#stranger things historical accuracy

[faithfulcat111]

Lenora is EASY by comparison.

SurferBoy van has an 805 area code

And therefore, should be in the highlighted region

HOWEVER, as a Native Californian I think based on the look of Lenora it's much more likely to be in San Bernardino or Inyo but I can suspend my disbelief and say inland Ventura.

Perfect, like seeing that my own research lines up 👌 I tend to go with Ventura area myself.

[ent-is-indecisive]

id : a warm toned digital painting of robin and Max in front of a hilly landscape. Robin is riding a grey spotted horse facing right. She is wearing the top of a plate armour with the knees and calf protections. Her armour is decorated with sun imagery and golden filigree. Max is walking beside her, talking and gesturing, wearing a dark gambeson, a light shirt tied around her upper arms with laces ending in charms. She has on spiked leather forearm protections, similar protections on her thighs, and a yellow embroidered historical pocket. her double bladed awe is hanging down her back from her shoulder. They are traveling on a dirt path, fields and hills continuing behind them until they reach a pale blue cloudy sky. /end id

Drawing done for the reverse big bang which means the lovely @skepsiss wrote a fantastic story AND a poem which is so far beyond my skillset i can only applaud. Have fun reading Survival of the Sister!

[eightate88]

I absolutely love stranger things ships where one or both of the characters are tranemasc in the fics, it makes my little trans heart soar but I need you guys to know

binders, the binders you're thinking of, did not exist in the 80s. not the design or the material youre thinking, people were binding in any way they could for thousands of years, trans or not but not with binders. the design that you see around here nowadays are only 15 maybe 14 years old and weren't widely available in stores like walmart or target untill like 2017, you could get them online almost exclusively or if you were lucky a specialize shop that would sell you one at very expensive prices. you couldn't BUY a binder when I was a young teen, not anywhere physically, these boys couldn't go out and buy one in the 80s.

in the 80s you wore ace bandages, made your own thing, (usually out of a girdle or something like that), or sports tape if you were more educated in things like that (some instances any tape, even duct tape) and all of them were unsafe in one way or another, you wore these things and there would always be pain in some way eventually. they also weren't rlly called binders.

if you're into historical accuracy put these dudes in PAIN, which in my opinion makes for a much more interesting storytelling. the angst surrounding their health alone.

[strngr-thngs]

One of my favourite plot errors in stranger things is that Steve Harrington smokes but it’s only mentioned once.

He smokes at his “house party” he throws in the first season and then it’s never mentioned it again all because the show received backlash after season two ended up having so many more scenes with smoking in them than that first. And that it was apparently influencing younger people to start smoking and was tempting ex-smokers to start again. So they canned that aspect of his character because he plays a teenager in the show.

[robinsbanduniform]

i am so sick and tired of the narrative that queer people don’t get happy endings, i’m sick of queer stories in media always ending tragedy and unrequited love, and i’m sick of the belief that we shouldn’t expect to be accepted because ‘that’s just how society is’ being considered a normal thing.

[cosmic-nonconstant]

There are people in their 20s writing the most brilliant, beautiful, heartwrenching contributions to Stranger Things fandom and every time y’all write “VHS player” my brain short circuits

[marvelslut16]

A pet peeve of mine is when people write things and they aren't time period accurate. Which ranges from giving characters cell phones before they existed, or cell phones with certain capabilities described in the book/fic/story that didnt exist yet; saying DVD's instead of VHS's; CD's instead of Vinyl's or cassettes; referencing movies and songs and books that aren't out yet; and most of all to making queer couples publicly out in a time period where they would be hate crimed (and possibly killed) for people even thinking they were queer.

Which is partly why it takes me twelve years to write anything, cause I focus so hard on the small details.

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

Some more AUs I've been loving. I'm trying to alternate between AU and canon verse rec lists so bear with me. Remember that if you like a fic you should definitely let the author know as such.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.

theogony by @clare-with-no-i

The trip that Lily Evans expects to go on is the annual pre-dissertation jaunt to Athens with the rest of her Classical Civilizations PhD program. The trip she does not expect to go on is to 479 BCE, right on the cusp of one of the most important battles in the Greco-Persian war. Now, she has to navigate antiquity as she tries to find her way back to the 21st Century, God—or gods—help her.

James wants to win this war. No, James needs to win this war. He is a man of honor and duty, and even if it means dying a gruesome, bloody death, he will go down in history as one of Athens's great warriors. He will suffer no distractions; not even beautiful ones who speak strangely and refuse to listen to his orders.

 -- OR: The Outlander-Meets-Ancient-Greece Jily AU that no one asked for Maya dreams of.

I can't believe it took me this long to read this fic but OH MY GOD!! Clare's writing is phenomenal, I've known this for a while now, but THE DEDICATION TO HISTORICAL ACCURACY, I'm so impressed. If only I could put even half that amount of effort into my major essays for school. EVERYONE GO READ THIS NOW

Sweathearts' Special by @tinyluminaryzombie

What happens when your coffee shop nemesis, asks you to pretend to be a couple?

Or "I’ve been staring at the stupid cupcakes for the past hour, and they look way too good. Anyways, would you be willing to join forces and pretend to be together for the free cupcake and coffee?”

Welcome to Pettyville by @women-inthe-sequel

When Lily Evans accidentally sends a text to the wrong number, she isn’t expecting to find the right person behind it. She can’t stop talking to Prongs. The only thing is, Prongs can’t stop talking about the girl in his class. What could go wrong, other than the number?

A love square but it's just the same two idiots

Tall Dark and Glasses by @jamesunderwater

Tall Dark and Glasses (or TDG as he is more affectionately known) is the mysterious, painfully good-looking stranger who has been frequenting Lily's favourite coffee shop for months now. But despite having an embarrassing acronym for him, Lily, a burned-out STEM major, is too comfortable being a wallflower to go up to him herself. Thank god for playing cards, I guess.

coffee shops and copious amounts of sugar by @mystinkysocks

James decides to finally start revising, the coffee shop he attends introduces him to someone new!

As someone who spends an ungodly amount of time studying in public (at cafés and libraries), all I dream of is to one day live out my very own coffee shop AU

Unlicenced by @ohmygodshesinsane

Lily Evans begrudgingly agrees to get in the car with classmate and sometime-foe James Potter and his not-quite-earned P-plates after a particularly rubbish day.

Drop-Off also by @/ ohmygodshesinsane

James Potter takes Lily Evans home, and wants to make something clear.

Disclaimer that they’re Australian in this AU. You guys don't understand how much Lily Evans means to me. I want to give her a hug.

pretty, pretty boy by rosiemary0 (on ao3)

Pretty face, with golden brown eyes and strong cheekbones (one of which is adorned with a smudge of charcoal). Pretty hands—very, very pretty hands, Lily’s thoughts interject—which hold a jar each, one with water and the other paintbrushes.

Or the one where James is an artist and Lily hates socialising.

I'll Manage by @kaymardsa

James and Lily fall in love during the war.

In which Lily runs a refugee camp and James is an ex-sniper

I can't remember if I've recommended this fic already but again I recently re-read it and wanted to share

'Tis the Fucking Season by @thequibblah

Six-year absences. Yearly photograph burnings (figuratively). Low-cut tops. Two nosebleeds. Little red notebooks. The Past, with a capital P. The desire to pour your heart out to strangers (maybe pathologically). The desire to do unspeakably bad things to one James Potter. These are the ingredients that make up Lily Evans's holiday season.

Shelby the cabbie is in for a fucking ride.

I have been searching for this fic for two months and nearly gave up. An absolute classic that everyone should read!!

Two's a Crowd also by @/ thequibblah

Regency AU in which "the only thing Lily Evans can share with the Earl of Devon is a healthy dose of mutual dislike."

In Search of Something More by @kay-elle-cee

In the sunlit garden of her sister’s home, Lord Potter had promised Lily a life of her own design, with minimal expectations—her presence at community events, companionship, and an heir. As the two stumble into the routine of marriage and work to make a life together at Stinchcombe Hall, unsolicited feelings provoke each to start wondering if this is merely a marriage…or if it could be something more.

No, I will not shut up about this fic. Anything that Kelsey writes is bound to be amazing but this one holds a special place in my heart. Note that this is an ongoing fic though. I tend to recommend completed works but this one is too good not to include.

Pinkest Bluestocking of the Ton by @wearingaberetinparis 

Dearest Reader, the ton are abuzz with the latest gossip, and so it is my honour to impart to you the news that the Duke of Peverell has returned to London at last! A year after setting off on his tour of Europe, Lady Peverell's son has returned and rumour has it that his mother is preparing for the most joyous of occasions: a late summer wedding that sees her son wed the next Duchess of Peverell. It is my sincere hope that you have stored a bottle of wine for this most delightful of upcoming events for if ever there were a more determined mama, this writer is Icarus and this society paper has been scorched for flying too close to the sun.

A Jily Regency Romance inspired by Shondaland's "Bridgerton".

Again this is an ongoing fic, but it's too good not to include in this rec list! I haven’t caught up with all the chapters yet but I love the story so far!

A Heart of Coal also by @/ wearingaberetinparis

They say fortune favours the bold, yet Lily Evans was given her death sentence at seventeen. As soon as midnight strikes on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, her heart will turn to coal. Gryffindor knight James Potter, however, is the last to accept such a fate. For while Lily Evans’ curse foretells her death, his foreshadows a life without his unrequited true love at his side.

Fairytale AU in which the love is requited they're just idiots

Three Lemons and a Dragon by @thelighthousestale

Once upon a time, there lived a Prince named James who had to save his father's Kingdom by getting married. One day an older woman gifts him three lemons that will lead him to his true love.

Dillweed in a Fancy Metal Can by @eastwindmlk

When Lily gets dragged to a Renaissance Faire, she reluctantly agreed to go to the jousting event where she is pulled into the show against her will, or is it?

Lily represents me

Queen Foxtail also by @/ eastwindmlk

Once Upon A Time...

There was an arrogant prince who turned down every suitable match and drove his parents to do something drastic. Marry him off to the next merchant that steps through their gates.

across the universe by rcdwings (on ao3)

“So, you’re saying that in these other worlds, James Potter and Lily Evans exist, too?”

She hadn’t expected to hear that, hadn’t even thought about it that way. She was too busy thinking about if in those other worlds, she and her friends could be seventeen and free instead of the war torn teenagers they were. Now that he’d put it that way, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander.

“I would assume so,” she swallowed. “Not sure what we would be like, though.”

A beat, then a soft hum. “Anything,” he smiled at her, “There are countless worlds, right? We could be anything.”

only love can hurt like this by @fireblts 

Lily doesn’t quite know everything, but it feels pretty close.

The main thing she still doesn’t get is soulmates. Love doesn’t seem like something that should be painful. Or rather, love seems like it’s painful enough on its own without any help.

Soulmate AU - whenever your soulmate is hurt or in pain, you can feel it too.

Soulmate AUs are my comfort genre of fics. I haven't been feeling to well lately and rediscovering this fic was a delight

The Librarian of Hogsmeade Village by @ohmygodshesinsane

Lily's work as a librarian in the small village of Hogsmeade has kept her occupied for the past six years, forever keeping the wheels of the town on the track. As the holidays approach, she prepares to settle in with a nice mug of tea and a well-thumbed old book. When a new resident and his son arrive at her weekly story-reading, with cheeky smiles and big hearts, those plans are tossed out the window in favour of chasing love, for once - not escaping it.

Lily living the cozy life of my dreams. I think it's well known by now that I love reading about single parents and well James with his baby boy always puts a smile on my face.

Spitting Image by @charmsandtealeaves

James Potter always knew he wanted to build a family, he just hadn’t found the right person to build it with - yet. Freezing his sperm at Gringotts Sperm Bank was a no-brainer really. He’d have children when he found the right person, and now he had an insurance policy. Then Lily Evans walked into his place of work with her son - the spitting image of him.

linking this art that the talented @constancezin drew inspired by this fic

Every time I see that Ray has updated, reading the new chapter becomes the highlight of my day

The Stag Prince Across The Sea also by @/ charmsandtealeaves

The realm of Hogwarts had lived for decades in a carefully negotiated harmony between the leaders of the four clans. However, when the time came for son to marry daughter, the Slytherin King refused to offer his daughter's hand to any of the other grand houses’ suitors. As the Slytherin King departed the shore, bound for the ship that would allow him to escape across the Green Sea, he cast a curse on the great families.

“Let ye be marked. Marred by tooth, hoof, and claw. May your sons never be fit for any bride!”

Slytherin invoked an ancient magic, which transformed each family's eldest son into creatures under the light of the full moon. The Kings searched far and wide for a cure to no avail while trying to keep secret the wrong that had been done to them. Years passed and with them grew a sense of unrest, a kingdom on the precipice of collapse...

what love is, I think by @potterandevans-blog-blog

It's James Potter's birthday, his nineteenth to be exact. Some people, if they're lucky, find a tattoo on their back on their nineteenth birthday, a tattoo that can help them discover their soulmate. And if the antlers on his back are anything to go by, James might just have a soulmate of his own out there, somewhere.

oil be there for you by @abby10fanfic

Texting/Social Media AU: Lily and James haven't spoken for 2 years. But that's all about to change thanks to Peter and his involvement in an essential oil pyramid scheme. Featuring boss babes, toxin-free lifestyles, binding contracts, and a very oily journey.

[blackhairedjjun]

flowers of every color

a series

pairing: choi yeonjun x gender neutral reader

summary: when your father is assigned as the new head gardener to the royal family, you are also tasked with helping him maintain the castle's many gardens and extensive floral arrangements. by chance you find yourself crossing paths with the "ice-cold" crown prince, choi yeonjun... who turns out to be not as ice-cold as everyone says he is.

genre: royalty au, prince!yeonjun, gardener!reader, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst, the language of flowers, multiple endings (1 good and 1 bad)

featuring: choi soobin, choi beomgyu (the choi line are all distant relatives here)

warnings: see chapters for specific warnings

status: complete!

author's notes:

do not expect historical or botanical accuracy here! the flowers chosen in each chapter are mainly for aesthetics and symbolism, and might not accurately reflect their cultivation or growing seasons. the language of flowers used here is based on western victorian floriography (rather than other countries' systems) since the royalty au here is already heavily based on european aesthetics.

the first half of the story or so will be fluff, while the next will be angst with a bit of hurt/comfort towards the end. after that there will be both a good and a bad ending.

the first chapter was written in one sitting as a "let's get this idea out of the system" kind of thing, so the quality might be a different from later chapters. i may go back and make an edited version of the first chapter if it have the time and energy to do so!

taglist (CLOSED) @seosalad @lilplilplilp @yeonboy @pyuae @hyuneyeon @strawbrinkofdeath @yushiu @mazeinthemoon @banggyu0308 @shytubatu @kyaneosprincess @agustdiv1ne @whippedforbeomgyu @justineasian @skywithf1 @wrongbathroom @choizzn @bangchansbae @huskyhunny @catsyoon @flowerbe0m

masterlist

chapter 1: irises

chapter 2: yellow roses

chapter 3: lilies of the valley

chapter 4: pink roses

chapter 5: sunflowers

chapter 6: red and purple zinnias

chapter 7: striped carnations

chapter 8: sweet peas

chapter 9: purple hyacinths

chapter 10: red roses

good ending: daffodils

bad ending: white lilies

this fic has also been crossposted to ao3 here

disclaimers:

all depictions of real persons in this work are purely fictional and may not accurately reflect how they are in real life.

this work is by me (blackhairedjjun). the only other version of this story that i allow is on ao3 as linked above. DO NOT REPOST.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi mods,

first of all, thank you for the great work you've been doing, thanks to you I've found some amazing fics!

I was wondering if you could recommend a slow burn fic that is on the longer side, at least 20,000 words, non-human, any rating? Something like She did look back, and I love her for that by Waterloo maybe?

Thanks so much in advance, have a wonderful day!

Hello! Here are some longer slow burn non-human fics...

The space between us by MyOwnName123 (T)

This is a love story, written by my own asexual/aromantic ass. Crowley took exactly seven seconds to fall madly in love with Aziraphale, but he knows it's a terrible idea to actually do anything about it so instead he spends thousands of years pining away silently. Besides, what does love even mean? This fic may or may not have gone out of hand in terms of biblical and historical accuracy, also i tried to stay true to canon but it's been a while since i last read Good omens so this is probably more based on head canons and other fanfic. Enjoy!

32 Questions That Lead To Love by ffonippop (E)

”First formulated in 1997, [32] questions to fall in love is a study by psychologist Dr. Arthur Aron which took place at Stony Brook University, New York. The aim? Speeding up the creation of intimacy between two strangers.” The Cosmopolitan Okay, fine. Crowley was 32-Questions-That-Lead-To-Love-ing Aziraphale. Sue him. He had no expectations, all right? Just, an innocent curiosity.

Sunlight or Demise by verovex (T)

Anathema had once said she couldn’t see Adam’s aura, and it should’ve been more of a red flag, but the reality was it had just been so large she couldn’t see it for what it was. For Crowley, it was the same thing with trying to see reciprocation from Aziraphale. * The enormity of love was, by all accounts, indecipherable. Aziraphale had known what love felt like in this world. At least, he thought he understood it. He felt it all around him. He always had. Sometimes, it was stronger in particular places than in others. But, there was something blurred about it all if you looked too close. He’d realized that Heaven never felt like this, yet it’s where you were taught that it should exist. Aziraphale had started to wonder. He couldn’t decide when the thought first came around that perhaps the love he felt had actually been what was sifting between him and Crowley. At some point, it was easier to be humbled by the complacency of what they’d always been showing each other than outright admitting it for what it was. But that wasn't enough anymore.

Heaven's a Distance, Not a Place by Turcote (T)

The Apocalypse has come and gone, and Aziraphale knows it's finally time to tell Crowley how he really feels. Only, finding the perfect time to confess is proving to be more difficult than he anticipated... Or, 5 Times Aziraphale Almost Confessed His Feelings + the 1 Time He Finally Did.

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? by theshoparoundthecorner (G)

“Bit of an odd tradition, if you ask me,” he said, if not to get his mind off the longing that had settled in his chest. Aziraphale shrugged. “I think it’s rather sweet. A kiss for good luck. Seems a nice way to start the year. Very human.” Crowley nodded. “Can’t seem to keep their hands off each other, that lot. Always finding excuses. First it’s mistletoe at Christmas, then it’s luck for the New Year…” “Well there’s no need to be so grouchy about it,” Aziraphale said. “I think it’s lovely.” Crowley’s heart ached a little more as he watched Aziraphale smile up at the glowing numbers on the building above them. Yeah, he thought, lovely. Five times Crowley thought about kissing Aziraphale on New Year's Eve, and one time he did.

Oh, Maker by voluptatiscausa (E)

"The humans are strange and graceful as they explore the garden, explore themselves, explore each other. The trouble is, the humans stare back, which makes him uncomfortable; there’s nothing particularly interesting about him. And, though he rarely admits it to himself, the humans make him lonely; he has no Other to explore." Or: how many times can you take a bath with your best friend before you kiss him?

And the one you mentioned...

She did look back, and I love her for that by Waterloo (M)

1666, LONDON, AFTER THE FIRE Oh fuck, he thinks. Oh fuck, he's in love. (A not-so-nice but entirely accurate account of two immortal beings throughout the millenia, replete with feelings.)

- Mod D

[booksandpaperss]

How Stranger Things (poorly) handles racism as a topic compared other heavy topics it successfully tackles

before we get started, I would to direct you all to some other accounts who have already discussed this that you should check out either before or after reading this post: @wewebaggit @googoogagaeyes @elekinetic and anyone else please feel free to tag yourself or another account that’s discussed this and I’ll happily boost it

Content Warning for in show examples of racism and discussions of racism, as well as mentions of homophobia and the AIDES epidemic

.

. While we're discussing historical accuracy in stranger things and homophobia + ignorance being present even in well meaning characters, I want to point out that if the writers of the show weren't so squeamish about addressing racism in any in depth way, than this type of historical accuracy would be for racism too.

what I mean by this: in this sense, the show is not consistent. It's clear that the writers have done their research on 80s homophobia and how openly prevalent it was, if the AIDES allegory in season 2 and the way homophobia was very clearly present in seasons 1 and 2 (it still is in seasons 3 and 4 but the first 2 seasons showed it in the scope of the entire town), but racism was just as overtly prevalent, and yet the writers have neglected to address it in the same thoughtful and coded way. if the show was just as consistent about racism as it is about homophobia, than the white characters would be at the very least shown as ignorant just like the straight characters are.

and I'm not going to say that it's completely ignored, because that's not true:

-in season 2; mike makes an ignorant comment that implies Lucas should have been Winston because he's black, and Lucas calls him on it. There's also the very racist undertones (that are practically overtones) of Billy's treatment of Lucas. -There is almost nothing in season 3 except for a jokey joke when Nancy says the whole party is her family and the receptionist, who is a black woman, gives Lucas a skeptical look.

-Season 4 is a little better, with the implications (key word: implications, I'll come back to that in a moment) of Lucas's season 4 arc being that he was trying to fit in because he didn't want to be racially targeted and bullied for being a nerd at the same time anymore, that he felt like even more of an outsider compared to the rest of his otherwise all white friend group who, as far as he knows, are all cishet and giving him shit for wanting to lessen how much he's perceived as an outsider because he's automatically seen as even more of a "freak", and his friends just weren't getting it because they were white and ignorant. So the writers aren't blind to race and racism.

However. None of the examples that I've just listed are addressed later in any in depth way; not like the homophobia is. The only one that's even remotely delved into instead of simply being glossed over is Lucas's s4 arc, and even that is still very flitted around and left up to interpretation of the audience.

The writers seem to have a very "hit and run" sort of policy with addressing racism. They clearly know they should, and they at least seem to know that having a black character in an 80s setting with a cast of mostly white characters inherently creates a lot of racial subtext-

-for example, the very loud subtext of Jason (a white boy much older than Lucas) seeing Max (a white girl) in a trance alone with Lucas (a black boy) and immediately assuming the worst + Jason's white friends tackling an 11 year old black girl to the ground: subtext that I'm still not sure if the writers and directors were even aware of bc they never addressed it and their track record isn't great-

-but they hardly do anything about it.

I'm not surprised, considering this show is headed by two white men, but what really gets me is that they all truly could have tried harder. Like I said earlier, it's clear they've done research and put thought into addressing homophobia (it still could've been handled better but that's an entirely different conversation), and it's evident from Max's s4 arc that they also did research on Depression, PTSD, and the impacts on someone of their abusive family member dying. So the lack of care and thought put into addressing racism in the same way is clearly more than ignorance (which would still be bad, when you're writing a show this big in 2023 with topics like this you're actually, shocker, responsible for making sure they're addressed properly, ignorance is a choice at that point), its just fucking lazy. they don't care. And this not caring is inherently harmful on a show this big and frankly, I'm tired of so many viewers and people in this fandom straight up ignoring this fact, just like the show runners.

And I haven't even covered the complete lack of effort put into Patrick's backstory, or the fact that Erica is very much the sassy, mature for her age black girl stereotype (she deserves so much better). Oh, And we can’t forget the copaganda.

I'm glad that season 4 started to explore the dynamic between Lucas and Erica and expand on both their characters, and from the looks of things that will continue in season 5, so the writers have a chance to do their research, actually put effort more effort into the sinclair sibling’s characters, and improve, and I'm hoping they will but as of right now I don't trust them to, and won't unless they prove me wrong.

TDLR; the main issue is that Stranger Things is clearly a show that addresses topics like depression, abuse, homophobia, and racism, but the racism part is neglected compared to the others, just like how Lucas and Erica's characters are handled poorly compared to the white characters,. it's lazy, horribly insensitive, and racist in and of itself. There's a clear bias, and even if it improves in season 5 we still should be talking about it, and more white people (yes white queer people included, we are not exempt from this discussion, if anything we should care just as much about it as when we’re talking about homophobia) in this fandom need to start listening when black and brown people do talk about it instead of just waltzing through and ignoring it for your own peace of mind.

also I should clarify that I myself am white, I made sure I did research before making this post in order to talk about this accurately and consciously, but if I made any mistakes or said something insensitive or used an incorrect term or anything else, feel free to correct me and I will readily fix it

as a final note: please check my rebligs of this for links to more posts that talk abt this issue

[faithfulcat111]

What makes me laugh is that as much as we complain about the Duffers absolutely forgetting Will's birthday in season 4, they kinda screwed themselves over by placing season 4 over Spring Break of '86 at all. Cause the few school calendars I have scrounged up from Indiana (and Kentucky and Illinois cause I had to spread the search a tad) all have Spring Break falling over one of three weeks that year. And the problem is:

- Saturday, March 22nd - Will's Birthday

- Sunday, March 30th - Easter

- Monday, April 7th - Mike's Birthday

So yeah, they really just screwed themselves. They did line up (mostly) correctly for the IHSAA basketball semi-state competitions, so point 1 for the Duffers. This is one bit where the only record I could find was for one semi-state competition for the tier A teams and it had both games on the 22nd, not on the 20th and 21st. (And it was a program for the event being sold on EBay so slightly dubious). And I somehow doubt Hawkins was tier A. Seem more likely to be AA or AAA given their size and streak. Although they then forgot about finals altogether, but, ya know, the town was a bit busy by next Saturday cause those did take place on the 29th, so pass.

[lithiumcreepblog]

Stranger Things’ The Party vs Barbenheimer

Will: can’t wait for both films, hasn’t stopped talking about the 11-mile long Oppenheimer film, or the fact that Barbie caused a pink paint shortage since he read about them

Mike: no clue what the films are about but Will is excited so he is excited by osmosis, will end up going to Barbie in the most Ken looking outfit by accident (much to both Will’s amusement & embarrassment)

El: only watching Barbie because she doesn’t like long or depressing movies, has already planned an extravagant brunch with Max at home before the film (Eggo Waffles: Barbie edition)

Lucas: thinks the rivalry is silly and would rather watch Oppenheimer only but inevitably gets pulled into watching both films by Will (& ends up liking Barbie too)

Dustin: ready to flame Christopher Nolan if he gets even a bit of the historical accuracy wrong, doesn’t really care about Barbie but watching it for Margot Robbie

Max: says she’s only going because El is going but becomes invested in all the marketing stunts for Barbie, ends up bringing pink lemonade for the brunch

Bonus- Erica: has plans to go to Oppenheimer in her pinkest girliest outfit and show up to Barbie in one of Lucas’ old suits, complete with a vest & even a pork pie hat because she commits to the bit

[nonsensicalramblings79]

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and parallels in OFMD

2.7k word meta

If you haven’t read my other post about why I’m talking about albatrosses in the first place, read the first part of this and come back! All of this will make the most sense if you read all of the parts I’ve written – I’ve split them up for ease of reading, because holy shit this is long.

TWs: animal death, blood, eating animals, starvation, emotional abuse, physical abuse, gunshot injuries, suicidal ideation, canon-typical mental health problems

MAJOR OFMD SPOILERS THROUGH S2E03

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Let me start out by saying that yes, this is anachronistic – this poem wasn’t written until 1798. I also don’t care: Oluwande is wearing crocs, Stede’s “corpse” is crushed by a piano whose maker won’t exist until 1863, Blackbeard’s got his whole leather-daddy getup, Zheng Yi Sao won’t be born until 1775 – OFMD plays fast and loose with historical accuracy, and I am never going to dismiss an OFMD theory because the timeline doesn’t match up :P

Now that that’s out of the way, a little bit of background information. Long summary incoming.

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is a poem written by English poet Samuel Coleridge. The story is told through the words of the mariner, who has recently survived some horrifying ordeals, soon to be told to a poor unsuspecting stranger who just wants to attend a wedding. As the story goes, the mariner set out with his crew of 200-some-odd men, and everything’s going just peachy until some storms pick up and drive them toward the South Pole. Stranded and lost, the crew fear for their lives, until an albatross appears. At the same time that the albatross appears, the storms clear, the helmsman is able to make their way through the ice of the South Pole, and a southern wind picks up, pushing them back north. The albatross follows the ship, but the mariner believes that it is somehow responsible for the mists and fog that now surround the ship, so he shoots the bird with his crossbow. At that point, the fog and mists actually do clear up (by coincidence or otherwise) – and the crew praise the captain for taking down the bird.

But it’s a fickle crowd – soon the wind stops blowing, and the ship is becalmed; the crew blame the Mariner for killing the bird that had been their good luck. They sit in the middle of the ocean for days or weeks, dying of thirst. They cannot even speak, they’re so thirsty – but they make sure that the Mariner knows that he is to blame for this by tying the albatross’s body around his neck and forcing him to wear it like a grotesque necklace. Eventually, everyone on the ship except the Mariner dies (there’s a bit here about Death and Life-in-Death rolling dice to see who lives and who dies – the important part is that none of the crew survives).

Finally, the Mariner is left alone on his ship of corpses, which strangely do not smell or rot. He wishes he could die, but he doesn’t. During this time, he begins to appreciate what there is left to appreciate – the life around him in the ocean, in the air, “all things both great and small” – and the curse is lifted from him. The albatross detaches from around his neck and sinks into the ocean.

From this point on, the story goes about as you’d expect – the curse being lifted, the wind picks up again, setting the Mariner speeding back home (though, perhaps unexpectedly, his crew gets to come back as zombies for a short while to man the ship until it reaches land again, at which point they die again. RIP). As the ship is coming upon the Mariner’s homeland, it sinks like a rock to the bottom of the ocean – a hermit happens to see the Mariner floating out there and comes to pick him up, thinking he’s dead. When the Mariner opens his eyes, the hermit believes him to be the Devil himself (I mention this only because I think the wording of “Demon? I’m the fuckin’ Devil” lines up perfectly with this).

As penance for shooting the albatross (as if all of this so far wasn’t enough), the Mariner spends the rest of his days wandering the earth, telling his story and making random wedding-goers sad.

HOO BOY, that was a lot. (A whopper, one might say.) Thanks for sticking with me so far.

Now, some of the parallels between this poem and the events of OFMD are more neat and tidy than others are. The biggest parallel, obviously, is the link between the albatross and the “impossible birds” that Ed references in S2E01 – the entire reason I started reading this poem to begin with. The links between the show and the poem are not ones that I think the characters in the show (Ed) are consciously making. I think these allusions more reflect the themes and symbols that the writers and directors want us as the audience to pick up on. Therefore, the “impossible birds” conversation in canon is not talking about albatrosses in the sense that they are commonly referenced in literature, as the proverbial weight around one’s neck that represents guilt – but we can still talk about that symbolism outside of canon.

And talk about it I will.

For those of us who have watched the show, it probably goes without saying that Ed’s got a fair amount of guilt, shame, psychological trauma, etc. that he carries around with him. So if we’re going to invoke the albatross metaphor following S2E3, what specifically can we say is Ed’s “albatross?” There are a few candidates that immediately come to mind. It could be his guilt surrounding a) his father’s murder; b) Lucius’s attempted murder; c) the abusive, toxic relationship that he carried on with Izzy; or maybe even d) himself.

That last one is a little esoteric, so let me explain. Ed hates himself – aside from all the self-destructive tendencies as evidence, he admits it out loud in his dream with Hornigold in S2E03. I wonder if the albatross that is hanging around Blackbeard’s neck is Edward – the real Edward, the one that is more than just his fame, his terrifying persona, his violence-as-a-form-of-love tendencies – the Edward that Stede fell in love with. I wonder whether Ed’s guilt surrounds more than just how he’s hurt others, but how he feels he has killed a truer, better version of himself, and that he can never regain it. In line with The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, killing this “albatross” of a better Edward didn’t just kill him – it killed everyone around him as well. And now, after he has borne the blame of others for having gotten them into this situation, he is forced to wear…himself. The guilt that weighs him down is the knowledge that there is a version of him that was loved, that Stede loved, and in his eyes, he has killed that version of himself.

I want to take a moment to acknowledge a post (or several posts) that I saw several months back in relation to season 1. In these posts [Link1, Link2], smarter people than me drew a connection between a metaphorical albatross and the black cravat that Stede gives to Ed – and that Ed continues to wear until he and Stede change into their privateering academy garb. Something both of those posts touch on is how the cravat represents Stede, and I think that is completely true; however, I posit that the cravat represents the fact that Ed is lovable.

Something that’s been pointed out in the past 48 hours since these episodes dropped is that Ed is not wearing the cravat during the first parts of season 2. Only when he essentially decides to kill himself via storm do we see him once again wearing the cravat (the cravat is also noticeably absent from the purgatory dream sequence).

What exactly this means is still shaky to me – in my mind, Ed does canonically see the cravat as a reminder of his “real” self, and he puts it away and tries to hide it while he’s still…well, functioning is far too strong of a word, but at least not actively suicidal like we see at the end of episode 2. I think hearing Izzy supposedly shoot himself is what pushes Ed over the edge into being actively suicidal; perhaps at this point, some part of Ed is still hoping against hope that he can convince himself not to do it, to wait for Stede. Alternatively, it may be that if he dies here, he wants to take the idea of a “better him” with him.

In the sense of the cravat representing the albatross (meaning the cravat presence is not a choice of the characters, but of costume design), the cravat being missing during the batshit-insane-high-on-rhino-horn Kraken era may represent him not actually feeling the guilt of losing himself during this time. He may have actually convinced himself that a lovable version of himself never existed, and he’s living guilt-free. The guilt comes back when he hears Izzy shoot himself – he’s reminded that he caused this by killing a version of himself that Izzy trusted and even loved, in his own fucked-up way. From then on, the cravat is back on – the guilt is back, and it’s strong enough to induce the kamikaze-type rage we see in the storm.

(Important to note here that while I stand by this interpretation, I’m not sure how it fits with the fact that Ed is wearing the cravat just after the Krakening – the moment when he’s looking back on the island that he just abandoned the Revenge crew on in S1E10.)

I’m leaving this one for myself to come back to later on the off-chance I have some sort of epiphany.

Oh wow, you’re still here?? Probably time for a water break. Go on, the rest will be here when you get back. And there’s unfortunately quite a lot more that still needs to move from my brain to this Word doc.

Ready? Ok.

So that’s one possible interpretation of what Ed’s “albatross” is – I won’t spend time on other possibilities because what I’ve laid out here is the interpretation that I most strongly subscribe to. But all that is only really addressing one part of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Granted, it’s the most important part, symbolically, but there are some other parallels that I want to address that together convince me that the writers of OFMD are actually, specifically referencing this poem.

Obviously, there’s a parallel in that both the happenings of the poem and OFMD occur on actual, physical ships, captained by the man who ends up “shooting the albatross” and being rightfully blamed for it. Both of these ships suffer because of the dead albatross – physically, both ships are taken through devastating storms, and both ships are falling apart. The ship in the poem stops moving indefinitely because of a becalming (all wind and ocean currents stopped); the Revenge stops moving indefinitely because Ed removes the wheel. Both ships suffer casualties – in the poem, everyone dies, and on the Revenge, those crew members may be physically alive, but they are haunted by it. The poem makes note of the fact that the crew died of thirst – while this doesn’t seem to be a main concern on the Revenge, the show does show us, rather graphically, that they were beginning to starve, having to catch and eat raw seagulls to survive (note that dead birds are also a recurring theme in OFMD, leading me to believe even more that albatross references are intentional).

There’s an interesting pattern in the poem concerning dead people – specifically, how they don’t seem to be entirely dead at first. Firstly, the crew that die of thirst drop dead, one by one, on the deck of the Mariner’s ship. However, the poet notes that the bodies did not decompose or smell. Later, these bodies are resurrected by whatever sea spirit chooses to spare the Mariner’s life, using the bodies to man the ship and sail it back to shore. When they are done with this, they drop dead once more, staying on the ship as it sinks to the bottom of the ocean. When the hermit finds the Mariner floating in the ocean, he thinks him dead, before the Mariner’s eyes shoot open (similar to a certain someone at the end of S2E03).

In season 1, I can’t think of any instances wherein someone was presumed to be dead, but actually wasn’t, aside from Stede’s fuckery. However, this theme has come up at least 3 times in season 2 so far: Lucius being the obvious one, then Izzy, and finally Ed himself (and if I’m understanding correctly, Ed was actually, literally, cold-in-the-ground physically dead, not just “presumed dead.” This might be clarified in a future episode). That seems…intentional.

Side note: how long was Ed supposed to have been dead? Days? Didn’t anyone notice that he wasn’t, like, rotting? Especially when “the smell of rot” has been something that very consistently shows up in the show when it’s relevant (see: Lucius’s finger infection, Ed being able to smell Izzy through the walls of the ship).

One more thing: the last thing that the Mariner sees when leaving the shore, and the first thing he sees when he gets back? A lighthouse. Now, could that just be a coincidence, with lighthouses being a very common image in sea-based stories? Sure. But I’m choosing to believe that this poem was chosen (and yes, I say chosen – as in the writers took inspiration from this poem) specifically because it has so much imagery in common with OFMD.

These are admittedly tenuous links between the poem and the show, but they are links, so I’m including them.

The last thing I want to mention about this poem is how its “moral,” if it can be said to have one, is to treat living things with respect – you as a person do not live in a vacuum, and your actions have consequences for others, not just yourself. And I think this sentiment lines up incredibly well with a line that Jim has in S2E02:

…

There was a time when life meant something on this ship. When we lived for each other.

…

According to Jim (and according to literally everything the show has been telling us), the ship was a safe place when the people onboard cared about each other. Fang mentions that Blackbeard didn’t even react when Ivan died; Blackbeard callously shoots his first mate, with the intent of having him killed; he doesn’t even care about his own life and whether he lives or dies. Just like in the poem, this is the issue that needs to be resolved in order for the curse to be lifted – the Mariner (Ed) needs to rekindle an appreciation for life. In the poem, this is a simple “every living thing is special” kind of epiphany – I get the feeling it’s going to be a much more complicated journey in OFMD, especially since the show as a whole is somewhat irreverent concerning the deaths of non-recurring characters. For Ed, I imagine it’s going to be more of an appreciation for his own life – not the value of life on the whole, but the value that his life holds.

So. That’s a lot of words that I just typed – I’m hoping at least some of them made sense. Huge thank you to anyone who made it this far! This is all I’ve got on this particular poem, but I’ve still got more things I want to say about another poem called L’albatros (Charles Baudelaire) and how it relates to Ed and his perception of himself. It’s a huge stretch to say that this poem exists in-universe and Ed has read it, but it makes sense to me and I want to get my thoughts down on (virtual) paper – I’ll link to it in the original introductory post (link to that at the top of this post!).

Let me know what you think!! This silly, stupid pirate show will be consuming my thoughts for at least the next several months, and I’m dying for some reciprocal opinion/info-dumping. Inbox is open!

[maycuryweek]

For Brian's birthday, we are giving him the best: Freddie! ❤️

Welcome to MaycuryWeek2024!

The dates for the event are 2nd-8th September, 2024. In the weeks leading up to it, we will post and reblog things featuring our happy couple.

Where to post:

The main places to post will be here on Tumblr and on AO3! If you use other sites, post the link here on Tumblr and tag us here at [blog] and use the #Maycuryweek2024 tag to make sure we see it!

What we want:

Any fan media celebrating Brian May and Freddie Mercury! Fic, art, phone wallpapers, playlists, anything you like—just as long as it's focused on them!

Anything you'd like to write, draw, create—please make sure it's centered around the relationship Brian May and Freddie Mercury! Polyamoury and platonic fanwork is more than welcome, as long as the primary focus is on Maycury!

Make sure you tag your works appropriately! If it's NSFW, use the correct categories on AO3 and tag it as such here on Tumblr as well! We wanna make sure people know what they're getting into.

Prompts are just to give inspiration! You’re welcome to use all of them or none of them, You may interpret them as loosely or strictly as you’d like. If you have something else you wanna do, do it! Other AUs and situations are welcome and encouraged!

Historical accuracy is not a requirement! That's the joy of events like these. Feel free to have fun with it all!

Please do not post or interact with the NSFW content if you are not 18+. Thank you.

Please don't interact with hateful comments. Delete them as soon as you can.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Feel free to reach out with any questions you may have!! Our inbox is open!

Maycury Week Prompts:

Day 1:

Line: “Try to be straight for one more brunch.”

Song: “Scandal”

AU: Same Luggage, Didn’t Check the Tags

Trope: Right Place, Wrong Time

Day 2:

Line: “Did you really have to be so honest?”

Song: “Love of My Life”

AU: Hallmark Movie

Trope: Stuck in Traffic

Day 3:

Line: “Would you like me to whisper it in your ear?”

Song: “Staying Power”

AU: Married at First Sight

Trope: Playing Scrabble to Talk

Day 4:

Line: “Have you ever wondered if Ben and Jerry made more than ice cream together?”

Song: “Save Me”

AU: Supernatural

Trope: Bringing Out the Silly Side

Day 5:

Line: “After all... I'm just a boy, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love me.”

Song: “It’s Late”

AU: Neighbors

Trope: Meddling Friends/Family

Day 6:

Line: “I can’t keep kissing strangers pretending they’re you.”

Song: “Jealousy”

AU: Soulmate Marks

Trope: Pretending Not to Date

Day 7:

Line: “There’s no place like home.”

Song: “‘39”

AU: Second Chances

Trope: Didn’t Realize It Was You

.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖

art and graphics made by @sunnymeddows

[retrievablememories]

only have eyes 42 | yeri, taeyong (m)

pairings: vampire yeri x fem black reader, vampire taeyong x fem black reader summary: it’s surprisingly easy to be seduced by two benevolent strangers who fill in the empty spaces of your life—especially when you have no clue of their true nature. genre: romance, vampire!au, 1800s!au word count: 4.3k warnings: mentions of traditional gender roles/pressures to get married. blood consumption. kissing. biting. sexual tension. no full smut but suggestive content so MDNI. virgin!reader i guess? taeyong’s kind of a simp. voyeurism/eavesdropping. more creep behavior from taeyong. did i unintentionally write sugar mommy!yeri? well. undercurrents of manipulation/deceit. yeri and taeyong are fake cousins. gonna very tentatively put infidelity here just in case, although yeri and taeyong are both in on everything that’s happening between them and y/n, so… a/n: this is a sequel of sorts to “steal you,” set a few years after the initial events, with a different MC…as the previous one is dead. i unintentionally retconned some things in the original fic while writing this, but whatever!

note that precise historical accuracy wasn't the aim here, since these are only vignettes/scenarios and not a full story (yet?)

there’s a lot of background context that’s not (explicitly) mentioned here, so i'm thinking of writing a larger fic for this? we'll see...this is really just self-indulgent bisexual thoughts lmao 🙃

Days spent running the dress shop with your mother and youngest sister are often hectic and occasionally slow, but rarely are they fun. At least not for you. The kind customers make up for the rude and impatient ones, but there is only so much smiling you can do when your mother’s friends and acquaintances keep stopping in to ask you Have you found a suitor yet? or I can still arrange a meeting for you with my son, if you’d like!

Both your sisters had already found husbands. Your middle sister married at 20, and you hardly see her anymore since she went to live with her husband’s family. The youngest married at 19, but her husband still allows her to keep working at the shop because of how much she enjoys it—and because all money she earns goes directly to him, of course.

With you being 24 and having already rejected more than one proposal from men you hardly knew, everyone has been breathlessly expecting you to follow suit. You try in vain to ignore their expectations. You aren’t sure you’ve ever felt any romantic love for another person before—not the way your sisters or others describe it—and though the mounting pressure vexes you, you are mostly okay with that reality. You can’t miss what you’ve never had.

Until, one day, a particular woman walks into the shop.

You haven’t seen her in the shop before, or anywhere else around the city, and you are certain she would’ve remained in your memory if you had.

Years from now, when you think back to how this inscrutable woman altered your life’s path, you’ll remember this first day so clearly—all because it was raining. It was not the type of bone-soaking downpour you’ve always hated, but a gentler shower.

A man accompanies the woman, carrying a delicate pink and white umbrella above her head as he opens the door for her. When she steps inside, some water droplets roll off the umbrella and onto her pinned-up black hair, making her shiver when they reach her neck and slide into her collar. That small motion makes you smile in amusement before you can stop yourself, and at the same time, you catch her eye. She takes your expression as a welcoming smile and returns the gesture.

With her smooth skin, perfectly curved Cupid’s bow, and captivating eyes, she is remarkably beautiful.

You do not know who the man is, just assuming him to be a servant by the way he is holding her things and attending to her, but you find your eyes also lingering on him, despite yourself. He has a nice side-profile reminiscent of one you’d see in a painting, with a sloping nose, a handsomely formed bone structure, and plump lips. The second thing you notice is that his clothes are of a higher-quality than many of the servants you see daily; maybe he isn’t one at all. You’d gotten so into the habit of making (usually correct) assumptions about the shop’s patrons.

“Good morning. Fine weather today, isn’t it?” you say with a laugh.

The man gives an answering chuckle. “If you like nearly being washed into the gutter, maybe.”

“You’re endlessly dramatic,” the woman comments, raising a gloved hand to check for any more water droplets in her hair. Even her small movements are graceful in a way that comes naturally.

“...So, how may I assist you?” you ask, giving them both your attention while trying to avoid seeming like you’re staring.

“My lovely cousin Yerim here—” The man pinches the woman’s chin, and she sweeps his hand away in shocked annoyance “—is incredibly indecisive and has made me take her to every dressmaker on this side of London, so I do hope you have something here that catches her eye.”

“It’s not been every dressmaker,” Yerim clarifies, rolling her eyes with a small grin. “But your dresses in the window seemed exceptionally pretty, so I was curious.”

“Oh, of course. There are more fabrics like those, if you’ll follow me.”

You and Yerim look over the rows of available fabrics, and you give some recommendations on patterns and colors you think would fit her. She listens diligently as you talk, as if she couldn’t be more interested in anything else. A bit flustered by the attention, you end up keeping your eyes on the fabrics more than on her face.

As you’re explaining a particular material, she grasps the edge of the fabric you’re holding, brushing her lacy-gloved thumb across it until the digit bumps into the side of your hand. She giggles discreetly and only moves her hand away—causing the lace to slide across your skin—after it’s already lingered for what’s considered a little longer than normal.

You struggle not to pause in your speech as your mind stalls on that moment, giving her an apologetic smile when you stammer anyway. You don’t yet understand why you’re reacting like this, but the meaning will become clear to you in due time.

--

“You’re certain Taeyong won’t mind being left behind?”

He’d been accompanying the two of you on your walk through the park, which is scarcely filled with people at this time of day. Everyone else is at work, which you normally would’ve been too. Except for Yerim—who had enough money that your impromptu free day could be easily pulled off, and who’d nearly begged you to come out with her by offering to pay for two days’ worth of your earnings. It was a difficult overture to reject, and your mother had surprisingly few complaints about it. Not when part of the money was also going into her own purse.

Now, it’s just you and Yerim walking along the path together, as Taeyong had become preoccupied with ogling at a family of geese sunbathing in a field. You think it’s a bit eccentric how he always gets lost in excitement over stray animals and pets and the like, but that’s just how he is. You aren’t actually concerned about him being left behind, but more so because he’ll complain to Yerim about her “stealing you away” for the rest of your outing if you let him.

Yerim’s deeply rose-pink lips draw up in a smirk, and she rolls her eyes. “He’ll be quite fine by himself. Believe me, he survived well long before me.”

“You two seem to get along quite well. Most cousins I know have a world of problems between them. Families are so aggravatingly complex.”

Yerim gazes ahead down the path, as if she’s suddenly lost in her thoughts. Sunlight peeks through the lace trimming of herhatand creates shadowy patterns on her face. She often wears one of her pretty hats or even uses an umbrella when she steps out during the day, claiming her skin burns easily. “We both want the same things, so it makes it easier to relate to each other.”

“Well, now that’s intriguing. What similar things do you both want?”

Yerim looks at you, turning her body toward you with the motion, and you feel like you’ve suddenly got the sun bearing down on you in all its fullness. She slips her hat off, as if doing so will help her see better, and grasps the brim of it in her gloved hands.

“Life,” she replies, and though she doesn’t explain further, it feels like the type of answer with a world of meaning behind it.

“Life,” you repeat, and you try not to sound incredulous or mocking. “I would think you’d already experienced any spoils of life you could dream of and then some.”

“There’s always more.” Yerim says it with the subtle intensity of someone who harbors a constant hunger just beneath the surface, a yearning that even you can pick up on. It makes your skin become hot, and you internally chastise yourself because you’re sure she doesn’t intend it how you’re assuming. “Don’t you want more, too?”

“I suppose so,” you answer.

“Do you?” Yerim asks again, like she wants you to expand upon your response.

“The dress shop is fine,” you say, though that doesn’t feel truthful, “but it…would be nice to travel the world.” You speak the first desire that comes to mind, which makes it seem more real now that you’ve acknowledged it aloud.

“Hmm, wouldn’t that be nice? You could do just that.” Yerim comes to a stop in the middle of the pathway, and you do too, looking back at her to see why she’s paused. Yet again, she doesn’t give any hint about how doing just that could be possible in your current circumstances.

She twirls the large, lacy hatin her hand and holds it up in front of both of you, so that if anyone were coming from the other direction—say, another park visitor, or Taeyong—they wouldn’t see your faces. “But, even more importantly, there’s something I want to show you. Close your eyes.”

Her voice is measured and secretive. Her eyes are mischievous. The air thickens between you in the few seconds that you stare at each other within the concealment her hat provides, and it surprises you how quickly you come to the conclusion of what this something must be.

“Here?” you murmur.

Yerim nods, her face betraying no apprehension, only sweet anticipation. “Close your eyes?” she asks again. And so you do, your lips twitching into a small smile before you try to assume a straight face.

While you’re looking at the backs of your eyelids, you hear her heeled boots shuffling in the dirt and feel her presence growing closer. There’s a pause, an exhalation like she’s laughing without sound, then the press of those rose-pink lips upon yours.

This lovely woman who’s always in your shop, with a face you can hardly look away from and an ever-present magnetic aura, has her mouth over your own, her free hand grasping your waist earnestly. Her mouth is gentle and warm, and that familiar rose petal scent envelopes you.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed each other, but it feels like you’ve already done this multiple times before. The nerves you expected to feel are not there—there is only the soft familiarity, the fragrance of her perfume, and the warmth of her hand on your waist.

It’s a short kiss, which you try not to feel disappointed about. Yerim understands your desire and finds it amusing. She offers you a knowing smile, but she won’t give you any more unless you ask for it, and right now, your pride is still too stubborn to allow that. You’re still unsure why this lavishly moneyed woman is wanting to spend so much time with you, or what the mysterious things she says mean, or if there could be something else to all of this. What something else is, though, you have not a clue.

--

It wasn’t your intention to spend the night at Yerim’s home. But after you finish an exhausting day of tending to customers and working on complex sewing projects, she brings you to her house for the first time to have dinner. And you get so caught up in eating and touring every nook and cranny of the place—which really wasn’t as large as you expected it to be—and even playing a game of cards with her and Taeyong, that she insists it’s too late at night for you to go back home. Surely, you could wait until morning for them to return you to your own residence before work?

Before you know it, you are lying next to Yerim in her bed during the dark and early hours of the morning, gazing at the rest of the room through the wispy fabric draped around her canopy bed. You could’ve slept in a guest room of your choosing, but somehow, you’d been talked right into her bed. And it did not take much convincing for you to acquiesce.

“Are you happy?” Yerim asks. She hasn’t bothered to climb under the covers, and neither have you. She lies down with her arms folded across her stomach, knees bent, and toes curling absentmindedly into the comforter. This position makes her nightgown pool around her waist, exposing the length of her legs under the opposing candlelight and moonglow. You try not to stare. You don’t know how she has this much energy at night, as her body has hardly stopped moving since you began getting ready for bed.

“Yes, actually…I had a lovely time this evening, despite the earlier exhaustion.”

Yerim smiles. “I mean in general. Do you fancy working at the dress shop? You told me it was ‘fine,’ but you always seem so…unlively when I come in—in that split second before you notice my presence…”

“What do you get out of being that observant?” you ask, somewhat jokingly.

“It means I know everything.” She says it with some air of seriousness, as if she were truly granted omniscient powers you weren’t aware of. You only blink in response. “Now, why do you look that way?”

“Maybe I am just…stressed.”

Yerim turns onto her stomach and props her head up on her arms, using her pillow as a support, and your own stomach involuntarily tumbles with her gaze fixed on you. “What distresses you?”

Glancing up at the patterned ceiling, you close your eyes for a long moment and let the ensuing darkness surround you. It’s somewhat comforting. “My mother is anticipating that I should find a proper husband soon. We make money from the shop and live fairly comfortably that way, but she insists I must have a man to take care of me, like my sisters.” You sigh deeply as you continue with, “And bear children, of course.”

Yerim laughs like you’ve told a joke she can’t believe, and you are startled, as nothing you’ve said is particularly amusing.

“Shall we find you a proper husband who will support you handsomely, then?” she suggests through a giggle.

Your brows draw together, and you turn your head to look at her and those errant eyes. “Who?” You begin to regret mentioning this at all, wondering if she’ll actually use her social standing to contribute to the effort of marrying you off to some wealthy stranger. Surely, this will not be the culmination of your friendship…

Yerim moves so that she’s on her hands and knees now, and she doesn’t stop shifting until she’s hovering over you. You watch with eyes growing wide as her arms cage you on either side of your body, her legs sliding between yours. “Me. I will be the proper husband who supports you handsomely.”

Finally, a hesitant yet amused grin disrupts the prior confusion on your face. “Really? And who will approve of that?”

“That hardly matters. We’ll need no one’s approval.”

Her hair falls over her shoulders and dangles in front of you, and you part it like a curtain to brush away the shadows obscuring her face. Her visage is half-shadow and half-candlelight, reminiscent of an oil painting. The glitter of her eyes and the glint of her teeth as she smiles are sharp, as if you could be physically cut by these flashes of light, and your chest stirs with something like unease for a moment. You don’t know why.

Your voice is quiet when you say, “You won’t find any opposition from me, then.”

“In that case, close your eyes again.”

“Why? Perhaps I don’t want to lose this view.”

Yerim draws her index finger across your lower lip. “I’ll give you a gift—one like that day in the park.”

Your heart stutters at the thought. “Do what you will,” you murmur, letting your eyelids slip down.

The same hand that was on your mouth takes your chin in a loose grip, and you make a small noise when she lowers her body flush against yours.

Her kiss is no longer soft or brief. Her lips press against yours as if she means to meld every part of your beings together, her tongue slotting itself into your mouth, and you accept the proposition.

You kiss until your lips hurt, though that’s more likely from the way she keeps biting your bottom lip until she draws blood—and then she kisses you even more feverishly as if she’s invigorated from the bloodshed, the primal quality of it. It makes your lip sting, but you realize you like the sensation.

Her body continually shifts against yours during your embrace, and by the time she separates from your mouth to give your neck a wild, messy lick, your underwear has grown damp and your legs knock clumsily into hers. Dizzy with lust you’ve never encountered before, you find you’re unable to do anything but lie prone and let her do what she wishes to you.

Meanwhile, Taeyong stands outside of the door as still as a statue, listening to the now-familiar sound of your blood rushing and your heart pulsing—the unique rhythm of every human’s blood that defines their very existence. No two bodies are ever quite the same. The sweet music of your blood is punctuated by your small murmurs and moans, and he doesn’t need to press his ear to the door to hear clearly, but the absurdly human desire to do so is still there, if only to get closer…

He knows that Yerim must realize he’s out there, listening in like a pervert, and he does not care.

--

You’re sitting at Yerim’s kitchen table sewing a rip in a scarf of yours when you prick your finger on the needle. You drop your materials from the shock of the sudden injury and hold your finger, watching blood bead up on the pad of it as it throbs with pain. Taeyong is away from the kitchen counter and by your side before you even register it, and you are slightly startled by him sliding into the seat next to you.

“What?” you ask.

“Can I see it?”

“Is there any gauze?” you ask, showing him your finger.

Taeyong carefully grasps your wrist with both hands. “For this little wound? It’ll stop bleeding in minutes.” There’s a certain urgency to his movements and his tone that makes you curious. “All it needs is this.”

Taeyong presses his lips to your finger as if to soothe it. You’ve licked your own cuts after the many times you’ve been pricked while sewing, but to have someone else do it, and in such a manner, was…strange. The action enflames your body; it seems oddly more satisfying than it should be to him, as if he gets some kind of bizarre gratification from it. He inhales deeply and doesn’t move his mouth; he just keeps it pressed against the cut until he finally moves your finger away, the sphere of your blood broken and smeared across his lips. He drags his tongue across his lower lip to rid it of the blood smear, and your body twitches; you want to look away. You feel like you’re witnessing something obscene and private you aren’t meant to see.

You don’t say anything as he takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the rest of the blood away from your finger before quickly tucking the cloth back into its place. You wonder if he’ll wash it; it’ll be ruined by your blood otherwise.

Unbeknownst to you, he will take this handkerchief out in the privacy of his room later that night and press his face into it, breathing in the faint scent of your blood and imagining the faded taste of it on his lips.

“Are you well?” he asks.

“...It still hurts. I didn’t think a silly kiss would help,” you answer, and chuckle quietly to try to defuse the nerve-wracking atmosphere of that earlier moment.

“Fine, hold on a minute.”

Taeyong finds gauze in another room and comes back to wrap a small piece of it around your finger, protecting your cut from the outside world. Afterwards, you’re about to slip your hand out of his when his grip tightens, and you pause.

“What’s troubling you?” you ask, already knowing something is amiss from the furrow in his eyebrows and the tension in his body that wasn’t there before.

Taeyong drops his head, pressing his forehead to your wrist, and you think he might sob or collapse for no apparent reason. Alarmed, you’re about to speak again when you realize this isn’t the case; he lifts his head so that you can see him lower his lips to your hand again. He kisses the back of your hand in a way that’s markedly different from his previous touch; this one is more sensual, intentional in its purpose to rouse a response from you. His mouth trails a path down to your uninjured ring finger, and you observe silently as he bites the tip of it softly.

“I’m jealous of you and Yerim…” The confession comes out in a sigh, like it’s a sound his body needs to release rather than a thought-out sentence.

“Jealous…” It’s not a question, as you already had an idea of this in the back of your mind, but you don’t know why he’s chosen now to mention it.

“I’d also like to know just how soft your lips feel, or what they taste like…” Taeyong keeps kissing the tips of your fingers and your knuckles slowly, almost like he’s pretending your hand is your mouth with how engrossed he is in this task. You find this shameless display simultaneously embarrassing and appealing in some deep part of yourself; it’s the way he prostrates himself before you, flays open his hidden desires to you. “I’d like you to touch my body the same way you touch hers…I’d like to make you moan desperately the same way she does, late at night when you believe me to be asleep.”

Your only answer is a rough exhalation. Your dress feels uncomfortably hot; you wonder how he knows of those things. Does he stand outside the door? Listen at the wall? You didn’t realize the walls were that thin around here, and you think maybe you should be more put-off by his unabashed eavesdropping.

“What do you say to that?” he asks, lifting his head to look at you.

“I say it’s rather pathetic,” you answer, meaning it wholeheartedly—and for some reason, the pitiable state of his desire makes it more alluring to you. There’s a thoughtful pause between the two of you. You make no move to reject him when he leans closer, staring at your lips. One of his hands releases yours and touches your throat instead, his fingertips splaying to rest above your pulse.

“Then allow me to make myself appear even more pathetic in your eyes for just a moment.” Taeyong’s so close that his lips almost brush yours when he speaks. Your mouths connect only for a second before the front door opens. That brief touch of his lips to yours is all you receive.

The separation between you widens to its original innocuous breadth as Taeyong sits back in his seat. He is placing your hand back into your lap when Yerim walks into the kitchen a few moments later, and she abruptly stops in the doorway. You think she must be upset because she has somehow figured out what transpired. In actuality, she is cross because of the lingering smell of your blood in the air, which your human senses can’t pick up.

“Yerim…” you say, your throat feeling choked. You two hadn’t spoken seriously about a relationship, especially not with the dilemma of your mother still hunting for a husband for you and the fact that you’d both be shunned, but you realize that kissing your lover’s cousin is probably not the way to go about things.

Yerim walks over to the two of you and greets you as she normally would. “Y/N,” she says calmly, stroking a finger against your cheek; there’s always some part of her body touching yours whenever you meet. The same hand lands tightly on Taeyong’s shoulder afterwards, and the smile she gives him is close-mouthed and unnatural. He looks up at her with a face that isn’t guilty, but more curious and slightly irritated. “You haven’t been hurt badly, have you?” she asks, glancing at the gauze on your finger.

“Oh…no. It was just a pinprick,” you say, tentatively picking your sewing materials up off the table. Yerim’s tension rescinds when she notices the sewing needle, though her gaze towards Taeyong stays suspicious. “I…think I’ll just go and put this away for now.”

The two wait until you leave the room to speak in barely audible tones.

“Remember our arrangement,” Yerim whispers, unable to keep the disgust out of her voice.

“You’re eager to lambast me for bloodshed I didn’t even cause, yet you drew her blood on her first night here. Who exactly has forgotten themselves?”

Yerim’s tone is perfectly matter-of-fact when she responds with, “I have more self-control than you—as all the unsuspecting human women of London you’ve ravaged are well-aware of your lack.” She levels Taeyong with a deadpan look. “She wasn’t in any danger with me that night.”

“You’re fond of drawing this dance out beyond reason, and then you have the audacity to be surprised when one’s patience wears thin.”

“Then maybe I’ll return to finding prey on my own if you’re so worn thin. Do recall that you’re the one who asked me to help you sweep up all your mess from the beginning, so I’d speak more carefully if I were in your place.”

“Just unbelievable,” Taeyong mutters as Yerim brushes past him without a second glance. His fingers twitch over the pocket where the blood-smeared handkerchief rests, but he dismisses the urge to pull it out now.

Self-control, he thinks. You have no monopoly on self-control.