#my activity on here has been close to nonexistent but here have this i wrote it like two weeks ago

[dangerousduckcloud]

take my hand, i'll fly you to the stars - a superbat oneshot

Clark Kent, Daily Planet reporter, doesn't know that Bruce Wayne is Batman. Bruce Wayne, Gotham's billionaire, doesn't know that Clark Kent is Superman. So when Superman confesses he kissed Bruce Wayne in front of Batman one day, there's only one reason as to why he began acting weird with him. Batman's homophobic. or: two idiots in love that don't know how to communicate and instead make their own assumptions.

Read it also on AO3

I know I should be writing for 'Flowerbeds' but I got a bit of writer's block and I had this idea in my head for a while so I began writing a bit to get inspiration for the fic, but I got too much inspiration for this fic and so I wrote it all. Sorry.

English is not my first language.

𓆩𓆪 Being a reporter comes with a lot of benefits; you are privy to information before anyone else. You uncover truths, bring down empires. You’re the voice of the people, helping to be heard those whose voice is underwater.

You fall in love.

Although, well, maybe that last one is not exactly tied up with the job description, but for Clark Kent, Daily Planet reporter, it sure felt like it. Born out in space and raised in a Kansas farm, the possibilities of being invited to a Wayne Charity Gala were close to none. Nonexistent. Zero. He would’ve been turned away by security the moment he set foot in the vicinity had it not been by his neatly plasticized reporter ID, confirming his name on the list.

Though, for most, ‘invited’ might be a bit of a stretch, more like Cat Grant had gotten sick and there was no one else available to cover the event.

Point is, he’s here now. His tall, broad figure easily ignored by the one percent that with just one glance at him knew he didn’t belong; they could sense his suit was off the rack, his glasses from the dollar store, his watch older than most people here, a gift from his Pa when he turned eighteen, a Kent heirloom that’d been passed down every generation from father to son.

So, no. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t have an expensive watch, or a custom-tailored suit, he barely had an apartment that didn’t leak every rainy season, but that didn’t matter. He was here to do a job, hoping ‘Clark Kent, clumsy Daily Planet reporter’ would strike enough pity with the guests to grant him an interview.

“Mr. Paul!” Clark squealed, his voice breaking at the end, an ability he’d perfected over the years to sound natural, his pen ‘accidentally’ falling from his hand, clattering to the polished marble floor. The stifled chuckles were still loud enough that he didn’t need to make use of his super hearing. “Do you have anything to say about the recent allegations regarding your company’s involvement in money laundering?”

Clark liked to believe he was a good man, with honor and a strong sense of justice. He cared about the safety of every single soul that wandered this earth, be it human or animal. Yet he still allowed himself from time to time to take pleasure when nagging people about their criminal activities.

The mighty, haughty smile on Mr. Paul’s face fell, a sour look replacing it.

“There’s not much I can say that hasn’t been on the news already. We discovered the person behind it all and we’ve left the police to handle the matter.” A generic, simple, memorized answer that Clark was sure his PR team had advised him to learn by rote. The words covering the reality that he most likely had paid someone enough to not do anything about it.

“There are rumors the money was found on one of your bank accounts off shore.”

“It’s just that, rumors.” Mr. Paul said acerbically. “Such a brilliant mind as yours should know better than to believe what the common mouth spews. A shame, Mr. Kent, that quite an outstanding reporter as yourself has been reduced to writing gossip columns.”

“That’s why I’m here, actually. To stop the rumors. Wouldn’t you want an outstanding journalist writing on your behalf?” The man had a reply ready on his lips, only to die down before it could come to the light. His mouth was left open like a gaping fish, the gears on his mind working overtime. “That is, if you’re telling the truth.”

Saved by the ring, the executive lift of a finger to politely shut him off, a frown on his face at whoever the caller ID showed on the screen. “One moment, please.”

Mr. Paul walked away to an open balcony facing the vast gardens, and despite the intensified chattering, clinking of glass flutes and the live orchestra, Clark had no issue eavesdropping on his conversation.

“—Don’t care how. That fucking bald asshole backstabbed me—I said I don’t care. I want him to pay.”

So Luthor was involved in the money laundering. He shouldn’t be surprised.

The rest of his conversation fell back on stocks and irrelevant information Clark couldn’t care about.

He checked his watch for the umpteenth time that night; he was itching to step out of the ballroom and the gala had started just two hours ago, but the main event of the night had yet to make an appearance, the only reason he hadn’t bolted out of the place the second he stepped foot on the marble floors. The reason Perry had sent him here and get something noteworthy to print.

Bruce Wayne. The man every reporter couldn’t get a serious answer out of him that wasn’t laced with an innuendo or the most mindless reply one could think of.

Bruce Wayne. The Prince of Gotham, labeled as the hottest man in the world by several magazines for over ten years straight.

Clark knew about Bruce. Everyone did. He hadn’t had the opportunity to meet the man, but he’d done his research: orphaned at eight, disappeared at sixteen, came back at twenty-three. More children than brain cells, according to some people.

Single. Hot.

Of course, Clark was an alien, but he had eyes and they always had a feast with every photo published of him that were now stored in a secret folder on his phone. He’d watched all of his past interviews to learn about him, about topics he’d already talked about, about what holes in his stories he needed to clarify, what projects he needed to update on.

And he’d re-watch them again. And again. Despite not needing to after the first time. His notebook was filled with Clark’s somewhat legible handwriting on charities, school fundings and medical breakthroughs involving the company.

And in between the words, the laughs and the smiles, he discovered something else.

Bruce ‘Brucie’ Wayne was a liar.

The man wasn’t as stupid as he pretended to be. Every single word that left those plump, pinkish lips shaped like a heart and oh so perf— was a lie. Idiotic on purpose. To keep up the façade of a bimbo. But why? Business advantage, perhaps?

The moment he noticed that, he thought he was seeing things, he was becoming as paranoid as his nightly, battyfriend tends to be, reading too much into everyone’s words and actions thinking they all had second intentions. Still, he shared his findings with Lois, who thought it was his slight, minimum, non-existent ‘crush’. And with Jimmy, who thought the man used to have a brain until he started getting hit so many times in all his vacationing accidents he was surprised he was still standing.

No, it wasn’t anything like that.

And Clark intended to find out why.

Bruce Wayne, the man running circles around Clark’s mind (simply because he was a mystery, not because he was almost as tall as Clark, with a stretched suit barely doing its best to hug around his arms and torso without ripping apart and expose his toned muscles to the world, a torso he wanted to discover what would it feel like under his hands, holding tight and drenched in sweat while they both—), had barely stepped one foot in the ballroom before he was swarmed by potential opportunists—err, shareholders, businessmen, reporters and gorgeous single men and women and mothers with single children that would do anything to get their daughters married off to the richest man in Gotham.

All lovely people, Clark was sure.

Brucie didn’t seem to mind, though. Not externally, at least. While on the outside he was all smiles, handshakes and flirtatious jokes, Clark could hear his rapidly beating heart, he could see the way his eyes were scanning the whole place, as if looking for an excuse to escape.

And Clark could easily make a beeline towards the horde of people, throw in one or two questions to which he would probably not receive an answer and twist his responses to whatever way fit him better if only so that he could get back to his hotel room and sleep the night away (yes, he could fly in less than a minute to his apartment in Metropolis, but he wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity of being pampered).

But in lieu of interrupting his conversation with a stunning blonde woman holding him by the arm attempting to seduce him and act like a disreputable reporter, Clark opted to take another walk around the venue, staying out of view.

If he wanted a good interview, or at least a quote with Gotham’s most eligible bachelor, he needed to wait, not corner him like a wild animal.

Maybe the staff had re-stocked the baked brie?

In the few formal events Clark had been invited to, he loved to wander around the food table, eating the hors d’oeuvre and trying not to make faces to some of the ‘delicacies’ rich people loved to eat.

“I recommend the stuffed mushrooms, they’re my favourite.” A deep, alluring voice brought a shiver down Clark’s spine, making the man jump in his place, not expecting to have anyone approach him, much less him.

“Mr. Wayne!” Clark had fought with a lot of ethereal beings in his life as a superhero, but no one had come closer to portraying the same kind of divine beauty Bruce Wayne possessed, so out of this world the pictures didn’t do him justice. “It’s—Uh, pleasure to meet you!”

He chuckled. “Bruce, please. Mr. Wayne was my father.”

“Bruce, then.” Clark’s smile was so wide it almost split his face in two, shaking Bruce’s hand with so much enthusiasm until he heard a groan from the billionaire. “I—I’m so sorry, I—”

“Quite a strong hand for a reporter.”

“I… Exercise.”

“I noted.” Bruce’s gaze travelled over every part of his body unabashedly, keeping his injured hand close to his chest. This time, Clark wasn’t pretending to be clumsy, he was flustered and anxious. “Usually, I would rather be left alone, but why is it that a Pulitzer winning journalist favours to hover the food table rather than getting an interview with me? Am I that uninteresting?”

“Not at all, Mr—Bruce! I was just… Wait, you know about me?”

“Of course. I read all about your piece on ecological alternatives to reduce carbon emissions. I’ve been a fan ever since. In fact, I implemented quite a few of your ideas on my companies.”

He wrote that almost a decade ago.

He’s been noticed by him for that long?

“Thank you, Bruce. It’s good to know someone like yourself cares about the environment.” Ever the journalist, Clark already had his trustful pen and paper in hand, riffling through the notes from the night to find a clean page. “If you let me, do you have something else to comment on the topic?”

“Well, my parents always taught me to give back to the world that helped us be where we are now.” His words were sincere, coming from the heart. “Be it the people or mother nature, and without her, we’re nothing. So I urge people, but most importantly my well off peers to research how we can help heal our world.”

Are these words coming from the same man who last week said turtles can’t have sleepovers because they always sleep at home?

“And the charity held next month, it’s all due to your youngest son, right?”

“Yes!” Bruce’s face lit up like a child on Christmas day. “Damian is such an animal lover. He brought to my attention there aren’t a lot of animal sanctuaries in Gotham, and the few that exist don’t have the support they need. So, we will be raising money and awareness to help them rebuild their buildings, to give those precious dogs and cats a proper place to live while they’re waiting to be adopted. And to encourage people to adopt and not buy pets as well. He won’t be able to attend as it’s a school night, but he always volunteers in one of them during the weekends.”

His eyes shone with pure love and pride, a broad smile exhibiting his perfect white teeth. A real one, not the kind where it seemed as if it physically pained him to smile when talking to others.

He was gorgeous. And Clark wanted, needed to taste those lips, to savour the cherries he’s been picking off the three-layers cake that now had red stains of where the cherries had been, as well as the shape of his fingers around the icing.

Rao, he needs to know what else those fingers can do.

“You never answered my question, though.”

Yes, Bruce, I will marry you. “Excuse me?”

“Why didn’t you want to interview me?”

How could one man hold so much power? To look at him with those blueish-grey eyes and turn him into putty? To ask him one thing and Clark would spill the secrets of the universe without a doubt. “I didn’t— I mean, I wanted to wait for the right moment. With all those people...”

“Well…” Bruce took a step closer, wandering fingers taking hold of his red tie to pull him even closer, feeling the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. Clark’s neck tingled with excitement, his burning body only comparable to the sun’s heat. “You got it. Now, why don’t we go somewhere quiet and… Finish this interview?”

𓆩𓆪

Life had gone back to normalcy —or as normal as it could be for an alien on Earth. But at least, he’d gone back to Metropolis.

And life had also found a way to ruin his chance to sleep with the most handsome man on earth, though.

Bruce didn’t wait until the gala was over, he barely cared he’d been in there for less than thirty minutes before he took Clark’s hand and paraded him around the room on their way to the exit, the warm summer night greeting them on their way out. They’d gone back to Clark’s hotel room, as it was just a block away from the building they were in.

He felt as giddy as a teenage boy getting his first kiss. And turns out he can sweat, as proved by his clammy hands he hoped Bruce didn’t find disgusting. The billionaire didn’t wait a second after they closed the door to start kissing him, touching him everywhere. Clark held his face in between his hands, feeling the strong but delicate skin under his fingers, the small nips and cuts that littered his face.

Why did he have so many of them?

Bruce had already unlatched his belt, pulling down Clark’s pants painfully slow while leaving a trace of wet kisses on his abdomen when he heard it.

‘MOMMY!’ A small, distressed girl was all he could hear. ‘HELP!’

He needed to reach her now, to aid her and taker her some place safe.

But he couldn’t fly out of here just like that.

He stopped Bruce’s hands from pulling the clothes down any further, earning a confused look from the man. “Is something the matter?”

“Yeah. No! I’m, uh.” Clark didn’t know what to do, what to say as to not hurt the man’s feelings. “I forgot… Could you wait here, just a second?”

Before Bruce had the chance to nod, he’d already ran out of the room, clumsily pulling up his pants. The moment he was out of sight, he flew out of the hotel and to the source of the calls for help.

Only to find a girl too scared to go down a slide in the park.

“Are you kidding me?” Clark muttered under his breath. He was glad the girl was in no danger, don’t get him wrong, but he wished she’d chosen another slide closer to the ground.

At least he got a beaming smile his way when the girl noticed him.

Before the girl could take up most of his time, he flew back to the hotel, expecting to find an empty room and lingering traces of what could’ve been. And even though it wasn’t the case, he was still surprised to see Bruce sitting at the end of the bed, briskly typing through his phone.

“You’re back.” He said, raising his head once he heard the door opening.

“Yeah.” Clark replied sheepishly. “I’m sorry about that, I just…”

“No need.” He stood up, a hand raised to politely ask him to quiet down. “I got thinking… It would actually pain me to use you as a one-night stand. And I can’t assure you this could become a regular thing. You deserve better than me.” Bruce placed a soft kiss on his cheek, staying there for more than a second. “I’m… If you ever need an interview, or help with anything, I won’t say no to you.”

And with that, he left. And Clark was chiding himself for letting him go. For not trying to change his mind instead of standing there like an idiot. That he didn’t mind.

But when he thought about it, he did mind. Because there’s no way he could’ve had a taste of Bruce Wayne and not becoming addicted to him like nicotine.

Hero life had taken an unusual rare break as well, with little to no serious attacks but an attempted robbery here and there.

“In more recent news, Gotham’s billionaire, Bruce Wayne was held for ransom two nights ago.” The T.V droned out, taking away Clark’s attention away from the game of Scrabble he and Flash were playing.

Like all nights for the past week, the night-watch at the Watchtower had been long and dull, a sense of pride in his chest at not being needed anywhere in the world. But he still had to stay in there the whole night just in case. “When questioned after his rescue, the man had this to say:”

“Oh, this was real? I really thought they were pretty bad strippers.” The image on screen showed a dirty, bloodied Bruce, with a lip split open, messy hair and a shirt halfway unbuttoned, his tie loose. “So that’s why they taped me up? It wasn’t a kink thing?” That explained the reddened area around his mouth.

Before he could embarrass himself further, a very tired man in a chauffeur outfit asked to have no more questions, guiding Bruce back to a shiny limousine waiting for him.

Was it simply a game for him to appear so dense in front of the cameras?

Back in real life, Flash chuckled, his mouth half-full of a protein bar. “Can you believe someone like him owns half of a city?”

“He’s not that bad.” Clark felt the urge to defend him in his stead, arranging the letters on his tile rack to see if he could form a word with his remaining letters. “He’s a nice guy, actually.”

A nice guy that put Clark’s feelings first, even if they weren’t exactly what the reporter wanted.

Oh the computer behind him, the click-clack of the keyboard stopped momentarily. Taking advantage of the slow nights, Batman thought it best to update the Watchtower’s security system, bringing Robin along, the one you would rarely see without an energy drink. According to Nightwing, the kid was a prodigy with computers, maybe even more than Batman.

“Wait, so you know him?” Flash asked, his hand halfway through placing a tile on the board.

“I’ve… Met him. Once. We, uh...”

“Oh, Sups! There’s a child present!” Flash chuckled. “Our Sups has a crush! It’s his pretty face, isn’t it? Can’t be his brains.”

Despite not facing them directly, Clark could hear Batman putting down his coffee mug with more force than necessary, his super hearing catching on a low, muffled chuckle from the kid.

“I… No.” He sighed, placing I and R on the board to spell ‘liar’. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Guy’s already being kidnapped every other day; he wouldn’t be able to leave his house for the rest of his life if somehow word spreads that he’s dating Superman.”

Flash’s smile waned, slow fingers placing carefully each tile to form ‘soul’. He was unusually quiet for someone that always had something to say, even more if it came to the love lives of everyone in the League. “Cape life’s not easy, is it?”

Clark knew he wasn’t talking about fighting villains.

𓆩𓆪

Bruce knew, sensed chaos bubbling in his son’s mind, sure to ensure as soon as they got home.

Tim had been suspiciously quiet all the way home from the zeta tube location to the Batcave, a leg going up and down repeatedly. And he knew it wasn’t the caffeine from the energy drinks he so desperately wanted him to give up drinking.

“Don’t.” Was the only word he grumbled the moment the waterfall came into view. The dark tunnel gave way to the lights on the cave, his speed slowing down.

“Don’t what?” His question was innocent.

“Don’t say anything.”

“Say what about what?” And he would’ve believe he didn’t know what he was talking about if he was younger, when Tim still needed a booster seat while on the batmobile, but he’d learned to read his face, his big eyes full of naivety that drew the attention away of his true intentions. Bruce was giving him what Dick once so eloquently named ‘the bat-glare’, but his only response was a meek smile, an inconspicuous hand reaching for the door’s handle, waiting for Bruce to unlock it.

He couldn’t hold him here the rest of his life, could he?

With a loud and theatrical sigh, he unlocked the door, and the teenager hurried out of the car and up the stairs leading to the manor, not caring about Alfred’s ‘no capes inside the house’ rule. “DICK, YOU WON’T BELIEVE THIS.” Was all he heard before the clock closed.

There goes Bruce’s peace.

Making use of the few remaining minutes of tranquillity, he sat on the computer, his cowl removed and hanging behind his neck.

So, Superman had interacted with him in his civilian identity.

Question is, when? How? Why? Everyone had agreed they would reveal their identities when they were ready. And Bruce was forced agreed not to investigate them, as they knew he could easily discover it. And he’d kept his promise.

Kind of.

He knew, and understood, how if discovered it would be a total break of their trust in him.

But he also knew this kind of information could be necessary in the —hopefully not probable— case any of them ever went rogue.

Thus, with Barbara’s help, they’d written a code to analyse every bit of information online and compile possible candidates on who was who. Information heavily encrypted and hidden.

Information he was now opening.

Surely this is something he’s allowed to do? It involves him, after all. It might even be Superman’s way of letting him know he knows, and Batman doesn’t.

He scrolled past the names of people that were likely a fit for Superman’s physique and relevant events in the kryptonian’s file. There were quite a few, but the stats always showed a probability below sixty percent. Besides, the names were unfamiliar to him. He could’ve used an alias, but the data didn’t fit his criteria.

All except one.

Clark Kent.

His file had a ninety-eight percentage of being Superman.

Clark fucking Kent. The reporter. The one he almost slept with if it wasn’t interrupted by an Arkham breakout.

He almost slept with Superman.

Before falling into a state of stupefaction at this revelation, he needed to confirm the facts first: he was adopted by a couple in Smallville, Kansas, moving to Metropolis… Right around the time Superman was seen for the first time in the city, but strange sightings and miracle rescues had already happened in Smallville before that, starting when he was around his pre-teen years.

Upon further inspection on his adoption, Bruce was met with an unsuccessful result, as there hadn’t been any records of him before the Kents adopted him; no birth certificate, no archives on his staying at any orphanages, it was as if he didn’t exist for the first few months of his life.

And the adoption agency only handled one case before going bankrupt just weeks after opening. His.

God.

He almost slept with Superman. He was sure of it now.

The man he’s been dreaming with ever since he met him.

When the echoes of hurried steps going down the metal stairs reached his ears, he closed the file, heart beating frantically with this new information, yet his years of training allowed him to keep a stoic face.

“Superman what?” Dick asked, rushing to his side, with Tim closely behind.

“Irrelevant.” Bruce said as he stood up, taking off his gauntlets.

“B, you have to date him.” Dick jogged until he was in front of him, impeding him to escape to the showers. “Can you imagine how cool it would be to have Superman as your dad?”

“What about Batman already being yours?”

“No offense, B.” Tim said, making him turn to looks at him. “But you’re just a regular guy with an unreasonably amount of money enough to buy this.” He gestured with his thumb to the screen behind him, leaning on the desk of the computer.

“Yeah! And Superman is Superman!”

“Hng.”

“Oh, you know we love you.” Dick hugged him from behind, the acrobat’s arms keeping his unmovable, and Bruce knew he was done for when he saw Tim on the computer, fast fingers gliding over the keyboard. “And you’re our favourite… After Superman.”

“And Wonder Woman.” As much as he would forever love to know his second oldest son was home, this was not a good time.

“And Wonder Woman.” Dick agreed, his chin resting on Bruce’s shoulder.

“So...” Jason grabbed a marker from the desk, flipping it on his fingers and getting worryingly too close to Bruce’s comfort. “Why are we dissing Bruce?” Taking the cap off, he drew something on Bruce’s forehead.

He loved his children. He did.

“Superman has a crush on Brucie.” Tim answered, gaze still on the computer. Jason’s laugh resonated through the whole cave, and maybe all this wasn’t as awful as he thought if it meant to hear that sound again in these walls.

The finishing touches to Jason’s art was what he assumed a moustache drawn on the top of his lips, Dick strained his neck to see the result and he couldn’t contain his chuckle, only stopping once they heard a gasp from Tim.

“The reporter?”

Three heads turned to see what he’d discovered, a quarter of the screen occupied by the photo of a brightly smiling Clark that made Bruce feel warm inside, and a blinking ‘98% MATCH’ in red going off and on.

Shit.

𓆩𓆪

“KENT!” Perry’s shout shook the building. And while Clark had perfectly crafted his butterfingered persona and was content when real accidents occurred to keep his cover up, he didn’t appreciate how the sudden yell made him spill the coffee he’d been craving all morning. “KEEENT!”

If years of working for the man had taught him something, was that making him yell for you a third time was a sure way to get yourself thrown to the worst tasks no one wanted to do. Hurrying up, Clark rushed to the editor in chief’s office, closing the door behind him. And before the fastest man alive (he refused to believe Flash was faster than him) had a chance to speak, he was already being thrown his newest assignment.

“Pack your bags, you’re going to Gotham. Again.”

“What for? I can’t, Perry, I’m still working on my investigative piece—”

“You can do it later.” Perry said, lighting up a cigar. “You’re going to another Wayne Gala. The man loves to throw his goddamn parties...”

“And why can’t Cat do it?” Clark complained, an arm pointing to the woman’s desk, visible through the office’s window.

“Wayne asked specifically for you.” The phrase shook him, rose tinting his cheeks. Why would he ask for him specifically? “And the man owns the company, so we can’t exactly say no to him.”

Had he been thinking of their past encounter?

No, it was because of his past article regarding the gala, focused on the actual event rather than the gossip running around, as even the official account of the Wayne family had shared his reportage on their social media.

Surely, it was simply that. Not because Bruce wanted to see him. Or talk to him. He just wanted good publicity for his family and his company.

𓆩𓆪

Once again being shunned by the magnates who could afford to buy a new suit for every event, Clark was casually eating a stuffed mushroom waiting for the horde of guests to stop hogging Bruce’s attention.

The man had been on time for the gala this time, the reason of the event having so much importance to one of his children was the speculated reason for it, something that warmed Clark’s heart. Not many people would care about their children’s interests and beliefs.

He saw Vicky Vale, Toby Raynes, and even Robinson Sprang along with other reporters trying to get a word from him, pushing and shoving each other in efforts of getting their questions answered.

Clark didn’t worry, he’d promised he’d get an interview if he asked, and he hoped the billionaire was a man of his word.

Besides, he’d asked for him to be here. He wouldn’t do so only to ignore him all night.

But the melted cheese and toppings from his appetizer now felt too sticky and plain with the bewildered and flustered look Bruce gave him when he saw him.

It was almost as if he didn’t think he’d show up.

That didn’t him make feel all that confident any more.

Clark left the rest of the mushroom on a small plastic plate, pulling out his creased notebook and a pen he needed to shook a few times to get it to work. He needed to have a backup plan in case his ‘free interview’ card didn’t work.

On this occasion Bruce hadn’t come alone, instead he had the company of two of his sons, his oldest Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson and the third oldest, Timothy Drake.

Both had made their rounds around the ballroom shaking hands with everyone important on site; magnates, investors, the commissioner, even the Mayor was present. And once their presence wasn’t necessary, they’d ditched their father to make a beeline towards the food table.

“You think we should?” Clark heard one of them say. He didn’t need to use his super hearing as the kids weren’t talking particularly low.

“B’s getting lonely and I can only handle so many ‘father-son’ days when Damian’s not around.” The youngest one groaned. So, they’re playing matchmaker, that’s cute of them. “But do you really think it’s him? He doesn’t… Well, you know.”

“If you think about it, it’s the same tactic Bruce uses.”

Whatever they were talking about, Richard’s sentence shut him up, an audible click of his mouth closing and swallowing down any counter opinion he was forming. Clark’s placed his focus on the main event, taking photos of the few areas set up for dogs to be running around freely without tripping with the attendants, taking notes of everything useful for his article, as well as grabbing a business card of the shelters to add them on the note if people wanted to adopt or volunteer.

An hour had turned into two and he’d yet had no chance to speak with Bruce. Clark had rounded the hall once, twice, thrice even. He sat down for a moment to play with an injured chihuahua missing a back leg doing her best to convince him to take her with him to Metropolis.

She was close to winning.

And during those two hours, Clark had noticed the Wayne kids were always somewhere near him, sometimes catching them looking at him.

They couldn’t know about that night, could him?

Of the few times he eavesdrop in their conversation, he never once heard his name, or anything related to him. In fact, he didn’t understand much of what they were saying, as they’d switched to another language he didn’t recognize (that didn’t even sound human, (and he was supposed to be the alien here)) after he caught them spying.

He was on his way to fill out the adoption papers when someone caught his attention.

“Excuse me. You’re Clark Kent, right?” That was Timothy who approached him. The poor kid had more bags under his eyes than a Christmas tree, his face looking a second away from falling asleep in the middle of the Gala. Just what could be so dire to keep a billionaire kid staying up all night?

It couldn’t be parties, Clark was sure. Unlike their parent, none of the Wayne kids old enough had taken to be the life of parties. They rarely were seen in one if it wasn’t hosted by Bruce.

There wasn’t much about Timothy Drake online besides what he wanted there to be; son of the deceased Jack and Janet Drake, taken in by Bruce, suspected to be Wayne Enterprises next CEO, despite barely being legally able to drive.

“That’s me, what can I do for you?”

“We want you to interview our dad.” Richard said, standing behind Timothy. The acrobat also led a private life, albeit a bit more public than that of his brother. He was the son of the world renown acrobats John and Mary Grayson, whom sadly passed away in an ‘accident’ at the circus, taken in shortly after by Bruce. A gymnastics prodigy outshining everyone in all his school competitions during his youth, a mystery to everyone why he never made a career out of it to go to the Olympics despite being highly sought after prestigious team coaches and colleges. “We liked a lot your past coverage, he could use someone interested in something other than his looks.”

Well then, he got the wrong person.

It was a simple and logical request, (he knew the way people treated Bruce, after all), but there was something in the back of his head that was telling Clark not to trust them. At least, not to believe those were their only intentions. The way they smiled and shared a look was unsettling, the kids knew how to be creepy if they wanted to, and there was something in the twinkle of their eyes that only spoke of mischief. Clark might not be a top-notch detective as his nightly friend, but he’d learned to tell when people weren’t being fully sincere.

He wasn’t opposed to the idea, he was here to do that after all, but he first needed to know what he was actually getting into, why they actually wanted him to interview him, instead of Raynes or someone equally ethical.

However, before he could even reject their proposition, the sound of glass shattering and screams put him on alert, barking echoing around the ballroom. “Oh, great. Not another one.” Timothy mumbled. Were Gothamites plainly this desensitized about criminals taking in hostages?

His eyes were scanning for somewhere to hide while changing into his suit when the cold end of a gun’s barrel was pressed to his back. “To the centre! Now!” Clark complied, if only to not risk the chance of the man accidentally shooting one of the kids. Kids that were much calmer than they should be.

He’s never coming back to Gotham.

The trio moved to the centre of the ballroom, where every attendant and shelter workers were huddled in a circle. “Everything of value in the bag!” Another man shout, holding a dirty, ragged bag in a hand, a semi-automatic gun in the other.

Clark ‘tripped’ with his shoelaces to take the opportunity to slide behind all the hostages, to make his disappearance easier in case things went awry —more than they already are.

There were only three armed men inside. Another sitting in a car Clark assumed must be the getaway. His x-ray vision didn’t reveal any dangerous objects besides the guns being waved in front of his face, but there was something about the car that didn’t make sense to him.

The car had the trunk open, waiting to be filled with the spoils of the night. The thing is, they’re not taking that much stuff to requite the extra space; wallets and jewellery are not that big, after all, it will all fit in the empty seat on the back seats, so what could be the actual reason? Kidnapping, maybe?

But who?

“I love playing rough, don’t get me wrong.” Ah, it had to be him. “But even I think this is a bit overkill.”

“Shut up!” The man holding Bruce by the scruff said, pushing him to the floor and letting the end of his gun crush his hand. Bruce’s howl of pain mingled with the cry of Timothy, ready to get up and run to help his father. He was stopped by Richard, who held him by down by the back vents of his suit and sat him down, hushed whispers being exchanged. It was the only reaction the kid had shown so far tonight.

They’d already taken Bruce outside, leaving only the guy still collecting money, walking backwards towards the exit, his gun pointed at the attendants. The split second he took to turn to bolt out of the place was his mistake, colliding with a body as strong as steel that almost made him pass out. Clark swiftly took his gun, pulverizing it in his hands, the scraps falling to the ground. “I don’t think you were invited to this party.”

The kidnapper’s eyes were wide, full of fear. Clark didn’t need to use any strength to knock out the assailant, a simple hit with his index finger was enough for the already concussed man.

A rumbling vehicle speeding down the driveway was heard outside. Clearly the other men wouldn’t bother waiting for their partner. They already had what they wanted, the things in the bag were just a bonus they could afford to lose.

The car had, of course, not make it far before Clark stood in front, his extended hand pressing down the hood enough for the back to go up in the air for a second before falling. Yet before it could crash on the cobbled path, the kryptonian rushed to hold it and gently drop it, lest he hurts Bruce even more.

Clark made sure the delinquents were unconscious and unable to escape before opening the car’s trunk. “Are you alright, Mr. Wayne?”

Despite looking a bit green and having a broken finger, he didn’t seem to have any other serious injury. Not recent, at least. Clark used his x-ray vision again to check for anything that would need urgent treating, but he was met with the sight of all of the man’s bones broken in several places, several times, some not fully healed correctly.

Just in what kind of accidents was this man getting into?

The billionaire, in turn, was oblivious to the revelation he’d just had. Awestruck and eyes wide, Bruce accepted the hand Clark lend him to get off the trunk, careful not to put too much pressure on the broken finger. “Superman.” He whispered. “I… I’m fine. Just a broken finger. I’ve had worse.”

“No doubt.” Clark mumbled. Wayne looked at him curiously, but shook his head after a second, his dazzling smile back in place.

“How can I pay back the man who saved me?”

“It’s not necessary, Mr. Wayne. I’m glad to be of help. Please, let me take you to a hospital so that you can get treated.”

“No need, I’m sure the ambulance will be here soon.” And true, a siren in the distance was getting closer. “Besides, my sons will worry if they don’t see me, but…” He placed his good hand on Clark’s shoulders, standing on his tiptoes to reach him and place a soft, warm kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Superman.”

𓆩𓆪

Batman hates him. There’s no other way to put it.

It’s not particularly difficult to make the man broodier and angrier, Clark thinks. He just never expected it would be because he’s disgusted by his choice in romantic partners.

He’s never said it outright, but he shows it in the way he’s began to distance himself from the man every time they are together in a mission or in a meeting debriefing. If his hands happened to slightly touch his, or any other part of his suit, Batman pulls away as if he was burned.

Tonight was his turn to keep watch at the Watchtower. And with his unlucky luck, he’d been paired with Batman to do it. It was as if he was back again in elementary school, being forced to do a project with a friend he’d had a brawl with earlier —but this time he doubted ice cream would bring them closer again.

“Evening, Batman!” Clark greeted him once he saw the man walk in on the Observation Deck towards the computer, ready for a night of sitting down in front of the screen until sunrise, waiting for an attack to happen. Clark had been hovering on the air with his legs crossed looking at the Earth through the windows, but his feet touched the floor the moment he saw the dark figure.

Despite always keeping up his appearance of unbreakable, it was clear the bat had had better days. He was weary, walking slowly and grunting with every slight movement of his shoulders.

He hadn’t seen the vigilante in a while, as the man was ever busy with all the criminals running rampant in Gotham after they escaped recently. He and Wonder Woman had offered to help, of course, but being the stubborn bat that he was, he never accepted, despising the presence of other supers in his city.

Which was the topic he wanted to talk about.

“Superman.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of me being in Gotham last week. I know you don’t like it when we step foot in your city, but…” The man’s hand twitched slightly at being reminded his rules had been broken. “I was visiting some friends, and happened to hear the screaming. I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing. I hope you understand.”

Silence filled the room. On the window behind the kryptonian, the dark shadows cast on earth were being eaten away by the slowly rising sun. He should get back home soon if he needed to catch up on some sleep before heading to work —not that he needs to, it’s purely habit at this point. He, as much as anyone else, loved the calm feeling of nothingness sleeping brought.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

The man had always been cold, talking only if needed, but for Clark it wasn’t hard to notice how colder he’d begun acting towards him. He wouldn’t even spare a glance to him.

He never thought Batman would be homophobic.

Clark was conflicted. He didn’t want to get involved into his companions’ personal matters and preferences, but this was something he couldn’t simply ignore, this wasn’t a pineapple on pizza situation, but something far more urgent and relevant to attend to. Clark would always stand up for the people, for humanity, and it didn’t matter to him if they loved the opposite gender, the same, or both or none, the only thing that mattered to him were their actions.

And it raised the question; had Batman ever acted on this belief? Was the man that claimed to fight for justice and peace used it as an excuse to commit hate crimes? Clark didn’t want to even imagine how many people had been wrongfully incarcerated for this—

No, he wouldn’t. He’s a man of honor and integrity. He wouldn’t let his ideology get in the way of what’s right or wrong.

Unless he’s the one deciding what’s right and what’s wrong.

He didn’t know how to approach him. He was distressed. Even though they don’t know each other names, he’d always considered him a reliable ally —how ironic, now.

But now it all made sense. He’d seen Batman work with the Red Hood a few times, and if the red bat symbol embedded in his chest wasn’t misleading, he was also part of their growing colony, probably one of the kids that’d taken the mantle of Robin throughout the years.

He’d also seen how distant both of them were. And he knew Hood was involved in some kind of a ‘romantic mess’ with Arsenal, as Green Arrow once told him in passing.

“I’m surprised Batman hasn’t threatened you already.” Flash nonchalantly mentioned days later. “Or has he?”

“What?” Clark turned to him, his cape slightly billowing. Was it common knowledge the man’s narrow-mindedness? “Why would he do that?”

“’Cause you slept with his boyfriend?”

Clark had to rewire his brain for a second. “What did you say?”

“Oh, come on!” Flash gestured with his hands, bits of granola flying around from the energy bar he was eating. “It’s an open secret those two are dating! How do you think Spooky gets all his toys?”

That would explain why Batman has suddenly turned so hostile towards him.

But… No. It doesn’t explain why he’s also distant with the other guy who’s also dating a man. And he didn’t want to believe sweet Bruce would cheat like that. At least, he didn’t seem the type the other night.

But if it was true… Why would Bruce flirt with him so carelessly if they were indeed in a relationship? Could it be to throw off rumours about them? That would explain why he’s getting kidnapped so frequently.

But he was still acting even behind closed doors.

If Clark hadn’t bolted out of there, would he have found another excuse to leave? Or keep up with the act?

He’s starting to feel used, even more if they’d had a one night stand.

This is all a mess.

He’s a mess.

He should go to the one person that could have the answers.

Even though he’d promised to never come back to this city if he could help it, he still found himself coursing through the high polluted skies in Gotham City, his need for an answer far outweighing the necessity of spending an hour and a half in an uncomfortable bus seat to avoid detection from the bat.

It didn’t take long to find the man he was looking for. He simply needed to keep an open ear for any gunshots heard, as he knew the vigilante wasn’t opposed to using guns.

Clark was concerned about the number of shots heard in one night.

“Red Hood.” Clark said before the man could get on his bike.

“Boy scout.” The vigilante’s stance was calm, leaning on his bike with his arms crossed, yet the beating of his heart gave away he was startled. The robotic voice from the helmet’s modulator reached him. “What brings the Man of Tomorrow to our lovely, green city?”

Walking from out of the shadows and ignoring the sarcasm, he got closer to him.“We need to talk.”

“About…?”

“I know about you and Arsenal.”

Without using his vision to invade his privacy and look under his headgear, it was hard to gauge a reaction out of him with the helmet on. The silence stretched for several seconds, ambulances in the distance filling in the quiet.

“And that concerns you, because…?”

“I… First, I want to say that it’s alright. And if you ever feel that you’re not safe, you can always count on me if you need help.” Clark heard a small ‘what the fuck’ coming out of the helmet. “I don’t know what the extent of your relationship with Batman is, if he’s your father or just a mentor, but whatever it is, you shouldn’t have to be shunned for being yourself”

He raised a hand, only to drop it again. “Look, man, I appreciate the feelings and whatever. But I must know, what the fuck you’re talking ‘bout?”

“I… I thought Batman was mistreating you because you’re dating a man?”

“What?” The robotic voice was high pitched, a low chuckle coming out. “You think B’s homophobic?”

“He’s... Not?”

“Of course not. Hell, me dating Arsenal is probably the only thing he’s approved of ever since I came back.”

Clark wasn’t sure what he meant for ‘came back’, but it wasn’t something of importance right now.

“But then… Oh, so the rumours are true?” Clark sags, coughing to cover up his voice breaking. He felt as if a kryptonite dagger had been stabbed right trough his heart. Bruce wasn’t interested in his feelings in the slightest, he simply had an agenda to keep up. Bruce had tried to sleep with him even though he’s with someone else and in turn he’s also now on the bad side of the Batman.

“What rumours?”

“Batman’s dating Bruce Wayne.”

Hood’s boisterous laughter was hear through the whole alley, placing his hands on his knees for support.

“You’re on your own, boy scout.”

𓆩𓆪

Being a reporter comes with a lot of detriments; you’re exposed to compromising situations. You can easily paint a target on your back.

You get your heart broken.

Although fancying a known playboy wasn’t on his list of reportage to cover and he had no one else to blame but himself, he would still find himself laying late at night wishing to go back in time and not going to that damned gala in the first place.

He hated the bats. He hated Gotham City and he hated everything that’d ever come out of that place.

“Why the long face, Smallville?”

“How would you approach a long time friend that you’re not sure he’s either homophobic or utterly mad because he thinks you slept with his boyfriend?”

“You could’ve just said ‘fine, thank you Lois.’” She joked, leaning on the edge of his desk and taking a careful sip of her coffee. “I suppose talking like two adults is out of the question?”

“He’s an… Angry person, overall.” Clark was reclined on his chair, the eraser part of his pencil lightly tapping his chin. He was supposed to be working on his investigative piece, but with every word written on the page, his mind would find a connection to both Bruce and Batman, unable to keep the topic out of his mind. “He’s part of my… Game night group. He’s a night person. You can see why it’s not easy to simply confront him. I don’t want to create tension between the rest of the group.”

“Ah, I see.” Clark was glad Lois had discovered his identity —he wasn’t in the first place, worried about what it could mean to him and his parents if she ever went public with this information, but she’d vowed to keep it secret and Clark knew she would. And now it was easier to come with her regarding issues arising within the League that he didn’t need to keep dodging around the truth so much that her help wasn’t even useful in those cases. “I’m sorry, Smallville, but I don’t think there’s much you can do besides talking with the man. Maybe he’s not as batty about the situation as you think.”

Clark chuckled at the concealed pun. He bit his lip and his eyes were drawn towards the latest issue of The Daily Planet resting on his desk, half of the front page a flattering photo of Bruce taking up most of the page, his first Wayne Enterprises branch in Metropolis to begin construction next week.

It was painful to know that smile with the dimples he’d been charmed by was just a façade.

Several weeks had gone by since the gala fiasco and the man had already been kidnapped twice. His lucky star —or now that he thought about it, his lucky bat— had helped him leave unscathed just a couple hours later.

Of course Clark would only find out about it in the evening news, as he hadn’t step foot in Gotham since he met with Red Hood. He’d already broken Batman’s promise once and he didn’t want to know what he’d do if he did it again.

The clear sky was painted in a deep blue with tiny, bright freckles adorning it. Clark had taken a couple of minutes after his rounds to admire the vast space that surrounded them and tried to imagine where his home world was once located.

Out of the corner of his eye, a shadowy figure was making its way from rooftop to rooftop, a familiar grappling gun on the silhouettes hands. Clark didn’t bother to be quiet, letting the wind flap his cape and rippling through the silence.

“Funny seeing you here.” Batman grunted in greeting from where he was crouching, pulling out a pair of binoculars and pointing them to a lit window in the building opposite them. “You know, I don’t step foot in your city per your request. I thought the sentiment would be the same.”

“Red Hood told me you did.” Clark’s cheeks tinted red at being caught lying. He coughed and was thankfully saved by the man’s next words. “I’m following a string case of murders and the leads brought me here.”

“You could’ve told me, at least.” His only response was a silent side eye before returning to the window, where the figure was moving left and right until it seemed to lay down on a bed and the lights were turned off.

Clark, being an alien, wasn’t sure if Batman wasn’t one. Or at least a magical being. Autumn was approaching and the winds were picking up speed each night, but despite that, the bat’s cape wasn’t doing noise in the slightest like Clark’s did. “I apologize for my comment the other day.” He wasn’t sure when his body and brain had decided to talk before he agreed on it, but he couldn’t stop now. “I didn’t know you two were...”

“What are you talking about?”

“You, and Bruce. I didn’t know you two were a thing. And you don’t have to worry about me, I won’t get in the way.”

“We’re not… You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Clark crossed his arms, a heated, non-lethal glance thrown to the man standing up. “Because then I’m not sure why you’ve been acting so austere with me. Even more than usual. If you hate me because I kissed the man you’re dating or if you hate me because you’re a bigoted idiot, then please let me know and stop with these childish attitudes.”

He waited one, two, three seconds and the man had barely moved. Clark didn’t know what he wanted to come out of this, but he thought he’d at least would be giving a response. “Figures.” Clark scoffed, walking past the man and doing everything in his power to not shove him with his shoulders, not knowing if he would actually hurt him.

He’d already taken off in the direction of his apartment when a familiar voice called out a name that had no right being said by him. It was a name that’d never come from him, but it strangely seemed to belong to him.

“Clark.” Batman said again, and it had him taking an 180 turn and almost break the sound barrier to reach the man. He expected to see the knight with a smirk on his face, with something on his phone linking everything from Clark to Superman and ready to threat him with leaking the information if he ever did something.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to see the man without his cowl.

“Bruce?”

“I don’t hate you.” The man who spoke wasn’t Batman, nor it was ‘Brucie’. It was simply… Bruce. “Quite the opposite.”

Taking long strides, Bat- Bruce walked until he was so close to him they could almost melt into each other, placing his hands on his cheeks. He didn’t need to stand on his tiptoes this time, as Clark was hovering in the air low enough to be at the same level as him. “Totally the opposite.”

And as the sun rose beside them, they shared the first of what would be a myriad of kisses.

[cryptozoolliegy]

Spring Heeled Jack - Chapter One

Hi so I wrote all of this this morning and my brain is rotten. I may rewrite this later but I REALLY need to get this out so erm

:3

Prev

Next

“You understand that if you try to reveal what happened in this room prior to purchases, there will be consequences, yes?”

“Right. Secrets. I understand.”

4 heard the voices again and the shame returned. He felt so useless now. He needed to hold himself together if he wanted to be useful ever again, though, and that was all he could focus on for the moment. He kept his eyes trained on the blindfold and tried to stop his thoughts. He couldn’t break down. Not here. Not now.

The door opened.

“This is subject 04. He’s been training for 8 years,” Dr Woods began. “He’s carried out over 50 assassinations. He fails very rarely- this year had the rate of least failure, actually. Just once. He's-”

“Why is he blindfolded?”

“It's a safety precaution.”

“...Oh.”

4 tried not to squirm in his seat as Dr Woods came closer.

“Ever heard of Spring-Heeled Jack?”

“... The one from victorian England, or the-”

“The serial killer. The active one.”

“Of course I have.”

“Right. Well… that’s just for your consideration.”

“...”

“I understand you’re looking at multiple options?”

“...Uh, yeah. Yes. I’m… looking at a few.”

“And they’re all on genuine contracts, hm?”

“...”

“This guy isn’t.” Dr Woods clapped 4 on the shoulder. “He’ll be completely loyal. He does have a bit of a… list. Of commands. Needs. That sort of thing. But you won’t need to discover that, we have it written down and we’ll give it to you if you decide to get him.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, I think there’s been a bit of a-”

“Problem?”

There was silence. 4 pressed his lips into a line. No talking. No objection. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t in pain, and therefore he had no reason to speak or react or

“No, no problem. Just a slight misunderstanding, I think.” Unfamiliar footsteps. “Anything else I should know… sir?”

“I think something you should know up front is that he can talk to rats. He actually has one. Emotional support. I’d strongly recommend you take it, actually, that thing’s stopped him from doing a lot.”

“Ah.”

“And-”

“Hey, can I talk to him alone for a sec?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’d like to speak to him.”

“Well, for security reasons, that will be impossible. Sorry. I could remove the blindfold if you really wanted to inspect him further.”

“I would appreciate that, actually.”

Fwish

4 allowed himself one flinch against the light that suddenly streamed into his eyes. Dr Woods stood to his side, and the one who might be the next handler stood directly in front of him. He had curly blond hair and purple eyes, wearing a black jumpsuit with a teal jacket, and he just… stared at 4. 4 didn’t let his gaze linger on him. He settled his eyes firmly into the nonexistent distance, dug his fingers deeper into his palms. He missed the old strategy that the Doctor used, where he didn't have to know what happened or focus or sit here all day. This was boring. It… sucked.

“Can you talk?” The stranger asked.

“Yes, sir.” 4 swallowed. “I can.”

“He doesn't usually,” Dr Woods added. “There's no reason.”

“Oh… okay. Uh…. How about we talk about this outside?”

“Of course.”

Dr Woods left the room. The stranger lingered for a moment, staring, before he left too.

The door closed. 4 breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed, just slightly. Stupid. He shouldn’t have been feeling like this.

He wished Ripley were here. He leaned back in the chair.

Doctor Woods and the stranger didn’t come back.

4 didn’t know how long it was until he finally felt something. A needle was in his neck. It was sudden, and without warning, and he was out very, very fast.

Oh shit. Oh n

-

“Email our network account if you have questions,” Doctor Woods told Peter as he handed him the keys.

“Of course. Right.” Peter tried not to let the strangeness he was feeling be obvious. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He had no intention to follow through, or maybe he did? This was all so weird, what was happening, oh god this was horrible fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

“Good luck.”

Peter stood alone next to the truck.

He glanced at the metal crate tied down to the truck bed. He was stuck with this now.

…Fuck, Mark would be so mad.

Taglist:

@jumpywhumpywriter @silly-scroimblo-whump @littlebookworm69

:)

[implausiblyjosh]

My only thought at the moment is that they squandered so much goodwill and energy. They coulda rode the wave of "these people are weird and awful" to a huge win, and instead the message was centered around fucking over the democratic base and appealing to nonexistent republican voters. I can't get too heated about people who don't vote in a situation like that. And even then, until we know the final results, we won't even know if there was a significant drop in voters from 2020. Also, due to the way the Electoral College works, who knows if those lack of votes would have mattered, you know?

Look at the Jill Stein votes. Even if everyone of them voted Harris, as of right this moment (editor's note: i wrote this originally at 3am), she wouldn't win with those votes. Looking at TX, for example, Harris has 4.6 mil votes to Trump's 6.2 mil. The 78k Stein votes don't do anything, AND the Harris votes mean dick all in this state.

There is a lot of inherent voters suppression at play here! And then you run a terrible campaign that says your votes aren't needed? Of course people will not vote! It shouldn't have been this close, and it's entirely and completely on the shoulders of the Harris campaign. They talked down to minority groups who, turns out, STILL held their nose and voted Harris! They appealed to nonexistent, potential right-wing Harris voters at the purposeful expense of their voter base. They intentionally moved right, and actively belittled those to the left of them, and it looks like it'll bite them in the ass. What wasted effort.

Anyways, that's where my head is at. Watching a spectacular failure that seemingly failed on purpose. What a goddamn tragedy.

I will use this energy productively. I will recommit myself to my friends, family, and community, and we will live and thrive. I'm sure of it.

[bellaloona]

KPOP BIGGER TAG!

Tagged by @shineekeylover, thank you~

the title is no joke, this is gonna take me 3000 years to write bc of all the questions

edit: wow it really did take that long

also still trying to study for finals pray for me

1.) 5 favorite groups? - EXO, SNSD, Red Velvet, DAY6, LOONA

2.) Top 5 on your bias list? - Yixing, Hani, Sooyoung, Key, Kino (well the order changes a lot but the top 3 are solid)

3.) Ult Bias group and why you love them? - EXO were the first k-pop boy group that I got into, and even though many, many groups caught my interest after them, my love for EXO hasn’t gone down over time. I loved almost all of their songs from the first listen and they were the first group that I went out of the way to look up variety programs and get to know personality-wise. I don’t know I think it’s a combined thing of just having really cool music, funny and attractive members, and sentimental value that makes EXO stand out to me. :)

4.) Ult Bias and why you love them? - I’ve said this before but Yixing stood out to me since Call Me Baby (well he stood out to everyone back then bc the blond hair was a Look)! I love his little dimples and his really sweet personality. And his morals are so strong (I was completely done for when I watched the first season of Go FIghting ;-;) and don’t forget he’s so talented at literally everything. But the biggest thing is that he’s just a really caring guy, whether it’s toward the other members, his GF castmates, the 99 trainees from Idol Producer, he just cares for everyone so much and it’s very heartwarming. Also, my mom likes him and that’s pretty cool

5.) Favorite Kpop Meme - no one is ever going to top starbucks hyungwon and that’s a fact

6.) Favorite pic of your ult? (I dare you to only pick one) - I don’t HAVE any pics of yixing saved (bc I only save the finest of memes on my phone and he’s just not the memeiest guy) but there’s a blog called @happyzyx that’s just dedicated to pictures of him smiling and every new pic they post is the best pic!

7.) 5 Favorite Kpop MVs - BTS - Spring Day, BTOB - Movie, IU - 23, LOONA/Heejin - ViVid, Red Velvet - Red Flavor(as you can see I love pretty colors!)

8.) 10 Favorite Kpop songs? - ohhh boy this list is going to be different from the other one but I guess in no particular order: SNSD - I Got A Boy, 2NE1 - Gotta Be You, BTOB - Movie, Shine - Pentagon, Hyolyn feat. Changmo - Blue Moon, Say Wow - DAY6, LOONA/Kimlip & Jinsoul - Love Letter, Forever - EXO, Song Ji Eun - Don’t Look At Me Like That, Girls’ Day - Expectation

9.) Favorite Kpop crack video? - anything that valentae makes

10.) Favorite content creator within the fandom? - oooo ok so I just started following them recently and they’re loona/multifandom but @boratanical makes really cool graphics!

11.) What fandoms would you say you’re an active member of? - EXO, SNSD, LOONA, DAY6....NCT and Red Velvet on some days

12.) Take your top 3 biases- fmk - uhhhhh m - Hani, f - yixing, lovingly leave alone and not kill - sooyoung

13.) If you could be best friends with any idol, who would you choose?  - baekhyun i am free on thursday if you would like to hang out on thursday

14.) If you could date any idol, who? - tbh none of them, I just want to be everyone’s friend

15.) What’s one Kpop album you think everyone should have listened to? - Verse 2 - JJ Project, I cant believe you guys let that masterpiece flop

16.) Are you a soft or a hard stan? - I said I was 95% soft and I stand by that!

17.) An idol that makes you go into soft mode? - (g)-idle’s yuqi :(((( and by default, any idol that’s younger than me, they’re all my adopted sons and daughters

18.) An idol that makes you want to smash the empire state building with one single punch? - ong seongwoo and doyoung >:(

19.) Favorite vocalist? - AKMU’s Suhyun!!!! Her voice is so precious and soothing to listen to~

20.) Favorite Rapper? - Yoongi because not only is he an amazing rapper but I love his lyrics, also CLC’s Yeeun

21.) Favorite dancer? - NCT’s Ten

22.) Things you have in common with your ult? - we care about people a lot...and we’re Chinese.........we’re not that similar lol

23.) The most beautiful trait any idol can have? - physically, a nice smile. Personality-wise, I’d say openmindedness?

24.) Songs that will always make you jam along? - PENTAGON’S SHINE IS THAT SONG!!!!

25.) Your worst wrecker?  - see question 18

26.) Any kpop concerts you’ve been to? - SHINee World in LA last spring :’)

27.) Favorite choreo? - as of right now, UNB - Feeling, like that is a piece of art right there

28.) Favorite live performance? - that one BTS Go Go performance with all the hearts in it, that was cute 💕

29.) Favorite debut mv? - Seventeen - Adore U!!!!!

30.) Recommend a rookie group! - stan A.C.E you fools (also Stray Kids, Golden Child, UNI.T, UNB, Good Day, and of course, LOONA but I’m not even sure if they classify as rookies at this point)

31.) A kpop song you could listen to every day for the rest of your life? - CLC - Pepe

32.) Tag some cute mutuals you’d like to get to know better (and to do this challenge)! - hhhhh ok @yuniixoxo, @fatheartnut, @taenhoona, @sugassugarbaby98, @chunghart, & @therosiestpeach if you guys want to 💕

[bytheangell]

If you are still taking prompts, what would you think about writing something(s) based off of this, either/both, the Professor/TA, or the Writer/Editor?

Dedication (modern AU, Herongraystairs, check the link in the ask for full writer/editor prompt, a wonderful plot idea by @high-warlock-of-brooklyn!) (Read on AO3)

This is the first book Will and Tessa are collaborating on. They’ve written plenty of books individually and Jem’s worked with each of them in turn. But this is the first time they’ve co-authored, an experience that’s proving unique and challenging for all of them.

Being with Will and Tessa while they work on a new project is always a blessing and a curse. They’re two of the best writers of their generation and when they work on their own they’re brilliant, but when they work together - well, they’re also brilliant, but that brilliance is coupled with the occasional near-catastrophic clash of opinions and emotions.

Which is where Jem comes in.

Where Will and Tessa are so driven by passion and feelings, Jem finds it much easier to distance himself from their project (and from the writers themselves) enough to see the bigger picture and find solutions before the issues build up. Like many things about the three of them, it’s a perfect balance - they just work, better than anyone (including Will, Tessa, and Jem) ever imagined possible when they first got together.

It’d been a messy start, with Will and Jem already together but both developing serious feelings for Tessa after they met during a book event. The three of them quickly became very close. There were whispers of which of them would end up leaving, then confusion when the answer was none: instead of two of them growing closer and shutting the third out, they all seemed to adjust and adapt naturally around the three of them coexisting. They aren’t perfect, but they are perfect for each other, at least as far as Jem’s concerned.

Jem knows that what they have is special, which he reminds himself of over and over as Will and Tessa sit on opposite sides of the sofa, voices quickly elevating to nearly shouting over an issue with one of the characters Will is in charge of writing: one he’s chosen to give a pretty damning curse from a trickster faerie in this land of magic their current collaboration is set in.

“Tell him he needs to make the changes, Jem,” Tessa insists, the third time she’s repeated the demand now.

“Tell her that this plot adds depth, and without it, he’s boring,” Will counters. “Sometimes people - characters - need to be brutally honest about their own faults and issues. Sometimes people are disappointing.”

That’s how Jem can tell things are spiraling: when Will and Tessa - who have effectively communicated and collaborated on half a dozen bestsellers and who love each other more than Jem’s ever seen two people experience love - refuse to speak directly to one another. The moment they start talking around each other and at Jem instead is when he knows he has to step in and diffuse.

Usually, it’s a matter of taking a break, getting some fresh air, and coming back with clear minds. Jem normally isn’t one to pick sides, but this is different. He isn’t worried about the direction of the book… but after reading the latest draft from Will, which Will wrote while refusing to speak to either of them for a full week, he’s worried about Will. And he knows Tessa is, too.

“Perhaps a good starting point would be admitting this isn’t really about the character at all,” Jem says softly, gazing closely between Will and Tessa. Will looks a bit guilty and Tessa looks away entirely, which tells Jem that he’s right in guessing their concerns are also less plot-based.

“...what else would it be about?” Will asks defensively. But they can all sense how he’s been pushing them away lately, much like the cursed character undeserving of love he’s written in. It’s obvious that Tessa isn’t sure how to bring it up or else she would’ve already. Or maybe she already had and it hadn’t gone well.

“Tessa, would you mind making some tea?” Jem asks, waiting until she’s out of the room to turn back to Will.

“Will… you know this is about you. You barely talk to anyone for a week then come back with this character in such a self-deprecating mindset…”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s just a character,” Will says, but Jem can tell he’s entirely unconvinced of his own words.

“So if Tess came back having written Evangeline that way?” Jem counters, and there’s that look of subtle guilt, right back on Will’s face as he frowns and pieces together why Tessa’s so upset with him.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Will sighs.

“We’re not mad at you,” Jem’s quick to point out. “We’re just worried. It’s been a while since you tried to push us away like this, I just want to make sure you’re okay. We both do. Take it out in the writing if you want, but talk with us, too. Alright, my love?”

Jem’s tense as he waits. This has one of two options: Will relents and listens to him and they all have tea and talk this out, or Will storms out and they don’t see him again for another day or two.

Will stays. “I’m just letting the pressure get to me,” he admits. “I’m sure that’s all it is... But yeah. Okay. Tea.”

Tea, meaning ‘I’ll stay. I’ll talk. I’ll try.’ Jem leans over and places a barely-there kiss on Will’s lips before he relaxes back in his seat. Reaching out a hand that Will readily takes, Jem gives it a tight squeeze as they both wait for Tessa to return.

They talk.

In the end, the character arc stays. With a few redeeming modifications at Tessa and Jem’s entirely unbiased suggestion, of course.

---

A little over halfway through the first draft things seem to stall out. They have a progress deadline that week with the publisher and they’re cutting it close - mostly because Tessa keeps tossing everything she writes without giving Jem the chance to look it over. Recently she’s let her curiosity get the best of her, delving into research she should be allowing Jem to help with.

...and when he says ‘delving’, what he really means is stubbornly obsessing over, nitpicking bits of lore to streamline, and doing hours and hours of research for single-line references.

“When was the last time she slept? Like, an actual night of sleep?” Jem asks Will one day after a quick touch-base meeting that went… not terribly, but not particularly great, either.

“You need to get her out of here. No books. No wifi. I tried to kick her out but… well, you can imagine how well that went,” Will admits, and Jem winces in sympathy.

“The Time Out Cottage?” Jem asks, referring to a small cottage they own for unplugged getaways, where the wifi signal is nonexistent and a landline exists for emergency calls. “That means we’ll both be out of easy reach, and with that Friday deadline-”

“I can handle it,” Will cuts him off. “She’s been getting in her own way for days now, but she refuses to listen to me.”

A few minutes later Jem tentatively knocks on the door to the small study that does, in fact, look more like a makeshift research library. He nearly doesn’t see Tessa behind the small mountain of books on the floor, but he hears her pen tapping rapidly against the hardwood. No, not just rapidly - anxiously. He knows that action all too well.

“Tessa, what number is that?” he asks, the question needing no further explanation past his accusatory tone and pointed look at a coffee mug, which is next to a second coffee mug, which is next to a cup of black tea.

“Four? No, wait… what time is it?” she glances around and seems surprised by the height of the sun in the sky. “It’s afternoon already?”

Jem sighs. “It’s nearly four o’clock, Tessa, and your blood is probably about 90% caffeine. Come on, get your things, we’re taking a trip.”

Tessa looks immediately horrified. “No! I can’t, we can’t! The deadline, and I still have to streamline the fae lore between the two-”

“Will has it handled for 24 hours. That’s all we’re asking. 24 hours without research.” “Jem, you know-”

“-that you’ll be twice as productive once we’re back and you’re refreshed instead of running on fumes and fever dreams?” Jem cuts her off, his tone kind but insistent. He bends over and picks up a piece of paper. “Tessa, my love, this is nearly incoherent.”

Tessa reaches up to take the page from him and frowns. “I… okay, I can make out some of this, but I’m pretty sure that bit talks about aliens which isn’t any more reassuring. Will did say I was writing myself in circles, but I thought he was just, well, being Will, so... Yeah. Okay. Maybe I need to step back for a bit.” Tessa sighs. “The Time Out Cottage?”

“I already packed you a bag,” Jem confirms with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss the middle of her forehead before reaching out a hand to help her up off the floor.

When they return exactly 24 hours later, Tessa gets back to work and the lore practically falls into place between the two of them.

They meet the Friday deadline without a problem.

---

Jem spends his free time playing violin while Will and Tessa go through the first draft and begin to brainstorm fixes for plotholes, new minor characters to add to scenes that feel a bit lacking, and other small improvements to really round out the story and the world they’re weaving. They both claim to think clearer with his music in the background so he stays, even if he doesn’t feel particularly useful for this stage of the process until they have a single, coherent draft to hand over to him.

These are the moments Jem’s own insecurities and flaws float to the surface. The moments he watches Will and Tessa, so alike, so perfect for each other, connect on a level he isn’t privy to. He knows it’s a silly thought, that he and Will have their own things, as do he and Tessa. But sometimes he wonders if they truly need him around, or if he’s simply just become too much a part of the routine to actively get rid of.

He watches them sit next to each other with shoulders touching, hunched over a small screen, whispering back and forth. There’s a small smile on his face, one that’s wistful and tinged with hints of longing that, much to his dismay, they pick up on.

“I know that look,” Tessa says, catching Jem’s gaze and drawing Will’s attention before Jem can wipe the expression from his face. “Get over here. I think we’ve done enough work for today.”

Will is the first to move over, making room for Jem in the middle of them. After placing his violin back in its case Jem heads over to join them on the sofa, embracing the way Will and Tessa immediately crowd into his space once he’s settled, both placing a comforting kiss to his temples simultaneously before resting their heads on each of his shoulders and a placing a hand in each of his own.

They talk a bit, not about the book, but about anything and everything else, and fall asleep there, still entwined together.

---

It’s rare for any part of one of their books to be a surprise to Jem upon publication. He sees all the drafts, talks them through the acknowledgments and dedications, double-checks the reference pages against the chaotic piles of books and notes around their home.

So he’s immediately (and rightfully) suspicious the moment they hand him the first advanced copy and tell him to open it, watching his every move with eager expressions. Excited, but anxious.

‘A dedication to the one most dedicated to us:

This book would not be what it is without the kind heart, encouraging words, and infinite patience of James Carstairs. Neither would we. Jem, you are a light in our darkest hours, and we don’t know where we’d be without you.

We hope we’ll never have to find out.

Jem, our love, will you marry us?’

Jem reads, then re-reads the dedication. He closes the book, then opens it again, reading it a third time for good measure.

“Well?” Will asks impatiently, earning himself a nudge in the ribs from Tessa. Will huffs.

“I see you’re as dramatic as always,” Jem says quietly, instead of answering the question posed in the book. He knows his answer. He’s known for a while now what his answer would be, should the topic ever present itself, but he gets a bit of joy from making Will wait in anticipation just a short while longer.

“He wanted to be even more dramatic and show you at the event tomorrow,” Tessa admits. “But we decided against it. We thought you deserved the chance to say no without two hundred sets of eyes on you.”

Jem raises an eyebrow. “You think I’ll say no?”

“You haven’t said ‘yes’ yet,” Will points out, but he doesn’t sound nervous about it. Nor should he be.

“Yes,” Jem says, smiling brightly. “Of course it’s yes.”

[kinogane]

Essence of Yakuza Combat, Part 1: Counter

(incidental Yakuza spoilers below)

A lot has been said about the core of what brings people to the Yakuza games and plays a role in keeping them interested, which is the way the series juggles its earnest, straight-faced drama with its, let’s say,

eccentricities.

(I don’t bring these up casually, by the way. It would be almost certainly correct to attribute at least part of Yakuza’s growth outside of Japan to the karaoke minigame and someone at RGG Studio thinking that putting a chicken in charge of real estate would be very funny.)

I wrote a bit about that through one specific example here, and while that is core to the series’ identity, it’s just one aspect of the many, many hours you spend playing a Yakuza game. User aggregated times on HowLongToBeat peg the average length of a Yakuza playthrough somewhere in the area of 15 to 40 hours, and even if you’re not on the completionist beat and ballooning your hour count by spending a lot of time playing mahjong and other minigames, you’re going to spend a lot of time with the minute-to-minute gameplay of Yakuza, which is, by and large, getting into fights with chumps and smashing their heads into various surfaces.

Combat in Yakuza games isn’t exactly known for its mechanical depth. Certainly, if you’re willing to poke at its systems you can achieve mastery and do some wild stuff, but I’d wager most players aren’t particularly interested in getting better at the combat. More than likely, they’re content with getting just skilled and/or strong to get past major boss fights (which are genuine highlights of Yakuza combat) with possibly some help in healing and weapons. Yakuza 0 probably exemplifies this most, as the game gives you the option to upgrade both characters’ Legend styles into utter nonsense.

So in some ways, it’s not all that surprising that RGG Studio would make the most of an opportunity to switch combat systems with Yakuza: Like a Dragon. According to series creator Toshihiro Nagoshi, after they floated the idea of a turn-based RPG in a 2019 April Fools’ video, the positive public reception convinced them that changing mechanics could actually work. Which at the time was, and moreso in hindsight is, kinda obvious. Their action combat wasn’t exactly lighting the world on fire, especially with the recent switch to the much more slippery and less weighty Dragon Engine combat in 6 and Kiwami 2, and series staples like random encounters and equippable gear are already part and parcel with more traditional JRPGs like Dragon Quest. Hell, the near universal Yakuza experience of pausing to call a time out and chug Staminans because you’re getting your ass handed to you is more reminiscent of modern Fallout titles (which have turn-based roots) than it is of character action games like Devil May Cry. And to reiterate, it is literally possible to overlevel yourself in Yakuza 0.

There were skeptics, of course. For how relatively unremarkable the combat system is, there were (and still are) players who quite liked the action combat of Kiryu Saga Yakuza games and were a bit sad at the idea of seeing the system go, including myself. Perhaps part of it was just getting used to and developing an appreciation for a system that didn’t wholly merit it. (Though I still maintain that the multiple styles in 0 and Kiwami absolutely rule and also Finishing Hold/Bounding Throw is rad as hell.) But there are two aspects of the action combat in specific that are rather obviously head and shoulders above the rest.

One is the Tiger Drop.

Especially if your first exposure to the Tiger Drop was Kiwami, where it was overtuned as hell, the satisfaction of landing a Tiger Drop, completely stuffing an enemy’s attack, and taking out a decent chunk of their health bar has few equals in most Yakuza games. It’s such a tremendous reward for having quick reactions and mastering knowledge of enemy movesets that it’s warped how I approach combat with characters who don’t have access to the Tiger Drop itself. I absolutely beelined to get Akiyama’s kick counter in 4 and 5 and used it extensively in both, when it probably isn’t even close to being optimal, and when I learned/remembered that Kiryu has access to similar Heavy Attack counters through his Brawler and Legend styles in 0, I absolutely took them for a whirl right away.

The Brawler counter, as it turns out, works well against Sera.

(I probably would have felt similarly about Majima’s Legend style Demonfire counter in 0, for the record, and I did get a lot out of it, but that preceded my first Tiger Drop. So the timeline doesn’t quite fit.)

I did not expect the Tiger Drop, or counters in general, to make the full transition into the new Yakuza combat. While they’re not mechanically impossible, thanks to the Mario RPG-esque Action Commands, Like a Dragon instead opts to reward players for good timing with Perfect Guards that take less damage and don’t knock the character down, which I would argue is for the better.

It’s not difficult to imagine implementing a counter to supplement Perfect Guards as a defensive option, but doing so would fundamentally change the (counterintuitively?) offensive role counters play in Yakuza combat. Additionally, part of the difficulty of landing Tiger Drops comes from not knowing for sure what attack an enemy’s going to throw your way and having to react or make a good prediction. Most turn-based RPGs, including Like a Dragon, let you know a fair bit before an enemy attack properly starts what’s coming your way. Like a Dragon even gives you a bit of extra time, since the Dragon Engine implementation often requires enemies to hobble over to their target before they take a swing. There are plenty of well-telegraphed attacks in Yakuza games of the past, of course, but they’re the exception rather than the rule.

Put another way, it’s not reasonable to expect a player to Tiger Drop every single attack a boss throws at them in Kiryu Saga games. It’s far more reasonable (and for the entirety of the True Final Millennium Tower, basically expected) for the player to Perfect Guard (and hypothetically, counter) every single attack in Like a Dragon. This isn’t a mismatch so fundamental that it can’t be implemented in future games, but at the very least, its absence is unsurprising and not strongly felt.

Furthermore, counters thematically make more sense for Kiryu Saga protagonists than Ichiban. Superficially, counters don’t exactly vibe with Ichiban’s turn-based sense of fair fighting. Not much point in giving someone a chance to take a shot at you if you just punch them out of their turn. (And funnily enough, while my Dragon Quest knowledge is just about nonexistent, the small bit of research I’ve done indicates that counter skills weren’t accessible to Dragon Quest heroes until about 2006, a few years after Ichiban goes to jail.)

On a deeper level, though, counters are inherently more reactive than they are active. Even if you make a prediction that an enemy will attack a certain way, counters don’t work unless they actually do take that action of attacking. Prepping a Tiger Drop means not doing much else but taking up a fighting stance and waiting in bated breath until someone else does something first. This patience intrinsic to counters is temperamentally more suited for the calmer, more stoic Kiryu Saga protagonists (I recognize I’m talking in very broad strokes) than they are for the more hot-blooded, openly emotional Ichiban. Hell, if you really wanna stretch this idea, it’s worth noting that the younger, more impulsive Kiryu doesn’t have access to a powerful counter in 0 while the younger, more restrained Majima does (see the Demonfire counter mentioned above); contrast their playable appearances in Kiwami 2, where the older, more measured Kiryu can relearn his trusty Tiger Drop while the older, openly wilder Majima has no comparable counter.

So the Yakuza combat staple of Tiger Drop and counters didn’t make the transition into Like a Dragon. I don’t think anyone expected them to, and they certainly didn’t need to. All in all, not a big deal.

What about Heat Actions?

(continued)

[silenthillmutual]

26 mormor or giomis

tactile

it’s been a long ass time since i wrote for sherlock (like.. probably close to 7 years at this point, though it feels longer) but i wanted to try my hand at mormor

–

sometimes - most times, in fact - sebastian forgets who he is. forgets he is Sebastian; caught up in being Moran. untraceable, unkillable, nonexistent. so when it’s time for the day to end, time for him to be Sebastian again, he has trouble switching gears. 

and an even harder time registering the switch from Moriarty to Jim. Jim, always; never James, never unless it’s important, and so far there’s never been anything important enough to bring the proper names out. sebastian hopes there never is, because he hasn’t practiced. he doesn’t know how he’d manage with that big a change.

he won’t have to think of that for a long time now, he thinks. now it’s twilight, and what’s left of their daily activities can be done at an easy distance from their enemies, and an easy closeness between them. 

jim always comes to him like a cat. when he’s Jim, when he’s Moriarty, the touches are always practiced. they’re precision-perfect, an act he has rehearsed into smoothed-over nonchalance. it unnerves people, how Moriarty seems to move without calculation, acting on every whim and impulse that catches him. but sebastian knows that isn’t true, as much as Moran knows it.

someone has to be there to feed Moriarty his lines. but that’s not where they are tonight; tonight, jim isn’t quite as graceful as he puts on, dropping with a little too much force next to sebastian on the sofa. he nearly topples the laptop sebastian has up, blessedly not navigated to any site of work-interest. he’s got at least a third of his weight on sebastian’s shoulder, and when he yawns his arm nicks the back of sebastian’s head. it’s the little things, like this, that should irritate him. Sebastian’s never been a pet-owner, and here’s he’s acquired a human-sized cat. 

his stubble scratches against sebastian’s arm where jim rubs his face against sebastian’s skin, one of his less-subtler ways of asking for attention. sebastian even goes to run a hand through his hair, to scratch behind his ear, but jim catches the hand he moves before he has time to place it and presses the fingers full against his cheek. 

“sing me a song, seb,” he says. 

they’ve playlists for this mood. sarcastic ones, ironic ones, ones that house only several different covers of the same words. an entire playlist dedicated to songs with the word shiver, and one they’ll play when the world goes dark. “what would you like to hear?” 

“the bee gees one,” he says, his mouth muffled against sebastian’s palm. “no, no, the other one. in the kitchen when you thought i couldn’t hear you. you sang it so well…” 

a cat. right. that kind of observance, too, he guesses. 

sebastian hums to himself, trying to get ready for the performance. he rarely takes center stage the way jim does, and his voice might croak when it comes time for the curtains move. 

“i know your eyes in the morning sun,” he begins. “i feel you touch me in the pouring rain…” 

he doesn’t get accompaniment how he expects. instead, he meets his ovation in the form of jim’s lips against the lines in his hand.

[artificialqueens]

Girls Interrupted, Chapter 1: The Institution: 1, Katya: 0 (Vatya) 2/2 - Maeve

A/N: It’s Maeve again! I’m so freaking surprised and overjoyed at the positive reception Girls Interrupted has received. All of you who have such kind things have truly inspired me to keep going on this. I can now say I'm rewatching seasons in the name of research! As always, feedback is welcome. I write because I enjoy it but also so other people can enjoy it, too. So, really, I’d love to hear any feedback or suggestions.

P.S. I’m having so much fun writing the interactions between Katya and the other queens, but I think my favorite part of this chapter is either an especially cheeky Sharon Needles line or the gym teacher/coach that is very loosely based on a straight Santino Rice

This chapter picks up right where the last chapter left off: Violet and Katya’s ice breaker activity…

Fortunately, Violet realized that she would—at the very least—have to cooperate with the menial activity. “Violet,” she supplied cooly.

Katya tried and failed to stifle her laugh. The raven-haired girl looked at her challengingly.

“Tha-that’s a good choice. Very good. I love every color!” Katya stammered as she wrote down Violet’s response. She couldn’t be sure if her partner was filling out her own worksheet, but Katya couldn’t bring herself to care that much. She just wanted this over and done with. Each moment she spent next to the cheerleader made her feel more and more inadequate. Violet was judging her; she felt small enough on her own.

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” Katya continued.

This one Violet was quick to answer, “Literally anywhere but here.”

Her passive face told Katya she wasn’t going to get a better answer. I’ll just put down ‘Everywhere. She loves to travel.’, she resolved. “I think it would be really cool to go to Russia,” Katya offered.

Violet’s eyes left her phone screen. They searched the face of the blonde across the table, traveled down to Katya’s communism-inspired name card, and finally met her partner’s ocean blue eyes. “No?” Her face contorted in mock shock. “Let me guess,” she pandered, “If you could have lunch with any famous person dead or alive, you’d choose Putin.”

“Good guess,” Katya shook her head with amusement, “But it’s actually Maria Bamford.” It was obvious that Violet had no idea who Maria Bamford was. However, a quick glance at the clock told her there wasn’t enough time left in the class for her to go off on another tangent. “What about you, Violet?”

“Dita Von Teese. Next,” she urged.

“What are your favorite TV shows?” Katya continued eagerly, excited that Violet was finally being an active participant.

Violet’s response was almost instant, “Forensic Files and Sex and the City.” Everything about the brunette screamed confidence and certainty—something that came through in everything that she did. Katya wished it were that easy for her.

“I really like Game of Thrones, The Heart She Holler, and Storage Wars: Northern Treasures…..It’s the Canadian version,” Katya trailed off. There was an unspoken ‘and?’ in Violet’s expression, but she couldn’t produce a single reason for why that mattered. But it had mattered. “Anyway…What’s next?” Katya pushed through her embarrassment. “Something I’m good at? Sleeping, I’m good at sleeping. I guess I’m very bendy. Flexible. I can do theater, too…”

“Just put down cheer for me,” Violet ordered without looking up from her own worksheet. The blonde hesitated at the instruction, and Violet let out an impatient huff. “What?”

Katya was quick to apologize, “Sorry, it’s just that I thought you might say something about fashion.” She swallowed thickly. “I’m-I’ve seen you in the halls before, and you look good. Great. Your clothes. You clearly put a lot of effort into your appearance, and I thou—”

“Well, you thought wrong,” Violet spat. “You don’t know anything about me, so don’t pretend like you do.”

The blonde hurriedly scribbled down the word cheer under question five on her page and grabbed both of their papers. “Right. I’ll just go turn these in,” Katya fled the table without a thought. She had clearly angered Violet. Didn’t the popular kids like it when you stroked their egos? Katya wondered. She hadn’t meant to come off as judgemental. It was obvious that they weren’t on the same level, and hopefully Violet would understand that she hadn’t been trying to judge her. She only wanted to get to know the girl better, but she knew know how stupid she’d been to think that possible. No one like Violet would ever waste time on her. Sighing, she placed the two worksheets in a plastic turn-in bin labeled ‘4th’, and made her way back to her desk.

Katya had been disappointed that she had double A Lunch, but the forty minutes were the perfect break before pre-calculus. While it meant she could eat earlier, it also meant that she had no friends to eat with. Ginger and Bianca both had B Lunch. So Katya found herself on the steps of the stairs in the courtyard by the fine arts wing, eating a peanut butter and banana sandwich. There was beauty in the simple things, though, and Katya could appreciate the warmth of the sun and the slight breeze that late morning.

Mrs. Hugh’s room was stuffy. Katya’s funfetti extravaganza was clinging to her yet again, but she couldn’t adjust the fabric too much without disrupting those around her. She wasn’t willing to risk it. Unlike in all her other classes, the blonde always sat front and center in math class. All of the numbers made a mess in her head, and it was easier if she had fewer distractions. No one else felt the same way, though. So when Alaska tumbled in just before the tardy bell, Katya was forced into yet another less than ideal situation.The sunny cheerleader didn’t share that sentiment. Alaska flashed Katya a hundred watt smile and whispered a hello.

Katya didn’t get Alaska. Alaska wasn’t your stereotypical dumb blonde. She struggled in some areas but always kept up with the pack. So she was smarter than she looked? Big deal. What Katya failed to understand was why such a kind, sincere, and smart person would allow herself to be bullied by her peers. The cheer squad clearly didn’t think she had brain cells; Alaska was practically their punching bag from what she’d observed. So why hang around?

Miss Honard, you are an enigma, Katya assessed.

Katya’s continued curiosity over the duration of  Mrs. Hugh’s introductory speech gained her a very important piece of information: if she couldn’t get the lanky blonde out of her head, she was going to have to let her in. And Katya would not be friends with a cheerleader.

Katya praised Marx for the district employee who put Bianca Del Rio in her history class. She and Bianca were unlikely friends—a high school mascot and a theater kid didn’t really run in the same circles—but made an unstoppable duo. Coach A., their teacher seemed to get a kick out of them too.

Bianca was an unexpected constant in Katya’s life. The self-proclaimed bitch was Spartacus, the high school mascot, and the two would never have overlapped if not for their shared love/hate relationship with theater. She was a year younger than Katya but that didn’t stop her from providing Katya with the tough love she needed to keep her head screwed on. Keeping her head on straight was out of the question; Bianca did what she could.

The two girls schlepped over to the far side of the school where the gym was located. Katya, who had made the dumb decision to postpone getting her PE credit for as long, was not looking forward to an entire year of physical activity. Bianca, on the other hand, basically earned herself a double off campus by taking on the role of mascot. And yes, she definitely took pleasure in rubbing the fact in Katya’s face. Sucks to suck.

The other shit thing about a 7th period gym class was that Katya would be in uncomfortably close proximity to the cheerleaders. It felt wrong—almost like she was breaking a nonexistent restraining order. What sick bastard decided the plebs in “team sports” should be forced to observe the pretty girls in peak physical capacity while they drowned in their own sweat? Katya didn’t know the answer, and you certainly couldn’t hold her accountable if they were suddenly beheaded.

One locker and a stack of unisex uniforms later, Katya found herself entertaining the musings of Sharon Needles, resident goth girl.

“‘I look spooky, but I’m really nice,’” Sharon had said when they were assigned lockers next to each other. The witchy teen had a thing for reading people—not that an anxious Katya was hard to see through—and took one look at her and saw a kindred spirit. The funfetti dress and clown shoes didn’t scream normal, either. Katya had been uncharacteristically optimistic about befriending Sharon for all of ten minutes before everything went to shit. Phi Phi O’Hara, Sharon’s mortal enemy, also happened to be in the class.

“I’m surprised you took gym, Party City. Wouldn’t want you to melt in your own sweat.” Phi Phi snarked. The playground bully reclined herself against the row of lockers across from them and examined her nails.

Katya groaned inwardly. Sharon groaned outwardly.

“Fuck off, Phi Phi,” Sharon begged. “Don’t you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice? My ears are bleeding and not in a pleasant way.”

“Eat shit and die, Shar Bear,” Phi Phi called over her shoulder as she skipped off to bother some other poor shmucks.

Phi Phi the schoolyard bully reminded Katya of the villain poodle in one of those Open Season movies. Ironically, that poodle was also named Fifi, which was funny because the poodle was also a boy. Fifi the poodle was groomed like a pretty purse dog and had a little blue bow in his hair. Katya was inclined to take Phi Phi O’Hara—who was not incredibly dissimilar to a trophy pet—just as seriously.

“What crawled up her ass and died?” Katya scrunched up her face.

“If you find out, let me know,” Sharon deadpanned. “I need a smoke.” Katya watched in amusement as the locker room’s resident goth chick removed a pack of Marlboro’s and a lighter from her leather jacket. Sharon caught the blonde’s expression and raised her fist in response. “Fight the system,” she stoically decreed. Katya shrugged as if to say “what can you do?” and gestured for Sharon to walk back to the gym with her.

Their gym class had been banished to the wooden bleachers so the cheerleaders could practice for that Friday’s Back-To-School Pep Rally. The two girls tucked themselves into a far corner on the top row, and Sharon finally lit up.

Coach Rice, who had taken attendance at the beginning of class, had stepped in to assist Coach Calhoun with cheer practice.

Katya and Sharon were fortunate enough to have an unobstructed view of the girls shamelessly throwing themselves at the older man. The majority of the bimbettes were faces she expected: Detox, Roxy, Willam, Courtney, Adore, and Laganja. What she wasn’t expecting, however, was for one Violet Chachki to be the leader of the pack. Stratford’s mean queen never sought out attention, let alone fought for it. Miss Chachki was a one of a kind collectible, and the entire student body knew it. You either wanted her or wanted to be her.

Today, it seemed her flavor of choice was Santino Rice.

Katya udged Sharon with her elbow. “What do you make of that?” She consulted the other girl.

Sharon took a moment to complete her assessment. “I bet a girl that tightly wound is a real screamer in bed,” she answered smoothly. Katya had not been expecting any response of the sort and physically toppled over as she was seized by laughter. Katya’s wheezing drew the attention of those nearby, and Sharon had to hold her cigarette in her mouth so she could flip them off with both hands. They could mind their own fucking business.

Katya was still clinging onto Sharon’s thigh when her fit died down. “You bitch!” She shrieked.

“I’m not wrong,” Sharon defended, taking another long drag from her cigarette. “Ten bucks says she’s hitting on him right now.” In her best Valley Girl impression she crooned, “Oh, Coach Rice, can you help me with my form?”

Katya wasted no time in contributing to the impression. “Can we go to Red Lobster?” The blonde begged in her best Violet-esque bedroom voice.

The absurdity of the request and the thought of Violet, herself, saying those words caused Sharon to half cackle and half choke on her own smoke. Her throaty laugh bounced off of the walls, and this time, it wasn’t just a few pairs of eyes that turned to them.

Uh oh, Katya cringed, busted.

“Sharon Needles, put that shit out and march your ass on over to Assistant Principal Visage’s office!” Coach Rice demanded.

Katya facepalmed hard. What is wrong with you, you stupid whore? She groaned. It’s your fault she’s in deep shit, and she’s never going to speak to you again. The blonde was about to lose herself in an abyss of despair when Sharon’s voice filled the room again.

“Oh no!” Sharon drawled, “Whatever shall I do?” Katya had brought her head up to witness the spectacle and was met with Sharon’s shit-eating grin.

Katya raised her fist in solidarity, referencing Sharon’s anti-establishment words in the locker room. Her spooky new friend shot her a cheeky wink before saluting her corporate whistleblower and unhurriedly leaving the building.

Katya’s eyes left Sharon’s retreating form just in time to catch Violet glaring at her.

The blonde did her best not to worry. It wasn’t like Violet could have known they were talking about her, right?

The bell rang at 3:00, and Katya still hadn’t managed to put the captain of the cheer squad out of her mind. She spent her entire 8th period dodging Bianca’s questions and pleading for some all-knowing entity to tell her just where in life she had gone wrong. Definitely new year, same bullshit. Katya had attempted to begin her junior year with a more optimistic attitude, but after a first day for the history books, she was ready to call it quits.

You win, Stratford, you win. I am but a shell of a man. Woe is the poor soul who dare enter thee, Katya scowled.

The rest of Katya’s will to live vanished when she finally reached her trusty blue Beetle in the junior lot.

“Mother, I am want to commit death,” she muttered.

The cherry red convertible parked next to Katya’s car belonged to none other than Violet Chachki. The bright red exterior was blinding under the afternoon sun, and Katya had to squint to make out faces. A swarm of girls in uniform short skirts and halter tops formed a green and white sea around her only means of escape. Not wanting to engage with Violet for a third time that day, the blonde chose to turn on her heels and pop a squat on the curb.

It was going to be a long year.

[softhaos]

ONE (1) YEAR OF SOFTHAOS

fellas, as of today – jan 14th 2019 – softhaos has turned one year old!! honestly, i never expected to last this long?? over the past year, i’ve gone through many ups and downs, made close mutuals, received so much emotional support from all kinds of people on this site and overall, i’m so thankful that i pulled my shit together and joined the community on tumblr! 

i still remember clearly when i first started out with this blog and posted the neighbor aus and got SO much support for it?? like?? i never thought it’d come this far where i could touch readers’ hearts with my word vomits?? that’s just insane. and even if you don’t read my works yet still follow me: wow, i’m so grateful that you managed to cope with my bullshit – be it from my undying hatred towards pcy and kmg, me abusing the uwuwuwu or my personal thoughts.

in other words, this is my message directed to everyone: thank you for keeping up with my bullshit uwu

now on to the part where i thank specific people for making my existence on this site more bearable,, i’ve left a message for everyone i tagged (i would’ve tagged literally everyone but i’m a stressed student i am so sorry if i forgot you kjldl and i would feel bad if i didn’t leave a note to everyone i tagged) and the list is in alphabetical order! @ anons i also left notes from you at the very bottom.

@baekberrie 💌 even though we just talked once literally two days ago thanks to my clumsy ass sending you an accidental ask, i’m so glad i actually did. pola (okay i got this from your about page im sorry kljsdl) you’re an amazing, kind and talented soul with whom i could’ve talked hours about soft bbh if it weren’t for my tiredness. i’ve only read your junmyeon oneshot so far but trust me, i’ll get to that cuddling fic with baek real soon once i’ve got more time uwu you’re honestly a talented writer and i hope we get to talk more in the future!

@baekbuns 💌 i’ve known you for how many days already you anon thot and i really can’t believe that i was vv intimidated by you at first (not gonna lie, you still scream bde but that’s another story-) hope, despite you trying to steal pretty much everyone from anyone, it’s still very fun to fight talk with you and you’re also an excellent writer uwuwuwu i am still very attacked by the thought of bartender yixing one day I WILL SUE YOU ALONG WITH PCY

@baekwell--tart 💌 bella!!!! ngl i’m still very pissed at myself for not realizing you from your old url but i’m glad i found you again!! (did i find you again? idk anymore i suffer from short term memory but i hope i got my point across sdjlkj) you’re such a warmhearted person and i’m really grateful that i got to know you. however, you’re also a funny person and that also shows in your writing - istg one day i will probably have “perpetual boredom” tattooed on my forehead don’t ask why that description of sehun will NEVER fail to make me chuckle!! you deserve all the love and happiness in the world and so much more uwu

@boosoonhao 💌 i know i keep repeating myself when it comes to you aj, but i really have no idea what else to say. i wrote it in the letter, i expressed myself way too often in the tags whenever i reblog your works, yet here i am doing it again (and maybe even more exaggerated than usual, we’ll see): aj, you are one of the most talented writers i’ve ever known and one of the greatest blessings in the community. there, i said it and i mean it! you are one of the very few i know that doesn’t shy away from fantasy-ish aus and executes them brilliantly. the way you have with your words is just fascinating and i find myself sometimes jotting down what you wrote for future references? but writing skills aside, you are a beautiful and kind person and up to this day the key chain you sent me is still intact. aj, thank you for blessing me, blessing everyone with your talent and general existence. 

@byuncaa 💌 bianca you smol soft bean you have my heart right there and though we don’t know each other for so long, i hope we get to talk more in the future uwu you’re such a cute soul gaaah it really makes me wanna send you all the soft memes i possibly own anywaY i hope you just stay as bubbly and bright and adorable as you are uwu

@cafechenle 💌 hani, kaito kid, i don’t know whether you’re still alive on tumblr or not but idc i’m still writing this to you anyway. you’re one of the first people i’ve met on this site and gOD i remember it as clear as day where i was so close to blocking you within the first few minutes of knowing you. yes, i’m talking about the entire mansae chan era discourse. anyway, we don’t talk as much but i hope you’re doing fine my wee lil silver boys supremacist!!

@changbeanbag 💌 landon, we literally just met yesterday but as you can see, i don’t care and i’m writing you a wee lil note anyway. you, my dude, radiate uwu energy and ngl i may have squealed when i saw your tags in the ask i sent you teehee - i hope we get to talk more in the future (that is, if school hasn’t killed me until then-)

@changbiinn 💌 kirra, you beautiful, blue haired visual goddess who has everyone else (including jisung yES I WENT THAT FAR) looking like a mere smurf and found dead in a ditch! i didn’t think i’d get an instant dm from that one inkigayo shitpost but you went ahead and proved me wrong sjljlks timezones fuck me up all the time but nonetheless i hope we get to interact a lil more and gET ENOUGH SLEEP OR ELSE

@cheolsjigyu 💌 MISS VAN NO I DID NOT FORGET YOU HEAR ME OUT. first of all, how could i forget you when you provided me all the great twt aus and the wild chats we had back in?? sometime early last year i guess. it’s been a very long time since we talked and i’m sorry i couldn’t reach out to you any time sooner due to school and the usual stuff (also, uh, i’m not the biggest friend of tumblr dms and barely check any messages there so there’s that too) believe it or not i still wheeze whenever i think of your fic swing baby because goddamnit that jyp song was one repeat for a good week. anyway, i hope you’ve been doing well and are not at the brink of near death like me uwu

@cherryxiu 💌 gran, frank, satan incarnate, whatever else i call you. you may fuck me up with the pcy i’ve never asked for but i hope you know you have a soft spot in my heart (i’ll never say that out loud again tho so see it as a one of a time thing). you’re my fav minseok stan and while i wouldn't necessarily jump off a cliff for you, i’d jump with you uwu anyway, aggressively refrain from sending me more pcy content i’m just trying to live an easy life here. but knowing you, you’ll definitely pretend as if that last part was never written so why do i even bother-

@chillihansol 💌 hanni my child!!! i hope you’re doing fine, aren’t as stressed anymore and have received the love you deserve and more!!! i still remember when i was highkey intimidated by you so i went on anon but then somehow you were startled by my lil threat and then i became your mom anon? funny that has changed over the time skldj hanni, i don’t regret ever going on anon for you and you’re an amazingly talented writer. i already said it once but i’ll say it again: guns n roses was the first svt fic i read on tumblr and just thank you for creating that piece uwu

@choco-seventeen 💌 miss choco, i almost tumbled down the nonexistent stairs in my apartment when i saw you ??? sliding into my dms ??? and then reading my word vomits ??? and then you followed me ??? and everything that followed after ??? i don’t know what in the world i did to have you notice me and up to today it remains a mystery to me ngl. we love a talented, kindhearted, fantastic, stunning, visual writing queen who is ofc the right person to love thanks to the avatar discourse she started!!! choco, keep on enlightening everyone’s life with your mere existence, the tags you put in your reblogs that make me smile and of course, wonderful stories <33

@custardheart 💌 taylor, i don’t think we have ever talked (unless you approached me on anon maybe then maybe yes??) but i just wanted to thank you for blessing my notifications. you’ve been supporting me / on my notifs for quite a long time - may i say you’re like one of the first followers i had when i first started out? THAT’S how long you’ve been here already and i can’t thank you enough <333 (please don’t ask me why i know that but goddamn every time i see that jeonghan profile picture i already know it’s you djklj)

@dinoshaur 💌 sha! lee! i know we barely talk to each other but i just wanted to use this opportunity to thank you for making some of my days with your astounding fics!! one of my favorite works from you will always be “flower crown prince” because you have NO idea how much i struggle with finding seungkwan fics dkkjljlk i’m sorry i didn’t submit anything for the lfw challenge i really tried to make it but you know, life problems happened whoops. i wish you all the happiness and inspiration and love from chan himself you gifted angel uwu

@forevershua 💌 dear fossil mother ryan, i can’t believe i internally pronounced your name wrongly for pretty much half a year knowing you. please forgive me. okay, but all seriousness aside, you’re one of the closest people from this site!! i really love you so so much though i can’t guarantee that i love you as much as you love jeonghan more than shua; i still shed tears whenever i pull out your two postcards - especially the minghao one; i think i suffered from mild heart palpitations when i got it in the mail (and still do). i hope we get to meet this year and possibly clown rat together and just stay the somewhat sane person left in the gc <33 p.s HOW DO YOU FUNCTION WITHOUT A FRIDGE I STILL CANT BELIEVE THAT

@gamerwoo 💌 rocket, you’re always active when it’s the ungodly hour where i live and it has happened more often that i stay awake because of you. not only do i have loads of stuff i can queue from you (teehee) you recently started posting stories again and the ones you hammered out lately just??? do things to me??? for real though do you have sadistic tendencies or somethin because you posted TWO (2) nsfw stories that I indulged at 2 AM IN THE MORNING. aside from that minghao and junmyeon stuff, uuuh, i finally got around to finish your ghoul au which i completely adore!! i’m looking forward to your upcoming works uwu and hope you get all the positivity and good vibes only uwu (p.s i have to confess: my dumb ass seriously thought the “woo” in your url referred to jungwoo and for some good weeks i thought you ult jungwoo rIP ME)

@hearttoshu 💌 jess, i don’t know what in the world i did to have you notice me because i’m gonna be honest here, i was scared of you skaljdlkjslkj please i don’t even know why, you seemed very intimidating but i was proven wrong in an instant!! you are one super soft bean with hq gifs and a love for jun and shua that reaches up to infinity and beyond!! your tags always get the best out of me and i’m really grateful for having you in my life uwuwuwuwu 

 @jejublr 💌 ew rat, you’re finally adulting. jokes aside, you were the first victim to fall under my disastrous typo errors and may i say that i’m just simply ICONIC for forever slapping that legendary nickname on you uwu nat who?? we only know RAT. you’re the one person i can always run to when more serious issues are bugging me since i guess you can relate the most to my personal dilemmas and i just wanted to thank you for being there for me <33 that, and for keeping gran somewhat at bay. i hope we get to meet up this summer where i’ll feed you with lots of chocolate while teasing ryan about her biasing jeonghan LMAO and just like most people from the gc, you’re one of the first close mutuals i’ve made. in a way, you could say you’ve been with me here since day 1 (almost) xx

@jin-hua 💌 mayo / mango / mayo that tastes like mangoes / idk i bet i have misspelled your names approximately 993828 times in 937987 different variations but guess what? i still love u to death uwu i love me a fitness queen, a visual goddess not even god himself could ever and i’m so so glad that you exist in my life <333 i know i promised you a crackhead message but when i think about it there’s not really a lot to say that’s out of place when it comes to you?? you’re an angel uwuwu the light of my life frank could NEVER

@justsomekpopstuff 💌 jj it is i, your #1 supporter!! since you’re also part of the nug club gc from the beginning on, you have an extra special place in my heart <3 jj, i love how supportive you are and i don’t think you realize that i cherish you to the moon and back and that times 903809. i love how you get so fired up about your hockey team and like to gush and suffer from the wrath of Joshua hong and i hope you’ll stay eternally happy uwu that, and dRINK LESS COFFEE ISTG

@lxveille 💌 veille we’ve never interacted a lot but i just wanted to let you know that i admire you a LOT. i haven’t got around to read more of your works lately, but i do have a favorite fic that i still clearly remember. okay, that’s a lie, i have several that left a strong memory. but let’s say, if i had to reduce it to one fic, it’d be the 100wtsily dystopian au with jihoon and 66 & 70! you’re one of the very few writers who hit the dystopian genre spot on and you truly are an inspiration. seriously, thank you a lot veile xx

@middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich 💌 LOOK, i didn’t even know you changed blogs or something and i’m so eternally sorry that it took me ages to figure that out! (RIP me) you’re one of the first followers i had if i recall correctly (i’m pretty positive of that) and i just wanted to thank you for sticking with me so long uwuwuuwwu i wish you all the happiness bb <3

@multi-yeol 💌 haaaa we’ve only known each other since a day or something but i’m really glad we did!!!! honestly, that Loona song sorter is harder than any of the german exams i had and though we don’t know each other for so long, i hope we’ll talk more in the future bub!!!

@oatmealupdates 💌 lynna, you too are one of the first followers on my blog i’m wheEZING you’ve been here for so long sdlkjlkj thank you for your support and your comments under the fics always make my day i swear!! i’ve also noticed that you haven’t been that active as you used to be (maybe it’s just me idk sometimes my dash is kinda wacky) but all in all i hope you’re doing good!! if you ever need to talk to someone, you can always hmu <33

@queerjunhui 💌 vane, ngl, you really scared me at first. i was really intimidated by your for reasons i can’t even explain and i always thought you were out of my league sdkljlk i think we started talking since the cyzj thing and you’re one of the funniest and nicest people i’ve met so far on tumblr, seriously! your content - be it from your shitposts to mindless thoughts like the entire indirects to j*** * yES I STILL RECALL THEM - you always manage to make my day brighter whenever i see you on my dash. i wish you all the happiness and hope you’re doing good uwu

@seungcheolsbodyharness 💌 katey, sis i still think about that criminal seokmin and the entire au we made up - from FBI agent cheol to incompetent intern vernon and all that jazz. besides the fact that your url is a pure 10/10 as well as your other URLs, you’re such a nice person and i really enjoy your presence - be it in the form of reblogs of any kind of thing to the comments you occasionally leave and don’t get me started on the aSKS; katey, i’m so glad to have met you on this site!!! uwu

@softwonwoo 💌 jian darling!! honestly, i have no idea how you even know of my existence. just like pretty much everyone else i’ve tagged here you kinda had that intimidating aura?? but then the more i talked to you somehow, the more i was proven wrong and you’re such a sweet pea i can’t- also, i’m glad that i found someone who can agree with me when it comes to chungha dsakjlskj pls stay healthy, stay happy jian!!

@swyllh 💌 sara, i don’t think we have ever had a proper conversation, but i just wanted to give you my appreciation. you are one of the most underrated writers within the community yet you always give your best when it comes to your writing and honestly, i really admire you. i haven’t found the time to read your interactive fic yet (i keep pushing that back i am so sorry but i’ll get to that one day) and one of the fics that i absolutely adore is that one end of the world fic with chan, as well as the vernon collab with sha!! i really hope you’ll get the recognition and love you deserve you gifted writer !!

@tonicandjins 💌 faye my snowflake, i haven’t seen you around lately but if you read this, i hope everything’s alright from your side! i’m quite sure i’ve already mentioned this to you but i’ll say it again. i will NEVER shut up about one and two small petals and will NEVER recover from it. another banger is that wonwoo fic with the printer- ugh, you’re such a talented, beautiful person and i truly wish you all the best. remember, don’t stress yourself and relax once in a while uwu

@yeolsmiling 💌 angie hi!! i legit only sent you one (1) ask so i really don’t have much to say so far unless i wanna repeat myself lMAO one day, i aspire to purely emit soft energy for yeol but i doubt that day will ever come. i hope we get to talk more in the future you soft bear <33

honeybunch anon 💌 honeybunch, i hope you’re doing well! i still remember that i called you that when you slipped into my asks and gushed about that one mingyu fic up to this day i’m still flattered and eternally grateful that you’re still here uwu thank you for your support and making my day <33

fromis anon 💌 idk if you’ll ever read this but i miss you uwu i hope you’re doing fine and just a quick update from my side: i still haven’t found a bias yet uGH 

sugarpie / tulip anon 💌 you seem like such a cool person i’m really glad you stopped by in my inbox thank you for hitting me up uwu since i have no clue who you are and since i’m a dumbass, i’m can only rely on you messaging me jslkdj

none of the letters are proofread i am so sorry

[grumpyhedgehogs]

Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One Before

Summary: Henry begins leaving messages in golden ink. Bendy is intrigued.

Notes:  Some violence alluded to, but only the canon typical variety. I hope this doesn't seem rushed but I had to get the idea out of my head. I may turn this into a series with all of the cast, but for now this is a one shot about Bendy and Henry being grandpa and grandson of the year. Enjoy!

The first message Bendy sees is so distracting it ends up being a self-fulfilling prophesy.

The cycle has begun anew with the same old shtick; he waits in the ink for Henry to get near enough for Bendy to smell him, to hear his labored breathing and the vibrations of his heavy footsteps. At the end of the hall, he will emerge from the darkness and give chase, forcing Henry deeper into this unending maze to relive his nightmare over again.

Bendy can’t say he hasn’t wondered why they all still go about this the same way every time, but it’s not like he can ask anybody around here. Sometimes he thinks he may be the only one here who remembers. It makes his ink boil in hot rage; this was supposed to be Henry’s hell, not his.

So he waits and waits and finally Henry’s footsteps sound outside his room. He can sense Henry pausing, probably reading the messages Sammy Lawrence has scrawled on the same walls for the millionth time. But Henry seems to be taking longer than usual; for an old man, he usually moves faster than this. There are no further footsteps down Bendy’s corridor.

Oh, this is just great. What is he supposed to do now? It’s not like he can just go tap Henry on the shoulder and tell him to hurry up.

Minutes pass. Bendy burbles his ink in irritation, fuming as the silence stretches. Finally, light as a feather, Henry taps on the boards of his doorway.

Let’s get this show on the road, Bendy thinks for the thousandth time, former maliciousness faded now into something like resignation. He erupts violently into being, large enough to block out the lamps in his room and screams. Whether it’s from the pain that manifesting so suddenly creates, or rage at Stein for leaving, or at Drew for keeping him here, Bendy has long since stopped asking himself.  He throws himself forward, barely catching the back of Henry’s shirt with the razor tips of his claws. Henry rounds the corner and disappears from sight, but Bendy can hear his wheezing still. He’s slow in his old age.

Bendy lurches around the corner too, already resigned to slamming his head into the same damned pipe he always forgets until the last minute-

Over one of the old cutouts of himself shining in bright gold letters is the message “YOU MAY WANT TO DUCK NEXT TIME OLD PAL.”

Bendy does not duck. When he falls, one of his horns gets stuck in the floorboards. Up ahead, he can hear Henry’s yelp as the floor gives way.

The words twinkle at him from the wall.

Huh.

~

The next message is in smaller letters but is no less bright in the dark old studio. It is also not meant for Bendy this time.

It’s for Sammy.

Outside the old music room sits an unopened can of ink. Bendy has no clue how Henry would have been able to get his hands on uncorrupted ink, but then again he wasn’t called the Original Creator for nothing. Beside the can is a tiny pyramid of bacon soup.

The gold letters run over the door to the music room and partially onto the wall beside it; Henry has large, uneven handwriting, especially in whatever paint he is using.

“YOU ALWAYS USED TO FORGET TO EAT WHEN YOU GOT CREATIVE, SAM-THE-MAN.”

Bendy stops. Bendy stares.

Bendy is stumped.

(Bendy isn’t even sure if Sammy Lawrence can eat at this point, to be honest.)

The old rage Joey Drew had instilled in Bendy has long since faded into a resigned state of irritation; he can’t always be raring to tear an old man apart. But this new fashion of communication, this strange willingness to show kindness to two different monsters intent on killing him- Henry’s really throwing him for a loop, here.

Hesitantly, Bendy reaches out and lays his claws on the door, over the ‘o’ in ‘you.’ Like an electrical shock, warmth surges up his limb. He pulls back quickly, growling and waiting for the pain to hit- before he left Joey had shocked him quite a few times to make Bendy compliant.

But the pain never comes. The warmth tingles back down to the tips of his claws, slipping away after a few moments and leaving a sense of- of-

There’s a feeling of comfort, of familiarity- it is, Bendy thinks with a dawning sense of realization, what Henry himself was feeling, probably directed at Sammy Lawrence, when he wrote this.

Bendy lays his claws back on the words. The warmth starts right back up again (Henry could always be trusted to build something and make it work if he were given the right materials) and this time Bendy doesn’t drop his arm until the comfort has lodged firmly in his chest.

~

There’s another message and more bacon soup waiting in the hallway Bendy knows Boris frequents in search of food. Most likely, Henry passed by this hallway and recognized it as one that he would transverse later with the wolf in tow and so left himself some supplies.

The bacon soup is arranged in a smiley face.

“DON’T KNOW WHAT I WOULD DO WITHOUT YOU, BORIS.”

The same warmth crawls into Bendy by touching the letters, but now the sense of comfort is replaced with friendship, and an almost fatherly affection. It sets off a low, burning want in Bendy, but for the life of him the demon can’t understand why.

~

Bendy can admit, at least to himself, that he’s getting a little desperate for answers at this point. The messages have begun popping up with alarming frequency and Henry seems to have become fantastic at hide-and-seek in the last few days. He’s seen hide nor hair nor ridiculous sweater vest of the grandfatherly old man.

But the scrawls on the walls have still been coming and at an alarming rate. Henry seems to know that the Bendy statues are important to Bendy himself, because most of the gold writing that is directed to the demon he finds is centered in their hallways and alcoves. It’s all pretty innocent stuff overall; reminders to rest, questions about if Bendy is in pain from his run in with the Projectionist- how does he know, Henry hasn’t even met the remains of Norman Polk yet-, thanks for said run in and saving Henry from the Projectionist, a suggestion to take it easy on Alice every once in a while.

But as soothing as these light-hearted messages should be, they rankle at Bendy’s skin. Ink. Whatever.

Henry should not be able to write these. He shouldn’t remember the last cycles, and he certainly shouldn’t be being kind to a monster that’s actively trying to kill him. Joey Drew is rolling over in whatever godforsaken grave they finally buried him in.

The last message prompts a quick visit to Alice; it’s entirely possible that Henry is with her and Boris at this point, although Bendy has to admit that he’s been keeping less of a close eye on his old Creator’s progress than usual.

At first, he only sees sparse messages here and there; a reminder or two for Henry himself to watch out for the rickety stairs and to favor his left ankle when the elevator drops. On the sign for the Heavenly Toys Room Henry has had an entire argument with himself about whether or not Alice would appreciate Henry leaving her one of her dolls.

Then, when he checks the room with all the dissected toons (it makes Bendy want to retch every time he sees it all, the stink of old ink and the sight of so much corruption roils his nonexistent gut and never fails to pull a whine out from between his teeth), Bendy is startled.

It seems like Henry had a full-on break down in this room. There is golden ink everywhere.

Beside the first dead Boris the Wolf is “SORRY.” The word is sloppily painted, strokes out of line and trailing off as if Henry didn’t have the strength or will to lift his hands away cleanly. Around the pedestal on the floor are smaller scrawls. Bendy has to lean closer to read them through the ink on his face.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE JOEY?”

“I’M SO SORRY I NEVER WANTED-“

“ALICE HOW COULD YOU?”

“I NEVER THOUGHT-“

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER JOEY?”

“PLEASE FORGIVE ME BORIS.”

“THEY WERE ALIVE.”

And the last one, the only one that wrenches at whatever heart Bendy can claim to have, the smallest letters of all, “I NEVER SHOULD HAVE LEFT.”

For the first time Bendy is scared to touch the letters. He knows without knowing how that this is the edge of some cliff- if he does this now, he will have an intimate knowledge of his Creator that he may come to regret.

But something makes him do it- the way the letters are jagged and trail off, the way Henry couldn’t finish his apologies, or maybe, just maybe, it’s the vague memory Bendy has of sharp blue eyes and an excited smile looking down at him when he was ink on paper all those years ago.

The words here don’t elect a comforting warmth- they are the chill of winter, scaldingly cold and sharp like ice in the veins. Bendy grins and bears it.

Sluggishly, the cold inches its way up his arm like slow moving sludge; it collects like sewage in his gut and Bendy has the urge to vomit without the usefulness of a stomach to back it up. There is fear in this cold- these words are made not of friendship or paternal warmth but of regret and fear and so much sorrow-

Bendy doesn’t come poking around Alice’s floor again.

~

When he gets to the Projectionist’s floor Henry has some serious thoughts on his interior design. If Bendy could laugh he would- he’s never seen so much swearing at ink before, and in such a cheerful, twinkling color. Henry seems especially upset that his favorite sweater is ruined once again, but Bendy can’t sympathize; he may be just a demon summoned to wreak havoc, but even he knows that puce, mint green and mauve do not a good combination make.

~

“DO YOU EVER GET COLD IN ALL THAT INK?”

The message is scrawled at the base of another statue. Bendy has taken to circling the floor he knows Henry has just vacated for any new ink on the walls- although he doesn’t talk to Bendy as often as he talks to himself, Henry has the habit of keeping up a one-sided conversation with every cutout and statue that he meets. Bendy has been asked several times to relay his thoughts on the taste, consistency and make-up of bacon soup.

“LINDA WOULD HAVE A FIELD DAY WITH ALL THE STAINS I’M GETTING ON MY SWEATER,” Henry continues. “BUT IT’S SO CHILLY IN HERE- I DON’T SEE HOW YOU DO IT WITHOUT A CENTRAL HEATER SOMEPLACE. IF YOU KEEP GETTING WET IN THAT INK WITHOUT DRYING OFF YOU’LL CATCH YOUR DEATH OF COLD, YOU KNOW.”

Bendy cannot, in fact, get cold. But it’s nice to see that someone cares to ask. He’s never had that before.

These words feel soft. Linda’s name in particular elects the feeling of being at home, along with a faint, well-known feeling of grief.

But mostly, Bendy feels that same familial warmth he found in Boris’s messages. It’s really grating on his nerves that he can’t seem to find the writer anywhere these days.

~

“JOEY WAS ALWAYS THE VISIONARY,” Henry tells him. The message is scrawled on the desk next to Drew’s own recorder. He must have just listened to what the man had to say to Susie- before she mysteriously disappeared, that is. “BUT I WAS THE DREAMER. HOW ELSE COULD I HAVE THOUGHT YOU UP?”

The letters aren’t exactly warm but they don’t have the same sense of lingering fear that Alice’s rooms did. Bendy can sense the same regret, but there’s a kind of bittersweet tang here. He thinks it may be nostalgia.

Bendy is remembering more and more now- there was a time before he was a monster, before all the horror and pain and rage clouded his mind and made his ink run into his eyes. He remembers the faint feeling of happiness, of hands tracing lines and drawing a smile on his face. He remembers feeling safe in hands that are now gnarled and wrinkled and shake with fear when their owner sees what their creation has become.

~

The cycle is ending.

Bendy can feel it, and Henry definitely knows it, if his messages are any indication. They’ve been getting more and more infrequent ever since Allison and Tom found the Creator.

(The old anger flares in him at that- how could Stein just, just- throw him aside that easily? Then again, Allison and Tom never tried to kill him.)

“DO YOU THINK ANY OF THIS WILL CHANGE?” Henry asks an old cutout, and Bendy has no answer.

Henry is getting ever closer to the end, and there’s nothing Bendy can do to stop him. Not without hurting the old man, anyway.

Bendy isn’t so sure he can now.

He misses Henry on purpose this time when he rushes at him in the hallway and the arena. His demon form isn’t as large, the ink can’t seem to form together correctly to give him the same old height and bulk. His claws too are duller, shorter. His heart isn’t in it anymore.

Henry seems off his game too- Bendy can see him stumble and fall multiple times. He fumbles the reel that will end it all. He slumps over on the steps to the throne in the last room. But Stein makes it there in the end.

Bendy can’t seem to muster up any of the old hatred for him when he does.

There is golden ink on the fingers that stretch out to meet Bendy’s when the End Reel starts playing.

~

Bendy doesn’t scream this time- he’s too tired. As his ink melts and sloughs away, as his limbs disintegrate before his very eyes, his True Creator holds him. Henry’s voice is low and gravelly with old age.

“I never meant to cause you so much pain, old friend,” he murmurs to the demon in his arms. Bendy feels like crying. “I wish I could have stopped all this-“

Bendy doesn’t hear the rest as he returns to the ink.

~

The cycle has begun anew with the same old shtick; he waits in the ink for Henry to get near enough for Bendy to smell him, to hear his labored breathing and the vibrations of his heavy footsteps. At the end of the hall, he will emerge from the darkness and give chase, forcing Henry deeper into this unending maze to relive his nightmare over again.

Joey Drew forced them all to play their parts; Bendy and Henry are the stars of this stupid show.

Bendy is not going to be beaten down again.

He bursts forth from the ink too early- he can feel the reality around him shake at the deviation, the walls threatening to cave in, the lights flickering. Whatever magic Joey Drew used to trap Henry here doesn’t like the change in script.

Bendy couldn’t care less.

The boards have never seemed to break away more easily than now- his claws sink through them like a hot knife through butter.

The hallway outside looks strangely empty without Henry standing there. The gold of his first message shines a little less now, faded with the new cycle. Bendy ducks the pipe.

It doesn’t take long to find Henry- Bendy seems to know the way without even thinking about it. It’s only when he rounds the corner that he puts it together. Of course Henry would stop by his artist’s desk. He always was a sentimental old fool.

There’s no way Henry couldn’t have heard Bendy coming with all the noise he’s made- subtle, Bendy is willing to admit he is not. He’s a demon not a ballet dancer.

Henry is running his hand over his snowy beard when Bendy slows to a halt behind his chair. There an old drawing of his cartoon self on the desk. Bendy wonders how long it’s been there.

Henry doesn’t turn to look at him when he speaks.

“I first drew you when I was seven years old, you know,” he starts conversationally. His hands shake with arthritis when he strokes the old paper. “Of course, you were just a mess of scribbles then, but you were the first character I ever came up with on my own. I don’t know if you remember that time, or even if you remember any time when you were on paper, but I do.”

Bendy curls his claws carefully over the back of Stein’s chair and listens. Some of his ink drips onto Henry’s sweater- but it really is a terrible sweater anyway.

“I kept drawing all my life and I really had quite a range- stop me if I seem like I’m bragging, now- but I always came back to you. Joey was one of the first people I ever showed you to. I thought he’d be the most appreciative of a mischievous little devil character.” Henry laughs at that and the sound is just like the warmth of his words. Bendy can’t help but lean in a little, trying to leech all that friendfamilykindness away and keep it locked up, safe somewhere in his chest.

“You and he are ever so similar- or you were, before Joey changed.” Henry shakes his head and clears his throat loudly. He seems to have a bit of trouble getting the next words out. He hasn’t looked up from his old drawing. “I- he loved adventure and he was so ambitious- I’m sure I couldn’t have gotten anywhere without him. But he became- possessive and jealous, I suppose.”

One of Henry’s hands lifts then and slowly, softly, his fingers lay across Bendy’s claws next to Henry’s shoulder. Bendy whines low in his throat but stays still.

“He wanted more, always more. And I- didn’t. I didn’t need more. I had him and I had you and that was enough for me.”

Bendy knows Joey Drew like he knows himself; they have the same black, misshapen heart in their chests. That doesn’t make listening to the next words any easier.

“But I guess,” Henry sounds like he’s forcing the words out passed a lump in his throat, “that you and I weren’t enough for my old pal Joey.”

Bendy whines louder now, and he lowers his head, bumping his horns- gently, ever so gently- against Henry’s scalp. It earns him a low chuckle- it’s distinctly wet and shaky, but Bendy will take it.

“I never knew what Joey was doing to you, you know; I didn’t hear from anybody after I left. It was like I never met any of them. But you have to know, buddy, I never thought that Joey would- that he could ever-“

Bendy knows what it means when water leaks out of a human’s eyes; he’s seen it dozens of times, when any wayward urban explorer or old employee made the mistake of crossing his path. He knows that salt water from the eyes means fear and pain but he’s never seen it mean sorrow until now.

Henry sobs and it’s so quiet, it’s almost worse because it’s quiet, like he’s holding it all in and this just slipped out and Bendy hates it. He’s used to loud protests and screams and anger but Henry is quiet and still and in pain.

Bendy growls loudly and Henry doesn’t even flinch; which is good, Bendy supposes, because he’s not mad at Henry. It’s Joey Drew he hates, Joey Drew who took something good from Henry Stein and twisted it to fit the mold Joey wanted it to. Joey took Bendy from Henry and then to top it all off he took Henry from Bendy.

This is his Creator. This is his.

Bendy curls over Henry in his chair. His arms are longer than Henry’s torso is wide and he clutches at his Creator around the shoulders. He holds on tightly, everlasting grin pressed into Henry’s neck. He’s careful of his claws all the same- Henry has been caused enough pain in Joey Drew Studios.

Henry’s fingers are soft when they light on one of Bendy’s horns.

For a moment they sit there, Henry shaking silently and Bendy whining into his awful checkered sweater vest. But then- then Bendy sees something bright in the corner of his vision. Something that looks distinctly gold.

The ink from Henry’s hands- he must have been painting new messages already and where in this fresh hell did he even get that shiny ink- had slid down Bendy’s horn into the black ink over his face. Bendy lifts his face away from Henry’s shoulder and shakes his head not unlike a wet dog.  But the gold doesn’t get flung away- instead, it spreads even more.

He whines again, this time in distress for himself and Henry reaches out to him, facing Bendy for the first time. His eyes seem younger than the rest of him.

“Hold on, buddy, let me-“

But Bendy doesn’t let his Creator do anything. The gold it- it burns. Henry is burning him!

It’s not his fault, a voice inside explains reasonably, he wouldn’t know. It’s never hurt before.

Bendy doesn’t care.

He flails away, that warmth from all those times before now too much, too much and he’s melting away, maybe this was all an elaborate trick by Stein maybe he and Drew are just the same-

They aren’t. That same voice is stronger now and Bendy realizes with a jolt that it sounds like him- like the old him, on those cartoon reels. Henry Stein and Joey Drew aren’t the same at all. Henry loves you.

That voice doesn’t stop the melting feeling but it does lessen it somehow. It’s not as painful to watch his limbs shorten and his claws slip away to reveal- white gloves?

The gold ink is everywhere now, slipping in streams down to his feet (no longer misshapen limbs but now rounded off and solid) up his chest (his bowtie is straight for the first time in a decade) and finally, finally, returning to his face. His smile doesn’t feel as stretched now.

His eyes are clear. Bendy can’t remember if his eyes have ever been this clear.

The burn dissolves with the gold ink, sinking down beneath the surface of his black body, igniting a pleasant thrum inside. Bendy thinks it may just be in the  place where his heart should be.

He had stilled sometime during the process, when the burning had bled away to discovery. He looks around now at the destruction he had unknowingly wrought- Henry’s desk has a slash in it from his claws, his cartoon self will now bear a tear in the shape of a facial scar. Henry’s ink pot is smashed to pieces on the ground, yet another ink spill to lend the place some character.

Henry himself seems unharmed, thrown back in his chair against the wall by Bendy as he was. He looks a little winded and Bendy remembers how old his creator is. There’s a flash of panic for Henry’s heart before he realizes what’s different about this view of him.

He’s looking up at Henry for the first time in years.

He looks down at his hands- pristine white gloves once again. Not a razor-sharp claw in sight.

“Bendy,” Henry whispers, voice reverent. “You’re back on-model again.” He reaches out hesitantly and Bendy bounds forward, taking the man’s hand in both of his. Henry never seemed as tall as he does now.

Bendy grins and it finally isn’t forced. His heart (because that’s what the gold ink was, it was all the good of Henry Stein and the memories of their lives together and Bendy is never letting that go) beats hard in his chest. He’s finally warm again. Bendy hadn’t even realized he was so cold.

“Henry, my old friend,” he says and speaking seems a gift from above- a gift from his True Creator, “am I glad to see you again.”

[brownmuse]

Erik’s Theory of Happiness: Part I - Chapter III (Final Preview)

Hi y’all! I know I’ve been taking more time than originally planned on this chapter, but quality over quantity is highly important to me and I want to always put out the best for my audience. This chapter has been quite challenging from the large amount of information you learn about Erik’s background that plays an essential aspect in the story. BUT looking at my progress I can finally say Tomorrow will be the day! Meanwhile here’s a final Long preview to keep you on your toes till then! Thank you for patiently waiting!

Erik! The modulated voice shattered Erik’s reverie, reintroducing him to an active dimension where life succeeded. Glaze melted from his eyes as he closed them momentarily before opening the curtains of his vision. Erik opened his hands several times before settling them on his lap. A weary sigh escaped his lips. Lost again searching for the doors of his enlightenment he could never find. His voice, his thoughts...would they ever reach the cosmos? “Erik, are you alright? You seem incredibly scatterbrained this session. Did something cause you to remember anything disturbing?” Scatterbrained. The label of forgetfulness. The label of disorganization. An inescapable curse attached to his disposition. Despite Erik’s indifference toward the stigmas he carried, his underlying insecurities regarding his psychological state could never silence the truth. Above everything, Erik feigned his charismatic smile. His endless thoughts of becoming nonexistent weren’t going to be disclosed to a stranger he’d known for only two months. Smiles kept them quiet, smiles kept him ambiguous. “I’m fine. Just thinking.” “And may I ask what these thoughts were that caused you zone out for nearly four minutes?” It’s really none of your damn business. “T’Challa’s having a birthday dinner today and I’m a little anxious.” “Anxious about?” Dr. Nykhor pressed. “People.” “People...” “People being nosy.” “Are you perhaps scared of people discovering you don’t talk?” Erik’s fingers stopped moving in the air and he pondered his next response. Instead, after some time, he took out his personalized notepad used for communication and wrote, holding it up for Dr. Nykhor to see when he finished. “Nobody really likes me, so I don’t care particularly about their reactions. They’ll just wonder why I don’t talk, and I don’t feel like explaining myself.”

Dr. Nykhor studied him carefully, absorbing every everything his soul burrowed causing Erik’s shoulders to straighten under her scrutiny.  The intrusion of her gaze stirred feelings reflecting humiliation, making him nauseous. “Surely your family has acquired some skills from sign language to communicate with you.”

Erik rolled his eyes at her baseless assumption. His muteness never rewarded him accommodations from anybody, his distant family being no exception. Communicating through sign language required generous dedication and patience for novices. His insurmountable burden carried weight too heavy for their shoulders, thus dowsing their acceptance in reluctance. Flipping the page, he documented his next response. “None of them are very versatile in sign language besides King T’Challa.”

“Why doesn’t King T’Challa translate for you during this dinner?”

Next page. “He only knows moderate sign language from here, but no ASL. I don’t like switching frequently between both.”

More notes. She soon sighed, alerting him of her subtle impatience and frustration slowly crumbling beneath her professionalism. The suggestions she contrived were approaching scarcity. These moments always solidified how incurable his mind had become. 

Erik’s irritation quickly dissolved into dejection. Ornamented melancholy. A feeling he tried suppressing because such emotions birthed weakness, an experience he unfortunately encountered many times beyond his favor. It loiters inside whilst him helplessly trying to shut it out, scratching and aching his every bone; It crawled around in his stomach and fired spears at his heart. Whispering acidulous words inside his heart and biting his tongue. Weakness opened doors for vulnerability. Passable thresholds beholding a light that showcased shame on the other side. Constantly allowing unwanted visitors to denounce his wounds. No key existed to permanently secure the doors from emotional intruders. Somehow his tightened bolts were always dismantled, his heart spilling sorrows onto everyone’s feet. The likelihood of him ever speaking again was minimal.

Official Masterlist

Taglist: @iamrheaspeaks @muse-of-mbaku @eriknutinthispoosy @killmongersgurl @kimpossible1977 @terrablaze514 @chaneajoyyy @jozigrrl @cmonkillmonger @madnessmakers @wakanda-inspired @fruitpunchflavoredstarburst

[lxveille]

on numbers

(or: veille thinks, and then proceeds to type, just way too much)

so, back in november i started writing fic again. i’ve written fanfiction on and off since i was in middle school, for various fandoms, and i hadn’t written it in ages when suddenly i decided i wanted to write a thing about dancing at a bar with soonyoung. so i wrote, and then let myself get this crazy idea that maybe if i enjoyed writing it, someone might enjoy reading it.

as i mentioned before, i’ve written in a whole host of fandoms and on various platforms over the years. when i decided to start sharing it on here, i tried to go into it and maintain a different kind of philosophy about sharing fics than the ones i’d had in the past. so, feel free to skip on by, but i’m going to ramble a bit about that, because i would probably not still be posting things at all here if not for it --

i think dissatisfaction is kind of innate in humans, or at least modern humans. and social media is a hotbed for comparison and the unhappiness that can come with it. i’m sure it’s not just an advent of the internet; i’m sure humans have always been a bit fixated on being able to quantify their success -- but being able to have a count of of how many people “care” about what you’ve done (via likes and followers (on platforms beyond just tumblr!) and so forth) is a tempting trap. i feel my worst on here when i find myself looking at numbers or when i see other people celebrating milestones and such, because that’s what draws me into the whole horrid thing of comparison, when i find myself boiling down what i’ve done to numbers as if they are an indication of anything at all. i feel my best when i actually go back to the thought that made me post the first fic here in the first place: maybe someone will enjoy it too. when i remember how big of a number one really is. because it’s not just one speck of dust, but one human (a whole person! with their own lives and priorities and finite existence on earth!) out there who spent time with something i wrote and who, in the end, tried to communicate something back about it.

none of this is meant to invalidate comments other content creators have been making. of course it would be nice to get more feedback; it would be dishonest to claim that i wouldn’t like it. i guess i mostly mean it as a potential mind-frame shift for some of those who are discouraged by the amount feedback they currently get.

(and perhaps this is me being a cynic, but i wonder: if were the standard for me to get a 100+ notes on something, would i instead be wondering why i don’t get a 1000? the honest answer, for me at least, is that i probably would. again, tying back to the idea of dissatisfaction being innate. and perhaps it is natural because it’s part of human nature to want more and to want to do better, but this mindset has its obvious pitfalls)

the truth is we can’t really change how other people interact with our content; we can only try to change how much we value these things, how much we value the number ‘one’ and how we factor those things into our reflections on how valuable/successful/good our work is. and i know this might sound like it’s just another long-winded way of saying ‘just write for yourself, not for notes!’ -- and again, i understand why these kinds of comments are frustrating. the key problem with those kinds of remarks is that if we wrote just for ourselves, we wouldn’t bother posting it in any kind of public space. but i guess in lieu of that, the philosophy that keeps me going perhaps boils down to write for someone, not for notes.

of course getting away from the number-centered mindset isn’t easy; i fall back into it from time to time, and i can get quite down when i do. and it’s not like it’s limited just to tumblr and writing. the fixation upon higher numbers is so pervasive nowadays (it is among the reasons why i’m basically nonexistent on most social media platforms; but at work it’s not uncommon for me to hear young people, who are really only just in the beginning of forming their online presences due to age, stressing over the amount of ‘likes’ they receive on one post or another.)

even ‘write for someone’ can be tricky when tumblr can feel pretty cliquey and isolating at times, for me at least (which can honestly be as discouraging as the feedback thing -- but that’s a whole other, mostly-me issue). this is when i take a step back and think about my experiences as a reader, about fics that have made me smile or clutch at my chest or laugh. when i remind myself that there’s a decent chance i’ve written something that could come to someone else’s mind when they do the same thing.

and on that last note, it’s difficult not to close this all out by encouraging it to be two-way street kinda thing. being a reader can feel like a fairly passive thing, but as soon as you are invested (when your mood changes because of a story, or you find yourself rooting for a character or building hopes for what might happen next, etc), it becomes active. you essentially become the someone it was written for. let the creator know you’re out there.

alright. that’s it.

all the best and all the love to you, regardless, but perhaps an extra dose of love if you made it this far ❤ thank you.

[survivorkalokairi]

Episode 1: “How do I bond with people” - Mitch

Dylan C

https://youtu.be/MiBLiRlSzFc

Stephen

It’s round one and I’ve already learnt a foreign word for pee, this seasons gonna be great

Cam

hello everyone and welcome to HOLY FUCK by cameron, your local certified sick kid

so first of all

I HAVE DYLAN AND MATT SUMMERS AND MITCH ON MY TRIBE

which is all fine and dandy

ABBEY IS ON? THE OTHER TRIBE?

which is also fine and dandy

blake is super sweet and i adore this newbie already!! he's like "im so overwhelmed im in two games"....... sweetie

BUT ALSO

so i message jay to idol hunt

"first in line"

i say "this is door 9 all over again!"

i wait about 15 minutes

go through the path, dee dee dee dee dee

"fountain or pay an offering to the statue" 

me, in my hellenic witchcraft practices, knowing the goddesses really like offerings, gonna offer aphrodite some food (sorry hera)

guess what aphrodite gives me?

an idol. she gives me an idol. i'm truly blessed. this is ridiculous. i got the idol the very first idol hunt of the season.

i'm shaking.

Dylan C

oh my god how to I play a game with my close friends sksjsh (i’ll make a Proper confessional later)

Brittany

i've been doing duolingo for, like, an hour now and there are so many ways to say the. i've counted around 4. it's pretty fun though, and everyone on my tribe seems really cool and nice cx

Zabbey

Wow ok so my tribe is really cute and wholesome so far. I'm playing with JG, Timmy and Stephen which is cool bc i lowkey know them all but I've never played with them so thats fun! I cant really speak on the newbies since I havent really talked to any of them yet but I'm excited to get to know them! It's wild knowing cam and dylan are on the other tribe, I hope i get to play with them too! 

Stephen

Cal is the best, i would love to work with Cal, JG, Timmy, and Zabbey. But i’m still gonna gove the other new guys a chance, still very early days to start making alliances. That being said I’m still very happy we have had a majority on a call, make some ties. *glares at atomic “all-stars”*

Zach

So uh...so far nothing. Unless I’m completely out of the loop. I really like my tribe mate Zabbey. She seems cool and we have the same sense of humor. I really hope to align with her, but we’ll see how it goes. I also really admire Maynor for volunteering to sit since he has to work today. So far I think our tribe vines well. No tea to spill yet, but I’m sure there’s more to come.

Alex

Many people werre talking about drag race and I've never seen it and I kinda knew this would happen to me at some point in mylife when I end up being the bad gay who hates Lady Gaga and hasn't seen drag race and we're here folks.  lol I guess I'll stay quiet and hopefully noone will find out 

J.G.

Night one was, interesting to say the least. I was a little worried because I knew that I had to work during the first hour of the game and with new people I did not want to miss out on the bonding opportunities. Shockingly few were active among the noobies mostly Zach and Cal. The vets on my tribe, I actually know which is wild. Stephen and I have played together in the past, not together but there is for sure no bad feelings, that I know of. Abbey and Timmy I have never played with them but I know of them from the community. I have always wanted to play with them and excited for this opportunity. I know from a viewer this will come off as boring but I do feel that sticking with the vets is going to be smart at least in the early stages but mark my words, if I have any say, Abbey will be the last boot before merge. There is no way hell, I am letting her get any where near merge, I am not dumb no what she can do. Sorry Abbey, you're queen but the queen is not gonna stay queen. I really want to make a three tight alliance with Stephen and Timmy and ride with them but they could always tip off Abbey and use it to their advantage so I need to just chill and let things play out. I feel that if we are to go to tribal in the early stages, I can picture two noobs being easily targeted for inactivity. Oh, let's also talk about how I got freaking 20% disadvantage night one like I always do, and then turn around to get a 10% advantage the next day. I'm mess but I'm gonna keep eating these grapes because they're pretty good.

JG

So I was really sure I was going to be in the first alliance of the season amongst the vets but nope that didn't happen. I am in a unprecedented alliance with Abbey, yeah the person I said I want to make sure gets out before merge and Zach. Our alliance is called Two Gays and a Bi-by ... iconic as fuck. With a smaller tribe starting size with 8, smaller alliances are key plus I feel that we can easily pull some side votes for numbers to honestly keep our alliance alive and active. This makes targeting Abbey really hard cause it could turn Zach against me. I will have to be very cautious, how I go about this. I also talked to Cal and was making sure I connected with him cause I know he was putting work in on Timmy and Stephen last night. That is something I will have to monitor. That can not be allowed to happen. I think working with Timmy would be fun and cool but it's looking like that if after a early not so active noob goes and we need to find another target, I think Timmy would be a fine first threat to knock out leaving Stephen and Cal up in the air.

Cal

Lots of stuff! I was late to the party at the intro but got to chat with Timmy, JG, and Stephen. I learned about their past in the community as well as talked about the many moods of trying to learn greek. One such mood is probably me always confusing the "pi" sign and the one shaped like the letter "p" leading to accidentally translating baby as fool. Ironically I really don't want to be seen as either while a baby or fool especially since I'm new. I've really enjoyed meeting my tribe mates but I'm afraid to see where the pleasant meet and greet ends and the game begins.

Maynor

My thoughts on this tribe is that i like everyone and i dont want any of them to leave. Ive been trying to talk to everyone n try to be social player since im sitting out the first challenge.

Blake

welp. i still dont really know whats going on but... IM HAVING FUN. Ive talked with Dylan C a bunch and we have gotten to know each other pretty well. The greek challenge? a MESS. I havent been able to do a lot and the little i have done is not even worth mentioning. I hope the next challenge is a little easier for me but until then... YAY! 

Maynor

Last night Brittany and I started talking and decides since we are newbies that we will work as a duo to keep each other safe since the game has newbies & returning players. As of right now she is my #1 but i am talking to others.

Maynor

Second day has been very interesting. Ive been talking to Cal and J.G. pretty much all day seperately. And both want to align and J.G brought up maybe doing three person alliance and he said we should try n bring in Cal. In my head i was like yes. So now its an allince of me, Cal, and J.G. which is great. If its all 100% (my end it is) then this is going to be great.

Timmy

Wow, I haven't made a confessional yet. WE WON IMMUNITY!!! I'm very relaxed now, but also I don't think I would have gone anyways so woot woot. I did the worst on my tribe so that's not too great (pretty sure the 810 from the post was my score), but I still did better than the entire other tribe so wooo. I'm so happy to finally be in a game with Abbey and I really want to work with her and we have been talking already about the nothingness that has come from our idol hunts so that's good. I still haven't talked to Zach or Brittany so I need to do that soon, Zach seems nice in the tribe chat but Brittany seems nonexistent at the moment even though she did well in the challenge. 

Cam

well i may have won a main season last night

but let me tell you

WE DID NOT WIN THAT MY DUDES LMAO. we were literally beat ten times over. i hope the f tribe feels good about how much they squished us. they... earned that. truly. 

but now jay says... there's an announcement? and this is what immediately ensues

On 7/21/18, at 9:29 PM, Jay 🐠 (Kalokairi Host) wrote:

> but first there will be an announcement

On 7/21/18, at 9:29 PM, Cameron Culpepper (Atomic Admin) wrote:

> oh no

On 7/21/18, at 9:31 PM, Dylan R. wrote:

> oh cool

and it was just announced! so there is redemption. this is nice! i'm less worried about work now. like obviously i'm gonna do my best? but... if i fuck up at least there's a CHANCE.

oh yeah and the idol. day 2 in the game, still haven't told anyone, so that's pretty cool! we'll see how long that lasts.

dylan c and i had a conversation about how if we don't work together neither of us will hold it against the other but like... im pretty sure we're gonna work together anyway. 

wouldn't it be cute to make f3 with dylan c and abbey? god that's the dream. but it won't happen.

Maynor

The alliance is official between me, JG, and Cal. Are alliance name is MEW but greek that looks like mew. I like both and i hope they are ride or die as i am with this alliance. But just so we could have one more vote, im keeping my ally, Brittany, secret for now. 

Mitch

Welcome to Greece! I consume goat cheese, so I'm something of a Greek expert myself you know. I'm very excited to meet all of my tribemates but now I'm probably going to talk about them individually since Idk what else to do

I haven't played a game in so long I have no fucking idea how to socialize oh my god. I feel like everything I type is awkward and sad. At least the first challenge was relatively easy since I never had to type anything and have free time up the wazoo . But fuck we got crushed lmao. I dunno what secret they used but I take comfort in knowing that they were probably worried about us doing the same thing. Maybe I probably won't get voted out for having a score of 600 but WE SHALL SEE

Alex - Where is he? He did the challenge but he hasn't said a word ever. I want to keep him but uh Blake - 15 exp huh. 15? :| I only got increments of 10 where did the 5 come from Cameron - Aaaa. I enjoy Cameron and hopefully he enjoys me Dylan C - Oh this distinguishing between Dylans will be fun. But hopefully this Dylan and I can... meet in the middle somewhere yes Dylan R - One of the 4 people who have spoken to me! This kid is GOING PLACES and I'm glad to help him along for the ride Maddie - She is camping and I completely understand. Matt - I mean sure Matt and I KNOW each other but do we really? It's not like we were buddy buddy in Navarino. Unless he thinks we were? If he does... uh oh

How do I bond with people

Cal

Maynard just brought together me and JG together to start an alliance all while the results of the immunity challenge was finished. I was nervous but not only did we win but we have an amazing three that is called ΜΞΨ(after the first letters of our names), which is called that thanks to me! I just thought it'd be fun to name it like a frat since we've been learning greek and also hopefully dominate! JG and Maynard are great guys and I'm excited to work with them as ΜΞΨ but I also am keeping in mind ΜΞ(me lol) in the game for when we do have to go to tribal! Mu Xi Psi out!

Dylan R

For the first tribal, I'm obviously worried. As for targets, I'm not sure there are any at this moment. I guess I'm voting based on tribal performances, but I would be open to other people's suggestions. I would consider myself closest to Matt, Dylan C and Mitch so those three are who I would want to vote with. 

Stephen

I found half a “special idol” in the mangroves! While I am happy and I will still search for the other half I do have to decide if I want to tell anyone. In a previous season I told one person and they betrayed me (thanks tim) but in the end that led the person who had other half to reach out to me. However I can’t expect the same thing to happen this game, every games a new game. So I think I’m gonna keep it to myself, if somebody else tells me or is revealed to have the other half I might tell them, but for now I’m just gonna search for the other half and be content that no one can use the whole thing against me.

Zach

We won the first challenge!!!! I was expecting it to be a lot closer tbh. But I have an alliance of 3 that I’m fairly confident in! I wouldn’t say I completely trust them yet though. Both of them have played before and so it’s scary to think that they might just be playing me. I guess time will tell. I’m also curious to see what other alliances will show themselves when we finally start talking and going to trial. Also a little worried that I might be playing to hard out of the gate. We’ll see and I’ll probably get used to playing as time goes on.

JG

My mom (Jay) has officially cancelled me y'all. My tribe freaking won by over 13 to almost 2k. Holy crap. Like did the vets on the other side never play this comp before? Like with maybe a little work and patience, you could get easily 1500XP without really grinding maybe more. I am honestly perfectly o.k. with these results I wanted us to win badly because of having to go to work tonight, I did not want to bother with the stress of that. Plus, the night before my work had an emergency so I am definitely not in a place ready to emotionally invest and make a move in the game. ΜΞΨ is an alliance that formed between Maynor, Cal, and myself. The alliance names from the first letter of our names in Greek to kinda make a frat/sor name. Maynor approached me wanting to make  a final 2 and go really far. I am down with this for now of course, this game is constantly changing and moving. He asked me if we wanted to make a threesome to help our odds and asked me for suggestions. I suggested Cal because I knew I wasn't in any other alliances with him yet and this will allow me to keep an eye on him making sure he doesn't get close to Timmy or Stephen. Before I went off for the night Stephen and I officially talked about how the vets probably should create an official thing because it wouldn't hurt for us to work at least together in the early stages of the game. We decided that it should be discussed and formed today. Once that happens your boy is literally in an alliance with everyone besides Brittany and she actually did really well in the challenge. This scares me that she is either close to others or just someone I am not gonna be able to connect with. I heard from others that people are forgetting she's here, at the least she is a competitor. Either this is gonna blow up in my face or gonna allow me to position myself really well going into merge. Mama mia, my tribe isn't going tribal but I feel I made some of the biggest moves. Time will tell, I guess 

Zabbey

SO A lot has happened since I last confessed!!!! I am now in a baby alliance with JG and Zach which is wholesome. Zach is super hype and its v endearing and im a stan. JG also said him and Stephen have talked about a vet alliance which would be the easier way to go but I don't really want to. I don't want to play this game based off of outside relationships, I'm not necessarily going to align with Cam and Dylan is we make it onto the same tribe. In more impotant news ya bITCH FOUND THE IDOL! My literal third search! Timmy told me that he was looking in the hotel rooms so I was gonna do that but then Jay said roof and I was like why not and my witch ass gave that offering and got me a sexy idol! I don't plan on telling anyone about it unless I absolutely have to! 

Blake

I'm realizing now that im probably going to be seen as invisible the whole time bthrfnm dont know if thats good or bad LOL. But I finally have an alliance and its with people that I actually enjoy talking too :) Me, Cameron and Dylan C formed a group called Bicons (Bi Icons LMAO) and they seem to be really loyal. I have no idea what im doing but i hope people find me funny and want to keep me hfuiejf. (I HAVE NO IDEA WHO IM GONNA VOTE OFF)

Maddie

I came into this game after 2 nights had already gone by. I am really scared that I will be voted out tonight because I would be the easy since not very many people know me.  

Dylan R

The first tribal is the most important tribal, at least from a game perspective. That’s why I’m taking a gamble and trying to target after Blake. We need people who will win challenges, and after his score of 15 I’m not sure if he’s best suited. I need 4 votes to tie. I believe I’ll have Alex & Maddie, so right now I’m focusing on the fourth vote. Dylan C seems wary about this vote, so I’m trying to convince her now. I told her that “other people have mentioned Blake” when really it’s just me lol. I don’t wanna tell anyone else, simply because I don’t want people thinking I’m playing too hard, so I’m hoping the votes will tie or the votes will be spread. I’m taking a bit of a gamble because this could put a target on my back, but I do love gambles so I can’t resist. This will probably come back to bite me, but it is redemption island so I guess that’s always a fallback.

Cal

Missed a lot of discussion about past games because I was meeting up with someone impromptu. It's daunting but also exciting to face the experience of some of my tribe mates. It's the feeling of a glorious revolution of the new players against the old! I aim to learn as well, but also have really enjoyed speaking with my tribe but fear people are getting wind of the ΜΞΨ alliance since me, JG, and Maynor are speaking a lot. I gotta figure out my mist! Mu Xi Psi out!

Stephen

The tribe chat: Jay is about to get represented by an agent!!!!! ajdnfkksxjsnxxcz

Cal in my PMs: I just got laid

............okay cal. I guess he ws just being friendly? But things like that are sort of a hot topic for me, but I don’t think thats something he needs to know. And its probably not something to get into in confessionals. Maybe if we become besties we can have a dnm about it later.

Dylan C

https://youtu.be/8oaTFmpiv0I

Dylan R

The first tribal is the most important tribal, at least from a game perspective. That’s why I’m taking a gamble and trying to target after Blake. We need people who will win challenges, and after his score of 15 I’m not sure if he’s best suited. I need 4 votes to tie. I believe I’ll have Alex & Maddie, so right now I’m focusing on the fourth vote. Dylan C seems wary about this vote, so I’m trying to convince her now. I told her that “other people have mentioned Blake” when really it’s just me lol. I don’t wanna tell anyone else, simply because I don’t want people thinking I’m playing too hard, so I’m hoping the votes will tie or the votes will be spread. I’m taking a bit of a gamble because this could put a target on my back, but I do love gambles so I can’t resist. This will probably come back to bite me, but it is redemption island so I guess that’s always a fallback. 

Dylan R

Ok so like. Convincing people is hard lol. New tactic: I told Alex that people are targeting him in hopes that it’ll ignite him enough to save himself. I want Alex as an ally, but if he can’t save himself then I don’t want him as an ally

Brittany

so i'm late to making this confession but we won the first challenge and i'm still so?? happy about it?? and by a lot too, and there i was panicking and speeding through duolingo lmao. hopefully this is a sign and we stay doing this well lol

J.G.

Yeet,one last confessional before the round is over. I am honestly really anxious to see what happens at this tribal whether a vet or noob will go. While I do not think that this will be a prevalent theme in decision making, it something I am keeping in the back of my mind. I don't want people to be able use that against me to vote me out. That's why I will feel really inclined to stick with the vets if a vet is voted out tonight over a noob. Who knows what that tribe will do they have several options.

Finally, officially the vets (Abbey, Timmy, and Stephen as well as myself) finally came together to form an official alliance called The Nursing Home. I am really keeping an eye on Timmy and Stephen, they give me some minor sketch vibes but it could just be me over analyzing.

Well, 1 week down, several more to go. 

Dylan C

I’m getting a concerning amount of radio silence form some cast members. Is it because they’re inactive or ignoring me?? Lmao mattI'm so excited to be on Kalokairi! This has been a lifelong dream. Who wouldn't want to live on a gorgeous Greek island, where every piece of drama or sadness is resolved by breaking out into 70s Disco Pop and choreographing elaborate dance routines featuring wacky props like scuba fins? And to be able to play the game of Survivor while doing it? Wild!

My tribe is literally so wholesome. The other "veterans" are all so fantastic, and the newbies are so pure and fun and I love talking to them. The only person I haven't gotten to speak one on one to is Alex, and it seems like that's the case for the rest of the tribe. After getting THWUMPED in that immunity challenge, it's nice that we can all come together in a cohesive vote to hopefully power through in the future.

I found a leather necklace at the market, but it doesn't actually do anything until I combine it with another part. I'm not sure if my best strategy is to keep it hidden or let everyone know I have it in case they're also looking for it, but I think I'm going to keep it to myself while I search a bit more.

I'd really like to work with Cameron long term, and I have a crush on Dylan R okay that is all goodnight.

Cam

so i've been wrestling with the decision on whether or not to tell Dylan C about the idol. 

I still haven't told him. Day 3! Nobody knows but me. that's pretty cool. 

it's pretty quiet around the vote right now? everyone is still asleep i think, and morale is a little low following last night. 

-----

I didn't submit that before I left for work, rip

Cam, certified short term memory loss haver

Alex was unanimously eliminated.

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Bree you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Septima Vector

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Welcome back, Bree! We are so excited to see your Septima back with us once again, she truly is a joy to have on the dash. You make her such a layered and compelling character with the perfect contrast between how she is ruled by logic but also deeply vulnerable underneath it all. It’s so clear that you love playing her and she has been so well developed that we cannot wait to see what you do with her from here on!

application beneath the cut 

OUT OF CHARACTER 

INTRODUCTION

It’s Bree! I’ve returned! 20, she/her, CST

ACTIVITY

6/10; I am taking 6 classes and doing hours in a school, but all my classes are evening so my days are free!

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

Simply checking back in and wanted to come back!!

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

I’ve kept this answer pretty consistent for… well, years. It would definitely be one of the Weasley girls, either Molly or Ginny. In more than just the sense of being the only girl in a family of boys, Molly is constantly acting as a mother to not just her own family, but her friends, which is a role that I frequently take. Ginny is strong and resilient which are two traits that I try to embody on the regular.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Not a thing <3

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Septima Genevieve Vector

FACE CLAIM

Adelaide Kane (or Lily Collins)

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

WHY DO I WANT TO PLAY SEPTIMA? why wouldn’t I want to play my broken dear? I know that back when I applied for Septima like… forever ago, I had been interested in taking on a character that doesn’t seem to have much of a background outlined within the books. Septima is very much one of the background characters, but she still works her love of numbers and logic into helping the cause not once, but twice- in both wars.

So, as far as how I approach Septima, it is in a very closed off manner. Y’all might remember that, me being the worst like I am, wrote the future Professor Vector a real tearjerker of a background where her mother had passed when she was very young and her father had abandoned her, leaving her to be raised by her grandmother until she was 16 and all alone in the world. It caused the young woman to go from being only cautious with her heart to closing herself off completely- since feelings were irrational and she was a sane being. This unfortunately throws wrenches in all the friendships she had formed over the years, leaving the Ravenclaw to be torn between Aversio and the Order.

While the sincerity that she possesses in the depths of her being tell her that their has to be a better way of approaching the fight so no more individuals- innocent and pure individuals- die, the logical side takes precedent now as she rules that no one is innocent any longer and sacrifices are to ensue for a greater cause.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

So, I now imagine that Septima(she/her) is pansexual- because despite herself, she has found herself attracted to an individual based on their personality- their wit, really. Of course, relationships are completely illogical to her though so, when it comes to needing a quick pick-me-up, she tends to gravitate toward men more.

(this makes sense in my head, but i have no idea whether it makes sense written out like this…)

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

-A MOODBOARD

https://sxptimavxctor.tumblr.com/post/162328560888/septima-vector-moodboards-1-septima

-AN AESTHETIC

https://sxptimavxctor.tumblr.com/post/159397507118/septima-vector-aesthetics-1-fool-me-once

https://sxptimavxctor.tumblr.com/post/166312112978/septima-vector-aesthetics-6-horrors-are

https://sxptimavxctor.tumblr.com/post/161957391178/septima-vector-aesthetics-4-how-can-part

https://sxptimavxctor.tumblr.com/post/159446175638/septima-vector-aesthetics-2-future-au

-A PLAYLIST

https://sxptimavxctor.tumblr.com/post/164992262123/listen-here-j-o-a-n-n-e

-A FEW HEADCANONS

https://sxptimavxctor.tumblr.com/post/160108406753/23-what-is-one-unique-thing-youre-afraid-of

https://sxptimavxctor.tumblr.com/post/159745650223/brighid-tell-us-about-your-relationship-with-your

Edith Atkinson, Septima’s grandmother on her mother’s side, had spent her entire life reporting on the pureblood lifestyles through her work, realizing long ago that she did not want her daughter, and subsequently her granddaughter, to grow up with such entitlement. Their lives remained quiet, reserved much like the personality that Septima grew into. Small cottage in Devon just for the pair with spacious fields as far as one’s eye could see. For years, the young brunette had no idea that there were individuals in the world who thought they were superior to others because of the make up of their blood; though that possibly had to do with the fact that she rarely thought about the make up of her own blood.

Upon abandoning Septima, her father- Enzo Vector- began associating with former Ballycastle Bats teammates who were strong supporters of “not tainting their pureblood.” He is currently working with the Death Eaters, though Septima does not know how heavily involved he happens to be since she’s had no contact with him since her mother passed.

-A FEW POTENTIAL PLOT POINTS

Death Eater connections who know Enzo, and maybe attempt to use him as leverage against Septima or something to that degree.

A connection who works as a contact for Septima with information on her father and his goings-on

Order connections who are suspicious, or know of her involvement in Aversio.

Order connections who are suspicious of her and accidentally end up following her meetings about her father with previously noted connection.

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

The following section should be looked at like a survey for your character. Answer them in character and feel free to use gifs. Or, if you’d rather, answer them in third person or OOC without gifs. Answers do not have to be extremely lengthy.

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

“I do believe it would be quite helpful if there was a spell or potions of sorts that could help with more hands, or cloning of sorts. It would make things immensely easier if I could be in multiple places at once. Though I suppose there would be a problem with the consciousness of the clones if that was the case… Perhaps we’re better without.”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

“Oh by far, I would want Aurora by my side. We would both be able to keep our heads about ourselves and not fuss over trivial encounters that may occur in the forest. And as far as the object… well, my grandmother had some spades that were quite heavy. I’d say they would do well to whack someone with, if it came to that…”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

“Most difficult? I really rarely have any trouble making decisions, truly. Blessing and a curse, as I’ve been told. I s’pose though, if there had to be an aspect where I fail a bit, it would be decisions that involve other individuals. It’s hard to make decisions that involve others when they all tend to think far more irrationally.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

“That I’m incompetent, naturally. Though, I suppose that would mostly bother me if it happens to be said by someone who has little knowledge of competency. Ignorance is a very ugly trait that too many do possess.”

REACTION TO LAST EVENT DROP

I know that you had a Septima until just a few days ago, so I don’t know how i would like to approach this. But I had an idea that she may have dropped off the map a bit while trying to find out more information about her dad. The other aspect of this, as long as it is approved by you all, would be that she had been hiding out in Devon in the cottage where she had lived with her gran and left to her in the will when she passed. Her attempts to find out information about her father did not go unnoticed by the Death Eaters, or D.E. enthusiasts, and when they realized that she was involved in the Order, they attempted to attack her there. Surrounded and alone, she grabs as much as she can and apparates back to her flat, figuring that the home will be burned to the ground. I believe that she’d be so shaken up, she would start considering leaving Aversio as she learns about works of the Order to get people to their side.

WRITING SAMPLE

Perhaps it was the fact that her father could not handle the death of her mother, or maybe it was that he always felt the way he was now portraying. At six years old, would any child be able to notice the difference, even one of an advanced intelligence like Septima? All she knew was that within a matter of days, she had lost two parents- one to mortality and the other to immorality. It was hard to understand that neither was her fault, despite her grandmother’s reminding her each day.

It was odd though how different her aunt Honor seemed to be in comparison to the man who she once knew as her father. Letters soon began to be written quite frequently between the young brunette and her father’s sister, in spite of the great distance there was from England to Australia. Time went by though and letters became less frequent, various factors coming into play. With the passing of Edith, Septima’s grandmother, and her becoming more rigid in addition to the stress that came along with being an independent adult and witch in the tension-filled wizarding world, time to write became nonexistent.

That was until the realization that her father was working with the likes of Death Eaters became common knowledge to the Ravenclaw. Receiving word back from her aunt, her suspicions were unfortunately confirmed.

“My dear niece,

It is quite lovely to hear from you after all this time. I hope you are keeping safe- I have heard whisperings of increasing violence back home. To hear this about my brother, unfortunately, is not all that surprising. Growing up with Enzo was challenging once we found out that I was a squib. He began viewing me in a different, less-worthy light; he even accused me of doing something to jeopardize my magic that resulted in my inabilities. He only hung around with individuals of pureblood in school as well, causing me to question whether this sorting hat really knew what it was doing. For some reason, he clung to this mental concept that purity was a necessity in the magical world. Your mother, Vivienne, she was really the only individual that had the ability to return him to the kind, sweet man that I had known as a young girl. It was just so unfortunate how ill she became so soon into their marriage. And despite the fact that they had you, Vivienne was his whole world and losing her clearly broke him in an irreparable fashion. In some way though, I believe it was good that fate intervened as it did. Your grandmother did such a spectacular job of raising you into the fine young woman you are, Sep. Enzo never had time to taint your view of the world into the narrow one that he possesses. Hope to hear from you quite soon, dear.

Love Always, Honor Vector”

[davidmann95]

The Current Superman History

So Superman: that guy’s had a wonky time of things in the last few years. He was rebooted, he was rebooted within the reboot by a five-dimensional bureaucrat with a grudge, he died, he was replaced by his own past continuity self, they merged...dude lives a hectic life. And now he’s got a whole new one, as outlined in Action Comics #977 and the new #978.

I’m putting this under a spoiler cut, since some will want to just read the books; I know my dad for instance doesn’t want to know anything until he can get his hands on the comics themselves. But Twitter-pal Kyle Pinion mentioned he was hoping someone would put together a timeline/overview, and I figure that could be useful, especially since there’ve been some important details only shared so far in interviews and minor online statements, or in other Superman Family titles rather than Action or Superman. If you’re perhaps not reading the Superman books right now, but you’re curious what the background of this new-ish version of the character is for whenever you hop back in, here’s the newest edition of Superman 101.

(Ultimately pretty minor) SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

(Note: I’ll be keeping this up-to-date with relevant information post-Reborn via flashback stories and such.)

The New History

* Krypton is still where he comes from - no bold new revelations on that front. Aesthetically it’s a blend of the Silver Age, New 52 and Byrne takes, with maybe a touch of Birthright thrown in; several Silver Age elements like the Vrang occupation of the planet, green comets as bad omens, and the Day of Truth have been restored, and Zod and Xa-Du are known to have been prisoners of the Phantom Zone (the former may or may not have been Jor-El's friend this time around, given in the flashback Jor-El didn’t seem to react to the news of his imprisonment). Bar-El and Lilo went off-planet ala All-Star Superman, but spaceflight was generally forbidden; Jor-El attempted to convince the Science Council to build arks to escape Krypton's destruction, but as "they'd rather count their riches" they ignored his warnings both out of disbelief and the thought that even if it was true they had years to spare. Kal-El and Kara Zor-El were launched into space right before Krypton blew up, as it’s wont to do; Argo City lived on in space for awhile before succumbing to Red Kryptonite poisoning. In all this, Rogol Zaar, who claims to have been responsible for Krypton’s destruction, seems to have been involved to some extent along with the group of powerful galactic figures known as The Circle, and it seems Jor-El survived to become ‘Mr. Oz”.

* Additionally, as far as Superman’s pre-birth background goes, the existence of Superman in the current continuum is also owed to Ahl, the God of Superheroes. Descending from Final Heaven, he touched down on Earth in prehistoric times (in the spot that would eventually become Mount Justice) and imprinted the Earth with the concept of justice, and the platonic concepts that would become Batman, Wonder Woman, and most directly descended from himself, Superman, who would then go on to give rise to all other superheroes. On an additional metaphysical note, Doomsday Clock specifies that the current Superman is indeed the Kal-El of the Golden Age, old-school Earth One, and post-Crisis, who has simply shifted over the years in response to cosmic upheaval rather than being a full-fledged new individual.

* The Kents found Clark in the field, and like in Byrne’s Man of Steel, they decided to pass him off as their own biological child to avoid legal complications. He pretty much lived the childhood we saw in Secret Origin; there are panels from that homaged showing him hanging out with Pete Ross and Lana Lang (Pete’s arm broken from the one time Clark tried playing football), and a red-haired Lex Luthor living there back then with a jar full of Kryptonite he was studying. Also as in Secret Origin he first realized he could fly when saving Lana Lang from a tornado. His life takes a turn though when his parents die the night of his senior prom, same as they did in Grant Morrison’s Action Comics.

* After travelling the world for awhile he settled down in Metropolis, where after revealing himself to the world in the classic costume, Lois named him Superman. His debut essentially went like this:

There’s a couple differences bringing it closer to how it happened in Secret Origin, but overall this is closer to the movie than that, at least in tone. And while he did not appear in this comic, presumably that dude was still yelling that that was a bad out-fit just off-panel.

* He met Batman at some point, and together they met with Wonder Woman shortly after her public debut (oddly in his Reborn suit, but that can be checked up to some timeline discrepancies given the current history shifts for both him and Diana, or more likely a simple continuity error). All prior to the formation of the Justice League, meaning that however that went, it was probably pretty different from Johns and Lee’s Justice League: Origins given he already knew at least a couple people there.

* He had a whole dang bunch of adventures. It’s clear vast swaths of Silver and Bronze Age continuity are back in play (though many must have happened in radically different forms, such as those involving Supergirl or his own now-nonexistent time as Superboy): the Supermobile - yes, that Supermobile, the flying Superman car with fists he used to fight Amazo that one time - made a cameo in Supergirl #8, a Superman Robot that looked exactly like him drove him, Nightwing, and Batman to the latter’s bachelor party, numerous Kryptonians native to Earth-One with very specific adventures attached to them were citizens of Kandor, and assorted Silver/Bronze Age Superman-associated folks are members of the space team Superwatch. It’s made clear he went through pretty much all the major 80s/90s stories, culminating in him getting engaged to Lois, telling her who he is (though he figures she already knew), his death by Doomsday and return (which is where Eradicator, Cyborg Superman, and apparently Steel showed up), and him getting married to Lois.  We also got a look at the Justice League trophy room in the second chapter of The Button, which include artifacts such as the Worlogog and Prometheus’ suit indicating a lot of Grant Morrison’s years on JLA are canon (as emphasized by the appearance of White Martians in the current Justice League), as well as the armor he wore as Darkseid’s brainwashed servant in the finale of Superman: The Animated Series, and elements from DC One Million have been repeatedly referenced. All three major Crisis events have been referenced as occurring in some form. Additionally, it has been confirmed that at some point Luthor served as President of the United States.

* At some point, he switched over to the New 52 armor costume, presumably going through many of those adventures with the caveat of being married to Lois rather than single or dating Wonder Woman (though he changed costumes prior to those adventures, as he was wearing that suit by the time of Batman: Hush). Lois learned she was pregnant and managed to surprise him with the news; nine months into the pregnancy their apartment was bombed by arms smugglers Lois had pissed off, and it was decided it would be safest to conduct the delivery at the Fortress with Batman and Wonder Woman on-hand to insure there would be no intrusions. While Batman waited grumpily standing guard outside, Diana ended up helping with the delivery since she was close with both Lois and Clark by this point (though she and Clark were never a couple).

*  Afterwards Lois and Clark took a sabbatical to California, living under the Lois and Clark comics’ status quo for a little while to keep Jon safe, with Superman ducking out of the public eye and League membership, working quietly in the black costume with the beard from that series; he also established a secondary Fortress in the Himalayas, while Lois wrote several famous books exposing corruption as "Author X". Once things calmed down after something like a few months to a year-ish, Lois and Clark returned to work (though they apparently didn’t move back to Metropolis, raising Jon somewhere else before recently moving to Hamilton, commuting by bullet train) and Superman to active duty, where he went through more New 52 adventures; Perry White was named Jon’s godfather. At some point after this, the current post-Reborn suit was permanently adopted until recently returning to his classic look (he also apparently wore the original Rebirth suit, since a version of Bizarro is still wearing it).

* No more than a year or two ago, Kara arrived on Earth. The events of her New 52 series are still to be read as canon, including for instance her time as a Red Lantern, with the exception of her involvement in the events of Final Days since there’s only been one Superman.

* While it’s not spelled out yet (assuming it ever will be), many of the events of the last year of the New 52 seem to have happened to him in some form, with both Truth and Final Days of Superman being cited editorially in New Super-Man in an issue featuring him post-Reborn; he has the Super-Flare, Supergirl says in her book that he was gone for a time, he mentions having power troubles to New Super-Man and fought a villain from Truth during the encounter, Dick Grayson recalls teaming up with him in his t-shirt and jeans look to fight Blockbuster, solar energy was extracted from him to create New Super-Man, Superwoman existed in some form, and Mxyzptlk pretended to be Clark Kent.

* From the “pre-Flashpoint Superman in the New 52 universe” period: most of the events from Dan Jurgens' Action Comics are canon; Doomsday was still a prisoner of Mr. Oz, and Luthor until recently continued to act as the Superman of Metropolis under a truce with his counterpart. Virtually all of the events of Tomasi/Gleason's Superman are canon, specifically the fight with the Eradicator, the excursion to Dinosaur Island on Earth 21, the run-in with Frankenstein and Bride, and the events of Multiplicity. His guest appearance in Deathstroke, his roles in Justice League and Trinity, and Zod’s role in Suicide Squad remain intact. The events of Reborn still happened, though his memory of it is blurred; as of Supergirl #8, he’s aware he was split into two Supermen for an extended period and was recently reformed.

Fine, Great, So What’s Actually His Deal Now?

In spirit, we’re back to the Pre-Flashpoint Superman, specifically I’d say the one before that but after Infinite Crisis: Secret Origin is clearly dominant (though not exclusive) as the narrative of his childhood and early days as Superman, a lot of Silver/Bronze ideas are back in play, and while most of Byrne and Triangle Years happened, he probably didn’t kill anybody in a pocket universe, and he didn’t come out of a birthing matrix. The change - along with Ma and Pa passing earlier - is that after a certain point (apparently before the period equivalent to his mid-2000s adventures) he changed his costume and eventually had some New 52-inspired adventures, and he and Lois ended up having a son who’s now ten and setting out on his own adventures as Superboy. He and the family have moved from a farm in Hamilton County back into Metropolis. Over the years, he’s fought Luthor, Brainiac, Darkseid, Metallo, Parasite, Bizarro, Mxyzptlk, Zod, Toyman, Eradicator, Cyborg Superman, Manchester Black, Mongul, Conduit, Imperiex, Blanque, Silver Banshee, Ulysses, and Xa-Du, among others, so pretty much all the greatest hits. The Fortress is back to having a lot of fun tchotchkes in it again too; the Supermobile’s there, crystal computers that let him Matrix-jack into hologram archives of his life and Krypton’s, Kelex is there, according to a recent Batman arc he’s using the dwarf star key from All-Star, there’s even a full-size train he and the family sometimes have dinner in. In the present though, Lois is currently in Chicago pursuing a story on her own (though she and Clark continue their relationship as normal given his ability to divide his time) and Jon has aged several years due to a time travel mishap on a space trip with Jor-El, and as the original Fortress was destroyed by Rogol Zaar, Superman moved everything to a new location in the Bermuda Triangle.

In terms of the larger world, Supergirl landed on Earth about a year ago, and for awhile lived a teen version of her TV show status quo, but is now in space with Krypto attempting to ascertain the truth of Rogol Zaar’s claims. Lex Luthor, recently semi-reformed though rapidly backsliding, went through events on a recent adventure with the Justice League that convinced him that his more savage and selfish instincts are in fact in accordance with a higher order and destiny for humanity over the supposed folly of Superman’s altruism, forming the Legion of Doom to realize this philosophical ‘breakthrough’ and destroy the League. The New Super-Man of China, Kenan Kong, remains in operation. And Conner Kent has returned with a new incarnation of Young Justice, though even he is unaware at this time how he fits into the current history of Prime Earth.

Which Stories Count?

Stories that definitely happened, whether near-identically to the original telling, or in very different forms to fit the new continuity framework

Secret Origin, And Then There Were Three... in Wonder Woman, The Case of the Second Superman, The Power-Boy from Earth, Superman’s Big Brother!, some of the old Silver Age Superman Robot stories given their presence, The Kents’ Second Super-Son!, The War Between Jimmy Olsen and Superman!, The Super-Family of Steel!, The Lois Lane Doll!, The Superman from Outer Space!, The Second Supergirl!/The Supergirl of Two Worlds!, The Conquest of Superman!, Supergirl’s Secret Enemy!, The Mystery of the Alien Super-Boy, Superman’s Super-Courtship!, The Super-Suitor of Soomar!, Duel of the Super-Duo!, Superboy’s Lost Identity!, Have I Ever Told You the Story About When I Saved Superman? in Cave Carson Has A Cybernetic Eye, Mystery Mission To Metropolis!, It’s A Bird...It’s A Plane...It’s A Supermobile!, For The Man Who Has Everything, Crisis on Infinite Earths, To Laugh and Die in Metropolis, Exile, The Day of the Krypton Man, Krisis of the Krimson Kryptonite, The Death of Superman, Reign of the Supermen, The Death of Clark Kent, The Wedding Album, Strange Visitor (from Cursed Comics Cavalcade), Superman Red/Superman Blue, Grant Morrison’s JLA, DC One Million, Legacy (of Superman: The Animated Series), Driver’s Seat and Suprema Est Lex from Action Comics Special, Luthor’s time as President, Our Worlds At War, Batman: Hush, Infinite Crisis, Final Crisis, The Return of Bruce Wayne, The Curse of Superman, The Ghost in the Fortress of Solitude, Lois and Clark, the New 52 Supergirl series, Men of Tomorrow, Justice League of America: Power and Glory, Truth, Darkseid War, Final Days of Superman, DC Comics: Rebirth, most if not all Rebirth-era appearances and Superman-family titles, Superman Reborn and forward.

Stories that while maybe not directly referenced are implied or are exceedingly likely to be canon

The Mysterious Mr. Mxyztplk!, The Name Game, and the covers of Superman Unchained (images from these are used to illustrate stories Clark told Jon, and given Jon still refers to Mxyzptlk as ‘Ruppletat’ in accordance with that, these would seem to still be canon by implication), Dominus Effect (Sharon Vance, aka Strange Visitor, is back in canon, her origin beginning here), Of Thee I Sing and JLA/Hitman (Hacken exists and is missing a hand in accordance with Zombie Night at the Gotham Aquarium), What’s So Funny About Truth, Justice, and the American Way? (while Manchester Black had other stories and a New 52 revamp, this is of course his most significant story), Superman at the End of Days (the death of Ma and Pa Kent is identical to how Vyndktvx organized it in this arc, and as lead-in stories The Curse of Superman and The Ghost In The Fortress of Solitude are both some degree of canon, as is the native Earth 45 of major villain Superdoomsday, it’s likely this happened), H’El on Earth and Krypton Returns (Shay Veritas’s presence, the confirmed existence of the Oracle, and the assured canonicity of Supergirl’s New 52 run imply H’El was likely around).

Stories that definitely didn’t happen any way we would recognize them

Last Son (the current version of Lor-Zod bears no resemblance to Christopher Kent and was never adopted by Lois and Clark), all Conner Kent Superboy stories for now (his debut in Reign of the Supermen has been omitted), Superman and the Men of Steel/The Boy Who Stole Superman’s Cape (of all modern origins, this take is most explicitly no longer any form of canon), Byrne’s Man of Steel (numerous details contradicting the major elements of this between Krypton, Luthor, Superman’s debut, etc.), New Krypton (Zor-El was still recently alive and a version of Cyborg Superman, with the fate of Argo City being significantly different), all Legion of Superheroes stories, Return To Krypton and any stories of a similar concept (Superman’s holographic ‘trip’ to Krypton in The New World is clearly framed as the first time he has seen his homeworld or biological parents), Identity Crisis (this has been repeatedly clarified as having not happened), Superman/Wonder Woman.

[caelmoco]

2016: The Highlights, The Lowlights, And How Rebels Got Me Through

To say I'm merely stumped about what to say about the last year is a lie. I'm actually thoroughly, completely, dug into a hole, stumped. (Great mental image that is. 6"1 me with short red hair just sticking out of some hole in the ground)

My stumped-ness can also be called writer's block. Which is both a curse and blessing to have when you're trying to reflect on what's being called a pretty terrible year? It’s a curse as releasing some of the stuff into the written word is quite therapeutic, and a blessing as it’ll dig up some emotions I probably want to keep buried for another few months. But I'm gonna break through this block and see if writing some lists will help.

Let's start with the good things about this year... CUE THE HIGHLIGHT REEL!

Highlights:

I got a job

I got my first ever tattoo

I managed my first ever team

I volunteered at ComicCon for the third year in a row

I worked behind a bar for the first time ever

I saw some wicked live music

I made red wine brownies

I went to Carols by Candlelight for the first time

I helped organised some of the biggest events at my university

I successfully documented a whole year of my life (which you can see here)

I pretty much wrote a novel (which you'll probably see never)

I discovered that my friends are what keep me grounded and that it doesn't matter how far away they are, they're bloody well there for me when I truly need it

I got accepted to go on exchange

I start working on my mental health

I finally got into podcasts

I had my most journal creative year  

I finally left behind my teenage years

I broke my coffee addiction

I finished that book about vaginas

I discovered Hamilton

Lowlights:

I lost some close friends

I didn't get the job I wanted

I had my most mentally unhealthy year

I discovered I have the family's vaginal curse

I had surgery for the first time ever

I lost some musical and acting heroes

I didn't do so well at university

I didn't do so well financially

I didn't use that planner I bought at the beginning of the year

I lost touch with what I want to do in life

I still don't have my license

I didn't do a bit of travelling (Melbourne doesn't count)

I slowly came to my senses and realised that I really shouldn't own plants

My love life is still practically nonexistent

I realised that the people I love aren't immortal and that I'll have to deal with death in my life soon

I still harbour those teenage feelings of fakeness and the insecurities that come along with it

I didn't write as much as I should have or wanted to

I still haven't gone to a First Friday at the art gallery

I rarely asked for help, and when I actually sought it out I ruined it for myself or didn't get the help I needed

I was sick for most of this year

Quite honestly? 2016 was fucking hard. I physically and mentally broke down in late April/early May, and I haven't really built myself back up yet. I left something that had been apart of my life for the better part of four years and didn't have anything to fill that void.

Actually, I did. I had myself to fill that void but I didn't.

Shortly after I broke down the world seems to have a breakdown of its own: from mass shootings to hate crimes to major shambles in politics to the rise of xenophobia and racism and hate and misogyny to losing our heroes and our icons to continuously problematic industries to acts against human rights... The list could go on and on and on but I'll stop here and let you know how the second part of this blog's title comes into play. As both the world and I broke down, I had a little thing called Star Wars to get me through.

Big shock, I know. Who’d have thought? This is so out of character for me. Talking about Star Wars? I never do that!

Last year I finally pinpointed why I love Star Wars so much - and if I continue on with this blogging thing throughout the year I may go into depth on this - but for now I’d like to say that apart from the fact that it has some kickass characters and is in SPACE, it’s essentially a story about rebels.

It’s about the underdogs. It’s about those who should have no chance at all, who are suffering and enslaved and have gone through tremendous loss. But, despite all that, they find hope. And the hope shown in Star Wars (plus the kickass characters and SPACE) got me through this year.

So cheers Star Wars, I owe you one.

Now enough about Star Wars and back to reflecting on 2016.

In summary, it was a bit shit. I came out of it uninspired and a little unhappy... But with a major change just around the corner. Most tend to end their years with resolutions. I’m not a huge fan of resolutions as they’re essentially broken promises to yourself. Instead, I like goals. And I’ve got a big one in mind that I’m typing down and publishing so I can be held accountable to it (that’s the bit where you come in).

My goal for the year? Get in touch with the parts I've forgotten. Fill that earlier mentioned void with focusing on my fitness, religion, spirituality, my social and political activism ways, by reading, creating, nurturing relationships. I want to work on everything that makes me who I am, I want to continue building on the hope we may so desperately need in the times to come... And I want to rebel a little. The plan is to track all of this through a range of creative outlets. I’ll either write something, or record something, or post something, I’ll do something and I’ll share it online so I’m held accountable for this potential progress (and maybe you’ll get something out of it too?).

So I think it’s safe to say I’m no longer stumped. Let’s remove that mental image of me dug in a hole from your mind, okay?