood etc but no she's "in" a fast paced pitty party flashback. This woman really can't show an ounce of respect to any female characters.

This is all for now, will be making more posts the more this ep settles in.

Score: 4.7/10

[solradguy]

Please at some point if you can write about how those 2 panels in beginning and what they mean to you the begin content is always so good and also really enjoy how rough the drawings where for it UGH

Yess god I love Begin so much. Honestly, it's like a 7/10 star scifi novel at best; it's a pretty standard "guy gets monsterified by evil science" plot. But Sol/Frederick means so much to me and that book did more for his characterization than almost any other piece of GG media has before or since, imo.

I picked this thing apart like a carcass so readmore because it goes on for miles. A thorough dump of my thoughts on what I have labeled as "begin pic 12" in my GG Begin scans folder. Vague suicide mention warning for when I start talking about the personal stuff near the middle.

What I love about those two panels is that it's the first time we get to see Sol after he gets turned into a Gear and it's a downtime moment. It's 6 months after Asuka betrayed him and he just finished whatever mechanical process was required to complete the first Gear cell suppressor headband. He's actually unplugging it in the second panel on the left. There's a third panel below these where he's picking up the headband and there's a strong focus on how monstrous and gross his hand is as an effect of the Gear cells, but it's not quite as interesting as the first panel here.

It's so small. This is the only time we ever see or hear a (canon) description of what Sol's personal living space looks like. They DO show him at some kind of house at the end of Strive, but it's barely fleshed out. There aren't that many details or strong hints in that scene like there are here.

I've talked about this potted plant in the window a lot, it's my favorite detail in this illustration.

It's not clear what kind of plant it is though. Maybe some kind of succulent with how stiff and solid the leaves look? Something Sol doesn't have to worry too much about taking care of—low effort in case he has to leave for a long time or forgets to water it. But like... Where did he get this plant? The building he's living in is described as a rusty shack out in the middle of nowhere, so I doubt the plant was there when he moved in. He must've picked it up somewhere and brought it back. Why?

Sol calls himself a monster multiple times throughout Begin and it's pretty clear how keenly aware he is of his rapidly vanishing humanity. He knows his time is running out and he's trying to slow it down by making the limiter headband but that's only a temporary fix. Asuka betrayed him, Aria might be dead (or worse), he can't even blend in with normal humans anymore, and the only animals that are like him are mindless war machines. Sol is completely and absolutely alone.

Except he's got that plant.

The plant doesn't have feelings, it can't judge him. If he goes mad and becomes a rampaging animal like the bear Gear at the end of Begin, the plant won't know or care. Sol got that plant from somewhere and whether he takes care of it or not, it's something else for him to think about. A single purely organic thing in his rusty, machine-littered, shack. If he can't bring himself to do anything else on a given day, if the Gear cells are screaming too loudly and he just wants to say fuck it all and rip everything apart, he's got that tiny little potted thing that only needs sunlight and water. Daisuke probably didn't even think about it that hard when he was designing this scene, but I have hahah I appreciate this little plant. There is a lot of thought put into the layout of the things on Sol's desk though, so perhaps Daisuke did have a motive putting the plant there too.

Sol's desk space is about what you'd expect. A tiny toolbox under the light, notes, wires, balled up scrapped papers, books (likely on magic and software engineering, probably something on wiring), the corkboard up above that has a map with marked out locations that are implied to be locations of places Asuka might have gone since the research lab him, Sol, and Aria worked at exploded (referenced in the epilogue). The rolled tubes on the right may be maps or computer schematics for Sol to reference for making the suppressor.

Based on the position of his hands in the other panels, that thing near his elbow must be whatever was compiling something onto the suppressor headband. I don't know what those are directly in front of him by that dark tower. They look sort of like computer chips/boards? Too low detail to know for sure.

The rest of the scene around his desk are just cabinets and drawers without much unique/outstanding detail. Nothing unique or outstanding enough to base anything off of, just set pieces.

For purely personal reasons, I love this illustration because I spend a lot of time sitting at my own cluttered, dimly lit, desk working on projects that keep me sane haha. Sol's arc through Begin is relatable too, in a way, with regards to gender and body stuff. It's easy to read a lot of the Gear things as an allegory for transitioning for people that didn't have a very smooth transition or that took a long time to accept that's what they are. I fell into that latter category for a long time. Once puberty hit, I realized that I didn't want to be like a woman, but being trans was bad? All depictions of trans people that I knew were jokes or were things like drag, and none of them were women into men. I didn't know a single depiction of a trans man until I went looking for it myself as an adult. They were all tomboys that rescinded their masculinity and became petite girls in pastels. Or they were villains that died and were made fun of.

So. I just didn't know you could do it. I thought that maybe there were just never any women that felt like men or that they were something other than a woman. There was no one to talk to about it, no resources to look up, I hated myself over it because it was a bad thing meant to be kept to yourself. I grew my hair really long to cover my chest and only wore baggy/layered clothes to smooth out my unfortunately curvy waist. On top of this, I have also been 6'5" since I was about 14. I didn't fit in with the women at school because they saw me as a man and I didn't fit in with the men because, biologically, I was a woman. Through all of this, I had to move with my mom across the country to live with a literal nazi because I knew if I didn't, she'd do something stupid (I was right in that she didn't want to because I was there). My friends wanted me to stay and live with my dad but I didn't know how to tell them that I couldn't. I didn't tell them when I was leaving and just left.

I had no friends, no one else was physically like me, there was nothing for me to relate to or find inspiration in. I don't know what kept me going, in hindsight. Everything pissed me off all of the time. All I had was my sick cat, metal playlists, and art. Man, did I have art though.

My art teacher let me skip Art 2 to go from Art 1 directly into Advanced Placement Art (AP Art) because I was graduating that year and she saw potential in me. For our AP Art final portfolios, we had to do a certain set of pieces with fixed themes (portrait, abstract, specific mediums, life study, etc) and then another set of something like 12 that were wholly original illustrations connected through a single, personal, theme. The theme for my original pieces was that monsters have no friends because they're big and scary and no one else is like them, but that they still need love because they're just trying to find their place in the world. Lol. I wish I still had the short essay I wrote about it, but it was so long ago...

I don't really know what was keeping Sol going at the end of Begin either, when he's living in that shack so far from his own home, alone. But I get it though. Sometimes something activates in the human spirit when shit's got it out bad for you that makes you want to keep going. It ended up working out for me. My mom's still alive, I have friends again and I know who I am now despite being a weird biological anomaly. It's working out pretty well for Sol now too, it seems, despite it all.

[hops-hunny]

Those Bloody Girls

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Beauxbaton!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: “I couldn't sleep soooo

Neville absolutely worshiping his beauxbaton gf but his friends think he's full of shit when he tries to tell them about how fucking gorgeous and fantastic she is. And everytime he tries to introduce her to his friends something goes wrong and his friends end up looking at him like he's crazy cuz he's introducing absolutely nothing but air. And separately she has been accidentally meeting all his friends one on one, helping Ron pick up his books in the hall, cleaning off some soot from Seamus face because he looked rather silly, encouraging harry before one of his quidditch matches/Triwizard trials etc and all the while they have no idea that's Nevilles wonderful gf and they all develop a crush on her never telling each other anything so when they finally meet her it's hilarious 😂

-🦡”

Summary: The request says it all

Warnings: None!

A/N: This was such a fun idea. I loved writing this all hail 🦡 anon.

If there was anything Beauxbaton girl's were known for, it was their beautiful looks. They were graceful and diligent, each one graced with the face of an angel, and Neville just so happened to have the prettiest one. They had met during the summer by a complete chain of accidents resulting in one of the greatest blessings he could've ever asked for. Neville was lucky and he knew it, never letting anyone forget.

"Oh bullshit! You're saying she's got a cute face, nice waist, and she can bake? Ha! I'll believe it when I see it, Nev." Ron snorted, Seamus nodding along with him.

"Yeah you expect us to just believe a girl from Beauxbaton of all places chose you? No offense Nev but Beauxbaton girl's have standards and none of us Hogwarts boys meet em." Seamus said, shrugging as he continued to throw rolled up bits of paper in Dean's hair (who still hadn't noticed.). Neville rolled his eyes in irritation, looking to Harry and Dean as well but for once, they were on the same page as the other two.

"Sorry Nev. It's just, a Beauxbaton girl? And from the way you describe it, the most beautiful one in her year if not school?" Harry said, giving him a sympathetic look. 

"Yeah mate. You've gotta understand where we're coming from." Dean chimed, turning his attention back to the assignment in his lap. Neville groaned, glaring at his friends.

"You guys act like I haven't tried to introduce you to her! Every time I try to you guys go and get yourselves into something stupid or I end up busy. Let's all agree that Friday you will meet her, no matter what." the boys all nodded in agreement, not really thinking much of it. After all, there was no girlfriend but if it'd ease his mind, they'd show up.

----------------

Ron swore angrily, rolling his eyes in frustration. It was just his luck that he'd drop all his quills and the massive scroll of paper rolling away with his bits of sanity. Normally he'd just collect them and go on with it, not really worrying about time but for once in his god damn life he had made an effort to study for the exam he had next hour and if he was late? All that bloody time would be wasted! However, his worries began to fade as a small manicured (s/c) hand began to gather his quills. His eyes widened as he looked at the girl, mouth gaping.

She had (h/l) (h/c) hair that was an even more vibrant (h/c) in the afternoon sun. Beautiful plush (s/c) thighs (that he'd like to see more from under that little skirt), and not to mention the most beautiful set of (e/c) eyes he had ever seen. But when she smiled? Oh when she smiled, he was hooked. The little emblem on her shirt confirmed his suspicion. Beauxbaton. However what he did miss was the words that were currently leaving her mouth.

"I'm sorry...what?" he asked, causing a giggle to erupt from the girl's mouth. She smiled, handing him the quills that he had dropped.

"I said it's a shame that this happened to you! I hope you aren't too late. I have a free period so I'll carry these to your class for you!" she offered, silence falling over them as he continued to stare at her in awe. His face flushed as she cleared her throat, looking at him expectantly.

"O-oh! Right, yes, thank you. That'd be helpful." He offered her a small smile as he began to walk. The entire time of the walk there, she helped him by quizzing him on the subject and by the time he got there, he felt like he remembered everything!

Everything but asking for her name. He felt like an idiot but for once, it wasn't because of school.

------------------------

Seamus sat at the cauldron, focusing on the ingredients list. His partner had decided from every other time in potions, that he wasn't allowed to touch anything. They had a perfect grade and didn't want it to be ruined from the likes of him. However, he was growing restless. It couldn't be too hard...right? Wrong, so wrong.

He dropped in a few spider legs, stirring counterclockwise like the book had instructed. However, as it turned an angry red and bubbles began to form, he knew that he had screwed up big time. He tried backing away but it was too late, the potion had erupted in a large explosion, black soot coating his face and hair. Everyone in the class turned to look at him, some laughing while some were utterly annoyed. This was such a common thing that it was a miracle when he didn’t blow something up. He flashed Snape a bright smile, ignoring the way the vein on the man’s forehead twitched and juttered in annoyance.

“Class dismissed.” he seethed out. Before he could issue a punishment, Seamus ran off down the hallway ignoring the harsh yells of the potion’s master. He continued to run and run until he accidentally bumped into a group of girls sending him straight to the floor. His face turned rouge with embarrassment as they laughed at his scuffed appearance but a divine voice broke through the laughter.

“Leave him alone guys! You all go ahead, I’ll catch up with you later.” she said, pushing her friends to go ahead in the other direction. Seamus looked up, admiring how beautiful they were but especially the (h/c) haired one in the middle of them all. She was a walking sculpture, a painting straight from the louvre. She was..

“Hot.” he blattered out, not even realizing his words. His eyes widened as he stood up clearing his throat. Luckily for him she hadn’t heard him, causing him to look up to the ceiling and give a quick thank to Merlin himself. She looked back at him, frowning slightly as she observed the soot on his freckled face. Her eyes lit up as she reached into the small purse on her shoulder, pulling out a silk fabric.

“Can’t have you going around looking all silly! Come here.” she said, motioning for him to lean down. He did so instantaneously, cheeks turning even more red as she licked the small fabric before beginning to wipe at the mess on his face. It was an action his mother had done multiple times but for some reason, he found this to be far more endearing. Her face was close to his, giving him a good look at the light layer of gloss on her plump lips. He couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had ever kissed them before, if she had ever had them wrapped around a-

“All done! I can’t do much for your hair but it’s not that noticeable. I have to get going though, bye!” She said flashing him a smile before walking away. When she was out of sight, he couldn’t help but wonder if that had even happened. Did a beautiful girl really just hold his face and clean it...out of the kindness of her heart? Was it truly possible for someone to look so perfect and act so kind? He didn’t know but he surely did wanna find out. He smirked to himself, standing up straight as he walked down the hall.

“She wants me.”

---------------------------------

Harry splashed some water on his face, running a shaky hand through his hair. No matter how many times he’d hop on that broom, zooming around in the sky with the intent to win, he always got painstakingly nervous before a match. He observed his appearance, grimacing at the sickly green undertone to his face. Was he going to puke again? Didn’t matter, he didn’t have time. Sighing he walked out the bathroom, sneaking to observe how many people were in the crowd. His eyes began to wander to the Beauxbaton girls, admiring how pretty they were in the stands. However, what he wasn’t prepared for was for a pretty face to walk over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Harry, right?” she asked, a gentle smile on her stunning face. His breath hitched as he felt himself be taken by a new set of nerves.

“R-right. Yeah that’s me. I’m, I’m Harry.” he internally kicked himself. How embarrassing. One of the most lovely girls he had ever seen and here he was, making himself look like a fool. His nerves were soothed some when he heard her laugh, a sound like beautiful Christmas bells.

“I think we already established that.” she said, grinning even more. She patted his shoulder as she looked at him, eyes full of sincerity. “No need to be nervous. I’ve heard you’re one of the best players on the field! Do your best out there! I’m rooting for ya.” she began walking off, flipping her Gryffindor scarf around her shoulder. Whether she meant rooting for him personally or the team didn’t matter. A determined look took his face as he began to make his way to his team. He was going to win this, for her.

----------------------

Friday came around quicker than any of them had expected, not like it mattered to them. They all sat around looking at each other, a shared thought running through most of their heads. As if Neville could hear it, he groaned standing up angrily.

“Guys! I swear she’s real! She’s just running a bit late, she’s horrible with time management. Plus, she’s well known amongst her peers so she’s always getting asked to help with things.” he grumbled, staring at them with disdain. 

“Nev, it’s okay you don’t have to keep lying. We’ll get you a girlfriend since clearly you’re going mad thinking that you have one.” Seamus said, prompting the boy to throw his textbook at the boy which hit his head with a loud thud. They all looked up as peach colored owl flew in, dropping a note into Neville’s hand. The boys set up a bit straighter, unfamiliar with the owl. The boy’s eyes scanned the page, taking in the words before nodding.

“Alright, it seems she wants us to come to her. She’s by the fountain in the courtyard! That’s cute, she forgot she was supposed to come to me.” he chuckled fondly at the thought of his forgetful girlfriend before turning to walk. His friends still sat on the couch, stunned that this girl might actually be real. “Well don’t just sit there, let’s go!”

All of them scrambled up and began to follow their lanky friend, mumbling amongst themselves.

“No way. Do you think she’s real?”

“Well I’ve never seen that owl!”

“This is insane. Okay if she’s real, she definitely can’t be as hot as he said she is.”

“Yeah probably one of the more...unsightly Beauxbaton girls.”

Wrong. Terribly wrong. Th-that was her? It couldn’t be. However, as the girl’s big doe eyes lit up it was slowly becoming a big possibility. And as she ran to him, jumping into his arms, that possibility became reality right in front of their eyes. Neville leaned in kissing the girl, holding her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as she pulled away. Her eyes turned to the group of guys, surprise taking over her face. Neville looked back and forth between her expression and the one of his friends.

“You guys alright?” he asked confusedly, setting the girl back on the ground before pulling her into his side. She eyed them carefully before tilting her head.

“Have we met before?” 

“NO!” they all shouted in unison. They all turned to each other in confusion, stepping away from the happy couple.

“You met her too?!” Harry whisper shouted, eyeing the other two. Ron nodded frantically, unable to respond verbally due to the shock and queasiness overtaking him. The beautiful girl from Wednesday was Neville’s girl? Life was not being fair by putting that bird in his hands.

“Like hell I did! She was practically all over me.” Seamus exclaimed, all of them turning to look at the girl who had a lovesick look on her face as Neville rambled on about something. 

“Okay now that one I doubt. I can’t fucking believe this. I’ve been thinking about her all week.” Ron groaned out, crossing his arms angrily. Harry nodded in agreement, grabbing the flask that Seamus had pulled out taking a big swig of it.

“You’re telling me. I did a lot more than think about her if you know what I mean.” Seamus mumbled, eyeing the girl’s rear.

“Sadly I do and I wish I didn’t.” Harry grimaced as the gruesome image popped up in his head. “Come on, we better head back over before they think something is up.”

“My bunny says she met you all earlier in the week! How come you didn’t tell me?” he questioned, watching as the boys practically drooled over her.

“I dunno sorta...slipped my mind.” Harry trailed off, eyes dragging along her exposed midriff.

“Nah I’ll be honest. Bird was too hot and didn’t get her name. ‘S a shame really.” Seamus shrugged, earning a kick to the knee from Harry. “What?! I know you thought it too. Congrats Longbottom, you’ve got a grade A girl there.”

Neville looked down at the smaller girl, smiling some as she looked away shyly at the kind words she was receiving. 

“Yeah, I do.”

[bitchineering]

Lets go! Day 1: Let’s learn HOW the frick to study

So this I think is the most important thing to do and really it is insane that in the United States (which is where I am from by the way) students have no idea on how to freaking study. Honestly all of this gets me incredibly frustrated because with the internet we have the ability to share information and I’ll tell you that I am one of those people who have scavenged the internet and picked apart what I could find. Here’s another big problem: not everything someone does will work for you. 

Also just the spread of dumb study information is pretty terrible. If I do counter anything I will leave a paper or my citation just because I believe in putting down sources and showing others how to research and why citing is freakin important. 

Let’s get started: I’m going to summarize everything that will be in here for a second

1. Find your method of studying, find out everything. AND I MEAN EVERYTHING. You need to write down how you study (the different types of study people) but also the classes because people study sciences different than humanities. 

2. Find out your most productive state. If this means it is you at 2 am in a suit and jacket than that means you need to leave procrastination station and be studying during that time. Now I am not totally okay with people studying in a suit for one it is uncomfortable, I think a jeans and a clean tshirt is just as good. If you can be productive in sweatpants or pjs then go for it. I know I am not and it doesn’t work when I dress for relaxation.

Okay, I’ll be going into more in depth of mainly the first one but a bit of the second.

To start off the bat, if you have time watch this lecture https://youtu.be/IlU-zDU6aQ0 by Marty Lobdell. You have probably heard the saying before and one thing that makes me so frustrated within the study community is that others use this statment without giving any real examples. I feel like Lobdell does this as well as he doesn’t describe note taking and I do believe before putting down a material, you have to take notes. (All he mentions is handwriting notes and I do believe in that. You cannot really type notes and expect to learn the material). 

Another source I would suggest is the Vark Quiz (https://vark-learn.com/the-vark-questionnaire/) Learn what type you are (I’m a Kinesthetic!) and read what they give you. I’m not going to say you will perfectly match with your description but if you are starting from ground zero, this is an amazing place to see what might work for you instead of you having to come up with different technques on your own. 

I get so annoyed when people use the pomodoro method as a way to study. It is not a way to study. It is a way to schedule your study time. Also, I don’t think you can do much in 25 minutes or maybe it is just me. Usually I work for an hour or 50 minutes and then take a ten minute break. All you need to do is find out what works for you. 

Okay let’s get into classes, first there is an amazing youtuber named Nathan Wu who made this video (https://youtu.be/pdAt8JhBnMU and there is a part 2 but I’ll let you guys find it). He is a very good study youtuber that I do like to watch sometimes and I do appriciate that he is spreading correct information. I can give you guys an example of what worked for me in some of my classes (I also just wanna say I won’t be putting my grades on here nor anything really. I don’t feel comfortable being compared to others because I already have to deal with it at my own institution and peers. Please don’t compare yourself to others).

Chemistry (Wu also does include this subject in his video):

- Write notes and explanations for the love of god. Like please just write notes. 

- Also apply those notes. If you are confused in one area ask someone for help whether that be your teacher or someone else. 

-I would say to use flashcards, but I’m honestly a big quizlet user (I haven’t used Anki I’m a little weird and I get so annoyed when I use something that is popular. I sadly give off the “i’m not like other girls vibe”). When I use quizlet every time I get an answer wrong I write down the definition. I can explain this more because you can do this with notecards as well and probably Anki but I like the mobility of quizlet. 

-Labs... I do like doing some labs. I miss my older ones from Honors Chemistry, I barely do good labs in AP Chemistry, but at the same time you have to do them. This could be for any science class because knowing how to apply your information is the best way to test your knowledge that isn’t practice questions (If you need labs look up a virtual simulation. While it isn’t the same thing they are usually free and if not you can find some on youtube).

- Practice problems (this more or less goes with your grading point instead of studying. While I do believe the overall goal in studying is that you understand and can apply the topic tests are so different in many things). As stated before I have taken Honors Chemistry, so I used test prep from my teacher and was able to form questions similar to how she asked them on the quiz. In AP Chemistry I’ve been able to use the online resources from other teachers and AP Classroom. I will say AP Chemistry it is much harder to write my own questions because AP Chemistry is just really hard in general, but finding FRQ practices I believe is one of the best ways you can work on it (Honestly it may be just me but doing FRQs or written essays for answers is so much better than multiple choice because this allows you to practice giving explanations and learning where your gap of knowledge is).

Another study technique I like to do is called the Feynmann technique. This is such a great way to apply knowledge without doing test prep because you need to essentially master your subject before test prep. This method includes creating a study plan for someone else, you need to teach someone else (or something else) what you’re learning and have them ask questions. Know I know this doesn’t really work well for some people including myself because I don’t really have others to talk to when I study but talk to yourself. (sometimes I talk to a ghost or a plushie in my room. I have little trinkets on my desk of which a tiger egg and a Chick Fil A cow plushie wearing a sunflower dress. Just try it, it might seem weird but you got to). If you can’t have others ask you questions say everything you can remember (and maybe do this on a google doc with the voice chat box open, I would say record yourself but I hate hearing my own recordings). Then, once you have finished look through your notes and see what you got correct and what you got wrong. If you did use a google docs then write what you meant to say like: “I said this... but this was incorrect because of this...”

For study schedule or something related to studying I would say watch these videos: https://youtu.be/-m2Ua5Y0mzc and https://youtu.be/OYuhkaOPKcM. Both are by youtubers who I do like to watch and follow what they do. I would say to look through Alicia’s youtube a bit more if you like electronic organization AND the true studyblr (girl can do beautiful calligraphy). I believe I align more with Keo Tsang, who studies later at night rather than earlier than the morning. Tsang does get more hours of sleep than me (haha). If you are in high school please don’t do what he does though. I try to go to bed by midnight because then I’ll get six hours of sleep, and I can sleep on the bus (it takes me an hour to get to school). I also have a free first period where I can sleep if I need to or catch up on work from last night if I didn’t do it. I do like to work when there is sunlight but also coming home from school and taking a detox or a break is so much better for my mental health. I know it will be different when in university but I’d just say this to any high school student, please do a mental detox. Don’t go on social media and scroll endlessly maybe listen to some music, read a book, take a walk/run, my sister would bake after a long stressful day and her food- while not the best- got her in a good mood. 

I think this is all I’ll write today. I still need to do so much work myself haha but I am a big procrastinator and also I did have a break down a little while ago. Just know you are worth everything and in the end, every problem is going to have some type of solution even if there is no solution. Your life doesn’t need to be answered today or tomorrow so let’s work on becoming better students one step at a time :)

[natsukitakama]

Being in relationship with Zeke Yeager would include

*looking respectfully* 

Author note : I know some people aren’t quite found of him and I can understand. But I know some of you simp for him (me too don’t worry). I hope you’ll enjoy this. 

i do not own that gif I found it on google so credit to the owner (if you know them please let me know)

Warning : mention of spoiler if you haven’t season 2, 3 et 4 / slight nsfw cause I’m going to hell / fluffy because we derserve it 

Masterlist 

Annoying. Not in a bad way but this man can’t shut up, he always has something to tell just because he loves seeing you getting flustered or angry because of him. 

That’s just how he is. He loves teases people and get the most of them. It’s even worse with his S/O 

Typically if you want to kiss him (private or in public won’t matter although he might prefers being private about his relationship) he would litteraly make you beg for it. « Couldn’t you wait until we’re home ? So needy Y/N » 

Since he was educated to be a leader he is pretty god at reading people’s body language and won’t hesitate to use it on you. 

Not a surprise here you barely got a fight : the man barely loses his temper and since he can read you like an open book he knows exactly what to do to avoid situation like this. 

Nonetheless it doesn’t mean he can’t provide every argument. So yeah times to times you two fight, most of the time because you know he is hiding something from you, and everytime you confront him about it he just brushes if off telling you, you’re being paranoid or something. 

Although he got a huge ego so yeah he might act as if he was smarter than you and would tell you so.

He is kinda mean and cold and even though he is trying his best to cherish you, sometimes he says things he shouldn’t tell. It ends up with you crying or trying not to (but he can tell) and just leave him. 

Man he hates it. Everytime he got to see his grandparents and everytime they scold him for being an assholes to you. 

And everytime he could come back to you with a gift either a book that you might be interest on, flowers or even jewellery if you are into that. 

He would apologize for being a dick to you

100% end up making sweet love just to be sure he is forgiven (also because he misses your touch but shhh he has a reputation) 

Don’t lie to him. He would know. As I said before he can read people and especially your body’s language. It took you a long time before owning his trust, don’t give him reason to not trust you : it you want to say something tell him.

He is pretty blunt himself so he won’t mind and actually would love it if you are confident and comfortable enough with him to talk about anything

Like I said earlier he might want to be cautious with your relationship, not because he is ashamed or anything but he knows that not everyone loves him and he is afraid that they might use you against him as a threat. He can’t tolerate that (also because he will betray his own army, he doesn’t want you to get hurt or worst because of him) 

Yeah because you’re not a part of his plan, he never talked about anything related to his plan. 

It might surprise you but I don’t think he is actually good at flirting. He is pretty blunt and not that subtle, he won’t go as far as to say « I think you’re hot » on your first meeting but still you will notice that he was more talkative with you. 

Maybe it’s a fantaisie of mine but I think he would love send you letters : he tends to be more sensual while writing. You always got a letter when you start your day at work and if he couldn’t manage to be with you that or even call you during work, he’ll send you another one with flower to apologize. 

But he can be smooth when he wants to, especially when he is teasing you : that’s his way of flirting with you. He can’t help but feel like he has to tease you just to see you with a pout on your face. (His heart melt everytime he saw you like this) 

He tends to be more rough with his teasing if he is dating a male than a women, his grandma raise him to treat women like queen so he will oblige. 

He daydreams a lot about you, sometimes it’s just about you laying on his chest sleeping like a baby, he could literally feel your soft hair on his hands as he stroke them. Sometimes it’s more sensual, as he could easily remember the touch of your skin against his hands, the whimper that left your lips each time he is kissing you, sucking you, bitting you, the way you gripped his shoulder as he was pouding into your core relentless. 

It didn’t help that everything seemed to remember him of you, when he is drinking is usual coffee at 10 AM he got a memory of you cooking his breakfast whistling softly as you were happy to cook some meal for your man. When is having his tea after his lunch time the flower scent coming from his tea makes him of your perfume. His book and paper on his desk, reminds him of you when you’re overworking, claiming that your mess make actually sense for you and that no you weren’t just too lazy to clean up. 

If he claims himself to be good when it came to emotion and to keep everything for himself, his grand-parent noticed something about his behavior. He seemed more clean and presentable (not that it wasn’t the case but he wasn’t the one to take extra attention of his looks), he was more polite always trying to not swear or at least not that much, they noticed him looking somewhere as if he was looking for someone. 

Sometimes he calls you just to annoy his superior (cause he knows they survey him), just to talk about anything but especially to talk trash about some embarrassing things. But since he never used a name or something they never know if he was talking to you or someone he just slept with. Occasionally he would talk about embarrassing story about this superior, he knows he won’t be punished otherwise it would be a proof that he was telling the truth earlier. 

He is possessive not like Porco or Eren where they would let their anger scare the poor people trying to talk to you, he is smart enough to know when someone is hitting on you or when someone is just speaking to you. But still, he doesn’t like when he sees somebody being too touchy on you. How dare they ? He is commander, smart, handsome, strong and that poor people think they could challenge him ? 

During time like this after, kicking that poor person out of your way, he would take you home. Don’t ever think you leave this house, he won’t stop loving you until you can’t walk and the only thing you could remember is his own name. 

Be careful, Zeke is patient very patient. 

If you think he won’t edge you until you’re crying mess for release you’re wrong. He tends to tease you and make you beg to cum, so when he feels like he has to remind you who you belong to, one word can describe your night with him : intense (yeah because not only will he edge you but he’ll also overstimulate you and if you’re crying because it’s too much he would just look at you as if he was surprised « oh ? Too much ? But I thought you wanted to cum ?". 

He doens’t want children for multiple reason and he won’t like if you keep ask him about it : he doesn’t want to be a father please respect his decision. (He would try to explain to you his opinion so it won’t appear as a selfish decision) 

Some nights, he feels guilty for not explaining to you his plan, what he wants for future but he knows it’s for your own sake. You couldn’t take it and he is aware that he is not mean to last forever and than one day you would wake up and he won’t be there for you, he is already acting like a an asshole because he is taking your love while he knows he would die eventually (quicker than you he hopes), he won’t put any pressure because of his plan. 

[mel-the-fangirl]

The Escort

Walter Marshall x Reader

Words: 2,064

Warnings: none

Happy super late Valentine’s, Cavillry! As usual, this is a very very late upload but in my defense, it does say in my bio that I am a procrastinator soooo... Anyway, I’m really excited about this miniseries because I love the movie (The Wedding Date, 2005) and I really wanted to write Walter, I hope I do him justice!

Feedback (good and bad!) means the world to me as rookie writer, so I hope you’ll like, reblog and leave me some replies!

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You could not believe you were doing this. You just couldn't. But there you were doing it, even though your mind screeched at you to stop and save a little dignity for yourself.

The fact that you even considered doing this was already a serious loss of dignity points, so what the hell. People did this all the time, didn’t they? There wouldn’t be a whole network of people clumped into this app if it wasn’t a normal occurrence.

It just wasn’t a normal occurrence for you.

Once you filled your head with rationalisations to make yourself feel better, you took a deep breath and began browsing through what the great city of New York had to offer.

Z, 6’, loving hands, fit, athletic, good manners, for water sports, caramel complexion.

For water sports? What in the hell did that mean? And that single initial in place of an actual name? Serial killer vibes. No, thank you.

Lenny, 6’2”, pretty fit Italian, excellent dinner companion, all occasions catered.

Alright. Okay. Now we’re talking. Tall, European, excellent dinner companion equals to good conversationalist, accommodating. Lenny goes on the list of possibilities.

Terry, 6’, my soft voice will arouse you, my strong hands will pleasure you,  let me show you how a woman should be treated, hourly/overnight rates.

Oh no no no. Major creep vibes from Terry. That ad alone had you reaching for another long swig of wine.

Joey, 5’8”, are you into champagne?, bodybuilder, will treat you like a queen.

“If you like piña coladas…” you sang in not even remotely the right key, topping off your drink

Josh, 5’9”, I can make you feel sexy and wanted. Fit, sensual, strong.

“Well!” you exclaimed drunkenly, almost spilling wine on your couch, “Tough beans, Josh! I don’t need a man to make me feel sexy and wanted!” you faltered a bit, your drunk mind still seeing the holes in your logic

“I just… Need a man to help me not look like a tragic spinster in front of my family and my ex...”

With that thought fresh in your mind, you reached for some more wine.

The ads went on and on as you scrolled through your phone, it was all a little overwhelming, how were you going to make sure you weren't hiring some psychopathic serial killing pervert to pose as your date to your sister's wedding?

The groan you let out bounced off the walls of your apartment. The reality of your situation was sinking in little by little. 

Yes. You were hiring a male escort for your sister's wedding. It was your baby sister's wedding, by the way. You were a hundred percent aware that what you were doing was completely and utterly pathetic but you’ve already weighed the pros and cons in your head countless times.

Showing up alone: pitying looks, whispering behind your back, having to face ex by yourself, staggering levels of embarrassment.

Showing up with handsome -hired- date: mother can finally get off your back, date is more handsome than ex, ex will want to shrivel up and die, no one will know date is male escort except you and him.

Now, let’s break down some of the guests just for the sake of being thorough. 

There’s your slightly overbearing mother (slightly meaning every call you have with her opens with the question: “how's your love life, dear?” or “I have the most amazing man to set you up with!”), all of her judgy eagle-eyed friends (mostly rich widows whose sons your mom shamelessly shoves your way), your extended family (some terrifyingly old school great aunts and uncles who will definitely ask if you’re married and smile sympathetically when you say you’re not), and last but certainly not the least, Jeffrey, your ex-fiancé (best man, but apparently not the best man for you, his words not yours).

"Lordy fuck." you exhaled hard, chugging your wine straight from the bottle

How on earth did you get here? Sitting alone in your apartment, working your way through your second bottle of wine (or third? Who was keeping count?), clicking on ads that spoke of "hot single males in your area" waiting to meet you.

Would it be fair to pin it all on the end of your engagement?

Picturing that moment, you decided that it was only fair. Those were five years of your life you would never get back, you were prepared to sign on for more but, yeah.

You were blindsided, that's the only way to describe it. All the while, you thought that you and Jeffrey were on the same page, at the same place in life. You were the golden couple, the couple that all the other couples wished they could be, when you two walked past, girlfriends would give their boyfriends a slap on the shoulder that meant, "Why can't we be more like them?"

It was so out of nowhere, one minute you were discussing wedding cake options over dinner, then suddenly you're putting the ring in his palm, completely in shock. 

After that, you threw yourself into your work despite the fact that you were already a budding workaholic to begin with. That's how you ended up earning six figures a year. 

Six figure salary, check. Doing pretty well in life all things considered, check.

But even with all that, there weren't any conversations over casseroles and cobblers about your many achievements. Nope, your mother and her friends would much rather discuss their worries that you would essentially, die alone.

Your little sister, Amy, getting married before you didn't exactly help to put a lid on all the chatter. And with Jeffrey being the best man? And you being maid of honour? 

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Maybe you could make up an excuse believable enough to get you off the hook so you wouldn’t have to go?

Were you really thinking about bailing on your little sister’s wedding? If she wasn’t taking cues from your mother, it would be the only one she ever had.

Not one of your finest moments as a sibling.

With the complications of your situation fully realised, you took to reading the ads with a little more effort. Luckily, you didn’t have to look for long.

Nick, 6’, male, tall, good looking, strong build. You will not be disappointed.

The ad was considerably less flashy than the others but you supposed that’s what drew you to it in the first place. It was understated, simple, and his ad wasn’t entirely made up of overcompensating flexing pics.

Mostly because he didn’t need them.

Call off the search, send the boys home. You had a winner here!

Staring up at you from your phone screen was the most handsome man you have ever seen in your life. Literally.

A mane of thick, artfully disheveled curly hair, eyes that were a light shade of blue that had a sort of dark intensity and intelligence that you could spend days trying to understand, and a smile. Oh, that smile was absolutely suckerpunching. It was odd though, something in your head was telling you that this man did not smile often.

You couldn’t tell if the warmth blooming in your chest and creeping towards your cheeks was from all the wine or from examining this prime specimen. Jeez Louise!

“Phew!” you fanned yourself upon stumbling on a photo of him crossing his arms in a tank top. Good God, you hoped he had a license for those guns!

You had to set your phone down for a minute to think things through although it seemed absolutely nuts that you had to think twice at all. It’s just that after the initial excitement and hormones wore off, it was becoming more and more evident that this man was too good to be true.

Just look at him! Were there actually men that looked like that? And why didn’t they live closer to you? A quick sweep of his profile placed him in Minneapolis.

What were the crime rates like there? And did they have a high rate of murders relating to escort services?

Before you could even google anything related to that, you stopped yourself. If you kept at this rate, you would never get anything done! Finally, after a methodical deliberation (aka ogling the pictures on his ad), you saved Nick’s contact number to your phone.

Aaand that’s as far as you’d go for the night. You could call him tomorrow when you weren’t a floundering drunk. It was like your mother always said, “Always be sober for a business transaction, but anything else calls for a cocktail.”

-------------------------

The following morning, you sat at your little breakfast nook, eggs still piping hot and untouched, and a hangover in full effect. You’ve been staring at the phone number for so long, you could say it in your sleep.

Come on, Y/N, the wedding is five freaking days away.

What if this guy was fully booked? You didn’t want to spend five days surrounded by family with Mr. my-soft-voice-will-arouse-you, did you?

You slammed your finger down on the call icon and stuck the phone to your ear. Your heart beat faster and faster with every ring and your palms became so slick with sweat that you almost dropped your phone a couple of times. 

Maybe you should have taken your mother up on the multiple occasions that she wanted to set you up with someone. Alright, on second thought, you didn’t really want to be with someone who only looked good on paper but was actually an insufferable mama’s boy.

“Hello?” a male voice answered, catching you off-guard

Oh, God. Okay, you’re really doing this.

“Yes, hi! Hi. Uh, I’m looking for Nick!” you chirped, in a startled high pitched squeak you didn’t dare recognise as your own

The silence on the other end was starting to make you sweat behind the knees. It suddenly dawned on you that you didn’t mention any specifics.

“Uh, sorry! I got this number from the, uh, the ad. I’m looking for Nick?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s right, but Nick isn’t in right now. This is his manager.”

Was that a good sign? That a male escort had a manager? Did all male escorts have managers? You clearly didn’t know enough about this stuff.

“It’s a pleasure, Mister..?”

There was another beat of silence before the person on the other line answered, you tried your hardest not to overthink about what that could have meant.

“Foley! I’m Foley, Nick’s manager.” Mr. Foley’s voice returned to your ear, sounding much too bright for your liking. 

Christ, what were you, a cop? To be honest, you were exhausted. Despite all the alcohol in your system last night, you barely got any sleep. You spent the rest of the night reading through some reviews of Nick’s service as an escort.

He had a glittering five star rating.

One woman hired him to pose as her husband at a high school reunion and by the end of the night, she ended up proposing to him. He respectfully declined and even bought her dinner afterwards.

That review alone was enough to convince you that you would be in good hands. So, it was time to buckle down, swallow the nerves, and handle your business like the adult you were.

“Mr. Foley,” you shook your hair out and put on your professional voice. “I’d like to book your client for five days, give or take. I need a plus one for a wedding. Is he available to leave on the-”

“Please hold. I’ll check his schedule.”

“Oh. But I didn’t mention when I-”

“He’s available. Would you prefer to pick him up at JFK or will he meet you at your place of residence?”

“Oh. Uh, I guess I could pick him up. Do I pay for his ticket or..?” you were feeling a teensy bit of whiplash at how fast this was all going

There was some rustling on the other line and the muffled sounds of bickering. You tried not to let that concern you.

“We’ll handle that, Ms. Y/L/N. We have your number, we’ll be in touch for further details. Good bye.”

The line went dead and you were left staring at your phone in confusion. Did you tell him your name?

[amygdalagustd]

Kim Namjoon on Identity

Namjoon explores the concept of identity time and time again in his life and in his music. He tends to focus on how different parts of himself might be in conflict with each other, and the tensions and confusion that goes with that experience. People are filled with duality, sometimes to the point that it tears us apart. The question of “who am I?” seems a simple one, but underneath it lies a lot of complexity. Who do I want to be? Who do other people want me to be? How much of my identity is formed by my past? Can I change who I am? Can I be multiple things at the same time? Who is the real me? What does it even mean to be the real me?

The question of “who am I?” seems to both fascinate and terrify Namjoon. In this essay we will tackle the question together as I explore all the different ways that Namjoon contemplates identity in lyrics and interviews.

From his decision to become a rapper in the first place to the struggle of taking care of himself as a world famous idol to the questioning of what having an identity actually means, we will travel through Namjoon’s career and highlight all the moments that he asks himself:

“Who the hell am I?”

It’s no secret that Namjoon was a very intelligent and driven student who got good grades in school. In his earlier lyrics he often writes about the pressure that was put on him to succeed and follow a certain path in life. As someone who was good at studying it was expected of him to prioritize his education above all else. Namjoon fit into that role well, but behind the scenes his heart was longing for music. He discovered rap and decided that he wanted a different path for his life. BTS’s early work is filled with messages of following your dreams and not letting other people decide what type of life you want to live. Namjoon often talked about the struggles of living in between the expectations of those around him and his own desires for his future. Some of those conflicting feelings are expressed in Voice, the intro song to his 2015 mixtape RM:

Straight A student and underground rapper

I occupied myself all day with being graded with meaningless numbers like beef gets graded

I just wanted to succeed

because that’s the only thing I was told by others so much that I almost got sick of it

The mirage called happiness- I thought it would be held there

But, sitting at my desk, I was never happy, not for a single moment

I secretly hid a blank sheet of paper between the pages of my study book without my mom’s knowing

My identity that I wrote down along the sound of drums and bass

The feeling of breathing that is different from that of receiving grade reports

Even when I was the top of my class, my mind was never at ease

Is it absolutely necessary to want something that others want?

I secretly raise the volume of my voice

so that you can know, so that it can reach you

I again raise the volume of my voice

so that you can know, so that it can reach you

He also touches on the subject in Born Singer, which was released in 2013:

To be honest, I was scared that I was to prove myself after talking big

that I, who used to know only pen and book, was then to surprise the world

I dunno, that I and the world’s expectations are too asymmetric,

I was scared that I might betray everyone who trusted me

I stretch my burdened shoulders and step onto the very first stage

BTS and Namjoon will continue to talk about the pressure of society's expectations and the difficulty of following your own path in songs like No More Dream, N.O and School of Tears. Fighting back against the oppressive school system is a huge part of their message and mission in their early career. They ask their fans and themselves to look at the person that they are expected to become and question if that image is in line with their own dreams and desires. Namjoon wrestled with this question himself, and therefore has the experience and passion to guide others who might be struggling with their identity and the identity that is put on them.

Idol and artist

The concept of being an idol vs being an artist is one that comes back often in BTS lyrics. Namjoon is an underground rapper who ended up in a boyband, and the identity of being an idol is one that he has wrestled with quite a bit. Can you be both an idol and an artist? Does becoming an idol mean that you have to give up on being an artist? Does it matter if you call yourself an idol or an artist? Does it matter what other people say about it?

Namjoon mentions this conflicting identity in Awakening on his 2015 mixtape RM:

Every night I fight myself inside me

My heart pounds, and my colleagues stab me in the back

saying I became a cripple after going into a company

Yeah fuck you I’m an idol, yeah yeah i’m an idol

I hated it at one time but now I love to get that title

Unlike some keep denying [their identity] to the end on television,

I now fully accept myself, and I just do me

Whether I’m an idol or an artist- it actually never mattered

The way you guys look at me was what defined me

I was obsessed over titles and hung up on how people described me

Listen to the rap of the guy who became a bit smarter as time passed

Namjoon gets shit for being an idol from the underground rap scene and gets shit for being an artist from the idol scene. He is hovering in between, writing his rap lyrics with the power and authenticity of a hip hop artist while simultaneously dancing and looking like a full fledged boyband member. He responds to this dilemma with unwavering pride, the drive to prove himself and a fuck you attitude. This energy dominates a lot of early BTS music. They are still trying to find their place in the industry while not really knowing where exactly they belong. Songs like the Cyphers and Mic Drop highlight the anger they feel about the mistreatment they face from both sides of the industry while boasting about their accomplishments and pride in who they are. Just like Namjoon in Awakening, Yoongi also often mentions his struggles with the identity of being an idol in his solo work. In Idol, the title track of the 2018 album Love Yourself: Answer, BTS face the subject head on:

You can call me artist

You can call me idol

Or you can call me anything else

I don’t care

I’m proud of it

I’m free

No more irony

Because I’ve been me all the time

You can point your fingers at me, I don’t care at all

Whatever reason you have to denigrate me,

I know what I am

I know what I want

I never gon’ change

I never gon’ trade

Why do you talk loud “blah blah”

I do what I do, so mind your own business

You can’t stop me loving’ myself

Idol is a proud, joyful, wonderfully weird and confident self love anthem. It’s a celebration of who BTS are at their core. In the song, they have accepted all the different aspects of their identity and they don’t feel the need to fit in with just one label. In the future, they will go on to say that BTS’s genre is just BTS, and they see no point in categorizing themselves.

RM and Namjoon

In 2018, BTS released a documentary series called Burn The Stage. The series followed them throughout the Wings tour and was supposed to show a more raw version of them.

In episode 6, Namjoon said:

Being an idol star, you don’t have a choice but to have two identities. I invested a lot in my identity as BTS and RM, and this is really a dilemma. We need to find ways to overcome this, and I’m trying different things. I study, I read books. I need time to be wholly me, the original me that I know.

Everyone in BTS has a stage name, a person they become when they present themselves in front of their fans. On stage Namjoon is RM, a fierce and confident rapper, a powerful and charming performer, a dependable leader and someone who lives a fiery and intense life.

Behind the scenes, Namjoon is Namjoon, a man in his twenties who is trying to figure out how to be an adult just like everyone else. He likes to go on bike rides, take care of plants, go to museums, read books and spend time in nature. He gets lazy and reads webtunes for 5 hours straight and sometimes argues with the people around him because they annoy him.

Namjoon spends the years of his youth as part of BTS, in the public eye, and sometimes that causes tension between these different parts of himself; the stage persona and the private person. In Break The Silence: The Movie which came out in 2020, there was a lot of talk about identity. During one of Namjoon’s segments he said:

There is also the fear of how well I’m taking care of myself, the Kim Namjoon as a person. Aside from money, fame, and a sense of calling, what do I really have? When you have those things all other things start to feel really valuable. Those who don’t have them would find them really special. I think it’s a repetition of that, so for me, there is a fear about whether I’m faithfully living the story of my life to the fullest.

He also mentions this dilemma in Airplane pt.2 on the 2018 album Love Yourself: Tear where the lyrics go:

Who should I live as today, Kim Namjoon or RM?

25, I still don’t know how to live well

For Namjoon and anyone in BTS, there is no simple answer to this question, as the nature of their job puts them in a position that makes it hard for them to develop a sense of self outside of the work they are doing. Even though Namjoon is part of an incredibly successful band, that doesn't mean he got it all figured out. As he has poured his youth and his energy into becoming the best performer he can be, he now feels like the Kim Namjoon behind the scenes deserves some energy and space to exist too.

Rap Monster and RM

Before Namjoon was RM, Namjoon was Rap Monster, a stage name that he used until November of 2017. The name Rap Monster fits the fierce and somewhat angst-ridden style of music that Namjoon was making in the beginning of his career. He decided to move on from the name in 2017 because it was no longer representative of him and the music that he was making.

In an interview with Entertainment Tonight Namjoon said that RM could stand for many things. He mentioned Real Me as one of the possibilities, but seems to prefer not to pin one specific meaning to the name.

In another interview with J-14 Magazine when asked what kind of advice he would give to himself in 2013, he said:

Hey Namjoon, Don’t name yourself Rap Monster. You’re a human. You’re not a monster. You’re a beautiful human.

Namjoon has often said that one of his missions in life is to love himself. This struggle to love himself often reflects in his lyrics, and now also in his decision to change his stage name, as the old one had some negative connotations to it. Perhaps Namjoons struggle with self acceptance, self worth and self love is one of the reasons that identity is such a big theme for him, as he is trying to figure out how to be a Namjoon that he can love. RM is a stage name that is more aligned with that goal as it leaves more room for flexibility and change.

Map of the Soul

The subject of identity is explored to the fullest in the Map of the Soul era that started with Map of the Soul: Persona in 2019, followed up by Map of the Soul: 7 in 2020.

Map of the Soul is inspired by the ideas of psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Carl Gustav Jung. The words persona, shadow and ego that are used in Map of the Soul come directly from his theory. BTS uses these concepts to examine different parts of themselves and their career over time. A lot of this era feels like a final examination of the question that Namjoon has been asking himself in different ways throughout his entire career: Who am I?

In Intro: Persona, the opener to both albums, Namjoon writes about his journey with identity in the first few lines of the song:

“Who am I,” a question that I’ve been asking myself for my whole life

A question that I will probably never be able to find the right answer for

If I were answerable with only a few words,

God wouldn’t have created all those many beauties

Namjoon realizes that he will probably never have a clear answer to the question of “who am I?” and he accepts that. He recognizes that his identity can’t be summed up by a few words or traits and that this isn’t a bad thing. Sometimes it can feel more secure to build our entire sense of identity around one aspect of ourselves (I am a straight A student, I am an underground rapper) but that puts us in a position without flexibility and without space for growth. As different parts of ourselves clash with each other we end up feeling scattered, unsure of who we are, and angry at ourselves. It’s only when those different parts of ourselves are allowed to co-exist that we can find peace and a true sense of self.

BTS will talk about this idea in other songs too, like in Idol, where Taehyung sings:

There are tens and hundreds of myself within me

Today, I greet my another self

They are all me after all,

so I just run rather than worrying

The notion also comes back in the speech that BTS held for the United Nations in 2018. The final message of that speech was to find your name and find your voice by speaking yourself. There was a lot of talk about losing your identity as a young child in favor of fitting in, and Namjoon encouraged everyone to be their own person and to find their own voice back. Throughout the speech he mentions how he is both an idol and artist, Kim Namjoon and RM, and also just an ordinary 24 year old guy. He is saying that he can be many things at once and strives to love all those different parts of himself at the same time.

In the final verses of Intro: Persona, Namjoon boldly and confidently claims that he is no longer ashamed of the different parts inside of him, writing:

Yeah my name is R

The ‘me’ who I remember and who people know

The ‘me’ who I created by myself to speak my mind

Yeah, I might have been deceiving myself, I might have been lying

But, I’m not ashamed of it, this is the map of my soul

The lyrics continue, focusing on duality, complexity and balance within his identity, accepting the different parts of himself that coexist together even if they clash:

Dear myself

You must never lose your temperature

because you don’t need to be warm or cold

Though I might sometimes pretend I’m good and sometimes pretend I’m evil,

this is the barometer of my direction that I want to set

The ‘me’ who I want to be

The ‘me’ who people want

The ‘me’ who you love

And the ‘me’ who I craft

The ‘me’ who’s smiling

The ‘me’ who’s crying sometimes

Living and breathing every second, every moment, even now

Within these lyrics there is a tone of direction and intent rather than one of being lost and questioning. This tone is very strong throughout the entire Map of the Soul concept, especially in ON, suggesting that maybe “finding” your identity isn’t about anxiously defining every single part of your personality, it’s more about choosing who you want to be and boldly pursuing the world as an incomplete human being. In the end, there is no simple answer to the question of “who am I?” and that’s okay.

All lyrics translations come from Doolset. Visit the website for additional notes and interpretations of BTS lyrics.

[yabai-korra]

Eris getting some of Nesta's powers and his importance in the future

Y'all I'm 90% sure some of Nesta's power has been transferred to Eris, at first it occurred to me in a sort of "ha, could be" way but I'm pretty certain, hear me out! Also going to touch on the subject of Nesta not losing her powers completely.

The power in the dagger

Nesta Made the dagger and put some of her own power into it, and then Eris got that dagger as a present by Inner Circle, which wasn't really a necessary scene nor plot point unless you read between the lines.

KINGDOM OF ASH SPOILERS AHEAD!

We have seen the exact same thing in Kingdom Ash, Aelin lost all of her power but an ember, but beforehand put it in her sword Goldryn and whooped Maeve's ass, actually head lol, with it. Having power shoot out of her hands and her sword felt pretty much the same so I'm sure Nesta will be equally powerful in the next book! Not only does she have a bit of her power left, three weapons filled with her power, and the Dread Trove. Nesta is still the most powerful character 😎

If Nesta can put some of her power into a weapon, it doesn't seem like a stretch at all for the power in the weapon to get out and into a person.

Eris only pretended to be influenced by Koschei

This one was kinda obvious to me from the moment I read it, no psychoanalyzing needed.

Nesta and her weapons were said to "probably" grant immunity from Koschei's power because they were both Made, and Eris had the dagger while he when he was captured.

Every person that has been possessed by Koschei has been said to have glassy eyes, EVERYONE except Eris!

Eris's soldiers had glassy eyes.

Bellius had glassy eyes.

Cassian had glassy eyes.

Eris is the only "possessed" person to get "accidentally" caught.

Eri's soldiers said nothing, and it was Briallyn who reveal that Bellius and Cassian were possessed.

Out of Cassian, Bellius, Eris, and his soldiers, Eris is undoubtedly the slickest and most cunning one. Comparison between him and Cassian has been dragged throughout the whole book, while Cassin is the muscle, Eris plays mind games and politics.

ERIS IS THE MASTER AT WORD GAMES! How did Cass and Az realize he was possessed and therefore Koschei being there? THROUGH ERIS USING A WORD GAME he knew only Cass and Az will pick up on.

Are y'all trying to tell me that Eris, who supposedly had immunity from the Koschei's power, didn't show the only sign of being possessed which is glassy eyes, had accidentally said something that will let Cass and Az know he's "possessed"?

Golden flames

The word "flame" has been used in 4 different contexts throughout the book

a) actual fire in the fireplace

b) silver flames in Nesta's eyes

c) flames in Lucien's eyes

d) flames in Eris's eyes

We know that Autumn Court's power is fire, both Lucien and Eris were described to have red flames in their eyes, which is completely expected right?

Eris was said to have flame/red flame multiple times, but I'm only allowed ten pics per post, and obviously not gonna put quotes of Nesta's silver flames cause it's literally the title lol.

Then, when Eris was "possessed" and held a dagger to Cassian's chest, it was said that flame rippled from it, and Cass didn't know if it came from the dagger itself or from Eris.

My guess? Both or combined! When Eris received the dagger, he said that it has flame in it, and Eris is said to have had flames in his eyes previously.

Last but not least, AFTER Eris had been "possessed" and AFTER the dagger was returned to the Night Court, ERIS NOT LONGER HAS RED FLAME IN HIS EYES, BUT GOLD.

This was in the penultimate chapter! Aka the chapter before the last. SJM always takes great care to put something important or foreshadowish at the end of each book. The last chapter was obviously Nessian and Archeron sisters, since it was the Nessian book and the three sisters are all finally happy together (plus announcing the next book as Elain's) but chapter before that... about Eris? Interesting.

There was so much about him there I for a second thought the next book is going to be about him lol. So much to unpack in that chapter:

Eris was tortured by his father for information (which I think is the hint for Eris not being possessed).

Eris still insists there are some things about him and Mor that Mor hasn't told the Inner Circle.

He wants to explain something to Mor.

He obviously just wants to be friends with the Inner Circle (but that's a discussion for another post).

Cassian, who hates Eris with burning passion throughout the whole book, says he thinks Eris is a good guy, but is too much of a coward to act like it.

It was hinted that Beron did much worse things to Eris during his life, "The male had been raised with every luxury and privilege - on paper. But who knew what terrors Beron had inflicted upon him? Cassin knew Beron had murdered Lucien's lover. If the High Lord of Autumn had been willing to do that, what wouldn't he do?" If you ever read any SJM serials you would know that this wasn't put here just because, it's always foreshadowing with her.

"Because it doesn't add up. You know what a monster your father is and want to usurp him; you act against him in the best interests of not only the Autumn Court but all of the faerie lands; you risk your life to ally with us... and yet you left her in the woods." - Cassian. Do you see all the material for the future book?

"Eris crossed his arms, then winced. As if whatever injuries lay beneath his immaculate clothes ached." I THINK THIS IS A DESCRIPTION OF NOT ONLY ERIS'S CURRENT SITUATION, BUT HIS WHOLE LIFE. As Cass said, born in luxury, raised by a monster.

Eris is generally very fucked up? Not only was it in this last chapter, but it was stated multiple times that his upbringing really damaged him. When Cassian was surprised by the fact Beron tortured him, Eris responded with: "Get that pitying look off your face. I know what sort of creature my father is. I don't need your sympathy." That is an extremely fucked up way to respond to being tortured by one's father, and implicates he was subjected to similar misery earlier in his life.

"Nesta could see he didn't believe them - that he was so used to twisted politics and scheming of his court that even when the simple, easy truth was offered, he could not see it." Again, very messed up mindset, which in the author's language means writing material.

The last line said to Eris in the book is: "Eris was still their ally. Was willing to be tortured to keep their secrets. And Cassian didn't need to be a courtier to know his next words would slice deep, but it would be a necessary wound. Perhaps it would be enough to push him in the right direction. "You know, Eris, I think you might be a decent male, deep down, trapped in a horrible situation." He looked over his shoulder to find Eris's gaze blazing again. But only pity stirred in his chest, pity for a male who has been born into riches, but had been destitute in every way that truly mattered. In every way Cassian had been blessed - blessings that were now overflowing. So Cassian said; "I grew up surrounded by monsters. I've spent my existence fighting them. And I see you, Eris. You're not one of them. Not even close. I think you might even be a good male. You're just too much of a coward to act like it." This was said by Cassian, whom Eris insulted every time they interacted, who hurt his sister, who wanted to steal his mate, whom Cassian said he wanted to kill or leave to die on so so many occasions, who made Cassian feel stupid and insecure every chance he had, and yet Cass of all people found it in his big good heart to see the good in Eris and try to push him to be good.

And now, his eyes burn with golden flames.

There is so so much to unpack and reveal about Eris's character, and SJM couldn't be more obvious with pointing it out. He is definitely going to play a huge role in the next book(s). With his possible new powers, overthrowing Beron, healing from all the emotional and physical trauma inflicted upon him, revealing a lot of secrets he's been keeping, and finding a way to show his true colors.

Also I think Nesta might be the one to help him with it because she at some point says that she deserves to marry him because "she is just like him", and not only in a way that they both insulted Cassian. They both had/had demanding parents which made them cold and unfeeling, preferring to appear as assholes because they don't want and don't know how to be their true kind selves. I think she would a great friend and the best person to help him deal with everything.

And the way Eris obviously likes her which we've seen when they were dancing. How he saw that she really liked spinning around so he went out of his way to spin her on multiple occasions even though it wasn't in the dance protocol. I'm pretty sure that was his way of getting closer to her because he obviously can't do it with words.

[thetypedwriter]

Cold Iron Heart Book Review

Cold Iron Heart by Melissa Marr Book Review 

I don’t think many people are aware or have read the Wicked Lovely series by Melissa Marr, but that’s alright. I originally started this book blog as I had so many thoughts and feelings about the books I was reading and yet no one to share them with. 

So I might be talking to me, myself and I in this book review, but at the end of the day, it’s still a way for me to express how I feel about the literature I’m consuming even if no one else is reading this. 

Wicked Lovely is one of my favorite series from when I was young. I still remember very clearly how my love story with these books started as it was odd and coincidental. I was at the grocery store with my mom and a promised “quick” trip quickly turned into an hour-long shopping spree as my mother was prone to do. 

Back then I was in middle school, had no cell phone, and was bored out of my mind. So what is any pre-teen to do? I went over to the small, sad book selection in the grocery story and picked up the novel with the most interesting cover. 

This book was Wicked Lovely by Melissa Marr. 

I read it the rest of the day and finished it that night, consuming page after page. I was completely transfixed. It was dark, gritty, violent, sexy-all things that my twelve-year old self found entirely fascinating. 

It was a fantasy book about fairies, but these fairies were deadly, life-sized, cruel, violent, beautiful and loving. 

I’ve been enamored with fairies and fairy lore ever since. All because of this book and the series that followed. It hooked me in ways that I still don’t fully comprehend, but I understood then that I hadn’t read anything like it before and I was drawn into Melissa Marr’s world and never quite left it, even all these years later. I’ve gone back and re-read Wicked Lovely multiple times and each time I still found it enjoyable and alluring. 

Cold Iron Heart is a different beast. 

A few days ago, my best friend (who is a journalist) sent me an email saying that local Arizona author, Melissa Marr, was releasing a new book and that she might have the opportunity to interview her. 

I was ecstatic, of course, and not so subtly tried to persuade my friend to let me silently snoop in on the interview (I didn’t, by the way). 

It was then that I realized I hadn’t checked in on Melissa Marr for some time-what had she been writing? Imagine my surprise that one of my favorite series of all time not only had a new book-a prequel no less, but also several new short stories. 

I was flabbergasted. And beyond excited. 

So I ordered the book immediately and read it the moment it arrived on my doorstep to eventually find myself with...mixed feelings with a negative tinge. Okay, more than a tinge, more like a cascading waterfall of negative feelings. 

First off, the book is a prequel. 

Now. Melissa Marr could have done so many cool things with this. There are so many interesting characters that I would have loved to see more in depth or delve into their histories. 

Like Miach and Beira, for example. I’ve heard about the late Summer King since book 1, but never got to read about him as he was dead before the series began. However, his legendary love with Beira, the Winter Queen, would have been so incredibly bewitching to read about it, especially if it involved the birth of Keenan. 

This would have been an awesome choice. 

Irial and Niall would have been another incredible one, probably the best one. We’ve been told over and over again throughout the series that these two hot-heads with a past used to run the Dark Court together, wreaking havoc, taking lovers, seeking new heights, etc. 

But do we get to see this transfixing time? Nope. 

I would even have settled for a story about the Hunt, Sorcha and Bannanach, literally any character done in the right way. 

But...no. Melissa Marr decides to write a prequel that is literally a carbon copy of the first book Wicked Lovely, but innumerably worse. 

Everything in the prequel is exactly the same as the original novels. Miach is dead, Keenan is looking for his Summer Queen, the Winter Girl is pissed off for not being the chosen love of Keenan’s, Irial is temptation in the flesh, Niall and Irial are at odds, Bananach is causing discord, Sorcha is isolated and frigid, the list goes on and on. 

Nothing of consequence, novelty, or importance happens in this book. 

Frankly, it just felt like a terrible redo of the first novel, just set 100 years back. 

I didn’t give a single flying crap about Thelma or Tam or whatever her name was. She was a worse version of Leslie, of Aislinn, of every other cool female character we eventually get to read about in the main series. 

Thelma was contradictory in the worst of ways. She said one thing, like she would rely on no man and never have children and then turned around and did every single one of them like some sort of hypocrite galore. 

She was so irritating and boring to read about that I tended to skim her parts because it was just paragraph after paragraph of bitching and moaning about the same goddamn things over and over again: stay away from fairies, oh god this fairy likes me, no sex, no children, no love and then bam! She just throws it all away. 

Urgh. 

The worst part too is that this isn’t a well written book. It’s repetitive, quite boring at times, and caters way too much to the reader. 

Something I loved about the first Wicked Lovely is that Melissa Marr kinda just tosses you into her world and calls it a day. She doesn’t hold your hand or over explain. She just describes and lets you glean for yourself. 

I loved this aspect of the original series. I liked learning about her world and the characters this way. 

Cold Iron Heart spits on the idea of this concept. Marr repeats herself so much about the same things, who Irial is, what fairies are, why this is happening, that I grew increasingly irritated as the book went on. 

Who on earth is she explaining this for? New readers? Why in the world would any new reader start with this book? The newest one that comes after six others???? It makes no goddamn sense. 

So not only did I feel patronized and aggravated, but the love story between Thelma and Irial grated on me as there was no basis for their love. 

It was ridiculous with no shred of authenticity and I hated it, especially knowing that he already loves Niall and Leslie only to come back and say, “wait a moment! I had another true love that I’ve never mentioned before. Yeah. Her name was Thelma. Or Tam. Or whatever, I don’t know. I knew her for three days, most of which was just sex, and then I lost her after she had my baby but I conveniently forgot about it because of nonsensical plot! Hahahah, good right?”

No. Not good. Horrible. 

Overall, this book is a waste of time and trees. 

I don’t know why Melissa Marr even wrote and published this. I can see her writing this for herself because why not, but as a fan and a reader this was beyond disappointing. 

It’s like how all Harry Potter fans felt when J.K. Rowling wrote The Cursed Child and we got movies about Newt Scamander when we literally wanted anything else-Marauder series anyone??

It’s a particular kind of egregious offense when a favorite series or author of yours ends up ruining the canon you’re in love with. For that reason alone, I am stripping Cold Iron Heart from my heart and mind, like it never existed. 

Just like I did with Cursed Child, or the fact that you-know-who dies in Death Note (if you know, you know). I just...don’t believe it. It ruined all the lovely things Marr had previously written and the stories that defined so much of my love for YA, for fantasy, and for my own writing as a whole. 

I know for a lot of you this was a bumbling mess of a review with little to no clarity of the plot or who these characters are. Frankly, I’d be surprised if you are still reading if you didn’t know the book or the series in the first place, but that’s alright. 

Like I said at the beginning, this is a way to get my intense feelings and thoughts down onto paper and now that I have I feel marginally better, although still pissed off that this book exists and that I currently own it. 

Sigh. 

Well if you stuck around for the ride, I appreciate it. If you skipped this particular book review, I understand that too. 

Recommendation: Burn this book. However, if you want a gritty, tantalizing fantasy story, pick up the original Wicked Lovely and be whisked away into a world that has stuck with me since the first moment I read it on the fateful day at the grocery store. 

Score: 3/10

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: Love Note

GIF by imaginethesonsofipswich

Tyler Simms x Reader

Word Count: 1,168

Summary: Reader confesses their feelings for Tyler through a note. 

Passing time was always a chaotic in the halls of Spencer Academy. There was an allotted ten minutes in between periods to get to your next class, which could be difficult to navigate between the throngs of loitering bodies clogging up the halls and having multiple floors to climb. But the passing time after third period wasn’t too bad.

Well, if you were being honest with yourself, it was a great part of your day.

Hiding behind your locker door, you peered out of the corner of your eye to watch him. Him being Tyler Simms. Brunette, blue-eyed Adonis and adored academy student.

He was also your long-time crush.

It started during sophomore year, second semester when the two of you were assigned to be biology lab partners. Spending consistent time with him, you learned how smart he was, how sweet, how loyal. He was also one of the most non-judgmental people you’d ever met, a quality which was harder to come by at a private, prep academy like Spencer.

Several semesters later and you were still pining. Tyler hadn’t had anymore shared classes with you since sophomore biology but he still smiled and waved when you saw each other around, which was more than enough to keep the flame of your affections burning.

After today, your feelings wouldn’t be a secret anymore. You fingered the piece of paper in your hands, folded into a neat square. The note had undergone several drafts before it was deemed perfect and now all that was left was to deliver it.

Confessing outright was too much pressure. Not because Tyler was intimidating but because his status as a Son of Ipswich put him leagues above you in the social hierarchy of the school. Word of you confessing would spread and public opinion likely wouldn’t be kind to you. And speaking of Sons…

A blonde boy put his arm around Tyler with a laugh that traveled down the hallway. Reid Garwin was his best friend and wherever the blonde went, Tyler was quick to follow. You didn’t have a problem with Reid, on the contrary, you appreciated his wit and creativity.

But you weren’t keen on confessing with an audience, even if it was an audience of one and was your crush’s friend. Hence why you decided to go the route of writing out your feelings.

When the locker slammed shut and the boys walked away, you inhaled deeply to steel yourself. Time to be brave. Closing your own locker, you waded through traffic until you got in range of Tyler’s.

Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, you slid the note through one of the slanted slots near the top of the door. With a little push, the note disappeared without a trace.

Love note officially dropped off, you continued onto to class as normal, no one but you aware of what was waiting for Tyler. It happened swiftly and without fanfare, unlike what you had pictured in your mind. Now all that was left to do was wait and see what would happen.

You found it near impossible to focus during your class, your mind a foggy haze of anticipation and anxiety, and, before you knew it, it was lunch. 

A flick reverberated off of your forehead and you smacked the offending hand away from your face with a grimace, your friend giving you an expecting look, the two of you eating in your usual spot.

“Well?” they prompted. “How is Operation John Keats going?”

“Why did you decide on Operation John Keats again?” you asked, pushing your food around with a fork.

“Because it’s just all so ‘Bright Star.’ Tyler is obviously the Fanny Brawne to your yearning John Keats.”

Cutting off their argument with a roll of your eyes, you maintained that you were very much not like Keats. For one, you weren’t suffering from consumption and second, you could only wish to have that poet’s talent for words.

“Whatever, I’m still keeping the name. But really, have you heard anything from him?”

“No, nothing yet,” you lamented with a sigh. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but whichever it is, I’m freaking out at this point.”

They split off some of their cookie with a supportive smile and handed it over to share with you. “Keep positive. You’re great and he’d be lucky to go out with you. And if he ends up being a jerk, it would be an awful shame if something were to happen to his Hummer…”

Appreciating the sentiment, you talked them down, hiding your laughs behind your hand. Yes, it would be disappointing if your crush was unrequited, but he really was a nice guy and you would feel guilty if anything were to actually happen to his beloved car.

* * *

The next day started and still no word from Tyler, or even a sign that he had received the note. Maybe it fell on the floor when you pushed it into his locker, or it got stuck behind something.

That line of reasoning was better than the alternative which was that he was so uninterested, he didn’t know how to approach you. Your heart clenching at the mere thought, you went to your locker after third period as usual, determined not to look in his direction.

Turning the lock combination with well-practiced twists of your wrist, you opened the door to get the books you needed. Maybe it was time to accept the rejection and focus on classes again. After all, there was an essay due next week—

A folded piece of paper fluttered down suddenly when you pulled out one of the textbooks, taking you by surprise. What in the world? Your head immediately snapped toward Tyler’s locker by instinct but he wasn’t there.

Jitters had your hand shaking as you unfolded the unassuming scrap of lined notebook paper with bated breath. Familiar scrawling handwriting stood out immediately and you scanned it over quickly. So quickly that you had to read it twice to make sure you understood it correctly.

Y/N,

Wow. That’s the only way I can describe it.

Sorry for blowing you off yesterday, but I didn’t know what to say without seeming like an idiot: I crushed on you back in sophomore year but you never made a move and I didn’t want to push. 

So I was very surprised by your note, in a good way!

To get straight to the point, do you want to out this Friday? There’s a concert in the square that night, if you’re game. Let me know, I’d love to spend more time with you.

Tyler

“I see you got my note.” The voice ruffled your hair and you spun around to see Tyler in the flesh, rubbing his pants legs nervously but still wearing a smile. “So, what do you say?”

A loud squeak passed through your lips before you could stop it. “I mean, yes. I would love to go out with you, Tyler Simms.”  

_______________

Haven’t written for my favorite witch in a while! I think Tyler would be too awkward to confess in-person as well and would appreciate a note instead. Also, I love John Keats. And you know Reid totally ragged on him when he found the note haha. 

Thanks for reading! :) 

[otonymous]

A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part I: A Matter Of Convenience

Description: An extraordinary man arrives to shake up your ordinary life Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: robberies and mentions of firearms, physical violence, mild depictions of bodily injury, blood and masturbation, profanity Word Count: 1650 words (~8 mins of action, drama and the start of a slow burn 🔥)  Author’s Notes: This multi-chapter fic is dedicated to the lovely @op-peccatori​​​, one of the winners of my Follower Milestone Celebration!  Thank you so much, Nana, for requesting a mafia AU story starring everyone’s favourite lavender-haired man 😆 This is actually my first time writing an AU fic, and the experience thus far has been incredibly eye-opening and lots of fun!

For this piece, I wanted to localize the AU to better fit the world of MLQC, so instead of using a traditional mafia setting, the events take place in the milieu of the triads and “black societies” that are more likely to be found in corresponding parts of the world.  For those who are interested, Wikipedia has an incredibly comprehensive article on triads and organized crime.

This piece turned out to be much longer than I anticipated and is still ongoing as of the time of this post!  That being said, I hope you’ll join me on this wild ride 😂 As always, wishing you all a very happy read 😊

Jump to Chapter(s): Two | Three | Four

“Put the money in the bag and no one gets hurt.”

A black duffel bag is thrust onto the counter before you, panels wide open like a gaping maw.  You look up at the man in the bomber jacket and the only things you can process are:

One: his nostrils are flaring.

Two: why bother trying to be nondescript by dressing in all black if you’re going to leave your face uncovered during a robbery?

“I ain’t playin’ around, little girl.  Put the goddamn money in the bag right now or else I’ll shoot—”

WHACK!

The man’s eyes widen in the split second before his face crumples, teeth yellowed and uneven protruding in an ugly grimace.  His hand flies to his head, trying to stem the blood already streaking down his face when he collapses onto the counter, taking out a display of collectible miniature keychains next to the register as he does.  They scatter, some rolling across the floor before being stopped by a pair of purple Chuck Taylors tapping out an impatient rhythm on the linoleum.

You look up from those sneakers in a daze, eyes following the silhouette of a pair of jeans so worn in places you doubted the rips and tears were purely for aesthetic purposes.  And if you’d had to guess, you’d say that purple was your saviour’s favourite colour, given the lavender hair that fell over his eyes the moment he pulled back the hood of his sweatshirt, also in a shade of violet.  His other hand — clad in a fingerless leather glove — gripped the skateboard that had just connected with the head of the would-be robber, still groaning before you.

Pop!

You startle at the sound, heart slowing only when you see the pink bubble deflating between the young man’s lips before the gum is pulled back by the tip of his tongue.  And from where you stood — glued to the spot behind the counter — you swear you can detect the hint of cinnamon.  

He crouches, picking up the gun that had slid out of the thief’s hand when he was unceremoniously hit from behind, and when he chuckles — the sound dangerous and cocksure — it ignites something deep within you.

“Tsk, tsk.  Can’t very well go around robbing people with toys guns, now can you?  Especially not on my turf.  Piece of advice: don’t mess with Boss Li’s territory or else I’ll be doing more than just breaking your head the next time around.  Don’t let me catch you here again.”  

Letting out a pathetic whimper, the robber snatches the empty bag from the counter, running for the doors in such haste he almost trips over his own feet.  The electronic refrains of the door chime still ring in your ears when you realize the man has already made his way to the beverage dispenser, one long finger pressing the Pepsi button before switching to Coke, both drinks mixing in the same paper cup.

Smoothly stepping over the mess on the floor, he places the drink on the counter right next to a smear of blood.  Mind still reeling, your customer service instincts take over.

“H-hello.  Just this?”  

He nods, popping a purple straw through the plastic lid before fixing you with his amber eyes as he pays, a hint of a smirk on his face.  And that is when it hits you that he is actually…actually…

…incredibly gorgeous.

An intense wave of heat washes over your face and you can’t help but look down.  By the time you’ve worked up the courage to lift your head again, he is already at the door, merging with the dark night beyond.  He throws up one hand in goodbye, not even bothering to look back when he says, “Relax.  That guy won’t be bothering you again.”

You hear his skateboard hit the pavement, listen to it rolling away.  Only when the sound completely fades do you remember to breathe.

There was a certain tranquility in working late-night shifts at the 24-hour convenience store — aisles empty save for the occasional customer breaking the monotony: high-strung lovers grabbing last-minute condoms and overworked salarymen buying the beer and discounted meals they subsisted on.

And though your coworkers complained bitterly about the graveyard shift, they were more than happy to pass them on to you, making up every excuse as to why they were unable to show up during those times.  It was unnecessary, really.  You didn’t mind it, even preferred the solitary calm it afforded.

Until now.

Your peace has been shattered, replaced by something that made your hands ball into nervous fists — fingers gripping at the hem of your polyester uniform and wondering for the first time ever whether blue stripes made you look ridiculous.

Because for the first time in a very long while, there was something, someone, to look forward to.

Night after night, it’s the same.  Repeated glances at the clock above the magazine rack, your breath growing shallow to see it approach 1:30.  Heart leaping into your throat to hear the automatic doors slide open followed by the scuff of purple sneakers, tracing a path through the store.

Since the night of that foiled robbery attempt a month ago, he has visited like clockwork and you still haven’t figured out how to remain calm.  So you find contentment from behind the safety of the counter, watching the man with lavender hair — soft, even when lit beneath a harsh fluorescent glare as he stands at the drink dispenser, always filling a cup with Pepsi first, then Coke.

Only ever buying the same thing every time.

This strange ritual lasts all of ten minutes, fifteen at most.  And it takes just as long after he leaves for the hairs of your body to cease standing on end, as if electrified by the intensity of his eyes on yours.  

That gaze of molten gold stays with you even when you return home in the early morning hours, pulling blackout curtains across your window before falling into bed to pretend your hands were his: tracing the outline of your lips, caressing the swell of your breasts, dipping between your legs.

And when your breath falters in a quick succession of shudders, you wonder at your own sanity.  Because in spite of your suspicions about the guy with the purple hair, the warning signs that pointed to his obvious involvement with the triads that extorted money from local businesses as ‘protection fees,’ you still couldn’t help but think about the man who visited you every night without fail.

“You’re hurt—”

“I-I’m fine.  Just…just ring this up, will ya?  I’m…in a rush…”

One arm crossed over his abdomen, he places the cup onto the counter as if it took all the concentration in the world — his efforts squandered anyways when his hand spasms at the last minute to send dark liquid sloshing over the lip.  He hadn’t even bothered to put a lid on.

“…Emergency responders have just arrived on scene and are dealing with scores of injuries.  Eyewitnesses describe what appears to have been a violent clash between rival gangs in a longstanding feud over contested territory.  The police are seeking help from the public in locating several key suspects believed to have fled the scene.  Please do not approach them under any circumstances as they are considered armed and dangerous…”

The news anchor’s face on the wall-mounted television is replaced by another: that of a youthful man with lavender hair and multiple piercings on his ears — challenge exuding from amber eyes.  You scramble for the remote on the shelf behind you, mashing the power button until the screen goes black.  And in the eerie silence that descends upon the store, all you can focus on is the laboured breathing of the man slouched before you.

Skin pale, beads of sweat dot a face drained of colour save for the crimson protrusion above his left eye — soon set to transform, ironically, into his favourite shade of purple.  He tries to suppress a cough but it is too late: you’ve already caught sight of the blood spreading out from beneath the palm pressed to his stomach.

“It’s on me tonight.”

The words leave your lips without second thought as you make for the storefront, flipping the light switch even as you reach to turn the lock on the automatic doors.

“No, don’t…don’t get yourself involved…”

Ignoring his protests, you gingerly place his arm over your shoulder, doing your best to support his weight as you make an awkward attempt to hobble together towards the back of the store.

Suddenly, the darkened interior is lit by flashes of red and blue and you are pulled in the direction of the nearest pillar, a strong arm flexed as it tenses around your waist, holding you to him in an intimate embrace.

He is close…so close that your senses are flooded with him: the heartbeat thunderous in your ear, leather and sweat tickling your nostrils; the scent of blood thick enough you can almost taste it on your tongue.  The hand on your hip — grip firm in a way it almost seemed possessive, and you are ashamed to find that you can become aroused even in a situation like this.

When you finally gather the courage to look up at his face — seeking a sign in the tension dissolving from the firm set of his jaw that the police cruiser had passed — you are shocked to see his pale lips stretched into a smirk instead.

“You know...I’ve been coming here every day…for weeks now…and this is the most you’ve ever said to me.”

He is still smiling when he passes out.

Thanks so much for reading!  Hope you all enjoyed it and please stay tuned for part 2!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

(Updated): Jump to Chapter(s): Two | Three | Four

[carol-effing-danvers]

Steve Rogers is a Monster

Yeah, that’s a hell of a title, isn’t it? Strap in, it only gets worse from here. 

(click here if you’d prefer to read this on AO3)

Forewarning, if you enjoyed the epilogue for Endgame, this particular essay is not for you - and no, I am not bashing the Steve/Peggy shippers, you are beautiful human beings who make the fandom brighter and I’m happy that at least someone in this fandom got the ending they wanted.

Additional warning: if you expect this to be another Civil War debate, you will also be disappointed. There has never been a measurement invented that can adequately describe how much I loathe the verbal dick measuring contest that seems to pass for human interaction between Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in this franchise. It’s not funny or entertaining - it’s exhausting, uncomfortable, and frankly it’s rather lazy writing.

This is about the very specific way that the epilogue in Endgame completely changed the way the character of Steve Rogers can be interpreted, and I don’t just mean the very illogical and contradictory way that time travel is explained, both in the movie itself and the fact that the writers and directors have two completely different views on how that worked out. 

I mean that the choice made by Steve Rogers in the very last minutes of that movie alters the way I view each and every one of his actions starting from The First Avenger and that alteration is exactly what I want to talk about, because whether you view it as deserving or not, what Steve does at the conclusion of Endgame was the most selfish thing humanly possible. Time is a thief, but somehow Steve managed to steal even more than Time.

Side note here: I understand that I am a completely biased Stucky shipper, a friend to Barnes and Noble, a Starbucks aficionado - sorry. Anyway, I’ve always believed that Steve and Bucky were destined blah blah blah, but I was never expecting a Stucky ending. Disney wasn’t going to do that, and I knew that, I wasn’t bothered that Steve and Bucky weren’t doing the smoochies by the end. But Bucky’s facial expression during those last minutes was gut-wrenching. Like...I have no idea what kind of cues the script and directors gave him, but in the future, please don’t ask Sebastian Stan to look sad unless you want soul-crushing devastation. It’s not Seb’s fault, his features are just arranged that way - but the fact that the editing staff allowed Sam to be sad though elated to be entrusted with the Shield and Bucky looked like his soul was being physically torn out of his body was an… interesting choice. 

Other side note: if you’re writing about time travel, I’m begging y’all to get your facts straight. Or just don’t write about time travel. It almost always sounds better on paper than it does on screen and it means that you’ve opened doors to more questions than you’ve probably got the answers for. I know this was about trying to set up the idea of the multiverse, I get that, but there were better and less messy ways to do that, and I know that because I’ve done it before. @Marvel: Let me write you a six-way orgy you fucking cowards~

By going back in time, Steve robbed Peggy of the future that would have been hers - not only that, he’s robbed her of even the chance of making the choice between those futures, because you honestly could not tell me with a straight face that Steve told her the complete truth of what he had done and she would be okay with him alternating the very course of the future. It doesn’t help his case that he has a history of not disclosing truths that he knows will be painful or inconvenient for other people in his life.

He robbed his loved ones - Sam, Bucky, Wanda - of the years they would have spent with him. Sure, he ‘came back’ after Peggy passed away, but they are adults in the prime of youth who knew him sixty years ago in his own time and he is an old, old man who has lived an entire life completely separated from them. He is practically a stranger with a name they know, but a history that no longer belongs to any of them - not even his oldest friend. They have him back, but judging from his age, they’ll be lucky to get even ten more years with him. Assuming of course, that any of them can stand to speak to him - I certainly couldn’t blame them if they tell him to go to hell and take his dad jokes with him. 

Steve has stolen away their friend and dropped off an elderly and dying near-stranger in his place, and this is treated by the writing (and the majority of the acting) as a wild and unexpected but not tragic event. 

Is it really that unexpected, though?

I recall seeing a Game of Thrones essay on Daenerys across my dash (I’m sorry, love, I don’t recall who you are since it’s not a fandom I’m in, but if someone knows who wrote that, please post the link!) which detailed how her ending in the series was foreshadowed many times by her penchant for bloody killings and her habit of surrounding herself with her own fawning friends.

Months after reading that, I had the thought: though Steve is never really shown thinking about Peggy after Civil War, except in a few scattered scenes in Endgame, was this foreshadowed? Whether you believe that his actions are justified or not, what Steve does is still, in the end, selfish at its very heart, and Steve Rogers is not a selfish person. 

Oh no, my dear friends and readers. Because taking this action has solidified and clarified Steve Rogers as the biggest and most selfish asshole in this whole universe.

Steve does not do the right thing, Steve does the thing that will most make him feel better. The fact that this often happens to be the right thing in the end is more the result of happy coincidence than any special sort of moral authority that the man holds. 

Rescuing Bucky Barnes and his fellow captives in a prisoner of war camp from being experimented on by an insane Nazi eugenicist? That was not a moral stand, that was endangering himself, Peggy Carter, and Howard Stark because he couldn’t handle the reality of his best friend being killed in war.

Sacrificing himself by putting the Valkyrie down in the Arctic Circle? That was not about sparing human lives, that was about Steve seeing his friend die right in front of him and not being able to deal with the grief. There were ways he could’ve prevented the plane from killing people without killing himself.

Trying to make Bucky remember who he was? And later on, saving him from the government agencies who wanted to hunt him down? Although, arguably, that last one is also just good common sense - Steve was already shown that government agencies could and were corrupted by HYDRA and he’d also seen how dangerous the Winter Soldier could be when unleashed. 

Steve did, I think, truly believe that this was the right thing to do, but it was also about keeping his connection - his very last, since Peggy had descended into dementia caused by Alzheimer’s before she ultimately died - to a past that for him, was only months or years ago, rather than decades. In some ways, this is completely understandable - Bucky might be the very last person left alive who truly knows who the real Steve Rogers is, because the rest of these people only know Captain America and we are consistently shown through multiple movies how uncomfortable this makes him.

This gets...considerably less and less understandable as we are shown Steve’s growing relationships with Natasha, Sam, Wanda - even Sharon, though she barely gets any screen time and they share the most awkward kiss I’ve ever seen - and indeed, what might be the most uncomfortable kiss in cinema history.

Side Note 3: This is made even more awkward by the director’s choice to have two of Steve’s friends watching them the whole time - seriously, who even does that? Why would you make them do that? Only sociopaths make out with their friends staring at them like that. It’s so fucking creepy - and don’t even get me fucking started on the fact that she’s also apparently his own niece. AHHHHH!

But we are shown, over and over again, that Steve is capable of building close meaningful relationships with people in the present. They don’t know his whole history, but they do know Steve Rogers rather than Captain America and they care about him deeply. 

Side Note 4: Notice that I don’t count Tony Stark among those people - despite this strangely persistent narrative that the various writers and directors tried to sell to the audience, Tony and Steve were not friends. They were never friends. They were colleagues at best, but these were two men who neither liked nor understood each other very well, but had to work together. And sometimes that’s okay, too. (Oh dear, I just gave the Stony fans a fit too, didn’t I? Sorry, guys. Enemies to Lovers is a great trope, I support you!)

But let’s set aside Steve’s gross betrayal of the people who loved him. We’ll also ignore the question of whether the motive for these good actions has tainted the actions themselves. Because even without questioning these, the conclusion of this story arc still transforms Steve into the biggest monster this franchise has. 

The very fundamental way that the writers and directors can’t agree on how the time travel mechanics in their own story work mean that Steve has just done one of two things and they range from shady and very questionable to absolutely fucking horrific. 

The first, that he’s created his own alternate universe to exist in, is morally dubious at best. Even the people who support this theory and liked the ending seem to feel that it wasn’t necessarily a ten out of ten on the moral goodness spectrum. They’ll say things like ‘he deserved to have his happy ending’. Even that phrasing seems to acknowledge that doing this was the opposite of the right thing. It just considers doing the wrong thing as being justified rather than horrifying. 

But let’s examine this first idea for a minute - even this, the more innocent of the two implications, means that rather than really processing his grief or dealing with the repeated tragedies and losses that have occured in his life, even as he was running group therapy sessions and grief counseling, Steve Rogers chose to escape his current life by creating an alternate universe that specifically allows he himself to live out his own fucking fantasies of the way his life should have turned out. 

That, in case you are not aware, is wildly fucked up. I thought I was playing pretty fast and loose with Steve’s characterization when I turned him into an extremely polite serial killer but as it turns out, I clearly just wasn’t setting the bar high enough, because that’s somehow even more fucked up than being an undercover child soldier with a small sadistic streak. 

Hm, and now I feel I should have been more creative there...

The second, and even more horrifying option, is that this older Steve Rogers has been in this world the whole time, watching as things unfolded just as we’ve seen over the past decade, taking ‘the slow way’ through time. 

Side Note 5: I do kind of understand why you would do it this way, because that’s really cool and shocking when you say that! Until you think about it for longer than three seconds and suddenly you realize…

Everything that has happened here, every tragedy and downfall these people experienced, happened because Steve Rogers lived his happily ever after with his beautiful wife and did absolutely nothing to stop it. He got to fuck Peggy Carter and watched as his wife built an empire of intelligence networks, knowing that her efforts were completely in vain because her agency was rotten to the core and he never told her.

Every horrifying act committed by HYDRA under the guise of SHIELD was permitted through Steve Rogers’ negligence. And that’s just the wider big-picture worldview, large and shocking, but not personal. 

What about the people that Steve claims to actually care about? 

This means that Steve lived his whole life in contentment with his wife and children while his best friend was physically and psychologically tortured for over seventy years and just...let that go. 

He allowed one friend to murder another in the nineties, when the Winter Soldier was sent after Howard and Maria Stark. Then their child was being advised by a greedy self-interested warmonger who paid terrorists to drag him off to be tortured and slaughtered, and Steve did nothing about that, either. 

Bruce Banner was exploited, experimented on, and made into a monster against his will in the failed pursuit of recreating what was done to Steve, resulting in billions of dollars in damage and dozens or even hundreds of lives lost, and Steve allowed that to happen, too. 

Like Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanov was physically and psychologically tortured for others to use her as a living weapon - except that this was probably happening to her since early childhood, and a man her future self loved and trusted implicitly did nothing to save her from this upbringing. 

The Maximoff twins are shown to have not wealthy but loving parents who are murdered in front of them and they both endure days of laying in the rubble of their ruined apartment, wondering if the bomb in their living room would go off and kill them. Later, they are taken in by HYDRA, experimented on, and recruited as child soldiers to the cause when they show signs of having supernatural powers. They start a series of events that result in the destruction of a major city and the loss of what is probably thousands of lives. Pietro is murdered while trying to help the Avengers to stop this, and Wanda suffers the loss of the very last living person she loved. None of these things seem to have bothered Future Steve. 

Steve “I can’t sit on the sidelines when I see a situation go sideways” Rogers, planted himself on that fucking sideline and observed for nearly eighty years as friends, colleagues, and his own wife were lied to, brainwashed, tortured, vilified, and hunted down like animals.

And then there Steve Rogers himself - not the Endgame Steve Rogers, the Steve Rogers who brought down a Nazi plane and will lie beneath the ice for seventy years while everything he knows disappear (mostly) innocent of these horrors, the life he would’ve lived stolen from him by a stranger with his name and his face from another universe.

What I’m saying here is that if you consider this idea for any amount of time, it took Steve Rogers less than ten minutes to become the most evil and disturbing figure in the entire MCU, only (not really tho) contested by Thanos himself. 

Gross and poorly reasoned libertarian ethics aside, Thanos genuinely believes that he did what he did for the sake of the entire population. It’s made fairly explicitly clear that Steve didn’t do this for anyone but himself. 

Call me crazy, but if everyone you know needs to suffer and multiple planet-wide devestations have to happen in order for you to get your happy ending, you might be the bad guy. 

Maybe I’m just old-fashioned?

[namgee]

implications | knj

❥pairing: Namjoon x Reader (f)   ❥genre: fluff, slice of life (pg) ❥word count: 2.3k ❥summary: The adventurer life isn’t for you. You like your routines and you stick to them, but a small mess-up finally forces you beyond your desired level of social interaction as you rely on a stranger. A stranger whose actions and words imply things you wish to explore. ❥warnings: none  ❥a/n: this was just a quick little thing I wrote a few days ago before I got started on another smut fic which should come out in about a week 😋 ^^ I did a quick proofread so sorry for any mistakes 😣

A silence that sounds with turning pages, graphite scraping against thick paper and the ever present hums that arise from thought. Your ears anticipate it even before you're there. It’s, for the most part, the same soundscape you’ve grown accustomed to since you started visiting the art atelier. Well, the building technically has multiple ateliers, whatever your artistic interest, for a reasonable fee each month, you can visit the space and use their resources. Each floor focuses on certain subject areas, people are allowed to move around and work wherever they want. Like a Google workspace except for the arts.

You usually stick to the 4th floor, where most of the graphics tools are. The elevator dings, you step away from the metallic box and towards the senior part-time receptionist, Diane, who gives unsolicited artistic advice under the guise that old age equates to prowess in art criticism. The advice isn’t half as bad as you expected still, you rarely take it. You place your folder on the desk giving her a smile, teeth barely visible, it’s the best iteration of ‘a lady should always smile when talking to others’ smile you can muster with your lips chapped from the borderline glacial air you had to walk through this afternoon.

“Well, hello young lady! You haven’t visited the establishment in a while. Mateo has been asking about you actually.”

Mateo is the head of the graphic art department who you might or might not like, there’s still a few weeks left for you to decide. Your roommate, Jovian, had given you the ultimatum, “You have until you finish whatever creature you’re trying to collage together this time around,” she had said waving her half painted stiletto nail around before diverting her attention to another girl who also seemed to be having a hard time choosing as her family and in laws attempted to decide for her. On one thing you were sure, you would have said no to the dress she had on.

“There we have it! That’s a much better smile that one you gave before. It’s always best to show some teeth,” Diane says, her two row of teeth (some of which look awfully fake) in full display.

“I’ll sure think about it next time Diane. I’m just here to check in right now,” you sigh, removing your decaying gloves which have lost their purpose, your fingers are about as stale as Diane’s as you fish around for your membership card in your wallet.

“The time please darling.”

“3pm to 8pm,” you say blowing warm air into your palms.

It takes a few minutes for her to find your name in the system. “Oh sweetheart, it seems someone else already took your spot.”

“Exactly how did they take my spot?”

“Hmmm,” Diane’s eyes lift upwards as she tries to find an answer in the air, “to be quite frank with you I do not know.” She sounds shocked that she doesn’t know something.

“Uh, excuse me?” Someone questions from behind you. You both turn towards the voice coming from a golden haired man sporting what is most likely the best variant of the fully toothed lady smile Diane advocates for. To make matters even better it’s shaped like a heart. “I believe that I was the one who took the spot.” he giggles nervously as if caught red-handed before sliding his own card onto the desk.

You assume he’s here to work with graphics for some sort of fashion related purpose, in fact he sort of looks like the graphics plastered around the building: colourful, bold, warm but still a bit overwhelming.

“You’re indeed the one who booked the slot first, young man.”

“I believe that this is what the trainer for my position was referring to as a glitch in the system.” Diane says with an air of pride.

“Hm, sorry about that,” The human embodiment of a colour wheel says with an apologetic pout.

“Oh, don’t worry I’m sure I can find another place, it isn’t your fault,” you wave your hand around giving him your second or third genuine smile of the day. He mumbles a shy ‘okay’ before heading right, away from you.

“Can you see if there’s any place on the other floors?” You reluctantly ask, after all you had never gone to other floors unless it was to buy snacks because the queues on the 4th floor were too long or to find unoccupied bathrooms.

Diane finds you an opening for the floor above. You thank her and move back to catch the elevator doors right before they close, swiftly slipping in towards a surprised figure, a big figure. You mumble a quick apology after bumping into him. When you turn your head to look at him he gives you what you assume to be his own equivalent of the barely noticeable smile you gave Diane a few minutes ago.

The ride takes a few seconds. You rush out the second the opening of the doors is big enough for you slip past if you just take a deep breath in. Another second goes by where you feel disoriented. The floor layout is not that different from the one beneath but the place looks far more cramped than what you expected. Don’t writers like to be alone? In their own space?

You watch as Mr. Big gives yet another one of his glances, you haven’t figured out how to describe them yet, you don’t know if you’re being judged or just being perceived or whatever it is that writers do.

He goes to the right, so you take the other way. You peruse the space for a place you could sit down to work on your project. Somehow, the writers with their notebooks and laptops seem stingy about letting you settle down despite how packed the floor already is.

For every glance you take at a potential working spot you receive three glances and these ones you know to be of the judgy kind. You walk and walk only to end up on square one. Just to make sure, you do another round and another one as if you were in a full parking lot waiting for one of the cars to magically pull out for you to get a place. By your third tentative walk, the one where you put the most effort to seem approachable and nice, someone takes pity on you.

It seems it’s not only his stature that is big but so is his heart.

“Oh god, thank you!” You sigh, sliding into Mr. Big’s little corner which faces backwards from the café.

“It was starting to look... sad.” He gives you a brief look before focusing back on his laptop screen.

“It wouldn’t have been, if you writers were more welcoming,” you scoff, shrugging off your jacket, the rustling brings your actions to his focus.

A delicate slender hand pushes against his glasses as he leans back, “You’re quite the daredevil, huh?”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, slipping past closing elevator doors and sitting down to probably do something noisy with a lot of... “ He takes a look at your stash of materials, “things while surrounded by silence seeking writers. Those things make me say that.”

“That’s a very boring view on action. Also the concept of this building is literally to allow anyone to work anywhere.”

“Sure, you’re right but just because that’s their goal doesn’t mean it turns out that way. This place is no different from high school, certain spaces have been sort of ‘claimed’.”

“And you expect me to act like a good teenage girl and not start trouble?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Aren’t you a writer? You should know certain words can imply certain things,” you say matter of factly and receive a disjointed but delightful laugh as his hand fists to cover his wide smile.

“Anything else you know about writers that you would like to share?”

“You might end up making a character out of me, or a scene out of my situation.” You’re playing on stereotypes but for all you know they could be true. You lay out your material on the table forcing him to scoot a bit. He doesn’t protest and you appreciate that, so you give me a genuine tight lipped ‘thank you’ smile.

“So what are you doing?” He asks, lowering his computer screen a bit.

“A collage.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t really know yet. I’m just figuring it out as I go.” You stare at the big pile of magazines, newspapers and flyers you managed to collect over the past month. Something has to come out of it. “What about you?”

“Pretty similar actually, I just came here to write, figuring it out as I go you know.” He picks up a piece of paper nearest to him, a green flyer. “Do you even know what it says?” He holds it up to you. The text is in Arabic.

“No, I don’t.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know? I mean the work will be tied to you.” He questions.

“It doesn't matter, it’s not like anyone will see this,” you mumble, snatching the flyer from him.

“Someone should, I don’t know much about collages, actually I know nothing, but I like what I see so far.”

“What exactly do you see?” You probe.

“Ummm… uhhhh… it’s– there’s branches and,” he leans over to get a better look and hesitates “tentacles? Okay, so maybe I don’t know what it is, but I still stand by it. It’s nice to look at.”

“Would you give it as a gift to someone?” You probe even further.

“You know what, I’m just trying to tell you I like it. Like I would totally buy it! So yes, I would give it to someone, myself!” He has an overly cheery voice that encourages more glances your way. The more you look, the more you start thinking they’re watching you and not judging.

“How much?”

He gives you an incredulous expression, he seems both intrigued and confused with behaviour.

You snort a short laugh, “I’m just messing with you. But don’t get me wrong if you do want to buy it then I’m definitely taking offers.”

At that he retreats back into himself and his silence to focus on the blank document page. You shrug it away, you knew his words were too good to be true.

The two of you work in relative silence, your ripping and cutting does add a bit of a soundtrack for the period of time. After an hour or so of working, you move to buy a cinnamon bun, and while you’re at it you buy a second one. You did feel a bit apologetic for disturbing his workspace, you of all people should know.

You place his plate beside him but he’s too engrossed into his writing to provide any response. He does finally whisper a shy ‘thanks’ once he lifts his gaze from the screen. You answer with a nonchalant but truthful ‘no biggie’.

The hours bleed into themselves and soon enough your allocated time is about to run out. You’re quite used to that routine,packing up your material well in time to leave. However, the man in front of you doesn’t seem to have a good grasp of time. Last minute, he hurries to assemble his belongings, swiftly turning around to check that he hasn’t left anything behind, almost knocking down the plate that you manage to catch.

Your elevator ride to the bottom floor is as silent as the one you had earlier. You walk with synchronised strides somehow following the same way after you leave the building. You’re sure one of you is following the other, but as long as you’re concerned you’re taking the way back home. You walk in silence for a few more minutes before you think of asking him where he lives, just to make sure but he beats you to speaking.

“So uhhh, would–” he starts off in a high pitched voice which he masks with a cough, “I meant, would you like to grab a coffee?”

“At 8pm?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Or a drink?” He suggests.

“What does coffee or a drink mean?”

“I thought you were good at getting the implications of certain words.” He smirks, which seems out of character, but then again you don’t know him. You’re just curious about something first.

“What did you end up writing?”

“A short story about an avid museum visitor that discovers a collage at an exhibition that has him intrigued.” He chuckles knowing very well it just proves your point. And you smile satisfied to have finally figured out what that particular glance of his meant. He was just taking you in.

“It’s Y/N by the way,” you would have reached out your hand towards him but they’re cold so you compensate with a warm smile Diane would approve of. “And I wouldn’t mind a drink right now.”

“I’m Namjoon and I’m very happy you said that” He punctuates his excitement with a dimple. The same one you would come to grow enamoured with, so much you would make a collage piece out of all the pictures you’ve taken where it is present. In return, he would, just as he did today, unconsciously and deliberately write your works into his stories, and welcome you into his space.

“By the way, when you let me sit with you in your space, were you claiming me then?” You ask out of curiosity and urge to mess with him.

“I– I don’t know what you’re implying. But if you mean me taking pity on you then yes.” You scoff a bit too loud at his response. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to whatever it is you have in mind,” He says, looking down at your quizzical expression with warm eyes and a restrained laugh as he walks closer to you. It seems you’re not the only one who’s good with implications.

thank you for reading my fic, i hope you enjoyed it 🥺 any feedback or comment is welcomed !!

all rights reserved namgee