#has nobody ever heard being super tired described as feeling like youre about to pass out

[m00ngbin]

I feel like barf and I spent a bunch of time stress studying for a bunch of exams that are two months to a year away so I can't say that my commentary is going to be spectacular and everything that these next two chapters deserve but by god I'm going to try and that's all that I really need to do anyways

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter XVI: Adsumo, Claim

Previous Chapter (XV: Vetus Flamma)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz) ft younghoon and eric

Genre (by chapter): drama, angst

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

“i knew i wasn’t the person you needed”

kim young hoon.

you remember the way he always offered to carry your bag or books, though you were well aware he’d rather not. 

younghoon was always known for his cold, aloof demeanor. 

that is, until you start talking to him. 

the first time you met younghoon, this strange feeling of queasiness and anxiety wrapped itself around your stomach, and it really wasn’t great timing when it was right after a full meal you decided to stuff yourself before extra class. 

being at a buffet just a few days earlier had literally poisoned your blood and your system; it was just hidden for this period of time.

so when the food you had for lunch poured out through your lips because of the food poisoning you were yet to be made aware of, only to land on younghoon’s shoe in school, it would’ve been the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you.

if you hurled on lee hyunjae, you would’ve been happy to be be diagnosed with food poisoning. 

but this was kim younghoon. 

his popularity was matched with lee hyunjae though he was nowhere near as intelligent -- or scheming.

girls around him started shooting you looks of disgust and low whispers of you being inappropriate or inconsiderate began to drown your senses out.

the regurgitation also forced out a lot of your energy, and your legs were slowly turning into jelly with every passing second. 

but before you could make a second stumble that would’ve allowed gravity to pull you into the concrete floor, younghoon holds your arm and keeps you upright. 

watching him crane his neck down and lower his back to see your vomit painted chin was both reassuring but terribly harsh on your pride. 

“are you alright?”

the loss of ego keeps your head hung low, and he takes it as a sign that you really weren’t feeling well.

ignoring all the girls staring at him dragging the smartest girl in school across campus to the medical bay was such a sight to behold, even for lee hyunjae. 

you wish you could’ve seen it for yourself from a third person perspective. 

not many people were aware of your little crush on younghoon, but you were always too busy trying to outdo lee hyunjae to even spare a second to day dream about him. 

sometimes you felt shallow and materialistic for choosing younghoon to wear your emotions on, since you haven’t really spoken to him. 

but if he didn’t know, it didn’t matter. 

there was an expectation for younghoon to stay clear of you, especially when you were already known as one of two areses in school. yet younghoon found reassurance in that, in the way you stood out from the crowd against your will.

younghoon’s face and personality did it for him. 

your competitiveness and ability to be the only person who could stand up against lee hyunjae did it for you.

lucifer had the best of both worlds, which made him all the more hate-worthy.

younghoon’s choice to invest in your friendship with him came as a surprise, but it felt like sunrise after a long night. 

for six years you’ve been wasting your energy on proving yourself better than lee hyunjae, so having younghoon becoming both a source and and outlet for your energy to channel to and from... 

it was nothing short of magical.

there was absolutely no way you could’ve forgotten the satisfaction that filled your lungs and your heart when the school found out you were dating the kim younghoon. 

you never really figured out why it was such a shocker, though you were pretty sure the school was just surprised you chose kim younghoon, a not-so-smart student, in comparison to your must-top-the-class persona.

most of the time spent with younghoon was either spent tutoring him or having nonsensical conversations with him before you slept. those were the times you felt relaxed, you felt loose, you felt like you didn’t really need to win.

there was nothing to win anyway, not with younghoon at least.

you had convinced yourself that younghoon was sick and tired of your never-ending battle with lee hyunjae, one that drove a scandalous picture of you and the lab teacher all over the internet like it was a freeway. 

younghoon must’ve known that the picture was just edited, for the teacher never got into trouble for it, only mild investigation.

but at least he was smart enough to save himself from the walking fire of fury, that was you, and he used this chance to run.

love was never really a priority in your life until younghoon came along, so even when that beautiful, flowery garden part of your life had gone, your priority naturally fell back on beating lucifer at his own game.

or a game that the both of you thought was a great idea to start. 

love was just a fickle thing, and all it did was to make you weak.

and if you were fighting ares himself, you had to be your best ares.

ares is not weak. 

ares is brutal and cruel and you had to be just that in order to beat another. 

sitting across younghoon, five years later, in your favourite cafe with the evening sun disappearing behind the buildings of the city, felt like a fever dream.

a dream you yearned had happened five years ago, not now. 

two bowls of soup and a bowl of truffle fries get served to your table, and younghoon thanks the waitress with a slight nod. the waiter recognises you, so she just gives you a small smile.

younghoon being the gorgeous man he is, catches her attention again, and you smile at your food when you felt her reluctance to leave the table.

“i must say,” he hands you a soup spoon after checking it for shitty cleaning. “i have high expectations for this chowder.”

“i just had this yesterday,” the pepper bottle shakes in your hold. “surely that must mean something?”

the slightly amber lamp dangles above your table, and the heat from the lightbulb was making the skin on your nose and forehead feel warm despite the early autumn wind gushing about outside. 

the pillars inside the cafe make it feel like you were in a warehouse, so every time someone appears behind a pillar and walks somewhere in your sight, younghoon would always look up to see if you were looking at anybody you knew. 

there was a bell hung on the door of the cafe near the cashier’s counter; which was located behind the wall you were sitting against. 

the sound makes you wait for someone new to show up in your span of vision, and if nobody appeared, you’d know that they ordered takeaway. 

“how’s working at the hospital? i heard you say you’ve been working with uncle for about a month?”

“i think it’s about five weeks or so, yeah,” the tiny circles of oil on the soup gets pushed around while you stir it, and younghoon adds pepper to his serving after tasting the truffle fries. “it’s alright... i mean, it’s just everything i expected.”

“so, no surprises?”

surprises.

“oh,” a snort runs through your throat as you take one mouth of your soup. “there was one big surprise--”

“lee hyunjae?”

the name strikes a chord in you, and you weren’t too sure why. 

“god must hate me to put me in the same room as him... we started working for the hospital on the same day, and his office is right next to mine.”

“huh,” younghoon hums, blowing on his spoon of soup before having it. “you must’ve been really upset when he showed up.”

“‘upset’ isn’t a strong enough word to describe how much i wanted to shove a pen down his throat. consider disgusted, angry, furious, disappointed, resentful, hateful--”

“should i be worried you work in an environment where those feelings should not be involved in--”

generous laughter escape your lungs and younghoon’s smile encourages you to return to your food.

“but otherwise, it’s a blast. i love my patients, i love my mentors and the nurses and the colleagues-- they are all so endearing and patient.”

he nods while chewing on the ingredients in the chowder.

“what about you? what are you doing now? i mean, we haven’t spoken in five years.”

“i’m a salesman, guess i figured out a way to use my face to the best of my ability.”

“oh, god,” a chuckle rings in the air between you as you dip your spoon into the bowl again. “that must’ve worked in some magical ways. has anybody tried to get your number?”

“do i really want to answer that when you already know?”

a cheeky smile greets you when you look up from your food, and you shake your head when you realise you could still read his eyes the same. 

“i don’t suppose you’re romantically involved in anybody now?” he asks. there was an absence of... care and concern he used to have back then. 

he wasn’t nonchalant about it, but you could tell that five years was adequate for your relationship with younghoon to turn completely stagnant. 

there was no longer any hint of love in it, even if he did still care for you.

he could still love you, but if he was, he was doing a damn good job at hiding it. 

but that question. 

what does ‘romantically involved’ really mean to you?

on one hand, you believed your heart belonged to the lovable, enthusiastic intern who was going to leave in about three weeks. 

yet your body resigns itself to another man, one whom you’ve hated nearly half your life, the same man who took younghoon away from you, even if it wasn’t completely his doing. 

“uh... define ‘romantically involved’.”

younghoon looks at you with slightly furrowed brows and confused eyes, sending one piece of truffle fry into his mouth.

“...it worries me that you had to ask that. i’ll rephrase it; do you have anybody you’re interested in?”

“well, there’s this really cute intern working at the neuro-research department.”

“intern? he’s younger?”

“age is just a number.”

“fair play.”

the jingle of the bell hanging on the entrance door rings gently, and your eyes travel down to the soup.

“he’s super enthusiastic and there’s just something about him that’s so... comforting. i see him and i think about nothing but sunshine and warmth and laughter. he’s just... so cheerful, compared to whatever i’ve been used to.”

a pause, and you look up at younghoon, your peripheral vision not seeing anybody walk out from the wall you were sitting against.

“he sounds like someone you really want in your life. i’ve known you long enough to know what kind of person you’d might be attracted to. i guess the man’s lucky enough to have attracted someone with a complete opposite personality.”

eric’s face comes to mind, and your heart starts to do tiny flips when you recall the way his eyes fold when he smiles. the warm rumble of his voice when he speaks. the harmony that he sings when he laughs.

“that sounds strange, doesn’t it? we kissed at a party once and--”

“you kissed the intern?”

“it was at a party and we were all slightly drunk--”

“i don’t recall the last time you had enough to be drunk--”

“let me live, younghoon!” you feign a hit across the table, and he chuckles softly, dodging your little attack. 

the bell rings again, and a teenage couple walks in this time. 

“frankly, i am surprised about one thing,” half his bowl was empty now, and you reach over to jab at some fries with a fork.

“what is it?”

he pushes his air out from his eyes and presses his fingers into his cheek, leaning one elbow on the edge of the table. 

“that you didn’t end up with lee hyunjae.”

the scoff that came out garnered the attention of that young couple, but you couldn’t care less.

“lee hyunjae? of all people, why would you think--”

“because he’s the only one who was ever able to be on the same... pedestal as you.”

pedestal. potential. day one. 

“without him, i don’t know if you would’ve pushed yourself so hard. i know you always had a thing against your parents not spending enough time with you, i thought you’d break the tradition of becoming a doctor because of that.”

“yeah, well...” the chowder calls out to you. “hyunjae or not, i would’ve become a doctor anyway.”

silence. 

it drags on long enough for younghoon to finish nearly the rest of his soup, and there was a weighted feeling of... fear in your chest.

your heart was thumping, though not at a fast pace.

eric’s smile was floating around in your head, but the way younghoon looked at you when he said that name planted a seed inside you. 

you worry for awhile if that seed meant anything at all.

“y/n, i have to be honest with you about something...”

the truffle bits melt in your mouth as you sit back.

“i didn’t dump you because i believed you were with the teacher.”

“oh,” a gentle giggle exits through your lips as you lean forward to get another fry. “i know that. you dumped me because you were sick of me always at lee hyunjae’s throat and we were always fighting--”

“no, i dumped you because i knew i wasn’t the person you needed.”

the muscles and nerves in your body halt, and your eyes slowly travel up from the fries to his. 

“and i highly doubt this intern is going to be it either.”

the words come together in your head, but they felt so alien on your tongue.

“but you just said that he’s someone i want--”

“i was not what you needed, and he isn’t either. you want him, but you need someone else.”

a gulp pushes itself down your throat and your temples tighten as you pull away from the bowl of fries, and your eyes return to the bowl to finish whatever was left in it.

“i’ve got no clue how neither of you saw it, but there’s literally nobody else better for the two of you than each other.”

your lips either remain entertaining the spoon that was travelling in and out of your mouth, or pursed so tight, you cut off the blood circulation to them.

“the only reason why the two of you could do so well in school was because you had each other to push both ends. i had my fair share of interactions with lee hyunjae, i’m well-aware of the kind of person he is when he’s not trying to get one score higher than you, even when you’ve already scored full marks.”

“do you still want the rest of the fries? i--”

“y/n,” he pulls the leftover fries away from you, and you hiss childishly at his move.

“so don’t listen to me, but you’ve been avoiding talking about lee hyunjae for the last twenty four hours and believe me when i say this, if this was five years ago or any time before that, you wouldn’t have missed a second trying to convince me that he’s the shittiest person on earth.”

“maybe i just decided he’s not worth my time--”

“so why were you wearing a male’s dress shirt yesterday?” 

oh, fuck.

“it could’ve been someone el--”

“and the foundation on your neck doesn’t do much under this lighting, especially since it’s been a long day for you.”

your face was heating up not because of the lamp above the table, but the fact that younghoon was able to see right through you.

even you couldn’t see through yourself.

“but whoever said it was him who di--”

“there’s literally nobody who would have the damn guts to do things like that to you besides him. i’m pretty sure not even your sunshine intern would do it if he’s as cheerful as you make him to be.”

stop.

“if it’s anything i learnt about you, it’s that you wouldn’t let a man do anything to show that he claims you.”

please stop talking.

“but someone’s gone ahead and did just that... and when i heard uncle talk about a doctor lee yesterday, it just... hit me.”

stop. talking.

he finally stops and returns you the fries that you no longer had the appetite of finishing. 

“so, it wasn’t hyunjae. you haven’t said one bad thing about him since i saw you yesterday. tell me that if this was you five years ago, you would’ve done the same.”

i wouldn’t. because i hated him.

the silence starts to eat you out when the confusion sinks in even further. 

why must he say all those things to mess you up even more?

there was nothing he said that wasn’t true, though you wished you could flat out deny everything.

but he’s seen it all without even telling him anything, and you start to wonder if it’s been there all along, but you chose to ignore it.

all you wanted was an aphrodite, but why does she seem like she’s drifting further and further away?

by the time younghoon returns you back to the safety of your house, he was well-aware that the conversation from before had some effect on you, for he pulls you into a tight hug after walking you to your door. 

his scent wafts through your nose and you shut your eyes to take it all in. 

what would it have been like had hyunjae not torn him away from you?

then again, younghoon was the one who tore himself away from you on his own accord.

“call me if you need anything. anything at all.”

he releases you, hands still on your shoulders. 

“i’ll still love you the way i always did, but i know for a fact that i’m not the one you need in your life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter XVII: Et Universum Parallel

A/N; welcome to hell guys this is where shit starts to roll i hope you guys are ready cause my ass isn’t LMAO. 

[trensu]

Episode 14: The One where LWJ Sings to WWX, y’know, Like a Bro

WE’RE STILL IN THE BEST CAVE IN THE WORLD GUYS

AND WE START OFF WITH ~THEIR SONG~ PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND AS LWJ GENTLY WAKES UP.

And first thing he notices is that he woke up with his forehead ribbon on his forehead where it’s supposed to be (it’s right there in the name) 

Wwx: oh yeah, i put it back on you while you were sleeping. I know how nervous you get when you’re not wearing it.

DID YOU HEAR THAT?

DID YOU?

HE PUT IT BACK ON HIM TO SPARE HIM ANXIETY

(You can't tell me that LWJ does not low-key have anxiety. Nobody's that much of a stickler for rules without being constantly anxious about breaking them. That's just facts)

Also, lol, the minute lwj wakes up, wwx is all “ah, must be 5am.” HE’S KEEPING TRACK OF TIME WITH LWJ’S SLEEP HABITS LOLOLOL

Now wwx and lwj are talking Important Escape Details

Wwx: yeah, went back into the pond and it looks like the Murder Turtle blocked off the escape route

Lwj: you shouldn’t be going into the pond with your injury

Wwx: i’m not that delicate!

And then he turns it around and asks lwj how well the medicine was working on his leg (it’s all better now, i guess?? idk he seems fine now. wq’s medicine is MAGIC)

BECAUSE THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER

Here we learn the official name of the Murder Turtle

Lwj: it’s like a xuanwu but not

Wwx: xuanwu?? *proceeds to describe what he knows about it*

Lwj: *is impressed and surprised*

Have more faith in your soulmate lwj. He reads! Sometimes! When it’s important!

Wwx: aren’t xuanwus supposed to have sharp teeth? Like Grrr

HE MAKES THE MOST ADORABLE GROWLY FACE I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE AND MAKES THE CUTEST GROWL SOUND AT LWJ. AHHHHH!

But also, he’s disappointed that the xuanwu didn’t have sharp teeth?? WWX, THE THING TRIED TO EAT YOU JUST YESTERDAY. BE GRATEFUL IT DOESN’T HAVE SHARP TEETH

Wwx: it doesn’t even matter what it is! It’s a big monster and if we kill it we’ll be Big Damn Heroes

So EXCITED and EAGER and he has this MISCHIEVOUS LOOK ON HIS FACE. Obviously he’s suffered brain damage

Wwx: and, ah, if it kills us, it’s okay bc it’ll be an AWESOME death lol

Lwj just stares at him LOL

His face is like, “this guy? This is the guy my heart decided to fall for?? Really???”

Okay so now they’re being all sneaky and gathering up bows and arrows that surround the pond and then they go back and get to work on fixing them and preparing for battle

We get to see lwj practicing the chord assassination technique like a BADASS

They come up with a plan!! Wwx will go into the Murder Turtle’s shell to coax him out of it so that lwj can then, idk, decapitate it with his Killer String.

(that’s...not how actual turtles work, but bc this is a magic murder turtle, i figure the rules don’t apply)

AHHHHH

LWJ DOES A THING

So obvs since wwx has to go inside the shell and lwj has to stay outside the shell they gotta communicate right and Ancient Fantasy China does not have good cell reception

Wwx: listen to me

And with that verbal cue, lwj does this thing that makes his fingers glow with spiritual energy and then taps wwx’s forehead which then has a little burst of the glow for half a second.

And TA-DAH! NOW THEY’RE PSYCHICALLY LINKED!!! 

THEY’RE SOULMATES AND NOW THEY’RE PSYCHICALLY LINKED YOUR OTP COULD NEVER

It must be a link that only lets them hear what the other wants them to hear otherwise wwx would’ve found out lwj is smitten with him right there and then, omg, that could’ve saved us so much heartbreak later on

But we’re not gonna think about that right now bc i don’t want to short-circuit my keyboard with tears

YUCK, wwx is inside the Murder Turtle’s shell and it’s SUPER GROSS

EVERYTHING IS ALL RED

THE FLOOR’S ALL MUDDY AND GUMMY

THERE’S LIKE, FLESHY ROPES HANGING EVERYWHERE

DISGUSTING

Wwx: ewww, it stinks so bad i wanna puke *chokes back bile*

BE STRONG WWX, YOU CAN DO THIS

And now he’s bumped into some dead bodies 

WHY ARE YOU PUTTING YOUR FACE SO CLOSE TO THE DEAD BODIES WWX, THAT’S A TERRIBLE IDEA. YOU WERE JUST COMPLAINING ABOUT THE STENCH 2 SECONDS AGO, AND NOW YOU’RE SHOVING YOUR FACE IN IT???

Oh noooo, now he’s found the Screaming Sword of Resentment that screams bloody murder at him

He grabs it and stabs Murder Turtle in the face which makes Murder Turtle mad enough to get out of the shell

We’re going to continue to ignore the bad cgi and ridiculously over the top fighting moves

...and the way he floats horizontally(??? somehow??) as the Murder Turtle tries to shake him off

My poor bb is hanging on for dear life while lwj does his Killer String thing

I LOVE LWJ’S DETERMINED FACE HERE!!

His brow is all scrunched up and his mouth gets all pinched and firm. SO DASHING LAN ZHAN, GO SAVE YOUR SOULMATE.

But oh no! The resentful energy pouring from the sword is getting to wwx!

Uh oh, I did not like the look of that grin on wwx’s face

that was NOT HIS MISCHIEVOUS GRIN

THAT WAS A MALEVOLENT GRIN.

I DON’T LIKE IT

STOP THAT WWX

BE A GOOD BOY

Lwj shouts his name, he’s so worried!!

And now we see wwx use resentful energy for the first time ever!!

In a badass move he starts levitating all the abandoned swords and staffs that littered the shore AND USES THEM TO STAB THE MURDER TURTLE IN THE THROAT

SO COOL, SO COOL

Murder Turtle flops over dead and takes wwx down with him INTO THE POND AND WWX IS UNCONSCIOUS!! NOOOOOOO

Lwj, ofc, rushes to his side as soon as he hits the water and rescues him

He gets him out of the pond and takes him to dry land

Lwj: wei ying, wei ying! Wake up, wake up

GUYS, THIS IS THE MOST EMOTION WE’VE HEARD IN HIS VOICE SO FAR

HE’S REPEATING HIMSELF FOR GOODNESS SAKE

HE OF FEW WORDS GOES ON TO REPEAT HIMSELF TWICE OVER

HE’S FREAKING OUT

Oh gross, we cut to the Evil Wen’s lair 

C’mon nobody cares about whatever’s going on there. Get us back to the important stuff!!! I am Done listening to evil wens ranting

AHH WE’RE BACK IN THE CAVE WITH OUR BOYS!!

WWX REGAINS CONSCIOUSNESS!!

Wwx: lan zhan, is it dead?

Lwj: yes

Wwx: yes? (he says weakly, in disbelief, MY POOR WWX)

Wwx: is it dead? (why’s he repeating himself, WWX ARE YOU OKAY??)

(I mean, obviously he's not what with the murder turtle thing but I don't think he can afford to get more brain damage at this point)

Lwj: yes, it is.

Oh and now wwx is telling lwj about all the screaming voices he heard from the sword and asks him if he was dreaming those up

LIKE HE’S NOT TRUSTING HIS GRASP ON REALITY RN OR SOMETHING!!

AND HE’LL ONLY TRUST IT IF LWJ CONFIRMS IT FOR HIM

BC HE TRUSTS HIM AND THEY’RE SOULMATES!!!

Lwj reassures wwx that he did not dream up those screams

(Somebody should probably check him for a concussion,jic. I mean those screams were real THIS time but you never know!!)

(Maybe concussions don't exist in Ancient Fantasy China, idk)

Wwx is all pale and shaky!! MY POOR WWX!! Lwj is rightfully fussing over him

He lets out a weak laugh (BC THAT’S HIS COPING MECHANISM, DIFFUSE THE SITUATION WITH HUMOR, MY POOR WWX) and is like “who knew that one day i’d get to see the 2nd jade of lan look so worried?”

IT’S BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU, WWX, YOU DENSE IDIOT

Lwj doesn’t respond but he does look away briefly LIKE HE’S AFRAID OF WWX SEEING SO MUCH EMOTION ON HIS FACE

AAHHHH, LAN ZHAN, IT’S OKAY, DON’T HIDE AWAY LIKE THAT!! I PROMISE WWX LOVES YOU TOO!!!

WWX: lan zhan, i didn’t think i’d survive this

He whispers weakly AS HIS BODY IS STARTS TO TREMBLE LIKE CRAZY

Lwj: wei ying, you have a fever

And then he brings wwx’s wrist close to start pouring in some spiritual energy

SO GENTLY, WITH SUCH DEDICATED CONCENTRATION

BC HIS WEI YING IS HURTING AND HE WANTS TO MAKE IT STOP

AAHHHHH

WWX: that’s so soothing lan zhan

Oh jeez, the way he sounds when he says that...

And omg the way lwj looks in the blue glow of the spiritual energy transfer

AS IF HE DIDN’T ALREADY LOOK LIKE SOME SORT OF HOLY DEITY, HE’S LEGIT GLOWING NOW TOO

WWX: how boring...why hasn’t jc showed up to rescue me yet?

Uh, rude much? Lwj is right there

AND HERE WE COLLECTIVELY LOSE OUR MINDS BC WWX ASKS LWJ TO SING TO HIM!!!!!!!!!!

AND LWJ STARTS TO SING TO HIM!!!!!

AND THIS IS WHERE WE GET ~THEIR SONG~ ACKNOWLEDGED BY THE CHARACTERS FOR THE FIRST TIME BC THAT’S WHAT HE SINGS TO WEI YING

AND WHILE HE SINGS, WE GET GIVEN THE MOST WONDERFUL OF ALL FLASHBACKS. 

IT IS A COMPILATION OF ALL THEIR IMPORTANT MOMENTS TOGETHER SO FAR

THEIR MOONLIT ROOFTOP SWORD FIGHT!!

THEIR COLD POND CAVE MARRIAGE!!

THEIR BUNNY LANTERN!!

BASICALLY EVERYTHING I’VE BEEN SCREAMING ABOUT THESE PAST 14 EPISODES

I’M LITERALLY TEARING UP

I CNA’T TAKE IT

MY HEART, MY HEART 💕💕💕

THEY’RE SINGING ~THEIR SONG~ AND I’M DYING OF FEELINGS OVERLOAD

Also, jfc, there’s no Heterosexual explanation for that flashback sequence…

Wwx: it sounds so nice, so nice, what’s the name of the song…?

AHHHHHH!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

LWJ TELLS HIM THE NAME OF THE SONG!!

!!HE PRACTICALLY CONFESSES HIS ETERNAL UNDYING LOVE TO HIM

AND WWX HAS TO FUCKING PASS OUT BEFORE HE HEARS IT GOD DAMN IT

IT’S LIKE GETTING COCKBLOCKED, BUT LIKE, EMOTIONALLY WHICH IS SO MUCH WORSE  WTF

And when wwx wakes up again, he’s out of the cave!

But instead of seeing lwj’s godly visage, he wakes up to that peacock jzx and is like “you??”

Jc shows up!

Wwx: where’s lan zhan?

Jc: he left

Wwx: he left?? But he’s still injured!!

Jc: so is everyone else!! And he went back to gusu so…

Wwx: but he--

Jc: A THANK YOU WOULD BE NICE

Jc: IT’S NOT LIKE I TRAVELED WITHOUT REST FOR 7 DAYS TO GET HELP AND RESCUE YOU

Now we got to go through Plot Things

We’re at Lotus Pier!! (where wwx proceeds to pass out again!! Get used to it guys, he does this a lot)

Then the yunmeng sibs have a beautiful moment together

Okay, we’re gonna pause here BC WWX IS SO FREAKING ADORABLE??

He gets all pouty and asks jyl to clean his face for him bc his arms are too tired and jyl does it bc she loves her brother

AND HIS ADORABLE FACE

HIS SO CUTE ADORABLE FACE WHEN SHE CLEANS HIM UP

I CAN’T I CAN’T

IT’S TOO MUCH

HOW IS THIS GUY AN ACTUAL PERSON THAT EXISTS 

Lol, wwx is like, i wish you’d been there in the cave with me jc, lan zhan almost bored me to death

What a liar, lol

Like he wasn't completely enraptured by LWJ's presence the ENTIRE TIME

Oh yikes, we’ve got some screwed up family dynamics in the Jiang Family courtesy of m-yu and jfm.

For the sake of my sanity we’re gonna gloss over that

Now that the parents stormed off, wwx does his best to console jc (bc his parents, double yikes)

Now watch me as a break down sobbing when wwx makes A PROMISE HE WON’T BE ABLE TO KEEEEEP

I’ll be your right hand man, he tells him. Gusu has the twin jades, but yunmeng will have twin heroes, he says

(WHY MUST YOU HURT ME THIS WAY, SHOW, WHYYYYY)

After wwx says those things about the twins, he looks up at the sky wistfully and asks jc “do you think we’ll ever see them again?”

“Them” he says, like he’s not completely talking about just lan zhan

jc’s like how the heck would i know???

And we end the episode with wwx still gazing at the sky, dreaming about his lan zhan

I mean, we don’t see it, the dreams or thoughts or whatever, but we kNOW IN OUR HEARTS THAT’S WHAT HE’S DOING

This was a Very Heterosexual episode. For that I give it 10/10 stars. I would watch that flashback sequence with him singing over and over and over and over and over and ov--

Return to Masterpost

[galaxy-starheart]

29, 34, and 89 for all of your OCs? 👀 (If you want to)

Im only gonna do the ones ive been most focused on lately because i have So Many OCs, but if u want any other ones feel free to send the ask again 💕

ALSO. i read 29 as 23 and didnt realize until after I answered, so the first group of answers is a bonus!

23. Do they get lonely easily?

Delta: Being a bit of an extrovert, Delta definitely gets lonely fairly easily. When he's on long trips or something alone he tends to pass some of the time by talking to friends on the phone so he doesnt start feeling too isolated. He loves his friends so much!

Nadia: She doesn't get lonely easily at all! She's very much an introvert and likes to have time alone when she can. She loves her friends and family but sometimes she just needs to vibe on her own

Piper: Honestly she's not alone very often at all, so she enjoys a bit of alone time but at the same time feels weird being alone for too long because she's not very used to it.

Caleb: I wouldn't say he gets lonely often, per se, but he's plenty happy being around other people most of the time. Maybe he's an ambivert? I don't know

Rory: He's lonely more often than not, so like. He does get lonely, but he's so used to it he doesn't really mind it all that much?

Sammy: He's the personification of Nobody by Mitski

Elodie: Honestly I haven't thought much about her yet, she's a new oc, but I think she probably doesn't get lonely super easily. She prefers being alone (or like. She prefers the company of animals to people).

29. How would they describe their own personality?

Delta: Delta would say she's cheerful, friendly, and maybe a little annoying

Nadia: Nadia would describe herself as plain, nothing special really.

Piper: Piper would tell Nadia she's a liar, and also say that she herself is easy-going and friendly

Caleb: Caleb would just say he's chaotic

Rory: Rory thinks of himself as a shitty and dangerous person

Sammy: Sammy would say he's nice but a little awkward

Elodie: Elodie would describe herself as confident and a bit of an asshole

34. How easily do they trust others with their secrets? With their lives? 

Delta: Delta has no secrets. They're very much an open book, and they're incredibly trusting. They 200% trust Nadia and Piper and all their other friends with their life, and it doesn't take them long to befriend people.

Nadia: Her anxiety can make it a little hard for her to trust people sometimes, but she does try her best! She trusts Piper and Delta more than she'll ever trust anyone else.

Piper: She's a fairly trusting person, but finds herself hesitating sometimes if she gets The Wrong Vibes from people

Caleb: ^basically the same as Piper, but maybe a bit more critical of the vibes

Rory: He will keep all his thoughts and emotions right here and one day he'll die (but like if you know him hes accidentally really transparent)

Sammy: He has a select few people he trusts, and it's possible to gain his trust but it takes a While. That is. Unless he has a crush on you. In which case he trusts you. He knows automatically trusting people like that is a problem because he's been hurt by trusting the wrong person several times, but he can't really help it.

Elodie: Trust who? Never heard of her.

89. What is their D&D alignment?

Delta: Chaotic good

Nadia: Chaotic good

Piper: Chaotic good

Caleb: Chaotic good

(^the wholesome family hakhdjh)

Rory: Chaotic neutral

Sammy: Chaotic good (or just. Chaotic tired)

Elodie: Neutral evil

[mynameisdreartblog]

Romantic Composers 2

Leo: Johann Strauss II. I’m gonna prank-call a Domino’s in San Juan, give me a minute. «Oro, we’re in the middle of the sea, I doubt there’ll be a good enough connection or a cell-tower near enough to let you-» <Sudden static is heard, and a gruffy voice comes on.> «Este es el Domino’s; ¿Qué te gusta probar nuestro nueva pizza stuffed-crust?» <Oro gives an impossible look at Viz, implying that he never doubted himself, but that Viz was a total moron for doubting him.> Yes, I’d like a, uh… <Oro’s eyes begin rapidly scanning the environment for clues.> Anchovies… Pineapples… A Hawaiian pizza, basically: That’s the mellow flavor I’m feeling today. «¿Algo más, señor?» Oh yes, I’d also like those marble brownies for a dessert, and an Orange Crush for the drink. <Viz wonders how Oro is able to receive a cellular connection in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico.> That should be it… Oh no! «¿Señor?» Augh! I fell off this pier, and I think I’m d-drowning! Please, send someone to help; I can’t swim! «¡Mierda!» <Viz watches Oro kick his feet through the water, making very convincing splashing sounds. He then begins to produce fake choking sounds, leaving the Domino’s worker quite terrified.> «Why did I ever agree to come out here with you.» <Viz punches the makeshift sailboat the two are in, startling Oro and causing him to drop his phone.> Viz, what the hell? I still had 3 gigs of data left on that thing! «Data? It’s a flip-phone. Smart phones haven’t been invented yet because they’re a science-fiction concept, dipshit. Now you have some terrorized soul in an island hundreds of miles away from here.» Actually, he’s at the bottom of the ocean. «Don’t speak to me again, I swear to God.» […] <The scene of the discord fades away as we peer into the bottom of the ocean, where we find the phone there, still on call. The voice rings out and says:> «¿Crees que está jugando conmigo?» […] Man, wouldn’t it be hilarious if I did that? <We cut back to reality: Oro is sitting in the front seat of his banged-up truck, killing time while Viz lays half-conscious in the back.> «That’d kind suck. I mean, who’s gonna be on the ocean? Nobody’s that stupid: The ocean’s big and scary.» You and me both, but don’t deny that isn’t hilarious. «Heh, I did appreciate the joke about the phone at the bottom of the ocean: You were setting that up miles in advance.» [,] Shit, am I getting a phone call?

Taurus: Frédéric Chopin. "The automobile is perhaps the only invention that is at once phallic and womb-like. As columnist George Will once remarked, “the real reason for progressives’ passion for trains is their goal of diminishing Americans’ individualism in order to make them more amenable to collectivism.” While his comments are laughable for a number of reasons, collectivism as a goal (or even a word) smells of Cold War-era mildew. Will does hit on one truism: Humans love cars to an irrational degree." Hmm, that’s a very interesting think-piece you have here. But tell me, why should I care about Americans and their car-culture? I hike up here every day, and when I have to travel lower, I take a moped like everyone else. Though, mine’s bigger for obvious reasons. «Don’t blame me; I just put the papers on the table. Those crazy op-ed writers will publish just about anything to get people’s anger brewing.» You’re right… The morning’s been quite inactive though, and I just wanted something to talk about. Heaven knows I talked about every trinket in this place. «You can try talking about the cuisine, specifically how I can learn from you. That’s just something you’ve been stubborn about lately, and maybe this boredom is just the karma of that.» I knew you’d say that, but you need to realize that my cooking is something you can only experience, never narrate. I let things speak for themselves a lot, and I never found a purpose in taking down notes that do nothing but become clutter later on. <Bodhi whispers to themselves> «That’s the guy I know: Always asking you to live out things fully because understanding things holistically is better than growing personally.» [,] You whisper too long but also too sweetly. Please keep doing it until we have a customer coming so I can feel like there’s some activity here.  «Bullheaded as always.» […] <Gresham takes a meaningful sip of tea, it fails to burn his old throat, but can punch through the atmosphere to reveal a friendly puff.>  A lot of the time, I’m tired of being so cynical: Where’s the room for being clumsily sincere? I have to refuse making money by telling dirty jokes or other obscene things like, ugh, phone usage. <Like he never said, he’s not too old, it’s that technology doesn’t catch up to him for his liking.> [,] The window is just soothing enough to warrant not cleaning it yet, but I don’t wanna get another tourist complaining about how they don’t have the best mountain view. Whoever sits here will have to learn how to appreciate the fault… I’m complaining to pass the time again: Not a healthy habit, Gresham. […] Nothing strange, just a nice day: A little foggy though.

Aquarius: Giacomo Puccini. How would I describe the graphical style of the game Little Red Hood for the NES if I were to use persistent, geographical allusion? Well, I’d say that it’d be like what would happen if you tried to translate the geography of Afghanistan onto 8-bit graphics hardware, particularly how it appears near a strong river like the Helmand: It provided that Galilean backdrop that so many directors used in their films about Christ. Now, that’s what I did think back in my flawed memory of the game, but now that I look back at it again, the landscape is definitely more inspired by that of Florida, particularly around the parts where sawgrass is heavy and palm trees are native, but it’s not a tropical landscape per se, nor is it an entirely swampy one. It’s particularly the presence of palm trees that struck me as confusing, because my brain has always associated the odd, yellow colors of its groundwork to that of a renovated Pacific area, but the game proves that it doesn’t use the palm trees throughout the entire game. But the opening levels still confuse me because the story of Little Red Riding Hood that the game’s based on originates in various parts of Europe, and the foliage we see in the opening act doesn’t reflect that of any European landscape. It could just be an artist interpretation in the case of making the presentation of the game think you were in a Pacific island or near the heartlands of Okeechobee, but I think it might’ve just been a case of “not giving a shit” as they say. There’s more to talk about with how my brain subconsciously linked my flawed memories of the game’s graphical presentation with that of the riverbanks of the Helmand; I guess I just wanted to prove my initial biases and not examine how the game doesn’t even commit to even my ideas whenever I think of Afghani scenery, but maybe even those are failing to catch up with the fact that there’s so many different aesthetical implications within the vastness of the nation of Afghanistan that, uh, I don’t know: I just like Afghani landscape. Have this picture of a village in the Bamyan desert. [,] «Aukai, what the hell are you talking about? I’ve been eavesdropping back here since you started and I still don’t understand.» I’m t-trying to paint this scene in my head, but I don’t have my tools to do it, so I’m thinking loudly about it. «…Whatever.» […] There’s no doubt in my mind that he’d make a great tamer: Our protagonist of this beautiful world, now ravaged by corruptors that his world has gone to hell for trying to stop. He’s the only one who can control the beastly and brutish forces of the corruption that infests his world. <The one earlier who was questioning Aukai opens her door and holds out a hand full of paint-brushes.> «Here, take these, please. I liked you better when you were quiet.» <Aukai is insulted and satisfied.>

Pisces: Franz Liszt. I’m fucking devastated: My favorite rap-battle channel on YouTube just deleted their channel. Not only that, all of their social media accounts are gone. They had such great works as "Goku vs. Rick Sanchez", "George Washington vs. the Invisible Man", and "Luigi vs. Slenderman." I don’t know if I can keep going the same route of content consumption knowing that the only ironic rap battle channel deleted everything. «Hold on, your favorite video-channel on the Internet was ironic? I don’t think I’m getting this, Maggie.» Let me explain it: It was good because it didn’t take itself seriously. For a while, that was it’s niche, and certainly other creators arose to copy it, but they were always the first. «So, is this like, some independent person making all of these or is there an entire network of people collaborating to create this music?» You’re right the second time: They used to be part of this collaborative effort to make these videos, but the guy I like, in particular, broke off from the bigger picture. Now, their content is what I like; I haven’t seen the uploads by the other creators ’cause it’s not really the same experience, is it? «That’s crazy… and they just deleted all their content after how long they’ve done this for?» I’ve been following it for a year, but they were their most active near October. [,] «You actually have me interested in their music now. I mean, I know you can’t play it anymore, but do you at least have backups or remember how some of them went?» I think I have backups, but I know some of these by heart, man. What I’m trying to say is that it’d be far better if I could recite these to you than if I just played them. «So, what you’re saying is that you don’t have any backups?» Do you have any backups, or do you wanna see me recite some of the best lyrics you’ll ever hear? «Let it rip.» [,] "I got the Dragon Balls; I’m gonna win. I’m gonna eat your pickle, Rick. Oh wait, SHIT! Your mom licked my Dragon Ball(z); I’m just Super Saiyan. Kamehameha, I ain’t playin’. Rick Sanchez always wanna start drama; don’t make me do Dirty Sanchez on yo’ mama! I bet your only comeback is you making a burp. Rick Sanchez winning? Stupidest shit I’ve ever heard." At this point, Rick Sanchez would offer up his verse to Goku, and his verse goes something like "thirty-thousand witches in Goku’s house! God isn’t real; I touched Bulma’s blouse. I got like, seventy more episodes with Morty, and being with Morty just makes me real-" «Stop, this is way more awful than I expected.» Well, I’m the only one you can get these bars from, and now you’re saying you don’t want them? I don’t have to recite them. «You have backups; you lied to me earlier. I don’t care about them now, but look: You got potential outside of just reciting those bars. Maggie, you got your own talents.» I’m not a lyricist, but thanks. «You’re a poet, that’s one-or-two steps away from being a lyricist.» I rapped purely for the purposes of recitation; I don’t know what you’re getting at. «Nah, I’m convinced that only you can write something this absolutely… passionate. You made up this entire channel, this entire guild, this entire deletion scandal: You made it all up so you can kickstart your career.» I’m not- Okay, we’ll roll with it this time. [,] Yeah, I’m starting my own rap battle channel in the wake of the one that deleted itself. «Are you gonna cash in on the ironic rap-battle market or are you trying to be more sincere with this?» Of course it has to be ironic! I’m following in the master’s footsteps thanks to you, and now I can’t disrespect his legacy. «That’s cool, but it’s not enough: You gotta make it one of those ARGs.» ARG? «Like, some game of Clue you send your audience on to discover interlinked details that seem to form a bigger picture but end up getting nowhere, and it’s all for the purpose of promoting your brand.» Oh, I see. I can include like, hints in the middle of the jokes in the verses, and I’d make an entire fictional universe of followers that leave behind clues. «No, you don’t even have to do that: Just get a random mugshot, make up some believable names and accredit them to your project, get some weirdos on a message-board to write about it for you, and you’re set.» …If you’re gonna be this disheartening, I don’t wanna continue with it. «That’s not what I meant!»

[wonwoosthetic]

He Thought The Ice Changed Him, He Was Wrong || Steve Rogers

MASTERLIST

WHO I WRITE FOR

First of all, I want to thank @coffeebooksandfandom for the idea of the title of this imagine, as I was struggling to find the perfect one :) <3

I just want to clarify that I don’t write any smut scenes, so in this imagine the friends-with-benefits relationship is being mentioned, but not described very specifically.

I’m not necessarily happy with the title of this imagine - any suggestions? Please!

Thank you so much for the request, I hope this is somewhat how you imagined it :)

I’m seriously living for Age Of Ultron Steve Rogers - he looks so freaking good in this movie OMG!

Request by Anonymous: Okay, so know I was hoping if you could write about Steve, were the reader and him start some friends with benefits relationship but reader has real feelings for Steve and heard him when in Age of Ultron he said that the man who wants a relationship and settle down stayed in the ice, so the reader now is depressed and start to get distant for Steave but then he notices and realizes that he loves the reader Like a lot of angst with a happy ending Sorry if it's very specificHope you write it

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: none

“The Guy Who Wanted All That Went In The Ice 75 Years Ago”

Steve and you became close in the last couple months. Very close. Closer than you ever thought the two of you would get. BUT, you had stayed friends – well, let’s call it friends with benefits. It started at Tony’s party and got really serious as you stayed at Clint’s farm when you had to share a room. The both of you decided on sleeping with each other without any feelings – but you were far off that. During your stay at Clint’s house, the feeling you had had for Steve ever since the party, grew. You didn’t want to tell him anything about it because, to be honest, with what you had at that moment was quite fun and ruining everything by telling him that you love him will potentially end everything. The only person to know about your ‘special’ relationship with the Captain was Natasha – you told her right away, she would have found out anyway. But, not only did she know about the two of you, she got curious about the way you had been talking about Steve, so then the agent also found out about your actual feelings towards the blond.

You had never thought, you would ever be in a position like that, where you would be torn apart between having a fun no-strings-attached relationship with a super soldier and actually being in love with him. But you being you, decided not to tell him, the feeling was yet there and a glimpse of hope as well.

--- After The Happenings Of Age Of Ultron ---

You were training with some of the agents at the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters – jumping jacks, sit-ups, push-ups, running, and a lot more. That day, you hadn’t seen Steve yet. After last night’s event in your room between the two of you, he must have gotten up early. Every soon-to-be agents and actual agents were dressed in black workout clothes, including yourself. All of you were running around, down one of the streets that were surrounding the building, as you were just about to pass Thor, Tony, and Steve. The God of Thunder raised his hammer and got sucked up into the sky, making everyone in your group stand still and watch the burned stain in the grass which he had left.

The star-spangled man and the playboy kept on walking and talking as you slowly walked past them, slightly out of breath, hearing just a tiny bit of their conversation – but it sure was enough for you.

“Well, it's time for me to tap out. Maybe I should take a page out of Barton's book”, Tony joked “Build Pepper a farm, hope nobody blows it up.” “The simple life”, Steve commented. Tony tried cheering him up “You'll get there one day.” “I don't know. Family, stability... The guy who wanted all that went in the ice 75 years ago”, the Captain answered honestly “I think someone else came out.”

You stopped in tracks. All the hope you had left inside of your body – gone.

Tony noticed you standing still, while all the other agents ran off “Hey, (Y/N), everything alright?” Hearing your name, Steve turned around. You snapped back into reality “Hm? Yeah-yeah… Bye”, you waved them off and started catching up with the rest of the group. “Bye, (Y/N), I’ll miss you!”, Stark shouted after you.

You ran. Ran as fast as you could, overtaking everyone. You had to clear your mind, everything was going way to fast. Suddenly you found yourself in the woods, in front of a narrow creek. Stopping to catch your breath, you noticed how dark it had become and you started asking yourself ‘How on earth did I end up here?’ Quickly, you got yourself back together and started making your way back to the headquarters from where you would head off to the Avenger’s Tower. While you walked and jogged there, you had had a lot of time to think about what had happened before. Although you and Steve decided on keeping it at a friends-with-benefits relationship, feelings couldn’t help but start forming inside of your body – you hadn’t felt those feeling in quite a while, if not never. You knew an actual relationship would maybe not work out, but that ‘maybe’ was what had kept you going – believing that maybe one day, the two of you would live together in a small house, maybe a big one, together… as a couple, married, with kids… You had always dreamt of three… three kids, with Steve’s blond hair and possibly your (Y/E/C) eyes… Two boys and one girl, possibly two girls and one boy, but all boys or all girls, uff. No, the main thing would be them being healthy children. Who are you acting for? This would never happen. The blond hero had just clarified that the man who wanted a family and stability disappeared 75 years ago. That was it.

--- The Next Day ---

You woke up at 5 a.m., very early. The sun was in its process of rising, so you decided to start the day and got up. After making your bed, you opened your door quietly and tiptoed into the kitchen, ready to make a good breakfast. No one was up yet, so you thought. As you entered the kitchen, you dragged your body right towards the fridge, taking out eggs and milk as the cold ingredients for some pancakes. You got everything else from the cupboards above you. The breakfast was frizzling in the pan as you started hearing very silent footsteps and suddenly two arms hugging your waist from behind and putting their chin on your shoulder.

“So, I was thinking… maybe we could disappear for fifteen minutes?” Steve whispered into your ear seductively. You wriggled out of his grip and walked past him to the fridge to grab the orange juice box. The super soldier looked at you confused and taken back. “So?” He didn’t let go of the subject. You started acting oblivious “What?” He gave you a weird look “Could you leave the pancakes alone for fifteen minutes?” “No.” You simply answered, avoiding eye contact. A long “OK”, left his mouth as he exited the kitchen to go back to his room.

--- A Bit Later ---

After you had finished your breakfast, you thought that it might be a good idea to work out when nobody (besides Steve) was up yet. You quickly changed into some workout clothes in your room before heading off to the gym you had in the Avenger’s tower. As you were boxing and sweating, a body made its presence in the room, making you turn around. “Morning Bruce… what are you doing here?” The tired scientist looked at you “I saw someone was here and just wanted to make sure you were alright, because jeez, it’s only six”, Bruce explained. You smiled at him “Thanks for your concern, but I’m very well.” He nodded “Alright… Well then”, he was about to leave, when he turned around and came over to where you were standing “I also wanted to tell you about what Tony and I have been working on. So,-“, and he started talking about all of the cool new experiments he and the Iron Man were doing at that mo. You had stopped boxing to concentrate on his stories when suddenly a silhouette appeared in the door

“Oh, sorry, i-“, the Captain was just about to leave, when Bruce interrupted him “No, no, Steve! You can come back in here, I was just about to leave.” “Yeah, me too”; you passed Bruce and were about to walk through the door when Steve grabbed you by your upper arm “Can we talk?” He looked you deeply into your eyes. You gave him a death glare “No.” And walked away.

You got inside your room and jumped into the shower in your ensuite bathroom. The hot water made you able to clear your mind, thinking about how to avoid Steve in the best way possible… or maybe the best way to ‘break-up’ with him. Nothing came to your mind. Nothing. The tall blond was important to you - too important. He had stolen your heart within weeks and hadn’t let it go just yet. You can’t just call things off with him, everything would turn incredibly awkward and unbearable. After washing our hair and body, you got outside of the shower and put a towel around your wet body. In your room, you walked over to your dresser and decided on your outfit for the day to be a maxi flower skirt and a loose t-shirt you tied at the rim, accessorizing it with a couple of necklaces and bracelets. You took a look at the clock hanging on your wall and saw it was already eight a.m., so most of the Avengers should already be up.

Walking back into the living room, Natasha passed you “Hey, (Y/N)”, she grabbed your arm “What did you do with Steve?” You gave her a confused look “What do you mean?” “He seems to be quite a bit pissed off and annoyed”, the agent explained. “Oh, and that has to do something with me”, you rolled your eyes annoyed. “That’s not what I said, I only thought it could be.” “Yeah well, I don’t know and don’t care”, you admitted and kept on walking.

As you entered the living room, Tony and Laura were sitting on the sofa chatting “Hey, Laura, what are you doing here?” Clint’s wife stood up and approached you “That’s just the way I want to be greeted”, she joked. You smiled at her “You know what I mean.” She hugged you tightly “I know.”

“Yep, good morning to me as well, thanks”, Tony made himself presented himself. After the two of you separated, you turned to Tony “Good morning, TONY”, you greeted him sarcastically. He gave you a proud smile. Taking a seat on the sofa, you accompanied the two adults and started talking to them. “But seriously, what are you doing here, Laura?” “The kids wanted to see their favourite heroes again”, Laura admitted just as little footsteps were able to be heard from the hallway. “(Y/N)!!!”, the two little Barton’s screamed and ran up to you – you stood up, kneeled down and hugged them. “Oooh, guys, I’ve missed you”, you told the two. “We’ve missed you too”, the little princess said as she leaned back to look at you. The kids started telling you all about what had happened ever since you left the farm when Tony had to give another remark “I’m here as well, you know… why the heck does everyone ignore me today?”, he threw his arms up as he stood up, to go over to the bar on the other side of the room.

During your pleasant talk with Clint’s kids, another presence made it into the room. You looked up and, of course, saw the last person you wanted to see at that point. “Uncle Steve!”, Cooper and Lila ran into the super soldier’s arms. “Hey, little ones! How are we?”, he sympathized with them, before looking up to see Laura and me on the sofa “Good to see you, Laura.”

You didn’t want to be in the same room with the tall blond, not being able to look at him without hearing his statement over and over again ‘I don't know. Family, stability... The guy who wanted all that went in the ice 75 years ago. I think someone else came out.’ ‘I think someone else came out.” ‘Someone else came out.’

Before tears started forming in your eyes, you got up and excused yourself “Sorry”, and walked back to your room, leaving Laura and Tony concerned, and Steve wondered what he had done wrong. The moment you reached your room, you opened the door, walked inside, closed it behind you, and threw yourself onto your bed, letting the tears just spill out – there was no stopping them. You were crying for a good ten minutes before a knock happened on the other side of your door. Trying to ignore the person didn’t work out since they kept on knocking “What?!”, you asked annoyed. “Can I come in?”, the voice of the Captain echoed through the door. You didn’t answer, thinking that he might walk away, but he didn’t. The door opened, and the blond super soldier entered with a concerned look on his face. “What had been going on with you?” No answer. “(Y/N)… you’ve been acting weird all morning, tell me”, he demanded. Still no answer. “Come on, I’m serious. I can’t just let you sulk here, not knowing what happened.” You quickly straightened up and looked him deep in his eyes “You want to know what my freaking problem is?!”, you screamed into his face “It’s you!” His facial expression screamed shock. “I can’t talk to you, or see you, or even think of you without my heart breaking into a freaking million pieces because you are the reason!!!” You let all of your frustration that had been building up ever since yesterday, out. Trying to calm yourself down and get the words together, Steve’s eyes started filling up with tears as well, seeing you suffering so much because of him. “I-I… I just… I d-I don’t want… I don’t want this… anymore”, you finally admitted. “What is this?”, the soldier’s voice was trembling slightly. “THIS!”, you brandished your hands around “This! All of this! Us! Whatever this is between us! I don’t want it!” “I asked you months ago and you agreed”, he stated. “Yes, but… n-not… not anymore”, you looked at him, tears running down your cheeks. Steve approached you slowly, you kept your gaze low “What is it that you want?”, he asked with a soft voice. You didn’t know what came over you, but you let everything spill “I want an actual relationship, a serious one. I want to go on dates and laugh with the person I love”, you took a deep breath “I want to celebrate the smallest holidays like Valentine’s Day and each others birthdays. I want to have a family, a dog, kids, a house, with the person I love…I-“, you were about to continue when he interrupted you by taking your hands in his “And who is that person you love.” Your complete tears covered face and red eyes looked up to him, lips trembling, unsure if what you were about to say would be the right decision. After taking another deep breath, the answer was about to come out of your mouth… but you just couldn’t. You tried avoiding his gaze again. Steve grabbed your face gently “Why didn’t you tell me?” “What was I supposed to tell you? You don’t want that…”, you sniffed. His eyebrows furrowed “What makes you think that?” “Oh, please, Steve… I heard you and Tony. The man that wanted all that went in the ice 75 years ago. A-and… and another c-came”, you couldn’t even finish your stuttering – Steve pressed his lips onto yours, his hands still on your cheeks. Taken back, you slowly started kissing back. After the passionate kiss, filled with love for each other, you separated to look at each other’s tears filled eyes. “That guy came back when he met you.”

----------

Credits to @coffeebooksandfandom for the amazing title, LOVE IT :)

Guys, HELP, I can’t put any more gifs in this post - why not? I tried everything and it just doesn’t work :( Please help

Thank you so much for taking your time to read this, I hope it was worth it! :) Also, a big thanks to the person to request this, I’m so sorry, I took so long, but I still hope you enjoyed it.

Please ignore all of the spelling and grammar mistakes I made ;)

Hope you all have a wonderful day/night :) <3

[imagine-darksiders]

Sorry to bother you,but I'm gonna be stuck in the hospital overnight with a super swollen face :( could I get Draven trying to cheer up a sick friend?

Oh no! That sucks! Well, I hope this makes you feel a little better. But if it doesn’t, treat yourself to some ice cream. Good for swollen faces, or so I’m told x

—

It had been Ostegoth that told Draven of your condition, one uneventful day in the Eternal Throne. The old goat didn’t seem too urgent though, which set Draven’s mind at rest, though he was still anxious to see you after hearing the news. 

When he took his request to the Lord of Bones, the king was so taken aback by it’s nature, he actually considered granting it. 

“In all the years you’ve served me,” he wheezes suspiciously, tapping his long, claw-like nails against the throne’s armrests, “you’ve never once expressed a desire to return to Earth….So, why now?” 

Impatiently gritting his teeth, the Blademaster crosses his arms and gives a defensive sniff, swiping a hand quickly beneath his nasal bone. “Y/n’s sick,” he mutters. 

Almost immediately, the king’s cold, dead eyes light up with recognition. “Ahh! I see,” he chuckles darkly, stroking his thin, pale-green beard thoughtfully, “Then, perhaps desire does play a role here…” 

Draven stiffens and scowls deeply but he refuses to give the Lord of Bones any more ammunition - he gets enough grief from the other guards about his friendship with you - so he holds his tongue. For a long time, the throne room is perfectly silent, save for the stale desert wind that moans through the large, open archways set into the far wall. 

At long last, the Lord of Bones peels himself from the throne, dislodging centuries of dust with a sickening crackle of old, skeletal remains. He leans forward to level a long, gnarled finger at the Blademaster warningly. “You have one day,” he growls, “just one. So make it count. And don’t forget to whom you belong…..” 

Stiffly, Draven bows, backing towards the door. As he turns to stalk past the guards, he hears the king call after him. “Oh, and Blademaster?” 

With an elaborate roll of his pale eyes, Draven peers over his shoulder, half turning to face the undead ruler. “Yes, my Lord?”

Sneering, the Lord of Bones reclines back into his seat with a contented grunt. “Do give my best to Y/n, won’t you? And be sure to mention that, should this sickness prove……fatal-” Draven’s fists clench violently at the barely concealed hopefulness in his tone “- there is always room for one more soul in my Dead Court.” 

‘Over my rotting body,’ Draven wants to growl. Instead, he nods sharply, turns and throws the doors open a little too aggressively. Infuriated as he is with the king’s remark, he’s equally glad that he’d been given leave to visit Earth. A whole day to spend with you. He just hopes Ostegoth is right and whatever illness has afflicted you, it isn’t too serious. 

—

Draven stands in front of the enormous, concrete building, jaw slack and eyes wide in unashamed wonder. 

When Ostegoth described where and how to find you, he mentioned that this place was called a ‘hospital’, and as Draven walks hesitantly through the strange, glass doors that seem to have a mind of their own, he can’t help but to feel a little out of his element. 

Earth really has changed since he was alive. 

It’d been only a few years since humanity was resurrected and already the resourceful little species has rebuilt itself nearly to its former glory. It seemed that the eradication of their whole planet had put some things into perspective and people decided that restoration takes precedence. A lot of humans had become Wicked after their passing, leaving behind the far purer, ultimately good-hearted souls to populate the Earth. 

It soon becomes clear to Draven that despite humans now being both aware and used to other species walking around their planet - angels, makers, constructs and even the horsemen - something gives him the impression that Earth isn’t frequented by undead. Any human that’s seen him so far has either stopped in their tracks, mouths agape, whipped out a phone to take a picture of him, or they’ve simply turned around to scurry off in the opposite direction. One poor woman had turned a corner, took one look at his semi-exposed intestines and promptly dunked her head into a nearby bin and started heaving. 

That one stung a little…

He’s made painfully aware that his image is probably made even stranger by the bunch of flowers that Ostegoth had hastily stuffed into his hands, informing a clueless Blademaster that ‘one simply cannot visit a friend in hospital without bringing them a gift.’

Suddenly feeling very self conscious, he finds himself standing in the centre of a busy room filled with green chairs and sickly-looking humans until a young man who’s stood behind a stark-white counter clears his throat and beckons Draven over. 

“Can I help you?” he asks, eyeing the undead up and down suspiciously, though his face is the picture of exhaustion and his eyes keep flicking down to the flowers clenched in a large fist. 

Drawing himself up, Draven matches the other tired glare with a fierce one of his own. “Y/n,” he grunts, “I’m here to see Y/n L/n.” 

He’s surprised when the man sighs heavily, dropping his pen onto the desk and starts to furiously rub his temples. “Another one, wonderful,” he mutters to himself dismally before glancing back up at Draven and saying, more loudly, “Fine, why not? We’ve already let one of those horsemen and a maker in….I’m gonna go ahead and guess you’re not a relative?”

“N-no,” the blademaster stammers, put off by the man’s rather irritated reaction and informal way of speaking. In Draven’s time, a man as clean-cut and sharp as this one would have been almost insufferably prim and proper. “Just a friend.” 

“Your name?” 

 Proudly, he crosses his arms over each other and brings them up to his chest, announcing, “I am Draven. Master of blades. A warrior from the-”

“Just ‘Draven’ will do, thanks.”  

“…oh.” 

The undead stands there awkwardly, watching the man tap his fingers against an odd contraption he’d never seen before. Just as he’s about to lean further over the desk to get a better look, the man suddenly snatches up the discarded pen and points it down a long, crisp white hall. “Follow that red line on the wall to a ward called ‘Inpatients.’ Y/n’s in ward 51. I’ll go ahead and let them know you’re coming so nobody-” He gives Draven a quick once over, lips pursed “-freaks out.”

The warrior nods, grunting out a quick word of thanks as an afterthought before he turns to whisk off down the hallway, his green, hooded cape billowing behind him regally as he goes.

— 

“Remember that time I got to watch you get your ass handed to you by an old man?” 

“Ah, no. Eideard was an old man. Thane - despite what he says - is a maker who’s still in his prime. It was an honourable loss.” 

“It was a funny loss. My favourite part was when he dumped you in the water trough.” 

Death rolls his eyes, letting his head loll back against the uncomfortable, plastic chair by the side of your hospital bed. “I’m glad to see this illness hasn’t dampened your sense of humour.” 

A laugh catches in your throat, causing you to lurch forwards off the pillow and break into a fit of weak, painful coughs that sound haggard, wretched and rife with sickness. Death’s large hand finds your back and he gives it a few pats to clear your airway. You shoot him a grateful look, managing to chuckle softly,  “Nothing short of an apocalypse could ruin my hilarious repartee….Oh wait-”

Your conversation is abruptly interrupted by a soft knock on the door. 

Instantly, Death’s head snaps towards it and you stifle a snort when his hand twitches to Harvester’s hilt. 

“Really, Death? They’d have to be a pretty shitty bad guy to knock first.” 

The horseman grumbles at you but allows his hand to fall to his side as a doctor pokes her head around the door. “Y/n?” she sighs, “You’ve another guest. Honestly, I don’t want to know where you keep finding these…People. But listen, everyone’s getting nervous about Death being in the hospital.” Her exhausted gaze drags itself over to him and she shrugs apologetically, “I’m sorry Sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You can come back and see Y/n tomorrow, but somebody’s head is gonna roll if our Chief of Medicine finds out you’re still here today.”

Stretching, Death catches your eye, sending you a questioning look. When you make a shooing motion with your hand, he nods at the doctor. “Fine. I’ll take my leave then.” 

Her expression lifts into one of relief and she steps back, ushering in your next visitor before trotting off down the hall, the sound of her heels clicking classily against the rubber floor and disappearing down the corridor. 

Standing to leave, Death’s attention remains fixed on the doorway, in which looms a tall, decaying figure with haunting blue eyes and a permanent, skeletal grin to put even the jolliest of rogers to shame. 

“Draven?” Death blinks, astonished to see the large undead here, on Earth and not in the court of his king. 

At the sound of the Blademaster’s name, you perk up and push yourself upright in the bed, straining to see over Death’s shoulder. “Draven?” you echo excitedly as your old friend steps into the harsh light of the private room. 

What’s left of his stomach churns nervously when he sees you and he begins to knead the stems of the flowers between his large, sinewy hands. You look so different from when he last saw you six months ago. If it’s at all possible, you actually appear even smaller than you already were, laying in the hospital bed, surrounded by bizarre machines and beeping instruments. Your eyes look shattered, heavy-lidded and your skin is several shades paler than it usually is. But your smile is still the same as ever when you send it his way. Even without a heart beating in his chest, Draven feels the telltale rush of warmth spread through his corpse at the sight of you.  

“Y/n,” he breathes, “I…I heard you haven’t been yourself lately.” 

As if on cue, you grimace at an unseen pain that races up your spine and into your head and you moan, massaging your temples tenderly. “Ugh, yep. Just a bit under the weather, nothing major.” 

Raising a skeptical brow ridge, Draven glances over at the horseman, who nods his head at him, almost imperceptibly. “It’s nothing Y/n can’t handle,” he confirms, “Though, I would try not to cause too much….excitement.” The horseman raises himself from the chair, resting his hand on yours for the briefest moment whilst Draven hovers uncertainly. “I’ll be returning to Earth in a week or so.“ 

You take hold of his fingers and squeeze them amicably. “I’ll be out by then. Come by my house when you’re back?” 

He nods once then turns to the Blademaster. “Take care of our mutual friend,” he warns, angling his mask away from your line of sight so you don’t catch the challenging glare he’s boring into him.

The undead simply smirks and lifts a hand to put it on Death’s shoulder, revelling in the way the horseman bristles noticeably under the touch. “Now where’s the fun in that,” he winks. 

Obviously deciding that an argument in a hospital room is beneath him, Death scoffs, bids you a quiet farewell, then vanishes out of the door, leaving you both alone in each other’s company. 

The easy atmosphere in the room dissipates slowly, leaving it cloaked in a thick silence that you’re dying to break. Meanwhile, Draven continues to stare down at you, his bright eyes wide and unsure. Finally, roving your eyes up and down his sword-punctured body, you find a topic of conversation to focus on. Gesturing to the flowers hanging from his grasp, you ask, “So. Those for your mum? Or do you just like the smell?”

He almost drops them, embarrassed that he’s lost his suavity in your presence. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he berates himself, ‘you used to be good at courting.’

You wait patiently, smiling as the undead suddenly stumbles forwards to your bed, glancing several times between you and the flowers before he pushes them into your hands. “They’re for you,” he explains needlessly, frowning when you let out a bark of laughter. 

“Well I didn’t think you brought them for Death!” Grinning widely, you shove your face between the petals, mostly to hide the giddiness evident in your expression. Giving someone flowers is a regular enough occurrence amongst humans. And sure, Draven used to be a human himself, but for whatever reason, the act of your zombified friend giving you this bouquet sends your mind in a tizzy. 

“They smell lovely,” you say once you’ve taken a good whiff. 

Draven shrugs. “Ostegoth chose em.” 

“Oh come on,” you laugh gleefully, “You know, you could have just lied!”

Leaning across the bedside table next to your bed, you try to reach the empty vase sitting on the far side of it. 

“Oh! Let me.” Draven jumps forward and grabs the vase, nearly sloshing water all over himself in his haste to help you. You thank him, placing the flowers in the proffered vase and laying back whilst he puts it on the table again. 

Satisfied, he gathers his cloak under one arm and plonks himself down in the flimsy chair, wincing when it creaks in protest. He looks up at you then, startled to find you shuffling down the bed and leaning towards him, resulting in the Blademaster lifting his hands to steady you as you collapse heavily against him with a happy huff and snake your arms beneath the hood, looping them around his sturdy neck. In return, he allows himself to relax into the hug with a quiet sigh, bury his nasal ridge in your hair and nuzzle his face against the side of your head. 

“It’s so good to see you,” you chirp into his hood, “I’ve missed you.” 

Draven’s throat constricts at those words. He’d forgotten what it was like to have people care about him - to have friends who wouldn’t stab him in the back and who sends his spirit soaring with a phrase so simple as ‘I miss you.’ 

Hesitantly, the words feeling foreign and strange as they leave his tongue, he whispers, “I’ve missed you too,” and tightens his rawboned fingers into your hospital gown. 

You both remain like that for some time, just enjoying the physical contact, though something tells you Draven is garnering far more happiness from the simple hug than you are. Eventually, you have let go and pull back, letting his hands slide down your arms and land in his lap. 

“So, what are you doing here?” you ask, rubbing at the bags under your eyes self-consciously. 

“I came to see you.” 

“Well, yeah. But why are you on Earth? Are you on a mission?” 

Draven blinks, tilting his head to the side. “No? I’m on Earth to see you.”

“I……oh.” 

He sits forward in the chair, resting his forearms over his knees and quirks his brow bone at you, sharp teeth gleaming grotesquely in the bright light whilst you try to formulate a response. ‘He’s here. Just to see me?’ After a brief moment of uncomfortably trying to respond, you settle on taking a sip of water from the plastic cup on your night-stand and swallowing thickly. “How - uh - how did you get the king to agree to that?” 

Draven shrugs, “he likes you.” 

When you snort obnoxiously, he reaches onto the bed to give your knee a playful shove. “S’true! Y’know he wants you in his court.” 

“He’s still going on about that?” you gripe, “Why?” 

“Well….He likes you.” 

“Again. Why?” 

For a fraction of a second, Draven’s eyes glimmer and his voice dips low, husky and soft as he murmurs, “What’s not to like?”

When you don’t respond except to blink tiredly up at him, the undead ducks his head, shadowing his face beneath the green, tattered hood and scratches at a patch of rotting skin on his wrist. “Y/n…I-” 

Suddenly, there’s another knock on the door and the same doctor steps into the room. “Visiting hours are almost over, you have ten minutes.” 

“What?” you whine, clutching your chest, “But he just got here! We’ve barely had time to talk!” 

Suddenly, Draven scowls and stands up from his chair, towering easily over the doctor and rolling his shoulders in an unnecessary display of power. “M’not leavin’ if Y/n wants me to stay,” he states gruffly. 

To her credit, the doctor merely adjusts her grip on the clipboard and draws herself up to seem taller than she is, not that it makes much difference when she only reaches the top of Draven’s chest. “My patient needs rest, sir. Besides the fact that my superiors will have my head if I let you st-” 

“Then send your superiors to me,” he pounds a fist against his chest twice, “I’ll deal with them. I’ve got twenty four hours on Earth before I have to go back to my realm and I plan spending that time with the only friend I’ve got.” He indicates to you with a wild wave of his hand, although he quickly realises that he’s revealed too much weakness to this stranger. Distractedly, Draven begins to fiddle with one of the blades sticking out of his forearm, ignorant of the disgust that flashes across the doctor’s face at the sound of his paper-dry skin tearing slightly with the gentle back and forth pulling motion. He slinks backwards to the headboard and glances down at you, pulling his teeth into a soft smile before looking back at her. “Please Doc?” 

The doctor seems more than ready to put up a fight, but eventually she just peers around Draven’s broad shoulders to stare down at you in the bed. “Are you okay with this?” she asks. You nod, reaching out unconsciously to weakly wrap your small fingers around the Blademaster’s wrist, sending a jolt of electricity straight up his arm. 

Rubbing the bridge of her nose exasperatedly, she gives a breathless laugh and flaps her hands out to the side. “Why the Hell not. Screw it, right? I’ve already died in an apocalypse, what’s the worst those pencil-pushers up top could do?” Turning on her heel, she stalks to the door, swinging it open and shaking her head. Before she leaves though, she glances over her shoulder at the Blademaster and shoots him a cool stare. “Just….just don’t leave this room tonight, okay? I don’t want people in a panic because they’ve seen a ghost walking around the ward at night.” Her eyes dart to you. “Y/n, surgery tomorrow is at ten. A nurse’ll be by to give you breakfast around eight. Use the call button if you need anything.” She raises a trimmed eyebrow at Draven. “Although I doubt much could go wrong with tall, dark and ghoulish here watching over you.”  And with that, she’s gone. 

Draven deflates visibly and drops back down into the chair, studying your face worriedly. “Surgery?” he asks uncertainly. 

You wave your hand reassuringly, “S’nothing major, don’t worry about it.” 

His eyes bore into you, trying to sniff out any hint of deception. “You’d tell me if it was serious.” It’s not a question or a request, it’s a demand. 

Rolling your eyes, you laugh quietly at the sober look on his face. “Yes, Draven. I’d tell you if it was serious,” you promise, leaning back into the pillow and turning onto your side with a grunt of minor pain. You stare up at him underneath his hood, blowing air out through your nose as you scrutinise the way his jaw is shifting every so often, a clear sign that he’s thinking of something to say. Deciding to help him out, you voice the thought that had been on your mind since the doctor came in. 

“So.. you’re only here for a day?” you ask. 

Nodding, he returns to picking the loose skin on his wrist. “S’right.

“Seriously?” You abruptly prop your head up on one arm and give him an incredulous scoff. “You’ve only got one day on Earth and you want to spend it inside a hospital room?”

“What else would I be doing?” 

“Um! Anything? You could be exploring. Finding out what’s changed. You could visit the place you used to live! I bet someone would help you find it. Hey, you haven’t even discovered television yet, or had a glass of wine. You said how much you missed wine.” 

Draven,” you furrow your brow and gaze at him sincerely, “I don’t want you to stay if you’d rather spend your time out there.” 

“I want to spend it with you,” he mumbles, avoiding your eyes entirely now. 

You find yourself lost for words.. Again and again the master of blades does something heartfelt, reminding you that he wasn’t always an undead servant to the Lord of Bones. He may be a dead man, yet the spirit of humanity is still very much alive in him. It’s humbling when you get to see it. Draven, similarly, is grateful that you make him forget what he is - just a ghost. A ghost with a serious attachment to a living human. 

“Well,” you break the heavy silence in a reticent voice, “Thanks. I guess this means you’ll just have to ask the king for another day off, hmm? Maybe when I’m out of hospital.” 

Hopeful, he scratches behind his ear and has to stop himself from removing the hood altogether. He’s not sure you’re ready to see the grey matter showing through the large hole in the back of his skull. “Guess there’s no harm in tryin’.” He leans forward and taps a cold, sharp finger against your forehead. “But you need to get better first.” 

“Alright, alright,” you smirk, brushing his hand away. 

The light filtering in through the window diminishes slowly as the conversation turns to more jovial topics. He asks what you’ve been doing since the resurrection, you inquire after affairs in the Dead Plains. You fall into the conversation easily, as though you hadn’t been apart for six months. 

When you start to yawn, Draven asks if there’s a way to ‘extinguish that bloody, bright torch on the ceiling,’ which gets a hearty but weak chuckle out of you and you have to walk him through the proper use of a light-switch. He flicks it on and off several times, fascinated by his first interaction with technology before at last turning the light off as you reach over to switch on the lamp, casting the room in a much more pleasant, warm glow. You continue to talk softly well into the night, keeping laughs hushed and secretive so as not to draw any night orderlies to your room. 

Inevitably, your words trail off into a sleepy drawl and Draven’s wide, spectral grin softens at the sight of you fighting to stay awake. The last thing you feel before you fall asleep, is a large, ashen hand slipping beneath your fingers that rest on the bed and a cold thumb pressing gently into your palm. 

[professional-anti]

City of Bones: Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Secrets and Lies Clary’s drawing and experiencing some Frustration. And like…..ya girl I gotcha. I know the pain. Clary wishes she could be more like her mother which is kind of sweet but super cliché. The phone rings, and it’s Simon being That Lovable Dork™ and pretending to be one of the guys she saw carying a knife. It’s a little funny, ngl, but Simon…come on. Clary’s upset rn.

Clary’s mom was apparently upset they were home late, and we get this:

“I am the bane of her existence,” Clary said, mimicking her mother’s precise phrasing with only a slight twinge of guilt.

…That was her mother’s precise phrasing? Clary, don’t feel guilty mimicking that. Your mom called you the bane of her existence! This is just bad writing, y’all. Jocelyn Fray is set up to be this loving, kind mom…and she says something like that? It makes sense that she’s angry, like, fine, let her be angry. But Cassandra Clare has absolutely no sense of extremes. This is just a li’l too much, babe. Tone it down.

OH GODD. I forgot. Simon has a band. Of course he does, bc this can’t get any more cliché. Simon invites Clary to a poetry reading one of his bandmates is doing. So far, it seems like all of Clary’s friends are boys, which really urks me. Let girls be friends! Let girls take care of each other! A girl isn’t “cool” just bc all her friends are boys. A girl who says “I don’t get along with other girls?” Take care of her. There is some deep internalized mysoginy going on. (Don’t @ me!)

Apparently Eric is really bad at poetry, which, like, mood. They agree that even though Clary’s mom is mad at her for going out the night before, Simon’ll still pick Clary up and bring her to the poetry slam. Not so nice of Simon, but I get the appeal of dragging someone along to a terrible poetry reading. Sometimes you just need support.

There’s a picture of Clary’s dad over the mantel. Apparently he was a soldier who died crashing his car into a tree before Clary was born. Even someone who has never heard anything about these books before and is experiencing them for the first time would be able to tell that Clary has clearly been fed a pack of lies. Apparently Jocelyn never talks about him but has a box with his initials (JC, gonna come up later 100%) with his medals inside.

Clary hears someone coming and grabs a book bc “Jocelyn recognized reading as a sacred pastime and wouldn’t interrupt Clary in the middle of a book, even to yell at her.” Ummmm,,,, sounds like a bad policy, Jocie. Clary should have walked in the night before with a book glued to her face.

A guy called Luke comes in holding folded cardboard boxes, and all I can picture is this:

And that’s how we’ll be thinking of Luke from now on. There’s some dumb background info:

“Hey, Un—hey, Luke,” she said. He’d asked her to stop calling him Uncle Luke about a year ago, claiming that it made him feel old, and anyway reminded him of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Besides, he’d remind her gently, he wasn’t really her uncle, just a close friend of her mother’s who’d known her all her life.

I’M SCREAMING. This is bad writing, folks. This is bad writing. Have any of you guys braved the steaming shit pile that is Handbook for Mortals? This reminds me of that. Totally unnecessary detail that just detracts from the action. Besides being unnecessary, it’s really fucking awkward. Nobody talks like that. “Hi, Uncle Luke!” “Don’t call me that. That reminds me of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which for some reason Cassandra Clare won’t italicize. Besides, I’m not really your uncle, just a close friend of your mother’s who’s known you all your life.” Umm, Luke??? That’s what people call close friends of their parent’s. It’s a known thing that people do. Also, most people do not think of Uncle Tom’s Cabin after hearing “Uncle Luke”. So calm down, Uncle Luke.

There’s some banter. Apparently Clary’s mom is parking the truck. (Do you guys know how hard it is for me not to type Clare instead of Clary?? It keeps happening.)

Apparently the book Clary grabbed from the side-table was The Golden Bough. Now, spoiler alert: Jocelyn has had Clary’s memories of magic all wiped, which I know from the first time I read this hell book. So why would she purposely put books about mythology and magic in the house??????

Clary asks Luke if he’s ever seen something no one else could see, and he reacts totally unsuspiciously by dropping his tape gun. He spews some bullshit about hallucinating being okay bc she’s “an artist” and “sees the world in ways that other people don’t.”

Jocelyn walks in, and ofc, she’s super gorgeous blah blah blah. This happens:

People always told Clary that she looked like her mother, but she couldn’t see it herself. The only thing that was similar about them was their figures: They were both slender, with small chests and narrow hips. She knew she wasn’t beautiful like her mother was. To be beautiful you had to be willowy and tall. When you were as short as Clary was, just over five feet, you were cute. Not pretty or beautiful, but cute. Throw in carroty hair and a face full of freckles, and she was a Raggedy Ann to her mother’s Barbie doll.

#letgirlsknowthey’repretty2018!!!! Alternatively, stop being fucking cowards and let your MC not be classically beautiful. Bc I’m sorry, we all know Clary is supposed to be gorgeous. Her biggest flaw is that she’s short??? Honey, I am 4 feet 11 inches, and I’ll be that tall until the day I die (unless I do one of those old-lady shrinks). Being short isn’t actually a fucking flaw, Clare’s just pretending it is. I’m just sick of this. Girls have to be beautiful, but they can’t know they’re beautiful. And they can’t be beautiful if it’s not in a thin, white-girl way. Here’s what I want: fat girls who know they’re gorgeous. Girls of color who know they’re gorgeous. Jewish girls and Muslim girls who know they’re gorgeous. Alternatively, I want girls aren’t gorgeous and aren’t described in such a way that we’re supposed to know they’re actually gorgeous. I want girls who don’t pass judgement on themselves at all. I want girls who can just be without having to fulfill some vision of beauty.

Bc here is what we’re supposed to take away from Clary’s description: she has striking red hair and pretty freckles. She’s short and slender. She’s cute and pretty. She just doesn’t know it. Gag me.

Ughhhh. Clary’s also clumsy, her second “flaw”. This isn’t a real fucking flaw!! A flaw is something that is actually detrimental to you, okay??? When you say, “Oh, this character is clumsy,” you’re really saying, “I’m too lazy to think up some actual flaws.” And Clare’s been known to plagiarize, which is a lazy person’s sin.

Jocelyn drops the bombshell that they’re, um…going on vacation. Jocelyn, Clary, and Luke are going to a place called the “farmhouse” in upstate NY for the rest of the summer. As any well-read YA reader knows, this is code for OH FUCKING SHIT WE’RE ABOUT TO DIE THEY’RE ON TO US THROW YOUR CLOTHING INTO A SUITCASE AND GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.

Clary flips shit bc even though she earlier said school is only a few weeks away, the rest of summer is apparently really long now. She demands to know what could happen if she stays behind. Apparently the only way Clare can show that somebody is startled is by them dropping something, so Luke drops some picture frames. Ugh, totally not worth being startled over, Uncle Luke. He says he has to go, and Clary hears him and her mom whispering about someone called Bane. From now on, this is Bane:

I promise he’s more badass than anything Cassandra Clare could come up with.

There’s some more Shady Conversation between Jocelyn and Luke that Clary is too dumb to follow, and Luke tells Jocelyn to talk to Clary. It’s really weird that after years of protecting Clary they’re just gonna argue right in front of her, but Clare does what Clare wants.

This happens:

The door flew open. Jocelyn gave a little scream. “Jesus!” Luke exclaimed. “Actually, it’s just me,” said Simon. “Although I’ve been told the resemblance is startling.” He waved at Clary from the doorway. “You ready?”

;lasdlajlkajldljl So much happening here. For one, Jocelyn screams. Why is it always the woman who screams? Why was Isabelle the one shrieking? Why is it possible for female authors to be mysoginistc? Why does the world suck?

But my main point is that I think Simon is supposed to be likable? But honestly he’s just coming over as a real douchebag, so jot that down. Anyway, Clary and Simon fuck off. It’s a little weird that Jocelyn is just letting Clary go, but as we all know, Clare does what Clare wants. Oh, and Clary’s super rude to her mom as they’re leaving. The usual.

Oh, God. Another wonderful Simonism. As they’re going down the stairs, Simon says, “Jesus, woman, don’t rip my arm off.” I love, love, love when a female character is referred to as “woman”! Hahahaha nope. Not even as a joke. I think it’s dumb and sexist and argh. Simon is just proving himself to be a real treat. 

We learn that Clary lives in a brownstone that’s been divided into apartments and she and her mom share the building with a psychic called Dorothea.

“Nice to see she’s doing a booming business,” Simon said. “It’s hard to get steady prophet work these days.” “Do you have to be sarcastic about everything?” Clary snapped.

Hate to say it, but I’m with Clary on this one. Also, once again, Clare shows that she really doesn't understand moderation. Simon making a crack once in a while? Okay. Probably funny. ALL OF SIMON’S LINES BEING THESE ANNOYING JOKES?? NOT FUNNY. KILL BILL SIRENS EACH TIME. I’M TIRED.

WAIT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I THINK MAGNUS JUST WALKED OUT OF DOROTHEA’S APARTMENT??? YASSSSSS, HERE WE GOOOOO. Clary does the annoying thing where she’s like “am I remembering something?” but then doesn’t remember anything at all. Anyway, that’s the end of Magnus for this chapter.

We rejoin our intrepid assholes at a Mexican restaurant where Clary is angsting about her mom and Simon is cracking jokes. Clary talks about how she knows nothing about her mom’s life before her mom had her. It’s page 31 and nothing interesting has happened yet I swear to God. Simon’s like, “Haven’t you see all those scars your mom has?” and Clary’s like “What scars?” which we all know is bc she’s been mind-whiped or something. Clary ignored a call from her mom, which is exactly the thing to do when your mom is acting erratic and scared!!

They leave the restaurant and Clary thinks she sees a doll’s wings flutter. Simon complains about being the only boy in his band without a girlfriend. Save yourself, Clary! You suck, but save yourself from the Nice Guy™ anyway!! There’s a low-key homophobic joke:

“Pretty soon the only people left without a girlfriend will be me and Wendell the school janitor. And he smells like Windex.” “At least you know he’s still available.” Simon glared. “Not funny, Fray.”

And then Clary gets even worse:

“There’s always Sheila ‘The Thong’ Barbarino,” Clary suggested. Clary had sat behind her in math class in ninth grade. Every time Sheila had dropped her pencil—which had been often—Clary had been treated to the sight of Sheila’s underwear riding above the waistband of her super-low-rise jeans.

(source: https://tenor.com/view/batman-donotwant-animated-gif-4668582)

Look. I am not a nice person. I’ve been known to commit lashon hara, which is the Jewish way of saying being a big ol’ gossip whore. But I would never slut-shame. And I expect better of my female protagonists. This book is just so filled with girl-on-girl hate. And I hate girl-on-girl hate. I want girls building each other up. I want girls loving each other. I want girls supporting other girls, not tearing them down. I don’t want girls who only make friends with boys and then slut-shame other girls with them.

Oh, it turns out Eric the poet is dating Sheila. And we’re on our way to the poetry reading. Great! I bet we’ll meet her, and it’ll be slut-shaming goodness. Clary calls Eric a sexist pig for telling Simon to “just decide which girl in school had the most rockin’ bod and ask her out on the first day of classes.” I am totally in agreeance that Eric is a sexist pig. So why, perchance, is Simon FRIENDS WITH THIS ASSHOLE? This is the CLASSIC Nice Guy™. They always have a coterie of sexist pig friends to show how Nice they are in contrast. Fuck that. Actual nice guys, who aren’t Nice Guys™? They have nice friends.

Clary ignores a call from her mom and thinks about how much she’ll miss Simon while at the farmhouse even though she’s been nothing but annoyed at him since page one. The chapter thankfully ends.

[iceamericanoventi]

PHOSPHENES - Chapter 2

Day 1.

Day 4.

The next Monday, finally Taeyeon had a chance to meet Lee Jinki, the supposed head of the design team, and the studio as well. She almost dropped down her chair when a guy wrapped in grey turtle neck with sleek black hair approached her. His bangs sort of too long, swiped slightly to the side and it bounced fluffily each step he made.

“Heyho, Taeyeon. My apologize, I just have my time to greet you.”

The said man dragged the chair from Minho’s station and sit comfortably next to her, completely opposite with her state which still cannot swallow what just flashed before her eyes. Who knows her boss’s boss looks like what you described as sunshine on Saturday morning after a whole dreaded week?

“You greeted me on the email, already. Don’t worry about that.”

“I prefer to do it properly. Besides, my fiancé would gladly slap me right on the face if I got caught being manner-less.”

Ah, right. The fiancé. This man is taken and bonded to someone already, how on earth I even dare drooling over his beautiful appearance? Get a grip, Lee Taeyeon!

“God bless your fiancé, then.”

“I wouldn’t want any other way,” Jinki beams into very bright diamond, Taeyeon gulped down a lump of sickening air once again for seeing the scene, “So, how is it going so far? You like it here? Jonghyun passed my notes already last week, yes?”

“It’s going well, and yeah, you got the most awesome crew. I’m doing some drawing for the studio house, the one at the rooftop.”

“Ah, yes, yes. Mind if I take a look? Did Minho check it already?”

Taeyeon hesitated for a second, “Actually, I have no clue. Last week he was so busy and told me to just email it to him so he can review that. I did send it but haven’t heard anything from him until this morning, though.”

“This hybrid frog,” Jinki moved closer to the screen to assess the design she has been making, “This one, the façade. Umm, can you make two options of it? This one is okay, but with the full glass like this, probably we need more detail with the frame and glass later and my friend Kim Jonghyun there won’t be happy with that. Plus, the site is quite dense, we need confirmation from the client about this much of exposure. Push this wall back like around one meter, but check first, if it’s possible with the other room behind, and move the glass wall to the front another one or one and half meter. So we’ll have sort of small green house and solid wall then.”

The words Jinki recited sounds like a beautiful poet in her ears and she mentally smacked the back of her head because of that. Quickly she took her sketch book to explain what she meant by the idea.

“Well, I was thinking to provide more sunlight to the house since the location is crowded enough. However, what you’ve just said is all make sense.”

He sends her another sweet smile she nearly had another heart attack, “Completely understand. I like your idea, that’s why I asked you to make another option and not changed what you already did so far. Who knows the client prefer your design than mine, right?”

Dazzling light’s suddenly blinding her eyes when Jinki decided to turn into human torch. Taeyeon immediately thanking all of the good deeds she did for having such understanding boss like him. It swept all her anxiety at once because in the past, her boss was a middle age man who’s very demanding until the day she resigned from the position.

“Oh, and Taeyeon, actually I need the drawing for my parents’ house by Thursday or Friday. My fiancé and I will have family dinner on Friday night, so can you help me to prioritize that?”

I’ll do anything for you, Sir!

Taeyeon almost surrendered on her knee listening how soft and polite Jinki delivered his request.

“Yes, of course! I’ll fix this one very quickly then take care of that so hopefully on Thursday I’ll be able to show it to you. If there’s some stuff you don’t like, we will have time to revise that before Friday afternoon.”

“Sounds great. Oh, and one more thing, when Minho arrived discuss your work with him and tell him to go to my desk after.”

Jinki must have caught the sudden change of expression on Taeyeon’s face. He returned back to her side and crossed both his arms on her desk to support his leaning torso.

“What? Something’s wrong?”

“No, no, nothing!”

“Then why your face looks like I asked you to do some marathon at this very minute at this very weather?”

She bites her lower lips instantly, caught red handed. She knew she’s the worst with lying, especially to people who’s really nice with her.

“Maybe it’s just me. But I feel Minho is.. not comfortable with me.”

She tried so hard to pick her words, to avoid using the ‘hate’ word.

“Yet.”

“I know it’s only three days I’ve been here. He seemed doesn’t want to work with me. Well, like I said before, maybe I’m just being too sensitive. Nevermind. You’re right. He needs more time to adjust. I’ll convey your message to him, then.”

Taeyeon put her smile, but it’s so flat and unnatural Jinki can only chuckle seeing her flustered attitude.

“Listen. You may have heard one or two things about him from the other. But trust me. As far I know, and I know very well, he’s a really good architect. And a friend who’s very great, kind, and warm. I’m agree that his façade, plus those huge eyes, they’re intimidating sometimes.”

“Very. You have no idea.”

Her honest opinion got him cracking on the spot.

“Lee Jinki! Your fuckin’ fiancé threaten to burn the office down if you’re not answering the phone call! Go back here and take care of your phone that had been ringing hundred times! Stop torturing me!!”

Jonghyun popped out from the glass room and shouted to the whole office.

“That’s my cue. I’d better go back there before you need to find another place to continue your internship!”

He winked quickly and dashed into the glass door that just slammed shut by Jonghyun. She winched silently for the idea of sitting together to discuss her progress with Minho. The man didn’t do anything wrong, though, he barely did anything. His desk seemed more like bus stop instead a work station. If anyone summed up the entire encounter happened between Taeyeon and Minho, it would be no more than five hours, which includes the time they passed each other at the toilet’s entrance or on the office corridor.

But miracles happened this morning. The handsome architect looks like in a very good mood. He arrived thirty minutes later and even stopped by near the vending machine and jokes around with Amber who was kicking the poor machine for swallowing her coins. The way they slapped each other’s arms and loud chattering proofs Jinki’s right, he is a warm person.

She cursed her sensitivity for asking too much. So when he passed her, she put the best smile she had and shakes the negative thoughts off her mind.

“Good morning, Minho!”

On the other hand, the latter is not ready with such jolly greeting. When the image of an innocent girl offering a smile that worth all his time of the day, he’s forced to chew his inner cheek and took his best effort composing some words.

“Oh, good morning.., Taeyeon.”

Are you fifteen years old or what, Choi Minho?! What’s with the unnecessary stutter?

“How’s your weekend?”

“Was okay. Saturday with friends and Sunday with my family.”

Taeyeon tilted her head to the side directing her attention fully to Minho, without fail making the tall guy flustered and rushed to turn on his computer so he can hide the crimson tint on his cheeks he’s yet realized not that apparent but feels very intense on his skin.

“Sounds nice.”

She turned back to her screen, sighing contently, imagining patting her own back for dropping her pride and actually trying to approach him with friendly conversation. Not so bad, Lee Taeyeon.

“And you?”

Did I hear correct? He’s actually asking me? Not working-related topic?

“Me?”

“Well, Suho is not around and I believe Hyungsik over there is engrossed to some outer space songs blasting from his headphone I wished he bought a better one because as we can see or rather listen, I don’t need to ask him to know what he’s listening too. So. Yeah, you.”

“Well, I worked during weekend too. So it was tiring, but fun somehow.”

“Cool.”

Minho pulled a super short smile and left Taeyeon almost dropping her jaw, waiting for further words which never came out from him. She shrugged and decided she was just lucky the past five minutes. Until she remembered what’s Jinki said earlier.

“Uh, Minho?”

“Hmmm?” he didn’t move his eyes from his phone.

“About the houses. Jinki asked me to discuss the design and his input this morning, and after that he asked you to go see him.”

He cocked his head suddenly with the why-don’t-you-tell-me-earlier expression hanging under his forehead. Quickly he grabbed his notes and folder from the drawer and stood up from his seat.

“Where are you going?”

Taeyeon can see crystal clear how Minho hesitated not to roll his eyes, “To see Jinki.”

“Yeah, but he said we need to discuss this first.”

“I got important meeting with a client in twenty minutes.”

The words rolled out his lips sounds tougher than any construction Taeyeon ever designed, but this time she didn’t back down even from where she sits, his board built looks two times more threatening.

“I understand. By any chance, have you checked my email last week?”

“No, I was very occupied with the last apartment that I visited.”

 He doesn’t even feel bad. Guilty? My ass.

“Then how can I proceed with this without your approval?”

She must have raised her voice quite far for Changmin turning his head quickly to the crime scene. Minho, although, didn’t budge an inch and match his stern gaze to Taeyeon’s.

“Well, nobody’s here to baby sit anyone, for your information. Being independent is also a task given to you.”

“I’m not asking anyone to take care of me, but since we work in a team, at least we need to talk over some stuff here, no? What’s the point coming here if I just need to do it by myself? You can just send the work to my email and I didn’t need to leave the house.”

The girl cannot believe what she blurted out, however, it’s more than too late to fix the atmosphere.

“Why are you complaining to me? Those jobs are from Jinki.”

The displeased look he gave to her is not helping her rage at all. However Minho doesn’t look like he’s done venting out his anger so Taeyeon complied right away.

“But you’re my direct superior. I thought I supposed to go through you first before stepping on you and just run to Jinki.”

“Your application said you have working experience before. You should know how to handle a project if your colleague got handful stuff on their end. You can always return to your beloved United Kingdom for some charity if working here is too tough for you.”

What she asked is just two ways communication but what she got in returned is baseless accusation. Taeyeon cannot hide her disappointment anymore.

“Now excuse me, Jinki is waiting and I have no time to ruin my day with argument.”

Ruin your day? Talked about you ruined my whole week ahead!

After he left, she took her iPod and went to the other direction, hoping to cool her head with solitude in the pantry. Changmin grabbed his phone right away and typed rapidly on it.

To GameKyu:

The new intern is no joke. She just shoved her guts under Minho’s nose. Did I tell you I put dibs on her yet? If not, now you know!

He tossed his phone to the table just like that before entailing Taeyeon’s silhouette that just disappeared from his sight. He dragged Bora on the way from her seat, knowing that the girl wouldn’t miss such a gossip.

One and half hour later, Minho returned to his desk just to find some drawing printed and placed neatly next to his keyboard. A small post it attached at the right top corner.

‘Please review it before you hop on your next schedule. This only needs 15 minutes. Thank you.’

He sighed heavily while tracing the small notes before his eyes.

‘You haven’t checked it yet? Open your email. Now. In front of me. And tell me what do you think about that. Don’t you dare shoot me another excuse. Now. I knew you have your phone.’

Words from Jinki are still roaming his thought. He glanced to his side, with her hair pulled up into a bun, her neck looks even more slender. Judging from her back view, he would never guess she could stand her ground and voiced her thoughts like that.  

The cold treatment she gave when he passed her desk and how the cable of her earphone plugged on visible from his position makes him sighed again. He took a marker in front of him and started sketching on the printed layout.

***

Taeyeon has been sitting in the same position on her bed for almost an hour now. Her eyes glued to the sticky note in front of her. She recites the words hundred times in her mind but nothing changes, means it’s real. It’s not only in her imagination.

‘I’ve checked these and put some notes and sketched some details needed. Already took pictures and send it to Jinki. You can continue both options for the rooftop house. Sorry if I was being a jerk earlier.’

When she returned after lunch, she didn’t expect she’d found set of paper she decided to print after Bora and Changmin calmed her down, laid out on her closed laptop. Looking around, she realized no one’s in her team available on their post. Not even Hyungsik, the guy who’s almost always hooked with his Spotify at the corner.

Much more to her surprise is when her eyes caught the bright green paper attached on it.

“It’s not a dream, isn’t it?”

Couple more slaps on her cheeks and it still stings just like the first time she did. She picked the sticky notes once again, this time up to an inch to her nose. God, his handwriting is beautiful!

Quickly she grabbed the papers splattered on her duvet and carefully following every single line Minho carved on its surface. Half of her conscious, Taeyeon is embarrassed by her own demeanor, who’s giggling only because of stupid sticky notes? Because of simple lines engraved on a paper?

“Krystal!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs but since nothing’s happened she repeated it, this time louder than an ambulance siren, “Jung Soojung!!!”

“What the heck, Lee Taeyeon?!”

Her roommate’s standing at the threshold, breathing unevenly, shoulder length hair still wet from unfinished shower time, Krystal tried to tie her bathrobe before catching a cold.

“We have a problem. A big problem.”

“What? Did you hurt yourself? Where? How?”

Taeyeon shakes her head with all her might. She squinted to the paper at her hand and locked her gaze to Krystal.

“I may or may not, have a crush on my cold-as-bitch boss.”

***

GameKyu [GK] : I didn’t see the intern today at lunch

Max  : We went together to the steak place across the street

GK   : We? #smirk #evilgrin

Max  : Me, her, Bora, and Henry

Max  : I wish only me and her, tho :/

GK   : kkkk, over Minho’s dead body

Suho : Something happened when I’m not around?

Max  : You missed a huuuggeee drama

Suho : What drama?! Why nobody tell me?!

GK   : Minho got a very nice upper jab by the little girl

GK   : Didn’t see it by myself, but, Changmin is always convincing whenever he did the story telling

Suho : HOW?!

Max  : Next time I will put my go-pro on right on the top of my monitor

Suho : HOW?!

Max  : She has some balls to fight Minho back

Max  : I told you she’s something since her 1st day

GK   : Funny thing is, Minho was intrigued

GK   : Someone needs to explain this

Suho : The Almighty is shaken? By a little girl?

Max  : Dude, you just blew up some hidden code

Suho : Sooorrrryyyy

Suho : He knew already btw, that we called him name behind his back

GK   : Yeah, I still remember his restless face when he confronted me

GK   : Making a fuss over such childish stuff

GK   : Like a five years old kid who doesn’t get his share of candy

GK   : The Almighty.. more like The Mighty Ducks

GK   : kkkkkkkkkk

Max  : Then we need to find another name then

Max  : The Almighty is too good for him anw :P

Suho : Back to my question. How on earth he’s knocked down by a little girl?

Minho: Stop saying a little girl, Kim Joonmyeon. She’s 2cm taller than you and fyi, I’m not knocked out

Minho: You guys know that I’m in this group as well, right?

Max  : That’s why I said what I said..~~ #dancing

Max  : But since you’re here already, Mr. Almighty, where did you get her profile information?

Max  : Some people would just say she’s tall

Max  : 2cm taller? Did you carry a ruler around?

GK   : Ohooo.. someone’s jealous..~~

GK   : kkkkkk

Suho : Jealous?

GK   : Don’t you remember Changmin kept telling us he put dibs on her?

Suho : This means war! #runaway

Max  : U too?

GK   : You know something?

Suho : You know I have a girlfriend already

GK   : No way

Suho : Yes way

Max  : No way

Suho : I think I should go

Max  : Don’t u dare leaving after dropped the bomb

Suho : I didn’t drop anything

GK   : U and ur sorry ass can die later but Changmin got his point

GK   : I’ll hunt you till the end of the world if you don’t unzip your lips

Suho : This is cyber bullying, Cho Kyuhyun

Suho : I’m outta here

Max  : Gotta finish what’ve u started, man

Max  : Spill it or I will voluntary pick u up tomorrow morning

Max  : Tormenting you during the trip to the office sounds like a nice breakfast

Suho : The hell, dude

Suho : U r freaking psychopath

GK   : No one is torturing anyone

GK   : But I don’t mind if it gets me a nice story, btw

Minho: All of u sound like group of very nosy women in my apartment building

Minho: Aren’t u tired gossiping around?

Minho: U r not fifteen anymore, for God’s sake

Max  : He wrote a lot! :O

Max  : Kim Joonmyeon you better says something or tomorrow morning can be now

Suho : DUDE!! Minho just sent me a private message

Suho : HELP

Suho : SOS

GK   : No pict = hoax

GK   : Screenshot

Minho: Kim Joonmyeon

GK   : He’s ur boss only in the office

Suho : Yeah, a dead ass boss

Suho : I’ll tell you when I’m resigning

GK   : You are so not fun

Max  : So I can still put dibs on her or not?

Minho: Your girlfriend is waiting in Japan, you idiot

GK   : Now you know

Suho : Now you know

Max  : Now I know

Minho: What do you know?

Ten minutes later

Minho: Someone answer me. What do u know?

And another ten minutes passed with Minho having staring contest with a still screen. Everyone is purposely ignoring him for some obvious reason. He dragged his hand to massage his suddenly stiff neck.

This is not happening. How on earth Suho had to catch me looking at her direction for too long? And why should I have flustered when I realized he was watching? Don’t blame me if she looks so enchanting while laughing on a casual chat with Bora and Sunny!

He peeked once again to his phone, hoping some notifications popped up on it. Little did he know, Kyuhyun’s already back in his game and Changmin’s having a video call with his across the ocean girlfriend. Suho’s actually thinking to type something, but he took too much time to contemplate, Minho gave up already.

He grabbed his hair so tight, getting more frustrated and threw his phone to the bed before heading to the shower.

***

So, I hope the setting of tumblr doesn’t wrecked how it is looked in my AFF because I just don’t have time right now to fix the mess here. I will try on this weekend. After I’m done cleaning my shoes tho. Anyway. Enjoy, lovelies! XOXO

[whyareyouyellingatme]

A post I deleted in the end

Here's one of the most personal/long things I've ever posted, and if you hate me you'll probably have a field day laughing at this one. I don't know how long it'll take before I maybe...delete it. I don't want anyone to respond with likes or comments. If you have something to say you can pm me, but I don't enjoy talking about it outside of one ong rant. I rant like this so I can jot it all down for records / evidence I'm not irrational, and then move on.

Here's the TL;DR: Rick Ranquist - 40+ years old, lives in Utah possibly Michael Aigner - mid 20's, probably lives in Bellingham by the pool Cooper Texeira - My age, lives in Seattle and goes to my school

All these men are white sexual offenders that did not get a punishment for their crimes.

When I was seven my 20+ year old babysitter did stuff with me that I did not understand, and I don't properly remember a lot of it. I thought it was a game, but it was actually doing sexual favors for a pedophile. I read a line in "The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe" about a man trying so hard to forget something unpleasant that he eventually succeeds in forgetting it. I tried to do that with the memory, and it sort of worked until I heard his name, Ricky. My brother said, "Remember when Ricky----" and that's all I heard before I started dissociating and everything was like someone was smothering me with a pillow.

His sister called me a liar when I said "your brother does weird stuff with me and plays games I don't understand". I decided if she didn't believe me, nobody would, because she was my neighbor and my friend. She still doesn't know today I was telling the truth.

I got raped when I was 19 by a 23 year old that had been grooming me since I was 16. I tried reporting it to the police and they laughed at me, nearly hanging up on me. I went to the ER, got a cervical exam while a doctor ogled my vagina with awe (because my relatively young genitals excited him, how professional). The taxi driver saw me crying and said "you put him on a list! Get him on a list!" and nope, he didn't get put on any kind of list. That fucked me up for a long time. I was numb for a long time. I just watched non stop television and didn't think. I can remember the exact outfit I put in a brown paper evidence bag, and I can remember the exact outfit I wore for days afterwards. I really changed as a person after that. Being isolated from all your friends and spending 3 years dedicating all your time to a shitty abusive man that made you think everything was your fault. Not fun.

Weirdly enough, a man who's in my family pushed me not to report the rape or try pushing for anything else from the police, because he thought it would traumatize me further. I gave up. I didn't want to see Michael, he made me sick. I was partially relieved I got out of the cycle of abuse, but I held on to a rage for a while . I still feel it if I think too much about it. I get really angry but it helps nothing because what can I do ? I'd imagine scenarios where I got to kill him as revenge.

It looked really cute on the surface! It looked like I was having a good time. But I was having panic attacks every week trying to make him happy, despite the beatings, despite the yelling (bc that's normal in my household so I thought it was normal in relationships) until the day that he went way too far.

I really thought it was my fault and that I deserved it for being stupid or not good enough. I was too focused on a very heavy school schedule and an eating disorder/self harm problem to realize I could do better for myself. Of course all of his friends saw me as a "crazy bitch" as he was beating me, real nice. His family was really racist and he broadcasted all of our arguments to them. His sister threatened to hit me with a wrench, not knowing/caring that her brother was already beating me. All of them just kind of watched whenever I broke down crying in front of them. His dad said "women get like this", I'm not...a woman. Not for someone like you dude.

Michael showed up at my house a couple days after it happened too. He stalked me for a while. I still get freaked out being alone sometimes. I have a knife collection and pepper spray, and even guns, but none of them make me feel as safe as a genuine friend does. I'm easily startled and for a while I had really horrible nightmares and panic attacks in public. It got a little better with time, but I still have really bad days. It's still difficult going anywhere near medical centers or dealing with cervical exams.

(I tried speaking with a nurse about the possibility that I have PTSD from that event, and she brushed me off with a "Women used to get raped all the time and they would have to just deal with it. You should lose some weight." Which started up my eating disorder again...horribly enough, people have been so cruel to me but I still care so much what they think.)

I tried faking confidence and happiness in college. I don't have a supportive healthy family, I just have me and whoever decides to be my friend. I made a friend group and went to parties with them. That was fun until a person I trusted grabbed at me when I was incredibly drunk. He led me to his room where I passed out. I wasn't sober enough to understand what was going on or even walk properly, and he texted people things from my phone saying that I was okay. It was all just kind of stupid honestly.

I woke up the next day in my room, on the floor, feeling kind of gross and even more gross as I try to figure out what happened the night before. He shows up at my work wanting me to serve him ice cream. I go in to report him because he did end up grabbing me without consent.

I lost my friend group. And after describing him grabbing my chest and ass in a disgusting amount of detail to a man that said "I remember being a young man and partying in college" with a cheerful nostalgia, I lost the case too. He didn't get anything. At this point I was kind of used to being treated like a piece of meat, so I was just mad he didn't learn anything. In fact, he has been checking up on me online to find dirt on me and report ME to the school for talking shit. His girlfriend has been doing the same, angry because she thinks he was trying to cheat with me. Cheating is consensual.

People just don't learn sometimes. I'm not a thing. I'm an nb lesbian though, and the guy that tried stuff with me when I was drunk knew that. He thought he could convert me.

I've been going through all of this without therapy, trying to just go to school. I tried telling a counselor about my situation and he said "those are long term problems that the university cannot handle".

Maybe I seem quiet and aloof, maybe I'm annoying to you, maybe you think I'm a liar or something stupid like that. But god damn it, I am a human being. I've been through some gross shit. I'm tired of people touching me and trying to invade my space. I'm tired of creepy ass college professors comparing me to their girlfriends and saying shit like "things aren't going so well with her". It's never a compliment you're just fuckin weird dude.

I'm super disconnected from reality even now (sometimes) because I don't like thinking about any of this. I stayed silent about it for quite a while because of all the people who probably wouldn't believe me. But uhhhh fuck you guys I know who I am.

This is a really personal story, especially very personal to be posting on facebook. It makes me feel super vulnerable, but not as much as having the memories bouncing around in my head nonstop makes me feel. I have a girlfriend now and I'm living in a pretty safe place at the moment. There's a lot of other shit happening in my life, my PTSD dog (one of my only sources of comfort in a bad time) got hit by a car and died. :( You all probs know about that, I just miss her when I think about the past. So I've just been trying to figure out how to help myself, you know?

This post got really fucking long and I don't feel like editing it. If you ever think I'm quiet, it's because I'm tired of explaining myself. I want to be my usual joke-y self but sometimes that feel really fake. I don't like thinking about all of this, but I think someone should know.

I wanted to write this post when I was sure I could finish it without crying. It has been a while since something super bad has happened to me, and that distance between the event and reality really helps muffle the emotional response.

Cheers to the survivors that aren't "good" survivors that react a specific way. Cheers to those of you that aren't comfortable sharing your story because it's really not anybody's business unless you want to say something.

I don't know, I still try and have fun, pretending nothing happened. I hate this crap. I hate the emotional baggage. Wish I could chuck it, but my brain has a different plan.

Like, all of this shit happened on TOP of me living in an extremely abusive home so you can imagine I tried to kill myself.

I'm a human being. Stop treating me like shit. I'm tired of it. I'm also not as mean as I look, I don't bite. I'm here for you as a friend if you need it. I just couldn't sleep tonight because of all this crap.

Please don't react to this I'm just babbling. I don't want to deal with people that have no empathy for my long ass story just because it's long / badly written. I'm just tired. I'm soooooo fucking tired.

Edit: I'm trying to reread this just once, but I can't even do it. Like not because it's hard, I literally just look at the words and they mean nothing. My brain basically put up a firewall against upsetting shit so I lose touch with reality whenever I get near it for too long. It's hard describing dissociation but if you would like to know more u should google it. A weird time. Anyway gn I'm alright I just needed to fucking let it out.