#unfortunately this is all my dumbass brain will produce for right now

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 05 (first part)

(Masterpost) (previous episode) (this episode, second part)

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes of the Untamed

The Pride of Yunmeng 

Waterfall Date

Lan Wangji gets to experience the two extremes of Wei Wuxian’s interpersonal skills within the span of a few seconds. This is even better than his rooftop date with this horrible annoying terribly, terribly attractive boy.

Lan Wangji has come here on a mission to make Wei Wuxian do his homework, which is why he immediately tells him “let’s go to the library” gazes at him silently for several seconds...

...and then lets him adjust his sleeve for him and step allll the way into his personal space. 

Unfortunately Wei Wuxian is about to guess a Lan Clan secret, so Lan Wangji ends the conversation by saying “let’s go to the library” grabbing him by his sexy arm muscle and dragging him off. Did he hold his arm all the way to the library? Even if he didn’t, his “I don’t touch other people” later at the lake is clearly horseshit. I don’t touch other people unless they are named Wei Wuxian and our brothers aren’t watching. 

(more after the cut!)

Apology in the Library

Wei Wuxian splits his library time between actually doing his homework and trying to make friends with Lan Wangji. And he tries really, really hard, starting by sincerely complimenting LWJ’s calligraphy and offering a pretty okay apology for his prior rooftop antics. Lan Wangji tells him to put his leg down but doesn’t tell him to go sit at his own desk. 

Lan Wangji exhibits steely self-control as he resists this look, which would cause anyone else’s robes to spontaneously un-weave themselves into a pile of threads.

When Lan Wangji won’t look at him because he feels his apology was not sincere, Wei Wuxian becomes much more formally apologetic. First he says “sorry” two more times, and he starts prepping Lan Wangji’s ink.  This involves grinding an ink stick against an ink stone with water, to make a pool of ink for the calligrapher to dip their brush into.

This is not Wei Wuxian being annoying and messing with stuff on Lan Wangji’s desk, a la Zhou Yunlan (Guardian). This is an act of service; a genuinely helpful thing to do if you know how to do it properly --which all of these young scholars definitely do--and an action that casts Wei Wuxian in the role of a servant or junior. 

Then Wei Wuxian offers to kneel down (to offer a major formal apology), while giggling like an adorable dumbass. It's unclear if this is sexual innuendo, just being ridiculously unconcerned about dignity, being slightly into abasing himself for this beautiful person, or all of the above. 

After taking a long moment to consider all this, Lan Wangji slowly and deliberately gives Wei Wuxian three seconds of the eye contact he’s been begging for.

Then Lan Wangji spoils the moment by dropping a silence spell on him. 

Wen Can I Have Some Fun?

The Wen siblings hang out and talk about their secret villainy and then fret about how much it sucks to have a chronic health condition, which is pretty relatable TBH.

I know life seems boring now but just wait until you’re an itinerant zombie with nails in your head.

Wen Qing is a devoted older sister just like Jiang Yanli, although with less fainting and more scheming. 

Good kitty.

Porno in the Library

Now, since this next scene ends with Wei Wuxian being a boundary-crossing jerk, let's start by remembering that Lan Wangji has magically gagged Wei Wuxian against his will three times now, as well as hiding his vulnerable family member behind a ward while lying in wait in order to attack him. So, you know. Teenagers in lust. They are both learning what is and isn't okay.  

Lan Wangji steals a long glance at Wei Wuxian while Wei Wuxian is drawing. 

Wei Wuxian is putting the finishing touches on a gift for Lan Wangji. The gift is a portrait of Lan Wangji with flowers in his hair. This boy is SMITTEN. I think he knows it, too; he just doesn’t think it’s a big deal yet. 

Wei Wuxian, who is good at everything, is really fucking good at drawing. 

When Wei Wuxian presents the drawing to Lan Wangji he says “this is my gift for you.”  This is very good-mannered of Wei Wuxian; Lan Wangji had to supervise him for three days, so he is presenting him with a gift to thank him and say farewell.

Lan Wangji completely ignores him, which is really breathtaking, next-level rudeness.

Wei Wuxian isn’t bothered by this, however, and just embellishes the picture with an extra flower or something before offering it again. This time Lan Wangji takes in and is very very very pleased with it, as evidenced by his slightly widening his eyes and how carefully he places the drawing on the far side of his desk.  

Also he gives Wei Wuxian some prolonged eye contact, and engages in what, for him, is playful banter, calling the gift “extremely boring” when Wei Wuxian prompts him to use more words than usual. 

Then Wei Wuxian spoils the moment by pranking him.

Now - let’s look at this erotic-book situation. This is a boundary-crossing prank, yes, but it’s also an invitation to engage in some form of intimacy. For teens who have access to erotic images, looking at them together can be simple naughty fun. Or it can be a way of discovering and bonding over shared sexual identities and interest. Or it can prompt more direct engagement, up to and including having sex with each other.

Lan Wangji’s horrified reaction means that Wei Wuxian has to characterize this as a prank after the fact, but he might very well have intended it as an invitation to get horny together. 

Either way, his response to Lan Wangji’s “shameless” comment is bound to make an impression.

Wei Wuxian is from the clan of "be free" and he just doesn't see why this is a big deal. And now he’s told Lan Wangji it doesn’t have to be a big deal. And through him, the producers are breaking the fourth wall and telling every viewer that this doesn’t have to be a big deal and that they shouldn’t feel ashamed. 

Threats and rudeness and book destruction ensue, and Lan Wangji is left alone in all kinds of emotional disarray, with a bunch of torn up erotica to tape back together throw away.

Boys on the Rocks

Wei Wuxian brags about his prank to Jiang Cheng and bestie Nie Huaisang, telling them that he got Lan Wangji to cuss at him. He’s going to put a notch on his sword handle for this achievement.  

Jiang Cheng is pissed at Wei Wuxian about this, like he’s pissed at him about everything all the time. Possibly he has already started the seedlings of his lifelong jealousy of Lan Wangji.  

Jiang Cheng doesn’t realize that he’s essentially prepared Wei Wuxian to court Lan Wangji by constantly criticizing, hitting, and threatening him. After a decade of Jiang Cheng’s rough style of brotherhood, Lan Wangji’s elegant and refined hostility rolls off of Wei Wuxian like water off a duck’s back. 

Nie Huaisang wants to make sure Wei Wuxian didn't rat him out, but isn't worried about the destroyed book because he has a whole external drive full of porn. 

Several Brain Cells Trio

These guys do make some questionable choices together, but actually they are all really bright and effective in complimentary ways.

Jiang Cheng is growing into a strong future leader - authoritarian and dickish, yes, but also decisive and unflinching. Wei Wuxian is observant of things around him, always ready for combat, and thinks deeply and strategically about events.  Nie Huaisang is a bottomless font of knowledge, sourced from books and from his own observations. 

So when the Wen spy bird shows up, they spot it, drive it away, identify what it is, and understand that it’s a threat and that its presence has political implications.  

They are all goofballs at times, but highly gifted ones.

Doo Doo Doo Lookin Out My Back Ward

Lan Xichen asks Lan Wangji if he’s found out who was sneaking around his the back ward and Lan Wangji hesitates before reluctantly saying “Wei Ying.” 

Ok seriously - nobody calls him Wei Ying. Nobody refers to him in the third person as as Wei Ying. Calling him Wei Gongzi or Wei Wuxian would be totally normal. His own brother calls him Wei Wuxian. And Lan Wangji has only called him Wei Ying to his face when he was angry. 

But now--immediately after the erotica debacle in the library--he is Wei Ying when Lan Wangji is speaking of him privately with his brother. 

By the way, Lan Wangji's shoulders seem super wide in these robes, don't they? I'm not complaining.

Forgettable Disciple #1

Now we meet apparent nobody Su She, who sucks. He wants to take care of the water ghosts himself. 

He is a no-headband disciple which is like - none of the juniors in the later timeframe go without a headband. The guys who got set on fire at the gate had headbands. One of the Lan Rules is “wear a headband.” Is there anyone else who doesn't rate a headband? This is a plot point later when it comes to the ice cave but for now it just seems that he's that one perpetual intern who never gets promoted and never learned embroidery.

Doctor Qing, Medicine Woman

[OP laughed way too hard at her own joke just now.] Wen Qing is helping Jiang Yanli, and Jiang Cheng is super happy to see her. When did he develop this crush? Because it's already in full swing. 

Did Wei Wuxian just sneer when he noticed Jiang Cheng’s crush? Like macking on Lan Wangji is more appropriate than this? 

I love you and I’m going to advocate killing everyone who matters to you

I’m a nosy jerk and I’m going to be your best friend for life, quite literally

Wei Wuxian complains about Wen Qing ignoring him and she gives him the prettiest, loveliest *sigh* death glare ever.

However when she sees that he's a little brother whose sister utterly dotes on him, she starts thinking maybe he's all right. 

For the Yanli-Qing shippers, there is a tiny breadcrumb here, where Yanli says they met by the river bank.  I don't personally ship my personal girlfriend Wen Qing with Jiang Yanli, but I support your ships wherever they may sail.

Continued in Part 2, right here

[starry-seongmin]

#1 -  “I got these chocolates for you”

#25 -  “Any normal person would’ve wish you were dead but I can’t because I love you”

a/n: honestly, idk how to feel about this one. i like it but then i don’t...i hope you guys enjoy it.

Songs I Listened to : Pretty Girl - Produce X 101 , Adore U - Seventeen

The school was buzzing with chatter and excitement when the annual prom was officially announced by the school administration. Friend circles were confiding and sharing among themselves about the expectations and hopes they held from the refreshments at the event to the person they wish to attend with.

That was exactly what was being discussed among you and your friends. Nicholas was in the middle of complaining why he wouldn't be able to attend the prom because one of his distant uncles was getting married and apparently he had to be there.

"I don't see why I have to attend the wedding especially since it's our last high school year and we-"

"Your uncle is getting married, you should be there" Heeseung scolded, forever being the voice of reason. "This is his 5th wedding, hyung!!" he exclaimed. "I'm pretty sure, we'll be getting invited to another one two years later" he rolled his eyes, slumping back into his chair with a sulky look.

You couldn't help but laugh at your friend's misery. You patted his hand in fake sympathy, eyes landing on the boy across from you; Jake.

He was fairly popular among his peers mainly for his good looks and rich background. He was also vocally gifted and you thought of it to be unfair to the rest of humanity. God really had His favorites.

You didn't realize but your face went into a pout at the thought of Jake being a talented dumbass, until the boy who invaded your thoughts raised his eyebrow at you, the side of his mouth turning up at having to caught you staring at him. Again.

"Penny for your thoughts, Y/N" he asked, leaning forward, hands supporting his chin. "Just silently complaining how God has His favorites" you scowl at the boy who was smiling in amusement at your honesty.

"I know right? Tell me what's it like?" his smile was seemingly smug but in reality he was a mess inside. He couldn't believe that he actually was smooth for once in his life.

On the other hand, you also were an internal mess. Did he just flirt with you? How did he just flirt with you? Jake gets embarrassed really easily and uses lame jokes but he managed to leave you speechless for once.

Nicholas whistled at Jake's comment, head nodding in approval at the boy's words. "Now you're getting the hang of it. Not long before you can ask them to prom."

"Wait, who are you gonna ask? Why didn't you tell me?" you whined, disappointed at the fact that you were once again the last to know anything in your circle but more so at Jake asking someone else to the prom.

"Someone he's had his eye on for a long time. Our man child here.." Sunghoon thumps Jake's back, making the poor boy let out a strangled voice, "has been desperate to ask out that special someone but held back scared of being rejected"

"And now, we have convinced him to ask them out to prom because it is the perfect time" Heeseung finished. "And you guys didn't bother to inform me? The audacity... I am forever disappointed in you. Friendship with you three is over. Now..." you look around for a familiar face and fortunately spotted Youngbin making his towards your table. "Youngbin is my best friend" you announced as you threw an arm around the clueless boy's shoulder who just took a seat next to you.

"Should I be concerned?" Youngbin questioned as he looked around the occupants of the table. “Y/N is not friends with us anymore and wants nothing to do with us” Nicholas dramatically sighs. “Now who will Jake ask to- “ before Nicholas could finish his sentence he yelped, glaring at a smiling Sunghoon who feigned innocence. 

“Ask me what?” you ask, curious about the words that were unfortunately not ble to surface from Nicholas. “Nothing”, Jake cleared his throat and sat up straight, glaring at Nicholas who gave him a sheepish smile. “Your homework so I can copy it” he hurriedly answered.

You were not surprised at his answer, it was a normal thing that he copied your homework, tweaking it in order to not raise suspicion or get caught by the teachers. “Yes of course, you’re only friends with me because I don’t say no to you and hence, you love taking advantage of my kindness” you replied, making the Australian boy click his tongue and wink at you. 

“I’m leaving now so I can complete the assignment before the bell rings” you announced, standing up. “See you all later” you left for your classroom, seeing the boys gather closer once you were out of ear shot. You rolled your eyes at the prospect of them discussing something which you’ll be the last one to know.

It was after school hours when you messaged your group chat to ask the whereabouts of your friends when you failed to find them. Turns out they all had some type of emergency or engagement they had to go to.  Leaving a few messages with colorful vocabulary directed towards your friends you left for your home.

Upon arriving you noticed that all the curtains were drawn which wasn’t a usual thing. Cautiously, you unlocked your door and peeked in just in case. What you weren’t expecting was Jake bossing around the guys. Telling Youngbin to blow up the balloons more, scolding Nicholas when he almost dropped the banner, scaring Heeseung with his abrupt commands while Sunghoon observed them from the couch, eating something which you couldn’t make out.

Your eyes met Sunghoon’s and he froze in the middle of eating, dropping whatever was on its way to his mouth. The both of you stared at each other for a few seconds more until it clicked in his brain who he was looking at. The boy jumped and ran towards Jake, whispering something in his ear. Jake, turned to face the door, taking in your presence with a panicked look. 

“Hey, Y/N...” he laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. You stepped inside to get a proper look at what the boys were up to in your own house. Nicholas was holding one end of the banner with Heeseung holding the other.

Jake’s words caught the attention of the other guys and now everyone was staring at you, standing frozen as if they had an encounter with Medusa. Before you could ask what the hell was going on inside your house, your eyes fell on the banner which read “PROM?” in big silver letters. “I assume this is for me?” 

The boys stayed silent as their gaze shifted from you to Jake. “We didn’t think you’d come home this early.” Jake spoke up. “You know, the first thing to ensure that the person for whom the surprise is meant for, is distracted by someone else long enough to prepare anything” you said, folding your arms. 

It was as if a light bulb was lit when the boys realized they forgot to execute an important part of the plan. Nicholas let go off his part of the end and jumped off the stool. “Well, now that you caught us and ruined your own surprise...all of our efforts and money have been wasted. He glared at you playfully. 

“At least Jake still has the chocolates he was going to give you originally before we decided to help him with this” Youngbin spoke up, his voice a bit strained due to the few balloons he had to blow. “Wait..” you turned to the embarrassed boy. “You were gonna ask me to the prom?” You couldn’t believe your eyes and ears when Jake nodded to your question. “I got these chocolates for you....” he walked to the table where he left the box of chocolates only to find out it was open and half eaten. 

Sunghoon avoided eye contact as Jake glared at him, looking guilty. “Hey, I thought they weren’t needed when we went with the big plan...and I was hungry...” he smiled bashfully. “You ate my chocolates!??” you couldn’t help but cry out, feeling miserable that you were deprived of your rightful treats.  “Any normal person would’ve wish you were dead but I can’t because I love you” , you huffed in annoyance. Sunghoon only smiled brighter, showing a peace sign.

“Hey, it’s not fair that I’m standing here with both of my plans unsuccessful to ask you to be my date and you saying ‘I love you’ to another guy, especially to the person who robbed you off your chocolates!” Jake complained, sulking. You couldn’t help but laugh at how adorable he looked while trying to look angry. “It’s the thought that counts, Jakey” you pointed out to make him feel better and not to think that his efforts went to waste. “you guys didn’t have to go through all of this, I would’ve said ‘yes’ with just the chocolates, you know”, you laughed, taking one of the few remaining chocolates and popping it in your mouth.

“You would’ve?” Jake’s eyes were wide, a light blush forming on his face. You hummed in agreement, enjoying the treats. “Besides...it’s not the gift that matters. It;s the person behind the gift” you add, winking at Jake, leaving him speechless for once.

[spirit-shroud]

i replayed kz again tonight and managed to beat it in 4 hrs instead of 11 !!! which is rly cool imo, i think i got a max of like 50 deaths or less for the full run ??? i was just playing regularly but usin the prism blade for the cool blood effects, not in speedrun mode for the counter, and i managed 2 drag my friend into hyperfixation hell with me :} but also i have some thoughts and opinions im not rly sure how to compile in a meaningful way, so here’s the like. pure brain-down-on-blog post version under the cut. if this gets auto-tagged into the real actual tag for this game im very sorry for my hubris im just. thinking emoji

so id like to start this with the final boss makes me SO sad :( like yeah she doesnt have much dialogue but idk she just makes me so sad. she’s so desperate and she Knows shes going to lose and im just like. no!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you’re so cool!!!!!!! Please Be My Friend We Can Work Together. I Know A Guy :c like usually final bosses are like weirdly emotional for me but she was just SO COOL and realizing like WAIT THIS BOSS OPERATES UNDER THE SAME RULES I DO was just like WOW even if as i kept dying (and i think i spent like... 3 hrs on the final boss alone lmao the first time, i killed her on my third attempt this run which was very cool of me) i finally realized that she IS pretty repetitive and got all her patterns n variables down super easy, but like, fighting another null who Should for all intents and purposes be just as absurd and powerful as i am, and eventually being able to down her effortlessly, and then the withdrawal affects of the chronos kicking in as well, and its just like. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

dont even get me STARTED on that ‘to be continued’ like yeah there’s a dlc comin but the game mentions repeatedly that its just the first act which has me like OKAY. SPECULATION TIME (what am i speculating on? literally no idea im not even rly at the speculation phase im still in the WOW COOL VIDEO GAME phase) 

and i rly like the dragon/fifteen but the first time i saw him i was just like. who’s this f*llmetal alchemist looking bitch ??? what’s he doin here?? go HOME and controlling him is AWFUL i hate the dragon tape so MUCH >:C but also he’s like. cool. i want to know more about him n his plot 2 take down Juncture n the government n whatever. 

but also i was listen 2 Full Confession bc it’s just. what the heart wants rn. i need to be sad and caffeinated in order to get into the Writing Zone rn and then i was THINKIN like my friend mentioned while we were playing the dragon tape that the song that plays is very similar to Full Confession (which i had sent him earlier while i was losing my mind over the final boss) and then i was like. Hm. these are very similar but have such wildly different moods -- Breath of the Serpent is much more like. ‘you’re going to be afraid of me’ while Full Confession is like ‘i’m afraid of you’ and i think that the different Vibes from these two soundtrack bits about important Null characters is just like. WOW and i wonder how a version of it that was purely Zero’s might be. would it be more triumphant? more flat? what desperation or emptiness is in there that could be drawn out by this melody??? i dont KNOW and i can’t write music unfortunately but im just like AAAAAAAAAA

i also rly wanna know what snow has going on ??? like. shes clearly important. she is a vital npc. but Why. she didnt even rly do anything except Show Up???

fuck V. all my homies hate V. the motorcycle fight was a lot of fun tho i rly liked that section even if my therapist was mad at me afterwards

also i think elizabeth/the little girl is rly cute and the fact zero was just like. ‘hm. well guess i have a daughter now’ so fast w/ her (at least, with the dialogue trees me n my pal kept going down) and im just. So Hoping we can rescue her in the dlc :( i miss her so much and im so like. worried abt that like pls give me back my daughter you dumbasses i cant even read ur dialogue without my brain being like ‘yeah these r just squiggly lines, boss. gl’ 

i also want to believe that the masked men arent real (bc idk, it’s just easier for me to process that they’re the result of chronos withdrawal) but the problem w/ that is like. they definitely kidnapped elizabeth, and i want so desperately to believe that elizabeth IS real n that zero genuinely wants to protect her (and by extension, the part of himself that is still human) 

ALSO THE PSYCHIATRIST i was just like. Okay. I Must Get A Good Grade In Therapy. n kept being nice n cooperative and helpful to this clown ass and then THAT ENDING ??? like i didnt even get the Bad Therapist Ending i was just like. fucka you! attacka you with a rock! (i do however want to try the therapist boss it sounds like a lot of fun) but i just. i hate him! he sucks! find a better therapist zero u rly need one im sorry for ur problems disorder :( like hes clearly a guy who just works for the government n wants 2 keep a leash on our man 

n the contradictions, hes like. yeah ur killing everyone related to chronos so it can no longer be produced ♥ but dw ur special we totally wont just withhold chronos from you as soon as u finish ur tasks dw about it ♥ and its like. Hm. I Dont Think Thats Right !!!! 

also i wanna learn more about what Juncture has going on??? what are they like. Doing besides poisoning water n making lighters ?????? it’s clearly a lot 

also the art for this game is just so GOOD,,, like. i didnt rly notice a lot of the backgrounds my first playthrough bc i was just losing my mind the whole time trying to solve each puzzle but the second playthrough im just like. AAAAA. and the soundtrack? effervescent. groundbreaking. perfect. So Good 

and the GAMEPLAY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! oh my GOD i was SO vibing with it, the difficulty curve was kinda extreme imo but as soon as i started like. Getting It? and started looking at each room less like combat/fighting and more like a puzzle that needed to be solved it made it so much easier 2 get into the headphase of ‘okay how do i clear this’ and it was just like. YOOOOOOOO

and zero is just a lot of fun 2 play as. legitimately everything about him is just so ridiculous. his dialogue options? ridiculous. his design? absurd. the implications that hes like. 22 and just having the worst 10 days of his life? mood, buddy. this guy likes samurai movies and card games and mushroom pizza and has worn the same outfit every single day for who knows how long and hes also a war veteran, an emotionless serial killer and a drug addict. and hes 22 and 5′10. literally NOTHING about those traits make sense together but here he is, just Vibing. 

i love him so much. im going to make a self insert oc that’s just giving him a friend who knows how to cook n is just like ‘oh wow, that’s rough buddy’ when hes like ‘i only feel alive when i kill people’ and conveniently knows how 2 get bloodstains out of things bc i think he needs that kind of person in his life since his like. therapist is conspiring against him n he keeps having 2 kill his friends 

also, unfortunately, i want to get every achievement, which i feel like is going to become hld....2!! where i get all but 1 of them and am stuck at 96% for 2+ years >:T

[robogreaser]

This is a Long Time Coming...

It’s been a relatively hard task to sit down and make sense of, well, a lot of things as of late. I could chalk it up to the state of the world, but it’s been troublesome for significantly longer than that.

Long Story Short Version: I’ve been in a hell of a place, mentally, physically, and otherwise.

The proper story is a hell of a lot more involved than that and I know damned right well it’s going to take me a fair bit to explain myself and my various professional and social failings over the past... while. I’m gonna try to contain this under a read more, of course, but I apologize to mobile users if tumblr fucks that up.

Okay. That took a fair more bit of effort to figure out than I remember. Which, I suppose, is a fair enough bit of a segue into one thing that’s happened to me.

Tumblr has been deteriorating.

Whether I like to admit it or not, tumblr has been my go to social media platform since... 2011. Yeah. I’ve spent the vast majority of the decade here. I’ve seen a lot. Sure, I’ve lurked elsewhere, but I really cannot stand the interface and nature of a lot of other social media, especially the likes of twitter. Unfortunately for me, this place has been in constant decline for years now at this point. It extends well beyond the porn ban, but that’s a whole separate discussion.

I’ve lost touch with a lot of people I care about, some vanishing into the ether, some ghosting me, some just drifting into other communities or onto other sites. I’ve come to terms with the majority of this. It’s been happening for a while. It’s the very nature of digital relationships. It hurt, and I do think it’s contributed to a fair bit of stress and depression that has resulted in my... withdrawal from online spaces. It’s not a major factor, but its here, it’s present, it’s a factor in all of this.

I’ll be honest in that, well, I’ve tried to make this post several times over the past several weeks and months. It’s hard. Talking about my issues, using ‘I’ and ‘me’ so much in a post... it’s a bit jarring. But I’ll try to suck it up.

It’s been ten years (god I fucking hate time) since I’ve graduated high school. Yeah. It’s a fair thing to say that, on reflection, that’s incredibly jarring. The vast majority of that time has been... relatively unstable. I spent a fair few years working on my book and my publishing journey, now all but scrubbed clean from this blog (more on that later) and... well... Trying to be an adult. I’ve applied to, gotten accepted, and had to withdrawn from my dream school twice in this time. I’ve had a fair few jobs, nothing worthy of my resume, and lost all of them in one form or another, whether being fired for retaliating to my shitty work conditions, or, well, quitting for the sake of my own health during this pandemic. There has been a lot of family troubles. I’ve been through a lot of... ‘varied’ living situations, some horrendous, some just stressful, some, like now, actually really good compared to the others. And for the past few years in particular, it’s been constantly one thing after another, nonstop.

In short, progress is slow, but it’s happening. I don’t care to delve into a lot of these sorts of personal details lest this get to a ridiculous length, but that’s the short of the stuff I’d rather gloss over.

I’ve been on a health... Let’s call it a journey. I’ve been on a health journey. Over the past few years I’ve gone through the long processes of being diagnosed with ADHD, discussing my options regarding my depression and anxiety, and finally getting myself on a medication regimen that works. And then, because the health care system is a joke, I was without insurance. I had been off my medication, an absolute lifesaver and release of burden on my garbage tier brain, for eighteen months. Until last week. I think it’s fair to say, between my revolving door of living situations, employment, and then being un-medicated in a continually more stressful environment... That this is the main reason I’ve been absent. I’ve had no focus. There were weeks where I had no drive to do anything outside of routine that others depended on. I had not only gone back to how I was before situating my mental health, but in some ways, found a worse state.

Finances have been slowly eating away at me. I had been working a part time retail job until November, which made decent enough money, but not nearly for the amount of work and responsibility I was handling. I got fired. I found work with one of the big, corporate postal services. The pay was phenomenal, but it began to actively destroy my health, mainly physically, but also mentally, especially considering I was working a graveyard shift. Eventually when I began having prolonged health issues there, and then a whole lot of the symptoms of covid-19, on top of them turning me down for an entry-level position outside of the package handling, I had to quit. This was shortly after the lockdowns, in early April, and I refuse to look back despite people like my parents insisting on me trying to get work there again. Sure, the pay was phenomenal compared to anything else I had until then, but I cant continue to sacrifice my health. As of now, I’m unemployed, and... well...

I’m working on my commission queue. It’s art. It’s stuff I’ve owed friends (luckily those who are incredibly understanding and good to me) for an embarrassing amount of time, even before moving to and from Oklahoma at the end of 2016. I’m terrified of being the person who is known for taking commissioners’ money and running.

I know, I’m not good at giving updates. I’m not good at a consistent work schedule. I’ve had numerous tech failings over the past few years that constantly slow my roll on any progress I have made. Hell, I’ve had files corrupt despite being two thirds of the way complete when transferring from one computer to another. I’ve lost my cable for my external hard drive. I’ve had my tablet go to hell and back multiple times. But I am working. I am trying. I am sitting down as often as I can between looking for work and managing family nonsense to try and get my workload tidied up.

Which... brings me to my next point. And one I’m rather... ashamed about.

I have used trello, infrequently, since taking on a large load of commissions, and despite not being faithfully updating it and checking back on it, and using it to it’s fullest potential, I had kept, at the minimum, a list of all the work I did owe people using it. Well. Dumbass me attempted to use a mobile app. In short, in an effort to try and make myself tech literate and allow me easier access to my queue, I ended up deleting it. Somehow.

I’ve gone through and slowly flagged all my paypal notices and various emails concerning my commissions. I’m putting it together again. I’m trying. Granted, I am damned sure I am going to be missing someone, somewhere, somehow. I know it. I’ve got a shit brain, and despite my need for organization and minimalism, I don’t put it past me to have missed something along the way.

If you have commissioned me, please, do not hesitate to reach out and contact me regarding your commission. I owe every last one of you a massive apology for my continued failure to produce what you have paid for.

More likely than not, I have a wip already started somewhere, and if not, I have a slew of reference and thumbnails already compiled together somewhere on my computers. I am not ignoring this work. It’s been painfully, embarrassingly slow. It’s been one obstacle after another. But I have every intention of doing this work, and, likely, upgrading the quality of the finished piece past what my commissioners have paid for simply because I do feel bad about the wait time.

I have been inexcusably unprofessional. I know this and I am working as best I can with the time and resources I have to correct it.

In a similar vein, as I mentioned before, I have slowly been cleaning up my rather unimpressive publishing attempts. I’ve gone through and cleaned this blog recently, deleting reference to my work by name and the process of trying to get myself published. I may have missed a few posts here and there, but for the most part I would like a clean slate in regards to building a social media platform surrounding my written work. And this is the part where... I am probably going to be the most upfront and honest with you reading this than I have been publicly before.

I am not ashamed of who I’ve been online these past ten years or so, but it reflects only a sliver of my personality, a sliver of who I am as a whole. I catered to a very specific subset of who I am in pursuit of finding acceptance in communities much larger than myself. I’ve learned a hell of a lot about myself in that time. I figured out what’s important to me, my health, my sexuality, my relationships and my long term goals. I’ve found a very important group of friends. I’ve found people who understand and empathize with a lot of the things I have been through, experience, and am at my core.

But the fact of the matter is, this hypersexual, sci-fi aesthetic-oriented, very open person is only a singular facet. And it is not nearly enough of a reflection of who I am, or who I want to be as a professional, public adult. Will I always be gay for robots? Yes. Will I, when time permits and creative energies are present, continue to make nsfw art? Absolutely. Will I always have a toe dipped in erotic literature and the like? Most likely.

But a lot of me, a lot of my emotion and strife and feelings regarding most things in the world, are completely separate from this. It’s separate from me liking porn on twitter or having a homestuck roleplay blog. It’s separate from who I am in real life, with my boyfriend or with my family or with my work. And I have been dwelling on this, sincerely, for a while. I need to allocate more energy into my life. The separate life offline and online too, where I am pursuing an actual professional career, because, at the end of the day, I want to be an author. I want to have a career telling stories. And, in my time online, I’ve found a lot of skeletons in authors’ closets, the kind that really put mine to shame, and the kind that will always be a footnote to their work. You know the ones.

I want my creative work to speak for itself. I want people to be able to enjoy what I do without a specter, without my time and energy having to explain to a future audience why it is I had explicit thoughts about x,y, and z. I want to be able to write a book, write many books, and have people enjoy them without a footnote about me, a person with a sexual life and a history exploring it through years of depression and isolation, clouding it. It’s not fair to my work. It’s not fair to a future reader. It’s not fair to me.

I’ve got several social media accounts made and slowly coming to life that I need to spend more time with as I try and pursue this new, second leg of a very long journey into publishing. I’m not going to link those here, now or in the future. It’s likely a few people I know and trust have access to them. But I am, effectively starting over from scratch trying to build a platform as a writer. And it’s hard. Juggling that, alongside all of the things in the world today, alongside family and my relationships, alongside my commission queue? It bears down on me and if I didn’t have experience handling more than one thing at a time, I might trip up more frequently. Hell, I forget to post and use those new accounts regularly.

But I’m trying.

I’m not moving away from my current social circles or hobbies or anything like that. I’m not abandoning any fandom or friends or communities. But I am going to be trying to balance myself more thoughtfully moving forward, past just commissions, past just writing.

I’m here. I’m moving forward, slowly but surely, and I am making an effort to improve.

[sign-from-god-complex]

take care

Summary: Roman is bad at self-care, especially when he's struggling with video ideas, and so Logan takes it into his own hands to make sure he’s properly looked after. And if maybe he went a bit overboard? Well, Roman deserved it.

Pairing: Logince

Warnings: Bad self-care (not eating or showering for an extended period of time) and a tiny bit of negative self-talk.

A/N: Every so often my brain will just want me to write the fluffiest, softest, most sappy thing it can think of. The last piece of writing produced from that was “The Purpose of Marriage, To Know That You Are Loved��� and the next one is this, so here you go. Maybe it’s out of character, but maybe sappy, fluffy, dumbass logince is underrated and we should have more of these flustered idiots.

And hey! I finally wrote some logince!!! Took me long enough honestly.

Tag list <333: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard

AO3 Link

Roman couldn't think of a single creative idea.

Things had been pretty stressful for everyone recently, really. Thomas had done quite a bit of socialising over the last couple weeks, meeting up with old friends and trying to spend time with some newer ones, and it was reaching the point where even Roman was getting exhausted.

However, the unfortunate truth was that videos needed to be made no matter how busy Thomas's schedule became. Roman couldn't afford time off to relax, not when there was still so much to do before they were able to upload the next video. The fans were getting impatient and he absolutely needed to do right by them, but no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't come up with anything good!

Roman had casually pitched two or three ideas to the other sides over the course of the week, and every single one had been shot down for one reason or another. It was either too expensive, or there wasn't enough material, or it was too similar to something that they'd already done, etc. etc.

And those were just the ideas Roman had suggested; Roman had been brainstorming on and off for two weeks. Nothing he thought of was good enough and the increasing pressure as he became more and more aware of his time running out was not helping the situation in the slightest.

He scrunched up the notebook page he'd been writing on and flung it at all the wall, watching as it bounced for a moment before landing with the other scraps of paper he'd launched in that direction. Could they make a video related to throwing balls of paper around? No, Thomas was terrible at throwing things with any sense of accuracy, and anyway, that was hardly an idea. You can't make a video out of that.

Roman let his head fall against the desk—hard enough that he felt it, but not hard enough that he was giving himself permanent brain damage (like he needed any more obstacles in the way of a good idea). He let out a groan, hands coming up to tug at his hair. This was ridiculous! He was creativity! He should be able to do better!

No, he was sure he was able to do better. He just had to keep trying.

There was the distant sound of the door opening behind him as Roman began writing down more words in the hopes of sparking something. A video to do with... fruit? Something similar to the "No Sugar" Awkward Adventures video, but with eating fruit? No, that was a terrible idea. What about another Disney mashup? Shit, no, they just did one of those. They couldn’t-

"Roman...?"

Roman turned around at the sound of his name, aware that he likely looked absolutely atrocious. He hadn't slept all night—too busy brainstorming—and he couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a shower, which was honestly disgusting if he thought too long about it.

In the door stood his boyfriend, cautiously adjusting his glasses as he took in the scene before him. Roman, feeling self-conscious about the state of his room and the state of his attire, suddenly wished he'd had the forethought to lock his door. Not only would it have prevented this exact scenario, but it also would have resulted in less potential distractions. Ugh, what an idiot he was! It seemed he couldn't get anything right recently.

Logan's brow was furrowed and Roman wanted to go over there and kiss his forehead to smooth it out, prompting that fond look Roman so adored. He didn't get up though, too aware of the fact that it had been over a day since he'd eaten and if he passed out now Logan would never let him hear the end of it.

"Are you quite alright?" Logan asked, eyes bouncing around the room for a moment before landing on Roman.

Roman gave a facsimile of a confident smile. "I'm perfectly fine, my love! Just thinking through some new ideas, you know how it is."

As Logan crossed his arms, quirking a single unamused eyebrow at him, Roman knew that he was caught. Well, it’d been a good run. So much for doing YouTube because Logan was going to force him to rest and Roman was never going to have another good idea ever again. Thomas was going to lose every single one of his subscribers and they were all going to die because Roman couldn't come up with one creative idea.

"I know that look," Logan said, making his way over to Roman's desk, "You're catastrophising again. Stop that. You're not Virgil; you do not need to act as if the world is going to end with every minor inconvenience."

Roman threw his hands into the air and Logan ducked back to avoid being inadvertently punched in the face. "This is not some 'minor inconvenience', Logan! This is my entire purpose! If I can't bring inspiration to Thomas then what in the world am I good for?!"

Logan gathered up Roman's hands into his and brought them to his chest. Then, slowly, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to Roman's.

It was delicate and affectionate and Roman felt his entire body collapse, hands tugging away from Logan's grip to wrap behind his neck. After a moment, Logan pulled away. He hovered his face in front of Roman's and Roman watched as he scrunched up his nose.

"You really need to brush your teeth."

In a different scenario, Roman might have thought that Logan looked adorable when he pulled that face, but as it was, he was too busy being offended. To be fair, Logan was definitely right—brushing his teeth was another one of those things that’d been thrown to the wayside during his brainstorming—but he still shouldn't say it.

Logan straightened up and stared at Roman with a contemplative look.

"Come," he said, grabbing Roman's arm and dragging him in the direction of the bathroom, "We're going to get you cleaned up and then you're going to get some rest, and tomorrow I will help you with your next brainstorming session."

Roman raised his eyebrows. He'd been expecting the first part of course, but Logan virtually never helped with brainstorming. He said he found it too creative and unstructured for his liking and instead preferred to come in in the planning stages since that was when he was the most helpful. Logan had probably realised just how badly things were going for him—and his boyfriend wasn’t the most perceptive person, so Roman must really look terrible.

As they entered the bathroom, Roman realised for the first time just how exhausted he truly was. He let himself be positioned on the closed toilet lid as Logan began running a bath, meticulously running his hands through the water every so often to check that the temperature was appropriate.

Roman always favoured extremely hot baths and showers—as opposed to Logan, who mostly took showers that almost bordered on freezing—so when Logan winced as he put his hand into the water, Roman knew he'd found the right temperature.

After prompting him to brush his teeth, Logan went to gently remove Roman’s top. Roman was glad for the first time that he wasn’t wearing his usual princely attire; that shirt was a bitch to get on and off. He stood shakily as Logan went to tug down his sweatpants and as Logan pulled his underwear off, Roman looked down and gave him a wink.

Logan rolled his eyes. “You are extraordinarily fatigued and overworked, Roman. As if either of us could be thinking about sex at a time like this.”

“You underestimate me, darling,” Roman smirked—or at least he attempted to, but his face wasn’t doing any of the things he wanted at the moment.

Logan just gave a breathy laugh before helping Roman into the bath, kneeling at his side as he settled himself.

Roman sighed deeply and closed his eyes, the warmth of the bath seeping into his bones and establishing a home under his skin. He could hear Logan running something through the water beside him and he was startled slightly by the feeling of water running over his hair.

He opened his eyes to see Logan filling up a mug—Roman’s, with cartoon birds on it—with the bath water, before pouring it carefully over the back of Roman’s head. Logan pushed his hand through Roman’s wet hair before cupping his cheek and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Roman only had a moment to grumble that Logan was stealing his move before Logan whispered, “Shut your eyes, love. Let me worry about everything for now, alright?”

Logan didn’t use pet names very often, so Roman felt his blush was entirely justified. He did as Logan asked, however. It was hard to give up control—especially when he was as stressed as he was—but if there was one person Roman trusted to take care of him, it was Logan.

The bath passed in a haze of warmth and gentle fingers running over his skin. Occasionally Logan would murmur something under his breath, but Roman was too lost in complete exhaustion to really process any of it.

Once the bath had ended, Logan wrapped him in a big fluffy towel and tried to pat him dry, Roman lazily moving his limbs in a weary attempt to help out. He shivered slightly from exposure to the cold air and silently wished Logan would hold him until he was warm again.

“Here,” Logan said, presenting Roman with a set of pyjamas—and when had he had the time to get those?—”Put these on. I will be back momentarily.”

Roman watched Logan slip out the door before holding up the pyjamas to take a closer look.

Logan had grabbed his favourite pair of pyjama pants, decided upon as not only were they incredibly soft, but they matched his aesthetic perfectly—red and covered in cartoons of little gold crowns. Roman couldn’t exactly remember who’d given them to him. However, he had a vague memory of preteen Roman receiving them as a Christmas gift, followed by him immediately putting them on and not changing out of them for a week.

In place of the matching pyjama shirt, however, Logan had given him a hoodie. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be one of Logan’s two hoodies—the blue one Roman got paint splatters on. He chuckled lightly. His boyfriend was a dork. To his credit though, Roman was known to “borrow” items of clothing from Logan on occasion, and this hoodie was very cozy. Plus it smelled like Logan—like pine and paper and clean and safe and home (and probably a little bit like paint).

By the time Roman had thrown the clothes on, Logan had returned. He grabbed Roman’s hand, trying to carefully maneuver them across the bathroom floor to avoid stepping in any puddles and Roman could feel his face heating up again. It was silly to feel as flustered as he was over something that small, but his boyfriend was treating him so gently and he just couldn’t help it.

As they reentered Roman’s bedroom his blush only intensified.

The entire room felt transformed.

His bed had been made, adorned with layers of fluffy blankets (with some around the headboard so he could wrap them around his shoulders if needed) and his laptop laying in the centre. The piles of scrunched up paper littered around his desk had been removed and instead, his desk was clean with his notebooks stacked into a neat pile. And on his bedside table sat two mugs and a plate of toast, with what Roman would assume was Crofter’s spread on top.

But the most wondrous thing was that the lights were dimmed, any brightness he could see instead emanating from fairy lights that had been strung up around almost every surface. Roman also spotted a few candles and he could smell the faint scent of rose filling the room.

It was soft and awe-inspiring and Roman was absolutely astounded.

“You… did all this for me?”

Roman ripped his eyes away from the scene in front of him to face his boyfriend. Logan was watching him with an attentive look, eyes flitting up and down Roman’s face, seemingly searching for something. He must have found it because he cut his gaze away, ducking his head slightly.

“I had some help from Patton and Virgil, but I thought a more pleasing and relaxing environment would be conducive to helping you “unwind,” so to speak,” Logan said, failing to hide his blush in the wake of the adoring look Roman was sure he was giving him, “I also felt it imperative to bring you something to eat, as the likelihood that you were keeping up the recommended- mmph!”

Roman crashed his lips into Logan’s, cutting off whatever speech he had planned about Roman’s terrible eating habits. His chest was warm as he wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist, pulling them closer together and he smiled a little into the kiss.

Logan might seem at first glance like he doesn’t show any kind of affection. His endearments were sparing and though he may put up with Roman’s incessant need for physical contact, he rarely initiated anything himself. However, to claim that his boyfriend was uncaring would be—to borrow a term from Logan—an absolute falsehood.

Logan showed his affection in much more subtle ways that Roman did, and since the beginning of their relationship, Roman had learnt to look for them.

Logan liked to be helpful. If there was something you had to do but didn’t necessarily want to, Logan would almost always be willing to assist you. On occasion, he would even do the entire task for you, citing that “it wasn’t a big deal” and “it was really more for my sake than yours” in order to save face. Roman saw through that though, exactly the same way Logan saw through him.

On top of being helpful, Logan also just appreciated spending time with the people he cared about. He didn’t need to be doing anything in particular, more often than not Logan was simply reading, but his passive company almost meant more than his active company.

More than once Logan had arrived in Roman’s room, apropos of nothing, and sat down on Roman’s bed to continue his Agatha Christie novel. This usually occurred when Roman was working, so Roman would simply resume his work, distantly aware of Logan’s presence behind him as he did so.

Not a single word would be spoken between them until Patton called them down for dinner, but regardless, Roman would feel closer to Logan somehow. He knows how important time alone is for Logan. His boyfriend regularly gave up his personal private time to be around him instead and it made Roman almost giddy to think about what that really meant.

Looking at this evening through that filter, Logan’s actions were a blatant declaration of love. And so he’d responded the most Roman way he knew how.

He drew away, watching as Logan’s eyes fluttered open, the shock on his face made even more evident by the blush covering his cheeks. Roman wanted to kiss him again almost immediately, but he managed to refrain.

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Logan.”

Roman whispered the words into the small space between them and watched as Logan’s face went through about 5 different iterations of pleased and shocked, before settling on poorly faked indifference. Roman tried his best not to laugh; it really would have ruined the moment.

Logan cleared his throat. “Yes, well… you’re welcome, of course.”

Roman pulled his boyfriend over to the bed, instantly getting comfy under the blankets and ordering Logan to do the same—more because Roman wanted to use him as a pillow than anything else. In return, Logan handed Roman the toast, insisting that he eat. As he began to do so, despite his protests that he’d rather not get crumbs on his bed, Logan pressed play on the Disney movie he’d set up on Roman’s laptop.

Crofters, cuddles and Disney. God, his boyfriend knew him too well.

By the time the movie had finished, the toast was long since eaten, the hot chocolate Patton had supplied had been drunk and Roman was on the verge of falling asleep. His head was resting on Logan’s chest, Logan tracing patterns delicately over all the skin he could reach and Roman could feel himself tearing up slightly from all the emotions he held.

He let his eyes fall shut. “I love you.”

Roman faintly recognised that it was the first time either of them had said it from a romantic standpoint, but sincerely it didn’t matter because it was so overwhelmingly true that Roman just couldn’t keep it to himself anymore.

Roman could feel Logan stiffen underneath him before relaxing with an exhale.

“I love you too.”

And he’s sure that in the morning Logan will have some kind of lecture prepared about not being able to come up with creative ideas if you don’t take care of yourself first and foremost, but Roman wasn’t thinking about that. That was for tomorrow’s Roman to worry about.

No, for now, Roman simply let his awareness of his boyfriend’s breathing—the sound of his heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his chest—lull him into a peaceful, dream-filled sleep.

[undadasea]

i’m so sorry

[feel199x]

gang member!au, gang member! han jisung, florist! reader, underground band!au

chapters: I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X masterlist

song rec: dayfly by dean & half moon

warnings: angst, gun mention

”Miinho,” Jisung swung his legs off the bed, ignoring the shooting pain he felt, “What’s going on?”

“Someone’s coming, that dickhead from N/S.”

“How? He never did before.”

“I don’t know!”

“Then how do you know?”

“___ called.”

“What? Are they okay? I miss ___ so much, Minho please-”

“We don’t have time!”

Minho had no idea what state you were in, and if you were dead- how was he supposed to explain that to Jisung? That you had traded your life for theirs? Minho didn’t even understand, and he doubted that Jisung would either. Maybe it was wrong, but telling him wouldn’t be right either. God, how could he? When Minho heard him talking in his sleep, talking about you, dreaming about you, how could he? At least not now, he knew how Jisung was- emotional and impulsive. Everyone was down in their backup hideout, Chan and Woojin being smart enough to at least suspect that their location would be compromised. They had nearly forgotten about him and his condition after hearing the voicemail you had left. Minho was glad he had taken Jisung’s phone, and even more content that he was nosy. If he hadn’t checked the voicemail, who knows how this situation would end.

“Can you walk?”

“Yes.”

Minho watched as Jisung stumbled, hands gripping the nightstand. Minho pulled Jisung, and leaned, helping Jisung get on his back. It wasn’t the most graceful, but it worked.

“Fucking liar. Do you think now is the time to be macho?”

The cellar was deep underground, damp and dark- rotten. The wood of the stairs was wet, splinters sticking out like split-ends. Deep under the earth, hidden from all good and bad to sit in true neutrality. It smelled like wet earth too, but not the fresh smell- the kind where you knew there was something rotting underneath. It was under the house still, but a lot harder to find than one would expect. There was an unspoken hatred for the fact that they were all there, the mess they had found themselves into you and the heat of hatred was rising, boiling over.

“You could have gotten killed. You need to be smarter.”

Chan had his arms crossed, tapping his foot like a mother whose child was late for curfew

“He’s here, isn't he?”

“That’s not the problem, Minho- You had one job. You know they’re here for Jisung.”

Felix spoke up from the back of the room, a scowl on his face. It wasn’t personal Minho knew, but he still thickened the tension in the room.

“Shove that self-righteousness up your ass, Felix. Do you know how much he weighs?”

“Oh, suck-”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!”

Chan pushed both of the boys away from one another, knowing there was no way this could end well. The boys glared at one another, but backed off- it wasn’t worth it.

“I have an idea.”

“Finally putting those two brain cells to work, huh?”

 The nine of them had never fought before, all these years together had run rather smoothly- some petty quarrels here and there, but never anything serious. But then again, they had never been in a situation like this before, and it was pushing their unity and friendship to the limits. They had to snap from frustration at some point.

“The fuck is your problem?”

“Everyone told you to be careful! Literally what kind of shit luck do we have that you had to fall in love with a gang member’s manic pixie dream girl?”

“His what?”

“His wet dream, you dumbass!”

“Are you seriously trying to blame me for this? Instead of, I don’t know, feeling bad for ____ since the guy is fucking nuts?”

Changbin wasn’t one to get particularly vocal about his anger, he had a temper- everyone knew, but for him to snap at a friend? That was something else. Whenever Changbin got angry, he would always opt to isolate until he cooled down- never, never had he snapped at any of them. Changbin was soft, and never wanted to hurt anyone, even if he did get angry fairly easily. But for both Jisung and Changbin to be at each other’s necks? Never.

“You should’ve left. It’s always been nine or none.”

“We are all they had!”

 Changbin’s face softened at the realization and took a deep breath. Jisung was right, this wasn’t your fault- and there was no one to blame except the kingpin of N/S. It was an unfortunate situation they found themselves, one consequence piling on top of each other like dominoes until they piled up into the mess they currently found themselves in.

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“We’re all just stressed, Jisung.”

Chan would’ve cut in earlier, but if Changbin had something to say- then he would let them vent. Changbin would never get physical, he knew. But if he had, then they had all already lost. There would be no way that any of them could cooperate if they would get physical over a slip of words.

“I don’t care, none of this is their fault. I don’t want to hear one word of blame- none of you know what they’ve been through.”

The room was beginning to become hot, but the tension in the air was fading as everyone let go of irrational anger.

“What was your idea?”

“My idea? Made with my two humble brain cells?”

Jisung lightened the mood, and everyone began to close in together- wanting to listen to Jisung’s plan. Things weren’t normal, far from it in fact, but at least they were all together. At least they had each other, at least they had unity. That was something that no music producer, no fight, no gang leader could take away. That’s what love was for them, unity against all storms, like roots of a tree- strong winds only made them stronger.

“We need something, anything.”

They pulled at their shirts, both unaware and pained by the room’s growing heat. They didn’t realize it yet.

“Why don’t we just kidnap the guy?”

“That would make us just as bad as him, Jisung we-”

“I think it’s a good idea.”

Woojin always agreed with Chan, they shared opinions on most things- and it made for a good co-leadership. They worked well together, but most importantly, Woojin was never one for violence. Chan turned to Woojin in surprise, shooting him a questioning look and scanning the room for their response.

“We don’t have to hurt him-”

“Just use him.”

“Fuck, it’s hot.” Changbin pulled at his black t-shirt as it stuck to his skin with sweat.

“Wow, she’s-” Changbin shot Hyunjin a warning look and Hyunjn quieted, an amused look on his face despite the situation.

“Shut the fuck up, we need to get out.”

“You think he’s gone?”

“Look.”

“Oh shit. Shit!”

 It was less than image and more of a smell, black smoke found it’s way from the cracks of the door, rising up and smogging up the air. The bar was hot as Chan forced it open, a sting lingering on his hand. The boys filed outside, stopping to look at the small house beginning to envelop itself in flames. The ancient wood was burning easily and quickly turning black as the fire reaching higher and higher, the crisp air fueling it. Jisung was clenching his jaw, eyebrows furrowed in anger and distaste. When did things go so wrong? He knew the flower-shop break in was the turning point, but how did he let it get like this? He wanted to cry, out of anger or sadness he didn’t know. Was it guilt or was it blame, did he wasn to carry a burden or point a finger? How could he know? All he wanted was to get back to you.

“Hyunjin, go with Felix and find the guys.” Chan wasn’t happy about sending them off to search, but it would be less likely that they would feel threatened if they thought only two boys were at home. “Alone, are fucking crazy?”

“You both have guns.” It was risky, Chan knew, but as much as he hated it- a risk had to be taken. They couldn’t all go guns blazing for a threat that they weren’t sure they still had to make a decision, and fast.

“You don’t actually-”

“No.”

“It would be self-defense anyway.”

Minho wasn’t trying to be rude, but realistic- comforting in a weird way. He knew that the situation that they found themselves in, and he wasn’t trying to make it any words by getting in a petty brawl.

“Oh fuck off with the cynical bull-shit.”

Minho turned to Felix slightly surprised.

“Oh, I’m surprised you know that word! Good for you.”

“Can you guys shut the fuck up? The house is fucking burning.” Seungmin cut in distractedly, watching the house burn from the top down. Thank god for the voicemail. Everyone waited anxiously for the duo to return. Jeongin turned around the corner to see that there was only singular car there. The N/S kingpin clearly didn’t think it through, he had underestimated them before- how could he make the same mistake again? Jeongin called the rest of the boys over as he saw Felix and Hyunjin return with a trio of guys.

“We found them.”

“Chan, what do we do?”

The trio of guys kneeled down in front of Chan. Any worry that showed on Chan’s face slipped away as he gave a firm punch to the middle man’s face. Like Woojin, Chan wasn’t one for violence. But unlike Woojin, Chan was good at it.

“Are you going to tell us where your boss lives?”

It was a gruesome scene to see Chan twist the man’s broken nose as he muttered out a weak “Yes!” Chan let go, hand splattered with blood.

“Great, I’d really hate to hurt anyone anyway. I promise to not let the cops know.”

“We’re going to call the cops?”

“Is that a good idea?”

Chan turned to the boys, having enough of their petty quarreling and questioning, and if Chan lost it- it wasn’t going to be pretty for anyone.

“Who’s gonna tell them what we did? Not these guys, they’re ratting out a kingpin to save themselves.”

“Is that such a good idea though?”

Everyone watched as Seungmin pressed Chan’s buttons, and Changbin added: “Maybe it’s time we’ve paid for our sins.” It was an unspoken feeling in the group, a sense of guilt and manipulation that resided in them ever since they had started selling. They owed a lot of their success to the drugs they sold, and it seemed like they were less of artists because of it. “None of us are innocent.” Felix only muttered, but it was true to them. “I never wanted this-” Chan was beginning to break, his voice wavering and they stopped. They lead the trio of men back to the car, and quietly listened to their instructions. Driving away from the house going up in flames.

 “We could leave this life behind, we have the funds, the fans-” It was sort of plea, a wish rather than a fact that came from Hyunjin’s mouth, and Jeongin finished his wishful thinking, becoming an escapist himself. “It could be over. It could finally all be over.”

The car ride was quiet. Everyone anxious about your state of being, they opted against calling the number back- it wasn’t safe after all. But there was no way to know how you were, and what he could’ve done.  

“We’ve been in this car for too fucking long.”

“Are you complaining?”

“What? No! I’m not an asshole. I’m just saying it’s been a while.”

“He really went out of his way, huh?”

The car ride hadn’t been long, but long enough for Felix to get restless- he was just the most vocal about his discomfort. It was his way of making things seem more normal than they were, sugarcoating their bitter reality. And most of them were thankful, but as the GPS announced their distance shortening, Chan grew worried about Jisung. “Jisung?” He was staring out the window, his anger towards the kingpin simmering.“What?” His voice came out harsher than he expected, voice strained with anger- he had practically hissed at Chan. “You should stay calm. We don’t know what state they’ll be in…” Woojin nodded, prompting to add: “Or what he’s done-”

“We don’t know what he’s told them either.” Chan finished.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay, sure, but I’m just saying. Stay in control.”

“I said I’m fine. I know you guys mean well, but I’m good.”

The little flag appeared on the GPS’s screen and the robotic voice announced that they had arrived at their destination it was suddenly becoming real, too real. They were in the middle of nowhere, but the house was prestigious. It was big, too big. It was a complete juxtaposition to the surrounding greenery. It looked out of place. “We’re here, I think. We are here, right?” Chan parked the car and turned to face the men, and they nodded, the man in the middle covered his face. “I want to go in alone,” Jisung announced as he opened the door, nervously looking at the large house.  “Fuck no.” Minho threw open the door from his side of the car.  “Someone has to stay.”

“We can just lock the car. We already took their guns.”

“Oh.”

Chan locked the car they were all crammed in, and left the trio of men inside. The door took some time to open without force. But with a little coaxing, the door finally opened. Without a word, they took their guns out of the waistband of the pants or short. They split up, a group of three going in each direction of the large house. Jisung, Chan, and Woojin made their way up the stairs- finding blood spots going up the stairs, some of it pooling in some places. Jisung’s heart was in his throat, he thought he was going to throw up. He almost stumbled into the living room, and Chan pulled him back by the collar of his shirt behind the wall.

“You’re a little brat aren’t you? A little piece of shit. You ruin everything. I will burn this house down before I let you go.” You were on your knees before him, whimpering and shaking, crying as he dragged a pocket knife across your collarbone. You were already bleeding from the back of your head, streaming down your back again. You were getting dizzy from the blood loss, your vision fading. Jisung was wide awake adrenaline spilling into his veins. It wasn’t right seeing you like this. This is what you must’ve felt when you wanted to go back to your flower shop, knowing you could be risking your life, risking everything. It was something deep and primal, almost animalistic inside of him. He could feel himself choking back tears, a lump caught in his throat.

“Jisung, you have to wait.”

“Wait for him to fucking kill them?”

“We have to wait until he’s away from ___. Otherwise, he might, panic and actually kill them.”

Jiusng watched from behind the wall, hands in fists, fingers traveling to reach for his handgun. Maybe Chan had a point, they had to be calculating and rational.

“You’re going to have to make it up to me, and you know how don’t you? Be a good girl.” He dragged the knife up your neck and to the point of your chin.

“Oh, fuck this.”

Jisung pulled out his handgun from the waistband of his sweatpants. It replayed in his head, the night you got taken away. How helpless, how useless he felt as you were dragged out of the store. You could feel a shooting pain up his leg like high voltage electricity, but he walked still, doing his best to make his way towards you. Jisung heard Chan curse under his breath and pull his gun out too, his waistband snapping as he pulled it out harshly.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“Oh shit. Shit. Don’t fucking move. I swear to fuck I’ll kill them right here.” He pulled you by the hair, holding you head up by it as you toppled over, too weak to keep yourself up. Out of your spotty vision, you made out a figure as familiar as your flowers.

“Jisung...please.”

He could hear the pain in your voice, and it made him angrier. The gun pointing directly towards your captor’s head. “You’re outnumbered. You don’t actually think there’s a scenario where you win right?” Chan spoke out loudly, hands on his own gun.

“I don’t have to. I’ll take them down with me.”

“Chan, the police.” Woojin whispered as soon as he heard the faint sirens and the rest of the boys piled in. Realizing that there was no way to get out of this alive, he let the knife slip across your throat before plunging it into his stomach. There was barely anytime for anyone to react. You and the kingpin collapsed to the floor as he let go of you hair. You heard the gun clatter, Jisung holding your to torso, covering your neck as it sputtered blood.

“Oh fuck, fuck! Get a towel or something, please. Oh god, ____, c’mon stay with me. Please. Just to the hospital, you can make it until then, please.”

“You know….what flowers to put on... my grave, right, ‘sungie? It might... be selfish to say this... now but, I love you. I’m in... love with you... Han Jisung.”

The blood on his hands was warm, he was covered in a mess of it. It was all over the marble floor now, a maroon pool flooding the floor. Jisung wasn’t in control, he never had control over anything. It seemed so futile, like everything he had done in vain. Chan brought towels to cover the wound and clean up the floor, but the towels became tinted and heavier. Chan was desperately ripping fabric to try to stop the bleeding and Minho flew down the stairs to call the medics in. Woojin’s attention was on your captor, holding him back as he watched you. He was bleeding too, but not nearly at a fast of rate as you. Jeongin had your head in his lap, stroking your hair. He and Seungmin began singing you a song.

“You’re not gonna die. Oh fuck, fuck! Chan! You’re not- shut up, Jeongin!  You can’t- your flowers come on, please. Just a few more minutes. I can hear the sirens- you can do it, oh fuck! There’s so much blood, Chan, what do we do? There has to be something, you can’t just- I love you so much. You’re so cold- why are you so cold? Please, it’s selfish, but just hold on. Chan, there’s so much blood- make it stop, oh god, fuck make it stop, please.”

You were the bird from the playground, plummeting towards the earth and there was nothing he could do. He tightened his fingers around yours, as cold as they were, trying to bring some heat to your body. He ignored the blood staining his shirt, and the medics pulled him away from you, prying his fingers off. The police came in and pulled your ex away, even as he screamed and thrashed, trying to make his way towards you. Jisung followed you down.

“Please, please, help- you have to, they’re so good- please, promise?”

Pinky promise? It echoed in his head.

They wouldn’t, they couldn’t.

a/n: haha gotcha there’s one chapter left (im sorry please dont be mad)

[whentherewerebicycles]

some thoughts on writing and dreaming

“one of my best friends from college is applying to English phd programs right now and it is SUCH a fascinating experience to talk to her about it/watch her go through the process, because i’m leaving the thing that she’s about to start and it’s making me reflect on my own experience in some really interesting ways. like not just reflecting on the experience of grad school itself (which i will probably spend the rest of my life sorting through), but also just trying to remember about what i knew about academia beforehand and what i thought it meant to do a phd when i was applying. (i knew nothing lol.)

anyway we just facetimed about the first draft of her statement of purpose and had an interesting conversation about how to approach writing job letters/personal statement type stuff, and i want to record like.. the beginnings of two thoughts that i’d like to develop into longer/more coherent posts someday. (EDIT: i decided to break it up into two separate posts because they sort of wandered away from each other.) this one is a long reflection on writing that begins with a thought on personal statements/the personal essay and then evolves into some different kinds of thoughts about writing and teaching.

one of the things we talked about in our call today about was how to not think about the statement of purpose (or personal statements of any kind) purely as an effort to meet a checklist of qualifications, or an effort to “prove” that you are smart enough to do the degree. instead i was suggesting that personal essays are often most valuable and engaging to read when they are giving the reader a glimpse into what your mind looks like at work. something i see a lot working with students on college essays or grad school applications is that their initial drafts are very much “i don’t know if i’m smart enough for this so i need to prove to you all of my qualifications and try to hide or bullshit the parts of my candidacy that i think are weaker” in tone.

unfortunately, that approach tends to produce writing that is very generic and lifeless. the answer to this problem, in my opinion, is NOT to bluster more or to adopt a fake-it-till-you-make-it attitude. (i could write for a million years about my issues with fake-it-till-you-make it, but will save that for a diff post.) that kind of writing often reads just as false, because nobody knows anything and we are all dumbasses and if you were an expert already, why would you be applying to a program to teach you how to do stuff! also as a teacher/human, i find that it feels Bad to encourage kids to adopt that kind of tone, because my goal is actually NOT to produce more blustering, posturing mansplainers, it’s to help kids learn to listen, to be intellectually humble, to accept that their own knowledge is incomplete, and to be curious about learning more.

so something i try to help my students do is to let go of the concept of audience, or to sort of hold it loosely for a while. that can seem very counterintuitive to them (because aren’t they supposed to be writing to a faceless committee of adults who will judge their qualifications and deem them worthy/not worthy?) and it can sometimes seem counterintuitive to me, bc i am a writing teacher and writing is an effort to communicate with a world outside of your own brain. but sometimes when you are thinking too much about your audience (”will they like me? will they think i’m smart enough?”) you end up wallowing in projected anxieties and insecurities and you lose sight of the things that make you you, your values, beliefs, irritations, fascinations, weirdo brain things, etc.

ive written/thought a lot in the past couple years on this blog about emotional reactivity and especially about what happens to our thinking processes when we get anxious or defensive. we enter into this cramped fearful headspace where we are physically & emotionally incapable of sinking into a thought or letting ourselves explore ideas in an open, curious, nonjudgmental way. and so part of creating good writing -- by which i mean writing that is honest, open, curious, engaged, of use to ourselves and other people -- is finding ways to let ourselves relax into thought, to unlearn that cramped defensive posture. i have been thinking a lot about audre lorde as i plan my fall classs (i am always thinking about audre lorde tbh, she is one of those writers who i feel like i live with instead of read), and i keep returning to this passage from her essay “poetry makes something happen”:

Poetry is the way we help give name to the nameless so it can be thought. The farthest external horizons of our hopes and fears are cobbled by our poems, carved from the rock experiences of our daily lives, honestly felt. For our feelings are the sanctuaries and spawning grounds for the most radical and daring of our ideas. Right now I could mention at least ten ideas I might have once found intolerable or frightening except as they came after dreams or poems. For poetry is not only dream and vision, it is the skeleton architect of our lives.

this passage is so emotionally rich but the aspect of it i’ve been returning to lately is the idea of dreaming -- poetry as dreaming, writing as dreaming; dreaming as a habit of mind. there is something so beautiful to me about the idea that writing is a form of dreaming, and/or that dreaming should be at the center of how we think about what it means to write and what writing can do.

i don’t know, i want to come back to this later when i’m near the beginning of my emotional energy for the day instead of at the very end. but to try to record the beginnings of the thought here: letting go of the concept of audience helps us let go of the cramped anxiety of having to prove ourselves; helping ourselves relax from that cramped defensive posture allows us to think and dream in more open, curious ways; and dreaming, or writing as a form of dreaming, opens us up to new truths about who we are and to a new sense of the possibilities for who we might become. sometimes letting go of the concept of the audience is what we need to get in touch with ourselves; and instead of closing us off from the world or making us narcissistic, navel-gazing thinkers who can’t see outside our own preoccupations, an open-minded exploration of our own minds and feelings opens us up to the world in new ways, and makes us want to look outward, to find out if other people feel as we do, if their dreaming looks like our dreaming or is different.

we all have amazingly different sensibilities as readers and thinkers, and one thing that i have realized through working with many, many, many students on personal essays is people overestimate how much of their private inner world or their way of thinking through a problem looks like other people’s. like obviously humans are prone to similar kinds of cognitive biases yada yada and the basic wiring of our weirdo brains tends to be more similar than different in the grand scheme of things. but often people, especially younger people, take for granted that someone else confronted with the same question or problem or reading is going to break it down and process it in basically the same way, or that something is going to trigger the same emotional responses or resonate on the same emotional frequency.

[TBC because my brain is dead -- but something about other minds, teaching, writing, dreaming]

[owen-west]

“I am going any which way the wind may be blowing / I am going where streams of whiskey are flowing.”

It took Owen about an hour and a half after he and Lydia broke up to decide a trip to Vegas was necessary for survival. Maybe he was being dramatic, but he didn’t care. All he currently needed was four fingers of whiskey neat, and a serious intervention-type speech about rushing into things. But for now, he’d settle for the first pawn shop he found on the Strip and the nearest bar located to said shop. Only a couple of days had passed since Lydia and Owen had ended things, but this wasn’t like the first time. He was under no impression that they’d eventually find their way back to each other. So, with that knowledge, he opened his guitar case, carefully removing it to access the pick compartment underneath the stem. He opened it, grabbing the small velvet box from within, casing his guitar once more before leaning the case against the corner of the room. Without a second thought, he shoved the ring box into his pocket and left the hotel. The Vegas heat blew ass, but he couldn’t stand to be heartbroken in Kansas. He’d be back by their Tuesday show, having the techs take over for the weekend. He just needed a break. Needed to clear his head. He apparently also needed to break his phone in half, because the picture that Miles just reblogged of Lydia was some next level fuckery. “Holy shit,” he said with a disbelieving laugh, pocketing his phone as he walked swiftly past the pawn shop. “Looks like that drink’s coming first,” he muttered to himself as he yanked open the door to a bar with no name. Just a quick stop. It was a fucking hole in the wall. It was seedy, and questionable in every way possible. Smoke hung heavily in the air, clouding the entire room. Neon lights shone on the stage, where drunk patrons were taking their turns at karaoke. Owen had half a mind to turn around and walk back out, but one extremely out of place girl caught his attention. She looked like a mirage in the middle of the desert. So out of place and inviting. He seemed to operate on autopilot as he made his way over to the bar and order a drink, eyes never leaving her. After suffering through a few Shania Twain covers, one Britney Spears cover, and one very sad attempt at ‘Rap God,’ Owen noticed that the girl was standing up to take the stage. The instrumental version of a song he was unfamiliar with echoed throughout the space, her ethereal voice following soon after. He was captivated; everyone was. Owen felt like the next scene in a movie would be where the inconspicuous record producer approaches her at the bar and slides her a business card, promising to help her produce content to reach the top of the charts. Unfortunately, he was a guitarist, not a producer, and all he could currently offer her is a free bar tab and some above average sex, so maybe it’d be more like mediocre porn rather than a movie? The bartender eventually came back over, asking if Owen would like another drink, which, yes, obviously. He’s trying to wallow in self-pity here, isn’t it obvious? “Hey,” he said, catching the bartender’s attention before he walked away. “If the girl singing sticks around for a bit after she’s done, give her a couple of drinks on me.” Twenty minutes later, Owen felt a tap on the shoulder, then seeing a petite, brunette girl sliding onto the stool next to him. The girl that was singing. “Thank you,” she said, gesturing the drink in a tiny cheers motion towards him. He grinned, shrugging. “It’s no problem. You earned it with those pipes. Tell me you’re a professional?” Her face fell, and wow, that had to be a record for how quickly it took Owen to touch on a sensitive subject. “Not exactly,” she said, finishing off the remainder of her drink, sliding it towards the edge of the counter. He cleared his throat, sipping at his whiskey some before asking for another drink for the singer. “Well, you should be.” He glanced over at her. “I’m Owen,” he reached over with his left hand, seeing as his right hand was holding his drink. “Sonia,” she said, and Owen noticed that her speaking voice was just about as captivating as her singing voice. Once she had her second drink, Owen felt like it was safe to continue talking. “I don’t know you. Obviously. But, you don’t really seem like the type to hang out in a place like this.” “At least here I feel appreciated,” she said with a simple shrug. She seemed closed off to elaborating on the subject, so he dropped it and nodded. He got it. “I could say the same about you, though,” she countered quickly, eyeing him with mock-suspicion. He let out a dry laugh, the bulky ring box against his leg suddenly burning in his pocket. “Bad breakup with my girlfriend. You’ll find me in anywhere that advertises itself as a bar.” She bit her bottom lip. He nudged her knee with his. “It’s fine. New topic? Besides wanting to feel appreciated, what brings you here from New York?” He grinned as she looked up with an unamused glance, almost as if she knew what he was about to say. He continued, “Business or pleasure?” Sonia let out a small laugh, mixed with an exasperated sigh. Her eyes looked up at the ceiling, possibly searching for the answer up there somewhere. Owen looked upwards after a moment, checking to see if there was actually something up there that had captured her attention. By the time his eyes dropped back down to meet hers, his brown eyes were pierced with her unwavering gaze. “Business,” she said, her elegant cadence contrasting greatly with her young appearance. “But it didn’t go as planned,” she finished, her voice having dropped down several decibels. She looked away. He gave her a moment. Seemingly composed, she turned back to him after several minutes, finishing her drink and ordering another before asking, “And you?” “Pleasure,” he responded quickly. And she could obviously tell what that meant. Getting his mind off of his life and his ex. The stereotypical Vegas trip. She tilted her head to the side as she inspected him, a serious expression on her face. Her hand slid across the bar top until it was on top of his; a warm, physical display of comfort. A silent, I’m here for you when you get belligerently drunk and start ranting about your past relationship. “Sorry about your girlfriend,” she said softly. Owen shook his head, trying to smile. “Don’t be.” He reached for the shots they had been given, taking one in his hand, raising it to make a toast. “To—” “Moving onwards and upwards,” Sonia finished before he could get another word out. He laughed. Genuinely laughed, and nodded, raising his brows in approval. “Onwards and upwards.” The glasses clinked together, and their night began.

Owen’s heartbeat was in his head. Really, it was. This must be what it feels like to die of a hangover. His head was pounding. Actually pounding – and it took effort from every single fiber of his being to physically blink his eyes open, and – yep. That was just a brutal as he expected it would be. Another burst of will power allowed him to sit up and examine what was left of his suite. The aftermath of his first night. The lamp on his bedside table was broken on the floor, lampshade MIA. The sheets were nowhere to be seen. Through the open French doors of the bedroom, he could see that the comforter had been draped over a few chairs in the living room to fashion a fort of some kind. Maybe. He wasn’t positive what was going on there. The mirror that took up half of the bedroom’s wall was shattered in the corner as if he’d head-butted it, which, with the way he was currently feeling, was highly possible. He wasn’t sure if it was real, or if it was just the blood rushing through his brain, but it sounded like there was water running from somewhere. A heavy sigh pushed its way from his chest, and he wiped his hand down his face, exhausted. His hand moved behind him to find purchase on the mattress for balance when it encountered something very un-mattress like. His head turned far too quickly to be this hungover, and come on, Owen, get it together. It was a person. A girl. A naked girl. He knew her? Yes…? Maybe. He brushed back some of the wild brunette hair out of her face and – yes, he did know her. Sonia. From his “quick stop” in the bar last night. Fucking dumbass. He closed his eyes, struggling to recall what exactly happened after those twelve shots of tequila at the karaoke bar. There was definitely more tequila; more alcohol in general, actually. And sex. Lots and lots of sex.  The moment that he sighed again, she shifted, mumbling something nonsensical in her sleep as she turned over to reposition herself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said softly, standing up quickly before her left hand swung over to drape over his body. He barely missed the unintentional embrace, instantly feeling lightheaded. Water. He needed water. He went into the bathroom first, finding that the source of the running water was the shower. There were wet clothes pooled in the middle of the shower that seemed to be the both of theirs, because that thong definitely wasn’t his size. He almost laughed to himself at his own stupid joke, but honestly, the hangover was too brutal. No capacity for laughs this morning. Shutting the shower off, he then walked over to the counter to grab the tiny glass that was provided and meant for rinsing after brushing your teeth. Currently, it was his solace. He downed a few glasses of water before refilling it to the top once more, walking back into the master bedroom. The mid-morning light shone directly onto the bed, causing the simple, two karat diamond ring she wore on her left hand to glisten. That was his. That was his ring he was planning on proposing to Lydia with. He choked. Literally, he started choking, spewing water everywhere, dropping the small glass he was holding. “Fuck!” He shouted as he caught his breath, not even thinking about the fact that Sonia was asleep. “Fuck! Holy fuck! Are you kidding me?!” Almost instantly, her eyes opened and she screamed as he screamed, scrambling to grab the covers that weren’t there. “Is there a bug?!” she shrieked, standing up on the mattress, using her arms and hands to poorly cover her naked body. He stared up at her frazzled face, his mouth slightly open. He didn’t need to look down at his left hand to know that there was a band on his ring finger. Now that he remembered what they did, he was very aware of the extra weight his hand carried. Wordlessly, he sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, forehead in his palms. “Are you okay?” she said, her voice shaking a little. “Was there a bug?” she repeated again, clearly very worried about this potential bug. “No,” Owen managed to croak out, his throat suddenly dry. “No bug.” Sonia remained silent for a few beats before asking, “Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” He gestured in the general direction of his suitcase, still in shock. He heard her rustling around in his suitcase, the sound of fabric brushing against skin, before she walked to stand in front of him. He held out his right hand, knowing she’d reach for it with her left. Their fingers hadn’t even touched yet when she gasped so loudly that she lost her breath.  Owen took a wild guess that she’d noticed the ring. The gasp quickly turned into hyperventilation, which Owen was greatly unequipped to deal with. He looked up at her, patting his hands against the air slowly in an attempt to try to get her to slow her breathing down. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. I know it’s a lot. I don’t really remember what happened but –” his consolation was cut off with a sharp, forceful slap. Her bright eyes were wild and wide and filled with panic. He could relate. “Okay, ow,” he said, sounding genuinely offended as he rubbed his own hand over the reddening mark to soothe his cheek. “Listen, I’m just as shocked as you are. It’s going to be okay, okay?” “It’s going to be okay?” She said, barely having to bend down to look him straight in the eye. “It’s not going to be okay. I have a life! I have a god damn career ahead of me. I’m in Julliard, for fuck’s sake – I’m only twenty-two! How old are you, twenty-nine?” “Hey!” Owen said loudly enough to shortly silence her. He pointed an accusatory finger in her direction before saying, “I’m twenty-seven.” If possible, her eyes widened even more. She looked like she was about to explode. “I don’t even know you!” she screamed, gesturing wildly. He scoffed, growing more and more frustrated by the second, shakily running a hand through his hair. “You act like I somehow know you better or some shit. We met each other last night! We both did this!” She let out something between a cry and a screech, and Owen could see her eyes watering. “You – You –” “I what?!” he shouted, stepped closer to her. She tightened her mouth into a line before rearing back once more, striking him across the face for the second fucking time in five minutes. “The fuck, man,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his cheek as she turned and ran into the ensuite bathroom. He sighed, scratching his head and walking to the bathroom door. He knocked softly, hearing small sniffles coming from inside. “I might’ve deserved that one,” he said to the door, loud enough for her to hear. “I’m sorry,” he said, hoping that she knew that that apology encompassed everything that had transpired within the last twenty-four hours. “You know, this isn’t exactly the reaction I had envisioned when my wife found out we were married.” Owen paused, his mouth twisting a little bit at the realization of what he just said. “That’s also not a sentence I ever thought I’d be saying, but that’s neither here nor there.” He slumped down against the door, leaning back against it as he sat on the floor. He knocked again, as if that would help. He was met with silence. A change of topic was obviously necessary. “I was thinking about going downstairs to one of the restaurants and grabbing some breakfast.” Still nothing. He continued anyway. “You don’t have to come along, or anything, but I figured I’d offer. If you’re half as hungry as I am, then you have to be suffering right now.” Complete and total silence. “Alright, well. Just let me know if you want to come,” he said, knocking gently on the door a couple of more times for emphasis. He grabbed some clothes from his bag and changed before sitting on the bed. Thirty minutes passed before he heard the doorknob of the bathroom jiggle, the door slowly opening, Sonia stepping back into the bedroom. She stopped in her tracks when she saw him, her eyes swollen and red. “I didn’t think you’d still be here,” she said, her voice sounding used and abused. Owen furrowed his brow and frowned a little, as if he’d be anywhere else. “Well, yeah. You were upset. I wasn’t going to just leave you.” “Oh,” she said softly, his response clearly not what she had been expecting. She sniffled. “Thank you.” “It’s no problem,” he said, standing up, pretending to not notice the obvious tear tracks trailing down her cheeks. “So,” he said, gesturing towards the front door through the living room. “Breakfast?” She answered with a small nod, tucking some stray hairs behind her ear before joining him.

The elevator ride was painfully silent, and of course his room was on one of the top floors.  They had made it a quarter of the way down when they stopped, an elderly woman joining the odd couple. She slowly made her way to the buttons, pushing her desired destination a few floors down. After a solid minute of silence, she turned to look over her shoulder and smiled up at them, adjusting her glasses. “You two make a lovely couple.” “Thanks,” Owen said with a broad grin, tossing his arm around Sonia’s shoulders, pulling her into his side. Sonia made a high-pitched sound of protest, moving her hand to push his arm off of her shoulder, but instead he caught it, lacing his fingers through hers. He figured some humor would help her somehow make light of this strange situation they found themselves in. “We are not a couple,” Sonia gritted out. “Aw, baby, don’t say that,” Owen said as he looked down at her, letting out a small chuckle. Looking back over at the elderly woman, he shrugged. “I packed our suitcase incorrectly this morning. She ended up having to take everything out and start all over again. Hasn’t forgiven me since,” he rolled his eyes dramatically, punctuating his white lie with a grin. “You know how it is.” A small burst of husky giggles burst from the small woman as she eyed the two of them. As if on cue, the elevator dinged to signal the arrival to her floor. “You two have a good time. Don’t get into too much trouble,” she said as she walked out into the landing. “Oh, we’ll try! Have a nice day, ma’am!” Owen shouted as she walked away, waving behind her.  The moment the elevator doors shut, Sonia shoved him away from her. “Owen! What’re you doing?” “What?” he asked monotonously, his cheery demeanor having apparently left the elevator as soon as the old woman did. He looked up at her as he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “We got ourselves into this shit show,” he said with a shrug, looking over at the screen that showed they were a couple of levels away from the lobby. “Might as well play it up while we can.” Sonia huffed, mimicking Owen’s stance subconsciously. The sudden reflection of the harsh light in the elevator against the diamond ring she still wore drew Owen’s attention to her finger. He looked away as quickly as he could, his stomach twisting at the thought that that was supposed to be on Lydia’s finger. He looked at Sonia. Really looked at her – and noticed how physically, she was almost the exact opposite of Lydia. Where Lydia was tan and tattooed, Sonia was pale and free of any ink. Sonia had no freckles. Sonia had dark hair. Sonia had light, bright eyes. Sonia’s lips were plush, and pink. At that, memories began to trickle back from the night before. Flashes of Sonia crawling between his legs, taking his cock in her fist before mouthing at the tip as those big, blue eyes never strayed from his. She smiled at him before widening her mouth, his cock slowly disappearing between her lips until her mouth touched her fingers that were wrapped around the base of his shaft. How the web-like crack appeared in the mirror; from her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands fisted in his hair. Her body so hot and tight, wet and ready. Urgent and desperate, he slammed her against the wall, hearing the mirror shatter behind her. He slowed to ask if she was okay. “No blood, no cuts,” she said, her words hurried and breathy. “Keep going, keep going. Harder, Owen, please.” He could see it as clear as he could see her in front of him now, but the memories felt borrowed. Like he had watched the scene in a movie, or someone had told a vivid story. He bit down as hard as he could on the inside of his cheek, trying to pull himself out of last night. After the longest minute in the history of his life, the elevator dinged to alert them of their arrival to the lobby. A large, intricately framed mirror hung on the wall on the opposite side of the elevator’s exit. Owen knew the gasp would come from Sonia before she had stepped out of the elevator. She ran up to stand in front of the mirror, craning her neck to the side, fully exposing the various dark, blooming marks scattered around her neck and chest. “About the bite marks—” Owen began. “Are you fucking serious?” she said, her voice having dropped to a whisper. “You asked for them,” he hastily explained. “And, ever the gentleman, I obliged.” Her forehead furrowed as if she were about to protest, freezing in place. Her eyes narrowed as she thought, and Owen realized that vague memories from last night must’ve been coming back to her as well.  “Did you—“ she stopped to clear her throat, a faint pink blush spreading across her cheeks. “In the living room?” She left the question open ended—there was no need to specify. Owen knew what she was asking. He smirked, nodding his head in the direction of the restaurant. “You tell me,” he said as they walked. He glimpsed over at her, his smirk growing as he took in her expression. It was clear she already knew the answer to her question.  “So did I? In the living room?” he said with a smug grin, and she shot a glare at him. She knew what happened as much as he did. The couple walked into the restaurant and when asked for a name for their party, Owen could feel Sonia’s knowing gaze heavy on him, knowing exactly what she was thinking. They could potentially share that last name now. “West,” Owen told the hostess. She gathered menus, tapped the screen in front of her a few times before leading them to their table. Once seated, Owen ordered a Bloody Mary, needing something to help mend this hangover just a tad. It hadn‘t been thirty seconds since the waitress walked away that Sonia blurted out, “How many times?” Owen’s eyes flashed up to meet hers. She seemed almost embarrassed by the question, but Owen gave her a soft, reassuring look before taking a sip of his water. It was then that he noticed how she kept occasionally shifting in her seat, obviously uncomfortable. Or in pain. He tried to not let his smile broaden. “Let’s see,” he said, realizing that once he sat down and focused, he actually remembered a lot more about the previous night than he had thought. “Living room, bed, balcony, bed, wall, mirror, shower. So, seven? I think.” She nodded silently, then thanking the waitress as she returned with their drinks, ready to take their food order. Once she left, a blanket of silence returned to their table. Owen didn’t know what he was allowed to say, and eventually cleared his throat. Just for some kind of noise to break the silence. “So, this ring…” Sonia began slowly, her focus on her left hand, carefully tiptoeing around the topic of cost. He raised his brow, shocked that she’d been the one to speak first, and laughed at her attempt at being subtle. “Yeah, it’s a lot. I went a little overboard, but I thought she was worth it.” If he hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought that Sonia’s shoulders sank a little at that. “Looks better on you, anyway,” and – where did that come from? He didn’t even know if it was true, but he thought that the shy smile it brought to Sonia’s lips might be worth it. Even if it was directed at her plate of food, and not him. “Was it for your ex? The one you had the bad breakup with?” Her words caught him off guard, and wiped the smile off of his face. “What?” She looked directly at him, tilting her head slightly as she questioned him. “This ring,” she held up her hand, facing the back of her hand towards him as if he didn’t know what the engagement ring he had purchased months ago looked like. “Was it for your ex?” Owen felt like the words were caught in his throat. He didn’t even know words. What was happening? “I? Yes? It was. But, I’d rather not talk about her.” He felt as though she was about to ask something else, and as he glanced towards her, he saw that his guess was accurate. “Seriously,” he said, stopping her from even beginning her sentence. “I don’t want to talk about her.” Sonia simply nodded, looking back down at her plate. Owen did the same. Pushing around the poached egg he’d yet to eat, he chewed at the inside of his cheek; a nervous habit of his. With each passing minute, he realized just how heavy this situation was. He was fucking married to a stranger. He knew nothing about her. He didn’t even know her last name. Actually, correction: yes, he did know her last name.

It was West.

[teamendgame-blog]

WTF Wednesday (or, Thoughts after 7x12)

Hello My Darlings,

Kate here. Another WTF Wednesday has dawned... and by that, I mean my brain just circles around WTF all day long whilst I pretend to be a professional but really am solely preoccupied by trying to figure out all the pieces of the PLL puzzle! (Like my brother, I can also expect my "Employee of the Year" award any minute now!)

TODAY however, I figured I would take you all on the journey that is my crazy mind today and live-blog my thoughts as I have them! I can't promise any of this shit will make sense or be in any sort of coherent order, but hopefully it will spark theories, ideas and maybe some answers! I don't know about you, fellow Rosewood residents, but I am desperate to either figure this out before actual EndgAme or be checked into to Radley trying!  (BEWARE TO THOSE WHO ARE BEHIND - Spoilers yonder!) 

HERE WE GO:

- Going back to my obsessive rant from my last post, there is NO way Melissa could have "not known" about Spencer's grand entrance into the Hastings family... How does a 5 year old - especially a smart, precocious, question-asking 5 year old like we can only assume Melissa Hastings was - get a baby sister sprung on her with no explanation!? I don't know where to go with this line of questioning really... Is Melissa AD or involved in the whole AD game? Even if Ron-Ron and Miracle Grow Peter managed to dupe a 5 year old, at some point in her life Melissa would probably have questioned why Spencer all of a sudden showed up when Ron Ron was never preggers, so is THAT why she's such a bitch to Spencer? She knows that there's some sort of mystery or drama around her younger "sibling" and resents having had the spotlight taken off her for even a nano-second by someone who isn't a total Hastings? This could provide some depth as to why Melissa was so cruel to Spencer - or the actual secret she wanted to protect Spencer from.  Let's not forget that Melissa, suitcase in tow, gate-crashed Mona's Army against Ali meeting, all large and in charge! She's always been too mysterious and suspicious to justify simply so she must have a hand in all of this, right!?

- WHY THE BOARD GAME... or rather, what are the stakes? Is the point of the game to get the PLLs to go to jail (since there is a "Go to Jail" spot on the game board)? But they were already in jail and then poached and put in the dollhouse. That would be an awfully repetitive end goal for AD... unless of course Cece's entire "confession" was a lie and it wasn't really her that poached them and doll-housed them. But we saw the video of Noel helping torture them in the dollhouse so this is all just SO convoluted! So for argument's sake, let's cross off the purpose as being them going to jail because CLEARLY if that were anyone's top priority, these ladies (and their parents!) have done more than enough to lock them up behind bars and, always, each incarnation of A has video evidence. The only logical motive, really, is torture. Whatever AD's beef with the PLLs is, they want to torture them by controlling their lives (like they are dolls)... But what about this "Winner Takes All" thing? Is AD challenging them and insinuating that if they WIN the game, they defeat him or her? Is this a duel to the death....? For a show that has been SO clever and has managed to outsmart me every season I need to believe that there is more to this EndgAme than just the show ending. WHY WOULD AD BE READY TO END THIS!? Like, why now? Why is it all ending NOW? For this to make sense there has to be a reason.

- I've been really, really thinking about this whole feeling of letdown and disappointment that Gavin and I expressed during our live blog - a feeling that seems to be echoed as I hit the rest of Tumblr and the PLL-watching world. Yes, we were promised "answers every episode" and at first glance we seemed to get none. But the more I think about it the more I'm coming back to the WHY as well as what answers DID we get? In the past, seasons were 24 episodes so the fact that there are only 20 this season (with a 2 hour finale) lead me to believe that the showrunners are not in need of filler episodes to stretch the story out for a set number of episodes to fill a specific tv schedule. (Plus -- and here's the mid-30 year old side of my brain that is mostly suppressed given my penchant for teenage-geared tv -- more episodes = more ad revenue = more money for those in charge so its ESPECIALLY prudent to think about the fact that this season is rather short.... they COULD have stretched it out into 15 episodes and I would be just as glued and watching live, soaking in the advertisements... ahem, rant over). Back to my point! The fact that there are SUCH few episodes leads me to believe (hope? deluded hope?) that there is really important information and answers in this episode that are not beat-us-over-the-head obvious. I need to rewatch it tonight...

- So hold the blind phones a sec... can someone please remind me - when Jenna was carted off in the 7A finale and shoved in that van and had a rubber mask thrown at her, she groped around and - with fear? awe? in her voice exclaimed "You're AD!" KEEP HOLDING THOSE BLIND PHONES KIDDIES - was this the first time we got acknowledgement of Jenna knowing about AD?! And if that is the case - and even if its not - HOW DOES JENNA KNOW AD WEARS A MASK!? Like... whoever this creepo is was walking around in broad daylight without people completely realizing they were decked out in more prosthetics than Mrs. Doubtfire so how on EARTH does Jenna know?! AD must have something on Jenna (and Noel) have been using them as pawns somehow. How else would that comment even begin make sense!? So she knows about AD, and is then carted off... her glasses are removed and she's nervously drinking tea (end of episode 7x11) and then says "You promised to tell me about the game today". IS SHE PART OF THE GAME!? Why would AD revel anything to Jenna? So AD hands her a braille binder (seriously, bitch better be thankful AD compensates for her blindness) and she smiles while whispering "Endgame". So let's think for a second.... AD can't be solely communicating with her through Braille (also, how does one produce Braille at home? Some sort of special printer perhaps? Just curious) so at this point she has to know who they are, right!?! Regardless, she waltzes into the police station to chat with Marco Fury and obsess over Spencer's breathing, so clearly she's either a pawn or a voluntary player... she's not a victim, otherwise AD wouldn't let her just traipse around Rosewood with her "bookends" to guard her. I feel like these facts are important, I just can't yet piece them together.

- Emily's game piece moved.... I say again.... Emily's game piece moved. IS this like Jumanji (side bar: how Canadian did Shay sound when she said "Jumanji"!? Also, THANK YOU PLL WRITERS for voicing our sentiments!!) or did *someone* move her piece?! I think this is also a huge thing... Also, the fact that Hanna was attacked in the shoe shop (the shoe shop MONA SENT HER TO MIGHT I ADD) with a text threatening her to "wait her turn".... this game is moving them systematically, in turns, just like actual game pieces on a board. INTRIGUING!! More thoughts to come after my rewatch.

- Yes, yes we all hate the ancillary characters like Katherine Daly who appear and provide temporary relevance (*cough* weirdo Johnny I'm looking at you and your homemade paints *cough*) but honestly? Its realistic. This show started with these girls in 10th grade ("That Night") and now they are out of college. OF COURSE there are going to be random people in their lives - and not everyone we meet in our lives is there forever, sometimes we know people for only a short while. Ahem... anyways, stepping on my tangent-flavored-soap box. Clearly there is something UP with Hanna and her budding fashion career and unfortunately I can't help feeling like Mona may be involved here. It is SUCH a coincidence that Mona claimed Katherine knew her and that's how she could hook Hanna up to dress her... and conveniently Hanna wasn't around when Mona raided her closet and nabbed her personal stash of clothing... and conveniently the ONLY dress Katherine is interested in is the one that Hanna didn't totally design herself/designed when she worked for Claudia... and conveniently the only appropriate shoe choice are the shoes Hanna is having fixed in Philly.... and conveniently Katherine, though a rich Daddy's girl socialite, can't afford her own shoes? I mean, *I* get weird about sharing shoes with friends -  but a rich "it" girl who worships fashion? Yeah, sure she's gonna take some random chick's shoes to wear, I believe that 100%.... and conveniently, when Hanna goes to get those shoes she gets locked in a cage and gets a threatening AD text... and conveniently at the same time as this, dumbass Jenna is wearing the SAME dress but in white (bitch can't even SEE the beading!).... Guys, I hate to say it but I feel like Mona may still be riding the A train voluntarily... So no, Katherine as a "person" isn't important in the sense that she's endgame but she may be leading us to clues why someone else is... It was Mona's game to start with - she and Charlotte even had that weird board game in Radley so it isn't far-fetched to believe that Mona is part of the endgame too.

- There is no justifying that little bitch, Addison Derringer, though. Well, it was funny when Emily was all (to Ali): "Am I mistaken or is she -" and Ali immediately cuts her off with "Nope, she's worse". Loved that! I mean, there will always be mean girls, and clearly Emily PTSD Fields isn't cutting any of them slack... Ugh ok, I guess there COULD BE justification for this character. The PLLs are being controlled by AD, again like game pieces on a game board, and they are each being dragged into their dark side. Spencer is having to face the realities of her parentage which has lead her to a very dark place already, especially in her interactions with Ron Ron. Emily finally grew balls......but they are biting her IN THE ASS because she just can't control her attitude now. Even her friends are commenting on it... She's being dragged into a dark place and AD is exploiting her new found backbone. All Lucy Hale seemed to talk about in interviews was Aria being in a "dark place" in this last season... so I'm sensing a theme!

- Its interesting that all their game pieces have them dressed as their High School selves - including Ali in her ever-popular yellow top (on a differently shaped base piece than the other girls....) I feel like this leads us back to AD being in this from the beginning... the conductor of this roller coaster ride... the REAL A. I think Mona could have been a pawn and that her A-days were the first stirrings of this game....

I think its clear I need to rewatch episode 7x12 and compile some more thoughts once I've done so... And I think its clear I need a new hobby.

8 EPISODES LEFT, Y'ALL!

Kisses, -K