#and probably an apocalypse they all gotta deal with at some point

[ciaossu-imagines]

Oh? What’s this? Another chance to write about a polyship with the Kongo brothers? Don’t mind if I do, hahaha! I adore this polyship so much and, using the same prompt as the previous one, had such a blast writing these headcanons! I hope you all enjoy!

Who is the one who would go up to a random elder in a coffeeshop and ask them about their life?

I feel like Unsui has a real respect for his elders and, in a lot of cases, is actually more at ease talking to people older than him than he is talking to people his own age. And he genuinely likes to hear about older people’s lives and tries to find wisdom and life lessons that he can bring into his own life from their stories.

Who hates checking out books because checking them out means interacting, and that is always awkward?

While definitely more of the introvert, Unsui has no problem with small, routine interactions like this and he checks out books fairly frequently since he likes to read. Agon doesn’t often read so he doesn’t even have a library card. He gets someone to buy him a book if he ever does feel the urge to read something in particular. So that means it is you with this issue, if anyone. And if you do have this issue, Unsui is so supportive of you and helps you deal with it. He has no problem with checking out your books for you, provided you agree to go with him to the library, both to spend time with him and to take baby steps into being more comfortable with small, routine interactions of that sort.

Who is the one to use toilet paper as tissues and carries it around all day?

I feel like Agon has all kinds of proper handkerchiefs, probably fancy ass monogramed ones and that his brother even sticks travel packs of tissues in his bag, but the asshole will either openly cough or sneeze or will just use toilet paper. He doesn’t keep it with him all day though but just kind of chucks it away.

Who is the one who carries around $100 just in case there is some apocalypse and they need to buy gear?

Agon always has cash on him, but not for an apocalypse. It’s for him to spend it if he wants something. Unsui carries a fair amount of cash in case of emergencies, probably in his shoe, but uses it only for emergencies. So, if it’s for this particular reason, it’s gotta be you or nobody, dear reader.

Who is the one who points with their chin?

Agon isn’t the most respectful person, as I’m sure you’re all aware and he does this and it bothers the shit of his brother, honestly. Unsui hates it but grits his teeth and bites his tongue and Agon won’t react well if you try to chastise him for it either.

Who is the one who takes pictures of their food and Instagrams it?

Agon had a phase like this, where his Instagram was all his meals, his new clothes, the things he bought or were gifted, just projecting this really fancy brand for himself. It continued for a couple months until he got bored with Instagram completely. He only uses it now for the pictures and messages with the hot women he follows.

Who is the one who reads fanfiction daily?

This would have to be you, dear reader, and yeah, Agon probably makes fun of it sometimes because he’s kind of a jerk, no matter how much he genuinely does grow to care about you. Unsui is perfectly fine with your hobby of reading fanfiction but isn’t really all that into reading it himself, unless you insist he read something in particular.

Who is the one to write fanfiction?

If Unsui ever got into fanfiction, which I don’t think would really happen but it’s a nice thought, I do headcanon that he’d be an absolutely amazing fanfiction author, with well written and nuanced takes on the characters and solid storylines. He’d never give any hints as to who he was outside of the fanfiction and he’d keep it a really big secret, honestly, hiding it really well from anyone who knew him.

Who is the one who cosplays?

This would have to be you and probably you alone. Unsui would be a little too embarrassed about playing ‘dress up’ to cosplay with you, no matter how nicely you asked and would expect you to appreciate and respect his boundary there. You could probably get Agon to cosplay with you, but only if you promised to wear a really skimpy or sexy cosplay and probably would still have to be promised some sort of sexual favour to do it.

Who is the one who likes to quote movies, books, and songs in conversation?

Not so much books and movies, but Unsui does find himself quoting philosophers fairly regularly, often without meaning to.

Who is the one to burst out into song randomly?

Randomly? It’s definitely neither of these boys. Agon will sing or rap along to songs he likes when they’re playing and he’s really just too damn good at it while Unsui hums along to songs he likes occasionally but full out singing out of nowhere…nope, not something either of them would ever do, leaving it to be you or nobody. Note though that if you ever try to initiate a sick rap battle with Agon, he will fucking end you during it. That damn natural born luck and skill at almost everything he does, seriously.

Who is the one who secretly uses their neighbours WiFi?

Agon either steals or has someone else pay for his Wi-Fi. He’s not paying for something that he honestly thinks should be free for public use.

Who is the one who safety pins friendship bracelet strings to their clothing so they could have something to do if bored?

This would, again, have to be you, my dear reader, or nobody. That being said, if you make friendship bracelets and give one to Unsui, he will treasure it and wear it. Giving one to Agon…again, he can be a dick and he might make fun of you or call it a cheap gift and act like he hates it. He might even act like he threw it away…he didn’t though. He won’t actually wear it but he carries it around in his pocket every day, though he’d hate for you to know that.

Who is the one who played/plays an obscure instrument just to be different?

Unsui plays the xylophone…and that’s pretty damn obscure of an instrument. Pretty useless too, honestly, but it’s a skill he’s somewhat proud of nonetheless.

Who is the one who puts bajillions of stickers on their door/wall?

It’s neither of the boys, so it would have to be you. Unsui is very minimal in his décor and aesthetics while Agon throws away a lot of the stickers he gets since he’s just not into them at all.

Who is the one who likes to rewatch the same movies?

Getting repetitive but this is you, just by process of elimination. Agon doesn’t really have ‘favourite’ movies or anything. He’s seen it once and he either liked it or he hated it. He doesn’t feel the need to go back and rewatch them, not when there’s no shortage of new things he hasn’t seen before. Unsui, on the other hand, doesn’t actually watch a lot of television or movies. He enjoys them on rare occasions but it’s normally someone else picking the movie or television show and him just watching it with them. He prefers to spend his time reading, training, or things along those lines.

Who is the one who uses bootlegs to watch their favourite movies/TV shows?

Oh, it’s definitely Agon. If he can get bootlegs for free, why should he bother paying? It just seems like a logical thing, right?

Who is the one that writes on their arm to remind themselves to do something?

Neither Unsui nor Agon do this. Agon figures if it’s important, he’ll remember it and if he forgets about it, it obviously wasn’t important. Unsui uses either an app for reminders or has a planner, probably even a mixture of both, just to make sure he remembers anything he had planned. So, it’s you if anybody.

Who is the one who owns dozens of pencils but is too lazy to sharpen them?

This is Agon with pencils but not because he doesn’t sharpen them. He just often forgets to bring one with him and tends to mooch them off other people and then never return them, so he has quite a few pencils just laying around.

Who is the one who uses YouTube for their music because they don’t want to buy/download anything?

Agon actually has people who pay for his music subscriptions, usually some woman or Unsui. Unsui actually pays for a family plan, just for the reason that he knows that it will come in handy and will give both his brother and you access to music without having to steal songs or having to watch countless ads.

Who is the one who always wears the same shoes?

Agon is a fashion boy who loves himself a good pair of shoes and owns a pretty obscene amount of them, to be completely honest. Unsui also owns several pairs, just different shoes for different tasks, so it’s you or nobody!

Who is the one to do asks like this?

Honestly, Agon gets a kick out of things like this and might give it a try to kill a bored moment. Unsui doesn’t really understand the appeal and wouldn’t much like doing them. If you do them, Agon will usually do them with you though.

#eyeshield 21 #es21 #es21 headcanons #headcanons #agon kongo #unsui kongo #polyship #i love me a good kongo brothers sandwich

[wench-and-jezebel]

Dark Angel Reaction: Shorties in Love

Jezebel (@typicalopposite) reacts [with occasional asides by Wench (@scripted-downfall)]

Yaayyy! She’s back! 💕  [SHE BACK!  So is OC and Herbal and Sketch :)]  And she’s getting flirted with

“I’m not into pampering”  Unless Logan isn’t spoiling me enough.  Or is trying to be independent when I don’t want him to.  Or doesn’t have his world revolving around me

[Max, shut up; you've always gotten your insight into men from OC, wdym]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️

Oooohh ahhhhhh  [Truly a beautiful representation of the opening song]  ☠️☠️☠️ it fucking kills meeeeeee

Uh oh, nooooo

Jam pony and Max in the back like 👀👀👀  [tbf I'd be watching them pretty 👀 too]  I WAS

OC you dog ☠️ I saw you check her out when she bent over

Diamond talks in 3rd person too

Max is like DAMMIT LOGAN

Bruh why

WHY IS SHE GOSSIPINGGG

Is this poetry ever mentioned again?  Or was that just an unnecessary act of rudeness we are supposed to overlook  [Not for the most part, I don't think.  There's an unrelated mention of poetry in s2.  But that's, again, not about Logan and more about Max's jealousy]  Writers explainnnn

Mennnnn

Blech

Awwww

NOOOOO THE GIGGLE

[Max being weirdly understanding]  Right!?

This is sickeningly adorable  [I KNOW!  I love her!  Both hers!]

Ma’am.  No one is watching you.  You ain’t gotta look so… Like you’re looking

☠️☠️☠️☠️ “Pee outside.”  I mean… You did just kinda bust up into his house.  But I’m still ded

I love it so much

[Max, wtf was that stance??? The most awkward way to stand ever]  What the hell

This woman and her strange way of standing and sitting and holding guns  ["I'm gonna go home and chill out" *but first I'ma sit here randomly on the table*]  And not look at you.  Angstily.  Like… LIKE.  SHE WENT THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION TO SIT ON THE COUNTER

[Okay, apparently the poetry did come back.  Didn't get much better though]

BRUHHHH She gon die  [You're gonna jinx her]  She is jinxing herself

This is too adorable I cantttttt

DIAMOND NOOOOOOO

🤣🤣🤣  Sketch  [This is the best Max ever acts with him, wtf?]

[MAX WHAT IS THAT ARM DOING]

*sigh* That went well

[Why is she like.  Actually smiling these days.  That's so out of character?]  🤣🤣🤣

They had to make her likable this ep so when she inevitably gets Diamond killed it won’t justify OCs rage

– – – 

Jezebel: OMG I LOVE OC SO MUCCHHHH

Wench: I KNOW

Jezebel: Diamond is being sus af and I hateeeeee it 🥺🥺🥺 but shes also talking about the future and doesn’t ma’am know that’s a sure fire way to get ded?!  I know they went through this massive technology apocalypse but she has seen tv at some point in her life. That’s like rule number one: don’t plan out your future… or you won’t have one

Wench: I thought rule one was don't do the deed in a horror film.

Jezebel: SHE BROKE THAT ONE TOO

Wench: OH SHIT SHE DID

Jezebel: GAHDAMMIT WOMAN

Wench: alskdfj

Jezebel: I also love sketch and herbal! Even tho the latter had like 1/8 of a line… And Max isn’t god awful just like semi awful mainly with her bitchy snatching of the poem book.  Oh, and Logan’s “so they were making out?” MEN 🤣🤣🤣 whyyyy

Wench: I knew you’d comment with that :)

Jezebel: And really that’s all I got for midpoint… Yet another not much has happened minus the BIG main thing to happen episode

Wench: On with the show!  Literally!

– – –

[Fancy flip]

Ughhhhh DIAMONDDDD DONT DOOO IT [tbf, btw, *Max* is kinda acting sus af]

SHE DONE DONE IT DIAMOND WHYYYY

well shittttt  [She lives nonetheless]

[I think he's in CSI]  He looks familiar  [I’ll look him up later]  

YOU COULD HAVE DONE THAT THE WHOLE TIMEEEEE?!?  This is why people don’t trust you woman

[Also, James Cameron and the "dyne”s again aslkfdj  The Terminator was Cyberdyne; Alien was Hyperdyne; now we've got Synthedyne]

Why’s his apple logo upside down? ☠️  WHY’S IT UPSIDE DOWN?  [Probably because they didn't want to deal with an actual computer?  Or maybe they used to be upside down.]  ☠️🤣🤣🤣

🥺🥺🥺🥺 Well god dammmmit  [I was so sad when I found out about this first time 'round]

Bruhhhh

Yes the hell it is selfish ma’am ☠️  “Imma die. So imma go win back the one that got away and make her happy for the last little bit of time I have… then die on her… and make her life miserable. Cause that’s fair”  Wot.  WOTTTTT???  WOOOOTTTTTTT?!?!?

[OC.  MY DEAR.  STOP QUITTING YOUR JOB.]

OC 💔💔💔💔

Boo!!!! You don’t deserve thissss

I don’t write original characters but I’m about to make her one

[Max, I think you could show some compassion]

Sketchhhh

Bruhhhhh I can’t evennnn

Does she know she’s contagious  [No, I don't think so]  Ok good  [Again, my memory is spotty on 1 episodes (except 17), but I don't think so]  I didn’t want to not feel bad for her dying, for OCs sake ☠️  [Yup]

[The dude's neck brace ☠️]  I know ☠️☠️☠️ Ma’am has some ridiculous feet strength  [Neck brace dude got taken out AGAIN]

🥺🥺🥺🥺

[I'm sorry but I love Max's hair.  Should not be the focus of the scene, I know.  But it's just.  So fetching.  With that Hazmat suit]  Seeee?  SEEEE???

NOOOOO.  IM DONE.  DEAD.  [Next episode’s worse]  I CAN'T 😭😭😭😭😭

Yusssss get ‘em!  [Serves the dude right for being an asshole to the guy who tried to get him to put on the suit]

[Oh shit I forgot that line and damn but it's a good one 😭]  IT ISSSS!!!!  [That scene was very Doctor Who hospital ep, if you remember that one.  With Cassandra and the plague carriers?]  YESSSS

IS SHE THINKING ABOUT LOGAN OR FUCKING ZACH??? BLECH  [asdfkljasdlfkjaldskfj I hate you for mentioning him]

Ye you do get over your first love ☠️

[RESPECT HIS BOUNDARIES MY WOMAN!  Also, she just said Man of Letters]  ☠️☠️☠️☠️

[I could never.  I might die]  Ma’am you did.  [Shut up.  You still haven't read my poetry, actually.  And also, I haven't showed poetry about someone to that person]

BITCH READ IT OUT LOUD!  WE’RE TRYING TO KNOW

[Bitch]  wot.  Wot.  WOT?!  [You just read his intimate poetry.  And just.  Leave?]  WHAT!?!?

Ma’am.  Shut up with the circlessssss.  And explain THE nonsensical HOOPLAH I JUST WITNESSED.  I-  I JUST- WHAT?!

– – –

Jezebel: I… nope I ain’t got nothing else on that! But backpedaling to OC! She didn’t deserve that ooooh my goddddd.  Shit Diamond didn’t deserve that!  Sector guy TOTALLY deserved that!  And… I really don’t know what else to say this episode was very clean cut ☠️☠️

Wench: True!

Jezebel: The real question is tho… Are we prepared for this next episode?

Wench: I am… I've seen it six times :)

Jezebel: You would, angst queen

#dark angel #dark angel reactions #reactions #episode reactions #s01e16 #shorties in love #max guevara #logan cale #original cindy #sketchy #herbal thought #jezebel (pr)

[bonesandthebees]

Strings of Fate Ch7!

And he's back in Wilbur's body!! The sheer relief, Bee. Goodness, it is so sweet. He hugs his big brother Techno!

I love how Techno immediately calls for Phil when Tommy tries to explain the comet. He's like "I dunno how to deal with this- oh wait, I don't have to!"

And Phil shifts from "my son is having a nervous breakdown?" to "ohhhhh it's the other one" and makes him some coffee.

It must be very relieving for Tommy to finally have someone know about the swapping. Because for a moment he doesn't need to be Wilbur. He doesn't need to come up with these cover-ups or strange excuses. He doesn't need to try and act like someone else. He can talk to his dad as just himself.

And Phil lets Tommy call him dad!!! Ahshaghdajhd I'm dying I love angel duo

I assume the person Phil was swapping with was his wife? That makes the most sense to me. That would make for a cute little story. If only he could remember it.

Wilbur's got some amazing friends. Niki just immediately believes him despite how crazy Tommy sounds and instantly resorts to explosives. And Jack goes along with it just because. Everyone needs a rocket duo in their life. Pure chaos and wholesomeness!

And Techno of course is there to demolish the property of the government.

The train! Wilbur and Tommy on the train I am going to cry. This part in the movie always makes me kind of sad. They're so close but just too far:(

i'll be back in a second for chapter 8!!

-🧭

WOOHOO TOMMY'S BACK!! of course the first thing he does is hug his brother he's literally been mourning him :(

lmao yeah techno is not prepared to deal with his brother having a mental breakdown and thinking the apocalypse is coming. he's just like "dad please help." meanwhile phil puts the pieces together pretty quickly and is just like ok gotta get techno out of here so we can talk

oh it was such a relief for tommy to be able to talk to phil as himself. if they didn't have the time limit with the comet, he probably would've stayed there all day just chatting with phil. it was such a weight off his shoulders, even if he had gotten used to pretending to be wilbur at that point

angel duo <33 love them

yes in my head i was imagining that the person phil was switching with was his wife :) neither one of them remembered it later on when they met as adults, but they still felt a connection to each other the 'first' time they met that neither one could explain

niki has a lot of faith in wilbur. if he's being dead serious about something like that, she's going to trust him. plus, she's got her own anarchist ideas and was definitely excited to get to use the demolition equipment. poor jack is literally just along for the ride he doesn't believe this shit at all but he's not letting his friends commit domestic terrorism without him

the train :((

#ask #compass anon #strings of fate

[sedgewicke]

Well. Reading the prologue to the fifth book sure is... A Thing when you've only read the first. Half of it doesn't even count as spoilers to me, it's pure word salad.

My main takeaway is that Sadeas would be fucking pissed if he knew Gavilar was keeping aaaaaaaaaallllllll thaaaaaat from him. And Merida is in on it? MERIDA!? No idea what he'd make of the secrets themselves, it's kind of a lot of a lot.

I am disappointed to know that Sadeas being with Gavilar that night meant nothing more than him hustling up like "Here, take my armor, I'm gonna go probably trying to save your life I hope you haven't been keeping any absurdly massive secrets from me bye!"

Not that I expected it to be revealed that they were banging on top of everybody's coats, but it's nice to have some empty spaces for the imagination to roll around in.

So, what's the deal with telling Dalinar not to drink (albeit in a weird, cryptic way), and then telling his guy to make sure he gets something to drink? Is it to test Dalinar's will? Is it just to fuck with him? Is it to redirect blame from Dalinar for choosing to get drunk that night and put it back on Gavilar? Because that would be on-Brando. (See: Dalinar having the gall to blame Sadeas for not doing enough, and this not being treated as an absolutely wretched thing to say.) As someone who's lived with an alcoholic for 15+ years: Fuck that. I ain't got that kind of patience for winos no more.

Everybody's pissed at Gavilar for how he treated Navani, but to be brutally honest? I don't care. You married a war criminal. What do you want? No, what I'm pissed about is how he must've treated Elhokar if that's what he thinks about him. No wonder that boy's got so many problems. I sure am glad Elhokar got to prove his dad wrong by becoming a Radiant and helping to save the wor--ohhhh. Yeeeaahhh. Fuck you, Sanderson.

EDIT: Because I should've known better than to not include a disclaimer re: my opinions on this fictional character's fictional life situation. I would have been sympathetic towards Navani, despite the fact that she made a blatantly terrible decision... but then ch 75 of TWoK happened and she pulled some real Scumbag Mom Tactics--and unlike Gavilar's Scumbag Dad Tactics, it's treated as NBD, nothing to see here--and so now? I don't care. And if you tell me I need to care? I will care less. Signed, a real life victim of emotional abuse--not that that matters, apparently.

I hope it's explained somewhere, at some point, how Gavilar got into any of this. Did he just up and start having visions like Dalinar, and one thing led to another? I don't know shit about any of these non-human entities pullin' strings and whatnot yet, but I feel like they probably have some stuff to answer for. They gotta know that humans do not do well with having mystical nonsense foisted upon them like that.

What's up with mentioning Aesudan like she's an old chum. We're talking Elhokar's wife, right? How old is she, that she'd be pallin' around with Gav and the Sadeases? Is she like Aesudan Jr. or something?

His family. In that moment, Gavilar saw his legacy crumbling. He was dying. Storms. He was dying. What was le to him? What did anything matter if he was dying. He couldn’t. He couldn’t... He was supposed to be eternal...

ngl, this got to me. Sure, he was a dumb bitch getting up to all kinds of dumb bitch shit, but I dunno, man, something about dying thoughts does stuff to me. Look, I hurt inside when I think about... Roshone's? shitty kid's death, and I don't even remember his name. No one can predict what'll get to me and what won't (probably what's not supposed to and what is, respectively), not even me.

I liked that there were little bips of humanity tucked in between all the red conspiracy string. Like "When was the last time I hung out with my friends? NO TIME! GODHOOD NOW! I think I used to like my wife? NO! RENEW THE APOCALYPSE TO SAVE THE WORLD OR SOMETHING!"

#the stormlight archive #book 5 spoilers #idiot who's only read WoK reads the book 5 prologue #for Sadeas content tbh #gavilar kholin #on no the cat got into my yarn stash #apocalypse renewed for another season #the opposite of cancelling the apocalypse #apocalypse gritty nostalgia-bait reboot #very clearly Gavilar apologism #*looks at the camera like it's the Office*

[subbyenbywitch]

[theme park review] halloween horror nights 29 (2019)

this year’s halloween horror nights will be my third! it’s turned into a pretty awesome tradition for me and one of my partners. we went to halloween horror nights 29 in 2019 on our first date. and i just love that this was the case? it combines one of her biggest special interests (theme parks) with one of mine (halloween). how perfect is that?

2020’s was, of course, canceled due to the early stages of the covid-19 pandemic when the powers that be were pretending to actually try to prevent its spread. we went again in 2021 with her husband and our mutual partner (who is also my fiancx, it’s okay if you need to draw a diagram to follow this), and this year we decided to go again just the two of us because we had such a nice time together the first time.

anyway i’m a giant dork so i figured i’d share some review-shaped thoughts on the previous two before i leave for this year's.

we actually got to the park a bit early to check out diagon alley and ride gringotts before halloween horror nights actually started. obviously me and harry potter aren’t really friends anymore given j.k. rowling’s entire deal about people like me and my loved ones, but i gotta say as a theme park experience what i was able to see was pretty damn impressive. i just wish it were for literally any other franchise. but yeah we rode a pretty cool rollercoaster (it was tame enough for me, a noted rollercoaster wimp) and i tried butterbear which probably everyone needs to do at least once if they used to be fans of that benighted book series, and we got to see the dragon shoot fire out of its mouth so yeah now i never need to go back there again.

… unless i want to see the islands of adventure part of harry potter world at some point which, let’s be honest, i guess i might as well at some point. j.k. rowling fucking sucks and whatever love i once had for those books was totally sucked out of me like by a dementor’s kiss, but i like theme parks and the harry potter stuff at universal is just a kind of a historically amazing theme park experience, so i should probably check it out once and then never go back.

before you even get to any of the queues, one of the most readily-apparent changes for horror nights is that much of the walkable area of the park is divided into themed “scarezones” with outdoor sets & props, as well as costumed scare actors. despite my enthusiasm for the whole thing, i scare kinda easily so i was often hiding or half-hiding behind my partner (gaining partial cover, in d&d terms), and to my delight this seemed to encourage the scare actors to target me specifically, and obviously that’s kinda exactly what i wanted anyway so it worked out pretty well! (this also happened in the haunted houses, but idk, it seemed even more obvious in the scarezones!)

the first scare zone we encountered at the entrance to the horror nights event was zombieland: double tap, because i guess that was coming out shortly after horror nights? i saw zombieland in theaters with some friends in college and enjoyed it at the time but prior to rewatching it for this silly little review i hadn’t seen it again since, and i hadn’t seen the sequel at all, but i still really dug this scare zone. there were some burned out cars and whatnot to give you the feeling of walking around in a zombie apocalypse, and the scare actors were all covered in blood and zombie makeup and did a really great job scaring people. even though zombieland is hardly my go-to for zombie movies, it’s pretty hard to go wrong with zombies as a scare zone theme.

aside from the rob zombie one which i think we skipped, the other scarezones were all original concepts and i really enjoyed all of them! vikings undead was exactly what it says on the tin. viking zombies are like torturing bound prisoners and whatnot, and yeah obviously that super worked for me. the other two were the vanity ball where surgeon “artists” turn people into living works of art and the anarch-cade where a blacklit arcade was full of scare actors clad in neon-lit clothes and wielding neon-lit weapons.

all of these really added to the ambiance of the whole thing, and really made it feel like a much more complete experience instead of just like waiting in line for an hour or two, doing cool halloweeny stuff, and then walking through normal universal studios stuff to get to the next line and wait in line for another hour or two and do another cool halloween thing. especially since a lot of the queues went through hilariously non-halloweeny areas like the jimmy fallon race through new york or the curious george playground. we had a kick talking about how scary those sorts of things were gonna be while we were queuing through them.

of the licensed property haunted houses, stranger things was a pretty easy skip because it had huge lines and i loved the first season but lost interest after that. i don’t think we made it to the universal monsters one, which in retrospect i kind of regret but that’s okay!

we actually started with the ghostbusters one, and it was a really great warmup because it obviously wasn’t too scary or anything but they clearly put a lot of effort into it. it started strong with an awesome recreation of the library scene complete with moving books and even slime on some of the shelves that you could touch. again this wasn’t particularly scary but it was still a heck of a lot of fun.

as far as other licensed property houses, we also checked out the killer klowns from outer space one and the house of 1000 corpses one, mostly because i had seen both movies when i was doing a horror movie challenge on letterboxd. both of these houses… sure were haunted houses based on these two movies!

honestly my ulterior motive for wanting to check these out aside from familiarity was that both movies had a ton of bondage imagery and i figured that might be reflected in the houses, but it mostly wasn’t the case? but the killer klowns one in particular had quite a bit of obvious effort put into its production values and really did reflect some of the rather impressive set design of the movie. there were also some pretty cool effects with uv lights and blacklights, as well as some great jumpscares involving airhorns and sudden loud air jets, so that was awesome. also, both of them had fairly cool facades at the end of their queues, whereas the ghostbusters one was just kinda in a giant studio building with no real exterior decorations, so i guess that’s exactly one (1) thing they did better than that one.

but by far the actually scariest of the licensed property haunted houses was the one based on jordan peele’s us. either this one or ghostbusters was definitely my favorite of the licensed properties ones, though they’re super hard to compare since they were going for drastically different experiences. the scare actors in the us house were on point. like, i basically knew going in what one of the last scares was probably gonna be, and it was basically exactly that, but it still totally got me.

i learned that first year that the real stars of the haunted houses were the ones not based on any properties, though! the ones we experienced were:

nightingales: blood pit, where roman gladiatorial games have been attacked by a race of opportunistic predators that look like humanoid vultures. i loved that a good portion of this took place in the gladiators’ prison, but the scenery through the whole thing was just super impressive.

depths of fear, which is kind of like the aliens franchise but underwater, with fish-like parasitic monsters attacking an underwater base. i super love underwater settings, so this was for sure one of my favorites.

yeti: terror of the yukon, which i wasn’t super looking forward to since “you’re in the northern wilderness and there’s a yeti” didn’t really sound as exciting as the other scenarios but the execution on this was so phenomenal i ended up really enjoying it anyway. and a lot of the scares really got me! especially the ones where the scare actors waited until i had already passed and jumped out from behind me. and the “outdoor” portions were just super impressive.

graveyard games, where some kids defaced a graveyard and now the ghosts are hella pissed at them. you get a lot of imagery related to the backstory in the queue (once you got past the kids zone the line started in, that is, lmao). i don’t have as much to call out about this one as i did about the others, but it was another example of them just going all out with the design of the setting and the costumes and everything.

halloween has been my favorite holiday for the longest time, but i frequently found myself in the position of not really having anything to do on or around halloween, so i love that this has become a tradition for me & my partner. that first year is also just a really special memory, it was just really cool being there with her and like… killing time in line together and all that good gay stuff. i can’t wait to go back.

#halloween horror nights #halloween horror nights 29 #halloween #universal studios #theme parks #the wizarding world of harry potter #zombieland #zombieland double tap #ghostbusters #killer klowns from outer space #house of 1000 corpses

[lenjaminmacbuttons]

[i.d. two color digital drawings of juno steel and peter nureyev dressed as princess bubblegum and marceline the vampire queen, respectively. in the first they are sitting back-to-back on a light reddish background & leaning on each other, wearing the outfits from the episode “What Was Missing.” in the second they are on a light bluish background, smiling and hugging with their foreheads pressed together and juno’s leg wrapped around peter’s, wearing the outfits from the “Stakes!” miniseries. both drawings have little surrounding doodles of stars and action lines, with a little annoyance tornado by juno on the first and a little heart by nureyev on the second. end i.d.]

click for quality! i am slooowly getting through this podcast while mostly just enjoying fan content with very little context but. look me in the eye and tell me these two couples don’t have the exact same vibe

oH and also bonus:

[i.d. a digital drawing of rita dressed as finn the human, sitting on a white background with a big grin and waving a bisexual pride flag. end i.d.]

#tpp #the penumbra podcast #jupeter #bubbline #juno steel #peter nureyev #LISTEN #the principled but morally gray workaholic and the dashing dramatic mischief-maker with a free spirit and tragic backstory #as well as a beautiful voice and sharp teef #having a lovely romance that ended abruptly and harshly then not seeing each other for ages #then having tension and animosity when they reunite but eventually EVENTUALLY getting back together and being happy and in love forever #and probably an apocalypse they all gotta deal with at some point #artyllama

[caitimetravels]

she's insignificant

chapter 5: he should have stayed on that moon

the umbrella academy x (fem) reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: mentions of blood

masterlist

"there you are!" allison ran up behind luther in the hallway. "i've been looking everywhere for you" 

"what are you still doing here? i thought you were gone" he turned to look at her in surprise.

"no, i was gonna go and then pogo showed me this-" she tried to explain what she had found but luther cut her off with a shake of his head.

"well, listen.. i was wrong about dad's death"

"what?"

"yeah, i was wrong about y/n, you know, to accuse my own sister of that- it's just-"

"no, no, i get it-"

"seeing all of you and being back here. i-i should be the one who's trying to bring us all back together not tear us apart-"

"would you shut up?"

"what?"

"you were right. about dad. come on, i gotta show you something"

————————————————–

"i can't" eight didn't like crying, especially not in front of her father. he was always cruel, no matter how much the children pleaded and sobbed. she crumpled to the floor, exhausted. she hated training alone, she wanted to train with her siblings outside in the snow, it looked like more fun than this was.

"you are weak, number eight! we will continue until you can get it right" reginald glared down at her. "again!" 

she pushed herself up, wobbling. she weakly pushed herself again, trying to make something, anything happen. she squeezed her eyes shut, hands forming fists as she thought hard about what her father wanted. she didn't even know what she was expected to do. to no surprise, nothing happened. reginald sighed heavily, disappointed. he pulled a watch from his pocket before staring down at her as she fell to her knees again.

"you are dismissed, dinner will be in 20 minutes" and she was left alone. reginald disappeared into his office once again. she lay on the floor for a moment, heaving for breath. they had been training for hours, pushing her past her limits. grace and pogo lead her siblings, minus vanya, in through the doors. not wanting them to see her like that she gripped the table behind her, pulling herself up and leaning against it. 

"y/n?" ben frowned, stepping over. the others look at her in shock. she shook him off, grumbling about how she was 'fine'. he watched her stumble up the stairs, cringing in pain. her siblings all shared a saddened look. 

when they did rush down for dinner, y/n slumped into her chair, dark bags under her eyes. she barely touched her food, pushing it around her plate.

"number eight!" the next thing she knew five was holding her head up and her father was yelling at her. he degraded her, insulted her but she didn't hear a thing. five slowly let go of her, watching her carefully before turning away, back to his meal.

she sat up straighter and actually started to eat the food on her plate, after all, she must train on a full stomach.

————————————————–

y/n and five walked up the stairs of the mansion, feet dragging heavily. as they stepped up they were met with luther and allison.

"five? y/n? what the hell happened to you?" both stayed silent. y/n stared at her feet in a sort of daze. everything was still kind of confusing. 

"are you okay?" luther reached out to five, "can we help?" the said boy took him by surprise, hand snapping up and grabbing his fist.

"there's nothing you can do" he spat before his expression saddened, "there's nothing any of you can do.."

y/n looked up, watching as he went. she frowned.

"you alright?" she stared at luther for a moment, grimacing as she remembered what they had last talked about. she kept her mouth shut, brushing past him to her room. 

"y/n, wait-"

"just fuck off, luther" she snapped before he could say anything. he should have stayed on that moon.

————————————————–

"number eight" the remaining five siblings with powers stood in a line. it had been a couple weeks since ben's death now. reginald stood in front of them. they had all been told today's training would be different. "step forwards" she did as she was told, standing in front of the others. "you will be using your powers on your siblings today" 

her head snapped up at that as did the others. she had never used her powers on them before and they knew what she could do to others. he sent the others all around the house. she was told to find them, sensing where they were with a blindfold on, almost like hide and seek without any of the fun. it was when she had found them all for the seventh time that she sensed something else. 

"there are five people in line" she stated, "vanya?" 

"wrong" she heard her father scold. "there are only four"

"there's a fifth, i can sense it" she frowned, pulling her blindfold off to see only her four siblings. they all looked confused. "klaus.. is there a ghost? it.. it feels like ben"

"no" he answered far too quickly. ben turned on him from beside him,

"what? klaus! i am here! tell her i'm here!" 

"no, he's not" 

"klaus! what the hell?! you're so selfish! i am here!" but of course, she never knew that..

————————————————–

"come on, luther, i have to show you" allison tried to pull him away but he continued to stare at where y/n had told him to 'fuck off'. he felt.. guilty.

"but.. what about y/n?" he looked at her. he hated that he upset her, he hated that he had accused her without any actual evidence. she was only a child, just like diego said. 

"she's angry, let her cool off. you should apologise but not right now, give her some time" allison offered a soft smile, "that's all she needs, some time. now, come on, this is important" 

"i just.. i feel guilty" luther frowned as they walked towards their father's room filled with cameras. "i shouldn't have assumed-"

"she'll understand" allison reassured with a smile. 

————————————————–

y/n sat in her corner of the library, reading alone. she was calm, it was her safe place, nobody could bother her here. no training, no arguments, just peace.

"eight.." she looked up from her book at her brother's voice. five.

"what's wrong?" she shuffled over, eyebrows furrowing at the look on his face. he was worried, something five wasn't usually.. or at least he never showed it.

"i.. i want to time travel" he begun softly, taking a seat beside her. she frowned, why was he telling her? "i want to try but dad refused to teach me"

she froze, "you're going to try anyway" she realised. he nodded, now looking up at her.

"i know you think i hate you but i don't" he slowly begun, thinking of the words he was trying to say. "i'm telling you because i think you're the most trustworthy.. and i.." he paused, unsure of how to say what he wanted to. "i think you're the strongest, eight, no matter what our siblings may say"

"five.." she grimaced, "i know we don't talk much but i'll support you if anything happens"

"i do want to talk to you more" he sighed, ashamed for having obeyed his father's stupid rules. "but-"

"no, no. it's not your fault" y/n shook her head. "it's hard to go against him, i understand"

"you're too kind.. you shouldn't forgive people so easily, they'll take advantage of you" five frowned and she laughed. 

"i thought i was the strongest, huh?" she nudged his shoulder with her own, finally getting a small smile.

————————————————–

"let me do that" y/n pulled a chair beside five, gently pulling the needle and thread out of his hand. he frowned but let her anyways. "you're antsy" she pointed out, eyeing his bouncing knee. "going somewhere in a rush?" 

"i need to go back" he stared out the door, ready to rush out. "i need to find whoever this eye belongs to so that i can stop the apocalypse" 

"i know" y/n nodded, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as she finished stitching him up. she gently used a cloth to wipe the blood off his arm before placing a bandaid over it. five stood, pulling his shirt on and buttoning it up.

"can i come?" she watched him stuff dolores into the duffle bag and swing it onto his back. 

"no" he barely spared her a glance as he moved towards the window. he climbed out.

"what? why not? come on, five" she leaned out the window, watching him begin to climb down the fire escape. 

"i need to do this, y/n, it's important" he looked up at her now. "just wait for me here, i'll come back, okay?"

albeit hurt she nodded, she needed to be understanding. she frowned, moving away from the window, hoping to find something else to do. instead as she walked out of the room she noticed luther.

she quickly moved towards her room, hoping he wouldn't see her. she couldn't deal with anymore fighting right now. to her misfortune he did notice her, following her to her room. she swiftly locked the door as she ducked inside.

"hey.. y/n?" luther stood outside her locked door, hand giving a single knock.

"what do you want?" she hissed back, refusing to open it for him. she didn't need anymore of his accusations.

"i'm.. i'm sorry for accusing you" luther sighed. he had to get this over with, she deserved an apology. "it was wrong and i shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that"

he heard her cautious footsteps as she made her way to the door. there was pause before she slowly peeked out. 

"you mean it..?" she frowned, eyeing his carefully. he nodded.

"i'm sorry. i know you've probably been lonely here, i know what it's like-"

"just shut up" she breathed out a laugh, pulling the door open fully, looking relieved. "no more fighting, please? i just want my family back.." the last part was quiet, vulnerable. luther nodded, smiling back. 

"no more fighting" there was a comfortable silence that fell over the two of them before luther spoke again.

"by the way, do you know where five is?"

"yeah, why?" she tilted her head at him, confused.

"we're having a family meeting.. it's about mom. i'm going to get him"

"okay, but i can't guarantee he'll find this as important as you do"

tag list: @rxses-and-reverie @lostgreekgod @on-yourmark-99 @bicyhot1 @navs-bhat @midnightmystic

#tua #the umbrella academy x sibling reader #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #tua x sibling reader #tua x reader #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #luther hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader

[thefingdixon]

No way home - Shane Walsh x you - Chapter 1

Pairing: kinda ?? Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader & Shane Walsh x Fem!Reader

Setting: first seasons 

Summary:  U’re on your way to survive when suddenly, some people get on your way. Will those strangers be helpful or on the other hand will they try to take advantage of you somehow??  

Words:  1,377 (maybe expect more next chapters, this one is a test & first one like an introduction^^)

Warning(s): kinda Violence?? , Swearing, traumatic memories

A/N: Aye! I’m new writting here (not writting, tho) I also write on wattpad (but on my first language) anddd decided to give it a try here. I’m a bit tired of not finding more interesting imagines about Shane apart of the smut ones lol (He’s hot we all get it but... feels 2 me that Shane can be or could have been much more) hope you enjoy it as much as I’m gonna for sure enjoy this ride. I’ll think of writting more if y’all let me know that u like it. Happy reading pals!^^

It’s been days away since you left the safe store where you rest and now live; you were tired. Your legs almost feeling like could stop responding any moment now.

Also, starting to feel a bit desperated to go back with the bit of the things that you found... mainly cigarettes and some canned food, you saw the chaos that the apocalypse had formed on the main road, with all the cars abandoned..

‘Who the fuck would have thought that apocalypse movies could look or be this real??’ kept sounding in my head everytime I saw an apocalyptic scene but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’m getting used to it. 

What I wasn’t getting used to was to accept the fact that everything and everyone that I’ve once loved is actually dead. Wether I’ve seen it or not; I avoid the flashbacks of my fam as walkers drinking the bit of alcohol that I find, ‘’clever choice? probably not’’ when you’re trying every damn second not to get killed. I used to think that I didn’t care anymore if any walker came and just bite me, but now for some reason I do.

I wanna a place on this world no matter what it costs, I used to want to die every minute of my past life despite that I loved my fam, they weren’t the most sympathethic with what was going on in my head or how I was feeling. Now, an apocalypse comes and I suddenly want to live cause it gets to real fight against the dead to stay alive, not just my head.

No more thinking or sadness, I won’t allow me this, now. I was looking for some gas at some cars, most of ‘em had run out off it cause people abandoned em with the motor on because of the panic of the moment.

-There we fucking go — I said when I saw right in from of my eyes a big motorcycle standing still, so fucking beautiful. I caressed it like it was the curves of the body of a woman for a man — Gotta get all the gas outta you. -I said whispering to myself smiling when I heard voices coming at me—

I’ve fucked up.

-Hey! Ms.! U’re in serious trouble.  —A manly voice said getting close to me—

I attempted to run but I failed, strumbling right to the floor. 

-You alright? — Said another manly voice getting close—

-No, fuck off  —I said turning to my side, now seeing clearly that what I had next to me were two man; a sheriff and a Deputy police.

-Watch your mouth, alright? — Said the sheriff pointing at me with a gun — Are you bitten?

-Do I seem to?  —I answered not in the mood of dealing with the police... even in a fucking apocalypse, had to be a joke —

-Can you chill for a sec?  —Asked the Deputy seeming to be losing the bit of the patience that he could have remaining-.

-Okay, what do you both want. I’ll get my ass outta here I just wanna go back to where I came from with the things that I got.  —I said in a tired sound of voice —

-Yea, you know, sure. The problem here is... that u fucked up with that motorcycle. U have no idea who’s the owner.  —Said the Deputy looking at me —

-Is that a threat?  —I said upping my eyebrow looking at him standing up outta the floor without help —

-You can sue me if you want, but no. At least not by me. — The Deputy said with a bit of a smile on his face —

Damn sure he was handsome but he was a Deputy after all, he could be anything but someone who I would hang out in any kind of way. Too much rightness for me, I guess.

A dirty man with a crossbow appeared, showing such a mood. An angry mood. 

-Hey you fucking bastard ‘gotta enough gas now? ‘cause if ya don’t want me to beat the shit outta you you gonna give it back to me  —He said looking at me Clint Eastwood glance kind —

-Yea sure, then.. beat the shit outta me. You really gonna beat a woman? what a gentleman— I said face to face with him —

-Yea, listen do I fuckin’ seem like someone who wants to be a fuckin’ gentleman??  —He said kinda challenging —

-Well, well. Enough show for the both of you. She’s just a girl compared to you, Daryl, c’mon man. —The sheriff said looking at me —

-Damn sure she has some balls to talk to me like that — He said stepping back and grabbing the bottle that had the gas that I stole from his bike—

-I ain’t a little girl.  —I said also responding in a mood—.

-I SAID STOP. PLEASE. — Said again the Sheriff —. You said you have a place? 

-Just an old store it’s a bit far that’s why I wanted to steal some gas, I’m exhausted. I walked all across the way to attempt to get anything  —I said sighing —

-We could get you there if you want, but stop looking for trouble doing that. U saw damn well that his bike was not abandoned, someone could kill you. — Said the Deputy looking at me up and down —

Rick upped his eyebrow noticing Shane’s glance at her.

-Sure but how do we know that she ain’t dangerous or that this is a trap by some group?  —The sheriff said carefully —

-You seriously think that I’ve got a group behind and that I’m gonna be sent alone out here??  —I said not believing his words, it sounded stupid in any way —

-You could be like that one  —Said the sheriff pointing at Daryl — He goes out alone many times cause he has such a mood that can’t stand people most of the times. He sure can protect his ass, and you seemed much alike. 

I sighed and rolled the eyes, Daryl did the same at being compared with a ‘’little girl’’

-Name, babygirl?  —Said the Deputy —

I smiled at him, cause the nickname. 

-Lillac. — I said —

-Like... you know, the colour?  —he said , I nodded- Such a curious name, eh? Rick and I used to hear a lot of but not like that one. — He said smiling sympathetically — Oh, eh.. I’m Shane, the sheriff’s Rick, the dirty one Daryl. He ain’t familiar with water, we’re sorry.

-I swear.. — Daryl was about to swear over all the possible god known —

-Don’t... well maybe you could pick up your things and join us if you want I mean, thinking bout it I feel a bit bad on letting you all alone. Must be hard to get here, I know what it is to be alone in this world. — Rick said remembering when he left out the hospital —

-Now, How do I know that you won’t take adventage on me stealing my things, that u ain’t bad people in disguise?  —I said putting my hand on my gun that I had hidden on my waist —

Shane handled me his iddentification, I smiled looking at his information.

-Shane Walsh. — I muttered smiling —

-Wanna come with me?  —Shane said blinking an eye to me —

-Don’t attempt to flirt on me in an apocalypse with ur sheriff-companion by ur side and a filthy guy, weirdo  —I said smiling and giving him back also a blink —

He twisted a bit his head, just amazed by the answer. He knew damn well he’s handsome, so didn’t expected that she came up with that.

-Wanna come with me? Seems u liked my babygirl  —Daryl said going to his bike putting the hand on it waiting-.

-Yea, looks cooler than a police patrol car. -I said giving Daryl a smile —

I could feel the jealousy on Shane because of how things turned. Now she was going to be in that ‘trip’ with Daryl and not him. Rick was busting in laughter because of the way his mate was rejected in just mere minutes.

Daryl put the gas back on his bike, looking at her.

-Gotta any cigarettes so it makes worthy the ride??  —He said with a raspy voice, that made him a really interesting guy appart of his attitude —

(To be continued on next chapter..;

#daryl dixon imagine #shane walsh imagine #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead #imagine #rick grimes imagine #twd imagine #jon bernthal imagine #bernthal imagine #norman reedus #norman reedus imagine #jon bernthal #bernthal #bernthal fanfic #bernthal fic #imagines #tv show imagine #shane-walsh-imagine #shane-walsh #shane walsh #shane twd imagine #shane twd #shane the walking dead #shane the walking dead imagine #zombies #tv shows #imagines tv shows #the-walking-dead #twd #walkers

[natashastruggles]

Its 4am and I have so much assignments but my brain has been overloading with TUA recently and I read too much tumblr post and I just have to rant so leave me be.

It’s been like 3 weeks since I finished watching TUA and around a month since I joined this fandom (I was desperate after watching ep 1, it was too pretty and the plot was fun but I had no time if I wanted to fully enjoy the whole tv show experience so I went to read the fanfics but not indulge on the tv series just yet because I had an god awful amount of piling assignments)

Anyways, it has been weeks and I can’t stop thinking about the show, Five in general because my god, this lil murder gremlin has such a tragic fcking life I can’t even comprehend how tf he is still alive sometimes.

It begins with Reggie abusive upbringing (which on hindsight was probably the best years of his life which speaks volumes in itself), and then he yeeted himself to the apocalypse the first time he tries time travelling (bless his soul), and afterwards works with the Commission for the chance to be back with his family and then he did it. He successfully transported himself 8 bloody days before the world ends. This man is on thin ice and it shows.   Then he does all he can to try and solve and stop the apocalypse but his siblings think he’s crazy and barely helps out until the end. Fast forward to Dallas and he’s running on adrenaline at this point because where tf he has the energy to keep going continuously with the shrapnel wound still fresh on his side. He gets blame throughout the whole ass season (this poor boi), gets thrown off a stairwell, took a frying pan to his head, fought himself, got crushed by falling debris of bricks whilst trying to save the same brother who yeeted him off the stairwell without hesitating. He even made a deal with the Handler because he was that desperate. He wasn’t even trying to stop the apocalypse at that point, he just wanted his family to be safe. But for the love of god, his siblings still don’t see that. 

Diego’s line of “I know what it’s like to love dangerous people. Difference is… they love me back.” where he doesn’t even glance at Five honestly hit me hard because we all know he loves them fiercely. He spent years in the apocalypse constantly trying to figure a way back, joined the Commission so he could go back to his family, accepted Handler’s deal TWICE to keep them save, and rewind time even with bullet holes in his body, even when he doesn’t know the consequences of said action, but he does it in desperation to save his family once more. In which said family is still unaware of this stunt he pulled. Honestly I’m a bit salty he doesn’t face any sort of consequences from rewinding time, like at this point he could just be immortal 

My heart aches for this old grumpy boy. The whole time he’s literally trying his best, but no one seems to acknowledge it. I personally feel like season 3 or 4 should turn him into the bomb, instead of vanya because boy oh boy, that would be so juicy. Imagine his siblings trying to stop a feral Five that has lost all hope, because let’s be real homeboy gotta have a breaking point at some point and his chaotic family is pushing all the right buttons to make him self implode. He is literally running on spite and the need to save his family. But once he learns no matter his effort on saving the Hargreeves siblings, that it’s all in vain, he gon snap. 

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

#The Umbrella Academy #tua #five hargreeves #he deserves so much more

[lilix-love]

Things we don't talk about enough #5

Sort of not really idk but it fits under the tag so

Sweet Home, right? Specifically the webtoon but the drama is also acceptable spoilers below

Hot take: Hyuk deserved a fucking breakdown. Hello?? HELLO??? Maybe it's just because I miss him and I want more angst but

UM THIS MAN'S MONSTER TURNING REVEAL WAS JUST HIM ASKING WOOK NOT TO SNITCH HIM OUT TO HIS SISTER

Which was a great reveal, I am DEFINITELY not complaining. That scene lives in my head rent free 25/8

What I'm saying is, Hyuk, no matter how much of an asshole, was still the leader. He was basically holding everything on his shoulders, he was overseeing EVERYTHING. Can you imagine the pressure? You've gotta make smart choices at the expense of select people for the good of the group. And he doesn't seem to mind being viewed as an asshole, but at some point the guilt had probably started to weigh on him. Having all these grown ass adults needing taken care of like children and then getting pissy when they don't have their way, meanwhile you're trying to ration food, figure out where everyone is going to get water, make sure Hyun didn't turn,,,

He's got a lot on his plate! And then when the monsterization process began MMMMMMMMPH the angst potential!! Who's going to take care of his sister? Would she really be okay without him? Not to mention WHO TF WANTS TO BECOME A MONSTER LIKE THAT'S SO SCARY! He had to hide his symptoms for who knows how long and struggle with all of that, while at the same time managing his little apocalypse group

This man probably has some major imposter syndrome too. Having to uphold this smart, strong, put together leader when this man is just a kid pretty much, same age of Hyun. And being the smart leader obviously doesn't earn you many friends, meaning he was dealing with this all on his own. And you're gonna sit here and tell me all of that wouldn't break a man?

Not buying it.

Maybe I'll have to write a fic.

#Sweet home #eunhyuk sweet home #lee eun hyuk #sweet home netflix #sweet home webtoon #sweet home manhwa #sweet home drama #hyuk sweet home #hyuk #lee eun yu #eunyu sweet home #sweet home spoilers #webtoon #sweet home kdrama #kdrama #things we dont talk about enough #my nonsense

[can-youimagine]

Bracelet (Diego Hargreeves x Reader)

Requested by @irenne-stans​: I’d like to request a Diego Hargreeves x reader Set in season 2 the reader is close friends w/ the academy (especially Diego) and gets sucked into 1963.when the reader first sees Lila very close w/ Diego her first instinct is to fight and Lila would say like “he’s clearly over you is even made me a bracelet” the reader responds w/ “shitty bracelet he made me his girlfriend” or something like that oh and the reader wins the fight or Diego pulls the reader off Lila. while the others just watch

TW: season 2 spoilers (but you read the request), feminine reader, swearing, hella canon-divergence, poorly written fight scene, wound description

Word Count: 2,333

A/N: I started writing and realized I changed the request a bit (I have horrible reading comprehension), sorry!

Masterlist

It wasn’t like Diego to be this clingy. Ever since his father’s death, he started spending every moment he could with you. You chalked it up to be some sort of existential crisis, especially when he asked, “What would you do if you knew the world was ending in less than a week?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “I don’t know. I guess I wouldn’t do anything differently.”

“The whole world is ending, and you aren’t going to do anything different,” he asked in disbelief.

“Fine, I’ll play your game. I’d spend more time with you.” You punctuated your sentence with a quick kiss. ”Now, shh. This is my favorite part.” You settled back into his chest and turned your attention back to the screen.

“I’ll spend more time with you, too,” he whispered into your hair. 

He kept to his promise, going so far as to drag you with him into a portal to God knows where with much protest from his siblings. The last thing you remember before crashing to the ground was Diego telling you he loved you.

Now, you sit on a rather stiff couch, while the man who graciously let you live with him. He goes on and on about a secret alien race, ‘just like you’. You nod. It was easier to tell him what he wanted to hear than to try to do anything about it.

Luckily, Five showed up not too long after you. He explained everything, from the last apocalypse to this one. While he went off to find his siblings, he left you to listen to one of Elliott’s crazy rants.

“I got an update on another one of them. Escaped from the mental hospital,” Elliott says, as he tosses the newspaper in your direction. “Know him?”

You gasp when you see the picture. “Diego.” Your voice is barely more than a whisper.

“You know him,” Elliott presses. “He’s like you.”

You ignore him. Diego is here. He’s alive, and he’s here. His hair is much longer than it was, but he still looked exactly the same. “Oh, God. I have to find him.” You threw the paper back to Elliott before grabbing your shoes. “How far away should he be?”

He doesn’t have time to answer before you are out the door. “My God, Diego. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” you wonder, heading down the street. You don’t have much time to wonder before you see him sitting in a definitely stolen car. You shout his name, causing him to turn to you. As soon as he sees you, he clambers out of the car. 

“(Y/N)!” The joy on his face is unmistakable. Though, you don’t get to see it for long, as he immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you as close to you as he can, before kissing you. When he pulls away, he holds your face in his hands. “You’re here.”

That’s all it takes for you to start crying. Every emotion the two of you have felt since arriving comes pouring out of you. He gently brushes away your tears, ignoring his own. You almost forgot how good it feels to be in his arms, to just be with him. 

Unfortunately, you don’t get to stay there for long. A woman, who you hadn’t noticed in the car earlier, clears her throat. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Fuck off,” Diego groans. 

“You’re no fun,” she pouts.

Diego rolls his eyes. “Killed the mood, didn’t she?”

You chuckle. “A little, but God, is it good to see you again.” You look passed him to the girl in the car. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Oh, so you’re (Y/N). I was starting to think he truly was insane.”

You give Diego an inquisitive look, which he dismisses. “I was in there for a while. I could only think about you. Where were you?”

You explain where you were and everything that Five had told you, to which Diego can only respond with, “Again?”

“Looks like you gotta be a hero again.”

“So you’re where he gets it from?” the woman interjects.

Diego closes his eyes. It takes all of his self-control not to snap. “Lila-” Luckily for her, Five manages to find you before he has a chance to finish his sentence.

“See you’re pulling your weight around here, (Y/N).” He turns his attention to his brother, “And you are making my life incredibly difficult. Now let’s get you inside before someone sees you.” He turns on his heel and heads back toward Elliott’s.

“Ooh! I’m coming, too!” Lila says, hopping out of the car. Before anyone has a chance to stop her, she bounds up the steps. “Well, you comin’?”

You shrug and lead Diego into the building, but not before stealing another kiss. By the time you get in, Elliott is screaming at Five about the film he asked him to about earlier. Five, rather uninterested in the whole conversation, allows Lila to knock Elliott out before instructing you to tie him up while Five sets up the projector to watch the “Frankel Footage”.

You and Diego are too wrapped up in, well, each other to pay attention to the film. However, when you hear the gunshot, you both turn your attention to the screen. 

“Is the guy with the umbrella…” you trail off, uncertain of if you really want to accuse your boyfriend’s father of murder.

“Dad,” Five and Diego say in unison. 

“What the hell was that?” Lila asks, backing away. “What the hell was that?”

None of you know how to explain what happened. When you don’t answer immediately, she rushes off to hide in the makeshift darkroom. 

“I’ll go calm her down,” Diego says.

“(Y/N), help me find Dad,” Five commands.

“We’re just gonna leave him?” You point to Elliot.

“We’ll just be in the next room.”

You nod and grab the phonebook. You flip through the ‘H’s. “No Hargreeves. Any other suggestions?”

“D.S. Manufacturing.” He moves to look over your shoulder. “There it is! Diego and I are going to see if we can get anything out of him. You need to stay here either to calm down Elliott or Lila. I’m not sure who needs your help more.”

You nod. “Be careful.”

“I will be. You may want to tell your boyfriend that.”

“I will.” You walk over to the closet. “D, we found him.”

“I’ve got to go, Lila. Family thing,” he explains to her before turning his attention back to you. “She’s starting to get some of it. Just keep her sane.”

“I will. You be careful.”

He rolls his eyes. “I always am.”

“Yeah. It’s not like I’ve ever had to stitch you back together right before I go to work.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll be careful. Promise.” He holds his pinkie out, something the two of you started doing early in your relationship.

You lock yours with his. “I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good. Now, go, be a hero.”

He kisses you again before heading out the door.  

Once he leaves, you tell Lila that you are going to make something to eat since she probably hasn’t had anything. She just nods, obviously uncomfortable with you. Eventually, hunger wins, and she comes into the kitchen with you.

“Y’know,” she says between mouthfuls of pancakes, “I thought that that man was insane -- daddy issues and all that -- but now,” the rest of her sentence is drowned out by the food. “So, what’ the deal with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“He just kept telling anyone who would listen about how great you are, how much he missed you, all that shit. So, what’s so great about you?”

You grip your glass a little tighter and plaster a smile onto your face. “I-”

“Not that it matters. You never bothered to look for him.” You try not to let her get to you. You try to be the bigger person, but as soon as she says, “Besides, we were basically a thing at the hospital. Why else would he take me with him? He even made me this bracelet.” She waves her wrist adorned with a string of beads in front of your face.

“Quite a shitty bracelet,” you respond, taking her empty plate from her. Once you turn around, you mutter, “He made me his girlfriend.”

“Oh yeah. Seems to be working well for you. You couldn’t even be bothered to-” Something takes control over you. You slap her as if on instinct. Surprisingly, she seems rather unphased, coming back at you twice as hard. You try everything Diego taught you, but it doesn’t seem to be enough. It’s almost like she grew up in a bootcamp.

Just as she moves to hit you again, the door opens, and Five whistles. “As wonderful as it is to see you two bonding, your boyfriend needs some help.” 

She hits you one last time before running down the stairs. You follow her to a horribly wounded, but conscious, Diego. 

“Fuck,” you both say.

“I’m fine,” Diego says.

You roll your eyes. “Stand straight.”

He tries but fails. “Fine. Patch me up, Doc.”

You take his shirt off and lead him to the couch. You inspect the wound, which doesn’t seem to be too serious.

“I need disinfectant, bandages, some clean cloths, water, and some sort of painkiller,” you instruct. Lila and Five get to work gathering what you need, while you stay with Diego.

“Seems like I should have warned you to be careful,” he jests.

“I’m not the one bleeding out on a stranger’s couch,” you counter.

“You were the one almost pushed over a banister.”

You keep your eyes trained on his stomach, looking for any other scratches.

“You gonna tell me what happened?”

“It was nothing. I was being stupid.”

“No shit.” He laughs bitterly. “You can either tell me now, or I’ll ask her.”

“All out of painkillers,” Five interrupts, “but I’ve got everything else. Lila is untying Elliott.”

You thank him before telling him to go supervise her. Once he leaves, you get to work and hope that Diego has forgotten about the fight.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” he finally asks once you’ve cleaned most of the blood.

“You’re going to laugh.” You put some rubbing alcohol on the wound, causing him to hiss.

“I’m not much of a laugher.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. I was jealous.”

As if to prove you right, he laughs. After an unamused look from you, he stops. “Sorry, but why? You know I love you.”

“I know.” You throw the cloth onto the couch. “I know. She was just talking about being with you and the bracelet and-”

“(Y/N), that bracelet is shit!”

“I know! I just -- I guess I just thought -- I thought I lost you, and the thought of you having this life that I couldn’t be a part of killed me. I know it’s stupid and selfish, but I just didn’t want you to have moved on so fast.” You didn’t realize you were crying until you feel Diego wipe away a tear. 

“I will never move on from you. I love you, (Y/N), and I will make you a million bracelets to show you that. You have nothing to worry about.” He kisses you gently, ignoring the pain in his side. “I love you, and if we were back home, at our home, I’d show you.” You smile slightly. “Thatta girl. I told you, you’re stuck with me.”

“Good.”

You finish patching him up in silence. He has quite a few bruises that will still be there for a while, but there’s not much you can do about them. Since he doesn’t feel up to walking upstairs, the two of you stay on the couch. With Diego next to you, you sleep soundly for the first time since you came here, but he can’t stop his mind from reeling.

He feels horrible about everything that happened. He just wishes that he could have been there as soon as you first became jealous to hold you and tell you that you had absolutely nothing to worry about. He can’t stop thinking about the bracelet. You both know that the bracelet is the least of your worries, but something about it keeps eating at him. He suddenly gets an idea.

He climbs off of the couch, careful not to wake you, and moves over to the pile of cloth. He digs through the pile, looking for some sliver of white fabric in the pile, but he comes up empty. Instead, he grabs one and washes it until the water runs clear. He rips it into three small strips and begins braiding it the way he’s seen you and his sisters do a million times. When it somewhat resembles a bracelet, he ties it around your wrist, cutting it so that it fits perfectly.

When he tries to lay back down next to you, his elbow knocks against you, causing you to wake up. “Diego?”

“Yes, doll?”

“What’re you doing up?”

“I wanted to make up for earlier.”

“Diego-” You move your hand up to rest on his cheek, but you stop when you see the cloth. “What’s this?”

“I thought you deserved your own bracelet. This one is a bit more personal, though, not some mandatory arts and crafts project.”

You examine it. It’s lumpy and poorly braided and a rather ugly bronze color. “Where did you get this?”

“Before you freak out, I cleaned it.”

“You got it from that pile, didn’t you?”

He nods sheepishly, feeling rather foolish for thinking that you would like a blood-colored bracelet. “I’m sor-”

“I love it, and I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You curl back into him, laying the arm with the bracelet on his chest where you can both see it.

#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #tua imagine #tua x reader #tua spoilers #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy imagine

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Texas relief,@whiskeycherrypie donated $25, and requested Sam/Dean, very late seasons, switching. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

(read on AO3)

The second hunt, after, is when things start to feel real again.

First job was the shapeshifter and even after just a few weeks of post-almost-apocalypse vacation they were rusty, as much as they ever got rusty. Sam broke his damn finger, which Dean made fun of him for, and Dean limped around on a half-busted shin that Sam can just stop smirking about, any time now, but they felt—like what? Hard to pin down. Like they were stepping out into a strange world. Like they'd fire a gun and didn't know if it'd recoil the same way it always would, because the world was different. New. At least, Dean kept feeling that way, and he thinks he's known Sam long enough to guess Sam was feeling about the same. Every part of that job was—feeling for a step down in the dark, and then being surprised when it was there. Sam flicking through the local paper checking obits, cautious when he pointed out a possible connection, like he hadn't done the same thing a hundred, thousand, times before. Dean going through the trunk and pulling out their supplies and holding a fistful of silver bullets in his hand and thinking—is this it? Sam, getting the motel room after, when they'd been to the Urgent Care to check out Dean's stupid shin that it turns out, okay, wasn't broken after all, and the woman at the counter asking what kind of room, and Sam hesitating, and glancing back at where Dean was propped up in the office doorway.

But it was right, in the end. They did right. They saved most of a day and killed the bad thing and it turned out that after everything they were still the same guys they always were. After the world ended it was supposed to be maybe something else, but, shit, the world didn't quite end after all, and it turned out… Sam gave his stupid shin a few more days to rest up and kept his finger splinted and then after a week there was Sam, laptop open on the table when Dean came in for breakfast, and he said, "Hey, you want to work?" with every expectation that Dean would, and that—that was new, kind of, in the way that Sam wasn't trying to distract himself or Dean, and it wasn't to patch up some broken thing that couldn't be fixed, and it wasn't because they owed anything to anyone. It was because it turned out that after all this was who they were, and Dean looked at Sam over the island while he whipped up some eggs semi-capably (although he never used enough salt) and Sam glanced over his shoulder when the toaster popped and saw Dean looking, and raised his eyebrows like—what?—like this wasn't just the best hope of Dean's life being realized, finally, right here in a hole in the ground at eight in the morning, on the wrong side of forty. "What's the job?" was all Dean said, then, and then—that was it. That was that.

Second hunt's a success, too. Vetalas, in Wyoming. Dean hates Wyoming. Not for the people or the scenery or the weather, even, though the weather can be a bitch, but because you can't get anywhere with a damn mountain leaping up into the middle of the highway and having to drive three hours the wrong direction to get to where you're going. Sam has heard this argument, and rolls his eyes mostly, but this time, this second hunt, he laughs, and stretches out in the passenger seat with the window rolled down and his elbow hanging out, and it's summer and he's stripped out of his jacket and has his sleeves rolled up and he just looks—good. Dean recites his lines: "Lander to Pinedale should be, what, forty minutes, but no, we gotta drive a hundred miles out of the way to get around this stupid—" and Sam sighs and says his line, which is, "Don’t you like driving?" and Dean says, "Don't get facts in the way here, man, that is not the issue—" and it's… the same ruts, the same life, but Sam's face is all folded up in glad creases, his dimple carved in so deep it looks like it's going to set up residence there full-time, and Dean eases off the gas a little, stretches out the drive, even if it's around the same damn mountain they've circled three times, looking for the same damn vetalas. They find them, of course, and they kill them, and they find three men drained of life in the cellar at their cabin but there are two more that Sam and Dean save, and on the drive back to Kansas through the night Sam's not in that same sunshine mood but he's not anything but content, either. Dean had—he'd hoped, in some shriveled part of himself that hadn't really had much luck with hoping—and maybe the last few years he'd gotten some proof, that what he'd wanted was what Sam wanted, too—but to have the proof, right here, it's—he doesn't pray, really, but he says inside his head very clearly thank you, to whatever might be listening. It's all he's got. He hopes it's enough.

They stop for a booze restock, for stuff to make dinner, and back at the bunker Dean's slow, watching Sam unpack his half of the car. His finger's still splinted but it can probably come off, soon. He gets his backpack on his shoulder and his duffle over his arm and the twelve pack in the good hand, and glances at Dean, and says, "What?"

"Nothing," Dean says. Sam's eyes narrow in that tiny tiny way where he smooths it out so fast he must think Dean won't notice, but Dean's honest, here, and he smiles without meaning to, and Sam frowns at him but smiles back, confused. Dean claps him on the shoulder and Sam shakes his head, says, "Dude, what?" and Dean says, "Nothing, you deaf? C'mon, let's get the beer in the fridge before it gets any warmer," and Sam shakes his head again and says, "You're the weirdest person I know," and Dean looks over his shoulder and says, "Takes one, Sammy," and he's just—sure. Sure, all through his body, from gut to his heart to his stupid brain, always lurching, looking for the exits. What a thing.

Spaghetti and meatballs, for dinner. The sauce is from a jar but Dean takes his time with the meat. Half pork, half beef, the spices he likes, a bunch of garlic. Sam practically inhales it and gets sauce on his chin and Dean grins at him until Sam colors and says, "Shut up," and swipes it off with the heel of his hand, and then shrugs and licks his palm. They're on season two of Game of Thrones and they watch an episode, and Dean wants Joffrey to die and asks Sam to tell him it'll happen soon, and Sam just smiles and says, "Dude, I'm not giving you spoilers after how long I had to wait to read the books. Hold your horses." Dean mutters, "I'll hold your horses," and Sam raises his eyebrows, but Dean just waves a hand instead of getting into the bickering match they could.

They get fresh beers and Dean says, "Hey, let's—" and so they head upstairs to ground level, and Sam brought two spare bottles each, and they go around to the back side of the big abandoned power plant where there's an ugly concrete bench they hung out on, sometimes. Especially before, when the bunker was fuller than it is now. A place to be quiet, to breathe. To watch the moonrise, as they're doing now, and drink in quiet companionship, their knees touching because they both tend to sprawl, and they've never, ever minded each other's warmth. Even when they were pissed at each other, or when it hurt.

Dean holds his beer in both hands, leaning his head back against the stone wall. Sam's quiet at his side. A three-quarter moon, so it's bright enough to lay white-silver on the planes of Sam's face. His nose, a gleam of that goofy ski-slope swoop. His brow. A light shine on his hair, and brighter on the silver that's started to come out in it. Dean's always been a little entertained by that—Sam's four years and a handful of months younger than him, and it's Sam who's been going grey faster—but he never said anything about it because—well, it's just something, that's all. Sammy, with grey hair. He's so damn lucky to see it he can't really pull Sam's pigtails about it.

Everything else, though: fair game.

"Never have I ever?" Dean says, after who knows how long sitting in silence. They're on their second beers, anyway.

Sam huffs. "You're kidding," he says. He tips his head on his shoulder, looking sidelong at Dean in the dark. "Anyway, wouldn't you just get… trashed, at that game? You've done everything, right?"

"Very much underselling your weird kinky shit, brother mine," Dean says. Sam's eyebrows jump and Dean's stomach rushes hot, in a way he didn't expect, even if he's been halfway thinking, all day, about how they were going to get here. "Try this: never have I ever… ate out a chick during shark week."

Sam half-scoffs, weak. Dean raises his eyebrows back, and Sam says, "Seriously?"

Dean spreads a hand, expansive, and Sam says, quiet, "This is so stupid," but then, because Dean knows his brother very well indeed, Sam takes a drink, and Dean says "Ha!" out loud and shoves Sam's shoulder, and then says, after a second's thinking, "Dude, seriously?"

"It's just blood," he says, and it's not exactly defensive but there's a shard of it buried somewhere in there. Dean laughs, half-surprised and half-not. "Not like we don't deal with it every day. You should broaden your horizons."

"Oh, my horizons are plenty broad," Dean says. It's bubbling in his chest, now, ready to come out. This is stupid—"This is stupid," Sam says, out loud—and teenage, and dumb, but he feels… "Come on, your turn," he says, and Sam lets out this long exasperated sigh, but even in the moonlight Dean can see that he's smiling, and Sam says: "Okay, fine: never have I ever had a threesome."

Dean sits up straighter. "What, seriously?" he says, derailed, and Sam shrugs, and of course Dean has to take a drink because Sam knows that Dean—and then it's on, really.

Dancing on the edge. The things they know about each other, the things they might could guess. Dean kills his last beer on never have I ever had sex in a movie theater, and he tells Sam after that that he needs to live more, and Sam smiles at him kind of bitchy and then says, "Hang on, stay here," and Sam gets up and half-jogs away, disappears down the recessed hidden driveway that leads to the garage, and Dean sets his bottle down among the empties and rubs his palms over his thighs, letting the warm denim scratch him up, taking a deep breath. It feels too big to say. Even if he's sure. It's too big to even be true, if it's…

Sam comes back, quick, like he ran the whole way. He has two more beers and the bottle of bourbon they bought today tucked under his arm. "Okay, sucker," he says, handing Dean an open bottle and plumping back down on the bench. Their thighs are solid together. He clinks his bottle with Dean, setting the bourbon down at their feet. "Never have I ever…" He licks his lips, shine in the dark. "Slept with a demon."

Dean blinks. He takes a breath. "I don’t think that's how you're supposed to play," he says, and Sam bites his lips between his teeth and shrugs. Maybe he's a little tipsier than he seems, even if they're only three beers down. Sam takes a drink, quick, but his eyes are focused on Dean's face, the moon a little behind his shoulder, and Dean bites the inside of his cheek but drinks, too, and Sam lets out this quick short breath that—Dean doesn't know, what that means. He feels caught at something.

"Did you—" Sam starts, and cuts off. Quiet, for a second. Dean's cheeks feel hot. "I didn't mean… I meant on Earth, not in…" Awkward. The air goes out of Dean, realizing that Sam's trying to give him an out.

"Me too," he says, voice weird in this way he could be embarrassed by but—he isn't, and Sam's face turns away, and even with full moonlight Dean can't tell what that expression is.

He puts his beer down. "Never have I ever slept with a vampire," he says.

Sam's chin ducks down. Dean licks his lips and folds his hands between his knees. Sam puts his beer down, too, and braces on the edge of bench. There's barely enough room between them for his hand to fit; his knuckle presses against Dean's thigh and Dean licks his lips.

"Never have I…" Sam shakes his head, huffs. He looks up, out at the empty farmland spilling out from the back of the plant. His eyes shine, open, though Dean doesn't know what he's looking at. "I've never slept with a guy. On Earth, I haven't."

Dean bites the wet off his bottom lip, dragging, and then ducks down and gets the bourbon instead. Twist of the cap and a glug goes down—christ, hot. He coughs. "I hate the cask strength shit," he says, and Sam says, "Wuss," thin, and Dean could bicker back but it's here. Here. All this stuff he didn't know Sam was thinking about—things Dean kept secret, and things he didn't—and he didn't mean to dredge it all up at once but maybe it's better. Like this, in the dark. The night warm, smelling like grass and the weeds growing up among the fallow field, and Sam's knuckles still pressed up right there, where if Dean put his hand down he'd cover them.

"Do you remember that time in, uh," Dean starts. Swerving around the mountain, the long way through the dark. Sam's head turns towards his, a little. "Montana, I guess it was. Somewhere. You were… seventeen. That July. You got so wasted."

"Whose fault was that?" Sam says. Dean grins, makes sure it's wide and wicked, and Sam glances up at him and huffs again, more of a laugh this time than whatever the last one was. "That was when we invented beer bowling."

"Yeah, and you sucked," Dean says, and Sam shakes his head and leans back against the plant wall, tipping his head back to look at the stars. They did play, ten-pin with glass shattering because the only ball they had was a half-rounded rock. Then they sat out with Sam tipsy and Dean getting that way himself, only twenty-one and not quite as sure of what he was doing as he is now, and they just… talked. He can't even remember about what. They just sat and they were together and it was about the happiest Dean was that whole year. Like if he could just have that, forever, things would be okay. That was… god, twenty years ago.

"One more round," Dean says, now. Sam's eyes close. Dean leans the bottle on Sam's thigh so he can feel it. "Never have I ever kissed you."

Sam's eyes pop wide when Dean picks up the bottle, and takes a drink. He sits up straighter. Dean lets the burn of the swallow go all the way to his stomach, a bonfire there, and watches Sam's face as the thoughts flicker across it, limned in moonlight. Sam opens his mouth, and closes it, and he's not mad just like Dean knew he wouldn't be mad but it's still enough of a relief that Dean tips the bottle his way, says, "Technically, you did too, so—"

Sam takes it out of his hand but doesn't drink. "No, we didn't. When?"

Dean wipes his mouth, dragging his hand over his chin, and down. Sam's watching him. "After the second trial," he says, finally. Sam frowns. "Your fever was pretty bad. You kept talking about…" He shakes his head. All sorts of things Dean doesn't like remembering. About worth, and right, and being clean. Nonsense, as far as Dean was concerned, though he didn't know how to say it that way, then. With how it was. Instead he leans back against the wall and says, because it's true, and he can say it now: "I just wanted to… I guess, to prove something. How I didn't think of what you were saying the same way you did. How I didn't believe all that crap you were saying about yourself. It was bad and I didn't want you to believe it, either, and I didn't really know how else to… You didn't remember, though, so I guess it didn't do the trick. To be honest, thought I was a better kisser."

Sam doesn't smile. It was a pretty weak attempt. He stares at Dean, and Dean lifts a shoulder.

How it was, then. In the hotel, where Metatron was staying. When he found Sam on the floor and about had a heart attack. Sam's skin burning and ice-cold by turns. His body this huge out of control thing, being taken over by something Dean didn't understand. He woke up while Dean was trying to drag him to the bath, but he wasn't really conscious, hardly making sense. Babbling, half-frantic, trying to make Dean understand—how it was okay, how it was fine if he burned, if somehow the trials scoured the marrow out of his bones, because it was just right after all he'd done and all he hadn't, and it was a use for him, when he hadn't been worth anything in so long. Dean had told him no, over and over, and no again, and he'd slapped Sam at some point to get him to shut up, to try to shock him out of the awful monologue, but Sam didn't even register it, clinging to Dean's shirt while the tub filled, the sack of ice Dean had brought bobbing to the surface. It can mean something, Sam had said, nodding, tears in his eyes, trying to smile, and Dean wanted to throw a chair through the window but he grabbed Sam's face instead and he said it does and Sam shook his head, confused, and Dean leaned in against him, ready to cry too, and instead he…

"I thought," Sam starts, and immediately stops. His hands twist around the bourbon bottle. "I dreamed that."

Dean thinks of a joke to make, something about Snow White, but he keeps his mouth shut. He remembers it, clearly. Sam's mouth, hot and dry against his own. His hands clenched in Dean's shirt, and on the side of his neck. Weak and strong at once. If Sam dreamed it, what does he remember?

Sam looks down at the bottle for almost a minute, Dean counting it away with beats of his heart. A breeze picks up, light and warm. A cricket, somewhere, chirping and then going quiet. It could feel bad but it doesn't. It could be terrifying, but it's just—Sam, and him. Like always. Like it will be, always. He knows that, now. No matter what.

Sam smiles, eventually, for no reason Dean can tell. He wipes his thumb over the rim of the bottle and then takes a drink, two long swallows that are loud as they go down, and then he takes the bottle away from his mouth and puts his hand on Dean's jaw and leans in and kisses him. Brief, hot. Not dry. His mouth tastes like bourbon. It tastes just like Dean's.

Sam leans back. Dean takes a deep breath. Sam looks at him, very close, and Dean puts his hand on the side of Sam's neck, his fingers sliding into Sam's hair, and Sam's lips quirk and he nods and Dean leans in and kisses him, again, slower, pressing in soft with his lip plush against Sam's, tipping to make it good, and his jaw's cupped in both big mitts and Sam opens for him and it's…

He pulls away eventually. He must have been breathing, during, but he hardly sees how. Sam kisses the corner of his mouth, weirdly sweet, and his hands drag down to Dean's chest before he pushes back, blinking. "You better remember that one," Dean says, and Sam smiles briefly, but shakes his head, not letting them off the hook.

"I didn't…" What goes there? Dean could guess but he doesn't want to. Sam's thoughtful now, but his hand's on Dean's forearm, because Dean's hand is—oh, still locked there on the side of Sam's neck, holding on. Sam's still, doesn't seem to mind, and Dean lets his thumb brush over Sam's stubble. Familiar. The world new, and not-new.

Sam squeezes his arm. "Did you start the stupid game just to say that line?" Dean shrugs. Sam rolls his eyes, and detaches Dean's hand from his neck, and stands, but pulls Dean up at the same time, and this time when he kisses Dean it's—full, real, Sam holding him close and Dean lifting his face up for it and Sam getting an arm around his shoulders and Dean pressing his mouth open, just a little, licking Sam's top lip and getting a slow, deep inhale where Sam's close enough that he can feel it.

"Sammy," Dean says, and maybe there's more to say. More that should be said, if this is what—but Sam shakes his head, and says, "Come on," and scoops up the bourbon and his empty beers, and so Dean scoops his up, too, and follows Sam around the plant and down the stairs to the bunker and to the kitchen, where they drop the bottles in a rattle of glass into the recycle bin Sam insisted they get, and then Sam looks at him in the light, his hair a little rucked-up at the back from where Dean was messing with it and his mouth a little pink and his expression just… considering, open, honest, and Dean looks back, not trying to hide a thing. How can he? It's Sam.

*

In the morning, Dean wakes up slow, alone in his room. He has a shower, taking his time, and wraps up in his robe, and comes into the kitchen to find coffee made but no breakfast, and he pours a cup and thinks about eggs, or maybe waffles if he wants to wrestle that ancient cast-iron waffle pan down from the top of the shelf, and he's thinking mainly about the food but he's also thinking, of course, about Sam, and it's only about five minutes of him standing there with his hip against the kitchen island before the door creaks, distant, and then—Sam, in the doorway, shining with sweat.

Dean's stomach flips, very slightly. It's just Sam, soaked and gross after a run. It's every morning, like the last, except, of course—

Sam hesitates for just a second. His mouth turns up at one corner, a little rueful, and then he comes in and grabs his metal bottle from the fridge, and gulps water. Dean turns to watch him, coffee warm in both hands, and when Sam's done he leans against the fridge, breathing deep, and then says, "I don't know, it feels like it should be weirder," like he's continuing a conversation they were in the middle of without interruption.

"Nothing weird about being hot for my bod," Dean says, calm, and Sam snorts. He looks at Dean sidelong, and then turns and really looks at him. Looks, from Dean's mouth to his slippered feet, and it's not much of a view in the robe but Dean spreads his arms out, anyway, and Sam bites his bottom lip, half-smiling. Dean sets his coffee on the island, runs his thumb along the lipstick-red rim. "You know," he says. "It doesn't ever have to be more than this. Just… how we've got it. It's good, now."

"It is," Sam says, easy. He twists the cap back on to his bottle, sets it on the counter, and folds his arms over his chest, and he's still just looking but Dean feels, now, the difference in it. It's just Sam but it's also… maybe a new part, a Sam that Dean didn't really get before, and the consideration there, the curiosity, the attention, it's… He tilts his head back, looks at Sam right back. Sam smiles.

Last night they did nothing more than kiss. Dean stepped close in the kitchen and tipped his head up and Sam met him, one more time, and it was soft and a little strange and a little new, but it felt right, in a way that's been full in Dean's chest, from the first moment of Sam's hand on his face to—well, it hasn't gone away.

"I was thinking I'd make waffles," Dean says, still buoyed in it. "You want one or two?"

"Two," Sam says, and Dean nods, and Sam gets the pan down—showing off, tall bastard—and then goes off to shower, and Dean mixes up the batter and butters the pan and pours in the mix and watches for when the steam stops, eyes on the cast iron but his thoughts around the corner of two hallways and down a few doors, and when he's got four waffles stacked on two plates and he's wondering if he's gonna need to send in a rescue team, Sam comes back into the kitchen with wet hair and says, "I'm going to run a marathon," and Dean blinks at him, entirely derailed, and says, "What?"

A marathon. Apparently Sam's been thinking about it for a while. His runs, he says, in the morning, are usually five miles, but he's been running a little longer each time, and he's at seven now without much worrying about the extra distance. He wants to go the whole way. See if he can do it, he says.

Dean's busy smearing as much butter as he can feasibly fit into the squares of his waffle, but he gives Sam a look. "If I can, he says," Dean mutters, and maybe it's against usual policy to give Sam full credit but it gets a surprised blink and then Sam looking down at his own syrup-free plate with a soft curve to his mouth, so—worth it. Dean cuts a four-square bite and pauses, watching the melty puddles form on the plate. "So, what. Are you going to enter one of those city things? Am I gonna have to drive along the route with Gatorade and applaud from the sidelines? Are you dressing up as a moose for charity?"

Sam shakes his head. "I can donate to charity on my own time," he says, although to be honest Dean's now taken with the moose idea. Sam sees him thinking about it and rolls his eyes. "No. But—I can figure out a route with my phone. Just around here. Anyway, it can't hurt, for the job."

"Yeah, I'll let you chase down the next werewolf," Dean says, shaking his head. Marathons. His brother.

They finish eating about the same time. Sam sips at his coffee while Dean sucks maple from his thumb. "You want to find a job," Dean says, while Sam's piling their forks and plates together, "or do you want to go for another jog? Gotta get up to twenty-six miles somehow."

"Twenty-six point two," Sam says, standing up with the dishes in hand, and then he leans over and brushes Dean's thumb away from his mouth and kisses him, again, and Dean grips the edge of the table and Sam's shoulder, his mouth pushed open on Sam's tongue, sliding in easy like he's got the run of the place and doesn't expect an ounce of resistance. Fair enough. Dean tips his head back and tastes Sam, syrup-and-coffee, and when Sam pulls back his eyes are half-closed and he licks his lips, and his eyes drop to Dean's mouth.

"Weird?" Dean says.

"Should be," Sam says, quieter, but he stands up, and lets his thumb drag over Dean's jaw before he steps away, to the sink, and he doesn't say anything more when he puts the dishes in and stands there with hands braced on the edge for—ten seconds, twenty, thirty—before he turns the water on.

Dean could say something but there's nothing to say. It's weird. It's not. That it's not is weirder. He gets up, refreshes his coffee with the hot from the pot, says, "I'll look for a job," and goes to the library, and lets Sam think, with his hands in soapy water, and quiet to do it in.

There are odd stories—news of the weird never fails to deliver—but nothing so pressing as to drag them across the country on an urgent mission. Dean doesn't feel the need to fake anything, either, to yank out of the bunker on a long drive of not talking through the night and too-loud music and burying their thoughts into means/motive/monstrous opportunity. He sends some links to Sam's email and goes and finds clothes instead, finally, and figures—well, today's a day off. He changes the Impala's oil, washes her. Goes through the trunk, sitting on a stool dragged over from the garage's weird little office, and makes notes of what they're out of, what needs replaced. More salt. More holy oil. Or—not more holy oil, since they haven't seen hide or nor hair of angel or demon in weeks and weeks and maybe never again, and he sits, then, with the empty flask turning over and over in his hands, looking into the trunk, thinking about—how the world is, now. How there's downtime. How, incredibly, there are marathons to run.

In the library, later, Sam's reading on his laptop. "That thing in Pierre might be something," he says, without preamble, and Dean nods—it could be—but then Sam says, "I sent it to Jody, to see if she and the girls want to take a look."

Dean sets the empty flask on the table. Sam's eyes barely flick to it. "What are we gonna do, then?" he says, and Sam sits back in his chair, laptop lid half-closed. He half-smiles, looking down at nothing, and then he looks up at Dean again.

They sleep together that night. Nothing complicated. Dean's room, and the lamps all off but the one over on the table by the door, so Sam's half-haloed in amber light this time, instead of the white moon. Dean's shirt comes off but Sam's stays on, and they're still in their socks, and Sam leans over Dean on one elbow, touching his chest, curious. It's not romantic, or urgent, but Dean keeps smiling, and Sam finally catches him at it and whispers, "Shut up," and kisses him when he opens his mouth to protest that he wasn't saying anything. While they're necking Dean gets Sam's jeans open, and slides his hand inside, and Sam bites his lip but he's half-hard, and gets harder while Dean learns the shape of him. Sam rocks a warm palm over where Dean's swelling up and Dean rips at his own belt, unzips, and then rolls them over so Sam's on his back, and Sam grips his hips, looking up, his hair loose on the pillow and his face just…

After, Dean wipes his hand on Sam's shirt. "Dick," Sam says, and Dean says, "Hey, it was already a disaster, I just added to the general—" and Sam rolls his eyes and nudges Dean off, and pulls the shirt over his head, tugging it off careful from the back. Dean rolls onto his side, looking. Sam's shoulders, and his back. Muscle and, miraculously, no scars. His skin that same all-over bronze, like he's immune somehow to farmer tan. Sam tosses the shirt in the same vague direction that Dean's went and then looks over his shoulder, finds Dean looking. Half-smiles. He lays back, his head on the pillow, and tucks a hand underneath it, looking up at the ceiling. Dean just keeps looking at Sam.

"It should be weird," Sam says, after a second.

"It's a little weird," Dean says. Sam snorts, one corner of his mouth turning up. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

Sam's head tips, on the pillow. He looks into Dean's eyes, then at his lips. He reaches over and presses his thumb against Dean's bottom lip, and Dean lets Sam dent it, pulling, and then he flicks his tongue against Sam's skin. Faint salt, faint bitter. Sam drags his thumb down, wet trail over Dean's chin, and then settles his hand on Dean's chest.

This. This is weird. Sam looking at him, quiet. Sweat's still drying in the middle of Dean's back and he has the sense of what it feels like to have his brother's hand on his dick full in his head. The body part, though, that—matters, of course it matters, but it feels secondary to Sam just... fully present. That they're both in the same weird, weird boat, and that it could go on like this forever, and it wouldn't change a thing.

"I don't want to wonder about it anymore," Dean says. He gets his hand on Sam's wrist, squeezes. "There's—I don't know, man. There's a bunch of crap we should probably be talking about, freaking about. But it's…"

"Beside the point?" Sam offers, and Dean nods. That's it. Sam nods, too, and closes his eyes, and maybe that makes it easier.

Dean closes his, too, and it's just the amber-colored haze of dark, and the kinda-too-warm of the bed, and his hand sticky and needing to be washed, and vaguely wanting a shower. And he's an adult, and he's fucked before, and so it's also that one article about that disappearance in Winston-Salem that he's been half-thinking about all day, wondering if there's more—and then remembering that they're out of milk—and then, when Sam's thumb drags over his pec, under his nipple, the vague jolt of: Sam, and maybe that should be all that fills his head but Sam suffuses every other thought. Dean can't make any more room in himself than he already has.

"Did that woman in North Carolina disappear at night?" Sam says, after another minute.

Dean's eyes fly open. "Shit," he says, to Sam's frown, and they sit up at the same time, and then—it's them, and the job, and nothing's really, in the end, that different.

*

Sam keeps running. He tracks his step count with an app, figures out mile by mile how far he can push it, how fast he can go. Dean goes into Lebanon by himself one day, hitting the post office and the market and just getting some air, and then he rolls to a stop at the single stop sign and checks his odometer, and then drives—a square, basically, twenty-six miles around the farm-fields both worked and fallow, and he imagines what it would be like to run the whole way. He's run for his life, and he's run for the lives of others, but just to do it for himself—no. He gets Sam, most every way, but this one is gonna stay a mystery, he thinks.

"What took so long?" Sam says, when he gets home.

The milk's still mostly-cold. "Estelle wouldn't stop hitting on me, man," Dean says, hauling in his half of the load, and Sam rolls his eyes, and Dean slots the barely-frozen pizza into the freezer and stocks the eggs into their holder and then, when Sam's done putting the cans onto their spot on the shelf, tugs at Sam's belt-loop and gets Sam surprised and then leans up and kisses him, pressing him against the dry goods, and Sam kisses back good and pleased and open and then, when Dean sets back down on his heels, touches the back of Dean's ear and murmurs, soft, "If I knew angry old ladies got you hot I would have tried something different, last night," and gets Dean laughing, unexpected, tucked into the corner of their kitchen.

They've been slow with each other. Dean has more experience but he didn't realize how much more. Sam's not uncertain, not nervous—incredible, how not-nervous Sam is, and Dean got finger-shaped bruises on his triceps one day when Sam just held him down and kissed and kissed and kissed him, body-confident and knowing, smiling pleased and half-smug when he pulled back and Dean was nearly dazed with wanting him. Little shit. Still: Sam's not a virgin, not by half, but he was being honest when he said he'd never screwed a guy—on Earth, that is, and Dean knows exactly what he meant by that qualification, and it was a very very brief conversation afterward ("It doesn't count," Sam had said, firm and honest there too, and Dean had nodded because, after everything, he trusts Sam to be honest), and they left it at that.

It's Sam who brings up more. Dean's content to follow. It's Sam who gets Dean's jeans open one night, petting at the base of his dick and sliding down to cup his balls, long fingers and big broad palm, and it's good but it's Sam who hmms, and then says, "Mind if I—" and crawls backwards down the bed—Sam's bed, the mattress tipping with Sam's weight—and Sam who bolsters Dean's dick up out of the split of his fly and breathes there, eyes flicking up the length of Dean's body where he's propped on his elbows, briefly dazed. "Go ahead," Dean says, voice coming from somewhere approximately at the center of the earth, and Sam snorts, and fists Dean capably from root to tip, and then leans in and licks, flat and deliberate up the spine of it, a wet warmth that shocks in Dean's thighs and between his shoulders and sparking in his hands, making him fist into the blanket. Sam's eyes are closed, like he's concentrating. Dean tips his knee out wide and touches Sam's cheek, and Sam's mouth tips up at the corners, and he shifts forward and takes the head in his mouth and—oh, that. He doesn't quite know how to get his mouth around it at first but he figures it out quick, and he sucks the tip and licks under the crown and fists the rest and when Dean's close, clenching, Dean says, "Come up here," and Sam opens his eyes after who knows how long and they're black, practically, and he crawls up over Dean's body still jerking and Dean kisses him, licks the taste of himself out, and Sam breathes hot into his mouth and groans when Dean comes, looking down at the spill over his fist, and he says, "Fuck, that's good," rough and true. Dean pants through it for a few selfish seconds before he squirms down to return the favor, and Sam's mostly-hard just from sucking Dean, and he's weirdly a gentleman when Dean goes down on him, hands off and careful until Dean lifts off, gulping, and says, "Like you mean it, dude," and Sam laughs and then grips him and that's how they learn that Sam likes dick just fine, in fact, and that Dean likes even more how much Sam likes it.

Sam runs farther. Dean paces him, one day, when they fell asleep in the same bed and mostly managed to sleep through the night together, except for some moment around three a.m. when Sam kicked too hard and Dean threatened blurrily to murder him or dump him out of the bed, one or the other—and way too early after that, Sam nudged him awake, lacing up his running shoes, said, "Come on," and Dean groaned and pulled the pillow over his head and then, well, he came on.

Seven in the morning, autumn settling over the farms. Cold enough that Sam's breath fogs and Dean rubs his hands together, sitting in the idling car with the window down while Sam stretches his hamstrings. "You look ridiculous," Dean says, just to say something. Sam ignores him, of course. "How far are we going?" he says, instead, and Sam says, "Thirteen," and Dean checks the odometer and says, "Okay, Speedy Gonzalez, you just say—" and Sam says, "Go," and takes off, and Dean rolls his eyes and lets off the brake, and the Impala rolls forward, chasing Sam down the farm road, the sun glinting behind them so the whole damp stretch of gravel sparks silver. Nine miles per hour is the pace Sam asked for and Dean keeps it going, on the far side of the road while Sam lopes along on the left shoulder, and it's boring but not as boring as he thought it would be. He keeps an eye on the speedometer, makes the turns just behind Sam as the roads weave around the cornfields, the soy beans, the farm that's just gone to dead-dry grass that waves in undulating strange patterns in the morning breeze. He goes through Zepp one side one, side two, switches to AC/DC and cranks it during Big Balls so loud that a bird startles up out of the bushes by the road, and Sam laughs, coughs, keeps running. His pace doesn't slow, not by a step.

Sam stops, finally. An hour and a half, and Dean has to piss. He parks, turns off the car, while Sam breathes hard with his hands on his knees. "How was that?" Dean says, and Sam shakes his head, still panting, and Dean can't wait any longer and goes over to the other side of the fence post and communes with the morning.

"Dude," Sam says, vaguely accusatory, but Dean only shrugs, and zips up when he's done. When he turns back around Sam's leaning on the car, sweat slicking his hair back behind his ears, and Dean raises his eyebrows and Sam shrugs. "That was good," he admits, finally. He's drinking the water bottle Dean's had sitting in the passenger seat the whole time. "Too fast to go the full twenty-six, but—yeah. Good."

He looks—content, again. Not smug, not even really glad. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows, leans back against the car. Looks out over the little pond, the trees around it. Dean smiles, while Sam isn't looking, and then says, "Well, I left my gold medals at home, but if you want you can run back and get it—" and Sam rolls his eyes, and gets into the passenger side, and Dean gets to fake-bitch then about Sam's stinky sweaty ass on the vinyl, and it's a good morning, like they all are, anymore.

On the way home from a hunt—Ajo, Arizona, and vampires, in what Dean insists is the most ironic job they've ever been on—Sam has Dean stop at a drugstore. Two in the afternoon. Dean heads for the booze aisle and gets a six pack, and swings through the specialty candy and gets some pre-Christmas stocking filler, and then he walks around the aisles looking for Sam, and finds him in—

"Condoms?" he says. Sam glances up at him, holding a box, unfazed. Dean feels the black orb eye of the security camera on the back of his neck and feels—surreal. He tips his head. "I mean, not to go all sex-ed, but it's a little late, don't you think?"

Sam snorts. In lieu of responding he turns the box around in his hand and—not condoms. Astroglide. Dean licks the corner of his mouth and watches an old lady go by with her little cart on the far end of the aisle. "Yeah?" he says, and Sam lifts a shoulder, says, "You have a preference?"

Long time since Dean's had to think about it. He hitches the six-pack onto his other hip and comes and stands next to Sam, looking at the options. Fire & ice, spermicidal. Water-based. Sam's radiating heat, enough to feel six inches away, and Dean thinks about Sam thinking about this: driving through the cold desert, both of them tired after a night of chasing down the vamps, planning to crash in Amarillo. A motel, in Amarillo. He feels boring, normal. Shopping, with a bag of red-and-green Kisses in hand, and the wall of intensely pink pads and tampons looming at his back, and his—brother, waiting, while Dean reaches for the silicone-based KY he used to buy, when he used to have to buy it. The packaging's different but he's guessing the product's the same. He puts it in Sam's hand and Sam looks at it with his cheek sucked in on one side, and then Dean says, "You want something with, I don’t know, electrolytes?" and Sam says, "Yeah," and so Dean goes back to the wall of coolers and pulls out two Powerades, and Sam meets him at the cashier with rolled bandages and aspirin to replace what they used up out of the kit during this hunt, and the woman at the counter glances at their faces as she's ringing them up and Dean says, smiling, "Can I get a two-pack of lighters, too, miss?" and she's like seventy if she's a day but the charm offensive still works, and she's over-the-top as she hands them their receipt and tells them to be well, and Sam's giving him a sidelong look as they take the bags out to the car but, shit, Dean's had enough people giving him looks in his life, and Sam gets to but just about no one else does, now.

A motel, in Amarillo. Raining in west Texas like it never does. They get tacos and margaritas at a hole in the wall and it's still early, when they get back to the room, and Sam checks the stitches on Dean's shoulder—still holding—and Sam takes two aspirins to help with all the bruising on his side, and then Dean eats a Kiss from the mess of the Walgreens bag, and then he tosses the box holding the lube onto the closer bed, and he says, "So," and Sam shrugs, and says, again, "You have a preference?"

Shadow of a smile on his face. Dean gives him a look and Sam raises his eyebrows, all innocence, and Dean says, "You're a dumbass," and goes over and pulls Sam in by that godawful orange jacket and kisses him, and then he goes into the bathroom.

He takes his time. Showers, cleaning up. Leans his forearm against the wall and leans his head against his forearm and pushes his fingers inside, on the thin glide of the little complimentary bottle of conditioner, reminding his body that this is—yeah. This is good. He comes out with a towel loose around his waist and finds Sam mostly-stripped, leaning back on the bed with the TV on mute and his hand in his boxers. Dean glances at the screen—ESPN, showing basketball highlights—and says, "Jeez, you got a kink you haven't told me?" while Sam snaps the TV off, and Sam says, flushed, "Not my fault you took forever," and Dean says, frank, "Figured you wouldn't want any Mr. Hanky guest appearances on our first trip on the backroads, but if you'd rather—" and Sam says, "Jesus, Dean," and Dean grins like an asshole, and Sam rolls his eyes, and—

Sam's screwed women like this before, turns out, and knows to go slow. Dean's on his back, his one leg caught over Sam's arm and the other curled around Sam's hip, and he's not sure slow is slow enough. "Fuck," he says, grinding his head back against the pillow, and Sam kisses his jaw, murmurs, "Sorry," and Dean grips his shoulders and says, through a groan, "No, you're not," and Sam smiles against his skin. Dean knew it. Little shit.

Sam lifts up on one elbow, touches Dean's cheek. He drags his hips back, pushes in. Dean breathes shakily out and Sam's expression changes. "Is it—" he says, but thankfully doesn't ask the stupid question. He leans in, tilting Dean's hips to a new angle, and pushes again, and Dean drags a hand down Sam's chest, and Sam's watching his face, he knows, watching everything, learning him, figuring out what he likes, like he has with every new thing they've tried—probably cataloguing it on some insane chart, like he's been doing with the running—but just now, Dean doesn't care. He didn't realize how much he liked this, or how much he could. "God," he says, gripping Sam's hip, "go—" and Sam, thank christ, for once does what he's told.

Sam sucks him, to finish him off. When Dean's spent, Sam spits to the side, and then slides back up, kissing Dean's nipple and then the sweaty angle of his collarbone and his jaw and his cheekbone and the very end of his eyebrow, for some reason. "Freak," Dean sighs, content, and Sam cups his other cheek and says, "Back at you," quiet, and Dean tips his head in towards Sam's and breathes with him. Sam's mouth tastes like dick and it's a combo Dean is extremely fond of, but that's not, anymore, anything new. He reaches down and holds Sam's dick—still slick, because this is indeed the good lube—and half-hard, and sensitive apparently after doing its work, from how Sam hisses, and squeezes his forearm. Dean says, "If anyone gets to complain," and Sam lifts up then, and watches Dean's face while he slides a hand back between Dean's thighs, and presses gently. Dean bites the inside of his lip but lets Sam try it, and after a second Sam—slides a finger inside, where he's busted Dean open, and Dean lets his knee fall wide with the slick sting, and wonders. How much he could take, if Sam asked.

In the morning, Sam goes for a run. Dean stays very firmly in bed. "How'd it go, Romeo?" Dean says, drowsy in bed when Sam finally gets back, and Sam says, "You know that makes you Juliet?" but then, while Dean's frowning and trying to dredge up a comeback, he says, "Sixteen miles, mostly eight miles an hour, and I brought back coffee," and Dean lifts up enough to see the carrier on the table, steaming, and says, "You're forgiven for the Juliet thing."

He has Sam drive. He's feeling—hard to pinpoint, how he's feeling. Still cloudy, over Texas and then over Oklahoma, and Sam's driving a regular level of fast so they're going to get home around maybe dinnertime. He's thinking about steak—they could stop at that butcher in Smith Center—when Sam says, "Hey, let me ask," and Dean grunts, and Sam says, "What's it like?"

No guessing what he means. Dean says, "I mean, my ass is sore," and Sam rolls his eyes, and he's not being a dick about it or anything, and Dean thinks about how to answer. What's it like.

What came before doesn't matter, so much. They already talked about how only Earth counts, and that's true for a bunch of reasons, but on a physical level there's just no comparison. Even on Earth, though, this was different. What came before was mostly something Dean was okay with, either because he wanted it or because he needed it or because he had a job to do, and he's not someone who dwells on shit that could be different, and he doesn't really wish any of that was different. No point in it, and it doesn't bug him. It was always better, though, when he liked the person, and he got that sometimes, and when he got that it was… good, but. Maybe what he and Sam have isn't romance, isn't some big sweeping thing like from a movie—if Sam tried to sweep him off his feet, or vice versa, they'd probably just bicker and then fall over—but. But. What was it like?

He's been quiet too long. "It feels good," he says, honest. Lame, and Sam knows it, from how he glances across the seat. Random section of I-35, while Sam passes a semi. Dean watches the approaching road rather than look at Sam. "I don't know, man. Hard to describe. When you're with someone and you're figuring out what works, what makes the fireworks, that's the same from either side. But it's…"

Quiet, again. In the corner of his eye he can tell Sam looks at him, and he shifts his weight. His ass does hurt. Sam's got absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, in the jockstrap department. That he can get used to; the weird feeling under his breastbone, this thing he's been carrying all morning, that's going to take a little longer, maybe.

"Jessica used to say she felt like she was taking care of me." Said—casual. Dean stares across the bench seat, can't help it, but Sam's just looking out at the road. One hand at ten, the other at about five thirty, his hair tucked behind his ear. His jaw clenching and then unclenching. "I don't know. I didn't get it—felt the other way around, to me—but I always… wondered, I guess."

Taking care? Maybe that's it. Dean finds he's holding his hand over the weird feeling in his chest and shakes his head. Last night: Sam's head bent next to his, Sam's chest against his, his back drenching sweat against the bed, his body loose-open finally to Sam's dick after so long of the punishing stretch. Sam's hips grinding in against his hard and low, and his arms around Sam's shoulders, and his eyes closed and just—taking, feeling the slick parted jolt and feeling Sam quicken and feeling, deep, in this jolted raw way, how Sam was getting close and Sam was winding tight and how Sam was coming, how he hitched and crushed in and breathed strange and didn't make any other sound but held Dean still and close and tight while he unloaded. With other men Dean was tired or sore or impatient, wanting his turn. Last night, he held Sam's shoulders and felt Sam's face duck in to his throat, and Sam's lips pressing there, and he put his fingers in Sam's hair and twined his leg around Sam's and wanted it to go on and on. Perfect.

"Guess you'll have to try it and find out," Dean says, after way too long.

Sam glances at him again, and pulls into the right lane, and settles in for the long drive. "Guess I will," he says, and he's watching the road, and so maybe doesn't notice the deep breath Dean takes, and lets out slow.

It turns out a marathon is not, in fact, twenty-six point two miles. "Technically," Sam says, while Dean's on his back under the Impala, "it's 26.21875 miles."

Dean rolls out on the bench to give that the incredulous look it deserves. On the stool, Sam shrugs. "Why," Dean says, "on earth, ever, would anyone care."

"It's the rules set by the competition," Sam says, and Dean rolls his eyes and slides back under the car. "It's just the length. Same reason a football field's a hundred yards."

"Isn't it the length of the run that Greek dude did?" Dean says, later, chopping up potatoes for salad. Sam looks surprised, but not as annoyingly surprised as he's looked other times. "Did the length of that change, somehow?"

"Dean," Sam says, patient, "I hate to say it, but I am not in charge of the rules committee for marathons. I'm sorry to disappoint."

During dinner Sam's doing math. 26.21875 isn't that much longer than 26.2. In March he did twenty-five miles in three hours and fifty-five minutes, looping back from the pond and then running way out to town and back again, and he's nearly there. "What's the difference between 385 and 352," he mutters, and Dean doesn't bother even attempting to work it out in his head before Sam says, "Thirty-three yards."

"Doesn't seem worth making a whole-ass rule about," Dean says, but Sam's just ignoring him at this point, probably looking at his dumb running spreadsheet, and that's fine. Thirty-three yards, Dean thinks.

There are weird old surveyor tools in one of the archive rooms. One morning when Sam's back from his run, soaking off the ache in the shower, Dean figures out how the hell to use the damn wheely thing, and he walks it off. He drags his boot in the dirt, right in front of the stairs down to the entrance, and then walks it out: ninety-nine feet, up the driveway, out to the gravel road. Almost exactly the length to the gate. Dean smiles, and walks back from the gate, and then marks ninety-nine feet precisely, with his boot and then with three stones, so he'll know.

Sam's planning for May 1. Dean doesn't ask why; he figures he can guess. They find a job, April 21, and it's a family of ghouls that's gross and shitty and time-consuming to put down, but they manage it on the seventh day, at least, so they don't overshoot the deadline. Sam sleeps in the passenger seat while Dean drives straight through all the way back from Pensacola. When they get back to the bunker it's two in the morning and Dean has to shake him awake, and he blinks in the barely-moonlight, and Dean has to say, "Up and at 'em, Sasquatch," for Sam to rouse, and Sam follows him down the stairs and into the bunker and through the dark halls and then, quiet, straight into Dean's bed, barely kicking off his boots and shrugging off his jacket before he curls over the pillow, sighing into the mattress. Dean stands at the foot of the bed, looking at him. Then he goes upstairs, and does the thing he's been thinking of doing for weeks, and when he finally gets back to bed he strips down to a t-shirt and boxers and slides in right up against Sam's back, and Sam doesn't wake up but he does make this tiny sound in his chest, when Dean's arm goes around him, and Dean sleeps, finally, like the dead.

Thursday's a slow day. Sam's not running again, apparently, until Saturday—he ran pretty flat-out a few times during the hunt, and Dean guesses that's probably training enough. Because he is, in fact, supportive, Dean makes food that Sam actually likes—chicken breast and broccoli and some stupid grain thing that he read was good for slow-release energy, and Sam says, "I didn't know you knew what farro was," which proves that in fact it's Sam who's the dickhead, but then Sam practically inhales all of it, so. Success. They watch Chariots of Fire so Dean can remember the stupid song, and Sam goes and does his weird yoga stretching after that, and then they sit together in the workroom and make silver rounds for a while, since Dean got a load of pawned shitty jewelry in and it's one of those chores that falls down the priority list when bullets are flying, and then when they've packed up the bullet boxes, and there's really nothing else left to do with the day, Sam stands up and stretches with his fingers reaching way up and his body arching, pulling long after the hunched work, and Dean's mouth goes wet, and he says, without much thinking about it, "Hey, Sam," and Sam says yeah without hardly paying attention, and Dean says, "I want to fuck you tonight."

Sam looks up at him. Dean lifts a shoulder and Sam takes a visible breath, and he says, "Smooth, Dean," but it's not a no.

Dean shaves, while he's waiting. He takes a whore's bath in his sink, and waits in his boxers just like Sam had, that first time, sitting on the little loveseat in his room. Sam comes back in a t-shirt and unzipped jeans and bare feet, his hair barely wet at the ends, and he frowns at first at the empty bed before he sees Dean, sitting, and Dean says, "Took you long enough," and Sam says, "Don't start."

He's not nervous. He lets Dean kiss him slow, though, laying together on the bed, and with Dean's hand in his jeans, and he's hard all the way and wet at the tip and a tight grip locked on Dean's hip before Dean finally slides his jeans down, feels. Damp, and a little soft, and small, and he rolls his hips back against Dean's thumb, making this deep sound in his chest. "How do you want it?" Dean says, and Sam shrugs and then laughs, shaking his head. "However," Sam says, honest, and Dean rolls his eyes and kisses him and then pulls his jeans all the way off while Sam pulls his shirt over his head, and Dean gets him on his knees, then, pulls his hips back, and applies his mouth to Sam's asshole, and that's not entirely new but Sam yelps, flinching, and Dean has to hook an arm around his hips and hold him in place to lick in deep, like he wants to.

"Tell me," Dean says, and Sam groans. He's reaching past Dean's arm, fisting his dick. His balls warm and heavy, and his body—open, yeah, from the shower, from prepping himself, from knowing how—from watching Dean do it, from doing it himself, sliding his fingers in and working the muscle soft and learning how it can be good. Sam's hips push back and Dean breathes out hot, ducks his head down, suckles one of Sam's nuts and then licks back up over the flattened-wet hair and the crinkle of his hole and scrapes his teeth over one asscheek, and Sam's hand reaches back and grips his shoulder and Sam says, deep, "Are you going to fuck me, or what," and Dean slides up, kisses between Sam's shoulderblades, presses his dick swelling up in his boxers against Sam's ass.

It'd be easier if he kept Sam on his knees. He turns him over instead, and Sam's—god, hot for it, his dick huge and curving up to his navel, his chest flushed in that deep way it gets when he's nearly ready to come, his eyes heavy. He props himself up on his elbows and watches Dean lube himself up, and when Dean slots a slick thumb inside Sam—still tight, christ—Sam's eyelids dip but he just pulls his knee higher, and reaches down and feels Dean's dick, fingers slipping over the head. He gathers his balls up out of the way while Dean pushes up between his legs, and he's watching down between them, avid, for the moment it happens. Dean watches Sam's face instead, and on the push inside—Sam's lips part, and his jaw loosens, and his breath stills, and his eyes—Dean pulls back an inch, slides in deeper, and Sam's face tips up and he meets Dean's stare, dragging in air, gripping Dean's thigh, arching. Dean gets a hand on Sam's jaw and holds him there, their noses brushing, and he feels it, the moment Sam's body ripples. How Sam lets him in.

Sam doesn't come from being fucked. Not that Dean expected him to. Dean holds his balls and kisses his jaw, his mouth, lets Sam bite his lips, while Sam jerks his own dick, and when Sam finally spills he groans, his thighs twitching around Dean's hips and his asshole rippling. Dean slides his hand up, following Sam's, squeezing and getting the wet over his own fingers, and finally his dick slides free from Sam's body. Sam says, low and surprised against his ear, ah, and Dean loves him, is all, and always has, and always will, and now is, really, no different.

"So," Dean says, much later. His head on Sam's shoulder, and Sam's fingers in his hair. "What's it like?"

He'd watched Sam clean up. His nose wrinkling as he wiped between his legs. Sam had said, "You like this?" and Dean had said, "The proof is in the pudding," and Sam had stared at him and then said, horrified, "Never talk again." He'd gone and got them both beers as repayment, and now those are gone, and they've cooled off but the bed's still kind of gross and smells like sweat and jizz and, honestly, Dean's about as comfortable as he ever is.

Sam's fingers go still in his hair. "Huh," he says, after a few seconds' thinking.

"Told you," Dean says.

Sam pulls, what little he can pull, at the top of Dean's head where he should really trim it up. "I'll think of something," he says, and Dean says, "Sure you will, Wordsworth," and Sam says, "I don't know why I thought this would make you less annoying," and Dean says, "It's a gift," but he's smiling, tipped in against Sam's side, and he can't see it but he'd bet that Sam is, too, or at least that Sam's got that dimple tucked into his cheek. Sam's hand spreads, cupping the back of Dean's head, and his mouth brushes Dean's temple. Yeah, Dean decides, warm. Dimple. Maybe two.

On Saturday, Sam goes for the run. His route's pretty simple. Looping west away from the bunker and back for thirteen miles; looping east and back for the other thirteen. The point two gets sorted out somewhere in there, as Dean understands it. He offered, a few months back, to pace Sam in the car if he wanted, and Sam looked surprised but then shook his head. "I'll be fine," he said, and Dean knows it's true. Still, he set out water at few-mile intervals—no one's out here, so unless a rabbit stole one of the stashes Sam should get the benefit—and Sam's pace is pretty damn consistent, so Dean knows when he'll hit the various markers, and knows when he'll be home, when it's done.

Sam stretches easily, on the stairs by the entrance. "If you twist your ankle a mile out, call me, but give me time to laugh," Dean says. Sam rolls his eyes, dropping his one foot and pulling up the other. "Do you want me to grab a pistol? Starting gun, or whatever?"

Sam shakes his head, and pulls out his phone. "See you in a few hours," he says, and presses a button, and takes off, and Dean watches him go, down the driveway, to the gate, and then turning and running from the morning sun. Nine a.m. Dean checks his watch, and says, "Okay," to no one, and goes back inside to at least do something with the morning.

An hour and fifty minutes later, Dean's leaning on the gate, drinking a beer, when Sam comes running back up the road. "Woo!" Dean calls, sort of sarcastic and sort of not, and Sam's breathing hard when he comes up but he steals the beer right out of Dean's hand, takes a few deep swallows. "Hey!" Dean says, and Sam shakes his head, burps abruptly, says, "Thanks for the water," and takes off again, and Dean checks his watch—right on time. Maybe faster. He finishes the beer, tasting Sam's salt on the rim, and then goes and sets up his minimal surprise.

He disassembled the bench those weeks back. Too heavy to move any other way. While Sam's completing the second half, Dean moves the pieces out of the side of the plant where he'd moved them, and puts the thing back together. Big concrete supports; concrete slab, that he about gets a hernia hauling back up into place. He's sweating, when it's done, but it's right at the end of the drive, just in front of his three-stone marker.

It's where he's sitting, forty minutes after noon, with a bottle of the whiskey Sam actually likes on the step, and two glasses waiting to be filled, and the sun coming down soft and easy, not yet hot or humid, not like it'll be later this summer. He stretches out his legs, propped on his arms, and watches down the lane while Sam comes around the corner again. Sweaty, tired, but keeping pace, and Dean doesn't mock or call out or say any of the dumbass shit he could say. Sam pulls out his phone, as he's running down, and Dean knows because he paced it exactly how many steps are left, exactly how far Sam has to go. Sam slows, as he's approaching the marker, and when his sneaker hits the stone he presses something on the phone and it beeps and he says, "Done," and takes a huge deep breath, panting.

He tips his head back on his shoulders, eyes closed. Dean watches him. His heaving chest, the sweat darkening his hair to black at the temples. His body.

"You set up a cheering section," Sam says, finally. "I'm touched."

Dimpling. Dean cracks the bottle, pours two glasses. "What can I say," he says, while Sam tips his head back down, tired. "I'm a fan."

"Sure you are," Sam says, tired. He sits down, finally, and takes his glass from Dean. Their shoulders together, and Sam's knee tipped against his. "Whiskey's probably the opposite of what you're supposed to have after a marathon."

"Well, good thing I'm not a stickler for the marathon rules," Dean says, holding his glass up to toast.

"Yeah," Sam says, smiling, "it is," and lets their glasses clink. They drink, quiet, looking out together at the warm day.

#ffcc #wincest #switching #my writing #trying a slightly different style here #idk if it worked but #it was an interesting experiment #i hope it satisfies

[extemely-thoughtful-person]

50 followers special theory!!! (Prepare for a brain rot!!!)

Even MORE Chapter 6 Predictions: the Olympus Tech Company, RSA vs NRC details, and mini theory regarding the release date.

Now, your probably all getting impatient about Chapter six's release date. The events are something to look forward to, but it just doesn't answer what happens next in the main story line. But because of impatience, I would like to say something: it could be worse.

Seriously, I was (and still am) a fan of RWBY, and let me tell you. Their yearly hiatus is pure torture. Their release dates are in late October to early November, with their volumes ending anywhere around the end of February to early April. This leaves a time span of anywhere from 8 to 10 months between each volume. And the writing for that show isn't even close to as good as Twisted Wonderland's.

So I'm taking a second to appreciate not just the quality, but the speed of the writing and development of each chapter. Along with the effort that goes into each event, repair and update. Your doing great TWST crew! Keep up the good work!💕♥️

So, with that said, let's get to a few issues I've been thinking about for a while now.

The Olympus Tech Company

What We Know So Far

The Olympus Tech Company is one of the best tech companies in Twisted Wonderland. They sponsored the VDC voting system, and are a pretty big deal in the world. Upon receiving an invitation for an internship from the company, we learn from Ortho's reaction that getting something like this is a huge deal. It's probably a very rare occurrence for the company to undertake interns.

Idia got the intern easley enough, most likely due to his skill, and not social status. But, instead of accepting the invitation, he tossed it in the trash. Along with the rest of his invitations to work for other smaller companies.

Many people have been asking the very fair questions: Why would you throw away a great opportunity like that? What kind of past events would lead a person to toss away something that thousands of people would jump at the chance to do?

These kinds of questions are good, but this is the questions I've been asking: Did Idia make the right choice by throwing a valuable invite in the trash? Will his choice come back to bite him in the rear later on?

The reason why I ask these kinds of questions is because we don't know anything else about the Olympus Tech Company (OTC). For all we know they could premote enslavement there. (They obviously don't, but we don't really know that)

So because we know so little about the company, I decided to consult the next most accurate source besides the game, the Hercules movie. More specifically, mount Olympus, and it's residents. And I gotta say, some of the stuff I found at the beginning of the film was more than enough to make an educated guess as to what kind of company the OTC is really like.

And it's not as good as the universe makes it out to be.

My Research and Opinions regarding Olympus

Before I formally begin, allow me to cast some light on a very important factor that will change your whole output on the movie. Remember the first song that's preformed by the Muses, the Gospel truth right? This song is preformed throughout the film in smaller parts, but the whole concept of the song is very disturbing if you think about it like this. Although the title Gospel refers to the type of music used in the song, it is also a reference to something else: the perspective of the whole story. Gospel means "good message" or " good word" but it is also referred to as "the word of God".

And in this case, the word of the gods of Olympus. Or even Zeus himself. But do you realize what that means? This story is told from the perspective of the Olympians. But what about any input from a neutral party? Or even a question or two from Hades himself about the situation from his point of view?

Nope. It's just the Olympian's perspective. That's probably why Hades is depicted with more monstrous features, because they saw him as the villain.

Keep this Gospel detail in mind, because it comes in as a very important factor later on.

Now, where to begin?

The Titans

From what I could gather the titans are the primal monsters of this whole movie. They're mindless powerhouses that walk the face of the earth until Zeus comes along and traps them under the ocean. The only way to free them is to wait for the planets in the solar system to align perfectly, which in turn should cut a path through the waters and, with the help of a god, free them.

And right off the bat, there are several things that I'm questioning. Like, If Zeus put them down there in the first place, then what's to stop him from doing it again? Why is Hercules the only one who can beat the titans in round two? And despite the almighty power of the Olympian counsel, how did dozens, if not hundreds of gods lose to the titans when Zeus defeated them by himself in the first place? And how in Hade's name did Hercules beat them all? And he's lesser than all the gods at this point! How?! HOW?!??!!!

Besides that, there's not to much else to say about them. But they could be important...

Olympus

Okay, there's a lot of things I've noticed about Olympus itself. Btw, I'm not talking about the gods of Olympus, just the place itself.

Firstly, everything is made of clouds. If something gets destroyed, then it automatically repairs itself. But I think that the cloud structures of the buildings isn't just a callback to the heavens, but it reminds me of a place that seems unreal. Like, something like this isn't supposed to exist. "It's too good to be true" kinda place. It looks like a paradise, like a perfect place to live, like a place everyone would want to live.

Which brings me to my next observation: the gates to Olympus are closed. I feel like this detail is more important than you may realize. It could mean that only the gods and goddesses are allowed up here, it could mean that you need to earn your ticket there as well. One things for sure, not just anyone can waltz up there like they own the place, there's a certain type of person that's allowed up here. If you don't fit the status quo, then you aren't welcome.

Besides the gates being closed, anyone who can go over or are authorized can and do go in. But don't expect to get there without a ticket.

The gods

This is where things get dark.

The gods and goddesses of Olympus are very chill up close the first time we see them. They seem like nice people, just hanging out in heaven enjoying a paradise. They got invited to a party to celebrate a reasonable event that anyone should enjoy. Nothing seems to be wrong about this, right?

Well, when Hades enters the picture for the first time the atmosphere gets dark. It's because it's a very rare occurrence for the god of the underworld to be in Paradise. Even the other gods are wary of his presence. But Zeus did invite him because they're brothers, right? Family inviting family for a nice reunion? Hades is just being ungrateful, he's killing the mood and it's his fault, right?

No. It isn't Hades fault for anything. Mostly.

Remember what I said about the Gospel truth? How the story it told from the prospective of the Olympians? This is where that prospective comes into play.

Hades is just terrible from the olympian point of view. Is he actually bad though? No. I think that Hades is better than all the gods on Olympus combined. And the interactions tell us a lot, and give us information to back this up.

For one Hades says that most of what the gods actually do is just...well... nothing. They just hang out on Olympus partying and enacted what they call "divine justice" on the mortals. They just cash royalty sacrifices from their temples on earth, get human worship, and laze around while they do next to nothing. We even see this later in the movie.

Hades on the other hand has the full time job of ruling the underworld, which I might add is a huge responsibility. You gotta make sure that the dead come to the underworld, make sure they get the proper judgement, and you need to make sure they don't try to escape into the living world. This job takes up most of Hade's time, but like I mentioned in a previous post about Ignihyde being about adapting, Hades manages to make the job doable by only one person keeping the underworld in order. But even with the shortcuts involved, it's still a pretty hard job.

And get this, Zeus gave...no forced this job on to Hades. The poor guy didn't even get a say in the matter. He didn't get to choose, but instead a cosmic rando of a brother just walked up to him and said " Hey, bro! Imma gonna give you a job away from home that's gonna be a bit tough, but don't worry! All you gotta do is keep an entire realm that is just as big if not bigger than Olympus under control. Make sure the dead don't come up to the surface to start a zombie apocalypse! Okay? Okay! Love ya! Thanks!"

And Zeus doesn't even bother to help Hades in anyway. So basically, while the gods just sit on cloud cushions doing next to nothing, Hades is down in the underworld doing an important, thankless job just because his younger brother gave him that responsibility without his input.

I did say Olympus was full of nice people, I never said they were good.

And what Zeus did to Hades? It's disgusting because Hades did nothing to deserve this treatment. And wanna know something else? Inviting Hades to a party on Olympus is just a huge insult rather than a nice reunion. Because Zeus is basically saying, " Hey bro! Welcome back to the paradise we practically kicked you out of! It's such a nice party we're having, reminding you of everything your missing out on! Isn't my son adorable? It's so nice that he was born into a place like this, and loved by everyone just because his father is the king. Btw, no one finds your jokes funny because, if we're being honest, you don't really belong here!" And Zeus even has the audacity to tell Hades to stay longer. Wanna know why he does that? It's because if Zeus just told Hades to leave then it would make Zeus look bad, telling his own brother to go. In reality, it would be nicer to Hades to just tell him he's not wanted than making yourself look better by keeping him in a place that's out of his league.

So I'm asking the question, is Hades right to try and take Olympus?

In many cases, yes. However the way he goes about it isn't that great. But honestly, I don't blame him for wanting to tear his deadbeat family apart.

Another question that I ask myself: If Hades was allowed to stay in and rule Olympus, would he do a better job?

Actually, yes. I believe he would, because even though Hades would enjoy himself up there, he has a productive personality. He managed to make running the underworld easier for himself, so it would be cake for Hades to be in charge of Olympus. Not only that, but he could do so much better because he would not just find ways to cut corners with quality work, his presence would make things farer for everyone else.

Remember what I said earlier about the status quo? That only the gods are allowed on Olympus? Hades may be a god, but it's made clear from his first appearance and the Olympian's reactions that he doesn't fit the status quo. Monsters, and other creatures don't fit the mold either, and are gazed upon as, well, monsters. But, if Hades was in charge, then I'm willing to bet he would try and find a use for the cast outs. After all, in the underworld, he has Cerberus guarding the dead, Pain and Panic working as minions carrying out smaller jobs for the god, and the Fates, who are informants giving Hades accurate information. All of the characters above don't fit the status quo, and yet, Hades still relies on them to lend a hand and trusts they'll do their jobs. (They don't always, but at least they try.)

If I'm being honest here, I don't think that Hades isn't worthy of Olympus, I think Olympus isn't worthy of Hades. Because as far as we've seen, none of the gods even come close to doing something as important or as difficult as Hades.

The Olympus Tech Company And what it might be like

So, taken all this information about Olympus, what do we think the OTC is like?

The answer is a garbage company.

Its probably just like any mega corporation that hires underpaid workers who work in poor conditions while the higher-ups do next to nothing, living a life of luxury while certain people below them are working hard to earn a living.

That's the basic gist of the company. They probably don't let anyone move up the ranks unless that person is appealing in some way. Basically if you fit their status quo, then you get a raise, maybe a better position. Who knows? Maybe they steal ideas from their lower employees. They don't actually care about any of them though.

And the stuff they program and produce is probably something like today's corporations would be able to produce. Their company is modern, but not advanced, though they probably think it's advanced compared to lesser companies. The type of technology their company produces is most likely the equivalent to our modern day tablets, phones, and computers. Just stamp a brand on it and OMG you've got the latest tech from the OTC. They probably also care about quantity over quality, meaning that they're willing to sell more of their products rather than products of good condition. Unless you wanna pay more for quality.

What about interns? What sort of treatment do they get?

Idia got an invitation to become an intern during his fourth year, and that's supposed to be a big deal, given how rare they are. But if we're right about the company being garbage, would they show that to interns? Probably not because that could cause a dent in their reputation. As for treatment of the interns, they would get treated well enough, definitely better than the factory workers who have been in the company way longer.

So comparing the OTC to Ignihyde, The OTC would definitely have more respect (which they do not deserve) and Ignihyde would be more advanced (but they're not too big on credit).

Olympus and OTC comparison

What do both places and people have in common?

Both have Lazy higher-ups who take all the credit

Both have a class in the company who don't fit the status quo

While the Olympians do nothing, the OTC's technology refects the higher-ups lazy attitudes

Both the highest don't care about the people below them

Both will use whatever means necessary to secure their reputation, wealthe, and possition

Hades and Idia comparison

Both do important jobs that they had no say in getting ( they didn't ask for this, guys)

Both feel left out, but have gotten used to it overtime

Both are good at finding shortcuts and making good use of resources

Both can change their strategy when the situation calls for it

Both don't fit the status quo

Both disapprove of the normal people ( Idia thinks they're just NPCs while Hades thinks the dead are boring)

Both hate people, and they both probably have bad blood within their families

So basically Idia's reaction if he ever got to see the OTC up close? He'd either nope the heck outa there, or if he ever took the opportunity and made it big in the company, he'd turn it on it's head and completely reform it.

OTC vs Ignihyde

So what kinda conflict is gonna strike between these two very different places?

Well, to start off, I wasn't sure what kind of conflict would strike out between an NRC dorm and an entire company. So, again I looked at Hercules and picked out the first big enemy. So, let's look at the threat at the beginning of the movie, the Titans.

I said they would be important somehow, and at first, I wasn't sure. I tried thinking of something that could fit as a titanic threat. Maybe an unstable invention, a nuclear weapon, or perhaps a powerful discovered Magical artifact? All things considered, no matter what is was, it was going to be imprisoned by the CEO of the Olympus Tech Company for not just safety reasons, but for research purposes. The problem was coming up with what exactly.

And then, the realization hit me with the force of Ares's chariot.

Ortho Shroud is based off of the Titans from the movie.

Yes, yes, I know. Outrageous claim. But there is a lot of evidence to support this Theory.

Firstly, the Titans were seen as huge primal monsters causing endless natural disasters such as hurricanes, volcanoes, and earthquakes. They were left unchecked until Zeus imprisoned them all.

Taking a look at Ortho, we've seen time and time again that he's capable of causing mass destruction as well. His archetype gear fired a powerful beam of magic that destroyed a tree, his star gazer gear is capable of punching through storm clouds (which, btw are huge) tearing up the sports field in the process, and he almost leveled the entire college during the Ghost marriage event. And these are only a handful of times we've seen him ready to use violence and destruction as the solution to the problems at hand. Basically, Idia is good at designing destructive weapons, and Ortho's outfits are perfect examples of this. Not to mention there was more than one Titan and Ortho has several different outfits each one capable of causing a different kind of mass destruction.

The next, and probably the most important tie these two groups have in common is this: lightning.

Zeus imprisoned the Titans with his thunderbolts, and they hold a grudge against him because of it. They don't like lightning.

Well, guess what? Ortho doesn't like lightning either. Now, we don't know exactly why. There a number of different reasons, and here are a few guesses:

Lightning killed the original Ortho

He can malfunction due to a lightning strike

It's a part of the Shroud family curse

He thinks its annoying

We still don't know exactly why, but a distaste for lighting is a definite connection.

And what happened to the Titans? They were imprisoned by Zeus.

And what do you think's gonna happen to Ortho in the next chapter?

Once the OTC finds out the truth about Ortho, and that he's actually a robot, they're gonna want answers. Why is your brother a robot? How did he manage to build something like this? It's just an AI, right?

And when they see how much damage Ortho can cause, the head of the company is going to want him contained. So the base of conflict between dorm and company? It's not just Ortho that's at stake, but the entire dorm. The OTC may be a bigger deal than Ignihyde, but the dorm is probably centuries ahead of any tech company. In a previous post, I listed off a few things I wanted to see as Ignihyde's unique feature. One of the things that I mentioned is a data archive. If the dorm has a library for all their knowledge, which probably contains lots of info for magical technically, then who wouldn't say that could be of some value to the Olympus Tech Company?

I wouldn't be surprised if the OTC took some of it's inspiration from the actual disney company in america because those guys are basically known for taking something, rewriting and rebranding it, then claiming all the credit for whatever they did. It would make perfect sense to have the company based off of the real life company who it's owned by. The whole Hercules movie was written by two people who highlighted disney's flaws of merchandising and branding and threw those into the movie. A subtle but realistic joke about Hercules's popularity and how it's used by the company.

The OTC and their possible ties to RSA

Now, it's not just going to be The Olympus Tech Company vs Ignihyde this chapter, we've still got RSA to worry about. Throwing an entire school towards an entire dorm would be a little unfair, so the rest of NRC would definitely be involved with the annual school vs school Magift tournament.

I've already covered the possibility of RSA cheating for a century in a row. I'm holding on to that theory because if these bozos win without some kinda godly trump card or rule violation and just because they're the perfect players from the perfect hero school, I'm gonna burn that prep academy to the ground, sow the ground with salt, and throw the ashes of the school into a volcano! I'll take great pleasure watching that volcano erupt, destroying the remains of that blasted, stupid institution once and for all!

Alright, you get the point. Making a perfect academy would be the worst thing you can do.

But what if it's not just the Magift tournament? What if they were cheating at the VDC as well?

How could they though? It's decided by a majority vote which is done in real time by the people. How could they tamper with the people's votes?

They messed with the voting system. And the OTC were sponsoring that, right? The Olympus tech company is responsible for NRC losing again. Now, I'm not saying that they convinced more people to vote for RSA, I'm saying they actually messed with the numbers. And since they sponsored the system, all those votes were completely at their mercy. They could've made some invalid, deleted a few, and in the end the results were the same. RSA came out on top.

But do you notice how close the match was? By just one vote. I think that originally, NRC was ahead by a few, so the OTC cut some votes off from the original winners to make it look like it was a close game, but RSA was victorious.

I think Neige's supporters were in on the secret. They knew the game was rigged in their favor, and they knew they would win. Did you really think that they were just reassuring Neige just to make him feel more confident? They were stating the fact. They were definitely in on it.

Now the question: why would the OTC go up against NRC? Why help RSA win?

There are at least two possibilities as to why. But both depends on a certain factor, the character based off of Hercules himself.

Possiblity #1: Vil Schoenheit is also based off of Hercules

Both have a similar pasts (minus the godly background) but both do have a father in a higher possition.

Vil is going up against Idia in the next chapter. The chapter might have an important element of heros and villains. And we may see where Vil tries to play the role of the hero.

So, what does this have to do with the OTC?

The Olympus tech company's reason for cheating would be in this case that they were bribed by RSA. They tampered with the voting for money.

Very dirty of them, but because of corporate greed? Why not?

Possiblity#2: there is a new character who fills the base and the role of Hercules

This one is probably the more likely one, as it would not only give us a chance to meet more RSA students, but also the head CEO of the OTC.

In this case, the CEO would be based off of Zeus, and he would have a son based off of Hercules. The Hercules character would attend RSA, and maybe have a few friends who are based off of Hercules's friends (Random thing where he's gay for Twisted!Megera, but that's just a joke.) Basically, it would follow the equivalence rule about the hero and villain counterparts. After all, Hades went up against Hercules, not Zeus. Having Idia and Twisted!Hercules competing in Magift against each other would make the most sense.

Now this would be where the OTC motive for rigging the voting system come in. Twisted!Zeus is the head of the OTC, and his son attends one of the academies with a representative from that same academy. It would make RSA look bad for losing, the same academy his son attends. Why not push the votes in RSA'a favor to ensure that the students of the academy keep their flawless reputations?

Of course, it's possible for it to be a combination of both possibilities.

And if the OTC is sponsoring the score boards for the Magift tournament, who's to say they won't do the same thing again?

But, there's something they never considered about this year's Magift tournament.

Tipping the scales

RSA students most likely have been taught to work together. This is a good thing for them. They've been taught how to function as a unit, how to help each other through hardships, and to come out victorious together. This is all fine, and I'm willing to bet that the teachers at RSA have taught this lesson to the students as a traditional one. It's always been there. And it's known for this tradition

NRC students have always been asked the question: what do you want? They persue their own goals and dreams, rarely working with others to come out on top. And when they do work together, it's usually on conditions. Crowley's probably been at the college since the start, and has not just taught the students to not rely on anyone but themselves, but also the harsh cruel reality of the world: Happy endings don't just happen on their own. You need to work for them. The students don't rely on each other, and never have.

Both academies's greatest strengths is the others greatest weakness. RSA's weakness is it's students falling apart and being separated. NRC's weakness is the students working together with no motivation, because they aren't used to working with people they hate, it's constant fighting among themselves.

But that system is about to be broken by one person: MC

MC has been teaching the students to work together and establish friendships with each other. Through the NRC students misadventures, MC has been teaching them to overcome hatred and ban together. So now, not only are the NRC students capable of working as strong individuals, but they can now function as a unit as well.

This eliminates the system of strength and weakness because now, RSA has the weakness of not being able to function as individuals. Not all students suffer from this, but most would. But the ability to work with others as well as by yourself would give NRC the advantage in a fair game. But if we count the fact that RSA has the cheats and support, this game was never ment to be fair.

So to sum it all up:

The OTC is a company full of jerks

Ortho is based off of the Titans and needs to be protected at all costs

Ignihyde must protect their entire dorm from the dark crime of plagiarism

The OTC may be helping RSA cheat due to bribery and/or family connections

We can't trust anything sponsored by the OTC

And MC is going to help our bois destroy the competition

Or, again I could be horribly wrong.

Thanks for reading!!! And....

Before i official end the post, I'd like to say two quick things. The first is a mini Theory regarding the release date for Chapter 6. It could either be with the chapters story line time in late May, or the sixth chapter is released on the sixth day of the sixth month, or more specifically, June 6.

Secondly, thank you for 50 followers!!! Even though I don't spend all of my time on tumblr, it's a great comfort to me knowing someone does read what I write ( even though most of it seems outrageous and incredibly farfetched.) You all mean the world to me! Thanks!!!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland theory #i did a thing #twst #ignihyde #Olympus Tech Company #ortho shroud #twisted wonderland idia #rsa we're doomed #rook i swear if you know what's going on but don't tell us i give you a taste of my shoe #vil schoenheit #MC #Crowley #we're doomed #disney twisted wonderland

[ichika27]

Mairimashita! Iruma-kun s2 ep21

Last episode for this season!

It’s strange we’re only getting 21. It feels like an awkward number to end on since many other anime that goes on for 20+ episodes have at least 24-26. Oh well, s3 has been announced so it’s all good I guess.

It's still the Apocalypse (the last day of it) and Iruma is trying to finish all of his homework which seem to be going well. He had a lot to do due to homework being doubled.

Why was homework doubled? It's the consequence of a past action...

It was due to the bet from back at the Walter Park arc! They remembered about it (I kinda forgot about it, honestly, since so many things happened since then).

Grandpa Sullivan is the one to choose the winners and decided it was all of them making them all both the winners and losers of the bet. With this, both the prize and punishments applied - they were treated to an expensive meal but they also have to deal with a ton of homework. Kalego-sensei is pissed he had to pay for everyone’s food but was very happy to tell them that they will be suffering for the rest of the apocalypse.

Iruma worked hard and got through all the homework though.

This Apocalypse Iruma had: gone on vacation with his friends, went on a sleepover at a friend's house, and went on a date... so naturally, this time around he's spending time with family!

He and Grandpa are gonna go buy school supplies. I kinda missed when me and my family did that back in the day. I always found shopping for school supplies fun.

Due to the season's earlier events, Iruma has gotten pretty popular it seems so Grandpa gives him anti-recognition glasses for a disguise. Ain’t the boy cute? I dunno why but with anime characters, glasses actually either add or subtract from how good or bad their appearance is.

Haha this reminds me, there’s this anime called “Castle Town Dandelion” and the MC is a girl who hates standing out and in one episode, her sister gave her glasses that could allegedly do the same thing Iruma’s glasses here could. It doesn’t work like that and everyone just acted as if it does to make her feel better. Akane needed this version lol.

They're headed to Magical Street to go shopping! A new area has been introduced to both us and Iruma.

This is apparently where shops, parks and also teacher's dorms are located. I’m wondering why the teacher’s dorms are here when back in the episodes where Iruma joined the student council, it seems he and the student council members were staying over at school. Why isn’t the dorm for faculty members at school, too then? Weird.

Iruma's Grandpa is pretty popular, too. People crowded around him as soon as they saw him but doesn't recognize Iruma due to the glasses. Makes me wonder why Grandpa didn't wear ones himself lol.

Grandpa Sullivan isn’t just popular as he’s well-liked, too.

First, clothes shopping! Iruma tried on a coat as they need some for the upcoming winter. Grandpa decides these were good and takes an entire rack. Damn they're rich lol. He tells Iruma to just wear a different one everyday.

They're buying accessories next and Opera suggest that Iruma buy a collar for his familiar which is Kalego-sensei lol. Iruma knew it would not end well if he actually did that and declines. Opera is disappointed by this... they really want to mess with Kalego, huh?

I think it’s funny but I also pity Kalego-sensei. Having to deal with his senpai’s antics long after graduating. The nightmare of many former students.

Next they're buying books! God this makes me miss going to book fairs.

Grandpa tells the staff at the desk what books he wanted and each one he lists off automatically flies down next to him (pretty cool). Grandpa explains that Iruma would need a lot of books to learn more spells. They talked about the spell Fractal (which Iruma used to princess carry Ameri last episode) and Grandpa tells him that with enough practice, Iruma could also use it to be able to fly. Grandpa takes this chance to show-off to Iruma by using it to take down a shoplifter. Everyone in the store is amazed but Iruma's praise is the one Grandpa cares about the most.

They continue shopping for stuff. This was funny cause the way Grandpa said the lollipop's name reminded me of how Doraemon introduces the items from his pocket. Also, does this mean that lollipop has no expiration date?

The day ends with the two having a talk (Opera went and got the carriage). Iruma says he had a lot of fun at school which made his Grandpa happy knowing Iruma has gotten used to living here. Grandpa tells him that the new semester would be even more eventful than this one and showed him a poster of what I assume would be the festivals the other fans have been mentioning.

In the middle of their talk, Iruma suddenly asks Grandpa about how to become a Demon King (likely cause he overheard some people wondering aloud why Sullivan, a powerful demon, didn't want to take the job despite being qualified for it).

Grandpa is surprised and speechless for a moment but then becomes happy and says if Iruma is asking cause he wanted to be Demon King then Grandpa will support him. Iruma explains he’s just curious.

Flashback! It seems Grandpa used to work for the former Demon King, Delkiller.

Too bad his face is covered. I’m curious to know what he looked like when he was younger.

Oooh... we finally see him - the infamous Delkiller that's been talked about for a long time. His face isn't completely properly shown for now, I guess but he’s shown to be pretty huge. He seems lazy but he also takes pride in the Demon World he's created. The flashback ends here though.

His hair color reminds me somewhat of Evil Cycle! Iruma’s hair color...

We get a bit of lore info from Grandpa about Demon Kings.

Grandpa explains about the 13 Crowns - representatives of the Demon World who help govern it - and that to become a Demon King, one must possess the trust of every single one since they'd be the one to rule the Demon World.

He also explains the role and power of the Demon King - their word is law and they are the Demon World itself. Demons will do as they commanded. The Demon World is a reflection of whoever ruled it and right now, the Demon World is a fun place because Delkiller-sama was a fun person.

Grandpa explains that with all these in mind, he doesn't know if he'd even get the role someday if he wanted it or if he ever did, if he'd be worthy of it. It’s such a big thing after all.

If he did become the Demon King though, he says he'd do this: make the Demon World "Iruma"-themed lol. Seriously though, he says he'd support Iruma if he'd become the Demon King and would like to see what kind of world Iruma would create.

These statements are very ironic considering who would end up being future Demon King haha.

While Iruma said he didn’t want to become Demon King, he did end up thinking about it. What if he did become the Demon King?

Hmm... for someone who isn’t interested, he looked like he was thinking deeply about it.

They get back home and later that night, Iruma checked the stuff Granpa bought him.

Iruma finally gets a hold of the Demon King Prophecy! We've heard about the prophecy before but Iruma probably hasn't yet until now. After listing the stuff about the future king, there’s a shot of Iruma’s hand with his ring haha. Upon reading this, Iruma thought more about it: What kind of world would it become if he were to become the Demon King?

You’re not the only one wondering Iruma. I’m sure the rest of the fandom is wondering that, too.

The new semester begins! The entire Abnormal class is told that they now have to attain Dalet (4) rank before their second year begins as it's the minimum they'd need to graduate - failure results in them losing the Royal One classroom!

--

Not gonna lie, the shopping part of the episode reminded me of the scenes at the beginning of the firsts Harry Potter movies with them shopping at Diagon Alley. It’s fun and I got to see more of the Demon World. I wonder if they’d show us other places in the Demon World in the next season.

Grandpa happily doting on Iruma made me think that maybe it’d have been better for him if he had gotten to adopt Iruma as a child. Iruma is already a teenager and so their time they could spend together wouldn’t be as long or as often since Iruma had friends and busy with school. On the other hand, Iruma gained a lot of experiences in his crappy life before getting here and it did help him become the person he is. I guess the problem here is that he’s human and he probably ages faster than everyone else. :P

Like I mentioned before, it feels weird we only got 21 episodes this time. I was hoping there’d be another arc before the end of the season. There’s already a season 3 announcement and for next year, I think, so its all good. It might feel like a long time but I thought the same back when season 1 ended and now the finale for season 2 had just aired. Time flies fast.

I just wanna point out that in the last scene at the classroom when they were being told about the rank raising they gotta do, Agares is shown with his eyes visible. I’m glad they never put that mask back to cover his face cause he looks good haha. Glad they kept this detail.

Well, thank you for reading this and the other posts, too if you did. I guess we’d have to wait for season 3 now. I’m glad this show is popular enough to gain another season so fast. :)

#Mairimashita! Iruma-kun #welcome to demon school iruma-kun #sana_post

[tae-cup]

Gouache on Calculators by Kim Taehyung | Calcu-LATER (1)

Pairing: Art Major!Kim Taehyung x Math Major!Reader, Jimin x reader-ish

Summary:  Math never fails you. The numbers might not always make sense, but you know there must be a solution. Everything fits together like a perfect puzzle, like your tidy life and solitary living…until Kim Taehyung spills paint all over your notebook. He, quite literally, trips into your life.

Genre: College AU, Fluff, Angst, Angst with happy ending, Light Topics, humor

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Uh, it’s not this dark i swear,  slight Internalized homophobia, Drinking, Cheating, uh uh uh it’s going to be a ride.

Word Count: 2.7k Words

A/N: Ah! I’m so excited to present this absolute mess of a story! Let me know your thoughts and if you’d like to be added to the taglist! Also also also, this chapter is short, but I promise the next one is a little over twice this length!

Other: 

Series List

Masterlist

Previous (teaser) | Next 

       Mr. Erich was a slow talker. You could almost understand why Jimin was falling asleep next to you. Almost. Jimin wasn’t someone you really considered a close friend, but then again, you didn’t have many close friends. 

      The teacher continued droning on about number theory. You placed your head down on the desk, but your hand continued writing your notes. Staying up late last night wasn’t the best idea, but you needed to write an essay on Anaxagoras, a greek philosopher. 

     You hated philosophy. But you loved your mother and your mother had urged you to take a class that didn’t only involve numbers. 

     Jimin was snoring peacefully and you glanced over at him. It wasn’t exactly your issue so you looked away and went back to following the lesson. A few minutes later, he jerked awake and groaned audibly.

      A few people in the seats around looked at him quizzically. You shrunk lower in your seat. You didn’t want to attend class, too many people and it made your heart race, but you needed to pass this class and so you, sadly, must attend.

        Many knew Jimin as the son and heir to BigHit, the large business conglomerate that had wealth that made even the 1% drool, but to you he was just that guy who fell asleep in Calculus and cheated off your notes. Objectively, this was annoying. Subjectively…

     You felt him staring out of the corner of your eye. He was looking pointedly at your notes. Subjectively, you didn’t care enough. If he didn’t pay attention in class, that was his problem and you didn’t feel one way or another. At the bottom of your notes, you wrote, Pay attention. 

He wrote that down too without a second thought. 

   You were busy. You were always busy. In fact, you had an extremely important Algebra assignment to do and you knew you could get it done as long as no one bothered you-

“Oh my god.” 

    A man with blonde hair and a light blue beret stood in front of you. In his hands was a tray of spilled over paints; paints that were now on you. You tilted your head. 

“Can you move?” You spoke up after a while. 

“I’m so sorry!” He seemed unfrozen and hurried after you as you brushed by. 

“Uh, can you go away?” 

“I know you’re probably really mad! Do you want money or something? I can buy you new clothes or-wait that sounds weird.” 

“Clothes?” You glanced down and then realized the state of your wardrobe. 

    You were splattered with red, green, and yellow paint. You then glanced at your notebooks, also, helpfully, coated in a thin layer of paint. More importantly, your beautiful TI-84 calculator was ruined. 

     You opened your mouth, furiously holding up your calculator, but the man continued rambling on. Annoying. But somewhat entertaining, you supposed. 

“You got paint on my-” 

“Let me take you out! Somewhere nice? I’ll buy you a coffee!” He tore off some notebook paper and scribbled some numbers down. You paused. What was he doing? 

“Besides, it’s not paint, it’s Gouache.” He announced proudly, shoving the paper into your already full arms. 

“But that- you still got-”

“Taehyung!” Jimin called from behind you. You turned and the man winced. “Oh, Taehyungie has never been too neat, sorry about him. Anyway, we gotta go, Tae. Yoongi just called and Jungkook set fire to the carpet again.” 

“He really needs to change his major to something a little less dangerous.” 

“What is this, the third time?”

“I don’t know, but we need to go, Tae-”

“What’s his major?” You questioned.

“Philosophy.” They both said in unison. 

“Anyway gotta go!” Taehyung grabbed Jimin’s hand and started speed walking away. 

“You got paint on my calcu-”

“Later!” Jimin shouted over his shoulder, his eyes lingered on you for a moment.

    Did you have something on your face? You swiped at your cheek and he grinned, turning back around and following Taehyung.

    Once they were out of sight, you juggled your notebooks around until you could successfully pick up the paper. 278-367-5433 ;). You scoffed at the numbers, something you did often, and crumpled it up. 

“Art majors. What a waste of trees” You muttered and trudged back to your dorm. 

 “I’m so stuck on this problem, Y/N, you’ve gotta help me.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you’re my friend?”

“I’m not your friend, Jimin.” You moved the phone to your other shoulder and continued working. 

“But-”

“Bye.” 

      You hung up and groaned, massaging your temple. Your room could be seen as lonely. Plain white paint sat on dull gray walls. There wasn’t a speck of trash or clothing littered on the floor. You lived an orderly life. Tidy. Your eyes strayed to your hamper. 

      Your clothes from earlier were spilling out of the top. A splash of color on a black and white canvas. You scrunched your nose and looked away in disgust. You had never understood the point of art. What did anyone ever see in it? It was meaningless. You looked back to your notes. 

      These numbers meant something. They meant the height of a ladder leaning against a building, the measurements of a bridge, and where Mary Jane would end up in 400 minutes if she’s going five miles an hour on a circular road. It was pretty deep. 

      You looked at your watch. Then you moved your attention to the window. Your dorm overlooked the sprawling center of campus. The place was a concrete playground, but with the extensive arts program, it was always covered in colorful murals and art pieces. 

       You didn’t have a roommate and you liked it that way. You had always preferred to be alone. Others called you anti-social, but, to put it another way, if there was an apocalypse and it was just you and another person alive in the entire world, you would probably leave them for dead. Life was simpler alone. 

       Besides, you wouldn’t have to deal with people chastising you about not picking up on “social cues” or whatever the hell those were. How were you supposed to know that when someone leans in real close, they want to kiss you? It seemed quite arbitrary in your mind. 

      Your phone was buzzing again. 

“What do you want?” 

“Please Y/N! This. Is. Really. Hard.” 

“Jimin, figure it out. How are you going to pass midterms if you can’t understand algebra?” 

“Ouch.”

“I mean that in the most sincere way.” You relented. 

“You’re so mean, Y/N.”

   Your eyebrows rose. That certainly wasn’t the first time you’d heard those words. 

“I’m honest. You could go ask the teacher or something.”

“He told me to ask you.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

You heard him let out a dry laugh on the other side and rustling of sheets. 

“You’re really good at math, Y/N.”

“I hate number theory.” You objected. 

“But that doesn’t mean you’re not good at it!” 

“Shut up. I’m going to hang up now.” 

“Wait no-”

Beep. 

     People were annoying. That’s what you had decided. You weren’t trying to stick out like a sore thumb, but getting in the flow of other people and understanding all the shit they wanted you to understand was hard. 

     You put your pencil back down onto the page and continued writing. You reached for your calculator, groaning when you realized the paint had covered the display. 

“Great. Just great.” 

      You set the calculator aside, feeling a little sentimental. After all, you’d had that thing since seventh grade. Your phone buzzed again. Jimin jesus chr-

“Yes?” You picked up. 

“What is this So ka toe ah everyone is telling me about.”

“How did you pass trig without sohcahtoa?” 

“Tell me!” 

“Ask Taehyung.”

“Taehyung is an art major and hasn’t had to be proficient in math since the fifth grade!” 

“Sin, cosine, tan. Bye.” 

Beep. 

     You massaged the crease between your eyebrows and your attention got caught by the darkened campus. The gross fluorescent campus lights lit up the concrete. Freshmen were running wild, happy with their newfound freedom, and seniors were leaving for clubs or parties. The lights in the dorm buildings across campus began turning on one by one. 

     You searched your pockets for the crumpled paper. When you didn’t find any, you made your way to your hamper and dug around the pockets of your paint smothered clothing. 

“Aha.” You unfolded the paper and dialed the number. You didn’t feel like talking, but Jimin was driving you up the wall. 

“Taehyung, right?” You said as he picked up. 

“Yeah? Changed your mind?”

“No. I’m going to make this short and sweet, tell Jimin to stop calling me for math help. Thanks.” You hung up and went back to your work. 

     So, technically, you were done with work, but being done with work meant that you were free and if you were free, that meant you had no excuse not to go out. And you needed an excuse to avoid people. You opened up your textbook and frowned at the various graphs and equations. You had already done all of them for fun this summer. 

“Hey, Y/N, a bunch of us in the dorm are going out, wanna come?” The hall monitor knocked on your door. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing your job?” You looked back with a confused expression. 

“Charming as ever I see.” She chuckled. 

“Come on, Jasmine, Y/N never wants to go out anyway.” Another girl shouted. 

“I know! I just wanted to be nice!” Jasmine shouted out, as if you weren’t right there. 

“What would be nice is if you left.” You said, your voice monotone and matter of fact. 

“Alright then. If you need anything, just text or call.”

“You won’t pick up anyway.” You whispered under your breath, but Jasmine was already gone. 

 “You forgot that this has to be positive, Jimin.” You leaned over him like an overbearing mother. 

“But that doesn’t make sense!”

“You’re dividing two negatives. They cancel out.” You explained, a frown twisting onto your face. 

       There was a long silence as you watched him scribble down the new numbers. The library was relatively quiet. The giggles of a group in the corner would pierce the peaceful ambience every now and then, but the librarian would always shush them and they’d die down. 

     Jimin cleared his throat, pulling your attention back to this study session. You moved across the table and sat at your seat again. You just sat and stared at him. He was intriguing. He made silly mistakes that he should honestly understand for being a junior in college. His eyes flicked up to you three times and back to his paper. 

“Well, this is awkward.” He said after a while. 

“Is it?” You shrugged and continued staring him in the eye. He shifted awkwardly and looked away. 

“Why are you staring at me?” He whispered. 

“Oh, do you want me to stop?” 

His mouth opened and closed then he looked back at his paper, his ears turning red. 

“Are you coming on to me?” He murmured. 

“What? No, why would I do that?” You said, disgusted, and returned to your work. 

       To be clear, you weren’t disgusted with him, but you were disgusted at the idea that you would come onto him. After all, you were just here for math and Jimin was just here because he needed help studying, obviously. He looked like you had just slapped him. You honestly didn’t see an issue. 

“You know, my parents are pretty traditional and they want me to bring a girl home this holiday season. You’re the only girl I’m really close friends with.” He began. You felt his eyes on you and you looked up. 

“Uh, alright? That sounds like a problem. Who are you going to take then?”

“You’re really dense, aren’t you?”

“I’m not dense.” You defended. “You need to expand your friend group.” 

“I was wondering if you could come along?”

“What?” Your furrowed your eyebrows. “Absolutely not.”

“It wouldn’t be anything romantic, just-” 

    A man with mint green hair and a slim build walked past and Jimin’s eyes followed him. You followed his line of sight. 

“....We can just go as friends, you know?” 

You nodded solemnly. “Just friends, Jimin.”

“You’ll go?”

“Only if you promise me it’s just friends because I really don’t want to have to deal with romance.” You huffed, picking up your pencil and jotting down numbers. “You already have my number, just send me the details.”

“Thank you!” 

      The librarian shot him a glare and he lowered his voice. 

“You’re a real lifesaver.” He whispered. 

“I know.” You narrowed your eyes and then began to pack up your things. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do. Bye.” 

“What, but we just-” 

“Yeah I know, but I’m sort of sick of talking to people and I helped you with your work so I’ve got to go work on Philosophy.” 

“Philosophy? I didn’t take you as a philosophy person.”

“Me neither.”

     Aha! You knew you recognized Taehyung from somewhere. You ran your finger over the screen. The list of student names in your philosophy class was displayed. 

“Kim Taehyung. [email protected].” You murmured 

“Whatcha doing?” Jasmine leaned against your doorway. 

“Just...research.” You explained lamely. 

“I see.” The hall monitor came inside and sat on your bed. “You never go out, Y/N. I’m worried about you.” 

“Okay, and?” You glanced at her as she sat cross legged on the bed. Great. She’s wrinkling the sheets. 

“Well, as a friend-”

“We’re not friends.”

“-and hall monitor, I command that you go out this weekend. Do something with your college life. I think you might regret not doing anything fun later on.” She prodded softly. 

“This is fun.” You gestured to the scattered math homework pages across the desk. 

“Right… well, just keep it in mind.” She stood and moved to your door. 

“Jasmine?”

“Yeah?” She paused, turning to look at you. You read over your philosophy work and then your essay.

“You ever think that there are so many people in your life, but no one is really a part of it?”

“You’ve got to stop with the philosophy, Y/N. It feels weird coming from you.” She laughed.

       You didn’t find anything funny in that. She looked awkwardly from you to the door, expecting you to chuckle along, but you remained silent, blinking at her. She shivered and left without another word. 

      The second she was gone, you stood abruptly and smoothed out the bed sheets, but as you did that, more wrinkles appeared on the other side. You felt the anxiety pouring out of you and you rushed to smooth down the other side, but more and more wrinkles kept appearing like disgusting bugs that wouldn’t die. You let out a frustrated sigh and tore all the sheets off your bed. 

       You took the ruler off your desk and measured out the width and height, then calculated how much extra cloth is needed on both sides for it to be perfectly centered. Then you marked it off and remade the bed. You felt yourself calming as order was restored. 

    You thought back to Jasmine’s words. Go out? Absolutely not. Then you looked at the crumpled paper on your desk. 

“Fine, Jasmine.” You pursed your lips and dialed the number once more. 

“Y-ello?” Taehyung’s voice rumbled through the speaker. 

“I want a coffee, but I’d prefer to go somewhere quiet.”

“Straight to the point I see.”

“Polite niceties take up too much time. When are you available?” “Whenever you are, love.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright. Uh…” There was a long pause and you heard rustling in the background. “Sorry just grabbing a piece of paper.”

“Why are you apologizing? There’s nothing to apologize for.” You said quickly, eager to get this conversation over with. 

“I’m free this Saturday?” 

“Works for me.” You said. You didn’t need to check your calendar to know you had nothing to do. 

“Great see you then.” He said stiffly.

“Yup.”

“Uh...bye?”

“Alright.” 

Beep. 

      Now it was time to overthink the arrangement until Saturday.

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#heartsforbts #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #castlebangtan #bangtanuniversity #bts x reader #bts #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jimin x yoongi #yoonmin #fluff #angst #calcu-later #v #teen #college au

[haruhey]

🤔 💭 and this is not a question but I gotta say, I love your writing, hope you are doing great!

hey sgtapepper !! i’m really glad you enjoy my writing and, besides the fact school will start up for me in a few weeks, i’m doing great :)

as for your questions:

🤔 What is the hardest part of writing fic?

everything !! the hardest part about writing a fanfic is honestly writing all the parts, ufeel me?

the way i go about my writing process is i basically film a little movie in my head, full of camera angles and all that other good stuff, then i try my best to transcribe everything which you guys then read. the hardest part really is just the writing part which sucks because that’s literally the only thing you need to do to write fanfic.

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

hmm i don’t really know how to reply to this question to be honest. i feel like the way i write doesn’t really give much room for headcanons since i use so many hyphens to ‘talk to the audience’ essentially and give some expository throughout the fanfic. though, maybe i could use this to explain my blueprints for how i model the whole storyline and experiences of the ‘you’ character?

‘you’

in the early fics, met during the prison (recruited by him or by glenn), but now i favour the meeting setting being the greene farm (you got stumbled across during his search for sophia)

has been with groups before meeting team family but none have stuck

was still relatively naïve about stuff about the apocalypse (esp on the more physical/violent side) before meeting daryl and then voluntarily approached him to learn about stuff, making him confused because ‘why tf is this person talking to me??’

not much younger than daryl, 1-7 years probably just because i’m personally not that big of a fan between huge age gaps. i don’t have a problem with them, especially if both characters get together when they have similar life experiences (i don’t mind connie x daryl because, though their age gap is probably a decade, connie is ~35-40 and daryl is ~50), but i have a problem when it’s morally reprehensible like *coughbethylcough*

after the prison, met up again sometime before terminus or during terminus (there’s some leeway there - maybe you were with rick, michonne and carl, stumbled across them after the claimers confrontation by yourself, maybe you were with maggie - whatever drives the plot forward). because beth had such an impact on him, i wouldn’t want to erase that from his character

went to grady, but went with rick for the hostage stuff

after getting to alexandria, was probably assigned to work at the infirmary, but after carol recognizes pete’s abuse, you opt for runs instead until he gets murked

as for daryl

bestie can juggle !! nothing as advanced as knives or anything, but he can do three apples and maybe four beanbags if you let him practice a bit beforehand

naturally doesn’t need a lot of sleep, but also takes a really short nap at least once a week

tries to give himself stitches/hides wounds he thinks he can take care of himself so he doesn’t use resources or have to confess to you how he got them

didn’t have a cell, instead took one of the admin rooms in the prison (like where guards would stand to watch over prisoners and click clack away on computers)

probably was religious at one point (only to the extent of going to church on sunday), but fell out of religion really really young

was good at school but because of his brother’s reputation and bad home life, he was never given the resources to actually end up pursuing anything academically and probably has a sort of inferiority complex if the topic of undergrad comes up

he can draw !! picked up the skill when he was a kid but hid it because merle thought it was lame or would give him shit for it. still does it, too - on pieces of scrap paper, in the dirt if he goes out to hunt and feels bored - and if he’s pining really hard and can spare the resources (which he usually can’t), he’ll draw them

stick and pokes his own tattoos (that BBH skull hello??)

doesn’t shower much because of childhood trauma (dunked into cold water, not being able to breathe as one of his parents washes his hair because they kept his head dunked in) and even as an adult, he’s shower adversed because he has to touch his scars

doesn’t take off his shoes in his house which !! take off your shoes !! you’re in the house !! outdoor shoes don’t belong on indoor floors !!

lives alone in a smaller house since nobody wanted to room with him, carol lives with tobin, you and tara already had a deal, and a bunch of people died when he was redirecting the heard so there were a bunch of houses that were vacant

also lives in the basement because he enjoys the shade and the coolness in the mornings when he wakes up

rips off his own sleeves (but only has a few of them) and gives his sleeves to carol

i also enjoy the bisexual daryl headcanon !!

#haruanswers