#but they're going to be different fuck ups

[sleepymccoy]

Someone I follow is posting about Spock and McCoy after the Katra sharing, but they're posting canon thoughts and I'm all fanon so I'm making my own post lol

Post Katra headcanons!

Spock swears in Southern when he's tired. He really doesnt like this

McCoy understands a bit of Vulcan, but only when he doesn't know the person isn't speaking English. Like, if they randomly switch to Vulcan he can keep up until it's pointed out

They can feel when the other is experiencing strong emotions. They don't know what emotion, but it's like an itch or a tickle in their throat to say the other is feeling something

They know a bit of each other's specialised knowledge. McCoy is passable at astrophysics now, and Spock is an even more annoying patient since he understands the terminology

They also remember a few private moments of eachother's that they weren't present for. Both politely don't mention this, but do find confusing ways to allude to it

McCoy can cook some Vulcan dishes now. Spock developed a taste for bourbon in the evening that takes everyone by surprise

With great effort Spock can project messages to McCoy. With greater effort McCoy can give Spock a feeling that translates to fuck off

On Vulcan they're legally super duper married and Spock just doesn't mention this. McCoy notices next tax return when he's taxed like a married man, not a single man. Takes him months of asking around to figure out who the government thinks he's married to. He files for divorce without talking to Spock

Spock won't divorce him cos he did carry his Katra, but he'll agree to an annulment. McCoy about pops off with anger

Kirk buys them a wedding gift when he finds out

They don't get the annulment and neither can really put their finger on why. Something about respecting Vulcan culture, cos they'll still be married on Vulcan no matter what

McCoy gets a headache whenever Spock mind melds with someone else

McCoy can initiate a mind meld with Spock, which they both get kinda very into cos their brains feel so good paired back up again. McCoy drunkenly described it as being better than sex to Kirk and the idea of that sticks around something terrible

Their telepathic connection is stronger after a meld, so they start doing it in advance of missions so they can be in touch immediately if things go sideways

If they're apart for a long time the connection will tell them when each other is close by. They've run into each other at conferences or in hotels or once on a transport ship they didn't know the other was booking too. They find each other quickly and easily when they're nearby

This becomes an uncanny capacity to always vaguely know where the other is. McCoy is bad at remembering that he shouldn't know and will volunteer Spock's whereabouts sometimes without thinking

They get good at learning what the various nudges and hints from their connection mean. They can tell different moods apart and send messages that the other can open at their leisure, rather than breaking through and being front of mind

If one of them is injured or captive or just bored as shit they'll sometimes pop into the other's head and basically turn into the back seat driver from hell

With everything they know and learn, they're very fond of each other

[beanarie]

of course

in which the helicopter crashed with both our guys inside. inspired by this awesome post by @mooshkat

(tw: vomiting, heart issues, near death angst, biphobia mention)

~

Once the wave of agony subsides, and Tommy is reasonably sure he's done vomiting into the dirt, he blinks over at Evan appraisingly. "Is your arm broken or did your shoulder go out again?"

Evan grimaces and finishes tying off Tommy's splint. "Shoulder. And my hip's not feeling great. Cracked rib, maybe two. But of course you had to outdo me."

"Didn't do it on purpose." Tommy glares at the spot where his tibia poked through the skin, like he can intimidate the pain away. "Anyway you've got me on quantity."

"There's nothing else?"

"My head hurts," Tommy admits, "but there's not much we can do for that right now."

Evan leans in to compare his pupils. Tommy is very proud of himself for not flinching. "Dispatch had our location?" Evan asks, and instead of reminding him that he was there when they confirmed it, Tommy nods.

He knows he can't go to sleep, even if the leg would allow him. He finds a stick and starts tic tac toe. Evan chuckles and joins in.

He wins the next two games. Tommy blames his probable concussion.

Evan holds his bad arm tight around his midsection, but his eyes seem stormy for a different reason. "These people who hurt you in the past, what- what are their names?"

"Huh?" Tommy gives up on the game, scratching it out of the dirt. "You want a full list of legal names or just what I called them?"

"Was it Evan, for any of them?"

God, he's so transparent. Tommy laughs.

"Do you- do you judge everyone by who came before? Is that just what you do in a-all situations? One barista spilled coffee on you in 2011 and you pay for Starbucks with one of those grabby reacher things ever since?"

"Fuck's sake." Tommy doesn't even like Starbucks, but he doesn't say that.

Evan sort of shrugs before he remembers his shoulder with a wince. "It's not generally considered a sign of maturity. Ironic, I guess."

"Yeah, call me old. See where it gets you."

Evan brightens. "You're talking to me. I like my results so far."

There's something indefatigable about this man. Tommy can't help but surrender in the face of it, just a little. "How did you know I'd have to pinch hit for this fly along?"

"I didn't. I just hoped." His grin is just the slightest bit abashed. "Worst case scenario, get out of the engine for a day and I pump one of your coworkers for info."

"They have very little to pump," Tommy says. Evan and the codependent 118 are the aberration, and they're well aware of that. Tommy has great coworkers. They do their jobs and leave, with the exception of drinks once or twice a month. None of them gave him shit after the breakup. Few of them noticed. This is how most teams operate. Evan, however, looks surprised and a little sad. "What were you hoping to hear?"

"I don't know." Evan looks away, suddenly self conscious. "That you messed yourself up at least half as much as you did me."

Tommy rubs at his face. "I didn't mean to mess you up, Buck. Truly. We- It just ran its course. It doesn't reflect badly on you, or me. This just happens."

He looks upset at first, then calculating. "What if I hooked up with those Not-Evans?"

Tommy looks behind him, searching for something that makes sense. "What if you moved to the moon? I have no idea what you're getting at right now."

"Would I be experienced enough for you if I let them have a go? They were terrible for you, so it stands to reason they'll be terrible for me, too." He lifts a finger, his eyes lighting up in a way that turns Tommy's stomach. "Oh, I guess one or two of those might be women. They don't count. Some might be bi and married to women. Do they count as half? If I bag a threesome, is that like seventy-five percent? Do you give points for polyamory?"

Tommy feels about eighty years old, and not a fit eighty. "When did I say even one of those things?"

"The implications were pretty clear, Tommy. 'You're just young and excited. You don't know what you're feeling or how to interpret anything going on in front of you.'"

Tommy doesn't know what to say to that. It's not remotely what he meant, but he's never been good at communicating through panic.

"Did you love me?" Evan asks quietly. Tommy can't look him in the face. "It felt like you- like you did, but when you let me go like that, like chopping off the top bit of a carrot, it made me re- reevaluate everything I thought I knew about us."

The note of devastation in his voice almost tips him over, but ultimately what does it is the implication that Tommy made Evan lose faith in himself. He can't abide being responsible for that. "Of course I love you, Evan. How could I not?"

The tightness in his chest, that felt so much like raw emotion, intensifies, growing sharper. It's hard to breathe now, like sucking a milkshake through a coffee stirrer, and he realizes, something is very wrong. About as wrong as it could possibly be.

"Oh," he says. An attempt to inflate his lungs all the way makes his vision go sparkly at the edges.

"Tommy?"

Tommy drags his eyes up to meet Evan's. "S- Sorry, I-" I wouldn't have said any of those things if I knew. "Sorry. Evan." You deserve better than a fucking deathbed love confession.

A rough hand grasps his neck, slowing his descent to the ground. "No, hey. Hey hey hey. Tommy, we'll figure this out." Evan sniffles and tries to smile. His tears are falling everywhere. "You're okay. You're fine. Just keep- keep breathing."

The coffee stirrer is about a millimeter wide. Tommy can feel the muscles in his neck straining like he's deadlifting his own weight. Evan rips Tommy's shirt open and he swears floridly, miserably. They both know what this is; they've seen it in a hundred MVAs. Cardiac tamponade. When his heart gives out from the strain of all the blood surrounding it, chest compressions can be worse than useless. They could punch his ticket that much faster.

"Tommy," Evan says, pulling Tommy into his lap. The complaints from his splinted leg are distant, belonging to someone else entirely. Evan's voice is a ragged mess trying to piece itself together. His shoulder and ribs are probably killing him. "Don't run out again. You need to stay. Breathe."

Half a millimeter.

One quarter.

Tommy can't remember what comes after millimeter.

"That's it. I know it's hard, but keep trying. That's all I ask. Just try, okay? Look at me."

Micrometer? Is that it?

Evan's face is shadowed by the sun cresting over his shoulder. Tommy closes his eyes against the glare and is rewarded with a shake.

"Keep your eyes open. Stay with me. Just a little- little bit longer, please."

Fingers are running through his hair, lips are pressing against his forehead, and he thinks he can hear... sirens.

[tatsumi-rin]

Anyone else thought about this?

With the popularity of Mouthwashing as a game, I've seen people who talk about it talk about the mouthwash itself as a metaphor for Jimmy (and they're definitely correct in their read imo), but dear god NO ONE is talking about it as a potential metaphor for Pony Express itself as a company.

This is an item considered to be an essential. It is a dental hygiene product dentists would generally recommend you have. 99.9% of bacteria gone - but this one is loaded with sugar. Using this is going to be detrimental to its own cause and probably worse than using no mouthwash at all.

Pony Express? No matter your start, it seems like a good, stable job and a promising future. People will always need goods transported to other planets. It even has a cute mascot representing pride in their work that they sell toys of to kids!

Butttttt, the caveats. Oh boy, the caveats. All of those cute images are done to soften the blow of little red pieces of text about how doing things to the point of basically existing means your credits are going to get docked - something that's just as much Aperture Science-esque dark humor as horrible foreshadowing. Late delivery? Docked. Resting in any manner for more than five hours? Docked. Using medical support in any manner? Docked. REPORTING ISSUES TO HR??? MOTHER. FUCKING. DOCKED.

And trying to avoid any of those dockings; those detriments? Pretty much impossible, and that would spell doom for anyone: including members of a certain ship. With every one of those rules, if they survived that payout would be hilariously low. The usual rules; made by out of touch people in fancy suits.

The members of the Tulpar all (mostly) had reasons to be there, even at radically different life stages. Reasons why they needed the work, and reasons why it should fulfill those reasons and enrich their lives.

It was meant to be Jimmy's ticket away from struggling on earth. It was meant to be Daisuke gaining direction in life. It was meant to be Anya finally getting into medical school. It was meant to be Swansea gaining a stable and fulfilling life as he made it into sobriety, and it was meant to be Curly making it further up into his career path with glowing words of praise.

As per capitalism's usual spiel that we were even shown in the game itself via public domain cartoon, taking this job was meant to be joyous opportunity and innovation for their lives; but with so many flaws in the system around them around them - including the words on those posters - just trying to find benefit in the system they needed in order to survive was nothing more than fatal poison. The dead pixel, the sugar, and the 0.1% all working together.

[nova-rogue]

The assumption that all production is a monolith is certainly a choice here. Two major things on cinematography:

Cinematographers are generally good at their job. They know way more than you could ever know about lighting a scene. Someone taking a screenshot and "brightening" it in software like photoshop is NEVER going to prove the point you think you're proving. Because lighting doesn't work that way and you're taking a 2D still of a 3D film that already has processing and compression and using a brightening tool. Like that's not how that works at all. This is a dumb comparison to make. You don't have the original captured image and all of its data. You cannot adjust the brightness with a screenshot: you need to be able to process the full image data.

A big downfall, though: Movies are lit specifically for the best case scenario of lighting and color nuance. Theater screens and projectors are supposed to be kept clean, working, and up to spec, and movies are lit for that purpose. A movie is rarely "too dark" it's just that you're watching it sub-optimally on a computer, phone, or TV, or god forbid on a movie projector that hasn't had its routine maintenance (something that notably got worse because of the pandemic!). This isn't your fault as a consumer btw, it's just a stupid disparity that exists.

Cinematographers light differently than you'd expect. White is meant to be seen as the BRIGHTEST thing on the screen. Every ounce of brightness is lit down based on that. Your computer screen? There are things just as bright as white because of the way brightness is done on computer monitors. Cinematographers use a system called False Color in order to identify and "visualize" brightness levels:

Note that Brightness has to do with literal light output and not hue or saturation. Those are different things.

Cinematographers use False Color overlays when adjusting for lighting on set in order to determine the appropriate levels based around pure white being the brightest thing ever on screen and pure black being the darkest possible thing.

Because of this: compression is a bitch. If you're watching on any at-home device your device is compressing the shit out of the bottom end of the spectrum! You are seeing LESS detail than intended. There will be artifacting there that's typically pretty visible. This doesn't happen with (maintained) projectors.

When you watch on an at-home device you are viewing with less color nuance than is actually captured on camera.

These cinematographers are not "lazy". They're not using "flat lighting" (jesus christ) and they rarely have to "fix things on set" like this post is implying. Their lights and lighting are often just fine. The bigger issue is the technology disparity between what Cinematographers are lighting for--for NUANCE and COLOR RANGE--versus what color range output the average person's device is capable of putting out.

Also, if you're ever watching a pirated movie or show, unfortunately it is highly likely it's in less quality than the original and the compression, artifacting, and overall quality is going to be worse. Not saying you're wrong for doing this (fuck the streaming service hell world), just making mention that pirating does sometimes affect quality.

See Also: VFX is absolutely a bitch too, but we do talk about it wrong. CGI tech is really good now, but I've seen VFX artists on twitter talk about how the biggest issues arise when the production team doesn't have a solid vision for what they want and keep changing their mind or making adjustments to what's needed. Less time to work on the CGI means less quality CGI. Sometimes the lighting and color grading of post-production is affected by this problem as well. If you watched either of Denis Villeneuve's DUNE films, it's worth watching any behind the scenes production stuff you can. You'll note that Villeneuve and Greig Fraser (my favorite cinematographer of all time btw) worked very hard with visual development, story boarding, and pre-production so that they had a clear vision for going into solving cinematography problems in advance, which also makes post-production go smoother. A lot of times it's not even the Director and Cinematographer's fault if they aren't given the time or budget to make things go as smoothly as DUNE.

So yeah, posts like this irritate me because a lot of assumptions are made by people who know very little about how cinematography works. There are little snippets here and there that are correct (like the rushed/lack of vision VFX stuff), but a lot of it gets pinned on either the director or cinematographer, which is often unfair. Someone doesn't get in Greig Fraser's position (or even lower!) by being bad at lighting on set. It's a job with an impossibly high skill ceiling. There is stuff with more mediocre cinematography, but the issues are rarely going to be "lazy lighting". It's usually something else.

OMG. Somebody said it out loud.

Disney is absolutely not the only studio doing this though.

It seems to have become standard practice across movies and series everywhere.

Anything that doesn't do it is like a breath of sunlight and fresh air inside a dank musty cave.

It's part of the 'fix it in post-production' epidemic sweeping through the studios. Fix it in post is often used as a time/money-saving measure - and is absolutely part of the same mess that the WGA is fighting against currently.

Rather than fixing things on-set - audio, lighting, something in-frame that shouldn't be, etc. (which is all handled by unionized crew) - they leave it for the CG folks (not unionized) to edit later.

(on ridiculously tight schedules that leave them scrambling, cutting corners, and working inhumane hours)

See also: that part where scripts aren't finished, because the studio won't fully staff the writers room, and won't pay to have writers on-set for day-of-filming script questions and fixes (which could resolve issues such as 'what kind of lighting do we need here?')

Anyway, all this shit we, as audiences, keep complaining about - bad lighting, bad sound, wonky visual effects, over-usage of not-great CGI, stilted acting on green-screen sets, scripts that seem not-quite-finished, costumes that look like they're cheap and flimsy, terrible hair and makeup, films and series that aren't as polished as they could be...

Plus the complaints we have about streaming services and their shenanigans...

All of that is enmeshed in the extreme capitalism that has taken over everything, including entertainment, to the point that studios are abusing their workforce and churning out material that - at best just doesn't live up to its potential - at worst, is just unwatchable shit.

[thefirstlioveyou]

Mike only fights back against bullies after they hurt someone he loves, but never for himself.

When he was tripped? When he was pressured to jump off a cliff? he just took it and never fought against it later. He never got back at them for it.

Mike's learned to take it, but he's ashamed of it. Watching back the clip where they trip him, you can notice Mike is trying not to cry. You can hear it in his voice with the way it cracks and shakes, and especially with the noise he makes at the end. He hides how they actually make him feel.

He tries to hide the real reason why he had a mark on a chin from el, afraid she'd think of him as a wastoid/loser. He just wanted one person - just one - to not think of him the way he thinks everyone else does - the way he thinks of himself.

He hides the reason for the bruise from the first girl that's ever shown interest in him. He doesn't tell his parents. (there is zero implication his parents are aware of the bullying until finally when his son is wanted by the whole town s4. karen is right there in front of him to see the scab but we never see acknowledgment from her). There's a good chance nobody but Dustin and El know about the whole cliff thing.

We are explicitly told how Will and El feel about the bullying and hate they've faced in their life, but not Mike. They are hiding him cause LOOK AT HOW HES OUT OF FOCUS IN BOTH OF THESE SCENES!! DURING THESE LINES!!!

MIKE UNDERSTANDS THEM. He knows where they're coming from!! why isn't he just saying that? pride. shame. fear. downplaying his emotions because his parents have taught him what he thinks/feels/does does not matter. not that they insult him.. they just ignore him or things that matter to him. that's enough to make a child feel insignificant.

buddy all you did was slightly open up about feeling not needed and insulted yourself in the process...

karen failing to call it by the actual name implies she doesn't remember details about him -- the things that matter to him. his correction implies it's important to him that she refers to it by its actual name, and this is most likely not the first time he corrects her by the way he says it casually.

the fact mike has zero reaction to any of this implies this is a normal thing for him to hear in his house (another instance in which he doesn't defend himself from insults, because he himself believes it)

His parents do not go to him. They do not intervene and rather wait for him to feel better on his own. Mind you this is a 12-14 year old boy. Why on earth is it all on him to manage alone???

"how is this bad?"

this plays exactly after we get a scene of Joyce not confronting Jonathan - her son - crying in his bedroom. Jonathan is parentified. He doesn't receive the same attention he needs as a child the way Will does because he needed to help provide. Although they're entirely different situations from each other (put down the fucking pitchforks), they both include a parent avoiding emotional connection with a child that's dealing with grief to let them take care of it by themselves. this is a clear parallel that's meant to be noticed.

they continue to just wait for mike to fix it all himself.

Mike feels worthless. He feels like a loser. He feels like he doesn't belong the same way El and Will do. He doesn't feel needed. But he's not gonna say it because he's learnt it doesn't matter. We have all the reasons to believe why he would feel that way.

Instead, during scenes where Will and El talk about bullying making them feel worthless, the director and cinematographer will simply just make sure he's in the background and out of focus, much like he his to his parents. Much like he is to the GA. Much like how it feels to suffer from depression.

[steddieme]

this is the steve harrington is seven au i was talking about in this post (warning: it's not finished)

seven has a form of foresight, he gets random flashes of visions and if he really concentrates on it he can even look for specific events. the future is a fickle thing, it's very malleable. he learns very early on that what he says, what he does can shape the world around him. he's very close to eight, he loves her power and she finds his random predictions cool. eleven eventually imprints on them like a little duckling and they dote on her as much as they can. they love her.

but seven sees flashes of brenner ordering the keepers to kill him. says he drops too many references to the outside world, he must escape at one point in the future, and that could jeopardize the entire experiment. he panics and tells eight, and they devise a plan to escape along with eleven. seven's visions are too hazy, he's too scared to really focus. things go wrong and they all get separated during their escape attempt.

for a while seven is convinced both eight and eleven died. he does see flashes of them at one point in the future, after he becomes steve, but he doesn't know how to find them. he becomes steve harrington by breaking into the harrington family's house, scared, cold and starving. mr. harrington is a cold man who wants him gone at first, but mrs. harrington immediately takes to him. they were never able to have kids and mrs. harrington is convinced seven was meant to end up with them.

when he shows them his tattoo and tells them he's called seven, mrs. harrington immediately names him steven instead. they're too scared to ask about why the fuck this random child is numbered, so they never learn the truth about him. they get him papers by paying the right people and steve harrington is born.

eventually, mrs. harrington's love for steve wilts, all the joy sucked out of her by her husband forcing her to go with him on his work trips. she has to leave steve behind, while her husband very clearly cheats on her right under her nose. she becomes too depressed to say no, to leave, she has no one to fall back on. once steve is old enough to understand, he comes to hate his "dad," but his heart breaks for his mom. it's still better than the lab.

as much as he hates it he takes up the role of king steve at school. he figures the more visible he is, the safer he is. everyone knows king steve, everyone would notice if he suddenly went missing. he wears his persona like an armor, tries to act as "normal" as possible. no one would think king steve was anything but a spoiled rich kid. there's nothing strange about him, he's a painfully normal asshole jock.

the hair is just for him, though. his mom teaches him how to take care of it, even shows him what waterproof makeup to use for his tattoo when he can't wear his watch. she's a bit obsessed with beauty, her teachings tip into toxic, he learns to associate beauty with self-worth for a while. but his hair becomes a reminder he's free. every time he looks in the mirror, every time he touches his hair is a reassurance that he's steve and not seven. he smiles when he first hears the moniker steve "the hair" harrington. king steve is for the public, but steve "the hair" harrington is just for him.

at some point he starts having random visions of people in the school. a girl holding a gun. a girl doing her makeup in his car while they laugh together. a boy with wild hair and big gestures. a kid going missing. seven different kids. and one of them is eleven! when he first sees eleven in a vision he cries for an entire day.

he sees monsters and death and pain. he sets out to find each of them and change as much of the future he's seen as possible. he already feels guilty he's recruiting all of them from the start, but how else is he supposed to protect them from something he knows nothing about? his decision to find them all has already distorted his visions. nothing is certain about the future, but there's power in numbers, he knows that much.

he first finds nancy and with her comes her best friend barb. he sets out to become their friend, and while barb doesn't approve of him at first they end up getting along well. he crushes on nancy hard, but then one day he sees visions of her and a guy named jonathan, who will apparently also be involved, and she seems to fit with him so well, he cannot bring himself to ask her out after that.

he finds out the other two people are robin buckley and eddie munson. he knows he cannot get close to them as king steve so he changes. he sheds his persona and sets out to friend the hell out of both of them. he starts with robin, because eddie is a bit too intimidating and he figures he'd take a bit more convincing with the way he seems to hate conformity. steve built his entire persona around the safety of conformity after all.

robin is very confused when he first approaches her. she's standoffish and rude and seems to hate him. but then she sees him tell someone from the basketball team off for bullying another kid. and she decides to give him a chance. and they seem to click instantly after that? he finds his soulmate and he's never been happier. he actually decides to tell her everything after a while.

when he shows her he can levitate stuff, she understandably freaks the fuck out. but after she gets it out of her system she's fully on board, they start planning how to stop the end of the world. steve is not alone anymore and robin cries with him when he starts sobbing at the realization.

they decide to befriend jonathan, since eddie will be much harder to convince. it goes surprisingly well, the guy is lonely and once you ask about his photography hobby he warms up to you. the five of them start eating lunch together, which then turns into hangouts after school as well and steve is grateful to finally have real friends.

he catches eddie staring at him one day. and then it keeps happening. turns out eddie stares at him a lot lately. he doesn't know if that's a good thing or not, but he does know it makes him flustered. his eyes are so big and intense. he talks to robin about it and she says she's like 65% sure it's a good thing and he's just curious about steve's change of heart. but when he mentions feeling flustered, she freezes. he's worried he said something wrong, before robin asks him if he's into eddie.

and. well. he does think he's a hot dude, to be honest. his hair looks so soft, he wishes he could teach him how to take care of it. and he finds his tattoos cool, he wonders how it would feel to touch them. and his eyes just suck him in and - oh my god he's into eddie munson. he stares at robin in shock who wears the same dumbfounded look on her face. then she tackles him and tells him she's a lesbian and she's so happy she finally found someone who gets it and they're truly soulmates.

while steve is honestly just confused. he hugs her back and listens to her patiently, thanks her for telling him, gives her shit for liking tammy thompson. and then tells her he's not gay. he liked nancy. robin rolls her eyes and says he can like both. which - okay, he didn't know you could do that. robin ends up making fun of him for weeks, because his type is just curly haired nerds with big eyes apparently.

but with this new knowledge in mind it's robin that has to do most of the heavy lifting in bringing eddie into their little friend group. because turns out steve wears his heart on his sleeves and doesn't know how to be normal when he has a crush. she finds it hilarious honestly. the only reason he kept his cool around nancy was because they were friends first. or at least he hopes he kept his cool around her. he's not so sure anymore.

eddie is very reluctant at first. he acts like a feral animal that has to be coaxed into trusting you. robin manages to convince him to let them join hellfire. the first session her and steve show up to is tense and awkward, but they do have fun. the two of them play one character, because robin is bad at talking but good at keeping track of stats and all that, and steve is good at talking and improvising. and together they're great at strategizing. the guys look at them strangely at first, but they learn to accept their oddities.

the weirder they are the more delighted eddie looks, actually. especially after they correct jeff that they're not dating. their strange twin-like behavior is what ends up drawing eddie in. they invite him to a movie night with barb, nancy and jonathan, and boom. eddie is finally in the group.

aaaand i lost motivation to continue this. i'm sorry for the cliffhanger ajvhdbkdshs

[ghostgirl-22]

artrick phone sex

I gotchu, my love <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! First time dynamics, angst, Art has avoidance issues like me.

Apologies this may be too long and full of my own personal angst I fear.

—-

“Art?” It’s Patrick.

Art feels his stomach sinking and now he wishes he’d avoided his call, again. He rolls over on his bed and looks at the sparsely decorated wall of his dorm room. It’s his first time talking to Patrick since… since…

He shivers and tries to put it out of his mind.

“Hey,” Art says and clears his throat. “What’s up?”

Patrick chuckles.

Art shivers again. Did his voice always sound that way? Or is Art just crazy still? He’s been really crazy lately. It’s been two weeks and he’s still…

“Really? What’s up?” Patrick mimics. “That’s all you have to say?”

Art shrugs for the benefit of no one but himself. “What—um— what’s wrong with that?”

“Oh I don’t know…” Patrick hums and then he sighs. “Okay fuck it. I’ll go with it. Are you okay?”

Art is still anxious, his stomach still uneasy. It’s just Patrick. His oldest and closest and best friend and yet he can’t relax. He can’t settle down and they're just talking on the phone. He can’t imagine seeing him in person when he inevitably shows up to Stanford again to watch Tashi play. Everything is different now.

“I’m fine, Patrick.” He lies.

“But you don’t want to talk to me?” Patrick sounds weird. Worried? A little. Disappointed? Probably. Sad? Definitely.

Art sighs, he doesn’t want Patrick to be sad. “No I— I’ve just been busy. We had finals last week. And um…. practice has been crazy. I’m um… I started seeing this girl and—” he hears Patrick huff a laugh but barrels through, ignoring it. “Sorry I missed your calls.”

“And texts,” Patrick adds.

“I’m sorry,” Art says again.

They’re quiet for a while. Art turns back to look at the tv. He was watching Sports Center, they were talking about gymnastics. Apparently there had just been some kind of qualifier competition.

“Who’s this new girl your seeing?” Patrick asks. This time Art can’t tell what his tone is.

“Uh well she’s nice, pretty. She’s actually not on the team. She’s an English major.”

“Sounds hot,” Patrick says, flatly.

“Yeah, she’s um— she’s nice,” Art says. “Are you—are you high?”

“A little. I won’t lie. Me and the buddy I was telling you about we smoked a couple and then went and got tacos and Margaritas. So fucking good. Who knew Dallas was a food town?”

Art laughs. He begins to relax, this feels more like best friend stuff. Maybe he was overreacting. Avoiding him for two weeks. But of course that wasn’t the only reason Art was avoiding him. “What happened to your match?”

“Uh well— I lost again. This shit is so fucking rigged.” Patrick complains.

“Dude that fucking sucks,” Art says. He sits up on his bed and looks around for his own weed stash.

“Yeah, it’s fine though. I’m going against this guy tomorrow, stats are all over the place but I think I can take him.”

“Whats his name?”

“Moussa or Mousso… I can’t remember but he’s French. Kinda hot, actually.”

Art feels his stomach flip flop again. “Uh… so what about Tashi?”

“She’s good, she actually answers my calls. I mean not tonight but she told me her cousin would be in town so…”

”Do you want me to beg for forgiveness or something?” Art says, smirking.

Patrick takes a breath and doesn’t say anything while Art is rummaging through the bottom drawer of his night stand. He finds the baggy he was looking for and sits up on the bed, legs crossed as he opens it.

“I’m sorry but I was honestly busy.” Art adds when Patrick still hasn’t said anything.

“Are we ever gonna talk about it?” Patrick asks.

Art stops moving. His stomach begins doing all kinds of things again.

“Look I don’t want to… I don’t want it to be weird,” Patrick continues. “I can do whatever you need. If you want me to pretend I didn’t fuck you… okay fine. But you have to talk to me because I’m going fucking crazy.”

Art stares at the television but he’s not seeing anything. He gives up on the weed and tosses it on the nightstand. “Yeah um… okay.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Art mutters. “I’m— we can talk.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Art says. “I—“ he lays back down on his side and looks at the wall, pulling his knees up. He wishes with everything in him that they hadn’t done it in here. In his fucking bed.

He’s got it on a loop playing in his head all the time. Patrick crawling between his legs. The way he looked, hair still damp from the shower, freckles all over, pupils too big, blue eyes all sparkly. How he smelled, like vanilla soap and cigarettes. What he sounded like, voice so much deeper and softer than normal, saying stupid things like “You’re so fucking pretty”, “Gonna make you scream my name,” and then moaning when he got it in.

And how it felt.

God.

How it felt.

That’s the part that stays with him. How much it hurt. And then how much it didn’t hurt at all. By the end Patrick was touching something inside him and he was seeing stars. In between consciousness and some other plane of existence is how good it felt. That was the silly part. Feeling like he wanted it again and again and again.

He let Patrick do it again in the morning. Patrick’s arms wrapped around his waist fucking him on his side while he stared at this wall his whole body blooming with pleasure. And then just sitting with it for the rest of the day. The ache. The stretch. The feeling like everyone could tell. Patrick left that afternoon for the airport, sent Art a text. Well that was fun. Which he ignored. Called him that evening. Also ignored.

Art had been trying to avoid thinking about it ever since (it was impossible). He’s thrown himself into school, tennis, he’s even tried to talk to a new girl. It didn’t go anywhere. In his worst moments he’s even tried to flirt with Tashi. But then he remembers she’s fucking Patrick and his mind swings right back around to the way Patrick fucked him. And that makes him more crazy because now he doesn’t know what the fuck he actually wants.

And every fucking night, late at night he’s lying in bed staring at the wall touching himself over and over… thinking about it.

He doesn’t know how to say any of this to Patrick.

“Did you die?” Patrick asks, dryly. Even now since they’ve been on the phone, just hearing Patricks stupid voice is making Art’s stomach hurt, and his cock fill up.

“No… I’m just confused okay,” Art says.

“About what?”

“I don’t know.”

”Did you hate it?” Patrick asks.

“Not really,” Art murmurs.

“You’re so fucking full of shit,” Patrick groans.

Art sighs and realizes he just mindlessly put his palm on his cock because of how gravelly Patrick’s voice sounds. And fine. Patrick can make him crazy all the way in whatever fucking city hes in however many fucking miles he is away from Palo Alto.

“I’m sorry if I don’t know how to feel. I’ve never… I’d never done any of that before.” Art says quietly.

“And yet you practically begged for it in the morning.” Patrick says softly.

Art swallows thickly.

“I can’t get it out of my head.” Patrick continues. “The way you were rubbing against my dick before you even woke up properly. Fuck. I can’t get you out of my head.”

Art’s rubbing himself now. “I can’t either,” he sighs, he’s starting to lose it again. He feels silly. Too silly to care if Patrick can tell.

“Yeah?” Patrick sounds eager, breathy.

“It was… I still… I still feel it. Is that crazy?” Art says quietly.

Patrick takes a deep breath. “Fuck. You drive me so fucking insane. Are you fucking touching yourself?”

“’m sorry. I just…” Art says, closing his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Art knows he’s never gonna recover from this but right now it doesn’t matter. He would stop if he could but he can’t.

”You still feel me?”

“Mmhm.”

“Feel me stretching you? you’re so fucking tight I don’t even know if it’s all gonna fit,” Patrick says, his voice sounds like it did. When Arts eyes are closed it’s almost like he can feel Patrick’s breath on his skin.

“Ah—“ Art gasps, grabbing himself properly. “I like the stretch.”

“You love it.” Patrick says. “You don’t even want to wait. Don’t want me to take my time, you’re just so eager you’re pushing that pretty ass back on me.”

“Yeah,” Art gasps, he rolls onto his back and puts the phone on speaker, letting one leg fall open as he jerks himself. “It feels so good—when you fuck me. Its too much. Im too full please… please I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“Oh you fucking liar,” Patrick moans. “You can take it baby. I know you can. You’re a little cock slut already and its only your first time. Fuck. You’re so tight.”

”So tight,” Art says mindlessly as he tries to ease two fingers along his ass, the way Patrick had done before he entered. “I wanna… I want you to… I—I miss you.”

”I miss you too,” Patrick says. “If I was there I’d have you on all fours taking my dick all night.”

“Ah—mmh— Patrick I’m gonna— you’re gonna make me—“ Art cries. The fingers are enough… even dry.

“Come on, yeah… fucking come on my big fat dick sweetheart… come on.. nngh…” Patrick moans.

It’s enough. Hot strings of pearly white are suddenly spurting out of him and spilling everywhere, on his fingers and clothes. On the bedspread. He’s breathless, as his whole body goes lax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… I need to be in you again, gahhh..” Art can hear Patrick’s bed squeaking wherever he is and then he’s groaning loudly, and gasping through his own orgasm. “Oh god, oh shit… that was…”

“Yeah,” Art says breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling.

”Mm don’t fucking ignore me again,” Patrick says.

As relaxed as Art feels right now. Distantly, the pit in his stomach is returning. “Patrick… are we… I mean… are we still gonna be… friends?”

“Yeah of course,” Patrick says, easy. He yawns. “Always.”

Art feels tied up in knots but he can tell Patrick’s relaxed, sated, relieved even. If anything he’s going to be asleep in five minutes. No point getting any deeper now.

“You wanna fall asleep on the phone or—?” Patrick asks, yawning again.

“No it’s… it’s fine.” Art says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Mmkay. Sweet dreams.”

Art bites his tongue to keep himself from saying something fucking stupid that he can’t take back. The line goes dead. Art stares at the ceiling for a minute, the three words he can’t say platonically to his best friend who he’s now fucking, are flitting about in his head. And Patrick wonders why he’s confused. He grabs his second pillow and pulls it over his face. He’s so fucked.

[corrodeheavenn]

LET'S SEE I'll drop a few tidbits of lore, idk if that's allowed but also I don't really care

SO part 1, once as a kid (eight came to mind, idk if that's correct though) we went through a blizzard which knocked out all our power for like. idk maybe a month? It might've been less than that, I don't really remember, anyway it was winter and we didn't have heat for awhile.

Part 2, a tree fell directly onto our house during, I think, a hurricane? It could've also been a tropical storm, both are so common they're just another Tuesday for me. Anyway, it landed on the roof, didn't break through, and our landlord let it sit there forrrr months, I wanna say? And then when it got taken off, the roof was fucked so he hired people to fix that, but the people he hired were also shit so my dad, who knows how to do stuff like that, went onto the roof to go fix it and ended up falling off and needing a hospital (he's fine).

Part 3, a different house now with a different landlord, but the toilet didn't work so we had to do our business in buckets filled with water and throw the contents out into the backyard. Also I think we had to go through a winter without heat.

Part 4, now in a new state and new house, the water doesn't work full stop. (in Part 3, we still had water, it was specifically the toilet that was messed up) So not only do we have to use buckets of water to force the toilet to flush, we can't shower or do the dishes or even turn the sink on. We have to go to my uncle's girlfriends house and fill water jugs+big buckets with water and ferry them over with my dads truck just to have water. ALSO the heating got shut off, so that's a third winter with no heating. All my uncle's fault, he convinced us to move up here and live in his house, then when the water got fucked he unofficially moved him and his girlfriend into his girlfriends house with her mother, and had the water (and the heating, I think) shut off. And we still have to pay him rent, for some reason.

That's all, thanks for coming to my TEDTalk.

it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore

[kpop---scenarios]

Red Lights (1)

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Warning: Mentions of DV, Feeling like you're being stalked, language,

Genre: Stalker, Serial Killer

Word Count: 2k

Everything Taglist:

@wife2straykidss @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon

@dwaekkiiracha @silly250 @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

@satosugu4l @gabriellamarie @tsunderelino @iovecb97

@1810cl @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat

@pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog

@anskiiz @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr

@jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx @ayyonoona @31maze13

@stay-tiny-things @thegingerthatwaited @hoesheez @stayatinykatsy

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!

Don't look back. Don't look back. Keep running. Run faster.

You breathe heavily as you take a sharp corner, hiding yourself against the brick wall in the dark alley. You can hear the stomping of his feet from down the street, he's looking for you. You slap your hand over your mouth, trying to silence your breathing. You watch the opening of the alley, the dim light casting small shadows over the damp pavement. You're trying not to cry as you feel like your entire stomach is going to come up and out of your throat.

The footsteps slow down, now only the shuffling of his feet is what you can hear. You watch as he steps into the light.

Your breath hitches as you hold your hand over your mouth harder.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” He sings, his voice is low, it's menacing.

Terrifying.

“If you think I won't find you, Y/N..” He pauses with a low chuckle. “You're sorely mistaken, my love… I always find what belongs to me.”

**

“You need a boyfriend.” Your friend, Soomi says, glancing over at you as the two of you browse through the racks of clothes.

“What I need is some new pants.” You laugh. “Not a boyfriend. I have no interest in dating again, not after Derek.” You say, shuttering at the thought of your ex boyfriend and the hell he had put you through during your short lived relationship.

“Derek was bad, yes, but not all are like that.” She says, handing you a pair of pants she had picked out for you.

“I'm sure they're not.” You smile, making your way to the change room. “But I have no interest in finding out if they are good or bad.” You finish, walking into the room, closing the curtain behind you.

“You can't let one bad experience dictate the rest of your dating life.” She sighs.

You pull open the curtain, cutting her off from what she was going to say next, glaring at her. You knew she was trying to help you, but she barely knew half of the shit you had put up with when you were with Derek, and how hard it was when you left him only weeks ago. Not to mention the fact that you were sure he was stalking you after you broke up with him. He didn't want to break up, and you'd thought he might have finally just accepted it after you blocked him on everything and moved to a different apartment but now you weren't so sure.

Your mind flashes back to a night in your old apartment, you had ordered dinner for you and Derek. You were so excited, the table looked so cute, flowers and candles, the food laid out as you waited for him to get back from work. As you heard the door unlock, your heart dropped, suddenly the rush of feeling like you somehow fucked up took over your body as he walked in the door. He loudly and aggressively took off his shoes, dropping his briefcase on the floor as he stomped towards you. You smile at him, and he shoves you against the wall, wrapping his hand around your throat, squeezing tightly.

“Who the fuck is this shit for?” He snaps. You're clawing at his hands trying to peel him off of you as you desperately try to breathe.

“Y-you.” You choke out, gasping.

“Fucking whore.” He spits, releasing you to drop to the floor as he walks away, slamming the bathroom door.

You shake your head as you come back to reality. “Yeah, I know.” You sigh. “I'm just not ready yet, okay?” You half smile. She nods her head, accepting it, for now. But you knew that it wasn't the last that you'd hear about it.

A few hours later, you're laying in bed, scrolling through your phone mindlessly, not thinking about a single thing, doing whatever you want without a care in the world. It was a refreshing feeling, one that you weren't used to. When you had been with Derek, you were constantly on high alert, always tense, anxiously waiting for one of his break downs, waiting for him to snap and get mad at you for something miniscule, blowing it so out of proportion.

You shake your head at the memories, rather trying to focus on current positive things in your life. You plugged your phone in, turning on your favorite show and simply drifted off into a peaceful sleep - or what you hoped would be.

But it wasn't. You tossed and turned as your dreams became increasingly more terrifying with each turn.

Snapshots of you running down the sidewalk in the middle of the night, hiding in the alley, against the wall. Your hand covering your mouth. You can see his shadow… he's standing there, slowly walking towards where you were hiding in the dark.

“Please no.” You cry out…

Until finally, you shoot up in bed, feeling the sweat dripping from your face. Your chest throbs as you sit with your eyes closed, trying to breathe through it.

You take one more deep breath, opening your eyes, seeing the shadow of a man standing in your doorway. You close your eyes again as you let out an ear curdling scream, opening your eyes once more and seeing no one there now.

Your body shakes as you try to decide what to do. Did you call the cops? Check your apartment? You locked the door…you swore you did but now you were second guessing yourself. Did you leave a window open? Was this just a dream? Yeah that must be it, it was just a dream, maybe a figment of your imagination.

You rolled out of your bed, your legs shaking as you slowly made your way out of your room. Your fingertips hover shakily above the hallway light switch as your heart races. You can feel your face heating up as you squeeze your eyes shut, clicking the light on. You take a breath before you just barely open one eye, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Both eyes open as your heart settles down, and your anxiety slowly fades away. You shuffle through the rest of your apartment, seeing nothing out of place. Your door was locked, your windows closed. You felt safe now, safe enough to turn out all the lights once again and crawl back into your bed. Sleep came easily for the rest of the night, but the nightmares refused to fade.

**

A few days later, you're standing at the bar, grabbing four drinks to bring back to your table of friends. You walk over, setting them down in front of each girl, before taking your seat beside Soomi.

“So.” Seulgi says, clasping her hands together. “Soomi says you're refusing to go after any men ever again?” She asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Oh my god.” You laugh. “For the foreseeable future, yes I have absolutely no plans.” You say, taking a sip of your drink. The three girls stare at you, each one raising an eyebrow.

“That sounds suspicious.” Chae says, giving you a side eye as she flips her hair behind her shoulder.

“It's not suspicious.” You say. “Why is my romantic life always the topic of conversation these days?”

“Because, it's like you're living in the past with Derek. So he swore at you once or twice, that's enough to swear off all men?” Seulgi asks.

“Especially maybe one with brown hair, gorgeous eyes and the most attractive face you'd ever seen?” Soomi sings.

“Um.” You breathe. You had never told any of them the real reason you broke up with him, or the fact that you thought he was stalking you after the break up. You knew they would worry, and while you loved them for it, it would be even more relentless than the conversations about your love life. “Look at that, more drinks needed. I'll get them.” You say, standing up from your chair, and walking back to the bar. You take a seat on the stool as you wait for the bartender to be finished.

“Y/N?” You hear from behind you. You turn around, and surprisingly, you see a man that Soomi had just described.

“Yes?” You say, almost hypnotized by his looks.

“It's me.” He laughs. “Chan.”

“Okay?” You say, laughing awkwardly. You had no idea who this man was or how he knew who you were.

“Are we still on for Saturday?” He asks.

“I'm sorry…” you begin. Before you can continue, the bartender is impatiently standing in front of you waiting for you to order. You tell him what drinks you want and when you look back, Chan is gone. You pay for your drinks, bringing them back to the table. You sit down in your chair, looking at each girl.

“The weirdest thing just happened to me.” You say. “A guy just came up to me and asked if we were still on for Saturday.” You murmur.

“Oh?” Seulgi responds.

“Yeah and he knew my name.” You add, looking between each girl.

“What did you say?” Chae asks.

“I couldn't really say anything, the bartender was tapping his foot while waiting for me and when I looked back he was gone.” You explain.

“That's weird.” Seulgi murmurs, giving you an uncomfortable look.

“What did you think of him?” Soomi asks.

“Why?” You wonder.

“Just, you know, curious.” She smiles.

“He was oddly specific to someone you described earlier.” You mention.

And then it hits you.

“Oh Christ, Soomi.” You sigh. “What did you do?”

“I signed you up for a dating site!” She squeals, clapping her hands. “Chan was one of the first you matched with.”

“What about I don't want to date, do you not understand?” You ask.

“I thought maybe it would be the little push you need!” She exclaims. “You have to get back out there!”

“That's not your decision to make.” You snap. “Delete it and fucking stop. I will tell you when I'm ready!” You spit, standing up, grabbing your purse and storming out of the bar.

You walked home that night, taking your time, hoping the cool air would help you calm down. It didn't really work. You were pissed off, annoyed and hurt. She had no boundaries and didn't fucking listen. You should have to explain yourself to her why you don't want to date right now.

Your walk was quiet and uneventful. You got home and checked your phone, seeing a few missed calls and texts from the girls, but mostly from Soomi, apologizing. You decided to ignore her for the rest of the night, maybe tomorrow you'd talk to her but tonight you had no interest at all.

The next day, you were wandering around the grocery store near your house when your cart bumps into someone else's. You looked up in horror, you'd been so wrapped up in your own head tou hadn't been paying attention to where you were going.

“I'm so sorry.” You say, looking up, seeing a familiar face. “Chan.”

“Y/N.” He smiles. “No worries at all.” He finishes, pulling his cart away to move around you but for some reason you felt compelled to explain things to him.

“I didn't know!” you yell. He turns around to look at you. “About the date I mean.”

“Oh?”

“My friend signed me up for the dating site… without my knowledge.”

“Oh shit. I'm sorry.” He says. “Why would someone do that?”

“She wants me to get back out there.” You sigh.

“Well that's not her decision to decide when someone is ready.” He responds.

“That's what I said.” You giggle. “Anyways, I'm really sorry.”

“Hey, it's all good. I don't want you to feel like you're being forced.” He smiles. “But if you ever decide to change your mind… I'd love to take you out.” He says, pushing his cart away. You watch him walk away, cursing Soomi silently in your head.

“Chan, wait!” You yell out. “You know…one date couldn’t hurt… right?”

“No.” He smiles.

“One date couldn't hurt.”

**If you enjoy my writing and would like to help me keep it up, please commission a story HERE**

[yoinkschief]

I did it - I finally did it, I made concept doodles of the different leaders

I've been meaning to do this for a while now, I've just kept forgetting to and then get distracted with much more pressing matters n shit so yk but I decided fuck it they don't need to be good so long as they just get my idea across,,, and then later on when I have the time, energy and patience to I can fully render them

These are all also leaning into who they are in my HCs, simply because I think it's kinda boring to just go "well what if we put person a in person b's body and keep everything else the exact same" like where's the nuance in that,,,

So all the same story beats still happen, just minor differences, like Tord still leaves and has the robot explode causing the damage (but different contexts now) and Tom is still possessed by the rage demon or whateva and Edd still gets powers and Matt still becomes a vampire,, they just are put in different plot points in the story

I don't like the idea of just reskinning characters, yk, if I were to change story beats for things like "instead of matt getting bitten by the vampire bite it was tord" I wouldn't want it to just be the same shit happens because Tord wouldn't react the same way to it as Matt would, yk ?? I don't wanna give the character's the others personalities, just their plot beats

But in this things stay relatively the same

Except in this Tom, in a desperation to live after failing to dismantle Tord's robot in an act of rage against Tord returning and pretending like nothing happened, makes a deal with his more demonic half and gives up part of his soul to live

Edd gets blown up trying to use Tord's robot against Tord's wishes and something something main characters can't die or whatever so he painfully finds out that his "poweredd" powers grant him a very fucked up version of immortality,,, I made it look goopy because I can and I'm madly in love with my partner and they've given me this idea so fuck them blame them if you want

Matt gets no lasting consequences for his actions because he's a vampire and they have MAD regenerative abilities, but he does still blow up but this time when him and Edd are fucking around in Tord's little office ?? whatever the hell it is he has stuffed in his room as a secondary room, yk when him and Edd are touching all those buttons they're not supposed to, that's what caused the robot to malfunction and Matt ends up getting the brunt of it - I mean so does Edd, and since this would be Tom's world that would probably why Matt and Edd's relationship grows sour since Edd got caught up in the blast too n whatnot I dunno I'm mostly spitballing here I haven't sat down and properly thought out these AUs yet so yk

take all of this with a grain of salt this is ALLLL subject to change in the future but for now this is what I have in my head for everything :p

[nqueso-emergency]

The only interviews I believe are Lou's and Ryan's. Everyone else.... I don't know what tf they're talking about.

It's interesting that the only interviews that came out tonight were all Tim. We didn't get Ryan, whose character is looking at houses in Texas. We didn't get Oliver, whose character is about to fucking go through hell. We didn't get Callum, who should have probably gotten an exit interview based on past events we've experienced in this fandom.

But no. It was like a Tim Exclusive Tour, and we got nothing from him that we didn't already know anyway.

I'm just honestly speechless about how things are shaping up. We see one thing on screen, a completely different thing in interviews and then absolutely nothing in promos.

I truly believe that something has happened within the cast or crew that made them really swerve away from initial plans and ideas. Maybe it's someone's desire to leave, I don't really know but it's strange and deliberately NOT being discussed openly.

And this is not me making excuses for anyone. This event, whatever it is, has completely ruined this season so far. I really hope something positive happens going forward. Otherwise, I will live in the fanon version of bucktommy and follow Lou to whatever project he does going forward.

And no, I can't ask my cousin because they are all now under a completely different contract for 8b. At least that should make the bestie boos foam at the mouth.

[theunusualchameleon]

I have to disagree with your point about corinthian columns. While they can certainly be tacky under some circumstances, with the right surroundings they can be quite tasteful.

Look how many different styles there are! In my opinion, the prettiest are the ones with smaller embellishments, a square abacus, and similar diameters above and below the carvings. This leads to an intricate, fancy, but not overwhelmingly gaudy effect.

This column is nice. It's not doing anything it doesn't have to be doing.

This is furthered by two principles I came to just now as I was looking for images for this post.

1. The decorations and abacus should stick out from whatever they're holding up minimally, if at all.

2. There should be other fancy stuff besides just corinthian columns.

The supreme court building is actually a great example of both those rules being broken. Sure, there's a little fancy stuff going on, but the vibe of the building is 'imposing' rather than 'fancy'. The abacus doesn't stick out as much as some of the more egregious examples I've seen, but they disrupt the natural path of the eye by how much they do protrude, further damaging the 'imposing' vibe.

For an example of corinthian columns done well and contributing to the unity of the space, please take a look at my childhood church, First Unitarian of Baltimore:

The columns are a bit hard to see because this picture was not taken by column enthusiasts, but they are corinthian and they are beautiful. And they obey my rules perfectly! The ornamentation is well-contained, the abaci are square, they don't extrude out of their given space, and most importantly, COMPLETELY SURROUNDED BY OTHER FANCY SHIT. Mosaic of the last supper! Stained glass! Statues! Ornamental moulding! Hundreds of tiny lights in the ceiling! The corinthian columns are right at home here, surrounded by other fancy shit.

And whoever designed First Unitarian understood this! Because only the interior columns are corinthian! Outside, which is plainer and mostly lets the size and marble do the talking?

Fucking. Doric. There's a time and a place for everything, especially with column choice. I rest my case.

hi there i saw your comic and i didn’t want to distract from the point but are you genuinely into column differentiation. because if so that sounds fascinating and i would love to hear about it

yes i am!! i opened tumblr to several requests in my inbox for this so here we go, a quick overview:

There are five general types of columns in Greco-Roman architecture: Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, Tuscan, and Composite. I’m mostly going to focus on the Greek 3, as Tuscan columns are basically just Doric columns but bald and Composite are, surprisingly, a composite of other types.

(technically there’s also Roman Doric vs Greek Doric but we’re keeping it simple)

In terms of the shaft, all 3 Greek columns are relatively the same, they differ the most in their top chunk aka the entablature. Doric columns are very simple, growing more complex with ionic and even more so with Corinthian. However do not confuse complexity with appeal! Corinthian Columns are often over decorated and gaudy.

For example, look at the Supreme Court building.

This is an abomination. The Corinthian columns exude opulent wealth and frivolous decor, which is not what you want from a building meant to instill justice. But it’s the US so who’s shocked. Anyways

Compare to the long lasting elegant Doric columns of the Parthenon. They may look simple, but they’re also complex in a way you might not expect: the Greeks used columns to form optical illusions.

The columns actually aren’t straight, they’re curved just right to make the whole building appear perfectly straight. For a modern example, lets look at the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland! Surprisingly the imagineers at Disney have an overlap with the ancient architects of Greece: they mess with perspective to create broader illusions of size and depth. And look at those beautiful Doric columns. Elegant. Graceful. A sign of wealth without excess. This should be our supreme court

[megamindsupremacy]

Clark Pines AU random headcanons

-sometimes Stan and Ford pull the "switch clothes and talk differently to see if anyone can tell the difference" trick to mess with the twins, and they fall for it a solid 35% of the time, but Clark never falls for it because he can hear their hearts and Ford's heart is FUCKED UP due to the gazillion volts of electricity he got during weirdmageddon

-Clark almost didn't go to college to stay and work at the Shack and maybe convince his dad to finally let him help with the portal, but Stan recognized Clark was smart af and didn't want Clark to be held back for his sake. And then Stan had twenty crises in a row when it came time for Clark to actually Go To College

-Clark has to wear (reading) glasses but he doesn't like the feel of them so he usually just carries them around and wears them as infrequently as possible. And then his entire secret identity becomes "put on glasses" so he has to wear them all the time and he's REALLY MAD about it

-Clark was originally going to college for some sort of mechanics/engineering degree, but once he left Gravity Falls, he realized just how weird his hometown is. Like, he was theoretically aware, but the guy lived there his whole life. He left a few times to visit the twins and their parents or for miscellaneous other reasons but he never really lived outside of Gravity Falls for any amount of time. So it kinda hits him how different The Real World (for lack of a better term) is, and he decides to switch to communications/journalism major instead. Also, he was not very good at engineering.

-The Mystery Twins are approximately the same age as Robin!Dick so they become pretty good friends over the years. Mabel has a gigantic insane crush on Dick and Dick has a tiny baby crush on Dipper and everybody is oblivious about everything except for Bruce and Clark, who have to silently suffer together about the situation until everyone gets over it.

-Dipper gets really into magic and spells and stuff as he gets older so he becomes Clark's go-to "there's weird shit happening and it's not the genre I usually deal with" person. It isn't his life's work like with Constantine or Zatanna, so he isn't a JLDark member or anything, but he definitely Knows Some Shit.

-I'm cooking something along the lines of "Mabel becomes the youngest congresswoman ever at age 18" simply because I think it would be funny and because nobody ever acknowledges how that one frozen president technically made Mabel a congresswoman in that one episode.

-You know how Jon Kent is named that after Clark's Canon Dad Jonathan Kent? Clark tries to name his kid "Stan" after his dad and uncle and both Stanley and Stanford are like don't you FUCKING dare, we have enough Stans in this family, please give your son a better name dear god

-When the Young Justice team (yj98, NOT yjtv) forms, there's a running bit where they keep fucking running into either Mabel or Dipper on every other mission, except none of them know they're Superman's cousins so they think these two weirdos are trying to do Evil Stuff when in fact they're just living their lives, and these lives happen to be absolutely insane enough to keep crossing over with teenage superhero shenanigans.

[sleepymccoy]

Okay so something happened in the trekdom (is that a term anyone has ever used)

I think spirk got canonised?? Or something?? And I assume that as my certified Trekkie Mutual you feel some kinda way about this. you’re a Spones shipper but still how we doing?

I'm sure someone's used trekdom! It makes sense as a word regardless

I appreciate the Trekkie certification lol

Yeah dude, look. Most of the fandom is big into spirk so like people enjoying that romance is par for the course! I got nothing against spirk, it's just a bit of a boring dynamic so I don't really spend time on it. Too healthy for my tastes. Spones is way more juicy, it's got the tension and the sort of different world views that you see in good omens, so it's fun!

To be clear tho, spirk is as canon as it's ever been. Strong subtext, but in the way that a homophobe could watch it and say well they're just good friends. Nothing has changed in that sense, it's just another bit of footage doing more of the same. It's less gay than a lot of the original series, but it's new and shiny so on a surface level i get the excitement

Shatner, who plays Kirk, has done this as a non canon short film. It's apparently considered as canon as the novels? Which is like, not much. Most people don't engage. I haven't really looked into that, im not gonna watch it cos it kind of pisses me off

The thing that really fucks my goat about it is that the guy who plays Spock died a while ago, and didn't get along with the guy who plays Kirk. But the guy who plays Kirk has funded and produced and managed this whole thing to be about his character and his importance, regardless of the wishes of the original Spock actor. Including literally doing someone up in prosthetics to look more like Nimoy. Not just Spock generally, but specifically Nimoy's Spock. Nimoy was involved in star trek films in his late life, and he didn't choose to do this when he was alive. Only after his death has Shatner forced this to happen

That's what's leaving a really bad taste in my mouth. And I feel like people are either not accepting Nimoy's death and are happy to see him puppeted by someone he disliked, which makes me pity them. I work in aged care so I know I'm more comfortable with death than the average, but like. This is a bit fucking dark, no? It's maudlin, let him rest in peace for fucks sake.

That, or they don't mind the manipulation of his image if it tickles their ship, which makes me dislike them. And I don't think I'll really get over that any time soon, it's so disrespectful. And those are both negative feelings, so I'm kind of generally not pleased about my dash rn

I'm trying to take an angle of being about McCoy cos he doesn't feature in the short and that feels wrong. Spock-centric stuff is feeling a little tainted right now, but I'm sure that'll pass. Fanart is different to this kind of image stealing, but it's still weird for me rn. And as much as I love Kirk, I can't remove him from Shatner and his megalomania right now. I hope that'll pass, but I don't think Shatner's gonna stop here so. Hm.

Besides I like McCoy and he's not complicated by all this so I'm just continuing to play in my little sandbox

It's a weird time for trekdom. There's a bit of a rift, and not down shipping lines. I'm seeing a lot of posts working through their complicated feeling around the disrespect inherent in stealing Nimoy's face for Shatner. And I'm seeing other people celebrate the disrespect cos their ship held hands and that makes it worth it.

I'm hoping people overwhelmingly calm down a bit in a week, get a bit embarassed about how pleased they were over something so gross, and it just sort of goes away. Then we can all go back to having a go at Shatner for his constant sexism and homophobia

At least it's not fucking AI tho!

[hussyknee]

I replied to @aelfwyn and @homosociallyyours the comments but I'm going to C+P them here because y'all USAmericans need to stop seeing yourselves as an exceptional kind of monster. As a settler colony, the dynamics are more complex, but being conditioned to put race solidarity above class interests isn't a uniquely white thing. It's a colonial thing that's shared by the majoritarian population of most nations in the Global South because our countries are colonial borders that we inherited. Once the Europeans fucked off after 200 years or so, suddenly there's a former administrative border that's 70% Group A and 30% Group B. Group A then consolidates power by genociding the shit out of Group B, colonizing their land. And then any yahoo from Group A can get their fellows to sacrifice their own class interests by promising to keep Group B in their place. Cue decades of separatism and militarization, keeping the country in a state of emergency that leads to an autocratic government and eroded democratic freedom.

Basically, post-colonial Global South nations like us have inherited the same violence you see in white settler societies like the US, Israel, Australia, except for the part where y'all get rich by keeping half the world in war and poverty lol. But the exploitation, war mongering and refugee crises created by that end up empowering your own fascists and creates an untouchable elite class that wreaks havoc even among the settlers at home— which is where most of the West is at now. You experience the same violence we do, but only in the end stages of colonialism.

This is why for Sri Lankans, watching the US and the West the last few years gives us déjà vu. You know how the US ousted Trump in 2020 but then the Dems were such a bunch of out of touch crony capitalists that betrayed all the minorities that turned out for them and allowed the hatred of immigrants and Muslims to became so widespread that Trump is now back in charge with control of House, Senate and Supreme Court? That happened to us in 2019.

(Putting in bullet points so you can follow easier.)

– The Rajapaksas came to power in 2005 by promising what Sinhalese Buddhists call "ending the civil war" and the rest of the world calls "the 2008 Tamil Genocide". They were all but worshipped as saviours of the nation and became a political dynasty on a wave of rabid entho-nationalist fervour.

– However, they put paid to all that loyalty and goodwill over 10 years of Marcos-level corruption, extra-judicial terrorism, embezzlement, nepotism, fraud, civil rights suppression, and autocratic rule.

– When Mahinda Rajapaksa tried to amend the Constitution and contest for the Presidency a third time in 2015, even his own home district turned out to oust the lot of them in favour of a coalition govt.

– This coalition was created between a splinter faction of the Rajapaksas's ethnofascist socialist party led by diet racist Maithipala Sirisena (nicknamed My3) and the minority-friendly neoliberal Opposition led by Ranil Wickremesinghe.

– (He is known for despotically sitting on the party leadership pot for 40 years while unable to shit.)

– This ramshackle entity was called the "Yahapalanya" Government ("Good Governance"...government) No one really trusted or liked it but they were the "lesser evil" compared to the Rs.

– (Yes, our left-wing is fiscally liberal and socially conservative and right-wing is socially liberal and fiscally conservative. The kind of situation Tankies cannot compute. But honestly the difference between them is that neoliberals sell national resources to foreign investors and pocket the money and the socialists accrue foreign debt for national infrastructure that they then rob at both ends. They're both varying levels of ethnonationalist union-busters.)

– The neoliberal policies of the Yahapalanya coalition began to rebuild the economy. But they ignored the poor and working class who were struggling and starving, ignored the minorities that were being terrorised by ethnofascist mobs, and generally reminded everyone how much they were the same kind of incompetent, corrupt, crony capitalist assholes. Pointing at dollar rates, industry gains and the rise of the gig economy while the majority of poor still can't put food on the table isn't a winning argument, especially while scamming the Central Bank and protecting your own crooked MPs. (Stop me if any of this sounds familiar.)

– They still might have won a second term, especially after the Rs jumped the gun in 2018 and attempted a Parliamentary coup by getting President My3 to defect back to them. That put the Rs back in disfavour, but much less so than they were in 2015.

– But the coup led to Yahapalanya's My3-Ranil hell marriage falling apart once and for all.

– Amid the disarray, the Rs got a bunch of ISIS radicals from nowhere to orchestrate the worst terrorist attack we've ever experienced on Easter Sunday 2019, that the Yahapalanya govt failed to prevent out of sheer shocking incompetence.

– (Anyone with a brain knew they were behind it the minute the bombs went off, but no one can accuse the average voter of having one when the alternative is the opportunity to scapegoat a minority).

– The My3-Ranil coalition proceeded to completely bungle the aftermath, refusing to resign from either government or their respective party leaderships, going after any and all Muslims as hard as the Rs ever did, and mud-slinging at each other instead of taking responsibility.

– Gotabaya Rajapaksa, Mahinda's brother and Defence Minister who was in charge of the Tamil genocide during his Presidency, became the rallying cry of the nation

– The neoliberal party (UNP) got sick of Ranil and realized they'd never win another election under his leadership with the entire country howling for his blood. All but a handful of them walked out from under him and formed their own party, the SJB, which stood as the Opposition.

– Meanwhile, the Rs created their own party, absorbing most of the socialist legacy party (SLFP), and made the SLFP itself a minor coalition partner under My3—thus effectively dismantling the two-party legacy of 75 years.

– The new neoliberal party SJB, lacking the structure and generational support of their parent, couldn't find its own ass with both hands and a mirror on a stick. And so Gotabaya Rajapaksa swept to a landslide Presidential win in 2019 virtually unimpeded on the wave of racist, Islamophobic hysteria.

– That's right, we hated Tamils and Muslims so much we elected Mahinda's barely-leashed attack dog that his own brothers feared, who was known to disappear political dissenters and feed them to crocodiles. (No, really. He did. This is a guy who has a shark tank in his house. Fuckin' James Bond-ass villain.)

– This was followed by a super majority for the Rajapaksa party in the 2020 Parliamentary elections, only the second in our history. It installed former President Mahinda Rajapaksa as Prime Minister, glutted the Parliament with Rajapaksa cronies and yes-men even worse and allowed them to introduce Constitutional amendments that basically made Gota all but king.

– Gota then disregarded all his advisors and his brother and proceeded to completely bankrupt the country via massive fraud during COVID. Within two and half years, our treasury was completely empty. We had no fuel, food, medicine, we went into 7 hour brownouts in the middle of a heatwave, people died in miles-long queues for essentials and cooking gas, the country ground to a stand still.

– This is why in April 2022, one of the most massive sustained country-wide citizen protests in the world erupted in Sri Lanka. Apparently the Sinhalese Buddhists that brought these fucks to power could stomach genocide, war crimes, tortures and murders of journalists and activists, scapegoating, terrorizing and witch hunting minorities and busting unions, but when the urban middle class SinBuds can't feed OUR children is when we have enough.

– The govt repeatedly brutalized protestors for weeks until the working class and poor finally snapped and burned down several dozen of their houses, including the Prime Minister's mansion. It was only then that PM Mahinda resigned and Parliament dissolved. (I say again, protest only works when you're prepared to resort to violence as the alternative.)

– Then instead of resigning himself, Gota went to fucking Ranil, who in 2020 had failed to win his own seat in Parliament and was only there because of a Constitutionally reserved seat for the UNP.

– After twenty fucking years being enemies, Gota made a deal that allowed Ranil to be PM again in exchange for heading an interim coalition govt with the Rajapaksa party.

– Ranil got the urban liberals to turn on the poor and unions by waving a return to stability and fuel resupply in front of them, which made the protests break down.

– Predictably, nothing got better.

– A few weeks later, hundreds of thousands of Sri Lankans travelled to the capital during the fuel crisis. They came hanging off trains, loaded on top of trucks and buses, and even on foot. They all physically stormed the President's mansion and forced Gota to flee the country.

– While Gota was flying around like panicked bird trying to find a country without an extradition treaty and the Lankans lit fireworks in celebration, Ranil forced a Parliamentary vote that made him Executive President once Gota resigned, and created another interim govt.

– HE GOT THE LIBERALS TO BETRAY US AGAIN.

– He had the military crack down on protestors (firing tear gas from helicopters!!), making arrests, allowed all the Rs and their cronies to come back yet again, and refused to call elections for another 18 months.

– (I personally became suicidal over it and it's why I will kill liberals on sight. They are the worst kind of maggot in creation, a knife hovering over the back of every left-wing push for change.)

– Ranil being Ranil he fucked over the "stability"-minded libs for the second time as well.

– By the time he was forced by the Supreme Court to call elections, the entire country was furious and sick to death of the entire two-party clown show and all the career criminals on both sides of the fence.

– The left-wing 3rd party coalition the NPP, that formed around the nucleus of the former Marxist party, the JVP, was the only one that rose in people's estimation. They were the only one that had stayed on ground zero of the protests with unconditional support for the unions and students without trying to co-opt them. They had run on an anti-racist, truly progressive platform, promising to crack down on corruption in 2020 and had been reduced to just three seats, but those three seats were occupied by charismatic, erudite, canny and organized MPs free of scandal. They were literally the only feasible option by virtue of being the only one that wasn't a disorganised, flaming dumpster fire run by crooks.

– But even then, 30 years of Red Scare was so effective that JVP leader Anura Kumara Dissanayake (AKD) is the only one to become President without an over 50% majority in the first preferential vote.

– AKD dissolved Parliament immediately and announced General Elections, operating until then with a Cabinet that only comprised the three seated NPP members (himself, my professor, and Vijitha Herath, that ended up beating her as the MP with the most preferential votes in any election. Boo.)

– The bunch of incompetent nepo babies in the Opposition SJB further alienated, enraged and disaffected even the ones that had turned out for them six weeks previously—

– —so that at the General Election, every single district turned red. The whole country has never turned any one colour in our 75 years of universal franchise. Even people who predicted a 2/3rds majority are shocked. Apparently the Tamils and Muslims of the North and East are just as sick of their own representatives.

So now we're in this new era of what-the-fuck where we can apparently expect things of our elected representatives other than "please don't fuck us over too badly", but it remains to be seen whether any long term lessons will stick.

Basically, if you live in the US, you can also look forward to this kind of thing if Trump burns the whole place to the ground in less than 4 years, along with the GOP. Sooner or later it will be the white liberal's turn to be eaten, and that is when the left will be able to rise up and answer fascism with violence. Nick Fuentez's house got burned down so you can already see it starting to happen. All you had to do was get white women on your side.

Also the reason our protestors weren't massacred like others have been historically, and how Bangladeshis were this year, is because enough of the military and police personnel were also disaffected that they decided they weren't paid enough for this and even joined the protestors in the end. At some point, even the enforcers of the elite must realize that they are the working class. The army and cops that protected Sheikh Hasina in Bangladesh did not, and it did nothing to deter the student protestors that led the charge. Students of public unis here were also the ones who were our vanguard. Student leaders are the great white hope of society and every time we let the state throw them to their dogs we're letting ourselves get eaten alongside them.

Trying to explain what the fuck just happened in Lankan politics today.

The leftist party has won 159 seats out of 218 in the Parliamentary elections. The single biggest landslide win since we broke from the British and achieved universal franchise in 1948.

Any party achieving a super majority in the executive and legislative is, objectively speaking, bad. It disables checks and balances, which is a catastrophic thing for any democracy, and the only two other times it's happened for us has irrevocably eroded the fabric of civic rights and democratic freedom. Also, the reason the NPP won the North and East is that the colonized, genocided and subjugated people there have no faith in electoralism anymore. The way this government has engaged minority issues has been utterly abysmal and now they've been rewarded for it.

On the other hand:

The winners. Are all. Grassroots. Candidates.

We have voted out every single career criminal that's been barnacled into the Lankan political arena since before I've been alive. The fascist party has only three seats. The other fascists didn't win a single seat. The neoliberal legacy party won none. There are only forty people in Parliament that represent any sort of dynastic political legacy. After 76 solid years of nothing but political dynasties.

This is barely five years after the Rajapaksas swept in and absolutely glutted the Parliament with their family members and cronies end to end.

This is the illegitimate interim government we had for most of the last 18 months. We literally, physically, chased the Rajapaksas out of the country and this fucking demon set up a puppet government just so he could finally sit in that goddamn chair and be the despot he'd always dreamed of in exchange for letting them all come back. He's now gone. His entire circle is gone.

THEY ARE ALL FUCKING GONE.

In US terms, just imagine the entire GOP and the worst of the Dems destroyed and purged from Congress and Senate, the Green Party in control of all three branches of government, an unmarried abortion rights activist Vice President, and the Dems reduced to barely 20% of the House. Five years from now, when Trump's GOP has control of everything.

This is my anthropology professor. She joined politics from the small nascent leftist coalition to help keep the government accountable. She's now the Prime Minister and the most popular Parliamentary candidate in the nation's history.

On the other hand— the woman who helped make me a radical anarchist and literally helped write a book on political dissent and resistance...now is the state.

But there are so many women in Parliament! We had the lowest female representation in a South Asian Parliament and some of them were from the list of seats reserved for parties rather than elected ones. Most were either anti-feminist conservative embarrassments, widows and daughters of elite politicians and neoliberal shills. It's still only an increase of a few percentage points but now we have elected academics, feminist advocates, activists! THERE IS A REPRESENTATIVE FOR MALAIYAHA TAMILS IN THE CENTRAL PROVINCE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HISTORY AND IT'S A YOUNG WOMAN! This is the plantation community that still live in conditions closest to the slavery the British forced upon them two hundred years ago!

I'm like. Completely mindfucked. To be very very clear, these people are not Marxists or anything near; they're mild social democrats who would only be threatening to like, USAmerican liberals, who are now center-right. The actual chances for radical reform are still quite low, and the opportunity for further erosion is extremely high.

On the other hand:

What the fuck.

Sometimes living through historical events is really damn amazing.

[spikyiwaizumi]

It’s a perfect morning for a hike.

The chill dusts Yaku’s nose as a soft winter kiss, his hot breathing tearing up his throat as he pushed onwards.

His thighs strain with pleasant effort, the slope harsh and unforgiving under his well broken-in boots, a stone breaking free of the thin, frozen layer of snow to bounce down behind him. They're all familiar sensations, worn into his skin almost as deeply as the court.

With one difference.

A gasp heaves behind Yaku. He turns back to his companion, who is bent over, hands on his knees.

“Wow, you really have left yourself go, huh?”

“Shut —“ here one of Kuroo’s hands lifts weakly, flagging his words. “— the fuck —“

“I’m waiting.”

“Up.”

The last line is delivered with a laboured expulsion of breath. Kuroo’s hand drops back to his knee, his gulping of air audible to even where Yaku is standing. He grins.

Kuroo had always been a single step faster than him in high school, and even in the early years of university he could hold his own; it’s nice to get the upper hand for once.

Yet something needles at Yaku; a slight twinge in his knee. A reminder that he, too, is getting older.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo continues, straightening up. “That I can’t keep up with an Olympian while having an actual career.”

An actual career, huh?

Kuroo probably hadn’t meant it like that, but Yaku becomes aware of a pit in his gut, one that had been growing since he hit thirty. It seemed to swallow good moments with the overwhelming knowledge of time, and Yaku hadn’t adjusted to it yet.

“Your career is literally making my career a viable thing.”

“Semantics.”

"I don't think you know what that word means."

"I don't think you know either."

Yaku flips up his middle finger at him, and Kuroo cracks a grin, trudging up alongside Yaku.

“I’m good to go for a while longer.”

“I can carry you, if you’d like.”

The answering glare that Kuroo gives him makes Yaku grin again, the movement of his cheeks feeling welcome, as if dislodging a layer of frost.

The camera shutter noise rings out alone in the deserted, slumbering mountains.

“Shame Kai couldn’t see this,” Yaku mentions as he sends the photo to him.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s devastated,” Kuroo says. “Being flown in to Australia to consult on Japanese flora there instead of waking up at an obscene hour for a hike must be so awful for him.”

“His girlfriend got a ticket too, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo sighs, resting his hands on his hips. “Well, fiancé now. He had a plus one, and I can't believe that he brought his fiancé instead of say, one of his best friends of…”

He scrunches his brows, hesitating. Yaku wants to laugh.

“Don’t strain your—“

“Eighteen years!”

“There you go,” Yaku says encouragingly, and Kuroo shoots him a death glare.

“Don’t pretend that you were any better at me at math.”

Sticking out his tongue, Yaku winks at him. "At least I'm not the one who called Akaashi at two in the morning, crying over his project finance homework."

"He told you that?! And I wasn't crying, just on the verge of tears -"

"Like that's any better."

It works, as it always had. Kuroo doesn't notice Yaku speeding up, doesn't notice how they move faster when sunk into arguing. Maybe he does, and chooses to say nothing.

The sunrise is a haze of orange and pink, and Yaku thinks that it looks beautiful. It shines against the snow-patched hillsides, throwing up brilliant glares as it spreads across the mountains, claiming them for the morning. Here and there, a grey cluster of rocks emerge from the snow, as if waking up.

He glances across at Kuroo. Kuroo, who had agreed to take a day off of the work he loved so dearly to join Yaku at ass o’clock in the morning to clamber up a mountain to catch a sunrise.

He’d sounded tired on the phone when Yaku had called, just at the end of his workday, just long enough for Kuroo to run into his boss’ office and tell him that he needed the day tomorrow — yes, he apologised for the short notice, yes, he had everything in order — and then returning to Yaku to curse him out for forcing him to do that.

Yaku had asked why he wasn’t the boss yet, how come his career was flatlining, and Kuroo’s swearing at him had increased at a rate Yaku hadn’t thought possible before.

Yet he’s here.

“I missed this,” Yaku says.

“Yeah,” Kuroo agrees. His tone is a little wistful, softened by the sight in front of them. “I can’t remember the last time I went hiking.”

He's here, with his hands set on his hips, his chest driving out with each hard breath. There's unmistakable satisfaction in the curl of his lips.

“Better than lazing about on the beach, huh?” Yaku comments, moving closer to elbow Kuroo in the side. “Glad to hear you’ve seen the light.”

“Hey, that was not me saying that mountains are better.”

“Not yet.”

Yaku grins up at him, and he sees the edges of Kuroo’s lips curve upwards in response, despite trying to cling onto the mask of annoyance. His gaze wanders upwards, over Kuroo’s rough cheeks, a day’s worth of black stubble sprouting up, to the almost invisible scar on his cheekbone left from one of Fukunaga’s “inventions,” to rest on the grey bags beneath his eyes.

Cradled in the delicate glow of the sunrise, Tetsurou feels familiar and strange, all at once.

The pit stretches its muscles inside Yaku’s gut again, the pit that consumes his friends’ lives and leaves men in their places that Yaku only half-knows. His absence had been a choice.

He doesn’t regret it, but he acknowledges the painful consequences.

Swallowing, he turns back to the sunrise, and thinks he feels a wave of warmth from it. Kuroo is still a bachelor. Yaku has waited over a decade, expecting him to be one of those consequences, one that he paid the moment he chose to pursue volleyball professionally. He wets his dry, cracked lips, and glances up at Kuroo again.

Kuroo’s face is awash with an orange tint, and there are folds Yaku doesn’t recognise, smile lines faded into his skin, his bone structure just a fraction more prominent than before. Yaku wants to relearn all of it — maybe even better than before. His eyes are creased up in the way they always did when he was considering something; his tongue working within his mouth.

“I’d have brought you here sooner if I knew this is what made you speechless,” he says, and Kuroo’s removed, thoughtful expression vanishes. It's replaced by a flicker of a fondness, a momentary splinter before his usual laid-back expression settles in.

Instead of a snarky retort, Kuroo only leans his forearm on Yaku’s shoulder. He's heavy. Yaku can feel his body heat, revved up from the walk, radiating against his side.

“You’d get bored without my quick wit,” Kuroo proclaims. “We can't ever go to a mountain peak at sunrise again. Only beaches from now on, I think.”

He flashes a smile down at Yaku, and Yaku, after climbing up a tough trail for two hours, now, only now, feels woozy. He wasn’t a stranger to how Kuroo makes him feel. He’d been ignoring it for years.

Consequences.

Yaku looks down at Kuroo’s hand, jutting past his shoulder, dangling in the air. He’d stripped off his gloves at some point during their hike, and the tips of his fingers are tinged with a dusty pink, just visible through the brown. They’re lined. Yaku thinks of Kuroo telling him how his last relationship didn’t work out, that they wanted different things.

For the first time in a long time, Yaku stares at a Japanese sunrise and thinks of coming home.

Bending his elbow, he reaches up and takes Kuroo’s warm hand in his, interlacing their fingers. Beside him, Kuroo shifts his weight; taking more off of Yaku.

One last time, Yaku upturns his face to meet Kuroo’s gaze. His whole body is buzzing with the risk he’d just taken, but Kuroo’s steady eye contact grounds him; reminds him that they’d be alright, no matter what.

He inhales the crisp air, tasting a new day.

Waits.

“You’re serious?”

Kuroo’s voice is low, stripped of all and any teasing edge.

Yaku nods.

“I’m serious.”