#and whatever i dont really take part in conversations surrounding that topic but there's always that one argument that really annoys me

[navramanan]

idk just my two cents on it

[aegialia]

self-indulgent reflection on being on tumblr

so i recently hit 1000 followers on here and this blog has existed for almost exactly 8 years, so i wanted to ramble about tumblr and my experience of it for awhile. under the cut so definitely feel free to ignore this.

i started this blog right around when i was fourteen and had just started high school. at that point, i was out to my parents (and no one else) as bi, i had an inkling i was Struggling with something but i had no idea what and felt like i couldnt actually acknowledge it, and i had left leaning but very vague politics. tumblr definitely has shaped my journey around sexuality/gender/mental health/politics, both for good and for ill. 

for good: 

seeing other ppl talk about being lesbians helped me realize i could be a lesbian w/o being a traitor to the concept of bisexuality. hearing trans ppl talk about their experiences and explaining non-binary stuff and dysphoria helped me understand what i was going through 

i don’t like talking about my mental health stuff in detail on here, but suffice to say, i was Going Through it in high school. i’m still going through it now, but i am in a much better place (thank you medication and 7 years of therapy!). seeing ppl talk about the weird, dumb, awful parts of mental illness let me acknowledge that i was going through those things too, that i wasnt like evil for feeling like that, that i could change. people talking about adhd/autism was particularly helpful---being able to identify why i’d always felt like my brain just didn’t work right is the first step in the (ongoing) process of not hating myself for the way my brain works

politics is definitely the area where i think tumblr was the best for me. i got exposed to so many opinions i definitely wasn’t hearing in school, from intelligent, well-read people who could articulate theory in ways i could understand. tumblr didn’t give me my politics and i didn’t learn everything i know about theory from it, but the communities of people i was around pointed me in the right directions. tumblr was also a good place to learn how to react to criticism. this doesn’t seem to be most people’s experience, but getting called out over minor things on tumblr genuinely helped me learn how to take a step back, look at my behavior, apologize, and try to change, which, as it turns out, is a helpful skill irl as well

for ill:

wrt sexuality and gender, it’s probably pretty obvious someone who’s journey is ‘cis bi girl -> cis with a million different microlabels -> nb w a million different microlabels for both sexuality and gender -> nb butch lesbian who’s not super into romance’ would have some bad times on tumblr. the bi circles i was in made being a lesbian seem like an immoral choice, the ‘’’mogai’’’ (or whatever u wanna call them) circles made me feel like i had to divy up and perfectly label every aspect of myself in a way that really wasn’t helpful for me, the lesbian circles i was in made me feel like being a lesbian was about ending up in a monogamous butch/femme cottagecore relationship and that there was something wrong with me for not really wanting that. to be clear i think microlabels can be very helpful for people/a monogamous butch/femme relationship is a perfectly fine thing to want, they just didn’t work for me. im very very glad ive reached a point in my life where i dont feel the need to stay up to date on the latest discourse and am more focused on finding a way to exist that is comfortable for me and supporting my community irl. 10/10 would recommend to everyone

not going to get deep into it, but social media is. not good for my brain in general. i still enjoy using tumblr, but these days im pretty careful to step back from it frequently and treat it as an occasional hobby. 

the cons of political stuff on tumblr are probably also very obvious. there are some just awful discussions on here and the culture surrounding the way we handle bad behavior and justice and accountability and working to become a better person and make up for the harm you’ve caused has historically been fucking awful and trying to unlearn it and find new ways to engage with this stuff is exhausting. 

for all that i’ve changed over the course of having this blog, this blog has stayed pretty fucking static. i started out being super into diana wynne jones and the iliad and those are still two of my biggest interests and things i talk about the most on here. there are definitely specific things that have petered away (i started this blog almost entirely to keep up with good omens fan stuff and i pretty much haven’t touched it since the miniseries came out, i haven’t sought out pacific rim/supernatural/elementary/mcu content in years), but im still pretty much interested in the same things. i like relatively small fandoms, i like weird side characters, i like to be a grumpy child playing with my toys in the corner. when a fandom im in gets popular, i tend to stop engaging with it entirely (hello rqg/tma/good omens/enola holmes!). i dont think its a pretentious ‘i liked it before it was cool’ thing so much as a ‘people get Weird and awful when a fandom hits a certain level of popularity and there’s too much content and i really, really hate the bad faith arguments larger fandoms tend to spawn’ thing. i’ll consume content from big fandoms, but i pretty much refuse to actually engage with them at this point.

one of the stranger parts of my experience of tumblr is the social side. i’ve never really known how people make friends online---how do you go from liking each other’s posts and occasionally replying to them to actually being friends who communicate off social media? i’ve had conversations with ppl on tumblr and i’ve had sort-of friendships that are contained to tumblr where i’d like to get to know them better, but i’ve never figured out how to do that. my best friend’s job is pretty much to make friends/connections on the internet (she’s an activist and artist), my dad knows people everywhere in the world from twitter, and i’m just sitting here like a little old grandpa who doesn’t understand how you can have internet friends. 

at this point in my life, i’m fine with this, but this has made me feel real fucking bad in the past---like, if everyone online, even the ppl who say they’re weird and brainbad in a similar way to me, can make friends on the internet, what’s wrong with me? particularly in high school and my first year of college, when i was just horribly lonely all the time, it made me feel super disconnected and like there was something fundamentally bad about me. these days, i’m a lot chiller about it. i use social media to engage with stuff i enjoy and share my thoughts about it. it’s okay that my social difficulties extend to me not knowing how to use the internet to socialize.

on a somewhat related topic, it’s wild that i have 1000 followers. obviously, that’s not an actually super large number and a huge number of them are probably bots or inactive. if you post consistently for eight years and follow lots of people, like i do, it’s not a surprise to end up with this many followers. it is also, thankfully, the sort of followers that are not fans. probably most ppl following this blog dont remember why they followed and dont know anything about me or my interests. this sounds like its meant to be depressing but it’s not. i like that my way of engaging w the internet lets me do pretty much whatever i want and no one will care. the mere concept of being. like. tumblr famous in any capacity, even just in one community/fandom, is viscerally horrifying to me. 

i really enjoy the space i’ve created for myself on here. on one hand, going back through my blog is obviously embarrassing and full of hating my past self. on the other hand, i now have a very nice collection of things i enjoy in this blog. i like seeing what i’ve been interested in and (when i’m in a good mental health place) i like to be able to remember how i thought and talked about the things i loved when i was younger. im not at the place in my life where i can love a younger version of myself, but sometimes i can laugh at zir with a level of fondness. 

i’ve always been paranoid about sharing details about my life on here (and the fact that my parents have always been able to see it certainly contributed), so the version of jack on here is a carefully curated version, who’s super enthusiastic about the things they love, was very conscientious about apologizing and trying to do better when ze messed up, and tried to be polite to others. that’s a younger version of myself that i’m closer to being able to have compassion for than the version i find in essays and poems and memories. 

i’m starting grad school in ten days and i’m still using the blog i started when i began high school. tumblr has helped me in a lot of ways and hurt me in a lot of ways, but i still have to admit that it’s been a significant factor in shaping me. i’d be incredibly embarrassed to admit that irl, but it’s true. other than my family and like one friend, this blog is one of the only things that’s ‘known’ me since i started high school. i’ve changed so much in that time and im glad to have this weird little record of myself throughout those changes, even if i’d probably warn my younger self away from tumblr if i could go back in time.

tl;dr i have had a mixed experience on tumblr and i have mixed feelings about that experience. no idea if anyone read any of this very long, very rambling internet memoir

p.s. fun facts about this blog:

i’ve never changed my icon or blog title

i recently got a second version of the poster i got my blog title from. i chose my blog title by looking at what was hanging on the wall directly in front of me. 

my original url was gloomthkin. this was not, as you’d probably assume, an otherkin thing. i had literally no idea what otherkin was at that point. i’d just learned the word gloomth from a bill bryson book and thought it would be cool n edgy to be the child of the quality of gloom. i changed my url after i learned what otherkin was and realized everyone probably assumed something about me that wasn’t true which i hated (not bc i had an issue w otherkin, just bc i don’t like ppl thinking untrue things about me)

during my good omens days, i once sent a tumblr ask to nail guyman which, in retrospect, was kinda rude. i stand by the content but id never send an ask like that now. he replied to it privately in a way that so deeply embarrassed and shamed 15 year old me that i’ve never gotten over it. i still get nervous and embarrassed when i see anything about him or his books

[the-hotter-otter]

Strangers || ATEEZ Fanfic

Seonghwa X OC

Mafia/Crime AU

3.7k words

Part 3 || chapter list || previous chapter || next chapter

Hyejin can’t fully commit to Seonghwa’s tempting offer, meanwhile Hongjoong continues to keep secretes.

Warning: blood, minor death, injury, violence, knife use

Angst, fluff, smut, cussing, violence, death

note: ayo shit will start moving soon I promiseee, I seriously don’t know where this story is gonna go but fuck it we’ll see. 

No pov

Hongjoong wasn’t at all surprised when Seonghwa came into his office late at night. He could tell there was a lie in between the lines Seonghwa spoke when he confronted the two last week. Being best friends for years with a bit of blood, death and guns on the side really did bring people together. 

“What’s her name?” Hongjoong asked, he couldn’t stay mad at Seonghwa. Hongjoong knew punishment wasn’t necessary on the eldest who was already racking his brain on it, as a leader he could tell when further discipline was needed and when it was best to leave it to their own self conscience. “If she’s staying here, I should at least know.”

“Lee Hyejin,” Seonghwa said, cursing the weird feeling of familiarity he felt after saying her name. 

“Lee hyejin?” Hongjoong quirked an eyebrow, he’s definitely heard of the name from somewhere, he just couldn’t pinpoint where. “Sounds familiar.”

Seonghwa merely nodded, somewhat glad that Hongjoong didn’t directly question him. “I’ll take responsibility for her.”

Hongjoong liked the sound of that, though it didn't change the fact that he was overlooking one more person. “That means a lot of things hwa, keeping her in line, taking care of her, watching her and protecting her if shit goes down.”

“She isn’t 5.” Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not spoon feeding her.” 

“But she knows.” Hongjoong reminded him, “and she knows she has you wrapped around her finger, people take advantage of that.” 

“I can always shoot her.” Seonghwa said as if it were so simple.

Hongjoong looked him up and down, silently judging the older one. Hongjoong sighed, he wasn’t exactly up for this kind of conversation at 2:30am, “Dramatic much... Aish don't waste the bullets, the suppliers have been shitty to us lately.”

“What I’m saying is you won't have to worry,” Seonghwa said, “you’ll barely notice her.”

Hongjoong looked Seonghwa up and down, “you want her to stay that badly?” 

Seonghwa was taken back by the other’s awkward perspective, “yes? There really isn’t any ulterior motive.”

Hongjoong gave a dawdled nod as he chuckled, “I’m playing with you hwa. Bring her in, I’ll let the others know of our latest addition.”

Seonghwa was about to step out of the office when Hongjoong suddenly spoke up again, “don’t forget about that task I gave you.”

Seonghwa gave a sharp nod, “I'll see to it by the end of the day.”

“Dont fuck up!” Hongjoong noted loud enough for the other to hear, he could imagine the rise he got from it. Deep down he was just joking, after all, Seonghwa never fucks up. 

Hongjoong enjoyed the tease he gave his best friend, more often than not, the former was in tight situations with serious consequences, loosening up was often the last thing he’d find himself doing. 

His smile was short lived when he suddenly felt the vibrations of his phone, and it wasn’t from the bold red one that was sprawled on the desk with the many papers. His face dropped drastically upon realizing that someone was calling the phone hidden deep in his pockets. There was only one person who’d be ringing. 

Mazaki Meiyo.

“Yes?” Hongjoong cautiously spoke up, his eyes darting around the office. He got up and opened the door to check if anyone was giving his conversation a listen. 

“They moved the deal.”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, “when?”

“In an hour. You know just as well as me that this isn’t going to end smoothly.”

“Your deals rarely end well.” Hongjoong scoffed bitterly, he pulled the phone away from his ear when the other line went dead. He had to go now if he were to make it in time, he couldn’t afford to be late, not for these kinds of deals. 

Hongjoong pushed off his seat and swiftly buckled his hidden artillery onto his thigh and around his torso, making sure that his best weaponry was in close reach, ready for whatever conflict he was about to get into. Pulling the hood over his masked face, he checked the location Meiyo had sent him. 

The leader eyed the pile of paperwork that was due in a matter of days, he dreaded the inevitable all-nighters we’ll have to pull because of it. 

As Hongjoong left the household in silence, he turned his main phone off completely and stowed it in a hidden compartment. No one was going to find him tonight.

-

Hyejin pov

I stared at the phone screen in dismay, the loan shark has been after my ass for the debt I’ve yet to pay. I've been trying, but even after much struggle I only possess half of what I owe. 

I hated to take that offer from Seonghwa, the money from that deal would have covered my debt and rent from my residence long enough for me to make something out of a scrubby part time job, he just had to ruin me once more.

Then again, what other choice do I have? I leaned back on the wall of the alleyway, I don’t know anyone in this world. I was forgotten years ago, Seonghwa is the last person I’d go with, but he’s also the only one. 

My eyes drifted to the tall buildings around, they blocked the sunlight from ever entering these shabby alleys with large bins and locked deserted gates and doors. I met with the gazes that had been watching me for a while now, in a building a few blocks away yet still in perfect view, two middle aged men who most likely reeked of cigarettes and alcohol admired me from their apartment which could easily come off as an abandoned building left to collect dust and grime.

I squinted my eyes as I felt my vision start to give into fatigue, unrealistic hues of blue and neons started bouncing around. Every now and then, the migraine in my head would dust my eyes with a cloud of grey that blurred my sight ever so slightly. I sighed as I began seeing four instead of two weird men. I tried to refrain from focusing on anything, the lack of good sleep and food had me feeling all sorts of murky effects. 

Their stalkerish behaviour had been creeping me out for the past few days, despite it, I never saw a proper reason to leave the little spot I've claimed for rest. Plus, the odd duo hadn’t made any advances that had worried me thus far. 

The day continued, and the city had been busy as usual. Bikes raced down the side of the roads and paths, scaring the uptight mothers into a slur of curses. Teenage girls carelessly skipped around in their tiny croptops, powdery make up and flaunty shoes with boys their parents have no idea existed. Cars drove with their temperamental owners honking and anything and everything, then there were the workers who were either strolling around after their shifts or sprinting in swerves around people in effort to not be late.

Yet here I was sitting in a slump not so far from the hoards of people, absorbing the natural noises of the city that started to sound more like blaring megaphones instead of white noise. 9pm had crept faster than I expected, truthfully I wasn’t sure whether or not to go through with Seonghwa’s offer. I still had a chance to reconsider, perhaps I could deal with the information for money? After all, a controversial topic surrounding Seonghwa would no doubt bring in a big sum. 

I shook my head from the ludicrous thoughts, there was no guarantee in shady business, ever. It's a far-fetched plan, and the fact that I didn't have a name to my face meant I was that less convincing. 

Though I knew this offer would mean gambling my safety and if I were to stretch the possibilities, my own life. I still wasn’t 100% on board with the whole moving in with Seonghwa and whatever team he’s apart off, neither could I fathom the thought of that sinful man working with people, and that’s without mentioning his sudden change in attitude towards his victims.

It was yet another reason why I’m so reluctant to associate with him, because this isn’t the Seonghwa I was familiar with, he was a stranger, and no one is at ease when they’re affiliated with someone they don't know, especially when that person had guns, knives and all sorts of deadly possessions in their grasp. 

I groaned as I got up with a hazy mind. I looked up and to my suprise the stretchy men were back to watch me, it started to feel uncomfortable now. “Nice knowing you too I guess…” I keep my voice to a murmur. Soon I found myself heading to the meeting spot. 

My heart feels enraged with regret, and it’s impossible to ignore. There was a mere few minutes till the clock struck 9, I can get out of here now or never. 

The Central Train Station was quite grand. With multiple steps just to get to the entrance, neatly trimmed gardens surrounding the place and ancient pillars that held up the building. It was one of the older buildings that turned into a modern utility. 

“Fuck...” I muttered under my breath, “no, fuck this.”

Before I could think I was already speed walking to get the hell out of here. I had pride, I could at least preserve that after losing everything else. 

-

No pov

Blood coated the blade and splattered across the floor and walls of the office, the books on the shelf were drenched and soaking up every bit of red fluid. If only the man had just followed through with the deal, he wouldn’t have ended up dead. 

“What a hassle.” Seonghwa sighed, as he wiped his blade clean on his way out, though it was satisfying seeing the horrors painted on his face as Seonghwa taunted him, revenge for the knife he flung at Hongjoong during their last deal not long ago. 

Seonghwa analysed the slash along his shoulder area, it wasn’t serious at all but it sure did look ugly and soaked his dress shirt in a dark red, in the midst of the tension it felt numb but as his heart rate came down he could slowly feel the stinging pain emitting from the open flesh. He let out a relieved sigh after knowing that none of his own blood had ended up dripping anywhere. 

If it weren’t for the man’s sleeping family in the other room, Seonghwa could have easily finished it off with a bullet but he had to move silently. In turn, it cost him when the man felt fit to fight back with his own blade.

Seonghwa felt Hyejin was partly accountable for his injury. 20 minutes was a bit of a rush for a mission like this, but he had no choice if he was going to make it to the station in time. There was a chance that Hyejin wouldn’t even show up, and that chance made seonghwa unsteady and tense. 

As he pulled up to a red light he felt a distant memory unfold, one that brought a sense of discomfort.

Laughter bubbled up in the front of the car, toothy smiles that twinkled despite the gloomy rain outside. The lull of the music had been turned down for a while now as the soft chatter continued. 

“Hyejin, I told you I don’t need anything for my birthday.” Seonghwa insisted once more with a light chuckle, his one hand on the wheel while the other tried to hold her hand back. He watched in helplessness as she clipped the dangling toothless charm around the rear mirror of the car, her little laugh escaping her lips as it dangled between them.

“It’s cute! I’m telling you, you look just like him.” Hyejin insisted, “and that’s not even the best part.”

Seonghwa couldn't help but smile when the toothless unclipped in half to reveal a small photo framed inside, the details were minuscule but clearly contained the two of them on one of their more memorable dates. 

“Ya, this looks expensive, how much did you spend on me.” Seonghwa diverted the conversation as he observed the matte black of the green eyed dragon. 

“It wasn’t much, don't worry hwa.” Hyejin patted his hand, “I’ve got something else, it's more personal since I made it myself.” 

“So you have something else now?” Seonghwa sighed, though his stupid grin betrayed the annoyed look he tried to show.

The red light cascaded from red to orange to green and before hyejin could whip out the other half of her gift seonghwa sped off, “fine! I’ll accept your gifts, love.”

Seonghwa sneered at the Toothless charm he had yet to take off, if anything it became part of his car’s identity, making it slightly easier to navigate the garage of small black cars, specially on the days when all the vehicles would be together. 

Seonghwa had pulled to a slow stop in front of the station, hiding the charm was his first and foremost priority, Hyejin would most definitely recognize it. 

As he was about to yank the chain off, the corner of his eyes caught a sudden shadow appearing at the window.

Completely forgetting about the charm, Seonghwa halted in his seat, his hand already clasped around the gun latched onto him. It wasn’t until a hesitant Hyejin peered through the window did he relax his grip. On the other hand, Hyejin was feeling anything but relaxed, especially after seeing the bloodbath of a man in the driver's seat.

“So you’ll take my offer?” Seonghwa asked as if it wasn't already obvious enough, Hyejin scoffed. Her response was seen through the way she snuggled down into the passenger seat in a strained sigh of relief after being situated on the hard concrete for days on days.

Throughout the ride Hyejin had kept a careful observation of the roads they had been speeding across, if worse came to worse, she could make a run for it. 

Hyejin silently and subtly glanced around, the car itself hadn’t changed at all, not even the peppermint scent it gave off from the gum Seonghwa had been loyal to for most of his life, though it was currently heavily overpowered by the stench of blood. Hyejin didn’t want to know how and what got him that gruesome injury.

However, the most prominent and unusual feature that had still existed in the car was the all too familiar charm that dangled and swung around underneath the rearview mirror. The dragon's bright green eyes and toothy smile didn't go unnoticed, especially since Hyejin was the one who got it for him years ago. 

Hyejin had the decency to stay silent about it, the stiffness of the air was already far too overbearing, there was no need to intensify it’s sour atmosphere.

“It’s not just me who lives here.” Seonghwa brings up, 

“I figured.” Hyejin sighed, she had heard the many rumours over the years of how a certain group had been overturning the criminal world with unrivaled skill and accomplishments, they became big in the industry. This group of young, skilled men made a name for themselves and it became one feared by many, ATEEZ. 

Though it wasn’t just their skill that had made them the talk of many circles, it was the people within the group, the majority of which already had a reputation high on their shoulders. Hyejin had heard of the promising sniper who had joined their ranks, the insanely witty dealer who knew how to smooth talk his way to riches, the stealthy man who snuck into and claimed dangerous possessions without a single sound. 

Then there was the hitman who possessed the skill of 100 men, he was a young and promising lone wolf who had been rumoured to have joined ATEEZ.

Hyejin didn’t want to believe it was Seonghwa, in fact she didn't want to hear about anything related to Seonghwa, but it wasn’t possible when she was involved with loan sharks and illegal exchanges for the money she was in dire need for. Of course, because of her interactions with others, Hyejin was aware of Seonghwa’s growing skill and relevant changes, it disgusted her to say the least, how much better he had gotten at taking lives.

However the failed deal from last week confirmed her denial to be wrong, Seonghwa was well and truly closely associated with a group, and that group was no doubt ATEEZ.

“Dont try anything stupid.” Seonghwa warned, Hyejin rolled her eyes slightly, “I’m serious, I see the way you're memorizing these roads.”

Hyejin froze momentarily, she eyed Seonghwa who had removed his eyes from the road after stopping at a red light. Hyejin had forgotten how sharp he actually was, the intellectual from highschool still existed within him.

Hyejin got the chance to really see how much Seonghwa had changed, even underneath all of that stained blood and light smears of dirt, she could easily tell that his facial features had sharpened immensely, he wasn’t the same soft faced charmer that made highschool hearts throbs on a daily. If anything, Seonghwa now resembled a high class heartbreaker with a body count worthy enough for a world record. 

Of course some things don't ever change, like his lush lip and stunning eyes that stared back at her. Before the awkwardness could settle, Hyejin looked away, subconsciously glancing at the toothless charm. Seonghwa noticed the glare she gave it, his hands went to take it off but was ultimately stopped by the swat Hyejin gave.

“What’s the point of taking it off now? You had years to do that.” Hyejin raised an eyebrow. 

Seonghwa did not respond and merely sighed as he began moving on the road once again. Hyejin was taken back when they suddenly verged off into a bush area, what was a simple scenery of grass turned into a splatter of greenery. Trees towered high, vines and dense bushes had taken over, it was an untouched forest and they were driving right through it.

Hyejins eyes squinted in growing concern, she wanted to believe they were just passing through to get to another town, but her panic only continued to rise as they got deeper into the maze of nature. Her eyes glare at Seonghwa who seemed to have already expected her to build up doubts.

“Jump out and you’ll be as good as dead.” Seonghwa warned, as he quickly glanced at her stray hand reluctantly reaching for the handle.

“Where are we going Seonghwa….” Hyejin glowered at the driver who was rather unfazed. Even when the subtle sound of a knife being drawn was heard, Seonghwa didn't look away from the road.

The driver pushed his head back against the seat as soon as he caught sight of the fast approaching knife. With the blade a finger's length away, Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not gonna hurt. We’re going to the house, so put the knife down and have a little faith.” 

“Who the hell lives in a goddam forest?!” Hyejin hissed in a raised voice, her eyes teared up from staring so intensely into his side profile. 

“Put the knife down or we’ll both die.” Seonghwa lowered his voice, and Hyejin did not comply. The male halted the car to connect his eyes to hers, in one swift and unnoticeable movement, he grasped her wrist tightly, causing the knife to be let loose and drop to the pit of the car. Hyejin suddenly let a sharp exhale out as Seonghwa pinned her hand down in between them. She cursed her hazy headaches for causing the drastic disadvantage against Seonghwa.

“Stop panicking, we’re almost there.” Seonghwa said as he began driving once again, Hyejin didn’t attempt to squirm out of his hold.

“Your a fucking joke,” Hyejin hissed, “I’ll never put faith in you, not after all the shit you’ve done to me.” 

Soenghwa pinched his lips together at the indirect upbringing of her family’s murder. He wasn’t about to smooth that mess out now, it’ll require a calmer Hyejin and a better situation to explain. 

Hyejin tried to compose herself, but she knew the only way to soothe her panic was to see proof of what Seonghwa was saying.

As they pulled into the driveway of Horizon, Hyejin's tense shoulders melted into the seat. Seonghwa scoffed as he got out of the car first. The jerking of his head signalled for her to get out, hyejin sneered at the man, “give me a damn second will you?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes before heading inside momentarily, most likely to check if anyone was still up in the early stages of the night. Hyejin took the time alone to get a good grasp at what she had just gotten herself into.

A house, full of dangerous men, in the middle of a forest and a single long ass road back to civilization. 

This wasn’t ideal at all, and Hyejin started to regret this more than ever.

As she took in short breaths her eyes trailed back to the rear mirror charm. All of a sudden, curiosity had her fiddling with the Toothless till it unlatched. She furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of the blank frame. It wasn’t that she was disappointed, it was merely confusion.

“But you keep the charm…” Hyejin glared at the Toothless that was once a gift of love. In the back of her mind she wondered if her other gift was still intact.

Hyejin could worry about that later. Right now, she needed to stay sane and alive, she knew well enough that she would never be guaranteed a way out of death's grasps. Relish in the house and slowly pay off her existing debt? Yes. Get comfortable and trust that your back will be safe in a distant place full of criminals? Hell no.

[voidcat]

Intrusion

– 5 : bach & vitamins (wc: 2k)

prev ; next ; m.list

a/n: there’s a scene of card playing so if you dont like anything to do with playing cards,,, its by the end. It’s bluff & i didn’t explain it in the fic bc its rlly simple but i’ll insert the mini note to explain a specific thing i wrote in the fic by the end as a bonus note! + def not my best playing but yea, bach prelude no.1 is played in the fic so..

It’s like any other school day coming to an end. The teacher’s voice getting lost in the sea of students’, as they discuss loudly what to do and where to go, ‘Oh and did you see that?’s here and ‘Have you heard this?’s there, hands and words scattered around as the notebooks and pens are tidied up, put away inside the bags until not a single sign of life is left in the classroom.

It’s almost like any other day, with everyone doing the mundane actions they do each day. And just like any day, you pack up on a whim, place each item in your bag carefully, never interrupting the order of your bag but unlike any other day you walk away from the door and stand over the brunette you’ve come to know more.

It doesn’t take a fake throat clearing on your side, for he notices your presence fast. Getting up and holding his bag on one arm, he gives a curious look your way. If you’ve taken the time to approach him out of nowhere, you must have something to say.

You blink a few times as you look at him. “I was wondering if you start practice right after school or if at least half an hour later.” Words don’t come out in a struggle unlike your expectations.

“Half an hour later. Why?”

“Just- Follow me.”

And so the two of you end up where you first met, properly. This time you’re aware of his presence and he is of yours. This time, it is all planned, not a ‘caught-up-in-the-moment thing. And this time, it’s shaky hands instead of cold, leaving bruises in the papers you’re holding, so you place them on the piano’s open lid quickly.

He sits down with you, to your right, much closer than before. If you make an effort to see him sideways, you can, so you try to brush off the idea itself. You have enough distractions at hand.

Keeping a rhythm with your right foot and tapping it eight times, you take one last deep breath and start hitting the keys. Eyes glued on the papers before you, your left hand starts and joins right after. The first hits are too quiet to your liking and a little out of sync, you hope it’s not noticeable. Eyes going back and forth, you take little moments to watch your hands once in a while, when you’re ahead of the notes, already knowing your next moves.

As your first favorite goes and the first volta is repeated, the tone starts going down, much deeper this time but as lively as the previous ones. You start hitting the keys with more force, trying to achieve the echoing sound you can do once in a while, only when luck is on your side.

Bemols start entering the scene and you start getting quiet at the beginning of each volta. As the melody rises again, so do you. Back straightening without noticing.

Similar repeats of different tones, same pattern made with new sounds, almost flooding around you, almost surrounding you. So close, too close yet never carrying the same satisfying taste.

Quiet once, an echo full of force afterwards, back and forth, the same playing routine.

Your hands keeping going down, to your left. As you go down and down, the melody never falters. Getting to A again and moving your right hand in small scales, you go up again. Up, up and alive, full of life.

This rise is flawed, it doesn’t come as smoothly, much to your dismay. Trying to brush off the pressure of failure, you keep playing. The familiar Cs and Es come once again and playing the same exact notes you did at the beginning, you do the nursery rhyme of an ending. Finishing off with an anxiety arpeggiated chord, more like another failed attempted of it and you pull your hands to your sides, head turned to Iwaizumi a bit too quickly.

He doesn’t seem impressed. He seems far from that actually, almost annoyed. Your frown matches his. You are 100% sure you’ll blame whatever conversation to happen between the two of you on Bach later today.

Tapping your foot again, much quicker and impatient this time, you admit defeat, head dropping back once with a sigh, you face him, again. “So?..”

“So what?” Fine, if you want it be that way.

“So, what do you think?”

“It was alright.”

“That’s it? ‘Alright’?” Irritation clear in your voice, it bothers even your ears. He seems either oblivious or unaffected by it.

“Unless the last time was a fluke, I think you could do better than this.” Your eyelids drop, brows furrowed. Why did you agree to do that again? What came over you to do this again?

Ignoring the look you give his way, Iwaizumi keeps speaking. “If you’ve trusted me enough to bring me here and listen, it couldn’t have been for some inconsiderate pampering. If it was honest opinion you were looking for, here it is. If it was just hitting the keys on correct timing, you got that covered, that’s for sure. But the way you played was soulless.”

Hearing your own thoughts come out of a stranger’s lips is never easy. Never pleasant or welcoming either. No matter how close or how far the person is, it always stings. Even when you know he only means well, doesn’t mean to hurt you with criticism. Because he is right, if you wanted to get compliments from someone who won’t even fully listen to your playing, you could’ve gone and called any of your friends. And still, knowing these doesn’t make the comments any warmer or nicer.

“What time is it? I’d hate for you to be late for practice because of me!” Getting up from the bench a bit too fast, ignoring to comment on his previous words, you can see another emotion spread across his features. You just can’t decide if it’s hurt or disappointment. You’d rather not know.

Picking up his bag and offering you yours, he trails after you and parts ways at the school gates.

Not a word is exchanged between the two of you until you say a hushed “Good bye.” accompanied by a wave.

Empty lunch boxes already cast aside, you find yourself focused too much on the cards. As your friends chat between one another, noises making no sense nor reaching your ears, you mindlessly shuffle the deck, the same words from yesterday echoing in your head.

It was alright.

Alright.

Alright.

Not an insult per se yet not what you wanted to hear. Not from a stranger, is he still a stranger? The way he seemed to decode you that well yesterday argues with your statement. You could brush it aside if that was said by someone in-and-out with music, someone who plays or at least studied it. As far as you know Iwaizumi Hajime was neither of those things, he must have figured it out himself, but how? Isn’t it too soon, too quick?

As you recall your tutor’s words again, referring to Bach as ‘vitamins’, you can’t help but smile. You really don’t like Bach.

Clasping your hands together, deck still between them, you raise your head to your friends. “Alright! Who’s ready for another round?” The glint in Matsukawa and Okemia’s eyes tell it all, Etsuko nods once and you start handing the cards, ready for another round.

Losing count on how many rounds, as Okemia pulls another mass-placing-down-cards move of hers, everyone comes to a halt, turning towards the figure coming their way, a little out of breath.

“Mattsun, there you are! The meeting’s about to start, are you coming?”

“Have the trash king and Godzilla arrived?”

“You know him. The ‘v’ of volleyball comes out of someone’s mouth and he’ll transport there.” As a knowing smile is exchanged between the two, you find your friends eyeing one another. So this must be the infamous Hanamaki Takahiro.

With a shrug, Mattsun turns back to you, eyes focused on his hand. “They must have started bickering with one another again, it’s safe to assume that ‘meeting’ is already dead. Three 7s.”

“Probably. Mind if I join you guys?” He sits as he finishes speaking. “Sure.”

“One 7.” You place downyour card and watch for the reactions. Hanamaki seems to realize what’s going on only now. “Are those… playing cards? Aren’t those forbidden at school?”

“Oh no! These? They’re not ours, we just found them in this spot.”

Okemia joins in to back you up. “We’re just making sure none of these cards are damaged or lost so we’re keeping an eye on them until the owner arrives.”

“By playing?” “Yes. Bluff. Wanna join after this round?” He returns your smile. As the round comes to an end, won by Koto this time, you start gathering the cards and the others explain the rules. He’ll probably fall for all the honestmoves the first time.

This round ends shortly, won by you, Hanamaki falling for all your honesty and ignoring your bluffs. Why would anyone think a single card placed down to be a bluff, you have no idea, but as long as people keep falling for it, you’ll keep doing it.

As the game goes on everyone in the circle seems to have won, except for Hanamaki. After a while it becomes apparent the problem lies within him, he is awfully bad at this game. Mattsun does the same tactic Okemia likes to use and each time, Hanamaki calls ‘bluff’, ends up with the cards, all fours, but he can never use them right. At one point you start feeling really bad for the guy and try changing the topic.

“So Mattsun, now that you’ve read that comic as well, what do you think?” “Weren’t we right?” Koto adds.

“Wait, which one? The one you read in between breaks?”

“Yes-“ “What? Were your hands sweaty?! Hanamaki! Were his hands sweaty?”

“Call me Makki, everyone does. And don’t worry, his hands were as clean as baby skin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?..”

“I think the phrase was ‘as soft as baby skin’. Remember that moisturizer I’ve used recently?”

“Yes Okemia but it makes no sense. That one was really soft though. Mattsun if my comic book smells of teenage boys, sweat and testosterone-“ “Do you think I’d actually do that?”

“Did Pietro Maximoff betray his family before?” He only laughs in response as the conversation divides into several, everyone talking between one another, joining in another conversation. Makki fits in this dynamic so well, not having any trouble adjusting. Maybe the volleyball team is like that too.

When the topic, one of the topics, focuses on desserts and a new place to try, he joins in on the plan as well, picking a day with the lot of you. Gathering your things after that, you start walking back to class. You walk with Mattsun and Makki to get your book first.

“Ah wait! It caught my eye but we were all walking so I didn’t want to be nosy but… What’s the deal with pants?”

“It’s a long story actually.”

“I’m sure I can make time, if you want to tell. So I take it, you guys are the first ones to do the whole breaking-dress-code-partially thing, right?”

“I-“ You rest your head to your head with a groan. “It’s not breaking the dress code if we wear the pants that are a partof the said code. But yes we were the first ones to do it. For comfort and safety reasons, if you really want to know.”

“Got it! There are rumors everywhere and I didn’t want to go snooping around. But I think it’s cool what you’re doing. So you guys really don’t mind if I tag along to this handsome more often at lunch?”

“It’s fine, a friend of Mattsun’s is a friend of ours too. Plus it’s fun to watch you struggle with all these cards.”

“You won’t be saying that next time!” “We will see.”

As your exchange with him comes to an end, the bell rings, as if on cue. Rushing to your class, you wave at Iwaizumi once, the same smile infected by Makki still on your face.

a/n 2 about Bluff:  When you have enough cards in hand (full sets of enough numbers, ie: four 7s, 5s, 8s,9s,Js, Qs etc) the Player starts placing down four at once. The people doubt at first do usually someone calls Bluff, if it isn’t Bluff, next time the player does this almost no one says a thing. These are the actual times the player bluffs, one bluff and one honest move... And before you know it, the player gets rid of their incomplete set of cards and the rest they hold are the sets of four so they finish quickly. I for one don’t like using this because it’s not the safest opinion but if you’ve done that once or twice, you start to get known for this too and this effects future rounds/plays.

[love-fireflysong]

Day 24: Wedding

Fandom: Until Dawn  Character(s): Ashley Brown, Chris Hartley Words: 3349 Rating: Teen (kissing got *slightly* more heated then I intended. whoops. also language.)  Author’s Notes: If you thought that day 21′s story was fluffy oh boy do you have another thing coming. It’s not nearly as sappy (i dont think ill ever be able to write anything like that ever again), but it’s certainly up there!

It’s not that Ashley wasn’t having a good time, because she was! Surprising even her honestly. But it was all becoming a bit much. There was too many people pressed together, some dancing, some still sitting at their tables. The music was too loud and and leaving her head feeling muffled and heavy, and the people sitting at the table around her talking and laughing weren’t helping that matter either. It was even this weird combination of too dark and too bright for her eyes to handle, the open outside area under the canopy was pitch dark with night outside, but the bright spots of the lantern lights strung around the canopy had been making her eyes sting for a while.

Not to mention, it was just so hot in here. A combination of all the people pressed together in one area and the fact that it was a mid-August night, was making Ash feel like her skin was about to crawl away from her and just go die somewhere else. Preferably the pond located only a few minutes walk from the wedding site. Now, to be fair, a good part of her was aware that while this was all a lot for her to handle, the two or three glasses of wine she had had earlier certainly weren’t helping matters any. 

She just needed to leave. Not the entire area exactly, but get far enough away that she could sit down on one of the nearby benches and just take in some peace and quiet. Feel the air of the humid August night on her skin. Maybe actually take a swim in the aforementioned pond and cool off. Okay, no, she wasn’t actually going to do that. As tempting at the idea sounded (and boy oh boy was it tempting), she wasn’t nearly that drunk. So she stood up on shaky legs, excused herself from the table where she had been sitting with Chris and his parents (and a couple of cousins she had regrettably forgotten the names of already) and walked off.

She passed Chris’s cousin, Madeline, and her new wife on the way out, giving them both her congratulations once again, and assured them that she wasn’t going far, just to clear her head a little. The new wife, Rosalie, had nodded in understanding and pointed her towards a little area that she had always found perfect for getting away from the hecticness of life. Ash had thanked her profusely and headed off in the direction indicated, but not before Madeline had thanked her for coming (again) and mentioning how nice it was to finally meet her (again).

Ash returned the sentiments, and hurriedly left the too hot canopy in the direction Rosalie had indicated, finding the bench easily enough after only a couple of minutes. She could see why Rosalie had recommended it to her. It was close enough to the wedding party that it was still in sight, but far enough away that the sounds were more of a background noise that meshed well-enough with the more natural sounds of the park. It was even close enough to the pond that the light breeze carried some of it’s more cooling properties to her. 

She wasn’t sure if that just made her want to jump into the pond more or less now.

But all in all, surrounded by towering trees and blooming flowers, it was nice. It was private. And best of all, it was quiet. So Ash let out a sigh of relief and leaned back a bit to take a look at the night sky above her.

“There you are, Ash!”

She looked back towards the area where the canopy was and smiled at the sight of Chris making his way towards her. Sure, she had wanted some time on her own, but she could never refuse time with Chris. So she waved her hand up in greeting and when he got closer, patted the seat next to her in invitation. He sat down without any hesitation.

“You feeling okay? You were starting to look a little out of it there for a bit.”

Ash wasn’t surprised that Chris had caught that, but it didn’t make the butterflies in her stomach flutter any less. “Yeah, I’m okay. It was just starting to be a little too much at once, you know. Feeling much better now.”

The short bark of laughter that he let out was more akin to an exhale of breath. “Yeah, I feel ya. Sorry for making you come to this by the way. I know that these really aren’t your thing, not that they’re really mine either though.”

Ash rolled her eyes and bumped his shoulder with hers. ‘You didn’t make me come, you dip. You asked, and I said yes. I could have refused at any point and you wouldn’t have stopped me.”

“True. Shame that Josh wasn’t able to make it either though.” 

“He has that whole Cape Cod thing with his sisters every August. Nothing to be done about it.” She shrugged, and then couldn’t help the snort that came out. “We’d really have a party going on then, though.”

Chris nodded enthusiastically at her. “Oh man. Can you imagine? I mean it’s already pretty busy in there,” he stuck his thumb back towards the wedding party under the canopy, “but that would be tame compared to whatever Josh would turn it into.”

“Conga line for miles.”

“At least!”

The two of them broke out into unrestrained giggles, not helped at all by the wine that both had been drinking that night. Until finally Chris looked up at her and gave a bashful smile, and Ash was once again reminded how much the color of his dress shirt brought out his eyes. Not that she would ever tell him of course. Josh would have, would have teased her mercilessly about it in fact, but she wasn’t Josh. She wasn’t nearly that brave.

“I really, really do appreciate you coming with me to this, Ash.”

The smile she gave back was just as shy, and she bumped their shoulders together again. The conversation trailed off after that, but she didn’t mind too much. She thinks he doesn’t either. She likes sitting next to Chris like this, when things have gotten quiet and soft and it’s just them. 

After a few moments, she looks down towards her hands and notices how close his right hand is to her left. All she would have to do is reach out a little and she could wrap her pinky with his. She spends about five seconds debating on doing it, only to feel her face flush at the realization. Jesus Christ, maybe she’s more drunk then she thought.

“Can’t believe your cousin booked an entire botanical garden for the wedding.” 

“Huh? What?” Chris gives her a look of confusion, a little jarred from the sudden topic of conversation, but understands quickly enough. “Oh! Yeah, I think it was because of Rosalie actually. She loves flowers and plants and shit, studied it in college or something.”

“Horticulture.”

“Gesundheit.”

Ash rolls her eyes, but can’t help the fond smile. “It’s the study of plants, dork.”

“Hey, it’s not like I was able to shove a dictionary into my pocket or anything. I don’t even have pockets, Ash. Can you believe that? Had to leave my phone in my coat!”

She tries to disguise the laugh as long-sufferiing sigh, she really does! But she can tell she failed by the way his face lights up just a bit. “Oh no. No pockets. I wonder what that’s like,” she gestures dryly to the dress she’s wearing.

Chris laughs as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Alright, alright. I get it. I’ll stop.” He gives her a curious look though. “Why’d you ask about the gardens though?”

Ash moves her hands so they’re clasped in her lap and looks down at the hole the toe of her shoe is digging into the dirt. “I don’t know,” she says finally. “I guess it just surprised me is all. Not exactly the location I’d choose myself.”

“Oh ho! So you’ve thought about what your wedding would be like Miss Brown?”

She looks up from her new project and into the look of exaggerated interest on Chris’s face. One hand is firmly clasping onto his glasses as he lays into her with an intense look. She gives a casual shrug and smile. “Once or twice.”

“Well you can’t just say that and expect me not to dig, Ash!” He moves placing his head into the palm of his hands as he balances his elbows on his knees, staring at her with wide-eyed interest. She can’t help the laugh that bubbles out. “So spill! Tell me everything.” 

“Oh man. Um, I guess I’ve always kind of imagined a backyard wedding?” She pauses to think it over for a moment before giving a quick jerk of her head. “No, it’s definitely going to be in a backyard. And with only close friends and family.”

Chris nods in understanding. “Small and private. Sounds like you.” He starts to swallow nervously and looks away for a second, and for the life of her she can’t understand why. “Got anyone you imagine it’s with?”

Ashley doesn’t respond, instead biting her lip and returning to look at the hole that has now expanded to twice it’s size. 

“Wait, are you serious?”

She’d like to think the shrug she gives is casual, but she knows it’s anything but.

“Holy shit. Oh, holy shit. You have a crush on someone?”

“I mean, it’s not that big of a deal—”

“Are you kidding me right now, Ash? Not a big deal? This is a huge deal! You have a crush on someone and you’ve never told me or Josh?!”

Ash just bites her lip harder, still refusing to look at Chris, knowing her face is probably as red as the wine they’d been drinking earlier. “Josh knows,” she mumbles out.

“Wait, so you told Josh, but you never told me?”

“I didn’t tell Josh, he just, sorta, well, guessed. Correctly.”

“Oh. I mean, I guess that tracks. He kinda sorta guessed mine too.”

“Wait.” She raises her head to look at Chris, only to see that he’s not actually looking at her, but off to the side where the pond is, scratching awkwardly at his jaw. “You have a crush on someone too? How have I not known about this?”

“Um, because I never told you?”

“Nuh uh. Not going to work. You’re completely terrible when it comes to keeping secrets. So spill. Who’s the person?” She doesn’t want to know. Her heart is already shattering as she speaks, but she needs to know. Know who this person is that managed to get Chris’s attention when she couldn’t after all these years.

“I’m not gonna tell you, Ash! Are you going to tell me yours?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Exactly!” She watches Chris stand up, limbs jerky as he clumsily makes his way to his feet. “So let’s just to back to the party and we’ll both forget that this conversation ever happened and—”

The words are out of her mouth before she knows it. “Let’s play a game.” And she wishes she could take them back almost immediately. Oh, she really was way more drunk then she thought. He was giving both of them an out, a chance to walk away and pretend that this conversation wasn’t happening and that they weren’t about to ruin their friendship. “Let’s play a game.”

Chris groans tiredly as he drags his hand over his face. “Ash, I’m not really in the mood for games right now. So let’s just go back—”

“Five questions.” She swallows nervously. Oh shit, she was going to ruin everything if she didn’t stop talking now! “We both ask each other five questions about who our crush is. Yes or no questions only."

“Just five questions? That’s it?” She nods and he sighs in what could be defeat, but he sits back down heavily next to her on the bench. “Fine. But just five questions, alright? Do you want to go first, or should I?”

Ash swallows and draws in a shaky breath for courage. “I’ll go. It was my idea in the first place.” She could do this. She could figure out who Chris liked. And then, when she was home and safe under her covers, she could cry her heart out later. “Do I know them?”

“Yeah.” The nod he gives is jerky. “Yeah, you know her pretty well actually.”

“Oh! So it’s a girl!”

The laugh Chris makes is a tight thing, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. “No fair! That doesn’t count.”

Ash’s smile is forced, but not as forced as it could have been. “Not my fault, you’re offering more information then you need to.” Okay, so that narrows it down to either Sam, Emily, Jessica, or Josh’s sisters. Except now she’s really confused to how in the world she missed this.

“Still not fair. Okay, um, do I know them?”

Ash shakes her head but she’s laughing. “Doesn’t count! You can’t ask me the same question I just asked you!”

“Wait, that wasn’t in the rules before! You are rigging this game to be in your favor, Ash!” The laugh that Chris makes is much more natural and it set’s her a little more at ease. She’ll be fine. She can do this! “Fine then,” she watches him hem and haw for a moment to find a question. “Do they make you laugh?”

“Yes.”

The sigh Chris gives then, is one in relief. “Good. You have a cute laugh, you deserve someone who brings it out of you.”

“Oh.” Never mind, she was wrong. She can’t do this. She absolutely cannot do this. “Um, okay. Have you known them long?”

“Yeah.” Narrowing it down even further to Beth, Hannah, or Sam. “Is this a recent development?”

“No, it's not. Have you ever asked them out?”

She’s a little surprised by how puzzled Chris looks at the question. “I mean, I haven’t asked them on a date or anything, I guess?” Hmm. She’ll narrow the question down a little bit more next time. “Do they like cookies?”

She can’t help the giggle that escapes. “What? I mean, yeah, of course they do. What kind of question is this?”

“I’m running out of idea’s Ash! You’re the brain person here, not me! I’m just the funny guy with the jokes!”

“And sometimes you can’t even pull that off.”

“Oh, ouch. Low blow.”

Ash is too busy still laughing, happy that things have finally gotten back to normal between them, that at first she doesn’t notice his reaction to her fourth question. “Did you ask her to be your plus one to the wedding?” And then she does, she’s noticed he’s stiffened right up in his seat and now refusing to look her in the eyes.

“Yeah, I did.”

Oh. Well now Ash hates whoever Chris asked. Why wouldn’t they want to come with him? He’s the funniest, nicest guy she knows and it doesn’t matter that Hannah and Beth are off vacationing in Cape Cod or that Sam has that work placement thing at that national park or—

Wait. She turns to stare at Chris in shock. There’s no way. There’s absolutely no way. But, it makes sense. Both she and Chris have known about the Washington’s Cape Cod trips in August for years now. And Sam had been so excited, she had been talking about her national park thing for months. So, that just left...

Her.

“Chris,” she manages to squeak out. “You still have two more questions.”

“No, I-I think I’m done playing now.” He starts to try and stand up again, but Ash has already reached for and grabbed onto his shirt sleeve to keep him there. 

“It’s just two more questions, and you can repeat all the questions I’ve already asked if you want. I don’t care. Just please, please don’t go yet.” She knows that she’s being desperate right now, but she doesn’t care. She has one more question, and if she’s wrong she’s never going to be able to recover. But she doesn’t care, she needs to know!

“Ash, I really don’t think—”

“Please!”

“Do I know them?”

“Yes! God yes! You know him, Chris! You see him everyday!” His eyes have widened behind his glasses, but Ash is already asking her question. “Did you ask anyone other than me to be your date this thing?”

If his eyes were wide before, they’re practically saucers now. “What? I don’t—”

“Answer the fucking question, Christopher!”

“No! I didn’t— I didn’t ask anyone else!”

Ash settles back down onto the bench, breathing far too heavily than is appropriate. There’s no way that this is actually happening to her right now. No way in hell. She’s going to wake up any moment in her bed and realize that this was all a dream. “You have one more question.” If she has any thoughts towards how absolutely breathless she sounds right now, she couldn’t care less.

“Ash, listen, I—”

Slowly, she shakes her head and watches his adam apple bob as he swallows. “Would-would you tell me who it is if I asked?”

She nods jerkily. “O-oh. Well then,” he licks his lips nervously, “who—”

She doesn’t give him any time to finish his question. Ash has already moved her hands so they’re gripping the front of his shirt and dragging him down so she can place a fierce, hard kiss on his lips. It’s over almost as quickly as it started though, and she pulls back to stare at a dazed Chris, looking for all the world like he had just been clubbed over the head.

“You,” she manages to gasp out. “It’s you, you idiot. It’s always been you.”

Anything she could have said is lost, as that’s when Chris’s brain finally kicked in again and he responded by twisting his hand into her hair and pulling her into another kiss just a searing as the first. Ash doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around his neck to hold him closer as his free hand finds the center of her back and is now pushing her chest into his. She knows that he’s probably—definitely—making a mess of her hair, but when she starts whining into his mouth when the kiss deepens, she finds that she doesn’t give two flying fucks anymore.

The second kiss goes on for much, much longer then the first one. And the third longer than that, and on the forth she finds that they’ve shifted at some point so she’s 100% straddling his lap in her dress right now as they make out on the bench. By the fifth she doesn’t really care about that either. 

Eventually the two of them do manage to separate, and are pressing their foreheads together staring at the other in wide-eyed amazement. Ash giggles at the sight. The lipstick she had worn was now a mess all over Chris’s mouth, and she could already feel that her hair was an unsalvageable rat’s nest of hairspray and bobby pins. There is going to be no explaining this away. It’s pretty dang obvious what they had both been doing. She leaves a small kiss on the tip of his nose anyway, just because she can.

“You think that maybe your parent’s have started to worry about us? Think we should head back soon?”

Chris let’s out a low breathy laugh, his smile bright enough that if she wasn’t already flushed from their previous activities, she certainly would be now. “Honestly, Ash? I don’t give a shit about what everyone over there is doing right now.”

He leans in and gives her a much softer and more tender kiss then anything they had shared earlier. And as she sighs happily into it, she finds herself agreeing wholeheartedly. No matter what’s going on over there, she would much rather stay here with Chris. 

[wwounu]

mafia!jeonghan “YOON” #11

↻ masterlist — intro￤s.coups￤yoon￤hong￤wen￤hoshi￤jeon￤woozi￤dk￤kim￤xu￤boo￤chwe￤lee

traitor

member of Venor Unit

his role is more of a spy, however jeonghan likes the term ‘traitor’ more than anything

there are many rumours about him

only a handful have been picked to be debunked as true or false

for years he’s still been rumoured whether or not hes a member of seventeen

surprise surprise, he is

and the story of how he was recruited was one he’d never forget

because who would forget his missing nineteen-year old childhood friend climbing up to the top of his penthouse, at 1:27 in the morning, and suddenly break and walk into your bedroom like it’s no big deal?

in other words, he wasn’t pleased to see his dearest seungcheol

his friend was talking about all sorts of nonsense the moment he startled awake: japan, gangs, tattoos,, bad haircuts,,, poisoned ice cream??

this wasnt the seungcheol he remembered

so with mixed feelings, jeonghan told seungcheol to crash on his bed while jeonghan would take the couch and asking seungcheol to take a shower because he looked like he came back from a fight with a shark

when morning came seungcheol was trying to explain jeonghan about the wonderful complicated world of mafia business

but jeonghan had none of it — it sounded unreal

on top of that he was more fussed over seungcheol leaving for two years and not telling his own friend about it

with all this anger building inside him, mainly due to the stress of trying to get his head around this whole... thing, he told seungcheol to leave and go back home

seungcheol gave a look at him, a hard look, before he sighed and stormed out of the place

jeonghan didnt miss the small ‘no one ever stops to listen to someone like me’ under seungcheol’s breath

and never in their friendship they brought light upon their many differences, so it kinda tugged on jeonghan’s heartstrings

it saddened him knowing he didn’t give the welcome his friend wanted but at the time he thought he was in the right

then for the next two weeks, seungcheol was desperately trying to get jeonghan to join his ‘mafia’

(mafia in asteriks, because jeonghan wasn’t having any of his bullshit)

through messages, messy letters, he even received a collection post-it notes stuck around his penthouse without traces of who did this even though he fully knew well who it was 

and that night jeonghan was paranoid that seungcheol would randomly break in again

then the desperation for help stopped for the next month

although jeonghan did enjoy the attention from his best friend and wanted to continue this ‘fun’ game, he began to grow concerned

his best friend disappeared without a trace. again.

the cope was harder to deal with this time, because the insignificant thought about seungcheol truly being a mafia boss was becoming the host of his nightmares

you best believed the utter shock on his face when he saw seungcheol sat beside his door around midnight

hood up, dirty head to toe and one nasty cut on his lip and cheek

jeonghan was supposed to go to a party, but that priority was ignored straight away

he takes seungcheol in, aiding the cuts before doing anything else

as jeonghan would expect from the man, seven year old seungcheol would be screaming ugly noises with snot running down along his tears

but this other seungcheol didn’t flinch at the pressure of the alcohol touching his skin, and looked in every direction to avoid jeonghan

that — thankfully — hadn’t changed

seungcheol always payed attention to his surroundings when he doesnt want to be in a situation. it happened a lot with his father

so jeonghan asks why he looks like shit

and all the anxieties rush to his brain as the thought of his lash of anger to seungcheol caused the latter to end up like this

questions like when did he last eat?, where did he stay?, did i do this?

but seungcheol started explaining himself

something about these high schoolers ganging up on a sixteen year old in their school because of his looks, seungcheol stood up for this said ‘sixteen year old’ and found the four-against-one fight fair play until they brought out knives and seungcheol was like youve got to be kidding me

and suddenly, one thing led to another and the sixteen year old lit a tree on fire???? and he lifted a stray branch, took out a lighter, then lit it before storming to the high schoolers with a maniac-like look on his face

and the kid was then gone as he chased the high schoolers away

seungcheol had never been more confused

but he had to get out as there was still the,,, burning tree there,,,,,,

and when he finished his story, he paused, falling silent again and sort of bitterly saying ‘sorry, half of the things i say sound unbelievable now’

and jeonghan is a bit offended but he wasn’t going to push seungcheol away yet again

so jeonghan tells him that he believes him and at first seungcheol kept arguing that he’s bluffing for his sake

surprised, jeonghan reassures him again and again to get it through seungcheol’s head that he’s going to join him because he’s going through a hard time, anyone can see that

remaining silent, seungcheol nods before he manages out a thanks

they apologise and forgive each other, and later that night seungcheol tells everything — and i mean everything — about his family and the mafia

it was a heavy night for seungcheol

which brings us to today

since jeonghan was born into a rich family, it made seungcheol’s job way more easier than it was as jeonghan had higher class connections with others while his friend kept lowkey

he can have news alerted to him quickly like updates on parties, social events, scandals, some juicy affairs here and there, all that corrupt high-society crap

and he gets the odd word about some mafias in korea, making it his duty to report all of it back to seungcheol

with seungcheol’s command, he does whatever he instructs him to do, which is to spy on any updates of the situation

hence why he’s always out at fancy social-events

its truly a bore though. he’d rather sleep in

you may think he’s just acting naive most of the time — but he’s listening to every word and every moment he can sink in all around him

the highlight of the night is when everyone gets drunk, which is the perfect time to hear their dark secrets and use his sweet-talk

effortlessly finds a way to manipulate his way to invite himself and seventeen, who’d he’d call associates, to any banquet whenever he senses dirty work will commence

his pretty-boy looks usually do the trick ‘seventeen’s pretty boy’, the group calls him

makes the time to take care of the member’s schedules and invitations to these places, even going to the extent to make replica invitations

creates a plan of how the members enter so that they wouldn’t be seen together and raise eyebrows

particularly during these events, other suspicious men try to keep a close eye on jeonghan due to the rumours of his relation to the seventeen mafia

yet they’re wasting their time because he’s never in one place and socialises with many people

often when he strays on his own, he explores the area and wanders from room after room to find anything else valuable

normally reports to wonwoo what he finds through an earpiece

‘i found a diary’

‘youre going to open it arent you’

‘risqué, she keeps a taser and a ton of money in her lingerie set’

‘dont take the money’

‘wasnt going to’

‘jeonghan drop the roll of money right now’

‘... fine’

‘okay’

‘i took the taser instead!’

did i mention that he needs to ‘borrow’ a belonging as his souvenir for the places he visits

and because of junhui, he has semi-mastered the skill to hide all evidence

also pretty much hates it when he’s rushed, needs to take his tiem with everything (excluding when they’re in grave danger then that’s different)

mouth runs a lot so when he really needs information to be spilt, he exposes other lowkey scandals to get the information he needs

this is where he gets his traitor title from

if he’s framed as a traitor, he turns the tables around and either puts the blame on someone else or on the person calling him a traitor

he’s grown up in this corrupt class and knows all the dirty ins and outs of it

when he feels like he’s being interrogated to spill information, he takes control of the conversation and does subtle things like asking for things usually pouting when doing so or complimenting on one thing before discussing something completely off topic

he can never expose seventeen and will never expose them even if he’s dying 

another off-topic fact, he calls people babe a lot

mainly because it makes people feel a certain way, but its jeonghan’s self-acclaimed magic word

that word does things

is also a part of A Team, but due to the fact jeonghan is always busy, they dont work together as often as they used to

looking at soonyoung, wonwoo and jeonghan, you wouldn’t think of them to be that close but they’ve had history

out of all of seventeen, he’s the weakest in terms of weaponry since he’s basically just a informant to seventeen

therefore his choice of weapon are usually used by the closest thing to him

prefers glass as his choice of weapon if he had to choose, so because of this minghao frequently gives him smashed wine bottles for jeonghan’s use

a bit of a brat

but seventeen never mentions it

loves seeing people beg in front of him, especially when theyre desperate

this might be because he likes attention on him

teasing and poking fun at them gives him the greatest joy, it leaves him so satisfied but also wanting more

normally after difficult jobs done by the whole group, when Perficio Unit are clearing up the last of the evidence and killing the last of their suffering enemies, jeonghan skips in to take a wonder around too

Perficio Unit let him because its jeonghan

blood is soaked everywhere, many men are on the floor, some dead, possibly not, and their fancy suits all ruined while the four males finishing the job play jazz music on blast as they take care of the remains

just another job for seventeen

and jeonghan inspects each face, making sure the fear is their eyes while theyre slowly dying from blood loss. if they arent, then jeonghan pulls a gun out of his pocket and points it at them, getting the reaction he wants

(the gun was full of blanks anyway, what’s there to be scared about??)

decides to steal a wristwatch from one of the men and gets told off by the unit because they now have to get rid of jeonghan’s dirty fingerprints for stealing the accessory

loves it even more when Perficio Unit are in the middle of an interrogation (on most occasions they lead the questioning) back in their hideout and pops down to see how their ever-so suffering victim is hanging in there

generally summoned down if 1. wonwoo is busy or 2. they need the victim to speak a bit more

jeonghan doesn’t play once he comes down — but its inevitable that he’ll make sure that he gets the satisfaction that he wants from the person held captive

will stay until theyre sweating and crying in a mix of blood and tears and they are begging in front of his feet while tied up. he wont stop the torture unless the person confesses truthfully to what Perficio Unit ask and feel numb around their whole body that it hurts

uses the taser he stole in addition to let the pain sink in even more, also decorated the taser to have stickers of a halo and wings to look like an angel

when they get the answer they want, it’s a job well done for jeonghan

and when the victim thinks its all over, jeonghan sweetly grins one last time to them, turning foot because, really, he cannot do anything to the poor soul

he shrugs and walks, searching in his back pocket for a gun a filled one this time, twirling it around his fingers before handing it to one of the unit members

without skipping a beat, he smiles, whispering ‘enjoy’ and leaving them to do their job

needs the members as much as the members needs him

a perfect balance

“Somebody said it means imperfection and danger”

[gwentoryfics]

TMI: all of my female friends and me included have a hard time reaching an orgasm while sleeping with someone for the first few times, especially if there's not much foreplay or clit stimulation during sex. I know that there's women out there who reach their orgasms easily and just through penetration, but the majority of women I know can't, and especially not when they don't know a dude. It takes a lot for me to cum and trust plays a big role in it so I can't relate to most orgasms sadly lmao

anonymous said: I dont know if this falls under unrealistic smut but somehow every fictional virgin girl has a mind blowing orgasm when she loses her virginity. Most girl friends I talked to were very tense and said it was super awkward and they didn’t even come close, and even the ones who said that it was a nice experience did not cum for the first few times they had sex.

anonymous said: This isn’t a pet peeve or a turn off but sadly I can’t relate to overstimulation or multiple orgasms. When I have an orgasm and I start to come down again, I don’t want anything or anyone near my clit for at least 20 minutes. It’s actually really painful if someone touches my clit before it calmed down again. So yeah, also TMI but 🤷🏻‍♀️ lol

First of all, thank you anons for reaching out about this topic. I think it’s a natural point of conversation when talking about smut writing, and I love that the three of you are willing to share your experience. Thank you for that. 💕

I agree on all of these points. Women statistically have a MUCH harder time orgasming from penetration alone, and trust is an important factor in the whole experience. First times are usually not great because of nerves, so it’s definitely unrealistic when a first-time smut scene is full of mind-blowing orgasms. And a lot of people get incredibly sensitive after an orgasm, and so just one is plenty. I have a similar experience with all three of those things!

WARNING: nice long post under the cut about my experience with orgasms. Just sharing my personal experience because I think it’s important to talk about, even though it’s something I’ve felt a lot of embarrassment and shame about for a long time. 

basic tl;dr - I’ve had trouble with orgasming for years for a number of reasons, and because of my anxieties about sex I use smut writing as an escape, and as a way to vicariously live out my desired sex life through my characters.

Let me start off by sharing that I’m currently 25, turning 26 in a few months. I started becoming sexually active around 14, but I didn’t have penis-in-vagina sex until I was 16. I think that time range is important to understand.

So all in all, I’ve been active for about 10-11 years. I’ve been touched with the goal of orgasm by six different people (plus another long-distance partner who never actually touched me, but Skype/phone sex is a thing). Across all of that, I’ve had probably less than 10 orgasms when a partner is involved, and all of those orgasms have only happened with the same person - my current boyfriend. That’s a lot of years and a lot of sex for a handful of orgasms.

I had my first orgasm when I was 19. I didn’t know my body could do that. I went to college and bought my first vibrator, and it gave me the tiniest little orgasm. I wasn’t even sure that it had really happened. But it did and I was just like, “Oh. Neat.” Not even close to mind-blowing.

Since then, I’ve been able to give myself much better and stronger orgasms, but the vast majority of the time I’m able to orgasm only if a vibrating/sucking toy is involved (oml my sucking toy is my absolute favorite, I highly recommend). Rarely, my hands are good enough. The first orgasm I ever had with a partner and without a toy happened just over two years ago, and that was the night I discovered that I enjoy riding my boyfriend’s face lol.

I’m sure most of us are aware of the statistics surrounding female orgasms - how we generally have a lot more trouble reaching orgasm than males for a variety of reasons. This is a very real thing and I know I’m not alone in struggling with this.

Personally, I think my struggle comes from my anxious personality. I put a lot of pressure on myself to perform during sex, to make sure that I look good and sound good and appear attractive to my partner. I think that probably comes from the fact that I started looking at porn when I was twelve. It seemed to me like there was a way that sex was supposed to happen, and a way that females were supposed to be during sex. So I tried my best to make sure my partners always saw me in that light - even to the point of faking orgasms left and right to make the boys feel better about themselves.

It was easier & less scary to just fake it than it was to explain that I didn’t really feel anything. I figured that me putting up with a lack of orgasms was better than the blow they’d take to their egos if I told them I wasn’t into what was happening. Even worse - I was afraid that if I told them I wasn’t feeling anything, they’d think there was something wrong with me. 

So let’s see… I faked my first orgasm when I was 16. Not sure if I did it the day I had sex for the first time, but it definitely started with that partner. Four partners & five years later, I was forced to stop. My faking had gotten out of control, to the point where if I wasn’t faking multiple orgasms every single time we had sex, my boyfriend thought I wasn’t enjoying myself. And then he started to doubt that I could even orgasm so frequently, and he confronted me about it. I decided to be honest, thinking that it was finally time for me to own up and try to reclaim my sexuality for myself.

He was insecure. I was insecure. He was upset that I had lied for so long, and I was upset that he wasn’t more understanding about it. We almost broke up, but we didn’t.

That was the summer of 2015. He and I are still together and have been dating for over six years now, and I love him more than anything. But the years of pressure and faking have seriously messed with me and most of the time I struggle to even want sex because I have so much anxiety about it. We’ve gone through a lot of dry spells while I’ve tried to work my shit out, and it’s a process. I’m trying to be more confident about sex and comfortable with whatever my body wants or needs in order to feel pleasure - and COMMUNICATING those things, that’s probably the hardest part. I totally clam up when I should be able to easily tell the love of my life what he can do to drive me wild.

Fuck anxiety, man.

And there are certainly other things that have played into my overall sex anxiety, like all the negative messages I received from my parents, schooling, and peers about sex, and the incredible fear I have surrounding getting pregnant or contracting STIs. Above all, the fear of judgment reigns supreme, and it has gotten in the way of so many aspects of my life - sexuality included.

This is probably way more than I actually needed to share, but this is all so that I can rationalize the way that I write.

I understand how difficult it is for a lot of women to reach orgasm frequently, and I know firsthand the shame and disappointment that can come from a lack of orgasm. For such a long time, I’ve felt like my body is broken. Like no one would be interested in putting in the time and encouragement I need to make an orgasm happen. 

That’s not the story I want to write.

For me, the sex scenes I write are a fantasy. It’s a wonderful picture of what I want my sex life to be like. I want positivity, I want orgasms, I want to be wild with lust for another person. Yes, those things can sometimes border unrealistic (still kind of cringing over the fact that I included squirting in HFT), but that’s what makes it fun for me. It’s an escape. 

I’ve toyed with writing a realistic virgin smut scene that doesn’t include a female orgasm, but I just don’t want to (don’t worry, anon, I know that you’re not actually asking me to do that). I don’t want to try to navigate the character’s emotions/thoughts when she doesn’t have an orgasm. I’ve already done that FOR YEARS in real life, and it’s been nothing short of painful and upsetting.

That’s just not something I can make myself do, no matter how realistic it is for the majority.

I want to write characters who are comfortable with their bodies, and partners who are fully invested in making it a shared experience. It feels like if I write about it enough, I can eventually make that my reality. 

I won’t apologize for writing an unrealistic number of female orgasms in my stories (and I don’t think that any of the anons here are asking for an apology, anyway). I will continue to write frequent orgasms with the hope that all of you lovely ladies out there will understand that YOU HAVE A RIGHT TO ORGASM. Your orgasm is not less important than your partner’s orgasm. ESPECIALLY with heterosexual sex - his cum is not the goal. It’s a shared experience, and you should get just as much pleasure from it. You’re allowed to want that, pursue that, demand that.

If you struggle with orgasms, it’s okay. You’re not broken. Bodies and minds are complicated. There’s nothing wrong with you. 

And please, I beg you - don’t start faking. Don’t do that to yourself. It’s an injustice to both you and your partner to lie about your experience. If I had talked honestly with my partners about this, I could have reached a more positive place in my sexuality a lot sooner. Just try to be open with your partners, and if that’s a difficult thing for you to do, then try to think about why that might be the case.

I know I just threw a lot out there. But I want you all to know that my blog is a safe space and you all are absolutely more than welcome to reach out to me at any time if you want advice or validation, or if you just need to share your experience with someone. If you want to ask questions about my experiences, ask away. I’ll be an open book for you all so that we can try to normalize having healthy conversations about sex.

[jokertrap-ran]

Ayakashi Renga (あやかし恋詩) Prologue Translations (Part 1 + Tutorial):

*Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Name will remain as my normal ( ラン )  * Something I did on a whim  __φ(．．;) …

Due to certain circumstances which required you to change residences as soon as possible, you found yourself viewing the interior of a high-class apartment named "Pot Palace Shibuya". The strange residents you met there seemed to have some reason or another for living there...

This is the entrance of an apartment building located somewhere within the city-- I'm standing here right now due to some bad circumstances... ...

Ran: Whaat!? This apartment was defective!? Owner: Sorry about that. Since that's how it is, could I ask of you to move out as soon as possible? Ran: N-No way...

... --And so, I started searching for a new place of residence as soon as I could. However...

Ran: He's late...

It had been 20 minutes since the apartment broker had told me to wait for him outside the apartment building. He did say that he was going to call the landlord, though...

Ran: (Did something happen? Isn't he taking way too long...?)

With the feeling of uneasiness growing as the minute passed, I took a peek inside the apartment building.

Ran: Whoa...It's such a gorgeous and new apartment. It might not be too bad to live in a place like this. Ran: (It has cheap rent despite where it's located at though...what if there was something going on behind the scenes...?) Ran: Oh no! What if this apartment's also a defective one!?

It was that very moment when I had started musing over the matter. --Growl...

Ran: What!? What's with that beast-like sound?

Surprised by the sound, I had unintentionally stepped through the entrance...And then... --BAM!

Ran: Kyaa...! ???: Oh my~! ???: Oh...? Sorry, you alright? Ran: I-I'm alright but I should be the one asking you that...!

He had saved me by grabbing my hand mid-fall after we crashed into each other. He had been staring straight at me as I looked up at his slender build. However, he quickly adverted his gaze...

???: I'm glad to see that you aren't hurt.

He ran a hand through his hair after he had slowly released me. After that, he started to stare straight at my face again, albeit more seriously.

???: I've never seen you around before. What business do you have here? Ran: Oh, well, I'm here to survey the apartment... ???: Hmm... Ran: (U-Uh...What?) ???: You're really gonna be living here? I don't think someone like you would be able to stay here for long though. Ran: Huh? What do you mean--

At the moment that I had questioned him, --FWOOSH!

Ran: (Whoa, what's with this sudden strong gust of wind...!?)

It was so sudden that I had unintentionally closed my eyes. When I did--

???: You...came to meet me, haven't you! Ran: Huh...?

When I slowly opened my eyes, I saw a young man staring straight at me, right in front of my face. ???: I've always been waiting for you. Always...I've always been waiting for you. Ran: E-Erm...? ???: Come to my room right now. Okay? That's okay with you, right? Ran: !

he tightly gripped onto my wrist.

Ran: (What...? W-What does he mean by that? He's kinda...scary...)

I was surprised at the amount of strength he wielded atop of the strange feeling I had about him that I didn't really understand.

???: ...Cut it out, Shika. Kurama Shika: Why? Don't wanna. I'm never letting her go. Ran: E-Erm, I don't follow your conversation at all...And also, please let go of my hand! ???: Shika, it isn't the time for you to be getting involved with a girl now is it? Wasn't it time for your part-time job? Kurama Shika: Ugh...D-Don't wanna...It has nothing to do with you,Shido-san... Shido Makoto: Huh? Well whatever, let's go. I've got band practice after this too so come along. Kurama Sshika: L-Let go of me...!

The young man who was gripping my hand turned to face me once Shido left without looking back to see if he had followed. Kurama Shika: I'll...definitely get my hands on you. Ran: (I wonder what's up with him...)

I started looking for the entrance yet again while thinking about it. At that very moment... --SPLASH.

Ran: Huh...? A water leak...? Ran: (Since when!?)

For some odd reason or another, there was water present now even though it wasn't there earlier-- ???: Hm...? What are you doing here?

I turned as a bright and cheerful voice filled the air. Ran: Oh...I've come here to survey the apartment...

A smile had broken out on his face right as I was turning to face him.\

???: Yay! I'm happy to hear that. So you'll be living here? Ran: (Wow...what a dazzling smile. It's as if he's sparkling...) ???: I'll be in your care again! --*Squeeze*! He innocently held both of my hands and gave them a little squeeze.

Ran: Um, again...? Ran: And it's not as if I've decided to live here yet...

The ping of the elevator at the entrance sounded at that moment.

Ran: (Huh...? The insides of the elevator's totally pitch black? That means...no one got onto it??) Ran: (Which means...Huh? Huuh? There's something glowing within it that kinda look like a pair of eyes though!!) Ran: (It's staring at me!???)

Terrified, I gripped onto the hands that held both of mine. And then--

???: Oh? A guest? A slender man had appeared from it's confines, alone. Ran: (Huh...? Could it have just been my imagination...??) Ran: (I thought that there was something inside the pitch black elevator but...) Ran: (He's...a normal human...right?) ???: Nope! She's going to live here. Ran: Er, Like I said, it hasn't been decided yet...I just came to have a look around, that's all. ???: Heh, I see. Then how about looking at my room too? ???: Oh, but...seeing as you're holding hands in that manner, could you already be Sou's? Ran: ...!

The guy who had just appeared said those words with a smile that implied something... I hurriedly let go of the hands that had been innocently clasping mine.

Aranami Sou: Ibuki-kun, you really don't have any modesty, do you...! Aranami Sou: To think that you'd hit on someone who isn't even a member of this house yet Oue Ibuki: Huh? You're taking a unusually long time to eat her aren't you? So she was someone who really caught your interests, huh. Aranami Sou: Hey! D-Dont you have some sense of delicacy either!? Oue Ibuki: Hehe, I'm joking. You were aboout the head out, weren'y uou? Let's go togehter. Aranami Sou: Yep, I was about to head out. See you then! I'll be looking forward to you moving in! Oue Ibuki: Me too. A cute girs like you are greatly welcomed. See you.

Unsure of how I should reply them, I could only silently bow as they left.

Ran: (Haa...there surely are tons of strange people in this apartment...) ???: Hello. Ran: Kyaa!! Ran: (W-What is it this time!? I-I feel as if this person just appeared out of nowhere...) ???: It seems like I've taken you by surprise. I'm sorry, that was rude of me. Seto Akihito: I'm the landlord, Seto Akihito. I've heard about you from the apartment broker. Come on in. Ran: O-Okay... Ran: (What, so it was just the landlord...That really took me by surprise.) Ran: Hm? Where's the apartment broker from earlier though? Seto Akihito: He said that he had urgent matters to attend to and left before us. It'll be alright, I'l definitely protect you. Ran: Uh...? Protect...? Seto Akihito: Ahh...No, it's nothing...Come on, let's proceed on.

When he had finished his sentence-- ... Ran: Huh...? I found myselff sitting on a sofa in an unfamiliar room once I became aware of my surroundings. Ran: (W-What's going on!?) Ran: (I was at the entrance earlier and now I'm inside a room all of a sudden...) Seto Akihito: (Hm? Is something the matter?) Ran: Oh, erm... Seto AKihito: This is the apartment, Pot Palace's living room. Seto Akihito: This is a shared space by all the residence. There's also a television and a vending machine here. Please, feel free to relax. Ran: I see... Ran: No I don't! I just appeared here all of a sudden, didn't I!? Seto Akihito: Really? It's alright so please rest assured. Ran: (Even if you say that with such a dandy smile on your face...) Seto AKihito: For starters, have some tea. Ran: Huh...!?

Just as he said that, a steaming cup of tea had been prepared on top of the table... (When was that there too...!?) When I stared closer at it..

Ran: Oh, an auspicious sign... Seto Akihito: You're right...that's a good omen. Seto Akihito: That's how it is. Now let's sign the contract, today's a good day to do so. Ran: Huh? I came to look arouund but all I've seen is the living room... Seto Akihito: It'll be okay. You'll be sure to like it. Seto Akihito: Now, this is your room...this is the contract for the room 301.

I signed the contract papers that the landlord had passed to me. Seto Akihito: With this, the contract has been completed. Seto Akihito: Thank you very much. Welcome to Pot Palace Shibuya. Seto AKihito: You're now a resident of this apartment. Seto Akihito: Oh? It seems like the pet, "Yamano" has something to say.

>>Following is the tutorial<< Welcome to Pot Palace Shibuya ♪ My name's Yamano! Nice to meet you, woof-meow! I've sent a mail to you Woof-meow. Hurry and go read it woof-meow.

Yamano: [If there's anything you don't understand, feel free to ask me about it woof-meow.]

Try sending me a reply woof-meow. (※The replies are fixed this time round)

[① How can I chat?] [② Can I play it endlessly?] [③ What kind of topics can you talk about with the chat?]

You can always chat just like this woof-meow. This time's just for practice so all the replies are fixed but you can send anything you wish from the next one onwards woof-meow. I'll send you messages sometime so please reply me woof-meow! Then let's go back to the story woof-meow.

>>END<<

[iluvu3k]

Roommates: Part One

Summary: Reader is a ghost that lives in Tom Holland apartment and Tom doesn’t believe in ghosts. Or does he? Let’s play with a Ouija board like all stupid 21 year olds do and find out. 

Warning: Rape mentions, swearing, death, spooky shit, dont play with ouija boards (especially while drunk)

Words: 2k

Special thank you to @axolotlnerd for betareading this for me. <3

Tom couldn’t say he hated his apartment, it was a little small but it had everything he needed. A fridge, a place to sleep, even a laundry unit he would never use. Plus it was only a few blocks away from his parents on nights where making food just wasn’t an option. Tessa loved it too, there was a dog park behind the building where she had already met a German Shepherd that had looked at her one too many times for Toms liking.

All and all, he could make it home.

You on the other hand hated every single thing about this place. Every little crack in the walls, every stray carpet hair, the way that the fridge buzzed at 2:09 every morning. Every little thing that you had noticed the past few months of being stuck in this god forsaken apartment.

What you hated most though was the way Tom saw through you, literally. You thought maybe that this would be the one who would take a second glance in the mirror and see you standing there but he was just like all of the others, waving off the cool breeze as a draft and the movies fallen off the shelves as an accident.

“Hey, darling.” You ran your hand over the blue staffy while pacing the front room, waiting for Tom to wake up. Tessa followed you around, wagging her tail furiously at the attention. At least there was something that could see you. She wasn’t one for conversation, though she tried with small yaps and deep barks. This morning she was particularly talkative begging for you to play, eventually waking up her owner.

“Tessa!” He hissed, walking into the front room, eyes still half closed. She looked from you to him, always curious why her dad never paid any attention to the other resident.

He wondered into the kitchen, grabbing a coffee cup you spent all day yesterday moving a couple inches. Of course in his sleepy state he would never notice such a trivial detail, but that was just like men, to never notice a woman’s effort.

You walked beside him, watching him poor his steaming coffee, longing for a taste. Goosebumps spread from his arm to his naked torso making all his small hairs stand up. His body gave a small shake as the tingling sensation made its way to the back of his neck.

“I really need to get the AC fixed.” He mumbled to himself, looking down at Tessa who stood between the two of you.

“You can try, but I imagine you’ll have the same luck as the past two tenants.” You leaned against the counter, your head in your palm. You admired the way he ignored every little thing you did, usually after a couple weeks people would start to get worried but he was stubborn.

The rest of the day he lounged around reading a script that his friend Harrison, a cute blonde that frequented the apartment, sent over. You played with Tessa, distracting Tom from time to time making you smile at the way his brows would furrow and his hand would run through his curly hair. You had many roommates in the past but he was for sure the cutest and closest to your age, or what was your age.

He had the repairman stop by just before sun down and as you predicted there was nothing wrong with the unit.

“Yeah, I get calls about this apartment all the time. Drafts, creaking walls, uneven flooring. I’m surprised this is my first call out here since you moved in.” The man said, packing up his tools. Tom watched him, arms crossed loosely, behind him you sat on the couch smirking.

“It hasn’t been much trouble for me at all, thanks for looking at it.” He shook the man’s hand.

“Well I’m glad that the ghost hasn’t given you too much trouble.” You raised an eyebrow, waiting for Tom’s reaction.

“Ghost?” He laughed.

“Oh yeah, a young woman died a few years back In this apartment, they didn’t tell you that when you moved in? Yeah, she likes to cause problems, or so they say. I’m just the repairman.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t believe in ghosts, really, it’s just a draft.” Tom opened the door and the man made his way out, nodding to Tom.

“Well, I’m glad at least someone is sensible. Have a goodnight, sir.”

“You too.” He closed the door and walked back into the living room letting out a deep sigh. He didn’t believe in ghosts, or spirits, or anything in that realm. He was an actor, he knew how people made those videos online that claimed the paranormal was real. But he couldn’t ignore that small feeling in the pit of his stomach, which is why he grabbed his laptop and plopped down on the couch causing you to move before getting sat through.

He opened up his internet and typed in his apartment building before pausing, asking himself if he really wanted to know.

‘Brookshire Flat Death’ resulted in many articles from four years ago, all describing the unsolved murder of twenty year old college student, (Y/N) (L/N), taken too soon. A smiling photo of you sat on his screen, his eyes fixated on yours.

“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts?” You whispered into his ear, causing the small hairs on the back of his neck to rise.

He slammed the laptop closed before tossing it aside and taking out his phone. You watched him dial Harrison’s number before standing and pacing around the living room, mimicking your actions from this morning.

“Hey mate.” He replied to the voice that answered, “Do you want to hang out tonight? Have a few drinks, watch a few movies? Yeah, everything is fine. Just bored. I do not sound ‘a bit off’. Whatever man, just come over. Okay, see you in a bit.”

He hung up and looked over at Tessa who was concentrated on you. He called her but you held her focus. He swallowed down that feeling that was now rising closer and closer to the surface.

Maybe his apartment was haunted.

Harrison had arrived with a case of beer in hand but Tom had a different idea. They left for a good while, leaving you alone to chase Tessa around the apartment. They returned  just before nine with another boy you knew as Harry a black bag that was tossed on the couch with a loud thud.

“Oh, Hot Topic, edgy.” You smiled, watching the boys open a few beers before they grabbed some candles that Tom kept for blackout emergencies from the junk drawer. “Romantic dinner, maybe? I knew you and Harrison were more than just mates.”

Harrison worked on lighting them while Tom sat on the couch, digging in the bag. He pulled out a dark colored box with weird marking all over it, it also looked to be discounted from Halloween.

“You have got to be fucking with me.” He placed the contents of the box on the floor revealing a cheap Ouija board and on top of it, a plastic planchette. Harrison set the candles around the room and turned off the lights leaving a soft glow. Tom grabbed his beer from the counter and swallowed the contents, filling his stomach with the warming liquid.

“Alright boys, let’s talk to some spirits.” Harrison laughed before sitting down on the floor. The other two boys followed not as amused. Harry read the instructions out loud, his words beginning to slur as the group began on their third beer. They sloppily read some made up words the book called an opening ritual and hesitantly placed their fingers on the heart shaped piece.

When the candles flickered you were convinced it was just a coincidence but the air grew heavier and heavier, pushing you towards the board, as if it was pulling you in.

“There is no way this thing can work.” You muttered to yourself, throwing caution into the wind, after all you were dead, what was the worst that could happen? You placed your hand on the plancheete causing the lights to flicker once again. The boys eyes darted around the room, unsure of what to do next. Harry looked back at the instructions, visibly uncomfortable.

“Ask it a question.” He looked at Tom who answered with a confused stare.

“Why me?” He tried to cover his voice cracking with a cough but you could tell that everyone in the room expected just as much as you, nothing. But here you were, surrounded by a bunch of idiots opening a ‘portal to the spirit world’ and shit was definitely happening.

“It’s your bloody apartment. Just ask a damn question.” Harrison grabbed his next beer, the scent of alcohol radiating off him. Either he would scare himself sober or not remember tonight when he woke up tomorrow.

“Fine, er, Is there a ghost here?” Tom asked, hoping there would be no answer.

Now was your chance, you had been so alone for four years and this was your chance to actually talk to someone, make someone know you were here. But what if he moved out afterwards? What if he thought you wanted to hurt him? What if he would leave like all the others and take Tessa with him? You loved her so much.

You shoved your hand towards the yes, the plancheete proving to be heavier than it looked. You shoved again to no avail. You could feel all of your energy fading with every attempt but the stupid piece of plastic wouldn’t move.

“Please, please, please” You begged, putting both hands on it now, pushing with all your strength. When it didn’t move the boys let out a thankful sigh, taking their hands away, instantly breaking the force that has called you too the board not even five minutes ago.

“No, please. Don’t give up.” You could feel tears forming in your eyes, you were desperate for communication. You wanted to be heard.

“That was a stupid idea,” Tom laughed, standing up and stretching. “I can’t believe we thought it would work. Ghosts aren’t bloody real.” The other boys followed, a sense of relief filled the air but dread clung to you like wet clothes.

“I am real.” You cried, you felt like you could just crumble into pieces and never get up again. You were so weak, so lonely. “I’m here.” You watched them banter about their silly idea, crushing your spirit more and more with each word.

“I’m here.” You just wanted someone to hear you.

“I’m here.” It had been such a long four years without your parents, your siblings, your pets.

“I’m here.” You weren’t even supposed to be home that night, you were supposed to be at your friends. But she decided to leave the club with a man instead, so you stumbled home, half drunk in a dress way too short for the weather.

“I’m here.” You swore you wouldn’t tell anyone if he just let you go, if he just let you live. He could have your money, your valuables, after all, he had already taken your virginity.

“I’M HERE!” You screamed, all of your energy leaving your body, blowing the lights you and sending empty beer cans crashing against the walls. Tessa, who had been cautiously watching the event sprinted to the next room leaving the boys alone in shock.

Tom rushed to the light switch, revealing a destroyed living room, mirroring the destruction caused that night four years ago. Picture frames shattered, papers littered the floor, the lamp busted on the floor. All that was missing was your body and the blood stains that they had bleached out.

“What the fuck.” Harrison whispered, wide eyed.                                                                    

You watched as the boys collected their things and ran out the door, calling for Tessa before slamming it shut, leaving you completely alone. A soft whimper left your lips as you stood in your old living room, relieving the loneliness you felt on that cold December night you felt the life leave your body.

A/N: So it’s going to get a lot less serious, I never intended it to be this serious. Next chapter Tom’s cousin will be bringing over a real Ouija board and tom learns to live with a ghost. Let’s just say bringing home ladies doesn’t turn out too well. 

[russellthornton]

What Is an Old Soul? 16 Unique Signs You’re Wise Beyond Your Years

You may have been told that you’re an “old soul” but you don’t get it. What is an old soul? Good thing I know the signs you’re wise beyond your years.

It’s weird being told that you have an old soul. To you, you don’t really notice, this is who you are. But you’ve finally had enough and decided to find out what is an old soul once and for all.

Well, it’s about time. If people keep telling you this, you need to know what they’re talking about. But before I go ahead and tell you the signs of an old soul, you should know what an old soul is.

What is an old soul?

If someone told you that you’re an “old soul,” take it as a compliment. It’s someone who doesn’t fit the age they are. Not physically, I’m talking about mentally and emotionally. Since they’re someone whose wisdom surpasses the people around them, they’re able to see a different perspective of life.

An old soul is usually someone slightly withdrawn from people and is thoughtful. It’s someone who can’t seem to fit in and connect with the people around them. Now, I’ve told you a little bit about what is an old soul, but there are many more signs that can help you better understand what it means exactly. [Read: How to know if someone has emotional maturity]

16 unique signs you’re holding wisdom beyond your years

Read the signs and think about yourself.

#1 You enjoy being alone. If you enjoy drinking a cup of tea while tucked in bed, you may be an old soul. Old souls usually enjoy their alone time where they’re able to think and focus on the endless topics circulating their head. If you’re introverted, this is a strong sign of being an old soul. Introverts enjoy spending time alone, either reading, drawing, or writing. [Read: Understanding the 4 different types of introverts there are]

#2 Reflection is power. You spend the majority of your time focusing on yourself and not in a selfish way. You reflect on past events, conversations you’ve had and your own feelings. You feel the more you learn about yourself, the better. And you’re completely right on that. [Read: How to really get to know who you are]

#3 You feel spiritual. You feel that there’s something bigger than you, bigger than us. Whether it’s God, Mother Nature, or the Universe, there’s something inside of you which feels this connection. If this is you, then it looks like you’re an old soul. 

#4 Your advice is deep. People always come to you for advice. You’re like the wise owl among your friends and family. When people seek your help, they’re usually floored with your response and never end up following them. Why? Because they’re not on your level of understanding.

#5 You’re not a party animal. You would rather hang out with one or two friends at home than spend a night out in a club. You feel disconnected and more alone. This doesn’t mean you don’t go out at all, you do, but you choose the outing wisely. You’re more into deep experiences than shallow ones.

#6 Honesty and knowledge have your respect. You love reading, you just can’t get enough of books. For you, books are a second world to dive into. Well, you could be an old soul. Old souls are curious about the world and love listening to others share their stories and knowledge.

#7 You’re not into the latest trends. You know what everyone’s talking about on Instagram, but you’re not interested. It’s just not your thing. Whether you get a new phone or not, you don’t care. You want to fill yourself with memories and emotion rather than materialistic things.

#8 You want deep connection. This is why you’re not going out to clubs and noisy bars. You want to have a conversation with someone, you want to connect with them. You don’t want a half-assed friendship, you want a real one. Thus, you focus on deep friendships rather than passers-by. [Read: 14 ways to feel closer and emotionally connect with someone]

#9 You think before you do. When you’re immature, you’re not profoundly thinking things through. Instead, you ignore the red flags and just go for it. But when you’re an old soul, you’re taking risks, but planned out risks. You think before you do something instead of just jumping in blindly. [Read: 12 steps to help you change your life and find your happiness]

#10 You have an old ear for music. While people your age are listening to Nicki Minaj and Cardi B, you’re listening to Bach and Ray Charles. Your taste in music is far different than the people around you. If you surround yourself with older classics, then you’re probably an old soul.

#11 Minimal is best. You’re not into consuming things. This doesn’t mean your home is empty, but you want a minimal concept. Things don’t drive your life, your life is driven by memories, books, and creative energy.

#12 You didn’t have many friends growing up. You weren’t the popular one. You even may have been bullied *join the club*. You always felt that you couldn’t make friends and were always the odd one in your class. You pretended to like things to have friends. But now that you’re older, there’s no need to act. [Read: How to be an adult and learn to behave like one]

#13 Time to reload is a must. What I mean is that you’re not able to go out three days in a row. Instead, after a night with friends, you take an evening or day to be on your own. You need time to reload your energy and refresh yourself.

#14 You just feel it. Even though you’re getting older, you still feel out of place with the people around you. You’re not into going out. You enjoy your alone time, you haven’t changed. This isn’t a bad thing at all, just accept who you are.

#15 Your advice flows out. You don’t need to think about advice; it comes out of you like word vomit. You always see things from a different perspective so you can understand situations with ease. As an old soul, you’re great at listening and answering difficult questions. [Read: How to be a good person – 10 small changes to transform your world]

#16 You love home. When you know you’re going home, a light in your eyes shines brightly. You love your home. This is where you feel safe and protected. If you have an old soul, you don’t need a lot to make you happy so long as you’re home. This is where you can entirely be yourself and do whatever you like.

[Read: An old soul weighs in – 15 truest characteristics of an old soul]

You finally know what is an old soul, and the signs that play a big part in it. Now all you have to do is match the signs to yourself or the loved ones around you. Are you an old soul? Do you know someone with an old soul?

The post What Is an Old Soul? 16 Unique Signs You’re Wise Beyond Your Years is the original content of LovePanky - Your Guide to Better Love and Relationships.

[jess-oh]

Reflection

hey journal!

i am doing a lot better mentally and i’ve received a ton of free food so im one happy gal, haha! i know i had a pretty rough start the first few days of this week but I am doing a lot better now. I’m feeling much more optimistic! 

Real quick before I dive into this... I made a comment on Angela’s interest in Dear Evan Hansen and made a “mock” argument of sorts with her and went unnecessarily into detail on a stupid topic and I thought it’d just be fun banter at first but from her tone in response, I think she actually took me seriously? So I just messaged her to clear the air bc I really do want to get better and avoid offending or hurting anyone bc that’s really not my intention.

I do want to care more about how others feel and think in an understanding sense but not so much in a im afraid what they’ll think of me sense. bc i dont want to fall down that path. i think the biggest thing i need to remember is my confidence and to rest assured that I am made perfectly in God’s image but to more importantly, come from a place of love when I am talking to other people. “Am I really caring about how they feel and think right now? How can I best serve them to do that?” Those kinds of thoughts. Which is different from “What do they think of me? Did I do something wrong? What can I do so they like me?” It isn’t an issue of how they view me but rather how I can best serve them. Which, I think the line will get pretty cloudy down the line but so long as I remember this, I think I’ll be fine.

I also worry for Jason bc like I mentioned before, I think he’s in a position where he feels the need to take care of everyone in a world where everyone is too afraid to approach anyone themselves. And I really don’t think Angela likes me. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I pushed her too much or said something ill timed. My theory is that when she found out someone else goes to Columbia, she was hoping I would be her saving grace of sorts and we’d immediately click. But we didn’t. And I didn’t save her. Because we’re just very different people. She calls me out for things pretty often and I do appreciate her blunt nature but sometimes, it is a bit discouraging. If I knew she was calling me out from a place of love and caring, I think I would be fine. But it feels like she’s constantly judging me. And I worry that she vents to Jason about me and he feels the need to defend me because we’re friends. And I don’t want him to face that. No wonder he’s been feeling so burnt out recently. He can be immature at times but other times, he’s above us all. He’s been through a lot and been forced to grow because of it. His sense of humor is immature but mentally, he’s way wiser than us all. At least, us college kids. No wonder he would prefer to hangout with Catalyst over us. I thought I was pretty mature and could match his level but I think I was wrong. Especially after everything he told me and how poorly I initially responded to it. I must admit that I’m not as mature as I originally thought. Maybe I’m just surrounded by a bunch of people less mature than I am. A lot of the times, I think I’m only prideful bc of my low self esteem but that’s not true. I’m actually insanely prideful and it blinds me a lot. When I speak with clarity, I know that it’s true and I have full confidence in what I say. But lately, I have been speaking in the heat of the moment, clouded with emotions. And that’s...a pretty immature thing to do. I need to pray for more guidance and wisdom and clarity from God bc I can’t do this without Him. I do genuinely want to get better. I do genuinely want to exude passion and wisdom and love. I do think I used to be an incredibly compassionate person but I’ve fallen a long way since then. Just because I’m “wise” around my sister doesn’t mean I’m always super mature. I definitely have my own flaws and weaknesses and it would do me good to be more aware of those things. To not speak before I’ve gathered all the facts and to actually take into account how everyone else is feeling and where they are before speaking. 

I was salty before that P. Josh didn’t appoint me as outreach person instead of Christine but I’ve definitely rubbed some people the wrong way. In trying to reach out, I messed up our relationship without realizing it and that’s on me. I didn’t realize I had hurt Chaeweon. I thought we both just grew busy. We were both filled with so much excitement at first and then it just went so bad so fast. And that was totally my fault for not realizing I made her feel stupid and less than. That was never my intention but I do admit I felt good when I bragged about my own decision making skills. Instead of trying to be empathetic with her, I made myself look better and that was really wrong of me. And I do genuinely feel bad. I do want to apologize though I don’t know if it would actually help anything. She said it was fine but I think she was still hurt. And I don’t want to apologize for the sake of making myself feel better but I want to make sure my intentions are pure and true and apologize with her in mind.

Sigh.

Iiii apologized! We’ll see how she responds but I don’t really expect her to respond at all. I just felt like it was something I needed to do. Maybe it was just for myself or maybe it was God placing it on my heart to say something. Who knows. But I do know that I want to make the most of these opportunities when I feel like I should do something. Whether that’s to reach out to someone sitting alone or apologize or give food to the homeless or sing on the streets, I want to do it with full confidence and unashamedly! Because I’m walking with the Lord on my side. And if I shall die today, then I shall die today because that is His Will and I trust in what He says.

But yeah! I’m actually not sure when I last posted was but yesterday, I just had History of Communication Design and thankfully, I got the full credit! I was so scared bc I totally knocked out from exhaustion the night prior instead of working on my homework for Graphic Design III and Developing a Marketing Plan. Wow, my brain is all over the place. Backtrack.

SO! On WEDNESDAY, I had negotiation skills and graphic design III but my DMP homework was DUE at 12:30pm that day. Which is why I was stressing! So I quickly finished my American Girl Research and then worked on Facebook on the bus! I was going to work on it offline but then the extension didn’t work and then I was going to wait it out but my worries got the best of me and I just turned on my data and worked on it on my phone with my research opened in front of me on my laptop and quickly turned it in. I wish I didn’t worry so much about the formatting because Gina showed us an example of a really good one in class the next day and if I had only known that we had the freedom to break apart from the mold, I would have done that too! Ahhhhhhhhhhh. But oh well. Now I know! But in DMP, I remember we got into our groups and I got along with everyone really well! It is kind of hard bc in everyday conversation, I feel the need to constantly be checking myself and wondering if I’m saying “I” too much or being selfish or making the conversation about me instead of actually listening.

I can’t find my mouse but I guess I’ll find it later. Oh shoot! When I start typing, my cursor disappears from the screen! Interesting...anyways. I got along really well with my groupmates and I did falter under immediate pressure but picked myself back up relatively quickly! But we talked about Jane the Virgin, Titanic, BBC shows, The Walking Dead, and a bunch of other things and I’m really blessed to be in their group! At least that’s how I feel for now. We’ll see how I feel once we actually start working on the project...in fact, I’m going to try and finish my part of the research today so that I don’t forget about and can just get it over and done with now. Because I have so many responsibilities, I’m always afraid that I’m going to forget something. Speaking of which, I need to remember I have a meeting with Jenny tonight at 10pm! AHHH! MUST. REMEMBER! But yeah! I just closed Facebook bc the longer I stare at it, the more I’m going to expect a response and I don’t want to make any more mistakes so I just closed the tab so as to no longer think about it. 

I’ll write more about Wednesday and Friday in a bit but first, I want to type this out.

When Jason revealed to me the areas in which I lack, I got to thinking some more and wondered what areas I have lacked in the past and how I could have done better. Yearbook has been the bane of my existence and that is something that I can never really escape. But for a while, I just blamed them for everything. For treating me poorly. For not making an effort to get along with me. But honestly, I never made an effort to get along with them either. I just let them do them and let me do me. But I’ve always wondered. There are definitely some people who I just know are always talking smack about me and I always wondered if the van ligten’s thought i was doing that to them. I remember when Jasmine called me and I missed it but called back in worry, hoping she was okay. And by her tone and what she said, I think they thought I thought I was cooler than them. But I never did. I had a lot of anxiety and depression and I was really struggling at home. But I never let them in. I never let them know or made an effort to be friends with them. And that was partly my fault. I did micromanage a lot and was very controlling. And I was insanely prideful for having expected the position of EIC so early on. I was absolutely heartbroken when that happened and I felt like my whole life was a sham. But without it, I never would’ve come back to God. He really did break me. So fully. And I definitely broke. But whatever I would’ve felt as EIC does not compare to the newfound love I have with God in my life. I want to constantly strive to do better. I want to be more than what I am here on this Earth. And I know that with Him on my side, anything is possible.

But back to Wednesday! It started raining! And I took up another shift at work! I was kind of freaking out bc I wasn’t sure if I just made a grave error in choosing to work 4 days a week again with all these extra responsibilities and priorities. But I think I’ll be okay! At least I hope so! But I went to Waffle Wednesday and briefly spoke with Claire, Jamal, and this other girl whose name I cannot remember...and it was great! Graphic Design III went pretty smoothly and I feel like Dan was weirdly nice to me this past week during that class and the week prior? Maybe he’s just trying to be a nicer person but it’s borderline flirting. But he also definitely has a girlfriend so I’ve been kinda confused... Regardless, I’m going to continue observing and see if he really is being extra nice or if I’m just tripping. I also told Evelyn about it in class today and she said that she noticed him talking to her more recently when he never usually did so maybe he just had a change of heart? Who knows. I don’t think I want him to ask me out. If he did, I think I would just be stunned and need to get back to him. I think a part of me hopes that he does want to so that I know I’m a desirable person and I would be tempted to say yes but ultimately say no bc I do know I have so much of my own baggage to sort through still and I think I would constantly be trying so hard to please him and be the version of me that he likes instead of just being able to relax with my partner in crime. So...that’s that. But after class. it was pouring rain! And I had no umbrella! So I put my stussy jacket over my backpack and just went for it in the rain bc I needed to go grocery shoppping! And honestly, my groceries were not nearly as expensive as I was afraid they’d be so I really hope tomorrow night goes well for the potluck! ^_^ This is my first real opportunity to host so I want to do well! :D

And then today... it was pretty straightforward and simple. I waited a bit for the bus this morning and was afraid I’d miss pancakes but I didn’t! And it was so much better than I could’ve ever imagined! There was bacon, sausage, and two types of pancakes! And all my favorite people were there! So many people from my work or people I’ve had past classes with or different faculty members I got along with really well. I was really happy! I laughed in joy with a girl I vaguely remember and everytime someone left from our table, another person would join. And I’m really so glad and blessed to be surrounded by so many amazing people and feel so at home. Once again, I feel much more at home with the people at school than I ever have with the people at church.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Then I worked on some homework, went to History of Communication Design with Hannah, got along with a couple new people, yelled at Richard from across the room, got my questions answered, and overall, had a good time. Then I went to my e-board meeting, we had fun, fooled around, danced, and got a lot done. Then Tina and I spent some good time together just chatting it up in the weird 618/624 building hybrid room and I’m glad. I went to the 9th floor, thinking I could get my textbook hw done but unfortunately, IT WAS CLOSED. So I just went home instead. Oh! Joyce also gave Tina and I both food to take home and it was bomb.com! Anyway, my week started pretty shitty but it got progressively better and I feel both honored and blessed.

Thank you God!

[vitalmindandbody]

Haruki Murakami and Seiji Ozawa talk music, art and creativity

One writes fiction, the other conducts an orchestra, but Murakami and Ozawa share a drive, determination and a passion for music. They discuss the creative process, inspiration and the eclecticism of Mahler

Until we started these interviews, I had never had a serious conversation with Seiji Ozawa about music. True, I lived in Boston from 1993 to 1995, while he was still music director of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and I would often go to concerts he conducted, but I was just another anonymous fan in the audience. Not long after that, my wife and I happened to become friends with his daughter, Seira, and we would see and talk to her father now and then. But our acquaintance was casual and had nothing to do with either his work or mine.

Perhaps one reason we never talked seriously about music until recently is that the maestros work kept him so fully immersed. As a result, whenever we got together to have a drink, wed talk about anything other than music. At most, we might have shared a few fragmentary remarks on some musical topics that never led anywhere. Ozawa is the type of person who focuses all his energy on his work, so that when he steps away from it, he needs to take a breather. Knowing this, I avoided bringing up musical topics when I was in his company.

In December of 2009, however, Ozawa was found to have oesophageal cancer, and after major surgery the following month, he had to restrict his musical activities, largely replacing them with a challenging programme of recuperation and rehabilitation. Perhaps because of this regime, we gradually began to talk more about music whenever we met. As weakened as he was, he took on a new vitality whenever the topic turned to music. Even when talking with a musical layman such as myself, any sort of conversation about music seemed to provide the refreshment he needed. And the very fact that I was not in his field probably set him at ease.

I have been a fervent jazz fan for close to half a century, but I have also been listening to classical music with no less enjoyment, collecting classical records since I was in high school, and going to concerts as often as time would permit. Especially when I was living in Europe from 1986 to 1990 I was immersed in classical music. Listening to jazz and the classics has always been both an effective stimulus and a source of peace to my heart and mind. If someone told me that I could listen to only one or the other but not to both, my life would be immeasurably diminished. As Duke Ellington once said: There are simply two kinds of music, good music and the other kind. In that sense, jazz and classical music are fundamentally the same. The pure joy one experiences listening to good music transcends questions of genre.

During one of Ozawas visits to my home, we were listening to music and talking about one thing or another when he told me a tremendously interesting story about Glenn Gould and Leonard Bernsteins 1962 performance in New York of Brahmss First Piano Concerto. What a shame it would be to let such a fascinating story just evaporate, I thought. Somebody ought to record it and put it on paper. And, brazen as it may seem, the only somebody that happened to cross my mind at that moment was me.

When I suggested this to Ozawa, he liked the idea immediately. Why not? he said. Ive got plenty of time to spare these days. Lets do it.

To have Ozawa ill with cancer was a heart-wrenching development for the music world, for me personally, and of course for him; but that it gave rise to this time for the two of us to sit and have good, long talks about music may be one of those rare silver linings that are not in fact to be found in every cloud.

At the risk of sounding somewhat presumptuous, I confess that in the course of our many conversations, I began to suspect that Ozawa and I might have several things in common. Questions of talent or productivity or fame aside, what I mean here is that I can feel a sense of identity in the way we live our lives.

First of all, both of us seem to take the same simple joy in our work. Whatever differences there might be between making music and writing fiction, both of us are happiest when immersed in our work. And the very fact that we are able to become so totally engrossed in it gives us the deepest satisfaction. What we end up producing as a result of that work may well be important, but aside from that, our ability to work with utter concentration and to devote ourselves to it so completely that we forget the passage of time is its own irreplaceable reward.

Seiji Ozawa rehearses with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra in Salzburg, 1999. Photograph: Ali Schafler/AP

Secondly, we both maintain the same hungry heart we possessed in our youth, that persistent feeling that this is not good enough, that we must dig deeper, forge farther ahead. This is the major motif of our work and our lives. Observing Ozawa in action, I could feel the depth and intensity of the desire he brought to his work. He was convinced of his own rightness and proud of what he was doing, but not in the least satisfied with it. I could see he knew he should be able to make the music even better, even deeper, and he was determined to make it happen even as he struggled with the constraints of time and his own physical strength.

The third of our shared traits is stubbornness. Were patient, tough, and, finally, just plain stubborn. Once weve decided to do something in a certain way, it doesnt matter what anybody else says, thats how were going to do it. And even if, as a result, we find ourselves in dire straits, possibly even hated, we will take responsibility for our actions without making excuses. Ozawa is an utterly unpretentious person who is constantly cracking jokes, but he is also extremely sensitive to his surroundings, and his priorities are clear. Once he has made his mind up, he doesnt waver. Or at least that is how he appears to me.

Creative people have to be fundamentally egoistic. This may sound pompous, but it happens to be the truth. People who live their lives watching what goes on around them, trying not to make waves, and looking for the easy compromise, are not going to be able to do creative work, whatever their field. To build something where there was nothing requires deep individual concentration, and in most cases that kind of concentration occurs in a place unrelated to cooperation with others, a place we might even call dmonisch.

Still, letting ones ego run wild on the assumption that one is an artist will disrupt any kind of social life, which in turn interrupts the individual concentration so indispensable for creativity. Baring the ego in the late 19th century was one thing, but now, in the 21st century, it is a far more difficult matter. Creative professionals constantly have to find those realistic points of compromise between themselves and their environment.

What I am trying to say here is that while Ozawa and I of course have found very different ways to establish those points of compromise, we are likely headed in pretty much the same direction. And while we may set very different priorities, the way we set them may be quite similar. Which is why I was able to listen to his stories with something more than mere sympathy.

This conversation took place on 22 February 2011, in my Tokyo office. We talked a great deal about Mahler. As we spoke, I realised what an important part of Ozawas repertory the music of Mahler has been. I myself had a problem getting into Mahler for a very long time, but at a certain stage in my life the music began to move me.

Haruki Murakami: Among musicians who perform Mahler and maybe among his listeners, too there are many who think a lot about the composers life or his worldview or his times or fin-de-sicle introspection. Where do you stand with regard to such things?

Seiji Ozawa: I dont think about them all that much. I do read the scores closely, though. On the other hand, when I started working in Vienna more than 30 years ago, I made friends and started going to the art museums there. And when I first saw the work of Klimt and Egon Schiele, they came as a real shock to me. Since then, Ive made it a point to go to art museums. When you look at the art of the time, you understand something about the music. Take Mahlers music: it comes from the breakdown of traditional German music. You get a real sense of that breakdown from the art, and you can tell it was not some half-baked thing.

HM: I know what you mean. The last time I went to Vienna, I went to a Klimt exhibition at an art museum. Seeing the art in the city where it was created, you really feel it.

SO: Klimts work is beautiful and painted with minute attention to detail; but looking at it, dont you think theres something kind of crazy about it, too?

HM: Yes, its certainly not what youd call normal.

SO: Theres something about it, I dont know, that tells you about the importance of madness, or that transcends things like morality. And in fact, at the time, morality really was breaking down, and there was a lot of sickness going around.

HM: A lot of syphilis and stuff. Vienna was more or less pervaded with this kind of mental and physical breakdown: it was the atmosphere of the age. The last time I went to Vienna, I had some time to kill, so I rented a car and spent four or five days driving around the southern part of the Czech Republic the old Bohemian region where Mahlers birthplace was located, the little village of Kalischt, or Kalit as they call it now. I didnt go there on purpose, I just happened to pass through. Its still tremendously rural out there, nothing but fields as far as the eye can see. Its not that far from Vienna, but I was surprised at how different the two areas were. So Mahler came from a place like this! I thought. What a huge turnabout in values he must have experienced! Back then, Vienna was not only the capital of the Austro-Hungarian empire, it was a colourful centre of European culture and probably ripe to the point of being overripe. The Viennese must have looked upon Mahler as a real country bumpkin.

SO: I see what you mean.

Seiji Ozawa conducts Mahler Symphony No 9.

HM: And on top of that, he was a Jew. But come to think of it, the city of Vienna gained a lot of its vitality by taking in culture from its surroundings. You can see this in the biographies of Anton Rubinstein and Rudolf Serkin. Viewing it this way, its easy to see why popular songs and Jewish klezmer melodies pop up in Mahlers music all of a sudden, mixing into his serious musicality and aesthetic melodies like intruders. This diverse quality is one of the real attractions of Mahlers music. If he had been born and raised in Vienna, I doubt that his music would have turned out that way.

SO: True.

HM: All the great creators of that period Kafka, Mahler, Proust were Jews. They were shaking up the established cultural structure from the periphery. In that sense, it was important that Mahler was a Jew from the countryside. I felt that strongly when I was travelling around Bohemia.

…

Gustav Mahler in 1907. Photograph: Imagno/Getty Images

HM: Just listening to this third movement of the First Symphony, it seems pretty clear to me that Mahlers music is filled with many different elements, all given more or less equal value, used without any logical connection, and sometimes even in conflict with one another: traditional German music, Jewish music, fin-de-sicle overripeness, Bohemian folksongs, musical caricatures, comic subcultural elements, serious philosophical propositions, Christian dogma, Asian worldviews no single one of which you can place at the centre of things. With so many elements thrown together indiscriminately (which sounds bad, I know), arent there plenty of openings where a non-western conductor such as yourself can make his own special inroads? In other words, isnt there something particularly universal or cosmopolitan about Mahlers music?

SO: Well, this is all very complicated, but I do think there are such openings.

HM: I remember when we talked about Berlioz and you said that his music had openings that a Japanese conductor could exploit, because it was crazy. Cant you say pretty much the same thing about Mahler?

SO: The big difference between Berlioz and Mahler is that Berlioz doesnt put in all these detailed instructions.

HM: Ah, I see.

SO: So we performers are a lot freer when it comes to Berlioz. We have less freedom with Mahler, but when you get to those final, subtle details, I think there exists a sort of universal opening. We Japanese and other Asian people have our own special kind of sorrow. I think it comes from a slightly different place than Jewish sorrow or European sorrow. If you are willing to attempt to understand all of these mentalities, and make informed decisions after you do so, then the music will naturally open up for you. Which is to say that when an easterner performs music written by a westerner, it can have its own special meaning. I think its well worth the effort.

HM: You mean you have to dig down to something deeper than superficial Japanese emotionalism to understand it and internalise it?

SO: Yes, thats it. I like to think that a performance of western music that also makes full use of Japanese sensibilities assuming the performance itself is excellent has its own raison dtre.

HM: When Im listening to Mahler, I always think that there are deep layers of the psyche that play an important role in his music. Maybe its something Freudian. In Bach or Beethoven or Brahms, youre more in the world of German conceptual philosophy, where the rational, unburied parts of the psyche play the most important role. In Mahlers music, though, it feels as though he is deliberately plunging down into the dark, into the subterranean realm of the mind. As if in a dream, you find many motifs that contradict one another, that are in opposition, that refuse to blend and yet are indistinguishable, all joined together almost indiscriminately. I dont know whether hes doing this consciously or unconsciously, but it is at least very direct and honest.

SO: Mahler and Freud lived at just about the same time, didnt they?

HM: Yes. Both were Jewish, and their birthplaces were not far apart, I think. Freud was a little older, and Mahler came to Freud for a consultation when his wife, Alma, had an affair [with the architect Walter Gropius, whom she married after Mahlers death]. Freud is said to have been deeply respectful of Mahler. That kind of straightforward pursuit of the underground springs of the unconscious may make us cringe but I think it is probably what helps to make Mahlers music so very universal today.

SO: In that sense, Mahler rebelled single-handedly against the sturdy mainstream of German music, from Bach through Haydn to Mozart, and from Beethoven to Brahms at least until the emergence of 12-tone music.

HM: When you stop to think about it, though, 12-tone music is extremely logical, in the same sense that Bachs Well-Tempered Clavier is logical music … Twelve-tone music itself has hardly survived, but different elements of it were absorbed into the music that came afterwards … But this is really quite different from the kind of influence that Mahlers music has had on later generations. I think you can say that, dont you?

SO: I do.

HM: In that sense, Mahler was really one of a kind.

…

HM: What is the biggest difference between reading a score by Richard Strauss, for example, and reading a score by Mahler?

SO: At the risk of oversimplifying it, Id say that if you traced the development of German music from Bach through Beethoven, Wagner, Bruckner, and Brahms, you could read Richard Strauss as part of that trajectory. Of course, hes adding all kinds of new layers, but still you can read his music in that stream. But not Mahler. You need a whole new view. Thats the most important thing that Mahler did. There were also composers like Schoenberg and Alban Berg in his day, but they didnt do what Mahler did.

Portrait of Arnold Schoenberg by Richard Gerstl. Photograph: Archivo Iconografico, S.A./COR

HM: As you said a minute ago, Mahler was opening up very different areas than 12-tone music.

SO: He was using the same materials as, say, Beethoven or Bruckner, but building a whole different kind of music with them.

HM: Fighting his battles while always preserving tonality?

SO: Right. But still, in effect he was headed in the direction of atonality. Clearly.

HM: Would you say that by pursuing the possibilities of tonality as far as he could take them, in effect he confused the whole issue of tonality?

SO: I would. He brought in a kind of multilayering.

HM: Like, lots of different keys in the same movement?

SO: Right. He keeps changing things around. And hell do stuff like using two different keys simultaneously.

HM: He doesnt discard tonality, but he causes confusion from the inside, really shakes things up. Thats how he was, in effect, heading toward atonality. But was he striving for something different from the atonality of 12-tone music?

SO: Yes, it was different, I think. It might be closer to call what he was doing polytonality rather than atonality. Polytonality is one step before you get to atonality it means that you use more than one key at the same time. Or you keep changing keys as the music flows. In any case, the atonality that Mahler was aiming for came out of something quite different from the atonality and 12-tone scale that Schoenberg and Berg were offering. Later, people like Charles Ives pursued polytonality more deeply.

HM: Do you think Mahler thought he was doing something avant garde?

SO: No, I dont think so.

HM: Schoenberg and Berg were certainly very conscious of being avant garde, though.

SO: Oh, very much so. They had their method. Mahler had no such thing.

HM: So he flirted with chaos, not as a methodology, but very naturally and instinctively. Is that what youre saying?

SO: Yes. Isnt that exactly where his genius lies?

John Coltrane By Lee Friedlander.

HM: There was a development like that in jazz, too. In the 1960s, John Coltrane kept edging closer and closer to free jazz, but basically he stayed within the bounds of a loose tonality called mode. People still listen to his music today but free jazz is little more than a historical footnote. What were talking about may be kind of like that.

SO: Wow, so there was something like that in jazz?

HM: Come to think of it, though, Mahler had no clear successors. The main symphonic composers who came after him were not Germans but Soviet Russians, such as Shostakovich and Prokofiev. Shostakovichs symphonies are vaguely reminiscent of Mahler.

SO: Yes, very much so. I agree. But Shostakovichs music is very coherent. You dont feel the same kind of craziness you do in Mahler.

HM: Maybe for political reasons it wasnt easy for him to let anything like craziness come out. There is also something deeply abnormal about Mahlers music.

SO: Yes, its true. The art of Egon Schiele is like that, too. When I saw his pictures, I could really see how he and Mahler were living in the same place at the same time. Living in Vienna for a while, I got a strong sense of that atmosphere. It was a tremendously interesting experience for me.

HM: Mahler says in his autobiography that being director of the Vienna State Opera was the top position in the musical world. In order to obtain that position, he went so far as to abandon his Jewish faith and convert to Christianity. He felt the position was worth making such a sacrifice. It occurs to me that you were in that very position until quite recently.

SO: He really said that, did he? Do you know how many years he was director of the State Opera?

HM: Ten years, I think.

SO: For somebody who spent such a long time conducting opera, its amazing that he never wrote one of his own. I wonder why not. He wrote all those Lieder, and he was very conscious of the combination of words and music.

HM: Thats true, now that you mention it. Its too bad. But given the kind of person he was, it might have been hard for him to choose a libretto.

English translation copyright Haruki Murakami and Seiji Ozawa 2016. Extracted from Absolutely on Music by Haruki Murakami and Seiji Ozawa, published by Harvill Secker on 15 November at 20.00.

Read more: www.theguardian.com

The post Haruki Murakami and Seiji Ozawa talk music, art and creativity appeared first on vitalmindandbody.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2rI3Ov5 via IFTTT