#i will have to split the movie into parts when i upload it for sure

[nugatorysheep]

not me being in the process of getting frames of the SU movie, setting it to 1 fps so my PC doesnt explode, only to realize that at that low of a frame rate it didnt capture the connverse kiss at the beginning, then deleting the frames and doing it again at 2fps to make sure i grabbed that frame (I am Very Normal about fictional characters)

[kpopfanfictrash]

Elemental (M) Pt. 1

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Second Chance Romance / Modern Fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader (she/her)

Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by the knowledge that you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed; something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.

Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The person who makes you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.

A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And maybe, just maybe, you find the constraints placed on yourself don’t make sense anymore.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: death of a parent (past), some emotional abuse

NSFW Warnings: oral (woman and man), multiple orgasms (woman), fingering, hand job, face-riding, sex outdoors (in a secluded, private area), very slight ass-play, breast play

Word Count: 17,287 (32,487 total)

Author's Note: Unfortunately, the new Tumblr text editor doesn't allow for more than 1,000 paragraphs per post. Part I is here, and Part II will be uploaded shortly. Please, please, please reblog both if possible! In my experience, engagement tends to be worse when split into two parts. (also, if you haven't already realized based on the premise, Y/N does break up with Jungkook in the first part of this fic lol so, if that's something you don't want to read; fair warning!)

[ Cross-posted to Wattpad here ]

Magic, to you, has never been a boon.

Despite its romanticization in movies and stories, the reality of magic is messy and unpredictable. As dangerous as it can be fickle, your mom likes to say. Usually followed by a glance in your direction, swift enough for you not to notice, although you always do.

Either that, or an unconscious tilt her chin towards the photograph on the mantle. You aren’t sure she even realizes she does it, acting on instinct alone. The photo is of your dad, holding you on his shoulders with an ear-to-ear grin. He was the other Elemental in your family.

Even with only one magical parent, the Elemental gene tends to be passed on to children. Your dad’s magic was water, skilled in manipulating and calling forth the element. He was lauded for it, which was in itself unusual. More often, Elementals are run out of town by other humans. Although time has gone by since societal integration, there are still many who view your kind with suspicion.

You can’t say that you blame them – not really. Because again, the reality of magic is it can be dangerous. Based on experience, bad things tend to happen when you lose control.

Head tilted, you squint through the fog at your boyfriend’s apartment. For centuries, fog has been heralded as an ill omen and maybe there’s some degree of truth to it. Maybe the first speaker lived near a temperamental water Elemental, unable to keep their emotions from manipulating the weather.

Thoughts souring at how close to reality this feels, you shake your head once and some of the fog clears.

A pep talk, you think. That’s what you need to convince yourself to enter. Unseasonably chilly this late in the summer, your fingers curl into the ends of your sweater. Going inside would be preferrable to standing out in the cold, and yet you can’t manage a single step.

Better to stand in the cold than enter and shatter.

Again, you remind yourself you’re doing the right thing and again, this doesn’t help. If anything, it makes you clutch your sweater tighter. For once, you wish doing the right thing meant what’s right for you. Exhaling deeply, your eyes shut as a train passes and shakes the ground.

You began dating Jungkook three months ago and within a week, you knew it was different. You have a tendency to hide pieces of yourself, knowing most people won’t like what they find. Jungkook never allowed that to happen. The first time you ghosted, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop the next morning and asked what had gone wrong. Taken aback, you responded honestly and to your surprise, Jungkook listened.

He stayed. Stayed when others had run, cementing himself on a short list of people you can trust. Three months into dating, things have moved at once fast and slow. Fast because typically, you exit relationships long before feelings like these ones develop. Slow, because you haven’t given Jungkook every part of yourself.

Physical intimacy comes to mind. On several occasions, this has proved… difficult.

Eyes opening, you stare at the door. Memories of last night rise to the surface. For a long time, you’ve known this relationship has an end date. Knowing this doesn’t prepare you for the difficult conversation ahead.

The last time you saw Jungkook was after midnight. Fat raindrops chased your footsteps while you ran from his place, descending the subway at a record pace. The look on his face remains stuck in your mind and even now, you find the thought hard to revisit.

Imagining hurting Jungkook again is unfathomable. Stifling a gasp, you spin on your heel and march away. Halfway to the gate, you get a grip on yourself. Coming to a stop, you remind yourself this isn’t about you. Jungkook will hate you – there’s nothing to do about that now. Now, this is about Jungkook and ensuring he’s safe.

Slowly, you turn around and make your way forward. In the name of procrastination, you stop at a trash can to clean out your purse. Old receipts, gum wrappers and a crumpled-up napkin shake into the bin. You pause at the napkin, staring at the embossed name of the restaurant you work at. Or – more accurately – worked at.

Slamming the trash lid, you turn. You began work at Pierre’s Bistro two months ago as a temporary measure. Ideally, you paint but lately, inspiration has run dry. Waiting tables pays the bills, leaving time at the end of the day to stare at a blank canvas.

Pierre’s is an upscale French restaurant a few blocks down with semi-decent food and waiting tables would be fine if the owner – Pierre – weren’t a massive asshole. Now that you don’t work there, you can be honest about that. Pierre was the most sexist, elitist, capitalistic piece of shit you’ve ever had the displeasure of working for. While on his payroll, you tried to make the best of it but now, you have nothing to lose. Pierre was a dick.

A point he proved yet again last night, much to your mortification. You prefer working the lunch shift to dinner, and weekdays to weekends. Saturday nights are worst of all, and last night Pierre didn’t arrive until well after six. You were forced to cover the entire front section, picking up for a co-worker who called in sick.

Rushing from the bar, you nearly crashed into your boss removing his coat. Grabbing you by the elbow, Pierre steadied you, his hand lingering.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he joked.

You forced a smile. Experience has taught you the best thing to do in those types of situations is to smile and laugh.

“No fire. Lots of customers! Excuse me,” you said and tried to move past.

Pierre didn’t release you. If anything, his grip on you tightened until you turned your head.

“Yes?” you said, impatient.

Pierre didn’t respond, looking you slowly up and down. Eventually, he released you to take a step backwards. “Nothing,” he said carefully. “Be careful out there tonight.”

Trying not to gag on his words, you moved on. Unfortunately, it was hard to escape Pierre’s notice once caught. From that point on, each of your flaws were held under a microscope. First, it was that you didn’t fold the napkins correctly. Next, you took a wandering path from kitchen to table. Each time you entered the dining room, scornful words were covered by simpering smiles.

By the time your shift end approached, you could barely keep going. A large group had entered and, seeing the host occupied, you took it upon yourself to seat them at your last table. Fixing your apron, you hurried through the restaurant and into the kitchen.

Grabbing another table’s dishes, you thanked the cook and pushed open the door. Immediately, arms shoved you back in. Startled, you barely had time to recognize the host, Vanessa, before the doors swung shut.

“Vanessa?” you said, adjusting your grip. “What’s going on?”

Harried, she glanced over one shoulder. “Sorry,” she sighed, curly hair slipping from her messy bun. “I wanted to warn you before you went back out. Pierre is pissed.”

Your stomach sank. “Pissed… at me?”

She nodded, another dark curl escaping. “Something about saving the table up front for his friends? Bullshit, yes,” she said at your expression. “But you know how he is.”

“Yeah, I know,” you muttered. Deciding there was nothing to be done but keep moving, you hefted your plates higher. “Okay, thanks for the warning. I need to get these to table ten.”

“No problem,” she said and stepped out of your way.

You walked inside with slightly less spring in your step. Pierre lounged near the bar, surrounded by a group of people you could only assume to be friends. Although you felt his gaze on your face, you avoided him the best you could while you made your rounds. Taking the long way to the kitchen, you passed in front of the window.

Which was the moment you noticed Jungkook waiting for you on the curb. He stood beneath a streetlight, light pooling around the ends of his dark hair. When he saw you approach, his face lit up and he smiled.

Cursing beneath your breath, you smiled back. You were supposed to be done a half-hour ago, but there hadn’t been a good time yet to stop. Waving back, you mouthed, just a minute, and frantically pushed through the crowd to the back.

Merely seeing his face lifted a weight from your chest. It was easy to be around Jungkook because he liked every part of you. You never felt the urge to pretend, to curve yourself into something someone else would find pleasurable.

Well, he liked every part except one – and you were working on telling him that.

Hurrying into the staff room, you forgot your plan to avoid Pierre. You nearly jumped a mile when a hand grabbed your elbow, spinning you to face your fuming manager.

Pierre stared down his nose. “Follow me,” he snapped, releasing your arm to spin around.

He passed tables full of patrons, leading you to the bar before turning. “Y/N,” Pierre said, his voice dropping. “Are things okay tonight?”

“Yes,” you responded, deciding one-word answers were safest.

“Then why, exactly, are you fucking this up?”

Your jaw tensed. “I wasn’t aware I was doing so,” you said carefully.

“The napkins?” Pierre made a tsk-ing sound. “How many times should I say that presentation is important? Not to mention your laziness. One of your tables had to flag me down to ask for a refill. And now, you gave away the front table.” His expression darkened. “What makes you think you, a fucking waitress, can step in for a host? You sat someone at the table I personally reserved for my friends!”

You shouldn’t have responded. You should have stayed quiet and yet –

“There was no name in the book,” you muttered.

“What’s that?” Pierre waited and, when you stayed silent, shook his head. “I hadn’t had time to write their name down, but I told Vanessa, who assured me it’d happen. Of course, she wasn’t taking into consideration Y/N, the wonder waitress! Taking everyone’s jobs and making them harder.”

At your sides, your hands balled into fists. It took a greater amount of concentration than normal to keep your emotions from spilling over.

Of course, there were explanations for Pierre’s accusations. The napkins were correct before he jostled the table. You had been circulating your tables and if you were unavailable, it was because of his poor staffing. Oh, and – he didn’t make a reservation for his friends.

Slowly, you exhaled and stuffed down the responses. Deep down, with other emotions and magic. Beyond Pierre, a glass trembled but once you relaxed, the water went still.

“I apologize,” you said, not meeting his gaze. “I’ll do better next time.”

Pierre sniffed. “See that you do,” he said, brushing past. Grabbing a beer from the bar, you heard his friends burst into raucous laughter. Apparently, your humiliation was entertaining.

Heaving a small sigh, you turned – and froze where you stood.

Outside, Jungkook stared into the restaurant with murderous eyes. Too late, you realized Pierre had pulled you in front of the window. Away from anyone dining, but in full view of anyone on the sidewalk. Like your boyfriend, who witnessed the entire spectacle.

For a moment, your emotions overwhelmed, and you felt magic crack the walls you kept hidden. Embarrassment crept past your boundaries. Humiliation. Fury. Stuffing everything back, you quickly turned to rush through the tables.

Jungkook’s gaze snapped towards you, his brow furrowing. Reaching the staff room, you paced up and down. Jungkook saw you. He saw Pierre’s outburst, which meant you’d have to explain. You’d have to explain to Jungkook – the only person whose opinion you cared about – why you allowed other people to walk all over you.

He’d start to ask questions. Questions like, when was the last time you really got mad? You’d have no good response. Not because you don’t get mad, because you do. But because you don’t ever allow yourself to act on the feeling.

Faced with the prospect of brushing him off, you buried your face in both hands. Your usual excuses wore thin in your ears.

Pierre isn’t so bad. It was a one-time thing. You promise you’ll talk to Pierre tomorrow.

None of it would be true, and you didn’t want to lie to Jungkook. People never understood why you wouldn’t stand up for yourself, but the answer was complicated.

Your last date said you lacked emotions, but you don’t think that’s it. Of course, you have feelings, but those feelings are buried beneath so many layers, they can be hard to see. It’s not that you don’t feel, it’s that you cannot.

When you feel, your magic reacts, and people get hurt.

That was the last part of yourself you kept hidden. Jungkook is normal and he doesn’t know you’re an Elemental.

You know that by now, you should have said something. Obviously, but the timing was never right. Twenty-five years old, and you still aren’t sure how to broach the conversation. Few people know what you are, so you haven’t had much experience with the explanation. Your magic isn’t something you use if you can help it.

Yet another lesson you learned from your mom.

Your dad, an Elemental, died when you were five. Before, you lived near the ocean on a flat strip of sand. Your memories from before then are faint, but whenever you try, you can hear his booming laugh. Can feel the salt sting your cheeks, your mom tossing you in the air while you spun around.

Everything afterwards faded. At five years old, a hurricane swept past the barrier islands and that, you remember. You recall your mom at the door, pleading with your dad not to go as he donned his jacket. You remember him holding her hand, kissing the top of your head, and saying he’d return soon. Not many Elementals lived in your area, and even fewer had water magic.

You recall the hours passing, stretching longer and longer until dawn approached. Flashing lights followed, a woman climbing from her car to speak to your mom. You recall the sound of your mom sobbing, the policewoman’s voice floating into the house.

The storm surge was stronger than expected, but your dad managed to divert the worst. He saved the town only to be hit by a bolt of lightning. Instant death, the policewoman said, her tone implying this might be a comfort. Chest tight, your fingertips dug into the railing. Comfort meant nothing when your dad was gone. The irony struck you even back then – your dad saved others, and no one came to save him.

For weeks following, your mom was a ghost. At first, neighbors stopped by to drop off casseroles and condolences. Soon though, their sympathy stopped, and the whispers began. You were young enough not to notice, too consumed by the enormity of your own loss.

Eventually though, you noticed something was off. Suspicious eyes followed you down the sidewalk. Mothers clutched at their children, hurrying them to the side of an empty street. One day, you traipsed downstairs and overheard your mom on the phone.

She sat at the kitchen table, facing away from the staircase. You paused on the landing, listening to your aunt’s voice blast on speakerphone.

“Nonsense,” she was saying. “Your husband was a hero, and anyone saying otherwise is cracked. He saved your town!”

“I know.” Your mom blew her nose. “But now, people are wondering if he caused the storm. They’re saying maybe he… made the hurricane. It’s this new mayor,” she said, frustrated. “He hates Elementals and keeps insisting our family orchestrated this to collect money. He says –”

“Oh, no.” Your aunt sounded furious. “Don’t you repeat a single word that hateful man says.”

“He has a point, though,” your mom said, her voice low. “Did you hear about Uniontown? A fire Elemental accidentally set their barn on fire. Nearly burned the whole town. Magic is dangerous. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen, and now –”

“When was the last time your husband lost control, though? Are you saying you think he caused a hurricane?”

“God, no!” You watched your mom straighten. “But there are people saying… awful things.”

“Some people aren’t worth listening to.”

“I know.” Wearily, she exhaled. “They’re talking about Y/N, too, though. Apparently, she caused a tidal wave at the pool last weekend.”

Hearing your name said out loud, you shrank back in the shadows. You weren’t aware your mom knew about that, or that she cared. Bobby Clemmons teased Judith Bryce about her hair until finally, you snapped. Bobby was swept to the other end of the pool, much to Judith’s relief. She thanked you repeatedly.

Bobby was fine, except for some water up his nose. From the way he carried on though, you’d have thought he broke his arm.

Your mother lowered her voice, as though magic was something to be mentioned only in whispers. For the first time, a sense of shame crept over you. Your dad had always been open about magic, though stern. Stern in his belief magic should help people, not hurt. Never once did your dad insinuate magic itself was the problem.

Magic is dangerous.

Your mom’s words on the phone sank in as, your head pounding as you turned around to run up the steps. Even at six, you felt panic. If magic was dangerous and you were magical – that meant you were dangerous, too.

Slipping beneath your comforter, you stared at your shaking hands. Rain hit your windows, snowballing your worry to full-on fear. By the time your mom rushed upstairs, you were rocking under the covers as a storm raged.

She helped to calm you down, got your magic under control and a month after, you moved far away from the sea. A version of yourself vanished as you passed the pier. Despite this, you felt instant relief at the thought of control.

You remember your mom smiling when you joined the highway. “This will be good,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “A fresh start, away from it all. You can be whoever you want to be, Y/N.”

Except for the person you actually were.

Her meaning was clear, even if she didn’t say it out loud. At the time, you found the thought soothing. If you didn’t want to use magic, you didn’t have to. You never had to become your dad, who all your friends said had caused the bad storm. Even the news had turned against you.

Earth Elemental suspected behind San Raoul earthquake!

Jailed air Elemental claims innocence against onslaught of tornadoes!

Fire Elementals flee after string of arson!

Always the exclamation point. Always the lurid fascination that blame could be pinned on a single person. New rules were implemented in the house. No magic, except in your mom’s presence. This soon became no magic at all, but you didn’t mind. Whenever you did use magic, it felt wild, chaotic – the opposite of how you wanted to feel.

Your early years were marked by the struggle to conceal your powers. Years passed without incident and then, something would happen, and you’d have to move. Your mom never begrudged you, simply packed the house to travel to the next city. Each time, you promised you’d do better but by the time you realized school wasn’t for you, you had moved no less than six times.

Art was a risk, though one you found necessary.

Creation meant tapping into emotion, but you found methods of coping. Painting was the only place you loosened the reins on your magic, and so it became an outlet of sorts. A release, preventing your emotions from spilling into unwanted places.

There were other strategies, as well. Deep breathing. Counting backwards from one hundred. Focusing on one point, then on another until the magic calmed in your veins. Until you forgot the dangerous and destructive water around you.

Some people proved more reactionary to you than others. With some people, your magic responded so strongly, you were forced to cut them out completely. The first person this happened with was your best friend, Katrina. You were fourteen when she confided in you her family was fire Elementals. In response, your magic surged.

For a glorious summer, you practiced magic in secret. Each morning, you and Katrina bounded through the woods towards the far creek. You summoned great waves of water for Katrina to singe into mist. Everything was fine until late one evening, your mom caught you. She witnessed the combined magic and lost her temper.

Dragging you from the woods, your mom slammed the front door in Katrina’s face. She sat you down at the kitchen table, delivering a scolding you’ve never forgotten.

Do you know how reckless you were? What if a tree had caught fire? What if you altered the town’s water supply? What if someone saw and the next time a disaster happened, they blamed it on you – or Katrina?

Stricken by these very real possibilities, you promised not to do it again. Although you begged not to move, your mom packed the next day – your fastest exit ever.

The second time you cut someone out was after high school. Elliot was an artist, a quiet guy who dabbled with oils. He saw you painting one day in the park and silently set up his easel beside yours. This happened for weeks until he asked you out. Your ensuing romance was brief and sweet, and your feelings grew within a short period of time.

When Elliot told you he loved you, you dissolved into panic. You could feel how your magic responded, reaching for water that surged through his tiny apartment. Tossing on clothes, you stammered apologies and fled into the night.

For weeks following, it rained. Enough for the reporters to forecast local flooding. The fact terrified you – imagining people trapped on top of cars, small businesses flooded, the Red Cross called in to ferry locals to safety. It took your mom flying out to put you at ease, clearing the skies and regaining control.

Since then, you haven’t let anyone else past your inner walls. Until Jungkook.

Swallowing hard, you stare at his apartment and wonder if you’ll survive. Breaking up with Elliot is one of your worst memories and you only felt a fraction of what you do for Jungkook. Maybe you’ll conjure a hurricane, bringing the events of your life full circle.

Shutting your eyes, you rub at them dully. There’s no point in wondering what-if. You need to end it now, before things get worse. All day, you’ve gone over the facts and arrived at the same conclusion.

As expected, Jungkook was livid about Pierre last night. He wanted to confront your boss himself, although quickly backed off when he realized this was your battle. This though, turned to confusion when you said your intent to do nothing.

Although you tried the usual excuses, none of them stuck. Even if it was just once, Jungkook argued, it shouldn’t go unnoticed. You snapped slightly at this, insisting you’d deal with things in your own time.

Getting angry near Jungkook was peculiar. Suddenly, you became aware of the water around you. Thick, leaden pipes lacing Jungkook’s walls. Moisture that hung in the air, in the clouds – within his very veins. The thought terrified you, wondering what you might do accidentally.

Your panic must have been visible, because Jungkook instantly softened. Crossing the room, he pulled you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “It’s just… I hate seeing you hurt. Of course, you know what’s best. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

His grip grounded you, enough that your magic dissipated, and that you realized a truth you’d hidden for some time.

You were in love with Jungkook.

No one in your life had ever been like him. Someone who was always in your corner, who protected you when they could and lifted up parts they couldn’t. Someone who liked everything about you – even the parts you weren’t brave enough to admit.

Studying his face, you tried to ignore the sudden ache in your chest. Even last night, you knew the inevitable. Memorizing his face, you tried hard to hold on. Jungkook’s slightly rounded nose, his full bottom lip accentuated by two piercings. Dark hair fell over his forehead; strong features contrasted by a soft gaze.

Jungkook watched you as well, and you wondered if he felt the same. Wondered why he’d commit you to memory, since you were the lucky one. He was the miracle, and you were biding your time.

Bending, he lightly brushed your mouth against his. Instantly, you melted. It wasn’t your first kiss and prayed it wouldn’t be the last, but something about last night felt different. Walking the two of you backwards, Jungkook pressed you against the wall and kissed you harder. His touch became desperate, one hand sliding beneath the lines of your blouse.

Your breath hitched at the brush of his fingers, delicious and warm against skin. His touch unknotted a hidden, tangled piece of your soul.

Ever since you met Jungkook, you’d held yourself separate. When you asked him to go slow in the beginning, he agreed. Touching was fine. Kissing was fine. Anything more, and you lost control.

About a month into dating, you met Jungkook at a bar and got tipsy. Three drinks in, you were frantically making out in an alley outside. Jungkook panted, “my place?” against your mouth, and you nodded. The journey back to his place was fast and slow, pausing in every dark place to drag his mouth to yours.

The second his door shut, you found yourself stumbling – into his bedroom, his bed, the confines of his heart. Shoes were discarded with every step, and Jungkook couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. You returned his fervor in spades, nipping his lower lip to watch him smile.

When he fell back on the bed, you saw his pulse quicken. Staring up at you, Jungkook watched your clothing disappear with a gaze so dark, it bordered on onyx. Climbing onto him, you resumed kissing with a newfound reverence. Eyes falling shut, you did your best to stay present.

Each brush of his lips was combustive, each touch of his hands filling you with sharp, pulsing light. And then –

The sink and shower in his bathroom burst on.

Startled, you pulled away and realized it had been you. Your magic had caused it, flooding his bathroom with water. Swearing under his breath, Jungkook scrambled out of bed to hastily turn off both faucets.

You sat there on his bed, heart pounding with fear. By the time he returned, you were already dressed and mortified. Jungkook was all apologies, certain he’d moved too fast, but you assured him he hadn’t. Anything that happened, you were an equal participant – too much maybe, although you didn’t say so out loud.

Lying in bed that night, you stared up at your ceiling. For a moment, it felt as though you were six and under the covers at your old house. Magic was dangerous. You would eventually hurt someone. Dread pooled in your stomach, recognizing the truth. If you couldn’t control your magic around Jungkook, you’d have to end things.

Heartache chased the thought, filling you with so much panic, you nearly drowned. Pushing this aside, you simply resolved to do better. To be better and keep both Jungkook and magic. This was simply another challenge; you owned your magic, not the other way around.

Thus, began the two best and worst months of your life. The best, since you’ve been dating Jungkook and the worst, because at every moment, you’re terrified of hurting him. Walking a line as thin as a razor, you’ve fallen in love while trying your best not to feel.

Until last night, you thought you’d been successful. Life was mostly under control, but then the Pierre debacle took place. Then Jungkook kissed you with such intensity, you forgot who you were and why you’d been holding back. Two long months of restraint and suddenly, you came undone at the seams.

Before long, you were again in his bedroom. Jungkook stripped off his clothes, bare skin pressing to yours with a searing intensity. Pulling you over him, a low hiss escaped while he kissed your throat. Even through his boxers, you could feel how hard Jungkook was. How badly he wanted this; a need you returned.

The thought of him inside you made you frantic. Pushing Jungkook onto his back, you straddled his waist and rocked forward.

Jungkook lay underneath you, his hair a dark halo. Suddenly, you could feel water everywhere. Magic, everywhere – it was in you, around you, in Jungkook’s walls and molecules. Everything felt so utterly fragile, and your magic responded.

Ferocious, it strained at your self-crafted bonds. Realizing how precarious your grasp on control was, your emotions slipped into panic.

You had to leave. Now.

Sensing the change in your body, Jungkook paused.

“I – I’m sorry,” you blurted, scrambling off him. Bending for your pants, you pushed one leg through and hastily zipped. “I need to go.”

Jungkook stared, frozen in place. “I…” Shaking his head, he pushed a hand through his hair. “What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

Stomach dropping, you roughly shook your head. Part of you ached to correct him but your magic was barely leashed, and you weren’t certain how much longer it’d hold.

Your magic wasn’t something you wanted Jungkook to see.

Frantically throwing on your shirt, you rushed towards his front door. His dog, Bam, whined from the couch and lifted his head as you passed. Yanking open his door, you escaped to the hall and downstairs. You heard Jungkook call after, but he didn’t follow, for which you were grateful.

Remembering his face broke your heart as you entered the subway. You kept your magic at bay until reaching your building, at which point rain swept the city in waves. Soaked through, you got in the elevator and saw Jungkook had texted. Shaking, you responded you’d talk to him tomorrow and turned off your phone.

Rain poured all night and you barely slept. By the time you woke, your mood had gotten worse. Work was torture. Even the lunch shift couldn’t save you, the looming specter of Jungkook impossible to forget. When Pierre showed up around one, you knew you were doomed. His glower could be felt all the way across the restaurant and no matter what you did, you somehow stayed in his way.

With little to no sleep and haunted by last night, the grip on your magic was tentative at best. Your entire shift, it hovered at the edge of your fingers. When Pierre commented you looked tired, the rain outside worsened. When a table of middle-aged men called you ‘girlie,’ their water glasses shook.

It was miraculous nothing happened until the end of your shift. That was the moment Pierre’s friends arrived, seating themselves at the table you gave away last night. One of them laughed as you poured them water, and you managed to push down your snide remark.

Glasses full, you turned around to go and the same one grabbed your waist.

You went still.

For so long, you’ve hidden your magic to protect others. You’ve kept them from hurting and there you were, broken, and no one cared about you. Just like no one cared about your dad, in the end. Teeth gritted, you whirled – and the entire water pitcher dumped itself at him.

At him, not on him.

You didn’t trip. Didn’t throw the water, although either would have been preferrable. Instead, the water leapt from the pitcher to slap the man in the face.

Horrified, you stared as reality sunk in. You had just assaulted a guest – a friend of Pierre’s, at that.

Shocked, the man wiped water down his visage. The entire restaurant fell silent, every eye in the room locked on you. Panic-stricken, you stammered an apology, flung a napkin on the table and fled into the kitchen.

The moment you crashed through the doors, you were hailed a hero. Izumi, your line cook, wistfully recalled the one time she punched a guy who grabbed her ass. Georgina added that once, she spit in the drink of a man who called her a bitch.

Both tactfully avoided the fact that you were an Elemental, which you appreciated. You were starting to feel marginally better – maybe you wouldn’tbe fired, after all – when the door to the kitchen swung open and Pierre stormed through. Seeing his face, your heart sank.

“You!” Spittle flew from his lips as he pointed. “Y/N – pack your things! You’re done here. Fired. You think you can insult my friend, pull some magic bullshit on him, and continue to work here? Fuck that. Get out – now!”

A pin could have been heard in the silence. Coming to your senses, you did exactly as asked and got your things. Pierre hadn’t mentioned pressing charges, and you didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

Outside, you stood on the sidewalk and stared at the bus stop. Storm clouds brewed above, a visualization of your inner turmoil. Eventually, you turned and trudged down the subway.

Things had reached a point you couldn’t ignore anymore. You were beyond out of control. Emotions surged and strained against your internal walls, threatening everyone you held dear. The city didn’t deserve to be punished, even if no one within it knew of your sacrifice. Pierre’s friends were awful, but you could’ve just as easily lost your temper with someone you loved.

Someone like Jungkook, whom you couldn’t seem to be around without incident.

That was the reason most people feared Elementals. It was selfish of you to put your desires ahead of another person’s safety. The only way to protect someone you loved was to stay away.

Starting with Jungkook. You just wished he didn’t have to get hurt in order for that to happen.

Standing outside his building, you take a deep breath and press the buzzer. You wait for several long moments, wondering if he’s home and then –

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Leaning in, you press 316. “Hey. It’s me. Y/N.”

A weighted pause, and then –

“Come in.”

The door unlocks, and you push it inside. Climbing the steps to his place, your heart starts to pound. The last time you saw Jungkook, you were running away. The last text he sent was, ‘ok,’ in response to your message. If you were Jungkook, you wouldn’t be thrilled to see you.

Coming to a stop outside 316, you lift your hand and knock. A howl responds, followed by the patter of gigantic dog footsteps. Unable to stop your smile, you shake your head at the chaos.

“It’s just me, Bam!” you say, and he stops.

Bam’s howl is replaced with a whine and the sharp thwack-thwack of his tail on the door.

“Bam, out of the way,” Jungkook calls, his voice coming closer. A few seconds later, the door flies open to reveal your boyfriend.

You only catch a glimpse before Bam barrels out, nearly knocking you over. Legs and tail akimbo, he slobbers all over until you bend to pet him. Once satisfied, Bam turns around and trots back inside.

Silence falls between you, and you look up to see Jungkook. He’s dressed casually, sweatpants and a t-shirt bought at a concert you attended. He hasn’t moved aside, blocking you from entering.

Uncertain, you straighten. “Can I come in?”

Slowly, he nods and moves. You walk past him, trying not to focus on the heat of his shoulder. This might be the last time you see Jungkook, so you try to focus on that. Not the prospect of what you’re about to do.

Hearing the door shut, you take a deep breath and turn to face him. “I can’t stay too long,” you admit, digging your nails into the palms of your hands.

Jungkook regards you warily. His expression makes your chest ache, unused to him with such a stern expression. After last night, you suppose it’s earned. You should probably get used to it.

“Y/N.” His jaw works. “What’s going on?”

Deciding honesty is the best policy – up to a point – you force out your next words. “I think we should break up,” you say in a rush.

With a low whine, Bam slinks in the direction of the bedroom. Jungkook glances at him, distracted, before facing forward.

“What do you mean?” His head tilts. “Like, you want to take a break?”

Steeling yourself, you shake your head. “No. As in, I want to break up. Permanently.”

A train passes by the building, rumbling the floorboards underneath. Most people would avoid living in this building for that reason, but Jungkook was overjoyed by the prospect of discounted rent.

He doesn’t seem overjoyed now, though. Instead, he looks stricken.

“Walk me through this,” Jungkook says, walking closer. The set of his mouth has turned stubborn. “I don’t follow. Why are we breaking up again?”

The knot in your chest tightens. You should have known Jungkook wouldn’t make this easy on you. “We’re not good together,” you say, only to correct yourself. “I mean, I’m not good for you. I’m not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

He comes to a stop. “I can wait, Y/N. I don’t mind.”

Reaching for you, Jungkook’s brows crease when you take a step backwards. His hand falls between you, and he stares at the empty space. The crack in your heart widens, made worse by his silence.

“I mind, though,” you force yourself to say. “I can’t ask you to wait for me, Jungkook. That’s not fair to either of us. It’s too much pressure.”

The words make your heart splinter, reaching a point you aren’t sure can be reassembled. Maybe the pieces will simply lodge in your muscle, bruising your insides each time you draw breath.

“I won’t pressure you,” Jungkook says, automatic. His frown deepens. “Tell me what this is really about, Y/N. Is this about sex? It’s fine if we don’t have it.” Stepping closer, he takes your hand and you let him. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

Somewhat manic, you shake your head – and then nod.

Sex is a part of the problem, but it’s not the root cause. Sex with Jungkook is unthinkable. You can barely remain in control when you kiss, let alone allow more. With your past partners, this wasn’t an issue, but your past partners weren’t Jungkook.

Never have you met someone able to scramble your thoughts with a kiss. Whose gaze melted inhibitions and tore down every wall. You have little doubt that with Jungkook, you’d lose full control, and the thought is terrifying. Already, your makeshift barriers are weakened.

Rain splatters against the window, and your stomach lurches.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Jungkook says, returning your attention to him. “What’s this about? I can tell something’s on your mind.”

He takes your other hand, and you realize how close he stands. “Is it work?” Jungkook asks, a crease between brows. “Is there… some reason you can’t quit? You can tell me, Y/N.”

An odd zing of disappointment goes through you. For a moment, you thought Jungkook had guessed your secret, and this could all be avoided. If Jungkook knew what you were and that you lied to him – well, he’d end things for you. Hesitant, you consider revealing that truth but can’t seem to form words. It would devastate you, seeing fear replace love in his eyes.

“Work isn’t the problem,” you say at last. “It’s us, Jungkook. Or – it’s me. I don’t want to be together anymore.”

Disbelief flashes across his expression, and you idly wonder what will happen if Jungkook refuses. Even as you think this though, his expression shifts. Jungkook takes a careful step backwards, dropping your hands entirely.

He’s never been good at hiding emotion. Jungkook is your opposite in that way, revealing every shift of thought and desire. You watch confusion become anger, then bitterness a moment before he turns away. The set of his shoulders is still, staring out the window as yet another train passes.

Restless, he turns to drag a hand through his hair. “I don’t believe you,” he declares. “This is so out of nowhere, Y/N. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m telling you everything,” you say, panic rising. “And this isn’t out of nowhere! I’ve been telling you for months I need to take things slow and this – well, this is the opposite of slow, Jungkook!”

Jungkook stares back at you, heated. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, the tension thick in between you. Eventually, you look away first and pull your bag tighter.

“Right,” you exhale. “Well, I should go –”

Striding forward, Jungkook reaches you to cup your face with both palms. Gently, he lifts your face towards him, and all thoughts cease completely. Gaze searching, his breath fans across your parted lips.

Jungkook’s gaze intensifies. “I don’t believe you,” he murmurs.

Adrenaline zips under your skin, stirring your magic into a deadly storm. Entire body tense, you suppress the urge to fight or flee. So often, you’re the one running but right now, you feel more compelled to fight.

A knife in you twists, knowing you’re a coward. If you were stronger, you could keep Jungkook. No matter how understanding he is, the fact remains that if he stays with you, Jungkook remains in danger. Each passing day only worsens the pain.

His face blurs. With a start of surprise, you realize there are tears on your cheeks. The furrow between Jungkook’s brows deepens, noticing as well.

“You’re not listening,” you blurt. “I can’t see you any longer, Jungkook. It’s in your best interest, I promise – I can’t do this. It’s too much.”

Reaching up, you remove his hands from your face and head for the door.

Jungkook follows close behind. “Which is it, then?” he demands. “You want me to go slowly, or you feel too much?”

Pressure weighs every inch of your skin, demanding you answer. Anything that comes out now will only make things harder. Reaching the door, you feel Jungkook’s hand on your shoulder. Caving, you don’t fight when Jungkook turns you to face him.

He’s too close to you. Too much and too close, his one hand sliding to cup the back of your neck. Slowly, his thumb strokes the elongated line of your throat. You swallow, hard, and his gaze follows the motion.

Jungkook’s gaze flicks to yours. “You keep saying you’re no good for me,” he says, his voice low. “But what if I don’t care? Don’t I get a say in this decision?”

The force of holding in your magic worsens, becoming near impossible. Hastily built walls threaten to collapse, and reality blurs between one moment and the next.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, your hand searching behind you. “I have to go.”

Finding the doorknob, you twist and stumble backwards. Jungkook watches you go, the look on his face physically painful as you turn around. Each second that follows is pure concentration, trying not to break before getting outside.

The ocean is only a few blocks from Jungkook’s apartment.

Reaching the harbor, rain pelts your face in a way that feels punishing. Magic makes your limbs tremble, escaping your body in wisps of fog and rain. The moment you arrive at the harbor, you shatter, collapsing forward to grip your knees with both hands.

Eyes pressed tightly shut, you hear the storm howl. Waves churn the harbor, sloshing over the sidewalk in an attempt to get closer. No tidal waves, you plead in an attempt at reason. No whirlpools, no water spouts.

Your magic listens in this regard, at least. By the time your eyes open, a curtain of rain mingles with tears on your cheeks. Staring out at the ocean, each inch of your body is numb.

Jungkook will never forgive you for this.

The thought banishes all the rest. You can’t say that you blame him. Slowly, you exhale as you lift your gaze. The chasm in your chest widens, becoming something unbreachable. This is all your fault. You wish there was some satisfaction in knowing this, but there isn’t.

Eventually, the rain dulls, and you push yourself upright. Your sneakers squish with every step, the silence all-encompassing as you ride on the subway. Entering the building, you remove your shoes and collapse on your bed, fully clothed. Thankfully, your roommate isn’t home, so you aren’t forced to explain the events of tonight. Seokjin would have wanted to discuss, and you aren’t sure you can without breaking down.

Burrowing your face into the pillows, you manage to cry yourself asleep. Rain doesn’t let up the entire night.

“Tell me again.” Taking a seat at the table, Seokjin spoons yogurt and berries into his mouth. “Why did you have to end things with your boyfriend?”

Cracking open one eye, you glare from where you sit, slumped forward. “You know why, Seokjin,” you grumble. “Not all of us can be air Elementals in perfect control of their magic.”

“You could be, though,” he says, pointing with his spoon. “If you put in like, five seconds of training and embraced your water powers instead of running away whenever things got bad.”

“I am not running.”

“No.” Seokjin lifts a brow. “You’re cowering, which is far less attractive.”

“I’m not cowering, either.” Scowling, you bury your head deeper into your arms. “I’m wallowing. Big difference.”

Scoffing, his spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl. Pushing his chair back to stand, Seokjin heads for the sink and turns on the tap. The water itches a spot deep in your chest, almost taunting.

“I can’t be too hard on you, though,” Seokjin says as he cleans. “You did get fired and dumped in one day – that’s pretty rough.”

“Does it count as being dumped if I did the dumping?”

“I’ll allow it.” He opens the dishwasher. “But only because really, you didn’t want to break up with Jungkook. You’ve just convinced yourself the world is better off without you – something I highly disagree with, by the way, but can’t fault you for feeling. It’s too sad.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, and close your eyes.

Two days have gone by since your decision to end your relationship with Jungkook. It hasn’t been great, to put things mildly. On Monday, you barely left your room and rain poured from the sky. When you did enter the kitchen, the weather person on Channel 9 predicted local flooding.

Seokjin arrived from his business trip that night, took one look at your face and helped stop the storm. You sagged with relief, falling into a fitful round of sleep that only lasted three hours.

Seokjin is one of the few Elementals you know who embraces their power. Both his parents are air Elementals, and he was raised to take over their magical consulting business. Said business does well, leading Seokjin to own a gorgeous, three-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He got bored last winter, decided to post for a roommate and here you are. One of the few people in the city willing to room with an Elemental.

You don’t care what Seokjin does with his magic, although his laissez-faire attitude can occasionally be unnerving. You’ve lived your entire life with the assumption your existence is dangerous. All you need is a quick Google search to reinforce this fact. But then there’s Seokjin, living his life, seemingly none the worse for the wear.

He discovered your powers about a month into rooming together. Coming back from a trip, Seokjin opened the door to stare, slack-jawed, as plates washed themselves in the sink. Glancing up from your book at the table, you immediately sent two dishes crashing onto the floor.

Seokjin stared at this for a moment, then looked up. “You owe me new plates,” he declared and walked into his bedroom. After a moment, he popped his head out. “Hey – you think if we combined my wind and your water, we could create a waterspout but on land?”

“That’s… a tornado, Seokjin.”

“Right.” He slapped the doorframe once and disappeared. “Well, something to think about!”

Months later, Seokjin still doesn’t understand your avoidance of magic, but respects the decision enough to leave it alone. At least, until something like this happens and he’s again at a loss.

“Listen.”

Turning around, he shuts the dishwasher with his hip.

“Oh, no.” You grimace. “What now?”

Seokjin raises both hands. “Nothing, nothing. Far be it from me to comment on your mistakes. I’m sorry – did I say mistakes? I meant, ‘learned life experience.’ Through mistakes.”

“Was there a question in all that?”

“No question.” Loosely, he gestures. “Just wanted to say you can stay here, rent-free, until you figure this out. You know I’m only taking your money because you insist. I don’t need it. This place is already paid for.”

“Only because you frightened the seller so badly, they cut the price in half.”

“Listen.” Seokjin’s smile turns slightly sinister. “If they were willing to let their ingrained fear of Elementals influence their selling point, that’s on them. Not me.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh and sit back. “But seriously – thank you. This will give me some time to come up with a plan.”

Seokjin nods, tracing the rim of his coffee. Absently, he glances down the hall at the empty third bedroom. “You know…”

“No,” you say, automatic.

His right brow lifts. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest I use this time off to work on my art.”

“Okay.” Seokjin shrugs. “Maybe you did know. But seriously, Y/N – why not?”

Weary, you exhale. “Because every time I try to paint, I get this… block. I can’t explain it. Watercolors used to be the one place I felt comfortable using my magic. Now… I don’t know. I can’t seem to use my magic anywhere. Even my art.”

Seokjin tilts his head, thoughtful. “How long has this been going on?”

“Don’t know – a few months?”

“Not long after you started dating Jungkook.”

Staring at Seokjin, you realize he’s right. That’s exactly around when you began dating Jungkook. The block happened not long after. Thinking about the early days of dating are painful though, and so you choose not to.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you declare with a shake of your head. “Right now, what I need is a job. And to earn money. Preferably in that order.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch. “Let me know if the order changes. I know a guy.”

Before you can consider his offer too seriously, your phone rings on the table. Glancing down, your heart constricts at your mom’s name. It isn’t that you don’t want to talk. It’s that if you do, Jungkook’s name will come up, and you’ll be forced to explain why you two aren’t together. Right now, you’re managing to cope by avoiding the topic. You aren’t sure what will happen if you’re forced to confront it.

Not to mention the very real possibility your mom will be happy. She liked Jungkook, but she always worries whenever someone new enters your life.

Also glancing at your phone, Seokjin scowls. “Don’t answer it,” he says, walking past. “Whenever you talk to your mom, things get even worse.”

Seokjin’s not wrong. Your mom means well – really, she does – but talking to her tends to leave you exhausted. Still, you know from experience it’s better to answer now.

“I know,” you sigh and stand up. “But if I don’t pick up now, she’ll just keep calling. Hey,” you say, pressing answer. “One second, mom.”

Ignoring Seokjin’s sad shake of his head, you scoop up your coffee and head for your bedroom.

Closing the door to your room, you lean backwards. “Hi, mom,” you say, lifting your phone to your ear. “Sorry about that. I was eating breakfast. How are you?”

“Oh, you know,” your mom says, and you can practically hear her smile. “Same old, same old. The better question is, how are you? I saw on the weather there’s some flooding by you. Hope you’re alright!”

Grimacing, you move the phone to speaker. You should have known your mom would check in. Reading between the lines of her question, you can hear what she’s really asking. Your mom wants to know if you caused the flooding – an answer which is undeniably yes, but she doesn’t have to know that.

Setting down your half-empty mug, you flop face-first on your bed. Less information tends to be more with your mom. You’re debating what to say when she solves the problem for you.

“I know you haven’t had a slip in years,” she continues. “But if there’s another water Elemental in town, you should try to steer clear of them! Being around them could set you off – that’s what happened to Becky’s nephew, she said.”

Fighting an eye roll, you roll on your back. Becky Mayweather is your mom’s best friend in the entire world and one of your least favorite people. She’s the type to bake cookies, offer a shoulder to cry on – and then promptly turn and gossip to the neighbors about it. She fancies herself an Elemental expert because a few of her friends married them. Funnily enough, neither you nor your mom have met these friends in person.

“Oh?” you ask. “I never noticed.”

“It’s true! You know that I worry, Y/N. All alone in the city with another Elemental for a roommate…”

Annoyance spikes in your stomach. “His name is Seokjin, and I’m an Elemental too, mom. His mom could say the same thing about me.”

Seokjin’s mom could be saying that, but she wouldn’t because Seokjin’s mom and dad are both magic enthusiasts. The few times you met them, they were nothing but kind.

“Oh, Y/N.” Your mom sighs. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Watch your tone,” she says. “I’m only telling the truth. You work hard on controlling your magic. Your roommate, on the other hand, uses his magic willy-nilly. In broad daylight! You two couldn’t be more different.”

Your mom isn’t wrong about that, although not for the reason she thinks. Seokjin does use his magic freely, but you’re the one at risk of hurting others – not him.

“Seokjin is a good guy,” you say tightly. “He’s letting me stay here, rent-free, while I search for another job.”

“Another job?” Her voice pitches. “What happened to the job at that restaurant?”

Cursing yourself for your own stupidity, you close your eyes. “Um… I was let go. Difference of opinions with management.”

“Oh. Well. That’s too bad, Y/N, I’m sorry. It’s probably for the best – you don’t want to be working for someone you don’t respect, right?”

Some of your anger lessens at her genuine sympathy. It’d be easy to paint your mom as the villain but truthfully, she comes from a good place. You know that she loves you; she just doesn’t want to lose you the same way she lost your dad.

Exhaling deeply, you reach to grab a pillow. “I’ve been trying to paint,” you say. “It hasn’t been going well.”

“No?”

You frown at the obvious joy in her voice.

“Yeah,” you admit.

“Well…” Your mom draws the word out. “We always knew art was a risky hobby, Y/N. Painting. With watercolors. Something could easily go wrong and put you in danger.”

“I know, mom.”

“Actually,” she adds, her excitement growing. “Maybe this is a sign. Y/N – what if this means your powers are weakening?”

Your entire body goes still. “What?”

“Yes!” she says, oblivious to the panic in your voice. “You always loved watercolors because they made sense to you, right? Because of your… well, magic. What if a block means your powers are growing weaker? I wonder if other Elementals ever lose touch with their magic. I’ll have to ask Becky.”

Irrational anger surges within, and you hear the faucet in your bathroom turn on. Hastily, you work to turn it back off.

“You don’t need to do that,” you blurt. “I’ll research it myself. Actually, I should get going – I wanted to apply for some jobs this morning.”

“Oh, yes – good call, honey. You go and apply. Let me know if you need help. Becky has connections with the local university. I’m sure someone could help you update your resume – or even apply, if that sounds interesting to you.”

“Thanks,” you say, although it absolutely does not. “That’s a nice offer.”

“Have a good day, honey – I love you!”

“Love you, too,” you say before hanging up.

Dropping the phone onto your bed, you hug your pillow tightly. It takes several long minutes to relax, wading your way through an anxious sea of thought. Although your mom means well, conversations with her tend to leave you feeling drained. Since you were young, it’s felt like your mom has an idea of the perfect child, and they aren’t you.

Eventually, you stand to bring your mug to the kitchen. Seokjin is busy making another pot of coffee, the delicious scent wafting overhead.

Passing him by, you eye this warily. “Isn’t that your third pot this morning?”

“And?” Seokjin reaches for his mug. “You’ve had three cups yourself.”

“Touché,” you sigh, collapsing on the couch.

Minutes later, Seokjin enters the living room and hands you a mug.

Staring into the drink, you say, “Thanks.”

Settling onto the sofa, Seokjin examines you over the rim of his coffee. You ignore him, taking a long sip of your drink. A summer breeze wafts through the window, and with a flick of his wrist, Seokjin sends it back out.

A stab of envy goes through you, although you know it’s irrational. Seokjin always makes magic look easy, but you’ve never found it to be so. Maybe when you were younger, before the crippling fear and anxiety had a chance to set in. The only time magic ever felt normal was when you painted and now, you can’t even do that.

Thinking about painting makes you think about Jungkook though, causing the dull thud in your chest to become a sledgehammer. You miss him. Miss the easy way Jungkook made you laugh. How he insisted on constantly touching some part of your body.

Cupping your mug of coffee, you take another sip and sink into the sadness.

“Far be it from me to dole out advice.” Seokjin interrupts your tiny pity party. “But I think you’re going about this the wrong way.”

Too exhausted to argue, you merely exhale. “What’s the right way, then?”

His head tilts. “I don’t know. But I find it weird your block appeared around the same time you started dating Jungkook. You’ve…” Seokjin hesitates, and you recognize his how-do-I-put-this-delicately face. “You’ve given up a lot over the years, Y/N. Maybe this time, you gave up more of yourself than you realized.”

Silently, you wonder whether he’s right. For too long, you’ve gone through the motions of life without really living. Too scared of letting people in, scaring them off, of being yourself. Perhaps giving up Jungkook will be the final straw. The thought doesn’t comfort you, and you have no response.

After a moment, Seokjin turns on the TV. The morning slips by, though you can’t help but think about his earlier comments – could you control your magic if you tried harder? The moment you think this, you instantly banish the thought. You’ve been attempting for months, and nothing has worked.

With this cheery thought, you allow yourself to sink further into melancholy. Only this time, the water rushing overheard isn’t your friend. You aren’t sure it ever was.

Wednesday morning, you leave the apartment in a haze. You thought that by today, things would be better but if anything, the situation seems to be worse.

Missing Jungkook is painful.

It hurts more than you thought, which might sound stupid, but that doesn’t make it any less true. When you and Elliot broke up, it was sad, but you knew it was for the best and that lessened some of the pain. Now though, each beat of your heart prevents the wound from closing. A tentative scab in one second, only to be torn open the next.

Jungkook always sent you good morning texts. Not because he was up before you, but because he went to bed so late, it was only an hour or two before you awoke. His words were the first thing you read in the morning, smiling sleepily at his rambling. Sometimes, Jungkook would include a late-night snack recipe. Always, he’d end with something he liked about you.

His silence is deafening. Something not even your favorite coffee shop can fix, although you try. Standing in line, you aimlessly flip through songs on your phone. Today, you promised Seokjin you’d attend at least two interviews. The first one is in an hour at a sushi restaurant. Before then, you plan to load up on caffeine and organize your thoughts.

When the line moves forward, you flip to your messages. No new texts. Unsurprising, but it rends the scab in your heart anew.

Facing forward, you remove an earbud to order. “Hi,” you say, mustering a smile. “I’ll have an iced americano with rose syrup.”

“Got it.” The barista barely looks up. “That all?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Want a receipt?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.” She nods. “That’ll be ready soon at the end of the counter.”

Nodding your thanks, you replace the ear pod. Cranking your music louder, you wait for your coffee and lean against the counter. The coffee shop is tiny, empty for a weekday after the morning rush. Aimless, you glance over the clustered tables.

Your thoughts are on Jungkook before they can be stopped. You wonder what he's doing, what he’s wearing, whether he’s blocked your number yet from his phone.

A talented graphic designer, Jungkook works mostly on commission and on his own time. He does well for himself – enough to afford rent on his own place. Your mutual creative streak was something you had in common. Not your sleeping hours, that’s for sure.

Jungkook usually slept until nine or ten, then went to the gym before he made breakfast. You used to tease him about that, saying he couldn’t call it breakfast if –

Your heart falters. Jungkook must be on your mind since you seem to have hallucinated him here, at the coffee shop. You blink once, and then twice, but the mirage doesn’t fade, and you’re forced to conclude Jungkook is actually here.

Unfolding himself from a chair, he heads in your direction. Panicked, you glance at the counter, then back up. Your coffee hasn’t finished, which means that you’re trapped. Straightening, you do your best to seem natural and are certain you fail. Jungkook doesn’t just look natural, he is so as he approaches. At least, until you notice his hands in his pockets.

Jungkook does this when he’s nervous. Likely, he’s playing with the inside pocket lining. It hurts, knowing him so well, and not being his. When Jungkook comes to a stop, you stand mere inches apart.

“Jungkook,” you say, his name punched from your diaphragm.

He nods. “Hey.”

Uncertain, you glance down at the counter to check for your drink. Still nothing and, looking back, you tilt your head. “What are you doing here?”

Jungkook’s hands go deeper, if possible. “Getting coffee. Is that allowed?”

Your lips press together. “Sure. Theoretically, you can get coffee. What I’m asking though, is why you chose this coffee shop, five blocks away from your place. Usually, you’re not awake before noon.”

His expression is inscrutable. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah.”

The silence between you lengthens, and not in a good way. You know why you’re quiet but can’t tell what Jungkook is thinking. You suppose that it’s possible he woke up early, forgot this was your favorite shop and went on a long walk for coffee – it’s possible, but unlikely.

At last, Jungkook exhales. “Alright, fine. I wanted to see you.”

“Y/N?”

Both of you turn at the sound of your name. Glancing between the two of you, the barista seems to pick up a weird vibe, dropping the cup to hurry away. Grateful for the interruption, you reach for your coffee and attempt to reset.

It’s not fair of Jungkook, corning you like this. You were already forced to end this once – unfair, making you do so again. Breaking up with him once was barely possible; twice is unthinkable.

“Don’t you have anything else to say?”

His voice interrupts your train of thought and, gripping your drink tightly, you turn.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Like, I don’t know.” His brow furrows, frustration obvious. “Anything, Y/N.”

Behind the counter, the barista fills a tea kettle to set this on the stove. You watch it instead of Jungkook, unsure how you’re going to do this again. The pressure of the water boiling is near tangible, mimicking the internal state of your mind.

Biting your tongue, you decide a safe exit is best. Jungkook will get the hint without you being forced to break his heart. Counting backwards from ten, you exhale and attempt to walk past.

“I’m sorry you came all this way,” you say in a murmur.

You’re nearly past Jungkook when you hear a soft swear. Only one more step happens before his hand grips your elbow.

“Y/N, please,” Jungkook breathes, turning you towards him.

Your gaze lifts and you start at his obvious pain. Staring back, Jungkook searches your face for something unspoken. Whatever he seeks, he must find it, since determination enters his.

You tear your gaze away. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Jungkook.”

“I want to know if you were serious about breaking up.”

He’s still holding your elbow.

You must notice this at the same time, but neither of you move. Your gaze returns to his, drawn like a magnet and you realize your mistake when you can’t look away. Romeo’s line about Julie being the sun comes to mind, making sudden sense. You orbit around Jungkook, whether you like it or not.

In the background, a tea kettle whistles. “I meant what I said, Jungkook,” you say, forcing yourself to speak first. “I’m not good for you.”

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “But why,” he demands, frustration seeping through. You can hear in his voice the long nights of desperation, of little sleep in your absence. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Y/N. What did I do?”

A chasm in your chest opens, hating how easily he jumps to self-doubt. Before you can think better of it, you move closer.

“Nothing,” you say, one hand on his arm. “You did nothing wrong, Jungkook. I’m just not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

“But why not?” His gaze sharpens. “Everything was fine between us until Sunday.”

“Everything was not fine.”

Jungkook pauses, then barrels on. “When you say you can’t be in a relationship… what you’re really saying is you can’t be in a relationship with me.”

“With anyone,” you correct, although you aren’t sure that’s the truth.

Your magic has never been this temperamental. Possibly because this is the first time you’ve fallen in love. Dating someone not Jungkook would be safer, but the thought is abhorrent.

If you can’t have Jungkook, you don’t want anyone. That will be your punishment. Jungkook will move on, fall in love, and be happy with another person. Not you. No one else will compare, and if you can’t now, you doubt you’ll move past this crippling fear.

“You keep telling me that,” Jungkook says, growing heated. “But I’m the one you’re breaking up with, so it’s a little bit about me. You need to give me something, Y/N. Is this about your past? I know you don’t like to talk about your childhood, but I want to know.”

A loud buzzing fills your ears, gaze darting around. You haven’t told Jungkook much about your family, not wanting to invite questions about being an Elemental. The thought of him guessing sparks panic again, and the tea kettle on the stove whistles louder.

“People in my past hurt me,” you say in a rush. Magic itches beneath your skin, begging for escape. “That’s part of it, but not all.”

“What’s all, then?”

Frustration seeps past the wall, and several things happen. Your magic lashes out, a loud noise makes you jump, and the tea kettle shatters while hitting the floor. Water sloshes across the tile, steam hissing as the barista jumps back with a yelp.

Startled, you whirl around. One barista turns off the stove, another grabs a towel while a third finds a broom. Luckily, none of them seem injured – the tea kettle missed their skin. Taking a half-step towards them, you force yourself to stop. Although you want to help, that might make you seem guilty.

Already, the guilt within you is rising. You felt your magic overpowering you and chose to stay. If a barista had been hurt, it would’ve been your fault.

Turning back, you find Jungkook staring at the mess. He looks similarly shocked, twisting the knife in your gut. If he knew you caused this, he’d look at you that differently.

“You see?” you blurt, and he glances in your direction. “Everyone around me gets hurt. I can’t hurt you, too, Jungkook.”

Shoving open the door, you’re halfway outside when his words reach your ears.

“That’s the thing, Y/N,” he says softly. “You already have.”

The door shuts behind you, and you almost make it home before starting to cry. The skies open again above the city.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” you mutter, staring through the window.

The slightly dilapidated Ramen-rama tables stare back at you until the owner walks past. Catching you standing there, he motions you on.

Somewhat chagrined, you trudge down the sidewalk. Reaching a playground two blocks away, you collapse on a bench and attempt to be rational. Four different interviews. Spread across two different days. Each one ending the exact same.

One crappy interview, even two, and you’d understand. But four crappy interviews in the same way? Something weird is happening. Each interview, you arrived, greeted the owner, answered a few questions, and were thus informed the position was filled.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t gotten a job. It was that your interviewers seemed nervous, staring hard at your resume and never your face. They seemed relieved when you left, as though you were liable to break something for fun.

“Hey. Did you interview this morning at Ramen-rama?”

Startled, you turn and find a stranger beside you.

You don’t recognize him; certainly you’d remember if you met before. Dressed in a Ramen-rama t-shirt, his dark hair is gathered in a bun on his head. His hair makes your chest ache, since Jungkook used to wear his like that.

“Um, yeah,” you say, yanking yourself from your daydreams.

He smiles and nods. “I thought that was you. Listen – I overheard the manager talking this morning on the phone while I was unloading the truck. I think he was talking about you, so I thought I should tell you what I overheard.”

Concerned, you straighten. “Uh, okay. What was he saying?”

“He was talking to your old boss – Pierre? Apparently, he’s calling around and warning people not to hire you. Said that you stole from him, or something. Not sure if it’s the same story for everyone, or if he’s making up shit up in the moment.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” The guy’s smile turns wry. “I’m assuming none of it’s true. You don’t look like the thieving type, but the boss is running a business, I guess. Can’t be too careful.”

“Right.” You pause, then shake your head. “I didn’t steal, just so you know. A guest was an ass to me, so I dumped water on him – on accident,” you add.

Laughing loudly, the guy clutches his bicycle. “Wow, I’d love to hear that story. Especially the part about it being an accident,” he adds with a wink, sticking out his hand. “I’m Wooyoung.”

“Y/N,” you say as you shake. “So. Pierre is calling people?”

Brow furrowed, Wooyoung pulls back. “Yeah. Sorry I had to tell you like this. Wasn’t sure whether you’d want to know, but figured I should.”

You push yourself to stand. “I do appreciate it. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem.” Sheepish, he glances down the road. “I should actually get back if I don’t want to lose my job. Delivery,” he explains, nodding towards his bike. “Need the extra income.”

“Makes sense,” you say, forcing a smile. “Good luck.”

Wooyoung nods, then pauses in a way that feels familiar. He’s checking you out, you realize after a moment. Although flattering, it’s instantly followed by a rush of guilt. Wooyoung is cute and in another life, you’d say yes, but in every life, it’s hard not to want Jungkook.

Waving goodbye, Wooyoung climbs onto his bike and takes off. You head in the opposite direction, needing to put distance between you and Ramen-rama. If Pierre is shit-talking you across town, you’ll be hard-pressed to find another job at a restaurant. Owners are notoriously clicky and for how many restaurants there are, there are surprisingly few out of the loop.

Maybe you can ask the coffee shop if they’re hiring. Although you should probably avoid work with water for a bit. This drops your mood, your thoughts turning desperate. You’re so deep in an anxiety spiral, you nearly run into an open door on the sidewalk.

Jerking upright, you stare at faded, golden letters. Creative Courage is spelled in looping cursive over a frosted window. Art supplies fill a display case, while the other is clustered with art of all kinds. You spot sculpture, pottery, painting, and sketches before losing count.

Before you can chicken out, you push open the door.

Stepping in, tiny bells chime to announce your arrival. Soft, ambient light fills the space – a shop that’s two-fold, you realize now that you’re inside. The front sells art supplies while in the back stands a classroom. There’s a class in session now, several artists seated on stools before easels.

“Can I help you?” someone asks, stepping into your path.

Blinking, you focus. “Um, no – thank you! I was just looking.”

“Of course!” The woman beams, reaching up to arrange a clip in magenta hair. “That’s what we’re here for. If you do change your mind, let me know – we’ve got art supplies out front, and classes are held daily in back.”

“Classes?”

“Mhm.” Crossing her arms, the woman nods. “Mostly still life and figure drawing, but we’re hoping to add some more soon. Are you an artist?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

Immediately, you stiffen. “No. At least, not right now.”

Her lips twitch. “Not sure it works like that, unfortunately. Who you are can’t come on and off like a jacket. I like that, though,” she admits with a laugh. “Might borrow it the next time the muses aren’t singing.”

You can’t help but grin. “Exactly.”

Her head tilts, surveying you with unnerving intensity. “My name is Taryn. I co-own this place with my partner, Micah. They’re the one teaching right now.”

“Oh,” you say, somewhat wistful. “That’s nice.”

“Thanks.” Her smile widens. “So, what was your preferred medium? You know, ‘back when’ you were an artist.”

You can’t help but laugh when Taryn lifts her hands to use air quotes. Some people have a way of making you feel included in their jokes, and Taryn is one of them. She teases you in a conspiratorial way, letting you know she understands. People often call art a labor of love, which can be true but more often, it’s a complicated tangle of love, pain and frustration.

“Watercolors,” you admit. “And my name is Y/N.”

Her eyes brighten. “We’ve been meaning to add a watercolor class for ages. Some of our regulars have asked, but Micah and I are both hopeless. Potter,” she explains, gesturing at herself. “And Micah prefers charcoal. Sometimes sculpture.”

“Wow,” you say. “Those are very different.”

“You don’t say.” Taryn laughs. “Micah likes to keep things fresh. What about you? Have you ever taught be– hang on,” she blurts, her eyes going wide. “Did you say that your name is Y/N? As in Y/N Y/L/N?”

Your cheeks heat. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Whirling, Taryn hustles through the front room to duck behind a counter. Digging through several drawers, she pulls out a print to hurry back.

“Is this you?” she demands, thrusting this in your face.

Even cross-eyed and close, you recognize your most popular work. A watercolor series on the majesty and destruction of sea storms. Looking at this makes you feel raw, and so you look up.

“Yep,” you admit. “That’s me.”

Pulling back, Taryn looks at the print reverently. “You’re amazing. Micah was trying to do something similar but couldn’t capture the right feeling.”

Shuffling awkwardly, you shrug. You’ve never felt as though your work deserved acclaim, although it’s nice to know the series resonated with others. One of your favorite aspects of art is how it can be intensely personal but once shared, takes on a universal quality. You find it constantly surprising; how many people seem to share the same burdens.

“Seriously.” Taryn shakes her head wryly. “If you ever wanted to teach a class, let me know. We’d be lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” you say, stuffing both hands in your pockets.

You hadn’t realized your desperation was obvious. Or possibly Taryn is just incredibly good at reading others. Truthfully, it’s been a while since you stepped foot in the art world. Even before dating Jungkook, you felt your passion lagging. It’s been a long time since you wanted to connect with your inner voice, although merely the act of being here calls the tide in your blood.

Dangerous.

Recognizing this, you reinforce an inner wall. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I’m not really looking for something right now.”

Taryn nods. “Sure. If things change though, just let me know – before next week,” she adds. “We try to publish our class schedule on the first of each month.”

“Will do. Thanks, again.”

“Anytime!” Beaming, Taryn spins to restock the next shelf.

Realizing your conversation is finished, you continue down the next aisle. The shop’s materials are superb, and your fingers are itching to reach out and touch. Reaching the front, you notice a quote painted over the register: Creativity takes courage – Henry Matisse.

You stare at this for a while, unsure why it hurts. Courage isn’t something you’ve thought about in a long time. When you were younger, you pushed people away because it was safe, but now you find yourself wondering who was that for – others? Or yourself?

Maybe the reason you keep yourself separate is because you are afraid people might leave you. Like Katrina. Or Elliot. Or even your dad.

Suppressing magic was hard at the start. Everything about it felt counter-intuitive but you reasoned doing the right thing often took effort. This is what you told yourself, anyways. It made said effort more bearable.

When you first began painting, the relief you felt was immense. After so long spent ignoring your emotions, you found a space to be free. Your series about the sea was oddly therapeutic, working through complicated emotions; your love for the ocean, coupled with fear of its wild beauty. Similar clashes within yourself about magic. And always, always, the desire for more.

For a few hours though, those feelings could be a part of you. Magic could be a part of you, so long as you remained in control – and with brush in hand, you were.

Only now does it occur to you that maybe, this wasn’t healthy. Maybe you shouldn’t feel the need to compartmentalize, as though certain pieces of yourself can only exist in certain spaces.

Tearing your gaze from the words, you exit the shop and gently shut the door. Pulling your jacket tighter, you head down the sidewalk and let your thoughts drift. Jungkook only saw you paint once, but the memory is hard to forget.

You had just started dating, barely past the stage of calling him ‘boyfriend.’ The constant influx of emotion was difficult to manage, and after a few weeks, you were exhausted. Most of your time spent without Jungkook was seated before your canvas. After one particularly frustrating session, you set down your paint to stubbornly stare at the canvas.

A throat cleared from behind.

Startled, you spun and found Jungkook standing there. His gaze moved quickly to yours, but you realized he’d been staring at your half-finished work. Normally, you felt panic at the thought of someone seeing a work in progress. That night though, the look on Jungkook’s face eased your concerns. Awe; pure and clear.

Yanking down giant, over-ear headphones, you hastily stood.

Jungkook lurched forward. “No!” he blurted, only to halt. “I mean – you don’t have to cover the painting. I liked it.”

He seemed flustered, which made you slightly flustered, but you took a slow step sideways. Eager, Jungkook’s gaze traversed the canvas.

Eventually, he looked back. “Sorry about that,” Jungkook said and walked closer. Warm hands found your waist. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“How did you get in?” you laughed, burying your face in his chest.

“Seokjin.” He paused. “Did he not say I was here? I texted you a half hour ago, but you didn’t respond. I figured I’d stop by, and Seokjin said to come up.”

Softening, you made a mental note to chastise Seokjin later. Tightening your arms, you lifted your head and smiled.

“So.” Jungkook glanced over your shoulder. “This is you.”

This sent a thrill down your spine. He spoke as though he’d known you before, but only on a surface level and now, he understood. Jungkook knew your art was part of you, as much as your heart or your soul. You had often felt the same, but never said so out loud.

Magic swelled, and you pushed it back down, but it was difficult. When Jungkook bent his head, you forgot to be scared and let yourself feel. The brush of his lips. The tightening of his hands. The current within you, swelling against your highest walls.

Loudly, someone knocked on the door. Breathless, you jerked backwards and found Seokjin in the door.

“Hey.” He jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “Wanted to let you know our dishwasher broke. Flooded the kitchen.” Pointed, Seokjin looked at you. “Everything is all good, but I’m calling a plumber tomorrow. Carry on.”

In a flurry of embarrassment, you abruptly ended the evening and sent Jungkook home.

Remembering how the night ended, you stifle a groan and walk faster. Once more, you couldn’t control your magic and put Jungkook in danger. Hardly the creative courage Henry Matisse imagined.

You always assumed suppressing your magic was the best choice. But the best choice for who? Certainly not for you, who lives isolated, inert and in fear of yourself. Your dad used to call your magic a gift, but it’s been a long time since you felt that way.

This memory brings with it a sharp stab of pain. Since your dad passed, fear has replaced any joy your magic brought. Fear of falling victim to the same fate he did. Of others’ rejection. Of failing to live up to your father’s example.

You have little doubt that if your dad could see you now, he’d be confused by your actions.

You push others away in the name of saving them. Again, you think of Jungkook and for once you allow it. The entire way home, you wish that he’d call.

He doesn’t though and eventually, you stop hoping.

By Friday, the threads keeping your feelings at bay are nearly worn through. Intrusive thoughts push against fragile bonds, threatening the haven you’ve carefully crafted.

With more force than needed, you toss clothing into the washer. Your usual laundromat was closed, forcing you to walk five blocks to the next one. Sweaty from suddenly sweltering temperatures, your arms sore from the hamper, the situation does nothing to improve an already crappy mood.

Wiping your forehead with one arm, you slam the door and press start. The machine whirs to life, laundry tumbling in a way reminiscent of your inner turmoil. Up, you did the right thing by ending it with Jungkook. He’ll swiftly move on and find someone else. Down – but you don’t want him to find someone else. You want him to find you.

Teeth gritted, you turn and grab your hamper from the floor. Placing this on the washer, you wearily tug your cell phone from your pocket. By the time you walked home, you’d have to come back, leaving you with forty minutes to kill. You could read more of the book you just started. Or submit your resume to a couple of restaurants.

After yesterday’s disaster at Ramen-rama though, the interview process has stalled. Instead, you’ve found yourself thinking more about Creative Courage. For a brief moment, you even walked into the third bedroom to paint.

You immediately walked back out again, but merely the act was more than you’ve done in months. The thought of creation brought mostly panic, since it’d involve you being honest. Something you haven’t been with yourself in a while.

Because if you were honest, you know what you’d find. You would regret breaking up with Jungkook. Maybe even find that, deep down, you want to be selfish. You want to keep dating him, even if Jungkook gets hurt in the end.

After all, you saw what loving an Elemental did to your mom.

Putting down your phone, you scan the laundromat and find your gaze catching on the person in the next aisle.

No. No, no, no – absolutely not.

The universe – or whoever’s writing your story – must be cruel and unusual, since standing beside you is Jungkook. You’d recognize his head anywhere. Straightening from his hamper, Jungkook turns to face you and goes still.

Eyes wide, he seems stunned until someone slams shut their dryer. Both of you jump, breaking eye contact and time seems to reset. Pressing start on his machine, Jungkook grabs his gym bag and hoists it over one shoulder. He strides towards the exit, halfway there when you spring into action.

Dashing towards him, you cut him off at the dryers. Footsteps slowing, Jungkook meets your gaze with visible confusion.

“Sorry,” he says, tugging his gym bag behind him. The thick, grey strap of it cuts across his hoodie. “I was just leaving. I can come back later if you want to finish your load.”

Again, he tries to move past you, but something inside of you snaps. You aren’t sure what possesses you, but somehow, find your hand gripping his sleeve.

Startled, Jungkook stares.

Equally swift, you withdraw. “I, uh…”

Head spinning, all your words seem to fly out the window. Nothing about this was planned. You have no idea what to tell Jungkook besides I’m sorry, and even this would be woefully inadequate without explanation. Which you can’t give.

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” you say at last.

A singular brow lifts. “No? You didn’t seem to think that way on Wednesday.”

You suppress a wince, although you try your best to hide it. “I know,” you admit. “It’s just… this is your usual laundromat. I don’t want you to leave because of me. I wouldn’t even be here, expect the one near me is broken and –”

“Got it,” he interrupts, the words tight. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have to be.”

Swallowing hard, you stare down at your shoes. You know you deserve this, but it’s just so hard to see Jungkook hurting. He deserves to be happy, not wasting his energy on hating you.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Your eyes start to burn, and you squeeze them shut to prevent a reaction. You absolutely cannot cry in front of Jungkook. Not when you’re the one who started this; the very last thing you want him to feel for you is pity.

“Hey.” Something in his tone shifts, and you hear Jungkook step closer. When you open your eyes, he watches you intently. “What’s wrong?”

A tiny fissure within your chest splinters.

Anyone else could have asked those words, and you would have been able to answer. For Jungkook to do so is unthinkable. You’re the one who ruined this. The one who hurt him, who ended this and still, Jungkook is concerned about your well-being.

“I was fired on Sunday,” you say in a rush. “Before I came to see you.”

He blinks only once before his face hardens. “Before you broke up with me, you mean.”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, Jungkook glances away. His expression is taut, and you feel a sharp pang of envy. It’s so easy to read Jungkook. You’ve spent so long hiding your emotions, it strikes you as luxurious how easily he feels.

A muscle in his jaw tics. “Y/N,” Jungkook says, turning back. “What are you doing?”

“What… do you mean?”

Fear spikes your heart, wondering if Jungkook has finally pieced the facts together. Maybe he saw more than you realized at the coffee shop. Maybe he finally knows what you are.

“Why are you… torturing me?” he clarifies, a slight rasp to his voice. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You were fired? That sucks, but it doesn’t make this okay. It doesn’t make us okay,” he adds, gesturing to the air between you.

“I – I know,” you stammer, nearly blurting out something you’ll regret.

Like that you’re an Elemental teetering close to the edge. One who can feel every pipe, every spin cycle within the walls of this laundromat. All of them churning, pulsing, begging for your magic to release the water inside.

“You know?” Jungkook stares at you, incredulous. “Again, Y/N – what do you want from me?”

Since you started talking, you’ve moved several steps closer. Another breath, another reach and you’d be in his arms. Glancing down, you notice how quickly Jungkook’s chest rises and falls.

He’s afraid, you realize. Jungkook’s fear isn’t the same one as yours, though. He isn’t afraid that you’ll see him, but rather that you’ll destroy him.

Realizing this, a barrier within you crumbles. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say, somewhat desperate.

“You keep saying that.” Determined, he steps closer and somehow, your hand entwines with his to press against his chest. “You keep saying you don’t want this, but you won’t tell me why. Won’t tell me anything, Y/N – you were fired, and this is the first time I’m hearing it.”

“I couldn’t tell you!” you blurt. “I can’t explain it, Jungkook, but I couldn’t tell you when it happened.”

His gaze sharpens. “Then, yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe we are better off broken up.”

Releasing you, Jungkook brushes past you and heads for the exit. You stare blankly at the wall before you, your whole world caving in as your head starts to spin. Magic seeps beyond your fractured walls, flooding your veins in desperate search for an exit.

“That’s not true,” you protest, spinning around. “I’ve told you more than anyone else in my life, Jungkook. I’ve let you in in ways no one else has.”

Jungkook stiffens at the door, his entire body taut. For a single, long moment, it seems as though he might reconsider but the longer you stand there, the more you watch the fight drain from the lines of his shoulders.

“I don’t doubt that’s true,” he says, hand hovering above the doorknob. “But that’s not the same as letting me in.”

He starts to go.

Everything around you becomes white noise.

When you were ten, you passed a famous dam on one of your cross-country moves. Your mom took you to see it, swinging your hand while entering the viewing platform.

The moment you saw it, you went wholly still. Trillions of gallons of water, trapped behind concrete, constantly pushing but unable to break. It felt like your magic. Raw, untamed power contained by a solid wall. You stared for longer than any other visitor, until your mom pulled your arm and said you should leave.

The entire way to the car, your mom was silent and once you were buckled in, she twisted around to see you. “Listen to me, Y/N,” she said, her voice serious. “That dam will only work if the wall holds. If the wall breaks, do you know what happens?”

Silent, you shook your head.

“The water will flood the whole valley. Everyone in its path, all the forest – they’d be gone. The wall can’t break, or bad things happen. Do you understand me?”

Solemn, you nodded because even then, you understood. Although your magical dam was intangible, it held equal importance. You had to hold in the magic, otherwise bad things would happen. So long as the wall was in place, you were safe.

Now though, you squeeze your eyes tightly as the wall starts to crumble.

Emotions break with the force of a tidal wave, racing ahead and drowning all in its path. Memories you thought were long buried continue to rise, crushing you further. Your walls are destroyed in a matter of seconds.

You remember your dad, kissing you on the head before leaving the house. Katrina’s stricken expression when the door shut in her face. Jungkook, asking you what he’d done wrong again.

Each memory drags you under, and you shudder against the onslaught. It takes everything you have to remain standing while your restraint dissolves.

Hands grip your arms.

Surprised, your eyes fly open to find Jungkook before you. His neck muscles strain, yelling to be heard over thundering water. You try your best to focus, to rein your magic back in – only to realize with horror, it might be too late.

The laundromat around you is in chaos. Several ceiling pipes have burst, water crashing down in torrents of water. Already, waves lap at your ankles. Noise filters back in, flickering before solidifying to something substantial.

People are screaming, abandoning their hampers in an attempt to get out. The door has stuck though, unable to open under the onslaught of water. Jungkook yells again, and this time you hear him.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, close to your face.

You stare upward, stupefied. Another pipe bursts, and you think that was you, but it’s hard to be sure. Hard to understand which parts are in control and which parts are not. What particular emotion is holding the reins at any moment.

Determination replaces fear in his face, and Jungkook bends before you have time to blink. In an instant, you’re tossed over his shoulder. A yelp escapes, upside-down but he’s already wading through the aisle of washers.

Jungkook shouts at people to move, but no one is listening. After a moment, you feel him exhale and surge forward. Although you can’t see, the people seem to be moving, so Jungkook must appear confident.

Grasping the door, he pulls on it, hard. Nothing happens. Exhaling, Jungkook grips your waist tighter and mutters, “Hold on.”

You don’t have time to ask why, since he yanks harder and the entire frame shudders. Jungkook does this again and another pipe bursts, drawing your gaze. By the time you look back, the door has budged an inch and water is pouring out. With a final wrench, Jungkook yanks open the door.

People shove past him, rushing into the street with the tide of water. Spinning around, Jungkook shields you with his frame from the wet crush of bodies. His grip never wavers, feet anchored to the ground as though they’ve rocks themselves.

With each breath, your pulse slows until finally, you locate the faint threads of magic. Before, you felt too much at once. The crush was overwhelming but now, you manage to breach the surface. For the first time, you see your panic influencing the tide.

Realizing this, you reach inward and try to – turn. With great effort, you identify the source of your power and disconnect. Water in the ceiling slows to a trickle, and then, nothing.

Exhaling against your neck, Jungkook’s hand moves lower.

You can’t help but shiver. “Jungkook?” you murmur into his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Could you… you know, set me down?”

“Oh.”

Somewhat sheepish, Jungkook lowers you to face him. He doesn’t step away, and neither do you. If this is the last time you see him, you want to be selfish and make it as long as possible.

He stares back at you, waterdrops caught between his lashes. In the background, water continues to drip from a pipe. The soft plink-plink echoes the thud of your heart.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Jungkook’s hands remain on your waist, his touch scrambling all semblance of sanity. You aren’t sure how to answer without being honest.

Truthfully, you’re not okay.

An okay person wouldn’t break up with their boyfriend and then, six days later throw themselves in their path. An okay person wouldn’t be hiding their magic, they wouldn’t be lying to the person they love and most of all, wouldn’t continue to place that same person in danger.

Silent, you survey the aftermath of your outburst. Deep down, your magic itches in response to your panic. Seeping outward, it seeks to mold to the fear, but you manage to stop it. Something about the wall being gone makes your power less alien. No longer an unknown variable, but a constant.

“No,” you exhale. Steeling yourself, you take a step backwards. “No, Jungkook, I’m not okay. I… this is exactly why you should stay away from me. Bad things happen, and I can’t control them. I’m so sorry.”

Again, you brace yourself for his anger, but it never comes. Jungkook is unusually quiet, head cocked to one side. He sees right through you, a sensation unnerving enough that you drop your gaze.

“I should go,” you repeat, stepping around him. Reaching your washer, you hastily unload your soggy clothing. “I have to go.”

Jungkook says nothing, although you feel his gaze on the back of your head. Hefting your hamper, you slam the door shut, and turn. The water level at your ankles has dropped, no more than a centimeter remaining in the room.

Sirens wail in the distance, likely on their way to investigate. Your stomach lurches, recognizing the cost of your magic. As soon as possible, you should reach out to Seokjin. His company might be able to cover the damage if the laundromat can’t.

Nearing the exit, you look anywhere but at Jungkook’s face. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, unsure what else to say. “Really, I am.”

Again, he lets you move past. Water rushes out when you open the door, seeking the street, then the gutter. Hurrying past, you can’t shake the feeling something has changed.

Not only with you and Jungkook, but with you and your magic. Silent, you prod the place deep within from which your magic stems. You’re used to a wall, feeling closed off but now, it seems your mom was right.

Once shattered, the dam can’t be rebuilt.

A weightlessness accompanies this that you didn’t anticipate. Despite the terror of your outburst, there was a moment near the end when you stopped it. When you felt what was wrong and controlled your outburst of magic. You haven’t done that before.

The thought is followed by regret, remembering Jungkook. When you broke up, it was supposed to save him. Instead, you’ve only put him – and yourself – in greater danger. Maybe because you’ve continued to see him. Everything would be fine if you moved or kept your distance.

But then, another part of you wonders if you were wrong from the start. Maybe instead of providing distance, you should have come closer. Should have allowed Jungkook to decide whether he wanted to stay. After all, today, he experienced the worst of your powers, and he didn’t run. If anything, he moved closer.

Suddenly exhausted, you hail a cab. The driver grumbles at your wet clothes but allows you inside, and you tip him extra upon reaching your place. What you should do is find another laundromat and finish your load, but there’s an itch in your fingers you haven’t felt in some time.

Dropping your hamper at the door, you shutter yourself within the third bedroom. Not allowing yourself to second-guess, you sit down at your easel and pick up a brush.

For the first time in a long time, you allow the magic to flow. You paint.

 © kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

Author’s Note: thank you for reading so far! Continued in Part II, here.

[snowangeldotmp3]

dear barb;

hello hello >:) i come bearing a letter. general warning: this is in first person, because there's no way else to write a letter...so if first person pov is not your thing, kindly keep scrolling! <3 i'll be uploading this to ao3 too, if anyone feels more comfy reading it there!

i don't do taglists, but dio asked so kindly to be tagged so!! @flowercrowngods !! <3 now, onto the letter!

barb,

i don’t know why i’m writing this. max said it helped, and i miss talking to you, so here we are. i brought you some flowers. tulips, your favorites. i don’t even know if you can hear me, wherever you are, i hope you can. i hope it’s nice.

a lot has changed since that night. they found will, they found another girl too. they built a mall, then it got destroyed. then hawkins got split in half.

there’s a lot that’s changed, not just in hawkins, but everything. i’ve changed. for worse or for better, i’m not sure i know yet.

i broke up with steve. turns out we weren’t good for each other, and i wasn’t really myself when i was with him. you knew that, too. you were right about him, about me.

i guess you also know about the upside down. i won’t have to sugar coat anything.

we tried to find you, by the way. jonathan and i. we went out in the woods trying to hunt the monster that got will and got you, too. we thought if we found it and killed it, we’d find both of you.

we were wrong. i’m sorry. i should’ve listened to you. maybe if i had you’d still be here. or maybe if we had never gone to steve’s house at all. maybe we could’ve avoided all of this.

you want to know something really selfish? when will came back, i was angry. god, i was so, so angry. i mean, i was glad that jonathan got his brother back and that mike had his best friend back but…i don’t know. i couldn’t stay in the room long, it hurt too much. to know that they got their friend back but i couldn’t get mine. it didn’t make sense. it wasn’t fair. they were allowed to get their best friend back but mine was dead because of me. you weren’t coming back. we wouldn’t have anymore sleepovers and movie nights and study sessions. you were gone.

gone. gone. gone.

i waited until i got home before i started crying. i didn’t want mike to see me upset after his best friend came back. i ran upstairs, locked the door, grabbed an old sweater that you left at my house and cried until i threw up. i still have the sweater. it was the one you gave me on halloween in ’82, when it got so cold it snowed.

after that everything was blurry for a little bit. numb. i turned sixteen and didn’t even care because we made plans for that and you weren’t there. my mom tried to make a big deal out of it, but it wasn’t the same. i needed you.

i still need you.

then your birthday came up, in the summer. you were supposed to turn seventeen. i don’t think i even got anything done that day. mom thought i was sick but i just kept playing every moment back in my head. every movie night, every sleepover, every phone call—all the way up to knowing you were gone. to knowing i couldn’t call you that day and say “happy birthday,” because there was nobody to call.

it was also the same day i decided that whoever did this to you, whoever created the upside down, needed to pay. i know i can’t ever really give you justice, but i can try. the lab—the ones who created all of this—got shut down. we had to water the story down though, had to say that it was a chemical spill that killed you. not a monster from another dimension.

not that it was me.

we had a funeral for you. i couldn’t stay there too long, either. it hurt too much. The funeral and the fact that you weren’t even in the casket. it was a nice funeral though, the parts that i stayed for. i left before they lowered the casket in. i didn’t want to say goodbye to you, even if i knew you weren’t even in there, it just made it too real.

i still think about that night. i think about how i should’ve listened to you and that maybe we could’ve stopped it and maybe then you would’ve graduated with the rest of us, instead of rotting in the upside down. how maybe we would’ve gone to the same college like we had planned to do. how we would’ve gone to prom. how we would’ve celebrated your eighteenth, how you’d had that planned for years, and how we were supposed to celebrate it together.

how you’re sixteen forever.

how i should’ve listened to you. how it should’ve been me instead. how maybe i could’ve stopped it. i used to spend every night hoping, praying, that it was all just a bad dream and that i would see you at school the next day. that you weren’t gone, you were still here with me. i’d spend those nights wrapped up in your sweater sobbing, wishing that it would take me too. i didn’t know what to do without you. but i kept going, even if i hadn’t wanted to.

i killed the son of a bitch who did it. partially, at least. i had help from a girl with superpowers, which is…a crazy sentence to write, but, it’s true. we took him down. made him pay. i just wish we hadn’t had to do it at all, you know? i wish that we could’ve been normal teenagers and you would’ve been there to see it.

i didn’t make friends for a long time. not until recently. her name is robin. she reminds me a lot of you, actually. not that i’m replacing you, you can’t be replaced. she said that you guys were friends before we were, which is insane to me. maybe that’s why we work, she’s so similar to you anyway, it almost feels like you’re still here. she’s like another connection to you, someone who actually remembers you. someone who actually knew you. maybe in another life we could’ve all been friends. i like to think we would’ve been. i would’ve liked that.

i’m leaving you with an old photo of us, the ones we took at that little kiosk in that mall in Terre Haute, so you’ll have a little of me with you. there were two copies, one for me, and one for you. i know those were your favorites, and i hate to think that you’d be lonely wherever you are, so I’m leaving these with you.

i’ll write you another letter sometime, it might be a while before the next one, but for this, i really just wanted to say; i’m sorry. i should’ve listened to you.

i’m sorry. i wish you were here. it should’ve been me.

i miss you.

i love you

yours always, nancy.

[pinkbowsandprettyprose]

Can you please share your story of how you became a Kisshu x Ichigo shipper and Tokyo Mew Mew fan in the first place? It would be really interesting to discover the original of it all!

Sure! :) putting this under a readmore because it’s going to be long.

I discovered TMM as an anime first, via the ominous depths of 2006 YouTube, split into 3 parts and uploaded in 360p. I’d already watched a bit of anime — mostly whatever was popular — I think I’d finished all of Inuyasha, seen most of classic Sailor Moon, and I was halfway through Cardcaptor Sakura when I picked up TMM. I fell in love with it pretty much from episode 1, and immediately dove into fan forums, wikis, etc. I finished my first watch of it on YouTube and immediately wanted more, so little 5th grader me scraped together some cash and bought the first two volumes of the manga. When I finished those over the span of literally one evening, I read the last five while sitting on the floor of a Barnes & Noble (as one does when you’re young and broke and really wanna read a new manga).

Not to get too deep, but I had a pretty bizarre and lonely childhood, so I basically took whatever anime or manga I could find and inhaled it as a form of escapism. I was at the library almost every weekend camped out in a corner reading manga. I went on to watch basically any anime that was appealing to my demographic as a middle schooler — Shugo Chara, FMA, Soul Eater, Full Moon, Ouran — you name the anime that a middle school girl would be into, and I’d seen it. But literally nothing could scratch the itch for a unique story and creativity in its characters like TMM did. I wrote a ton of (terrible) fanfiction for it back in the day, watched every single AMV on the internet, and argued with people in TMM forums about whether ZakuMint is canon or not (as one does when you’re queer and in middle school and full of emotions).

Speaking more specifically to why Quiche & Ichigo is still my OTP as an adult — I think it was the first time I’d really experienced a pairing that was a more complex (and dark) take on a villain/hero relationship. Those kinds of pairings in movies and TV shows had always fascinated me as a kid, but Mia Ikumi’s vision for kishigo in TMM’s manga had me totally captivated. Coupled with the fact that Quiche as a character was fascinating to me (more on that in my other ask I’ve already answered here), I think it’s hard to match that same childhood excitement and wonder while consuming new media as an adult. Once you have a childhood OTP, it’s hard to let go of it completely. You can find other ships you’re excited about, but if you’re really, truly in love with one pairing, and you’re getting treated to new media for it like Ikumi’s Re-Turn… it’s hard to replicate. :)

I’m still a big fan of the enemies-to-lovers and villain/hero tropes today, and TMM will always be a special fandom for me that I return to time and time again. 💖

[construingseacats]

Umireread: Legend of the Golden Witch - Chapter 10: The Six Chosen by the Key   

Sun, Oct 5 1986 - 6:00AM

The following contains spoilers for the entirety of Umineko. Please do not read if you are yet to finish it.

I’m so excited for this chapter, you have no idea.

Extremely funny mental image of Yasu going to Natsuhi’s room, seeing the charm, then deciding “well if she’s off the table then I’m killing that asshole who gave me night duty while he did his crossword”. Of course, she probably had to kill Gohda to help avoid any incriminating testimony from her changing her assigned position last night, but it’s still funny to think about.

Since the rest are the adults, it’s easy to think about Gohda being an odd one out and the obvious replacement for Natsuhi, but given the above I wonder who the unfortunate backup was. Maybe Rosa? Or potentially one of either Rudolf or Kyrie, originally intending to only kill one of the adults per pair?

I love how Genji goes “Sorry. The Telephones are down” then “By the way Gohda is missing”, and completely neglects to mention that Natsuhi’s door is coated in bloodstains. Just leave the most obvious detail as something for her to find out for herself, you know.

“Natsuhi had a pretty good idea” is SUCH a funny line. Not even concerned by the horror movie trope, she already suspects which family member did it. I wonder who her mind immediately jumps to - although let’s be real, it’s probably Eva.

Eva tries to check on Kinzo and Natsuhi immediately shoots her down. It’s really funny how blatant the cover up is. Like, you’re unlikely to question it, since we keep getting fantasy scenes of Kinzo in his study, but it sure is there if you go looking for it.

Speaking of - the moment we see Kinzo in the office here, we’ve accounted for 17 of our 18 (with 5 known missing). Good game Shannon, we have our six chosen by the key.

Natsuhi, alone in the study, worries about how much Eva is going to tear into her, and then immediately makes up a pep talk to make herself feel good. I’m telling you, these study scenes are a goldmine.

Yeah, Eva absolutely would have been the one to leave bloody scratch marks all over Natsuhi’s door.

Here we go

HERE WE GO

…Okay, you can have that one. Saying it’s a sigh of relief right as they uncover the bodies is very cheeky, but the irony balances out how tense the scene is. It’s a breather for the reader as well.

We actually get a breather with the kids as well. Final moments of innocent Battler caught on tape.

Chills. Full chills.

And here it is. 

Allow me to indulge for a moment.

When I was a kid, my first anime was The Haruhi of Melancholy Suzumiya. I watched it through low-resolution fansubs that had been posted on a YouTube that was still in its youth, with each episode awkwardly split into three parts since you couldn’t upload videos longer than ten minutes. I probably watched that at an age that was slightly too young for it, but as a kid who only knew the world of animation through the veneer of kids cartoons and Matt Groening shows (except maybe that one time I watched Spirited Away when I was 5 - which also left a stark impression on me), it really opened my eyes to a world of new media that I hadn’t even conceived of before. I really wanted to see what else there was.

Anyway, my second anime was Higurashi no naku koro ni.

If I was slightly too young for Haruhi, I was definitely too young for Higurashi. But that was part of the appeal, I suppose - the prepubescent desire to cast away the shackles of childhood and prove your maturity. That you’ve grown up. I legitimately remember 10 or 11 year old me showing a friend the scene of Rika stabbing herself in the head while going “look at what I’m watching now! Look how mature I am!” - admittedly, this was to a friend who had allegedly already seen all manner of films rated 15 or 18, so it arguably would have been relatively tame to them, and boasting about your maturity is undoubtedly the most immature thing a person can do.

While the initial appeal there was that Higurashi was “mature”, it was still really interesting. There was good intrigue there, the plot had me hooked, and from start to finish it was a really good piece of media. I’m pretty sure my younger self saw the scene where the sound of gunshots are covered up by fireworks at the local festival and thought it was the smartest plot point in any piece of media ever. Anyway, a short while later, I heard that there was going to be a sequel anime to Higurashi - a new show, called Umineko.

Now, I had a fine time with the Umineko anime. I would have been 12-13 as it was airing - still eager to consume media I was too young for - and, with no bar for quality, I enjoyed it. There was cool gore! The mystery was exciting! The red truth was such a neat concept and the witch fights were badass! Sure, it may not have had as much of a lasting impact on me as Higurashi, but it was still good, right?

Well, it wasn’t good. In fact, pretty much all the anime reviews I saw for it were negative. There were still a few fools like myself who had enjoyed it, but there was one thing I kept seeing - a sentiment that was effectively universal. A simple statement.

“The Visual Novel is so much better.”

I held onto those words for a few years.

I don’t know what the instigator for it was, but somewhere down the line, I decided to act on it. I bought the original japanese version of Episodes 1-4 and 5-8 through what I believe was the old Witch Hunt site - quite possibly one of the dodgiest deals I’ve ever made, as anyone who procured Umineko back in the old days can attest to - and applied the fanmade english patch. The PS3 sprite mod looked so much better than the original sprites, so I installed that as well. And, 10 years ago, I started playing.

It was… fine. I wasn’t a huge fan of how the text covered the whole screen, rather than appearing in text boxes, like it did in the other VNs I’d played. I say that as if I’d actually played any VN other than Katawa Shoujo at that time. But, I remembered liking Umineko, so I pressed on. I pressed on through the boring introductions, through the boring discussions of the inheritance, waiting to get to the cool parts where Beatrice showed up and the magic fights started happening.

But then, we got to this scene.

There I was, sitting with my laptop on holiday, with my cheap earphones plugged in, as the cousins approached the gardening shed. As the adults told them not to get any closer. As they did so anyway.

What followed is some of the most unrelentingly raw reactions to a visceral scene like this that I’d ever seen in any piece of media, ever. This wasn’t the dulled impact that the anime had hit me with - this was a full, unfiltered, uncensored dive into the immutable affliction of being human. They’ve got no faces - you could feel Battler’s unmitigated despair oozing from it all. These weren’t just characters reacting to a scene in a book. This was something more.

This was the moment that I fell in love with Umineko.

Perhaps I gave too much background to that statement - perhaps I’ve fallen afoot of the same criticisms I levied against the earlier parts of the tale for not getting to the point quicker. But that is the play-by-play of how, 10 years ago, this scene went straight for the jugular and bled me dry. This is where I knew I wasn’t just reading another version of that anime I’d seen the years prior, I was reading something special.

I would be remiss to say this is entirely down to the writing - a lot of this is also heavily driven by the blaring tones of goldenslaughterer. If Umineko was simply a series of 8 books, it wouldn’t have had the same effect on me as it has done for the past decade. If this scene wasn’t equipped with one of the most perfect aural accompaniments imaginable, I don’t think it would have stuck with me as much as it did. But the palpable emotion dripping from each word - the killer performances from each of the VAs (Jessica’s screams are INCREDIBLE) - and the musical storytelling doing just as much heavy lifting as the writing is… it’s an inimitable experience. This is what everyone was telling me that I was missing out on back in the halcyon days of 2009. They were right.

Perhaps it was for the best that I did give it those few extra years, so that I could truly appreciate the masterwork being crafted before me. I can’t imagine even beginning to comprehend the themes or the mystery of this tale at age 13, when I scarcely did so at 17. But regardless of the what ifs, this is the path that led me to what I consider, with no exaggeration, a pivotal moment in my life. It’s hard to describe the emotions that were stirred as I approached this scene for the reread - if I had to approximate it, then it would be unbound excitement mixed with trepidation, a great interest in re-experiencing such an important scene tempered by a fear that it may not have been as good as I remembered.

Of course, it wasn’t going to hit me in the exact same way that it did the first time round - you cannot recreate the sensation of a sucker punch when you know that it’s coming. But I can say, with certainty, that this scene was just as good as I remembered. That it still hit all the points that made me fall in love with the story originally.

I cannot wait to keep reading the rest.

Honestly, after what I’ve just said (and my feelings at large), it feels sacreligious to stop and dissect this scene. It’s something you want to just let play out, to absorb the experience - part of me wants to just skip straight to the end.

But still, I’d feel remiss not to mention Nanjo’s acting here - he goes into doctor mode and then realises “wait, I need to be more emotional” before dropping it immediately. One of those moments that doesn’t arouse suspicion on a first read but feels super blatant afterwards.

In for a penny, in for a pound. Hideyoshi looks and sounds so pained having to perpetuate the crucial lie over here. You can really feel the thoughts running through his head of “do I expose it? Is it worth it?”

AND THEN WE GET HIT WITH WORLD END. I cannot stress how much music matters to me and accentuates the experience; a sound novel utilised to the full extent of the medium can truly produce a story that no traditional paper novel ever can.

Phenomenal work from the VA here - they clearly got the memo that this is a panicked “no” of not wanting the lie to be unveiled, rather than one of sincere desire to protect George. Again, you can still interpret it as the latter, so you’re unlikely to pick it up on a first read, but absolutely there on the reread.

There’s an incredible parallel made here of George holding onto Shannon’s smile, while Battler is doomed to remember the gored faces of his parents. Not only is this great by itself, it’s yet another example of fantasy versus reality, with George being able to hold onto happy memories by being ignorant to the truth (even if that truth isn’t a real truth in this case).

“Proved beyond doubt”, the narrative says, about the one body that we should doubt.

No commentary - this is just a great line and I wanted to highlight it.

And so all the associates chime in to cover it up.

I feel like it’s fairly easy to miss how well Eva is taking the whole thing in this scene. Everyone else is traumatised, and she’s holding up remarkably well.

Interesting how it’s the associates setting up the howdunnit as well! I suppose Yasu wants to make sure that element isn’t missed by the would-be detectives.

And so Umineko tells you to your face that this is the story about a serial killer who wants to be discovered. I suppose there’s already elements of that in the letter to solve the Epitaph, but it’s really made explicit here.

I’m still riding the high of the first twilight. I’m not sure if there’s any other scene in Umineko that I’ll gush about to that extent, but I know there’s plenty of moments yet to come that won’t fail to blow me away.

I know it’s integral to the story, and it wouldn’t work otherwise, but I do have to say that the howdunnit hook adds so much to Umineko that wouldn’t be there otherwise. Some of my fondest memories from the first readthrough was trying to figure out how it was all done (without ever considering the scenes that were lying to us, oops). I’m really looking forward to going through that all again, with the lens of love.

[thoradvice]

Hi! Is it okay if I can request a positivity post for people who struggle with ptsd? ;-; I keep having flashbacks and I am constantly dealing with multiple triggers 24/7 for the last few months now and I’m so scared that I’ll never get better. I only get a few hours of sleep every night because I’m so anxious and on “high alert” all the time, I’m jolting awake gasping and then I can’t fall back asleep. I’m shaking everyday because my brain is always like “look out for the danger!” And I’m unfortunately in a position where I am unable to avoid my multiple triggers (certain clothes, certain colors), and the person who gave me this ptsd is someone I accidentally see online at least once a week, even though I’ve blocked them, they are a very popular fandom blog and they frequently buy commissions of themself… like maybe 15 to 20 commissions per month from all different kinds of artists. So I’m always seeing my abuser’s commissions, visual images of them floating around everywhere I go :( I tried taking time off of tumblr for 8 months, but my ptsd didn’t improve, I just felt lonely and I really missed uploading my own artwork ;-; but now I’ve stopped drawing entirely because I don’t find joy in drawing anymore.

I am surrounded by these reminders of what happened to me, and my only hope is to someday reclaim the triggers and to see them as normal things again, but I don’t know if that’s possible when I feel so incredibly broken and I see my abuser so often. I’ve never had to deal with this kind of thing before. I wish someone would sit with me and tell me everything will be okay, even if it might not be true. I went through all of it completely alone for a full year, and now I feel so numb to anything around me. Going to movies, restaurants, concerts, all of it feels so empty to me. I’m sorry for the vent, you don’t have to reply to this if you don’t want to ;-;

hi there, sweetheart !! first off, i'm so sorry that you're struggling so hard right now, and that you can't seem to escape anything that's making life so much harder. i have never personally dealt with ptsd in that sense, but i do have an ample amount of trauma, and you have my every sympathy.

i'm going to split your ask up into a few parts, if that's okay. i completely understand the fear of never getting better. dealing with so much mental anguish for so long is a trauma in of itself, and i'm so sorry. please know that there is a "better" for everyone. everyone's looks different, and comparing yourself to others who recovered quicker, or more easily won't help - because your situations are always going to be different. but there /is/ a better for you, and anybody else reading this. it'll take time, and will happen slowly, but you'll get there. i also really struggle with sleep, because of intense anxiety / nightmares. there are a number of OTC medications that you can try, have you? i know it sounds silly, if you're struggling so much, but sometimes simple answers help the most. i'm not sure where you are, but if you're in europe, you can order melatonin from the us, and of course in the us it is OTC. there's also a number of medicated syrups (nytol / night nurse / etc). melatonin can occasionally create nightmares, so please be sure to start on a tiny dose. if you have already tried these, speaking to a doctor may really help. i completely understand not wanting to bring up your ptsd, but there are ways to build up to it - including merely mentioning sleep issues first, and building a rapport with the doctor over a few weeks / months. sleep is so key, and getting something that helps you get rest will be instrumental !!

i'm so sorry your abuser is so popular. that's such a uniquely awful pain that i cannot even begin to imagine. is it possible for you to blog them, and the people creating art of them? it'd probably take a while, and be a bit taxing at first, but eventually you may see that your dash has less and less of them. i understand losing joy in the things that you love. it'll take a while to find the joy again, but this is something i have also experienced, and things will make you happy again. i don't feel equipped to advise on managing triggers surrounding things you love. but it may be worth trying to sketch something small and unrelated to fandom. is there a pretty tree you can see from your window? a cool house down the street? a cat lounging around? perhaps taking art away from the online space and the person who hurt you may make it feel more "yours" again. i'm so sorry that you've been going at this alone. no one ever deserves that. i don't know you, but i'm sitting with you right now, telling you it's going to be okay. there is more to life than this pain you're feeling right now, and there always will be. you will find joy in the things you loved again. you will be able to exist without reminders from your abuser, or if they happen, you will be equipped to deal with that. you will build a network of people to lean on, and that love you, and will be there for you. you deserve more than the hand you were dealt, and i hope you get that someday. emotional numbness is perhaps one of the most taxing things to deal with, but please know that this grey won't last forever. colour will bloom into your life again. there is more than this, and you deserve more than this. i am here with you, and you'll get through this.

[willow-lark]

for the ask game!! i'm ALWAYS down to hear more about fantasy au so that ofc but also the p&p au *glances over, pretending not to be interested* <3 <3

(also thank u for the tag but i actually don't have any current wip's except what's getting uploaded every week! which is a very weird feeling sejrhbfksjhrf)

heyhey!! 💕

ok so my process for fantasy au is actually so funny bc i set out to write the sequel and i was like yeah this'll be 10k max, probably 5k though, and now i am fast approaching 30k. this might be the first st fic that i'll actually have to split into chapters. there's a lot going on! i left part 1 on the cliffhanger of will being taken into the upside down, so now they've got to rescue him >:) but there's also plenty of fluff in store... i'm pretty sure more than i've ever written in my entire life HAHA. it's actually been so fun writing mike's pov in this one because he is just completely in love with will. i am just so completely itching to get it OUT OF MY BRAIN and when it is OUT i am going to collapse like an exhausted soldier. but i am CLOSE.

and p&p au!! my neglected baby 😭😭😭 i wrote and posted part of it a couple months ago (rain fight my BELOVED) and ugh it was so fun to write because i got to merge my fav book/movie with my fav ship ever and make it SOOO DRAMATIC. i really want to rewrite the whole book with byler as dizzy & henderhop as jane/bingley. it''s going to happen. TRUST. but like mike as darcy?? dustin as bingley?? like even their friendship right there is gonna be so fun to write in that AU. i'm so interested in like, mike's loyalty to his friends and will's to his family, as well as all the class dynamics. plus did i say darcy mike??? i'm never going to shut up about darcy mike. it's all i care about.

wip ask game!!

[rainofdaisies]

She decided to scroll through her contacts and found only one person with the label: online. She decidedly felt the need to ask if she wanted to call, feeling the need for solace

stalking. that's all. Don't take this seriously as this is like his actual personality, this is just a oneshot. Based Simpbur | Lonely Boy. Originally on Wattpad!

#

Y/N was curled up on the cushion of her couch, staring out the window as they listened to music from her headphones,  listening to music that she loved because it helped calm her down. Her eyes were glazed over with a look of complete and utter bliss and her lips were parted slightly as if there was something stuck in her mouth and she couldn't get it out.

There were dark circles under her eyes which spoke volumes about how tired she really was but Y/N didn't care. She could feel herself slipping into unconsciousness every so often even though she kept fighting against it with all her might.

It was a bit like when you have a fever which makes your body feel fuzzy and lightheaded. You can't stop thinking about everything around you. You just can't focus on anything for more than ten seconds at a time without having some sort of trouble keeping your mind straight.

When that happens your entire world is reduced to those moments that are happening now. It's like a movie and you're watching someone else live their life for a split second. 

She then felt like she was being watched for some reason, grabbed a chip bag, and turned off the lights, heading to her room. She thought, Why have I been feeling like this? She closed the blinds, continuing her series of watching her favorite Netflix series. 

She decided to scroll through her contacts and found only one person with the label: online. She decidedly felt the need to ask if she wanted to call, feeling the need for solace.

You

Hey Wilbur, wanna call? Feeling like I need to talk to someone about smtg

Wilbur

Sure Y/N

Anything for you

You're prolly in bed rn, right

You

ye

why?

Wilbur

[Wilbur has sent an attachment.]

You😃

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

You

😃

Wilbur

I'ma call you rq

[Incoming Call]

ACCEPT                    DECLINE

"Hey, Y/N," Wilbur said, seemingly whispering.

"Why're you whispering?"

"Never mind that! Anyways, how're you faring?"

"Uh, just feeling like I'm gettin stalked by someone right now. I'm not pretty enough to get stalked lmao."

"Did you just say lmao and not L-M-A-O?"

"Of course, I just did."

He then did a dramatic fainting pose, which resulted in her stifling a laugh. "And why do you think that you're being stalked? And don't tell me it's just my imagination because I know it isn't."

"It's not you! But maybe if you knew how much the person was following me you'd be able to tell me who it is."

He turned silent, then laughed as if she had gone crazy. "Are you telling me you got stalked by someone?!"

He sounded like he wasn't even kidding when he asked that. "That sounds impossible, Y/N! How would they find you anyway? Are you living alone? If so, how does that work?"

"Well, I do live alone -" she was cut off by Wilbur's chuckling and he appeared to be wiping tears off his face because of the hysterical laughter. When she felt that she'd said too much she quickly shut him down, cutting him off mid sentence. "Sorry Wilbur, I shouldn't have gotten so personal. I should go. Have fun. Talk to you later!"

"But I didn't-" Before he could finish his statement you hung up. What is with him today and why does he keep on like - shutting me out? That thought lingered in her mind as she shut down her laptop, setting it on her nightstand.

She took a moment before turning off her lamp, climbing in her bed and pulling the covers up to her chin. The only sound that could be heard was her heavy breathing from a lack of oxygen. As the minutes passed the feeling of being stared at crept back up and became so strong she decided to check her phone, having the urge to call emergency services, running and hiding in her closet.

And she accidentally dialed her friend without realizing it.

"Hello! Uh, I have a feeling that I'm being stalked by someone."

"Uh-huh! We'll be there in ten minutes! But don't come out of the closet, OK?" The 'operator' responded. Then, she heard a whisper of happily strung words.

"Huh...?"

And she saw the closer doors opening.

WORDS: 718

A/N: I don't think I can sleep after this ;')

[jakecstasy]

≡ ENHYPEN AND SMALL AFFECTION ACTS THEY MAKE UNCONSCIOUSLY !

© sooboys — please don’t translate/copy.

female!reader, non-idol!au, established relationship!au. 0,9k words. this is my first enhypen scenario so i decided to split it up, i will upload the maknae line part soon. please don't forget to stream drunk-dazed's mv to reach 45m!

MASTERLIST | NEXT ENHYPEN POST

— HEESEUNG ... !

little kisses, which never reach the lips. heeseung needs to be close to you all the time, his body naturally craves for physical closeness with you and consequently his mouth is always pressed in some sector. his eyes and hands may be totally focused on something he's doing, but if your head is resting on his shoulder his lips are pressed into your hair. if his chin is resting on your shoulder while you’re doing some kind of homework in front of him, his lips are pressed to your neck. 

"heeseung, i can’t focus!" "can't you read and feel ticklish at the same time?" “no!?!” if you are helping him because he asked you to give him a hand with some notes from a song, you'll be sitting next to him doing your assigned work while his lips are pressing repeatedly on your cheek. “is this okay?” you ask wanting to make sure you are doing it right. heeseung, without even looking at what you do: "mhm, perfect". 

if for any reason in the world you express verbally or wordlessly that it makes you uncomfortable, he will drop it as naturally as he does it. but, since you feel just as warm as him with it, 99% of the time you let him be as clingy as he wants. of course, when a long time passes without seeing each other, don’t expect anything other than a welcome full of very conscious kisses from his part. 

— JAY ... !

jay has created a habit of feeding you. as childish as it may seem, it is the way his brain keeps him paying attention to you. it starts from something as small as giving you the snacks he doesn't like himself, to sharing the largest portion of his favorite dish. although one of his purposes is to share with you and keep you well fed, most of the time he does it to maintain an interaction with you. 

find both watching a movie while you are lying on his chest, and him emptying a whole bag of gummies after giving them in your mouth. only when he wants to take one to his own mouth does he realize that he has already given them all to you. when you eat out or with a group of friends it’s always him who makes the others look at you tenderly. your friend, feigning jealousy with her boyfriend by her side: "why can't you be as cute with me as jay is with y/n?" you, with the fifth piece of meat in your mouth that he has given you: "don't. i've gained too much weight since we started dating". 

of course you joke about it, if at any point you reject something he gives you he will simply eat it and continue with what he is doing or talking about. please accept all the snacks he gives to you because even if you actually gain weight, you are still the person jay wants to give absolutely everything to.

— JAKE ... !

jake always shares his clothes with you. it might seem like the smoothest move just to see you in his hoodie or one of his shirts, but he does it genuinely because the two of you share styles. jake sees you as that friend with whom he can always share/match outfits, and he never fails when it comes to giving you the right garment that you need for that idea that you have in mind but cannot nail down with your own closet. 

he possibly falls to reality when someone else comments on it, making him all flustered as he realizes that he can somehow presume that you are his girlfriend. the moment you say something like: "i love this perfume you wear" while sniffing his jacket, or, "this shirt reminds me of the date we had in the park!" 

this poor boy won’t be able to lend you something again if it’s not with the biggest and brightest smile on his face. it just makes him so happy that from such a simple and involuntary action can arise reactions that make his heart flutter. the more you mention about it, the more he will take your opinion on account when buying new clothes that you will later wear as well. 

— SUNGHOON ... !

cuddling you in your sleep. sunghoon has been very confident of himself when it came to winning you over, but once he has the privilege of being your boyfriend, things get a little more difficult. he is still learning the basics of a formal relationship, and thus, physical affection is something that makes him quite nervous and shy due to your reaction. the riskiest thing he does when you’re paying attention to him is to hold your hand and play with your fingers, but he is too scared to think that he is exceeding his limits by wanting to hug or kiss you out of nowhere. 

that is why his body acts on its own when you’re asleep or you are not exactly paying attention to him. his arm always rests on your shoulder or around your waist, keeping you as close as he really wants. there have not been many opportunities in which you have noticed this, but when you are actually awake and can feel it, you grab his hand or stroke his arm as naturally as it has to be. you do like physical contact, and with those little positive responses sunghoon starts to get a little braver. 

he makes you know in the most indirectly obvious way his wishes, saying random things like: "i like how it feels to hold you", "it's much warmer to sleep close to you" or "it feels weird when i'm not holding your hand, y/n". just encourage him to be as demonstrative as he wants, and he will voluntarily be the cutest boyfriend.

🧸 ... thanks for reading ! 

[cr0g-0]

A long awaited post from us since it’s been waaaaaaay to long since a post!! I do hope you enjoy part 1 of many

P.s-This fic will be uploaded part by part but as of now it’s being written all on the same doc so if the beginnings seem a bit abrupt that is why!

Tw-Accidental Dehumanization, Safe Noms, Talk of Death, Talks of Fatal noms(Doesn’t happen)

Total word count: 3021

———————————

A Great Divide Between You and Me (When did you become so cruel) [I]

———————————

Tommy was…well…apprehensive about this whole idea. Don’t get him wrong-he’d do it if Wilbur was a hundred percent sure but still…he wasn’t too sure about this whole…pretending to actually eat Wilbur.

“C’mon Tommy! You said you wanted to do a prank that would shock and scare the hell out of everyone and this couldn’t be a better prank!” The borrower exclaimed. Wilbur was excited by the prospect of scaring his friends on April fools. Every other year Tommy and he had either made them laugh till they couldn’t stand or they ticked them off a little. 

Wilbur wanted to see what scaring them would be like. Mix it up and such.

“I know I know…it’s just…you think they might take it the wrong way?” Wilbur shook his head. 

“Tommy-Toms-no one will think you legitimately decided to eat me.” 

“I mean-I guess if you're sure then…ok fine-I’ll do it. But you owe me a fuck ton of ice cream and shit. I’m doing this for you after all.” Tommy stubbornly crossed his arms, huffing. Wilbur just let out a bubbly laugh. 

“Alright alright fine I’ll buy you some ice cream tomorrow if you can effectively pull the wool over their eyes and convince them you did the deed successfully.”

Tommy let out what sounded like a whine and a groan, nodding slowly and dramatically as Tommy usually did. “If I fail can I still get a single tub of ice cream?”

The brunet hummed, closing his eyes and tapping his finger on his chin in thought. Tommy blinked at Wilbur with a deadpan look. “I swear to prime I will legitimately eat you regardless of this stupid prank if you don’t buy me ice cream-“

Wilbur paused and for a split second, Tommy swore he saw fear but if Wilbur had been afraid? Well, he wasn’t showing it anymore because the borrower was doubled over in a fit of laughs and Tommy felt his worry melt away. “Ok ok no need to threaten me child-I’ll buy you a single tub if you fail ok?”

Tommy grumbled, pretending to be pissed off about it but he was grinning wide. “Yeah, that's fair big man. Makes sense to me but make sure it’s mint chip or you're dead-“ He jokingly growled, poking the other gently. 

Wilbur stumbled back slightly and lightly swatted at Tommy’s finger. “Mhm-ok sure Toms. Like you would ever kill your favorite brother-”

“Nope Techno is actually my favorite brother-Sorry Wilby.” Tommy shrugged and Wilbur snorted, rolling his eyes disbelievingly.

“Oh please child-you gave me the nickname Wilby. Are you seriously gonna sit here and tell me, out of both me and Techno, he’s the favorite?” “Well-I-oh just shut up Wil-” The blond spluttered out, his face having turned a bright red in embarrassment. Curse Wilbur for always being right-

Getting back on track, Tommy scooped Wilbur up, holding him gently in cupped hands. Wilbur settled quickly, getting comfortable and preparing mentally. 

“Alright well let’s get this prank on the road hmm? I have some morons to scare!” The brunet laughed before nodding his head. 

“Let us get on with it. I have a nap I need to take-“ He joked as Tommy brought Wilbur closer to his face and more specifically, towards his mouth.

Wilbur tensed up just a little, part of his mind still screaming his life was in danger just like it had the first time he had been found…and by all accounts he had been in danger that first time but after all the bonding and movie nights they had really become a family for him…

But of course he was still somewhat frightened of the whole thing.

And he wouldn’t lie but some of the things his friends said to him made him…immensely uncomfortable…not that he’d say anything on the subject. He didn’t want them to think he couldn’t handle what was obviously a joke…

But hey-he wouldn’t be seeing any of them till dinner tonight. First up, Tommy would go and kind of discreetly hint before outright admitting that he had ‘eaten’ Wilbur to Phil, Techno. Then it was on to Tubbo and Ranboo if Tommy was able to get a hold of them. They were always busy trying to prank each other the day after so one of them was usually shopping for prank supplies  depending on the year. Then, if they couldn’t get a hold of either of them they went to meet up at Dream’s before going back home for dinner where Tommy would reveal that everything was fine.

Wilbur was particularly interested to hear what Skeppy thought of the whole thing considering he was also a borrower like him. 

Skeppy was one of, if not thee, best at deciphering he and Tommy’s pranks. One year, they had pretended not to know each other and most everyone was actually convinced Tommy and him had amnesia or something. The two always made sure the lead up to a prank was flawless so it actually felt and seemed real. The month before the amnesia prank they had both been ‘having issues remembering where things were’ and ‘remembering Wilbur was a borrower or that Tommy was human.’ 

The other borrower was by far the most unconvinced and saw through Tommy and Wilbur’s facades so quickly that the two ended up admitting it was a prank before they had gotten to dinner that day. 

Would Skeppy be worried or totally knowing as he usually was? Wilbur was going with the second one surprisingly. As much as it would suck for another prank not to last till dinner, it wouldn’t be a shock.

He had always been asked by either Skeppy or Bad if he felt alright or if he was uncomfortable after hearing an off handed remark about just wanting to eat Wilbur because he was a nuisance. 

“Uh-Wilbur…you know it’s ok to tell them if they say anything that upsets you right? I mean-usually they're joking but still. If it makes you uncomfortable you should say something alright man?” The blue clad borrower had put his hands on Wilbur’s shoulders. Quackity had…made a very unnerving comment about how easy he could just eat Wilbur and no one would stop him and unsurprisingly, Bad and Skeppy quickly brought Wilbur to another room to just calm him down. He hadn’t noticed it till he left the room but he had been shaking more than he had thought. Bad had dropped them both off and had gone to call Phil to pick him up, making up some nonsense about Wilbur feeling ill and needing rest.

“I-I can handle a joke though…obviously it was just a joke…” Wilbur had mumbled quietly and Skeppy had just let out an exasperated sigh. 

“I know it sucks to think but-imagine if it wasn’t a joke. You have every single right to feel uncomfortable, upset and downright afraid if someone says that; because if you don’t speak up then they’ll think it’s ok to keep saying or-in a worst case scenario-they’ll think they can go and e-eat you.” Skeppy could barely keep the tremors that came from his voice

Wilbur hadn’t hidden the shiver and chill that made its way through his whole body. He shakily nodded his head though, The other was right after all…if he never voiced his thoughts they’d go unheard.

“Alright. I’ll try to be more vocal about my feelings and opinions.”

The older brown haired borrower looked like he had wanted to talk more about the subject when the doorbell rang and Bad returned, offering the two his hand. They appeared to be just the slightest stressed out looking about this whole thing. The borrowers hopped onto his hands and he held them up to his chest. “I am so very sorry Wilbur-I’ll make sure to have a very…strongly worded conversation with everyone ok?” Skeppy had let out a small giggle, already grinning a bit and having returned to his mood from earlier in the day. “Ooo is Bad gonna finally cuss Quackity out?” Wilbur could tell that he had been trying to lighten the mood and he…he had appreciated it.Bad seemed to appreciate this much less.“I-Skeppy you muffinhead! I meant-Oh you know what I meant-!” He had spluttered out, his face having gotten a dusting of pink and red before he tried to calm down, returning his focus to the original, albeit sore, subject. 

“All jokes aside I’ll g-“

“N-No you don’t need to! Seriously-It’s fine. You don’t need to tell anyone anything. It’s not like I live here so they shouldn’t have to change the things they say.”

Bad had looked hesitant but nodded, dropping the conversation. Skeppy seemed frustrated at that but he hadn’t said anything on the subject.

“Wilbur are you alright? You’ve been just kinda staring in a bit of a daze. Helloooooo?” Tommy poked Wilbur gently with a finger and his brother barely moved.

“Willllll-“ The human whined, bringing Wilbur much closer before licking him to just try and get the borrower back into focus.

That got Wilbur’s attention seeing as the borrower nearly jumped out of his hand. “T-Tommy?”

“Bigman you kinda just-stopped looking alive for a bit. You ok?”

Wilbur nodded. “I-I’m ok Toms.”

“Are you sure? If you don’t want to do this now that’s ok w-“ 

“No, we're doing it. I said we were and we are so just get on it.” Wilbur snapped and Tommy seemed apprehensive as he pushed Wilbur into his mouth, his mouth already watering at the delightful flavor of milk chocolate coming from his mouth.

The blond's pupils dilated a little as he began to coat Wilbur in saliva, purring softly.

Maybe he shouldn’t have opposed this idea so much…

He continued to lick at the borrower, noting that he was squirming around a little now and he began to push him towards the back of his throat. 

Normally he’d probably bite a borrower, their blood tasted heavenly after all-but the more awake side of him told him that this was his brother.

Which of course meant he couldn’t hurt him because if he did he might not even see him again and he for sure knew normal him would be so very upset with himself. So, with that in mind he opted to continue licking him, pressing him up against his teeth and gently nibbling on his tail.

The nibbling was…very short lived as he felt a sharp jab at his tongue and he let out an animalistic whine. “Tommy no tail nibbling! You know how sensitive it is-”

Letting out an annoyed huff, he moved the borrower back to his tongue , pressing them below his tongue, purring quietly as he swallowed the building saliva in his mouth.

Wilbur squirmed around a little, grumbling in annoyance as he shoved the tongue that continued to coat him in thick and sticky saliva.

“Ok Tommy I think you got me covered enough-“ He forced a chuckle though he wasn’t sure why he felt a pit of anxiety and nervousness pooling in his stomach. It wasn’t like he was in danger. This was Tommy after all.

The blond hummed, reluctantly moving them back to the center of his tongue before tilting his head back, swallowing them gently. A hand went up to his throat as he rubbed and massaged his throat to get the borrower down.

Wilbur squirmed around the tight, squishy throat as he was tugged down the slimy throat, his tail flitting about as he tried to keep his calm. His stupid instincts screamed that he was in danger but he knew he wasn’t…

Hopefully.

There was another tug and he passed the teenagers collarbone. He heard the steady, resonating purrs and the beating of his heart. The noises calmed his fears. He was probably fine. He slipped into a more spacious pouch and tensed before forcing his body to relax. He brought his tail to his chest and ran his hands through the saliva soaked fur.

Tommy softly smiled, rubbing at his storage as he continued to purr, the fog in his head starting to clear slightly.

What had he been doing again? Right-he had a prank to pull off. He poked his storage a little. “How’s my favorite snack doing?” Tommy teased, smirking to himself as he felt the borrower inside tense and squirm a little.

“Prime, give me some warning when you do that Tommy-And don’t call me a snack either.”

“Oh whatever snack-“ Tommy poked his storage again, once more teasing his brother before going towards the door of his room. He assumed Wilbur was just joking as well.

Wilbur had been dead serious when he said he didn’t want to be called a snack. It…It rubbed him the wrong way…

It reminded him of his first meeting with Tommy. That meeting had been a disaster and he had thought he’d die a horribly painful death.

Oddly enough, Tommy had taken what he had thought was pity upon him and helped him get better after a particularly dilapidating fall.

And then…well the unofficial and undocumented adoption had quickly followed.

But that had been around the last time Tommy had ever called him a snack till now and he wasn’t sure how he should feel about all this. He laid back though for now, getting comfortable as he focused on listening to Tommy and the conversation that would follow.

Tommy hummed, as he walked down the stairs to see Techno and Phil in the living room. April fools day always had them very attentive and he found it hilarious.

“Good morning!”

“…Morning Tommy…….”  Techno hesitantly greeted.

“Hey Toms. Where’s your brother?” Tommy bit back a grin. Perfect, Phil had fallen right into his trap and he was sure Phil wouldn’t know. 

Tommy nonchalantly shrugged. “Uh-right here duh-“

“Tommy, I think he meant Wilbur.” 

He scoffed as if even saying Wilbur’s name offended him deeply.. “Oh. Yeah. I don’t know.”

Phil frowned but he forced his smile back on his face, shrugging. “He might just be sleeping in. I wouldn’t worry.”

Techno looked at Phil as if he had three heads and the other groaned. “Phil it is April fools day those to menaces to society are always up to something and especially today-“

Tommy rolled his eyes a little but Phil just sighed.

“Ok well are we all ready for breakfast? Aside from Wilbur obviously because he isn’t here right now.” Tommy held back another wide smile. They were hitting every beat he needed them to hit for this to work.

“I already had a little snack so I’m already full.”

“…Didn’t Phil confiscate all your snacks?”

The blond shrugged. “Well I got myself some milk chocolate and it really tasted delicious.”

“…….I….I tossed all the milk chocolate mate…”

Tommy let his grin finally appear. “He really tasted as good as he smelt~”

The silence was satisfying…the tension was less satisfying but he had gotten to the first step of today's elaborate joke.

Techno looked dumbfounded, shock obvious in his eyes as he stared at Tommy, mouth agape. Tommy barely noticed the pinkettes hands clenching into fist.

Phil looked shellshocked for a moment before he seemed to grow hurt and confused. “You’re surely joking-tell us your joking-“

Tommy laughed. “Of course I’m not joking! I was going to eat him eventually-just wanted to taste his betrayal. I just pretended to care about him.”

He felt a small amount of squirming within him. He ignored it.

He felt all eyes on him and he was about to start talking again when Techno spoke up.

“How could you say that!? He-He was your brother!! That-That brotherly love always looked real-surely it was real!!! You wouldn’t have waited three fucking years to eat him!!!” Techno looked on the verge of tears, his voice raised unusually high. Tommy wasn’t gonna back out though. Wilbur would be disappointed if he didn’t follow through with the whole prank.

The teen shrugged, seemingly uncaring of the whole situation. As if this had been expected though it was really far from it…well it was far from it in the sense that it was just a joke.

“I don’t see the problem. I was just disposing of a pest. A nuisance that was overstaying its welcome.”

A silence hit the room. It was heavy, thick with tension. 

And then there was a blur of pink headed straight toward Tommy. Techno’s fist made contact with Tommy’s nose and a crack seemingly echoed through the room. Before Techno could land another blow Phil raced over, grabbing Techno into a hug so he couldn’t hit Tommy again.

Techno clawed and flailed about, trying to break free of Phil’s hug that was more like a wall keeping him from Tommy who was currently nursing his nose, some blood getting on his hands.

“Spit him out-Do it right here, right now or else I’m never going to talk to you ever.” Techno hissed out, eyes seemingly shimmering with rage, hate and above all-

Tears. Tears of grief. Tears for the brother that he believed was dead.

Phil’s voice came out crackly. “T-Techno…mate give it a rest….Wilbur…Wilbur is…”

Dead. The word didn’t need to be said. It was already what they were all thinking.

Techno looked to the ground. “Why don’t we all get breakfast hmm? You’ll both feel a lot better I’m sure.” Tommy suggested, already trying to get his family more…upset though it didn’t seem very smart now that he was looking at it but oh well-neither his brother nor father reacted, silently heading into the kitchen. He followed after them and sat down. “Uhm…I think we’ll just have some cereal today.” He wiped at his nose. He should get a bandage to cover that up before he went to Quackity’s.

Techno remained despondent, clearly glaring at the ground but Tommy could tell he was crying. It felt a little bad but he was overreacting. Borrower tasted great-he didn’t even need to kill him to enjoy the flavor! This was such an overreaction.

Phil got the cereal and handed it to the two. Everyone ate in total silence.

[maxwell-grant]

Having asked your thoughts on designing Frankenstein's daemon, might I now ask your thoughts on bringing Count Dracula from the written word into illustration? (I'm definitely in favour of the 'Hairy Old Mountain Man of Horror pretending he's people' look from the original novel; one of the small tests too many Draculas fail to pass is an absolutely tragic lack of the Evil Beard and/or Wicked Moustache explicitly described by Mr Stoker).

Unlike with Frankenstein, where I think the design needs to be painstakingly thought out in order to achieve the best balance of the creature's traits for horror and tragedy alike, I think with Dracula you can actually just take an approach of "whatever works". Because as I mentioned before, I think much of the appeal and longevity of Dracula is how the character's both a layered villain as well as a shapeshifting narrative force that can be tailored to whatever you want to do with. Granted, there are bad or dissappointing Dracula designs, of course there are, but in regards to the leeway you get for reinterpretation, you get a lot more of it with Dracula than with other literary icons.

Like with Frankenstein, I'm gonna bring up how I'd tackle a less grim, more comedy-centric Dracula first, one that's less a force of horror and more of a charismatic villain, and I think to that end I definitely agree that people are sleeping a lot on the hairy old man barely-passing-off-as-humanoid of the original story. Despite very much loving these performers, I'm actually not a fan of takes that mold Dracula too closely to people who've portrayed him, like Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee, partially because I think it's a waste of an opportunity to create your own Dracula design. Since I can't draw (yet), I'll do what I usually do and make a board of images to try and convey some of my thoughts on one way I'd design Dracula.

(Pictured: Kiwi's design for Dracula, Hotel Transylvania concept art, Nandor, Castlevania Dracula, Charles Dance in Dracula Untold, Vladislav, a Transylvanian rug)

I used the images in my other Dracula post and I’ll post it here again because I absolutely adore @kiwibyrd's designs for Dracula and it's main heroes, in particular I love the way it strikes a good balance at making sure Dracula looks distinctly separate from the humans, but not too much that he couldn't conceivably operate in society as just a harmless old man. I also adore the mustache and bushy eyebrows and pointy ears and I think these three are wonderful features to keep on any Dracula design. I'm also very partial to the Hotel Transylvania concept art, even if it makes me incredibly depressed to look at all the great designs they had for Dracula that they threw in the trash because they somehow decided making him look like Adam Sandler was the idea to go with.

I deeply adore What We Do In The Shadows, both the movie and the show, and Jemaine Clement's Vladislav is one of my favorite (maybe even my actual favorite) on-screen Draculas. But I also enjoy Nandor just as much, and I think it's really great that as a character he's completely different from Vlad while also being ostensibly a take on Dracula, and in particular I bring up his Jersey look because "Dracula in common clothing" is a criminally underrated concept for a joke.

As a character, I'm very partial to comedy takes on Dracula that play him up as a decadent aristocratic supervillain, the kind that can get away with talking in third person. I also have this idea for a version of Dracula who dresses ostentatiously in finely-broidered Romanian or Transylvanian patterns, maybe even wearing a rug as a cape, claiming that he's carrying the legacy of his people on his back. And of course he's lying, he's not Vlad Tepes and he's not even Romanian, he is just a parasite pretending to have a history to be proud of, but good luck getting him to admit that. And finally, I'd like this version to be played by Charles Dance, and I consider it a tremendous crime against humanity that he has yet to play Dracula proper even despite being in a film with the character's name on the title.

So that's kinda how I would design a take on Dracula for something more comedic or more based around him as this guest character and personality on-set. Now, if we're talking a more serious version, I think the possibilities increase, and I won't be getting into all of them because I may prefer to keep them to myself, but I'll elaborate a few ideas.

For example, the edition of Dracula I personally own comes with these really scratchy, really creepy B&W illustrations related to the story, that I can't find scanned online so I'm uploading them here so you can look at. They don't necessarily depict the scenes but rather some of the story's moments, like Van Helsing staking Lucy, Renfield in a straightjacket, Dracula as a coachman, and they are more focused on conveying the horror of the concepts at play.

Dracula never looks the same way in any of the illustrations, in fact you kinda have to piece him out of them by trying to find teeth or capes or eyes or bat-features to see where he's hiding this time. In the first, it's the half-man half-bat, in the 2nd, he's the shrieking bat silhouette next to Renfield, and in the latter, he's the gaping jaws and eerily humanoid eyes in the wolf. The effect to me almost feels like if you were to look at a bunch of tv static and then see a humanoid shape form for a split second before everything went back to normal, something like you'd get from Slender Man or other modern creepypastas, and I’ve argued before that Dracula’s form of horror is a very modern one. 

In terms of illustrations of Dracula that keep up the original traits while still pulling off horror, I definitely have to hand it to the one at the left of the image above, drawn by regourso on Deviantart (account deleted at present). Going back to Castlevania’s many takes on Dracula, two in particular that stick out to me would be Castlevania: Judgment’s armored dress Dracula, who’s got this great twisted heart/rose motif going on in his outfit, and Dracula’s final form in SOTN where he just sits in his throne and his cape twists into all these monsters, particularly how it’s depicted by witnesstheabsurd’s depiction. 

I’m not particularly a fan of how Dracula’s “final form” in these games is usually just some big demon, and part of what I like about his final form in SOTN instead is that, while it’s not a particularly challenging final boss, I do find it interesting the idea of us never actually getting to see what Dracula’s true final form looks like, only an ever-shifting pitch-black torrent of teeth and claws and bloody veins pouring out because that’s ultimately what Dracula is and brings to the world.

On the flip-side of the rotten old monster, we have the charming seductor Dracula, and while I’m really not a fan of how various adaptations have convinced people that “the point” of Dracula is that he’s a seductive force and an allegory for Victorian xenophobia and I’m reeeally even less of a fan of adaptations that make Dracula some misunderstood tragic hero (and I think I’ve made rather violently clear my feelings on interpretations that play up a romance between him and Mina), that the seductive force part exists is impossible to deny, so conversely, while on one hand we can have Dracula as the gargantuan whirlwind of predatory violence, we can also go for Dracula as the tantalizing lover.

I’ve seen a lot of opinions proclaiming Frank Langella as the best Dracula because he was the best at actually being seductive while still playing Dracula, although I haven’t yet seen his performances. If I had to point at one picture I look at and do buy for a second the idea of Dracula as a romantic character, it would be that particular still of Raul Julia in the left of the above image. And it’s strange for me to think of Raul Julia as attractive because I mainly associate him with his brilliant comedy performance of M.Bison (I know it’s far from the highlight of his career but, look, I grew up with Street Fighter, I can’t help it) but those eyes are definitely looking pretty convincing to me, if nothing else. 

And I’ve included this still of Sebastian Stan in the right because, during a conversation between me, @krinsbez and @jcogginsa about who could be a good fit for Dracula, jcog suggested Sebastian Stan, partially because he’s Romanian, and I’ve learned recently that Stan was actually interested in playing the character in Blumhouse’s upcoming remake. And you’d think I’d hate this idea  considering how much I don’t care for tragic anti-hero Draculas, but who says that’s what he’d have to play? 

Do you have any idea how much actors, who are traditionally known for heroic or supporting roles, usually LOVE it when you give them a chance to cut loose as the main villain?

I’d want Sebastian Stan to put all of his charm, all of his talent, all of his good looks and etc, into playing the absolute most vicious, bloodthirsty and irredeemable Dracula put on screen. Someone who is exceedingly, eerily good at being a lovable protagonist, who’s all smiles and charming eyes and politeness mannerisms and maybe even a funny accent, and then it isn't as funny when he's flying through your window intent on kidnapping babies to feed to his brides, except he may take a moment or two to do so because he's feeling pretty hungry himself right now.

Now, admittedly this is kind of a lot to juggle in regards to a single character, which is why my answer for questions like these inevitably has to be “depends on what I’m going for”. That being said, if I was going to try and cast someone who I think could both look the part of Dracula, as well as respectively, play “cartoon aristocrat” Dracula, “mercurial embodiment of evil” Dracula, as well as realistically be an attractive, even seductive performer who can charm viewers even as the character descends into horrible villainy, and juggle these performances even?

I think I’d have to go with Mads Mikkelsen. Not specifically because of Hannibal (I actually haven’t watched it yet), although it’s definitely a factor, the thing that actually made me pick him specifically is, other than his looks, his voice, his reputation for playing sinister characters, the fact that he loves the role and wants to play it, or how many people are deeply in love with this man, or that people already joke that he looks like a vampire, was watching him in Another Round, and specifically that glorious final scene where he’s just dancing to his heart’s content and just, moving with such spring in his step and such joyful vitality even though he’s past his mid-fifties, and that was the moment where, in regards to how much you all love this man, I went

And now I am going to add “casting Mads Mikkelsen as a dancing Dracula” to The List of Reasons Why I Became a Filmmaker.

[witchwitha-b]

So another try to get this part of the collaboration with @paigenoelchas-blog and other writers to upload 😮‍💨 Maybe this time it will work, if it worked the parts are split! I know it's annoying and I wanted to do it completely but there seems to be no other way😑 I got inspired by movies like Pride and Prejudice, little women and musicals like Hamilton and Cyrano for this part! I hope this works 🙏

I hope you like it! Have a great day<3

PS: I listened to a playlist while writing to get me in the mood 😅 I will link it for you on the other part.

PPS : if this works thanks for the help @x3kristax3

Dusty Rooms and Poetry (somewhere in America 1840)

Hospital - Jake

I'm walking through the white room, restless as I watch her still sleeping figure in the bed. She looks so small in it, as if she could shatter into a million pieces any second. My skin itches just to think about her never waking up again, my head hurts I should stop thinking altogether. My phone rings constantly, it's mostly Lilly and Hannah worrying about me and her, sometimes the other try to contact me as well but I just can't stand to text them. Not yet. Not right now. I shut off my phone and throw it back onto the small night stand beside her bed. I'm restless but tired, I'm nauseous but hungry, I'm dehydrated but I'm still crying somehow. I sit down on the chair that became like a second bed to me, like support when my legs failed to do so. Her hand is warm but it's not enough, I brush away her hair, put a little streak behind her ear and caress her soft cheek. "Hey there, my love." I say and do something that I started since we arrived here but never did before. I pray and hope to whoever might hear that she can feel and hear what I do and say. "I remembered that one movie you forced me to watch with you. And I know that I looked bored but I actually really enjoyed it and I enjoyed how much you fell in love with it. Like I fell in love with you. And I couldn't stand to see you cry because of the ending but I guess I have to get used to it, right? You are a emotional person and I love this passion about you. I remembered the movie because I was thinking too much again then I started to have this poem in my head. Maybe I write it down, read it to you. I'm sure you would love it."

I would love to hear your poem... It makes me happy... I think before I slip into another unwanted but needed sleep

Somewhere in America 1840

"MC wake up! Wake up!" I open my eyes and at that exact moment my Amme opens the heavy curtains of my room. Light floods every corner and I close my eyes once more to not become too overwhelmed. "Come on get up my lovely child. You have a big day today." I open one eye and look at her. " Big day?" She takes my arms softly and drags me into a sitting position, her brown eyes wide with shock. "Have you forgotten already? You are going to meet the bankers son!" I roll my eyes and push away the duvet. "What if I don't love him? You know what the people say...he is bizarre." My Amme pushes me off the bed and drags me over to the bathroom, sits me down onto a chair and begins to clean my face and body with a wet cloth. Her rosé dress swings carefully with her movements and the white bonnet is secure around her head. "Since when do you care about the talk of the people? And apart from that even if he is as bizarre as the people say, he can provide for you. Give you a good life, my sweet child." I close my eyes against the cold, wet cloth in my face which does not keep me from speaking. "I'm frightened, Amme. Frightened that I will not love him." She stops for a second. "My dear....children need love. Adults need a secure future and women need a safe, provided life. There is no need to fear as long as you have one of those things. Now let's get you dressed, my dear." We stand up and walk back into the bedroom. She began to dress me for the day, starting with my undergarments and the corset, then the under petticoat, the crinoline and then the over petticoat. Next came the camisole and we finished everything with the dress and the shoes. It was pale yellow with black features, I did not pick it out but I loved it immediately and was very grateful to have my Amme. " Now let's eat and then he will arrive." Amme starts to rush towards the door but I stop her halfway through. "I don't think I can swallow a thing, my dearest Amme." Her brown eyes look back at me and I know exactly what they say. "You will still try, Catalina put a lot of effort into your food as she always does." I huff quietly before I nod and join her.

[jayeray-twst]

How He Shows You Affection: Cater Diamond

Warnings: None all fluff!

He Takes Pictures of You

“Say strawberry!” Cater ordered with a toothy grin, as he snagged you around the waist and pulled you close, pressing your cheeks together with his arm extended out, holding his phone.

Several months of dating meant you were now quick enough on the draw to smile at the camera for the first snap of the shutter and were even quicker to turn your face to the side, pressing an affectionate kiss to your boyfriend’s cheek before he managed to hit the button again.

“Babe!” he whined a playful lilt to his voice that probably would’ve fooled most, but you saw right through it to the faint blush on his cheeks and the warm look in his eyes.

Cater always got a little flustered when you did little things like that to catch him off guard, which was only fair in your opinion considering how much he did it to you. Your boyfriend had enjoyed flustering you, and gone out of his way to tease, and flirt just to see if he could.

“Let me see?” you asked, making grabby hands at his phone. He immediately passed it over without complaint, pulling you into his arms and resting his chin on your shoulder so he could see the screen too as you looked at the photos he’d taken.

The first was pretty cute, with wide beaming smiles on both your faces, but the second one definitely stole the show. As per usual, even when caught off guard Cater managed to take the picture at the perfect moment, just as your lips brushed his cheek. His eyes were wide with surprise and there was the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks.

“Cute,” you cooed, pleased with the way it had come out, “You going to post that on MagiCam?”

“You know me so well,” he teased, giving you an affectionate squeeze around the middle before accepting his phone back, “We really take the best pictures together babe!”

“If you say so,” you told him lightly.

“I do say so!” he informed you, one hand still holding you to him as his clever fingers tapped away at the screen of his phone one handed, “You’re so photogenic it should be against the rules!”

You huffed in affectionate amusement. Honestly you were pretty sure the only reason you came out looking half so good in all the photos Cater took of the two of you was because he had an eye for it. Cater’s ability with a camera was exemplary, enough to put professionals to shame in your own opinion and frankly you were more than a little flattered that his favorite subject seemed to be you.

His timeline on MagiCam was full to the bursting of pictures of you, doing everything and anything under the sun, almost all of them candid or taken with only a split second’s notice and yet somehow you looked good in all of them. Not only that, but all the pictures were tagged with flattering words about how amazing you looked and how blessed he was to have you and to be your boyfriend.

Looking at it never failed to make you feel warm inside. MagiCam was a huge part of Cater’s life, and when it came to his content you were front and center. It was like his entire timeline was a testament, his own unspoken way of showing his devotion to you more eloquent than any words could ever be. After all if a picture was worth a thousand words than Cater had written entire epochs on how much he adored you.

“Alright all uploaded!” he cheered, pulling you from your fond thoughts and twirling you around in his arms with a bright laugh, “Now that, that’s done we should probably go check up on the A-Deuce combo. They’re supposed to be painting the roses, but knowing the two of them…”

You laughed in agreement and let him drag you off to go check on Heartslabyul’s two most troublesome first years, feeling immensely fond of your boyfriend.

Later when you were scrolling through your own social media you weren’t surprised to find the picture of the two of you from earlier beaming smiles at the camera, tagged with mushy cute things like #loveofmylife, #smilebabe, #aren’twecute?. However the picture of you kissing his cheek was missing.

You fully intended to ask him about it the next day, right up until you caught sight of his phone again. The picture was there both in his background and as his lock screen staring you in the face. You honestly couldn’t do anything in the face of that besides melt and give your sweet boyfriend an affectionate kiss, feeling completely and utterly adored.

He Tells You (And Only You)

Cater was the kind of guy who flirted with everyone, so at times it could be hard to take his words seriously. Compliments like beautiful, wonderful, and precious were a dime a dozen, and not limited to just you either. His whole personality seemed to be exuberant, extroverted and friendly, the kind of guy who had friends everywhere because he had no trouble making friends. He felt almost unreal with how perfect he was.

There were times, especially at the beginning of your relationship that it had made you incredibly insecure. Cater was popular, both through MagiCam and just in general, and you had no idea why he’d want to be with you of all people when it seemed like he could have anyone he wanted. In the face of your worries his words almost felt insincere, shallow and hollow, as if he didn’t really mean them because he said them to everyone he met.

However, the longer you were with him the more you realized something incredibly important. Despite the compliments that fell from his lips at the drop of a hat Cater never, ever used the word love. Sure there was an implication of love, as he said things like “I adore this’ or ‘I’m wild about that’. He said ‘I’m captivated’ or ‘I’m infatuated’ or ‘I’m enthralled’ but never ever ‘I’m in love.’

It was like the words were anathema to him, almost as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it at all. It was then you realized, slowly but surely that a lot of the face he showed to the world was a carefully crafted mask. Just as you’d suspected no one could be quite that perfect, happy and friendly all the time.

Cater got frustrated, anxious and annoyed just as anyone else did, he was just much better at hiding it. There was also a pretty vicious side to him, one that could hurl lethal insults wrapped in so many honeyed words that only those who were looking for it or really paying attention to him noticed.

Funnily enough this actually made you relax. It humanized him, and made him seem more relatable rather than the near perfect being he’d seemed before. Once you realized how much he was hiding you carefully did your best be worthy of his trust, so he could have a safe place to rest. After all keeping up a cheerful mask at all times sounded utterly exhausting to you no matter how good he was at it.

Slowly but surely, he’d begun to let his walls down, coming to you when he had a rough day, sitting in silence with you, cuddling with you, enjoying quiet little moments that you once would’ve thought he’d hate. Instead Cater seemed to relish these stolen moments with you, and as you began to truly see each other for who you were rather than the face you both showed the world you finally got to hear it.

Love. A word he admitted he hadn’t quite believed in and so had never bothered to say. A word he felt was trite and meaningless because of how often it was said over every little thing. A word you’d managed to change his mind about, one that was special and intimate and meant only for the two of you.

“I love you,” you murmured to your boyfriend as the two of you lay cuddled together on his bed, curled up and quietly watching movies together on his laptop. It was something you didn’t say nearly as often these days, as you’d slowly adapted to Cater’s way of thinking that saying it about too many things cheapened the meaning in a lot of ways.

“I love you too,” he assured you, equally quiet, his normal exuberance set aside in placed of utmost sincerity, the words so real and rare on his tongue that you had no choice but to believe them.

He’d only ever said them to you, only ever planned to say them to you, a word that was meant for you and you alone, a little piece of his heart with your name stamped clearly in ownership. It was a privilege you savored and treated with the utmost care, it was the very least you could do to prove your own affections for your boyfriend who cared so very much.

He Makes Things For You

“How do I look?” you asked your boyfriend shyly as you emerged from the dressing room.

Normally trying on clothes with Cater was a lot of fun. Even if you didn’t enjoy shopping all that much Cater made it into an experience. He had an extremely good eye for what would look good on someone and what wouldn’t. and put a lot of interesting things together. He was also perceptive enough to know what would make you uncomfortable and what wouldn’t, and work within your comfort zone.

It made him the idea shopping partner, and lots of fun, especially since he was more than happy to try on anything you asked for him as well. Honestly it was a bit unfair just how good Cater looked in pretty much everything. There were a few times you’d purposefully tried to pick silly things and yet, whether it was sheer force of personality or because he was simply that handsome he always seemed to look good. Still it was fun to try, and the two of you always had a good time together, laughing and teasing joyfully, and you almost never left empty handed.

This however was different. Cater had always had an eye for fashion, and had occasionally dabbled in making his own clothing. However, he’d never really taken it all too seriously before, despite the fact that perfectionist Riddle recognized his talent and had let him design the outfits for when they had to dress up for unbirthday parties.

Despite that, it had never occurred to you that Cater might want to try designing something for you. However he’d apparently wanted to do just that, as he’d shyly approached you with the suggestion when you’d complimented some of his work. That in itself had let you know how very important this was to him. Cater was never shy, so the fact that he’d been so hesitant to ask said a lot.

Which was of course why you’d agreed without a moment’s hesitation. Honestly even if he hadn’t been so shy about it you would’ve said yes. Cater knew your style inside and out and you trusted him more than words could say.

Your trust turned out to be well founded, and the outfit he’d made for you was utter perfection. It was done in colors that flattered your skin, eyes and hair, and had a cut that flattered your figure. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt so simultaneously beautiful and comfortable before. You absolutely loved it, you just hoped Cater loved it too.

“You look beautiful,” Cater told you, quick on the mark as ever with a compliment as he hopped up from the couch he’d been waiting on, “But then again you always do.”

You huffed at that, but didn’t protest as he circled around you, holding still so he could view you from all angles.

“Do you like it?” he asked, once he reached your front again, uncharacteristically shy again.

“Cater are you kidding I love it!” you told him fiercely, not willing to let any sort of insecurity stand.

“Pretty sure you’d have to say that even if it was ugly babe,” Cater told you a little wryly.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings,” you conceded, unwilling to lie, especially when you knew how much Cater valued honesty, but also unwilling to back down, “But in this case I’m definitely not exaggerating! Have you seen me?!”

You twirled in front of him arms spread for emphasis, “I look amazing! I feel amazing which, as you’ve told me, is just as if not more important! If you don’t believe me we can march right over to Pomefiore and get Vil. I’m sure you’d believe him!”

“No need for that,” Cater told you with a huff of amusement, his eyes warm and full of affection as he gently tugged you to him, his warm hands clasping your elbows as he peered into your eyes, “You really do like it babe?”

“I really, really do,” you answered him, with all the sincerity you could muster, “So much so I might just have to wear it every day. I’m not sure my other clothes could ever compare.”

“No need to go that far,” he insisted, though the bright look in his eyes belied the words, “I can always make you more.”

“So long as it doesn’t put you out,” you replied, “I’d love to wear your clothes Cater, anywhere anytime.”

Your boyfriend gave you one of his rare soft smiles, tugging you into his arms and just holding you, clearly grateful for what you’d said. You hugged back, quietly scheming to yourself determined to help Cater realize how talented he was. He deserved it, but in the mean time you would simply savor how much he clearly loved and trusted you, letting you be his first real model. You really couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend than Cater Diamond and you were now even more determined to make sure he knew just how much you adored him in return.

Like this or my writing in general? Feel free to drop by my ask box to make requests! Just make sure to read the rules first! Want to support me or make a commission? Please see my Ko-fi!

[twistedtummies2]

Christopher Lee: A Sinister Centenary - Number 25

Welcome to Christopher Lee: A Sinister Centenary! Over the course of May, I will be counting down My Top 31 Favorite Performances by possibly my favorite actor, the late, great Sir Christopher Lee, in honor of his 100th Birthday. Although this fine actor left us a few years ago, his legacy endures, and this countdown is a tribute to said legacy! Today’s Subject, My 25th Favorite Christopher Lee Performance: Dr. Wilbur Wonka from Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Uploading this one slightly early, sorry about that. XD As I said on my Honorable Mentions, Christopher Lee collaborated several times with director/producer Tim Burton in his lifetime. This is another of those occasions, and it’s arguably the single most prominent of his performances in the wonderful world of Burton movies we ever got. People are…split, to say the least, about Tim Burton’s adaptation of Roald Dahl’s famous story, “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” This is largely because people mistakenly believe it to be a remake of the classic 70s film version starring Gene Wilder, entitled “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” and even for those who don’t, the comparisons to the old classic are inevitable. Back in 2005, when the film was first released, most people seemed very into it, and it certainly has its fans even today, but the loudest voices regarding the movie, at least nowadays, seem to be negative ones. Me, personally? Ehhh…if you had asked me back when I was a kid, and the film was still new, I’d say this film was superior to the original, but nowadays, it’s harder for me to say. In some ways I still think it is, but in other ways I feel the original film – not to mention Dahl’s book – is superior. Weirdly enough, Christopher Lee’s presence in the movie is a chief example of both elements: he is both one of the best parts of this film, and one of the…well…I hesitate to say “worst,” because there’s no way in Hades I’d EVER use that word in regards to Christopher-Bloody-Lee, but he shows one of the flaws of the film, all the same. The 2005 Tim Burton feature is noteworthy for, among other things, going more into depth about the backstory of the mysterious and eccentric Willy Wonka. In a series of flashback scenes, Lee plays Dr. Wilbur Wonka: a well-respected and successful dentist. Wilbur HATES candies, seeing them as harmful to children and “a waste of time.” He denies Willy any candy on Halloween, instead disposing of the sweets in a fire each year: he’s only trying to protect his son, who actually has EXTREMELY bad teeth in his youth that require freakishly large braces to maintain…but yeah, burning a kid’s Halloween candy miiiight leave a few mental scars. Eventually, Willy does get to taste candy, and begins to grow a secret fascination, eventually revealing to his father that he wants to be a candymaker when he grows up. Wilbur is appalled at the idea, and when Willy threatens to run away from home, he warns him, “I won’t be here when you get back.” Sure enough, when Willy inevitably returns home, he discovers his father – and his home – have disappeared. It’s because of his father’s vanishing act, above all else, that Willy basically goes a little bonkers in life as he grows older, and develops a deep-rooted dislike for authority, embracing his anarchic, creative side with an obsessive fervor. HOWEVER, this isn’t the last we see of Wilbur. SPOILER ALERT: after the events at the factory, the story doesn’t end. With help from Charlie, Willy actually manages to locate his father, and is able to reconnect with him. It’s revealed that Wilbur is still a practicing dentist, and despite his long absence…he never stopped loving his son. His wall is covered in postal clippings and photos of Willy, chronicling his many achievements, and the tearful reunion father and son share when they realize how much each truly does care for the other is genuinely touching and powerful. Lee plays the role perfectly, balancing Wilbur’s strict, at times seemingly cruel qualities with a tenderness and sympathy that makes it hard to hate him. Again, you can tell he truly does care about his son, he’s just not always sure what the right move is, and I personally like to think maybe it’s because he had a pretty rough upbringing himself. Whatever the case, as much as I love Lee’s appearance as the good doctor in the film, it also highlights one of my problems with the Tim Burton feature: I personally like Willy Wonka best when we DON’T know him very well. It’s the mystery of the character that I feel makes him so fascinating, above all else; the more we get to know the man, the more that mystery fades away. So by having Lee in the movie as such an integral part of putting the puzzle together, it sort of works against the film’s favor, at least in my opinion. That’s really the only reason I don’t think I can give this performance any higher spot than Number 25. Still, you can’t fault the actor or his work for that matter, and this is still an iconic role of Sir Christopher’s in my book. I’d be ashamed to leave it off the list. Tomorrow the countdown continues with My Number 24 choice!

[yoontaethings]

normal kind of love — jjk (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader 

rating: explicit

word count: 2.5k

warnings: a lot of cussing and some teasing if you squint, but other than that none really (the warnings will come next chapter lmao)

you’re one half of hollywood’s on-screen it couple. the greatest chemistry known on-screen with the one and only, jeon jungkook, the bane of your existence.

a/n: this was supposed to be a longer chapter but i decided to split it in half to tease potential readers mwahaha btw this chapter is very very unedited, though i did postpone the upload because i had to remove some parts because i just thought the story didn’t need those bits anymore lol but the rest of this story i haven’t even read through yet, i just wrote and wrote and wrote so please excuse any errors (my tenses might also not be consistent but i’ll edit this soon)

taglist: @min-nicoleee @thisartemisnevermisses @ggukkieland @kokoandkookie @somelazysundays

There was no way.

There was no way in hell they were pairing you up with him. Again.

You were confirmed to be cast as the female lead in the movie before any other characters were casted. They should have chosen a different male lead for this romance film. Heck, even Kim Taehyung, a friend of yours, received an offer for the role and you were certain he planned to take it. Unfortunately for you, even if Taehyung wanted the role, he couldn’t accept it because of scheduling conflict with another film he’s already working on.

Jeon Jungkook, an actor you starred alongside in “Dangerous Illusion”, was just confirmed as the male lead of your upcoming movie “Chosen for Pleasure”. The same man who seemed to make it his life goal to ruin you. After Jungkook was confirmed to play the male lead in your upcoming movie, fans on Twitter have been blowing up about it and made you two a trending topic worldwide. Elated fans mentioned you in their tweets expressing how happy they were to see you two again together. You wish you could say you felt the same.

The previous movie you worked on was a thriller/mystery. You played the part of Jungkook's wife in the film. The film was a blockbuster hit, as a result of the well-thought storyline, yet additionally because of its leads. Fans adored the chemistry between you and Jungkook, regardless of not having a lot of romantic scenes in the film. There were a lot of fans who wanted to see you two on-screen once more, this time, in a romance focused film. Looks like their wishes were coming true.

To add insult to injury, your impending film was going to be an adult romance. It required some steamy scenes that normally didn't trouble you because you were a true professional, yet absolutely irritates you now since you need to do them with Jeon Jungkook.

The script reading was to be done today and your eyes opened an hour later than the time you set for your alarm because of the fucking snooze button. Seriously, why were snooze buttons even invented? They just allowed people to sleep through their alarms continuously.

Hand reaching for the phone on your nightstand, you knocked over a booklet that was over it. It was the script you spent hours reading to grab a sense of the character you were going to portray. Obviously, you already knew the basics about the part you were going to play, but knowing the entire story helped in portraying your character.

Your eyes squinted at the bright light of your phone that had the numbers 8:33 glaring at you, unlocking it to see a couple of texts and missed calls from your manager.

‘Are you awake yet?’

‘Please don’t tell me you forgot about the script reading today’

‘Ok I know you’re still asleep but just make sure you get ready on time, being late won’t do you and your image any favors’

‘I’ll pick you up at 9’

You rolled your eyes at his messages. You loved Hoseok and he was the best manager you could have been given from your agency, but he nagged too much. He was also your friend and his endless nags made you want to rip your eyeballs out sometimes because even when you’re supposed to unwind with him, he never forgets to remind you of your job.

‘I’m the fucking lead, Hobi, they’ll wait for me’

You slapped your phone back onto the nightstand and started going about with your morning routine. You didn’t have a lot of time, and even though you knew they would definitely wait for you, you hated being that bitch who made people wait so you took a quick shower and slapped on some sunscreen, powder, and finishing off with your go-to lipstick. You didn’t bother with makeup and dressing up. This was just going to be a script reading and sure, there were going to be photos taken but the thousands of dollars you’ve spent on facials and treatments already made sure your face was at least flawless despite the lack of effort.

Bringing only your phone, wallet and script, you exited your building and as usual, a shiny black van already awaited outside. Hoseok was leaning on it, scrolling through his phone when he sensed your presence and looked up.

“Oh, thank god you’re on time.” He exhaled in relief, pocketing his phone.

“I value sleep but you’re well aware I also value my career.”

Hoseok grinned. “Now there’s the y/n I know.” He then slid the van door open and you entered without another word.

The drive was pretty much uneventful, with you scrolling through your social media, seeing what fans have been tweeting about recently and with Hoseok humming along to the random pop music playing.

You longed for a distraction, something much more interesting than working your thumb throughout the drive because of the chasm that you were about to jump into when you arrived on set. You weren’t stupid enough to forget about the man who got the role of your romantic interest in the film. But you were wise enough to not let it haunt you for the past weeks. Now though, you can’t really avoid it anymore since you were supposed to be seeing him in person again after almost 2 years. You didn’t exactly leave on the best terms with Jungkook but who knows, maybe you’ll be able to act civil around each other.

At least you were sure you were going to act civil around him, already decided on taking the higher path. You’re not so sure about him, but fingers crossed he’ll at least be an adult about the situation and pretend he can stand being in the same room as you.

Soon enough, you were entering the room the script reading was to be held in. Bowing and greeting the actors and staff seated around the table as you passed by to get to the last vacant seat. You caught Jungkook’s eyes following your movements as you sat down. Luckily, he was seated across from you and it was easier to ignore his presence with the staff members greeting and coddling you.

As always, script reading began with actors introducing themselves and the role they’re going to play. As the female lead, you started off.

“Hello everyone. I’m y/n y/l/n and I’m going to take on the role of Yuri.” Hands clapped around you as you sat back down.

“Hello, I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’ll be playing Ryan.”

You didn’t bother clapping unlike the rest and avoided the eyes of the voice’s origin.

The script reading continued without a hitch– for the most part. The other cast members were very friendly, and laughter was exchanged during the read. The same couldn’t be said for you and Jungkook though.

When lines between your characters were exchanged, there was a weird tension in the room. It felt like everyone else were holding their breaths and waiting for either of you two explode and announce that you can’t do this film anymore. As dramatic as that would be, none of that happened. Instead, cheesy romantic lines sounded flat and bored from both you and Jungkook. The director made a tsk-ing sound whenever that happened.

“It’s always been you.” You read. The script said that Yuri and Ryan stared in adoration towards each other before Ryan uttered his next words.

“Marry me?” Jungkook asked.

You nodded your head as a wrap for the script reading. According to the script, there was supposed to be a kissing scene at the end, so you make ridiculous smooching noises. The cast burst into giggles before the director stood from his seat.

“…and that’s a wrap!” He clasped his hands together. “Hopefully when we start shooting things only look up from there.” He flitted his eyes between you and Jungkook.

Honestly, you wish that too but from yours and Jungkook’s history, you don’t really think that’s possible.

You were both professionals though and you’re sure you could at least count on him to make the on-screen romance feel real.

“I’m sorry.” Hoseok said with pity in his eyes.

“Wha- but… why?” You asked, confused with what was happening.

Your part in the new film ‘The Notebook: Remake’ has apparently been withdrawn. As one of the rising stars in Hollywood, this was a really great opportunity for you. It’s one of the most anticipated films and accepting the offer of being the female lead in the movie was a no-brainer. Anyone who refuses that role is just stupid.

But now they were apparently taking it back.

Hoseok sighed. “There were too many scandals surrounding you recently. It doesn’t matter if they’re true or not, but you’ve been seen in hotels that Jeon Jungkook has been in too, and in everyone’s eyes you’re now secretly seeing him.”

“But we’ve never even been seen together in any of those photos. Don’t people know the word fucking coincidence?” Your brows furrowed, fists clenching at your sides. “And what does this have to do with my role in the film?”

“It seems they wanted someone with a ‘cleaner image’ and someone who’ll get the film to be a hit. Apparently, the romance won't be convincing if the female lead is dating someone in real life.”

You stared at Hoseok. He stared back waiting for a lash out, an angry outburst, anything really, but you remained silent, eyes unmoving. Soon enough, the dam doors burst open and the tears suddenly came streaming down your face. Hoseok exhaled and wrapped his arms around you.

“Hobi what did I do so wrong to deserve this?” you sobbed into his chest.

“Shh, it’s not your fault they’re all dumbasses. But you know the industry, y/n. We’ll find better films for you, okay?”

“Why is Jeon Jungkook such a thorn on my side? Why is he always ruining everything for me?”

“We can’t blame him, honey. He’s probably a victim in this too because of those damn rumor outlets.” Hoseok rubbed his hands along your back.

“But I’m getting the short end of the stick! The rumor is probably just feeding his bad boy persona!”

“Life’s unfair, y/n. Surely by now you’re aware of that. Just remember, karma’s going to bite them in the ass someday, okay? For now, do you want to call it a day and go home? I’ll drive you back and I’ll just report to the agency that you’re not feeling well.”

You nod your head, too listless to bother answering with words because there was only one thing on your mind right now.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his good looks. He just ruined the best opportunity for you. You were going to get him back for this. Like Hoseok said, karma’s going to bite him in the ass someday. And that karma was going to be you.

You were supposed to be looking forward to filming one of your dream movies with your dream director. But all you felt was dread when you arrived on set. You promised yourself that you’d stay unaffected to Jeon Jungkook, but you couldn’t help the distaste for him to be left on your face while filming.

The scene you were shooting was when your characters first met and the first takes were a total disaster. You and Jungkook barely spared each other a glance, even when your character was supposed to be enticed by him, breaking down Yuri’s cold exterior. A break was called after the 6th take because the director was so frustrated that he looked like he was about to call the casting director and replace his two leads.

You sighed, not knowing what to do with yourself after the announcement of a break. Your feet led you to your dressing room, ready to pass out on the couch but before you could, someone barged in. Your head turned towards the door, expecting it to be your manager or the director or anyone really, just not the person who currently stood at the doorway.

“Can we talk?” Jungkook asked. Your eyes were suddenly drawn to his biceps which bulged from his shirt as he crossed his arms. The damn arms looked delicious. Too bad they belonged to someone you would never ever be attracted to.

“Sure.” You shrugged your shoulders. You were sure he came here to talk to you about filming and how to work out your indifferences and shit like that and honestly, you were so tired of hating him you’re ready to just go along with whatever. Hating someone actually takes a lot of effort, you realize.

Jungkook stepped towards you until he’s close enough that you had to tilt your head upwards to look at his eyes. His eyes locked on yours for a moment before his arms uncrossed and one of his hands landed on the wall behind you. He successfully caged you in with no way out. His lips part and your eyes are drawn to the movement, feeling his exhales on your nose. You swallowed nervously.

Good lord his breath smelled so good.

“Babe, I’m sure you’re just as thrilled as I am to be working with you again as you are with me, but let’s not mess this up okay? Let’s get this over with perfectly and quickly so we don’t have to deal with each other again after. Deal?” His eyebrows raised in question and you nodded dumbly, unable to form a coherent sentence with how close he was to you.

You felt a sudden rush of heat down there and was mentally cursing the man in front of you for how much he was affecting you. He tilted his head to the side and leaned in closer to your face as if he was about to kiss you then he suddenly stopped, his mouth forming a smirk, taunting you.

That smirk was all it took for you to snap back to reality. No, you were not going to let him take the upper hand here. A burst of confidence surged through you as you leaned closer to him too and allowed your lips to brush lightly against his cheek.

“Deal.”

You pulled away, satisfied with how his lips drooped apparently not expecting that. You looked down and there it was, the tenting of his pants that brought a coy smile to your lips. Ha, take that.

You glanced back up at him, your fingers trailing over his thighs. “Aw, didn’t realize you saw me that way Jeon.” You abruptly pulled away and walked out of the room without another word, leaving him hard and defeated.

This is the beginning of his karma, you thought as you grinned to yourself.

[cat-eg]

NO WAY HOME SCATTERED THOUGHTS (spoilers obviously)

they handled it better than i thought they would. i went into it expecting a cluttered and predictable and rushed movie, and while it was still pretty predictable, it was executed better than i expected 

a couple of things that stood out to me:

- they betrayed their own logic with the spell thing. at the beginning of the movie it’s shown that the memory spell can change so that it doesnt affect certain people. why didnt they just do that with the last spell too. why did EVERYBODY need to forget. hell, why did it even need to be that everybody forgot peter, wouldn’t forgetting that peter is spiderman still work?

- couldnt ned have just made one more portal to find peter. after tobey and andrew arrived. if they were the only two other spidermen that came across then he only needed to make one more portal. why did they need to think about where he could have been. 

and just miscellaneous thoughts:

- im like 90% sure the outfit peter was wearing when he got pushed out of his body is a reference to the spectacular spiderman cartoon so that’s cool

- that credits sequence was SO COOL when thats uploaded to youtube im going to watch it again the drawings the animations so so so so cool very inspiring. makes me want to work on stuff like that too. 

- man they were really fuckin reaching with the home themed title werent they lmao!!!!! “no way home” wtf are u talking about yes there is its right there the whole movie theyre just not using it

- i LOVED the scene where peters spidey sense goes off in happys place. super well done and i loved how they portrayed the confusion. the audio going distant and the camera focusing on and only following peter was really good.

- another thing i liked, in the bridge scene you can see the little spiderverse spidey sense lines but clear, when doc ock first arrives. neat little detail

- i have a feeling the “everybody has forgotten peter” thing is going to get resolved in the first like half hour of the next spidey movie. maybe even 10 minutes. it really just felt like they wanted a dramatic ending in the moment. 

- some of the editing in the fight scenes was really bizarre, sometimes there would be these like, SPLIT second shots for no reason it was really jarring. 

- the VFX were okay for the most part but there were a couple of shots where it was just.... oof. the lady in the car looked really weird for some reason and when tobey stepped into the portal. what the hell man 

- matt murdock was a fun little cameo but i wish it was like... explained??? lmao. he just kinda appeared and disappeared. i love daredevil and im glad his character has been featured on film now but its obvious they included it without too much relevance to the plot. hell maybe it was even added after all the chatter online right after far from home released, i remember people exploded talking about how matt murdock should be peters lawyer. ngl i did pog to my brother when he showed up tho

- seems like certain characters were taken at different points in the timeline??? like doc ock is still like he was in the original but tobeys old now. what does that mean for when they go back to their original timelines 

- the web shooter banter was funny 

- they just. completely changed electros character lmfao. he’s a completely different guy now. okay. 

- i liked the banter when andrew first came through, that was fun

- holy fuck that one scene with the goblin is fucking brutal. jesus christ

- speaking of. i fucking KNEW there was gonna be some cheesy line about responsibility. i fuckin knew it i was talking to my brother about it and it HAPPENED. 

- found it kinda funny how they just kinda danced around the whole mcu peter not having an uncle ben thing. like yeah he existed but i guess in this universe he just died some other way or something. because peter still needs to have a “with great power comes great responsibility” on screen i guess. but he already knew that. but whatever. 

- i wish flash was in it more, i thought they’d show more of him 

- some of the scenes were.. weirdly paced? sometimes it felt like they went on forever. dont know if its bc i was having a cocktail but the pacing at times was weird to me

- some of the shots were cool i wanna take screenshots and draw them but its gonna be so long until clips are available online :( 

- so everybody forgets who peter is but what about all the clips online and newspapers and articles that would have already existed about how peter parker is spiderman? did the spell erase those too? did it just delete the end of mysterios video off the internet or some shit?

- the little referential lines like “im something of a scientist myself” and “my back” and stuff is just like................. okay. i get it. i get that those are going to be there in this kind of nostalgia bait movie. doesnt mean i didnt scoff when they happened. like cmon. it just interrupted the flow of the movie :|

- i am SO fucking glad i saw this in a relatively small theatre and it was silent the whole time. seeing shit online about how people APPLAUDED when tobey and andrew showed up is just like what. why is that a good thing that is so annoying. we get it youre excited. no need to scream and interrupt the movie why is that such a celebrated thing 

- so the next spidey movie is gonna be venom related huh! i hope they do it better than spiderman 3 did it lmfao. although the way they set it up doesnt even make sense he faded out of existence theres no way any amount of the symbiote could have been left behind

overall i think it was pretty good although it still needs to sit with me for a bit. its only been like a couple hours lol. not sure how much the logical inconsistency of the spell thing is gonna bother me but we’ll see