#this is utterly incomprehensible to anyone with sense

[comicaurora]

So uhh. If you feel like talking about it. As someone who lives in the US, how are you being kind to yourself on this upsetting morning <3

Checked in with my loved ones first and foremost.

It's interesting. The vibe I've been getting from my circle is very different from 2016. Much less… dread and horror at a realignment of the understanding of what can and can't happen here, now, in this place and day and age. More "fuck, guys. again? whatever. enjoy your consequences, maybe you'll manage to learn something this time."

Frustration and anger is not the most positive feeling, or even the most fair one to express, but it is a protective one. It hurts a lot less than most alternatives.

And it's quite a shift. It was earthshattering back then. How could this have been allowed to happen? Why couldn't it be stopped? Why couldn't we stop it? Why couldn't I stop it? Why couldn't everyone see what this meant? Why couldn't I make them understand? Did they really not care? What did that mean about humanity as a whole? Were we so thoughtless? How could anyone be trusted?

It seems… much less earthshattering to see it happen twice. Disappointing, sure. Frustrating. But nowhere near as devastating as the first time I saw it unfold. We already knew it could happen. I've already had time to digest the implications. Now I'm just freshly disappointed.

It also feels less indicative of Crushing Truths Of Reality this time. We've seen shit get bad. We've also seen shit get better from here! We know both outcomes are possible, even inevitable. We know hoping for a better future is always worthwhile. This isn't the apocalypse. It's an unremarkably bad turn of events brought on by unremarkably self-centered well-documented human impulses. It's utterly mundane in its unpleasantness. It doesn't need to be dignified with despair.

A democratic election, no matter the outcome or the side we're on, makes us all acutely aware of how outnumbered we are by people whose worldviews and priorities are demonstrably incomprehensible to us. And the first time you get outnumbered, it's a shock. Defeat is haunting. It didn't matter how badly you wanted it; by the very function of democracy, you do not have the power to override greater numbers. (insert electoral college caveat here)

The second time through, I find myself focusing on a different facet that has dramatically reduced the amount of spiralling I'm doing. I don't expect this to work for everyone, but for me specifically, it helped to crystallize a few thoughts:

You don't have the power to control anyone else. You don't. You can't share your worldview and your revelations with them. You can't make them think or understand anything. You can lay it all out for them, but you can't make them listen, and you can't make it click. A mentor can't make their student learn a lesson; that's why teaching is so complicated and hard. An active choice must be made by the person to enable themselves to understand, and they must put the pieces together in their own mind before it makes sense to them, and the pieces must have been presented in a way that makes sense to them in the first place. Lead a horse to water, can't make them drink.

These elections highlight a disconnect in what different groups of people care about; and no matter how clearly you explain yourself or how passionately you perform, caring cannot be forced on someone. Understanding and connection cannot be forced. You cannot make anything or anyone matter to someone. They have to choose to see how it matters in order to internalize it. If they choose not to, that is not your failing. You couldn't have made them do it by just Explaining Better. They are not your responsibility. They make their own choices. You can't reach inside their head and connect the dots for them.

I'm a storyteller. I make stories and put them out into the world. I hope people get something good out of them, but I have no control over what that something is. I want people to be thoughtful and kind and compassionate and hopeful and see themselves reflected in stranges, no matter their differences. I can craft stories that I hope encourage this. But that is the extent of my ability and the extent of my responsibility. I control no-one's actions but my own, and so while I am not having the best day, I am at least content that I am doing what I can, and I am not shattering myself against impossibilities trying to control the things I can't.

Sometimes, people make decisions that I think are really bad. I can't make that not happen. All I can do is try to make decisions that will result in things I think are good. Today, that means checking in on people, and not assigning too much dramatic narrative weight to an ultimately mundane set of unremarkable bad decisions outside of my control. We'll take life as it comes and help each other out when and how we can. Everything else is out of our hands.

[mya-valentine]

Headcanon: The Harbingers With an Naive S/O

Pierro

As the leader of the Harbingers, Pierro takes his role seriously, and when he realizes how naive you are, his protective instincts kick in. He often shields you from the darker side of Fatui affairs, keeping you in the dark about the more ruthless aspects of their operations. He wants to preserve your innocence as much as possible, which is a rare sentiment from someone as cold and calculated as Pierro.

While Pierro is usually stern and emotionless, your purity softens him. He finds solace in your presence and enjoys your simple outlook on life. It reminds him of a time before he became the harbinger of destruction and chaos.

Pierro knows that you're easy to mislead, so he's always careful with his words. He makes sure to explain things in a way that won’t overwhelm you, but also so you don’t ask too many dangerous questions. You remain blissfully unaware of just how much blood is on his hands, and Pierro likes it that way.

Pierro would never admit it, but he goes out of his way to ensure you’re kept far from harm, even if you’re unaware of it. He’s constantly working behind the scenes to remove threats before they even come close to you. His protectiveness is subtle, often disguised as him merely sending you off on errands or encouraging you to remain in safer areas.

Your innocence reminds Pierro of a time long ago when he might have been less cynical, less ruthless. Though he’s a deeply strategic man, your presence softens his edges, even if only in private moments. Your belief in the good of the world makes him occasionally question if he could have chosen a different path.

Capitano

Capitano, a figure known for his strength and valor, finds your innocence strangely calming. His life is filled with battle and bloodshed, so your pure and untainted perspective offers him a rare moment of tranquility. When he’s with you, he can leave behind his role as a warrior and simply enjoy a more peaceful existence.

Capitano doesn’t need to say much to keep you safe. His mere presence is enough to intimidate anyone who might seek to harm or take advantage of you. He’s always watching over you, even when you think you’re alone. You might not understand why people give you a wide berth when Capitano is around, but that’s exactly how he prefers it.

Despite his intimidating appearance and harsh exterior, Capitano is surprisingly gentle with you. He’ll place a hand on your shoulder or give you a small nod of approval, small gestures that show he cares without overwhelming you. He knows you’re fragile in comparison to the life he leads, so he treats you like something precious and irreplaceable.

Capitano sees you as something pure that he must protect at all costs. Though he’s known for his unwavering dedication to his duties, your presence gives him a deeper sense of purpose. He fights not just for the Fatui but to create a world where someone like you can remain safe and untouched by cruelty.

Anyone who dares try to manipulate or harm you faces Capitano’s full wrath. He is known for his brutal efficiency in battle, but when it comes to you, that intensity amplifies tenfold. He won’t let anyone or anything threaten your safety or corrupt your innocence. You’re like a rare treasure in his life, one he will guard until his last breath.

Dottore

Dottore is utterly fascinated by your innocence, finding it almost incomprehensible. He often prods you with curious questions, eager to see how your mind works compared to his twisted genius. To him, you’re an anomaly—someone who hasn’t yet been tainted by the world.

Though Dottore cares for you in his own twisted way, he can’t help but toy with your naivety. He might tell you wild, untrue stories just to see your reactions, reveling in how easily you believe him. Despite this, he’s careful not to push you too far; he enjoys having you around too much to truly break your spirit.

While Dottore is amused by your innocence, he’s also fiercely possessive. He doesn’t want anyone else corrupting you, so he’ll make sure you’re always by his side or at least under his watchful eye. If another Harbinger tries to take advantage of your naivety, Dottore’s wrath is swift and brutal.

Dottore, being a man of science and curiosity, is constantly intrigued by your innocence. He wonders how someone like you could exist in such a ruthless world, and sometimes he treats your naivety like an experiment—observing how you react to various stimuli and situations. Though his fascination might be clinical, there’s an underlying protectiveness as well.

Despite his twisted nature, Dottore secretly cares about you. He might create devices or gadgets designed to keep you safe or unaware of the more gruesome aspects of his work. You might think his inventions are just fun toys or tools to make your life easier, but in reality, they’re carefully crafted to protect you from the darker side of his experiments.

Scaramouche

Scaramouche is initially confused by your innocence. Part of him finds it frustrating—he’s used to manipulation and cruelty, so your pure-hearted nature baffles him. However, over time, he begins to appreciate it. You represent something he can never have: a sense of untainted goodness.

Scaramouche, who is typically sharp-tongued and cynical, finds your naivety both amusing and endearing. He’s quick to mock you playfully, throwing sarcastic remarks your way when you fail to notice something obvious or overlook the harshness of reality. Yet, despite his teasing, he never crosses a line. There’s a strange softness in the way he treats you compared to others, even if he tries to hide it.

Despite his cruel nature, Scaramouche becomes fiercely protective of your innocence. He views it as something precious—something no one has the right to taint. While he may mock your naivety, he won’t let anyone else take advantage of it. If someone attempts to manipulate or hurt you, Scaramouche’s wrath is quick and brutal, leaving no doubt that you are under his protection.

Your innocence frustrates Scaramouche at times because it represents everything he’s lost—trust, hope, and belief in others. Yet, that same purity draws him in, creating a tension within himself. He doesn’t want you to lose your naive worldview, but at the same time, he’s terrified that one day, the cruel world will break you as it did him.

Scaramouche isn’t someone who shows open affection, especially not in front of others. However, when you’re alone, he’ll allow himself small gestures—a hand placed gently on your head or a brief moment where he’ll sit close to you in silence. It’s his way of saying that he cares, even if he’ll never say it outright.

Pantalone

Pantalone adores your naive nature, finding it endearing in a world where everyone else is driven by greed and ambition. He uses his vast wealth to spoil you, gifting you extravagant things just to see the look of pure joy on your face. He never lets you worry about the cost or where the money comes from—it’s all part of his plan to keep you blissfully unaware.

While Pantalone manipulates nearly everyone around him, he goes out of his way to shield you from the corruption that runs deep in the Fatui. He sees you as something too delicate for the brutal world he operates in and prefers to keep you in a bubble of luxury and comfort, far from the cutthroat politics of the Harbingers.

Pantalone ensures that no harm comes to you by leveraging his financial influence. If anyone dares to target you or tries to take advantage of your innocence, they quickly find themselves on the wrong side of his wealth and power. He’ll ruin them financially and ensure that their downfall is swift and complete.

Pantalone is a master manipulator, but when it comes to you, he keeps his darker dealings carefully hidden. He never wants you to see the ruthless side of his business, believing you’re better off living in blissful ignorance. He’ll go to great lengths to ensure you remain unaware of the moral gray areas he operates in.

Pantalone takes great joy in watching you light up when he surprises you with something extravagant, whether it’s a beautiful piece of jewelry or a rare collectible. He views your happiness as a reflection of his success, and he goes out of his way to provide for you in every possible way. Your innocent joy is one of the few things that can genuinely warm his cold heart.

Childe

Childe finds your naivety absolutely adorable. He loves to tease you, often making exaggerated claims or telling you about his exploits in a way that makes you blush or gasp in surprise. However, underneath all that playfulness, Childe is fiercely protective of you. He won’t let anyone else toy with your innocence.

Childe thrives on showing off in front of you, especially when he knows you’re easily impressed. Whether it’s through his combat prowess or his adventurous stories, he loves the way your eyes widen in awe. Your naive admiration boosts his ego, and he’s more than happy to be your hero.

Despite his love for battle, Childe would never want to expose you to the darker aspects of his life. He’ll always keep you far from the frontlines, ensuring you only see the more exciting, less dangerous parts of his adventures. In his eyes, you’re someone worth protecting at all costs, and he won’t let anything or anyone change that.

Childe finds it endlessly amusing when you ask innocent, naive questions about his work or the Fatui’s operations. He’ll often give you simplified answers, sometimes throwing in a bit of embellishment to make himself seem even more impressive. Your wide-eyed belief in his stories makes him feel like the most important person in the world.

While Childe’s real work is far too dangerous for you, he often takes you on smaller, safer "adventures." These outings are carefully curated so you never see the true violence of his life, but they’re thrilling enough to keep you entertained. Whether it’s exploring a quiet forest or pretending to train with him, Childe enjoys showing off his skills in a way that keeps you feeling safe and awed by him.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[neurthotic]

Can you do a Shigiraki one please?

𝖙𝖔𝖒𝖚𝖗𝖆 𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖆𝐤𝖎 𝖆𝖘 𝖆 𝖇𝖔𝖞𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉 🕸

🕸 the unlucky combination of his corrupting quirk and abominable personality has made shiggy the most cringefail hermit 4chan-dwelling uber-virgin you can imagine. no hygiene, no boundaries, and definitely no sense of shame

🕸 he crouches on the bed and watches you sleep. he opens your mail. he reads your texts over your shoulder. basically kiss any privacy that you ever had goodbye

🕸 your unique immunity to his quirk makes you the first person he’s ever even come close to romantic involvement with, so naturally he is utterly fascinated by a body he can touch without killing it. he could spend hours staring at parts of you in isolation— he’s eerily captivated by your collarbones, your ankles. predictably, he has a thing for your hands

🕸 “made you something, bitch.” “get the fuck over here.” “you talk too much.” (affectionate)

🕸 tomura talks a LOT of shit. calls you names, spews misogynistic rhetoric and incomprehensible 4chan terminology nonstop, but you know it’s steaming bullshit because all it takes is a hand in his hair or a thumb across his cheek and he’s snapping his mouth shut, pupils dilating rapidly, drooling down his chin and furiously readjusting his sitting position

🕸 makes you sit in his lap and talk into his headset while he plays call of duty or whatever

🕸 this man is HUGE on pda. he’ll bite you, tug on strands of your hair, pass his gleefully trembling fingertips under the hem of your shirt. he gets to touch you, show everyone who you belong to, and prove to anyone watching that he, tomura, can pull?!! he’s giddy and drooling again. you will be pinned up against a wall with his tongue down your throat, and the more people watching the better

🕸 he’s so gross. he eats the weirdest things, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, talks with his mouth full, never washes his clothes or makes the bed

🕸 of course he’s violently attracted to you. that’s a given. but there was one specific moment a while into your relationship when you casually did something to care for him— ran a brush through his hair, or rubbed some lotion into a particularly bad raw spot— and he horrified himself with the sheer depth of love and obsession that instantly flooded his nerves. fuck, he was in too deep— it wasn’t supposed to get this way, where he’d do whatever you asked without a second thought and probably die without you.

🕸 bummer.. too bad he can’t do anything about it

[azen13]

Your thoughts about yandere zhongli but in the au where you are the archon are tasty.... unfortunately, I don't think Zhongli will keep your Gnosis because it would be reneging on a contact and he is Contracts. But imagine... what if you sealed Morax away, and he (much like Azhdaha in canon) managed to split off a small part of himself to exist as a human, "Zhongli" the funeral parlour consultant? Your most devout worshipper.... until he frees your old enemy and friend, Morax. ♡

anon ur so real for this. i 100% agree zhongli wouldn't keep ur gnosis bc. god of contracts. the part about splitting off a small part of himself??? u truly ate. anyways here's a little drabble based on that idea! i had to rewrite it bc my laptop died and i lost my progress sobs

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

CW: Yandere Themes, Implied Stalking

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Every prayer made in your name is like a melody. They float across Teyvat, weaving together in a resonant unceasing chorus. From a young child wishing for protection for her father, to an old man begging for more time with his wife.

But beneath all the moving lines, beneath all the trills and mordents, is a peculiar prayer. A low, droning hum, one that seems to have gone on for centuries. When you listen to other prayers, you can glean out what it is saying. But while this one speaks in a language you know, it utters words you cannot understand. No matter how many sleepless nights you spend trying to decode its desires, they remain incomprehensible.

All that you know is that the person speaking it is deeply, utterly in love.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You hear it one day when you walk through the streets of Liyue, masquerading amongst mortals to understand their troubles. The sun has barely risen, its first rays turning the eaves of homes a warm amber color as you walk through Chihu rock.

Then you hear it. That low, rumbling tone, like an earthquake. It's coming from all around you, but you can't see anyone in front of you, so you spin around.

All you see is a man dressed in fine clothing, a slightly confused expression plastered on his face. Harmless. Unassuming. Even still, you cannot help but think that he looks strikingly like Morax.

"My apologies, I thought I heard something." You offer a kind smile, ready to turn away quickly, but the stranger steps forward.

"You are quite alright. It is quite early in the morning, so some exercise must be cautioned," he says, Cor Lapis colored eyes gazing at you intently. He even sounds exactly like Morax. His voice almost brings you to tears, but you sidestep your sorrows. "Perhaps we could walk together if you are concerned about danger?" The stranger asks.

You shake your head. "Thank you, but I would hate to impose on your time," you say. For some reason, the stranger's face tightens, almost imperceptibly so, but you see it in the slight frown of his lips, the narrowing of his eyes.

"I assure you," the man says, taking another step towards you, "I have no plans this morning." His words have an almost godlike authority to them, though you quickly brush aside that thought. You sense no such power from this man.

Taking another step back, you look into his eyes, as beautiful as polished amber, and stand firm. "I insist, I'm alright," you say, faking levity.

There is a moment of silence before the stranger lets out a soft sigh. "So be it," he says, pausing for a moment. "At the very least, may I know your name?"

By this point, you already want to leave. This man, human or not, is simply off-putting by how similar he is to Morax, in appearance, in voice, even in mannerisms. Still, you manage to stay smiling. "I'm Y/N," you say, offering your hand.

The stranger grasps your hand quickly in an almost vice-like grip. "I go by Zhongli," the man responds. He holds onto your hand for just a millisecond too long, but you don't pay it much mind. Letting go, Zhongli gives you a slight, almost unnoticeable smile. "I sincerely hope we meet again, Mx. Y/N," he says, turning around and casually walking away.

Something tells you that you will, in fact, meet him again.

[adverbally]

A Shot Right Through Into a Bolt of Blue

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Temporary Character Death” | wc: 605 | rated: T | cw: temporary character death, vomiting | tags: AU, canon-divergent, what if Steve took Eddie’s place, pre-relationship, canon-typical violence and gore, hopeful ending | title from “Bizarre Love Triangle” by New Order

Keeping this one short and sweet so I can post it while it’s still the 11th in my time zone 😬

———

It’s not a surprise to anyone when Steve insists on staying with Dustin for their mission back to the Upside Down. The kid is like a little brother to him, and Steve’s mile-wide protective streak isn’t about to let him out of his sight. They’ll balance each other out, he argues. The brains and the brawn. It just makes sense.

So Eddie goes with the girls and tries to throw Molotov cocktails like he’s done this before. He stands there and watches Vecna burn and feels something like pride, like a promise fulfilled. This is for Chrissy.

But then Dustin comes on the radio, hysterical and incomprehensible, and any thoughts of victory are erased.

By the time they get there and find Dustin kneeling in the dirt with Steve propped up in his lap, Eddie’s stomach is in his throat and he’s shaking from running all the way here and he just knows they’re too late. It’s like reliving the horror of Chrissy being broken apart right before his eyes.

Unlike before, Eddie doesn’t run. He does something even worse.

He freezes.

He stands there uselessly as Robin tries to comfort Dustin while he wails on the ground. Her eyes are dry but there’s no light behind them, her spirit snuffed out with her platonic soulmate’s death.

He watches Nancy take stock of Steve’s injuries with her typical no-nonsense attitude, finding the spots where he’s bleeding the most, using her belt as a tourniquet, trying to figure out some way to fix this.

Eddie should offer to do CPR or apply pressure to Steve’s wounds or even just pull Dustin into a hug and make sure the kid can’t see any more of the horrors surrounding him. He just can’t make himself move.

His eyes are glued to Steve— the demobat bites covering him with blood, the way his body is limp under Nancy’s efficient hands, the lack of tension in his perpetually furrowed brow, the beloved nail bat that has rolled just out of his reach.

At least his eyes are closed. He must’ve known at the end that it was coming, shut his eyes to save Dustin the memory of his vacant stare—

Suddenly, Eddie is spinning around and lurching to his knees as he retches into the gravel.

He knew Steve, is the thing.

As horrible as everything was with Chrissy, they had only spoken for the first time that day. But Steve… He had time to get to know Steve, saw how kind and brave and real he could be, talked with him about the kids and how utterly fucked up this whole situation was. He wasn’t just Harrington anymore, complete with a derogatory snarl. He was Steve.

Maybe it was stupid to start falling for the first cute straight boy who was nice to him for a couple of days. It wouldn’t be the stupidest crush Eddie ever had. Sure, the chances of it going anywhere were practically zero, but Eddie Munson is nothing if not stubborn. He thinks he would’ve seen it through, at least became a friend to Steve and soaked up his sunshine from a distance.

But as Eddie empties his guts onto the ground, he is suddenly aware that now Steve will just be Steve forever. Not “sweetheart” or “Dad” or “Coach Harrington” or any of the things Steve might have dreamed of. Not Eddie’s friend. Definitely not something more.

Eddie’s not sure if the tears that sting his eyes are from throwing up or from grieving those possibilities.

Then suddenly Nancy is yelling, “I think I feel a pulse!” and they become tears of relief.

[jackoshadows]

It’s impressive the way GRRM has two characters make different decisions and still end up at the same place in order to highlight how there are no easy solutions to the hard choices these young leaders have to make.

As KITN, Robb Stark decides to put the North and his campaign above personal self interest and refuses to exchange a high-stakes hostage like Jaime Lannister for his sisters. He still ends up getting betrayed by his men and killed.

As LC, Jon Snow selfishly puts his personal interest above the interests of the Watch and decides to attack the Warden of the North to save his sister. He ends up getting betrayed by his men and killed.

As Queen, Daenerys tries to negotiate diplomatically and sue for peace with the powerful masters because their insurgency is killing people. She even goes so far as to marry one of them, Hizdahr, and stay in Meereen to help the people instead of leave for Westeros and Iron Throne. And still, the Slave Masters (and most likely Hizdahr) try to kill her.

As LC, Jon Snow refuses to meet his deputies half-way on their complaints and disagreements, he ruthlessly overrides their objections  and instead depends more and more on the Freefolk to get things done. And still, those deputies end up killing him.

Which is why, as much as us readers can debate on what this or that character should have done and why this character is a terrible leader because they did action A instead of action B or why that character would have survived if they had only done action C, there are always external circumstances beyond the control of these characters and their other actions that push them to that ending.

All these ‘Well he would not have got killed if he had only talked to them more!’ critiques never made sense to me. Even when Daenerys conceded so much ground (There were literal slave markets outside the gates) to the slave masters in order for them to stop their attacks and insurgency, them being utterly terrible people means all that ultimately meant nothing.  Daenerys did talk to the slave masters and they were still trying to kill her.

Even if Jon Snow had charmed his men with tea and crumpets, he would have still ended up breaking NW oaths and neutrality to save Arya, leading to the same conclusion of that being the straw which breaks the camel’s back for his men. Even when Robb refused to exchange Jaime for Sansa, his mother ended up freeing Jaime and his own marriage and breaking of promises doomed his campaign.

As GRRM himself puts it:

And whether it be Ned Stark or Tyrion Lannister or Tywin Lannister or Daenerys Targaryen or Cersei Lannister trying to deal with the real challenges that affect anyone trying to rule the 7K or even a city like Meereen and it’s hard. You know, we can all read the books or read history and say oh, so and so was stupid and made a lot of mistakes and look at all these stupid mistakes they make. But these kind of mistakes are always much more apparent in hind sight than when you are actually faced with the decision about, oh my God, what would I do in this situation. How do I resolve this thing? Do I do the moral thing? But what about  the political consequences of the moral thing? Do I do the pragmatic, cynical thing and kind of screw the people who are screwed by it? I mean, it is HARD. And I want to get to all of that.

Even worse is when people go, well, character A did this wrong and that wrong  and are therefore totally unfit to be a leader, but look character B who has never had to make decisions as a leader that affects thousands of lives would totally be an amazing leader because they haven’t done anything yet. The total lack of logic to make these kind of statements is just simply incomprehensible to me.

[silverdune]

dental floss | one. silk thread

"now your eyes are just like mine!"

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked.

dental floss masterlist | next ->

character(s): park seonghwa, kim hongjoong (ft. jeong yunho, jung wooyoung)

tags: vampires, non-romance, blood (injury, drinking), graphic descriptions of metamorphoses, detailed descriptions of teeth, violence, gore, explicit language, emotional hurt/comfort, anxiety, brief moments of hostility, flashback (past tense), lots of emotions, gratuitous use of fledgling, onions and potatoes get too much of a spotlight (yes), wy has an impacted canine - if i missed anything, please lmk!

word count: 7.8k

summary: seonghwa looks back on the moment his life changed forever, as well as the man who came to the rescue and the odd new invention in his pocket.

a/n: ahhhh i am genuinely so hyped to finally write the vampire fic i have always wanted to write; thank you to peony and anne (@bikerjongho) for all your hype and support, as well as my friend @scarletdemoness22 for all that you do; i love you all 🫶 now.. here we go!

Seonghwa remembers the first time he got new teeth.

All the history books he'd ever read on vampires told him that it was the most painful part of the process- somehow. Surely, Seonghwa thought, between the back-breaking work of having your entire life shift in thirty seconds and the time it would take to adjust to the immortality, two little teeth protruding through wouldn't be so bad..

Oh, how wrong he was.

There he sat, cradling his jaw like he’d never had teeth in his life. It was the penultimate step in the process before the inevitable blood thirst kicked in: the veins shift through the body, the heart restricts and stops its beat, the eyes turn a brilliant shade of gold and the internal temperature drops to subzero. Then, a pair of honed canines push their way through the regular ones.

Seonghwa wasn't prepared for how utterly excruciating it was going to be.

This was back in the autumn of 1882 when he was turned for the first time. He had suffered an attack from a group of well-known vampires who’d been around for centuries, and left for dead in an alleyway down the backstreets of Seoul.

Enter Kim Hongjoong.

×-×

“You ought to thank me, you know.”

Seonghwa couldn't speak, think or move for anyone, let alone himself. He was scrambling to form a coherent thought so the idea that this man- whoever he was- was expecting a thank you out of him was absurd.

In the seconds it took him to get in the most bearable position, he tried to get a sense of where he was exactly. Everything had happened so fast that he couldn't get a glimpse of even a centimetre in front of his face, and the only sensations were pain, pain and pain.

It was gravelly beneath his palm, and his back was against something quite rough. Distant noises of chatter and music were becoming much clearer and louder and smells were hitting like an intoxicating wave.

All Seonghwa could manage to figure out was that he must be on the ground. The area to his right was dark, and there was light beaming to his far left. He was incomprehensibly dizzy, and could just about see the figure standing over him; the man who’d spoken earlier.

Without much preparation, the man came right up close and Seonghwa could taste his scent in the back of his nose. It made him grimace, and in knee jerk fashion, whack the man a good one so he fell back on his ass.

Upon hitting the ground, the man let out a yelp. “Jesus- what was that for?”

Seonghwa struggled to talk through the immense pain all over his body. He puffed the words out between each breath he could muster, “K-Kindly.. st-stay.. out of my.. face!”

A brief pause was followed by a scoff as the man got to his feet. “Not too grateful, eh? Well.. I suppose I can't give you too much hassle. You are in the middle of a very aggravating process.”

That word caught Seonghwa's attention. “..Process?”

“Yeah!” replied the man, plainly. “Right about now.. you should be hitting ‘intermissione cordis’..”

“What does- eurgh!” Seonghwa gripped his chest hard; he swore he could feel each individual ventricle.

“Ah, there it is..” said the man wistfully. “Stopping of the heart.”

Every noise fathomable punched its way out of Seonghwa as he braced his hands on the ground and got on his knees. “Oh my-” He cried out, but no tears formed in his eyes.

Beside him, the man crouched down and tilted his head to the side. Seonghwa felt his presence but couldn't move his head. He wasn't sure he wanted to look at this person anyway.

“Any second now..” said the man, dragging out each word as the seconds ticked by. Eventually, the aching subsided, and Seonghwa lifted his chin as his eyes shot open. A beat passed, and Seonghwa found himself falling back to a seated position, back resting against the brick wall.

Before him, the man sat cross-legged with a smile. Seonghwa wondered why he carried such an expression, and was about to ask when the man spoke again.

“Now your eyes are just like mine!” Reflexively, Seonghwa lifted a hand to the underside of his eye, about to poke at it when the man stopped him. “I wouldn't.. do that, if I were you.” Seonghwa slowly dropped his hand. “They're still very sensitive.”

The man watched as Seonghwa placed a hand back on his chest, trying to feel for a beat. He saw his eyebrows twist and contort as he almost dug his fingers into his skin, desperate for something that would never be there again.

A bewildered Seonghwa let his hand fall to the side. He gazed up at the man in front of him. “What.. has happened to me?”

Finally, the man exhaled, dropping all pretence. “You have been turned into a vampire.”

The world came to a screeching halt.

“I beg your pardon?”

“A vampire, sir,” the man reiterated.

“I know what you said, could you please elaborate, perhaps?” Seonghwa demanded, and the gentleman put up his hands in defence. It was only then that Seonghwa really took any notice of his appearance.

Curly, brown hair, sharp features and a pair of golden eyes.

Now your eyes are just like mine!

“Wait.. you said my eyes are just like yours..” He began to rack his brains for an explanation. “Are you- a vampire.. yourself?”

The man smirked as he put his arms down. “Kim Hongjoong. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Well, Seonghwa thought, that answered his question.

“I.. I don't understand..” Seonghwa winced, the side of his head having begun to pound. He pressed a palm into his temple and groaned. “H-How..” His eyes found the man’s- Hongjoong's- unwavering expression and all of a sudden he went completely numb. “Did you-”

Hongjoong was quick on the pulse. “No! No!” The smirk immediately dropped from his face and he let out a sigh. “It was not me.. The group of vampires who attacked you were responsible.”

“Group of.. vampires..?”

Hongjoong rubbed his face then said, “Okay, let me try this: what's the last thing you remember?”

Seonghwa glanced up at him. The air around them was incredibly cold, but he couldn't feel anything from his own person. The question had caught him off guard, but once it clicked, he hummed and averted his gaze to see if he could mentally retrace his steps.

He had gone out mid-afternoon to purchase some groceries. The local market is a mere ten-minute walk from where he lives, if he uses the shortcut down the side streets. Seonghwa didn’t want to be out too long, as the sun had begun to set much earlier, so he had taken said shortcut and wound up at the exact stall where he needed to go.

Hongjoong looked around as Seonghwa explained, and found a small, ripped paper bag a couple metres to the right. From where he was, he could see two onions and three potatoes.

“So.. I’m guessing this is the alleyway you take to get back home?” asked Hongjoong. Seonghwa nodded his head.

“I must have only been twenty seconds down the path when I was grappled and pulled to the ground. It was.. swift. I will give them that.”

A sympathetic half-grin appeared on Hongjoong's lips as he moved to sit beside Seonghwa. “What were the onions and potatoes for?”

Seonghwa stilled for a moment. “Stew.”

“Thought so. That market has good food. Good prices too.”

Seonghwa let out a passive noise, not really sure he was fully present for these pleasantries, though he did have one thing on his mind. “So.. where did you eventually spring from?”

Hongjoong snorted, “You make me sound like a jack-in-the-box.”

“Well, forgive me, sir-” Seonghwa shifted a little, trying to ease as much tension as he possibly could. Most of the aching was concentrated in his lower back and legs, and each inch of movement proved to be much harder than the last. “It is- gah- not.. mmph-”

Hongjoong noticed how challenging it was for Seonghwa to adjust, and he stretched his hands out, just in case he needed something to fall back on. Seonghwa didn't exactly reject this notion, but he didn't seem overly accepting of it either.

“Careful, fledgling..” Hongjoong got on his knees, almost resting one hand on Seonghwa's shoulder. “This is all still very new to you. Don't do anything that will cause more damage.”

“Ha-” Seonghwa exhaled. “As if I could.”

There was a bite to that statement. Hongjoong laughed to himself.

Once Seonghwa got into a position that seemed the most comfortable - a miracle in the current circumstances - he rested his head against the brick wall and let out a deep sigh. “So.. as I was saying..”

“Where did I spring from?” Hongjoong repeated, an almost charming half-grin on his lips. Seonghwa saw it in his peripheral vision and a chortle left his throat.

“That. I was going to add that it was not like you had made a gentle introduction.”

“Well..” Hongjoong sat back beside him. “I couldn't exactly stroll on down with a smile and a wave and say, ‘hello, I’m Hongjoong!’” A laugh wheezed out of Seonghwa's chest. Hongjoong looked over and knit his brows briefly. Then, he faced forward again and dropped his shoulders.

The question of where he had sprung from was not one he was sure he wanted to answer, as much as he knew that Seonghwa should be told. For a moment he wondered whether he could try and skirt around the truth, tell it halfway.

Seonghwa tilted his head to the right with a curious expression. “So.. where did you appear from? How did you know that I was being attacked? Do you know the people who attacked me?”

Seonghwa was persistent, much to Hongjoong's chagrin.

Hongjoong gazed over at him. Sweat had built up all over Seonghwa's face, and his veins were protruding through his skin. His lips had become cracked, and his eyes were shimmering beneath the light. Hongjoong worried over why the next part of the process hadn’t begun yet, but figured it was due to the effects of the attack; all the pressure had surmounted anything he could bearably withstand at the moment, so the stamina had to be rebuilt from the ground up for the transformation to continue.

“Let me put it this way.. I have a history with the people who got you.”

That piqued Seonghwa's intrigue enough that it shone through the cloudiness of his temperament. He could see the growing discomfort on Hongjoong's face and instantly recognised that need to be reticent.

“I suppose you are not at all willing to tell me the full story.”

A deep inhale led to a long exhale; Hongjoong was in for a long journey with this one. “You would be right.”

For some reason, Seonghwa felt the corner of his lips tilting up. “Park Seonghwa. I am forever in your debt.”

The second the name registered, it hit Hongjoong that he hadn't even asked.

“Oh my God-” He covered his face in embarrassment and another laugh punched out of Seonghwa. “You know, through all of this I’m surprised I didn't think to ask your name.”

“You are forgiven. Too busy informing me of our identical eye colour to inquire that information,” Seonghwa poked, a smirk now sitting firm on his face.

Hongjoong glanced over once again. This fledgling was full of surprises.

He truly was in for a long journey.

“Well, Mr. Park Seonghwa, you have yet to go through the most excruciating part of the process, and I must warn you: it’s going to be rough.” Hongjoong shifted to his knees in front of Seonghwa, then pulled something out of his left jacket pocket. Seonghwa knitted his brows together as he watched Hongjoong unravel what looked to be silk thread. “I’m not sure if you’re aware but, there’s a new invention that is said to help with cleaning one’s teeth. I read about it in a newspaper some weeks ago - apparently it only became widely available this year!”

Seonghwa’s mind was still foggy from everything he had been through with this metamorphosis but he was alert enough to recognise what Hongjoong was referring to, both in terms of the next stage and this new invention held before him. He too recalled hearing some whispers about it, but he didn’t know more than the basics. Now that Hongjoong had briefly explained it, it started to make sense.

“I am aware, yes.. I was uncertain of what it was for, I had only heard some murmurs here and there.”

Hongjoong nodded in understanding as he wound a part of the thread around his forefinger. “It’s quite the happenstance you’ve become a vampire at the same time this newfound tool would come of use. I’ve been testing it myself and honestly? Works a charm.”

Seonghwa stared at Hongjoong and lifted a brow.. then the other part of his earlier comment came back to him; his eyes widened and his face stilled.

“Oh, wait.. My teeth..” Seonghwa poked at his jaw. “That is odd, why has it not happened yet?”

Hongjoong glanced up. “My theory is that your body has had so much taken out of it with the first part of the process that it needs time to settle down before it can cope with the next part. Each step requires so much energy and stamina, it’s no wonder it’s behind.”

Seonghwa hummed. He was not sure that he was prepared for this. His anxiety had begun to grow when he thought about what all the vampire handbooks had said on this part of the procedure. Seonghwa had always been in denial about those claims, for he couldn’t possibly believe that between all the more life-altering changes, a pair of sharp teeth pushing through would be that painful.

Now a vampire was sitting before him - someone who had been through this himself - who had just told him that it would be excruciating and that it was going to be rough.

That same vampire was preparing a piece of silk thread, invented for use on teeth. Seonghwa was now more curious than anything.

“What does that piece of silk thread do, exactly?”

“Ah, so,” Hongjoong sat cross-legged and twiddled the material between his thumb and forefinger, “they call this floss, that's what the dentist who came up with it calls it anyway. He explained that you put it between your teeth and pull back and forth, tugging it across the gums so that it cleans out any excess dirt.”

It seemed straightforward enough on paper, and considering Seonghwa’s only memories of being to a dentist involved every possible reason to never return, this felt new, simple and honestly welcomed. Anything that made dental hygiene a relatively painless process to sitting in a chair wishing the blacksmith would keep his scalding hot tools away was always a brilliant idea.

But then his forehead wrinkled with confusion. If this was supposed to clean teeth, then how did Hongjoong plan to use it on him?

“So.. that is all well and good and fine, but..” Hongjoong tilted his head a little. “How does this help with what you have told me is a terrible experience of the highest order?”

Hongjoong chuckled. “I’m so glad you asked!” He held out one end of the thread, telling Seonghwa to take it. “Wrap that around one of your canines, really tight so it won’t go anywhere, pull it across your incisors, then wrap more around the other canine so that it’s really secure.”

Seonghwa followed the instructions, but good lord he had no clue how this was going to solve anything.

It took a bit of trial and error, but eventually he managed to wind the silk thread around his teeth as described.

“And now.. we wait!”

Hongjoong sounded so excited.

Seonghwa really was not looking forward to this.

The thread was so incredibly taut around his teeth that it made it hard to move his jaw. There was an undue amount of pressure around the upper lip and he could feel the strain across the roof of his mouth. Though challenging to speak, Seonghwa managed to choke a few words out, “So-” He spluttered, and Hongjoong grimaced; he could tell Seonghwa to stop trying to talk or else risk the thread coming loose, but he gathered from their previous exchanges that Seonghwa was quite stubborn - perhaps equally as stubborn as himself. “S-something tells me-” Seonghwa’s voice carried a lisp and the ends of the thread were sticking out of his mouth. “-this is supposed to be a support of some kind?”

Hongjoong just about understood him, and his face lit up. “Exactly! Since the new teeth are supposed to push through the regular ones, it acts as a sort of brace to keep the stinging to a minimum.”

Seonghwa nodded mildly, as movement wasn’t exactly easy or recommended. A faint throbbing began to develop in the back of his head, and so he pushed it off the wall behind him to press a hand to it in a feeble attempt to get it to go away. Hongjoong recognised that; it typically started there.

“Just around the corner, I’d hold the other hand under your chin if I were you.”

Seonghwa listened without any argument. He realised he must look odd to anyone who would pass by right now, and a few individuals did in the seconds that followed, who either looked on in bewilderment, or paid zero attention and carried on walking.

Not before long, Seonghwa sensed a dull ache appearing behind his nose, shooting across his cheeks and down towards his neck. He let out a disgruntled noise and screwed his eyes shut. God, he hoped this would be over soon.

Hongjoong drew nearer and willed Seonghwa to look up at him. Eventually, Seonghwa mustered the energy to open his eyes and stare directly at the vampire before him. “It’s nearly here, breathe through it, you’re doing very well..”

Breathing was a struggle and a half and didn’t Seonghwa know it. He could just about keep his eyes open, but all other senses seemed to fly out the proverbial window.

Even still, as the aching centred itself directly above Seonghwa’s upper lip and grounded itself in the very canals of his teeth, he couldn’t fathom how this would be any worse than what he had to deal with in his chest.

And then.. scream.

Excruciating could not begin to cut it.

The teeth were honed in such a way that they drilled through the gums, pushed down through the canines and split the bone in two. It was like the teeth were impacted and had just now emerged, but instead of there already being a gap for the canines to grow through nicely, they were ploughing through an already existing tooth.

“You’re okay, deep breaths, I know..” Hongjoong’s gentle voice came in like a breath of fresh air. He placed both hands firmly on Seonghwa’s shoulders and pressed down. Tears almost inexplicably began to well up in his eyes; he had never personally watched someone go through this experience since he was turned, he only vividly recalls the first time it happened to him. Hongjoong tucked a single hand under Seonghwa’s jaw, allowing him to remove it and clutch onto something else for dear life, that being Hongjoong’s jacket sleeve.

The remaining part of the old canine melted into what became a new set of keen ones. Seonghwa could see blood dripping from his mouth and he closed his eyes. The taste filled every part of his senses and he began to billow out tears. The silk thread was steady and secure around his teeth, and despite his doubts, he could honestly feel the support it was bringing to this injury.

The floss did indeed act as a brace, not just during, but after the fact. The tension somewhat diminished the pressure of essentially having a set of knives grow in his mouth, and plus it was a bandage for all the blood in the aftermath.

Seonghwa could only imagine what this experience would have felt like had the silk thread not been there.

Out of his jacket pocket, Hongjoong pulled a handkerchief. He held it under Seonghwa’s chin and dabbed around his lips and nose, causing red to flood the material. Seonghwa let out a disquieted groan with each press. Hongjoong apologised under his breath.

“Awful, isn’t it?” Hongjoong subtly joked through the pool in his eyes, if only to lighten the atmosphere. Seonghwa couldn’t move his head. The aches were fainter but still very persistent. Hongjoong swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t dare remove the floss just yet in order to give Seonghwa a moment to rest.

Taking out the spare handkerchief he had, Hongjoong tossed the dirty one aside and used the fresh one to collect any stray bits of blood.

That was when Seonghwa gazed up at him. Lidded, golden eyes that were brimming with an ocean. Hongjoong sighed heavily. “You’ve done extraordinarily well. I know that wasn’t easy.”

To Hongjoong’s surprise, Seonghwa gurgled out a question. “Is this.. j-just.. a one.. time.. thing..?”

The query made Hongjoong’s heart lurch. “It.. It gets..” He saw the way Seonghwa’s eyes slowly closed then opened, manually, as though every thought was being put behind the action. “It gets better.. with time..”

Seonghwa processed the answer, then fell back against the wall with a soft thud. It did not placate him the way he hoped it would, but he supposed getting better with time was a cut above it getting any worse.

Hongjoong let a long, drawn out sigh go. “Let's get rid of this floss, shall we?” He leaned forward and placed a finger under Seonghwa’s chin. Seonghwa let his jaw tip open for Hongjoong to extract the thread, who was trying his best to be attentive to the aching.

With gentle pulls, the thread was out of his mouth. Seonghwa felt like he could breathe again. He ran his tongue across the front of his teeth and it made him hiss. When he swallowed, it tasted of nothing but blood.

“The thirst will start to kick in now, but I suggest we get out of this alleyway and get you to shelter,” explained Hongjoong.

“Thirst?” asked Seonghwa, brain still muggy.

“Yes, silly. You are a vampire now. Vampires need blood.”

Seonghwa flicked a brow. That part.

“Do you drink.. human blood?”

Hongjoong thought about it. “It's preferable. It makes us stronger than animal blood. But animal blood is still perfectly fine, and honestly, a lot of vampires do tend to drink it over human blood.”

Between all the books Seonghwa had ever read on vampires, he wondered what would be the hardest to get used to. The immortality, the lack of a heartbeat, the teeth- the teeth- or the thirst for blood.

The teeth still ranked first place, but the bloodthirstiness came a close second.

Hongjoong got to his feet, then hurried over to collect the onions and potatoes. “Don't wanna leave these behind..” He went to pick them up, but then saw that the paper bag was well and truly ripped and not serviceable to carry anything. “Hmm..”

As he thought of a solution, Seonghwa tried to get up of his own accord. Hongjoong quickly noticed and stopped him. “Hey! Careful.. Let me help you.”

“I am perfectly fine, no need to assist,” Seonghwa assured, but as he got to his feet he almost stumbled forward directly into Hongjoong, who caught him at the last second. “Oomph-”

“Whoa!” Hongjoong braced Seonghwa by the shoulders, then tilted him back against the wall. “That's why I said to let me help you..”

Seonghwa went to wave him off, but then huffed and murmured a thank you instead.

Hongjoong smiled, “You're welcome. Now.. As for the onions and potatoes..”

Oh.

Seonghwa glanced down at the vegetables strewn across the ground. Minutes ago he had bought those vegetables to take home and make a lovely stew.

Now he was a vampire.

Such is life.

He rubbed his face and laughed into the palm, but came to regret that straight away as it caused a bad rippling in the roof of his mouth. “Ah-”

Hongjoong sucked in a breath, “Ooh, yeah, I would advise not doing anything around your mouth area for now. Talking, eating, laughing, smiling, frowning..”

“Breathing?”

Hongjoong chuckled at that. “You joke, but you're technically not breathing anymore, so..” He shrugged, and Seonghwa just stared at him blankly. “Anyways! I don't have a bag with me, but if I get the potatoes, you can get the onions.”

Seonghwa's back was still against the wall and every single part of him hurt to some extent. The thirst was lying dormant in the back of his throat, just waiting for the moment to wreak dry havoc in his mouth.

Hongjoong bent down to pick up the onions and hand them over to the reluctant fledgling, who took one in each hand with a groan. Hongjoong then got the potatoes and cradled them in his arms before saying, “Right.. are we ready?”

“You might be. I am as I ever will be..” Seonghwa scoffed.

Tilting his head to the side, Hongjoong exhaled. “Believe me. I get how.. challenging all of this is. No one is asking or expecting you to get over it in a flash. I just hope you can find comfort in knowing you're not on your own. I’m here now, and when I get you back to shelter, you’ll meet others who have gone through it too.”

Seonghwa's heart felt incredibly heavy. He could not ignore how nice it was to have someone here at least, especially someone who seemed as knowledgeable as Hongjoong. They began walking down the alleyway, and as it gradually got darker, Seonghwa realised that his vision had improved to be able to see in the dark.

As they strolled, shoulder to shoulder, Seonghwa felt compelled to ask, “Say, how long have you been a vampire?”

Hongjoong paused.

In the back of his mind, he knew this was going to come up at some point. This entire ordeal had given him a perpetual sinking feeling that hadn't gone away since he arrived. When he was asked about the group who attacked, he was thankful that Seonghwa didn't press on, and realised that there was a lot of history Hongjoong was unwilling to unpack at this time.

But this.. this was an innocuous query to the new fledgling.

Just a simple question of how long he had been a vampire.

Hongjoong swallowed. If only it were that simple.

After a disquietingly long pause, he answered his burning question, “Almost exactly a century.”

Seonghwa's jaw dropped reflexively, which made him hiss a little, but he rose above it quickly.

Hongjoong hesitated. “I was turned back in uh.. 1782 so.. Yeah, it's been 100 years since I was turned..”

“Wow..” Seonghwa muttered. “And how old are you? As in, what age were you turned?”

Hongjoong tensed up. If only it were that simple. If only Seonghwa would recognise that this was not a good topic just like before. If only he was not merely a curious fledgling. “I had.. not long turned 25.” If he kept the information to a minimum, maybe Seonghwa wouldn't-

Seonghwa almost gasped. “I, too, am 25 years of age!”

Hongjoong looked over at him. What he hoped was coincidence had now turned to cold ash in his mouth.

“Oh, really? Well, is that not quite the coincidence,” he laughed dryly. “When is your birthday?”

“April 3rd.”

Hongjoong tried to relax. “Oh? Mine is November 7th.”

“I see.. So that means you would've been born..” He racked his brains for a bit. “1757! Exactly 100 years before me!”

Hongjoong looked away. Curse the man for being so.. earnest! Hongjoong nodded, “That does check out. I suppose it's fate, then.” He had become very solemn in those seconds. His eyes became fixated on the ground, and he didn't dare look over at Seonghwa.

Seonghwa noticed this rapid shift in demeanour, and tried to place what could've altered it. His mind began ticking over, the pieces were falling into place.. and then he came to the shocking conclusion.

His eyes found Hongjoong's side profile. “You were turned.. on this day.”

Hongjoong stopped dead in the middle of the alleyway and screwed his eyes shut.

Damn this fledgling.

Seonghwa looked back at him. A thunderstorm had swept Hongjoong's features.

The dryness in Seonghwa's throat became so much more apparent. “I- I am so-”

“Just.. forget about it, okay?” Hongjoong's voice had gone three octaves lower, and carried a tidal wave on its shoulders. “Let's just- get back to the house.” He didn't look up at Seonghwa as he passed by, and hurried on ahead of him, not leaving much room to catch up.

Seonghwa figured he should keep his distance for now, anyway.

As they carried on through the backstreets, the tension had started to ease in Hongjoong's shoulders and he realised something important: he could not project this fear and anger onto the new vampire. How was Seonghwa to know of anything related to this? They had never met before, Hongjoong could not hold him to that standard.

He exhaled, then stopped briefly to wait for Seonghwa.

Seonghwa stopped behind him, unsure if he should walk by his side.

Hongjoong glanced back. “Come on.” His tone was much lighter. Seonghwa still looked uncertain. His eyes began to brim.

Hongjoong almost felt like crying.

Turning to face him, Hongjoong calmly explained himself. “I deeply apologise for my attitude earlier. I know you were just asking a harmless question, and really, I shouldn't hold it against you when you are not aware of what has happened.” He watched carefully as Seonghwa patted the corners of his eyes with sleeve of his shirt. “I am not upset with you, in fact it is entirely you who should be upset with me..”

His attempt to conciliate was eventually met with a sigh. “Please, do not feel you have to apologise. I understand that this is a sensitive subject and I should have held my tongue the second I realised your reluctance which.. was sooner that I like to admit. I am sorry for being so.. rash.”

Hongjoong managed to brush it off. If anything, to show Seonghwa that he knew no harm was meant by the inquiries. “It is more than okay. Now..” He sighed. “Onwards to the house before the sun rises again so we can get you something to drink!”

It was partly a joke, as the sun was not due to rise for quite some time, but if they stayed out any longer it really would be just over the horizon.

As for the thirst.. Seonghwa had begun to sense something tickling the very base of his throat, though he tried his best to ignore it. Soon enough, he knew that would be impossible - there wasn't even any saliva to placate him - but he tried to circumvent it by not thinking about it at all.

The situation had been mitigated enough that Seonghwa felt reassured in walking by Hongjoong's side again. Things remained quiet between them for the majority of the journey, though it was quite comfortable for all that it was worth.

Seonghwa couldn’t help but think of how much he had yet to learn about vampirism. He’d been taught so much already, but the history was so rich, and there was plenty yet to understand. The dental floss was new to him, but it seemed new to Hongjoong as well, judging by how it only became more available that year. Everything was new and fascinating, and so daunting at the same time. Seonghwa was at odds with his own feet, like he was learning to walk again and needed to stare at them just to remember how to put one foot in front of the other. Hongjoong glanced over at him every so often, seemingly forever concerned with what he was doing and how unsure he looked of everything. Seonghwa met his eyes every few seconds, just to remind him he was still there. Hongjoong was always relieved, and Seonghwa relaxed, feeling safe in his presence. Despite their earlier skirmish, it appeared they would learn to get on just fine, and maybe even become good friends in the process.

Seonghwa was at the very least thankful he didn’t have to go through this alone; Hongjoong even mentioned other people. How many other vampires does he know? Does he have friends he is sharing a dwelling with? Only time would tell, as Seonghwa didn’t permit himself another query for the time being. Besides, they were both thoroughly enjoying the silence between them as they strolled through the now deserted market streets of Seoul.

Night had arrived and the moon had risen well above the trees by the time they got to the other side of town. Seonghwa was about to open his mouth and ask how much longer their journey would take - not out of impatience, just curiosity, though his intensifying need to quench this thirst would argue otherwise - when Hongjoong answered his unasked question. “Not too much further now. Just a couple more side streets to go down and a short walk through some woods.”

“Ah,” came Seonghwa’s curt reply. “I actually wondered.”

“Ha, well now you know. My house is kind of tucked away among some trees, it’s pretty hidden.” Hongjoong had stuffed the potatoes into his jacket pockets some time into the journey, figuring he had a bit of room to spare. He felt the weight of them and it made him wonder, “Are you still up for stew when we get back? I’m not the best cook but I at least know how to help throw one together.”

Seonghwa laughed in his throat, which made him cough a little. “I won’t say no, though I worry that it’s getting late..”

Hongjoong paused on the spot and stared at him. “Seonghwa, you’re a vampire.”

Seonghwa stopped beside him and mused on this for a while. Oh, right. He was a vampire now.

Sometimes he needed reminding.

“Indeed.. Indeed I am,” he hummed. “Isn’t that funny?”

Hongjoong scoffed a laugh. “Getting late to us is sunrise. The moon is our sun, the night is our day, and so on and so forth..”

Seonghwa nodded. They carried on, sauntering this time. He found he had more things he wanted to know. “So, do vampires need sleep?”

“In a strict sense? No. But in a roundabout way, yes. We still need to conserve energy, just as we did when we were humans, but we don’t really sleep anymore. If anything, we just.. hibernate.”

“I would argue those two things are synonymous..”

“Yes and no. When we go into temporary hibernation we don’t exactly sleep so much as we just close our eyes and let our energy recharge itself.”

Seonghwa flexed a brow. “That sounds an awful lot like sleep to me.”

Hongjoong stared at him disapprovingly. “You’ll get it when you hibernate for the first time.”

Seonghwa briefly tilted his head to the side, unsure if he really bought the difference between sleep and what Hongjoong proposed as temporary hibernation, but he let it go after a while and faced forward once again.

Hongjoong did so too, “All lessons learned will come in due time, fledgling.”

Fledgling. Hongjoong was getting used to calling Seonghwa that. He recognised the term, but it was starting to stick as a personal epithet. Seonghwa smiled. “I hope to acquire much knowledge, mentor.”

Hongjoong snapped his head to the right. Mentor? “Oh, you will.” He could not help a smile himself. Perhaps there was room for them to become good friends.

Speaking of friends.. “I should inform you, Seonghwa, that I share the space I call home with two other vampires."

Seonghwa’s ears pricked up at that.

By this point, they had reached the woods Hongjoong had mentioned before. Seonghwa had already been fairly nervous, but the confirmation of his earlier thought that Hongjoong was living with other people made those nerves steadily creep up his spine until they eventually reached his neck. He was sure they were now within reach of Hongjoong’s home, and the various emotions he’d begun to feel were now piling on top of each other to the point he came to a standstill in the middle of the woods.

Hongjoong paused and looked back. The panic was clear on Seonghwa’s face. “Hey, don’t fret, okay? They’re really kind and I know they’ll welcome you with open arms. One of them will for sure.” Seonghwa tried to remain calm, even in the face of his growing anxiety. Hongjoong closed the distance with his arms outstretched. “I’m sorry, I should’ve mentioned this at the very start. God, what am I doing..” That last statement was more to himself than anything. He made eye contact with Seonghwa. Hongjoong didn’t know everything about him yet, but at the very least, he was picking it up as he went along. “I’ve known one of them for the last seventy years and the other for the last thirty. I trust them with my life, and I know they’ll be understanding.” Seonghwa took deep breaths. This was okay. He was going to be okay. Hongjoong smiled faintly. “Everything will be fine. Let’s just take this slow, okay? No need to rush.”

With a measured nod of the head, Seonghwa appeared beside Hongjoong again, and allowed himself to be escorted towards the house, the outlines of which could be seen in the near distance. Hongjoong treaded lightly; it was by far the most leisurely part of the trip, but that was okay.

When they made it to the front door, Hongjoong took out his set of keys and placed one in the lock. Seonghwa couldn’t get a good enough glimpse of the keys to understand their designs, but he considered that a novelty that could wait a while.

There were more important matters at hand.

The sound of the door unlocking and opening was an alert beyond remarkable.

The moment Hongjoong stepped through the door, he was greeted by loud footsteps plodding across the wooden floors and a distinctive voice calling from the room he knew was the kitchen.

“Hongjoong? Are you finally back, I was wor-”

Hongjoong closed the front door. Seonghwa was standing behind him.

The man who entered the hallway came to a standstill. His eyes flickered back and forth between the pair, his jaw completely detached from the rest of his head.

“Wha- Who- Hongjoong-”

Hongjoong put his hand up. “Before you say anything, Yunho, just know that this was a rescue mission.”

Seonghwa glanced up at the man several metres away. Yunho.

Yunho eventually sighed, only a bit disgruntled. “Right." He stood to one side and gestured vaguely towards the kitchen. “Come on.”

Hongjoong took that as a sign to bring Seonghwa into the kitchen so they could all sit at the dining table in the middle of the room. He beckoned Seonghwa with a simple jerk of the head, and the new vampire followed him and Yunho into the other room.

Hongjoong and Yunho sat down almost at the same time, leaving Seonghwa to stand awkwardly at the head of the table. Hongjoong then drew back the chair next to him, “Come, sit.”

Seonghwa lowered his shoulders then took the seat beside Hongjoong, placing the vegetables on the table. Yunho’s eyes were boring into him and it was making him feel rather unsettled, but a brief, sharp kick to the shin made Yunho avert his gaze.

So much for being kind and welcoming. Seonghwa stared at his nails. The veins in his neck were becoming more prominent. Hongjoong dug his fingers into the table as he watched the effects of Seonghwa's growing thirst become more apparent. They needed to get this conversation out of the way.

“So,” Yunho began, clasping his fingers together as though they were conducting a business meeting, “what happened?”

Hongjoong explained the entire story, from witnessing the attack, to helping Seonghwa through the transformation, to showing him how to use the dental floss. Yunho listened intently, brows furrowing together as he covered his mouth with his hand. Every so often he’d look over at Seonghwa, with alarm more than anything, and when Hongjoong had reached the end, he lowered his hand with an astonished sigh.

Hongjoong kept some parts out, like the revelation that Seonghwa was of the same age or that he had his suspicions about the not-so-coincidental occurrence, but Yunho knew him well enough to recognise the telltale glint in his eyes.

“I’ll be the first to say it,” said Yunho, after some time, “fucking hell.” Hongjoong nodded in agreement. Seonghwa lifted his head at that, quite amazed at the exclamation. Yunho glanced over at him. “Apologies if I seem intimidating or something. It's not that I don't trust Hongjoong-”

Seonghwa interrupted him, “Truly, no need to apologise. I understand my intrusion is perhaps not.. favourable.”

“Not favourable?” Hongjoong repeated in surprise.

Yunho recognised in that moment where he might have slipped up, “Oh, sir- Seonghwa, is it?”

“Yes.”

“Seonghwa-” Yunho put both hands on his chest in defence. “You are perfectly welcome to stay here, I think I just come across a little stone-faced at times.” He chuckled through that statement, and it produced such a dazzling smile. Seonghwa was internally bewildered. The difference was uncanny. “Honestly, it's just that Hongjoong never stays out that long so when he's been out that long, I know something fucked has occurred. I certainly didn't expect to see a new vampire with him.”

Seonghwa tried to feel at ease with this explanation, but if he was honest with himself, he wasn't entirely sure if he should stay.

Hongjoong noticed this shift in features, “Seonghwa?” The fledgling looked over. “For the love of God, stay.” He tried to make a joke of it, “Don't pay attention to Yunho, he’s just a bit of a bastard sometimes..”

“Hey! A bastard who dragged his knees through the mud for you!” argued Yunho, light-heartedly.

“Something I am forever grateful to you for,” said Hongjoong, making full eye contact with him, before he looked back over at Seonghwa. “Besides, there's someone else here who, like I said, will welcome you with the most open arms imaginable.”

“Literally. He enjoys a good hug,” remarked Yunho. Seonghwa was trying to keep up with all these waves of information, when the train of thought was broken by movement coming from upstairs. They all glanced up. “Speak of the devil.”

“Hongjoong!”

“In the kitchen!” Hongjoong shouted.

Seonghwa looked to his left.

A man appeared in the doorway. His eyes widened and his lips parted in what looked to be sheer joy.

“Hi!” said the man, excitedly. Seonghwa quickly realised that he was the one being spoken to, and went to stand up when the man rushed over and sat down to his right. One cursory glance and Seonghwa saw the man had his chin in his hands with a curious expression. “I’m Wooyoung-” He held out one hand. “Nice to meet you!”

Taken aback was an understatement.

“Yes.. this is Wooyoung,” said Hongjoong, his lips tilted up.

Seonghwa took Wooyoung’s hand gently, but was caught off guard by Wooyoung shaking his hand rather violently.

“So, are you a fledgling?” asked Wooyoung, stars permeating his already resplendent eyes. Seonghwa's breath hitched, and he confirmed Wooyoung's question. “Ah! I’ve been a vampire for thirty years or so.. I’ve got an impacted canine!” Wooyoung pushed a finger into his upper lip to show him what he meant, but the confusion was prominent on Seonghwa's face.

“..Impacted canine?”

“Wooyoung, give him a moment, okay?” said Hongjoong, trying to hide a laugh in his throat. Yunho couldn't suppress a smirk.

Wooyoung let his upper lip spring back and sighed. “Alright, alright..” He got up and poked Seonghwa’s shoulder. “So, what's your name?”

“Um, Seonghwa. Park Seonghwa.”

“Well, make yourself at home, Seonghwa.” Wooyoung passed by with an amicable grin on his face, making sure he gave Seonghwa a pat on the back before heading over to a set of cupboards on the other side of the kitchen. He asked openly, “What's for breakfast?”

Seonghwa was suddenly reminded of the onions on the table.

Hongjoong’s face lit up. Seonghwa understood and gave a nod that granted him the necessary permission.

With that, Hongjoong stood up to make an announcement. “For breakfast tonight, we will be having stew, thanks to the vegetables Seonghwa bought at the market today.”

Wooyoung turned on the spot. “Oh?”

“Are you sure?” wondered Yunho, brow raised.

Seonghwa exhaled, then stood beside Hongjoong.

They shared a glance that said something of note between them.

Seonghwa had much to learn. Better to do it with people than without.

“..What better way to thank you all for your hospitality? And you specifically for helping me.”

Hongjoong breathed for what felt like the first time that entire night. Yunho folded his arms, lips cocked up in a smile. “And so, three becomes four.”

Wooyoung cried out, “Yes! This calls for a toast!” He ran to the cupboard where bottles of animal blood were stored, and took one out before he realised something. “..We only have three glasses.” He was ashamed to admit it.

“That's fine, give Seonghwa the whole bottle,” teased Hongjoong, to which Seonghwa scoffed. Wooyoung laughed, then took one out and opened it before passing it over to the fledgling. Seonghwa thanked him and waited for the other three vampires’ glasses to be filled, and when they were all standing around the table, he let out a gargantuan sigh.

Hongjoong lifted his glass to the air and said, “I’d like to make a toast.. to silk thread!”

They repeated the phrase in unison, after which Seonghwa drank from the bottle. His thirst was quenched almost immediately but it wasn't enough, and so he kept drinking until the veins on his neck started to relax.

To silk thread, he thought.

It was no surprise to him that Yunho and Wooyoung knew exactly what that meant.

×-×

“‘To silk thread’.”

“Hm?”

“The toast you made the first night I arrived. ‘To silk thread’, you said.”

Hongjoong hums. “I did, didn't I? God, how long ago was that?”

Seonghwa absent-mindedly pokes the thread-looped needle through the hole in his shirt and pulls it taut. “You know exactly how long ago that was.”

Hongjoong dons his cheekiest grin. “142 years ago.”

Seonghwa smiles at the fresh mend. “How time flies.”

taglist: @hyungseos-cafe × @namjooncrabs

× tristeetconfus (ave). do not repost ×

[nhaneh]

One of the things that really get me with this huge "AI" fad is how for all their talk of Artificial General Intelligence and whatnot, they've really only recreated the Chinese Room thought experiment and declared it the solution to all of the world's problems.

The Chinese Room, if you're unfamiliar, is this hypothetical about the difference between understanding and the mere appearance of it, and basically goes like this: imagine a room with a man and a book. The room has a tiny slot on one end where one can communicate with the man via written letters in traditional Chinese*. The man himself does not actually know a single character of any of these languages, but the book contains an exhaustive list of possible messages he can recieve along with appropriate responses and instructions on how to write them. Now imagine that this book is so well constructed that in spite of not understanding any of the communication he is receiving, nor any of the replies he is giving, the man and his book are still able to effectively pass the Turing test and convincingly appear a fluent speaker to anyone knowing a traditional Chinese language: can we realistically say anything within that room has any actual understanding of either Chinese or any of the communication it has participated in? The man clearly has none - does the book? Does the room as a whole system?

While I personally tend to think the thought experiment isn't necessarily all that useful due to underestimating the necessary complexity of the book and also the sheer extents to which humans showcase Competence Without Comprehension, it's not lost on me how the recent proliferation of Large Language Model systems and the forced attempts to insert it into just about anything and everything no matter whether it makes any sense or not is basically a straight up example of the Chinese Room on an industry-wide scale.

We have entire throngs of techbros falling over themselves in praise and wonder of these fancy little rooms they've constructed and the free market capitalism that purportedly has created it - even though OpenAI, the organisation that kicked off the AI gold rush with ChatGPT, is technically a non-profit organization, supposedly with the explicit goal to keep AI research available to the public and not left purely in the hands of grubby venture capitalists and profiteering CEOs.

Honestly it's kind of hard to shake the feeling that the whole AI rush is basically the same hypercapitalist tech cult that previously worshipped the blockchain turned to a new golden cow so they don't have to think about their own culpability in the current late stage capitalism hellhole we find ourselves in, even as their latest toy tech god already indulges freely in misinformation, rampant fraud, and good old racial profiling - just to name a few.

And honestly don't get me wrong - I think LLMs as a technology likely have far more actual practical applications than the blockchain ever did, but it's pretty inescapable that most examples we're being shown aren't particularly practical - if anything, I'd argue most of what I see is just spam, spam, spam.

(* the hypothetical scenario of the Chinese Room was proposed by an English-speaking American, and the choice of traditional Chinese as the example is one made purely on the basis of its perceived illegibility to many westerners. The thought experiment does not depend on any particular characteristics of traditional Chinese languages beyond their distance to English, and can easily be exchanged for any written language you personally find utterly incomprehensible - or even some generic form of encryption if you prefer, so long as the information in the notes exchanged is never presented to the person inside the room in a form that they could possibly understand)

[novaharpersworld]

The entity was so utterly beyond description that Joel could not comprehend what it was he was looking at. His brain searched for patterns, recognizable appendiges, a body, a solid form his mind could latch onto, something that would allow him to make sense of what had opened up through the rift. But there was nothing. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before, perhaps unlike anything anyone had ever seen before, and so there was no basis for comparison, no anchor of familiarity for his mind to seize upon, no description or visual that could make sense of it. It hurt his brain to look at and he tried to screw his eyes shut against the sight of it, but he found himself unable to look away, compelled by his need to understand and it held him fast in his doom. It seems to be constantly shifting form in a trillion places at once, in no particular order, in no particular direction, comprehensible in no particular way. Here a tuberous, parasitic limb or appendage like that of a plant or insect spearing through whole planets, there what seemed for a moment to be a cluster of eyes or a great maw with which to devour the stars. And then gone again.

It had ignited in him a deep set dread, a terror beyond all rational thought, and yet an allure that was undeniable; so vast, so timeless, so incomprehensible, that to look away felt worse than to continue gazing into its unspeakable depths. It was as if his brain was afire with profundity and horror in equal measure, burning with the bright flame of adrenaline and the shattering apocalypse of all his categories and concepts. What he once believed was his great knowledge he saw now for the empty, foolish trifles it was, like an ant speculating about the unfathomable giants who strode through their domain with nary a thought to them. It was to see a thing so huge that it could span the dark and shadowed void between galaxies, encompass whole sectors of space for purposes alien and unknowable, reach out and grasp planets as if each were a speck of cosmic dust.

And it was looking at him, if looking could indeed be claimed as a word to do justice to the sensation of its eyeless and ceaseless and pitiless perception of that which was utterly beneath its notice. Microbes on the bottom of a upturned stone. A great tide of dread filled him, the darkest dread he had ever known, for he did not know and could not grasp what it was. The fire in his brain was acute now and the sheer blinding pain of non-comprehension seeped into his waking consciousness.

He screamed. He screamed and screamed until his voice was hoarse, screamed like countless beings on countless worlds in countless galaxies from countless universes had screamed, screamed to no end and for no purpose, a senseless noise equal to the senseless sight before him.

Bria found him in a corner of the lab an hour later, shaking and writhing, drool trailing from slack, pale lips, eyes wide and casting madly about for an unseen terror he could no longer see, his voice ruined and unable to scream further, speaking only an inchoate word in a harsh whisper, repeated over and over as if it were a name.

"Dread . . . Dread . . . ."

[even-if-in-another-time]

listen. okay. i haven’t edited this since 2:36 am last night and i am half convinced that i just blacked out because i only have a vague recollection of writing this and it’s just “OH GOD SOPHIE WITH GLASSES” leave me alone. also keefe is she/they according to my only-slightly-consciousness so take that as you will

(@synonymroll648 this is your fault and you should feel bad /j/lh)

keefe didn’t pay attention to the leaping crystal they grabbed, just that it was warm and comforting around her neck. they laughed quietly when they materialized under a blue-petaled tree, the lights of havenfield cutting through the night and thin fog from the ocean off the cliffs. that tracks. she dropped the home crystal edaline had insisted on giving her from her palm, it falling to rest under their shirt. it should have been fine, but she was just tired as fuck and her father wouldn’t stop making snide comments and it was so completely and utterly fine but they just didn’t have the energy to deal with the world tonight, and apparently this was the one corner of it that was bearable.

they didn’t have any hesitation anymore about letting herself in the back door. “it’s called a home crystal for a reason, love,” edaline had told her with a smile when she had apologized for the umpteenth time. they didn’t start crying, and anyone claiming otherwise was lying, and maybe she stopped apologizing so much after that.

the light was still on under sophie’s door, because of course it was, at 12 am on a school night. keefe pushed it open. “hey, dumbass,” she announced blindly into the room. “you should be asleep.” (keefe was glad that she wasn’t, and would not be admitting that to anyone.) sophie was sitting on the ground next to her desk, spine pressed against the glass of her window and a book propped up on her knees, brow furrowed. the pencil in her hand was pressed up against the bridge of gold-rimmed glasses, and she looked up and the corner of her mouth lifted, and something in keefe melted just a bit. they crossed the room, wordlessly pushing sophie’s book to the side to settle their head in her lap, fingers immediately moving to run through their hair, and she exhaled. shoulders leaving their rigid stance. inhaled. sophie’s room smelled like her, like vanilla and matcha and something warm.

“talk?” sophie’s voice was unbearably soft. keefe shook her head, temple pressing against her knee.

“just this.” they closed their eyes. “just you,” they mumbled.

sophie hummed in response, lopsided grin apparent in her voice.

keefe felt the spine of her book resting back on the crown of their head, the sound of her pencil scribbling intermittently against it, and keefe didn’t know how she was supposed to deal with this enormity inside of her chest, didn’t know if their ribcage was built to hold this much without shattering. sophie’s carpet was soft against their back. maybe cracked ribs are worth trading for this, she thought nonsensically. they let the world slip away, let it fall into the darkness behind her eyelids and the imprint of gold-rimmed glasses in it.

———

the light around keefe was warm when they opened their eyes. the world around them felt like sophie. she was distantly aware that thought made no sense, and distantly couldn’t give any less fucks. she lifted her head up, pushing something heavy off their forehead, laughing when she realized it was sophie’s book, and the world came back in little pieces. sophie was slumped against the window above them, glasses slipping down the slope of her nose, lashes casting a long shadow across her cheekbones from the lamp on on her desk. the clock by her bed read 2:17 a.m. keefe sat up.

“soph, love.” her voice was quiet and rough. “come on, you need to get to bed.” sophie mumbled something incomprehensible, squeaking as she curled in on herself, and for a moment keefe had the overwhelming urge to savor this moment, to paint sophie and her auburn lashes in ink and write her down over and over on every canvas they could find.

keefe relented and scooped up sophie’s boneless form in her arms, sliding off her glasses and pushing a strand of hair off her forehead. sophie’s brows furrowed, and she tried to protest with something about studying, even as she melted into keefe. she grinned and walked across the room to lay sophie down on her bed, pulling a blanket over her. they turned to switch the light off, then sophie’s arm reached out and tugged on her wrist until she climbed under the covers alongside her.

“c‘mere,” sophie mumbled, curling herself into keefe’s chest. her hair smelled like coconut.

“keefe?”

“mm?”

“i love you.”

keefe wanted to say so much, wanted to scream and cry and never let go of this softness, never give it up. instead, she just wrapped her arms tighter around sophie, pressing her lips against her forehead. a fine replacement.

“love you too, sophie. love you so much.” she inhaled. matcha, vanilla, coconut. exhaled. warmth.

cracked ribs were fair trade for this.

[patch-doll]

Drowned Out

contains: hiveminds, momentary assimilation

Everyone else was going, and no matter how many times they told me that I didn't have to join if I didn't want to, the look on their faces made it clear that they wanted me there. In the end I couldn't find it in myself to deny them.

A moment of being in unison, to show that we are one, that we are many, and that we will fight. An offer just enticing enough to overcome my reservations. It was only temporary, after all.

I thought I'd be somewhere hidden in the crowd, an almost unnoticeable part of the whole. You can imagine my shock when I was dragged up to the front, chosen to be one of the faces presented to the world.

Panic started building under my skin, but it felt far too late to walk away at this point. I stayed quiet and still, hoping no one would notice my reservations.

Until the moment came, and the world tilted. I still don't know how exactly it started, but it was more than apparent it did. We started walking, hundreds of footsteps and hundreds of voices echoing in unison. It was utterly intoxicating, the ecstasy of following the rhythm of a single heart.

All those footsteps following mine, all their words echoing through my voice, the noise drowned out everything I could've focused on in the real world, while that pulsing rhythm sedated my mind.

I had no sense of time, only the knowledge that we were one, we were many. At some point my voice gave out, but my body kept following instructions, matching each shout with a breathy whisper.

I vaguely noted that this was breaking me, that my body and mind couldn't handle it, that I needed to run away as fast as I could.

But obviously there wasn't a chance for that. The rhythm demanded, and I would provide. Body and mind worked automatically, another step, another word. My eyes had glazed over some time ago, but it wasn't like vision really mattered.

There was an abrupt snapping sensation, and I collapsed to the ground as the rhythm faded away. Everything was too intense, the shift in my senses incomprehensible after what I had experienced.

But I could feel my own breathing again. Could think in whatever shape I wanted again.

Everyone else seemed fine. Like what just happened didn't feel like it was drowning them. It didn't make any sense.

I thought about asking if anyone else felt the sensation of being killed, but the words died on my lips as they looked at me. Looked at me like they knew what I was about to say.

Maybe they were already dead.

[tothedarkdarkseas]

this may be a really corny thing to send an anon about, but your blog (and ao3) are such breaths of fresh air in this fandom. as much as i love that there even are new gorillaz fans, as someone in my 20s it definitely feels over-saturated with them sometimes, and i feel like the fandom as a whole has lost a lot of edge and honesty that it used to have. of course, that's also because of the canon itself changing, so its nice to see someone so passionate about anything pre-phase four. so, basically, thank you for being yourself and sharing it with the world. also, your takes always hit. have a good one.

I don't think it's corny, I think it is incredibly meaningful and kind. Thank you. You don't know how much a message like this really does matter to me, and how far it goes in "keeping the lights on" so to speak, aha. This truly brought me a great deal of comfort on a lonely night. I don't think it will come as a surprise to say I've been having a rough go of things with the band and the fandom as of late, and I think the root of that isn't really an unforgivable sin of the canon nor an utterly incomprehensible response from the fandom, as I think both have their place, both have some sense of internal logic, both are-- you know, both are things you can see coming. Love them or not, they didn't happen overnight and have clearly displayed references and trends throughout, so to be blindsided would necessitate some... willful blindness, really. The harder thing to stick through is the isolation that comes from not being able to take solace in one when the other becomes uninviting. It's sort of a double-edged sword; you want to be true to yourself and indulge a contrarian urge, yet you want to be understood and accepted without compromise. It's asking too much, at times. I think I overthink it, haha, but I do it because I "overfeel" it first, and I want the fulfillment and the heartbreak both to seem important, to seem sensible and needed, or else-- why go through it? Anyway, I'm sorry for tacking a navel-gazing ramble onto your kind message. It's more than I deserve and it has so much weight to me, the idea that anyone still finds this blog or still reads on AO3 and thinks of it as anything more than an obsolete blowhard, haha. I joke, but it's the reason this still makes me happy. Thank you very much for being here and for being you too.

[sea-salted-wolverine]

You know that one post that describes Tumblr discourse as little mice going meep meep meep. Because while we all take it very seriously but showing it to anyone else would render it utterly incomprehensible.

First thing I see when I log in, someone gleefully proclaiming that they're so happy a person they thought was annoying turned out to be a huge peice of shit, a very normal and healthy way to interact with the world and you don't even need to ask, of course they're talking about a trans girl. We have nazis and tankies and radfems here but were over here calling a trans girl out for posting bullshit on the post bullshit website.

And then because dogpiling is easy and fun, we get a super serious screed on how important it is to "call out privilege in the community" from another trans woman, which really just proves that being queer does not magically confer knowledge or wisdom or even common sense.

Meep meep

[damistrolls]

cha0s if youre not gonna help me and youre not gonna marry corn then whats the point of you exactly

YOU'RE SO CLOSE TO THE ANSWER!! KEEP GOING, YOU'RE ALMOST THERE!

I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S TAKING YOU SO LONG, IT'S LIKE YOU DON'T KNOW ME AT ALL...

THE UNIVERSE IS UTTERLY INCOMPREHENSIBLE AND ANY ATTEMPTS TO MAKE SENSE OF OR ASSIGN MEANING TO THE WORLD AND ITS ARBITRARY HAPPENINGS WILL ULTIMATELY RESULT IN FAILURE OR MADNESS

NOTHING MATTERS!!! THERE IS NO POINT AND NOTHING MATTERS AT ALL, I DON'T MATTER, YOU DON'T MATTER, NOTHING ANYONE DOES MATTERS IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS, SO WHY DON'T WE ALL JUST DO WHAT WE WANT FOREVER <3

[storming-answers]

The failure of twitter is entirely the fault of a business management style rooted in asset-based methodologies that is in no way reflective of Twitter's structure as a business reliant on off-balance sheet intangibles.

To other accountants this will probably be real fucking stupid and to anyone who followed me for cosmere stuff this is going to sound utterly incomprehensible, but I am sleepy and have thoughts about intangibles and accounting, and how much we are growing to rely on them in business.

At the heart of the modern business structure is an accounting style foundationally rooted in asset (Things, Land, Stuff) and asset allocation (Turning cash into things, Land, and Stuff), where people are completely ignored as anything but an expense largely because it's extremely hard to estimate the value of a human life. Accounting's foundational roots are in asset-management practices with a presumption that management understands the value of human lives and will act accordingly.

Tesla is a company where it's wealth is foundationally rooted in what it owns and how it can use it- It's revenues are driven by the cars they produce, and that enables them to grow and develop while relying less on employees or labor. For context, they only spend about 5.3% of their revenue on research and development, with the majority of their wealth from asset costs. Twitter spends 23.49% of their revenue on R&D.

Twitter is a company foundationally rooted in intangibles and goodwill, and that is what drives their organization to be able to succeed- The people who run twitter and the tribal knowledge they hold, the customers who use twitter, and the advertisers valuation of those customers. They are a company that is not driven by advertisers, but by intangible assets that literally not listed on the balance sheet, and in which they invest all their money into developing (Hence the 23% in R&D).

In a more traditional asset-based business, Elon's decision would have made perfect sense, and is outright *recommended* by many trusted sources for management advice. But that's because those products are fundamentally driven by the assets the company controls, and not the employees who understand how the company works. Their success isn't tied to a particular employee, but rather to ensuring they have the stuff to sell and scale.

The problem is that Twitter doesn't exist as an asset-based company, but as an intangibles-based company. Twitters success is rooted in it's brand, it's users, and it's employees. If you're wondering why you're hearing less about accountants, it's because our asset-based accounting methodology *falls apart* when you're relying on and trying to capitalize intangibles. Because employees don't exist on the balance sheet, and Can't exist on the balance sheet. But they are the assets that foundationally drive the companies driven by intangibles. And the entire world is starting to rely less on the stuff you own and more and more on the people you know, even more than it used to do, with companies being up to 30-40% intangibles, which you can't even properly value because you have nothing in your own records to root it in, so you have to mostly just make a rough estimate about how much they're worth with stuff you dragged from the rest of the world which makes everything look so much better or worse and makes the books mean less and less.

So that's why Twitter is going to die in 3 days. Because Elon Musk tried to run the business like a car dealership. Without realizing that he fired all the cars. 10/10.

[queenlua]

whenever i write [character] i’m constantly at risk of him going 128% completely off the rails.  dude will act totally deranged in ways that make perfect sense to me, even if the dude is fucking ruining my plot... but i know the second anyone else looks at the text, they’re going to be like “what,” and “what,” and “i don’t understand why he doesn’t just [x],” and like.  they’re correct, i did not correctly translate this dude’s twisty internal logic onto the page, so it’s utterly incomprehensible why he’s being Like That, but also i’ve never figured out a way to translate it any better, sooooooooo