#also god bless tumblr never putting word limits on their posts

[nacrelyses]

okay brain if i make the post will you shut up

so love, me normally can be interpreted in a romantic sense, and it would make sense for it to be interpreted in a romantic sense of someone who desperately wishes they weren’t so different from the norm, so “bad”, so “abnormal”; that they’re so tired of being different and being treated different that they just want to be loved like they’re normal, loved like a nobody

but that’s not what i’m making this post about god damnit keep on track-

[under a read more because it’s very heavy. tw external and internal queerphobia, existential despair, also this is so long oh god 2k words]

 i could make a joke about how “cross my i’s, dot my t’s” is a joke about going on testosterone but uh i’m just going to talk about first stanza 

“I was delivered holding scissors, I live deliberately, I’m a quitter And a winner anyway, cause I never agreed to participate in this game”

this’ll come up later in this long ass post but the child is delivered holding the scissors to cut their own umbilical cord. when a child is born and they are a queer individual, it is up to them to cut the ties that hurt them the most - even the most close and familial ones. in the way that an umbilical cord is cut because the baby no longer needs the mother’s nutrients, the child is born with the inevitable fate of having to cut off those whose approval and love they can no longer thrive off of, or can no longer receive. or, it could be a metaphor for the scissors of fate, where the child is born with their fate in their own hands and they, being an outlier in queerphobic society, must make do with what they’ve got.

“i live deliberately, i’m a quitter” the child lives deliberately in their quest for self discovery and their need to understand and accept their queerness but at the same time they are a quitter in all the things that society considers normal but they cannot utilize to function: a white collar job when the child is an artist, a nuclear family when the child just doesn’t want one, keeping in contact with your parents when the parents do not accept their child.

“And a winner anyway, cause I never agreed to participate in this game” this comes up later in the post as well but yeah the child never agreed to participate in this game of life. they didn’t ask to be a player, but by default of their unwillingness and their lack of consent, they are made a winner because they are the only player at the table of their own life. they are made an unwilling winner for something they never had the consciousness to consent to experience. they can be called “strong” later in life for overcoming queerphobia, lauded as a “winner” over their oppression, but it rings hollow because to be a real winner, you have to have agreed to be playing in the first place. 

and then the chorus, this is pretty obvious. like the 

“And I'd rather be normal. Yes, so normal I suggest that we keep this informal Cause a normal human being wouldn't need To pretend to be normal to be normal Well I guess that's the least that I owe ya To be normal in a way I couldn’t be C’mon, c’mon, and love me normally”

because you know, that could kinda be interpreted as a queer child talking to their queerphobic parents. it doesn’t fucking matter if their parents are proud of them for their grades or their achievements now because no matter what, they’re proud of the persona of the child they’ve constructed for themselves. they’re proud of a fraud. the child knows they’ll never truly be loved the way they are, that their parents will only love who they want the child to be and they’ll only love the image they have of their child. think of it like internalized queerphobia, homophobia, transphobia, the idea that similar to i/me/myself, it would be easier if i were a girl [or cisgender, for a general application] and it would be easier if i were normal. the child would rather be normal in the way their parents see normal and they feel that they owe their parents, for all their parents have done to provide for them and pay for their bills and everything, the bare minimum of pretending to be normal so that they don’t break their parents’ hearts. and it’s really for the sake of everyone in the family because if they’re outed, the parents will argue, the parents will be sad, their siblings will be upset by the arguing and the mourning, they feel as though they owe their family this bare minimum of pretending -  both for their own safety, and for the prosperity of their family. moving on.

“If I could live in third person, well I don’t think life would be much worse than it is In the current tense, presently, this sentence ending in question marks or dot dot dot…”

the child feels like if they were an outsider witnessing their own life in a third person perspective, it still wouldn’t change a lot. or it wouldn’t be much worse, it might actually be better, in a sense, because they’re fully disassociated from the identity that alienates them so from their parents and their parents’ approval. but they’re living in first person, so this sentence (their life, basically, drawing upon how a suicide prevention thing a while back was using a semicolon as a symbol of your life being an author’s sentence) ends in two ways. a question mark, showing how their existence as someone outside the “norm” of a queerphobic society is rife with constant questioning and identity gaslighting because of how “abnormal” it is to deviate from the norm that you are left without many resources to figure yourself out. you die at the end of the day perhaps not even knowing who you truly are because society has not yet normalized terms that could better articulate your identity, and because you can never really know yourself. or, your sentence ends in a dot dot dot. forever unfinished. you leave with so many loose ends - maybe you move out and cut off contact with your family forever, and live perhaps happier but never knowing if they change their mind (oh god now i’m thinking about change your mind from steven universe and how steven’s entire story is a metaphor for the trans experience). maybe you decide to continue pretending and you cut off the option of really getting to know yourself a little bit better, and you die never knowing who you could have been. so living in full disassociation would at the very least not be much worse than how the first person tense currently is.

“I drank myself to death to be the afterlife of the party When the afterparty came, I was rolling in my grave”

no i am not an alcoholic, thank you very much, i am a responsible person. but the substance abuse reference can be applied to any self destructive habit that arises out of a need to cope - in this case, the child’s need to cope with their fractured identity. maybe they turn towards being hyperfeminine or hypermasculine in an attempt to feel connected with their assigned gender, which branches out into so many different destructive habits (aforementioned drinking, drugs, eating disorders, etc). they do so to become the “afterlife” of the party - if you think about a “party” as a moment in time, it can be the moment you are in in your life. the child turns towards these destructive habits to try to achieve the unachievable. to bring the afterlife into life, to bring their parents’ false image of the child into fruition when that is never impossible and that in itself becomes destructive. but they do this in the current moment of their life, in the current party, so when the afterparty comes, they’re already dead. when the afterparty comes, they roll in their grave because it’s a hollow call for what they could have been: a more genuine person to themselves, a happier individual free of parents’ queerphobia. 

“I want you to love the way they so seamlessly, like a dream for me, so beautifully, oh so dutifully jam that square peg in the round hole in their hearts”

the bridge monologue is very very romantic-coded and i don’t think i can pull much meaning from the first bit but here, have the “jam the square peg in the round hold in their hearts”. the child has learned to “seamlessly”, like a second instinct, to jam the square peg of their parents’ false image into the round hole in their hearts, to somehow cram something into a space that was never meant to fit and should not be fitted at all. this quote speaks as though it’s the child talking to their parents, telling them, “i want you to love me, but you are only loving me as i am now, when i am literally destroying myself to be who you’re capable of loving”

“I want you to tell 'em that you love the way that they don't stick out like sore middle fingers That they crawl their way up the side of the bell curve, stick their flag in the peak, and slide their way back down I want you to tell them that you love the way that they're not maladaptive, not malcontent, not malignant or maleficent, but rather that you love them exactly the way that everybody else is”

yep. so the bell curve, the statistical graph, the idea that their child could sit perfectly at the average as the cishet kid their parents expected them to be. the way that they’re not “maladaptive, not malcontent, not malignant or maleficent”, which can all be adjectives weaponized in queerphobic rhetoric against the queer community. and the final line, that their parents love the child “exactly the way that everybody else is”. their parents hold their child to a supposed “norm” that does not really exist because of how suppressed queerness is in society, that the norm is most likely not the norm at all and who’s to say what’s a norm? their parents love them when they are “normal” and it feels like that’s the only way they’ll ever be able to love you. they’ll not be able to learn how to love a different you. 

“I was nothing before so I couldn’t have asked to be born I'll be nothing again, so what am I between now and then? Is there nothing to fear? Cause sh*t's getting weird So to God who made this man, you better have one hell of a plan”

deep breath. okay. okay. first of all, will wood’s inflections from the last line of the first bridge all throughout the second bridge are gorgeous and hit so hard. 

but yeah. here we go here we go ho boy

the idea that birth in itself is actually an immoral thing, since children don’t ask to be born. they don’t ask to be brought into this world, to experience this world, to develop mental illnesses and to face queerphobia or discrimination or danger in any sense because of who they are. they don’t ask to be born into a family that consistently alienates them and forces them to keep quiet about something that’s so important to them. and the child, in learning that their parents are queerphobic and will never accept them the way they are, realizes now even more that they never asked to be born. they didn’t ask for this closeted life. they didn’t ask for this kind of pain, this kind of false love, this kind of otherness. they never asked for any of this. 

“i’ll be nothing again...” the idea that life is finite, that they’ll become that “nothing” they were before they were born if they come out to their parents because in that sense, it’s the parents asking themselves, “why did we have a child that turned out this way? we didn’t ask for this kind of child. we never asked for this kind of person. we never asked to raise them as they are now.” look if you can’t fucking accept that your child will be anything other than a cishet individual made to play out your nuclear family life so you can project your ideas of parenting and hopefully help parent your grandchildren in all the ways you fucked up your own kids i want you to-to- the window is right there. leave. fucking leave. 

“Is there nothing to fear? Cause sh*t's getting weird So to God who made this man, you better have one hell of a plan”

is there really nothing to fear, from your parents? they’re supposed to be your closest guidance but is there truly nothing to fear from them if they hate the idea of who you really are? the child is questioning their identity (”shit’s getting weird”) and everything they’ve ever perceived their parents as is thrown up in the air.

and we can’t have all this internalized queerphobia without some religious trauma, can we? the child asks the all knowing, all seeing God, “what was your plan for me?” did this God intend for this child to have to go through this pain? this suffering which is often carried out in the name of aforementioned deity? this God better have one hell of a plan, really, because this child sure as hell needs one, and this God better have a good enough excuse to be able to redeem themselves in this child’s eyes. 

all the choruses are just the child constantly asking their parents: “am i normal enough?” “do i need to pretend more?” “i know i owe you this much at least, can you tell me you love me? the normal me?” “can you tell me you love me at all?”

[kbsd]

not sure if you’ve answered this before, but what’s your process look like when you make an amv? i’m just curious and in constant awe of ppl who can make videos like you do :)

hello all!!! i have answered this before and i have a vid help tag with other asks i’ve gotten about stuff like this! but i’ve gotten several more messages along these lines so i’m just going to answer a bunch of them together (under a cut since i love to ramble about editing lol). i do just wanna say i’m definitely not the authority on video editing and obv everyone has their own techniques!

edit: i just finished typing all this up and it’s SO long so sorry in advance LMAO god bless anyone who reads this entire thing

so i work in news tv and we have a very specific workflow for writing scripts, sourcing video, producing, and editing. i’ve just applied that to making amvs! for every video i make, i copy the song lyrics into a google doc and adjust them to match the song i’ve cut (i often will trim songs for time and/or content purposes). then i start planning! i’ll mark down what clip i want to use for each lyric next to that line, and any sound bites i want to use (with episode numbers!). i’ll color code between video and sound bites and lyrics, so my scripts end up looking something like this (for my honeybee amv):

doing the planning ahead of time makes everything much easier when it’s a video that spans the whole show or involves a lot of sourcing, like honeybee or sports analogies. that way when i get to the actual editing process, i already know what i’m going to do and have a game plan. for videos like happy ending or believe it or not, where i’m mainly just pulling from a few episodes, i can just plan it in my head as opposed to writing it all down, and produce as i edit. obviously i do make in-the-moment decisions while editing—sometimes a shot doesn’t work the way i thought it would, or i go where the video takes me—but planning ahead definitely helps. i know some people use spreadsheets as well, with columns for lyrics, video clips, and sound bites if applicable. once you find a system that works, it actually goes pretty quickly.

as for sourcing clips themselves/finding clips within episodes, i talked about that here and kind of here. the short version is that transcripts are a must, and the supernatural wiki is hugely helpful by cataloguing all the hugs, prayers, phone calls, etc. in the show. gifmakers that tag episode numbers on their posts are your friends. it gets easier the more video you make—that’s another huge reason i make the google docs for each video (even the ones i plan in my head, i end up going back and making a loose script with episode notes just for reference). if i can’t remember where something is but i know i used it in another video, i can easily reference past scripts!

i also cut all my videos in the same project in premiere pro, so i can flip between them easily. instead of checking a past script, i can just go to the video sequence itself and copy the clip i’m looking for! this was especially helpful when i match cut together the 5x18 and 4x22 wall slam shots for my bestie video, and then stole it from myself for honeybee hahaha. at any given time i have at least 8 sequences open:

because of the sheer volume of videos i make, it’s worth it for me to download the entire show—i have all 327 episodes in HD, plus deleted scenes. if you think you’re only going to make a few videos, i’d start with scene packs. you can usually just google “destiel [or whatever ship/character you’re looking for] scene packs” and there will be any number of ones you can download. if you need other specific scenes, you can always download/torrent individual episodes or screen record netflix (that’s what i did before i got HD download links). i’m happy to share my links if you DM, but be warned it’s a lot of disk space (about 500GB on my hard drive). someone also compiled every destiel scene, downloadable here.

having every episode already loaded in premiere for all my projects also makes it a lot easier to source clips. once i use a clip in a video, i’ll put a marker on the episode file, so that after a while i have most of the important scenes/lines marked to easily find them. to give you an idea, this is my episode file in premiere for 12x10 lily sunder has some regrets (markers at destiel scenes, the car fight, hot girl cas, etc.). markers are the green tabs along the bottom:

premiere also lets you color code and name markers, so ONE DAY i will go back and color code them all. the ones above are all the same color, but in a perfect world, i’d have a myraid—for destiel shots like hugs, touches, looks; for important pieces of dialogue; for action shots; etc. but for now this works ok for me, so that’s a project for another time!

between detailed scripts, one giant premiere project, markers, the wiki, and my own memory, i have so many points of reference that i can usually find any clip i need in about 2 minutes max. sound bites are often harder to start out, or tiny specific shots i haven’t used before, and that’s when i turn to tumblr gifsets or beloved mutuals to crowdsource. but if you’re as obsessive about marking/keeping neat scripts as i am, it gets easier and easier with every video you make. that’s part of why i’m able to cut videos together so quickly. (also i want to stress i do this for a living and have to produce/edit a new piece for my show every day so i’m used to it. and compared to constantly updating content/sources and news that changes every day, 327 highly documented episodes that never change are much easier to handle hahaha)

this is all great for me since i make so many videos and plan to continue doing so, but if you’re only making a few, this level of work isn’t worth it imo. really it’s all about developing a system that works for you. whatever you do with episodes/sourcing, though, i cannot recommend planning things out in a script ahead of time enough. 

everything i just mentioned is producing, though. for the editing process, i usually do it in this order:

music first. any parts i want to cut, i make sure it all sounds smooth

then soundbites. i usually try to weave them into the lyrics—i have characters talk in breaks between lines or instrumental sections as much as possible. i’ll sometimes go so far as looped/extending an intsrumental part to make room for the soundbite i want there lol. if i do have dialogue over a line, i do the sound mixing/levels at this point as well to make sure everything is audible/one doesn’t overpower the other. (also i always include the video that goes with these bites when i drop them in, and decide later if i want to show the character speaking or have other clips cover the dialogue)

once i have all the audio locked in, then i bring in all my other video clips. sometimes i edit completely chronologically, sometimes jumping from section to section—it depends on the song or how i’m feeling

double check sound mixing. i usually listen to my videos through a few times, with headphones and without to make sure it’ll sound good no matter how people watch it

once i have picture and audio lock, i go through and color correct my clips. i’m basic and just use lumetri color in premiere, and usually just play with brightness, saturation, temperature, and tint until i like it

render and export! :)

i always have several audio tracks, but i try to keep my video tracks condensed. i’ll drop clips on a V2 level, and edit a section there, and drop the whole chunk down to V1 so i know it’s finished. that way when i leave and come back i can know where i left off/what’s done/etc. to give you an idea, this is the timeline for my what the hell video:

i always render as H.264 with high bitrate, and make sure to check “render at maximum depth” and “use maximum render quality” for the best quality. i’m sorry, but i don’t know what the equivalent options are in final cut, imovie, kdenlive, etc. i post on youtube mostly so i don’t have to sacrifice quality, but usually just using a lower bitrate will get you under the tumblr file size limit and it’ll still look good.

as for the anon who asked about “polishing”: first of all, thank you!! second of all, it’s in the details. all of this is a matter of taste and my own insanity, but here are some little things i always try to do:

after i color correct, i blur out any credits from the starts of episodes. i use gaussian blur for this, but really any blur tool works

as much as possible, i avoid clips where we see a character’s mouth move but don’t hear the words. in tv/film we call it “lip flap” and i just think it looks messy. also i’m trained to avoid it at all costs at work hahaha. it’s more for serious videos that this matters a lot to me (e.g. i think i did a really good job eliminating lip flap in my happy ending amv)—for comedy videos i don’t sweat it as much

i put audio fades on the start and end of every single audio clip i use, even if i don’t think i need it, to make sure everything sounds smooth

i use markers for timing, especially in action-y videos like what the hell. i’ll put a marker on the clip i’m using at the exact moment a punch lands, and in the song on the beat. if i have the magnet/snap in timeline tool on i can just easily snap them together instead of having to spend time finagling it

this is such a small thing but i dip/cut to black for a tiny bit at the start and end of every video. this way if i post with tumblr video player, there’s black between the loops, and it gives you a beat before the video restarts. i do this even on videos i post on youtube, just because i think it looks nicer/more professional

this is 1,500 words so i’m going to stop myself before i pull something. if you have follow-up questions feel free to ask and i’ll continue to add them to the vid help tag, but any more questions about sourcing clips or my process in general i’ll just link this post going forward. anyone who made it this far, i am sending to a telepathic kiss. thank you for reading and happy editing!

[cold-neon-ocean]

Let’s talk about Ronan and Crystal for a hot second please

Y’all it astounds me how much this fandom grossly mischaracterizes Ronan and sleeps on his relationship with Crystal like... have any of you read the comics??? Do you not know what an absolute love-struck doofus this man is?????

The War of Kings and Realm of Kings comic runs were are first REAL look at Ronan’s character. Prior to he’d been mostly an antagonist figure who was slowly evolving into more of an anti-hero. But we hadn’t spent any significant time getting to know him outside of the Annihilation run (and even there it was still limited). How he behaves with Crystal is a showing of who he genuinely is and how he naturally behaves. The Kree are in a very difficult spot in their history at this time, being unable to evolve, but despite this Ronan never has a short fuse with Crystal, never raises his voice at her, he’s never once in his whole character run even REMOTELY angry with her of his own mind, even when Medusa pushes him to his limits. He never takes out any of his frustration on her, and is only ever respectful and understanding. Coming from all the previously known info about Ronan, painting him as nothing but this difficult, aggressive, blood-thirsty, conquest hungry, warlord, to THIS, a very caring individual capable of loving and loving purely, giving his 100% devotion to this one woman was very surprising to say the least. 

I could get into all my thoughts about Ronan as a character as he’s my end all be all single favorite fictional character and has been for the past... almost 6 years now~ but I’ll save it and get into beginnings of his and Crystal’s relationship! 

I’m gonna start from the beginning of Realm of Kings, after the complicated war with the Shi’ar just so I can get to the meat of their budding romance and just how much of an absolute dork Ronan is (I’ll touch on the preceding events in War of Kings and some stuff after Realm of Kings a little in this too but I’m gonna save most of it for a separate post!) For context, the Kree are now being ruled under the Inhuman Royal Family. Ronan and Crystal were arranged to be married as a political symbol of the two races’ newfound unity and it was meant to be just that. Their relationship was a pretty slow burn that neither of them, or anyone, expected.

[ Above - Realm of Kings: Inhumans 01 ] So from the get go Ronan is just,, PROTECC even tho at this point their relationship is SUPPOSED to be purely political he’s still so sweet and polite with her just out of seemingly sheer natural instinct. This guy isn’t used to relationships okay, he’s literally only ever been in one other one his wholeass life and it didn’t really go very well. He’s very much just trying to do the chivalrist thing and doesn’t demean her in any way, or at least he very much doesn’t mean to, nor does he think she’s incapable he’s just naturally trying to be a gentleman.

[ Above - Realm of Kings: Inhumans 01 ] Their growing relationship is very subtly hinted at in the early interactions between them, as they’re both very polite with each other. Crystal’s genuine kindness towards him REGULARLY catches Ronan very much off guard as he’s just... not used to that kind of interaction with others?? He’s so used to being approached with hostility or fear or an uncomfortable worship like respect that when someone is just.. genuinely nice to him he can hardly process it.

Crystal would visit him in the hospital after the Shi’ar attack on their wedding (where Ronan nearly died) and Ronan was probably so surprised to see her there like “I forced her to marry me so I could maintain some political status over the Kree which I already felt bad about, then our wedding was laid waste to by the Shi’ar but she came to visit me in the hospital??? Why would she do that, doesn’t she hate me?????” But no she doesn’t hate him, and not only does she visit him to keep him updated on how the Kree were fairing she’d go so far as to just take him outside for some fresh air and a break from staring at nothing but four hospital walls all day. She doesn’t HAVE to be doing any of this, she doesn’t HAVE to care about the Kree or him but she does, and Ronan is just unable to understand why because all he ever receives is hostility; the Kree abandoned, tried to wipe out, then tried to re-enslave the Inhumans, he was well aware she didn’t want to marry him, and yet here she is- caring about all of the Kree, caring about him. Even the Kree people themselves have been shown to be quick to turn on him, despite his lifelong devotion to them; but SHE, despite having no reason to, is genuinely compassionate and caring with him so how could he not start falling for her just a little?? 

Alrighty so this is gonna be a LONG ONE so I’m putting the rest under a cut for the sake of your dashboard :’D 

[ Above - Realm of Kings: Inhumans 02 ] More big protective husband mode. I love that she keeps having to remind him that she’s fine but his brain is just in constant “PROTECC WIFE MODE” he’s a disaster. A total and utter disaster of a man. Also Crystal casually calling him “husband” kasjdfashf meanwhile he’s not sure if it’s okay for him to refer to her so casually (even tho it is you blue dumbass) so he just calls her either “my lady” or “Lady Crystal” respectfully or just by name. He called her “my wife” once before this in WoK but he was talking to Medusa as he said it and not addressing Crys directly.

[ Above - Realm of Kings: Inhumans 02 ] By far one of my favorite single comic panels in existence. STILL BEFORE THEY ACTUALLY REALIZE AND GIVE IN TO THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER, he get 1(one) kis for checking in on her after they run into Pietro (who is an absolute garbage man btw I could talk about him too). Look at his face. He is on cloud nine right now, he could die happy right here. He got kis and frankly he deserves u3u (I’ll talk more about this panel later!)

[ Above - Realm of Kings: Inhumans 03 ] (sorry if this is a little hard to read) Look at him confess to her at how genuinely impressed he is with her. Not because of how she treats him, he’s of course leaving his personal gratitude out because he’s already been told their relationship is supposed to be political, but because of how she’s gained respect from the Kree people- more so than her family has! Because why? Because Crystal has shown actually cares, wow! The Kree aren’t exactly what one would call “popular” among other races in the cosmos, and they don’t particularly care, so Crys giving a genuine care about them (especially given the Inhuman’s personal relationship with the Kree) is astounding. The fact that she has any room in her heart for them and assumes her responsibility over them maturely and with and honest desire to do right by them~ Ronan is so grateful, especially given that she’s pretty much the only one aside from himself advocating for the well being of the Kree to Blackbolt and Medusa.

[ Above - Realm of Kings: Inhumans 03 ] Another of my favorite Ronan moments because.. just.... GOD! It’s Zarek’s insult to his patriotism that sets him off because he’s been through plenty of that before, but you DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT INSULT HIS WIFE! It’s the insult to HER that enrages him. Let’s face it, if Crystal hand’t asked him not to, Ronan would have ceased this man’s whole existence in an instant.

[ Above - Realm of Kings: Inhumans 03 ] But of course, she still appreciates the sentiment! Also Ronan’s deadpan “Just about” makes me wheeze aloud ever time. He wanted to eviscerate this dude for insulting her but didn’t because wife asked him not to. He’s so fucking mad tho look at him akjsdhfa wife please let me destroy this man in your honor

[ Above - Realm of Kings: Inhumans 03 ] And then he goes and lets his feelings slip! Which she’s actually kind of amused by, as she’s been picking up on his affections for a little while now (he’s been totally subtle about it /s). But her last marriage didn’t end well at all so no doubt she was probably withholding to see just what kind of man Ronan is (spoiler alert: he’s a grade-A husband turns out and a really genuine guy when you get to know him. Or should I say when he lets you get to know him lol!). He also very subtly calls her ‘fine’ here which, I mean.. she is let’s be real. 

[ Above - Realm of Kings: Inhumans 03 ] (again, sorry this is hard to read! tumblr really didn’t want to work with me on these pics akjsdh) Probably one of my top two favorite Ronan and Crystal moments. She calls him out on calling her “beloved” and this ABSOLUTE DUMBASS first tries to play it off like he has no idea what she’s talking about then is just like “oh uh.... well I mean... it was... the heat of the moment......” Excellent cover, my good sir, no one suspects a thing. But of course Crystal isn’t gonna let him get away with that so easily. And in a moment of pure bad bitch energy she THREATENS TO KISS HIM if he keeps it up. And he’s just AGHAST, SCANDALIZED, HOWEVER COULD SHE HAVE FIGURED OUT HIS FEELINGS FOR HER??? HE WAS SO SUBTLE, SO RIGID IN HIS COMMITMENT TO KEEPING THINGS PURELY POLITICAL. SHE MUST BE SOME SORT OF PSYCHIC! (insert metal gear solid exclamation point sound effect on Ronan’s face in the last panel someone help this man)

Crystal: “You said you liked me.”

Ronan, the pinnacle of Kree dignity: “.......... No I didn’t..”

[ Above - Realm of Kings: Inhumans 04 ]  Crystal is nothing if not a lady of her word and it doesn’t take her long to cash in on that threat~ When Maximus mind controls Ronan and tries to force him to kill himself (Bioshock 2 style) Crys figures this is the perfect way to snap him out of it, and she was very correct. Ronan’s face I just sob lol, he’s always so lost for words when flustered bless this adorable soft man. He’s not used to kisses. (Also Crys putting a hand on his chest is my favorite thing, and just wait until they start holding hands)

And from this moment on these two are pretty much all in on this relationship. No more hiding, no more denying their feelings for the sake of politics. There’s of course a lot more in War of Kings about the very beginnings of their character dynamic and their arranged marriage but I’ll get to that in a separate post (if you made it this far I appreciate you so much and apologize profusely)! 

What I’ve always loved about their relationship and why it’s my all time favorite is just how pure and genuine it is, and how much they benefited each other and how much they grew as individuals through each other. Ronan from the beginning felt bad about their arranged marriage, he didn’t do it for any other reason than needing to maintain a seat of authority when handing over leadership of the Kree to the Inhumans in the hopes the Inhumans would help them with their stagnant evolution. He never tried to solicit anything from Crystal, and maintained a respectful space, never overstepping any boundary unless SHE invited him to do so, but always offering himself should she need. The relationship only ever moved at the pace she wanted. Ronan valued her input and views and demanded nothing but respect for her from others (I mean look at what happened to Zarek when he called Crystal a “pink-fleshed lab animal”).

[ Above - Realm of Kings: Inhumans 02 ] (spliced this page for the sake of posting) Jumping back in the timeline a little bit, this particular moment is one I find very important. Crystal defending Ronan in front of her ex-husband Quicksilver (who sucks) while also subtly hinting at her own growing affections for him. She says that Ronan is actually “rather sweet”, so his constant protectiveness is clearly something she takes no offense to. Not only that, but when Quicksilver asks if Ronan makes “her feel the same way he used to”, Crystal ADAMANTLY says that Ronan does not and the’s grateful that he doesn’t. She told him that she doesn’t need to justify anything to him yet she makes a point to be very clear that Ronan has shown himself to be better of a husband than Quicksilver was. Remember, Crystal and Quicksilver’s marriage didn’t end well (I’ve personally never liked how lightly Marvel has taken it and how things seem to smooth over rather unrealistically. The things Quicksilver did should be unforgivable.) so not only is Crystal going to let Quicksilver show up and interrogate her on her new marriage, she’s definitely not going to let him down-talk her new husband, who frankly, she’s surprisingly happy with and who’s treated her better and valued her more than Pietro ever did. Also to clarify, this is the conversation where Ronan comes in and checks on Crystal afterwards, asking if she’s alright and insisting he’s not trying to pry (and getting that kiss on the cheek from her); he doesn’t butt in on the conversation at any point and gives them space. I don’t think he’s aware of their previous marital status, that subject might be a bit too heavy for Crystal to share with him so early on, but he clearly senses the tension and makes a point to ask Crystal if she’s okay when he’s able. I think Crystal saying aloud what it is about Ronan that sets him apart from Quicksilver, and how he’s turned out to actually be a really good husband is what maybe flipped that final small switch in her, like hearing it out loud made her think “huh he really has been nothing like I expected, maybe he is someone I can be happy with~” thus prompting the kiss on the cheek even tho she hasn’t yet confronted him about his feelings or made her own clear to him. She’s just very grateful to him, of how kind he’s been, how he’s listened to and valued what she has to say more than Quicksilver or her own family seems to, and of course she’s just endeared to his surprising gentle and sweet nature.

It’s a real shame that Marvel erased all of this in the MCU, Ronan has shown a few minor hints of what could be a personality similar to this in the movies but we all know that didn’t last long. Ronan’s a surprisingly deep character, and a rather sad one when you look at his history, it’s just a lot more subtle than a lot of the big name Marvel characters. Crystal was probably the first truly good thing to have ever happened to him, and aside from her daughter of course, he was probably the same for her as well. The writing of their relationship is my absolute favorite due to how mature and subtle it was. Ronan never tried to win her over so that their marriage would seem more like a desirable thing to her like you’d expect characters in a situation like this to do. He gave her space and respected her boundaries and was just genuine and kind (something we didn’t know he was capable of up until this point), and in doing so she just naturally gravitated towards him. They were both always mature, no petty relationship drama like jealousy or miscommunication like so many couples in fiction are written for the sake of making things interesting (which they never do in my opinion, it’s just annoying) and then is dragged out unnecessarily. None of that cliche “they could easily sort things out if they just talk to each other!” or “person A is jealous of person B just talking to their ex even though there is no reason for them to be”. Crystal and Ronan are both too old and have been through too much to deal with petty nonsense like that. They see each other for their true and genuine selves and love each other for them and that’s all that matters. Like I said, Ronan was willing to defy the whole of the Kree empire, the empire he’s given his life to, for her without a shred of hesitation; and when the Inhumans decided to leave Hala and return to earth, Crystal chose to stay with Ronan (all moments I’ll talk about in a separate post at some point!) 

There’s so much more I could say about just these early stages within Realm of Kings alone but there’s even more within War of Kings and following comics like Fantastic Four and others I want to touch on in another post as alas I don’t have the room for all the images I want to share :’D 

But thank you for reading this far if you did! These two are so special to me and I could talk about them endlessly ;;

[makeste]

BnHA Bonus Diversion: Horikoshi’s Sketches

of all the things I could have spent time writing a post about on my morning off, it ended up being this. but in my defense, Horikoshi’s sketches are actually amazing and this was kind of overdue.

so! as you may know, Horikoshi Kouhei frequently gets bored and doodle-y and is then kind enough to share the resulting drawings with us. sketchy boi. but not sketchy like that. though he did invent Mineta so maybe a little. 

anyway, because he’s so disgustingly talented, these pictures are usually amazing. and there are a lot of them. when I finally got around to doing this post, I ran a search for “Horikoshi sketches” and it turned out there was a whole wiki page dedicated just to them (god bless whoever is running the BnHA wiki, they do such a good job). and, well...

two hundred and eighty-eight. you may recognize this as being nearly fifty more than the current number of chapters. this would mean he’s releasing at least one sketch a week and has been doing so for the past five years! fortunately (for me, who has to do a recap of all these), this number is slightly misleading, as this page apparently includes some of the character sketches he did for the volume omakes. so I don’t have to go through 300 sketches omfg. but still, there are a lot! so I’ll just go through them and post my favorites and see how many we can get through in this post I guess.

these are all in alphabetical order according to their file names on the wiki, and like I said, I’m not doing all of them, just the ones that catch my eye the most. which is still a ton of them. honestly we’re about to find out whether tumblr text posts have image limits. (ETA: the limit does not exist!)

right off the bat we are getting off to a great start! love me the ladies of class 1-A. these girls are all so, so valid. I love how Deku is there too and his hair is transforming into a tree or something.

this is a sketch from chapter 10. this cat I guess just came up to them and they were like “...” and the cat was like “...” and long story short they’ve been like this now for a whole hour. meanwhile Aizawa is wondering where his cat has gone.

why are they dressed like it’s world war I. ??

holy fuck this cat. did it eat the other cat. anyway do you guys think Momo and Todoroki were walking to school together because that’s some cute shit omg. we know there is a cat that hangs out around Shouto’s house, so he’s probably good at playing with stray cats, and they probably really like him because he is calm and kind.

holy shit.

oh my god I need Tsuyu’s siblings to come visit the dorms at U.A. and play with Eri!! now.

posting this one because it’s cute, but also because it notably has nothing at all to do with the actual chapter 120. but that’s okay.

what, and I mean this sincerely, the fuck.

are they making chocolate?? you know, canonically we haven’t actually had a Valentine’s Day yet in the series, and now I’m really hoping we get a little mini plot. things that would happen:

every single girl makes chocolate for Todoroki and he just accepts it very politely and obliviously.

they actually make enough chocolate for everyone (except Mineta. and honestly they would have, except they know how that’s gonna go down, and no. Tsuyu really would have made you some pity chocolate dawg, but you brought this on yourself). but don’t end up giving it to everyone. specifically several of them thought better about giving some to Bakugou after seeing him react to the first unlucky person to give him some (y’all know that song I THREW IT ON THE GROUND by the Lonely Island? I’m sure you can understand my meaning here). and also Jirou gets way too flustered about giving some to Kaminari and chickens out. she gives it to Momo instead. hmmMMMM.

Satou also makes chocolate for everyone, EVEN BAKUGOU, and it’s delicious. no one is throwing his chocolate on the ground.

Aoyama makes chocolate for Deku because!!  ☆ ☆ WE ARE FRIENDS, MON AMI  ☆  ☆  ☆ oui oui baguette.

I love everything about this, but especially Ochako’s face. she’s just like. sincerely trying to figure out exactly where she went wrong.

excuse the fuck out of me but DID HORIKOSHI SERIOUSLY HINT AT THE FUCKING A-BAND A WHOLE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY CHAPTERS BEFORE IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED. omfg. “what a cute AU!” “yes... AU,” Horikoshi agrees, nodding to himself. although after giving it some thought, he made the wise decision to switch Kaminari and Bakugou’s instruments. because we all know Bakugou was born to play the drums.

NO!!! VIDEO GAMES!!! IN CLASS!!!!!!!! [does a fucking aerial while emitting furious little huffs and bitchslapping Kirishima in the face]

I can’t figure out what’s going on in this picture. it appears to be baseball, except that Bakugou doesn’t have a bat. which I guess is the joke?? because his quirk is so strong he doesn’t need the fucking bat? except that I feel like that would result in either a broken arm or a blown-up baseball. idk this would make more sense with him as the pitcher.

“we really do love this AU, Horikoshi-sensei.” “yes... AU.”

this time it’s Shouji on the drums. I get that we all want to see Bakugou shred guitar, but it feels like he was just postponing the inevitable.

a full 85 chapters before he actually did this in the manga. god he really does enjoy foreshadowing with these things. I need to start paying more attention to these.

I have no words.

actually I do have words, and they are, “is that a fucking toothbrush.”

also is it just me or does he look, like, really swole in this pic. like, this is what the scarf has been hiding the whole time?? here we all thought he was a beanpole who subsisted off of energy bars and plain rice, but like. nope.

:) showing that there’s no hard feelings about the whole shooting-you-in-the-fucking-face thing. All Might is squeezing his hand awfully tightly, though.

all of them are so good-looking when they’re not trying. and then they open their mouths.

I am pained that there hasn’t at least been a karaoke chapter in one of the light novels yet, guys. pained. I NEED THIS.

holy fuck Todoroki. what are you, a mermaid?? I feel like this is a result of a prank gone wrong. like the other guys were sick of the girls always pining after him, and so they tried rubbing a balloon on his head in an effort to make him look ridiculous, only IT BACKFIRED COMPLETELY. shit.

fuck me I love this. of course Kami blowdries his hair and puts a ridiculous amount of effort into achieving the same kind of boyishly tousled look Todoroki is JUST NATURALLY BORN WITH. some things in life just aren’t fair. also lmao Deku.

oh my god. how are they all so cute. this was from episode 12 btw. you’re welcome for saving your life All Might.

I don’t have the slightest idea wtf is going on here but omg.

this was for episode 16 of the anime, a.k.a. the obstacle course episode of the Sports Festival arc in season 2. I can’t read what they’re saying, but I’ll tell you what, I know Bakugou is being a rude little shit and I’m here for it.

SHINSOUUUUUU. this was for episode 20. his one and only appearance in the anime so far. he knows he’s here for a good time not a long time.

lmao. my headcanon is that Monoma actually ended up losing after this, but somehow still managed to be smug about it.

lmaoooo. Kacchan refusing to even acknowledge that this is a thing that is happening for some reason.

HAWKS DID YOU REALLY KILL THIS MAN. COME ON OUT HERE I JUST WANT TO TALK.

I feel like taming Deku’s hair is arguably even more of a feat than taming Bakugou’s. meanwhile Iida looks 90% the same. and Todoroki is. well. just goes to show that this look is not for just anyone.

I have never in my life seen Katsuki so full on just done with life. like he is so fucking over this shit. he’s just rolled over and accepted it. I have never seen Bakugou fucking Katsuki just sigh and be all, “you know what, this might as well happen.” not until this moment. wow.

you guys I’m crying.

is it just me or do the little matroyshka dolls actually look like little nun Jeanists. though the hair swoosh is going the wrong way. Monomas, maybe.

HOLY SHIT I LOVE THIS? my god, how useful would Shouji’s quirk be for this sort of thing. and Shouto looks so surprised (on like, a Todoroki scale) to have actually caught something. oh my god. so fucking cute. c’mere you. someone needs a hair ruffle.

I feel like this is how Tokoyami would want to be remembered. yes I know he’s not dead.

oh my god. so I’ve seen this one floating around on tumblr, but like. ffff. it’s my favorite ever. they are. so. fucking. cute. both looking up to All Might. and then the contrast between their innocent happy faces and their shocked and worried expressions watching All Might at Kamino. god it fucking destroys me. all four of these kids need hugs goddammit. the older ones because they’re heartbroken, and the little bubbas just because they’re so stinkin’ cute omfg.

I LOVE HER AND I’M NOT SORRY. please Horikoshi give me more Bakufam in this upcoming arc. who do I have to bribe or threaten.

STRANGER DANGER omg. Toga no. that’s not nice.

Horikoshi what did my heart ever do to you for you to treat it like this.

villain Iida from episode 7 holy fuck I’m dying.

here come the New Year’s sketches! I’ve been looking forward to these. Kacchan photo strategy: never look directly at the camera.

I wonder which animal year 2016 was. rooster, probably.

fucking look at Todoroki fucking Shouto stuffing his face yet again. can you stop chewing for one fucking second. we’re trying to take a picture you slob.

the year is 2018. Horikoshi Kouhei attempts to draw a dog, because it’s the year of the fucking dog. it does not go well. panicked, he takes the All Might he’s already started drawing, and for some reason attempts to turn it into another dog. it goes even worse. now he’s really starting to sweat. “oh shit,” he whispers, drawing Deku upside-down in his unrest. “oh fuck.” finally he just draws Bakugou shouting the words HAPPY NEW YEAR in giant letters across the screen, hoping that’ll be enough to distract everyone from all the rest of it. it is not.

oh my god. thank you so much to everyone who went to SDCC and made him so happy. this is the purest thing I’ve ever seen. also loving Bakugou tolerating the shit out of All Might leaning on him omg. I’m so fucking weak for this as always.

this is Horikoshi’s most recent sketch! lookit, he’s so happy with the toy him omg. it actually is really badass.

league of dorks. I love Toga’s face. and how Horikoshi clearly put more effort into drawing Tomura’s Face Hand than the entire rest of the picture.

I don’t understand a single element of this. wow. also this is twice now that Horikoshi has drawn the fucking Predator in these sketches. just pointing that out. of all the films to make multiple references to. what’s going on here. and is Mineta playing the fucking little sister in Totoro. am I losing my fucking mind.

this was for the season 3 premiere. I love how Bakugou and Deku are wrestling for control of the screen. but he knows better than to touch Mineta I guess.

Iida and Ochako are the only two reacting appropriately here. Bakugou just looks concerned. to be fair I guess that’s appropriate too. but Deku is all “fuck YEAH All Might you go ahead and SMASH YOUR FACE RIGHT THROUGH THAT MONITOR” and I feel like his blanket approval of all his mentor’s actions has finally gone too far.

this just goes to show you that even a very simple sketch concept can pay off dividends if you play your cards right. good job Horikoshi.

he could run faster if he just pulled his fucking pants up. does anyone have any brain cells to spare for my son here. please he needs them. I don’t know what he thinks a belt is actually for...?

hello this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and also is Kirishima doing the kage bunshin pose from Naruto or.

sob Aizawa I’m dead. I fucking love how Mineta is like HE’S CLEARLY FINE IT WAS A FLOP as though Kirishima is not literally covered in fucking grape balls. something else I also love is that Katsuki is number 10 and Deku is number 11. even in a soccer match he can’t stand to be lower then his rival sob. also Ochako is straight up about to rip off Mina’s head jesus christ girl run.

there aren’t even words for how much I ship this. just emotions. omg.

this is one of those pictures that keeps getting more wtf the longer you stare at it. naturally your eyes are drawn to Todoroki’s reindeer antlers first. by contrast, Ochako looks relatively normal, even with the odd pose. but then you notice Deku’s Christmas tree hair. from there your eyes are drawn down to his strange lack of a shirt. and then, finally, you spot him. Tokoyami. you wonder if the mangaka has finally gone too far. you’re still not sure.

for once it’s not Todoroki who’s leaping into action with his mouth full. never one to back down from a challenge, Bakugou has picked the absolute least practical food to consume whilst in the middle of battling. I can barely eat spaghetti without making a mess when I’m not throwing down. I’m not sure what a good food to eat while throwing down would be, but maybe something more portable, like a calzone.

I feel drawn to him the same way one might be drawn to a stray cat, even though you’re pretty sure the cat is really wary of people and will probably try to claw or bite you if you get too close. I would like to pat him on the head, but he might try to blow me up. eh, worth it.

look at the Baku Protection Squad trying to do some fucking Abbey Road thing. damn you can really see how short Tokoyami is in this. also Bakugou buys pants that are at least three sizes too big I s2g.

and that’s it! anyways, this was fun as heck. I’ve bookmarked Horikoshi’s Twitter now so I can keep up with the new sketches as they’re released. this is fucking great, and a whole new bonus to being caught up with the manga that I haven’t been appreciating until now. fucking love it.

[ladyofpurple]

answer all of the questions!!

holy SHIT ok bless you omg

(sorry it's a full day late i took this shit SERIOUSLY. don't ask me how many hours this took, i was in A Mood™️ last night. removed the ones already answered xoxo)

angel; have you ever been in love?

yeah. didn't end too well, but i loved him.

petal; favorite novel and author?

this is like asking me to pick a favorite child. i guess favorite author would be stephen king, if only based entirely on the sheer quantity of his books i own alone. favorite book would probably be special topics in calamity physics by marisha pessl, and i'm only saying that because it's been my go-to response for years. i have lots of favorite books. ask me again in five minutes and i'll give you another one.

honey perfume; favorite perfume/scent?

freshly made coffee. lilacs. jasmine. cut grass. the ground after it rains. chocolate chip cookies in the oven. cigarette smoke on skin. my mom's shampoo. my grandma. my dog when he's just had a bath. thanksgiving dinner. acrylic paint on canvas. sawdust. that one cologne i can't name but can smell on a guy from a mile away. mulled cranberry and apple juice. vanilla. coconut. fresh laundry. peppermint.

sweet pea; what’s your zodiac?

virgo sun, pisces moon, scorpio rising ✨

softie; talk about your sexuality.

i'm biromantic asexual, primarily attracted to men more than women (but have had too many crushes on girls to consider myself het), generally sex repulsed when it comes to the thought of having it myself. i prefer to call myself queer in passing conversation, it's easier than explaining asexuality and the differences between sexual and romantic attraction. if someone asks more specifically, i'll usually just call myself bi for simplicity's sake, even though the ace part is a much more important (to me) part of my identity. monogamous as fuck.

i'm still struggling with internalized homophobia and a lot of "am i even queer enough" thoughts, which is super fun. took me a long time to even consider the fact that i might like girls at all. i'll probably never come out to my parents. not that they'd, like, disown me or whatever, but they're juuuuust homophobic/transphobic enough that my few attempts to educate them when they say something A Little Yikes have shown me that i should probably just stay in the closet unless i absolutely have to come out. like i'm getting married to a woman or something.

sugarplum; what’s the color of your eyes and hair?

i usually say my eyes are green because it's easier, and they mostly are, but i have rings of greyish blue around the irises and sometimes they're more hazel in the middle. they always have a green tint to them though, even if the intensity of the green varies.

my natural hair is brown, a little on the darker and slightly ashy side of completely generic. currently a former blonde, although i'm hoping to bleach my fucking YEAR of growout soon, and then go some crazy color as a last hurrah before i have to go dark again. being broke fucking sucks.

wings; coffee or tea?

tea!! black tea. chai, to be specific, with an irresponsible amount of milk and sugar. chai lattes are a fucking drug okay? coffee makes me sick (not a judgement, a literal fact. last time i tried some i threw up).

fairytale; are you a cat or dog person?

cat!! but my family has a chihuahua named sonny and you can pry that little monster from my cold dead hands ok i will fight you.

snowflake; favorite time period?

okay, i wrote and rewrote my answer to this about 10 times. then i tried to divide it up into categories (aesthetics, history, fashion, vibes, geographical location, etc), but that didn't help. so basically: i don't have one, because i have too many.

i like the american 20s-60s for the aesthetic, music/movies, and the fashion. i also like the european 1600s-1800s for the interesting history and also vibe. i love the french and russian revolutions — the fashion! the art! the wars and political upheaval! I FUCKING LOVE HISTORY. then, of course, we can't forget the rennaisance. or the witch trials (pick your continent). and ancient greece? the roman empire? hello?? did i mention empires? how bout we mosy on over to south america — can i interest you in the mayans? incans? aztecs? what about china and japan? korea? vietnam? and don't even get me fucking STARTED on the black plague.

ancient egypt? sign me the FUCK UP. vikings? yes please. the celts? oh boy. the MYTHOLOGY. the ARCHITECTURE. the LANGUAGES and POLITICS and LITERATURE and REVOLUTIONS and GOD HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE BETWEEN ANY OF THESE

i uh. might have gotten a little excited. basically i like history a lot. and mythology. and linguistics. and cultural practices. and the politics and prejudices behind wars and stuff. and learning in general. moving on.

vanilla; do you believe in ghosts?

let's put it this way: i don't not believe in ghosts??

listen. we don't know jack shit. we don't know what happens after we die, there are constant scientific revelations that turn our understanding of the universe completely upside-down, and there is literally no way to know which religions or myths or urban legends could have some grain of truth to them. like, dude, i've literally thought i was haunted before. psychology is bananas and the universe is infinite.

demons could be real. ghosts could be real. what if we just haven't invented the necessary technology to prove it yet? what if we never do, and they just fuck around alongside us, moving furniture and making shadow puppets on the walls just for kicks until the earth explodes? what if that one tumblr post was right and ghosts are actually real people from alternate universes or timelines that we see accidentally bc some cosmic wires got crossed? who fucking knows.

i love horror movies and scary stories and ghost hunter shows just as much as the next gal. but listen. psychics? mediums? people who accept every single creepypasta retold third-hand from their neighbor's kid's classmate's second cousin who "totally knows a guy"? doubt.jpeg

i don't understand the sheer amount of assumptions made willy-nilly about the nature of ghosts and demons and things that go bump in the night. the assumption that "oh this machine that totally doesn't look like a coathanger taped to a walkman will work because ghosts have this temperature and can always communicate like this and are electromagnetic" or whatever just baffles me. to a certain degree, following a general consensus is one thing — some basic things everyone can agree on? that's cool. ghosts can walk through walls and are probably dead people or whatever. but oh my god, taking every single story as absolute, undeniable proof?? taking these stories and expanding on them to infer intentions and scientific facts to something that by it's very nature is unknowable and assuming, like, every spirit is created equal?? and yeah, ghost hunting shows are fun and campy and kinda creepy but like. you really, genuinely don't think any of them have ever faked anything at all??? even if ghosts are real, it's fucking reality tv, my dude. it's the entertainment industry. at least maintain the slightest ounce of critical thought before taking zak bagans' word as the goddamn gospel.

and sidenote, maybe it's just my limited exposure as a white woman in the western world, but of all the shows and podcasts and movies and documentaries and whatnot i've been able to find and consume, there's the constant use of christian ideology applied to every situation that just really burns my bacon. what, there's never been an atheist ghost? if you see a shadow person and you don't know the lord's prayer by heart, are you automatically fucked? why are there never stories about, i don't know, viking ghosts? does your religion in life preclude you from becoming a ghost in the first place? is that why people never mention buddhist ghosts? i don't get it, and that's why even though i'm self-admittedly the most superstitious person i've ever met, true believers make me roll my eyes so hard they almost fall out. makes me come across as more skeptical than i theoretically am. I HAVE VERY STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT THIS OK

but like, you couldn't pay me to fuck with a ouija board. i'm not stupid.

delicate; diamonds or pearls?

both have their appeal and their place, but diamonds, i guess. i like the sparkle. but fake ones!! or synthetic. diamonds are overpriced and artificial scarcity is a scam and i don't need a dumb rock that some poor person in a mine somewhere was exploited and possibly died for. no blood diamonds in this house, thank you very much.

if i ever get engaged, i don't want a diamond ring. i'd want something cool, a little unusual, like a ruby or a sapphire or some other sparkly gem that isn't literally shoved in your face every waking moment as the expected standard symbol of True Love. they're cheaper, they're cool-looking, as a ring they still hold the cultural symbolism of an engagement/wedding ring. and honestly, as long as it's well-made and durable, whatever hypothetical gem it is doesn't have to be real either. i'm a woman of simple needs and demonstrably low standards. no point in going into debt for a fucking piece of jewelry, regardless of ~tradition~.

lavender dream; favorite album?

oh lord. welcome to the black parade, i guess. or anything by panic! at the disco. there are dozens of possible options — my interests are mercurial and my memory is garbage. but i'll always be an emo little shit. black parade and vices and virtues were also the first two albums i ever listened to where i loved every single song on them, and i happened to listen to them for the first time at around the same point in my life (i got into mcr super late. like, 2012 late. rip).

silky; what’s your biggest dream?

it's cheesy but i guess i just want stability and, by extension, happiness. emotional stability, mental stability, financial stability, stable living situation, stable routines, stable relationships... you get the idea. i have ambitions and passions, of course, but my ultimate goal is happiness at this point in my life, and i'm pretty sure stabilizing all those things would go a pretty long way in achieving that goal.

a little apartment with walls i can paint because white walls make me angry. bookshelves and posters and fandom merch on every wall. a computer i can actually play games on again, and somewhere i can paint and draw and record my podcasts. someone who loves me, maybe. a cat, if i'm stable enough. space for people to come visit me, and a place for them to sleep if they need. a tiny balcony, if i really want to shoot for the stars. a job i don't hate. the spoons to hang out with my friends, and the money to not worry about buying little presents for the people i care about sometimes. i don't need much.

strawberry kiss; do you have a crush right now?

nope.

glitter; favorite fictional character?

another loaded question. like books, if you ask me again in five minutes i'll probably give you a different answer. but in this particular moment, caleb and jester from critical role (please don't make me choose between them). i won't go full shipping mode rn, but jester is so funny and silly and sweet, so much more complex than she seems, and she tries so hard to make everyone happy even when she's so sad inside. the healer who treats healing as an inconvenience in battle (she's so fucking valid and also mood), the glue that keeps the party together. and caleb learning to trust again, facing his trauma and coming out of his shell. he loves his friends so much he plays wizard as a support class and i love him so much.

i love the mighty nein in general, of course, and all the guests/honorary members they've had. pumat!! pls don't be evil reani!! keg!! shakäste and grand duchess anastasia!! cali!! kiri!!!! the brotps! empire siblings! chaos crew! nott the best detective agency! i still love molly and all his assholery to bits (fight me), and mourn his lost potential. i adore yasha, even when she's gone; fjord has grown so much; beau and nott and caduceus — i love all their flaws and disagreements and their character arcs and the excitement of watching them grow and learn. but if i had to choose, caleb, jester and molly have always been my top 3 since day 1 and, well, molly isn't really an option anymore.

but like i said, ask me again in a minute. i have a fucking list.

swan; share a quote or passage that means something to you.

a collection of things off the top of my head:

Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition. — Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen

a tired feminist Mood™️

"What I say is, a town isn't a town without a bookstore. It may call itself a town, but unless it's got a bookstore, it knows it's not foolin' a soul." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

i got my love of books from my grandma — some of my favorites i got from her. sometimes, as a treat, she used to take my sister and i to bookstores and we'd stay there for ages, getting to pick one out, roaming the shelves, the mental torture of having to choose. the peace of being surrounded by thousands of potential worlds, so much information, so many stories just waiting to be told; being surrounded by strangers who share that same wonder. the anxious drive home so we could read them, being unable to wait that long so i inevitably start reading in the car and make myself sick. telling her in excited detail all my favorite parts. if we were lucky, maybe we got to split a bear claw, or she'd drive past starbucks and get us something there too (tall vanilla soy steamer with one pump of vanilla syrup, whipped cream on top that always melted too quickly and squirted out the hole in the lid, so hot it burned my tongue but so good i didn't care). i have never felt more at home than i do when i'm surrounded by books.

"There are a lot of different types of freedom. We talk about freedom the same way we talk about art, like it was a statement of quality rather than a description. “Art” doesn’t mean good or bad. Art just means art. It can be terrible and still be art. Freedom can be good or bad, too. There can be terrible freedom. You freed me, and I didn’t ask you to." — Alice Isn't Dead, season 1, chapter 2: Alice

as cringey as it is to admit it, this line made me cry a lot after my breakup.

"So you aren't American?" asked Shadow.

"Nobody's American," said Wednesday. "Not originally. That's my point." — American Gods, Neil Gaiman

[side-eyes white america real hard]

there's more, of course. there's always more. don't even get me started on song lyrics, we'll be here all day.

lace; what’s your favorite plant/flower?

lilacs and roses.

mermaid; do you prefer the forest or the ocean? why?

both, i guess. but in different ways, and in different circumstances.

the sea is wild. it is endless and deep and unknowable. it is beautiful and dangerous. i am terrified of the ocean, and yet my favorite place in the world is an empty beach on the oregon coast. i have picked sand from between my toes for days with hair crusted in salt, danced around bonfires and watched the stars while marshmallows burn, gotten pulled under the waves as a child and nearly swept out to sea. picked starfish and crabs from small pools in the rocks, and swum (accidentally) with wild sea lions. in a long skirt, too early in the year to be swimming, i once took off my shoes and waded fully clothed into the water to my waist and just... danced. splashed and kicked and laughed with a boy i barely knew until our throats were sore and our toes were numb, walking home hours later with our soaked clothes clinging to our legs, shoes squelching, dripping algae as we went. the ocean is freeing and overwhelming all at once. i love it and am petrified by it in equal measure.

the forest is beautiful in a different way. it is silent and dense and serene. you are surrounded by life and yet, somehow, completely alone. there is magic in the forest, and history, and even when all else dies, that will remain. the trees grow from the corpses of their ancestors, and some have lived dozens of our lifetimes — with luck, a few dozen more. it is quiet there, peaceful, even the tiniest wood in the middle of a city muffling the outside world through the trees. you can feel the ancient ways deep in your soul as you follow winding paths strewn with fallen leaves, the mystery and wonder and superstitions of your forefathers. you wonder what it would be like, to run your fingers over the moss, to take off your shoes and socks and just run, leaping and dancing over rocks and roots, hair wild and air filling your lungs in deep, pure gulps as you shed the responsibilities and struggles of modern life, for just a moment remembering what freedom tastes like. it is primal, this connection to nature, one we have nearly forgotten over time. and as the sky grows dark and the silence of night presses against you, shadows looming, every footfall deafening, perhaps you begin to understand why some believed in monsters.

honeymoon; do you keep a journal?

i used to. honestly, that's a good idea, i should start doing that again. lord knows i have enough empty journal-type books.

starlight; do you believe in love at first sight and soulmates? why/why not?

i want to. i want to believe there's someone out there for me, the love of my life, someone to whom i'll be the love of their life, and that when i meet them i'll just... know.

but when i met my ex, i didn't really look twice at him for a while — no love at first sight. and when we were together, when i loved him and he swore he loved me back, i thought he hung the stars in the sky and knew i would marry him someday. couldn't even consider the idea that that wouldn't happen. and then when he broke up with me, he ghosted me so suddenly and thoroughly that he even preemptively cut contact with every single one of our mutual friends he thought might side with me in the breakup, before anybody even knew we'd had a fight. so, not soulmates either.

i really want to believe that someday the perfect romance will just fall into place and i can have the happily ever after i've always dreamed of. but the reality is i might never even have another s.o. for the rest of my life. maybe i'll get hit by a car tomorrow, or my hypothetical soulmate moves to argentina to become an alpaca farmer on a mountain somewhere and we never even meet. maybe i'm so traumatized by the betrayal and lies that i'll never have the courage to even try again.

and even so, happily ever after doesn't have to include a fairytale romance, regardless of whether i want it or not. i still like to cling to that hope though, deep down.

princess; what do you value most in people?

i'm going to assume you mean "real people" as in people i have positive relationships with, and not random strangers on the street.

loyalty. kindness. support. humor. similar values. patience. being able to grow together and teach each other things, so we can make each other better. honesty. trust. compassion. confidence. emotional vulnerability. communication. intelligence, or at least a willingness to learn. strength.

[rainydaysandumbrellas]

If stress rants trigger you scroll past

So I am fairly certain that I have never posted an original thought on this site. Don’t judge I’m a reblogged not an art, poetry, gif, or meme thief. My mom always hyped how forever the internet was and despite growing up in the era of social media I never felt comfortable posting anything even in a place as anonymous as Tumblr can be. 

Which is crazy because let me tell you I had absolutely no problem opening my mouth and saying some super personal crazy would probably be best left in my head stuff to people, face to face. It’s as if I had the whole concept backward; rather than say the crazy stuff anonymously and keeping the “okay to share in public” stuff for IRL my hormonally imbalanced brain was like, F*ck that. But anyway that was how I did it and why I have only ever felt comfortable enough to reblog things rather than putting my own personal thoughts out there to be saved forever.

I also realize that it is ridiculously narcissistic to think that anyone will read what I’ve written here and literally think anything other than, “Oh another one of my generic content reblogging blogs is having a come to google moment.” (There was this one Olicity fanfic where Felicity substituted Google for God, i.e “For the love of Google” and now I do that completely un-ironically, but in this case for Jesus, so...) But maybe it’s not so narcissistic because I have read things that were powerful and soul-baring on here and been moved to tears. I have read people’s confessions and felt that unmistakable hitch of breath in my throat because I didn’t realize that there was anyone else out there that saw things the way I did or felt lost the way I have, or just was brave enough to say exactly what I wanted to be brave enough to say. 

I have never posted something personal before because I was scared that I would be wrong, or look foolish, or be insignificant; I was afraid posting would prove right every bad thought the greasy black voice of anxiety has whispered to me in my 24 years of existence. But I have finally hit a wall. I am more afraid of something else than I am of that very likely irrational fear coming true.

The questionable possibly triggering stuff is between the forward slashes?

///I am currently Quarantined like so many others. I am so lucky; I know there are so many people who need help and I am not trying to dramatize my situation. There is a higher likelihood that I come out of this thing on the other side with only minimal scarring. But even with that being the case, I’m scared. I have a big imagination and it loves playing the what-if game, and I’m not talking the what if I had a million dollars, or superpowers, or no student debt. No, my brain loves to do the “what if the banks crash and my money for food is gone, or the grocery stores can’t get food, what if this goes on so long I lose my job, or my sister loses her job, or if everything stops and people start looting and killing each other for limited resources, what if instead of coming together people fall prey to their inner demons and we all end up climbing overtop one another to survive./// 

My fear is not that those things will actually happen. It would be horrible and terrifying if they did. I’m not sure that I am the character that makes it to the end of the horror movie my brain is currently trying to convince me I’m in. But what really scares me is that I can’t tell anyone that I’m worried about this. To some degree or other everyone on the face of the whole freaking planet is worrying about this. When I reach out to my support network they are all struggling just as hard as I am to keep it together and the last thing they need is my spinning out. 

I need to though. I need to spin out. I need to lay bare just how crazy my thoughts are getting up in my head because that is the only way I know to make them go away. That is the only way I know to objectively look at them and say, “You are not nearly as big and bad as you think. I see you and you are not stronger than me.” Or, “I see you and you’re bad, but I’ve survived shit before and I’ll survive you too.” 

Saying it out loud is the only tool that has reliably worked for me. Which is, in hindsight, probably why I said the embarrassing personal stuff out loud. I’ve always been really unsuccessful in trying to be something that I’m not; it didn’t stop me from trying though for all of middle and high school, and some of college, but I digress. I need to speak into existence the big bad thoughts in my head. Getting them out of me through words allows me to handle them. Even if they are legitimate fears, which in this time of global crisis some of my worries may not be far off from real troubles I will face. 

But, and I have used “but” so much in this post, But that’s just it, come what will, and you can be damn sure whether I worry about it or not, it will come; I’ll face it. If that is poverty, okay others have survived much longer with much less, if that’s a totalitarian state, okay I’ve always wanted to put my passion for personal freedoms to the test, sign me up for the resistance, if that’s death, okay morbid thought, but I have had amazing moments of happiness in my life and known the love of friends and family and community; I’ve never been in love but 3 out of 4 isn’t bad. 

It’s not the things that are going to happen that terrify me. It’s the paralyzing what if’s that are keeping me in a constant state of stress and panic that I can’t share with any of my people because, for once, they are in the same bad place I am, at the same time. 

So I am more afraid of my thoughts festering unchecked than what the permanent whole of the internet thinks of me, and I intended to use this platform as my cathartic scream into the void. Perhaps shouting here, even if no one can stop to listen, will quiet my anxiety monster and allow me some clarity as I move forward into an intimidating tomorrow that I cannot even begin to predict. 

and if you’ve stayed with me this long, google bless you, if this speaks to you on some level, just know that there is someone else out there unsure, scared, making it up minute by minute, trying their best to do the next right thing when there is no handbook for this shit, worried about burdening the people they love with words they are desperate to say. Just know that I’m somewhere out there hopping some sees this nods their head and says

“Me too buddy, me too.”

[xaz-fr]

I’ll edit links for previous chapters later but you know how Tumblr feelse about links but they’re all in the zs tag

Set in a fantasy world of the semi socialist society Fey Alliance with magic, dick head dragon riders, benevolent necromancers, and even bigger dick head gods of mischief. The Zealous Servant is the story about a guy named Spayar who, has to keep his crown prince of a bff from being murdered by his entire family by murdering them first. Though Spayar just wants to take a nap and find a cute boy to kiss and not have to worry about his corpse potentially being dragged through the street after a war. Better win that shit then.

I will only ping this particular list once and if you want to be pinged for future posts a like or reblog will get you on the next pinglist. Reblogs (especially with a dumb comment but not required) are way more appreciated as it allows other people to see the work

@deadpool-scar-bro @starry-ampelope @golden-lionsnake @massdestructionn @frxemriss

Finally y’all get to meet Diylan, the last pretty major character of the story. He doesn’t have a super lot to do right now but in future things he is SUPER important. Also he’s basically the boy version of Tassa: a real slut and I fucking love him

It was pouring out. Not exactly surprising. Spayar had his rain coat hanging on the back of a chair just outside the family shrine. In the Alliance most Feylon went to temples to pray. Spayar was the first born of immigrants and hadn't been raised the same way. He knew the process of going to a temple and leaving offerings for all the gods, like he'd taken his siblings to yesterday but it wasn't how he worshipped, not how he'd been taught by his parents.

In Dirin everyone had a patron god that chose them at a young age. Sometimes in a dream or in an event in their life. While free worship of the other gods awas encouraged most Dirinians primarily worshipped only their patron god. They kept shrines to their gods in their homes. He had older aunties and uncles from Dirin who had their gods tattood or branded onto their bodies as a form of constant worship. 

The family shrine had six statues, one for each of the children, and one for their parents, in an elaborate alcove his father had added onto the house when Spayar was small, when Calli was but an infant and Spayar was just starting to really talk. He'd built it around the same time they both stopped talking in Dirnine exclusively around him so he'd learn Feylian better and without their accent. The shrine was a gilt table covered in Dirin motifs: palms, hyenas, crocodile, and great sand dunes that cupped the western part of the country. A sphinx sat with raised wings in the backdrop. The statues of the gods were arranged by size with the largest being Spayar's and his parents and then his siblings’ being smaller.

Relora’s goddess had one eye in the middle of her forehead and was shrouded in veils that concealed most of her body. Her name was Dehvonokoz, she was a seer, a counterpart to the Feylon Belldha. Spayar Sr.’s statue belonged to the god Enko, the god of fire and willfulness. He leaned against a long spear, balanced on one leg, the other foot resting on the calf of the standing one. Enko had no true feylon counterpart but seemed to be a male version of Galaia.

On one side were Anora and Duren’s personal gods. Duren’s was the Feylon god Maldrin, god of makers and a bit of a trickster. He had a wide, grinning, mouth, and balanced a knife on the tip of his finger. Anora’s statue was to the Feylon goddess Pacia, goddess of mercy and was always depicted as a young woman wearing full plate armor. To the other side where Calli and Spayar’s gods. Unlike their siblings Calli and Spayar had Dirin gods, as they were more Dirinnan than their little siblings. Their parents had decided it was better this way. Calli’s statue was of the goddess Nuvokon, goddess of wells and springs and held a jug that poured ever flowing water onto a parched earth. She also had no true Feylon counterpart but Calli hardly ever prayed to her either.

Then there was Spayar’s. Densinn, or as his mother called him: Sevok, the lying crocodile. No matter what pantheon he resided in Densinn always looked the same: an iconography that spanned the continent. He was a young man with a charming smile, mouth sewn shut, hands cut off at the wrist and wrapped in golden fleece. Densinn was not a god most people wanted to associate with. He was a trickster godmwho would lead you down a path you didn't want to go down if you weren't careful. Spayar had dreamed about him when he was a boy. A haggard man with eyes like fire, bloody stumps for hands, still trying to open his mouth despite the stitches. 

Densinn was not a benevolent god but appeared in many stories of the gods especially around the brothers Lemp and Anceion as one of the first gods they wove into being along with Can'dhe, Perunez, Galaia and Tipal. Densinn was the god of language and had been the first one to utter a word and whisper it into a human's ear. He'd taught humans to speak, write, and create sign language. He had a gold and poison tongue that spoke truth as often as it spoke lies. He'd been the first thing to lie as much as the first to sing and orate. Once he'd been a powerful god like the other first borns but earned his fathers’ ire because of his lies and tales, and his promises to teach dogs and fish to talk like he had their precious humans. So the brothers had ripped out his tongue, sewn his mouth shut and chopped off his hands so he could never speak again.

Mostly under protest Spayar worshipped Densinn and called him that out of spite. He might have a personal god like a Dirinnan but he wasn't and knew he wasn't going to give Densinn the satisfaction of using his Dirnnan name. He also didn't pray often but he'd been meaning to lately, especially after what had happened to him lately. Talking like a man possessed. Like a man unafraid of death.

“You did that when I saw Teldin, didn't you?” he asked the statue. “And with Pale Cross. You're going to get me killed at this rate.” Densinn was a liar but great at saying whatever he needed to get the job done. “I’m not a use to you dead.”

The statue was unmoving. Spayar sighed and looked up at the ceiling in annoyance. “You’re not even listening are you?” he huffed softly. He'd seen the statue move once or twice as a boy. He'd told his mother and she just said his god was watching him, which with a god like Densinn was not always a good thing.

Spayar went to his rain coat and grabbed his coin purse. He found a golden atrin and brought it back to the painted wooden statue. He made a slight face as he bent the atrin and pulled it with his mattallurgist magic. Elemental magic wasn't a weave or a spell, it was just an extension of being and Spayar was not very good at it. The trick back at King’s Casket where he'd pulled Pale Cross’ knife out of his belt had been a fluke and a lucky one at that. Even he'd been surprised it had worked. Not cutting himself hadn't been, but his ability was limited. He fiddled with the soft metal, shaping it in his hands before he got it to look approximately like how he wanted. It was a pair of roughly made golden hands. He added a spike to the end and lifted the little statue to pin them into the wrists. He put the statue back down.

“Don’t ignore me, Densinn,” he said seriously. “I’ve seen your shrine on Swan Island; I'm your only worshipper. Don't ignore me.”

“Spayar, mazuk, the cabbie is outside,” his mother called from the door.

“Coming!” he called back. “Don’t let me die, Densinn. You need me,” and he went to grab his rain coat. As he pulled it on he glanced back at the statue. He wasn't sure if he was happy or sad the statue was different. Densinn was winking at him. “Great,” he muttered and grabbed his hat from the chair seat and went out to meet the cabbie who was standing at the doorway with an umbrella ready for him.

—

The sand the wyrm landed on was warm even though Spayar’s boots which he was grateful for. He was cold! After the all day flight up north on wyrm back at high altitudes he was close to shivering despite purposefully layering up like he was going to Surassa for the winter. Being a fire warlock Von had been a blessing as he was able to keep them warm for a while but even he had difficulty with the high cold winds. No wonder flighters wore such thick jackets and pants all the time.

The sun was just starting to set when they arrived and were given over to a man who gave them a room and meals and said the Wyrm Lord would be alerted they'd arrived but were free to do as they pleased.

The room they'd been given was a shared room which Spayar did not like. He hadn't slept in the same room as Von since he'd hit puberty and wasn't looking forward to starting now. Von was just busy stuffing his face. They'd stopped once briefly for lunch but normally postal flighters even ate their meals awing if going across the country. Spayar couldn't say he was particularly hungry. The height and motions of the great wyrm had made food the last thing on his mind.

“Are we just going to see him tonight?” Spayar asked, picking at the steamed fish seasoned with more lemon than Spayar knew was possible. 

“Yes. We aren't staying long,” Von said. “Teldin has the cooperation of the White Foot so there is nothing north or west of use to me.”

“The Norths,” Spayar said.

“I think they've had their share of war for a few more generations,” was all Von said. Spayar didn't disagree. “I want to get in and out of here.”

Soayar finally ate some of the fish. It was good, very sharp, which he wasn't expecting. “This isn't about the Wyrm Lord is it?”

“It is.”

“You just want bully him into giving your Diylan,” Spayar said, seeing through him.

“Okay maaaybe I am,” Von said with a slight grin. “But he has no alligence to my family other than that my mother is Asuras. There's no Conflicy yet so he hasn't picked a side.”

“That you know of.”

“Well are you not sharing information, Spayar?” Von gave him an annoyed look.

“No. I haven't heard anything either.”

“Exactly. Which is why I'm here now before my siblings show up. Once they learn I have the Rosalia they will try for the Drake just because the Drake hate them and want to fight them.”

“Which is stupid,” Spayar said blandly.

“Yes,” Von agreed. “Now are you done? You know how Diylan is. The sooner we see him the better we'll find him in his room.”

Spayar ate four more bites, which was about as much as he could stomach. “Okay, let's go.” He made sure to take off his coat before following Von. 

The Wyrd was an old, mostly dormant, volcano. Most of the mountain was in some way hollow and the central cone was a great shaft that ran up through the entire mountain to the sky. When they left the tunnel it was just barely still light out and Spayar glanced up, the circle of sky was starting to turn indigo as night approached. At the bottom of the cone was a large grounds filled with hot sand, warmed from underground to help keep the Wyrd warm even at this altitude. A ring had been cut around the bottom of the cone for foot traffic and two long, spiraling, staircases ran up the entire length of the cone in opposite directions with damaged landings at regular intervals. Down on the first floor the walls were covered in mosaics of orange groves and the sky, the ground paved in circular designs. Spayar had to admit, though there were no real buildings in the Wyrd the place was still beautiful and covered in the wealth of the Drake.

"So, Diylan?" Von asked as they stood for a moment under the cut overhang of the central cone, both trying not to gape at the magnitude of the Wyrd and failing a bit. "Which staircase is he again?"

"The red one I believe," Spayar said. The staircases had the front facing side of each step painted red or blue and where they  overlapped was purple. "Two curves up?"

"Why don't you just stop acting like you don't know exactly where he is?" Von grumbled, Spayar grinned, "You're completely insufferable."

"Come along my princeling," Spayar chuckled and started for the red stairs. At each landing there were huge grooves cut into the rock and Spayar knew they weren't there for decorative purposes. Climbing stairs sucked even for Von, who lived five floors up, so it was just much easier to get your wyrm to fly up to your landing, grab on, and climb off, than to have to walk up the stairs to your landing.

They were both out of breath and Spayar's legs were sore when they reached the proper landing. No matter how in shape you were stairs were still rough, especially with how many they'd just climbed. "Show off," Von grumbled as across from them on the blue staircase a wyrm landed on the wall, great claws digging into the wall, and their rider sliding off and onto the landing without incident. They then opened a portal and the wyrm crawled in and was gone.

Spayar chuckled, "C'mon, we're almost there," and he went into the tunnel on the landing. Here the lights were magical in nature, growing brighter as people neared them. They walked down the hallway, along the curve of the mountain, to a door. Spayar knocked. No answer. Spayar knocked again, louder this time. Von gave him a look and Spayar traced a new weave into the door to check to make sure he was at least in there were magic, just giving a brief courtesy inspection of the room and yes, Diylan was indeed in there.

"Well?" Von asked.

"He's in," Spayar banged his fist on the door. "Diylan, open up, I know you're in there," he yelled.

There was a moment and then the door opened. "Who the hell is- oh... you two," Diylan wasn't wearing a shirt and barely wearing any pants, which were holding onto his hips for dear life.

"Did we interrupt?" Von asked though with the air of someone who really didn't care.

Diylan gave Von a look, "Yes actually, you are," he said irritably. "But the royal family doesn't care if they bother the common people do they?" Diylan was the only one of their friends who gave Von the same amount of shit Spayar did. Diylan wasn't afraid of Von like most of their friends were, even if they didn't realize they were. 

"Nope," Von said, "We require you now and they can wait."

Diylan gave Von a look, "You know when people normally tell me that sort of stuff they're usually promising me more than a hard time. Unless you're up for that," and Von rolled his eyes even as the tips of his peaked ears turned pink. "Didn't think so," Diylan looked at Spayar, "What about you junior?" he asked.

"I'm far too good for you Diylan," Spayar said. Not that Diylan wasn't nice to look at without a shirt on. Diylan was hot, tall and huge with pale white skin, green eyes with gray scleras, short, messy copper hair with a silver streak along one side and more freckles than you could count. Too bad he was a bit of a man whore and even for Spayar that was too much.

Diylan leaned against his door frame, Von now completely forgotten. "That so?" he asked, his green eyes gleamed with challenge. "And who's to say that, hmm? Too good to lower yourself to some flighter?"

"More I don't like easy men," Spayar said.

Diylan smirked, "I can be hard for you Spayar-

"You two," Von interrupted, mortified as he realized what his friends were doing. "Can you not?"

"Awww? What's wrong Gard? Don't like me encroaching on your territory?" Diylan asked.

Von actually flushed a little, "I don't need to watch you two flirt," he said irritably. Spayar rolled his eyes a little.

"Ah... seems your lord doesn't like the idea of you having any fun, junior," Diylan said.

"Oh lay off Diylan. He's only sixteen and still a boy.” He and Diylan laughed. "Okay that's enough fun at our prince's expense," Spayar said.

"Yeah yeah, come in, I'll get dressed," Diylan moved out of the way and they went in, Von trying to control himself better but it was nice for Spayar to see Von actually get flustered. It also made him glad Von seemed so against Spayar getting with Diylan. There was a small sitting room in the front and half a wall between it and the bedroom. "Get up love, got more pressing things to attend."

"What? But we were-

"I'm quite aware what we were," Diylan interrupted her, "But I have important guests. So get dressed a see yourself out," and Diylan was pulling on clothes. Spayar and Von sat while he was talking.

A minute later a woman came out from behind the half wall, dressed, and glared at the both of them. She wasn't really pretty but had huge breasts. Diylan was way too predictable. She left the room in a huff, slamming the door after her. "You sure know how to pick 'em Diylan," Spayar called.

"She's not my wife, so why should I care?" he called back and Spayar heard leather moving against itself.

"She could have been," Von said, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.

Diylan came out from his bedroom, "Please. I might be easy but I know how to keep myself sonless if at all possible."

Von looked him up and down, "Quite a thing that. A flighter who doesn't want a son. You sure you're a Drake?" he asked.

"Children are horrendous little monsters. I'll gladly save myself the trouble of ever having one," Diylan made a face and finished buckling his thigh length flak jacket before falling into the remaining chair gracelessly. "So, what do you two want? You didn't come all the way from Assarus for a personal call. If you had I would have gotten a letter demanding I come to the capital," and Von smiled a little. At the very least Von didn't make friends with idiots, say what you wanted about their habits in bed.

"One is I need to speak to the Wyrm Lord-

"Good luck with that."

"It's important."

"Yeah, what about?" Diylan said and picked at his nails. "Jollen doesn't make idle chatter with princelings."

Von scowled at him, "A Conflict is coming. I am trying to get ahead of it," Von said.

Diylan stopped picking his nails and turned to Von. He put his elbows on his knees, face serious. "Come again, Gard?" Diylan said.

"I know you're not a fool, Diylan. I'm sure you've heard an inkling of a Conflict," Von said, "Teldin and Tallalsala and Dellin are also making preparations. Forces are being mustered. If I wasn't here one of them would be. Unless they have been?"

"No," Diylan said, "None of your siblings have come to the Wyrd."

"Good. Then I need to speak with Jollen."

"About what?"

"A mutually benefitting alliance for us," Von said.

Diylan leaned back in his chair, looking huge and menacing with his flak jacket and steely grey eyes save for the circles of pale green. Diylan was not a skilled fighter, instead his skills were in desk work, which he gladly did. Diylan was one of the apprentices of the Overseer and a potential successor. A man who obeyed only the Wyrm Lord they knew everything about everything in the Wyrd. As a junior overseer that meant Diylan knew more about everything than a normal flighter. "What did you plan?"

"I'll discuss that with Jollen-

"You will tell me," Diylan said. "The Wyrm Lord only meets with people who have been cleared by the overseers. Prince or not you are still a man."

Von scowled, "I want his assistance in my coup. For his cooperation I'm prepared to make all sorts of promises for when I'm Asuras."

Diylan looked at Von, then Spayar. "You know about this?" he asked Spayar. Spayar nodded. "Who else is on your side?"

"Galinsum, the Shade, praetor X'vazior and his army, as well as a smattering of lower lords."

Diylan appraised Spayar, "That's all?"

"So far," Spayar didn't mention the Rosalia. No need to start an argument.

"You're lying about someone," Diylan said, narrowing his eyes a bit, "You're a good liar Spayar I'll give you that but I'm supposed to tell the good liars from the bad ones. Who else have you gotten?"

Spayar thought quickly, who the hell could he say instead of the Rosalia? If the Drake knew Von was already friends with Helida not only would they not agree to joining with them but they might also get thrown out. "Lord Addling," Von said, and Spayar didn't look at him until Diylan did.

"Why would you omit Lord Addling?" Diylan asked.

"It's not official," Von said. "He has agreed to nothing, so we aren't counting his number, but we want him."

Diylan looked contemplative, steepling his fingers, and looked at Spayar again, Spayar made his face unreadable. "I'll get you a meeting with Jollen," he said.

"Thank you," Von said.

"Don't thank me yet. Jollen likes your mother. He might not take kindly to your proposition."

"How's your crop this year?" Von asked.

Diylan blinked slowly and looked suspicious, "Why do you want to know?"

"You know my mother isn't going to help you," Von said. "Trade is still regulated to the normal limits on importation across our borders. Your oranges looked lackluster this year. I've heard from other cities that their harvests are so bad they'll have to ration it this winter if they want get food imported in the quantity they need. My mother needs to die, the sooner, the better, for the entire Alliance. If I don't do it my siblings will. We won't let our people starve because of our mother."

Diylan gave him a look, "... You have a point," he conceded. "Was that all you came to the Wyrd for?" he asked.

"Haven't seen you in a year or so," Spayar put in.

"Well, two years on you," Diylan said to Spayar.

"I was serving time."

"And you didn't even write. How rude," and Spayar laughed.

"I wasn't going to waste ink on you," Spayar said.

"That hurts junior."

"Hurts what? That icy thing in your chest you call a heart?"

"I'll have you know my heart is the only thing that is icy," Diylan gave him a look.

"Ahg! Stooop," Von cried and covered his eyes. "Anceion's gaze above, please stop flirting," he said miserably.

Spayar and Diylan laughed, "I think your little princeling needs a taste of what its like," Diylan said.

"What? What what's like?" Von demanded.

"He's really rather stupid sometimes isn't he?" Diylan asked Spayar.

"He’s still got his virtue what do you expect?” he teased Von a bit.

“Spayar!” Von cried, a flush high in his cheeks.

"What?" Spayar asked him, grinning, sometimes it was too much fun to have a laugh at Von's expense, especially with Diylan around. It was, effectively, like having two of them around and while sometimes Diylan annoyed the hell out of Spayar they were very alike and both of them knew how to poke Von without actually pissing him off. Von frowned deeply at him.

"And what I meant was," Diylan continued, having the decency to at least not laugh, "that Spayar has to suffer through all your flirting, I don't see why you can't suffer through his," Spayar gave Diylan a dark look for that. Spayar wasn't sure if most people were just stupid or obvious but of their friends Diylan was one of the only ones who really noticed Spayar had a thing for their prince. It would be just less painful for everyone if Von didn't know though since he'd make it weird and awkward. "Unless, you know," Diylan quirked his head at Von, "you're some sort of homophobe."

Spayar barely reacted fast enough to grab Von's arm when he lurched out of his seat. Diylan jerked back, pressing into the back of chair when Von stood up and looked ready to strike him across the face. "I can take a lot Diylan," Von said, voice hard "But don't ever insult me like that again," and he tugged his arm out of Spayar's grip. "Now go get me that meeting with Jollen," he ordered. Diylan swallowed a little, looked over at Spayar and then got out of his seat. He'd never seen Diylan slink in his life, but Diylan positively slithered out of the room, just to get away from Von.

"Von-

"Can you believe him?" Von cried once Diylan was gone and turned to Spayar. "Accuse me of being that. You're my best friend," his voice quieted quickly after his initial outburst. Spayar just looked up at him, honestly he didn't know what to think himself. Diylan had been pretty out of hand there. "And I don't care who the hell you, or anyone takes to their bed. But by the gods there is nothing worse than watching Diylan flirt because he's a slimy creep when he does it."

Spayar grinned a little, "I'll agree with you on that," he said.

“That's the part I forgot with him,” he sighed. “He's better not doing that.” Von looked contemplative for a moment, "You-" he paused, hesitant. "Would you? With him?" he asked awkwardly.

"Uh..." Spayar said, "No, he's not really my type.”

Von deflated a little, "Okay," and he sat down abruptly.

"You alright Von?" Spayar asked him.

Von looked at him, "I just... don't think you should sell yourself short. You're too good for him."

Spayar laughed a little, "Von, the last thing you need to be worried about is my love life-

"Well I do! Sometimes," he hunched a little, "I just want you to find someone who makes you happy," and Spayar was so stunned he couldn't speak. "You don't really... like anyone and sometimes I get concerned."

"Neither do you," he pointed out.

"I'm a prince," Von said, "and... too young right now to think about that," he swallowed. "No one wants to be with a prince.” Everyone attached to princes or princess were usually cast aside after the coups, the ones who didn't die fighting for their prince or princess usually never dealt with politics again, or went near the capitals. It was better, because they would never bend to another Asuras . Some of them went to a temple of Lemp in their grief and shame to be brought to the Shadow Lands. "You could still be something without me," Von said.

"No," Spayar said, "I couldn't. Because if you go to the Shadowed Lands I'd be in front of you. Because to get to you, they'd have to get through me first," Spayar said in a hard tone. He wasn't fooling around. Whoever wanted to kill Von would have to kill him first, because he wouldn't let any harm come to him so long as he drew breath.

Von sighed, "Thanks," he said quietly, not smiling but looking at Spayar gratefully. 

—

When the Wyrm Lord agreed to see them Spayar was cautious. Of course he was. It was no secret that Jollen liked Virilia, and at least thought her competent, or perhaps more he thought her benefitting. He was waiting for them in his office but didn't stand when Von entered. He had one of the few views in the entire Wyrd with his office having an open air window to the volcano cone.

"Your highness," Jollen said when Von stood before his desk. There were no chairs, everyone who came here was expected to stand.

"Wyrm Lord, I trust your fairing well-

"I didn't agree to a meeting of pleasantries, boy," Jollen said harshly. "I am a busy man with a busy house and many things to do. Get to what you want and then you may be on your way."

Von swallowed, he hadn't been expecting Jollen to be so harsh. The man was like a wolf, his hair a shimmering silver with black shot through it and his eyes ice blue inside black scleras. Every feature on him was sharp and lean and he didn't have a scrap of fat on him. Sitting down he didn't look too big but like most flighters Jollen not only reached six foot, he exceeded it by far. "I'm sure you can hazard a guess why I'm here," Von said.

"The same reason Dellin wanted to speak with me."

"Dellin's here?"

"No. But he tried to speak with me regardless. Then he insulted me and made me very upset."

What was with the Le'Acard children and pissing off noble houses lately? Spayar didn't understand. They should know better, but it seemed like all they were doing was misstepping. He hoped Von didn't misstep. Spayar also wasn't sure Jollen wasn't lying. Diylan said no other princes had come through here. Unless it was earlier. Or maybe Diylan didn't know. "I'm not my brother," Von said.

"Well I certainly hope so," Jollen said, leaning back in his chair and folding his fingers together.

"Do you like my mother, Jollen?"

"She has her uses," Jollen said.

 "And what are those?"

Jollen smiled a small, wolf, smile, "That would be between me and the Asuras, your highness."

"I want your help Jollen," Von said, "You're not stupid, I would never accuse you of that. You know why I'm here and what I want from you."

"The Drake are not interested," Jollen said.

"I can offer you things Jollen," Von said.

"And what when you die, little princeling?" he asked. "I was a boy when your mother took the throne and I saw what siding with the wrong side did to my father, to my house. My father sided with her brother-

"Who should have been Asuras and you know it," Von said.

"Of course he should have,” it came out as a snarl. “Only the weak take the leftovers. But your mother is Asuras now. I like your mother, because she is weak. The Drake offer nothing in these schemes. We want, nothing."

Von bit his lips, he sucked his teeth a moment in thought and then said, "Not even be on the same field as the Rosalia?" he asked.

"What do those bitches in the west have anything to do with it?" Jollen growled.

"Helida is on my side," Von said. "She doesn't back the weak either. When I win she'll have played a valuable role in helping me claim my throne. Do you want to be cut out by them?" he asked.

Jollen's eyes narrowed, "Tell that slut of Lemp to go to do us all a favor and kill herself,” Jollen said.

"I'll be sure to. And maybe when she retaliates against such slander I'll just... look the other way," he turned his head a bit like he was thoughtlessly averting his eyes.

"Are you threatening me, boy?" Jollen asked.

"Of course not, Jollen," Von said. "But when I am Asuras it will be Helida with me. I've never known a Drake to let a necromancer get one up on them," he said and Spayar didn't look at Von, though he wanted to. Von was out of his mind right now. He'd just threatened Jollen, one of the most powerful men in the Alliance. And he was baiting the man. Not even Densinn’s influence would have made Spayar say something so wreckless. Right? He was starting to regret asking Densinn to pay attention to him. Jollen wouldn't hurt Von but Spayar was a commoner despite his position as d'aelar and easy pickings for a Governor. "You've been rough on the Rosalia since my mother decided she liked you better than them. I doubt Helida has forgotten, or that she'll be kind in her retaliation."

"You'd threaten me with civil war?" Jollen said.

"Unlike you, Jollen, my accenion is not given to me in the Book of Bloods. I don't plan on dying," Von said cooly, "I am not my siblings. I am Vondugard Le'Acard and let me tell you; I live up to my name," now Jollen swallowed. The hero of old, Vondugard, had been Archon and personally led every battle of the Asuras that had claimed most of the eastern provinces. He'd been relentless, ferocious and showed no mercy to his enemies. Most eastern provinces, like Dodorum where the Wyrd resided, had many tales of Vondugard both good and had. "You are either with me, Jollen, or you are against me. Which is it so I know if I need to keep wasting my time in this tiny province out in the middle of nowhere. If so, when I'm Asuras you can stay here and rot for all I care. So what is it Jollen?"

Jollen stared angrily at Von, "If I join you I want assurances," Jollen said.

"Name them."

"We'll think about them," Jollen said. "When the time comes you'll have your answer. In the meantime I want you out of my Wyrd."

"Fine. I want one of your flighters to accompany me home," Von said, Jollen's eyes narrowed.

"Fine I'll assign-

"I want Diylan Rastin," Von said, "a junior overseer, you won't miss him."

Jollen's mouth went thin. "Fine," he said through grit teeth. "He will be ordered to stay out of the affairs of the Le'Acard," though Spayar knew Jollen saw what Von was giving him. With Diylan with them he'd have a constant eye and ear on Von to report his doings, and Von would gain a protection of a flighter. Diylan wasn't a good fighter, but most people didn't know that, all they'd see was a flighter, a warrior mounted on wyrm-back, standing at Von's back. "Take him and get out of my Wyrd."

"We'll be in touch Jollen, I'm sure," Von bowed a little to him. Spayar was caught off guard enough do that as well. Then Von turned on his heel and walked out. Spayar took one last glance at Jollen and then followed after his prince.

"Have you lost your mind?" Spayar hissed once they were outside Jollen's office and headed for the offices of the Overseer.

"I got what I wanted," Von said dismissively. "I don't care if Jollen does or doesn't back me," Spayar grabbed Von's arm.

"Excuse me?" he asked, turning Von to him. He lowered his voice, "You don't care?"

"I wanted Diylan, that was all. And I wanted Jollen to know that he'd better start picking sides. The Drake can't afford to be bipartisan," Von said quietly.

"And you thought the best way to do that would be to piss him off?" Spayar rubbed his forehead.

"He told me everything I needed to know, and got me Diylan. Everything went exactly as planned," Von said, pleased with himself and started to walk towards the Overseer office.

"Yeah, plan you didn't tell me," Spayar said, watching him go but didn't follow.

Von stopped and turned back to Spayar, "I don't tell you everything Spayar. Just like you don't tell me everything."

"Not about this," Spayar hissed. "This is our lives. You tell me everything." Von was being unreasonable and just now he'd used Spayar as nothing more than a show of force. Jollen knew Spayar was d'aelar and despite saying nothing that entire time him just standing behind Von said enough. Spayar had never felt so used. Von was his friend but in that moment all he felt like was a prince’s primary vassal. He didn't like it at all.

Von looked at Spayar, "I do what I have to." Spayar glared after Von as he continued towards the Overseers offices. "Come along Spayar, we need to tell Diylan the good news." The words from his mouth didn't even sound like his friend. Either he was just barely keeping it together or instead of Spayar Densinn had indeed decided the best way to pay attention to Spayar was through Von. Neither option was pleasant and it didn't make him feel better either.

Spayar grit his teeth and followed after Von because he was too good a friend to keep this up. And what else could he do? Nothing.  "And what's that?"

"That he gets to go to Assarus, and," he added this with a devious look, "he gets to go to my sister's naming day," he grinned a little. "If we're lucky he'll get into her bed and give her some vinerial disease-

"Von please, have some class," Spayar sighed. "She's more likely to give him one," and Von had to cover his mouth so he didn't laugh too loudly.

[afroarmy94]

Breaking the Rules (m)

Summary: cliche idol au where the boys notice you and it devolves to sinnnn

• "You look so delicious sweetheart that we're doing our best not to eat you up right this instance. Don't test our patience with your adorable pouting because once we're done with you you'll see just how sure we are about our choice." •

Pairing: ot7 x reader

Warnings: pure smut, maybe a hint of like fluffy possessiveness??, some JiHope, it’s an orgy so yeah

Word count: 2.6k

a/n: I’m a terrible tumblr user so maybe check out my ao3: afrohexe. But I want to learn how to format fics better on here! Also this is my first x reader fanfic and I’m super nervoussss. Leave and comments or suggestions!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Standing outside of the concert hall you find yourself almost unable to handle the fact that you're going to see these boys live and not just through your phone screen at ungodly hours of the night.

Time seems to pass too fast and too slow at the same time and before you know it you were already standing in front of the stage. (sorry not sorry to all the other army you pushed out of the way to get there).

Finally, they're there and you're losing your mind. A few songs in you bless your size for being able to barrel you next to the stage because you swear that you've made eye contact with the members multiple times. Knowing that thousands of people have done it before, you pull out your phone just needing to capture what must be a once in a life experience because who will believe you about all this eye contact?? So, you sneak your phone out for a mini video during Joon's part in Mic Drop. His eyes were literally on you till he accidentally tripped and you couldn't believe that you caught such a cute moment on your device!

Thinking nothing of it you put your phone away satisfied. After the mic drop performance they have a mini break where they show small videos on the large screens and as you coo at how cute they are suddenly you feel a firm hand on your shoulder. Thinking it’s another concert goer you shrug them off, but they pull on you and you see that it’s actually a security guard. Your blood runs cold knowing that this could only mean one thing. BigHit did warn everyone that they were enforcing security this year but based on all the fancams you still saw you thought you could get away with it... apparently you were wrong.

You feel your heart drop to the floor as he guides you out of the crowd, you try not to cry as you feel the shame of people staring. The guard ends up bringing you to a room in the concert hall and tells you not to leave till the end of the concert. Finally, alone with your own thoughts you can't stop the tears from falling. You were at least thankful that it was towards the end of the concert and that you wouldn't miss out too much but still not seeing the full concert was heart wrenching.

You don't know how much time has passed when you hear "Are you the little trouble maker? "

You can't believe your eyes when they meet Joon's without a stage separating you. You start blabbering your apologies when he says, " It's alright Y/N we dont mind"

"we?" and then before you can wrap your mind around the fact that he said your name, from behind him come the rest of Bangtan. That was enough for you to start seeing spots and then everything went black.

You feel your head swimming and light piercing your eyes. Maybe you should have stocked up on more sugar before waiting in line for hours, because the hallucinations you were having were so life like. You swear you hear the deep rumble of Jeon Jungkook's voice and either your years of Korean classes were going down the drain or he was actually complaining to his hyungs about how good you smell.

"If you couldn't handle sitting next to her than you shouldn't have pushed us all away Guk" said someone with a tinkling laugh. You feel the body next to you warm up as if the blush has traveled in equal amounts to his embarrassment. And it was this warmth that prompted you to let the dream wash over you and just snuggle into it. Before your world becomes quiet again you hear a gasp followed with a laughter from far away.

As you slowly wake up from the most realistic dream you've ever had about the boys you find your surroundings definitely not being the hotel room you had rented with your limited funds. You start to sit up and see someone in the corner of the room, before you could scream though you recognize the very very familiar face. "H-Hoseok?"

He smiles at you and asks if you're feeling better. All you can do is nod cause you're at a complete loss for words.

"We had to bring you back to our hotel because we couldn't find who you were with, I hope that's okay. We didn't want to leave you at the mercy of our staff," he laughs.

"Oh my god I'm so so sorry about breaking the rules, do you think they'll sue me?? I'll be forbidden to ever attend another concert and I’ll be broke and live on the stree-" he cuts off your rambling with a finger on your mouth. "Shh Y/N it won't be that bad, I'm sure they'll see how sorry you are."

You know these words were meant to comfort you but the look in his eyes did the exact opposite. His fingers move from your mouth down your jaw, and you stay completely still, letting him basically trace your whole face with his hands.

"You're an obedient one aren't you," he purrs. You're surprised your eyes remain in their sockets and that you don't choke on your own saliva because surely he can't be saying what you think. "I know I'm supposed to wait for the others but surely a kiss wouldn't hurt, I'm sure you want to show how sorry you really are right?" You just nod not knowing if he was serious or not. "Use your words, baby."

And before you can even think you're mouth starts moving, "Yes, I want to show you how sorry I am."

"I told you she'd be perfect"

You almost jump three feet in the air when you hear the voice of Namjoon coming into the room. Hoseok looks less than happy with the interruption. "I was just getting to the good part Joooon."

"Not without us you aren't hyung," says Jungkook entering the room as well. You have no control over your face as the members come in one by one, but you know you must be a sight by the way they giggle when they see you.

"She is perfect hyung, look at the way she almost let Hobi-hyung kiss her right away," observes Taehyung and Jimin nods enthusiastically beside him.

Namjoon sits down on the hotel bed next to you and begins to explain, "You see baby I have a talent for judging people from sight, it makes me a good leader as well. And when I saw you shyly trying to film me I knew it wasn't to post on twitter but just for yourself, but I couldn't help but notice that you were filming during quite a risqué scene huh?" You nod shyly " Don't be embarrassed baby girl, you're going to be perfect company for us, we love an angel with a dark side to her."

They must believe you've lost your voice at this point because you're pretty sure you haven't said a single word this whole time since they've all stepped into the room.

"So Princess, would you do the honor of spending a night with us?" This voice comes from Yoongi who's otherwise been standing off to the side quietly observing but the look in his eyes makes it seem like he's really really hoping for this and how could you ever say no to your favorite honey boy.

"Yes, I'd love to spend a night with all of you b-but are you sure me? I'm not tall or thin or especially pretty??" You can't believe you're actually about to ruin this moment with your insecurity but as you gaze down to your ample chest and tum, seeing your thighs pancake as you sit, you can’t help but think it's all a joke. As you look back up you notice that they followed your line of sight. The look in their eyes were so dark you didn't know if you had angered them by making them realize what you actually look like or what.

Jin makes his way behind you placing his hands on your shoulders, "You look so delicious sweetheart that we're doing our best not to eat you up right this instance. Don't test our patience with your adorable pouting because once we're done with you you'll see just how sure we are about our choice."

"So will you let us show you why we chose you? Make sure to use your words so we know."

"Y-yes, please show me."

As you say this Jin reaches in front of you to take off your shirt leaving you in your bra and shorts. You try to cover your stomach but before you can Taehyung reaches and stops you. "Don't hide from us little one, we want to see all of you."

"It's all I could think about when performing" comments Jungkook. The others nod in agreements and you let them start stripping you. There's hands everywhere on you at once pushing you down into the bed and it finally clicks in your head what's happening. As soon as it does you start to feel how unconsciously wet you had already gotten. You notice that Jin is still behind you but now underneath you and you begin to complain about how heavy you are, but he says he wants to feel you on top of him. He tells you how soft your curves are and how he wants to take his time exploring you.

You feel a tickle in your inner thigh. "Look at you dirty girl, were you this wet watching us perform too? Hmmm were you going to stroke this beautiful pussy once you got home tonight?" Jimin seems to be talking to himself more than to you as he tentatively licks your folds. "Oh my fuck, you have to taste her." You had never been confident about your taste but as Jungkook leans in to take a taste as well and hums in appreciation you let out a shameless moan. This seems to be all the consent the rest need to pounce.

Yoongi is asking if he can enter your mouth and as you drool and nod he slips his member in. "F-fuck, her mouth feels so good. I knew your lips would be perfect around my cock baby."

You hear a whine from Tae and you try to give him attention as well, switching between him and Yoongi.

Jin is still underneath you wrapping himself around you and massaging your chest. "Look how they spill out of my palms, you were meant for this weren't you sweetheart. Joon come and fuck our sweetheart's perfect tits." You hear a groan and Joon comes above you to do exactly that. He grabs your breasts and smears his precum on them making them smooth for him to glide in between. This along with Jin pinching your nipples lets you know your chest is going to be sore days later.

"I need to feel her hyungs," whines Jungkook. And before you can register where he wants to feel you, there’s a tentative brush of his hardness against your folds. You're almost ashamed of how soaking you must be. Taking a breath from servicing Tae and Yoongi you plead with Jungkook to enter you. He does so in one thrust and because of how much stimulation you've been getting, you cum from that alone. "Holy shit she's so f-fucking tight. Did you come all over my cock baby? Does it feel that good?" You can do nothing but cry as the aftershocks hit you. Thankfully he waits till you come down to start thrusting. "O-oh my god Jungkook you feel so good." You can't believe how full you feel, your vibrators being nothing compared to this. You hear skin smacking but not just from you and look over to see Hoseok mounting Jimin as they watch you get destroyed by the other boys. They notice you looking and Hoseok smirks, "Don't worry princess, we'll take care of you later as well." Jimin is close enough that you can grab his length in his hand and start pumping him. He lets out a gasp, "You’re such a greedy girl aren't you baby? Does it turn you on to see what you do to us? I can't even wait to be in you later." It's amazing how dominant Jimin still is even while bottoming.

You feel Tae and Yoongi rubbing themselves on your cheek trying to get your attention again. Before you take them back into your mouths you hear Jin ask you something from underneath you. " Think you can handle me in this perfect ass baby hm? Have you had anything in your ass before?" When you say yes, he laughs calling you a dirty angel and starts rubbing himself against your hole before he starts entering. Once he's full seated inside you feel like you might explode from all the sensation.

Jungkook always being competitive won't let you forget him (though you never could anyway) and he starts thrusting deep and hard in time with Jin.

The room is filled with such lewd sounds you're hoping that no one walks by. You are drooling all over Tae and Yoongi's cocks. While you masturbate Jimin who's being plowed by Hoseok. Joon on top of you using your breasts as he pleases. While Jin and Jungkook are inside of you and you swear they're rearranging your insides.

You're about to cum a second time and as you voice this you hear the others grunt in unison, and as the perfectly synchronized group they are you all cum at once and you see stars for the second time this night but this time you recover much quicker. Seeing the boy's faces as they orgasm will be forever imprinted on your mind and you don't even mind the mess they make on you.

You all lie there for a minute just allowing the bliss to wash over you. As Jin and Jungkook slide out of you and Joon grabs a towel to clean you up with. Once your clean you try to reach down to grab your underwear but Hoseok stops you. "When I said that I was going to be inside you later I meant it. You're not going anywhere for the night." Yoongi comes up from behind you and says into your neck, "Actually can you not go anywhere ever cause I haven’t come that hard in a long time and if that was just from your mouth I can't wait to see what your pussy can do."

As you look around you see that everyone is nodding in agreement. "You all want me to like...stay stay with you?"

"I know this must sound like the orgasm talking but baby girl that was an amazing time, I knew you'd be able to handle all of us with this sinful body of yours. If you'll have us we'd love for this to not be a one time thing." Joon's deep breaths lets you know that he's definitely serious about this.

"Hmmm but I think I already paid more than enough for my crime." Their faces fall and as you giggle they get confused. Even though you are super shy you're super sexually open and maybe also a little bratty. So, to see that they'd think you would refuse them was too good an opportunity to pass up. Before Joon can come up with a counter argument you shush him.

"I think the real question here is if you can handle me.... Daddy."

The air becomes still, and you fear that maybe you messed up with that certain kink. But before you can apologize, you see them all hard again. This time there is no hesitation to touch and kiss you as hard as they want. As you feel two of them try to enter you at once this time you realize that maybe you bit off more than you can chew...

[parvummalum07]

Inky paths of life 01

First post on Tumblr. Well. I am not a native English speaker so I Really don’t know whether or not I should use simple present tense when my characters are thinking...So, sorry if my shit grammar and very limited vocabulary bother you.

Soulmate AU; John POV; most likely bad ending and major character death. I hope I would actually finish this one hahahaha...

I don’t own these people; they own me, in some way or another. God bless the Beatles.

Nothing is real and nothing is to hung about.

He knew they would come in one way or another; suddenly or slowly, sometimes just under one’s eyes. So it didn’t surprise him that his word chose to came in the most unattractive and mediocre way: it appeared in his dream, without him noticing. And it also didn’t surprise him that it chose to appear across his waist, the position most people have their words. Mediocre, indeed; even its context was rather boring, because there was only one word instead of a sentence that people usually have and really, what kind of boring lover would make the last word she would say to him Johnny? Wouldn’t that unknown person choose to leave a more charming, more romantic remark on her own death?

 Wouldn’t his lover be different than those idiots who would actually call the names of their soulmates when they die?

 Yes, the fucking fate whispered in his ears, I did chose such an unpleasant soulmate for you, because why not? He brushed these dark thoughts away with a sneering bark, but in the dead of night, when he finally got rid of Mimi’s endless remarks on that ‘special person’, and had to face the darkness alone, such thoughts crept up to his spine, leaving an icy trace between his shoulder blades. You are just an ordinary human being, this disembodied voice said to him, just a boy that nobody loves. Your dad left you, your mom left you, no one at school likes you, you are the troublemaker and the stupid one, failing your courses all the time. So why an interesting soulmate?

 And deep down inside, he agreed. Maybe John Lennon doesn’t deserve a unique soulmate, and that’s OK. But still, a part of himself thought of his word as a……sign? Maybe a prophecy? Deep down there was a kind of hope shining like twilight: at least, for now, he surely has a soulmate……he had heard about illnesses—and sometimes, the lack of love—which would deprive a person from having a mark at the age of 15; at least he didn’t belong to them. Maybe, just maybe, there was a soulmate—probably a good-looking one—must be a good-looking one, come on! –right there, waiting for John, and she would love him no matter what.

 Maybe.

   The first time he felt like meeting a soulmate, he realized later on, was the time he met Paul. Of course he didn’t know how it feels, but that was the closest ever feeling compared to his imagination. The earth would not stop turning, there wouldn’t be blinding light flashing everywhere……but there was definitely something going on. Sparks flying. The first time he ever saw that Elvis-looking boy walking into that church, he thought: holy shit.

 Not a decent thing to say in a church, he knew, but still. The scene was shocking.

 Technically speaking it wasn’t the first time he met Paul because he had seen him, had met him on the bus for several times, had saw him waving to the girls alongside the window, smiling as if surprised and embarrassed by the admiration from the other gender. He regarded this gesture as phony, for what kind of girls wouldn’t fall for his looks, with those cherubic cheeks and doe eyes? He knew some guys who would howl at these pair of eyebrows as well; sex appeals, it seems, are not so mutually exclusive. Later on he would alter this belief, admitting that yes, that little Elvis really didn’t expect such attraction, but at that time the stranger on the bus seemed to be the exact kind of people he would normally hate at first sight.

 Except that he wasn’t. That warm voice of his certainly mastered Twenty flight rock well, but the real surprise fell when Elvis and Little Richard came ringing in the hall. John was immediately attracted by that person, and all of a sudden, the world was making a lot more senses to him. It was truly breathtaking.

 “What was your name again?” he asked after the show-off, trying hard to bury his excitement under a cool mask, and that boy smiled triumphantly.

 “Paul,” he responded, his fingertips sliding down the white keys elegantly, “Paul McCartney.”

   Paul, as far as he knew, was the only one who didn’t show around his own words. This wasn’t usually what a Scouse teenager do within the age hierarchy, for you simply highlight your authority to people younger than you by showing off your words. At first he thought that was because his marks were buried deep in his clothes, on a position where only intimate families could see, but later on, when being asked by a mutual friend of theirs, he laughed and explained.

 “I just don’t do it,” he said lightly to Ivan, after a quite successful gig, when everyone around them were drinking and laughing heavily, “not because it is hard to show or something—God bless those who have their word on their butt—but because I simply don’t want to.”

 “How come?” Pete yelled from afar, his booming voice echoing in the unbearable din. Everyone in the pub began yelling to each other, and John was suddenly very, very angry for the fact that the music was on, so fucking loud that if Paul chose this moment to give Ivan a private answer, he wouldn’t be able to know what he had spoken. But Paul simply smiled; he shook his head fondly and leaned on the bar counter, flying John a glance as he shouted out his order to a rather pissed-looking barman.

 “Weird, isn’t he?” Ivan commented, and he hummed his agreement absent-mindedly, watching the dark-haired boy leaning closer to the bar, a flash of sweaty pale skin appearing under his shirt. His mouth suddenly turned very, very dry.

   They didn’t touch upon this topic until much later, when John was sobbing uncontrollably in Paul’s arms, his attempts at speaking failing pathetically because of erupting hiccups and gasps. The pain of losing Julia was suddenly too intense to endure, he didn’t want that part of himself unveiled in front of Paul, but Paul stuck to him, faced his ferocious burst of anger without a blink of his eye, and finally, finally, John allowed himself to collapse under the embrace of the younger boy, his body limp yet for the first time in days relieved. Paul didn’t mutter a single word, just held a death grip on the back of John’s open shirt, and strangely, that was just what John needed at the moment.

 Finally, after burying his nose in Paul’s neck for a long time—he could smell a faint odor of lavender from Paul’s skin, mixed up with sweat and a fresh scent he couldn’t tell, a scent so uniquely Paul’s—he could finally utter a full sentence without sounding teary.

 “How did you survive all that, Macca?” he whispered, “how did you……get used to…losing…her?”

 Paul inhaled deeply. He inhaled so deeply that John could feel his heart beating within his ribcage, under their closely pressed-together skin. “I didn’t,” after a long pause, he said, his beautiful eyes blank, “I couldn’t. You simply bleed and carry on, that’s all.”

 John breathed. In, out, in, out. So simple, yet so hard. Life is fragile, he suddenly realized, for he would be dead so easily if he simply stops doing this.

 “You don’t admire my dad, I know,” Paul whispered, his sound cracking a little at the end of each word, “but I truly respect him……for he could still carry on. It is a miracle he even survived; I couldn’t imagine……”

 He shuddered, and John suddenly knew.

 “Your mom and dad, they are soulmates, right?”

 He couldn’t see his face but he knew somehow that Paul closed his eyes. “He said to her the words when she……passed away.”

 There was a long silence. John would swear to God that he felt warm wetness sinking into the collar of his shirt, but when Paul spoke again, there was no trace of tears in his voice.

 “That was like a kind of fraud, isn’t it?” he commented, his voice fierce and vibrating with emotion, “Knowing a person’s words and say to him or her the exact sentence before that person dies? It……I don’t know how to put it……how the fuck could someone—anyone—believe that it is the end, it is the last time they……How can they be certain? How can they choose to do so? Isn’t it arrogant to assume themselves to be soulmates? Wasn’t it something that should be decided……not by people?”

 John let go of Paul’s shirt, sat up straight, studied him quite closely. He didn’t know where his glasses were, so he couldn’t tell whether Paul cried or not; but intense sorrow and yearning were erupting from under that girlishly handsome face, appearing and disappearing like flashes of shooting star. This bare, intimate display of his most ferocious emotions didn’t contort Paul’s features, but made him—impossibly—even more beautiful; he now held a face of a pained martyr or a constrained saint, a face that suddenly made John too awed to look at.

 “So this is why you didn’t show your marks to anyone, is it?” he whispered, “do you……not expect your wife or someone to be your soulmate?”

 He would never forget Paul’s tone when he answered that question. “I do,” he said calmly, “I just don’t want them to feel obliged to be my soulmate. That would be too heartbroken for them if I die first.”

   Stu held a different opinion. In fact, Stu held too many different opinions; he and Paul were like two ends of a magnet. But somehow, John found them disturbingly alike: both were sensitive and easy to fall into melancholy, both were mature beyond their own age, both were somehow timid when facing the girls, seemingly unaware of the charm and aura they carried around themselves. Stu, however, was built in much less strong material; John would say he was hesitant, unsure about his future and ambition, whereas Paul was nothing but the opposite.

 He never knew why all these conversations about soulmates or words took place inside dark damp gross-smelling pubs, but they did. One night in Hamburg they were hanging around, simply enjoying themselves, and this topic was brought up between large gulps of beer and rude laughter, in the dance hall filled with people so engaged in having fun that they didn’t even want to think about the future. The light was blinding, flashes of colors erupting like firework across people’s faces.

 “Why did you come to Germany anyway?” Someone, maybe Ringo, asked.

 Stu chuckled. He pulled the neck of his shirt, revealing a patch of milky pale skin. A sharp line of dark words was shining under a thin layer of sweat. “German,” he claimed, when people around him hooted and whistled, “you’d believe that it’s easier to find a bird speaking German here, mates.”

 He didn’t know why he brought that up, but: “Do you know Paul never show his marks to anyone?”

 Stu stared at him, then turned to Paul, who froze beside John’s arm. “Not even to you?” he asked suspiciously, taking in this piece of information with difficulty, “How come?”

 “It doesn’t matter,” Paul retorted, suddenly putting all his guards up like a hedgehog hiding his underbelly while facing an attack, “I just……don’t.”

 Stu swallowed. A sincere shade of unease flashed across his delicate features. “But……what if there’s some accident? What if your words are someone’s last words before an accident takes place? You’ve got to know them to prevent an accident, isn’t it? Life is very short, and there’s no time for you to hesitate.”

 They both jumped when Paul suddenly slammed his bottle of beer hard on the bar counter. “That isn’t my case, is it, Stu?” he sneered, “I’m not the one with these words on his chest. Enjoy the night, lads!”

 And in a swirl, he charged out of the pub. Stu and John stared at each other, while an icy atmosphere suddenly fell heavily in their small group of friends. Someone made a joke deliberately, and soon afterward, everyone was laughing again; the eye contact between them, however, didn’t break.

 “I apologize,” John said, a nasty scent of bitterness rising in his throat, “he was—”

 “No,” Stu answered, buttoning his shirt absent-mindedly, his eyes suddenly in tears, “no, I understand.”

 His fingertips brushed across these sharply written German, which, roughly translated into English, would be: Shit, Stu, what the fuck, don’t die, don’t—

TBC

[cincity-quinlan-fanfic-blog]

I haven’t posted any of my writing on tumblr, but here’s an extract from my latest chapter that I wanted to share. It’s a Quinlan flashback, and it isn’t really part of the main storyline. So if you haven’t been reading my fic, then you can still read this as a one-shot. And if you like what you read here, then please check out my fic :)

It was the late eighteen hundreds – Quinlan was walking through the slums of Whitechapel, London. It was a warm and misty night, and it had been raining for several days; the streets smelled like every rotten piece of garbage that filled the gutters, and the air carried the stench from the sewers. Quinlan stayed in the shadows, walking with his head down and hiding his face beneath the hood of his cloak. There were people out on the streets, too concerned with whatever debauchery they were engaged in to even notice him, and that was the way he preferred it. But then suddenly, a voice called out to him as he walked past.

“‘Ello luv… want some company?” said a sweet little voice.

Quinlan glanced up from the corner of his eye. The girl stood leaning against a wall on the side of the street, under a dim street lamp that made her red hair glow like fire. She was young… far too young… but old enough to be working the streets. Her body was already well endowed with the curves of a woman, which she flaunted with the low neck of her dress. Quinlan glanced away. “No,” he murmured in his deep voice – soft yet resonant… gentle, yet cold.

“I’m cheaper ‘an the other girls… and better too,” she smirked. “An’ if you’re worried 'bout diseases… I’m clean.”

Quinlan didn’t stop. He pulled his hood down further, veiling his face, and continued walking without looking up.

She started to walk after him. “Maybe women ain’t your taste,” she teased. “That’s alright… I’ve been with men who prefer other men. It’s all the same with the lights off.” When Quinlan didn’t respond to her provocation, she let out a huff of frustration. And as Quinlan picked up his pace, she did too, eager to follow. “Well… maybe you can spare a coin then…” she pleaded, her tone more desperate now. “Please… I ain’t got noffin’ left. Not even for food… Please… will you take pity on a whore?”

Quinlan stopped; he didn’t know why he stopped, but he did. He reached into his pocket and found a shilling, and enclosed his hand around the burning silver that branded his palm with the head of the queen. He took the coin out of his pocket and flicked it behind him without turning around. And then he continued on his way. The coin hit the pavement with a sharp ring, and rolled on its edges to a stop.

“Thank you!” he heard her calling after him. “You’re an angel! God bless you sir! I won’t ever forget you… God bless…” She faded away behind him, and she became nothing more than a face he would soon forget.

But then, three nights later, as he was walking down the same rotten alleyway, at the same godless hour of the night, he saw her again, standing under the same street lamp, hair glowing red. Immediately, she recognized the hooded figure and she excitedly pushed herself off the wall she was leaning against.

“You…” she smiled. “You’re the one who gave me shilling… the angel sent from heaven…”

Again, Quinlan barely looked up, glancing at her from beneath his hood. “My sympathy is limited,” his low voice rumbled. “Do not expect such generosity again.”

“I don’t expect anything,” she said. “Life taught me that.” Quinlan’s steps slowed for a moment, and he almost turned back to look at her, but he stopped himself. “Are you sure you don’t want company?” her large blue eyes stared after him insistently. “Free of charge… for your kindness the other night…”

He would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t consider it… even for just a moment. To that day, he had never experienced physical pleasures beyond what he could do for himself, and he always wondered what it would be like to be cradled in the warmth of a woman… flesh against flesh… desire fueling desire. But what woman would ever covet a creature like him? There was only one, in the past, who had come close… many lifetimes ago – the one he would never talk about… the one whose name he would never say. She was the only one who had ever accepted him… loved him, even. However, she did not desire him, or any man for that matter, and so they never shared those intimacies… and it never mattered to him. But after her, no woman who ever saw what he was would come close to him again.

He stopped and glanced back at the redheaded whore, eyes like a hungry predator, veiled in the shadows. He wanted to take her, and she was offering him the opportunity… but for some reason, he didn’t take it that night. That night, he simply turned and kept walking.

One week later, on a particularly hot summer night, Quinlan had just fed, and yet he found himself ever so restless, as if his body ached with a hunger that he could not satisfy. So he went out into the night and he hunted and killed, and he drowned himself in the violence. But the more he tried to ignore the fire inside him, the stronger it burned. Then after he drained his last man for the night – some drunkard beating his child bloody with his fists – he found himself walking back to the same place… down the same alleyway. And there, he saw her again – beautiful and wild, and without any shame, as she stood in the middle of the street, huffing after a gentleman who was walking away hastily.

“Think you’re too good for a whore, ay? Well you’ll never know wot it’s like wif a real woman! I bet your wife jus’ lies there like a dead fish!”

As she was yelling after the man, Quinlan came up quietly behind her and put his hand over her mouth, pulling her tightly into his chest. She let out a muffled scream. “Shhh… don’t be afraid,” he whispered, a quiet viciousness in his voice. “You know who I am…” His eyes glanced down to the bare skin of her bosom, rising and falling with her heavy breaths. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, fueling the fire inside him. And when he felt her body relax, he removed his hand from her mouth.

“My angel…” she said, trying to turn around to look at him, but he held her firmly in place.

“Do not turn around,” he growled softly in her ear. “Now tell me, do you have somewhere we can go?”

“W… well yes…” she stammered. “My home is just around the corner. It’s not much of a place… as long as you don’t mind the rats and the…”

“Start walking,” he instructed. “And do not turn around.”

In the darkness of the room, Quinlan stood naked before her, and he watched as she removed the layers of her clothes. There was no sensuality in the way she did it, either because she thought he couldn’t see her in the dark, or because sensuality wasn’t what a whore offered. That night, as Quinlan climbed into her bed, he wasn’t nervous or uncertain, like how people often describe their first time. Instead, he felt vicious and ravenous. With his insecurities hidden by the darkness, he felt uninhibited, for the first time, and free to explore his urges to their utmost satisfaction… and that was probably a dangerous thing. He wasn’t gentle… he didn’t care enough to be gentle. He took her the way he wanted… the way his body desired. He held her beneath him, claws at her shoulders and pulling himself into her… grinding himself to ecstasy with little concern for her comfort. Though it was never his intention to hurt her; he was merely naïve to the pains he would inflict by simply letting his body do what it naturally wanted. He wouldn’t have known, and she never said a thing – it was her job not to. And when they were done, he paid her well with silver… and again, she called him an angel.

That summer, Quinlan went back to her on many sleepless nights, and each time, she greeted him cheerfully, like she was always delighted to see him. And much to Quinlan’s fondness, she quickly learned his silent requests – she would not turn around when he approached, and she would not ask to see his face. She also learned that he did not like to talk about himself, and so she filled those silent moments, before and afterwards, with talks of whatever trivial things came to her mind. Most men had no interest in hearing a whore’s meaningless words, but Quinlan enjoyed listening to her speak, as she was the only person who spoke to him; the only voice that kept him company through those lonely nights. He found that the times he spent with her were the only times, during that part of his life, that he did not feel alone and invisible to the world… and that he did not have to hide himself or what he was. In her, he found comfort and solace… and perhaps even acceptance. Soon, those few hours he’d spend with her became the only thing he had to look forward to. Company paid in silver… but company none the less. And beyond anything physical he desired, she was kind to him, and for that he was grateful.

Then summer came to an end, and the streets grew quieter at night. The women were not getting as many customers, and so they often gathered together on the street, laughing and talking, drunk and boisterous. One night, when Quinlan went to find her again, he saw her standing with two other women in the doorway of an old Irish inn. They were talking loudly and excitedly, and he could hear them quite clearly from across the road. He stood in the shadows and listened.

“It’s him, I tell ya… he’s the Ripper! Always comes to me with his face hidden and tells me to turn off all the lights. I never seen his face… but he has all these horrible scars all over his body… I can feel them. Ugh! It’s disgusting! And he has no hair at all!”

“Wot? On his head?”

“Anywhere!”

The women laughed and giggled.

“Just as well he prefers the dark,” she continued, “I can’t imagine wot I’d do if I had to look at him!”

“Sounds just like the kind of monster you’d imagine the Ripper to be!” the older woman with a boorish voice remarked.

“Wot you gonna do if he comes back?” the younger girl asked, appearing genuinely frightened.

“I don’t know,” she said. “A whore’s got'a eat, you know. He pays me well…” she paused, and a smirk spread across her face. “And he’s got a big cock!”

The women burst out laughing, squealing loudly and stamping their feet.

“He sounds like a beast!”

“Does he fook like a beast?” the boorish whore wasted no time to ask.

“How d'ya think I got these?” she pulled down her shawl to reveal the deep red marks on her neck from Quinlan’s teeth, and then turned around to show the scratches on her back, marking her body with bloody lines of broken skin.

“Bloody hell! He did that to you?!”

“Yes, and these…” she said, pulling up her sleeves to show her bruised wrists, where he had gripped her so tightly that the marks of his fingers could be seen in black and blue shapes on her skin. At that moment, Quinlan lowered his eyes – his heart turned to frost as he realized, once and for all, that he was truly a monster, and he had no place in this world.

The women’s conversation continued, but Quinlan could only hear it vaguely now, like an echo in the back of his head, as his mind became clouded and he stood in a daze.

“Good God, Mary… I can’t believe you’re fooking Jack the Ripper!”

“Well he 'asn’t killed me yet…”

“Maybe he likes ya!”

“Oh that’s gross, Mabel! Don’t say that!”

The women laughed and giggled until their voices faded, and Quinlan walked away quietly, not once looking back.

After that night, he never went back to see her again. He left London for Birmingham the next day, and he let himself forget she ever existed. He walked the streets… he hunted… he fed… and he found other whores who were willing to take a faceless man for a pretty penny. And all those women were faceless to him. He made sure he never went back to the same woman more than once. He learned that his carnal needs were the only thing he could seek to satisfy, and so he did… without pleasure and without guilt. By then, he had long forgotten about his nights in London. It wasn’t until two years later, when he was walking past a newsstand one day, that a picture of her face would catch him like a dagger in the heart. He picked up the paper and read that Jack the Ripper had claimed another victim in Whitechapel – a young redheaded woman by the name of Mary Jane Kelly. Quinlan stared down at the paper for the longest time – void of any thoughts, and void of any feelings… as if his heart was nothing but a gaping black hole. He remembered thinking that he should feel something… but he simply didn’t. He put down the paper and continued on his way, with one hand in his pocket, wrapped around a silver shilling as it burned into his skin… and that pain was the only thing he could feel.

[evanpaulknapp]

Quarantine

I’m out on the patio right now. It’s quite relaxing. Just had some iced coffee.

I’ve been staring at a lot of screens as of late but this computer screen is larger than my phone screen so that’s somehow refreshing.

Tumblr, my old friend. I never did actually use you in the way that you’re supposed to be used.

Can’t believe I’ve been in LA for over a year now, it still feels like it’s only been a month.

Quarantine is a bittersweet kind of thing. It’s such a terrible thing for some people but it’s really been a blessing for me. I’ve been thriving...

I’ve put out a few songs and I plan to get another one out this week. My EP is basically recorded, just have to get vocals down. I also sent out a song to get mixed professionally.

My head has kind of been in a bunch with music for the last year or so and I feel like this time has given me a lot of perspective. I’m not sure if perspective is actually the word I’m looking for... it’s like, I would go back and forth with how I want to release things/what songs I want to release. I’ve been a pretty big Alec Benjamin fan for a while now (actually got to meet him at the Den on Sunset in October!) and I was always jealous with all of the demos on his YouTube. So I would go back and forth between wanting to get all my shit out there versus really polishing shit up for Spotify or whatever and trying to do all of the producing/mixing/mastering myself... it’s like, we totally live in the DIY age, but at some point you have to have a limit with what you’re NOT going to do because there’s just not enough time to be great at everything. And I enjoy producing and I love songwriting, so I think that’s where I’m going to focus my efforts and outsource the mixing/mastering to people who actually know how to do it.

So that’s been a pretty big revelation for me. I lost a bunch of cracked plugins that my friend got for me in November I think, and I was on a decent roll back then, but I let that loss prevent me from keeping forward because I felt like I didn’t sound good without certain plugins. So I’m finally getting over that. I’m getting over how my voice sounds too. I’m even starting to visualize the next project after Gray, and that’s so exciting to me even though so much work still needs to be done for it. And this sounds crazy, even just to myself, but I want to get both projects out this year. This is my catch up year.

I’ve also gone forth and back with what I want to do for Gray. Which songs are best vs. how people actually listen to music these days. I think I’m going to do only 4 songs, and have another 5 or so songs be demos for a deluxe edition kinda thing (even though most of those demos will probably be out before the actual EP). I was just gonna do stripped down acoustic versions of the other 5 songs but one thing led to another... my equipment doesn’t really call for me sounding that good stripped back like that, oddly enough. And I can always use the practice to get better and producing. I kind of don’t like the word ‘produce’. It doesn’t make any sense and it sounds cooler than what it actually is. 

That’s what was really hard for me (was and has been, I suppose) with producing, is I always felt like the instruments I’ve spent years trying to get good at (guitar, bass, vocals) sound like shit compared to midi (I’m still kind of indirectly learning how to play keys). Anyways...

I feel like I’m getting better at producing and the stuff I’ve been making is shit that I’m excited to show people. Speaking of which, I was also talking to a friend about how he gets streams and he gave me a link to his agency or whatever so that might change how I release my actual shit for Spotify. That’s something I should research tonight.

It’s just... I feel guilty that I’m benefiting so much from this time. But what are ya gonna do, right

Trying to learn how synthesizers work too. That’s been fun and frustrating. Also been going hard on TikTok. Some days that’s more fun than others, mainly because creating content is only fun when you feel like it’s entertaining to other people. But I’ve been posting daily since the office closed on March 16th I believe it was. I wish I started posting there a year ago, but at the same time I don’t think I’ve ever been early enough to a platform to actually gain followers simply by posting content. Except for YouTube, but I really don’t want to talk about that. 

Getting out of bed has been so much easier than normal, thank god.

It’s so relaxing out right now. Not too hot. I’ve been watching the sunsets and listening to music at the tarpits and it’s been amazing. Catching up on my JT. And just a lot of R&B from the last 15ish years, a lot of Chris Brown and Usher and Drake and Akon and Trey Songz. I want to start listening to more pop and get more involved with that. I like knowing who people are and what songs they do. 

[candid-candy-and-compassion-blog]

It’s nice to not see you again!

Those of you who know me probably know by now that I went blind in my right eye over Christmas break. What a gift, eh? I said I’d blog about the experience because I figured I’ll either A: be able to look at this later in life and remember the rough patch I went through or B: help someone else who is going through a scary time in their life, too. I decided to open back up my old Tumblr blog that I never ended up doing anything with because I’m kind of proud of the other posts and I’m not so secretly hoping people will read those, too. For those of you who don’t know me, hopefully I won’t scare you away. haha Anyway, If you’re here to read about my current predicament then buckle up buttercup, because this post is going to be long and informative. 

Backstory on my eyeballs:

WELL, I’ve had trouble with my eyes my entire life. Born with cataracts (basically a milky monster that latches onto the lens in your eye and you can see about as far as anyone who walks outside in Steven King’s “The Mist”.) You generally see old people and old dogs with the milky film over their eye... it’s unusual to see this condition in younger people. (THANKS GENETICS) Luckily I had a great Ophthalmologist as a child and had surgery in Elementary School that helped me see like a “normal person”.

I was also born nearsighted/severely myopic, meaning I can’t see anything real well unless it’s a foot away from my face and my eyes are basically egg or football shaped instead of round. (Once again, YAY genetics!) 

Since my eyes are elongated, I’ve always been at risk for retinal detachment. I’ve been limited my whole life in fear of losing my eyesight... No contact sports because a hit to my head could make me go blind. No contacts after my surgeries as a child because I might get an infection and go blind, etc. I have a lot of scar tissue from the surgeries and stretching of my eyes over the years.

How did I lose the sight in my right eye?

Mid-November I was working at a call center and realized one day that my vision was WAY worst than normal. I was seeing what appeared to be black ash constantly falling across my vision and weird tentacle-like floaters constantly stretching in and out of my vision. I left work early to and took a cab to a local Ophthalmologist because I couldn’t see good enough to feel safe driving. I found out at the appointment that I had (as I understood, this is what I was told) a vitreous hemorrhage due to a burst blood vessel behind my eye, which means that the blood had leaked into my eyes. Also, because of (or in addition to, they couldn’t say for sure) I had other fluid leaking into my eye. I was told to take it easy for a few days. Below is an example of a vitreous hemorrhage (sorry I couldn’t find a bigger picture):

Thanksgiving was a few days later so I ended up taking an entire week off of work and 90% of the problem had gone away. During that time, I ended up with the worst migraine of my life and ended up in the hospital sick as a dog. We aren’t sure if the two were related but it was scary. Luckily, It only took a few days to recover from that. Relieved, I went back to work for a while. I ended up quitting my job because the stress of everything was too much. I started the job search and went cleaning crazy on the apartment.

December came around and I still didn’t have a job but was receiving my last few paychecks from my previous jobs. On the 19th, I had an appointment with the Ophthalmologist that I had to cancel because I didn’t have the fund since I was going to be visiting family in Mississippi. On the 18th I’d noticed what I thought was some more fluid in the top right of my peripheral vision in my right eye and didn’t worry much because I figured it would go away on its own... and I thought it did. 

Around the 22nd or 23rd I noticed the whole outside peripheral vision had started disappearing (it looked like a dark fluid was slowly creeping into my vision and every now and then I’d see what looked like bright glow worms scoot across the affected area) so I called the Ophthalmologist back home in Idaho and an appointment was made for January second.

By the 24th over a third of my vision was taken over by the dark liquid.

By the 26th I had half my vision. The fluid was forming into a backwards “C” so I could at least still see looking straight forward.

By the 28th, my flight back home to Idaho, I had less than a third of my vision.

On the 29th, the day that I was supposed to ride with my boyfriend’s brother and his fiancé to meet my boyfriend and his parents, I watched my vision completely disappear into the dark liquid in a series of a few hours. Everything had a weird, almost dark green-brown tint, I could no longer read, and the only things I could make out for sure was distorted lights. The fluid looked like bubbles constantly crashing around and little firecrackers constantly flickering about my vision. 

By the 2nd, the day of my appointment, it was mostly darkness with a few lights here and there. Now I was experiencing tenderness to the touch and my eye felt real irritated. Needless to say, I was scared. But, still very hopeful.

THE APPOINTMENT *dun dun duuuuuunnnn!*

My boyfriend drove me to my appointment at 10:30 in the morning and I was feeling real hopeful. I’d done a lot of research online - which, by the way, is usually a terrible idea.... seriously... - and it seemed like everything I could possibly be faced with was curable to a certain extent. When the nurse first started checking my vision, she was surprised by my lack of sight. She literally stood in front of me with my left eye covered and waved her hand back and forth madly - which I couldn’t see - and quickly made some notes and went to get the doctor. 

When the doctor arrived, I cheerily welcomed him with a “How nice to not see you again, Doctor!” (Boyfriend’s words. He’s the funny one.) No reaction. I was a bit disappointed. He did all sorts of tests, they took pictures of my eyes, and I was given a diagnosis:

1: Possible full retinal detachment. 

2: The lens in my eye has come loose and there is possible cataract residue leftover from surgery. That may be why my eye is so tender and inflamed. 

3: The pressure in my right eye reads at a startling 5 while my lift eye is an alarming 23. Normal eye pressure ranges from 12-22. They were a little more than concerned.

I was sent to a retina specialist two hours away in Boise the same day to discuss surgery. After they received my records and did tests of their own, they came up with the same diagnosis, plus option for surgeries. 

Surgery options:

I require surgery to reattach my retina where they will inject an oil into my eye to push the retinal walls back to where they belong in hopes that it will reattach. While working on my retina, they will either stitch my loose lens into place or remove it completely, depending on what happens during surgery. Around the same time, possibly the same day, they want to use a laser in the retina of my left eye in hopes the same thing that happened in my right eye won’t happen to my left eye. That’s all I can remember for sure that the retinal specialist told me. 

As for paying for the surgeries... well... My boyfriend and I were told I couldn’t have the surgeries until I had at least half of the money. The receptionist told us we would probably be responsible for around $1500 up front but we weren’t told for sure yet. The retinal specialist office reached out to an affiliate to see if they can help get me financial assistance and we are supposed to hear back anywhere between next months to two months from now. They also sent my records to another organization in Salt Lake that can hopefully offer me financial assistance as well as do the surgeries. 

What now?

Honestly, we are overwhelmed. It’s a mad dash to find funding through local organizations, find work if possible, and reconsider going back to school this semester like I originally planned. If I don’t return to school, I’ve got to file an extension for my student loans, if I can’t work then I can’t pay for medical costs, every healthcare application is like a million pages long, and its difficult to read... BUT I will make it! I have an amazing support system and know that God is going to take care of me. I know He doesn’t put us through anything we can’t handle and i keep that in mind. There have been times in my past that I didn’t see how I would get through the hardships mentally and emotionally yet somehow I’m here! My faith, my friends and family, and my loyal pooch and ESA (Emotional Support Animal) have helped me through everything. 

Final Notes:

I started a GoFundMe page after several friends suggested doing so. I set the goal for $1500 until we know for sure how much will need to be raised. Maybe that is how you found this blog, maybe you came here from Facebook. Either way, just reading this is helpful for me because writing is therapeutic. Know that  if you are friend or family, I love you and you keep me strong. If you don’t know me, then let’s become acquainted! Don’t hesitate to reach out to me!

I need to say a huge thank you to so many people already!

To all my donors on my GoFundMe page:

R B

Ethan Richards

Courtland Pearson

Victoria Greenwood

Aimee Walters

Natalie Moseley

Kacey Croney

Anonymous A

Darian Merritt

Vu Nguyen

Karen Horsley

Cameron Moesta

Claire Hautot

You’re all an incredible blessing!