#does my thesis count as an obsession

[atypicalacademic]

6 Questions

Tagged by @memaidraws and @dirty-bosmer i love you both!

Last Song: Jaibhim Anthem by The Casteless Collective

Last Show Movie: I haven’t finished any show recently haha, but I did attend a screening of Nanpakal Nerathe Mayakkam  this Friday. Highly recommended! 

Currently Watching: I have a whole bunch of shows on my unfinished list but I’m not actively watching anything. So I will answer with another movie, Aamis (The Ravening), a rather riveting Assamese film I’ve been watching in bits this weekend.

Currently Reading: Aside from what I’m reading for work, I’m shuttling between Sarah Waters’ Fingersmith, and Shoshana Zuboff’s The Age of Surveillance Capitalism

Current Obsession: I have like five of them at once. Currently though I want to fight my writer’s block and get through my Morrowind longfic. My other obsession has been the extremely elaborate AUs @cumbiazevran and I have been making.

Unrelated Obsession: On a quest to find good fried mackarel in this city. 

I’m late to this party so everyone who hasn’t done this already please consider yourself tagged and tag me! I’m nosy.

[gnohomotho-blog]

Just a game (part 2) 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

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Pairing: Hwang In-ho / The Frontman x fem!reader

Summary: We're getting there, folks. (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞ ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜) Mostly fluff, need, imagination, fantasy, slow burn. Focus on the f!reader, because you deserve nice things. She's home, receiving odd gifts, some sweet, some...quite the not sweet, the game and plot and trouser legs thicken (I'm so sorry, it's literally 2 a.m. here). In-ho definitely isn't obsessing over you, hatching elaborate plans, thinking of you so hard he'll break another turtleneck. Not saying the f!reader has any specific issues, but if you recognize any, I hope to be nothing but respectful. ♥ Oh, and we have a dream sequence, Freud would be proud.

(This was mainly meant as a "put your feet up and be cozy, read about yourself and feel good" read, the action will come later. Among other things. I'm so sorry, my thesis is driving me mad.)

Warnings: It's the god damn Front Man The usual Squid Game warnings, mdni, stalking, spying, voyeurism, touching, self-touching, sexual themes, sexual almost-intercourse, descriptions of anatomy and body parts, blood, yearning, some terrible references and Slavic folklore. Privacy? In my fic? It's less likely than you think.

Word count: 4.2k

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A cup of tea. A cup. You were watching the cup. Steam rises from it and folds into nothing. Your stomach is churning. Is it stress? You ponder. Seeing the liquid close in on itself as you stir it. Again and again.

"It'll get cold." You say, to no one. You try to breathe. Heart pounding. Head a bit spinny. You look around your room. Dimly lit, warm orange light from a salt lamp. You check your blinds - still closed, still safe. Noise from other people you try to filter out. Why do you jump at every single sound? Why does white noise blaring its head off make for the only atmosphere you can stand? You wonder. You get up. The world spins. The phone lies on your bed. As it has for the last three hours. Unchecked. Your sound is off. It always is. You turned off everything this time. It's just black. You try to think, ground yourself, poems float through your pounding head. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the tall mirrors of your wardrobe. An oddly shaped form stares back at you.

"Jesus Christ…I look…like shit." The mirrored lips curl around your words - but it might as well have been a stranger speaking back at you. You don't recognize yourself, and what you do, you dislike. Like a funhouse mirror. Without the fun. Your long hair falls across your shoulders, curling towards the ends. Your exposed skin is cold and giving a nice exposé of every vein under your neck, driving rivers of blue across your collarbones, your shoulders, your chest. You won't look further. They seem to be drawn to your middle, pooling across your skin. People often referred to you as pale, no matter your actual skin tone. When things got a tad too heavy, you became transparent. It was calming, sometimes. Calming that so much was trying to keep you alive to the point of exhausting itself and sending highways of signals through every vein to keep at it. Your head spins again. More poems. Try to drink the tea.

"Light your candle, one, two, there's a moth…" You know the rest. But the lips fail to speak. You pick up the phone. And almost knock over your tea. Then proceed to fight an urge to fling it into a wall and watch the stains roll down like fresh blood.

Seventeen missed calls from a blocked number - your now ex-companion. A worried message from your friend, no doubt spurred by said ex-companion with an entirely different story to reality. Frowning, you adjust your dressing gown and tie it down to hold everything in and hold you together.

"Hey, Y/N…I know you probably don't want to talk, but I'm sorry things went so badly. I'm here."

You hate yourself a little more. Clara has always been a darling, you…cared for her. A lot. You wish to say "loved", you squint your eyes and wish to say you love her. People are kind. People are always so very kind. And you can't drink a cup of tea. Nor reply. There's also an email. From a set of numbers, no name. You open it, against your better judgement. No subject, only a photograph. Of your door. Your door inside your flat. Which is locked. You didn't ring anyone in. You, of all people, didn't hear any steps on the stairs. You live at the very top floor. And still?! What is wrong with you lately, now of all times?

And still, there is a photograph of your door. With…things? Your shoes were gently placed beside your mat.

"Um…" You knock on your housemate's door - how grateful you are for the economic situation which doesn't permit you to live alone now, you think bitterly as his steps approach.

"Oh, Y/N, how are you? What can I do you for?" Ever the cheerful voice and visage stands before you, half dressed, always flooded with work and hobbies. The room behind him is full of papers and candles, manuals and scripts, and information that probably shouldn't be lying around covered in bird photography snaps. It calms you a tad. You breathe out and uncross your arms. In the back of your mind, you wonder what he's always so entranced with.

"I'm getting there, thank you, Lubo." Your chest falls a tad, you really do feel a bit better, but very on edge. You fidget with your fingers as you speak. "Would it be alright to ask if you could open the main door with me? Something is there and I've been listening to too many IRA anthems to trust it." Because making a joke out of a very serious situation never failed you yet.

"Sure!"

You notice one of the birds on the ground behind him. Gazing at one photograph a little longer, you smile at the birdie and its soft grey feathers, little black dash across its little eyes...you realise you're looking at a shrike. The universe really is sending her best.

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You open the door as Lubo endeavours to rummage through the things on your doorstep. It seems to be a very neatly wrapped black box with a pink bow. With a little token of a crow embossed on its side. Heavy, by the looks of it. You half expect your ex-companion's limbs to be soaking its insides.

"I'll take it indoors and disinfect it, ok? Just so it doesn't feel like you've contaminated the flat." You nod, thank him over and over, and feel very grateful for him remembering your slight fights with obsessive cleanliness and parasites. But this looks…clean. You take a knife from your room, the knife that's been under your pillow for good reason. Kneeling, you gently unwrap the box altogether and distance yourself from the thing for a little bit. Breathe. It's just a box. Those never go wrong.

It's…full of…gifts?

Your…favourite flowers, perfectly preserved. No one knows your favourite flowers that well. Under them, resting under jewels of crimson poppies, lies a book of poems, the ones you use to calm yourself down; the ones that make you feel less alone. In the correct languge, even. Next to the poppies, hot water bottles, wrapped, fluffy, still warm. Under them yet, medication you couldn't get from your doctor for the entire month due to disagreements and never being heard, half of them aren't even sold in the country. Bath salts, dark chocolate, tea…there seems to be so much. Your face is caught in a mixture of attempting to frown, being swept off your feet, and deeply uncomfortable with what is basically an encyclopedia of you in a box. You carefully lay the items to the side and begin to notice things you truly need your housemate to not see. You lose your breath for a moment and blush so hard you almost forget both the kindness and terror of the rest of the package. It seems to be divided into care for you and…some other forms of urges. As if. As fucking if.

"Google, remind me to photograph this tomorrow in good light," you say to nothing, "to use as evidence either after this person manages to kill me or before, if the courts move faster than an asthmatic ant with heavy shopping."

Against your better judgement, you carry the box to your room and watch it for a while, as you do other things, but can never quite relax. Surely he can't be serious. Your name isn't Shirley.

There was also a note you now keep flinging on your table and crunching in your hands, neatly written, with no name.

"Dear Y/N,

should you wish to meet someone qualified to help with the attached records, it has been arranged. Be at the coordinates listed between the red and white gift and you will be taken care of. No harm will come to you. You are safe. As right as rain."

Right as rain…that's a part of a poem, that absolute…dear God, fuck, the thoughts in your head are tumbling down at you and you collapse onto the bed, staring at your knees. It's a good thing he somehow didn't include your most loved flowers, since they're all poisonous. One of them you like specifically because it is elegant, sharp, snowy, and beautiful - and all of her body, leaves, and seed pouches scream "don't fucking touch me, if you do, you will die and wish for death the entire time you are doing so". You would very much like to be the flower now. Make someone else hallucinate.

You search the box again and find the beautiful gown, in red, and the gentle white lace undergarments - as kind and gentle and revealing as they are elegant. A little QR code is nestled between the lace.

"Nope. Nope nope NOPE. Absolutely not," you say out loud. Fighting the fact that the nightgown under the two other garments is cozy and light and so very beautiful. And it smells…oddly familiar. With a hint of something else. As if someone knew you loved scents of sweetness, vanilla, caramel, honey, and skin combined with darker, heavier tones that don't usually mix with feminine perfumes. Something lovely and gentle to draw you in, with something far more potent, enveloping, and enthralling to drag you down the lake to drown. And yet. Still. Something else. Something more. You decide to put on the gown and stare into a little crow's eyes. Such a pretty little statue, you don't even remember where you got it from.

"I'm going to be alright. Water is fine. This is just water. We've been here, we've been in the mud up to our noses." You are whispering to yourself, trying to sooth your mind. Metaphores, poems, sooth sooth sooth. You close your eyes, think of beautiful women, barefoot, in the dark of a forest. Glistening lights in their long hair, lights in their gorgeous eyes. Light on their feet, as they dance upon the water and through the marsh. You cannot drown a forest spirit of a woman scorned. They will mesmerize you, dance you, dance you to the end of your love and tether, and pull you into the depths. Then kiss you as you gasp for air.

You undress, eyes still closed, holding the long white gown. You slowly slide into the fabric, which clings to your skin as a lover's touch at the first sign of morning light. Still trying to be as unbothered and confident as a forest Rusalka. You aren't. But the gown smells nice. And it's quite light. Long sleeves, fabric that reveals but doesn't scream. Lace around your chest and stomach, falling down your hips and thighs.

…Kiss you as you gasp for air.

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In-ho was pleased with his gift. Not only the gift, but the message. Upon message. Upon message. He wondered, quite hopeful - yet reserved - if you understood them all. No matter.

You will. Oh, you will. Every word. Even if he has to cling them to your skin, one by one, with his own lips.

To the surprise of absolutely no one except you, perhaps, the small bird brought him all the feedback he could desire. Rather low quality feedback, he thought, as he watched you ponder, watched you crunch up the note, and watched you dress. Instinctively, he looked away as you began to slide your own clothes down. He glimpsed perhaps a strap, perhaps more skin than he first saw…light reflecting off you, sliding down, further down, caressing your tenderness…yet he looked away, calmly resolute to not look back. His gaze remained firmly in the corner of the room, he certainly wasn't fighting - or imagining himself being the photons of light resting on your supple skin. No. It would be unbecoming to watch a lady undress, so vulnerable, so unknowing. Never mind the rest. If you looked up the word "hypocrite" in the dictionary, In-ho's face wouldn't be next to it. It would be on the next page, because he would never be caught. As he looked back, you were dressed, not looking at yourself.

In-ho frowns for a moment, before he sees the rest of you. Even though it's just a phone screen and the picture quality truly isn't doing you justice, his breath is caught. He shifts and looks around instinctively, only a flicker of the eyes and a small movement of the neck. But he's nervous, nervous to be so exposed. He chuckles to himself just as unnoticeably - he's spying on you yet he's the one feeling exposed..was the chuckle to ease tension? This is just a game to him and you are nothing, after all. No one. He shifts once more and uncrosses his legs, one hand slowly combing his hair firmly away from of his forehead. Nothing. Just as it is nothing that is making the jacket around his neck feel tight. He sees you stand, further away now. He sees your entirety in the white flowing fabric, the lace, the…entirety…of you. His coat needs to come off, and is discarded to the side in haste. The remaining turtleneck isn't much help, but he goes in, now fully enthralled. Positioning himself, he endeavours to enjoy you. Slowly. From the tip of your head to the soles of your feet, remaining fully in control, admiring, never taking, never grabbing. Never…needing. But as he moves down your face, your cheeks, your chin, along your neck all the way to your hair resting on your now exposed shoulders, back to your mouth and lips - he leans into the screen - those supple yet reserved, tender lips whispering gently and curling around words as if speaking to a sleeping lover in the night who is caught in a bad dream, the eyes - damn the picture quality - the eyes that glint, yet resemble dark pools amid features that are…that mean…his heart is fast. His eyes pools of reckless abandon. They flicker to the movement of your hips and tick fast, fast back up top, stopping at the almond curve the nightgown begets your breasts - In-ho's hands twitch as his fingers yearn with a mind of their own, to hear you gasp and squirm and melt under their touch as he teases, cups, and caresses in the gown's place. Tender flowers, waiting to be kissed. As you move, for him, for his eyes only, his mind floods through its inhibitions and begins racing on instinct - yet does so wrapped in cotton; barely subdued. Algorithms, scenarios, plans - ten a second - gather in his mind - resting on nothing but your features, spurred into existence by you, your lips, your form, your movement. He's watching the last flame dance before him in a sea of suffocating darkness, and it is his. Tension grips The Frontman's trousers as he digs his fingers in to feel something, anything, as if to drag himself back, painfully if need be - all this…for a low quality moving picture of you.

You. Your self before him. No adjective does it justice to In-ho, no painter could stroke its surface, nobody could own this moment. Nobody but him. And he cannot reach, reach through the screen, for you, for you mean…you in your entirety, before him, vulnerable, bare, unknowing, both a deity to be worshipped and a form to be devoured and left pleading, barely breathing under him, his grasp, his hot breath, you, you mean…

…nothing to him. In-ho leans back again. He breathes a bit faster, containing himself. As his breath slows and features fall back into place, he straightens the trouser leg and exhales. Your name is on his lips as he does so; he whispers it to himself. A name that doesn't seem to leave his tongue, no matter how many times it wraps around every syllable.

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…you are nothing."

He turns off the screen with one click. "Nothing." He gets up, leaving the phone behind. He is back to his true self - unbothered, cold, empty. A statue of stone. It was fun while it lasted, but the shell he wears gets tired of the falsity imbued in it during these little sidesteps. Little adventures to ease the monotony. Your records lie on the table, next to his glass of dark liquer. He walks over slowly, cradles it, sipping with restraint, and puts it down just as slowly in the exact same place. He goes on with his evening, thinking, it must be said, of nothing. He continues his work, thinking of nothing. Nothing replaces the drabble of his underlings as they update him on the latest games. Nothing is on his mind as he showers, nothing is in the water that glides down his own body. Nothing is in the warmth that he doesn't imagine being replaced nor coming from a different source. The voice of nothing is in the hiss and humm of the shower, nothing sings to him sweetly as it envelops his form. Nothing is woven into his satin sheets, nothing still smells of the perfume he picked for you, nothing is in his bed and pillows and nothing is slowly, invariably, fatally invading his mind. The cologne he uses, the same cologne he rubbed upon certain parts of the gown you now rest in, isn't combining and wildly interweaving with your gentle, warm, sweet, yet heavy scent. Nothing is everywhere and nothing is driving him absolutely stark, staring mad as he lays there - naked, exposed, amid satin sheets, it is nothing that invades his dreams and wraps him in sensations he can still only dream of.

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Barren lands and dusk. No flowers. No life. In-ho is alone. As far as the eye can see lies nothing. He cannot feel his mask. A shape is in front of him, laying there, incredulous. Unfitting its surroundings. As if guided by an unseen hand, he walks up to her slowly and kneels beside her. She is dressed in white fabric, falling across her skin, exposing more than is becoming of such a form. Her hand is resting next to her head, her other at her side. She is peacefully asleep. A gentle humm escapes her lips - she must be dreaming. In-ho glides the back of his hand everso carefully across her cheek, guiding it down her neck and stopping at her collarbones. Her chest lifts in a slow rhythm as her skin touches his. She is his. Is she not? He could...open his hand, and his hand opens. He could place it around her neck, and he does. As he feels her warmth and blood pumping into his hand, he thinks he could squeeze and hold down. He doesn't. The form reacts to his intentions, seemingly, her face frowning in the most unnoticeable way, lips falling from their previous peaceful expression to a worried frown. As if caught in a bad dream.

No, no, no.

In-ho releases the pressure and merely rests his hand on her neck, pushing errant strands of hair away from her skin. They fall around her shoulders and between the fingers of his other hand, which lifts instinctively to cradle her head. Her expression relaxes, and he smiles almost on instinct. Suddenly, her eyes flutter open and gaze into his own, almost unblinking and holding his gaze. The pools of comforting darkness set in an innocent visage drive electrical current through his entire body and In-ho almost has to steady himself against the ground where his hand is holding her head, still. She isn't scared, she only gazes and studies, lays, and rests in his own dark eyes. Her smile mirrors his. As if the two of them were already familiar, already far beyond anything novel. She whispers to him.

"Darling, this isn't your place."

In-ho doesn't think, he knows the voice. The gentle, slow, melodic whisper that he wishes to hear before he goes to sleep himself. Putting more strength into his grip, he places his dominant palm in hers as it still lays beside her head. He squeezes her down. Without thought, his body shifts to move above hers, holding her gaze, now directly on top of her, without touching her body with his. His hands no longer gentle, but firmly holding down. His thumb caresses her cheek as his other hand pushes her palm into the ground.

"It doesn't need to be."

As the sentence barely left his lips, he connects them with her neck, firmly kissing the skin and pulling her into his bite. The taste is intoxicating, and beckons for more. Sweet, tender, pure, intoxicating. Down her neck he plants kisses and barely restrained bites, gliding his touch, gripping her hand and moving his other to her neck once more. He hears gasps and timid moans, and he moves down, lips brushing against her chest and resting upon it. He lets go of her hand and finally grips her, under the small of her back, caressing and squeezing her waist, lifting her body into his. Now he feels her. Now he feels her being react and pressure and squirm, now he feels the pulse of her body directly under his and melting into him. Every movement, every gasp, every beat of her heart - in his control, under him, sinking into him. Her waist lifts against his and he eagerly helps it up, feeling his need against her body, finally, all he needs to do is tear off the gown, take her, make her fully his and hear her cries and moans as he takes what is his. Still in control of himself, he fully recognizes his itch, his need, his voracious hunger. He recognizes it and fully gives into it.

But the dream does not let him.

Something is wrong. The body is colder now, her breathing is slow, her voice no longer caressing him, her being no longer reacting to his touch. The current fizzled out. Pulling away, he sees the damage done - even as her eyes are wistful and her smile still there, it is sorrowful and soft, gazing down at him although broken under him. He sees her neck and chest, her breasts exposed, her skin red with bite marks, red with his signatures. Lines where his grip failed to falter rest on her tender flesh, her pallor a canvas for his need and depravity. For his destruction. He does not want this, he does not want her like this, his mind races and tries to get back in control but cannot. The canvas before him begins to soak through in crimson, blood pools into the white fabric where he lay and pushed and tried to take her. As he watches the gown cling to her stomach with blood, fear drives cold daggers through his back. He is no longer the Front Man, he is himself. Himself before a Front Man ever was. And he is...scared. Still her voice reaches him, doing nothing to alleviate his state, doing nothing to destroy the damn invisible barrier that keeps him from holding her close, holding her together, holding him together.

"Not like this darling, not like this again."

How is she still smiling? How does she seem so cold yet encompassing an utter lack of proximity? Holding her now seems like the most sacriligeous, repugnant thing he could do. His hands shiver lightly, how is he afraid to touch her now? After all that? She is his, his, this is all so incredibly wrong! He doesn't care, he doesn't have feelings for such frivolities, she is a dime a dozen, she is worth nothing, and she is nothing to him; nothing.

And she's still smiling, a little laugh escaping her lips as if she can hear his inner turmoil and has seen it thrice before.

"Taking what you want, never what you need."

In-ho looks down at his own body, which begins to feel cold and wrong. As if missing something vital. He smells copper, his hand feels hot as he touches his chest yet his body grows colder. The last thing he remembers before waking up in a freezing sweat is looking down at his own body, now filled with open chasms wherever it touched hers - gaping empty holes that can be filled with nothing, bleeding him into the ground as she watches on.

In-ho gasps, springs up into a seated position and touches his chest, his stomach - and breathes in relief. As he is composing himself, a new manner of play begins to form in his mind. Between hurried breaths and elevated pulse beats, he plans a new way to play this game and win.

[castdust]

please come home.

✩ pairing : yoonchae jeung x best-friend!reader

✩about : going back home was just a perfect gift and surprise for yoonchae

✩ genre : fluff

✩ a/n : platonic relationship !! | 1108 words

♫ playing : please come home for christmas by grentperez.

You adjust the angle of your phone, propping it against the books on your dorm desk so it doesn’t fall. Your laptop glows beside you, the half-finished paper glaring back like a judgmental friend. The cursor blinks at you, urging you to focus, but it’s impossible to concentrate when Yoonchae’s voice bubbles through the screen.

“…And then I went to this cute little café in Beacon Hill,” she says, her excitement contagious even through the pixels. “They had this cranberry-orange scone that could put all of those boxed pastries at your cafeteria to shame.”

You chuckle, spinning a pen idly between your fingers. “That’s not a high bar, Chae. You could give me stale bread, and it’d taste better than anything they serve here.”

Yoonchae leans closer to her screen, her hair bouncing as she moves. Behind her, the familiar coziness of her room glows softly. Golden fairy lights strung across her wall twinkle, a fuzzy blanket drapes lazily over her bed, and in the corner, the faint glimmer of a Christmas tree reminds you of home.

You swallow against the knot forming in your throat.

“You sound like you’re in terrible need of good food and fresh air,” Yoonchae teases, resting her chin on her hand. “Seriously, when’s the last time you saw a tree?”

“Does the fake one in the common room count?”

Yoonchae groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “That’s tragic. You’ve been in that stuffy dorm too long. You need sunlight, human connection—Christmas!”

You laugh, but there’s an ache beneath it. Every conversation about home makes it harder to keep the secret you’ve been holding so tightly.

“College life,” you say lightly, twirling your pen. “They give us three weeks off, and half of that’s eaten up by finals and travel time. It’s not exactly a winter wonderland here.”

“But you could come home,” Yoonchae presses, her voice softening. “It’s been a whole year, you know? You missed last Christmas because of that awful schedule. I know it’s not easy, but… it’s not the same without you here.”

Her words hit you hard, sharp like cold air, yet warming in their honesty. Yoonchae has never been one to dance around feelings, and her blunt sincerity always finds a way to your heart.

You stare at your laptop, pretending to focus on the blinking cursor, but your mind spins—not with guilt, but with the excitement of what Yoonchae doesn’t know.

“I wish I could,” you say, feigning a sigh. “But it’s just not realistic. Plane tickets are insane right now, and with everything going on here, I don’t think I could pull it off.”

“Ugh, I hate that,” Yoonchae says, her voice quieter now. “I mean, I get it, but I just… I really miss you. And not just for the Christmas traditions or whatever. I miss you.”

Your chest tightens, and a small smile pulls at your lips. Yoonchae’s always been this way—blunt, caring, and loyal in a way that makes distance feel unbearable.

“I miss you too,” you admit softly.

The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s warm, filled with things neither of you needs to say aloud.

Eventually, Yoonchae breaks it, her tone brightening. “Anyway, enough about my feelings. What’s going on with you? Besides drowning in schoolwork, obviously.”

You grin, grateful for the shift. “Not much. Unless you count discovering that my professor has an alarming obsession with cheese analogies.”

“Cheese?” Yoonchae arches a brow.

“Yeah. Like, ‘Writing a thesis is like aging a fine cheddar.’ I don’t know if it’s supposed to be motivational or just… weird.”

She bursts out laughing, the sound so pure and joyful it makes you laugh, too.

“Oh my god, only you would end up with a professor like that,” Yoonchae wheezes.

“Lucky me,” you say dryly.

The conversation drifts from there, like it always does. She tells you about Boston, about running into an old high school friend, and about how her little brother has already eaten half the Christmas cookies their mom baked.

The whole time, you keep your secret close, waiting for the moment it’ll reveal itself—not now, but soon.

When the call finally ends, you lean back in your chair, staring at the dark phone screen. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, but your heart feels fuller than it has in weeks.

You glance at the plane ticket sitting on your desk, the edges curled slightly from being folded and unfolded so many times. In less than twelve hours, you’ll be on your way home.

The next evening, you stand on Yoonchae’s front porch, your duffel bag slung over one shoulder. The air is crisp, sharp against your cheeks, and your breath clouds faintly in the glow of the porch light.

Inside, you can hear muffled voices, the hum of holiday music, and the faint clatter of dishes. It’s exactly as you remember—slightly chaotic, but warm and welcoming in a way no dorm room could ever replicate.

You hesitate for a second, nerves and anticipation swirling in your chest. Then you raise your hand and knock.

It takes only a moment before the door swings open. Yoonchae stands there in fuzzy socks and an oversized sweater, her hair slightly messy and her expression confused at first.

“Hi,” you say, your grin sheepish.

For a beat, Yoonchae just stares at you, her eyes wide, her mouth opening and closing without sound.

“Y/N?” she finally manages, her voice higher than usual.

“The one and only,” you say, stepping forward. “Surprise.”

A half-laugh, half-gasp escapes her before she launches herself at you, arms wrapping tight around your shoulders. Your bag nearly slips from your hand, but you don’t care—you hug her back just as tightly.

“You’re here!” Yoonchae exclaims, pulling back enough to look at you. “You’re actually here! How? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You laugh, the sound muffled against her shoulder. “I wanted to surprise you. Figured it was about time I came home for Christmas.”

She shakes her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “You’re ridiculous. But this is the best surprise ever.”

“Good,” you say, your smile widening. “Because I’ve got a whole week to make up for last year.”

She grins, grabbing your hand and pulling you inside. “Come on. Mom’s going to lose her mind when she sees you. And you’re not escaping cookie decorating. We’re doing that tonight.”

You let yourself be tugged into the warmth of the house, the scents of cinnamon and pine wrapping around you like a hug. Your heart feels light, your worries left behind.

It’s good to be home. For the first time in a long time, everything feels right.

[enlitment]

N°2 for the book asks

Thanks for the ask kind anon and sorry for taking forever to answer! (this one was not easy!)

Top 5 books of all time?

In no particular order:

1. Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood

Set in an interesting historical period (Canada in the 1800s) + partially based on real events + focuses on women's issues + from a female perspective + includes complex, morally grey characters + unreliable narrator trope + criminal (sub)plot + weird historical psychoanalysis & psychiatry + some really great writing. Need I say more?

(Also the show is actually really good as well, if you don't feel like reading the book!)

2. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

I mean, it's a classic for a reason. Gay yearning. Corruption. Murder. Beautiful descriptive prose. But hey, this is Tumblr, so I feel like I'm preaching to the choir here.

(Still need to get my hands on the uncensored version at some point!)

3. The World's Wife by Carol Ann Duffy

I've reread this one more times than I can count. Duffy draws on the classics (mostly Greek mythology, but also fairy tale characters and even Faust) but reimagines them through a more contemporary, as well as female perspective. That could go wrong really easily, but this book in fact does a stellar job in my opinion.

Just read Eurydice, my favourite (I don't think I've ever felt quite as represented by a poem before). Or Medusa. Or Pygmalion's Bride.

Or, you know, and poem that is not Mrs. Tiresias - I like to pretend that one is not there.

4. A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess

Very much my teenage obsession. It's a gripping read written from the point of view of a teenage criminal that speaks in a strange mix of English and Russian that is at first barely coherent. It's raw, it's brutal, but it also asks some very interesting questions about the nature of morality and free will in a way that does not feel forced.

Oh, and the movie's great as well. Possibly the best soundtrack of all time. So good and so problematic that it's been banned in the UK until the 2000s.

5. The Great Cat Massacre (and Other Episodes in French Cultural History) by Robert Darnton

A collection of essays focusing on the microhistory of 18th century France? It's a real mystery why I like it so much, huh.

It's actually a bit insane how much I owe to this book. It arguably helped to spark my Rousseau and Diderot (and, in general, enlightenment era) obsession. I also sneakily reapplied Darnton's argument to justify my thesis (it's totally necessary to study 18th-century mental health approaches, give me all the funds now, please! /s).

Darnton is not only a hilarious author, but you also get a sense that he truly cares about the people he writes about. If you get your hands on it, I recommend reading chapter 4 (includes police description of the key enlightenment figures, like V, Rousseau, and Diderot!) or chapter 6 (the Rousseau stan culture analysis).

Maybe skip the titular chapter, especially if you are fond of cats. I'm afraid the name is, in this case, quite literal.

[lixenn]

OCtober 2024 day 23: community

@myrmyrtheorca one science girl coming right up! Anemone is also working hard, pipetting lots for qPCR 🫡 what a legend!

A yapping essay under the cut, I will talk science so you have been warned.

Now before I ramble about science I'm just gonna talk about the art for a bit. I did use a reference for this because I'm not insane and drawing the lineart with it was ... alright I would say. I actually looked through my own pictures and my uni website first in case I could find something as a ref but no dice so I needed to look it up anyways. I think the most difficult lineart to draw was the fucking pipettes... I need everyone to know that all the lab equipment (except maybe the blue regant holder) is a simplification of what it actually looks like because by god I could not replicate the real thing with my current skill set. I know most people will not give a fuck but I do so it needed to be said.

Otherwise colouring went okay and rendering wasn't extremely tedious. I noticed that I actually really like rendering blond hair, years ago I found this hack where you use red for the shadows and turn the opacity down and it works so well every time, I'm a bit obsessed tbh. I need to give more of my OCs blond hair lmao.

Okay enough about art let's talk science! Honestly this is really just me explaining science stuff, so feel free to skip because this can get long.

As I mentioned above I drew Anemone doing qPCR and I chose qPCR because her focus is genetic research. So basically she looks into the human genome (entire set of human genes) to see how it correlates to the Pallid Flame.

qPCR stands for quantitative polymerase chain reaction or real time polymerase chain reaction (RTpcr) and it's a valuable tool for analysing stuff down to genetic aka DNA level. You might have learnt about PCR in school but if not or if you've forgotten: PCR is the amplification of a specific gene aka you take one specific part of someone's DNA and replicate it a bunch of times. This is useful if you want to proof if a specific gene is present in the DNA you are analysing. Now qPCR also does the DNA amplification but as it already implies with the name it also counts how much the gene was amplified. You can use qPCR in many applications for example I used this method in my thesis to test if skin related genes are upregulated (higher gene expression aka genes are more activated? <- me trying to simplify genetics I'm not sure if this is the correct term of phrase) or down regulated (lower gene expression) when I put mast cells in my skin models. It gives you insight how certain factors affect cells on DNA level and since it will give you number at the end you can do statistics which is what everyone will really care about. I hope this explanation was at least somehow understandable if anyone has any questions I can talk more about this no prob 🫡

In fact I will talk more about it just... less why you do qPCR but more on how you do it. Because the thing is with this method... You need to pipette, you need to pipette A LOT. And honestly I'm really not a fan because you need to be so exact with this pipetting since each mistake you make stacks up and shows in your data at the end. It's very frustrating especially because there are a lot of steps where you can make mistakes and you need to be fully concentrated the entire time. I... I would say I'm good at my job but I really don't like this part of it because it grates on my nerves. But I think Anemone would be good at it, it's something repetitive that requires a steady hand and patience. Normally post Docs and even some PhD students let assisstants handle this job but I'd like to imagine that Anemone likes doing small things occasionally. Maybe not the entire process (there's a lot of prep work required for qPCR) but the last few steps she can take over, just for a change of pace.

[destieltaggedfic]

so i might have become obsessed with the movie twisters and i'm dying for some storm chaser destiel fic, if you know of any good ones? i couldn't find many, but even if they aren't storm chasers and just tornadoes/thunderstorms/bad weather is featured, i'll take it! i'm desperate! i'm not against the bare minimum of reading about them huddling for warmth in the rain at this point lol! anyways i love your blog and everything you do, you're awesome 💙💚

interesting, I think one of these is actuallly an adaptation of Twister, but its been years since I saw that movie so I might be wrong.

Significant Severe – Tossukka   Ao3

AU.  TV meteorologist Castiel is disdainful of storm chasers, seeing them as thrill-seekers.  When you-tuber Dean hears this he invites Castiel to come out with his team and see first hand the important work they do.

Word Count: 22k                              Graphic Sexual Acts

i said i'd give my life for just one kiss – Duckyboos   Ao3

AU.  Dean uses unsigned divorce papers to lure his ex out to see the built version of a machine for scanning tornadoes that they had theorised together.

Word Count: 2k                                 No Sex

Chasing Your Heart – deancaskiss   Ao3

AU.  Despite only having minutes until a tornado forms, Dean stops to help the guy broken down on the side of the road.  He coaxes Cas into his car as it’s the safest place to be as they chase the storm.

Word Count: 5k                                 No Sex

Into the Whale's Mouth – jordinawrites   Ao3

AU.  Needing something to write his final thesis on, Cas asks if he can write about Dean’s storm chasing hobby.  He’s going to learn that not only does Dean have an interest in weather but also him.

Word Count: 21k                              No Sex

Chasing Storms – CastielsHeart   Ao3

AU.  Rival storm chasers Dean and Cas had a one night stand last year and have been ignoring each other since.  Until Cas’ car breaks down and Dean finds him.

Word Count: 4k                                 Graphic Sexual Acts

[a-canceled-stamp]

2024 writing roundup

Thank you for the tag @crows-murder 🥰

Words posted:

42,465!

Additional words written:

…does my master thesis count? 😎

But regarding wips? Man if I only knew. But let's see. No less than 10 wips, one of which is 17k and the rest AT LEAST 2k words each, so…35k words in total perhaps?

Fandoms:

Batfam

Star Wars

Marvel

Highest kudos + highest hit one-shot:

For both it is the end is never the end is never the end is never with 1,239 kudos and 6,853 hits.

New things I tried:

Perhaps a strange thing to be excited about but - writing smut!! I’m still working on my first nsfw fic for malevolent and I’m so excited. Not sure if I’m gonna do this again, but it has been a fun challenge!

I’ve also finally started sprinting "correctly". Meaning I don't stop to edit as I write. I wrote a 2k fic in 1 1/2 days with this method - insane. Def something I’m gonna try to keep up with.

Fic I spent the most time on:

I meannnn technically it’s Unshaken since after 2 years I'm still only on chapter 4. But when it comes to the fics/chapters I posted in 2024 it's put your hand on my shoulder.

Fic i spent the least time on:

The end is never the end is never the end is never

I wrote this in 3 days as a gift for a dear discord friend and I’m very very happy with how it turned out. Crazy how little time I spent on this.

Favorite thing i wrote:

Cardboard box

The comments on this one KILLS me every time. Incredible.

Favorite thing(s) i read:

MANY MANY FICS TO CHOOSE BETWEEN. This felt impossible but here are the ones that stuck out to me;

Batman (DC)🦇🃏

buy back the secrets by sundiscus ( @vinelark) (91k, 5/6 chapters) Summary: Tim/Kon slow burn 5+1 identity porn shenanigans Comment: Holy shit. Incredible. A-mazing. I love this fic so so so much. Might very much be my fav fic of 2024.

SYNCHRONICITY by orpheusaki (30k, 5/5 chapters) Summary: Dick & Bruce time travel shenanigans. Ouchhhhh Comment: This fic. Ahhhhhh this fic. It hurts me in the best way <333 if u, like me, are obsessed with Bruce and Dick reconciliation and hurt/comfort then this is the fic 4 u.

A Dream of Morning by @sunflowersandink) (<5k, 1/1 chapters) Summary: Bruce is tasked with taking care of Tim after he suffers through a concussion. The fucking idiot FALLS ASLEEP- Comment: This fic causes such dread to bloom in my chest. I love it to death. The way it's written is so haunting and I will never forget the first time I read it. Tear my heart and stomp on it why don't u.

penance by @cuephrase (34k, 5/5 chapters) Summary: Tim dies, but his soul is stuck at the Manor. Comment: *distant sobbing*. When I tell you this fic made me STRESSED. Holy shit, it's so good. The twist- the TWIST. Such great angst, such hurt, many wow. 10/10 would suffer again.

Operation Friendship Helmet by @goldenraeofsun (33k words, 3/3 chapters) Summary: Jason & Dick Red Hood identity porn that makes you wonder whether you should wheeze or weep. Comment: Iiiiiiiiiiiiih this fic. Incredible, showstopping, sickening (pos). The dialogue is *chefs kiss*. A wonderful read!!!

Open Line by @lurkinglurkerwholurks (2k, 1/1 chapters) Summary: Dick & Bruce hurt/comfort feat Bruce being A FANTASTIC DAD  Comment: ;_; this fic is like a comforting hug. I fucking love Good Dad!Bruce

Bad Batch

The Heart That Fed by @yatzstar Summary: Tech falls and the Shadow survives. Comment: I got really into the Bad Batch for a while in 2024 and holy shit, this fic was like ice on a burn. Beautifully written, EXCELLENT plot with soooo much hurt and many a comfort. Obsessed with it.

Writing goals for 2025:

Finish wips!!! It’s going to be difficult!!! Perhaps impossible!! But I must.

Also finish TMA so that I can read all the fics FINALLY

New works:

Bruce & Robin!Tim tlou-inspired apocalypse bonding thing

Private Eyes smut >:3

cardboard box chapter 2 (feat good bro damian)

previously brainwashed Dick experiences crippling remorse

Dunno who hasn't been tagged yet, but imma go with @they-reap-what-we-sow, @selkienight60, @sunflowersandink and @sassydefendorflower ^.^

[mariyekos]

WIP Folder Game

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have WIPs. People can send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

Okay so I didn't actually get tagged in this but it crossed my dash and seemed fun so I decided to do it! This does not count fics in my "Unfinished FF" folder, which includes the sub folders of "On Hold" and "Abandoned" (and has at least 3 dozen more fics). I'm also not tagging as many people as I have WIPs because there are uh. 79 of them. Which is a lot of people to tag.

What I've realized is I should really clean out my WIP folder again. A lot of these could be separated out into subfolders of Active, On Hold, and Abandoned. I'm definitely not working on 79 different fics right now. Now, am I hopping between 5 or 10? Yes. Do I have some "finished" fics in here that I might never post? Also yes. Are 2 of these fics actually finished and posted fics that I will be moving to my finished fic folder right after this because they shouldn't be in here? Yes the third! Anyway this is super long so I'll put it under the cut but yeah here are my theoretical WIPs, in order of when I last edited them.

Tagging @dithorba @mrmissmrsrandom @sunshades @basil-does-arttt @whitebeakedraven. Five seems like a much more reasonable number. Hopefully my memory is not failing me and you guys do write fic, but if you don't or would rather not share, no worries.

D/C Confessional

Qliphoth [and Copy of Qliphoth, and Qliphoth Redo]

second time's the charm

Flare VrEs

Clean

FFIV WEEK

Sparda Return

nero early adoption

effigy

Grub

Geryon V3 [and Geryon Outline, Geryon Outtakes, and Geryon]

Vergil TT

dmc ancient au

son's blessing

Ease

Stand-in MV

captive

fV remembrance [and Copy of fV remembrance]

Nelo 2

Mundus Rescue

Nelo Angelo's thoughts on Dante in DMC1

Untitled document

Drabbles - XIV Azemeteor

Raider

Sundae on Spardas

Forgetting / Vergil

Nidstinien

Estinien Drabbles

"Leave me be,"

XVI TT

first brood

Estimeric Week 2022 [there's a multichapter fic inside of this document that's sort of ongoing]

Seat of the Archbishop

Copy of ysenne garden 1 [and ysenne garden 1]

Vrtra Estinien stay

Eric Athena

Azem Meteor

Estimeric Week 2022 [Also has a multichapter fic inside of it!]

Rejoining Fragments [and R. Frag outtakes]

Marriage

Copy of Long AE [and long AE]

marriage nsv

Sleep

To me my knights

dimidue

Fic: first brood

jultena short

Outlines for FFXIV Fics

Estysayle

seteth

overlook side story - outlook

grief for the un(familiar)

[somehow my college honor's thesis made it into my fic WIP folder huh???? can you tell I never clean this out, I graduated 2 years ago]

"Are they not men most sweet, my dear brother

violence

Nid fic notes

obsess/adore

Throne Replacement

Various Fic Outlines

Aymeric Tempering

blood contract

Ysenne

Bygone

blessed

AE Replacement

Airship

Hum

shades

Alberic

Wyrmblood

Guilt and Rage

assassination

Touch

Admiration

Painting

ManaBy

Dimi Long v2.1

Fics

R&R Updated Party [but ironically not the actual fic itself, just the notes for the fic. the actual fic has its own folder]

[not-terezi-pyrope]

How did you get into AI (and maybe compsci more generally)? I'm curious in part to know more about your background, but also because I'm interested in getting into it as well

Huh, big question.

Well, I got into compsci via programming and pretty young. I mean, I was always interested in computers as that's the field my dad works in and his excitement for games and hardware transferred. I was particularly into source engine games from his influence, which lead to me being super obsessed with Garry's Mod when I was 10, and when I was 11-12 ish I discovered the "wiremod" logic mod for that, and was instantly entranced building robots and mini-computers in game. Initially that was by hooking up discrete logic gates, but then I discovered that there was an entire full-featured programming language built into the mod as well, and teaching myself that while playing the game after school was how I learned to program.

I wanted to take that to some non-gmod contexts as well, and so I learned a bit of Java via "Greenfoot", which was/is(?) a library and web community for building little 2D Java games, popular with kids and teens. I actually won an iPod in a Greenfoot coding contest when I was 13. I carried that interest in programming through school, where I did computer science at GCSE and AS levels, then after a brief foray at studying film for less than 6 months, picked up programming as a proper hobby again when I was 19, and went to do a Computer Science degree because I was transparently so much better at programming than I was any of my arts stuff, lol. It's uniquely compelling and fits right in my brain the way nothing else does.

The AI interest mostly comes from fiction, again from pretty young. Portal (another source engine game) was one of my favourite games as a teenager, and I spent a while in Garry's Mod building my own automatons and autonomous robots, and creating wiremod bots that could talk in chat, respond to commands, do some basic statistical language analysis, pretty much figuring it out just off the top of my head.

That interest in artificial intelligence lead to me following the field pretty loosely for a while, and I discovered transhumanist thought in my late teens, and was interested in simulating cognition more specifically as it related to subjects like mind uploads, but I didn't get super into AI as a discipline until I discovered the first online GPT-2 demo in 2018 and read the associated papers. I was like, "oh, fuck. This is like nothing we've ever had before, this is going to change the world, I am fascinated by this and I should try to get in on this now". That lead to me focusing on AI for my undergraduate thesis and then later for my master's degree. I would be working in AI now, if I hadn't entirely failed to find any good roles, and also, if I am honest, if the online conversation around and backlash to LLMs and so forth hadn't soured a lot of my initial enthusiasm, which makes it hard to stay fully up to date with the field. My current job is more general IT work with some programming sprinkled in.

Because the sad thing is I was absolutely right, three years before anyone outside of computer science noticed, in predicting that attention transformers were going to completely upend the tech field and how we interact with computers. What I got wrong in my naivety was thinking that people would respond to that in a good way. Instead it's mostly been distrust and revulsion, which in some respects is understandable, and in others is really sad, especially given the potential that was and is still there. But I worry that this idea that AI is the domain of conniving capitalist techbros is fast becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy as everyone who genuinely cares about social issues (I count myself among them) is driven by an almost overwhelming tide to divest themselves from anything that has the whiff of a neural net about it.

I am at least partially resisting for now.

[mairon-goth-minion]

As you read the whole ass master's thesis I'm about to send you, just remember you asked for it okay??

I'm not going to link the other two posts I made to people who let me yap about this cos you liked them both already and I'm going to assume you're not so completely obsessed with me that you blindly like my stuff xx I'm going to assume you read the other things I said already cos that's easier XD

SO NOW! I offer you my thoughts on the rosier twins angst this fic is gonna have >:D

Okay so Tom Riddle hacked the apocalypse simulation so that whoever went in completely forgot that they lived outside of the simulation at all ever. Very evil very bad.

BUT! The real stab in the gut is that Evan went into the simulation and Pandora did not. So Pandora remembers her twin brother and their childhood and all they've been through together when she goes into the sim with james and the rest to stop it, but evan doesn't remember any of ittttt. And he may or may not get some memories back, but until then he's just stuck with this strange and confusing mix of emotions for this girl who looks just like him and who he thinks he's never seen before.

meanwhile, pandora night not have known that the people in the simulation had forgotten everything (maybe I have to work that out logistically to see if it'll work story-wise). So she's excited to finally be able to see her brother again, but when they finally meet he's different than she remembers cos of the trauma of living in an apocalypse, and he doesn't even know who she is.

and to TOP IT ALL OFF i plan for there to be a little while in the beginning where reg's group who were in the sim are pretty wary of james' group cos they've never seen them before and don't trust them. so not only does evan not know who she is, he's possibly borderline hostile to her the first time they meet

AGH! but the moment later in the fic when someone or something is attacking Pandora and she's going to die cos she doesn't think anyone will come to save her?? and then evan comes in and freaking ANNIHILATES the thing and just goes like "don't fucking touch my sister"??? IT'LL BE SO GOOD

so yeah, there you go 🤘shorter than i thought honestly but it's 3am so i blame that

@yesiamprocrastinating you were interested in this too, so here's some more thoughts :D

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE ITTTTTT

I adore angst, and Rosier twins agnst? Count me innnnnnn, and protective Evan gaaaaaaaaaah

[thylacinx]

Introduction :)

So, uh, hi! I thought it would be a good idea to actually introduce myself here! I'm a 27 y/o Dutchie and go by Thy on the internet. I reserved this little corner of the internet to ramble about my writings and some other nonsense. For years I have been dabbling in writing short stories, poems and have written plenty a text for my studies, but recently my friends finally convinced me to start taking writing a little more seriously. So, uh, I guess you can call me an aspiring author? Someday, hopefully. Unless a thesis counts, in that case it would be a sorta-author to be?

Some (boring) facts about me

As a kid I always was obsessed with fantasy and that melted into a love for all things Gothic and occult. You can guess what I like to write about.

In my day-to-day life I work a very boring corporate job in finance (yes, it is a soul-crushing as it sounds) and as a(n) (unpaid) PhD-candidate. Besides that I keep myself busy with editing for friends and uni, as well as proofreading works. Somehow also ended up being part of multiple councils for a variety of things. Idk how that happened either.

My free time I usually spend with my cat, Grogu, with friends or writing/drawing. I also love going to the gym, but rarely find time to stay consistent. Oh! I also love baking, it's never pretty, but taste's pretty good (at least I think so).

I would coin myself an extravert! But a very, very shy one as I have crippling social anxiety heh. So please feel free to reach out and say hi if you ever want to talk! I'm not the best at starting a conversation myself, do not want to bother anyone.

And, uh, I have about 25 tats! Including some very small snp that a friend and I did ourselves.

My writing

Currently I am working on 4 projects, which should melt down into 2 novella's, one stand-alone and a trilogy in collaboration with a friend!

They will all have queer-normative worlds (nothing straight about me and neither will my writing be); different ways of coping with trauma and life; hope against all odds; morally grey and flawed characters; mostly older MC's.

The Drako Saga

High fantasy trilogy that I am writing with a good friend. Multiple POV's written by different authors. Setting out a whole new fantasy world that will expand to a multiverse containing individual projects. Poly- and queer rep, very morally grey characters and will contain smut.

House of Storms Novella (working title)

Prequel for one of the characters from the Drako Saga. Thaddeus is the heir of a very powerful fae family. His life is settled and before he gets his adult name on his 100th birthday he refuses to take life too seriously. What else is near immortality for? When he unexpectedly is roped into the mechanics of his House, he discovers that life might not be that easy and that perhaps he might not be in the graces of his gods. What price are you willing to pay to make sure your immortality is not hell?

The Sin of a Smile (working title)

Stand-alone book set in the Drako Sage universe but thousands of years in the future. Biblical themes in a fantasy setting. A guardian angel, Floreayn, is cast from the heavens for having emotions as it is deemed an imperfect human quality unfit for angels. After his fall he is taken in by a powerful demon who uses his divine assets for her own gain. When Floreayn notices things going very amiss in the human world his loyalty towards the heavens or hells is questioned. Would god even listen to a fallen angel? Or does his silence mean something more?

Fem Rage Novella

Novella, still the roughest draft from the bunch. Raised in a household where conspiracies mixed with spirituality take the place of religion, the MC thought she had finally escaped into a normal life after marrying her husband. When her estranged father passes, the task to clean out the old house befalls on her. Confronted with the black-outs of her youth and ideas she long has supressed, she might uncover some dark secrets. Within the house, but also within herself. This will be a Gothic-horror novella questioning the ideas around the feminine, body-dysmorphia, overlooked abuse and will contain lots of rage.

If you've read this far, thank you!! I will not bore you any longer. After posting this I will probably think about a 100 things I should have added here but, thank you for reading!

Lots of love, Thy <3

[fivveweeks]

Stumbled upon ur tragedy verdante thots.. do u have some more to spare my liege.. obsessed with verdante as a bus stop on the way of their respective journeys… also for this I’m assuming this is with og!dante being unknown to versillius? sigh hm anyway yeah really thinking! Abt requited but situation of it all .. just not being fit for it! Wowzies *takes a drag of ze blunt*

(opening my thesis paper) "a bus stop on the way of their respective journeys" and "requited love but the situation of it all is just not being fit for it" are both incredible ways to summarize my thoughts on verdante being a tragedy GAH

and actually! i do cook this with the idea that vergilius knew pre-clocked!dante and that at worst he either fucking despised them or at best his annoyed indifference towards them. then bam, current dante being SO different and actually is so compassionate and genuinely kind and he doesn't know what to do about it

bc how should he feel when someone you knew who was an asshole turned out to be so... nice. the knowledge that without the city grinding them down dante is actually so kind at their core. at the same time the tragedy of the kindness being torn out of pre-clocked!dante from that. does it count as taking advantage of them when they lost their memories from before? is it hypocritical of him to agree to their... arrangement with that in mind? he's so goddamn guilty about it lmao

don't get me wrong tho Vergilius isn't an asshole to dante for the sake of being mean. nah, if you think about it so far in canon he actually has never gotten pissed at dante before. even when he's threatening them at the start he's just doing his job to kickstart dante into reviving the sinners. and hell, his asshole level to dante afterwards is mostly like, sarcasm and his refusal to give dante any straight answers. he's mostly just an exhausted guy to me lmao

what i LOVE is exploring just how emotionally constipated they are (both of them) and their incapability to properly communicate without being cryptic yet at the same time they've agreed to a colleagues with benefits arrangement that sometimes is domestic if you squint. they're both so funny to me i want to beat them up so bad

[a-swiss-and-a-spaniard]

9 people to know better...

Thanks for the tags @yoellglia, @kingfisherprince & @schumi-nadal (who deserves an extra shoutout for reminding me to answer this with her latest tag!)

LAST SONG: anywhere but here by PVRIS

FAVOURITE COLOUR: any shade of blue, particularly dark ones

CURRENTLY WATCHING: Nothing(? I guess I watched the 24 hrs with Roger videos that came out a few days ago… does that count? If we're talking series/films here, then nothing. The last series I finished was Fellow Travelers and it emotionally destroyed me, so I took a break. I'll probably be watching some feel-good show next to balance that out

SWEET / SAVOURY / SPICY: I'm gonna scale it ✨spicy✨> savoury > sweet. Not to play into stereotypes but as mexican I really can't live without chili lol

I can enjoy sweet stuff but in very small quantities bc I get sick of the taste

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single. I don't think I have the time or energy for anything serious right now. My life is a bit of a mess at the moment and I just want to finally get my degree 😭

CURRENT OBSESSION: Then again, nothing. I've been pretty normal about stuff lately, even tennis. Idk how long that'll last though, we'll see

LAST THING YOU SEARCHED: a ton more references for my thesis/degree project and some Casper pictures from the Acapulpo final bc I want to draw him when I have some free time

I'm tagging anyone who sees this and feels like doing it bc I'm pretty sure most tennisblr has already been tagged and answered a while back lol

[briarborealisocs]

favorite niche piece of media? elaborate.

ok i don't know exactly how niche this is but my favorite movies of all time are both like. not extremely popular so

ok my two favorite movies of all time are tied and it's the prestige and the count of monte cristo (2002)

so. the prestige. it's a story about two magicians in 1890s london. they hate each other. they hate each other so much. i can't even explain the movie without giving anything away because it's an absolute masterclass in foreshadowing and well-earned plot twists. it's sort of a mystery but not really. it's DEFINITELY a drama. it's the world's greatest revenge story. it's about hatred and obsession and how they ruin your life. it's about magic. it's about humanity. it's about not believing the obvious answer even when it's right in front of you because it's too simple. nikola tesla is there and plays a major role in the story. it's a frame narrative with three levels - you're watching the story of a man reading a diary about how that diary's author was reading the first man's diary. there's a murder trial. the plot twist is so well earned. it's a million times better on the rewatch and i catch a new detail every time i watch it. the cinematography is absolutely gorgeous. if you're paying attention you can catch the biggest plot twist 10 minutes into the movie but no one ever does, which is in and of itself the thesis of the movie. michael caine plays the best character in the movie. i think everyone should watch the prestige

the count of monte cristo (2002) is the most recent(?) film adaptation of a famous classic french novel by the same name. it's ALSO a revenge story. it is probably the most satisfying revenge story ive ever seen. the absolute catharsis of watching the main character's revenge plot come together and get executed flawlessly is like doing straight heroin. napoleon bonaparte is there and plays a minor role in the story. there's a scene that makes me cry. if you asked me what love looks like i would point to that scene without hesitation. richard harris plays the best character in the entire movie. there's several extremely punchable men. they all, in fact, get punched. henry cavill plays an entitled rich 16 year old boy with daddy issues. the pacing of the story is phenomenal. my favorite scene in the movie involves a hot air balloon and an absolutely pimpin outfit, complete with cane

i love these movies so much. the prestige i watch when im in the mood for like an insane drama but the count of monte cristo is just a feel good "sit back and relax and eat some chocolate" movie

[webslingingslasher]

hiiii - 🤍 here

I LOVE YOUR NEW THEME!

but you know what i love more than the theme? CHAPTER 2!!!

I SCREAMED. I DIED. I NEEDED A DAY TO RECOVER. i was SO EXCITED AHDSJKAKJ

first of all, christine. i liked her at first, then she annoyed me bc why is she fucking the guy trouble wanted to fuck. especially KNOWING they were hooking up? fuck off. even tho trouble didnt care it pissed me off djfjkdjkd

THE BEGINNING MENTION OF TRENT MADE ME SO EXCITED bc i read the prologue and had NO idea what was going on. like? are trouble and trent secretly hit men? what is going on. I WAS SO EXCITED AND YOU DELIVEREEDDDDDDDDD. peter RISKING IT ALL FOR TROUBLE ON LIKE, DAY 2 OF KNOWING HER is so real. and he acts like he doesn't care. puh-LEASE!

NFDJKHDSHFJKSHJ NO J IM SO FUCKING EXCITED ADHJSAHDFDKSHKJFSDH IT WAS SO GOOD!!!! THE KISS? ARE YOU INSANE? IT LEFT *ME* BREATHLESS. I WAS SCREAMING. I STILL AM FDHJKFHSJDKHFJDS AHHH BABY TROUBLE AND PETER🥹🥹🥹 im crying. reading this knowing how far theyve come makes me cry bv its fr BABY TROUBLE AND PETER. i love that shes always been delusional. she's just like me <3

ALSO OH MY GOD. PETER PROTECTING HER????? BEING THE HUMAN SHIELD IN BETWEEN TRENT? J I CRIED. I SCREAMED. DFUIDSHJKHJFKGSDHKJ IM SO FUCKING EXCITED. hes so mmmm so sexy! i love (1) one man. only one. maybe two if we count ethan.

SPEAKING OF ETHAN - peter wanting trouble so much he fr gets annoyed at ethan for thinking hes trying to get with her??? ARE U INSANE. I KVDJSKLFJKS. thats his brother for life but he wants trouble so bad, suddenly he cant think straight and is like puffing out his chest when ethans there. i giggled at the taylor swift mention. djsjkfksl

THE WHOLE THING WAS SO GOOD STIOFGJFDIOGD

trouble high is my fav thing. its also making me think ab intox kink with peter but i wont go there rn

her not needing a trip sitter is so iconic but peter was def watching her every move incase she needed one and would pretend he wouldn't.

“Want my advice? Parker is your best bet.”  why was this so hot. im so down bad. like. its shocking. im obsessed

also using rice water bc of christine now.

ally is the cutest bestie.

“Funny. When I asked she said she had no plans.” 🤭 if you saw my face when i read thidshsjkshdjf

“She’s cool. You know, witty, kind, pretty…”

“She’s difficult and entitled.”  I SCREAMED J. I SCREAMED. i wanna film live reactions to me reading the next chapter bc i swear i screamed and giggled and threw my phone across the wall twice (the screen cracked but there's a screen protector so its okay)

“You saw her first, it’s only fair.” It’s tiny, and it’s a microflash, but Peter grinned. HAJGHJGFDKSHSAJKHJSKAHGJ

JSDJ HDJSFKHSD J I WANNA KEEP GOUNG BUT THIS IS GONNA BE SO LONG IM SORRY. IM OBSESSED WITH EVERYTHING U WRITE ADHJSAHJSA.

ethan saying she wants water and her being like omg i do! SO CUTE.

I could write a thesis statement on peter doing that shot with trouble vs ethan saying no. and i think i will. he's SOOOOOOO- DHJFSJKSHDS

him calling her princess🤭🤭 changing my name to princess brb. he was actually talking to me, j. you got it confused. he wasn't talking to trouble <3. me <3.

i hope trent dies. can we kill him later? just a lil poisoning in the cathedral hall, nothing major <3

him saying she isn't totally insufferable🥹🥹 bare minimum i know but from peter thats basically an "i love you"

“You’re a fucking dick.” 

“Yeah, and you just wanna stick yours in her.” If he wouldn’t be at grounds of expulsion from the frat, Peter would’ve laid him the fuck out right then and there. “Shut the fuck up, Simpson. Just leave it alone.” He does, and throws the door open before parting you with a middle finger.  I CRIEDDDDDD

him calling her freshman after ignoring her after kissing her hurt my feelings but then he breathed or smth the next line and i was like ahh <3 forgiven.

i could go on and on and on but '‘big brother season.’  made me dfjkksd

I LOVE IT SO MUHCSJHDSJ

- 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

THE THESIS YOU JUST WROTE ME IM-???? LET ME SEND YOU A DOLLAR FOR THIS OR SOMETHING??

this actually makes my heart SWELL UP cause like... wow. this means the world. im over here giggling and throwing my laptop at the wall w this!!!

[swordatsunset]

Yayayay got tagged by @obeetlebeetle in a get to know me game I love this shit

Last song: Famous Blue Raincoat by Leonard Cohen, song of all time and also on my orv playlist because I’m insane lol. “You’re living for nothing now I hope you’re keeping some kind of record” etc etc

Currently reading: omniscient reader’s viewpoint volume 4 👍🏼. I’m dying. Otherwise I’m rereading Ishiguro’s “The Buried Giant” and Cohen’s Medieval Identity Machines for my thesis. And am paused on White’s Queen of Air and Darkness as well!

Currently watching: oh god I haven’t watched TV since I finished the bear s2… I am watching the beautiful rain from my window . I am watching cooking videos.

Current obsession: if u all couldnt tell by the state of this tumblr it’s well. It’s orv. Does my thesis count as an obsession. It’s taken over my life so. And fallen London perpetually and forever is in my brain. Building a train to hell takes a lot of time 🫡

Ummm tagging @marsjoram @rozecrest @knittedbond