#i will probably edit this a bit tomorrow!

[natasha-in-space]

Are Chaewon and Rika like an established couple? Sorry if that's a weird question, haha (⌒_⌒;)

Not a weird question at all!! Any and all questions about my OC's are more than welcome, I'll happily ramble about anything.

And the short answer is: no.

The longer answer is: it's complicated. Do they ever get together as a fully established couple in my canon? No, they do not. Maybe years down the line after Mint Eye is destroyed and they both find peace within themselves and atone for their crimes... But it's highly unlikely, honestly. Their ending is not a happy one.

Chaewon has been infatuated with Rika since their first meeting, that infatuation gradually blossoming into genuine love and appreciation for her as a person once they become friends. Chaewon loves her romantically, but she also loves her as a dear friend. She never really tries shooting her shot. For all she knows, Rika is perfectly happy with Jihyun, and she is no competition to him when it comes to Rika's heart. She's not as generous on words, nor is she all that smart to keep up with all the philosophical talk they do. So, she stays pining. Is that healthy? No. But Chaewon, at the time of meeting Rika, is a pretty isolated individual. In a way, she feels like Rika is one of the only good things left in her life.

That is to say... the seeds for turning her love into something more twisted and unhealthy were always there. But that doesn't mean they wouldn't work out if things were different.

Is that love mutual from Rika's side? In truth, yes. But she never gets to process that or admit that to herself. Not fully, anyway. She only fully comes to terms with her love for Chaewon as a fully romantic one when the Mint Eye is destroyed and she sees Chaewon be put at risk for her sake. Before it all went wrong, she genuinely viewed Chaewon as a good friend. In time, she even became her closest friend, after Jihyun and Mika, of course. She still kept a noticeable distance between them. Too terrified to show her 'real self' to anyone but V.

In a way, they both viewed each other as better than the other. And that kept them from ever actually opening up to each other fully. Rika thought of Chaewon as a strong-willed, determined woman that she couldn't help but admire. She wished she could be strong like her, without being cruel.

Once Chaewon follows Rika and becomes a part of Mint Eye and her personal bodyguard? Things get even more complicated. They never put a label on what they have. Never refer to each other as lovers, or partners. Everyone in Magenta knows that Chaewon has a special connection to their Savior, as she trusts her with her safety wholeheartedly and always listens to her input. But that's very much it. They are not affectionate in front of other believers. Not physically nor emotionally. Chaewon shows her devotion through direct actions, and Rika does so by letting Chaewon make her own choices freely. It's subtle. The only one who ever notices it is Ray and Saeran.

In Mint Eye, Chaewon becomes Rika's rock that she relies on. And Rika becomes Chaewon justification for everything she does. While before they were two people with mutual attraction that wasn't acted upon due to poor communication, now they become two codependent people using each other to feel better about themselves. Now it's definitely unhealthy.

Not that either of them cares.

Behind closed doors, they are affectionate. They hold hands, caress one another, they even get intimate with one another on more than one occasion. With Chaewon, Rika gets the feeling of control and adoration she craves. While Chaewon gets to indulge in fantasies she never got to have before that.

But she's still not V. And Rika's obsession with V never actually goes away or takes second place.

And Chaewon doesn't challenge her on that either, for fear of losing her affection. That's why she grows to resent V as much as she does. While before she used to bitterly accept the fact that Jihyun was simply better than her, not it feels like he is actively taking Rika away from her. Her hatred of V is a reflection of her own insecurities about not being good enough.

Their relationship is ALSO the reason Rika grows to resent Natasha in turn. She sees herself in Natasha. An alternative 'what if', if only she wasn't too scared of being open and vulnerable with another person.

While Rika's and Chaewon's relationship is a gradual change from a relatively healthy beginning into an unhealthy and codependent one, Natasha's and Ray's/Saeran's relationship is a change from an unhealthy situation into a genuine connection built on mutual trust and understanding. They are parallel to each other.

Do they ever get to the 'I love you' stage? Chaewon whispers those words to Rika many times, often while they are laying in bed together and, for a moment, it feels like it's only the two of them in the entire world. But Rika only manages to say it back when she begs Chaewon to escape right before Magenta (and Mint Eye as a whole) gets dismantled. In a way, in the end, Rika chooses to be selfless out of her love for Chaewon. Asking her to escape and leave her, because she wants her to have a better life. And Chaewon chooses to be selfish and stay by Rika's side through it all. Something she seemingly has always done, but never fully let herself admit fully.

They do get to express their true feelings to each other in the end, in a way.

They get separate after that, and they each have a journey of attunement and self-discovery ahead of them. Will they ever cross paths again and start anew? I genuinely don't know. It's left to interpretation, depending on the universe I'm working with :)

[amelia-yap]

through the heart!

[overly-verbose]

Seriously, bro's a professional yapper lmfao

Tbf it's not completely unprovoked and he does just want to at least try explaining some things, if in a roundabout way, to make people more at ease (if not in the moment then overall) but, well-

sometimes it has the opposite effect lmao 😂

Also like, it's absolutely hilarious how I thought

'oh but this is just, like three scenes - how long could this be'

but all the freaking talking and stuff that everyone's doing is making Part 8 the second longest in the series 😂😂😂💀😂

(I fear for my poor brain, man - we've only just barely almost covered the Detention Center Arc

(and a little bit of the VS Mahito Arc Mahito Gets Curse PTSD Arc but I do wanna fill in some of the gaps between those)

and it's already gonna be over 40k words???

Why am I being so ambitious for my first ever proper writing project frrr *perishes a bit*

but I do hope to get it to the end - and beyond because there's no way I wouldn't constantly add to the post-main-plot shenanigans lol - however long that takes heh (just try to be patient with me pls I try my best here 😂) 👍)

[miafeystits]

i hate when common advice is correct. turns out you do in fact get better at writing from writing and reading a lot! who knew!

[tokiwarcube]

i am normal about Fucking That Middle Aged Man

[doctorweebmd]

13000

...oh shit. i think its done.

[mirrortouchedsea]

Day 15

“Tatsumi-senpai, have you ever kissed anyone?” Kaname asked, sitting across from the other boy in the catacombs. Everyone else had left for the night leaving the two of them alone. 

“Why are you asking?” Tatsumi replied, confused as he moved one of his chess pieces on the board. Kaname didn’t know anything about how the game worked and was mostly just guessing at where the pieces moved. 

“A-ah it’s nothing, I was just wondering…I haven’t kissed anyone.” Kaname could feel his face heating up. God this was embarrassing, why was he doing this? 

“I haven’t kissed anyone either.” Their game of chess forgotten for the moment. Kaname’s face burned even hotter. 

“Would you--would you like to try kissing?” He barely squeaked out. How was the great Kaname Tojou such a loser when it came to his crush? He should be confident and yet here he was. 

“Can you repeat that, Kaname-san?” He loved the way his name sounded in Tatsumi’s voice. It made him want to die in the moment though. 

“Can I--Can we try…kissing?” His voice was still soft but evidently loud enough for Tatsumi to hear if the slight blush on his face was evidence of anything. Tatsumi gently moved their chess board to the side and slid closer to Kaname. Kaname felt his heart rate pick up at the proximity as Tatsumi leaned in closer. 

How was he supposed to kiss? He tried to remember the movies and how they did it, closing his eyes and letting Tatsumi guide him, his lips slightly parted. The moment Tatsumi’s lips touched his he thought he would fly, and evidently his mouth moved before he could think, as Tatsumi let out a yelp and brought a hand to his lips. 

Kaname bit him. Oh how embarrassing! It wasn’t enough to draw blood but still! 

“I’m so sorry Tatsumi-senpai! I didn’t mean to do that! Oh god--” 

Tatsumi laughed. Kaname stopped in his tracks as Tatsumi continued laughing. He wasn’t laughing at Kaname, though, or at least not at Kaname as a person, but rather at his reaction to the whole thing. 

“It’s okay, Kaname-san. We can try again if you’d like.” 

“Y-yes I’d like that very much.” 

They leaned in again and Kaname clenched his jaw to keep himself from biting Tatsumi again, but he got a little overeager again and felt their heads bump into each other and not where their lips were (which was where he was aiming for). Kaname curses under his breath but Tatsumi giggles again (a heavenly sound to Kaname’s ears) and cups his face before gently guiding him to Tatsumi’s lips. 

Kaname was too in shock to do anything for a moment. He was kissing someone. And not just someone. He was kissing Tatsumi Kazehaya, heartthrob of Reimei Academy. He closed his eyes and relaxed, reaching to grab Tatsumi’s blazer and pull him closer. He felt their teeth clack together but it wasn’t as bad as their first attempt and for Kaname, that was enough. 

They pulled away, panting heavily, and Kaname noticed that Tatsumi’s pupils had dilated. He wanted to pull Tatsumi in for another kiss but held himself back, at least for a moment. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Tatsumi spoke, breathless and full of affection. 

“No, it wasn’t.” Kaname pulled Tatsumi back in for another kiss, narrowly avoiding bumping their heads together again. He could do this forever, just him and Tatsumi in the catacombs, kissing to their hearts content. 

[graciousdragon]

guys...keep your eyes peeled tonight or perhaps tomorrow morning for I Have Cooked Something

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Head in my hands wondering if I'll have to cut the entire Chume Labs section out because it's more suited to being a different chapter, but also knowing the next chapter can't have it either so I might have to cut it from this fic entirely aaaAAAAAAAAAA

[victorluvsalice]

DISHONORED -06 Survival by EagleEyePT

I accidentally missed Song Saturday last week (dealing with stuff at home), so to make up for it, let's have Song Friday and Saturday this week! Starting with a very short piece from the Dishonored soundtrack that I am quite fond of! Now, I have not actually played anything from the Dishonored series, and I've only recently become familiar with said soundtrack, so what is this doing here?

Simple -- this is the theme for the chase sequence in Chapter 5 of "Start At The Beginning...Sort Of." (Well, Chapter 4 by my count, since the first chapter was a prologue, but -- you get what I mean.) As per the author's note, I ended up editing most of that particular bit to this piece of music! What happened was, I became familiar with some other bits of the Dishonored OST thanks to a "Blades In The Dark"-themed playlist I encountered on YouTube (thank you G. Menezes Fink for putting it together), and when I got to the chase sequence, I decided I'd look for some more Dishonored music to see if anything fit the tone I wanted. I then encountered this particular theme in a longer video of the entire OST together and realized it was perfect --

And then went "wait, what, it's only one minute long?!"

Cue me desperately trying to find an extended version of the theme, failing, and having to settle for making this little video loop constantly while I was writing. *shrug* It did the job! So yeah, only makes sense that I would feature it here. :)

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

CRYING SCREAMING THROWING STATIONARY THE CURSE OF BEING A DISCOVERY WRITER WHEN YOU'VE GOT SOME BUT NOT ALL OF YOUR SHIT FIGURED OUT!!!!

[mindsmade]

here's my two lazy ass edits again to introduce you to my big idiot druid, aerendyl. carrd can be found here – it's a bit of a wip and i still need to add the choices made so far, but it'll do for now ......

[jakeabel]

ok turned in my second to last final essay 👹

[essektheylyss]

The Damn Book is up to 10k edited which is about 10% which is GREAT, but even more importantly, I have RESTRUCTURED THE FUCKER which means I should be able to proceed a lot more clearly.

[morning-star-joy]

Good morning (afternoon/night/timezones are wonky) loves! I hope you're all having a good start to your week!

I started working on a False God inspo oneshot last night, I'm having lots of fun with the religious imagery and descriptive word choice in this one. It's looking like it's gonna be a tiny bit smutty too hehe.

Also, as a little treat becus I love you guys and also becus I’m vibrating with excitement for the next chapter, here's a few lines from Joel's POV scene from Chapter 17 of a stranger's heart:

[appledotcodotuk]

Pub Quiz Crusaders

The pub is loud. There is a logical reason for this wall of noise: it is a Saturday night. A time for people to peel themselves away from work and muster their best impression that it, in fact never existed. Such concepts are almost always considered in the abstract, really. On the TARDIS, every night and no night is a Saturday. And as for the work, well what was that saying about loving what you do? Still, not everyone was of the same opinion, and because she had finally worn him down (with precisely 27 seconds of pouting) he had let her choose a place to take a break.

Here he was, tucking himself into a corner of a beer-stained countertop, and trying to look like he was considering the drinks menu. Far more out of place amongst chatter and small talk than on the surface of a new planet. In the background, the noise begins to hit somewhat of a fever pitch: the walls are practically creaking under the collective weight of jabbering arms: condensed sweat dips clammy fingertips into concave divots where elbows bend and flesh meets flesh.

It is really quite incredible, The Doctor finds himself thinking - the way the human body takes an absolute mass of contradictions and turns them into something absolutely spectacular. In his humble and unasked for opinion, to see something so at odds with itself in motion was downright mythical. It shouldn’t work! And yet, every step a human takes is with the sort of self-righteous determination in the face of impossibility that only a human can make. Frankly, he was surprised people could even focus. Why didn’t they just say bugger this for a lark let’s just sit here and look at each other for a moment, more often – if it was ever said at all? Typical really. You give people a body that is just beautiful, really, genuinely, just quite marvellous – so enduring, so adaptable, so… soft – and they don’t even take the time to appreciate it.

Perhaps it was the lack of novelty. His last regenerating had been comforting in teh way thrusting your hand into a fireplace, and not caring if the flesh started to show flashes of the white that lay beneath was: at least you were still warm. New body, new senses, same old thoughts. He liked the feeling of being shaped. Putter around piloting the same bundle of meat, bones and nerves long enough, and the marvel of cornea-to-pupil-to-iris adjusting, constructing, fitting, to-lens-to-retina, that pulsing field of bright light and electricity which dance along the nerves and flood you with colour and shapes from the inside out is given the limp, and utterly inadequate misnomer of ‘seeing’.

From across the bar, Rose is laughing at somebody else’s joke. If he had the sense to, he might have felt a little bit of resentment towards the pretty young man leaning towards her, pointing across the bar towards some shoulder-brushed poster in the far flung reaches of his periphery. Rose obliterates the peripheral, anyway. It is not that he only has eyes for her – a ridiculous phrase, how on earth could he fulfil it? He had tried, but the distressing fact about the eye was that there was no way to control what you see – it was just that looking at anything else felt like just as lamentable a waste of his faculties as neglecting the marvels of his own human-but-not-quite-human body. Cripes. He didn’t remember being quite such a fawning narcissist before. But really, he muses, with a darting glance at his horizon-line lips, can he help it? He is Rose’s. He had avoided his reflection quite studiously in those feverish first hours, when he had still had movement in his limbs and consciousness. Attempted invasion aside, he didn’t want his first meeting with this new face to be the mirror’s cold isolation. All he needed, all he would ever need, was to be folded small and whole into the curve of those nut-shell eyes. What do you think? You think, therefore I am.

He had seen Rose for the first time with eyes wearied by war. He wanted to see her again, see her more, see her always. He allows his eyes to flex and concentrate and pull somewhere deep within the echoing chambers of his hearts her face, her smile, her arms and un-held hands. Her fingers fall in a neat little wave as she sees off that grinning idiot (he catches himself, he is not supposed to care) and bounds over towards him.

‘There’s a pub quiz happening tonight.’ She says, and he can see himself reflected in her eyes. Her voice lilts, leaving ample space for a not-question to dangle. The Doctor smiles, and his eye-pooled doppelganger grins back, lazy and slightly crooked because he is hapless and a fool and can’t help himself – can’t help himself? If the Academy could see him now… - but he doesn’t say anything yet. To appear overeager is dangerous. Far better that she give herself over to that intoxicating vulnerability: to want and to show it. ‘Well, I was just wondering if we could stay, ‘s been ages since my last quiz.’

‘Well, Rose Tyler,’ he says, putting that careful enunciation onto her name; savouring the way the syllables roll around this new tongue, ‘Am I in the presence of an expert?’ He asks, wiggling his newly expressive eyebrows. His reward is tenfold: a warm giggle, a light tap on his shoulder. ‘Well… in that case I’d be an absolute Graske in a basket to say no, wouldn’t I?’ Now his whole body is swaying; shifting on his squeaky, appallingly loud bar stool and telegraphing everything he tries his level best not to indulge in: the self-satisfied delight of making Rose Tyler laugh. The moment is sweetened by the undeniable fact that her laugh is at least 5 decibels, and 50,000 emptrons (a new and very valuable measure of delight he had made up about two seconds ago) higher than anything that ridiculous young man had been capable of. But, because he is both unfathomably better and smarter than Rose’s newly acquired strutting fool, he tries his best not to show it.

‘Oh, just you wait. I’ll go sign us up!’ She turns to leave, but not before reaching over and squeezing his hand.

The ‘Buh’ he mutters is thankfully, mercifully dashed against her retreating back. Wouldn’t do to be lost for words moments before he’d need to put those words to use. Rose Tyler had a special ability to render him speechless; to snatch the words, which this body clung to so stubbornly, from his mouth and scatter them in the void itself. He had never been this chatty in his last form. When he was alone in the console room, and caught a gaze of himself in the Time Rotor, hovering over the Heart, he sometimes wondered if this body was an apology. Repair. The opportunity to speak all the words unsaid, and yet simultaneously say absolutely nothing at all. He really was still the same man.

He stares down at the treacherous appendage, flexing and clenching and always the main recipient of Rose’s affections, with a mixture of inexplicable jealousy and delight. He had scared her. Even when everything was alright, because Rose was travelling with him again, it had been snowing ashes, and his hand had given her the creeps. Horrible things, the creeps. A shiver up your spine packaged into a phrase that felt whimsical: the name for a band dealing exclusively in Halloween covers perhaps. He had always loved the concept of novelty covers. Take the same old song, repurpose it a few times, twist a few lyrics here and there – it was an admirably bald-faced mixing and mashing. She had looked so frightened huddled behind the branching coral of his beautiful ship. He had been so ready to pounce on the danger, only to realise her eyes were on him. Can you change back. Change back. Give him back to me. He had really tried for a moment. Begged his cells to unspool their DNA, to turn back the reel and project the face she trusted back onto the shifting flesh that had formed his new, soft head. But even as he considered it, he knew. There was no going back. Not for either of them.

‘Alright, so, there’s a few different categories: History, Science, General Knowledge, Literature and … God! What was the last one?’ She’s back. The Doctor swings around to face her in a way that he sincerely hopes is at least a little more suave and cool (since when had he needed to be cool?) than it feels. ‘Oh, I HATE when this happens.’ Her foot taps a quick frustrated tempo, and unconsciously a finger rests itself against her bottom lip. The Doctor tries very hard to defy the independent and localized gravitational field of Rose, a law that Newton would certainly find he had severely neglected to consider, but part of him knows the resistance is cursory. So he steals a glance at her lips. They’re working their way around a word, trying to put air to those flashing bolts of electric thought. ‘It’s right on the tip of my tongue! M… M…’

‘M….oney? M….artians? M…ovie-‘

‘Movies! Yes! You’re brilliant, you are.’

She’s joking, mostly, but the simper that it produces is fully and abashedly authentic.

‘Course I am. So! Rose Tyler: Trivia Master Extraordinaire, what is the strategy for tonight’s battle of wits?’

‘Hmm, well, my second-in-command, we have a simple goal. Win.’

‘Hm! Short and to the point, I like your style.’ He pauses, trying to delay the words from coming out of his mouth but they’re already being flung into the air by his tongue tapping cruel rhythms into his teeth and: ‘I’m so glad to have met you’ come barreling out, far too light for the history that drags the sentence towards the floor. Mangled, like a record player that scratches as it plays.

She stiffens a little. Imperceptible to most humans, hardly worth noticing for any species with superior sight. But he notices, and he also knows that there is no hiding their shared awareness of that moment, of the words that call to a past neither of them are quite willing to address with sincerity. But, there is the perfect cover, because in the ruddy glow of fire burning red in beer and the cheeks of its drinkers, over a pub quiz, it is easy to shoo sincerity away.

He takes her hand. Hesitates. She interlaces their fingers and smiles. It is returned. Of course it is. He grasps for more words, always more words. Words to fill the holes that words tear. ‘Come along, Trivia Master Extraordinaire, the scene of our grand victory awaits!’

Their competition: a young couple who, when they weren’t canoodling (Rose had practically guffawed at that word when he’d said it, but no other phrase came close!) were taking sips of rapidly decreasing beer and a pair of mothers who had surrendered their sheet to the creative flourishes of their youngest had stood absolutely no chance. Rose Tyler and The Doctor, team name: TARDIS (Truly Amazing paiR of Dilemma Interpreters and Solvers) an acronym so strained that the owner, when handing over their prize had paid homage with a grumbled gesture of ‘you lot’, had entered the melee and emerged with nothing less than absolute victory. They had been harsh, and at times, merciless. A fumbled phrasing, a half-remembered title was given absolutely no leniency. All’s fair in love and war. With an exactness, precision, and an intimate apprehension of historical events that went against the received knowledge of ‘History’ (it would be at least half a century before The Doctor would forgive the two lovebirds for their skepticism at his assertion that Dickens had encountered real ghosts alongside the four featured in A Christmas Carol - thus tallying the score to at least the mid-50s – but a jab in the ribs from Rose had silenced him) it would’ve been daylight robbery to give them anything less than first prize.

Cradling their spoils: a single bottle of champagne that Rose had commented was often half-off in the pub’s local, they stumbled their way home. Home. Of course, the TARDIS was home for him. But it surprised him how quickly home had expanded to include her in it. Her cheeks were warm, and slightly pink from the cold and the drink. He has no excuse for the light pink that flushes his face with a warmth, a semblance of humanity. Alcohol has no effect: he doesn’t feel the cold. But, hand in hand with his best mate, he finds himself wondering if drink could ever produce this rush, this ecstasy. The Doctor and Rose in the TARDIS, solving planetary crises or cruising by the estate for pub quizzes. It was right, it was safe. It was as natural as the way their arms curled around each other, interlaced like an embrace.