#them fuckers are my number 1 comfort books to listen to and it would be cool to have a new one

[senselessalchemist]

apparently I preordered an audiobook when I had a free one from audible (yes I know but if they want to give me a poor person an audiobook I am too weak to resist, also it's how I get my stormlight archive fix every few years) and I don't know what it is and I am also afraid to check because I am a very weird coward with issues about notifications

[solomonish]

Naamah’s “Match-Up” That I Made Needlessly Complicated!

IT TOOK ME A WHILE BUT I DID GO CRAZY AND STUPID

hewwo @baalism I made u......less of a match up and more just headcanons on how u date the people. i hope u like it <3 I divided them into tiers depending on how well I think they mesh w you too!! so here you go!

TOP TIER (NOT kissing up 2 u!)

SATAN

I think Satan is your #1 man because the two of you just seem to be.....kindred spirits. (I am calling you the same as Satan but like as a compliment?) Y’all got that academia vibe to you with your books and your museum dates and your air of mystery. You two are the hot nerd squad is what i’m saying

Plus Satan is a social butterfly! He’d not only like the quieter moments w you but also when you went dancing he could either be living it up with you or making new connections (although. if he was going to the club why would he stray from the main attraction? make it make sense)

And with him that trust would be super easy to get bc if you’re dating him, HOO BOY. He’s got some Issues but he trusts you to help him get through them! There is a lot of him that feels prickly and dangerous and if you don’t shy away from that and can help him through it then you have his heart! As long as you aren’t ripping his attention away from a thrilling chapter, he’s a great conversation partner too. His quiet nature at first is NOT shyness, it allows him to be observant!! You are one of the few who get the chatty inside ^u^

Plus he loves ur cat and will be on her side when she screws with your puzzles.

SOLOMON

THE ONLY REASON he is not number one is he’s a bit too much of a wallflower to be into the partying like Satan would be. Otherwise....hot nerd squad two electric boogaloo

Is a bit more down with the witchy outdoorsy stuff and the occult and the abandoned place exploration thing than Satan would be. I bet one of his favorite things to do is take u to an abandoned building and after being there for a while when you start to get bored, he enchants it to look like the inside of some old castle and you dance together or something :) memories for u

isn’t always super chatty but is great for listening to you rant. he makes up for his lack of chattiness by asking the perfect questions to get you fired up again, so your ranting takes up most of the time. loves to pick ur brain, so you can talk about anything. he’s like: i want to dissect that smart lil organ of yours. lovingly <3

keep your sudoku puzzles up or he will mistake your books for his and do them for you. the image of him sitting cross legged at an armchair like some grandpa is nice but those are your puzzles!!!! but he’s very good at being domestic, just make sure to ALWAYS cook or bake with him!

LUCIFER

Listen, I hc Lucifer as like kind of a wallflower, but even if i’m wrong, he’ll still not be partying with you a lot because he’s busy! of course doesn’t stop you from going out if you want just be safe pls he lovs u

will take a walk with you every day all the time. After dinner before he goes back to work, he’ll take a little stroll with you. when he has time he’ll go for longer ones and show you some off-beat or decrepit devildom areas but he will absolutely just go on little walks with you every day to catch up with you!!

lives for the domestic moments. you bring him coffee? he is glad to be yours! walks in on you doing laundry? how luck he is to have someone so capable <3 he’ll help you fold the rest of the load or will make sure to talk with you while it’s his turn to make dinner (but will make sure you don’t have to help! you deserve a break)

finds your interest in the arcane kinda funny because he IS the arcane but supports you <3 will listen to you list off what you know even if he also knows because he likes hearing what you’ve learned and you get so excited about it! he will return with his own spells and potions you might not know yet and you two could go on for hours about it.

HIGH-MID TIER

ASMODEUS

His interests align with your! Fashion, beauty, partying!! He loves it. LIVES for it. you two are an unstoppable force.

However....the academic/witchy stuff doesn’t suit him as well as the other stuff does? He’ll whine about you “being a satan” or “being a solomon” if you tread too far in one direction

he’ll work out with you though and buy you cute workout gear <3

a relationship with him is less emphasizing trust and more about intimacy (but you can still trust him yknow?) he makes your connection known by demonstrating it plainly rather than feeling like a safehouse, if that make sense? but he does love u to pieces!! remember that

BEELZEBUB

he wants to eat ur cupcakes this is my main reasoning and also NOT a dirty joke

if he goes partying w you he acts more as a personal bouncer and will circle the crowd like a shark for u <3 also great to bring you home if you’re drunk

he likes taking walks and hiking and being active with you! he does have to slow down so he doesn’t overexert your human body but he doesn’t mind because he’s having fun!

v sweet with the domestic stuff, just not great at cleaning. he just leaves crumbs over the floor he just cleaned :/ thinks u look cute in an apron tho

DIAVOLO

AHHHHH he thinks ur so interesting! so well rounded :0

also it’s good that you’re into witchy stuff! that made your transition to the devildom a bit easier huh?

absolutely loves how eager you are to learn because that’s what you need for the program to succeed! and you already know so much.....you would make.....a very knowledgeable..ruler....of the Devildom.....ahem.....

the above are used to physical affection but could back it up with some mistakes but Diavolo doesn’t get the chance to give affection so whatever ur comfortable with getting he will channel it all in to that!! gifts or words or whatever!!!

but if u give him a lil smooch he will be !!!!!!!! it just feels nice

AN ANOMALY

BARBATOS

I don’t understand this fucker (affectionate). IDK if I can’t place him bc I don’t know him that well or just because he refuses to be categorized but! he is here. perfectly in the middle. taunting me.

idk ur academic prowess is preferable because he wants someone who can keep up with him. and ur interest in spooky stuff works well bc he’s a demon and if he were a human he’d like the occult too.

can’t really go clubbing or take you very many places bc of work :/ he can do strolls around the garden though! or walk you home from places :)

good with the not initiating physical touch because he can shapeshift into whatever you need him to be. an anomaly indeed.

LOW-MID TIER

SIMEON

he respects you :)

finds your academic pursuits inspring! your interest in the occult is a bit off-putting at first but you all are in hell so who is he to blame?

loves to collect your witchy stuff with you <3 knows a lot about safe to eat fruits so he’ll be collecting things for a fresh strawberry pie while you collect what you need to summon lucifer without a pact even though he lives in ur house and you HAVE a pact. 

you can bake the pie together though <3

BELPHEGOR

he does not respect you :)

finds your occult pursuits inspiring! your interest in excelling in academics is a bit off-putting at first - why would you choose to put more work in when you can jsut vibe and pass bc you’re an exchange student?

(ok i’m done making this the inverse of the above lol)

not the most chatty or the most workout-y or patying-y or anything BUT he can be a little domestic. you do the cleaning and he can cook once in a while! and he’ll make the bed! and then he’ll sleep in it immediately. but he’ll be wishing you were cuddling with him the whole time <3

LOW TIER

MAMMON

he’s got the energy but not the respect

unlike the way belphie disrespects you, mammon does it just bc you’re incompatible :/ but like in the nicest way possible

he interrupts when he’s chatty and he’s not the type to hang out with nerds and like. he’s too scared to get into the occult and abandoned buildings.

he does love you to bits! just....not in the way you want. sorry mams :/

LEVIATHAN

he can get chatty for sure!!

but he just does not have the energy to match your academic pursuits or your outdoorsy interests or clubbing or beauty or any of that. 

ok MAYBE the enrd stuff but like only a little! too much and that’d make him a normie >:(

y’all trust each other a lot tho! just as henry and lord of shadow, like friends. not a significant others

OKAY i didn’t burn myself out!! i hope you like this and agree maybe? hehe this was fun

[thefanficmonster]

Darkest Of Nights

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How to Get Away With Murder)

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Vomiting, Swearing, Spoilers for Season 1 of How To Get Away With Murder

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationship

Summary: On the night of Sam’s murder, it’s safe to say everyone is traumatized, looking for comfort and solace. However, one of them gets the complete opposite: Michaela is only offered more pain and trauma, bringing her to the brink of insanity.

Requested by 🐢 Anon, but also meant as a birthday present for an Anon who recently reached out to me. Happy birthday dear Anon! Hope you have the best one yet! Here’s the fic you requested - I hope it lives up to your expectations! It’s been such an honor to be the person to write you a birthday present and I can only hope I’ve done my job well! Love, Vy ❤

She’s still in utter shock and disbelief. She’s shaking like a leaf as she navigates the roads back to her apartment. It pains her that she’ll have to pass by the Keating house again tonight, knowing what happened there just hours ago. She squeezes the jacket tighter around herself, glad to not see any familiar - or rather any faces at all. The bonfire has gathered every college student, graduate and fan of the sport around itself, giving the streets an emptiness Michaela hasn’t seen before.

Michaela Pratt has always liked planning out her life, having her future laid out in front of her always at her disposal for changing and modifying. She’s always seen herself a successful, envied lawyer in the future, someone other lawyers fear and all wrong-doers want. Because who doesn’t want freedom? She’d pride herself on being the one to bring them that freedom. She’d pride herself on owning a title like Annalise’s - a bitch, a beast and a boss in the courtroom.

However, just like she had everything laid out in front of her eyes, she’s watching it all fall apart. Fall into that very bonfire her and her classmates went to take pictures at to own their alibis. To save themselves from possible suspicion. To paint the picture that they aren’t murderers.

That realization will never soften its blow to her chest and stomach. Every time she repeats the word ‘murderer’ in her mind, her heart skips a bit and her stomach turns, threatening to make her release everything in it onto the pavement she’s walking on. She feels disgusting and dirty, not only because of the ash and mud she has all over herself following the venture into the woods where they dismembered Sam’s body, but because she took part in it. She may have stood aside, crippled by shock, disbelief and disgust, but she’s now a part of it nonetheless.

With her heart and mind racing faster than she’s able to comprehend, she finds herself unable to turn that corner and get onto the street which the Keating house is on. She feels that if she sees that place she might just faint right there on the street and if that doesn’t raise a few questions, nothing will. Instinctively, she continues ahead, heading down the street that will inevitably lead her to where the mob of drunk or half-drunk people are surrounding a huge fire, celebrating something Michaela is less than disinterested in. She feels it’d make for an extra alibi in case the pictures they posted aren’t enough proof of their faux innocence. 

Michaela squints her eyes at the brightness of the fire nearby, sensing both a cough and a sickening feeling climbing up her throat. There are reporter trucks everywhere, ones she sees as the perfect hiding barriers to prevent her from being seen by anyone in case that sickening feeling morphs into an urge to throw up. She quickens her pace, eager to find herself in the safe space between two of the reporter trucks and attempt to calm her heart that’s threatening to beat out of her chest. She’s still visible to anyone walking along the street, but as it was established earlier, the street’s vacant and it seems it’ll remain that way for a little longer so she feels almost invisible and tiny in comparison to the two truck that serve the purpose of her protectors in this very moment.

Placing a hand on the wall of the truck, she doubles over, preparing for the inevitable when she hears a whistle from somewhere close by. Or, more specifically, directly behind her.

“What a view baby!“ A drunken slur of a male voice follows that whistle, causing her to straighten up and turn on her heel as fast as possible. “Is that how women ask to get some nowadays?”

Her stomach’s now in knots and she can’t find her voice to say anything. She’s frozen with fear of the man’s silhouette that’s now approaching her. His features aren’t visible in the dark so even if she did know him - which she’s sure she doesn’t - she wouldn’t be able to recognize him. Not that it matters, recognizing him or not, this man’s intentions are more than clear and more than threatening.

“Silence means yes in my book, babe. So...why don’t we have some fun?“ Before she can even register his proximity, he’s grabbed her wrists and pushed her against one of the trucks. The disgusting fucker holds her wrists at either side of her head, firmly holding them there, ridding her of any chance of escape.

The events she’s had to go through have already weakened her enough but even with that put to the side she’s no match for this guy - he’s a lot stronger and bigger in size. He’s basically towering over her like a predator looming over its prey, toying with it before going in for the kill. And when he does, when she feels his lips on her neck, that’s the final straw.

The need to relieve her insides finally takes over and she starts gagging, causing the son of a bitch to pull away and let go of her. And then she throws up, all over him, earning her the perfect distraction that will buy her enough time to get the fuck out of there. Despite the shaking of her legs and her still-turning stomach, Michaela takes off running, feeling sweat drops forming and running down her forehead. She can hear the cursing of that gross fucker behind her, but luckily she doesn’t take notice of another pair of running footsteps, suggesting she isn’t being followed. Even with this knowledge, she doesn’t stop running. Her brain understands she’s somewhat safe but her heart is racing, her heartbeat echoing in her ears warning her that there’s danger all around. So, she keeps running until she’s less then two blocks away from her apartment complex. 

Her adrenaline levels refuse to lower but her legs have basically turned into jelly and she can’t find it in her to even keep walking, let alone running.  She collapses, a mess of tears, sobbing and fear on the sidewalk. It’s too much. All too much and all too soon and all out of nowhere. She feels violated, vulnerable, unsafe. She feels both fragile and like she’s already been broken into shards. She feels alone and worst part is, she feels like she deserves it. She sees what happened between those two truck as a punishment for having participated in a murder and the gruesome disposal of a dead body.

Michaela Pratt always knew karma would catch up to her, she just never expected it’d be this cruel. 

She got taught the hard way that in the darkest of nights, the most evil of demons attack.

                                                                *  *  *

Connor Walsh is known to be laid back and nonchalant to the point of irritative. However, right now, he’s anything but.

He’s anxious, he’s nervous, he’s still under shock and in mild panic mode. He’s restless, pacing the living room of the Keating home while running his hands through his hair, desperately trying to ignore and push away the memories of the events that took place in this very room less than twenty four hours ago. 

“Where the hell is she?!!“ He takes a portion of his anger out on the wooden coffee table with a punch that will for sure bruise his knuckles. His eyes skim over the two other accomplices who have never looked so out of it: dead, bloodshot eyes carrying a thousand yard stare, neither of them reacting to his rage nor sharing it with him. “How the fuck are you so calm?! How can you just sit there and-!“

“Cause there’s nothing we can do!“ Wes suddenly snaps, “You heard Annalise - she called in, saying she wouldn’t be able to make it. So what, you want us to exhibit even more suspicious behavior by thrashing and yelling all over the place?“

“No, no, no. She had said she couldn’t make it because she had something to take care of. That ‘something’ could be reporting us, how do you not understand that?!“ Connor lashes out again, his fists only tightening this time, not finding a victim to take their hits.

“Michaela wouldn’t do that, she’s not stupid. It’ll immediately tie her to it too. She’ll go to jail like the rest of us.“ Laurel says, much calmer than the two men in the room though it probably has to do with the lack of energy due to the lack of sleep.

“You never know what’s going on in the brain of that selfish woman!“ He mutters, suddenly getting up and grabbing his phone. He storms out into the hallway, already dialing Michaela’s number.

With the device pressed tightly against his ear, the dial tone piercing his head like a screech straight from hell, he runs a frustrated hand over his pale as a sheet face, squeezing his eyes shut. The call eventually goes to voicemail, but that doesn’t stop Connor Walsh. He keeps trying, each attempt falling through, each call getting sent to voicemail after about five rings. Each time his anger boiling hotter.

“The hell do you want?! Can’t you catch a hint?!“ His seventh attempt is proven successful when a familiar female voices answers from the other line.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Princess. Am I bothering you? My most sincere apologies! I just wanted to know if you feel like ratting us out to the police, but if I’m calling at an inconvenient time, please forgive me.“ He sneers, his sanity restraints breaking one by one under the pressure of frustration, fear and the anxiety attack that’s been building in his chest all day today.

“Listen here, Walsh.“ Michaela hisses threateningly, though Conner doesn’t fail to pick up on the fact that there’s something off about her voice. He doesn’t dwell on that, too over-occupied with his worries of future jail time to care. “I’m not in the mood for your selfishness or for dealing with any of what happened last night so save your shit-talking for a more decent time. And as for the ratting part, I ain’t that kind of scum, though karma will catch up to each and every one of you. Just like...“ her voice suddenly cracks, the words sounding more like a sob than a threat, “Just like it caught up to me last night.“ That sentence is spoken through a cry, which is the last thing Connor was expecting to hear from the woman he deemed so high and mighty and so full of herself she can’t see the world around her nor how she’s affecting it with her selfish decisions.

That last sentence of hers is what the call ends on and what anchors itself in his head. Connor’s left standing in the hallway with a sickening feeling in his stomach that wasn’t there before and a little voice telling him that something is very wrong with Michaela. Her words were all her trademark, expected and explainable phrases but her tone, and that final statement were odd and far too out of place for him to just brush off. That last line she spoke felt like the most sincere and vulnerable thing she’s ever said to him. To anyone, really. There was no show, no tough act in those words. It was nothing but the confession of a broken girl who’s never felt like her life isn’t her own until now.

With that alarm ringing throughout his head and no good explanation, instead of turning and heading into the living room like he originally intended to, Connor storms out the front door of the home with fast and determined steps, heading for the destination he never thought he’d go to.

                                                              *  *  *

Having ordered food twenty minutes prior, Michaela doesn’t find the doorbell sounding throughout her apartment to be weird or unwelcome despite the fact it made her jump and shudder in her seat. With the comfort of the tiny pepper spray bottle in the back pocket of her jeans, she makes her way to the front door, resting one hand on the handle before pushing up on her toes to check through the peephole that the person she’s expecting is indeed the one who’s on the other side.

Her stomach drops and frustration rises through the roof when the peephole reveals the familiar, somewhat distressed face of Connor Walsh.

“GO AWAY!“ She yells turning and placing her back against the door, now not at all willing to open it.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on with you!“ She hears his voice coming from beyond the door, sounding strangely honest and deeply concerned.

“Why do you care anyway?! I already told you I won’t rat you out, you’ve got nothing to worry about!“ The lack of hostility in her voice seems to encourage Connor to speak a bit more freely.

“Come on, Shooting Star. Students who kill and dispose of bodies together share problems together.“ He says sarcastically but with true gentility behind his words.

That hint of honesty and a bit of harmless humor is what makes her slowly inch her hand toward the doorknob once again. After briefly hesitating, she pulls the door open, not at all bothered by the fact her rival is seeing her the most unpresentable she ever remembers being: hair a mess, homey clothes she can’t even recall the age of, no make-up, eye bags - the whole pack.

“Don’t like a Princess or a Shooting Star, do I?“ She attempts the same amount of humor he used but coming from her it sounds rather dead and flat, not that it’s not to be expected after everything she went through.

“You look like someone who has seen and been through some shit.“ He says truthfully, still standing in the hallway, unwilling to go inside until she gives him the green light for fear she might suddenly snap at him. “And I’m not only talking about what happened with Sam.“

Michaela’s eyes gloss over with tears immediately, mentally cursing herself for being so obvious. In order to avoid eye-contact, she steps aside to allow him inside.

“Thank you.“ He mutters as he makes his way past her and down the hall, arrogantly comfortable in the new surroundings.

By the time Michaela has started regretting her decision of letting him in, she realizes it’s already too late so she shuts and relocks the door before following after him in the living room where she finds him already situated in the armchair like it’s his 100th time visiting. Hell, like he owns the place.

She takes the seat on the couch closest to him, not bothering to offer him any hospitality in the form of drinks and snacks. Such offer feels ridiculous under these circumstances.  Speaking of ridiculous, the circumstances themselves are ridiculous - her biggest rival, and now one of her partners in crime is chilling in her living room with a smug look on his face.

“Karma’s gonna catch up to me, huh?“ He suddenly speaks up, reminding her yet again of how bad of an idea inviting him in was. “Yours caught up to you, you say. Though to me it seems like it beat and battered you too.“

Michaela’s never been a crier. In fact, she’s guilty of silently judging people she’s witnessed crying, thinking of them as weak and spineless. But here she is, fighting back tears at the memories she’d much rather forget.

“It did, but it had the opposite effect. I’m glad we ridded this world of a piece of scum like him. One less man who feels entitled to everything. Who feel free to take anything he wants anytime.“ Her throat feels dry as her eyes fill with tears despite her best attempts at holding them back, “Take a girl’s virginity, take her dignity, her safety, her life, take everything away from her. And all that when she’s most vulnerable and scared and helpless and...“

Her words come to an abrupt halt when she finds Connor has repositioned himself and is now sitting next to her on the couch, has turned to face her and has placed a reluctant hand on her shoulder, “Michaela, what happened to you?”

That’s when she breaks down for the fifth time today. Since that breakdown on the sidewalk on her way home, she’s found it infinitely harder to hold her tears back, keep her emotions at bay. So, instead of easting her energy holding back, she’s been wasting it sobbing into the comforter she had wrapped around herself like a safety cocoon until Connor rang the doorbell.

Instinctively more than intentionally, Connor wraps his arm around her shoulders as she tries to get a few words out in-between sobs, “This guy....h-he t-tried to....” she can’t even finish the sentence without the entire scene playing out in front of her eyes, causing her stomach to tighten and her sobs to grow louder. “But, I-I got away in time. But Connor, what if I d-didn’t? Oh God, what would’ve happened to me if I didn’t?”

“It’s ok, you’re ok now. You’re safe.“ He murmurs, pulling her closer until her head’s resting on his shoulder, “You’re ok. And don’t you ever think of it as karma, you hear me? You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that. That was in no way your fault or your punishment. That guy’s gonna meet his punishment if I ever lay my eyes on him though, that’s for sure.“

“I-I didn’t see his face, i-it was too dark.“ She manages to say through the subsided sobbing that has now reduced to crying with the occasional sniffle. “I just heard his voice.” Despite having calmed down, she surprisingly doesn’t feel the need to pull away from Connor, create some distance between them. She doesn’t even dwell on how out of character this is for the both of them, nor does she dwell on the slightly off-putting thought that she’s actually glad to have him by her side. To have someone comforting and reassuring her that what happened is not a result of her own bad actions. That thought haunted her all night, preventing her from even thinking about falling asleep.

“Well, if you ever recognize his voice anywhere, you know you have three experienced killers and dismemberers you can contact to, you know, do the job.“ He says comfortingly, his tone light but still serious.

She can’t help but scoff, “One kill and you’re suddenly hitmen?”

Connor chuckles, “When someone messes with one of our own, we sure as hell are.”

That sentence feels like a bandage on one of Michaela’s many invisible wounds. That one of our own line fills that hole her loneliness drilled into her last night on that sidewalk when she felt so lost and alone and broken. When she felt she had no one to turn to and no one to seek comfort in. 

Among the many things she saw, heard and learned, the most valuable lesson these past twenty four hours have taught Michaela is that after the darkest of nights still comes morning. A bright morning, a new beginning and a helping hand with it. A helping hand, a safe embrace and comforting words. Bonus lesson is that one can never guess where, or rather from who those three elements will be given. These two are a crystal clear example: never did Michaela think she’d find a helping hand, safe embrace and comforting words coming from Connor Walsh. But here they are.

It may be odd and it may be temporary, but she’s not complaining, he doesn’t appear to be doing so either.

[artificialqueens]

At last we find each other (Branjie) - Thorpe

A/N: Long time, no see! So basically I’m staying on brand. It was “Those long van rides”’s first birthday on the third, and the best way to celebrate fics is with more fics, don’t you think? So here it goes, my 5+1 story, that would not grace your screens for a couple months more if it wasn’t for Pinkgrapefruit, Freyja, and, most importantly, Dane. Neither it would without the most amazing beta this fandom knows, Meggie. I’m so excited to be able to show you my work again, so without further ado - enjoy xx

Five times Brooke Lynn and Vanjie didn’t meet, and one time the did

In fairytales, if two people are meant to be together, their paths will cross eventually. That’s how fate works. 

But life is not a fairytale.

1.

They were at yet another pageant. Vanjie still couldn’t believe how many of them could be organized in the span of a single month - all mixing into one feast of colours, sequins, and foundation too orange to match anyone’s skin tone. They used to be busy before, but with Alexis’s career taking off, “busy” was an understatement. It was only for the good, though. More bookings meant better money and people catching interest in him as well - two things no young queen would complain about. He was enjoying a brief moment of a break before they had to get ready for their performance, all the hustle and bustle of the contest beginning to wear his ever-so-cheerful persona off.

The talent show segment had just begun and Alexis was going in as one of the last girls. Good - they’ll end it with a bang. Vanessa felt a rush of excitement just at the thought of what they had prepared, jumps and twirls and drops he was ready to slay. He was backstage of the venue, peeking through the slit between the glittering silver of the curtains from where he was leaning on the wall. It was hotter than concrete probably should be, but then again - with strong lights everywhere, poor air conditioning, and pressure so high it was clawing at the ceiling - everything there was too hot for comfort. He didn’t have the time to get a good look at the other contestants since their arrival - there were way too many of them, and he was hungry, so once he clapped and whooped as his drag mother charmed the jury, he went on to look for the buffet. Judging from what he could see now, he hadn’t lost much. The curvy redhead on the stage did have some good moves, Vanjie had to admit that, but watching her struggle with her wig constantly getting tangled up in the embroidered material of her sleeves was far more entertaining than the performance itself. Yeah, Alexis had this title sewn up, whichever it was. He chuckled under his breath. Almost on cue, one of the other back-up dancers came looking for him, gesturing to follow her.

“Alexis wants us to go through the routine once more,” she said over the high pitched voice of the host announcing another contestant, her expression reflecting the exasperation  Vanessa felt. He rolled his eyes.

“Hoe’s crazy, she a drag queen or cardio instructor? Hope ya have that mug all set, I tell you that! Mama gon’ whoop your ass if you get on that stage looking busted.” Cackling louder than he should, he uncrossed his arms and used them to push himself off the wall to stand straight. As he was following her down the corridor, he heard the audience cheer louder and more enthusiastically than before. Curious, he tried to look back, but was already too far to see a tall blonde entering the stage in pointe shoes, so he simply shrugged and rushed to keep up with his companion.

2.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Brooke sounded more than skeptical, brows furrowed, as he took in the sight of his friend. Steve was sitting on the bathroom floor - body sluggish against the wall and face the shade of pale that borders on greenish.

“Yeah, must have eaten something off. You and your damn seafood,” he mumbled, probably aiming for a querulous tone, but coming off tired at best, his eyes closed and temple resting on the cool tiles.

“Oh, hold on, bitch, don’t blame me. It was you who came up with the idea!” His mocked offence was soon alleviated by gentle hand coming to rub one of the sickly looking man’s shoulders as he crouched next to him. “You want me to get you anything? Water or something?”

A small ’Water would be nice’ was directed towards his back, as he got up not waiting for the answer, determined to come up with something that would help his friend. He frowned at how weak it sounded and tried to remember some the home remedies his mum used to prepare. Citrus, maybe, or was it for cold? Muttering to himself, he looked at the cabinets with puzzled expression, trying to figure out where the glasses could be. He found them on his first try, realizing Steve’s Chicago apartment was organized just like his old one back in Toronto. He smiled at the memories of all the evenings they spent there, only to wake up in a state similar to Steve’s present one on the next morning.

“I didn’t find anything with ginger, but this will do.” Coming back to his friend’s misery den, he used his chin to point at a mug of chamomile tea he was carrying on a small tray. “And water with lemon, it should help… I think.”

“Won’t be worse than it is now, eh?” Steve lifted the corner of his lips in a crooked, but warm smile. Brooke let out a little laugh and sat by his side, carefully placing the tray on the floor within arm’s reach. “Don’t get all comfortable here, you better start getting ready if we want to make it to the show.”

“Actually, I thought we’d pass on Roscoe’s tonight, you know? You’re not quite killing it on the dance floor right now.” Canadian queen bumped shoulders with the shorter man, raising an eyebrow at him with a smirk when he huffed.

“With a little help of my lovely nurse Hytes here, I’ll be back in shape in no time.” Not bothering with a response, he just glared at the still awfully pale face. “Don’t look at me like that, Brock. You didn’t come all this way to sit in my bathroom. We’re going out.”

“Listen up, bitch. What I came all this way for was to see my best friend. If I cared about clubs I might have just as well stayed in Nashville.” Both his voice and eyes were unusually stern, warning against raising any protest. Soon his face softened as he placed a hand on top of the other man’s one and squeezed it. “I’ve missed you. And if freezing my ass out on those hideous tiles means spending time with you, you can bet I’m down for it.”

“You really are the best, B, you know that?” Steve turned his palm around and squeezed Brooke’s in return, looking up at his friend.

“I do,” the blonde followed back quickly, sly smile widening to an amused grin as the bearded man shoved him playfully. They both leaned back in comfortable silence, Steve sipping his tea, and their hands still interlocked loosely. After a bit, Brooke remembered something. “Who’s performing tonight, anyway?”

“Uhm, some of the local girls, regulars mostly. But there’s someone new, from Florida, I think. Heard she’s a great dancer, really turning it out.” Steve noticed his friend’s sparking interest at his words. “You’re sure you wanna miss out on that?”

“Positive. If she’s really that good I’ll probably get to see her somewhere else, too.” Brooke nodded before helping himself up. “Now, I wasn’t joking about freezing out. We’re either moving to the couch, or I’m building a pillow fort here, you decide.”

3.

The bouncing of his own leg started to annoy him, but it’s not like he had much else to do. For what felt like the millionth time, and probably was pretty close to that in reality, Vanessa let his eyes wander over the departures hall of the Tampa Airport. Children playing tag - or another game that required running around the two huge metal flower pots and screaming like little banshees - on his right, an older woman lifting her crossword to the harsh white lighting and squinting her eyes behind big glasses before writing in another answer, black plastic of the three empty seats, a teenager in headphones tapping to the rhythm on the handrail, young, dog-tired couple with a baby - or just a bundle of blankets from his perspective, a blonde dozing off with her head on another girl’s lap, and a row of windows on the left. He studied the dirt in the corners of the frames and the pattern on the hackneyed green carpet, not even hoping to notice something new, having spent almost two hours on memorizing every spot and abrasion. Slowly, he transferred his gaze to one of the screens, his usual Duracell Bunny attitude long worn out, to once again discover that nothing had changed. Father rocking the baby in his arms, young boy’s fingers twitching to the slightly faster tempo, another crossword solved, and the same red letters arranged into the word ‘DELAYED’ next to the number of his flight.

The Puerto Rican squirmed in his place - another futile attempt to make himself more comfortable - thinking on a way to convince RuPaul to speed up the season premiere. He needed big gigs with bigger tips to start coming, so that he could pay for the VIP lounge and not deal with those cheap-ass plastic fuckers anymore. Did she have a dog? Or a cat? Maybe he could kidnap it and demand the tapes as a ransom, smuggle it into his bag or something. The sudden scratching of the loudspeakers interrupted his inner contemplation of whether Riley would take to their potential hostage. The voice of a bored woman didn’t  sound sorry at all as it was sincerely apologizing for the inconvenience (inconvenience his ass, it was a hell of fucking disaster) and regretfully informing that the delayed flight to Nashville was canceled . Just like that, Vanjie was back at 10, jumping from his seat, ready to throw hands at the first airport worker he saw. He had to settle for muttering curses in two languages, as complaints and grunts took up all the air in the hall. He unlocked his phone and angrily tapped on one of the contacts.

“Miss Vanjie.” He rolled his eyes at the greeting Kameron chose, exasperation fading slightly. “Shouldn’t you be on a plane right now?”

“Child, don’t even tell me.” There it was, anger back to its full form. “Been here for hours, waiting for my gate to be announced, all patient and shit, and now they go sayin’ the bitch won’t fly!”

“Wait, what? Nah, girl, you have to be here!” The Nashville queen whined. They wrapped up filming not even two weeks earlier, but all of the season 10 girls already wanted to meet up, and Kameron’s belated birthday party was a perfect occasion for them to catch up and try to get all of the details out of the top four.

“Lemme go find that plane, Imma go there like ‘Hey, Captain Mateo’s on board, where we flyin’?’ Or ain’t it a pilot? Pilot Vanessa ready to take over!” He heard cackling on the other side and felt himself smile a little as well. With a sigh, the tanned man sat down and started playing with loose threads at the hem of his shorts. “I’m sorry Kammy, it cancelled. Won’t make it”

“No way. When’s the next flight?” Bodybuilder Barbie insisted, but seemed a bit distracted, and he could hear some muffled voices coming from the other side.

“Tomorrow. No connecting flights or whatever.” The way regret sounded in his voice brought back the still bitter memory of his elimination, making him feel even worse. Maybe it was better if he harassed Ru into not airing the season at all? “Can’t do that, gotta be home in the evening, ya know she’s a werkin’ woman, baby.”

“Ow, such a shame, we’ve…” Kameron trailed off and he could hear her talking to someone else. “Sorry, Brooke’s helping me set everything here. I haven’t even unpacked all of my stuff yet, she’s a lifesaver.”

“Who dat?” The name sounded familiar, woke up some faint memories of a crowd cheering and anger boiling behind Alexis’s practiced smile as she waved in a runner-up sash. He recalled green eyes catching him staring in the changing room, but he wasn’t sure - maybe it was someone else.

“Brooke Lynn Hytes. You’ve never met her?” Kam was genuinely surprised. “Girl, you’d love her. I bet you’d hit it off-  What? Shit, no, I forgot. Uh, sorry, Vanj, I have to go. Talk to you soon, girl!”

“Sure. You guys have fun.” His friend hung up with a final goodbye, and he rubbed his eyes, trying to remember which one of those identical counters he was supposed to go to to get a refund on his ticket. Stepping in the direction of a long queue he noticed a familiar old lady standing in, he tried to shake off the pressing feeling of missing out on something important.

4.

He didn’t act on impulse, he didn’t. He planned his every move and word and decision, instinct to always strive for precision etched into lean body with tired muscles, judging eyes of strict choreographers, and ribbons tightly wrapped around his ankles. Impulsiveness was uncertain ground, and expectations growing heavier with every title and crown needed a solid foundation. And yet, there he was - comfortably seated against his headboard with Apollo curled next to him, hitting the blue icon and opening an empty conversation against his better judgment, not allowing doubts and what ifs to change his mind. The last notes of “To the Moon” still played in the background as his fingers started typing.

Watching past seasons, realistically he had known he wouldn’t make it in the casting because of the green card, but seeing all of the queens that got in - he couldn’t help looking for other reasons that wouldn’t get him through, every single thing they had and he didn’t. Maybe it was the fact he finally got the call himself, his life becoming a frenzy of alterations and toning Courtney’s excitement down, or that he kind of knew Vanessa - saw him performing, stood dumbstruck with eyes struggling to follow impossibly quick movements, relishing in the energy and pure joy his small body radiated - and knew how much more he had to offer, but this time, instead of spotting differences, he found a connection.

‘I don’t wanna get emotional with a lot of people,’ the Latino man had said, unwilling to let his resolve crumble for everyone to witness, but breaking down in a lonely corner with Eureka, and the Canadian felt his heart fall a little with bitter wave of understanding. He listened to the crushed voice talking about his fears of letting his family down, disappointing his mum - fears Brooke Lynn knew all too well; saw him holding a silver statuette and winced at the image of himself being in the exact same position in a couple of months - clutching the cold metal like it could prevent his dreams from shattering down on the floor, dreading the thought of all the sets of eyes trained to the screen at Play Nashville.

But, obviously, he couldn’t have written that, so he set for a short and nice message showing his support, nothing too personal or potentially embarrassing. They didn’t know each other that well and, actually, maybe even reaching out to him after his elimination in the first place would come off as overstepping. After all, it must have been close to a year - Vanjie had surely gotten over it months earlier. For a second his finger hovered over the little arrow, weighing the arguments for and against, but he hastily sent the message before he got to think on it too much. I probably won’t see him anytime soon, anyway, he reassured himself with a deep breath, but once in a while glanced to check if the message was received, imagining short fingers sliding over the screen and plump lips curling in the corners.

Two months later, when his apartment looked more like a Samsonite shop than his usually organized space, he set up three alarms to make sure he got up in time to get to the airport and hesitantly opened his Messenger app, scrolling down to one particular conversation.

After checking if the alarms were turned on, he rolled over. And if his smile was a little sad, it was too dark to tell.

5.

DragCon was fun. He was having fun, it was great. He had his booth dripping with flowers, his silhouette snatched, pink and sparkling - all Barbie fantasy that would not get knocked out the first episode, if he could have gotten his hot glue gun on Cazias’s level (or himself on the sewing machine’s level). There was a line of people who came to support him, waiting to take a photo, gagging on his merch and his lovely mama selling it, and he couldn’t have been more grateful. Even if it all was a bit tiring. 

“Hi, gorgeous. Look at that, you look great. Come on, do a twirl. Yes!” He laughed and clapped as a short girl made a turn, long, black braid attached to her hat spinning with her. He pointed at the pentagram sewn on the hat’s brim. “What’s that? You some witch? Mary, if ya lookin’ for Miss Sharon, try again. Ain’t no bobbidi-boo here.”

“I’m in a some sort of a coven, yeah,” she laughed. How excited she seemed didn’t fit with her edgy look - all back and revealing, a crop top with a logo Vanessa didn’t recognize - but it matched her sweet voice and bright smile perfectly. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m here. I’m running to the show, but I saw your booth and just had to stop by. You’re amazing.”

“You so sweet, thank you. Let’s get a photo. A nice, pretty photo with that mug of yours.” He led her to the pink wall and posed. As the girl got her phone back from the photographer and checked the time, she suddenly started gathering her bags in hurry and apologized, adorably rambling about the fashion show she was heading to. Vanjie didn’t catch most of it, just that her friend, B-something, was walking in it, but he cackled regardless, amused with the girl’s babbling, before going to give her a usual hug goodbye. “Say hello to that model friend from me, won’t ya? Bye! Have fun!”

Soon the commotion started to die out a bit, and as he could see the end of the queue approaching, he couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved. His fans always hyped him up, but after hours of feeling the tape pull, laces squeeze, and bottoms of his feet prick from standing in heels, he’d have taken every break he could get.

“Vanjie! Can we talk with you for a second?” Vanessa sighed at the sight of WowPresents’s crew approaching him. That’d be it for his break . “We’re interviewing queens for the promotion videos, and we’ve been asking them about you.”

“That’s why everyone saying ‘Miss Vanjie’? It’s just my fucking name. I ain’t mad, though, I love it.” Ever since he appeared in the convention centre there had been people screaming his iconic quote at him at every turn - the crowd providing better acoustic than freaking Grand Canyon, two words constantly echoing in some part of the room.

“Guilty.” The young man holding the microphone laughed. “Could you tell us more about who Miss Vanjie is?”

“Miss Vanjie is a wild, ghetto bitch from Tampa, Florida. Puerto Rican background. And got eliminated first, and is legendary. That’s what Vanessa Vanjie is. With a lotta’ flowers an’ a lotta’ Barbie. They didn’t like it, though, so it got a boot.” He said it like nobody’s business, all cheeky - the nerve everyone loved brought up for the camera. He had had a hard time dealing with his elimination, felt like a failure, and when the ‘Miss Vanjie’ thing blew up, he first thought he was a joke. But as the love and support around him grew, he came to rebuild his confidence. And with season 11 popping up, he felt just that, legendary. “What did those other hoes say ‘bout me?”

The cameraman exchanged a meaningful look with the interviewer. “Actually, why won’t you ask them yourself?”

They were walking through the convention centre, music blasting and people bustling around them, looking for his sisters that hadn’t been interviewed yet. He kept waving to people and screaming through the megaphone in his hand - the sound guy regretted having given it to him after five minutes - as they were approached by a smiling couple and a little boy wearing a feather boa and looking absolutely dumbstruck. He leaped to greet the boy with a bright smile before his mother finished introducing the boy - Noah - as his ‘biggest fan’.

“Ya wanna be a drag queen, little man?” he asked, and the boy eagerly nodded. Vanjie noticed the ballet shoes on his little feet. “Oh, you a dancer? Show me some moves.”

Noah took a step back and stood on his toes to make a turn, ended with a bit shaky arabesque. Vanessa eagerly started applauding him, motioning for the crew to do the same. Noah looked a bit shy and reached for his mum’s hand before speaking, but he smiled back at Vanjie. “I do ballet.”

“A drag queen ballerina? Ya know, someone’s gotta be first,” he smiled warmly. Kids were his favourite part of DragCons, so passionate and creative, and so, so cute. “Gonna keep my fingers crossed for ya. All of ‘em, just watch it.”

Drag queen ballerina , he thought to himself as he bid his goodbye and got the last hug. That’d be something to see.

+1.

Back straight. Shoulders back. Head high.

Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. Repeat.

Smooth out the wig. Is that a tangle? No, he brushed it out perfectly, breathe in.

Maybe he messed it up checking? Is there a mirror somewhere? Don’t think, hold it.

Remember your lines. They’re stupid. And boring. He should have thought about something funny. He’s going to make a fool of himself at the very beginning, and now it’s too late to change them, and- Calm down, breathe out.

It’s going to be fine, it’s all going to be fine. It’s not going to be fine, it’s-

A man with headphones, whose name he had heard, but forgot immediately, approached him and gave him a last minute warning, bringing him back from the verge of falling into the spiral. Brooke shook his head - it wasn’t the time to get distracted. He stood at the red line painted on the floor and forced his hand to stay still at his side, despite nervous itching to make sure his hat wasn’t tilted.

“And… you’re on. Come on, good luck.” He opened his eyes, losing the image of smiling Farra, but the encouraging words she would always tell him before every pageant still rang in his head as he started walking towards the streams of bright lights slipping through the pink door frame at the end of the corridor. With every step the screams and laughter got louder, but he couldn’t pick up anything because of the erratic beating of his heart. Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. He was almost there, red sequins on his costume glimmering like perfectly cut rubies in the first bits of light already reaching him - making him feel regal, confident, right. Ducking his head a little - just in case - the Northern queen put on his well-practiced smile.

“Is she international?” A loud voice cut through his adrenaline-induced haze, and Brooke automatically turned his head to the left, looking for its source, taken aback for a second upon catching the sight of a smile he knew as good as his own. Without thinking, he rushed to Nina’s side, matching her grin, and fell into familiar embrace. It can’t be that bad with her here, he thought to himself, eyes roaming over heavily painted faces surrounding him, taking in curiosity, furrowed brows, amusement, and- oh .

At the end of the table he saw a short man covered in glitter, though he guessed his skin would have a golden glow even without it. He was clad in red - the shade loud and summoning attention, suiting him perfectly - tight dress hiding toned muscles that had had his gaze lingering a tad too long on Instagram. Full lips curled into the brightest smile he’d seen, showing rows of blindingly white teeth, lighting up the pretty features Brooke knew for a fact weren’t painted on, and bringing a glint to his eyes, which managed to seem playful even behind blue lenses as he returned the Canadian’s ogling with equal interest.

There wasn’t a flutter in his heart, a pang in his chest, or a rush of warmth in the pit of his stomach. It didn’t feel like coming home, like two pieces of puzzle fitting together, or like never having to wonder if he’s enough.

Not yet.

But there was a spark, electrifying the air between them more and more with every quick glance across the room and quirk of lips sealed with a shared secret none of them fully knew, but guarded regardless. And it felt like a promise, like a long time coming change they didn’t realize they had been waiting for until then.

In fairy tales, if two people are meant to be together, their paths will cross eventually. That’s how fate works. But life is not a fairy tale. 

Except sometimes, sometimes it is.

[tessatechaitea]

Kid Eternity #2

This cover says, "Don't look at who wrote it! Just look at how interesting these visuals are! Sucker."

In my review of Kid Eternity #1, I threw out a few theories on why Ann Nocenti's writing is so weird. After reading page one of this issue, I've thrown those theories out again but in a different way. That makes complete sense if you understand English idioms and also understand that everything Ann Nocenti writes is basically pre-trash.

This is page one of Kid Eternity #2 and it will probably get this review banned on Tumblr.

I have a new theory: Ann Nocenti asked what a Vertigo comic book should be and editor Tom Peyer probably joked, "They're mostly tits and profound nonsense." So Ann Nocenti's vagina gobbed in her underwear and she squealed with glee. "That's what I do!" she chortled merrily! I probably shouldn't abuse Ann Nocenti for writing things I don't understand. I have plenty of choices of other people to abuse for it: my elementary school teachers for not calling me out on doing just enough to get by; my junior high school teachers who let me get away with not putting any effort into big year-end projects (In science, we were supposed to make a stone age tool. I rubber glued a carved-to-a-shoddy point stick to another stick (which was worse than my friend Robert who put some pine needles into a split stick, calling the weapon "Ow"); in English, we had one project based on Romeo and Juliet (because all we did that quarter was watch and read various versions of the play) and I refused to do it because the teacher was wasting my time; in Computers, I found Dan Felipe's project, a trivia program, and I just copied it and used it for my own project (changing all the questions and line numbers and other things to make it seem like it wasn't plagiarized but, I mean, come on! In fairness to me, I only did it because the stupid fucking school changed computers halfway through the semester, dropping the TRS-80s for Apples and my project was relying on the Poke images of the TRS-80 to create an animated sequence)); my high school English teacher, Mr. Borror, for reading nearly everything I wrote in front of the class so that I began to think I was the wittiest fucker in Santa Clara High; my college teachers for some reason or another that allows me to not blame my own lack of ability; and probably my parents because if they were any good at their parental jobs, I wouldn't be writing a blog about comic books. In other words, I'm sure Ann Nocenti is a philosophical genius while I'm just a guy who blames everybody else for things I don't understand. Even if I truly felt Ann Nocenti was an underrated genius whose writings I'm incapable of parsing, I would never ask her to explain what she meant by this first page of Kid Eternity #2. I just wouldn't feel comfortable putting her on the spot like that. It's not up to the artist to explain their art to the foolish audience! Only the Christian Messiah bears that responsibility (and, let's face it, he wouldn't have had to explain every fucking parable if he'd been able to convince smarter people of his bullshit). So if it's up to me to interpret this first page gibber gabber, I suppose I should get to business. Or kill myself. I mean, killing myself would be easier and less painful. And I totally would kill myself before reading more Ann Nocenti comic books except I have plans to cut my toenails in a few months. Before I begin trying to understand this hogwash, I'd like to point out that if she'd written it as a sonnet, I wouldn't have a problem with it. I'd read it, think, "Yep, that's a sonnet!", nod my head in sage understanding, and then jerk off to the titties. But this is not a sonnet so it is not allowed to be obtuse simply for obtuseness' sake. So this fucking speech. First off, who is speaking? The serpent trying to fuck the naked lady? Is this the speech the serpent used on Eve to get her to eat the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil? Although if that's the case, how would talking about Buddha convince Eve of anything? I'll assume the serpent is omniscient (because he may or may not be Satan, depending on what holy men or con artists you believe but certainly isn't Satan if you're simply going by the Book of Genesis. I bet the serpent was God doing one of those Zeus things minus the rape. Zeus loved to trick people so he could get laid; Yahweh tricks people to test their faith). I guess since she had yet to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil (come on, God! That name is terrible), she wouldn't know what she doesn't know and can't defend against any nonsense the serpent spews at her. Let's assume the art goes with the speech and it's the serpent speaking. So why is "God in repair" and what the fuck does that mean? And why is it followed by the statement, "Why not call the wisest man a freak?" Does the snake only speak in non sequiturs? Was that a stupid question since I already know the snake's dialogue is being written by Ann Nocenti? It is kind of refreshing to see that her dialogue style never changed in thirty years. The shit the serpent says on this page could be nonsense spewed by Coil from Nocenti's New 52 Katana. You know what? I don't have to continue this because, in the end, it's just a carnival barker's pitch to get people to believe in the freaks in his freak show. He's all, "What's the difference between freaks and religion?!" That's not a riddle I have an answer for. The only religious joke I know is "What do Noah's Ark and The Bible have in common?" That might be a joke that was extant before I came up with it but I did come up with it on my own. And I think the answer is so obvious I would be insulting the intelligence of all four people reading this. Oh, and the snake trying to fuck the lady? It's a tattoo on the Tattooed Lady. The reason the comic begins in a circus freak show? Because Kid Eternity is the newest freak on display! The opening sideshow scene is just one of Kid Eternity's dreams. The demon angel babies get into Kid Eternity's dream and when he wakes up, they've tied his hair to the floor which totally has him trapped for like three panels. That was a close one! Kid Eternity decides he can't truly know what he's doing unless he utterly knows himself. So it's time to get his brain probed.

Let me guess: Carl will blather on about synchronicity and dreams while Freud tries to figure out how big Kid Eternity's penis is.

Carl doesn't initially discuss anything. He's just the straight man for Freud saying all the typical things you'd expect Freud to say: penis this, envy that, fuck your mom, kill your dad, more penises, many more penises, everything is penises. But then he comes on fast and furious with his archetypes and collective unconscious and human mythology stuff, all the biggest Carl Jung hits (aside from synchronicity but I'm sure he'll get around to that later. Ann Nocenti isn't going to miss showing the readers all the knowledge nuggets she mined to make her brain big). If only Nocenti would spend as much time writing the story as she spends making sure the readers know she knows a lot of shit then maybe I would have kept reading this comic book. Meanwhile, Zeus wanders around looking for somebody to trick fuck, Madame Blavatsky hunts down the next best burger before she slips back to the past, Beelzebub and Judas wander through Limbo, Jesus gets drunk and falls off a bar stool, and a phone yells at a woman. That all happens on one page to make sure the reader remembers other things are happening. But why does Ann Nocenti spend two panels of that dense page on Madame Blavatsky when she could have updated the reader on the non-X-File FBI agents who will probably hate fuck each other before the story ends? I also wanted an update on the Buddha Christ Trash Child. But no! Instead Nocenti just moves on to more of her proof that she's read all about Freud and Jung and totally understands the shallow top layer of their theories and philosophies. I don't mean to say I know any more than Ann Nocenti! But I understand how little I know of Freud and everything she's had him say are things everybody knows about Freud from all the dirty jokes about him: ids, supermen, parental relations, and phalli!

Oh, that's why we didn't get an update on the dense update page; Nocenti needed a full page to document the hate/fuck.

My new Ann Nocenti writing theory: Ann Nocenti has never had an original thought. She simply reads things, takes copious notes of bits and quotes she likes, and then shoves them sideways into whatever script she's currently writing. No wait. She does have original thoughts but they're almost not worth having. Like "everything in life is a prison" and then proving it by stating a few things about life that can be cell-like. It's profound in that way that things are profound when you're on acid. If you don't think about it, you can find yourself nodding along going, "Yeah! Yeah! Everything is a prison! Life is a fucking prison!" But if you do stop to think about it, it's like coming down off acid. You start to see how that thought you had about how the number three ties everything else in the universe together because of the way the corners meet didn't wasn't as mind blowing as it was six hours ago. Although the rant you went on about how pressing play on the VCR remote play the show and pressing pause pauses it but then to unpause it you have to hit pause again when you should really hit play was pretty fucking good. Speaking of acid, I'm two-thirds of the way through the acid documentary on Netflix and it's fucking fantastic. I wasn't really thinking a lot about it but I was nodding along going, "Yeah! Yeah! Everything they're saying about acid is absolutely spot on!" throughout. I actually had to take a break because it was making me too happy listening to all Sting and Carrie Fisher tell their acid stories. I don't know why I didn't just spend five paragraphs discussing why the FBI agents were playing Scrabble while they fucked. It's probably just one of Sean Phillips' kinks. Oh, maybe they were just playing Scrabble and not hate-fucking. It's hard to tell because on the next page, Jerry asks Val if they can finally fuck and Val is all, "You're a nerd!" Then she slits his throat. But then in the next panel, his throat isn't slit and he's all, "You feeling better?" And she's all, "Yeah!" So I don't know what the fuck is going on and I don't really care. I've still got like eight pages of this mess to get through and I'd rather just nod along than try to understand it. And then just like last issue, Ann Nocenti sputters out a bit of writing that I totally agree with because I've said basically the same thing before. About how every day, I fall in love with some person I see on the street because of the smallest of things. And then I love them forever.

My story isn't as good but I once fell in love walking through the airport in Minneapolis. I was passing by an attractive woman and she was gazing off somewhere as I looked at her face. She was coming up on my right and then I glanced down at her breasts and back up at her face. And that was the moment she noticed me, as I glanced from her breasts to her face. And, catching me, she smiled and laughed and kept on walking. And I still love her to this day.

And for this page alone, I forgive all of Ann Nocenti's past (future?) transgressions and find myself eager to read Kid Eternity #3. Oh wait. I still have a few pages left in this piece of crap. I read a lot of books in college that I sometimes still say are my favorite books but I should probably just say they stuck with me because I know which books are almost always in my top five and a lot of the ones in college aren't those. But Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence always stuck with me. It's possible that I completely missed the message of the novel but to me, the book was about how true love only exists when it's unrequited. Archer Day-Lewis doesn't love Ellen Pfeifer more than May Ryder for any other reason than that she was the one he didn't marry. It seemed to me that Wharton was trying to portray how hard love is and true, phenomenal love only exists in the imagination. Only a love we can imagine can remain magical. Only when we love an object, or the imaginary person we've placed on a pedestal, can we evade disappointment in the reality and flaws of another actual human being. Being in love with Ellen Pfeifer was easy because she wasn't there for all those years. There were no fights or disappointments or multiple times accidentally walking in on her taking a huge shit. She was pure and beautiful and imaginary. But then again, maybe that wasn't the point of the book at all. I was young and romantic at the time and I still absolutely loved the women I'd had unrequited crushes on in junior high and high school while my college relationship was slowly circling the drain due to personality conflicts. But not due to sex. The sex was fucking great! Anyway, Freud and Jung decide Kid Eternity is in denial and they leave. Hemlock and Dog spread some new reality across the world via a computer virus. Madame Blavatsky starts making time go backwards, probably so she can vomit up all the Twinkies she ate and eat them again with their delicious creamy filling. And the devil and Judas wind up in a bar in Limbo with Jesus to make plans for Kid Eternity. There's probably a lot more going on but there'd be too much for me to process even if it wasn't confused by Nocenti's writing style. No wonder I gave up on this book after three issues. There's no way by the third issue I could remember anything that was going on, if I even understood it the month prior. Kid Eternity #2 Rating: C-. A confusing mess that's about 90% Ann Nocenti just vomiting out things she's read. Even the things that, with the benefit of the doubt, I want to believe sprang from her own philosophical musings, I can't bring myself to absolutely believe it. I feel like every thought and piece of dialogue she's placed in this story just came from piles of notebooks filled with notes she's made while reading other people's works. It's practically a collage of philosophical ideas and moral musings pulled from myriad sources and shoved into a Kid Eternity framework "written" by Ann Nocenti. Which could explain Nocenti's penchant for stilted dialogue. If she were making up all the character's thoughts, the dialogue would flow from one character to the next. But when each character can only respond with some profound thought Nocenti read elsewhere, it comes across like a ransom note, each word cut from the mind of somebody else and pasted as a reply to another bit cut from some other thinker, no relation existing between the two thoughts except the proximity relationship Nocenti has given them.

[whatever-the-fucky-i-writes]

Shadows Dance - Part 1

Word Count: 1,564

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Death, Mentions of torture, Blood, Swearing, One mention of drug use

Part 2   Part 3   Part 4 (Final)

Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters from the MCU.

Tags: @beccaanne814   @winterbvrnes

Author’s Note: AND HERE WE ARE! The original reason for making this darn blog! [Cue Thomas Sanders Voice] Story Time! So the amazing winterbvrnes was having a writing challenge and I had been toying with the idea of actually writing something rather than just creating stories in my head that will never have the honor of meeting the lovely Ms Paper. The basic premise was that you take a line from a song, book, poem, whatever you want and write a story about it. I decided to go for it, choosing the line “Sometimes goodbye's the only way. And the Sun will set for you." from the song Shadow of the Day by Linkin Park (a song that I may or may not have listened to on repeat while writing this whole thing). And even though they ended up taking down the challenge and later leaving Tumblr, I decided to still write this story. And so ten months later, my first (on purpose) fanfic is finally done. Infinity War wasn’t out when I started writing this so there’s no spoilers or anything from that movie in here. I’ve split it up into four parts and I’m going to try and exercise what little patience I have and try to not post them all in one go. Part two will probably be up within the next few days.

And I just want to give special thanks to beccaanne814. I am so thankful that she decided to read this, and her kind words and support gave me the extra boost I needed to actually put this out into the world. If you don’t already know of her, you should totally go check her out; her writing’s amazeballs!

So without further ado, here is my Bucky x Reader series, Shadows Dance.

        You had joined the Avengers a few years ago. After Steve’s half of the Avengers had fled, Tony had started to compile a list of special individuals whom he believed had the makings of potential recruits. However, that wasn’t the reason you were recruited. Were you on the list? Yes, your exemplary background as an ex-Marine and the fact that you were pretty dang smart ensured that, and having powers didn’t hurt either. No, the reason you were recruited was that you actually saved a few Avenger butts when they found themselves in a sticky situation at a Hydra base that you had infiltrated while working with Nick Fury in Europe. And after you’d finished saving their asses, you just had to come back to the compound for celebratory drinks. And, after Tony talked it over with you and Fury, you all decided it would be beneficial if you stayed.

        And after a brief adjustment period, you began to fit right in. You could keep up with Tony and Bruce’s scientific ramblings so you would often find yourself wandering down to the lab on restless nights to keep Tony company and provide second (or third) opinions on whatever gizmo or gadget he was working on. Your main sparring opponents were Nat and Steve, but you would also face Clint and Sam to shake things up sometimes. All in all, you got on well with everyone on the team, aside from Bucky. He wasn’t that good with new people yet so your interactions were often spent in silence, or very near to it. That’s not to say you avoided him, you could often be found watching TV in the main room together, but you didn’t push him to talk to you; you figured that when he felt comfortable enough, he would talk. And about half a year later, talk he did. After you got over what felt akin to shock at his first attempt at initiating conversation with you, you would talk about anything and everything. You two were like peas in a pod and he became your best friend (but you’d never tell Tony that — his fake offense would be unbearable.) Your room was just down the hall from Bucky’s so you’d often find yourself comforting him after nightmares, and he found himself doing the same for you. And on the weekends when you guys weren’t running missions, you’d often have movie or TV show marathons in each others room. And that’s how things were for the next year and half-ish. 

        However, after Bucky and the sweet art student (she had to be the nicest human being you had met outside of the Avengers) broke up, you became very conflicted. You felt bad because your best friend was hurting and you only wanted him to be happy, but you also felt… relief? And that’s how you realized that what had once been platonic, for you at least, had become romantic. But your friendship with him meant the world to you so you kept your feelings a secret so as to not jeopardize that. You didn’t want to fuck it all up by revealing your feelings and having him not reciprocate which would lead to inevitable awkwardness. So you resolved to only be there for Bucky in his time of need and to simply stay his friend. 

Two Years Later...

         You had a bad feeling about this. The rest of the Avengers were out on other missions, leaving you and Bucky to respond to a tip from somewhere in eastern Europe. Some stoner had been wandering through the woods after some… recreational activities when they had seen “strange military-looking trucks” heading further into the woods. Now, normally people wouldn’t give too much credence to what the high youngster had said, but the area they described was home to a known, although thought to be abandoned, Hydra base. You two had quickly loaded up the Quinjet with all the necessary supplies and your suits and taken off. Bucky locked in the auto-pilot sequence and turned around. You tossed him his suit with a nod of your head as you both turned around and got dressed.

        “You good?” he asked as you propped your foot up on a seat and hunched over to begin to lace the tac boot up.

        “You can turn around,” you responded. Finishing with that a few moments later, you straightened out, almost feeling a sense of comfort in your suit. Your ensemble consisted of black tac boots and pants, not unlike Bucky’s, and a long-sleeved black spandex shirt underneath a bulletproof vest. Nat had tried to convince you to wear a catsuit once, but you only got as far as putting one on and deciding it was definitely not for you. It clung in all the wrong places and you could just feel the major wedgie waiting to happen.

        Well, turns out you had pretty great intuition because, wouldn’t ya know, your bad feeling had meant something. It meant that you and Bucky had been dumbasses for going in alone. Your intel and surveillance had grossly underestimated the total population and size of the base. It was supposed to be mostly abandoned, intel telling you that there was nothing more than a ghost crew present, just enough to keep it running. And Bucky’s reconn indicated that those numbers should have been right. It was supposed to be relatively small, a few hallways, a few rooms, a lab or two with a central control/security room, nothing major. Instead, you got a sprawling, underground maze of hallways that all looked the same and countless rooms with iron doors with as many agents as you could possibly squeeze into the place. Screw base, this was a stronghold. And you and Bucky had gone in with a carefully laid plan that had fallen into pieces when confronted with their overwhelming numbers. Needless to say, the two of you were captured, and, recognizing who Bucky was and inferring who you must be, they decided to hold off on killing you until you answered a few of their questions while strapped to some pretty sturdy-ass, cold, metal chairs.

        Day and night bled together, the lines between dream and reality, waking and unconsciousness were blurred by ever-present pain. After, oh gosh you didn’t even know how long it had been… you decided to call it a long while, a rookie guard had made the mistake of standing too close to you while overseeing one of Bucky’s sessions. The guard had turned as Bucky passed out, his head slumped forward onto his chest. ‘Sick fucker,’ you thought, ‘wanting to get a better view of someone else’s torture. What would your momma say?’ 

        But lucky for you, his desire to get a better view left the side of his leg exposed to you, allowing you to see the knife he kept strapped there. You quickly formulated a plan, knowing you had to act before the guard turned his back towards you completely. So even though the angle wasn’t quite ideal, you reeled back and with all your might head-butted the guard right in his balls. As your chair began to fall forward, you twisted it so that your hand brushed his leg, allowing you just enough to time to snatch the knife out of its holster without him noticing. While he was caught up in his pain, you slid the knife underneath your arm, trapping it between your forearm and the arm of the chair. Just as you finished, the torturer, who had quickly strode over from where Bucky was strapped to his chair with a malicious glint in her eyes, was picking your chair back up, slamming it back onto all four legs. Your eyes met those of the guard, who was looking at you with enough vitriol that you almost felt insulted. It wasn’t your fault they had lousy spacial awareness. The contact was cut swiftly as you experienced a different kind of contact. Namely that between a fist and your face. You could taste blood as your head snapped violently to the side. Waiting until your vision stopped swimming, you wearily turned your head back, already able to feel a nasty bruise forming thanks to a probably fractured cheekbone. Man, that lady had one hell of a right hook. 

        And that was only the beginning. The pummeling that followed was nothing short of absolutely brutal. As she left the room, leaving you and Bucky alone in the room you were being contained in, the guard was forced to reassume his position outside the door. You lingered on the edge of passing out, whether it was from pain or exhaustion, you didn’t know. But you knew you had to stay awake. And, though you dreaded what would happen if this next step went wrong, you knew you had to get someone to come back in there. The only way out was through a door that opened from the outside, a buzzer letting the guard outside know when someone wanted to be let out. So in order to get out, you needed someone else to come in. You managed to maneuver the knife out from under your arm and made quick work of the ropes that were holding you in place. ‘Time to go to work,’ you thought as you swallowed heavily, preparing yourself mentally for what was to come.

To Be Continued...

[gguksgalaxy]

V. Sloth | Horror!Au

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›› Au: Horror / Gore (non canon) ›› Genre: Angst ›› Rating: 18+ explicit (sexual content + violence) ›› Characters: BTS + Reader x PJM ›› Word Count: 3.3k Warnings Include: Psychological distress and manipulation, character death, mild and severe injuries, self sacrifice, fractures, non-con drug usage, paralysis, needles.

You scrambled up. “Guys come one!” you called, going towards Jungkook to help him up. Hoseok and Jin were helping Yoongi up who was limping and groaning in pain. There was blood running down his face, from his eyebrow and his lips, one of his eyes swollen past proportion. It made you sick to your stomach to see him like that.

Jungkook leant on you a little, and you felt him sway probably because he was dizzy from the impact to his eye. You wrapped an arm around his waist, helping him towards the door. You trusted Namjoon in getting Jimin through the door.

The two of you passed through the door and you looked back briefly to find Namjoon trying to comfort a crying Jimin with blood stained hands. You wanted to call out for him, but when he looked up at you, you stopped. The sneer he gave you, the hatred, it hurt.

You turned your back to him, pulling Jungkook along and entering the next room. Yoongi was sat in a corner, Hoseok trying to wipe away some of the blood on his face. You sat Jungkook down, who closed his eyes for a moment just as Jimin and Namjoon stumbled in.

“Here.” You took Jimin’s jacket and grabbed the seems, splitting away the inner lining and then tearing off part of the sleeve. The rest you threw towards Jin. “Use this. Namjoon give me the bottle.”

He gave Jimin a stern looks before handing you the bottle. You poured a little onto the fabric, letting it soak in. When you looked up at Jungkook, there was blood pooling at his lashline. “Oh my god, Jungkook.” You softly pressed the fabric against his eye, trying to soothe most of the ache. Briefly, you pulled away to check him. “This is going to hurt, but I just want to see.” Gently, you took your fingers and pulled his eye open a little. Immediately, blood ran down his cheek and he winced. His whole eye was dark red, bleeding from the trauma. “Can you see?”

Jungkook tried to close his other eyes. “It’s very foggy but it’s not like…gone?”

“Okay, here.” You pressed the wet cloth against his skin again.

Namjoon was whispering something to Jimin, and you briefly looked at Yoongi, who met your gaze and mouthed something. You frowned, and he mouthed again…it seemed like ‘sorry’. You gasped lightly, and swallowed away the tears.

So you mouthed back; ‘it’s okay’.

“Well, what a surprise. I never expected that from you y/n. You really had me fooled as well.” The voice said, and you swallowed thickly. “But welcome! Welcome to the room of Acedia. This is where the procrastinators will suffer for their sins. People like this are lazy, good for nothing, lounging around while they could do better things, while others are working themselves dead day to day. Do you realise how hard some people have it while you’re just being dumb? Not all of us are blessed enough with rich parents or innate talents that let us live an easy life.

“ You know, in hell, those who are punished for this sin are dropped in a snake pit. I considered it you know, snakes are beautiful creatures. However, it would be a bit erratic now wouldn’t it? There’s a chance that too many of you would die at once and I really don’t want that. So I incorporated the snakes somewhere else in the game! Remember the poison inside your bracelets? It’s actual snake venom! Meaning that it wont be an easy and quick death. It’ll burn, immobilise you, and then it will stop your heart.

“Now, for Acedia, also known as Sloth. Not the animal though. The player who shall condone for this sin has one simple task.” The intercom cut out, and you held your breath. No comment came, and you just sat there with Jungkook.

“HEY!” Jimin called, voice hoarse and broken. “SPEAK UP YOU FUCKER!”

The intercom crackled a little for a while, and you sat down next to Jungkook. He leant his head on your shoulder, and you felt almost as if he was colder now. He shivered, and you caught Jimin’s eye, who looked at you, then at Jungkook, only to turn away.

“Y/n?” Jungkook whispered.

“Hmm?”

“You and Yoongi, have you really?” he asked, and you took his hand, squeezing it.

“Shh Kook, shh.” You had no idea whether he was listening to you, whether there were hidden microphones or something.

You’d just lost a friend and your boyfriend in the span of maybe 2 hours. There was no telling how much time had past, but it felt like it was ages since you’d seen the light. Everything was coming down around you. Yoongi could barely walk, Jungkook was at risk of loosing an eye, and who knew what was to come for you.

Then the intercom clapped again. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I seemed to have lost the connection. But we’re all back on track!”  The little girl squealed. “For Sloth. The player who choses to take on the task gets one simple task. Do not, at any time, pass through the door.” What? Someone had to willingly stay behind? “Once you have entered the code the locker will open and you will be presented with a syringe. Inject the liquid from the syringe into your bloodstream and wait for it to take effect. The others may leave anywhere within the 70 minute timespan that starts from the moment the locker opens. But it’s essential that the others do leave before the time ends. The chosen player may not pass through the door. He, or she, is to stay behind.”

Someone had to willingly inject something into their body and stay behind while the others left. “This is so you can experience what it’s like to be in a situation where you want to act, but you can’t. Instead of having to act, but not doing so.”

“The code Acedia is 815. Your seven minutes decision time starts now. Hurry up!” The sound cut out and you looked around. Jimin was purposely avoiding your gaze, and Yoongi was laying in Hoseok’s lap with his eyes closed. He looked small and tired like that.

“Don’t look at him like that.” Jimin snarled.

You sighed deeply. “You can’t tell me what to do Jimin. Let’s all try and stay ca-.”

“STAY CALM?!” He yelled. “You want me to stay calm while I just found out you fucked two, maybe more of my friends behind my back. I loved you y/n, I was ready to start a life with you. I was going to propose soon you know, Taehyung helped me pick out a ring.” He scoffed, but you saw the tears in his eyes. “Fuck  you y/n.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, you didn’t know what to do.

Jin knelt down beside you, touching your shoulder. “We have to decide.”

You nodded. “Yeah, of course. I mean, we can randomise. Or I can stay, I’m creating too much of trouble for all of you after last time.”

“Let Yoongi stay.” Jimin said.

“JIMIN!” Hoseok yelled. “STOP IT!” he sounded angrier than you expected to ever hear from him.

Jungkook moved from his spot by your side, and you watched him stand up and dust of his jeans. “I’m staying.” He said, voice steady and sure.

“What?” Namjoon gasped. “Jungkook no, listen I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself.”

The youngest shook his head. “No, listen. I don’t want to get out of here. If I die here that’s fine. Because I don’t want to walk this god forsaken earth with the idea that I killed taehyung so all of us could live. I can’t, I don’t want to.” He looked down at his feet. “Please let me stay. If it means all of you get to go and live, I’ll do it. You won’t have to feel guilty because it was my own decision. Please just…let me do this.”

You stared at Jungkook, you wanted to tell him no, that he couldn’t just sacrifice himself. But the harsh truth was that you didn’t want to be in his position. Not to stay behind nor to have killed Taehyung. He hadn’t been himself since, which was, honestly understandable. Jimin always said he wasn’t one to easily cry or be down over things, he was a happy kid so to speak. And he’s just been crying, and you didn’t think it would pass.

Jungkook walked over to the locker in the corner of the room and sat down in front of it. “None of you guys can stop me unless you want to stay behind yourself. Because I have to put in the 999 code, so you can’t randomise without me.”

Nobody stopped him, everyone silently watched the youngest of the group twist the numbers until it said 8, 1, 5, and it clicked. There was a beep and the locker opened, everyone just stared. He reached inside, and pulled out a capped syringe, filled with a murky yellow fluid.

“Jungkook?” Jin knelt down beside him, mushing up his almost black hair and pulling him into a hug. It was like something snapped inside of him, he broke, dropping the needle to the floor and hugging Jin as sobs wrecked through his frame. He was a big guy, Jungkook, he and Jimin went to the gym regularly, and in the few years you’d known him he’d really grown up. But to see him like this, crying broken, it made you reach out for him. It made you walk over to the other two, pick up the syringe and put it down on top of the locker.

You put a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, and he detached himself from Jin to look at you. “Y/n?” he mumbled. You softly smiled at him, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s alright Kook.” You whispered. “It’s going to be alright.”

“I just want it to go away.” He cried, the tears from his swollen eye still a little coloured with blood. “It hurts.”

You sighed, reaching for his hand. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

The others came around, sitting with Kook, smiling at him, saying little things that were between them and you didn’t understand. He smiled up at them, he even laughed a little with Hoseok. Stories with Yoongi turned up that you had no idea about, things involving a piano, singing, long nights together at Yoongi’s apartment. Old tales of Jin tutoring him in maths and economics, getting pizza and sitting in Jin’s room with books open and dozens of empties cans of energy drinks.

You sat with them, listened, cried. Jungkook hugged you, held you close, apologised to you. You whispered something into his ear, that you weren’t sure he heard.

He looked at you after that, and nodded, then diverted his gaze towards Jimin. Your boyfriend, if you could still call him that, was sitting in the far corner of the room by himself. He was hugging his knees to his chest, and his eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying. “Jimin.” Jungkook called out.

Jimin looked up, but didn’t move.

“Jimin come here.” But he didn’t move. “Jimin please!” Jungkook almost cried, and stood up, walked over to Jimin and tried to sit down with him. Jimin however, pushed him away, roughly, and sneered a comment you couldn’t fully understand. “Jimin, come on.”

“You fucked my girlfriend, what do you want from me?!” he yelled.

Jungkook almost staggered back at the comment, and you were so afraid he was going to rat you out for the lie, that you walked over and stepped in.

“Listen.” You said to Jimin. “You’re angry, you feel betrayed, I get it. What happened, happened, and it was wrong. Me and Yoongi, that’s a discussion for another day. But Jungkook, he’s your best friend, and me and Yoongi basically talked him into it. We did push him a little, so please just forgive him. He’s your best friend Jimin, this is probably the last time you’ll see him. Do you really want it to be like this?”  you said, and Jimin stared at you with wide eyes. “You’re going to regret that decision.”

You watched tears fall from Jimin’s eyes as he moved over to Jungkook and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. They held each other, and you realised then, Jimin was about to loose his other best friend. You were somewhat convinced that Jimin’s trust in you was broken beyond repair even if you convinced I’m that you’d lied to him.

“When do you think the doors will open?” Namjoon asked, touching your arm to catch your attention.

You frowned. “Probably from the moment he injects the stuff.” You wondered what was inside the syringe, and your mind could come up with a few torturous scenarios that you hoped weren’t true.

Jungkook moved across the room again and picked up the syringe from the locker. “Do you guys mind if I already just…kind of do it? I’m afraid of doing it when I’m alone. I don’t want something weird to happen and that to hold you guys back when you have to go through the door.”

You nodded, and everyone agreed, taking place in the corner by the locker. Everyone was growing hungry, and cold, and thirsty and looking for each other for warmth and comfort. For some reason you actually found yourself with Namjoon, the soft material of the bear onesie he was wearing was nice against your skin. You were never close, but you knew he was such a nice and genuine guy. He’s stayed over at Jimin a few times, and he’s made a reputation of being a bad cook.

Everyone looked at the youngest as he sat cross legged and uncapped the needle. His hangs were trembling so hard that you had trouble properly seeing the needle. “Do I just stab this in?”

You shook your head. “You don’t want to accidentally break the needle or something.”

“Does it matter? I’m going to die anyways.” He said, and you were taken aback.

“Listen.” Yoongi said, his voice was barely distinguishable through his swollen face. Jimin really had gotten him good. “He said into the bloodstream, so I think stabbing would be a wrong decision. Let one of us do it.”

You nodded. “Here, give it to me.”

“You know how to do this?”

“No, but I have steady hands.” You took the syringe from him and grabbed his arm. “Sit still.” The needle was long and thin, and you held him close to his elbow as you pressed it into his skin. You’d never done this before, and it was weirding you out, but you pressed on at an angle. It was sharp, gliding in after the first piercing of the skin that made your skin crawl. You pushed the liquid in, looking as it disappeared. When you pulled it out, a little bit of blood pooled on his skin but he wiped it away.

Then you sat, watching him, waiting for something to happen. He stood up, walked around, jumped, nothing much seemed wrong with him. Until he moved back towards you, and suddenly his legs gave out from underneath him. His knees his the concrete with a sick crack and he screamed in pain. The boys scrambled up, trying to catch him, and you were there next to him when he fell. He supported his weight on his arms. “My legs.” He said through gritted teeth. “I can’t move.”

“Can you feel them?” Namjoon asked, touching Jungkook’s calves.

“Yeah, fuck.” Then his arms started shaking, and you grabbed for him, pulling him closer to you before he fell down further. Everyone saw him deteriorate in seconds. Suddenly he was there, laying in your lap, with his eyes wide open, breathing harshly through his nose, unmoving.

He didn’t speak. There were garbled little sounds coming from his lips that were almost like he couldn’t make a sound anymore. It was a muscle relaxer. Tears were running down his cheeks, and you tried your best to comfort him by stroking your fingers through his hair. His eyes were shaking, going between each of the boys as he laid there, helpless.

Then the click, and the beep, from the door sounded, and it slid open. You all watched it, but you all looked back at Jungkook. He was going to have to lay here, waiting for time to tell whether he was going to be here still or not. He was literally going to have to wait for this venom to take over his lungs or heart, if it did that. It might not act upon those nerves, for all you knew, he could lay here until he died of dehydration. You’d never know.

Jimin was holding his hand, tightly, until his knuckles turned white, and you weren’t sure if it was hurting Jungkook. You realised he maybe couldn’t even close his eyes.

“Jungkook?” Jin said, his voice sudden and small in the room. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave you here like this. This…I can’t.” He shook his head, looking at the others. “I’ll stay.”

“No!” hoseok cried. “You can’t just stay.”

“You want to leave him like this? At least Taehyung got a clean death.” Jin cried. “Look at him.”

Yoongi spat blood out on the floor. “Is there anything else we could do? We can all sit here and be with him until we all die. But it would’ve been for nothing. We have to keep moving.”

You felt Jungkook’s heartbeat, underneath the corner of his jaw. It was so rapid, way too fast, and at this rate he might pass out. Which was for the best maybe. “I’ll stay until the timer goes. I don’t want to unnecessarily leave him alone for too long.” You continued brushing your fingers through his hair. “Taehyung would’ve done that.”

So everyone waited, making small comments, Jimin hummed a soft tune as held Jungkook’s hand. You watched him lay down across from him, looking him in the eyes with tears that just continued to fall. Jin rubbed Jungkook’s back, trying to soothe him and yoongi sat with Hoseok. Namjoon was beside you, playing with the sleeve of his onesie.

Jungkook was such a sweet guy, maybe a little shy at times, and he didn’t deserve this. He killed Taehyung, because his friend begged him to. And now he was staying behind, like this, it couldn’t get worse than this. No pain could be worse than staying behind like this waiting to die.

Then the timer started ticking, suddenly, nobody moved. Everyone stared at Jungkook, who’s eyes slowly slipped closed. The fact that he closed his eyes, almost gave you peace, he wouldn’t have to stare ahead at the door knowing what could’ve been. Maybe he could fall asleep, and maybe even not wake up.

You lifted his head off your lap and felt almost bad about having to put it down on the concrete floor, when Namjoon nudged you.

“Here.” He’s ripped the big hood of his onesie, the bear head, and had folded it up. You watched him slip it under Jungkook’s head.

Jimin grabbed what remained of his jacket, and placed it over Jungkook’s body, in the hope of keeping him warm. “Bye Kookie.” He whispered.

You looked at him, leaning down to press your lips against his temple briefly. Not something you ever thought you’d do, but this was not a time to dwell on those things. “Rest well.” You mumbled.

Everyone whispered a goodbye, as if saying it out loud would make it too real.

Then you all turned your back on him, and passed through the door without looking back.

[scootscootscotty]

odd numbers, idk if it's from all ocs or if you're supposed to specify a group but if so then whichever one kyne and teddy are from

Oh man so Teddy and Kyne are involved with PRETTY MUCH everything so I’ll end up doing all of ‘em basically

1. Meanest vs Kindest Norton is the meanest - he has a short fuse and is quick to point out flaws, and is usually kind of cranky. Kindest is probably Caedryn - they’re sweet and soft and PROBABLY incapable of a mean thought.

3. Humble vs ArrogantThe most humble is either Zeke or - again - Caedryn. Both are the soft, quiet and quick to avoid drawing attention or talking themselves up. The most arrogant is absolutely Somnium. This isn’t even a contest he would own the world if he could and tries to in a few settings.

5. Chaste vs LustfulOh. oh. Uh. The most chaste is either Astaroth or Illani - I mean, Astaroth is also ace (or demisexual or something) so that’s part of it but he’s also just like that. Illani is just… he’s an innocent thing, he doesn’t seem capable of a lewd thought without blushing up to his ears. Lustful is uh. A few. Kato or Faolán come to mind at the top, because both are very openly kinky fuckers (is it a thing with pink haired guys?? its a thing, apparently) but Kyne is definitely up the list too. 

7. Happiest vs SaddestHappiest would be a tie between Magnus and Cerridwyn - both are very bright, cheerful and positive people, and are hard to get down, Magnus in a quieter softer sort of way and Ceri in a loud and shiny kind of way. Saddest would be Zeke, definitely. He tends to get stuck in bad circumstances, and ends up quite often a bit of a mess for it. He also is k i n d o f my dump character and I tend to write him working through emotions when I’m in a bad place so that also is a thing that contributes to it OOPS.  

9. Darkest vs Lightest backstorySO AS I WAS SAYING - Zeke has the overall darkest backstory. Apart from being my dump character that I put through emotions when I’m feeling bad, he has a tendency towards addiction and ending up in abusive situations, whether that be family or a boyfriend, though he ENDS UP Good places later on. He’s consistently put into backstories where he’s had to pull himself back up out of things, and his character’s theme if I were to pick one is generally “recovery”, so with that said he ends up coming from some pretty awful places. The lightest backstory is hard to place - I have a good number of characters who do come from generally positive places in their background. Maybe Roka? He’s a space-cutie and usually has very well off / influential parents and they love him a lot and he’s usually someone happy for it.

11. Most Ticklish vs Cruelist ticklerI don’t really know the answer to this one because tickling as a concept makes me uncomfortable,,, 

13. Forgiving vs GrudgefulI think Xiu might be the most forgiving - they don’t really seem like someone who holds grudges. Grudgeful is probably Norton? He’s just an angry person and can carry a grudge forever LOL

15. Optimistic vs PessimisticI think the most optimistic one I have might be Cerridwyn. She’s just bright like that, keeps thinking of the good stuff even when she’s having her heart crushed LOL. Pessimistic would be u h  h h h   h  Amir, probably. He tends to just be pessimistic in a deadpan sort of way. 

17. Judges a book by its covers vs Judges by mostly personalityNorton or Ffion are both quick to judge way too quickly, Norton probably the most though. The one to judge most by personality would beeeeee Radovan or Dáire but for very different reasons - Dov because he’s very good at reading people and looks for that, and Dáire because they’ll be patient and listen.

19. Castiron stomach vs most squeamishI think this first one is a tie between Ru and Galahad. Both seem like they could deal with anything without barfing. Most squeamish might be Cae? They really can’t deal with anything well though. 

21. Religions vs non-religiousI don’t really consider any of my characters to be strongly religious, except for maybe Somi’s religious worship of Neph’s thighs /eyes emojiAlso neph is a god in some settings so that’s a thing LOL 

23. Self caring vs self destructiveThe most self caring would probably be Dáire? They’re very good at just doing their best to take care of themselves (and others around them) (no matter the cost /EYES EMOJI). Most self destructive is possibly Zeke for above mentioned reasons. 

25. Outdoorsy vs IndoorsyOutdoorsy is Galahad - he l o v e s adventure and outdoors and stuff, but so do a few of my characters. Indoorsy is Cae - they are generally terrified of going outside of any comfort zone, and often stay inside or wherever their current comfortable place is. They do, however, go elsewhere with others, if prompted or there’s something they want (like dragons)

[gamesoffate]

The Darker Grey: Arc1 Ses8

[Watch P1 Here] [Watch P2 Here] [Watch P3 Here]

Mission/Session Eight

Oh look, it’s my fucking turn again to spin the tale of our daily life in the big bad Greyhounds. Such a fucking waste of time but whatever…HERE WE GO YOU DICKBAGS!

Alright, since we are going by chronological order, I wasn’t exactly there for this situation. Our good moron Percy explaining what wonderful thing he got himself into. Apparently while we were out dealing with Mike, our dearly departed dip shit of a leader that now lies riddled with bullets…Good riddance. 

But yeah back to the thing that happened. Percy wakes up chained to some bed in some normal ass looking room. Sure that’s nothing new for him but yeah. The young library wench that we took the money from places a curse on him that he can’t steal anymore, throwing sawdust all over him and shit. Magic is fucking weird and stupid but yeah. She says he will be cursed until he pays her back completely. Her motive other than that was that she found out we blinded that old bag Mag who ran that mystic shop. Old bitch would have died soon anyway, what’s wrong with being blind for the rest of her short years? People are soo fucking whiny. So yeah only the library bitch is the only one that can take the curse off. 

Percy, of course agrees to do this, not known for manning up to anything. Apparently she claps and his dumb ass wakes up in front of the QBF covered in dew and shit.

So this is when the rest of this group including the awesome mother fucker writing this piece of shit report is sitting in the usual spot. There’s a crying woman, Itniss’ gf or whatever but nobody bothers to ask what is up. Like we would give a shit anyway. Itniss is comforting her though. How cute. I’m not rolling my eyes. 

Sincere, that little wimpy shit comes up to us and with his usual little weak ass self. He asks Hazel who I just ragged about losing her eye that Rolan, his dead friend was supposed to be in some tournament and asks her to take his position in the fight because she’s strong and since his dead bf died, he would have to fight and we all know that wouldn’t end well. Useless twat. She says ‘we’ll see’. Apparently the tournament is this afternoon so she doesn’t have much time to decide.

Percy then asks the million dollar question about her missing eye then she redirects it to me. I’m not going to tell some absent doucher what happened so I withheld the info. Percy has no idea where he went apparently and neither do we. I just assumed he ran away like a little bitch as always. 

Percy then explains the events that happened, already explained above. I aint writing it again, for the love of fuck. So the genius I am says we should just force them to take off the curse. My gun is good for this sort of thing. I remember her being a little mouse so shouldn’t be a problem. Percy says they need the money and I we agree as long as we get it back. We can always kill the bitch and take it. No big deal.

I’m feeling proud still having come from the successful night of killing that useless prick Mike so I had to brag cause hell yeah! Fuck that guy! 

Then the front door blasts open and Boss lady comes stomping in with her samurai wannabe ass partner (one of those ooh so amazing Alpha’s). They are arguing about some stupid shit and rules and yada yada I don’t know what the fuck they are on about. They push past my druggie I brought on board and Toshiro uses his token ‘bitch tits’ line. Articulate.  They go upstairs, talking about compromise. Idfk.

Yunam is just about to leave when Rajeet comes up to our table or as I like to call him, boss number three. He stops Yunam and nudges his head back to the table. Boss 3 tries to give us a mission but we talk about sorting the curse out first. He calls it a personal problem and gives us some mission about getting in the good graces of the Mayor of the mines, his royal sootness! Apparently now we can’t be found responsible for killing any officials or some shit. I was losing interest. Details, details. 

Our mission for the night is to go to some scrap metal factory that turns shit to weapons, located out in the boonies. We are simply to fuck the place up so it doesn’t work anymore. Simple shit, nothing more. I ask questions and he gets bitchy, bringing up my dead father that I shot through the fucking chest with a shot gun. Wouldn’t mind doing the same to this Boss 3. Stupid prick. 

We go to get Yunam to help with the whole curse shit. We got upstairs, me and Percy. Little boy is napping…of course. We hear noises from a room, rage induced voices. Hopefully not Boss 1 and 2 having angry sex or some shit. We get closer and hear them arguing that this is a partnership even as Anakah is becoming true alpha, Grey dog. 

Anakah is sticking up for our group saying we are worthy of being Beta’s but Toshiro disagrees the dumb ass hat. Toshiro goes on about it taking others years to become Beta’s and we have only been there for a few days. Anakah sticks by her decision but then Toshiro says it’s just cause she likes us. Then it’s a pissing contest between them about being jealous and shit. 

Percy finally knocks and Toshiro answers and grunts like a caveman with less brains. I of course greet him with ‘What’s up bitch?’ We ask to speak to Anakah, the he slams the door and she opens it again. Percy asks for the money needed for the lifting of the curse. She says as long as we will return it. Like we would let them keep it. I ask for my spear, the one she said she would have given back to me. So get this, she fucking tells me to ask Boss 3. FUCKING REALLY?! Go fucking figure! She’s way too busy dealing with the bloodhounds and shit to keep her word to me. 

Apparently while we were coming back down, Sincere bugs Hazel again about the tournament. She agrees for half the prize after she finishes her drink. Guess she can only see half the situation. Whatever.

I ask about one eye going with us to take the curse off Percy. She says nah, probably still upset about losing the eye. Boo fucking hoo! No need for her anyway. Then I go up to Boss 3 Rajeetbag. Apparently the stupid fuck sold it. I’m this close to pistol whipping his stupid fucking face but yeah can’t do that! How un grey houndly! He asks Sincere about the spear. Sincere is scared of boss 3 apparently. They agree to go to the marketplace after the tournament. I demand the little wimp Sincere to get it back and he starts fucking crying. As much as I love being feared, this is fucking pathetic. 

We come to an agreement and Rajeet gives me the money to get the spear back. They go to the tournament while we go to the library. We arrive at the library and I stand outside while Percy goes in to deal with this cause me showing up would not make it easy. Plus I don’t give a shit. I’m to listen out and make sure Percy doesn’t get dragged out. The usual. 

Percy goes and talks to Petunia and tries to get the curse off, they try it once and Percy attempts to steal and fails miserable, looking much like the fool he is. He goes back and she wants to try again but apparently he’s sick of it and tries to use blue spirit magic to take it and fails. What a loser. 

By this point I go around the back and climb this chimney closed off for their renovation, though it’s rough to climb I make it to the window cause I’m Nazeem and look in to see this shit going on. 

At this point he has failed the blue spirit thing and she screams while throwing books. The other library bitch comes up and asks what’s going on. Percy notices me and just as a book hits his stupid fucking face, he says I’m the one who stole the money and I jump in to end this stupid bullshit, pulling my trusty gun out. I demand they both get to the back and to take the stupid curse off. If she fails I will kill her. 

Apparently it works, dumbass testing his returning stealing skills on me, taking my compass without me knowing. We demand the money back, threateningly, the only way to handle anything. Percy takes the book. I scare the shit out of them and they give me the key to the money and we get it back. Mission success. I threaten them again along with their families for good measure so they don’t try some shit like this again. 

With that finished, we return to the QBF and give the money back then head to the tournament which is held in some stable. People are fighting in this make shift ring, the usual lumbering, big moron type. There is some fancy person in a purple dress with blonde hair. She looks important. 

But yeah two guys are fighting, one very fat and the other muscular when Percy and I show up right when the fat ass of the two knees the other so hard there is some loud ass crunch. The muscular dude goes down. A little boy takes ten fucking minutes to pull the muscular dude away. 

Hazel is told to take to the ring. Rules are simple enough, don’t step out of the circle. Hazel has to fight fat ass now. Reward is money and some nice gloves. 

I decide to threaten Sincere, saying if Hazel loses imma kill him with my arm around him. I keep it there. He trembles but then stiffens saying he believes in Hazel. Uhuh. We shall see. 

The two in the ring circle one another, not doing a damn fucking thing. I thought this was supposed to be a damn fight! Hazel finally provokes the big fucker and he charges at her but she ducks out of the way with ease and he slides out of the circle and bonks his stupid head in the wall. And it’s over. I want my money back. This wasn’t a fight at all. How anticlimactic. I tell Sincere he gets to live another day as pointless that is for him. 

The little boy lifts her arm and says she wins and calls her fury. Cyclops would have been a better fighter name. Libby, the purple lady not lady brings Hazel the trophy and gloves. 

Sincere holds onto the trophy and money with a stupid smile on his face like he did it himself. This fucking idiot is a greyhound. 

Next up is to get my fucking spear back. Hazel asks Sincere about half her cut when we are leaving. I help her out by making Sincere give her more than half, the more he was trying to keep for himself. Kids these days. Sincere cries per the norm and I tell him to shut the fuck up. Parenting 101. 

We leave and arrive at some outside market. Looks like a run down cheap ass place. My spear better be fucking here. I go ask the weapon tent owner about the spear and once again I’m told it’s not where it should be, that she sold it to Libby, purple person. 

Yunam apparently bought some gloves and sold his stolen tomatoes for money. Percy goes and buys a fucking crab at a fish stand. A fucking crab named Fred apparently! Seriously, this is fucking stupid. Hazel buys greaves too before we all leave. 

We make it back to the stable/fight club. Nobody seems to be there. Percy goes into another area and finds Libby and we ask about the spear. At first we can’t find it in the storage room and then Hazel in her old cop ways even with one eye missing notices footsteps leading from the storage room. I’m soo fucking livid at this point considering we STILL HAVEN’T FOUND THE FUCKING SPEAR! I fucking hate this fucking cat and mouse BULLSHIT! 

Hazel follows the footprints and they find two guys hiding behind one of the horses. They see us and one says he can explain everything. Then he tries to run and Hazel clotheslines him and Percy captures him. Other guy hiding asks if they want the spear. Of fucking course I do! For fuck sakes this is such a pain. Everyone is such a fucking moron!

He asks them to let them go. I scare him into giving the spear over which he does willingly all the while nearly pissing his pants no doubt along with his money. I ask for the other guys money too and get it. They ask if we are going to arrest us cause they know Hazel was a cop or some shit. Then we find out they were the ones in the bank robbing it on the same day as us for the spear. Funny how life works out huh? 

Hazel then lets them go, giving them a lesson not to steal again or they have to deal with her. Before they go however, we ask who they were getting the spear for and why. They proclaim themselves the STICKY PAWS and we let them go…seriously what a stupid fucking name. 

They are about to leave with the spear when Libby asks for her money back cause she bought the spear back fair and square. We come to an agreement that Sincere give her back the trophy and it’s square. He gives a sob story about how his friend Rolan was the fighter and his best friend, beating all the big guys and wants the trophy to remember him by. Must have been his bf or some shit. I wasn’t falling for it, just seemed like utter horse shit to me. Memories are there to remember someone by, no need for a trophy. 

Sincere tries to say he will pay Libby back some other way cause he’s a Greyhound. Libby does not fall for it and asks for the trophy and after standing there crying SOME MORE, he hands it off to her. 

Libby tells Hazel that she is welcome to come back and fight cause she has talent unlike Sincerely gets his ass kicked. Yeah of course. I bet if he was on the other side of her, Hazel wouldn’t have won that fight. 

I tell Sincere not to worry we will get him another trophy then walk away laughing maniacally. I’m quite proud of that one. Sincere then says what happened to Yunam. Of course he’s not here anymore. He hopes the boy doesn’t get attacked by the sweepers again-the mask freaks. He says they attack a certain type of people. But Yunam is a kid and that’s all we know about him so who the fuck knows why they attacked him. 

Hazel finds Yunam’s footprints where he had sneaked away from us probably for some inane reason. We follow Cyclops. Percy uses the line I used on Libby when she found me trying to steal the trophy back  in just a dead pan voice. After getting the spear back I was in a good enough mood to accept his stupid ass compliment. 

We follow Hazel who follows the footprints back to the QBF…SHOCKER! Yunam is apparently napping and only woken by Toshiro who tells him its time for his writing lesson. 

Percy gives his crab friend, Fred to Crazy Cooke and he loses his shit and goes to prepare it. Hazel goes to check on Yunam and I get bothered by my druggie that I got to join about drugs. I ask for money and he just goes on about drugs. Literally….this goes on for too long….

I’m fucking tired of writing this bullshit so imma stop here. I’ll leave whoever’s next to write the rest of this crap. I hope you find this report useful! Hah, just kidding! I don’t give a flying fuck! Have an awful day!

[fanficsofmine]

Chasing Ghosts: Prologue, Chapter 1

Chasing Ghosts Chapter 2

Yixing POV: My head dipped with a dizzy drunkenness. I was fighting to keep my eyelids open. The bottle of whiskey I had finished was still clutched in my hand as I sat in an uncomfortable hotel room chair. Chanyeol and Junmyeon were bullshitting about where Junmyeon had been since he left.

“I’m glad you saw Sehun’s family,” Chanyeol grabbed his shoulder and reassured him.

It was tiresome, caring for people. I had had my fill of emotions today. I was letting Yeol handle the emotional shit now. I stayed back and watched the interaction.

It was more comfortable for me to avoid growing overly fond of people. My family had always been distant. Chanyeol had been the only constant friend I had. He was initially as annoying as a leech. I tried to shake him.

The dumbass always had too big of a heart. He always told me he couldn’t let me eat alone or sit by myself in classes.

It’s why he grew so fond of her. The daughter of the most significant crime boss this town had ever seen would fall for Park Chanyeol. It was hard not to like the guy. He was too kind for his own good. I had hoped to beat some of it out of him with our Fight Club. That never took.

I watched him, intently. I was studying his face and his reactions tonight. I knew this bold face was a façade. He still wept at night. Sometimes, he would go days with only a couple of hours of sleep. He had his signature Chanyeol grin slapped on, but I always saw the corners waver. He was barely holding it together.

I had never seen Chanyeol love like that before. He’d had plenty of girlfriends, but she changed his life. There was something about her that made him instantly fall in love with her.

I knew that feeling. I had felt it for her, too.

I had chocked it up to Chanyeol as nothing more than being jealous that she had chosen him over me. It was so much more, though.

I missed hearing her laugh. I missed her voice echoing through the house when she would pick up Chanyeol. I hated that we never got to finish that semester sitting next to each other. She had unlocked a part of my heart that I had never felt before. My bitter, dark world was made light.

The moment she had walked into our classroom that day, my heart had burst. I knew that I needed to get to know her. I had never so strongly been pulled to another human. She was stunning. She had smiled when asking if she could take the seat next to me. I nodded, unable to form other words.

Who the hell was this girl? Nobody had made me feel this way before.

Chanyeol brought be back from reminiscing by saying her name. It shook something inside of me, and I stood up suddenly. The chair slid back against the wall, startling the other two.

“I need some fucking fresh air,” I muttered. I grabbed my jacket and threw the hotel room door open.

I wandered around the parking lot, aimlessly. I cursed the universe, silently and out loud, for giving me a soulmate that had a soulmate that wasn’t me. I kicked rocks. I pulled at my hair. I threw the empty whisky bottle on the ground that I hadn’t realized I brought with me. It shattered. The number of tiny pieces it broke into still felt more whole and complete than I did right now.

It was the first time that I was releasing any type of emotion since the entire ordeal had occurred.

I turned at one point, shocked to see Chanyeol standing, staring at me. His jaw was slightly agape. He had never witnessed me this broken before.

Tears brimmed my eyes. I threw my arms out and shouted, “what the fuck are we doing?”

He cocked his head to the side. It was a very “Chanyeol” mannerism.

“Do you really think we can take down the Kim Family? Or are we on some sort of suicide mission?!”

Surprisingly, he chuckled.

“Does it change your mind either way, Yixing?”

I returned the laughter.

“I guess fucking not.”

We stood there, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off of my face. It was as though he was seeing me for the first time, even though he was the only person who had ever seen me express any type of real emotion ever.

“You loved her a lot,” he whispered finally.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and shrugged. There was no point in denying it. Chanyeol could read me like a book.

Before I could answer, though, the sound of squealing tires caught our attention. A black Range Rover skid into the parking lot. I recognized the car immediately, and screamed for Chanyeol to dive.

We hid behind the park cars as the sound of gun fire filled the air. Bullets struck metal and crushed car windows.

I heard the car stop, but signaled at Chanyeol to not move. A familiar voice filled the air.

“I had heard rumors that you were back in town. Didn’t actually believe that you had the balls to show back up,” Jongin’s voice rang out.

“That’s big talk for someone who had the shit beat out of them at our last meeting,” I retorted.

“Don’t fucking encourage him jackass,” Chanyeol spit at me.

Jongin laughed.

“I’m not here to kill you, morons,” he paused, “yet. This is a warning from Kim Taehyung. Leave right fucking now, and he won’t track you down. Stay and try something, and he will fill the streets with your blood.”

“That’s a bit of a dramatic trope, don’t you think,” I called back out.

Jongin let out a hearty laugh as I heard the car door slam behind him and he got back in.

“Your best bet is to listen. Leave now. It’s what Kim’s daughter and Sehun would want. Don’t be fucking selfish and make their deaths in vain.”

He drove away, and we stood up. Junmyeon ran out of the room once he saw that the coast was clear.

“Was that Jongin,” he fumed.

“Yeah,” my fingers curled into fists, “I’m gonna make killing that mother fucker my first goal of this trip.”

[baereaved]

All of the odd-numbered OC asks!! >:3c

u devil~ thank u for all the asks omg

send me some oc questions~

1. Your first OC ever?

kairos. i think. probably.well in all honesty i had plenty of self-inserts before him OTL OTL OTL but i think  he was the first proper oc i madei might just think he was first bc he was the first one i hallucinated, but eh. he’s been around a good while

3. Have you ever adopted a character or gotten a character from someone else?

i haven’t omgstraight up didn’t know that was even, like, a thingsomeone let me adopt ur child

5. If you could make only one of your OCs popular/known, who would it be?

screamsmorgan, probablyi mean u can’t rlly know morgan w/o knowing the other dozen ppl in his universe anyways sOplus he’s adorable and important to me, so who better, reallyi feel like he’d be the one i’d write about if i was gonna, like, make a book or webcomic or smth

7. Are your OCs part of any story or stories?

in the sense that i’ve made them up, then yesand in the sense that some of them are ocs for other actual stories, then also yesin the sense that i’ve ever written anything for them, absolutely noti’m way too lazy to write OTL OTL OTL

9. Would you ever be willing to give any of your OCs to someone else?

i mean someone can take catboy if they really want them like they were a Mistakebut for the most part i quite like having them all to myself lolololol

11. Is there any OC of yours you could describe as a “sunshine”?

jesúswhich makes sense, considering his namesakein my mind when i made him i was like “if ur gonna name him jesus u can’t be givin him all the perfect traits like he still needs flaws and things” and then that just. didn’t happenhe is sweet and gentle and quiet and kindand also he’s traumatized and terrified of acting out and he screams in his sleepbc i’m a terrible person and i love to torment my smol kids

13. Do you have any troublemaker OCs?

god, all of themcielle, notably, since she will fuck u up and also. winters. she’s literally my dgm oc whose general is winters and they get along terrifyingly well, so. yes.also katrina and benji and dessa and hendrik and reese and rien and nyla and listen, i could go on

15. Do you like to talk about your OCs with other people?

yes, absolutelyi also enjoy it when ppl tell me abt their ocs, mostly so i can grill them for oc info lololol

17. Any OC OTPs?

jesús and luc, dessa and shiv, olivia and ekundayo, rien and the sweet embrace of deathi rlly need more couples so, like, subject to change

the rest are under the cut~

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why)

i don’t think i even could pick oneumi haven’t mentioned enlil yet, i suppose, and i mean? he’s not very developed, but he brings me an indescribable amount of peace when i talk/think about him, soi’m not actually sure if it’s okay for me to use that name, but eh. if not people can yell at me and i’ll change it. names are hard sometimesbut anyways i don’t have much of anything on him? he’s deaf. generally pretty calm and relaxed. like shiv, except actually a good personidk what it is abt him, he just?? puts me at peace? makes me feel good? like i only made him last year but he’s like, the personification of what nostalgia feels likeso he’s really important to me just bc of how comforting he is. like just thinking abt him could probably get me out of an anxiety attack

21. Your most artistic OC

santa is my nameless oc (as in, the game. he clearly has a name) so 1. he is art and 2. he is an artist himself lol, mostly a painterhelena is pretty artistic too, and is a sculptor

23. Introduce OC that has changed from your first idea concerning what the character would be like?

already answered~

25. The OC that resembles you the most (same hobby, height, shared like/dislike for something etc?)

listen okay all of them started out as self-inserts. all of them. they’re all at least partially based off me.i’ve been thinkin abt this for an hour and i still can’t come up with anything OTL i’m p similar in different ways to all of them, so i’ll have to leave it at that lol

27. Any OCs that were inspired by a certain song?

already answered~

29. Which one of your OCs would go investigate an abandoned house at night without telling anyone they’re going?

nyla, for fun, and benji, bc he’s Cool and Edgy and mr. survivalist who would probably be an actual detective if he wasn’t, like, 14

31. Pick one OC of yours and explain what their tumblr blog would be like (what they reblog, layout, anything really)

i was gonna talk abt my bae rosaire here but he’d be a youtuber, somona is my edgy 13 yr old bab who would probably have a blog full of anarchist shit and different alternative rock lyric postsalso, she’d be part of that shoplifting side of tumblr

33. Your shyest OC?

rosetta nicoletteshe’s the softest and purest and everyone needs to protect her

35. Any sibling characters?

pollux and isabela……i think that’s it. i need more siblings asap

37. Introduce an OC who is not quite human

santa’s a doll. dessa and shiv are a demon and angel, respectively. i have a couple other angel charas too that don’t have names yet but are gorgeous, so |D also all my space charas aren’t human. opluxx is an ogre. i think. catboy is self-explanatory.

39. Introduce any character you want

ekundayo is my beautiful bab and also olivia’s long-distance gfi haven’t done a ton of development on her but i love her bc listen they’re one of those relationships where olivia is literally the most stoic intense fucker around who will kill u and ekundayo is the purest and softest around everyone but then u see them together and olivia’s obviously happy and totally whipped by her sweet but also unexpectedly dom gf and i love them, okay

41. Has anyone drawn fanart of your OCs? If yes, maybe show a picture or two here (remember sources & permissions!)

well. yes, but we had a falling out since then, so i feel it’d be wrong to post it herei’d love to see some more fanart of my ocs~ i should commission smth from someome sometime

43. Do you have any certain type when you create your OCs? Do you tend to favour some certain traits or looks? It’s time to confess

already answered~

45. A character you no longer use?

o'malley johnson, valentia, kiriko and akumukiriko and akumu were my old bleach ocs, o'malley johnson was just a kickass dude, and valentia was my stereotypical yandere childsimce i don’t care for bleach anymore and i don’t have universes for valentia or o'malley johnson, i haven’t done much w/ them, but i still like the last two

47. Has anyone ever (friendly) claimed any of your OCs as their child?

i don’t think so? maybe. hmu

49. Which one of your OCs would most likely enjoy memes

god, rienrien would be the worst anti-sjw shitty memelord and i ha te