#that did something to my psyche i had to watch and study videos of exactly what to do

[goldensunset]

you are a mean and evil person to me.

[peterpparkrr]

the lost boys (ch. 2)

Series: the lost boys

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Summary: Steve takes Eddie home with him. The gang begins to form a plan.

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to figure out the lore of this world and explain all of Eddie’s cool powers? Yeah, that’s gonna happen next chapter lol.

previous chapter // next chapter

Steve likes to think that by now he’s pretty used to weird shit happening to him. But even after fighting demon creatures something about driving Vampire Eddie Munson back to his house seems to take the cake as a bizarre feeling settles in his stomach as he watches Eddie fiddle with the radio as they drive along in silence.

“You have to invite me in,” Eddie explains as he stands on the Harrington’s stoop. Awkwardly left behind as Steve walks into his house, turning in confusion when Eddie stops suddenly.

“Oh, uh, right. I grant you permission to enter my house,” Steve says as he awkwardly flourishes his arm out behind him in a broad sweep, ushering Eddie inside.

“Okay, freak, it doesn’t have to be weird like that,” Eddie mutters as he steps over the threshold and moves past Steve as he shakes his head.

“How do you know?” Steve protests as he follows Eddie down the hallway. “Have you been invited into anyone else’s house? You wouldn’t know if it only works if you use old-timey talk.”

“Yeah, no,” Eddie replies. “That’s definitely not how it works.”

Eddie wanders into Steve’s house. He’d been here before, one time, a few years ago for a rager. Not that Steve had been the one to invite him, Tommy H. had probably begged Eddie to come with ‘party supplies’ and, well, when King Steve threw a party, people showed up. 

Eddie had always looked back fondly on that night, he’d made absolute bank off the throngs of teenagers that were desperate to try a joint.

But devoid of the throngs of teenagers, Harrington’s house was surprisingly… empty. 

Utterly lacking in personality, the walls were various shades of beige and empty other than a few frames filled with staged family photos of Steve and his parents. There was plenty of carefully selected, matching furniture, but it looked like a showroom, not like anyone actually lived here. 

“What?” Steve asked as he watched Eddie study his house with a level of intensity that Steve found deeply disconcerting. He’d never liked people prying into his life, around his house.

“I’m just soaking in how the other half live, King Steve,” Eddie quipped as he glanced back at Steve.

“I’m gonna call Henderson and Robin, let them know… well,” Steve says awkwardly as he heads towards the kitchen. “You keep… snooping.”

Eddie grinned. 

Steve’s voice faded as Eddie shuffled out of the living room and made his way up the stairs, poking into the doorways as he made his way along the hall.

A bathroom.

The master bedroom, which looked exactly like the rest of the house. 

And then at the end of the hall, he found the only room in the house with any personality at all. 

Steve’s bedroom. 

The wallpaper was ugly as shit. And it matched the curtains which felt deeply irresponsible. 

But there was a bookshelf full of trophies. Basketball trophies, swimming trophies, and even a few T-Ball trophies. 

There was a pile of Family Video VHS tapes stacked on the desk topped with a sticky note with what looked like Robin Buckley’s handwriting in all caps proclaiming “WATCH THESE, DINGUS”. 

A framed photo of a sports car on one wall. 

A Farrah Fawcett poster on another wall. Tasteful.

The closet was full of preppy clothes that Eddie would rather die than be seen in, and a bat covered in nails which was… strange but understandable.

He found a box of condoms in the drawer of the bedside table but that was by far the most scandalous thing he’d found.

The room might have been bland to anyone else, but Eddie appreciated the glimpse into Steve Harrington’s psyche. It was weirdly fascinating to learn that Steve Harrington, or whoever did his laundry, folded his socks, and that they were organized by color. Or that what appeared to be the only book in Steve Harrington’s possession was The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. 

“Finding anything interesting?” Steve asked as he leaned against the door frame. He wished he knew what Eddie was thinking, he didn’t know why exactly he suddenly cared what Eddie Munson thought of him, or of his belongings, but he couldn’t help feeling curious.

Eddie whipped around. Maybe he should have felt guilty, or at least like he’d been caught. 

“You are painfully boring, Harrington,” Eddie replied. “Seriously, how can someone so hot be so lame?”

“Whatever, the others will be here any minute,” Steve replies with a roll of his eyes before he pushes off the door frame and into his room, flopping down on his bed as he looks up at Eddie who’s suddenly very busy studying Steve’s cassette collection.

“Don’t you have any real music?” Eddie scoffs as he thumbs through Steve’s cassettes.

“This is good music! Just because it’s not heavy metal doesn’t mean that it’s bad,” Steve argues

“Sure, but this is decidedly not good music,” Eddie counters. “Wham!? Seriously?” He scoffs as he holds up the offending tape.

“I like it,” Steve replies defensively as he snatches the tape out of Eddie’s grasp, curling his fingers around it protectively.

“You are an enigma, Steve,” Eddie replies, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, It’s not too late for you, I’ll get you onto the good stuff.”

Steve’s about to protest when the doorbell rings. 

And then keeps ringing.

“Dustin,” Steve explains over the incessant ringing.

“Alright, I get it! Give me a sec!” Steve shouts into the air as he pushes back off the bed and down the stairs, Eddie trailing behind him.

Steve opens the door to find both Dustin and Robin standing on his doorstep, Dustin’s finger still jamming at the doorbell.

“What the fuck happened? Why were you being so weird?” Dustin asked, clearly annoyed as he pushed past Steve, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw the figure behind Steve.

“Eddie?” Dustin choked out.

“Oh shit,” Robin muttered as she followed Dustin inside, stopping beside Steve at the door.

“Surprise,” Eddie replied weakly as he waved his hands awkwardly at his sides.

“Holy shit I thought we lost you,” Dustin muttered into Eddie’s chest as he hugged the older boy tightly. 

“Yeah, me too,” Eddie replied as he squeezed Dustin back.

“I’m so sorry, I thought you were- I didn’t feel a pulse- did I leave you for-“ Dustin begins to ramble out his apologies as he takes a step back from Eddie, his eyes never blinking, like he’s scared Eddie will disappear. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m not mad,” Eddie is quick to console him. Assuring Dustin that it’s not his fault. “And I was, y’know, dead,” He adds with a shrug.

“Oh,” Dustin replies quietly. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Robin questions.

“Let’s sit down,” Steve says as he gestures for everyone to move out of the entryway.

“I’m a vampire now, Robin,” Eddie explains once they’re all sitting down in Steve’s living room, on the furniture that doesn’t look like it’s supposed to be used.

“Holy shit!” Dustin gasps as he gapes at Eddie, his mouth hanging open.

Robin’s wide eyes found Steve and it was all Steve could manage to shrug half-heartedly and nod to her which she, for some reason accepted. 

“What does this mean? How did that happen? Was it the bats?” Dustin starts questioning. “We need to tell the others,” He adds.

“Woah, woah, woah, slow your roll, kid,” Eddie replies as he holds up his hands. “I’m still a wanted man, I can’t just waltz back into town.”

“People thought I was a satanic cult leader before, now I am literally a monster, I think suddenly reappearing is just about the worst thing I could do,” He adds. “No one else can know, at least not yet.” 

“Okay,” Robin replies, slowly nodding. “Then what’s the plan?”

“Eddie lays low,” Steve says. “And we figure out how to clear his name.”

Eddie’s gaze flies to Steve’s in surprise.

“You deserve to have a life, just because you’ve got weird powers now doesn’t mean you can’t have some sense of normalcy,” Steve tells Eddie with a shrug.

“I mean, if El can come to school I don’t see why we can’t figure it out for you too,” Dustin replies as he starts to nod in agreement with Steve. “But we’re gonna need some help.”

“I mean, El and Hopper, right?” Robin replies.

“I’m sorry, police chief, Hopper?” Eddie clarifies. “That’s your plan?”

“His daughter’s got freaky superpowers, if anyone is gonna be able to help us, it’s gonna be him,” Steve assures him.

“Fine,” Eddie replies. “Who cares if I get impaled on a stake? Let's go talk to the police.”

“Former police chief, he lost his job when everyone thought he died,” Dustin points out

“Oh, well that makes me feel so much better.”

[rjhpandapaws]

D:BH human Au

//Reed900 nonverbal Nines. Also vaguely college ish. Nines is studying psych and forensic linguistics and Gavin is studying criminology

Gavin watched with curious eyes as the man at the counter ordered his drink, the movements of his hands was fluid and distinct. Gavin didn't know much ASL but he recognized the sign for 'coffee' and the non personal sign for 'black'. Gavin liked this particular cafe because it was out of the way and relatively quiet, it was in the college side of town and catered more toward the deaf and encouraged hearing patrons to order using signs. The names of the drinks were in a typed script and below was the sequence of signs for them. It was unique and Gavin liked the idea, though he usually spoke his order out as it was quicker.

The stranger moved to the other counter to wait out his drink. He seemed to notice eyes on him and turned his head looking the Cafe over looking for whoever was staring at his back. His blue eyes met Gavin's and Gavin turned away at being caught. He turned back to the counter when his drink was called. He took it with a nod at the barista and made his way out of the Cafe heading out into the city.

Gavin finished his drink a while later, heading back toward the university. There was about a day until the new semester started and Gavin wasn't exactly looking forward to his course load. His profiling class he didnt mind, the professor was nice enough, but psych and math were going to be problems for him. He didn't like the ambiguity of psychology, and frankly he and numbers didn't get along well.

He sighed heading for his apartment. He'd relax for the day, get a good night's rest and deal with the beast that was a full college workload in the morning.

Gavin woke to the alarm on his phone, a song from a game that he enjoyed. Hitting snooze he laid in bed for a moment debating staying in bed and getting coffee from the school or forging sleeping in and stopping at the Cafe. Familiar routine won out and he got out of bed.

Dressing was a boring affair, his usual loose hoodie and a pair of jeans. He grabbed his bag and his keys and made his way to the cafe. The line this time of morning was relatively short. He stood behind a tall brunette in a white faux leather jacket and dark jeans with a messenger bag over one shoulder.

The stranger ordered his drink and moved to the other counter signing rather than speaking. Gavin stepped up to the counter. Scanner the menu more for show than anything else before ordering his usual.

"Carmel Machiatto with a shot of espresso." He spoke aloud rather than signing and after he paid headed for the end counter to wait.

The taller stranger gave him an amicable smile, more out of social decency than anything else, and Gavin gave something of a courteous nod. The stranger lifted his hands and signed, something, Gavin didn't know what and stared for a moment.

"Sorry." He said a bit awkwardly "I dont know sign language."

"He said good morning." The barista behind the counter said as he handed the taller stranger his drink. And well, Gavin did a double take. The barista was the stranger's doppelganger, a few inches shorter and with brown eyes. His name tag read 'Connor' in neat script.

"Ah, good morning then..." Gavin replied looking between the two, unsure if Connor would need to interpret for the stranger.

The taller one signed again, or rather spelled something out, Gavin recognized the letter 'A' and that was it. And looked to Connor for direction.

"He said his name is Richard. And that it was nice meeting you." Connor once again interjected saving the otherwise stiff conversation.

"Gavin, its nice to meet you as well." This gained him another quiet nod then with a slight wave Richard excused himself. Gavin's drink came up a short time later and he followed suit.

He went through his morning classes in a bit of a daze, thinking about the man from the Cafe. He signed but clearly wasn't Deaf, and despite it being none of Gavin's business, he found himself curious. He had a break between classes, about an hour. He headed to the library and pulled out his phone and earbuds. He passed the time watching videos on ASL, the basics. How to introduce himself, and the alphabet so he could spell his name.

When it came time to he made his way to his psych class picking a seat near the wall, close enough to see what was going on but far enough to hopefully keep from getting called on. Other students filed into the class, tending to sit in clusters. Finding people they knew, and grouping up that way. Gavin wasn't paying much attention until a familiar white jacket entered his field of vision.

Richard began signing, slower than at the Cafe and Gavin felt a swell of pride at recognizing the set of letters that made up his name. Richard waited on a response, but Gavin didn't known the question and expressed as much. Richard sighed and tapped the empty chair beside Gavin and then gestured to himself, then back to the chair.

It dawned on Gavin a little late "Uh yeah, you can sit there i guess."

Taking it for the invitation he needed Richard sat down and got out a notebook and a pen. He wrote something down quick and seeming rather sure of himself and said the notebook toward Gavin.

'What are you here to study?'

"My degree is criminology. What about you?"

He was met with more pen on paper and the return slide of the notebook, 'Psychology and forensic linguistics.'

"But you don't talk, how does that work? Shrinks have to be able to talk to their patients and if you go into linguistics you'll have to discuss your findings."

That earned him a look, sharp blue eyes narrowing some. A-S-L was signed in short sharp snaps. And then he was writing again, 'American Sign Language is a language. Secondly what about deaf patients they can't exactly be listened to. I plan to go into law enforcement as it is so speech won't be too much of an issue.'

Gavin put his hand up in a placating type of way. "Sorry. So you plan to go into law enforcement too? That's pretty cool. Think you could help me through this class?"

Richard smiled slightly, and Gavin wasn't sure if he liked it or not. It softened his otherwise sharp features, but something about it was reminisce of a predator going for its prey. 'Learn to sign and we'll /talk/ about it.'

Gavin decided then he might be in over his head, but he found he didnt mind.

@yayen-chan

[killian-spey]

Death Would Be Kinder [Prologue]

Next Ch.

[Drusilla/Spike/Calendar!Reader]

Words: 1591

Fic Concept: Jenny Calendar’s sister spends some “quality time” with the Season 2 Vampire Squad.

TW/CW: violence

AN: Idea came from @prose-for-hire ‘s submission to the fic title game. It's a tad different from the original concept, but I just had so much fun with it! (Planned to be somewhere between 5-10 parts.)

It was Buffy’s 17th birthday today, but the mood seemed too heavy in the car for any giggling between the two of you. Truth be told, you both had a lot on your minds; not that you would have actually told her anything about your problems. You were staring out the window, picking absently at some dried paint on your arm; you never were able to master being tidy while you painted. Your older sister, Jenny, was driving the two of you to The Bronze, where the rest of the group was lying in wait to surprise her with a birthday bash. You made eye contact with her when she looked through the rear view at you, and you could tell she was just as worried as you were about recent developments.

Your Uncle had come into town recently and berated the two of you for letting Buffy and Angel get so close. Unfortunately for you and Jenny, if something didn't change quickly, Angel could lose his soul. All the work of your ancestors taken to curse him would be undone, and there would be no way to fix it. It's not that you wanted Angel to be unhappy, but the vengeance curse against Angel was not only important to your people, but possibly the thing that kept him from being a monster. If anything jeopardized that, it would crush Buffy and the gang. You didn't want to let anyone down.

Jenny pulled into the side street -having arrived at The Bronze- and you undid your seat belt. Before you could open your door, Buffy pulled your hand away from the handle.

“This looks funky, stop for a sec.”

You and Jenny both squinted, trying to see what she was even talking about. It took you both a moment, but sure enough there were two vamps clambering around on a truck in the shadows. Jenny tried to talk Buffy out of fighting them, but she left anyway. Something about destiny and all that. You were just impressed she could see that well in the dark.

Watching Buffy fight the vamps left you wincing, pitying the undead for having to go through such a beat down. You hung on the edge of your seat and leaned on the passenger seat in front of you. The two of you left in the vehicle hadn't had a chance to talk in private since Uncle had spilled the beans on the Angel problem.

“What are we going to do about the curse, Jenny?”

She made a face and shook her head, she didn't know what to do either. She knew more about the curse than you did -magic was never your strong suit- and if she didn't know, you both were stuck.

“If only there was a way to separate them.” You were spit-balling.

“Right, and how do you suggest we do that?”

She had a point, Buffy and Angel had been practically attached at the hip recently. You opened your mouth to speak, but paused as Buffy tossed the last vamp through a window into The Bronze. You and Jenny both made reactionary sounds that could only be summed up as “Yikes noises” and scrambled out of the car. Buffy hopped through the broken window and you both inspected the window. Jenny picked up a crate one of the vamps had been carrying and carried it inside.

After some pleasantries and some “Yeah, sorry! Vampires exist” talk with Oz, the group crowded around the mystery box. It was no secret that those vamps were Spike’s men, so whatever it was, it was definitely not good.

Your worry was confirmed when an arm shot out of the box, strangling Buffy before she and Angel managed to rip it away from her throat. According to Angel, it was the arm of The Judge. That meant Spike was building a one-man-apocalypse like some kind of demonic Lego figurine.

You glanced at Jenny, trying to communicate your plan silently as you addressed the group. “Someone has to take this thing as far away from here as possible- separate it from the other pieces.”

Jenny was quick, immediately understanding your idea.

“Angel, it has to be you. You're the only one who can protect this thing.”

It took a little convincing, but a plan was soon agreed on. You and Jenny shared a “Thank God” glance, secretly pleased that Angel and Buffy would be separated, at least temporarily. You could rest easy in the fact that Angelus wouldn't be loosed on the world in a freak accident of soul-losing proportions.

Or so you thought...

A couple hours later, you were back in the library doing research. Angel and Buffy had lost the box, and had everyone regroup to study up on The Judge.

To be entirely honest, you were doodling in your notes. Every text on The Judge said exactly the same thing, sometimes even verbatim. The Judge cannot be killed by any weapon forged by Man. It was exhausting!

Luckily for you, Buffy decided to break up the research with some good old fashioned recon, and Jenny suggested you go with them. Buffy was about to protest, but you cut her off.

“With the exception of you supernatural folks, I do have the best track record of holding my own. No offense, guys,” Xander seemed less than pleased with your not-so-subtle brag, but you continued anyway. “And, I’d be able to map parts of the facility super quick and easy. We’ll need that info if we plan on making a move.”

Reluctantly, Buffy and Angel agreed to take you with them and you snatched your notepad and pencil from the table, glad to be free from the texts and tomes… Even if it meant putting you in direct danger. You briefly wondered if maybe you shouldn't see a therapist about that someday, but shrugged it off as the three of you left the building.

---

Upon reaching the factory, the three of you climbed the fire escape and ducked into a broken, old window over a set of rafters. You had already begun sketching the layout of the rooms as you took in the sights below. It looked like some kind of party, to be plain. Vamps were crawling all throughout the place, a crystal bowl of what looked like punch rested on a table covered with cups in the middle of the warehouse space, and tall lattice-backed chairs were loosely strewn around a banquet table. You and Buffy creeper ahead on the grate walkway above it all. Your eyes were locked on the party, but you could assume Angel was following behind; he was too quiet for you to hear.

Your eyes fell on Spike, he was in a wheelchair. He seemed to be enjoying himself despite his weakened state, talking to someone just out of your line of sight. Not a second later, you saw Drusilla dancing her way across the floor, swaying to her own beat and sweeping the red chiffon ribbons of her dress through the air. Buffy gasped softly, but you didn't see whatever she'd seen.

“That's him. The Judge,” Angel whispered from behind you both and pointed.

You saw him, just as he craned his ugly blue head up to spot the three of you gawking. Fuck.

You spun to face the window, finding two vamps in the way of your escape. Buffy and Angel had flanked you from both sides, but fighting this many vamps was completely futile. Before long, the three of you were dragged in front of Spike, Drusilla and The Judge. Spike rolled his chair forward to get a better look at Buffy.

“Well, Well- look what we have here! Crashers.”

“I'm sure our Invitations just got lost in the mail,”

You almost rolled your eyes at Buffy’s one-liner. How she managed wise-cracks at a time like this was beyond you. Ignoring the monologues, your eyes darted around in search for an escape method. Nothing came to mind, but when you turned back into the conversation, Drusilla’s eyes had locked with yours.

She was ever so slightly swaying to music you couldn't hear and your eyes followed her intently. She raised two fingers, pointed at each of your eyes and gestured to her own. She beckoned you. She was enchanting. Beautiful. She was- she broke contact as Buffy suddenly made a move and you took a second to follow suit, twisting out of a vamp’s hold and knocking him -and accidentally yourself- off balance. You were suddenly unsure of your footing, almost groggy as you fought.

Angel pulled a chain, crashing a pile of video monitors you hadn't noticed down from their perch onto The Judge. The three of you scattered. You ducked behind some crates and heard Drusilla call for the lackeys to chase. You spotted Angel and Buffy slipping into a sewer drain and psyched yourself up to book it twenty feet to get there to join them. You took one last look behind the crates -Drusilla locked eyes with you- and you booked it, not entertaining her gaze this time.

As you dropped down the sewer drain, you caught a glimpse of her, just staring at you. You scanned both directions of the sewer system, but found no trace of Buffy or Angel. In a split second you picked a direction and ran. You didn't stop running. Not for breath, not to look behind you, and certainly not to entertain the nagging memory of Drusilla’s eyes, staring into your soul as they'd done just minutes ago.

Read Next Ch.

[merinnan]

Time Raiders

Okay, pausing the DMBJ 2 watches to watch the Time Raiders movie instead! I've been told that the entire movie is basically one big crackfic & I want to see how true that is

- Apparently the only place I can find it is YouTube 

- And we open with someone laying down cards which...seem to be making a qilin pattern. Okay. 

- And now we're at the Himalayas, and it seems to be a bunch of white soldiers shooting people? 

- Oh, this leader white guy has a classic villain look. I love the pocket watch, too 

- Wait, he's supposed to be a scientist? 

 - He obviously hasn't read the Evil Overload Handbook 

- And now this is giving me flashbacks to Xiaoge's first appearance in DMBJ1

- Ah, yes, I think this is the Xiaoge for this movie. Excellent. 

- DUDES. You have GUNS. You were using them just before. Why are you now using knives only? 

- I mean, it wouldn't do much better, because Xiaoge, but still 

- This is A Look

- Finally, one of them uses a gun, and it's as useless as I expected it would be 

- Ahahahah, omg, what he did to these two guys is hilarious 

- That is a TERRIBLE hiding place 

- Don't....don't leave him alive. JFC

- This flashback montage is super weird 

- Look, I don't have a tattoo myself, but I'm pretty sure that that's not how you get tattoos 

- And now we move to Wushanju 

- Oh, I think it's Sanshu who's been playing with those cards

- ...you have got to be kidding me 

- Really? We're really doing this? 

- I guess this is Wu Xie, then 

- What even did he just randomly put that mask on for 

- That is NOT a newborn

- Awww, kid Wu Xie 

- Yay, creepy old houses. And ofc kid Wu Xie is gonna try to get inside 

- But that is a fucking massive lock 

- Yes, of course, wrap the porch in giant fuckoff chains, but don't lock the front door. Why not? 

- ....k 

- Sure, that happened

- And bratty kid Wu Xie still pinched one of the medallions after all of that 

- Okay, yeah, if you were a kid who had to go to a funeral every month, no wonder you'd be so bored at them

- This movie is all over the place in terms of timeline 

- I think we're finally into the time period of the main story 

- And it seems this one also has Wu Xie as having been an architecture student of some kind

- Oh, yes, that's exactly what you want to find while crawling through a tunnel 

- WX: "Sanshu can never know about this. You didn't tell him, right?" 

WM: *oh shit I'm screwed face* 

- Hi Sanshu, I wonder how you got here

- I love that no matter what version it is, Wu Xie is a little shit XD 

- ...Wu Xie. Moths. Light. No. 

- Wu Xie gonna Wu Xie 

- Wu Xie, what are you doing? 

- OMG 

- Sanshu, this is all your fault for never letting him in anything like this. He doesn't know not to touch

- Wow, that wasn't subtle at all 

- That's some steampunky looking villain lair right there 

- I love how the 'passerby video' getting screened fucking everywhere is just the movie footage of that scene XD That's some high quality passerby video with interesting angles

- That's an interesting drinking spot, Xiaoge 

- I love that so far Wu Xie's instincts for everything is either 'touch it', 'wear it', or 'dismantle it' 

- ....okay 

- Yeah, I....I think this is going to be my reaction to most of the movie, tbh

- Although at least this whole magic Snake Empress and weird ancient technology/magic thing is more interesting than the bland het palace drama randomly dropped into the middle of DMBJ1 

- Oh, finally, some product placement 

- I was wondering what was taking it so long

- I love how all their desks and papers and such are inside what look like coffins, and then fold out 

- Oh look, Xiaoge's sword is inside one of the coffins. 

- And there's Xiaoge 

- Hei Ye gave Sanshu the sword decades ago?

- lol, this is like some Sword in the Stone bullshit right here 

 - I love it 

- a) Was all that really necessary 

- b) wtf even is that sword? 

- It's a really bizarre design, and surely being able to be moved like a mechanical device would weaken it?

- ...okay, that was a cute meeting, I'll give it that 

- Love how the older guys are teasing Wu Xie in the truck here. 

- Oh, Wu Xie's actually a psych student in this one

- And like, Wu Xie, how do you know Xiaoge was looking at his reflection. It's a window, he might have just been spacing out at the scenery 

- You must have been paying a lot of attention to him to notice it was the reflection he was actually looking at, hmmm? 👀

- This is a cute Wu Xie, tho 

- Yes, Wu Xie, despite your lack of modesty there I totally caught that you just called Xiaoge handsome 

- WU XIE WHAT NO DON'T DO THAT 

- Hahaha, Xiaoge had exactly the same reaction

- No, Wu Xie, it doesn't matter that you'd taken the ammo out, you should never stick the barrel of a gun in your face and look down it like that. 

- Even if you're certain it's unloaded, you just DON'T DO THAT

- Wu Xie, lacking impulse control and survival instincts without Xiaoge and Pangzi since....forever 

- (okay, lacking survival instincts was perhaps a bit too far, but still)

- I love Xiaoge's "omg what even are you" look at that 

- This is a very talkative and open to talking about himself Xiaoge 

- It's kind of weird

- lol @ Sanshu locking Wu Xie in the truck so he can't come with them 

 - I mean, really, does he actually expect this to work? 

- He knows his nephew both likes and is good at taking things apart, after all 

- lol, I knew it 

- Oh 

- Oh, that's not a good sign

- Even Coral's logo just screams 'villainous organisation' 

- These mercenaries look like video game characters from like COD or something 

- Oh hi, lady I presume is A-Ning 

- I like the haircut. Looks kinda like DMBJ 1 Xiaoge's haircut, just with the fringe over the opposite eye

- Oh, there's that gratuitous boob shot that @thosch3i​ told me about 

- I really don't see why it was necessary for A-Ning to crawl all over the truck like that when everyone else just walked past it

- There is some really nice scenery in this movie with all the mountains and cliffs and such 

- "What I'm doing isn't about right or wrong, it's about how much" I like this A-Ning. She is refreshingly direct and mercenary

- Damn, I though Xiaoge was going to notice the drone. I mean, it's so close to them! He should notice it! 

- Love Hendrix's surprised Pikachu face at recognising him, though 

- I'm honestly surprised that none of them have looked in the truck at all

- I do appreciate that this movie doesn't even attempt to pretend that they're not tomb raiders 

- And that they have no interest in preserving this place 

- Because BOOM! Let's just dynamite our way in and destroy half the wall

- Oops, no floor there 

- Hahaha, this tomb is a fucking platform game 

 - Lovely, a shootout in a tomb. Just what every good tomb raiding movie need 

 - lol, Sanshu 

- Don't you ever ever again wonder where your nephew's little shit tendencies come from

- I think Xiaoge and A-Ning are the only truly competent people on their respective teams 

- A-Ning, 'keep them alive' does not mean 'try to shoot one in the face at close range' 

- That little boot knife is kinda cute, though 

- Clever move, Pan Zi

- I love the Xiaoge/A-Ning fight. He really is the only one who could keep her distracted 

- I'm impressed at how well she held her own with him 

- IDK why he was holding back

- Also, Xiaoge participating in fight banter, no matter how minimal? Strange, but also kinda cool. 

- I'm going to be giggling about that "Not bad"/"I know" for awhile, I think 

- IDK how they had the time or the ability to stay still long enough to rig up that trap, I'm impressed

- lol, yeah, I didn't think that it would take Wu Xie long to get out of the truck 

- I take back my earlier comment about it being too harsh to say that Wu Xie lacks survival instincts without Xiaoge and Pangzi around

- Wu Xie, there is not enough light down here for you to get good shots without your flash being on 

- I know having your flash on is a BAD idea, but still 

- You cannot be getting good photos in this light

- Why is Xiaoge separated from everyone? He jumped down with them 

- I mean, it's good that he is, otherwise Wu Xie would be kinda screwed right now 

- Huh, bats, there must be an actual entrance to this tomb, not just the one that Sanshu's team made.

- A-Ning's tiny baby drones are so cute 

- The English dubbing in this is surprisingly good compared to the shows 

- Yes, good, the staring is starting 

- ...Wu Xie, you little shit 

 - He's so pleased with himself 

- Xiaoge is so confused until he explains it 

- OMG, a Xiaoge smile

- OMG A XIAOGE LAUGH

- Ah yes, multiple large tornadoes, a way to signify weird shit is going now 

- And weird spinny planets forming an...energy grid of some kind? 

- ...k 

- The mini drones apparently only pick up on people who are part of A-Ning's team, I guess

- JESUS 

- I mean, I had a strong suspicion that was gonna happen, but it still made me jump 

- Xiaoge to the rescue! 

- Damn, that sword is strong 

- This tomb definitely has a spider colony, but given it also has a bat colony that doesn't surprise me

- Those are some creepy looking mannequins 

- This set up looks like a game of Mouse Trap 

- A game of Mouse Trap with fire 

- That's actually a really cool way to light all the candles and lamps 

- I'm impressed that none of the cobwebs have caught on fire

- Oh, so NOW you use your flash, Wu Xie. When the room is all well lit and you don't actually need it 

- CREEEEEPY 

- Wu Xie and his compulsive need to touch things 

- Are all the puppets connected somehow, or are we gonna have spooky magical shit making them all come to life?

- Oh, the puppet band is like the bells, I guess 

- Huh, it seems Wu Xie's the only one who got thrown into memories in these illusions, everyone else's hallucination still has them inside the tomb 

- wtf, a lion is a weird thing to hallucinate

- Magic Zhang blood, go! 

- IDK why he needs to cut himself for each person, though, surely one cut should be enough to get all the drops of blood he needs 

- Good boy, Wu Xie, already so protective of his Xiaoge

- This really is a fucking platform game 

- Guys, this is why you study up on the raid mechanics BEFORE you enter the instance 

- Ahahahah, the music playing as Wu Xie basically dances with the sword trap

- lol, the look on Xiaoge's face as he realises Wu Xie is just...fucking dancing and taking photos 

- And that it's WORKING 

- OMFG, this is basically just a bizarre dance sequence 

- I love it 

- It's so stupid

- The puppets having fucking crossbows 

- Because ofc they do 

- Repeating crossbows 

- ...k 

- So now we have a room full of skeletons stuffed into cages 

- Why not 

- Ah, we're about to have bugs show up 

- Excellent 

- This is what I've been waiting for

- Let the hilarity begin continue 

- Dude, you can quit right now as much as you like, but it doesn't mean you're going to be able to get out of here by yourself 

- I guess this guy's gonna die now 

- For the tropes are hungry and must be fed 

- Much like the bugs

- Yep, here we go 

- Hello, shibie, I've been expecting you 

- These ones don't look as cartoonishly ridiculous as the ones in DMBJ 1, I'm sad 

- OMFG, it's eating the shovel/pick/thing 

- Okay, this is a good effort at cartoonish ridiculousness

- It's a lovely day in the tomb, and these are horrible shibie 

- Poor Wu Xie, so shocked at getting slapped

- And yeah. Yeah, that's about the only thing you can do there. 

- Only way to save the guy is to just give him a quick death so he doesn't suffer from being eaten alive

- They're lucky these shibie move so slowly. It gives them plenty of time to climb up onto those frames 

- lol, weird bendy sword again 

- Wow, good catch, Wu Xie 

- Y'know, Wu Xie, it might have been more useful to give the knife to Da Kui 

- And ofc Wu Xie falls down

- What is a DMBJ adaptation without Wu Xie getting himself into danger like this?

- That was so much wtf all at once 

- First, an unbroken flute just, like, laying there on the ground 

- Then, Wu Xie somehow thinking that playing it would save him from the bugs 

- Then that WORKED 

- He's like the fucking Pied Piper of the shibie 

- What even is this movie

- Haha, the little OK sign he flashes at Xiaoge 

- The wtf look on Xiaoge's face 

- Same, Xiaoge. Same 

- I love how everyone just. Accepts it & congratulates Wu Xie on being an awesome flute player 

- But then ig what else are you gonna do? 

- It's like, well, this may as well happen

- Sanshu's team really likes using grenades, huh? 

- Well, it does work pretty well! 

- See, Wu Xie, this is when you need to summon your bugs back

- On a completely different tangent, I cannot get over how weirdly the subs translate men you ping. I had to look up wtf shtum was. I've never come across it before. Is it something more commonly used in the US or something?

- Xiaoge, when you said you had a better way than digging under the door, I didn't think you meant just BATTERING THE FUCKING DOOR WITH THE SHOVEL 

- Oh, no, it's with your sword

- Because the best way to look after a sharp blade and keep it in good condition and keep a good edge is to...hack at rocks with it 

- Ofc 

- Why didn't I think of that? 

-  OK, ig fucking up your sword's edge did actually work, there's now a giant-ass hole in the door

- This is serious Day After Tomorrow vibes here

- Ah, yes, giant lightning strikes that cause so much force to travel through the earth that they can semi-collapse a tunnel deep underneath a mountain 

- Just your usual tomb robbing dangers 

- Physicists and meteorologists would have a fucking field day here

- Ah, I see we're at this level of the platform game 

- With the collapsing floor you need to get across without falling

- Okay, that's really kinda sweet of Wu Xie here. He thinks he's likely to die, and the most important thing to him is giving Xiaoge the pictures he took of him so that he doesn't lose all his memories 

- And aww, Xiaoge's so worried about him

- Like, I'm totally understanding why the transmigrated Wu Xie in that fic looked at these two and went "wow, we're so gay in this timeline" 

- Even the music in this scene is shipping it 

- Romantic line, and dramatic fall through the floor. Yep.

- I'm amazed he survived that fall, but it's Wu Xie, and he can't die 

- ...yes, ancient Persian architecture totally had anachronistic technology. Sure. This is definitely like that 

- omfg, they're statis chambers 

- 2000 year old stasis chambers

- Guess they're not worried about catching Sanshu and his team to get the key anymore. They've been kinda sidetracked 

- Side quests will do that 

- ...plant golems 

- "Don't shoot the thing that's in the process of murdering your friend! You might damage my research project!"

- Ew, that's not a nice death 

- Yes, good girl, A-Ning 

- That thing was just gonna kill your whole team otherwise 

- ...how did that laptop survive the blast enough for Wu Xie to be using it with no problem 

- That's one tough laptop 

- Where do I get one?

- And hey, I guess the one Chinese guy with A-Ning isn't actually one of her people, since she just, like, left him there 🤣 In the room with a plant golem 🤣 That she then threw a grenade into 🤣

 - ...omg, that's meant to be Pangzi?

- I was wondering why no Pangzi in the movie. I guess 3/4 of the way through isn't too late to properly intro him 

 - Ahahaha, Wu Xie actually thinks his bluff was super successful when there's a plant golem behind him 

- Xiaoge to the rescue again XD

- lol @ both Pangzi and Wu Xie using Xiaoge's sword as a restraint 

- ...surprise A-Ning! I wasn't expecting her to actually come back 

- And she's somehow lost all of her guys

- That's a lot of snakes, but I'm more interested in where all the water is coming from and why you can see the sun behind those shelves 

- Given how deep under a mountain they're supposed to be 

- I do love competent, pretty girls wielding huge fuckoff guns

- This door mechanism is so intricate (like the key/timer). So ofc I'm sure they're going to destroy it all 

 - Because that's how tomb raiding movies go

- Introduce a tomb with intricate and complex mechanisms far in advance of anything else known to that time period and civilisation, and then destroy them in dramatic fight and escape scenes 

- OMG the floor is lava 

 - Of course there's lava as well

- Oh, and it seems it's now all open to the sky 

- Ig the lightning which could mysteriously exert high levels of force must have smashed through the mountain and very neatly cleared it all way so that this part of the tomb and only this part of the tomb is now open air

- Wang Zanghai wishes he could go this extra with tomb building 

- And now Xiaoge being super extra to get across the destroyed section of the bridge 

- So this dude is gonna wake up just before Xiaoge gets there, isn't he? 

- And we're going to get an epic swordfight between them

- At least, it better be an epic swordfight 

- Otherwise this buildup will be very disappointing 

- Ah, yes, good, there we go 

- And all the plant golems are also waking up 

- ...along with a shitton of snakes 

- OMG the snakes have arms 

- The snakes 

- have arms

- OMG Xiaoge's sword is doing what now?��

- That's almost as ridiculous as the snakes with arms 

- It's like a sword designed by a 13 year old weeaboo boy

"it's gonna be ancient, and super strong, and nothing will ever make it blunt" 

"okay, seems like a typical magic sword so far, that's fair" 

"and you can bend it at right angles" 

"...you can what"

"and when it's bent at right angles, you can make it spin really fast and still use it like a proper sword" 

"...it what"

- ...the Snake Empress is reforming in her armour as thousands of little vines all coming together 

- k 

- Sure 

- This may as well happen 

- And her armour has boobplate, because ofc it does 

- Oh, she ain’t happy that Xiaoge just killed her plant golem boyfriend

- Her aesthetics are hilarious 

- It's part Queen of the Damned, part Little Shop of Horrors 

- Okay, snake lady, your worms might change the world but honestly I think that lightning would be more effective if you could control it

- Sanshu and co just randomly walk in through another entrance 

- Oh, and there's the rest of A-Ning's team

- I want the story behind this A-Ning and her team. The way they all call her captain, and follow her without a second word, and are so genuinely happy to see her. This isn't just a throw-together team, or a team that Hendrix put together and put her in charge of. This is her team, and there's an obvious history between them

- And snake lady is suddenly not looking as pretty as she was, for no discernible reason 

- One minute she's jumping around, the next she's all pale and falling apart. At least her face is 

- It's like she's decomposing throughout the fight

- And here come the snakes with arms 

- They move just as slowly as the shibie in here do 

- They jump pretty fast, though 

- RIP the next member of Sanshu's team 

- Yeah, machine guns aren't that effective against regular snakes, let alone magic snakes

- And the plant golems are here 

- RIP more of Sanshu's team 

- Ah, the little snakes with arms are all grown up and off to conquer the world

- ...omfg Pangzi 

- And this time it's A-Ning to the rescue 

- I love how quickly Wu Xie and Pangzi fall into the dynamic of a pair of clowns, regardless of adaptation

- RIP Harry. You went out like a badass 

- Oh wow, both teams are having some fucking epic sacrificial deaths in this fight scene 

- I like 

- And more cute pingxie, this time in flashbacks 

- lol, clearing out plant golem conversion by pure force of will

- ...and channeling blood down the grooves in the sword blade apparently...makes it sharper? 

- At least, it couldn't cut through the vines before, and now it can 

- That's not how magnetic fields work

- Ahahaha, Wu Xie pulling out his flute 

- He's gonna pull that Pied Piper shit again, isn't he? 

- Here come the shibie, come to nom on plant-snake-lady flesh! 

- She's having just as much trouble with them as everyone else does

- Because it's a lovely day in the tomb, and they are horrible shibie 

- Wow, she hits hard, she knocked Xiaoge like halfway across the chasm 

- Good thing there was a random broken pillar there

- Are they getting obliterated? 

- Ah, no, they're getting sucked up by the wind 

- Shibie-nado! 

- You know, I kinda like how bad Wu Xie's English is compared to everyone else who's spoken English so far 

- It nicely demonstrates who speaks it a lot and who doesn't

- Aw, Wu Xie, you're always so optimistic when you're baby 

- And it actually worked. I'm impressed. 

- Oh wow, A-Ning, that's some character development right there, caring about right or wrong instead of money

- Nice Pangi & A-Ning dynamic in this movie, given how they usually hate each other 

- This is definitely the final level of a platform game 

- Hahah, the two teams now 

- Awwwwwwww 😭

 - I think this is the first time I've seen Wu Xie rescue Xiaoge rather than vice versa 

- "I regret not locking you in the truck myself" 

 - Sorry, Xiaoge, I don't think you'd actually have much more luck with that than Sanshu did 

- Xiaoge, you really should have been more careful there, you almost did low Wu Xie 

- Good thing A-Ning was close by!

- ....the sword...is being used...as a boomerang 

- wtaf 

- Hahahah, the snakes' death throes, omg 

- lol what even was that ending

Overall: This movie was just one long DMBJ PingXie AU crackfic, and the author didn't know how to end it so just...didn't write an actual ending. That's the only way I can explain it. 

[wienerbarnes]

Cheek to Cheek (2/5)

Pairing: Bucky x Criminal!Reader

Word Count: 1,320

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping and unsafe kidnapped-related conditions

SERIES MASTERLIST

“This Hydra facility showed to be more blistering and tortuous than the last, only having a handful of survivors left! Look! There’s one! It’s a girl! It’s a girl! She’s smiling! She’s smiling! That’s clearly a smile!”

Bucky watches the frantic news reporter yell over your rescue and feels the hair on the back of his neck raise as he watches a wide grin stretch across your face. The video is shaky and chaotic but he can clearly make out the ragged and ripped up tactical gear on your body, large stars on the sleeves and the infamous skull and tentacles on the chest. Your body is drenched in blood and there’s even blood in the cracks of your teeth of your smile.

“They tried to find her family or at least someone who knows her, but nothing came of it. Once she was cleared from a hospital they advised intense therapy and later sent her off to a psychiatric ward. She killed three people there before they relocated her to a more military grade psych ward. She then killed a guard which put her on death row.” Sharon explains to Bucky once he pauses the video.

She has F.R.I.D.A.Y display multiple images as she speaks; holograms of you once you were cleaned up the hospital, pictures of your victims, crime scene photos, and more.

“What makes you think she knows anything about where these missing kids are? Besides the fact that she used to be Hydra?” Bucky asks.

“About a year ago there was another missing child case that the FBI was handling; a detective had a similar idea when they connected the dots to Hydra and they contacted her. She claimed that she could feel the child’s pain and then described the surroundings of where the child was later found in full detail. Some said it was luck, others said she was somehow connected with somebody on the outside, others said she was psychic and could truly see and feel these things.” Sharon finishes that last part with a small smirk on her face. Bucky sees Sam roll his eyes in his peripheries.

“I mean, after all the shit we’ve seen, I’m not surprised…” Bucky trails off as he glances back down at the laptop in front of him, the screen paused on your face; your creepy smile disturbing him and making him feel uneasy.

“I set up a time to talk to her tomorrow morning. The ward warned us that… she’s not exactly stable. They said not to expect much.” Sam clarifies and Bucky assumes he’s going through with this because it was Sharon’s idea. 

“Tell me about the missing teenagers.” 

“James Summers and Elizabeth Hawley - both 19, both students at Columbia University, both studying biophysics with concentrations in genetics. Summers is leaning towards molecular enhancements while Hawley’s leaning towards changes in future evolution. Sound familiar?” Sharon teases. 

“Hydra’s favorite meal. What did the FBI figure out before handing it over to us?” 

“They made a connection to another couple of students kidnapped a year ago, to the day. They were found murdered about 8 days after their abduction; except this happened at Duke University.” Sam interrupts.

“...So five days? That’s a grim deadline.” Bucky’s brow twitches at the thought of these kids being killed for their knowledge.

Sharon and Sam don’t audibly answer but Bucky’s throat goes dry as he understands their silence.

…

“Let’s deal, shall we?”

Bucky, Sam, and Sharon sit across from you in the interrogation room of the psych ward. Your wrists are cuffed, but not to the table, and your ankles are shackled; the metal clanking against the metal chair you sit in every couple of minutes. Your orange jumpsuit is bright against your otherwise depressed skin; it’s obvious it’s been awhile since it’s gotten any care. 

Bucky notes that you’re a small little thing. Short, strong build but definitely not big enough to take down anyone too much larger than you. The only other color on your body besides your jumpsuit is a baby blue string bracelet on your left wrist and a small tattoo on your neck; a Japanese style Hannya mask with bright red skin and teal eyes. Your fingers are skinny as they twitch against each other and Bucky can only imagine when it was the last time you had a fulfilling meal. He wonders how much he really has in common with you.

“My life… for the kids.” You smile brightly. Although your features are exaggerated as you speak, Bucky can hardly see any emotion in your face; you feel absolutely nothing.

“You’re gonna have to do a little more for me first.” Sam says as he stands, taking a small clear bag out of the backpack Sharon brought. Inside the bag sits a small square of blue fabric.

Bucky glances at Sharon for clarification but she stares straight ahead at you. I’m sure Bird Brain has a reason.

Sam removes the fabric from the bag and places it in your hands. You immediately grip it tightly and close your eyes.

The longer you hold onto the fabric, the tighter your grip is and the more laboured your breathing becomes. Suddenly you gasp loudly and  Bucky flinches a bit.

“Pain! I feel pain… It’s dark. Dark and cold, so cold,” Your eyes open wide and Bucky can see tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Your knuckles are turning white from how hard you’re holding onto the fabric.

“The-the boy. His-his hands are- they’re tied with twine… packing twine. A-and a hanger. They whip him with a coat hanger. A wire coat hanger... “ You trail off as tears begin to fall down your cheeks and your hands begin to shake. 

“A cellar… Warehouse, condemned. An angel of stone. Waterfall. W-water falling. N-not water. They’re there.” You gasp.

Bucky scribbles down what you’re saying just in case, but he feels Sam’s annoyance from where he’s sitting and assumes they won’t be coming back here.

Bucky knows Hydra experimented, but people who can see things like this? From touching fabric? It unlikely; Hydra wanted soldiers, not mind readers. Perhaps the other case she helped solve was pure luck.

“Oh, God… oh, God…” You mumble as Sam finally approaches you and crouches down to meet your eyes. 

He plucks the fabric from your fingers roughly, “I tore this off the back of my New York Knicks T-shirt.” He whispers, “It has nothing to do with the crime.”

Sam stands as a buzzer is sounded, signaling the unlocking of the door and he walks out as Sharon follows. Bucky stands and gathers his notebook and slides the cap on his pen, putting both in Sharon’s backpack and heads towards the open door. 

“Heaven, I’m in heaven… And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak…” 

Bucky freezes at the doorway as he hears your voice singing softly. 

“And I seem to find the happiness that I seek… When we’re out together, dancing cheek to cheek…” You trail off.

Bucky slowly turns around to face you and sees Steve sitting in your spot smiling at him and he quickly shuts his eyes. One… Two… Three… Bucky counts in his head before slowly opening his eyes to see you staring at him, small innocent smile on your face, eyes staring at him with almost a hint of love and adoration.

“I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, pal.” You speak to him, voice soft and inviting. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat and he feels like he’s about to throw up. He quickly turns and catches up with his partners, accidentally brushing past Sharon with a bit of force.

“You okay, Bucky? Did she say something to you?” Sharon asks, resting a gentle hand on his upper arm.

“Uh, n-no. She didn’t. I just, uh, I gotta get home.” Bucky spits out. 

Sam and Sharon don’t question it.

[tirednotflirting]

haunting me forever from the start

some spooky season Cake for @ashesonthefloor‘s halloween fic event :) 

so so much thanks to ainslee for organizing such a fun event !! i feel so fortunate to have the opportunity to take part in something with some of my favorite writers and people and if you haven’t dug through everyone else’s posts i recommend checking out the event masterlist here !!

alright you’re gonna have to forgive me because i have never been to a haunted house and i wrote most of this in the middle of the night after work and I was always too scared to find haunted house pov videos at that hour. so i took some creative liberties on some of this.

also this is likely pushing the limits of how much fluff i should be allowed to fit into something but i promised miss meg Cake fluff after the other piece i posted of them earlier this week sjdflksdj

soooooo my prompt was: “We’re part of the same group in this haunted house, and you won’t stop clinging to me every time we get spooked.” Or, one person is really clingy with someone else in their group. It’s a good thing they’re cute. They can either know each other or not.

okay enjoy the silly fun and happy halloween !!!

{read on ao3 here}

Genuinely, Calum should have expected this when he told Michael he could pick out their Friday night activity.

Or well, Calum really hadn’t gotten the choice in picking what they did since he only got out of his calculus midterm probably forty-five minutes earlier and Michael picked him up, and rather than driving back to their shared apartment for another movie night, they’re now somewhere on the north side of town in a parking lot. It’s the parking lot at the fairgrounds which at first had Calum confused because Michael hasn’t been a fan of this fair since the trouble he had with the corn dogs here about a year ago. But then Michael asks him to grab the folded papers out of the glovebox and after just a bit of inspection, Calum learns the real reason they’re here.

“No. No way.” Calum shakes his head, his arms folding across his chest, defensively.

“Come one, Cal,” Michael whines. “You’ve barely left campus or the apartment in weeks because of midterms. You can’t tell me that you really wanted to spend another night watching superhero movies in the living room.”

“That’s literally exactly what I wanted to do tonight. Mikey, my brain basically melted during that exam.”

“Great,” Michael starts as he swipes the papers from Calum’s hand and moves to open his car door. “Then this haunt probably won’t even scare you too bad like the ones we tried last year.”

Calum huffs out a breath as he opens his own door, slamming it closed a bit harder than probably necessary and joins Michael in front of the car. It’s early October so the air in their college town is cool but not yet cold. Either way, he’s thankful for the hoodie he had decided to bring to campus that morning. They head up in the direction of the fairgrounds and Calum lets Michael lead since he obviously has a bit more of an idea about where they’re headed.

“Or that’ll just make it even worse.” Calum tries to argue. “I’m barely a functioning human right now. My head is filled with integrals and fear, Michael.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be right there with you the whole time and if it really is that bad, I’ll owe you a hot chocolate and funnel cake once we get out, okay?”

Calum purses his lips in thought for a moment because that is a pretty good deal, all things considered. Plus he hasn’t had anything to eat since the late lunch he had a few hours before his exam and his stomach is yelling at the mere mention of junk food. “Fine.” he concedes. “But you aren’t allowed to make fun of me like last year if I get freaked out in there, okay?”

“You got it.”

They continue through the fair, the bright lights around the food and game booths starting to light up all colors of the rainbow as the sun makes its final descent below the horizon. It’s an awfully cheery prelude to a haunted house, Calum thinks, and he’s kinda surprised Michael somehow found a haunted house nestled into the middle of a fall fair. Around them, families and groups of high school kids wander with bright eyes and smiles from booth to booth. Kids clutch sugary treats and oversized stuffed animals while parents follow closely behind. Young couples wait in line for the ferris wheel and share clouds of cotton candy. It’s all such a rosy picture of an autumn evening and Calum wishes he were taking part in this rather than heading up toward the nightmare factory Michael is leading him towards.

Eventually, they reach a barricade where some kid in a neon t-shirt with the name of the haunted house printed across the front scans the printed tickets that Michael has and they’re pointed toward a line forming outside of the metal building that’s likely has some other not-so-spooky purpose outside of the month of October. In front of Michael and Calum are a group of boys probably around middle school age, if Calum had to guess. He’s considering how mortifying it’s going to be when a bunch of actual children hear him scream when Michael chimes in, as though hearing Calum’s thoughts.

“See, Cal,” Michael lets his elbow drop to lean on Calum’s shoulder. “These kids aren’t even scared of this. You’ll be totally fine.”

Calum is moments away from giving a snarky response when he catches a glimpse of the people in line behind them as he turns in Michael’s direction.

And of course the most beautiful boy he has ever laid his eyes on is just steps behind him and also about to witness Calum shriek like a baby at the sight of a clown or something.

The boy is accompanied by another (though their body language seems to be mimicking Calum and Michael as they laugh at something on a phone screen so for the time being he decides they are not on a date) and he’s tall, taller than Calum by a few inches probably. He’s got curly blonde hair tied up back into a little bun though the cool evening breeze has some of the hair around his face blowing into his blue eyes. Calum is trying not to be overdramatic but he thinks he might be looking at an angel. (Or a really pretty demon. He is like, seconds away from walking into one of his greater fears, after all.)

He shakes his head before abruptly turning back toward the front of the line to avoid staring when Michael, of course, decides to take a look at what Calum had been glancing towards. His face lights up and Calum assumes he’s about to be teased until they head into the haunt when Michael himself blushes just slightly across his nose before speaking. “Ashton! Is that you?”

The boy walking up with the angel pulls the hood from his sweatshirt off from around his head and smiles brightly. “Michael, funny seeing you here. How’s it going?”

“Doing well. Finally got the roommate out for an evening on the town since he’s been studying like it’s his full time job for the last three weeks.”

“Michael, we’re sophomores. Studying actually is my full time job,” Calum pouts. Great, he thinks, now the cute boy is going to think he’s a total nerd. Which he absolutely is but that’s not the point.

Ashton laughs at the exchange. “He’s got you there,” he starts while extending a hand out toward Calum. “I’m Ashton. Michael and I took developmental psychology together during summer session. This is my roommate, Luke.”

Calum accepts Ashton’s hand and smiles shyly first at him and then Luke, who holds his hand up in a short wave as Ashton introduces him. “I’m Calum. It’s nice to meet you guys.”

Similar greetings are exchanged among the four of them as they go through obligatory What’s your major? Where are you from? undergrad small talk as the line inches toward the entrance.

Michael and Ashton eventually pull the conversation toward what they’re taking in their psychology classes this semester (Ashton is a year ahead of the rest of them and Michael very obviously wants the low down on the finals he’ll be taking at the end of the semester but also Ashton’s number if Calum is reading the signs correctly). Luke laughs and turns his eyes toward Calum's as they’re shut out of the conversation.

Suddenly Luke is leaning in toward Calum's ear and he swears his heart skips a beat because Luke is very cute and smells very nice. Luke giggles softly before speaking quietly enough that it’s obvious he’s trying to avoid the other two hearing him. “Ash used to come home from that class with heart eyes, I swear. If he doesn’t get the guts to ask Michael out before the end of the night, we may need to take matters into our hands.”

Calum grins, feeling accomplished that he read the situation correctly. “You like playing matchmaker then?”

“Only when it’s for people being that dumb.” Luke gestures over to the blushing pair standing a couple feet away from them. He’s got a point, Calum admits silently. He’s been friends with Michael since they were kids and he knows that flirty face anywhere.

“Alright so if we get to the other side of this and they’re not exchanging numbers, how subtle do we go about suggesting they get together again to geek out about psych theories?”

Luke shakes his head, a playful grin playing at his lips. “Oh no, I’ve always found greater success with a more direct approach. It’s the engineering major in me. We like to face our problems head on.”

Calum is opening his mouth to make another comment back (though he will admit, trying to fit flirting into an exchange about setting up his best friend is a bit of a challenge he’s realizing) when the line starts moving again, bringing them just about to the front of the line. And of course, Calum was too distracted by the short banter the line allowed to pay attention to how much time had passed and now he’s just about to step into this mess of an idea of Michael’s.

The group of kids that had been in front of Michael and Calum are let in with the family that had been just before them, and the person running the door lets the four of them along with the couple behind Ashton and Luke know they’ll go through the haunt as a group. Ashton lets out a short laugh once the kids head off into the darkened doorway. “Honestly, glad we’re not going through with them. Love a haunted house but I swear kids will just scream so loud for fun in these things.”

Calum watches the three of them agree and he finds himself nodding but also silently preparing himself for being the annoying kid screaming. Though in his case it’s more because he’s a bit of a wimp and not just doing it for fun.

He chats back and forth with Luke for a few more minutes while they wait for their turn to head inside. Luke’s telling him about some ridiculous thing that happened in one of his labs the week before and Calum finds himself a little shocked at how quickly their conversation has become so comfortable. He’s not used to feeling so at ease with people so quickly that aren’t Michael or maybe his sister. He would sit with the feeling for longer, really let himself think on why he might be feeling that way, but then the kid at the door is telling them to head on inside.

The haunt starts basically in Calum’s least favorite kind of way. (Though given his disdain for these things, it’s not like he has a favorite but that doesn’t change how this is his least favorite.) It’s nearly pitch black as the group of six step inside and it’s just a little bit too quiet, the only sound in the room being the wind blowing against the metal roof of the building. He hears some snickering coming from the group that he tries to focus on as he squeezes his eyes shut and wills them to adjust to the lack of light.

Soon enough though there’s some scratching noises coming from the corners of the room and a couple actors in dark, obscure costumes pop out in the direction of their group. Calum contains most noises of panic, really just gasping as his feet stop short. The chest of the person walking behind him collides with his back while a gentle hand grabs onto his shoulder as the person steadies. Automatically, Calum assumes the person to be Michael since he’s typically the one jumping to comfort Calum with such little hesitation.

But then just in front of him he hears a giggle that he knows belongs to his best friend and he feels his forehead scrunching up in confusion until a voice speaks quietly near his ear. “You good?” Luke asks him, his hand still placed comfortingly against his shoulder. Calum feels his face relax then, his mind just a bit more at ease knowing that it’s not that other couple with them stuck behind his panicked body.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” Calum whispers back to Luke after clearing his throat. Luke’s hand drops from his arm after what feels like a gentle squeeze and they continue on ahead. Calum takes a deep breath both in an effort to calm himself and in annoyance. Not only is he going to have nightmares for weeks after this but there’s also no way in hell he’ll be able to make eye contact with Luke once they’re out of this thing.

The scary noises drift in and out and Calum finds that those aren’t too bad. The hissing of a smoke machine lets him anticipate the floor of the next room being covered in a fog and he feels pretty proud of himself when he gets it right. The room isn’t too bad; the actors in there are obviously meant to be some brand of zombie and it was only about a week earlier that Michael and Calum did a rewatch of Zombieland for movie night so the memory leaves him giggling along with everyone else for once.

Calum is just starting to believe that maybe he’s got a grip of things this time around in terms of containing his fear at the whole situation when suddenly the room is filled with strobe lights and loud noises (chainsaws, maybe?) and Luke’s chest is once again colliding with Calum’s back as he shoots back some at the noise. This time around Calum feels gentle hands moving to hold onto his arms, the touch instantly one that calms him and gets his feet to start moving in the direction of the rest of the group again. Calum focuses on the feel of Luke’s warm hands tapping out a beat against the fabric of his sweatshirt and his view of the back of Michael’s head as they move down the path set out in the room to avoid looking at his surroundings too much.

The haunt isn’t a long one and according to what Calum had heard Michael saying about this place on their walk into the fairgrounds earlier in the night, there should only be a couple more rooms before their group reaches the end. Calum continues to jump at most of what is set up throughout them but he feels a lot more grounded and at ease than he typically would since about 75% of his attention is laser focused on the hand that Luke eventually moves to rest between Calum’s shoulders.

Soon enough though they’re back outside in the cool fall air and under the colorful lights of the fair. The settings oppose each other quite extremely, Calum thinks while he makes a little huddle with the other three boys. He can’t help but notice how Luke’s hand has yet to drop from his back and he leans just slightly back into his touch. Michael and Ashton are babbling along together and don’t notice the silent actions of the other two but when Calum turns toward Luke, their eyes meet and Luke’s already blushy cheeks go just a bit more pink.

Luke’s hand drops away from Calum’s back then and a confused look drops to his face. Luke looks toward the ground, a nervous smile playing at his lips. “Sorry I didn’t like, ask before trying to comfort you in there. Not exactly appropriate of an almost stranger, I guess.”

Calum shrugs. “It was welcomed, honestly,” he starts, his grin growing as Luke looks up at him a bit shocked. “I mean, I was very obviously ready to run out of there like two minutes in. You’re basically the only reason I didn’t turn and immediately head out. So, thank you.”

“Any time.” Luke smiles brightly.

They continue to just stare at one another for a few moments, neither really knowing what to say next, when Ashton clearing his throat pulls them out of it. Calum turns his face toward the other two and tries to control his shock when he sees Michael’s lazy grin and strong grip on Ashton’s hand. Ashton gives them a knowing smile.

“We’re gonna go grab some snacks and maybe try out some of the games. Meet back at the entrance to the fairgrounds in an hour?” he coordinates, already starting to walk backwards away from the two of them.

“Sounds like a plan,” Luke answers for them. “Have fun, boys.

Ashton raises his free hand to give a short salute before turning and pulling Michael toward the row of food booths. “So they figured things out then?” Calum says as they watch their friends walk off.

“Apparently.”

Calum laughs quietly and moves to step in front of Luke. He’s not that great at being bold (especially after being terrified for twenty minutes straight) but he figures he could at least give it a shot. “Guess it’s our turn?”

Luke’s gaze pulls away from their friends to meet Calum’s eyes again. “What?”

“Let me buy you a hot chocolate as a thank you for protecting me in there?”

Luke smirks and replies quickly with his own request. “Only if you’ll let me take you out for coffee next week.”

Calum sticks his hand out between the two of them. “Deal.”

They giggle as they shake on it and then start off in the direction that their friends went just a few moments before them. Luke is quick to reach for Calum’s hand and weave their fingers together as he starts a rundown of questions that should feel like small talk but for some reason they don’t. Calum figures it has to do something with the attentive look in Luke’s eyes or the smile pulling across his face as Calum speaks about something as mundane as the calculus exam he took earlier in the night. Though it also again feels like it could be something more, something bigger than that.

But Calum’s mind is a crazy mix of adrenaline from the haunted house and endless thanks to Michael for bringing them out tonight and trying to pick out the perfect way to describe the blue of Luke’s eyes. For now, he decides, it’s enough to squeeze his palm against Luke’s to pull him in the direction of the hot chocolate with sprinkles and worry about the bigger stuff another day.

*

It’s a year later when Calum is sitting at the kitchen counter, staring at his statistics homework like it’s in another language and Luke is laying on the couch scrolling through his phone, his homework already finished. The university was closed that day due to the snow so Luke had decided it wasn’t worth it to go back to his own apartment after reading the email notification that morning.

Calum is too focused on the problems on the page in front of him to hear Luke pad over into the kitchen so he jumps just the slightest bit when he feels a pair of warm arms wrap around his middle. Even on the coldest days Luke is warm like sunshine, Calum has come to know and love in the last year. He lets his pen drop against the counter as he lifts a hand to play with the curls around Luke’s ear when he leans down and lets his chin rest against Calum’s shoulder. “What’s up, love? I’m almost done with this and then we can watch a movie or something while we get dinner going.”

Luke hums in agreement with the plan, his face turning a bit to press a kiss against Calum’s cheek. “I was thinking about date night next week. And I think we should do that haunted house at the fair again.”

Calum sighs and turns his head then. “Luke, I love you but despite the incredibly cute, horror loving boy that guided me through half of that thing, I still really don’t like haunted houses.”

Luke pouts then and huffs out a little sigh. “Fine,” he starts, his arms wrapping a bit tighter around Calum. “We should do something special though. Think anniversaries are supposed to be celebrated, right?”

“We could still go to the fair if you want?” Calum suggests with a shrug. “I’ve always wanted to be kissed at the top of a ferris wheel.”

“I think that could be arranged,” Luke smiles before pressing another quick kiss against Calum’s hair.

Luke stands up straight then, not giving Calum more than a moment to respond to the sweet words, and heads into the kitchen. Calum lifts his arm to rest against the countertop and lets his chin fall into his hand as he watches while Luke starts pulling things out of the fridge to make dinner. (It’s my night to cook, Cal, don’t you dare try getting up.) He decides then that he’ll probably go ahead and buy a couple tickets to the haunted house as a surprise for when they go to the fair the following week. Because if there’s anything Calum has learned in the last year, it’s that nothing can ever feel too scary or unsafe with Luke at his side.

*

[dontgotothenetherworld]

ap psychology

anonymous asked:  Can I request readers putting all her studying off till the week before AP exams and she starts studying an unhealthy amount, like sometimes forgetting to eat all day because of it and even made herself sick from stress over it but reader refuses to complain because she did it to herself and Lydia's just there helping her review and making sure she takes time to care for herself ect? Bonus if Reader thinks she did bad and Lydia assuring her she did fine and has an 'i told you don't moment? 

anonymous asked: Totally didn't request that bc that's my situation-

for some reason when i tried to queue this w/ the original ask, tumblr wanted to put the cut in the ask and i couldn’t delete it

this is out of date now, but i was uninspired to write for a hella long time sorry. also! i’m going to draw from my experiences w/ ap this year, and the only ap exam i had to take was psych, so that’s also going to be the case for reader :)

also, i feel like my lydia is a bit out of character? idk it’ll probably take a while to get back to the way i used to write her.

1303 words

cw: femreader. food

you cursed under your breath. months ago, months! you told yourself you would start studying for your ap exam. you only had the one exam to study for, so you told yourself that if you just did a little bit everyday, you would be fine.

but here you were, about three days until your ap psychology exam, and you hadn’t studied any of it. you had hardly even watched the videos your teacher had posted as the digital learning content. but to be fair, the stuff he was talking about in them were the last unit or two of psych, and you wouldn’t have to worry about them, because you weren’t going to be tested on them.

you groaned and dragged your feet downstairs, to where you hid your backpack. the friday weeks ago, when your school told everyone that classes would go digital for a few weeks because of the coronavirus, your teacher had come prepared. he gave everyone that showed up to class, which, granted, wasn’t that many but still- a huge packet covering everything that you had studied this year. it was some forty pages long.

okay, it was, like, thirty five because you crossed out the pages about personality and disorders. which was a shame, because those are the units that everyone takes psychology to learn about. no one goes, “oh boy, i can’t wait to learn about how to test if a baby has depth perception!” or “i can’t wait to learn about all the different types of visual illusions!” but whatever.

you flipped to page thirty five, to see how many questions you were in for. just over 250, except that’s counting all the charts as individual questions. yeah, that makes sense. one and a half pages of listing what researchers discovered what is equivalent to answering which cortex of the brain processes visual stimuli.

wait a minute. lydia was also taking psych. studying sucks, but if you could do it with your girlfriend, that’d be so much less painful.

you texted her, “hey lyds, have u finished the psych packet yet?”

”yea i finished it yesterday, why?” she texted back almost immediately.

shit. looks like you’ll have to suffer through this alone. “nvm”

you looked at the time, 1:46. damn, already? it felt like you had only just woken up. you made yourself a coffee, and set up shop on the desk you have never used in your bedroom, with laptop open beside you. you planned on googling everything, rather than going through your notes, mostly because you forgot where you put them, but this would still take ages.

an hour passed, and you felt like you were dying on the inside. if you had to answer one more question about behavioral psych, you were going to scream. behavioral psych is by far the worst part of psychology! watson and skinner be damned! people are people not some computer code! people have feelings! you can’t just ignore them! and the feeling you were feeling right now was not a good one!

you wanted to stop, but you weren’t sure if you stopped now if you’d be able to finish the packet. so you kept on going.

you went another five hours, taking five minute tik tok breaks every hour to keep you sane. you looked at the clock, and realized you hadn’t eaten anything today. you grabbed a box of cheez-its and made your way back upstairs, and went back to work. this time, you ate a cheez-it every time you finished a question, or you filled out a row in a chart.

you didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you woke up in the morning with about half the packet filled out. considering the exam was in one day, and four-ish hours, you thought that was good.

as you made your morning coffee, you checked the messages lydia had sent you. “are you doing okay? normally we talk a lot but…” “wait, are you working on the study guide?” “y/n! please take breaks! remember! you need food!” “and water!”

you sent back, “if i eat my cheez-its, and i drink my coffee while i study, then i don’t have to take breaks.”

you went back to your desk, and plugged your phone in across the room so you wouldn’t be distracted. but also because you forgot to charge it before you passed out, so it was at three percent, because apparently you had kept it open to tik tok all night, and the video just kept looping. oops.

for a while, the studying seemed easier. you felt like you had less to do, and you didn’t need to worry about getting it done in time, because you had more than enough of it. but because you didn’t need to rush, you became more productive.

you finished the second half of the packet by six that evening. you do admit, you got a bit lazy in the last few pages, but it was done!

shit. studying isn’t just writing stuff down, you have to read it over, right? you don’t really study that much.

but you decided to take an hour or two’s break for… breakfast? dinner? maybe even lunch? whatever, leftover pizza, because you had just only now just realized the intense rumbling in your stomach.

you checked your phone for the first time in hours. you were actually kind of proud of yourself. you usually were on your phone every waking hour, which was probably a problem, but you had shown enormous restraint… by spending every waking hour staring at your laptop. it’s all about choosing your battles.

you quickly dismissed some twitter notifications before tapping on a new message from lydia. “babe, i’m getting really worried about you, please call me when you see this.” you furrowed your brows. worried? about you? why?

you called lydia, and she picked up nearly immediately.

”y/n!” she gasped with relief, “don’t do that to me again!”

you felt stupid for wondering what she was talking about, but you kind of needed to know, “what do you mean?”

”you’ve been offline for hours, and i couldn’t get to you! and then when i heard what you were eating, that got me worried. have you eaten today?”

”three slices of pizza right now.” you swallowed a bite.

”is that your first meal today?”

”unless you count coffee, yeah. i’ll do better tomorrow, i promise. speaking of tomorrow, we’ve got the psych exam, and i need to keep studying. i’ll call after the exam, so like three?”

”y/n.”

”yeah?”

”you do realize this exam is online, right? and at home?”

”uh, yeah.” you swallowed.

”and you have both a laptop and a phone?”

”lydia, what are you saying?” cheating. she was definitely talking about cheating.

”i’m saying, that you don’t really need to know the definitions, because our dear old pal google can be there to help you out with those. and you’re smart, so i assume you know the concepts.”

”you think very highly, of me, my dear.” you took another bite of pizza. “so, what you’re saying is, i wasted two days studying?”

”yes, that is exactly what i’m saying.”

”shit. wait, why were you studying?”

”ugh, because i am nowhere near as good as you at being able to understand things.”

”you know, definitions explain the concept too.”

”what are you saying?” asked lydia.

”i think we’ve both wasted a lot of time studying when we didn’t need to.”

”fuck.” lydia breathed.

”yeah, we’re both idiots. do you wanna watch something on netflix? you haven’t finished parks and rec yet, right?”

”no, i just finished an episode before you called me.”

”which one?”

”season four, episode seven.”

”wait, is the next episode smallest park? we need to watch that, like, now.”

@meangirlsx @meangirlmurphy @eliza-is-confused @boredomimi @book--butterfly

[maggotsandcream]

Finally got around to watching a playthrough of Mario and Luigi: Partners in Time

I have thoughts as always, a lot of them. Spoilers ahoy!

First off, it is 100% on brand for E. Gadd to build a time machine and decide that the most ethical way to test it would be to send his head of state and her entourage into the past while taking exactly zero safety precautions. What's far more eyebrow raising is that clearly multiple other people starting with Peach herself had to sign off on this.

Maybe if past!Mushroom Kingdom employed an army that was composed of more than literally 2 toddlers they wouldn't have gotten so trounced by the aliens that it resembled the first part of a Doctor Who Christmas special.

I should note that none of these things are criticisms. I find the lack of two brain cells to rub together throughout the Mushroom Kingdom both past and present delightful.

I read a fan theory that the reason no one knew about the Shroobs in the present was because they hadn't actually attacked in the past at first and it was the whacky time machine antics that sucked them into the past from the present when they were originally going to attack the Mushroom Kingdom and oddly that tracks pretty well and I think I will adopt that as my own headcanon.

Of course, considering it's also Mario canon that multiple universes exist and the universe they live in periodically collapses and gets shuffled around could easily account for this too.

Baby Mario whacking everything in reach with his hammer is probably one of the more accurate portrayals of toddlers in video games. The rest of it obviously isn't, but that particular aspect jibes pretty well with my admittedly limited experience of 2-year-olds.

The enemies in general have pretty neat designs.

I liked that those elderly toad women being red/green twins called back to Superstar Saga where there were just so many red/green twins hanging around. Oddly, between the hammer bros and the Shroob princesses notably not following that pattern it seems like only twins with a good alignment get the red/green color scheme.

"Honey, the stork has arrived with our new babies! Isn't that wonderful?" "Oh yes but what color are their *whispers* hats?" "Fear not, they have a red and a green hat. They aren't predestined to become at best morally ambiguous." *sighs with relief*

"Toad and Toad, why have you taken to a life of crime? It pains me and your father so much." "You see mother, our favorite colors are...orange and blue." *sorrowful wailing*

"Mama, how come all the other twins in the village are red and green, but Toad and I are brown and green?" "You see Toad, there is this tragic medical condition known as evil twin syndrome..."

Doctors write up case study on a pair of identical twins who were both delivered with red hats. They get put through a whole battery of psych evals many times over to try to determine whether they are good, bad, or in between. Turns out they're literally just normal kids.

Wario and Waluigi would fit this pattern.

You can apparently have a good alignment with any color scheme as long as you don't have a twin, though.

Wait, so Luigi's Mansion implies that E. Gadd is 80 and that he'd been researching ghosts for about 60 years, but Partners in Time implies that he's 40 and has only been researching them for 20 years? I suppose it's possible that the age difference came about through irresponsible time machine use considering that it's canon that he kept the time machine and used it again having learned nothing but who knows.

Actually, how many of these games' plots are the result of E. Gadd throwing caution to the wind, lmao.

Between fat shaming Mario and just plain bullying Luigi, the Star Gate is a bit of a prick. That said, I'm really curious what he told Luigi is horrible sins were that were preventing him from going through the gate. Sure, he was bluffing in order to test Mario, but whatever he said was something that Luigi at least thought was horrible enough to disqualify himself and did not want revealed out loud to the group. I actually went looking for speculation on this because I think it would be really interesting but I haven't been able to find any. So I'll start with a bit of my own speculation:

"I couldn't help but notice you have a little bit of a cowardice and jealousy problem." "I know, and I know that if my brother and our past selves noticed this, the most obvious pair of flaws I have which everyone keeps commenting on, they surely will abandon me and no longer love me.😔" "...You've also got massive problems with understanding how other people perceive you."

"Look, I don't care if he started it, but it was not very heroic of you to threaten to beat Purple Mustache to death with his own tennis racket. Seriously, what's wrong with you? You've got to be the bigger person here." "But he's literally bigger than me." "The fate of the world rests upon my judgment of your soul and you think this is the time for sarcasm and backchat?!" "Oh no, you're right. I am such a selfish person.😔"

"Actually, you're basically fine Green Mustache, but I'm legally required to put the hero through a moral test before letting the party through, the hero in this case being your brother. Can I have your cooperation for the next few minutes? It needs to look like I just scolded you for something." "Yes of course. 😔"

[b-skarsgard]

Bill Skarsgård is on his feet, furiously pumping his arms back and forth. Standing 6-foot-4, he could cover a lot of ground if he wanted to, but he’s channeling a specific 5-year-old at play here.

We are talking about picking up other people’s physicalities and incorporating bits and pieces of them into his characters when he shoots up to demonstrate his bag of tricks. Standing in the open space of an Upper West Side home’s library, he brings his shoulders up to his ears, keeping the energy in his top half akin to a runner sprinting to his finish line, while from the waist down he appears more as a slow loris than Sonic the Hedgehog.

“That’s my little brother [Ossian],” Skarsgård says with a laugh, explaining the movement’s inspiration. “He’s 10 now, but when he was 4 or 5, he had a really funny way of running. You ever see kids do this? It’s the funniest thing ever.” Funny, sure, but when done by someone of the actor’s stature, slightly bewildering and creepy. “If you look at Pennywise,” he says, “Pennywise does this.”

Skarsgård is, of course, referring to his biggest role to date: Stephen King’s clown creation at the center of the “It” film franchise. As the evil entity known for eating children alive, Skarsgård has taken Pennywise the Dancing Clown—first imagined in King’s 1986 behemoth novel before being brought to the screen by Tim Curry in a campy 1990 miniseries—and morphed him into a truly terrifying being who brings into vivid clarity just how scary circus attire can be.

In case you somehow missed it, “It” premiered in 2017 and quickly became a pop culture phenomenon, grossing $700 million worldwide and breaking the record for the highest-grossing horror film of all time. It inspired Halloween costumes, “Saturday Night Live” spoofs, and a whole new generation of genre fans who will never look at red balloons the same way again.

Skarsgård and his cast—which includes kid co-stars Finn Wolfhard (“Stranger Things”), Jaeden Martell (“Masters of Sex”), Sophia Lillis (“Sharp Objects”), and a standout Jack Dylan Grazer (“Shazam!”), plus their adult counterparts Bill Hader, James McAvoy, Jessica Chastain, and James Ransone, respectively—are hoping to catch lightning in a bottle once more this September with “It Chapter Two.” Picking up 27 years after the first film and Pennywise’s apparent—but temporary—defeat at the hands of the Losers Club, the film is another chance for Skarsgård to showcase the impressive physicality and personality he brought to Round 1.

Just minutes into a conversation with the actor—and after that performance of a 5-year-old running—it’s clear his calculated character work is thanks to a keen sense of observation. Take the Swede’s analysis of Scandinavian cities, for instance: His hometown of Stockholm is not as laid-back as Copenhagen, which by comparison feels more European. Having been raised in Sweden to a family of acting royalty—Stellan Skarsgård (an Emmy nominee this year for “Chernobyl”) is his father and Alexander Skarsgård (Emmy winner for “Big Little Lies”) is his brother—he recalls his people as more serious, the type to follow rules and structure.

His observations let him steal tangible details and tics from strangers, friends, family, and cultures, pulling them into the people (and, in the case of “It,” evil entities) he plays.

“Sometimes I even do it subconsciously, where I do something in a scene and I’m like, Wait a minute, that’s the guy from the subway. I saw this guy and I thought he was weird. Now I just did it in a scene,” he says, getting excited. “I fucking love when it happens so much because it’s literally happening in the moment.”

He’s not Method in his acting, but Skarsgård’s approach certainly feels all-encompassing. He has the capacity to go so deep that he makes it a point to draw clear boundaries for himself; during the audition process, he consciously avoids getting too attached to the role, limiting his prep work to memorizing the sides and making a strong, well-thought-out choice about the character he’s playing.

“You can prepare as much as you want—prepare in terms of the scene or think about the character, but the research I put into a role is emotional, especially if I have a book to read about it,” he says. “The ‘It’ book is a really particular one, but usually, [if] you read about the character, delving much deeper into who [they are], you start getting emotionally attached. You can get emotionally attached to a character without doing much research at all. It’s just shitty when you don’t book it... For me, when I book it is when I let myself go [and] really feel safe to emotionally give so much of myself to it.”

His wariness is understandable when you look at his résumé. Life for any actor naturally ebbs and flows between bookings and rejections, but that’s amplified for an actor like Skarsgård, who has built a career on playing brooding types often living in dire circumstances. His breakout role stateside was as vampire Roman Godfrey on Netflix’s “Hemlock Grove” before going on to play a character in the third installment of the post-apocalyptic “Divergent” series and then a mysterious inmate who’s been theorized to be the actual devil in another Stephen King-inspired screen project, “Castle Rock.” It’s not exactly light fare, and diving into those psyches unnecessarily could become detrimental.

“I like living by [the motto] ‘It is what it is’; you adapt and you’re spontaneous and you change things,” Skarsgård says when asked if he adheres to any specific technique to capture the characters he plays. “My life is not very structured or organized to begin with, and that obviously bleeds into the work that I do.”

It’s the spontaneity of his choices onscreen, too, that makes the 29-year-old so fun to watch, particularly as Pennywise. Two of his contributions to the final incarnation of Pennywise’s appearance include the cartoonishly pointed bottom lip—a thing Skarsgård can really do with his mouth, something he says he’s never seen anyone other than his family members do—and Pennywise’s walleyed stare, in which one of his pupils wanders off to the side while the other stays firmly focused on you.

Physically, the role is demanding, requiring him to yell, shake, and contort his face in ways that leave him exhausted; that’s not to mention the hours spent sitting in hair and makeup. “You have glue all over your face; there’s paint. Your hair is up in [a skullcap]—it’s itching. There’s, like, a foam head on top of it.” To put it mildly, “It” and its sequel are unlike any of Skarsgård’s other acting experiences. For myriad reasons, it lacked the give and take of more traditional projects. He had to be at “150 percent intensity” whenever the camera was on him. “A lot of the stuff I do sometimes is literally like”—he makes a gurgling sound like a chainsaw underwater. “It’s like one big jump scare, charging the camera screaming and shaking my head violently. There’s never a scene where you’re just chilling.”

The final product is an amalgamation of script work, Skarsgård’s own imagination, and King’s classic novel, which he leaned on more than usual since the script, told from the perspective of the film’s child leads, necessarily left out Pennywise’s perspective. He also used YouTube to watch videos of mimes, hyenas, baboons, and monkeys, using elements from each to piece together the way Pennywise moves through space.

With all the information he’s gathered from his prep process at his fingertips, the on-set experience becomes about playing to the truth of the scene and the “essence of what the character is at that point.”

“You completely intellectualize the character,” he explains about the early stages of figuring out the person he’s playing. “Who is this guy psychologically? Why is he acting this way? What is his relationship with the world and the people closest to him? The way I do it is objectively going out and studying him separately from me. Observing him, judging him, understanding him, and sympathizing with him.”

He admits to developing a fondness for Pennywise, who refused to vacate his mental premises even after the film wrapped. “You go with a character and you think about that character obsessively for a very long time, and then overnight there’s nothing left to think about,” he says. The uncoupling manifested itself in his dreams, where he sometimes was Pennywise and sometimes was talking to Pennywise, upset that he was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. “And then I wake up and I’m like, that was kind of sweet.” It’s the kind of affection only an actor who has lovingly pieced together a character over four years can have for something so objectively sinister.

But no matter the role—or its wickedness—we relish the moment Skarsgård stands up to show us what he’s found today.

[rosekmorgan]

I am in a medical trial for a supplement to make people more perceptive. Unfortunately, it works.

[check tags for cws]

“Question thirteen,” I was mid-beer-sip when the announcer, a cheerful man who I knew only by the name of “Trivia Guy”, read out the next question. “In a human body, bacterial cells outnumber actual human cells by a ratio of three to one, ten to one, or six to one?”

“It’s ten to one,” Jack said. He sounded pretty confident about it, too.

“That’s a common misconception,” Lis responded, her eyes shining with the unmistakable joy of someone who is about to tell someone else they’re wrong. “It’s actually a lot closer to three to one. I was reading this article about gut microbiomes and fecal transplants the other day, and --”

“Jesus,” I looked at the plate of nachos shared between the four of us. The pile of chili on top didn’t look as appealing as it had moments before. “Can we not?”

She grabbed a chip herself, then, in classic Lis fashion, continued to talk through her full mouth.

“Alright, fine, but I’m telling you, it’s three to one.”

Jack grunted, writing something down on the answer sheet. Seeing as Lis was a bio major and Jack was in CompSci with me, I hoped he took her answer.

“Question fourteen,” Trivia Guy pulled no punches. “According to a poll from Cosmopolitan magazine, the worst vacation fashion trend was speedos, socks and sandals, or Hawaiian shirts?”

“Socks and sandals.” Sadie spoke up first. She didn’t even wait for anyone else to comment before she snatched the answer sheet from Jack and began to write it down.

“Oh, definitely,” I agreed, a few moments too late for it to matter. But hey -- Sadie was the reason our trivia team was ever anything besides dead last (not to mention the only one of the four of us who’d ever cracked open a copy of Cosmo). I took another sip of the beer and cringed slightly. Corona is not what I’d normally go for, but that night, the price point meant a lot more to me than the quality.

The night continued on in a haze of shitty beer and nachos that went cold far too fast. We didn’t place this week, but we were all slightly buzzed, so we got over it. As Trivia Guy made his final remarks, the waitress came and gave us our bills. My total for the night was $40, and that was before adding a tip. I could cover it, but just barely. Sadie watched me as I pulled out the cash and put it down on the table, completely emptying my wallet of change.

I stood up. My head spun for a moment, but it wasn’t too bad.

“I think I’m gonna have to skip next week.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to announce it to everyone. Probably the vodka that had come before the Corona. I regretted it the moment I said it -- way to look like a broke loser in front of everyone. Great one, Brent.

We shuffled out of the bar in a sea of other beer-sticky, stumbling students. Lucky for us, it wasn’t a long walk; All four of us lived on campus. There were probably cheaper places to get drunk on a Thursday, but there weren’t more conveniently located ones, and certainly none with trivia.

We said goodbye to Jack first, then Lis. I had a vague awareness of the May air being frigid, but it didn’t register with me on a physical level. The alcohol had taken off the edge of a Canadian spring that still thinks it’s winter. A coat would have been a more responsible way to handle it, but hey. Whatever works.

“You’re broke.” The words weren’t stated, but slurred. I watched Sadie as she swayed side to side. In the bar, it hadn’t been clear just how drunk she was. A delayed reaction, she clasped her hands over her mouth, then said something that was probably “I’m sorry!” into the palms of her hands. I just laughed.

“Yeah, I’m broke. What gave it away? The fact that I have no money?” Not my cleverest comeback. Not technically true, either -- I didn’t have money to throw around, but it’s not like I’d starve. I still had my meal plan and two parents who tolerated me, so I wasn’t exactly in dire straits.

“I’ve got an idea.” She grabbed my arm, her nails poking me through my hoodie, and I recoiled. Sharper than they looked. “No, really!”

“Alright, what is it then?” I half expected her to try and sell me on the essential oil bullshit I knew her sister was into, but then again, Sadie was always the brighter of the two.

“Dr. Davidson asked us to try and get him some subjects for some experiment he’s running.” She grinned. I had no idea who he was -- being in CompSci myself, I wasn’t familiar with any of the professors over in the psych department. I thought she’d said the name before, but I was never good with names -- especially the names of people I had no reason to care about.

“Okay, and?” I’d gone into experiments at Sadie’s behest before and never really gained that much from the experience. In one of them I got two marshmallows, which I appreciated. Most of them just involved watching videos of shapes dancing about on a screen and then writing a story about whether you thought the triangle and the square were friends or enemies. Neither of those were going to help me buy another night of beers.

“He’s paying participants $100 for being a part of it.” I froze in my tracks. $100 wasn’t life-changing - not for me, anyway - but it was more than enough to solve the problem of not having the spare cash to get wasted. “I wanted to do it myself, but he says we’re not allowed to if we’re in his class. He doesn’t want to ‘inadvertently prime’ us or anything.”

“Hell yeah,” I nodded, though Sadie hadn’t asked a question. “Yeah, I’ll do it. That sounds great. Do you think there’ll be any marshmallows?”

Before long, we were at our dorm complex. I helped Sadie to her room, and in return she promised me that she’d text me the details in the morning.

I made my way back to my own dorm. I unlocked the door and sighed. I hated the room. It was small -- scarcely room for a single nightstand between Tareq’s bed and my own. He was asleep already, a flat cardboard box that smelled of pepperoni flipped open on the nightstand. He was a good enough guy, but God, the number of pizza boxes that room had seen must rival all of Italy.

I was asleep by the time my head hit the pillow. I awoke what felt like five minutes later to the blaring of my alarm. The morning began like any other -- with me blindly grasping for my phone. Alarm turned off, I noticed a text from Sadie. She’d kept her word (as she always did) and sent me the details on where and when I could find Dr. Davidson.

Lucky for me, I had no classes that Friday. I’d done my damndest to cram everything else into the other four days of the work week to extend my weekend. When I finally rolled out of bed around 11:30, there were only two things on my mind: breakfast and Davidson.

After pancakes and coffee -- thank God for meal plans -- I took another look at the text. Davidson’s office was, to my surprise, in the science complex. Most of Sadie’s classes were in the McPherson building - an ancient brick monolith crawling with ivy - and that was where all the studies I’d been a part of before had taken place. I’d assumed that’s where I’d find Davidson, but apparently not.

Davidson’s office hours weren’t until three, so I headed back to my room to get showered. I didn’t know exactly what kind of test subject he was hoping for, but I figured being halfway presentable would probably be a good start. I nearly tripped over Tareq’s iPad in the process. He had a habit of leaving it unlocked on the bathroom floor, for reasons I tried not to learn.

Stone-cold sober, I made the decision to wear an actual jacket as I headed off to the science complex. The building had a name other than “science complex”, but I could never remember it since no one called it that. It was the newest building on campus, one of those angular glass monstrosities that makes any fan of classical architecture cry and bemoan the decline of society. I liked it well enough, but I was in the minority.

I got lost finding my way to Davidson’s office -- it was in the basement, and none of the elevators seemed to go down there. It was only after talking to a group of tense zoology students that I managed to get conclusive directions.

As far as basements went, the science complex’s was pretty damn classy. Since they couldn’t exactly carry on the whole glass-walls theme underground, they’d gone with a smooth black faux-marble. Comparing it to the basement where one of my small-group sessions took place -- where the black on the walls was almost certainly mold -- I felt a surge of jealousy.

Davidson’s office was not as classy as the surrounding corridors. Papers lay scattered around an oak desk clearly much older than the building itself, a man even older still seated behind it. His hair was dark, but streaked with grey that he made no attempt to cover, and his face was softly wrinkled. Looking at him, I had no idea how old the man was, but presumably old enough that he should have done a better job cleaning the place. I knocked on the open door and he looked up. His brows knit together and he squinted, the face of someone trying to figure out if they’re supposed to know you or not.

“Dr. Davidson?” I asked. His name had been on the door, but it didn’t hurt to confirm. He tilted his head like an inquisitive puppy, and I winced as his neck cracked. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes?” His voice caught me off guard - it was smoother than I would have assumed from his appearance. He waited patiently, big brown eyes staring expectantly in my direction.

“I’m here about the, uh, study.” It would have helped had I known what he was researching, but Davidson beamed up at me. Clearly he knew what I was talking about, even if I didn’t.

“You’re interested in participating?”

“Yeah. A friend of mine, Sadie, she’s in one of your classes,” I watched him process the name, trying to figure out who Sadie might be. “She said you were doing a study with compensation.” I winced after saying it -- way to look desperate.

“Yes,” He smiled, shaking his head, bemused. “A hundred as soon as you’re approved, and a hundred at the conclusion.” My eyes bulged. Sadie had said there was $100 compensation total -- I guess she’d finally been mistaken about something. All the better for me.

Davidson rifled through the papers on his desk, licking his thumb to help him separate a set of sheets. “We’ll need to make sure you’re fit first, of course.” He held two pages out, and I finally left his doorway to approach the desk. “Both of these can be done at the clinic on Stonemason Ave.”

I frowned as I took the papers. This I wasn’t expecting. One was a letter requesting an EKG, and the second a blood test. “You’ll need to put your info at the top of those there, but once you’ve filled them out you can get tested. They fax the results straight to me, same day.”

For a moment, I wondered what kind of psychology experiment needed an EKG and blood test, but the doctor continued. “Once I’ve got the documents, you come back and we can fill out your consent form. And,” he paused, grinning, “get you the first payment.”

Despite my moment of apprehension, I was grinning back at him. I took one more look at the papers, and gave him a nod. “Awesome.”

Davidson let me know my deadline for the testing, but he didn’t need to -- the second I was out of the science complex, I was on my way to the clinic. When both tests were through, it was dinner time. My parents were coming to visit on Saturday and Davidson had no office hours Sunday, so I resolved to visit him right at three on Monday.

The weekend flew by. It always did when my parents came. It was their mission to cram as much family time as possible into every visit. They lived just an hour away from the campus, but I was an only child. I didn’t really know what it was like for them, but I must have made the house feel different for me to not be around. Dad was always saying how empty it felt, while my mom told me how happy she was that I was pursuing my passion. Mixed messages, maybe, but think they just missed me. I missed them too. We always were close.

I woke up at 7:45am on Monday. I was one of the few who liked morning classes; I thought it was more practical to get class done early in the day so I had the afternoon to do whatever I wanted. This meant by the time three rolled around, I was finished class for the day and ready to pay Davidson another visit.

His office was tidier than it had been the last time. Papers were still scattered around the room, but they had coalesced into semi-defined piles. He seemed excited to see me.

“Wonderful news!” was how he began the conversation. The blood test and EKG had come through normal, which meant that it was time for me to sign my consent form -- and receive my first payment.

I skimmed the document. I didn’t understand a lot of it, but I also didn’t care. Much to my surprise, this wasn’t going to be another marshmallow or shape storytelling study. This was a full-on medical trial. Or, well...something like that. I was fuzzy on the details. Myself, and the other subjects, were going to be given some sort of supplements. I wasn’t on any medications they could interfere with, and I didn’t have any heart conditions that they could aggravate. Animal trials had indicated that, in mice, the supplements boosted reaction times and functioning in tests of reasoning. The most notable finding was that the rodents were more “generally perceptive”, whatever that meant.

The last sheet of the document included a list of seven other names. Below that were two lines for me to sign - one confirming that I consented to take part in the study, and the other confirming I did not know any of the seven listed people. I scrawled Brent Haywood twice*,* wrote my phone number and email below, and a few minutes later I was walking out of the room with $100 cash. I was giddy. $100 wasn’t much, but at least I wasn’t going to miss trivia after all.

I didn’t see Davidson again until Thursday. He’d emailed asking me to meet him and the other participants in the science complex. This time we didn’t meet in the basement, but in a small aboveground lab. I thought I was prompt, getting there right at three -- but when I walked in, there were already nine people present.

Davidson stood at the front of the room, a tray of bottles behind him. He flipped through some papers, whispering to the woman standing next to him. The other seven, clearly students, were in chairs organized into a rough semi-circle. One seat remained right on the end, next to a girl who looked to be a year or two my senior. Her brown eyes were warm and inviting, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested. She smiled as I sat down. I opened my mouth to greet her, but Davidson cleared his throat to gather our attention, cutting off any attempts at flirting.

“Hello!” He smiled and waved, and I couldn’t help but smile back. In the light of the lab, not crammed behind a desk, he looked a bit better off. He had an energy about him, that kind that radiates from anyone who has a genuine passion for what they do.

“You all know me, but I’d like to introduce you to Ms. Gill. She’s a fantastic woman and she’ll be assisting me throughout the duration of this study. Ms. Gill and I have worked together for the last few years, and she has even taken the lead on some of our most recent animal studies.” Davidson beamed like a proud parent. The faintest pink blush graced her cheeks as she smiled.

“Nice to meet all of you. I’ve got all of your consent forms here, but I would like to ask one more time before we begin: do any of you know each other?”

I looked down the line of chairs. Counting me, there were four men and four women. It struck me as an awfully small group, but this wasn’t my field. I didn’t know any of them. One man looked familiar -- I’d definitely seen him before. I was about 90% sure he worked at the Subway on campus. That hardly counted as knowing him, though. I looked back to Gill and shook my head. There were some murmurs of no from my cohorts.

“Excellent. Now, it is absolutely critical to the integrity of this study that at no point do you attempt to contact any of these fine folks outside of the context of the study. As we want to measure your individual responses to the supplement, we don’t want to muddy the waters by having you discuss your experiences with each other outside of the lab.”

I shot the girl next to me an exaggerated frown. She stifled a laugh, and turned her eyes back to Gill.

Gill went on to explain the process. She would be giving us each a bottle of the supplement. We were to take one pill each morning at eight o’clock. Failures to take it on time would need to be reported immediately. Every weekday, we’d report back to the lab at an assigned time and complete some basic reasoning tasks to assess any impact the supplement had on our abilities over time. For me, that meant I’d need to haul my ass out to the science complex at seven o’clock in the evening for the foreseeable future. I scowled - that was going to be annoying. The good news was that we had no need to show up on weekends.

The next morning, I woke up at 7:45 with a mild hangover. Trivia had been the night before. I’d thanked Sadie again for the lead, and she’d admitted she was surprised about the fact that there were only eight people there.

“I’d expected more,” she told me, sipping on her cider. “Assuming half of you are actually taking the supplement, the rest a placebo, that’s only four people in each group!”

“Who cares?” I asked, holding up my own. No discounted Corona this week. “Cheers to Davidson!”

It didn’t take long to make my hair look tolerable and pull on some clothes. A second alarm went off at eight, reminding me that it was time for me to take my first dose of the supplement. Tareq, not a morning person, growled into his pillow.

I didn’t give the pill itself much thought - it looked like a multivitamin, and it tasted like something that’d fallen to the back of an oven and continued to burn there for over a year before someone realized and pulled it out. I nearly gagged, but it was nothing half a bottle of Sprite couldn’t help with.

Nothing felt that out of the ordinary throughout the day, but I wasn’t really sure what I’d expected. It sure as hell wasn’t the pill from Limitless. The only difference I really noticed in my own behaviour was that I was overanalyzing everything I did and trying to figure out if it was the pill’s fault. Was I slightly jumpier today? Was I thinking about the pill too much because of the pill?

No. None of that. Obviously.

At six, I grabbed a quick dinner with Lis, Jack and Sadie. When I was done, I headed off to the lab and arrived just before seven. Subway guy was leaving as I went in. We gave each other a nod of recognition as we crossed paths.

Inside the lab, Gill and Davidson were seated at one of the black lab countertops. In front of them were some sheets of paper and some red and white tiles. I recognized them from when I was younger. In grade four I’d had to do some sort of test with those tiles where they showed me a picture of a completed pattern and I had to assemble it myself. I hadn’t expected to see them again at twenty-two.

Davidson seemed happy to see me, and gestured for me to come sit. The next twenty minutes were spent on a variety of tasks - not just reasoning, but memory as well. In one of them, they’d read me a series of numbers, and then I’d have to recite them backwards. I didn’t do particularly well on that task. I was more confident with the tiles, at least. Time flew by.

Gill was the one who actually administered the tests, while Davidson took notes, grinning the whole time. I wondered what he was so excited about; It couldn’t have been my test results. Finally, they took my blood pressure and sent me on my way.

As I went to leave, the brown-eyed girl from the first day was coming in. She smiled at me, and before I knew it I was smiling back. I just barely managed to choke back a hi before we’d walked past each other and I was back out in the hallway, alone.

In the empty hallway my heart was racing, and I couldn’t tell you why. I felt sweat instantly start to build on the back of my neck. I’d almost said hi to her when I wasn’t meant to. Davidson wouldn’t have been happy -- was that it? Or was it the simple fact that she was hot and I wanted to talk to her? Whatever it was, it felt stronger than it should have -- but -- goddammit, I was just overthinking things again.

Days passed, following the same pattern -- I’d get up, I’d take the pill at eight, and I’d spend the rest of the day overanalyzing everything I did. Each day it worsened, because I had another twenty-four hours of evidence that I was overthinking. My heart was getting one hell of a workout, though Davidson and Gill never commented when my blood pressure was taken.

A feedback loop sparked to life deep inside my chest. I’d hear my heart hammering away and I would feel anxiety make my hairs stand on end -- then I would think about what I was experiencing and the panic would grow deeper. I couldn’t talk myself down from it. Every time I tried, my body would fight against me, digging in its heels, turning up my nerves.

By Monday, I was on edge in a way I'd never experienced. In the past, I hadn’t been a leg-shake. Now, crammed into my lecture theatre seat, laptop balanced on the tiny desk, my right leg was positively vibrating. I nearly leapt out of my seat when Jack asked me if I could double-check a piece of code he had written.

“Jesus, dude,” He looked me up and down. “Are you alright?”

I nodded, but speech hadn’t come back to me just yet. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply and rhythmically in an effort to calm myself down. After a few moments passed, I was able to speak. “Yeah, it’s just...the study I’m doing. I think it’s getting to me, man.”

Jack shook his head, incredulous. “Yeah, no shit.” He turned, and as he did his arm clipped the edge of his laptop.

Something in my chest exploded, and my vision completely greyed out. When it came back, my hand had Jack’s laptop in a death-grip. It was still sitting on the desk, but it was clear it had nearly fallen. Jack, mouth slightly ajar, stared at me.

I swallowed hard, gently nudging the laptop into a more secure position on the table. As I pulled my hand back, it was quivering.

“What the fuck, Brent?”

A few moments passed, the instructor droning on in the distance.

“It was going to fall,” I finally answered, my voice weak. My heart was still throbbing, and the beginnings of nausea tickled at my stomach. It was too much. I closed my laptop, slipped it into my bag, and walked out.

The instructor paused to stare as I walked to the doors. I managed to choke out the word “sick” before I was out of the room. In the corridor, I broke into a run. I needed to go home.

I needed to lie down.

I spent the bulk of the day as a heap in my dorm room. I wasn’t an anxious person by nature, so it had to be the supplement’s doing. What a fucking shame. I feel like I’m going to die but I don’t feel any smarter.

Thankfully, I had my laptop and Netflix. I stuck to watching comedies for the rest of the day. Eventually my heart rate slowed to the point where it wasn’t dominating my every thought. By the time seven rolled around, I was in a state you might almost mistake for normal. A benefit, since I needed to haul my ass down to Davidson and Gill.

I didn’t see Subway guy leaving the lab this time. I wondered if he’d left early -- or maybe last time he’d left late. Oh well.

It was much the same as Friday -- little puzzling questions, tests of memory, rearranging tiles. If anything, I thought I did worse than I had on the first day. As it continued, anxiety began to rise in me again, building in my chest, setting my nerve endings on fire. I managed to keep it together until the very end.

As I finished up the last of the tile activities, my thoughts were consumed by the fact that there was someone behind me turn around now they’re behind you --

I nearly snapped my neck spinning around to look behind me. There was no one there -- at first. A second later later, the brown-eyed girl walked through the open door. Our eyes instantly met, and for the first time I saw her frown. It was probably off putting to walk into a room and find someone staring directly at you. I turned, gingerly rubbing my neck, back towards the researchers.

Neither was facing me. Instead, they were looking at each other. Davidson’s grin was wider than ever, and a smile was playing at Gill’s lips. Whatever that shared look said, I was deaf to it. Davidson turned, and offered me words that gave little clarity in the moment.

“Brent, you’re becoming an awfully perceptive person.”

Before I could respond, Gill stood up and gestured for me to leave. As I walked past the girl, she refused to look at me.

That evening, I received an email from Davidson. There was going to be a slight change to our regimen -- I was now to come in at 7:10pm. The message said that a greater effort should be taken to “space out” the subjects.

I was feeling pretty spaced out myself. By the time I was back in my dorm, all I could think about was going to sleep. But it did not come easily. No matter how long I lay in the bed, tossing and turning, I never felt at ease. Eventually, with the help of a meditation app my mother had emailed me months ago but I’d never bothered trying, I calmed myself to a point of stillness. That was when things got worse.

I am not sure if you have ever experienced sleep paralysis, but if not, consider yourself blessed. Instead of drifting to sleep, I felt a tingling sensation crawl across my limbs. I went to shake them out, and found I was frozen in place. I couldn’t see a damn thing -- my eyes may as well have been glued shut. There were no dreams, no hallucinations to break up the blackness. As I lay still as a corpse, the tingling gave way to numbness. Before long the only sensation I could experience was one of impending doom. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t feel.Unable to form rational thoughts in this dark void, I was absolutely certain I was going to die.

I don’t know how long it was I lay there in that worse-than-nightmare state, but eventually it ended. I woke up groggy, no memory of any dreams.

I don’t know why I kept taking the supplements. Maybe it was morbid curiosity. Perhaps it was the manifestation of some deep-seated self-loathing I’d never bothered to unearth, some sort of pill-popping l'appel du vide. It doesn’t matter why, it just matters that I did. I skipped classes over the next few days, only leaving to get food and to visit Davidson and Gill for the next round of my testing. The researchers would watch my actions and smile at me, but I have no idea if I improved. Davidson seemed thrilled, but he wouldn’t tell me why.

“What’s your problem?” Tareq had asked me on Thursday. I shrugged, my duvet pulled tight around my body. I was acutely aware of the dark shadows that hung below eyes -- sleep was getting harder. Every night, the pins and needles, the numbness, the sensation that Death Himself was in the room with me seemed to take up a greater percentage of my sleep cycle. I was anything but well rested.

My phone vibrated on the bed next to me, and I was angry. I shouted a string of expletives at the phone for daring to disturb me, at whoever was on the other end of it for having the gall to try and contact me, before tossing the damn thing to my bedroom floor.

“You’ve fucking lost it, dude.”

My skin prickled as he picked up a slice of pizza from the newest box he’d added to his hoard. I watched as he lifted the greasy, floppy triangle up to his mouth. When I realized he was going to drop it, I buried my head in my blanket. I didn’t want to watch. I didn’t want to be right. I didn’t want to be perceptive.

Through the blanket, I heard a muffled “fuck”. I screamed into the fabric.

“Fuck’s sake Brent, it’s just pizza.”

I didn’t respond. My hands shook, and I held the blanket tighter. I gripped it so intensely I feared my nails might tear through the fabric.

“Hey, it’s almost seven. Shouldn’t you be leaving?” Tareq spoke, clearly not out of a genuine interest for what I was supposed to be doing but because he had found a great way to get rid of me. Motives aside, he was right. I leapt off the bed, dropping the blanket on the floor as I went to pick up my phone from where it had landed.

Moving helped, terrifying though it was. Walking across the campus managed to lessen the feelings, or at the very least, distract me from them.

I broke down crying during the testing. Davidson lacked his usual grin, replacing it with a look of concern which, as far as I could tell, was genuine. He stopped the last test early. In what was clearly a breach of some sort of ethics code, he reached out to give me a pat on the arm.

I recoiled before his fingers could touch me, the hairs on my arm standing on end like I’d stepped out into a hailstorm without so much as a jacket. I stared at him, rubbing my face with my other arm to try and get rid of the tears. Finally, he spoke.

“I don’t understand.” He said it quietly. At first I thought he was talking to me, but he wasn’t facing my direction. He was looking down at the sheet where he’d been taking notes. Then he said it again, more forcefully. “I don’t understand.” He turned to Gill. She shrugged.

“What don’t you understand?” I asked. There was a tickle on my arm where Davidson had nearly touched me. Just a faint sensation, like a tiny spider had found its way onto my skin when I wasn’t looking. I tried to brush it off, but it wouldn’t go.

He didn’t respond. He spoke again, but to Gill rather than me.

“We need to stop this.”

“What don’t you understand?” I meant to just ask, but somehow I was shouting. Somehow I was standing, scratching my arm as I shouted.

“You were our most promising candidate, Brent.” His voice was quiet, and he refused to make eye contact. “Your scores have gone up every day, by a significant margin. You’ve become so much more perceptive, but -- “

There it was again. That word -- perceptive. I supposed it was accurate, too. I noticed people, sounds, things about to happen. I paid more attention to the world than I ever had before. I obsessed over it, whether I wanted to or not.

“But?”

“Maybe...too perceptive?” Gill whispered. As she looked up at me, I could see pity in her eyes.

She was right. As I stood in front of the two, I felt everything. I felt the fabric of my hoodie rubbing up against my chest, and the pressure of my jeans tight around my legs. I felt the crawling sensation growing across my skin, moving from one arm up to my neck, to my face.

For the final time, I ran from the lab back to my dorm room. Outside, the gentle wind hit my face, stabbing into my skin like icicles. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I screamed as it buzzed up against my leg. I pulled it out, glancing at the message from Sadie -- “you coming to trivia?” -- and I threw it as hard as I could against the pavement. I did not stop to look and see if it cracked. I left it behind and kept running.

Back in my dorm room, the first thing I did was tear the sweater off. It was too much to bear. The rubbing of fabric against my body was nauseating, and the sensation of unseen spiders creeping across my skin had reached an apex. No matter how much I scratched, I couldn’t stop it. In my absence Tareq had left, so I had free reign of the dorm. I headed for the bathroom, hoping to scrub away whatever plagued me.

It worked, to some degree. The itching lessened, but did not dissipate entirely. When I stepped out of the shower, I took a look at the mirror. I could see nothing there but my own face, the same as it had always been. There were no bugs visibly crawling across my skin, but I could feel them. Less than before, but still undeniably present.

I towelled off, then sat on my bed attempting to comprehend what was happening. This wasn’t imagination -- not according to Davidson, anyway. This was not simply hallucination brought on by lack of sleep. No, he’d said that I had become more perceptive. So what the Hell was I perceiving? As I sat scratching my arms, the explanation came to me.

When people say “the answer was inside you all along”, I don’t think this is what they mean.

It started with a tickle in my throat, the kind that lets you know you’ve got the beginnings of a cold. I coughed, an attempt to make the sensation go away, but it failed. If anything, it made my throat itchier. I stood to grab a glass of water, and my legs shook beneath me. Something was deeply wrong. The itching, the crawling, had sunk far deeper down into my throat than any cold ever reaches.

Once the awareness was there, I could not return to ignorance: There were things moving within me, and I would never be rid of them. Deep inside of me, there were billions of things squirming and twitching and pressing up against my internal organs, and I could feel every one of them. Now that I had become perceptive enough to feel them, there was simply no way to stop.

I tried to scream. I felt the movement of my throat and stopped because it was agonizing. I tried to stand, but the billions of living things inside of me crawled and shuddered as I moved. Innumerable flagella smacked against the walls of my intestines as I shifted, miniature whips cutting into me. I wanted to destroy each and every one of these legions of invaders who I had never asked for but who I would die without. I wanted to lacerate my abdomen, pry myself open and scrape them all out until only I remained, just me.

I tried to stand, but I hated it. I despised them writhing and scratching inside of me. Unable to take the sensation, I fell to my knees. The carpet burned like I had fallen into a lit campfire. Everything was too much and there was no escape because it was on me and within me. I started to sob and the tears seared my flesh like acid. I don’t know how long I was there on hands and knees, gasping as everything within me twitched and moved and boiled.

There was nothing I could do to quell the sensations, crashed there in the middle of my dorm room, but I knew how to make it stop once and for all. And so I began my mission of dragging myself to the bathroom. I pulled myself there on my hands, and my knees dragged. They turned red and raw and they felt like they had been shredded to the bone. The things in my guts wriggled and whipped and the things on my skin itched and crawled.

It was an agonizingly slow process. Eventually, my desperate, reaching palms were met with the cold tile of the bathroom floor. It was like passing from a volcano to a glacier, but I forced myself onward. My hand grasped for the latch on the cabinet under the sink.

I sit here with a bottle of drain cleaner in one hand, the other pressed to the floor as I try to hold myself up. Every second that passes, I still feel them, on me and in me. I’m not an idiot, you know, but there’s only one way out of this. The good news is that I’m going to take every one of those little fuckers down with me.

There’s one thing, though, that I can’t help thinking about as I sit here, trying to overcome the sensations long enough to do what needs to be done.

For my family’s sake, I hope I wasn’t in the control group.

[monotonemanday]

Hey hey! #38 with Yoosung, fluffy or goofy? Thank yoooou~! ^^

Ayeo! Sorry it took light years, but here’s some floofs with the Yoos! 

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Yoosung x MC

~

It was year 2 of University.

Year one, you quickly learned that student dorms weren’t for you.

Separate student housing? Some tiny apartments?

Sure. Anything was better than getting stuck with another insufferable roommate.

You had lived in your shabby apartment for two weeks now, but you were slowly making it a pretty happenin’ pad.

It was very much your aesthetic. So you didn’t care if paint was coming off the door.

You normally caught sight of your neighbors daily.

Passing them on the stairwell. Entering your apartments at the same time. Helping each other when you noticed toppling groceries or open backpacks.

You were cordial with all of your neighbors and they all found you quite pleasant, and you found you enjoyed these little interactions.

There was, however, a neighbor you hadn’t yet interacted with. At least not directly.

A blonde boy.

A cute blonde boy.

A cute awkward blonde boy.

A cute awkward handsome blonde boy

A, well, yeah. A boy.

You saw him. Often but he always seemed preoccupied. In a hurry? No more like…scattered.

Sharing a wall you heard your fair share of his daily affairs.

It seemed like a lot of yelling…and…whining? But both were…endearing. Cute.

The yelling was usually related to what you can only assume was online gaming. Being upset about not finding specific items on a raid or losing to a different guild.

More often than not you heard “AAAHH WHO IS THIS NUMBER ONE HACKER GOD?!” This was normally followed by a phone call from a friend he referred to as “Seven”

It happened that way so often you made the connection yourself. His friend Seven must be a giant troll. But you thought it was adorable your neighbor couldn’t piece it together.

You spent a lot of time, let’s say “overhearing” your neighbor. Because you were definitely not eavesdropping.

The whining, the yelling. You heard how he talked to his friends. Eventually, he answered the phone with a super optimistic “Yoosung here!’ and you learned his name.

He was constantly telling two people named Jaehee and Jumin that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to work at some big company. Or that they didn’t need to worry about him being responsible. That he wasn’t a baby.

Telling someone else named Zen that he didn’t want to run 3 miles every morning and go through an 18 step beauty regiment in the morning just to get a girlfriend.

And his conversations with Seven…well. You just tried to push those out of your mind.

But in all honestly, most of his struggles, you related to.

You felt like you were learning everything about him without actually interacting with him.

What you didn’t know, was that the lack of interaction was purposeful.

The reason he always seemed to fly into his apartment when you arrived at the same time.

Why he pretended to answer his phone and basically sprint if he saw you on the stairwell.

You were cute. So cute. Like, make his knee’s weak, palms sweaty, omelette on his sweater already, cute.

He couldn’t believe someone as angelic seeming as you had moved into the apartment next to his.

And what’s more, he listened to you too.

Listened to you play vinyls and hum along.

Cackle at youtube videos.

Make cute grunting, exasperated noises while playing console games.

He could only hear this through the thin wall connecting your apartments but anytime he envisioned it, his face was hot and flushed.

Neither of you had the courage to actually approach each other so awkward encounters for an eternity it was!

Well, until one fateful day.

You were getting ready for the day when you decided enough was enough. You psyched yourself up in the mirror.

"You are a treasure! You are cute as hell! So what if you are very awkward and can be pretty damn socially inept. That blonde beauty next door is yours for the taking, so woman up!”

You were still nervous but your self-pep talk helped…sort of?

Grabbing your backpack you started to turn the knob on your apartment door when you heard Yoosung’s voice.

“Look Zen, I will! I’ll talk to her. It’s just, what if she doesn’t like me? Or doesn’t think I am very manly? Or she laughs at me! Then I have to live with that embarrassment. We’re neighbors!”

Your lips curled upward like you belonged in a psych ward. Didn’t even know you were capable of such a wide and toothy smile.

Practically skipping downstairs you made your way outside to start your day.

Plans for the day, however, were quickly detoured.

You heard whimpering in some of the thorny and scary looking shrubbery you passed on your usual walk.

Deciding to follow the noise, trembling and terrified you found a small puppy. A boxer. No tags, no collar. Young. Like just got separated from the rest of the litter young. And you would definitely be keeping it.

The thorns and pricks tearing up your arm, mangling your clothes. You braved it all to rescue the pup. Even though your heroic efforts were successful you had to make sure the poor thing was actually in decent shape.

But empty pockets were a big problem. A college student living on their own did exactly walk around with a bag lined with foxy money.

Then an idea hit you like a ton of bricks.

Eavesdropping, errr, I mean, overhearing, paid off! Yoosung!

Studying to be a Vet. Currently interning as a vet tech.

Awkward and excited footing carried you back to your apartment building where instead of leisurely unlocking your apartment door, you were banging on the door of a certain blonde boy.

Minding his own business you were sure. Just being a blonde boy…doing what blonde boys do?

Okay, you really needed to socialize more.

Yoosung came to the door. Big purple eyes. Royal Gems. They stared at you in a flustered state of shock and awe.

“Y-yes?” He managed to spit out.

“Uhm, Yes hi, I well, there’s no reason for me to know this but you are studying to be a Veterinarian right? I found this poor pup, struggling and crying. I was wondering if you could take a look at him?”

This was his chance. Alright. Superman Yoosung. He took the small boxer from your arms and began to examine him.

You watched how gentle he was. He had this silent determination and you were impressed.

If ever there was time for your heart to murmur Doki Doki, this was it.

Yoosung finished his exam and gave the pup a small pat on the head.

“He is fine! Oh, it’s a he by the way. I think the poor little guy was just scared and in shock. Are you planning on keeping him?”

“You know, I am. I kind of adore him.”

Yoosung scratched the back of his neck nervously and gave you a bright smile. He went to open his mouth in hopes he could capture your attention longer by saying something suave.

That’s when he looked down at your arm and his expression changed drastically.

Something he hadn’t quite gotten over yet. Even though he would need to if he was going to help animals.

Blood made him squeamish.

You watched his eyes double in size. His shoulders tense up. And then finally his face turned a ghostly pale.

Instincts took over and you held out your arms.

About 8 minutes later, he came to.

His head felt like it was set on a cloud and he could feel something unbelievably soothing happening where his hair was.

You had his head elevated in your lap and you were gently brushing his bangs back off of his forehead.

“Did I…oh god did I pass out?!”

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” A slight smirk was on your lips, but it quickly turned into a gentle smile when you saw how pink his cheeks had gotten.

“I…your arm. It was bleeding. I’m not very good with blood. I guess we have to work on that.”

“We?” Now it was your turn to change shades. Your face grew warm and Yoosung developed a little smirk of his own.

“After that embarrassing display, you didn’t think we were just going to stay eavesdropping neighbors did you?” Who is this smooth man?

“You’re right! Hmmm, how about, the first thing we do, however,” You scooped the tiny boxer pup into your arms as Yoosung sat up from resting on your lap. “We name this little guy.”

~

[marypsue]

Imbalance, 10 / ?

Well, tumblr disappeared my original post, so let’s try this one again. 

Previous chapters can be found on AO3 under MaryPSue!

…

Liliana can't breathe.

She feels pretty stupid about it, actually. She knew there was probably some kind of evil wossname from beyond their plane of existence on the loose, using the circle she herself had broken to get in and eat the universe. She smelled smoke as soon as she set foot in Storm's apartment - hell, she'd taken the batteries out of his smoke detector when it had started going off - but saw no sign of candles or incense or anything that might be causing it. And now she's choking to death on evil smoke from somewhere beyond her plane of existence. Who could possibly have seen this coming.

Well, serves her right. She just hopes the others don't find out how she got killed, she'll die of embarrassment.

"It's all right," Storm says, somewhere in the whispering haze, his voice friendly and comforting, smooth and even and easy to listen to. For the first time, Liliana understands why other people waste their time watching Storm play video games. "You never really had a chance. None of us did."

"Don't...patronise me...you little asshole," Liliana coughs out. She knows as soon as she does that she's made her fatal mistake. Should have saved her breath instead of trying to be a smartass one last time. Her lungs burn, her throat is on fire, her vision blurry either from the tears stinging her eyes or the clouds of billowing, soft grey smoke tracing hypnotic swirls through the air. Her knees, then her shoulder, smart as she hits the ground, but even that's muted, muffled somehow by the smoke.

"It's useless trying," Storm says, sympathetically. "I understand now. No matter how hard you fight, no matter how many battles you win, there's always something bigger and worse waiting in the wings. You can fight and fight your whole life, and any ground you might gain will just be taken back after your death. It means nothing." His smile is bitter and aching. "All you're doing is wearing yourself out, trying to fight the inevitable. You can rest. It'll all be over soon."

Liliana sucks in one final breath, preparing to curse Storm out, but all she gets is a lungful of bitter smoke. Distantly, she thinks she hears Storm say something about endings or silence or some edgelord crap, but it's impossible to make out over the rising whispers. The edges of her vision are darkening, tunneling away into pinpricks of grey as the smoke steals her oxygen. Her last, fleeting thought is to hope somebody will figure out something happened to her and check up on Mavis and Mookie before they both get so hungry they try to eat each other.

And then there is light.

...

The Plane of Thought is home to all kinds of fantastic inventions. Its inhabitants have shaped metal and lightning around ideas that, on other planes, would have been accomplished with advanced spellwork.

And they've managed to come up with things that the other planes would never dream of. Stones of Farspeech are a complicated enchantment capable of incredible communication across continents. But no one, yet, has thought to connect them all together so that the same messages can reach everyone, all over the world, at nearly the speed of light. And no one, yet, has engineered a twenty-four-hour news cycle to make sure those messages get hammered, repeatedly, into every mind around the world. Over, and over, and over again.

"...new report indicates that, without dramatic policy and industry changes, global temperatures will rise enough to render the Earth uninhabitable within the next thirty years..."

"...despite widespread protest, the unpopular piece of legislation was passed on Friday. Legal challenges are expected..."

"... natural disasters compounded by extreme weather..."

"...allegations of sexual misconduct dating back to the early nineteen-seventies..."

"...will walk free..."

"...unable to afford the necessities of life..."

"...human rights violations..."

"...hate crime rising..."

"...unexpected cancellation of hit series Ray Donovan..."

"...corruption..."

"...collapse..."

"...devastation..."

"...despair..."

...

"Yes," the man at the door deadpans. "This is a bad time."

"Oh," Rowan says. "Sucks to suck, huh?"

"Yeah," the man at the door says, and shuts it in Rowan's face.

Rowan stares at the door. The door does not stare back at Rowan, because it's an inanimate object. That should mean it can't laugh at him, either, and yet, somehow, that's exactly what it seems to be doing.

From somewhere behind the impossibly smug door, Rowan can hear another voice - familiar, but in the way the voice of a teacher you had in elementary school is familiar - complain, "What'd you do that for?"

"He can come back with a warrant," the guy who opened the door snaps, and then the conversation veers into Spanish that's a little more advanced than what Rowan vaguely remembers from eighth grade.

Rowan stands on the doorstep for another moment or two, feeling the hot flush of embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck. The door does not reopen.

"Okay," Rowan mutters to himself, turning away from the door. He does not add, "Now what?". He's uncomfortably aware that no one else is going to answer that question for him. "Well, shit."

He starts down the walk, vaguely considering whether Liliana will be upset if he shows up early to pick her up. He doesn't like to admit it, but something about that Storm guy she hangs around with makes him indefinably but distinctly uncomfortable. Nothing personal, just...Rowan gets the strong impression that the guy's watched The Craft one time more than is strictly healthy.

Maybe Indigo's home. Maybe all that reading she - or he, or maybe they, Rowan hasn't checked in yet today - did on the D&D planar system will give him some clue. Rowan's still not sure if Gary Gygax was just plugged in to some fundamental truth of the universe, or if something about the Story and Song somehow made D&D-like shit real, but the end result is the same. Rowan's extensive knowledge of the Wiccan and neopagan traditions is less useful, practically, than some nerd with a 5e Monster Manual.

He has to admit, it does sting a little.

He's halfway down the walk when the door behind him swings open and a voice - familiar, but in the way that a celebrity's voice is familiar - calls, "Hey, do you really know anything about magic?"

Rowan turns. Joaquin Terrero waves one red-sparking hand at him.

“Sorry about that,” he says, looking at his own hand. “I can’t, uh, make it stop.”

"Well, shit," Rowan says.

...

"Hey, Griffin. Question."

"Shoot."

"Are we...are we going to get to...fight something, at some point?"

...

The alarm on Marial's implant cuts out abruptly as she and Dead Guy Gary reach the third floor.

Gary gives her a hopeful look, but Marial shakes her head. "It'll keep going off. Every four hours." She's exhausted, and her left arm is starting to ache, her fingers numb and tingly. She keeps jumping at little noises, thinking it's either Barry or one of Gary's zombies, and she's shaking so badly that it takes her three tries to turn the handle on the door out of the stairwell. This is really too much excitement for one lifetime.

...

"Yes, you are. In fact, you're going to get to fight something very, very soon."

...

Lup gives her scythe a sweeping stroke through the air. There's a noise like paper tearing, and a burst of stinging grey smoke billows out of the hole she's cut into the Astral Plane. It disperses quickly, but leaves a bitter smell lingering in its wake.

"Well, that's probably not a great sign," Lup mutters, under her breath, and then ducks through the opening in the air.

Taako turns to Magnus, but Magnus isn't there. Taako just sees the soles of his boots following Lup through the hole in the air. His voice drifts back through the planes. "Taako! Are you coming?"

"Let me just - let me ask you something. What part of 'Taako's good out here' keeps giving you all so much trouble?"

Magnus doesn't answer, just leans back through the hole in the air, grabs Taako by the collar, and yanks him through.

The hole in the air closes seamlessly behind them.

...

"Okay, but Griffin, how soon is 'very, very soon'?"

...

"What is all this commotion?" someone asks, pleasantly, as Marial slips out of the stairwell. "I thought we dealt with the fire alarm. I've lost two appointments already."

Marial mutters a curse under her breath. She’d really hoped the alarms would have cleared everybody out, but the professionally-(if garishly-)dressed woman with her dark hair in a sleek coil at the back of her neck leaning against the reception desk is standing between her and the cardiac clinic. And doesn't look like she's about to evacuate anytime soon.

On the other hand, Marial's a patient here, and she has a legitimate medical concern. And whoever this is doesn't seem like she wants to stop doing her job and leave until she can personally see flames licking out of the walls around her. Maybe Marial can use this to her advantage.

She takes a step forward, already working up a sheepish smile and a story about a mispulled fire alarm, and the woman standing by the reception desk turns to meet her eyes.

Marial stops in her tracks.

There's nothing immediately and obviously wrong with this picture, which makes it worse. Marial finds herself searching the woman's expression of detached, professional curiosity as it fades into concern, her carefully-applied makeup and enormous eighties Jem and the Holograms earrings, the hall around the reception desk, the friendly but confused smile from the guy behind it, for something to explain the sudden wave of sickening dread that crashes over her. Marial ends up studying the helpful sign listing directions to the different departments so that she doesn't have to meet the woman's kind grey eyes. She's never noticed before that psych and cardiac are on the same floor.

"Can I help you?" the woman asks, and the hall seems to bounce it back to Marial strangely, giving it a mocking, sarcastic tone.

"I - I don't think you can, actually," Marial stammers. She can feel the way Dead Guy Gary's gone tense beside her, prickling like a wall of static shock. She wants to ask him if he can tell what's got his back up, but something tells her that talking to thin air in front of this woman would be a bad idea. "I need the cardiac device clinic."

The woman smiles, broadly, stepping away from the reception desk and towards Marial. Marial takes another step backwards.

"I think what you need is a little dose of perspective," the woman says, still smiling, still friendly. That strange mocking echo in her voice seems to be growing stronger, picking up harmonics from somewhere. Marial takes a third step backwards and finds herself backed up against the stairwell door.

...

"Well, uh, right about - right about now, actually."

...

The Astral Plane is spooky.

Well, okay, so a place where dead people go to their eternal rest is always gonna be spooky, but the Astral Plane is spookier than necessary. The last time Magnus saw this place, it was through an enormous gemstone mirror, but it had seemed...peaceful. With the whispering ocean of souls, even a little bit...tropical? Of course, your umbrella and swim trunks would have to be black, but - yeah, he could imagine taking a beach vacation there. A very, very creepy beach vacation.

But this time, as he follows Lup across the dark, formless ground and waits as she chooses where to slice open another portal, Magnus can't imagine the pina colada that would make this palatable. It's just so quiet. The shifting sea seems to be still for once, and he doesn't think it's his imagination that the ethereal blue light it casts is getting dimmer and dimmer. If Magnus squints, he thinks he can make out a faint grey haze casting a pall over it and soaking up its light. He's willing to bet actual human currency that, up close, it smells strongly of smoke.

"Hey, uh, Lulu?" Taako asks, and though his voice is deliberately nonchalant, Magnus can hear the tightness in it. "You done something new with the place? Really working the, the old, 'abandon hope all ye who enter here' vibe."

There's a little frown creasing the space between Lup's eyebrows as she glances distractedly back at them.

"Look, I've been a reaper for less time than you've been dating one," she says. "But no. I don't think any of this is right."

Magnus rests a hand on the head of his axe as he looks around, just in case.

There's another burst of smoke that leaves them all coughing when Lup opens the portal to the Plane of Thought. It still dissipates quickly, but the smell seems to linger longer this time.

They're in a wide, airy, square hall, its walls painted a pale yellow, a huge plate-glass window overtop of a desk just beside them. There are printed signs labeling everything and offering directions down the hall, and all put together, it reminds Magnus of the Halls of Healing back in Neverwinter.

"This better not take too long," Taako complains. "I have an, uh, a guest appearance on, uh, uh, uh, Beat Bobby Mindflayer booked for tonight -"

"It's gonna have to wait," Lup says, warningly.

Magnus follows her line of sight.

The three people standing by the heavy metal door don't seem to have noticed them yet. As Magnus watches, though, the figure to the left - the skeletal figure, flickering in and out of visibility and crackling with red lightning - slowly, slowly turns, and stares directly at him. He's unmistakably a lich, but instead of the red robes Magnus is used to, or even the traditional necromancer's black, he seems to be wearing an extremely ugly neon tracksuit.

The woman standing beside him, in the day-glo suit and enormous earrings, also turns in their direction, and Magnus stumbles backwards. She's got to be the female lich Lup had mentioned, the one who still had her body. There's just something about her eyes -

The girl standing between the two neon horrors half-turns, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes wide and frightened. That's all Magnus needs to see. He pulls his axe free, and, ignoring Lup's shout of "Magnus, wait -", rushes in.

The frightened girl, the one Magnus had pegged as a helpless captive, throws up both hands. And then she throws a fireball the size of a basketball down the hallway at Magnus' head.

...

"I'm gonna need you boys to roll initiative."

[xuxisbbymami]

Psych 101~ Lesson 2

Lesson 1

Masterlist

Warnings- swearing, mentions of sex and Lucas being a butthole

Word Count- 1.2k (be proud) 🙃

A/N- sorry it’s been forever my family and friends have been ass lately so I’ve been uninspired BUTTTTTT lesson 3 is already written and I have something in my drafts I might publish later this week💖

You walk into the library the second 1:14 became 1:15. In fact you got there around 1:10 and waited outside the library.

You walk around the library and look for Lucas.

I know he’s not late to his own tutoring session. The tutoring I so graciously squeezed in for him.

You start to get agitated as your search for him in your massive seems futile. You’re about to leave and look for him to curse him out when you spot him at a table in the back straightening his books and reorganizing his notes. You sigh and walk over to him.

“You’re not late. That’s a good start”. You pull out the chair next to and sit as you pull out your own notes. “So what are you having trouble with” you ask will getting a good look at him. You can see why every girl wants to be fucked by him. Not that you want to. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, “Everything”.

You scoff, “Lucas we just started how are you lost with everything”.

“It’s just that when I saw psych 101 I thought it’s just a stupid elective you know? It was easy last semester you know? It felt like an elective class but Tuck threw a lot of stuff at as today and if today is just the beginning there’s no way I’m passing this class without some help”

You pull out your laptop and pull up your teacher’s website, “Lucky for us Professor Tuck puts everything on his website. The lecture, videos for extra help, extra credit assignments, everything. Just take everything a little at a time. Study everyday after class and before you go to sleep trust me it helps”

He smiles at you and you two start to go over today’s lesson

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Thanks again y/n you’re a lifesaver”.

You’re both packing away your things and getting ready to leave.

“It’s nothing just don’t forget to look over what we reviewed. Text me if you’re having problems”. As you’re turning to leave he gets your attention. “Y/n I just- how are you like this? I don’t know anyone else in our year that’s like you. You’re so organized and focused. I just- teach me your ways”?

You laugh a little. People at school (besides teachers) rarely compliment you on your work ethic. They admire it and are jealous of it but they never really praise you for it. You check your phone to see it’s 2:30. Your next tutoring session doesn’t start until 3. You decide you can sit and chat for a bit. You sit down again as you speak, “I took this class in high school and I’m like everyone else. I just have my priorities straight.”

He shakes his head, “You’re nothing like everyone else. Everyone is focused on drinking, partying and hooking up. I bet you’ve never done things like that. What do you even do for fun?”

You get a little offended. He basically thinks I’m a Mormon great. You ignore his first statement, “I love watching movies. It helps me unwind and lets me feel like I get to live someone’s life.”

“You call that fun y/n? What kind of life are you living”? He laughs.

Now you might be overreacting but he did assume you’re a virgin who’s never tried drugs or gotten drunk AND he’s basically insulting your life after you spent an hour plus going over basic material for a simple elective class. You sarcastically laugh back, “You do realize there’s more to college than partying and having sex with anything that breathes right? You do realize that there’s life after college and some people, like me, are just preparing for it.”

“I get that it’s just that even nerds have stress relievers. They take out their stress and frustration with alcohol or video games I guess. You’re reeling me all you do is study and watch movies. Seems a bit boring”

“I’m sorry if I’m boring to you but luckily it’s none of your business. We attend one of the greatest schools in the nation how did you even get in let alone survive freshmen year? I bet you cheated your way here and relied on people like me. You probably heard that I’m really smart and saw me as an easy way to an A. Well you’re sadly mistaken Yukhei”.

He starts to get mad. “Really y/n you believe those stupid rumors about me? I worked to get here and I worked to stay. You should know more than anyone that rumors aren’t reliable sources of information”. He’s pissed that even someone as antisocial as you has heard rumors about him and he’s disappointed that you believe them and see him as nothing more than a stupid fuckboy.

You shrug, “All rumors have some truth to them even if it’s only a little”.

“People say you’re heartless and that you have no feelings or emotions. They compare you to Joseph fucking Stalin for God’s sake. You’re telling me that has some truth to it? I call bullshit. You’re not what they say you are and I’m not exactly what they say either. You’re actually a nice and generous person. You’re just really intimidating.”

You roll your eyes, “First of all I couldn’t give less of a shit what people say about me. And yes to people that don’t know me I do appear inhuman and you want to compare me to you? What they say about you is probably 100% true. I know you use girls for sex and then pretend they don’t exist. I’ve heard the stories everyone has.”

“I-.” He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t deny what you said about him. He did fuck girls and then dip. “Whatever y/n believe what you want”.

“Oh and let me guess you major in something easy like psychology even though you’re ass at it. That’s how you made it this far”. You are probably taking it a bit too far but he’s acting like he knows you after talking to each other for the first time today. He acts so offended because you got all your information about him from rumors when he most likely did the same thing. AND HE CALLLED YOU BORING.

“Forensic psychology and let me guess you probably major in something like political science or economics. That explains the stick up your ass. I bet you’re a virgin. I’m willing to bet you’ve never even came before. You’re such a fucking prude. Here I am thinking you’re not that bad but you’re right rumors do stem from the truth”.

You’re absolutely done with him now. You get up and prepare to leave, “You know what? This has nothing to do with psychology. I decided to help and make room for you in my very busy schedule because I figured you’re a moron and need all the help you can get as soon as possible. Good luck finding another tutor”. You storm out the library door surprised to see no one had heard your argument. You look at the time to see you only have 10 minutes before your next tutoring session.

Shit! I’m going to late.

You run to the parking lot get in your car and speed to the local high school you’re tutoring at.

Fucking Yukhei. I used my time tutoring his dumbass when I could’ve been resting. Now I’m going to be exhausted.

You dramatically sigh and get out your car. You put on a big smile and prepare to prep these high schoolers juniors for their act.

[redditnosleep]

This Guy Didn’t Stop Laughing For 10 Years

by NYSSA_ASSYN

He ate while laughing. He defecated while laughing. He actually slept, though fitfully, awaking every hour or so—laughing.

For a few of my coworkers, he was the only fun part of their day, but he terrified me.

This was probably because I was the new guy, the green psych tech who still thought he could make a difference. Apparently most psych techs (psychiatric technicians) lose their compassion barometer after a while, and eventually a patient who spends every waking moment laughing is no longer disturbing because he seems harmless.

He terrified me also because, for some inexplicable reason, there was something familiar about him.

To this day, my family still doesn’t understand exactly what my role as a psych tech was. It’s simple: keep crazy people from killing themselves or others. But what did I do all day on the job? Well, sometimes I sat in a chair watching some insane person lie on a bed in a small white room, and if they became agitated, I would lock the door. Sometimes I’d lead “art hour” and we’d paint, or make papier-mâché (no scissors allowed, of course). Sometimes I’d turn on a yoga video for “exercise hour”, and sometimes I pinned psychotic maniacs down so my coworkers could apply the restraints and the nurse would inject 2mg of lorazepam right in their gluteus.

I never got used to it, I kept caring, and that’s why I only lasted a year. The laughing man laughed me right out of that acute psych ward.

Allow me to explain this: there isn’t much that is funny about mental illness, and I don’t mean to be insensitive or flippant about psychosis, about how it can rip the individual and their families apart. But to my fellow psych techs, many of them at least, it was all that these patients were: psychos. Crazies. Maniacs.

I tried to see them as people—they are people—and their illness isn’t the only thing that defines them, but in the acute psych ward, their illness is in full swing, and it’s the only side that psych techs like me saw of them. They were mostly bipolar patients in the height of their manic phase, or schizophrenics having a mental break.

The laughing guy, I’ll call him Aaron, was a schizophrenic in his early 50s, with an atypical form of “catatonia”. Most catatonic schizophrenics will sit motionless, staring off for days without eating or sleeping. I recall one patient there who would stand in the middle of a room, maintaining an impossible pose for several days. When his catatonia subsided, this patient explained that during those frozen moments, he fully believed that if he moved, the world would end. But as in Aaron’s case, (his psychiatrist explained it to me) some catatonics don’t remain motionless, but have repetitive, purposeless motions or actions, and Aaron’s catatonic expression was laughing non-stop.

Aaron had been in and out of the psych ward for years, alternating between the state mental hospital and the local hospital, for there were some “legal” stipulations that didn’t allow him to stay in a long-term facility. (Later I found out it was because no facility could handle his laughing for more than a few months at a time.)

When I started my job, Aaron had already been in this psych ward for over three months, but, according to some of the seasoned psych techs, he had been laughing like this for 10 years.

Like I mentioned, most psych techs found him amusing, and more than once I saw a tech putting his arm around Aaron, laughing with him, mocking the way his high-pitched, almost screeching laugh nervously drowned out any conversation in the room. But Aaron took no notice to them when they did this. His eyes looked straight through anyone who faced him, and he kept pacing in place when a tech tried to hold him, like there was some motor inside him that never shut off.

He paced all day like this, and to get him to eat, I’d have to pace with him, placing bits of food in his mouth as we went. We scheduled bathroom breaks for him every hour so we didn’t have to change his clothes, and this worked 50% of the time. All the while, he laughed his piercing frantic laugh.

It grated on me. Only after a week of being there, I dreaded going up those elevators, greeted by his incessant laugh as I entered that dismal psych ward.

Aaron wasn’t the most frightening patient I had there that year—oh the stories I could tell—but perhaps the strangest, maybe even the most tragic, certainly the most personal. I understood that most catatonics had progressive worsening schizophrenia until they just shut off, but it killed me to know why this guy just started laughing and no one knew why.

Before I quit, I asked nearly everyone about his story and no one knew...until I met Dr. Greenwald, an ancient psychiatrist who hadn’t worked at the psych ward in years. I heard stories of this doctor, and from what I gathered, he was a kind, highly-esteemed man who loved what he did, who didn’t judge these tormented patients. Dr. Greenwald was probably my strongest inspiration to become a physician myself, and to this day, I remember the compassion he showed patients. The older nurses loved him, and when they found out that he was taking a break from his private outpatient practice to round occasionally in the acute psych ward, they were all thrilled.

Meeting Dr. Greenwald actually exceeded my expectations, and I admired how he valued every interaction, genuinely caring about each person in front of him—even lowly psych techs like me.

One night, a few weeks before I quit, I saw Dr. Greenwald exiting Aaron’s room after his evaluation, and I had the feeling he would have answers about Aaron, answers about how he came to be the way he was.

Graciously, he told me. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, there are many things I’ve seen in my career in medicine that don’t make a lot of sense, so many things that bother me until this day. Aaron’s case is yet another case in point. I’ll never forget his story:

The first time Dr. Greenwald met Aaron in the hospital, he recognized a few things: Aaron was a good-natured, caring guy who, not surprisingly, loved to laugh and make others laugh. Dr. Greenwald remembered him capturing audiences, telling the most hilarious stories that would have the whole room in fits. He hadn’t had an easy life, but he weathered his burdens well, easily laughing at life ironies, both big and small.

Dr. Greenwald was unaware of any previous psychiatric history, though Aaron had married a beautiful women who suffered from life-long depression and anxiety. Because Aaron had such a strong desire to care for troubled people, these feelings drew him to his wife. Aaron wanted to fix her, and through it all, he fell in love with her. She quickly became pregnant after they married, and in time gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Her mental illness worsened after the birth, thought to be postpartum depression, and Aaron became nearly obsessed with the study of psychology.

Despite his efforts to fix her, she deteriorated, developing postpartum psychosis, and she began hearing voices telling her to do violent things. Everything changed when Aaron found out his wife had killed his infant son. She hadn’t smothered or drowned him, but had eaten him. Upon hearing this, Aaron started laughing and never stopped.

After Dr. Greenwald finished the story, I sat there speechless though not in silence, as Aaron’s shrill laugh emanated from his hospital room. Dr. Greenwald sat there with me, and I caught a glimpse of emotion on his face.

“Isn’t it odd,” I finally said, “That he broke completely all of the sudden? I thought most catatonics have a long history of schizophrenia or something.” I felt like an idiot as soon as my words left my mouth. Certainly Aaron had some mental disorder to have been a patient of Dr. Greenwald’s.

Dr. Greenwald smiled at me like a loving grandfather. “Somethings are too much for a human mind to handle.”

I guessed that something so tragic could make just about anybody snap.

“What was his diagnosis when you met him, sir?” I asked.

He looked at me puzzled, “What do you mean?”

“When you met him, what were you treating him for?”

“Son, he wasn’t my patient,” he paused. “Aaron was a psych tech here. I worked with him for years. I was here the day his wife was brought in, strapped to a stretcher, that baby’s blood covering her face and clothes. She was completely psychotic, uncontrollable. Aaron was working here that day.”

I gaped at him, my mouth open, and all I managed to squeak out was a bewildered “What?”

Dr. Greenwald sighed heavily. “I imagine that Aaron knew he was about to lose his mind then, and suddenly he became what he tried so hard to fix. The irony was, I guess, too much, so, he just had to laugh.”

Dr. Greenwald stood up and patted me on the shoulder. He had stayed much longer than he expected to, and I slowly stood up watching him walk away. As he exited the secured door, he turned to me and said,

“Strangely, you remind me of him—before he, you know, started laughing. You care a lot about these people, I can tell. They’re lucky to have you.”

Mortified, it suddenly washed over me, the realization nearly drowning me: there was something so intimate and familiar about Aaron. And I could never explain it to even myself how I saw a piece of me in that lifeless shell of a man, that laughing insane man.

I had no response for Dr. Greenwald in that moment, but bursting from my lungs came a terrifying—totally involuntary—laugh.

I turned in my resignation notice that same day.

[thundercluck-blog]

Hello, I am relatively new to art (a couple of months into school) and there are so many things to learn and it's so easy to feel overwhelmed. I spend most of my time on school assignments, if not all, and I'm not sure how to fit in time to practice drawing more like we are expected to. What should I do?

Haha Meg here to answer questions way too late because she is a butt! I kind of want to expand on this a bit because I know exactly how this feels.THIS IS SO NORMAL. My first year of college I struggled horribly with how art was transformed from a stress relieving hobby, to work. I was consumed by projects, had exhausted all my creativity, and felt like I was somehow regressing. Three things helped me with this:

1. Find another hobby and take breaks. I started exercising and going to the gym! This would get me out of the art sludges I would get in, give me a space to de-stress, and surprisingly motivate me to get back to work. Turns out, spending a few hours at a gym is less of a time waster than psyching myself out about how much not-art I was doing for like 3 hours. When I got home I felt refreshed, and excited to get back to work. I got projects done faster and would let myself nap or watch a movie with the extra time. If I felt extra great I would draw in a sketchbook while watching Netflix, or put on youtube art tutorials while browsin’ the internet. You can actually learn a lot without even having to draw! Watching speedpaints, livestreams, or even just checking out art blogs can really help! If your are watching tutorial type things for practice, maybe try out the techniques they are teaching along with them and then continue practicing while guilty pleasure binging Pretty Little Liars for the 18th time.

2. Change the way you think about projects. Don’t think of them as homework. Really, truly make the effort to turn them into something you are excited about! Whether its foundational, 3D, whatever! If you are excited about it, you automatically will absorb the things you learn more precisely and more permanently. It’s kinda like taking a history test. Did you study by using flashcards, did you zone out in class, did you only learn the facts? You might pass, but its doubtful you will retain much even the next day! You gotta get involved, get fascinated by the story! Get invested in it like you get invested in a suburban mom from your hometown and an acquaintance you don’t remember ever meeting but always remember following having a passive aggressive comment duel about the moral implications of a shared Buzzfeed video on facebook.3. Understand WHY you are given these projects. Do you have to draw a cube? Maybe you have to paint a still life? Understand that you are doing this so you can learn the skills of visualizing 3d forms in space inside your brain. Like a super power. Use your newfound xray vision to see through the forms. Knowing why you are doing these things is imperative to your growth. Projects ARE practice and you can learn a lot from them. They shouldn’t be something you do to get them out of the way

Some other things that help me were carrying a sketchbook around with me always! Understanding that practicing and learning mean making a million mistakes. Some drawings are gonna look goofy as heck and that is A OK. Focusing on small drawings instead of large personal projects. You can do A LOT of fast, small sketches. I started doodling little sprites in my free time to help me with poses, for instance. They were small and quick but I learned a lot more about anatomy with them than I ever would spending six hours on one pose in a piece. And like I said, I learned so much from just playing Youtube videos .

Sycra, Sinix, and Blender Guru are some really great tutorial based youtube videos. I especially loved playing Sycra livestreams!

Audra Auclair, Cherylynn Lima, Remarin, Sara Tepes, Sarlis are all great speedpainters!

Drawfee is a comedy type livestream of people drawing silly prompts and hanging out that can be fun to have on while working too!

THIS WAS SO LONG. But I hope it was helpful! Just let yourself grow naturally, don’t feel like you need to be practicing 24/7. If you invest time and love into your projects you WILL grow, and if you absorb creativity you will learn. Draw when you can, but don’t police yourself to the point of it just becoming self inflicted homework that drains you.