#there are a few other contenders that i will probably slap on here if i haven't already...

[dandelionlovesyou]

What does Katniss mean when she says: “A kind Peeta Mellark is far more dangerous to me than an unkind one”?

Chapter 4 of The Hunger Games novel.

Thank you 😊

@curiousnonny

Hi @curiousnonny !

I’m so sorry that this took so long. Things have been very busy. I kinda miss being here on Tumblr for more than just a looksie.

I think Katniss said that because kind people are harder to hate or, in the 74th Games, to kill. In this part of the book, Katniss will be in an arena with Peeta in just a matter of days. If Katniss wants to return home and continue taking care of Prim and her mother, she has to be able to kill the other tributes and be a victor. I know, it sounds gruesome, but that’s the game, and she intends (initially!) to play it. Of course, this thinking of hers doesn’t last long, and she ends up caring for more than her family. There’s Rue, whose kindness saved her when she got stung by tracker jackers. Then there’s Thresh, who spared her life at the Cornucopia. Then, of course, there’s Peeta, a fellow tribute willing to give up his life for her. He’s been nothing but kind to Katniss at this point in the story.

May I just add a few (alright many!) lines from the book? I think it’s a good supplement to the lines you got from Chapter 4. These lines are from Chapter 10.

“Thinking about your family?” he asks.

“No,” I admit a bit guiltily. “All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course.” In the light from below, I can see his face now, the awkward way he holds his bandaged hands. “I really am sorry about your hands.”

“It doesn’t matter, Katniss,” he says. “I’ve never been a contender in these Games anyway.”

“That’s no way to be thinking,” I say.

“Why not? It’s true. My best hope is to not disgrace myself and . . .” He hesitates.

“And what?” I say.

“I don’t know how to say it exactly. Only . . . I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?” he asks. I shake my head. How could he die as anyone but himself? “I don’t want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I’m not.”

I bite my lip, feeling inferior. While I’ve been ruminating on the availability of trees, Peeta has been struggling with how to maintain his identity. His purity of self. “Do you mean you won’t

kill anyone?” I ask.

“No, when the time comes, I’m sure I’ll kill just like everybody else. I can’t go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to . . . to show the Capitol they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games,” says Peeta.

“But you’re not,” I say. “None of us are. That’s how the Games work.”

“Okay, but within that framework, there’s still you, there’s still me,” he insists. “Don’t you see?”

“A little. Only . . . no offense, but who cares, Peeta?” I say.

“I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?” he asks angrily. He’s locked those blue eyes on mine now, demanding an answer.

I take a step back. “Care about what Haymitch said. About staying alive.”

Peeta smiles at me, sad and mocking. “Okay. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart.”

It’s like a slap in the face. His use of Haymitch’s patronizing endearment. “Look, if you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that’s your choice. I

want to spend mine in District Twelve.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if you do,” says Peeta. “Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?”

“Count on it,” I say. Then I turn and leave the roof.

I spend the rest of the night slipping in and out of a doze, imagining the cutting remarks I will make to Peeta Mellark in the morning. Peeta Mellark. We will see how high and mighty he

is when he’s faced with life and death. He’ll probably turn into one of those raging beast tributes, the kind who tries to eat someone’s heart after they’ve killed them. There was a guy like that a few years ago from District 6 called Titus. He went completely savage and the Gamemakers had to have him stunned with electric guns to collect the bodies of the players he’d killed before he ate them. There are no rules in the arena, but cannibalism doesn’t play well with the Capitol audience, so they tried to head it off. There was some speculation that the avalanche that finally took Titus out was specifically engineered to ensure the victor was not a lunatic.

..........

Okay, the last part I could have cut off, but it was just too hilarious of Katniss to think of such a thing about Peeta! Peeta turning into a “raging beast tribute” and a cannibal at that was just pure genius! Such a snarky, Katniss Everdeen!

I added this to show how Katniss was thinking about the game. Her mindset is totally different from Peeta, and it shows at every turn. She didn’t stay this way, of course, and, I think, she realized that a kind Peeta Mellark is not dangerous but rather, someone she needs.

Thanks for the ask @curiousnonny !

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

A Siren Song

Pairing: Robert Dubois/ Bloodsport x Reader

A/N: so I just finished watching the new Suicide Squad for the second time and I’m even more obsessed now than I was the first time I watched it. It’s a brilliant film with actually good humor, a non-sexualizing and actually empowering view on Harley Quinn (that leg scene?? y'all-), the rats?? Rat-catcher 2?? THE SHARK?? FLAG?? Who looked really good in this movie, he might be another contender for a story as well as Harley Quinn so lmk ;) but Bloodsport immediately piqued my interest because it’s Idris Elba and he’s gorgeous, I loved the complexities of his character and I want to write for him and no one else has done it yet?? so shoutout to @honey-im-emotional​​ for the support and push to do it! also love The Bodyguard movie, helped with the inspo <3 and i’m so sorry all of my stories are similar but I HAVE A TYPE enjoy and feedback is always appreciated loves and there will be SPOILERS so be warned, also if you want a Harley one next lmk ;) (it’s so long I’m so sorry lol)

Summary: You’re a highly targeted member of the royal family, the last in your line. Bloodsport is hired to be your bodyguard to both watch and assassinate the men after you. He believes it’s below his pay-grade, but reluctantly agrees, doing so to the best of his abilities. But the closeness brings more intimacy than you two expected, and sparks fly.

Warnings: foul language, sexual content, smut, choking, light bdsm, fluffy fluff, dirty dancing, dirty talk, violence and bad guys getting murdered, mentions of Harley x Reader (y’all sexy dance and kiss), reader likes women, dom! Bloodsport, age gap, alcohol consumption, jealousy, heavy kissing, slight angst, just a good time honestly

Word Count: 3,825

You dangle from the ceiling with your aerial silk, fitting your leg in the loop you’ve created, and dangling upside down. The rope wraps around your waist as you hang gracefully from your marble walls, flying. Your friend Harley Quinn taught you how to do this years ago, it now being your favorite form of exercise and relaxation when you need a moment to clear your head. 

As you lightly spin, twirling and dancing in the air with your chandelier reflecting light everywhere, a dazzling fairy floating in a sea of stars. You hear footsteps approach and move to hang upside down, facing towards the grand door. Robert Dubois, a.k.a Bloodsport, walks forward to stand directly in front of you. 

You have known him a few weeks or so now, him having to watch your every move and tracking down your family’s killers. He stands and meets your eyes as you dangle, hair falling below you.

“Hi,” you giggle, face flushed with heat. “I probably look ridiculous right now.”

He composes himself so he doesn’t crack a smile, but you see his lips twitch when he speaks, “No, Mrs. y/l/n.”

“I have a first name, you know,” you grin widely. “I’m younger than you, which hardly warrants such a professional title.”

“My apologies, y/n,” he fixes himself.

“It’s alright,” you ease, filling him with a sense of softness he hasn’t felt in a long time. You flip and land on your feet, letting go of your silks. 

You don’t notice as his eyes glaze over your body in your sports bra and shorts, something his cold, calculated stare should never succumb to, but he does anyway and he kicks himself for doing it. You’re his client and should therefore remain as such, no conflict of interest or thoughts other than to protect. He didn’t want this job, hell, he still doesn’t know why he said yes. Maybe it was the money. Or maybe it was upon seeing you that first time, in that star-studded gown the night of a charity gala you were attending, the way the diamond littered fabric hung over your figure, absolutely dazzled. The way you looked at him and smiled, like you were used to with all the other nobles and adoring fans. But he let himself believe it was different.

He can’t do that anymore, however, because he can’t allow for any complications. And falling for his boss is certainly a complication. 

You look at him and your eyes widen with realization, “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me cover up.”

You grab a tee shirt and toss it over your exercise clothes. He looks down as you do so and clears his throat. This brings a small smile to your face.  

“You called me in here,” he gestures to the necklace charm hanging around your neck that you can squeeze and send an instant distress signal whenever you need it. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

“Wanted you to spot me,” you tease, a smile overtaking your delicate features. You have a sort of stunning beauty about you that takes him by surprise every time he lays eyes on you. Which is often. You lay on your yoga mat and sit up straight with that same damned smile. 

“I’m here to do a job, y/n,” he says, his deep, honeyed voice coating the way he says your name like heat to sugar. “Not aid you in your workout routine.”

“What? Your assassin training didn’t include sit ups?” you smile, tongue in cheek.

“No, but if you need a way to kill a man with a book,” he presses a foot over both of yours as you begin to do sit ups. “Then I’m your man.”

“Yeah, you and John Wick,” you breathe out with a laugh. “And shouldn’t you be in here watching me already? Not by the door?”

“This room has no windows and no other door or entrance besides the one I was standing by. I thought you would want privacy,” he averts your gaze. “I’m sure it’s a hard thing to come by these days for a woman like yourself.”

You stop what you’re doing and look up at him, blinking, “Well, you’d be right,” you tuck your hair back. “So thank you.”

He meets your eyes, bordering on a smile, “You’re welcome.”

“Is that a smile I see?” you chuckle.

The smile shines, “It was a diversion. And you failed.”

You laugh loudly, “Will the next diversion be an actual laugh?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper diversion if you knew what it was.”

You tap his feet so he’ll get the hint and let you up. You rise to your feet and dust yourself up, “I appreciate your spotting.” You press a hand to his chest and hum. Warmth radiates from your palm and he inhales sharply. “For someone who wasn’t trained, you sure are a fast learner.”

He looks at your hand and back to your eyes, heat sprouting from where your hand touches. His hand flexes at his side as he looks around the room, to the door, seeing if it’s closed. 

“I-” he cocks an eyebrow then settles. “I think I should go.”

He watches you look at him with wounded eyes, brow lowered, you open your mouth then close it. 

You nod, moving away from him, “Right.”

You move to walk away when he stops you, mouth by your ear, voice dropping an octave when he whispers, “Just so you know-” you tilt your head up almost instinctively to hear him better. “-my assassin training did include reminding people who they are when they’ve forgotten their place.”

You look up at him fully now, “You work for me, remember?”

“I work for money. And you didn’t hire me. I was employed by Mrs. Waller to keep you alive,” he cocks his head slightly. 

“So it would be frowned upon by her when you’re unable to walk if you touch me like that again.”

You couldn’t believe he had just said that. Your eyes widen and your cheeks once again heat up, blushing. Your chest gets hot when he doesn’t break the stare like he’s calling your bluff, and fuck, did he do just that. You turn away from him.

You can hear the smile in his voice, “That’s what I thought.”

~~~

“Robert said that!?” Harley exclaims, eyes wide. Her jaw is dropped as she does her mascara aggressively in the mirror. “He’s usually so...”

You tug down your tiny halter top over your head, your bright, flattering makeup complementing the colorful swirling pattern, “An empty void with no emotion?”

She nods emphatically, agreeing, “Exactly! I had no idea he had it in him?” she raises her brow and smooths down her leather black and red dress, “Or that he wanted to put it in you-”

You slap her arm, chastising, “You don’t know that. It might have been a threat to actually paralyze me in a very not sexual way.”

“I say both are arousing,” she shrugs, platinum curls bouncing.

You roll your eyes with a small smile aimed at the floor, “Anyway-” you slip a belt through your tight jeans, hitting at your waist when you cinch it in. “We should get going if we want to get to the club on time.”

She pauses. “Y/n. Are you sure we should be doing this?”

You do a double take, “You’re telling me that we shouldn’t sneak out and have a good time?”

“I know the irony is apparent,” she looks at you with a knowing stare. “But not if it means you’re in danger. Which you are.”

“I know,” you frown. “But I’ve been locked in this house for months, I miss going out and having a life. I’m tired of being coddled.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she sighs, looking past herself in the mirror to flash me a sympathetic smile. She thinks for a beat and finally spins around, “Alright, screw it, doll, let’s go paint the town.”

You buzz with excitement, grinning, “Yay! Thank you, thank you! I wonder who will be djaying...” you trail off. 

Harley’s face falls and her mouth goes in a solid, straight line, looking past your shoulder, “I don’t think anyone will be.”

You laugh, completely oblivious, “Of course there will be. There has to be music. Dancing in silence would be pretty fucking awkward.”

“This moment is pretty fucking awkward.”

“What do you mean?”

A deep, irritated voice sounds off behind you, “Because you’re not going.”

You jump out of your skin, “Shit, Robert! You scared the hell out of me!”

“You’re not going to that club,” he folds his arms over his chest. You look over him and his casual, night wear: a loose tee and low hanging joggers. You almost wipe your mouth from salivating. Your outfit elicits the same reaction.

You pinch your eyebrows together, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I can. I’m tasked with protecting you.”

“Yeah. And nowhere on your job description does it say ‘become my parent’. There’s not an opening now just because I don’t have one. I am a grown ass woman and I have been a prisoner in my own home. The same home where...” you pause, a lump in your throat at the reminder of your family’s passing. You shake it off, “I’m just tired. I want a piece of my life back. You can either stay here or come. Either way I’m going.”

He gives you a quick once over and contemplates his options before dropping his arms to his sides and letting out a long exhale.

“Fine.”

You somewhat relax at his defeated tone, “Fine, what?”

He relents, “You can go, but I’m coming with you. But if anything happens to you, I’m not to be blamed. I will leave your ass in that club.”

You grin and jump up to give him a tight hug around the neck. He stiffens before slowly rubbing your back. You sink into his embrace, feeling like you were floating in water, now above the surface as he brings you back to oxygen. Harley smiles at the exchange and she winks theatrically. 

He glares. 

It’s not long before you three arrive at the club, music blaring and colorful lights flashing over the crowded floors. From his stare and intimidating aura, the club staff thought he was a bouncer and let you all in immediately. But before he was roped into working, the three of you bee-lined to the bar. 

“The prettiest and strongest drink ya got, sugar,” Harley smiles at the pretty bartender.

“And what if that’s me?” she responds, ebony hair falling onto one shoulder.

“Then I’ll have to drink you later,” Harley gives her a flirty once over and you roll your eyes.

The bartender grins and gestures towards me for my order, I answer quickly, “Scotch on the rocks.”

Robert looks at you, poorly covering his shocked expression. “Really?”

“Yeah, why?” you look up at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a straight liquor type, Ms. y/l/n,” he finally lets his hidden laugh show through, butterflies erupting in your chest. The diversion definitely worked, whatever you were thinking about before this has immediately left you.

“Then this is going to be the first surprise of many tonight, Mr. Dubois,” you return the smug look as he orders the same thing. You both share a look.

The bartender slides you all your drinks, each of you taking a long swig for liquid courage for the night. Harley’s favorite Doja Cat song comes on and she gasps, clapping excitedly when she grabs you by the wrist, pulling you on the dance floor, “Come dance with me.”

You mouth a small ‘sorry’ to Bloodsport who you left at the bar, he shakes his head with a smile over the rim of his glass, watching you guys’ drinks. 

She dances wildly, jumping up and down, spinning to let her hair fall in many beautiful angles. She’s a powerful force and your greatest friend. She puts her arms around your neck and the two of you move in time with the music.

“So...” she motions to Bloodsport who’s being forced into a conversation with a woman at the bar. The woman puts her hand on his and he visibly shrinks back and whispers something to her that causes the most horrid look from the woman and for her to walk quickly away. You smile at the relief that interaction has brought you.

“So what?” you spin her around and pull her back.

“Quit with the good dancing, or I’m gonna fuck you myself,” she teases with a lightheaded giggle.

You smile, “We’ve tried that already, remember?”

“Too much history, I know, I know. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice...” she whispers into your neck, kissing the soft spot under your chin. Your skin heats up under her touch as she drags her hands down your sides, pulling you close to her so that you’re flush against her chest.

You give into her and kiss her slowly, her soft lips melt into your own when her hands tug in your hair. Harley and you have always had a complicated friendship, with enough sexual attraction to fuel a nuclear bomb, but not enough romantic. You love each other but not in the way you both need. You were in love with Robert and she is continuing to explore her sexuality because she likes women and so do you. So as she trails her hot mouth down your neck in the middle of dozens of bustling bodies and you lock eyes with an angry Bloodsport, you knew exactly what she was doing.

You whisper, out of breath, “Are you trying the jealousy trick?”

“It worked in college, didn’t it?” she kisses your cheek, smiling gently against your skin. “And it’s working now.”

“I think you’re just obsessed with kissing me,” you kiss her back.

“It was a win-win situation, doll,” she grins devilishly and you can’t help but agree. “So when you’re done with him, come see me. But right now, I have a sexy bartender lady to drink up.” You grip her hand and let her make her way to her next conquest.

Robert had seen the tail-end of your kiss, his deft fingers clenched around his whiskey glass. He knows he shouldn’t let this sort of thing affect him, something as juvenile and simple as jealousy. But he couldn’t stop that feeling of being stuck, unable to think about anything except the fact that it wasn’t him with his hands on you like that, lips marking you as much as he pleases. Sadness washed over him in a tidal wave and he set his glass down, about to get up to leave when he spotted a man eyeing you from the door. He looked familiar and it wasn’t just attraction he sensed in his eyes but something far more sinister.

A few more men followed suit and began making their way to you in the middle of the dance floor. He had no time to consider the facts, just to get you out of there as soon as possible. 

You feel a rough hand tug your arm and turn to face who you think to be Dubois, you smile, “Enjoy the show?”

“Very much,” an unknown voice answers, and you look up, eyes wide. “Now why don’t you come with me for a little talk, beautiful.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you yank your arm back, slamming your heel down into the perpetrator’s foot. More men surround you on all sides, making it impossible for you to escape or use your subpar martial arts skills. Aerial yoga was a very different ballpark than kicking ass. And you were just a beginner.

You poorly punch a man in the face, only making them all angrier when you’re grabbed from all sides, being dragged towards the exit kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to be that helpless damsel in distress, but as all of these men, men you recognized from your family’s death, were surrounding you, you couldn’t breathe. Their hands felt familiar, grabbing your arms like they’d done that night before you hid in the secret door in the dining room. You had watched these faceless men through a hole in that door, stifling your cries when bullets sprayed the room your family was having dinner in. So while they were coming after you and pulling you outside, it’s all you felt. That same feeling when he wasn’t near.

Drowning.

There’s a hand that pulls you back and you watch, dazed, as Bloodsport puts every man who touched you on the ground. It’s filled with swift yet aggressive and barbaric movements, controlled, expert chaos and it happens within moments. His chest is heaving when he looks down at you and scoops you up in his arms. You’d object in any other circumstances, but this time, head against his chest and tucked in his arms, you were okay.

His voice rumbles against your side, “We’re going home.”

~~~

Harley’s tears hit your shoulder as you sympathetically pat her back.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have left,” she sniffles loudly. “I should’ve been there.”

You laugh softly, fitting your head into her shoulder, “It’s okay, Harls. It’s not your fault, there was no harm done.”

“There could have been,” she sighs. “I’m not letting you convince me to go out next time, you’re staying here forever.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “Alright.”

She gets up and sniffs, wiping at her nose that’s now flushed from crying, “Good because I’m serious.”

“I know,” you laugh again, hugging yourself in a hoodie much too large for you, (because you stole it from Rick Flagg) swallowing you whole. 

Your eyes wander down the hall to where Robert is no doubt pacing around in your bedroom, the only room not laden with cameras (ironically for privacy). You kick at the floor in your fuzzy socks and think of an excuse to go check on him, even though you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now. You, frankly, don’t care.

“I’m gonna go-” 

“Check on Robert?” she finishes. “I know, honey. I was a psychiatrist, I’m not stupid.”

You crack a smile and grip her arm affectionately as you walk past her towards the bedroom. You don’t even take the risk of knocking for fear he’ll lock it and try your luck with just simply opening it. You see him, shirtless with a towel over his shoulder, a low hanging towel wrapped around his waist, while nursing his knuckles. He looks you over once you enter the room, trained eyes on you and the intimidation is definitely working already when he takes the damp towel on his shoulder and dabs the cuts on his skin.

He remains silent and you move to sit down on your bed, the awkward squeak filling the already high-tension atmosphere, thick enough to make your ears pop like you’re in an airplane too far up in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, drawing his eye. 

He hums and steps into your bathroom, washing off his hands. 

You frown at his lack of response, “Are you really going to pout this whole time? Because honestly, it’s beneath you, Robert.” You lean forward, watching as he walks out of the bathroom, still half naked, still silent. 

The silence is beginning to slowly kill you, especially when he looks this good, water droplets running down his chiseled torso from a hot shower. You didn’t let your mind wander because if the reaction your body is giving from the image before you was any indication, you want him. He walks in the room once again, mouth in an amused yet firm line. 

In actuality, he was ashamed of himself. Not so much of you. He would’ve left as that despair overcame him back in that bar. He would’ve left you there and abandoned his mission, leaving you to be hurt. If it hadn't been for those men, you could’ve been killed and it would be his fault. He alerted Waller of the attack, making up a lie about the two of you going for a walk at night and getting ambushed there rather than at a club. There’s a hit on each of those men being taken out as we speak as well as a search for their boss. Even though that still got him chewed out. He couldn’t imagine what she’d do to him if she found out the truth.

Robert walks slowly towards you, leaning against the bed frame, gesturing for you to continue. You watch him, distracted, as he wraps a bandage around his knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have kissed her to get a rise out of you, that was hurtful,” you exhale your words, quiet enough he wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t within a breath of one another. You hang your head, “And it was stupid to go out in the first place when I am in this much danger. I could’ve been killed, and you could have been hurt. I’m sorry.”

He represses a laugh at the idea of him getting hurt, when the two of you both know that would never happen. But as the silence from him grows thicker, the more you start to ramble.

“Okay, this silent treatment isn’t going to work for much longer. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you need to stop.”

He gives you a look that says ‘make me’. But you both know you couldn’t if you tried, and vice versa. He thinks of you as a siren, one of those alluring creatures in old sailor tales that lured unsuspecting men to their painful deaths. As if he has no control of the way he feels about you. Which in a way he does, but he knows better. He knows better than to fall under your enchanting song, but he can’t help but be pulled beneath the surface of the water. 

Robert tenses when you move forward and the hoodie falls off one of your shoulders, revealing more of your chest, the smooth skin that lays there. 

His chest tightens when you look up at him and sigh.

“But thank you for saving me,” you say, both because you think that’s what he wants to hear but also because you mean it, you wouldn’t be here at all if he didn’t come with you.

He licks his lips and nods his head in simple recognition. He appreciated the apology, truly he did, but a part of him enjoyed the way you continued to ramble on, so he remained silent. This was an old interrogation tactic he learned when he served, keeping quiet always got people talking. He looks down at you and leans to meet your face, hands on either side of you. 

“I don’t know what else you wish for me to say,” you admit quietly, fiddling with your hands.

He didn’t know either but whatever you would say, he would listen.

“So I take it you’re not mad anymore?” you infer from his relaxed posture, heart beating out of your chest, fast enough that it catapults to your throat. 

He tilts his head down so he’s an inch before your mouth, breath fanning over your face. when he tugs you up to your feet, hands gripping the sides of your waist when he pulls you close. Your heartbeats began to sync up, chest to chest.

“I’m fucking furious, sweetheart.”

You meet his eyes, looking up in that seductive stare of yours you never knew you were capable of until him, and close the distance, kissing him lightly. His arms falter by your side and it’s the first time you’ve seen him hesitate, losing his cool. It’s the most gentle thing he’s ever experienced, everything in his life being forced, hostile, and malicious, while your soft lips against his are anything but. You kiss him like he’s not the monster he thinks himself to be. 

“Then let me make it up to you.”

“Fuck,” he grips your sides harder, palm moving to push you closer with his hand flat against the small of your back. “We shouldn’t.”

You search his face for uncertainty, but all you sense is a profound sense of clarity, in the both of you. “I know.”

“Will you regret this?”

You shake your head, hand against his cheek, “No.”

His dark eyes fall to your lips, pupils filling his dark brown irises, lust blown, “You’re so good, baby. You’re too good for me.”

Before you can tease him about the new nickname and object to that, his lips have crashed against your own. His hand slides up to cup the side of your face, drinking you in with his intoxicating kiss. You hum, content, against his feverish mouth and he opens it, vulnerable and on display. You feel his guard still up, tense and calculated, so you rest your hand against his chest. You press a kiss to his eyelid, his cheek, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his neck. He softens beneath you, groaning aloud as his hands tighten. 

“You don’t need to be afraid with me,” you whisper to him, tender fingers trailing down his shirtless chest, hot skin against hot skin. It’s enough to make you sweat.

He exhales and captures your bottom lip with his own, holding your face in both of his hands. The kiss grows heated and rushed, like you’re running out of time, as if at any moment those men would come back and find you and take you away from him again. His tongue expertly works with your own, licking the pout of your bottom lip, and coaxing you open. He slides his hand down between your legs, dipping his finger to find the slick in the middle of your thighs. You moan into his mouth, his other hand at the back of your neck when he buries his face in your shoulder. He kisses you there, the crook where your neck meets your collarbone, that damned sensitive spot. You succumb to his touch. His beard tickles your skin and you gasp when he sucks hard, a bruise forming.

You breathe a laugh, “Everyone will see if you leave a mark,” you tug on his hair when you thread it through his coarse curls. 

He falls under your spell and there’s something so ironically beautiful about this trained assassin with a heart of gold and the scars to show for it, being so open with you.

His hands, his entire life, have been forced to be instruments of death and violence. But as they slide down your figure, holding your face, and pulling you into him, they’re his greatest gift. He’s surprisingly tender with you. 

But then he has enough and pushes you down on the bed, arms trapping you on both sides.

He responds bluntly, “I don’t care.”

You part your legs for him and he releases a shaky breath. He slowly unzips your sweatshirt and it falls off you just as you do the same and tug his towel down. Both of you are bare before the other as you take a moment to drink each other in. You were just as, if not more, beautiful than he imagined you to be. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly as his hand drapes down the line of your figure. He touches you how someone would handle a glass vase filled with flowers. 

You take his face in both of your hands and kiss him, “So are you.” 

“I don’t think you know what you do to me, baby.” His hand finds your breast and squeezes while he kisses your neck.

You moan when he uses his other hand to grip your neck, thumb against your pulse point, “If it’s anything like how I feel right now, then yes, I do.”

He lifts his head up to watch your face as he chokes you, softly so he doesn’t hurt you but hard enough to play with your breath. His thumb opens your mouth and your legs tremble. 

“So I take it you’re into choking, my love?” You nod excitedly, unable to speak, and his grip tightens. 

You let out a squeak and he releases, face etched with worry, kissing your neck where he touched you. “Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” 

You shake your head and smile comfortingly, “No, baby, I’m okay. I’ll tap out if it’s too rough, I promise,” you tease.

His grumbling voice deepens, “Good... because, darling, right now all I want to do is bury my face in between those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

You inhale sharply when he opens your legs once again, looking up at you and you nod in consent.

“I need words, beautiful,” he smirks with his mouth just above your center. 

“Yes, please,” you breathe out and he responds with a swift lick to your pussy. He looks up at you and when he catches your eye, it’s as if the sensation grows stronger and your head hits your pillow.

“I’ve barely even touched you,” he mumbles into you and you feel his smug smile in your thigh. His fingers dip into you as he flattens his tongue and crooks them towards himself, you grip your sheets.

“Don’t... flatter yourself,” you sigh out. “I-it’s just been awhile.”

He removes his mouth and fingers from you, “So anyone can make you feel like this?”

You enjoy the feeling you get when he looks at you like that, his eyes dark and dominant, so you play along and nod. “Yes, in fact, I’ve had better.”

He licks his lips and gets up from the bed. He opens his drawer and you sit up to look what he grabs: a belt. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest even though you know you shouldn’t be. He gets back on the bed and climbs over you.

Robert looks at you, “Hands.”

You extend them to him wordlessly, watching as he ties your wrists together and puts them over the bedpost so you’re trapped there, unable to move.

“Now,” he holds himself above you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re to stay tied up until I say so, anything like that again and they get tighter. Nod if you understand me.”

You nod emphatically. You had never seen this side of Robert before, so in control and not afraid to go too far, it was so unbelievably sexy. 

The best part was he didn’t tie it tight enough, afraid of hurting you, so you could easily slip out your hands at any moment.

He kisses, painfully slow, down your chest and wraps his lips around your nipple. He swirls his tongue around the erect bud and you gasp, desperate to touch him. He looks up at you from you chest as he switches to the other, massaging the unattended one as he sucks, the pleasurable feeling overwhelming you. So much so you have to clench your thighs together, longing for some sort of relief for the tension building in your abdomen.

“Baby, please,” you whine, squirming beneath him.

He shuts you up with a bruising kiss while his hand slips down to enter you, two fingers in already. He pumps them in and out of you before sliding back down the expanses of your body and letting his mouth latch onto your clit. He sucks hard and you stifle a loud moan that would surely alert everyone in the home of your arousal. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. His tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. But just before you feel that euphoric release, his actions cease and you’re left hot and flustered. 

“Robert,” you look at him with a deep frown.

He grins, “Y/n...”

You blow hair out of your eyes, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He puts his lips near your ear, “Are you ready?” You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder. 

You finally have enough, slip your hands out, and he pinches his brow, unable to hide his shock before you bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places. He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He was right, it’s the best you’ve ever had. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. Your hair is in messy tendrils at all angles and you’ve never been more attractive.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises in your ear, placing kisses across your jaw. “Taking my cock so well.”

You whimper and his movements stiffen as he approaches release and so do you, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, it continues on, leaving you aching and wanting more.

He rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Everything you both have wanted for a long time, laying right in front of you.

“Still want to make me not walk?” you tease, looking up at him.

He kisses your eyelids and you giggle, “Fuck yes.”

Part 2?

[kaorusakurayashikiswife]

new beginnings

pairing: Kaoru Sakurayashiki x f!reader

wc: 2k

warnings: angst (not really idk); fluff; exes to lovers; not proofread

notes: first post!! I saw that there weren’t really a lot of writings for Kaoru and decided to take it upon myself to write some!! I hope you enjoy, and please do tell me if there’s a mistake anywhere or if I there’s a warning I should add

“Are you ever going to skate again?”

Kojiro grins at you, handing you your food. You were on your break from work and decided to visit your old friend from high school.

“Kojiro you know why I can’t”

“It’s been a year I’m sure everyone wants to see you skating again!” You can’t blame him for his enthusiasm, it had almost been a year after you decided to quit skating due to breaking up with Kaoru. Before you quit you were known in ‘S’ as one of the top contenders, good enough to go against Adam, you had never gone on a beef against him since you had no interest to compete against someone like him.

“C’mon (Y/N)! You know everyone wants to see the infamous RIN again! After your sudden disappearance last year your fans have been missing you, there's even a new guy you can compete against!” You leaned in to cover his mouth, you didn’t want anyone knowing the name you were under while skating in S.

“Fine! I’ll visit but I’m not competing, I just want to see the poor soul that caught Adam’s eye.”

Kojiro smiled, knowing you, you’d probably compete either way, he knew that you’d been missing skating in S after he found you practicing. Your break up with Kaoru had changed their dynamic as you wanted nothing to do with him while he regretted letting you go.

The break up was because Kaoru kept insisting to go against Adam, you knew it was a bad idea, you had tried convincing him many times that the Adam he once knew was gone. Kaoru didn't like it as Adam was very dear to him, he had snapped at you and told you that you didn’t know him and that he’d rather break up with you than listening to your nonsense. You pitied the man, you’d heard what Adam had done to him a few days prior and wanted nothing more than to slap the man for hurting Kaoru.

“You won’t regret it! I’ll see you then RIN”

You hit him again, wanting to keep your professional life and personal life separate, “Say that name again out loud and I’m not going”.

Kojiro watched as you left the restaurant, sakura keychain still in dangling out of your bag like it had been so many years ago.

“You guys really are similar in that aspect”

Once you get home you sigh, your job has been taking a toll on you and you really needed a break. You look into your closet and see your skateboard, the only reason why you quit skating is because it reminded you of him, he was the one to teach you how to skate after all. The same man who decided to leave you to chase after the memory of the friend he once knew.

Making up your mind you change into your outfit and head down the same familiar path leading to the mine.

“Yo (Y/N)! Long time no see”

“You asshole! you call me by my name here and call me by my S name in public! Do you have a death wish?” You get closer to Kojiro to give him a piece of your mind, until you see four guys next to him: two boys who look like they’re in high school, an intimidating guy with clown-looking make-up, and a little boy who you think you’ve seen on TV.

“IS THAT RIN?!?” the redhead boy yelled, it caused everyone to turn to you, you were now the center of attention, mutters about the sudden appearance of one of the most known skaters in S.

“Who’s she?”

Compared to the redhead, the blue haired guy seemed like he was new, you assumed he was the rookie that Kojiro had mentioned earlier in the day.

“She’s a really well-known skater in S! she’s beaten a lot of people here, it’s said that she’s on par with Adam, but they’ve never gone against each other!”

“damn right and never will, I like not having broken bones thank you” you muttered, as everyone calmed down, they introduced themselves and seemed intrigued to see an old face.

“I came to see the new rookie everyone’s been talking about, I’m only here to watch though” everyone’s faces dropped, they seemed disappointed to not be able to see you skate.

“Then why’d you bring your skateboard hm?” Kojiro smirks at you, knowing that you’d come here to skate a little, even if it was just for fun.

“Fine, how about this? SNOW” you pointed at Langa and motioned him to follow you, “you’re coming with me, I wanna see why everyone is talking about you” you take Langa along and decide to skate against him in the course.

“Sorry I’m late, I forgot to charge Carla earlier today so she finished charging a little later than usual” Kaoru stood next to Kojiro to see why everyone seemed more excited. “Right on time Cherry! Look who’s skating today”.

Kaoru looked at the screen, it was you, he hadn’t seen you in a year and you never bothered to answer the messages he had sent you, not that he blamed you for that. You looked just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more, the way your hair flowed freely made you look ethereal, and your face seemed to glow while you were skating, an expression he had missed seeing from you.

He wanted to apologize, after the incident with Adam that landed him in the hospital he realized that his friend was gone, no semblance of him left. While in his hospital bed he remembered the words you had told him before he broke up with you. He knew he had no right to apologize now, but seeing you at S made him realize he missed you and wanted you back, if you’d have him of course.

Langa was surprised, your style of skating was different from anything he’d seen before, it looked complicated but you didn’t seem to be struggling at all. Due to him being distracted he hadn’t realized that you’d already crossed the finish line before him.

“That was good! You knew how to snowboard before learning how to skate right?” You asked excitedly, it had been a while since you’ve had this much freedom while skating. “Yes, how’d you know?”

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to snowboard! Your stance seemed similar to those in videos I’ve seen online!”

As you walk back to the rest of the group you see him. Kaoru’s hair got a bit longer but apart from that nothing seemed too different, he still had that unapproachable aura around him. He seemed to be staring at you but you refused to look at him in the eye, you still missed him after all.

“Long time no see (Y/N)” He tried reaching out to you but you didn’t move at all, “Don’t call me that here.”

“Right, sorry Rin”

It seemed that everyone around you was aware of the tense atmosphere, although nobody really knew of what relationship you and Cherry held.

As everyone headed home, you decided to stay back and skate a little, you didn’t know when the next time you were going to be able to skate again after all. That’s when you notice it, just a little behind you were Joe and Cherry trying to catch up to you. “Rin! I thought you weren’t skating anymore?” You didn’t need to turn to see that there was a smile on his face.

“Don’t you have any fangirls to be with?” You retort, speeding a bit to gain distance from them.

“They all went home, why? You jealous?”

“As if.”

“Cherry over here wants to talk to you.”

In all honesty, you’d forgot he was even there at all, if it weren’t for Carla telling him the angles once in a while, you wouldn’t even have noticed him. You were pondering whether you should listen to what he had to say, “He’s been all gloomy ever since he saw you”. You heard someone fall, assuming it was Kojiro you kept going, he deserved it anyway.

You and Kaoru skated in silence for a bit, the only sounds heard were the wheels of both of your skateboards. As you were the first to pass the finish line you stop, getting off of your skateboard and getting ready to go back home.

“So what’d you want to talk about?”

Kojiro looks surprised, he thought you hadn’t noticed him staring at you. Frankly, he wanted to apologize and ask for a second chance, he knew he was undeserving of it though, you only wanted the best for him, but he pushed you away.

“I wanted to apologize for before, I know you meant well, but I only pushed you away when you tried helping me. I should’ve listened to what you said.”

Although it was a bit short and awkward, you knew he meant it. To be honest, you don’t blame him, he only wanted to know what had happened to his friend after he disappeared and came back with a whole different personality. You would’ve done the same if a friend whom you considered family did the same. You knew that even though he had finally come to terms with the fact that the Adam he knew in high school was gone, he was still hurting. You understood all of this, yet it was still hard to forget how angry he’d gotten at you, how he went on and on about how you didn’t know Adam at all (even though you’d been there when all four of you skated together in high school), and how he couldn’t be with someone who talked ill about his best friend. You remember how he broke up with you through a phone call after being late for a date, how you had to show up in your friend’s front door with all of your stuff, in fear of going to Kojiro’s restaurant because he was probably there.

“You didn’t need to wait a year to apologize to me” He flinched, knowing full-well what you were speaking of. He knew he had messed up the moment he ended the call, but his pride didn’t let him go back to your shared apartment to apologize to you, and he assumed that you were probably packing your bags as he headed to Kojiro’s place to drink.

“I didn’t know what to do after I went back to the apartment with your stuff gone”

“Well, I can’t just stay in my ex-boyfriend’s apartment after he just broke up with me can I?”

There was a silent pause, you were basically ready to head back home, but decided to wait to see if he had more to say. “Alright, if you’re done I’ll be heading home now.”

He quickly grabbed your wrist, stopping you from leaving, “it’s late, let me take you home”.

You declined, Kojiro had already promised you to take you back home. At the mention of his name he looked confused.

“Kojiro left a long time ago though?”

You were surprised, looking around for the tall muscle-headed idiot, but Kaoru was right, he left you behind. You were really going to kill him this time, it was probably part of his plan so you could talk things out with Kaoru.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d be grateful if you did then” you offered him a small smile, you had to be nice to the person driving you back to your apartment.

The ride home was silent, all he could hear were Carla’s directions to your apartment. As you got home and thanked him for the ride he stopped you again.

“Can I have another chance?” You stayed silent, he took your silence as a rejection and started his engine to leave, but this time, you were the one to stop him.

“You still owe me a meal at Kojiro’s” He blinked, confused as to what you were saying. Then he remembered, he had made you a promise that every time you beat him in S he’d buy you your favorite dish at Kojiro’s restaurant.

He smiled, frown no longer on his face after the promise of a new beginning, “Of course, tell me when you’re free to get it”.

[mymoodwriting]

Request for Anon (Yandere Urban Legend NCT Dream) 4k, camping, ghost stories, hypnosis, mind control, smut, penetration, anxiety

“What am I doing out here?”

    It was the middle of the night and you were standing in the middle of the woods. You and your friends had decided to spend some time together, so you chose camping and rented a cabin. There were rumors that the woods were haunted. That if you weren’t careful you’d be overwhelmed by voices and driven insane. Supposedly a lot of people went missing around this place. Of course you didn’t believe any of that, so you weren’t worried.

    When you got up to get a glass of water you swore that you saw something, or someone, out in the woods. You thought it might be one of your friends so you went out into the night cold. Now you were standing in the woods, alone, with nothing but pajama shorts and a spaghetti strap shirt. There was no logical reason for you to be out there, you probably could have done a head count inside before coming out, and yet for some reason stepping away from the cabin seemed like a good idea.

    You turned around to go back but instead you bumped into someone. Instinctively you were going to scream, not expecting anyone to just sneak up on you, but they quickly covered your mouth and shoved you further into the woods until you hit a tree. You thought it was one of your friends, but when the moonlight hit just right, you could see that you were being pinned by a total stranger. Now you really wanted to scream but that wasn’t going to happen.

“Quiet.”

    The scream suddenly died in your throat, and he moved his hand away. You had a million questions but nothing came out. You started to freak out as you realized you couldn’t speak at all, you lost your voice. You started up at the stranger in disbelief, now very afraid.

“I was hoping it was you.” He chuckled and pet your head, making you flinch. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. Just follow me.”

    He took your hand and started walking, you keeping up with him, your legs seeming to move on their own. You glanced back at the cabin, wanting to scream, but you weren’t in control of yourself anymore. You had no idea what was going on, how this guy was making you do these things, or where he was taking you. All you could do now was hope this was just some nightmare and that you’d wake up soon.

    The idea that this was a dream was further cemented because you took a few steps and blinked then found yourself in some house. You certainly felt tired, as if you had walked a long way, and quite cold. Although you needed a moment to realize you weren’t alone. The guy from before was behind you, locking what you assumed was the front door, and six other boys were standing before you, staring at you wide-eyed with big smiles on their faces.

“I didn’t know you’d come home with a new pet!” One cheered. “What’s her name?”

“No idea, ask her.”

“What’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

    You slapped a hand over your mouth. You answered that calmly and without hesitation, as if you haven’t been magically kidnapped. They all laughed over your reaction.

“She’s cute.”

“And funny.”

“Where did you find her, Jeno?”

“She and some friends rented one of those cabins nearby.” Jeno said, the one who brought you. “I watched them throughout the day to see if any of them were interesting. There were a couple contenders, so I just did some singing at night and she’s the one that came out. She was my best pick too.”

“I call dibs.”

“You can’t just call dibs, Jaemin. She just got here.”

“Besides, she looks exhausted.” Another commented. “She should sleep, and we can start in the morning.”

“Agreed.”

    You had a million questions, but you couldn’t voice any of them. If you slept there you couldn’t imagine what the morning held. It was a dumb idea but you felt that running was your best option, so you did try to bolt for the door. Your actions were probably amusing to them since they let you actually unlock the door and get it open, but one of them slammed it shut.

“And where are you going?”

“I’m trying to leave, please let me leave.”

“And why would we do that?”

“Mark, just take her upstairs.”

“Fine.” Mark pulled you close. “Sleep.”

♦♦♦♦♦

    You snuggled against the sheets, glad to be waking up from such a weird dream. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, and once they focused you realized this wasn’t the cabin. You bolted up, finding yourself in a strange bed, with a strange man. You were about to get up when the other grabbed your arm.

“Stay.” You felt your body lock up. “Lay back down.”

    Your body listened to him with ease, getting back under the covers. He snuggled you, wrapping an arm around you.

“Let’s stay in bed for a little longer. Before the others come get you.” You whimpered. “Sh, don’t be scared, we’re not gonna hurt you.”

“Please let me go…”

“That’s no fun, I’m Renjun by the way. We’ll introduce everyone else at breakfast.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Sh, just relax, you’re gonna be so happy here.”

    There was a knock at the door and Renjun groaned, pulling the blanket over both your heads. You heard the door open and then someone yanked the blanket down. You instinctively hid, but it just came off as cute to them.

“Haechan…” Renjun groaned. “Go away.”

“It’s morning, she’s gotta get up, you can stay.”

“No…”

“Y/n, get up and come with me.”

“Stay.”

    You’d move one way and then stop, once again just a passenger in your own body.

“Renjun.”

“Fine. You can go.”

    Haechan took your hand and led you out of the room. You were still in your pajamas, and felt very exposed. He took you to another room and had you wait while he went into the closet. A moment later he came out with one of those sexy maid outfits and you choked on air.

“I’m sure it’ll fit nicely. Strip.”

    For the first time since you were around them you resisted. Your hands moved but you fought it. You very much so didn’t want to take off your clothes. This made Haechan chuckle.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone resist. Fascinating. I said strip, now.”

    This time fighting was impossible, something about the change in tone. You pulled down your shorts and slipped out of your shirt. You covered your breasts, using the lack of clarity from his words to keep yourself from taking off your panties.

“Cute, put on the maid outfit.”

    You dressed rather fast, not wanting to be exposed any longer. The outfit lived up to its name, and it’s certainly not something you’d ever wear. You were clothed, but still felt exposed.

“Perfect, let’s go.”

    You followed Haechan downstairs and into the kitchen. You immediately knew where this was going, and wished you could just yell them.

“Why don’t you make some breakfast? And no funny business, just… impress us, got it?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He ruffled your hair. “I look forward to it.”

    You couldn’t believe what was going on, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You began looking around, seeing fully stocked cupboards, and a full fridge. It was a bit of a relief, you weren’t a cook, but at least you knew that you had the ingredients to make anything. It was weird to have this sort of phantom motivation to cook, and to do well too. While finishing up you popped your head out of one of the doors, looking for the dining room. You figured you probably had to set the table too and did so. When one of the others came in you yelled and scurried back to the kitchen. You heard them laugh and then they followed you.

“Do you need any help?”

“I’m alright…”

“It smells good in here.”

“… thank you…”

“I’m Chenle by the way, nice to meet you.”

    You finished setting up and Chenle just took a seat at the table. You set down the breakfast plates, and as you did so one by one entered. They all expressed surprise and joy seeing what you had done. It was stupid to feel proud of yourself in the moment, you weren’t just cooking for strangers but for your captors.

“This looks good, well done.” Jaemin said. “Sit.”

    You took the only empty seat at the table. You didn’t get to wonder why there was an empty seat to begin with since everyone had their eyes on you.

“I know I said no funny business.” Haechan smiled. “But you did resist before, so why don’t you have a bite of everything first. Please.”

    There was no reason to be nervous, you figured you’d be eating what you made as well, and you were hungry. You grabbed a bit of everything and cleaned your plate. They watched you intently and seeing that nothing happened, happily dug into the food. They complimented you and seemed to approve of your skills. You ate cautiously, leaving them to their rather mundane conversations.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

    One of the boys stood and took your hand. Although Chenle quickly got up and followed you two out.

“Where are you going Jisung?”

“Tour, also wanna put a collar on her.”

“Weirdo.”

“You don’t have to come.”

“But I am.”

    Jisung wasn’t kidding about the collar, taking you upstairs to his room and finding a nice matching black collar to tighten around your throat.

“We can put your name on it later.”

    You were shown around the house. All the bedrooms were upstairs, and your room was all of them, you’d sleep with one of them every night. Of course the maid outfit wasn’t a joke either, they wanted you to clean up around the house and keep everything tidy, that is until you properly earn the title of pet. You didn’t like any of this, but you knew you had no say in the matter. You also weren’t listening, worried more about your friends and what they think happened to you.

“Ya! Are you hearing me?”

“Huh? Ah… yes…”

“Then what did I just say?” Jisung questioned. “Do you know?”

“Uh…”

“I told you to get on your knees and scrub the floors.”

“Oh… right, right…”

“If you’re gonna be stupid, just say it, I’ll make you real stupid right now.”

“Enough.” Haechan came over. “Don’t yell at her, she’s still new. She hasn’t learned to behave yet, probably worried about her old life. Isn’t that right?”

“…”

“You won’t see them again, so just move on, you have greater things awaiting you here.”

“I-”

“Come now. There’s something I wanted to do with you.”

    Haechan whisked you away before the other two could complain. You wound up in his bedroom again, seeing that your pajamas were still on the floor. You didn’t want to get back in that, feeling a bit more covered with the maid outfit, even if that wasn’t entirely accurate.

“At this point I’m sure there’s a big question on your mind, so ask.”

“I… what… what are you…”

“Indulge me first, what’s the rumor going around the camp these days?”

“That… that the woods are haunted… that voices will drive you insane and you’ll disappear.”

“Oh, that’s more accurate than the last.” Haechan pulled you close. “Our voices are very sweet, but very dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

“A siren’s song always lured sailors to their deaths, did it not?”

“Siren?”

“What else did you think we were sweetie? Ghosts?” He chuckled. “You should be very afraid dear. Jeno sang a little song to get one of you out of the cabin, but the day we really sing for you, is the day you truly become ours. For now, I’ll just make you mine the old fashion way.”

    Suddenly you were bent over a table, and when you looked up you saw your own reflection in the mirror. You swallowed nervously and tried to get up but Haechan pinned you down.

“Stay, and keep your eyes on the mirror.”

    He stood behind you, petting your head, his eyes locked on yours. He could see that you were nervous, and that a lot was running through your mind.

“Have you ever done it in front of a mirror?”

“No.”

“So it’ll be your first, right?”

“Yes.”

“Lovely. I’m glad we’ll have a special connection.”

    Haechan pushed your legs apart and pulled down your panties, exposing your core to the chilly air. You moved a bit, but certainly couldn’t get up to stop him. His hand was quickly rubbing your folds, causing you to bite your lip. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you.

“Aren’t you cute? Don’t hold back.”

    When his fingers started attacking your clit you let out a moan. It had been a while since anyone touched you down there. You figured maybe you’d get some on the camping trip, but never by some stranger. Haechan was taking great pleasure in seeing how you squirmed while also following his previous command of staying put. As much as he wanted to tease you, he also wanted to get up inside you, but he didn’t want to hurt you either. He danced the line there, being more aggressive in his movements and stuffing your eager pussy with two fingers. There was some initial discomfort but you quickly melted into the pleasure.

“Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes.”

“Has anyone ever made you feel this good?”

“No.”

“Another first then, you probably won’t go back.”

    When Haechan pulled his fingers away you whimpered, leaning a bit back, shaking your ass to get him to come back. He laughed, giving you a little smack. You heard him undoing his pants and then felt him grab your hips and pull you back. His erection rubbed between your ass cheeks and you could get a slight feeling as to how big he was.

“Think you can take all of me like a good girl?”

“I’ll try.”

“Very honest answer.”

    You didn’t get to wonder for too long as to how he’d feel as he was quick to start pushing his way inside you. He moved slow, letting you swallow him up an inch at a time. He wasn’t kidding when he said you wouldn’t go back. He hadn’t even started moving and you already felt so good. Of course he gave you no warning and started moving, thrusting into you hard. You gripped the table, having it move with you as Haechan rocked back and forth. You were mumbling nonsense, never having felt like this before.

    Every inch of you was on fire with desire, you wished you could touch the ground to steady yourself and get him at a better angle, but all you could do was take it. You swear your eyes were rolled into the back of your head, and the reflection of you getting fucked was mostly a blur. Haechan took great pleasure in everything, but most of all getting to watch you unravel beneath him. The others were gonna be pissed he did this first, and behind closed doors, but the temptation that was you was far too great.

“I’m gonna… gonna cum… fuck…”

“Yeah? Already? I might too if you keep squeezing me so nicely. It’s like you were made for my cock.”

“Please… faster…”

“What if I say no? Will you beg like a whore?”

“Ye… yes…”

“Maybe another time, so just scream my name.”

“Haechan!”

    Your knuckles went white as you shook with pleasure, taking him as deep as you could and riding the high. He was close too, but he held off to see you squirm, although the way you squeezed him nearly made him lose focus. While you were coming down he flipped you over so he could see your face all blissed out. He pulled out, chuckling as to how you cried for him, but he was satisfied with unloading on your chest and face. You were too out of it to fully be aware as to what had happened.

“I suppose you’re gonna need some new clothes, and a bath. Wait here and… just enjoy yourself.”

    A while after Haechan left you slipped off the table and onto the floor, too exhausted to move. You were certainly still too fucked out to notice when Haechan got you out of your clothes and into a bath. He dressed you in some more comfortable clothes afterwards, laying you in his bed.

“You can come back to yourself now, I’ve had my fun.”

    It took a moment for your eyes and mind to focus again. You scrambled away from Haechan and nearly fell out of bed. Your body was still a bit sore from your previous activities, but you felt clean and refreshed.

“I figured one of us would have clothes that fit you well, so you’re welcome.”

“You left the collar on…”

“Yeah, that’s very cute, and Jisung’s favorite.”

“Can I… can I go home now?”

Haechan rolled his eyes. “Did I not say to forget about your past? Do you want me to sing right now?”

“No!” You covered your ears. “Please don’t…”

    You had no idea what would really happen, but it frightened you nonetheless. He just laughed, telling you that he wouldn’t do such a thing just yet, which was only a reminder that you needed to figure out how to escape, and fast. As he reached for you the door swung open and Jaemin came in.

“You are in so much trouble!”

“What?”

“We all heard her screaming! We agreed not to touch her yet!”

“You’re just jealous it wasn’t you.”

“Shut up! Mark wants to see you, he’s gonna scold you so bad!”

“Ugh… whatever. You look after her, and she might still struggle on her feet.”

    Haechan giggled and scurried out the room. Jaemin didn’t care much for his words and merely grabbed you, dragging you out of the room with him. You did stumble a bit on your feet, but you weren’t going to complain. Although Jaemin was pretty harsh in his movements so when you got to the bottom of the stairs you tripped and fell. He caught you before you hit the ground and pulled you close.

“You need to be careful, I don’t wanna ruin that pretty face by accident.”

“So… sorry…”

“Hm, you must have had a lot of fun. Like never before?”

“You can say that…”

“How about a dance.”

    Jaemin took you into the main room, playing some slow music to dance to you with. He was being very kind and sweet, you didn’t know why, but you didn’t question it.

“I know this was random, but it’s been a while since I’ve danced like this with someone. The last one… a very bad pet indeed…”

“Oh… so you’re… you’re really…”

“Not human, yes, far too boring to be ordinary, but we don’t go around trying to take over the world. We prefer our little home, hidden from the world, more peaceful this way.”

“So the stories…”

“Are true, the details are just messed up. I assure you ghosts aren’t real.”

“So you guys… sing…”

“We haven’t done that in a long time, but even without singing our voice still holds a hypnotic power, makes it easy to get whatever we want.”

“All the missing people…”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not your concern.”

“I… stop it…”

“Oh, Haechan wasn’t kidding when he said you put up a fight, that’s rare. Now stop it and just listen to what you’re told.”

“…”

“Better, let’s just enjoy the dance.”

    You were helpless, even when they let you be yourself. All it took was one wrong move, one step out of place or one word slipping past your tongue and they’d say something to fix you. It was dumb to fight back, but you couldn’t help it at times, you knew this was wrong and you needed to escape. By now you knew you were another missing persons flyer, but that didn’t change your reality. The only real chance you had was in the morning, when no one was around to order you around. Thankfully none of them had ever told you not to run away, so you knew that was still on the table.

    When the time came, you knew you couldn’t hesitate. You carefully slipped out of Jisung’s grasp and slid off the bed, quietly getting out of the room. You made sure to watch your steps, not wanting to wake anyone up. Lucky you got down stairs with no problem, and managed to get out the front door. For the first time in days you could get some fresh air. Once you were off the front steps you ran, but you didn’t get far before crashing into something. You composed yourself and realized you had tripped over someone. Immediately you were helping them up, so relieved and amazed to have found someone so soon.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I thought-”

    Your words got caught in your throat when you got a good look at them. The first thing you noticed was the eyes, how empty they were. Then the clothes, and the shovel that was on the floor, they were dressed like a gardener. And then the worst detail of all, you vaguely recognized them as one of the many faces on the missing persons posters you had seen long ago. It was true that people went missing out in these woods, you were proof, but you never wanted to connect the dots on all the other people, then again, this isn’t what you would have imagined.

“Hello? Are you…”

    You didn’t get a response, instead the person smiled and picked up the shovel, getting back to their work. You wanted to stop them, say something else, but then you noticed another person, and another. It began to click. Those boys used you as a maid in the house, of course they didn’t maintain their big home themselves. Why would they when they had the means to easily find others to do it for them. You were horrified, and now more motivated to get out of here and find help, but stopping was your mistake.

“Isn’t it too early to be awake?”

    You turned around and screamed, meeting Chenle’s face. He had a cocky smile on his face, amused by you in so many ways. Before you could even think to run he stopped you.

“Stay… and tell me what you’re doing out here?”

“Trying to escape.”

“Oh, very bad girl. You’ve been doing so well.” He stepped towards you. “What are we gonna do about this? The others won’t be happy when they wake up.”

“I… I won’t-”

“Do it again? I know, I just have to say it and make it true… but… I think maybe it’s time you heard us sing.”

“No! No, please, I-”

“Sh… be quiet, the others are still sleeping. We’ll talk about this over breakfast, okay, now let’s go back inside.”

    Chenle took your hand and led you back to the house. You blew it, you knew you blew your only chance of escape. You looked back at the trees with regret, wishing you hadn’t been so stupid. As you climbed up the steps you got scared, physically shaking.

“Don’t be scared, we’re not gonna hurt you. You’ve been such a good girl so far, I think it’s only fair we treat you better. So don’t worry, you’ll be just fine, better than ever I’d say, without a care in the world. Well, except for us, you’ll care about us, and we’ll care about you.”

    Stepping back into that house was the end for you. There was no going back, no more escape attempts. Whatever they had planned, you were helpless to resist, and they were surely going to enjoy every moment of your surrender.

(II)

[archer3-13]

Been playing fire emblem echoes: shadows of valentia again in the last few days. on ocassion i go back to em and see how my opinion might reevaluate on old fe games, but heres some general thoughts:

-as this is for enjoyment im playing on normal which is basically just 'nes balance' mode since its the most overarchingly similar to the original nes game.

-on a pretty sharp if casual blitz i can manage to get to and beat grieth and desiaxs fortresses quickly enough. of the two of them celicas side of the map definitely has the uphill battle to contend with throwing more enemies, more promoted enemies, and more importantly more fast enemies at you then alms side which favours defensive enemies.

-it makes some general sense as celicas side gives you a lot more mages then alms side to use but a larger pattern of echoes design philosophy is 'fewer enemies, but much tougher enemies'. and i stand by that statement even with acknowledging cantors and other enemy summoners, because the enemies those units summon are intentionally chaff fodder compared to the main map crops.

-in terms of grinding i really cant stress enough how bad an idea it is to grind every tier out to lvl20 unless you have an efficient grinding system in mind. the games systems actively work against ya going in that direction, and i dont mind that meself cause im very much an all or nothing type on that kinda stuff so the game slapping my wrist on that is more my speed. that said, i think a median can work pretty well, grindin out or atleast holding out until units reach atleast lvl10 for promotions

-next run ill pay more attention to the story, but with a fresh head/perspective on things the snippets i have been watchin again this time do make me realize that a lot of what people attribute to a misfired thematic thread of 'the station of your birth dont matter', more so has to do with narrative tensions and themes of alm and celica being reluctant or hesitant to actually grapple with their destinies/responsibilities. most of the flavour text of village npc commentary on the happening of things for instance reads more so in the light of emphasizing that to me anyways on recent reflection, village people complaining about how worthless the zofian royal family is to celicas face before praising her unaware of the irony, and the teasing of alms secret rigelian heritage fits into that framework a lot more snugly. and as i noted, theres a distinct reluctance on alm and celicas parts when it comes to facing their fates, celicas trip to see mila noted as being a possible way to avoid making a claim to the zofian throne that people probably wouldn't be happy to see and that celica doesn't want to make. and conversely on alms part well he takes on the mantle of leadership in war theres not much thought on his part put into what comes after kicking rigels teeth in, almost a reluctance to do so even evident in how he shys away from the indications of his royal heritage and downplays the peoples desires for him to become the new zofian king/ruler.

-thats just my current wild thoughts on the matter though, but i do think its a better throughline that makes more sense, especially given how often its alluded to in dialogue with characters such as grieth rubbing it in celicas face that he managed to get so powerful under the royal families noses because the royal family gave less then a shit about doing anything about it, similarly as to how desaix could be the most fragrantly evil/self interested piece of shit around without any repercussions.

-love grieths voice acting, i think the VA also does the voice of the brewer gundam pilot in ibos english dub and hes a joy to listen to. plus grieths just kinda fun with his weird lil henchman in general, really reminds me of a hokuto no ken villain.

[birdship]

(DISCO ELYSIUM SPOILERS)

Wrote this... thing? to sort of explore potentially writing an actual bit of fanfic for Disco Elysium. It's just a short scene set during the time Harry's drifting in and out of consciousness and Kim is taking care of him.

Anyway, here. Self-indulgent gay longing bullshit, but maybe someone else out there will enjoy it?

Very short teaser, since the whole thing is only like 1600 words:

PERCEPTION: The pressure intensifies slightly, and you recognize it is in the shape of a human hand. YOU: Her hand…? PERCEPTION: No. Not hers. VOLITION: Never hers. LOGIC: His, genius. ESPRIT DE CORPS: It’s Kim. Of course it is. You knew it from the moment you saw him, somehow, that this man would take a bullet for you. He almost did. But right now, he’s kneeling beside you, tending to your wound. Gently, so gently reaching into the war zone of your body to peel back the old bandages, soaked in blood and pus, and press clean ones down in their place.

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN: Well, well! Look what the cat dragged in. You keep slipping away, Harry-boy. Back into that beautiful, dark sea. Where you came from. Where you belong. Even now it presses around you, pale and cold. You’re struggling so hard to keep your head above the water for these precious few seconds of aching consciousness. It would be easier to just… relax.

YOU: Hold on, what was that about a cat?

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN: There is no cat, you stupid fuck. Pay attention when I’m waxing poetic about the sweet embrace of death.

It’s hard to pay attention. Then again, it’s hard to do anything. Your breathing is shallow and ragged and you’re so, so tired. God are you tired.

PERCEPTION: You become gradually aware that there is a light pressure on your hip. PAIN THRESHOLD: The first small jolt of pain ripples through you, branching like lightning. PERCEPTION: The pressure intensifies slightly, and you recognize it is in the shape of a human hand.

YOU: Her hand…?

PERCEPTION: No. Not hers. VOLITION: Never hers. LOGIC: His, genius. ESPRIT DE CORPS: It’s Kim. Of course it is. You knew it from the moment you saw him, somehow, that this man would take a bullet for you. He almost did. But right now, he’s kneeling beside you, tending to your wound. Gently, so gently reaching into the war zone of your body to peel back the old bandages, soaked in blood and pus, and press clean ones down in their place.

YOU: His hand…

ELECTROCHEMISTRY: It’s warm, electric, somehow both familiar and new all at once. You ache to lean into it and ask for more, more. How long has it been since anyone touched you like this? INLAND EMPIRE: Has anyone ever touched you like this, really? Right down to the core of you? Feeling the wreckage of you, the sharp edges of your heart? Running their fingers so lightly along the cracks of your horrible little brain? ELECTROCHEMISTRY: I meant literally. His hand is on your thigh. PAIN THRESHOLD: Because there’s a fucking gunshot wound there. LOGIC: Come on, don’t make it weird. ELECTROCHEMISTRY: I���m not making it weird. VOLITION: You’re definitely making it weird. ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Look, all I’m saying is it feels pretty nice, doesn’t it? Being close to him like this. His hands on your body.

YOU: Yeah. It does.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: In the haze of painkillers and recent trauma, your sight becomes clear. Ironic. You’re finally allowing yourself to see something that’s been quietly blossoming inside you over the years. It’s been so hard to ignore, but the alternative is so much worse. You couldn’t look right at it. Didn’t want to. Didn’t think you deserved to. But now, in this moment, lying on a lumpy mattress in the dark, trying not to lose consciousness yet again, with him pressing his hands to your rotting body, desperately staunching the bleeding that never seems to completely stop… Now the world has finally wrung everything out of you. Whatever it was that you had left. And you can do nothing but take the path of least resistance. HALF-LIGHT: You’re keenly aware that you will soon make an absolute goddamn fool of yourself, but are powerless to stop it. The forces are already in motion. PAIN THRESHOLD: Another lightning bolt of pain, worse this time. Agony. You cannot help but gurgle a quiet “fuck.”

The lieutenant glances up at your face with calm concern, thoroughly unsurprised by your outburst. “I know it hurts,” he breathes. “You’ll get through it.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, only half-processing his words.

PERCEPTION: His hand lingers ever so slightly, then suddenly it’s gone. The warm, comforting pressure of his company, gone. SUGGESTION: No! You’re going to be alone again! He needs to stay. You need him to be here. Next to you. For as long as possible.

You concentrate every ounce of willpower you have left on sending your right hand out to fish desperately for his before it’s gone.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION: Your hand slaps awkwardly against the sleeve of his jacket. You can’t quite get a grip on it, but your pathetic flailing is hard to ignore, and he stops to give you a quizzical look. VISUAL CALCULUS: That’s the best we could do. I don’t know what you expected from us. Your eyes are still closed.

“Detective?” he says to you. “Just relax. You’re going to be fine, but you need to get some rest.”

“Wait,” you mumble, “please stay.”

DRAMA: This is quite the sad display you’re putting on here, sire. It’s a crowded field, but this new late entry is a strong contender for the gold in the hotly contested “most uncomfortable moment” event at the Sad Old Sack of Shit Olympics.

VOLITION: Come on, you’re stronger than this. HALF-LIGHT: Don’t drag him down with you, you irrepressible fuck-up. What are you even trying to do? INLAND EMPIRE: He’s drowning. Desperate. Reaching for something, anything, to stay afloat. COMPOSURE: It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Not anymore. There’s nothing to hold onto. SUGGESTION: Wrong. You have exactly one thing to hold onto right now, and that thing is Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi’s fucking hand.

Kim looks at you with a sort of detached concern for a moment, then gives you a small smile and sits back down next to you without another word. There’s nothing to say, and that’s fine.

EMPATHY: He looks exhausted. His eyes are ringed by dark circles and his shoulders have begun to sag with the weight of the case. The weight of death. The weight of you. He’s carrying so much. ESPRIT DE CORPS: He doesn’t want recognition or pity for it. He knows you’re bearing the same load. Don’t you dare apologize for any of it - this weight is shared. You’re in it together. SUGGESTION: Then why do you feel so guilty, watching him stare silently out the window into the impenetrable night, looking at nothing? You have to say something. Acknowledge his efforts to keep your sorry flesh sack shambling forward another day. VOLITION: No, stop. This is a bad idea. You don’t have to be the sorry cop anymore. In fact, please actively try to stop being that.

“Kim,” you say weakly.

“Yes?” he says, his gaze snapping back to you immediately.

“Thanks.”

“No need for that,” he says quickly.

VOLITION: Grateful cop, huh. Well, I guess that’s a step up. Very slightly less pitiful.

“Yeah,” you mumble, “alright. Sorry.”

VOLITION: Goddammit.

Kim doesn’t say anything. Just watches you with tired, searching eyes.

PERCEPTION: He’s sitting on the very edge of the bed, far away from you, his limbs tucked close to his body except for one hand, which rests lightly on the blanket. VISUAL CALCULUS: It’s still close enough that you could reach out and touch it without too much effort. ELECTROCHEMISTRY: Get that sweet dopamine hit, baby! Human contact, the most dangerous drug!

Your fingers brush his hand. He jerks it away immediately, but it seems like an unconscious, automatic reaction.

“Ah,” he says, scooting over a bit. “I’ll give you some space.”

VOLITION: If your goal was to feel like a complete idiot in front of the one person in this shithole that you respect, well, pat yourself on the back. DRAMA: Congratulations, sire, you’ve done it! And what hill might thou plan to die on next? VOLITION: A much steeper one, hopefully. SUGGESTION: Ignore them, try again! PERCEPTION: Finally, your fingers manage to close around his wrist. You can’t see his reaction. Your eyes are closed. You can’t stand to look at the situation you’ve created. VOLITION: Coward. PERCEPTION: His hand is moving, changing position, but not withdrawing. It simply contorts in such a way that your grip relaxes and now it’s his hand that’s resting on top of yours. He is silent, but he’s there. Not moving away. You smell stale cigarette smoke and dry blood lingering in the space between his body and yours. ELECTROCHEMISTRY: It’s too much. This hit, it’s stronger than you expected. It’s fucking devastating, a cold knife twisting its way through your broken body. It hurts. Why does it hurt? EMPATHY: Your eyes are still closed, but you sense that he too is looking elsewhere, similarly unable to look directly at the source of the overwhelming awkward - and quite frankly rather homo-sexual - energy you have brought down upon the room. CONCEPTUALIZATION: Every other human interaction happening inside the Whirling-in-Rags must be going very smoothly right now, because you’ve created a fucking singularity of awkwardness. There’s no more awkwardness left within a 2km radius, you’ve gathered it all right here.

Then, as quickly as the moment began, it’s over. He moves his hand and clears his throat. Probably cleans his glasses. It’s a nervous habit of his that you’ve noticed this past week.

A few minutes pass in silence. Then: “Harry?” he whispers quietly.

You don’t answer. You have nothing to say.

CONCEPTUALIZATION: Maybe you were wrong. Maybe this is the harder option. Maybe you’re not ready to look at it. Maybe you’re not ready to look at anything.

“Get some rest,” he says softly. “I need to get back to work.”

EMPATHY: He’s not going to mention this incident. Not now. Not later. Not ever. Not just out of concern for you, but himself. He has no idea how to begin to process it, so he won’t. He’ll tell himself it doesn’t matter, you were just lost in a cloud of drouamine and pain and grief. That you were so out of it that you thought you were reaching for someone else. That vulnerable moment of tenderness could not have been meant for him. But you know the truth. And maybe he does too, somewhere deep down. LOGIC: You are okay with this. You have to be. And so does he. CONCEPTUALIZATION: You’ve glimpsed it now, that radiant thing within you. That bright, unbearable light. It’s so beautiful, so heart-breaking that you can hardly stand it. Maybe a glimpse is enough.

[justcourttee]

I love your sibling Jasonette so much!! If you don't mind, could you do Marinette's first meeting with the rest of the Batfam? Also, this is probably a stupid question but are the rest of the sibling Jasonette stories connected?

Not a stupid question at all! I wrote them so that if you read all of them, there are parallels so that they could be connected, but if people didn’t want to read all of them, they could also stand on their own :)

I also NEVER mind writing more sibling Jasonette ;) Hope you enjoy! @moonlitjiminie 

Family Game Night

“What if they don’t like me?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Is that even a real question that you’re asking me? I’m honestly offended right now that you would even think they had an option to not like you.”

He dramatically placed his hand over his heart as if her words had fatally wounded him earning a small giggle from the girl. Slinging his arm over her shoulder, she managed to breathe a small sigh of relief as they made their way up the long staircase.

Jason didn’t even bother knocking as he threw open the manor doors, effectively dragging her in with him.

“Master Jason, what a pleasure to see you attend family game night and with a guest in tow, how lovely.”

An older man stood in the foyer, his sly smile warming Marinette to the core instantly. Jason narrowed his eyes playfully at the man, a sly smile of his own tugging at his lips.

“Marinette, let me introduce you to the only sane person in this household. Mr. Alfred Pennyworth. He likes to pretend he’s just a humble butler, but we all know that he secretly runs the whole thing around here.”

Alfred bowed deeply to Marinette to which she could only curtsey in return.

“It’s a pleasure, sir. I am sorry for invading your family time. I was under the impression that my presence was a known factor tonight.” Her narrowed eyes shot to Jason who simply shrugged, his smirk as arrogant as ever.

“Nonsense, a friend of Master Jason is a friend to all. You are by far the most pleasant friend he has brought to this event.”

Marinette almost wanted to ask about the context of his remark, but something in her gut told her she really didn’t want to know.

“Please, follow me to the sitting room. The rest of the family has already arrived.”

They walked in a comfortable silence down the hall, Marinette nerves slightly frayed now knowing that nobody expected her appearance. Alfred pushed open two oak doors, revealing a brightly lit room filled with many laughing faces. When Jason said he had a lot of siblings, Marinette thought two or three. Nothing could have prepared her for this.

“Oh my god, Jason brought home a girl!”

Instantly all sounds in the room paused as many heads turned their attention to where Marinette stood in the doorway. Hesitantly, she raised her hand in greeting, a sheepish smile gracing her face.

“Everyone, this is Marinette, the legendary designer MDC, and my sister. She’s flown all the way from Paris to meet you losers for some reason so be nice.”

Marinette mumbled a quiet hello as a few smiles broke through the room welcoming her. Instantly, a blonde girl jumped up to drag her back to where she was previously sitting, ignoring Jason’s protests.

“You just have to play on my team tonight! Are you any good at Pictionary? I mean I’m not great, but I can say with utmost confidence that I can beat most of the people in this room.”

“That’s not true!” Marinette’s attention was split as one of the men started an argument with her as to who was the better pictionary-ist. She didn’t even notice when Jason had sat beside her, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“The rude blonde is Stephanie Brown. She’s Timmy boys girlfriend, who would be the dead zombie looking kid over there.”

Marinette’s gaze followed to where Jason pointed, a small giggle escaping at his accurate description. The poor boy looked like he hasn’t gotten a good night's sleep a single day in his life. 

“The rude boy arguing with Stephanie would be Dick. He practically rivals your optimism except his happy go lucky actually disgusts me.”

The man paused from his argument, a horrified expression on his face.

“I like to think my optimism is a blessing.”

That earned a collective groan from the room to which he simply crossed his arms into a pout.

“Anyways, continuing, the redhead is Barbara Gordon-Grayson who unfortunately has trapped herself in the position of Dick’s wife. A tragedy really for such a beautiful woman, I mean she could’ve had me and instead she chose him? The world just isn’t right.”

Another protest came from Dick’s direction as he turned his pout into Barbara’s outstretched arms as her attempt to not laugh failed miserably.

“The one staring you down while trying to pretend he’s not interested at the same time would be your future husband Damian.”

Marinette felt her entire face flush red as she reached back slapping Jason in the stomach as hard as he could.

“Todd, I do not appreciate harassing this young woman. You are beneath her in status and beauty therefore you should not be allowed to get off with this insult to her self so easily.”

Damian stood from his spot, careful not to make eye contact with Marinette as he sped past her toward the room’s only exit. She wanted to call out and ask him to stay, but the pink on his cheeks caused her to pause. He probably was just as embarrassed as her and just needed some time to breathe.

“Jason, that was mean! Look at how flustered you made him!”

Jason simply laughed as he reached over to ruffle her hair.

“Trust me, he never gets ‘flustered’ that was all you.”

For the second time that night, Marinette felt her face flush.

“He’s right you know!” Her eyes turned back to the blonde from earlier who stared her down with a playful expression in her eyes. “Demon spawn definitely has a crush on you.”

The rest of the family took turns picking at her, taking jabs until she was sure there wasn’t one part of her that wasn’t bloodshot red.

“Alright, alright, give the girl some space. We want her to return eventually!”

Marinette smiled gratefully toward the dark-haired man.

“After all, I need to get to know my future daughter-in-law.”

She instantly regretted her friendly gesture as the room exploded once more, smiles and laughter filling the room. Why exactly had she let Jason talk her into this?

“Okay, okay, really though guys. It’s game night! Time to pick team captains.”

Stephanie’s devilish smile sent shivers through Marinette’s spine. It was purely chaotic, reminding her of another blonde that she had left behind.

“I vote Marinette and Jason, the ultimate sibling showdown!” Dick puffed out his chest as his voice mimicked what sounded suspiciously like a wrestling ref that her father loved to watch.

“I’m down, how about you princess?”

Marinette bit her lip as her eyes glanced around the room at their waiting faces. Her eyes caught sight of one brooding face that she couldn’t seem to pass by. He also seemed to be waiting, his eyes nervously glancing from her position to the door as if he might bolt at any moment.

“It’s game on Todd.”

They shook their hands defiantly, both wearing dangerous smirks. Maybe she could salvage her pride tonight; not just hers’ but Damian’s as well. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Ladies first.”

Marinette and Jason stood on opposite sides of the room, both watching each other with an intense look that came from their competitive natures. She scanned the eager faces of his family thoughtfully. She had no idea what any of them were good at, but she wanted to maintain appearance for the psych of it.

“Damian.”

Everybody broke out into smirks as they shared knowing looks. She didn’t bother to pay them any mind as the pink-cheeked boy rose to stand with her.

“Wrong move princess, demon spawn hates game night more than he likes to win. My first choice? Stephanie.”

The girl pumped her fist in the air as she joined Jason on his side. Marinette leaned toward where Damian stood, hiding half her face behind her hand.

“Time to strategize, who is my best bet?”

Damian stared at her with a bewildered expression.

“C’mon beau garçon, I need your help if we’re gonna kick Jason’s ass.”

He nodded slowly as if that were a perfectly reasonable excuse to kick into gear.

“Grayson is the leading contender if you wish to win tonight.”

Marinette nodded as she motioned for Dick to join them as well. Jason raised an eyebrow at her as he called over Tim, challenging her to pick from the remaining two.

“Okay Damian, Barbara or Bruce.”

He didn't bother responding as he pointed at his father, leaving the redhead to Jason’s team.

It was five hours of intense games, Alfred keeping score as an unaffiliated third party,( after all, they had all agreed that he was the fairest way to keep the games moving.) They all sat in anticipation while he tallied the scores. She couldn’t seem to calm her nerves as she stared at Jason’s cocky smirk.

Marinette felt a warmth brush by her kneecap. Instantly her head snapped to where a hand rested before her gaze reached back up to his face, a light red dusting across her cheeks. Immediately his hand retracted.

“I’m sorry if that was inappropriate, your knee was just bouncing anxiously from the corner of my eye and it was a slight bother.”

Marinette muttered out a small sorry before they both broke their gaze, the blush evident on both of their cheeks.

“And with a final score of 5-4, the winning team is… Miss Marinette!”

Her whole team jumped from the couch in excitement. Without thinking, she threw her arms around Damian’s neck. Realization crossed her face as she quickly retracted her hug, her entire face as red as could be. God, she hadn’t been this much of a blushing mess since she was thirteen.

They all chatted idly for a few minutes before Jason finally intercepted, insisting he had to get her back to her apartment before it got too late. The whole family waved her goodbye, minus one red-faced teen who instead handed her a small piece of paper as discreetly as he could, ignoring the taunts from his family behind his back.

As they drove back to her apartment, Marinette couldn’t hold her excitement anymore.

“I don’t know why you were warning me so much, I think I’m in love with your family Jason.”

His familiar smirk sat on his face as he turned into the apartment’s lot.

“I told you they were going to love you, and what do you know? I didn’t even have to give Damian your number, you two worked it out on your own. I truly believe they are planning out your wedding right now.”

Marinette shook her head as she reached over the console to hug Jason tightly before stepping out of the car. She wanted to deny accusations of what happened tonight, but she knew it would just fuel his picking.

Besides, even she couldn’t deny that she was excited for the next family game night and if she saw a certain Wayne there, well, that really wouldn’t be so bad.

Permanent Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Dick Grayson received condolences wherever he went. Recently, people in ‘Haven and on the force about everything he lost during the Blockbuster debacle (and he lost a lot.) Press and the public turning their faces down in a mask of sorrow after Jason, telling him it must have been so hard for him to lose a brother. And before that, when he first came to live with Bruce, every socialite looking at him through diamond-studded fingers wrapped around a bubbly champagne glass, telling him how sorry they were he lost his parents, how difficult it must have been to see them fall, how much he misses his family.

For once, they were right. Even after all these years, Dick missed his family more than anything. Dya and Dat were his parents, of course he missed them. But other than Bruce, the elite of Gotham had a rigid definition of family, and it would take far too much energy for Dick to explain to them why they were wrong.

Haleé was an old man, gruff in the way most people like him were. He was the patriarch of their cobbled-together family, someone who built up his life’s dream with nothing but a couple euros, the calluses on his hands, an old performer’s cane, and a recipe for chili that his Cajun mother had given him. He clasped everyone on the shoulder and taught Dick how to captivate an audience with a couple gestures. And every time Bruce looked up at him, concealed pride in his eyes but a mouth barking at him to try again, to do better this time, Dick took a deep breath and reminded himself that Haleé had left with the circus.

Georges the Strongman was one of the few Frenchmen Dick had ever met, but he was under the impression they weren’t supposed to be so...large. Dya had scolded him disapprovingly, and told him that was rude. Dat had snorted and agreed with him. Then again, Dya was Rom and had been to France before, while Dat grew up in Turkmenistan and his first trip to Europe had been with the troupe, so Dya was probably right. Either way, Georges’ muscles were larger than Dick’s head and he used them to sweep Dick up in hugs. He could do handstands on Georges’ shoulders, and his deep, rumbling chuckles were a staple of  Circ d’Haleé, often accompanied by Dick’s own breathless laughter. (The few times Dick managed to get Jason to actually laugh, he had to blink back memories. And whenever he used Jason’s shoulders as a springboard, both in the field and for fun, those same breathless giggles came out when he heard Jason’s indignant sputters and curses.)

Befrî and Cemre were the most talented acrobats and contortionists Dick had ever met. The main reason Dick himself was so flexible was the routines they had taught him, practicing them early in the morning with a couple other members of the circus.  Befrî and Cemre were from Buraydah, and though they told absolutely grand stories to Dick all the time, they refused to go back. Their bodies were lean and quick and clever, their minds even more so. Sly comments and remarks had Dick bursting out in peals of laughter, their determination and dedication to their art pushing Dick to do the same. (Even though he often reminded everyone he wasn’t a contortionist, it was always worth it to see his friends’ faces when he pulled his limbs into a position more than a touch unnatural.) Dick often caught Befrî in Tim’s clever little smirk, and Cemre’s eyes were narrowed in determination as he worked on a case. Then Dick blinked, and Tim was just Tim again.

Guillermina was just a teenager, but she could swallow fire. Dick remembered the night he met her. A stowaway from Mexico, she stumbled around Egypt, lost in a foreign land, before coming across Circ d’Haleé. Haleé had said, in that gruff manner of his, their troop was closed for the night and would not be accepting questions or paparazzo. In response, Guillermina stuck flames down her throat and juggled broken beer bottles she found on the floor, then begged in a hoarse voice, if she couldn’t stay could she at least have a meal. Haleé had stared at her, then asked if she went by Guillermina or Mina. She said neither, she went by Yiye, and after eavesdropping on the conversation, Dick had run up to give her a hug. Yiye was bold and reckless and utterly unafraid of the world, and Dick adored her. She taught Dick to juggle and she taught Dick to ride a unicycle and she taught Dick to throw his entire body and passion into everything he did. Whenever Dick found himself about to scold Damian for his daredevil, he caught sight of Yiye’s fire in his eyes, and found himself getting strung along.

There was a fortune teller in Circ d’Haleé. She went by Tsetvanya, except when she went by Apolonia, expect when she went by Mieczysław. (Isn’t Mieczysław a boy’s name? Dick had asked. She had laughed and said yes, yes it was.) She was Polish, except when she said she was swore up and down she was born and raised in Andorra, except when she said lightly she had always traveled and had long since had her roots ripped out. (An American had once asked if that made her a gypsy. He had meant it as some sort of backwards compliment. No one else even had to intervene because she had slapped him hard enough for her rings to cut into his face and make him bleed. Dya pulled the man away and explained, sternly, how rude that was. Dick doubts the man ever visited the Middle East again.) Whoever the fortune teller was, no matter what lies dripped from her lips, she still found the time to show Dick her hand-painted Tarot cards, to tell him stories, to warn him of the world’s dangers everyone else shielded him from. Her bones were brittle and her makeup was extravagant and her hugs were bony and every time someone brought up Alfred’s vast knowledge of the life and fierce protectiveness and general worldliness, Dick smiled to himself and thought, I think Alfred may have a contender.

Emilie the Lion tamer could read Dick as well as Cass and Raymond may have just worked behind the scenes but his homemade meals made everyone gather together just like Steph making breakfast and Tanuja’s kindness towards the troop and mischievousness towards the crowds was so much like Duke that it hurt. Dick had warred with himself over using Bruce’s and the League’s resources to find them, track them, check if they were okay, see if they remembered him. He always backed down.

They say after you lose someone, you can see signs of them everywhere you go, in the people you meet. Dick was constantly surrounded by his family, both versions of them, and the juxtaposition made him laugh, made him cry, made him miss Circ d’Haleé like a physical ache, made him beyond relieved he wasn’t with them anymore. 

Because that night, Dick didn’t just lose his Dya and Dat, didn’t just loose his parents. He lost his entire family.

*bangs pots and pans together* IF YOU’RE GONNA WRITE ROM DICK GRAYSON FUCKING DO IT RIGHT. or, not really Rom, just not classically American in general. anyway, i bet you could guess how i had no idea how to end this thing. but here it is. tag list: @comicsandhoney @birdy-bat-writes @yesboopityboop @dangerduckjpeg @anothertimdrakestan @thebatsandbirdsofgotham @astroherogirl @subtleappreciation

[polythremed]

wheres the essay op i want whitsun bugs

there might not have been an essay before, but there is now! bugs and inverts are hugely overlooked. however, the victorians loved insects! they were huge inspirations in art, shells were used in fashion, so what would be more vogue than a giant bug for a pet?

(Punch, September 29, 1877)

the bulk of this talk will be under the cut but tl;dr is that arachnids still offer a lot of potential, beetles and moths live in the neath and were popular at the time, and there are a lot of lesser-known bugs that fit fallen london

also cw for bug images because there’s a lot of them beyond here, this is for people with good taste only

firstly: arachnids

FL has a lot of arachnids and this year’s whitsun saw the introduction of a squirrel with a scorpion tail! i think it’s a fun design personally, but arachnid companions are Not obsolete. the most relevant arachnids are crabs, and crabs are more varied than you might think!

(image by abc.net.au)

the yeti crab was the first crab to come to mind, related to hermit crabs and living in hydrothermal vents in the deep ocean. it means we’ve got another underground beast, and could you imagine this as a spired crab? it could be the product of shapeling arts, and the yeti crab’s famously hairy arms have the potential to be used as arm warmers or 1890s uggs for the discerning londoner!

there’s also the japanese giant spider crab, which might be more lanky than it’s neathy angler crab cousins, but look at those legs! how big do you think it is? how about taller than the average person?

you have to understand how badly i want to be this man they also inhabit vents near the bottom of the ocean (the crabs, not this man), they’re omnivores and one specimen’s measured in at 3.8 metres (12ft) across its outstretched legs! it’d probably be a dreaded companion by the sheer size of it, but imagine the walking sticks you could get from those legs

arrowhead crabs and horseshoe crabs are also runners up for this!

mites also came to mind, being small arachnids- the mite above is an adult female tea mite, and not much is known about mites! they’re primitive but have a terrible reputation, and FBG have shone the spotlight on other unloved creatures in the past. there’s also Caveat Emptor which tells us that the bazaar has parasites which are probably like mites? you could have your own romance vampire, surely nothing could go wrong

and if you’ve come here for spiders, how about the pelican spider? with a pelican-like head, pelican spiders prey exclusively on other spiders! isn’t that a fun way to counter sorrow spider infestations? introducing new species is a good thing, right?

higher tiers of this companion could start to own the whole pelican thing. i’ve seen monster designs of spiders with human heads but never a spider with a pelican head!

(image by me)

all he needs is some love and spiders

close arachnid contenders that i want to mention before this whole post is made up of eight-legged companions: camel spiders, harvestmen, and whip scorpions!

secondly: beetles

as john b. s. haldane once said, “god has an inordinate fondness for beetles”. and he’s right because there are more known species of beetle than types of mammal

in fact, the victorians fucking loved beetles (and butterflies but we’ll get to that)

we have phosphorescent scarabs as luminosity items and a few mentions of beetles in airs texts and in sunless sea, the latter where a beetle has been eating through your ship’s supplies. being from england, i have a vague idea of what sort of beetles would end up in london!

there are still stag beetles, rove beetles, and even cardinal beetles, but these by themselves might feel pretty basic. they’d be good t1 companions, but why not have a companion that’s a whole insect keeping setup? there’s even some colourful beauties like the scarlet malachite beetle which are now incredibly endangered

but if you want something Huge and Large and easily convertible into a fashion accessory, hercules beetles have a lot of potential! horns that can be used for knives in dockside brawls, or you could take most of the bug features and place them on a furry animal like a guinea pig since seas already gave us the guinea page

these beetles could also add diversity for the phosphorescent scarabs- and speaking of phosphorescent beetles, why not look to fireflies? they aren’t fire and nor are they flies, but to carry on with FBG’s habit of “slapping animals together to see what happens”, you could easily make something with the features of a firefly larvae

or you could take the even more interesting approach of having a grub the size of a cat, for example. hercules beetles have some of the largest larvae and the feast of the rose gave us maggots, so why not have one of these babies but the size of a cat? and glowing? they’re a possible light source that might make you more bizarre or respectable

a close runner up that i wanted to mention was diving beetles and how freaky they can get if they’ve adapted to the zee but the sabretooth longhorn beetle is going to close this segment as an embodiment of a dangerous and respectable companion- it already looks like it’s been carved out of wood! i think a carved polythreme beetle would be incredible

(see also: bombardier beetles, weevils, oil beetles, tiger beetles, harlequin beetles, trilobite beetles, and giraffe weevils!)

moths, and less commonly found underground, butterflies

another love of the victorians: butterflies!

butterflies are basically moths by a different name (there are way more moths than butterflies) and we do have canon dreams where a frostmoth the size of your head appears in your window, and wouldn’t that be useful for hunting in parabola? much like the beetles, there’s a lot of diversity that can be explored especially if we add shapeling arts

white plume moths are also found in the UK and just look at those wings

we can have a usual approach of adding the wings to something else, like a particularly unlucky bat, or just have something bizarre with the moth itself! more eyes? more eyes has been a common theme lately, or you can combine an insect with an arachnid and give it whip scorpion hands

these wings would be one hell of a decoration because white plume moths are considered to be micromoths

on the other end of the spectrum and taking the role of a respectable companion, the white witch moth is considered to be one of the largest insects on earth because of its wingspan! maybe they’re a more risky cousin of the frostmoth, maybe you could turn the markings on these wings into shifting sigils? don’t set your moths on fire

(image by Acrocynus)

white witch moths themselves have a lot of diversity while cup moths are another contender for an animal you could combine with another animal

(image by itchydogimages)

why not add the tail of a squirrel to this one? or a scorpion’s tail? a lion? with enough of these, you could end up with a very striking tawny coat. this thing is the embodiment of being neathproofed. even if they’re opposites of frostmoths and are associated with embers because of it, or if the tail is closer to being a candle!

moths are also good at mimicking in order to defend themselves, which is why you see so many moths and butterflies with eye patterns on their wings. birds hate eyes so much so there’s room for some real eyes on your brand new butterfly or moth companion

but some moths also mimic snakes, so for any fingerking fans out there: behold the atlas moth

this is such a mithridacy companion. can you imagine the t3 version of this where the snake heads are alive? we have a two-headed terror bird, so why not snakes on a moth? there’s even jokes to be made about one head telling truths and another telling lies, maybe the only head that could tell you the difference is the moths!

for butterflies themselves, we have butterflies that drink the tears of alligators and tortoises- so melancholy butterflies that only appear to feed on lacre? (and they might not be butterflies down here, you might’ve already mistaken a day-flying moth for a butterfly, not that the difference matters for much in the neath)

another strong mention is vampire moths if we’re carrying on the theme of insects drinking odd things, but a vampire moth with bat wings could be wonderful at ruining the lives of taxonomists

luna moths are also massive and could be more fitting now that we know who the creditor is, and that whitsun is talking so much about the bazaar and the masters

other lesser-known but interesting insects

we don’t entirely need to cover bees and wasps but it would be nice to have a piece of media showing wasps in a way that doesn’t present them as evil, but wasps could wait until hell is really significant again since wasps and bees are incredibly cool cousins. and thread waisted wasps!

(image by Bev Wigney)

get a load of that! these don’t even have the ability to sting humans, what would a thread waisted wasp-themed spindlewolf look like? how much shadowy with something with these colours give you? imagine the corsets inspired by these things

assassin bugs are another dangerous option considering how good they are at hunting other insects, and the neath wouldn’t be complete without more creatures that burrow underground and can find themselves in this weird cavern

(image by Fir0002)

their forearms are specifically developed to dig! perhaps they can dig through a rival’s belongings, or perhaps you can fashion their claws into brass knuckles or a belt buckle?

(image by faraaz abdool)

another fashionable, lesser-known invert is the velvet worm! we have plenty of slugs in fallen london, but you know what they’re lacking? legs

about 200 species of velvet worms have been described and they’re already quite rare! they all fall under the onychophora name and there isn’t anything else like them. you could easily have some persuasive with this, or if you turn it into a stole that can hold however many hands you want!

(image by docj96)

also, thrips! i found out about these today and apparently you’re likely to hear about them if you’re into gardening. sometimes they have crab claws for forelegs, so hey- more bazaar similarities! they have an interesting method of flight (clapping their wings together) but this might not bee too impactful unless you want a novel way to raise your investigating

flies are also criminally underrated, but i couldn’t tell you how many flies live in fallen london. stalk-eyed flies, however, are gorgeous things that would work so well as t2 companions! you could even go all out with a horsefly taking on attributes of an actual horse

(image by minden pictures)

the stalk eyed fly sees you five minutes before you can see it

there are genuinely so many more that come to mind (even neathy types of mantis- orchid mantids that have adapted to blend in with mushrooms! imagine!) but a good way to finish this off is with a love story

there are centipedes who will guard and hold their young close to them! giant centipedes are protective mothers and you can get hundreds of companions in one- or perhaps just one companion who really misses her hundreds of kids. and they hold their eggs just as carefully whilst waiting for them to hatch!

isn’t that a good love story? there’s a lot you can combine this with, but i’ve spent most of today writing this one! do with these creatures what you will, i definitely enjoyed talking about neathy possibilities for insects!

(bogleech also has a fantastic article on insects that should be used as the basis for pokemon designs, if you want even more out there bugs be sure to look here)

[k-llama-llama]

The Break

Stray Kids AU: 9th member

Tori x Stray Kids

Tori tells the boys about her plans.

A/N:  What’s this? a post up on time? Please check out my PATREON (patreon.com/kllamallama) for exclusive posts you can’t get anywhere else, as well as lots of other cool benefits!

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Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“Can I talk to you guys?” Tori asked, coming out of the bedroom.

The boys were all sat on the floor, gathered around the noodles they’d ordered, and they looked up when she entered.

“Sure, what’s up?” Changbin said.

“Is something wrong?” Chan wiped his mouth, looking up in mild concern.

“Everything’s fine.” She reassured him. “I just...need to talk to you guys.”

She’d been trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject, but ultimately realized that there was nothing to be gained from beating around the bush. They needed to focus on their upcoming comeback, and they needed to know that she could be focused on it, no matter what was going on with her solo song.

Felix raised his eyebrows, and she nodded in confirmation.

“So.”She clapped her hands together. “I wrote a song.”

Jisung snorted. “We don’t care, eat.”

Chan slapped his arm. “Of course we care. We should all listen to it tomorrow, and maybe it could be a contender for our next album.”

“Why is her song automatically a contender?” Seungmin asked. “It could be terrible.”

“It probably is.” Jisung nodded.

“We should at least listen to it before we-”

“How about we let Tori finish talking?” Felix cut Hyunjin off, pointing back to where Tori was still waiting.

“Thank you.” Tori smiled at him. “Actually, I wrote the song for me.”

“Just for fun then?” Jeongin tilted his head.

“Oh, or you could do it for a dance cover!” Minho exclaimed. “It would be so cool if that was to a song you had written.”

Tori sighed. “How about we all just stop guessing until after I’m done?”

“Right, sorry.” Hyunjin took another bite of his noodles. “Go on.”

“And talk fast, I want to eat.” Jisung asked.

Tori sighed. “Well, I wrote a song for myself. And I showed it to JYP and he-”

“Why would you show it to JYP? We could just look-” Chan shrunk back from her glare. “Right, go on. I’m listening.”

“I showed it to JYP, and to Rain actually but that’s-”

“You met Rain?”

“Yeah, and he liked it, and he said I should release it.”

“Release it?”

“Yeah. On my own.”

She could see the wheels turning in their heads as they all processed it.

Minho got there first. “Like...a solo debut?”

“Exactly like a solo debut.” Tori nodded.

“But you’d....why would you...” Jeongin fumbled for words. “You’d leave Stray Kids?”

“You’re not allowed to leave!” Jisung exclaimed. “I literally just started to like you.”

Chan stood up quickly, his face pale.

“I’m not leaving.” Tori said quickly. “JYP suggested that but I didn’t want to.”

Chan breathed a sigh of relief. “So what are you doing then? We have a comeback coming up.”

Tori couldn’t help but notice that his voice seemed tense. If she had already told him that she wasn’t going to leave, why would he sound worried about it.

“I wouldn’t start until after our comeback.” Tori told them. “I have a meeting in a few days to go over my ideas for the music video and the choreography, and JYP was going to offer up some b-sides that didn’t make Twice albums for me to add.

“A solo mini album?” Felix exclaimed. She hadn’t told him that bit. “That’s awesome.”

“It is, Tor.” Hyunjin grinned. “I bet it’s going to be amazing.”

“And you’re choreographing it?” Minho asked. “Because I absolutely insist on getting a sneak peek.”

“Yes, a mini album. And yes, I’m choreographing it. I also have like a whole notebook full of concept sketches that I’m going to pitch to them. I’ve been saving up ideas for a while.”

“If you’ve been saving up ideas, why haven’t we heard about them?” Chan asked.

Tori tensed slightly. “I mean....they wouldn’t really fit Stray Kids, so I was just...”

“Saving them for yourself?”

“Yeah, saving one thing for myself. I choreography tons of stuff for Stray Kids, it’s not like I don’t do anything.”

“I know....but why...” Chan swallowed. “Can we talk?”

“Aren’t you talking right now?” Jeongin said, looking worriedly between them.

“Yeah, come on. This is good news, we don’t need to think about the-”

“Sure, let’s talk right now.” Tori crossed her arms. “Come on.”

She turned and marched into the bedroom.

Chan was right behind her, closing the door quietly as he turned to face her.

“It’s not that I’m not happy for you-” He began. “I just....”

“You’re just what? Because it sounded an awful lot like you weren’t happy for me.” Tori sat down on her bed, waiting for his answer.

“I just don’t see why you had to do this right now.” Chan told her. He was keeping his distance, as if afraid that she might bite him if he got too close. “We’re about to have a comeback, you literally just finished promoting with your other group-”

“My other group? It was a special, promotional group, that you told me I could do!”

“I know! And it was fine and it was really good. But why am I just finding out that you and JYP are prepping a solo album, and that it is slated to start going right as we’re getting back into our group activities.”

“I told you it wasn’t going to interfere. Do you not want me to do this?”

“That isn’t the point, I’m just-”

“No, it is the point.” Tori clenched her fist. “Right now, tell me honestly if you want me to do this project.”

Chan opened his mouth, and then closed it again. And then he swallowed and finally mustered the energy to speak. “Fine. No, I don’t want you to do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ve been focused on your own stuff since the Wow Thing promotion last year, and I just think you’ve been....not as involved with the group as you should be.”

Tori felt her heart drop, but more than anything, she found herself getting angry. “How have I not been involved. I choreographed our last two comebacks, I haven’t missed or been late to a practice, I rerecorded like half of our songs to cover new parts. How is that not being involved?”

“You’re just....your attention is elsewhere.”

“I can’t keep having this conversation with you.” Tori shook her head.

“What do you mean?” He demanded.

“I mean....this is the second time you’ve given me permission to do something, and then afterwards you tell me you have a problem with it. And now I have a chance to work on something that I’m really really excited about, and you don’t want me to.”

“You’re still....you’re still learning Tor, you’re still growing with our group. I just think you should work on your skills here first and then, when we’re more senior-”

“I’m still learning? Do I need to remind me that you yelled at me once for trying to write a song.”

“I apologized. You had a song on our next album!”

“Yeah, and I haven’t had one since. And everything I’ve tried to work on, I’ve had to go to Jisung or Changbin for help.”

“That’s because you aren’t working on group songs, and I-”

“I have been learning! I have been practicing, and I’ve been getting better.”

“I just....” Chan pushed his hair back as he searched fro the right words. “I just, no I’m not going to-”

“You better say whatever it is you were about to say.” Tori snapped. 

“You’re a dancer. Can’t you just stay a dancer and leave the writing and stuff to the rest of us?” He regretted the words the second they were out of his mouth.

Tori’s mouth dropped open as she recoiled. “How dare you?”

“Tor, what I meant was-”

“No, I’m done having this conversation in private.” She stood quickly, storming past him. She flung open the door to the living room, starting all of the boys who were still waiting.

“Noona, are you okay?”

“Just great, Jeongin.” She crossed her arms, glaring back at Chan as he stepped out of the bedroom. “Chan, why don’t you tell them what you just told me.”

“You’re not being fair.” He protested. “I’m the leader and I have a right to-”

“No, then I will.” She turned back to the others. “Chan just decided to let me know that all of you would probably prefer it if I stopped attempting to write music and just stayed as a dancer.”

“What?” Hyunjin’s eyes widened. “We don’t think that.”

Chan sighed. “I just think that your writing is kind of pulling you away from the group. And since the music you write isn’t necessarily our standard I think that-”

“Our standard?” Tori shouted. “I’m sorry I don’t meet your standards you-”

“Tor, no.” Felix pulled her into a hug, trying to force her to calm down. “It’s not worth it.”

“Um Hyung,” Jisung set his noodles down. “I don’t know how much of Tori’s music you’ve listened to but it’s really good. I don’t know what this standard is, but it might not be Stray Kids style, but it’s good.”

“She’s going to go solo.” Chan repeated.

“She’s going to release a solo album.” Felix said, still rubbing Tori’s back to try and calm her. “JYP offered to let her go fully solo and she wanted to stay with the group.”

“You knew?” Chan glared at him.

“Yeah, he knew.” Tori pulled back, wrapping her arms around himself. “Because I was so excited I had to tell someone. And I was really excited to tell all of you, too.”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Chan repeated.

“I don’t want to...” Hyunjin looked at the table as he spoke. “I don’t want to get in the middle of things. But Chan, you’re being kind of weird about this. Is there something going on that we don’t know about? Are you guys, back together?”

Chan’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Tori, as if wondering how she was going to cover for them.

She shook her head. “We were. Not anymore.”

“What? Tori, you can’t be-” Chan reached for her. “You can’t be serious. Just because I’m trying to be a leader and-”

“No, because you clearly are so insecure about me leaving this group that you’d let me just throw away an amazing chance!” Tori shouted. “One that I’m really excited about. And that I’m going to do, with or without your permission.”

“You don’t need my permission, you just need-”

“I don’t need your permission, and I don’t need your opinion.” Tori cut him off. “Because I am releasing the solo album.”

“Are you so mad at me that you’re trying to get back at all of us?”

“All of us were excited for her.” Changbin said. 

“If Tori says she’s not leaving, she’s not leaving.” Seungmin added. “She can still release side music too.”

Tori stared at Chan.

Somewhere deep down, she’d realized that he wouldn’t be okay with this, but it still hurt. It hurt that he didn’t trust her and it hurt that he didn’t think she was capable of it. But she didn’t know a way to make him understand, and she wasn’t sure she was going to put in the effort, anyways.

“Felix,”She said quietly. “Can I show you some of my concept ideas?”

“Sure.” He rubbed her shoulder. 

“Can I see too?” Jeongin asked.

“Sure.” Tori turned, heading into Felix’s bedroom.

Felix disappeared to go grab Tori’s laptop, and Jeongin collected a couple of containers of noodles before following Tori away.

“What the hell just happened?” Chan breathed as the door shut behind them.

“She dumped you because you’re being a jerk.” Changbin held out a pair of chopsticks. “You can only eat if you promise that you two will never date again.”

“Seriously,” Jisung nodded. “It’s such a headache.”

Chan sat down, trying to think of his next words. “You really think her album will be good?”

“I know it will.” Jisung confirmed. “I’ve heard some of the stuff she writes for fun, and it’s great.”

“But she’s-”

“Unless you’re going to go apologize, just eat.” Hyunjin told him. 

In the bedroom, Tori had her laptop open, letting Felix and Jeongin flip through the pictures she’d compiled to be inspiration.

“It looks so good, Noona.” Jeongin told her. “I’m sure Chan will come around.”

“I think the problem right now,” She sighed. “Is that I don’t care if he does.”

[anobscurename]

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART IX — masterlist

concept: awkwardness was inevitable after the drunken birthday kiss you shared, but avoidance was near impossible given your living situation. confrontation comes when you help chris learn some lines for a romantic role he's pursuing. the slowest of slow burns. part ten of many

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: strawberries and cringey dialogue, aNgSt

author's note: can't believe we're on part 10 what the fuck i started this on wednesday—?

You had avoided him successfully for a little over three days when you finally ran into him again. You had been going for a perfect fourth, but in spite of all the space the house had to offer, there were only so many rooms you could duck into, and so many midnight snacks you could sneak into your room to sustain yourself as the hours ticked by.

Having lived with Chris for six months, you knew his schedule. It helped in your goal of steering clear of the awkwardness.

He never outright saw you, anyways, always catching you just as you disappeared around a corner or into a room.

The first day had been the hardest. Chris was a firm believer of confronting an issue head-on – best way for cohesive living – and so there were soft knocks on the door, mugs of coffee – cold by the time you finally thought it safe to leave the room without encountering him – left behind for you on the kitchen counter.

He had even texted you. Can we talk?

He had managed to corner you in the bathroom once. That was entirely inevitable, considering you both shared it.

You had been brushing your teeth when you heard the door handle turn and squeak, and you were quick to spit out the frothy toothpaste to call out a dismissive "occupied!"

"Oh, sorry," Chris had mumbled sheepishly before shutting the door again. But he didn't leave. "I... I really think we should talk about last night."

You rinsed out your mouth, hoping to let the running water drown out his voice.

Patting your mouth dry, you pulled open the door. Chris practically fell into you, having been leaning against the frame, weight balancing on the forearm he had propped up.

You looked up at him innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."

And that was the end of that. He stopped trying so hard the day after, and when the third day came around, he had decided to give you your space.

You knew you were being entirely unfair on him, not telling him what was wrong, but at first, you didn't even know. It wasn't as simple as a touch of the shoulder, not as mundane as jealousy. You hated that you had thought it was jealousy, and shuddered at the very idea of Chris thinking it might be. You were not a jealous person by nature.

And then you realised what that feeling was that had plagued you since that kiss – that kiss that you could still taste on your lips when you closed your eyes at night. It was fear.

It was fear of not being good enough. But not only that, it was fear of rejection, fear of losing one of your bestest friends.

Fear of being homeless if things were to end badly, and given the circumstances, things weren't running smoothly as is.

You weren't naïve enough to believe in a happy ending. In the words of the great philosopher Jane Smith – played by the ever great Angelina Jolie – "happy endings are just stories that haven't finished yet."

Fact of the matter was that the chances of the two of you making it were slim to none. You were both too different. Similar on a human level – Anthony would even say perfect – but different on almost every other. Financially, emotionally, physically. You couldn't contend with everything Chris had to offer.

You had served him drinks. You looked after his dog, his house, watered his plants. You lived in that home as his employee.

You weren't a pessimist. Only a realist. And realistically, you'd run the numbers and promptly concluded that while you'd ultimately fail as a couple, you'd soar as a friendship.

That was the final answer, come day four.

"Hey..."

You had stepped out of the sanctuary of your bedroom, only to see Chris stood at the kitchen counter, bent over something that grabbed his full attention. It was late at night, the rest of the lights in the house off, leaving only the warm glow of the kitchen lights. He looked up when you entered, a pained expression overcoming his features. "Oh, so we're talking now?"

You ignored the question, padding over to see what he was doing. The best way to continue on was to pretend that nothing happened. So that's what you did.

Reminiscent of a time before you knew what Chris' lips tasted and felt like, you easily hopped up on the counter beside him. You noticed the bags beside the front door, and curiosity got the better of you. "Where are you headed this time?"

His attention shifted back down to the manuscript that was before him. "I have an audition tomorrow morning in New York, I'm just going over the dialogue one last time before the flight."

The conversation was stilted, and so, to break the silence, you reached for a strawberry. There had been a plate of strawberries between the two of you, half eaten, stems brushed to one side. A playful slap on your hand halted your action, and you cocked an annoyed and inquisitive brow at Chris.

"Don't eat the props."

"I'm sure you won't miss just one."

"Well, it would be easier for me to learn my lines with someone else if you...?" He trailed off, the rest of the request piecing together in your mind.

"The things I'll endure for some food in this house," you jokingly groaned.

It was like his laugh shattered the awkwardness entirely, and suddenly it felt like normal again. And you realised how much you missed it. Missed being his friend.

He slide the manuscript over to you, telling you which character your were going to play. He had already memorised his lines, and was pensively watching as you skimmed over the dialogue.

"It's...?"

He chuckled sheepishly. "A romance, I know. If you don't want to–"

"It's okay," you said quickly. The guilt you felt for basically ignoring him the past few days with little to no explanation heavily outweighed your common sense. You just wanted to help him out – your way of apology. "From here?"

He nodded at the prompt you had your finger on, already shifting himself into the cocky persona of the character he was playing. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him pick up a strawberry, ready for his cues.

"It's a real shame nobody asked for your opinion," you read.

"I've had plenty of relationships," he shrugged, arrogant. "Makes me the authority on these types of things."

"Don't make me laugh," you chuckled. The film was by no means Oscar worthy, but it was a fun indie project, judging from the script. "I bet the longest relationship you've had is with that strawberry."

He looked down, contemplating it for the longest time while you flipped the page. This part was new, and as your eyes skimmed over it, you knew you'd made your fatal error. Guess that's where being a good person gets you.

Gentle hand on your cheek, he tilted your head to look at him. Making full eye contact, he bit into the strawberry. The perfect arch of pearly white teeth sank into it so slowly, you felt like time was frozen. "I don't know," he growled, licking the sweetness from his finger. "You can't fault a relationship when she tastes so good."

He plucked another strawberry from the plate, beckoning you over. You felt yourself lean forward, enraptured in his performance. But at what point did the line blur between acting and reality?

The touch of the strawberry against your lips was cold, fresh from the fridge. The script told you to reject him with a shake of the head, and without its guidance, you probably would've just dissolved before him. You denied him, whimpering a small "no."

“Open,” he commanded, voice authoritative but soft. His gaze was intense, eyes darkening as you slowly opened your lips to eat the offered fruit.

He watched your lips – a whispered “fuck” under his breath – and slowly threw the stem back onto the plate. His eyes never left your mouth.

And then his fingers came up to swipe the juice from your bottom lip before telling you to open again. You complied, but something in the back of your mind nagged at you: this wasn't in the script.

His finger slid easily into your mouth, smooth against your tongue, and you instinctively sucked on them gently, tasting the sweetness and suddenly he was ducking his head down, intent clear, and you just–

"Stop," you managed to get out, your lips so dangerously close to his that the feather light brush of your spoken words caused tingles to flow through you. The goosebumps were back, your skin cold, but body on fire. He withdrew, and you hated how your heart fell, plummeting to your stomach when he did. "We can't."

And then you explained to him why. And to his credit, he listened, didn't once try to interrupt or persuade you otherwise, and he understood.

He understood, because deep down, he knew you were right.

You explained it all, and at some point your eyes were stinging, but you didn't cry, and when it was all out, and what needed to be said was, he simply pulled you into his arms in a fierce hug.

Your breathing was ragged as you clung to him, hands bunching the fabric of his shirt. You never wanted to let him go. As a friend, of course.

And then he said his goodbye with a chaste kiss to your temple, and left, front door shutting behind him, bags in hand.

He left you alone to your thoughts, and the tears came tumbling after.

[technomaestro]

Oh? Tell us about the characters on that list then

*slaps character sheet* this bad boy can fit so much of my own repressed trauma in it

This one could be fuckin *all* of them, but it's probably Kelarvia Arana, aka Kel. Poor dwarven fighter exile from Orzamar who turned to the Qun, was trained wrong as a spy, failed her family, failed the qun, failed her friends, and kept trying to do right. She was... not bright. She took a face full of acid breath for her troubles, got repeatedly stabbed by everyone around her, and still kept fucking trying. She was not in a great place by the end of that campaign.

Closeted Trans Person Gender Envy Character™

So, while I'm very much cis, I did toy around with the idea of genderfluidity and transness at one point. And the closest character to that would have been a major NPC that I had in my pokemon game, Claire deVire. She was a literal illusionist / Fairy Type mage, and honestly one of my favorite NPCs to use in the game. I played her as a confident and experienced trainer who had an air of mystery, was clever and flirtatious, and who had a very accomplished team including trans icon Sylveon. She is/was one of the main *villains* of the campaign, but that's besides the point. If I was a girl, she's who I'd want to be - but I'm pretty solid in my gender at this point.

sexy

That would be Lucas Maignard, the Silver Lion. Not just your average silver fox, but a nobleman who absolutely could rock it. Think Rollo from Vikings except salt and pepper hair. He was power hungry, a staunch revanchist of his family's ancestral title and he would go to every length it took to reclaim it, including trying to seduce the King's consort. He, notably, caused at least one if not more international incidents by insulting the soccer abilities of a neighboring kingdom.

He may have had the highest charisma of any character I've played.

idealized version of myself

Allow me to introduce you to Broderic Gullet, a 6'6 tall constantly drunken scotsman Barbarian with a hammer who was unkillable. Literally - he actually died at one point and came back to life because he was too damn stubborn to leave before his friends had gotten to safety, and some passing spirit possessed him and turned him into an abomination. He was jovial, friendly, could talk to his cat Mr. Pickles, and wonderfully buff enough he could hug all his friends at once. Plus he was a trained chef.

As Fruity And Extra As Possible

Oh this is easy. The Satyr Diplomat Cheldric delWolpertinger, a man who *honestly* should have read the recommended reading before being sent to deliver very important documents (these were actually talking frogs!). He was supposed to board a new train on the mountainous passage to Westport, but forgot his ticket. When the train left, he literally jumped (and I mean I cast "jump" and specifically was a Satyr for their Mirthful Leaps feature which adds 1d8 to my jump distance) onto the back of the train. Unfortunately, the murder of the conductor was a bit of an issue, but Cheldric and some other passengers put their heads together to solve the mystery.

furry

So, allow me to set the stage for Albie, Traitor to Crowkind. A Kenku that was as much benefit to the party as he was walking, curse triggering hazard, this absolute buffoon would do what he could to simultaneously help the party while also doing his best not to piss of Strahd too much. A lighting bolt cast into the middle of melee that hit everyone totally gives him plausible deniability for who survives.

I think my favorite memory though is when one of the other party members just opened his beak and he started reciting the Book of Strahd like Stitch plays that record in Lilo & Stitch

A good runner up here would also be Nilbo, a Kobold Druid who only became a druid because it let him wild shape into progressively bigger lizards and dinosaurs. No other animals, just scales.

I Saw One Of The Extra Fantasy Races That Aren’t In The Player’s Handbook And Almost Had A Stroke

Listen. Listen to me. I fucking love Warforged. I will *always* go to bat for magical robots. They're amazing and I've played so many, from psions to storm domain clerics to the most recent one, Hymn, a gender-neutral Celestial Pact Warlock Warforged who got his abilities because he was a socialist. No, I'm not joking - he was made for usage by the Church of the Sovereign Host, but when a wandering heretical priest came by wondering why the church didn't do more, Hymn started going out at night to perform direct action and mutual aid. Being not that smart, he accidentally wandered into a cult's base and released a captive celestial, who gifted him the power to help more.

a race + class that typically would not go together

I'm of a tossup here - the Halfling Artificer Posco Harfoot, who was a member of the Justicars and in order to even the playing field, built himself a goddamn magitek mech in order to go toe to toe with the other peacekeepers, or of Tiberius Vanderwhinn, an elven Path of the Zealot barbarian who was *extremely* keen on getting his libraries late fees sorted, and gods help you if you dared shout in his library.

sexy criminal

Very few things are sexier than a tiefling, and that would be Boreo Lieran, the Tiefling Bard. Boreo was a staunch contender for the "As fruity as possible" but this pansexual beast is much more in line here because the man seduced half the party prior to or during session 1. Having a prehensile tail and the ability to pick up the gnome lass in the party by it for him to tease probably helped.

Of course, such a man was hilariously illegal, because not only did he smuggle and steal like, 90% of his luxury goods that he used to pamper himself with, he would absolutely flaunt a total disregard for property rights and find himself making grand entrances into peoples homes and lives as part of his wayward caravan, leaving a trail of chaos in his wake.

himbo

One of the more recent characters I've played. Cadmus, Son of Abraxes! A "human" wizard on the plane of Theros, this man is the half-divine son of the literal personification of the pride of a polis that was wiped off the face of the world by the gods for their Hubris. So, an active devotee of the god of victory, and actively blaspheming the goddess of destiny at every turn (As he would put it, we hold the pen in our hands, she merely hoards the ink), his goal was to perform deeds good enough to earn a place as a constellation under the stars. He would only *ever* sleep outside at night, even in cities, because he wanted to rest with them as he knew one day he would for eternity.

[figonas]

Twilight Re-watch Notes Pt. 1 - A Contest for the Worst Movie Quote in History

I'd like to think I'm funny so please enjoy my scene-by-scene notes from a recent Twilight Saga re-watch.

Hey Catherine Hardwicke, opening with the death of an animal was probably not the best choice but go off I guess??

There is a lot of general Bella awkwardness that I'm skipping over here but the scene in gym class is so horrifically, painfully uncomfortable that I almost passed out from the second-hand embarrassment.

Jessica trying her best to be fake nice to the human embodiment of a crumpled soda can: "Aren't people from Arizona like....really tan"

Bella with all the cadence of a child who just found out Santa isn't real: "yeah..I guess that's why they kicked me out"

Mike clearly just trying to get his dick wet: "HAHAH you are funny"

no mike she is not.

I'm not gonna go into the biology class scene because god knows tumblr has beaten that particular horse to death. BUT the scene in the administration office immediately after that is a TRIP. Edward has one of his most dramatic lines here when they won't let him switch classes: “I’ll just have to endure it” ?!?!?!?!?!?! This is INSANITY, he sounds like he's going to burst into tears like Edward please chill you aren't even being a little subtle.

I will never get over Bella trying to put Ketchup on her burger and then just???? giving up???? when it doesn't come out after she limply shakes it approximately once.

“HOW YOU LIKIN DA RAIN GIRL” Is our first contender for the worst and most unnatural line in movie history, and trust me there are plenty more.

Bella accusatorily saying “you were gone” to Edward as if this dude who she met for approximately 30 minutes 2 weeks ago owes her even a PALTRTY SCRAP of an explanation about anything???????

Actually, this whole scene is a horrific nightmare of awkward intrusive conversation:

“You’re asking me about the weather” HOE WHAT ELSE ARE YOU GONNA TALK ABOUT YOU DON’T KNOW EACH OTHER

“hey did you get contacts” WHO JUST ASKS THAT?!?

and of course; “it’s the fluorescents” [RUNS AWAY]

Charlie and Bella have the only organic-sounding dialogue in the entire movie. Any awkwardness they have is BELIEVABLE father-daughter awkwardness and not like "I'm being forced to film this against my will" awkwardness like every other exchange in this film series.

Bella asks Edward ALL OF ONCE about him saving her from the truck and Edward gets so haughty and smug thinking that Bella won't figure it out

“you’re not gonna let this go are you?” “no” “then I hope you enjoy disappointment” [storms off] MY DUDE LITERALLY 2 SCENES LATER SHE FIGURES IT OUT IN 3 GOOGLE CLICKS

“I had an adrenaline rush, it’s very common you can google it” contender number two for the terrible dialogue award.

Edward saying “if you were smart you would stay away from me” AFTER HE APPROACHED HER LIKE FUCK OFF [skeleton throwing its own skull gif]

Kstew got a lot of flack for her performance in this movie but when she has a good partner to exchange lines with she SHINES. The scene with Angela and her at the beach where she tells her to ask Eric to prom is GOOD. EVERY scene with Charlie in THIS ENTIRE FRANCHISE is GOOD. It is nothing but pure misogyny that Rpatz didn’t catch any flack for his truly, horrifically awkward performance

I cannot believe Stephanie thought it would be a good idea to have Edward save Bella from potentially getting gang r*ped like I get it girl is about the drama but still this is just a TOOOUCH too far

“your hand is so cold,” WHO SAYS THIS TO SOMEONE THEY BARELY KNOW COMPLETELY UNPROMPTED???

SHE TRIES TO REFUSE CARRYING BEAR MACE WHEN SHE WAS ALMOST R*PED NOT 4 HOURS PREVIOUSLY LIKE SIS CARRY A KNIFE?!?!?!?!?

The “you’re impossibly fast & strong” monologue is so bad I want to barf

“I’ve killed people before” “doesn’t matter” BITCH YES IT DOES WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

“MY OWN PERSONAL BRAND OF HEROIN” IS SO BAD. Like we all recognize how bad this is right? Especially when one considered the target demographic for these films, i.e. teenage girls, have NO FUCKING FRAME OF REFERENCE FOR THIS WHAT.SO.EVER.

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb” YOU’VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR ALL OF 3 SECONDS I CAN’T WITH Y'ALL. AT LEAST THE BOOK HAD SOME BUILD-UP JESUS GEEZUS

Who thought this meadow scene was a good idea, they need to be sent straight to hell. WHY ARE THEY LAYING DOWN LIKE, SIT MAYBE?????? IT’S SO WEIRD AND UNNATURAL THEY LOOK LIKE DOLLS I HATE IT

The scene where they get out of the car and Edward puts his arm around Bella while Spotlight by Mutemath plays in the background is TOP TIER teen drama bs and I love it. Far and away the best shot in the movie apart from The Baseball Scene(TM).

I will never get over the fact that Edward's bitch ass rats Bella out for already eating when she comes over to meet his family. BE FUCKING COOL EDWARD FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, GOD!!!

Esme is too pure for this world I can’t deal with her, & Emmet waving the knife is my favorite thing in all 5 of these movies

Why tf are Alice and Jasper fucking off doing god knows what in a tree and not helping with dinner like everyone else? Y'all ain't special even Rosalie is helping

Esme talking to Rosalie “Clean this up..now” I LOVE YOU BE MY MOM

Earlier they talk about the fact that vampires don’t sleep BUT the first thing Bella says when she walks into Edward's room is “no bed” girl we know what you after you ain't slick.....

WHAT IS THIS DANCING SCENE IN HIS BEDROOM IT’S HORRIBLE TO WATCH and I want to find whoever thought “well I could always make you” was a good line for Edward to say and slap them directly in the mouth.

“hold on tight spider monkey” excuse me while I VOMIT

Mike offering his opinion on Bella dating Edward HOWEVER justified is automatically invalidated by A. his own romantic interest in Bella and B. the fact that he has also know Bella for all of 10 minutes & has no bearing on her personal life whatsoever

THE PAST COUPLE OF MONTHS THIS MAN HAS BEEN COMING INTO HER ROOM AND WATCHING HER SLEEP THIS IS RED FLAG CITY LIKE BELLA WATCH A TRUE CRIME DOCUMENTARY OR READ THE NEWS FOR FUCKS SAKE

THIS FRANCHISE HAS THE MOST HORRIBLE KISSING SCENES IN MOVIE HISTORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU CAN HEAR LITERALLY EVERY BREATH, EVERY AWKWARD PRESS OF LIPS. You're telling me THIS was the best take of this???? CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW AWKWARD THIS WAS TO FILM

The whole scene when Bella is telling her dad about her date with Edward is absolutely god tier. Charlie snapping the barrel of the shotgun closed, him motioning that he has a halo on, asking her if she still has her pepper spray. BILLY BURKE LIFTED THIS MOVIE UP AND TRIED SO HARD TO CARRY IT ON HIS BROAD, MUSTACHIOED DAD SHOULDERS, WE STAN

WHERE TO START WITH THE BASEBALL SCENE:

Supermassive Black Hole in the background, Alice going AWF with her pitching, Rosalie getting all pissed when Bella says she's out and Emmett yells "c'mon babe it's just a game" like the puppy dog of a person (vampire?) he is, CARLISLE WEARING A SCARF WHILE PLAYING BASEBALL, I WILL NEVER EMOTIONALLY RECOVER FROM JASPERS BAT TRICKS, EMMET AND EDWARDS LAUGH AFTER CRASHING INTO ONE ANOTHER.

A TRULY IMMACULATE MOVIE SCENE. This scene isn’t long enough

“My monkey man” might be the worst line in this movie, I’m so torn between which one is the worst. Also, I'm just now realizing that this is the second time someone has compared a loved one to some type of monkey and I really don't like it.

Bella's defeated “I can’t hurt him” breaks my heart every time. AND FUCKING BILLY BURKE pulling out his acting chops with Charlie’s poor little broken sounding “I know I’m not that much fun to be around we can do more stuff together” & “I just gotcha back” LIKE LITERALLY EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SCENE HURTS ME ON A PHYSICAL LEVEL AND I AM ENTITLED TO FINANCIAL COMPENSATION

I know I've skipped over a lot but it's just a lot of like star wipe level montage of nonsense, so we are mOVING ON to what is possibly the biggest plot hole I've never recognized before now: How in the hell was James planning on luring Bella out if he didn’t find that videotape of Bella's mom looking for her????? Or was he just going to bust up in the holiday inn, metaphorical guns blazing & toss Bella out a window???

This fight scene between James & Edward is VERY poorly choreographed and you can practically see the stunt wires pulling on their clothes but no one is surprised..this is Twilight after all.

Who the fuck starts the fire in the ballet studio if Carlisle & Edward are with Bella, Jasper and Emmet are holding James's arms and Alice is ripping his head off???? Esme and Rosalie aren't there so the only explanation is that Emmett's power Stephanie never told us about is his ability to start small, controlled, indoor bonfires with his mind.

If Bella was losing blood from her femoral artery it is HIGHLY UNLIKELY that she would have been cognizant enough to tell them her hand was burning + THERE’S A BIG ASS BITE HOW DID THEY MISS IT???

Let Me Sign is such a good fucking song. Actually, while we're on music every song on every Twilight Saga soundtrack SLAPS. At least 1 department at Summit Entertainment was staffed with competent people. (side note, why the fuck do I know the studio by name that made this movie. I need to go lie down)

Bella acting a damn fool in the hospital bed like clingy much

CHARLIE IS SUCH A GOOD DAD FUCK!

The Edward/Jacob beef is so dramatic at prom can you both chill for 5 minutes we haven't even gotten to y'alls bullshit yet that's not until New Moon.

Bella really thought this mfer was gonna turn her at prom in the middle of the dancefloor??????????

Flightless Bird American Mouth. That's it, that's the bullet point

Victoria coming to prom, like we stan a dramatic bitch.

I will almost CERTAINLY post my New Moon (Extended Edition) notes in a few days. & yes I do have notes on the entire franchise.

[rosealine-bishop]

Greaseball Headcanons

Okay so, @marastriker and I were talking last night about some GB headcanons. Not all were happy. But Im of the strong belief that no one starts out being the way they are and that their circumstances change and make them the way they are. So, playing off of that, here are some headcanons I've got about GB. (Some HCs may be familiar because they're also on this post here since they and I also were talking about other things and got to talking about potential kids and how GB & Dinah + Electra & CB would be as parents)

Anywho, I've talked about the background long enough, let's get to the main post.

(Might make this a two parter because it genuinely gets so so long)

(also @sweet-dining-car this is the post I mentioned)

TW: abuse, alcoholism, death, violence

So, for starters, GB wasn't always the way he is now. (Even now he actually deflects and has created this persona of a meathead who can be a total dick, but genuinely he's just a soft and nice guy at heart) Back when he was a kid, he actually was the cutest and sweetest kid out there. He was always so nice to all the other trains, and acting as a protector for all of the other trainlets (even if he was the runt of the litter. He just wanted to be like his favorite super hero: Captain America)

He would always be seen trailing Poppa or getting the most upset and doing his best to cheer up Poppa whenever he was having a bad day or looked even the slightest bit upset.

On that same note, Momma to him was like a second mother and both her and Poppa were the perfect relationship. (yes in my HCs Momma and Poppa exist together and same for the Hip Hoppers and the Rockies)

Unfortunately, at home, it wasn't as good as he could imagine it was in the train yard. At home, his dad was the biggest homophobic and toxic masculine guy you can image. A raging alcoholic with gigantic anger issues. He would constantly beat GBs mom and sometimes GB too.

His dad believed that BECAUSE he was the runt, that constant abuse would make him stronger. GB used to be the biggest cry baby but through years and years of abuse, would learn to hide it and "be a man"

His mother would sneak in some vinyls she managed to get for GB of Elvis or Frank Sinatra or anyone else she could find and she would help him hide everything when his dad would get home from work.

GB has always had a soft spot for dining cars because his mom worked close by them and he would sometimes visit her at work when he was way younger.

GB isnt actually straight. He's bi but represses it and hides behind the toxic masculinity because he made the mistake of telling his dad when his dad had a good week and he was almost beaten within the edge of his life. (and since that day, the abuse towards him was actually way worse)

GB would hide any of the abuse behind clothing and sunglasses and a cool guy persona. He would use it to deflect and pretend that nothing was wrong at home.

Eventually when GBs parents split (which was close to him turning 18), his dad managed to convince the court that his mom was unfit to be a parent. (Him and his mom talked about it before and agreed that in the end if the court asks GB his opinion on where he wants to live, he would choose his dad and then go find her when he turns 18. Because that way it would be best for the two of them)

So, at 18 he left without telling anyone and went to go find his mom. However, he never did and in fact found out about the fate of his mom from a phone call, telling him that she was found beaten to death. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened.

GB actually blames himself for his mother's death, but like a good son, uses whatever money he had earned to give his mom a proper burial.

When he has to go back to get her personal belongings, he takes all the photos and rips his dad out of all of them and hangs them around his small one bedroom apartment. He even managed to find some old recordings of his mom singing and some old home videos. (he cherishes those and will play them when he's sad so that he never forgets his mom. and in a way he always has a part of her with him)

He actually is really good at metal working (thank you mara for this headcanon) so he uses his skills to make his necklace from one of his mom's old earrings so she's always with him and in a way that necklace becomes his lucky necklace in all his early races.

Speaking of races, his first race outfit wasn't the best quality at all. He didn't have much so he created the whole outfit from scratch and he actually used to hide his face no matter what, behind a poorly made train helmet, to hide from the risk of his dad finding him.

The longer he was away from that situation, the more he actually would hide behind the early version of the persona that he has now. He's always idolized Elvis and he holds a spot close to his heart for the singer, that he started slowly changing his appearance to look more like Elvis.

He started working out so he would never be seen as weak ever again.

Eventually, he made a big enough name for himself that he would get interviews on TV every now and then and that's how his dad found out about him still being alive. At first it didn't really click in his dad's head but the moment GB started speaking, his dad knew exactly that that was his son. (Yes he sounded more like Elvis but a father never forgets his son's voice)

So, his dad, as an anonymous donor, asked a young CB to crash GB in the next race. CB, not one down to turn down money did just that. And yes, that whole interaction had put GB out of many races and caused him to pawn off any and all belongings to pay for his hospital bills because any small sponsor he had managed to get dropped him.

(No one wants damaged goods)

and while GB is back to normal, he every now and then when he's super stressed, will feel his bones aching, like a phantom injury and he will start limping slightly because he never fully healed from that.

But now that he knew about CB would go to him and ask him to throw races in his favor, sometimes paying in sexual favors, sometimes in actual money. Because otherwise, he felt like he could never be at 100% and would always lose any race after his accident.

He needed the sponsors and money so he would do anything to get back into the top contenders.

He has major daddy issues that he and Dinah have discussed before. She's probably the only one who knows about GBs true past (aside from Pearl and Poppa and Momma)

Because of his trauma, he actually hates hearing even the word "daddy" so one night when CB accidentally lets it slip during one of their sexual encounters, GB slaps him. Thats the only time GB would actually hit anyone.

On that note, GB actually wont ever truly hurt anyone. For all he knew, Rusty actually did crash and all the damage was from that crash. He had no idea the Diesels roughed him up.

But one night when him and Rusty talk and he finds out about what actually happens, Electra has to get his components (namely Krupp and Killerwatt) to hold him back as GB unleashes hell and yells at the diesels. Like there is pure murder in his eyes.

Yes, sometimes GB hurts other trains during races but after every race they get an anonymous donor paying for all the repairs and a letter along with it with a long apology and flowers. (Dinah helps him spell check it)

GB has only cried twice since he was a child. Once when he found out his mother died (and thats the only time he would turn to alcohol. Otherwise he swears off of it completely) and second when he found out Dinah was pregnant.

GB is 100% terrified of thunderstorms because it reminds himself of his old living situation. Often times you can find him hiding in the closet or under the bed, pillows over his ears and under many layers of blankets.

He would actually be one to collect Squishmallows and other stuffed animals because he never got to as a kid. But whenever he gets any stuffed animal, Dinah names them. However, when his kids are born, he gets matching squishmallows with Norma Jean and Presely and names them after his kids. (Thats probably the only time he gets to name any stuffed animal)

GB actually really really loves Dinah. On the yard he may be this dick towards her but the moment he gets home he apologizes to Dinah profusely and will do anything she wants to make up for it.

He would NEVER do anything to hurt her and when she's pregnant will go above and beyond to be there for her. He even went to Dustin to ask for advice and tried to ask him to keep the fact that Dinah was pregnant under wraps (unfortunately, Dustin, being the sweetie that he is, cannot keep it under wraps and eventually the whole yard knows. Poppa actually gives him some of the best fatherly advice.)

When he finds out that Dinah is pregnant, however, he has multiple night terrors about his childhood. He becomes extremely scared that he'd be like his dad and both Dinah and Poppa reassure him that he's nothing like his dad. That in fact, he has more of his mom in him than he realizes. (Dinah even says he looks more like his mom than his dad, even though GB doesnt see it. She's also not one to admit that she actually knows that its true. She's seen a few ripped up pictures in the trash of his dad back when GB and her first started dating.)

Dinah is actually the one who helps GB compile all of the pictures of GB and his mom into a photo album. This photo album eventually has pictures of Dinah and GB and then Dinah, Norma Jean and GB and then Dinah, Norma Jean, GB and Presely. So its just one big happy book about everything right in his life.

One day, he even finds Norma Jean decorating it and Norma Jean, being the little kid she is is worried that her dad was going to be mad because it looks like he had a bad day at the yard and she just touched something that he cherished, even if she was trying to make it pretty, but GB actually tears up at it because its the cutest thing he's seen and now that book is just that much more special to him. He actually gets the whole family to do hand prints on the back and then sign their name underneath (with an addition of him writing "One Big Happy Family" underneath it all)

_________________________________________________________

Okay okay this has to be it for this post because there are just so many more headcanons and I wanted to end it on a happier note. So if anyone wants to know more I'll create a part two but for now this is what we've got because good god is it long.

[supernoondles]

2021

The only time I ever post on Tumblr anymore: I yell into cyberspace signaling I am alive, but barely.

Continuing the format of these posts, the broad strokes of 2021 were...bad. It felt worse than 2020 to me. In 2020 it was socially acceptable to be miserable and burnt out and things were scary and no one really knew what was happening so we were kind to each other; in 2021 the long awaited arrival of vaccines (which, don't get me wrong, I'm immensely grateful for) brushed aside that care. I am not saying anything new by expressing my frustration at how, when privileged people can party, take vacations, and increase economic activity, we (the US I live in and experience, because I am one of those privileged people) ignore the ongoing pandemic. I distinctively remember going on campus again and being like, "wait, I haven't processed anything that's happened in the last 18 months?" and continue to feel that way about just about all the whiplash that's happened to me this year, pandemic related or not.

There was a lot of death this year. My friend A died. My brother's boyfriend's mother died. Reigen, my beautiful perfect angel rat died an excruciating, frustrating, and traumatic (for me) death. These three deaths were within a few months of each other. Small Baby, my second perfect boy, was great one Friday night and dying Saturday morning. The death of a pet, my first time experiencing loss of that scale as an actualized human being, was really difficult for me. On top of this, I am actively trying to graduate. I have completely lost any respect I had for one of my advisors, who constantly gaslights me, has made me seek therapy specifically to deal with him, and makes my therapist make this face whenever I tell her of what transpires in our meetings: >:O. I have been coerced—I would probably even say manipulated—to do a research project that I actively contend, both morally and research-wise (which, of course, I have expressed numerous times over the course of 6 months in which my concerns were completely dismissed) in exchange for a PhD as I think he knows we disagree epistemologically on everything. Thus my active graduation is more of a forced escape: I debated the choice for a good 4 months, saw no better alternative, and have only been working fueled by resentment and the abstract promise of a future without my advisor, which is like getting a car to run on corn oil. Speaking of car, I drive a lot more since I moved to the city, an hour away from campus now. I went into the pandemic still a junior PhD student, not knowing what I wanted, and I'm emerging (still in the pandemic) as a jaded senior student who knows what they want, but has been repeatedly denied the opportunity to do it.  

My end of year posts are usually a chronological retelling of things I did, or made, or how I passed the time, rather than how I emotionally dealt with things—I usually reserve that for my therapist and E. But this year there was so much emotional hardship. My therapist called the month of August a "constant slap in the face" which was very validating and very resonant. She also made me realize the literal full work day I take out of each week to be frustrated and angry and seemingly not productive is actually...necessary for my work to get done. And I fucking hate that! I'm so mad about it! As a person I am so rarely angry. 2021 has been a year of rage and being deeply dissatisfied and not having any good solutions. I'm trying my best. I really am. And I hope 2022 I'll see some good results for my efforts because I'm so exhausted from feeling like they aren't enough :')

Okay the catharsis of screaming how far away I am from the person I want to be (both in situation and reaction) aside, here is my long boring wall of text where I recall what I did per month.

January was, as all Januarys are in my childish optimism, a good start. The entire first quarter of the year was fine, honestly. I was back in my apartment with J and took an ear training class and this really bad "creativity" class in the anthro department that made me do really bad (I truly have no better descriptor, nor do I want to elaborate) art projects each week.

In late February I finally moved up to the city with M, and J in the third room before he want back to school in the fall. It kind of just happened in the span of a week. Saying goodbye to the place I had lived in four years was definitely bittersweet but my only regret was not moving up earlier. Living in the city—and especially so close to lush, abundant nature—was incredible for my mental health. It gave me the final push I needed to submit my summer internship project with W to an April deadline. I will particularly cherish seeing all the baby ducks and geese grow up in my weekly walks along the lake, which I feel like is an avian metaphor for America's melting pot. My time management skills improved a lot; I started using planners more intentionally, tracking my time, and doing weekly review meetings with myself. Still, the deadline involved more all nighters than any other deadline in the past, probably because it was just me working alone in my room. I missed the camaraderie of a lab. I got my second vaccine dose two days before, but thankfully had no symptoms.

And then 2021 went downhill. Emerging from my room I found not one, but two, $110 parking tickets from my NIMBY quasi neighbor for occluding their driveway by literally 2 inches. I got positive reviews back for my paper and my collaborators didn't say anything acknowledging them? Which was hurtful and confusing? And then M demanded I add all these new things into the paper during the rebuttal, which felt morally wrong? Doing work until the last minute to meet his arbitrary and last minute demands: that's me. The spring quarter did bring some joy, though; I lead two sections of a "how to do CS research" class which reminded me how much I love teaching, even if most of my students had their cameras off and I could not visually gauge how they were learning. I took a lot of beautiful hikes on sunny days. I applied to two funding sources and got both of them. One I really wanted—a fellowship for diverse senior PhD students to prepare them to be better faculty. The community I've made there has been amazing and I feel like it's been one of the only legitimate things this university, which loves to give lip service to promote its reputation, has actually done that's been beneficial for minority students. (Money in the pockets of students. We love to see it.) One was project specific and I was told to do by M; I proposed some future research projects I would be interested in which he rejected and then proposed a bad direct follow up to my previous work. I wrote the proposal because it was little effort on my end, got the funding because M is on the board who choses the projects and told me not to include his name, talked about potentially rejecting the money since I had another fellowship, but wasn't logistically fully funded for the fall because I didn't have enough units yet, so accepted the money and thus...was pushed into doing this bad follow up project. As a conciliation M said "yeah I think if you finish this we can get you out of here and into a postdoc," which completely threw me into a weeklong existential crisis of, "am I...going to graduate? Am I ready?" (which I decided, after several months, yes) and also "am I going to do a shitty thesis about a topic I'm embarrassed about?" (which, after several months and a lot of tears and my other advisor telling me repeatedly that no one will ever read or care about your thesis and also that this is the "path of least resistance", I have accepted).

In May, I took my first vaccinated trip to visit E which, again, transformed the boundaries of our relationship to something cherished and beautiful. I don't know how to write about people I'm in love with so we'll leave it here.

Summer in the city brought intense fog, moreso because I lived on the west side, that was an apt backdrop to all the shit that went down. It was the worst summer of my PhD by far. I spent the entire time trying to communicate with M why I didn't want to do this project I now had funding for to no avail—he would literally respond to my concerns with "eh, just do a little bit and maybe you'll like it more than you think." I didn't go outside because I was depressed I couldn't see the sun. I bought a national parks pass and went to Yosemite with M and D, and then Sequoia/King's Canyon with my family, both of which felt necessary. When I got back J, visiting, was in my house and M and I threw a solar solstice party on a day with no sun. The next week I saw Perfume Genius in a free outdoor concert, which was the biggest crowd I had been in since pre-pandemic times. I went hiking with S's lab, also seeing them for the first time since pre-pandemic. Several weekends in a row I waited two hours in line for a pastry. I had a brief obsession with Hollow Knight. I treated my brother to omakase, met T, an internet friend from when I was 10 who also lived in the city, hung out with D who visited, and drove to Pinnacles with A, also from out of town. Then M, L, and I went to Kauai to visit C and M who were living there for a month. These times were good. Then I came home, Reigen's eye was popped out of its socket, and we endured a grueling week of shitty access to proper care. J moved out and S moved in. I was convinced into buying $500 glasses as it was the last time (until I get a real job) I'd have actual vision insurance. I threw a birthday party and was sad the entire time about Reigen having died. I made spreadsheets for my plants and frogs. The smoke came in, though it wasn't as bad as last year. My dad and I went to MA to help J move into his new apartment, and I finally visited the place I had grown up in CT, and I was stunned by how small it was. Everything truly is much bigger when you're a child.

M moved out in the end of August to also go to school and G moved in. Our quadplex also filled its vacant front unit with college kids who drive a car with an ahegao sticker on the gas tank that begs, "Fill me up!". I went on many first dates, all unsuccessful for a wide variety of reasons. R, C, and T all moved to the city as well. I redyed my hair in preparation for the fall quarter starting back in person and bought a $50 bike I could leave on campus. With J gone, my parents and I went on a lot more hikes. I drove down to campus twice a week, which was more bearable than I thought. One day I spent 6 hours making shipping labels to send 40+ T-shirts all around the world. Another day I won a pair of Airpods in a raffle for an event I was asked to take photos of (and got paid $400 for doing, woohoo) which I regifed to my dad. In general I filled my days with meetings. I spent Mondays talking about academia with my fellowship cohort and scheduled my thesis proposal for the end of the quarter, which was the latest it could be for logistical funding reasons. Resigned, I made progress on Bad Final Project at a snail's pace. At the end of September I went to Emo Nite, my first indoor concert, and no one was wearing a mask except for me and G. The next day I saw Japanese Breakfast, where everyone was masked around me, and I cried when she struck the gong in Paprika. I saw Tennis the next week. Going to shows felt so, so, good, so I bought a few more for later in the year, where I realized that it wasn't the act of going to a show that I had missed; I just really liked Michelle's new album. (Jubilee and Happier Than Ever were basically the only music I listened to this year, besides KCRW's MBE which automatically plays at 9:05 as my weekday alarm.)

In October I got boosted and spent about 50 hours (I counted) making a Kass cosplay, as I was going to spend Halloween with E, who was Gerudo Link. Tommy Wiseau did a meet and greet at the theater by my house. I played in a pop up orchestra (how I missed making music!) and hosted a beach bonfire. N visited in November and I lost my $500 glasses. I became re-addicted to ACNH with the DLC, and also started (and streamed) a hardcore nuzlocke of BD to try to make the game more fun. My health was bad—I would always get just sick enough to not do work, but not sick enough to not game, or relax, or take care of myself. I think my body was trying to say something. I did a*** on the nude beach where D and L convinced me to climb over some rocks, I overestimated my ability to control my body, fell, and bled all over said rocks, but at least it's a good story.

Small Baby died two days before my thesis proposal in December. At about the exact time of his passing I had to take the biggest dump of my life while walking through the park; I never felt such a voracious need to get to a toilet before and on the seat I felt like I was purging my body from itself. That night, after driving over an hour north for bio-luminescent kayaking, the trip was suddenly canceled due to high winds, which I took as an omen to head back to my parents' home to bury him. During my proposal, J, the person on my committee who is not my advisors, gave feedback on things I had argued with M about the whole summer which was extremely validating. M didn't say a single word except announcing he had to leave. I tried to focus on making more research progress but found myself spending hours on other tasks: setting up my new phone, sewing skirts (around this time, I also became more femme), walking. I picked J up from the airport and acknowledged I was burnt the fuck out. On Christmas J's boyfriend joined us and I cooked a turkey that wasn't dry. Friends coming back for winter break on top of omicron meant a lot of drama for our new year's plans in SC. Mainly I ended the year playing a lot of Mahjong.

Now it's the part of the post where I review and refresh my resolutions. For 2020: (1) Get laid: yes. (2) Submit the two research projects I’ve been doing forever: kind of, I did one, and then M discouraged me from working on the other, which made me really sad. If I can finish Bad Final Project we'll revisit it. (3) Commit to writing down my thoughts that make me think, “Oh, that’s interesting, I should write it down.”: I did do this, but only for like two months, but I don't think it's because I got lazy; I think it's because I stopped having good thoughts.

I really want 2022 to be a better year and I really hope I can make it so. My biggest goal for the year is (1) to stop interacting with my bad advisor, thus to necessarily submit Bad Final Project. My other goal is to (2) secure what my next adventure will be post PhD. My ideal timeline is to finish Bad Project for the same April conference (it will be a lot of work, I'm definitely way behind where I was at this time last year) and then write my thesis over the summer while also taking art classes. I have a full other year of funding after this summer, but if I have an exciting thing coming up, I don't have to stick around—but I'm also totally fine with basically chilling for a year. Nice to have goals, though I won't beat myself up for not achieving them, are (3) lose 15 pounds and (4) leave the house at least once every two days.

I have no concluding paragraph. It's barely past midnight but I'm tired, so I'm going to bed.