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genericpuff · 2 months

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Scamlords is at it again.

A few nights ago, there was a sudden blow-up in the /r/webtoons server showing a new announcement from Snailords -

For anyone unaware, Death : Rescheduled has been on mid-season hiatus since October. And it's now, and only now, that Snailords has suddenly decided the comic is ending after it returns, but readers can get an extra 20 episodes... if they fork over $1k in merch sales.

Now, this could be a lot worse. They could be threatening not to return to the series at all unless their readers hand over money. But considering it's practically just one degree away from that, it's still pretty nasty. Not to mention, the further they divulged in their reasoning around this "idea", the more confusing it got.

They also even revived their @snailordsrant account on IG which, for those of you who were there and can recall, was the same account they used to put one of their own fans on blast over some very mild criticism.

None of this makes any actual sense, for several reasons:

1.) I literally fail to see how getting $1k in less than 24 hours is worth shoving in an extra mini arc of 10 episodes if you don't even have it planned out. Why do that to your audience or to yourself? Why drag things out just to scrounge up an emergency $1k? Why not just be honest with your audience and run a GoFundMe or just say , "Hey everyone, I've run into some financial troubles, I would really appreciate it if you could FastPass my newest episodes or donate to my Patreon or buy some merch so I can cover the costs". It's really telling that this shithead doesn't have enough confidence in themselves or their audience that practically worships them that they have to resort to this kind of underhanded shit to get the money they need. I wanna make it clear that this is NOT like a Kickstarter stretch goal or anything that incentivizes readers to support their work, they're instead holding the length and future of their series over their audiences' head (which they've done before) for money. That's not an incentive, it's an ultimatum.

2.) Maybe I'm misreading / being stupid (someone pls explain if I'm missing something here) but I literally don't see how their comment about working 50 hours a week explains why they're suddenly getting their fans to pay out $1k worth of merch in less than 24 hours. For anyone who doesn't know, $1k per episode is an example Webtoons uses in its post discussing how they pay out creators (this came after the platform got called out 2 years ago for paying creators too little, there are undoubtedly creators getting paid less). And yet for some reason $1k is apparently the difference between 10 episodes and 20? How does that add up? And is the bit about them wanting to buy boba supposed to be a joke? Where's the punchline here?

3.) They say they have writer's block and they want to use the money to "motivate them", but then just a few slides later they say 10-15 episodes is what would make them the "happiest" so which is it? Do they want to write 10 episodes or do they want people to pay them to write 20 episodes so they can draw the fluff scenes that they apparently want to draw? If you have an ending planned out, why rush it or drag it out depending on how this "fundraiser" goes? Why not just write the ending you want to write that will serve your story best? Why shove in an extra mini arc that you don't even have full confidence in writing and then try to compare it to a "super expensive cake"? What are you doing? Speaking as someone who's had trouble getting motivated in the past, suddenly getting a month's rent worth of money to do it doesn't necessarily solve that, it just turns up the pressure, and if you're not someone who deals with pressure well, then you're more likely to wind up just burning out entirely rather than fulfilling that goal.

4.) The fact that they did, in fact, hit their goal just makes it all the shittier to think about because their audience is mostly made up of teenagers who worship the ground that they walk on. It's horrifying that they keep pulling these stunts with their audience, and getting away with it to boot - and Webtoons, as a company, keeps enabling it by allowing it to happen by hosting and promoting people like this.

Anyways, there's already a lot going on here that's sketchy, but then... they went and deleted their posts. At the time of this happening (as I was there to witness it all play out in real time) I assumed this meant that they had hit their $1k goal - especially as they had been showing their progress on their IG and they were already at $900 after just a couple hours - but it gave me a sinking feeling seeing them delete it because they had also been called out by some brave readers telling them that it wasn't exactly a good look to essentially blackmail their audience through their own content into giving them money.

Snailords deleting it gave me a stronger impression of "burying the evidence", especially now that they had the money. By all accounts, they could do whatever they wanted now.

So what did they decide to do?

. . . Huh?

Okay, take a second to actually think about what Snailords has done here. Because I know some of you will go "oh, it was for charity all along! that was nice of them!" but . . . I don't know about the legalities of collecting donation funds under false pretenses, but morally speaking, it's a really shitty thing to do. They stripped away the choices - limiting them to three - of what their readers could donate to, and what I think their readers don't understand - due to being mostly teenagers - is that they're tax-exempt individuals and they just unknowingly gave Snailords an easy $1k tax write-off. You really, really shouldn't collect donation funds like this without being honest, it's just a shitty thing to do, especially after you've already collected the money. It mostly just comes across as damage control on Snailords' part to make it seem like they were always planning to donate to charity, when in reality, if they wanted to donate to charity, they would have been honest about that at the start. Again, even if they wanted to do that from the start, it goes to show how little confidence they have in themselves or their audience that they have to stoop to methods like these instead of just doing it honestly.

And do you really think Snailords will actually do those extra episodes? Or donate that money? This is the same asshole who has manipulated their readers for money not once but twice, and now seems intent on doing it a third time just for the charm. This is the same person who practically sabotaged their own comic, Freaking Romance, because they apparently didn't like the romance genre and may as well have only done it for clout / views / etc.

What was especially odd - and I found this out from folks who actually read Death : Rescheduled (I do not) - was finding out that it wouldn't make sense for D : R to end in as many as 25 episodes, because apparently, the plot has basically just gotten going.

So it does seem like this is foreshadowing that D : R will wind up just like Freaking Romance, rushed into an ending that wasn't expected. And this, of course, has the people who read their work confused because D : R was supposed to be Snailords' passion project, their magnum opus, the project they wanted to do. So them holding the timing of an ending that shouldn't even be happening yet for ransom contradicts that original intention. Really, it just goes to show that Snailords has no passion, they're just in it purely for the money, to a degree that I can't even cheer them on for being a hustler because it's missing the honesty and integrity.

And of course, every single time Snailords finds a way to backpedal and take his audience for a ride, they hop right in without a single thought for themselves.

And no, none of this is to hate on the readers directly, I hold Snailords entirely responsible for this - they have an audience of impressionable, naive, gullible teenagers, and they know it, and take advantage of it every chance they get. It's why they weren't just honest about wanting to collect money for charity from the start. It's why they resorted to basically holding their own comic's progression for ransom during its midseason hiatus. It's why the deadline was 24 hours and why the posts are now gone.

Thankfully the Internet does what it does - any evidence that Snailords was trying to bury is now all over reddit, and hey, just for good measure, here's a post on Tumblr that's been sitting in my drafts for days now, days after people have already seemingly stopped talking about it. Don't let anyone bury or forget about the stunts Snailords is pulling on their audience, with a platform that they've been consistently given by Webtoons, because that's what they want you to do.

#snailords #webtoon critical

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shina913 · 1 year

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On Tilt, Part 1 | KNJ

On Tilt, Part 1 Definition: a poker term for a state of mental or emotional confusion or frustration in which a player adopts a suboptimal strategy, usually resulting in the player becoming overly aggressive.

On Tilt Masterlist

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: idol!AU; angst; fluff; smut

Warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamic; cussing; explicit sexual conversations; dirty talk; clit play; heavy petting; oral sex (F-receiving); intercourse; orgasm denial; fingering; masturbation (mutual); exhibitionism; stamina!; multiple orgasms; pining; unrequited love; miscommunication

Word count: 4.5K words

Summary: You’ve said time and time again that you wouldn’t lose yourself to him. You were in control now. You were going to make better choices. For a minute there, you were able to keep up with it. It wasn’t ‘til Namjoon’s extended break that you found yourself falling into old habits. Will you ever learn to quit Kim Namjoon?

A/N: First off—boop! Title change! This was going to be called something else but decided to switch it up last-minute. I've had this sitting in my WIPs for a while. So long that ago that this was was actually drafted before the first hiatus announcement in June. This is the first time I am writing an idol!AU (please be kind)! I’m not sure how many chapters this will be yet…could be two, could be three. For now, please enjoy and let me know what you think! Now, excuse me while I get side-eyed by my WIPs.

You are jolted awake by your phone blaring loudly. What time was it? It was still dark out.

“Hello?” You croaked out drowsily–your eyelids fighting to stay closed.

“Hey.” You’d recognize that rich baritone anywhere.

“Uh…hi.” Your eyes flickered, pulling the phone away from your ear to figure out what time it was. Too early.

“Remember that dark blue strappy dress that you had?”

“W-what?” You responded after a beat once your brain lurched forward. “Where are you?”

“Los Angeles. Just chillin’ at the hotel,” he rasped. “Were you sleeping?”

“I was,” you answer dryly.

He chuckled into the phone. “You never used to need that much sleep.”

“Well…I’ve changed. And you have, too,” you point out while rubbing your eye, mid-yawn. “We’ve already had this discussion.”

“I know, I know,” he relents, effectively dropping that subject. You fall silent on the other line. A few beats later, he asks, “Are you alone?”

You scoffed. “Namjoon, who else would I be with?”

He laughed from deep within his chest and it tickled your ear. “So–can we keep talking about that dress?”

After rolling your eyes, you try to wrack your brain for any memories of whichever dress he was referring to. You owned so many over the years. “I don’t know…I’m kind of drawing a blank–”

“Whenever I pushed one strap off, the other would fall, too.”

As soon as he said it, that certainly narrowed it down. You zero-in on the dress and the memories came rushing back, hitting you like a tidal wave. You hummed at the nostalgia. The dress used to be one of your favorites–and clearly, it was his too.

“Now I remember.” It was a navy-blue, silky, cowl-neckline dress with spaghetti straps. It had an asymmetrical hemline–the longest falling right above your ankle but it had a pretty high slit that went up your thigh. If you picked your feet up too high while climbing some stairs, people would get an eyeful. Luckily, back then, you and Namjoon always took elevators. Except that one time when you both snuck into the emergency exit where you had a little private moment by the stairs.

You blink the memory away. “That was a nice dress,” you say leisurely, trying to fight off the drowsiness. Maybe he wasn’t even thinking about that scandalous-looking slit…or that night by the steps.

“And I also remember that it had that sexy slit that went all the way up your left thigh…” he drawled. “That came in handy that one time by the steps? You know, the emergency exit?”

Fuck. He could read minds now, too? You were wide awake now. “Uh huh…” you drew out while your eyebrows furrowed. What was he up to?

“Mmm…you had great legs.”

You sat up on your bed. “‘Have’.”

“Sorry, say that again?”

“I have great legs. Present tense,” you corrected.

He gave another deep, throaty laugh. “I will not object to that. I love your legs. I love having them wrapped around my neck—like that time I came home to you after that show?”

Your mouth went dry. That was the night he made you cum so hard that you bit him so deep on his shoulder that you drew blood.

“Joon…” you rasped.

******

“So, did either of you do anything fun last night,” Lani asked while she perused the brunch menu. You’re not sure why since she ordered the same thing every time.

“Happy hour with a couple of coworkers. We went to a bar that had an indoor bocce ball court. I’d never been but it was pretty chill. Also, everyone should try playing drunk bocce ball,” Jia giggled.

“What about you, YN?”

“Oh, you know—not much. I had a quiet night, after work; turned in early and then…had- accidental-phone-sex-with-Namjoon,” you say in rapid-fire succession.

“Sorry, w-what?” Jia chokes out as her eyes bulged out of their sockets. But before she gets another word out the server stops at your table to take your order.

After they walk away, Jia picks up on your last comment. “Now hold on a second–you can’t just drop ‘Namjoon’ and ‘phone sex’ in the same sentence and expect us to just take it in stride!”

“I didn’t know that you and Namjoon were into phone sex,” Lani says, waggling her eyebrows teasingly as she turned in her seat to face you.

“We weren’t. But their break is coming up and he’s been calling me for the past couple weeks–”

Jia sighed and admonished you. “YN, you shouldn’t be having phone sex with your ex.”

“Okay well, let me correct that–it was technically not phone sex but more of a…a trip down memory lane,” you clarified. “Also, he’s not my ex. We never really defined—whatever this is. So, how can you be ‘ex-whatever’ if you never really ‘were’ in the first place?”

“Fucking without labels. I like it!” Lani winked at you.

“What-everrr,” Jia says, annoyed. “He’s in and out of the country. When he’s here, he’s usually in the studio. You guys barely see each other but as soon as he calls, you come running.”

“Excuse me but I do not come running, Jia,” you argued.

“You just come,” Lani snorted.

You give Lani a deadpan look before turning to Jia again. “For real, though. I think that I’ve actually gotten better with this whole Namjoon business! Would it kill you to give me a little credit?”

Jia softens her expression at you. “Sorry, YN. It’s just that I really care about you and…when he left for that one tour then went straight back into recording the new album without seeing you–I saw how much it tore you apart." She reaches across the table to rest her on yours. "There are other guys out there. Other guys who can be present…who can love you and argue with you, in person. None of this complicated idol-bullshit.”

You tried. You really did. You put yourself out there, met other people…none of them lasted. Namjoon was always there for you. And you were there for him. You were familiar with each other. Neither of you needed a manual to navigate each other.

With Namjoon, it was just like stepping into that navy-blue dress. Easy, comfortable…and you always felt sexy.

It was just too much work dating–trying to get to know someone new and getting used to them. You had grown too impatient for that.

Or maybe you just had to admit that you didn’t want to find someone new…because all you really wanted was him.

******

After playing the last night of the band’s stadium tour, Namjoon picks you up from your place so you could head on over to another hotel, only to switch cars, to drive off to another hotel. It was like a shell game. He needed to play it safe because he never knew who’d be watching or following him. It all came with the territory.

It was just before midnight. You paused before sliding into the backseat next to him. “I’ll need you to take me back home tonight.”

Namjoon cocked his head to the side, looking slightly disappointed. “You won’t stay the night with me?”

You paused, leaning on the open car door–fully intent on standing your ground.

“I’d really like you to stay,” he added with a flash of his dimple.

The truth was, you really wanted to. And once, back in the day, you would drop whatever you were doing whenever he was back in town for his visits until you ended up resenting him for it. You may not have learned to stay away from him, but you’d picked up a thing or two about having a healthier relationship–more for your sanity. “Look, let’s just keep things simple, okay?”

His chest lifted and fell on a deep breath. “As you wish.” With that, you climbed into the backseat of the SUV with him, shutting the passenger door.

“Can I schedule time for you to spend with me?” He asks softly.

You sat so close to each other, thighs and elbows pressed together…but there was an unspoken distance between you. Even though you enforced it, you still wished it didn’t have to be there.

“When?” You ask him with a hint of exasperation.

“I was hoping for one more night this week and all of next weekend for sure.” They were on an extended break. The other guys would disperse and travel back to their own hometowns after a publicly-announced hiatus by the record label. He’s decided to spend the next three weeks in your area.

You nodded then glanced sideways out the window. He vaguely mentions that it was another 10 minute drive to the next hotel–giving you time to think about how the rest of tonight could go. More sex? More Namjoon? You craved both–more than you’d like to admit…and it would’ve been much nicer without so many doubts and reservations.

You missed how carefree you both used to be. When you first met, there was no sense of time or what day it was. You’d go whenever and wherever you pleased. His schedule was packed but he always, always made time for you.

Sometimes, he’d go as far as clear out a whole place for both of you. Once or twice, he paid to access some museums after-hours. You’d stare at sculptures and paintings. He’d wax poetic about each piece while you hung on to every word he said. Afterwards, he’d take you back to the dorms and fuck you into the morning.

And then…the schedules just got more complicated. International attention heightened. Next thing you knew, he was on planes more often than he was on your bed.

“Listen,” he began, “You should know this is hard for me, too.”

“At least you have a clue about what’s going on,” you argued softly, turning away from him to look out the window while the car zoomed past your quiet neighborhood and into the city.

The announcement of the extended break was a surprise to you but he’d vaguely hinted at it several times during one of your clandestine meetings. What he hasn’t disclosed were his plans during this break.

Namjoon turned in his seat and reached for you, catching you by the nape and pulling you in. You closed your eyes, anticipating the moment when his parted lips would touch yours. His tongue caressed the curve of your mouth…the feeling had you leaning closer for more.

“Can we worry about the rest on a different day? I just want tonight to be about…us.”

Us.

Even though you went months without seeing or talking to each other, he always spoke of you collectively–never individually…never apart.

You nodded and gave him a small smile. The subtle gesture lit a flame. You stared at each other in the dark–only catching flickers of your features as you passed the staggered illumination of dim street lamps and tunnel lights. You saw him moisten his lips with his tongue and in a matter of seconds–the flame had escalated into a raging fire.

“Always so sweet,” he murmurs while you feel his finger brush the shell of your ear. The darkness combined with his deep, silky voice sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m going to spread you across my bed and lick you from head to toe.”

You hummed. “You’re good at that.” You were needy in an instant.

He pulled back, as if to look away, then surged forward again, catching your lips in a heated, hungry kiss. His mouth devoured yours, his tongue stroking, exploring. You were just as greedy for him, your hand sliding into his hair, seizing the roots while you had your fill of him. He cupped your breast in his hand, massaging it, his thumb and forefinger capturing your aching nipple and tugging rhythmically. You moaned, turned on to the point of no return.

“Fuck, YN,” he groaned, releasing you and falling back against the seat. “I want you. Right here. Now.”

Truth be told, you were incredibly tempted to demand that he raise the partition so you could climb him right then.

“Tell your man to drive faster,” you said in a rush as you pressed your thighs together–as if that would stop your juices from flowing.

He threw his head back, his laugh booming through his chest. Moments later, he turned his head, leaning against the headrest to look at you. “Fine. But when we get to bed, I’m taking it real slow.”

******

And boy, did he take it really slow..

“Namjooooon,” you dragged out. Fisting at the sheets, your body arched off the mattress, lifting yourself greedily to the torture of his mouth. You’d almost forgotten what he could do to you, how he could penetrate your skin to get into the very heart of you.

He held you pinned at the thighs, his mouth on your throbbing center, his tongue licking leisurely. The slow rhythmic strokes over your clit had you gasping. The need for an orgasm was so fierce, you were drenched in sweat, legs practically burning from the strain while he held you wide open.

“My god, your tongue…” you whined.

“Yeah? Did you miss it while I was gone?” He gives your sopping core a quick flick of his tongue.

“Ahhh! Yes…Oh my god, yes,” you groaned.

He slowly pushed two fingers into you, making you gasp softly. After a few slow pumps, he paused to turn his wrist so his palm was facing upwards. His thumb was now circling around your clit while his two other fingers, still buried in you, curled and stroked at the bundle of sensitive nerves.

The sensation made your whole body clench tightly–it won’t be long now before you’d start to fall apart.

“Yeah? Did you touch yourself?”

“Yes,” you distractedly admitted. Your mind, clearly elsewhere while he dangled you over the precipice of your climax.

And then you felt empty. Having withdrawn his hand, you saw him sitting up, gazing down at you. “Show me?”

“Show you what?” You asked, trying to regain focus.

“Show me how you touch yourself.”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’ve seen me touch myself.” You referred to previous nights when you’d call each other over video while he was away. “Now come on, please,” you begged. “Make me cum,” you almost whine.

“No, I want to see it in person,” he says.

“But you’re right here, how come I need to do it?” you argued. Any longer and you’d lose your lady-boner and call it a night.

“I’ll do it with you,” he answers. With a flash of his dimple, he sat back on his heels, dropping his hand to fist his cock.

Your eyebrows quirk, suddenly intrigued. You’d never touched yourself while he was in the same room with you. You shifted restlessly, your attention fixed on his long, nimble fingers.

“Come on,” he coaxes you while he stroked himself, squeezing right when he reached the tip, bringing a flush to his face.

Your core began to ache at the sight. Your fingers move of their own volition, sliding between your legs to rub your aching bud.

“Fuck, this looks so much hotter in person.” He was watching you closely, his gaze was hot and hungry. His tongue slid slowly along his lips, as if he was tasting you. When his teeth caught the fullest curve of his lower lip, you could have sworn you felt it.

You knew that look well. And you knew what came after it.

******

He thrusted hard, sinking deep in one lunge, wrenching a cry from you as you fell hard into orgasm. Neck arched and eyes squeezed shut, you laid on the bed as the pleasure pulsed through you, your core tightening around his cock as he kept his rhythmic ministrations.

He groaned, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets and pumping himself into you. The climax grew once more, spurred by the steady lunges of his hips...the feel of his cock fucking into you relentlessly.

You writhed helplessly, lost to him, desperately hanging on to the part of your soul that wanted to surrender. You gripped at the back of his broad shoulders tightly, your nails leaving marks and scratches at his repeated assault on you.

Namjoon’s lips were in your ear, his breath hot and needy as he growled after every thrust.

You felt the muscles flex as his body worked to give you another orgasm. You’d lost count after the second one.

His teeth sank into your earlobe, groaning in pleasure while his abdomen contracted against your stomach, his sweat and yours mixing together.

“You won’t believe how much I thought about you this whole time,” he gasped.

So he has thought about you. In what way? Thought about fucking you? Or thought about you just because? As much as you wanted to unpack that, you brush the thought aside. Right now, he was dicking you down real good–and that needed 100% of your attention.

“So g-good.” You swallowed past a dry throat.

He drove the point home with every thrust, fucking you so thoroughly you couldn’t think beyond the need to cum again.

Your body was not your own as he had come to fully possess your whole being.

Namjoon was the only one who could do this to you...make you mindless...drive you crazy. When you were in bed with him, you were his. Ready and willing to do whatever he wanted, to take whatever he chose to give you, knowing he would make you orgasm over and over...

You whined, feeling his grip tighten on you, every muscle on his body gathering as his own climax brewed.

You realized then that he was hanging onto you as desperately as you were to him, you felt that urgency in every breath, every touch.

Your eyes stung with tears when your orgasm hit, sucking the air out of your lungs, causing spots in your eyes. A long, drawn out moan escaped from your mouth–a mix of pleasure and relief.

“Ah, baby.” He kissed you, absorbing the sound, slowing until he was just circling his hips, feeling every hard inch of him inside you. “I love that sound you make when you cum. It tells me how good I make you feel…how much you love me touching you…being inside you…”

How much you loved being serviced by him. How much you loved—

He rips the thoughts away from you when he takes your mouth, kissing you deeply. His hips circled again, making you feel every inch of him. The slow, purposeful stroking over your nerves kept you hot and on-edge.

“I missed you so much, YN,” he whispered into the kiss. “Did you miss me, too?” He asks in a soft, almost pleading tone.

When you didn’t reply, he brushed the sweat-slicked hair strands away from your face and searched for the answer in your eyes.

You stared back at him wordlessly, your jaw slackened while your core rippled along his length. His eyes clenched shut and his lips parted, his body tightening along with yours. “No, no. Not yet. I don’t want to cum yet.”

“Please..come on, Joon….” You were begging and didn’t care. You just wanted him to come. You wanted it more than your next breath.

“No. I’m not rushing this.” He reached behind him to grab your wrist, bringing your right arm up and over your head. His other hand pushed beneath your bottom, lifting you into a smooth, easy thrust. “Hmm...so good. So perfect for me. Always.”

You wanted to tease him with your own little naughty comeback, to play the game just as he was, but you couldn’t think of anything. You were at a loss for words.

“Stop thinking and just feel it…feel me,” he murmured, nibbling on the corner of your mouth, dragging his lips across your jawline. “Let me make you feel good, baby. That’s all I want. To make you feel good.”

Turning your head, you caught his lower lip with your teeth and let him.

******

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His thumb brushed the corner of your brow and drifted down to your cheek, tucking stray strands behind your ear.

Your lips twisted wryly while you laid in bed, cocooned in him. You glanced up at him. “How sexy you are. It’s embarrassing how often I think about that. I need to get over it already.”

He cupped the back of your thigh and urged you tighter against him, teasing you with an expert roll of his hips. It was sickening how much he knew his way around your body. “As if I’d allow you to do that.”

You scoffed, pushing off him slightly. “Huh. ‘Allow me?’ A little cocky there, aren't we?” Deep down, heat slid through your bloodstream…your body becoming way too greedy for him.

“Don’t tell me you don’t prefer a fan who’s more starry-eyed and would easily drop their panties for you, Mr. Kim.”

He ignored your jab. “What I want,” he purred, cupping your jaw and rubbing your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, “...Is you being too busy thinking about me to think about anyone else.”

You pulled in a slow and shaky breath. You were completely captivated by the smoldering look in his eyes, his sexy-as-hell voice, his body, and the mouthwatering scent of his skin. He was your drug, and there were no signs of you kicking the habit.

“Namjoon,” you breathed, completely entranced.

With a soft groan, he sealed his mouth over yours, stealing away thoughts of what time it was with a lush, deep kiss…a kiss that almost succeeded in distracting you from seeing the slightest hint of insecurity he’d just revealed.

You pushed your fingers into his hair to hold him still and kissed him back, your tongue sliding along his.

His arms banded around you and tightened possessively. “I want to spend the weekend with you down by the coast—naked.”

He had a little known vacation property by the beach. There were suspicions from gossip sites but nobody could ever confirm. He had taken you there a few times. It had its own private beach access and was remote enough so nobody would randomly come snooping.

You giggled. “Sounds like every guy’s wet dream.” As big of a kick as you got out of Namjoon in a bespoke suit, you much preferred him stripped down.

“Is that all we’re going to do?” You wondered. “You want me laying there, all ready and splayed for you?”

He let out a deep, sexy chuckle. “We could go on a hike. Maybe swim? Watch the stars. We’ll have some food to eat…and then I’ll eat you out,” He traced vague shapes on your hip bone with his pointer finger, making you squirm.

“Haven’t you had your fill?” You ask him.

“Of you?” He laughed. “Can you fit the ocean into a cup?”

You scrunch your face in confusion. He was always good with his metaphors, which flowed easily into his lyrics.

“You and your damn hyperboles.” You remarked with a laugh.

“I don’t exaggerate. It’s just a fact,” he answers frankly. For a moment, your head floats up into the clouds again. You feel a light, warm fluttering within your chest.

“So–would you be okay with that plan? You, me–alone in a beach house…clothing completely optional?”

With a sigh, you acquiesced.

******

Lani eyed you as you slid onto a bar stool at her breakfast nook the next morning. She knew when she saw your makeup-free state, which betrayed the shower you’d taken just a half hour before. She quietly poured you a cup of coffee, sliding it towards you. She opens the fridge and puts the creamer next to you.

“I forgot how much I like Namjoon,” she said casually as she looked out her kitchen window, watching his black car with heavily tinted windows drive off.

You nodded while stirring in the creamer in your coffee. You liked Namjoon, too. Thing was, in his line of work, the way the band was just starting to hit their stride globally–it made things…painfully uncertain.

“You two gonna work it out or what?”

“I don’t know,” you say vaguely, taking a long sip of your coffee…as if it held the answers to all of your questions about him. “At least this time, I know the rules.”

“Okay so maybe I don’t like him so much anymore.” Lani poured herself another cup and took a sip and sighed. “I always had a feeling that he was in love with you,” she says unceremoniously.

“He’s in lust,” You countered dryly. “And…whatever, I can live with that. It’s the other stuff—the way he talks to me sometimes, as if there’s more. I keep running all of these scenarios in my head, about why he keeps coming back to me—that part is hard for me to deal with. It’s kind of a mind-fuck.”

“You know that I know some people who can knock some sense into him,” she deadpans as she peered at you above her coffee mug.

You smiled. “I think it would be better if those people knocked some sense into me instead.”

“We can do that, too. It’ll be like a two-for-one deal.” She tapped her mug against yours. “But you’ve got plenty of sense. You know what you’re doing. You just wished you weren’t doing it,” she chuckled. “And he obviously doesn’t have a clue or else he wouldn’t risk letting you get away. He’ll never find anyone better, you know. Someone who knows him inside and out.”

You snorted at her. “Don’t get all sappy on me now, Leilani. I might have to kick your ass.” She laughed at the way you invoked her full name. You were only half-joking. In reality, you felt emotional and…attached. Sex with Namjoon did that.

“Fine, if you want to skip the sappy shit, let’s just eat. Get off your ass and help me make breakfast.”

With a groan, you slid off the bar stool. You weren’t much for cooking–more about eating. “Damn. Can we get back to being sappy instead?”

Before you round the counter to head into the kitchen, your phone pings. It was a text from Namjoon, saying that he just got a last-minute individual schedule and that next weekend might be up in the air.

You scoffed after you read it, and practically flung your phone against the counter, where it lands with a heavy clack, startling Lani. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” you answer instantaneously, swallowing your irritation, hoping it would pass.

Did you really expect anything less? The company liked to keep them busy even with scheduled breaks. Just because he wasn’t traveling, did you actually think you’d get some quality time with him? It was easier said than done.

Lani stands there eyeing you suspiciously. But before she picks up on your sudden contemplative vibe, you distract her.

“What do you need help with? Do you want me to cut up stuff? Mix? Beat anything?”

She laughs and goes on asking you to take some scallions and eggs out of the fridge to make pajeon.

“Did you want anything else in it? Ham? Kimchi?” She asks you.

You sighed. “I’m cool with whatever,” you say, noncommittally.

She tells you to chop up the scallions, showing you the right way to position your fingers and hold the knife. You mimic her actions thinking that it wasn’t that difficult to learn.

Now, if only Namjoon were just as easy to figure out.

Next◥ | Main Fic Masterlist

Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @deepseavibez @itdoesntmatterwhy @yu-justme

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boyfhee · 1 year

Text

DISTANT MEMORY · pjs

synopsis · jay seems like a stranger, you wish you were dreaming ( ~ 1k )

genre · angst :/

notes · for my lovely @homelycat bff again. btw im still on hiatus i just wanted to drop this promised jay angst, i hope u all read this suffer a lot

silence fills your kitchen, a wisp emerges from your coffee and vanishes into thin air. your fingers tip press a little harder around your cup; there's something wrong with jay today.

you notice the way he hasn't looked at you since you've sat at the table for breakfast, you've been noticing for a while; his actions— antics, watching him do things he usually doesn't, making decisions he generally wouldn't, say things he doesn't mean otherwise. you've been noticing for over a month, and it feels that the jay you knew has simply became a distant memory. the more you think about it, the further it drifts away, morphing into ancient history.

sometimes, you think you're dreaming.

"jake asked if we're down for movies this saturday, with everyone else," you break the silence, but your eyes are fixed on the ceramic plate in front of you. "told him we have other plans for the day, you know, my highschool reunion, since you're supposed to join me,"

"i see," he nods, and those words mark the end of your small talk. frankly, you miss the days none of you would shut up, no matter what time of the day it was. it doesn't matter now, not really, jay talks about whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and other times, it's just silence communicating with itself. "are you done shopping for the reunion?"

just like now.

for some reason, the empty plate in front of you seems more tempting than the question he asked. you remember winning the whole crockery set at a couple game around two years ago, or three, maybe. you're not sure, the timeline is getting blurry inside your mind. you leave his question unattended like the coffee in your cup, to see if he cares about a response.

a second passes, then another, one more, jay grabs the newspaper kept on the further right corner of the kitchen counter. it's as if the question doesn't mean anything— your response doesn't mean anything, perhaps, would be a better conclusion. you hope you're dreaming, because the jay sitting in front of you doesn't seem like the person you fell in love with.

"you know, i think we shouldn't attend the reunion either," you give in either way, putting your plate aside, leaning on the counter with a forced smile in an attempt to make yourself feel better.

and jay looks up. "oh," but, he's looking somewhere else. your hair, shoulder, the paining behind you, anywhere, but your eyes. there's a certain look in his eyes, grief, guilt— remorse, and you want to ask him, what is it that turned you into someone so unfamiliar?

his eyes shift back to the newspaper. "suit yourself. i have a few other stuff scheduled for that day, either way,"

you wonder if he cares, you realise he doesn't.

and you can't take it anymore.

actually, there's a question you've been wearing on the tip of your tongue for days now, finding the right moment to ask him. it would be a lie if you said life didn't give you any opportunities, you just weren't able to bring yourself ask it. you aren't brave when it comes to such things, never were, never would be, talking about love scares you. you never know how the conversation would turn out. there are too many risks.

falling for him was the first one you took, confronting him would be probably be the last one with him.

"i think you don't love me anymore,"

a pause; you notice the hesitation laced in his expression, it doesn't faze you anymore.

jay nods faintly. his eyes don't leave the sight of the empty cup in front of him, as if it's staring back at him. his lips press into a thin line as the unsaid words intoxicate the silence spinning in the air. he sighs; the empty cup reminds him of something, of himself, his heart,

and so, jay finally musters up the courage to look into your eyes. "i know, i've noticed."

#—approved.#kflixnet #k-labels #enhypen jay #jay scenarios #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #jay imagines #jay fluff #jay x reader #enhypen jay imagines #jayhours #enhypen x reader #jay park #jay fic #enhypen fic

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polaroidbills · 10 months

Text

something great.

"i want you here with me. like how i pictured it. so i don't have to keep imagining."

genre! - angsty, fluff too, mega slice of life

paring! -non-idol!beomgyu x fem!reader

synopsis! - these days, love is always glorified in movies and books. but it's not always like that. sometimes it can be amazing and instant. other times, love can be damaging and complicated. but is it ever too much to ask for something great? - inspired by something great by one direction -

warnings! - not proof read, kiss (kinda), teeny tiny swearing (lmk if i missed anything)

word count! - 1 572

author's note! - first little imagine after my hiatus!! this is literally me rn (minus the dream part). he literally has a bird too and he doesn't play basketball but hockey. anyway hope you enjoyed!

i've always been into romantic-comedies. whether it's books, movies, or shows. they're my favourite. they allow me to get away from reality and slip into my imaginary world. a world so great, filled with love and joy. it's like an over powered hide and seek spot.

but sometimes i get fooled. sometimes the love shown through these films and novels aren't real. love in reality is never how they are in the movies.

boys don't fly across the world to see you. boys don't put on a musical performance as a way to apologize. boys don't join the drama club just because you did.

i just wished he did.

choi beomgyu is his name. he's been my crush since kindergarten. i'm im grade 8 now. soon i'll be graduating into high school. he doesn't know. he's never known. and i don't plan on letting him know. how could i?

he charming, funny, caring, and so much more. the way he rakes his hands through his hair, the way his laugh is contagious to everyone around him, the way he can always lighten up the mood, the way he isn't only socially successful but academically successful, and the way just his presence is comforting.

my feelings for him never leave. even if i try my best to force them out, even if he's dating someone else, even if we go on summer break. they never leave.

it's now friday, 10 days before graduation. i sit myself next to him because my teacher changed the seating arrangement.

"hey y/n!" his cheerful voices rings through my ears.

"morning beomgyu!" i respond.

"did you do the math homework?"

"i did yeah. you?"

"uh nope," he scratches his head.

we often have these small conversations. just short and casual. just a hi and hello. usually it would end here. i guess not this time.

"haha do you need help with it?" i ask.

"actually yeah. i don't really get it," an embarrassed look plays on his face.

"you know, i could help. i don't really mind."

"really? you would do that?"

"of course, i have nothing else to do anyway."

"okay sure! how about after school? i have to carpool with soobin and yunjin though, if that's okay with you?"

soobin, beomgyu, yunjin, and more of my classmates live on the same street. so they often carpool together.

yunjin is one of my best friends. she's one of the only one's that know about my crush. but ut weirds her out because she has like a sibling relationship with beomgyu.

"sure let me just text my parents!"

"great!"

and just like that i have plans. plans with him. i know it's just studying, but it's something? i mean, i can barely look him in the eye, let alone help him with math.

the school day goes by in a blur. i can't get my mind off of what's happening after school.

its 3:15, 15 minutes before school ends. i go to the bathroom to freshen up a little, bringing my emergency bag. in which holds a hair brush, mascara, blush, bronzer, highlighter, and a lip gloss.

i go back into class, as everyone starts packing their backpacks, getting ready to leave. i too get ready to leave.

3:27, 3 minutes until the bell. we're already lined up waiting.

"hey y/n!" soobin call my name. i walk over to them.

"you're coming with us?" soobin asks.

"yeah, is that okay?"

"for sure we have an extra seat anyway."

"okay cool," i smile.

the bell rings and we walk out into the parking lot.

"hey mom! um y/n is riding with us, is that okay?" soobin asks his mother.

"of course! come on in sweetie!"

beomgyu gets in first onto the far left seat.

"sorry y/n, you're in the middle," beomgyu says, as they already have assigned seats.

"thats fine," i climb into the middle and soobin gets in too, closing the door.

the drive is quiet, with only the low radio playing. but uts a short drive.

i've never been this close to beomgyu. it's quite awkward but also comfortable in a way.

the car halts and we climb out of the car, walking over to beomgyu's house.

"i'm home!" he unlocks the door. and his mom hurries to the door.

"hi y/n! come in, come in," his mom smiles.

as we walk in, i notice the lovely furniture and layout of the home.

"you have a very nice home mrs. choi!"

"thank you! but please call me diana."

"okay mom stop mingling, let's go upstairs," beomgyu interrupts. and we make our way up.

i notice all of the family and chcildhood photos on the walls and tables. cute.

"no funny business!"

beomgyu rolls his eyes and shuts his bedroom door.

"okay so where should we start?" i ask.

"well i couldn't really understand question 1?"

"okay we'll start there," we set down our books on the foors and start studying.

a couple hours later, dinner is called. we walk downstairs to a neatly setted table and the smell of delicious food.

i sit next to beomgyu and diana serves the food.

"thank you! this looks delicious."

"of course! cooked a special dinner for a special day!"

"mom!" beomgyu makes a weird look to his mom.

"oops- anyway, y/n what wer eyou guys studying up there?"

"oh beomgyu needed help on some math."

the dinner goes by really well. i feel like diana and i have a connection, as we were talking the whole time.

we go back upstairs to continue our work.

"hey don't you have a bird?" i ask him.

"yeah, his name is toto."

"can i see him?"

"sure but be careful, he isn't good around new people."

we go into the birds room and there's toto in his cage.

beomgyu slowly takes him out.

"here put your finger out, like this," he demonstrates the movement. and i follow. "toto up!"

toto moves onto my hand carefully.

"woah! toto's never good around new people! he must like you! toto kiss," he point to my cheek as toto places his beak on it.

it's a fun moment. laughter and smiles. this is why i like him.

he puts toto back into his cage and we go to his room.

"hey i'm tired of studying can't we stop now?" beomgyu says after a few more minutes of studying.

"yeah sure what do you wanna do?"

"hmm i don't know? we haven't really talked all lot, i wanna get to know you more."

"oh well what do you wanna know?"

"do you have any hobbies?"

"yeah, i love reading and watching movies and shows i guess?"

"oh cool what kind?"

"mainly rom-coms. what are your hobbies?"

"well i play basketball for one. i also really love music and playjng the guitar."

"oh cool i love music too! who's your favourite artist?"

"i love taylor swift and seventeen."

"me too!"

silence falls between us, but it's not awkward. i make eye contact with him – something i never do. the tension between us is strong and the space between us is small. i can slightly feel his breath on my skin. his eyes travel to my lips and back to my eyes, and the same thing goes for mine. his moves in closer, now the space is really small. i can definitely feel his breath on me. he moves in even closer.

"y/n?"

"yeah?"

"i really really like you, for soo long. i like you y/n."

"y/n! y/n! y/n! wake up! you're gonna be late for school!"

i awaken by the sound and nudging of my brother.

"what?"

"you're gonna be late come on!"

of course it was just a dream. it always is. just my stupid imagination and mind. he would never like me. his way out of my league. why would he even like me? there's so many other girls too.

my mind is occupied with these negative thoughts, untily brother yells once again.

i shake my head to brush the thoughts away and quickly get ready for school, walking straight out the door.

the whole walk to school my head is filled with these thoughts and reminders.

love isn't real. it never was. i was just to delusional and blind to know it. true love is just in the movies and books. those scenarios never exist in real life, only in fictional films and novels, of course. no matter how much i imagine and hope and dream, nothing will change. it's just something i ask and beg for.

but is it ever too much to want someone with me, like in the books and movies, like how i picture a true love is?

when will i be able to stop imagining?

why do i still have to keep imagining?

is it too much to ask for something great?

@1-800-143 please DO NOT copy, plagiarize, or repost any of my work.

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azucar-skull · 13 days

Text

Shedding some light on my situation:

Yesterday, I opened up emergency commissions out of the blue with a very brief explanation on the current crisis at home. As promised, here are some more details on the situation.

Last Thanksgiving, I got disowned by half of my family on my mother's side after I exposed my abusers for what they are. Ever since I got home, it's one thing after another.

Recovery (physically from injuries too), chronic illness diagnosis, Grandpa having a hospital emergency (where I had to clean up his blood), Green Eyed Mask going on hiatus due to stress, finally finishing GEM...then my dad broke the TV.

It was so unlike him to be shouting at my mom for no reason, in my gut, I knew there was a bigger picture.

Dad getting upset, my aunts and uncles coming to visit more often, telling everyone to not say "Happy birthday" to Grandpa because he's too far gone, my abuela bringing out Grandpa's antiques from his time in military.

Last week, I was let out of class early and arrived home to everyone huddled in the kitchen with paperwork. While no one was looking, I saw that the paperwork was for Grandpa's will.

My grandpa is now 88 years old, the youngest sibling in his immediate family. His older brothers and father died at war, his sister and mother of old age. It was a given that this year is his last, he'll be lucky if he makes it to July.

A long anticipated death causes stress on the entire family. I've noticed that my body is out of balance, sobbing at random intervals all day even if I'm feeling fine. It's messing up my sleep, appetite, even my fucking periods which were already a bitch in the first place.

I avoided telling you guys because art is what kept me going. I would hide in my room and draw all day, the rest of the world fading. That's all I do now, hide.

But everyone else in my family is suffering too. My dad broke the TV 2 months ago and home is falling apart by the day. My brother opted to stealing food from the grocery store and living off of chicken tenders and fries from the deli. Mom is never seen, absorbed in her own work as much as I am. The house is a mess, the fridge is empty, bills piling up, riding pay check to paycheck.

It's not that we are poor or losing financial stability (I think), if we were I could turn to my community college for help but I'm not eligible. It's the fact that everyone is so down and busy that we forget the basics like food, long overdue haircuts, doctor appointments, taking care of the dogs, etc.

It's an "every man for themselves" kind of situation. And as a disabled person, I'm unable to work a stable job. So that's why I opened commissions. Money that I can hold of my own should there be a situation like now where I had to buy food the second I got my first order.

But this also means I am going to be more busy taking care of myself and my family. Comic production will be delayed a bit, and I unfortunately can't say for sure if Feral Casey AU will be ready by the end of May.

All I ask is for your support and patience. Reblogging my commission post helps a lot more than you think. And thank you again for everything.

Commission Post

#azucar skull #emergency commissions #explained

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thatsgoodsquishy0 · 2 months

Text

I haven't done one of these in a while. With the flood and various fuckery going on, there's really been no time for Tumblr. I mean, no proper time. No sit down, blog, and write time. But here, I suppose there is. I was asked to share if I had something, so here is something I'm re-working on since my hiatus. A snippet from Chapter 3 of my Young! Ranger Sam Coe x Reader fic --- soon to be renamed.

summary: just a father and son catching up + Sam remembering his momma

tagging: anybody who sees this and hasn't participated yet (since I've seen most already)

Sam pushed the door open, leading with his palm against the wood as he welcomed himself inside. Six years. Nothing new. Dust swirled in the dim-light of the living room. Photographs of happier times sat on shelves caked in thin layers of grime. His mother’s vine plants -- Baby Tears --- cascaded down like spotted green waterfalls from the ceiling into the walls of the dining area.

The trance of memory overwhelmed him. His breathing slowed.

His mother stepped out of the house and his father busied himself in his office, leaving Sam practically home alone. He was about as tall as the counter tops in the kitchen and he liked to grab anything he could, just because he could. Little rebel. He'd grabbed some rocks off a book stand. Played pretend on the floor of his bedroom, when a voice echoed faintly, like the call of a ghost. Sam paid no mind. The voice boomed louder than before.

Sam. Sammy!

His heart leapt. He knew that voice. It traveled from the deck into his room, into his ears, once more. Abandoning his geo-rocks right then and there, he rushed to her. Curiosity and eagerness carried his little legs across the living room as he tumbled outside. The sunlight blinded him immediately, but painted his mother in a golden shadow. Her hand was smooth and warm, like beach sand, as she gently took his own and shared her pride, pointing to the potted plants. He remembers peering up at her. His little eyes wide in awe as she spoke their names. He could hear her now. How the words rolled off perfectly, as if she'd practiced over and over on her way home. Pilea Depressa, she told him. Otherwise known as, Baby Tears, from Old Earth.

As far as Sam was concerned, the planet and the Coe Estate were one in the same. Both lived with color. With life. Once.

Black coffee and eggs permeated his nostrils. Some routines never died. Sam’s nose scrunched as he shut the door.

“Hello?” His voice rang out.

A figure dressed in official’s wear emerged from the kitchen holding a bowl of yellow bits. The man’s eyes were wide, as if he’d been up for hours, expectant. “Sam Coe,” He paused. A sudden chill whipped through the room. “You didn’t knock?”

“I did. No answer.” He traversed towards the table without so much as a glance to the other and settled Cora into her high chair. From out of the corner of his eye, Jacob loomed. Weren’t his eggs getting cold just standing there?

“Keeping your boots on?”

Sam bobbed his head, sternly. “Can’t stay long,” he added, “They’re clean. I ain’t gonna mud up your floors.”

“Rangers more important than having breakfast with your family, huh? Don’t gotta tell me twice.” Jacob disappeared into the kitchen. leaving Sam in an air that was clogged and stuffy. He felt as though he were on the cusp of a cold.

God damn. It was too early.

#wip wednesday #starfield fanfiction #sam coe x reader #coemancer #coemancer crew #Jacob Coe needs to chill #but Sam should also stop making deals with criminals LMAO #spoilers? possibly #squish writes #am I sad about Sam and his mom? yes

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mcbenson25 · 1 year

Text

More Than He Bargained For Part 7

A/N: Hellooo from the ether here of trying to come back from a bad time. I've been wanting to come back to this for a month now after almost a year hiatus and here it finally is! Hope you all enjoy this!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Final Part

------------------------

"He's a crony."

"Anachronism."

"That's what I said."

You glanced back and forth between Rory and Professor Stein, feeling a sense of bewilderment and uncertainty wash over you.

Anachronism?

Sara seemed to have read your mind. "Lately we've been dealing with anachronisms," she let out a tired sigh, "It's people and things displaced throughout time."

Oh great.

This day just kept getting better and better.

Iris scowled, already annoyed, as she asked, "OK but why would Nazis from 1945 want to crash my wedding?"

Sarah blew a frustrated breath through her lips and shrugged. Who knows?

Rory, on the other hand, regarded Iris with a serious expression. "Crab legs," he said with mischievous smile, "they were absolutely delicious." Iris rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile and you giggled.

Alex glanced up thoughtfully, "Iris has a point, though," she began to walk in the middle of the room trying to piece together what little information they had, "If they were out of time, they would've targeted the military or law enforcement."

You nodded in agreement, recognizing the logic in it. After all, most troublemakers were drawn to places where they could obtain something valuable in return, rather than a random wedding.

"Tommy was plucked five years ago and put into Prometheus Wardrobe?" Felicity asked skeptically. "That doesn't make any sense."

None of this made any sense. You glanced over to the other side of the room at Harry who had seemingly zoned off.

"It does if we're not dealing with anachronisms," Caitlyn chimed in.

That could only mean one thing.

"Visitors from another Earth?" You and Barry asked in unison.

"Jinx," you said out of habit and Barry gave you a goofy smile.

Jefferson appeared puzzled as he looked at the two of you. "Woah. There are more than one?"

Kara nodded as she crossed her arms. "There are 52, actually."

Wonderful. You knew there were more Earths out there, Harry had mentioned a thing or two before but 52? That was a lot to grasp.

With an exasperated sigh, Professor Stein paused briefly before speaking: "Though I'm hard pressed to think of one where Nazi are ascendant."

"I can."

You jumped, not realizing Harry had moved right next to you and was now leaning on the door frame. He offered you a sheepish smile. "Sorry I didn't mean to scare you."

You felt your cheeks flush as you struggled to process the fact that he was standing so close to you. "It's okay."

He lifted his gaze back to the rest of the room, his gentle smile replaced with an expression of seriousness. "There's a 53rd Earth," he paused, "It's called Earth-X."

------------------

As you watched the video on the screen, your eyes widened in disbelief. You couldn't wrap your head around what you were seeing - an alternate reality where the Nazis had emerged victorious, and the world was engulfed in darkness and despair. The scale of devastation was almost too much to bear as you looked away. Harry noticed your uneasiness and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. You turned to look at him, and as your eyes met, he gave you a small, reassuring smile.

"It doesn't have a designation," he waited until everyone had looked away from the screen before speaking again, knowing that they needed a moment to process what they had just seen, "It's a place so awful, so horrific, no sane person would ever travel there." His hand left your shoulder and found its way to yours, fingers lightly brushing against each other. You laced your hand with his as he continued to speak. "It's basically our Earth- same history, same timeline- with one crucial and critical difference."

"So let me hypothesize," Professor Stein sighing before continuing, "The Nazis developed the atomic bomb before the United States did, and they were more than happy to use it."

Harry gave your hand a squeeze, "Yes. The Nazis won the war, and New York, London, Moscow Paris- all obliterated." He let go of your hand as he used them to explain. "The SS set up outposts not only throughout Europe but also throughout the Americas and Hitler continued his brutal reign, aided by Prime Ministers and Presidents sympathetic to him until his death in 1994."

"Now they're not just happy ruling one Earth," you heard Felicity said but your focus had shifted back to Harry who's hand had rejoined it place with yours and he was intently listening to Felicity. His cheeks were still tinted red, whether from you or the long winded talked he had just given, and he had loosened up his suit, unbuttoning the two top buttons of his dress shirt. Only he could still look good even whe-

Kara's urgent voice shattered your thoughts, "We have to find them!" Harry caught your gaze, arching an eyebrow when he realized you hadn't been paying attention. Your flushed cheeks and widened eyes betrayed where your focus had really been. He gave you a cheeky smile and you looked away, embarrassed. How could have been doing, whatever that was, instead of listening to how the hell you were going to take down the freaking Nazis that had just invaded this Earth?

You shook your head, as if to banish the inappropriate thought that had just occupied your mind. Barry's determined voice cut through your thoughts, "Let's get to work on finding our new friends from Earth X." With a deep breath, you and Harry locked eyes, silently agreeing to set aside any distractions and focus on the mission at hand. You both nodded, ready to track down these scumbags.

----------------

Hellooooo. I apologize for taking so freaking long to make this it's just been a rough year and a lot of self doubt but I'm trying to get back into the groove of things. This is a short chapter but I promise the next one will be long and full of exciting events between the beloved reader (you!) and harry and Eobard! I wanted to just get a little bit out there as a good start. Feel free to comment or message me with any thoughts, ideas, opinions. I love you all and thank you so much for being there for me!

Taglist: @khayrrilrainxwells @kirareaper13 @i-dont-care-lol @cursedfaechild @lovepeaceorelse @roryjames82 @brianllama

#harrison wells #harry wells #harry wells x reader #harrison wells x reader #eobard x reader #eobard thawne x reader #eowells #eobard thawne #earth x #the flash cw #reverse flash x reader #reverse flash #fanfiction #fanfic #love triangle

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spyxfamilysmol · 10 months

Text

Identity reveal! Blog mod is anime only! Kind of.

Why the bullet-in-butt date then, I hear you ask. That's because it's the only manga chapter I've read that hasn't been adapted yet, courtesy of it being as early as in the third volume. I read the manga and watched the anime pretty much side-by-side, I came by this chapter, and from the first page I was like, wait this hasn't happened in the anime yet. From the second page I was like, no come on I gotta read this.

But since then I've been staying away from spoilers, kicking and screaming all throughout. Making this blog has been a relief from the months of no content for my stubborn ass.

Because of that, there won't be any panels from chapters past chapter 38, the last one that was animated. There's about 200 posts in the queue, scheduled to post four times a day up until the end of August, but I thought I could say this now to prepare y'all for the sudden way the posts will stop coming.

After that, the blog will go on hiatus until a few episodes from the second season have aired. I like shuffling the posts and the order they come out in, so I want more than one chapter to work with. It's also likely that the first episode of season two will be the bullet-in-butt date, screenshots from which have already appeared here, so that will probably move my re-emergence one week further.

If you're wondering if I'm that other very stubborn anime-only but very passionate fan you might have heard about... yes. I'm @piracytheorist. Hi.

I'm sorry :D There's enough content in the blog to last almost two months, and I'll be back after that, I promise, I ain't quitting y'all. Thank you for engaging and giving worth to this little blog <3

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ri47 · 9 months

Text

A Reminder on VesalBlood Project Fanworks Policy

we've been on hiatus for a little bit, and seeing as it looks to be in fashion, it's time for us to emerge from hiatus solely to shoot ourselves in the foot.

probably an ill omen to joke about that, but it seemed like the most eyecatching way to open a business as usual reminder. how're you all doing? this update's from rin's desk

feel free to skip this if you're mad about the clickbait or have already read the fanworks policy. there is a bit about translation at the end that may interest international fans, though.

GENERAL STUFF

I've gotten a few asks about this, and while it's covered on the official site, I wanted to lay things out here so that people who haven't checked out our beautiful hub (check it out! I like to think it's quite pretty!) know it in no uncertain terms

RI47 HEAVY INDUSTRIES fully supports all fanworks within the extent permitted to us by international copyright law, which we unfortunately must obey. would that I could tell you to break that, but I can't, so I shan't.

you can make zines, comics, fanfiction, games, songs, whatever you want. you have blanket permission to produce crafts, physical and digital, as long as you don't attempt to impersonate RI47, pass it off as official, or otherwise operate in a for-profit capacity. we ask that, in cases where you do want to sell something, you run it by us first (and send us a copy!)

TRANSLATION STUFF

because VesalBlood Project is the work of a small team (presently consisting of two permanent members and a few contributors), it's not currently viable for us to work on releasing anything in multiple languages. not gonna attach any sob stories here, but every member of the team is below poverty line and works on the project as a labour of love.

English speakers, as it stands, make up the majority of the audience. this means that releasing in English is the most viable way to make sure that VesalBlood is available to as many people as possible with a budget of zero. I regret that it's this way, but officially translating an unfinished work is unfortunately just not in the cards.

all that aside, while you have permission to translate and distribute things related to VesalBlood to your heart's content, we do have an official book of translation documents that has been maintained for the entirety of the project's existence. while these documents aren't publicly available due to containing spoilers for future projects, we would be happy to share relevant sections with anyone who would like to translate VesalBlood for a wider audience

if we haven't released something in your language, whether or not it's commercial, we'll look the other way if you happen to be offering it somewhere that it's otherwise unavailable.

while we have general translation notes for most localisation efforts, mainly detailing connotations of certain terms and which ones should remain untranslated, there are slightly more specific translation notes available for French, German, Japanese, Mandarin, Polish, Portugese, Russian, and Spanish efforts. these notes mainly contain information specific to speech patterns and the characters used in names, but contain a few "official" translations for trickier setting terms that don't exist outside of VesalBlood

all that being said, I don't personally recommend translating Diesem Fernen Traum yet, unless you specifically want to translate the beta version of a work-in-progress

translation is the greatest show of love that I, personally, think can be given to a work. sharing something with others even when it's not easy is a deeply beautiful thing, and I'm eternally thankful to everyone who's ever set out to do it

The Short of It

if you want to make fan merchandise related to RI47, you can do it as long as it's not for profit.

don't impersonate us (it's very rude)

if you want to make something based on RI47's works on a for profit basis, we can talk about it, but you need permission.

if you want to translate anything official from RI47, you can do it.

we have translation documents we want to share with you. it will make your life easier. there are some translations that were written in advance solely to take work off your shoulders.

if you release a translation of something that would otherwise be paywalled, we wouldn't hold it against you.

as an addendum to the previous note, if you want to translate something that would otherwise be paywalled, we would like it if we could work with you on the process

Diesem Fernen Traum is unfinished and subject to revision with time, so consider that before setting out to translate it

in this studio, we love and respect translators

until next time, rin

#VesalBlood

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gremlincum · 7 months

Note

Could you write a fluffy fic about joan jett where like the reader is upset and she comforts them?

Nyx's notes: I've been on a bit of a writing hiatus this past year due to some family and health issues, but I'm hoping to be coming back over the coming months, I was looking through requests and had inspiration strike so here you loveleys go!

Enjoy!

Crimson and clover -

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, cussing?, best friends to lovers because I'm a sucker for that trope, and fluff

You laid on your bathroom floor covered in sweat and beer. You didn't know why you put yourself in these situations, you hated hosting parties with a passion, yet you always let Joan convince you to throw the next biggest rager at your house.

You lived in a small two-bedroom house on the strip. It was falling apart in everyway possible, and probably couldn't pass inspection, but it was close to your job at the dennys on the corner and that's all that mattered.

Shortly after you moved in, you put an ad for a roommate in the paper, and the next day Joan called you. At first it was supposed to be temporary, but there was just something about Joanie that made you want to keep her around.

She made your stomach twist and turn in the best ways possible. Whenever she was around, you truly felt on top of the world, but you were most definitely not willing to lose an amazing friendship over some silly crush.

That brings us to our current scene. Hiding from the growing party in your bathroom, like a complete loser. A hard knock at the door made you lift your head and scoff.

"Go away"you grumbled, hoping the person on the other side would go away.

"Cmon (y/n)! I gotta piss!"Joan yelled. Of course. Speak of the fucking devil.

You pushed yourself up and tilted your head at the door. Debating if you should even open it.

"(Y/n) I know you're in there! Just let me in please", her voice was softer now, as if it twisted into one of concern.

You sighed and reached over to unlock the door. "Come in Joanie", she cautiously opened the door, afraid of what mess she found behind the door.

"Oh shit..."she snickered"you okay?" She reached her hand out for yours, completely ignoring what she originally came for.

"Yeah m'good Joanie"you muttered shamefully, ignoring her offer to help you up. You didn't want her to see you so vulnerable.

"Dont lie to me"she said, dropping to the floor looking at him. "We're friends, we need to be honest. We are with each other."

"Joanie, I can't keep doing these parties. can't a threesome happen in my room right now" you said, with a slight chuckle.

"And all these people make me nervous. They don't clean up after themselves, they break stuff, they ruin my sheets. I'm scared of even sitting on the couch."

"That's all you had to say" Joanie told you with a smile. "I don't ever wanna see you upset like this want."

"Y'know, you're a great person Joan"you told her with a big smile,

"I don't know about all that, I'm a mess"she scooted closer to him. "You're great though," she smiled with a slight blush going across her face.

It was impossible to ignore Joan's beauty. You saw through her "confident" facade and saw a beautifully damaged soul.

"I love you Joanie"you whispered, laying your head on her shoulder. She glanced over at him, her signature smirk plastered on her face.

"Yea?" She asked, giggling a bit."I love you too". She planted a kiss on her head.

You picked up your head, a blush evident on your face, and slowly leaned in interlocking lips with Joan. She leaned forward and cupped your face, stroking your cheek softly.

"Sorry"you murmured with a smile as you pulled away shyly.

It truly was a sight to behold, you two with your legs unintentionally intertwined on your bathroom floor as a party emerged outside the door.

But at this point you didn't care about the party, you just cared about you and Joan. And the undeniable tension between the two of you.

"Don't know why you're apologizing", she looked down. "I thought it was pretty obvious I wanted to do that for a while.

"I guess I was oblivious"you laughed, biting your lip before coming to the realization "Didn't you have to use the restroom?"

"Yeah"she replied, looking at you, leaning back."It can wait a little bit longer."

#joan jett #joan jett and the blackhearts #the runaways #1980s #joan jett x reader #joan jett fluff #Joan Jett fanfic

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with-love-from-hell · 1 year

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Hi everyone,

So I'm still on Hiatus but I need to ask for help/support since apparently life never ceases to shit all over me when I'm already stressed out.

Tw: blood, animal illness, mentions of animal death

This morning, my partner and I woke up to puddles of blood all over our bedroom. There was a lot- and I mean a lot- as a result of my dog suddenly beginning to bleed from his mouth. After taking him to the emergency vet, we found out he has multiple tooth abscesses that have been caused by an underlying infection in his jaw- which the vet thinks may be linked to some sort of cancer, but right now she can't run any biopsies until the infection is managed.

So far, the vet bill has been $600, but there is more to come. He began bleeding again about an hour ago and I may need to take him back in, plus we are being referred to a dental specialist for surgery. Per what my vet has said, this is going to easily cost a few thousand dollars. I bought pet insurance today after trying to hold off on it until after we move, but they will not cover any claims until February 10th.

My dog is everything to me, and this entire situation has me stressed out beyond belief, and is resulting in draining my pto where I may need to take unpaid leave for my exam because I will be going negative after taking today and tomorrow for this. I don't normally like asking for financial help, but anything that can be offered during this time would be appreciated. I've owned Houser since he was a puppy, and he's been through a lot since then- between previous abuse from my sister's exhusband, having a skin allergy, chronic ear infections, high anxiety, joint issues, and going blind suddenly about a year and a half ago. He's barely 10 years old, and I'm really hoping to have a few good years left with him.

This whole situation has sent me into a spiral- both relating to the potential of him having cancer and financial strain on top of the billion things I have to worry about right now. If I can at least have some of the financial burden taken away, that would mean the world to me. If you can spare anything at all, I would be so grateful. After losing my cat to a cancerous tumor a few months ago, I don't think I can mentally handle having another happen.

Thank you to everyone who is willing and able to help out. This shit fucking sucks, and having any type of support rn would be great.

#obey me!#obey me #shall we date: obey me #obey me swd #obm #help #writer help #ko fi support

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lastweeksshirttonight · 4 months

Text

Lee is re-watching Sherlock for some fucking reason - Season One

I'm well aware that the crossover between "currently popular and loved British comedian in the US updates, thirst, and accoutrements" and "BBC show that went so off the rails that people now like to pretend Andrew Scott's breakout role was the Hot Priest in Fleabag" is limited, but weirdly, returning to Sherlock was one of the few things that was keeping my brain somewhat grounded and whirring during Work Hell.

We're in uncharted territory here. You're gonna learn a bit about the things I do when I'm not tracking John Oliver obsessively. I am nervous about this but hey, I'm guessing most of you knew I don't solely live and breathe John Oliver. (I know. I have multitudes. This is a shocking revelation. Please take time to process it.)

Firstly, a content note - there's going to be discussion about queerbaiting and queercoding villains, and the beginning of this goes into some of James Somerton's absolutely disgusting claims about the AIDS crisis. This post will only be focused on Season One, as that's all I've finished at this point.

Let's go.

(above image sourced from Writing Tips and Memes)

My sudden re-emergent hyperfixation started because of the hbomberguy takedown of James Somerton, weirdly. I don't follow many YouTubers - I like Bright Sun Films because he goes urban exploring, something I've always wanted to do but have never managed to make happen, and also Todd in the Shadows, whose Trainwreckords series is very well-done and expertly researched. Seeing that name, you might know where this is going. Todd dropped a video about James Somerton, who I had never fucking heard of and now wish I'd known about before, so I could scream bloody murder about what an absolute fuckwad he is.

(I don't want to get too in the weeds here, but the things James asserted about WWII, Nazis, and the AIDS crisis are so vehemently offensive that I'm still struggling with them. Claiming that only boring gays survived the AIDS crisis in particular is so vile that I have gotten anger flashes thinking about it almost daily since hearing it.)

Todd recommended watching all four hours of the hbomberguy plagiarism video, and I ran that in the background while working about two weeks ago. Eventually I had to stop doing that because the plagiarism revelations were so distracting and shocking. Todd's video was even more of a goddamn mindfuck, and even the smaller, less offensive things have taken up far too much space in my brain. Californians, does anyone at all deify Bob Iger??? Like... what the goddamn fuck??? Bob Iger????

After watching one hbomberguy video, the algorithm did its thing, and gave me a video called "Sherlock is Garbage and Here's Why". Posting it here for posterity:

youtube

Because my brain works in mysterious ways (-cough-ADHD-cough-), watching this... made me want to rewatch Sherlock.

I initially saw Sherlock for the first time thanks to someone I met in my last year of college, 2012. At the time, Michael (a nickname) was my neighbor in the dorms; over the past ten years, she's become one of my closest friends and a true rock in my life. One of the first things we bonded over that I introduced her to was the San Francisco Giants and the ghost I will always be chasing, Tim Lincecum; one of the first things we bonded over that she introduced me to was BBC Sherlock. The show was in the early months of its extended hiatus after Season Two, at the height of its fandom, and we were both completely obsessed. I read all the Doyle stories, took in a truly wild amount of fanfiction, wrote a not-very-popular AU fic, became part of a strange inter-dorm ARG based on Sherlock orchestrated by Michael... it consumed a huge part of our lives.

When Season 3 dropped, I almost stopped watching after "The Empty Hearse". I don't want to get into why it offended me so much before we get to a Season 3 post, but just know my enthusiasm severely dampened there. The rest of Season 3 I think of with blase emotions, especially the ending, which I found just dumb, save one part of it. I recall going to see The Abominable Bride in theatres with my mom (and maybe Michael?), and I think I liked it fine - aside, again, from the ending. But I had no interest in a Season Four, and when it dropped, Michael's long rambling phone calls describing the absolute shitstorm of a plot cemented that I was never going to watch it again.

Until now.

I definitely don't think the hbomberguy video is perfect. His insistence that Doyle canon never had Holmes pull answers to cases out of his ass is... something, lol, as is his opinion that changing the solution to certain puzzles in A Study in Pink disrespects the original canon. (Bro, these stories have been retold a bajillion times, they need to mix it up to keep it interesting.) But he put a finger on something that I'd wrestled with regarding Sherlock for a long time - that the show's writing often teased something big and new and conclusive in the horizon, but almost never delivered. That wasn't an issue in early days when there was less invested in an increasingly convoluted mythic story, or when they weren't fully blowing off the resolutions to cliffhangers, but the flaw in writing a story where you promise something huge on the horizon and never deliver should be obvious.

The first season doesn't trade much in that idea, and going back to it was something I found exceptionally enjoyable!

Before I watched:

I remembered bits and pieces of "A Study in Pink" and the whole plot in summary.

I truly didn't remember anything about "The Blind Banker" except that I found it fairly 'yellow peril'-y when I saw it in 2012.

I mixed up huge chunks of Season Two's "A Scandal in Belgravia" with "The Great Game" in my head and somehow forgot the main plot thrust was Moriarty kidnapping people and strapping bombs to them.

I genuinely forgot Sebastian Moran was a character basically hallucinated into existence by the fandom and didn't appear in the show at all until a brief appearance in Season Three.

In a way, it was like I was watching the show for the first time all over again. My partner also watched the first season with me, and it was interesting to get his thoughts on the show as we watched.

To start, his favorite character is Mycroft. Watching Season One, I had to agree that Mycroft has a depth of character that I'd forgotten about. Mark Gatiss plays him perfectly, aloof and smarter than you but unsure of how to deal with his natural feelings of concern and fear for his oft-spiraling, danger-seeking younger brother - and how those feelings magnify with the influence of extreme danger-seeker (at least in this season) John Watson. The show wants you to believe so badly that he's Moriarty in "A Study in Pink", which I don't think works even if you know he isn't Moriarty - there's a warmth to Gatiss' Mycroft that, even while he's doing incredibly ominous things like shutting off all cameras in a busy intersection, still comes through.

My favorite character is Moriarty. I haven't mentioned this very much here, because why would I, but my favorite character type in media is "theatrical abject shithead". It's why I cosplay Bakugo from My Hero Academia and loved everything about Akechi in Persona 5. Hell when I was a kid, I told teachers that when I grew up, I wanted to join Team Rocket. I love the theatrical shitheads. And boy, is Moriarty some sort of theatrical shithead. I don't DISAGREE with hbomberguy pointing out that, as written, Moriarty is a complete mess of a character, a queer-coded literal terrorist with no motivations besides "I did that because I'M CRAAAAZY!"... but he's my queer-coded literal terrorist, ok? I could write a whole paper on all the harmful stereotypes inhabiting this version of Moriarty... but I can't deny that the flamboyance and violence pulsing just beneath the surface of Andrew Scott's performance was the beating heart of that show for me. Sure, Sherlock and John, at least early on, were a compelling duo, but the show was at its best with Moriarty pulling strings for inexplicable reasons in the background. I love him.

(An aside: watching Sherlock made me remember how hilarious it was to see basically every major actor from the show in one of my favorite movies of all time, 1917, to the point that I actually kinda laughed in the theatre thinking about it.)

The entirety of the first season also is more devoted to actual crime-solving and detective work than I remembered the show being. I think that works strongly in its favor, and as I recall things from later seasons, drifting from that element definitely hampers the show greatly. In particular, while the lazy and uncomfortable Orientalism of "The Blind Banker" is still incredibly glaring, the actual mystery at the core of it is very excitingly tracked and easily followed while watching. The fact that John is treated like an equal (mostly) throughout only enhances my thoughts on that. "The Great Game" is a little more slapdash (and hurt by the fact that the entire Vermeer section would be solvable with a smartphone nowadays), but you can still make connections mentally with most of the cases and deduction/investigation is being shown logically. (hbomberguy cites the Golem as a problematic logical leap akin to some of Season Two's dumbest, and I can't agree. It's a reasonable suspension of disbelief to assume Sherlock knows about assassins and is followed by some more sensible investigation and inspection of the Golem's victim. The sequence of Sherlock fighting the Golem, however, is very, very silly.)

Related to that... the autopsy doctors on this show are fucking AWFUL at their jobs. Like straight-up negligently awful. How in the actual fuck did they not investigate the puncture marks on Connie Price's body? How did they not notice a highly distinctive heel tattoo on three recently-murdered corpses? Is Molly the only vaguely competent person in the mortuary? My partner and I were extremely amused that, while Lestrade and his police force are thankfully shown with much more intelligence than in other Holmes adaptations and BBC!Watson wouldn't think jam is a clue, the writers seem to have shunted the stupidity straight to the invisible autopsy doctors.

The first season also does a good job of making Sherlock seem like an overly intelligent if socially stunted human being, instead of the condescending prickish intellectual Ubermensch he ends up becoming as the show progresses. "A Study in Pink"'s ending being Sherlock throwing aside his deduction of the cabbie's killer when he realizes it's Watson, unconvincingly lying to Lestrade and insisting he's in shock before rejoining the other man and genuinely bonding with him, is remarkably compelling as fulfillment of a promise we get from Lestrade earlier in the episode - "Sherlock Holmes is a great man. One day he may even be a good one." My memory is admittedly faulty, but part of why "The Empty Hearse" turned me off so viscerally was Sherlock's (and to an extent, Mycroft's) insufferable growing smugness, particularly where explaining plans or mysteries to John. We get told often that Watson humanizes Sherlock and that the two have a strong bond throughout the series, but Sherlock gets much more dickish in general as the series progresses. One thing I do remember with stark clarity is that after being utterly chastised at a Christmas party in "A Scandal in Belgravia", Sherlock does visibly treat Molly MUCH better throughout the remainder of the show. So, uh, why did we lose that energy with the show's central pairing?

Speaking of the show's central pairing, the queerbaiting starts SO EARLY on this show. I want to make it clear that obviously the benefit of hindsight and knowledge of how the show ends really colors a lot about the Johnlock relationship now, and as a society, we're more aware of what queerbaiting is and what it looks like, which will obviously alter how I perceive these interactions now. I also want to make it clear that I never really shipped Johnlock outside of just kind of assuming that it would be canon because everyone seemed really convinced of it. (I was an absolute degenerate that shipped John with Moriarty. On top of enjoying theatrical disasters, I enjoy ships with an abundance of chaos and impossibility.) There's some biases at play here.

Even so, we are not far into the episode where John is protesting that obviously he needs a second bed in 221B to Mrs. Hudson, he's not gay! The scene in the restaurant has such an aggressively shippy energy to it (despite Watson's consistent denials) that I actively commented on it to my partner as it was happening, saying "the queerbaiting happens WAY SOONER than I thought!" It's distracting and has aged absolutely terribly. The worst by far is John quipping, after being removed from a bomb vest at a pool in "The Great Game", that people will talk because of Sherlock ripping his clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. Why is Watson's heterosexuality so fragile that he's thinking about gossip rags as he's actively recovering from a near-death experience?!

(Aside: I'm aware that last point is not as effective when you think about the fact that I shipped two characters whose sole canonical interaction was one man kidnapping and forcing the other into a bomb vest. In my defense, a) I love mess and b) John never quips about thinking people will talk because he got kidnapped.)

Moriarty's first appearance in "The Great Game" sees him as Molly's fake boyfriend slipping a phone number to Sherlock, which lead to my partner commenting about how distracting it also was, on top of the queerbaiting, that almost every single person on the show has some sort of deep metaphysical attraction to Sherlock. Those people aren't on the lighting and cinematography team for sure; Benedict Cumberbatch is lit ominously and sometimes demonically throughout the first season, highlighting his antihero and brusque nature effectively. But many, many characters in the show - just in season one, Molly, Moriarty, multiple characters of the day, the Cabbie, and John - are all drawn to Sherlock and his very special brain and his very sharp cheekbones. Signs of a big future problem come through in this way, where the show starts sidelining Watson as our central figure and puts Sherlock squarely at the center of everyone's universe and makes lesbians fall in love with him.

(My partner also laughed pretty hard at how obvious Moriarty's pratfalls were as Molly's boyfriend, noting that the show was pretty bad at hiding who Moriarty was every time it came up.)

Some of the seeds of Sherlock's destruction are sown in this first season, obviously. The big one I haven't touched on is the ending cliffhanger itself. Moriarty has John and Sherlock trapped in the pool, tens of sniper sights trained on them, and says that he can't let them escape. Amazing cliffhanger here! It is not fulfilled on at all, but because Andrew Scott can carry anything on his back (including Spectre, which I cannot start talking about because we'll be here all day), the scene doesn't feel like a total waste and makes you want to hang on to find out what happens later.

But there was so much here that was delightful. All the acting is uniformly excellent, and the overt physical tics that come to define Sherlock's mind palace and mental prowess being showcased are barely evident here. The actual detective work, like I said earlier, is really involving! I don't feel like I figured out the solutions for the mysteries I couldn't recall the answers for too easily and thought Sherlock's deductive reason largely followed and wasn't too obscure. I'm still such a sucker for the show's style - that opening credits sequence is so perfectly put together, the text messages that interact with the scene and at the time made this show feel so fresh and modern to me, filming the character's faces in taxis through panes of glass and obscuring material in "A Study in Pink" to give everything an obfuscating sheen... give me all of it.

The music, too, was something I'd forgotten about and truly ended up adoring. Taskmaster (and The Horne Section's score for it) really owes a debt to Michael Price and David Arnold. So much of Sherlock's score could probably be dropped straight into a Taskmaster episode and I would have to think pretty hard to notice a difference in the show's usual musical palette. I've been eyeballing the vinyl on eBay, to give you an idea of how much I love this score. "The Game is On" is a perfect piece of music, clockwork spinning noises emphasizing the jauntiness of Sherlock as he drags Watson on his latest case before sliding into the more subdued, vaguely ominous thrum of its second movement descending into the madness of the third part, violins shrieking as the action reaches its apex.

youtube

Normally, with such a degree of pleasant surprise, I'd be eager to move forward to Season Two. Unfortunately, I know the first episode of Season Two is... a doozy. To say the least. A doozy that may get its own essay because of how doozy-ish it is.

In any case, I ended up really enjoying going back to Season One of Sherlock! Super down to talk further about the show, future write-ups, and my horrible taste in fictional ships and men - shoot me a message, reply to this post, wherever, I'll be here! <3

#not john oliver #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #Youtube #too long didn't read - the lee lastweeksshirttonight story #hbomberguy #todd in the shadows #fuck james somerton #3k words on a hyperfixation

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madd-nix · 9 months

Text

Reuniting, Better Late Than Never

Chapter 4

Woo! Adhd finally gave me some motivation to write again! Sorry for the delay and for a shorter chapter, but I have big plans for the upcoming chapter. So I hope you enjoy, and thank you for still following this story!

Links: Whole work on AO3, Chapter 1 on tumblr, Chapter 2 on tumblr, Chapter 3 on tumblr

Words: 1,692

Rating: PG (ask to tag)

Emmet had gone about his day the same as he always did now. He woke up, fed his and Ingo's pokemon, made himself coffee and some breakfast, then got dressed for work. Once he was ready, he selected six pokemon to take with him for battles, making sure to change it up each day so every member of their teams got a chance to battle at some point. He then left some toys and treats around the apartment to entertain the others before leaving for the station.

Once at work, he went about his day as usual. In the morning, his job typically meant he was monitoring the movement of the trains and making sure they ran on schedule, taking care of any paperwork and making new schedules for all the employees, and occasionally dealing with rude or annoying passengers when they demanded to speak with someone higher up. He always hated that part of the job. Luckily, it was a rare occasion.

After lunch break, it was time to head to the Battle Subway. Since Ingo's disappearance, he alternated between the singles and doubles lines, with the multi lines being on an indefinite hiatus. Today he was scheduled for the singles line.

As he left his office to go to the Battle Subway platform, he heard a familiar voice.

"Emmet! Emmet, hold on!"

Emmet turned to see Clay, marching towards him and waving frantically.

"I am Emmet. I am due to head to the Battle Subway. Is everything alright?"

"Postpone the Battle Subway, son. I've got somethin' more important for ya," Clay said as he adjusted his hat and took out his cell phone.

"More important?" Emmet asked. He then realized what Clay might be talking about. His breathing hitched and his eyes widened.

"Yer a smart kid. You know what I'm talking about already, dont'cha?"

"Clay. Please do not lie. This is about Ingo, isn't it?" Emmet's voice was shaky as he spoke.

"It is. He's over in Sinnoh with my granddad. You wanna talk to him?" Clay held up his phone.

Emmet nodded, but then remembered the Battle Subway. He held up a finger to signal to Clay to hold on, then lifted up his radio to connect with his coworkers.

"I am Emmet. I will be unable to board the Battle Subway. Family emergency. Please inform the challengers. Thank you." With that, he motioned for Clay to follow him.

"To my office. More private."

Together, they walked to Emmet's office. Emmet closes and locks the door, then sits at his desk after pulling out a chair for Clay.

"Are ya ready?" Clay asked as he pulled up his grandfather's contact number on his phone.

Emmet nodded. This would be the first time he'd get to talk to his brother in five years. Because of who Clay's grandfather was, Emmet had known where and when Ingo was located since shortly after he initially went missing. So it was only a matter of time until he returned. And now it was finally happening.

Clay dialed the number and listened as the phone rang. From where he sat, Emmet could just hear Clay's side of the conversation.

"...Hey Granddad...... Yup, I got him here......... Yeah, I'll hand him the phone."

With that, Clay held out the phone to Emmet. Shakily, Emmet took it.

"......Hello?" Emmet's voice was quieter than he meant for it to be, but luckily, the person on the other side was able to hear him regardless.

"Emmet? Emmet, is that you?" Ingo. That was definitely Ingo. Same loud voice, laced with so many emotions. Excitement, joy, nervousness, and slight worry.

"Ingo! Ingo, it's really you! I am Emmet, and I am so verrrrrry happy to hear your voice!" Emmet could feel tears prickling the corners of his eyes. His brother was really back!

"Emmet! Emmet, I-I can't believe it's really you! I've missed you so much!" On the other end, Emmet could hear the faint sounds of moving and footsteps, so he guessed that Ingo was moving now as they talked.

"I have missed you too! Clay told me where you were, and that you were in the past, but I still missed you! Wait. Do you still have amnesia?" Emmet asked.

"I... I do," Ingo admitted. "I am slowly remembering some things, but I know there are still many tracks that are missing and disconnected. But I remembered you! Even while still in Hisui, I could remember a man who looked like me! I remembered that you were someone important to me! I just couldn't remember exactly who you were, but I still knew that I missed you!"

Emmet placed his free hand - the one not holding the phone - on his thigh and squeezed to ground himself. He could not let his emotions overtake him. He couldn't risk losing his ability to speak, even temporarily, since he couldn't use sign language over phone like this. And he knew that whenever he got overstimulated or overly emotional, speaking became harder for him. But squeezing his leg helped. It was something to focus on other than the emotions flooding his brain. He took a deep breath and focused on what he wanted to say next.

".....Emmet?" Ingo's voice sounded a bit worried. Was he taking too long?

"Here. One minute," was all he could get out. Luckily, that was enough for Ingo.

"Take your time, Emmet. I'm not hanging up. Just breathe."

Emmet nodded, even though he knew Ingo wouldn't be able to see it. He focused on his breathing and running the words through his head. He kept squeezing his leg and he started tapping his other foot to add something else to ground himself. Eventually, he felt ready to speak again.

"I am Emmet. I will help you regain your memories. I promise. And I cannot wait to see you. I love you, Ingo. I am so verrrrrry glad you are back!"

"I'm glad to be back! And of course, I love you too, Emmet!" Ingo said, and Emmet could practically hear the smile on his brother's face. There was also a sniffle on the other end, meaning that Ingo was getting emotional over all of this too.

"Look, I really want to talk with you more, but I don't know if a phone conversation is the best way to do it. Clay said he can bring you over here to Sinnoh. Can we talk more then?"

Emmet was so glad that his brother understood what was happening. Even with amnesia, his brother seemed to remember his issues with speaking when he got overly emotional or stimulated. And Emmet wondered if Ingo was also doing this for his own sake. Growing up, Ingo had always been able to tolerate more compared to his brother, and it took him longer to fall into nonverbal spells. But it still happened, and Emmet wondered if Ingo was starting to reach his limit. They were both semi-verbal after all. At least they could sign to each other when they'd finally get to meet up.

"Yup. We can talk more then. I will get ready to leave. See you soon, Ingo."

"See you soon, Emmet."

The phone line went dead as the twins both hung up. Emmet handed the phone back to Clay.

"You doin' alright, son?" he asked.

Emmet nodded and wiped at his eyes. He then held up his hands to sign.

"I am okay. Just tired. But happy," he signed with a tired smile.

"I'll call Skyla and get her to start up the plane," Clay said. "I should also call up Drayden, Iris, and Elesa. Let 'em know about Ingo. In the meantime, why don't you go home? Maybe pack some stuff and relax a bit. I'll let ya know when we're planning to leave."

Emmet nodded and signed "thank you" before getting himself to stand. He'd have to let someone know he'd be leaving for the day.

He and Clay went their separate ways, then Emmet found a depot agent and informed them he would be leaving for the day. Luckily, they didn't ask for details, and Emmet was free to leave. Soon, he'd be home, packing and waiting to go see Ingo. Finally, they'd be a two car train again.

Ingo had stepped outside during his phone call with Emmet. It just felt weird to have such a conversation in front of others like that. So now, he stood outside Lian's house, holding Lian's phone as he wiped away his tears. He couldn't believe it. He'd soon get to see his brother again, after just barely remembering him for five years.

He took another moment to compose himself, then he walked back inside. He handed Lian his phone back.

"Thank you, Lian," he said, his voice still slightly shaky and quiet.

"You're welcome, Ingo. But are you doin' alright?" Lian asked as he pocketed his phone.

"Yeah, I'm alright," Ingo said with a nod. He took a seat on the couch again. "I am glad I got to speak with Emmet, and he will be coming to Sinnoh soon. I suppose I'm just a bit emotionally drained."

"Understandable," Sabi said.

"Yeah, that's kinda how I felt when I saw Mom again," Dawn added. "And honestly, it's how I've been feeling these past few days getting to see Rei and Lian and Sabi again too."

"Heh, in that case, why don't we relax a bit with some TV?" Lian suggested.

Ingo nodded, happy for a fun, mindless activity.

"Maybe we can put on a movie?" Johanna suggested.

"Oh yeah, are there any movies we missed out on?" Dawn asked.

"Let's see what I got," Lian said as his Geodude floated over, carrying the remote to him.

Ingo didn't care what they put on. He was just glad for a chance to relax and not have to think. He leaned back into the couch as Lian switched through channels and Dawn, Johanna, and Sabi all discussed movie options. Lian's little Archen flew over to his lap once more, and Ingo absentmindedly ran his fingers through its fur, helping to ground him after such an emotional day.

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