#obsessed... but more like they are current brain worms

[azim-steppes]

Tagged by @luciowned to post 5 songs Im currently obsessed with! Thanks for tag :3 (YT hyperlink for songs):

Lilium - Kumiko Noma/Elfen Lied OP

Tokyo Ballerina - Sparta Locals

It’s Time To Clean - Hot Dad

Beauty’s Wicked Wiles - Masayoshi Soken/FFXIV: STORMBLOOD

Touch The Sun - Cryalot

and as the next victims i tag… @rigil-kentauris @valerianvault @zelof @bother-blame @dullsunset @cheapcheapfaker if you want to do it!

[orcelito]

i really am so obsessed with how Double Agent Midvalley is gonna change the vibes with Wolfwood too. like Midvalley and Wolfwood ALREADY have some vibes due to their fight(s) in the manga. but now theyre both double agents but in different directions. two Relatively normal guys who wanted nothing to do with this battle between the angels & are STUCK HERE

also imagining that spiderman meme if/when they ever find out about each other lmfao. like what do you MEAN youre a double agent too?!? what do you MEAN!!!! IT'S FOR HIM!!!!!!!!!!??!?

Yeah.

[trashvinnie]

inspired by @where-does-the-heart-lie and given courage by @wolf-eared-fangirl and their own wonderful rendition of the asl kpop au.

i got inspired a whole lot by the notes and artworks from whery but also tried to make it my own by making it increasingly impossible realistically. one of those it’s a fanfic and i can make anything possible vibes.

all of these are just concept notes and ideas i was able to keep down for the past what? two months or so? there are a lot more wips and ideas, and i wanted to see if there was anyone who wanted to bump brains with me or was willing to indulge seeing my messy thoughts/notes.

i made law important because i am obsessed with not only asl but him too. no escape from the brain worms, really. even if he doesn’t really pop up in a lot of my current wips for this au…

i should make storyboards but my brain has latched to grps like exo or atz for like. clothes inspo. i have multiple concert wips that needed me to make an entire fake asl concert setlist so that was fun, considering how i ended up adding eng and jp songs… i cannot contain myself and have been repeatedly editing everything I have on this for months ,,,

[wolfythewitch]

Wolfy I hope you know that that little jontim animatic has taken me from not caring much at all about jontim to being stupidly obsessed with it in the span of like a day. Ive been stocking up on fics like I'm preparing for the apocalypse (and normally I hardly read tma fics at all unless they're crossovers). They're almost the only thing I think about right now even with the countless blorbos that live in my head. These two awful awful men are rotting my brain at record speeds how did I get here. What did you do to me and do you have more. What are your jontim brainworms saying wolfy I must know.

This is so funny I'm glad my art did that. My brain worms are currently looping this lyric on my head

[tototalks]

Currently obsessed with my brain-worm headcanon that Akielon Homer creates an epic about Damen and Laurent in honour of their ascension, except it’s just wildly exaggerated stories of Damen’s bravery and how great Akielos is.

Like it starts:

🎵 “Sing, O muses, of the rightful king of Akielos, as he laid waste to his ambitious kin, the charlatan king, Kastor. In fits of bravery he swift took the sacred citadel of Ios and won the favour of the famed beauty of Vere, the quick-witted prince, brother of Noble Auguste.” 🎵

And Damen and Laurent are listening like okay fair enough, that’s a thing that did happen. But then as it goes on it gets further and further from the truth in more and more hilarious ways.

🎵 “Thus heedfully did lion-hearted Damianos vanquish a hundred dastardly assassins with only his mighty hands, sent by the Veretian Regent, Proclaimer of Cowards. This done, he saved in turn the life of fair-haired Laurent of Vere, who, overcome with gratitude, prostrated at the feet of his Akielon king, now lover eternal.” 🎵

And Laurent is sat there like wtf, I literally took down one of those THREE assassins high off my tits, and made you wait until RAVENEL to get anywhere near my bed, and Damen is sat next to him grinning like and idiot and trying not to choke on wine when he starts laughing at the particularly endorsed bits.

Ofc, much to Laurent’s disdain, this epic gets extremely popular in Akielos.

(It’s also hilarious to think about how Pallas could literally be called Pallas Pallas as Athena is in the Iliad lol)

[phaeton-flier]

How Harris/The Dems should deal with "the border crisis" (nonexistant):

Quietly, do all of the actually good things an even slightly moral government would do. Restart the remain in place policy, let asylum seekers back in, do as much as possible to reduce the horrid idiotic inefficient aspects of the current visa system, etc

Every time anyone is extradited from the US for any reason, call it a deportation. "We're deporting this criminal out of the country." Every time you do this, make a clear distinction between the Innocent Families just trying to fulfill the American Dream, and the Bad Guys, who do bad things to those Innocent Families. Repeat that a lot, Americans love the deserving poor vs. the undeserving poor; the mistake Dems have made for the last 30 years is thinking you need to cut off a large number of people as "undeserving". In reality, you describe all the people you're helping as "deserving" and all the people you arrest as "undeserving". Bad Guys hurt Innocent Families, where Innocent Families encompasses both most migrants and you, the viewer at home.

Make giant immigration bill. Fill it mostly with whatever, maybe reform immigration if you can swing it, but it doesn't matter. Inside, in two small parts, will be: a) some minor provision that expands executive power at the border in some fashion. This doesn't need to actually do anything, probably shouldn't so the next president can't abuse it, maybe it affects some minutia about hiring and firing or what sort of arrests get sentenced first. But it can be spun as "giving the president the power to secure the border". and b) some culture war bullshit that the dumber Rs can flip out about. Make it as asinine as possible. Have a few interns spend a week on Twitter and Gab until they find whatever brain worms are popular on the Dumb Right and put it in. When they go on TV to complain about it, it should look to most viewers like they're insane. When the bill inevitably fails, have some guy go on TV and say the Republicans crushed it and made the border worse because they're obsessed with culture war nonsense. Harris really wanted to use that new thing to secure it! Whenever anything bad happens even tangentially related to the border or immigration, go on TV and say it's because we didn't pass that awesome bill, because the republicans cared more about some culture war bullshit. (If it passes, celebrate whatever you wanted in the bill passing and then say Rs watered down the border thing)

Every so often, when someone somewhere does a real bad violent crime and is an undocumented migrant and gets deported, make a big media circus out of it and tout it as a win. Make sure every new channel is connecting the idea, in viewers' brains, that this is the party that is deporting "the bad guys"

Find someone really sympathetic who was deported under the Trump and bring them back. You should do this anyways because it's the right thing to do, but in this specific case you want to find a religious light-skinned pretty young woman with decent English, who can go in front of the cameras and cry about how much she loves Jesus and America and her family, and how happy she is to be back.

Find an undocumented migrant who came in/overstayed their visa during the Trump who is an undocumented migrant who did a real bad violent crime who came in during the Trump administration. Imply this is the fault of him and his cronies' policies. The general slant you want here is that Republicans etc. cannot tell the difference between the Scary Bad Guys and the Innocent Families. This could be because they are incompetent or racist; describe in terms vague enough the viewer can interpret it themselves. Either way, Republicans cannot protect you because they cannot tell a Bad Guy from a Christian. When they start talking about all the border crossing, imply they think every one of those people is a Bad Guy and not an Innocent Family, because they are (incompetant/stupid/racist/unAmerican) You'll notice all of these things include "Go on TV and talk about it", which should be considered to be repeated three times every time it shows up. If there is one lesson to have learned over the last 15 years, it's that repeating something to the press often enough will change the message, whatever it is. Just keep saying it. Every time there's a win, go on TV and talk about how great it is. if you're having trouble getting your message out, put the pill in a piece of cheese: Have it leak to the press, who will lap it up because they lovvvvvvvve the idea that they're getting Cool Secret Scoops. Frame it as a horserace thing when Rs try and push back, and make it entertaining to have your guy on there talking down to whatever R they brought on for balance. Above all: be entertaining; News media might view themselves as being Guardians of Truth but they're in the business of selling ads and want eyeballs. Flatter the first illusion and feed the second, and they will give you endless free airtime.

[crystallizsch]

in the current event, grim says something like wow it must be nice to be going on vacation. im just gonna be at ramshackle all day. and it got me thinking because!!! yuu and grim really are in it together. he says he doesn’t remember having a family in book 4, so they really are all the other has. a lot of people, when talking about yuu’s problems, forget about grim a lot, i think. of course he gets yuu into trouble and isn’t very helpful, but he’s literally like. a kitten. he fights for? yuu and i just. think they are neat !

YESSS ANON

NOW THAT YOU MENTION IT I’M ACTUALLY OBSESSED WITH HOW THE STITCH EVENT SHOW THE “OHANA” FAMILY THEMES ESPECIALLY WITH YUU AND GRIM (and how it just made it more blatant in the ending) (thanks lilia for spelling it out hfjdjjd)

(source)

literally the recent event has grim all jealous of stitch and even overprotective of yuu (that one scene of grim jumping into water to try and save you??? that got me so much)

anyways you’ve opened a whole can of worms in my brain ougheghdhegr

i dont talk about yuu and grim often but they are actually one of my favorite dynamics in the game

imagine being transported into an unfamiliar world and the only thing that is remotely in the same situation as you is some kind of talking magical cat that doesn’t even respect you in the slightest, looking down on you.

also what are even the conventions in this place? are you even going to be okay? sure you’re being kept in this… ramshackle building but what’s guaranteeing your safety? “accidents” can happen.

then this talking cat is back and suddenly you both are begrudgingly a package deal. you’re essentially just using each other. yuu needs grim bc they’re magicless and grim needs this human to attend this school.

but (since they really have no choice anyway) they spend all this time together that they eventually become THE package deal.

like at that point who is grim without yuu and who is yuu without grim?

it’s also interesting bc grim seems to have these childish tendencies on top of acting like… a cat.

so of course he becomes so attached and dependent to them. who else has given this feline direbeast a home after all? why it’s yuu, of course. especially when he doesn’t remember anything else.

and to compensate, grim is the one to protect yuu. in his mind he’s the leader, he’s the protector. it’s a failure on his part as the great mage grim if he lets anything bad happen to his hench human.

and for yuu’s part, this feline beast is the one who’s always there with them funnily enough (there’s also ace and deuce but they’re not the focus here right now)

so similarly yuu cares about grim as much (at least that’s how i choose to interpret it bc you could argue yuu only “cares” bc if anything happens to grim, they’re kinda fucked)

grim is definitely more than this talking sidekick companion and i will go to my grave believing that he’s the biggest part of yuu’s character and vice versa.

i also believe that canon yuu has a more integral part in the story beyond being an isekai protagonist and the one seeing disney movie visions + mickey. im just waiting on when we find out the real reasons yuu and grim are together.

hdhhfdhdhgd anyways you’re right i think yuu and grim are just neat. i am putting them in a jar and shaking them affectionately.

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Tend The Light | One-Shot

For the first time since being dragged into this hellscape… you finally had something to look forward to.

A chance encounter with your fellow survivor, Alan Wake, leads you to make an offer he can't refuse.

Pairing: DBD!Alan Wake/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Romance, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Smut, Infidelity

Notes: Hey guys! I recently finished Alan Wake 2 and I play him almost exclusively these days on Dead by Daylight, so I've become a little obsessed with him lol. I like that he's sad and just some dude suffering indefinitely. I also like that he tries to be a good person but still makes self-serving decisions that affect others, and just how introspective he is (though he gets in his own way). It doesn't help that Ilkka Villi is both attractive and an incredible performer and his voice actor, Matthew Porretta, is just so pleasant to listen to. ANYWAY, this is the first of many brain worms I've been infected with and is currently the only Alan Wake fic I've finished. Time will tell if any others fall out of my head. I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist Catalogue

--------------------

Do not take for granted daybreak’s warmth  For when the night comes, we must tend even to the light

The Entity’s Realm was not an easy place to get used to.

You had been there for a couple months, scrambling to escape the trials you were forced to endure with your many fellow survivors, failing far more often than not. But you were surprised by your own resilience, quickly discovering your strengths and weaknesses and doing your best to help those around you.

Even so, to make it in this world was exhausting, the trials almost near-constant. You felt like you barely had time to breathe before you were being sent to the next one, having to brace yourself for yet another fight for survival.

Today, however, you were given the precious gift of rest, and you were desperate to make the most of it. 

You started off by lounging around in the office building you and the other survivors made a home out of. It was amongst a cluster of city structures sharing a street, a seemingly endless fog surrounding the area, keeping you from wherever the killers might be stalking.

You were thankful for the separation outside of trials, but it did little to truly alleviate the horror of this new reality. Facing the deaths of your teammates and yourself everyday was a hell you couldn’t have come up with even in your worst nightmares.

You wanted to sleep, but you only felt tense. Getting up, you decided to find something to occupy yourself with while you waited for the next trial to pull you in.

You chatted for a bit with some of the other survivors, though they were eventually called on by the Entity, leaving you alone for a short time with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company. And dark thoughts they were, mostly a looping montage playing in your head of every death you had suffered in this place that just got longer and longer with each new one to occur.  

Now that was something you didn’t want to dwell on.

You decided it would be a good time to explore the area. You idly wished you could run off and find a way out of this place, but there wasn’t much use in fleeing. No matter how far you wandered, the Entity would always have you in its clutches.

You moseyed about for a while, first in the building you resided in and then in the surrounding ones. Every structure in the area was a corporate facility and they all seemed to look exactly the same, boring you quickly.

However, you reached the very top floor of the building across the street and realized there was a stairwell up to the roof; something the others didn’t possess.

Mildly enthralled by the revelation, you found yourself under a dark sky, night quickly falling overhead. You took a step toward the half wall that separated you from the sheer drop to the ground below but were startled when you realized someone else was already there.

Alan Wake, you recalled, thinking back to the brief introduction he gave you upon your arrival.

He seemed like a very kind man from what you could tell, but quite distant. Beyond helping in trials, he didn’t interact much with anyone except Saga and Rose, who had apparently joined him from their shared world.

He braced his elbows against the top of the wall, looking over his shoulder at you as you stood there awkwardly.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone would be up here. Hope I’m not disturbing you,” you told him. 

“Not at all. I don't own the place, you can stay here if you like.” He offered you a small quirk of his lips before turning his gaze back out over the horizon. His tall, lean form was stiff and his expression contemplative. 

Taking his words at face value, you approached his right side, keeping a couple of feet between you to give him space. You studied his profile from your peripheral vision, noting just how handsome he was, what with his long dark locks and big blue eyes, now slightly obscured by the furrow of his thick brows.

He seemed to glance your way and you were quick to avert your gaze, settling on the sky instead. You were surprised to see a smattering of stars decorating the night, a lovely window into the vast darkness beyond this horrid place.

“It’s beautiful…” you whispered, more to yourself than anything.

Alan followed your line of sight to the heavens. “Yeah, it really is.”

“I do wonder, though,” you started, half-facing him as you spoke, “is it even real? Or is it just another one of the Entity’s tricks?”

“Hard to know what’s real here,” he stated, “but I like to imagine it is. Seeing the actual sky gives me the hope that there’s somewhere beyond this place.”

“And maybe even a better chance of escaping.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, titling his head as he looked at you fully.

“If the sky isn’t under the Entity’s control, then maybe there are… I don’t know… holes in its design? Maybe even weak spots to exploit if we get lucky.”

He let out a quiet huff. “I see you’ve heard some of the conspiracy theories going around.”

You laid your cheek against your palm, supported by your elbow atop the concrete wall, looking at him with an amused grin. “You a nonbeliever then?”

“Anything’s possible, I guess. I just don’t think we should put all our eggs in one basket.”

“I don’t disagree, but as a working theory, it’s pretty solid. I mean, think of the fog. The Entity uses it to transport us not only around the Realm but from our worlds, right? There’s bound to be some wiggle room in between.”

He shook his head, chuckling lightly. It was a nice sound. “You make a compelling case, I admit. Were you a lawyer in your past life?”

You rolled your eyes at that. “No, no. Nothing so prestigious. What about you? You have an interesting career outside of this hellhole?”

He stared down at his hands, folded in front of him. “I was—or I am a writer. Did pretty well for myself before things fell apart. You know how it goes.”

You raised a brow. “Were you famous or something?”

He scratched his beard, looking almost diffident. “Uh, yeah, you could say that. But that was a long time ago. Saga and Rose are the only ones who really know that about me here. And, well, I guess now you do too.”

“Wow, I didn't realize I was in the presence of such a celebrity. How exciting.” Your voice was teasing, but you were being genuine, finding it quite enjoyable getting to know him.

“No pictures, please,” he joked, flashing you an easygoing smile. And what a nice one it was, the sight filling you with butterflies.

How had you never noticed just how attractive he was until now? You supposed survival was somewhat higher on your priority list up until this moment. He was quite a bit older than you as well, but that wasn’t much of a deterrent in your eyes.

You felt disappointed, however, when he rubbed his arm with his left hand and you caught the gleam of a golden wedding band on his finger.

Well, you could settle for friendship. It was the least you could hope for in a place like this, and you’d take what you could get.

You laughed airily at the quip before asking, “What genres did you write?”

“Horror and crime thrillers mostly.”

“Impressive. Stories like that aren’t the first ones I usually reach for, but I definitely enjoy them.”

“Yeah? What’s your preference?”

You were a bit surprised by his curiosity, not expecting him to be as willing to socialize as you currently were. You wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, however.

“It’s a bit embarrassing, but I’m more of a romance enthusiast. Though I’d say poetry is my favorite kind of writing above anything. I dabble in it myself, actually,” you admitted sheepishly.

“A poet, huh?”

“I know, it’s pretty pretentious,” you said with a laugh.

“No, not at all,” he assured. “What do you usually write about?”

“Hm… a little bit of everything, I suppose. It’s honestly a great way to express some difficult emotions in an abstract way. And there’s a fun challenge in figuring out how to structure it and whether to make it rhyme or not.”

“Not my personal strong suit, but I respect it. You publish anything?”

You shook your head. “No. I always thought about it. Even compiled all my work into a manuscript, but I never had the guts to.”

“Afraid to put yourself out there?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Got a mixed bag of insecurities, I guess. Fear of rejection and imposter syndrome are the most notable. But I think the hardest part is knowing I’d be baring my soul to the world. That kind of vulnerability… It's scary.”  

He nodded. “I understand what you mean. Once you show your face to the masses, there’s no going back. When I first started out, I really wanted the fame, you know? But I realized too late just how overwhelming it all was. It felt like…” he paused, trying to find the words. “It felt like I was drowning in it.”

“I could only imagine,” you mused solemnly. “Do you still write, though? Even if there’s not much of an audience to share it with?”

“Guess I could. But no. It’s been months since I’ve tried. Since I ended up here, actually.”

“Same here. Hard to find time or focus on creating something when we’re all being stretched thin by these damn trials. Not exactly high on the priority list.”

He chuckled at that. “That’s definitely part of it.”

You fell into an unexpectedly comfortable silence after that, the two of you returning your gazes to the sky. Your mind ran amok with questions you wanted to ask him, hoping to continue this pleasant exchange a little longer. Then an idea popped into your head.

“I have a… proposal for you,” you said, facing him again.

“And what’s that?”

“What if, over the next—oh, I don’t know—few days or so, we both write something brief that we can trade when we see each other again? How does that sound, Mr. Wake?”

“You can just call me Alan,” he replied with an amused laugh before considering your offer. “Something brief, you said? Would a short story work?”

“Yeah, of course. Write whatever’s most comfortable for you. Maybe no more than a couple pages? I’ll just whip up a poem on my end if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all. I like the idea. It sounds—”

“Fun?” you interjected with an impish smirk.

“Yeah, it sounds fun.” The smile he returned with was relaxed, a far cry from the clearly troubled man you normally witnessed him as.

For the first time since being dragged into this hellscape… you finally had something to look forward to.

***

The day arrived when you had a moment of respite, yet again visiting the roof of the building across the street.

You were buzzing with nerves, the realization that an actually published and well known author (in his world at least) would be reading your work hitting you like a brick to the face. But you felt good about what you had written, spending every moment of the last few days not in trials scribbling furiously in the notepad you had found. Fortunate to be surrounded by office supplies, you mused.

The poem itself was about your time here in the Realm, and all the pent up emotions that came with it. You ended it on a hopeful note, however, both for your own sanity and the fear that if you went too off the rails with what you felt, you’d somehow scare Alan off.

You waited for quite some time for him to meet you, the sky darkening like it had the night you first spent in his company. You were suddenly worried that maybe he forgot, or that he never intended to participate in this silly little exchange you came up with from the start.

Just as you were about to call it quits, disappointed thoroughly, the door to the stairwell burst open, Alan huffing as he jogged over to you.

“Sorry I took so long, I just got caught up in editing,” he told you breathlessly, leaning against the roof wall as he held out a notebook in his hand.

You were both relieved and giddy that he not only showed up, but clearly rushed over to meet with you. You had to hide your bashful smile as he stood to his full height, looking sheepishly down at you.

“It’s no problem. Just thought you got cold feet on me for a minute there.”

“No, nothing like that. I was pretty curious to see what you’d bring,” he replied earnestly. “And I wanted to know your thoughts on my own work.”

He seemed excited, and that had a warm feeling bloom within your chest.

“It might be a little too soon to think so highly of my opinion, Alan,” you said with a laugh.

“Then let’s not waste any time.”

He offered you his notebook, and you gave him your notepad in return.

“One thing I’d like to ask of you,” you started, feeling shy now that your hard work was in his hands.

“Sure, anything.”

“Could we check these out… later? The idea of you reading my poem right in front of me is a bit embarrassing.”

He chuckled at that. “I won’t judge you harshly, I promise. But yeah, we can just meet up again tomorrow if you’d prefer that.”

You let out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, I appreciate it. And I’m quite excited to dig into whatever you made. I’m sure it's great.”

“What did you just say? It’s a little too soon to think so highly of me?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Hey, you’re the famous one out of the two of us. Not exactly the biggest gamble there.”

“You never know. Plenty of shitty authors have a big following. The typical reader isn’t looking for a masterpiece.” He shrugged. 

“And neither am I,” you countered, giggling.

“Touché.”

Despite agreeing to meet again to talk about your prospective pieces, the two of you stayed on the roof for a couple hours longer, idle chatter turning a bit deeper as time waned on.

You shared the highlights of your life before, describing the night you were taken and what you had left behind. Who you missed more than anything.

Eventually, he told you an abridged version of his own life. Your heart broke for him as he explained he spent the last thirteen years—going on fourteen now—trapped in what he called the “Dark Place”, away from his wife. He tried desperately to escape and get back to her, but he only managed to swap one prison for another. A worse one, which was something he didn’t think was possible.

“So many years I could have spent with her… wasted.” He sighed heavily, and you could feel the weight of his experience just by looking into his tired eyes.

You ended the evening on that somber note, promising to meet again the next night.

As soon as you were alone, you opened his notebook, hunkered down in the corner of the conference room you made your home, eyes greedily taking in every line.

It was only three pages long and his handwriting was a bit messy, but it was really good. It seemed to be a horror retelling of The Scorpion and The Frog parable, and the way he crafted ambiance in every line—not wasting a single word to express exactly what he wanted to—was masterful. How he could make something so subtle yet so succinct was a mystery to you.

You felt both jealous of his ability and humbled by it. You almost regretted giving him your poem, believing it couldn’t possibly live up to his standards, but that would have meant you’d never have gotten to experience such a gem.

Your one critique, however, was this clear bitterness that seemed to permeate every sentence. You didn’t expect a happy little fairytale from the man, of course, but you would have loved to see more range in the expression of the characters at least.

You could barely sleep, not only going over what you wanted to discuss with Alan about his story, but battling with the abject fear of what he’d have to say about your poem.

You were even a little distracted the entirety of the following day, fumbling a bit more than usual in your trials and probably pissing off a few of your fellow survivors. But hey, everyone has had an off day at some point.

You could barely contain your nerves when the time finally came to regroup with Alan, rushing over to what was now officially your meeting spot.

He was already waiting for you when you arrived, leaning his lower back against the wall of the roof, facing the stairwell door. His eyes jumped up from your notepad in his hands as you approached, a warm smile on his face.

“Glad you made it,” he greeted, beckoning you over. “So… what’d you think?”

Amused by his eagerness, you went ahead and jumped right into it.

You explained to him your thoughts on his piece, though you tried not to let slip the true degree of your zeal for his talent while praising his strengths or sound too harsh while offering your criticism.

He looked thoughtful at your words, simply nodding as you finished your verbal annotation. “I’m glad to know you enjoyed it, and I appreciate the honesty.”

“Of course,” you replied. “I doubt my opinion holds too much weight, but I figured I’d offer it anyway.”

“Well, now that I’ve read your poem, I think I get to decide just how much weight your opinion holds,” he told you, a brow raised.

Your gut lurched a bit at that, apprehensive of just what he’d have to say about your talent as a writer. “And what did you decide?”

He stroked his beard thoughtfully, contemplating his words. “I think you have a knack for setting the tone you want to express, and your descriptions are so vivid, they’re almost tangible. I also think the way you’re able to show your emotions through the text is as impressive as it is relatable.”

Your eyes widened at his praise, completely shocked that he enjoyed your work so much. You sensed the pit of anxiety that once formed in your belly morph into butterflies. An elatedness coursed through you, making you feel like a teenager with a crush on her teacher, basking in his approval.

“My only real gripe is that you handhold your audience a bit. There seems to be a tendency to over explain yourself. I also think you could benefit from a little more subtlety,” he added, grounding you back in reality for a moment. “But I’m no publisher or poet, so take that with a grain of salt.”

You nodded, storing his words for later, your mind flitting over all the ways you could have changed your poem to make it better. “Thank you, that’s great to know. You’re the first person I’ve ever shown my writing to, so it’s nice to get an opinion outside of my own head.” 

“I’m the first? Really?” He seemed surprised by your confession, brows furrowing.

You nodded, feeling timorous yet again. “You know, beyond assignments from my school days. I’ve kept my poetry under lock and key for the most part.”

“And you were willing to show me?”

You chuckled lightly. “Well, you’re a famous writer, who better to get an appraisal from? Not to mention, I thought maybe this could help me get closer to you.”

You weren’t sure, but you could swear you saw a blush color his cheeks. His tone as he replied was self-effacing, however, “Not sure why you would want to. I’m just a lonely old man after all.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling a pang in your chest at his statement. “You’re not old, Alan.”

His lips quirked up into a small grin. “Well, I’m certainly getting there.”

Shaking your head, you looked down at the notebook in your hand, ready to return it to its owner. “Regardless, I was wondering if you still want to do this. Keep writing for each other, I mean.”

You practically prayed to whatever out there might listen that he would agree, not wanting to lose this friendship building between you. You never thought you’d find someone you were so intellectually compatible with in a place like this—or ever.

A selfish part of you wanted to see if this could bloom into something more despite him making it clear he still loved and missed his wife. You didn’t think you could stand giving up these late night rendezvous, talking into the small hours of the morning and getting to see the warmth of his smile and hear the sound of his deep laugh. If you could swim in those bright blue eyes, you would have already dove in.

What had gotten into you?

You braced for his answer, preparing for the deep-seated disappointment that would inevitably follow in the wake of his rejection.

“Yeah, I’d like that very much,” he answered instead. “I have to admit, writing for an audience again after a decade of only doing it for survival has been… nice. Sure, there’s freedom in it no longer being a necessity, but I had lost all motivation until you came along. This last week has been the most normal I’ve felt in years. Though… it might be selfish of me to want to hold on to it.”

Your heart raced in your chest, relief and an overwhelming joy filling you whole.

“I’m happy I could do that for you,” you told him earnestly. “And it’s not selfish at all. We should hold on to the few good things we have. Nothing wrong with that.”

He offered you a fond smile at your words, and you knew in that moment you would give anything to keep it gracing his handsome face.

“In any case,” he replied, voice soft, “thank you.”

“Maybe I should be thanking you for being so willing to play along with my silly game. I don’t think anyone else would have given me the time of day.”

He chuckled, placing his large hand on your shoulder and squeezing it gently, to your surprise. “Well, I look forward to what comes next.”

The contact was warm and sent you reeling despite how little it was.

The two of you then exchanged your notebooks once more and he retired for the night, leaving you to your own devices, your gaze following his tall form as he retreated to the stairwell.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and looked back up at the sky, stars still twinkling in the night. How strange it was that those constellations would remain painted in the heavens during your entire existence, and yet your life was just a stream of ceaseless change. Like a tide. Like the wind. Impermanent. 

You knew what you would write next.

***

You and Alan continued your little exchange over the next several weeks, the two of you growing closer with every evening spent in each other’s company. His gentle guidance in helping you hone your craft was appreciated greatly, and you could tell your work was improving.

Although you didn’t spend much time together outside of your allotted meetings, the two of you would still chat in passing, and it appeared like you were the first person Alan tried to help when you wound up together in trials.

You were happy that you had finally found a good friend here. 

However, your crush on the man was forming into full-blown feelings, which were getting harder and harder to ignore. Sometimes, in the quiet, intimate moments shared between you, you considered telling him the truth. But one glance at his wedding ring had you biting your tongue, yearning filling your days more than fear, it would seem.

You savored every conversation made under starlight, keeping all the easy banter and every dark confession locked away inside of you. The fact he was willing to confide in you, that he thought so highly of you and your opinion… you would never take it for granted. 

Tonight you brought with you a tin of stale butter cookies you found while scrounging in the area, wanting to indulge in this little treat with Alan. He deserved this small comfort after all.

“Hey, you,” he greeted affably as you came through the stairwell entrance, patting the spot beside him on the ground where he had placed a quilt he found a couple weeks prior. “What do you have there?”

You sat with crossed legs next to him, face heating up just by being in his proximity. You opened the tin and held it out to him. “Brought a snack for us to split.”

His eyes seemed to soften at your words, grabbing a cookie from the top. “Thank you. I appreciate you willing to share your treats with me. God knows they’re far and few between.”

You shrug, your gaze unable to meet his, feeling suddenly shy. “Least I could do for you taking pity on me,” you tease.

“And here I thought you were taking pity on me,” he replied with a chuckle, taking a bite out of the stale confection. He smiled at the taste, sighing in contentment as he leaned back on his hands, his legs stretched outward.

His reaction made you happy, warmth settling in your belly along with the treat. You glanced over at him, seeing a crumb stuck in his beard. You giggled, leaning over to pluck it from his hair.

“Saving some for later?” you joke as you flick it into the distance.

He looked abashed as he laughed awkwardly. “I promise I’m not usually this much of a slob,” he assured. “Maybe I should just shave the damn thing.”

“No!” you said far too quickly, your eyes widening at your own outburst.

“No?” he questioned, quirking a brow.

“Sorry, it’s just that I like the beard. Call me a sucker for facial hair,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Is that so?” He was clearly amused, making you let out a puff of air.

“What can I say? I like the rugged look.”

“What else are you a sucker for?” His voice dipped low, the rasp of it sending a tingle down your spine.

Was he messing with you? You couldn’t be sure, but the butterflies in your belly made it hard to think clearly, especially with the way he leveled his gaze on you.

“Pretty eyes,” you let slip. His surprise at your words emboldened you to elaborate, “You definitely have a pair of those. Like looking at a clear blue sky.”

He huffed out a laugh, the corners of those lovely eyes creasing as he grinned at you.

“Well, I think your best trait is your smile,” he told you. “You could light up a room with it.”

Your breath hitched at the compliment as he leaned closer.

“Speaking of, you have something…” he paused as he placed his large hand against your face, dragging his thumb delicately across the side of your mouth to clean it, “here.”

Your heart hammered in your chest at the contact, the man never having touched you like this before. The air suddenly shifted, thick with an unexpected tension. Breathlessly, you tried to alleviate it by joking, “Guess you’re not the only slob here.”

His thumb then began to stroke across your bottom lip almost experimentally, rendering you frozen in place.

“Seems we have a lot in common,” he replied, voice distant as he seemed to contemplate something.

You could see the way his eyes drifted between your own and your lips, the silence between you heavy with what might come next.

As if possessed, Alan rushed forward, moving his thumb from your mouth just as he kissed you.

It was firm but gentle, and there was an evident desperation clawing up and out of both of you as you finally jumped into action, returning the kiss with equal fervor.

This was all you had wanted since that very first night under the stars with him, unable to stop the whimper that escaped you as his tongue invaded your mouth. Both of his hands now cupped the sides of your face, and you gripped the lapels of his suit jacket for purchase, losing yourself in the moment completely.

Suddenly, Alan ripped away from you, scrambling backwards as if struck.

Your brows furrowed in confusion and concern, seeing the way he breathed hard and his eyes widened. Before you could speak, Alan jumped to his feet, holding the back of his head with his hands, evidently distressed.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, refusing to look at you before he turned, already retreating to the stairwell. “I—I’m sorry. Goodnight.”

“Alan!” you called, dismayed by the way he was hurrying off.

But he was already gone, leaving you alone with nothing but the sky for company. Tears pricked your eyes as you shuddered, the warmth from his touch now replaced with the chill of the night creeping back in.

You couldn’t stop the way your cries echoed in the dark.

***

A week passed, and every night you went back up to the roof, waiting.

He never came.

He avoided you in common areas and even in trials now, refusing to look you in the eye or speak to you.

Another week passed, and your visits to the roof dwindled to every couple of days.

Two more weeks passed, and you stopped going altogether.

You had felt heartache before, but this… this was different. The connection you had, the way your minds and bodies seemed to move in sync when you were together—even outside of the romantic longing you held for him, you had never experienced anything like it.  

Losing this nameless thing you shared with Alan felt like a void sitting inside of your chest, slowly eating away at you until eventually there would be nothing left.

And the kiss. Even a month after your separation, you still couldn’t get the sensation of his lips off your mind. You felt stupid for holding so tightly to something that never should have happened in the first place.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you decided to write.

After finishing the poem, agonizing over every detail, you went up to the roof one last time. You set the folded piece of paper on the quilt that was still laid out on the concrete, placing a heavy bookend you found on top of it to prevent it from blowing away.

If he had washed his hands of you without so much as giving you a chance to speak to him, you could at least tell him through pen on paper. He was a writer after all. That might be the only thing to make him understand.

The next day, though, you felt a sudden embarrassment for giving him even the slightest indication of how you felt, believing that he might not see the page if he stopped visiting the rooftop to avoid you anyway. Worse still was the thought of another survivor finding the poem, which was addressed to Alan and had your name written at the bottom.

When you had the chance to get away from the trials for the day, you snuck back up to the roof, desperate to grab the piece of paper you had left. You wanted to try your best to go back to the way things were before you ever stumbled upon Alan in the first place.

Your heart halted in your chest, however, when you stepped through the stairwell door.

Alan was there, leaning against the edge of the roof wall, staring out at the darkening horizon just like the night that started it all.

You were frozen in place, simply standing there, questioning if you were imagining things for a second. Before you could pull yourself together and spin on your heels to escape, Alan had turned around, the soft call of your name from his lips making you pause.

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, unable to even speak as he beckoned you over to him.

“Please…” he said, voice tight. “We need to talk.”

Hesitantly, you nodded, joining him by the wall. It was silent for a long while and he seemed to be avoiding your gaze. You wondered what he could be thinking.

Slowly, he pulled a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and your stomach dropped when you realized what it was.

“I read it,” he confirmed, “and it got me thinking.”

You felt a surge of panic at that, terrified that he was about to rub salt in the wound—tell you how little you truly meant to him in the weeks you spent in each other’s company.

“I shouldn’t have left it here, I’m sorry,” you said quickly, finally able to get words out of your mouth.

“No, no, don’t be,” he urged, glancing down at you, “I’m glad you did.” His eyes moved away from you again, looking pained as he quietly added, “I’m sorry for how I handled things. It wasn’t fair to you.” 

An apology. It wasn’t something you really thought would be said in this moment, but you could tell it was genuine—if the anguished, deep frown marring his face was any indication. 

“I appreciate it,” you told him. “And for what it’s worth… I’m sorry too.”

His eyes were wide when they met yours. “What are you apologizing for? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

You swallowed thickly, dropping your head. “For wanting you even when I knew I shouldn’t.”

Glancing up at him from your peripherals, your shame apparent, you could see the way his expression softened. 

“There’s something I want to tell you,” he started, “and I would like for you to just listen.”

You turned to him and simply nodded, watching as he sighed deeply and placed his elbows atop the wall, staring at his hands in contemplation.

“All these years, wandering in the dark… the only thing that pushed me through was the thought of Alice and getting home to her.” As he spoke, you felt your heart sink into your gut, both in guilt and the renewed heartbreak of believing he was about to end things between you for good.

Still, you remained quiet.

He continued, “Despite the hopelessness of it all, I felt some sense of control in the Dark Place. My writing could affect reality, and that meant that if I just wrote the right thing, I could get out. But here… it’s different. The rules are different. My writing has no effect, and when I first arrived… I just panicked.”

He sighed again, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms as if to wipe away the vision of all the years he believed had been wasted. “The change—it made me feel like I was losing the very last of my hope. That I’d never make it out of this alive.” He paused to look down at you, that blue gaze reflecting his misery like the surface of water. “If I lose it, this stubborn thing that’s pushed me through thirteen years of madness and terror and the drowning loneliness… what would I have left?”

You could feel tears welling in your eyes, his sadness palpable.

He let out a shaky breath and a soft chuckle, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “Meeting you, spending time with you—it reminded me of better days. It reminded me that there is still hope, still a flicker of light in all this darkness. I think, in many ways, you may have saved me from throwing in the towel completely. It was hard not to be drawn to you because of that.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his words, the warmth of them settling upon you like a blanket. It may not change the outcome of this night—he may still choose to keep his distance—but now you knew the truth. You meant something to him too.

“But,” he started, “giving in to the temptation of pursuing you… It was an admission that being trapped here might be a more long term situation than I wanted to believe. The kiss—of course it felt like betraying Alice, but what it meant was somehow worse. It felt like I was giving up on her. On getting back to her.”

His brows furrowed. “After a few years, I began to wonder, you know? Wonder if she had moved on in my absence. She had every reason to believe I was dead, and each passing year must have been like tossing more dirt on my empty grave.”

You regarded him morosely, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he took another shuddering breath, running his hand through his hair the way he always did when he was particularly distressed. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but you refrained. 

“If she’s moved on, I understand. The thought stings, but I would forgive her. I’ve made my peace with that.” A beat. Another breath. “Since meeting you, though, I began to wonder about something else.”

His eyes were swirling with the shadows of his grief, like souls caught in the river Styx. Perhaps you were caught now too.

“If she knew of my circumstances… would she give me that same grace?” he asked. “And even if she did, could I forgive myself for letting her go?”

He fell silent then, gaze cast down as you took in every word. The heaviness of his confession weighed on him like gravity, and you wanted to help him carry the burden of it. His feelings for you were the cause of this after all. You couldn’t help but consider yourself partially responsible, even if he adamantly denied it.

“Regret…” you began, choosing your words carefully, “is a starved thing. You don’t have to let it eat at you.”

He looked at you quizzically at that, the slight tilt of his head the only indication you needed to continue. “Thirteen years is a long time, Alan. I know how tired you are. You’re sick of fighting.”

“Are you saying I should just give up on ever going home then?” he questioned, an edge to his tone.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head, “don’t give up. None of us should.”

“Then… what are you saying?”

“Let yourself have this.” Your voice was low, gentle. “You wonder if Alice would give you the grace to accept comfort where it can be found, but why don’t you give yourself that grace? You know better than anyone how hard it is to come by in a place like this.”

He let out a puff of laughter, though there was no real humor in it. “I just wish I knew what she’d think. If she’d hate me for it.”

“I know I’m biased in this situation,” you told him honestly, “but I think Alice would understand.”

His lips parted, momentarily stunned, before he moved closer to you, his eyes full of hope as he placed his hand tentatively against your cheek. His palm was warm, a welcome feeling in the cold air.

“As much as I want this,” he whispered, “I don’t know how much of myself I can give to you. Alice… I am wholly hers.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a pang of disappointment and jealousy carving into your heart knowing that she would always come first. Knowing that if the two of you ever did escape, he would be going home to her and not with you.

You released a breath, letting the feeling wash over and off of you. There was no use in worrying about the future now. You had to live in this moment. It was all that mattered.

“I know,” you replied. “I accept that. Whatever this is, it doesn’t need a name—it doesn’t need to be a promise. I’m just here for you if you need me.”

The tension between you was thick, the yearning in his expression making your heart race.

“Okay,” he murmured, yet made no move to close the remaining distance between you.

“Alan,” you coaxed, bringing your hands up to cup his face, “would you feel better if I kissed you first?”

He closed his eyes, swallowing thickly as he moved to grip your wrists. He kept your hands firmly planted against his cheeks, looking as if he was basking in your warmth.

“I’m not sure,” he replied candidly, though his voice was soft, “but we can try.”

You smiled at that, pulling him down as you stood on your toes to make up the difference, your lips pressing into his. It was chaste and sweet, more of an invitation than anything.

When you pulled back to gauge his reaction, his eyes were opened, half-lidded, and dark.

Suddenly, his hands moved from around your wrists to tangle into your hair, pulling you back to him and kissing you deeply. It was as passionate and desperate as that very first one, but this time there was no holding back.

His tongue pressed against the seam of your mouth and you easily opened up to him, craving nothing more than to devour and be devoured.

If regret was starved, then what did that make want? Perhaps it was a forest fire or a black hole—all-consuming. 

Before you could react, Alan grabbed you by the hips, pulling you up with surprising strength to seat you on the wall. Out of instinct you wrapped your legs around his waist and clutched his shoulders, separating your lips from his as a gasp of fear left your mouth at the thought of dropping down, down, down to the concrete far below.

His wide palms braced against your spine, holding you close to him as he looked at you, a playful smirk gracing his handsome face. He leaned forward to kiss the line of your jaw, the hair of his beard tickling your skin, before he whispered, “I won’t let you fall. Trust me?”

The deep rasp of his voice was your siren’s call, your body and mind helpless to the way they were drawn to this man standing between your legs.

“Yes, I trust you, Alan. Always,” you replied, voice small but undeniable in its conviction.

He let out a wavering sigh into the flesh of your throat, your words having had an effect on him. He withdrew from the crook of your neck to smash his mouth against yours once again as you ran your fingers through his dark, thick locks, combing them gently out of his face. You shivered as his hand crawled underneath your shirt, callused skin scraping deliciously against your side.

You pulled away for a breath then, your lips swollen from the barrage of forceful kisses.

“Alan,” you breathed, his eyes opening at the sound, “how far are we taking this?”

He paused, pressing a kiss against your cheek as he considered his response. “It’s been a long time since… well, you know,” he said, letting out a low chuckle. “But I want this—want you—if you’ll have me.”

The words emboldened you and you tugged his face forward to give him another searing kiss on the mouth, desire coursing through your veins like your own blood.

“Need you,” you murmured against his lips, what little self-control you might have had draining out of you as though a stopper had been prised from the inside.

His breath hitched at your reply, and he gave you a final, hard kiss before pulling away.

“Not here,” he said, voice like smoke. 

He helped you back onto solid ground then, grabbing your hand to lead you to the quilt stretched across the floor. Between sweltering crashes of your lips, the two of you ripped off your shoes and you laid atop the blanket, which was folded over and thick enough to cushion you a bit from the harsh, cold concrete under you. Alan dropped to his knees to follow you down, crawling over your supine form.

You reached out to touch him, yanking off his jacket and tie. Afterward, you unbuttoned the dark blue shirt beneath, relishing in every inch of his toned chest and abdomen exposed to you.

Alan let out a guttural noise as he pulled off your top and released your breasts from your bra, cupping them in his hands. His fingers were firm as they pressed into the flesh there before rolling your nipples between them, eliciting a wanton sigh from you.

“My little poet,” he spoke on the crest of an exhale, bringing his lips down to your chest to kiss and nip at the skin there, “you are so fucking beautiful.”

Despite the desperation vibrating through your every cell, it was clear that Alan wanted to take his time; wanted to soak in the feel of you and the sounds of pleasure he pulled from your mouth. He wanted to savor this moment. Savor you.

His hands and his lips traveled down your body until his fingers slid into the sides of your jeans, peeling them slowly off of your legs along with your panties. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he stared at your exposed heat, dark blue eyes filled with hunger.

He fell back over you, supporting himself on one arm as his hand lowered slowly, watching your face as he grazed his fingertips along your slit. You were already breathless from the intensity of his gaze upon you, the small gasp you let out at his touch making you nearly dizzy.

He teased you for a while, biting his bottom lip as he took in your every noise and expression, the sight of his teeth pressing into the skin the most erotic thing you thought you’d ever seen.

“Please…” you mewled pathetically, needing him to take this that little bit further before you went mad.

He smirked down at you, lowering his head to rasp into your ear, “Please what?”

You let out a huff, equal parts a laugh and a frustrated sigh. “Please give me more,” you replied, hoping your words satisfied him.

He grinned at your begging before kissing you hard, pulling back just as he sunk his fingers into your already soaked entrance. You cried out at the intrusion, the delicious stretch of his two digits making you paw at the quilt beneath you for purchase.

“That’s it…” he cooed, tone both teasing and fervid, “I want to hear how good I make you feel.” 

A clever stroke of his thumb made you keen loudly, back arching. Your eyes screwed shut, feeling yourself getting nearer to the edge with every stroke of his fingers.

“I’m close, Alan,” you whined, your body beginning to tremble.

To your dismay, however, Alan stopped completely, pulling his fingers from your heat. You let out a complaintive groan and Alan chuckled, capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

“Not yet,” he said lowly, pulling back, “I want to be inside you when you come.” 

Your breath hitched as he licked his fingers clean of you, clearly enjoying the taste, before sitting on his haunches. He reached down, undoing the belt on his slacks, slowly unzipping them and tugging them down far enough to release his hardened length.

You bit your lip at the sight of it, appreciating its size. Alan moved to hover over you again, tracing his nose along your cheek as he lined himself up with your entrance. Just the feel of him pressing against you had you swallowing in an anticipation so blazing, it made your skin flush.

“You still want this?” he asked in a whisper. “Because there’s no going back.”

You grabbed the sides of his face, making him look at you, “Do you?”

You could see the storm in his eyes—cyclones of azure blue—so disquieted, yet so full of hunger.

“Yes,” he murmured, searching your visage as if to find your answer there.

“Then I do too.”

A ghost of a smile danced across his features before he was kissing you again, almost bruising in its vigor. He pulled away just enough to watch your face when he pushed forward, slowly sinking into you with a shaky exhale. You gasped at the stretch of him and your head lurched up slightly, your open mouth breathing heavily into his.

He closed his eyes as he buried himself to the hilt, opening them only to stare into yours and utter, “God, you feel incredible.”

You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours, but you joined together like you were made for him. Like a final puzzle piece slotting into place. You had never felt so whole. 

You knew then you would be ruined for anyone else.

He caged your head between his arms and your hands dropped from his face to the back of his neck, just as he drew his hips back and thrusted forward again; slow and deliberate.

He kept this measured pace, his length dragging against your inner walls in a rhythm both excruciating and exquisite. If it wasn’t him, you would have begged for it to be faster and harder by now. But you knew how precious your time could be—knew that this might be your last and only moment in his embrace—and you wanted to enjoy it. The sounds you let escape from your mouth were just sighs of pleasure, your fingers grasping at his skin and hair in desperation.

He hitched your legs over his waist, lowering his body to press against yours, his hands sliding under your head to cradle it like it was porcelain. His nose brushed against yours, his gaze so intense, you could feel it burning through you.

“What have you done to me?” he rasped, his hot breath billowing across your flesh.

You let out an airy laugh at his words, replying, “Nothing you haven’t done to me.”

He smoothed a thumb against your cheek, his lips quirking into a small smile that you could feel when he kissed you again.

He began to quicken his pace, his thrusts firmer—deeper. You moaned into his mouth and he only grunted in response, slipping a hand between you to rub circles against the most sensitive part of you.

“Alan,” you breathed, digging your fingers further into his hair, panting between every heated kiss, “I’m so close.”

He drew back, voice rough like sandpaper as he demanded, “Then come for me, sweetheart.”

He held you nearer and your eyes screwed shut, overwhelmed by all of the sensations, your nerves ablaze.

“Look at me.” The command was spoken softly, but it left no room for argument, his free hand sliding down to grip your jaw. When you peered back up at him, the sight of his intense gaze—blue irises swallowed by the black of his pupils—left you gasping for air.

It took only a couple more strokes of his length before you were coming undone beneath him. Your back arched and your eyes watered both from forcing them to stay open for him and the ferocity of your climax.

You cried out his name as he worked you through your high, growling, “That’s it, sweet girl.”

His grip tightened on you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he drew closer and closer to the edge. He captured your lips in a fervent kiss, a low moan spilling into your mouth as he came, warmth flooding into your depths.

He melted into you then, letting out a shaky exhale as he pressed his sweaty forehead against your own while the two of you caught your breath. His hands caressed your hair, and he let out a contented sigh before drawing back to look at you.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, a softness in his gaze that still managed to make your heart skip a beat, even after everything.

He told you he wouldn’t let you fall, but didn’t he know? You already had.

“I’m more than okay,” you replied, tone wispy and teasing.

He grinned down at you, eyes crinkling at the edges, before kissing you again. This one was different, though; far more languid than the fever that had just consumed you both. So tender, it left you aching for more when he finally pulled away.

Carefully, he removed himself from you, the two of you hissing at the feeling. He zipped his slacks back up before laying beside you, tugging you into his arms.

“Here, let me keep you warm,” he said, feeling you shiver now that you were exposed to the chill of the night air.

You let out a quiet giggle as you rested your head upon his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat beginning to slow to a steady, soothing rhythm. Every sensation you felt in this moment was a reminder that this was real; that you weren’t alone anymore.

A comfortable silence fell over you, simply breathing together in the dark. In a small voice, you couldn’t help but wonder aloud, “What comes next?”

“I don’t know,” he responded honestly. You felt him kiss your hair, arms squeezing just a little tighter around you. “But what I do know is that I want you here with me. Whether that’s just tonight… or the rest of eternity spent in this hell.”

You ran a hand across his bare chest, smiling while you turned to look up at the sky above. The stars seemed closer somehow, as if you could reach out and pluck one from the heavens like a diamond from its velvet display.

You faced Alan once more, propping yourself on your elbow, “Then I suppose we should make every second count.”

He reached out to graze his knuckles against your cheek, a flood of emotions filling you both as you looked at each other. He tugged you toward him, kissing you, all the things he couldn’t seem to say bleeding into every movement of his lips.

He finally drew back, eyes pulling you in like whirlpools as he murmured, “I intend to.”

When you fell into him once more, bodies molding together, you failed to notice that the piece of paper folded neatly and tucked into Alan’s jacket pocket had come loose, sitting upon the concrete.

A breeze swept across the roof and caught it, blowing it off into the night. It wouldn’t be until the next morning that either of you would realize it was gone, a minor disappointment shrugged off and soon forgotten as you kissed under sunlight for the first time.

If anyone were to come across the page, however, curious as they pulled it open, the words that might greet them would read:

I was a shadow in the times before But when I met you, something sparked A flicker became a burst, became a wildfire And the breadth between us contained entire galaxies  An entanglement of a million stars heating up inside of me When our lips met, every sun erupted into a supernova And I knew what it meant to feel warmth  Your absence is a black hole  The cold it leaves in its wake settles bone deep Your faraway gaze betrays the ghost that now takes your shape And your pain is a sacrificial dagger Thirsting for a little more of your blood I can share in your darkness if you let me Harden every molten spill that lingers between us Let our dreams be dreams in such a nightmare But know this: If ever you turn to me, the glittering constellations in your eyes renewed I will always be here, Tending to the very light you once gave me  I will remind you of what it means to feel warmth

--------------------

Masterlist Catalogue

[wen-kexing-apologist]

I Am Perfectly Normal About Step by Step Episode 7

Sighs. 

Dear readers, I do not have time for this. I have trainings to make, I have shows to catch up on, I have practice to go to. But alas

Here I am 

Once again 

Overanalyzing the fuck out of the body language in my silly little gay Thai shows. 

Because the BODY LANGUAGE in this episode??????????? HELLO?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!

GOD! Jeng and Pat’s interactions are putting worms in my brain. ALRIGHT, LET’S BEGIN

First off: 

Jeng 

When Jaab calls Jeng to accuse him of secretly dating Pat, Jeng immediately starts closing himself off, because he may not currently be secretly dating Pat, but Jeng is head over heels obsessed with Pat already and is trying to hide his feelings, from his brother and from himself by placing his arm across his chest and slouching to hide himself a little better. But of course, he is incapable of truly hiding his feelings for Pat because his whole apartment is BLUE which is Pat’s color. 

And Jeng is nervous, like he knows that he has feelings for Pat, and now he knows that his feelings are obvious enough to his baby brother who is friends with his crush and if his brother knows, then who else knows? Jeng is constantly moving in this scene, he is folding and then unfolding his arms, he is turning forward and then backward, he is pacing!!

When Jeng gets the news from Jaab that Pat is dating someone, his back is turned to the camera. He is facing Pat’s color, but he is in the final stages of trying to hide his feelings by giving the audience nothing but the nervous scratching of his neck to read. 

Until he sinks under the weight of the news that Pat is taken, at which point he sits down on his desk and then his nervous energy is transferred to his fingers, which are fidgeting as he considers whether or not to ask Jaab “Who is Pat seeing?”

Edit: peace, love, and my firstborn to @respectthepetty who has granted me a gif of Mr. Fidget

But he freezes, only shifting the grip he has on his phone while he waits for Jaab’s answer. After Jaab replies Jeng is constantly moving some part of his body: his arm, and then his torso as he takes a deep breath, and then his head as he looks down. 

Jeng, Pat, Put Round One: 

It does not take long for Jeng to figure out who the secret boyfriend is, because Jeng is totally platonically interested in Pat’s life, Jeng is in fact ~completely normal~ about this man. Jeng certainly would never see Put’s wallet, after already having one subtle “he’d not interested in you anymore” at the aquarium with Put, and immediately put the pieces together.

gif from @earthpirapat

Nor would he spend his work hours sulking because he sees Put and Pat flirting with each other...

gif from @earthpirapat

And he 100% most definitely would not need to be physically pulled away from Pat by his brother, because seeing Pat and Put together has made Jeng forget all workplace decorum, and Jeng, who has been unaware of how far over the line he has actually crossed with Pat over the last few episode, is now no longer capable of hiding his intentions while in a workplace setting. 

Especially not when he is wearing a light blue button up shirt, because he’s trying to be neutral but his feelings for Pat are still seeping through. 

This is less a body language note, and more a body placement note, but Pat is positionally closer to Jeng than he is to Put in this scene. 

Put and Pat

With the flirting we get between Put and Pat during the interview, we can see how they might work together as a couple. There is some illusion at least of playfulness and familiarity, they are feeling strongly enough towards each other that they aren’t capable of being 100% professional during that shoot (and neither is Jeng) because he’s too busy looking like a kicked puppy. 

But when we return to Pat’s home, where he and Put are sharing a meal, suddenly the vibe is very different. 

The lighting is dark and white and cold, with a hint of warmth from the lamp in the corner behind Pat, Pat who spends the first part of the meal smiley and trying to engage Put in conversation. But Put is too busy on his phone to pay much attention. In fact, for the entire time that Put and Pat are eating together they do not make eye contact. Only after Pat says that he is full and tries to leave the table, does Put meet his eye. 

This is starkly different than when Pat and Jeng are in the kitchen together: 

gif from @smittenskitten

Here the lighting is bright and warm, golden and more natural in feeling, and Jeng and Pat dedicate too much time to eye contact. Drawn to one another, rather than trying to pick up a connection that was lost years ago. 

The incompatibility continues when Pat has his breakdown on the commercial set. We saw in the earlier dinner scene that Pat is sensitive and that Put, like Jeng, is capable of hurting Pat’s feelings. However, Put only comforts Pat when he himself has made an inappropriate/slightly mean comment about the noodles Pat made, knowing that he fucked up. When the going gets tough, and Pat succumbs to intentional external aggression from Chris’ mom, only Chot reaches out to comfort Pat.

Put won’t even look Pat in the eye. 

Pat runs off to have a #hotgirlmeltdown behind a trailer and Jeng shows up. And this is where I start to go feral, because the HANDS the BODY LANGUAGE the way Jeng is constantly trying to keep himself in check. The way he starts to reach out to take Pat’s wrist, and then immediately pulls his arm back, because he knows that is not an appropriate touch between a boss and an employee. Between Yutaka’s split second reach for Minoru’s hand and Jeng’s split second reach for Pat’s hand I am being personally victimized by the gay yearning of fictional Asian men. 

gif by @pharawee

Jeng looks at Pat approximately a thousand times, trying to figure out what to do, his body making all these little movements like he keeps considering whether or not he should touch Pat, if he can comfort Pat, how he can comfort Pat. 

And Pat leaves him no choice, Pat and Jeng are hidden behind a trailer away from the eyes of the rest of the office, and Pat is too distraught to be thinking about appropriate workplace decorum, and instead seeks comfort from a person who he has feelings for, who has made him feel valued, and supported, and listened to in a way that no one else really has. 

gif from @pharawee

And again, the body language, especially from Man is exquisite here. Jeng is stiff, he doesn’t initially relax into the hug, again his brain catches up to his heart, and he starts to reach out to complete the hug, to touch Pat’s shoulder or arm, and again he stops himself. Jeng’s initial response to this hug is handled in such a way that someone walking by would not read the encounter as romantic. The first few moments of this hug are truly just Pat needing comfort, and his boss being the only person around.

But as Pat continues to cry, Jeng gives in. He finally touches Pat and the second that he completes the hug, the second that his hand makes contact with Pat’s arm, it’s over. There is no more plausible deniability. This is an extremely unprofessional hug, this is a “oh no the boy I like is sad and I must comfort him” hug. Because Jeng makes contact with Pat’s arm and then leans his head down to rest his chin on Pat’s head. 

gif from @pharawee

And it does not leave until Pat finally calms down and breaks the hug. 

So, here’s the thing, it’s not entirely Put’s fault. Like, when Put is being attentive to Pat it seems to go well (the tickling scene from earlier) but his priority is work, and his priority has always been work. Put can’t be seen getting too comfortable with people, on set Put can’t really engage in the behaviors a boyfriend would, Put is still at the will of his manager. But Put left Pat last time in part to pursue a career, and those same things that pulled them apart last time have not gone away. 

Whether Pat realizes it at the moment (and I don’t think he does) getting back together with Put is a last ditch, desperate attempt to try to channel his feelings for Jeng somewhere else. At one point he used to love Put, at one point he and Put seemed to really work together, he can have fun with Put, he and Put know each other, Put is more comfortable with his sexuality now. It could be easy, it could be easy to forget his feelings for Jeng, it could be easy to find the feelings he once had for Put. 

But…

And to Put’s credit, he is extremely forgiving and patient, he says they can take it slow. The whole time they were interspersing teasing with kissing with talking Put and Pat are constantly touching each other, stroking their thumb along a shoulder, running their fingers through each other’s hair. They are comforting touches, they are familiar touches. They are touches that Pat can’t get from Jeng. 

But it doesn’t feel the same, and they both know it, and where Put seems willing to give it time, I think there is a part of him that knows this is not going to work out. Pat is too in love with Jeng. I want to shout out the post by @chicademartinica because it analyzes the use of barriers as a way of showing that Put is trapped outside of Pat’s world. 

So Pat goes to the party, and he drinks and he drinks, and he drinks, and he drinks because it is easier to get drunk and forget that he can’t ignore his feelings for Jeng, and so that he could, as @shortpplfedup so aptly identified in conversation, have some deniability. 

Pat goes to the party and before long he is sitting next to Jeng. Because Pat is also not able to control himself as much as he should. To my mind, Pat is his usual amount of light hearted tease with Jeng, making digs at his breakdown, trying to rope Jeng in to singing karaoke with him, etc. but Jeng, who is at least a glass of wine in, if not more, is uh…much much much more obvious then he usually is. 

Listen, I know what you are all going to say when you read the next sentence, but you know what I mean. Man is a physicality beast. He is an expert in knowing where and how to place macro and micro expressions. He knows when Jeng is supposed to read awkward and stiff, he knows when Jeng is supposed to read comfortable and relaxed. I am struck, watching this couch scene, by how many times Jeng looks out the corner of his eye in Pat’s direction without ever turning his head to face him, when Pat leans in to suggest they sing karaoke together. 

When he turns to face Pat, he is only able to keep his eyes on him for a second at a time, he keeps turning his head almost 180* in the opposite direction every few seconds, changing his body position, smiling, Jeng literally cannot help himself. He’s already had to rein himself in once, almost making a comment about Pat that would not have been work appropriate. 

Pat gets drunker, Pat in fact gets obviously drunker, but we aren’t really certain where Jeng lies in his inebriation levels. Which is fun because that means we get to decide if he is looking at Pat and saying “I will still be there” SO SINCERELY because he is also buzzed/tipsy/drunk and therefore no longer fast enough to stop his mouth. Or if he is deciding to be bold because he knows that Pat and Put are together and he wants to show Pat he is interested. Or if he thinks that Pat will have a repeat of last time, and blackout and not remember everything that Jeng has said. 

It is harder to tell on Jeng than on Pat, but I am pretty sure that Jeng’s cheeks are at least a little flushed, and let’s be real 

gif from @junghaesin

This man is under the influence. Of what? Alcohol? Love? Doesn’t matter, Jeng has gone full Heart Eyes, Motherfucker at the work function. Rest in peace to everyone, and especially Chot who is going to have to deal with their stupid, sorry, gay asses. 

Pat continues to drink, and then, OOP: 

gif from @smittenskitten

Jeng has an excuse to take Pat’s wrist, plausible deniability “I was trying to stop him from drinking more” but honey, that hand stays on the wrist for way longer than #justcoworkers should touch. 

And then Pat chugs the rest of it, and Jeng tries to stop him, and he freezes and for just a second, Pat’s wrist once again passes across Jeng’s fingertips. This time, just brushing together as Pat moves his glass back to the table.

gif from @smittenskitten

Moving on to my absolute favorite part of the entire episode. THE SHIRT SCENE. Yes, I know this scene is probably more accurately referred to as The Grass Jelly scene or the Drunken Hallway Conversation scene but I DO NOT CARE. I DON’T CARE WHAT IS MORE ACCURATE, I DON’T CARE WHAT IS MORE APPROPRIATE, ALL I CARE ABOUT IS THIS:

gif from @earthpirapat

“Mr. Jeng can make grass jelly” Pat says, drunkenly, as he tugs at Jeng’s shirt with enough unsteady force to knock them both back into the wall. You can see the top of this man’s boxers. Does Jeng seem bothered by it? No. Does Jeng seem angry about it? No. Does Jeng try to switch drunken men to support when Pat starts being overly familiar with his tank top? No. 

What does he do? 

HE. LOOKS. DOWN. 

He does not protest. Pat’s faculties are gone and all that is left is Pat’s affection for Jeng. He wants to eat grass jelly because that is a food he associates with Jeng. (Let’s be real here, Pat doesn’t want to eat grass jelly, Pat wants to eat Jeng). Pat plays with Jeng’s shirt because he can’t help but touch Jeng. 

To be completely honest with you, whatever the implications of the grass jelly are, whatever the implications of Jeng just watching this happen, dead fucking silent, I don’t care. I care about how comfortable and familiar it is, and they aren’t even together yet. I don’t care how much sexual tension is acting as an undercurrent to that interaction, I simply think this is so goddamn fucking cute! 

As for the rest of the drunk man shuffle, the benefit of having a Certified Tol Boi like Man, is that Jeng can hold Pat’s hand and cup his chest without it inherently coming off as inappropriate to outsiders, because he is so tall that only Pat’s wrist is really the only thing that can sit somewhere on Jeng’s shoulder that Jeng can grab. Jeng simply must hold Pat’s wrist and/or hand, and he’s slipping more towards Pat’s hand. Convenient. 

This is less a body language analysis and more a “in case you didn’t notice because I did not notice at first and @shortpplfedup had to tell me” JENG TAKES OFF PAT’S SHOES. 

Between this and the t-shirt grab, my brain just wants to spin and spin and spin towards all the domesticity they could have if they were allowed to be a couple right now. 

And now, dear readers, I am coming to a close. If you have gotten this far, again I marvel because, holy shit this is literally so long, and for what? 

So I will end with this, Jeng is a goner, and we’re heading towards the break in the dam. Jeng and Pat have tried to keep their feelings for each other at bay. Jeng has tried to be professional about this, Pat has explicitly made an effort Not To Date His Boss. They have failed. Pat failed the moment he stopped kissing Put, and he failed again the moment he grabbed Jeng’s shirt. (and also a bunch more times, see: eating together before he knew who Jeng was, see: furniture shopping, see: putting on the chef’s hat, see: watching fireworks together). Jeng has been failing the entire goddamn time. God he tried so hard in the beginning, when he learned Pat was going to be his employee, he pulled back initially, he gave critiques, he did not play favorites, but it did not take long for Jeng to come up with more and more excuses for why something was work appropriate. “Oh you won’t have time to go home before the gala, just shower at my place”, “Oh, I’m only available on Sunday for a meeting, just come to my place”, “Oh, I didn’t know where you lived so I let you sleep at my place,”, “Oh, the rooms weren’t booked properly, why don’t you share my place?”

But where are we at the end of Episode 7?

Jeng is, in the light of day, with his employees milling about the room, looking Pat in the face and saying that the video of him drunk is, and I quote “pretty cute.” which means, by extension, Jeng is calling drunk!Pat “pretty cute”, which means that, by extension, Jeng is calling Pat “pretty cute”. Narak indeed, Jeng, narak indeed. So, all caution has been thrown to the wind, Jeng is over trying to be professional, it’s time to officially enter Jeng’s “I Lost Focus and Had A Consensual Workplace Relationship” Era. 

[theyanderespecialist]

Base Yandere Stu (Aka Ghostface) Headcanons: Mind Manipulation  (Scream)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back with another Chapter, this one has to do with Stu from The First Scream as he was one of the Ghostface from the movie! Also for those who do not know the actor was the voice actor for Shaggy in a lot of Scooby-Doo movies, and was the two live movies Shaggy and the best part! He also was William Afton from the FNAF movie! Other than my simping lmao, let's do this!

(Disclaimer: Stu AKA Ghostface is not Yandere in canon! This is Just For Fun and NOT to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are Not ideal partners to have in real life. Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! Thank You!

Disclaimer 2: IN THIS HE IS AGED UP TO 18 or 19 THANK YOU!!!)

Now please enjoy this Chapter Here]

-Base Yandere Headcanons With Stu From Scream-

.Stu appears at first to be a normal and slightly dimwitted man.

.He is way much more than that though, he is absolutely psychotic!

.He is one of the two Slashers known as Ghostface.

.He had no real motive to become Ghostface but took advantage of doing it to kill his ex-girlfriend and her current boyfriend.

.With him wanting to be with you as he is obsessed with you at first sight.

.So he takes advantage of being a slasher to kill anyone interested in you.

.This was not his plan but he did love that he could use it to his advantage!

.He is way smarter than he appeared.

.Using his brains to plot and scheme a way to make you, his, and his alone.

.He is also sadistic so he would take great glee in seeing you panic and being afraid!

.He would also use this to manipulate you and make you think he is the only one who can keep you safe and sound.

.He is a yandere who is sadistic and has thought of many ways to brutally kill his rivals!

.He takes great enjoyment in it and is incredibly cruel, mentally toying with his rivals until he kills them and mocks them for how pathetic they are, and how unworthy they are of you.

.One of his favorite pastimes is to watch horror movies with you, snuggling with you on the couch as you watch scary movies together.

.He is sweet and joking and laid back with you

.While is very much yandere side can be cruel, sadistic, and cold-blooded.

.A very classic yandere trait I would say, he appears innocent and normal but then has a murderous side that is unfeeling to most things.

.Which makes his obsession for you. To feel like true love, making all the choices he makes part of a much greater plan!

.As he has manipulated you into trusting him and making you think you are only safe with him, he uses this when he does confess to you. 

.Confessing to you, you would most likely say yes, and he would make sure that you do. 

.If you do say yes he will continue to worm his way into your life, so that you become completely dependent on him and that you will NEED him to survive and be scared to be with others. 

.If by some chance you turn him down his love and say no to him. 

.Well he will snap, that is right this boy is a snapping type of yandere (another classic trait) 

.He will either stab you or will knock you out. 

.Kidnapping you and playing mind games with you. 

.Breaking you down and wanting you to fall into Stockholm Syndrome with him. 

.He is going to break your mind down and slowly build it back up, with you again depending on him. 

.You break his rules when he has you kidnap you, he will take comforts away, such as food, water, and bedding. 

.Causing you to break down until you beg him or he mentally breaks you. 

.It will end up with you breaking down and depending on him. 

.He has enough patience to make sure that it works and he can wait for you, you are worth it~ 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter is done! I hope that you all enjoyed this and Stay Sexy, all of my Sexy Muffins!] 

[emmaswanned]

I started watching Lost in 2007, so I’ve only been here 17 years, not 20 (ha, only). But I would not be here without it.

I don’t mean that to say Lost saved my life or anything that dramatic, I just think my life would’ve gone in an entirely different direction if I hadn’t watched it. I literally don’t know if I’d have gone to the same college and ended up in the career I’m in right now. Or even if my journey through online fandom would’ve looked the same. I guess maybe I’d have found my way to Tumblr, given as it’s uniquely designed for people with my particular kind of brain worms, but who knows when or how.

Anyway, the community around Lost in the late 00’s when it was airing was a delight and it was a joy and a privilege to watch each episode weekly on that forum (iykyk). I’m very grateful I’m still friends with so many of those people years later. 🥲 (please check out our Lost tribute vid, im so proud of how it turned out!)

Lost is often imitated, never replicated, and I literally think about it every day. The way it approached storytelling was like it was designed for me and idk if I’d encountered that before. I’ve rarely encountered it since. It’s a mystery. It’s a character study. It’s a parable of good and evil. It’s a metaphor. It’s entirely literal. It had dialogue that no human being in reality would ever say but I’m still thinking about two decades later.

Is this your destiny? All roads lead here?

Why do you find it so hard to believe?

It just had that intangible thing that’s impossible to put your finger on, but every piece of media I’ve really loved since then has had it. It’s not hard to connect the dots between Lost and uhhh that video game I’m currently obsessed with

This is far more sentimental, I fear, than I ever like to be, but Lost is too important to me not to say something on its anniversary. 🥲 I love you forever Lost.

[morganafata]

Thanks for the brain worms, Lovely Runner. Now I have theories

I don't watch a lot of currently airing dramas and when I do, I don't usually post anything aside from 'cuuuuute' or 'paaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnn". But because I can no longer be normal about waiting for things, I have let Lovely Runner consume my mind and now I have thoughts about it.

Because the real cool thing about this show (and about kdramas in general) is that it's not just a quirky romcom about two clowns falling in awkward love with each other- it's a murder mystery whodunnit revolving around how Sun Jae died the night he reunited with Im Sol. It's a kdrama but giving '7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hugo' vibes where the protagonist has to figure out who the murderer was in what looks like a suicide while inhabiting a body that's not their's. But in this case, Im Sol has yet to realize that it's a murder. And now I have a Theory.

And it's that Im Sol was the objective the entire time. If not the target, then the focus of the killer. The murderer, whoever it was, just wanted Sun Jae out of the way because he knew that if Sun Jae managed to re-establish a connection with Im Sol again, it would be harder to prey/stalk/possibly murder her.

Because I have watched ep 1 god only knows how many times, and it actually looks as though the phone was deliberately knocked out of her hand. I've seen some theories float around that it might have been a future version of Sun Jae but why would he do that to the woman he loved, knowing what she would endure with her cell phone out of commission (unable to call for help, stranded in the cold with a broken wheelchair). It makes more sense that it was someone with more sinister motives, someone who definitely didn't want her to be able to call for help. It would also make her more willing to get into the most convenient, immediate form of transportation that happened to be passing by. Like...a taxi.

I also think that this stalker/murderer would have been doing this since her high school days because of the fact that someone in a taxi had been following her in episode 4. And what a parallel that would be- just as Im Sol admired to Sun Jae since she was a teenager right into her thirties (and vice versa with Sun Jae having been in love with her from the beginning to the present day) we have another character who has also been obsessed with Im Sol, but not in the sweet, innocent way she was devoted to Sun Jae but in a dangerously obsessed fashion that's more "if I can't have you nobody can''. The night of her accident could have been her stalker's attempt at confessing his "love" only for it to spiral into a kidnapping attempt. Im Sol attempts to run away, Sun Jae thwarts her attacker but it all ends with Im Sol too traumatized to remember that night and resentful of Sun Jae for rescuing her. Sun Jae, full of guilt, keeps his distance and Im Sol is without her protector. And her stalker/Sun Jae's future murderer has been hovering in the margins of her life, satisfied that since she's wheelchair bound and without Sun Jae, she was helpless and 'his'.

But then Sun Jae comes back into her life, Sun Jae who is both a rival and someone who has a habit of saving Im Sol again and again. So, Sun Jae has to be gotten rid of for Im Sol to be truly vulnerable and alone again.

Do I have a theory to who this is? Not really. No one really stands out at this time. Maybe it's a random member from Sun Jae's swim team. Or Sun Jae's swim rival who hates him. But I think he and the CEO guy could just be red herrings for who the actual killer is. I don't think it's Kim Tae Sung. I do think Kim Tae Sung encountered the killer before and the reason he was "expelled" was because he found out the killer's part in Im Sol's accident and was trying to avenge her. It's a little too convenient that he disappeared from the scene after Im Sol's accident because of a 'fight'.

Anyways this could be completely wrong, but I'm having fun guessing. By guessing, I mean suffering waiting for the next ep.

PS Why are 19 year old Sol's bangs so much more cringe when she's not being possessed by her 34 year old self? Kim Tae Sung was telling the truth when he said she got cuter when she became Grandma Sol again.

[silversoulstardust]

Get to know me better!

Thank you for the tag @suchaspookyginger 😘

Last song: sabry aleel by sherine. Idk what she put in that song it’s like crack lol

Favorite color: it depends on mood really but purple is my absolute fav 💜

Last TV show: heaven official’s blessings/tian guan ci fu and frankly I need more of it!! the show is just really beautifully done and now I found out kamiya hiroshi is the one who voiced xie lian in japanese dub? It’s time for a rewatch

Sweet/spicy/savoury: very much a spicy person. Do I suffer? Of course. But do I regret it? lol no

Relationship status: single and looking for a wife/malewife. but believe me when I say I’m not doing anything to change it lol I’m content with fictional characters to obsess over for now

Last google: second line antibiotic for dog bite prophylaxis (because the person who was bitten is allergic to penicillin)

Current obsession: tian guan ci fu. goshhhh the brain worm is unbelievable. I read more books in the span of 3 weeks than I did the entire year last year, and I’m already planning a trip down AO3 after this so I can get more beefleaf content that the canon universe doesn’t give me. I’m so glad I clicked on the show because I was bored out of my mind during that long xmas weekend to give it a try again after failing to do so in 2020. The universe is aligned. I’m gonna be obsessed over mxtx books this year <3

low pressure tag @queenmelody16 @lmskitty @kermit-coded @phontao @elderyautjavegeta @zhimaqiu @olyollyoxenfree @zsbrainrot @wingsofblackleather 😘

[remyfire]

nine people i want to get to know better

@msculper tagged me in this!! Thank you so much, my friend :)

LAST SONG? "Down To You" by Marianas Trench. I am eagerly awaiting their new album in, what, like four days? Really enjoying how the first four tracks flow together.

FAVOURITE COLOR? Powder blue or lavender. I really like soft, light pastels in general.

CURRENTLY WATCHING? The 1995 Pride and Prejudice miniseries. I've never seen it and it's one of my metamour's favorites ever, so I've been especially enjoying going through it with him.

LAST MOVIE? Mandy. Wowie.

SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY? Savory more often than not. But then I eat too much savory and need to eat something sweet to balance it out.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS? Married, polyamorous, unfortunately absurdly picky thanks to the arospec of it all.

CURRENT OBSESSIONS? Oh man, this fic, Ease of Use, it's eating me alive in a positive way. Feels good to get back into flow with writing again. Besides that, MASH all around continues to be the loudest brain worm.

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED? 'sunken living room forest green' for a visual reference for a client's writing commission. The aphantasia kicks my ass, y'all haha.

tagging: @voxmilia @serpercival @trappper-johnathan @cuddleswinchester @persianflaw @bbjkrss-blog @mylittleredgirl oh god R I forgot your Tumblr url if you see this I'm also tagging you aaaaaand the final one is anybody else who thinks it'd be fun to do or hasn't been tagged yet! :)

[sensitiveheartless]

Goblin anon back to dump ADA Chuuya brain worms. This time of the fluffy kind :)

1) Soukoku Operation: Rubber Duck! When Dazai gets stuck on a case because his stupid smart brain ran itself into a wall, sometimes he'll drag Chuuya into a conference room and just talk at him until his brain figures it out. Chuuya got him a rubber duck with a mini hat to talk to when real Chuuya is busy. Dazai named him Chuuya Jr (sometimes actual Chuuya gets jealous).

2) Soukoku Operation: From the Top! Like the first one, sometimes Dazai’s brain just misses a detail, so he just takes his case to Chuuya and makes him read it out loud from the beginning until Dazai figures it out. When Chuuya is gone or busy, he usually targets Ryuu or Atsushi next.

3) As previously discussed, Chuuya’s love language is food. In the office kitchen's fridge, there are a bazillion bento boxes that he's made. Some are specifically for Kenji, others are just for members of the office who need lunch and don't want to go to the cafe.

4) Sometimes points 1 and 3 collide, and members of the office will finish their lunch break and come back to find Dazai spinning in his chair just talking, with Chuuya stopping every few seconds to shove food in his mouth. No one really talks about but Ranpo has pictures.

5) Chuuya (and Dazai, though he's more emotionally constipated about it) are very natural parental figures and tend to just attract stray children to them. Currently the ducklings are Ryuunosuke, Gin, Atsushi, Kyouka, and Q.

6) They also have the fattest, most spoiled cat named Mickey and a golden retriever named Lemon (they were found in a McDonald's container and a lemon crate respectively). Dazai, despite complaining about Chuuya's stray children magnet, was the one to bring both of them home.

7) Gin is technically a secretary since she doesn't have an ability, but she'll also tag along as the vigilante Masked Knife. This creates problems when both Higuchi and Lucy develop crushes on Masked Knife. Ryuunosuke thinks this is hilarious.

8) Shin Soukoku is a trio of Atsushi, Ryuunosuke and Gin. Soukoku worked so well because both Dazai and Chuuya were smart on their own and smarter together (once they stopped flirting- I mean bickering). Atsushi and Ryuunosuke share a single brain cell. Gin needs to be there to provide the common sense and strategy. (Also yes, Gin can do Dazai’s handcuff snapping trick)

9) To finish off with comedy: once on a call with Chuuya, Dazai accidentally calls him Daddy in front of the agency. He has never lived that down.

I hope you don’t mind but I am obsessed with the idea of Chuuya Jr and I ended up doing a very fast doodle akakdjskdjfjfjf

All of these are so good—The mental image of Chuuya feeding Dazai while Dazai is just talking away XD And Gin doing Dazai’s handcuff trick is so fun! :D

[deathbydarkelves]

why has no one asked about Ylrith yet??? please tell us more about Ylrith

:3c

In all fairness, I don’t post about her that much. Mostly because I’m not currently working on any stories that directly involve her so she’s not in my brain as much. I LOVE her, I’m just more focused on the characters I work with more often lol

But basically: poly lesbian mob boss with a snake obsession

She’s the head honcho of a centuries-old crime syndicate called The Gray Order. Ylrith (il-rith) herself usually goes by “The Gray Matron”, but her enemies have given her a plethora of other, similarly sinister names. By now, the Order has connections all across Azeroth, in most any faction worth a damn. The opening up of Kalimdor to the rest of the world was one of the best things to happen to her.

The Order specializes in smuggling drugs, weapons, and other illicit items, but Ylrith will ferry war refugees to safer lands too, and other such things. All she wants is money and more people under her thumb — if you have the money, or are willing to do a favor for her, she’ll help you do what it is you want done. Her trademark phrase isn’t “A favor for a favor, darling” for nothing. Of course, she’s a master of wordcraft, and often gets people to promise more than they think. She’s also got informants everywhere — brothels in the big cities, innkeepers, compromised city guards, and so on — and thus is master of blackmail. You go to her to discuss a deal, you say something she doesn’t like, and she’ll drop a detail about your life you thought no one else knew.

She also has an EXTENSIVE snake collection of species from all over Azeroth and even beyond. If we’re being realistic a lot of the money she makes goes into caring for them lmao she just really loves snakes <3 In fact I was leaning so hard into the snake thing I decided to just say she’s (the elf equivalent of) autistic because no neurotypical person could possibly be that into snakes KSBXBJD Which makes her my second autistic night elf, the first being Cathala 💜 Yet another win for lesbians.

The third key thing about her is the upper crust of the Order are all in a sapphic polycule. They use their powers of polyamory for evil (affectionate). Ylrith is also kind of(?) a “lesbian femme fatale type”. One of her favorite activities is fucking with the royalty of patriarchal cultures like humans by seducing the wives of powerful men and then helping them kill their husbands, the end result being Ylrith now has control over that piece of land at best, and that rich woman’s loyalty at worst. It’s enrichment for her.

Now for more art. This first one is her and her spymaster/favorite assassin/girlfriend Delphine Kaltel, a.k.a. The Serpent’s Fang. Originally Delphine had actually been hired to kill Ylrith but it was an enemies-to-lovers thing <3

This one’s her and her blue dragon girlfriend Tyalagosa, who’s sort of her “court” mage, I suppose:

(She has more gfs/people in the Order’s upper crust, those are just the only two I’ve named, designed, and drawn. One I have yet to draw is Evelyn Torvannas, another Nightborne. She’s the head of a fairly powerful merchant family in Suramar.]

One showing off her other tattoo:

And her voice claim :) (Morrigan from Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Plus this dumb meme that sums her up perfectly imo:

I also like to imagine she has the stupidest most cartoonish rivalry with Shaw lmao. She doesn’t see him as a threat whatsoever and loves toying with the funny little human man, while he fucking HATES her because she’s got her tendrils all up in the Alliance but always worms her way out of repercussions. WLW and MLM hostility.