#Add timestamp to photo

[cas-theghostking]

Tadc spoilers

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Okay so I'm like 90% sure ragatha is southern and grew up on a ranch

One

Horses

Two

Her accent started coming out after she mentioned the horses and idk if anyone else heard that but I deffinetly did

[kdh-tally]

Saja Boys Food Preferences

Prompt : Saja Boys Try Human Food for Real (comment from @mythosmaiden)

Author's Note : The order was randomized i promise! Stay till the end for a short Bonus ;D Also I've noticed (i copy my work from a google doc into tumblr) a lot of my formatting changes (specifically indents :( )

Romance-Saja: 

A sugar fiend

A sugar demon

Sugar

I do think he would have the BIGGEST sweet tooth out of all the Boys.

Would it be a stretch if I said that the “Soda Pop” song was influenced by him?

Imagine (when he’s still a demon) him being so oddly passionate about energy and brightness in human songs

Maybe it’s because it was something he never got to experience…

Anyways!

At first, it started slow. 

He would definitely have tried chocolate as it fits with his whole romantic concept but then it becomes a craving he needs to fulfill everyday.

He would steal some of Mira’s food from her fan mail whenever he could and only become more obsessed.

But then someone handed him a crème brûlée (yk cause it’s french? and France is the city of love? And Love = Romance?) at a fan event, and it was over for everyone.

The type to have an organized snack drawer of his favourite sweets.

You have the candy in one drawer, the snacks in another and then a whole other section for chocolate.

At this point it isn’t even a snack drawer, it's a whole damn closet.

“This must be what heaven tastes like~” he hums, walking to the dorms with Mira and Abby

“Romance, that’s literally just sugar and fat.”

“Exactly.”

Fans now have photos of him sneaking off to cafés in full disguise. 

There’s footage of a mysterious man inhaling cupcakes at a bakery in Seoul. 

Fans know it’s him and they’re right but he denies it anyway.

He tries to get the others hooked so he doesn’t feel alone but they have their own addictions.

“Come on Mystery, just try the strawberry cheesecake. Just a bite.” he tries to feed him.

“I said no.”

“I always knew you hated me” 

Baby-Saja :

He’s already made a name for himself.

His tastebuds are comparable to Bakugou’s from MHA.

High tolerance to spice.

As seen in the movie this guy was HAPPILY downing a bottle of hot-sauce. 

He was literally kicking his feet. (TimeStamp on Netflix - 1:10:16)

As a result of this, he must add spice or hot sauce to anything.

It sounds weird to others but since he was a demon his taste buds are haywired and don’t work like they’re supposed to.

I imagine him on live eating icecream or something and he gets comments like “What flavour is that?”

Bro will deadass look into the camera and say “Jalapeno”

Who in the world made Jalapeno Icecream and why on earth is bro eating it???

In one of my past posts I mentioned that he would share his snacks with Zoey.

Zoey probably has a decently high spice tolerance (thanks to Mira) but it is NOTHING compared to Baby’s.

“You said these were flaming hot cheetos!” she whines as she hurriedly drinks a tall glass of ice cold water.

“Yea,” Baby shrugged, tossing a few more into his mouth. “They’re flaming hot” he pulls out a cheeto that is literally on fire.

Mira and Baby would have competitions

In the airplane scene, Mira’s ramen says Spice Queen so I heavily believe she loves spiciness as well.

Her tolerance isn’t as high as babies but she will go up against him solely out of spite.

“Are your taste buds even real?” Jinu would ask, watching him top raw chili peppers with habanero flakes. “They are. They’re just stronger than your whole bloodline.” “K.”

One day on tour he was forced to try some average cookies and almost turned back into a demon because of how bland it was.

He has a shelf in the company kitchen labeled. “DO NOT TOUCH. BABY’S FIREPANTRY.” The only person allowed to look through it is Mira because he respects her commitment.

Mystery-Saja :

He would act like he didn’t care about food at first.

Would side eye Romance for trying to feed him sweets and watch Baby warily as he basically burns his tongue off.

Though most of the demon powers faded, he still doesn’t need food to really survive. 

Maybe they only have to eat like once a month or something before they begin starving.

Anyways

He ends up learning everything through Zoey

I wouldn’t say he cares for one specific food but more so food from a specific culture. 

Said culture being american food style foods.

Burgers, Fries, Fried Chicken (gnarly), Tacos, Cheese Fries, Steak.

Big, messy and more or less very VERY unhealthy.

He’ll still act like he doesn’t care about food. He claims he only eats to survive. 

Catch this man in the kitchen at midnight microwaving leftover pulled pork Zoey brought from some food place downtown.

“I thought you didn’t like barbecue.”

“I don’t.” His chewing is the only sound in the room “...It’s fine I guess.”

Zoey smirks. He blushes. She walks away before he can defend himself.

He now goes to Zoey for food now because she always seems to know the best places to eat nearby.

“Hey! I found this place that sells suuuuper good Philly cheesesteak. Taste it and tell me if it’s good.”

“For what?”

“Is it a crime to want to share this experience with my darling coworker?”

He has no response to that and stuffs the food into his mouth.

Heaven.

He can be found watching long tutorials on how to make a Mexican packed Burrito bowl from scratch. 

No one questions it..

Abby-Saja :

The least picky

Somehow the most willing to try absolutely everything, no matter how strange.

The type to try Balut (developing fertilized duck) or Casu Marzu (maggot cheese)

Doesn’t necessarily care for food but wants to enjoy the human experience so he tries everything.

Fried crickets? He says they taste like chicken.

Boiled frog legs? He says they taste like Swamp style chicken.

Balut? Crunchy surprise chicken.

Notice the pattern?

Mira would dare him to try a Durian and at first he’s against it. 

This honestly comes as a surprise cause he hasn’t minded all the other things

It was the odour that put him off though,

“It smells like toxic sewage” he’d complain before trying it.

He loves it.

He says its sweet and rich and creamy.

Mira is watching this in disgust btw.

He’d have a fan from Thailand deliver him a suitcase of dried insects to try out.

He thanks them profusely 

Of course this confuses everyone. 

He has a whole list ranging between sweet, savoury and down right horrid (but still somehow good?)

He’d spend days trying out each insect and rating them, loyally updating fans on his discovery.

“This reminds me of peanut butter” he’d say while eating out of a bag of crickets.

The group is heavily disturbed. 

“Why do you do this?” Mystery eyes him while eating out of his own bag of caramelized pop-corn.

“Protein.”

“You don’t need to work out?”

“Spiritual protein.”

“You’re a demon??”

“Demonic protein”

“What does that even mean—”

He is now the food vlogger in the Saja Boys.

Seems like the type to do a mukbang but not because of the asmr. Really just because he knows his fans want to see just how far he’ll go with his food.

There are compilation reels of his chaotic reviews.

Some of them feature Zoey cause she’s the least bothered.

Jinu-Saja :

Seeing as he was human before, he seems like the type to cling onto the food from his past life.

A traditionalist in the culinary sense.

Maybe cause eating traditional food reminds him of what he could have had with his mom and sister, before everything went wrong. 

Or maybe not 🤷

“Why are we eating scorpion skewers when there’s rice and kimchi in the fridge?”

“Because the scorpions were on sale, Jinu,” Abby says, chewing.

After learning how money worked in the human world the boys either became shopaholics (Romance and Baby) or very frugal (Abby and maybe Mystery).

He tries to explain and introduce the boys to korean staples

Kimchi-jjigae, Tteokbokki, Bibimbap, Bulgogi, Jjajangmyeon, etc.

The boys do not get it

The girls do.

He turns into a male wife for Huntr/x. Cooking for them everyday just so he can see SOMEONE appreciate the traditional food.

He didn’t know how to cook at first. As we know from the movie, he was served food and never seemed to have to make it himself.

However I can see him forcing himself to learn how to do it. Kinda like to take his past back in a way. Maybe make his mom proud.

To Jinu it isn’t just food. It’s control. It's the ability to create something and call it his own.

It’s the first time in 400 years that he could put something into the world that didn’t cause destruction. 

Rumi would find him heating up and plating Banchan in the middle of the night. She’d jump up to sit on the counter beside him, just watching.

“Need help?” she’d offer but he’d shake his head

He enjoys the peace that comes with reviving memories. Memories he actually enjoys. 

Now when he cooks he doesn’t see the castle life he greedily enjoyed, but instead a group of his closest friends fighting over food.

Mira -> “This is almost as good as my grandma’s…”

Jinu -> “Really 🥺?”

BONUS : Huntr/x

Zoey : The honorary food guide, bringing random snacks for Mystery (and the others i guess) to try. Also loves snacks

“Here. This one’s American BBQ chips. It’s mid.”

“I found you some boiled snails Abby!!!”

“We’re out of hot sauceeee :(“ 

Mira : The spice queen. 

Not as talented as Baby but is the closest second.

Often borrows the least spiciest food she can find in Baby’s stash.

She will however, eat from Mystery’s snack closet though.

“It’s alright I guess,” she scoffs as she eats another chocolate covered strawberry.

Rumi : The picky eater. She judges everything.

Well everything except Jinu’s cooking

“The texture’s all wrong,” she grumbles while forcing a piece of kimchi down her throat.

“It’s just pickled cabbage Rumi,” Jinu would point out

“It’s gross it what it is”

“You don't like it? 🙁” 

“Jinu no…..”

[strwbyoons]

MAKE IT RIGHT

STARRING ... EX BF!K. NAMJOON X READER

WORD COUNT ... 6.9K

SUMMARY ... you were the right people in the wrong place. then the wrong people in the right one.

NOTES/WARNINGS ... slowburn. exes to i don’t even know. angst. eventual smut. unresolved everything. she’s a bit shit but i’m reeling a bit from my own breakup so take this self indulgent piece i wrote instead of studying.

playlist : nuts (rm). are we still friends (tyler the creator). love me not (ravyn lenae). athena (so!yoon!). jodie (sza). never be like you (flume). drain me (towa bird). i don’t smoke (mitski). come back to me (rm). white ferrari (frank ocean).

you’re not sure when the train started rocking you to sleep, but it is. slow and steady like the world outside doesn’t exist beyond the window blur. the lights of the city smear into amber streaks across the glass, and you’re tucked into the corner seat, jacket pulled tight around your body, headphones playing soft in your ears.

it’s late. too late for anyone to be here by choice. somewhere near the front, a man coughs. the doors hiss open and shut without anyone getting off. you don’t lift your head, don’t even bother looking.

you’re not all the way asleep, but not fully awake either. floating in that in-between space where your thoughts start to drift into dreams and back again before you can catch them. your cheek is pressed to the cold window, and you think, just briefly, that you should move before it leaves a mark. but you don’t. you just breathe. in, out.

your phone buzzes in your pocket. three times in a row, sharp against your thigh. you don’t move right away. just shift your weight, blink slow. the train lurches around a bend, and the lights outside flicker before you finally pull your phone out with one hand, thumb lazy against the screen.

3 unread.

one from your boss, timestamped four hours ago. “hey, just confirming you’re still set for the morning meeting?”

you’re not. you’d forgotten about it entirely.

the second is from your group chat, something about drinks next weekend, someone sending a blurry photo of themselves in a bathroom mirror with the caption “do we like this top or do we LOVE this top.”

you don’t reply to either. just swipe the notifications away.

the third is from taehyung, sent maybe thirty minutes ago:

“u forgot the oat milk again i hate u 😔”

“also we’re out of soap. and bananas.”

you exhale through your nose. not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. you’d meant to stop by the store. really. you’d even written it down on the back of your hand in smudged blue ink, sometime between clocking out and having a smoke.

but you forgot. as you usually did.

you open the messages. stare at the blinking cursor for a moment. then type:

“next time i’m making you come with me so i can blame you when we forget everything.”

you add a heart. not because you mean it, really, but because it’s easier than anything else.

the reply comes fast:

“deal. should have known i couldn’t trust you 🤨.”

your mouth twitches and the train jolts slightly. someone gets off two stops ahead of yours, and the carriage feels a little emptier. you go back to staring out the window, back to drifting, back to that half-sleep that doesn’t quite let you go.

the music in your headphones changes. something softer now. something familiar. you let it play, filling the quiet space between your ears while the rest of the train hums with static and the low, tired breath of late-night commuters. you’re still watching the window, but you’re not really seeing anything anymore, just the echo of movement.

your phone is still in your hand. warm now, from the heat of your palm.

you glance at the date.

may 26.

you blink. then blink again.

oh.

you hadn’t meant to remember. hadn’t planned on keeping track. but there it is—quiet and obvious and sharp around the edges.

three years ago tonight you were splitting a bottle of wine in a blanket fort that kept collapsing on itself, laughing so hard your cheeks hurt. now you’re on a train.

your fingers hover over your screen for too long. open messages. scroll down past taehyung, past your boss, past group chats and muted numbers you never saved.

until his name finds you.

kim namjoon

last message: may 20, 2024

happy anniversary, even if we’re not us anymore.

you tap into the chat. the typing bubble stares back at you like it’s daring you to do something stupid. you stare at it right back. then type:

hi.

delete.

wasn’t gonna say anything.

delete.

hope you’re good.

delete. delete.

the train slows. your stop is next. you don’t give yourself time to think about it—just type:

happy anniversary

no heart, no punctuation, just that. you hit send. the screen goes dark.

you tuck the phone back into your pocket like it doesn’t burn a hole straight through you. the doors open, the night air spills in, and you step out.

you walk with your hands buried in your pockets, head low, breath ghosting out in front of you. your boots scuff against the sidewalk, the streetlights flickering like they’re tired too. you’re not in a rush. not really going slow, either. just… moving.

you make it halfway down the block before your phone buzzes. one short vibration. then another.

you stop, standing still under the halo of a streetlight, concrete damp beneath your shoes, and pull your phone out.

kim namjoon

you remembered.

two words. that’s it. you stare at them for a moment too long, not sure what you expected. even less sure if this is better or worse than silence.

another buzz.

i didn’t think you would this year.

you swallow. your thumb hovers again, brain racing to catch up with your heart, and you type.

i almost didn’t.

send. then:

me too.

the wind kicks up, but you don’t move. he’s typing again. then it stops. starts again. stops.

you wait. nothing comes.

so you start walking again. slower this time. like maybe if you drag your feet long enough, he’ll finish the thought.

eventually, your phone buzzes again. you don’t even flinch this time. just glance down, breath catching when you see his name again.

kim namjoon

you should come over.

your heart stutters. one beat, two. then:

scratch that. sorry.

you stop walking. again. right there in the middle of the sidewalk like an idiot.

your fingers move before your brain has a chance to veto.

i can come.

you stare at the words, thumb hovering over send.

then, sent. regret blooms instantly, but you don’t unsend it. you just watch the screen.

he replies fast. too fast.

you probably shouldn’t.

the boys are coming over in a bit. we’re tossing around some demos.

you stare at that one a little longer. then type:

oh. you still make music.

three dots.

yeah.

you don’t know why that hits the way it does. you type, then delete, then type again. you’re about to say something dumb, something you won’t be able to walk back, when your screen lights up.

incoming call: kim namjoon

you just… stare at it. letting it ring once. twice. three times. then you answer.

“…hey.”

there’s a pause. not silence—just him, breathing on the other end, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll hang up on him. you don’t.

“hey,” you say again, quieter this time.

“hi.” his voice is low, rough. like he hasn’t spoken out loud in hours. you tuck the phone closer to your cheek. shift your weight. a car passes by slow, headlights washing the sidewalk in pale gold.

“sorry,” he says.

you don’t ask what for. there’s too much, too many possible answers.

“you still live in the same place?” you ask instead.

another pause.

“yeah,” he says. “same couch. same broken lamp. same weird fridge magnet from when we went to busan.”

your lips twitch, just a little. “you kept that?”

“couldn’t get it off the fridge,” he says, dry. then quieter, “didn’t really try.”

you’re not sure what to say to that. the wind rustles through the leaves above you. you keep walking, just to have something to do.

“you’re close?” he asks.

“couple blocks.”

another pause.

“you really gonna come?”

you chew the inside of your cheek. glance up at the familiar corner ahead. “i’m already halfway there.”

he breathes out. it’s not quite a laugh.

“the boys aren’t coming tonight,” he says.

you blink. “you lied?”

“i panicked,” he says, and now he does laugh. soft and a little breathless. “figured if i gave you an excuse, you’d back out before i could.”

you stop at the edge of the crosswalk. the street’s empty. the light’s red.

“i was going to.”

“i know.”

you both go quiet. like maybe it’s enough to just be on the line, like maybe that’s all this is. then, “joon?”

“yeah?”

“leave the door unlocked.”

“okay.”

the call ends. you cross the street.

the building hasn’t changed. still the same chipped paint by the mailbox, still the same burnt-out porch light that flickers like it’s clinging to life. your feet know the way up the stairs. your hand still remembers how cold the railing is at night. everything feels like a ghost you forgot you knew, familiar in the way old bruises are.

you don’t knock, just test the doorknob. it gives.

he really left it unlocked.

the apartment smells the same. sandalwood and laundry detergent and something vaguely burnt. you toe your shoes off and step inside like nothing ever happened, and then he’s there. in the kitchen, back turned, hoodie hanging loose off his shoulders. he turns when he hears the door shut, and you stop.

he’s got a buzzcut.

your heart trips over itself. it’s stupid, shouldn’t mean anything. but it does. he used to run his fingers through his hair when he was nervous. now there’s nothing to hold onto.

you blink once, twice. he’s watching you watch him.

“when did you—?”

“a few weeks ago,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “felt like something needed to go.”

you nod.

“looks good.”

he huffs a quiet breath. doesn’t quite smile.

“you want tea?” he asks, already turning back toward the stove.

“sure,” you say, even though you don’t.

you lean against the wall, arms crossed, eyes tracing the curve of his shoulders. he looks different. sharper, maybe. or softer. you can’t tell.

he moves like he’s trying not to move too much. like being near you might scare you off.

“you didn’t have to come,” he says eventually, pouring water into the kettle.

“i know.”

“but i’m glad you did.”

you don’t say anything to that.

the kettle clicks on. the room hums with it. you close your eyes, just for a second. just to breathe.

his voice cuts through the quiet again.

“you want to sit?”

you open your eyes.

“yeah,” you say. “okay.”

you follow him to the couch. the one that still dips a little on the left side. the one you used to fall asleep on together when the bed felt too far away.

he sits first. then you.

not close, but not far. just enough. the silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. not yet. just… full. like the space between you is holding its breath.

you stare at the chipped edge of the coffee table. the mug ring stain that’s still there. he taps his fingers against his knees, slow. rhythmic. the same way he used to when he was trying to think of the right words.

you glance sideways. he’s already looking at you.

he doesn’t look away.

“you been okay?” he asks.

you shrug. “mostly.”

he nods because he gets it. and mostly is better than no.

you tug your sleeves over your hands.

“you?”

“some days,” he says. “other days i just fake it better.”

you don’t say same. you don’t have to. the kettle clicks off in the kitchen. neither of you move.

“i didn’t expect to hear from you today,” he says, voice quiet.

“i didn’t expect to send anything,” you admit.

“but you did.”

you nod.

he leans forward, elbows on his knees, head hanging between his shoulders for a second like the words are heavy. “been thinking about what i’d say if you did,” he murmurs. “i mean… if i worked up the courage to actually respond instead of just reading it. like i always do.”

“and?”

he glances up. his eyes are dark and tired and a little bit afraid.

“i didn’t think it would still matter this much.”

your chest aches. not sharp. not sudden. just a slow blooming pressure.

“i know,” you say. “me neither.”

he sits back again. breathes deep. you can see his jaw tighten, then soften.

“you look good,” he says.

“so do you,” you say.

he smiles, just barely, and you look away.

“i don’t know what i’m doing here,” you say.

“yeah,” he says. “me either.”

but neither of you move. you sit like that for a while. still, silent. the tea forgotten. the air between you warm and trembling. and then, quietly, “can i—?” he starts, voice catching.

you turn to him. “what?”

his knee brushes yours. just barely.

“can i hold your hand?”

you don’t think. you just nod.

and when his fingers find yours, they fit like they had a million times before. not tight, just.. there. warm and familiar, thumb brushing back and forth like muscle memory. the couch creaks a little when you shift closer, slowly, carefully, until your shoulder leans into his. until your head finds the space between his neck and collarbone like it always used to.

he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t even move at first.

then his chin comes to rest lightly on the top of your head, and for a minute, everything’s still.

the weight of his hand in yours. the quiet of the apartment. the soft rhythm of his breathing. like nothing broke. like you hadn’t lost each other in the worst, slowest way. like maybe all this time was just a pause, not an ending.

your eyes fall shut and you let yourself pretend. until he shifts, just enough.

his hand slides up, fingers brushing gently against your jaw, your cheek. he pulls back just enough to look at you.

you blink up at him, and he kisses you. or tries to.

your head jerks back instinctively, like your body answered before your brain could.

“oh,” you say. “no… no.”

his hand drops. his face shutters.

“shit,” he says, sitting up fast, already pulling away. “sorry, i—”

“joon—”

“no, it’s fine,” he says quickly, too quickly, like if he says it fast enough it won’t hurt. “i misread that. obviously.”

he stands. paces two steps toward the kitchen before stopping short, hand on the back of his neck. you sit there, still curled into the dip of the couch he just left behind.

you stay frozen for a second, maybe two. the imprint of his warmth is still pressed against your side, your fingers still curled where his hand had been, like your body hasn't caught up yet. like he’s still there.

he’s not.

he’s halfway to the kitchen, back turned, jaw tense, hand dragging down the back of his neck like he's trying to scrape off the moment.

you force yourself to move. stand slowly, smooth your hands down your jacket even though there's nothing to fix.

“i should go,” you say, and it sounds small.

he doesn’t turn around. just nods once.

“yeah,” he says, voice quieter now. “yeah, okay.”

you step toward the door. slip your shoes back on. your heart's doing that thing where it pounds against your ribs but you can’t feel it, not really. just the echo of it. just the ache.

your fingers curl around the doorknob, and you glance back. he’s still standing there, still not looking at you, shoulders drawn tight like he’s trying to hold himself in.

you open the door.

pause.

“…happy anniversary,” you say.

you don’t wait for him to respond. just step into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind you with the softest click.

and it feels exactly the same as the night you left.

not a slam. not a fight. just that quiet sound of something slipping shut. something you don’t know if you’ll ever open again.

it rains the next morning.

not hard, just a steady drizzle that turns the sidewalks slick and the sky a dull grey. you don’t have an umbrella. of course you don’t.

your coat is damp by the time you make it to the corner café, shoes squeaking just a little as you step inside. the barista gives you a knowing look—half sympathy, half amusement—as you order the same thing you always do.

you sit by the window. same spot as always.

it’s early. too early for anyone else to be here. you sip your drink and try not to think about last night.

you fail.

it keeps replaying, over and over. his fingers in yours, the weight of his chin on your head, the way his voice cracked when he apologized.

and your voice, too.

“no… no.”

you hadn’t meant to say it like that.

you stare out the window. watch the drops race down the glass. count them. at some point, your phone buzzes.

you don’t reach for it.

you just sit there, listening to the rain.

the rain starts before the sun finishes rising. soft, steady, unwelcome. it drums against the windows, against the roof, against the mess of dishes he didn’t clean last night.

your mug is still on the coffee table. untouched. cold. he should’ve poured it out.

he doesn’t.

instead, he sits on the edge of the couch with his elbows on his knees, staring at his phone. screen dim. no new notifications.

the message is still there.

i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that.

sent twenty-two minutes ago. still unread.

he considers sending another. maybe something lighter, something stupid to smooth the edges. a joke, a callback, anything.

his thumbs hover over the keyboard.

did you make it home okay?

no. too safe. too easy.

i wasn’t trying to push anything. it just felt familiar for a second.

worse.

he deletes both before they can leave his head, let alone the screen. sets the phone face down on the table.

he tries to rationalize it. tells himself you’re busy. that your phone’s on do not disturb. that sleep caught you hard and fast and that you’ll read it when you’re ready.

but the truth crawls into his chest and sits heavy: he doesn’t know where you went after you walked out. doesn’t know if the “happy anniversary” you left behind was a door creaking open or another click of it shutting.

he rests his head in his hands. his hair’s still too short to tug at. there’s nothing to hold onto anymore. he used to hold you.

he breathes in through his nose, exhales slowly. watches the rain blur the window, watches the empty space beside him on the couch.

it’s too early to regret sending the message. too late to pretend he didn’t mean it.

so he stays there, waiting for the buzz that might not come.

the rain never really stops. it just softens. turns from a steady rhythm into a hush that coats the city in grey. he forgets about the phone for a while. tells himself he’s over it, that the silence says enough.

he cleans. or tries to. halfhearted dishes. laundry started but not moved to the dryer. a notebook open on the counter with nothing written down. the kind of restless busy that looks like movement but isn’t.

hours pass like that. the mug’s still on the table. the blanket’s still half-folded on the back of the couch. your name still presses against the underside of his thoughts.

and then a buzz. sharp and sudden against the kitchen counter.

he doesn’t move at first. just stares at it. two long seconds. three. then he wipes his hands on a towel and walks over slowly.

you:

i know you didn’t mean anything by it. i just wasn’t ready.

he reads it once. again. a third time, slower.

there’s no anger in it, no blame. just truth.

he sinks into the nearest chair, thumb hovering over the screen. what’s the right response to that?

he types.

okay.

types again:

thank you for saying that.

sends it.

then nothing.

he puts the phone down, screen still lit, and exhales through his nose. the silence that follows isn’t empty. it’s not waiting. it just… is. he leans back in the chair, closes his eyes, and lets it be.

the rain starts again that night. harder this time. steadier. you hear it tapping against the window, a restless pattern that sounds more impatient than soothing. you’re cross-legged on the floor, bedroom lights dimmed, blanket around your shoulders even though it’s not that cold.

the shoebox sits in front of you. torn at the edges, corner splitting, lid half-hanging off from years of being shoved to the back of the closet.

you hadn’t planned to open it, but your hands reached for it anyway.

the first photo is blurry. someone’s finger in the frame. you, mid-laugh, turned just out of focus.

the second is sharper. joon in profile, head tilted, sun catching the side of his face. one of those rare moments where he let you hold the camera. he didn’t smile, not fully, but his eyes had.

you keep flipping through them.

you in his hoodie, hood up, making a dumb face.

him asleep on your lap, mouth open, a smear of pen on his cheek from where you’d doodled while studying.

both of you on the fire escape, legs dangling, holding iced coffees like you had nowhere else to be. probably taken by taehyung.

they come faster after that. a pile in your lap. fragments of something you used to know by heart.

there’s one near the bottom you forgot about. a double exposure, accidental. your hand over his chest, his hand over yours, both of you barely visible through the light leak.

it’s bent in the corner. you smooth it out.

you don’t cry. you don’t smile. you just… sit with it.

the box is still full.

you take one photo out and set it aside, then close the lid.

not all the way. just enough.

you leave the photo face-down on your nightstand. not to forget it, just to give it a place. somewhere between holding on and letting go.

the rain presses harder against the window now, almost angry. you draw the blanket tighter around your shoulders and lean back against the bedframe, legs still curled beneath you.

your phone’s somewhere on the comforter, buried under the mess you made pulling the box out. you reach for it without looking, fingers dragging until they find it. the screen lights up. no new messages.

but you open the thread anyway.

kim namjoon

okay.

thank you for saying that.

you reread it. not for meaning—there’s no hidden message. no puzzle to solve. just the quiet of someone who heard you.

you consider replying. but you don’t.

instead, you lock your phone and set it next to the polaroid. two quiet things you don’t quite know what to do with. outside, thunder rolls far off in the distance. slow. unbothered.

you stretch your legs out and pull the blanket higher.

you sleep with the lamp on.

the rain keeps falling.

it’s supposed to be a quick snack run.

just chips, maybe some tteokbokki if the corner spot’s still open. seokjin said he wanted something salty, and hobi kept throwing pistachio shells at the trash and missing.

the air smells like wet pavement and fried oil, and namjoon’s halfway through mentally ranking convenience store ramen when he hears a familiar voice behind him. not directed at him. not even that close. just part of the ambient city noise.

but he knows it.

he turns before his body even gives him permission, and there you are.

hood up, earbuds dangling, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets. standing at the entrance of the same store, eyes on the shelves.

you don’t see him at first.

his heart stutters. stupid, sudden.

he doesn’t know whether to step forward or disappear into the instant noodles. but you glance up, and now you’re looking at each other. not the kind of looking that can be mistaken for coincidence. not anymore.

your brows lift, barely. a breath, not quite a smile.

“hey,” you say, quiet.

“hey,” he echoes, mouth dry.

you shift your weight. your hands don’t leave your pockets.

“snack run?”

he nods. “yeah. boys are over. demo night.”

you hum. “classic.”

there’s a beat. then another. you gesture vaguely at the aisle. “i was just grabbing something for taehyung.”

“he still live with you?”

“unfortunately.”

he huffs a breath through his nose. you don’t laugh, but your mouth twitches. and god, it shouldn’t feel like this, shouldn’t feel this easy.

he grabs a bag of chips without looking. it’s the wrong kind. he doesn’t care.

“you look good,” he says, before he can talk himself out of it.

you don’t answer right away. just look at him, eyes softer now.

“you too.”

the quiet between you isn’t heavy. not anymore.

you nod once, like a closing sentence. “see you around, joon.”

“yeah,” he says, watching you walk past, earbuds going back in, steps unhurried.

you don’t look back.

he stands there for a second longer, hand tightening around the bag, then heads to the counter, chips and all. the night feels different now. louder, sharper. more awake.

he doesn’t know if he’ll see you again soon. doesn’t know if this was another pause or something new, but for the first time in days, he lets himself hope.

the two of you keep bumping into each other after that.

once at the laundromat. you’re pulling half-damp sweaters from a broken dryer when he walks in with a basket balanced on his hip and a confused look on his face like he still can’t remember how much detergent is too much.

you hand him the right cap. he thanks you with a sheepish grin. neither of you mention the convenience store.

another time at the bookstore, tucked in the back corner where the philosophy and poetry shelves blur together. he’s crouched down, reading the back of something with a muted blue spine. you almost don’t notice him until he clears his throat—your name, soft, a question more than a greeting.

you nod at his book.

“you gonna read it or just carry it around like a personality trait?”

he laughs, real and low. “can’t it be both?”

you don’t stay long. just enough to see him smile, just enough to remember what that used to do to you.

then again at the café near your apartment. the one you always swore had the best chai, even though he never agreed. he’s already in line when you walk in, beanie pulled low over his ears, one headphone in. he turns like he sensed you before he saw you.

you wave. he pays for your drink before you can reach for your wallet.

“i owed you,” he says.

“for what?”

“don’t know. felt like i did, though.”

you sit by the window again. two drinks between you. not quite facing each other. not quite avoiding it, either.

you don’t talk about what happened. don’t talk about what didn’t.

but you start saving the photo you set aside. not just in your drawer, but in your phone. you carry it now, digitally. you start keeping his brand of milk in the fridge again. taehyung teases you for it. you let him.

and when your phone buzzes late one night;

u still awake?

you don’t wait five hours to answer.

yeah.

you don’t ask why he texts.

you just go.

throw a hoodie over whatever you’re already wearing, slip on the first shoes you see. don’t bother fixing your hair. don’t tell taehyung, even though he lifts an eyebrow when you head for the door at almost midnight.

he doesn’t ask. he never does.

the walk is quiet. cool enough to see your breath if you exhale deep. the rain from earlier has left everything slick, the pavement reflecting streetlights like puddled gold.

your hands stay in your pockets the whole time.

when you reach his building, the door’s already unlocked. you let yourself in. second time now. doesn’t feel strange anymore. doesn’t feel anything. just… familiar.

his apartment smells the same. sage and dust and faint coffee. there’s music playing from the speakers—instrumental, low and looping. something without words.

he’s in the kitchen when you step in, hoodie sleeves pushed up, barefoot, hair still damp from a shower.

he turns when he hears the door close. doesn’t say anything. just looks at you, eyes flicking over your face like he’s checking for bruises you might’ve picked up along the way.

you toe off your shoes.

“wasn’t sure you’d come,” he says eventually.

“you asked,” you shrug, like that explains everything. maybe it does.

he nods once. shifts his weight. then: “tea?”

“sure.”

you lean against the counter while he fills the kettle. your shoulder brushes the fridge. the magnet from busan is still there.

“taehyung still alive?” he asks.

“physically.”

he snorts. “he still steal your hoodies?”

“he swears they’re communal now.”

joon shakes his head. “you should sue.”

“on what grounds?”

“emotional distress.”

you smile, soft and quick. he sees it. you see him see it.

the kettle starts to hum. neither of you move.

“why’d you ask me to come?” you ask, voice barely louder than the sound of the water heating.

he exhales. leans back against the opposite counter. crosses his arms.

“i don’t know,” he says. “i just… wanted you here.”

you nod once. slow and deliberate. then you say, “okay.”

the kettle clicks off. he turns to pour the water, but not before you catch it. the way his shoulders drop, the way his jaw unclenches.

you’re here. and maybe that’s all he needed tonight.

you take the mug from his hands when he passes it to you. your fingers brush. neither of you flinch.

in the living room, the couch is exactly where it was. the blanket’s folded this time. a candle burns low on the windowsill.

you sit. he follows.

not close, but not far. just enough.

you hold the mug in your hands, feel the warmth against your palms, let the steam kiss your face. the music hums softly in the background—same loop, still no words.

he doesn’t speak for a while. just sits beside you, hands in his lap, eyes fixed on a spot somewhere near the coffee table but not really looking at it. then, slowly, “last time you were here…”

your breath catches, but you don’t interrupt. don’t move.

“when i tried to kiss you.”

he says it plainly. not a question. not an apology, either. just fact.

you wait.

“i’ve been thinking about that,” he continues, voice low. tired in a way that isn’t just physical. “not just that moment. the whole… us. all of it.”

your grip on the mug tightens. still, you say nothing.

“i should’ve done things different,” he says. “i would’ve, if i’d known how easy it was to lose you.”

the words hang there, heavy. sharp around the edges.

he runs a hand through his hair, forgetting for a moment there’s nothing left to run through. his fingers skim over his scalp.

“i wouldn’t have ditched you for studio sessions,” he says. “would’ve called when i said i would. would’ve asked you how you were doing and actually listened instead of… nodding while i wrote lyrics in my head.”

you keep your eyes on your mug. steam’s thinner now. fading.

“i thought i was doing all the right things,” he says, softer. “but all i was doing was… making you feel small.”

you blink once, twice. nod, just barely.

he doesn’t expect more, doesn’t press. just leans forward, elbows on his knees, shoulders rounded.

“i would’ve done everything different,” he says. “if I could.”

you don’t tell him it wouldn’t have saved you. that there were fractures long before the big breaks. that love alone was never the issue.

you don’t say anything.

just sit there, in the quiet. shoulder to shoulder with a boy who used to know your dreams before you did. the tea’s gone cold.

neither of you seem to mind.

the silence between you isn’t empty.

it’s thick with everything unsaid. all the words you both carried and dropped along the way. the rain has stopped, but the window still shimmers with it.

you don’t know why you say it. maybe because he’s quiet and still and waiting without asking. maybe because you’ve thought about it a hundred times since that night—how fast you pulled away. how his hand dropped like it was never meant to hold you in the first place.

maybe because you need to know.

“if you kissed me now,” you murmur, eyes still on the floor, “i’d let you.”

his head lifts. not sharply, just slow. careful.

“not because i want to start over,” you add. “not because it fixes anything.”

you finally look at him. your voice is steady.

“just… to remember.”

he doesn’t move at first, but you see it in his face—the shift. something tender, something hollow. the kind of ache that doesn't leave bruises but lingers under the skin.

“just a reminder,” you repeat, softer now.

he reaches for you slow, like he’s afraid the air might crack. his hand finds your cheek. his palm is warm. his thumb brushes the skin under your eye, once.

he leans in, and this time, you don’t flinch.

his lips find yours. soft, tentative. no urgency. no weight. just a memory written in skin. something familiar. something gentle. when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. you breathe the same air, don’t move.

for one suspended second, you remember exactly what it felt like to be his and to let him be yours.

your eyes flick open just enough to meet his. something shifts in the space between you. something raw. his thumb grazes your jaw, then your lower lip, the touch barely there, but your whole body responds to it—too fast, too much.

his name catches in your throat. you don’t say it.

you just kiss him. harder this time.

he meets you halfway. no hesitation now, no second-guessing. his mouth crashes into yours with something closer to need than memory, hands already in your hair, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him like he can’t bear even an inch of space.

you drop the mug. it spills against the carpet, forgotten. your hands clutch at his hoodie, dragging him toward you, fingers curling in the fabric like it might hold you together if you grip tight enough.

he groans into your mouth—quiet, guttural. one hand slides down, anchors at your waist, the other cradling the back of your neck like he's afraid you’ll vanish again.

you shift, move to straddle his lap without thinking, knees pressing into the couch cushions, breath caught in your throat as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

it’s messy. not careful.

it’s desperation. the kind that comes from remembering what it was to be known by someone completely and realizing how much it wrecked you to lose it. his hands roam. your body burns.

his hands are under your hoodie now, warm palms spanning your waist like they belong there. they used to. you let him touch, let him relearn the shape of you, the way your breath catches when he drags his fingers just above your hip.

you kiss him harder, deeper. like you’re trying to erase time, to claw your way back to the last version of yourselves that didn’t feel this broken.

he lets you.

his grip tightens when your hips roll down against him—slow, instinctive. your name slips from his mouth like a prayer, rough around the edges. he presses his forehead to yours, breathing hard.

“this doesn’t change anything,” you whisper, though your voice shakes.

“i know,” he says, lips brushing yours again. “but i still want it.”

you nod. so do you.

you kiss him again. it’s hotter now, breathless, your teeth catching on his lower lip before he groans and kisses you back with everything he never got to say.

you peel the hoodie off in one slow pull. his hands are everywhere now—your back, your thighs, your jaw. you reach under his shirt, fingers tracing the line of his spine, the dip at his waist, the scar near his ribs he got falling off his bike when he was sixteen.

he used to hate it, and you always touched it anyway.

you run your thumb along it for the sake of it.

he exhales sharp and hoarse against your mouth, and when he pulls back to look at you, you feel it again. not safety, not peace. just that unbearable ache.

the kind that says i still know you.

the kind that says please, even if it’s just for tonight.

he breathes your name again, softer this time, like he’s asking permission.

you answer by leaning in, kissing him slow and steady, and guiding his hand under the hem of your shirt. your skin warms under his touch, and he moves like he’s relearning a language he used to be fluent in, fingertips grazing up your sides, tracing familiar lines.

his mouth never leaves yours for long. even when he pauses to pull your shirt over your head, even when he murmurs something, barely audible, against your collarbone. his lips drag down your neck, teeth scraping gently, tongue soothing the sting.

“missed this,” he whispers, like it slipped out before he could stop it.

your fingers are already tugging at the hem of his shirt, revealing the stretch of his stomach and the planes of his chest. you press your palms there, feeling him breathe, feeling how hard he’s trying to keep it together.

when you shift your hips, grinding down against the hard line of him through his sweats, he groans—low and rough—and grabs your hips, holding you there.

“slow,” he says, but his voice is wrecked. “wanna feel everything.”

you nod, heart hammering.

you lift yourself just enough to let him tug his pants down, and you shed what’s left of your own. there’s nothing hurried now. just heat and breath and the quiet desperation of two people who know each other too well.

he sinks into you slowly, carefully, like he’s trying not to break something. your breath stutters at the stretch, nails digging into his shoulders, his name catching on your tongue.

“okay?” he murmurs, nose brushing yours.

“yeah,” you whisper. “keep going.”

he does.

the pace is slow at first—deep, steady thrusts that make your head spin. you cling to him, arms around his neck, forehead pressed to his. the closeness is unbearable. perfect.

he keeps whispering your name like a mantra, like a tether. one hand grips your waist, the other slides down between you, fingers circling your clit with a practiced ease. you gasp, body tightening, and his pace falters for a moment, like he’s trying to hold himself back and let you finish first.

but the tension’s already building in both of you.

“cum with me,” you whisper, voice cracked open. “please.”

he nods, mouth crushed against your shoulder, thrusts growing erratic as you both chase the edge together.

and then it hits. slow at first, then all at once.

your body clenches around him and his rhythm breaks, a choked sound leaving his throat as he follows, burying himself deep, holding you so close you can’t tell where he ends.

you stay like that. tangled. trembling.

his lips brush your shoulder, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. not kissing—just there. soft and endless.

you don’t speak. there’s nothing left to say right now. you just breathe.

and you don’t let go. not yet.

you don’t go back to joon’s house after that night.

not because you regret it. not because it hurt. but because it meant something. too much, maybe.

when you see him in public, you smile. polite, kind. the way people do when they’ve shared something private that no one else knows about. a glance that lingers a little too long, a wave that almost turns into something else before you catch yourself.

sometimes he says hey with that crooked half-grin. sometimes you both reach for the same brand of ramen in the corner store and laugh like the air between you doesn’t ache.

you don’t talk about that night. you don’t talk about what it was or wasn’t.

but the messages come more often now. casual, quiet. never too much. never late at night.

yoongi says this one sounds too brassy. thoughts?

[photo attachment] hobi fell asleep like this lol

namchan playlist update: we’re back on our weird jazz shit.

you send back voice notes. sometimes your laugh. sometimes the sound of you humming along in the background of your kitchen. once, you send a video of taehyung dramatically lip-syncing a song from the demo joon sent you the week before.

he replies with crying emojis and a “god i miss you both in the same room it’s dangerous.”

you don’t say it, but you miss it too. miss him.

but you don’t go back. not yet.

there’s a rhythm now. a new one. unfamiliar but bearable.

taglist : @rpwprpwprpwprw @haru-jiminn @glossdebut @mimi1097 @angellekookie @ggukivrse @annyeongbitch7 @hemmosfear @auroradamned @jimineepaboya

[phanchester]

since there are so many data nerd phannies i decided to make a compilation of all the spreadsheets i could find - lmk if i missed any or if you want me to add any additional details <3

last updated: 30/06/24

actively updating spreadsheets

dan and phil uploads from 2021-2024

dan and phil’s upload schedule from all their channels with days and dates

amount of days in between videos in each channel

pie charts of days of the week they upload

made by @ahappydnp 

everything dan and phil related

all of dan and phil’s video links from all their channels from all their accounts (including super amazing project, snapchat, vine, tiktok and more)

all of dan and phil’s radio shows, including reuploads and playlists, as well as the dan vs phil, fan war and internet news if available for each show with misc clips and written recaps

all of dan and phil’s liveshows, including some written recaps and the app where it was originally posted

all of dan and phil’s vyous including the question they were answering

all of dan and phil’s collaborations and video features (even if they were in the background), including the channel they were originally uploaded on 

all of dan and phil’s interviews

all of dan and phil’s merch, including originally shop links and links to the phandom wiki which has further information

all of dan and phil’s professional photos as well as some fan photos, including the event, photographer and platform

the dates and statuses of each of these videos (lost, archived, unlisted or public)

made by @stillarchivingdnp

dan and phil 2024 upload stats

each of their 2024 videos with channel, upload date, upload time in uk, length, sponsor and editor/s (if applicable) with an accompanying colour-coded calendar

(for amazingphil videos) whether dan featured and (for dapg videos) whether it was gaming/talking and who tweeted it

interactive part where you can see the time period between two videos

averages, maximums and minimums for times between uploads, upload times and runtimes with accompanying graphs

percentage of videos with other editors, with pie charts for all channels and each channel

made by @dnpbeats

all or nothing: dan vs phil season 2

all of the games for season 2, with the year they played them and the results with and without all or nothing coming into play

how often all or nothing came into play and who suggested it

the general impact of all or nothing

made by @organized-chaotic-disaster

dan and phil saying “i love you”

when dan and/or phil said ily

the video and timestamp from when they said ily and whether it was prompted

pie chart of dan or phil saying ily

made by @ahappydnp

games where one of them decides the winner

date and link for each video

overall winner with the winner for each round

breakdown of the amount of times each of them have won each round and the percentage phil has won

made by @dnpbeats

dan and phil 2024 upload schedule

upload date for each video, with the day of the week and approximate time it was uploaded in cst, including the most common and second most common upload day for dapg

days between each upload, including the longest gap, shortest gap, average gap and first and second most common gap for dapg

a colour-coded calendar displaying the upload schedule for dapg and amazingphil

made by @kat-aa

completed spreadsheets

all or nothing: dan vs phil season 1 with a great accompanying document with further details and analysis of the data

all of the games they played, with the year they played them and the results with and without all or nothing coming into play

how often all or nothing came into play and who suggested it

the general impact of all or nothing

made by @organized-chaotic-disaster 

youtuber tours

(not necessarily dnp but it includes them!)

120 different tours, including the creators, names, dates, countries, links (if available) and producers (if applicable)

each tours’ venue capacity range, average and total attendance

individual tour show breakdown with city, state, country and additional notes

data on each venue’s capacity, number of tours, and which youtuber went to each venue

data on each country’s amount of shows, broken down into states and cities

made by @stillarchivingdnp 

gamingmas 2023 schedule

all gamingmas video titles from 2023

the time each video was uploaded in gmt

made by @cactuslester

spreadsheet screenshots in posts

listening trends in all or nothing

scatter graph for the correlation between track number and number of listens

analysis of the data

made by @serendipnpipity

analysis of dnp’s letterboxd ratings and movies with part 1 and part 2

(pt 1) rating distributions for all the movies they’ve rated, including details about which movies one rated higher than the other, and which movies they rated the same

(pt 1) a list of their five-star movies

(pt 1) a list of movies one logged but not the other

(pt 1) cute little misc notes about the specific movies and dates

(pt 2) ratings broken down into genre, studio and franchise with accompanying bar charts

made by @philsrosesweatshirt

views on post-hiatus dapg videos after specific time frames

i believe this is a work of progress!

video titles with the dates and months, along with details of whether they were sponsored or had external editors

view count after 24 hours, 48 hours, 1 week, 2 weeks, 3 months and 6 months

made by @goldenpinof

favourite dnp tour song statistics

years phannies started watching vs the year they joined the phandom represented in a bar graph

favourite dnp tour song in a donut pie graph and a bar graph

favourite song vs year joined represented in a bar graph

made by @serendipnpipity

terrible influence: the tour trailer video analysis

all the videos that appear in terrible influence with additional notes

the list sorted by date, view count and channel specifics

timestamps provided for each clip, both in the video and where they appear in the trailer

made by @emojackolantern

[taekooktimeline]

Hello 👋🏽

I’ve completed uploading episodes 1-4 of “are you sure” 🥳It goes without saying, but this is a Taekook focused blog so all of these posts, just like all my other posts, highlight Taekook and their bond (or in some instances, my posts archive important pieces of information so others can’t distort facts).

I wanted to upload episode 3 as one post, and episode 4 as one post, but Tumblr wouldn’t let that happen due to their sizes. When I shrank photos to make each episode one post, text and images became blurred and my OCD couldn’t stand it. I hate that they each have 2 posts, but I preferred it to the alternative of unreadable pieces.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever gone in depth about the uploading process? It’s quite an undertaking for long pieces. I first draft the posts in Google docs. This can take days as I rewatch things, chat with friends and gather what people have noticed from my timeline. One episode can take 3-4 hours to watch, as I draft as I go and then go back through and fill in further, then tighten it all up.

After this, I upload the draft into Word Press. It’s not straightforward anymore. When I copy and paste the draft into WP, only the text follows. I have to then go back to Google docs and copy / paste the pictures one by one, and then add the timestamps and hyperlinks under these pictures.

Once that’s done, I convert the post into HTML code. I can’t simply hit “select all.” I have to drag my finger down the entire post and carefully hit copy, or else I erase the whole post (which has happened). I then copy / paste the HTML code into my email and email it to myself.

From there, I copy / paste the code and upload it into Tumblr. Tumblr won’t let me post more than 30 photos a post now, sadly, which means splitting posts up. I have to read the HTML code and decide where to break things up.

I upload the post, then reblog it to its respective year, so you can read the post in the “main” timeline, but also in chronological order in the year it happened. When it’s reblogged to its year of occurrence, I have to scroll to events that happened around that date to determine what backdate to make that piece, so it lands in the correct spot of the timeline.

Uploading these posts took me all morning. Factoring in drafting, I spent at least 2-2.5 days on these episodes.

I’m not sure why I felt like sharing that today, except that I wanted to really take a moment and sincerely thank anyone who stops by to read my blog and let you know it’s so appreciated. Even if no one read this blog, I archive Taekook’s moments as one way of supporting them. I really enjoy preserving their moments - we have so many! - and looking back fondly.

So I’d do it no matter if no one read this, but knowing people do read this blog and treasure it as much as I do means so much to me. I’m thankful for the friendships formed, the people I’ve been able to talk to and some I’ve been fortunate to meet in real life, and it’s all thanks to this blog.

Not only that, my anxiety gets the best of me. I greatly admire those who tweet on Twitter, or post on Instagram, without giving much thought. I can’t do it. I wish I could. I will sit on posts, get anxious, bail out of posting, or post then mute because I’m so tense. I’m not sure why that is. Sometimes I wish my accounts were smaller so I could maybe feel more comfortable freely speaking my mind. But I also think I’d be anxious no matter what because social media is so toxic and dark and my energy can’t stand it. It doesn’t help I’m still trying to figure out my medical mysteries, and that’s been such a drain on my energy. I can’t find it in me to do much more than lurk on Twitter and IG right now.

Here on tumblr, I feel like I’m in my little safe space. It’s quiet here, I post my pieces and show my support, and my support is measured in a more meaningful way for who I am as a person (in addition to streaming, buying their merch etc). I really am so grateful for this space. We all support in our ways and though I wish I was bolder on TW and IG, I appreciate those who are and I also appreciate that we are all here to equally love and support Tae and Jk. That’s what matters.

So if you’re reading this, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here and reading this blog💜💚

[damnmmmmmmmmmm]

🧃🚨 AnnaBitch’s Easter Breakdown:

A Case Study in Desperate PR and Delusional GPS

So after hours of reverse image searching like a CSI tech, tracking airport transfers, monitoring the weather like a retired boomer in Florida, and doing flight math like I was calculating a space launch — I have come to a conclusion. Yes, I’m insane. Yes, I’m a Scorpio. We don’t let things go, we collect chaos like Pokémon, and we require answers with cold, hard evidence and timestamps.

Because AnnaBitch? This chick just tried to convince the internet she’s teleporting across Scandinavia to seduce a man who’s clearly busy being gainfully employed — and I’m here to call bullshit.

✝️ The Long Easter Weekend Where AnnaBitch Tried to One-Up Jesus

So here’s what happened. Strap in.

On Good Friday, Variety publishes a sweet piece on Sebastian’s dad. Touching, right? But then out of nowhere, AnnaBitch slithers into the article like a parasite — her name thrown in like a used tissue. Girl, sit down. It’s not about you.

Next, she reposts the magazine cover to her story with a "red heart" like she wasn’t just shoehorned in there for SEO clicks. Cute attempt. You’re not subtle and you’re definitely not clever.

Then Saturday, People Magazine comes through like the PR lapdog it’s always been, dropping a fluff piece that regurgitates the same “Seb mentioned her” line. (Spoiler: He barely did.) It’s like watching someone scream "I’m relevant!" into a void filled with people blocking her story.

📉 Follower Free-Fall & Deuxmoi Fanfiction

Let’s not ignore the hard truth: even with this PR flood, AnnaBitch is hemorrhaging followers. She’s dropping hundreds by the day. The general public isn’t falling for the soft-focus stories and desperate reposts. So what does she do?

Cue Deuxmoi, always ready to post someone’s delusions. Suddenly, we’re hit with an “anonymous��� tip claiming AnnaBitch and Seb were seen in Amsterdam on Easter Sunday. Like Seb flew out of rural Norway in the middle of filming just to take a sad canal walk with her? Okay, teleportation queen. I guess time and space don’t apply to you.

And then on Easter Monday, her friend posts a crusty, irrelevant photo of Seb wearing a shirt from her brand like it’s supposed to be proof of something.

🎬 Meanwhile, in Reality: Seb Was Working

Meanwhile, back on Earth: Sebastian is still in Norway, working on a film with spotty signal — something his actual co-star confirmed. He didn’t attend The Thunderbolts premiere, because he's still working.

So you expect me to believe he skipped a Marvel premiere but flew to Amsterdam for a Sunday Stroll? Lmao. Be serious.

And then Deuxmoi posts a shaky video of two blobs walking in the distance, claiming it’s “Seb and AnnaBitch.” Sis, you could’ve told me that was Bigfoot and the Easter Bunny, and it would’ve been just as convincing.

💋 And THEN Comes the Cheating Rumor

Just when we think this PR clown car can’t hold another stunt — BOOM — a Twitter rumor drops: AnnaBitch was seen kissing a man who is not Sebastian. I’m not even shocked at this point. Honestly? It’s the first believable thing that’s happened all weekend.

And how does she follow that up? She tries to reclaim the narrative by posting videos today from allegedly Norway.

One from the Faroe Islands around 11AM. Another from Rauma at 2PM. Cute try, but geography isn’t on your side, babe. These two locations are nowhere near each other, and no, you can’t “hop” between them in three hours unless you’re strapped to a Falcon 9 rocket.

Add to that the weather receipts? The lighting, the skies — they match the local forecasts perfectly. Meaning the videos weren’t taken within hours of each other. They were taken on different days. Maybe not even by her. Maybe sent by Sebastian’s team because she begged hard enough.

🗣️ The Desperation is Deafening

Let’s be real. All of this? It’s not a love story. It’s a PR panic spiral.

AnnaBitch wants people to believe she’s with Sebastian because she has nothing else to cling to. Her career? Mid. Her public image? Imploding. Her follower count? Plummeting like crypto in 2022.

She thought a little coordinated PR blitz, some bullshit sightings on a non-credited gossip blog, and a few passive-aggressive stories would convince us that she’s still relevant, still connected, still important. But instead?

She just exposed how not in the picture she really is.

So no, Succubus. You’re not “in Norway with Seb.” You’re in delusion, and your PR team needs a raise (and a reality check).

Scorpio-certified. Case closed.

[mrchill]

Your work is amazing, i love your vertical analog series. I have some questions.

How do you get the models to be so comfortable and how long normally a session takes?

The photos are taken in their homes?

Any Photo that you are particularly proud of?

How do you feel looking back at your first works?

Nude photography is a niche that get easily misunderstood, how do you feel about the relation of pornography and your work?

Thank you for your work!

Thank you for your kind anonymous message (and questions !). The more I practice analog photography, the more I love this expensive inimitable medium.

How do you get the models to be so comfortable and how long normally a session takes?

To pose can be intimidating for some people, as meeting new people can be for me. Since I started photography I've always made a habit to meet the people who wants to work with me before the session. In a nice café, to introduce ourselves and add a little background. I think it's important (and natural) to take some time to get to know each other a little, talk about our respective motivations, throw ideas and share what we have in mind for the session ahead. It may sounds easy to say but here is the truth : don't be a dick. Be true (to yourself and to others), be transparent, be mindful and respectful with people sharing their personal & inspiring time with you. Suggest, never impose. From a benevolent and sincere attitude might unfold an ideal creative environment packed with spontaneous moments, where the mood feels more authentic. More natural. With a proper soul you know. My sessions usually last several hours. The whole afternoon is ideal. I'm not in a rush, while following the sun I take my time and let things naturally fall into place. For me, it's another key element for relaxed atmospheres where models may feel confortable.

The photos are taken in their homes?

It depends. Many of my photos over the last five years have been taken in my place. But when it's feasible, I would prefer to work in people's place. This, allows me to work in a different light and scenery. It also brings a different and proper vibe, where the person is in control of her personal space and might feel more confortable with posing.

Any photo that you are particularly proud of?

The photos between the photos will always be my personal favorites. Otherwise there are many. Like the shots I consider as a timestamp of my personal learning progression. Those where I discovered a certain way to compose and frame the scene, specific details etc. While staying consistent with the way I notice things and the way to properly highlight them. It always has been complicated for me to explain this clearly. Despite the fact that I'm very critical & picky with my own works, I'm proud of it. I know it can be perceived as arrogance, but in my opinion, creative self-confidence can be quite rare. It's important to be satisfied of what you did/do. So if you are, be proud of it. It's the best feeling. It also might be a part of what keeps you doing the things you like love, right ? And for all of that *excessive hand gestures* I will be forever grateful to the inspiring folks I had the opportunity to meet and who make this *excessive hand gestures* possible.

How do you feel looking back at your first works?

I do feel great and have particular affection for my first clumsily satured works. I see what I corrected, what I don't do anymore, what I developed, what directions I have taken since, how my "left eye" and my compositions have become more precise too, etc.

Nude photography is a niche that get easily misunderstood, how do you feel about the relation of pornography and your work?

Everyone has their own sensibility, their own relationship with the body and places their own cursor where they feel it. According to my personal approach of intimate photography and my perception of the human figure, I simply don't consider my work linked to pornographic material. Nudity (and by extension intimacy) doesn't necessary imply pornography. It is indeed commonly misunderstood due to its surprinsingly complex and very large scope. Each person's subjectivity also comes into play. Without ignoring the way our society for ages has been treating female body image. By objectifying it. By demonizing it. By selling it. Another surely passionating but kinda depressing subject. There is still a long way to go.

Voilà ! I hope my answers will be clear enough for everyone. I apologize in advance for any typos or syntactic errors. Thanks again for these interesting questions. It feels great to share thoughts about photography and stuff.

Photography is the best thing in life. Take care.

[most-tragic-character-tournament]

So,

What a wild ride, everybody.

This tournament went live on July 13th, 3023, and concluded January 1st, 2024. For a long time before, I’d been wondering if I should try my hand at running one of these tournaments, and then I realized we hadn’t had a general tumblr-wide one for tragic characters. I knew that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I decided to bite the bullet and take the URL. The rest is history.

I didn’t have a set plan, but I figured I could take 128 entries. And then in less than a week and a half, I had ~122. And honestly, I wasn’t happy continuing with just those I’d gotten so far, and thought it’d be unfair if it closed that quickly without warning, so I decided to up it to 256 with a max 2 characters per canon after preliminaries. Only after that did I go on a mad search to find brackets that were big enough for that, and I’d almost given up before I finally found these:

Those are all the characters that made it past prelims and into the competition. Some quite unexpected results came out of these matchups, round after round, and honestly I’d consider the first round to have had the most brutal competitions, because I had tried to do the best I could to match levels of popularity with each other, as far as I could tell. (Yeah, that’s why we had c!Tommy v Jon Sims and Primrose v Jinx.). But even eclipsing all of those, as the weeks went on, we were eventually met with Antigone versus Lloyd Garmadon. Ah, those crazy kids.

At some points it was stressful, in the early rounds when I had dozens of posts, each with edited images and alt text, to prepare for every round, but I never regretted starting this. As of posting, this blog has 2,020 followers and has made over 1,000 posts. This will be the last post on this blog—any future asks I receive I will answer privately back to the asker, or cannot be answered if they are anon—but it will always remain here for posterity. The link below is to the similarly-preserved google sheet compiling every word of every submission this tournament ever received.

I’d like to take this chance to say thank you to everyone who submitted characters, supplied photos, sent in propaganda, reblogged the polls, indoctrinated their teachers into greeklitsweep, and everyone who kept good sportsmanship when their blorbos proved so tragic they couldn’t even win. Thank you to the small group of URLs whom I’ve consistently recognized in my inbox from submissions all the way to finals, thank you for letting me know when a name was messed up, and thank you for your patience in-between rounds. (Shoutout to @elemom as well for having their tiktok on the original antigone/lloyd poll blow up.)

If you’ve stumbled upon this blog weeks, months, or even years after this was posted, I would direct your attention to the tag map in the pinned post to sift through the tumblr history you’ve just uncovered. And I would also be tempted to point at the big sign next to it reciting the nuclear zone warning poem. Lastly, if anyone here or there wishes to talk to me about anything regarding the tournament, you’re welcome to DM @twilight-skies.

There were times when I said to myself this was a one-and-done thing—I was NOT dealing with this again, but….keep a look on the horizon, ya never know.

But until next time, it’s been amazing.

Sayonara you weeaboo shits.

[pix4japan]

Blossoms and Blurs: Evening at Gumyoji Temple's Gate・仁王門から弘明寺の本堂へ続く石段には上りと桜が

Location: Gumyoji, Minami Ward, Yokohama, Japan Timestamp: 18:19・2024/04/09

Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter ISO 160 for 10 sec. at ƒ/11 Classic Negative film simulation

This photograph captures the Niōmon Gate of Gumyoji Temple, the oldest Buddhist temple in Yokohama, during a tranquil evening.

Taken from the top of the stone staircase, the shot showcases the historic gate illuminated softly in the background, while cherry blossoms frame the scene with their delicate petals. The image employs a long exposure technique, resulting in the ethereal blur of the nobori flags along the stairs, which add a dynamic element to the otherwise calm and serene composition.

The subtle play of light and shadow highlights the intricate details of the temple architecture and the surrounding foliage, creating a compelling contrast between the past and present.

Shot with a Fujifilm X100V camera and a standard wide-angle lens (equivalent to 35mm on a full-frame sensor), this photo encapsulates the beauty and peaceful ambiance of Gumyoji Temple at dusk.

Check out the full write-up here: https://www.pix4japan.com/blog/20240409-nobori (2-minute read), which cites sources and a provides a glossary.

[pompadourpink]

hi mom! i'm starting uni in september, i'm moving to a new city so i need to start shopping and all, but also my parents didnt really give me advice and im the eldest so im kinda lost, do you have any advice?? XX

Hello darling,

The ABC:

Uni is scary: freedom goes from 8 to 90 in two months, and it is intoxicating. Making up for lost chances can lead to bad choices (spending, dating, partying).

Parent yourself if needed: autonomy is essential. Learn to cook, budget, clean, be clean, save, be a good citizen, make scary phone calls, keep yourself safe, and prioritise.

No one will force you to get up and study, or hire a 21-year-old dropout you instead of a fiery 18-year-old. Effort will not betray you (being an ageing lazy gifted child will).

Have shared hobbies, from movie Sundays with a friend to knitting with your sister. A social life is a happy life.

Trust your body, it knows. Stomach cramps mean we hate him, daydreaming means try, yawning means bed (not coffee).

The home:

Make a cleaning schedule, be open-minded and reasonable, do not do/say anything the landlord wouldn't like (I fully recommend having roommates once for exposure therapy).

Bribe a nice neighbour with food. Having that phone number will one day mean not sleeping outside or getting a package stolen.

Document problems right away (photos, timestamps, screenshots, testimonies), as you may need to take action later. No emotions, you're just "worried about everyone's wellbeing".

Mould, vermin and leaks are enemies. Act yesterday.

Avoid big purchases. You don't know the future (location, size, taste). Go secondhand, natural (wood/glass), neutral, practical.

Avoid silly purchases: streaming, takeout, drinks, fast-fashion; you will not regret having a downpayment saved in ten years.

If you need to do emergency laundry, put a bin/bucket in the shower, add water and detergent (+ soda crystal for stains or whitening), mix, wait, rinse well, hang it.

The shopping:

My grandmother has kept her house clean with a squeegee broom wrapped in a floorcloth and Marseille soap since the 60s. When something doesn't work, look back.

Must-haves: cleaning (#1, cloths, soda, Castile soap, steel wool), hygiene (scraper, net, shower head filtre, first aid), night (good pillow, plugs, mask) supplies, freezer if possible, water filtre, reusable period protection, winter clothes, long chargers, sunscreen, friend living at home who will lend you tools.

Must-not-haves: trends, collections (even books), a pet - don't let Felix keep you back, sleep over and study in Paris!

Have an emergency kit (+ whatever you need) + a smaller version in the car/at the office (with cash).

Fresh fruit, starches, frozen vegetables, cans of legumes, fresh, canned and frozen protein, a treat, something fun once in a while to experiment + a bimonthly outing.

Formal outfits. Large black dress pants, white shirt, dark grey thin jumper, pencil skirt, blazer, large coat, trench coat, loafers, tall boots. Not tight or slouchy, comfy, plain, natural fabrics.

Craigslist, Facebook marketplace, thrift stores. Make a Pinterest 'perfect home' board instead of letting yourself be fed by social media and stores.

The social life:

Make one or two real friends and cherish them forever. Support each other, travel, buy a house together, idk.

Don't be afraid to exist alone - you shouldn't fear what your head has to say.

Take advantage of what's free.

Don't miss out on huge opportunities for people. Some are around out of necessity and will ghost you after graduation.

Do not try to impress, especially those you don't like and who don't like you. Do not do or say anything cops wouldn't like. Be a homebody who doesn't drink if that's what you want.

Do not try to educate those who will not learn.

Do not befriend someone who fully lacks confidence. Those relationships will be one-sided and exhausting.

Befriend older ladies. They will see through the lies of men, classmates, and employers trying to fool you.

The love life:

The thirty-two-year-old man doesn't find you mature; he sees a willing blank canvas. Do not.

If a date mocks you and you get mad, either that is who he is, or he hates you. Your job is not to pretend you don't care so he can have a girlfriend.

Ask yourself if you would tell your friend, mother, or Taylor Swift that they should lower their standards. If not, take a break from dating and think about why you think you don't deserve respect.

Don't forgive what you don't want to tolerate.

No nudes. Never nudes.

Don't try to force a relationship with someone who has made it clear that he is not interested. You will be played like a fiddle until he meets someone he wants.

Don't try communicating with someone who is messing with you on purpose. No one ignores you for three days or breaks your favourite necklace after an argument by accident. Also, your husband would never.

The daily life:

Keep an official e-mail address (firstname.lastname) + a casual one (f.lastna), a solid password (Lanadelrey1984#) changed yearly, and a list of usernames/accounts and auto-generated passwords.

If you don't trust your parents, block them from your account or open a new one when you turn 18 before they rob you.

Save a year's worth of expenses, don't purchase what you couldn't buy twice now, don't replace what still works, thrift/swap, and think for a week before spending.

Get folders for your paperwork + scan them onto an encrypted Drive (not iCloud): diplomas, flat, car, work, taxes, health, etc.

Print pictures and make albums before the app disappears.

Prioritise health. Exercise (cardio/strength, ex: runs/weighted Pilates), walk, drink more, sleep, eat fibre, take vitamin D, mind your eyes/ears/skin/teeth, stretch, and leave if needed.

Only invest energy, money, or time into what is worth it. FaceTime before the date, get secondhand leather boots instead of replacing plastic biyearly, drop the book after 100 bad pages.

Refuse advice from people whose lives you wouldn't want, who happily overwork for a mediocre wage and don't know who their children are. These handcuffs are homemade.

The job:

People will not forget how you made them feel, and the world is small. Colleagues, clients, and bosses will gossip: make sure it is for a good reason. Dress and look clean, stand straight, be on time, and never gossip, even when you are wronged.

Understand the power of sobriety. Be known for your projects and LinkedIn CV, not your bright skirts and temper.

Protect Future You to secure the next step. No friends, no enemies. Smile, stay neutral and calm, listen, move on, make your IG private, Google your name.

Lie. You don't avoid them, you eat lunch with your nana (hi Paula, no, I forgot she's at the hairdresser's); weren't unemployed, your father was ill; cannot go out, you have a birthday party.

Act boring with jealous old women and obnoxious men: take the fake compliment for a real one, don't understand the innuendo, have too much work to chat. Bullies get bored.

Instead of clapping back (see #3), be Cinderella, who overlooks insults and asks Ethel if she is alright, maybe she needs to talk?

Sites to look up: Proton (mail, VPN, drive), Notion.

Love,

Mum

(PS - apologies if the she/he thing doesn't match you, this is a flexible plan for all of my children)

[upmala]

i had the stupidest computer problem in which i wanted to show my friends the photos from Scotland, but the combined files from my phone and camera didn’t add up chronologically - because the phone automatically adjusted time zone (a setting which must be enabled, or the microsoft teams app won’t work - an idiocy in its own right), but the camera did not. those familiar with windows may be aware that it’s possible to edit file properties, including Date Taken - sure, it’d be annoying to have to add one hour to several dozen pictures, but we’ve been through worse manual tasks. however, windows will only let you edit the Date part of the Date Taken timestamp.

cue a random answer on a Windows forum, where the original asker replied to their own question after the official representative, as always, failed to be helpful in any way, linked BulkFileEditor, a file editor that literally had “Add + hours” AND supported editing multiple files at once.

the old-fashioned UI took a minute to parse, so used as i was to modern material UI chromium fork apps, but the person behind the program made it very straightforward. only a few minutes later, all the photos were in beautiful chronological order, ready to be viewed on whatever doubtlessly old and sad device my tech-averse partner had at home.

as i was closing all the tabs after this needlessly complicated journey, i noticed that the appropriately 2008 looking website of this programmer (which listed a whole plethora of other small programs) had a Donate button. curious as to how they chose to implement it, i clicked. only two fields: amount and currency. what the heck, this person saved me quite some frustration today. €3. the Donate button led to Paypal - so simple. Nir Sofer, if you read this, i hope you get yourself a little snack.

[pizzaqueen]

Steve Harrington time stamps

For when you just want to watch Steve’s scenes

I had the idea to do this during my current rewatch thanks to @harmonictechnicality (who was very happy for me to post this) and then @al-ghoul sent me his timestamps so a HUGE thank you there!

Oh, and @faequeentitania has a supercut of all of Eddie's scenes (link is in their bio) so I didn’t add Eddie’s time stamps to this post

My original intention was to not post this until it was completely done, but I honestly don't have much energy right now, so there are only time stamps up to S04E05. But I do intend to finish it one day! (If anyone wants to help out with the remaining ones, that would be great.) You can also see where the formatting changes and that's where I stopped typing up my notes and just used what @al-ghoul sent me, but I do want to reformat it so it's uniform, and add in songs used for his scenes, but I just wanted to get this out there

And I want to say sorry if someone has already done something like this in the meantime! I tried searching but Tumblr search isn't great

SEASON ONE

Chapter One: The Vanishing of Will Byers

14:54 - 16:07 Steve’s first appearance in his rendezvous with Nancy in the bathroom

37:59 - 38:42 Mike sees Steve trying to climb through Nancy’s window

41:04 - 43:12 helping Nancy study

Chapter Two: The Weirdo on Maple Street

12:26 - 14:04 asking Nancy to the party at his house (mention of his parents); the scene cuts to Nancy and Jonathan at 13:20 but you can still see Steve in the background until 14:04

38:17 - 38:37 opening the door for Nancy and Barb (song: Raise a Little Hell by Trooper*)

43:06 - 45:39 pool scene with the drinking, etc., with Tommy H, Carol, Nancy and Barb (song: I Melt With You by Modern English)

49:18 - 49:40 drying off and going upstairs

50:22 - 51:18 we see Steve and Nancy through the window from Jonathan’s POV then it cuts to inside Steve’s room

52:36 - 52:50 getting hot and heavy with Nancy (song: tiniest snippet of the opening strains of Hazy Shade of Winter by The Bangles)

*seems to be playing inside Steve’s house because it’s muffled and gets louder when he opens the doors

Chapter Three: Holly, Jolly

00:40 - 1:50 sleeping with Nancy, intercut with Barb being killed (song: Waiting for a Girl Like You by Foreigner)

3:03 - 3:50 Nancy tries to wake Steve, then leaves

10:16 - 11:11 at Nancy’s locker

20:48 - 21:56 cafeteria with Tommy H, Carol and Nancy

30:07 - 32:16 confronting Jonathan about photos

36:01 - 36:43 waiting for the game in the hallway with Tommy H, Carol and Nancy; Nancy leaves

Chapter Four: The Body

13:16 - 14:30 meeting Nancy between buildings; asks her not to tell the cops about the beer (mention of parents)

Chapter Five: The Flea and the Acrobat

25:47 - 27:51 Steve shows up at Nancy’s to say sorry and invite her to the movies (mention of parents; song: Steve singing a bit of Old Time Rock and Roll)

Chapter Six: The Monster

3:29 - 4:45 driving to Nancy’s with Tommy H and Carol; sees Jonathan and Nancy on bed through window (song: Sunglasses at Night by Corey Hart*)

30:46 - 33:18 alley fight with Jonathan

* playing on the car stereo

Chapter Seven: The Bathtub

14:21 - 16:00 Tommy brings Steve a can of Coke and painkillers; Steve has fight with Tommy and Carol then drives off

18:40 - 19:21 offers to help scrub graffiti off cinema marquee

Chapter Eight: The Upside Down

14:42 - 17:03 comes to Jonathan’s to say sorry; gets introduced to the upside down shenanigans

18:53 - 22:00 Nancy gives Steve an out; he runs, then he comes back (it cuts to Hopper and Joyce at 21:18 for a couple of seconds)

22:27 - 23:50 following the lights with Nancy and Jonathan that Joyce and Hopper are lighting up as they go through the UD version (intercut with scenes of Joyce and Hopper)

48:01 - 48:24 epilogue snuggling on couch with Nancy in Christmas sweater

SEASON TWO

Chapter One: Madmax

12:13 - 14:02 Nancy looking over Steve’s essay in the car outside the school (song: Talking in Your Sleep by The Romantics)

20:09 - 20:38 waiting by the corner in the hallway to pick Nancy up and twirl her around by the lockers

31:38 - 33:50 dinner with Nancy at Barb’s parents

Chapter Two: Trick or Treat, Freak

15:58 - 19:22 studying in the library with Nancy/Steve is worried about the government if they talk too much about what happened and suggests going to party and pretend everything is normal (between 17:15 to 17:36 it cuts to Nancy thinking she sees Barb)

31:23 - 32:17 Tommy H and Billy come over while Steve is with Nancy at the party; Tommy H: “We’ve got a new keg king, Harrington.” (Song: Shout at the Devil by Mötley Crüe)

42:03 - 44:14 dancing with Nancy (song Girls on Film by Duran Duran)/spills drink on her/bathroom ‘bullshit’ scene

Chapter Three: The Pollywog

19:11 - 21:14 playing basketball against Billy (Song: Go! By Tones on Tail) and talking with Nancy between the buildings

Chapter Four: Will the Wise

16:23 - 17:53 basketball again (Song: Scarface (Push it to the Limit) from Scarface) and the shower scene with Tommy H and Billy

Chapter Five: Dig Dug

35:17 - 35:52 shows up to Nancy’s with flowers and is waylaid by Dustin

Chapter Six: The Spy

00:51 - 3:43 In car with Dustin (song: Hammer to Fall by Queen*) going to kill Dart with bat

12:39 - 13:06 bringing meat with Dustin

24:51 - 27:34 laying trap for Dart with Dustin (meat on the railroad tracks) and talking about girls

31:48 - 32:37 at the junkyard with Dustin

33:10 - 33:21 at the junkyard with Dustin, Lucas and Max

35:27 - 35:38 fortifying the bus/setting stuff up at the junkyard

35:49 - 36:02 pouring gasoline

36:48 - 37:01 going into the bus

37:44 - 38:24 inside the bus; flicking the lighter

40:46 - 45:06 demodogs appear; Steve goes out as bait/to fight them

* playing on the car stereo

Chapter Seven: The Lost Sister

Doesn’t appear in this episode

Chapter Eight: The Mind Flayer

08:35 - 10:33 walking from the junk yard with kids at night, looking for Dart on the train tracks

13:27 - 13:56 in front of Hawkins lab; meet up with Nancy and Jonathan

15:15 - 15:45 in front of the lab

16:15 - 16:21 gate opens

21:58 - 22:22 waiting at gate; Hopper picks them up

23:06 - 23:42 at the Byers’

24:43 - 29:03 in Byers’ kitchen; Steve is in and out of the frame/sometimes in the background

29:23 - 29:55 duct-taping the shed with Nancy

31:51 - 32:07 finishing the shed with everyone

33:05 - 33:10 practicing with a bat at Byers'

34:32 - 34:35 blinking lights at Byers’

38:52 - 39:16 morse code

40:31 - 40:56 “close gate”

41:31 - 41:37 hearing demodogs

42:15 - 44:34 preparing to fight/El arrives

S02E09:

00:07:23 Steve (at Byers with everyone) (00:08:03)

00:09:08 Steve (at Byers backyard with Nancy) (00:10:02)

00:10:50 Steve (on the Byers porch with kids) (00:11:06)

00:15:22 Steve (putting demodog in the fridge) (00:15:57)

00:16:17 Steve (at the Byers with the kids / Billy arrives) (00:19:09)

00:19:47 Steve (fighting Billy) (00:21:02)

00:24:41 Steve (waking up in the car with Max) (00:25:54)

00:26:43 Steve (arriving to the tunnels) (00:28:17)

00:30:00 Steve (at the tunnels) (00:31:42)

00:33:40 Steve (torching the tunnels while Will burns) (00:34:43)

00:36:52 Steve (running through the tunnels) (00:36:59)

00:38:00 Steve (freeing Mike / meeting Dart) (00:39:38)

00:40:16 Steve (running out of the tunnels) (00:41:19)

00:43:40 Steve (gate closed) (00:43:44)

00:45:19 Steve (at the Barb's funeral) (00:45:27)

00:48:51 Steve (driving Dustin to the Snow Ball) (songs: Love is a Battlefield by Pat Benatar and Twist of Fate by Olivia Newton-John*) (00:50:10)

*both are playing inside the Snow Ball Edit: actually the Pat Benatar song seems to be coming from his car on re-watching 😅 it definitely sounded like from inside the building to me before but now it doesn’t

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

S03E01:

00:09:15 Steve (letting the kids through Scoops Ahoy back door) (00:09:40)

00:10:46 Steve (lights go out) (00:11:01)

00:12:12 Steve (lights go back) (00:12:18)

00:24:42 Steve (Scoops Ahoy with Robin, hitting on ladies) (00:26:46)

S03E02:

00:10:15 Steve (Scoops Ahoy with Dustin) (00:12:34)

00:17:52 Steve (translating Russian with Dustin) (00:19:24)

00:35:27 Steve (Robin translated first Russian) (00:35:54)

00:41:26 Steve (mall after hours with Robin and Dustin) (00:43:37)

S03E03:

00:17:23 Steve (spying for spies in the mall with Dustin) (00:19:19)

00:27:12 Steve (found a sport fitness "spy" with Dustin) song: Wake Me Up Before you Go-Go by Wham!* (00:28:32)

00:29:20 Steve (with Dustin returning to Scoop Ahoy) (00:29:26)

00:30:03 Steve (Robin cracked the code) (00:30:12)

00:39:20 Steve (in the rain looking at delivery) (00:40:30)

*playing in the jazzercise class

S03E04:

00:09:04 Steve (Scoops Ahoy, devising a plan) 00:10:08

00:21:14 Steve (Robin brings Starcourt blueprints) (00:22:58)

00:24:32 Steve (bringing Erica into the plan) (00:25:11)

00:34:51 Steve (Erica goes into the vent) (00:35:05)

00:36:22 Steve (Erica got to the room) (00:37:00)

00:40:28 Steve (opening the boxes with the team Scoops) (00:42:08)

S03E05:

00:00:07 Steve (the elevator room falling) (00:01:58)

00:16:25 Steve (stuck in / getting out of the elevator room) (00:19:46)

00:25:19 Steve (walking the tunnel) (00:27:16)

00:34:40 Steve (finding the russian base / fighting the guard) (00:37:01)

00:37:21 Steve (Robin found The Machine) (00:38:21)

S03E06:

00:00:14 Steve (being apprehended by russians) (00:01:48)

00:17:12 Steve (being beaten up / questioned by the russians) (00:20:21)

00:31:06 Steve (tied to a chair with Robin) (00:35:58)

00:45:25 Steve (truth serum kicks in / Dustin saves them) (00:48:50)

S03E07:

00:06:31 Steve (Dustin is driving away through the tunnel / elevator) (00:08:45)

00:13:13 Steve (running from the mall guards into the cinema) (00:14:04)

00:14:30-32 / 00:14:41-44 (tweedldee and tweedledum in the cinema)

00:23:19 Steve (drunk with Robin in the cinema hallway) (00:25:08)

00:28:27 Steve (confesses Robin in the cinema restroom) (00:35:02)

00:39:07 Steve (sneaking out of the restroom) (00:40:03)

00:48:50 Steve (hiding from mall guards under the counter) (00:49:16)

00:49:41 Steve (El defeated the guards) (00:50:51)

00:51:09-14 Steve (El collapses)

S03E08:

00:00:36 Steve (Eleven's fucked up leg) 00:01:25

00:02:50 Steve (El pulls the Flayer out of the leg) (00:03:16)

00:04:28 Steve (everyone is catching up on things) (00:05:11)

00:06:34 Steve (hanging around while everyone prepares) (00:06:43)

00:07:40 Steve (driving away from the mall) (00:08:10)

00:13:32 Steve (driving kids to the radio hill) (00:14:42)

00:17:50 Steve (on the radio hill) (00:18:19)

00:24:19 Steve (on the radio hill, Flayer attacks Starcourt) (00:25:12)

00:26:03 Steve (on the radio hill running back to the car) (00:26:14)

00:32:54 Steve (hitting Billy's car at Starcourt, Nancy's driving away) 00:33:35

00:34:39 Steve (Flayer pursues the car, Suzie appears) (00:34:50)

00:35:49-53 Steve (in the car while Dustin sings over the radio)

00:36:28-31 Steve (in the car while Dustin and Suzie both singing)

00:38:04 Steve (in the car while Flayer goes back to Starcourt)

00:42:29-34 Steve (throwing fireworks at the Flayer in the mall)

00:43:03-04 Steve (keeps throwing)

00:44:16-22 Steve (on the radio with Dustin)

00:50:33 Steve (Flayer disassembles) (00:50:43)

00:54:58-01 Steve (at the ER car in the background)

00:56:44 Steve (arriving with Robin at the Family Video for a job) (00:58:04)

00:58:55 Steve (bumping into the cardboard figure) (00:59:12)

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

S04E01:

00:15:24 Steve (in car with Robin) (00:16:58)

00:54:43 Steve (with Brenda at basketball game) (00:56:24)

S04E02:

00:07:56 Steve (at Family Video with Robin) (00:09:49)

00:28:13 Steve (at Family Video with Max & Dustin) (00:29:06)

00:44:58 Steve (at Family Video flirting / searching for Rick) (00:47:43)

01:01:45 Steve/Eddie (at Reefer Rick's) (01:06:14)

01:07:22 Eddie, Steve (talks about Chrissy / Vecna revealed) (01:12:30)

S04E03:

00:12:28 Eddie, Steve (receiving supplies at Rick's) (00:14:23)

00:15:14 Steve (at Fred's crime scene) (00:15:29)

00:25:29 Steve (with kids and Nancy discussing Vecna) (00:28:12)

00:38:21 Steve (outside shrink's house in the car) (00:39:28)

00:41:22 Steve (driving away from the shrink) (00:41:33)

00:42:00 Steve (driving the car while Lucas radioes) (00:42:43)

00:50:53 Steve (breaking into school shrink's office at night) (00:51:38)

00:55:54 Steve (at the shrink's office) (00:56:53)

S04E04:

00:02:09 Steve (school after Max's episode, Nancy and Robin arrive) (00:04:50)

00:07:29 Steve (the Wheeler's house - Max writes letters, Nancy and Robin arrive) (00:10:44)

00:17:35 Steve (Max finished the letters, wants to go) (00:20:04)

00:31:33 Steve (driving Max to the trailer park) (00:31:53)

00:34:35-49 Steve (Max returns to the car)

00:48:17 Steve (driving Max to the cemetery) (00:49:00)

01:02:32 Steve (going for Max at the cemetery) (01:03:04)

01:03:17 Steve (trying to wake Max up) (01:03:35)

01:04:58-07 Steve (with Dustin and Lucas trying to wake Max up)

01:09:01-12 Steve (Dustin brings music to Max)

01:10:45 Steve (everyone searching for the tape) (01:11:06)

01:11:50-00 Steve (Max flies)

01:13:43 Steve (Max is out) (01:14:14)

S04E05:

00:14:32 Steve (sleeping in Wheeler's basement) (00:14:38)

00:36:19 Steve (arriving at Creel's house with everyone) (00:40:06)

00:49:55 Steve (checking Creel's house with DNR) (00:52:36)

[zeldabecameaqueen]

just got my "youtube gaming stats"

i won't go through it all, just wanted to point one thing out:

English summary : I'm top 0.2% of the BadBoyHalo's vod channel viewers (it's also written that I watched it 59 times more than average)

my excuse is:

this guy doesn't get any sleep ok, he streamed the qsmp every day, 10 hours a day, for a whole year. I decided - i don't know why - that i would not only watch his vods entirely but that i would also add timestamps under each video, and save every in-game photo he took (which makes the process of watching his streams way longer)

so OF COURSE 60.7% of my time on YT is watching video games, and OF COURSE the main game I'm watching is Minecraft - and by Minecraft you can shortcut to QSMP cause i don't watch any other Minecraft content

oh and I decided to watch every single pov from the beginning of the qsmp, put timestamps when I could and save every in-game photos, so that's why I'm not top 0.1% viewer, I had other streams to check!

i'm not saying that I'm one of BBH's top fan, first because that's not true, plus I don't watch him live, what I'm saying is:

i'm OBSESSED with this server and I love it

and he was obsessed with the server and we loved it

and despite the server being closed for like 6 months now, there are still new fanarts and zines and animations, the community is still here, and i'm still jiggling each time i do or hear something about the qsmp

that's insane

i have to thank and send my hate to bbh for making those 10 hours stream, it swallows my whole life now that's neat

edit:

i almost never watch twitch so i was pretty shocked when I saw that I somehow watched 445h of bbh streams

i have no idea how many hours the regular bbh viewers got, but i guess it's a lot more, but for someone like me who never watches twitch i have NO IDEA where this number comes from

[paulgadzikowski]

I was looking for something the other day through the image files of stuff I've drawn for Tumblr over the years and got the impression that there was a steep decline in volume last year or maybe the last few years. But wait, the image files all have timestamps for filenames. I'm going to go through and see how may image files there are per year, and I'm taking you with me.

Now, not all the image filenames are timestamps. Stuff that's reprinted from the main Hero of Three Faces site gets a different filename format (and is in an altogether different subdirectory anyway); some stuff like the Lord of the Rings project also has its own filename format. And not all of the timestamp files are drawings; photo manipluations (the things tagged #i made this on both blogs) get timestamp filenames, but then those belong in this count really. Erring in the other direction, a few years in I started breaking up single strips that are more than two panels into more'n one file, because otherwise Tumblr image compression or whatever makes them fuzzy looking. So these aren't precise counts, we're just hunting trends.

2012 - 6

2013 - 63

2014 - 34

2015 - 51

2016 - 115

2017 - 129

2018 - 176

2019 - 273

2020 - 290

2021 - 333

2022 - 813

2023 - 884

2024 - 538

Well okay, last year was only a little over half each of the previous two years. But still almost twice the two years before that each.

And for all three of the most recent three years, there come out to much better'n one per day. Wow. Add this to my production at AKOTAS/Three Faces/Creative Process and the website I had before that, and I think I can after all still say in good faith, after giving up holding myself to it in 2016, that I've drawn an average of a cartoon a day since I started drawing dailies on notebook paper in 1976.

Those of you who followed me here because you liked the cartoons on my proper websites - enjoy!

[rbvcdeluxe]

Cinderella's Castle Masterpost

So, I thought I could make a CC masterpost for all the Starkid fans excited for the show. This post will be edited as we get new content by Starkid either it’s a livestream, a photo, YT video or anything else. If you see something missing, a wrong link or something you would like to see that isn't here, feel free to tell me so it can be added or fixed.

And again, this post will have a lot of constant edits for reasons like: New content, things added, fixes, and other stuff.

ALL UNDER THE CUT

First posts / announcing posts for CC's KICKSTARTER campaign on April 6th

March 23 — Instagram, Tumblr, Facebook

March 25 — Instagram, Tumblr, Facebook

March 27 — Instagram, Tumblr, Facebook

March 29 — Instagram, Tumblr, Facebook

March 30 — Tumblr, Youtube

April 2 — Facebook

April 4 — Instagram, Tumblr, Facebook

April 6 — Instagram, Tumblr, Facebook, Youtube (And another Tumblr one)

Cast reveal photos and videos

Bryce Charles as Ella Ashmore / $25K unlocked - Instagram, Tumblr, Youtube

Angela Giarratana as The Stepmother / $50K unlocked - Instagram, Tumblr, Youtube

James Tolbert as The Prince / $74K unlocked - Instagram, Tumblr, Youtube

Curt Mega as Tadius / $100K unlocked - Instagram, Tumblr, Youtube

Kim Whalen as The Fairy Queen of Sweet Dreams / $125K unlocked - Instagram, Tumblr, Youtube

Lauren Lopez as Rancilda / $150K unlocked - Instagram, Tumblr, Youtube

Mariah Rose Faith Casillas as Putrice / $175K unlocked - Instagram, Tumblr, Youtube

Jon Matteson as Sir-Hop-A-Lot / $200K unlocked - Instagram, Tumblr, Youtube

Joey Richter as Crumb / $225K unlocked - Instagram, Tumblr, Youtube

Jeff Blim as The Narrator / 250K unlocked - Instagram, Tumblr, Youtube

Fully funded Kickstarter video: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5e2QWoJq2v/?igsh=bnljZnQ2ZmN2OWFl

Add-on pack from the Kickstarter: Kickstarter, Instagram, Tumblr

Livestreams

April 6th. Other links about the livestream: A B C D

April 13th. Other links: A A2 B

April 20th. Other links: A B C

April 27th. Other Links: A, B

(No link for livestream of this one yet. Will be edited later.)

May 4th

Livestream Roadmap: Instagram, Tumblr, Facebook

Cinderella's Castle Demo Songs (from April 13th - Exploring The Lands That Are Livestream)

Timestamps:

Castle On A Hill: 10:43

Cursed Crazy: 33:46

Step On Your Grave: 1:19:54

Facade: 1:34:36

Last For Ever: 1:53:23

Neon: 2:22:17

Ever After: 2:34:56

Trappings of Starlight: 2:54:34

Ash To Ash: 2:59:41

4K demos: Castle On A Hill - Cursed Crazy

Too lazy to keep updating this. will do later lmao

[taekooktimeline]

End of June 2023 (filmed), April 7, 2024 (released):

Yoongi’s “D-DAY in Seoul” BB is released on YouTube! I’ve already covered Taekook attending in more extensive detail in the recap linked below, but I wanted to add a few more things. Hopping around together -

Timestamp 13:15

https://x.com/_k91230v_/status/1776942488634433605?s=46&t=StSwHjW0_Domk_lHUFMaCg

Jk looks at Tae and starts dancing. Tae then starts dancing the same dance -

https://x.com/euphoria_pie/status/1776917742727426162?s=46&t=StSwHjW0_Domk_lHUFMaCg

Members yell out, “Yoongi,” during the VCR while waiting for Yoongi to come back on stage (Jk is the last to shout his name in this moment, and just like I mentioned in my prior recap, I love that we can see his eyes smiling even with the mask) -

Tae claps in amusement -

Timestamp 14:00

Tae shouts, “Yoongi!” when it’s quiet, which causes him to get shy and walk in a circle around Jk while the crowd cheers.

Jk is adorably amused by this and endearingly laughs while watching Tae walk in his shy circle around him. (Side note - I enhanced the brightness of the last photo to better see Jk looks to his left and right to watch Tae) -

https://x.com/kookvtwins/status/1776916884065079446?s=46&t=StSwHjW0_Domk_lHUFMaCg

Taekook are seen sitting next to each other when Yoongi finishes his set and comes backstage. It’s always the little things for me! Jk playfully yells, “Yoongi,” before turning to Tae with a grin. Tae immediately mimics him and shouts his own, “Yoongi!”

https://x.com/_k91230v_/status/1776945093133717785?s=46&t=StSwHjW0_Domk_lHUFMaCg

Timestamp 16:38

While there isn't anything seemingly poignant going on in the below moment, I found this really domestic. Tae fiddles with a necklace while his body is turned into Jk, who’s snacking, but also has his body turned towards Tae. It’s the subtler moments like this that speak volumes about their closeness. Even during simpler tasks, such as this, there’s a need to be close to the other.

Timestamp 17:20

As we already know, Tae and Jk arrived and left together! They’re glued side to side as they exit, despite the space next to Tae. As others have noted, it does seem like they’d have held hands had the cameras not been around.

https://x.com/vantegifs/status/1776920442281902214?s=46&t=StSwHjW0_Domk_lHUFMaCg

https://x.com/ak74ecpgggsxrzu/status/1776926582340493766?s=46&t=StSwHjW0_Domk_lHUFMaCg

https://x.com/kookieantae4eva/status/1776985604867453070?s=46&t=StSwHjW0_Domk_lHUFMaCg

And some things never change between these two! Just like in years past, they decide to act out a skit, in this instance pretending to have just finished performing.

https://x.com/startksupporter/status/1776944053365485703?s=46&t=StSwHjW0_Domk_lHUFMaCg

https://x.com/yoowrites_/status/1776925280004944278?s=46&t=StSwHjW0_Domk_lHUFMaCg

Raw - https://youtu.be/MdoJUJGrYFE?si=tKeQNtsEB5PbAFPE

Recap of June 25, 2023 (when Jk, Tae and Jimin attended) - https://www.tumblr.com/taekooktimeline2023/721854010781483008/taekooktimeline-june-25-2023-taekook-attend