#neither of them know what year shakespeare started writing plays

[rhysintherain]

The 20th century vampires are pretending to be hundreds of years old again, and the actual 200-year-old vampire is mad about it:

She reached the bottom of the stairs and threw her arms around Avery. “Love, I missed you! You’ve barely paid me any attention since I’ve been in town!” she admonished. Avery returned the hug briefly, then stepped back. Molly kept her hands on Avery’s shoulders. “Nice to see you too, Moll.” “Is it? After you neglected me all this time?” Avery smiled. “Well you know, I’ve been busy.” “Too busy for me? After all we’ve been through? “Remember Paris, love? It was 1836, and the lights of the city shone over the Seine like stars!” “You were acting at Du Pantheon,” Avery replied. “You played Sanchette -” “Ahem, Constance,” Molly corrected, putting on her best offended expression. “Of course, Constance in La Princesse de Navarre," she corrected. "You wore that stunning crimson gown.” “I still miss that gown. You were working on the docks, scandalising everyone by wearing trousers.” “Somebody had to show the men what a decent day’s work looked like.” Footsteps on the balcony above the stairs marked Bastion’s arrival. Avery looked up to see him leaning on the railing and watching them. “Everyone raise your hand if you were born before 1950.” He raised his hand, then feigned surprise. “Oh right, it’s just me.” He descended the stairs unhurriedly, with none of Molly’s grace. “You two know Du Pantheon was a cinema, right? It was built after the invention of film. If you’re going to pretend to be old and sophisticated, at least do your research first.” “I would, but it might raise the nerd vibes around here to dangerous levels,” Avery countered. Molly pulled back, crossing the vestibule to drape an arm around Bastion’s shoulders. “I have no idea why you two always want to pretend you were around back then. It stank. Literally, it smelled awful. And good luck finding blood that didn’t taste like tuberculosis or syphilis in 1830s Paris.” “Spoilsport,” Molly pouted.

[carchariascarcharodon]

digging through the archives again & i've found another little press interview with robert shaw that i quite like. sticking it here for ease of access in the future :> from an article published in the los angeles times in february 1971, as transcribed below:

Most public people get terribly lofty about seeing their names in print (“Of course it used to matter . . .”). Robert Shaw, the English actor-author, is, bless his heart, honest enough to say it matters terribly. “My hand shakes when I pick up the Daily Express. And I will be comforted by reading someone else’s bad notices, I admit it. It gets worse all the time. Old Harold Pinter says my great vice is other people’s opinions.” Robert Shaw is subject to more reviews than most since he is both a writer (novels, plays, screenplays) and an actor English enough to play Henry VIII (in the film “A Man for All Seasons”), international enough to play Gen. Custer (in a movie) and Elmer Gantry (in a Broadway musical that lasted one night), and intelligent enough to play Pinter (“The Caretaker,” “The Birthday Party”). “I’ve been asked so often which I prefer, writing or acting, that I’ve started to answer seriously. I obviously prefer acting because the rewards are much more immediate. Writing is so lonely, such an agony. I’m an extroverted, confident person and I’m thrown into this pain . . .” Then why write? “I do wish for immortality—I don’t know why—but I do wish to be remembered.” Robert Shaw studied acting at RADA, a bleak and hateful experience, during which he was advised to give up. He spent his first eight years as a professional playing Shakespeare and had a rough time. “As a young man I had no charm, I was all agression [sic]. Richard Burton had enormous charm, he could get on with people. What an extraordinary life! When he went off to Hollywood, we all said, there goes the golden boy.” The turning point came with his first novel, “The Hiding Place” (1960). “From having been treated as a stupid actor—‘I find it hard to believe you wrote that,’ they’d say—I began to be treated as intelligent. Directors wanted me for television. And that’s where I became a working class actor. I’m not, I’m English middle class really, but I got into all these new plays. It was marvelous.” At present, Shaw has two plays coming up, neither of which will earn him a penny, he cheerfully notes: One is set in an American prison. The other, to be performed in London by the National Theater Company this spring, is called “Cato Street.” Shaw has based it on an actual attempt in the early 19th century to murder the entire British government. The plotters are betrayed and executed. “I hang them all on stage,” Shaw said with relish. “All eight or nine of them.” He hopes “Cato Street” will feature Laurence Olivier who, he feels, droops under some of his duties as head of the National Theater. “He asked me how many acts my play had. ‘Three,’ I said. “‘Couldn’t you make it two?’ he asked me. I said why? “‘Because,’ he said; ‘then I’d only have to have one drink with the governors.’”

[flowery-laser-blasts]

I like to imagine that every year, Duff Killigan, Monkey Fist and Drakken come together to compete with each other in a friendly competitive game (which involves non lethal weapons). The loser has to suffer through a penalty game a la Gaki no Tsukai's Batsu games.

Duff Killigan's penalty: Caddie. Killigan is forced to be the golfcaddie of Monkey Fist and Dr. Drakken. Both of them know how to play golf but purposefully make mistakes, make weird stances, use the wrong golfsticks and incorrect golfers lingo/terms. If Killigan starts swearing or loses his temper, they start all over again from the first hole.

Monkey Fist's penalty: Shakespeare. Monkey Fist has to teach at least one of his monkey ninjas to write a full page of Shakespearean literature. No mistakes. He has 48 hours to complete this task. If he fails to complete this punishment he gets a double punishment, meaning that Killigan and Drakken can use his mansion for a week. Neither Bates or the monkey ninjas can help with cleaning up the place.

Dr Drakken penalty: All-Dat and more. Drakken's punishment is to dress up as a member of team Possible spray paint his hair red and give himself freckles. Then he has to relive one of Kim and Ron's missions, but this time he has to stop the evil Dr. Drilligan and Dr. Dronkey Fist. Killigan and Monkey Fist raided his wardrobe and painted themselves blue and sharpie marked a unibrow on each other's faces. Drakken also has to fight Shego at the end of the punishment but she gives him a break/easy win because she laughs too hard at the idiocy of all of this (at first she had no interest but the duo paid her big time for this punishment). If he fails 'stopping the evil doctors from taking over the world' he has to go to Ron's house and give him a sincere, heartfelt apology for all the times he 'forgot' the boy's name. If Ron starts talking and blabbering around and maybe suggesting they should go hang out and rekindle over a platter of Mexican food, then Drakken has to oblige, no matter what.

The next competition game is decided by last year's loser and punishments changes each year.

[jechristine]

Is this true about Shakespeare https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8mfC797/

Hey thanks for this ask!

So much to say here.

Yes, we trace the first instances—that we’ve found—of many English words and phrases to Shakespeare’s plays and poems, meaning that it’s likely whoever compiled those editions was the person/were the people who first wrote those words and phrases down for the purpose of having them endure. Other people before Shakespeare may have spoken those words out loud or written them down on disposable paper, but all of those instances, if they had happened, are lost to history. In other words, the body of work that we’ve come to call Shakespeare’s is the earliest recording of many common words and phrases that we still use.

To this guy’s larger point: I’d agree and disagree with how he thinks about language. Language is social, right? It’s a tool we use to communicate with each other. You couldn’t start using wholly new words that no one else knows or can infer and expect to be understood. You also can’t individually use words that have an agreed upon meaning or connotation and say “I mean something different when I use this word or phrase” because the words/phrases arent exclusively yours. You use words that have a history and that usually exist in multiple contexts that you don’t get to control.

So language is made up by humans, of course, but we’ve also come to a consensus about grammar and words (or multiple consensuses because there are multiple languages). New words and new meanings for old words can be introduced gradually as other speakers and writers learn them, use them, and welcome them into the consensus. And plenty of words and phrases exist differently in different contexts. Dictionaries are changing and updating all the time.

Shakespeare was writing during the perfect era in England to “invent” words that would endure, 1580s-1610s. Before ~1480s, there were no printing presses in England. People in each city and town spoke their own version of “English” with different vocabularies and different spellings for stuff, etc. English was mostly an oral, middle and lower class language at this time since French was used by the upper classes for education, and Latin by the Church. Once the printing presses showed up, printers decided what they could sell. One of the most popular items were the literary works of Geoffrey Chaucer, who a hundred years earlier had decided that he would elevate the scrappy, lower class vernacular, the version that was spoken in London, by Frenchifying it. He basically added tons of French words and sounds to English (which was changing from its old, Anglo-Saxon Germanic) to make it sound more fancy. The printers around the 1480s decided to make tons and tons of copies of Chaucer’s works that they spread around the island, making Chaucer’s version of English the national standard, something that couldn’t have happened before the printing presses. (Chaucer is sometimes said to be “the father of the English language.)

By Shakespeare’s day, a common English language had begun to stabilize, but it wasn’t yet fixed like we know it today. That’s because neither vernacular dictionaries nor the idea of vernacular dictionaries existed yet. There was no book that said “I am the record of all English words.” So writers of all kinds had fun adding words and playing with words and putting them in new contexts, and adding words from other languages to English (mostly from Latin) etc. Shakespeare was was really good at it and the people of his era decided to preserve his body of work in print. Many copies were made, and that’s why we have his works today. There may have been other English writers who invented new words that have been lost to time—many women, likely.

It wasn’t until the first serious and highly regarded English dictionary in the 1750s that the language started to slow down its growth. That dictionary said, “these are all the words, here’s what they mean, I’m the authority.”

Today, a good English teacher will talk about “correct” English as the version of the language that is most suited to your purpose and audience. Standard Written English is the language that you learn in school because it’s what you’re expected to speak and write in in most white-collar, privileged jobs. There are a lot of political conversations that we could have—namely, who gets to decide what SWE is and who is and is not using it (the people in power). But when we learn SWE, we’re getting acquainted with the consensus of that version of English.

So yes, it’s all made up just as all of society and its rules are made up!

[solarwonux]

36. “I’m not naming our child after a book character, let alone from my least favorite book.” “Why not?”

37. “I think you’ve had enough to drink today.”

husband!joshua x f!reader

genre: fluff and a little bit of angst 

w.c: 2.1k

warnings: alcohol, drinking, hints at infertility, mentions of a surrogate, self doubt, hints at depression, mentions of therapy, brief mention of poly!gyuchan,  IVF treatment, suggestive, a cat named dog and a dog named cat, reader isn’t a fan of Shakespeare.

notes: this one’s a heavy one, but I wanted to challenge myself with this one. I did do some brief research as I was writing this one but I still could’ve gotten something wrong, so if I did let me. Either way, I’m grateful for those who read and please please please let me know your thoughts. Enjoy.xx

MASTERLIST || PROMPTS

Joshua threw his head back downing the shot of soju. His face twisted in displeasure, hissing at the bitter taste. He sets the glass down wiping his plump lips with the back of his hand before pointing a finger at you. 

“What about Elizabeth, like Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice?” Joshua asks, grabbing the green bottle of soju and pouring himself another shot. 

You cross your arms in front of your body and lean back against the dark navy booth. “Nope, try again.” 

Joshua let’s out a sound of annoyance before downing another shot. He doesn’t let the acrimonious taste settle in on his taste buds before he’s pouring himself another one and downing it. The two of you knew it was going to be a long night. Time was ticking, your surrogates due date was approaching and neither of you had picked out a name for your daughter. 

Truthfully, her name should’ve been chosen months ago. At least that’s what you and Joshua had planned during the first trimester of the pregnancy. But every time the topic came up, the two of you would end up frustrated and running back to the drawing board. You had names picked out, so did he. Neither one felt right. It also didn’t help that throughout the eight and a half months of the pregnancy a sense of guilt would wedge its way into your veins.

According to the many doctor’s you and Joshua consulted throughout the first year of your marriage. Your body wouldn’t be able to carry a child until full term. It had impacted you negatively. Your mental health was never up to par twenty four seven, but during that year - the year that was supposed to be filled with happy memories with your newly wedded husband; your mental health was at its worse. Memories that were supposed to be happy and colorful were black and white. You spent every waking moment dreaming about your child and feeling like a failure all at the same time. 

Joshua would hold you every time you cried out in agony. Each sob that came out of your lips would find its way and break his heart even further. He felt worthless not knowing what to do as he sat and watched the light get sucked out of you. He was hurting too, there wasn’t a doubt left in his head that he somehow shared your pain. But he couldn’t begin to imagine what it felt like to be told over and over again that your body will never be able to carry a child. So he held you and prayed for a miracle every night. He loved you more than anything in the world and although he found himself frustrated whenever you treated yourself like you were worthless or nothing. He made a promise to you in front of your family and his that through sickness and in health he will be by your side no matter what. 

The miracle came after four years. On New Year’s Eve of that first miserable year of marriage you told him you wanted to go to therapy, but only if he went too. He gladly agreed, eyes blown up in uncertainty but he didn’t fight you on your decision. Immediately he started researching for the best therapists in town, forgetting about the holiday party at Jun’s house. 

Slowly he saw you come back to yourself. The first time you smiled at him and laughed he cried tears of joy along with you. After almost two years of individual therapy with the newly added weekly couple therapy session, the two of you decided to research alternatives. Joshua was apprehensive, he feared he would lose you again, reassuring you that the two of you didn’t have to have kids in order to be a complete family. 

That just the two of you, your cat Inu and your dog Neko was enough. In which you agreed but one of your dreams was to bring a child into the world, to be a mother and you refused to have that taken away from you. So, he agreed after many weeks of convincing and a glittery powerpoint presentation. 

Mingyu, Chan and their wife didn’t want kids, frankly it wasn’t for them. But she didn’t hesitate to offer herself as a surrogate when she learned that you and Joshua were looking for one. It took another glittery powerpoint presentation from all three of them, this time to convince you to let them help you. So you did. Eight and a half months ago through an IVF treatment, one of your eggs and Joshua’s sperm were inside of her, healthily growing your child. Each doctor’s appointment you went to, the excitement inside of you grew. 

You stayed up with Joshua talking about how grateful you were that your baby girl was so loved and she hadn’t even taken her first breath yet. Mingyu and Chan showered her with gifts endlessly. A competition between the two of them to determine who would end up being her godfather. Not to mention her other ten uncle’s competing to see who would win the title of best uncle in the whole wide world. A contest that was to be held annually. Or so they claimed.

You were happy and so was Joshua but the only problem the two of you faced was that you didn’t have a name yet. And it stressed out Joshua to the point of no return, especially after you told him that it would be better to just wait until she was physically in the world. That her name would come to you, appearing out of thin air the moment you saw her for the first time. 

Joshua on the other hand disagreed. He lived paranoid ninety nine percent of the time and liked to be ready just in case something went wrong. He also didn’t want his daughter to be nameless and bean sprout wasn’t cutting it anymore. “Okay how about Ophelia, like from Hamlet.” He says with a hopeful dewey look in his eyes. 

You grab the bottle of soju and pour yourself a shot, downing it before slamming it down on top of the dark wooden table. “Absolutely not, I refuse. I’m not naming our child after a book character, let alone my least favorite book.”

Joshua ran a stressed hand across his face. He wanted this nightmare to end. No both of you wanted this nightmare to end. “It’s not a book, it's a play baby, you out of all people should know that.” He accused, grabbing an unopened bottle of soju and cracking the seal. “Mrs. Literature major.”

“Does it come with a front cover and a back cover and a bunch of pages in between?” You challenge cocking your head to the side, pushing your shot glass towards him. 

Joshua poured you a glass before setting the bottle down and placing his chin in the palm of his hands. A cocky drunk grin evident on his face. “Yes, but it started out as a performance not a book.” He mocks.

“I disagree. Shakespeare had to have written it down first in order to then show the actors. Therefore it’s still considered a book and my statement still stands. I’m not naming our child Ophelia.” You roll your eyes bringing the glass up to your lips, taking a small sip from it. You were finally starting to feel the weight of the alcohol. It was a given the two of you were five soju bottles (almost six) in and still hadn’t made any progress. 

“Why not?” He whines kicking his feet in the process, resembling a little kid who just got told that he couldn’t have cookies ‘n’ creme ice cream for dinner. “I like Ophelia, I think it’s cute.” 

“Because Ophelia drowns in the play, what if by naming our daughter that, we are instilling her an unfortunate faith?” You explain, drawing it out dramatically with your hands. 

“That’s ridiculous. Our daughter is protected not only by her guardian angels but also she has a whole football team on standby ready to beat the shit out of anyone that makes her cry.” Joshua states in a matter of fact tone while closing the half finished bottle of soju. He was finally starting to feel the effects and the two of you still needed to pay the bill and somehow make it home. 

You huff dipping your index finger into the half full shot glass and wetting the rim. “I read about it once.” You whisper. 

“Where?” He stands up holding onto the table and makes his way to your side, sitting down. “On those mommy blogs? The one’s I told you to stop reading because they don’t make you feel good about anything?”  His arm makes it away across your shoulders and pulls you close. 

You nod, leaning your head against his chest. “I’m just scared and I want everything to be perfect. I know that there’s nothing wrong with the decision we made but sometimes I still feel guilty that I wasn’t the one to carry her.” You sigh, lacing your fingers with his. “What if she doesn’t love me?” You cringe at how small your voice sounds. This is something your therapist and you had been working on for the past three weeks. Ever since you realized that the due date was approaching quickly. You’d gotten far but the doubt still lingered no matter how much you tried to push it away. 

Joshua leaves a gentle kiss against the crown of your head. “You’re her mom through and through and she’ll love you no matter what. Your body couldn’t grow her, the risk was too high and I didn’t want anything to happen to you or to her. But that doesn’t mean you were not enough. You have always been enough and you will be the best mom she could ever ask for.” 

Years ago when you had first met Joshua you knew you didn’t deserve him. He was everything you could ever ask for and more. Every time you found yourself drowning he was there with his hand plunged into the water ready to raise you up. He was your pillar whenever you needed someone or something to lean on. He was your voice of reason and your biggest supporter. And it wasn’t fair, because you would never be able to be that person to him. 

“I love you Joshua, thank you for never giving up on me.” You sit up, closing the small gap between the two of you and leaving a soft, delicate, alcohol filled kiss against his perfect lips. 

“I would never in a million think of doing that. Baby I swear I would cut off each of my limbs and feed them to birds if that thought were to ever cross my mind.” He smiles, pecking your lips repeatedly making you giggle. The sound made his heart soar. “I know you won’t believe me but you taught me what it’s like to love someone endlessly and unconditionally and that’s something I will spend my life thanking you for.” He says, thumbs caressing your cheeks before he hugs you close. 

“Stop making it impossible not to love you.” You laugh, circling your arms around his waist, burying your head into his chest. “I like Ophelia too, I’ll put it on the ‘maybe’ list.” His arms get tighter around, making it almost impossible for you to breathe. He wasn’t voicing his happiness, but you could only imagine the dumb smile he had on his face. 

After all, it was rare for you to admit defeat.

The two of you stayed there for a few more seconds before he brought his face down, stopping just above your ear. “Want to go to the bathroom and fuck,  live out our young adults fantasies once more before we become parents?” 

You pull away an incredulous look decorating your face. “Yup, I think you’ve had enough to drink. Let’s go home.” You stand up, grabbing your purse, pulling on his arm earning a wine from your husband. 

“Come on just once, please baby please.” He pleads and stands up, following you as you make your way to the front of the bar where the cash register usually was. 

“Absolutely not, I don’t want to be arrested for Adultery. We are about to become parents Joshua Hong!” 

He shrugs, circling his arm around your waist watching silently as you wait to pay. “It was worth a shot, what about when we get home?” He whispers into your ear leaving a teasing kiss against your chin. 

“We’ll see. Now behave.” 

“As you wish my lovely wife.”

[what-the-witch-stuff]

Landings Through the Grapevine

Chapter 2: Unfulfilled Expectations

Masterpost: here Go to:  Ch.1   |   Ch.2  |

_________________________

"I have news for you. One good, one bad" Shane said hours after the dance, when everyone was busy cleaning the place up. "Wait! Help me with that table first...Allright. Shoot". Shane grabbed the other side of the table and together they heaved it off the ground to carry it back to Marnie's farm. The path that led to the narrow bridge which divided the forest clearing from the rest of the village, was not large enough for them to carry the table side by side. So Shane volunteered to walk backwards while Riley gave directions. For a few moments Shane didn't say anything but occasionally looked at something over her shoulder. Then he lowered his voice:

"Ok, so...Mr. Darcy" – that was code for Elliott – "has been mingling with my aunt for almost the entire festival and now they both keep looking over at you".

"What?"

"Don't look! I didn't want to say it earlier, because I wasn't sure. But given how Marnie has been really chatty today, I bet she's playing matchmaker again"

"Oh for fuck's sake! What about Elliott?"

"Don't know, maybe he finally figured out that you don't understand his poems, or something"

"Shane!"

„I'm kidding. Don't act so horrified. Also, it's true!"

„No! It's not."

„Okay. Remember the poem he 'gifted' you at the Feast of the Winter Star? What was that about?"

Riley was preparing to answer him in a know-it-all manner but soon realised that she had actually no idea what to say. She hoped her death glare would shut him up for good. Alas, it didn't.

„You can give me the evil eye all you want. I already cringed to death when he started performing it in front of the goddam tree."

„Maybe a few metaphors and references go over my head sometimes, but that's because I never read much poetry before.

„Or maybe his writing is as inflated as his ego"

„Stop! For Yoba's sake, just tell me what's up with him!

„How should I know?"

„Then why tell me?"

"I thought you would want to know these things"

"Well, what does he look like? Does he look upset or anything?"

"Ehm",– at that Shane peeked back over her shoulder, looking rather pained as he tried to awaken his interpersonal skills: "Well he looks like a schmock, so nothing new there. Maybe that's just his –oh shit!"

"What?!"

"He's coming"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Stop! Jesus, Riley have you never been to highschool? You don't look at people you're talking shit about."

"Ok! ok, act natural !"

"You're the only one acting like a headless chicken", he hissed under his breath.

"Well, maybe I would be calmer if you –"

Shane dropped his side of the table. It came to the ground with a soft thud and Riley almost lost her footing from the sudden yank it caused on her side, forcing them to an immediate stop shortly before the bridge. This interrupted Riley's tirade and in hindsight saved her some embarrassment, as Elliott appeared by her side soon after, brushing a strain of hair behind his ear : "Good day, you two. I am so very sorry I didn't get to chat with you sooner. Can I help you with that?", he asked, having seen them struggle but obviously mistaking the situation at hand. Before Riley could even say anything, Shane intervened again : "Glad that you ask!" he said in an overly friendly manner while stretching theatrically and making a face: "My back is killing me! If you don't mind, I'd rather go see if I can help with something else" and with the blink of an eye, Shane and Elliott had switched places.

"You're welcome!", Shane murmured while brushing past her and he was gone. Meanwhile Elliott was getting into position and testing the table's weight while Riley could do nothing but watch him dumbfounded. When he noticed her staring, Elliot winked: "Shall we then?"

"YES! I mean, sure. Thanks for the help", If Riley's face looked as flushed as it felt right then and there, Elliott was gentleman enough to pretend not to notice. "Please, don't thank me! I should have been more involved with the preparations to begin with. I was just so caught up with my newest draft, that I had forgotten all about the dance until a few days ago. Oh, also, I hope I wasn't interrupting anything between you and Shane?", he added, leaning slightly towards her in mock-conspiracy.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it did look like you've been arguing, before I came over. I hope it was nothing serious"

"Ehm... I was just worried. His, eh... his 'back pain' is quite bad, but he didn't want to bother Harvey during a holiday", Riley lied between her teeth, as they made their way over the narrow bridge.

"Poor fellow, no wonder he seemed rather miffed today. But he danced like a champ!", Elliott stated sympathetically.

"Yes, he knows how much it means to Emily and didn't want to let her down"

"See, I was wondering about that a little. I did expect the two of you to be dancing today"

At that, Riley tripped over nothing, looking at Elliott with such astonishment that she almost forgot to warn him about the slight slope the path would be taking, shortly after the bridge.

"Sorry, who?"

"Well, you and Shane….?"

"Huh?"

Elliott then must have come to some sort of realisation, for it was now his turn to look flushed and embarrassed.

"Oh, Let the greater part of the news thou hearest be the least part of what thou believest." he exclaimed ruefully and smiled at her apologetically: " I should have known better than to make assumptions. I am sorry, Riley. It was something I overheard, please pay no mind to it!"

Riley suppressed the urge to ask him if he had been quoting Shakespeare again, as in 5 times out of 7 she had already been wrong. And by now, she had the nagging suspicion that Elliott chose anything but Shakespeare, just to mess with her. Instead, she stammered: "N-No, it's fine! Shane and I are close, but we are just friends...'', and almost Riley would have given into the temptation of adding something like: '...just as you and Leah, if I am not mistaken?'. But she discarded that idea as soon as it came to her. Too obvious. Though Riley was dying to get her hands on any piece of information about what kind of relationship he and the artist were cultivating, she had to be careful. The last thing she needed was the awkwardness of unrequited feelings or the loss of a friendship because of it. However, remembering Shane's assumption regarding Marnie, she continued : "...Though I do believe Marnie wouldn't mind me as her niece-in-law. But neither Shane or I see that ever happening,". She then laughed. But, following her gut instinct, she kept an eye out for Elliott's reaction, who, still dealing with his own embarrassment, couldn't help but wince slightly.

Bingo.

Shane's words were practically echoing in the back of her mind: I bet she's playing matchmaker again.

– ‘Yes she is and you won't like to find out with whom exactly', Riley thought grimly.

To say this was news to her would be a lie, sadly. Last year it had been just a few questions, if Riley was seeing someone, or if she fancied someone from the village already. Before long, Marnie had gotten more obvious about her actual motivation: "Have you met my nephew, yet? Shane. He is from Zuzu-City too. Oh, I need to introduce you to each other, next time you visit."

But said introduction flopped big-time. It had been difficult. Well, Shane had been. But Riley now knew that this wasn't anything personal. She had involuntarily witnessed his downward spiral until the fateful day at the cliffs, where Shane had finally hit rock bottom. Since then he was getting the help he needed and they could manage having a conversation that wasn't ending in a disaster. Nevertheless, as she and Shane clearly never hit it off, Riley thought that Marnie had moved on and was satisfied with talking her up to some other bachelor instead. Apparently, she had been wrong. "Please, do not believe that I usually engage in petty gossip." Elliott exclaimed and Riley knew, if his hands were free, he would probably underline his words with some dramatic gesture: " This is not why I wanted to talk to you. I would never bother you with such shallow conversation!". They finally reached Marnie's farmhouse and were greeted by Gunther and Clint, who were busy sorting Marnie's belongings back to where they belonged. Soon Elliott and Riley were relieved of their task and hurriedly shooed away. "Riley, you did enough! You've been here all day and surely your farm does not run itself", Gunther called over his shoulder as he and Clint disappeared into the house, leaving Elliott and Riley to themselves. „Well, I don't want to keep you from your duties..." Elliott eventually said rather deflated, after some seconds of them just standing there.

„It's fine! Really. I have time to chat."

„Are you sure? I would hate to inconvenience you", though Riley could easily tell that Elliott was just saying that to stay polite.

„You aren't, believe me. What did you want to talk about originally?"

Elliott immediately straightened his posture, his demeanour getting more relaxed as Riley's question offered him the chance to return their conversation back towards familiar territory.

He suspensefully cleared his throat.

"I wanted to thank you, for you have played a significant role regarding my latest draft. Well, draft is a bit much. It's more of an outline, actually."

"Really?!", Riley could not believe her ears. This was like the beginning of some obscure fever dream, where Elliott would finally announce her as his muse and declare his undying love for her…. Totally hypothetically of course, because Riley would never fantasize about such a corny situation! Ever.

"Yes! For as much as I frequent the library, I just recently noticed the marvellous collection of exhibits you have been providing to the museum. I would've never thought for our tiny valley to be such a place of wonder and history! I must be honest, my latest works were getting nowhere and I dreaded starting a new manuscript. I had gotten quite far with my latest piece. But all these treasures have ignited a new spark within me. Now I can hardly put my pen to rest. But I need more inspiration!". Elliott got more excited the more he talked. It was no longer just polite enthusiasm but an almost childlike delight that made his eyes sparkle in a way she rarely got to see on him.

"Oh that's wonderful! But how can I help you with that?" Riley was getting somewhat confused. If Elliott needed more information on the artifacts, he would be better off talking to Guntehr instead. And following that line of thought, Riley couldn't really fathom what Elliott needed of her, to fuel his newfound inspiration.

"It's about this Adventurer's Guild..."

The answer was: absolutely nothing.

"Oh", Riley tried not to sound or even look unhappy about this revelation and Elliott seemed too fixated on his own issues to notice anything, for he continued talking: "I have seen you standing next to that older gentleman, today. What was his name again?"

"Marlon?"

"Yes! He is the guild's leader, I suppose ?"

"Eh, yes, you could call him that."

"I would like to ask him a few questions. I would love to hear some of his adventures. He looks like a man who has many stories to tell. However, I struggle to get a hold of him!

Surely, I tried asking around. But before today, I didn't even know whose company he keeps. I have never seen him in town either, other than during holidays, which is why I had hoped to talk to him today. But shortly after the dance I lost sight of him and he was gone! I could tear my hair out, Riley! That man is like a ghost. How am I supposed to write about fantastic tales of danger, when I have no authentic experience to write from?!" Elliott had talked himself into such a frenzy, that he ended up being short of breath. While he needed a moment to collect himself, Riley used this pause to talk some sense into him.

"Well, you will be happy to hear that the guild building is actually very easy to find. It's right next to the entrance to the mines.", she informed him, trying to push away the feeling of disappointment. "Office hours are between 2 pm to 10 pm. Normally, entrance is only allowed for adventurers only, but technically you would be considered a potential client. And If you really cannot get in, then Clint, Willy and I see Marlon often enough that we can relay a message to him." "Is that so? Thank you so much, I knew I could count on you! I will seek him out first thing tomorrow!". With that he made his goodbyes and hurried back towards the meadow, presumably to find Leah and share his progress with her. She looked after him until his silhouette disappeared from her sight and with a groan Riley decided that it was indeed time to head back to her farm. The gleeful excitement she had felt at the prospect of being alone with Elliott, had vanished to sober disillusion. She wasn't even in the mood to get worked up over the whole Marnie-situation. Therefore, she decided to no longer think about whatever had transpired today. That would be future-her's issue to deal with. When Riley entered the premises to her own farm, the sight of the seemingly endless plot of land filled her with awe, like it did everytime. Proudly, she watched her cows, chicken and ducks peacefully napping in the sun and listened to the faint rustling of leaves above her head, as she finally made her way towards home.

[megthemewlingquim]

This Is Your Wilderness

Summary: You learn new things about the world you have entered, both the easy way and the harder way.

Pairing: Adam x Reader

Warnings: foul language (it’s a given for Adam), violence, angst

A/N: This is for @just-the-hiddles 's 3500 Follower Writing Challenge! The prompt was Bliss: A shot of pure, self-indulgent euphoria! A scent that is very, very wicked in its own way: the serotonin-slathered scent of pure milk chocolate. This turned out to be much more angsty than I expected, and you can thank @empower-bi-women​ for that little nudge. This is also an AU where Ian never died.

“Adam, don’t be so paranoid. No one has come around for ages.”

The tall, dark figure at the window sighs. His fingers had only moved the curtain for a second, and he had peeked out and looked down, but now he shifts, lets the curtain fall again. His eyes glint in the dim lighting, and they seem black. “Yeah, but I’m still worried,” he mumbles.

“I could try and get them to stay away,” you say lightly, a suggestion you know will fail tremendously. “Say it’s all fake, what with you and your reclusiveness.” You fiddle with a chess piece, a white rook, in your right hand, glancing back up at Adam. “It’s no trouble.”

“You’re the only zombie I trust now, you know that.” Adam moves back over to where you sit cross-legged on the floor. “You’re all I have. I’ll be damned if I let you go out there alone.”

He sits back down across from you, eyeing his own black chess pieces. Currently, he is down two pawns. “Besides, if the Others find out about you, they’ll… fuck, they’ll kill you. They’d kill you and leave me alone. Because they’d want me to suffer.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches. Adam never speaks about the “Others” — at least, never more than a mention of the name.

“Why?” you ask. “Why would they want that?”

“Because I don’t care about their fucking wars. The zombies cause enough trouble as it is. When the vampires and werewolves started their clans, I was not there to join them. I was... I was actually trying to settle down with someone.”

“That’s why you’re in hiding? Because you love?”

“I love, yes. I love and I care and I don’t just survive. This isn’t the goddamn 14th century anymore. I don’t just drink someone and throw their body in a ditch. I get my blood from hospitals. That is if it isn’t fucking... contaminated.” Adam winces. “That’s how Marlowe died.”

“Wait, who’s Marlowe?” you ask. “Was he a friend of yours? Another vampire like yourself?”

He smiles, an amused hum leaving him. “Yeah, he was a friend. Eve knew him longer than I did but we were friends. He was a visionary, an absolute genius. He wrote most of Shakespeare’s plays, y’know.”

You have to take a second to process this, and another to make the timeline match up. “You don’t mean the Christopher Marlowe?”

“He was one of Shakespeare’s biggest influences... and one of Shakespeare's real writers.” Adam smiles. “He really died a couple of years ago. Blood poisoning from a French hospital.”

“Is that why you only use me for your blood?” you ask softly. He nods. You look down, realizing the severity of it all. “So no drugs, huh?” you ask jokingly.

He laughs, a small amused chuckle. “Yeah, no. Drugs... if you’re still helping me out, are off limits. The occasional coffee is okay.”

“‘S okay with me.” You shrug. “As long as you stay safe.”

“And I can say the same to you,” Adam says, coming back over to sit beside you. He brings you close, resting his chin on your head and cuddling you from behind. “All I’d ever want is for you to be safe. Which is why I can’t have you talking to the Others... or anyone who might know them. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I do.”

After a long pause, you perk up.

“We should go to the store.” You glance at the electric clock, which reads 1:43 AM. “I’m sure some convenience stores are open. Do you need anything?”

“You ask me that every time we go,” Adam mumbles amiably. “I don’t need anything, no, but I’ll go with you if you want.”

And so you go.

All you get at the end of the trip is a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, and some milk chocolate bars (an essential in your opinion). 

“I’ll go for my actual shopping tomorrow,” you say, getting the gallon out of the freezer. 

The air is cold all through the tiny store, and the surprisingly satisfying scent of beer cooler is all around you. Adam wears his sunglasses and gloves, and looks around the shelves. He has nothing in his hands.

He glances at you. “Okay,” he says hesitantly, standing quite rigidly.

When you step up to the counter, the cashier looks suspiciously at Adam, who stands behind you, looking at a beer bottle: it has a tiny little Dracula on it. He is reading the flavor: blood orange.

It seems like the cashier had not heard the two of you talking, but had only seen you look at each other.

“Is this man here, uh, bothering you, miss?” he whispers.

You do not see it, but Adam’s head lifts, just a little.

“N-no,” you say, trying to make your voice as firm as possible. “No, I’m with him, actually.”

The cashier nods. “Uh huh,” he had said, not sounding convinced at all.

Adam comes up to accompany you at the register. Even through his glasses, you can see that his gaze is piercing. “She’s with me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’d like to leave.”

Maybe it’s something about Adam’s gaze or his dark tone: the cashier looks slightly worried, but he does what he was told. In a few seconds, you are out, Adam following closely behind you.

“Don’t want anyone coming close to my girl,” he mutters, his breath steaming in the crisp air. “Even if he means well. We’re out in the open now. And I can’t take any chances.”

Without saying anything in response, you both make it into Adam’s car, your little plastic bag sitting peacefully near your legs. Adam turns the key and the car rumbles to a start, and he is just about to shift into drive when he looks up.

He freezes, nostrils flaring in anger. His grip on the shift tightens, and your eyes go from his gloved hand to the dashboard, to see what he sees.

As if on cue...

There are three middle aged men in front of the car, almost completely shrouded by the darkness. The sides of their faces are lit up from the left by the white light of the store’s inside.

Their eyes seem black, and their faces are deathly pale.

“Stay in the car,” Adam hisses, his voice dark and angry.

“Adam—” you try to protest.

“Stay. In. The fucking. Car.” Adam’s teeth are gritted, and his voice gets even angrier, if that’s possible, but he never takes his eyes off of the three men in front of you.

“Wh-what are they going to do? Wh-wh-who are they?” you ask, stammering.

“Lock the doors,” is all he says.

He takes the key out of the ignition. The car stops its rumbling. He opens his driver door and steps out, placing the key in his back jean pocket. He shuts the door behind him.

“Adam!” you whisper, knowing he can still hear you. “Adam, get back here! We can just drive away.”

You see him mouth something: No.

You lock the doors.

Your ears are unable to pick up what they all say: but I will fill in the details.

One of the men steps forward, his white teeth showing in a sickly sweet smile. “Adam,” he says, welcoming in tone. “It’s been a while. When was it we last saw each other, hmm? 1805?”

“Walter… Henry… Jesse,” Adam says quietly, nodding at each of the men. “It has been a while, yes.”

The first man — Walter — glances toward you, and winks. “We've come to talk to you about enlisting. But... this is much more interesting. What’cha got there, huh? A little mouse?”

The name is not positive, nor is it cute. With Adam, it would be. But, right now…

You’re already petrified. From a wink, and a bittersweet smile. 

Your heart pounds.

You know, then, that they can hear it. All of them. They can hear your heart racing, the blood rushing through it. They can probably see you shaking, hear the breath leaving your mouth in trembling whispers.

Adam. Adam, run.

“She’s no one,” Adam says darkly. “She...found out about me. I have to kill her. She can’t know about me. About us.”

“How did she find out?” asks another man. Quite tall, nice looking, with light brown hair and stubble at the jaw and cheeks. A gold chain is around his neck, and he wears a brown jacket and white t-shirt. He is also pale, extremely pale, just like his friends, and his eyes seem black.

“There was a friend of mine who broke the confidentiality agreement. That friend is dead now. I killed him, too. But she also has to go.”

“Did she tell anyone?”

“No, Jesse, she didn’t.”

“Good,” the third man — Henry — says. He looks nice, too. Black hair, olive skin. He looks a little older than Jesse or Walter, though. “We can’t let that happen, now, can we?”

“Hey…” Walter says, getting an idea. His smile is not a good one. “Why don’t we help you out? She’s gonna die anyway, isn’t she?”

Adam, by all means, should say yes. It would give him some more time to banter, to discuss horrible ways of torture and death. It would help to keep your cover. He should shrug, say yes, and let you out of the car. Then, he should rip the other three vampires to shreds.

But he doesn’t.

Adam growls — and though you are not able to hear it, you can see his expression. It is hunger, it is defiance, and it is anger. “You are not to touch her. She’s mine: mine to kill, mine to torture — ”

“Yours to marry, yours to love?” Walter asks, mockingly. “Yours to fuck?”

Adam freezes.

“Nobody we know — you least of all — would ever get that protective of a fuckin’ zombie. What are you not telling us, Adam?”

“Get the fuck away from us,” Adam snarls, suddenly furious. “I don’t want any part in your little wars — and neither does she.”

“So you’re admitting it,” Jesse says, almost excitedly. “You love her, don’t you? That's what this is about?”

“That, and the fact that that he hasn't joined a clan in his entire existence,” Walter murmurs over to Jesse. “We discussed that already.”

“I told you once, I’ve told you a million times: I don’t want to be involved with you,” Adam groans.

“You know it’s frowned upon. Both things,” Jesse says.

“A vampire hasn’t mated with a zombie in centuries. And you remember how that went, don’t you?” Walter takes a singular step forward.

Adam’s eyes narrow. “Don’t,” he growls, his voice practically dropping a whole octave with anger.

“It’s only for the good of our survival, Adam. You mustn’t blame us,” Henry says, a mad glint in his eye.

The next five seconds happen with lightning speed. You only recognize the sound and feel of broken glass when it hits you, and a bloodied hand unlocks the door. You blink, it seems, and you’re suddenly pulled roughly out of the car and onto the cold pavement below. Then, you’re hoisted up into someone’s grasp, and into standing position. They still hold you tightly and roughly, and their grip is harsh. A cold hand is slapped onto your mouth.

You scream through it, though, your voice muffled and frantic.

In an instant, Adam’s alert, animalistic, beastly. He growls again, and spits out, “You will not harm her!”

“Adam, what are they doing?” you pant frantically through the hand covering your mouth, knowing that he can hear it loud and clear.

“We’re gonna fuckin’ skin you alive,” the one holding you whispers, gripping you even tighter when you flail and whimper in fear.

“No, you won’t,” Adam murmurs. “Let her go.”

“How do you think this’ll go, Adam?” Henry asks. “You think you’re gonna come out on top? You think you’re gonna stay away from our destiny? You need to help us, Adam. You need to be a good soldier and join us in the wars.”

“I’ll die first!” spits Adam.

“No. You won’t. But she will... whether you say yes or no. Because you’ve gone against our code anyway. Being with... and mating with... a mortal. Now, Adam, you’re better than this.” Henry’s tone becomes condescending. 

Adam’s eyes glint with offense and anger. “If you say one more word, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Not if we kill her first.”

You hear something, then. The breathy sigh of someone holding you... it sounds like a grin. A hungry grin.

You’ve heard that noise before. It happens whenever Adam drinks blood... yours included.

Your stomach drops to your feet.

A childish, delusional part of you wants to say something. Hey, ya want some chocolate? We got some in the car, it smells really good! Really sweet! Sweeter than blood!

You go mad, flailing and screaming, trying desperately to escape, but the one holding you keeps you in his grasp.

“It’s dinnertime,” Henry says, and his voice is a growl.

The next ten seconds happen in a blur. You hear several whooshing noises, feel light brushes of wind all around you, and see blurs of black, white, and gray all around you. You also hear growling — feral, ferocious, angry growls.

You land on the pavement, scraping your knees. Not enough to draw blood, but they sting all the same. In a frantic rush, you scramble as far away from the fight as possible. And that is what it is — a fight. A fight between four —

Three vampires. One of them has dropped to the ground in a heap. You fight the urge to vomit when you notice his head is at an extremely abnormal angle. It is not Adam, however.

Adam was the one, you realize, that has broken the vampire you don’t know to be Jesse’s neck. Adam is lunging, swiping, roaring at the other vampires, who are doing the same. They dodge each other’s grasping hands and punches. You can see flashes of white in the middle of this: fangs.

“Go!” Adam screams, and the breath leaves your lungs. You’ve never heard Adam shout. His voice has never risen above an indoor voice or a menacing mutter.

“Not without you!” you cry desperately. “Adam, they’ll kill you!”

“RUN!” 

This time, you know there’s no argument to be had. You run as fast as you can away from the scene, tears stinging your eyes and your legs burning with the effort.

Eventually, you have to stop your running and settle for walking on the cracked sidewalks. Something howls as the night grows deeper and darker. Fortunately, you know the way home, and you also know that whatever is out there, howling at the moon, will not hurt you. Adam made sure of that one.

You’re a lone figure, shrouded in darkness, walking back to safety with cold arms and stinging knees. Occasionally, you glance behind your shoulder, but you don’t see anything.

After a long while, you start to hear the rumble of a car’s engine driving up behind you. You look behind you and see that this car is driving quite close to the sidewalk. Moving further to your right, you avoid it — that is, until it slows to your walking pace and stays beside you. Keeping your head down, you try to walk a little faster. The car, you notice, looks a bit like Adam’s, but it is not. Your heart pounds, and you almost start to run when a car window is rolled down, and —

“Hey — what’re you doin’ out here?” A soft voice. He sounds like he’d be a surfer in another life.

You recognize it. “I-I-Ian?” you stammer, your eyes widening. You turn to the car and exhale a sob of complete relief. It is Ian, driving slowly beside you and looking at you with the utmost concern.

Ian has known you for a long while, ever since you started dating Adam. He has always been sweet, kind, and considerate, and has always been a good friend to the both of you.

“Y-yeah,” Ian says softly, “what... what’s the matter, sweetheart? You ok?”

You shake your head. “No,” you mutter. “A-Adam got into some trouble. We were attacked in the parking lot of some shitty convenience store. He t-t-told me to run, and I did. R-Reluctantly.” 

“Holy shit...that’s fucked up,” Ian says incredulously. He leans “Is Adam still there?”

You feel tears rising to your eyes again and you sniff. “I don’t know where he is... or if he’s ok, and — and — I don’t wanna go home and wait and find out that —” Your voice is dangerously close to cracking.

“Hey,” Ian says, his voice a little firmer now. It still keeps its compassion. “Y’want me to take you home?”

“Would you?” you ask desperately.

“Of course, sweetheart, come on in.” He leans over and, with a little grimace of exertion, unlocks and opens the door. You can't get into the car fast enough. You slam the door beside you and slump against the seat.

“We're gonna get you home, ok? It's not far from here. Want me to turn the heater on?”

You drive in silence for most of the trip. Ian must know you don't want to talk too much.

Ian's head comes into your peripheral vision. You're looking down at your feet.

“Hey... Adam's gonna be fine,” he says softly. “He can take care of himself. Something about him just tells me that. My guess is that he's driving home now, actually. He probably fucking destroyed whoever did this to you.”

You nod. You know it's true.

“He cares about you a lot. He loves you. I've... I've never seen Adam look at someone the way he looks at you. Well, maybe except his wife. But... that was some time ago. And she—”

He stops himself. You can both feel the tension there, and you shuffle nervously in your seat.

“Anyway,” Ian continues hesitantly, “he — he cares about you. He'll come back, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

You get to the house, Ian driving slowly up to the curb. The house, as always, is dark.

“Check the back?” you ask. Ian drives further, and you crane your neck to eye the garden. There's an empty spot where the car normally would be.

Your heart sinks.

“Hey, sweetheart...” Ian says. “It's alright... I'm sure he's just...” But he trails off. “A fight wouldn't take this long,” he mutters under his breath. You can still hear it.

There's a pause in which none of you move. You're hesitant to get out of the car and into the house. Ian watches you, waits for you. The rumble of the car is quiet and hypnotic.

“I don't... I don't wanna go in alone,” you say, and you inwardly scoff at your own childishness.

“I can stay with you if you want,” Ian says. “Adam mostly leaves his doors unlocked, doesn't he?”

“Yeah.”

“Why is that?”

You hesitate. “I don't know.”

But you do know. Regular people are pretty much out of the question — they wouldn't come in, because they think the house is abandoned. If they do come in, Adam could play it off as nothing suspicious and get them to leave as soon as possible. The werewolves wouldn't hurt you, and vampires suffer awfully bad luck if they enter a threshold uninvited. If the Others did come in, well... Adam could take care of them, couldn't he?

“Maybe it's because he's all reclusive. He probably doesn't think anyone will actually come in. Those rock 'n roll kids are exactly that. Kids. They won't do anything.”

You nod. “Er... could you stay with me, Ian? Please?”

He smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “I can do that.”

Ian parks the car on the edge of the road, and shuts off the engine. The cold seeps in your skin again and reaches your bones.

You both get out of the car and walk up to the door. It opens without any struggle.

The house itself is completely dark, and there's no sign of Adam anywhere. The room upstairs — Adam's studio — is completely silent and dark, and he's not in his bed.

Without any words, you two go into his studio again and turn on some lights. Together, you sit on his couch and wait.

After some time, Ian sits up suddenly.

“Oh, shit! We should've called the cops!” Ian cries.

You shake your head. “No,” you say.

Ian looks at you, baffled.

“Ian, Adam's... not one for the police. And, like we said before, Adam can take care of himself. He's strong like that. I'm sure he's...” you trail off. “I'm sure he's fine.”

“Did they have any weapons on them?”

“I don't think so,” you say, remembering the flashes of pointy white teeth.

“Then, what the hell happened afterward? Why isn't Adam back yet? If they didn't have any weapons, and you know Adam can throw a punch and take care of himself, then why the hell isn't he back yet?”

“I don't know,” you say miserably. A part of you thinks Ian is somehow mad at you, but the rational part of you takes over, and decides that he is not.

Ian pauses.

“Fuck it, I'm calling the cops.”

“No,” says a voice behind you. It is sharp and commanding, but you recognize it in a heartbeat.

You turn to look. Standing in the doorway, all battered, bruised, bloodied, is Adam. His sunglasses are nowhere to be found, and neither are his gloves.

“Oh, my God,” you whimper, rushing toward him. Immediately, you're engulfed in his scent, his warmth, his comforting embrace. It's a rush of relief. “You're — you're okay,” you whisper, sniffing as tears of relief come to your eyes.

“Baby, it's alright,” Adam murmurs, “I'm here. I'm here and I'm okay. It's all OK. We're fine.” He rubs your back with a hand.

“Adam, what the fuck happened, man?” Ian asks. “We were worried sick.”

“I'm sorry,” Adam says. “That took way longer than expected. I was also questioned by the authorities. They're looking for the kids now.”

Something tells you that this is not what happened.

Ian looks at Adam skeptically. But, after a few seconds, he shrugs. “I mean... I'm just glad you're alright, man. And I'm glad she's safe, too.” He gestures toward you with a small smile.

“Thank you, Ian,” Adam says gratefully. “Thank you for keeping my love safe. Thank you for staying with her. Now... I think it's time for you to go... Do you need anything before you take off? You can piss in the garden if you need.”

“You sure you don't need anything? You wanna take a look at those bruises?”

“We'll be fine, thank you,” Adam says.

Ian blinks. “You never fail to amaze me, Adam.” He stands up, and rubs your shoulder. “G'night, sweetheart. You're in very good hands now.”

“Thanks, Ian. See you soon, ok?” you say.

“Alright.” He starts to walk down the stairs. “If you guys need anything at all, just hit me up. Later.”

You and Adam don't speak until you both hear his car driving away from the house.

“What did they do to you?” you ask immediately, suddenly frantic and worried, stepping away to get a good look at Adam.

You blink, it seems, and Adam's bruises, cuts, and overall tired appearance are gone. He looks perfectly normal now.

“They did that,” Adam says. “I killed two of 'em. One of them got away.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“No, thank God for that.”

But there's something... off... about the way Adam looks. He seems sad, worried.

“Adam... what is it?” you ask slowly.

“One of the Others got away. He's bound to have talked to his clan by now. I'm still not gonna join them. And I'm sure as hell not gonna give you away and leave you.”

“So... what's gonna happen?”

Adam takes a deep breath. “How do you feel about Tangier, Morocco?”

[randbwrite]

La Comtesse’s Castle Residents

Sebastian: His relationship with Comtesse is a professional one, though he does sass her at times. His main goal is to find Comtesse someone to love after all this time. Sebastian is from the future and has been a vampire for only about 50 years.

Metal Manipulation/Magnetokinesis  - size and weight limitations apply with current lack of training

Metal Sense - can sense the presence of metals

Magnetic Flight - can fly by gliding on Earth’s EM field

Metallic Bonding - connecting people or things to metal and manipulating their actions that way

Magnetic Shield - using metal to protect them

Magnetic Field Manipulation - generating magnetic fields to destroy structures

Adaptive Reflexes - can sometimes take a few seconds to activate, but someone with them can react to someone who has super speed.

Mixed metals are much more difficult to manipulate

Arthur Conan Doyle: The famous writer was one of the first she brought back, as she is an avid reader. He has been a vampire for about 50 years now, writing various different genres of stories till he can start to publish more Holmes novels under a pseudonym.

“Luck” - doesn’t matter what they do or who falls around them. Have an innate ability to avoid being hurt, caught up in the crossfire, smushed by something incoming, and just barely being in the right place at the right time. Sometimes also means they show up in someone’s time of need even if it makes zero sense. Everything always works out.

Superhuman marksmanship - usually goes with the “luck” ability, can also be paired with energy absorption, possibly others

Adaptive reflexes - can sometimes take a few seconds to activate, but someone with them can react to someone who has super speed.

Isaac Newton: Isaac is the newest resident, only having been there for about 3 years. Comtesse felt there was a serious lacking of scientific knowledge amongst her residents and thus she went to find a universe where Isaac would agree to come back.

Energy manipulation/energy absorption - absorbing and redirecting, too much energy at one time overwhelms the ability, usually directed through hands or eyes. Learning to direct is the difficulty Can manifest as balls of energy or shock waves instead of intense beams of energy. It can be used to enhance reflexes, agility, balance, and coordination far beyond that of a human athlete.

A force field. Downside: slow moving targets or those with very little blunt force - ie anything with a blade or a strike from a finger jab can get through and won’t activate the kinetic ability

Adaptive reflexes - can sometimes take a few seconds to activate, but someone with them can react to someone who has super speed.

Jean D’Arc: Her first lesser vampire sired. He was an accident as he was exposed to her blood on the battlefield. They have a remarkably good relationship despite the fact that he did not want to come back as a vampire. Forgiveness is something she strives for, and he has done so with Comtesse, as she never intended on bringing him back.

Organic Metal Transformation - person’s physical being able to become solid moveable metal - possibly other materials 

Wing growth - can be bird or insect like and it can also be metallic, still taking the shape of bird’s wings, and shoot metallic feather projectiles like razor sharp daggers

Napoleon Bonaparte: Another accidental siring, same circumstances as Jean. She was struck across the face and he was exposed to her blood. While he healed from a nearly fatal wound on the battlefield, he did not become a vampire until his human life was over. He is currently a demi-vampire. Napoleon still eats food for nourishment and rejects drinking rouge. Jean and Comtesse train in combat together. His guilty pleasure is cooking and does so with Sebastian. He has been at the castle for 10 years.

Pyrokinesis - creating fire, takes energy to produce or heat the air. Controlling an outside force is much easier than an internal one.

Vincent Van Gogh

Solar form - when he absorbs solar energy, able to become a humanoid sun - best paired with someone with the “sunlight” ability - can also “store” a limited amount of energy for a blast

  Sketches that are made can manipulate the original object or subject

Theodorus (Theo) Van Gogh

Sunlight - ability to emit rays of differing electromagnetic waves

Vincent and Theo: The brothers came to the castle together, as neither could live without the other. She initially went looking for Vincent to bring beauty back into the world. She hadn’t anticipated needing to bring his brother along. Theo and Vincent have been at the castle for 15 years. Both have a good relationship with Comtesse.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: She went looking for him when she needed help sleeping. Music, it seemed, was something that soothed her, but the residents currently living there at the time did not know how to play. Mozart returned with her and still plays music to help her sleep at times, though she needs it much less currently. He has been at the castle for about 40 years.

Music having a direct effect on people’s emotional states, sleep inducing or coma producing included 

Ice Manipulation - Able to produce Ice on command. Able to slow molecules. Ice can also come from his breath, not just hands, and is able to form a bodily shield

Dazai Osamu: He’s been at the mansion for 7 years. She felt there needed to be another author at the castle and she stumbled across his works on one of her trips to the future. Given his past, he wasn’t difficult to convince to come back to the castle. He’s still just as strange as ever, though she seems to understand him the best out of everyone.

Can cause people to see their worst fears - like Scarlet Witch

Earth manipulation - the regular with telekinesis only being able to manipulate stone, dirt, etc. Able to liquefy earth to absorb a person

William Shakespeare: This normally psychotic man is, in this world, a normal vampire without the tendency to cause issues. A gentle soul, his aim in life is to capture the human experience and tell of it in his plays. She brought him back because he is her all-time favorite author. He has been at the castle for about 70 years.

Brings what he reads to life

Leonardo da Vinci: La Comtesse’s oldest and dearest friend. He has been there for her through thick and thin. Unfortunately for his family, neither have had any romantic interest in one another. They met when he was just a child and he grew up around her. This likely is why they can’t see one another as romantic partners. Leonardo is the one of the few in the castle who gives her lip, as she has reformed herself from previous warmongering days. He seems to find it funny that she is now the prim and proper Comtesse when she used to be quite wild. He thinks this is but a phase. They get into lively discussions about science, mathematics, and engineering from time to time. Isaac and several other members of the castle often join in.

Can borrow an ability and may be able to combine two if they’re stable and strong enough

[chocolate-parfait]

Hi! I hope you're doing well, I recently found your blog and straight up gobbled up all the Ikevamp content XD. I saw that your askbox is open, do you think I could request headcanons for Shakespeare, Mozart and Dazai with a suicidal reader? I completely understand if you're not comfortable with that, It's just that this year is really hard for me and Ikevamp boys are my coping mechanism. Again, I understand if you don't want to do it. Have a nice day!

Suicidal MC - ikevamp headcanons (Shakespeare, Mozart & Dazai)

TW: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE

This is a pretty sensitive topic for most but I'm willing to write for it in case there's even a slight chance of bringing comfort to people who are in this situation. I wrote everything based on my experience with my best friend, but if there's anything wrongly portrayed please tell me and I will fix it.

Also, if you ever need someone to talk to, know that I'm here whenever you want! I hope you'll be able to get better as soon as possible. Don't worry and take your time!

Shakespeare

When you mention it he turns to stone. He looks at you straight in the eyes and then takes your hands in his. "My dearest, what hath brought thou to form such dreadful thoughts?". In a way he can't understand why you feel that way towards yourself, but if his presence can be of consolation to you then be prepared for him to be glued to your side 24/7, never letting you out of his sight

Will some fresh air help you clear your head? Then he's going to take you into town and show you the most breathtaking locations of 19th century Paris while holding your hand the whole time. Would you perhaps prefer staying inside and rest? He'll gently hold you as he softly converses with you the whole time, his archaic way of speaking giving everything a dream-like vibe and lulling you in a peaceful sleep

You're his muse and he absolutely can't stand seeing your eyes clouded with self-hatred. Sometimes he's a bit at loss and doesn't know what the best course of action is, but if your feelings stem from something someone has said or done to you, William will make sure to take action against this fool who dared hurting you

As a writer he's very good at reading people's feelings, despite being a bit inexperienced when it comes to dealing with his own, but he knows when he's about to step his boundaries and worsen your state. He'd never forgive himself if something were to happen to you so he gives in to your every wish in order to keep you satisfied and happy. Nonetheless he corrects you whenever you speak out of self-deprecation, reminding you how important and perfect you are to him

Everyone is so different there isn't any way of being "right" or "wrong", we're just the way we are. People measure us depending on their own personal standards, and despite Shakespeare trying to be as objective as he can, as a narrator of his own story, he can't help but find you utterly beautiful in every form and moment and he makes sure to remind you of this often

Mozart

At first he can't wrap his head around the thought, but when he catches up, for the first time in his life he's afraid of not being enough. He's always been praised for how good his music was, but he certainly wasn't all that good when it came to words. What if he said the wrong thing at the wrong time? What if he wasn't convincing enough and he couldn't help you feel better about yourself? Words suddenly gain a completely new weight, and he's constantly measuring them on the most sensitive meter his mind can muster

He knows he can be a bit rough around the edges, but he'll abandon his sarcastic facade whenever he's with you. Physical contact will also increase immensely. He'll try to spend as much time as possible with you, neglecting even his piano, to keep an eye on you and to try and work the situation out at the same time. Your life is what's most important to him, to a degree he's willing to forsake everything just so that you could chase those terrible thoughts out your head.

In a way or the other he's always touching you, and you notice he's started smiling more. He thinks that if he showed you a more lighthearted side of him, then maybe you'd unconsciously feel better too. For this reason he also composes cheerful songs especially for bettering your mood, and plays them with you sitting in his lap

When he holds you close, he whispers every little reason he loves you so much as he gently caresses your hair, planting a kiss on top of your head every now and then

"You don't have to do this alone, you know. I'll always be here for you."

Dazai

The moment you tell him, he feels his heart tightening and a seemingly endless moment passes before you actually hear him release the breath he was holding in, a flurry of emotions passing through his golden eyes

Everything you're going through, he's endured it countless times, and he'll use his experience to help you deal with it. He can tell whenever one day is worse or better than the other and he'll act accordingly, changing his words and actions based on how you feel on that specific day. Wordlessly embracing you in his arms or taking you out on a date depending on your mood

If you like drinking then be prepared for having to sober up for some time as Dazai won't let neither you or himself near a drop of alcohol. During his life as a human, he tried multiple times to drown his sorrows in that sweet nectar, but it only made matters worse making him feel even more miserable. If you look closely enough you can see how serious he is about this whole issue under his usual chirping appearance

Despite having been held in many women's embraces, your love is completely different from any other he had ever experienced before. He'd never be able to suggest you a double suicide with him as he's disposed to live for you, by finding strength in your relationship. He wants you to be able to do the same, and he can promise you that even if things seem helpless now, there's going to be better days in the future, because nothing stays the same over time

[t-o-m-hollands]

Can you post a little blurb abt the Paris couple and how they’re doing a few years later? Like, did they have kiddos, did they ever choose to get married, did they ever move back to Paris together in a lovelier apartment, how’s timothée’s art (can he still produce masterpieces without being sad?), what do they usually do on their free days, did they ever full on talk about that gut wrenching letter he wrote years ago, did she keep that letter, did they ever quit smoking, did they furnish the house the way they wanted to, did they paint their walls and get bigger beds, do they have designated sides of beds?

Hi! 💗💗💗☺

God I love these questions so much, but I’m sort of done with the Paris universe you know? Like, I don’t think I can write just a blurb for them because I feel like their story is told now.

BUT! I reeeeally love these questions so I will answer them below the read more!

Concerning if or not they have children... Look, I don’t know what it is about these two but I can’t imagine them as parents? So I’d have to say no, and if they did they had them later in life. They are not cut out to be young parents. Like, god, can you imagine? They’d definitely be those obnoxious parents that never set any boundaries or rules what so ever to their children so they just roam free causing havoc. Like especially since they’d be parents in the 1950’s-60’s. If they had a kid born in that time it would be a boy and he’d have been absolutely unable to handle any sort of rules and become a rock ‘n roll star in a band in the 70’s.

I do think they would get married. Not immediately, y/n having been married already once, but they would in the end. Something small and very bohemic but chic. Definitely a small courthouse wedding, were Y/n wears something chic but minimalistic - like a satin dress or the suit Bianca Jagger had on her wedding day (hat included), and then they’d have a big riot of a party at the villa with most of the village, and the entire wedding budget spent on champagne to go around to everyone. They don’t wish for any wedding gifts but everyone brings something homecooked to eat so there’s food for everyone. The milanese jazz band makes a glorious return and plays the entire party. 

I think they’d live in Paris a few months of the year, like december to may. They’d buy a new, more expensive apartment, probably in montmartre or maybe even the 16th arrondissement , since they have plenty of money partly because of Y/n divorce but also after the inheritance. I think they’d also go to italy and travel there a lot and maybe even stay a summer there by lake Garda or something. And once they’d go on a skiing holiday to the alps but Timothée is so not a skier so they don’t do that again. They also go to Monte Carlo sometimes. 

Timothée would probably still keep the artist studio to paint in, but only have it as his work studio.

Timothée’s would go through like 10 different stages throughout his career (his blue period, just like Picasso’s, being widely admired). Then there’s his landscape phase (a phase he later in life will completely ignore and flat out deny happened, going so far as lying about not having painted certain pictures when art dealers ask him if they are genuine or not. He’ll flat out lie and say it’s a fraud made by a lesser artist). Then there’s his sketches phase, a brief phase but after his death some of the most sought after of his entire work (probably because there’s so few of them). The thing I think he’d most be admired for in the art world would be his use of colours (and most critiqued for his anatomy, he’s all sharp angles). But his longest phase would probably be sort of like Brassaï photos but as paintings (does that make sense? I don't know, I was Obsessed with Brassaï photos when I was in art school). Like dramatic but realistic paintings of Paris and Nice’s nightlife. 

And i’d say he was a better painter when he stopped moping around. He’d use his flair for the dramatics in his paintings instead of in real life. 

On their free days the live pretty much like they live in the last two part of Paris, except they are more openingly loving towards the other; and also they talk more. Like, they’d spend breakfast together and then they go off doing different things like read or lunch with friends or paint. Then they have dinner together and talk and spend the evening together or with friends. Since neither of them really have a set schedule their free days are more when they just decide to take off and go to Monte Carlo for a few days and gamble some money away and eat like kings and queens. Also, they’d discover a love for cinema, and often go there in the evening to see the newest Bergman movie or Godard. They’d go to the theatre a lot as well and without fail lovingly argue everytime about their vastly different opinions about how each shakespear play should be handled (their most divided opinions are on Othello and Macbeth)

Also, omg, Waiting For Godot actually came out 1953, I could have written that into the story!! GOD they’d argue for HOURS about the meaning of that play.

I think talking about The Letter is like poking at a bruise for the both of them. But yes, they’d talk about that. They’d also talk more about her marriage, and about William’s book. But the letter, absolutely, but it would take a while into the settled relationship before it was brought up. She’d definitely keep the letter, because she has conflicted emotions about it I’d probably have to spend a good 1,5k words on trying to explain, but she doesn’t want to throw it away. She hides it in a book (probably in a book of anatomy, which Timmy never understands why they own, and she keeps in the section showing the anatomy of the heart. That feels like something over dramatic enough (also fits with timmy writing in the letter that he has a Frankenstein's monster kind of heart)). 

And hahahaha yes I hope they quit smoking in the end. In the early 50’s smoking was still considered to be actually healthy (!!!!) but as they get older and more information about the dangers of it get out to the wider public I’d say they’d try to stop. Probably somewhere mid 1980’s they’d quit for good. 

Y/N has FULL control of the decorating of wherever they live because timothée is just too bohemian in attitude and can literally sleep in any dump. Y/n on the other hand is a very aesthetic creature and finds a love for decorating. In fact, she might even start up a small interior design business in her 50’s and do very well at it. She definitely puts up colourful and patterned wallpaper in every room, they are not a household that does white walls. The only place she doesn’t have control of the design is probably timmy’s studio, there he decides and it shows. And oh god yes, they most certainly got a big and comfortable bed together. The mattress is new but the bed frame is an antique from… rococo period maybe? Or maybe just a neoclassical one? Not sure on that actually. But its big and comfy.

For some reason I see them both as people who trash around alot in their sleep? Like, they start out with designated sides in bed (timothée sleeping closest to the door) but during sleep they’ll end up all over the place? Arm and legs just tangled together everywhere? Like absolute toddlers??

Oh god that got longer than I thought…. But that was so much fun answering, thank you a million times for sending it in!!!💗💗💗💗

[ragnarachael]

Joyride

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k  

Summary: You're heading back to your apartment after a game night at a friend's place when you encounter Loki for the first time since his invasion in 2012.

Author’s Ramblings: hi!! this is my entry for @gingerwritess​ writing challenge! congrats on 4k!!! 💖 (i hope it’s okay i’m only like 100 and some odd words past 2k,, apparently i couldn’t make it less than that for the life of me)

Warnings: talks of Shakespeare’s Coriolanus! (it’s nothing too graphic, if i’m being honest. and yes, blame National Theatre Live for this), reader is kinda hesitant in the beginning about Loki bc of the whole “take over NYC” thing. that’s really all i can think of for warnings!

LOKI TAGLIST: @sadwaywardkid​

MASTERLIST !    FEEDBACK !   AO3 LINK !

You saw him on the A Train. You noticed his lithe form when you took a minute to glance up from your book.

Him as in the one who took New York in his clutches momentarily back in 2012 while you were in the middle of a shift at the coffee shop you used to work at that was just near the main spot of action. Loki. 

It was only the two of you on this train at this time of night. You were heading back home to your apartment where your dog would most likely be sleeping on her assigned side of the bed, passed out after trying to wait up for you. Your friends hosted a game night and insisted you had come. 

And you kicked ass in Scrabble, Life—Spongebob Edition, you remembered picking Squidward as your token to play the game—and even Cluedo.

And you never won Cluedo. 

You were proud of yourself. Three wins on one game night is better than nothing. Usually, you’re a sore loser every time you’re invited over. 

It seemed like everything was going your way tonight. 

Until you caught Loki studying the cover of your book as you read. 

After you finished your last book on the train on the way to work, you decided to shove your worn copy of Coriolanus in place and never bothered to take it out. So naturally, that was your reading material of choice tonight as you waited for the final stop. 

“May I help you?” You questioned, glancing up at the God that sat across from you. When he didn’t reply, you tried to direct your attention back to the book pages, rereading the huge section you had just skipped over 

You heard him shift, which made you look up at him again. However this time, you maintained eye contact. 

What do you say when a murderer is looking at your book late at night on your train back home? You didn’t want to end up dead by the end of this interaction. You had a life to carry on with. Manuscripts to finish, your dog to take care of, your parents to mildly ignore when they tell you how you should be living. 

Not dead on the A Train after being slain by Loki, the God of Mischief. 

He seemed like he was in a trance when he apologized quietly.

That was... odd. 

“I.. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice the author’s name on the cover of your book,” he spoke up, finally leaning back on the seat as the train started to go in the direction of the third to last stop for the night. “Shakespeare, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes,” you said hesitantly, fighting the urge to look at the cover yourself to make sure that it was Shakespeare, even though you knew exactly what it was. “Another tragedy.”

“May I ask which? The title seems to be scratched off.”

You could feel your face heating up at his words. He noticed that? Now that you thought about it, it made sense that he was staring so long for the title.

“It’s uh, Coriolanus. Roman soldiers and stuff. Right up your alley if you think about it,” you said, your eyes darting back to the pages you were permanently stuck on. You didn’t want to see his reaction when he figured out you knew him. 

Loki seemed stunned at your reply for assuming such. It’s not like you had been wrong. You did some research on Asgard a while after 2012 and learned a thing or two about their politics. 

Quite Roman-esque in your unprofessional opinion. 

He seemed to mull it over for a moment before letting a chuckle out. “It appears you may be right, darling.”

Darling. 

That made chills run up your spine. Not... not in a bad way, though. You wouldn’t mind him calling you that again, as a matter of fact.

The conversation was cut by the screeching breaks of the train. You both braced yourselves in your seats so you didn’t slide with gravity as the train finally got to a stop, reaching the third to last station. 

The doors opened for no one, and waited. 

There was some sort of silence you couldn’t decipher as the doors waited for no one to arrive. You turned the page to your book, pretending to be reading. Your mind was still replaying the words Loki said. 

Mainly darling, but that's besides the point. 

Eventually, the doors closed and the train was back to moving. Loki was back to looking at your book cover, and you actually got pulled back into the script.

Until you were interrupted again. 

“Why is your copy in such poor quality?”

Loki’s voice was like velvet as he started to take interest in you again. 

“I’ve had it for a long, long time.”

That answer seemed enough for him. You started to reread a line of Volumnia’s when he continued speaking. 

“Could you tell me more about it?”

You wanted to hold yourself back, you really did. Maybe he had some kind of motive to do something bad? You don’t know if he’s turned good. He could still be the same man he was in 2012.  Regardless of your thoughts running wild, you awkwardly scooted a bit subconsciously to make more room for Loki to sit next to you. That’s when you knew it was game over. 

You told him about the plot in deep, deep detail. You spoke about each character as if you had written this play yourself. It was, after all, one of your favorites that you’ve been reading since your senior year of high school. 

Loki sat and listened intently, drinking in your unabashed excitement as you recounted everything that happens in this play; it was as if you had actually been in Rome when the play was set. 

He found it endearing. Most mortals were not passionate like you were about literature—or anything period. But, on the other hand, Loki hadn’t talked to many mortals since his deal with the Avengers granted him his freedom. 

Another thing he found interesting, he could listen to you talk about Shakespeare for hours. 

Loki had only read some of the cliché plays that were written. Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Twelfth Night. They all grasped his attention and he read them thoroughly when he had the time. But there seemed that in this moment, there was nothing quite like Shakespeare’s Coriolanus.

The train ride was less excruciating once you were talking. You found that Loki was actually well educated and not as much of an asshole as he seemed. Loki found you even more attractive than he had when he stepped into the train car. 

You were in the middle of passionately explaining Volumnia’s relationship with her son when the train came to a stop again, announcing the last stop. 

Neither you or Loki wanted this to end. 

“I—I’d love to keep going,” you started, suddenly realizing you spent so much time speaking, “but this is my stop.”

The usual dialogue came from the speakers as the doors wheezed open. Loki stood up from his seat with you as you gathered your things, your book in hand. 

“I fear this may be too forward,” he started, suddenly feeling nervous. “But may I walk you home?”

Never in your years of living did you expect to be asked by the man who took New York in his clutches to be walked home in the dead of night.

And never did you think you’d say yes. 

The two of you fell in step as you walked out of the subway car, silent as you took in the emptiness of the subway station. 

It was peaceful. A small part of the city that somewhat slept. You realized that you were less tense than when you started this journey, and smiled small as both you and Loki took the steps two at a time to reach the surface. 

Both of you made it onto the sidewalk before you realized something.

“You know,” you started carefully once your bag was secured on your back, “you don’t need to walk me back. I’m sure you have a curfew or... or something—“

“Darling, I assure you, I’m not needed back at the tower.” Loki gripped your hand gently to pull you to a full stop on the sidewalk now. “I’d much rather hear your passion for this work than hear my brother drone on about his lover.”

For some reason, that confession combined with his touch made your breath hitch. His hand felt as if it wasn’t warm, but not cold either. It was like the perfect temperature. 

Suddenly your mind wondered what it would feel like to be held in his arms. You were quick to wipe away that thought by blinking up at Loki, furrowing your brows together. 

“Are you sure? Sounds much more invigorating, hearing about someone’s dating life rather than being told about a Roman soldier in depth.”

“I am positive,” Loki chuckled in reply. “Your knowledge on this play is far better than any mortal’s. Almost as if you had studied with the Bard himself.”

You felt your face heat up from the compliment, and decided to keep your hand locked in his as you started to walk down the sidewalk again. 

“Flattering gets you nowhere, Loki.”

“I’m merely speaking the truth!” His voice sounded like he was accused of something like a child. This made you laugh. You just shook your head to dismiss the subject 

“So, back to Volumnia and how she’d rather her son die in battle than live a life of shame?”

“Please. I’m all ears.”

The walk back to your apartment was quicker than you expected as you broke down the rest of the play. And for once, you didn’t want to sleep. You wanted to stay up and keep talking to Loki. You didn’t care about the time or the place, you wanted to keep talking. 

Even if you’ve exhausted your extensive knowledge on this play. 

You and Loki stood in front of your apartment building, laughing at a small joke you had made about Caius Marcius yearning to fight Aufidius during an important meeting. 

The blanket of silence between you two was comfortable. You noticed Loki’s gaze seemed soft. Almost... loving. You tried to ignore it, but he seemed so smitten in this moment. The moonlight hit his face just right which made you swoon internally when you saw just how handsome he could be in the different lighting of the night.

“I really should get going,” you sighed, letting the heel of your hand gently rub at your eye. “I’ve got work tomorrow.”

Loki shifted his weight on his feet, seeming just as dejected as you. It was nice knowing you both didn’t want this night to end. 

“I’d like to see you again, if that—“

“Yes,” you cut him off instantly, looking up into his eyes. It was like a trance. You admittedly loved every second of it. 

He chuckled at your sudden response. Minutes, maybe even hours ago, you two had wanted nothing to do with each other.

And yet here you both stood, smitten in conversation, dancing around the harsh reality that you’d have to carry on with your lives after you stopped talking. 

You licked your dry lips slowly, a smile settling across your features before repeating yourself again. “Yes please.”

Loki smiled back at you before nodding. Neither of you knew what to do from here. It seemed as though goodbyes weren’t your forte. 

You fumbled for a moment, almost as if you were getting your keys from your bag.

Which you were doing, Loki realized. Getting your keys. And a pen, it seemed. You were quick to bite the plastic cap off before opening to the first page in your copy of Coriolanus and writing. 

Loki tried to see what you had written, but you were far too fast. By the time he tried to get a closer look, you were done writing and capped the pen before closing the book and passing it over to him.

“A reason to see me again.” 

You sounded breathless, as if you had just ran into him on the street and dropped everything onto the ground. Loki felt his heart speed up momentarily before taking the book carefully. 

“I already had a reason, darling.” Loki’s smile knocked the breath right out of you before he stepped a little closer to get in your personal space, reaching for one of your hands. You weren’t sure as to what he was doing until his long, gentle fingers were grabbing your own and lifted it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

You were blushing. You were certain of it. 

You said your final goodnights for the night, Loki patiently waiting until you were in the lobby of the building to actually take his leave with your book.

[we-are-inevitable]

modern art // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: hi !! so some of you may remember an old songfic i did in march of last year, titled ‘modern art’ after the song “IDK You Yet” by Alexander 23. well, i’ve always thought that that one shot would work great as a stand alone fic, and here we are! i have ch. 1 edited and SO MUCH of it as changed- like, for example, the fic is a chapter fic now !! regardless, i hope you guys like this !!

WARNINGS: depression, anxiety, self-deprecation, past addiction, mentions of addiction, just general Bad Times- pls be mindful when reading !! it’s just very Not Happy rn ADDITIONAL INFO: all characters are in their mid-twenties in the fic. oh also this is probably important but it’s a soulmate au !!

Read On AO3!

tag list: @bound-for-santa-fe @wannabecowboypunk @shippingcannons @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @smallsies @deliciouspeachpirate @newsies-is-my-erster 

Jack doesn't know what’s going on with himself, but he knows that he could really use his soulmate right about now.

They’ve communicated before. Never verbally, and never enough to reveal who they were. Perhaps they are both just... dealing with some unspoken fears, dealing with the worry of rejection sitting heavy in their chests. Perhaps they both like this mystery- the uncertainty that came with the notes scrawled across their bodies in a handwriting that isn’t their own.

Or perhaps they just aren’t ready to take the plunge. To grow up and face the harsh fact that, as soon as they meet, wherever and whenever that may be, a new chapter of their life will unfold. Consume them. Change anything and everything they’ve ever known or held dear.

They had been braver when they were children, that much was true. Jack remembers staying up late often, writing notes on his skin and watching in awe as the replies appeared. He remembers the giddy rush of trying to quickly wash off the ink on his wrist when they ran out of space to talk, and, oh, how they talked. There were school days when Jack would go to class exhausted, feeling like he’d been walking through quicksand for miles on end, but all of it had been worth it. The exhaustion he felt had been worth being able to talk to them until two, three, four in the morning. Sometimes he regretted it, of course, but only because it was harder for him to focus in class. Never because he was upset at them.

He could never be upset with them.

Even now, Jack remembers a lot about his soulmate. They liked music. They knew how to play the piano. They were into a few video games, even some that Jack had never played, and said that they always tried carrying a book with them wherever they went. Jack remembers that, as a younger kid, they liked Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, but also liked analyzing Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe and a bunch of other fancy authors that Jack had never even heard of. They were intimidatingly smart, and sometimes, would carefully correct Jack’s grammar whenever he misspelled a word or something- but they were never mean about it, they were just… there. A steady presence that he could count on.

Fifteen year old Jack dreamed of finding them one day. But now, twenty-five year old Jack is losing hope.

He can’t exactly help it. For starters, he and his soulmate haven’t communicated in… well, shit, it had to be nearly a year. Maybe nine months or so, but there’s no way to tell for sure, and even then, their conversations since reaching adulthood have been dull, for lack of a better word. A few positive comments here, a ‘have a good day’ there- it’s all so mundane, and neither of them can be blamed for it. They both have busy lives- or, well, Jack does, at least. His job as a graphic designer is hard enough on its own, but the added pressure of doing freelance work and commissions on the side has been eating away at him for weeks, coupled with debilitating self-doubt and lack of motivation for… anything.

Saying that he’s overwhelmed is the understatement of the century.

There is always another design, another client, another meeting, another deadline, another sleepless night as he stares at a blank canvas and prays for a spark of inspiration from whatever God is listening. Usually his inspiration comes from the world around him- his friends, city life, even the quiet confines of his apartment, but right now... Jack is stuck. He had holed himself up in his room days ago, trying and failing to get out of bed every morning when the time came to work- and thank God that the majority of his work could be done from home. His boss was understanding, too, to an extent.

Still, though, there’s a constant heavy weight on his chest that prevents him from moving most days, and he’s lucky if he even gets up long enough to shower or eat or do literally anything aside from lie in silence and count the cracks in his ceiling.

Nothing had happened to him recently to bring this on, from what he can tell. Jack has always been the happy-go-lucky leader, the man with a plan, the guy who always knew just what to say to motivate others into doing the best thing for themselves, but when that responsibility is reflected back onto himself, Jack feels helpless. There are words waiting to be said, sketches waiting to be drawn, designs waiting to be sent to clients… yet Jack lies there, motionless in his room for three days before he even has the energy, the willpower, to pull back his curtains and allow the sunlight to shine through. There is so much he wants to do, so much he needs to do, but he can't bring himself to do any of it.

In all twenty-five years of his life, through all of the things he’s been through, the ups and downs and foster homes and graduations and birthdays and funerals and therapists and rehab facilities and whatever the fuck else life decided to throw at him, Jack has never felt so worthless, so… lonely. His closest friends are all moving on with their lives. Many have already found their soulmate, have settled down and hidden their rowdy, rambunctious pasts behind skeletons in a closet. They’d all gotten their adventures done and over with in high school and college, and most are moving onto bigger and better things in life. They have careers. Families. Some have children, others have pets, a few have an insane amount of plants to care for.

All have seemingly left Jack behind in the dust.

No one told him when to flip the switch.

No one told him when he had aged out of adventure.

Now, they would never say it, but Jack knows. He knows. Saturday hangouts and trips to the bar had been replaced by Sunday church services and playdates for the kids. Rather than hearing yelling from his living room after his friends had all been teetering just on the edge between tipsy and fucked up, Jack hears the news, and documentaries, and podcasts, and the ghosts of a past life that he still seemed to be desperately clinging on to.

Katherine had been the one to tell him that he needed to grow up, though she didn’t put it in such a blunt manner. No, she’s just.... gently urging him to find a bigger apartment, or buy matching furniture from a place that is not a thrift store, or purchase dishes that weren’t of the plastic Walmart brand. She says it was because she wants to see him in a more professional, "adulty" lifestyle, but he knows it’s really because she can see that he’s a mess.

Deep down, Jack knows she’s right. She’s always right.

He just can’t help but feel cemented in place, dreaming of the past while dreading the new future ahead of him.

Jack never asked to feel so broken for no reason. All of the hope and optimism he had felt as a teenager was gone, lost in a sea of uncertain plans and shitty jobs and bill extensions and canvases dropped onto the floor with no rhyme or reason. And, yes, maybe Jack would look dramatic to someone who didn’t know his situation, but Jack knows what dramatic feels like. Dramatic feels like watching his best friend, Charlie, belt onstage in front of a backdrop that he helped create for the school play. Dramatic feels like laughing at the top of his lungs while walking through a random gas station at two in the morning, joined by Race and Al, all while higher than a kite. Dramatic feels like driving to the outskirts of the city with Katherine, climbing onto the roof of an old building and screaming about all of their stress, their anxiety, their insecurities, just to have some form of emotional release.

Dramatic doesn’t feel like sadness. It’s not supposed to.

Not for Jack.

He had been so… so happy, as a teenager. Proud and defiant and carefree. He was the kind of guy to skate and smoke weed in Central Park until midnight and take a math test at eight in the morning the next day. He was the kid who stood on a table in the cafeteria and came out as bisexual to everyone around him, just because of a dumbass bet that he didn’t even get paid for. He was the boy who wasn’t at all good in an academic sense, but who always knew how to talk himself out of trouble, who always came up with the most ridiculous- or most believable- lies to cover his ass when he needed it, who was always the class favorite, the teacher’s pet without meaning to be.

Jack had felt on top of the world back then, but now he’s struggling to even get off of the ground. The longer time goes on, the more lost Jack feels inside his own life. He feels like something was missing, something big. Something bigger than himself.

When his mother was alive, which now felt like lifetimes ago, she would often echo this old wives’ tale about how it’s best to find your soulmate while you’re younger, just to save them- and yourself- the pain of being alone for a long time. Jack had always kind of believed her; logically, he knew it was true, but he had always told himself that it wouldn’t happen to him. That he would be fine alone, though it wouldn’t be ideal, and that he would have plenty of time for soulmates after he got out and made a name for himself.

He’s starting to think, though, that maybe she was right. Maybe Jack had waited too long to make a move, to make contact again, because now, he just feels nauseous even thinking about it.

Don’t get him wrong, he knows the negative effects of self deprecation and not taking his own mental health seriously, he’s been to rehab before, blah, blah, blah, but, fuck, how could he put his soulmate through something like this? This fucked up state of mind he has now. Jack can’t even imagine talking to Katherine about this, and Katherine had been his best friend for over a decade. He can’t just meet his soulmate now- it’s been too long, he’s too messed up, they won’t like him, they’ll hate him for not trying hard enough, and Jack will just end up alone again, wasting away in his bedroom because no one fucking cares. No one cares. He has nobody.

That’s not true. He has Medda, his mom, his savior, his impulse control, but the thought of telling her that everything is acting up again makes him want to scream. He has Tony, but Tony has Al, and Tony and Al have a kid- a sweet little five year old girl who calls Jack ‘Uncle Jackie’ and takes no shit from anyone. He has Katherine, but Katherine has her soulmate- this dude named Darcy, who Jack doesn’t have much of an opinion on because they just met, like, a month ago, and Jack hasn’t exactly been emotionally ready for a hangout session between the three of them. He also has Charlie, and Charlie has certainly seen him in worse times- like when Jack was kind of hooked on pills for the entirety their freshman year of college- but Charlie has grad school to worry about and Charlie would hate him if he bothered him with this.

Still, there are other people who would listen, probably. He could easily talk to Elmer, or Romeo, or Specs, or Jojo or Finch or Sean or a fucking therapist but that’s just it, isn’t it? If he talks, he burdens, and Jack Francisco Kelly would rather run himself into the ground than be a burden anyone.

So, he makes a vow.

He makes eye contact with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s gripping onto the sink, holding on for dear life, as he stares into his own sunken eyes. He takes in his appearance. Damp, messy hair, falling down to cover his forehead. Pale skin, which isn’t normal at all. Dark circles have taken their place around his eyes, and his smile- one of his favorite things about himself- is… nonexistent.

Distantly, Jack registers himself dumping a full bottle of ibuprofen into the sink. And then, he does the same thing with the bottle of melatonin from his medicine cabinet. The valium follows. He lets the water run for a long time. It's not that he doesn't trust himself- he'd done so, so good in rehab, and he doesn't even feel urges that often anymore- but it's better safe than sorry, especially since he's like... this.

This is not the Jack Kelly he’s used to anymore. This is not the Jack Kelly he wants to be.

But this Jack Kelly is the one who vows not to reach out. The one who vows to only answer when his soulmate is ready, and maybe not even then.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though.

Not when a heart appears on the back of his hand the next morning.

It’s there when Jack wakes up, and, honestly, it almost brings Jack to tears- but not necessarily for happy reasons. Sure, Jack wants to be happy. Who wouldn’t be happy after seeing something like this? A lopsided heart drawn in red ink, right on the back of his left hand- it was the definition of a symbol, of a romantic gesture, and Jack wants so badly to write back, to strike up conversation, to draw a goddamn heart, but… he can’t.

He can’t, and that’s horrible of him, and he knows it.

Right now, though… Jack can’t even work up the courage, the energy, to call his mom.

His soulmate, whoever they are, is going to have to wait.

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Beyond the Corona Walls Part 2

Part two is here, so let’s get on with the rest of the stupid shall we...

You can find part 1 here - https://rachelbethhines.tumblr.com/post/624977559380213760/tangled-salt-marathon-beyond-the-corona-walls

Summary: Rapunzel and the group return to Vardaros to find Eugene, only to learn about his engagement to Stalyan, leaving Rapunzel heartbroken and regretting her decision on rejecting Eugene's marriage proposal. However, after being encouraged by Cassandra, Rapunzel returns to Vardaros and stops the wedding between Eugene and Stalyan. Meanwhile, Adria gives Raps another piece of the scroll and an ominous hint to her future. 

So Why is the Baron Still Operating If Both Raps and Eugene Know Who He Is?

Keep in mind this guy still has a house in Corona that they know about, he’s still a crime boss who’s criminal actions still affect their kingdom, and they both have the ear of the man who is in charge of running things and who has had a vested interest in cracking down on crime for the past 19 years. So why hasn’t Frederic gone after this dude? You can’t say it’s because he’s hiding out here, when he has a base of operations and living quarters in the kingdom itself. And if it’s because he has money, then that’s just further proof that Frederic is corrupt. 

The Writers Undermine Themselves When They Try to Make Conflicts Lopsided

So the writers are trying to have their cake and eat it too in this episode. They want to make Stalyan just unlikeable enough so that the audience won’t hold Eugene accountable for his past actions, but not so unlikable that she’s irremediable later. Hence the excuse that the blackmail is her dad’s idea and that she still believes that Eugene is really in love with her and is just playing hard to get. 

The problem is, by having Stalyan still aware of the situation and complacent in this plan instead of fighting against it, the audience isn’t inclined to see things her way and less inclined to give her a second chance when they try to pull her redemption later. 

Moreover, this also undermines Eugene’s character arc as well, because him learning to be more responsible has to include acknowledgement of his past wrongs. Instead all he does is make excuses or look vaguely guilty over shit that’s only implied not stated. There’s no outright admittance of wrong nor apology for the way he treated her. 

Staylan can’t be sympathetic later on if don't show things from her perspective in the now and Eugene can’t grow as a character if he doesn’t realize what he’s done wrong specifically. 

Context Is Key 

Yeah, that’s a lot of screenshots, I know, but you need to hear/read the line in full. Because there’s not enough context within the episode to make this line work. 

What does ‘someone like you’ mean? What was his relationship with Stalyan like before the break up? When did the break up happen? Why did he leave her at the altar? Why is she still trying to be with him after such a thing? Why wouldn’t Stalyan believe him when he says he’s really in love with Raps? And why, oh why, are we going with this ‘marriage is a prison’ metaphor when the person saying it wants to get married herself? To the very person she’s saying ‘don't get married’ to, no less! 

Now we get hints to answer some of those questions, but none of those hints are in the actual episode itself. Hence the main failing of the episode. That’s because the writers still don’t want to admit fault in their mains. Because, at the end of the day, for all of their talk about how ‘it’s not a kids show’, they can’t or won’t tackle actual mature topics like ‘relationships are hard and failed ones can be the fault of both parties or neither party’. 

‘Contrived Misunderstanding’ Is Literally the Dumbest Plot Point Ever

Unless you are the Bard of Avon risen from the unholy grave himself, don’t fucking do this. Even then I still criticize Shakespeare heavily for bullcrap like this. It’s lazy and more over it’s not fun. 

We already know what the ending outcome is going to be so there’s no tension to be had here. It’s just a cheap way to have conflict between the mains without having them actually address shit or grow as people. Instead of having believable conflicts where people have competing needs or desires, they just throw Stalyan in here to be a scapegoat; and then throw the Baron in here on top of that to be her scapegoat. 

So Let’s Talk About Staylan’s Thought Process Here

Okay, if we’re to make any sense of Staylan’s actions here, we have to answer some of those above questions. 

What does ‘someone like you’ mean? What was his relationship with Stalyan like before the break up?

We honestly don’t know what their relationship was like. We never see them before the break up, only afterwards, and that’s not a good indicator of anything really. All we know are five things; 

Eugene wasn’t a very good person during his Flynn Rider days

He is hinted to be a former womanizer in both the movie and during certain points in season one (the threesome joke in TRoS comes most to mind)

He left Staylan at the altar instead of being the bigger person and breaking things off with her respectfully

He’s known Staylan since they were both teenagers (he’s had a crush on her since they were 15/16) and they’ve been in some sort of long term relationship for some undetermined amount of time

They use to pull jobs together, with Staylan sometimes goating him on, possibly taking charge most of the time.

That’s it. That’s all we got. You can’t really judge Stalyan based off that information alone. All we get from this is that she’s sometimes bossy and probably a little spoiled, but so is Rapunzel honestly, and neither of those things mean that they’re abusive on their own. If anything, knowing those things actually puts Eugene in more of a bad light, but he’s pulling the woobie card here; so you’re not meant to think about those things in the moment which is manipulative writing.  

When did the break up happen? Why did he leave her at the altar?

Now here’s the million dollar question, because honestly the show doesn’t give us a consistent time frame of events and contradicts itself all the time. Some have argued that the break up happened eight years ago when the Baron screwed Eugene and Lance over during that robbery flashback in TRoS. Yet in Flynnpostor the Baron says that he had hired Eugene to steal the crown in the movie indicating that they were still working together all the way up until he met Rapunzel. 

So which is it? Cause either answer drastically changes the context of his relationship with Staylan, their subsequent break up, and informs the motivation behind Stalyan’s words and actions. 

Why is she still trying to be with him after such a thing? Why wouldn’t Stalyan believe him when he says he’s really in love with Raps?

Here’s what I think went down, and what I think the writers are trying to poorly imply here. 

Eugene and Staylan had a tremulous on again/off again relationship for several years; where she’d be bratty and controlling and he’d cheat on her and/or leave, only, for whatever reason, to come crawling back and she’d ultimately ‘forgive’ him and they start at square one. The ‘leave her at the altar’ can’t be a one and done thing otherwise she wouldn’t be conditioned to take him back so readily, nor believe his relationship with Raps isn’t serious. 

In fact, if we take ‘stealing the crown for the Baron’ thing at face value then it implies he stood Stalyan up just to be with Rapunzel. Which makes sense as no self respecting woman would wait around for 8 flipping years. One year is already pushing things as is, but if Eugene has a history of con artistry and cheating then, yeah, she could convince herself that Eugene is pulling a scam and still loves her instead. 

To Staylan’s mind, she’s just trying to convince Eugene to give up his cushy life of royalty to live with her in a less comfortable but ultimately ‘truer’ way of life. She doesn’t see it as asking him to choose between her and Rapunzel cause she doesn’t see that what he has with Rapunzel as love. She thinks he’s faking it, like always. She thinks that ‘Eugene’ is his latest con and that Flynn Rider is his true identity. 

And why, oh why, are we going with this ‘marriage is a prison’ metaphor when the person saying it wants to get married herself? To the very person she’s saying ‘don't get married’ to, no less!

Well the real reason is cause the writers have really messed up ideas about marriage, but the in universe reason is that Staylan sees ‘love’ as ‘unconditional acceptance’. Eugene, or ‘Flynn’, doesn’t have to pretend with her. She knows every awful thing about him, been hurt by him, and she still takes him back, and vise versa. Their on again/off again relationship has convinced her that putting up with mistreatment means that you must really love that person. She doesn’t understand that people can change and grow and that being in a healthy relationship requires both of those things. 

That’s the only interpretation of their relationship that actually makes sense of Stalyan’s actions to my mind. Feel free to interpret it another way if you’d like, because we really have no clue. Just don’t try to pass off you’re interpretation as fact. And if you still see Staylan as the only person in the wrong here; I have to ask you to ask yourself why? Is it the manipulative writing, is it cause she’s not conventionally ‘nice’ like Rapunzel, or is just cause you see her as a threat to New Dream? Because holding her actually accountable for her actions is one thing, calling her ‘a child abuser’ (fandom’s words not mine) just cause she’s a bitchy and bitter ex is another thing entirely. (also they’re the same freaking age what the hell tumblr) 

This Song Would Hold More Weight If They Gave Us an Actual Real Interpersonal Conflict 

I’m just going to split ball a few ideas here, just to show what we potentially missed out on..

Stalyan is blissfuly unaware of the Baron’s plot, meaning Eugene now has to wrestle with admitting the truth of his past actions to her, along with keeping Lance safe, and trying to figure out a way to save his relationship with Rapunzel 

There’s is no Baron involvement, Stalyan is his ex, but he comes to realize that they have more in common than he and Raps does. Meaning that the narrative has to actually address his and Rapunzel’s relationship issues; like their lack of communication and their seemingly conflicting life goals 

Once again, no Baron involvement and Stalyan is his ex, but she’s just a victim Eugene screwed over when he was still Flynn Rider. She warns Rapunzel of what he use to be like and she has to confront the fact that she rushed into a relationship with someone she barely knows while he has to confront the fact that simply giving up his ways isn’t always enough and other people are still hurt by his actions 

Dump the ‘ex’ plot altogether and have Rapunzel meet someone new instead. Have her question if a committed relationship is what she wants, and if Eugene really is the person for her. Address the fact that she has no experiences to in which to judge their relationship by. 

What makes these options stronger is that there’s no clean cut bad guy (except for the Baron). There’s no right or wrong answer to the problem; no easy solution. The less sure an outcome the more tension you can add to the conflict, and these conflicts can go any number of ways; from a temporary break up to a reaffirmation of love.  

That’s mature. That’s complex. That’s not reaching for the easy low hanging fruit. The creators seem to think thing dark, edgy, and shocking is ’deep’ but it’s actually quite shallow, especially when you constantly present one sided conflicts like today’s episode. 

Your Name Literally Means ‘Lettuce’, Rapunzel

Unlike some fans, I don’t mind Rapunzel being jealous and hypocritical. As I said before, I like my heroines to have actual flaws. The problem is that the show goes out of its way to justify her bitchiness instead of calling it for what it is. 

I Don’t Usually Bring Shipping Into These Reviews But,

Eugene and Lance have the healthiest relationship in the show. Like there is zero competition, here. Outside of a few ‘not-so-serious’ crack pairings, like Pete/Stan/Willow or Caine/Trevor, I don't really have any other ‘canon’ ships. I’m like 90% of the time shipping crossover pairings and 90% of those are Varian ships.   

But this is still a flaw because it’s not intentional. The writers genuinely think that New Dream is a healthy romantic pairing and that Cass and Raps are a genuinely good friendship/sibling relationship, but they aren’t. And before you say anything, Casspunzel, isn’t the intent of the creators; regardless if you or some of the non-writing staff ship them. Like, it’s okay to ship them, but they aren’t intentionally written to be romantic any more than Lance and Eugene. 

My point in bringing up all this up is this: A bunch of male writers only knew how to portray a male friendship well; not a female friendship, not a sister relationship, not a mother and child relationship, not a father and child relationship, not a gay romance, not even a het romance. That tells me that the creators on this show have an extremely limited world view. Which you need to expand upon if you have any inspirations as a creative writer.   

You’ll Have an Ice Sculpture of Shorty at Your Wedding, Raps. 

You don’t get to judge, woman. 

I Usually Love the Art Direction on the Show, but, Not Gonna Lie, I’m Disappointed We Didn’t Get an Actual Wedding Dress for Stalyan

This is animated in what? Toonboom? Flash? Would it really have been that time consuming just to make a palette swap of her regular dress here? I mean you made a bunch of new character designs and gave Raps a new outfit just for this episode so clicking a few new swatches on an already existing model doesn’t sound that hard. 

But yes, I’m nitpicking here. That’s cause I hate where all this is going, and I’m trying to put off the inevitable. 

Deactivating the Rocks Was a Mistake 

Like I said, making the rocks no longer a threat means that our heroine no longer has a reason for her quest. You’ve just ended your main conflict and now we’re going to have to sit through a whole season of watching the creators spin their wheels trying to find a new one. While also invalidating both the previous and future conflicts cause all she had to do was touch a rock and that’s it. That’s what this whole story amounts to. 

Also you’re telling me that the main hero was just now willing to risk the life of a bunch of innocent bystanders just cause she be jelly? 

Lack of Remorse Undermines Stalyan’s Future Appearances 

If you want to pawn off the blackmail stuff onto her dad then you need to have her stand up to her dad on screen. Because we get no indication that she learns anything from these events in this episode, we have no reason to root for her redemption later. I mean she’s literally declaring revenge here. 

Say it with me; It’s a lack of setup and resolve. 

Nothing Is Resolved

Rapunzel tries to hold an honest conversation for once and Eugene just shuts her down. Yet, this is presented as a form of positive growth for him? The whole point of their relationship problems is their lack of communication and Rapunzel not being assertive about what she wants. But sure, let's have them still not communicate and have Eugene actively talk over her in order to drag out this plot point that doesn’t need to be dragged out. 

Stop Treating Marriage as a Trap

Okay, first off, she was about to ask you to marry her, you dolt, so stop assuming. Second off, this a really bad lesson and the fact that Rapunzel now feels pressured to lie through her teeth about what she really wants contradicts this whole ‘Rapunzel needs to choose for herself thing’ the story’s got going on.  

I want to make it clear that the writers threw in this ‘forced marriage’ plot not teach Eugene responsibility, you know the thing he actually needs to learn, but to teach him that ‘marriage is bad’. Even though respectfully asking the person you're already in a committed relationship with to marry you is not in any way, shape, or form the same as a bitchy ex blackmailing you into doing something you don’t wanna do. 

Marriage is Not a Trap; Stop Treating It As Such. 

Oh Look, Now It’s Eugene’s Turn To Have His Feeling Ignored

Yes, how dare Eugene have an opinion that different from Raps. 

Remind me again which relationship was the toxic one? 

‘Destiny’ Is Not a Reason

Like ‘destiny’ in a narrative sense means that there’s either an unavoidable consequence for not fulfilling it, a fate that can’t be avoid no matter how hard you try, or a prophecy to help show the characters what needs to be done. It’s a tool to create tension and foreshadowing. It’s not a goal in of itself. But the series never expands upon this ‘destiny’ stuff. It’s treated like an end all and be all for the characters actions, but that’s not how its supposed to work. 

So, What Was the Point?

You’ll hear me ask this question a lot during season two. But for this episode specifically there’s barely anything worthwhile to the ongoing narrative here. 

None of the mains learn anything, none of the side characters learn anything, the Baron and Stalyan wind up not adding anything to the overall narrative, and Vardaros and its inhabitants never come back into play after this season. So what was the point? 

The only reason why I don’t recommend skipping the episode altogether is because of Adria’s introduction, the DK flashback, and the scroll pecice. But all of that is so divorced from the episode’s A plot that it might as well not have been here.You could have taken nearly all of Adria’s scenes and fitted them into another episode. Meaning, you could have easily cut all of Vardaros, the Baron, and Stalyan out of the show and it wouldn’t have made a difference to the story arc. 

Conclusion

I’ll give the opening this much. It lets you know what your in for for the rest of season; lots of filler, a disconnected arc, and no Varian (or other main threat) to be seen. Ugh! 

[theuniversitychallengereview]

UC 50.35 - Imperial vs Warwick

This is episode thirty five of this years University Challenge. Almost exactly one year ago, on 23rd March 2020, the UK was plunged into what we thought would be its only lockdown. Instead it was the first of going on three, four? Where does a lockdown end and a Tier 4 start? Manchester, where I live, has basically been in lockdown for most of the twelve months since then, and who knows how much longer this one is going to actually last. 

There is a peculiar magic to a revolution of the sun, with the circularity giving meaning to the meaningless marker of three hundred and sixty five days. Somehow it feels so much more momentous that a year will have passed than that a day less than a year has passed. You remember what you were doing as the lockdown was announced, where you watched Boris make his serious address from. The tingles of fear, and maybe even guilty nervous excitement made me restless. No one knew what any of it meant. So many things have changed since then, but in some ways we are exactly where we were. Stuck inside, nowhere to go, with no concept of when life will return to normal. 

There was also a University Challenge match on the 23rd March. I don’t know if I watched it on the day. Probably not. I wrote about it six days later, by which point I was working from home with a pile of books stacked underneath my laptop acting as a makeshift stand. There is something strange about being able to read exactly what I was thinking at the time everything was starting. The following paragraphs are taken directly from that blog, and it still feels like we are in the same limbo state.

What is going on? When I wrote the last blog it was pretty clear that we were in a dire situation, but the inaction of the Government left it feeling like we were in some kind of limbo state, just waiting for the disaster to hit us. But then action was taken. Lockdown.

We now know exactly what we have to do (I was going to list the ‘Stay Home’ instructions here, but if you’re getting your lockdown lowdown from a University Challenge blog then frankly there’s no hope for you anyway), but it still feels really surreal. You’ve never done a home workout in your life, but you’ve done two in the past three days. People say ‘social distancing’ as if its always been a well-known term that was commonly used in daily life. There are never any beans (screw your toilet paper shortages, its the beans that really matter).

We’re still in limbo, really, because we have no idea how long this is going to last. And we’re still waiting for the disaster to hit, because the worst of it hasn’t yet, and the lockdown won’t start properly helping for a few weeks. So what do we do? What can we do? You feel like you want to be distracted from all that is going on, but also to be clued up to the eyeballs with the latest news.

So we do what we can. We stay inside. We call our friends and family and play that stupid ‘chips and guac’ game on Houseparty. We take solace in books, or films, or TV…

As I did a year ago, I’ll try and distract you all (and myself too), with some words about a television quiz show. Let’s not bother with the rules, here’s your first starter for ten...

Imperial and Warwick have already played each other in this years tournament, with the Avonsiders coming out convincing winners, 200 to 120. They then beat another of the semi finalists, Magdalene, Cambridge, by 200 to 160. Fans of a nice round number, it seems. 

But I wouldn’t write Imperial off. They followed up their loss to Warwick with magnificent wins over King’s and Durham. Their skipper Kohn is the most in-form player left in the competition, and has averaged more than six starters a game. 

Having lost their first round match to Strathclyde, Imperial were given a reprieve via the high-scoring loser play-offs, and boy did they take advantage of it. This coincided with the gap in filming caused by Covid, and Kohn used the extra time to train intensely - think Stallone in Rocky but its just a guy furiously reading (with the same music playing, obviously).

Warwick, meanwhile, have had a relatively smooth path to the last four, winning by an average of 92.5 points. However, if you dive a bit deeper into those statistics, the margin has been decreasing each time (150, 100, 80, 40...), so if Imperial could get stuck into them early on then we’d have a real match on our hands. 

Kohn is quickest on the buzzer for the first starter, and they take three bonuses, with Kohn saying that ‘this is giving me strong Dr Faustus vibes’, before giving Dr Faustus as the correct answer for the third. His speed is his downfall on the next starter though, and he loses five points with a neg, allowing his opposite number Rout to pick up the scraps.

A very long-winded biology question falls to no one, before another Imperial neg, this time from Wong, let Braid in to take the lead for Warwick. An incredibly easy bonuse set on Shakespeare extended this for them, though they didn’t recognise ‘Night of the Living Dead’ from its description. 

Marrow, Imperial’s resident smiler, took the first picture starter to her evident delight, and a couple of bonuses tied the game at thirty fives. Braid is unlucky with his guess of ‘suffer no fools’ on the next starter - the answer is ‘suffer fools gladly’. 

A trademark rapid-buzz from Kohn took the lead back to London, before a second neg from Wong allowed Braid to level the game again. Imperial’s tactic seems to be to win the buzzer race, regardless of whether or not they know the answer. So far they have three negs to three correct starters. An inspired guess of semi-colon from Marrow stole back the initiative. Neither side could string together a run of starters yet. 

Not wanting to let Kohn have all the credit, Rout comes in super early on the next starter with Hamiltonian Operator. By now we have reached the music round, in a riveting but so-far low-scoring match. Kohn takes us to seventy apiece with the musical starter, giving Miles Davis and Dave Brubeck as his answer, even though the question had only asked for one person (to be fair to him, the question asked for ‘a bandleader and soloist’, making it seem as though they were two different people, but anyway, Paxman lets him off).

Both teams are making a dangerous habit of dropping bonuses, and six pass in succession with no correct answers. A pair of starters from Burrell, along with a few made five pointers, including some on Bulgarian football teams, gave Warwick the biggest lead of the match so far - fifty. 

Kohn isn’t content to give up so easily, and takes the second picture starter, along with a pair of bonuses. Braid stumbles on a chemical elements question, and again Kohn takes advantage. Dismissing some of the bonuses as too easy, Imperial close to within ten. 

Pollard gets his first starter of the evening with Yuri Gagarin, and a rare full set from Warwick gave them a thirty five point lead. A supremely clutch buzz from Kohn keeps Imperial in it, but Braid is quickest to identify/guess that a million seconds is two weeks (to the closest week), possibly putting the game beyond the reach of the Londoners. Paxman wastes some time by going on about how stupid it is to know that fact, and Warwick waste some more time with a lengthy conference on the bonuses. They are forty points clear, and probably heading to the final. 

But HANG ON!

Braid negs. Thirty five points. 

Kohn trips over his tongue, but gets the answer out in the end. Twenty five points. Could they do it?

No (sorry to have built up your hopes, if I did). The gong follows soon after, with Imperial still twenty five points adrift. 

Final Score: Imperial 135 - 160 Warwick

Probably a deserved win for Warwick that, but Imperial were an absolute delight and it was a pleasure to watch their evolution over the course of the tournament, especially Kohn’s performances on the buzzer. 

I’m looking forward to the second semi-final next week, which also promises to be a barnstormer. See you then.

If you’ve enjoyed this, but can’t wait until next week for another fix of University Challenge, then you can check out my Patreon, where I’ve been reviewing the 2015/16 series.

[natsubeatsrock]

Anime Recommendations Based on Fairy Tail's Big Four Ships

I've been meaning to do this for a long time. (I feel like I'm saying that a lot, nowadays...)

The Big Four ships of Fairy Tail are ubiquitous among fans. It's hard to find too many people that don't like even one of them. If you're a fan of Fairy Tail, chances are that you like all of them to some degree. It would make sense to find shows that have dynamics similar to the ships we love. Who better than I to make a list like that?

Someone that actually likes the Big Four ships, for a start.

Anyone who's followed me over the years knows I was never going to write that kind of list. Originally, I was only going to deal with shows that handled the dynamics in ways I personally thought better. However, I put it on the back burner for a few months. And a few months became a few years.

Now that I'm actually setting out to try to write this, I've decided that I would make a bit of a compromise. Two recommendations for each ship. Both play with the dynamic in some way. One plays with it in a manner closer to the ship it's compared to and is what I would recommend to true fans of the ship. The other is a much looser parallel and does things I'd imagine people who didn't like the ship would like. Hopefully, you'll find some show that you like regardless of your feelings about the ships.

Nalu (Positive Recommendation): Twin Star Exorcists

This wasn't as tough a decision for me to make as one might expect given my history with the ship. When Rokuro and Benio have something of a chance encounter, they don't get off on the right foot. However, they realize they have more in common with each other than they'd like to admit. They go from outright hating each other to loving each other throughout 50 episodes. Of course, it helps that the fate of the world is dependent on them getting married and having a kid together. When I think of the best things about Nalu, I think about the relationship between Rokuro and Benio.

Nalu (Negative Recommendation): Snow White with the Red Hair

Shirayuki, the character the title describes, is an herbalist. The show focuses on her journey to becoming recognized as a court herbalist and her growing romantic relationship with Prince Zen Wisteria. As the show progresses, they each end up encouraging each other towards reaching their own ambitions. I could see the argument made that this is a better parallel for Nalu than the show I recommended. But, as someone who's made a name ragging on the ship, I think I'm in a good position to make this call.

Gruvia (Positive Recommendation): Momokuri

The heck is a Clannad? The show starts with a confession of love and a couple starting to date. That would be the end of most romances, but the fun only starts there. It turns out that the guy is not entirely confident with himself and is not sure how to properly handle a relationship with a girl older than him. The girl, on the other hand, has been borderline stalking him before their relationship started and still struggles to stop following him. I hope it doesn't come off as an insult to say that I kept thinking about Gruvia watching this show. This is one of the fluffier shows I've seen.

Gruvia (Negative Recommendation): Golden Time

Stop me if this sounds familiar. There's a girl who's been really in love with a guy for years, to the point some would call it unhealthy or obsessive. Unfortunately, the guy's not into her and all but shatters her heart with the declaration that he's found someone else he likes and can only see them as friends. But in swoops someone else who has been watching everything go down and sympathizes with her. How will their romance go? On a completely unrelated note, it's weird to see Golden Time and think that this was both written and animated during Fairy Tail's serialization. Almost as if writing Toradora gave the author psychic powers.

Jerza (Positive Recommendation): Romeo x Juliet

If you're going into this with the expectation of a straight adaptation of William Shakespeare's famous play about star-crossed lovers, you will be disappointed. However, Studio Gonzo took the story and turned it into an interesting fantasy and romance series. This show gets my nod on account of playing up both the romance and inter-family conflict of the original play. Jerza represents people on opposite sides of a conflict trying their best to work together against an enemy they're slowly but surely realizing they share. Be forewarned, though. This is still an adaptation of Romeo x Juliet.

Jerza (Negative Recommendation): Our love has always been 10 cm. apart

Hear me out on this one. Jellal and Erza's relationship involves a desire ultimately to be together despite the things pulling them away from each other, namely themselves. But... does it need to involve the whole "I can't accept that I may or may not be responsible for deaths and human atrocities" plotline running through Jerza? The characters in this show have a similar internal struggle, as the title describes. They just happen to be students in different clubs struggling with how they'll handle their passions before and after graduation, along with their potential romance. Before you watch this, it might be a good idea to be introduced to the characters via the movie “I've always liked you”.

Gajevy (Positive Recommendation): Ookami-san and her Seven Companions

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away- wait, wrong story. Ookami is known as one of the more intimidating people in their school and is the main muscle of one of the school's influential clubs, Otogi Bank. The club's newest member is on the frailer side but proves himself to be both competent and reliable in a pinch. He's been in love with her since the start of the show, but she's pretty slow to accept her own feelings for him.  This one may be a fun pick for people who liked seeing how Gajevy played out. Especially given, that the ship roles are somewhat gender-swapped.

Gajevy (Negative Recommendation): Chivalry of a Failed Knight

Part of me says that I could have put any romances involving a tsundere in this spot. After all, Gajevy's about falling in love despite bad first impressions. Though, my reason for picking this story deals with a rather interesting complaint about the ship: Levy's descent into the background as the series continues. In this story, the characters get together and prove themselves to be competent fighters. Of course, this means more for Ikki Kurogane, the main character, starting from the bottom to become the strongest fighter the school has. However, you never forget that Stella Vermillion is also strong in her own right. Though I'd caution against this if you're not a fan of fan service.

Bonus: Tsuredure Children

As a fun bonus recommendation, I'm throwing in Tsuredure Children. I often worry that fans here care more about the romances in the series than anything else happening. Tsuredure Children provides a fun solution to this problem: make it about nothing but romances. This anime follows a handful of romances at a high school, following different personalities, tropes, and levels of success. There are probably some parallels to these ships, but that's what the other recommendations were for.

And that's all I've got. See you!

What are you still doing on this post?

You saw the title. I did everything I said I was going to do. I even threw in another recommendation. There was no other reason to continue this except for satisfying your own curiosity.

How much more are you expecting of me? I'm only human.

Well, since you're here, it won't hurt to reward your curiosity. Here are two more recommendations, for Zervis. Thankfully, neither deal with the whole “Is this pedophilia?” thing because I never want to talk about that again.

Zervis (Positive Recommendation): Real Girl

If you've seen my end of year favorites, you'll know that I've enjoyed this show. If you'll ignore the laughter of those who've seen this show, I chose this for one important reason. This show plays with the idea of having someone who sees value in you that others don't can be life-changing in a positive way. I have to assume that, were Zeref and Mavis allowed to be happy, that would be the end goal of their relationship. By the way, their relationship comes as a shock to those watching it go down.

Zervis (Negative Recommendation): Hyouka

This shows also takes the idea of a life-changing relationship but plays with the guy's special talents to both solve and create problems for the series. I don't know how much of this pick is a "recommendation for people who don't like how Zervis played out" and a “I can’t think of another series I’ve seen to fit what this ship could have been if it didn’t involve people who could kill each other” pick.

But for real this time, see you! 

[dowoonie-namjoonie]

All You Need is Confidence

Part 2 

A/N: I don’t own any gifs I use, this is just for fun. I’ll probably make this a serious just because it’s fun to write. Enjoy! I’m so sorry it sucks, I have writers block so bad! It’s going fast too because, honestly, I just wanna get to the good parts. 

Warnings: Minor language, suggestive themes, student teacher relationships, and poly relationships. Also Boy x boy stuff too! 

Your mind went blank, there was no thought in the world passing through you as you kissed Mr. Park Jaehyung, your damned English teacher. Time stopped-or it seemed to stop-everything was just focused on you two and how your lips moved flawlessly against each other. Softly, Mr. Park's hand slide down from your cheek, firmly holding your shoulder. You almost forgot someone else was sitting in the room with the both of you. 

"Ahem," Mr. Kim cleared his throat. 

Instantly, you jumped away from Mr. Park, your chair moving back with a loud screeching noise echoing in the room. Was it always this quiet? Everything that happened just hit you, the fact you had a panic attack in the middle of class and let without permission, or maybe that your teacher kissed you and you kissed him back, better yet another teacher was in the same room as the both of you! 

Your head hung low with shame, you couldn't fathom kissing your teacher was a good thing. Although, at the moment it never felt better to kiss Mr. Park's perfect lips, still, it was illegal and your dumbass craved more. 

"Y/N?" You flinched a bit upon hearing Mr. Park speak up, his honey voice making you shake to your core. "I'm sorry-"

Before he could apologize, you stood up, abruptly, scaring both teachers into thinking you felt violated. That's the last thing they wanted for you, to feel harassed by the sudden emotions of a teacher. 

"Do-Don't," you stuttered out. 

There was nothing else to say, neither Mr. Kim nor Mr. Park didn't have the heart to say anything to you. Mr. Park didn't want you to be freaked out, really, he wanted to tell you he loved and cared for you. But, he decided you didn't need to know that for now, it still seemed you were conflicted by that kiss just now. Or the fact you could get reported by Mr. Kim due to him witnessing this whole event. 

"I think...," you started, nearly choking on your words. "I think I need to go home?" 

It came out more as a question less than a statement, both teachers just nodded in response instead of saying anything at all. Which, you had to admit, any other word or action would flip your lid. 

"Alright...," Mr. Kim trailed on, deciding to talk before Mr. Park could. "I'll tell the office I sent you home since you...um...threw up in my class? That's okay right?"

If you weren't so flipped the fuck out, you would've cooed at Mr. Kim's "that's okay right?" 

"That's fine...I guess...I'm gonna go." 

Without another word, without a goodbye, without anything at all, you picked up your stray bag slinging it over your shoulder. Hastily running out the door with a million thoughts running through your mind. Mr. Park kissed you like full-fledged kissed you and the worst part about a good-looking, funny, TEACHER kissing you was that you liked it. The kiss lingered on your lips, the feeling of his plump lips echoing begging for more, it was like a shot of serotonin. You tried rubbing the kiss off your lips, shaking the feeling almost as you walked to your car. 

Long story short you kissed a teacher on a Monday, but now it's Thursday and you haven't been to school yet. Of course, you didn't tell a single soul about the events that happened. You also didn't know if Mr. Kim reported either of you to the principal, considering the school didn't call your mom or anything you just assumed Mr. Kim never told either. You managed to get your mom to call you out of school for two days, to your mother two days were more than enough. The only option you had was to go to school and skip Mr. Park's class and let's just mention this you weren't disgusted Mr. Park kissed you, but the fact you don't know how to act around him now. 

Anyway, as your mom was pushing you out of the house to get ready to head to school, Mr. Kim was having a very heated conversation with Mr. Park. 

"What the hell were you thinking," Mr. Kim's voice was a whisper disguised as a scream. '

Early this morning he came into Mr. Park's classroom when they both didn't have class, pacing back and forth around the room. So many emotions ran through Mr. Kim's head, he couldn't quite place a finger on what exact emotion he was feeling. Wonpil had feelings for you, seeing you kiss Mr. Park-his best friend-made him upset for an odd reason. Upset that you didn't kiss him first but rather kissed Mr. Park, but the fact that he wasn't mad about the kiss itself made him wonder. In the moment, he was oddly entranced by the way both of your lips met, keeping a close eye on your both. Even weirder he fantasized himself kissing you...and Jae. This all... was new for Wonpil, yes he always knew he had feelings for you. But Jae, that was different. Jae and he were always close so he thought the feelings he had were just the closeness they shared, as of recently Wonpil's starting to rethink their "friendship." 

"I didn't mean to," Jae spoke up. 

Mr. Park sat at his desk, rubbing his temples lightly trying to figure out the mess he just made. Teachers are usually updated on the students not coming to school, so when they didn't see your name on the absentee list a conversation sparked up between them. 

"It all just happened so fast-You don't understand-"

"Hyung, I do understand!" 

Mr. Park's argument was obviously weak, they both knew it all too well. Wonpil swallowed harshly, looking at his friend in a conflicting matter. 

"What," Jae grew frustrated as it neared his first class, all he wanted was this controversy to be over. "Pil do you want me to say sorry! Do you want me to regret kissing her because I don't!" 

Wonpil and Jae fought in the past, typically in their high school years, but Jae has never raised his voice like he was doing now. It was only natural that Wonpil was taken aback, new things and emotions seemed to be coming to life. 

"I like her," Jae firmly said, trying not to sound stern but still getting his point across. 

"Hyung," Wonpil started, but Jae raised a hand before he could finish stopping him further. 

"Pil, I know this might ruin our...I know you like her too. Right?" 

Wonpil only nodded shyly, he knew it wasn't his turn to talk. Jae had more to say about the topic of liking her. 

"Maybe there's a way she can pick one of us-or none of us." 

"Jae," Wonpil tried, feeling himself grow uncomfortable, but failed due to Jae's upcoming rant. 

"Or maybe there's no hope for either of us because it's illegal-" 

"Jae," Wonpil spoke again, but still not getting through to him. 

"But what if she chooses one of us, what happens to the other!" 

"Jae! Let me talk to just a second," Wonpil whined, but successfully shutting Jae up. 

"Jae," Wonpil started, blushing softly not making any eye contact. "Have you ever had multiple relations, at the same time..." 

"What do you mean," Jae asked, slightly confused at the sudden question. You know, after they just got done screaming at each other for liking the same girl. 

"I mean," Wonpil started, leaning onto a nearby desk being a blushing mess. The thought he was having wasn't exactly the most "normal" thought he's had. "Have you ever dated two people at the same time?" 

"Wonpil, I don't cheat on people I would think you'd know that-" 

"Jae," Wonpil moaned out of frustration. Usually, he was the naive one, but currently, Jae is making it hard not to throw something at his head. "Like three people dating, each other, at the same time."

"Pil," Jae's eyes opened wide, the first-period bell ringing at the same time. "Are you saying you want to be in a relationship with Y/N and...me?" 

Students flowed into Mr. Park's room, some muttering hi's to both teachers as they just stood in the middle of the room. A look of disbelief was plastered over Jae's face, Wonpil was still in shock that he even insinuated that he wanted a poly relationship with his best friend and a student! Wonpil doesn't even know what he wants, but yet he suggested an idea that made his heart flutter just thinking about all three of them in a relationship. It was a schoolgirl thing to do. Jae, on the other hand, was still processing what Mr. Kim had said. Did Wonpil just indirectly confess to him? His best friend wants to date him and Y/N, why is this so hard to fathom? Wonpil has always had different ideas, but this is a conflicting idea. 

Unfortunately for Mr. Park, class was starting and he needed to focus on Shakespeare rather than the fact his friend has a crush on him. That's just what he did, taught the real meaning of Macbeth with the lingering thought of a poly relation stuck in his brain. 

Mr. Kim walked to his class, the second period of the day, quickly he put a happy-to-be-here face on instead of the dear-god-what-did-I-do face then walked into class like nothing happened. All of his students were sitting down, talking amongst each other as they were waiting for Mr. Kim to start teaching. 

"Good morning class," Wonpils soft voice spoke up. 

He walked over to his desk, picking up an attendance binder getting prepared to check who's there. One by one, he called out the student's name, all of them replying with a monotone here. When he got to your name, his breath hitched, he tried to play it off so the class wouldn't realize it. Looking around the room he saw you, writing in a notebook, with your head down. Nonetheless, you said here just so he would continue class. 

After that, the class went by like a breeze for Mr. Kim. The impending doom of talking to Mr. Park gushed through him, but the whole period Mr. Kim thought of one thing. You. Just in that moment, he saw how depraved and gloomy you were. The bell rang, students got up with their friends walking out of class without a care in the world. Mr. Kim took this as an opportunity to talk to you, just to make sure you were okay since you've been gone. 

"Miss L/N, may I see you for a minute," his voice sounded so small, but yet it hit you like a brick. 

You mentally sighed to yourself, this is what you've been dreading for the last two days. Yet, you knew it had to happen at some point, this needs to be addressed whether it was ideal or not. 

"Mr. Kim," you smiled, with a hint of falseness. "What can I do for you?" 

"Y/N," he softly spoke, watching the last kid walk out of the classroom. Swiftly, Wonpil shut the door so your conversation would be at the least bit private. "How are you doing with...everything?" 

"I'm fine," you lied, and certainly it didn't fool Mr. Kim. 

"Look, we need to talk-"

"Mr. Kim," you interrupted, internally freaking out. "I-I don't wanna get expelled or get Mr. Park fired, so please, I'm begging you don't tell anyone." 

Mr. Kim leaned back on his desk, arms crossing in the process. Only one thing came out of his mouth, one simple question. 

"Do you regret it?"

At first, you were taken aback at the sudden question. Was this some sort of test Mr. Kim was doing, if you said yes would he report you? But this is Mr. Kim we're talking about, as you got to know him you realized there truly isn't a bad bone in his body. He couldn't hurt a fly even if he wanted to. 

You answered back, hoping he wouldn't get you expelled. "No, I don't think so." 

Wonpil's jaw clenched, a bit of anger bubbling through him, he could see your whimsical expression as you were reminded of the kiss. It's written all over your face, you liked Mr. Park. You took into notice at the sudden shift in the aura, Mr. Kim was tapping his foot aggressively. 

"Mr. Kim, I'm sorry! Nothings going to happen, nothing at all! So please don't-" 

"Damnit Y/N!" Mr. Kim yelled, instantly shutting you up, he was frazzled and he couldn't seem to handle it. 

Handle these emotions he has, the love, the joy, the anger, the jealously...This was not something he's ever experienced in his adult life, and he's feeling stupid for it. 

"You like Mr. Park," he said, more in a statement way. He rubbed his head, carefully picking out his next move. Suddenly he was reminded of the conversation with Jae earlier, an idea lit up in his head. "What about me?" 

"Huh," you muttered out, wide-eyed at the unexpected question.

"Y/N," Mr. Kim flashed his puppy eyes, unconsciously. "Do you like me...like you like Mr. Park?" 

His eyes almost pleaded for a yes to come out of your mouth. For some reason, your mouth went dry. What exactly was happening? 

"Mr. Kim," you started, but Mr. Kim already had you by the waist. Pulling you into his chest with a gentle tug, his hand gripped you softly around your tiny waist. He looked down at you, with passion in his eyes, anticipating that you answer. 

"I like you, even though it's...wrong...I like you Y/N." 

As you gazed into Wonpil's eyes, trying to make up the confession he just gave. Mr. Park had come to Mr. Kim's room to finish their conversation from earlier, only to be met with him holding you, confessing to you, leaning into you, kissing you...That was the moment Jae got it, he understood why Wonpil mentioned a poly relationship.