#surprise! i actually know nothing about colour theory

[atlasvulcandar]

some days (you go insane over your ex boyfriend)

[cheqorb]

More Between Us.

You’ve always been just friends, but they can’t ignore how their heart races whenever you’re near.

FEAT. Isagi, Bachira

NOTES. probably my most tooth-rotting post yet! annnd I totally forgot I had this in my drafts Bring this duo back to me though pleasj

ISAGI is easygoing, and mild-mannered by nature (though perhaps his rivals disagree on that). It’s literally harder to not be friends with him. Your relationship was equally good, nothing particularly special and not abysmal. The type of friends who might talk on the way to class if you spot each other, but never go out of their way to do so either.

If asked, you wouldn’t even say best friends; he’s too busy with his teammates, and you have your own friend group.

See, Isagi enjoys thinking about stuff in a logical sense, using reason and evidence to support his ‘theory’. Both in real life and in football.

So before he even comes to the conclusion of a crush, firstly, there’s the small details he picks up about you.

Your eyes shift colour slightly if the sun hits them right. But, he reckons that happens with everyone’s eyes. Your eyes crinkle upwards when you smile, and maybe even dimples form on your cheeks as you do so. He likes seeing people smile, and yours is… in a way, cuter than anyone else’s? If he had to rank smiles, he’d put yours near the top. All hypothetical, obviously!

He’s always been observant, even as a kid, so Isagi figured he was just feeling a little more insightful as of late but it doesn’t stop there.

Suddenly, Isagi finds himself unconsciously lingering in places he knows you'll be. He tells himself it's just coincidence, but deep down, he has a feeling that he’s seeking you out more often.

Practicing with his team becomes a lot more strategic, with him making sure he's near your usual route home (not in a stalker way, at least, he hopes not), and just on time so that he can ‘bump into you’ and walk together.

And he lives in the complete opposite direction, so, while you don’t mind his presence, you find it a little odd.

Isagi begins to remember every little thing you mention, even the small stuff, like your favorite snack or the song you've been listening to on repeat. Next thing you know, he’s casually surprising you with them, acting like it’s no big deal but loves it when you get visibly excited about it.

He fumbles with his words a little more around you now, overthinking simple things that never used to bother him. It’s not like he’s shy (actually one of the best communicators out of everyone), he just doesn’t want to mess up or make you think he’s weird!

If he says something that could be interpreted as mildly creepy, he’s actually the first one to call it out and apologise over and over again. Beats himself up about it at home, even if you thought it was mildly funny that he knew what you were doing last week Tuesday at around 5:06PM…

When his teammates joke about him having a crush, he laughs it off, but there’s always a little pink in his cheeks that he hopes you don’t notice.

He'll start texting you first more often, just to share something funny or ask for your opinion on something trivial. It’s an excuse, really, just to have another reason to talk to you.

Also catches himself smiling whenever he sees a notification from you pop up on his phone, and his heart does a little flip when he reads your replies, no matter how mundane they are. Literally a “hey, I’m bored. Wanna hang out” is enough for him to lose sleep over it.

When you two do eventually go to said hang out, he pays extra attention to you: whether it's making sure you’re comfortable, or that you’ve got enough to eat, he’s always subtly looking out for you.

Despite all these signs, Isagi convinces himself it’s better this way — giving you small hints for you to understand rather than straight-up confessing. If you notice them and accept, great! If you notice and don’t accept, that’s fine too, he hopes you can remain friends though!

If you’re completely oblivious, well… he’ll muster up the courage to say it outright.

You and BACHIRA are like two peas in a pod together! Where there’s one, the other’s probably lurking nearby somewhere. Every second of every day seems to be spent with each other (and to anybody with common sense, you two already look like you’re dating).

When the crush starts, he thinks about you more than he already did, if that were even possible. Every little thing you do seems to make his heart race, but he sorta brushes it off as just excitement from being with his best friend.

Kind of a trickier situation than Isagi’s one this way though, because now you’re so close, Bachira doesn’t even feel that different about you. He might not even realise it’s romantic until his mother points it out in the midst of another one of his rambling sessions. About you, that is.

I won’t sugarcoat it; he’s nervous if anything. You’re one of the few friends he has and genuinely seem to care and like about him and if he ruins your friendship over his feelings, he’d be devastated.

But he’s back to his usual self and gains a little confidence after some encouragement from others!

Bachira’s clinginess ramps up a notch, but it’s so typical of him that you might not even notice. He’s constantly draping an arm around you, leaning on you, or just being in your personal space as much as possible.

Willing to share anything and everything with you. For example, if it’s snacks he’s got, he’s always picking out the best pieces just for you and handing them over with a cute smile.

Bachira finds himself staring at you a lot more now. Sometimes you’ll catch him and he’ll just laugh it off with a playful comment, but on the inside, his mind is racing with thoughts he can’t quite put into words.

When you talk, he listens with full attention, his usual playful demeanor softening into something more tender. He hangs onto your every word like it’s the most important thing he’s ever heard — and you could literally be talking about a bug you saw on the sidewalk this morning.

If you ever need anything, Bachira’s the first one to jump in and help, no questions asked. He’d go out of his way just to make you smile, even if it means a truckload of extra effort on his part.

Sometimes, he hints at deeper feelings in his usual roundabout way — in little jokes that might just have a hint of truth behind them. But he always plays it off as just that, a joke.

If you’re feeling down, he’s the first to notice, offering comfort in the form of goofy antics or just sitting with you in silence if that’s what you want.

If you ever confront him directly and ask if he feels something more than just being friends, Bachira might just spill everything in a rush of words; unable to keep his feelings hidden any longer. But until then, he’s content simply being by your side, even if it means he isn’t being entirely honest to himself.

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 3

Part 2

Tim reached up to rub at his temples and groaned. This was getting him nowhere. Normally he enjoyed going down the research rabbit-hole but this was ridiculous! Paranormal sciences were a bad joke. Most of it was conjecture, hearsay and unprovable theories with just enough scientific sounding jargon peppered in to confuse a layperson. Peer-review was practically non-existent, not to mention a proper scientific method. Francis Bacon would be rolling in his grave!

The slight hiss of the elevator doors opening interrupted his thoughts.

“Hey Replacement, you missed dinner!” Jason called, sauntering over with a loaded plate in hand. He set down a sandwich next to Tim’s elbow. “Alfie says he’s cutting off your coffee supply until you get some damn sleep. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna start prepping the knock-out gas soon!” he quipped, leaning his hip against the Batcomputer’s console. “Research on the League giving you trouble?”

“I wish.” Tim sighed, reaching for the sandwich, “The Assassins have actually been pretty quiet recently. I found some leads on suspicious political donations in Italy, but nothing I can tie to them directly. Talia’s in Paris as far as I can tell, working at an investment firm for God knows what reason. Probably money laundering related. And the ones holed up in Nanda Parbat have been quiet as murderous little church mice.”

“Ra’s isn’t up to anything? Colour me shocked.” Jason drawled sardonically, “You sure he’s not cooking up a new batch of demon spawn in that mountain of his?”

Tim shook his head. “You know Bruce destroyed his cloning labs after the last… incident. And I’ve found no records of the League procuring the necessary materials or equipment to restart production.” he wrinkled his nose, “Of course it’s possible that they used a shell company we haven’t come across yet, but I believe the odds are pretty low.”

“So what’s got your panties in a bunch then?”

Tim’s mouth twisted in a frown. “Ghosts.”

“Ah.”

Jason stared off into space and Tim took a bite of his sandwich. Egg-salad, score! The Cave was silent for a while, only disturbed by the noise of the actual bats heading out for their nightly hunt.

“I can’t tell you for sure if ghosts are real or not. I don’t remember anything from when I was… dead.” Jason said haltingly, and Tim stilled. “But we’ve seen people come back under pretty weird circumstances. So why not ghosts?” Jason shrugged.

Tim chewed and swallowed before replying. “Because it’s one thing for the physical body to be restored, but some kind of nebulous ‘spirit’ lingering? Why don’t we see ghosts all the time then? Why don’t people come back? Why not…” Tim broke off.

“Your Dad?”

Tim nodded and dropped the remains of the sandwich back on the plate. It suddenly looked as appetising as cardboard.

“I don’t know, birdie. We still don’t know why I came back.” Jason snorted “Maybe the universe just has a sick sense of humour.”

Tim’s lips curled up in a mirthless smile. “Maybe the universe missed your terrible puns. Some of those still haunt me.”

Jason barked out a surprised laugh. “That was terrible!”

“The universe clearly made a grave mistake.”

“Stop it, I can feel my brain cells dying!” Jason groaned and gave Tim a light punch to the shoulder.

“Well we can’t have that, you have so few already!” Tim snarked, then quickly leaned to the side to evade Jason’s attempted noogie. Jason huffed and stepped back, crossing his arms.

“All right mister teenage genius. What have you dug up about ghosts then?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “There’s obviously tons of folklore from all over the world. Pretty much every mythology has stories about the spirits or souls of the dead returning to haunt the living. But if there’s a scientific basis to all this then it’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Even the supposed leaders in the field are hopelessly biased.” He pulled up some documents on the screen. “Take these for example. The Doctors Fenton are supposed experts in the field of ‘Ecto-Biology’ as they call it, but their research papers would never fly with a proper scientific journal. A lot of it comes across as blatantly xenophobic towards the entities they are supposedly studying and their research methods seem geared towards confirming what they view as foregone conclusions. And most of their peers operate on the same track.”

Jason hummed thoughtfully as he skimmed one of the articles in question. “Do you think there’s anything to this, or is it all just a hoax?”

Tim snorted. “If there is, they haven’t offered any conclusive proof. Though they certainly seem to have made it work for them. The Fentons have a series of patents for weapons and defenses against these supposed ‘ecto-entities’ and it looks like there’s plenty of people gullible enough to buy them. I haven’t taken a closer look at their products yet, but a lot of it looks like something out of a pulp sci-fi movie.” He pulled up the image of what looked like a bazooka with green glowing parts. Jason whistled.

“So, con artists or mad scientists?”

“Could be both. Their financial records are all over the place and they’ve had some large transactions with what I’m pretty sure are shell companies in recent years. They live and operate out of a small city in Illinois.” Tim said, pulling up the relevant documents on screen.

“Amity Park?” Jason read aloud.

“Supposedly it’s ‘The Most Haunted City in America’. Seems on brand, doesn’t it?”

“It probably helps them stay in business. It looks like they have kids?” Jason pointed at the tax returns. Tim typed some search queries into the system.

“Two. One in high school, one just started her first semester at Metropolis University. With a full scholarship to boot.” He spent a few more minutes hacking into the university’s systems. “Here we go, Jasmine Fenton. Looks like she’s going for a psychology degree. And… hm…” Tim trailed off. Jason quickly realised what had caught his attention.

“‘The Damaging Effects of Envy Towards Metahumans? That’s a hell of a topic for a freshman-year essay.” Jason remarked.

“Yes. I wonder…” Tim drummed his fingers on the keyboard. “She might have some insight into her parents’ research.”

“And at a cursory glance, she didn’t drink whatever Kool-Aid her parents were serving.” Jason finished for him. “You wanna go pump her for information?”

“I might as well. If nothing else, maybe we can shut down a couple of mad scientists before they become a problem.” Tim stood up and stretched. “Time for a field trip!”

Part 4

[bubuslutty]

Day 3: Cat Crisis

this is part 3, all parts

pairing: demon/angel!fem reader x 141

word count: 2.5k

tags: a bit of lusting cuz my boys r hot, naughty moments but nothing nsfw, proofread by me so sorry for any mistakes

warnings: smoking

summary: Kuromi gets stuck on a tree, Angel almost has a heart attack and she finally meets Simon, properly.

a/n: this is just fun and silly really. I hope u enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it 💖 ALSO!! VERY IMPORTANT!! I can't seem to be able to tag some of you, even if the username is correct, so please check your settings.

Angel has to admit, she likes this assignment quite a lot. It was fun, living in a nice house in a quiet neighbourhood, with interesting and fascinating neighbours. At least, the ones that live to her left because her neighbours to her right are an old couple who barely make any noise, you'd think nobody even lives in their house.

That trip to Tesco was more fun than she expected. Turns out that Johnny was funnier than she imagined, nothing in his file could have prepared her for Soap's colourful character and hilarious jokes. And Kyle was as charming and intelligent and quick to joke as she'd imagined.

And Price was calm and collected, making sure that the two men didn't get in trouble in the store. But it didn't make hanging out with him any less fun, oh he was plenty fun, Angel knows it, and can practically taste it. It's just going to take a bit of work to make him open up. Angel can't wait to start working with him.

About the actual shopping, the men proved themselves useful and very helpful. Angel was grateful for this because buying food and cooking was a bit of a hassle and she gets overwhelmed with the stupid amount of choices for the same fucking thing. They recommended certain snacks, drinks, food combos, and things easy and quick to cook, and even helped her pick out the freshest fruits and vegetables. Eating was hard, Angel has no idea how humans do it every day.

When they paid for everything, Angel was pleased and surprised when Price went ahead and grabbed her shopping for her without saying anything. She told him he didn't have to, that she could carry her things by herself with no problem, but he claimed it was the least a gentleman could do.

No matter what Angel told him, he refused to give them to her until they reached the car and he told her to dig inside his pocket to unlock the car and open the trunk. "Your Captain is so stubborn," Angel complained to the other two men, with a pout on her face.

"Tell me about it." Gaz sighed, making her giggle in disbelief.

Now she was happily suckling on an orange-flavoured popsicle, sitting on her dining table, facing the garden's opened door. She was enjoying the sunlight and breeze on her skin when a very loud scream startled her. Angel nearly dropped her popsicle when her eyes zeroed on the big tree at the back of her garden, and Kuromi right at the top, screaming for help.

Angel gasped in horror, throwing her unfinished popsicle in the trash and running outside her garden, barefoot. Angel has no idea if her cat has the same sort of abilities as she does. She is immortal, that she’s sure of, but whether Kuromi can get hurt or not is a mystery to Angel. And she doesn't feel like testing that theory today at all.

"Kuromi! How did you get up there?!" Angel was actually panicking, as she looked at the many branches the tree had and just how high her stupid cat decided to climb. How the hell is she supposed to get her cat down without using her powers to do something so ridiculous that the Wish Office will phone her, and ask if she's out of her mind?

"Kuromi, you stupid fucking idiot, you'll die!" Angel was now on the verge of tears. She loved her stupid cat to death, and would rather die instead of watching her kitty get hurt. Angel approached the tree, squinting her eyes and looking up at the branches and thick leaves, seeing if she could climb up.

Angel was so preoccupied with trying to figure out how to save her cat, that she didn't notice Ghost smoking while leaning against the door that separates their kitchen and garden. He had a plain grey zip-up hoodie, a pair of loose black sweats and his skull mask on, hunched up on his nose bridge, keeping his lower face out so he could easily smoke.

He silently watched Angel argue with her cat. He knows a bit about his neighbour from Soap and Gaz, and he has to admit, not only she's pretty but intelligent. Even though his guys seemed to like her, Ghost doesn't easily trust people and she's no exception. He kept watching her struggle, on the verge of tears, until he decided to put his cigarette out.

Ghost silently walked down their garden while lowering his mask back down. It was so stupid how low the fence was. It just reached his waist and it would be so easy for him to jump into her garden. And that's exactly what he did, jumping over the fence with one hand on it for support.

Angel slightly jumped when he stood next to her. She didn't hear him come over, and she just stared up at the man with panicked eyes. She knew he was Simon, the pretty blue eyes were the same along with the pale eyelashes.

Simon was not even looking at her, he was looking up at the tree where Kuromi was. Angel took the opportunity to really look at him. He was absolutely fucking huge, for no reason at all. And he had sleeve tattoos on his veiny arms, Angel thanked fate that Simon decided to roll up his sleeves because his tattoos are beautiful. And what's even prettier, is the skin of his neck and collarbone. He wasn't wearing anything underneath the zip-up hoodie and Angel felt her mouth water.

Simon finally looked down at her, and Angel immediately opened her mouth to speak, "Do you think you can help me get Kuromi down, please?"

Simon gazed down at her hopeful eyes, and simply nodded, "Stand back."

Angel nodded, "Thank you so much!"

She stepped away and watched the man get closer to the tree. "Be careful!" Angel said, her hands clasped against her chest, watching Simon work his way up the tree quickly.

"Kuromi, you hurt him and I'll fist-fight you!" Angel shouted at her cat, who hissed back down at her owner.

Simon couldn't help but chuckle at the woman's antics and when he knew if he climbed any higher, no branch would support his weight, he broke one with his bare hand and used it as a makeshift ladder for the cat. He stretched his body as much as he could, "Come on, kitty, get over here." Simon crooned.

To his utter surprise, the cat listened and started slowly scooting over towards him on a shaky branch. Kuromi successfully reached Simon's branch and held onto it very tightly and Simon gently lowered the cat down towards him. As soon as she was easily reachable, he grabbed the cat by the scruff of her neck and hugged her to his chest with one hand.

"Alright, now how can I get down with you?..." Simon mumbled and hummed when he got an idea. He hugged the cat with one arm and used the other to zip off his hoodie, using his thick thighs for support so he wouldn't fall.

Angel watched with awe how Simon managed to completely take off his zip-up hoodie, leaving his glorious amazing upper half naked, and bundled up Kuromi in the hoodie. Simon glanced down at Angel and smirked under his mask, "Catch!"

Angel literally screamed and he laughed, almost tearing up. "You dickhead!" Angel shouted, ripping grass from the ground out of anger and throwing it towards his direction.

Simon made a makeshift fanny pack using the hoodie's sleeves, securing Kuromi against his chest while he carefully climbed down. When he wasn't too far from the ground, he decided to jump off and roll to safety, with the cat still clutched against his chest.

Angel almost fainted and immediately ran to Simon as he stood up, dusting off his knees. "My baby!" She cried, grabbing her cat from the hoodie and kissing the kitty over and over on her small face.

Simon watched the woman with amusement as she checked over her cat and finally looked at Simon, her cat still in his arms. "Thank you so much for saving the life of my dumbass cat. But if you scare me like that again, I will make you regret it." She said, pressing a finger to Simon's naked chest.

He glanced down at her finger and met her eyes cooly, "You're welcome."

"You actually scared me so much, probably even more than Kuromi did!" Angel sighed, nuzzling her face in her cat's fur. Now Simon actually feels a bit guilty for scaring her and scratched the back of his neck.

"Do you want a cup of coffee?" He offered.

Angel lifted her head, surprised, "Cup of coffee?"

"To apologise."

Angel blinked at the man and cracked a small smile, "I think I'd like that."

Simon gave her an awkward nod and jumped over the fence and turned to her, hoodie held in his hand. "Come on."

Angel looked at the fence and then at her cat still in her arms, "Uhm, okay, hold Kuromi for me."

She walked closer to the fence, holding Kuromi so Simon could grab her. But Simon dodged the cat and held her by the armpits, just like she was holding her cat and easily lifted her over the fence. Angel squealed and wrapped her legs around his waist and wrapped one arm around his neck while the other was holding Kuromi against her chest.

Simon froze, his hands hovering over her back.

"What are you guys doing?"

Angel and Simon whipped their heads towards the voice and saw Soap holding a basket full of clean laundry, ready to hang it outside to dry while Gaz held a smaller basket of colourful pegs.

"Uhm, nothing!" Angel let out a nervous laugh and jumped off Simon, rushing inside their home with her cat in her arms.

Soap and Gaz glanced at each other and then back at Simon, "Why are you shirtless?" Gaz asked.

"Had to use my hoodie for the cat." Was Simon's dry answer and he walked inside, leaving Soap and Gaz with even more questions.

He found Angel awkwardly standing in the middle of their kitchen, and noticed that she was barefoot. "Wait here." He said and left the kitchen.

Angel took the opportunity to look around the kitchen. It was tidy and didn't have any plants or any sort of decoration. The fridge did have some menus and coupon codes for Domino's on it. However, next to the kettle, there was an impressive coffee machine, the sort that's expensive with many settings, fancy buttons and cool gadgets.

Angel barely drinks coffee, almost never, but now she was excited to see Simon work the cool machine.

She heard footsteps and turned around. Ghost was back and dressed in a t-shirt now, he also had a pair of slippers in his hands. "Wear these." He placed the pair next to her feet and Angel did as he said, heart fluttering in her chest, how silly.

"What would you like?" He asked, turning around and washing his hands in the sink.

"What?" Angel said, staring at his ass, completely distracted.

"Coffee. What sort of coffee would you like?" He turned back around, just as Angel ripped her eyes from his ass.

"Uhm," Angel gulped, she had no idea if he caught her staring or not but she wanted to scream either way. "I don't drink coffee that much, so make me something sweet, please."

Ghost stared at her silently, which made Angel nervous. Did she say something weird?

"What's wrong?"

Simon shrugged, "Nothing." and went straight to work, preparing mugs and pressing this button and that button on the coffee machine.

Both Angel and Kuromi were intensely staring at the beeping sleek machine and Simon smiled when he noticed. "What does Kuromi mean?"

"The name itself or who is she named after?" Angel ripped her eyes away from the coffee machine and looked over at Simon.

"Both."

Angel smiled, "Well, according to Google, Kuromi in Japanese means 'black beauty', but I've named her after a cartoon character whose name is Kuromi. Actually, Let me show you."

Simon glanced at the woman as she dug her hand in her pocket and retrieved her phone, opening google."That's Kuromi," Angel said, making Simon lean closer so he can see better.

"What type of creature is that?" Simon asked, squinting his eyes and trying to guess what type of animal the character was.

"It's actually a white bunny wearing a black jester hat! See! It even has a little pink skull! And instead of having a fluffy tail, she has a devil's tail, isn't she cute?" Angel said, Simon looked at her then back down at the cat in his arms.

"But your cat isn't a rabbit." Simon said.

"I know! But look! She's white with black ears! And a black tail! And she's mischievous just like Kuromi! And I gave her a pink collar with a pink skull!" Angel said, practically vibrating next to Simon, eyes big and literally glowing.

Simon tilted his head down and lifted the kitty's chin up, seeing the shiny skull dangling off the collar. He turned the skull over, reading Angel's full name and phone number.

"I can see the similarities." Simon hummed, giving the cat scratches, making her purr.

"There's another similarity, actually." Angel grinned.

"Really?" Simon said, still scratching the cat.

"Between Kuromi and you!" Angel said, and Simon lifted his head, meeting her eyes, he raised a brow, prompting her to spit it out.

"The skulls, silly!" Angel giggled.

Oh, yeah. The skulls.

Simon unconsciously reached for his mask but stopped his hand before it caressed the hand painted skull. The machine beeped and Simon removed the mug from under the machine, opening the cupboards to get sugar.

"Can we join you for a cup of coffee?" Soap suddenly asked, entering the kitchen, followed by Gaz.

"Of course, this is your house." Angel smiled and Gaz immediately ran to the cat in her arms, cooing and petting the little thing.

"And you have to tell us how you ended up on him while he was shirtless, which he wasn't, earlier in the day." Soap said while getting snacks.

"Okay, and did you know that your friend Simon is actually an evil little shit?" Angel said, as if it was the most shocking thing ever while she sat down at the table next to Gaz, who was holding her cat in his arms.

"Ghost, call me Ghost." Simon quickly corrected her.

"Ghost actually scared the shit out of me, I thought I was going to die!" Angel continued without missing a beat.

"You thought you were going to die? What the hell happened while I was in the shower?" Price said, walking inside the kitchen, wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of shorts, hair still wet.

"Oh my days, John, sit down and let me tell you what he did!" Angel groaned, patting the other seat next to her.

"Well, alright then." John shrugged and sat down.

Simon sighed, placing her mug down and getting more mugs out to make coffee for everyone, "Fucking hell…"

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @obiwankenobis-lap @goapgrim @smalldemonlover @loveyhoneydovey @cutiecusp @pinkwigonmytv @mandythemint @itsberrydreemurstuff @tapioca-marzipan @fruitymoonbeams-blog @poohkie90 @chaoticevilbakugo @anubis-reed @thefairybird @skytacvia @marytvirgin @cynicalmnm @maechanexe @t0jis-worm @1800imgay @4ndjelij4 @multitargaryen @lilpothoscuttings @mysticalpandabear

[kanmom51]

Jungkook 3 (or 4) Wlives on 14 March 2023

A Jikook filled event, with and without JM even being there (physically or virtually).

Let's talk about JK, the non conformist, the rebel with a cause, who decided to give us a 3 part date on White day.

And yes, I'm 100% sure most army believe he was on a date with them. Question, my friends, is which 'army' that was exactly...

One thing for sure, JK showed up on white day, and right through all three lives, scratch that, all 4 lives, he weaved in JM. JM, their relationship, was inserted into every single one of those lives, one way or another.

White day

A significant day for couples in SK (Japan and China as well). The loved one that received the gift on Valentine's day is on the giving side on White day.

White day 2022 JM posted this pic on his IG

We also know they went out to a restaurant with friends, a restaurant they used to frequent and ever since the photo of them there leaked they stopped visiting.

Oh, and yes, lest forget JK's cover to Only then was gifted to 'army' on White day 2018.

Yeah, this wasn't a song for army, unless it was JM 'army', that is.

So, white day is meaningful to couples and is meaningful to JM and JK as well.

8/11

I know that there are many that don't believe in the Jikook number theories. Think it is a coincidence. Think that 8 November has no significance to them and that they don't seem to conveniently keep coincidently mentioning these numbers or seemingly mention numbers that have to do with said date. All a coincidence.

So, my friends, let's talk about the 8/11 coincidences during these three lives, why don't we?

Live 1

14.3.2023 - starting time: 8:11 PM.

1+4+3+2+2+3=15

8/11/15

Some might say a coincidence.

I say hell no.

Just like this was no coincidence:

No math, no calculating needed. It's right there for all of us to see.

Live 2

14.3.2023 live starting at 21:20 or 9:20 pm.

So yeah, did he do the 8:11 again???

9+2=11

1+4+3=8

8/11

Live 3

14.3.2023 live starting at 22:44 or 10:44 pm.

4+4=8

2+2+4+3=11

and yet again we get

8/11

Now, although there could be discussion, legitimately, about the second and third lives and the 8/11 - you either believe they do the math or you don't - but there can be no discussion as to the first live. Nope. Spin it around as much as you will, the numbers still land on 8/11, no surprise what so ever.

JK's outfits:

Live 1

We get the black and white combo sweatshirt (jersey).

Were we symbolising the black and white couple?

All I'm saying is that it's an interesting choice.

Live 2

Wearing the white airy loose fitting collared button up shirt. White day obviously comes to mind.

White shirt black pants. Again the black and white.

What also comes to mind is his JM birthday message to JM way back in 2022. Same vibe.

The playing with the hair, the showing of the tattoos, the glasses at one point. Couldn't help but think of that JK created clip. Especially after JK tells us he could actually see properly and only brought the glasses because he thought he'd look good in them, lol.

Live 3

Purple jacket (nothing underneath, ahm...) and white beanie, for the winter, ski lodge, vibe.

Purple a colour we know they both revert to many times. It's army, it's JK and JM (purple and yellow).

And the white, well white day again?

JK's special necklace

Looks like that showed up for us in the first 2 lives (third one he was all covered up, so no telling if he still had it on).

It's a little hard to tell if it's the same chain. Especially because it's a plain silver chain with no pendant. But it definitely looks similar. 🤷‍♀️

Timing, outfits, accessories, all good and well, just more brush strokes to that big ass neon coloured sign JK was painting for us telling us this was no coincidence. The lives on white day, a date with 'army' when 'army' was far far away.

But if those were the brush strokes to the sign, where is the sign itself, you ask.

So what else did JK do? Say? Play? Show?

Soundtrack

Live 1

First, let me mention that JK knit picked his playlist in this live. He was sitting there just passing song after song choosing the songs he wanted to listen to, was in the mood to listen to (within a playlist he had already going).

There for you

talking about the tokyo trip, soundtrack for gcft that happened to be uploaded 8/11/2017.

And do we talk about the amount of times either he or JM have mentioned that trip? Must have been some heck of a brotherly trip for the mates to remember it and talk about it non stop.

And do I mention this specific time that comes to mind?

Edited but cute, lol.

Btw, he sat there listening to almost the full song, only to say it's not the right vibe for the live towards the end part ("running just to keep my hands on you" part).

Christmas day

Bruno major Nothing

Question: If a documentary about yourself was produced, which song would you like to use for ending credit?

 🐥: Bruno Major's "Nothing". I think the mood of the song suits me well.

Live 2

Hate everything

JK, out of no where says there's a song he never sang for us live, and goes looking for this song (it didn't come up on his playlist, he went looking for it).

It felt to me like JK doesn't frequently listen to this song. It's not on his playlist, he didn't know the lyrics (unlike other songs he did know the lyrics to).

Remember this cover of his?

You know, the one he posted when JM just got released from hospital Feb 2022. Same cover that he timed at 1:18 min.

Felt it was an interesting choice of song, given it just come up on his playlist, nor seemingly, is it one he listens to too much (the second part is my conclusion).

Live 3

Falling

Singing Falling, knowing the lyrics kind of proves my previous point. A song listened to a lot as opposed to one that probably isn't but suited a point JK wanted to make or suited a mood JK was in at the time.

This is a song liked by JM and JK, we got to hear JM singing it during Festa 2020.

Anyway, JK released this song on the 4th anniversary of his and JM's trip to Tokyo.

Another coincidence? I don't think so.

JM

Well, obviously we got JK mentioning JM in the first live when There for you came up.

In live 2 JM actually shows up. And JK finds the need to explain to him about how this is part two and how he changed outfits for this part, lol.

Nice use of honorifics there JK.

NOT.

Well, not at first. He rectifies it by opening the next sentence with hyung, lol.

First instance JK rectified. But when JK thought JM left the live he got all commando on him, this time leaving the honorifics behind completely, calling him to come back.

@KMFACT summed the whole interaction so well in her 2 minute clip:

Live 3

Foreshadowing?

Fly away butterfly.

Live 4

Let's talk about live 4. Because JK wasn't going to come back for another part 4. Given, he ended part 3 while crying (yes, he was crying) and I'm assuming forgot to convey the message he wanted to and for which he came back with live 4, which was around 5 minutes long.

In live 4 he tells us he wanted to say goodbye properly. It's not that he didn't say goodbye at the end of part 3. Just saying.

He continues to say that he wants us to be happy. Be happy even if they aren't there. The translation here is a little different on Weverse than it was from the translation accounts. Weverse translation being happy even if they aren't "here", while the accounts were translating it as be happy "even without us". Kind of rings differently.

Him bringing it up then and there made me think that perhaps that's what was one of the things on his mind when he was pensive prior to the tears forming in live 3.

Anyways, JK came back to also (or perhaps to mainly) convey another message:

So yeah, JK telling us to look forward to midnight, something amazing is coming, "please look forward to that".

He meant this amazing thing, btw:

Hyping up the boyfie.

All while knowing what's coming is truly amazing.

And were we forshadowing here

The tears

Fake tears, not the real ones that came at the end.

Pause for a second, I'm over here ugly crying a little.

Throughout the 3 lives JK makes use of those fake tears.

Funny story he tells us, that he actually bought a whole lot of them for Bam, who was having issues with his eyes. Laughing at how similar the two are, eye problems, skin problems...

It does look like he's having issues with dry eyes.

But, when seeing it, every single time he pulled out those eye drops, I couldn't help but think about this:

Lol, even more so in the second live.

Showing us the hand tatts.

Ok, so this, to me, is a big one, and as usual kind of overlooked.

As opposed to many that think so, I really really don't think this was about showing us his ARMY tattoo, or being proud of his ARMY tattoo.

Why don't I think it's the army tattoo he's showing us?

Maybe because of everything going on? Maybe because he told us he wasn't too happy with the army tattoo itself.

Maybe because he picks the song, Golden hour by JVKE (when showing us the hand).

Maybe because he sits and listens to it, lingering on.

Maybe because he plays around with the candle, placing it just in the right place to showcase the tattoos he was planning to show us and when he was done he pulls it back towards himself.

Maybe because he clearly knew the song, and the lyrics as well.

Maybe because of how he timed it, showing us the tattoos at the exact timing that he did.

Maybe because of the way he showed them to us, the way he wiggled his fingers.

And maybe, just maybe because just as he finished showing us those tattoos, the JM clearly darker and thicker than the other letters, he also sang specific lyrics from the song he knew, complimenting showing us the tattoos with:

"... the love of my life..."

humming the continuation, omitting the lyrics which are female directed.

Maybe.

[coffeelomort]

Fragaria Memories Collab Cafe menu translation

I'm sure a translation is already out there, but I'll throw my hat in the ring for the fun of it. At the moment I've only translated the titles, but I'll probably come back and translate all the descriptions. I'm no professional by any means (a lot of my translations are purely vibe-based) and I'll leave notes for things that are weird.

As always, feel free to let me know if anything's off with the translations! My ask box is open (and I believe you can comment anonymously if you'd like).

(Also pleasantly surprised that the menu is pretty broad compared to a lot of collab cafes I've seen. I think the speculation was that we'd get a main meal per Bouquet and then some random sides or drinks.)

FOOD MENU:

Rimicha's love limit salmon ♡ burger plate (リミチャの限界ラブ・サーモン♡バーガープレート)

Kurode's hidden hard working and inferior omelette katsu curry with crispy rakkyo (クロードの隠れた努力と劣等のオムカツカレーwithパリパリらっきょう)*

Myunna's flour-filled lemon cream pasta ~with deep fried prawn~ (ミュンナの粉いっぱいレモンクリームパスタ〜エビフライもいっしょ〜)

Badobarm's longed for chirashi sushi. "I'll eat it for sure one day!" (バドバルマのいつか絶対食べてやるぜ！憧れのちらし寿司)

Hangyon's everyday would be boring without any surprises~ chilled Chinese Noodles?! (ハンギョンの日々サプライズがないとつまらないですよね〜冷やし中華！？)

DESSERT MENU:

Hallritt's apple pie-like eton mess present (ハルリットのアップルパイのようなマンリーメスの贈り物)*

Merold's Lord's resounding sweet tune-like strawberry ice cream tart (メロルドの主への甘い音色響かせ��� いちごアイスタルト)*

Cielomort's cafe croissaint roll that floats in the blue sky (シエロモートの青空に浮かぶカフェクロワッサンロール)

Louterstella's star-shaped hotcakes that Kura likes (ルタールステラのクラも好きなお星様形ホットケーキ)

Pikero's experiment? A chou donut that I've stuffed with matcha whipped cream made from your trivial and pointless logic (ピケロの実験？君の軽くて空虚なロジックに俺が抹茶ホイップを詰めてあげようかシュードーナツ)*

DRINK MENU:

Puruth's wanting to drink pudding pudding-style milkshake (プルースのプリンと飲みたいプリン風ミルクセーキ)

Romarriche's rosehip tea which conveys heartfelt warmth and consideration (ロマリシュの温かい思いやりが心に伝わるローズヒップティー)

Sanah's full bloom nahaha~♪-like colourful frozen drink (サナーの満開なはは〜♪なカラフルフローズンドリンク)

Willmesh's gathered thoughts fluffy pastel soda (ウィルメッシュの想いしたためる ふんわりパステルソーダ)*

Klarkstella's dreams of stars and clouds' white water* (クラークステラの夢見るお星様と雲のホワイトウォーター)

Chaco's chocolate banana milk that he found on a detour (チャコの寄り道で見つけた とっておきのチョコバナナミルク)

Arupek's fired up kabosu lemon squash (アルペックの気合い入れのかぼすレモンスカッシュ)

Tuxam's Awesome! Cream soda that has the grace valued by gentlemen (タッサムのAwesome!紳士たるもの品格が大切なクリームソーダ)

Drinks with a Fragaria Bouquet cookie (フラガリアブーケクッキー付きドリンク)

Notes:

I'm sure people know about rakkyo, but for the sake of it I'll just note that this is what it is. It's a side dish often paired with Japanese curry.

So this by far gave me the most trouble, mostly because I had no idea what マンリーメス is and any articles on it were from 2017 about a cafe in Japan claiming that they're popular in Australia. (They weren't, from what I can tell.) A theory posed to me is that a cafe somewhere in Australia (likely Manly, Sydney) had an eton mess on their menu called a "Manly Mess".

Noting here that I... really have no idea what Merold's dish's title actually is. This is my best guess considering the kanji and the vibes I get from it.

Whatever's going on with Pikero's dish, I had a hard time translating it. There's nothing really implying that the matcha whipped cream is made from 'your logic' nor is that really the vibe I get, but I'm not quite sure how else to translate it.

Just wanted to note here that "white water" probably means it's a yoghurt-based drink, according to one of my sources.

[spikebit]

thank you for tagging me @ungratefulbeyotchhotline !!!

i will tag uhh @sykoyo @buriedwithoutceremony @acidbathcat @menthe-venimeuse @pennysmell and anyone else who sees this :3

Do you make your bed? only at night before i get in!

What's your favorite number? 13... tomorrow is my day babie!!

What is your job? in theory i am an artist/creator and i work part-time retail for (unspecified major gaming company). in practice i'm a basically a NEET failwife lol

If you could go back to school, would you? probably yes!! depends on the schooling... i would really like to go to art school (soon). if i'm interested in it and there's no pressure i would love to

Can you parallel park? i cannot drive so. no. in my heart though i'm really good at it

A job you had that would surprise people? mannn idk i don't think any of my jobs were really surprising or out of character... people seem mildly shocked when i tell them i work for (unspecified major gaming company) but that's usually just because they didn't know they had retail-level employees

Do you think aliens are real? undoubtedly, there's no way life only exists on earth. sounds like a creationist myth

Can you drive a manual car? UMMM see above... trying to learn how to operate a clutch has been my biggest barrier to getting my license so far rip

What's your guilty pleasure? none, i refuse to feel guilty about things i enjoy. actually maybe i do feel guilty about picking at pimples (as i should)

Tattoos? none :( i thought i would have a bunch by now but i just haven't pulled the trigger yet

Favorite color? this specific oversaturated lime green/yellow is myyyy colour #c5ff00

Favorite type of music? i love weird house+techno and like emo music... also really enjoy prog metal and jazz and deep dubstep. anything i can just vibe to or musically complex but still enjoyable. a few artists/bands i really like are dance gavin dance, jafu, origami button, moderat, fm-84, jamiroquai, loathe, minor sine project

Do you like puzzles? depends, i like video game puzzles but i'm not really a big puzzle person. my family does a big jigsaw puzzle at xmas every year and i'm not very good at them bc i tend to focus on one piece instead of the whole puzzle. call me if u need to pack though that's my kind of puzzle

Any phobias? genuinely don't know. i don't really like crowds. also i get gross vertigo so i'm not great with high places but idk if i would call it a phobia

Favorite childhood sport? none lol i played soccer for a few years and haaaaated it. i am not a very physical person but i respect people who do sports.

Do you talk to yourself? sometimes. mostly i talk to my dog

What movies do you adore? a goofy movie is the best animated musical of all time and i will die on this hill

Coffee or Tea? coffee. kind of a hard choice cuz i love my yerba mate but nothing hits like coffee with milk in the morning

First thing you wanted to be when you grew up? idk lol probably a wolf

[ginbenci]

a get to know you better meme

tagged by @mightymightygnomepriest

do you make your bed? in winter yes, in summer rarely (the difference between 7 carefully layered blankets and one (1) light cotton sheet)

what’s your favourite number? in my early teens, 13, because it's supposed to be unlucky and I was perverse and enjoyed being Special. ...Now.... I don't really do favourite anythings. Numbers are good as they are, and whether I like them or not. I'm fond of 12, being the smallest abundant number, and also of 70, being the smallest weird (an abundant number that is not, unlike twelve, pseudoperfect). but this is a ramanujan moment (nothing's boring, you just don't know what makes it cool)

what is your job? I work in tech law!

If you could go back to school would you? eugh. for what, and who's paying?

can you parallel park? Legally, no! (i, ah, need to level up my license before it lapses [again]). Practically, probably--i could a decade ago?

a job you had that would surprise people? knife selling

do you think aliens are real? OOOOOOH do you want to hear my semi-complex theory involving the metallicity of stars???? it's highly relevant

can you drive a manual car? ...

what’s your guilty pleasure? matcha ice cream. the guilt accrues because i KNOW i will forget about it in my freezer after eating one serving and the rest will go bad 😭 but I want the one serving so much!

tattoos? nope, but not for any reason. just never done

favourite colour? why on earth would I have a preference for any specific visible frequency

favourite type of music? blink blink blink

do you like puzzles? yessssssssss. I like doing jigsaws just with my eyes; lovely memory of surveying the pieces of a 1000 piece tall ship one at a cousin's house while cousin watched, seeing a location, identifying the piece, extending my arm, picking it up, and putting the piece in the location without turning, testing, or being wrong. got a holy shit and felt much like a robot

any phobias? nope although I'm not great with going down stairs or escalators. but that's bc my balance is, historically, abysmal 🤣

favourite childhood sport? badminton? basketball maybe? not T-ball [I had a long-running inarticulable T-ball related crisis of the soul --- it's on a stand, if I miss it it would be so much more embarrassing than if someone threw it at me, it's right there --- and of course the best way to resolve this would be to practice, but no, I preferred to weep copiously every time I went up to bat, for reasons no one could discern, until they gently steered me away from home plate and I sat out]

do you talk to yourself? i joke that part of the reason I don't have an inner monologue is because it's an outer monologue

what movie(s) do you adore? Some Like It Hot, Bringing Up Baby, Noises Off!, Galaxy Quest, His Girl Friday [alright yes anything with Cary Grant], The Holiday, Wallace and Gromit the Curse of the Were-Rabbit

coffee or tea? yes to both. black coffee, green tea, unless I'm feeling like milk, sugar, honey, cream, herbal teas, chai, decaf--never rooibos though

first thing you wanted to be growing up? I just checked My Life Plan, to be sure. This is written in sparkly black crayon on both sides of a piece of now-faded mint green paper torn from a notepad. The same thing is written on both sides, except that on side A I clearly tried to write my full name (Ginevra), gave up, wrote "Gin", scratched out the excess letters, and added Disguise Scratches on the other side of my name to conceal the mistake. I was 4: Side A also has a couple of attempted spellings of "job", namely "Jod" and much smaller, tentative, "Joj".

Side B, the final draft, says:

Gin / 20 cats / 14 jobs / 8 kids / and 3 / dogs

These were full-time jobs/Jod/Joj, to be clear. One was The Mayor, one a doctor, one an artist, one an astronaut possibly? I didn't actually know 14 professions, but I was gonna keep my options open till I found some more.

I also had a fiancé at age 4. While I managed 14 full-time positions, his sole ambition was to drive the street-sweeping machine.

tagging in, post essay and no pressure: @safelycapricious @draskireis @leymonaide @banananutloaf4life @willidothefandango

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hi, it’s me, Fanfic Anon #2. I see there was a request for lingerie shopping. Hope the requesting Anon (and everyone else!) enjoys.

He was bright red as exited the store. He’d never done anything like that before (he wasn’t quite sure where to look most of the time either), so he was incredibly grateful for the salesgirl who took pity on him, coming to his rescue (even if she did slip her number on the back of his receipt, a discovery that evening that made him turn a different shade of embarrassed pink). But, the whole time, he kept focusing on the end goal, on the surprise. This was for Brigitte. And he would do anything for Brigitte.

His girlfriend had had a very bad week, and it had taken every single ounce of willpower in his body not to hop the first train home to her when he heard her crying her heart out to him over the line. He wanted to treat her this weekend, pamper her, show her just how much she was loved - prove to her that even when the rest of the world was on fire, when there was nothing else she could count on or be sure of, he would still be there, loving her, taking care of her, supporting her, sheltering her.

He had plans - romantic gestures big and small: tickets to a play he knows she adores, dinner reservations for a little bistro around the corner that she always said was “too much” for him to foot the bill on his stipend (smiling at the way he put his card number down, beating her to the check this time), and this. God, he hoped she liked the little set he had picked out. He told the salesgirl (through his embarrassed stammering) what she often wore, to make sure that whatever he bought her she would actually like, would have maybe picked out herself (and wouldn’t be something she would wear simply to humour him, because he knows that’s exactly the kind of thing she would do). He will admit, he did pick the colour to his tastes, even he knows she likes it too. He loves her in white (and he would be lying if he didn’t admit to frequently fantasizing about her in a particular kind of white dress walking towards him in the not-too-distant future).

He was so nervous she could physically feel him vibrating when he handed her the box. “Chéri, calm down,” she tried to soothe, reaching out with one hand to gently squeeze his reassuringly.

“I hope you like it,” he blushed profusely, refusing to meet her eyes.

“I’ll love it because you got it for me,” she reassured (just like he knew she would).

“I want you to actually like it, though,” he pouted. “Not to just humour me.”

“Okay, okay,” she conceded. “I’ll be honest. How about that?”

“That’s all I want. Now go on, open it!”

With that, she let go of his hand to gently slip off the lid, mouth falling open when she saw the contents inside - the intricate lace of the panties, the complicated zig zag of the bra straps, she wasn’t sure where to look. “Wow,” she whispered, stunned that he had done this for her.

“I had help,” he explained, taking her stunned silence as a bad sign rather than the positive one it was, “so if you don’t like it, blame the salesgirl. I explained to her your taste - or at least, I think it’s your taste because it’s what I see you wear when you’re with me, of course that could be things you bought previously, that you’re still wearing because this stuff is expensive and -“

“I love it,” she interrupted his nervous rambling. “Really, mon cœur, it’s perfect.”

“Really?” He asked, excited now as he looked into her eyes and saw how sincerely moved she was.

“Really,” she laughed gently. “And it is my taste,” she reassured. “I have a whole collection of things I’ve bought for you, so I guess it is more accurate to say it’s our taste?”

“I would love you in anything,” he swore vehemently.

“Want me test that theory, and go put it on?” She teased.

“Yes, please,” he begged with a needy whine, desperate to see it on now that he knew she liked it.

“One minute, chéri,” she promised, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before disappearing around the corner to change, leaving him bouncing now with a different kind of excited energy.

When she rounded the corner again, he stopped breathing, standing there in a stunned reverence until he finally made out her command to, “breathe. I can’t have you passing out now.”

“Wow, you look -“ he paused, trying to think of any words in any of the languages they spoke to convey what he was seeing right now. “I don’t think there are words for how stunning you look right now. Holy shit.” He paused for a minute, overwhelmed and desperate to take her in. “How are you mine?” He whispered in wonder and awe.

She blushed, pleased, as she approached him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she felt his settle around her waist, pulling her into him where she could feel the beginnings of the impact of his gift on him. “I’m all yours,” she smiled, leaning in to kiss him deeply, a subtle promise of more to come. “Always and only yours,” she vowed. “Now, come on, half the fun is unwrapping the gift.”

Helloo fanfic Anon #2! ❤️

The sweet potato and his romantic soul, adorable! Also adorable that he was pretty nervous about it hahaha the salesgirl ended up doing a pretty good job, even if she had no shame in writing down her phone number in the back of the receipt 😂

Thank you so much, fanfic Anon #2! ❤️❤️❤️

[adrianastrix]

Since I'm in a Writing Mood(TM) today, here comes a small piece of advice from a seasoned internet/writer person (I'm doing this for *checks notes* almost 25 years by now holy freaking cow), take it as you please:

If you want to be a writer, even a hobbist one, Do. Not. Settle. For. Mediocrity. In. Reading.

I'm not talking about only reading pretentious Classics(double-TM-somehow). I'm talking about reading books beyond what is on top charts or fandom talks.

Don't get me wrong: fandoms are great and those books can be well written and unexpectedly artistic and stylized. And even if they aren't, they are great sources of inspiration for your subject matter, so go ahead!

BUT. It's still good to do your writing homework, just like it's generally a good idea for an artist to study a bit of anatomy, a bit of perspective drawing and a little bit of colour theory to hone their craft, even when they only draw cartoons.

And WHAT is the writing homework, you ask?

Things that push the envelope artistically and break for any expected rule. Books that are NOTHING but exposition, but manage to still be good (or, at least, to be praised as a Classic(TM)). Books with no plot, just characters being characters. Books in which the main character is a inanimate object. Books that use invented words every sentence or more. Books that have a single period in a whole page. Books that are a single 100-page poem telling a story that would fill a whole paragraph in prose.

But not ANY book that does those things. Classics(TM). Books that school tells you to read because they ARE homework, they are MEANT to be studied for their techniques, not just read for leisure (unless you happen to enjoy its thing). I ASSURE you that if you read those books in a spirit of "let's see how this Great Author(TM) handles this thing" instead of "let's have fun for a couple hours", you will be more pleasantly surprised than not. Many of the classics I read weren't things I enjoyed, but I blazed through them because the writing was THAT good.

It's hard for me to recommend English classics for writers because I'm a Brazilian born and raised, and our Classics are different, and most of them are character-based fiction with little to no regard to exposition of the environment or plot. Most of our literary icons have never been actually described in their books, and if they have, it was just by a few passing details scattered through the whole thing. For instance, we only know Capitu's appearance a bit because Bentinho is a creep (whoever knows what I'm referencing KNOWS).

Our biggest Brazilian fiction name is Machado de Assis. Lots of people (understandably) hate reading him in high school because language teachers rarely teach us to read and comment a book for study rather than enjoyment (or, if they do, we are rarely interested because we don't usually see what we can learn from it and how to use it in our own writing). But BOY, Machado is a World Classic(double-TM). Not because he writes in a complex, classy way or anything.

It's because he is HILARIOUS. And often in meta ways that will DESTROY you, like the chapter he left blank so you could recover for the one before. And his irony is a finely sharpened sabre, it cuts so deeply that it tickles your liver. Chef's kiss. Sure, he uses 19th century slang, so it feels old-timey and, at times, hard to understand without a dictionary nearby, but ANY effort you take to understand him is paid in TRIPLE OR MORE.

Couldn't recommend more. Look for his books in English, they are worth it, and I've heard that the latest translations are good.

My other venerated prose Classic Author is, sadly, basically untranslatable to English without serious effort: Guimarães Rosa. I SWEAR TO GOD that I read a 500-or-so pages book from him in little more than a sitting. And I barely understood what I read in an intellectual manner, but by the end, I nebulously KNEW what had happened without remembering, like someone trying to remember a dream they just had.

It was one of the best literary experiences I had, but I fear it will never be the same again.

But say that you don't want to spend hours on weird experimental novels absorbing their techniques and convention-breaking (sometimes convention-SETTING for being so good) powerful imagery. Then, at the very least, take this second piece of advice:

Read poetry.

Not any poetry. Artsy-fartsy, teacher-brought-to-class poetry. Don't stop to the couple of poems of that author you were forced to read. Comb through their library for themes you might enjoy. Poets are usually notorious for how horny and/or existentially terrifying their poems are, so TAKE NOTES.

Poetry is playing with words transcending the narrative mold. In poetry, words don't have to tell stories, words don't have to adhere to traditional meanings and spellings or even pronunciations. Words don't even have to have any of those things, they can become drawings in a piece of art that reminds us all that writing is a very specialized form of drawing.

Rhyming poetry, in particular, often leads poets to pair ideas that would never be paired together just because they want a rhyme that doesn't sound stale. Or because they have to fit an idea in a set amount of syllabes with the tonic in this fixed position, so they have to get CLEVER about how to word a sentence.

Picking a classic poetry mold that you are unfamilliar with and trying to write even a small poem in it is a writing exercise that might improve your writing more than 50.000 words of vanilla prose (believe me, I was the crazy one that decide to write Alex and Rose's chapter titles in Alexandrine verses because of the pun - and God Gracious in Heaven, it took me longer to write the 10-verse poem than it took me to write half the book).

To wrap it up: read authors doing crazy stuff. You will see that most of the "boring stuff in traditional books" is boring because the larger your intended audience, the less daring your publisher allows you to be. You don't need to reinvent the wheel: the world is chock full of crazy writers writing crazy experimental stuff just RIPE to be used in your fanfiction for maximum gut-wrenching or knee-slapping. New ways of describing things (or not caring a flying rat about describing anything), new ways of writing dialogues, new words, new ways of creating words, weird paragraphs, blank chapters and sentences so beautiful and poignant that you will forget everything else about the book and still be haunted by those words (mine are some of the closing sentences of Kafka's The Metamorphosis *shivers* - or the arc words "he died in the wrong lane, messing up traffic" in the song Construção - a brilliant piece of tragic narrative poetry, elevated by being turned into a cheerful samba-like song).

If anything, it will improve your writing, keep you from always copying an author who copies an author who copies classics. And you might find a WORLD of fiction that is more challenging and/or will tickle your artistic appreciation in different ways that canned books with the same old tricks, the same old silent pleas of "please adapt me into a film/netflix script/RPG manual/visual novel/comic/fanart/any other visual media, since I didn't have the money to comission it to begin with!" that excess visual descriptions often exsude.

Good luck in making your readers feel what is like when a cookie crumble in your mouth not like it should, but like a great glacier cracking, releasing a waterfall of filling that gives that bite a flavour of coarse cement and butterflies. Make them feel their stomachs sucking themselves in, as if they were sealed vacuum bags, in antecipation of swallowing that... stuff. Let them know that the feeling of coarse cement and live butterflies WILL transcend the flavour once the swallowing begins. I didn't say the butterflies were live? My bad!

I think a big part of why I read way more fanfiction than books is that there’s just a hell of a lot less exposition

the first 10 pages of most books are always “these are the main characters and here’s some background on each of them and this is the setting etc etc” and it’s such a fucking hassle getting to the plot sometimes

fanfic is just like “fuck it you know all of this already let’s go”

[moonchild-in-blue]

Those emoji asks are so cute, it was hard to choose which ones to send you; I think 🏵️,🍄, 🫐, 🥀 seem interesting!

Thank you for the asks Kay!! They really are super cute, aren't they? 🥺

🏵️ what flower symbolizes you? if none come to mind, what’s your birth flower and do you identify with its meaning?

Well, my middle name is Yasmin, after both the Disney princess and the jasmin flower. It means "gift from God", which I personally really love! I feel very connected to it, and I looove the smell! My mother once gave a really expensive little flask of jasmin perfume that I wear every year on my birthday. I'm planning to get them tattooed on me one day, they're so cute and dainty 🥺 My actual favourite flowers though, would probably peonies (and tulips!)

🍄 if you had to live the rest of your life as either a gnome, a fairy, or another woodland creature which would you choose and where would you live?

FAIRY 🧚‍♀️!! I love fairies SO SO MUCH, they're super cute! I'd love nothing more than be a tiny fairy or pixie, dressed in leaves and flower petals, sleeping on top of mushrooms and hollowed-out trees 🥺 I'd probably choose somewhere where there's plenty of tall, giant trees, moss, and flowers all year round, maybe close to a stream? If not a fairy, then probably a woodland nymph! I could bathe in rivers by the moonlight and feel the earth with my bare feet. That's the dream.

🫐 do you consider yourself a passionate person? if so, about what topics?

Ha, if by passionate you mean completely and totally obsessed and unhinged, then yes. No, but really. Asides from the ~obvious~ (and excluding cliché answers like art and literature etc), something that I'm actually super passionate about would be floriography (flower language), and colour theory! It's not super surprising if you pay attention, but I feel like they're somewhat niche topics? I also adore analog photography - in fact I'm thinking of reviving my photography side blog and picking up my cameras again.

[oh I just thought of something else - contemporary dance! I LOVE seeing choreographies and performances on it (and love love when it's combined with ballet). There's this indie artist that I really like, Ry X, who has collaborated with a dancer couple (?) for his last album. The song "Your Love" features them in the video - it's truly beautiful to watch and peaceful to hear.]

🥀 what keeps you motivated/helps boost your mood when you’re feeling off?

Again, I feel like this is a super boring answer, but just looking/interacting with art! More specifically, I like to listen to my favourite albums whenever I'm feeling a bit more droopy, and watching my fav comfort movies. My personal favourites for situations like that will forever and always be Stuck In Love and It's Kind of a Funny Story. They're very very close to my heart and I always feel renewed when I'm finished. I know thar for a lot of people, talking with friends or loved ones would be the obvious choice, but I really am an introvert through and through - I always feel better by myself (even though I love my friends!). Reading also helps - whether be poetry, or just studying about my favourite artists' life and work.

[fannish-karmiya]

Was Lan Wangji Deterred from Wei Wuxian by Familial Disapproval?

Lan Wangji's failure to stand by Wei Wuxian in his first life until it was too late is often discussed. He struggled with defying his family and society in order to do the right thing, and he had to learn the importance of following your conscience rather than blindly obeying the rules. All this is true, but I think there's another angle to this which hasn't really been considered: familial disapproval.

After arguing for years over his cultivation and gaining a reputation for hating each other, in reality things were starting to improve between Wangxian in the last few years of Wei Wuxian's life. And yet after the Yiling date, where they got on well and never argued, Lan Wangji vanishes from Wei Wuxian's life until nearly the end.

I'm starting to wonder if a significant factor in Lan Wangji leaving Yiling and not returning for a year or more is actually his growing awareness that his family disapproved of Wei Wuxian, and that he felt there was no way forward for their relationship.

I do want to note that I'm theorising here; we're never given a good look into Lan Wangji's head during this part of the story. But I do think that this theory has textual backing, and will try to explore that here.

Improving Relations

First, I want to lay out that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji's relationship was improving during this period. Lan Wangji seems to have been consciously aware of the romantic nature of his feelings for a long time, unlike Wei Wuxian who was much more confused about his sexuality. They also have a history of arguing over Wei Wuxian's cultivation, which was well-known. But their last three interactions before Nightless City are actually increasingly positive.

First, there is the night hunt on Phoenix Mountain. Wei Wuxian is playful and flirtatious, tossing a flower at Lan Wangji along with the maidens:

The more daring ones, however, had already run to the edge of the watching towers, tossing over the buds and blossoms that they had prepared beforehand. A rain of flowers immediately scattered down from the sky. To toss flowers at beautiful-looking men and women in expression of admiration was a tradition.

[...]

However, Lan WangJi suddenly raised his hand, stopping a flower tossed over from behind him.

He looked back. Over at the side of the YunmengJiang Sect’s riding formation, which hadn’t departed yet, Jiang Cheng clicked his tongue impatiently, seated at the front. However, the person beside him sat on a horse with black, gleaming hair. His elbow was at the head of the horse as he looked to the side as though nothing happened, talking and laughing with two slender-bodied maidens.

Lan XiChen saw that Lan WangJi had drawn the reins and ceased to move forward, “WangJi, what happened?”

Lan WangJi, “Wei Ying.”

Wei WuXian finally turned around, face full of surprise, “What? HanGuang-Jun, did you call me? What’s up?”

Holding the flower, Lan WangJi seemed to be quite cold. His tone seemed cold as well, “Was it you?”

Wei WuXian immediately denied it, “No, it wasn’t.”

The maidens beside him spoke at once, “Don’t believe him. It was him!”

Wei WuXian, “How could you treat a good person like this? I’m getting angry!”

Giggling, the maidens pulled their reins and went to the formations of their own sects. Lan WangJi lowered the hand that he held the flower with and shook his head.

[...]

When they slowly rode into the distance, carrying with them the clouds of petals and fragrance, Jiang Cheng glanced at the colourful sea of handkerchiefs waving on the watching towers before turning to Wei WuXian, “Why are you throwing out flowers along with the girls?”

Wei WuXian, “I think he looks nice. Can’t I throw a few as well?”

(Chapter 69, Exiled Rebels translation)

Up next, Lan Wangji seeks Wei Wuxian out while he's blindfolded and kisses him. Wei Wuxian actually rather seems to enjoy it, even though he doesn't know who it is.

From the kiss, Wei WuXian’s entire body felt limp. Energy came into his arms only after he leaned against the tree for some more time.

Raising his hand, he ripped the ribbon away only to be stung by the glare of the sudden sunlight. He finally managed to open his eyes, but nothing was around him. Bushes, trees, grasses, vines—no second person.

Wei WuXian was still somewhat confused. He sat on the branch for a while longer. When he jumped off, he felt weakness under his legs, almost light-headed.

He supported himself on the tree trunk at once, cursing at how useless he was in silence. He had been kissed so hard that his legs were giving out. Looking up, he glanced around the area, but there was no trace of another person. The previous scene seemed to be an absurd yet erotic daydream. Wei WuXian couldn’t help but think of the legends of those mountain creatures.

But he was certain that it wasn’t some mountain creature. It had to be a person.

Recalling what it had felt like, formless tickles crawled up all the way to the tip of his heart. Wei WuXian touched his chest with his right hand, but found that the flower that had been there was gone.

He searched the ground for a while. It wasn’t there either. It couldn’t have disappeared out of thin air, could it?

Wei WuXian remained paused for a long while. He touched his lips unconsciously, finally managing to say a while later, “How could this be… This was my…”

(Chapter 69, Exiled Rebels translation)

He's extremely flustered, and even tries to search for the person who kissed him...and clearly not in anger.

The tension between them continues later when Wei Wuxian comes across Lan Wangji:

He stood still for a while, clenching his sword. His grip was tight, exerting so much strength that his knuckles grew white. As though he had somewhat calmed down, he suddenly looked over again, his gaze pinning Wei WuXian.

Wei WuXian felt a strange, unexplainable sensation. His eyes had been covered by the ribbon for over two hours. The sunlight was still a bit too dazzling for him. After he took off the ribbon, his eyes keep on tearing up. His lips were somewhat swollen as well. Wei WuXian felt that what he looked like right now must be terrible. Being stared at so hard, he couldn’t help but touched his chin, “Lan Zhan?”

“…”

Lan WangJi, “Nothing.”

[...]

Seeing that his expression was finally returning to normal and that he was most likely fine, Wei WuXian finally stopped worrying. Although he was curious about what had happened, it wouldn’t be good if he intervened in it too much, and thus he began to chat. Lan WangJi refused to talk in the beginning. Afterward, he finally replied a few short words.

A hint of heat and a swelling sensation on Wei WuXian’s lips kept on reminding him he had just lost the first kiss that he had been guarding for twenty years. He was kissed until his head was dizzy, but he didn’t even know whom the other person was and what she looked like. Just how could it be?

Wei WuXian sighed slowly. He suddenly spoke up, “Lan Zhan, have you ever kissed someone?”

[...]

Wei WuXian grinned, face full of understanding. He closed his eyes, “You haven’t, have you? I knew it. I was just asking. You don’t need to be so angry.”

Lan WangJi, “How do you know?”

Wei WuXian, “What do you think? With such a stiff face wherever you go, who’d dare kiss you? Of course, I wouldn’t expect you to initiate a kiss either. I think that you’ll have to keep your first kiss until the end of your life, hahahaha…”

He gloated alone. Lan WangJi’s face was still expressionless, but he seemed to have relaxed somewhat.

After he had laughed enough, Lan WangJi spoke up, “What about you?”

Wei WuXian raised a brow, “Me? Of course I’ve had lots of experience.”

Lan WangJi’s face, having relaxed a moment earlier, was immediately covered in a layer of snow and frost.

(Chapter 69, Exiled Rebels translation)

Even though Lan Wangji is still being quite tsundere, there's definitely an improvement in their conversation here over, say, when they were teenagers. And Wei Wuxian also reveals that he doesn't know it was Lan Wangji who kissed him, since he says that he thinks Lan Wangji has never kissed anyone.

After this they run across Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan, and things get sidetracked. However, two months later, Lan Wangji decides to visit Wei Wuxian in Yunmeng, and finds himself inundated with flowers:

Suddenly, however, from ahead of him came a young, grinning girl dressed in vibrant colors. In a hurry, she brushed shoulders with him, but suddenly tossed something toward his body.

Nimbly, Lan WangJi caught the object. He looked down to find the bud of a flower as white as snow.

[...]

One after another, Lan WangJi had already gathered a bundle of colorful flowers, though he still stood expressionlessly in the middle of the streets. [...] As Lan WangJi pondered with downcast eyes, he suddenly felt something weigh onto his head. He raised his hand. A pink medicinal peony, at the peak of its bloom, had landed flawlessly on the side of his head.

From on top of a building came a grinning voice, “Lan Zhan—ah, no, HanGuang-Jun—what a coincidence!”

Lan WangJi looked up to see an airy pavilion lined with layers and layers of gauze curtains. A black-robed man lay on his side over a red lacquer divan. One hand of his slender body dangled down, holding a fine liquor jar made of black clay. Half of the jar’s crimson tassel wrapped around his arm, while the other half swayed back and forth in the air.

Lan WangJi didn’t leave with a cold face, contrary to their conjectures. He only said, “It is you.”

Wei WuXian, “It’s me! Someone who does such a ridiculous thing has to be me. Where did you find the time to come to Yunmeng? If you’re not busy, come up here and have a drink?”

A few girls encircled him, all cramped onto the divan, laughing at those down below, “Yeah, Young Master, come up here and have a drink!”

The girls were the ones who tossed flowers at him earlier on. There was no need to say who was the person that told them to do such a thing.

Lowering his head, Lan WangJi turned around and proceeded to leave. Seeing that there was no reaction, Wei WuXian wasn’t surprised at all. With a click of his tongue, he rolled down the divan and drank a mouthful of the liquor in his jar. Yet, a few moments later, a series of footsteps came, lighter than heavy, calmer than rushed.

With steady steps, Lan WangJi walked up the stairs and parted the curtains as he entered. The bejeweled strings clinked crisply, almost melodically.

He placed the bundle of flowers that had hit him onto the small table, “Your flowers.”

Wei WuXian slanted his body until he could reach the table, “You’re welcome. I’ll give them to you. These are your flowers now.”

Lan WangJi, “Why?”

Wei WuXian, “Why not? I just wanted to see how you’d react to such a thing.”

Lan WangJi, “Ridiculous.”

Wei WuXian, “Ridiculous is exactly what I am. Or else I wouldn’t have been so bored as to get you up here… Hey, hey, hey, don’t go. You’re already here. You won’t have a few sips?”

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

Up next, though, Lan Wangji starts getting on Wei Wuxian's case about his cultivation again:

As he expected, Lan WangJi said, slowly, “You should not accompany yourself with inhuman beings for so long.”

The smiles of the girls who were tittering around Wei WuXian immediately disappeared.

[...]

Lan WangJi turned around and walked a step closer to him, “Wei Ying, it is still best if you come back to Gusu with me.”

“…” Wei WuXian, “I really haven’t heard this in a long time. The Sunshot Campaign is already over. I thought you’ve given up long ago.”

Lan WangJi, “Last time, during the hunt on Phoenix Mountain, have you noticed certain signs?”

Wei WuXian, “What signs?”

Lan WangJi, “The loss of control.”

[...]

Lan WangJi, “It is not too late yet. In the future, even if you regret…”

Without waiting for him to finish talking, Wei WuXian’s expression changed. He suddenly stood up, “Lan Zhan!”

Behind him, red light had begun to glow within the eyes of the girls. Wei WuXian, “Stop it.”

Thus, the girls lowered their heads and retreated, but still they stared unwaveringly at Lan WangJi. Wei WuXian turned to him, “What can I say? Even though I don’t think that I’ll regret it, I don’t like it when people take guesses at how I’m going to be in the future, either.”

After a while of silence, Lan WangJi replied, “I am the one who was out of line.”

Wei WuXian, “Not really. But, indeed, looks like I shouldn’t have invited you up here. Today was because of my presumption.”

Lan WangJi, “It was not.”

Wei WuXian smiled, his words polite, “Really? That’s good, then.”

He finished in one gulp the half cup of liquor that was left, “But, no matter what, I should still thank you. I’ll take it as you’re concerned for me.”

Wei WuXian waved his hand, “Then, I won’t bother HanGuang-Jun any longer. Let’s meet again if the chance comes up.”

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

There's a lot going on in this conversation, and Lan Wangji still makes a mess of it. But he does, I want to point out, recognise that he went too far and apologises, which is a significant improvement over past arguments. He also responded positively to the flowers Wei Wuxian tossed at him. Back when he was a teen, he would have probably stormed off in a huff at this flirtation; instead now, he walks upstairs to greet Wei Wuxian and hand him the flowers back, in almost a reciprocal gesture.

While he still has a long way to go, he really seems to be trying to correct his behaviour.

Finally, their next proper meeting is in Yiling, a few months after Wei Wuxian's liberation of the Wens from Qiongqi Path. Lan Wangji buys A-Yuan a bunch of toys and then is dragged into having lunch with Wei Wuxian and A-Yuan. Their interactions over lunch are all very positive and friendly, and then when Wei Wuxian's warning talisman goes off, he accompanies him to the Burial Mounds to check on things. He then helps him with the released corpses and Wen Ning.

As though he was hit by a large boulder, Wei WuXian flew back from the force, crashing onto a tree. He felt warmth rise up his throat and cursed. Lan WangJi saw this happen just as he returned. His expression changed at once and he rushed in front of him. Wen Qing had just shoved Wen Yuan into another’s arms. She wanted to check on Wei WuXian’s injuries, but he got there before she could. She paused with surprise. Lan WangJi was almost embracing Wei WuXian as he held his hand and passed spiritual energy to him.

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

In the end, the combined playing of both Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian helps Wen Ning awaken, and while he reunites with his sister, Wangxian go into the cave to talk. At this point, Lan Wangji expresses concern for Wei Wuxian's cultivation again:

Whether it was because of the lighting or not, Wei WuXian’s complexion seemed unusually pale. His smile seemed to have some eeriness to it as well. Lan WangJi gazed at him quietly, “Wei Ying.”

Wei WuXian, “What?”

Lan WangJi, “Can you really control it?”

Wei WuXian, “Control what? You mean Wen Ning? Of course I can. Look, he’s already returned to consciousness.” Wei WuXian gloated, “An unprecedented fierce corpse.”

Lan WangJi, “What would you do if he lost consciousness again?”

Wei WuXian, “I already have experience with dealing with him when he’s out of consciousness. I’m the one who controls him. As long as nothing happens to me, nothing will happen to him either.”

After a while of silence, Lan WangJi asked, “But what if something does happen to you?”

Wei WuXian, “It won’t.“

Lan WangJi, “How could you be sure?”

Wei WuXian’s voice was firm, “It won’t, and it can’t.”

Lan WangJi, “Do you intend on staying like this from now on?”

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Now, some other interesting things go on here: there are quite a few hints that Lan Wangji is starting to suspect something about Wei Wuxian's core, for example. But that's not the focus of this essay, so I want to skip ahead a bit.

Just as everyone is cheering up and chatting, and he is invited to stay longer, Lan Wangji instead decides to leave:

Laughter was just starting to fill the Demon-Slaughtering Cave when Lan WangJi turned around without saying anything and proceeded to walk out of the cave.

Both Wen Qing and Wen Ning paused in surprise. Wei WuXian, “Lan Zhan?”

Lan WangJi’s footsteps hesitated. No emotions could be distinguished from his tone, “It is time for me to return.”

[...]

Lan WangJi stayed silent.

Under Wei WuXian’s arm, Wen Yuan looked up at him, “Brother, you won’t be eating here?”

Lan WangJi glanced at him. He reached out and stroked his head softly.

Wen Yuan thought that he was going to stay. His face brightened up, whispering, “A-Yuan heard a secret. They said that there’ll be lots of good food today…”

Wei WuXian, “This brother here has food waiting for him in his own home. He won’t be staying.”

[...]

A moment later, Wei WuXian spoke up, “Lan Zhan, you asked me if I intended on staying like this from now on. To be honest, I’d like to ask something as well. What can I do apart from this?”

He continued, “Give up the demonic path? Then what about the people on this mountain?

“Give them up? I won’t be able to do it. I believe that if you were I, you wouldn’t be able to do it either.”

He continued, “Nobody can give me a nice, broad road to walk on. A road where I could protect those I want to protect without having to cultivate the ghostly path.”

Lan WangJi gazed at him. He didn’t reply, but both of them knew the answer in their hearts.

There was no such road.

No solution existed.

Wei WuXian spoke slowly, “Thank you for keeping me company today. Thank you for telling me the news about my shijie’s marriage too. But, let the self judge the right and the wrong, let others decide to praise or to blame, let gains and losses remain uncommented on. I, too, know what I should and shouldn’t do. I believe that I’ll be able to control it as well.”

As if he’d anticipated such an attitude since a long time ago, Lan WangJi nodded slightly and closed his eyes.

And that marked their farewell.

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Here, Lan Wangji may still not accept Wei Wuxian's cultivation, but he acknowledges its necessity, which is a significant improvement over his prior stance. He also tacitly agrees when Wei Wuxian says that Lan Wangji would do the same in his place, and that he thinks he is doing the right thing. The two part ways, and Lan Wangji honestly seems...quite pained.

I always wondered why he never visited again after this, even though at least a year must have passed between Jiang Yanli's marriage (a week after this visit) and Nightless City. Especially since their prior two interactions had been significantly improved over their years during the war, and are also very romantically and sexually charged. Why the sudden shift in tone?

And that's when it occurred to me; perhaps Lan Wangji was saying goodbye, just like Jiang Yanli when she visits later to show Wei Wuxian her wedding dress.

Familial Disapproval

We know, of course, that Lan Qiren has always disliked Wei Wuxian, from the very first day he showed up at Cloud Recesses for the lectures at fifteen. Not only does he dislike him, though; he actively disapproves of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji being friends or indeed interacting at all.

After Lan QiRen left Qinghe and returned to Gusu, he didn’t make Wei WuXian go to the Library Pavilion to copy the Lan Sect’s sect rules again, but simply gave him a harsh scolding in front of everyone. Without the parts where he quoted ancient scriptures, it all boiled down to how he had never seen someone so unruly and shameless before, so please get lost, as soon and as far as possible. Please don’t go near the other pupils, and especially refrain from tainting his favorite one—Lan WangJi.

(Chapter 18, Exiled Rebels translation)

Furthermore, Lan Qiren eventually instructs Lan Wangji to stop attending classes; specifically to keep him apart from Wei Wuxian:

On the second day, Lan WangJi finally stopped having classes with them.

Wei WuXian’s seat changed three times. [...] When Lan QiRen was teaching in the front, Lan WangJi sat as straight as a wall made of iron. Behind him, Wei WuXian would either sleep like a log or draw scribbles as he pleased. Aside from Lan WangJi occasionally blocking the crumpled pieces of paper he threw toward other people, it was an excellent place to be at. However, soon afterward, Lan QiRen became aware of this trick, so he switched their seats. Ever since then, whenever Wei WuXian’s sitting posture became a bit tilted, he could feel a cold, sharp gaze staring at his back. Lan QiRen would also throw him a glowering look. It was extremely uncomfortable for him to be monitored by the old one and the young one all the time. Moreover, after the Pornography Case and the Rabbit Case, Lan QiRen was certain that Wei WuXian was a basin full of jet-black dye, and feared that his favorite pupil would be stained, which was why he hastened to tell Lan WangJi to stop going to lessons.

(Chapter 18, Exiled Rebels translation)

Meanwhile, I've actually discussed Lan Xichen's feelings on Wangxian's friendship extensively in another essay, so I won't repeat myself and instead will direct you there. The gist of it is that while he starts off being supportive of a friendship during the lectures, he becomes more ambivalent afterwards and seems to eventually come to dislike Wei Wuxian.

However, Lan Xichen tends to cover his feelings with a smile, and I don't think Lan Wangji was aware that Lan Xichen didn't like Wei Wuxian and would disapprove of a relationship between them...until the banquet at Koi Tower when Wei Wuxian arrives to ask Jin Zixun to tell him where Wen Ning is.

Before Wei Wuxian arrives, the Twin Jades have this conversation:

With a twist of his wrist, Lan XiChen swept over one of the snow-colored flowers, its petals in full bloom. The motion was so gentle that not even a dewdrop fell. He spoke, “WangJi, is there something on your mind? Why have you been so tense?”

Of course, in most people’s eyes, the ‘tenseness’ probably looked no different than Lan WangJi’s other expressions.

Lan WangJi’s brows sunk low as he shook his head. A few moments later, he replied in a low voice, “Brother, I want to take someone back to the Cloud Recesses.”

Lan XiChen was surprised, “Take someone back to the Cloud Recesses?”

Lan WangJi nodded, his expression pensive. After a pause, he continued, “Take him back… and hide him somewhere.”

Lan XiChen’s eyes immediately widened.

Ever since their mother passed away, this brother of his had gradually become more and more withdrawn. Apart from going on night-hunts, he’d shut himself in his room all day long, reading, meditating, practicing calligraphy, playing his guqin, and improving his cultivation. He never talked much to anyone except for him, his elder brother. Yet, this was the first time that such words found their way outside of his lips.

Lan XiChen, “Hide him somewhere?”

Lan WangJi frowned softly. He began again, “But he is not willing.”

(Chapter 72, Exiled Rebels translation)

Given their parents' marriage, it's likely that Lan Xichen at this point may have even started to suspect that Lan Wangji felt more than friendship for Wei Wuxian.

After Wei Wuxian obtains the information he needs, he leaves, and this exchange happens:

Lan XiChen was the only one who exclaimed, “Brother!”

Jin GuangYao, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Brother, please be seated.”

It was unsuitable for Lan XiChen to comment on Jin ZiXun, so he took out a snow-colored handkerchief and passed it to him, “Go retire and change your clothes.”

Jin GuangYao took the handkerchief, wiping away as he forced a smile, “I can’t leave, can I?”

He was the only one left to clean up the mess. How could he leave the scene? He reassured the crowd as he ranted, completely exhausted, “Young Master Wei really is too impulsive. How could he speak in such a way in front of so many sects?”

Lan WangJi spoke coldly, “Was he wrong?”

Jin GuangYao paused almost unnoticeably. He immediately laughed, “Haha. Yes, he’s right. But it’s because he’s right that he can’t say it in front of them, correct?”

Lan XiChen seemed as if he was deep in thought, “Young Master Wei’s heart really has changed.”

Hearing this, pain flashed across the light pair of eyes under Lan WangJi’s knitted brows.

(Chapter 72, Exiled Rebels translation)

There are quite a few things to note here. Firstly, of course, is that Lan Xichen speaks negatively of Wei Wuxian in front of Lan Wangji, also expressing disapproval of his actions. Lan Wangji reacts to this with pain, and his earlier cold challenge to Jin Guangyao ("Was he wrong?") shows that he is not this time pained because he agrees with Lan Xichen or is worried about Wei Wuxian's cultivation. He thinks that Wei Wuxian was right to make the accusations he did (about the mistreatment of the Wens and the hypocrisy of the cultivation world).

Instead, it seems to me that Lan Wangji is pained...because his brother expressed disapproval of Wei Wuxian.

His uncle has always been disapproving, but as far as Lan Wangji knew, his brother was at least vaguely supportive. But suddenly, after they had a conversation where Lan Wangji intimated that he wanted to bring Wei Wuxian to Cloud Recesses (and given the parallels to his parents' marriage, conducted to save Lan-furen's life, this clearly has an undertone of romantic intention), Lan Xichen then turns around and openly expresses disapproval of Wei Wuxian.

It is entirely possible, I think, that at this point Lan Wangji realised, to his dismay, that both members of his nuclear family disapproved of Wei Wuxian. If he had the support of his brother, perhaps his uncle could be persuaded. Especially since, as sect leader, Lan Xichen technically has more authority. But now it has become clear to Lan Wangji that he cannot rely on his brother's support, either.

Perhaps he feared that there was no way forward for him and Wei Wuxian, hence the sense of finality to his visit in Yiling, and his lack of any subsequent visits.

At this point, there would have only been two ways forward for him in the face of familial disapproval: pursuing a clandestine affair, or leaving his sect entirely in order to join Wei Wuxian in the Burial Mounds.

I don't think that Lan Wangji at this point in his life was ready for either one. Both are things his family would heavily disapprove of, which could damage or ruin his relationship with them. Lan Wangji is only twenty one right now, and he's had a far more sheltered life than Wei Wuxian. To that younger Lan Wangji, things must have seemed very hopeless.

So, I posit, he visited Wei Wuxian in Yiling only to see him once more and check how he is doing. He didn't visit again because he never intended to visit again; he thought any chance between them was lost.

Of course, then Wei Wuxian's life was endangered, and finally his priorities shifted and he realised what really mattered: standing by the man he loves, no matter what. His actions at Nightless City show that.

And Lan Xichen's rant at Guanyin Temple shows that indeed, Lan Wangji's family likely would not have approved (the deaths at Nightless City irregardless; Wei Wuxian acted in self-defence and defense of the fifty innocent Wens the sects gathered there to kill in the first place, and need I note that the Lans were in attendance at the pledge conference with that agenda?):

“Thirty-three whip scars! He was punished in one go, once for each person. You should know how much it hurts when it lands on your body, for how long you have to rest to recover! After he went out of his way to send you back to Burial Mound and returned in such low spirits to receive his punishment, how long he kneeled before the Wall of Rules! I told him when I went to see him, Young Master Wei had already made a grave mistake, there was no use augmenting it. But he said… that he could not say with certainty whether what you did was right or wrong, but no matter what, he was willing to be responsible for all of the consequences alongside you."

[...]

“With the ways in which he looked and talked to you when he saved you and hid you in that cave, even someone who was blind or deaf could perceive his feelings, which was why my uncle was in such anger. WangJi was a model for the disciples when he was young, and a prominent cultivator when he grew up. In his whole life he had been honest and righteous and immaculate—you were the only mistake he made!

(Chapter 99, Exiled Rebels translation)

[hes-writer]

Confessions: A ‘Favourite’ Extra

Summary: beatrice graduates and dad!harry is not invited

Warnings: angst!

Word Count: 3305 words

A/N: this is part of the ‘Favourite’ universe :D this scene takes place sometime between the first and second part! please read them before reading this.

Part One | Part Two

_____

Graduation.

Through Beatrice’s 18-years of living, she did not think that the celebration of liberation would be so sour. The day started off like any normal day. That is, except, she did not have to deliberately avoid the areas of the house that her dad, Harry, was in. It was strange that she had to feel uncomfortable in her own home.

For this special event, Beatrice had initially bought only three tickets for Ruby, Caleb and her mum, Y/N. Her dad had a packed schedule of promoting his newest album anyway so Beatrice thought that it wouldn’t even matter. She didn’t think he would want to come anyway. If Beatrice knew anything about her father is that he never really cared much about what went on in her life.

Beatrice supposes that it was okay. She had a whole lifetime to get used to it. A full lifestyle living on the edge because she didn’t know when her dad would clap-back with an insult for no reason. However, it didn’t mean that the spike in pain hurt any less. Don’t get her wrong; she was grateful for Y/N being around and involved. But Beatrice sometimes wondered how it would feel like to be wrapped in a fatherly embrace or be guided with wisdom and courage.

She really couldn’t remember the last time Harry did anything that made Beatrice feel like his daughter. Aside from the family photos they took on during the holidays or when celebrating whatever work achievement he managed to snag--that was the only time where Beatrice would feel Harry’s hand resting on her shoulder.

___

“Can I get one?” Ruby asked, tugging on the coloured strings of Beatrice’s cap. Her small body was being held by her older sister while Y/N took photos of the three siblings.

“Caleb, put your phone away please,” Y/N requested, shaking her head at the way the young boy groaned. Nonetheless, he followed the instruction.

"You’re lucky I love you or I would not have shown up,” Caleb grumbled, offering a sweet smile afterwards to suggest that he was joking. The three siblings posed for the camera, Beatrice trying hard not to let Ruby tilt her square cap.

Between a plastered smile, Beatrice replied, “Probably why dad isn’t here,”

Caleb widened his eyes significantly. Though, it seemed conspicuous to Y/N who was busy figuring out how to brighten the screen.

“That’s not true, sissy. He’s just busy,”

Beatrice chuckled, shrugging off the comforting hand of her younger brother, “Always busy but never when one of you have something going on,”

“It’s just a coincidence,”

“Yeah, sure,”

Caleb frowned at her response, focusing her attention on Ruby’s babbles. He almost spilled the surprise that their dad was going to watch Beatrice cross the stage. Caleb knew how his sisters felt about Harry and he hoped that his appearance would help patch things up between them.

Caleb walked over to Y/N, “Are you sure that Dad’s coming?”

Y/N nodded, “Yes, he said he’s looking for parking now,”

Caleb bit his lip nervously, “Do you think she’ll be surprised?”

——

“Graduate with honours, Beatrice Y/LN,”

Applause filled the venue as Beatrice walked up the steep steps of the stage. A shy smile was placed on her lips when she caught sight of the projector screen showcasing her achievements for her senior year.

In the audience, both Harry and Y/N were confused as to why Beatrice used her mother's name to be announced. The cinch in Y/N’s brow smoothed out when the principal continued speaking. Harry, however, couldn’t help the questioning frown.

“Top Chemistry. Top Biology. Overall Best Science Student. Gold Volunteer Badge. Level 4 Music Theory. Beatrice has been excelling both academically and musically while serving the community,”

Beatrice squinted at the bright lights, placing her diploma and speech on the podium. She had never been good at public speaking. However, her announced name gave Beatrice newfound confidence. It’s just her. All her achievements wouldn’t be credited to her father just because he was Harry Styles.

“Hi, uh,” She cleared her throat, “I’m Beatrice Y/LN and I’m very honoured to be standing in front of you today,”

Her speech was short and to the point; thanking her fellow classmates even though there were very few to thank personally. There were a few jokes in between and some nostalgic memories about various school events throughout the year. Beatrice mentioned remarks to her teachers who helped her achieve high grades. Lastly, she thanked her family for supporting  her

“I’d like to thank my family. My brother, Caleb. My sister, Ruby and my Mum. You guys have been so wonderful to me and I hope that I made you proud,”

Y/N was tearing up with a hand clasped over her mouth. She could not believe that her oldest daughter was off to university in a few weeks. Beatrice’s work ethic was unmatched and it showed in her getting the recognition that she deserved.

There was a pregnant pause before applause filled the space again. Despite switching her name last minute, everyone in her school knew that Beatrice was a Styles kid. They were probably waiting for her to mention him in her speech. But Beatrice felt no need to mention the man that had done nothing for her. He wasn’t even here.

“Thank you and congratulations, everyone!”

Harry slumped lower in his seat. He could feel Y/N’s worried eyes and Caleb’s observant gaze inspecting his face.

____

Beatrice stood beside her family, watching Harry a few metres away who was currently busy attending to the fans that recognized him. Even with his graying hair, many parents greeted him with a reminiscing statement about how they ‘saw him in concert back in the day’, to which he would chuckle at and proceed to converse for a few minutes until their child--Beatrice’s age--tugged them away.

All that Beatrice wanted to do was to get home and interact with her online friends. She had mentioned that she was graduating today and they were all very proud of her. Beatrice would rather take the peace and quiet of her own room than a bustling party.

“You’re invited,” Emma, a popular girl, stated while handing her a piece of paper with all the details of the party. Beatrice mumbled a hushed ‘thanks’, despite knowing that she wouldn’t even attend it in the first place.

“Are you going, Tris?” Y/N asked, holding Ruby’s hand so the youngest child would not get lost in the crowd.

Beatrice shook her head ‘no’, explaining that there was no point.

“I don’t know anyone there anyway,”

She was kind of a loner, but Beatrice was happier by herself anyways. “Besides, I don’t think dad will agree. It’s way past curfew,”

Y/N nodded in understanding. The curfew set for their eldest child was at nine in the evening. Y/N was sure that Harry would be lenient to let Beatrice go; it was her graduation after all. Sooner or later, Beatrice would be leaving for university.

____

Beatrice should be grateful. She should be happy, yet somehow those emotions were non-existent to her brain right now. She should be smiling, eyes brimming with tears because her dad actually cared to throw a party for her. But all she could feel right now was a pure disappointment and agonizing anger because Beatrice knows that he was trying to make up for years of mistreatment.

At this moment, the rowdiness of the party only proved that Harry really did not know anything about Beatrice. She did not know over half the people here, aside from the few relatives they see during the holidays; her grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. The rest were recognizable from Harry’s industry. Beatrice swore she saw Lizzo sipping a cup of liquor in their kitchen.

Aside from the initial greeting of ‘congratulations’, paired with the large banister taped on the foyer of the house, this party wasn’t much of a celebration based on Beatrice’s milestone in life. If anything, it looked like a regular get together for celebrities and industry people. Frankly, she had no interest in interacting with them. As rude as it may sound, the swirling turmoil of emotions beginning from her stomach made Beatrice push past the packed crowd with a tight-lipped smile in order to get to her room.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, especially knowing that these people in her house absolutely adored Harry. They saw him as a family man, loved and appreciated by his kids. It wasn’t a complete lie, per se. Beatrice just didn’t have much experience to confirm that he was, in fact, a lovable and caring person.

If she had to put a finger on it, Beatrice was feeling utter disgust. She was disgusted because Harry was the perfect person in their eyes when everything he had shown her was that she was someone that didn’t deserve any of his attention. It felt like this was a celebration of her dad’s façade--he was not actually proud of her. He was just making it seem like he is so he wouldn’t be perceived as the dead-beat dad.

A knock at her door sounded. It was almost as if Beatrice could sense her dad’s presence without turning around to look at who just entered the privacy of her room.

“Tris?” Harry whispered, hesitating on mumbling the nickname. He had never done it willingly before, much less not as bitter as the previous times.

Beatrice swore that she could practically see the venom slithering on his tongue every time he said her name. But maybe that was just her skewed perception.

The chair that she was sitting on creaked as she shifted her weight, leaning her elbows on her desk.

“Why did you even throw a party, dad?”

It was merely a genuine question that held so many underlying meanings. Why now? Why not earlier when there was still hope to fix whatever sort of broken and fucked up relationship they had with each other?

Harry fully stepped into the room, observing the walls decorated with art and artists whom he recognized were his friends. He didn’t realize that she was a fan of Florence Pugh.

He cleared his throat with a fist to his mouth, “I wanted to celebrate your graduation,”

Beatrice internally rolled her eyes, “Did you really? Because you haven’t been there when I needed your help with my homework or assignments or anything. Now,  suddenly you want to act like you were a big part of how I achieved my accomplishments?”

It was a sour realization. It was accurate that Harry refused to help her with schoolwork. He swore that he was busy looking over new options for his upcoming projects. Retrospectively, he might have subconsciously spewed out excuses so that he wouldn’t be able to help his dear daughter.

Beatrice sighed, flattening the balls of her palms against the edge of the sleek wood, pushing the rolling wheels of the chair back. She stood up.

“Just admit it. You threw the party because you felt guilty and you think that somehow, everything will magically be okay between us?” Beatrice shot him a questioning look, chest-puffing when Harry’s lack of words confirmed her theory.

Beatrice propped her feet in the middle of her room, twisting her body so that her back was facing away from the closed-door; from him. She breathed heavily through her nose, lungs rising up and down as she gathered her thoughts.

Unbelievable.

Harry stood with his arms by his sides, staring at his daughter with curious compassion. He did not know what to say, nor did he know how to act because he didn’t take the time to get to know her. He didn’t spend time with Beatrice; nurturing, caring, calming or comforting her because he simply couldn't get over the fact that she was once a person that caused calamity in his life.

“Tris,” Her dad spoke, earning a pinch of her facial expression from the familiarity of the nickname. Yet, it was unfamiliar because Harry used it mundanely.

Beatrice cut him off, “I’ll be leaving for university in a few weeks. You can quit pretending like you care. You say this graduation party is for me but I don’t even know most of the people here!”

The volume of her voice reached a threshold that should warn both of them to keep quiet. However, Beatrice knew that with the hustle and bustle of the celebration going on downstairs—no one would hear her honesty except for her and Harry.

Harry blinked twice, mouth dropping slightly agape. Why did he throw this party? He knew his intentions; he was proud of his daughter. He wanted to show her off to everyone he knew about how intelligent and well-rounded Beatrice was.

The girl continued speaking as if reading Harry’s train of thought.

“This is for you,” She spoke bitterly as if her tongue was left with an odd taste in her mouth. “Showing off a ‘trophy’ daughter who graduated with honours but that doesn’t matter, does it? Nothing I ever do will match what you’ve done.”

The accompanying laugh—albeit, sarcastic— left Harry confused.

“What? No, this is for you. I’m proud of you,” Harry quickly disagreed with Beatrice, gesturing his large hands in a wave to emphasize his words.

She turned around with gentle disbelief; her features were hardened yet Beatrice’s eyes gleamed with hope. She wanted so badly to believe her dad, but his lack of attentiveness to her led Beatrice to roll her eyes at him instead.

“Cut the crap, Dad,”

“Language,” Harry added, pursing his lips when Beatrice scoffed.

“I can’t believe this,” Beatrice muttered, she stared at the ground as if picking out the words to say.

As bad as it sounded, she wanted to hurt her dad the way he did to her. Years of being treated like an unwanted child slowly built up inside of her and Beatrice wanted the pain to end.

“You wanted to be everything so bad that you forgot to be my Dad,”

“I am your dad, Tris,” Harry watched as she walked over to her desk. Fingers cascading the glass picture frame which held a still of their family.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Beatrice turned around, throwing the edged frame on her bed in a fit of anger.

Harry’s brows shot up to his forehead, watching his daughter’s eyes well up with tears.

“You are my dad but you’ve never been one to me! Why is that? Huh?” Beatrice pressed, crossing her arms and digging her fingernails on the skin of her bicep.

“I’m sorry that I took those opportunities away from you. You got movie deals, You had an album coming out. Tours, shows, money—you had everything and I ruined it, didn’t I? As you said, it would’ve been better if I wasn’t born,”

Harry was no stranger to not interrupting someone when they spoke. However, he couldn’t let Beatrice believe the words she spoke.

“Don’t say that! That’s not true,” He stuttered over his words, heart-shattering under the weight of Beatrice’s truthfulness. Sure, he had everything, but it didn’t mean that he was satisfied.

“But you thought about it right? You wondered how different it would be if I wasn’t born at the wrong time. Maybe you would’ve loved me more—like you do Caleb and Ruby,” Beatrice smiled sadly.

She was glad that at least her siblings would not have to experience the searing pain of being unappreciated. They did not deserve to be seen through like a ghost.

“Maybe you would’ve paid more attention to me. Maybe you would have cared that I was hurting every time you showed me nothing but disdain,”

Beatrice used her forearm to wipe away the tears beginning to soak her reddened cheeks. She sighed, plopping down at the foot of her bed, watching Harry look at her with an unreadable emotion on his face.

“You know, It’s not my responsibility to ask why,” Beatrice whispered. Though, she wondered what would have happened if she did question her dad why he looked at her as if she was a burden in his life.

Beatrice’s monologue crescendoed as utter pain cracked her voice every now and then. Her figure slouching as she truly experienced what it was like to let go of the turmoiled affliction soaring through her body.

“I’m your child! You’re the one who’s supposed to be looking out for me. You’re the one who’s supposed to show me what love is supposed to feel like. I’ve always wondered how you’d react if I came home with a boyfriend like all the movies and books talk about. But, all you’ve shown and made me feel was my first heartbreak when you’re supposed to be the one nursing me from it,”

At that point, Harry could not remain the eye contact he shared with his daughter, gazing down at the floorboard in shame.

“You were supposed to scare guys off because I’m your eldest daughter. You’re supposed to protect me from everything that could hurt me, even when it’s irrational because that is what Dads do,”

That same bitter laugh that pierced Harry’s ears earlier echoed again.

“But I guess you never really wanted to become one to begin with. Or maybe just not with me.”

Harry took a few steps back. Her words figuratively churned and twisted his gut. He caught his balance on the doorknob that moved feverishly under his weight. Sure, he didn’t want to be her dad at first. And he had many chances to fix a strained relationship, but he never took them. So really, he had no shield at denying the truth. He was simply a father who failed to be the dad to Beatrice.

“I-I do! I want to be--if you'd let me,” He hated the way his voice became weary.

Despite their differences, Beatrice and Harry both mutually hated the way his tone pinched. The way he had to plead and beg for his daughter’s forgiveness when it seemed to be too late. This could have been avoided if Harry took the chance to become the dad that Beatrice deserved to have. The dad that her siblings--Caleb and Ruby--saw and spent time with while Beatrice watched behind, wondering why she was never treated the way they did.

“For years, I wondered what was wrong with me. I listened to the music that you liked. I asked mum what you enjoyed doing because you never talk to me. I wanted you to see me as a daughter instead of this--this invisible speck that you shrug off your shoulder every time I needed you!” Beatrice cried out, hugging herself for comfort.

The worst part was that she could see Harry’s legs buckle in hesitation to come closer to her or not. He shouldn’t even have to think to comfort his daughter, but he did.

“I wanted you to like me as if I even have to do that in the first place! You’re my dad, don’t you get it? Because I didn’t. I spent so much time being the perfect child in hopes of you giving me an ounce of your attention aside from the face you put on when I walked into the room. Why did you have to treat me this way, huh?”

Tears spilled from her forest-green eyes, identical to Harry’s glazed ones. His mouth parted in retaliation. As if he was plopped in quicksand, Harry had no idea how to defend himself.

“I know that you didn’t want me in the first place but--,” Beatrice sniffled, wiping the salty liquid to her damp temples, “I just wished you treated me like I wasn’t a burden to you,”

_____

[littletealights]

let’s revisit this, i have more

first, a clarification: it is actually john (then ‘the entity’) who expresses concern regarding eddie when returning to their building. but, interestingly, it’s arthur who admits that there’s credibility in the man’s threat.

it’s interesting because arthur, at the time at least, has no memories? minimal guesses and vague ideas at best, i believe. He, virtually knows nothing about Eddie as a person. but he knows that he has a gun and Eddie is still an actual threat to his well being. hm.

speaking of eddie, this guy is your typical blue collar racist. ‘well i work with them coloureds so i may as well be civil cause i dont like to drink alone’ but when push comes to shove, he is more than happy to throw his weight around and remind everyone, and himself, that he is powerful because he is the ‘superior’ white.

okay, so now i have more examples, but i really dont want to explain all of them in depth so feel free to ask questions if you have any.

- in part 4, when they’re dropping off baby #2 and deciding where to go from that diner.

- the cop in the gun shop in part 6

- one thing to note is that it is also in part 6 that john proposes the idea that they are being hunted by the king in yellow through other people. but the people he lists…some of those things are not like the others. he also almost writes the entire theory off as a feeling of uneasiness. i personally think that that’s just him noticing/experiencing racism for the first time literally ever, but two things can be true at once, yknow?

- the man on the docks (part 6 as well)

i couldn’t get their whole conversation but you remember how aggressive this man was with his syllables? i felt like alex, ‘i am not your son’ type shit.

- and of course the cops in part 8

i was honestly surprised there wasn’t anything from the lighthouse keeper, even if it wasn’t a race thing. you had a british immigrant and a french man in a room together and they didn’t throw insults once? im shocked.

there is, unfortunately, one big thing that arthur does to contradict this whole thing. and that is that time arthur stole that boat. that is (i apologise) white people bullshit if i have ever heard it. but i’ll just chalk it up to a bleed over of john’s inhuman stupidity.

like i said, it’s not necessarily that arthur himself is written as a man of colour, it’s that everyone else around him is written like he’s a man of colour.

What makes you think that Arthur is a person of color? :0 just curious.

gladly.

so, at first, i thought it was me projecting but i think the first clue i got was eddie. yall might think i’m being dramatic but eddie was…suspicious from the get-go. in a normal situation like this, there’s actually 0% chance that it turns out the way it did for arthur.

but that’s beside the point. eddie knocks on the door and receives an unhurried response. he walks away to do.. whatever it is he was doing. arthur comes to the door, opens it, looks around and picks up some trash, muttering to himself. suddenly eddie has urgent business inside the office with a. flimsy excuse at best. strike one.

we, as the audience, know that arthur is being shifty because he’s just killed a man. eddie has been told, quite convincingly, that arthur was moving… boxes or something (im looking at the transcript, arthur just says ‘not furniture’ so…). and that arthur is working with sensitive documents. not sure if you know this but private detectives have to work with proper authorities to be allowed to operate legally. that means they work with the police and the courts. when a PI says a document is sensitive, they mean legally. they mean eyes only. they mean ‘come back later or i could lose my fucking license because you got the wrong look at classified documents.’ a building manager, especially their building manager, should know that. strike two.

he also asks for arthur’s partner, peter yang (who is, i can only assume, an east asian man). i should hope that i dont have to remind you that this is massachusetts in the 30’s we’re talking about, and what that means logically. but i will. america hated asian people the most they ever did until COVID in the 30s through the 60s. the only people they hated more were black and brown people. no matter how shifty and suspicious arthur was acting, eddie would’ve been… let’s just say ‘incredibly unlikely’ to ask for peter instead of the white man. strike three

there’s some little bits about subvocals and tone that i could say, but it’d be a lot and i don’t fully understand it enough to explain well why eddie set off alarms for me. because i dont have to. it takes 5 minutes (from 11:48-16:09 on spotify, so nearly exactly) for eddie to go from inconvenient, to annoying, to suspicious, to violent. and he ends the conversation with a very real threat of violence that essentially boils down to ‘don’t come back to the building again.’ eddie is a maintenance man. he did not have the power to evict anyone. unless, of course, they were a poc. so why was arthur worried about eddie when sneaking back into the building?

but, like i said, i thought i was projecting. projection and being-on-the-lam can easily explain arthur’s hesitance when delivering the baby and asking for a ride. or the gunshop in part 6. but the lighthouse? no, what really solidified it for me was the end of part 8.

here’s what officer collin knows so far: a visibly disabled man has stumbled, confused and upset, away from a lighthouse and a body that CANNOT have been killed by a human; and it is dark outside. that’s it. using this knowledge, he then proceeds to beat said man. brutally. repeatedly.

in part 9 they learn he is blind and when that timid little fucker (mitchell) expresses doubt, collin says this

this is something we like to call coerced confession. arthur did not kill that man (the lighthouse keeper). officer collin knows that arthur didn’t kill that man. (dont play, he knows.) but because it is convenient to say that he did, they’ll threaten and torture him until he says that he did.

now, friends, i’m not going to lie to your face and say that white folk are safe from the cops, youre not, i know. but what im also not going to do is pretend like there os any world in which this happens and arthur is visibly white. not in the thirties, not in america. despite being forgotten or unmentioned they are in the midst of the great depression, the exact last thing these small-town cops need is the arrest of a blind white man on their hands. regardless, i have never ever heard of a cop speaking this way to a white person unprovoked. i, on the other hand, have been spoken to this way myself.

this is already quite long and it doesn’t even cover the sheer magnitude of people who feel comfortable calling arthur (at his grown ass age of visibly-an-adult) ‘boy.’ or the wicked and downright racist way that larson says it, (genuinely. it sounds like he’s a middle school boy who discovered the word ‘fagg*t’ for the first time the way he says it. i couldn’t tell you how many times that word (boy) drove an ice pick through my fucking skull this season.) but i hope you can at least get the picture.

original post is here

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hey!!! I'm so glad you liked the blurb night idea :) 💞 Can I request a blurb with Peter bumping into the reader while she's kinda lost at times square and he's dressed as spiderman so he tries to flirt with you, but it makes you laugh instead?

I loved the idea hun, thankyou sm for helping me with this idea xxx

“You’re a guy?”

Pairing | Peter Parker x reader

Summary | based on the request

Warnings | mentions of crime, brief mention of death and drugs, mention of sex

2K blurb masterlist

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

“And there was this girl. She was really pretty, but-“ May quirked her head at her nephew, hardly understanding his blabber as he sped through his words like he was racing verbally against a cheetah, though, she was manage to uncover that particular sentence.

“Whoa, slow down kiddo.” His aunt laughed lightly, bracing her shoulders on his arms as he caught his overexcited breath. “How about you start from the beginning, and take a breath?” May had much practice with calming the boy down, she sincerely remembered how that night his parents had dropped him off, how worried he had been for them not to return. And they didn’t.

Peter bobbed his head in a eager nod, doing as he was recommended by his legal guardian, puffing the air in through his cheeks, as he inhaled and exhaled normally through his nose.“I was out patrolling the city, checking out for any bad guys, and then, I saw her...” her, the girl that had captured his attention, and distracted him from his friendly neighbourhood duties. She was much like a magnet, pulling his north face into her axis spinning world, distracting him from the things that he was actually meant to be ensuring did not happen on his watch.

“Weren’t you supposed to be patrolling?” The elder of the two quirked a brow, earning a splutter of a response from the teenager under her roof. She wasn’t a strict guardian concerning his heroic antics, though, she made sure to keep him on track for his own sake. Peter had quite the tendency to become overrun with stress from the amounts of responsibilities that he took on, and him being only young did not help the situation.

“I’m getting to that!” He was fast to defend himself, huffing his chest in as he prepared to tell May his story, from the beginning. It was quite the tale, he’d say, combined with the embarrassment of his own presence entangled in the random and friendly interaction that he had felt promiscuously lulled to create.

Queens, it was new to you. There were so many streets, filled to the brim with people that seemed to know where they were going. Unlike them, you didn’t, in fact, you’d go as far to admit that you were lost. Lost in a place that was known for the chaos that wrapped it off with a tarnished bow, and made the collateral practically fashion within its various newspapers that rounded every corner to divulge their companies’ obscure theories.

A panicked look struck your eyes, as you turned, shaking your head and pressing through the mass of citizens and finding an empty lot, scrolling through your phone, diverting your attention quickly towards google maps. It was the only thing that you could think of, it’d be a shame if you were to disturb one of the many passersby from their clearly packed schedule; you did not need that, nor berating them on your conscience.

“You lost or something?” A voice asked, making your shoulders jump as a figure, twisted in the colours red and blue, with a seam of black fell from the roofs above. Your heart rate imploded, more so when you realised who the mask wearing vigilante was. The wearer, although unknown, was infamous for the successions of saving lives that they had participated in, including defending the galaxy against outside threats.

It was Spiderman, the neighbourhood dubbed avenger, that tried their utmost to return stolen or lost bikes to their rightful owners, and protected banks from armed and overnight robberies. There was known to be something different about this particular hero, they were young and clearly had time to improve their skill set, for they were quite the clutz, and spoke significantly more to those he faced off against than what was necessary.

But this one hero, stood out amongst the rest. Not only was their suit designed by Stark technology, as you had written about in a work article, but it was far more concealing, and not to mention restricting, for the person beneath the red concoction to wear. Yes, you were in town for a new job, specifically to delve into the details that regards the world of heroes, and exploit all possible angles to how they deserved as much recognition for their stunts, as the president received for his noble speeches.

“I-“ you paused, think back over what you were preparing to say. It was without a doubt, that you had not expected the vigilante to appear in your spectacle gaze the first time that you stepped foot on the premises that he roamed, and protected. But here the spider enthusiast was, leaping down to stand beside you, burdening you with more knowledge that you could use, such as the person beneath was not as tall as you had expected, and there was definitely no way you could see their true eyes through the shallow white cases that covered them.

That was something you could write about, and make various descriptive theories about. ‘Seeing in white vision, sparked by the purity that glazed their unknown signature irises, Spider-Man halts all with the sparing of their true self. They may have reasons for shielding their eyes, much like Daredevil, not needing to see when they are overcome with various other senses that convulse their body into attentiveness,” -no, that sounded absolutely terrible.

And not to mention, if you spread that horrid writing about, Murdoc would be ashamed of ever deciding to get your aid in uncovering the route of the villainous underworld, that had take over Hell’s Kitchen and turned it into their own ring for drugs and more. The battle of New York had many repercussions, that being one, another influencing you into the career choice of being said reporter that you now proclaimed yourself as.

“Yeah, I am.” You responded with the company of a smile, and Peter swore he could feel his heart convulse beneath his suit. It’s pace was vaguely rapid, disheartening him from thinking of any more to say, he was practically speechless. “I’m looking for New York Times, you ever heard of it?” Yes, he most definitely had, it was the average run of the mill newspaper company, though, he did not know that you intended to change that into something much more.

“Funnily enough I have.” He scratched the back of his head, his arm subconsciously flexing as he did so, feeling like he had failed as your eyes remained focused on the wideness of his suit’s intense eyes. “It’s about three blocks from here, I could take you there if you want, I have nothing more to do.” From his proclamation you quirked a brow, crossing your arms amusedly.

“Don’t you have a city to watch over?” You asked, watching as Spider-Man’s false eyes widened, and he visibly panicked, realising that you had been right. “I’ll find my way, I’ve been to New York, many a time, Queens is bound to be a piece of cake. Also, a map is always handy.” A shrug rippled off your shoulders, Peter watching and walking closer as he thought of something more to add to the initial acquainting conversation.

“I’m Spider-Man.�� Inwardly, and beneath his mask, Peter cringed noting how his voice rose, and it could be perceived as boasting. That though was definitely not his intent in the slightest, but he worried of how it may have come across to you. He wasn’t sure how you may have read it as, but a swarm of relief filled his lungs as he watched the corner of your eyes crinkle up, humoured by the tone of his that had significantly heightened. “Im a guy by the way.”

He felt the need to state that, especially considering people’s perceptions in the past. But instantly after saying it, he was regretful, through, he had to admit, he enjoyed listening to you laugh, it was like a melody that he wanted to listen to until the end of time. “You’re a guy?” You released a dramatic gasp, aiding your phoney response. “Yeah, no. I completely thought that you were a girl.” Sarcasm, he had well gotten used to frequency of it thanks to Mr Stark, who... well, he wasn’t around any more.

“You’re funny.” He smiled, shaking his head whence he realised that you could not see his hidden expression. “I don’t know, maybe, would you like to go to coffee with me, if you have time before you have to get to the news place? I mean, I don’t drink that much coffee, I get told that if I have too much caffeine that I get a little hyper, but I mean, I’m trying to ask you out and I have a really bad track record of-“

“Sure.” You spoke, ignoring the map that had finally loaded onto the screen of your phone. It was to your luck that you weren’t required to make your presence known at the business until tomorrow, and there was always time to kill, so you thought screw it, and decided to find it so that you didn’t get lost the approaching day. “Are you going to be wearing that, or you know, take it off?” You pointed at him, making peter surprised.

“It’s not that kind of date.” He quickly responded. “I meant just for a drink, not to hook up in the back of an a- oh, you meant the suit, didn’t you.” With a roll of your eyes, you nodded, pursing your lips together, as Peter felt the rain of relief once more. “Oh, that’s good, not that I wouldn’t want to, you’re gorgeous, that just wasn’t my intent and I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“Basically.” You wrinkled your nose, with a laugh, the way you scrunched it up was adorable to Peter. “So I’ll meet you here in two hours, I’ll let you finish up your duties, and change into something that doesn’t make you look you’re wearing a thong, because I can tell you from experience that those things are not comfortable. That good for you Spidey?”

“That works.” He spoke, trying his best to contain his overflowing excitement, biting his lip to do so. “That definitely works.”

“Hi.” The familiar voice of Spider-Man spoke, and you turned around, watching as a young man, not much different in age from yourself rounded the corner. He was clothed in a blue and white chequered flannel, and grey jeans, and you had to say, that whilst the amazing Spider-Man was quite the sight, this was something else.

“Oh, I was waiting for a girl actually.” You informed him, clearly messing with him, as you walked closer, a stretching smile pinning up the corners of your lips. “But I guess you’ll do webslinger.” He could feel his heart racing, but he walked closer, watching as you eyed him, a stranger met with the sight of a vigilante unmasked. “Where to, red and blue?”

“There’s this really good place on main, they sell the best sandwiches. And trust me, once you buy from there, you won’t stop...” the two of you began to walk away together, and towards Peter’s secret destination, where the two of you learnt the others real name.

[raziroo]

Cotton Candy

Pairing: Lotor x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Saying "Shit" twice

Word count: 2,076 (yay) (also, I edited this, I still need to update the word count)

Author’s Note: I'm crap at writing dialogues, and this is my first time writing for a gay couple. I'm so sorry if it seems forced or unnatural or shitty. Don't be afraid to call me out.

Story Moodboard!

It’s with a grunt of effort that I manage to lift the carton containing the cotton-candy-maker.

‘Here, dad,’ I say as my dad takes the box from my hands. ‘That’s all?’

‘Yep, that’s all of it. We’ll conquer this carnival with our delicious cotton candy,’ I nod, doing jazz hands while saying the last part. Dad chuckles. I grin.

‘Hey, Honey!’ I turn back, squinting to spot where my other dad is in the crowd of bustling people. Where, where…? Yep, there he is – in his embarrassingly brilliant sunshine yellow and bottle green striped shirt and hot pink trousers, a sharp contrast to his natural bright red hair. Don’t say that it can’t look that bright; you’ll never know just how blindingly bright bottle green can really be until you see the shirt my dad’s wearing. And trust me, he usually dresses in simpler tones; such bland tones that you’d be surprised to know he was capable of wearing colourful hues as well. It’s only that he’s very passionate about his job, and so whenever we set up a booth in fetes such as the current one, he never misses to match the shop logo.

‘Hul-lo, father dearest, how seems to go your day?’

‘Oh, quite lovely, if I do say so.’

‘Well, that’s simply charming –’

‘Alright, enough,’ my other, not redhead dad snaps with an exasperated sort of smile on his visage. You see, my not redhead, a.k.a. brown-haired dad happens to be British. And that means that me and dad would rather paint our teeth blue than to not tease him. ‘You both need to shut it and start helping me with the decorations, now. You know I’m trash at all that.’

‘Aw, now don’t get discouraged,’ I say, patting dad on the back. ‘After all, not everyone can be as blessed as me, can they?’

‘Hey, why don’t you go look around for a bit? You’ve been helping out since before I have.’

‘Yeah, he’s right, pet. You should.’

I huff, rubbing my palms on the fabric of my jeans. ‘You guys sure? I’m not tired, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘We’re not worried, we’re just saying you should also get a look, you know? There’s a lot of surprising booths this time around. I mean, there are aliens participating too, so…’

‘Hmm,’ I play with my bottom lip a little, then, ‘yeah, okay. I’ll be back in like, an hour? Forty five minutes? Sound okay?’

‘Sounds great.’

‘Bye, then.’ And with that, I turn on the heels of my Converse, wandering about the pretty stalls and eager children and kissy couples and aliens with curious features.

It really feels bizarre, just how astonishingly fast mankind has accepted the existence of aliens. It seems simultaneously ages and just a day before when conspiracy theorists raged all around the world, presenting baseless theories and concepts as to why and how the three-man squad on the Kerberos mission disappeared. Then came the Galra, bringing along with them global terror – because alien life, intelligent alien life existed and humanity remained oblivious all these millennia, and now they were actually attacking us. It could’ve been, perhaps even was, in some other dimension, the end of Earth. But then a defender appeared; Voltron appeared in all its glory, bringing along with it proof that however much these purple aliens claim that humans are scum of the universe, humans were, in the grand scheme of things, the ones that saved the universe too.

It feels even more puzzling to actually be on a first-name basis with the leader of Voltron; that’s right, I’m personally acquainted with Keith Kogane. It was around six months after him leaving the Garrison did I come across him. He’d been loitering around the neighbourhood, had ended up in a fistfight with some other kids, and along with that a split lip and bruised cheek. I’d been watching. When the fight ended, I (somehow) persuaded him to come along so that I could at the very least provide him with a band-aid.

Long story short, we’d bonded over how our moms were no-shows and how dads were the best and we became surprisingly close friends; the only difference was that after the death of his old man, he lived alone. I’d been adopted by my two current fathers. I told him about how when they’d initially adopted me, I was excruciatingly shy. I wouldn’t even come out of my room except meals. It was only when I came to know that they knew how to make candy floss had I timidly approached them if I could have some, because previously I’d always been grossed out at the thought of having to eat that. I’d overheard this group of kids saying that cotton candy was actually just dyed granny hair, so that’s where that came from.

I love cotton candy now. So much so, that even at the age of twenty-six, I will pout if someone takes some of mine without my permission. As if I’d ever allow them to.

Speaking of Keith, I haven’t seen him in years. We lost all contact when he turned eighteen, and then he went off into space, and even when he came back, I didn’t get a chance to meet him. I bear no ill will, though. He must have formed some close relationships. Our past friendship is comparatively much more trivial.

I spot a booth selling grilled corn. I instantly head there.

As I’m about join the crowd of humans and aliens who also want corn, a familiar call of my name leads me to pull a three sixty.

Lo and behold. Keith Kogane.

Despite him having obviously grown a lot, the face was still the same. I’m sure that, if he gets a split lip and bruise on his cheek right now, he won’t look all that different.

There’s a questioning hesitance on his features; he’s probably wondering if he’s got the right person. My pleasantly surprised smile and raised eyebrows assure him. As I step away from the grilled corn stall, I notice a motley crowd behind him; some are purple, some are holding Voltron plushies, and some look way too curious to be in a carnival. The introduction is going to be fun.

‘Keith! You're gonna live a hundred years - I was just thinking about you. But anyways, it’s – it’s great to see you,’ I say with a little giggle. ‘Though I am kind of surprised you actually approached me. The sixteen-year-old you would never.’

He smiles awkwardly in return. ‘Y – yeah… I, just… oh God, this is – I’m sorry,’ he says, his inner turmoil evident.

‘It’s all good. I know you’re shit at small talk, so… like, introduce me? Maybe?’

He nods rapidly, brows furrowed. ‘Yeah, um,’ he turns to the people behind him, telling them my name, how we met, the whole affair. I give them a wave. Most of them greet me back.

‘And, this is Shiro and Curtis,’ he points to the tall, white-haired yet young man, holding hands with a tanner guy, ‘Lance, Pidge and Hunk,’ he points to a lanky, bright-smiled guy, a buffer, kind-seeming person, and a short chestnut-haired woman who, despite wearing baggy jeans and a baggier tee, looks somehow better dressed than me. ‘Then that’s Allura, Coran, and Romelle, they’re Alteans,’ a woman with enchanting beauty and a regal aura surrounding her, a redhead who’s significantly older than the rest with an impressive moustache, and a youthful appearing girl with a big grin, ‘and Lotor, he’s Galran. The Galran Emperor, in fact.’ Lotor is a tall, lilac-skinned man with aristocratic features who shares the same cheek markings as the Alteans. Oh, and he’s unfairly gorgeous, his hair a luscious mane of white which I just know will be soft. It’s hard not to stare. You remember how I said Allura looked like royalty? Yeah, the way this man carries himself, he has the aura and visage of a God. Even in a white tee-shirt and jeans he looks way better than should be legal.

I rip my eyes away.

‘So…are Noah and Oliver here too? I’d love to see them. I mean, I never did get to thank them to permit a possible criminal to sleep in their house.’

I laugh. ‘Never mind that, but we actually sit up a stall here. I could, you know, maybe even get you guys something to eat.’

‘Free? Please don’t.’

‘It’s nothing, really, just… I don’t know, accept it as a small thank you present for not letting the planet go to shit.’

A bit of thinking. Even after a nod from Shiro, it was Lance who said yes. Good ol’ Keith.

When we reach the stall, my British dad is the only one we find there. He looks up, about to say something to me, when he notices Keith.

‘Dad. You remember Keith?’

‘Your possible criminal friend who turned out to be the saviour of the universe Keith?’

‘That Keith. He wanted to see you.’

‘Oh? Well then,’ he dusts his hands, stands up, and greets Keith. Both of them engage in a conversation.

‘You guys wanna try something?’

‘What do you got?’ asks Pidge.

‘What do we got? Um, we got chocolates, candy, marshmallows, jellybeans, tortilla chips, ice cream, popcorn – butter, cheese, caramel, peri peri – Lays, like, a lot of Lays, and the good old cotton candy. What d’you want?’

So, after providing the humans with two Cream n’ Onion Lays, a pack of tortilla chips, a double scoop of butterscotch and chocolate, a small tub of popcorn, and three cotton candy sticks, I turned to the aliens.

‘I’m assuming you guys aren’t familiar with a lot of this stuff, so you could either pick whatever looks to be good, ask your friends, or I could recommend something. What’ll it be?’

Romelle was the one who asked, ‘What’s ice cream like?’

‘It’s sweet. It’s cold. And it’s like… heaven in mouth.’

‘Ooh. I want an ice cream. The… pink one?’

‘That’s strawberry. You can eat it in a cone, or in a cup.

‘What’s the difference?’

‘Well, the cup you can’t eat. The cone is like a crispy biscuit,’ judging by her face, she didn’t know what biscuit was. ‘I’ll just give you a cone. It’s all on the house, so no worries if you don’t like it.’

I watched eagerly as she licked the ice cream. An unreadable look crossed her face. Then – ‘This is almost as good as Hunk’s cookies!’

‘Really?’ Coran asked, twirling his moustache. ‘Well, then…’ he squinted to read the names of the various flavours. ‘I would like “cookies and cream”. Yes.’ A cone of cookies n’ cream was served.

‘Allura?’

‘Do you have something that isn’t sweet?’ That was a plot twist. I’d have taken her as someone who appreciated sweeter foods.

‘We do. You want spicy?’

‘…Sure.’ Peri Peri popcorn was given and enjoyed.

And last… ‘Lotor. What would you like to have?’

It takes me a lot of will to not laugh at Lotor’s way too analytical expression. ‘What would you recommend?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Out of all this stuff, candy floss is my favourite.’

‘Candy floss… the item that looks simultaneously like a cloud and an old woman’s hair?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I would like a helping of candy floss, then.’

As I hand Lotor a stick of cotton candy, I wait with anticipation for his reaction.

‘How am I supposed to eat this?’

It takes me a moment to process that. ‘Uh, you just… pinch a little of the stuff in between your fingers, then eat it. Or you could just, um, go in directly, which I’m thinking isn’t really your style.’

He narrows his eyes, but follows my instructions nonetheless. Only a second after putting the stuff in his mouth, Lotor purrs.

Everyone around him, being me, Coran and Romelle (Allura’s off telling Lance how great Earth food is), looks with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Lotor appears as if he’s just died inside. The berry-shaded blush on his face is adorable, though.

'I didn't, like, poison you or something, right?'

'No. It's that... I would never in my lifetimes have expected something so tooth-rottingly sweet to be this delicious.'

'So you're okay?'

‘Yes. In fact, I quite like… this cotton candy.’

I grin.