#was thinking id pick more from other images too but The horrors. just have these for now

[rolex-kaard]

flags i picked from him btw

[cicaklah]

my girl @ronniebox tagged me and so here we go!

Rules: List ten books that have stayed with you in some way, don’t  take but a few minutes, and don’t think too hard - they don’t have to  be the “right” or “great” works, just the ones that have touched you.

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman - my mother gave me this book to read when I was maybe 11, it was her copy that she had bought when Pratchett came and gave a reading at our local library in like, 1992. I'd say no book has been more formative to me, but in writing this I don't think thats true.

The City and the City by China Mieville - I got into Mieville through my girl @crimeandcricket, and was horribly traumatised by the body horror in perdido street station, and was way too influenced by his often pretentious writing style, but the city and the city is a masterpiece I'll never recover fully from and changed me for the better.

The Children's Hospital by Chris Adrian - I'm fairly sure no one but me loves this book, but it is also a book that multiple people stopped me when I was reading in public just from the cover image. My favourite kind of book is a book that can only be written by one person, and Adrian is a theologian and paediatrician, and this book uses every single one of his hyperfixations and also made me cry more than anything else.

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster - Actually, this book probably did more to calcify my sense of humour than Pratchett did. The smartest, funniest, coolest children's book ever, and this has reminded me to get the tattoo of Tock on my wrist.

Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfield - I read this every christmas morning as a treat to myself. I also adore White Boots, the ice skating book, but Ballet Shoes is such a perfect gem of a story that is the favourite of my grandmother, my mother and myself.

Shabanu/Daughter of the Wind by Suzanne Fisher Staples - The first book that made me cry, inspired my fondness for camels and was probably my first feminist awakening? I've only read one of the sequels, but it was so brutal I still haven't emotionally recovered entirely.

The Amateur Cracksman by E. W Hornung - my mastermind specialist subject, a book that consumed me across time and space, Raffles my beloved, Bunny my beloved, I remember the moment I read the first story and my life changed literally forever. The Black Mask and A Thief In The Night are also obviously amazing and really all three should be considered one book, but something in my life changed for the better when I read the line 'AJ Raffles would be my friend!' in The Ides of March and I realised oh no, they're mine now.

Exhalation by Ted Chiang - very hard for me to choose a Ted Chiang story so thankfully I will pick his second collection, which has The Life Cycle of Software Objects and also the one about the parrots. It does not have Hell is the Absence of God or stories of your life, but tbh, software objects was the first of his stories I ever read, so it deserves to be here, even if it guts me like a fish every time.

Rivals by Jilly Cooper - if I could have anyone's writing career, it would be Jilly Cooper's. Everytime I read this insane soap opera of a book it holds me hostage until I finish it, and its like 700 pages long. The most wonderfully 80s OTT sex farce about horrible people trying to buy an ITV franchise. I genuinely can't believe that disney plus are making it into a series.

The Years of Rice and Salt by Kim Stanley Robinson - One of his least famous books and yet I think his best? I had read the Mars books several times before I picked this up, but this alternate history where 90% of Europe are killed by the black death, following how world history changes through the eyes of characters who reincarnate but always find each other, somehow??? it grabbed me by the throat and never let go.

tell me YOUR formative texts pls @crimeandcricket @deputychairman @myth-blossom @skylightpirate @stickthisbig @apricotbones @postalninja @cajunandfire @within-infant-rind

[laufire]

[ID: gif from Supernatural. It combines Castiel telling Meg that their kiss is a good memory with Meg’s bashful grin in reaction. The gif includes the title  “Megstiel Halloween Fest, prompt list”, in Halloween-themed letters, dripping blood, with a pumpking as the “o” and spider webs in the “w”,  the first part in dark red.]  

HERE’S THE FULL LIST OF PROMPTS!

If you couldn’t join on for the gift exchange, but you still want to create something for the event (or want to create more than just one fanwork), here are some prompts to inspire you.

Sidenote for creators of audiovisual content: first of all, I’d love to have you join in (one fanvid and I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, tyvm). Second: the idea is to have all fanworks in the ao3 collection I made for the event; to that help you with, there are a few links in the collection’s FAQ about how to do it and reliable hosting sites for your videos, playlists and images. Read that & the rules carefully!

Regarding the due date, it’s the 28th of October.

ART PROMPTS

“Some trueform Cas and Meg would be awesome. Just them together in their respective demonic and human forms without the vessels necessarily.   This could be from any point in the series after they've met each other.  I just want the focus to be on the two of them, no other ships/characters.” Ratings: GA and T, no archive warnings. Request made by AndThatWasEnough/captain-sodapop.

“Any art depiction of canon scenes from the show. In any style the artist wants.” Any rating, no archive warnings. Request made by laufire.

“Any art depiction of missing scenes from the show (i.e. Meg and Castiel in the mental hospital in s7, with all we didn't see of them). In any style the artist wants.I marked down the Major Character Death warning because in this case, I wouldn't mind something with Castiel mourning Meg (bring on the angst!).” Any rating, no archive warnings/major character death. Request made by laufire.

“Any art depiction of the two of them happy together (canon-divergence or post-canon). In any style the artist wants.One note: unless the canon moment asks for it, I prefer my Meg 2.0 to be brunette. The blonde color is something Crowley put on her and I resent it xD“. Any rating, no archive warnings. Request made by laufire.

“Something showing different versions of the characters meeting? Different vessels, historical moments (maybe pre-Hell Meg?), true forms, etc. Pick anything. In any style the artist wants.” Any rating, no archive warnings. Request made by laufire.

“Meg and Castiel in Halloween couples costumes!” Ratings GA and T, no archive warnings. Request made through the google form.

“Some cute Megstiel fanart, with the two of them cuddling or hugging or holding hands. Maybe with honey!Cas?” Request made through the google form.

“Meg and Cas as warrior in opposite sides.” Request made through the google form. 

“Megstiel dancing in period clothes.” Request made through the google form.

“Megstiel as a badass battle couple. Maybe with angel wings for Castiel, horns for Meg, etc.” Request made through the google form.

EDIT PROMPTS (graphics, gifs, icons, playlists)

“I would love a Megstiel-themed playlist.  Just any and all songs that remind you of them - I want to be introduced to new stuff!  Doesn't have to be horror-themed, and if possible it would be good to make it in Spotify or Apple Music, but just a list of the songs and artists would work, too. :)  I really just want to be exposed to music that you think captures the ship's vibe.  I'm cool with explicit language in music as well, and welcome any genre.” Any rating, no archive warnings/creator chose not to use warnings. Request made by AndThatWasEnough/captain-sodapop.

“A gifset with the song ‘Matches to Papper Dolls’ by Dessa”. Any rating, no archive warnings/creator chose not to use warnings. Request made by laufire.“

“An gifset with ‘What Kind of Man’ by Florence + The Machine”. Any rating, no archive warnings/creator chose not to use warnings. Request made by laufire.

“Holiday icons of Meg, Cas, and the two of them (Halloween, Christmas, Hannukah, etc.).” Request made through the google form. 

“Parallels with Megstiel and romantic movies you like.” Request made through the google form. 

“A playlist for Megstiel. I like classic rock, jazz, blues.” Request made through the google form. 

“Some Megstiel edits with lyrics or poems by Silvia Plath or Emily Dickinson.” Request made through the google form.

“Megstiel halloween/horror playlist.” Request made through the google form.

FANVID PROMPTS

“A fanvid with the song ‘Matches to Papper Dolls’ by Dessa”. Any rating, no archive warnings/creator chose not to use warnings. Request made by laufire.

“A fanvid with ‘What Kind of Man’ by Florence + The Machine. Any rating, no archive warnings/creator chose not to use warnings. Request made by laufire.

“Love Again by Dua Lipa”. Request made through the google form. 

“A spooky Halloween fanvid for the two, with Meg and Cas being badass.” Request made through the google form.

“A horror fanvid. I’m fine with violence/explicit songs.” Request made through the google form. 

“I’d like a video with Mother Mother’s song Problems.” Request made through the google form.

WRITING PROMPTS

“Would love for it to tie into the halloween/horror themes but also would still love it without.” Ratings GA and T, no archive warnings/creator chose not to use warnings/graphic depictions of violence. Fluff and Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels. Request made by angelfishofthelord.

“Now that the world has changed under Jack's leadership, what are a demon and an angel to do? (Doesn't have to include horror/Halloween elements).“ Ratings T, M, E; no archive warnigns. Post-Canon, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence. Optional tags: smut, sexual content. Request made by BleedingInk/inkbleeder.

“Anything canonverse with Meg in a wheelchair and both of them alive and together after the events of Carry On. Bonus points if there's a baby!”. Any rating, no archive warnings/graphic depictions of violence/major character death. Pregnancy, accidental baby acquisition, Meg Masters in a Wheelchair, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence. Request made by diablo77/casa-neurotica.

“Do not want polyships or High School AU. No SA/Non-Con please. Happy with any/everything else including horror themes.” Any ratings, no archive warnings/creator chose not to use warnings. Established Castiel/Meg Masters, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort. Request made by ConfusedTabaxi/loverofdemoncorns.

“Castiel and Meg find themselves dragged back into earthly affairs when the veil thins on Halloween. Canon-typical violence, monsters, ghosts, oodles of Halloween atmosphere, hurt/comfort, established relationship. Big horror vibes with an earned happy ending.” Ratings GA, T, M; /graphic depictions of violence. Horror, Halloween, Established Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Whump. Request made by MoonDrenchedShores/thevoidwouldbecalling.

“I would LOVE to see Cas and Meg reuniting and escaping from the Empty together. If you want to incorporate some horror elements (definitely welcome here), then you could maybe include the Empty Entity inflicting some mind/body horror on the pair, but I would like to see them come out the other side together. Other characters are fine to include (I could see Jack and other angels/demons fitting into this), but I want Cas and Meg to be the focus, and Megstiel to be the primary ship - no polyshipping.  Also no dub-con/non-con, underage, incest, etc. Other than that, go crazy with it. I just want to see their reunion and escape.” Ratings GA, T, M; no archive warnings/graphic depictions of violence, major character death. Season 15, The Empty, Endgame Castiel/Meg Masters, Reunions, Escape. Request made by AndThatWasEnough/captain-sodapop.

“I kind of like the idea of seeing something with Castiel & Meg 1.0. Can include horror elements if the author is comfortable.Do Not Wants: Soulmate AUs, either character becoming mortal. I'd rather it focuses on Megstiel, without any other ships involved. I'm fine with explicit sexual content, but if there's any doubt about any particular the author free to message me on tumblr, anon is open.“ Any rating, no archive warnings. Pre-Canon, Season 1, Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant. Request made by laufire.

“Some Historical AU of the author's choosing that still keeps the canon setting (angels, demons, etc., just set in the past -as Meg and Castiel are two immortal characters). They can choose to do it strictly in the past (which would limit the characters from present day one could use), or move them to the time period as long as they keep the supernatural elements, with Meg as a demon, Castiel as an angel, etc. Can include horror elements if the author is comfortable.Do Not Wants: Soulmate AUs, either character becoming mortal. I'm fine with explicit sexual content, but if there's any doubt about any particular they're free to message me on tumblr, anon is open. I'd be fine with other ships in the background, but it's not necessary. Probably none for Dean (I'm very picky about how I enjoy my Dean ships lol); I like Samruby, Samwena and Sambela for Sam. Other ships I like from the show are Dreamhunter, Gabriel/Kali, Annamary or Annaruby.” Any rating, no archive warnings. Pre-Canon, Historical AU, Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant. Request made by laufire.

“I'd like something with Meg surviving the stab in s9, but with her vessel suffering some damage and getting trapped in it. It could be a great opportunity to show off how the actress COULD have still played Meg. For that matter, I would enjoy it if it was a case fic (it's not mandatory, though, where Meg helps solve it. I put in s8/post-s8 because of the setting, but the author is free to set it in any period after that (s10-15, post-series). Can include horror elements if the author is comfortable.Do Not Wants: Soulmate AUs, either character becoming mortal. I'm fine with explicit sexual content, but if there's any doubt about any particular they're free to message me on tumblr, anon is open. In this case, I'd actually LOVE it if the author included some smut, because imo there needs to be more of those with disabled characters shown as desirable.I'd be fine with other ships in the background, but it's not necessary. Probably none for Dean (I'm very picky about how I enjoy my Dean ships lol); I like Samruby, Samwena and Sambela for Sam. Other ships I like from the show are Dreamhunter, Gabriel/Kali, Annamary or Annaruby.” Any rating, no archive warnings. Canon Divergence, Post-Season 8, Season 8, Disabled Character, Case Fic, Smut. Request made by laufire. 

“I'm not really picky. I guess it be cool to have Meg still struggling not to let her feelings show for Cas. They still end up cuddling with his wings wrapped her. Maybe after sex and or killing something Halloween themey. I don't know. Just write me some dirty fluff and I'll be happy.No destiel. Wouldn't care one bit if Dean shows up. And only as a platonic friend. Maybe Meg gives him sass.” Ratings M, E; no archive warnigns. Sex. Request made by Texboy/xtexboyx.

“Soulmates AU set in canon, enemies to lovers.” Any rating, no archive warnings/graphic violence. Request made through the google form.

“Meg needs to temporarily posses a third party (it’s all consensual), perhaps there’s a problem with her vessel. Weird threesome ensues. I’d like characters like Sam, Rowena, Mick, Eileen... not Dean, though, or anyone too young/other angels or demons.” Explicit, no archive warnings apply. Request made through the google form.

“Victorian AU, marriage of convenience.” Ratings M, E, no archive warnings. Request made through the google form. 

“Meg returns and bonds with Jack while Castiel is temporarily dead in season 13. They get together when he comes back. Fluff, hurt/comfort.” Ratings GA, T, M, no archive warnings. Request made through the google form. 

“Before the events of the show, Meg ends up captured by angels. Castiel is tasked with watching her, but they bond and he helps her escape. Angst and whump is fine, but with a happy ending, please.” Any rating, graphic violence. Request made through the google form. 

“Pacific Rim AU. No smut. Maybe with them still as angel and demon?.” Ratings GA, T, M, no archive warnings. Request made through the google form.

“Haunted hose AU, with Castiel as a ghost and Meg who just moved in investigating how she can help him move on and get rid of him... until she gets too attached. Happy or bittersweet endings” Ratings M or E, no archive warnings/major character death. Request made through the google form.

“Detective/Thief AU. Either is fine, but I’d love if Castiel was the thief/villain for a change :D”. Any rating, no archive warnings/some violence. Request made through the google form.

“High school or college AU with ace!Castiel, with the two as enemies to friends to lovers and pining!Meg.” Ratings GA, T, M, no archive warnings. Request made through the google form.

Tagging to boost the post: @casa-neurotica @galentineday @inkbleeder @bombshellsandbluebells @readingrude @crystal-doesnt-watch-spn @honey-castiel @feeling-snipsy @crobbyandspice @birdgirl1772 @dreamprophet @loverofdemoncorns @samisadeangirl @wormstacheangel @stlgeekgirl @catsmam7 @xxlionheartedgirlxx @approximately7raccoons @meg-apologist @trans-bennylafitte @xtexboyx @captain-sodapop @castiel-kline @ryoryeonggu @eunoiastarz @angelfishofthelord @sunriseat9am @elasticella @skyborneveggie @chiara-mastroianni @casifersbody @stemroses @thevoidwouldbecalling @relatablepugperson @elizabeth-forbes @mel-loves-all @raidens-realm @spncreatorsdaily @nevcolleil @5x04dean @siriuscatbennett @girlfriendcas @kaitsthings @serenfire @avalonsilver @lady-wallace @almecria @mrslukecastellan @chiisana-sukima  

[deniigi]

bro, work made me depressed that I literally left my seat to regain any resemblance of joy or something equivalent before breaking down again. Do you think you can provide a ficlet I involving Peter and Sam to cheer me up?

FUCK CAPITALISM

TAKE THIS

Title: Calibrating

Summary: Sam and Peter talk themselves towards a meaningful discussion.

---------

Peter did this thing—this infuriating thing where he texted shit like ‘come over’ and then Sam had to bend over backwards to be flirty and coy.

It was imperative that he came across as flirty and coy.

Im-fucking-perative, regardless of what Leilani said or Matt’s annoyance at what he called the ‘jungle of depravity’ that overtook the group chat pretty much daily.

Sam didn’t care.

If Peter texted the group or sent any message that might be construed upside-down as something romantic or sexual, Sam not only had to catch it, but he had to volley it back.

This, he told Leilani, sealed their No-Homo contract.

She stared at him.

He decided to demonstrate.

“See, here, look, I’ll show you,” he said, dragging out his phone. “Exhibit A. There he is, see? Asking about the strength of PVC pipe in pounds per meter like a fuckin’ tease. Now I can’t just let him think that I saw that and didn’t think of it as a metaphor, alright? So I say—”

“Sam, why does he need to know the strength of PVC pipe?” Leilani interrupted.

It didn’t matter. That wasn’t the point of this discussion.

“I’m sending a winky-face,” Sam informed her as he did that very thing.

Leilani stared harder than before.

But look, skepticism was unrewarded. Peter texted a kiss right back and said ‘oh boo, you always know just want to say.’

How could she not see the No-Homo? Sam could do this all day. He could and there would be absolutely no problems and he wouldn’t want to suffocate himself in his pillow at the end of it all.

It was fine.

“Samuel,” Leilani said, “I’m going to tell you something and I want you to hear it with an open heart. Will you open your heart for me?”

Sam spun around in his chair and arranged his arms and legs so that they were as open as they could feasibly be without being obscene.

“I am more open than a boiled clam,” he informed her.

Leilani blinked slowly, then shook her head and checked over her shoulders. She waved him in closer. Then closer. And then close enough that he could smell her perfume on her neck.

“You’re the tease,” she said.

Then she left the backroom. And Sam could only stare after her, frozen in horror as his wide-open heart wrinkled in on itself, picking up mass and gravity until it was naught but a black hole.

“I’m the tease?” he whispered to himself in shock.

Oh no.

OH NO.

 --

  “SENSEI.”

Matt dropped his collection of folders and swore, clutching at his chest.

“We have discussed volume, Sam,” he said, bending down to collect his paper children.

Sam took the opportunity to throw both arms around his neck from behind as a threat.

“Don’t lie,” he warned. “Swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, amen.”

Matt stood up and Sam felt his toes leave the floor. He hadn’t planned this far ahead.

“Or what?” Matt asked, 110% unfazed.

Sam wished that his feet weren’t kicking around in air here. It really put a dent in his intimidation factor.

“Am I a tease?” he asked.

Matt faced front with heavy eyebrows. Sam couldn’t see his face from this angle, but he knew that aura of irritation.

“If you have to ask the question, then you already know the answer,” Matt said. “Does that help?”

“No, I hate you now, actually,” Sam told him.

Matt dropped him right on his ass.

 --

 There had to be a way to attain proof. To determine once and for all that it was Sam who was in the wrong here, misinterpreting things like the genius that he was.

Thankfully, Sam’s experience of growing up as a non-only child for the last two decades had prepared him exactly for this type of conversation.

 SC: HANNAH AM I A TEASE???

HC: yes

HC: next question

SC: FUCK.

SC: WHAT IF ITS NOT NO-HOMO?

HC: my dear brother, the only options if something is not no-homo is for it to be no-no or homo-homo.

SC: Murder me

HC: gladly

SC: I’m in possible homo-homo with spiderman

HC: are you sure it’s not no-no?

SC: MURDER ME

HC: okay but like if it’s no-no then this is not a problem, right?

SC: If it’s no-no then I’ve read every sign wrong and I deserve to become a partially eaten tadpole awash in an indifferent boiling sea

HC: okay so we’re leaning INTO the drama today I gotcha. Alright but like, just for the sake of arguing, what if it was homo-homo?

SC: then I need you to bury my body somewhere no one will ever find it because my heart can’t stand requited love you know this about me.

HC: give me your login

SC: thank you I love you you’re the only person who matters

 --

 BT: Spiderman.

SM: Blindspot. DMing? You okay?

BT: this is Hannah.

SM: OH

SM: hi Hannah are you okay? Did you need something?

BT: My brother never got tested for reading comprehension but would have failed anyways. Can you arbitrate an arbitrary argument for us?

SM: I’m positive that there is a link between those two ideas that I am missing, but sure?

BT: okay are you ready?

SM: my loins have been girded.

BT: gross. you two are made for each other. Okay: what are your opinions on 24yo Chinese dudes with bad vision who are 5’7” tall, with terrible hair and brains as big and gaseous as Jupiter?

SM: positive

BT: you’re so romantic spidey.

SM: I know

BT: I’m going to tell him now

SM: WAIT DON’T TELL HIM

BT: byeeeeeee

 --

 Sam was going to have a heart attack. He couldn’t look at his phone. He was just going to lay here until he wasted away into a fossil.

Mm, yes, what a wonderful way to escape any and all feelings. That was—

His phone chirped and he nearly fell out of his chair in a hurry to answer it.

 HC: [image] [image]

HC: you owe me your bones

SC: AFASDFADFAS:FJaf’asdfjahsdlfihasdl’fas

SC: TAKE THEM

HC: if you fuck spiderman you have to get pregnant and demand alimony for your beautiful mixed babies Samuel

SC: Darling sister, we’ve talked about this. it isn’t going to happen I still have yet to steal a womb

HC: try harder

HC: ttyl

--

 Okay, this was fine.

Everything was fine.

Spidey liked Sam back, it was no big deal. Spidey liked everyone back. Even the teases.

Even.

The.

Teases.

Fuck, Sam had to move.

 --

 Foggy caught him biting his nails to pieces over the copy machine and asked him if he was okay. He was not. Foggy could read this off him. He didn’t ask again, but he did say that if Sam was feeling particularly anxious about something he was welcome to go have his breakdown upstairs in Kirsten’s kitchen instead of downstairs among the files.

Sam appreciated his offer. He hiked up the stairs, and halfway up, his phone chirped.

His heart stopped.

It chirped again, and then again. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, it was chirping every couple of seconds with messages being typed and sent at mach speed.

He kicked off his shoes and went to go stand over Kirsten’s sink to open the first one.

  PP: Sam it’s peter hey listen your sister messaged me

PP: and was asking some pretty invasive questions and I replied to her. I don’t know if you saw them but I just wanted to say that if that makes you uncomfortable in any way know that I absolutely don’t mind and I’ll stop

PP: you can tell me to fuck off if that crossed your boundaries. I shouldn’t have even messaged her back without asking you

PP: and obviously in future I won’t talk to her until I’ve cleared it with you I just wasn’t thinking I’m never thinking it’s a little hard to think sometimes

PP: especially when you message me back and I get caught up in the games and the emojis and stuff and like I’m sure that sometimes I overstep but I don’t mean to and you can tell me at any point if you want me to stop

PP: I guess I just really like to talk to you sometimes and it’s fun to have someone to banter with who actually banters back like not in a mean way but in a really nice and funny way. you’re an easy guy to talk to is what I’m saying

PP: which I’m sure you get a lot. I don’t mean that I want to like tell you all my problems I swear it’s not that it’s just more of a AHHHHH I don’t even know what I’m saying I think it’s sorry???

PP: I’m sorry??? I don’t mean to imply anything that isn’t there and I don’t want to make you feel like you have to either. Ar e you mad? Please don’t be mad okay wait no I’ve sent like seven fucking messages I’m being a creep oh my god IM SORRY ILL SHUT UP NOW OKAY SORRY BYE

  Oh nooooo.

The panic-induced infodump was not only familiar but horrendously endearing.

Sam had to explode now.

Man. Bummer.

  SC: it’s okay Peter

PP: OH THANK GOD

PP: is it tho??? Are you sure?

SC: I have positive feelings towards people like you too

  Sam’s heart pounded. He almost locked his phone and threw it in the sink, but another text came in just as that thought finished crossing his mind.

  PP: you do?

SC: yes of course I do

PP: oh nice

SC: yeah

  Annnnnnnd cue mutual nerd awkwardness. Great. Well done, Sam, you’ve done it again.

He sighed and turned away from the sink and sunk down onto the floor with his back against it.

Such a loser, Chung. So painfully awkward. Would it kill you to, just for once, slow down and chill for a minute?

God.

  PP: hey sam?

  No, Sam just wanted to sit on this floor and wallow.

  PP: hello? Are you still there?

 --

Sam let his head fall back against the sink. He closed his eyes.

His phone rang in his hand and he nearly had a heart attack. His fingers scrabbled over its face and the caller ID read ‘Peter Parker.’

Oh god.

Oh no.

Be cool. Be cool. Be cool.

“Hello?” he answered to the scratchy phone silence on the other side of the line.

He frowned.

“Hello?” he tried again, a smidge less desperate.

“Hi.”

There he was.

“Hey,” Sam said. “Sorry, just got awkward.”

Peter laughed through the line.

“Me too,” he said. “That was awkward.”

Yeah.

“Yeah.”

A long pause.

“I’m doing it again,” Sam moaned into his hand.

“No, no. Hey, you’re good,” Peter said. “I was just uh. Calling because.” He trailed off.

Sam waited.

“Sam? You still there?”

He startled and cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said. “Sorry, zoning out a little bit. You know, busy day.”

“Yeah,” Peter said.  “Yeah, I know.”

Sam breathed as quietly as he could. He could almost hear Peter doing the same on his end.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta g—” Sam started.

“Hey, do you like me?”

HNG.

“No?” Sam answered and then punched himself in the leg. “Sorry. Uh. I didn’t—I mean, uh. Yes. Of course I like you. You’re a really good person. I admire you a lot.”

Hannah, oh Hannah, where is thine shovel? Sam needed it to dig this grave deeper, please.

“Oh. Okay, I just—I guess I uh, have a hard time reading the tone of your texts sometimes,” Peter said.

“It’s okay, I get that a lot,” Sam said. “I’ll try harder to be more direct.”

“No,” Peter said. “No, no, you don’t have to change anything.”

“Oh? Okay, well. Maybe I still will, though,” Sam said.

If Peter wouldn’t have heard him, he would have started to try to fit his whole fist in his mouth.

Five minutes of conversation and they were still saying nothing.

“Sam?”

He swallowed.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Next time you’re in the city, would you, uh, maybe want to go out somewhere? With me?”

Out? What like, to a movie or something?

“Yeah, just like that,” Peter said. “’Cause I uh. Would like to. Do that, I mean. With you.”

“With me?” Sam asked. “Oh right, and your other friends, uh, names—sorry, I’m bad with names. N-ned?”

“No,” Peter said oddly abruptly. “Well, I mean—I don’t mean it like that. I just—just with you. For now. That’s what I mean.”

“Oh. Uh. Kinda like a date?” Sam asked through the forcefield of self-hatred that felt like it spanned the entire continental US.

There was a pause. Sam held his breath.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Exactly like a date. If you don’t mind—you know, doing that with me.”

AHAHAHAHAHAHA.

“Are you trying to lure me to a secondary location, Mr. Parker?” Sam asked seriously.

The laugh that met him made all the muscles in his shoulders relax.

“Maybe if the bit at the first location goes well,” Peter said. Then added hurriedly, “If you’re down for that.”

Sam was down for it right now.

Actually, maybe not in Kirsten’s kitchen. But like, right now in a different location.

“If it’s a movie date, we can do it through Netflix Party,” he pointed out faux-lightly. “It wouldn’t be the same, but we could do it this weekend, even. Saturday—I’m off Saturday.”

Peter said nothing for a long time.

“Okay. Saturday,” he finally agreed, “I can do Saturday. Kinda hard to hold your hand through a screen, but I can give it my best shot?”

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFfffffff.

“Oh, I bet you will,” Sam nearly choked.

“You’re really cute, Sam.”

NO. SHUT UP. YOU ARE.

“Thanks.”

“I wanted to kiss you last time you were here, but I was too, uh. Shy. Embarrassed. One of them.”

Sam was going to puke, but in like, the happiest kind of way.

“I like you a lot too, Peter,” he whispered.

“Are you crying?”

“What? No.”

“Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.”

“Shut up, I’m not. I—the old man’s downstairs, his ears aren’t as good through ceilings, but I just want to make sure—”

“Uh-huh,” Peter said. “I’m sure that’s what it is. So I’ll see you Saturday? Maybe Facetime or something?”

“Yeah, Saturday,” Sam said. “I’ll send you a time when I know. I’ve gotta go. Meltdown-alloted-breaktime is over.”

Peter laughed.

“Alright, man, I’ll talk to you later. Bye now.”

“Bye,” Sam said lamely.

He hung up the phone. He did not scream. But he did fist pump and then fall onto his side.

 ---------

Here’s to hoping things get easier for you anon!!

[someobscurereference]

horror question again! (i love hearing you talk abt horror ok) what would you define as "horror" as a genre ? where do you draw the line between fantasy with horrifying bits and actual horror? wht's your personal take on ir?

I love horror questions so please always feel free to ask away, lol. But this is a tough one! It's hard to pick a hard and fast definition of horror as a genre because I think so much of it is flexible. Horror is grotesque; its tragic; it elicits shock and dread and disgust; it makes you look at things that could never be possible and twists your stomach; it makes you look at all the nasty aspects of yourself and what they Could Be. Gothic romance like Crimson Peak has horror elements, but it's not necessarily scary. Nor is NBC's Hannibal. But I think they both count for the horror genre just as much as movies like Alien or Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (2019), which might make you gasp and make your heart pound in a different way! And there are so many other elements to horror that I haven't named here either! I think all genres are very flexible. If something elicits a response from you ranging from fear to dread to grotesque fascination or even something very different from any of those, I think all of that can fall under the "horror" umbrella and more.

The line between fantasy with horror parts and horror fantasy blurs a lot too. I think author Maggie Stiefvater did a great job of explaining why they are so similar in her tweet:

[Image ID: A tweet from author Maggie Stiefvater that reads, "To me, horror and fantasy are such wonderful siblings. They share parents: Broken Rules and Possibility. If you break the rules of the world, all kinds of things become possible, and if they are good, we call it magic, and if they are bad, we call it horror." End ID]

A great example of this is her Raven Cycle series [mild spoilers ahead], which is primarily a realistic book with magic in it. And the magic is all fantastical and cool until the last book, The Raven King, where all the magic is suddenly Bad and some body horror shit happens and Magic becomes a frightening thing the protags are running from. Is that whole series a horror series? No. But is the last book in the series a horror book? Or a fantastical book that gets scary? That's hard to say. I think a lot of that depends on your personal boundaries and definitions of horror vs fantasy and what predates the events. When I read the Raven King, I remember thinking to myself, "This is a horror!" and being Delighted at the turn the plot had taken. But that may not be true for everyone who reads it. (And I may even feel differently reading it now as opposed to reading it in my freshman dorm in college; its been several years, after all.)

Another example: Ghosts in H*rry P*otter aren't scary. Iirc, they're never really an antagonist in the books. But ghosts in Poltergeist are definitely the horrific villains! Was there a version of Poltergeist where the ghosts could have been less horrifying and more fantastical? Was there a version of H//P where H*rry is more directly haunted (in the literal or metaphysical sense) by his connection to the man who attacked him that fateful night? Haunted by his parents? I think both the fantasy version and the horror version of these stories exists in the same universe.

Put it another way: Everything can become horror if you look at it from the right angle. In every fantasy worldbuilding scenario, there is an element of the world that is fun and light or taken for granted--and if you really dig down deep into it, it can be as dreadful or normal as you perceive it to be. [TAZ spoilers] Barry and Lup as liches in TAZ are fun and lighthearted until you get to liches in another d&d story, and then their situation is very scary--and often antagonistic to the "good guy's" goals, which can be as mild or intense as the story and roll of the dice allows. [ATLA spoilers] Katara being able to bend anything with water in it is great--until you remember humans are made of water and get to bloodbending. These features are present in each of these stories, but they are not the main focus of these stories, even if they are briefly prominent plot points. By shifting the focus of the story and nothing else--not the characters, not the setting, just the lens--can these now be horror stories existing in a fantasy universe? Absolutely they can.

But your question is "At what point is the line drawn?" When is there too much horror spilling over the fantastical line in the sand? When is this no longer a fantastical story and instead something that keeps you up in the middle of the night? (Though I'd have to say, shouldn't every good story do that no matter the genre?)

First off, I think the answer depends on what the story chooses to focus on, not what elements may exist in the periphery. But that's not a hard and fast rule; lines get blurred a lot.

Secondly, the answer always depends on you, the viewer!

[lovestrucked-again]

Sanguine II Mafia

Genre: Mafia AU Warnings: dark themes, blood, guns, creepy evil guy. Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You’re a second year med student taken in by the house of NCT. It’s not uncommon to be the last to learn things within the house but when your safety is threatened, you’re forced to leave home with no option. But it only makes things worse.

Part 1 || next ****

You don’t even take a second to think things through. Your rationality and sensibility gone out the door when the man mentioned Taeyong being unconscious. You could only puzzle all the things together. For Taeyong to be unconscious would mean the other guys were also in danger.

You clutched onto your phone, debating whether you should wake Lucas up or not but the warning to come alone rings in the back of your mind. You creak open the door and switch on your phone light, using it as a torch as you quickly slip on a proper shirt and pants. The keys for the car are on the nightstand beside Lucas. You tiptoe over, desperately trying to keep quiet while he sleeps completely oblivious. The idea to leave a note crosses your mind, by the time he wakes up you would be long gone, and who knows maybe this will be my last time seeing him.

But the vibration of your phone and the notification popup your screen shows brings you out of the thought.

Unknown number: I’m waiting.

The text leaves you sprinting out the room.

The drive home is completely silent apart from the swimming thoughts surrounding your mind. The freeway seems to be completely deserted, letting you speed down the straight road whenever possible. You don't realise how long has passed with your hands gripped on the steering wheel until the sudden ring on your phone causes you to jump.

You glance over at the Bluetooth mini screen displaying the caller ID, Lucas. The corner of the screen shows the time, 6:03am. The ring continues for over a minute and then disappears. The second ring coming through doesn't surprise you as he tries again. The thought to turn off your phone isn’t possible as the unknown number may call, so you reach for your phone and disconnect it from the Bluetooth of the car, switching it to vibration mode.

The guilt inside you begins gnawing in your stomach as you drive and your phone continues vibrating on the passenger seat beside you. As desperate as you were to answer, you didn't want to risk it, and besides, Lucas would be safer if he wasn't bought in.

Everything looks normal on the outside. None of the windows are smashed, the house seems to be stable, nothing looks like its collapsing. The house seems visibly fine but it's the dozens of unrecognisable cars along your street that's concerning. There’s at least 10 vehicles; vans and cars included.

Deciding it’s better to stay hidden for as long as possible, you take the back route, driving through a dirt road hidden by a KEEP OUT sign. You park a bit further back from the house to ensure the sound of the engine isn’t heard.

You sneak in through the back door, heading for the top floor of the house to check out the situation. The commotion in the living room indicating to you where everyone is. As you tip toe up the stairs, a loud roaring laughter comes from the floor below. You decide to take a peek, getting on your knees and crawling to the edge of the railings which overlook the living room.

The amount of people crowding in the living room makes it seem tiny. But you can easily pick out your members from the 20 or so individuals.

The first person you notice is Taeyong who seems to be barely conscious, his arms roped behind his back as he’s tied against a wooden chair, a man with a gun standing beside him. The rest of the boys stand behind with what looks like a gag preventing them from speaking, their hands tied by rope, faces bloody and bruised, a gun also resting at their heads. Your eyes can only glimpse at them, not baring to lay your eyes on anyone for too long.

It's a slight breath of relief knowing not all of them are here. You can only see a few of the guys which would mean the others were safe, at least that's what you hoped.

Jaehyun was standing in a pool of blood, the red seeping through part of his shirt on his right shoulder indicating a heavy wound. Beside him, was Yuta and Jeno. The swift glance over them letting you know none of them seemed visibly injured, apart from the stained clothing. The last person you noticed brought a gasp out of your mouth. Winwin was leaning against the couch for support, his hands left untied as he presses onto a bleeding patch on his lower abdomen.

Tears instantly form at the side of your eyes as you scramble back from the sight, making sure you’re unable to be seen before you start shaking, the fear now kicking in. Breathe, don't panic.

You crawl back forward, you had to see how many enemies there were. You had to think of something quickly, but the image of the scene below continues to invade your mind. There’s no time.

As your about to stand, making your presence known, a hand tugs you back down. The other hand of the person instantly whipping around your mouth to prevent the squeal that comes out.

“It’s me, Mark.” A whispered voice says into your ear. He feels you relax against his body before letting go and you turn to face him. He looks stressed, His eyes are red, the veins popping out while his shirt’s covered in colours of blood and dirt. “What are you doing here?” Mark asks, tugging you to the back of the wall.

The men from downstairs continue talking, deep rumbles of laughter invading your ears.

“I-I got a call.” You’re so relieved to see Mark. Even in this situation, seeing him and knowing he wasn't hurt was reassuring, “What happened?”

“I can’t explain this now; you have to leave.”

“Where’s the others? A-are they okay?” You ask, desperate to know.

“They’re fine.” He tells you, “Y/N listen to me.” He grips onto your shoulders, turning you to face him properly, “Johnny and Haechan are outside near your car. You need to leave okay.”

“I can’t just leave!”

“We’ll take care of things here.”

“That guy called me here.” You tell him, “He’ll let them go if I talk to him.”

“That bastard.” He mutters underneath his breath.

You know there’s no chance things can end nicely in this situation and you weren’t prepared to let anyone die today. But knowing the boys for so long, there was no way they would bring you into this. You can hear Mark as he turns around to whisper to the wall, presumably informing Johnny and Haechan about the situation through the ear pierce.

This would be your only chance to go down there alone. You prayed Mark wouldn't be stupid enough to follow you. It would be pointless for him to reveal himself alone. While he continued mumbling into the earpiece, you took a deep breath, preparing yourself. Now or never right?

And then you stood up properly, and walked down the stairs.

“Y/N!” Mark lets out a hissed whisper in surprise, attempting to grab onto your wrist but fails.

The noises stop from downstairs as a larger built man sitting directly in front of Taeyong stands up. His eyes now trained on you. You recognised him by his face.

You’d walked into the meeting room one time and they’d forgotten to hide the photos sprawled out on the table. You picked up the photos along with the file on the table out of curiosity. The file contained more images, graphic ones. There was a photo of a boy, perhaps 4 or 5 years of age, lying in a pool of blood in an empty room. The words NCT stained onto the wall behind the child.

At the time all you could remember was crying. You had bawled you’re eyes out, terrified of the people you were surrounded by. The file slipped out of your hands and all the contents flowed out. You remember gathering everything in a scurry, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand simultaneously. All the images were of different angles in that room. Except one.

There was a photo taken of an older guy. He looked like he was in his mid-teens in the image but his facial features were very distinct, including the scar under his left eye which ran across half his face.

The guy staring at you, was him. Your mind went around in a frenzy, trying to piece together the possibilities of what he wanted with you. Why is he here?

“Well, hello there.” The guy greets, beaming a crooked smile from his position. Taeyong instantly whips his head around to follow his gaze. His eyes widen immediately, his mind gone completely blank seeing you here.

You stopped moving at the bottom step. Scared to get any closer to the man who was now slowly approaching you. You looked past him, meeting Taeyong’s eyes. For the first time since you met him, since he bought you into this family, he looked terrified. He was covered in blood and his face losing the usual bright colour in his complexion. Taeyong was the only one without a gag, but he was weak right now and it was obvious he would be with the bath of blood underneath his chair. He was barely conscious.

The others only stared at you, Jaehyun, Yuta and Jeno who were too shocked to move. Winwin who was barely conscious.

“Run Y/N.” Taeyong whispers out, his voice inaudible to where you are. The guy approaching you whips his head around to Taeyong, letting a little grin wash on his face before nodding to his men standing silently on the side.

You watch in horror as the guys gather around the members, kicking them from behind the knees causing them to collapse. The members can only growl as they struggle with the binds behind their backs and the fabric preventing them from talking. As one of the unfamiliar guy’s approach Winwin you realise he had fallen into an unconscious state.

“Don’t!!” You scream out, just as the guy’s foot swings into the air. The guy stops, everyone’s eyes now trained on you.

The leader chuckles, as the man in front of Winwin looks over at his boss, and then looks at you. The leader gives a little nod and the man steps back, leaving Winwin on the floor. Your heart drops and you can feel the air seep out of you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Y/N,” the guy says, now just a metre away, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Can’t say I feel the same.” You mutter out, taking a step back up the stairs, to distant yourself.

The guy in front you laughs, taking another step closer. “I just want to talk.”

“Let them go and I’ll talk” You offer, watching his expression carefully.

He lets out a hum and you think for a second, he’s considering your deal, but the snicker following seconds later lets you know his answer. “How about we have a talk outside? Where there isn’t such a big audience?” He purrs, closing the gap between the two of you as he brushes away the fallen strands of your hair. You turn to face the side, not wanting to look into his intimidating gaze. But he brings a finger to your lips, forcing you to look up at him as he speaks, “Just the two of us.”

“Fuck off.” You spit out, your saliva hitting him in the face. He steps back in surprise, eyes shut as he chuckles to himself. His men in the room stand silently, shocked at your behaviour towards their leader.

“What a pretty bitch.” He laughs, wiping his face roughly. You step back too late, as he leans forward grabbing your jaw harshly.

“L-let her go or I’ll kill you.” Taeyong growls out, his voice still weak. Your hands are gripping at the guy’s wrist on your jaw, trying to fight your way free.  

“You can try.” The man claims, turning around to face Taeyong.

“It wasn’t us.” Taeyong mutters out, his eyes closing shut as he tries to fight the pain from his gunshot wound.

“Really?” The guy asks, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He lets go of your jaw, stomping back towards Taeyong. “No one else knew about him except you Taeyong.” He spits out, jabbing a finger at Taeyong’s chest as he speaks. You watched as the guy visibly stats to shake, using more and more pressure as he jabs into the wound, “Only you knew him!”

For some reason, it seemed there was a deeper story between the two leaders, one which you had never learnt.

Mark who was still upstairs had called Johnny and Haechan in who were already at the back of the house for backup when you had gone downstairs. However, the three of them, now crouched at the railings, could only watch. Mark had called the members who were in the safe house, deciding they needed everyone to come to try even out the numbers at the very least before fighting back.

With just the three of them, there was no way they could win against the 15+ men downstairs. So all they could do was watch and wait, praying the members could hold on until then.

As the leader falls back onto his chair, exhausted at his outburst, you sneak a peek at the members’ injuries, finally being able to see the extent of damage from a much closer view.

Jaehyun seemed to be hiding his pain but the soft patter of blood droplets adding to the pool he was standing in needed to be attended to. Winwin was also losing too much blood and his unconscious state was making you panic. He needed help quickly, before it was too late. And there was also Taeyong’s physical state which was driving you insane.  

It’ll be too late to save them if they stay like this for any longer.

“I’ll go with you.” You tell him, breaking the conversation between the leader and one of his men. You walk over to him, ignoring the blood splatters on the floor and the eyes of the members burning into you. “But we leave now. All your men in this house, outside the house, the ones watching us from afar. Everyone.”

He stands up, brushing off his pants and walks to stand in front of where you stopped.

“You’re a brave girl Y/N.” He leans in, tilting his head to the side so his lips are right at your ear, “But you don’t get a say in this situation baby, you’ll be coming with me anyway.” He moves back to watch your face fall, searching your eyes for the horror expressions he feed off.

But you’re not scared, not shaking, not doing anything that he was expecting.

“Please.” You beg him desperately, throwing away all the confidence you had before. He watches you, amused at the sudden change of attitude, but it's a nice thing for him. So he accepts your offer. His plan had only been altered slightly so there was nothing bad in it for him.

Originally he had told one of his men to be ready to knock you out and take you, leaving the members of NCT to watch as you were taken from them. But you just made his life easier by willingly going.  

“Let’s go.” He commands, waving his hand at his guys to retreat.  “We’ll listen to the princess’s demands.” He snatches hold of your wrist, dragging your feet to follow after him as he heads towards the front door. “After all, it’ll be more fun like this.” He laughs, directing his words to Taeyong.

The man guarding the door opens it, letting the leader step through as you trail behind, your eyes glued to the people in the living room.

You take a last look at everyone. The pleading eyes everyone was staring at you with. You knew Taeyong would probably go crazy mad for a few days. But you had faith. Faith that they would be okay now and faith that there would be a way for you to return home. ____

A/N: i really should edit this and I will edit this tomorrow but for now GOODNIGHT. <3

[ninakaina]

why do you like maria kaina so much? ì'm just really curious.

this is the most exciting question i’ve ever gotten in my life

[image id: a screencap from the pathologic wiki, which says “personality: femme fatale.”] 

EDIT: im gonna make this into a video essay sooooooo read it if you want or stay tuned for a video in like a week and a half

first of all, i’m a lesbian and she’s a goth girl. secondly, she combines many of the tropes that i adore in female characters, and i’ll try to get into some of it as concisely as i can. in short: femme fatale, magic woman, scary woman, cassandra, sublime. i’m going to draw some concepts from the essay “the woman in the red dress: sexuality, femmes fatales, the gaze and ada wong” by jenny platz in the beginning here.

in the scope of their function as femmes fatales and the ways they transcend the typical boundaries placed on femmes fatales, ada wong resident evil and maria have a lot of similarities beyond obvious similarities in design (you can see patterns forming in my interests but also if you don’t know anything about ada this should still all make sense). so we’re all on the same page, a femme fatale is a woman of dubious morals and unknown or false motives who uses her sexuality and wit to get what she wants from men. the femme fatale has a long, uncertain, and pervasive history, and a love-hate relationship with the misogynistic writers/audiences/societies that create her, but ada and maria break free of many of the tropes that allow the femme fatale to be part of a misogynist power fantasy. together they have functionally very similar relationships to their male protagonists, although i wouldn’t say maria cares about daniil half as much as ada cares about leon if at all, in which they’re more than willing to lie to the men and put them in harm’s way to achieve their own unclear ends, while serving an essential function in keeping them alive, often without their knowledge (in the changeling route, maria sends daily letters to clara to keep daniil from getting murdered by artemy).  they add an element of unease verging on horror to their games through their sheer power - which stems from a weaponized womanhood, the player’s unfolding understanding of the vastness and nature of their power, and the fact that you have no idea what they’re going to do with it. the weaponized womanhood is relevant here because in theory, to a male audience, it adds its own level of horror, but to me it adds a level of love.

like ada too, and unlike the typical femme fatale of books and movies even in the modern era, maria is never purified or punished; in fact, she only becomes more powerful over the course of the game. her death can only come via the plague; there are no plotlines where she may die. even when she’s caught red-handed by artemy in patho 2, he has two options: to tell her father, who is unlikely to stop her and even less likely to punish her, or to note that this is maria’s world and we’re all just living in it and move on. in classic she can get married at the end, but not for love and it’s made explicitly clear that her husband’s role is to serve her, like victor served nina; instead of finally conforming to a patriarchal mold like the archetype would predict, she again uses a man to advance her agenda. (she still deserves better though. killallvlads2020)

another similarity between maria and ada that’s also the biggest way they diverge, is their expanded power of body over the typical femme fatale. where typically the femme fatale is just a wickedly smart, sexy woman (good for her), she has little power beyond the sexualization of her body, and little recourse when she’s in danger besides getting a man to help her out of it. the way this is subverted is the most obvious in ada, so it’s a good lead-in; her power of body also translates into fighting skills greater than that of most of her peers-- she uses acrobatics and melee attacks more often than other characters, making her distinctly equipped to survive without anyone’s help and destroy her opposition. maria, obviously, is not a fighter, and she’d die immediately if she was locked in a police station with zombies, so at first glance she seems to fall more into the wicked damsel aspect of the trope. but thematically and functionally, pathologic is not a game about physical fighting or even physical power. in a game world where guns and bullets are exceedingly rare while information (as well as picking truth out of lies) is the form of power that gets characters to the end alive, maria has, in herself, the access to more information than any male character. aside from mark’s (and grief’s) special role as the fool, clairvoyance and particularly mistresshood are specific to women, and come to maria from the steppe. she’s also “sensitive to lies and deceptions” and “can instantly see one’s true colors”. she is shown barefoot in pathologic 2, which symbolizes her personal and physical connection to the wild earth, a power of body in itself. maria and ada are both apex predators, perfectly suited to their particular environments and narratives- on that note, maria is never endangered at all, aside from typical plague mechanics and distress in her issues with aglaya.

okay, enough about ada wong. beyond her connection to the femme fatale trope, maria’s narrative in itself also draws on a really compelling archetype. i mentioned that maria is never purified or punished, nor really endangered, but  that doesn’t mean her story is without tragedy. instead, her tragedy is more personal and psychological, as she’s one of several characters who deal in the theme of lost childhood, and maria’s particular refrain has a hint of lost humanity. these are characters who are forced to grow up, often too fast, and for whom growing up carries an inherent trauma where some aspect of who they were or who they could have been is ripped away from them. i would also call maria and capella’s stories lost girlhood, since there’s a lot of... you know, it feels like stuff that mitski would sing about. i could talk for ages about “i can hear [your mother’s] voice [in you]” and how effectively it’s played for a bittersweet horror. in classic we are very clearly shown maria changing from who she is at the beginning, acting completely differently, and it’s left unclear as to whether this is simply the new maria or her mother’s spirit is literally possessing her (again, some obvious metaphor here). in pathologic 2, they make a change that i really love. maria has already taken up the mantle of mistress or at least claims she has and is in the process of change-- “a mistress in the making”, but it’s mentioned that artemy remembers her from before he left the town. 

he says “i remember when you were just a kid. who would have thought you’d grow into-- this?” if you read my writing, you may have picked up that i seriously fixate on this piece of her narrative. from when she was a girl (16 at the oldest) to when she’s 21, she’s changed so much as to be almost unrecognizable, and more than unrecognizable, she’s become a complete mystery, a nightmare. this is a tragic horror, in the sense that tragedy is horror that’s already happened. from the uncanny valley of the familiar turned unfamiliar, the creature-that-was-once-maria, the not-quite-nina, to that same sense of loss as someone who was once just a girl is forced to be more grown than she is and more grown than any person should be expected to be. as anna angel wears willow’s hair, maria wears her own. that one haruspex line asks a thousand, unsettling questions to which we can expect no answer. who was she before? who is she now? what happened to her? when did she change? what has she lost? what has she gained? is this who she wants to be? did pressure from her mother shape her, or grief over her mother’s death, or something else entirely? is this who she was always going to become, or could she have been something else? all of these and more lead into the central questions that define both the dark/scarlet mistress and monster movies: what is it?, what is it capable of?, and what does it want? these questions are, naturally, never answered, although it’s likely we’ll get a little more insight into her motives in the bachelor route of patho 2. 

stepping back from the specifics of mistresses, this again carries strong themes of coming of age and lost childhood/girlhood; the idea that in order to ascend so to speak and to take on role greater than you are, you have to either destroy yourself or be yourself destroyed. maria’s version of this story is, again, a tragedy. she is plagued by the stress of her destiny, haunted by nightmarish prophetic visions (which fucking DANKOVSKY doesn’t even BELIEVE), and completely alone, so much so that to express her love physically would destroy the object of her love, and yet she is still the incredible femme fatale i was talking about before. this is where i end up with the quote i captioned my painting of maria with: “a girl burns, and the sublime blossoms.”

i used the word sublime to describe maria twice in my writing, in that quote and in “her eyes are fierce, dark, sublime.” this is literally the best word i can come up with to describe the scarlet mistress, and the sublime is a big concept in aesthetic theory, but one which is hard to describe in itself. i try to portray elements of the sublime whenever i write or draw her although i’m not THAT good yet lol. it doesn’t have any physical or functional criteria except the feeling it causes (for a good example i think of the earthrise photo). this quote on the sublime, by edmund burke, feels very reminiscent of the way nina is described in game: “the passion caused by the great and sublime in nature, when those causes operate most powerfully, is astonishment, and astonishment is that state of the soul in which all its motions are suspended, with some degree of horror.” it’s awe-inspiring, it’s scary, it’s a force of nature, both refined and wild and personally impersonal, and it’s pretty much the only word i have for the iconic maria quote.... you know the one. “and you know, mother, that forge is me. sometimes i wake up with a burning in my chest, and the sky becomes crimson. in that very moment, if i kiss someone, they can see it too. it’s true.” 

one last thing i LOVE about maria is the power of self and autonomy she retains, especially in 2. in the diurnal ending as the utopians are planning to cross the river (which was her plan in classic), maria says she doesn’t want to; she wants to stay and create, not art or buildings but people, to bring them into the sublime. her cruelty is how she nurtures those around her, as opposed to capella whose nurturing is in many ways cruel. and it’s in the diurnal ending that we first hear the title “crimson mistress”; where in classic, nina was the scarlet mistress and maria became the scarlet mistress, in 2 nina was the dark mistress and maria becomes crimson. there is no question that she’s not her mother. after all she’s endured, she forges herself into something new, not necessarily brighter but more visceral, takes her mother’s legacy and makes it her own.

so i guess tldr: what’s not to like about maria kaina?

[echo-bleu]

More Than Enough

I originally wrote this for the Whumptober “Ransom”, but I never posted it on here. I figure now that we have an actual Alex kidnapping, it’s a good time to dust it off! So it’s not technically new, but it’s my entry for day 2 of the Missing Alex Manes weekend ( @alexmanesappreciation)

[mental health issues, seriously unhealthy coping mechanisms, gunshot wounds, kidnapping]

Alex has never been good enough. At this point, it's just a fact of life. He wasn't good enough to make his mother stay, or take her with him (he knows all the reasons why she says she left, but it's what it boils down to, really). He wasn't a good enough son for his father (Dad has told him that, over and over, until it etched into his mind). He wasn't a good enough musician to run away and try his luck somewhere (he hasn't touched a guitar in ten years). He wasn't a good enough Airman to save his unit when a building collapsed on them (they're all gone now).

He was never, ever, good enough for Michael.

Alex brought him nothing but pain. He was the channel of his family's hatred for aliens, bringing it all down on Michael. He's hurt him, over and over. He tries so hard to stay away, to avoid hurting him more, but he doesn't even have enough control of himself for that, like a piece of iron attracted by a magnet.

Like a planet orbiting around a sun. Michael is his sun, hot and blinding (so attractive). Alex is a bare, burnt planet devoid of life.

And the little ball sitting in Michael's hand is the comet that will destroy them all.

Alex kneels on the floor of the dirty parking lot and stares at it. It's a bomb. A biochemical weapon, built to destroy every piece of alien DNA that remains on earth (three people, four organic pods, one defunct).

Slowly, oh so slowly, the ball floats away from Michael's hand. Michael has a look that's half focus and half disgust on his face, and Alex doesn't need to look to know that most of that disgust is directed at him.

Flint roughly pulls Alex up, making him stumble. His hands are sill attached behind his back with a zip tie, so he doesn't have the balance necessary to walk on his prosthetic.

“Go,” Flint groans into his ear. “Slowly.”

Alex obeys, for lack of another option. He limps over to where Michael and the others stand, leaving his two brothers and their henchmen behind. He passes between the floating ball and the equally levitating hard drive, that he knows contains everything they've been able to gather about aliens, from Caulfield, from Noah's ramblings, and from the new facility upstate.

Michael, Max and Isobel are giving that up for him.

(He doesn't understand.)

He wants to yell at them to stop, that they can't exchange all that against just him, that the bomb is meant to kill them. He wants to tell them that he's not worth that, he never will be. But he can feel Flint's glare burning through his back, so he walks.

Unable to meet anyone's eyes, he keeps his head down until he reaches where Michael is standing, two steps in front of the others. Michael gives him a nod, his face unreadable.

Alex turns to watch his brother catch the ball and the hard drive.

“Thank you,” Flint says with a smirk. “I hope he was worth it.”

Alex stays perfectly still, staring at him. The four men go back to their car, a large SUV with stained windows, and drive away.

“Alex!” Liz exclaims, jumping into his arms. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” he reassures her. He's exhausted and bruised and hurting more than a little, but it doesn't matter right now. He pushes her away gently, the touch making his skin crawling. “Michael. Max, Isobel,” he says, looking down at his shoes. “You shouldn't have accepted the exchange. This was too important.”

“You're more important,” Michael says immediately, moving into his space. Alex wants to step away. They haven't been this close since Caulfield.

Michael choosing to date Maria hurt (destroyed him), but it was just a matter of time before he realized Alex wasn't worth the trouble. Alex tried, really hard, to stay out of his life since then, interacting only when necessary for their work on Project Shepard.

He wants Michael's comfort, his hands on him, his mouth on his, so hard it hurts.

“No,” he murmurs, shaking his head.

“We'll stop them another way,” Isobel says, while Max comes close enough to cut the zip tie holding Alex's hands behind his back.

“Here you go,” he says.

Alex stands back, away from everyone. He feels their eyes on him, and he swallows hard. He should thank them, he think. For sacrificing so much to get him back.

The words don't make it past his lips. They sound wrong. He can't be grateful, not when he's so terrified.

“They have the bomb,” he says instead.

“It's not complete,” Liz answers. “I had a little time to study it. They still need a trigger, and without a biochemist, they can't build one.”

“They can find a biochemist,” Alex mutters.

This is all on him. He got himself captured, giving them leverage over his friends, to ask for a ransom. And all of it is because of his family. His father died from the blow to the head Kyle gave him, but now his brothers have taken over. The family legacy, indeed.

Alex would rip it all to pieces if he could, but he's not even good enough for that.

He wasn't good enough to save Michael's mother and the other aliens in Caulfield. He wasn't good enough to spare Kyle the horror of becoming a killer, by dealing with his father himself. He wasn't good enough to stop them all from falling apart, after Max died resurrecting Rosa. He had no part in getting Max back, but he failed at dealing with the rest of Project Shepard while he was gone. And now, after finally finding the bomb, he's the reason they just had to let it go.

(He's not worth it.)

“Let's go home,” Michael says quietly, not looking at Alex.

Alex nods once, blinking back tears.

“Alex, what the fuck are you doing?”

Alex looks up from his monitor, blinking sluggishly. “What?”

“You're supposed to be resting!” Michael exclaims, too loud, walking too close until he's towering over Alex.

It's been two weeks since they gave up the bomb as Alex's ransom. Every day, it's probably closer to completion. All their data is gone too, since part of the exchange was that Kyle wipe it off their computers when transferring it onto the hard drive. They're at least two steps behind Flint, and it's a dangerous situation to be in.

Alex dreams of his friends going up in flames every time he dozes off. He knows the bomb doesn't work like that, that it's a gas that will probably be released into the water supply, but it doesn't keep him from waking up screaming (it's worse).

“I'm fine,” Alex says. The bunker has become useless since the data is gone, so he's working from his cabin to track his brothers.

“Alex, Valenti nearly admitted you last night. You're not fine.”

“I'm fine enough,” Alex amends. He feels like he's been run over a truck, but the exhaustion actually eases the anxiety a little. Or at least, it worked until he collapsed last night and Kyle ended up sedating him to make him sleep.

(It made him lose a whole six hours.)

(He can't afford it.)

“You're going back to bed,” Michael says, and Alex wonders why he's even there. Have they set up an Alex watch, now? Michael hasn't been here since−

He hasn't been here, period.

(Only in Alex's dreams.)

“Why are you here?”

“'Cause I was worried, dork. I was here last night too, but you were sleeping.”

So they set up an Alex watch, and even roped Michael into it.

“Don't you have better things to do?” Alex asks.

Michael pinches the bridge of his nose. “You're a stubborn jackass, aren't you?”

“I'm just...invested,” Alex mutters.

“Obsessed is more like it. This isn't healthy, Alex.”

You're one to talk, Alex wants to say. He doesn't, because Michael is right. He's obsessed with finding the bomb so it doesn't kill his friends. How can he not be?

(It's all his fault.)

“I have to find them,” Alex says.

Michael sighs, dropping onto a chair. He stares at Alex, so Alex looks back at his monitor, uncomfortable.

“What did they do to you, Alex?” Michael asks.

Alex flinches in surprise. “What?”

“Ever since we came back, you've been−”

It's not since they came back. Alex know, confusedly, that something changed, though his sense of time is skewed. It started before, he thinks. In Caulfield? Maybe. Or that day he spent waiting for Michael at the junkyard. He can't pinpoint it.

It's all a blur now, anyway.

(All his brothers did was expose the truth.)

“It doesn't matter,” he says.

“Of course it does!” Michael protests.

Alex shakes his head. “I'm close. I need to find them.”

“No, you need to rest, Alex. You haven't been sleeping.”

All I can see is you getting blown up, so no, I haven't been sleeping. Alex doesn't say it. Michael doesn't need that mental image. His own is largely fed by his experiences in the field, by the explosion that left him trapped under a collapsed building.

(It's so real it's hard to breath.)

“I've got a lead. I'll rest afterwards,” Alex says, closing the conversation and turning his attention back to his computer.

Michael says something, but he ignores him. His brothers have left few electronic traces, but Alex finally has an ID on the two airmen that work with them, and they're not as careful. They've booked motel rooms with their credit cards, several time in the last two weeks. That, combined with Alex's memory of their car license plate, should get him somewhere.

His eyes are tired, switching between monitors and traffic cameras. Michael is still trying to get his attention. He's on his phone with someone, now.

“Got them,” Alex mutters under his breath when he spots the car. “Fuck, they're close. They wouldn't come back to Roswell if they didn't have a working bomb. We need to stop them.”

He looks around him, but Michael's not here anymore. Frantically, he digs his phone out of his pocket and calls Max. “They're on the interstate,” he says when Max picks up, without letting him talk. “Heading into town.”

“What?” Max asks, confused.

“My brothers,” Alex explains, exasperated at his slowness. “We need to stop them now. Don't go alone. I'll meet you there.”

“Alex, wait−”

Alex hangs up. He grabs his keys, hoping that he can see straight enough to drive. His eyes haven't appreciated how much he's strained them lately.

(He's so fucking tired.)

He drives straight to the town limit and turns his car so it blocks the road. There aren't many cars coming in at this hour, and his brothers should be there in minutes, if his calculations are right. He takes his gun out of the glove compartment.

He's ready.

(He's got a debt to pay.)

“Alex!” Michael screams as he runs out of Max's car.

Alex is on the floor, his shirt quickly soaking up with blood. Michael ignore the man shooting at him in favor of dropping to his knees in front of Alex. Max shoots back, and soon the man has joined the other three on the floor in the middle of the street.

Michael presses over Alex's wound with his hand. “Max, I need you here!” he shouts.

Alex is loosing a lot of blood. He's barely conscious, leaning into Michael's embrace, his eyes half-open. “Dammit Alex. Why did you have to do that for?”

“Payback,” Alex murmurs.

Revenge? Against his brothers? That doesn't seem like Alex. Is that what's been motivating him so much these last few weeks? Is it about his father's death?

“For you,” Alex adds before he closes his eyes.

“What?” Michael asks, but he's unresponsive.

Max crouches beside them, laying a hand on Alex's chest, under the bloody shirt. “I can't heal him like before,” he says.

“I know,” Michael answers. “Just do your best.”

Max concentrates, and his hand starts glowing. He's been struggling with his ability, since his resurrection. It's only now, over a month later, starting to come back with any kind of consistency, and it's weak, nothing like the power he yielded to bring Rosa back to life.

Michael feels the blood flow under his hand slow, and then stop. Max lets go after a minute and stumbles back, exhausted.

“That's the best I can do,” he says. “The wound's closed superficially, but the damage is still there.”

“Thank you,” Michael says, truly meaning it. Given how much he was bleeding, he doesn't think Alex would have survived waiting for an ambulance.

They can't bring him to the hospital, not with a partly healed wound that looks fresh, so Michael fishes out his phone. He doesn't let go of Alex, who's still not moving. He calls Valenti one-handed, stuffing his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he adjusts his grip on Alex, and tells Valenti what happened.

“Bring him back to his cabin,” Valenti says when he's described Alex's state. “I'll meet you there with supplies.”

Max stumbles to his car to drink a whole bottle of acetone, and comes back stronger, to help Michael move Alex over to the car. “You drive there,” he says. “I need to take care of them.” He waves to the other car, and the four men in various states of unconsciousness lying beside it. “It looks like they have the bomb with them.”

“We're safe?”

“We're safe,” Max confirms.

Michael nods, and arranges Alex in the passenger seat, pulling back the seat so he's more comfortable. “Thank you,” he says again.

Max nods and walks away.

Valenti is already there when he arrives at Alex's cabin. Michael uses his telekinesis and his arms to get Alex all the way to his bed, and lets Valenti take over, though he refuses to leave the room. Once Valenti has confirmed that Alex is going to be okay with a lot of rest and recuperation and set up a saline and painkiller IV, Michael sits down cross-legged on the free side of the bed and waits.

It's been a strange few months, and he'll admit that he's lost track of many things, in his initial spiral down after Max's death, and in the exhilaration of getting him back. Somewhere along the way, he missed what was happening to Alex.

He still doesn't know what it is, to tell the truth. He knows he hurt Alex deeply by going to Maria, and Alex seemed to avoid him, after that. Michael tried to give him space, even after he and Maria broke up when she found out the truth about aliens. He knows what it feel like to be walked away from, after all.

But then...Alex didn't come back. And that's where he missed some kind of wild turn. He missed Jesse Manes' death at the hospital, for one thing. That must have shaken him. Valenti, the only one Alex let see him with any kind of consistency, says that Alex came to work down in his father's bunker at all hours, and stayed there whole nights.

And then, seemingly suddenly, Alex located another facility, one that didn't hold alien prisoners but a biochemical bomb, meant to wipe aliens off the planet. But they separated while they were investigating it, and, out of the blue, Michael received a video call from Flint Manes, holding his younger brother hostage. Him for the bomb, was the ransom.

It wasn't even a question in Michael's mind. Damn the consequences, he couldn't leave Alex in his brothers' hands for even one more hour. It took five to get Alex back.

Only...Flint must have done something to Alex. In Michael's mind, that's the only possible answer to the state Alex has been in since. He hasn't been sleeping, or eating much, and it show on his body, the weight he's lost. He's been in front of his computer the whole time, obsessing over finding his brothers, until he ignored even the people who came to see him. Out of desperation, they set up a roster, to have someone with him at all time, because it was the only way to get him to even drink anything. Alex didn't seem to notice.

Michael almost had a heart attack last night, when Alex collapsed and wouldn't wake up again. Valenti said it was just exhaustion, but it scared him. It would have scared him into actually doing something, which he should have done a week ago, if Alex hadn't stormed out while he was in the bathroom.

“Hey,” he says, shaking himself out of his thoughts as Alex's eyes flutter open.

“What happened?” Alex asks sluggishly, looking around him.

“You got shot. Max healed you, but only partially.”

“My brothers?”

“Alive, and in the hospital,” Michael relays Max's latest report. “We've got the bomb, and enough evidence against them to convict them. It's over.”

Alex closes his eyes, breathing through his nose. When he opens them again, they've gone emotionless. “Good,” he says.

“How do you feel?” Michael asks.

“Fine,” Alex says, too quickly.

Michael has heard that answer too many times. “No, you're not,” he says, frowning.

Alex shrugs, and winces. He presses a hand to his injured side.

“That's gonna hurt for a while,” Michael says.

“I've had worse.”

“Alex, you almost died. If I hadn't gotten there with Max−”

“But you did,” Alex says. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn't.

“I can't lose you, Alex,” Michael says. He knows it probably isn't fair, when he's the one who walked away this time. But he needs to say it. “You've been...the last few weeks, you've run yourself to the ground, and today you almost died, and I can't do this, Alex. I can't. I can't watch you destroy yourself.”

“Then...” Alex frowns, confused. “Why are you here?”

Michael wants to hit his head on a wall. “I'm here because I care about you!”

Alex shakes his head, and he looks like he wants to be anywhere else but here.

Michael tries to give him a moment, but it's too heavy, too uncomfortable.

“Alex,” he starts. “Earlier, when I asked you why you did all this, you said 'payback'. What did you mean? Is it about your father's death? Or something else?”

Alex frowns again. “I needed to pay you back,” he says, like it's obvious.

“What do you mean?”

“You payed that ransom, and it was too high a price. The bomb was more important than me. I had to make it write.”

“Pay me back,” Michael understands, the bottom of his stomach dropping.

Alex nods, as if relieved that he's understood.

“But you were more important than the bomb,” Michael says. “Of course you were!”

“Why? I'm just one person, one life against at least three. I'm not worth that. I'm not worth−” he doesn't finish.

I'm not worth anything, Michael hears the unspoken word.

“Alex, look at me,” Michael demands. Alex meets his eyes, briefly, and looks down again. To hell with caution and letting Alex move on. “You are worth so much to me. To all of us. But to me most of all.”

“I'm not good enough for you,” Alex says.

“Why are you saying that?”

“Can't you see it? It's so obvious. Maria and you are good people. You deserve each other.”

“We broke up,” Michael says, unsure how to react to the rest.

Alex swallows. “I'm sorry,” he says.

“No, it wasn't meant to be. Not when I'm in love with someone else.”

“You need to let me go,” Alex says, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Why?” Michael asks, almost afraid of the answer. “I love you, Alex. You said you loved me. Are you saying you don't, anymore?”

Alex closes his eyes. “I love you,” he says. “I love you too much. That's the problem. I can't be what you need me to be.”

“I need you to be you,” Michael says. He doesn't understand. What does Alex think he needs?

“It's not enough,” Alex shakes his head. “I'm not enough.”

Michael opens his mouth to deny it, but he closes it again. Where is this coming from?

Not enough. It echoes with something in his mind, something Alex once said. I'm never going to be good enough for my father. Michael closes his eyes.

Did he make Alex think he wasn't enough?

(When he's the one who's not enough.)

Fuck, he did. Finally a real Manes man. You're still the guy just looking for a reason to walk away. Every time. He put his own insecurity, his own fears of abandonment on Alex, and tested him. And Alex failed every test, because there was no way for him to pass.

And Alex didn't realize it wasn't okay, because no one has ever put him first. Just like Michael. They're each other's best ally and worst enemy.

(They make mistakes together.)

“I'm sorry,” he says.

“For what?” Alex asks, genuinely confused.

Michael can't articulate everything he's sorry for, so he settles for taking Alex's hand in his. “You are good enough,” he says. “I love you.”

(I'll put you first.)

Alex closes his eyes, and a tear rolls down his cheek.

“It's gonna be okay,” Michael murmurs.

(You're more than enough.)

[the-cookie-of-doom]

A Strange Convergence

Mitch walked past the alley as he had all the others, at first believing it to be empty. He would have continued on in that belief if he had no also struck a match at that very moment, to light a fresh cigarette between his lips. There, deep in the alley, he noticed a slice of pale flesh. The match burned itself down to his fingertips as he stared. Mitch dropped it to the damp ground with a hiss of pain, but his eyes never left that strange, still form. It took him longer than it should to recognize the waifish figure, iridescent moonlight catching on his slender limbs.

Deep shadows cast the alley in darkness. Mitch could hardly make out anything around the boy, that single point of light. There was nothing to see, and yet Mitch found himself stopping to watch. He leaned against the nearest wall so that he would not make too obvious a spectator, backlit by the streetlamps behind. Silver smoke filtered past his lips when he exhaled.

As Mitch watched, he noticed the oddest thing. Stiles’ shadow began to move behind him, a long, twisted thing, writhing as if in unspeakable agony. Yet the boy stood still, his face upturned in supplication. Mitch could not see his eyes, but somehow, he knew that if he could, they would be distant. Like the glass-eyed taxidermy in his uncle’s estate.

Shadows pulled away from the wall, moving with the same fluidity as the move Mitch exhaled. His eyes struggled to focus on the rippling darkness. That liquid absence of light that dew everything in; a starving, ceaseless hunger, consuming all it touched.

Mitch stood frozen with his mountain horror, watching as the shadows reached out to Stiles. It was an impossible sight, there was nothing there, nothing to cast such a sinister image, and yet it was happening right before his eyes. And undeniable, grotesque vision. Stiles’ mouth fell open in a soundless scream and Mitch was helpless to watch as they spooling darkness poured itself into him.

The cigarette burned to nothing between his fingers, the only measure of human time that existed in that alley, suddenly filled with the endless, eternal expanse of void.

Then, just as soon as the shadows had warped, they twisted themselves back into order. A reversal of the entropy surrounding Stiles, filling him, devouring him. Like a marionette with its strings cut the boy collapsed. His limbs fell in a loose tangle, and the spell was broken. Mitch rushed to him.

Already Mitch decided it was some kind of illusion, a trick played by his exhausted mind. Grief over his uncle’s death must have reached deeper than he realized, for his eyes to twist things into such horror. Still, he checked for a pulse, and was relieved to find it sluggishly breathing beneath Stiles’ ivory skin.

***

November 26, 1923

My nightly walks have continued to trouble me. I feel as though I am searching for something, although I do not know what that may be. I find myself walking a strangely familiar path each night, but I am certain I have never walked it before. I haven’t seen these streets since I was a boy; they are as foreign to me as the would be the crowded streets of London.

I feel I am not as along during this excursion as the oft-empty streets would have me believe. There is a… malevolence to the shadows. My own silhouette is alien to me. It responds to my every movement as it should, and yet it is not me. Perhaps it is that my shadow lags behind a second too slow; almost like it must consciously decide to copy me.

Sentient shadows. Not a subject I care to entertain. There is enough occupying my mind as it is. I’ll sound like Hurley before long, and I have no desire to follow his path.

It all comes back to pathways. Those trails we follow through life, forged for us by braver souls. Few seeks to blaze their own way. Fewer still find others to follow in their wake.

For some reason, my path seems to converge with Stiles’ time and again. I find myself inexplicably drawn to him. He has made several appearances of late, although I rarely confront him. Half a dozen times I’ve wanted to shake him and demand an answer: id he him following me, haunting my nights like a specter? Or do I follow him, ignorant of where he leads? Either way, I know not where we are going, only that we seem to be heading there together.

I am… troubled by him.

***

“Such a strange thing.” Mitch traced his fingers over the jagged clay figure, messily sculpted and poorly finished. It was certainly done by a novice; the clay was rough and scratched, not worn smooth by practiced hands. More than that, the geometry was senseless and odd; it made his head hurt to look for too long.

“Do you like it?”

“Christ!” Mitch almost dropped the heavy figure—thought it might be better if he had, to destroy the thing before it could cause him anymore sleepless nights—as he whirled around. Standing just outside the doorway was Stiles, with his big round eyes and his lips downturned into their perpetual moue of discontentment. Mitch set the figure back on its pedestal. As soon as it clicked into place Stiles stepped forward, and Mitch was struck by the sudden impulse to retreat, keep the heavy oak desk between them. He didn’t.

“I made it.” Stiles brushed his finger down one of the arching curves. “Do you know what it is?”

“No.”

“Me neither. It came to me in a dream.” Stiles shuddered and wrapped his arms around himselves, spindly fingers covering the jut of his elbows. “Do you ever have dreams?”

“Sometimes.” Mitch didn’t tell Stiles how more and more, he featured in them. He wondered if Stiles somehow knew anyway.

“Are they good dreams?”

His mind was forced to turn to Stiles; a strange, twisting creature, writhing in his sheets. From fear or pleasure or both, Mitch could never tell. The shadows were too severe over his features to ever fully make out the expression on his face.

“Sometimes,” Mitch answered again, because some of those dreams left him to wake panting and sticky and unable to feel the shame curdling in his belly when desire still ran so hot through his veins. More than one page in his journal was taken with frantic sketches done in the middle of the night, a hollow attempt to commit to paper what Stiles looked like in his dreams. The delicate curve of his breastbone, the rapturous arch of his spine. The open, welcome line of his legs and the soft, plush shape of his lips, always bitten red. Mitch didn’t know what possessed him to immortalize his indiscretions; perhaps if he could not see Stiles in the flesh, he could at least have this crude rendering.

Stiles pulled Mitch out of his mind just as swiftly as he had dredged up those awful imaginings he kept locked away, only to be examined in the dead of night. Mitch realized he was staring too long at Stiles’ lips when he saw them curve into a small, secretive smile. A rare thing.

“My dreams are nightmares,” Stiles said, possible—probably—for the second or third time. “They’re filled with monstrous creatures. They haunt me.” As he spoke Stiles approached, gliding over the floor, until they were almost chest to chest. Only the pedestal crowned with the crude statuette stood between them, little enough distance that Mitch could feel Stiles’ breath ghost against his jaw, second after it left his lungs. Strangely cold. Maybe he should have put the desk between them after all. “Your uncle was very interested in my dreams. He has me tell him about each one, recording them into his little wax cylinders, taking his notes. My draws as well, and my sculptures. Are you interested in them, too, doctor?”

“Yes,” Mitch breathed. There was nothing else for him to say. Anything else would stop Stiles from speaking to him, break this strangely intimate moment between them.

“Maybe I’ll tell you of them, then. Mr. Hurley always wanted to hear about them straight away. While they were fresh in my mind, he said. He even let me stay here for a time, while he conducted his research, holding vigil outside my bedroom at night.” Stiles leaned in a little closer and looked up through his long eyelashes, moistened his lips with his tongue. “Truth be told, I think he would watch me as I slept. Only to note down anything I said, of course. Things I wouldn’t remember come morning. I think that’s would he would have said if I ever caught him.”

“If you thought he was watching you, why did you let him?”

“I liked it,” Stiles said simply. Mischief sparked in his golden eyes, at offs with his deceptive, innocent demeanor. “Knowing he was watching over me made me feel safe. I haven’t been able to sleep since he died; I still feel like something is watching me. Do you think you could help me, doctor?”

Mitch stumbled over nothing. Mistakenly, he tried to catch himself on the thin pedestal and instead overbalanced it. Stiles sculpture crashed onto the ground and broke; too blunt and heavy to shatter, although the delicate, wispy pieces on the edges splintered away. Thich crevasses cleaved apart the heavy core.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Mitch leant down to pick up the pieces, but the damage was done.

“it’s alright.” Stiles tilted his head consideringly. “Looks better this way. More right.” Stiles left without another word, leaving Mitch to stare after him in bewilderment.

“What the hell was that?” Mitch asked the now-empty room. He picked up the largest pieces of the statuette and tried to fit them together again, to see if they could be salvaged. Mitch couldn’t figure out how to align the pieces. Somehow, the hardened clay was distinctly twisted into a new shape, no longer fitting against itself.

Mitch resolved to throw it away and think of it no more.

[bestwishes86]

Open Container

"I got a good feeling. It doesn't happen. Very Often." Phoebe Bridgers

When David got the call he was just sitting down in his living room with "Game of Thrones" on his 42 inch flat screen.  The fresh bowl of Pop Secret and a Heineken sat on the polished coffee table. Hadley was at the Tailgating party for the Puritans and he was on call with the station.  He had spent the morning cleaning the upscale brownstone once back from Seattle to clear his head. The drive with that gay asshole had fucked with him more than he wanted to think about.  So he had busied himself, not thinking about him walking out of the missing woman's shower naked.  He could still see the words in other languages and black swirls running across that pale skin.  As he had polished every surface he could still see the tattoos had covered even the plump flaccid cock between those thick legs.

His bookshelves were filled with paperback novels from the eighties and nineties and every Disney movie with the large white boxes and the faded art and a selection of dvds.  The books and movies had belonged to his parents and he couldn't bring himself to throw any of it away.  His wife Penelo had done the decorating and so three oil paintings of landscapes in polished wood frames hung on the walls on either side of the flat screen. 

David sat on the soft dark leather couch and was pulling his remote to him when his phone rang.  Internally he thought about ignoring it incase it was another call about cow tipping or another horrible trip to Seattle to pick up another gay asshole who smelled like honeysuckle and blood.  Seeing the name LInds on the caller id he grabbed it and swiped right to answer it.

"Deputy, do you know a Jon Redding?" the deep voice of the Siren by night hard as nails, raven haired woman asked. 

"Yes...why?" David asked slowly, staring at the burning emblem of the show and the paused status bar at the bottom of the screen.

"You should probably cut him off, he's down here talking about loving someone who didn't exist and getting thrown into posters and that's not what the boring patrons want to hear, now is it?" Linds asked as she looked at the usually handsome bearded man who looked ready to pass out or throw up sitting alone at a table.  The other customers were human ones and she had sung two of her magical songs to distract them from him.  David felt a headache building behind his furrowed brows but he still rose from the couch and hung up the call and grabbed his keys. 

Jon stared at his empty glass, his mind muddled by the many drinks that had come before as he thought about that alternate version of himself.  While he was a short, muscular young man covered in witches spells.  That dreamed up version was a chubby, pasty coward.  He missed feeling that weak and vulnerable and the way Pete had looked at him.  Jon shook his head at the memory of the tall, pale muscular teenager with those green eyes and that square jaw.  But it was too late, he remembered the dream Pete had been in and been gutted in.  Tears burned at the corners of his eyes

"It wasn't real, none of it." Jon shouted to himself and all the bar patrons glared at him as they had every outburst he had made in the last hour.  He knew it was stupid, knew it was a waste of emotion but those feeiings he had felt in that mental prison had become a part of him.  He had been quiet the entire drive back with that asshole homophobe because he was etching into his memory those three dreams because of Pete.  The witch he had planned on eating had trapped him inside her mental prisons had made the imagined world so real he had created real feelings. 

"This seat taken," a gruff pissed off voice asked and Jon waved a hand in acceptance and grimaced at the loud scrapping of the wood against the concrete floor. David plopped down and held a hand up for the waitress.  HIs brown eyes looking over Jon, the man had worn a dark blue sweater and jeans with loafers.  David thought about his old Smashing Pumpkins t shirt and pajama bottoms and barefeet. He chuckled at this but when the red in the face spikey haired man looked at him, his smile fell away.

"You...." Jon said growling in distrust

"Hey man, Heard you were drinking here so I came by too," David was cut off by Jon

"You came here dressed like that to drink with me, no offense but unless you're going to knock me out and take me back to your house for a hard fucking, i'm gonna pass." Jon said looking David up and down and reaching for his glass having forgotten it was empty.  He grimaced at the mere hints of alcohol in it and waved for the waitress while David glared at him. 

"Do you have to go straight to sex every time i meet you." David said between gritted teeth.

"We've met twice. Second, what else am I good for? Never mind that last point. You don't even know me is what I'm trying to say." Jon slurred in a voice that was something between indignant and a purr.  David rolled his eyes at him and Jon slumped back in his chair.

"Why would I want to? I'm just here to make sure you don't talk about shit you promised you wouldn't." David paused as the waitress appeared he ordered two Rum Punches and a Budwiser. 

"I didn't say you could buy a drink for me," Jon said as he closed his eyes

"I didn't, those are all for me." David said as he glared at LInds who waved apologetically. 

"Ok. Did the bartender alert you to me talking too much," Jon asked and Davd nodded.

"I just...never mind it's stupid once you're drunk we can leave," Jon said as the two red glasses and the bottle arrived.

"You want anything," David asked, his expression softened as he smelled the sadness coming off Jon and heard the pain in his voice. Jon reached for one of the rum punches and David smacked his hand.

"Mine," David said drawing the glass away from the drunkard, he continued, "I meant something else. I got you for it, I already covered your bill," David said and Jon thought about it for a moment and asked for a Bud Light.  David raised an eyebrow  but placed the order the two sat in heavy silence.  David occasionally glanced at the drunk man stare at the table and the empty glass, it was clear his mind was somewhere else. David finished his first drink and curled his toes on the cold floor.  Jon's beer arrived and David watched Jon drink half of it one go.  He watched the Adam's apple bob with each swallow before he looked away. 

"Have you ever missed someone you shouldn't," Jon asked and David sat up uncomfortable as he looked at Jon.  The image of the beautifully deformed half woman half wolf chained to walls in an institution flashed in David's mind.

"Yeah, hurts all the same." David said solemnly thinking of his wife.  His Alpha had told him to kill her, to end her suffering but he couldn't.  So he had driven her to that asylum and chained her up himself.  Her human mind was gone, buried inside the feral wolf mind that ruled that malformation.

"It really really fucking does.  In that place that woman held me, there was a boy my mind made up.  He was...kind to me.  The first person in my life to be kind to me ended up being my own imagination...how fucked is that." Jon said and as he admitted it two large tears began their descent down his cheeks.  They were soon chased by more and he quietly wept.  He didn't care if David said something else assholey to him.  If the bar patrons kicked him out, none of it mattered as he watched the large stainless steel meat hook burst out of Pete's broad chest.  His mind had drifted back to that nightmarish prison he had been kept in.  He and Pete had run from the blank faced woman up the stairs of his home to his bedroom and locked the door behind them.  It had happened so suddenly as they had caught their breath.  She had burst through the wood, her scream almost deafening as Pete had run at her with his chair as a weapon.  She had smacked him away so effortlessly and then glowered at him.

Jon had stood there frozen in horror as the woman took slow strides toward him, she had reached into that dusty overcoat and pulled the metal hook from it and it caught the light of the room and glistened.  He had wanted to brave, wanted to try something to save them but he had been so afraid.  Pete had run in front of Jon to save him from it in that made up nightmare.  Jon could feel the moment when life left Pete's body.  It was if something was pulled from his body, ripped away with that second in life.  It didn't matter if it was real or not, it had felt real to him. 

Strong hands were on his shoulders, he felt his body rising up as he was swung up into someone's arms but he didn't care.  He kept his eyes closed as he was carried out of the bar.  The cool night air felt heavenly on his face.  He buried his head against the hard flat chest he was pressed against.  Jon focused on the heart beating strong beneath the shirt and skin and muscle there.  It was real, in that drunken moment it was the only thing real to him.

David had felt his wolf howl in pain watching the quiet crying, he had tried to ignore it.  But that open honest act of feeling had struck him in the gut.  He had looked around and saw that the once loud raucous bar was silent as everyone watched Jon.  That had been what caused him to rise from his seat and carry him out.  Carrying the muscular man might have been hard for a normal man but for one with preternatural strength it was like carrying a newborn pup.  He ignores the gravel that dug into the skin of his bare feet as he listens to the steady heart beat.  Keeping Jon close to him kept his wolf from howling in mourning so he did.  Linds was behind him a few steps, she silently watched him, he could feel her eyes on his back as he made his way through the packed parking lot to his truck.   The tall, slender, dark haired woman wore a red velvet corset that pushed up her sizable chest and painted on black jeans and boots.  Her race's language was tattooed across her arms in dark blue swaths of color.  She opened the door for him and he placed Jon inside. 

It wasn't til he buckled the seatbelt that she spoke.  There were only a few reasons Sirens were ever silent and he knew it wouldn't be good but he listened, his focus on making sure Jon was secure.

"I've seen your future, the same as I saw it when your daddy broke your right arm.  The man I saw you kissing in your future, he's that man there. He is exactly as I described it to you 15 years ago. You came here the instant you heard it was him.  That means something Davey," Linds said and David whirled around to face her.  His brown eyes burning gold with the power of his wolf burning right beneath his skin.

"Jesus H. Christ Linds!!! I don't fucking need this shit. This man is the top suspect in a woman's disappearance. My wife is in a fucking padded cell. Everytime I see her she rips my throat out and I watch her eat it. And you're here reminding me that 15 years ago my dad took a hammer and shattered my elbow. Spit on me and called me a faggot, all for this sad sack of shit who was in your bar mooning over a made up teenage crush that I am jealous of." LInds eyebrows shot up the same as his as he realized what he said.  He couldn't take it back.  Linds watched the lean werewolf vibrate with shock and anger.  She knew she should be afraid but all she wanted to do was the same thing she had done when they had been teenagers. She reached out for him but he took a step back, not trusting the low growling wolf inside his soul. 

He had sat in that bar watching those tears and selfishly wished they had been for him, not some made up boy.  He felt immature and selfish and wanted to be alone but instead he fished his keys out of his pocket and stormed around to the driver's side of the truck and got in and without a word drove off as Linds watched him go. 

[old-read-all-about-kpop]

Anonymous:  Hello!! Could you write oneus reaction to their s/o waking up in the middle of the night bcs they have a nightmare? Thank you! 💕

A/N: I always wanted to write something like this! I’m sorry for the long wait darling. My mom underwent surgery last week and I’ve been tending to her. I am sincerely sorry. I hope you enjoy reading this reaction 💓💓💓💓

Ravn

Your whimpers, soft at first but gradually growing in volume, were what startled Ravn awake. He looked over his shoulder, seeing you in obvious distress as you tossed and turned in your sleep. Your hairline was shiny with sweat, and your eyebrows were knitted together.

Ravn turned over to face you. He watched in worry, wondering what you could possibly be enduring in your slumber. 

He didn’t want to wake you, thinking that it would only make your situation worse. Instead, he chose to shush you quietly and gently run his fingers through your hair. 

Like magic, you calmed down, releasing an almost inaudible sigh. Your face relaxed, and your body settled into the mattress. 

Ravn smiled, proud that he could come to the rescue. He then pulled you into the safety of his arms, peppered your hair with kisses, and snuggled into the warmth of the blankets. Knowing that you could now sleep in peace, sleepiness overcame his senses once again and pulled him back into oblivion.

Seoho

You knocked out early. You have been cramming for your exams and, therefore, pulled all-nighters. You hated every second of it as you knew that it meant less sleep for you, but you had to. Now, it was finally Friday, and you could sleep, not having to worry about another exam until next semester. 

Seoho was next to you on the bed, watching television on low volume so it won’t disturb your well-deserved slumber. He would glance at you occasionally with a grin, content on knowing that his sweet baby could finally rest.

A little while later, you started squirming, letting out pained gasps. Seoho tore his eyes away from the TV to look at you, utterly worried. He froze in place, unsure what to do in this situation.

You woke up with a start then, gasping for air as you gripped onto Seoho’s waist tighter. He hissed slightly, feeling your nails dig into the flesh you once touched tenderly in your sleep. But he disregarded the pain quickly, placing you as his number one priority.

“Hey, hey,” Seoho said softly. “It’s okay, babygirl/boy.” He slowly rested his hand on your cheek, rubbing the supple flesh lovingly.

You leaned into his touch, sighing heavily. The fear that caused your heart to accelerate and your limbs to be on fight-or-flight mode ceased. 

Seoho scooted down on the bed and pulled you flush against his body. You immediately snuggled deep in his tight embrace, relishing in his warmth.

“Go back to sleep, my love. I’ll be here if anything happens.”

Leedo

Leedo was enjoying his book while you slept between his legs, your cheek pressed against his chest. After each chapter, Leedo would pause to rub your back tenderly or stroke your cheek with his thumb. Sometimes he would even press a kiss to the top of your head with pure adoration. He just couldn’t stop himself as he held happiness in his heart, knowing that neither of you had anywhere to go today.

He resumed in reading with a smile on his face. But, soon after, he felt you jolt violently, almost causing him to drop his book on your face.

Right when he moved his book away from you, you raised yourself up quickly. Your eyes were wide, fear evident in them. Your breathing was uneven, leading you to almost choke when you tried taking a deep breath.

Leedo sat up, taking hold of your face so you could focus on him and only him. “It’s okay, baby. Calm down. Deep breaths.” He then began to demonstrate, prompting you to follow his lead. 

Eventually, your heart was no longer pounding, and your breathing was back to normal. You sighed in relief and fell into your boyfriend, tightly wrapping your arms around his waist. Knowing you have returned to reality, you completely melted into Leedo.

Not saying a word, Leedo leaned against the headboard. He placed a hand on your head and rubbed your scalp delicately. He didn’t need to hear you say you were okay. He could feel it.

Keonhee

You told Keonhee you didn’t want to watch the newest horror movie. But, your complaints and protests simply fell on deaf ears. So, you had no choice but to sit through the gory film, cowering behind a sofa cushion. Keonhee misinterpreted your actions as you being overdramatic, leading to him teasing you every now and then during the horrific movie. You wished your boyfriend wasn’t so obtuse.

The sky was now the color of coal, and the movie finally ended. But, you knew the horror was yet to leave the crevices of your mind. You were in for a long night, and you dreaded it.

Sure enough, in the late hours of the night/early hours of the morning, you broke out in a cold sweat, tossing and turning as your mind played horrible images for you to try to fight off in your subconsciousness. 

Soon enough, you woke up with a scream, being met by further darkness, provoking you to curl into yourself. Keonhee was startled awake by your cry, turning wildly to find you letting out choked sobs as you rocked back and forth.

“Sweetheart, my love, what’s wrong?” he asked, wretched with concern as he observed your body for any external injuries. He even looked around the dark room, expecting to find an intruder or a murderer. 

You were shaking like a leaf, the ghastly images waiting to pounce on your poor subconscious the minute you were to close your eyes. You let out another choked sob, wishing for the demons to leave so you could sleep in peace.

Keonhee was punched with guilt, having already connected your frightened state to the horror movie he forced you to watch with him. He knew you hated horror movies, the nightmares being the number one reason why, but he disregarded you. Shame gripped his heart harshly. 

Slowly, Keonhee pulled you into his embrace. He hummed quietly, hoping the tunes would calm you. He rubbed your back, rocking you back and forth like a baby. 

Finally, you calmed down. Sleep took over your senses once again. Keonhee watched as you breathed deeply, your lips apart in a lovely pout, and your lashes fluttering above your cheekbones. 

The majority of the night, Keonhee didn’t sleep a blink. He refused his body to succumb to tiredness for the guilt he held was too grand. He thought of numerous ways to make it up to you. You were his precious princess/prince, and he wanted to make it right.

Hwanwoong

Hwanwoong was chilling on the couch in the living room while you took a nap upstairs. Your cycle has been draining your energy every second of these past four days and you needed rest. So, once your sweet boyfriend tucked you in, you indulged yourself with two lovely hours of sleep.

But, your mind had other plans for you as it hindered you with awful images, causing you to thrash around in the bed before letting out a shriek that could shatter glass.

Hwanwoong raced to you two’s shared bedroom. His hands trembled as he took hold of the doorknob and pushed the door open, causing it to slam against the wall. He breathed rapidly with no pattern as his eyes landed on you. 

You were trying to regain a proper breathing pattern as you searched your body, confident that you were missing a finger or two and had a hole in your chest. The nightmare felt too real for you not to check. 

Hwanwoong crept toward you, hoping not to scare you further. Once he reached your side of the bed, you leaped into his arms. Whatever pieces that were missing were restored within you once you entered your boyfriend’s protective embrace. All was right with the world as you tucked your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent until you could identify every note in his cologne.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Hwanwoong eventually asked, seeing you in a much calmer state.

You held onto him tighter, shaking your head. You didn’t want to risk giving the little devils power by speaking of them.

Hwanwoong rubbed your back affectionately. “I understand.” He kissed your temple. “Do you wanna come down to the living room with me and watch cartoons?”

You nodded your head. “Please.”

With no further words, Hwanwoong picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and made his way out the room. With you as his precious cargo, he journeyed his way to the living room, more than happy to get your mind off that terrifying nightmare.

Xion

Xion was sleeping when he heard a familiar song playing loudly next to him. He reluctantly opened his eyes, instantaneously becoming grumpy due to his sleep being disturbed. He had a schedule to follow in the early hours of the day and he needed to grab as much rest as possible. But then awareness started to sweep away his grogginess, leading him to fathom the song that was playing. 

He gasped as he hurriedly grabbed his phone, answering the call without sparing a glance at the caller ID. “Hello? Baby?”

He heard you sniffle, causing his face to develop a deep frown. “I’m sorry, JuJu.” You sniffled again. “I was hoping I would get your voicemail.” You giggled, but it sounded strained like you were choked.

“Why would you hope that when you could hear the real thing?” He furrowed his brows. “Besides, you know I have my phone on loud for you. I told you that.”

“I know,” you whined. “But I still wish that you didn’t answer.” You paused. “You know what? Just call me when it’s suitable for you. I’m sorry. It was selfish of me to call you at this ungodly hour, knowing that you have things to do in a couple of hours. I shouldn’t have called-”

“Y/n, stop,” Xion said sternly. 

“Xion, I-”

“Stop.”

You went silent.

Xion wet his lips with his tongue before speaking. “Sweetheart. My sweet baby. My one and only. My precious gem. You could never bother me. You could never disturb me. Whenever you need me, you call me. I told you that before. Now, when I said this, I expected you to take advantage of it. I know you’re not selfish and won’t call me every second you have a problem, that’s not you. Hence why I offered up my services like I’m doing right now. Baby, I don’t care about the things I have to do in the morning. I don’t care. You are my number one priority right now. You need me right now, so here I am.”

You were speechless. What good deed did you do to be gifted such a wonderful man like Son Dongju? From the sweet names to the statement that you were his number one priority, Xion just confessed his love to you without having to say the L word. That had you feeling overly warm with love.

So, until the dark sky turned to the subtle shades of grey and blue, you told Xion about your nightmare but chose to ditch the details. Xion, being absolutely understanding, listened intently. He put in a few words here and there but, overall, he listened to you. Because that’s what you needed from him. And he would happily accept that role if it meant relieving you of the terrors you faced in your slumber.

A/N: I’m finally done! I could have definitely been done with this days ago if Tumblr wasn’t such a booger eater! But, nonetheless, I have completed your request my dear! 👏🎉 I’m genuinely sorry for the long wait. Don’t hesitate to reach out again for another request (when they’re open again of course) and I hope you enjoyed reading this 💓

[treasure-my-aurora]

One More Night. Pt 6

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong / fem!Reader

Chapter: 6/14

Genre: Mutual pining, canon compliant, fluffy af, angsty af, suggestive, teasing and filled with that good shit that everyone loves

Words in this chapter: 5240

It was the 29th and four days had passed since we got back to Korea after the Europe tour. Three of those days were spent to properly come back on my feet and find my previous everyday schedule. I hadn’t heard from Hongjoong since I said goodbye to them outside their dorm, his fingers had brushed over my hair and he held me a little closer than the rest of the staff, revelled in the feeling of my body against his and I avoided his eyes, not trusting that we weren’t watched. I laid on my bed, restless as I didn’t have anything planned for the day, scrolling down the feed of the same four apps I frequently used, and I felt empty as the cold loneliness of my apartment seemed to swallow me whole. I looked up at the ceiling, and let my phone fall out of my hand against the bed. I couldn’t help but wonder what he did now? If he’d repeated the moment, we shared the last night in Moscow in his mind as many times as I had? But he was probably busy with music production. Their new comeback was in seven weeks and knowing him, four of those weeks would be spent in the studio, perfecting the songs and performance. I sighed and curled up in a fetal position, my hands were tucked into the arms of my sweatshirt and I closed my eyes, shuddered slightly from the cold. I didn’t know why I always seemed to freeze, my radiators were on full blast and I never had a window opened. I blamed it on the fact that I was raised in a big family in a small house, four siblings in one room, barely enough space for our two bunk beds while growing up and ever since I came to the capital, I’d been cold. Until I got my job and got to know Hongjoong, of course. Now I only froze when I was without him, usually when I was on my own in my apartment. I turned around in my bed, onto my stomach and giggled softly to myself when his old shirt came into view, bundled next to my pillows like he’d left it there intentionally to keep me company. I flushed slightly as the sudden domestic image entered my mind and I frowned, a bittersweet pain in the pit of my stomach over the dream that could never be. I rolled over again, my feet hit the floor and I paused, almost impressed with myself that I’d scored the landing but it didn’t last long as I accidently stepped on my laptop charger a bit further down and I cursed loudly as the sudden pain shot from my foot to my leg. A knock on my door stopped my hopping around and I winched, still in pain as I limped over, opened it and gave, not Hongjoong but his manager, a weird look. I wasn’t even aware that he knew where I lived but I guessed that my address must be somewhere on all the papers they had on me. “I was sent to pick you up. Are you presentable?” He asked, as if he wasn’t standing right in front of me and I scoffed, huffed my chest out and the manager looked at me like he wanted to slam me down in a wrestling match. I curled my lip at him, I knew how much he looked down on us styling noona’s. Especially me since I was one of the youngest on my team and also the one who quickly earned the most respect. I didn’t know if it was because he thought that we had a less important job than him or because he simply hated young successful women, but I didn’t like him, and he didn’t like me. “I’m ‘presentable’” I said, using citations and grabbed my keys, phone and wallet and he scoffed back at me, walked first down to the car that awaited us while I locked the door. Not having the courtesy of even waiting at the front entrance door, but sitting in the front passenger's seat already, talking on his phone while I jumped into the back with a sigh. I could only guess the horrors that awaited me at my office, not knowing if there was a problem with the wardrobe or if I would have to sit up all night because a piece of accessory had broken. “He’s in the studio” The manager said shortly, not even looking at me when he beeped his card on the swinging gate at the reception, which separated the lobby and waiting room with the rest of the company and took two steps at the time up the stairs to his office. I looked after him, an almost amused smile on my puzzled face as I shook my head and took the elevator to the third floor. I knocked on the door to the studio, more as a warning than an ask to come in, waited a few seconds and then opened the door. Hongjoong sat in the chair, right finger clicking, dragging music pieces back and forth in a program to create the sound he looked for. His chin rested in his left hand and he turned his head to see who just entered, still in the same slumped over position, an irritated wrinkle between his brows that quickly soften out when he saw that it was me and he broke out in a big smile, turned around completely and I couldn’t do anything but return his smile, my heart flipping and I felt how a flush covered my body when he looked at me with a warmth I couldn’t describe but wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. “Noona… “ He breathed and swallowed, “I’m happy you came” I blushed, my head in the gutter as usual and I couldn’t help but remember a flash of how he’d looked when he came undone before my eyes a few days ago. “Yeah… I missed you” I said, and he sighed, “You can call, you know if you miss me too… I don’t work all the time” He said, and I gave him a questionable look. I knew as well as him that he often was the last one to leave the company, just before the black sky would turn a mixed grey. “You can call too” I tried to defend myself and he combed back his hair, a bit embarrassed. “I know you’re busy…” He trailed off. “And I don’t want to bother you either” I said, and he smiled softly, “You could never bother me” I looked away, a smile on my lips as I realized that we were both idiots; my fingers nervously fiddled with my nails. There was a small pause between us, and I inhaled deeply, my smile faltered slightly, and I asked, “Was it something you wanted or?” “Oh” He scratched his neck awkwardly and gulped, avoided my gaze and sat up more properly in the chair, “I wanted to talk about what happened that last night on tour” I nod and it felt like my heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach with worry, “I just wanted to tell you that nothing I did was because I had a drink prior to meeting you. There’s nothing I regret. You know that, I hope?” He asked and I nod again, and butterflies quickly replaced the dread in my stomach at his sweet words. “I don’t regret what we did either but…” I started and Hongjoong smiled at the confirmation that we felt the same, relief behind his eyes, but the smile quickly fell though, and he finished my sentence for me, “But that’s the line” “That’s the line” I repeated, and my heart ached to hold him, feel his body against mine after these long agonizing four days, “People have noticed the change of air around us… Eunji keeps asking me if I want to change my focus as if she’s hinting that I won’t have a choice to do so on my own soon and just yesterday, one of my colleagues asked me about our relationship because she had been at the dorm to pick up some clothes, and overheard Seonghwa complain to Yeosang that you and I quote ‘barely had time for them anymore because if you weren’t at the studio, you were lost in your mind thinking about me and that it was difficult to raise a family on his own’ … I mean that last one is probably him exaggerating it, but you get the point” I said and Hongjoong nodded, a sad expression on his face as his gaze was fastened diagonally down and he swayed anxiously from side to side in his chair. “What have you told them? He asked thoughtfully, a bothered wrinkle between his brows and I shrugged. “I tried to tell them as much of the truth as I could. We’re friends, good friends and that even though we feel attracted to each other, we know where the line is and what we would sacrifice if we crossed that line” He nodded again and I sighed, tired from this constant feeling of needing to hide. “Come” He said and patted on a chair next to him, “Let’s forget about them for a minute or two. What do you think about this?” He gave me the headphones, my fingers brushed against his and I listened to the music he created, my heart full of affection and his smile bright.

…….

It was the beginning of May and I was just about to go out and get dinner when my phone rang. I picked it up, not looking at the caller ID and Wooyoung’s frenzied voice rambled something incoherent. All I could hear was ‘Hongjoong’ and something that sounded like ‘come quick’ at the other end. “Slow down, Youngie. What are you talking about?” I said, my heart rushing as I started to jog down to where my car was parked just as Wooyoung took a deep breath at the other end, “Just hurry, we’re home” Before the call ended and I cursed, got into my car, out of breath from my anxious state already and drove as quickly as I dared to the boy’s dorm. I arrived 10 minutes later, parked and jumped out the car, feared the worst when I unlocked the entrance door with a shaky hand. Took the short stairs up in three steps and then unlocked their front door as well, slammed it behind me and rushed in. “What happened?” I yelled out, prepared to see a full wardrobe of ripped clothing, blood, someone passed out or something else horrible but all I could see was eight pairs of eyes, standing in the living room, dressed in gym clothes as if they’d just came back from dance practise. Wooyoung, San, Mingi and Yunho stood in a half circle around the rest of the members, Hongjoong on his knees, Seonghwa in front of him, holding him down with both hands on his shoulders, Jongho behind him in a similar position with Yeosang just next to him, kitchen scissors in one hand, paused in the middle of a movement, and Hongjoong’s mullet was placed between the two blades, execution style. “Noona… save me, please” Hongjoong begged, relief on his face and he looked at me like I was his knight in shining armour. He tried to wiggle out of their grip but Jongho just shook his head and pressed down on his shoulders harder, almost bending Hongjoong’s knees to a sitting position instead before he gave Yeosang a small nod, “Bye bye mullet” Yeosang sang happily and the snip that followed, echoed between us as a piece of hair dramatically fell to the floor like a leaf in autumn. “Wow, savage” Seonghwa said almost impressed and Yeosang winked at him with finger guns after the scissor was handled to Yunho, another snip followed and Hongjoong hung his head, a pout on his lips as his pride and joy was cut away. “This is what I rushed here for?” I couldn’t help but exclaim, a bit pissed off that it wasn’t anything more serious. “What do you mean? This is a religious experience” Wooyoung said, almost offended as he ritually snipped away another piece of hair before the scissors continued to travel. “We’ve been fighting him for almost an hour and hoped that your input would help him get over the fact that it’s time” Seonghwa said and Hongjoong looked up at him angrily before his eyes moved over to mine. “Why didn’t you tell me about the new concept?” He said a bit hurt and I frowned. “I only plan your wardrobe. I’ve gotten a colour scheme and a mood board and that’s it. We’ll get to know more, just as you at the meeting tomorrow. What do you know about it?” I asked confused as Jongho received the scissors to snip away the last piece while he answered my question. “We only know that hyung’s hair is going to get shorter and the styling noonas gave us the pleasure to cut off the main parts. “My hair” Hongjoong said unhappily and looked down where the traces of the mullet had collected at his feet, before his fingers reached back to touch his naked neck. I couldn’t help but giggle at his misery then, still a bit sour but happy that Wooyoung had called me after all and the members joined in stifled chuckles as they put the scissors away. Jongho leaned down, picked up a strand of hair and said with an impressively straight face, “We could probably sell this to a good price” Seonghwa shook his head, a disapproving look on his face, but a smile still played on his lips as he grabbed the vacuum cleaner. - “Good afternoon” The hair stylist and Hongjoong looked up at the same time, meeting my eyes in the mirror in front of them, both thinking I said it specifically for them and smiled at me before they greeted me as well. I sat down in the chair next to Hongjoong, turned it to look at him and he was just about to do the same when the hairstylist grabbed the side of his head and just avoided a dangerous accident as she shaved away any last traces of the long hair in his neck. The meeting that morning had gone well, and the company wasted no time to turn the members styles around as soon as they got an ok. The other ones were already done, and all anxiously waited for Hongjoong’s big reveal in the dance practise room a few doors down. The only reason why I’d been allowed in was simply to discuss styling and hair colouring with the one that was going to do it and I was lucky to work in a company that considered my approach as well, since I was deep down in the work of creating his wardrobe. “So… I talked to my colleagues” She started and parted his hair in the middle, softly pulling on either side of his fringe, “and since the concept is leaning towards a summer vibe… we figured red would be a good look… think auburn for ‘Illusion’ and then maybe a bit darker for ‘Wave” Hongjoong looked up in surprise, his eyes met the stylist before they flicked to mine through the mirror and I nodded, a bit impressed with the outside of the box thinking. It would definitely be the biggest change within the group. “I say go for it. I think I'd look good” I said but Hongjoong wasn’t convinced. “Just good?” He asked and I rolled my eyes. “No, not just good, you’re gonna look amazing, Joongie. Trust me on this one” I said, confidence in my voice and he sighed with a nod, almost as if he trusted my judgement more than he trusted his own. “Well…” He clicked his tongue, “I’ve never had a reason to doubt you before, let’s go” - The recording of Illusion would take two days and Eunji and I, together with our colleagues helped each other to load the truck with clothes and accessories to the film set. It was an hour drive to the location, and I was anxious to start working, excited for the new step in the development of the members story. We loaded off, paused for a quick lunch, still standing, one hand holding the food while the other was busy counting and checking the items to make sure that each piece went to each member. The group themselves arrived a few minutes later and I inhaled deeply when Hongjoong came into view, the auburn hair made him look incredible and he smiled greatly when he saw me, just as I paused to stare at him in the middle of a motion. He held out his arms to give me a hug, but I interrupted with a hushed “Not here” before I grabbed my rack of clothes, feeling my heart hammer hard in my chest. He followed me without a word to a more secluded area that had been fixed so that the members could dress in peace. “Hi” He said softly and immediately closed his arms around me, like he hadn’t seen me for days. “Hi” I said back and swallowed, his new appearance made him almost seem like a different person but he still smelled and felt the same and I closed my eyes as I buried my face into the crook of his neck, still expected the long hair that now were gone, to tickle me in the face. “How do I look?” He asked, still a bit unsure of this new style of his and I let him go slightly to properly look at him. My fingers reached out to pull on the short hair in the back of his neck before they travelled down, over his neck and I felt how he gulped under my fingertips as they travelled under his chin when I turned his head from side to side, coming dangerously close to his face. I nodded, pursed my lips and gave him a satisfied smile. “Let’s just say that, if we would be dating, I’d take off your clothes for a whole other reason than forcing you to put on new ones,” I said, thinking that I was real clever but Hongjoong was better, he always was. “You’d let me take you right here against the wall?” Voice husky and a smirk on his lips and my cocky smile faltered slightly as I looked up at him again, my heart flipped from the intensity in his voice, and he backed me up with three short steps as he talked, my back hit the concrete wall behind me with a small thump. He pressed himself against me and my breath hitched, both from the sudden impact and the lethal look in his eyes as he leaned forward, close enough to brush his nose against mine. I swallowed hard, eyes closed as I collected myself for a second, forced back a groan as my stomach did somersaults, and I gulped, heart raced. in my chest. “I’ll let you take me here against the wall” I whispered back and met his eyes again. Arousal pooled between my legs as he gasped, breathlessly, surprised that I not only nibbled at the bait he laid out but swallowed it whole. He softly twirled a lock of my hair around his finger and I braced myself, fully prepared to finally feel his soft lips press against mine. But the feeling never came as he took a step back from me instead with a chuckle and I fell forward slightly, my body unconsciously chased after his. “It’s unfortunate that I made a promise a few months ago then, babe” He said, sticking out his tongue at me and I shook my head, bit my lower lip and a smile tugged on them as he teased me with words that could’ve been my own. A smile that quickly faltered when my gaze flicked down as he unzipped his jeans. He smiled dangerously and my gaze lingered on his crotch for a few seconds before they went back up to his eyes, a twinkle in them that I hated to love. He knew that he was hard and his cock, big and proudly erect, pushed against the insides of his underwear. He licked his lower lip, bit softly on it to suppress a choked gasp as he looked at me and I looked back at him. Both hearts excitedly pounding and the need for each other made us yearn, writhe as we watched each other like two carnivores ready to attack. It shouldn’t affect me as much as it did, we’d been in this situation for far too many times by now. But I couldn’t help it. Hongjoong let his jeans pool at his ankles, the belt buckle hit the floor with a soft clang, and I flinched slightly at the sound as he challenged me with his gaze. Provoked the side of me that he’d wrapped around his little finger and I tensed my jaw as I swallowed and clenched around nothing, the burning wetness between my legs made me pout. But two people could play this game and I leaned back against the wall again, one hand stroked down my body while I placed my index finger on my tongue, simulating what I’d do if it would be his cock and Hongjoong’s head tilted to one side like a confused puppy, enticed, eyebrows raised with a curious smile tugging on his lips and his gaze on me was overshadowed with lust. I reached up to grasp my left boob, kneading it hard and gasped, the feeling of his hooded eyes spurred me on as I reached down to tease my clit over my clothes. “That promise is a real pity, right?” I said, my legs rubbing against each other as I teased him and his eyelids fell, lips parted and he swallowed hard as he submitted to his lust, his own hand sneaked down to the front of his underwear and he shuddered as he closed his hand over his twitching cock, eyes rolled back, his toned stomach clenched and my breath hitched as I quickly unzipped and plunged my hand into my pants as well, my eyes closed as my fingers found my clit. Hongjoong’s hand reached over to the nape of my neck, softly pulling on my hair and I groaned at the feeling, basically melted into his touch. I opened my eyes again as his hand moved over to cup my face, lovingly, with his thumb softly stroking my cheek and I swallowed hard, my chest swelled with affection for him and I couldn’t help but look down, to where his body flushed against mine and I could feel the erratic movements of his hand against my lover stomach as it moved quickly over his length. “Fuck, baby girl, you look so beautiful like this” He whispered into my ear and I shuddered as he leaned over and pressed a light kiss underneath my earlobe, the feeling of his soft lips against my skin for the first time made me fall into a frenzy and I whined as he pushed me up harder against the wall with his body weight, “You’re soaking wet aren’t you? God, I wish I could just move those panties aside and fuck you so hard you’d be stumbling out of here” He moaned against me and my head fell into the crook of his neck as I inhaled. The smell of him filled my senses and made my blood boil as I imagined him to do all the things he wanted, “You wish you I could so as well don’t you? Wish that I’d come inside that tight, pretty cunt of yours, huh?” I nodded, my mind so deep into a cloud of wanton need that I couldn’t think of the consequences and he moved his hand from my face, his fingers graced the front of my body and my breath hitched as he barely touched the lining of my panties when a voice from one of the styling noonas echoed through the corridor. “Are you guys ready? We need Hongjoong in make-up soon” I cursed and paused my movements, took a few deep breaths and said as calmly as I could. “Give us five” The steps faltered away again and Hongjoong bit his lower lip, looked at me with longing eyes and said, “Tell me what to do” I swallowed, a bit embarrassed, took his free hand in mine and held it to my throat, my heart skipped a beat when he looked at me with big eyes as if he didn’t understood what I wanted him to do at first. I closed his fingers around my windpipe, his thumb pressed on my main artery and he bit down on his tongue, a gasp escaped his lips. I wrapped one leg over his hip, pushed him close against me and earned a sharp inhale from him as he bucked his hips forward, and my heart flipped when I felt him, hard and twitching against my heat. “Choke me” - Saipan was hot and it felt like the tropical humidity had its aim set to kill me, I was wearing a tank top and shorts and still felt how they immediately stuck to my body the minute we got out of the air-conditioned airport. We’d arrived just that morning for the recording of ‘Wave’ and even though some of the staff took the opportunity to actually enjoy the sun, I couldn’t pause for even a second. I feared that my head would fill up with thoughts I shouldn't think about, things that were so far from work appropriate as they could come and Hongjoong shedding his clothes before I got the chance to escape the hotel room didn’t make things better. He caught me before I opened the door though and his hand felt so warm and inviting around my wrist that my heart skipped a beat. “Let me go, Joong” I said, and refused to look back at him as he closed his arms around my midriff instead, his naked chest pressed onto my back. I sighed deeply, repressed the need to lean back against him and inhaled sharply as he placed a butterfly soft kiss on my naked shoulder. “Stay, just for a minute before you have to go back to work” He begged, his hot breath ghosted against the nape of my neck and I shuddered as the feeling made my skin prickle. My heart ached at the emotion behind his voice and I sighed again and surrendered to my need for him, my arm fell back to my side as he gently spun me around. I wet my lips and took in the familiar sight of his body. He’d started to work out more these days, him and San spend most evenings in the company gym for an hour or two and I was over the moon when I heard the news, mainly over the fact that the two brothers seemed to finally have found some sort of a middle ground despite their mutual attraction to me. “Have I ever told you how much I can’t stop thinking about you?” He asked, the sincerity in his voice made my stomach turn and he twirled a lock of my hair around his index finger as the other hand rested gently on my hip. I rolled my eyes, like I couldn’t believe what he was saying, but I was swooning on the inside and he knew that just as well as I did, “Have I ever told you how lucky I am” He continued, and placed both hands on my hips now, swaying us softly to the beat of the tropical music playing through the open window from a radio in one of the other rooms outside, “I mean, I could’ve gotten any of the five others that got the job when you did and yet they choose you-” “Because you stepped in to defend me” I protested but Hongjoong only shook his head, “Because your passion to get the work done was greater than being polite and sit still at a boring meeting” I looked away, pouting as a shy feeling washed over me, but I couldn’t help but smile at the words and wanted to blame the weather for the sudden heat wave that rushed over my body. Hongjoong moved his hand to clasp it with mine, the other softly grazed my lower back and he looked down on our hands, intertwined our fingers and I swallowed, “To see you nearly every day, working alongside you, to see the excitement in your eyes when we talk about the things we create… to be your friend… “ He paused, as if he wanted me to add something else to the statement but I kept it unsaid between us, “To hold your hand as we walk through these moments together… that’s why I am so incredibly lucky” Affection radiated from his eyes and I realized right then and there, as church bells on top of the mountain sounded, that I loved him. I’d known for a month or so that I was in love, never really reflected about it much, but this feeling was new, as if the butterflies in my stomach suddenly stopped and a twisting knot had replaced it. My heart didn’t just flutter when I looked at him, it hurt, but it was an agonizing pain that I couldn’t help but embrace. Like it was like my feelings for him, magnified and I almost choked on my breath when I met his brown eyes, so lost in them that I had a hard time to breathe. I remembered back, months ago when I began falling for him, charmed by his charisma, his sweet words and the way he looked at me like I was meant for him, and only him. That it would break him if I’d ever look at someone else than him, and I knew that I couldn’t as well. Too in love with the way he watched me longingly from across the room when the make-up noonas fixed him up for the stage, too attached by the way his body felt against mine when I lifted up the blanket in the dead of the night and he crawled up against my chest, threw his arm around my waist and pressed me so close against his body that I feared for his anxiety filled mind. I loved him so much my heart ached, and it felt like it broke in two and was filled with warmth at the same time. My breath hitched and he placed a hand on my cheek, and I was just about to choke forth a small stop when he smiled, “Yes… I really want to kiss you right now, but I know what you said. I will keep your promise” He leaned in and pressed the kiss that was meant for my lips next to my ear instead and I felt my heart racing, like I’d just ran a marathon.

[redantsunderneath]

Us (2019) *Spoilers*

Us is the best movie I've seen since Mandy.  I shouldn't oversell it, but it's really rich and basically everything I like movies for.  I’m going to at least refer to major plot spoilers (usually without direct description) so stop reading if you want to stay clean.

Horror seems more direct and out of the box able to get at the concerns I like narrative art to deal with.  The genres kind of promote certain thematic preoccupations, and horror is so diencephalonic that it really is able to go psycho-chrono-geographically extreme (more unconscious, more primordial, more in the woods) with less dithering.  This movie is an example of why all my favorite movies loosely categorize horror (even cheap dumb horror movies seem to work a lot better subliminally than those of other genres).  

For people who don’t care about spoilers and want to follow along, the movie unfolds as follows: A black upper middle class family goes to their vacation house where no-one really wants to be - the daughter is in her phone, the son is withdrawn, the mom actively does not want to be there, and the dad is overcompensating.  They go to Santa Cruz beach where the mom, when she was a kid, saw a girl who looked just like her in a hall or mirrors below the carnival/boardwalk, the trauma stemming from which derives much of the movie’s impetus.  On the beach, they meet their friends, a white family who are the image of superficial aspirational American values.  

One night a full set of their doppelgängers show up in the driveway and a battle for survival begins.  This turns out to be broader with, at least regionally, alters (”the tethered”) showing up everywhere and killing their analogous surface people. The white family falls immediately, sand our guys have to face their alters too.  The family eventually triumphs, but not before the mom descends into the tunnels under the hall of mirrors and faces her alter who reveals a too literal plot and wins.  The family drives away and it is revealed that the mom was (THE SPOILER) the alter all along and what happens is the result of the “real surface mom” jealously yearning for participation in that kind of stuff we do that gives life meaning, including odd self delusions and empty displays... so, like culture in general.

What the movie is really about is how we have within us a shadow of our primal selves, an ancestral image of progenitors who were concerned with drives and survival, and we suppress this so that society can function and we can be free from the knowledge of existential risk. The "absent center" (a la Derrida) of the movie is the culture war in which we are prone to let this shadow (and its instinctual out-group hatred and violence) take more control. We have a complex relationship this repression that involves guilt (we have it better than they did, civilization is theft and genocide, how can I forget this) and tightly bound attraction/fear of giving into the deeper drives - we know it is valuable but we don't want to edge in too far.  

So civilization is an internal tension filled detente that is kind of a lie we tell ourselves, and that situation is slipping a little bit. Presented as the main perturbation is trauma - being forced to see the real of which this shadow is a part, whether the trauma is abuse, encountering too harsh truths as a child, day to day existence in western civilization, self inflicted trauma to confirm to norms, the loss of a way of life, epigenetic shock from slavery, or whatever else.  Being a “realist”, and societal “red pilling,” is depicted as extremely destabilizing and dangerous because the truths discovered when outed may annihilate everything we have been striving for (if that’s worth saving at all). 

Note, this is within the context of not absolute truth but competing ambiguities, or at least an ambivalent set of incommensurable ideas that are all true but are immanently inconsistent. Or, alternately phrased, culture has rejected confronting certain truths for so long that we should be afraid of how a bunch of people who are not nuanced and are not prepared for the knowledge will react, but we really need to understand the real to grapple with the inevitable dissonance (competing ideas of the good) when figuring out a way forward. This movie is not pedantic and is well aware this struggle should not be ignored but the pain of confronting the truth is that it threatens the good in a way that is fucking tough to resolve.

The semiotics of this movie must have taken forever to put together.  There is symbolism everywhere and most symbols have multiple meanings.The main reference points are the 1111, rabbits, and the direct references to other media, but it is drenched in nods to the Americana, slavery, status markers, black cultural touchstones, etc..  

The 1111 recurrence has many reflections, some harder to notice.  11:11 is in the ether as the “time that big shit goes down,” has numerological connections to the divine descending to earth, and has a direct function of representing the individuation/alienation of the family and the way things are “twinned.”  One good example of the way this ties together is, as they walk across the beach, their 4 shadows make the Black Flag symbol (there is recurrence of Black Flag T-shirts to remind us) which is a stylized single (1) flag, furled as to show a staggered arrangement of the 4 band members as individuals - unity in individuality, which the movie questions (also to play into themes of suburban rebellion and “authenticity”). The 1111/11:11 works a lot of ways: to suggest an eschaton of individuality, that there is a moment of great potential and danger, as judgement/revelation foreshadowing (via Jeremiah 11:11 "Therefore thus saith the Lord, Behold, I will bring evil upon them, which they shall not be able to escape; and though they shall cry unto me, I will not hearken unto them."), the twinnings at different levels (we see the Black Flag t most clearly in the chest of one of a set of twins who have their own "twins" 11:11 - the other twin just has on a halter to maximally show off her "twins").

The rabbits are a psychological critique of the id in modernity (this movie is interesting about sex in its color-around-the-picture absence).  In deep psychological tunnels, they are caged and consumed subconsciously, red and bloody, as the current order/superego’s sacrifice to keep things quiet, and set free by the lysis in libidinal excess.  They also abut the slavery imagery as they are caged, utilized instrumentally, and are present not just in tunnels but in something that codes as an underground railroad.  But mostly I think Peele must be a David Lynch fan as Inland Empire informs this use. 

The Twin Peaks references were unexpected.  The first sequence is a descent from the carnival of fake activities that simulate real experience to the “deep place,” past the dweller on the threshold who gives us warning, into the woods with an owl (which isn’t what it seems), and into a veil of curtains through which are the deeper psychological truths where we interrogate inability to cope with trauma as a kind of existential problem - the whole situation as a manifestation of the sickness of the structures that give life meaning.  Also, the protagonist is trapped for a similar length of time, has a doppelgänger that is in a way the real protagonist revealed, and needs to face this part of themselves.

So, we’ll try to hit most of the wide ranging pop-culture references, but things really intertwine. Example: the red smocks evoke several things: 1. Michael Jackson, with glove, specifically Thriller (as on the tee), intentionally picking up on the gaslighting, the trauma, the ties to his own hidden nature, and the fraught nature of cultural affiliation (specifically black - Peele is the one doing the questioning) that perpetrates a cycle of behavior (we’ll get to code switching); 2. Chain gangs/prison uniforms - there are shackles in the movie and "tethered" is the word for the link between people and their alters - which, in the imagination, is just an echo of slavery;  and 3. Michael Myers... the white mask of one of the characters delineates this, but it reminds one of the other as an encounter with the real.  The glove looking like a low res infinity gauntlet will be left as an exercise for the reader.

The Jaws T-shirt fits with the water/boats stuff, evoking the polysemous subliminal other as a threat to out prosperity and illusions about ourselves. Just as in Jaws, the other is a really wide concept and can lend to a lot of different readings focusing on whatever you want to about the modern western world and what we fear/suppress.  All the MJ symbols and the mention of OJ alludes to the fraught identity of being trapped between worlds.  Black Flag and NWA recalls the shakiness of authenticity from opposite sides.  The consistent riffing on The Shinning evokes the sickness in the culture, the family, and the individual as inseparable and leveraged against our forgetting what has happened and who were were before. Hands Across America’s repeated direct referencing instantiates the desire for and society's readiness to provide the lie agreed upon, ambivalence about which is at the heart of the film.  Lost Boys is name checked by location and timing - literally they its filming is there in the flashback part - but also the spectacle hiding our savage natures which we are drawn to but need to control.  The home invasion scene is very A Clockwork Orange, with the eruption of violent life into the modern domestic space set to pointedly inappropriate music. There are tons of less specific movie references each evoking multiple films with similar shadowing - masks, scissors as weapon, the hall of mirrors, carnival as place of trial and trauma, underground as a place to resolve answers, incongruous music and violence,  etc. There is a shot with shelves of VHS tapes all of which have obvious resonances (CHUD, Goonies, the Man with Two Brains, Nightmare on Elm Street) except the Right Stuff which is pointedly there, perhaps as a reminder that man can and will transcend.

Tim Heidecker plays just the kind of character who you'd expect - a clueless smarm who goofily performs the rituals of commodified masculinity while not really seeming masculine at all. His transparency is why he was cast. He is part of a whole family critique of the superficiality of the American dream and how there is rot underneath.  Much of this critique is undercooked and a weak spot of the film as the family’s alters, besides Elizabeth Moss’s narcissism prompted ritual self mutilation, aren’t that worked in. Yeah, the father mimes dad stances, and the kids are interchangeable just like suburban identities (right, commuters?), but that’s it.  There is a lot of deeply implicit racism and distrust of the outsider in the families’ interactions that is much more subtle than “I would have voted for Obama for a third term.” How about “I knew you’d forget the flare gun” (but not the rope or life preservers) which has a lot running through it - ironic racial assumptions, a from the right critique of a political stance valuing safety and security over defense and accepting help, the "making fire” motif involved in beating back the shadow, and the plastic “real man” attitude.

The primary family is black and affluent, and have a connection to black culture that is depicted as at once not entirely real, aspirational, and a kind of cosmic separation.  But (mostly) the really deep connection to these things is "forgotten." Dad’s efforts to code switch when he has to summon something other than performative consumerism comes off as pathetic in the face of the power of the history of survival.  As dad listens and performs involvement of “heritage,” the son asks what “I Got 5 On It” means - dad deflects and the daughter answers “drugs.”  The correct answer is having a stake in the ($) dream whatever rules you have to break to get there.  This rubs (intentionally) uncomfortably against the Michael Jackson and OJ references (and the trapped in the closet pseudo reference) as cultural aspiration is about having to either forget a history of bad things (what the actual text of the things are speaking to) or leave behind the products of that thing (at which point where is your connection to your cultural past).  

The Fuck the Police joke works a bunch of different ways: 1. It’s a pun; 2. it’s an Alexa/Siri not working joke; 3. it brings the specter of technology contributing to faulty society into the space (as does the daughter’s phone); 4. it ironically contrasts with Good Vibrations; 5. it ironically contrasts with the action, the incarcerated kicking the shit out of suburbanites as class revenge; 6. the actual police literally still haven’t shown up after the 911 (is a joke) calls; 7. it expresses our ambivalence to societal strictures; 8. it is at odds with the environment, suggesting the absurdity of the middle class aping authenticity; 9. Ice Cube now makes a lot of fish out of water comedies of hood-coded man trying to fake middle class; 10. I could go on.

The weapons used by the heroes are all affluent symbols, often a costly reclaiming/supplanting/mastering of the primitive with the stuff of the modern - an expensive aluminum bat, a golf club, an outboard motor, and a geode mounted on a stand. The 3 family members win against both their shadows and that of their white counterparts by unifying his modern advances with the primitive impulses. The dad wins by understanding how machinery works and by mastering fire.  The daughter wins because cars > running. The son is really something because he is all about play and tricks and can't make fire, but is really about empathy (or maybe mirror neurons). His alter plays with fire, has burned himself badly, and is scared by technological magic.  So our son makes a spark, and learns to play with the other and thus control him to walk backwards into the alter's own fire.  He learns this trapped in a closet (the second R Kelly sub rosa reference this weekend after Shazam saying "I believe I can fly" before a messy edit) surrounded by board games including Monster Trap and Guess Who?

The twist really opens up what the movie is saying and is perfect Twilight Zone type "both chewy plot gotcha and thematic epiphany.” The twist basically says that the jolt of becoming aware of the real is traumatic and, if it is bad enough and you are susceptible, the state of wokenness requires you to fake it in order to fit into the life you desire but are alienated from, while the part of you that loves life (giving over to a spirit, art, believing in something "true" rather than factual) stays buried ready to erupt with negative effects.  This is a unique take on the subjectivity of trauma, that the bad unacceptable thing that is not supposed to happen that happened to you makes you feel like you are characterized primarily by that bad thing pretending to be the transcendent nature you repressed.  And yet, the movie ends with the Shining helicopter landscape shots of the car driving away, to Hands Across America being re-enacted, our primitive selves being inspired to attempt to recreate the lie of society as a life affirming spectacle.  This rhymes with the mom continuing to play mom as the performance is the reality, is who she really is.

I have left a lot on the table... the boat (that always pulls left) stuff as class critique, the voices the alters have, what each families’ possessions say (especially the wall art and architecture of the houses), the movements of the alters, the coding of the water settings, the idea of the “Carnival” of souls over abandoned tunnels and superficial (cheap and temporary) vs. deep (forgotten) culture, the scissors as a compound metaphor, the mirroring, 100 other media nods (e.g. Home Alone), the general quality of the music cues, the overdetermining alter names from the IMDB page, the Howard and thỏ shirts, the drunk dad, the excessive hinting at common types abuse (using film and real language) but not letting us have that as an organizing reality (as Nightmare on Elm Street does), and other stuff I’m not dredging up.

The movie is not prefect - 1. it commits the cardinal sin of 11th hour exposition to set the literal plot in concrete, which I didn't need and waters down the themes; 2. the white family (other than mom) deserves more specific behavior from their alters, and 3. there is only one real standout acting performance (Lupita Nyong'o, who I didn't "get" until this). But man, this is 1000 x better than Get Out - it's broader and more primal in its concerns with race falling out as just one critique among many.  

[kpoptimeout]

My Top 10 K-Dramas of 2018 - What’s Yours?

2018 is ending soon and K-Dramaland has once again brought us so many goodies this year. As per our blog’s tradition [For 2017 faves click here], below are my Top 10 favs of the year (my faves in alphabetical order so it might not be yours so please don’t judge)

My only specific criteria this year is that the show must have had started in 2018 to be considered a 2018 series (Hence, Hwayugi and I’m Not A Robot were in last year’s list and honourable mentions)

Lawless Lawyer (tvN)

Every year we have a few stellar Korean legal dramas and Lawless Lawyer is one of them. Starring veterans Lee Joongi and Son Yeji, the drama details a gangster turned lawyer who used unorthodox techniques to win cases and a lawyer-childhood friend-love interest who got into trouble for attacking a judge. After his return from the military, Lee Joongi has acted in many internationally well-received dramas but “Lawless Lawyer” is the first since his return to gain massive commercial success within South Korea and becoming one of the highest viewed dramas on Korean cable channel history. Son Yeji was also able to show her acting chops and shed her pretty girl image through this drama. It is understandable why this drama did well - it was action-packed, had a well-plotted storyline and also the right laughs at the right moments. If you love an amazing legal drama, go watch Lawless Lawyer already!

Memories Of The Alhambra (tvN/Netflix)

You know it’s nearing the year’s end when tvN drops another high budget and experimental drama with a star-studded cast to steal you and the critics’ hearts. This year it is Memories Of The Alhambra, which is an ambitious project jointly produced by tvN and Netflix. Following the success of jointly produced Mr. Sunshine which also made the list, the two studios teamed up for an even crazier project - instead of the guaranteed tear-jerking historical drama they went for a sci-fi/fantasy thriller exploring virtual and augmented reality and business in the digital age. You know they are taking this project seriously when they got the writer for “W” (the Lee Jongsuk and Han Hyojoo hit about the collapse of a comic book world into reality) Song Jaejung to write this screenplay. The show with top cast featuring Hallyu stars and veterans Hyun Bin, Park Shin Hye, and EXO’s Chanyeol with exhilarating graphics and filming in Grenada has been topping online and domestic Korean viewership since its broadcast on December 1st. If you enjoy creative sci-fi adventures with Asian leads, this is the drama for you!

Mr. Sunshine (tvN/Netflix)

One of the first tvN and Netflix collaborations, Mr. Sunshine was an unsurprising hit starring world-famous Korean actor Lee Byung Hoon and South Korea’s favourite young actress Kim Taeri. Other main cast include skilled and popular actors like Yoo Yeonseok, Byung Yohan and Kim Minjung. Throw in the historical Joseon setting and the imminent colonisation by foreign powers, you have a recipe for an awards-sweeper and crowd-pleaser! Besides a plot that easily draws in audiences, the set designs, colour grading, music, and costumes are all phenomenal and is a feast for the senses. My only knit-picking critique is it seems unrealistic that a Korean man can rise to as high a rank as Lee Byung Hoon’s Eugene Choi character in the racist 1800s United States no matter how brilliant Eugene Choi was. But besides that, if you love a historical epic with romance and war, this is the drama you would enjoy!

Ms. Hammurabi (JTBC)

This drama sees Go Ara and Song Dong Il reuniting in their father-daughter/mentor-mentee like dynamic following hit dramas Reply 1994 and Hwarang, with Go Ara being an idealistic former music student who dropped out and self-studied to become a judge, and Song Dong Il being the old geezer and life mentor who only managed to become a judge later in life. They are joined by INFINITE’s L being a by the books judge who likes Go Ara’s wholesome character. The drama is exceptionally touching, not only for its realistic depiction of life as judges in civilian law countries but also as a reflection of people chasing their dreams in different stages of their life. The drama also expertly deals with real-world issues like gender discrimination in the workplace, prejudice to marginalised groups and the issues that come with an inflexible hierarchical structure in South Korea. While there is romance between the leads, this is shown subtly and naturally, without it becoming a distraction to the engaging storyline. If you enjoy a thoughtful drama about society with great acting, this is a drama you would enjoy.

My ID is Gangnam Beauty (JTBC)

Maybe I am slightly biased because I loved the webtoon but I think My ID is Gangnam Beauty is one of the best Korean rom-coms of the year. First I thought the casting was spot-on - ASTRO’s Cha Eunwoo perfectly encapsulated the cold and awkward Do Kyungseok and Im Soohyang was able to display the insecurities of Kang Mirae even after plastic surgery well. The drama does a good job of touching on Korean society’s toxic beauty visual standards - it still makes the female lead insecure even after she gets plastic surgery and she gets ridiculed before and after plastic surgery. Meanwhile second female lead Hyun Soo Ah, played by Jo Woori, also struggles as a natural beauty due to fears of people no longer liking her should she ever fall below their expectations in any way. This is a thoughtful drama that does not just demonise characters for the sake of drama but gives us lots of food for thought about why people act the way they do regarding appearances. If you like a drama that is fun and cute but also has a good message, you should check out this drama!

My Mister (tvN)

There are dramas where you skip some scenes because you want to get to the main point. There are some dramas where you want every second of it. My Mister was one of those dramas you watch every second of. It was that good. While many Kdramas still having idealistic female leads who slowly get jaded and turn badass only near the end/are always protected by men and never turn badass, My Mister finally does the move of making the female poor but super resourceful, brilliant and cynical, and already super jaded to begin with. Played by top singer and actress IU, the female lead Lee Jian reverses the usual female lead tropes by slowly learning to see some good in the world and learn to dream following a life of extreme poverty and hardship. The other highlight of the drama is the male lead played by talented actor Lee Sunkyun, whose relationship with his brothers and mother, as well as his crumbling marriage with his wife provide a lot of food for thought on the meaning of family and life. By acting as a mentor of IU’s character while also being saved by IU from lots of drama unknowingly, we see two broken souls learn from each other to be better people. The drama also showcased how romance is not the only meaningful love that exists between communities. If you love an insightful slice-of-life drama with realistic intrigues, betrayals, and character development, you would love My Mister.

Radio Romance (KBS2)

Honestly at this point HIGHLIGHT’s Dojoon is just nation’s drama boyfriend and he continues to pick the good scripts as we can see in Radio Romance. The drama is simple - the assistant writer played by Kim Sohyun’s radio show might get cancelled and she manages to somehow get the top radio star played by Dojoon to host her show. Shenanigans happen and romance blossoms. It is stereotypical but done well, with the right amount of twists and just knowing when it should bounce back from the laughs and side stories. If dramas are all dishes, Radio Romance is like that cheesecake that tastes sweet and light, not so filling that it will you sick. It is the dessert you would always go for to feel good. If you like to watch something that makes you feel warm inside, this is the drama for you!

Something in the Rain (JTBC)

I am usually not super into “the younger dongsaeng has a romance with noona who he knows growing up all of a sudden” stories but there was something special about Something in the Rain. When I first began watching this drama, it did not feel like watching a regular Kdrama at all and more like an indie film from the West. There is a feeling of emptiness at the beginning, possibly to signify the resident noona and veteran actress Son Yejin’s unsuccessful love life. There was a lot of dialogue and cuts and it felt like watching a documentary about the lives of the characters. But it was this formatting of Something in the Rain that makes it feel so genuine. The pace of the leads building up their romance was steady and natural. Hence, it made issues they faced feel all the more real too. If you enjoy a realistic slice-of-life portrayal of romance, you would love this drama!

The Guest (OCN)

When I saw the trailer I already knew this was some scary shit. Following its many successful thrillers last year, OCN decided to dive in the more horror side of a thriller in The Guest. To fit this aesthetic, the drama was broadcasted only at 11pm instead of primetime but still had massive success and rightly so. The acting by the three leads Kim Dong Wook (man who can see ghosts and the future), Kim Jaewook (the cold, exorcist priest), and Jung Eunchae (a detective who does not believe in the supernatural) is phenomenal, making their team up to catch criminal possessed by ghosts all the more exhilarating. The actors who play the possessed are also amazing, making for most of the scares in this drama. If you enjoy a mystery and the horror genre, this is the Kdrama for you!

What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? (tvN)

Being the most searched Kdrama on Google in South Korea this year, it would not make sense for What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? not to make this list. The drama revolves around the successful but extremely narcissistic company vice chairman played by Park Seojoon and his capable no-nonsense secretary played by Park Minyoung, with the latter quitting after paying off family debts and not being in the mood to work for her annoying boss anymore. The whole process where Park Seojoon tries to retain his secretary of course blossoms into romance etc. etc. One of the reasons this drama did so well was that not only did it have a strong and capable female lead but Park Seojoon defied expectations in his role. As another Kdrama based on a webtoon, original webtoon readers felt like he was not similar to the male lead and were not sure how he would handle the role. But Park Seojoon did a fantastic job, to the point I wanted to bang my head on the table or slap his character whenever he did narcissistic shit. If you want a high-quality rom-com with some unorthodox twists, this is the drama to watch!

Honourable Mentions:

100 Days My Prince (tvN): The fourth highest-rated Korean drama in cable television history starring EXO’s D.O and Nam Jihyun, the drama details the marriage between a noblewoman on the run and a crown prince who lost his memory during a failed assassination attempt.

Are You Human? (KBS2): With the actual development of AI in recent years, more Kdramas have embraced the topic of robot-human romances. Seo Kang Joon and Gong Seungyeon star in this story involving a bodyguard and the AI of a chaebol masquerading as the real chaebol who is in a coma.

Still 17 (SBS): A drama involving a 30-year-old man who doesn’t want to grow up due to trauma (Yang Sejong) and a woman who wakes up after a 13-year coma so acts like a 17-year-old even though she is 30 (Shin Hyesun).

Welcome to Waikiki (JTBC): A comedy-drama starring rising actors Kim Junghyun, Lee Yikyung, and Son Seungwon who run a failing guesthouse called Waikiki. Oh, and there’s a single mother and a baby in this crazy mix!

What’s your Top 10 K-Dramas of the Year? Leave your thoughts in the comments section below and may the drama sharing begin (and the road to more excuse for holiday procrastination!)

Also, if you want to check out underrated K-Pop songs of 2018, here are the lists for idol songs, artist songs, and OSTs!

[imagine-always-and-forever]

Flutterings & Tequila -- Part 3

A Klaus Imagine

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries and The Originals

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: you've decided to go clubbing with your best friend the last summer before college starts to take your mind off of the Mikaelsons who have invaded your life this summer. Specifically, you're trying to distract yourself from Niklaus Mikaelson and the flutterings he has caused you. Tequlia is your friend tonight.

Warnings: language, underage drinking, drunk jerks, typical canon violence

Word count: 2,355

Authors note: thank you so much for all the notes and the feedback! I really appreciate it!! Please let me know if you're enjoying this! I apologize for any mistakes as my internet on my laptop is down so I'm having to do this all on my phone!

Part 1  |   Part 2

Fic:

You sucked in a breath. Watching as Klaus looked the drunken idiot in the eyes, you waited for his words to sink into the idiot’s alcohol addled brain. When recognition lit in the unfocused gaze, the guy tried pulling away. Klaus didn’t budge.

“Fuck you,” he slurred and you sucked in another breath. You looked to Klaus, wondering if you were going to end up on the morning news when they discovered the idiot’s dead body and somehow linked him to you. Klaus only looked amused. The idiot guy looked at you, “and fuck you too. You’re an ugly bitch anyway,” he spat, covering his bruised ego.

Charming.

Klaus smiled. Oh no. “That’s not very nice,” he said, and you didn’t think the calm, almost sing-song way he said it boded well for the drunk guy still in his grip.

“Niklaus,” Elijah’s voice came in a chiding tone and you looked up to see Elijah now standing behind his brother. He was impeccably dressed, as per usual. You weren’t sure how he was wearing a designer and perfectly tailored suit in this heat at this club, but then again you also weren’t sure if he actually owned anything other than suits.

Klaus looked back at his brother innocently. “I’m being a good guest,” Klaus defended himself.

“There’s no reason to cause a scene,” Elijah countered, casually looking around to make sure everyone was still too caught up in their own night to notice what was going on in the middle of the club. Satisfied, his eyes went to the drunk kid, landing on the unnatural way his arm was twisted in his brother’s grasp. He sighed. “You’ve already broken his arm, surely that’s enough for a warning?”

The guy must have been really drunk because it took hearing Elijah for him to register the pain. Before Klaus could answer, the drunk idiot let out a loud yell. Klaus’s hand covered his mouth before it could draw attention. He glared at the guy.

Elijah stepped up. He grabbed the drunk’s face and looked him in the eyes. “You’re going to leave this place and go to a hospital. You won’t come back here and in the future when a woman says no, you’ll listen,” he compelled him. The kid stared, enraptured. He nodded his head. “Oh,” Elijah said, still as calm as ever, “and don’t scream.”

Klaus removed his hand and let the guy go. You waited, holding your breath, as you watched him blink. Before he moved, he looked at Klaus.

“You broke my arm,” he muttered.

Klaus smiled in reply. He let his eyes change. They glowed bright gold in the darkness of the club, and in the flashes of light, you could see the veins protruding under his eyes. He curled back one lip for just the tiniest peak of his fangs.

The drunk idiot stumbled backwards in fear, falling on the dirty club floor with his eyes wide in horror.

Elijah sighed as he looked at the ceiling, clearly over this detour in their night’s plans. He seemed to sigh a lot with Klaus. He walked over to the drunk and grabbed hold of him. He picked him up and looked him in the eyes again. “You’ll forget about tonight and about us. Now go.” As the kid all but ran for the door, Elijah walked back to join you and Klaus. “Was that really necessary, Niklaus?” he asked his little brother.

Klaus, barely holding back a grin, shrugged. Innocent as ever.

The Mikaelsons turned to look at you.

“Thanks,” you smiled widely.

Klaus smiled back at you, sending a look to his brother as if your reaction justified the breaking of limbs. His eyes landed on yours again, amusement dancing in them as he noticed your wild hair and alcohol flushed cheeks. Flutterings. There were flutterings again. You avoided his gaze and looked at Elijah. You definitely needed more to drink. Or less. You weren’t sure.

“We didn’t expect to see you here,” Elijah said, eyes narrowing on you.

You focused on him, thinking about what to say. Elijah waited patiently for a response, almost as amused as his brother at seeing you like this. You wanted to explain that if they had bothered to get to know you even the slightest bit that they wouldn’t have this false image of you in their heads. Sure, you weren’t entirely sure what that image was but you could pretty much guarantee that the description of you involved words like “innocent,” “meek,” “good girl,” and “boring.” Of all those things, the last one was the most aggravating. But, unfortunately, you were far too drunk to string together a coherent explanation of your life story. Also, if it took until they had undeniable proof that you just might be worth a mere moment of their time, then they could fuck right off because you weren’t here for their amusement.

Flutterings be damned. They didn’t deserve an explanation even if you weren’t drunk. It’s too bad your mouth and your brain weren’t on the same page.

“Yeah, I usually don’t do this but they were looking the other way with IDs tonight so…” you babbled before trailing off. You suddenly remembered losing your best friend in the crowd and started wondering where she had gotten to.

Klaus smirked at you.

“How old are you?” Elijah asked.

“I’ll be nineteen in a just under a month,” you replied without looking at them. You couldn’t see anything but drunk people dancing. No sign of her.

“Well, I for one have never understood the drinking age,” Klaus said. Elijah glanced at his brother. Distracted once again, you turned to look at him. Klaus hadn’t moved his eyes off you, and you had the feeling that he was five steps ahead of you on a game you didn’t know you were playing. “Perhaps you’d care to join us at our table?” he asked, gesturing up to the balcony above.

“Yeah, sure,” you chirped happily, the alcohol still running through your system. With your mind still offline, you couldn’t find a single reason to say no. It sounded fun! Besides, despite not knowing them much personally, you found that you’d developed a bit of a soft spot for the Mikaelsons. You beamed at Klaus. He was your favorite. These flutterings weren’t so bad anyway. They made you feel all warm. Or maybe that was the alcohol.

“Follow me,” Klaus grinned like the Cheshire cat.

You went to follow but at the sound of some girl’s loud yell of excitement, you remembered your best friend. You stopped and gasped, your hand going to your mouth dramatically. Klaus and Elijah looked at you expectantly. “I need to find my friend!” you announced and turned to wander off to look for her.

Klaus’s hand on your arms stopped you and you frowned as you looked down at it. You half expected it to be covered in paint.

“The girl you were dancing with earlier?” Elijah asked as you kept staring at Klaus’s hand.

You nodded. Klaus’s hands weren’t as rough as you thought they’d be. You’d think with all the murdering and paintbrush holding that he’d have developed more callouses. Maybe it was a vampire thing. Or a wolf thing. Or a hybrid thing. They were very soft. Did he moisturize? Huh. That was probably it. Never underestimate a good moisturizer. Immortality and eternal youth only went so far.

“I’ll find her,” Elijah said, pulling you from your musings.

You looked up to see Klaus smirking at you before you turned your attention to Elijah. “Thanks,” you smiled at him. Elijah was so nice. “You’re the best!” you declared, beaming once more.

Looking back at Klaus, you found him with an odd expression on his face, an arm extended to you. You looked down at his offered arm. Hey, look at that! Chivalry wasn’t dead. It was just a hybrid. You giggled at your own joke as you took his arm. With a dizzying tug and rush of a breeze, you found yourself standing in front of a table with four seats, three empty and one of them with Rebekah in it.

“Did you have to break his arm?” she asked her brother with a roll of her eyes.

Klaus shrugged, a little smile on his face.

“Hi,” you smiled happily at Rebekah. You never got to hang out with Rebekah. Come to think of it, you’ve never hung over with any of them. Unless you counted the very rare teas you had with Elijah. Which you didn’t because he mostly sat reading a very old and dusty book while sipping perfectly from a teacup as you drank your own. Maybe this would start a new tradition.

Rebekah cocked a perfectly plucked eyebrow at you.

“Play nice,” Klaus chastised his baby sister.

“Am I the only one who has questions?” she asked. “All she’s done for the past three months is work in a bookshop, stay in her room, and wear basic outfits. Now she’s in a club like this, underage, and dressed like that,” she said, gesturing to your outfit.

You knew they thought you were boring! Wait. Did she just compliment your outfit? You looked down at what you were wearing and hoped you’d remember this tomorrow so you could thank your best friend for talking you into wearing this tonight. You smiled up at Rebekah.

“Do you like it?” you asked.

“I think you look ravishing, love,” Klaus smirked into your ear. You beamed. Nobody has ever called you ravishing before!

Rebekah narrowed her eyes at her brother, but you didn’t notice. There was a bottle of very expensive looking stuff on the table. You reached for it just as you felt a breeze hit you from behind.

“Y/N!!” your best friend exclaimed as if she hadn’t seen you in ten years.

You turned around just in time to catch her as she threw her arms around you in a bear hug. She was probably too drunk to notice how fast she’d gotten to you.

“I found her at the bar,” Elijah said.

“I was waiting for you!” she announced. “I took another shot. But I ordered two and you didn’t come so I took that as well. Then I drank something while I waited for you. Then this Disney prince guy came up to me and tried telling me to go home! Like he could just order me about!” she said in shock at Elijah’s attitude. “Can you believe it? I’m a strong independent woman!” she proclaimed.

You laughed at Elijah being called a Disney prince. That should be his new nickname!

“It seems I wasn’t compelling enough,” Elijah said. Oh. Right. You’d dosed her right up with vervain. Just because you refused it and left yourself vulnerable didn’t mean you’d let her be vulnerable to compulsion!

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly.

“Are these your friends?” your best friend asked.

You burst into a wide smile. She knew you had people staying with you but details were kept to a minimum. At the thought of being able to call the vampires surrounding you your friends, you felt a rush of excitement and pride.

“These are the Mikaelsons!” you introduced. Why hadn’t you introduced them before? They’d get along great! Rebekah and your best friend had a lot in common because they both really liked fashion, or shopping at the least. You walked over to Rebekah, “This is Rebekah! She’s their little sister. She’s really pretty as you can see and I think you two have the same shell top. You know the one you got last week?”

Your friend nodded, smiling widely at Rebekah. See? You knew they’d get along.

The Mikaelsons looked at you with amusement.

“Your Disney prince over here,” you said going over to Elijah, “is Elijah. He’s the oldest. He only wears suits and likes reading big old books.”

Klaus snorted and Elijah sent him a warning look.

“And this,” you beamed and looked at Klaus, focusing all your attention on him. He looked very handsome in this outfit. You supposed he was usually dressed like this, but he looked very good in it so it really wasn’t a wonder why he stuck to his style. What was that saying? If you’ve got it, flaunt it? Wait. Was that the one? “This is Nik!” you announced.

Elijah, Rebekah, and Klaus seemed to all share a look.

“What?” you asked. Klaus shrugged, his eyebrows raised and looking fine with it, if not a bit amused. You looked at Elijah and Rebekah. “What?” you asked again.

“Most people call our brother Klaus,” one of them answered but you were too busy to notice who as you watched your best friend slink into one of the seats opposite Rebekah.

“That’s his name though!” you replied as your best friend reached for the same bottle you’d had your eyes on before.

“Wait is his name Klaus or Nik?” she asked before trying to take a large swig only to frown when she found the bottle empty.

You looked at Klaus, a small frown of concentration on your face. If his full name was Niklaus and he went by Klaus and Nik, which was the right one? Most people said Klaus, but then again you heard Rebekah and Kol call him Nik. Also, you called him both depending if it was in thought or to his face. “Both.”

“You can’t have two names!”

“It’s Niklaus! Nik and Klaus!”

“Nik-Klaus?”

“No one word.”

“Niklaus. My brother’s name is Niklaus,” Rebekah said as Klaus continued to watch in amusement.

“Oh,” your best friend replied. “So what should I call him?”

“Klaus,” you stated, very sure of yourself. She shouldn’t call him Nik. It was weird.

“Why did you call him Nik?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know! It just popped out!” You were drunk. These things happened. Filters stopped working. You hadn’t been told to stop so it couldn’t be that big a deal.

“Can I call him Nik?” she asked you.

“No,” you replied in unison with Klaus.

“Oh. We need drinks!” your best friend announced suddenly. What an excellent idea.

“I think we were just heading out, actually,” Elijah said.

“Nonsense, brother,” Klaus smiled, sitting down in his chair and leaning back. His leg crossed casually as he watched your best friend start chanting for drinks. “The nights still young,” he grinned.

“TEQUILA!” your best friend shouted.

“Brother, be a dear,” Klaus said, looking to Elijah. Elijah thought for a moment but turned to head to the bar.

“DON’T FORGET THE LIME AND SALT,” you yelled after him.

He was back before you could wonder if he’d spill the shots speeding back. In his hand was a bottle of tequila, a salt shaker, and an entire jar of sliced limes.

“WAIT,” you said, your eyes wide open as he placed the things down on the table. “We have to do this properly.”

“And how do we do that,” Klaus asked.

You weren’t sure if he really didn’t know or was humoring you. Either way, you always jumped at the chance to impart your shot taking wisdom on someone. Even if they were over a thousand years old and a supposed big bad hybrid.

“Watch,” you instructed. You poured out a shot and licked the back of your hand. You carefully added the salt to it. “The right amount is key,” you informed them. You picked up the shot, showing them that it was in one hand and then a slice of lime, showing them it was in the other. You waited until they all looked at you. Klaus was smirking. You liked his smirk. It made those flutterings come back. Why were those concerning before?

You nodded to them and proceeded to do the shot. Lick, drink, lime.

“Tada!” you beamed as you put the shot back on the table.

Klaus clapped slowly.

“Now your turn,” you announced and poured them a shot each.

They took the shot without fail. It may have been due to practice, but you were pretty sure your excellent demonstration was the real reason they did it so well.

“Shall we do another?” Klaus suggested.

“I don’t-“

You cut Elijah off with a squeal. “I have an idea!”

All eyes were on you. Well, Klaus’s eyes were on you. But that’s all that really mattered.

“Body shots!” you exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement.

[bestwishes86]

Open Container - A Wolf Creek Short Story

“I got a good feeling. It doesn’t happen. Very Often.” Phoebe Bridgers

When David got the call he was just sitting down in his living room with “Game of Thrones” on his 42 inch flat screen. The fresh bowl of Pop Secret and a Heineken sat on the polished coffee table. Hadley was at the Tailgating party for the Puritans and he was on call with the station. He had spent the morning cleaning the upscale brownstone once back from Seattle to clear his head. The drive with that gay asshole had fucked with him more than he wanted to think about. So he had busied himself, not thinking about him walking out of the missing woman’s shower naked. He could still see the words in other languages and black swirls running across that pale skin. As he had polished every surface he could still see the tattoos had covered even the plump flaccid cock between those thick legs.

His bookshelves were filled with paperback novels from the eighties and nineties and every Disney movie with the large white boxes and the faded art and a selection of dvds. The books and movies had belonged to his parents and he couldn’t bring himself to throw any of it away. His wife Penelo had done the decorating and so three oil paintings of landscapes in polished wood frames hung on the walls on either side of the flat screen.

David sat on the soft dark leather couch and was pulling his remote to him when his phone rang. Internally he thought about ignoring it incase it was another call about cow tipping or another horrible trip to Seattle to pick up another gay asshole who smelled like honeysuckle and blood. Seeing the name LInds on the caller id he grabbed it and swiped right to answer it.

“Deputy, do you know a Jon Redding?” the deep voice of the Siren by night hard as nails, raven haired woman asked.

“Yes...why?” David asked slowly, staring at the burning emblem of the show and the paused status bar at the bottom of the screen.

“You should probably cut him off, he’s down here talking about loving someone who didn’t exist and getting thrown into posters and that's not what the boring patrons want to hear, now is it?” Linds asked as she looked at the usually handsome bearded man who looked ready to pass out or throw up sitting alone at a table. The other customers were human ones and she had sung two of her magical songs to distract them from him. David felt a headache building behind his furrowed brows but he still rose from the couch and hung up the call and grabbed his keys.

Jon stared at his empty glass, his mind muddled by the many drinks that had come before as he thought about that alternate version of himself. While he was a short, muscular young man covered in witches spells. That dreamed up version was a chubby, pasty coward. He missed feeling that weak and vulnerable and the way Pete had looked at him. Jon shook his head at the memory of the tall, pale muscular teenager with those green eyes and that square jaw. But it was too late, he remembered the dream Pete had been in and been gutted in. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes

“It wasn’t real, none of it.” Jon shouted to himself and all the bar patrons glared at him as they had every outburst he had made in the last hour. He knew it was stupid, knew it was a waste of emotion but those feeiings he had felt in that mental prison had become a part of him. He had been quiet the entire drive back with that asshole homophobe because he was etching into his memory those three dreams because of Pete. The witch he had planned on eating had trapped him inside her mental prisons had made the imagined world so real he had created real feelings.

“This seat taken,” a gruff pissed off voice asked and Jon waved a hand in acceptance and grimaced at the loud scrapping of the wood against the concrete floor. David plopped down and held a hand up for the waitress. HIs brown eyes looking over Jon, the man had worn a dark blue sweater and jeans with loafers. David thought about his old Smashing Pumpkins t shirt and pajama bottoms and barefeet. He chuckled at this but when the red in the face spikey haired man looked at him, his smile fell away.

“You….” Jon said growling in distrust

“Hey man, Heard you were drinking here so I came by too,” David was cut off by Jon

“You came here dressed like that to drink with me, no offense but unless you’re going to knock me out and take me back to your house for a hard fucking, i’m gonna pass.” Jon said looking David up and down and reaching for his glass having forgotten it was empty. He grimaced at the mere hints of alcohol in it and waved for the waitress while David glared at him.

“Do you have to go straight to sex every time i meet you.” David said between gritted teeth.

“We’ve met twice. Second, what else am I good for? Never mind that last point. You don’t even know me is what I'm trying to say.” Jon slurred in a voice that was something between indignant and a purr. David rolled his eyes at him and Jon slumped back in his chair.

“Why would I want to? I’m just here to make sure you don’t talk about shit you promised you wouldn’t.” David paused as the waitress appeared he ordered two Rum Punches and a Budwiser.

“I didn’t say you could buy a drink for me,” Jon said as he closed his eyes

“I didn't, those are all for me.” David said as he glared at LInds who waved apologetically.

“Ok. Did the bartender alert you to me talking too much,” Jon asked and Davd nodded.

“I just...never mind it’s stupid once you’re drunk we can leave,” Jon said as the two red glasses and the bottle arrived.

“You want anything,” David asked, his expression softened as he smelled the sadness coming off Jon and heard the pain in his voice. Jon reached for one of the rum punches and David smacked his hand.

“Mine,” David said drawing the glass away from the drunkard, he continued, ”I meant something else. I got you for it, I already covered your bill,” David said and Jon thought about it for a moment and asked for a Bud Light. David raised an eyebrow but placed the order the two sat in heavy silence. David occasionally glanced at the drunk man stare at the table and the empty glass, it was clear his mind was somewhere else. David finished his first drink and curled his toes on the cold floor. Jon’s beer arrived and David watched Jon drink half of it one go. He watched the Adam’s apple bob with each swallow before he looked away.

“Have you ever missed someone you shouldn’t,” Jon asked and David sat up uncomfortable as he looked at Jon. The image of the beautifully deformed half woman half wolf chained to walls in an institution flashed in David’s mind.

“Yeah, hurts all the same.” David said solemnly thinking of his wife. His Alpha had told him to kill her, to end her suffering but he couldn’t. So he had driven her to that asylum and chained her up himself. Her human mind was gone, buried inside the feral wolf mind that ruled that malformation.

“It really really fucking does. In that place that woman held me, there was a boy my mind made up. He was...kind to me. The first person in my life to be kind to me ended up being my own imagination...how fucked is that.” Jon said and as he admitted it two large tears began their descent down his cheeks. They were soon chased by more and he quietly wept. He didn’t care if David said something else assholey to him. If the bar patrons kicked him out, none of it mattered as he watched the large stainless steel meat hook burst out of Pete’s broad chest. His mind had drifted back to that nightmarish prison he had been kept in. He and Pete had run from the blank faced woman up the stairs of his home to his bedroom and locked the door behind them. It had happened so suddenly as they had caught their breath. She had burst through the wood, her scream almost deafening as Pete had run at her with his chair as a weapon. She had smacked him away so effortlessly and then glowered at him.

Jon had stood there frozen in horror as the woman took slow strides toward him, she had reached into that dusty overcoat and pulled the metal hook from it and it caught the light of the room and glistened. He had wanted to brave, wanted to try something to save them but he had been so afraid. Pete had run in front of Jon to save him from it in that made up nightmare. Jon could feel the moment when life left Pete’s body. It was if something was pulled from his body, ripped away with that second in life. It didn’t matter if it was real or not, it had felt real to him.

Strong hands were on his shoulders, he felt his body rising up as he was swung up into someone’s arms but he didn’t care. He kept his eyes closed as he was carried out of the bar. The cool night air felt heavenly on his face. He buried his head against the hard flat chest he was pressed against. Jon focused on the heart beating strong beneath the shirt and skin and muscle there. It was real, in that drunken moment it was the only thing real to him.

David had felt his wolf howl in pain watching the quiet crying, he had tried to ignore it. But that open honest act of feeling had struck him in the gut. He had looked around and saw that the once loud raucous bar was silent as everyone watched Jon. That had been what caused him to rise from his seat and carry him out. Carrying the muscular man might have been hard for a normal man but for one with preternatural strength it was like carrying a newborn pup. He ignores the gravel that dug into the skin of his bare feet as he listens to the steady heart beat. Keeping Jon close to him kept his wolf from howling in mourning so he did. Linds was behind him a few steps, she silently watched him, he could feel her eyes on his back as he made his way through the packed parking lot to his truck. The tall, slender, dark haired woman wore a red velvet corset that pushed up her sizable chest and painted on black jeans and boots. Her race’s language was tattooed across her arms in dark blue swaths of color. She opened the door for him and he placed Jon inside.

It wasn’t til he buckled the seatbelt that she spoke. There were only a few reasons Sirens were ever silent and he knew it wouldn’t be good but he listened, his focus on making sure Jon was secure.

“I’ve seen your future, the same as I saw it when your daddy broke your right arm. The man I saw you kissing in your future, he’s that man there. He is exactly as I described it to you 15 years ago. You came here the instant you heard it was him. That means something Davey,” Linds said and David whirled around to face her. His brown eyes burning gold with the power of his wolf burning right beneath his skin.

“Jesus H. Christ Linds!!! I don’t fucking need this shit. This man is the top suspect in a woman’s disappearance. My wife is in a fucking padded cell. Everytime I see her she rips my throat out and I watch her eat it. And you’re here reminding me that 15 years ago my dad took a hammer and shattered my elbow. Spit on me and called me a faggot, all for this sad sack of shit who was in your bar mooning over a made up teenage crush that I am jealous of.” LInds eyebrows shot up the same as his as he realized what he said. He couldn’t take it back. Linds watched the lean werewolf vibrate with shock and anger. She knew she should be afraid but all she wanted to do was the same thing she had done when they had been teenagers. She reached out for him but he took a step back, not trusting the low growling wolf inside his soul.

He had sat in that bar watching those tears and selfishly wished they had been for him, not some made up boy. He felt immature and selfish and wanted to be alone but instead he fished his keys out of his pocket and stormed around to the driver’s side of the truck and got in and without a word drove off as Linds watched him go.