#. aes . killer within

[spiltcandycoatedpunkblood]

Hey!!! I'm Evan, a 29 year old white queer Australian-born punk who (unfortunately) lives in the UK.

I'm a queer greysexual gay aromantic polyamorous genderqueer unaligned trans man. I also use aroace mainly for trauma reasons.

I also use helian, novarian, stellarian and singularian under the galactian alignment system, and my gender is made up of my neurotypes, my attraction to men, favourite media and interests, and whatever I feel like at any given time.

My pronouns are:

he/him/his/himself

xe/xem/xyr/xemself (pronounced zee/zem/zir/zemself)

ae/aev/aev/aevself (pronounced e/eve/eve/eveself)

Please mix and match them, thanks.

I am an ND and chronically ill multiple trauma survivor; I have AuADHD, OCD, anxiety, addiction, agoraphobia, trust issues, abandonment issues, CPTSD & coeliac disease. I heavily use music to cope with my multiple disorders and regard my headphones and Spotify as disability aids.

This is what I look like.

Special interests: The Adventures of Tintin, Doctor Who, Sanders Sides (Thomas Sanders), DanAndPhilGAMES, Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of the War of the Worlds & guinea pigs.

Favourite musicians: Avril Lavigne, Linkin Park, The Birthday Massacre, The Pretty Reckless, Motion City Soundtrack, Ice Nine Kills, Delain, Within Temptation, Breaking Benjamin, RedHook, Em Beihold, Against The Current, Green Day, Jonathan Young, Caleb Hyles, ABBA, Paramore, Carpenters, Nickelback, Queen, Honey Revenge, Ashbury Heights, Stand Atlantic, Asking Alexandria, DanAndPhilBEATS, Lø Spirit, Senses & Icon For Hire.

I post about stuff like:

queer issues

social issues in general

selfies, vents and general life updates

a lot about the adventures of tintin (mainly the 2011 film)

memes

neurodivergent issues

occasionally cute animals with absolute favourites of mine like cats and guinea pigs (and small mammals in general, but mainly guinea pigs)

my fanfiction from ao3 under kivancalcite

my favourite music (feel free to talk about music with me)

my fictional male crushes, usually villains

occasional media and film analysis that may devolve into passionate rants

What I don't tolerate whatsoever and will block you on sight as a result:

the basic dni criteria (racist, misogynistic, antisemitic, homophobic, transphobic, ableist, classist, xenophobic, fatphobic attitudes)

claiming that 'narcissistic abuse' is a real thing and believing that having a personality disorder inherently makes you a terrible person

abuse apologism and victim blaming

defending people like d*pp and spacey and other abusers/paedophiles/rapists

defending the british monarchy

being a fucking tory and/or brexiteer (let's be honest, you're usually both)

defending justice system institutions such as the police force (acab)

defending the military, its propaganda, and insidious recruitment techniques

being a paedophile/map/pear, whatever the fuck you like to call yourselves

being a terf/radfem/gender critical/transmedicalist

for that matter, also harry potter and jkr fans, please fuck off

being a nazi/neo-nazi/white supremacist/proud boy/anything to fucking do with fascist ideologies

supporting putin's attack on the ukraine and the idea that we should stop supporting and funding ukraine

supporting israel over palestine and ignoring the media silence and suppression of the atrocities against the latter

supporting ukraine's efforts but not palestine's

defending the capitalist system

in turn, also defending communist regimes and shouting down survivors of them and their atrocities

being a genocide denier

being a pro-life/anti-choicer (from a pro-choice and pro-abortion person)

being a proshipper and trying to justify paedophilic, racist and incestuous ships

being into true crime that romanticises and sexualises actual murderers and serial killers and dismisses the actual victims and their families

being someone who actively profits off of others' trauma and abuse for entertainment

I also have my trauma/mental illness/abuse blog that is more specifically about those things I have experienced and continue to experience, which is @traumacodedtransbitch, which can be far more triggering and violent just so you know.

[engagekiss]

Dear Goddess, terribly sorry if this is not alright to ask, but how does che killer in love feel about "priests" for a lack of a better word? Is it alright to worship che heavenly blood as one's deity?

This Childhood Friend can not at all dictate your actions , as all have their own autonomy … If one wishes to see This Earth as somebeing to worship , so be it , but Vi doesn’t quite like being seen in a parasocial light … Do know that This Goddess is not unobtainable , && Ae does plan on making a Discord simply to DM Cherish so it won’t flood Ax main account … ^^

Basically : Worship genuinely if you so choose , but be aware that Axe Purity holds no true divine powers within this body … ♪

[daydreamtrickster]

Eugene Choi is also a contrast and parallel to Suzaku Kururugi:

-Eugene Choi is a son of a family who serve as a slave for a corrupted noble family in his country whereas Suzaku Kururugi is a son of a prime minister of Japan. Eugene Choi killed the noble family to avenge his family while Suzaku Kururugi killed his father to save Nunnally.

-Eugene had no childhood friends whereas Suzaku had childhood friends.

-Both were discriminated by the kind of the country they pledged allegiance to (Suzaku by Britannians in Area 11 and Eugene by Americans in America and Joseon by US and Japan presence).

-Both climbed up to the ranks of the western imperialist nation whose presence are within their former country (Eugene Choi as a US consul for Joseon and Suzaku Kururugi as an Honorary Britannian/Knight of Honor/Knight of Seven in Japan).

-Both fought western imperialist country and Japan (Eugene killed Logan Taylory and fought against US backed Japan while Suzaku fought the Black Knights, JLF, and Japanese resistance and Schneizel's faction aided by Charles' remnants).

-Both are scorned by their homeland and their own kind as traitors while at the same time having complicated motivations to save their own kind (Eugene intervening between the affairs of Joseon and US backed Japan and Suzaku changing Area 11 within)

-Both are feared as famed and ruthless soldiers strong enough to defeat their enemies physically

-Eugene Choi wants to destroy Joseon for killing his family through USA and Suzaku Kururugi wants to enforce Britannian rule upon Area 11 due to the death of Euphemia by the hands of Lelouch (Zero).

-Both have a vendetta against their killers for killing their loved ones (Joseon noble family killing Eugene's family and Lelouch (Zero) killing Euphemia).

-They later fall in love with the daughter of an aristocratic family (Eugene Choi falls in love in Go Ae-shin through opposition and Suzaku Kururugi falls in love with Euphie during his time in Britannia).

-They became what they hate later on (Eugene becomes part of the Korean Righteous Army in the end and Suzaku Kururugi becomes Zero in the end).

-Both met a death in a different way (Eugene sacrifices himself to save his comrades from US backed Japan whereas Suzaku is dead in name and lives as Zero forever through Lelouch's promise forever)

-Euphie died while Suzaku lived and Eugene died while Go Ae-shin lived.

-Eugene became ruthless in the beginning only to change softer and nicer while Suzaku was softer and nicer in the beginning before becoming ruthless later on.

[productsreviewings]

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[eristic-kaleidoscope]

IndepENDent Together | E.N.D. | Voting Results Reaction

This is all too much. How long has it been? It feels entirely too long. Has it actually been too long, or does she just feel like that, her impatience cranked up to eleven with the rest of the emotions roiling within her? When the results are finally, slowly read out.... The fact that Ae-ra is confirmed as Erika Chen's killer doesn't so much as get END to raise her head from her podium. She's already accepted that, but it doesn't make the pain any easier to swallow.

Then..... Eureka, confirmed as the one who killed Ae-ra. END's arms tighten further around her head, as if she could just bury herself away and not deal with this. This is awful, she doesn't want to be here.

Should she be happy that Ae-ra wasn't the intended target? That it was just unfortunate timing, and that Eureka had planned to kill Erika Chen as well, and things just shook out poorly? No, that doesn't help at all, not in the least. It doesn't change the fact that Ae-ra is dead, and Eureka will be as well. Both a girlfriend and a friend, gone in a few hours, because of this horrible chain of events.

Eureka starts talking about her past, and her motives that drove her to do this, and... Jesus christ, that's awful. There's no defense she can offer Eureka about that, even with considering her a friend. Even if END isn't as affected by the hostage situation as some of the others--a fact she made clear herself--it's still.... Just, absolutely awful. Would she be bothered if Erika died? .....Yeah, there's still a part of her that thinks that's too much, huh. On top of that, there is everyone who would have lost people they loved instead.

Then comes Eureka's words about the comparison to her relationship with Ae-ra, and Eureka's own with Kimimi. That her feelings were basically nothing in comparison. Even if that was true-- She and Ae-ra had made it clear they were keeping things casual, figuring things out instead of jumping into the deep end--it still hurts to have it dismissed so easily. All for the sake of Eureka, and her trauma, and her actions.

How many times is she going to consider someone a friend just to get stabbed in the back, before she learns her lesson?

She raises her head from the podium, and then stands. She just stares at Eureka for a few more seconds, barely hearing Adrik's apathy, or Erik's condemnation--still stuck on justice, really? Even Erisu's breaking down is largely tuned out by the static in END's head. All she can hear is the rushing of her own heartbeat, and it drives her to act.

In one fluid motion, END plants a hand on top of the podium and vaults over it, taking off in a sprint towards Eureka as soon as her feet hit the ground.

--

“HEY!” An shouts, interjecting her voice into what seems like it’s going to become a genuine fight. “I shouldn’t need to warn you about not hitting someone who’s about to fucking die!”

Despite her open protests, she clearly remains solidly at her podium, flashing a stern look. She clutches the tablet in her hands tightly. “don’t make this overkill.”

--

END hears the warning dimly, but brushes it off. Let An shock her if she wants, it's nothing compared to the feelings coursing through her at the moment. Even if the path from END's podium to Eureka's isn't straight across the circle, it's enough to make it clear that END is a fast runner.

One, two more steps, and she's reaching for Eureka's jacket. The shorter woman tries to escape, tries to wriggle out of her jacket before END can stop her, but END's other hand roughly grabs Eureka's arm instead.

She pulls Eureka close, refusing to let her get away, and lifts Eureka up the few inches of height difference to look her dead in the eyes. There is a maelstrom of feelings inside of her, and she's gone far too long for her to not react. There is rage in her expression, of course--but also hurt, sadness, recognition.

She has never, not once doubted the comparisons between herself and Eureka that would lead the sisters to put the two next to each other in the original trial seating. She sees every bit of the worst parts of her impulsive nature, every bit of her destructive habits. How easily would it have been to turn out something like Eureka, had she not had a better family?

"Are you fucking serious, Eureka?! You wanted to do this for your own goddamned peace of mind?! You wanna talk about how awful you feel about losing someone you loved, and yet you're fine with making the people who had people they loved go right through that?! 

God, fucking--I don't know all the details of your past, and I don't need to--have you considered for the slightest moment that 03 attacked you because she was afraid you'd get her first? That you're not just doing the same thing to 04 and 05, if they weren't planning on seeking you out?

For fuck's sake, even if they were--you don't think that given the way you and An have fawned over each other, there wouldn't be a way to get her to help you deal with that? To keep you safe from being found by them, if nothing else? 

No, you decided it'd be a better idea to make the people here with loved ones just as fucking miserable as you, just so you'd be safe from your sisters. Why the fuck do you think that'd lead to a better life? Do you really think that if you got away with it, people would've been okay with it? It's not like you get out of here if you fucking, get away with murder! You would've been stuck here with a room full of people who think of you as an even worse monster than Chen, and you'd be dead within a week.

You wanna know why people don't think you're the most intelligent person here, Eureka? It has nothing to do with an inability to focus, or any of that that you focused on the other day. Because as this proved, more than fucking anything--for as smart as you are when it comes to making things, you don't fucking think. About anything, or anyone, other than yourself."

She doesn't swing for Eureka, at the very least, and instead she just shoves Eureka away from her roughly, not caring if the engineer managed to stay on her feet or not.

"You wanna refuse to be a victim again? Even if that means turning everyone in your path into victims yourself? Wake up, Eureka--you let your fear of them take control over your entire fucking life and your actions here. All this???? As far as I'm concerned, it's just proving you're still a victim to them. You haven't proven you're anything but.

You know what the really, really frustrating part is? I still can't fucking hate you, and that fucking sucks. So, whatever. The least you can do is give me your tablet, so I can get Ae-ra's things out of the room. If you have any last requests or whatever, you're running on short fucking time, so you'd better start talking."

[umbramortiis]

tag drop

. aes . killer within , . ask . mission accepted , . music . indulge , . meme . lets play a game , . ooc . vic stop talking , . hc . making an assassin , . musings . isms , . verse 001 . bite off the venomous head , . verse 002 . run for your life ,  . visage . she’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing ,  . skill . i could do this blindfolded

[365runesoftheamalgamations]

Happy STS!!❤️

I just recently came across The Plague Begins with me, and I'm already so into it. Talk to me about it — anything you want, I'd love to hear it!

hello and how are you?

Happy Belated Storyteller Saturday, R! Sorry that this took a bit to get to, we had a whole day yesterday and decided to do these late last night and post them today.

But oh my goodness, thank you for checking out our work! We are glad that The Plague Begins With Me got your attention! And since you asked so nicely, let's see if we can't get some five facts for you to know about it! And since it is Storyteller Saturday, let's focus on the story aspects of the WIP, yes?

Content Tag List (ask to be added or removed) @a-completely-normal-writer | @aalinaaaaaa | @autumnalwalker | @bardic-tales | @emersonjydestein | @enchanted-lightning-aes | @fearofahumanplanet | @howsweetthewords |@jessica-writes22 | @junypr-camus | @lockejhaven | @midnights-melodiverse | @papercutsunset | @talesofsorrowandofruin

cw: fourth mark talks about exposure to the Dowsing Plague and the crude means of survival and "treatment" to said exposure. It is definitely not any kind of specific, but please be aware that mentions of amputation and death are there. Keep yourselves safe. Please let us know if anything needs to be added or removed.

First and foremost, this story holds itself on the very edge of the despair. It starts when most of the characters are more than ready to just live until they either, die, get infected, find that final good spot to live, or someone takes them out. It kind of has a lot of muted tension and suspense to it bc of this! No one is expecting to survive this zombie movie, and honestly, a lot of them are kind of waiting for their execution via mercy kills.

On the Second, we want the story to be able to shift between the present and the past. Almost like flipping a coin, the small thoughts and moment of Zero shifting from her present work as mercy killer and bounty hunter to the times when she was the target, and the one within need of a mercy death.

And for the Third, honestly, at this point, we think the only "antagonist" to behold is Hope. It is a weird stance, and we definitely might shift it, but we kind of do like the story as it is. The ones "triggering" and "angering" things, stirring everything up and throwing everyone for a loop, are the very few who haven't yet decided to accept the thought that the World will end with the Dowsing Plague. They want to find a cure, fix it in some way, and that makes them so much more dangerous than any "villain" within the wastelands.

Also the Fourth, this story definitely has a lot of "your actions have consequences." It is not a very nice and gentle story that gives off warnings and close encounters, and we kind of show it in some moments where exposure leads to the "Five Minute Death Count." Not going into too much detail, one of the Variants of the Dowsing Plague - they call these victims, Creepers - is vicious and fast; it only takes five minutes for the exposure of the Variant to destroy you. So a lot of the time, any kind of exposure is led to someone counting down, and the survivors doing whatever possible to ensure the exposed's survival. In one instance, this leads to very crude amputation. If the exposure is ensured to ruin them - or in one instance where the exposed tries to hide their exposure and wound but is found out - Death is the only thing that comes from it. And Zero is more than ready to kill one person in order to save her Company.

And Last But Not Least, Mostly everyone in the Company is the mom friend, but also, they have guns and will spray peroxide in your face. o(*≧▽≦)ツ┏━┓

This Ask Led To 115 Words! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

Into The Word Box: 8,035

[dearestones]

Killer T Cell and His S/O: Regarding Killer T’s Personality

Warnings: N/A.

Anonymous Request: So I’m considering writing a short fanfic of my Cells at Work OC x Killer T Cell, which led me to this question: if KT had an S/O, how would his personality be affected, based on what we know about him? Thanks so much! :)

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Killer T Cell’s Personality

Well, we already know from canon that Killer T is a bit emotional and aggressive as an individual. He really gets up in your face about everything and he isn’t scared about saying things without thinking. However, that’s during work and when the life of the body is on the line.

With an S/O, however, he’s almost shy. Reticent.

He isn’t used to being affectionate with others, especially those he’s fond of. From canon, he basically told off U-1146 that he shouldn’t be going soft and hanging out with AE-3803. However, from what was also insinuated in canon, Killer T is actually a sensitive soul and somewhat jealous that his neutrophil coworker has an easygoing relationship with an ordinary red blood cell.

Furthermore, as a child, we also know that he wasn’t expected to become the great immune cell that he is today. In fact, he had to work really hard in order to pass his physical exams and become just as competent as his fellow cells like Helper T Cell and Regulatory T Cell. Because of this, his S/O can expect Killer T to relentlessly prove himself time and time again that he is worthy of their love and affection. He’ll go over and beyond with compliments, flirting, and kind gestures… he usually fails and ends up looking like a dork, but he’s a lovable dork who endeavors to make his S/O smile, so that’s all right.

With an Immune Cell S/O

It doesn’t matter if the S/O is a fellow Killer T Cell, neutrophil, Natural Killer Cell, or any other numerous types of immune cell. He will always worry whenever his S/O is off on a mission or in the part of a body that is prone to scrapes, infections, etc.

However, make no mistake, he isn’t going to coddle his S/O. There was a reason his S/O made it this far in the body and it definitely wasn’t luck. If Killer T managed to make it past his exams without getting killed, then he’ll make sure to give his S/O the exact trust and respect that he often gives to his coworkers and budding subordinates.

In short, he’ll be a frantic mess on the inside, hoping that his S/O will be fine, but on the outside, he’s rational and knows that they’ll be fine.

Since Killer T and his S/O are practically on even footing, then he won’t spend as much time trying to impress them or protect them. There’s mutual respect, but he’ll end up often blushing in their presence if they tease him or showing them off if his S/O is shy.

With a Civilian Cell S/O

Killer T Cell is a bit leery of the civilian cells in the body. It doesn’t matter if his S/O is an erythrocyte, hepatocyte, etc. He’ll feel like his job as a defender of the body will inevitably get in the way of his relationship. What happens if he dies and leaves you behind? What happens if a bacterium kills you on his watch?

There’s so much death, Killer T can’t comprehend how he would react if he were to have a close relationship with someone who could die at any moment.

It would be so much worse, he knows, if his S/O dies while he was trying to do his job.

If his civilian S/O can break through his walls and convince him that entering into a relationship would be worth it, he’ll be happy. And he’ll cry big happy tears.

“Take that, U-1146! I got one of my own!”

He won’t exactly say that per se, but he isn’t as jealous of U-1146’s relationships with the civilians within the body.

However, because he and his civilian cells aren’t exactly on even footing when it comes to fighting and physique, well… His S/O better be prepared to set some hard rules and boundaries. Killer T would definitely try his best to protect them, even at the cost of his life. He’ll often make sure that they’re far, far, far away from any danger and if his S/O doesn’t speak up, he might end up interfering in their work schedule because he thinks, misguidedly, that he’s doing what’s best for them.

On the other hand, he’ll also show off just a bit that he’s worthy of them and that he’ll defend them to the death. Again, make sure there are rules and boundaries or he’ll end up overdoing it.

Conclusion

Overall, Killer T will absolutely love his S/O. He’s a difficult one to get his walls down, but once his S/O does, it’s almost all smooth sailing from there. As for his personality, he’ll definitely become more protective, emotional, and be more willing to be vulnerable for his S/O.

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If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

HATARAKU SAIBOU (CELLS AT WORK) MASTERLIST

[archesa]

heard you wanted some 🖊🖊🖊 :D @kerra-and-company

Wiiiiiiii!! Thank you!! ^^

🖊 - Introducing Galaëd !

He’s a fifth-born (1325 AE) mesmer of the Cycle of Dusk, whose Dream showed him a rose lion defending a garden from thorns and vines growing in the shade of a dragon.

To Kahedins, his mentor, his wyld-hunt was clear : much like Firstborn Caithe, he was burden with the glorious purpose of fighting and defeating the Elder Dragons. But Galaëd remained unsatified with this interpretation -- something was amiss.

Still, the young sprout was not one to back up from a challenge, and he joined the Vigil to help defend Tyria against the rising threat of the dragons, and pursue his wyld-hunt, hoping to find more sense to the rest of his Dream if he could.

Everything became a lot clearer when he met Rorschach Grimlaugh (translation pending - @lilypixy 's Rorschach Riresang in original version ^^) at the Battle of Claw Island. With two mesmers in their ranks, the Battle took a turn for the better when, submerged by undead and cornered into making an unsufferable sacrifice, they joined their forces to swarm the Risen with illusions, buying time for the survivors of the Lion’s Guard and their respective mentor time to escape. (yup! It’s a Mentors live AU, especially a Sieran lives AU, since she and Rorschach get very close after Claw Island)

He will eventually become Commander Rorschach’s second within the Pact.

🖊 - The future of Orr

Despite being born and raised in the highest Krytian society, Anwen despises politics and intrigues, much prefering the honest brutality of the battlefield to the venomous murmurs of salons and council chambers. But when she and Trahearne moved in together in Caer Aval and started working together on the restoration of Orr, she realised she could not suffer the prospect of Trahearne's dream, the (first of many) accomplishment of his young life being ravaged in the inevitable war that would come for the control of the continent when it would finally be delivered from the dragon's corruption and lingering influence.

She spent weeks drafting a treaty. Building its foundations both on the long lost kingdom's history and more recent negotiations, the last century or so, between the free people of Tyria. Conferring with the long departed kings and queens for their blessing. Reasoning how to present her conditions to the world's leaders, to shift the tide of destiny in her favour.

It would eventually take quite a bit of persuasion, and all the political acumen she had ever refused to use to get them to individually agree - renouncing any claim they, their descendants or successors could have on the once lost continent.

Orr would remain neutral. Untouched by politics. Unsullied by war.

🖊 - A guardian’s vow

Human guardians are knights, devoted to their queen and sworn to their chosen deity. Blessed by Kormir at birth, Anwen vowed herself to the service of the Godess of Order, Spirit and Truth.

Now, with Balthazar as her mortal enemy and a threat to all of Tyria, she finds a certain solace in her allegiance -- sworn to the worship and service of a god-killer when destiny seemed to bestow the same fate onto her.

[acrosstimeandspace]

hi i have more talk about my ocs so i’m putting it here and below the cut!

so to start w/the basics i should talk about my fates s/i, oz (who uses ae/aer and he/him pronouns), because ae is a big tie in factor for all my fates ocs. oz is a witch who was originally one of camilla’s retainers before severa show’d up. ae was taken in by camilla’s mom to be camilla’s retainer because of their magical prowess, and for camilla’s mom to manipulate aer. 

camilla’s mother eventually does use them, framing them as a killer for one of her own crimes. oz, however, decides to run away to the forests of nohr and gets taken in by an elderly witch until aer paralogue, which is what inserts ae into fates.

About Vil 

vil is, as mentioned, a general and duke of nohr. when oz was in nohr he was incredibly close to aer, and even in love with aer. during oz’s paralogue, he’s been sent to take oz back to nohr to be punished for the crimes. he’s only recruitable in conquest and revelations because camilla is the one to do so, and prove oz’s innocence to him. 

vil is also notably a huge softy despite being known as an intimidating and frightening general, with a dangerous reputation proceeding him. the reality is he’s a very kind duke who does all he can for the people of his kingdom, especially those within his dukedom. his hobbies include baking and cooking, and he has two younger sisters he absolutely dotes on. also he’s a huge romantic and sappy guy, he loves reading sweet love poetry! vil get’s introduced in oz’s paralogue with oz.

his dynamic with oz is very funny, bc he’s very obvious about his love for aer, but oz is literally the densest person in the whole army. i think their supports are very much vil visibly pinning after oz and oz being like, “i’m glad to have my friend back :)”. until their s support where vil finally says his feelings in plain words and oz becomes a blushing mess.

About Vespasian

ves, as i mentioned before, is like the awakening trio because they come form ylisse! however, unlike the trio, they were never tasked with being involved in stuff. they really became corrin’s retainer by accident.

they’re a notable contemporary of miriel’s and a shepard! they ended up heading into the outer realms because they were curious about them. speaking of, curiosity is a huge part of ves and is what leads them on. and they value it a lot in people. which also means they encourage corrin to be curious and independent which gets the two of them in trouble with jakob a lot lol. also, ves has the hobby of pressing flowers because they like to take the flowers and make them into bookmarks for their friends! also they get introduced like with jakob and the other retainers.

also their dymanic with oz. ves is super curious about oz because ae’s not particularly great with people. and of course it relates back to camilla’s mother betraying them and is slowly revealed to ves. but ves also likes that ae’s so dense so they tease aer about it a lot, and they catching feelings because they think oz is cute because of their innate kindness but also how blunt they are. it’s a funny combo to ves. 

About Lumi

lumi is the princess of attikos and has a very unique class! she gets to be a flying unit and use magic and swords because they’re my favorite and i love her. she’s initiially introduced in a paralogue right before oz’s, as someone in a conflict with a nohrian general. 

her kingdom was originally attacked by garon and he was defeated by lumi, so originally she came to nohr to finish up the peace treaty, which is how she first met oz because ae was her guardian while she was there. however, the longer she’s in nohr the more convinced she is that garon needs to be overthrown which is why she’s super easy to recruit in birthright and revelations but not conquest. because it takes xander talking to her 2 times to convince her. 

also lumi’s a huge girly girl and loves cute things! she has a small collection of little delicate ceramics. this relates to her bonding with oz, because ae also has a soft spot for cute things and the two bond over it initially, and it develops to them just learning more about each other and falling in love!

[seasonofthewicth]

A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 13

I’m so sorry this update took so long, I have no excuse it just took me a while to make Aelin do what I wanted her to do! As usual I hope you enjoy, things get a bit more exciting from here!

masterlist - ao3

-- 

Her first kiss wasn’t her favourite memory. She was fifteen, and at a bowling alley of all places for Lysandra’s birthday. It had been with a guy called Nox and he had tentatively pressed his chapped lips to hers for a second before pulling away. Their feet had been a solid foot apart and he had all but ran from her as soon as it was done. 

She liked to think her kisses had only improved from then; as much as he was a dick, Arobynn had been a pretty decent kisser when he could be bothered to offer her any kind of affection. 

Rowan’s kiss had been something different though. 

His lips had been gentle but insistent against her own, and she hadn’t been able to help the soft sighs and the gentle moan that had slipped out of her. He knew what he was doing, and she hadn’t doubted him in all the times she had imagined kissing him, but she had still been pleasantly surprised. 

He had kissed her confidently and she had been taken, perfectly content to let him take control and kiss her strongly, to steal her breath and tilt her head. She hadn’t been like that with Arobynn, but she vowed for that to be the last time she would compare the two. 

She had spent the whole night struggling to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, the phantom touch of Rowan’s lips against her own filled her mind, she swore she could still feel the spike of heat where his fingertips had brushed, ever so gently, against her thigh. 

She was still blushing from the sensation of his fingers lightly tugging her hair and the groan it had elicited from her throat when she woke, barely rested after hours of tossing and turning with her mind unable to fully switch off. 

She wanted to see him, wanted to kiss him again, wanted him to kiss her and take control again. 

But she needed to be careful. As much as she longed to throw caution to the wind, and to cross the hall and plant herself in his bed, to press herself against his side and lay herself bare for him, she needed to make sure she knew exactly what she was going for. 

She felt confident enough to guess that the attraction between them was mutual, he hadn’t shied away from roaming his hands along her skin and it wasn’t like she was blind to the way he watched her. 

But he had been the one to walk away from the kiss. 

In the quiet of the hall last night she likely would have been inclined to follow had he invited her to his bed. But he hadn’t. And as much as Rowan was sometimes reserved, sometimes quiet where she was loud and brash, he wasn’t quite shy. He had a quiet kind of confidence to him that she expected him to have asked her to join him if that was what he wanted. 

That left her with only one choice. 

-- 

She pounded her fist against the door and each sound was blow to her head, a telltale sign she had drunk more than she ought to the night before. She hadn’t realised the sensation in her head was likely due to more than just her lack of sleep, she had drank more last night than she had in a while. Aelin lessened her knocking, and changed tact to call through the door. 

“Can I come in?” She half whispered, not wanting to disturb any of the other occupants of the loft. “It’s important.”

She heard the rustling of bed sheets before the voice of the room’s occupant spoke.

“What, Aelin?” Her cousin sounded only mildly irritated to be woken up relatively early after the state he had been in last night. She bit back a snort at the thought of how hilarious her cousin had been after a few too many drinks. 

He hadn’t been the only one to make her laugh; she had taken more than a liking to Elide. The woman was feisty and sarcastic. Her sense of humour gelled well with Aelin’s and she knew she’d have to get her number from Lorcan. 

“Aedion, I need to speak to Lysandra.”

Immediately her friend’s voice sounded. “Come in Ae.”

She pushed the door open and quickly shut it behind herself. She took in where her cousin and best friend lay, both clearly unclothed beneath the sheets if the way the dark blue sheet was tucked up high was anything to go by, resting just under each of their chins. She deliberately looked only at her best friend. 

“I need to speak to you,” She announced before risking a glance toward Aedion. “Alone.”

He barked out a laugh. “This is my room.”

She shot him an incredulous look; this was important, did he not realise that?

Lysandra only patted her boyfriend on the shoulder and tilted her head towards the door. Aelin grinned as Aedion began to move, but spun around quickly to face the wall, she wasn’t keen to see her cousin naked. 

“Thank you,” She called teasingly and he only grumbled under his breath as he shucked on his clothes and poked her side before heading out of the doorway and into the kitchen. 

She waited until his protests faded, until his reminder that ‘you have your own room you know’ was far enough from them that she didn’t think he would be able to hear her, before turning to Lysandra and placing herself, cross-legged, at the end of Aedion’s bed.

“Someone’s grumpy this morning,” She said, only a hint of mockery coloured her tone. 

Lysandra laughed. “Always. Now not that I’m complaining, you know you’re my favourite Ashryver, but what’s so important you had to kick him out at this time?”

Aelin found herself unable to fully hold back her smile, even though she tried, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth slightly. 

She wanted to smile both at Lysandra’s reassurance of her place as the superior Ashryver, and at the news she had been waiting to drop since she had closed her door last night, but faced with her waiting best friend she became… almost nervous. 

She mostly hoped Lysandra wouldn’t immediately jump to the wrong conclusions. Aelin knew the situation was slightly messy, but she was happy, she had kissed Rowan, and she wanted at least a morning before she had to face the consequences, whatever they might be.

She could feel her face heating as she thought through exactly how to fill Lysandra in on what had gone down since their disastrous game of truth or dare. 

“So,” She looked down to her knees where they crossed beneath her and took a breath. “Rowan kissed me.”

Lysandra’s green eyes widened almost comically as she sprung up in the bed, only half remembering to keep the sheet pressed to her chest. A coil of dark hair managed to hide what the sheet exposed.

“He what?” She shrieked. 

Aelin shushed her quickly. She didn’t want Aedion, or worse, any of her other roommates coming to see what the commotion was.

“He kissed me,” She said, pressing her hands to her cheeks. She still felt slightly giddy when she thought about it and she doubted the feeling would fade soon.

It had been an end to the night that she hadn’t seen coming; she had still been reeling from his rejection when she found herself face to face with him in the hall. He had surprised her. She supposed all she had been expecting when she saw him was a depressing explanation of his reasons for not wanting to kiss her, but what she had received had been so much better. 

“When did this happen?” Lysandra demanded, her mouth opened slightly in an excited smile. 

“Last night,” Aelin said, still trying to reel in her excitement so not to squeal like a high-schooler after their first kiss. “After everyone went to bed.”

Lysandra’s grin took on a dark edge, “And was it just a kiss?”

“Yes,” She tutted. “Just a kiss.”

“Was it a good kiss?”

“Lys,” She said simply, still fighting against her smile. It was all she needed to say for Lysandra to shake her head with a grin. “It was like he was a man and I was a woman and he just took me and kissed me and I was gone.”

“Aelin Galathynius,” Lysandra shook her head, still smiling along with her. “Who could have foreseen this?”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” She deadpanned, tugging threateningly on the sheet Lysandra still held against herself. 

“What does this mean then?” Her friend asked, and truthfully? She wasn’t sure. 

Rowan had left her last night, in the hallway, with his killer getaway line. While it had reassured her that he didn’t just not want to kiss her, it hadn’t given her much more to go off. It hadn’t clued her into whether or not he wanted to kiss her again, or whether he wanted to do anything more than kiss her. 

“I’m not sure,” She started but Lysandra spoke again when she sensed Aelin didn’t have anything more concrete.

“Did he say what it meant?”

She breathed out a laugh. “All he said was, and I quote, ‘I didn’t want the first time I kissed you to be for some stupid game’.”

Lysandra nodded before she grinned. “The first time he kissed you? Means he was definitely planning on doing it at some point, with or without the stupid game.”

Aelin smiled again, she had had the same thought, and hearing the confirmation from Lysandra was almost dizzying in its relief. And if she allowed herself to admit; excitement. 

She wondered when he would have kissed her if Elide hadn’t dared him to do so. She knew she and Rowan had been dancing around the edge of something for a while now and she couldn’t stop the desire building within her for something more. Had he not been her roommate, and had there not been such dire consequences if it ended badly, she might have made a move by herself at this point. 

But, she supposed, if she had this hold up he probably did too, and she sighed. There lay their issue. 

They lived together, and she was happy living there. She didn’t want to lose him, or the other guys in the loft, if she went for it and it ended badly. She could accept that if anything happened she would have to be the one to leave the loft, Rowan had lived there first and was far closer to the other guys than her. 

Lysandra, as always, could see right through her. 

“I think you need to talk to him.”

The door swung open behind her and she turned around to berate Aedion for interrupting when Lysandra let out a squeak and threw herself further under the covers. 

“Fenrys, knock!” Her friend yelled. 

The offender only raised a hand to cover his eyes before stepping into the room as well as he could while blind. “I’m not even looking.”

She heard Lysandra’s scoff behind her and raised an eyebrow at her friend, still lingering in the doorway. It only worked in his favour, she reminded herself, when he didn’t respond to her non-verbal prompt. 

“What?” She asked. 

“Can I see yet?” He asked and Aelin rolled her eyes before turning to Lysandra. Her friend snuggled deeper into Aedion’s bed, making sure she was covered, before offering Aelin a thumbs up. 

“Yes, now why are you in here?” She asked, before adding; “Interrupting.”

Fenrys only grinned and dropped his hand from his eyes, undeterred as he stepped forwards. 

“We need toilet paper, and it’s your turn to buy.”

Aelin blinked. She couldn’t believe him. What was it with guys in the loft and not realising this was serious? Just when she and Lysandra had got to the really important part, the part where Lysandra was going to give Aelin the advice she desperately needed. 

“This was why you barged in here? Toilet paper?” Lysandra was equally as incredulous as Aelin.

Fenrys shot her a look that just read duh. 

“You two use the most, and you,” He pointed to Lysandra, “don’t even live here.”

Lysandra shrugged, unbothered. Lysandra was now a fixture of the loft the same as any of the official residents. Her place as Aelin’s best friend and Aedion’s girlfriend gave her unlimited access and Aelin wouldn’t be surprised if she had already had a key cut. 

“Not exactly true,” Aelin said, but smiled at him. “Could you not go, just this once? For me, please?”

She was sure he definitely owed her at least one favour for some reason or another. 

“Aelin, please.” She looked away from where he had attempted to dial the charm all the way up. “I’ll come with you.”

She weighed it up. 

“Is Rowan up?” She asked. 

A splash of confusion crossed Fenrys’ at her abrupt and seemingly out of nowhere question, but he shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

She sighed, it probably wouldn't take long. And Rowan wasn’t working today, so he’d be here for her to talk to when she got back. 

“Fine, but we’ll be quick.” She said, standing up before turning back to Lysandra. “We’ll carry this on later?”

Lysandra saluted her from her position still tucked into Aedion’s pillows.

--

Rowan swung the toy up and across his chest, before sweeping it backwards and over his body to the other side. Hellas pounced on him, diving onto the planes of his chest with his claws outstretched before leaping off and attacking the small snake toy with the ferocity of a lion. 

Rowan scratched the tiny beast on the head, receiving only a mild purr in response as the kitten curled into the space between his side and the arm he had slung across the back of the sofa, clutching the now loose toy in his small claws. He stifled a yawn, not wanting to disturb the kitten who had cemented his position as the prime of the loft in a matter of days. 

He had barely slept last night, hadn’t been able to get his mind to shut up for more than a minute before it was back onto images of Aelin from the night before. The soft pink of her nightgown, only a shade lighter than the blush gracing her skin, the swell of her lips after he had pulled back from the kisses they shared to draw a breath. A tug in his lower stomach noted, with a kind of purely male satisfaction, that he had been the one to make her look like that. Freshly kissed and sexy as hell. 

He hadn’t been able to stop replaying the gentle moan that had slipped through her lips when he had pressed the hard line of his body even tighter against her, and in combination with the memory of the way her fingernails had scraped against his scalp, he had pressed his pillow firmly across his face and hoped that would be good enough. He would no doubt be questioned if he had snuck off for a cold shower at three in the morning. 

Her lips had been gentle against his own, only pausing for a second before kissing him back. 

That, he supposed was the detail his mind kept snagging on. He hadn’t expected her to return the gesture, and had already readied himself for damage control, before her hand had crept up and tangled through the strands of hair at the base of his neck, locking him to her. It had given him the confidence to sweep his tongue into her mouth, and the taste of Aelin on his tongue had sent a pulse of something hot burning through him. 

He had imagined kissing Aelin any number of times, had imagined a soft peck after taking her to dinner, had imagined pressing scorching kisses down from her lips to her neck as he pulled her bra straps down her shoulders. He had even imagined kissing her only to be rejected, had imagined her as stiff as a board while he pressed his lips to her own. 

The reality had surpassed any of the scenarios he had been able to come up with. 

Kissing Aelin had been everything he had expected it to be and more; soft and sweet, hot and intense. He could at least admit to himself that he wanted to do it again. Wanted to do more than kiss her, if she would have him. 

But Aelin deserved more than that. 

She deserved more than a hook-up with her roommate. She deserved flowers, and a knock on the door at eight o’clock sharp. She deserved to be romanced, with petals and love proclamations scrawled across little notes. Aelin deserved to be swept off her feet.

After that piece of shit Arobynn, who Rowan had to constantly remind himself was out of her life now, Aelin deserved everything. 

Fuck. 

He guessed that was why he had panicked, why he had crept back to his room before she had had a chance to speak. It was the cowards approach, but he couldn’t believe he had done it, that he had kissed her, and he had needed a moment to compose himself. 

He sighed, a long and cathartic release of the pressure that had built up inside him since the night before. It had been an eventful night.

“You alright?” Aedion’s question was teasing where it came from behind him. 

Rowan rolled his head back along the cushions of the sofa to shoot his friend a look. Aedion laughed. 

“Yeah, me too,” He said as he gently lowered himself to the seat beside Rowan, dropping a gentle scratch along the spine of the kitten still tucked into his side. Hellas had long since fallen asleep, but Rowan knew Aedion was just as powerless as he was against the kitten. All of them were. “You look how I feel. Never let me drink that much again.”

Rowan snorted. “You were fine when I was serving you, you can blame Fenrys for this.” He waved a hand to where Aedion cringed into his seat, fingertips massaging his temples as his eyes drifted shut. 

“I’ll blame you all,” Aedion said finally, his eyes shut tightly.

A moment of silence passed before Rowan asked, “You the first one up?” 

He hadn’t seen anyone else this morning, well afternoon now, but most importantly he hadn’t had a chance to speak to Aelin. Her bedroom door had been open when he woke, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found and he supposed he would have to play the waiting game. 

“Nah,” Aedion said. “Aelin kicked me out of my own room at gods know what fucking time this morning to speak to Lysandra then left, also hideously early, with Fenrys. And I haven’t seen Lorcan. Not entirely convinced he spent the night here.”

A surprisingly long run down given the state he was in and Rowan caught the twitch of his brow at the effort required to sustain such a long conversation. He would have laughed if he didn’t feel similar. 

He hadn’t drank that much, and it definitely wasn’t enough that he could have blamed his kiss with Aelin on the alcohol if she was unhappy. 

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to wipe his mind clear. 

“You think Lorcan went home with Elide?”

Aedion offered half of a shrug, then winced at the motion. 

“Not sure, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had. But then again, it is Lorcan.” He paused, letting his hands drop from his temples but his eyes stayed closed. “We’re agreed that all the moaning he did, he’s just into her, right?”

“One hundred percent.” Rowan nodded slightly, cursing the sharp spikes the motion sent through his head. He took a pause before saying; “The captain seemed to quite like him too though.”

“Can’t understand why,” Aedion laughed. “She was nice, attractive, and could actually hold a conversation, unlike-” 

“I know what you’re about to say and don’t bother.”

Rowan had missed Lorcan’s entrance before he spoke, but the gravel of his voice cut through Aedion’s words like a knife. He then didn’t miss the heavyweight throwing himself between him and Aedion. His roommate swept the kitten up to plunk Hellas on his own chest as he too collapsed into the cushions. 

“I didn’t sleep with the captain,” Lorcan almost growled. “And her name is Elide.”

“Sorry, boss.” 

Rowan felt the slap Aedion swung at Lorcan’s shoulder and felt his lips tilt up. It had been a while since they had all festered like this after a night of drinking and it sent him back to college. Even though Lorcan hadn’t been to college with the three of them, they had met soon after, and it hadn’t been long before the four of them had moved into a smaller apartment outside of Rifthold. Their college antics had continued for a while after that, drinking to excess and being straight up gross the next day. 

They didn’t do it often anymore. He was desperately avoiding the knowledge that as they neared thirty it was getting harder and harder to recover and, apart from Rowan, they all had proper jobs now that didn’t allow for being out of action for a whole day afterwards. 

He lay back, settling into the amiable silence with his friends, and he closed his eyes. He was content to lie there for however long, but it could only have been seconds before the peace was interrupted by the buzzing of a phone. 

His phone, with Aelin’s contact photo lighting up the screen. 

-- 

There was a beeping coming from somewhere down the hallway. It was kind of getting on her nerves at this point, but she didn’t want to stray from her place at Fenrys’ side to go and complain about it, she could try to tune it out as best as she could. It didn’t matter that he wore an easy grin, exuding an unbothered energy by the turn their day had taken, she wouldn’t leave him. 

Aelin didn’t know how it had happened; one minute they had been traipsing the aisles of the local supermarket searching for the one item they had come for, and the next Fenrys was sprawled on the floor, a steady stream of blood flowing from a gash in the side of his hand. 

She hadn’t seen the spill on the floor in time to warn him, and had only been able to watch in horror as he had slid straight into a display case of bottles of some kind of wine. The glass had shattered across the floor, sending floods of fizzing liquid across the tiles in waves as Fenrys clattered to the ground, arms braced in front of himself to cushion the fall. 

The staff at the supermarket had offered them rolls and rolls of blue tissue paper to stem the bleeding but Aelin had taken one look at the wound and knew, from her very limited medical knowledge mostly gained from television programmes, that it would need stitches. They had taken an Uber to the emergency room and ended up waiting in this room for a doctor to come and stitch up Fenrys’ hand. She wasn’t sure how long they had been there, but it definitely hadn’t been what Aelin had meant when she had emphasised the need for their trip to be quick. 

She sighed as she shifted in the hard plastic seat placed next to the bed Fenrys relaxed into. He caught the expression. 

“I’m sorry,” The quirk of his lips didn’t diminish. “I really was trying to be quick.” Cheeky.

“It’s not your fault,” She dismissed him quickly. “I just wish this doctor would come sooner, I have better things to do today.”

“Like what?” He prompted. “Are you seeing Dorian?”

She narrowed her eyes at the way he always seemed to work Dorian into their conversations. “No. Why?”

“No reason.” He spoke far too quickly for it to be casual, but before she could speak the door behind her swung open and a doctor strode in. 

“Fenrys Moonbeam?” He asked, his voice curling smoothly around the words. “Dr Sam Cortland, now let’s see what we can do about that hand.”

--

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen​

@maybekindasortaace​

@slytheringalathynius​

@http-itsrebecca​

@morganofthewildfire​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@fictional-horan​

@tottenhamboys20

@dressedindustandshadows​

@sleeping-and-books​

@perseusannabeth​

@ireallyshouldsleeprn​

@superspiritfestival​

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​

@spyofthenightcourt​

@jlinez​

@queen-of-glass​

@booknerdproblems​

@sjmships​

@elriel4life​

@bamchickawowow​

@woollycat22​

@claralady​

@illyrianwitchling​

@SHINYA-HIIRAGI

@fangirlprincess09​

@darlinminds​​

@bookittothelibrary1​ <- this came up as the url please let me know it its not right

@thenerdandfandoms​​

@danibutterr​

[sanstropfremir]

I personally think that aespa 's stage presence is good for right now. I really like ningning in terms of her self awareness and winter imo really just has a killer aura on stage. Karina is good and I feel like this savage comeback she's even more standout than before. Giselle may be the weakest in stage presence but it gets better with each comeback. I'm also wondering if their ai concept restricts them in any way. But maybe it doesn't? Tbh their concept sometimes feels more like a video game kinda thing rather than ai which is interesting. For me I think my fave member in terms of stage presence is either winter or Ningning idk why but they always grab my attention. Karina and Giselle do to (Karinas dancing does) but winter and ningning are really interesting. Idk where my rambling is leading to LOL so I'll stop here.

honestly i don't think their ai concept is that restricting, considering what i thought it was going to be when they announced it, but also i'm willing to bet that within probably a year from now they're likely going to do a couple of comebacks with different aesthetics that are not so techno-heavy. sm is leaning into reviving the heavily stylized concepts from the early 2010s and so are several other groups, so i think we might be on the uptick from plainclothes stylings for the next year/2022. i think kai's solo comeback is going to be the big indicator; if he again goes techno or another high concept route we're likely to see a lot more weird coming up, if he doesn't i think there's gonna be some weird still, but not a majority. i think him and key are currently sm's biggest male soloists now that taemin and baek are enlisted and tvxq is in japanese timeout, and both fit somewhere in between them in terms of the concept execution and interest spectrum (taemin at the high concept end and baekhyun at the low). key has already said that he's probably gonna start working on the next album, which we'll probably see mid-late 2022, and the kai solo is apparently due for november (i'm assuming late november), which is usually pretty heavy comeback season.

you are right though, the way aespa's ae is executed right now is more similar to k/da than anything else, which i think is how it's being perceived by their target demographic. if anything i wish they would step up the quality of the animation so that it matches with k/da (who i've written about here if anyone's curious), although maybe that's something we will see in the future now that sm's got three proven hits.

[springday-aus]

SVT’s Wonwoo: Daytime Scares

—

Fic Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus​

Moodboard Link: created by Admin Grandpa

Main Characters: Y/N [fem. reader] and Seventeen’s Jeon Wonwoo

Other Characters: OCs [Ae Jae, Mi Jeong, Yoojin, and Minjae], Chaeyoung (BlackPink), Yongsun (Mamamoo), Seventeen [Seungkwan and Mingyu] 

Genre: fluff, romance, comedy, college!Wonwoo

Type: one-shot writing piece

Word Count: approx. 11.6k

Plot Summary: Wonwoo is nothing more than an attractive stranger in your ethics class. You have no relation with him whatsoever, but that changes when you suddenly have a nightmare that he tries to kill you. That’s a whole level of psychoanalyzing you would rather not dive into. But now things get weirder when he’s starting to talk to you. 

→ Based on the AU prompt: “I had a dream that you tried to kill me and now I’m scared of you” 

Sleepovers typically mean movies, gossip, and face masks. It’s a fun time to be with your friends and it’s good for lowering stress after midterms. The only level of stress here is would be finding a movie to watch—which probably should have been selected beforehand. But, in your defense, it was hard enough to schedule this hang-out; who has the time to actually schedule the activities? 

So, right now, you lay comfortably on the carpeted floor of Ae Jae’s studio apartment with Mi Jeong. You two are on your phones, trying to find a movie to watch. Meanwhile, Yoojin scrolls through her laptop—connected to the projector—browsing through her Netflix account. 

“What about Hustlers?” Minjae asks. 

“I could really use some J.Lo right now,” you say with wiggling eyebrows. 

“Ugh, we can all use a little more J.Lo,” Mi Jeong says. 

“That movie is too recent,” Yoojin says. “We can’t find that on a streaming site.” 

“Hello?” Ae Jae says. “Have you heard of Dailymotion?” 

“Do you want me to just pull up one of those illegal websites?” Minjae asks. 

Yoojin turns around to face her. “Ma’am, that’s called pirating.” 

“Exactly.” 

Mi Jeong laughs at them. Yoojin gives her a pointed look, but you all know it’s no bad intentions. 

You set your phone down and sit up from your previous position. “Might as well. We can probably browse through the other movies and figure out some other options to choose from.” 

“What I’m hearing is,” Ae Jae says, “is that we don’t have to pay to watch these new movies.” 

Yoojin rolls her eyes and moves out of the way of her laptop. “I guess we have nothing to lose.” 

“No fear of the viruses?” you ask. 

“Potato, potato,” Minjae says. 

Yoojin shrugs. “Fire away, Minjae.” 

You watch her practically jump over from her previous spot to the TV to type in one of her illegal sites, which you may or may not have frequently used—thanks to her. You can only laugh at her antics. 

It’s nice to be with your friends again. It’s been a while since you had properly sent time with them. With the assignments and overlapping work schedules, you’ve all kind of distanced yourselves from one another and, with midterms coming up, things were just piling higher. After midterms week finished, when things calmed down, you and your friends aligned your schedules to catch up with one another. 

But who knew it would take nearly two hours to figure out what to watch? Granted, one of the flaws within your friend group is the fact that most of your friends (you included) are incredibly indecisive. 

As Minjae moves from one page to the next, everyone else silently scans the movies presented in front of them. 

“The live-action Lion King is out,” Mi Jeong says. “That could be an option.” 

“Hm,” you say. “I’m pretty sure it’s just the same as the original one.” 

“It is,” Minjae says. “But we can just put it on a list of things we could watch. We can still look.” 

“Let’s just do that,” Yoojin says. 

About ten movie pages (and a list of six possible movies to watch) in, Minjae gets into the horror movie section. You tense up from the movie covers—each one making your stomach twist in apprehension. The one thing each one of your friends know is that you get easily scared, which means you dodge horror movies like the plague. 

“Oh, what about It: Chapter 2?” Ae Jae asks. 

You start to whine, realizing where this is going. “Nooo.” 

You’re ignored. 

“I still haven’t watched the first one,” Minjae says.

“What?” “That was literally everywhere.” “How did you manage to miss one of the biggest horror movies?” 

Minjae shrugs off the questions. “I just never got to it.” 

“It’s a good movie,” Mi Jeong says. “Right, (Y/N)?” 

You scowl at her. “No, it’s not.” 

Yoojin snorts. “You probably didn’t even watch it.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Since (Y/N) and I haven’t watched it,” Minjae says. “Should we just watch it?” 

“NOOO—” 

Everyone ignores you. 

“Since it’s kind of old,” Ae Jae says. “They’ll probably have it in higher quality.” 

“NOOOO—” 

“You’re probably right,” Yoojin says. “Oh, 1080hd. That’s fancy.” 

“GUYS. IS ANYONE GOING TO LISTEN TO ME?” 

“I found it!”  

You let out a long sigh, kissing a month’s worth of sleep away. You mumble under your breath. “Guess no one cares about my well being and health.” 

You move yourself to properly lay between Mi Jeong and Minjae, throwing another pillow down. All three of you are on the carpeted floor with too many pillows to count. Ae Jae moved herself and now, she lies on her bed with Yoojin. A blanket is placed on your head and shoulders, ready for cover whenever Pennywise’s face appears on the screen. 

You’ve never wished for poorer eyesight until now. You will never understand the trolls that found this clown attractive. A shudder runs down your spine, seeing his face flash in the lightning from the sewer. You quickly pull the blanket over your head to erase the image. 

You feel a couple of tugs. 

Mi Jeong’s pulling on it. “Jesus Christ, it’s just a clown!” 

“John Wayne Gacy was just a clown too and he turned out as a murderer. This one just happens to be supernatural!” 

Minjae starts to tug down the blanket as well. “Be apart of the friend group!” 

“NO!” 

A pillow is flung towards you, in courtesy of Yoojin, who yells down at all of you. “Be quiet!” 

“I want new friends.” 

It’s 3am—you’ve all moved on from It and onto some generic cartoon movie. You were the main advocate for another movie, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrific images Pennywise provided. Mi Jeong and Minjae are both asleep on each side of you—both with pore strips still attached on their noses. Yoojin snores lightly from Ae Jae’s bed, whereas Ae Jae is up with her elbow propping up her head. 

“Hey,” she says. 

“What?” 

“You up?” She gives you a teasing smile. 

You roll your eyes at her. “This is your fault. Of course, I’m up.” 

“What? You really can’t sleep because of the movie?” 

You stare at her, but refuse to actually move. “Believe it or not, terrifying images of a killer clown that’s telling me I’ll float isn’t a good sleeping mechanism.” 

She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again, once the words come to her. “They help Mi Jeong sleep.” 

“She’s got a different way of thinking.” 

“Hmm, you’re right,” Ae Jae says. “Do you just want a melatonin instead?” 

You’ve got nothing to lose. “Sure.” 

She manages to get up, without waking up Yoojin, and walks over to the bathroom. She opens the cabinet, looks through it, and pulls out her melatonin gummies. She pops the lid open, walks towards you, and hands it over. “Take two and you should be asleep in thirty minutes.” 

“Thanks.” You take a couple, as she advises, and hand the jar back to her. You slowly chew on them, keeping your eyes on the screen in front of you. The images start to pass like a blur and you can’t retain what you’ve just watched. 

About twenty minutes later, your eyelids start to droop, feeling the melatonin kick in. You begin to feel a bit tired, so you fully close your eyes and drift off to sleep. 

You find yourself in a sewer, blindly moving through a lightless tunnel—with no clue as to how you ended up there. It’s dark, you note to yourself, and it smells foul. The muddy water splashes with each step and it rises as you go through, practically filling your boots. There’s a mist as well, blocking nearly half of your sight of the tunnel. You try to squint through the fog, trying to make out what’s ahead. 

You’re able to see a small light at the end. As if you had no control over your body, you run towards it—but it never gets any bigger. You can feel your heartbeat pounding against your chest as your legs keep you running. 

But then you slip. 

You swear you had felt a pull on your leg, but you couldn’t tell due to the murkiness of the water. You end up on your hands, your lower half is soaked, still in the water—you can’t even make out your reflection. You look closer at it, trying to see what could be underneath it. Suddenly, a hand pushes your head down. 

The dirty water fills up your nose and you struggle to escape from this person’s hold on you. As you’re submerged, you hear it. The familiar voice, but you can’t pinpoint where you’ve heard it. 

“Can you float?” 

You freeze, hearing those words. 

The hand lets go and you resurface, taking in a deep breath of much needed air. You look up at your tormentor, who looks down at you with a smirk. His teeth are sharpened, shining with the little light of the tunnel. His eyes are dark and long eyelashes curl on top of his eyelids. Raven-black bangs stick to his forehead—from sweat or water—you couldn’t tell. You look up a bit further, spotting the deviled horns on his head. 

You put it together. 

It’s Wonwoo. But, what’s he doing here? 

He tilts his head at you, pitying you as if you were a lost kitten. His lips fully curl from a smirk to a sinister smile. He lowers his head closer to you. 

“Can you float?” he asks. 

You don’t have the words to answer him; you don’t think you can find any. 

He asks again. “Can you float?” 

Before you say anything, he shoves your head underneath once more. 

It’s been two weeks since the sleepover (and the last time you had proper sleep). Classes have started up again, but you’re already tired. It isn’t even from the goddamned workload (which you are definitely not doing). Since the sleepover, you’ve had the same recurring nightmare over and over. Same place, same face. 

Right now, you sit at a table in the dining hall with a single coffee mug that’s already empty. You wait for your friends to arrive at the table, tapping away at your phone, trying to make yourself busy. 

“What’s up,” Chaeyoung says. She takes the seat in front of you and sets her plate on the table. She spots the sad coffee mug and looks between it and you, before asking. “Is that all you’re getting?” 

You set your phone down. “No, I also had a bowl of ice cream earlier.” 

“(Y/N), it’s noon.” 

“Sugar means energy.” 

She lets out a sigh—not surprised, just disappointed. You would think after knowing you for so long, she would get used to your horrible eating habits. She is your meal buddy after all. She takes a stab at her food. “So how was your mid-semester break?” 

“I think we both know that break is a joke.” 

“Still.” 

“Well, I got to meet up with some of my old friends, spent some time with family—you know, all the good stuff.” You lean on the table with an elbow propped up and a hand underneath your chin. “How was yours?” 

“Eh, I did the same thing. It was nice to chill for a bit, but then I remembered how many readings I have to do.” 

You force a smile at her. “I haven’t done any of mine.” 

She throws her head back with a laugh. You start laughing too, at yourself and at her. 

Yongsun comes around to the table. She sets down another cup of coffee for you, which you previously asked for, and her own plate as she sits herself next to you. She looks between you and Chaeyoung. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing really,” you say. “Just talking about how oh-so productive we’ve been since break.” 

She gives you a bitter look with regret evident on her face “That break is a joke. I got nothing done either.” 

“Glad to know everyone is on the same track.” You take a sip of your coffee. 

“No offense,” Chaeyoung says. “But you look really tired. Are you okay?” 

Yongsun laughs, nearly choking on her food. “It’s the exams creeping up, that’s why her eye bags are a darker shade.” 

Your eyebrows slightly rise. “Not wrong, but doesn’t mean I don’t feel attacked.” 

“Are you having trouble sleeping again?” Chaeyoung asks. 

Yongsun takes a closer look at you. “You know, now that she’s said something. She’s not wrong. Are you okay?” 

You sigh and take another big sip of the coffee. “My friends made me watch It.” 

“That’s all?” Chaeyoung asks. 

“Kind of.” You set the coffee down and lay your head on the table. “I’ve just been having the same nightmares for a while now and I can’t sleep.” 

“What do you see?” Yongsun asks. 

“Why? Are you going to psycho-analyze them like you do with the others?” Chaeyoung asks. 

“Absolutely.” 

“Oh my god.”

“Now,” Yongsun says. She fully turns to you, pointing at you with her spoon. “What happens in your nightmares?” 

You hesitate. “The nightmare overall…. it makes sense but there’s a piece that I can’t figure out.” 

“What?” Chaeyoung asks. “You know what, just explain the entire dream and we’ll figure it out.” 

You scratch the back of your ear, feeling a bit sheepish of the whole thing. “Do you guys know Jeon Wonwoo?” 

There’s a silence, but you can practically see them racking their memory for him. You look between them, seeing if either one of them would know him. It’s ideal that they don’t, but if they do, they could probably picture it better. 

“Jeon Wonwoo,” Yongsun mutters under her breath. She speaks louder the second time. “That name is so familiar but I can’t pinpoint where.” 

Chaeyoung looks confused as well. “I get that. I feel like I know him too.” 

“What does this have to do with anything?” 

You let out a long sigh. “Because my nightmares are essentially him just trying to kill me.” You don’t take notice of Yongsun’s frantic typing on her phone. “I don’t understand why it’s him specifically.” 

Chaeyoung hums, nodding along to what you’re saying. “Maybe it’s just a random face from memory—you could have just seen his face and now it’s stuck. Is he ugly or something?” 

“He’s in my ethics class,” you say. “And he’s definitely not ugly.” 

“So he’s attractive and trying to murder you?” 

“Mmhm, basically.” 

“Is there a kink you aren’t sharing with us?” 

“No, who wants to be murdered?” 

“There’s lots of college kids who want to be murdered, (Y/N),” Yongsun says. 

“Okay, fair point.” 

“In other news though.” Yongsun pauses and sets her phone down for all three of you to see. “I found him and I can confirm that he is hot.” 

You take a peek at the Facebook profile—the familiar face is in the little profile image and you shudder out of habit. You move away from the phone, feeling uncomfortable from his face. “Yup, that’s him.” 

“Jesus,” Chaeyoung says. She grabs the phone and zooms in on the image. “This is the face you’re seeing? How can someone look like that?” 

You grimace. “I can’t.” 

“What do you mean?” Yongsun asks. 

“I sit in the front, far away from him, so I don’t have to look at him anymore.” 

“What do you think this means?” Chaeyoung asks. 

“From my perspective,” Yongsun says. “Maybe you’re scared of how attractive he is.” 

You and Chaeyoung squint at her, both not understanding. She continues. “This can mean a lot of things. I need the context.” 

You try to recollect your dream memories. It isn’t hard, considering the fact that you’ve had the same nightmare for a couple of weeks. Although, there have been odd additions every once in a while. Just last night, you were on an empty road rather than a sewer. Sometimes there was the pile of children there and would start floating in front of you. Wonwoo stood in front of it, just staring at it, before turning his head to you to start shoving you into the water. 

You shrink in your seat. You feel like throwing up. 

“Well?” Yongsun asks. “Any details?” 

You grimace again. “I would rather not share while we’re eating.” 

Chaeyoung looks at you with a bit of worry in her eyes. “Do you think you’ll be okay?” 

“Yeah.” You drown the rest of your now-cold coffee down. “It’ll be fine. It’s not like Wonwoo’s a friend. How hard could it be to avoid him?”

Another restless week passes and you’re convinced your sleeping schedule will never bounce back. You rub your eyes, trying to wake yourself up somehow—it’s your third cup of coffee of the day and it’s done nothing for you. 

It’s 11:20am and class is supposed to start in ten minutes. The class is already half full of students. Everyone else fiddles with their phones, or talks to others about weekend plans. You sit in your seat with a laptop out, fully blanking out, but attempting to stay awake. Granted, you can just ditch, but attendance counts and if your GPA is below 3.0, you can kiss that scholarship goodbye. 

You groan from the thought of being in this class for an hour. You lay your head on the table, feeling the cold table pressed on your cheek, and closing your eyes for just a moment. 

Suddenly, a chill comes over you and you feel more awake than ever. You open your eyes, only to see Wonwoo walk in. His backpack is slung over one shoulder; he wears a soft, black cardigan that’s tugged on his hands to form sweater paws. He has his hair down, tousling through his bangs with his long fingers. He looks like such a soft boy. 

Despite his boyish looks, you felt your body physically react. Chills run up your spine and you felt the hairs on your arms raise. You feel more alert than you’ve been in weeks. You quickly sit up and straighten out your back at his presence. That’s right: you’re in ethics. You always forgot, until you came to class, see him and the nightmares become daytime horrors. 

You let out a sigh. Somehow, you feel more exhausted than before, despite feeling more awake in Wonwoo’s presence. Once the professor arrives, she immediately starts her lecture. Frankly, you can’t even remember what she’s talking about. It all goes in one ear and out the other. You simply type away, your note page expanding as each minute passes. 

An hour eventually passes and you let out a breath of relief. 

“Alright class,” she says. “Remember for the next class, we will be working on our papers, so bring those laptops fully charged and be prepared for discussion.” 

Everyone, including yourself, groans. 

“We need to start preparing for the final and, from my previous feedback, I hear this is really helpful. So, prepare yourselves.” Your professor shuts off the monitor and starts to shut her books. “Now, get out.” 

No one had to be told twice; everyone practically floods out of the room, ready to take a nap or eat, or whatever else college kids do. With the combination of your previous exhaustion and the lecture, you were moving slower than usual, not wanting to tire yourself out further. You could feel your body nearly shutting down again. You close your eyes once more as you rotate your neck around. Once again, you feel the chills creep up your back.

You follow your instincts and open your eyes, spotting Wonwoo from the corner of your eye. Unknowingly, you flinch, immediately looking away from him. He tries to smile in your direction on his way out, but you move your body away from him, trying to look preoccupied as you shove your books into your bag. 

Once he leaves, you let out a long sigh you didn’t realize you held in. Resting your head on the table, you close your eyes—only to see the images of Wonwoo from your nightmares with devil horns. You sit back up, rubbing your eyes and trying to shake the sight of him out of your mind. 

This is going to be harder than you thought. 

“Paging Sleeping Beauty, are you awake?” 

You slowly sit up from the library table, trying to keep your eyes awake as you lean on your hand. “Yes, sir. I am physically present.” 

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow at you. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“When am I ever okay?” 

“Fair.” He sets down his books in front of you and takes a seat. “How much did you get done?” 

“I just finished the draft and took a lil nap.” 

“In a public space?” 

“I didn’t get robbed. I’m fine.” 

He blinks at you, shakes his head and tries to move on from the odd comment. “Anyways,” he says, pulling out his laptop. “I finished my essay earlier during class, so.” 

“So it might be garbage?” 

“Hell no.” He opens the laptop, mindlessly moving the mouse around. “I’m just saying, consider the conditions when you read this. I was in a highly stressed environment.” 

Seungkwan and you have the same professor for ethics (just at different times), so it only made sense to work together for this paper. You two knew each other from a previous class and bonded over a mutual friend of yours, Soonyoung. Obviously, suffering is the only way to bond with other college students, hence your blossomed friendship with Seungkwan. 

You rub your eyes, trying to keep yourself awake in front of his laptop. But, it doesn’t help and the words start to blur together. After the third sentence, you lean back and close your eyes in an attempt to regain your focus. 

“Hey.” You feel his hand on your shoulder. “(Y/N), are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” You reopen your eyes, to see concern in Seungkwan’s eyes. He doesn’t even have to ask for you to answer. “I just haven’t been getting much sleep lately and there’s only so many sleeping pills a person can take.” 

“Is it stress?” 

“Not… not exactly.” 

He raises an eyebrow, leaning his chin on his hand. “Do tell, (Y/N). If not stress, is it a lover?” 

You give him an unamused look at his teasing. “Ha ha. No.” You shift in your seat. “I’ve been having nightmares about this guy in my class.” 

“Ooooh?” 

“Stop it.” 

He pouts. “Can you at least tell me who? I might know who it is.”

You rub the back of your neck, feeling a bit apprehensive. The problem is that he does know everyone. Apparently, everyone else seems to know Wonwoo, one way or another. He does have that reputation of looking like a moody emo bad boy. The fact that he’s good looking means he gets away with being creepy. But then again, he is polite to everyone—a very well mannered boy. You sigh, feeling the exhaustion hit all at once.

“I have a suspicion that you know who it is,” you say. You let out another sigh. “It’s Wonwoo.” 

His eyes sparkle with interest. “Jeon? Jeon Wonwoo??” 

You let out another sigh and place your head in your arms, muffling the groans you make. “Jesus, of course you know him.” 

He makes a face. “Why?” Before you can answer him, he leans closer to you. “What’d he do?” 

You can feel yourself inwardly cringing before the words even come out. You feel embarrassed about making a big deal about this small thing. “He’s done nothing to me. He’s just scary.” 

“Wonwoo is one of the least scary people I know.” He moves away, looking off into the distance as if to collect his thoughts. “Minghao… He’s on that list, but Wonwoo? He’s like a scared cat…” At this point, he’s just mumbling to himself. 

You look up, resting your head on your folded arms. “Earth to Seungkwan?” 

“Right, back to you.” He pauses. “So these nightmares, are they that bad that you’re losing this much sleep?” 

You nod. 

“Wow, is he that scary to you?” 

“Well, considering in the dream that he’s trying to murder me… I would say he’s pretty scary.” 

“Okay, but what’d you think about him before?” 

“Before what?” 

“Like, before you started dreaming about his face and death.” 

You blink, staring at him for a bit, lost in thought. You haven’t really thought about Wonwoo without the devil horns, but then again, you don’t really talk to him. It’s a required class, so there’s a lot of people in this lecture hall. Also, it’s a lecture hall, it’s not like people have a chance to interact with one another. The only reason why you’ve heard of him is because of your mutual friends. You admit though, he is attractive. 

But you couldn’t let Seungkwan know that. He would never let it go and he’s friends with Wonwoo. Who knows what he’d do with this information. 

“I was neutral about him,” you say. “Since I don’t really know much about him.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t even find him attractive?” 

You grumble as you begin to sit up. “Can we not talk about this and go back to suffering?” 

“Ugh.” He throws his head back in a dramatic fashion. “I wanted the tea though.” 

“This ain’t a tea shop honey, so I’m not giving you any.” You put your attention back to his laptop. “Let me just go over this draft and you can trash mine.” 

You push your laptop towards him with the draft of your paper open. 

He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Fine, but I want details later.” 

“Boba break?” 

“Boba break.” 

Your professor sets down her books on the podium. “Alright class, please pull out your drafts. Your classroom partners are already assigned on the classroom page. If you can’t find it, it’s also on the projector.” 

Your eyes don’t move away from your computer screen. The list of peer review partners has been pulled up and you scroll through it to find yours. You can only stare once you spot it. 

(Y/N) and Wonwoo

This can’t be right. 

You look from your screen to the projector. Your names are clear on the screen. 

(Y/N) and Wonwoo

Someone clears their throat, snapping you out of your inner panic. “You’re (Y/N), right?” 

To your right, Wonwoo stands with his messenger bag, a couple of textbooks in his hands, and a polite smile on his face. You can only nod, feeling the chills run up your back. He takes the empty spot next to you and sets down his things. Having him sit so close to you… it’s even scarier than you even imagined. 

He glances at you with a small smile. Ugh, he is handsome. You’ll give him that.

As he turns his head, you get a closer look at his profile. In an instant, you see the devil-horned image of him flash. You shudder, turning away and wordlessly setting your laptop closer to him. 

You manage to speak up, but it gets quieter as you talk. “Here’s my draft. You should be able to make comments… suggestions or something…” 

He gives another smile (although you don’t see it) and hands you his laptop. “I have my draft on here too. I’m sorry, but it’s still a bit messy.”

His voice is so soft, despite his cold features. You take another glance at him to take his laptop. Your hands brush against his and you try to ignore the goosebumps that raise on your arms—whether it’s from fear, you can’t tell. 

For a while, it’s quiet. Everyone is working on peer-editing their partner’s drafts, including you and Wonwoo. You both read through one another’s drafts. Ugh, he’s such a good writer. This was supposed to be a rough draft, but he makes it look like the final draft. This thesis makes sense; the support from the text is present; the counter-argument is made and redirected back to the thesis. Meanwhile, your draft probably looks even more half-assed than you originally intended for it to be. 

You go through the document again to try to give some feedback on his draft, despite how hard it is to make something up. By the end, you only manage to give him three comments. Turns out, you had finished earlier than you’d thought. You look around, seeing everyone still working and interacting with their partners, before looking over at him.

He stares intensely at your screen, still scrolling through the hot mess you call a rough draft. Every couple of seconds, he types a comment and you feel yourself flinch at how hard he presses on the keyboard. You knew it wasn’t the best, but there’s no way for it to be the most awful thing you’ve written. You hadn’t even realized you’ve been staring until he turns his body towards you. 

You lightly flinch at the sudden eye contact and, unconsciously, inch away from him. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he sets your laptop next to you. 

“I wrote a couple of recommendations as to how you could expand on your argument further. I think you have a solid thesis and the evidence you provide from the texts are very strong. I didn’t know what else I could add, so I did the best I could to add some comments to help. You don’t have to use them, but they were just some ideas I thought you could use.” 

He gives you another smile and you couldn’t help to feel a bit touched. Typically, people half ass these types of assignments. To see that he actually put effort into it and even added in ideas you can use... 

You push his laptop further away from you and he immediately scrolls through it, before you can get a word in. That’s probably why the word vomit began and you haphazardly try to explain things, without even looking at him in the eye. 

“I couldn’t really add in as much as you did. I thought it was really well thought out and made some really good points. I just made a couple of comments on word choice, grammar, and how it all connects. You’re a really good writer so you don’t have to really pay attention to these things. They really don’t make a big difference or anything. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you anything particularly helpful…” 

You trail off from your nervous rambling, glancing up at him to take in his reaction. He looks rather sheepish; his hand rubs the back of his neck and light blush dusts his cheeks. 

“It’s really nothing… I’m not that good…” 

This vision of Wonwoo is definitely a 180 from your nightmares. The stoic and heartless image of Wonwoo with devil horns flashes once again. But then, you take another look at him. All you see a shy boy, flushed from a couple of compliments from a classmate he doesn’t even talk to—well, at least, until now. 

You both sit there for a bit in silence, fiddling with your laptops in an attempt to work on your drafted papers. From what you can read, he put a lot of thought into his recommendations. After about five minutes, as the conversation around you begins to stir up again, he turns his body to you. 

“Are the comments okay?” He pauses. “Were they able to help you?” 

You hum and give a small nod. “I think with your suggestions this paper will be a bit easier to write.. I’m sorry for not being able to help you much with yours.” 

He speaks in a small voice that you almost don’t hear. “You did help though…” 

You give him a sheepish smile. “Not really. I gained more from this than you were able to… it’s unfair, sorry...”

“You shouldn’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong, you tried your best.” 

You let out a light laugh. “Did I though? I’m sure you’ve gotten more helpful feedback from other people.” 

“Well, most people here don’t really care about this since this doesn’t ‘count for points.’” 

“You’ve got a point.” 

“Alright,” your professor says. “Considering how much you’re all talking, I’m assuming you’re done exchanging your drafts. If you’re done, you can leave. Consider it a reward for finishing early.” 

You start to pack your things, as does Wonwoo. The both of you remain silent for a while, but, as you get up to leave, he speaks up with a soft voice. 

“Did you want to work together on this paper later sometime?” 

Before you can answer, he continues. “I just meant, like… I know you and Seungkwan work together and I was wondering if I could join you two or something. You don’t have to! I was just curious since Seungkwan and I work on it together too and I just thought it would be good if we all meet up.. together or something…” 

“Oh…” Frankly, you didn’t even know they were working on the essay together too. No wonder Seungkwan’s draft was so good—that son of a bitch. On one hand, you already know Seungkwan is most likely to agree. On the other hand, you are still unsure you’re mentally prepared to willingly spend more time with him. 

He’s nice, but you’re apprehensive as to how your brain is going to interrupt this. Who knows what your unconscious can unload? What if he transforms into a demon in your next dream? What if he turns into one of those gross monster-sized spiders and eats you whole? 

Another chill runs down your spine, but you fake an unbothered smile. “I’ll talk to Seungkwan.” 

He smiles back; it’s small, but genuine. 

You sit at the library, tapping your fingers on the table as you wait anxiously for the boys’ arrival. You flip your phone over again, to check the time and any new text notifications from Seungkwan. You were starting to regret all your life’s decisions. Okay, maybe that’s too dramatic—even for you. But, you are regretting your decision of joining Seungkwan and Wonwoo’s study session. 

To be honest, when you said you would talk to Seungkwan, that was 100% a lie. So, when you get a text from Seungkwan… you are more than shocked to find that he has oh-so graciously arranged the study session for you. That also meant getting a couple of pokes from him. 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. As if he knew someone was talking shit, he enters the library and easily spots you in your usual corner. He drops his backpack onto the table and sits himself across from you, pulling out his laptop and textbooks. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I had a couple of questions for my professor and…. I forgot how much that man likes to talk.” 

“Hm, sounds like someone I know.” 

“Ha ha, very funny (Y/N).” He opens his laptop and starts to skim through his books, but, eventually, he gets bored and looks back at you.

You feel his eyes on you and look up from your own laptop. “What?” 

“From our last conversation, you said you were scared of Wonwoo.” Save it for Seungkwan to be blunt rather than beating around the bush. 

“I didn’t say that—” 

“It was implied.” 

Your lips purse, finding yourself at a loss of words. “What about it?” you mumble, shrinking into your seat. 

“Soooo,” Seungkwan says. “Why did you agree to the study group?” 

You frown, squinting at him. “I’m sorry, but who decided to put us all into a group chat???” Your frown becomes a pout. “You can’t just put me in a group chat, ask about a meeting time, and think I’m going to be the asshole who says ‘oh no, I can’t make it.’ Then have you point out that I’m not doing anything.” 

He shines a bright smile at you, ignoring your negative tone. “You wouldn’t have joined so otherwise.” 

“Ha! So it was a ruse!” 

“Of course it was.” He leans back to his seat. “You were so scared of him—look at you now, you’re making plans with him.” 

“You made the plans.” 

He waves a finger at you, “Semantics.” 

You can only roll your eyes at him and type away, trying to sort out and prioritize on your latest assignments. “Why do you care so much about what I think about him?” 

He blinks and you swear, for a second, he seems to have run out of words. You raise an eyebrow at his silence. 

“Well... “ He stammers. “I—I just... just want all of my friends… to—to get along and be… friends.” 

Your eyebrows furrow and you hum along, but you don’t believe a single thing he says. “It’s all the subconscious. I never had a problem with him in the first place.” 

“Problem with who?” 

You both turn around to see Wonwoo and another boy standing next to you two. From the unfamiliar voice, you can assume it was said by Mingyu—the other participating victim in the groupchat Seungkwan made. 

“No one,” Seungkwan says. “Problem with no one—right, (Y/N)?” 

You can only stare wide-eyed as you glance between them. “Yes, what he said.” 

Mingyu laughs. “Uhm, okay.” 

They both seat themselves at the table with you and Seungkwan—Wonwoo on one side and Mingyu on the other. They both give you a friendly smile and start to pull out their materials. You can only smile back awkwardly, typing away at your laptop. 

“No offense,” Mingyu says. “I’m glad to be here, but I’m confused why I’m here.” 

“It’s a study group and you’re our friend,” Seungkwan says. 

“We’re not in the same class.” 

“Moral support.” 

“For what?” 

He glances at you, which makes you narrow your eyes at him. He turns his attention back to Mingyu. “For things.” 

Mingyu raises his eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“So,” Wonwoo says. “Shall we get started?” 

“What should we start on?” you ask. 

“I was thinking maybe the essay since that’s due the soonest,” Seungkwan says. 

You all nod along, even Mingyu. 

“So, I’m not involved either way,” Mingyu says. “This is fine, I totally don’t feel left out.” 

Seungkwan shrugs. “You can do other assignments too.” 

Mingyu pouts and his silent sulking is ignored. 

You and Wonwoo chuckle at their antics. “Sorry buddy,” he says. “This plan wasn’t scheduled well.” 

“Hey!” 

Wonwoo ignores Seungkwan and turns to you. “Were you able to work on the essay?” 

You shift in your seat, feeling awkward from suddenly being in his direct line of vision. “Yeah, I did—it’s coming along. Thanks again, by the way.” 

“It’s not a problem. I’m glad I could help,” he says. “Did you want me to look at it?” 

Your eyes widen, meeting Seungkwan’s, who makes a face. To be honest, you haven’t worked on it since you opened it during class and you’re too embarrassed to say you’ve been procrastinating. It’s due in two days and who says you can’t write an essay in one night (who isn’t a professor). 

“Are you having trouble concentrating again?” Seungkwan asks. Before you can answer, he interjects himself. “Is this because you’re still having sleeping problems? Dude, just keep popping those pills.” 

The other two’s attention have been turned to you. You inwardly groan from the eyes and try to focus on Seungkwan—but your body responds for you with a grimace. “Can you not say it like that? It’s melatonin and they’re technically vitamins.” 

“Hmmm, sure.” 

“You have sleeping problems?” Mingyu asks. 

You sheepishly rub the back of your neck. “Yeah, it’s not that big of a deal though.” 

Seungkwan snorts. “Sure it isn’t. It’s not like you were nearly falling asleep when editing my essay just a couple of days ago.” 

You smile. “I bought you boba though.” 

“But can I really be bribed?” 

“Of course not,” you say. “Because no one can afford your high maintenance.” 

Seungkwan’s jaw drops from your bluntness, but there’s a small smile in it. Mingyu doubles over in laughter and Wonwoo tries to hold his in—the smile on his face gives it away, causing you to laugh as well. 

Seungkwan quickly straightens up in defense. “This is what I get for trying to be nice.” 

You give him another teasing smile. 

“Okay, okay,” Mingyu says. “How bad is this sleeping problem?” 

“It’s..” You click your tongue, recalling as to how bad your sleep schedule has been since these nightmares began. “It’s really bad, dude.” 

“You know,” he says, turning his body towards you. “There are foods good for sleep.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, one time I made this banana almond parfait.” 

“Oooh, sounds fancy—”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Seungkwan says. “But I doubt that’s going to help (Y/N)’s situation.” 

“Why not?” Wonwoo asks. 

You’d almost forgotten he was there for a second. 

“It’s a subconscious thing.” 

Wait a second. 

“So it’s psychological problems?” Mingyu asks. He props his chin into his hands. “Do tell.” 

You stifle a laugh. 

Wonwoo is the one who speaks for you. “Mingyu, you just met her and you already want to open up her psyche?” 

“What’s a better way to get to know someone?” 

“Anything else, bro.” 

Mingyu’s lips purse, then form into a pout. “Booooooooo.” 

“Okay,” you say. “Let’s just move on. We actually have to work on this essay.” 

“Boooooo!” 

“Shut up, Seungkwan.” 

“I don’t care what anyone else says,” Chaeyoung says. “Lizard people are real.”

Yongsun nods along, digging her spoon further into her ice cream. “I’d buy into it. Matthew McConaughey has a lizard smile.” 

You can only sigh in disappointment and put your head in your hands. “Why am I friends with you people?” 

Your comment is ignored and Chaeyoung continues to talk. “Controversial statement: Shawn Mendez? Lizard person.” 

“Oh my God, he kind of does.” Yongsun shows her screen to the both of you. “He has the same lizard smile as Matthew.” 

As the two continue to converse other celebrities with lizard qualities, you sit at the other side of the booth, playing with your food. Dining hall food isn’t great, but it is free. What’s the point of these dinners, if you’re just going to want to throw it back up from these types of conversations? 

A couple of weeks ago, y’all had a whole conversation as to how Ted Bundy got away from his crimes for such a long time (to be honest, he wasn’t even really attractive so….). Then, last week, y’all talked about white boy names—the looks you got from people with those names were absolutely hilarious. Side note: you don’t give a solid shit to anyone named Todd (what Todd have you met that WASN’T an asshole?). 

By now, you’ve just learned to sit back and let these topics just… happen. At some point, these conversations are going to bite you in the ass. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You look up from your plate. 

“I thought that was you,” Mingyu says with a smile. 

You return it with one of yours. “Hey, Mingyu, right?” 

“Yeah! I’m Seungkwan’s friend—although, I’m more known for being Wonwoo’s.” He pauses, before mumbling to himself. “And Jungkook’s…” 

“Wonwoo?” Chaeyoung asks. 

“Jeon Wonwoo?” Yongsun adds. 

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “You know him?” 

“We’ve heard of him,” Yongsun says, nudging your rib. You smack her elbow away. 

Chaeyoung scoots herself over. “If you want, you can sit with us.” 

“Sure,” he says. “I have class in an hour, so I have time.” He sits himself next to her and looks between you and the other girls. “So, what are we talking about?” 

Yongsun swallows her ice cream, pointing her spoon at him. “Lizard people.” 

You push her spoon out of the way. “Can we please move away from this subject?” 

“They! Are! Here!” Chaeyoung bangs her fists on the table, along each syllable. 

You put your head back into your hands. “Oh my God. You need to stay off the internet.” 

“Lizard people…” Mingyu says slowly. “What is this exactly?” 

You look up, eyes wide and warning. “You do not want to ask her that.” 

“So, there are theories that some people roam around Earth—” 

“And, so it begins.” 

Chaeyoung ignores you. “—as lizards. They are living amongst us and planning to overthrow the human race.” 

“We’ve possibly identified a couple of them,” Yongsun says. “Hear us out. Matthew McConaughey and Shawn Mendez. Thoughts?” 

“You do not have to answer them, by the way,” you say to him. 

As if Mingyu was possessed by someone else, he nods along as he listens. “I could definitely see that. They have weird face structures.” 

Your jaw drops from his participation in your weird dinner discussions. Your respect for him as a person has dropped. “Dude, don’t encourage them!” 

Chaeyoung points at him, as if he isn’t present. “I like him better than that Wonwoo guy.” 

“Ditto,” Yongsun says. 

“I thought you guys didn’t know him?” Mingyu asks. His head tilts to the side—for a second, he looks like a puppy. 

“We don’t,” Yongsun says. She slurps up the remaining ice cream melting from her bowl. “(Y/N) mentioned him and we looked him up—he’s just as hot as (Y/N) said.” 

Your cheeks flush and you flick some of your water in her direction. “That’s not what I said!” 

Her lips purse in response and she continues to slurp from her bowl. Meanwhile, Chaeyoung gives you a look, which you refuse to acknowledge. 

On the other hand, Mingyu’s attention has been turned to you in interest. His eyebrow raises and you start to squirm. 

“So,” he says with a twirl of his fork. “What have you said about Wonwoo?” 

You’d honestly thought this conversation was behind you, especially since you had dodged away from the topic during your study group a couple of days ago. The difference between Seungkwan and these two is that these two have very little regard for your opinion. While they are your friends, they are also very invasive and you are very sure that they will ignore your protests. It’s almost as if they had heard your thoughts—they answer the question for you. 

“She said he’s attractive,” Chaeyoung says. 

“Technically,” Yongsun says. “She said he wasn’t ugly and I think she also said he murders her.” 

Mingyu turns to you with surprise. 

Just when you thought you had died before, you were sure that you have died now and were stuck in your customized purgatory hell. 

“That,” you say into your hands. “Was not what I said.” 

Yongsun squints at you. “Are you sure? Because I distinctly remember you defining your death kink with those weird dreams.” 

You stare at her for a while before deciding on what to say. “Are you on crack? I was sure that your crackhead energy was drained last week during your history exam.” 

“How dare you? I am completely sober.” 

“Debatable.” 

You both turn back to the other two at the table, where Chaeyoung continues to eat and Mingyu stares off with confusion evident in his features. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But what’s the piece I’m missing?” 

“I’ll give you a short version,” Chaeyoung says. “You see, (Y/N) has been dreaming about Wonwoo murdering her and we think it’s a loo—hey!” She grabs a napkin to wipe her, now, wet hair. 

You give her a bright, fake smile as she playfully glares at you and the glass of water you’ve flicked on her. Yongsun chuckles at your antics and turns to Mingyu. “Either way, it’s 100% repression.” 

“Repression of what exactly?” you ask. 

“Attraction,” Yongsun points out. 

You flick some more water at her, ignoring her yelps. You turn your attention to Mingyu. “Ignore them and everything they’ve said because it isn’t true.” 

“Lies!” Chaeyoung says. “Yongsun’s right. It’s probably repression because Wonwoo is definitely hot—stop throwing water at me!” 

You ignore her once again, flicking more water from your glass. “I did not say he was hot. I just admitted that he wasn’t ugly!” 

As you continue to attack your friends with your water, Mingyu stays silent, but makes note from the conversation. Oh, how things will become more interesting….

You continue to type on your laptop, wrapping the conclusion paragraph with one last sentence. You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” you mutter under your breath. This god forbidden essay is done and you can easily turn it in. You look up from your screen, where Wonwoo continues to type on his. 

His glasses sit on the edge of his nose and his eyes are narrowed, as if to physically focus on the words. You have to admit: the glasses suit him and his oversized sweater. While he has worn them every once in a while, this is one of the rare times you’ve seen him this close up. He looks like a soft boy molded from a John Green book. 

You look a glance around and, seeing how he’s gathered the attention of a few people, you can tell you aren’t the only one who’s noticed. To be fair, if it wasn’t for your nightmares, you would be a lot more attracted to him. 

Admittedly, it has been nice to spend this time with him—you managed to reduce some of those nightmares and get a bit more sleep. You might even admit that he’s a friend more than just a classmate now. 

Speaking of friends, Seungkwan and Mingyu are pretty late. It’s been 20 minutes of just you and Wonwoo. You don’t mind, but you all made a plan to meet here (since the essay is due tonight). 

“Are you done with your essay already?” 

Wonwoo’s voice snaps you out of your inner ramblings. You look towards his direction, freezing from the sudden eye contact. “Huh?” 

He clears his throat. “Are you... done? With the essay?” 

“Ah, kind of. It’s probably bad, but it’s done.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine. Let me see.” He gestures to your laptop. 

“Compared to your English major ass?” You pull the laptop closer to you. “No.” 

“(Y/N),” he says with a sigh. “I’m sure it’s not even bad.” He gets ahold of the top of your laptop, lightly tugging it away from your grasp. You can only pout as the device is taken away from your hold and he begins to read. You place your chin into your hands, watching Wonwoo’s eyes dance from sentence to sentence. 

You didn’t realize how long you’d been staring until he makes eye contact with you and sets your laptop back near you. If he noticed, he doesn’t say anything about it. 

Wonwoo adjusts his glasses, pushing them closer to the bridge of his nose. When his face comes to view, there’s a small smile. “I told you your essay was fine. In fact, you could probably turn it in right now.” 

Your lips purse, considering the idea, even though you were already planning to. Originally, you wanted Seungkwan to check it too—especially since he saw the real rough draft of it, which was a blank document. 

“I kind of wanted to wait for Seungkwan,” you say. “Since we all agreed to do it together.” 

He nods along with your words. “It makes sense.” He looks at you with a head tilt, thinking aloud. “Where is Seungkwan?”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” you say with a small laugh. “Is Mingyu coming?” 

He checks his phone, wrinkling his nose as he squints at the screen and scrolls through his messages. “Honestly, I have no idea—last time I checked, he was supposed to.” 

“Yeah, I ran into him yesterday and I assumed he was coming too.” 

“Oh yeah,” Wonwoo says. “How was the lunch?” 

“It was actually pretty funny beca—” You stop. You didn’t mention anything about lunch… so, how did he know about that? Your eyes narrow at him. “Did Mingyu tell you already?” 

“Uh.” Wonwoo’s eyes shift. “Kind of?” He hunches a bit more over his own laptop, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Mingyu basically tells me everything.” 

Mingyu basically tells me everything. 

Oh, no. 

You try to recall exactly as to the different topics during that one hour lunch with him. He was almost late to his class, since he was in a heavy debate with Yongsun and Chaeyoung as to whether or not Perry the Platypus cosplayers are considered furries… 

It was a conversation that you had to be there for, in order for the context to be understood. 

There was also the topic of whether Twilight should be watched for ironic purposes and/or the cinematic value of it. There was also discussion about what was the weakest element—which Yongsun was debating on the side of water. 

You were getting off track; curse your friends for having such bizarre conversations. That line shouldn’t have triggered you, but for some reason, it feels off—as if there was something you were forgetting. You look at Wonwoo, who’s sitting across from you with flushed cheeks.

Wait a second. 

She said he’s attractive. 

Death kink with those weird dreams. 

(Y/N) has been dreaming about Wonwoo murdering her. 

Just when you thought things were just starting to become normal-ish between you two. 

Your face flushes as you remember all the things your friends said… which were most likely echoed to Wonwoo through Mingyu (seeing how much blush is present on his face). 

There’s only one thing you can say. “I can explain.” 

He lets out a little, breathless laugh—but it sounds more like an uncomfortable one. 

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, I swear.” 

He pushes his glasses up once more. “You—you don’t have to.” 

“It’s okay,” you say. “I should explain myself. It’s not supposed to sound as bad as they made it out to be and it’s not even your fault. I don’t even know why my subconscious chose your face out of anyone else’s. Yongsun said it’s repression, but you probably already know that and—” You sigh. “I’m—I’m sorry.” 

“For what? It’s not really your fault.” 

“Yeah, but I guess, it’s just in general.” Your fingers glaze over the keyboard, absentmindedly toying with the keys. “Over break, I watched a horror movie with my friends and then I started getting nightmares. Again, I don’t know why your face was there, but… it just was.” 

“I’m not mad,” Wonwoo says. “And it’s not your fault—you don’t have to apologize.” 

There’s a small silence, which is just you and Wonwoo looking at one another with wide eyes, unsure as to what happens next. 

“I will say,” Wonwoo says with a small voice. “I’m a bit flattered.” 

“That I dream of you murdering me?” 

“No.” He lets out a small laugh. “That your subconscious ‘chose my face.’” 

You chuckle rather sheepishly when he took the words from your previous rambling. “Yeah… Seungkwan suggested that it was just a face that was most memorable.” You let out a long sigh. “And Yongsun likes to psychoanalyze into things.” 

“So, do you… think my face… is attractive?” 

You look up at him from your keyboard, only to see him dodging your eyes. His Adam's apple moves as he swallows. On the table, you can see that his hands are curled underneath the sweater paws, moving as he fiddles with his fingers. You can feel yourself shrinking into your seat, shyness overpowering you. 

“Well….” you say. “You are… attractive…” You say the last part quieter than you intended, but Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours once the words are said. 

His face turns a shade darker and he smiles a bit wider than before. “Even.. Even if I was part of a nightmare?” 

You nod, but look off to the side to shake off the embarrassment. 

“I think you’re attractive too.” 

Your head turns to him, but his concentration is back to his laptop. While he can act like he didn’t say anything all he wants, the redness of his ears give his emotions away. You press your lips to repress your smile. 

A bag being thrown into the table interrupts your moment. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Seungkwan says, clearly out of breath. “This ladder here wanted to stop by Starbucks and there was a line.” 

“How was I supposed to know?” Mingyu yells. 

“It’s Starbucks! You should have known!” 

“You couldn’t have sent a text?” you ask. 

“My phone died,” he says with a pout. “Speaking of which, do you have a charger??” 

You can only sigh in disappointment, but rummage through your bag nevertheless. “You’re lucky I brought this one.” 

“You’re a lifesaver.” 

“I know, I know. Now sit down and shut up, people are looking.” 

When you open your eyes, you’re running—from what, you are unsure of. This tunnel is nearly pitch black dark. A part of you is calm, but the other is panicking. Probably due to previous experiences you’ve had in this subconscious. You continue to run, refusing to look back at whatever remains behind you, but you can hear its footsteps echoing. 

Your shoes are soaked and continue to splash against the muddy waters, as you continue to run. It stays dark for so long, but then it gets lighter, as if the sun poured itself into the tunnel. The footsteps stop. Whatever’s behind you diminishes. 

But you can’t stop running towards the light, which burns closer and closer. The light embraces you, shining brightly and bouncing along your surroundings. You try to shield your eyes from the sun, only to be greeted by shimmers. Your vision starts to clear, enough for you to identify your surroundings. 

You’re at the park. But what for? 

You stand in the grass, surrounded by trees and rose bushes. The flowers are just in bloom, blossoming towards you, as if you were the sun itself. The skies are clear of clouds and the sun shines down, but it isn’t beating. Butterflies flutter and graze above the ground, but they don’t get close enough to you. The birds are chirping lightly, sounding like a song’s melody. The air is fresh and the aura is soothing. 

As you walk through, you start to soak in the aroma. To the side, you notice a small hill with, no doubt, the best view. A picnic blanket is laid out, along with plates and other objects. 

Someone else is also there. 

It’s a familiar figure, but you can’t make out who it is from the distance. 

You call out. “Hello?” 

The figure turns and there Wonwoo sits.  He has his glasses intact, but, instead of the casual wear, he’s a bit more dressed up—his white button-up showcases his nicely built chest and his slacks reveals how long his legs are. 

He smiles at you, white pearls sparkling and eyes shining—you feel as if it’s almost like the buds have bloomed as well. For a moment, you think you’re stuck in a picture. 

And then the wind blows, brushing his hair against his forehead. 

“Are you coming, (Y/N)?” 

---

Your eyes shoot open. The warmness in your chest is gone and is replaced by the coldness of your sheets. You shift under the covers and attempt to sit up. 

The grogginess stays, but one thing remains in your mind—what was that and why did the dream change? 

It’s 11:15am once again and you sit at your unofficial reserved spot. Your head lies on the desk, awaiting for the other students and your professor to arrive at the lecture hall. Tiredness continues to overpower you as your eyes consistently flutter to shut and reopen. 

A knock on the table interrupts your attempted naptime. You look up to see Wonwoo’s face above yours. He gives you a small smile as he sets his bag on the seat next to yours. From his presence, you sit yourself up and rub your eyes, in an attempt to wake yourself. 

“Are you tired?” he asks. 

You can feel yourself internally curling from his close proximity. “Yeah, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He lets out a small, airy laugh. With a shake of his head, he jokes. “Still getting nightmares about me murdering you?” 

A blush creeps up to your face. “Ha… Not really,” you say. It’s not like it’s a lie, but it’s not exactly the truth. You unconsciously move yourself a bit further from him as you recall the image of him surrounded by roses. “It’s probably just insomnia—bad sleeping habits most likely piled up.” 

He nods, humming along as you speak. He rummages through his bag, pulling out his laptop and notebook. His side profile is illuminated through the sunshine that’s reflected on the window. He looks like he’s sparkling… 

You quickly turn away as soon as he moves his head towards your direction. God, you were starting to stare a lot more than usual. You shake your head as you try to refocus on what you were doing. 

What were you doing? 

Closing your eyes, you try to regain your train of thought—only for you to lose it immediately after. You eventually decide to pull out your laptop and open up your lecture notes. On another tab, you see the essay that you’ve already turned in. 

“Oh,” you say. You turn back to Wonwoo, “I almost forgot, did your essay turn out okay?” 

“Yeah, it took a little bit of editing but I turned it in on time.” 

“I’m sure it turned out great,” you say. “You’re definitely getting an A.” He gives you another shy smile and his cheeks start to blush. You shift into your seat, trying to find a comfortable position. “You’re really smart anyways,” you mumble. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” you say. “Nothing at all.” 

“Well, I’m sure you’re getting an A too,” he says. “It was really well put together. At least, from what I remember.” 

“Ehh.” You shrug your shoulders. “We’ll see.” 

“Give yourself more credit, (Y/N),” he says in a softer tone. “You’re really smart and it’s okay for you to brag.” He turns his attention back to his laptop. His red ears have made a return. 

On the other hand, you position yourself in your seat to straighten up and hide your smile. You take the opportunity to glance around, noticing the other students who’ve entered the lecture hall. Others are starting to enter as well. 

You check the time on your laptop and it looks like it’s time for class to begin. Your professor arrives as well and sets up her materials. 

“Open up your textbooks and turn to page 304. We’ll start with the four categories of ethical theories.” 

Without turning from your laptop screen, your hand hovers over the textbook in your bag, but Wonwoo’s whisper interrupts your movement. 

“Did you forget your book? I’ll share mine with you.” 

You should probably say no, but your hand speaks for you, moving away from the bag. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.” 

He gives another smile, leaning closer as he scoots the book towards you. Your professor continues to lecture, going over the slide’s content, but you can’t concentrate—not when Wonwoo’s this close. He smells like fresh laundry, the kind that you want to wrap yourself in before the warmth is gone. When you look at him, the sparkles return, along with the image of him from your dreams. 

“Hold up,” Seungkwan says. “Yongsun thought that water is the weakest element? It’s clearly fire.” 

“That’s what I said!” Mingyu yells. He sighs in disappointment from the recollection of the conversation and moves his strawberry milkshake to the side. “Fire is just a stupid element that can be destroyed by water AND all living things need water in order to survive. There are so many benefits to water and—” He stops himself with another sigh and takes a long sip of his milkshake. 

Next to him, you shake your head with a small laugh. Taking a fry from your plate for a bite, you can only observe and let the conversation take its course. While your focus remains on the other two, your eyes glance over towards Wonwoo, who sits in front of you. 

“I think earth is debatable,” Wonwoo says. “But, I feel like fire is the weakest due to the fact that it’s more destructive rather than productive.” 

While the essay was already due, Seungkwan invited you to dinner at a nearby diner. You figured that it’d be nice to not eat dining hall food for once, so you agreed. But when you got there, you didn’t expect Mingyu and Wonwoo to already be there—hence your current position in front of Wonwoo, next to Mingyu, in a booth, while they’re arguing about the strongest element. 

You blame Yongsun and Chaeyoung for this chaos; if they hadn’t pulled him into this conversation, he wouldn’t have brought it up now—which also dragged Seungkwan and Wonwoo into the discourse. 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you say. You continue to gnaw away at your fries, even when all three of their eyes land on you. Typically you’d refuse to engage in these conversations, but you refuse to let them walk around without an argument. 

Seungkwan clears his throat, as if he was asking you to elaborate. Meanwhile, Mingyu continues to sip on his shake and Wonwoo has an eyebrow raised. 

You let out a sigh from the eyes and toss the half-bitten french fry back to your plate before speaking. “You can argue that fire is the weakest, but we cook with fire and that’s what allowed our society to thrive because we started to have less time devoted to farming.” 

Seungkwan and Mingyu’s jaws slightly drop from your point, while Wonwoo smiles. 

“We can technically live without fire,” Seungkwan says. “We can go back to farming and let the animals thrive.” 

“First of all, cold temperatures are a thing and fire provides warmth. Secondly, did you not hear me? Cooking gave us more time to further develop society, so, without it, we would figuratively and literally be unable to live.” 

“She’s got a point,” Wonwoo says. 

“Thank you.” 

Seungkwan’s mouth moves, but no words find their way out. 

“Wow, I left Boo Seungkwan speechless,” you say, as you begin to finish off your fries. “You’re welcome.” 

Mingyu looks on impressively. “Niceeee.” 

“That’s a very hard feat,” Wonwoo says. “I’ll give you points for that.” 

Seungkwan has suddenly regained interest from Wonwoo’s words. He leans his chin on his hand, moving uncomfortably closer to Wonwoo, who attempts to swat him away. “When did you two get along so well?” 

“We have class together,” you say with narrowed eyes. 

“And I sit right next to her,” Wonwoo adds. 

Mingyu smiles slyly. “Since when did that happen?” 

You miss the way he looks over to Seungkwan. Wonwoo blinks at the question and you suddenly have developed more interest towards the salt on the fries. 

“I feel like we shouldn’t be here,” Seungkwan says. 

“You invited me,” you say. “But okay.” 

“I know that,” he says with a huff. “But it just feels like a moment we shouldn’t be in.” 

You roll your eyes in response, but the smile on your face shows no malice. Wonwoo remains quiet—scratching his neck, feeling the heat creep up to his face. 

“So, are you dating yet?” Mingyu asks as he glances between you two. 

“Oh my God,” Wonwoo mutters. He lays his face onto the table with a thud and you almost choke from Mingyu’s directiveness. 

Mingyu goes on, ignoring both of your reactions. “You both like each other right? Well, at least, I know Wonwoo does.” 

“DUDE!” 

“Oops.” Mingyu’s lips pull back. He turns to Seungkwan. “Should we leave now?” 

“Please don’t,” Wonwoo whispers. 

Your jaw drops as you watch Seungkwan nod, smiling at you like nothing’s happened. Seungkwan and Mingyu side out of their side of the booth, but. before they leave, Mingyu drops one hand on each of your shoulders. “Don’t worry about the check. Consider it a present from your cupids.” 

“You owe me one, (Y/N)!” Seungkwan shouts from the door. They both head towards the door, giving both of you little waves with their fingers. 

Both you and Wonwoo sit in silence, not knowing what to say to the other. But, in all fairness, Wonwoo owes you the explanation. 

You swallow, suddenly feeling your throat dry up. “If it makes you feel better…” 

He looks up at you from the table. 

“I like you too.” 

A smile grows on his face and he starts to sit up slowly. “Really?” 

“What can I say?” Your smile mirrors his. “My subconscious chose you before I could.” 

He lets out a chuckle, readjusting his glasses and fiddling with his fingers, before settling them on the diner table. They’re free from the usual sweater paws and tap against the bright countertop. 

“Just to be clear,” he says. “You aren’t scared of me?” 

“Well, I was before,” you pause. “But that was before we even really talked or hung out. And now….” 

“What about now?” 

You blush, remembering the roses, the sparkling, the picnic—it all sounds so… nice. You couldn’t think of the words and Wonwoo could sense that. 

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” 

A sigh of relief escapes you. “Maybe next time then.”

His smile grows. “So, there’s a next time?” 

You nod, feeling the butterflies in your stomach and your heart pounds in your chest. His hand moves towards you, closer and with caution—so yours meets his halfway. When your fingers intertwine, he looks from your hands to you with sparkling eyes and you can feel the warmth return to your chest. 

This. 

This is what feels right. 

[invisibleicewands]

[...] ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: In this episode, the team is in Martin's territory. Is this the most screen time you've had in this series so far?

MICHAEL SHEEN: It's a funny, the thing about the way we shoot the show, and particularly the way we shoot my stuff, we now shoot multiple episodes at the same time. I can sometimes find it quite difficult to remember what's in each episode. But this particular episode was a very, very different field for me. My experience of working on this show has been a kind of opening up as it's gone on. There were actors in the core cast that I hadn't even met, let alone worked with, when we got to the end of the first season. I didn't get to do a scene with Aurora [Perrineau] or Frank [Harts] or Keiko [Agena] until really late in the first season. I would just do scenes with whoever walked into my cell, unless it was a flashback, and then it'd still be with people within the family. So things have opened up more and more as it's gone along. So in this episode, the fact that the investigation comes into Claremont opened it up again, and of course for Martin that is just absolute joy.

Right, it's safe to say Martin is having a lovely time throughout most of this episode.

Yes, because they're all coming into his world and I meet Edrisa [Agena], and Gil [Lou Diamond Phillips] has to come in, and my kids come in! I'm working with my own son on a case in my prison. Martin's just in heaven. It was very enjoyable to do because I got to work with people I haven't worked with before and work with the same people in different ways. I got to play basketball, for instance.

Yeah, you got some outdoor time!

It's funny because Martin would love having outdoor time. Michael doesn't love it that much because it's quite cold. I quite enjoy being in my cell with my cardigan on.

One of the people Martin gets some quality time with in this episode is his daughter, Ainsley. How much do you think he's enjoying this newly discovered murderous streak in her? Or is he more interested in just spending time with her regardless of the reason?

I think it's a lot of things for him. There's a real delight in seeing this flower that has grown in the dark. Malcolm is the flower that has grown in the light, and that he has watered and fed as much as he possibly can to try and bring to bloom. She's this extraordinary flower that is actually grown in the dark, without him feeding it at all. There's a special delight to that. For all of Malcolm's experiences that are on the edge of murderous and psychotic and violent, he's never quite tipped into just pure murder, and Ainsley has, whether she's aware of it or not. That creates a special connection for Martin.

That's kind of terrifying.

Yes, it is terrifying. For Martin — and I always try to see it from Martin's point of view — it's both the opportunity to feel known in a different way because somebody else has experienced the thing that he experiences, and it's also an opportunity to feel connected and bonded to someone. It's the same way as a couple of episodes ago, where there was that scene where Malcolm talks to Martin about what it feels to walk around having got away with murder, and that the scary thing is that it didn't feel bad and all that. Martin can now talk about those things that have been such a part of his secret life with someone who's also experiencing aspects of that. That's even more so with Ainsley, because the part that Malcolm hasn't done is to actually feel the liberation of murder, and Ainsley potentially has.

Well, so as not to play favorites, Martin also had a couple of really intense scenes with Malcolm. How much do you think Martin resents Malcolm deep down for sending him to prison? Is that something we're going to get to explore more?

Yeah, I think so. The version of Martin that he allows people to see is such a tiny portion of him. It has an oversized place in the world because it's how he interacts with the world. Even before he was put in prison — when he was still actively pursuing his addiction to killing — the reason he was so good at it was because he was able to develop a persona that put people at ease, that made people like him and not suspect what he was doing. That is a construct he has created. What is actually going on for him is very different. We just don't see that very much because it works for him for people not to see it. But for someone who is so obsessed with control and needs control, there are moments where he loses it and we do see something else. We get a sense of what's really under there. I think there are currents within him that even he only vaguely understands. There are times when stuff comes out that he has decided to let come out, but there are times when stuff comes out that he hasn't decided to come out. In that moment in the cell with Malcolm, something comes out that he's not even aware of. I think he really does have the capacity to feel strong, positive emotions towards Malcolm, but I think he also has massively negative emotions towards Malcolm, because Malcolm is the one who ultimately — as far as he sees it, anyway — took away his control. There is huge oceans of rage in Martin.

It's so great when you're watching it because you can find yourself siding with him and believing he could be a good dad.

Yes, because it's in his interest for people to not think that he's a monster. It works great for the show because the more I hear and read people saying, "Oh, I can't believe I really like the serial killer," I'm like, "That's right. That's how it works." You use what will work for you. There were people who had crushes on Ted Bundy. Use what you've got. Martin uses that and it works very well for him, and it still does in prison.

Do you know a lot more about Martin's past than we've learned on the show so far? Have the writers filled in some of those years of serial killing for you?

We've had conversations about that, and we've got lots of different ideas of things that we could explore. It sort of depends on what the big picture is for the show and what is useful to go into and what's not. A lot of the time it's quite useful for people to not know his past. We know more about him than the audience does, and as to how much we reveal about that — who knows… We'll see.

We'll still be finding out about people he's killed come season 10. So Martin and Jessica also had a cute — but not really cute at all — co-parenting moment in this episode. Is there anything you can tease about what's to come between them this season?

In a way, that's the motor of the show, isn't it? That you've got a family where there's one member that everyone would really rather not have to deal with, but they have to. Jessica is never going to be free of Martin. At the same time, you also don't want to overplay that, so when the moments come between them they're able to have zing to them. I think that that scene between them says so much about the relationship, particularly from Martin's point of view, that he's able to lie so easily to her. He takes a real pleasure in knowing how much she's been duped by him and shocked by him and how much she doesn't know about him. Having spent years and years deceiving her, she now knows who he is and he's still able to deceive her. There's a very special enjoyment in that for him, which is very dark. There's also a real rivalry between them, a parental rivalry. When he has something that connects him to them that she doesn't have, whether that's a piece of information or a connection, both of those things delight him in different ways.

Eek, poor Jessica. Speaking of women in his life, Catherine Zeta-Jones is joining the show soon. Can you tell us anything about her character and how she'll affect Martin?

I think what will be enjoyable for an audience is not knowing what's going on at any given point. What I will say is that it puts Martin into new territory and therefore the audience will be in completely new territory, in terms of what they're seeing Martin doing and how he's reacting to things — and that's really exciting.

[caltropspress]

FEEDBACK LOOP #7: Curly Castro’s “Weapon 13X” featuring Breeze Brewin

There was a very old man, an old white man out in the crowd, and he started screaming and crying like a baby and he kept crying and he said, “God damn, God damn, what is this God damn country coming to that the niggers have got guns, the niggers are armed and the police can’t even arrest them!” He kept crying and somebody led him away through the crowd.

—Robert F. Williams, Negroes with Guns (1962)

Gun flash beats the child’s head in, maniac teeth dance in a bloody grin blue lies, badge confessions, yng dude dead just beyond his mama’s arms

—Amiri Baraka, “Stop Killer Cops”

Police said Cleaver and Hutton were holed up at 1218 28th Street with two 9 mm automatic pistols, two AR-15 and one military-type M-14 automatic rifle, and a large supply of ammunition, some armor-piercing.

—Berkeley Barb, Volume 6, Number 15, Issue 139

1.

“Weapon 13X” is a diptych. Two verses; one pivot—or volta, for you bookworms. Curly Castro is first with a séance that summons the mysteries of Clarence 13X and Weapon X. These nullified variables and Roman numerals come together in an elixir mix so potent that it would make Aes Rock choke on the amalgam. Castro opens the fission gate and discharges two-hundred forty thousand mega-therms on the city of brotherly love, the city of bombs from above onto a 6221 Osage Avenue row house. Shameek just got bust in his arm, leg, leg, arm, head. The Black man is God personified, and Logan is regenerative. Adamantium claws. Mathematical jaws. Science dropped and experiments performed. Spark this like metal does when dragged across concrete.

2.  “Harriet would grab her balls, / This my gun, and this my rifle.”

Harriet Tubman gets cast by Kubrick for Full Metal Jacket, recites the Rifleman’s Creed, but it was actually a pistol she kept buried within the folds of her calico. She sallied forth seeing visions from the overseer’s heave of a weight—made her skull snap. Don’t sleep. “When the caliber’s inside you,” you can’t necessarily count on “the muzzle smoke revival.”

3.

Quelle Chris provides production, lest we forget his 2019 Guns album with its Dada-bullet, double-barreled barrage album art. The title track armed to the teeth: “Ain’t no cracking that code, / Ain’t no safety on locks, / Might as well get you one, / Procrastinating will get you popped.” The machine gun funk outs finks and COINTELPRO cooperators, conspirators, dispiriters. Here, Castro’s got those same turncoats and sucker MCs in his sights, so to speak.

4.  [The oppressor] teaches the Negro that he has no worth-while past, that his race has done nothing significant since the beginning of time, and that there is no evidence that he will ever achieve anything great. (Carter Godwin Woodson, The Mis-Education of the Negro, 1933)

Castro makes a promise, provoked by those who came before him, those who brandished firearms in the faces of their enemies:

We never will disarm: these are the lies that you were sold, When your glory tripped up, you trade your weapons in for gold. With Yakub in the schools, trade your dreams, knowledge folds. Found the tome, Mis-Education Negroes…

Dr. Yakub sloshing liquids in the lab—Bunsen burners explode and the lab leak is viral whiteness. Tricknology replaces Biology. Castro is looking back while moving forward. “Doomed to repeat it”-type forewarnings. He knows the ledge and also wants his people to.

5.

aim     get your sights & its sound in abstract or journal movements to a peace settlement

dude shot my man

dead,          precious lord blow off theres no willy in th blues theres no you.

—from Tom Weatherly’s Maumau American Cantos (1970)

Castro is a “gunhand, cybernetic with spray cans, / Basquiat, baklava, Mau Mau.” That’s likely an intentional malaprop—surely his militant stance calls for a balaclava. Even still, Castro doesn’t stutter. He will still sh-sh-shift his voice on you—the dynamics of his delivery raise stakes and get guttural, scraping against sewer plates. He’s potent, even if Basquiat’s pistol appears flaccid with its hand-scrawled linework. In another piece, Basquiat starts the decolonization process at the point of a safari helmet. The image detonates.  

6.  Free country? Man, I should fuck you up for sayin’ that stupid shit alone.

“This film is a call to racial violence!” a film critic shouted at Roger Ebert after a screening of Do the Right Thing. She worried Bed-Stuy would set fire to theaters, but Lee’s 1989 film wasn’t The Rite of Spring in Paris in 1913. An amerikan psychotic turn to theater violence would be postponed until Aurora in 2012, and it would be white violence, which would come as a shock to none who have tracked the trajectory of white violence. Displacement is white violence, too. White violence is a sine qua non for gentrification. And so Castro allies himself with “Buggin’ Out battle brownstone houses, some Bird fans, / While Mookie turns the radio up and launched the trashcan.”

7.  “We are the weapons.”

Of late, Castro has consistently been proving you’re out your depth, with verses so allusive they suggest a strong “Erick Sermon and Parrish Smith, nobody blink. / They don’t now who the fuck that is” vibe. So what, though? At this point, Castro’s a vet, an elder. The youngins need to catch up or cash out. Get KRS-One bookish, kiddies, or be left behind. Be the weapon or never prosper. Create your own mythos: “Omega built a mother by the sun and Cyclops sent / a blurred Baraka poem capable to raise the dead. / Yet instead I use the sword...”—with Wu-Tang pronunciation of the w in “sword,” of course. History moves backwards and forwards at the same time. Language is lost and recovered. The poem is “blurred” because it’s been duplicated on a mimeograph—a machine that involves a “drum.” The words are ink-smudged. Baraka’s former partner, Diane di Prima, shouted, “"Power to the people's mimeo machines!” Accuse and attack, Baraka sloganeered. We’re talking about agency—by hand-crank, handgun, or mic check.

8.

Castro creates imagery like Emory Douglas did with paint: painfully bold and saturated with color like blood soaks clothes. Baraka called Douglas’s art a combo of “expressionist agitprop and homeboy familiarity,” which applies to what Castro does on the track. I quote Mao who called literature and art “part of the whole proletarian revolutionary cause,” and Mao quotes Lenin who called lit and art the “cogs and wheels in the whole revolutionary machine.” And Baraka also said Douglas’s work:

functioned as if you were in the middle of a rumble and somebody tossed you a machine pistol. It armed your mind and demeanor. Ruthlessly funny, but at the same time functional as the .45 slugs pouring out of that weapon.

The Panthers were trapped and tear-gassed in a West Oakland basement. Eldridge Cleaver told Bobby to go out naked—unarmed as the day he was born not quite eighteen years earlier—but he emerged from the burning house fully dressed, with dignity, and he was searchlighted and shotshotshotshotshotshotshot dead.

Castro needs Brewin to make the cypher complete—a two-man killarmy using loud words in quiet wars, no silencer.

9.  “Before blurting out, try analysis, brother.”

Breeze’s Yo, listen… at the start of his verse is comparable to Sir Thomas Wyatt intoning Whoso list to hunt… to begin his 16th-century sonnet. The amalgam here is less Five Percenter plus clandestine government experimentation and more a deconstruction of the both violent and sexualized language of braggadocio. “Anything you say isn’t played like Miranda Rights,” and so we’re already with our hands behind our backs, silenced by an pig officer’s gag order. The competition doesn’t get played; they play themselves.

Sir Thomas Wyatt sets it off like so:

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, But as for me, hélas, I may no more. The vain travail hath wearied me so sore, I am of them that farthest cometh behind. Yet may I by no means my wearied mind Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore Fainting I follow.

Breeze has wanted to stay pleasant to the ears—you know, like Lauryn Hill phone sexing—so this isn’t new territory but rather a well-worn path. Wyatt’s wearied and “so sore” by “the hunt,” the pursuit of his love interest, even though he knows “where is an hind.” Still, “as she fleeth afore / Fainting [he] follows.” He can’t help himself.

Love is lost within violent pursuit. Breeze speaks of a “plan to strike” and “zero in” on a “target,” his quarry. He and Castro are “talking about broads often, no doubt, / We broad and burly as hell, / Brag about the hunt, you was jukin’ a girly gazelle.” Breeze’s assault is dizzying, a salvo from all angles: “Hit ’em with some counter clay rebuttals that’s subtle but still befuddle if dude slow.”

10.  “It’s nothin’, I gotcha, and that’s word to Super Lover Cee.”

Super Lover Cee and Casanova Rud’s 1988 single “Girls I Got ’Em Locked” articulates the carceral embrace of “locking” a girl down, which—consequently—requires violence to enforce: “Don’t ever touch a girl owned by me or I’ll ruin ya’, / Slap you with my mic simultaneously as I’m doin’ ya.” The girl is commodified, and Super Lover Cee takes a proprietary attitude toward the relationship. If you overstep, you’ll be ruined, that is, you’ll fall. And while you’re prostrate, you’ll be slapped with the phallic mic simultaneously. Is the Super Lover doin’ her or you, though? What’s truly getting him off? That hypermasculine posturing skews homoerotic. Breeze Brewin laughs at you for subscribing to the nonsense: “Dag, if that was what you believe then your world be a hell.”

11.

Liberal discourse suggests policing your impulses. Put down the gun—don’t touch it. “Touchy subjects,” like racism (apparently), get the “We need to have a conversation” treatment. Look, don’t touch. Don’t touch the exhibit of stolen artifacts—those Benin bronzes in the British Museum. Beneath the topic of orignoo gunn clapping, Curly Castro’s track is about the x’s and o’s of eros as well. Many gestures meant to protect women are merely some other man staking his claim, adorning her with “diamonds in letters plain,” as Wyatt writes of the collar around the deer’s “fair neck.” Wyatt’s sonnet warns against overstepping (or even half-stepping). The collar reads Noli me tangere (touch me not)—she belongs to someone else. It’s a bad touch example. Like his fellow Indelible J-Treds, Breeze Brewin is the living circle-circle-dot-dot: nobody can touch him.

12.

Let’s bring it back to Little Bobby Hutton. When Eldridge Cleaver told him to leave the ambushed basement naked, he was thinking of Bobby’s safety. He thought the extreme measure of appearing on the street without clothes would be enough to convince the pigs he wasn’t armed. Cleaver was naïve to think so. Bobby Hutton was right to emerge clothed. In doing so, he rejected the indignity of the auction block, the lynching, the mutilation and spreading of souvenir flesh. The searchlight made Bobby Hutton the subject of a spectacle, yes, but he refused to consent to the psychosexual desires of white supremacy. He refused the castration ritual. Little Bobby Hutton, in effect, threw down a challenge to the cops: Use your imagination once again. Try to think of a few situations where your own weapon might be used against you…used against you…used against you.

Images:

Emory Douglas, The Black Panther, Vol. IV, No. 78, 1971 (detail) | Weapon X (detail, issue unknown) | Emory Douglas, Rat Subterranean News (1970) | Harriet Tubman with gun sketch | Anti-Mau Mau British propaganda poster | Newspaper headline from Negroes with Guns | Jean-Michel Basquiat, Untitled (date unknown) | Jean-Michel Basquiat, Native Carrying Some Guns, Bibles, and Amorites on Safari (1982) | Screenshot from Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing (1989) | Two images from the Berkeley Barb, Volume 6, Number 15, Issue 139 (1968) | Emory Douglas, The Black Panther (miscellaneous poster) | Medieval depiction of the hunt (unknown) | Image detail from the Berkeley Barb, Volume 6, Number 15, Issue 139 (1968)

[eristic-kaleidoscope]

suspENDing disbelief | E.N.D. | Trial 3-4 | RE: All That | ATTN: Eureka

There's so much noise here that it's hard for END to focus on what's important. Any other time, she'd be able to handle it, she's a social creature, this is nothing--but she's been emotionally rocked and she's never been good at handling that. The case..... Might be more clear cut than she likes, but it does nothing to quell the storm of emotions within her.

"She's not 'escaping justice'? Please, there's nothing that's remotely close to justice about any of this? You all want to insist that Ae-ra killed Chen? Then regardless of anything else, Eureka killed a killer. That's exactly what you're all doing now.

I don't blame you for doing so, not at all. Hell, I'm.... Probably going to have to do the same. I don't want to die either. But don't for a goddamn second pretend that you're not doing the same thing, just because it's the sisters handling an execution. Not after half of you told me and Kenshin that choosing not to vote in the motive didn't make a difference when it came down to it.

Make your choice, do what you have to, but don't pretend that we're some kind of justice system here. We're all just trying to live."

She falls quiet for a while after that, just listening along, though it's clear she's becoming more and more agitated as Erik A speaks.

When he's finished, though, she stands just long enough to kick her podium. With a crack, part of the wood splits from the impact.

"God fucking dammit, I'm tired of thinking about this! How much does it matter what the specifics are, unless they change the outcome? I counted Eureka as a friend, for fuck's sake! I don't want to think about the fact she could've walked away from a fight! 

You think I don't want to accept Ae-ra's probably the only one that could've killed Chen? For fuck's sake, I'm not stupid! I know Ae-ra's just as capable of being angry and selfish as anyone else! If Eureka walked in on things, then either Ae-ra saw her and panicked and attacked her, or else Eureka went down there to murder one or both anyway, but what does that change? At least if we didn't get the specifics, I could just think of it as a matter of self defense! But now. Now! I have to consider the fact that Eureka had no reason to hit Ae-ra with the taser if she'd already poisoned her, which means there's no way she couldn't have just walked away from the fight entirely! I have to think long and hard about the fact that someone I considered a friend killed the girl I was dating! Fucking--Hell!"

She sits back at her chair for no other reason than being forced to stay, and just lays her head on her newly cracked podium, arms wrapped around her head. She just.... Lets out a frustrated scream.