#9 year old that didn’t know sketch books existed

[transgnckon]

Thinking abt it & truly phineas & ferb was my first attempt at ever trying to draw anything

& I do wonder where all those drawings went

[pen-observing]

synopsis: It doesn't matter which name he chooses to go by; even after 500 years you will call him Zandik. Even after decades, the two of you will be tied by an invisible string. Years come and go but somehow the two of you continue to argue about the same philosophy. He calls this thing a blessing, you call it a curse.

pairing: dottore x gn! reader word count: 5.3k warnings: time jumps, domesticity hints, mentions of hickeys, dottore is complicated and so is your relationship, ngl reader kind of faruzan coded with the curse, proofread but while skimming.

i. spring

The first time he meets you, he finds you annoying.   Laughing about it comes so easy now even if the memory is around five hundred years old, but, back then, on the very first day that you sat down next to him – he undoubtedly found you annoying.  

While answering to the name Dottore, he would never say he got attached to any particular season in the year. Every true scientist knows that change is the only permanent thing because it helps them shape and mold new creations. Chasing after change meant chasing something eternal even back then when he was simply Zandik.  

Yes, he answered to the name Zandik. His classmates as well as fellow researchers from other darshans knew him. There was a certain genius that always showed itself. It was admiration that followed. Those who wanted to partner up with him or those that simply wanted a glance from him; it was a certain privilege he could leverage. But he also had unspoken rules and one of them you decided to cross.  

Everyone knew that when Zandik was inside the library with more than 9 books in his hands, nobody was meant to approach his table. It doesn’t matter how many people were intended to use it; a certain sense of ownership existed. If you wanted to get on his good side, you would not bother to approach him when he was deep into theoretical research. When someone did, they would get a tense jaw, a lowered gaze and red eyes that glimmered. It doesn’t matter that everyone called him handsome, in those moments he was simply scary to look at.  

He thought that this spring day would prove fruitful in answering his passionate research question. He laid down his materials; he was enjoying sketching and reimagining a new model when out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone with a Haravatat uniform approach his table.  

Surely it was a mistake on their part. He placed his hand on the bottom corner and was about to flip to the next page when his hand stayed hovering above the corner he wanted to keep pristine. You were lucky he didn’t grab the delicate paper in between his fingers because he could have risked denting it when you saw down.  

You sat down? At his table? When he had not 9 but 13 books in front of him and his personal materials? Haravatat students did have a certain repertoire for being particularly annoying he remembered. Others found them either too bubbly or too quiet; they were known for their ‘specific’ behaviour, loud debates and their emotional connection to languages. Zandik could respect the few individuals that actually were valuable there but he could not respect someone breaking one of his rules and distracting him from his own research.  

His jaw was already tense but it fell open when he turned his head in your direction and realized you had no shame. Typical of a Haravatat student.   You sat there on the chair diagonally from him; your legs were crossed, your head was leaning against your hand and you were looking directly at him. The book in front of you couldn’t even be used as a cover up.  

It was closed.  You were staring at him.  You felt no shame when he turned around.   God, were you annoying.  

If he wanted his peace back, he would have to make it by chasing you off. To chase you off, he would have to engage with you.   He placed his hands on the either side of his book, he leaned in slightly to get a better look at you. Animals did this all the time – they showed signs of hostility. Humans, as the ultimate animals, were no different. Perhaps this would be enough to activate you own instincts and chase you off?  

… 

It wasn’t.   You were still looking at him.  Analysing him.   You were after something.  

“What do you want?” Just because you were here, it didn’t mean his voice would change. Your presence should have no effect on him similar to that.   He was hoping you would answer fast but you just continued to look at him. Then, you uncrossed your legs in a frustrated motion and you shook your head. How annoying.  Just what was it that you wanted? 

“I will not ask you what you want again. Leave if you have nothing to say.” 

That seemed to strike a nerve. Because for the first time in a long time, someone glared at him. You crossed your legs again and scowl was on your face in a matter of seconds. How animated; how easy you were to read like a creature. You approached his table. You looked at him; so why were you annoyed now?  

“Listen, I don’t have a lot of time to entertain your foolishness what-” suddenly, your hand stretched out and your index finger was pointing at him. 

“You!” How dare you point at him? His jaw grew tighter and his shoulders tensed. You had not right for this.   “You! What does it mean to be human?!”  

…   Excuse you?   His shoulders fell down and he leaned back with laugher. Not only were you annoying, you were absurd. Who does that to anyone? Who does that to him?  But sure, he supposes he could entertain your little question. His laughter stops and he straightens up.  

“To be human means to chase change.”  

That is what he has been doing all his life. That is what brought him here. Why do you blink up at him like an unimpressed mushroom boar? Is his answer not good enough for you?   You stand up and pick up your own book.  

“So disappointing. I thought a genius everyone mentioned would give an answer not underlined on chapter two. As if chasing change could mean being human. Do you really think change is something you can catch? Absurd.” 

He wasn’t absurd.   You were.   How dare you act like this? How dare you simply turn around with a bigger scowl on your face and walk away from him?  

You didn’t even give him your name and you dared to accuse him of being absurd? Haravatat students will always be so odd. And did you have to do it in a full library so everyone would get a front row ticket to your theatrical show?  

Ah yes, Dottore is sure even when reminiscing.   You really were annoying on the first day he met you.  

ii. summer

“Can you believe he actually implied that she was ugly and then got offended when she dissed him proving she overheard it? And now, suddenly, mister ‘I am rich and your family is poor’ is disappointed because she won’t marry him?!” 

Perhaps never wanting to find out your name would have been more beneficial to him? If he only dubbed you as ‘that-one-library-weirdo', he wouldn’t be listening to this right now. But, Zandik compares it to the months when he hadn’t know you and he realizes doing his experiments in front of this giant machine was more lonely back then.  

The grass and the night sky, a small flutter of the wind that made the corners of his papers turn up; it suddenly feels more full...this place that you share. Somehow, he found out your name and general passions from other students. Then, when you approached him in the library table again without saying anything, he allowed that too; furrowed brow and all.   Then, the two of you had to acknowledge one another in the hallways with a head nod, or a small wave or an occasional ‘hi’ uttered softly.   He isn’t quite sure when and how the two of you started sharing a few notes, sitting next to one another in the same elective the next semester or even going out for food and drinks.  

He once said it was odd and you told him that is the whole problem with his philosophy. Change just happens; you cannot catch it as it unfolds. You said it would always be that way because humans functioned for eons with it. You said he should think of it as a natural law and he would have, had you not decided to suck on the straw of your drink so loudly the hair on his head stood up.  

Still, this was a welcome change to him. He tends not to dwell on it too much; after all, those thoughts were your job.   Yes, he let you sit in the grass next to him while he fixes up this machine.   Yes, he didn’t completely tune you out.   And, yes, he might have told that stuck-up blonde man in his darshan that you were in fact not single. It isn’t like lying and manipulation were out of his character; Zandik swore he would get what he wants and reject anything he deems unworthy. That blonde man whose name he didn’t even bother to remember was unworthy of you. Simple as that. Nothing more.  

For the first time since he was a simple child, Zandik felt like he had made a genuine friend. Having to share a table with the two of you both annoying him would have been torture.  

The new mechanical part needs 5 screws. One. Two. Three. 

“Zandik, are you listening to me?” 

Four. 

“Yes, yes – I don’t know why you called that man a ‘standard’ of romantic literature if he acts like that.” 

The fifth one. The last one is always the worst.  

“I don’t have time to explain that again. I have something more important to tell you.”   “Mhm.” 

If he could just get it to fit right and make this work, he would be at the end of his experiment. Just a few more twists and- 

“I am leaving Sumeru tomorrow morning.” 

He halts. The screwdriver stands still not having finished the mission assigned to it. Something inside the machine cracks and for a second Zandik wonders if that noise came from inside of his own body. Shouldn’t he be mad? Upset? This is the first time you’re telling him about it. Wait, if so, it must be a silly trip that is meaningless and so insignificant you forgot to mention it.  

“Oh, are Haravatat students setting up camp somewhere again? Your darshan really likes to have bonding experiences.”  

Zandik continues to twist the screw; the machine failed but he will see this through to the end. Looking up at you when he already knows the answer from the silence that settles between the two of you would show his weakness. Zandik has no weaknesses anyone knows of. Zandik has a prideful disposition he will keep up regardless of what happens.  

“It is just me...remember how I said this romantic book is fascinating? I didn’t mean the romance of it; I meant the ruins that are described only briefly. They’re too detailed to not exist somewhere in Natlan! I am sure of it! I got permission to make them my thesis. Isn’t that great?”  

You never talked to him about your thesis plans. He was forced to listen to 5 hours of why the female lead’s arrogance was important in the novel but he wasn’t privy to something more intimate of your plans.  

He didn’t tell you much about his childhood and judgments of his villagers or classmates. He didn’t reveal anything significant about himself but...that library table was his intimate space which he allowed you to occupy. Nobody else.   And this place? Do you know how meaningful it is to him? To his dreams and aspirations as a researcher? Do you know how many nights he spent on the grass you are sitting on right now just trying to get his research to work? And, if it didn’t, the hours he spent hoping and cursing at the parts?  

Zandik suddenly felt cold towards you. He let you inside these intimate spaces and what did he let in return? Less loneliness? The two of you clearly didn’t connect as human beings. What does he know about you? He knows the way you write in the margins and the shapes you’d draw on his papers, he knows the way you talk when passionate – how he has to take one step to the left when you start debating a syntax issue unless he wants your outstretched hand to hit his cheek – he knows the annoying sound you make when drinking from straws; fuck, he even knows the patterns to your walks.  

Was this what you truly meant when you said humans cannot catch change? The fact that just now he realized how much he knows about you yet not enough to have predicted this?   The worst by far, is that he cannot find it in himself to yell at you for how he feels. He can’t yell at you for not knowing this... He knew that everyone travels for their thesis, so, he should say he expected it.  

You don’t need to know how he thought the two of you would travel to the same place but with different research objectives. Still, what else can he do besides let you go?  

He looks at you. Finally. But you wish that he hadn’t. This is an expression you’ve never seen on him before; an expression that makes leaving such a hard task even when you rely on not saying goodbye.  

Zandik sometimes reminded you of stoics; the way he would take every failure and success as equal opportunity without getting derailed. But, only now do you see his red eyes glow; the way they’re looking at you while hardly blinking – like he is trying to remember as much of you as possible to carry with him.  

You never could have guessed how right he was; how even that millisecond meant remembrance that haunts.  

The two of you don’t say goodbye that night. You wish each other luck and promise to compete on who can finish their thesis faster.  

Neither of you do.  

Zandik gets expelled for how obsessive he becomes.   And you get lost to time. Lost to Natlan.  

The last news Zandik hears about you does not come from any of your letters – they were only three after all. He hears from the Matra that you rushed inside a ruin and were lost forever. 

The word forever always had a special ring to him; that was the first time he hated it. If you were lost forever, he would simply be better than you. He would live forever and make sure to do everything he wanted. Ample time leads to ample rewards.  

Zandik, when he changes his name, abandons everything that grounded it. He throws away your letters and he throws away you. Only he knows what was harder to discard.  

iii. autumn

Dottore sometimes has to stand inside of his own lab to admire his work. The vastness of it and all the success and trust he has as well as the fact his clones are more advanced than ever; it all proves just how right he was. And just how wrong they were. 

Turning down a genius and trying to stop his advancement? Foolish.   Those people in the village that ostracised him? Insignificant. As well as their offspring that he never saw.   Only a few people had what it takes to contribute true research to this world. And they were lost or boxed in or stopped by something so trivial as the academia or governments.  

He stands above it all. As the ultimate showcase of unrivalled genius and absolute freedom. Nobody asks him what it means to be human anymore. They don’t consider him such; and every single day he slips down the path of being something that cannot answer that.  

His test subjects often shout about humanity and how he has none. He wonders if they realize how it means nothing. Seeing humans struggle and break does light up something in him. And he decided to chase that long ago.  

“Lord Harbinger.”  

He stays silent. Lord Harbinger is a title he refuses to answer to. Why should he turn his neck to the same words his inadequate colleagues do? If the person calling him doesn’t immediately correct himself, they know what happens next.  

“I mean, Doctor!” Good. Humans knew how to adopt quickly after all. He finally tilts up his neck towards the man. He takes off the mask covering his face just so that his subordinate could see the glare.  

“What do you want?”  “Something very odd is happening in quarter 7, section 31!”  “Odd? I didn’t even experiment in there recently and nothing important was placed there from my machinery.”   “We have no idea what is happening! There is a glow but no smoke or fire or anything else. We only thought it would be right to notify you.”  “A glow you say? Ah, perhaps it is a jinn lamp where a weak soul of older days slumbers. We did place the gifts of those nobles from all over Teyvat there. I told Pierro I don’t need them but he insisted I should keep them.”  

He twiddles with his pen.  

“That section is insignificant to me. I hold no care about it at all.” He takes a deep breath. If only it was section 37 instead. There, he was working on an experiment involving lay lines and ghostly souls. 

“Either way Doctor, the light just keeps on growing and we are afraid it will expand to other sections. What if one of the nobles turned against us? What if-”   “Shut your mouth, I will go. No matter how many times I look for capable people, they never meet my expectations.”  

Dottore gets up from his chair but with no zest. He saw bottles like those of jinn all the time years ago. The only thing less exciting about seeing one again are the white hallways he has to walk through to get to the room. The underling follows behind him, scurrying like a bug. Cosmically insignificant. To think that this bug’s energy will one day get the same treatment as those ghostly souls that actually matter.  

He opens the door and sees a bright blue light. There is no imminent danger. Perhaps the being inside this lamp recognized another presence inside the room and they are reacting to it? He shudders at the thought of having to deal with another ex-lovers pair that vowed revenge on one another.  

Dottore walks over to the source of the light. He cannot see the centre of it. It gives off a warmth however. And he wanted to roll his eyes at the way his subordinate shakes. But, his curious nature could never lay dormant for a long time.  

He realizes that he feels warmth from it, but his insignificant bug feels chills. Whatever this is, it could come in handy for his experiments that require temperature changes.  

Dottore reaches to grab it.  

“We tried that before Sir! Nothing changed!” 

Sir again. Not Doctor. The same second mistake cannot be forgiven.   Dottore’s hand grabs at the light core. He expects the feel and the weight of a marble.  

But it completely disappears.   Dottore’s face drops as does his excitement. The poor underling has no idea he will suffer for both his own actions and the fluctuations of Dottore’s moods.   The room is pitch black again. There is no sound coming from anywhere. The other subordinates ran off because they thought the light was dangerous. Dottore clicks his tongue in realizing he will have to replace them all again.  

Then, the bug behind him shrieks. He can hear him tumble onto the ground and run off as soon as he gets up. What a fool. He is yelling at the top of his lungs. Perhaps pulling out his tongue should teach him to be quiet.  

When Dottore turns around, he feels warmth engulf his body. He digs his heels into the floor to stop himself from moving. He hears a sound he hadn’t heard in years.  

“Zandik? I-Is that you?”  

He can hear your voice. He can hear you call out that acursed name. Why are you here? Why are you on the floor, hunched over and kneeling?  

“Zandik?” 

Stop saying that! Stop it! He can feel his right hand shake; he can feel his heart beat. Worst of all, he can hear the things the other clones are saying about this memory. It is becoming a part of the collective. He can hear the collective hope and heartbreak.  

“That is you. Isn’t it?”  

Your voice is so weak.  

“I haven’t answered to that name for 200 years now.”  

He cannot find it in himself to say anything else. The other clones are creating a ricocheting cacophony inside his brain. He should have thrown out more of his humanity. Didn’t he burn those letters? Why is he suddenly remembering lines from them? Why is one of his clones crying?  

“200 years..?” he can hear the bewilderment in your voice. When he looks down at you, he can see the tears in your eyes. You are afraid; they no longer hold any light.  

He kneels down and touches your shoulder to calm your shaking body. Only then does he get hit by the ugly revelation that you are laughing but there is no sound. You look like you are breaking in every sense of the word; he never managed to drive his test subjects to these limits where they would lose everything at once.  

He clicks his tongue. He shakes your shoulders with a grip that makes you yelp. Only then do you actually begin to cry. He takes it. He takes this breakdown over the utter lack of humanity you displayed before.  

“Zandik I-I"  “Dottore. My name is Dottore now.”  

He says it even if he is sure you can’t actually hear him. His voice can’t reach out to you even if he is kneeling down next to you, embracing you as a surprise to himself. You’re crying into his shoulder, slobbering and hiccupping.  

You ask him what it means to be human again.   He cannot answer you. He became something else.   You say that you aren’t sure about it anymore. That hurts more than his own lack of an answer. You should have come back in a different way. You should have come back pointing a finger at him, yelling to him about his choices. Maybe even yelling at him for not looking for you. Not like this. Never like this.  

Only when you faint in his arms does he notice the cuts and bruises on your body. For the first time since he changed his name – Dottore decides to treat someone like a real doctor. His subordinates have to live with that – seeing the ruthless harbinger who terrorizes them show some care. Command it even.  

It isn’t natural. It shouldn’t even exist. Seeing humanity from a man like that makes them question everything. He goes into your room 5 times a day, doesn’t let anyone else do anything besides keep guard. And then, in between those visits, he tortures children and experiments on them with poison and toxic remains. He gets blood all over his coat and then puts on a new one when knocking on your door.  

They can’t fathom it. It simply shouldn’t exist. And they start avoiding that door; because pretending like it doesn’t exist and pretending like their master is only ruthless makes it easier to live. 

And when you do wake up – it is impossible to ignore how their master’s humanity makes itself known. 

iv. winter

“You know I quite like this little habit of ours.” Dottore’s voice reminds you how wrong your predictions were. Since he came back earlier from Sumeru than you bet on, you now owe a large sum of mora to a certain banker.  

“I was not aware that it was a habit. You just come here whenever you please.”   “There is something to come to. Be a dear and fetch another tea cup for me, would you?” Typical him. Only he would be able to say such a line; implying that whatever this was between the two of you reminded him of a home.   But, even if you click your tongue, you get another tea cup and pour him some. At least you can remember your own humanity when your cold hands touch it and suddenly warmth seeps through. As a child, you loved to do it. You would put your hands in cold rain on purpose just to feel this simple warmth. You have a habit of taking off your gloves when drinking tea, he keeps his on. He has a habit of sitting next to you in the same way he did all those years ago.  

“Now, let me engage in ‘pure bragging’ as your lovely lips like to put it. Are you ready to hear of Sumeru again and just everything that I accomplished?”  

Something tells you not to give him that satisfaction. So you put the cup down and point a finger at him.  

“You’re more human now, Zandik.”  “How many times must I tell you not to use that name?”  “Until you figure out a way to go back into the past and change the name on your birth certificate to Dottore, and then glare at me in the library like you did when we met – I will continue to use it. That is your true name after all. Erase all records if you will, but I will remember it.”  

He doesn’t think about bragging anymore.  

“That library just looks more grand now, the people calling themselves researchers are anything but that.”  

You can feel when he dangles a hook in front of you. Taking it would give him far too much satisfaction.  

“He cried, you know.”  

He grips the handle.  

“I felt it, no need to mention it.”  “The youngest one, the one I was most fond of, cried when you killed all of them.”  “And some swore revenge. Are you trying to get me to focus on the feelings? You probably are, you’ve been annoying since the first day I met you.”  “And you still haven’t realized you cannot chase change. Tell me, were you surprised when she asked you that? Were you hesitant? Aren’t your clones proof of everything you ever wanted?”  “It is a shame you hadn’t gone with me.” He deflects it. “The archon would certainly like you. She too, kept asking about humanity and the lines I crossed.”  

Your tea has gone cold by now. Zandik always had a way of distracting you for longer than you’d like. 

“And were your answers to her something I would approve of?”  “You said I seemed more human now, is that not enough for you?”  “I am glad to see only one version of you now. I will take that as a start.”   “Unbelievable, by a stroke of luck which you call misfortune, you were granted even more time than me but you hate it.”  “We always differed in our definitions. I wasn’t blessed with this, I was cursed. I entered those runes to learn more of humanity but I was punished by my eagerness to lose my own.” 

He has to roll his eyes. 

“Just because you were blessed with so much time and can make a legacy like myself, it doesn’t mean you are no longer human. Would you like me to take you to see all those monsters? Perhaps some of my own research experiments?”   “You forget I am free to leave this place whenever I wish. And, neither of us have legacy.”  “Speak for yourself. You left and came back all those years ago because you said you hated me. Yet, here we are, drinking tea like always.”  “I came back because I was jealous of true humans.”  “And I pity you for being jealous of inferior creatures.”  “And I pity you for thinking you will ever leave a legacy that is fond of remembering.” 

“Careful there, your hateful gaze might make me forget you love me.”  “I don’t love you.” 

Dottore leans back in his chair and he laughs.  

“But you do. That is what proves your humanity. Always paradoxical and complex, disagreeing with my actions but realizing I am perhaps the only human that relates to you. We call the same thing by different names; but it won’t change either way.”  “I just don’t know why I came back to you from that forsaken ruin.”  “Should we call it fate?”  “You gave it an abstract name? Does it still bother you that you never found a way inside?”  

He places his hand over your own on the table. He looks at you, now knowing that the two of you were right not to exchange goodbyes that day. And you relax. There is always a memory that triggers when he is next to you, there is always that realization that he knows you as much as you know him. You share time now but you shared it all those decades ago. There is something to come back to; there is someone that remembers, calls out your name and responds to the one that leaves your mouth.  

Some invisible and intricate connection always existed between you. And, you could leave, you could stand up at this very moment and travel to wherever you wish. But, you would lose that. You would lose the feeling that someone knows you and you’ve always believed that to be know is to be loved.   People learn old languages because the love those that came before. Humans have a habit of desperately clutching onto their humanity even if it is smaller than a grain of sand. And, if you must, to keep yourself grounded and to stand there until he realizes his own mistakes and humanity – you will hold onto him. It has to be worth it in the end. There has to be a reason you share his existence and were teleported back in front of him on your knees.  

You just hope it means something grander that will constitute your own legacy. 

v. evermore

That night, he traces the hickeys he left on your neck. It is one of the few times he takes off his gloves so that his human skin meets your own.  

“Ask me again.”  “I will not ask you for another round.”  “No,” he clicks his tongue, “ask me that question.”  “Are you aware that you are more obsessed with humanity than me, oh doctor? Laughable.”  “Just ask.”  “Fine. What makes you human?” 

He moves his hand down to your waist and pulls you closer to him. How could he ever ask you to use the name Dottore when his eyes have been the same all these years whenever he looks at you? You don’t get a chance to marvel at them for too long, he buries his face in your neck.  

“You. Having you here keeps me human. Sometimes I think we were destined to be together.”  

Nobody else knows this side of him. And in your opinion, selfish as it may be, they don’t deserve to know. 

“Oh, is the genius doctor now speaking about fate and destiny? What grand words you use. We weren’t destined to be together, we were doomed to be together.”  

There you go. Ruining a romantic moment by reminding him how differently the two of you look at this situation you’re in.   He groans. Perhaps you will come around one day, even if it has been 300 years since your return. What matters is that you returned to him by fate and by your own choice after travelling.  

“Hey! Zandik, bite my neck one more time I will force you to sleep on the couch.”  “If we were indeed doomed to be together, we might as well make the most of it and – are you trying to bite me back?”  “Your teeth were always annoyingly sharp!”  “And the noises you made 500 years ago when drinking are still annoying to this day.”  “That’s it. Go sleep on the couch, I don’t want to look at you right now.” 

a/n: legit this is so self indulgent cus it is how I imagine my relationship with this red flag would be. it isn't really toxic it is just philosophies not matching up. dottore is too fond of humanity without realizing it and i will make him suffer for it. reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. hope dottore anon likes it.

[helliontherapscallion]

A Surrealistic Life (Adrenaline Junkie Part 17)

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

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, derealization, depression, grief, blood, mentions of death, nightmares, panic attacks

Word count: 3,385

                                          ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You cried in Philza’s arms for hours on end until you couldn’t cry anymore. Your head was left pounding and your throat scratchy from the loud crying, but you didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore, without Arthur you were nothing. The past two and a half years just- just didn’t exist. Your mind was still reeling, the words ‘will you always be with me?’ echoing through your mind constantly filling you with guilt. 

With one last shuddering inhale, you separated yourself from Philza and wiped at the tears that had long since dried on your face. His eyes, vigilant as ever, scanned your form looking for any sign of distress. In his eyes, you saw pity and grief. This angered you, you didn’t need his pity; you were long past the point of pitiful glances. Well, you were, he wasn’t. 

You purse your lips as you watch his eyes flick between your wing and where your other wing was supposed to be. Sorrow flashes in his eyes before he looks back at you with a small, painfully fake smile. With one hand, he gently pushes your shoulder down back onto the bed and stands up. 

“I’ll be back, you get some rest.” 

With the slightest hint of a nod, you watched as he lingered in the doorway before hesitantly walking out of your room. After he left your room, you locked the door behind him. That door remained locked for weeks on end, every knock or attempt at conversation was never answered by you. Their words were nothing but background noise in the back of your mind. 

Instead of responding, you would lay in bed staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes thinking about nothing but everything you’ve lost. Only occasionally you would leave your room to attend to your most basic needs when you were sure that everybody was asleep or out of the house. 

The days meshed together as your thoughts consume you in a whirlwind of unorganized messes. Several times, you’ve worked yourself into panic attacks and paranoia filled spiraling because you didn’t know what was real anymore. 

Being left alone with your thoughts was something that you always avoided by constantly tinkering with contraptions, your thoughts wandered off to places that greatly disturbed you. But now, you let those thoughts wash over you without a care. Your dreams reflected this; they were plagued with images of Arthur looking up at you with large puppy dog eyes and a large smile before he would be sucked into darkness screaming for you to help him, to do anything, but you were always glued in place leaving you to watch helplessly as he left you over and over again. 

Another common one you would have is Arthur getting lost in a bellowing snowstorm in the dead of night. You would be wandering through thick snow calling his name until you would come across a small, pale hand peeking out of an abnormal lump of snow; dread would always fill you during those dreams, it was a parent’s worst nightmare to lose their child.

Other dreams, though very rare, would be pleasant; whether they were about you and Arthur whistling a small tune as you both invented something or a small picnic on the cliff laughing freely into the air, you would always wake up in the mornings prepared to greet him and cook breakfast with him. It wasn’t until you moved your right arm and found that it had limited mobility that you realized that everything was a dream.

You hated those dreams, they always gave you a false sense of hope that everything was okay. Nothing is okay, absolutely nothing. 

You refused to believe that… whatever was going on didn’t happen; Philza had said that the last few years had been fake, something that your mind had made up as some form of coping mechanism, but who’s to say that this isn’t a hallucination as well? Both your experiences felt completely different from each other, this reality could be the hallucination for all you knew. 

The only thing on your mind was how you needed to get back to Arthur in any possible way you could. If Arthur didn’t exist in this reality, you didn’t want to be in it. You need him and he needs you, you didn’t want to imagine a reality without him. If you got yourself into this by dying, perhaps that was your ticket back to him. Perhaps there was a way to reverse this. 

You were going to get your son back, and you were going to die trying. 

Until then, you just have to wait out your family. They’d just stop you in the end and you couldn’t have that. You’d have to put on an act that you were perfectly fine and that would entail inventing everything over again, but you were fine with that; if you made it once, you can make it again. 

With a newfound sense of purpose, you searched your closet for your old cloak but then you remembered you got your cloak weeks after your first death. Groaning to yourself, you settled for your old bomber jacket. The slits in the back of it wouldn’t cover your nub, so you awkwardly tucked it underneath the fabric of the cloth. It shot pain down your spine, but you shook it off; the pain was something you could handle, you’ve had worse. 

Without another thought, you quietly left your room with only one destination in mind. 

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

You softly padded down the basement stairs towards your workshop. When you arrived at the bottom of the stairs, you paused and looked around. The walls that were once covered with sloppy sketches and words written in two different handwritings, both equally as messy and rushed, were barren for the most part; you forgot that the walls were painted an off white color. Your filing cabinets were gone, replaced with cardboard boxes containing old clothes and toys with thick layers of dust sitting peacefully on top of them. The crafting table sat in the corner of the room wasn’t worn, in fact it looked brand new, not a scratch could be seen on the surface. 

Everything was wrong. 

You numbly walked over to your desk and picked up the paper that laid on it, holding it up to the light. It was the first draft to your TNT launcher. The sight of the crude, minimal sketches made you cringe, it was far too messy; you had no idea how you could make out what your sloppy handwriting pointed to or what materials were supposed to go where. 

You dropped the paper and let it flutter to the floor without a care. Your eyes flickered over the desk and eyed the notebook sitting on top of a stack of spare papers. A spark of hope ignited inside of you, this was the notebook Arthur so often doodled in with different ideas of what could be invented. 

You snatched it and flipped the front cover over with haste. A wide smile stretched your lips when you caught sight of the small handwriting that littered the page. It was yours, but you had given it to Arthur so that he could learn and copy from your early years. It was perfect for a blueprint template, neat and organized. 

However as you flipped through the book, your smile dropped and the little hope that flared in your chest was snuffed out. You stared at the blank page as frustration built up inside of you. Before you knew it, you threw the notebook at the opposite wall as hard as you could. You were left standing in the middle of the cold basement with your chest heaving and your teeth gritted. 

Everything was so wrong. So, so wrong. 

You heard footsteps thunder down the stairs before they came to a stop behind you. Hesitant footsteps made their way over to you, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. 

“(Y/n)? Is everything-”

“Nothing is okay, Tommy,” you gritted out, “absolutely nothing about this is okay.” 

He said nothing as he walked around you and put his hand on your clenched fist, his fingers curling around yours and opening your hand. Your palm stung slightly as you glanced down at it. Four small, crescent shaped cuts were imprinted on your skin slowly starting to glisten with blood. 

Huffing, you ripped your hand out of his grasp and glanced at his face. You caught yourself doing a double take as you saw just how innocent he looked. No sign of hidden pain in his shining blue eyes, no scars littering his skin, and the bags that once made him look years older was nonexistent. He was your annoying, gremlin of a little brother again. He was Tommy again. 

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted slightly, “why are you looking at me like that?” 

“No reason,” you breathed out before you shook your head trying to rid your mind of your frustrations, “no reason at all…”

He awkwardly coughed and nodded slightly, “right…”  

You cleared your throat and glanced off to the side at the book laying on the floor. Tommy’s eyes followed where you were looking and went to pick it up. You felt a twinge in your heart as he started to flip through it much like you did earlier. He looked up at you with furrowed brows, “why’d you throw this? What’d the book do to you?” He jokingly asked you. 

“It didn’t do anything and that’s the problem,” you mumbled out before you snatched the book out of his hands and tossed it into the trash can. 

“Why are you acting so weird? I know you just died and all, but you never let that notebook out of your sight and now you’re just tossing it into the bin!” Tommy fished it out of the trash can and haphazardly placed it back onto your desk on top of the stack of unused paper. You could feel your eye twitch at it’s placement before you threw it away again. 

“Leave it there, I don’t want it. I won’t need it anymore anyways,” you murmured under your breath. 

“Why wouldn’t you need it- wait, don’t tell me you’re quitting working with redstone. Cuz I’ll have you know that you’re going to be the best goddamned inventor this gods forsaken world has ever known and-”

“I’m not going to quit,” you interrupted him, “trust me, I’ll need whatever I can make. I just… don’t need it anymore, I already know exactly what I need to make.” I can’t stand the sight of Arthur’s notebook so empty and blank your mind supplied yourself. 

He tilted his head slightly, “even without the bluepri-”

“Even without the blueprints,” you curtly nodded and automatically turned to look at the bulletin board hanging above your desk only to sigh when you once again saw that it was barren. “I made these things thousands of times before, I know what I’m doing,” your gaze zeroed in on the half finished blueprint for your automatic crossbow, “I’ll just make them again.” 

Tommy once again looked at you with furrowed brows and inquisitive eyes, you could just see the curiosity and confusion swimming around in his baby blue orbs, “what do you mean, you literally only have one prototype of everything on here.” 

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, so just drop it.” You hadn’t meant to snap at him like that, but the frustration was just too overwhelming to ignore. Just as you could see him start to get dejected from the corner of your eye, you made quick work of changing the subject.

“You know, I could hear what you said when I wasn’t awake. I really appreciated the music, it was a nice change of pace.”

He tensed before his eyes were drawn to the empty space over your shoulder. His breath hitched slightly as a sorrowful look appeared in his eyes. Looking back at you, he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you into a tight hug. You didn’t struggle against him despite your frustrations, you knew he needed you right now. You could still remember how broken he was when you were unconscious. The way his lip wobbled slightly before he hugged you reminded you of Arthur. 

You gently hugged him back and wrapped your wing around him. He gripped you tighter, his breath shuddering as wetness started to hit your head. You said nothing as you started to hum and run your fingers along his back tracing out patterns without a particular one in mind. 

Eventually, he pulled away from you and chuckled sardonically, wiping his tears away with a fist, “you’re the one who died and I’m the one being comforted. Gods, it’s pathetic.” 

“It’s okay to feel emotions, Tommy. You should never bottle them up, it sounded like you needed a good hug anyways. I’m happy to give you that,” you softly told him.  

He said nothing as he crossed his arms and shifted on his feet, avoiding your gaze. For a moment, your tall brother was replaced by a short, red haired boy wearing that same expression. You purse your lips in thought, your previous frustrations completely gone and replaced with an urge to comfort him or at least distract him. Though a deep sadness dragged your body down at the thought of Arthur, Tommy just reminded you too much of him. It was eerily uncanny in your opinion.

Ideas swarmed your head as you thought back to how you comforted Arthur when he fell down. Besides talking to him, you would always teach him something; knowledge to Arthur is- was like a sponge absorbing water. It gave him a distraction to whatever got him down, maybe that would work for Tommy as well. 

Wordlessly, you walked over to your desk and gestured for him to follow you. You plopped him into your office chair and pulled one of the cardboard boxes up to the desk. In the process, you grabbed your gloves, goggles, and everything you would need to set up a simple timed piston. The smallest spark of happiness flashed inside you as you saw that your resources were fully stocked. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Well, Tommy, I’m going to show you how to set up one of my favorite redstone mechanisms. Put these on,” you handed him the gloves and goggles and watched as he put them on. The goggles were a bit small on him, but besides that, everything fit him. 

“Now, you’re going to want to…”

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

Hours passed as you both worked together on the contraption. Slowly, you could see Tommy loosening up and making more jokes, successfully distracted. However, you didn’t expect yourself to follow suit. Laughter came easier to you whenever Tommy would joke around, your troubles long forgotten. 

It took a little longer than you were used to, but eventually Tommy started to follow along with the precision you’d expect from a beginner. Slowly but surely, with many mistakes along the way, there was a working piston system sitting on the desk. 

Tommy triumphantly laughed into the air as he watched the pistons work in tandem with one another. You laughed alongside him and ruffled his hair, “nice job, Artie! I knew you could do it!” 

Tommy completely stopped and looked at you in confusion, “‘Artie’? Who’s that?” 

You completely froze in place, you hadn’t meant to call him Artie. He was Tommy, he was your blond little brother, not your ginger son. Tommy was his own person, he was Tommy, not Arthur. You mentally scolded yourself for constantly mixing the two up. 

“Artie is- well, he’s just… Arthur is my old friend,” you stammered out after tripping over your words clumsily. Tommy couldn’t find out about Arthur, nobody could. That’d just ruin your plan. 

He snorted, “sure, ‘old friend’. You know, if Dad finds out that you’re dating someone he’d ground you for life.” 

“I’d never date anybody, you know that,” you scolded him with your nose wrinkled in disgust. “He’s just an old friend and you remind me of him.”

“Well, old friend or not, he sounds amazing if I remind you of him!”

You smiled sadly as your mind flashed to images of Arthur at various points in his life, “he really was, you would’ve loved him, Tommy. He might’ve been the best person I’ve ever met.” 

“Why don’t you tell me about him? I can preen your wings-” Tommy abruptly stopped himself and looked like he’d just accidentally kicked a puppy, looking at you with wide eyes and red tinted cheeks. 

Just as he started opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, you chuckled at his expression, “you’re fine, Tommy. It’s just going to take some time for you to get used to this,” you shifted your wing and cringed at the uncomfortable feeling. You haven’t preened your wings since before you left for the cave nearly two months ago, and your wing was a mess of bent and loose feathers. “I’d… actually like a good preening, are you sure you know how to do it?” 

“Please,” he scoffed before pushing you to sit down in your desk chair, “I’ve seen you and Dad do it to each other thousands of times, I think I know what I’m doing.” 

“That isn’t how that- you know what? Just go ahead. Make sure you get any loose feathers and straighten them out,” you stretched your wing out and hoped for the best. Tommy surprisingly did a decent job of straightening out feathers, he just had to work on distinguishing loose feathers from intact feathers (you were now missing a couple of smaller feathers). 

The entire time, you were telling him how amazing your boy was. Sure, you might’ve overexaggerated just a little bit, but Arthur was certainly someone that deserved the praise. That kid was something else, truly a prodigy at both redstone and compassion. Leaving out the fact that Arthur was your adopted son and that he was ten years old was a little hard, but you managed to avoid that. 

You could tell that Tommy knew something was different about you, but you guessed that he just assumed the changes were because of your death and not because you were technically two and a half years older than you physically are. 

When he was done, you looked at your wing and you were pleasantly surprised at how well he did; sure there were a few loose feathers and they were partially crooked, but you could tell that Tommy did his best with them. 

“Thanks, Toms,” you smiled at him after you tucked your wing back in, “I really appreciate you doing that, it was starting to bother me.”

“It’s no problem,” he puffed out his chest in pride, “I told you I knew what I was doing.” 

“And I’m sorry for ever doubting you. Who knows, maybe Dad’ll let you do his wings next.” 

“Oh gods no,” Tommy shuddered slightly, “his are massive and he has two of them! If doing yours took me an hour and a half, I’d hate to see how long it’d take me to do his.” 

You cringed, remembering the last time you preened his wings. Though you were experienced, it had taken you two full hours for each wing. “Yeah, his wings are huge. Gods, I hope my wing doesn’t get to be that size.” Though they grew to be nowhere near Philza’s wingspan when you were in that reality, you weren’t sure if yours was going to be larger or smaller than what they were. 

Just as Tommy was about to open his mouth to respond to you, Wilbur’s voice echoed down the stairwell, “Tommy, dinnertime!” 

“Well c’mon then, let’s go. I’ll race you there,” was all Tommy said to you before he bolted up the stairs with a booming laugh, skipping every third step. You could feel your heart stop when he almost tripped on one of the stairs because he skipped too many. Rushing after him, you shouted at him, “Tommy, walk! You’re going to break your neck if you keep running up and down the stairs!”

                                         ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Taglists (if your name is italicized, it means I couldn’t tag you. Comment with the taglist you want to be tagged in if you want to be tagged :D):

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Adrenaline Junkie:

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[linkspooky]

This is kinda random, but what is your top 10 favorite otps?

Sure.

#1 of All Time SPUFFY

Spuffy, it wrote the book on both beauty and the beast archetypes, and enemies to lovers. For me the most important thing in a ship is the character development it brings about. Spike's redemption doesn't work without Buffy, because it's meeting the one person who expects better than him and won't put up with his selfish crap, that forces his character arc. Buffy's development is also nothing without Spike, it's meeting Spike that makes Buffy confront her dark side, and realize that being a good person isn't something you are, but something you work towards for the sake of your loved ones. The ideal ship should inspire this permanent character development and chane (Unless it ends tragically), they should be an inseperable part of each other's character arcs.

#2 Kumagawa / Ajimu

This is what I was talking about when I said "unless it ends tragically". Sometimes you ship two people who should never end up together, because they probably won't accept their differences. However, even in a failed relationship, two people can be important to each other. There's not really a hapyp ending for Ajimu and Kumagawa, despite their similiarities when they're together they just seem to make each other worse. In Medaka Box they are the anti-Zenkichi and Medaka. However, for Ajimu Kumagawa represents her only human connection, and for Kumagawa Ajimu represents the first person to be "good" to him even though their relationship soured at one point. Therefore I find the ship interesting because despite the fact that they are permanently separated they are still an incredibly important part of each other's identities and who they are now.

# 3 Matsuda / Junko

Basically for the same reason as what I said above. There is no universe where Junko and Matsuda end up in a happy relationship, as long as Junko is still Junko. However, Matsuda and DanganRonpa Zero as a whole add so much to Junko as a character. As long as Matsuda exists, Junko's more than just a black hole that only cares about despair, and I think together the side materials like IF and Zero show that Junko actually is capable of caring for people outside of her natural tendency to want to throw everything into despair, however, humanizing Junko in this manner doesn't actually make her a better person. She can have feelings like romantic, and familial love, and she still chooses to destroy those things and the people in her life. It just adds so much to Junko as a character, which is what I like ships as, an extension of characterization through character interaction.

#5 UIHAI

I love Ui and Hairu because it's like a broken fairy tale. It was a love that could have saved Hairu, but it didn't, because for Ui he always realized his feelings too late to save anyone. Hairu was obsessively chasing after Arima for the smallest amount of approval, when Ui was right there, and already in love with her. They seem like the perfect couple that could never get together, because Hairu is too fixated on Arima, and Ui is too fixated on his job. They are perfectly suited to giving each other what they wanted, and even in lots of side materials and sketches they seem like a pair, or Ui's feelings for Hairu come across as pretty clear but it never came to be in canon.

#6 ZACK / AERITH

Once again for the same reasons as above, it seems like a fairy tale romance of a knight, and a girl he wants to protect, but it fails completely to live up to that story. Zack and Aerith is a tragic story of first love for both of them, and it's also really formative for who Aerith is now as a character. Zack tried to be there for her, and he tried to be a hero to Aerith, only to very consistently not be there for her, and then disappear from her life all together. Much later on, Aerith is incredibly isilated, unable to fall in love with the real cloud without projecting Zack onto him. It's a relationship where in a better world they could have been there for each other, but also the failure of the relationship develops them as much as characters as them getting together might have. Zack and Aerith are one of those relationships that seems ideal on the surface but they are very different people with different wants, Zack wants to be a hero, Aerith just wants to be a person first.

#7 LINK / MIDNA

The best zelda ship period. Once again the most important part of a ship interaction is the change that both characters inspire in each other. Midna begins not caring about Link at all, never referring to him by name, only seeing him as an object, an old legend, a hero to be used instead of a person. Midna's a manipulative freak, and Link breaks through to her because he actually isn't interested in being the hero of legend, he just wants to save the people closest to him at the village because he feels indebted to them, and Midna inevitably becomes one of those people. Link and Midna's partneship makes the game, because it's Midna who pushes him and makes him into a hero, but it's Link through his unfledging acceptance of her who inspires her to be a person once more, and not just the twilight priness.

#8 Morrigan / Warden from DRAGON AGE ORIGINS

This and Spuffy are like the only two on this list who actually end up together, so let me just have this. Once again my favorite aspect of a ship is the transformation the relationship brings baout in a character. The warden is a non-character, but for Morrigan herself, her relationship with the warden is what allows her to escape an abusive household, and beyond that decide not to repeat the cycle of abuse with her new family. What made this ship an all time fave was in witch hunt when the Warden gets to ask her what she wants, and she's just completely confused. Even with her mother dead, Morrigan is still a tool of her mother's ambitions, it's still all about her mother wants. It's her love with the warden, either through friendship or romance that awakens Morrigan to the fact she's allowed to exist as a person with wants and needs outside of what her mother wants her to be.

#9 Kaine / Nier

It's the Most Humanizing Ship Ever Between Two Mass Murderers. As a story, I think Nier is about finding the life, and love, in a story that is ultimately, fatally doomed. Nier only worse and worse as the game goes on but that doesn't mean there was never any love in his life. For every bad thing Nier does, he was not bad to every single person, specifically Kaine, it was Nier's love and belief in her that allows the wounds in her heart to start to heal. As Nier and Nier gets worse, Kaine's own shadow self says, that her feelings in her heart are no longer hatred, or even revenge, there's just a pure white light of love left. In a game where everything only rots, Kaine has healed to the point where she can love again when she never thought it was possible. It's why I like ending D the best, because it's Nier knowing he can never escape his own sins, but he can use his last action to heal Kaine fully all the way and allow her to live on a few more years.

#10 SATOSUGU

Once again, there's no universe where they end up together, and yet still on opposite sides of a conflict they remain each other's closest friends. The most important thing about a ship is the character development it leads to and Gojo would not be who he is today without Suguru. I generally get the sense that Gojo's idea of a good person isn't himself, but rather who Geto used to be before he broke. Gojo actually relied on on Geto for a lot more than he realized, considering it was the one connection he had that seemed to humanize him. Geto provided the chosen one who can do literally anything in the world with his powers, support and guidance. He was the jade, and the foundation of their two person friendship, and then the jade broke.

Gojo and Geto's broken relationship is not only the most emotional thing in the series to me, it's also an incredible part of who they are ten years after the fact. Gojo straight up didn't bother to make friends for ten years later after the fact even though he could have, Geto still told his daughters that Gojo and him were best friends, they just had a fight. He couldn't comperehend in Volume Zero that Gojo would still regard him as a friend after everything that they had done.

It's like one of those "Can't live with them, can't live without them" pairs. They want to be each other's one and only but it just won't work because they don't understand each other, and neither of them is willing to compromise. They are also each other's perfect yin / yang complement. Gojo is the opposite of Geto, and still carries a part of Geto within him, and Geto even after becoming the enemy of the sorcery world while Gojo is the savior, still carries that friendship with Gojo inside of him as well. While their relationship is a failed one, it's also a past I hope that the next generation Megumi and Itadori both learn from, even if Geto never truly comes back.

[sortofcaffeinateddoodles]

WHO WANTS TO SEE A SUPER CRINGE-Y AU I CAME UP WITH WHEN I WAS LIKE 13/14 BUT WAS TOO SHY ABOUT MY NON-EXISTENT ARTIST ABILITIES TO POST ANYTHING ABOUT?? well to bad you're gonna see it anyway  : P I was going though some old notebooks, trying to figure out what to keep and toss, because my closest was becoming a maze and I found doodles about this AU. So I decided I should try and redraw it all. But this is more of a "reboot" to the original version.

Perry

Species:

Platypus

Special talent:

No But Seriously Shapeshifting, Multilingual, pretty much immortal i'll talk more about that at a later date

Occupation: Former Bounty Hunter, but does more "legal" odd jobs now

Nickname Perry's too boring for those, but he does let his friends get away with calling him a dumb ass from time to time

Personality:e(s) Stubborn, Reserved, worrywart, softie for his kid

Relationships: He has no romantic relation, but Perry does look after Phineas, with the a little help from his other animal companions. He has an odd relationship with Doof though! Kinda like how they act in the show, but with less fist fighting and more bickering. Will fight Peter the Panda on sight. Don't test him.

Special Facts: Hates when anyone else sings around him, but never complains when Phineas or Doof get into musical numbers. Constantly stealing sweets, and dumb magazines from Doof. But usually replaces it with something of equal or more value. One time he raided the poor mans fridge, and the next day Doof found an gold necklace thrown lazily near one his flowerpots. Doof didn't want it, but Vanessa loved wearing it. When he wants to get out of a conversation, Perry will shapeshift into another animal and just leave. "sorry can't talk doof, i'm a horse now" "perry the platypus are you serious right now? You cant just leave in the midd-" "ah ah ah! i'm a horse."

Phineas

Species: Alary

Special talent: Singing and Dancing. Can fixing almost anything. Toaster always catch on fire for some reason. Loves exploring, and always finds something new. But please for the love of god, watch him. He will climb a tree and get stuck. Heights scare him to much.

Nickname Phinny, Phin, Cheerio and Puggle

Personality:e(s) Optimistic, curious, hyper Relationships: Phineas has had Perry taking care of him since he was baby. He was too young to remember what his parents look like, all he knows is that Perry found him in the Enchanted Woods one day.

Special Facts: This Phineas is a bit more shy around kids his own age. Having grown up around talking animals will mess up a kids social skills. Phineas has never met another Alary in his life, but has always secretly wanted too. Doesn't know how to fly, but he's trying his best!

Ferbs "Ferb" Fletcher

Species: Beast

Special talent: Can fix up anything you put in front of him. Likes to read, and secretly writes his own short stories.   Nickname None. But Buford calls him "skinny jeans" when he's trying to get a reaction out of him

Personality:e(s) Quiet, short tempered when annoyed, blunt, can be patient with younger kids

Relationships: Doesn't have many friends, but he hangs out with Buford the most. Also has a crush on Vanessa, but due to the age difference doesn't act on it.

Special: Ferb lives with his father and grandparents. His cousins live in the same neighborhood as him, their family having moved to Danville when he was a baby. Only reason Ferb acts so serious is because when he isn't hanging around Buford he's with Vanessa and her friends. Who all fit into the mean teenager stereotype.

Isabella Garcia-Shapiro

Species: Alary

Special talent: Since Isabella doesn't grow up with Phineas and Ferb, her summer days are spent at the Fireside cabin. Isabella has earned every patch there is to offer, and now is skilled in almost anything. It's honestly kinda scary.

Occupation:   Does a bit of baby sitting. Helps at her family restaurant Nickname Isa, Pinkie(Buford), heart-string

Personality:e(s) Sweet, Assertive, Romantic Relationships: Isabella spends most of her free time around the other Fireside Girls, but also spends her days hanging out with her next door neighbor. Baljeet. The two are close having grown up together, and she even considers him to be like a little brother.

Special Fact: Isabella may have been able to gain every patch there is to offer, but if there is one thing she struggles with, its magic. Isabella is considered a sweet girl, but every Saturday night she sneaks out to the town square to listen to the people playing music and dancing. Though since she can't risk getting caught, she never joins in on the dancing, even if there are other kids out to.

Baljeet Tjinder

Species: Alary

Special talent: Can finish reading any book in an hour, no matter the size. Has photogenic memory, and will bring up old crap from 6 months ago so don't try and get on his bad side.

Occupation:   Helps tutor kids at school for extra credit.

Nickname Nerd, but only Buford call him that.

Personality:e(s) Nervous, shy, prideful

Relationships: Only friend he has is Isabella. Him and Buford don't really interact outside of school.

Special Fact: Specializes in water type magic, but Baleet hopes to master fire type magic. Bajeet just really wants to specialize in all types of magic.

Buford Van Stoorm

Species: Beast

Special talent: Buford likes playing the drums at the Saturday Festivals.

Nickname No nicknames for The Buf'. he'll hurt you.

Personality:e(s) This version is 10x more violent than cannon Buford. He used to just make you cry, but now he'll make your momma cry, yo daddy cry, yo grandma, even your dog. Nothings off limit.

Relationships: Buford hangs around other sketchy kids. The only person who he enjoys spending time with is Ferb. Special Fact: Loves graffiti art, and has been caught a million times spray painting walls.

Canadace Flynn Garcia-Shapiro

Species: Alary

Special talent: Singing, can master almost any instrument in a day.

Occupation:   Studying to become a music teacher, but helps at her families restaurant.

Nickname Candy

Personality:e(s) Focused, cynical

Relationships: Candace is still friends with Stacy, and his dating Jeremy. Was adopted into the Garcia-Shapiro household at 9/10 years old. Any special facts about Candace would be too spoiler y

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Link to the sketch Version Here goes the colored version to my AU. I'm not too happy with Isabella's color palette so I might be changing it later, but for now deal with the pink okay. Originally Candace had a type of mesh robe, and she still does! But for simplicity I'll just be drawing her base outfit, Her robe is too complicated anyway, it is supposed to be covered in red roses. Also tell me if I should keep Phineas' hair curly. My sister looked over at what I was doing and straight up said it looked ugly. So yeah, I need an honest second opinion. The bio's are super basic because I really don't want to give away too much of the story. And most of the story revolves around how the kids think and act. AU (c) Me

[yandere-society]

Hmm how about a lovestruck ghost! Taehyung haunting y/n? Thank you so much!

See No Evil 

word count: 7.6k

author/admin: @kimseokmomjins

a/n: mentions of suicide, character death

“Well, home sweet home,” Namjoon remarked as he dropped two heavy suitcases with a clatter, outstretching his arms in a welcoming manner. The contents within the suitcase rattled, causing you to scold him for his carelessness. “Joon, there are fragile things in there!” Namjoon looked at you sheepishly, his dimpled, apologetic smile making it difficult for you to stay angry for even a fraction of a second. “Sorry, honey. Won’t happen again.” With a gentle scoff, you push past him and crossed the threshold into your new apartment, admiring the typical late-19th-century architecture: exposed beams, brick walls and floor-to-ceiling windows. Industrial, yet modernized for convenience and style.

After the movers had arranged your bulkier furniture and collected their payment, the two of you explored your small apartment. Tucked away under the mezzanine was a space big enough to be a small home-office— a set of glass sliding doors partitioning it off from the loft, granting you some privacy amidst the open floor-plan. It would be yours and Namjoon’s shared workspace, although Namjoon preferred to write his manuscripts the old fashioned way with pen and paper. But due to his long legs and restless nature, you figured he would probably be more comfortable lounging on the recliner instead of being cramped behind a desk.

In all honesty, your apartment was simple— the foundation, as well as the floors, were still from the original time period. The oak flooring was worn, showing decades of use, and there were pieces of mortar crumbling from the wall. But despite the flaws, there was no denying that it was the perfect beginner home for a newlywed couple. And affordable, too. You were surprised, to say the least, when the previous owners accepted Namjoon’s lowball offer, considering the fact that the place was downtown and should have cost way more than you had paid. In fact, the tenants seemed almost over-eager to move out of the loft, offering to give you the keys by the end of the week.

“So tell me, Joonie,” you said, hand idly grazing across the rugged surface of the wall. “How exactly are we going to afford this place? We both know that your books and my photography business aren’t gonna keep us afloat for very long, especially in a place like this.” Namjoon looked at you from behind a stack of plastic containers, a tan hand waving dismissively at your inquiry. “Don’t worry about it, the mortgage is at 3.85%, so we’ll pay it off in no time.” He drummed his fingers against his chin, calculating some quick arithmetic before continuing, “9 years and 7 months to be exact.” You cocked an eyebrow at him, knowing that Namjoon always got evasive whenever he wanted to avoid uncomfortable situations. “I really don’t think it’s best to start off your marriage with by lying to your wife, Namjoon,” you deadpanned. Although you loved Namjoon, he often overestimated his financial judgments. You’d rather not begin married life declaring bankruptcy, even if the apartment was beautiful. “Is your father helping us pay for the mortgage? I know you two aren’t on the best of terms but you should really consider—”

“Y/N,” Namjoon sighed. He stopped organizing and directed his attention to you, currently pacing back and forth between the kitchenette and living room. He could tell you were anxious. “We’re gonna be fine, alright?” Your husband approached you and pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in a sense of comfort. Two pillowy lips left a chaste kiss on the crown of your head, seeking to appeal to your good side. “Put some faith in lil old me.” You melted into Namjoon’s embrace, feeling pure marital bliss. “Sorry for not trusting you, babe,” you apologized, face snuggling into his broad chest. No matter where you were, Namjoon always felt like Home.

After whipping up lunch, you and Namjoon finally began to sort through boxes and containers, deciding what would go where. It was tedious, but with your husband’s strength and your Pinterest-inspired interior design skills, the two of you were able to effortlessly unbox and organize all essential items. As you arranged books on the bookcase, a sudden, frigid chill overcame your body. Goosebumps littered your arms, and you shuddered in response to the sudden drop in temperature. Seeking relief, you rummaged through a nearby box and retrieved one of Namjoon’s old sweatshirts. He eyed you curiously, silently questioning why you were wearing a hoodie in the middle of summer. “It’s really cold over here, Joonie,” you explain, motioning to the area near the bookcase. Namjoon shrugged his shoulders, “This place is old, the air ducts are probably faulty. I’ll fix it after we get all settled in, baby.” You returned to your task, focusing on shelving the books alphabetically by author’s last name, just like Namjoon preferred. Sometimes it was irksome being married to a published writer, but you knew he appreciated your efforts to keep up with his organizational habits.

You were stuck in your thoughts, mentally thinking about your work schedule for the next week, when you heard a deafening crash. Namjoon was gingerly rubbing his left knee amidst a sea of shattered glass and china, a box that read ‘FRAGILE’ bearing a gaping hole at the bottom. You rushed over to him, careful to avoid cutting your bare feet on the wreckage. “Babe, what happened?” You tenderly brushed your hand against his injured knee, assessing the damage. The writer groaned in pain, and you rushed to fetch him ice to reduce the swelling. “I dunno,” Namjoon mused through gritted teeth, “I was walking and the bottom of the box suddenly collapsed, and I kind of went tumbling with it.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly clearly embarrassed at his own mistake.

It was evident that he shouldered the blame for breaking your tableware the first day in your new home. “Thank God,” you said as you placed the ice pack on his knee, “Those old things were hand-me-downs anyway. We kind of needed new glasses and plates anyway.” You smiled fondly at your husband, letting him know you weren’t upset in the slightest. Mistakes happen, and you were both only human. Namjoon pulled you into a kiss, his lips eagerly molding into yours. When you parted, you gave your husband’s shoulder a playful shove.

“I swear, Kim Namjoon, your clumsy ass will be the death of me.”

•·················•·················•

Taehyung was confident he’d be able to scare you and your bumbling idiot of a husband into moving out of the house in a matter of days. In actuality, that’s exactly what he did to the previous tenant— a rich socialite who was spooked so bad he sold the apartment for less than what he had originally purchased it for. Taehyung found it rather comical when he scared the unwanted guest so badly that the man cowered under his sheets until the sun was high in the sky.

The ghost didn’t necessarily like playing the bad guy, but he also valued his personal space. Objectively, this was his apartment. He never agreed for it to be sold to the bank and refurbished for future tenants. Truth be told, Kim Taehyung was a selfish person, in life and in death. He never liked sharing, especially if it was something he considered aesthetically pleasing. His old studio was just that: four large windows provided just enough light for painting, the lofted platform perfect for lazing about on a Sunday morning, and the nook under the staircase provided a cozy place to sketch. But now his studio had been turned into an apartment for people with no sense of style or interest for the aesthetic.

After years of being trapped within the confines of his own home— a home which had been modernized so much that it no longer felt like his— Taehyung was bitter about any new resident, no matter their intentions. That included you and Namjoon, who were the current targets of the phantom’s disturbances.

He thought it would be easy to scare the daylights out of both of you. In his eyes, the two newlyweds looked naive and fresh-faced. It irked Taehyung slightly to see a couple so blissed-out and in love. The only thing Kim Taehyung had ever loved was his art— it was lifeline, his sole reason for existence. He was sure he loved art just as fiercely as your husband loved you. Regardless, the bitter, twisted side of Taehyung sought to ruin the marriage so he could live in solitude once more.

It started with the small things— your husband tripping over thin air, or losing something he had set on the dining table. Cold spots materialized out of thin air for seemingly no reason whatsoever, and occasionally a light would be left on when both you and your husband knew you had turned it off. Still, none of those things bothered either of you. Taehyung had soon learned that your husband, Namjoon, despite being logical and book-smart, was clumsy and forgetful by nature. You always attributed these small instances towards the buffoon, which irritated the specter to no end.

Soon, Taehyung had begun to learn more about the personalities of his unwanted tenants. While Namjoon was klutzy, you, on the other hand, were quite the opposite. Taehyung noticed that you carried yourself with a sense of confidence and elegance. Despite your strong-willed nature, you never lost your temper, even when your husband lashed out during arguments. The thing that interested the entity the most, though, was the fact that you were an artist, just like he once was.

While Taehyung never liked lingering around the previous tenants, he often found himself entertained by your small habits and quirks. He especially enjoyed watching you work. He found your profession intriguing. You captured masterpieces on film with just a lense and keen eye for design. Taehyung observed the way you perfected your pictures, using a program on the device you called a ‘computer’. He found it endearing how you always immersed yourself completely when editing your digital canvas— it reminded him of himself and the many hours he spent perfecting his portraits. Sometimes, Taehyung would lean over your shoulder to further inspect your work, and he swore there were moments when you looked directly at him. It was then that Taehyung realized you were also quite intuitive. He wondered if you could sense his presence as he watched over you. Perhaps he’d test his hypothesis by leaving you a gift.

•·················•·················•

Namjoon was out for the afternoon, needing to discuss his release schedule with his editor and publisher. You, on the other hand, were editing pictures of a wedding you had recently shot. Namjoon’s college buddy, Jungkook, had just gotten engaged to his high school sweetheart, and your free photography service was the next best thing you could gift them. The couple truly was photogenic.

Trying to enjoy your day home alone, you placed a vinyl on the record player and settled back into your chair. It was an antique album of jazz from the 1920’s given to you as a wedding gift. Namjoon was stubborn in the sense that he exclusively listened to rap and very rarely was he willing to expand his musical horizons. You, on the other hand, listened to practically every genre. It helped your creative juices flow. It was rare that you got to indulge in your eclectic discography.

You worked diligently, the syncopated rhythm jazzy beats keeping you from getting distracted by other computer applications. As the climax of the song fell into a soft lull, your ears perked up to a curious sound. It was faint, but you could’ve sworn you heard a whistle—to the exact same tune as the current song. The recording was extremely old, so you assumed the sound was probably just due to old age or poor recording technique. It never crossed your mind that maybe it wasn’t the record’s old age that was the source of the whistling, but instead Taehyung, who was, once again, watching you work. He loved jazz and was pleased that you, too, were a fan of his favorite genre. His favorite pastime used to involve seeing jazz bands at the local speakeasy. Maybe he’d tell you about it after you two got acquainted.

The record ended, the needle thumping lightly as it rolled over the unetched grooves. Just as you were about to get up to turn off the record player, you noticed a silhouette in the reflection of your computer monitor. It was merely a glimpse, because the split second in which you blinked, the shadow had disappeared. You spun around in your chair, eyes cautiously scanning behind you. “What the fuck,” you cursed under your breath, chills once again seeping under your skin. Your mind struggled to rationalize the eerie occurrence, chalking it up to being a trick of the light. Despite your logical side telling you it was not a ghost, it was seemingly impossible to disregard the sensation of being watched. Paranoia ate at your subconscious, and you no longer felt comfortable in your small office. Sighing, you saved your latest project on Adobe and logged off the desktop.

You stood, stretching your arms high above your head in an attempt to alleviate the tension between your shoulders. “Jeez, I should probably shower before Joon comes home,” you mused absentmindedly, kneading away a knot in your left shoulder.

Under the presumption that you were alone in your own home, you began stripping off layers of your loungewear until you were left in nothing but your undergarments. Unbeknownst to you, the ghost watched from a few feet away, ready to enact his devised plan. As soon as your figure disappeared behind the bathroom door, Taehyung began collecting your scattered clothes. The cotton fabrics were scratchy and cheap, unlike the furs and silk he was accustomed to in his mortal life, but that didn’t dissuade him from bringing the garments to his chest, cradling the bundle almost affectionately. Once he heard the shower roar to life, Taehyung apparated into the bathroom and folded your clothes, placing the neat pile on the vanity.

The bathroom filled with hazy steam, the mirrors fogging up with condensation. Taehyung took this opportunity to leave you a message— something, anything— that would clue you into his presence. He languidly trailed his finger along the glass surface, the corner of his lower lip pulled between his teeth in concentration. His message was simple: the 22nd letter of the alphabet. V. The signature he once used to mark his masterpieces.

Suddenly, the shower abruptly cut off, prompting Taehyung to dissipate into the steam.

During the entirety of your shower, you felt unnerved— as if a 30-pound weight of anxiety had settled itself upon your shoulders. Usually, you’d take your time to bask in the warmth of the water and indulge in a mini scalp massage as you washed and conditioned your hair, but today you rushed through the motions. You toweled off quickly, eyes darting around the small glass chamber, trying to pinpoint what could have been triggering your paranoia. The dense humidity that you’d usually find comforting now felt oppressing like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. Stepping onto the shower mat, your eyes caught sight of a pile of clothes resting on the bathroom counter. Your clothes, the same ones you swore you left on the floor. Racking your brain for some sort of rationale, you struggle to even remember if you’d even picked them up in the first place, much less folded them.

You ran your fingers through your wet hair in apparent frustration. “You spend way too much time staring at a computer, Y/N,” you scolded yourself. “It’s beginning to take a toll on your mental state.” Taehyung watched from the corner, finding your habit of talking to yourself to be incredibly endearing. He noted that you often talked to yourself when you were annoyed or confused. With a heaving sigh, you momentarily left the bathroom to fetch clean clothes. When you returned, you dropped your towel and Taehyung respectfully averted his attention, refraining from peeking at your naked form. He was a gentleman, after all.

Anticipation bubbled inside Taehyung as he waited for the moment when you’d notice his message on the mirror. You peered at the mirror, your brow furrowing when you saw a solitary letter scrawled across its surface. “Huh?” Again, you could not, for the life of you, remember when— or why, for that matter— you had written V on your bathroom mirror. It meant nothing to you.

Taehyung watched in joyous suspense, waiting for the ‘aha!’ moment where you would acknowledge that you weren’t alone in the apartment. But his hopeful expectations quickly soured into annoyance when he saw your hand wipe away the V, removing condensation from the mirror. Taehyung’s lips curled into a scowl, his eyes glaring daggers into the back of your head as you bent over to wash your face. Resurfacing in search of a towel, your attention caught onto the man standing in the corner of your bathroom.

Your eyes locked with his, and you felt a familiar chill run down your spine. The man was gorgeous— high cheekbones framed by wavy locks of dark hair, tanned skin, and a piercing gaze. You took him in through the reflection, awestruck yet frightened. He emitted an intimidating aura, unbefitting of his benevolent appearance. This had to have been a hallucination. There was absolutely no way that a random man could have gotten into your apartment, much less go unnoticed by you while you showered and changed.

Taehyung wanted to reach you, to let you know that he had been here watching you— that although he wasn’t tangible, he was still him. Real and authentic. That is when he let your name roll off his tongue for the very first time. Every syllable felt right to him like it was second nature. Taehyung thought you’d be ecstatic over him addressing you personally. But instead, it only instilled an immense sense of horror. How the hell did he know your name?

“This can’t be happening,” you murmured, eyes as wide as saucers. You frantically spun around, expecting to be face-to-face with the mysterious man, but all that met you was a blank wall. Impossible! He was just there, and he looked so real. Trembling hands traveled the expanse of the bathroom wall, feeling for any inconsistencies or clues as to where the man went. You were certain you were insane and sensed a panic attack fast approaching.

Stumbling out of the bathroom and towards the coffee table, you struggled to unlock your cellphone, the fingerprint recognition not cooperating with your damp thumb. After a few seconds of awkward fumbling, you were finally able to access Namjoon’s contact and initiated a call. The call rang a few times before being sent to voicemail, and you immediately redialed.

“N-Namjoon,” you gasped when your spouse finally answered your call. “Come home now. Some, someone was in the ap-p-partment.”

“What? Why the hell are you calling me? Call 911!” Namjoon lectured, his voice raising an octave higher. “He-He’s gone now, at least I think,” you responded quietly, hunching over your phone. “It was a guy? Shit, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m physically fine,” you mumbled. You were about to explain the strange occurrences that had happened while home alone, but Namjoon spoke over you. “What a relief. Look, Y/N, I’m in a meeting with my editor, can you wait until I get home?” You were never one to snap at your husband, much less interrupt him, but you were spooked beyond belief.  “Plea— Namjoon, please, tell your editor that it’s an emergency.” You heard him grunt, and that is when your resolved cracked. “I’m… I’m really scared, Joonie,” you confessed pathetically. By now, tears had spilled from your eyes and were cascading down your cheeks, creating tiny pools on the hardwood floor. Namjoon’s heart wrenched when he heard the anguish in your voice. You were always level-headed and rational, never had he seen you so upset. “Alright, Y/N. I’m on my way back.”

While you stayed on the phone with your husband, Taehyung lounged about on your sofa, watching you spiral further and further into hysterics. Although he found your overreaction to be quite amusing, the specter did feel slightly remorseful. Taehyung knew you likely wouldn’t have processed the confrontation so easily, especially since it didn’t go exactly as planned, but the sadist within him felt pleased that you were frightened. You had made him soft, which caused him to forget his initial objective: to drive you and your useless husband out of his house.

Taehyung startled when the front door burst open to reveal a haggard-looking Namjoon. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair was matted with sweat, evident that he had opted to walk home instead of waiting for the subway. The ghost observed your spouse as he searched the loft for any traces of your presence. Namjoon found you on your bed curled into the fetal position with the comforter pulled taut above your head. He sat down on the edge of the bed, a large, tan hand gently removing the covers that shielded you. “Baby, what happened?” He pulled you onto his lap, knowing that you found skinship comforting. You choked down a sob, still traumatized from the situation.

“I was, I was working. And I thought I heard a whistle during this song. It sounded really close, but I ignored it. It could’ve just been the neighbors… But then I saw something in the reflection of my computer monitor,” you began shakily. Despite having no organs and not being able to feel pain, Taehyung felt a slight pain in his chest when being described as a ‘something’. He was a person too, just without his physical body.

“So, I took a break because maybe I was just tired, you know?” Namjoon hums in agreement, still not understanding what had you so frightened. “I distinctly remember leaving my clothes outside of the bathroom. I left them in a pile near the sofa. But,” you gulped, “But when I got out, my clothes were next to the sink. And they were folded.” Judging by the way Namjoon was looking at you skeptically, you could tell he was not bothered by your story in the slightest. “You know what else is crazy? Get this: I’m showering and even though the water is hot, I’m practically shivering. And I felt like someone was watching me! It was so unnerving.”

“Okay, go on,” your husband urges, and you oblige. “So I get out of the shower, and there’s my clothes on the sink, and the letter ‘V’ written on the mirror. Why would I write that, Namjoon?” You ask rhetorically, but being the smartass that he was, Namjoon had to impart his own opinion. “Maybe you did it without noticing or remembering. I do that sometimes.”

“No, I definitely didn’t do that. I mean, what does that letter even mean? It’s not even a complete thought. It was probably that guy, the one I saw in the bathroom.” You could see that your argument was beginning to turn the gears in Namjoon’s mind, his brow furrowing in worry. “What guy, baby? Why didn’t you call the police? He could’ve hurt you.” You inhaled deeply, eyes squeezing shut as you conjured the memory you desperately tried to shut away. “He- He was standing behind me. I didn’t hear him come in, it was like he just appeared there! He was super creepy too, he kept staring at me.” There was another word that hurt Taehyung deeply: creepy. Was he really that frightening to you? Back in the day, he was told that he was quite the charmer, and he specifically remembered his smile being compared to that of a puppy. He was, by no means, ‘creepy’, as you so tactlessly described him.

“Namjoonie, he knew my name.” You shudder involuntarily at the thought. “I heard him say it. He knows me! He knows where we live, and he knows my name!” Once again, the panic you had suppressed resurfaced, and you pull yourself into Namjoon’s chest to seek security. “Please don’t think I’m crazy but… When I turned around, he was gone. It was like he wasn’t even there to begin with. But I know he was real, I just know it. I saw him, Joon! I heard him speak!” For a minute, you thought your husband might actually believe you— he looked concerned, upset, even. Your husband ran a hand through his hair, brushing the bangs out of his face. It was the tell-tale sign that he was deep in thought. Without a word, Namjoon readjusted you on his lap and rested the back of his hand on your forehead, checking for a fever.

“I’m not sick, Namjoon,” you muttered. He patted your thigh reassuringly, “I’m just making sure.” A heavy silence settled between the two of you until Namjoon broke the tension. “You know, there’s an explanation for this,” he mused, looking up at the high ceilings. “I saw this on Reddit, but a guy kept finding post-it notes around his house that he swore he never wrote. He was seeing strange shadow people and hearing noises.” You gave your husband a perplexed look, unsure of where his anecdote was going. “So, the guy checks the carbon monoxide levels in his house and it turns out there was a leak. He had been poisoned and was suffering from memory loss and hallucinations.”

You rolled your eyes, finding his roundabout insinuations frustrating, “What are you implying here, Joon?”

He inhaled deeply, clearly trying to control his temper. “I think you should consider the possibility that maybe there are environmental factors causing this.” You stood abruptly, your head almost hitting his chin. You faced your husband, who looked utterly dumbfounded at your sudden outburst. You rarely reacted with such ebullition. “You don’t believe me,” you stated as a matter-of-factly. Throwing your hands in the air, you paced around the loft mezzanine, unknowingly passing by Taehyung, who was sat at the top of the stairs. “I knew it! You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“No, no, I never said that, don’t put words in my mouth,” Namjoon said as he stood, hip cocked to the right. “You’re clearly shaken, and I hate to see you so afraid in our home, our safe place. But there’s clearly logical solutions. I mean, have you checked the CO detector? It probably needs new batteries.”

You laughed dryly, shaking your head in disbelief. “Namjoon, we literally moved in like, a week ago. All the appliances are new, as well as the smoke and monoxide detectors. I don’t think that’s it.”

“You never know,” he retorted, “You have to think about these things rationally, babe. It’s a possibility.” Something about Namjoon’s words rubbed you the wrong way— why did you feel so… spiteful? Were his words a subtle jab at your intelligence? Was he implying that you weren’t his equal because you didn’t attend a fancy college and get a degree like him?

Or maybe it due to Taehyung, who lingered in the area, filtering his own negative energy into the situation. He enjoyed watching the breakdown of a marriage that had only just begun. Perhaps you’d get to keep the apartment from the divorce.

“Oh, so you’re saying I don’t think? Is that what it is, Namjoon?” You were nearing hysterics, something completely out-of-the-norm for you.  Namjoon approached you, his hands running down your arms in an attempt to assuage your distress. “Babe, calm down, that’s no—”

“Don’t ‘babe, calm down’ me, Kim Namjoon,” you countered, shrugging his hands off your forearms. “This, this thing that happened to me was real. And as your wife, I am begging for your comfort and support.” The look in your eyes drove a dagger through Namjoon’s heart. Never before had he seen you in so much pain, and it frustrated him to no end that he couldn’t immediately solve your problems. Lacing his fingers with yours, Namjoon brought your hands to his lips and kissed your knuckles. It immediately alleviated the tension in the room, the simple gesture conveying sincere affection.

“Y/N, sweetie… I’m sorry for disregarding your feelings. I was talking out of my ass, because… Well, you know how I am. I can be a huge prick sometimes. ” You smirked at his declaration and snuggled into the broad expanse of his chest. “Yeah, you can be. But that’s okay, I still love you.” Namjoon wrapped his arms around you, elbows resting upon your shoulders. “Look, I’ll pay for a home security system to be installed, okay? Will that make you feel better?” You nodded wordlessly, expressing your gratitude by kissing his pectoral.

Taehyung watched tender moment with growing resentment. He was furious— furious that all could be forgotten after a few empty words and a hug. The wraith stormed down the stairs, lithe fingers tugging at the roots of his dark hair in anguish. When he was alive, he never indulged in romance or trysts, as it would disrupt his productivity. But now all he wanted was to be noticed and held, just like Namjoon, but instead, he was only being forgotten. Taehyung never realized how lonely he was until he found you, and now all he wanted to do was talk with you about art and music; he wanted to tell you about his life and ask about yours. The artist wanted to paint you from sunrise to sunset, capturing every freckle that littered your body. You could be his muse, his Calliope.

Due to Taehyung’s selfish nature, he had never once felt like he wasn’t in control of his life. Even after death he always got what he wanted. But this time, everything was slowly falling through his fingers, and all he could do was sit back and watch.

Or maybe not.

On the wall in front of the ghost hung a portrait of you and Namjoon on your wedding day, gleefully smiling with rosy cheeks. Taehyung’s finger delicately traced over your face, as if the glass would crumble under his touch. He truly had grown fond. The pad of Taehyung’s thumb glided towards the man opposite you, your husband. Little by little, he exerted pressure onto the fragile surface until it buckled under the force and created small, webbed fissures across the pane.

Taehyung’s tongue peeked out and swiped across his lower lip, stoic face deep in contemplation. This time, his plan wouldn’t— no, it couldn’t fail.

•·················•·················•

Days turned into weeks, and you wondered if perhaps Namjoon installing the alarm system actually discouraged trespassing, because there hadn’t been another encounter with the mysterious man. Things were tranquil, almost eerily so. Of course there were times when you swore you had seen a shadow from the corner of your eye, or you’d hear the faintest of whistles to the tune of Down Hearted Blues’ chorus, but for the most part, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Until today, that is.

You had spent the majority of your day searching for Namjoon’s blue and red Nintendo Switch controllers. You looked in all the typical places: under the sofa, in the bed, behind the television. But you also searched in unconventional places, finding that Namjoon always managed to misplace things in the most random spots, like the time he put his keys inside the dishwasher, for instance. Namjoon swore left and right that he’d left both joy-cons docked on the Switch, but as you scoured almost every hiding spot in your apartment, you were beginning to lose all hope of finding the controllers. How could Namjoon be so forgetful that he loses neon joy-cons? You smirk at the thought of your spouse losing the entire Switch, imagining Namjoon mourning the loss of 143 hours spent on Breath of the Wild.

There was only one place you had yet to look, and that was the closet. It was improbable that the joy-cons would be found amongst your clothes, but it didn’t hurt to look. You rifled through Namjoon’s hoodie collection and checked all the drawers contents. Still, no joy-cons.

Just to be sure you had searched every nook and cranny, you got on your knees to check behind countless pairs of shoes and their respective boxes. You set aside a box containing Namjoon’s old Timberlands— ones from his college days, he said they contained ‘too much sentiment’ to donate— and noticed an unfamiliar box. It was about two foot wide, and just as deep, with the brown wood showing years, maybe even decades, of wear. You don’t recall either you nor Namjoon owning something this vintage, and you wondered if perhaps the previous tenant left it when he moved out. Inspecting the perimeter, you noted the two small brass clasp locks were undone, which allowed you to lift the lid with slight difficulty, due to its hinges being slightly rusted.

Inside were various tools: pencils, charcoal, brushes, varnishes, and what appeared to be a small palette. But there, in amidst all the utensils, were the two joy-cons. Your brows furrowed in confusion, unsure of how the controllers even got inside this box in the back of your closet. “Joonie,” you shouted, your voice echoing through the open space. When you heard no response, you yelled again, only this time with a bit more vigor. “Joooooooonie!” After a few seconds of silence, you heard his muffled baritone voice filter through the bathroom door. “Just a sec, babe. I’m shaving!” You hummed contemplatively, curious at the contents of the trunk.

Rummaging through the box, you found small pieces of parchment paper lined with sketches. Buildings, sculptures, household objects, and even a small dog— vaguely reminding you of a Pomeranian— were the subjects of these delineations, each creation signed in the lower right-hand corner with a simple letter V. You appraised the sketches with much ardor, infatuated with the artist’s distinct, bold linework. From afar, Taehyung watched you fondly, his heart softening and swelling with pride. After weeks of constantly hiding your husband’s things, you had finally stumbled across Taehyung’s treasure trove; the only thing left that validated his existence. His hopes, his dreams, the only artwork that remained after his passing. The ghost was ecstatic that you were so enthralled by his sketches.

You leafed through the pieces of parchment until you come upon the drawing of a man. You had seen no other sketches of people, only inanimate objects or animals. Just like with the previous sketches, this one had the characteristic harsh linework, indicating it was drawn by the same artist. Although, it was only partially finished, with the face being the only thing incomplete. The corner was missing its signature V, instead reading: ‘kth, self-portrait, 1926’. Your fingers traced the dull edge of the paper as you studied the unfinished drawing.

Curiously flipping the paper over, you were hit with an intense bout of nausea. Memories of the incident not too long ago reappeared and reignited your fear. You recognized the man in the photograph— his feline eyes, strong jaw, full lips, and dark, shaggy hair that curled around the nape of his neck. He was sat on a chair, just like the sketch, with his left ankle drawn over his right knee, a stiff smile pulling taught against his lips. It was him, the man from the reflection. Here he was, posing for a photograph that took places ages ago, if you could infer from the worn, sepia coloration.

Instinctively, you called for your husband, but words caught in a lump in your throat. Was this simply déjà vu, or had you actually seen this man before? Panic returned, and hot, heavy tears rolled down your face, dotting the photograph that you held tightly. The paper was beginning to wrinkle under your tight grasp, and Taehyung worried that it would unintentionally rip. He was about to reach out and comfort you, when Namjoon brushed passed him, shuddering at the sudden tickle of cold air.

“Babe, why are you crying?” Namjoon asked softly, crouching down so he was at eye-level. You looked at him with eyes unfocused and wordlessly showed him the photograph. He studied it, confusion clouding his features as he attempted to discern the cause of your distress. “What is it? It’s just a picture.” You narrowed your eyes at your husband, “Joon, this is him. The guy I saw from the bathroom.” You shoved the photograph closer, as if it emphasized your point. Namjoon laughed, a mix between a sigh and an uncomfortable chuckle. “Y/N, this is a joke, right? Because it’s not very funny.” Taken aback by his snarky tone, you stare at him, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, what?” Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses further up his face.

“Look, I thought we left this behind us. I’ve had a security system installed, I’ve checked all the gas detectors, I’ve even had an HVAC guy come in to look at the ventilation system. There is nothing wrong with this apartment,” Namjoon asserted with vexation. He was clearly frustrated by your behavior, but you were also frustrated with his fierce skepticism.

You stood your ground, not backing down from confronting his stubbornness. “Namjoon, I would have believed that if I didn’t find your joy-cons hidden inside this…this random person’s box in the back of our closet! This isn’t just a one-time thing. Your things always end up in some obscure location, and even though it’s the middle of the summer, our apartment still freezing. Joon,  I think you should consider other… possibilities.” Namjoon collected himself from the floor, his soft, kind eyes no longer present. He was beyond irate at this point, and he began to lash out at none other than you. “Consider what? That this is the work of a fucking ghost or something?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung chuckled amusedly to himself. It was his doing after all.

“Y/N, you need to grow up and stop being so scared all the time. It’s a fucking apartment, not a graveyard,” Namjoon spat. “Just because someone died here doesn’t mean a ghost is haunting us!” As soon as the words left his mouth, Namjoon instantly regretted them. He noticed the color drain from your face, despite you attempting to act unbothered. Your emotions betrayed you, resulting in a tumultuous blowout.

“So you… You lied to me?” Your eyes contained a profound hurt. He should have relented and begged for forgiveness, but Namjoon was both proud and stubborn.

“Well, I didn’t lie to you, since you never asked,” he corrected, “The topic just never came up…” You picked yourself off the floor, a lackluster laugh escaping your lips. Of course Namjoon couldn’t— no, wouldn’t— apologize. It was something you knew about him while you dated, and something you knew you’d have to tolerate as a spouse. With a strained voice, you pressed for more answers. “How long ago?” Namjoon ran his hands over his face in distress. “The twenties,” was his simple response. Almost a hundred years ago, such a long time for four walls and a roof to harbor a dirty secret. You continued your husband’s mock interrogation, arms crossed protectively across your chest. “What happened?”

Namjoon inhaled deeply, his fingers twiddling idly in front of him. “Well, from what I know, this used to be an artist’s studio. He went by the moniker ‘V’, and was pretty popular at one time. Like, his paintings actually sold for quite some money. But the Great Depression hit and uh,” Namjoon winced, trying to spare you the gory details. “He hung himself in the loft,” he finished, a calloused finger pointing up towards the exposed steel beams that lined the ceiling. “The place has been renovated since then, don’t worry,” Namjoon said that as if renovations were the least of your worries, like a human, a person, hadn’t once taken their life where you and he sleep at night.

You were never one to delve too deep into paranormal lore— the most you’d ever experienced was a haunted house, and the occasional horror movie. But from what you knew from pop-culture, the warning signs had been apparent all along. Everything made sense: the missing objects, the cold spots, the intense feelings of dread and paranoia. Hell, maybe even your cracked wedding portrait, which Namjoon blamed on the moving company, was a sign of a poltergeist. The final puzzle piece was the low purchasing price of the apartment, as well as how eager the previous tenant was to move out. Your apartment really was haunted.

“I,” Namjoon choked, struggling to conceal his guilt. “I thought it was the right thing to do.” Tears welled in his eyes, and you softened at his vulnerable state. “I didn’t want us to struggle to pay rent, and I thought… I thought I could keep this from you, I thought I could keep it hidden so that you wouldn’t worry.” Caressing his cheek, you planted a soft kiss where his dimple usually indents, before turning your back on him.

“I want to move, Joon,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t live here anymore.”

But it was still loud enough for Taehyung to hear. Leave? After all he’d done for you? He waited patiently from the sidelines for the moment he could hold your hand, the moment he could capture your beauty on his canvas. Taehyung sat through stuffy housewarming parties, movie nights with your girlfriends, and suffered through every single one of yours and Namjoon’s date-night lovemaking sessions. He deserved a chance to feel you underneath him too. Taehyung had done so much for you, loved you so profoundly, but you just hadn’t noticed.

In his panic, Taehyung attempted to reach out to you, but his path blocked by Namjoon. Taehyung knew that, at least in theory, a ghost could take possession of a host, either willing or unwilling. He had never tried it, never seeing it necessary, except for now. He didn’t want to see you go. Taehyung pressed his arm to Namjoon’s back, a tingling sensation stinging the ghost’s arm as he soon became enveloped in an uncomfortable warmth, being drawn further and further into his host. Taehyung felt his mind being pulled from multiple directions like a vacuum was suctioning his entire soul into the taller man. He wanted to scream, he wanted to yell out your name in hopes that by some miracle you could save him, but he was met with peace as he fell into darkness.

And then, he blinked. Followed by another. And another.

Taehyung focused his eyes on you; on your stiff posture as you continuously ignored your husband, waiting for him to agree to your proposal. He went to move but felt so heavy. He looked down at his hands, well, Namjoon’s hands, and smirked devilishly. The stories really were true— Taehyung could occupy any living host. He could be with you now, feel your warmth and kiss your lips.

Taehyung approached you, albeit awkwardly, as he was unaccustomed to his host’s long legs, and pulled you into a hug, his cheek resting on the crown of your head. “I’m sorry, my love,” he cooed, further nuzzling himself into your hair. The nickname sounded so foreign to your ears, as Namjoon always chose to refer to you with simple terms of endearment. He was never one to sugarcoat. “Please forgive my stupidity. It was never my intention to hurt you,” Taehyung continued, hands grazing across your clavicle. Again, you noted your husband’s change in speech, his words sounding dated and empty. Was he trying to be poetic? He may be a writer, but you’d never heard him use such eloquent speech in his daily vocabulary.

Taehyung snaked a finger around your chin, angling your face so he could have better access to your mouth. He laid a chaste kiss upon your lips, relishing in the satisfaction that he finally was able to feel your warmth. The same warmth that would soon be gone.

The sun came cascading through the magnificent windows, illuminating your husband’s face in the most ethereal ways possible. “Joonie,” you murmured as your lips parted, eyes studying him intently. His gentle eyes, chubby cheeks, and button nose were still the same as always. But in the glint of the sun, his appearance changed, but only for a fraction of a second. Gone were his dimples, now replaced with a tiny freckle of the tip of his nose. Round, almond pools of warmth were sharp and hardened, set under a pair of strong eyebrows. This face was not the one of the man you loved— the man you married. It was the face of the man from the photograph, the one who had long since passed away. He was gone in a second, replaced again by your husband’s dimpled smile.

Giving you the sweetest of looks, you felt Namjoon’s hands coil around your neck, constricting tighter as life slowly left your eyes. “Even in death, we will never part, my love,” Taehyung whispered, a sole tear trickling down his host’s cheek. He held on steadfastly, even after your body had gone limp, ensuring you were properly taken care of. Taehyung only let go of your neck when he felt his host being pulled back to the surface, begging to take control. He relinquished, letting himself be drawn back into the spiritual realm.

Taehyung could not believe his eyes when he saw you, looking down at your physical self sullenly. Your body was being cradled in Namjoon’s arms, violent sobs wracking his body as he held you close. The ghost flashed you a bright, toothy smile that stretched from ear to ear. Finally, you were his.

“Welcome home.”

[fandima-moved-read-pinned]

Would it be awesome to see you do all 100 asks? Yes. Will you do them? We shall see.

Wanna bet 

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? - More cereal than milk! 

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?- No, actually. I hate the cold ^^' And if there's cold air on my cheeks then it's on my nose and that's no good 

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? - Usually a post it note! Not very random, but it's normally what I have on hand. 

4: how do you take your coffee/tea? - Depends on my mood! Sometimes I'll take my coffee black, other times ill add a fricc ton of creamer, whipped cream, and sugar. Also sometimes I mix coffee with hot chocolate and it's amazing. 

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? - Very. 

6: do you keep plants? - Always. I still have the carnations from Valentines Day (which surprisingly haven't died yet) 

7: do you name your plants? - Nope. 

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? - just a mechanical pencil or a graphite pencil. They usually end up being sketches. But if I like how it looks I'll go over them in pen. 

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? - Yes and no? I'd do it more often but I don't want anyone to hear me. Especially my mom. 

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? - Side, always facing the wall. 

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends? - The only one I can think of off the top of my head is *slap slap slap* *jumps out window*. No I will not explain. 

12: what’s your favorite planet? - Pluto! Or Make Make. Make Make used to be my favorite because me and my brother would pronounce it wrong on purpose. But Pluto is ver pretty. 

13: what’s something that made you smile today? - seeing my brother's reaction to his birthday present from me! I made a little felt monkey with bushy eyebrows (I needle felted it) 

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? - Probably very messy. But also it would constantly smell like food! 

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! - Mars is shrinking. It is Smol. 

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish? - Fettuccine Alfredo with Shrimp! It's what I usually ordered at Olive Garden until I found out that it was expensive and was probably stressing out my parents. 

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? - Don't laugh okay but pink! I want to dye the bottom half of my hair bright freaking pink. Like hot pink. 

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. - That time I slapped a guy twice for picking me up. That guy was my best friend. He picked me up from behind and I sorta whipped around and slapped him. The first time he didn't put me down, he just laughed. So I slapped him again. He got the hint. 

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?- I don't. I tried a while back, but I figured it would be easier just to talk to people about my issues instead of writing them down. 

20: what’s your favorite eye color? - Green. Or dark brown. 

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. - Not sure what this means, sorry. I've got this pencil pouch that has a tree print on it that I've used for a few years now even though it has a hole it it. Does that count? 

22: are you a morning person? - No. I wake up at 5:30 am on weekdays and usually don't get out of bed until I have ten minutes to get ready and leave. 

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? - Stay in my room and draw! Although I don't have lazy days. Every time my mom comes upstairs I immediately start cleaning because if I don't she'll yell at me for being lazy. 

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? - Yes. Take a look at who sent this ask. Also my other two online friends! One of them I spam with worms on a string and the other I just know I can trust and I don't know why. 

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? - the only place I've broken into is my own house. I had to climb the backyard fence to go through the back door because me and my brother forgot our keys. 

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? - My plain black tennis shoes. I need to get new ones because these ones are old and barely fit but every time I mention it, it's like I never said a word. 

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? - Candy Cane! 

28: sunrise or sunset? - Sunset! I get to see the sun setting behind the Rocky Mountains and it's really pretty. 

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? - exist 

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? - Yes. I'd rather not talk about it. 

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. - socks can burn in hell for all I care. I hate socks. I only wear them if I have to (like while wearing shoes) 

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. - I remember being at a sleepover a few days before I moved (this was in South Korea) and I woke up at 3:34 am (yes I remember the time don't ask why) because one of my friends was playing Megalovania on the keyboard. Then she turned around and asked who the hell took her pretzels. They were under her pillow. 

33: what’s your fave pastry? - c w a s o a n t (with jelly inside!) 

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? - I still have this stuffed animal now (I have all of my stuffed animals. I haven't brought myself to get rid of them). It's a little pink blanket with a bunny head named Squeek. Not Squeak. I didn't know how to spell that. 

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? - No. I don't have any. 

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now? - https://youtu.be/7TqLXIBG-6g   not a band but still

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? - Messy! It may sound strange, but I can't find anything when it's clean. It also feels empty unless I've got stuff all over the floor. 

38: tell us about your pet peeves! - When I tell remind someone of the rules and they say "okay" and continue breaking them. Like we aren't supposed to put pans in the dishwasher because it ruins the pans. Yet my brother always puts them in there. I remind him and take it out, and he says "okay" and puts it back. I also hate it when I ask someone to stop doing something (usually when it's making me nervous or upset) and they ask "WhY?" in a really annoying tone and keep doing it. I ALSO hate it when I'm in charge and yet no one listens to me. 

I also don't like it when no one says thank you. It makes it seem like they don't appreciate me. 

39: what color do you wear the most? - Grey. I want to wear colorful clothes but the last time we went clothes shopping and I asked for pastel colors, I walked out of the store with grey, light grey, brown, and dark blue clothes. 

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you? - I have a locket that I made for my seventh birthday. It has little charms in it (a rose, my first initial, a heart key, and a birthday cake) and it's gold. I love it and I don't know why. 

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving? - There's a book series that I don't remember the name of but it's about a girl who is forcibly turned into a siren by three other sirens. She has to eat human hearts to live. It's kinda gorey, kinda romantic, lots of action. I love it. 

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! - Unfortunately no, I usually get coffee at a gas station ^^' 

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? - My dog Freyja! Whenever I take out trash, she comes with, and when the sky is clear I like to point out the starts with her before we go back inside. She's very sweet. But I can't stargaze for more than a minute. 

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? - Last year I went on a trip to Florida to stay with my grandparents for a week. I remember waking up one morning with a beautiful view of the ocean and the sound of waves crashing onto the shore. My grandparents have an apartment of sorts that faces the Atlantic and you can literally go down the stairs and go swim in the ocean if you want to, it's like a two minute walk, not even. I love the ocean and the sound of waves and seagulls is always calming to me. But my house is very loud and there's no peace here. 

45: do you trust your instincts a lot? - Yes. When I have a bad feeling about something, I address it. It's not always true, but I don't want to risk anything. 

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of. - Sorry, I don't know many puns. I guess I'm just not a pun-ny person. 

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? - fucking macaroni with bread crumsb that shit is nasty af 

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? - Storms, especially tornados. Now my biggest fear is death. Whether I'm the one dying or its someone I care about. 

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? - Not really, I don't have money to buy anything ^^' Even when I do have money, I spend it on art stuff. That reminds me that I need to fix my radio. 

50: what’s an odd thing you collect? - Fabric. I have so much and I don't even use it. But when I see a nice fabric, I get it (if I have money). 

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? - 'Old Timer Rock and Roll' (probably not the name of it) always reminds me of my dad. One day we were driving in his Jeep, just us two, and I mentioned that I wasn't a fan of the music on the radio. We ended up compromising and that song was the first one on the radio station that we switched to. 

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? - I am unfortunately not up to date with the memes. Although the ones where it's like "you've mc-ed your last Donald" or "you've ratted your last tatouille" always make me exhale aggressively. 

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? - None of the above! I've been wanting to watch Heather's though. I just never get around to doing it. 

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? - My brother. Not the same one from before. 

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? - nothing, sorry. I'm not very dramatic. 

56: what are some things you find endearing in people? - when they pour their heart out about a certain subject that they love. I know a lot of people tend to bottle up their opinions but when someone trusts me aniugh to tell me all about it, it's just sorta nice. 

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? - I just sorta spaced out for the first have then did a little dance for the rest of it. I love the line "I see a little silhouetto of a man" and it's more upbeat and the music just makes me dance a little 

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? - bold of you to assume I have a group of friends 

59: what’s your favorite myth? - There's this one I heard as a kid that involves a faceless girl on the side of a highway who tries to steal faces. 

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? - I can't think of any off the top of my head, but poetry is nice! 

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received? - I don't really remember. I try to only give gifts that are meaningful. 

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? - nope! I usually drink milk! 

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? - I usually leave my music to its own devices, but all the books are organized by series and genre. 

64: what color is the sky where you are right now? - Blue! Just any other afternoon sky. 

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? - My older brother. We don't get to talk much. 

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? - Colorful, with a few white flowers! 

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? - Those are usually the days that I don't feel anything. 

68: what’s winter like where you live? - The weather is all over the place. A little snow, then the next day, it's like 60°F. Not even joking. It snowed Friday and Saturday was warm. 

69: what are your favorite board games? - Monopoly and Battleship! 

70: have you ever used a ouija board? - No, but I really want to. But my dad won't let me. 

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea? - I don't really drink tea, sorry! 

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it? - Nope. I'll forget it anyway. I usually set alarms for certain things but then I don't do it. 

73: what are some of your worst habits? - Biting the inside of my cheek and scratching/pinching my arm when I'm nervous. 

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. - kind, a good listener, talented, and understanding 

75: tell us about your pets! - We have four dogs. There's Emrys (the dog I've posted pictures of before), Cirilla (a husky German Shepard mix, very sweet), Cayde-6 (a Rottweiler mix I think, super energetic, loud, and steals food off the counter even when someone is watching), and Freyja (a German Shepard mix, puppy, also very sweet! She knows the phrase 'give hugs' and she always comes with me to take out the trash for whatever reason). I also have a Guinea Pig (who I want to get a friend for because she's lonely, but my parents keep saying no) names Neo. 

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? - Working on my Someconsious series, cleaning, and probably checking in with some friends. 

77: pink or yellow lemonade? - Pink 

78: are you in the minion hateclub or Fan club? - Hate club. I don't like them. They're just annoying and bright and their language is stupid to me. 

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? - One of my exes surprised me with a cars and roses out of nowhere. It wasn't Valentines Day, it wasn't my birthday, he just went out of his way to do something nice for me when I was having a rough week. 

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? - They're a sort of off white. I want to paint them light lavender or pale blue but my parents have only painted the living room and refuse to paint anywhere else for whatever reason. I know we can afford paint, I know we have time. They just stopped caring. 

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. - Not sure what it means by abstract, but I'll try. Her eyes are similar to the bottom of a small river. The brown in the middle with green rings on the edges remind me of a river I used to go fishing in back in Oklahoma. 

82: are/were you good in school? - I'm okay. I have all A's and B's, but I have easy subjects that aren't very hard. 

83: what’s some of your favorite album art? - I don't really listen to albums, my music taste is mostly individual songs. Even then I don't really pay attention to the art. 

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? - I want to get a quote of sort on my ankle. Something in another language so I can tell them it means something mysterious and deep when in reality it's the description of a toaster oven that hasn't been cleaned since 1995.

85: do you read comics? what are your faves? - I read a few webcomics if that counts! I like Castle Swimmer a lot! Gay fish bapeys are best fish bapeys. 

86: do you like concept albums? which ones? - I don't know what those are, sorry 

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? - The Princess Bride and the Last Unicorn. But I'm biased because they're both a part of my childhood. 

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? - not in particular! 

89: are you close to your parents? - I'm only close with my dad. My stepmom can go fuck herself. She just told us that's she'll be making a schedule for the next two weeks because there won't be school. One of the weeks was spring break anyway! We aren't missing much! 

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. - I like Palm Beach in Florida! It's fairly quiet, right next to the ocean, and filled with retired people who are all really nice. 

91: where do you plan on traveling this year? - Nowhere, we don't travel much. I really want to go to Florida again though. 

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? - I don't add cheese at all! It sort of ruins the texture for me. Especially the grated sprinkle cheese stuff l. I hate now it feels. 

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? - I just keep my hair down. I don't like it in any other way. 

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? - My brother. His birthday is today! 

95: what are your plans for this weekend? - cry a lot cry some more lose feelings for a few hours draw watch YouTube art videos then try not to yell at my mom like I did last week

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? - I just get it over with so I can do whatever needs to be done. Or I schedule it for when I'm not going to be using it. 

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? - INFP-T/Mediator, Scorpio, and Hufflepuff 

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?- A few weeks ago. And no, I did not enjoy it considering I was supposed to be working on an important project that day. 

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. - Where We Started, If You're Going Through Hell, and We Like to Numb (a mix of We Like to Party and Numb) 

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? - Future. In five years I plan on being in college and I want to see what I should be prepared for and if my interests have changed. 

This took me at least an hour and a half. Thank you though! I 

[ladyculebras]

ALL THE WAYS THE PET SEMATARY REMAKE IS BAD

SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY FOR EVERYTHING

1. This movie blames Rachel for EVERYTHING. This is the big main thing that bothers me throughout the film. Rachel is at fault, either directly or subtly, throughout the film.

First off, Rachel is the one who fears death so much she cannot bear to prepare her daughter for the possibility of Church dying, while the original actively had them trying to get Church fixed so he wouldn't wander around so much and thus, less likely to die. This wouldn't bother me so much, but LOUIS is the one who okay talking about death and wants to talk to Ellie about it and wants to not shield her from the truth that Church could die. This...ruins the whole narrative thrust. Louis is supposed to be fearful of death, shying away from exposing his family to it in any capacity, to the point where he avoid any kind of confrontation and causes the whole problem. Louis and his inability to handle death when it hits home is the whole POINT.

But furthermore, Rachel is the one who doesn't want to tell Ellie about Church dying! Louis WANTS to tell her but Rachel convinces him to tell her that Church ran away and tells him to go bury Church in secret. So inadvertently, it's all Rachel's fault. If Louis just talked to his daughter about death, and her dead cat, none of this would have happened. It completely removes accountability from Louis, when that is his whole tragic flaw.

Look this wouldn't bother me so much if Rachel were the main character instead. You want to make it her fault this happens, that's okay! But make her drive the story then! Don't do it as a way to absolve Louis of further responsibility!!!!!!

FURTHERMORE!!!! YES THERE'S MORE. After Ellie's death, Rachel is the one who decides to go away and leaves Louis behind...for reasons. Like yes I understand why she would want to get away from this awful place, but the movie completely cuts out the subplot of Rachel's parents hating Louis, so there is no reason for him not to go. But this also removes Louis actively conspiring to get Rachel to go away so he can go do a bad thing. It's a small thing but a really important thing that means Louis just doesn't come off as badly as he did in the original. The original movie is about grief but it's also about the folly of a man who is unable to let go or listen to anyone around him, and making terrible decisions that he hides from the female members of his family that ruins them all. It's so clearly obvious the male directors did not want Louis to look TOO BAD. Trying to remove accountability from Louis ruins the whole point and the tragedy as well. If Louis doesn't make these choices, if held held back from accepting death because his wife asked him too, how can this be his fault.

2. BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE ON RACHEL'S HANDS.

In the original, Rachel recounts her sister Zelda's death in a scene with Louis and explains that she wanted her to die and she felt awful for wanting that. Louis comforts her and tells her she did nothing wrong and her parents were awful for putting her through that. Then insists she takes a valium for her anxiety because LOLZ THE 80s AND CASUAL DRUG USE, MAN.

Here, she tells Louis the story but explains that she ACCIDENTALLY killed her sister, by forcing her sister--who can't get out of bed--to crawl to a dumbwaiter to get her food where she falls in, because Rachel was too scared.to go up to her and give her the food herself. Now, I don't have a problem with this, this doesn't make her a bad person in my eyes, but the change itself puts some responsibility on an EIGHT YEAR OLD KID for her sister's death in a way that the original movie and book didn't.

Then later, reanimated Ellie says YOU PRAYED YOUR SISTER WOULD DIE like it's an evil dark secret that she's revealing. AS IF THATS SOMETHING A EIGHT YEAR OLD NEEDS TO FEEL BAD ABOUT. AS IF THAT MAKES RACHEL ACTUALLY TERRIBLE.

God I hate this change the most because I adored the original for going there with the themes of grief and exploring all the ugly messy emotions involved in grief and not just dead children but prolonged illness. And demonizing those emotions for a cheap shocking reveal at the end is not dark and mature storytelling, its childish.

3. Also holy shit this movie mishandled Zelda so badly. They have Zelda straight up threaten Rachel and say she hated her and she was going to end up just like her. Her NEVER GET OUT OF BED AGAIN line is an actual threat to her. It was a weird demonization of an ill woman, when the original was already sketching the line in its portrayal of meningitis, but this was so much worse. Those words are manifestations of Rachel's anxiety!!! THEY ARE NOT ACTUAL THREATS. IT'S JUST RACHEL THINKING HER SISTER MUST HATE HER.

The whole scene is played for weird jack in the box jump scares instead of the existential horror of watching your sister be ravaged by disease when you are too young to understand what that is.

4. Ellie is this weird perfect angel child, and it bothers me. In the original story, she's scared of the pet sematary at first. She has a great speech about how Church is her cat, not God's cat, he can't have him! She cries and storms off and throws tantrums and says SHIT. She is a regular kid, basically. In the book, she actively annoys Louis! Here, she's just...boringly perfect. Everyone loves her. She never gets angry. She never cries. She doesn't even seem upset when Church attacks her. Jud is enchanted by her, literally saying he is under her spell, WTF. This wouldn't be so bad in general, bad writing for a child but not necessarily awful, but it bothers me the most here because it's all set up for when Ellie dies and comes back as a total monster. Ellie cannot actually be her own character but a pedestaled symbol of a child for Louis to cry over, and for the audience to feel horrified by when she returns as a shell of herself. At least when the original did that with Gage, it made sense, because he is a TODDLER and they have no real personalities. We as a whole tend to over idealize babies and the only thing you can really do with Gage narratively is make him a symbol.

5. Speaking of Zombie Ellie, I wanted to be open to the whole Ellie dies and comes back thing! I hated the idea of it initially but I was hoping it'd be interesting. I liked the beginning, with Ellie being set up as fascinated and drawn to the pet semetary to begin with, and I was kinda hoping the movie would follow her pov instead. After all, I love a good monster girl story and I was really intrigued by the idea of Ellie being AWARE she's been reanimated, and angry about it, upset about it. But tbh, I think the movie in general seemed to go with the idea that Ellie is not Ellie at all but the wendigo, acting through her.

But it was BAD, partly because the actress was not good--not her fault she was given poor direction and shitty material and she's just a KID--but also partly because these dudes just don't know how to write women and don't know how to write girls and didn't really grant the reanimated Ellie any actual humanity or depth. She existed to torment those around her, like she was seeking revenge, rather than coming back wrong as something monstrous like child Gage in the original. She came off as a generic creepy girl child who was possessed.

HONESTLY just having Ellie speak was a terrible idea. I sort of get what they were going for, after all,in the book, undead Gage speaks and knows things he should not know, and Elie as an avatar of...the wendigo *TAKE A FUCKING SHOT* would do the same, I get that they were doing that. But oh god the batman voice they gave her and the terrible lines sounded so OFF. She would have been creepier if she didn't say anything or at least, spoke in a regular little girl voice. It would have been creepier if she was clearly not Ellie and Louis didn't care--they kept going so back and forth on Louis in these scenes, first he is scared of what he brought back and uncomfortable with her and yelling at her, but then he is all HUG YOUR DAUGHTER!!!!!!! GOD CAN HAVE HIS OWN CHILD!!!!! And then he is back to wanting to kill her. But honestly, I don't need the movie to have done things my way, just...not this. This was terribly executed. 

6. Speaking of, they were doing some weird...psychosexual Elektra complex with undead Ellie and Louis. First the shot with both of them in the bed together is mirrored earlier with a shot of both Rachel and Louis in bed together....okay then. I mean. That doesn't mean anything. Maybe I am just misinterpreting. But then Ellie is like SHE DOESNT WANT ME HERE AND I DON'T WANT MOMMY HERE (but she still...reanimates her...for reasons. Why. I don't understand).

Then Ellie attacks Jud and wears the face of his WIFE TO DO IT and torments him like that.

Why. Why would you do this. I hate these writers. These are the worst choices.

7. THEY GAVE ELLIE'S PSYCHIC POWERS TO GAGE I'M SO ANGRY ABOUT THIS.

8. This movie legit single perfect tears Louis during Ellie's funeral. Are you kidding me. A single perfect tear. FOR REAL. THIS IS A MOVIE ABOUT GRIEF. 

9. A lot of the promo material before the movie came out made a big deal about staying truer to the book than the original and it being an adaptation of the book, not a remake of the movie. Sure, but they barely do anything with wendigo and I'm kinda glad, because the whole INDIAN BURIAL GROUND is a bad trope and King's depiction of the Wendigo is soooo wrong and misinformed and terrible but like..this movie didn't do anything with the mythology except name drop it.

10. I AM ACTUALLY MAD THEY MADE CHURCH EVIL. Like this is nitpicking I know but!  In the book, Church (and the reanimated dog) isn't actually evil, he's a zombie. Hes described as not quite how to be a cat anymore. And even in the movie, Church doesn't do anything sinister. He only attacks Louis and who could blame him, and he never hurts Ellie at all. She still sleeps with him in her bed. So I am honestly annoyed they had Church actively attack Ellie jklasfasda

11. Oh my god let's talk about Pascow. WHAT THE FUCK HAVE THEY DONE TO PASCOW. They completely neutered him and made him just a generic ghost, for the most part. Pascow is cheerful in the original, while also being creepy yet relatable. You can really emphasize with his sheer helplessness to stop the tragedy from unfolding. But none of that comes across here. Maybe they wanted to maintain the completely SERIOUS tone, but ultimately Pascow is supposed to be a soothing presence. He is there to remind people that death isn't evil and something that needs to be accepted. He isn't supposed to be there for jump scares, and then completely disappear for the most part.

12. Also the optics of casting a black man for Pascow , and then completely and grotesquely fucking up his face so bad his brains are exposed in his scenes...while Ellie also gets hit by a truck and she looks completely okay, like a perfect corpse angel is just. Gross and bad and racist and sexist ALL AT ONCE, AMAZING.

Like look, I don't WANT to see a mutilated gored up child, sure, but it's so shitty that both these characters get hit by trucks and the black man looks like....he got hit by a truck but the white child looks fine. She looks fine. Her head is stapled and her eyes are a little mismatched but fine.

13. THE EDITING IS SO BAD. It feels like they couldn't WAIT to get to the ending fast enough so scenes will literally smash cut to the next right in the middle of an action. There was a moment where Church is hissing and then it just CUTS immediately in the middle of hissing, he doesn't even get to finish hissing! Just cut to the next scene! There is no lingering on a moment to just process. Things just happen.

14. The story of Timothy, the person who was brought back one time, is just a footnote in this movie. It's barely relevant. That was a such a great creepy moment that underscored the whole movie and it's themes, and it's just gone.

15. Why is Jud so creepy. He literally looks at Louis and the family from a distance and ominously smokes a cigarette and he's so mysterious for no reason and even his first meeting with Ellie he yells at her and then is like WHAT, CAN'T YOU READ about the pet sematary sign. WHAT ARE THESE CHOICES. For a moment I thought Jud would be evil but no he's just weird and creepy for reasons? The movie sacrificed his and Louis' relationship to build one with him and Ellie, which is cute but also kinda bothers me because it's really to just make Ellie look like she is SO IMPORTANT TO JUD and that's why he tells Louis how to bring her cat back and it's…weird. Jud seems overinvested in the family and kids that aren't his rather than like,being friends with them all.

Jud is CHARMING. You fall in love with his kindly old man gentleman nature. He feels like everyone's grandpa. He is warm and delightful and it's such a shock and horror when he dies in such a brutal way. Trying to frame him in shadow with an ominous cigarette reduces the warmth of the character for no reason!

Furthermore, Jud's warmth is meant to obscure that he's ultimately rather weak himself, in character, just like Louis. He's not entirely at fault for the events but he cant help himself in telling Louis about burying church, rather than implying that the dark power is literally ensnaring him to make Louis do it jaksfsadfasdfa

16. LOUIS LITERALLY DRUGS JUD LIKE A DATE RAPIST WHAT THE FUCK

17. Guys, you can't just turn on a fog machine on your set and say you're an atmospheric movie. HAVING FOG IS NOT A SUBSTITUTE FOR GENUINE DREAD.

18. The ending is just bad. I REALLY WANTED TO LIKE zombie family but its filmed like for cheap shock, rather than genuine horror. I love dark endings, but it didn't feel like a tragedy the movie should be, it just felt like the hand of the writers were trying to do a different ending to say SEE THIS IS DIFFERENT! LOOK AT HOW DIFFERENT AND DARK WE ARE. I just...hate the whole framing. I love the idea of the whole family being reanimated but I CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHY. Ellie wanted to torture them like she is being tortured? That's a great concept but it's not really a thing in the movie. You can't tell if Zombie Rachel or Zombie Louis feel any kind of horror or torment at their own state, which undercuts the whole reanimation.

Ok in the interest of being fair, here are some things I liked.

1. I do genuinely love Ellie in this movie at the beginning. I liked the idea of her being drawn to the cemetery. I really liked the scene where Louis is giving her a bath and he sees the staples from the autopsy. I loved the bits when it was sort of suggested that even she didn't know why she was back and where she had gone and did not understand why she could feel the woods inside her. I wish we just expanded on that more.

2. Church. Church is great. Church is always great. Best cat, did no wrong. This movie did not kill the cat off for good, so that is a bonus.

3. There's a moment where Louis is trying to justify bring Ellie back to life and Rachel is just staring at him agog and horrified and Louis is wild eyed and shaking and it's the most terrifying moment in the movie for me. Not Ellie or the wendigo, but LOUIS, having completely lost it and not giving a shit that he has an undead monster daughter right now. SO GREAT. The movie undercuts it later by having him realize he ~needs to kill Ellie~ again and like...no, go full steam ahead with that.

4. SOME SHOTS LOOK GOOD I GUESS

In conclusion MEN ARE DUMB AND SHOULD NOT BE GIVEN WOMEN'S FILMS TO REMAKE

[sockablock]

• (start) (prev) (next) •

Chapter 9: Tinsel on the Awnings

“No, no,” said Caleb, reaching for his pencil. “You have to account for Reichden’s Law of Opposing Forces. Otherwise you will just make the lightning even worse. Here, the glyph should look like this.”

Fjord, on his stool across the library counter, sighed. “I knew there was something wrong. I guess I just couldn’t put my finger on it.”

Caleb hummed his agreement as he worked. “No offense meant, but I am surprised you would make this mistake. It is...Spellcasting 101, you might say. Did your teachers never show this to you before?”

“Er, no,” Fjord admitted. “But I’ve also never exactly taken a magic class before, so I guess it makes sense that I’d fuck up like this.”

“You’ve…” Caleb’s hand paused over the page. “You’ve never been taught this in a formal setting?”

Fjord shrugged. “Is that hard to believe? I mean, you know how shitty I am at this. You’ve watched me fuck up for two weeks, now.”

“Yes," Caleb blinked, "but…to be perfectly honest, I thought you would at least know the basics. After all, Fjord, I saw you do magic that night at the Moondrop. You have arcane capabilities, you cast spells that I could not even name.”

Something flickered behind Fjord's eyes, but he tamped it down quickly. “Well…yeah,” he said slowly. “But that’s, um…”

He sighed and leaned in, lowering his voice. “Caleb, I’ve never really talked about this before, not even with Jes. So, you’ve gotta promise me that you’ll be discrete, alright?”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Ja, okay. Sure.”

Fjord took a deep breath. “I, um…I’ve never actually learned magic before. And those spells you saw…I don’t think they were the wizardly kind—”

“—they certainly did not appear to be—”

“—right. So, what I’m saying is, I think my powers are...I didn't get 'em out of books. I just sorta…wish really hard for something to happen, and then it does. Is that, is that weird? Is that normal?”

Caleb suddenly burst into laughter, catching Fjord completely by surprise. “I just spilled my guts out there a bit,” he said with mild reproach. “Was there something funny about it?”

Caleb wiped at the corner of his eyes and shook his head. “Nein, no, well…maybe a little bit funny. Oh, you should have told me that in the first place! Now I understand.”

He met Fjord’s bewildered gaze and smiled faintly. “You are just a sorcerer, Fjord. There is nothing wrong with that. Your abilities are inborn, and natural to you.” Then he waved his hand dismissively over their notes, and the rough sketches of arcane symbols and circles across the pages. “You do not need any of this, my friend. You just need to practice your own skills. Mein gott, I cannot believe I was trying to teach magic to a sorcerer.”

Fjord found himself grinning as well, despite his confusion. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, uh…I didn’t realize there was somethin’ different about…uh…wait, are you sayin’ that your magic isn’t coming from you?”

“Oh, of course not,” Caleb chuckled. “I channel the raw arcana that exists in this world around us, in every living thing, in every thought and idea and emotion and et cetera. That is what all this chicken-scratch is,” he added, pointing at the notes. “But you get your magic from yourself. Whether it be because your ancestors were cursed, or blessed, or maybe one of them was a dragon, I don’t know, were your parents dragons, by any chance?”

Fjord’s smile faded slightly. “Uh…probably not,” he said. “I never, uh, knew them.”

Caleb’s jovial air immediately vanished. “Scheiss,” he said, “I am sorry. That was tasteless—”

Fjord shook his head. “No, no, don’t worry about it. But, uh…just checking, are those the only kinds of people who do magic? There aren’t, I dunno, there aren’t any individuals who just kind of picked it up along the way, or maybe they found something that granted them powers, or anything? It’s, it’s great to know I’m a sorcerer, that’s so cool, but you know, since we’re on the subject, is there anything…else?”

“Oh, ja, there are all sorts out there in the world. Warlocks, most of them, who tie themselves to unspeakable evils in exchange for a bit of power, sure.”

“Oh,” Fjord squeaked. “Uh…unspeakable evils, huh?”

Caleb shrugged. “Well, not always evil. Sometimes they’re gods, or they’re wandering spirits with nothing better to do. But I was always taught that more often than not, otherworldly patrons have otherworldly agendas that usually spell disaster. Then again, I was taught many things that today, I do not necessarily agree with.”

Caleb picked up his pencil again, and nodded to Fjord. “Now that we have established my uselessness as a magical tutor, then, perhaps we should spend the next hour on something else.”

“What?” Fjord asked, jolting out of his daze.

“What else do you need assistance with?” Caleb repeated. “Jester stopped by a few days ago asking about the Ratio Test, and your study guide says it will be on the final exam soon. Would you like to go over that?”

Fjord blinked, and then nodded quickly and reached for his math binder. “Yeah, yeah, sure,” he said. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

"How do you feel, so far? Do you understand it?"

Fjord rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Uh...actually, I kind of don't. Sorry, I really haven't had time to study lately, what with all the craziness at work, and everythin' that goes into moving apartments."

“No worries, I am here to help. That is what you are, under my protest, paying me for, yes?”

“Gods, Caleb, I’m not gonna extort free labor from you. Not even if you insist.”

“I told you, it was more than enough for you advertise my services to your classmates. I am fully booked for this week, Fjord! That is…truly, that is an incredible gift you have given me.”

Fjord grinned. “Don't thank me, thank reading week," he said. "But, I mean...yeah. Of course. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Caleb chuckled softly. “You know, Jester has been sneaking envelopes of cash into my bags before she leaves from her lessons as well, now. Do you…do you have anything to do with that?”

“I dunno,” Fjord said, though it sounded like he did. “It doesn’t ring a bell.”

Caleb snorted. “I still haven’t figured out what rate she is paying me,” he said. “Sometimes it looks like ten cents an hour, sometimes thirty dollars. Does she understand how much money is worth?”

Fjord sighed, and flipped open to his notes. “I’ve seen the size of her trust fund,” he said. “She hasn’t got a clue.”

“Well,” Caleb said, reaching for his own papers, “let us hope she never has to learn.”

•

At this time of year, the Pentamarket Square was in full holiday swing. Storefronts burst with gold and silver lights, tinsel glittered along the awnings, and colorful wreaths adorned their doors. The usual wide tents of the street vendors had been replaced with wooden booths, their four walls covered in more sparkling lights, and their space heaters spilling warmth over the open counters and into the brisk winter air. Children wrapped in parkas and woolen hats ran through the cobbled plaza, and young couples window-shopped hand-in-hand. Cheery music played from a number of outdoor speakers, and the smell of hot baked goods, wisps of cinnamon, sugar, and chocolate syrup, drifted up and over the crowd.

This was the Winter Market, and it would last up until the week after New Dawn.

Nott the Brave, skipping cheerfully through the crowd at knee-height, was here to take advantage of that. Her pockets were already rather heavier than they had been this morning.

But just as she spotted a particularly promising-looking old woman with a shiny polished cane, she heard something that made her stop dead in her tracks and look around wildly.

“—ah, you look like someone who’d like to know their future, how about it? No? Well then, how about you, miss? Yes, I can see you’ve got something very important happening soon! What’s that? Well, you’d have to sit down for a reading to find out, eh?”

Nott immediately abandoned her search for loose wallets and jewelry and began shoving her way through, weaving around legs and ducking under shopping bags, until she arrived at a tented stall selling warm apple cider.

Next to it, sitting cross-legged on a thick, navy-blue carpet, was none other than Mollymauk Tealeaf himself. He was wearing his full makeup, glittering eyeshadow and all, and had his crimson performer’s coat on. A white cardboard sign by his knee read, FORTUNES TOLD FOR GENEROUS TIPPERS, and he was shuffling a thick stack of blue-and-gold cards between his fingers as he beamed widely at passing shoppers, winked to small children, even tipped an imaginary hat to an old woman walking by.

And then he caught sight of Nott, her face poking out from behind a young couple’s shins. His eyebrows shot up, and he smirked all the way until she had finally managed to throw herself onto his carpet, the small rectangular island of peace in this sea of people.

“Well, well, well,” Molly grinned, setting his cards aside and gesturing for her to sit. “Look at what the cat dragged in! Nott the Brave, how are you, dear?”

Nott took the seat opposite him. “I’m fine, I guess, but what’s up with you? Why are you here?”

Molly shrugged. “It’s the holiday season, dear. No better time for attracting customers! Well, it’s not quite as good as Midsummer or Merryfrond’s Day, or Harvest’s Close, but it’s best you can do in the winter, eh?”

“Winter sucks,” Nott grumbled. “Aren’t you freezing, out here? Most people bundle up so much there’s nothing I can pickpocket.”

Molly snorted. “Is that why you’re here?” he asked.

Nott crossed her arms. “You can’t prove anything,” she said. “But seriously, isn’t it cold? You’re going to get sick.”

“I won’t,” he reassured her, “tieflings run hot.”

“You’re not running now. How is that supposed to help?”

Molly opened his mouth as if to respond, then paused, and sighed. “Nevermind, dear. But hey, since you’re already here, how about a reading? I’d be willing to do it free of charge, for a friend as delightful as you.”

Nott rubbed her chin. “Are we even friends? I mean, I know we hang out with the same people, I think, but the two of us have never exactly…bonded.”

Molly waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s make this our bonding experience, then! Let me read your fortune.”

She responded with a suspicious glare. “This isn’t your way of buttering me up because you want to get to Caleb, is it?”

Molly lowered his hand. “Of course not!” he said. “But, er, he hasn’t mentioned me at all, has he? It’s been a couple weeks but, uh, I was just curious,” he added hastily.

“Ha! I knew it.”

“Come on, Nott, you can’t blame me for just asking. Besides, I am genuinely invested in getting to know you, now. Jester likes you plenty, and Yasha seems to have taken a shine to you, and you insult Beau just as much as I do, so really, we’re just best friends waiting to happen.”

She eyed him over carefully. Then she sighed and nodded. “Alright, alright, performer boy—”

“—mmm, not boy.”

“Performer person?”

“That’s sort of better—”

“Performer fey-being?”

“...sure, alright. Yeah, let's go with that.”

Nott nodded and leaned in. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Molly deftly scooped his cards back up and began to toss them from hand to hand, effortlessly forming a gleaming bridge between his fingers. He laughed cheekily as Nott rolled her eyes at the extravagance of it all. Then he made a few more passes, flicked his wrist elegantly, and let three cards fall onto the carpet between them. They landed face-down, lined up evenly next to one another, and Nott genuinely couldn’t tell if that was dumb luck, or pure skill.

“Would you like to flip them over yourself?” he asked generously.

“Why?” she asked. “Is that part of the trick?”

Molly scoffed. “It’s not a trick. It’s fortune-telling.”

Nott raised her eyebrow. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

•

“Hey, Beau?” Jester asked, lowering her magazine. “I know I don’t usually ask about this kind of stuff, but…shouldn’t you be looking for a job?”

Beau, who had been furiously doing chin-ups on a rod jammed into the doorway leading into the living room, paused. Arms raised, bare feet brushing the ground, she gave Jester a suspicious look.

“Why’re you so interested, all of a sudden?” she asked. “You’re not worried about money, are you?”

“No, no,” Jester said, and set aside her issue of Iva’s Secrets. “Well, okay, kind of a little bit. But I’m worried about your money. What are you going to do when I move out? Are, are you going to, to find a super-rich roommate, or something?”

Beau dropped off the bar and sighed. “It’s sort of a long story, but I don’t really…I’m actually good, financially speaking.”

Jester blinked. “Good? What do you mean by that?”

“I just mean…it’s not a concern. I found a way to get cash.” She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. “It’s not even illegal, so don’t worry about that either.”

“You just found some way to make money like that, not illegally, where you don’t have to work for it?”

“Yup.”

Jester considered this. Then she reached for her magazine and nodded. “You should write an article or something about that for Iva. That sounds just like the sort of thing that she likes to put on the cover.”

“I’m really concerned about what that rag is teaching you, Jes.”

“I’m not.”

Beau snorted. “Fair enough,” she said. Then she added, under her breath, “It wouldn’t really work for everyone, anyways.”

•

“—and then I told him that his fortunes aren’t right, because I’ve never even owned that many swords before.”

Caleb paused in his whiteboard calculations, bit the end of his dry-erase marker, and stared at Nott. She was sitting at the edge of the kitchen table, swinging her legs off the side and peacefully decimating family-sized pack of chips.

“Are you…aware of how tarot cards work?” he asked slowly.

She waved a hand dismissively, sending Xtreme BBQ flavoring scattering through the ar. “Not really. But I also wasn’t paying too much attention, because while he was talking, I saw a woman passing by with some really nice buttons, so I was busy trying to Mage Hand them off of her.”

“Ah,” Caleb said weakly. “I see. And did you get those buttons that you wanted?”

She beamed, wiped her hand off, and fished around in her hoodie. She produced three glittering, gold baubles the size of her fingernails.

“Got ‘em. Look, look, they’re in the shapes of flowers, I think.”

Caleb did not in fact look very closely, but his slightly-weary, mildly-amused smile was good enough for Nott.

“How’s the accountant stuff going?” she asked after the buttons had been safely stowed back into her pockets. “Are we looking good for the month?”

“More than good,” Caleb grinned, and swiveled the whiteboard around for her to see. “We are looking the best that we ever had, spatz, thanks to Fjord and Jester for getting their classmates to hire me. Movie night tomorrow will go off without a hitch, I am sure. We even have money for extra pizzas! We can even go to a bookstore, can you imagine?”

“I can,” Nott said happily. “I can imagine it real well. Thanks, Caleb.”

He scoffed. “Do not thank me, I am just riding on a wave of good luck and kind people.”

“No, no,” Nott shook her head. “I meant, thanks for keeping me around. And for, um, buying me stuff, and letting me live here. And for not kicking me out even though you’re rich now.”

“I am not rich, far from it,” he laughed. “But…” he added in a more somber tone, “well, of course. Of course. It is a pleasure and an honor that you are my friend, and I wouldn’t exchange that for anything else.”

Nott cracked a small smile. “Thanks, Caleb,” she said. “I wouldn’t, either. Here, have some chips.”

After that lull in the conversation, he went back to checking over his math, then set on memorizing the contents of their budget. But just as the thought crossed his mind that, actually, I could just buy paper now to do this on, there was a loud cough from across the table. He looked up, and saw and Nott eyeing him over nervously, the snacks discarded at her side.

“Er…yes?” He blinked a few times. “Is everything alright?”

Nott sighed, and pulled out her phone. “That depends,” she said, and handed it over to Caleb. “That depends on whether or not you’d be willing to ask a specific purple bastard out for some more coffee.”

Caleb lowered his marker and frowned. “Er…what?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “When was the last time you spoke to Molly?” she asked. “Alone I mean, not at movie night. I know you don’t use your phone, and I bet you haven’t gone out together since.”

“Well, no,” Caleb frowned, “I have not. But…do I need to?”

“Didn’t you have fun on your last coffee-not-a-date?”

“Yes? I did?”

“So don’t you want to do it again?”

Caleb hesitated. He fidgeted with his marker. “No? Er…yes. Wait, no, that’s…” He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I had fun,” he said. “But that does not mean…that does not mean I want to ask Molly to do it once more. I mean, what reason would we even have to meet up? He does not have any of my possessions, at the moment, and I do not have any of his.”

Nott stared at him incredulously. “Caleb…you don’t need an excuse to see him.”

He bit his lip. “Yes, I do.”

“What? Why’s that?”

Caleb sighed, and put his forehead against the kitchen table. “I…I can’t just ask him. He’s probably busy, and probably has much better things to do.”

“Now, that’s just a lie,” Nott countered. “Both of us know pretty well that he’s been bored out of his mind ever since the Moondrop shut down.”

“Ja, alright, but he would probably be offended if I asked him to coffee out of pity.”

“But it’s not out of pity, it’s because you’re friends and you want to hang out!”

“Are we…friends?”

Nott leaned over, and prodded Caleb between the eyes. “You won’t be for long, if you keep avoiding him! Come on, it’s easy! Just pick up the phone, ask him if he’s busy. I don’t know why you’re so freaked out.”

Caleb considered this. He thought about telling the truth, telling Nott that he couldn’t do it, that he was afraid to ask, that if he initiated things, then he would be acknowledging his own feelings, that he would be indulging in something he shouldn’t, that he would be making things real, that he didn’t deserve this happiness, and that worst of all, above everything else, he would be betraying her—

But then he thought about how much he didn’t want to say any of that. He thought about how excited Nott was for him, how supportive she had become, and really, how nervous and excited and elated he felt at the prospect of seeing…

Caleb sighed, and reached for Nott’s cell phone.

“Fine, fine. But you’re going to help me compose the message, spatz. I…I really don’t remember how to do this sort of thing.”

Nott grinned. “Oh, I know exactly what to do! I’ve been reading that magazine Jester showed me, ever since you got back from the last date."

“You’ve-wait, what?”

“Shhh. Don’t worry about it. Okay now, type this out—”

•

Today 6:22PM

Nott TB: good evening Mister Mollymauk Nott TB: it has been some time since we last spoke Nott TB: how are you doing? Molly Tealeaf: … Molly Tealeaf: nott what the fuck Molly Tealeaf: I just saw you today Molly Tealeaf: why are you talking like that

Molly, sprawled across his bed and back in his silk pajamas—at six in the evening, no less—watched the tiny dots appear at the bottom of his phone. He had a glass of wine in one hand, and an appropriately bewildered expression across his face.

Nott TB: schmid Nott TB: *scheiss Nott TB: I am so sorry this is Caleb, actually Nott TB: sorry

Molly spat his wine out. He practically threw the glass onto the nightstand in an effort to free both his thumbs.

Molly Tealeaf: CALEB Molly Tealeaf: GODS I THOUGHT THIS WAS NOTT Molly Tealeaf: CALEB???

There was a brief pause. And then the words:

Nott TB: yes, caleb Nott TB: Caleb Widogast? We went on that double date once Nott TB: and we fought a really big toad together a couple weeks ago Nott TB: I think you told nott a fortune this morning, I am her roommate

Molly snorted, and shook his head.

Molly Tealeaf: yes yes dear I know who you are! Molly Tealeaf: I was just surprised!! Molly Tealeaf: I didn’t think you knew how to text

Another pause.

Nott TB: nott says that youre joking and also that this is a common theme in our group chats Molly Tealeaf: shes absolutely correct Molly Tealeaf: now, how have YOU been? and how can I help you?’

Molly was not too proud to admit that he waited, with baited breath, for the answer.

Nott TB: oh Nott TB: actually I have been well Nott TB: and I was wondering Nott TB: if you were free any time this week? Nott TB: id like to get some coffee together, if you also would Nott TB: my treat this time

Molly felt his soul burst into song.

Molly Tealeaf: that sounds lovely!! Molly Tealeaf: and I would never say no to such a gentleman Molly Tealeaf: Wednesday or Thursday works for me! Nott TB: thursday it is

Then there was a long pause, and the “…” icon appeared on the screen for almost a minute, before one last text came through.

Nott TB: I have missed spending time with you Nott TB: see you then.

Then this was followed by another message.

Nott TB: im back Nott TB: I hope your happy Nott TB: im deleting this conversation off my phone

Molly rolled his eyes, and waited a few more beats, just in case there was more on the way. When nothing else happened, he sighed deeply, screenshotted the entire exchange—for posterity’s sake. Then got up and waltzed out into the kitchen for more wine.

As he closed the refrigerator door, his eye caught the calendar that Fjord had hung up ten months ago. They had used it for about a week, before promptly abandoning it in favor of never knowing what day it was.

He flipped all the way to the last page, and found at this coming Thursday.

Soon.

•

“Oh, but then he confesses his love for her!” Jester sighed, leaning flush against the brick wall behind their building and pressing a hand to her forehead. “He tells her that no matter what, he would stay true to her forever, and then she starts crying because no man has ever been that open and loving to her in her entire life!”

“Uh-huh,” Beau mumbled. She was only half-listening to Jester’s account of Guard of My Heart, instead directing most of her energy towards trying to open the lid of the dumpster—which had sealed itself shut with a thin layer of frozen trash slime—as fast as possible, so they could get back inside. The weather forecast had predicted heavy snowfall tonight.

“But then in the second act, her family finds out about it!” Jester continued. “And of course they don’t approve, she’s a high-ranking member of the Crownsguard! And he’s only a lowly butler, but they’re so in love, and—”

“Uh-huh,” Beau muttered. She had almost lost her thumb to jagged ice, and was now trying to figure out a different angle of attack.

“Beau, are you even listening?” Jester asked, crossing her arms. “You just cut me off.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Maybe if she wedged a stick under the hinges, yes, that could work—

“Beau! Beauuuuuu, are you sure you’re listening?”

“Yeah, yeah, Jester, their…families suck?”

“Oh. Oh, you were paying attention! Right, okay, so, basically what happens next is that her dad forces him to a duel for her favor, and the conditions are that he has to duel a member of their family. And that sucks, because all of them are such badasses, you know? But then, oh my gosh, I didn’t even see this coming, she’s also in the family! And so now it’s two lovers forced to fight, one to prove his love and one to defend hers, and…”

Beau finally gave up, and took a deep breath, and slammed her shoulder as hard as she could into the tiny gap between the top of the lid and the dumpster itself. It flew open, leaving a rank trail of festering garbage-stink through the air as it went, and Beau was so relieved that she almost immediately threw the trash bag over the edge to call it a day.

But she didn’t.

Which was fortunate, because if not for that split second of hesitation, if not for the quick pause she had afforded this errand, Beau would have completely missed the tiny black bundle huddled in the corner of the bin, draped in dirty, wet fabric, and shivering in the cold.

She dropped the garbage bag onto the pavement. She threw her face closer to take a better look, ignoring the smell.

“What’s wrong?” Jester asked, and joined her at the edge of the dumpster. “What is it?”

“Do you see that?” Beau asked. “I…I can’t really see in the dark, but…there’s something in here? I think it’s moving?”

Jester peered in. “Ugh, it's so gross, what are—”

Her eyes, glowing a faint purple and built for low light, immediately latched on to what Beau was talking about.

“Oh, shit,” Jester breathed. “Oh my gods, what should we do?”

•

TUSK LOVE 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO Today 7:09PM

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: heyyyyyyyyyy guys? (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: uh (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: I think maybe whoever is free right now might want to come over (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: beau and i sort of found something???? (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: and we need a little help Lavender Thunder: of course, I’ll come now Lavender Thunder: what kind of help? NottSoBrave: and what kind of something??? Seaman: fuck, im at work Jes Seaman: is everything alright? Drunkmonk: we're fine but like Drunkmonk: just Dunkmonk: you have to come and see alright? we don’t know what the fuck to do NottSoBrave: caleb says “don’t worry” NottSoBrave: caleb says “we’re on the way”

Today 7:14PM

NottSoBrave: caleb says “help we don’t have a car” DrunkMonk: good gods Lavender Thunder: im stealing Fjord’s station wagon, i’ll get you two NottSoBrave: caleb says “tell Molly I said thanks” Lavender Thunder: (o^-')b Lavender Thunder: be there in a flash

• • •

💚 ☕ ☕ 💚

[chogiwank]

Milkshake Boy - Art Student!Renjun AU [Part 1]

part 2

Pairing: Art Student!Renjun x Art Student!Female Reader

Summary: Y/N is new in town and works at an Arts Shop which old ladies, teachers and parents picking up supplies for their children mostly visit, and a cute boy who comes by everyday. Having an accidental encounter with the boy they develop a friendship and a love with milkshakes, art and of course each other. Because what is even a love story if they don’t fall for each other with cheesy shit involved

A/N: this story is requested but also inspired by a couple of prompts I came upon therefore not exactly an original plot I suppose but original story !! [part 2 posted] - Doyoung’s Darling

New York is such a beautiful place to live in, especially during the winter time. The snowfalls, the city lights at night of yellow and during Christmas the red and greens. I study at NY Arts School at the end of my sophomore year as a visual arts major. We were considered one of the least popular, the dance majors being the most. We weren’t really seen as much - what can you even do as a visual art major? Is what everyone asked. No one really cared to know for the history of art, Picasso, Monet, Da Vinci. No one really wanted to know what art really was, or why we even loved it. We were considered sort of outcasts despite it being an art school, such irony right? No one here realized art was a way to have colour in our lives, a way to speak with pictures without having to say a single word. It was a way to figure out how others minds work with their interpretation of pieces. It’s a way to make essentials and decoratives which existed in our daily lives; plates and utensils, carpets, blankets, many many things which art was discredited for.

Outside of school, I worked a job as a barista at this cafe, three to five hours for the weekend and then head to the library to study. My parents- well my mother works a job as an English teacher. My father passed away two years ago, I never got much time with him due to him being overseas for his job, he was a good man and we both loved him very much - but unfortunately, his kidney’s gave out on him and couldn’t live a full time with us. Hey, that’s life right? Mystery and questions of will tomorrow come or not, it’s unsolved until it actually happens.

Without having many friends because of my hectic life after the death of my father, my weekend jobs to help out my mother and studying until 2AM in the mornings, life in New York was still really nice. I didn’t mind it, and I wouldn’t change it for anything - that was until my mother got a job offer overseas, to teach abroad in Korea. Yeah, Korea, that’s a huge change, right? Moving from New York to Korea, a massive culture shock, especially right before my junior year of high school. Although I had no choice, being a minor I wasn’t allowed to live alone, the only family I had left was my grandparents from my father and mother’s side. Mother’s lived in Canada, the land of freezing cold winters and sometimes even snow in May. Now don’t get me wrong, I love my winters but snow in spring? I’m not even kidding guys there was deadass snow in May and I was crying my ass lives in Canada and I’m not even surprised I JUST WANT MY WARMTH Really, I’m fine with winter it’s a beautiful season but I prefer my winters to stay in December and I like my warmth during spring and summer. So that was not happening anytime soon. Then there was the option of my grandparents from my father’s side but they lived overseas in Korea - so at this point, there was really no option I had to leave New York, I had to leave NYA behind and start a completely new life. Live in a foreign country where I wouldn’t know anyone besides family and I had to work on speaking a whole new language. See, I know bits of Korean and I can understand it - thanks to my father being Korean, but I suck at speaking it. Now, of course, my mother and I looked into it to get me into an international school so it’d be easier for me to adjust, but I still felt unease. Everything would be so different, totally new people, teachers, school a whole new country. I’m not the best at change but...for this I had no choice, it was for my mother, the sake of her job and our living.

And so here I am in Seoul city the capital of South Korea.

I arrived here in early June, around the time school was ending for Korean students. My mother and I were provided with a small studio in the city, acquired transit passes and I surprisingly ended up with a job. It wasn’t much I just got to work in an Arts Shop as a cashier, for the time being before school begun once again in August, it was weird because school for me usually started in September, but I guess that’s the beauty of culture change, adjusting to new routines and lifestyles. Of course, my grandparents gave us some money to last until second month’s rent and invited us over for dinners to help us save some before mother started her work.

The owner of the Arts Shop was very kind, an old man who sat behind a counter every day reading the newspaper and always had a bright smile talking to customers, and currently I was in his position - without the smile. I was spending five hours of my vacation days in a foreign country behind a counter of a shop which old ladies, teachers and parents visited. There were the rays of the bright sun which shone into the store, lighting it up during the day and bringing in heat. The air conditioning wasn’t available so I was left to cool down with any paper or book I could fan myself with, it wasn’t very useful but the best I could do.

“Excuse me, I have a quick question.” A boy came up to the counter with a bright smile. He had dyed blonde hair covering his forehead, round glasses and a yellow t-shirt. His eyes a shade of brown, chocolate-coloured if I must say, sort of hazel with the sunlight on his features.

“Excuse me?” He waved a hand in front of my face, knocking me out my trance.

“Oh yes, sorry.” I shifted my gaze to the counter top in embarrassment. Was I staring? I can’t be, oh boy he probably thinks I’m a creep. “How may I help you?”

“Well there’s two things, first do you have any of these paints?”

I examined the empty bottle of paint he placed on the counter. “Ah, asianpaint’s oil paint. That should be in soon, just not in stock today sorry to dissapoint.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Second question?”

“Any idea when they’ll be in?” He anticipated.

“Possibly in a week, but that’s if they don’t get held up somewhere in transport.”

“Oh alright, well thank you.” He bowed, grabbing his empty paint bottle stuffing it into his backpack and walking out the door.

Now, that boy I’ve been seeing him every day since I’ve started working, which wasn’t really that long ago, maybe it had been just one week? I see him every day in the same spot, he’ll come around during the evening and sketch in his book while drinking a milkshake, strawberry I think? I caught myself waiting for him to show up each time. In fact, I started to realize how cute he actually was- if only I had socialist abilities but I don’t think they’ll be out any time soon.

The next day passed by as the same old routine: wake up, eat breakfast, mother and I would head out to my grandparent’s to check in, then at 3:00PM I’d be here to work until 6:00 or 8:00 you know depending on how exhausted I was. I would then head home to eat dinner and then sleep. The next day would just be a repeat of the previous one. Today was just like any other, except with a slight change - the manager asked me to come in a little late to close up shop since he had other duties to attend to early and so I accepted. I walked in at about 6:00 and closed up shop around 9:00 it wasn’t that busy considering many people would be having dinner between this time and so no one came in, giving me the opportunity to sit down and play games on my phone, scroll through Instagram and such.

As the clock hit 9 I began to check around the shop to make sure everything was okay, I locked the entrance door and walked out from the exit. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the chance to meet with the cute milkshake boy who would always sketch. It was a bummer really but, lately, he’s been talking to me, nothing too big just little conversations of ‘how was your day’ ‘have you been well’ and little jokes here and there. It was quite nice actually, made me feel like I was being accepted.

As I started to walk away I turned the corner bumping into someone, falling backwards with a hard hit to my tailbone and smashing my head on the ground. I groaned from the pain and my eyes squeezed shut feeling a weight on top of me. I sat up as I felt the weight of the stranger lift off me, speaking incoherent apologies and ‘I should’ve looked where I was going’. My brain adjusted my vision from the hard fall to the night lights, fixing the blurred face of the stranger. My eyes grew wide from the surprise of who the stranger was, I swear they almost popped out of their sockets.

“Milkshake boy,” I said as I groaned, the back of my head throbbing from pain.

“Are you okay?” He asked in concern, rubbing his elbow as it bled due to the scratches from the concrete. “Can you see how many fingers there are?” He waved three fingers in front of my face.

“Three.” I hissed rubbing the back of my head. He let out a sigh of relief and stood up helping me get on my feet as well. Losing my balance I let out a yelp as I began to fall once again, the boy’s arm wrapping around my waist to keep me up. Looking up, I thanked him for preventing a second fall, eventually making eye contact I giggled at our position - a dip with his arm around my waist and our faces close to our noses barely brushing each other- confusing the boy at my abrupt laughter he furrowed his eyebrows until he came to realize how we stood and our closeness. He blushed, his cheeks turning a tint of pink helping me up to stand on my own. his gaze shifted to the ground as he fiddled with his thumbs from the embarrassment.

I cleared my throat to speak breaking the awkward atmosphere,

“you’re milkshake boy, right?”

“w-what?” He looked up with wide eyes. “is that how you acknowledge me? Milkshake boy?”

“Uh yeah, kind of - you never really told me your name.”

“Oh...” he trailed off from the realization, “Sorry, my name’s Renjun.” he extended his arm for a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N” I smiled. “Still prefer calling you milkshake boy though, it works better.”

“Well if you’re going to be calling me that...” he scrunched his nose, placing a hand on his chin in thought. “I might as well keep calling you counter girl.”

“counter girl?” I questioned. “is that the best you came up with?”

“the most decent one.” he corrected. “there was also Arts Shop girl, cute counter girl-”

“cute?” I raised a brow from his confession.

“w-what- oh!” Renjun panicked from his accidental slip up. “no, no! I meant like uh..well it didn’t work that well.”

“So you don’t think I’m cute?” I teased.

“no, no that's not it I-”

“I’m joking!” I laughed. “Loosen up a little.” Renjun rubbed the back of his neck as his face got a darker shade of pink from his continued embarrassment. He was really adorable from afar, but boy was he even cuter red-faced, and when his nose scrunched up, oh boy. I think my heart melted.

“What are you doing here so late?” Renjun questioned. “Don’t you usually come in the afternoons?”

“Oh, so you stalk me now?” I teased, making Renjun flush as he denied. “Wow, you really do blush easily.”

“What, no I don't!” Renjun said flustered. “I just- it’s cold.”

“Yeah, it’s cold in 18 degrees Celsius and that's why you’re constantly red not because of every time I tease you,” I smirked. Renjun gave a stern nod crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s right.”

“Whatever you say milkshake boy.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I have to be getting home now-”

“What? Alone at night?”

“Well yeah, what about it?” I tilted my head to the side.

“It’s just so late.” Renjun said concerned. “What if anything happens to you? You shouldn’t be out alone this time of night.”

“How do I know you won’t murder me?” I crossed my arms over my chest, teasingly cocking up an eyebrow.

“I would rather not be someone suspected for murder,” Renjun laughed. “Plus I’d probably get kicked out of my art program.”

“Art program?” I questioned. “You’re in an art program?”

“Yeah, don’t be teasing me or any-“

“No, no! That’s really cool, I used to be in one.” I exclaimed. “I love art so much, it’s one of my greatest passions.”

“Really? Why aren’t you in it anymore?” Renjun asked.

“I used to live in New York with my mom, then we moved to Korea because she got a really good job offer.” I smiled.

“Oh I see, New York yeah? Is the cheese cake as good as they say?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I chuckled. “I never really liked cheese cake.”

“Whoa really? Anything you did like?”

“Hotdogs actually, I ate them everyday after school - I kind of got sick of them at one point so I ended up switching between fries and hotdogs.”

“Understandable,” Renjun laughed. Gosh, his laugh was so pleasing, it could probably calm tsunamis and gather animals around him like in fairy tales when the Princesses sing - his laugh was a perfect melody. “My sister should be here to pick me up soon, let me give you a ride.” He offered.

“What? No, I couldn’t let you do that, we just met.”

“Come on, please?” Renjun pout. “It’s either you let me drive you or you give me your number so I can check up on you to make sure you got home safe.”

“Oh,” I blushed looking down at my feet. Did he just ask for my number?

“I’d probably have nightmares if I found out I let you walk alone and someone murdered you.” He grabbed my arm. “Let me drop you home.”

I nodded my head, “102 Jeongu, I live up in the apartment.” My face was still flushed and god it was so embarrassing, a few minutes ago I was literally teasing him for getting flustered easily and now the tables have turned. He smiled as I told him my address turning around to the street as a bright light shone on us.

“Noona!” He said heading over to the car. He opened the door signaling me in. I shyly greeted his sister as he introduced us and drove me home. I felt sort of bad though, I didn’t even know where his house was, what if it was on the completely opposite end? Gosh that would fill me up with so much guilt but I was thankful for the ride as it saved my legs from the pain of walking 30 minutes and the possible dangers of the night - you know the possibility of me getting murdered or kidnapped by someone, which I doubt but not really impossible. In all honesty, I hated the dark anyways, it’s childish but I’ve always been scared of it I don’t know why? I’ve just never been comfortable enough to be alone surrounded by pitch black. Possibly the outcome of all the horror movies I’ve watched.

Arriving at the apartment doors I thanked them and asked if they would like something in return for the favour, both denying for the return of anything.

“It was our pleasure,” Renjun’s sister warmly smiled.

“Just stay safe, okay?” Renjun flashed a bright smile waving as they drove off.

I walked to my apartment and greeted my mother who sat on the couch reading a People’s Magazine. Wishing her a goodnight I got myself ready for bed, my mind playing out the encounter with milkshake boy as we stood close our noses almost brushing each other’s. Should I have kissed him? No, wait wait that’s wrong - I’d come off too strong and probably drove him away. I really wouldn’t mind kissing him, his lips were so pretty and pink, they seemed soft so perfect to attach mine to. Maybe one day, I sighed. One day, as long as he’s not a douche - please don’t be a douche, uh what was his name again? Renjun? Yeah, Renjun. And so, I drifted off to sleep after the surprise event of today hoping tomorrow to be another.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this!! Please feel free to DM or comment below your thoughts and send in requests if you wish!! I’ll be making a part 2 as long as this post gets let’s say uhhh 30+ notes likes and such !! <3 take care of yourselves,, lovelies!! - Doyoung’s Darling [PART 2 HAS BEEN POSTED LINK ABOVE!!]

[theliterateape]

From the Archives: Unpacking Branson: A Thanksgiving Improbability

By Don Hall

For Thanksgiving in 2012, I was single and Mom decided that I should come out to my step-sister's place in Branson, Missouri for a good old-fashioned country Thanksgiving. The carrot was family. The stick was Missouri.

In the late 1960s it was pretty much a tiny city in the Ozarks known for roadside stands peddling wares that proliferated the hillbilly stereotype. And, sure enough, there are still today roadside stands that exist only to continue to make fun of that stereotype. It's an odd thing to walk into a business in the middle of the Ozarks that sells you the stereotype it tries to escape from. Like buying a taxi cab medallion from an East Indian store or an “I’m a Wetback” T-shirt in a store that sells Mexican merchandise.

It is said you cannot judge a book by its cover.

This is true most of the time, but there are some things you can judge immediately by its cover and pretty much know what your getting.

An Ann Coulter book. Sean Hannity. A FOX News broadcast. Great America. Applebee's.

I assumed that Branson, Missouri would fall into this latter category. I was right and wrong. And the complexities made it a real trip to remember.

Branson is where the Beverly Hillbillies came from before moving to California.

A winding series of roads littered with signs and theaters and restaurants. Lots of bumper stickers that declare “I’d Rather Be Dead Than SOCIALIST” and random tributes to past GOP glory. In the three days we trucked around the city, I counted perhaps one hundred people of color the entire time — I didn't start the trip by calculating this but after a bit, it was hard to escape. Thousands of old white people with canes and wheelchairs abounded but that doesn't really look that much different than Navy Pier or the audience at Chicago Shakes — old white people like to be tourists and Branson is, after all, a haven of tourism.

My step-sister, Hannah, tells me that the crack business booms among the residents of Branson and there is evidence around if you’re looking for it. The place is slightly schizophrenic in its place as a home to rednecks and hillbillies while trying desperately to distance itself from that by appealing to the tourist trade. There are places that stink of what one expects in Ozarks — a biker bar called the Hawg Trough that even my pro-GOP brother-in-law avoids and a Smoke Shop that doesn't sell cigarettes and has a pit bull guarding the door. But there are surprises that popped up during my three-day Thanksgiving vacation that defied my pre-judged expectations.

The surprises came in weird ways. When I arrived, we ate at a place called the Rowdy Beaver — a place with T-shirts that trumpeted “I Like Bald Beaver” and “That's A Mighty Nice Beaver” and had washboard walls. The thing that surprised was that the food was out of this world. It was delicious and well prepared and not at all what I expected. “Our chef prepares everything from fresh ingredients,” trumpeted our waitress who seemed completely fine with her job at a place filled with such juvenile innuendo.

The Hollywood Wax Museum was fun but the wax figures left me a bit wanting — a frequent refrain of our visit was my niece saying “Who's that?” and me doing my best to figure it out. I tried to convince my family to go to Silver Dollar City so I could find and steal a urinal cake but it was $60 per person and even I couldn't argue that $300 was reasonable for me to complete a toilet cookie tale. We had tickets to a magic show billed as the World's Largest (by the way, every attraction in Branson is billed as “Show of the Year,” “The Most Amazing in the World,” and “Mindblowing”) but the show was cancelled due to illness. Turns out Kirby VanBurch’s greatest trick is to take your money and disappear.

Our replacement show for the afternoon was going to be either Jim Stafford (I desperately wanted to see this) or SIX (the nieces had heard it was awesome). Stafford only did an 8 p.m. show, so SIX at the Mickey Gilley Theater it was.

SIX is six middle-aged brothers who debuted on the Donnie and Marie Show and have fashioned themselves as sort of an older version of an a cappella boy band. As soon as they started with a cheeseball version of Don’t Stop Believin’, Hannah and I turned to each other with a look of pained resignation. These guys had pretty good voices and the arrangements were fine but the self-consciously hip pose and cornball attempts at cool banter was unbearable. I learned that wanting to see an awful Branson show and actually sitting through one are two different things. I also learned that I will never, as a middle-aged white guy, ever use the words “homie” or “peeps” ever again. To be fair, the second act was better — a selection of Christmas songs and a tribute to their dead mother. Apparently this tiny woman had ten children, all boys, and I suspect she isn't dead but just got the fuck out of there before having to bear an eleventh kid. But the damage of the first act left me scarred and a little terrified of that evening’s show — Legends at the Dick Clark American Bandstand Theater.

Legends is a show that debuted in Vegas and moved to Branson. It is a rotating cast of celebrity impersonators ranging from Barry White, Marilynn Monroe and Tim McGraw to the staples of Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson. Our bill was George Strait, Whitney Houston, the Blues Brothers, Liberace and Elvis. As we entered and sat down, once again surrounded by octogenarians, I steeled myself. This was going to be fucking awful.

And it wasn’t.

Really. In fact, it was a blast. The Whitney Houston knocked it out of the park, Liberace was funny but completely inappropriate in a callback to the dark days of The Gay Closet and the Elvis impersonator was so fucking good, if we had been sitting in the nose bleeds it would’ve been like actually seeing Elvis live. My mom, a huge Elvis fan from when he was alive, commented that he was the best Elvis impersonator she had ever seen. Hell, even my teenaged nieces enjoyed the show.

But we saved the best, most Branson-y show for Saturday. Yakov Smirnoff. Holy shit. I couldn’t wait. I was absolutely certain it would embody everything I expected Branson to be — cheesy, cloying, the very portrait of a has-been celebrity stretching out his 15 minutes of fame as paper thin as he could in the heart of the Vegas of the Ozarks. We were greeted by a giant Yakov head making awful jokes about... the size of his head! Inside, it turned out that Yakov was a painter and had his paintings for sale!

The beginning of the show was the longest version of the national anthem I’ve ever heard (who know there were, like, nine verses?) and then I was hit with another fucking surprise. On the video screens came an old Paul Harvey “The Rest of the Story” about a painter known as Jacob who painted and commissioned a painting in tribute to the fallen at Ground Zero in NYC following the Attacks of 9/11.  Painted on the side of a building overlooking the rubble, it was the backdrop to the first anniversary of the attacks. The painter was an anonymous Yakov Smirnoff. He paid for the commission out of his own pocket.

Some of his show was what I expected: a revisitation of his “What a Country!” schtick from the ’80s—a sketch of him as the president answering questions from the audience, and he actually quoted the Lee Greenwood God Bless the U.S.A. as a closer. But other parts were not at all what I anticipated. Turns out that Yakov went out and got a Master's Degree in psychology and decided that his show could also serve as a relationship counseling session as well. Sort of like Defending the Caveman meets a less arrogant Dr. Phill with the takeaway being that we begin relationships laughing and giving each other little gifts and that, if we simply return to giving each other gifts and finding laughter in our relationships, we’ll be happier, healthier people.

Was it a great show? Not really. The dancers were cheesy and only there to fill time, the jokes were funny in a “Yeah, I remember that one” sort of way, the political stuff was tame (although at one point, Yakov asked the audience who was happy with the results of the latest election — a smattering of applause that included my mother and I enthusiastically cheering — and who was ticked off by it — a thundering, slightly ugly ovation — with the Russian comic commenting “Yeah, that's about even...”) and the recurring pro-America stuff was hard to hear after a while. But the thing is... I liked him.

I mean, I really liked the guy. He was so overwhelmingly sincere and genuine. Christ, I wanted to hug him. And, while his show is corny and inoffensive and gentle and perfect for the Branson tourist crowd, this is a guy who lives in Branson, Missouri suggesting that people spend time laughing and loving one another instead of being shitbags.

Prejudice is a funny thing. Judging books by their covers is what we do as people. I imagine it’s a hard drive instinct. But, as I am often heard saying, while we are all unique and precious snowflakes and each of us is completely distinct, we are all made of fucking snow. We all are simply people trying our best to get along in the world. Yes, that means that our baser, uglier instincts come to play like ordinary people rioting in a Walmart on Black Friday to get a discount on a portable DVD player. It also means that our better, more generous nature comes into play, and sometimes it's nice to be reminded that even in Red State Hell, Yakov Smirnoff is telling thousands of people every week to just be fucking nicer to each other.

On Thanksgiving, the point is to be with friends or family and celebrate those things in our lives we are (or should be) thankful for. Sure, the holiday is laden with cultural markers that include the genocide of the Native Americans and our national quest to bequeath every American with diabetes but the point is gratitude. Gratitude can come from a lot of places and I’m thankful to remember the lessons I learned in Branson. 

[aion-rsa]

Best Returning British TV Shows from 2020

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2020 brought many things with it. Brexit. Another iPhone. The 30th anniversary of Fresh Prince Of Bel Air. A Crackerjack revival, the increasingly critical state of our burning planet, the inauguration of a Gangsta Granny rollercoaster at Thorpe Park, and a global pandemic that shut down life as we know it.

A mixed bag, all told.

One thing you can largely rely on in worrying times is television, and below are the top returning British shows that fought their way through the Covid-19 lockdown to come back in 2020.

After Life series 2

Release date: Friday 24th of April, Netflix

Ricky Gervais’ emotional Netflix comedy about a misanthrope widower (Gervais) struggling to cope after the death of his wife (Kerry Godliman) will return for a second six-episode run. Filming began in September 2019, and it arrived on Netflix in April. Diane Morgan and Mandeep Dhillon co-star.

Read more:the best stand-up specials on Netflix here.

Blood series 2

Release date: Monday 27th April, 9pm, Channel 5

2018 welcomed the arrival of Sophie Petzal’s award-winning Irish domestic thriller Blood, which starred Line Of Duty‘s Adrian Dunbar as a widower under suspicion when his estranged daughter Cat (Carolina Main) returns to the family fold. It was tightly scripted with a great cast and told a satisfying and emotional story. Read our interview with its creator here. Over in Ireland, Virgin Media One aired the second series in February 2020, and it’s available on-demand on My5 in the UK here.

Brassic series 2

Release date: Thursday 7th May, Sky One

Shameless’ Danny Brocklehurst and This Is England’s Joe Gilgun worked together on rambunctious Sky comedy Brassic, which is inspired by Gilgun’s own misadventures as an errant youth trying to make a few quid. Michelle Keegan and Damien Molony co-star. NOW TV subscribers can watch the first series here.

Read more: the British comedies on their way this year.

Call The Midwife series 10

No, we don’t have much call to talk about it here on Den Of Geek, but Heidi Thomas’ Call The Midwife remains a terrifically warm British drama with a spine of steel when it comes to standing up for the NHS and wading (often literally) through the blood-soaked reality of life for women and children. Series nine finished airing on Sunday nights on BBC One in February, and it’s already been renewed for a 10th and 11th series, taking it into 2022.

Read more

TV

New British TV Series from 2020: BBC, ITV, Channel 4, Sky Dramas and More

By Louisa Mellor

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New British comedy TV series for 2020: BBC, Channel 4, Sky, Dave, Amazon, Netflix

By Louisa Mellor

Famalam series 3

Comedy sketch show Famalam will be back for a third series and a Christmas special in 2020. Series two, which arrived on BBC Three in June 2019, brought more inventively absurd satire with it, and run number three will comprise returns to existing sketches and characters alongside new creations from Samson Kayo and the gang. Stream episodes on BBC iPlayer here.

Friday Night Dinner series 6

Release date: Friday March 27th, 10pm, Channel 4

Robert Popper’s family sitcom starring Simon Bird, Tom Rosenthal, Tamsin Greig and Paul Ritter is making an imminent return to Channel 4 in 2020 for series six. It’s about the Goodmans, a Jewish family who gather every Friday evening for, well, the name says it all. Absurd, funny and silly, it’s a lovely bit of squirrel.

Ghosts series 2

This tremendously fun comedy arrived in 2019 from the cast of Horrible Histories and Yonderland. Happily, it’s been renewed by the BBC for both a second and third series, which guarantees us a dozen more episodes of spectral shenanigans as Alison and Mike (alive) try to keep the ancestral family home going while dealing with an influx of housemates from history (dead). Filming wrapped on series two in March 2020. Stream Ghosts series one on BBC iPlayer.

His Dark Materials series 2

The first series of BBC One/HBO’s Philip Pullman fantasy adaptation took us on an epic journey north as young Lyra (Dafne Keen) travelled in search of her missing friend, and discovered a great deal more besides. A second eight-episode series adapting The Subtle Knife, book two in Pullman’s original trilogy, is in the works and expected to arrive at the end of 2020. A third potentially longer run adapting The Amber Spyglass is yet to be confirmed but that’s almost certainly just a formality at this stage. Read our spoiler-filled series one reviews and more here.

Home series 2

Aired in: February 2020

Rufus Jones’ timely comedy about a family who inadvertently smuggle a Syrian asylum seeker into the UK returning from a French holiday was recommissioned in August 2019. This warm-hearted sitcom starring Jones, Rebekah Staton and  Youssef Kerkour was a little bit drowned out in the schedules (it aired the same week as series two of huge hits Fleabag and Derry Girls) and deserves more applause.

Inside No. 9 series 5

Aired in: February 2020

Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton continue to produce excellence in their inventive, ambitious comedy-drama anthology series Inside No. 9, and its fifth run was no different. Six new half-hour episodes, in which Shearsmith and Pemberton were joined by a raft of co-stars including David Morrissey and Jenna Coleman, aired this spring on BBC Two. Read our spoiler-filled episode reviews here. And listen to the creators’ deep-dive on each episode in their ‘Inside Inside No. 9’ BBC Sounds podcast here.

Keeping Faith series 3

Celia Imrie has joined the cast of BBC Cymru Wales/S4C’s bilingual Welsh drama Keeping Faith (Un Bore Mercher in its original language) for its third and final series. Imrie will join lead Eve Myles as solicitor Faith Howells in an as-yet undisclosed role. The domestic thriller’s first series, if you remember was a huge word-of-mouth hit, eventually making its way to BBC One after unprecedented public interest. The third series will air in 2020 on S4C, and then arrive across the UK on BBCiPlayer from February 2021. Here’s our series one, episode one review.

Killing Eve series 3

Release date: Sunday April 26th.

Well, it had to come back after that cliff-hanger, didn’t it? Based on Luke Jennings’ Codename Villanelle series of novels, international spy thriller Killing Eve has been renewed for a third run. As is now traditional, there’s a new showrunner in charge for the third time around; Phoebe Waller-Bridge handed over to Emerald Fennell who has handed over to See and Fear The Walking Dead‘s Suzanne Heathcote. Jodie Comer and Sandra Oh star. Read our reviews and more here.

Last Tango In Halifax series 5

Aired in: February 2020

Happy Valley and Gentleman Jack creator Sally Wainwright returned to the series that really made her name – BBC One’s Last Tango In Halifax – for a fifth series. It’s the story of former childhood sweethearts Celia and Alan (Anne Reid and Derek Jacobi) who reconnect in their seventies and remarry, knotting together their families led by Sarah Lancashire’s formidable Caroline and Nicola Walker’s hot-headed Gillian. (See our series one to four recap here, and our episode one review here.)

Liar series 2

Release date: Monday 2nd March, ITV1

ITV rewarded this Jack and Harry Williams psychological thriller starring Downton Abbey’s Joanne Froggatt and Horatio Hornblower’s Ioan Gruffudd with a second series renewal in 2018. Expect more twists, turns and talking points.  

Man Like Mobeen series 3

Aired in: January 2020

Guz Khan’s terrific Man Like Mobeen returned for a third series on BBC Three this January. It stars Khan as a reformed Brummie drug dealer trying to make an honest living while raising his little sister and boasts a hilarious ensemble cast. Stream all three series now on BBC iPlayer.

Read more

TV

New British comedy TV series from 2019: BBC, Sky, Channel 4, E4, Dave, Gold

By Louisa Mellor

TV

New British TV series from 2019: BBC, ITV, Channel 4 dramas and more

By Louisa Mellor

Mortimer And Whitehouse: Gone Fishing series 3

A fishing show may seem like a strange choice for this list of mostly high-profile dramas and comedies, but Gone Fishing deserves as much celebration as any of them. That’s thanks to Bob Mortimer and Paul Whitehouse’s natural chemistry as two long-time friends, both of whom have been forced to contemplate their mortality in recent years due to serious heart problems. It’s fishing, yes, but it’s also chat, silliness and genuine human warmth.

Red Dwarf feature-length special

Release date: Thursday 9th April, 9pm, Dave.

Official confirmation from Dave that the boys from the Dwarf were returning for a 90-minute special in 2020 arrived in October 2019. Titled ‘The Promised Land’, it sees the boys from the Dwarf deal with a tyrannical cat leader and three breakaway cat clerics who worship Lister as a god. Along with the special, which is due to air in April, Dave will also be airing retrospectives celebrating the show’s long history on the BBC and since its revival. Here’s what we know so far. 

Save Me Too

Release date: Wednesday 1st April, Sky Atlantic and NOW TV

Written by and starring The Walking Dead and Line Of Duty’s Lennie James, Sky Atlantic’s Save Me was one of 2018’s top shows. The crime drama set in a South London estate among a cast of lived-in characters played by the likes of Suranne Jones, Jason Flemyng, Susan Lynch and Stephen Graham, was such a critical success, a second series commission arrived hot on the finale’s heels. Lesley Manville has joined the cast this time around, which is a real treat. Read more about it here.

Tin Star series 3

This will be the third and final instalment of the Jim Worth story on Sky and Amazon. Creator Rowan Joffe will wrap up his tale of an English police officer (Tim Roth) who relocates his family to the Canadian Rockies for a fresh start, but who finds that he can’t stop his old life bleeding into the new.

Read more: Tim Roth interview: Tin Star, Reservoir Dogs and more.

The Crown series 4

Release date: Sunday the 15th of November, Netflix

Olivia Colman took over from Clare Foy as HRH Elizabeth II in The Crown series three. The time jump saw Matt Smith replaced by Tobias Menzies as Prince Philip and Helena Bonham-Carter take the reins from Vanessa Kirby as Princess Margaret, with Gillian Anderson playing Margaret Thatcher. Series four is expected to arrive in late 2020. Read our spoiler-free series three review here.

The Last Kingdom series 4

Release date: Sunday 26th April, Netflix

Filming started on season four in April 2019 and the first look images were released back in July 2019, and now it’s finally here. The Last Kingdom series four adapts the next two books in Bernard Cornwell’s Saxon Stories series, The Pagan Lord and The Empty Throne. Starring Alexander Dreymon as Viking-raised-Saxon Uhtred of Bebbenberg, it’s an action-packed historical drama filled with wit and characters to love. Read our spoiler-filled episode reviews and more.

There She Goes series 2

After receiving critical acclaim for its first run and a Bafta for Jessica Hynes (who is brilliant in this, as she is in most things), There She Goes is returning. Shaun Pye’s excellent family comedy-drama has been renewed for a second series that will air on BBC Two instead of its original home on BBC Four. David Tennant and Jessica Hynes play the parents of Rosie, a little girl with severe learning disabilities in Pye’s unsentimental and honest autobiographically inspired series. Read more about why we loved series one here.

The Split series 2

Aired in: February 2020 (all episodes on iPlayer)

Abi Morgan’s legal family drama starring Nicola Walker (Unforgotten, Last Tango In Halifax) returned for another six episode series early this year. It saw Hannah deal with the aftermath of her night with Christie, while at work she handled the divorce of a high-profile couple with an abusive husband. There’s no word yet on whether a third series has been commissioned, but series two certainly didn’t leave things resolved for the characters.

The Trip series 4: The Trip To Greece

Release date: Tuesday 3rd March 2020, Sky One

Filming began on the fourth series of Michael Winterbottom’s The Trip in 2019, and the new series sees foodies Steve Coogan and Rob Bryden travelling around the dining establishments of Greece while they swap impersonations and provide a glimpse into fictionalised versions of themselves. While the first two series aired on BBC Two, from series three onwards The Trip made the move to Sky Atlantic.

Taskmaster series 10

Joining the Taskmaster and little Alex Horne for series nine of Dave’s excellent Taskmaster were Jo Brand, David Baddiel, Katy Wix, Rose Matafeo and Ed Gamble. It’s all change for series ten onwards as Taskmaster moves from Dave to Channel 4. The new series is expected to air in October 2020. Read more about the move and the new series commissions here.

This Country series 3

Release date: Monday 17th of February, BBC Three 7pm

Following 2018’s one-off special, the Mucklowes are back for a third and final series of mockumentary comedy This Country. That’s another six episodes from creator-siblings Daisy May and Charlie Cooper, who are back starring as feckless cousins Kerry and Kurtan in the “typical Cotswolds village” they call home. Series three might be its best yet.

Read more: the new British comedy series of 2019.

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[imitranslates]

Fukigen na Mononokean Ch. 51

We finally get a peek and learn some interesting information! Here’s to hoping we finally get to see Aoi next month.

Please remember to check out the official English release when it comes out, preferably on Crunchyroll if you’re able to!

The newest chapter can be read on the official website by clicking the yellow button labeled 読む!

Fukigen na Mononokean Chapter 51 - Heap of Drawings

Page 1

Yahiko: I'm pretty sure it was a human with this kinda feeling!

[This human is...]

Page 2

[Ashiya's father...]

[Ashiya Sakae.]

Abeno: (A gakuran...)

Yahiko: When I went to Aoi's place to play,

This guy was there.

Yahiko: When I asked him, “Who are you?”

Page 3

Yahiko: He said, “I'm a servant of the Mononokean.”

Abeno: ......

Yahiko: I think he told me his name, too, but... I forgot.

Abeno: Is there anything else you remember?

Yahiko: No...

Abeno: You don't know whether this human has passed away, either?

Page 4

Yahiko: I don't know.

Yahiko: I don't keep track of whether every human

who doesn't bother to play with me could still be alive.

Page 6

Ashiya: Eh!?

Ashiya: Yahiko!? Transformed into Sakae?!

(Abeno: So noisy...)

Page 7

Ashiya: I wanna see, too! Mononokean! Go to Seiryuji Temple!

(Ashiya: I'll confirm if it's the real thing!!)

Abeno: I had to play with him all morning, day, and night. If you don't give him some kind of tribute, he's not gonna transform for you, you know? (I've been with him since the day of the cultural festival...)

Ashiya: ...Sakae's face... what was it like?

Abeno: He had blank-looking eyes...?

Abeno: And...

Abeno: He was wearing a school uniform, and looked to be about our age.

Ashiya: He was in high school?

Ashiya: Yahiko met him that long ago...?

(Then he must know something about the reason for Sakae's disappearance 16 years ago)

(And why he only came back home once after that, three years later...)

Page 8

(More over...)

Ashiya: ...Did Yahiko know anything about when Sakae died?

Abeno: No...

Abeno: He didn't play with him, so Yahiko didn't even remember his name. (It seems he just barely managed to remember what he looked like.)

Ashiya: (If you don't play with him, you'll end up completely forgotten?!)

Abeno: They only met that one time,

So Yahiko's pretty much unrelated.

Page 9

Abeno: For the purposes of our investigation, Aoi is the only one who's connected.

Ashiya: What are those books...?

Abeno: These are all of Aoi's written reports for work.

We might be able to get an idea of the circumstances of Sakae's death with these.

Ashiya: W-

Ashiya: When was it!?

Page 10

Abeno: First, look at this.

Ashiya: This is...

Page 11

Ashiya: A drawing of a demon...?

Abeno: This is a demon that Aoi exorcised.

Abeno: But, what you should be looking at isn't that...

Abeno: It's this “cat.”

Ashiya: Eh...? Where...? Ah, it's really there! A hidden cat...! (I didn't notice it at all...)

Page 12

Abeno: There are other pages with this same cat drawn on them.

Ashiya: Let's see...

Ashiya: I found it!

Ashiya: There's one here, too...!

Ashiya: And here...?!

Abeno: That report has the first cat.

After that, there are a bunch of cats scattered throughout.

Abeno: The total number is 209... (I shouldn't have overlooked any.)

Ashiya: (He was tirelessly working on this Where's Wal** like assignment on his own. (If he said something, I would have helped...!))

Abeno: Before this point, there were decorative drawings hidden inside the portraits of demons.

I've looked at many of these sketches.

Abeno: But the timing and amount of appearances of this cat, when checked again Yahiko's testimony...

Page 13

Abeno: This cat symbolizes...

Abeno: The times Ashiya Sakae was working as a servant of the Mononokean.

Ashiya: ...Sakae was...

Ashiya: A servant of the Mononokean...!?

Abeno: There should be a written record of everyone who was ever employed by the Mononokean, but I haven't found anything in the reports.

Abeno: It seems Aoi was not only hiding it from the Legislator, but the Mononokean as well.

Page 14

Abeno: I can't say for certain why it was kept secret, but it's probably because Sakae was a human....

Ashiya: (I see...) There are demons who hate humans in the Underworld, too....

[For example...]

Abeno: Yeah...

Ashiya: ...But...

Ashiya: The fact that Sakae was employed by the Mononokean just like me...

Ashiya: I only met him once when I was little, so I felt like my connection to my father was pretty weak...

Ashiya: But this makes me feel a little closer to him.

Page 15

Abeno: .......

Abeno: In the Underworld Era, night 48, cycle 27, volume 11.

Request acceptance report number 143.

Abeno: That's the last request with a cat drawn on it.

Page 16

Abeno: The 143th request's report doesn't mention anything out of the norm.

Abeno: The next request, number 144, is the same.

Abeno: These two requests, when converted from the Underworld calendar to the Human world's...

Abeno: Took place 16 years ago...

Abeno: On November 1st and November 2nd.

Page 17

Ashiya: The day Sakae first disappeared was...

November 2nd...

Abeno: In autumn, 16 years ago...

Abeno: So the time period matches up with that story, after all,

Mononokean?

Page 18

[I don't recall the exact date, but it was fall...]

[I think it was a little before I met Itsuki.]

[There was a request to exorcise a demon, and so Aoi went out.

A long time passed, and I had been worried because Aoi didn't come back...]

[It must have been horrible, because Aoi finally returned

and was wounded.]

[I tried to find out what happened, but Aoi only dodged my questions, and I wasn't able to get any details.]

[But when I kept asking insistently...]

Page 19

Mononokean: “I sat vigil at a cat's side.”

[...Aoi said that,]

[While crying.]

Page 20

Abeno: The last picture of the cat... and Aoi's words...

The day Sakae disappeared...

Abeno: If we take all this into account...

Abeno: Ashiya Sakae passed away on November 2nd.

Page 21

Abeno: Between the 143rd and the 144th reports,  there's traces of many pages being torn out.

Abeno: The day Sakae died must have originally been written about here...

Ashiya: That's not possible.

Ashiya: Three years after that...

Ashiya: When I was three years old, he came back, you know?

Ashiya: My mom and my sister met him.

Ashiya: Those two wouldn't have been mistaken.

Ashiya: That was definitely the real “Sakae.”

Page 22

Abeno: That was probably Aoi, taking the form of Ashiya Sakae.

Ashiya: ...Huh?

Page 23

Abeno: Aoi was...

A talented demon, unlike any other.

Abeno: Among anything that exists in the human world,

Abeno: Aoi has a unique and godlike ability to change into whatever could be  visualized.

Abeno: Even humans who can't see demons are able to perceive Aoi.

Page 24

Ashiya: Then...

Ashiya: The person I always thought was my father is...

Ashiya: ......

Page 25

(Aoi-san...!?)

Page 26

Ashiya: ...I see...

Ashiya: That's why he disappeared so soon afterward...

Ashiya: ..Going as far as to transform into a dead person...

Ashiya: Why did Aoi did appear before us?

Page 27

Abeno: ...I wonder.

Abeno: I've only looked the reports concerning what happened 16 years ago, but...

The reason for showing up three years later in that form....

Abeno: Aoi is the only one who really knows.

(November 2nd... Looking at the 144th's report...)

(What was written for it is very much “normal”...)

(Maybe there are other unique markings left in demon portraits...)

Page 28

Abeno: ......

[Could there be some meaning in this stupid-looking drawing...?]

Abeno: What was Aoi thinking...?

That idiot...

[youthindecline]

New comics from Small Press Expo 2017

It’s been a while since I did one of these, but wanted to get back into the habit of sharing my favorite books and new discoveries at cons. As most of you know, Youth in Decline took a hiatus for a lot of 2017 to welcome our daughter into the world.  SPX is a fitting “first show back” as the setting and vibe feels like a high school reunion, packed full of our favorite cartoonists, old friends, and longtime readers. Here is me doing brief, quick, hot(?) takes on most of the new books I grabbed at the show.

Sex Fantasy by Sophia Foster-Dimino.  Sophia’s one of the best contemporary cartoonists working, and this chunky tome collects her multi-year series of mins into one thoughtful book. You can see Sophia working out cartooning decisions over the course of each book, with dialogue / camera / perspective experiments everywhere. The final two chapters haven’t been seen before. Just an incredible, amazing book from Koyama Press.

New things from my alltime favorite cartoonist (hands down), Michael DeForge. A new mini called Loose in his series of sketchbooks, and a massive, oversized new story from Koyama Press called Placeholders. It’s hard to even talk about Michael’s work, it’s so good.  Michael is an incredible writer, and the drawings (where, let’s be real, he can basically draw any & everything) exist to support the writing.  Special shoutout to the early YD logo sketch that made it into Placeholders as an evil startup / corporation, haha 

Two fantastic minis from my SPX tablemate, the incredible Lauren Weinstein.  Both of these comics, Normel Person and Perfect Maine Vacation, were nominated for Ignatz Awards and show the incredible and personal power of Lauren’s cartooning. Perfect Maine Vacation is gutwrenching (in a sweet way that kills me as a new parent) and Normel Person is a hilarious ongoing journal of life in Trump’s Amerika.  Did you hear that Lauren is doing a new comic for Youth in Decline for Frontier next year?  Dude, I know!!!!! (so beyond excited).

Ethan Rilly released the 5th issue of his fantastic series Pope Hats.  Ethan’s sense of his own characters and the knack for small moments and relatable, too real dialogue between friends really shines here. Pope Hats is such a dense and well-appointed serial drama, I’m a huge fan.

Everywhere Disappeared by Patrick Kyle.  Patrick’s new collection of short stories from Koyama Press.  A lot of my favorites from the last few years made it into the book.  Patrick mixes familiar shapes with hyper-present narration that does this weird trick on your brain and unfolds weird contemporary paranoias and ennui. Patrick’s short comics are almost like little polemics, or allegories... upsetting but also hilarious.

I’m Not Here by GG.  Another debut from Koyama Press -- Annie had an unparalleled and unprecedented SPX lineup, I’ve never really seen anything ever before at a show, the r a w  p o w e r of her team.  GG debuts her first long-form narrative, a quiet, slow burn of a story about identity and navigating the transition from un-responsible young adult to the burden of your own parents’ failings (health, decision-making, etc). Very restrained, withholding, and poetic. 

Language Barrier by Hannah K. Lee.  I LOVE THE SHAPE OF THIS BOOK. Both like, literally its formal size (small!) and the flow and design of the book. Included in one tome are Hannah’s incredible type experiments, her comics, her illustrations, and her personal stories. This feels like a true monograph, showing me the many sides and numerous formats of expression from an incredible artist. I loved this book.

Baby Let’s Cruise and We’re Together Now by Jasjyot Singh Hans. I’ve been a fan of Jasjyot’s stuff for a while and following his work on Instagram -- these two minis really brought together a lot of interssting threads. Baby Let’s Cruise is the size & form of an iPhone 7 Plus, and captures the furtive feeling of messaging with someone you don’t know, and navigating the power dynamic anxiously.  We’re Together Now uses an arch-metaphor to capture the earnest passion & paranoiac worry of a long distance relationship.  I’m really excited about what Jasjyot is doing (and will do next). 

The Look Book by Jeremy Sorese. A colorful, exploding collection of imagined (and observed) fashion and bodies and cute men. Jeremy depicts people with a weighty, playful, totally wild eye.  I stared at each drawing for 5 minutes, digging into all the little details.  Really loving the illustration and play Jeremy is doing between his longer works, so exciting to daydream about these outfits.

Starfighter Vol. 4 by HamletMachine!~  100% NOT s FOR w, the latest volume of my friend HM’s ongoing space sex opera is now out. I absolutely love Hamlet’s depictions of bodies, of tension between people -- she has an incredible skill for composition and the gnarly beautiful dance of bodies interacting.  HM has cultivated an incredible fanbase stayed true to her vision and worldbuilding. <3

Daises by Bjorn Daniel Miner.  A short collection of comics by Bjorn, created, conceived of, and produced on Risograph as part of his residency at SVA’s Risolab. Each spread is full of wild textures and color experimentation, pushing the risograph to ends I didn’t think were really possible. Melts your eyeballs, very nice!

A Modest Upbringing by Amanda Castillo.  A touching short story about families (and their pain + baggage) from an exciting young talent. Printed on Youth in Decline’s risograph this past summer as part of an internship helping us out!  <3

Summer Wasting and Sunset Lover by Sunmi.  Two minis -- one huge, one small -- from our friend and former intern Sunmi.  Summer Wasting includes a number of observational comics, sketches & poems, and a really thoughtful book design with little asides bound directly into the body of the comic.  Really exciting watching her work change and mature over the past few years, and so excited about her new press, Dandelion Wine Collective.  <3

Kissing, Waves, and I Can Love You Better From Up Here by Rebecca Kirby (aka reweki).  I somehow wasn’t familiar with Rebecca’s work before this SPX, but was really taken with her composition and use of color.  Her panel structures and experimentation in Waves reminded me a bit of Jesse Balmer and other controlled psychedelic pieces, while the bodies in Kissing and ICLYBFUH both showed an extremely confident and fluid sense of bodies (and color). Kissing was extremely NSFW and rad, while her short musing about a lost pet made me tear up a little. Great work from a creator I’m now following closely.

Drag Race Lookbook by Sasha Velour. Okay, so I didn’t get this at Small Press Expo but it was waiting for me when I got home. A lovely and thoughtfully designed book from the one & only... Sasha Velour!  Such a great recap and reliving of her incredible looks from RPDR, and the commentary at the back is the sort of thing I live for...  Who doesn’t adore Sasha? I have sweet but embarrassing memories of our second-ever proper meeting hungover at MoCCA a few years back as tablemates...  such a vibrant and incredible creator!!! ah

The Spectacularly Sad Surreptitious Spinster Snake Sister: Survival Spellbook by April Malig and The Untitled Queen.  This was an absolutely incredible gift from April!!!!  Sasha superfans will recognize this mini as featured in Velour Magazine #3.  That issue smartly photographed and captured this feature as an object mini-within-a-magazine... and this is one of the rare actual copies April made just for Velour.  Incredible risograph work and color composition... and it’s a little piece of comics/drag history. <3 

The Veggie Team by Ginger Craghead. 9-year old cartoonist creates wild mini about the pranks and misadventures of a team of wild veggies.  What more can I say?  This was legit hilarious (See the 2nd panel on the right page above, hahaha).

Yes by Tom Herpich. Final book from around SPX, this is a new mini from Tom... not exactly a comic, but a short story about isolation and gratification. It was startling and lowkey, and the storybook illustrations showed Tom’s incredible sense of framing and pacing. I’m such a huge fan of Tom’s work, it’s exciting as a reader to see him working through new work in his post-Adventure Time life. Available via his Tumblr still (I think?)

[clevercatchphrase]

2017 in review, and goals for 2018

If I had to describe 2017 in one word it would be... monotonous. Sure, there were plenty of ups and downs, but for the most part, especially the latter 6 months, I just felt like I was going through the motions, holding my nose to the grind stone, doing work and paying off student loans. 2017 blew by me, and I remember thinking each month passed by with unusal quickness. There's a strange sense of disociation with that, like I wasn't really connected to reality for most of the year, and instead watched it pass me by from a seperate temporal window. In a weird way it may have been a bit of a godsend as well. I hear 2017 was hard for a lot of people, but feeling so disonnected from the year may have protected me and cushioned the blow in a sense.

I lost a family member this year in early june. I knew it was coming ever since january as I hated having to watch them deteriorate and get worse and worse until they finally passed. The three months leading up to it and the three months after were particularly hard and left me feeling unable to write or draw or do anything productive. I still miss them terribly. I always will. But I hope I won't let it immobilize me as much this year as it did last year.

Anyway, Let's review my goals for last year and see what I've accomplished. I’ve a lot to say, so for brevity’s sake I’ve put it all under the cut.

GOALS FOR 2017 1) Finish my 50 billion fan fictions so I can get back to drawing Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha. HAHAHAHAHA. The depression I got halfway through the year throughly put a halt on this. I haven't even finished one of the fics I've started in 2016. I got close, seeing as i participated in NaNoWriMo this year to try and force myself to finish, but I still need to revise and edit all that I've written and the motivation is non existant. GOD, I have so many stories too, all of them still undertale fan fiction because I'm still not over that game. I'll list them all when I share my goals for this year later below. 2)Draw in 2 pages of my sketch book each week so I'll finish a sketch book in a year. I was SO CLOSE with this one! I filled out 95 pages! But you know what i discovered in august? I realized that my 100 page sketch book.... was actually 150 pages! Oh well! I drew more this year than I thought i would! Just because i didn't hit 100 pages, doesn't mean I didn't accomplish something! 3) Finish 14 out of the remaining 27 lessons on my duolingo course I went fucking above and beyond with this one. I hit this goal back in may, and then I completely finished up the danish duolingo course by november. I also passed my 1095 day streak which translates to doing duolingo daily for OVER 3 YEARS STRAIGHT. I still practice daily to build my vocabulary, and I know I can't speak it for the life of me, or follow along with fast speakers, but give me a few minutes and I can probably read it for you. Funny how that works, where I can understand danish if it's written out, but ask me to translate from english to danish and I struggle like a butterfly in a tumble dryer. 4) Become passibly fluent in ASL I have this box of 600 ASL flash cards, and this year I practiced two of them a day until I got through the entire box. I certainly learned a bunch of new words but I wouldn't say I was fluent yet. I certainly don't know all the grammar rules yet. I HAVE been able to sign with people at my job, though I do rely heavily on fingerspelling still. Most everyone I talked with seemed to know I was trying and they seemed really excited that I could understand them if they were patient with me. I put more of my focus on Danish last year, but now that I'm done with Danish, maybe I can focust more on ASL. My sister told me about this site similar to duolingo called "memrise" that actually has an ASL course, so you can bet I'll be looking into that. 5) Read the entire dictionary I did this! I kept two spiral note books and wrote down any words I thought were cool or interesting! I haven't gone back and re-read the words I wrote down, but maybe I will this year! It was exhausting. It was weird. I still can't believe I spent about 200 hours last year doing this. 6) Read one new book every month Much like my sketch book goal, I almost completed this one. I kept it up every month until October, and then I just... stopped. I read more than I thought this year, though I ended up usually waiting until the last week of each month to read, and I also cheated by counting the dictionary as one of the things I read (hey, it's a book, ain't it?) I also re-read old books that I know I like, so not entirely 10 new books were read this year. Reading 1 new book a month isn't one of my goals this year, but I hope to read more new stuff reguardless, 7) Actually use the tutorials and references I reblog Seeing as I barely did any digitial art this year, I can't say I did this one. 8) Do more art streams I think my goal was to stream once a month. I clearly didn't do this. I DID stream in 2017, I just didn't tell anyone. Idk why, I just... went live for people to see but didn't let anyone know I did. I also only streamed like... twice? sigh... So... out of the 8 goals I set, I would say I accomplished close to half. I read the dictionary, I finished my danish language course (which I'm counting as two completed goals) and combining the "read 1 new book a month" and "draw 100 pages in a sketch book" I'll count that as one completed goal. I went through all my ASL cards, though I'm not fluent, OH! I also wanted to pay off 6k loan that I had. I want to count this one as a success because I DID FUCKING PAY OVER 6 THOUSAND DOLLARS IN LOANS THIS YEAR. I got a surprise loan I had no idea about in june that was 1500 dollars, which threw me off. I managed to pay it off in 2 months, BUT IF THAT LOAN HAD NEVER EXISTED I TOTALLY WOULD HAVE FINISHED PAYING OFF THE 6K ONE. I've got a little over a thousand left to pay on the 6k loan now, which I will complete by the end of January. I'm so close to being under 10k in debt... GOALS FOR 2018 1)Go from being 5 figures in student loan debt down to 4 figures in debt (pay off 2 out of 4 loans) If everything goes according to Keikaku I'll achieve this by the end of June. This has to factor in things like updating my car registration in april, oil changes, tune ups, tire rotation, gas and food expenses, but as long as I don't get fired I should be fine! 2) Stretch Daily Not exercise. I never exercise. But it would be nice to increase my flexibility. 3) STOP TOUCHING YOUR GODDAMN FACE/ find an effective acne treatment I also want to try washing my face daily. Im fucking 25. I shouldn't have this many pimples. 4) Do another song comic I made A lyrictale for Undertale at the end of 2015 in ten days. I want to make another. I already have it scripted, now I just need to do it. 5) Do at least one art stream a month. Hey, maybe I can stream the next song comic I do. Sure, it'd spoil the song and story for everyone, but doesn't that sound fun? 6)Practice ASL I just started looking into Memrise and their ASL courses. They actually have A LOT, AND! THEY HAVE SIGN LANGUAGE COURSES FOR OTHER COUNTRIES! This year is gonna be fun. (Also, the only reason I want to learn ASL because of Undertale. I'll let you figure out how they are connected) 7) Sew 4 stuffed animals I started sewwing a Hobbes plush in the middle of last year. His body is finished. I just never did the head. The other three stuffed animals I want to make I will keep a secret because I love to keep people guessing. 8) Make two AMVs There are two songs I want to put to Avatar; The Last Airbender, and Avatar; The Legend of Korra. I have about half the footage... I just... need to rewatch the shows and put the clips together. Hey, maybe after I find all the clips I can do a stream of that as well. 9) Last but not least, finish my many, MANY Undertale Fan Fics. a. You Monster (34 out of 37 chapters are written, but only 29 are posted) b. Finish the "Of Two Minds" series (it's explicit don't look) c. Color Theory (A chasriel one shot) d. Something Left Behind (Terrible AU Idea #647) e. Let's Get Real (Self insert, joke, parody thing that will also be explicit) f. Game Day! (something about soccer games with Mettaton along the same vain as Field Trip!) g. Would You Like Fries With That (Nicepants because there's not enough of it in the world) h. Science Fair! (something with Undyne and school projects along the same vain as Field Trip!) i. One that is so horribly dark and fucked that I won't even describe it here. Welp! Those are my goals for 2018! What are your goals for 2018? Whatever they are, I wish you success and improvement, health and wealth! Stay safe this year! I love you all~

[mattbrothersscriptwriter]

My Top 20 Films of 2017 - Part Two

Ok, so about ten minutes ago I finished watching my last 2017 film of the year. For my FULL list - all 127 films watched in order of preference - jump on over to my Letterboxd page: https://letterboxd.com/matt_bro/list/films-of-the-year-2017/

Alright, top 10:

10. Logan

In a time when a lot of people still bemoan the existence of so many comic book movies (occasionally, with a point) this has been a stellar year for them. Marvel’s triple whammy of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2, Spiderman Homecoming and Thor Ragnarok were all excellent, heartfelt, fun knockouts and Wonder Woman was a terrific showcase for both Gal Gadot and Patty Jenkins (not to mention hugely important in its own right). Only Justice League really fell back on old tired habits and resulted in a bizarre mashup of tone and purpose and featured the single most damning piece of CGI buffoonery ever conceived in Henry Cavill’s ‘we’ll fix it in post’ deleted moustache. That really is one for the ages.

But I could never have foreseen the power and beauty of something like Logan, a near-perfect capper to a spinoff trilogy that began with the God-awful Wolverine Origins. It’s strengths come from it’s convictions – this isn’t an episodic story servicing a franchise, this is a true stand alone character piece, focusing on the rarest of things – an actual ending to a beloved, previously untouchable, immortal superhero. Played out as a tragic western with claws, the film beautifully champions the importance of family and love, seen (at last) through the eyes of those that never dreamed they would experience it, let alone fight for it. With some fantastic action set pieces to boot too, this one really has its cake and its eat and is also a real sight to behold – I saw it for a second time in it’s gorgeous black and white ‘Logan Noir’ cut and every frame is a revelation. Huge props to Patrick Stewart too, delivering a devastating performance of a character is has also lived with for the past SEVENTEEN years.

9. Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool

This film is a heartbreaker. My God. Definitely the most surprising cinema-going experience I had this year. I went with a friend of mine and by the time the credits were rolling, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house – best encapsulated by a burly scouser sat behind us who was openly saying “Fuck me, didn’t expect that for a Sunday afternoon. Jesus! How bloody brilliant was that!? Got any tissues?’.

Focusing on the later years of Hollywood starlet Gloria Grahame (Annette Bening on Oscar sweeping form), it finds her semi-washed up and treading the boards in London where she meets and falls for Peter Gallagher (Jamie Bell – never better than this) another actor, half her age. The tenderness and straight forwardness of their pairing is so refreshing, never making an issue or point about the older woman/younger man dynamic unless directly challenged by other characters (including Gloria’s bratty sister Joy) or themselves. The most effective emotional beats of this film aren’t signposted and drawn out for Oscar clip schmaltzyness but instead hit you in a sudden burst of passionate regret; hurtful words said in anger or defence – truly proving that the most harmful things you can say to someone you love are all too easy to let slip out before you’ve had a chance to think about what you’re saying. But the damage is done.

The film-making here is exceptional too. What could have been a rather dry biopic is given such momentum through brilliantly executed scene transitions and a flashback-enhanced narrative that keeps us embroiled in the present day scenes of Gloria succumbing to cancer whilst we watch their initial courtships and brutal arguments from the months and years leading up to it. The supporting cast that includes Julie Walters, back as Bell’s mother and Stephen Graham as his brother are brilliant but this is Bening/Bell’s movie and they knock it out of the park.

8. Baby Driver

My big birthday blowout screening of the year, following last year’s Aliens 30th anniversary showing, Baby Driver did not let me down. All the usual energy, narrative foreshadowing and tightly controlled construction you’ve come to expect from an Edgar Wright flick blown out onto a much bigger and more confident scale. The genius pairing of getaway driver crime heist flick and vehicular musical allows for some hugely inventive set pieces, from the opening police chase set to Bellbottoms by the John Spencer Blues Explosion to the car-on-car parking lot duel with Queen’s Brighton Rock echoing through the tunnels.

Ansel Elgort delivers a breakout turn and everyone from Jon Hamm, Jamie Foxx and Kevin somebody-or-other are having a ball playing bad. The romance with waitress Lily James initially feels a little under cooked but it all plays into the escapist fairytale of the action and seeing them dance together in a laundromat whilst sharing headphones is one of this year’s purest joys.

7. Get Out

Where It soaked up much of the straight spooky horror acclaim this year, Get Out walked a much more tantalising and complex line between thriller, social drama, satire, comedy and horror – and pulled it all off effortlessly. Jordan Peele has long had grand cinematic aspirations as evidenced in some of the larger scale sketches in his fantastic show Key and Peele but this clearly represents everything he wanted to say and do in a debut feature. I think the odds of so perfectly nailing your voice and intentions in your very first film is astronomical but damn, he must be proud, not only of the film itself but the cultural reach, impact and resonance it has had with audiences.

Daniel Kaluuya is excellent as the everyman battling his own (rational) fears and paranoia before his instincts slowly become the domineering voice in the back of his head. Trust in oneself is the saving grace here and it’s great to see an array of other ‘traditional’ characters for this genre twist the knife and reveal their true colours. The “Rose, where are my keys” turning point is perhaps the tightest I’ve gripped the arm of my chair all year. And the eventual climax is one of the best examples of subverting expected genre tropes. Brilliant.

6. Raw

Speaking of confident debuts, Julia Ducournau’s is equally astounding. Not for the faint hearted, this queasy, cannibalistic coming of age tale is a near perfect slice of fucked up fever dream. It follows a young vegetarian attending veterinary college who is forced to eat rabbit meat in a sick hazing ritual – one that her fellow student and older sister has clearly already experienced. Slowly but surely, a triggering of her animalistic appetite grows, coinciding both with her own first steps into a sexual awakening as well as a growing sense of unease that something isn’t right in her family to begin with. 

The plot takes some nutty turns, not least in the last few minutes, but everything works; from the gorgeous imagery to the tonal juggling to the assured performances. This would make an excellent entry in an ‘arthouse does horror subgenre’ triple bill, doing for cannibals what A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night does for vampires and The Witch does for... witches.

5. Jackie

This is a breathtaking biopic - interested less in the broad strokes of history and what we think we know about the aftermath of one of the most infamous events of the 20th century and more in the nuanced, private, personal moments of grief in the public eye. Natalie Portman is astounding as Jackie Kennedy, nailing everything from the look to the voice to the affectations, and its the dreamlike, woozy way that the film unfolds that really draws you in and positions you in the eye of a hurricane. The JFK assassination was a monumental cultural milestone but this story asks you to put yourself in the shoes of a woman who was unavoidably trapped at ground zero - and largely all alone with her memories and emotions, despite the surrounding pressures of aides, the press and the American people.

This is supremely confident filmmaking, incredibly affecting and features another stand out score from Mica Under the Skin Levi.

4. 20th Century Women

The second film on my list for both Annette Bening and Greta Gerwig, this is a wonderful story about the strengths and flaws found in both the family we’re given and the family we choose. With an anecdotal, episodic structure, it is less focused on plot and more on the individual moments that the characters in our lives provide us with; how they affect our own life story and evoke memories of a certain time and place. 

It’s highly emotional, with touching asides and rambling voiceovers telling us numerous stories whilst keeping a sense of an anchor through the relationship between Jamie (Lucas Jade Zumann) and his mother Dorothea (Bening). The supporting cast is uniformly great, from Elle Fanning as the girl next door to Billy Crudup as a lonely tenant/handyman, this one really hit me hard. The late 70s period details, along with the soundtrack, and the sun bleached cinematography recalls the joy of discovering yourself through questionable music, bad decisions and rebellious behaviour. Check it out.

3. A Ghost Story

I doubt any other film this year left quite a long lasting impression as this one did. I couldn’t stop thinking about it afterwards and became rather obsessed with pretty much everything it accomplishes. It’s a fairly straight forward tale of a couple (Casey Affleck and Rooney Mara) whose relationship begins to feel the strain as they quietly realise they might want different things in life. We’re not privy to many more details, positioned as a voyeur which will continue as things unfold but before long, Affleck is killed in a simple car accident outside his home and seemingly rises from death to haunt his old home, dressed entirely in the hospital bed sheet his corpse was covered in. It’s a genius depiction of the traditional ghost - simultaneously off-putting, amusing, whimsical and ridiculous - and it’s also rooted in logic too. As the ghost continues to watch his Mara grieve for him (mesmerisingly encapsulated in an unbroken take of a depressed Mara eating an entire pie that her neighbour brought round), he (and us) slowly begin to notice time... breaking.

The way the passing of time is visualised here is beautifully simple - rather than the long slow fades that normally indicate transitions, here it is as sudden as the ghost turning around to look over his shoulder, through a series of hard cuts or sometimes, no cuts at all. That feeling of time literally slipping away is brutal and the ghost can do nothing but wander about, seemingly helpless to how fast things change. One moment, Mara packs up and leaves, the next a new family of three have apparently been living there for months. Ultimately, the film becomes a meditation on the importance we embue in places, not so much people. The house is the anchor - the core - of what the ghost latches on to and if you’ve ever had the feeling of wondering who lived in your home before you and who will be there after you’ve gone, this film will dig deep into your mind.

I found this to be a brilliantly low-fi way to tell a huge thematic story and the use of music throughout - including one central track in particular - only adds to it. If you can get past the pie-eating without thinking ‘da hell is this’, you’re in for a treat.

2. Dunkirk

I’m almost scared to put this so high. I’ve no doubt in my mind that it’s a five star film and it’s certainly the most visceral, immediate cinema going experience I’ve perhaps ever had (I caught it at the BFI IMAX, opening night, at a late showing and it truly does fill your entire periphery vision) but a part of me wonders if it will hold up on second viewing - i.e. if seeing it anywhere other than the IMAX will diminish it. Well, I’m sure it won’t be the same but I’m also convinced it won’t matter either because this is clockwork precision film making of the highest order; an exercise in narrative structure as well as simply being the most accurate representation of the event in question as there possibly could be.

Some people have complained that this film does a disservice to its characters but I disagree. The power of this story is that it’s the tale of the everyman - how all of these people, no matter the extent of their involvement or the merits of their bravery, became heroes. I don’t need to see the ‘movie’ version of this - where characters chat about their backstories or show photos of loved ones or do every other cliche around. I KNOW all that is going on within the frame but I don’t need to see it. What we’re seeing is the immediacy of these events, which heightens the terror and the hopelessness felt by everyone on that beach or in those boats or in those planes. The land/sea/sky split is impeccably done and the devotion to practical battle scenes is stunning. The aerial dogfights - in full IMAX - practically made me feel like I was strapped to a wing. But even looking past the spectacle, the performances DO bring out the heart of the characters we’re presented with. From Cillian Murphy’s PTSD riddled soldier to the steely determination of Mark Rylance to the rather genius casting of Harry Styles - the exact kind of kid who would have been swept up in this war - everyone is all in and they all blew me away. Especially Tom Hardy, in perhaps his most restricted role yet (it’s like Bane meets Locke), who garners the biggest cheers.

And Hans Zimmer’s epic score can make me sweat just thinking about it. A perfect compliment to the tightening framework and increasing stakes of the action.

1. La La Land

Where do I even begin with this? Full spoilers ahead, I couldn’t help myself.

Clearly, this isn’t a film for everyone. And I get that. Some people think it’s fine but kinda hate musicals. Others get frustrated with the character’s choices. Others would have preferred it to actually remain a musical throughout. I understand all of these criticisms but for me, it does perfectly what it sets out to do. 

First of all, I personally love the musical numbers - from the jaw dropping opening of Another Day of Sun to the kinetic, glamourous rush of Someone in the Crowd to the heartfelt yearning of City of Stars. I think they’re great tunes, wonderfully performed and exceptionally shot. I think of the long one-shot takes of the first, the swimming pool splashdown of the second and the little smack on the shoulder of the third. They’re rooted in feeling, in character and in the tradition of Hollywood. They wear their influences on their sleeve but never feel like a parody. And to me, the sudden shift away from being a flat out musical at the end of the first act is not a misstep but entirely organic - this is the rare love story that has its head in the clouds (romantic dating montages, dreamlike dancing through the stars) as well as being brutally honest about what we want, how we get them and the sacrifices these things cost. 

The movie starts out as this fantastical anti-meet-cute before morphing into a romantic fable full of wonderment but the moment the characters get together, it switches gears and becomes more grounded in reality. The music largely stops and the real world catches up. Arguments are had, compromises are made, promises are broken. This is the harsh truth of getting what you want at the cost of losing what you’ve perhaps always wanted. The tension between Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) and Mia (Emma Stone) becomes uncomfortable - he’s lying to himself about doing what he must to achieve his real dream, even despite Mia’s support and she is battling her own demons in chasing hers. It’s only when the film brings them to their lowest points does it slowly turn back into being something more magical. Sebastian returns to Mia with the news of a new audition, which results in the most raw song/anecdote of the film ‘Audition (The Fools Who Dream), and just as we’re swept into the happy ending we were promised from decades of these movies, the pair realise they have to do their own thing. “We’ll just have to wait and see”...

The film’s extended epilogue is where it really doubles down on this idea. As we’re treated to a return of the ‘full blown musical’, we see the true Hollywood version of this entire story, played out in dreamlike fast forward. Sebastian leaping off his piano to kiss Mia the second he meets her, the villainous J.K. Simmons snapping his fingers and stepping aside, Sebastian giving a standing ovation at Mia’s one woman show that he missed entirely before, the two of them travelling to Paris and crafting a life together that Mia actually did alone. On the surface, it’s a joyous, colourful, happy finale but the final curtain reminds you that it’s all been... a daydream. The road not travelled. So while the film ends with them both achieving their own desires, they’ve lost one another. This is the all-too-often-true cost of creative pursuit and fulfilment and it’s so rare to see it held aloft in the final reel of an Oscar winning movie that appears to be the exact opposite on the surface. 

It’s daring, brave and imaginative and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Maybe I’m too soppy and maybe I’ve just ruined the entire plot for you (I definitely have) but I just couldn’t see anything topping this the moment I saw it. And I guess I was right. Damien Chazelle is a wizard and I can’t wait to see what comes next.