#certified hex post

[hex-fox]

I PASSED MY DRIVERS TEST!!!!!!

[partiallithopseffect]

seven/ace/hex relisten <3

I’ve been really missing the seventh doctor recently so decided it was time to relisten to Hex’s storyline in the Big Finish main range! Its been ages since I first heard some of these (and i’ve never listened past Protect and Survive before) so I’m genuinely excited :) One of my favourite BF arcs so far I think!

I’m going to note down my thoughts as I go, starting with The Harvest:

I love how this story introduces us to Hex. He’s a sweet guy, it’s his birthday and he’s already having the worst time of his life. Sorry king it will NOT get better

I also enjoy the trend of Seven stories where he’s just skulking around for most of episode 1. Ace is like this is my dad he loves lurking

It’s such an optimistic vision of 2021? I love the reference to “Big Ben and the Museum of Parliament”. I wish. That and the all the tech the hospital use feels so far in the future even now

That being said there’s a weird Brexity vibe later on? The whole program being run by the Euro-Combine and all. Seven even blames the whole thing on “Eurocrats in Brussels” at one point. It just feels strange. I had enough of that in 2016 thanks

“Sus”

Seven is absolutely flirting with System in part two. Oh my. I bet she loves him rewiring her insides

I like this take on the Cybermen too. The fact that these specific Cybermen want to be converted back into humans is really interesting!

I like how it makes the Cybermen kind of messy? I tend to see Cyber-conversion as a one-way, homogenising process but this story says so—there are those Cybermen who want it reversed. And i love how grotesque and body-horrory that reverse process is

Even the obligatory twist about how the Cyberleader was in control the whole time! doesn’t detract from that core idea too much—he’s still clearly finding joy in becoming human, even if it’s only with the end goal of completely Cyber-converting the rest of the human race

As a final thought—the sound design on this story is so… dense? So much is happening all at once it’s kind of hard to keep track of voices, especially near the end

Overall though I enjoyed this one a lot! It’s got a great, cold atmosphere with lots of gnarly stuff behind the scenes. I haven’t talked much about Hex but his dynamic with 7 & Ace is already great and probably my favourite part of this story. 8/10 overall i think!

TARDIS wiki moment: remember the Euro-combine treaty? That links in to the UNIT story The Longest Night! I like all those tiny references in the early BF years tbh

[knavves]

ANYTHING 4 MY FAV LADY ft various bllk & hq! men — them being your certified munches !

wc: 0.7k ノ cw + tw: nsfw (18+). fem reader. cunnilingus. praise. body worship. male masturbation. face sitting. overstimulation. teasing. hair pulling. use of pet names.

every time you post, he is the first to swipe up on your story just to tell you how fine you are, like your own personal hype man. and of course you entertain it, with the way he's showering you with praise and saying how you looked extra beautiful in the pic you posted that day, how could you not?

when he has you in front of him though, clad in a skimpy outfit he'd told you was his favorite, he's speechless. so bold over text but heart thumping uncontrollably now that he has you, a fantasy he could only pray would come true as he fucked his fist to the thought of you. when you tell him to "eat you out and maybe you'll let him fuck you" he's on his knees in an instant. you adore him you really do but it's an ego trip to see someone so eager for you and only you so you can't really help but tease him a little. he loves it anyway.

he takes his time with you, wanting to savor this moment. he hooks his fingers around the hem of your lacy panties, noting that the color really complimented you. god you were gorgeous. he could spend hours between your legs just worshipping you but he doesn't wanna keep his pretty baby waiting. "you're so beautiful, my love." he says with an overbearing amount of sincerity laced in every word. his cock throbs at the sight of your cunt glistening with your arousal, all for him? he wouldn't believe it if he was told so.

you gasp at the vibrations of him groaning into your cunt when he finally tastes you. even while his tongue is deep inside your spongey walls and lapping at your sensitive clit, he makes sure to let you know how fucking good you taste. his jaw may ache and his knees might be bruised from being rested against the floor for so long but he has to get you to cum over and over on his tongue so you know how much he cherishes you.

yukimiya, aryu, aiku, ness, hinata, hanamaki, bokuto, akaashi, semi, kita, osamu

who is he if he's not blowing his money on his beautiful girl? he's infatuated with you, borderline obsession if he's being honest. but it's impossible not to be, it's like you've hexed him or something. his mind is constantly spiraling with thoughts of you and only you, he's never wanted someone as badly as he does you.

his budget is unlimited when it's for your needs. pricy lingerie and silky dresses, all of it is for you. he acts frantically, the thought of you getting wooed over by another person frustrates him. so he spoils you in hopes he's the only one ever on your mind just like you're the only one on his.

when you cup his cheek and coo about how he's always so good to you with that playful smirk etching at the corners of your lips, he plays coy as if he isn't throbbing in his boxers at your praise. "no need to be so shy, baby. i think i should reward my good boy." you playfully jut your bottom lip in a pout and lightly pat his cheek. it's like the air was knocked from his lungs and his adam's apple bobs as he swallows nervously. only then does he realizes he hadn't said anything when you screw your eyebrows together, "oh? do you not-" "n-no. i do. i want to taste you, please." fuck the effect you had on him was almost embarrassing.

his hands smooth over your hips and down to your thighs, laying awe struck beneath you as your cunt hovers above his face. "fuck you're so pretty, baby." he groans before attaching himself to your clit. he suckles on your sensitive bud harder, lathering it in his spit, ripping more pitiful squeals and small gasps from your lips.

he doesn't even want anything in return, just being smothered by your pussy is enough for him. even while he's painfully hard in his pants and mindlessly thrusting his hips into the air, it doesn't matter to him.

"that's it, sit on my face more. i got you, m gonna make you cum." and you do just that, tugging on his roots as his wet muscle slides into your dripping hole. he loves it when you lose yourself, grinding on him and using his mouth to get yourself off.

his pupils are blown wide when you let up, the lower half of his face covered with your slick from him messily eating you out. his chest is heaving and his ears are tinted with a red blush but despite it all he asks to have you on his tongue once more.

karasu, sae, kaiser, barou, atsumu, suna, kageyama, kuroo, iwaizumi, matsukawa

© knavves : reposting, plagiarizing, modifying, and translating is NOT allowed.

[totallyhextra]

People? In MY computer?? It's more likely than you think!

The following is a fanvertisment and is not connected to the show. ****Yet.*** *Also yes, this is the fourth time I'm posting this because TUMBLR WONT LET ME EDIT SPELLING MISTAKES!

ANYWAY,

Once upon a time, back in 1987, Dire Straits put out this music video for “Money for Nothing”, which, as you know, was a song about wanting my MTV. 

The video was made by two guys (Gavin Blair and Ian Pearson) on a very moody computer. After the video went out, these two guys went to a pub:

Ian: “Hey, we should make a whole show like this!”

Gavin: “Dude, making three minutes almost killed us.”

And so it was decided!🎉

The two guys were joined by two other guys (Phil Mitchell and John Grace) and created the Hub, which then became Mainframe Entertainment. They got even more people, and then they all holed up in this hotel.

They were mad lads with a dream: a whole cgi animated show, and they made it happen a whole year before Toy Story!

Behold! ReBoot!

(Yes that fever dream was real)

Now before I get any of this:

Let me lay this down. If you can’t with the animation of the first season because it was CUTTING EDGE IN 1994, you can close your eyes and listen to it. ReBoot wasn’t just a CGI gimmick. The characters are fully developed, the voice actors are peerless, the plot is sharp, and there’s so many easter eggs that you’ll never find them all.

Never

(And yes the episode "Bad Bob" was the actual catalyst for Fury Road. Look it up)

ReBoot is about what life is like in a computer (in the 90s, because it was the 90s) called Mainframe (because of course it is). People are sprites, the guys that look like 1s and 0s are binomes (which represent 1s and 0s). Bad guys are viruses, and the good guy is a Guardian named Bob, who is a certified cinnamon roll.

In the first season the eps are light and self-contained, mainly because there was constant friction between the Mainframe studios and the Board of Standards and Practices.

They still got away with some pretty dark stuff, like Megabyte (virus) making Enzo (the kid) watch his dog get sliced open (dog got away, obviously) , Dot (sprite) have a hallucinatory breakdown, and the fridge horror of realizing the thousands of worm things (nulls) that plunged off a bridge to their death were actually people.

And Hex's (virus

best girl) scary face single-handedly traumatized an entire generation. 🙂

But busting through a window was a no go, because WhAt If tHe cHiLdReN dID iT tOo?

Anyway, halfway through the second season, ABC cut them loose, so they were like, fuck it, we’re going to start going hard. The story shifted from episodic to arcs and things start to get serious.

Third season the show moved to YTV in Canada, which gave no fucks about shielding the innocent children.

So it got DARK

How dark?

The UK refused to show the entire season, so the audience there had to wait until pirated copies made it across the pond to see how it ended.

Also by 1997, the animation was gorgeous. (Best example of third season animation I could think of that didn't have spoilers)

The show was green-lit for a fourth season on Cartoon Network, but halfway through production Warner Bros took over and the same fucking thing happened.

Because Mainframe was halfway done, they decided not to scrap all of it, but knowing they wouldn't be able to finish it correctly, Mainframe stripped anything that would hint at Season Four's true ending, then left what remained on a cliff-hanger of angst.

FOR 22 YEARS

(It's also why the last four eps of season four seem to make no sense)

And so it was.

Other crap happened, the soul left Mainframe, and its animated corpse spat out “The Guardian Code” in 2018. 

But never say die! The year is (almost) 2024, 30 years later. ReBoot shall rise from the dead, because here come the documentary!!

Do you dare see what you’ve been missing?

What the (UK) government doesn’t want you to know?? 

Then come on down to ReBoot!

We got:

Magnificent bastards with sexy voices!

(Tony Jay at his best)

Kickass women who could probably crush your head with their thighs and you’d enjoy it!

Innuendos in a kid's show!

💗 This adorable cinnamon roll!! 💗

Insane third season glow-ups!

YOUR NEW GOD

These guys!

(Gay roller-skating binome is my boi. I named him Jerry)

Nonstop cultural refs (You'll never find them all. Never.)

(There are literally videos dedicated to trying)

So many computer puns!

Body Horror!

Existential Crisis!

HAVE I MENTIONED YOUR NEW GOD?

This is it, folks! The real thing, the gem hidden in the moose-filled forests of Canadia!🌲🌲🌲

Take a trip inside a mid-90’s computer!

See the World Wide Web! (omg):

Witness the original purple Gamecubes that randomly fall from the sky when the owner of the computer (OUR GOOD LORD THE USER) wants to play a game. If it lands on people and they lose, they dissolve into mindless energy leeches, fated to tormented by their former bretheren for all of eternity.

Just like in real life! 🙃

So watch the eps! They on YouTube!

I think they're on Pluto, Hulu, Sling, and Tubi too! Also DVDs for people who have the patience to wait for them!

WATCH! BELIEVE! SUFFER THE SOUL-CRUSHING RAGE OF THE SEASON 4 CLIFF-HANGER!* (come on, its fun!)*

HYPE THE DOC!

The more people hype, the better the chances of actually getting it finished.

NOW SHARE THIS WITH EVERYONE!

And now I will leave you with this screenshot from the ep "Painted Windows", where dicks can clearly be seen drawn upon the wall behind the fleeing anthropomorphized television.

(PS: If you heard the clown pic at the top of the page in your head, you're welcome)

IMPORTANT UPDATE

This message is now approved by Gavin Blair! He's an awesome guy. Show him some love on TWITTER (fuck you musk) at @TheRealMrSweary Also, if you want to share this with non-tumblr friends, here is my attempt at a webpage version:

theseventhstarprojects.com/REBOOT.html

[mazarinememories]

About the Blog & the Author Behind It

The Blog:

This blog's primary focuses include: Star Trek (The Original Series and TOS films), the Spirk ship (Kirk/Spock), other variations of ships of the triumvirate (Spones, McKirk, and McSpirk), and anything regarding Leonard Nimoy, the actor who portrayed Spock in Star Trek: TOS.

The blog was created to showcase the blog author's creations and contributions to the Star Trek fandom (coming soon, I promise). It's also to record other important contributions to the fandom; such as artwork, fanfiction, music, zines, memes, edits, behind-the-scenes facts and photos, as well as TV show and movie screen caps and scenes.

The blog was first created on November 20, 2023, but not revamped until July 16, 2024 for the Star Trek fandom.

IMPORTANT NOTE: This blog occasionally features text and images that are NSFW, so minors be warned (you can still interact with me, but just be wary of any adult-themed content you might see on my blog). It's also not spoiler-free -- proceed with caution!

Reason for the URL:

Mazarine: being one of the names of the author of the blog, meaning "deep blue color".

Memories: the author has always had a fascination with psychology and memories. This is also a nod to the many decades of hard work, passion, and dedication from many of the cast, writers, filming crew, and fans who kept this series alive; the legacy of multiple forms of art left behind; and the inspiration of many people to pursue STEM careers and further the advancement of human society.

The words put together: the memories of the blog's author that give them a reason to live, to be strong, to be logical, to never give up despite the hardships of life, and to leave the world a better place than when they first entered it. The URL also has a nostalgic feel to it, as the series is a source of nostalgia for some.

The title:

Ad Astra Per Aspera is Latin for "through hardship to the stars". Not only is it a personal favorite motto of the blog's author, it's also a most fitting quote for Star Trek's philosophy.

Tag system:

#about mazarineasc: Anything about the author. ('About' on site.)

#mazzy's logs: The author thinking aloud in the form of a Tumblr post. ('Logs' on site.)

#mazzy's asks: Any asks sent to this blog or any asks the author sends to other blogs. ('Interactions' on site.)

#mazzy's oeuvre: Original work by Mazarine, including: fanart, fics, vids/edits, audio, etc. ('Oeuvre' on site.)

#mazzy's posts: Original posts by Mazarine. ('OG Posts' on site.)

And the author makes their entrance...

My name is Mazarine A.S.C. (Mazarine Alcine Severen-Cress). I also go by Mazz, Mazzy, Mazzy Star (like the band), and Masc. (Someone once called me 'Mezzanine' and I accept that too, I like Massive Attack.) I'm a fic writer as well as a fledgling vidder and archivist. I'm also an active participator of KiScon as well as their Discord server as of July 2024.

I'm 22 years old, genderfluid/nonbinary, and a certified lover of women and enbies. My preferred pronouns are they/them/theirs.

About my name: I chose this moniker to identify myself because I wanted a unique, debonair, gender-neutral name that had the same vibes as Yves Saint Laurent or Christian Dior (not that I shop those brands but it's to give you a good picture of what I was trying to go for).

The meanings of each name are as follows:

Mazarine: Deep blue color. Feminine and French origin. The hex code for the mazarine color is 273c76.

Alcine: Strong-willed. Gender-neutral and Greek origin. (I found it when trying to look for 'witchy' names.)

Severen: Stern, severe, austere. Masculine and Latin origin.

Cress: From atop of the hill. Gender-neutral and French origin.

I like to think that when the names are put together, it means: "The stern witch from atop the deep blue hill."

My profile picture is a cropped image of one of the pictures displayed in the New York Times article regarding the death of Leonard Nimoy. (Note: the article is paywalled.)

About Mazarine the Trekkie

How Mazarine Got Into Star Trek:

I was first introduced to Star Trek like many other people have been: their relative putting on a few episodes of The Original Series or The Next Generation on TV during childhood and watching in awe as the characters solved problems in a futuristic time on a weird and wonky planet and learning a lot about themselves along the way.

I didn't truly pursue an interest in Star Trek until 2020, however. But months before I started watching the series, I stumbled upon an interesting fanvid... that's right: "Closer". Because I had no clue what exactly it all meant ("What if they never returned to Vulcan in time?" and all the spicy clips of two men going at it), I was very confused, but fascinated! I was already quite interested in mlm and yaoi content and had harbored such interests for years before encountering that video. I didn't know at all that Kirk and Spock were shipped, let alone of how much of a legacy and impact it had left.

It wasn't until the night of September 1, 2020 (I theorize that's the exact date), that I started watching TOS. I'm someone who prefers to watch in release order because I believe that's the best way to understand a franchise. This was back when Netflix carried all of the Star Trek shows and movies. It was in the midst of the pandemic and I was starting college. I had plenty of time on my hands apart from online schooling and freelance work, so why not start watching shows and movies I had been meaning to try? I decided to start with Star Trek. I was in my living room and I found The Original Series, and selected the very first episode: "The Cage". I found it cerebral, but interesting; I kept watching despite how cheesy the 60s production value was.

Never in my life had I seen a single show from the 60s at that time, except for The Twilight Zone. The production style was completely new to me: it was colorful, the sounds were softer than today's TV shows, and it had so much more dialogue. It was engaging even for my bad attention span. The writing of the characters was so intricate and life-like, it was no wonder the show caused such a mania and cult following.

I mostly used it as background noise whenever I did work, chores, or creating art. I was still able to pick up what was going on thanks to the frequency of the show's dialogue. In time, Spock and his suave ways began to grow on me. I noticed the way Kirk and Spock interacted with each other and began taking a liking to their friendship. Eventually, I began shipping them a little bit.

One night, I was doing some scrapbooking and I had Star Trek on. Dr. McCoy was voicing his concerns about Spock to Captain Kirk and Nurse Chapel was running out of Spock's room while he was yelling at her. The Vulcan stormed out, and his face looked so angry. I snapped my head up from my journal and my eyes were instantly glued to the screen. Now this, I HAD to watch.

My art abandoned, I watched with great interest as Spock reluctantly explained to his commanding officer that he needed to take an early leave because of a fatal condition that came every seven years and could only be satiated via coitus. I gazed with anticipation as T'Pau approached, as T'Pring declared Kal-if-fee, and when Kirk was then made to battle his first officer and best friend to the death. I leered at the screen as they fought, their theatrical movements and bodies rolling in the sand putting me in a trance. Kirk's shirt tears in a place I had no idea I needed to see. I watched in horror as Spock eventually, and inevitably, delivered the final fatal blow.

"Well, what the fuck are they gonna do now? Kirk is dead!" I thought to myself.

T'Pau bade him Live Long and Prosper. Spock forlornly responded, "I shall do neither."

My heart palpitated with an indescribable feeling upon hearing that. In sickbay, Spock was about to relinquish his authority, then I smiled like an idiot as Kirk came up right behind him.

"Don't you think you better check with me first?"

"Captain... Jim!"

And thus, a trekkie is born.

I literally GASPED out loud, hands covering my mouth, eyes going wide as saucers. He smiled. He fucking smiled. And a real smile this time -- not one caused by drugs or one of those slight smiles of amusement! A real, motherfucking smile! Oh, it was beautiful. Thank you so much, Nimoy!

The episode concluded with McCoy's sarcastic remark, and I'm left sitting in my chair giggling like crazy. Spock became my favorite character that night; and Nimoy, my most favorite actor of all time.

A moment later, it hit me like a truck: the "Closer" video! My eyes went wide as I suddenly remembered the video and then I pieced the puzzle together.

"I ship it." I whispered happily to myself.

Then, came the falling down the rabbit hole: the 3 AM fanfiction readings, the hours of perusing Tumblr blogs, hunting down rare Star Trek paraphernalia, cosplaying, discovering KiScon, and eventually joining the KiScon Discord server and making a lot of wonderful friends there, on Twitter, and Tumblr. Now I'm here, writing this About Me page to pin at the top so you can groan at how long this is. Thanks for putting up with me.

The show gave me a sense of optimism during the heavy turmoil of 2020 as it did for those in the 60s. Like many others, it inspired me to get into STEM, so I changed my course of study years after starting college and began teaching myself statistics, programming, and medicine.

I love being a Trekkie. I love that the fandom still persists to this day despite it dwindling, but I thank the internet for keeping it alive and well and warmly welcoming new people with open arms. I enjoyed watching my brother get into Star Trek, and now we can't stop quoting the original films to each other. The impact it has even to this day is timeless and unreplicable. It's art in itself. Gene Roddenberry claimed he was no guru, but it doesn't take anything less than a genius to create what he did.

Favorites:

Character: Spock (TOS version)

Show in the series: The Original Series

Films: The Motion Picture, V: The Final Frontier

Favorite episodes: "Amok Time" (S2E1), "I, Mudd" (S2E8), "The Corbomite Maneuver" (S1E10), "The Menagerie" (S1E12/13), and "Assignment: Earth" (S2, E26)

Ship pairing: Spirk (Kirk x Spock, or K/S, or "The Premise")

Show tropes: the way Kirk looks at Spock, Spock and Bones bickering

Fanfic tropes: old married Spirk, pon farr, domestic life (living together in San Francisco or the flop in "The City on the Edge of Forever")

Quote: "Logic clearly dictates that the needs of the many far outweigh the needs of the few." "Or the one." "You are my superior officer. You are also my friend. I have been and always shall be yours." (The Wrath of Khan)

Scenes of all time: When Spock Realizes Kirk Isn't Dead, Spock Motivates Kirk to Take Command, Spock's Arrival on the Enterprise, This Simple Feeling, It Gives Me Emotional Security

Favorite fanart: I Shall Do Neither by Nox Zaiden

Favorite fanfiction: And Filled With Tomorrows by Android_And_Ale (Pairing: Kirk/Spock, Rated: E, Words: 5,886, Published: March 22, 2024)

About Mazarine Themselves:

Interests:

Star Trek: TOS

Wong Kar Wai films

Portishead (90s band formed in England)

60s gogo dancers

Geisha and maiko (Japanese culture)

Psychology and mental health

Art history

LGBTQIA+ history

Writing (poetry, plays, and fanfics)

Documentaries/docuseries of literally anything

Favorite Things:

Colors: mazarine blue, sky blue, indigo, lavender, mauve, jade green, seafoam green, ivory, black, and vermillion

Singers/Bands: Portishead, Fleetwoood Mac, Björk, Massive Attack, Mazzy Star, Röyksopp, Daft Punk, The Flaming Lips, David Bowie, Garbage, Nirvana, The xx

Song: "Glory Box" (Portishead, 1994)

Music Genres: house, trip-hop, electronica, jazz, classic rock, industrial, k-pop, alternative/indie, lofi, vaporwave, 60s garage rock, and anything 70s, 80s, and 90s.

Actors: Leonard Nimoy, Michelle Reis, Winona Ryder, Angelina Jolie, Lauren Bacall

Authors: Franz Kafka, Sylvia Plath, Margaret Atwood, V.E. Schwab, Oscar Wilde, Edgar Allen Poe

Films: Fallen Angels (Wong Kar Wai, 1995), Frances Ha (Noah Baumbach, 2013), 2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968), American Graffiti (George Lucas, 1973), World of Tomorrow (Don Hertzfeldt, 2015), Deathwatch (Vic Morrow, 1965)

TV Shows: Star Trek (TOS), Arrested Development, Parks and Rec, Nathan For You, Community, Better Call Saul, The Sopranos, Squid Game, The Good Place

Directors: Don Hertzfeldt, Wong Kar Wai

Art: Ballet Rehearsal on Stage (Edgar Degas, 1874), The Brooch. Eva Mudocci (Edvard Munch, 1903), Fireflies on the Water (Yayoi Kusama, 2002), Composition with Red, Blue, and Yellow (Piet Mondrian, 1930)

Interesting Facts About Me:

My astrological signs are Aries Sun, Pisces Moon, and Taurus Ascendant.

I'm an INTJ-T on the MBTI scale. (I know the history of it, but I still found it interesting.)

My ancestral research has linked me to Irish and Scottish druids, as well as Nordic vikings. It's quite funny, because their blood now resides in an anxious shut-in obsessed with a fictional show.

My hobbies include writing, poetry, journaling (regular journaling and bullet journaling), listening to music, learning languages (currently Japanese, Mandarin, and Arabic), collecting CDs, reading fanfiction, doodling, and people-watching.

My ultimate goals in life: to become a psychiatrist, a published author, a playwright; to live in Massachusetts, travel the world, and see every Star Trek show and film.

I'm older Gen Z, born in 2002.

I have maladaptive daydreaming disorder (MDD).

I own a first edition copy of Killing Time by Della Van Hise and a signed copy of Leonard Nimoy's autobiography I Am Spock.

My Socials:

Linktree

Discord: mazarinememories (Please, feel free to friend me there! I love making new Trekkie friends and just any new friends in general. I think I'm pretty cool.)

Email (for artistic inquiries): mazarine.asc @ gmail.com

By all means, friends: be well to each other. Live long, and prosper.

Ad astra per aspera.

[just-otter-thoughts]

Hello

Hi! Welcome to my blog.

My name is Lex, but you can also call me Mason, Opeth, Vladislav (Vlad for short), Aragorn, Ezra, Thall and Paddy. I'm a certified otter and wish I had the confidence to post thirst traps like all these other otters on Tumblr. This blog is just posts that I think are cool and original funnyposts. I may reblog fanart and furry art sometimes.

I really fucking like music, especially progressive metalcore and progressive death metal (and a touch of djent). My favorite bands are Jinjer, Periphery, Opeth, Meshuggah and A Sense of Gravity. I also like pop (Billie Eilish, Melanie Martinez, Britney Spears) and EDM (Crystal Castles, Alice Glass). I like screaming a lot (the metal kind). Oh, and there's some artists I really like that I don't know how to categorize (Kim Dracula, Jazmin Bean). I'd like to be in a band at some point doing vocals.

I really fucking like Half-Life. Like really. If you want me to I can narrate the entire story from Half-Life 1 all the way over to Half-Life 2 Episode 2. I also am a huge fan of Portal and speedrun Portal 1. Under the cut is my latest Portal Inbounds run (257th place as of writing this).

I write fanfic sometimes, you can find that stuff under #writing and #fanfiction. Sometimes there'll be a poem and original fiction here and there.

Under the cut is my tagging system and some alt codes for myself (though you can use them as well). This post will have all the tags because Tumblr's search feature is dookie.

All the tags that use "Mason" as a first name are older, the ones that use "Lex" are newer. I'm tagging both because changing all the posts with the old tag would be a hassle.

#mason speaks his mind & #lex speaks his mind — Original posts.

#mason does vocals — Currently don't use this tag much, I used to post singing clips and what I thought were safe fry screams. Please don't listen to the screams. Please.

#mason takes meds — Inactive tag that I once used to report on how my psych meds were affecting me.

#lex shows himself — Pictures of me.

#lyric posting — Sometimes I just feel like posting lyrics and sometimes I like to go back and see those posts.

#important — Legal things and things to look at when feeling down.

I have a dreamcore/liminalcore sideblog which is @abaddon-of-secrets. I don't use it a lot at the moment but there's still stuff there. I also have a ventblog but I don't want anyone seeing that shit.

Hex codes for special characters:

U+2003 ->  [EM SPACE]

U+2013 -> – [EN DASH]

U+2014 -> — [EM DASH]

U+01F7 → Ƿ Uppercase Wynn

U+01BF → ƿ Lowercase Wynn

U+201A -> ‚ [SINGLE LOW-9 QUOTATION MARK] (comma for tags)

U+2122 -> ™ [TRADEMARK SYMBOL]

U+2026 -> … [HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS]

Post that leads to alternate dashboards

Portal Inbounds run (no video only demos)

Portal Inbounds run with video (2min slower than my current PB)

[thewhitneyhoustonblog]

November 17 marked the 25th anniversary of the release of Whitney’s fourth studio album, My Love Is Your Love. Released at the tail-end of 1998, the album was almost a greatest-hits compilation but turned into a full length studio album due to Whitney’s desire to reach out to the then-new jacks of R&B.

In between the release of 1990’s I’m Your Baby Tonight and this album, Houston had ventured into a hugely successful film career with three starring roles in the hit films The Bodyguard, Waiting to Exhale and The Preacher’s Wife, as well as heavily contributing to its soundtracks. Expect for Waiting to Exhale, Houston sold nearly 60 million copies worldwide combined with the soundtracks that were credited to her with many of the singles she released going on to be some of her most enduring classics, including “I Will Always Love You”, “I Have Nothing” and “Exhale (Shoop Shoop)”.

Serving as executive album producer for the fifth time in her career, Whitney chose Missy Elliott, Soulshock and Karlin, Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean and Rodney Jerkins for her new era in the post-One in a Million era of hip-hop influenced R&B music, as well as familiar names such as Babyface and David Foster. The album took just six weeks to complete, the shortest recording tenure of any Houston project to date.

The first single for the album was the inspirational theme of the animated DreamWorks film, The Prince of Egypt, “When You Believe”, a star-studded duet with fellow powerhouse pop-soul diva Mariah Carey. Though its peak position at number 15 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1999 was lower than expected for such a superstar pairing at the time, the duet became a huge global hit reaching number one in Hungary and hitting top ten in more than 17 other countries and would help the song win an Academy Award at the 1999 ceremony for Best Original Song, going on to be one of the most significant duets in history. It’s sold around three million copies worldwide and is certified platinum in the United States.

But Houston fans and critics alike would be taken aback by the album’s second single, “Heartbreak Hotel”, which featured Houston with younger Houston-inspired R&B acolytes Faith Evans and Kelly Price. The downtempo soul number showcased an edgier and daring Houston who is backed up by her “younger sisters”. In a strategy that would help the album’s stable chart success, Arista recruited dance producer Hex Hector to create a house remix for the song while Kevin Bray directed the music video, which was then played in heavy rotation on MTV, BET and VH1. The result? A number one R&B, number two pop, number one dance smash on Billboard. The single, later nominated for the Best R&B Vocal Performance by a Duo or Group, has sold around 1.7 million copies alone in the United States and is certified platinum.

The third single, an even more defiant number, the Jerkins-produced “It’s Not Right but It’s Okay” became yet another signature tune for Whitney. Again, Arista issued two remixes: one for the pop and dance crowds (the now legendary Thunderpuss remix) and another for the R&B crowd (Jerkins’ own RJ Smooth Mix) followed by another cutting edge video from Bray which showed a leather gown-sporting Whitney with a black bob hairdo and a choker addressing her cheating lover as if holding a meeting. Another heavily rotated video, it helped the song reach number four pop, number seven R&B and number one dance and was yet another international hit reaching number one in Spain and the UK OCC R&B charts and number three on the main UK OCC chart. It’s now a platinum certified Grammy winning classic, giving Houston her sixth Grammy and first in the R&B category after six nominations.

The fourth single, the Wyclef-produced title track, resonated with music listeners all over the world reaching number four pop and number two R&B with another remix, by Jonathan Peters, reaching number one on the Dance Club Play chart. Overseas, it reached the top ten in 15 European countries and giving Whitney her fourth number one single on the European Hot 100 chart, going on to sell over three million copies worldwide and would also be certified platinum in the United States.

The final single, “I Learned from the Best”, reached number 27 on the Billboard Hot 100 and number one on the Dance Club Play chart in early 2000.

This led to the album, which debuted at number 13 on the Billboard 200 for sales of 123,000 copies in the first week, to stay on the Billboard 200 for 76 consecutive weeks during its initial tenure from December 5, 1998 to May 20, 2000. Following Whitney’s untimely passing in 2012, the album reentered the Billboard 200 for 11 more weeks bringing total weeks to 88. The album would be even more successful in Europe reaching number one on the European Albums chart for six weeks starting in August 1999. The album would go on to sell around 15 million copies worldwide, including five million units alone in the United States. It’s currently certified 4x platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America for shipments of four million albums.

The album brought Houston back to the top of the pop charts and cemented her place in history as one of the most legendary artists in music history.

[plusmetals]

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[hex-fox]

There’s a guy at work I think is really cute but I’m too scared to talk to him…..

[mukeshmus]

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[pparkerized]

So it's been a week since the WandaVision finale and I couldn't be bothered making a post then but I'm doing it now apparently.

God fuck that was one hell of a finale. To think that I wasn't gonna watch WandaVision to begin with but then my gf told me about it all and how interesting it was so I decided to snap and watch it. And wow am I thankful I did.

First off, you got Wanda and Vision themselves, I love their dynamic - the only hetero couple I can respect /j

Tbh I was kinda suspicious of Agnes to begin with because like, I know she was playing the role of “nosey neighbor” but damn - also I watched Mat Pat's video on the whole “Agatha Harkness” thing and holy shit he was right. Good on you MatPat, well done 👍

And her fuckin theme bro, I can't get it out of my head. Like I know Agatha's like a certified evil milf n all but... I'm sorry, I'm just so gay, she's just — fuck.

Also Thor girl my beloved 🥰

She's gone :(

When are we going to see Darcy again?????????????

Anyways anyways back the thing I was doing, the whole point of this post. The finale itself was spectacular, the confrontation between hex!Vis and White Vis was just *chefs kiss* amazing, emotional, holy shit I was just at a loss for words. And Wanda fighting Agatha? Y e s.

Also

I'm just,,,

I,,,

Her—

ANYWAYS - getting off track here, Wanda's hot new costume aside I'm talking about the few open parts of the ending. Of course you had Wanda giving up her not-so-perfect little world to save the people of Westview after she realized what she was doing was entirely wrong and slowly closing the hex in so that it disappeared for good. In her final moments saying goodbye to her son's and husband who she was forced to watch leave her again. And I thought that was gonna be it, that was the end, Wanda finally learns that it wasn't a healthy way to cope and moves on, gets therapy (please) and tries to live again and cope in a more healthier way.

But of course, Wanda's completely broken, though she surrendered her world, she still wants it back...

She's looking through the book, desperately searching for a chance to get her family back. Still torn by grief as we can see, expanding her newfound witch abilities beyond what she knows, which is definitely not a good thing.

And this. Possibly Wanda searching through different realities to find her family again? Good opening for Doctor Strange and the multiverse of madness. It's a pretty likely and well known theory that in her desperation and grief Wanda tears open their universe, searching through multiple alternate realities for one where she can live in peace with her family, where they're still alive that is. And it's likely Doctor Strange, noticing this will try to stop her.

And it makes sense too. Since from what we've heard by rumors (idk if it's actually been confirmed yet so I'm just saying rumors) that the next Spider-Man movie will involve Andrew Garfield and Tobey Maguire, aka - a possible Spider-Verse movie. With either Tom Holland accidentally going through different realities and finding different Spider-Men along the way as he searches for a way out, a way back to his universe. Hence the name “No Way Home”

So Wanda's reality breaking abilities definitely seems like it's going to set off the next phase of the MCU and introducing the multiverse too. And it that is the case, hopefully Doctor Strange can stop her before she does too much damage.

But this, this was such a good way to set off the new plot for the next phase of the entire MCU. And I'm invested, I can't wait for all this to come into play, I'm legit so excited aaaaa

TLDR: WANDAVISION IS A CINEMATIC MASTERPIECE ALSO WANDA IS VERY VERY HOT AND I LOVE HER SO MUCH

[i-really-should-change-my-url]

Methlin as How Much They Want Me to Stop Making Methlin Posts

Andro: 50%, It depends on the day’s mood

Change: 0%, She loves them and thinks I am a certified genius (and she’s right)

Donts: 1%, Happy to be included, and they’ll be danged if they don't beat Ferret at something

Duckie: 16%, She’s rolling her eyes at each one but also grinning

Ferret: 2%, Because she supports me in life, but the frequency is getting tiresome

Imy: 98%, But secretly 0%

Jax: 37%, Can’t really be arsed to get annoyed at them

Lemon: 0%, But secretly 98%

SC: 1000000%, Actively casting hexes on my laptop

Tilt: 40%, She likes them, but the cinnamon roll running joke is counteractive to her desired reputation

[trumanhqs]

❛   ━━  IT’S  MEME  THURSDAY  !  ⧽ check the notes to see who is participating & send out a bunch to everyone. that being said , be patient when waiting for memes to arrive to your inbox. you’re getting some , we promise !  + you do not need to be doing the meme yourself to send stuff out to other muns. in fact , we’d love it if you did just that.

remember , you only need to reblog this post TODAY ( thursday ) in order to participate. however , you may answer or send out memes anytime throughout the week. * don’t reblog or like this post if you’re not apart of trumanhqs.

usually there’ll be multiple memes every thursday , but we just had 2 memes on monday to make up for last week , so it’ll just be this one.

LEGACIES  S1E9  SENTENCE  STARTERS  ! ◈

“First time for everything.”

“How long do you think it’ll be before the next monster shows up?”

“Isn’t it safer if only one of us knows where it is?”

“We should probably warn them before a cyclops crashes in.”

“It usually best to start with some form of the truth.”

“What about those times the truth is the one thing you can’t say?”

“Are you sure you want to keep all of this from him?”

“I understand you wanting to protect him, but he’s been wondering about his mother his whole life.”

“He finally meets her and then she dies.”

“If I can keep him from knowing what that feels like, then it’s worth it.”

“The trick is to give everyone the right amount of information without giving away too much.”

“This is our chance to do things differently, more responsibly.”

“Rest assured, we’re taking every precaution.”

“Once we know what we’re dealing with and the problem is contained, we’ll reassess.”

“I can’t exactly tell them we’re cancelling exams because of monsters.”

“She’s probably suiting up in her battle armor.”

“Where I go, danger follows.”

“Her being distant today has got to have something to do with us waking up in a field with amnesia yesterday, right?”

“Think about the good things in your life instead of getting caught up in the bad for once.”

“I’m gonna grab my bags and hit the library.”

“You’re very cute when you sleep.”

“Every culture on earth has legends about creatures that only appear in dreams.”

“Does that mean she can, like, control what we see in our dreams?”

“We’re safe, so long as we stay awake.”

“I barely slept. A lot on my mind.”

“Let’s focus on one problem at a time, okay?”

“I can be research assistance, I’m CPR certified, and I know a little tai chi.”

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but the best way that you can help is by leaving.”

“Just because vampires have been like this for the last century doesn’t mean we have to stay that way.”

“Dracula, as a novel, has only retained relevance in modern times because of our patriarchal culture’s obsession with the idea of a privileged, powerful man who does absolutely what he wants with absolute impunity.”

“I suggest you produce answers, not excuses.”

“I’m gonna get sued. Or hexed, at the very least.”

“You don’t have to be so hard on yourself.”

“At my last school, the gym teacher was dealing coke under the bleachers.”

“Yeah, that only makes me feel marginally better.”

“When you research consists of fairytales and urban legends, sometimes the stories get twisted.”

“I worked so hard to get here.”

“You two are taking better care of me than anyone in my life ever has.”

“I had to stab myself to get your attention.”

“Sometimes the best thing for [name] is to just let her be [name].”

“She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

“I could use a sparring partner.”

“If I don’t punch someone, I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“I’m really sorry about all the things that happened to you in your life that made you so good at brawling, but I really needed that just now.”

“Where we’re from, there’s always another shoe to drop. Sometimes it’s an actual shoe, or a belt, but you get the point.”

“It couldn’t hurt to be a little more honest about it.”

“I’m being as honest as I can be.”

“Somewhere still in that is a lie.”

“You’ve never lied to protect someone?”

“I’ve decided to take you up on your offer and get the hell out with every other sane person here.”

“Why would one monster disguise itself as another monster?”

“[Name], kiss him for me.”

“How the hell are we supposed to kill a dream demon?”

“Y’all are gonna get yourselves killed.”

“Like I said earlier, it’s my job to take care of all of you, and that’s exactly what I’m doing right now.”

“You’re doing that thing you do.”

“You’re fallible, you’re human, you can be killed.”

“I’ve been kicking supernatural ass longer than you’ve been alive.”

“If this doesn’t work out, you’re gonna be really upset with me.”

“You don’t get to ignore me all day, then make decisions for me.”

“You’re gonna be inside a nightmare.”

“You’re the one that’s actually gonna save the day. Which is so sexy, by the way.”

“I guess I already lived through my nightmare.”

“All day it feels like I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop with you.”

“I knew that he wouldn’t want to be a part of something like that.”

“What I said earlier about lying, I was being a hypocrite.”

“Because when someone is as important as [name] is to me, I’ll do what’s best for them. Even if it means having to lie.”

“If you need to keep secrets because you’re burdened with all the responsibilities no one else can handle, alright then, keep your secrets.”

“It’s my job to bust my ass until you see me as someone to confide in.”

“I’m not gonna be afraid of losing you anymore.”

“I hope you weren’t planning on going to sleep anytime soon.”

“You drove halfway across the country in three days, cut yourself some slack.”

source: memeusup

[wub-fur-radio]

Instrumental Asylum 🎻 (More Lost & Found Post-Rock)

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language And next year’s words await another voice.” – T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding

Ninety minutes of certifiable wordless musical madness of the post-rock variety, featuring Mogwai, Do Make Say Think, El Ten Eleven, Don Caballero, Friends of Dean Martinez, Ratatat, the Dirty Three, the Fucking Champs, and a half dozen more cool bands that play instruments but mostly do not sing.

Apologies to Manfred Mann and the institutionalized people of the world.

Cover: The Iowa Asylum for Feebleminded Children, 1919. Front: Orchestra · Rear: Administration Building (No longer standing) Photos courtesy of Glenwood Public Library

Listen on: Mixcloud | YouTube | Spotify | Apple Music (or scroll down to use one of the embedded players below)

Running Time: 1 hour, 30 minutes, 18 seconds

Tracklist

Intro (0:59) — Ratatat | Brooklyn, NY | 2015

I Like Van Halen Because My Sister Says They Are Cool (3:55) — El Ten Eleven | Los Angeles, CA | 2008

You Drink a Lot of Coffee for a Teenager (2:37) — Don Caballero | Pittsburgh, PA | 2000

San Pedro (3:23) — Mogwai | Glasgow, UK | 2011

Furnace Skies (4:39) — Dirty Three | Melbourne, Australia | 2012

Heart of Darkness (2:46) — Friends of Dean Martinez | Tucson, AZ / Los Angeles, CA | 2005

Disintegration Anxiety (4:11) — Explosions In The Sky | Austin, TX | 2016

White Light of (6:56) — Do Make Say Think | Toronto, ON | 2002

Rumble from the Void (0:46) — The Budos Band | New York, NY | 2019

Valley of the Damned (4:22) — The Budos Band | New York, NY | 2019

Kreuzberg (3:44) — Iced Gems | Nottingham, UK | 2018

Thor Is Like Immortal (5:49) — The Fucking Champs | San Francisco, CA | 2000

Loud Pipes (3:44) — Ratatat | Brooklyn, NY | 2006

First Hits (3:26) — Don Caballero | Pittsburgh, PA | 1999

So Well Remembered (3:08) — Friends of Dean Martinez | Tucson, AZ / Los Angeles, CA | 2004

How We Conquered the Western World on Horseback (3:48) — Saxon Shore | Philadelphia, PA | 2005

My Only Swerving (5:11) — El Ten Eleven | Los Angeles, CA | 2005

Remurdered (6:23) — Mogwai | Glasgow, UK | 2014

Schizophrenic Symphonic Mental Asylum Orchestra Band Rehearsal Party Madness (6:07) — Y. Y. | Urayasu, Japan | 2017

The Moon Is Down (9:59) — Explosions In The Sky | Austin, TX | 2001

Hexed All (4:27) — Russian Circles | Chicago, IL | 2009

Tracklist & times are as heard in the (original & canonical) Mixcloud version. The YouTube, Spotify & Apple Music versions substitute “Backseat Blackout” (4:20) by the Mercury Program [2009] for the Iced Gems song and “The Zither Player” (5:02) by The Dirty Three [2005] for the Y.Y. song

🎻 🎺 🎸 🎷 🎻 🎺 🎸 🎷 🎻 🎺 🎸 🎷 🎻 🎺 🎸 🎷

Embedded Mixcloud Player

Embedded 8tracks Player

Embedded YouTube Player

Embedded Spotify Player

Embedded Apple Music Player

[winetae]

⇁ as the cauldron bubbles (m)

witch!au + aphrodisiac (m) 

⚬ pairing⇁Namjoon x Reader

⚬ genre⇁smut, fluff? || witch!au, enemies to lovers

⚬ warnings⇁ dubious consent at the end bc potion, sexy times in a classroom, cumplay, dirty talk ^^

⚬ word count⇁10.2k

what makes for a potent potion? step one. in one room, gather two people who seemingly dislike each other  step two. stir in a pinch of snark and four ladles of sexual tension step three. wait until everything simmers to a boil

✘ spoopy masterlist

a/n;  behold !! the most basic of plots ! ty amy for reading this over & telling me to post it;; ilux100

.

.

.

“Kim Namjoon, you can pair up with," there's a pause while the professor sweeps the room with his beady gaze.  "_____."

The sound of your name rouses you from your slumber, "Huh?"

Eyes glassy, you slowly blink away the spots of white light that speckle your vision. Still slightly disoriented, it takes a few drawn out seconds for the world around you to come into focus.

The first thing that catches your attention is how cold you are.  

The chilling temperature makes it easy to mistake the early weeks of autumn for the dead of winter—with every inhale, cold air rushes into your lungs and drives off any remnants of your drowsiness. Your hands are painted an angry looking red, like you've just dunked them repeatedly into ice cold water, and each joint is stiff, refusing to cooperate when you will them to move. Any attempts to magically dispel the numbness in your limbs are useless; you're not capable of wrapping your frozen digits around your fountain pen, let alone your wand. Left with no other choice but to cross your arms and shove your hands under your armpits, you try to warm yourself up in the most primitive way you know.

It's only then that you notice the room you find yourself in is dank and dark, illuminated by dozens of candles that are bewitched to remain suspended in mid-air. Even the inanimate objects aren't immune to the coldness that seeps through the thick stone walls, you remark internally, watching as the tiny flames flicker wildly, seemingly perturbed by an invisible gust of wind.

The classroom could really benefit from some redecorating, you think not for the first time, eyeing the glass containers that line the walls with distaste. The pickled animals floating about in glass jars and cobweb-covered cupboards look like they’ve been untouched for centuries. The style has long been outdated but your professor is either too lazy or too sentimentally attached to his pickled salamanders to change the decor. You shake your head in disapproval.

All talks of unsettling decorations aside, how are you supposed to concentrate in class when your ears are about to fall off from the biting cold? Something should really be done about the lighting and insulation, at the very least. No one in their right minds would want to work in such drastic working conditions. It’s no wonder you have such a difficult time focusing...

Next to you, Nahyun subtly motions to the side of her mouth, the movement pulling you from your grumbled thoughts. You mirror her actions only to find you've been drooling in your sleep. Mortified, you hurry to wipe the trail of saliva on the back of your sleeve. The material is left with a damp imprint that you hastily hide away by burying your hands in the large pockets of your robe. She shoots you a disapproving look and you can tell by the way her nose upturns that she’s going to reprimand you for dozing off once class is dismissed.

You’re mentally preparing your excuse, trying to piece together a speech that will worm your way out of her scolding, when a shout of outrage drowns out the rest of the class’ whispered conversations—the sudden outcry making you jump on your stool. You twist around in your seat, eyes straining to find the source of the noise. From where you're sitting, you can only make out the side of his face, but it's enough to see the displeasure pulling at the corner of his lips.

“What? Why?” Namjoon makes a distressed sound in the back of his throat.

The professor heaves a long-suffering sigh, suddenly looking like his wrinkles have deepened in the span of ten seconds. He levels Namjoon with a stern expression, arms crossed over his chest. If not for the spectacles that slowly slide down the bridge of his nose, he probably would have successfully intimidated his student with his show of authority.  

“I’d rather work with Jung than her.” The muscles on his face are strained, his expression stiff. 

Ignoring the way your insides tangle at his tone, you hiss out his name, offended. Admittedly, your grades aren’t impressive, but unlike Jung Hoseok, your concoctions have never sent anyone to the hospital.

While it's true your potions have made testers sick on occasion, your mishaps haven't been nearly as bad as Hoseok's. And, okay, while the incident with Minhee had been unfortunate (no one would voluntarily want a set of spiral horns to grow on their head), the damage certainly hadn't been irreversible or life threatening. Wouldn’t one take the temporary horns over whatever poisonous mixture Hoseok is capable of brewing?

As if to spite you, Hoseok chooses that moment to turn around in his seat and shoot you a smirk. He apparently doesn't care if Namjoon insults him in passing, so long as he's not branded as the worst student. Fighting down the overwhelming urge to throw dragon dung fertilizer in his face, you curl your fists at your sides, already thinking of three different hexes to try out on him.

How could Namjoon prefer to work with the certified class clown? When had your reputation taken such a hit? You can’t help but feel like you’ve been defamed and your blood boils at the injustice of it.

"Kim Namjoon." This time there is no mistaking the edge in the professor's voice—his warning razor sharp. "You will work on this month's assignment with _____."

The finality in his tone leaves no room for discussion, and even the dim lighting can't hide the way Namjoon visibly wilts in his seat, reluctantly accepting his fate.

Nodding in satisfaction, the professor resumes his task, pairing up the last few students that have yet to be called. As the rest of the names are droned out, you stew silently in your seat, fixing Namjoon’s figure with incredulity. Through it all, he hasn’t even looked at you once. Something about that irritates you, like a bug bite that demands to be itched.

You wish someone had asked for your opinion, because as far as you’re concerned, you’re equally displeased with this arrangement. For as long as you've known him, Kim Namjoon has always kept to himself. He says he prefers it this way, but you think it's because no one has the patience to deal with his obnoxious personality. Namjoon is smart, yes, but he's so far up his own ass that it makes it hard to be around him for long periods of time. After all, no one wants to befriend people who constantly reiterate how much better they are than you.

Although...maybe this is just from your perspective. Despite all the flaws you find in him, you’re not deaf to the gossip that surrounds him. According to the whispers you’ve overheard, his aloofness only adds to his ‘mysterious charm’.

Your nostrils flare as a snort escapes you. What a load of toad’s spit. There’s no doubt in your mind when you say Namjoon is as charming as one of the pickled bats in the shelved glass jars. How could anyone find him attractive? He never has anything positive to say—unless it’s about himself. His confidence borders on arrogance and you’re not sure why anyone would find that appealing.

The space between your brows creases as you ponder the question, your gaze set on his side profile.

Well, you suppose that from an objective and impartial point of view, his proportions are nice. He has broad shoulders and long legs, plush lips and a set of dimples you would find adorable if they belonged to anyone else but him. There’s also no denying that he’s scary smart. When he answers questions in class, you can’t help but grudgingly respect him.

It’s such a shame that his brusque personality overshadows all of his good traits because he has a lot of things going for him.

It also wouldn’t be a lie to say that your dislike for him stems from the fact that he seems to hate you for no justifiable reason. It’s not like you’re being delusional and making this up—his earlier adamant refusal to work with you proves that he isn’t your biggest fan. In your opinion, Namjoon’s hostility is unwarranted as you’ve never exchanged more than a few words with him. What have you ever done to make him dislike you? Whenever you accidentally make eye contact with him, he never fails to scowl in your direction, like your mere presence offends him.

So it’s no surprise that his behavior rubs you the wrong way. Who is he to pass judgement on you? You know your grades are far from piercing the top tenth percentile, but it's not for lack of trying... It’s upsetting that he would determine your worth based off some grade. You don't know what preconceived notions he has of you, but you're determined to prove to him that you're not a slacker and you're more than willing to pull your own weight.

With this thought in mind, you waste no time shoving your belongings into your bag once the lesson is over, eager to get a word with him before the next period begins. Your notes crinkle as you stuff them away, a bottle of ink almost spilling all over your textbook, but your attention is only focused on Namjoon who has already one foot out the door.

“Where are you going?” Nahyun asks from beside you.

“I’ll see you later after dinner.” It’s not really an answer, but she accepts it with a wave of her hand.

You swing your bag over your shoulder, uncaring whether or not the contents get knocked over in the process. Mumbling excuses while pushing aside the students in front of you, you’re careful not to bump into any fragile classroom equipment on your way out.

Outside, the corridor is already busy with students rushing to their next lesson. There’s a short moment of panic when you can’t spot him among the throng of students. Worried that you’ve missed your chance, your shoulders slump forward in defeat, but the worry soon deflates within you once you spot his figure rounding the corner.

Breaking into a sudden jog, your bag flaps by your side as you run, bumping against the bodies in your way.

“So, when are we starting?” You pant out as you reach him, drawing his attention to your slightly disheveled appearance.

There's an easy smile on your face—one that's intended to look inviting and friendly. The purpose is to show that you’re not holding any grudges against him and that you’re ready to leave everything he’s said in the past. A proverbial olive branch, so to speak.

Regrettably, he doesn't seem to take note of your efforts. He stops and gives you a once over, eyes lingering on your bulging bag—still open, messy contents on display.

“There is no we,” Namjoon hurries to correct, adjusting the bridge of his glasses as he does. Your curious gaze tracks the movement, following the slope of his nose, until finally your eyes meet his coffee brown ones.

From up close, you can almost discern the different shades of brown in his irises. It’s an interesting mix of colors that reminds you of ground coffee beans and the fallen leaves that dust the ground outside. For a short moment, there is silence—Namjoon stills as you examine him, his expression impenetrable—but the moment is broken when the light overhead is reflected on the frame of his glasses, easily distracting you.  

“Why do you wear those?” The filter between your mouth and thoughts doesn’t seem to be functioning correctly, and the question leaves your lips before you have time to stop yourself.

He makes a noncommittal noise in response, either not understanding your question or not bothering to deign it with an answer. You reckon it's probably the latter, but that still doesn't stop you from rephrasing your question for clarification's sake.

“Why do you wear those glasses if they don’t have lenses?”

There's genuine curiosity laced in your tone, your gaze fixed on the odd accessory like it's the most interesting sight you've laid your eyes on all week. And in a way, it is. You’re not sure if that’s a testament to how uneventful your life has been lately, but you choose not to dwell on the facts.

“It’s called fashion.” He spares you a condescending look, “Although, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

You hum, your shoulders raising into a shrug. He’s probably right about that one...  A glance down at your outfit reminds you that you’re wearing mismatched socks again—the gaudy, orange colored sock clashing with your pink, polka-dotted clad foot. At least your feet are warm, you pout, wiggling your toes in your shoes. You think it looks kind of cute! But then again, you have the color vision of a mole, so your opinion probably doesn’t count for much.

Your head snaps back up when you realize he’s walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the corridor, mismatched socks and all.

Rude. Of course he would be the type to walk away mid-conversation.

“You never answered my question!” Huffing, you do your best to catch up, your legs struggling to match his pace.

Damn it, why does he have to have such long legs? You curse silently. One stride of his is probably equivalent to two steps from you, and you’re starting to think he wants you to break into a sweat when he suddenly quickens his gait.

“I don’t know how to be any more explicit,” he says, slowly coming to a halt before rounding on you. You instinctively take a step back, slightly overwhelmed by the way his frame towers over yours. From this distance, he looks more intimidating than before.

“I’ll do the project myself. Don’t even worry about it. Go do..." There's a slight pause as he chews the inside of his cheek, unable to come up with an answer. "Whatever it is you do, and just let me handle things on my own, understood?”

Your forehead wrinkles, confusion written plainly on your face. You're not sure if you understand what he's trying to say so you repeat back the words, your mind whizzing as it tries to process everything.

“Um—what? On your own? But we’re supp—”

“Look.” Impatience mixed with frustration reads on his face, his handsome features twisting into a scowl. “The assignment is worth a third of our entire grade. I can’t let you ruin that. So stay out of it.”

“But—”

“You want to pass this class, don’t you? I’m offering to do all of the work. Free of payment. Without any stipulations.” His sentences are clipped, his curt speech leaving you no openings to respond.

Taking your shocked silence for an answer, he gives you a short nod before bustling away to his next class.

Frozen, your mouth opens to call after him but no sound comes out. You’re sure you look like the fool he thinks you are, though you can’t bring yourself to care. It’s infuriating how little he thinks of you and how easy it is for him to disregard you. Does he believe you to be that incompetent? Or does he just think too highly of himself? Either way, you hate how he never lets you prove yourself  when you deserve at least that much.

The frustration that boils inside of you is what ultimately steels your resolve.  

As much as you want to work on the potion on your own and show him how capable you are, you’re painfully aware of your own limits. You have half a mind to leave him be and deal with the consequences of his arrogance but as he so kindly reminded you, the project is worth a crucial third of your grade. Realistically speaking, your grades can’t afford to suffer from any schemes of revenge. That’s why despite wanting Namjoon to regret his every decision, you convince yourself that it would be better to try to work with him instead of against him. Besides, the potion isn’t designed to be completed alone. You know that no matter how smart Namjoon has proven to be in the past, he won’t be able to finish everything on his own.

However, this proves to be easier said than done.

Getting Namjoon to see things from your perspective would be a thousand times easier if he would just stop ignoring you. He’s not even subtle about it; whenever he sees you approaching him, he turns on his heels and quickens his pace.

How are you supposed to work with him if he runs away at the mere sight of you? You blow a lock of hair away from your face as he once again manages to escape before you reach him. Namjoon’s lean legs are too much to go up against... At this rate, you wonder if you’ll even be able to talk to him before the end of the month is over.

It’s more tedious than expected, but you manage to intercept him in front of the library after lunch. You don’t miss the look that flashes across his features, but you choose not to comment on the displeasure your arrival brings him. It’s not like you've been looking forward to talking to him again, either. Truthfully, you would rather entertain a conversation with a brick wall than have to tolerate his presence.

Talking to him is but a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. Think of your grade, you remind yourself as you swallow down the lump of nerves in your throat. For some reason you can’t make sense of, your heart stutters nervously in your chest. Dismissing the flip-flopping in the pit of your stomach, you attribute the jitters to your dislike for him.

“It’s important,” you stress, grabbing the sleeve of his robe as he tries to retreat. He freezes, his gaze fixed on the firm grip that encloses his arm. The intensity of his stare is unsettling and you’re consequently forced to relent.

Slowly, you unclench your fingers, the slide of the fabric smooth against your skin as you let your hand fall to your side. “Stop avoiding me.”

“I’m not,” he denies too quickly for you to believe him. “What is it? I’m busy.”

You bite down your retort before a snarky remark spills from your lips. No matter how much you want to give him a piece of your mind, the objective of this conversation isn’t to antagonize each other. Trying not to lose sight of your initial goal, you do your best to remain civil despite him making it abundantly clear that you’re just a nuisance to him.

“We need to divide the work we have to do so that we can complete the assignment on time. The more you put this off, the less time we’ll have.”

“I’m doing it on my own so stop worrying about it.” There’s no denying the patronizing tone in his voice but you choose to sidestep it like everything else.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's a group project," you insist, unyeielding. "We're supposed to work together. I know you're smart Namjoon, but there's no possible way you can gather all the ingredients and make the potion on time by yourself."

Last you’ve checked, there are well over forty ingredients that are needed for this and a good dozen of them have to be prepared at least two weeks before the day of brewing. If he chooses to go down the solo route, he’ll be shooting himself in the foot. He’s smart enough to know this, too.

There's a reason you've been paired off in groups of two, after all. Namjoon’s intellectually gifted brain does not come with an extra set of arms. He needs you, even if his pride can’t handle verbally admitting so.

Namjoon's bottom lip juts out as if he means to voice his dissent but he ends up pursing his lips with a resigned expression. You have to bite down your triumphant grin (although you know you haven't done a gone job hiding your expression of satisfaction if the leveled look he aims your way is any indication).

“Don’t make me regret this,” he finally sounds out, acting like he’s the one doing you the world’s biggest favor. You’re tempted to call his bluff but hold yourself back from doing so. “Meet me in the library at eight after dinner.” Namjoon shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking like he would rather be anywhere but here. He adds as an afterthought, “Don’t be late.”

“I won’t!” You chirp out after him, a toothy smile on your face as your heart swells with elation.

As soon as you realize how much his grudging acceptance means to you, you stop in your tracks. Since when do his words hold that much importance? You don’t care about what he thinks in the least. You’re just glad because his agreement to work with you means that you’ve won the battle.

In truth, you’re surprised he hadn’t put up more of a fight. Considering that his stubbornness is second only to his arrogance, he let himself be persuaded with more ease than expected...

“It’s because of my feminine wiles,” you’re quick to inform Nahyun during dinner. “He couldn’t resist me.”

“Mmh, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Are you even listening to me?” A piece of broccoli lands on the table as you spit out your words.

She spares you a disdainful look, dabbing the sides of her mouth with her napkin, “I really wish you wouldn’t talk with your mouth full.”

As an apology, you make a show of gulping down the food stuffed in your mouth. You immediately regret doing so when some vegetable gets stuck in your throat in the process. Next to you, Risa pats your back as you try to cough the burn away.

“Do you even chew your food? How do you even fit all of that in your mouth...” She sneers, unimpressed. “Your cheeks are like fucking pockets or something. Like a chipmunk.”  

“Maybe that’s why Namjoon wanted to work with you,” Risa giggles mischievously, dodging when you try to hit her arm. You accept the glass of water she hands you with a glower. “He wants to see those skills for himself.”

“Stop that.” You elbow her side for emphasis, drawing a hiccuping sound from her lips. “I wouldn’t let Namjoon near me. Not even if we were the last two living beings on Earth.”

Your friend snorts loudly, not convinced by your words at all.

“When she’s not sleeping, she’ll make goo-goo eyes at him during class.” Nahyun’s voice chimes in. 

“I do not!” You protest hotly, betrayed, and proceed to stab a carrot with your fork to vent your frustration. “There’s a difference between plotting his downfall and wanting to give him the suck.”

“Maybe you’re planning on sucking the life out of his balls.” The image her words conjure up makes your face turn beet-red. “Death by ejaculation.”

You’re suddenly flooded with a very graphic image of you on your knees between his legs, your hands resting on his thighs as you look up into his dark brown eyes. It’s wrong, it’s so wrong, yet that hardly puts a stop to your overactive imagination. If anything, your mind goes into a frenzy; each improper scenario begets an even more obscene one—an endless loop of obscenity.

“Your ears are red.” 

Risa raises a knowing eyebrow in your direction, your group of friends erupting into snickers when you hurry to cover them up behind your hair. 

“Leave me alone,” your moan is muffled by the hands that cover your face. 

There’s no use arguing your innocence because you know they’ll just keep on teasing you. You huff in irritation, a pout on your face. The most annoying part of it all is the fact that you’re taking their banter too seriously. 

By now, you’re sure your face is flushed scarlet. You pat your cheeks, feeling the heat radiate off of them as you do. Why are you letting yourself get so worked up over this? Usually, you laugh off these jokes easily but for some reason you can’t pinpoint, the mention of Namjoon’s name has you losing your cool.

You just hope that you’ll be more composed in Namjoon’s presence because the last thing you want is for him to get the wrong idea... His ego would only inflate to immeasurable proportions if he thought that you got easily flustered around him. And that’s just something you won’t allow because contrary to whatever your friends might insinuate, you’re definitely not attracted Namjoon. He just happens to be smart and good looking, which is always a welcome combination but certainly not enough for you to be swayed over to the dark side. 

Thankfully by the time eight o’clock rolls around, you’ve shaken off all indecent thoughts. You march into the library, head held high, determined to show your friends how wrong they are. Weaving through the different rows of bookshelves, you’re careful to duck whenever a heavy volume whizzes past you through thin air whenever they’re summoned. You finally find Namjoon hidden away in the reference section of the library. His body is hunched over a thick tome, his fingers mindlessly flicking through the yellowing pages of text.

Namjoon nods in acknowledgement, pushing a dusty looking manual in your direction, “This one has a list of common ingredients used in ritualistic magic. I bookmarked page 546. You’ll find information on magical herbs used in any healing draught by skimming the chapter.”

He puts you to work at once, and justifiably so; there’s a lot of groundwork to cover before you can start making the potion. This particular assignment requires you to figure out the exact measurements that are needed as well as the time of preparation and fermentation of each ingredient. It’s a combination of theory, math, and in-depth knowledge of astronomy and the effects of the moon on the tides. There are a lot of calculations involved that make use of the lunar calendar and the position of the Jupiter, requiring complex formulas you rarely use. 

It’s hard. And more than once you want to groan out loud and pull at your hair in despair, but the knowledge that Namjoon is here has you swallowing any complaints. You would hate to hear him spit out, ‘I knew working with you was a waste of time,’ so with that in mind, you redouble your efforts.

The pair of you work in silence—the only sounds that can be heard are the scribbling of pen on paper and the sound of pages being flipped when you search for the necessary information. Immersed in your work, you don’t pay any attention to the world outside your self-made bubble. 

From time to time, Namjoon pauses to crack his knuckles, his gaze drifting towards your working form. He takes note of how you chew the cap of your pen when you stop to think, your brows furrowed as you concentrate. Seeing you so committed for once throws him off-guard; he can’t recall you being this focused in class—all you ever do is get into trouble by your professors for sleeping or daydreaming when you shouldn’t be.

It’s nearing midnight when his chair creaks as he gathers to his feet. Rubbing your eyes in fatigue, you watch him put away his textbooks and papers with longing, wishing that you too could pack up your stuff and call it a night. 

“You aren’t leaving?” He glances down at you when he notices you haven’t budged from your seat. “It’s late.”

“Not yet. I have to finish this for tomorrow.” You direct a glare at your worksheet you still need to read over and complete. “I’ll be here for a while.”

To your surprise, he leans down to examine the papers himself, propping one arm on the table and the other one on the back of your chair. 

Namjoon hums while leafing through the stack of papers, “Ah. The magical properties of the Mandragora root and its uses in potions... We went over this in class last month, do you remember? Following Levi’s teachings, the root needs to be dug up on the day of the moon for it to be the most potent. Preferably after the vernal equin—” 

But you can barely hear him over the thrumming of your heart. All you can focus on is the way he crowds your personal space, leaving you no room to breathe. His face is way too close. Try as you might, but it’s damn near impossible to listen to his explanation when his sudden near proximity has your mind reeling. 

He smells of sea salt, ginger lilies, and...something else you can’t quite identify. The bizarre blend of fragrances should have you pulling away, but instead you find yourself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Before you do something ridiculous—like lean in closer to have a proper whiff of him—you turn your head away to stare at the words he’s pointing at on the worksheet. The sentences in front of you all blur together to form an inky block of text and you don’t realize you’re spacing out until the sound of a sigh snaps you out of your reverie.

“You’re not listening.” 

Your gaze flits up to meet his and you have the decency to shrug sheepishly. He taps the worksheet with his finger, redirecting your attention to the material you need to learn before the night is over.

“Can you even recall who Levi is?” Namjoon levels you with an expectant stare and you flounder, your mind momentarily at a blank.

“Um,” your eyes shift to your textbook, hoping that the book could provide the answer. “He was a French occultist.” The response isn’t as detailed or lengthy as you would have hoped to give him, but he nods right away, his lips quirked into a small smile. 

“That’s right. His methods are now obsolete, most of them proven false, but his works on transcendental magic perfectly exemplify the ceremonial magic that was popular in Europe during the nineteenth century.”

Namjoon’s voice drones on, the words failing to sink in. It’s not that you don’t make an effort to be more attentive, but your mind is just too preoccupied with other thoughts for you to concentrate on his impromptu lesson. 

Why hasn’t he pulled back yet? He’s so close that you can practically feel his chest vibrate whenever he speaks and it makes you wonder if he’ll stay perched next to you for much longer. How does he expect you to listen to him when he’s so darn close?

When you risk a glance at his face, your gaze can’t help itself from perusing his features. Your eyes flit from one beauty mark to another, lingering briefly on a faint scar near his eyebrow before trailing down to observe the way the muscles in his jaw work when he talks. 

It takes a second too long for you to realize he’s saying your name, but when you do, you meet his piercing stare with flushed cheeks. Embarrassment colors your face red because you’ve been caught staring. You can’t even play it off, your ogling too blatant to be ignored.

He says your name again, his voice low and so pleasing it makes you want to melt in your seat, and you gulp nervously, ignoring how quickly your heart jumps at the sound. Even as you try to appear collected, you already know it’s a lost battle. Knowing how observant he is, there’s honestly no use hoping he hasn’t noticed how distracted you are.

The air around you suddenly seems heavy, charged with tension. There’s a dryness in your throat that makes you yearn for a glass of water. You wait for him to say something more, but all Namjoon does is stare at you, his face not giving any of his thoughts away. The scrutiny makes you feel bare and exposed, like he’s dissecting your every reaction, and it takes everything in you not to shy away from him.

“Are you...” He trails off, letting his unfinished sentence hang in the air. You find it difficult to look away from him, especially when he’s peering at you so intently.

While you wait for him to continue, his face inches closer to yours. His movements are so slow that you even find yourself wondering if it’s just a product of your imagination. But as more time passes, all traces of doubt are erased. He’s impossibly close now. You just aren’t sure if it’s intentional or not... Either way, the nearness makes your head spin. 

It’s only then that you realize how he’s practically caging you between his arms. You’re so flustered you don’t know what to do with yourself. Pinned to your seat, you have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. There’s definitely no mistaking how much closer he is to you now than before; maybe it’s in all in your head, but you swear you can feel his breath ghost over your skin. 

What is he...?

Blood rushes to your eardrums and you swallow thickly, expectant. In hindsight, you'll ask yourself why you let your eyes close, but in the moment all you do is hope the pounding in your chest isn’t loud enough for him to hear. 

But nothing happens. 

Namjoon makes an awkward coughing sound that has your eyes blinking open in confusion. 

“Er, I’m going to head on to sleep.” You notice at once that he refuses to meet your gaze. “I’ll see you tomorrow, same time.”

You watch him take his leave with a twinge of disappointment in your chest. Shaking your head, you do your best to rationalize your conflicting emotions but the answer you come up with is so preposterous that you dismiss it at once. Honestly, what’s gotten into you? How could you let yourself get this this way? It’s late and you’re just sleep deprived, you convince yourself.

Still, there’s no shaking off the embarrassment you feel whenever you relive the moment before he said his goodbye. Even days later, you’ll catch yourself thinking about it only to bury your head in your arms with a groan. You don’t even want to imagine what Namjoon thinks of you now. 

To distract yourself, you launch yourself in your work with determined focus. After checking over the calculated measurements with Namjoon, you both set out to collect the necessary ingredients for the elixir. In your zeal, you end up gathering a greater quantity than strictly needed. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but when you show the fruits of your labor to Namjoon, all he does is scold you for wasting ingredients instead of acknowledging your efforts.

It doesn’t sadden you. It doesn’t. 

"I guess substituting salamander blood for dragon blood was a bad idea."

"You. Idiot."

"Shut up, okay. I know I fucked up, y'don't have to rub it in." You mull over your limited choices, trying not to get swayed by the panic that rises inside of you. 

In your attempt to salvage the situation, you add a pinch of powdered moonstone into the simmering potion and hope for the best. Namjoon’s hand is too slow to stop you from doing so—your name spilling from his lips in warning a second too late.

Time seemingly slows down.

You watch the dust sprinkle down into the cauldron in a whirl of white, the sight but a crude imitation of winter snow. They fall through the air softly before speckling the mulberry colored substance and dissolving into the mixture.

The reaction is instantaneous; the fire under the cauldron crackles ominously as the contents slosh around, bubbling to a boil and threatening to spill over. You peer down at the mixture, trying to assess how badly you’ve messed up—yet again—when a cloud of smoke puffs into your face without forewarning. You sputter into the potion, feeling the vapor seep into your lungs smoothly like liquid silk.

Namjoon yanks you away from the cauldron by the collar as the lavender colored fumes suddenly veil your vision, making your eyes water from the unexpected sting. You can feel the weight of his glare on the side of your face, but you wisely chose to ignore it, still hacking in an unattractive manner. 

The tang of honey and wildberries is heavy on your tongue, the flavor stuck in the back of your throat like a strong aftertaste that refuses to be washed down. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, the palms of your hand sticky with a thin layer of sweat.  A warm tingling spreads from your mouth to your lungs—the feeling so intense you feel like you’ve just swallowed the strongest shot of single malt whisky. It’s so distracting that you barely register the grumbling beside you.

"Three hours, ____. Three hours of our work now down the drain because someone here made an elementary mistake."

"It's—" The sentence is cut off, silenced by a growl.

"I don't want to hear your excuses!"

"We still have time left," you say feebly, feeling yourself shrink in his presence. You can physically sense the intensity of his glare; your skin prickles under the weight of it.

"Not nearly." Namjoon snaps, his jaw clenched. “Can’t you do anything right?”

He then proceeds to shake his head, laughing to himself like he can’t believe what’s just happened. Your stomach sinks at the sound of his disappointment, your chest constricting all the more because of the look of exasperation he aims your way. 

Tears well up in your eyes as you realize the scope of the damage. So much effort you had put in gone to waste... How are you ever going to be able to rectify your mistake? You need to pass this class if you want to finish your studies and start your apprenticeship. All of your future plans will be pushed back because of your carelessness. 

“I’m sorry,” is all you can say. 

“Are you seriously going to cry?”

You try to deny his accusation but your pathetic sniffle gives you away. Normally you wouldn’t be this emotional, but tonight you’re feeling particularly sensitive. Maybe it’s your time of the month. Hormones or not, there’s no dismissing the heaviness that sits in your chest, restricting your every breath. 

To your horror and embarrassment, two big, fat tears trail down your cheeks and you have to clench your eyes shut to prevent anymore from spilling out. Namjoon is visibly taken aback from the intensity of your reaction and he pauses, unsure of what to do. All his anger seems to melt away, instead replaced with concern.

“Hey,” he says, crossing the space between you with a single stride. “Let’s not cry, okay?”

“I just,” your bottom lip trembles as you hiccup, “I, I ruined everything.”

He hushes your wail, his hand coming up to prevent you from talking any further. You look up at him through watery eyes, confusion twisting your expression. 

“No more of that. I’m so—” He avoids your inquisitive gaze, his palm still pressed your mouth. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. And it’s, it’s not your fault. It’s unfair to place the blame on you when I was in charge of checking over our inventory before starting the brew. I, um, and besides, there’s no point in dwelling on this. It’s now a thing of the past. I’m not mad at you but I will be if you keep shedding tears over something like this.”

Namjoon tries to sound stern but you’ve been spending so much time with him that you can see right through his act. He only lets his hand fall from the bottom half of your face once you nod your assent. The limb hangs awkwardly between the two of you until he shoves it away in his pocket. 

“I am sorry,” you manage to croak out softly when you’ve finally pulled yourself together. “I shouldn’t have been that hasty.”

“I told you it’s in the past now.” He shrugs in an attempt to act cool about it. “We just need to work hard on the rest. I guess all the ingredients you over-stocked on will prove to be useful, after all.”

You slowly let yourself be convinced by his words and redirect your focus on the potion. There’s no use moping about when you could be using that time to finish the assignment. You only have three days left until the full moon appears which is when you have to distill the brew. 

And while, yes, you could have gone without having a repeat of steps 13 through 28, there’s noticeably less tension between you and Namjoon this time around. Namjoon seems more relaxed around you, coming over to monitor your progress from time to time. You’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want you to break into tears once more, but he’s careful not to be curt with you. 

The extra amount of care, no matter how small, has you feeling warm and fuzzy inside. You welcome the attention he gives you with open arms. A small voice in the back of your head whispers something about how you shouldn’t be giving in so easily, but you pay her no heed. 

You’re cutting up bat wings when you feel it—a sudden shiver runs down your spine and has you standing straight up like you’ve just been shocked. Namjoon gives you a curious glance once he notices how you’ve frozen in place, knife still suspended in mid-air.

“You alright there?”

“Mm,” you nod, your confusion evident by the way you furrow your brows. “Just—ah, nothing. There must be a cold draft somewhere.”

Both of you go back to work but there’s a niggling sensation in your lower belly that makes your vision blur at the edges. You don’t realize you’ve minced up your bat wing into unusable smithereens until it’s too late. For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to care. This should have been your first warning but somehow you fail to notice that something isn’t right.

The determination you felt at first slowly dwindles. Your eyes turn glassy and unfocused, your heart rate speeding up without any prompting. There’s a tingling warmth that envelops your body from head to toe, similar to the feeling you get after you drink several glasses of mead. You feel lightheaded all of a sudden, your body too warm for your three layers of clothes.

A clattering noise pierces through the fog in your mind. You turn your attention to Namjoon who is rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. From this distance, you think you can spot sweat beading at his hairline. 

“It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” You don’t expect your voice to come out breathy, almost seductive. 

Namjoon’s head shoots up at the sound, his eyes zoning in on your figure. It’s then that you notice how big his pupils have become; even in the poor lighting, you can see his eyes darkening as the seconds tick by. 

The pools of black betray his growing arousal, and to your dismay, you find that you are equally affected. You’re short of breath, hands clammy with sweat, heart pounding so hard that you’re scared your ribcage won’t be able to contain it. 

Namjoon says your name cautiously, his eyes widening as he does, “You added moonstone into the potion, didn’t you?”

“Y-yeah. Why?” As comprehension dawns on him, you fidget anxiously, trying to decipher what the realization implies. 

You’re afraid that you’ve messed up some way, somehow, again. When he fails to answer right away, you make an impatient sound in the back of your throat, too tired for games. 

“What are the uses of moonstone in potions?” 

“Why can’t you just tell me?” You whine, frustration making its way into your voice. Now really isn’t the time for a tutoring session. 

“They’re used in love potions, primarily. But also in aphrodisiacs. I think the moonstone powder must have reacted to the crushed rose thorns we added earlier.” Sweat drips down his brow as he speaks and you can’t help yourself from wiping it off with the sleeve of your robe. Namjoon gulps, his adam’s apple bobbing up, before continuing, “You only added a pinch so I think whatever fumes we inhaled will be flushed out of our systems pretty quickly.”

“I accidentally made a sex potion?” your mouth drops open as his words settle in. 

“An aphrodisiac,” he corrects automatically. “That’s why, um, you’re turned on right now.”

“I’m not turned on!” 

Namjoon glances down at your chest quickly, like he can’t help himself, and you follow his gaze. A wave of shame crashes over you when you notice your nipples are erect and poking through your clothes. Just how fucking hard are they to be showing through your bra and jumper? You cross your arms self-consciously but the action only draws more attention to them. Your ears burn with embarrassment. 

“It’s okay,” reassures Namjoon. “It’s normal, I know this is just a bodily reaction to a stimulus and that it doesn’t hold any meaning. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Uh.” You know he’s just trying to make you feel at comfortable, but you can’t help but feel bad about it all. Because he’s wrong. You know...that even without having inhaled the fumes, you’ve been entertaining thoughts you really shouldn’t be having about him. For two long weeks, you’ve tried to ignore the filthy images that are planted in your mind, but this damned concoction is bringing them all back to the forefront of your mind until all you can think of is Namjoon’s long fingers and large palms, his long legs, his soft looking lips... Your imagination runs wild with an infinite number of scenarios, each more salacious than the last.

Maybe aphrodisiacs make you lose your rationality because you can’t stop yourself from saying, “What if it does hold meaning?” 

Namjoon is smart enough to catch the implication of your words but he still freezes, tilting his head like he doesn’t quite understand what you’re hinting at. 

“I’ve thought about you before,” you confess in a small voice. Something in your chest leaps as you try to gauge his reaction.

He licks his lips then, and you can’t tell if he’s deep in thought or if this revelation excites him. 

“H...ow?” he finally asks, voice low and hoarse. The sound instantly shoots straight to your core. You want to hear it croon in your ear. You reckon you could listen to him talk all day about nineteenth century ceremonial magic but only if he keeps talking in that specific tone. “Ah, I thought so... Back in the library, that night... But you’re always so cold with me, I thought I had perhaps read the signs wrong...”

His dimples poke out as he laughs in disbelief. “All this time, I thought I had made things awkward between us because I projected my fee—”

You put an end to his rambling with a kiss. 

It’s not as smooth as you imagine it to be in your end; there’s some fumbling around as you try to match your heights. You wobble on the tips of your toes in order to reach him, but he easily leans down to accommodate you. Namjoon’s large hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer to his body. His lips feel softer than you imagined them to be and you feel your body melting into his. When he kisses you back, it’s like a current of electricity zaps through you. The fiery sensation from earlier comes back in full force, your insides knotting with pleasure. 

Every heated kiss has you wanting more. You’re insatiable, your thirst a long way from being quenched. Namjoon seems to understand your needs right away and he nips your bottom lip, his tongue licking into your mouth. 

Your body vibrates, hot all over. A pleased purr makes its way to your lips and Namjoon eagerly swallows up the sound. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” he whispers hotly against your mouth. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? We can stop now.”

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, your fingers clutching onto his clothes, refusing to let him go. It would be the ultimate cruelty to leave you hanging now. “I want you now.”

“Here?” Namjoon chances a glance around the room, wondering if it was worth the risk. 

“On the desk,” you pant, breath cut short. Desire pumps through your veins and you feel high off the feeling. He hurries to comply to your wishes, hoisting you up onto the cleared desk with no visible difficulty. 

The fog thickens, your vision focusing solely on Namjoon and the trail of fire each touch brings. You expect Namjoon to be patient and take his time with you, but he ruins that particular fantasy when he tugs your tights and underwear off in one go. 

He spreads your legs open so he can have a better look. Your gaze never leaves his face, more interested in his reactions. He doesn’t disappoint; you watch him groan to himself, his hand reaching down to briefly palm the front of his slacks. You track the movement, only to bite your lip when the sight arouses you further. The bulge in his pants looks so inviting you instinctively outstretch your hands for a feel, but Namjoon swats your hands away in disapproval. 

Whatever complaint you have dies in your throat as soon as his fingers touch your core. It doesn’t take much on his part for wetness to gather on his digits. 

“This okay?” You nod in response because fuck, yeah.

There’s no drawn out foreplay; he hones in on your sensitive spot right away, intent on drawing out your moans and whimpers. He circles your clitoris with single-minded focus. His hungry stare eyes the way you glisten for him with such intensity, you’re convinced he’s seconds away from devouring you with his gaze alone. The heat of his stare makes you squirm harder against the stroking of his fingers. 

Tiny whimpers escape you before you have time to subdue them. But honestly, who could blame you? Under his skilled ministrations, just how are you supposed to stay silent? 

You’re losing your mind, is your last coherent thought before lust eats away at your insides. All that runs through your mind is a constant loop of Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon. You chant his name repeatedly as if your vocabulary consists of only that one word. 

“So pretty like this,” he awes, panting. “You smell so fucking good, I’ll definitely have a taste of that pussy later.”

Your mind barely registers that there’s going to be a round two, when he sits down in the professor’s chair, and pulls you into his lap.

“Pull my cock out,” he coaxes, his hands reaching to discard your sweater. You shiver when you feel his fingers ghost over your bare skin. “I want you to stuff yourself with my hard cock until you’re full.”

There’s no real thinking on your part; it’s as if he’s saying the words you want to hear. Even through the material of his slacks, his hardness is deliciously thick, and you can’t help but imagine how good the stretch will feel inside of you. Your mouth waters from anticipation. Belly taut with excitement, you pull down his zipper and reach for his erection. 

He’s smooth and hard in your hands. Stroking the head of his cock with a curled fist, you relish in the sounds of his throaty moans—the throbbing in your clit erasing all coherent thoughts from your head, leaving it blissfully blank. Your body immediately reacts to his arousal, the sound, sight and smell too much for you to handle. You rut in his lap, already desperate for friction—the pace is frantic, the movements clumsy. It’s not enough. A hiccuping sound leaves your parted lips as you try to relieve yourself. 

“Go ahead,” Namjoon chuckles, a hand on the small of your back. “Take what’s yours.”

The words have you keening, and you impatiently lift yourself up to your knees so you can line his thickness at your entrance. You’re so wet, fluids trickling down your inner thighs, that the head of his shaft slips, bumping into your clit as it rubs against your flesh. After failing repeatedly to relieve yourself, you whine low in your throat, frustrated. 

Taking pity on you, Namjoon stills your hips with one hand and guides his thick member with the other. You do the rest of the work, the growing need between your thighs almost unbearable at this point. When his erection finally slides in home, you can’t help but clench around his hardness, trying to pull him deeper inside of you.

“Fuck!”  

The stretch makes your head tilt back, your eyes closing. You’ve never felt so satisfied in your life; there’s no describing how good his warm member feels as your walls close in around it, the friction everything you could have hoped for. Fingers gripping the scratchy material of his sweater, you hurry to set a rhythm that suits your needs.  

“Tight,” he rasps, mouthing at your neck, hands busy squeezing your ass. The trail of wet kisses he leaves on your neck set your skin on fire. The feeling so overwhelming, you’re not sure if you want more or not.“So fucking tight, I’m, fuck, nnghh. Oh fuck!”

You clench around him, loving the way he squeezes your ass cheeks harder, his hips thrusting up into yours with abandon. You move your hips with purpose, head tipped back, moan after moan falling from your lips. The incessant noises of pleasure seem to spur him on, Namjoon’s hips raising up to meet the fluid rolls of your hips. 

“Namjoon, you’re so good inside me, feel so good,” you bounce up and down on his lap, unable to stop yourself from moving. Every new thrust makes your sanity weaken a little more. You’re so far gone that your wanton display doesn’t even affect you. 

“Yeah? You love me fucking you, just look at you,” there’s that familiar arrogance back in his tone, but for once, it doesn’t make you want to silence him with a spell. This might be the only time you don’t mind him getting cocky... Namjoon looks so good under you, his hair matted with sweat, that you honestly don’t care. His hard shaft fills you up so nice that any other thoughts are inconsequential. 

The pleasure that simmered beneath the surface of your skin is now all consuming. You feel it bubble to a boil with every thrust inside your soaking center, and you know it’s only a matter of time before the dam breaks. Throat parched, it takes a few tries before you can properly formulate a coherent sentence. 

“I��m c-close,” you warn him, still undulating your hips. 

“Good,” he growls, his eyes darkening even more. They’re like magnets, and you find you can’t look away from his gaze. 

You don’t expect him to rise to his feet and place you on the desk again, one of his large hands cradling your head so it doesn’t bump into the hard surface of the polished wood. You blink up at the ceiling, disoriented. “I’m gonna fill you up and then you can come. Want to rub you to an orgasm with my cum, okay?”

“Mmhm,” you nod quickly, too impatient to really care who comes first or where. 

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he groans, broken. His hands roam the expanse of your bare skin with such care, as if he’s committing each curve and crevice of your body to memory. “Fuck you good like you deserve.” 

He smiles down at you with such sincerity that you don’t doubt his promise for a second. The expression is so unfamiliar on his face, so radically different from his usual cold facade, that your heart misses a beat. Your tense muscles relax as you give your trust to him. 

The sudden forceful thrust makes your eyes blow open in surprise. From this angle, he reaches deeper than before; you feel like each snap of his hips against yours robs you of breath. Each slam of his hips makes your body jostle, the desk shake; and you have to hold on to the edge of the desk to stop your body from sliding off. 

Namjoon leans over you, your body now sandwiched between the hard desk and his body. One of his hands pull down the cups of your bra before he attaches his plump lips to one of your breasts. Wet heat teases the sensitive nipple, electrifying every nerve ending. All throughout, he doesn’t break eye contact, a gleam in his gaze that has your stomach turning. The nips and licks on your sensitive skin make you cry out his name; you’re unsure if you’re asking for mercy or for more. 

The pleasure builds at an alarming rate, and you’re convinced you’re about to cum all over his cock when he suddenly buries himself deep inside you, spurting his sticky fluid all over your walls with a cry of your name. He ruts against you, hands holding your hips in place, while he milks the last of his orgasm for all it’s worth. You feel the warm sensation ooze from within, and you gasp, back arching, wishing for that extra push so you could join him. 

“Got it all inside of you,” he pulls out slowly, careful not to let his cum spill. “Are you still close?”

“Mmm,” you nod, head lolling back, lashes wet from unshed tears. But you can already feel it slipping away from you, and you want to cry from the unfairness of it all.

His fingers are quick to rectify your problem. He plays with the stickiness at your entrance, coating his long digits with his pearly sheen, and uses the fluid as lubricant. It’s messy and slippery, but he drives three fingers inside of you, his eyes observing each shift of your expression caused by every curl and thrust of his fingers.

Your mind is hazy, hips meeting his movements of their own volition. The lewd, obscene noises remind you that his cum is inside of you, mixed in with your own arousal. The knowledge makes your head spin, and your stomach knots as you imagine how fucked out you probably look right now---hair mussed, eyes glassy, skin shiny with sweat and slick.

A plea disguised as a moan rips itself from your throat. Your hands reach out for him, your fingernails digging into his flesh as you call out his name. The flare of pain he feels when you rake your nails across his skin doesn’t deter him from his goal.

“You’re doing so well, so beautiful like this.” He praises with a sigh, body still draped over yours like a warm blanket. The words make you ache. “You’re so swollen right now, so pink and swollen, all fucked up because of me, isn’t that right?” He rubs soft circles around your bundle of nerves with the hand that’s not lodged inside you. “Hm? Are you going to come for me? I want to feel you come around my fingers with my cum in your dirty pussy.”

Maybe it’s the fact that Namjoon is the one spewing such filth, but at his words, something hooks the insides your stomach and yanks hard. 

You tumble to the edge without needing further prompting, your chest thrusting forward as tremors wrack your entire frame. Heart beating to the point of bursting, your mouth falls open in a silent scream of ecstasy. The aftershocks never seem to end, the vibrations making your entire body shake with pleasure to the point of oversensitivity. An overwhelming amount of pleasure, probably enhanced by the damned potion, has your vision turning white. All other noises fade into nothing. Darkness greets you then, pulling you into its embrace until you have no other choice but to fall.

A week later, when the professor calls your name, you hand him the bottled elixir without meeting his eyes. The clear mixture glimmers through the glass when the professor holds it up to the light. 

He examines the glass bottle carefully from all angles, “You didn’t have too many problems, did you?”

There’s an short, awkward silence as the both of you look at each other not knowing what to say. You look away first, not trusting yourself to answer the question without erupting into giggles. If only he knew the truth...

“No,” Namjoon finally answers, sheepish. He shoves his hands into his pockets as if that would disguise his fidgeting. “We work well together, actually.”

“I'm so glad you managed to put aside your differences for the good of the project,” the old man beams at the pair of you, a proud smile on his face. “I knew you would be able to do it! I should pair you two up more often.”

“Ah... yes, please do.”

It takes a monumental effort not to smack the smug smirk off his face. 

[slytherinstation]

Signature Character Tag: Pansy Parkinson

I was tagged by @sunshineandrainyflowers to do Pansy. I have a lot of thoughts about my girl Pansy, so hold on tight. I’m just going to go ahead and give you how Pansy’s backstory fans out in my brain. Enjoy the headcanon mess. 

This was started by @paradoxes-and-plotholes in this lovely post here.

Let’s start out with how Pansy came to be. 

The Parkinson’s were a part of the Sacred 28...or so everyone thought. Pansy’s mother, Deirdre Cypress Burke, was married off at the young age of 19 after almost two years of arranging on her parents’ part. She married Cessair Don Parkinson, becoming Mrs. Parkinson and thus securing her established spot within the Sacred 28. Deirdre would soon find that trips to Knockturn Alley were her escape of choice when her husband’s temper became seemingly short. She often visited her Uncle Caractacus’s shop on her trips, ogling at what new treasures she always seemed to find. One night was particularly bad, her husband railing about how she was not yet with child and the need to continue the family line. She apparated out of the house before he could see her cry and onto the streets of Knockturn Alley. Her focus was almost immediately drawn to a loud commotion outside Borgin and Burke’s. Two men stood and watched as another man performed hex after hex on a figure who appeared to be curled up on the ground, his screams piercing the otherwise silent night. Without a second thought, Deirdre retrieved her wand and shouted towards the men from across the street.

“Stop it! Stop it right this second, you absolute scum. Let him up!” Her words caused the men to halt and turn towards her. It was but a second before they erupted into derisive laughter at the sight of her. The puffy eyes, grey nightrobes, and tear stained cheeks of Deirdre Parkinson probably appeared non-threatening to the three men who made the mistake of insulting her with their laughter that night. It wasn’t until they saw the glimpse of rage in her eyes that they realized their mistake. And with a flick of her wand, they saw the wrath of Deirdre. Some would spectate that it was her pent-up anger at her husband that caused her outburst that night. However, others believe it to be the predisposed crazy in her DNA via her relation to the Black bloodline through her grandfather Phineas. However, it was simply because deep down, she was one of the first brave enough to think thoughts that would lead to the inevitable collapse of the pureblood ideology. She saw that man on the ground and knew she needed to help him. Though she knew he wasn’t a part of the 28 because she didn’t recognize him, he was worth it to her.

After saving him, she grew to know this man, Alexander Clearwater. Alexander and Deirdre would often meet during the days in small muggle pubs while Cessair was attending meetings at the Ministry. Their close friendship quickly grew into something more before Deirdre abruptly broke it off without explanation. Soon after, word got out that the Parkinson’s were expecting. The wizarding community was filled with buzz at the news. Mr. Parkinson played a large political role in the Wizarding World, being the Ministers consultant of Goblin-Wizard relations. This meant spending time in both the Ministry and Gringotts. The possibility of a son to continue on Mr. Parkinson’s work gripped the people with excitement. Nine months later came the announcement of their first (and only) child, Pansy. The public was bewildered but not at all concerned, expecting the couple to continue having children which meant a Parkinson son was just around the corner. No one was quite as disappointed as Cessair, who blamed Deirdre for the ‘mistake’ that was Pansy Parkinson. However, nothing on this earth could make Deirdre love the ‘miracle’ that was Pansy Parkinson any less.

Throughout her life, Pansy always seemed to hear her parents fighting. More often than not it was about appearances. “How would that look to the public, Deirdre!?” was a common line that echoed through the halls of Parkinson Place. Pansy came from a long line of Ravenclaws, meaning she was never one to think inside the box and she was constantly devouring information. Eavesdropping was one of her many hobbies because she learned quickly that everything worth hearing wouldn’t be screamed, it would be whispered. This habit of hers backfired rather quickly when she discovered at the age of 7 that she was tainted. Parkinson blood did not run through her veins. She was going to be the collapse of their family. At least that’s what her father said. He threatened Deirdre that night while young Pansy was listening. He said he would kill her, make it look like an accident. Pansy learned that night that conforming was her only option and that this world was the cruelest of all worlds.

Pansy spent her life fighting her every nature. As a child, she was constantly curious, often causing a ruckus on her wild quests to figure things out. She learned quickly that her father didn’t like ruckuses. He also didn’t like untidy rooms, sticky fingers, unannounced hugs, or when Pansy spoke without being spoken to. So, she studied his every action, deciding she would be like him so she didn’t have to hear another screaming match about how she was going to cause suspicion with her dissimilar behavior. What started as a face Pansy put on every day in an attempt to keep her family intact, became a rather dreadful reality. By age 11, Pansy was cold. She was bitter and mean and ready to take on the world with her bare hands.

Over Christmas break during her first year of Hogwarts, Pansy saw her father smile for the first time. It was more of a smug smirk, but in Pansy’s mind, it counted. It was when she arrived back home, in her Slytherin robes. Ambition was the trademark Slytherin trait, one that Pansy now shared with Cessair. It was but a year or so before Pansy really started to hate what she had become. She had built this wall around her true self that no one could get through. That was the person she really wanted to be. And the only one who ever saw that was her mother. So, she spent her time at Hogwarts with her guard up, overcompensating for her lack of pure blood by spitting venom at anyone who fell “below her”. It was the only way she could convince everyone she was who she said she was.

Deirdre was admitted to St.Mungo’s during the summer between Pansy’s 4th and 5th year with a case of dragon pox. The case presented itself as mild and curable at first but quickly got out of hand, causing Deirdre’s death on July 31st of that year. Pansy was filled with a hallowing emptiness following her mothers' death. In an attempt to feel anything again, Pansy rebelled. She flirted with anyone and everyone, often after many shots of firewhiskey. She wasn’t afraid to let people know that she slept around in hopes that it would absolutely destroy her father’s reputation.

During 6th year, Pansy saw what happened to Slytherin’s who made all the wrong decisions. Her best friend Draco walked a dangerously fine line and ended up tumbling right down the wrong path. Over time she slowly opened up to him, seeing similarities in their self-destructive ways and deciding to trust him. However, once he was knee deep in Dark Lord business, she didn’t see much of him. She didn’t want to end up like that, but she saw no other choice. She couldn’t let herself become vulnerable. Besides, she was the stone-cold bitch of Hogwarts. If she didn’t keep the order, who would?

So, Pansy continued her ways. She was vile and mean, she was a certified heartbreaker, and she absolutely hated herself, inside and out. On days when the self-loathing really got bad, she would go to the Black Lake. Her mother would always tell her stories of her time at Hogwarts, all of them usually centering around the Lake. Deirdre was particularly fond of the water and it was one of the only things Pansy had left to hold onto.

During the Battle in their 7th year, the worst of Pansy came out, causing all of Slytherin to be escorted to the dungeons. Being Slytherins, they of course escaped. Most of them left, fleeing to their homes but some stayed to fight. Pansy was never one to turn down a fight but she couldn’t stand looking her best friend in the eye and having to choose between what she knew was wrong and a place where she never really fit in any way. Both options seemed awful so she took the tunnels out with the other students, arriving in Hogsmeade before apparating home. She walked into her father’s study without knocking, something he always hated.

“Pansy. It was smart of you to come home, leave the fighting to those with stupid bravery in their hearts. Natural selection, if you ask me. Besides, it's not your battle to fight.” Cessair said, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper. Pansy couldn’t stand when he didn’t give her the time of day, speaking down to her as if she was an afterthought. Her jaw clenched, muscles twitching as something in her snapped.

“You’re right. That’s not my battle to fight. This is.” She said. The words sparked some sort of interest in Cessair as he looked up at Pansy just in time to see a glimmer of rage in her eyes. That same ferocity she unknowingly shared with her mother. 17 years of her life led to this moment of redemption. For Deirdre. For Alexander. For herself. Hogwarts was not the only source of smoke that night as the Parkinson residence went up in flames with the flick of Pansy’s wand. “I hope you burn!” Pansy screamed before she apparated away.

Cessair, in fact, did not burn. However, his house did. Along with his reputation and any hope of continuing the pure Parkinson line. Pansy went back for another year at Hogwarts and did her best at being less of a stone-cold bitch. She ended up meeting Alexander Clearwater, her biological father at an event for survivors of the war. He apparently fought valiantly alongside the Order of the Phoenix. Pansy thought he was exactly the kind of person her mother would love and got to know him well over the years.

((Okay so like, this is choppy and thrown together from the bits and pieces of ideas I have floating around in my brain. If it is confusing, I apologize, it’s probably confusing to me too. But it is what it is.))

I am tagging @rainbowsandsilverlinings to do any of the characters that you’ve done. Cause I love them all. 

Also, whoever would like to do it!