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azsazz · 3 months

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Midnight Muse (Part 21)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,850

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Masterlist]

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You haven’t spoken to Azriel since the morning you woke up in his bed alone.

Which, granted, has only been one day.

You’d spent the rest of your Sunday confused, rerunning the previous night over and over and over again until your head hurt with it. You thought that you and Azriel had started anew, if the passionate sex you’d shared the night before was anything to go by. But when you woke, the sheets beside you hadn’t even been warm and the note he’d left you seemed scrawled in haste, like he’d barely had the courtesy to do so on his way out the door.

Something important came up, I’m sorry. I’ll explain later. Please don’t be mad, princess. I’m coming back to you. —Az

He’d left his number but you’d left the comfort of his bed, slipping back into your dress and collecting your things before doing the ultimate walk of shame next door. Really, it’s much worse than the last time you’d snuck out of his apartment. You’d been hungover then, caring mostly about not throwing up in the hall or waking Azriel, but by the silence of the apartment as you made your way out, there was no need for you to be quiet.

It left you only with the aching between your thighs and the mottled bruises painting your skin purple.

That night was better than a dream. You would’ve never thought that you and Azriel could work past the lingering feud you’d started the year with, and you hadn’t realized how draining your constant grudge had been. It turns out that getting over yourself and under him had been the best thing that could’ve happened for your relationship.

His touch burns your skin long after you’ve showered him off. You can still feel him between your legs, fingers dug into the meat of your thighs as he held you still for his taking. The feeling of his lips, his tongue brushing yours, everything that he’d done to you last night, clinging to your very being as if he’d tattooed himself across every inch of your skin.

Maybe you should’ve listened to his note. You could have easily stayed in his bed all day, with how comfortable it is, but as the minutes trickled by, the paranoia set in, eating at you until you’d had to flee.

Feyre hadn’t asked any questions when you slipped into her room after your shower. She’d welcomed you with open arms, a sad look in her eyes as if she knew exactly what happened. And maybe she did; maybe she heard you like you heard her, but you hadn’t cared, only snuggled up to your best friend's side as she put a movie on her laptop for the both of you to watch.

She knew you would tell her in good time.

It hadn’t stopped Azriel from blowing up your phone. He must’ve stolen your number from Rhsyand or Cassian, or perhaps he even told them what happened because message after message after message lit up your notifications, pleading for you to answer your phone like an incessant alarm.

Princess…it’s Az. Where did you go?

Do you want some waffles? There might still be some ice cream left before Cassian finishes it all, but with the spoon he’s found, it won’t last long.

Can I please explain?

And finally:

I can hear your phone buzzing through the wall. Please answer me.

You hadn’t replied to those, nor any of the ones that followed. You half expected him to come knocking at your door, but Feyre had noticed your poor mood and told Rhys that the two of you were having a girl’s day and not to bother either of you.

You could’ve both kissed and been upset with her for that.

You wanted that explanation from Azriel, but you also wanted him to fight for it. Let him come knocking, let him ask you in person to explain. Who finally gets the girl and leaves her to wake up alone? Especially after all of the things Azriel had admitted to you…

Monday morning is much the same. You’d successfully avoided seeing Azriel on your way to campus, and as much as you tried focusing on your drawing course, none of the shapes you were drawing turned into anything great.

You’d expected it to be bliss, to get your mind off of every little nitpicky thing you keep thinking about from that night. Feyre and Lucien’s presence helped some, but when the class quieted down for a drawing exercise and you were left alone with your thoughts once again, they naturally drifted back to yesterday morning. Maybe you had misread Azriel’s intentions and he was only looking for a one night stand. You did make the first move, afterall.

It was all a jumbled mess in your head that could only make sense if Azriel explained it. And now you’re once again thinking that you should have stayed…or at least texted him back.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” Lucien asks, startling you from your thoughts. The tip of your charcoal cracks against your drawing pad and you frown, staring at the black chalky marks on your fingers. You frown, shoving the immediate thought of Azriel from your head and tilt your head up to meet Lucien’s concerned gaze.

You offer him a forced smile. “Yeah, sorry, I was zoning out a bit. I’m fine.” You hadn’t realized that class ended and everyone is packing up their things. Feyre’s over by the drawers, stowing her pad in the one you share. Lucien doesn’t look like he believes you, but he stays silent while you hastily pack your supplies away, grimacing at the drawing you’d been working on.

You don’t check your phone. You’d already woken up to multiple messages from Azriel this morning, asking to walk you to class and explain. Luckily, you hadn’t run into him on your way out the door, tearing down the staircase with a confused Feyre trying to keep up.

Lucien and Feyre are talking about where you should all head to lunch when the three of you leave the building. Alis had announced another assignment, and the premise already hangs heavy on your shoulders. The instructions were left loose enough that you have once again no idea what you’re going to draw for it. It’s infuriating, how everyone else just seems to know immediately what they’re wanting to create when it takes you weeks to figure it out, and then when you do, you’re changing your mind again and again, worried that nothing is good enough.

You run smack into Lucien’s back while you’re lost in your thoughts. Your friends are three steps out the door and your nose stings from where you’d hit it against your friend. Lucien hardly even seems to notice, his mouth set in a straight line and he and Feyre stare directly ahead.

At Azriel, who’s leaning up against the railing. He looks so nervous it’s almost as if he doesn’t even go to this school; doesn’t walk into the same buildings or around the same campus. His thumb is tucked into the strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder, and the other is stuffed into the pocket of his leather jacket. His black hair is tousled but not from the wind, from the amount of times he’s nervously run his fingers through it.

You watch his golden eyes flick over Feyre and Lucien, darkening as they rove over your copper haired friend while you step out from behind him. He instantly finds your gaze and they soften, and then he’s pushing off from the railing and making his way towards you. Your face heats because this is the last place you thought Azriel would corner you. In public.

“Hey, Azriel,” Feyre greets, glancing over at you. You shake your head softly but keep your gaze pinned to Azriel who strides closer like he no longer has a care in the world. It’s a front and you know it.

Azriel nods politely, but he doesn’t break your stare. “(Y/N), can we talk for a minute?”

You feel Feyre’s confused blue eyes burning into your skin. The way that she slides her phone from her pocket like she’s trying not to make any sudden movements is not missed by you nor Azriel, but neither of you seem to care that she’s seconds away from messaging Rhys about this. You wonder if he knows, if Azriel had admitted anything to his roommates about you, about the night you shared together.

Lucien is tense, shoulders coiled tight. He’s almost glaring at Azriel but it doesn’t faze the onyx haired boy in the least, like he’s a speck of dust on his shoulder. Nothing can deter Azriel, of this you know. Somehow, he’s just as stubborn as you are, and the soft look in his eyes, pleading with you, makes your stomach twist.

“Sure,” you find yourself agreeing. You turn to your friend so you don’t have to witness the relief on his face. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. And I’ll see you in Art History, Fey.”

“You better,” your best friend mutters, already tapping away at her phone. She drags Lucien by the sleeve because he doesn’t seem inclined to leave you alone with Azriel despite you agreeing to speak with him. Azriel looks like he’s going to bare his teeth at the boy. “Come on, Luc.”

You start down the stairs of the building, going the opposite direction from your friends. You can feel Lucein’s sun and moon eyes on you as you walk, but you don’t turn around to look.

Azriel catches up to you in two great strides. You don’t know where you’re going, fine with waltzing around campus while you talk. You might need to text Feyre to bring you something to eat during class, because you’re getting hungry for lunch.

“I don’t like him,” Azriel mutters, and you can tell by the tight grip he has on the straps of his backpack.

“I don’t think you like anyone,” you respond, not unkindly, but it’s not a friendly remark either. It’s strange almost, to be seen with him in public not only after your public feud, but the night you’d spent together as well. It feels like a dirty little secret has come to light, and you don’t like it.

Azriel glances at you sidelong, but you refuse to meet his gaze. “I like you.”

You snort because he doesn’t even know you, not really. “You didn’t even like me two days ago, Azriel,” you start but he’s already shaking his head in disagreement, denying your accusations. “And with the way you up and left me in your room, I’m thinking there’s still a possibility that you don’t even like me now.”

He stops you with a gentle hand on your elbow, turning you to face him. You stumble at the suddenness of the move and it puts you a step closer to him than you’d like. His grip on your arm isn’t firm or demanding, it’s a soft caress that matches the pleading look in his honeyed eyes.

“Please,” he murmurs, and you can see just how much your avoidance has been bothering him. His fingers tremble along your arms and when you look down at them he pulls away, nervously tucking them into the pocket of his hoodie. It makes something in your chest crack a little. “I can explain.”

“Explain, then,” you answer simply.

Azriel shifts on his feet, glancing around. There are students milling about and you should probably keep walking or at least move out of the way, lest the both of you get mowed down by someone late to class or a biker. “Here?”

You quirk a brow.

He sighs a little, exasperated. “Can I take you somewhere? How about lunch?”

You study him. It’s clear that he wants to explain to you, and he looks just as stressed out about the situation as you are. And you really do want to hear what he has to say for himself, if his reason for leaving you is forgivable…

“Fine,” you relent, and his shoulders drop a notch. “But I have class this afternoon and I can’t be late.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Rita’s is the kind of place that you walk past and don’t go in.

The outside is a smidge better than decrepit, with its peeling paint and uneven sidewalk. There’s graffiti on the side of the building, tags you can hardly ready with how curvy and obnoxious the letters look. One of the windows has a shade, but it’s hanging by a thread and looks more like a hazard than not, and the rest of the windows are bare, sunlight pouring into the yellowing casement. You wouldn’t even know the place is open with its rusted neon sign so broken and sad.

But Azriel guides you in through the door with a hand on the small of your back and you blame the shiver that travels up your spine on the blast of cold air that hits you in the face when you step over the threshold.

Maybe you’ve been a little harsh on its exterior appearance because the inside is tidy. The air smells like greasy burgers and crunchy fries, and there’s a shiny jukebox in the corner playing an oldies song you think you’ve heard at one of Cassian’s parties once. Well, you heard it through the wall when the entirety of said party belted it at the top of their lungs and not even your headphones could block out the noise.

There’s an older man sitting at the counter and a girl who looks to be about your age behind the counter. She’s smacking her gum and doodling on her order pad, a half abandoned milkshake melting in the red cup beside her. She doesn’t even look up when Azriel leads you towards a booth, and you slide in opposite him with furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong?” He asks you, nervousness flicking through his eyes. He hesitates to sit down, awaiting your response.

“Nothing,” you assure him with a soft smile you don’t feel is genuine. “I didn’t even know this place was here, really.”

Azriel all but slumps onto the electric blue seat, eyes sparkling with delight. Your heart rate picks up at the sight of the little grin he offers you. It’s nice to see this side of him, happy and relaxed, in his element.

You wonder how he looks when he’s concentrated on a drawing, or a tattoo.

He’s got them covered up with his leather jacket today, though the tips of those coiling shadows around his collar bones peek out from the neckline of his black t-shirt and you think about how much you were coiled around each other the other night, skin to skin.

Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you look down at your lap.

“It’s great,” Azriel explains, slipping out of his jacket. You wish you had paid more attention to the artwork marking his skin the night you spent together but there hadn’t been much time to with the way you were all over each other, and he wasn’t around when you woke up. “Been coming here since freshman year.”

You’re about to respond when the waitress you’d seen arrives, slapping two menu’s down on the funky patterned table. You startle with the motion and shift uncomfortably when Azriel all but glares at the girl. She doesn’t seem to care though, flipping her stark white hair over her shoulder with a sneer.

Her brown eyes flit over you like you’re a piece of her chewed gum stuck under the table, then leans her hip against the edge of the table, flipping her order pad open. “I already know what you want,” he says haughtily to Azriel, and then those piercing brown eyes are on you, pinning you to your seat like it’s a trap from Saw. “What will you be having?”

“I, um, I’m not sure yet,” you stutter awkwardly, because you’re confused. Who is this and why is Azriel acting like this is normal? “I need to look at the menu.”

She rolls her eyes and the silence that ensues makes your face grow hot, sweat bead at your hairline. She crosses her arms over her chest, popping a bubble with her gum, and it’s as if she’s waiting for you to look at the menu and decide right now. You send a pleading look to Azriel whose jaw is ticking with annoyance.

“Give us a minute, will you, Cresseida? And let Rita know I’m here. Thanks.”

With another eye roll and an annoyed “Whatever,” Cresseida all but stomps away from your table. Your eyes trail her until she’s around the counter and pushing through the swinging doors to the kitchen.

“She seems…lovely,” you mutter, fingering the corner of the menu where it’s bent. “Seems like the kind of place you would’ve taken me when we didn’t like each other,” you tack on, squinting at the small font. Why are there so many items on the menu?

“I’m sorry about her,” Azriel blurts, and you think this is the first time you’ve ever seen him blush. It’s unfairly adorable. He offers you a hand, face up, and you can’t resist that look in his eyes, how he’s offering you his scarred hand instead of hiding it. With a short huff, you place your palm on his and he immediately intertwines your fingers, holding tight. It makes you blush. “She’s always been cranky,” he peers over his shoulder like she might be standing right behind him. “I promise, Rita is much nicer.”

You give him a forced smile because honestly, you’re not sure what else to say to that. You’re not even sure you’re all that hungry anymore, with Cresseida’s off putting attitude and the nerves that are gnawing on your stomach from the talk you’re about to have with Azriel.

You busy yourself with looking at the menu. There are way too many options and not enough time to decide because a short, stocky woman is trapezing her way around the countertop and towards your table, her eyes glowing with joy.

“Azriel, what brings you back so soon? Oh—and who is this lovely lady?” Her eyes fall across your intertwined fingers and she fails to stifle the beaming grin that appears on her red lips. You can tell that she’s a gem by appearance alone, but also in the way that she looks at Azriel, like he’s the son she’s never had. You can’t help but to smile at her. Her round face is flush with a permanent blush and she looks like the kind of woman you’d love to hug.

“Rita, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Rita, the owner of Rita’s Diner.”

“Very nice to meet you,” you greet eagerly, trying to pull your hand away from Azriel’s to shake her hand. He doesn’t let go, and smirks at the glare you shoot his way.

“(Y/N) as in…” Rita trails off, flicking a glance at Azriel. You narrow your eyes at him, curious as to what he’s told her about you. She continues, “As in your girlfriend, Azriel?”

You almost splutter, cheeks going red hot at her insinuation.

Azriel doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, admiring the color to your cheeks and the shock in your eyes. “Not yet.”

Not yet.

But maybe soon, when he finally explains himself.

Rita winks at him and you really want to bury your face in the menu right now.

“What can I get for you, darlin’?” Rita asks, her voice sweet as cherry pie.

“I don’t know, there are so many options…” you trail off, sending a pleading look towards Azriel. “Almost too many to choose from.”

Rita’s chest swells with pride and Azriel snickers.

“Cass prefers the pancakes,” he supplies, “But I think the waffles are better.”

“Pancakes, it is,” you beam, handing Rita back the menu. Azriel glares playfully and Rita seems positively overjoyed as she makes her way back to the kitchen.

Your smiles fade with Rita’s cheerful attitude and it’s all too soon that you’re aware you’re holding Azriel’s hand and he still hasn’t explained. You look at him and he’s already sighing. There are dark circles under his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, and you can tell that he hadn’t slept well last night either.

Azriel strokes a thumb across your knuckles and your tense shoulders ease a bit. The embarrassment you’d felt when you woken up alone in his bed has simmered with his eagerness to explain to you what happened that morning, but you’re still feeling a bit tender about it, especially when you see the pained look on Azriel’s face.

Whatever had happened hadn’t been good.

And you feel like a fool when he answers your question lingering between the both of you.

“The reason I wasn’t there that morning was because my father was in town. He came to see me.”

You try to swallow back the sudden rage boiling up from your stomach. The man who’d let his step-sons burn Azriel’s hands. The one who doesn’t want him to follow his dreams, his passions, when he clearly has the skill to do something amazing with them. The one who didn’t even visit him that night of the incident.

You squeeze his hand and Azriel seems to relax, understanding your forgiveness. Your throat is still tight when you respond, forcing the word out. “Okay…”

It gives him room to continue, even though Azriel looks like he’d rather face Cresseida’s wrath again.

“He found interest in purchasing and renovating our apartment building.”

You blink, not sure you’ve heard him correctly. “What?” You tack on, defensively. “Why?”

Azriel shrugs. To keep me in fucking check. He sighs as if the tremendous weight on his shoulders is two seconds away from crushing him completely. You don’t like that frown on his face and you don’t like his father.

“He thinks it’s a good investment opportunity, I guess.”

You don’t like the sound of this one bit, and Azriel agrees with you.

“And if he does buy it?”

Azriel shakes his head sadly, “No more neighbors.”

You didn’t think the thought of not being his next door neighbor would hit you so hard. Your chest aches with the idea of it, no longer sharing a wall. Even though you despised it at the beginning, you’ve gotten used to and even like the fact that you share a wall now.

Rita comes back and sets a plate of hot pancakes in front of you and a stack of blueberry waffles in front of Azriel. Everything smells delicious and your mouth waters at the sight of the thick pat of butter melting its way across the top of your breakfast.

She places a milkshake between you and Azriel, and there’s no missing the two neon colored straws sticking out of the top. You blush, thanking her.

She winks in response. “Enjoy, you two.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthrongirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl

#acotar #midnight muse #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #art school au #artist!azriel

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1lostsoul0fishbowl · 7 months

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Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by the absolutely lovely @staceymcgillicuddy and my wondrous darling @pearlypairings - thank you both! 🥰

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

15, 13 of which are complete and the last two very nearly finished. 😭

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

365,528 and counting. I’m a rambler!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only Stranger Things… nothing else has grabbed my attention quite the way s4 did.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

With a Little Help From My Friends (my ultra-long found family fic)

Why Should I Cry For You (that one surprised me, it came from way behind!)

Not-so-iron Maiden (Eddie & Max sibling supremacy)

Tattoos and Trash Talk (Eddie and El bonding)

the shield and the shepherd (my very first fic! Eddie and Chrissy falling in love without Vecna in the way)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I’m absolutely tickled every time somebody likes something I wrote enough that they take the time to leave me a comment about it. I’ve even made a few friends that way!

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Into the Shining Sun? Even then, it’s angst with a very hopeful note to it. There’s enough angst in my real life; I like everything in my fics to turn out okay.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

So far, With a Little Help, because it ended with Eddie and Chrissy’s wedding!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully, I haven’t. I honestly think it will break my heart if it ever happens. I stumbled completely by accident across a post here on tumblr hating on GreatMage and I literally cried about that for two days. (Shameful!)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope, I live firmly in the fluff zone. All of my fics are rated a very mild T.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Haven’t tried one yet, but maybe someday, if I can think of a good idea!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. How would I even know that? 🤔

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet, but @pearlypairings and I have kicked around a few fun ideas and someday we are going to make Clarkelley happen!

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

This is a nearly impossible question.

15. What’s a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I’ve only got two WIPs and they’re both almost done, so— none!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Omg, I don’t even know, honestly. Umm… I guess building friendships and relationships between characters?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Anything outside of my comfort zone. I have a tiny little box I tend to stay in, and refuse to even try branching out.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

With the help of Google Translate, I’ve scattered some bits of Welsh dialogue here and there throughout Next Time I Fall. Apparently I got most of it wrong. So I don’t think I’ll try any other languages unless I’m actually familiar with them!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Probably X-Files? And then there was that random embarrassing NSYNC stuff… we won’t talk about that. Those were all just scribbled in old journals, though. I never actually posted anything publicly until I found Ao3 last year.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I think each one is my favorite while I’m working on it! But I think I have to say Next Time I Fall, because the response to it was so much more than I expected, and people’s engagement with and investment in the story has given me so much joy.

Randomly tagging @tnmdfhgkg @saltyseagoat83 @sokkas-first-fangirl

and for anyone else who sees this and feels like sharing, 🫵 *boop* I tag you!

#stranger things fanfiction #ao3 writer #hellcheer #greatmage #fluffy fic #losty writes

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underacalicosky · 6 months

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20 Question Fic Writer Tag

Yayyy! Thanks for tagging me @grapenehifics 😁 And thanks to @ineffable-snowman for tagging me too! ❤️

How many works do you have on ao3?

I only have six Obikin fics on AO3, which isn’t a lot, but I’m hoping to write more! I’ve posted fics for a different fandom that I’m no longer active in, but that was a lifetime ago and I don’t monitor those fics anymore.

2.) What's your ao3 word count?

AO3 says 107,086. I know that’s not a lot compared to some folks, but it’s more than I thought I’d get to when I started writing again a few months ago.

3.) What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, only Prequels/Clone Wars Star Wars, and only Obikin because they’ve taken over my brain. And mainly modern AUs, but I have couple ideas that are in the Star Wars universe.

4.) What are your top five fics by kudos?

Cruel Summer (Intern AU) - 175

Edge of Greatness (Figure skating AU) - 132

The Next Model (Top Model AU) - 125

Heartbreak Prince (Same age HS AU) - 70

In Good Hands (Hairstylist AU) - 69

5.) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, I always respond to comments! I try to respond within a few days. But yes, I love comments. I’m grateful that someone would take the time to not only read my fics, but to also leave a note or an emoji or wall of text 😭 so I try to show my appreciation by responding. Sometimes I’ll get a comment that’s really touching and I’ll reread it when I’m having a bad day. I love when I get into little side convos or hearing about headcanons in the comments!

6.) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I’m incapable of writing anything but a happy ending for Obikin. I want so badly for them to find peace and joy together, whether that’s through lots of cuddles and sex or a platonic life-long friendship.

7.) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of them? 😁 I like to end my fics in a way where they’re at a good place, and afterward they run off and have more adventures and I might not know exactly what they’re up to, but I know they’re happy.

8.) Do you get hate on fics?

Not since I’ve written for the SW and Obikin fandom. Everyone here has been wonderful and encouraging and kind of feral in the most amazing way. I can’t tell you how much I love love love the positive vibes.

It wasn’t always like that in my previous fandom and I eventually left. Although, it wasn’t really hate. I started getting comments about how I wasn’t incorporating certain extreme kinks (which I didn’t know how to write), sort of suggesting that what I wrote wasn’t interesting. And there were plenty of writers who did write those kinks so it was a little baffling. I’m a firm believer that everyone should be able to read or write whatever they like without judgment or shame, but it got to the point where my confidence took a huge hit and I wasn’t having fun anymore.

9.) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do write smut! Soft, fluffy, vanilla smut where they look at each other with hearts in their eyes. If my smut were a cake, it would be funfetti.

10.) Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No, but I like putting them modern AUs so maybe the Top Model fic is kind of a crossover?

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I didn’t realize this was a thing. How do I know if a fic has been stolen?

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

A couple years after I left my previous fandom, someone reached out and asked if they could translate one of my fics into a different language. It was really heartwarming and humbling to hear that something I wrote resonated with someone enough to make them want to translate it and share it. I said yes, but I’m not sure I ever got the link to the translated version.

13.) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I co-wrote a big bang with another author for my previous fandom. It was a lot of fun and someone made a playlist to go with our fic. We had similar writing styles, to the point that our betas got confused over who wrote which chapters.

14.) What's your all time favorite ship?

Probably Obikin. Their dynamic is so intriguing to me. There’s endless possibilities. Plus, the authors in this fandom are so freaking talented and creative and that fuels my love for them.

15.) What's a WIP you'd like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I don’t have too many WIP at the moment. I only have two that have actual words, the rest are ideas that haven’t solidified yet. But I plan to finish the ones I’ve started writing.

16.) What are your writing strengths?

I’m terrible at self-assessments. I like to think that I can create a feeling of longing or pining. I love a slow burn, especially a friends to lovers type relationship, and that’s where I like to live with the things I write. There’s that phase where they’re both too afraid to tell the other how they feel. But they stare longingly and wonder if the other’s thinking of them too. And maybe there’s miscommunication or an ill-conceived reason for why they can’t be together that leads to some mild angst before they confess their love and fuck all gentle and sweet.

17.) What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing anything that has a complex plot or interwoven side plots. I’m very linear and simplistic. I’m always so impressed when I read something and the plot has been intricately planned and the little details tie together in the end. These are truly talented writers. Like, you should be publishing novels and getting paid. If I had more time and brain space, I’d love to try planning something more complex someday.

18.) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I’m not against it, but I can barely post anything without typos in English so I wouldn’t trust myself to include dialogue in another language.

19.) First fandom you wrote for?

X-files, Mulder/Scully. I didn’t post it to gossamer. I just had it on my computer and was too scared to show it to anyone.

20.) Favorite fic you've ever written?

This is tough, and it’s going to be a long and rambly answer.

Definitely the fics I’ve written for Obikin are my favorites. And if I had to pick one of them, it would probably be Edge of Greatness, only because it was the first thing I posted to AO3 in about 12 years.

I started writing fics again a few months ago as a way to do something for myself because most of my life revolves around taking care of my family. I had the idea in my head for about a month before I finally dusted off my old 2008 Macbook and wrote the whole thing in about three weeks. It was such a freeing feeling to be writing again, but I still had that criticism in my head. At that time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to share it once I finished it, but I also was trying to challenge myself.

I took baby steps. I got a new AO3 account and sat on it for a week before I began uploading the first few chapters. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. My hands were shaking when I posted the first four chapters knowing that they would be out there in the world. I was convinced that no one would read them and I was okay with that because the goal I set for myself was to post and not care what other people thought. But the next morning I saw that I had kudos and comments and had a nice little cry. Some people, like @grapenehifics left comments in every chapter and I can’t put into words what that meant to me. So I’m not sure that it’s my best fic, but it holds special meaning to me and I’ll always love it for that reason.

I’m tagging anyone who writes fics and wants to share! I love reading these types of responses! ❤️

#thanks for the tag!

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linesonscreens · 4 months

Text

Let's Read Peanuts (Yes, all of it) - February 1953

There are lots of great strips I just don't have room to comment on. I strongly encourage everybody to read the full month at the official GoComics page. Today's month starts HERE.

Feb 5, 1953

Today: “Last night on the internet I read an AI-generated Sonic The Hedgehog erotic fanfic with ten million views”

Feb 6, 1953

I know that those are supposed to be weird thought balloons but it looks like Snoopy just talks now.

Feb 11, 1953

Bah, what's this nonsense? Schroeder never complained!

Feb 14, 1953

First Valentine comic? Maybe?? I really should have made a list of things to look out for when I started. -_-'

Feb 17, 1953

OK, so apparently “Ivanhoe” was a novel written in 1819 by Walter Scott. It's been adapted several times in various formats including an early 1940's comic book and a 1952 live action film.

Film trailer here.

I'd link to the comic but ~for some reason~ nobody bothered to scan and upload a 80+ year old comic nobody's ever hear of onto the internet. Rude!

Feb 21, 1953

Paperboy comics continue to be good.

Feb 27, 1953

Time is a flat circle.

Thoughts:

Apparently the only way to read that Ivanhoe comic (that I've been able to find) is to buy a physical copy off of eBay somewhere and consume it the old-fashioned way. Which is kind of a shame, right? I mean, would it have been especially good or noteworthy? Probably not, but reading a few issues would have been a fun way to get a peek into Schulz's mind and get a feel for the comics he was influenced by.

This kind of thing actually bothers me quite a bit and it's a topic that's been on my mind a lot lately. Think about it like this. Ctrl+Alt+Del is not a particularly good webcomic, but think about how many loss.jpg references have been made in various forms of media over the last couple decades that would simply stop making sense if the original comic were to become inaccessible.

All media is connected. Artists are constantly drawing inspiration from and commenting on works that came before and understanding these influences is a key part of decoding any given work. This is true not only for popular media that everybody agrees is good but also for the absolute garbage that may have been your favorite creator's guilty pleasure. It ALL matters, and it should ALL be available for anybody who's interested. Which is why it makes me irrationally angry when I'm reminded that access to older media can be such a huge crapshoot.

Anyways, I guess my call to action is to... upload more old comics? Sure let's go with that. Maybe support some of the groups archiving old stuff while you're at it. Art is cool, and we should be doing more to let people actually see it.

#peanuts #comics #charles schulz #comic strips #peanuts comics #lets read #charlie brown #patty #snoopy #shermy #Linus #Schroeder #Ivanhoe #fun fact I hate the loud house so much I almost started another blog dedicated to shitting on every episode independently #Over time the blog would have slowly degenerated into a house of leaves style descent into madness. Fanfiction would be involved.

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greetings-inferiors · 11 months

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Hey, I realize you do like maths. As someone who didnt go through highschool but got a highschool degree with only REALLY BASIC maths knowledge, I wanna ask: - Any advice or recommendations for someone who wants/needs to catch up/go from elementary to highschool maths ASAP many years after dropping the subject?

It seems to be an interesting subject but I had teachers that were so bad at teaching and so good at shaming and traumatizing that it blocked me and made me avoid maths like the plague, I do want to start over with maths and try again while making it a good experience this time, I need advice. Pls help. (anonymous cause embarrassed to admit I can barely get around with the basic 4 operations and begin getting lost when it goes into fractions, decimals, porcentages etc, and as a college student I should know advanced stuff like factoration and complex expressions by now)

I am incredibly blessed with the fact that I love maths, and had great teachers. I don’t really know how to get good at maths because by the time I was actually conscious about liking maths, I was already pretty good at it. I never had that thing of having to be better, because I’ve always just been good at it, and the things that I didn’t know I enjoyed learning so I just learnt them.

The problem with having to relearn something is that you FEEL like you’re better than you are. I stopped learning Japanese for a few months, and when I come back to it, I’ll have to go over basic kanji again, my brain tells me that I know it, but I don’t. I need to go over the basics, but before I learnt the basics with the spark of learning pushing me through. Now I’ve got to essentially revise something I forgot. It sucks.

What I’d recommend, is by jumping into the deep end. There are lots of maths videos on YouTube, and they’re really interesting, but you won’t understand anything. But that’s fine, because the things you don’t understand, you can watch videos about those. And the parts of those you don’t understand you can research into that. It may not be the most efficient way to learn, but eventually you will. Trial by fire and all that, and it might be more fun because you’re looking at stuff that interests you! You’ll find that the simple stuff actually has rather complex and interesting explanations, which I find really cool.

If you want to relearn quickly, then you just have to study. It sucks, but that’s just how it is. I don’t know what elementary school is, I assume it’s 11-14, and high school probably means gcse, which is 15-16.

Some basic tips:

Think of the operators as logically as possible. When you see 5x15, literally think of 15 added together 5 times. Think of 6/20 as 6 lots of 1/20 (which itself is 0.05. Maybe even think of it as 1/2 times 1/10.) basically just think of the operators as simply as possible until you’re able to think of them as their own thing. Then you can start introducing indices, square roots, etc.

Don’t be afraid of using a calculator (learning how to use a calculator effectively will massively boost your mathematical literacy).

write everything down (don’t rely on your mental maths. If you literally have to do every single equation on a piece of paper (assuming calculators aren’t allowed), do it. Never trust your mental maths until you’re certain that you’ve got good mental maths. Seriously, 90% of mistakes come from trying to make a shortcut in your head and messing up. Many people, my self included in the past, see writing down your working out as a sign of weakness, it isn’t.

Try to avoid the divisor symbol as much as possible, it isn’t actually an operator, it’s shorthand for fractions (the dots are placeholders for the things in front and behind). Honestly, you should prioritise getting comfortable with fractions. They’re really useful, especially in algebra.

If you get good at algebra, you’ll be good at almost everything maths can throw at you. Being able to rearrange equations is a skill that you will literally never not use. It also helps you with regular number equations because you can think of the numbers as variables. It sounds weird or as if you’re complicating it, but it can help.

(A/B)*C=(A*C)/B. It’s surprising how useful it is, and how often I’ll forget about it lmao

Look into geometry! Everything you do in maths can and has been described with shapes. And for some people that can help them visualise it! If shapes help you with maths, look into shapes! Geometry!

Factorisation is essentially just the reverse of multiplication. (2*5*7)=70, therefore the prime factors of 70 are 2,5, and 7. The same applies to algebra. Just think of what could be multiplied together to make x^2+3x+2. And hey, there’s a really handy formula for finding out the factors of quadratics that I highly recommend memorising if you think you’ll need it!

And most of all: try and have fun! Basic maths can be very tedious, but think of it like learning a language. Once you get the alphabet (numbers) and grammar (operators) out of the way, you’ll start to see all of the complex words and phrases you can create, and understand. And, best of all, you will NEVER stop learning, so you may as well start now!

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chawarin-panich · 1 year

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I posted 3,054 times in 2022

That's 155 more posts than 2021!

635 posts created (21%)

2,419 posts reblogged (79%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mr-iskender

wizardpotions

@chawarin-panich

@lelephantsnail

I tagged 2,821 of my posts in 2022

Only 8% of my posts had no tags

#pterodactyl screeching - 520 posts

#big dragon the series - 100 posts

#nani answers - 94 posts

#zeenunew - 90 posts

#the eclipse series - 72 posts

#cutie pie the series - 63 posts

#akkayan - 58 posts

#mangkornyai - 48 posts

#not me the series - 47 posts

#kinnporsche - 42 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and maybe a lot of that has to do with ellie but gaon finds with yohan and ellie things he’s always missed in his relationship with soohyun

My Top Posts in 2022:

generally i am a huge advocate for shows having more light and i am full of gratitude to every giffer who has let me watch that akkayan kiss all brightened and colored beautifully

...but something about the darkness in that scene hits so different. It's so purposeful, the themes of shame, longing and rebellion that is harbored within that darkness.

Akk is finally letting something come out of himself that he has held back long before Ayan was even in the picture. This kiss is about Ayan and its about more than just Ayan. It's Akk - who's so good at holding himself back, so good at destroying himself for what he's been taught is justice and good morals - deciding that something else comes first.

And maybe Akk needed darkness and maybe he needed Ayan to close the gap, to desire him back first [for real]- but Akk shows none of Ayan's timidity or confusion during the kiss. He's known all along what he desires. He desires Ayan, of course he does, but he desires perhaps even more to be there for him and comfort him - Akk has always wanted to help Ayan and in his own way has done nothing but help him.

The way those first scenes in episode 6 used fire to show how Akk's love and compassion was destroying himself - and at the end its within darkness that those soft parts of him are born anew because often its within darkness that queer love is allowed to nurture and grow

207 notes - Posted September 20, 2022

See the full post

235 notes - Posted November 5, 2022

all jokes aside i have been incredibly impressed with the way the love scenes have gone in big dragon. Yes in the technical sense (aesthetics, editting, music) but especially in the narrative sense. The sex in big dragon pushes the narrative forward in quite big ways and reveals things about the characters. Which falls really well in line with the theme of BDSM, a lot of which is about trust and vulnerability. I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting Mangkorn to use the videos to lure Yai back to his house. And initially, I didn't really know what to think or feel about it. But damn if i don't feel sorry for Mangkorn in that moment.

Look at Yai, Mangkorn wants him to answer because Mangkorn wants him to accept it, but Mangkorn doesn't need Yai to answer to know that Yai likes him. And the fact that Yai doggedly refuses till the very end, that he chooses to walk away must have...hurt. The show has already established Mangkorn as someone who wouldn't violate consent, who wouldn't take it by coercion. The blowjob scene was played for jokes but this was its main purpose, to show that Mangkorn is playing around with him, but Mangkorn isn't trying to control him even though he very well could.

So the sheer amount of desperation in this had me lying on the floor.

See the full post

238 notes - Posted November 5, 2022

wait a second lemme just-

See the full post

729 notes - Posted November 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

That feeling when you read a fanfic that’s just right, that’s just what you needed and your entire soul sort of just lights up with the possibilities and miracles the universe has to offer

4,169 notes - Posted August 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #i will be honest i didnt think i reblogged alex very often #but yay #100 posts about big dragon

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gravedangerahead · 2 years

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8,11, and 20 for the book asks!

All questions here

8. what is the first book you remember reading yourself?

Two of my earliest favorites were Pippi Longstocking and O Fantástico Mistério de Feiurinha, although I probably read this pretty little collection with 5 or 6 fairy tale books that my grandma gave me before that, sice they were way shorter.

Out of those books the Pippi trilogy are the only ones I still own, which is a shame.

11. what non-fiction books do you like if any?

I used to have a lot of difficulty finishing whole non-fiction books, and the first one I remember finishing with eagerness and enjoyment was Angela Davis' Women, Race and Class. I was only supposed to read one chapter for an elective in college but it was amazing so I just kept going.

This year I actually read a few non-fiction books, maybe now that I'm not in college any more that non-fiction slot of my brain was freed for books of my choosing. I read more of the amazing Angela Davis (Freedom is a Constant Struggle in January and Are Prisons Obsolete last month).

I read a couple of things about Brazilian politics. Sabrina Fernandes is an ecosocialist and Ailton Krenak is an indigenous intellectual. I wanna read more by both. I definitely need to read way more about politics, I'm really clueless about it.

And possibly my favorite book of the year was The Dawn of Everything by David Graeber and David Wengrow, which is a book about pre-history written by an archeologist and an anthropologist, gathering the last few decades of research in their fields to go up against the myths we perpetuate about (pre)history and human nature. It shows how diverse and changeable human societies have always been and how we've always had the capacity for political imagination and to thoughtfully and deliberately change the way we live (for better or for worse). Humans were always human, infinitely complex, and not a caricature of pure naive good or violent chaotic evil that serves as convenient origin story for humanity today.

You know how before reading this I was already banging on about how much I hate the Hobbes vs. Rousseau divide that's still prevalent in people's beliefs, and the idea that there's one set human nature, either good and selfless or evil and self-centered. The authors also counter that but, you know, in an actually coherent, well founded way.

The book also goes into how much American Indigenous thought influenced our current ideas about freedom, equality and democracy, and their intellectual contributions get dismissed as just Europeans lying and projecting onto a "noble savage" figure. People in the Americas did in fact have a lot thoughts, criticisms and theories about European society and their own once they came into contact, and Europeans did have their world view impacted by them, although frequently in trying to dismiss their criticism more than accept it.

I'm really going way beyond the question here, right? Sorry lol

I started reading Debt: The First 5,000 Years, also by David Graeber, and really enjoyed it, but it was really expensive so I haven't bought it yet, after finishing the sample. I do have a PDF, but that's bad for reading the footnotes, and I really, really love footnotes, I wanna read all of them as I go.

20. what are things you look for in a book?

I'm mostly drawn to characters and prose first, themes second, and plot and world building third. Characters that I care about or am interested in and/or beautiful language will get me through basically anything. It's okay if nothing makes sense, I'll just vibe.

See: This is How You Lose the Time War and Água-Viva / The Stream of Life by Clarisse Lispector.

Lolita is another example, I guess, since the language and caring about Dolores gets me through the horrors.

Also why I'm absolutely obsessed with Machado de Assis. Beautiful language and endlessly fascinating characters that I hate and adore.

#answered asks #ask game #Rapha rambles #a lot #book asks #literature #I'm sorry I never learned how to be brief #long post

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thegirlthemumthelady · 2 years

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Do you find it difficult to see the silver lining when drowning in life? Me too. I’ve learned that if I experience happiness, even in little bits, I have a better outlook on my life. I can see my blessings more clearly.

Most recently, I feel like I’ve lost my meaning in life. I know it sounds intense, but it is kind of extreme when you think about it. Ya see, I chose my career when I was little, about 5 or 6 years old. I went through life with this career always in the back of my mind, even when I had to take different paths to make ends meet. Still, I dreamed of the occupation of a lifetime, Motherhood. I wanted to be a stay-at-home and make my family and my home the job. So I did.

Slowly but surely, what that looks like morphs because it has to because it’s supposed to. Although rationally, I knew/know that it doesn’t make it any easier when your career is ending. I mean, of course, the day-to-day micromanaging that is motherhood.

Now there is just a lot of nothing. Yes, I have hobbies, but that doesn’t negate the very real loss that goes on in your heart when you get to that place where they no longer need you to MOM them anymore. It is a very tangible loss.

I suffered another significant loss recently. Although my mum had a beautiful assisted death, the whole event came sooner than I was ready for. So I suppressed pain because that’s how I survive.

Shortly before that, my estranged Father passed. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with me and proved that in his final days, hours and in his will. He said nothing about me or to me, and that's hard to digest, but I suppressed pain because that’s how I survive.

I have experienced devastating sexual assault trauma throughout my life and was alone with it. I have experienced a traumatic divorce, relationship struggles, mum failures regarding my kids and great financial debt. I suppressed the pain because that's how I survive.

I get caught up in day-to-day survival and need to push down those intense negative feelings in order to wake up every morning. Something I wasn’t always sure was gonna happen. But it did.

I don’t tell you all this for sympathy. I am writing this because I know I am not the only one who has experienced these things. And I know some are experiencing this stuff right now.

I want to speak to you; about a silver lining. If you woke up today and you’re reading this, you made it one more day. I am happy you’re here and proud of you for making it another day. If you thought yesterday was hard or it was never gonna end. Well, it did, and here you are.

I'm no expert. I'm just a mum, damn near 50 and just scratching the surface of experiencing my happiness. Why so late? Because I suppressed pain to survive. The problem is, I got really good at suppressing. So good, in fact, that I started suppressing happiness too.

It gets really comfortable in survival mode; the distraction and the masks all become more comfortable than moving away from that. It feels easier to feel bad. So take your time. Feel the feels, but please don’t stay there too long. It’ll put you in a funk, and that funk will become like muscle memory. It gets harder and harder to see the good stuff, things that used to make you happy.

For me, it feels like wearing mirrored sunglasses backwards. And all I can see is my sad and injured self, and feel shame about not being where I think I should be, where I want to be.

To be clear, I don’t mean “go get a hobby,” “think positive,” or even “get over it.” I just want you to TRY to experience happiness. A little bit at a time, in your own time, at your own speed. Those experiences are different for everyone. It can be as simple as someone smiling at you or holding the door for you. Maybe a dog is friendly, a baby's giggle, maybe it’s Tiktok or anything else that makes you smile inside. And it’s totally private. No one but you knows what you’re experiencing.

When happiness comes, jump in with both feet. Allow yourself to feel the good feelings, like a swim in a cool lake on a hot summer day. Splash around in the happiness. Let it wash over you. Hold your breath and submerge yourself in it.

I have learned that even though happy experiences might be fleeting. I am better for embracing them when they happen. Letting myself feel good feelings even while going through tough shit is what helps me to survive. It’s good for my spirit. It helps me not only make it to the next day but also to SEE the goodness of the next day.

The first step is to get through to the next day. Eventually, I will be able to enjoy and experience every day as it happens. I am currently peaceful every day and calm all the time. However, I am still working on genuinely experiencing happiness every day.

So each day, I pick at least one thing that makes me happy and experience it fully. Probably overthinking 'cause that’s who I am, but it seems to work so far.

I recently got in a funk again; it happens. As a result, I binged YouTube for the day, ate the wrong foods and cried a lot. I didn’t remember to pat myself on the back for my 2 years of no smoking. Self-love and self-care are uber important in experiencing happiness too. Bathing or showering, changing the bed sheets, and burning candles or incense can make the place smell nice. For me, particularly, a road trip. Things that feel good for me today help make the next day shine a little brighter.

I woke up one morning feeling good after a bad day and decided to make another change. Now I am 2 years of no alcohol. This decision was simply for health benefits. I'm sick of heartburn, and my gut is not happy the following day, so I figured, why bother? Anyway, I'm rambling now. I'm not sure why I'm posting this, but maybe it'll resonate with someone.

Friedrich Nietzsche said it well, “To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.”

#mum advice #i love you #hang on #I'm glad you stayed

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self-made-cages · 2 years

Text

so I’ve been thinking about Midnights...

...and all of the things that Taylor could cover in 13 tracks written in the dark of the night. For my own general amusement, I compiled a track list of what it would be if I were Taylor. Disclaimer: I am not Taylor, and I don’t know any more about her or her life than the average really-big-fan. Therefore, this list is based solely on publicly available facts and details from old music that I want to dig into more. The list is sorted based on hypothetical topic for reference.

*For legal purposes, this should be considered strictly bullshit.*

Without further ado: Midnights (morgan’s version)

The Joe tracks:

1. The 2016 Pining Track: It’s a staple in the T/J love song repertoire. I don’t care if it’s what happens after Dive Bar Night or the 28th Night of September or sexting over Words with Friends at midnight in Australia (time zone plot twist!), I want more details from the beginning and I want them now. 2. The Super Sexy Song: It’s Dress and ITHK and KOMH but with half a decade of additional practice. At the time of this writing, Mr. Alwyn has been in our girl’s life for exactly 6 years’ worth of midnights. This is gonna be good. 3. The Moment of Doubt: It’s when things got tough, maybe in the early, still-catching-feelings stage or in summer 2018 when miss ma’am is on tour and learning that long distance with your soulmate is tough. Tell us, what really happened when you left Cornelia Street, before he even knew you were gone? 4. The Together Forever One: If they’re married by Oct 21, it’s the proposal story (he did it at midnight, of course. New Year’s proposal?). If they’re still secretly engaged, it’s musing on how she’ll give him a child and give him her wild. Either way, it makes little lover look downright youthful. I’m swooning already.

Career:

5. The Golden Birdcage: Critical evaluation on the metaphor that has (almost) appeared on every album since Speak Now. It’s crippling self-doubt and evaluation of exit strategy. I can’t be sassy about this one because it’s heartbreaking. A likely candidate for Track 5.

6. The Fuck the Patriarchy Zinger: Shame on all the men who have tried to push her down. If Taylor Nation has any leftover stock of the keychains, they can reissue! I regret not buying one last year.

7. The Re-Records Retrospective: Is it a retrospective if you’re only 1/3 of the way through? When Taylor dodged the question from Seth Meyers about how re-recording Red felt, the details of her most emotionally intense project to-date were left secret. Those details belong here.

Family/Childhood:

8. The College Degree: “I sometimes feel like my college degree is in acting like I’m ok when I’m not.” It’s a what-if scenario mixed with Mirrorball and Nothing New. It’s the one that makes you want to hold her and softly tell her she’s done a good job (while also crying your eyes out).

9. The Teenage Throwback: Midnights for debut-era Taylor probably involved worrying about curfew. It’s a cross between fifteen and 22; I’d call it Edge of 17 if that wasn’t already taken (maybe that’s where the Stevie Nicks rumors came from).

10. The Parent Track: The easy answer is despair over illness, but I don’t think that story could be told any better than Soon You’ll Get Better (and I don’t know that I can handle the tears if I’m wrong here). I vote for a grown-up take on “careless man’s careful daughter.” Even the best parents fuck us up sometimes.

Life. And other Concerns.

11. The Halloween Fright: It’s not actually about Halloween, but the demons and lanterns she’s chasing them away with aren’t funny at all unless you frame it up this way. I’m afraid of nightmares; sometimes I’m too scared to go to sleep. This song will say that in a way that makes Taylor Swift the greatest poet of our age and me an anxious little girl on tumblr. Runner up for Track 5.

12. The Cinderella Story: The clock strikes 12 and the coach turns back into a pumpkin. Being America’s Princess means wearing a lot of glass slippers. Today was a fairytale, but tonight was worrying about happily never after.

13. The Drinking Song: “I’ve been thinking a lot about addiction.” It’s not an IBYTAM-style bop, it’s This is Me Trying... and trying... and trying. She asked the traffic lights if it’d be alright; they didn’t know, so she went home and started asking the walls. This is definitely a song for people with feelings, but it’s not Track 5.

P.S. Remember what Taylor once said about throwing away fear-based check-listing? Her music ascended to a whole new level once she did that; I can’t wait to see what she does with this record, far and away from the silly checklist above.

#taylor swift #midnights #ts10 #tracklist #MorganSpeaksNow

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astrobydalia · 3 years

Text

🌸OBSERVATIONS!! (finally lmao)🌱

Credit: Tumblr blog @astrobydalia

It's been a long time coming! So happy for spring being finally here! Here's the long ass observation post you guys asked for. Since it's quite a big amount of observations, I've decided it'd be a good idea to number them so that it's easier to reference them. As always, enjoy them!

🌸 1. Lilith in the 2nd house can indicate something fishy going on with the relationship between the native’s parents.

🌱 2. Malefic placements such as pluto, chiron, Saturn or Lilith in the 12th indicates a lot of skeletons in the closet when it comes to family and family history

🌸 3. Chiron in Aries/1st house or Leo/5th house is kind of bitch placement. The person basically feels like they can’t be themselves and there’s a lot of self-denial and/or not accepting themselves, how they really are, what they really want, etc. Lots of self-esteem issues

🌱 4. People with sexual placements in the 2nd house (Mars, Venus, Lilith, Eros, ruler of the 8th house) base their self-worth on how sexually attractive they are. If they don't feel sexually desirable to everyone, they feel like they're shit

🌸 5. Lilith is what people think Pluto/Scorpio is!!!! All that stuff about magnetic, sexual and intoxicating but dangerous? Lilith.

🌱 6. Scorpio/Pluto in 4th could mean that the person had to work hard to survive something growing up. It could be poverty, their parents’ expectations, an early trauma, etc. Whatever the situation is, the native felt like they grew up in a high-stress environment where they had to endure and survive

🌸 7. When it comes to degrees, the higher the degree, the bigger or stronger the effect. For example Leo degrees (5º, 17º, 29º) are fame degrees. 5th degree would give small fame, 17th degree would be normal and significant fame or recognition inside the person’s field and 29th degree is moreso widespread or permanent fame

🌱 8. Saturn in the 5th house is a huge indicator of turning your hobby into your job. Also these people can be very awkward in their personality

🌸 9. I’ve noticed people with Neptune in the 6th (maybe 2nd) house may have been hospitalized and if Uranus or Pluto are placed here also indicates getting surgery or operations for health reasons

🌱 10. People with Uranus or Pluto in the 1st, 2nd or conjunct the ASC could get surgery due to aesthetic reason

🌸 11. Mercury dominant people (or strong Gemini energy in the chart) like to have or get things quick and easy. For example they prefer a straight forward summary over an in-depth and elaborated explanation with too many details

🌱 12. Your moon sign shows how you see your past. Your 4th house represent how you see your childhood. But your moon represents under which light you always view your past and everything that has happened in your life in general. It also shows the type of stuff from your past you tend to focus on. Since Cancer and Pisces represent past and remenaicence, that's why Cancer and Pisces moons have trouble getting over the past.

🌸 13. Your 10th house on the other hand is how you see your future. Whenever someone asks you “where you see yourself in 5 years?” your 10th house is the one that’ll be answering that question

🌱 14. Gemini moon/mars are the LEAST likely to hold grudges (unless chart says otherwise)

🌸 15. The house where you have your Neptune indicates the themes you tend to lie about, don’t give much info, say stuff about it that are misleading etc. and in consequence people might not have a clear/correct idea of this part of your life

🌱 16. Virgo risings rarely or basically never pose for pictures. They just look straight forward to the camera, sometimes smile and maybe make a small gesture like putting one hand in their pocket or tilt their head but that’s it. (Virgo = minimalism)

🌸 17. Scorpios really don’t give a single fuck they just DON’T 😭💀 Remember this sign is all or nothing, they either care too or don't care AT ALL

🌱 18. I said it once and I’ll say to a hundred times more: Geminis are not two-faced, it’s LIBRA!! Seriously Libras are the FAKEST people I’ve ever met. Why? Because it's ruled by the planet of love (Venus), which means Libra has a knack for being liked by everyone and making everyone feel liked. HOWEVER Libra is an AIR sign and air represents mind, NOT feelings. In conclusion, Libra can make you feel "loved" (venus) and still not give a damn about you bc its air nature makes them prone to emotional detachment. That's why they are able to roast you and make it look like they're complimenting you, specially when they have Scorpio mercury.

🌸 19. Just like you look at where’s the ruler of your rising sign to get more info on your rising, check the ruler of your Sun sign for more info on your personal identity (check sign and house). For ex. I have Virgo Sun in the 9th. Ruler of Virgo=Mercury. I have mercury in Libra in the 10th house which makes me more serious (10th house) and diplomatic/people pleaser (Libra)

🌱 20. If you found that you “couldn’t” do what’s previously described because you’re a Leo sun, check the degree and decan of your Sun

🌸 21. I’ve noticed mercury retrograde people are the type of individuals who always know exactly the right things to say. You’ll always see them take a couple of seconds before answering but they tend to give very good responses

🌱 22. I’ve noticed many women with Virgo Venus/Sun/MC/Lilith have been slut-shamed at some point of their life or they’ve been seen as promiscuous/sexual/etc.

🌸 23. Capricorn moons are not emotionless machines. The thing with these natives is that their mothers treated them like an adult the second they came out of the womb, so basically they skipped the “love and affection” stage and went straight to the “grow up” stage, but they can love really hard and real deep (Capricorn is deep down a very sentimental sign). They are very ride or die people tbh, they are very patient, accepting and understanding

🌱 24. I've noticed that people at first deny their rising sign in Vedic astrology, but eventually they end up accepting it and they actually end up relating to it a lot. I feel like this is because our rising sign in Vedic astrology is usually the sign of our 12th house in Western astrology, which leads me to believe that our 12th house sign is not our shadow side but more like our deep subcontious personality and that's why we have a hard time accepting it when we see it as our rising sign in Vedic astrology. It's like your rising sign (in western) is the director of the play but your 12th house is the energy that previously wrote the script

🌸 25. So many celebrities have moon in the 11th house. Also this placement indicates that you had a mother that put you out there constantly like posting everything about you on social media, bringing you to big events or your mom was “famous” in some capacity

🌱26. Gemini risings tend to believe everything they are told. More specifically, once they find someone that knows a little bit more than them they’ll believe everything they teach them and will most likely rely on them intellectually, for advice, guidance, etc. This is bc they have DSC in Sagittarius which makes them see the people they associate with as masters and mentors while, as a Gemini rising, they identify as an apprentice.

🌸27. Both 8th house and 12th house have been associated with secrets. The different is that the 8th house represents what you CONTIOUSLY and deliberately hide from others and most likely deny to yourself (or not, depends on the person). 12th house on the other hand represents subconscious, things that are hidden even from you and you didn’t even know were hidden. 4th house is not necessarily secrets, it represents privacy, like when people have a sanctuary to just relax, unwind and feel secure, that’s the 4th house.

🌱28. Sun or Moon in the 4th house will make you a sociable but private person.

🌸29. Sun or moon in the 8th house will make you an intriguing and mysterious person.

🌱30. Sun or moon the 12th house makes you a very elusive or wishy-washy person

🌸31. I’ve seen many Scorpio sun/moon/mars/rising individuals obsessed with the idea of being prepared for a catastrophe. They could be the type to, for example, have some saved cash just in case something bad happens with their bank money, have a backup account just in case their main one gets deleted, could have a “leave before you get left” philosophy, etc.

🌱32. Is it just me or the astro community talks a lot about Aries moons???

🌸33. I’ve noticed people with 4th house in Virgo could have been raised in a very judgemental household where there was lots of taboos and prejudice as to what’s right and what’s not and the family was too preoccupied with a perfect and immaculate reputation. For example could have been raised with values such as “only criminals wear tattoos” or “you should stay celibate till marriage or else you’re a whore”, etc. and if the native broke those rules they could have been very criticized and almost loathed by the family. They native could have been highly criticized in general by their family

🌱34. I’ve noticed women that have their moon harshly aspecting Pluto, Uranus and Mars or overall have a very afflicted moon tend to have very painful period cramps

🌸35. Something I have noticed with Venus or Moon conjunct Saturn people is that the concept of unconditional love sounds like alien language to them. That of course doesn’t mean they can’t love but they have this deep belief that they have to achieve something in order to deserve love and stuff like that

🌱36. Also, I just noticed that people with Saturn conjunct sun/moon/Venus/ASC, Capricorn big 3 or Capricorn degrees in personal placements have gone through IT man, specially on an internal level. I've noticed going through depression is a common theme for people with this Capricorn/Saturn influence

🌸37. Virgo Suns could often struggle to find balance between having healthy ego and being humble.

🌱38. Also people with Virgo+Leo energy are the MOOOOST judgmental people out there. Imagine ego mixed with a sense of knowing what’s correct. They tend to believe they’re morally superior and easily liable people as inferior

🌸39. The underdeveloped energy of a sign asimilates negative traits of its sister sign. For example underdeveloped Virgo is overly perfectionist and judgmental to the point where they have unrealistic expectations (Pisces)

🌱40. On the other hand the developed version of a sign is balanced out by understanding its sister sign. For example Leo knows they are unique and special and deserves recognition but understands everyone is also unique in their own way (Aquarius)

🌸41. I’ve noticed a person can very easily manifest the stereotypical characteristics of the sign that naturally rules the house where their chart ruler is. For example if someone’s chart ruler (ruler of the ASC) is in the 7th house the person can easily manifest stereotypical characteristics of Libra like being a people pleaser

🌱42. Sagittarius ASC/Mars people are all fun, amicable and outgoing.... until they don’t get their way. They will get away from people and situations that won’t give them what they want and they can genuinely dislike people solely because those people don’t let them have their way. They tend to go around life like they have a free pass to get away with everything they want.

🌸43. People with ASC-Neptune aspects don’t have a very reliable vision of reality or themselves to be honest. I don’t know how people with this aspect haven’t lost their mind already. They are prone to subconsciously manipulating or easily getting manipulated. With hard aspects this is a lot more obvious but I’ve noticed with easy aspects this energy tends to go almost unnoticed and they easily get away with stuff

🌱44. Have seen many famous people with North node in the 2nd, 5th, 11th and 12th houses specially

🌸45. Air risings or air dominance with Sagittarius placements/degrees are people who love cartoons/animations/videogames regardless of their age.

🌱46. When I got into astrology I didn’t understand why Sun is in detriment in Libra, but oh man... All Libras I’ve met had HUGE issues with trusting themselves. They doubt themselves 24/7 and that’s not even an exaggeration and I’ve noticed they actually may have grown up doubting themselves for some reason or they had a family (their dad) that caused this feeling in them. Also I’ve seen that those Libras with Scorpio placements feel like they have to hide something about themselves otherwise they’ll be rejected. Yes they are endlessly charming, but that's because they have essentially created their personality around the desire of being liked/accepted. They always need to feel they have SOMEONE. Their sense of self, INDIVIDUALITY, independence and assertiveness is lost in the process. Unless they have fire and specially Aries placements to balance this out they can feel like they have no personality and that’s why they are often perceived as fake or shallow.

🌸47. Literally ALL Virgo placements one way or another will always suggest a way to solve your problems when giving emotional support

🌱48. I have a theory that, since 4th house is how you were raised, your home and your parents, your 10th house is how you’d be as a parent yourself and the type of home you’ll create yourself

🌸49. Contrary to my expectations, I’ve seen priests having a much more prominent 4th house (many times combined with 8th house/Scorpio energy) than 12th house. People with 12th house placements or stellium seem to prefer artistic fields rather than classic spirituality

🌱50. The house where you have your Pluto is a house you just can NOT take lightly EVER. This area of your life feels like a heavy topic to you in some way (you are either obsessed with it, find It traumatic, get extremely defensive over it, find it spiteful, you feel everything goes wrong, etc, etc.) Can also apply to the house where you have the sign of scorpio

🌸51. In synastry, Venus falling in the 12th house creates a healing dynamic in the relationship, the connection can feel cathartic specially for the house person. The house person might tend to always be comforted by the venus person’s support, always feel better (or even energetically “cleansed”) after being with them. The venus person never judges the house person and accepts them and is always willing to be there.

🌱52. I’ve noticed this pattern in people with mutable moons where they have absent mothers in some shape or form. Their mother is very inconsistent, she always comes and goes. Very often the native may have felt like their mother always “left them be” (virgo moon moms put restrictions but eventually are rather flexible)

🌸53. People with cardinal moons have bossy mothers. In many cases they can have the type of mother that is constantly making decisions for them, like their mother decides what/where they’re going to study for example (the house tells what type of things the mother tends to make decisions on).

🌱54. People with fixed moons have possesive and protective moms. While mutable moons have absent mothers, natives with fixed moons have mothers that are ALWAYS there in some shape or form. At the very least the influence of the mother is always there and they always have this sense of “loyalty” towards their mom.

Credit: Tumblr blog @astrobydalia

That's it for now, next observation post is just as long but much better, stay tuned and safe loves 💕

#astrology #astro #astro notes #astro observations #zodiac

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rrxnjun · 3 years

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hypersonic missiles ; na jaemin

pairing: na jaemin x fem! reader genre: dystopian, end of the world au, strangers to lovers, a hint of sci-fi, angst word count: 11k (11.209) warnings: swearing, the end of the world happening so obviously some deaths here and there a/n: the end of the world situation is inspired by the book armada by ernest cline! also this feels a little rushed, to be honest, but at the same time i actually kind of like it ?? idk

synopsis: the end of the world is near, and all of you know it. you meet jaemin in the worst circumstances-- a few hours before both of your lives are going to end. in a moment where nothing seems to matter anymore, jaemin gives you everything he has.

blue monday series || playlist

27TH JUNE, 6:12PM. 11 HOURS AND 5 MINUTES BEFORE THE END.

Your sneakers squeak on the hot pavement and your forehead is slowly getting glossy with the sweat that’s starting to appear in small droplets all over your heated face. You don’t have much time now, you realise, so you need to hurry. It’s an easy task, really-- you just have to get in, which shouldn’t be as hard in times like these, get back what’s yours and run back home to prepare for the end.

You never thought that the world would end like this. Scratch that, no. You never thought the world would end at all. Something about this statement still feels like a sick joke, like a scene from those stupid sci-fi movies your friend’s brother used to watch when you came over for a sleepover. It’s hard to believe you’re going to die just because some scientists didn’t have more functioning brain cells to know that they shouldn’t mess with forces they know are much stronger than humans are. And smarter, so it seems.

You’re not stupid. You’re quite a smart cookie, really. What a shame you won’t get any opportunity to showcase your functioning brain more in your short life. When the government announced that they’ve been communicating with aliens for the past few years, observing their planet and trying to learn how they live and get on with other spieces, you were surprised, but it didn’t take you long to accept that information. What was harder, though, was accepting the information that you were only a few hours away from the end of the world.

Something went wrong and so instead of trying to save the planet by making the big atomic missile that’s nearing your atmosphere because of miscommunication with the beings living in outer space disappear, the government is telling the world to pay for atomic bunkers to hide survive, and that the less fortunate have to be prepared for the worst of the worst.

You could be mad about it for long, but you choose not to. They let you know too late, but you guess you should have been more aware of the fact that the government is hiding everything from the population long ago. People would go crazy if they knew aliens existed sooner-- maybe it’s good there’s only a few hours away from the end of the world.

The end of the world, so it seems, only for the unlucky ones.

The ones without expensive cars and stacks of money in their family safes. The ones without big businesses and wealthy connections, the ones without big savings and golden teeth decorating their mouths. It’s the end of the world for the middle class, it’s the end of the world for the poor ones. Only the richest ones will survive, because only the richest ones can afford to pay for the atomic bunker.

The world’s a twisted place. Capitalism wins even in the darkest times, so it seems.

You could be mad about it for long, but you choose not to. You have more important things to do right now.

An enormous neon sign with all the letters still illuminated in color, much opposing to the apocalyptic feeling the streets are having right now, appears in your point of vision as you stop in front of the store and read it over again. Na’s pawnshop secrets. You snicker, rolling your eyes in annoyance. This is the pawnshop that once took everything treasured you had-- the store you had to run to with all your precious things just so your family wouldn’t have to leave their small apartment. This is the pawnshop from the biggest pawnshop chain in the country-- many smaller stores appearing all over the coast, all begging for possessed things they could take from poor people that didn’t have a better way to earn money. You despise the big neon sign and the navy blue interior, because it took you everything you ever had.

But now, you’re getting it back. If there’s only 11 hours before you die and the world is wiped out of all people with no money, you’re getting back what’s yours and no one can stop you, because 1) there’s no one around to do so, and 2) nobody even cares anyway. Everything’s worthless now.

You pick up a big rock from the sidewalk into your hands, silently glancing on it and soothing over the smooth surface. It’s a little shiny under the direct sunlight, making you lose your track of thought for a second before a loud shriek from somewhere far wakes you up into your reality and you finally decide-- you throw the stone against the big glass window and watch it smash, not even a sound of alarm naering your ears, since the owner’s somewhere far in his fancy atomic bunker and you think the power went out a little while ago.

A snicker leaves your mouth as you carefully step inside through the hole you managed to create in the surface. You make sure your rusty old sneakers don’t meet any sharp pieces and run over to the glass cabinets in the far corner of the room, glancing over at the place you’ve been admiring for the last few weeks now, immediately finding what you’re looking for.

Sparks of golden and black glimmer under the sunlight, your eyes growing twice their size when you recognise the object. There it is-- there’s your most loved treasure, the prettiest piece of jewelry you’ve ever owned. The necklace is glittering in your eyes, the gold a little rusty now after all those years, yet the prize tag still says it’s just as worthy as if it was when it was new. The golden roses and small petals catch your eye as if you’ve just seen them for the first time-- you’re glad you finally see it from so up close again.

You crack your knuckles and decide to get to work. The cabinet is locked and there’s no way you could get inside of it even if you tried your hardest. You’ve already tried how it is to do crimes and break windows, so there’s no fear or adrenaline left in your body when you walk over to the stone left on the white tiled ground under the window, reaching over to smash another glassed cabinet to take back the pretty golden necklace sitting in the vitrine.

You pull your arm a little back, preparing for the sound of the glass smashing from the force of the stone, when a sound completely different to the one you’re expecting surprises you from somewhere behind you, panic in their voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, making you jolt in your movements. Your sneaker-covered feet slowly turn on their heel by themselves and you’re met with a tall male with black hair staring you up and down, a hawaiian shirt hugging his body. The aquamarine color makes his deep eyes stand out and his arms are stretched out in front of his body in a defensive gesture, looking like he’s fearing your next step.

“Stealing.” you shrug. You don’t feel so helpless with a huge ass stone in your hand, it seems. The fear of death escaped you the moment you heard the news this morning and even a man your age wearing a hawaiian shirt in the middle of nowhere can’t scare you anymore. You lost all your common sense.

“Stealing.” he repeats, confusion written all over his face. “At a… time like this,” he tilts his head like a puppy that has just been spoken to by a human, lost in the translation.

“Yes.” you nod. “Why do you care?”

He blankly stares at you, the question startling him. He’s never been spoken to in this way before. All the people he’s met in his short life have been nothing but nice to him, looking at him in the brightest light possible. He thinks it’s the impact of his parents. Not that he likes it, he really, truly, doesn’t even care, but now, when he really thinks about it, he’s been one of the lucky people in this world to only receive such treatment this late in his life.

“I- I..” he stutters, mentally slapping himself for looking so out of place and insecure, “my parents own this place. You can’t steal from here.” he answers, nodding.

He’s given a blank stare from you, examining one, even, as your eyes move down from his face to the aquamarine hawaiian shirt enveloping his built figure, finally landing on the white designer flip flops on his feet. You look expressionless for a moment, as if you’re contemplating his argument, when you just snort at him and roll your eyes in amusement.

“Who even cares anymore?” you ask, waiting a second for his reply. When you’re given none, you shrug again, sighing. “Right, no one. I guessed so. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll just continue what I started and then you can go on with your life.” you ironically smile at him and turn on your heel, once again reaching to shatter the glass vitrine, when quick steps approach you from the back and your hand is pulled away with bigger force.

The action somehow makes you turn around in your place, shocked eyes gazing at the unknown boy now standing way too close to your body. “You can’t do that,” he repeats.

Your breaths mix, your eyes squinting in anger as you bite down on your lip, trying to break out of his hold. His hold on your wrist is strong, though, stronger than you’d expected from the biceps outlined under the hawaiian shirt he’s wearing, which only makes you more angry, because who is he to make your plan fail when you’re so close to the only thing you’re not willing to die without?

“Fucking let go! Why does it even matter so much when I’ll die in a few hours? Can’t you just let me fucking get that stupid necklace and go?!” you yell out, eyes glossy with frustration and the nerves built up in your body, making the boy in front of you visibly soften. He still doesn’t let go of you, though, opting to only hold you tighter when you swish your hand around, helplessly trying to make him let go.

“Stop! I won’t let you break my parent’s place just because you’re desperate!” he yells, mouth forming a pout you don’t expect from an angry man, making you snicker.

“As if anyone’s going to visit your stupid pawn shop after all the middle class is dead.” you spit in spite, watching his eyes going motionless, staring blankly somewhere deep inside of your soul.

A deep sigh escapes his lips as he turns you around, dragging you to the far corner of the store, licking his lips in nerves. There’s a sense of dedication and hopeless desperation written in his features as he nods and looks you in the eyes again, wanting your all attention.

“Look. I’ll unlock the vitrine and give you your necklace back, but you have to promise me one thing.” he proposes. Your insides clench in a mix of emotions-- you’re finally close to having the treasured piece of gold again, yet, there’s a hint of mischief behind his words and you know that even though you came to steal, you’ll have to pay for it, just like any other customer would.

“What is it?” you ask, irritated.

His bunny-like teeth chew on his bottom lip as his eyes shift down to his feet, the black fringe covering his eyes just a little. “You have to help me.”

“Help you?” you storm out, sparks flying from your angry gaze. Your hands clutch in fists. There’s no way you’re going to help a rich boy a few hours before your life ends. You’ve been living in hell and despair just because of people like him and now you have to help him? There’s no way you’re going on with that plan.

“Yes. Either you help me and you can get your necklace, or you don’t and you’re never seeing it again,” he says, face serious. There’s a deeper meaning behind his words and you know that if you promise your help now, you won’t be getting out of this so soon. Danger fills your veins. They say gut feelings are guardian angels and now, you don’t even think of doubting the saying as your mind screams at you to not take his promise, to not let him make you do anything you’re going to regret later. And you listen, because, well, duh. You’re not stupid.

“I’m not helping you.” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“No necklace, then,” he shrugs nonchalantly, starting to let go of your hands. He changes his mind quickly when your face resembles an angry bull, shielding you away from the glass vitrine with his whole body, eyes coldly staring into yours.

“What the fuck do you want?” you cry out. Desperation soon comes in the place of danger in your insides. There’s only 11 hours left before your death and you already feel like the end is closer than it seems with his body close to yours, the aquamarine screaming and laughing at you when his black fringe coves the fakeness in his eyes.

“I want you to drive me to Taewe. My family’s there, waiting in a bunker. I need to get there soon or else I’ll die,” he explains hurriedly. It seems like desperation hits the both of you at similar times, his eyes big staring into your soul as a tiny wrinkle settles in between his brows in a frown.

You chuckle in spite. “Little rich boy can’t drive?” you ask, rolling your eyes. You’re slowly losing your patience with him.

“Never needed to,” he shrugs, the cocky smirk on his face getting on your nerves even more. Sometimes the small monster inside of you wishes to wipe it off, but you choose not to as you only shake your head in disbelief. Of course the son of the richest family around never had to drive a car. He had his own drivers, of course.

“Nobody even cares anymore, dude. Just fucking steal a car and drive your ass there.” you say through your teeth and try to go around him in quick steps, but his body shields your way every time.

“I don’t want to die on my way there,” he shrugs, “take it or leave it. You can either drive me to Taewe and get your shiny necklace or you can decline my offer and leave with nothing.” he stares at you. Something inside of him is desperate for your help, needing the presence of another human on his way, the upper forces telling him he’s already one step closer to making you go with him with the offer he’s proposed to you. No one’s ever declined the man he is, no one’s ever had the audacity.

“Fuck off, Na. Just- just fuck off,” you huff, hair falling into your face. Frustration and anger mirror on your features when he teases you one last time, taking you over the edge.

“Think about it. You can either leave with everything, or die with nothing.”

You know that you won’t ever get to the necklace with the tall man in front of you shielding your way with force. You know you won’t ever get to the only thing that matters to you at this point, you know you won’t ever succeed if you don’t choose to sacrifice something first. You’ve already done it millions of times before when you went to the famous pawn shop, sacrificing your dignity and your pieces of joy by giving up on the only things that ever resembled that your family once had money. And so you do it again, like a fool.

You know you won’t ever leave this earth without your grandma’s necklace.

27TH JUNE, 7:17PM. 9 HOURS AND 58 MINUTES BEFORE THE END.

Rich people don’t know what real life is. You learned that when you first saw a rich couple on the street wearing all white clothing mourning over the loss of a brand new t-shirt that was stained with strawberry ice cream, snobbily muttering how they have to throw it out now instead of thinking rationally and just throwing it into the wash.

You learned the fact more and more times in your life when you were made fun of in high school for not owning a bread cutter at home, because apparently, rich people don’t use knives anymore. When you were made fun of wearing rusty sneakers on your field trip even though your classmate almost cried at the end of it because his white new yeezys got all dirty from mud. You were the smart one here, not them.

And you learned this fact again now, with the boy you learned is named Jaemin, by your side as you break into a lonely car parked at the side of the street-- easily breaking the window and opening the door from the inside with your outstretched hand, stepping inside and turning the engine on just by connecting a few wires together, sighing in annoyance as the wide eyed boy sat next to you in awe.

Rich people don’t know what real life is. They think this is all just the movies.

“How did you know how to do that?” he gasps, eyeing you up and down, making you seem like the coolest creature in the world. He doesn’t know that your father made you fix the old cars with him when you were little. He used to do it a lot when you were growing up-- the job was easy for him and it made him a decent amount of money. Clients were still coming, since cars break all the time, but when your father’s eyesight got worse, he had to give up on his little part time job.

“It’s common knowledge, pretty much…” you mutter. You’re not in the mood to talk about your growing up now and you’re not in the mood to talk about it with Na Jaemin either. He doesn’t know what real childhood feels like. He’s spent it all in golf yards.

“Hmm,” he hums, “it seems like breaking into my parents’ store wasn’t the first illegal thing you’ve done.” he snickers.

Annoyance fills your veins, making a frustrated huff leave your parted lips. You send him a glare that makes goosebumps appear all over his back, ironically smiling at him. “Yes, I’m taking small steps. If you don’t stop talking, the next illegal thing I’ll do is a murder.”

You don’t scare him. But still, your bold statement makes him shut up for a little while.

The ride is silent. You fiddle with the radio and hear a static sound followed by a female voice announcing the news you’ve heard at least 30 times since this morning, making you turn it off in annoyance. You follow Jaemin’s directions and end up on a long, long road that seems to be in the middle of a desert-- half dead trees and sand enclosing the scenery in a scary, post-apocalyptic look. The words that had come out of the female announcer’s mouth resonate in your head, staying there even if you try your hardest not to think about them, even if you try your hardest to filter them out and make them shut up.

“The government announces that there’s a hypersonic missile reaching the planet earth coming from the planet E10 in the other solar system. The earth’s National Aeronautics and Space Administration had been talking with the outer creatures for years now, trying to communicate in a peaceful manner. It seems like we unknowingly angered the alien species, making them declare a war on us using missiles stronger than we could ever imagine. Since there’s no time for us to prepare for the attack of the missiles, we encourage the population to hide in atomic bunkers hidden all around the country that will hopefully prevent the fortunate ones from the attack. Thank you for listening and make sure to stay safe.”

You can’t listen to the words anymore. It all seems like a sick joke. The fortunate ones, they call them. The survivors. They’re used to buying everything in their life-- buying their friends, family, success. Now, they’re buying their own life. Ironic, isn’t it?

Once you can’t listen to the announcement repeating in your head over and over again, you can’t help but try to distract yourself by something different.

“How far is the bunker, by the way?” you ask. A quick glance is paid Na Jaemin’s way to see him staring straight in front of him at the moving road, teeth bared into his lower lip.

“Not that far. Maybe 2 hours away by car?” he says, sounding unsure. You don’t even know if he knows where he’s going. The poor boy never had to give directions to anyone ever in his life and you find it kind of amusing to see him so concentrated on the road. That, or maybe he fears his own death with the speed you’re driving. You think you can get a little reckless, though. There’s no one else on the road and you’re going to die soon anyway. “Why are you asking?”

You dwell on his question for a while before you decide to answer in honesty. “Well, I wanted to make sure that I can get home and die with my family once the missile falls, you know?” you say, glancing at him.

His composure shifts, his whole figure shrieking in the passenger seat. The deep brown orbs fall in life, the scared sparkle making him seem a little disappointed-- although this is surely not the emotion he’s feeling at the moment and you both know that. You find his pity a little laughable. It’s not like he has to worry about things like this anyway.

“I’m-”

“Why didn’t you go with your family, by the way?” you ask, cutting off his words. You’re glad you took the sentence out of his mouth swiftly, not knowing how you’d react if he said he’s sorry. It’s not his fault. He shouldn’t be sorry-- hell, he’s not even sorry. It’s just empty words and they won’t change anything.

He hums for a bit, searching the car for anything that he could focus on to ground himself. You find the gesture a little worrying, his eyes shaking as he replies to you with a tone of voice similar to a child telling their mother they didn’t break their favorite vase. Surprise-- they did. Why does Na Jaemin sound like a liar to you, then?

“I was doing something in the store when they were leaving. I didn’t want them to be late, so I just told them our driver can drive me there once I’m done, but he bailed on me and left by himself, so I had no way of getting there alone.”

You take a quick glance at him, tearing your eyes off the steering wheel. Something seems off and you know it-- you can’t go around and lie to a person that grew up around people trying to take all the little money they had by tripping them into traps by lying. “That sounds weird. Are you sure you’re telling the truth?” you ask.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Of course I am!” he acts offended, even pouts a little again. If you didn’t know better and you were one of the teenage girls that could afford cars for their sweet sixteen in your high school, you’d believe him. You drove a tractor sooner than a car though. People can’t just say things to you and expect you to not know they’re lying. How do these two things align in the real world? You have no idea. Something is telling you that they do, though.

“If you don’t tell me the truth, I’ll just throw you out of the car and drive off, Na Jaemin, I’m telling you-” you start, when suddenly, there’s a loud noise coming out of the engine, making you steer the wheel in the wrong direction in surprise. You think you’re nearing your death when you see a tree in your vision, but you manage to turn the wheel just enough to miss the tall gift of nature before the engine completely stops and your car moves on its own with no power, the comfortable humming of the car nowhere to be found as the wheels finally stop turning and you stop in the middle of nowhere, car buried in sand.

You take a few deep breaths in, trying to calm down your racing heart. You almost hit a tree and fractured the whole car, you almost managed to make the two of you injured or dead way too soon for your own liking on this hot day.

Shaky fingers reach to the wires under the steering wheel, trying to make the car turn on again, but it always just lets out a pathetic cough. A quick glance at the tachometers tells you that there’s not even use in trying-- the car’s out of fuel and there’s nothing you can do to make it move again.

“Shit.” you curse under your breath, slamming your forehead against the steering wheel.

“Are you okay?” you hear a low voice coated in concern calls from beside you, making you snap back into reality.

You sit straight against the car seat, huffing in anger. Nothing seems to go right and you want to tear something apart, you want to kick something, you want to scream-- you’re frustrated and the world feels like it’s ending, because, well, simply said, it is.

“Fuck!” you scream, fiery eyes burning your passenger sitting calmly at the leather seats. “I am losing my mind. I’m not okay, I want to fucking yell-” you grunt, unbuckling your seatbelt, opening the door and quickly escaping into the heated air of the summer day, fists clenched in anger. A fierce kick is delivered to the side of the car, making your foot hurt as you scowl in pain, jumping back and quickly sitting down into the sand, clenching your foot in your hands.

A figure dressed in an aquamarine hawaiian shirt takes a seat next to you in the heated yellow, a dry scoff reaching your ears. “Are you stupid? Why did you do that?”

“Because I’m fucking frustrated. That’s why.” you snap back.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Like you care.” you roll your eyes. “Oh, right, you do care, because if I hurt myself, you won’t have any servant that could drive you to your fancy ass bunker so you could survive the end of the fucking world, am I right? Well, surprise surprise rich boy, I am no use now. The car doesn’t have any gas and we are in the middle of fucking NOWHERE-” you rise your voice, going off about everything and anything that comes into your mind that’s eating you up from the inside, clenching your fists until your knuckles turn white, when a calm voice settles into your ears and makes you shut up.

“Does it hurt?” Jaemin asks, gently taking your foot into his hands and feeling around your toes and the heel through your torn sneakers now full of sand, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“I-I-” you stutter, huffing and brushing your hair back out of your face, “no. I was just angry, that’s all.”

“You sure?” his eyes look into yours, a question mirroring them as his eyebrows raise a little.

“Yes, I’m sure.” you roll your eyes. Another grunt leaves your mouth as you lay back into the sand, throwing your hands into your hair, closing your eyes a little to shield your irises from the direct sunlight. You just need a little break, a break from the reality, a break from your life--

but you can’t take a break. There’s no time to lose.

The time is ticking.

“What now, rich boy?” you crack your eye open, seeing him towering over you and shielding you from the sun in his shadow, the face he’s wearing obviously telling you he’s lost in thought, when a defeated expression takes over and he answers.

“We walk.”

27TH JUNE, 9:11PM. 8 HOURS AND 6 MINUTES BEFORE THE END.

Stars shine above your heads, your skin shrivelling up with goosebumps as you walk across the seemingly never ending desert, your beaten-up sneakers squeaking with sweat as you stomp on the still warm road. Na Jaemin is exactly one step next from you to the left, arms swinging subtly next to his body, the aquamarine hawaiian shirt looking quite funny in the moonlight, when the sun aggressively shining on his tanned skin doesn’t make him glisten and beam like models when they take instagram photos on golden hour. You snicker a little at the irony of everything-- how the two of you even ended up at this point, one of you fighting for his life and the other one fighting with the fact that in a few hours, it’s going to end.

It’s only 8 hours until the end happens. You know it, because the scientists calculated it to an exact minute, and prepared the population for the complete end. Funnily enough, they’re not even trying to do anything. You started to think of the whole situation as a pathetic conspiracy theory-- is this a stupid survival game? Is this just an experiment to see who is the strongest and who can battle the rich into the atomic bunkers? Or is this just a way to get rid of the bottom social layer-- the poor, hell, even the middle class?

You guess you’ll never truly know. The government hid their communication with the aliens for way too long for you to even trust another word that’s ever going to come out of either of their mouths. They all do the same, after all, only the names change every time-- you can join their group if you’re into money. That’s all it takes. Wealth.

You snicker out loud at the absurdity of it all. The companion by your side furrows his brows at you and beckons you to explain.

“What’s so funny?”

The chilly breeze starts to soften your skin as you look over at him and shake your head in an exclamation of disbelief, a widely known expression only the frustrated tend to act on. “This. The whole thing.” you shrug.

“This?”

“This,” you nod, laughing, “the fact that aliens even exist and we didn’t know about it until now. The fact that they’re suddenly going to kill us just because a motherfucker there somewhere said something wrong. The fact that the rich can survive, because that’s how it always goes-- it’s funny. It’s funny how I’m walking here by your side, even though I could have just turned on my heel and gone to die soundly with my family, it’s funny how you claim that you sent your family there without you, even though that’s obviously a blunt lie…” you continue, counting on your fingers, your voice rising with each coming reason.

He remains silent. The air grows thicker around you, even though the absence of the sun high up on the horizon makes it fresher than in the afternoon, your steps being the only sounds heard in the wide space. You feel like you’re pointlessly walking, the area around you not even changing a bit-- it’s like you’re walking on a treadmill, still standing at the same place. The only thing making you believe that you are, indeed, walking further into the world is the fact that your broken car is nowhere to be seen, left far away behind the horizon.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, a sudden pout caressing his features. Uncertainty of what he’s even apologizing for splatters into your veins as you look up to him again, awaiting the response that’s not going to arrive.

Maybe he’s apologizing for being rich and lucky. Your dialogue must have made him feel bad, but at the end of the day, it’s not really his fault. You can’t hate the rich for being rich. You hate the rich because of internalized jealousy, that’s all it is. Maybe he’s apologizing for making you do this. For making you walk with him to a completely strange town only just so he could survive the apocalypse that’s about to happen. The truth is, though, you can’t even hate him for that. He did what he needed to do. You both need something that the other one has and even though you couldn’t care less if the rich boy from the Na family survives or not, at least you can feel good about yourself and die as a savior, in a way.

“It’s okay, rich boy,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not like it’s your fault anyway.”

A muffled hum leaves his mouth, his snow white flip flops hitting the concrete. He finds a small stone to kick right in front of him, moving it across the empty road like a footballer on the grassy field, the corners of his mouth rising when the stone reaches your side of the road and you kick it subtly his way, playing an innocent game of footsie just a few hours before you die.

“You know, my life isn’t much. I’m not wealthy, hell, I’m not even in the middle class. I don’t have many friends because everyone laughs at my old clothes, but after all, it still sucks to know that I haven’t experienced so many things. I’m too young to die,” you get out into the thin air, fingers playing with each other as you look at Jaemin on your left.

“What haven't you experienced?” he asks.

Heat rises into your cheeks when you realise the extent of your hidden desires, the fact that you were going to talk about your empty love life with the boy you met just a few hours ago fully hitting you as you chew on your bottom lip. It may be embarrassing, but you guess you have nothing to lose now, right? You only live once, as you used to say before, and now, the full weight of those words is falling on top of your shoulders when you just decide to fuck it and confess to the boy.

“My first kiss, I guess... “ you shrug, “or first anything, for that matter.”

“You mean first sex?” he asks, teasing you.

Shame fills your insides as you look at him with offended orbs. “I meant a first relationship, but whatever floats your boat, you pervert.” you roll your eyes and hear him giggle next to you, his laughs making you feel carefree just for a second, the teasing making you forget the purpose of your walk.

“Me neither, though.” he says after he finishes talking, his eyes long focused on the small stone at the top of his heel, kicking it far away so you have more time to talk before you have to focus on the kick again.

“Oh?” you ask. Surprise hits your brain at the confession. You thought your missed-out firsts were the impact of the fact that you weren’t exactly pretty, popular, or didn’t even have enough money to be considered a girl that someone would like. Looking at Na Jaemin, who admittedly, has it all, and knowing he is in the same exact shoes as you, makes you a little shaken-up to begin with. “Why?”

“I guess I didn’t find anyone I’d feel connected to,” he mumbles, shrugging. “I don’t care, though.”

A snicker leaves your mouth. “Right, ‘cause you can kiss all the rich girls that survive the missile after you get out of your fancy little bunker.” you tease.

You look over to him and see him rolling his eyes at you, a huff leaving his parted lips. “That’s not what I meant and you know that,” he replies. “I meant that… I don’t feel like I missed out on something. It’s better to find the right one than to do it with just whoever, isn’t it?”

Poking the side of your cheek with your tongue, a hum leaves your mouth. You guess he’s right. You aren’t missing out on anything. You just didn’t find the one. And that’s okay, it’s better than living with a lie. “Yeah.”

A moment of silence ends fast as he brings up another crucial question.

“Do you have anything else in mind that you didn’t manage to experience and always wanted to?”

You dwell on the question for a second before you nod enthusiastically, your legs growing numb with the long walk as the outline of tall buildings appear somewhere in the distance, feeling like the town is at the reach of your fingertips. You see the tall constructions and swirls as your eyes light up with excitement.

“I always wanted to go into an aquapark.”

The boy looks at you with mischief in his eyes. He doesn’t even have to say it.

“Let’s go, then.”

27TH JUNE, 10:41PM. 6 HOURS AND 36 MINUTES BEFORE THE END.

Na Jaemin swears he’d never seen anyone with such a pure expression on their face before-- eyes crinkled up into moon crescents, the corners of their mouth tugged into a wide grin, stars lingering in their orbs as they look around their surroundings. Na Jaemin swears he’d never seen anyone so excited before to be in an aquapark. He’s been to places like this many times before. Either with his parents that forgot that he was even there for a minute, letting him play around in the small pools by himself, or with his friends from high school that, somewhere along the way, forgot what friendship is and made him buy everything, because quoting, ‘he’s got the money to do so’. It sucked to never be able to enjoy the experience just as much as you were enjoying it right now, dancing around the empty and dark aquapark, stripping out of your clothes so you’re left only in your underwear, running to the nearest pool.

Somehow, he’s glad you’re the first one he’s experiencing this with. Not the aquapark in general, no, but the feeling of doing something he shouldn’t be doing, the feeling of enjoying your life to the fullest without anyone’s expectations falling onto his shoulders.

He watches you with lively eyes. Cold water splashes onto his skin as you jump right in, not even giving your body a second to get used to the freezing liquid filling up the pool, diving right in instead and laughing out loud like a happy child. He doesn’t realise it, but a wide grin spreads across his face, a wide grin that makes you confused, but happy at the same time, because god, this was the first time you’ve seen the strange boy smile and oh how you like that view. The mystery and weirdness hiding in his aura is all gone now, when the smile on his cheeks beams brighter than the burning sun now long gone behind the horizont.

“Come in!” you call at him, turning around in the water, acting like an aquabella on her first show. Hands fly up next to your head, twirling around like a ballerina. “The water’s amazing! And you have to get used to the cold before we go to the toboganes dude, come here!”

Your cheering is rewarded with a scoff, a shrug of his shoulders making you go crazy. “Oh don’t just stand there! You’re ruining all the fun.” you pout, swimming closer to the edge of the swimming pool. You don’t shudder, no goosebumps appear on your body like Jaemin’s expected when your body comes in contact with the cold water, making him curious of the reason behind that. Na Jaemin doesn’t know that you’ve been bathing in the freezing water with your grandma ever since you were young. The wrinkled woman took care of her health well. Was it all for anything, though?

“I’m not getting in. We’re here for you, not me.” he says, kicking off his shoes and sitting at the edge of the pool. The water is freezing and a tight hiss leaves his mouth at the contact, making you chuckle at him, a teasing shake of your head making his attention perk up as you scoot even closer to where he’s sitting.

“Na Jaemin, you should have known better,” you dramatically sigh, your hands motioning into a grabby motion as you reach out to him, his reflexes not kicking yet.

“I should have known wha-”

Your hands swiftly take hold of his legs swinging back and forth in the water, using all the strength you’ve built up in your muscles over the years to drag him into the pool, laughing in the process as the male doesn’t have the chance to brace himself and keep his head above the water. His arms wave around as he meets the cold surface, your hands on his shoulders drowning him in the process when you finally let him get up, laughing at his expression-- nose scrunched up and eyes shut, coughs echoing through his body as he tries to catch his breath.

You try hard to battle your laughter, but you fail. Strong arms move to your waist to steady his own figure, your hands subconsciously travelling up to his shoulders.

When his eyes open and stare into yours, you’re overwhelmed in a feeling you’d never felt before, in a situation you never had to handle in your whole, short life. It’s strange and the word feels funny on your tongue, so you don’t even try to put a name on it. A muffled whisper leaves your mouth, knowing damn well it will reach his ears with the proximity your bodies are in, a shy smile sitting on your lips.

“Sorry about that.”

Jaemin’s hands slowly leave your body. He notices the goosebumps rising on your skin.

Strange, he thinks.

28TH JUNE, 0:31 AM. 4 HOURS AND 46 MINUTES BEFORE THE END.

The grass under your bodies feels soft as you lay behind the closed aquapark, fully clothed and dry now. The stars above your heads are more visible than ever now, since the light and the smog that was blocking them is all gone now. You can’t really know what will happen when an apocalypse takes place. Your brain didn’t predict that most people will leave the town and travel to meet with their loved ones for the last time. You couldn't have predicted that the big cities that were once so full of people would be feeling like ghost towns, little to no people dragging their feet slangily around the empty streets. It’s all strange and unpredictable, you figure. You don’t mind the silence at all, though.

Na Jaemin lays next to you with his hands plopped up under his head. You two decided to take a break for a while, since the town he’s supposed to be in is only about one hour away. There’s no rush, you two can relax and find the strength so you can walk to the next town. You figured you could take a car and get there faster, since you were in the city again and there were plenty parked on the soulless streets, but it seems like Jaemin no longer trusts you behind the wheel and so you have to walk.

Time is ticking. You know that you’ll probably not get home by the time the world is hit with the missile. Something about the fact that you refused to say goodbye to your mother before you left to the pawn shop feels bitter in your stomach. ‘Say goodbye in case something bad happens along the way and we don’t meet each other again before the end’, she said. You waved her off with annoyance, telling her you’ll stay safe and meet them all in a few minutes.

Is your mother worried now? You couldn’t even call back, because your phone was broken. You figured you wouldn’t even have the strength to do so.

It was better to end without a goodbye.

“Why do you really need that necklace so much, by the way?” he suddenly asks, breaking the silence.

No response leaves your mouth. Words are stuck somewhere inside of your throat, the explanation coated with a feeling of pain and loneliness. Regret again washes over you when you realise you had to give up something so important for you, but shame kicks back again when your brain comprehends the fact that you had to give it up because your family had no money. Did you not work hard enough? Why couldn’t you live like Jaemin’s family?

“You don’t have to answer, it’s just… you literally went through half the country because of it. So it must be really important to you, isn’t it?”

You shake your head in disapproval. A heavy sigh leaves your mouth, but nonetheless, you decide to explain. There’s nothing to lose now, a few hours before the end, a few hours before everything stops mattering.

“The necklace… It was my grandmother’s. She gave it to me when I was very young and I managed to treasure it and keep it safe for a lot of years. She gave it to me when grandpa died,” you note, licking your lips momentarily. Your throat feels dry as you nervously continue. “She said it was the prettiest gift he’s ever given her. It was sort of like a promise ring, I think? He gave it to her one day as a promise to marry her, when they’re both older and ready for it. And so when they finally got married, she took off the necklace.” you explain, taking a short glance at him.

A pair of doe eyes scan your face with fondness. Na Jaemin doesn’t know what it’s like when jewelry holds significance. All he knows is elegance and the purpose of looking good, all he knows is bragging with designer brands. No one’s ever given him such an important gift.

“And when my grandpa died and my grandma got incredibly upset, she gave the necklace to me, because she wanted the proof of their love to be here forever,” you mumble, “almost like she knew that her end was near…”

“I’m sorry?”

“My grandma died a couple of years ago. I promised to keep that necklace safe.” you say, looking sincerely into his eyes. The stars reflecting in them make him look wonderful, too magical to ever need shiny rings and diamonds to look expensive. He just looked beautiful in the moonlight, even a stranger like you could see that.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. It seems like he’s looking for the right things to say, but finds none. He doesn’t want to talk to you in empty words and promises, he doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s pitying you, because he feels like that’s what you hate the most. So he just nods at you and sadly smiles, hoping to get his point across. He hears you and he understands. That’s all that matters.

“I didn’t want to die with the knowledge that I couldn’t keep my promise.” you shrug, meeting the sky with your eyes. The galaxy hues swirl in your irises when you admire the beauty of it all-- the feeling of nostalgia somehow meeting your brain, even though you’ve never lived a moment like this, confessing your biggest secret to a stranger before, spilling out your heart to someone and have them listen. It’s a nice feeling, but it tastes bitter.

“They must have loved each other so much,” Jaemin notes.

You smile at his comment, nodding. “They did,” you muse, “they really did. It must be great to be in love. To feel love. It must be so great to feel the butterflies in your stomach and to feel like you’ll even go to the end of the world with that person, promising to be in love with them forever… It must be nice. I wish I could feel it too, some time.”

Shuffling of the grass meets your ears as your companion sifts in his position, getting his hands out from under his head and relaxing them next to his body. His skin softly brushes along yours when he does so, making a strange feeling of nervousness bundle up in your stomach, suddenly feeling funny at the contact of his hand subtly hitting yours on the ground. You can’t quite put a finger on it, you can’t even put a name or a label to the feeling. It’s new and it’s strange. You can’t say you hate it, though.

“Yeah, it must be nice.”

28TH JUNE, 1:26AM. 3 HOURS AND 51 MINUTES UNTIL THE END.

Soft snores hit your ears. You panic. You can’t sleep, you can’t relax. The reality seems like it’s crushing down on you, the sky is falling and it’s suffocating you. You almost beg for the higher forces to take you now, to take you out of the misery 4 hours earlier.

No, it’s not 4 hours. It’s 3 hours and 51 minutes. Not that your panicked brain is counting.

You try to ground yourself by playing with your fingers, taking a look at the peaceful man laying next to you asleep in his annoying hawaiian shirt. A noisy thought jumps into your brain and you swear you want to ignore it, you swear you want to push it out and forget about it, but you can’t. You just simply can’t.

Your body reacts on itself as you sit up and silently reach over his body to the black backpack sitting next to him on the ground. You battle with the zipper and make the bag open, clammy fingers shaking as you try hard to make no noise, sweaty palms rummaging through the insides of the bag in a desperate search of what’s yours.

You can still get to your family in time. You can still say goodbye if you find the necklace and run fast enough. Hell, you can even steal another car. You don’t care.

The search for the jewelry is hard, the small bag feeling like it’s way more bigger on the inside than it really is. You find a wallet, an empty water bottle, some useless keys and a lot of receipts, but your hands are yet to come in contact with the cold metal of your grandma’s necklace. Rush creeps up your neck as you quicken your pace and stop caring about the noise, feeling around the texture of the bag, until you finally take the necklace into your hands, breathing quick and shallow.

You turn to pull away from the bag, ready to sprint away. You’re more than ready to leave Na Jaemin there alone in the grass, you’re more than ready to let him suffer on his own. It’s not like he needed your help anymore anyways, right?

A hand on your shoulder stops you in your movements, a tight hand coming in contact with your closed palm. The necklace dingles out of the closet fist, Jaemin’s gentle hold feeling too careful on your skin. Hushed whisper leaves his mouth, his eyes hooded when he stares at you through the tiredness.

“Stay with me a little longer, yeah? Just a little longer.”

You feel tears brimming the edge of your eyes, his gaze meeting yours in silent, hushed words. You don’t dare to say any of your thoughts out loud.

Instead, you open your palm, letting him take the necklace out of your hold, hiding it inside of his pocket, his skin on yours still so gentle and soothing.

“You can’t buy that,” Jaemin mumbled, shaking his head when a customer once again brought the beautiful necklace to the counter with a tight smile on their face.

“Why?” they ask.

A thought, a memory, one that pained him on the inside and followed him any time he saw the jewelry in its full glory, had appeared in his head as he saw a girl with a broken smile on her face taking a stack of money from his father, saying goodbye to the necklace. He swears that out of everyone he’d seen coming through the door of his parents’ pawnshop, your eyes looked the saddest while giving up something you owned.

One day, you’ll come and get it back. He knows that.

“You just can’t. I’m sorry.”

28TH JUNE, 4:33AM. 44 MINUTES BEFORE THE END.

Your sneakers kick the small rocks scattered along the lonely road. Jaemin’s steadily walking next to you, hands in his pockets. His gaze is averted to the ground and you check the time on the clock sitting at the top of the church tower, noticing the end inching closer and closer. Cold sinks into your bones when you realise what’s coming.

You reach a place away from the city. Trees envelope you into a tight hug as you walk inside the forested area and hear the leaves and branches under your feet making a soothing voice when you step on them, the cacophony sending shivers down your spine as you notice Jaemin turning his head around every once in a while, as if to see if you’re still really there, following him.

There’s not even an hour until the world ends. You have limited time to get home to your parents, you have only something around 40 minutes to get to them and say goodbye. The fact is still new and strange to wrap your head around, but it’s there and it’s present, chewing on your bones.

A metal structure makes its presence known when Jaemin turns the corner and shows you the spacious place with the palm of his hand. You quickly recognise the black door and the dusty brown exterior to be the bunker shown on the TV, the bunker advertised with the price being higher than what your wage for the year is. The price was astronomically high, making you wonder-- is this how much a human’s life is worth? Is your life not worth just as much? Are you not on the same level just because you can’t afford it?

Glossy, empty eyes reach yours when he turns his head to look at you. “This is… this is it.” he nods, teeth chewing on his insides. “I would invite you in, but I can’t, the oxygen is only for three people and-”

“It’s okay,” you nod. You make sure he doesn’t feel guilty, because even though you’re frustrated at how this world works and your whole life, your motto was ‘eat the rich’, it’s not really Na Jaemin’s fault, is it?

It’s not his fault that he was born into a wealthy family. It’s not his fault that you, on the other hand, wasn’t. It’s not his fault that the world is ending. It’s not his fault that the bunkers are so expensive. It’s not his fault he can afford to survive and you can’t. He’s just doing what he has to do. This is a survival game and he is doing the most with the advantages he was given. How could you ever blame him?

“You have like… 35 minutes to get back now. You should make it by car, if you really speed up.” he says, playing with his fingers. This all feels weird-- it feels wrong. Are you saying goodbye to him? Are you finally letting go of the strange friendship you managed to create with the boy? It all feels like saying goodbye on a first date, but there was nothing romantic in this scenario. It was awkward. And at the same time, it hurt.

It hurt to say goodbye to the only boy you ever called a friend.

You take in a shaky breath, looking around. You see the leaves above you waving at you in the wind, making you wonder how much the world will suffer when the missiles make them burn down and disappear. You’re suddenly glad the bunker is so deep in the ground, making sure no missile will ever reach it, protecting Jaemin and his family from death.

Is this how caring for someone feels? Being glad they’re going to be okay?

“I’m- I…” you start, but he cuts you off. His bag falls to the ground when he takes it off his shoulder and shuffles around in it, taking out the thing that was the beginning of this all-- your dear grandmother’s necklace, golden and shiny with youth. His hand reaches out to you, the small rose hitting the rays of the first sun in the morning, his grip a little shaky.

“Here,” he says, offering you the jewelry, “sorry for… making you wait so long. And for taking it with me and forcing you to stay…” he mumbles, when reality hits both of you, making you decide to do what's best and chuckle at him, taking him by the hand.

“Na Jaemin, I would have taken the necklace from you the first moment I could if I really wanted to. I was raised on the streets, remember?” you grin, shaking your head in disbelief. “I guess I wanted a little road trip before I go,” you shrug.

Eyes shimmering in the purple hues dwell into yours, sincerity written in his features. “I didn’t…” he mumbles, then shakes his head as well, chuckling. “Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, walking a little so you see the edge of the forest, the city far in front of you behind the spacious fields greeting you for one last time. You see the purple hues making its presence known through the humongous trees, the sun rising for one last time, greeting you with the beauty of the act you loved to watch so many times in the morning. It’s beautiful and it feels like the sky was saving the best for last-- to give the poor people one last thing to fawn upon, one last beginning and make it the prettiest it could ever be, saying goodbye to the children running around the earth with sadness in their heart. “I guess it’s near.” you say, nodding, “the end, I mean.”

Cold fingers, despite the outside temperature, hit the back of your neck as Jaemin places the necklace once belonging to your grandma around your neck, hot breath tickling your back as he smooths his hands down your shoulders. Goosebumps appear all over your arms, just like the last time he held you, your fingers playing with the rose on your neck, lost in thought.

“It’s only about… 15 minutes before the end now,” he says.

Weird. You didn’t even realise you’ve been staring at the sunrise, wordlessly, for such a long time now.

“You should go inside, then,” you whisper, standing up and turning around to look at him. The face he’s wearing does nothing to comfort you, but deep inside, you know that you’re already much greeted with the fact that you’re going to die. It’s not like you haven’t wished for it to happen when you were bullied in middle school. Now that it’s happening for real, it doesn’t feel as welcoming anymore.

He shakes his head. Long legs reach the door of the bunker, his slender fingers typing in the code to the bunker. You watch him from close, your feet slowly reaching his figure right in front of the bunker, when he takes you by the hand and moves you to the open door.

“You should go.”

Stern eyes stare into yours, hand gripping your wrist as your breathing catches in your throat. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jaemin.”

“Just go. Go down, save yourself.” he says, fierce eyes shooting you down like daggers.

“What are you even talking about? What’s this?”

Confusion. You don’t feel confused a lot-- it’s an emotion you know so little of in your whole, short life. You always figure things out. There’s no time for confusion when you live on the streets. You either survive, or you don’t. But this-- this is different.

“Go down, Y/N. There’s only space for one of us. Just go.” he says, gritting his teeth.

“I’m not taking your space,” you shake your head, still confused.

“It was never my space to begin with,” he chuckles, throwing his hands into the air in frustration.

“What do you mean-”

“Look, Y/N,” he says, taking a deep breath in, chewing on his bottom lip, before he speaks up again, “where’s the difference between the two of us? Why am I the one that gets to survive? Fuck, I don’t want to survive! My life sucks. My life fucking sucks, okay? There’s no use in me staying here. So I am begging you to go down and live-”

“Don’t say that,” you mumble, trying to calm him down. Your hand shoots to grasp his, sweaty palms coming into contact with his cold skin.

“I’m useless,” he mutters, staring deep into your eyes, “I can’t even drive. I can’t do anything. I am clueless- the kids are dying all around the world and I am doing nothing. There are world problems bigger than my own head happening and I know nothing about them, I don’t know how to stop them, it’s just… I have power, but at the same time, I don’t. I only have money,” he snickers. “I don’t… I don’t have anything else.”

“Who am I going to live here for? Everyone’s gone anyway,” you shake your head, “don’t be ridiculous. Go down there with your family. Go to your mum. Go to your dad. Be happy you’re all together, be happy you get to live with them!” you desperately plead.

You feel the clock ticking, the minutes growing closer and closer. You don’t want him to die like this. You don’t want him to end just because he’s feeling hopeless. You don’t get it-- you don’t realise the worth of his words.

“Y/N, you don’t understand. I wasn’t- I wasn’t even supposed to be here. I hid from my parents when they went here, because fuck, I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to survive-”

“Don’t say that.” you shake your head.

“Can you say that you lived your life? Can you say it was worth it? Because I for sure know it wasn’t. I didn’t come with my parents because I didn’t want to.” he lightly chuckles, making you snap out, annoyance written all over your features now.

“Why did you make me go all the way here, then?!”

Silence.

Dead silence spreads through the forest, the weight of your emotions sitting on his shoulders. You could have stayed with your family. You could have died with them, you could have said goodbye to them one last time. He made you go all the way here just to die, because he was selfish and didn’t want to die alone.

“Huh? Why are we here then, Jaemin? You either fucking go inside that fucking bunker for making me die alone, or I kick your ass down the stairs, but there’s no way I went here for nothing. And you best believe I am not taking your spot in the bunker. I’m not selfish like you, you fucking-”

“It was all for you!” he screams, jolting you awake from your frustration.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“We went all the way here so you could crawl in there instead of me.”

“This is not about me, though, Jaemin, this is about you and your selfish needs and your incoherent brain-”

Soft lips invite themselves onto yours, shutting you up as you get lost in the strange feeling. A boy with doe eyes kisses you, stealing away the first time you ever emotionally interacted with anyone, taking your breath away as his shaky hands land on your cheeks to keep you close to him. He pulls away shortly after, forehead pressed against yours as he keeps staring into your eyes and whispers against your lips.

“Get the fuck inside, okay?” he desperately pleads. “Get inside. It will break my heart if you don’t.”

“Jaemin…”

You don’t know what made him make you go with him that time in the pawn shop. You are sure the feeling of fondness and perhaps something even stronger hanging around in the air right now is not what made him want to save you, you bet he didn’t even know it will turn out this way-- with his lips against yours-- when he made you travel across the country for a single piece of jewelry. It’s all a mystery to you, and perhaps, it’s all a mystery to Na Jaemin as well.

Was it sympathy? Or did he simply just feel bad for you?

Did you make him decide this way just because you went there to steal something so important to you that you didn’t want to die without it, that it made him desire keeping you alive, if it was only for that one single thing?

You don’t know. You truly don’t. But there’s one thing you know, and that is that you don’t have much time. You are going to die at the hands of capitalism and conspiracy theories in 5 minutes.

“I can’t go there. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew I stole your spot.”

“I’m giving it to you, though. Please, just go there, please-”

“Please.” you shut him up, tone of voice stern. He knows what you want. He knows you want him to go there, to lock himself up in the bunker and survive the storm with his parents. Na Jaemin decided against that a long, long time ago, though.

And not even you can change his mind.

And when you stare into his eyes the last time, understanding you can’t move mountains even if you really tried, you do the last thing you can think of before the end really takes its place--

with purple skies illuminating the act, a missile coming down to earth with astronomical speed and noise louder than everything you’ve ever heard of, you take his lips with yours for one last time, hearing the automatic door of the bunker close behind your back when you kiss him, feeling the emotion you’ve learnt is love the first time yesterday, with Na Jaemin guiding you through your last days. It feels too quick and too sudden, but you guess your emotions had no time for denial.

You didn’t have much, but with him, your last moments felt worth it.

Your world ends with a missile hitting the ground and a boy in an obnoxious hawaiian shirt kissing you on the lips, smiling into the act. Aquamarine fills your hearts when he wipes the stray tear falling down your cheek, getting ready for the impact, when you realise,

Na Jaemin was ready to give you everything he had.

taglist: @grungiejaems

#kokonomi #nct dream #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream fic #nct dream drabble #nct dream scenario #nct dream fanfic #nct fluff #nct angst #nct fic #nct drabble #nct scenario #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin fic #jaemin fanfic #jaemin drabble #jaemin scenario

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libertyreads · 3 years

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Underhyped Books--

These are some of the books on my shelves that I think are under-hyped on the Book-ternet as some people call it. I think a lot of these standalones or series are under represented in the book community online. (Going from top to bottom, left to right.)

1. The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes-- Maybe I’m biased because this is one of my favorite authors. I discovered her a year or two ago and have become obsessed. The latest series of hers is going to be an all time favorite for me. Or at least the first one was. This book came out this past fall so I know that’s probably part of the reason for the under representation. But, for the love of all things spooky and puzzle-y, read this damn book.

2. House of Salt and Sorrows by Erin A. Craig-- This is a 12 dancing princesses retelling that has some turns no one expects. It has a gothic/horror/mystery/thriller element in a creepy mansion. What’s not to love? It’s so perfect for the fall. I have seen a couple of people talk about this one, but it’s not getting the love it truly deserves.

3. The One by John Marrs-- I only read this one this past month so maybe I’m the person who’s late to the party here. But I just need people to read this and love it as much as I do. I was literally gasping out loud and saying things like, “No. No, they wouldn’t do that. Oh. My. God. They did that.” Thankfully there is a Netflix adaptation coming out on March 12th.

4. In the Hall with the Knife by Diana Peterfreund-- This one got me hooked so fast. I blame the 1000 times I watched Clue (1985 with Tim Curry) as a kid. This is a take on Clue that involves a boarding school in an isolated Maine town. It’s probably the fact that this is so easy to read and is probably on the middle end of the YA age range that keeps this from being so popular. But I cannot tell you how much I loved this book when I read it this past fall. It’s the perfect late fall/early winter read.

5. Sky in the Deep by Adrienne Young-- A YA Viking Fantasy story about two rival tribes. The way it felt like this book dropped you into this world and you didn’t come up for air until the book was over? Amazing. I think I’ve only heard about it in passing which is a damn shame.

6. The Queen’s Rising by Rebecca Ross-- This was one of those books that sat on my shelf for years before I found the time for it and afterward regretted not reading it sooner. This is a YA Fantasy that includes a fallen kingdom that is overtaken and must find the strength to stand up to their oppressors. It’s only a duology so this series was so quick for me to read.

7. Old Magic by Marianne Curley-- A backlist Fantasy novel from 2000. This is probably the oldest book on this list and so the nostalgia is a big factor here. But this is about a girl going back in time to prevent an evil wizard from putting a curse on her friend’s family bloodline. This does a good job of pulling the reader into the setting as well.

8. Fable by Adrienne Young-- This is a more recent release so I understand that a lot of people may not have gotten around to it yet, but I wish they would. I need someone to talk to about this book. This is a YA Fantasy novel about a girl who gets dropped on a deserted island after her mother is killed in a storm on the sea. Her only goal for the next four years is to find a way off the island and back to her father who is the biggest trader in the Narrows. The setting is great, very pirate-y, and a classic found family trope. As a whole, I just think Adrienne Young is a really underrated writer.

9. Turtles All the Way Down by John Green-- Being a fan of John Green’s has been a bit of a roller coaster ride as he got more and more popular only to plummet as people started picking his work apart. But I think this book is him being truly vulnerable as writer. He suffers from OCD similar to the OCD the main character suffers in this novel. And as someone who has been diagnosed with OCD I found this to be pretty haunting to read. I know that this book isn’t a beloved John Green book and I think that’s a real shame.

10. Written in Red by Anne Bishop-- This series is a bit weird for me since this isn’t my usual genre. This is an Adult Urban Fantasy about a blood seer who runs away from the institution she’s been kept in and finds her way to the local group of mythological creatures who hold a lot of power influence over the local government. There are werewolves, shifters, vampires...etc. who take up a huge section of this city and there are a ton of politics throughout the series. But the thing that I loved the most about it is that every story has a section that is so slice of life before the big action happens and those moments were so warm and cozy. The big action at the end of the novels all work to bring the main characters closer. There’s a romance between the human seer and the alpha werewolf which I didn’t expect to enjoy as much as I did. Also, I read most of this series while I was stuck in bed sick with covid so I think the distraction added another level of fondness from me.

11. Rebel of the Sands by Alwyn Hamilton-- Where. Are. My. YA. Fantasy. People. AT?! Why is no one talking about this series?! This a YA Desert Fantasy with some amazing characters and a rebellion hiding out in the desert from the people in power. Found family tropes. Magic. Mystery. Stop sleeping on this series already! My only real complaint is that I wish I had the original cover because that one is so beautiful.

12. Ace of Shades by Amanda Foody-- I originally got the first book in this series in a subscription box but held off reading it because I hadn’t heard of this series before then. But it’s one of those series that you wish you had read as soon as you had gotten it. This is a YA Fantasy novel set in a fictional town that looks/feels like a combination of 1920s-ish New York and Las Vegas. The Shadow Game series is about a girl going to the big city to find her adoptive mother who’s gone missing while there for work. But she’s spent her whole life learning how to be a proper lady and in the City of Sin anything can happen. The magic system here is so, so well done. It’s something I haven’t seen before or since which is refreshing when the main thing you read is Fantasy.

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arctimon · 3 years

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The Beta Team That Never Was - Fanfiction Corner (BH6 Edition)

So all of this Peni Parker comic talk actually got me thinking about the process of her being included in my fanfiction.

I wish I could tell you it was a long and arduous process, but...

OK, maybe some of it was hard. But when you have a virtually endless supply of Marvel characters that you can use for possible teammates for Big Hero 6, you have to go with your gut.

We all know that the team will be Robbie, Aspen, Peni, Doreen (eventually), and Kate. But there were six other candidates that could have been in the mix as well.

And five of them have their emblems here:

These were made before I actually knew how to make hero emblems properly.

Some of them you might recognize. Some you may not. But we’re going to go through them all, from left to right.

And to start...it’s really hard to draw tiny hearts.

1.) Riri Williams/Ironheart - Ironically enough, it was around the time that Hiro started chasing Sirque around the town in “Portal Enemy” that I started brainstorming her. A teenage genius, stuck as to what to make, sees “Captain Cutie” and the chase on the news and gets brainstorming.

Thus, the Power Armor is born.

And she gets so excited that she bolts off to San Fransokyo to show her idol what she’s created.

And then, as per the Big Hero 6 Fanfiction Clause states...shenanigans ensue.

It was an interesting possibility, but the thought of Ironheart was really late into me doing the backstories of the people that I had chosen, so she was pushed aside. I don’t personally see me revisiting her in the future, but who knows?

2.) Nadia Van Dyne/The Wasp - Back when Karmi had first been pulled out of SFIT, there was a young woman who wanted to recruit her into a special organization. It was one that brought together the greatest female minds in their fields, and Karmi was on said recruitment list.

The organization?

Genius In action Research Labs, or G.I.R.L. for short. And it was led by the Wasp’s daughter, Nadia Pym (later changed to Nadia Van Dyne).

Plot-wise, this was probably the person that I got the farthest with, since the story would’ve been more of a focus on Karmi than anyone else. Also, the idea of writing someone with Bipolar Disorder (which Nadia was confirmed to have in her latest solo run) was intriguing if nothing else.

Unfortunately, it sort of dried up from there. A lack of a central conflict, uncertainty as to how many of the other girls (Taina, Priya, Shay, and Ying) to have, and how to handle her actual powers stopped it cold.

But seriously, how do you write in the ability to shrink to microscopic size? That’s not really a thing, even in a world as futuristic as San Fransokyo.

3.) America Chavez/Ms. America - The mere idea of a Superman-esque Latina teenager was enticing, especially because America, in her relatively short comic history, was with the Ultimates and the West Coast Avengers (meaning there was a possible Kate/Hawkeye angle). Making start-shaped portals was the Silent Sparrow angle, and the all-around badass, headstrong attitude would be the counter to Honey Lemon’s more nurturing personality.

But being from an alternate universe (which has very recently been retconned in the comics in part because she will be appearing in the MCU and Doctor Strange 2), no real villain to play off of, and becoming possibly way too overpowered for the BH6 universe, she was scrapped.

It’s quite a shame. I really like her in the comics that she’s in. Perhaps there will be an opportunity for her somewhere down the line...

4.) Alison Blaire/Dazzler - A pop star with light-based powers?

Or better yet, a struggling artist with acoustikinesis?

Her power to convert sound into light was what originally drew me to her. Something that could be made into a technological ability, unique enough to put a (pardon the pun) spotlight on it.

An actual blonde instead of whatever HL’s hair color is.

Heck, she even has a half-sister named Lois that could have been the antagonist (death tough, destruction waves, and the like).

But she quickly got lost in the fold. Better ideas (like Kate and Doreen) got more of my brainstorming, and she was eventually given up on.

But funnily enough...

It’s almost like she’s already in the show.

(See, for the people who may be new, one of the many Marvel theories that I’ve touched upon is that High Voltage is actually this universe’s version of Dazzler. Juniper is Alison and Barb is...well...Barbara London, Alison’s mom).

Hey, @baymaksu totally agrees with me kinda sort of.

5.) Cindy Moon/Silk - I knew right from the get-go that I wanted a Spider-person on the beta team. I also knew that I didn’t want Peter.

No offense to Peter Parker. He’s fine. But there’s a billion other Spiders out there, and I wanted someone out of the normal vein of Peter, as well as even Miles and Gwen.

And in came Cindy.

Locked away in The Bunker because of her spider powers manifesting, she was eventually released by Peter and thus began her entrance into the main Marvel world.

Her “unique ability” is her improved Spider-Sense, which Peter has said is even better than his own. That, plus her other powers, brought her the closest out of anyone to being a member of the Big Hero 6 Beta Team.

As we all know, however, Peni ended up getting the spot over Cindy (for the family angle with Hiro and the giant robot that she pilots). On the other hand, Cindy would later make her debut in the stinger of the last chapter of Along Came The S.P.I.D.E.R., along with Miles, Anya, and Joey.

Unlike Riri, Nadia, America, and Alison, Cindy and the rest of Peni’s little Spider Society are going to be showing up in future stories. And if I can get everything in order, they will be starring in their own story set in the Big Hero 6 universe.

Finally, I have no emblem for them, but the honorable mention goes to...

6.) Lunella Lafayette/Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur - Yes, there was a point in time where I was seriously considering putting a nine-year-old super genius and a giant red T-rex into my stories.

Ignoring the giant...”red flag” here, the reason why Luna never made it is the same reason why I haven’t put Rishi in anything yet. It’s because I don’t really know what to do with supergeniuses that young. Hiro is at least a teenager and thus has teenager-y problems to fall back on (like puberty and Karmi and all that jazz), but a nine-year-old? That’s a little too extreme for me.

When I was nine, I was busy playing with sticks in my backyard with my brother, not solving unsolvable puzzles from Bruce Banner.

...All that, and the giant dinosaur.

But hey, at least Disney is jumping on the MG/DD train. That’s good to see.

Crossover potential, perhaps?

P.S. - As I was finishing putting this post together, it occurred to me that I may get this possible question in the comments, so I’m going to head it off at the pass.

“You know that all of your possible superheroes are girls, right?”

First of all...sexist.

Second of all...true.

That was about 90% on accident. The actual team (Robbie, Aspen, Peni, Doreen, and Kate) has only one guy on it (two if you count Eli, three if you count Tippy-Toe).

I don’t really have a good explanation for that. I like all superheroes, but I think that the girl and woman superheroes need some spotlight, you know? I could have pulled people like Namor or Miles or the male Hawkeye into the mix, but to be honest, I find the characters I chose more interesting than a lot of the guy characters I was contemplating.

Of course, nothing is stopping any of you from using those characters in your stories. Be my guest, not that you really need my permission or anything.

But you can’t take Aspen. Aspen is mine. (Spoiler: Aspen is not mine.)

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inkskinned · 4 years

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When the honey showed up, we all just took it inside. That was one of the things about it - it was always a little warm, always in the same simple jar and the nice plaid bow. Handmade-like. Most of us put it in our pantries or in the back of our cabinets, some put it in the fridge. we just thought to ourselves: gee, what a wonderful present.

I don’t know how long it took before we all had one. For a while, the most that would happen was two-minute feel-good op ed pieces in local newspapers. People would run little letters to the editor to find out the “culprit”. Sometimes there were faux-serious “investigations” when that parent freaked out about the possibility of drugs in honey. Most of the time, it ended quickly. After all, it was a nice gift from a neighbor, and it was yours. that was another thing. A house could be 122 people, and we’d all find our own jar on the doorstep, one at a time. we would know when it was ours and when it wasn’t, no matter how alike they looked. nobody ate it, at first. It was yours, and you wouldn’t eat it, and you couldn’t eat another person’s. it just wasn’t done. and the thing is - in that imaginary house, of 122 people? we’d all buy other honey. it was both there and took up space - but none of us thought of it as actually existing. we’d put down our storebought honey right next to it and think - why did i buy another? i’ve wanted to try this one for a while. and then the thought would simply be out of our head, because this is our third bag of baby carrots we have bought to let spoil again.

it was that one person who mentioned it on youtube. actually i think it was a vimeo “urban legends” series. some person with 6 followers who deleted like instantly. but then 6 people said something similar: everyone they knew had this one specific honey story. and then 12. and then all of a sudden we all woke up to “#honeyonthedoorstep” globally trending. we all posted our pictures of our honey and called each other liars and got into discourse fights with vegans and people without a sweet tooth. In 24 hours, it was running the media. 9-at-night serious news anchors leaned over to each other and said “now john, did you hear about this?” and despite their disbelief, they’d admit: i got the honey too. I think somewhere in march. maybe around the 5th. but i never ate it or thought anything of it. i just thought - what a nice gift.

By the end of the week, there were YouTube challenges and instagram memes and a netflix miniseries in the works. Lots of people tried to eat their honey, and most who “succeeded” were deemed a hoax - but truth be told? it’s not good tv to watch someone pick up honey and say “actually it’s not ready” or something similar and just decide to go do something else. i tried once, winedrunk and thinking i could be famous because it’s just honey. and i remember thinking that exact thing - it’s not ready. i realized i needed to go do dishes, this was stupid and kind of cringey.

and people freaked out, of course. outside of the jokes were parents who were asking if their children would get a jar one day, if this was a one-time thing. there were so many conspiracy theories the government finally had to say something (not that any of us were actually listening), there were massive hunts to find “the team of honey dispatchers”, there were plenty of false confessions, there were rallies to destroy the things. i don’t know if anyone actually did, because in the end? it was just a jar of honey, and it was yours, and it would be a shame to throw it at the floor just because the internet told you so. I moved three times that year - grad school, job, other better job. i always took mine with me. it wasn’t a real choice, it was just... like taking a plate that belonged to your grandmother, or carrying a song stuck in your head. it was just something that was going to come with, but it bore no special attention. and then back into the pantry it went.

two weeks later? we all just... moved on from talking about honey. it was in some memes, it was in BuzzFeed’s “top 5 weirdest stories (that are actually true)”, it was going to be the central plot of books and horror movies. but it wasn’t interesting, not really, anymore. it was like saying “all people need food”. it was just true, and not really changing. every consecutive conspiracy video got less likes, and by the end of the year, it was old enough to be a staple in bad stand-up comedy and in coming-of-age children’s shows.

nobody believed the first ones who ate it. the most traction that those posts got were from friends and family who barely remembered the whole fad. we all just figured it was a weird annual resurgence kind of thing.

but then people were definitely, absolutely, 100% eating their honey. i think i heard about one of my coworkers first. i didn’t know her; she was in another department. she told everyone it was very similar to “normal” honey. just a little tarter than she’d expected.

twitter was in an uproar. the honey was sweet to some. spicy to others. horrible, bitter, like a thousand stingers. it was perfect, it tasted like summer. most people said: it’s just honey, and absolutely regular.

those of us who weren’t ready were biting our fingernails for a while, going to our pantries, wondering - what the fuck do i mean it’s not ready? but it wasn’t ready.

like i said, it’s warm, always. But you just... know. one day you realize you really want honey on toast. or honey on tea, honey on a banana, just... honey. i remember opening it, but it didn’t feel like any more interesting than going to the cabinet for honey ever feels. i pour mine, usually, skipping a spoon because i’m usually too lazy. i was already in the middle of my meal before i realized - this is the honey. it’s not just a normal breakfast, it’s the breakfast, holy shit.

mine is just, you know. honey. it has a little hint of spice and sweet to it, which i actually quite like. it reminds me of this red pepper jelly my family used to get, and it makes me happy. but in the end? it’s honey. i don’t feel like i’m connected to a seventh realm. it’s good on oatmeal and bad in coffee no matter what some of you will tell me.

it’s just, you know. once you get your jar, and it’s ready, you have a little honey roughly every 24ish hours. it’s nothing absurd. it’s just honey, i mean - it’s like saying “you’re alive, so at some point, you should probably eat.” Most of us, it hasn’t really changed our schedules. it doesn’t seem to ever run out, which is good, because we’re always forgetting to check to see if we need more before we go shopping. for most of us? you don’t die if you miss a few days, even a few weeks, you don’t go crazy trying to get it back. sure, there’s weirdass cultists who worship it, but most of us just seem to think - it’s nice to have, and it’s okay to want this thing.

now, there’s some stuff out there, you know, about what it all “means”. and honestly, we all notice things. i’m not the only one who has seen that good people tend to think their honey tastes good and eat it normally. bad people tend to eat their honey frequently but hate every second of the eating. there are plenty who will snort and say “i’m a good person and i think it tastes like dirt” and plenty who will say “i’m a shit person and i think it tastes like the summer i finally kissed her”. and i don’t know, not the way i knew if it was ready, but it feels like a simple thing amidst all the messy. and it’s probably helpful that i think mine is, like most people’s, just a nice in-the-middle. i mean, the other day i heard it asked like a star sign - what’s your honey like?

there’s this one thing, though, you know. i choose to believe, because it might make me secretly happy. it’s like believing in nessie. i know realistically it’s probably just hearsay. but there’s this underground rumbling that, over time, the honey changes. just a little, every day, unnoticeable to most of us who go to work and do our best by others but still sometimes steal toilet paper. there’s these stories of people who made it rich by selling out their friends, who stole patents, who argue that others should charge for insulin - that they liked the honey, at first, but over time, it’s gone rotten. and similarly, every so often, there’s these stories of people who were normal “regular” honey people, who helped someone out of the bottom. who chose to be just a little bit better than they were the day before. who had moments of decisive kindness that changed them. they all say the same thing: since then, the honey has been amazing, and they work to keep it that way.

my grandmother and my mother were never surprised. they have this saying about bees and their secrets. my mother said to me: we have always had these tiny angels. they’re just giving us each a taste of the world we are making.

my grandmother later tells me, while watering the flowers, almost the exact same thing: they will haunt us when they go, because they keep books in their combs. and they see us giants, and no matter who we lie to? the world of bees will know.

#spilled ink #prose #short story #honey #i originally wrote this in my car while binge eating doritos happy mardi gras style #but then tumblr deleted it lmao bc i walked between 2 wifi connections #so if it sucks its bc i had to half-remember a good version

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homerforsure · 3 years

Text

Whumptober No. 5

betrayal / misunderstanding / broken nose

(Hockey AU)

***

He’d always thought the night Jay took the picture would be the worst of it.

Buck’s hands were clutching the rails of Jay’s iron headboard, where Jay had wanted them, where Jay had placed them after stripping Buck of his clothes, saying “Don’t let go.” His slow, sexy, predatory smile was the last thing Buck saw before the silky black blindfold was tied in place. Jay was gone after that, climbing off the bed, telling Buck how good he looked and what he thought he might do and Buck had arched into the words until he was begging to be touched.

“Be patient,” Jay had purred, appeasing Buck with a single finger drawn shiveringly down his thigh. Buck could feel that he’d climbed back onto the bed, but Jay was too far away and he wasn’t teasing; he just wasn’t there. Stretching out longer on the mattress, trying to find him, he’d said, “What’s going on up there?”

Then the flash went off, the bright light cutting through the thin fabric of the blindfold. Jay swore, “Shit. Fuck,” and when Buck let go of the bed with one hand (one hand because maybe he misunderstood, maybe it was fine, maybe he’d laugh and put his hand back and they’d-)to push the tie away, he’d seen Jay, crouched above him with his phone in his hand.

If he’d asked, Buck might even have agreed. He liked posing. He liked having his body appreciated. But Jay’s expression was the alarm of being caught red-handed and Buck knew, knew with a sinking feeling of dread and betrayal, that Jay wasn’t just taking a memento to savor later. He was taking a picture of Rangers center Evan Buckley, naked, smirking, and vulnerable, to use exactly the way those kinds of pictures get used.

Buck forced Jay to delete the photo, made him prove that he’d done it, and then had somehow managed to get himself dressed and down to the street to get a ride without throwing up. His face burned the whole drive home and for half of the night.

And that was the worst of it until five years later. In a new city. When Buck was finally playing the way he’d always known he could. When he was finally earning the respect of his team and the hockey world at large. When he started thinking he might stay. That was when the anonymously authored post was retweeted and reblogged and shared and gleefully discussed on all corners of the hockey internet.

MY WILD NIGHT WITH AN NHL ALL STAR

The Good, the Bad, and the Kinky

His agent’s was the first text he saw when he got done with practice: “Do NOT respond yet. Call me first.”

It had taken another couple messages before Buck realized what he wasn’t supposed to respond to and in the meantime, the texts kept rolling in. Half of them from numbers he didn’t even have saved in his contacts.

“Dude, is that shit true?”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“You dog 😜”

“You never told me you were into that 👀”

“Ignore it, Buck.”

“We’re all with you.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Hey if you need something to take your mind off of it💋💋💋”

“Evan, Mike from the Tribune. If you want to set the record straight, please give me a call.”

From the looks on the faces of his teammates as they tried to pretend they weren’t stealing glances at him, they were getting messages of their own. Hen was the first one to start to approach him with a look of concern, but Buck avoided her, grabbing his bag and sneaking out the door without bothering to hit the stationary bike like usual.

“What the hell did you do to piss this guy off?” Geoff said as soon as he answered Buck’s call. “More importantly, what else does he have on you?”

“Nothing!” Buck answered, nearly merging directly into another car as his hands shook on the steering wheel. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know, Buckley. None of my other clients get up to shit like this. You need to get yourself a publicist. I’m going to get in touch with Grant and make sure they’re not already shopping you.”

His agent hung up and Buck’s phone continued to buzz and chime all the way back to his apartment.

There were cameras outside which there almost never were. Mostly only hockey fans cared about pictures of hockey players and the press was limited to the arena and their official events. Maybe one or two regular guys who Buck knew by name. It was just his luck that he lived in LA where there were almost more cameras than there were disasters to photograph.

“Buck! Do you know who the author is?”

“Have your teammates seen the post?”

“Are you worried about other former partners coming out with similar stories?”

Buck pushed past them, but the questions followed him inside. His phone didn’t stop. His mentions were a nightmare on every platform. He shut Twitter as soon as he opened it and saw his name in the trending topics. The statements put out by the Kings and Buck’s agent condemning the piece and the interest in it were drowned out by outlet after outlet picking up the post and sharing it out wider and wider.

Can you guess this NHL player by his sexcapades? (Hint: It’s exactly who you think)

Hockey players used to be the humble, hard working gentleman of sports. What happened?

Should the Kings trade Evan Buckley? Can they?

Nash should make Buckley sit for embarrassing the team like this.

Aw, man, don’t do that. Sitting’s a little tough for Buckley right now

🤣

And I thought it couldn’t get worse than the time he fucked that mascot in Carolina

{This post may contain explicit content}

😵‍💫

🤮

Excuse you, Gritty has standards

[98 more posts]

Whether from a latent masochistic streak or just because he didn’t want to look away and find that the story had gotten bigger while he was gone, Buck couldn’t stop refreshing the pages. He read Jay’s words over and over again as his stomach roiled. If it had all been lies, Buck wouldn’t have spent the morning pressed into the corner of his couch, hoodie pulled up over his head like armor. If it had all been lies, he could have made a fiery statement, condemning the mystery author and condemning everyone who thought they had a right to consume and critique another person’s sex life.

There were some lies, of course, but it was true enough that Buck’s heart clenched with it. True enough that he could remember how he felt when it was happening, during the three times they’d been together before the photo. Soft and desired and joyful. There was a part of him that was still exposed to Jay, that always would be, this man with the sharp wit and the sharp smile who got Buck bare, begging and biddable all to make him a joke. As he read the smug asides in the unforgiving narrative, he could hear Jay’s voice in his ear.

The sixth time he read it, there was an addition.

Edit: Ha ha wow this really blew up. Doing an AMA at 6 eastern if you’re looking for more dirty details.

And for the first time, Buck felt the burn of tears in his eyes. Furious. Powerless.

The buzz of his phone started making his skin crawl so he shoved it between the couch cushions and tried not to think about it. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around, rocking just a little as he felt panic creeping in.

What else could Jay possibly have to say? Would he make up more and more audacious lies as long as he had an audience? Would an NHL team want to touch Buck when he was done?

Were there more pictures?

It was the fourth night, the night that Buck caught Jay. Not the first night with the blindfold. What if? Buck shuddered, sinking lower, deeper into the couch, folding himself tighter and smaller, trying to crush the mounting, hopeless fear. He was there for a long time.

When the gentle knock hit his door, Buck jumped and then crouched tighter into his ball. He didn’t answer. There was no one he could face right now.

The knock came again.

Then the door opened.

Buck was up like a shot, nearly falling over the coffee table as he whirled around toward the intruder. Eddie stood in the doorway, holding up one empty hand and pulling his key out of the door with the other.

“Just me.”

“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie to hide the fact that he’d been digging his nails into his palms for the last hour.

“Well, you took off. And you weren’t answering your phone.”

Hot shame flushed across Buck’s skin. Eddie knew. Eddie had seen the article and the articles about the article and the tweets about the articles and been shouted at by the cameras outside and Buck wanted to sink into the floor.

“Notice you didn’t take the hint.”

The attitude in Buck’s response didn’t faze Eddie at all, “Do I ever?”

And that almost made Buck feel like smiling, because no, no he didn’t. He said, “No. But there’s always a first time.”

Eddie came a little further into the apartment and Buck felt crowded. Eddie always seemed to take up so much space around him. Maybe it was just that Buck felt his presence most strongly than anyone else’s. Especially when he was like this: arms crossed, focused, not letting Buck wiggle out of a conversation that he didn’t want to have.

This time was no exception. When Buck turned and went back to the couch, compulsively refreshing the comments on Jay’s post again as he went, Eddie followed right after him.

“I came by to make sure you were okay,” he said and Buck flinched again, hating that Eddie knew. Hating that the team knew.

“I’m fine,” he answered, keeping his eyes down and away from Eddie. “Coach is going to rip me a new one tomorrow, but my agent hasn’t called me to tell me I’m being traded so yet so I guess that’s-”

“Who the fuck said you were being traded?” His voice was loud enough that Buck looked up, surprised to see the intensity of anger in Eddie’s face.

“THN. NHL Network did a round table on it too, but they didn’t think anyone would take me. Oh, then Kirk Davis did a radio interview.”

Everyone had picked up those soundbites. Even through the heavily bleeped broadcast, the future hall-of-famer’s opinion on Buck had been crystal clear. At least that wasn’t new information for Buck. Davis had all but refused to shake Buck’s hand when he first joined the Predators and was a big part of why his tenure there had only lasted until the trade deadline.

“Kirk Davis is a fucking asshole. There’s a reason they never made him captain.”

“He’s not the only one who said it.”

“Then he’s not the only fucking asshole out there.” When he didn’t respond, Eddie came around the couch to stand face to face with him, noticing the open comments page as he did. “Christ, have you been reading that shit all day?”

Somehow it made Buck laugh. “It’s the same shit I’ve been reading for 8 years. Since I got drafted. Buckley’s a distraction to his team. Buckley’s an embarrassment to the game of hockey. Buckley cares more about getting laid and partying than he does about winning. It’s guys like Buckley that hurt the NHL.”

His voice pitched up as he recited the familiar accusations, staring somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder because Eddie already knew all this about him. Eddie was the opposite of Buck in every way. He would never make himself the center of attention. He’d never do anything to make his teammates ashamed to play with him. He’d never be so stupid as to go home with a guy like Jay.

“Buckley’s finally getting what he deserves.” Buck whispered.

“Look at me,” Eddie said. When Buck couldn’t, Eddie reached out, setting a light hand on his shoulder that got tighter when Buck tried to shrug out of the hold. “Hey. Look at me.”

He moved his head into the space where Buck was staring into the middle distance and waited. Until Buck couldn’t help but flick his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Once he did, he found a furious compassion that startled him.

“You don’t deserve this, Buck. You did nothing to deserve this. It is not your fault. Nobody in our room thinks it is. Bobby doesn’t think it is.”

Buck shuddered under the weight of the words. He wanted to pull himself free and he wanted to step in closer, “My agent told me I should own it. Post a couple thirst traps and a middle finger on instagram and just wave it off like another classic Evan Buckley weekend.”

There was a time when he would have. Times when he had. But this wasn’t a ridiculous paparazzi photo outside a bar, it was… It was private. It hurt.

As if reading his mind, Eddie said, “That’s not what this is. Fire him if he wants to make you pretend this is okay.”

“I just keep thinking if I was anyone else. If I was someone good, they’d all go after him and not me. I didn’t even do anything to him, Eddie. I didn’t-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie tugged him forward and his arms were tight around his back. Buck should have tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help but fall against his chest and cling on. “You are someone good,” Eddie said, making Buck’s breath hitch. “And if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s wrong. They’re wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Buck confessed into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I was so stupid back then. I just wanted- I wanted him to like me. And I’m still- It still hurts that he didn’t. How fucked up is that? He did this. And I still just wish he liked me.”

One of Eddie’s hands moved up to cradle the back of Buck’s head. They were swaying, just a little, Eddie rocking them gently. “I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

He managed to keep from crying, but Buck couldn’t stop his breath from coming out in soft, stuttering gasps. Couldn’t keep his fingers from digging into Eddie’s back. If he thought about it, he could imagine this post too (Evan Buckley cried like a baby on my shoulder AMA), but Eddie would never do that. The warm heat of him against Buck’s chest was like a blanket hiding him from the world. It was the most vulnerable he’d been all day and the most sheltered.

Eddie didn’t let go until Buck pulled back and even then he didn’t go far, “Have you eaten since practice?”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to without throwing up,” Buck said honestly.

“Do you want to order something from-”

The timer on Buck’s laptop shrieked and they both jumped. Eddie recovered quickly, but Buck’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d almost forgotten. How could he have forgotten? Pulling away from Eddie, he turned off the timer and refreshed the post, looking for the link he knew would be there.

“Come on, Buck, really?”

Eddie reached out to slam the laptop closed, but Buck shoved his hand in the way. “I have to, Eddie. He’s doing an AMA. I have to-”

“I’m not going to let you torture yourself reading what a bunch of sick assholes have to say, Buck. No way.”

“I have to.”

“No, you-”

“Yes, I do!” He shouted it, standing up to look Eddie in the eye. “I have to read it. I have to see it now because if- if- if I wait and it gets reposted- I have to know if he has- I have to-”

“Buck,” Eddie said, putting his hands on Buck’s arms, trying to rub calmness back into him even as Buck’s heart-rate accelerated. “What does he have? What could be worse than what he already-”

“Pictures,” Buck yelled. “I have to know if he has pictures.”

A dark, dark look came over Eddie’s face and he stopped rubbing Buck’s arms to squeeze instead. “You think he has pictures?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Buck whimpered. He saw himself as if from above, stretched out long and lewd against Jay’s sheets. He imagined ten thousand other people seeing it. “He took- I caught him taking one. Once. But I don't know if it was the only one. I don’t- I can’t let them get out. If he has them, I have to know. I have to report the post. I have to-”

“No,” Eddie said.

“Yes, Eddie. I have-”

“I hear you. Okay? I hear you, but I’m not letting you do that. I’m not letting you put any more of that garbage in your head.”

“Eddie.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll report every goddamn post.” Lifting one hand, Eddie stroked a thumb softly along Buck’s hairline. “Let me do it. Let me protect you.”

Buck swallowed hard, fear and relief and longing fighting for control of the tears that were building up again. He didn’t want Eddie to see any of that. He didn’t want Jay’s words in Eddie’s head. But Buck really really didn’t want them in his own. He wanted someone to protect him. “Thank you,” he said, falling forward again to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie replied, rubbing his hands firmly up Buck’s back.

Eddie wouldn’t let Buck sit on the couch while he monitored the thread. He fished Buck’s phone out of the couch and made him answer the important messages. From Maddie. From Bobby. From Hen and Chimney. Then he’d told him to order food from the Lebanese place they always ordered from when Eddie came over, asking for extra of the pickled turnips. All the while, Eddie’s fingers slammed onto the keyboard, that sound the only reaction he gave to any of the posts.

It should have been unbearable, letting Eddie comb through the messages. Even without seeing them, Buck knew what they were like. He blocked people every week for the same kind of thing. But Eddie had a defense against them that Buck never had: he didn’t believe they were true. Not even a little bit. He didn’t believe there was a chance that Buck was getting what he deserved for being a show off, for never being a points leader, for being open and soft hearted, for being himself. Eddie believed Buck deserved to be protected and he was ruthless about it.

“No pictures,” he said, a while later, when Jay had finally stopped replying to every comment on the page. “And the rest of it is… well. It’s nothing new.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think it’s done.”

Eddie closed the laptop as if by making that gesture of finality, he could make the words true. Buck, allowed back on his own couch, let himself believe it too. Let himself lean into the safety of Eddie’s arm over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as they caught the Canucks game.

The next morning, Jay’s story was hardly anywhere to be seen. It was replaced. By an essay in The Players’ Tribune. It excoriated Jay. It called out Kirk Davis by name and hundreds of online posters by their bad intentions. It praised Buck’s grace, tenacity, and backhand shot and it demanded respect and compassion and privacy from anyone who called themselves a hockey fan. And it wasn’t anonymous.

#whumptober2021 #no. 5 #betrayal #fic #911 #hanging out at the angst end of the spectrum #911fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #hockey au #allison can’t write a short fic to save her life #minimal edits #messy ending #questionable formatting #230 am #😴

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