#why isn't that what matters? why must i spend my time writing a paper that in the end will only serve as a way to express my thoughts?

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

i'm allowed to humanize sculpture i'm allowed to sexualize sculpture i'm allowed to acknowledge that being created just to be viewed is inherently exhibitionistic and that one as a viewer forfeits their uninvolvement by stepping into the role of a voyeur when they look upon what is there to be looked upon

[lovinglettersacrosstheverse]

Special Delivery!

We've got a letter for Louise Worth @mysweetlouise! And there's even some pressed flowers! 💖💕

My Dear Lou.

How long will you make me wait? Dancing on the edge of my reach with the one you know I despise most? I know you enjoy games but hasn’t this gone on long enough?

A part of me feels this is my own fault. Some form of punishment for the state I left you in. I wish you knew how much it has tormented me over the years. Knowing what was only a second in the world was decades in the mirror with Damien and Celine, I can’t imagine how alone you must have been. How much time you spent alone, trapped. The centuries we will never know. You did not deserve that. Which is why I don't understand why you keep playing with Mark. It’s not the same Mark, fine, but they all have that same seed of narcissism inside them that lead to our fates.

We could make a home in this new reality, if you would only give me the chance. I haven't made one without you yet, not really. There’s a building where I meet with others, unusual like us. I have a room with a bed here, but I do not rest. If you were here, it would give the old bed purpose and I would keep you company. The affection of Damian and curiosity to know you of Celine live on in me, memories of you that are not mine haunt me. Your face is what I see most nights Louise, before everything went wrong, the college days, the games, the late walks across the college grounds. 

And the look in the mirror when you were left behind. I don’t know which one is worse.

Please! I have been tortured enough, join me and we will make sure Mark receives the same punishment as I or better yet, ensure he can’t hurt another soul when he next feels the need. While I drown in the past of our fury and pain, he lives on free of his sins. 

I’ve taken a breath and a moment of reflection. This isn't about him. This is about you and me. And you deserve better than you have ever gotten, Lou. I want to be the one to provide that for you, we can provide a better life and a better future for each other. You never truly got to be the D.A. in our past life, but you can be anything in our future. Not just playing a role, a meaningless game where nothing matters as you do now. We can make something with substance that actually counts for something. But I can’t do it without you.

Maybe I sound like a fool. We haven’t gotten the chance to re-familiarize ourselves with each other in some time, despite how long we’ve had. You’re a different person by now as well, I imagine. I wonder how many habits you still have from the past. What new ones I could learn about you. 

When you tire of your current circumstances, remember that my door is always open and a new home of our own making ready to be built. 

Sincerely,

Your Ever Waiting Darkiplier

Well, there is one more thing....

I also found a torn paper in the mailbox today, it looks like a journal page? I'm not sure this is supposed to be here... but I think its for a Louise Worth as well so maybe i am supposed to deliver it!

It’s late now. I’m in my office, reading the most recent report from the Jim’s when the radio changed. It started playing this slow jazz and these memories came to my mind, unbidden. Damien's memories of you, late nights listening to jazz as you both studied for exams. A record you’d put on the phonograph that became his go to for focusing on work in the years after. The years apart as you all worked for your separate goals, when Damien would spend these nights wishing for your company once again. Lou.

You're not even here. I write only for myself, a page i will tear and burn when I have the chance. But still, writing to you makes it easier somehow. Calms me in these moments.

This body always aches, and I can imagine at one point the heart would ache for you. If I told you it still did, you would know better than to believe me, wouldn’t you? I saw it in your eyes the last time we met, your silent regard for me. You're getting wiser to the situation. I can’t fool you into thinking the Damien you knew is still in here anymore, can I? Nor can I convince you that being as I am, I can feel anything other than rage and resentment. Perhaps the resentment I feel towards Mark for making that promised future of you and Damian working together side by side once again is a form of love itself?

But it’s not even by his remnants you stand by now is it?

Do you have any idea what it’s like to be in a body constantly in a state of decay? I feel the pull of death over me constantly, trying to drag me away like a fist around my throat, never tightening more than it is but never loosening either. And yet you’re out there in your own new skin, where did it come from?

(Note from here to the * was originally all scribbled out but i managed to make it readable... though maybe I should have left it)

Do you want me to apologize for leaving you there? None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for him, I am trying to get revenge for us all!

And now you go and have your little adventures with that monster! In practically every reality, you two are connected in some way, you really think any Mark in any other universe is any different than the one who did this to us? This is why you couldn’t stay! You’re too soft, you weren’t angry enough at the right people. You are the exact fool Celine pegged you for that night, all those years ago. 

How did you get a new body? How, how, who did you take it from, where did you get it, why do YOU have one?*

I apologize. You know how this unstable amalgamation of my being can be. I'm getting better at controlling it over the years, but I still have my moments. Can you not lend a hand to an old friend?  Or perhaps those old tales you told Damien once were true, and this is my repentance for breaking a mirror?

No, perhaps you're right. And there is more to atone for on my end. You should not have been pushed out. I was blinded by the mission of my birth. Clearly I underestimated your strength and resolve, if the way you stand against me and the endurance of your soul is anything to go by.

We are still old friends, aren’t we? You were there when I was created, the first face I saw and even behind whatever cloaks me now, still the face I see in every mirror and reflection. What some might say should be guilt or softness I should feel at that is as all things, replaced with the rage of knowing why I carry you with me in such a literal way…

I wish to confide in you one thing Louise, that I barely confide in myself. There’s one other feeling I'm capable of that sits so deep within me it’s but a grain of sand in the void fractures that make up my sewn together soul. Fear. I am the living testament to their hatred and thirst for revenge. If, when I see their retribution through, then what? What will become of me? Will I have any purpose? Will I continue to exist at all? What will be left when there is no one left to despise? You are the only one I can think of to ask. How did you survive the void of the mirror for so long that you escaped? What feeling motivated you? What purpose?

I shouldn’t keep bringing up old wounds, but what else can I do as a living scab of a soul myself? It is only this mission that keeps this broken body together.

If you just let me in, I can fix all of this. Just let your old friend in Lou.

[dragon-kazansky]

Yes, sir! | Niki Lauda

Professor Lauda AU! 👨‍🏫

Gender neutral reader

Dedicated to @lieutenantn and @scuttle-buttle

I'm using the first names of people I know in real life for the friends, so I apologise if you share the same name 😅

And thank you @scuttle-buttle for letting me make references to your fic 'The interpretation of dreams'

Some of my German translations may be wrong, I'm still learning 🥺

[Next chapter]

Part 1

You sat outside on campus. Your classes didn't start until tomorrow, but your friends started today. You agreed to meet them for lunch. You hadn't been sat outside for too long when they came out. Upon seeing you, they rush over, smiling.

"Lucky you with your extra day off," Katie says, grinning. She was studying music. This girl and her guitar were a force to be reckoned with, that's for sure.

"It's only one day," you laugh.

"One day more than we got," Michael added. When it came to computers, you knew no one better.

"Still, must be exciting not that you've started your classes. I'm not scheduled until tomorrow."

"Speaking of, what did you even pick? You never actually told us," Michael asks, sitting down next to you.

"Literature and languages."

"Ooo, look at you with your 2 subjects," Katie laughs.

"Just wait until I can tell you fuck off in other languages, then we'll see who's laughing," you grin.

"Funny. Can we go eat now?"

You nod and the lot of you go to the nearest cafe for lunch. The Red Wing is a nice little place to meet with friends and catch up, and it was really close to the university.

You grab a table near the window while Michael goes to order for everyone.

"Do you want to know who your Professors are going to be?" Katie asks, pulling out her phone.

"You know?"

"You can see the teachers on the website, I can check for you," she says, already signing into the website.

You say nothing and try to peek at the screen as she searches for the right page.

Michael returns and takes a seat.

"Uh oh," Katie says, looking at her phone strangely.

"Uh oh? Why uh oh?"

She looks at you with a bitter expression.

"Your language professor... you have Professor Lauda," she tells you.

"Professor Lauda? Why is that uh oh?"

Michael and Katie share a look.

"He's, uh... he's a bit of a perfectionist. Kind of strict. He has thrown students out of his class if they haven't kept up with assignments or he thinks they're just wasting time," Michael tells you.

"Oh, I see. I'm sure it will be fine. I'm taking languages because I want to."

Katie shrugs, "well, your funeral."

You narrow your eyes at her. They were making it out as if he was some demon teacher who worked here. You were sure it would be fine.

"What about my other professor?"

"Professor Barnes? He's alright. Cute. People like him," Katie sighs.

"There we go then. I'll be fine!"

Michael and Katie share a look again. You roll your eyes and ignore them as your food arrives.

You're back at your apartment early, in time for an early night so you can be refreshed for your classes tomorrow.

You weren't worried about what your friends had said. You were sure you could handle what ever this Professor Lauda would throw at you.

You arrive to your literature class early. Professor Barnes is friendly and welcomes you into his class. You take a seat near the front and wait for the other students to arrive.

When everyone has settled, the class starts.

Barnes introduces himself, introduces you the schedule for the term, and spends a bit of time getting to know his class. He makes a joke here and there. He's definitely going to be a favourite yours, you just knew you would enjoy his classes.

He dismisses you all with a gentle smile.

You have some time before your languages class. For some reason a lite bit of dread settles in. You really wanted to do well here, but what if you didn't? Would he actually kick you off the course?

Michael was able to meet up with you as you made your way to your next class. He had just left his class cor the day when he saw you on the way to yours.

"Hey!"

You stop and let him catch up with you.

"On your way to Lauda's class?"

"Yes."

"I think it's very brave of you to take this risk," he says, placing his hand on your shoulder.

You roll your eyes.

"You're over exaggerating! He's just a Professor!"

"Y/N, there are only two professors in this university that scare me, and Lauda is one of them."

"Who's the other?"

"Professor Kreizler, but you're not taking his class, so you don't have to worry about him."

You chuckle softly.

"I'll be fine. I have to go! See you later."

Michael watches you go.

You arrive to the class just in time. The class isn't as full as the other class. Just a few students scattered about. Absolutely no one was sitting on the front row. The professor has his back to the class as he organised papers on his desk.

You headed to the front and sat down, taking out the things you would need.

The professor turned around.

Never has anyone made such an impact on you before just from their presence. Your mind ceases functioning as you get a good look at your Professor.

Soft brown curly hair, dark brown eyes, not too tall, not too short, toned, but not buff. Gosh, did he look good in that turtleneck sweater.

His eyes scan the students. The room was only about half full, not that he cared much. He knew he had a reputation in the university. People couldn't deal with him, but it didn't matter because he wouldn't be able to deal with them either.

His eyes land on the only student brave enough to sit up front. He would be able to see you working from there, but that wasn't what made him stop to look at you. No, it was the fact you were probably the best looking person to ever walk into his classroom.

He flickered his gaze away before it could be read into too much by anyone.

You hadn't seemed to notice he was staring.

Still, he was a professional and he would remain so. Nothing wrong with having good looking students in a class.

"Hallo, willkommen. I am Professor Lauda, your languages teacher. This class is for German. Please, if you had no intention of being here, leave now."

No one shifts.

"Very well then. I have written the schedule for the term on the board, copy it down if you must, I will not be repeating it after today."

You note it down, using all your will power not to just look at your Professor.

"I must ask, does anyone here have any basic knowledge of German?" He asks, eyes scanning the class.

A few hands go up. Better than his last class where barely anyone had any former knowledge. Your hand is up too.

"Gut. You," he nods at you, "introduce yourself auf Deutsch."

You hesitate for a second, not expecting he would pick you. Though, you are sat up front. You're an easy target.

"Hallo, ich bin Y/N."

Y/N. Wunderbar. He had your name. He moves onto the next student who put their hand up, and then the next. You were none the wiser to his little trick of just wanting to know who you were.

"Now, listen here," he says, gaining everyone's attention after introductions, "if you so as waste my time, you are off this course. I only want students who mean to learn. If you fail my tests, you can walk tight out. If you fail to hand in an essay, you can leave."

He scans the faces of his students.

"Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir!" The class all spoke together.

"Gut. Now, pay attention."

He begins the introduction for the course. Though you are paying attention, you're slightly distracted by his voice. English or German, you could listen to him talk all day.

You write down notes as he speaks, not wanting to miss anything. You almost miss some details because you just wanted to sit and listen to him talk.

Class is over before you know it. Time had passed far too quickly for your liking.

"Dismissed. Don't be late."

Everyone gathers their things before they go. You close your notebook and glances up at your professor. He once again has his back to the class.

"Danke, herr Lauda."

Lauda glances over his shoulder to see you standing there. He looks you up and down quickly with his dark eyes. He turns back around without saying anything.

You leave, feeling a little awkward.

Michael is waiting outside for you.

"How was class?" He asks, falling into step with you.

"Not that bad. Professor Lauda isn't that bad!"

"You're lying! He's so intimidating!" Michael exclaims.

"He's fine. Maybe I should I meet this Professor Kreizler for reference."

"He's intimidating too."

"Do you actually like any Professors here?" You ask.

"....not really!"

You chuckle softly and keep on walking. Michael has to jog a little as you pick up the pace.

"I dare you! Though he might be OK if his assistant is there."

"His assistant?" You look at him curiously.

"Yeah, pretty sure they're together."

"Hmm. Cute."

"If you say so, Y/N. Right, I have to leave, there's a computer with my name on it," he grins.

"Yeah, whatever. See you!" You laugh as he walks away.

You head back to your apartment, done for the day. You would go over your notes and have some dinner before turning in for the night.

Tomorrow was another day, and you were eager to return to your languages class.

@lieutenantn @scuttle-buttle @rumblelibrary @zemosimp05 @hb8301 @celtic-witch-bitch @somethingthatsaysbubbles @lorna-d-m @anteroom-of-death @belle82devart @vverliebt @alltimebandsexual666 @charistory @mischief-siriusly-managed @thatoneartgalsstuff @mssennimatilda

[kileyrose-2003]

Tina’s Tuesday Night Mini Fic Pt. 1

Word count: Who cares? Lol

A/N: Hi lovelies! I am back!! First thing, I know. You're probably saying Kiley, wtf? It's not Tuesday. I know. Life happened. I've had a busy past few days and a final today. Anyways, this was something I did with @merci-bitch when the U.S originally went on lockdown. It was a fun way to keep me busy and get my mind off of stuff. We both decided to restart this about a week ago. So, I dedicate this to my dear friend Tina. Love you hun and hope you enjoy this! And please, if you haven't been to her blog to read any of her work, go do so. She works so hard on what she writes and is amazing.

Pt. 2 will be coming next week

To everyone waiting on fics: I'll get there. Eventually. And I'm not going into reasoning. But anyways, love you all and I hope you have a great day!

"...This is the greatest show!" You slammed your hands down on the piano keys and breathed in sharply. "God damn it, Jenny!"

"What?" You let a groan and handed her the sheet music. "Look there at that line there. Do you see that note?”

“I can see, can’t I?” Her bright green eyes lost their cool shade of arrogance when she seen how pissed you look. "Not F!” You pointed to the paper in her hand. “D! You hear that note there?" You pressed down on the key repeatedly. "D!"

"Sorry." The red head smiled at you impishly. "No, you're not. This is the fifth time we've done this and yet you still insist on doing this your own way." She sat next to you on the piano bench and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Well, I think the change makes it sound better.”

“Phineas liked it better this way,” you seethed through gritted teeth. “But what does he know of art?” You could feel your face slowing turning a distinct shade of cherry red and you bit down on your tongue.

"He must of known something with how much you tried to get in his pants," you mused to yourself.

You rolled your eyes. You loved Jenny to death but how you couldn't stand her at times. You tried and tried so desperately to get along with her and compromise when she was like this but no matter what you did, she was stubborn and so..cold at times.

Sure, Jenny was a bit of a snob but she was a genius when it came to music and you respected that. She was what inspired you to take up music in the first place.

Your childhood was far from easy. Before you even joined the circus, you were bounced all over the place. You never belonged anywhere. From the deteriorating cottage in a small, seaside village in Sweden to the cramped one bedroom apartment in London that no one would dare walk past at night. Your father was no where to be seen and your mother was an actress, always struggling to meet ends meet. She was never home, but that wasn't always a bad thing. That meant you got to explore.

That was how you got to hearJenny sing for the first time. Hiding out in the musty attic of an old Swedish theatre. Even before she hit extreme levels of fame, her voice was like a siren's call. Drawing you in further and further in. It still was in a way. She was so beautiful and even as much as she pissed you off, you loved watching her sing. Like the time at the palace. She was eye candy in that dress, the way it hugged her hips and how the bust showed the slightest bit of clevage when you looked at her at just the right angle-

"Stop it, Y/n!" You told yourself. "She's not interested in you."

Or was she? The way she looked at you when you spoke to Phineas was always with such contempt or such jealousy. You could never understand why though. It was her who tried to steal Phineas away. Not you. He was a close friend who gave you a chance when you had nothing and you never so much as even thought of eyeing him in such a manner. Phineas clearly wasn't interested in her or any other woman but his wife. He pushed her away numerous times. Jenny had no reason to be jealous of you. Yet, she was.

‘But it is of me or others though?"

One could never be sure with Jenny. Sure, there was a bit of a rivalry between the two of you when it came to music. But she was your friend. 'Very clingy for just a friend,' you noted.

'That's normal though, isn't it?'

Maybe you were just over thinking things. Besides, the relationship between the two of you seemed to be getting better lately. Ever since the scandal went public, it seemed the two of you were spending more and more time together.

You were the only one who listened to her side of the story, held her when she cried, made sure she wasn't drinking her emotions away, and tried to help her through it. Even as much as she pissed you off. You warned her in the first place not to seek out Phineas but despite the nasty arguments, the constant bickering she became your friend. Maybe even your best friend. Which you got alot of shit for.

Nobody liked Jenny and you were starting to get the feeling you weren't so popular anymore either. Everyone thought after the affair went public, the two of you would of left. Her name as well as yours, was slandered all over the paper simply because you associated with her. You had been called it all. The ring leader, the mastermind, the mistress to the two.

But neither of you resigned. Yet. Part of you wondered how long it would be until either would receive letters of negotiations to end your contract. But either way, you knew Jenny wasn't leaving without you. She promised you that.

'So maybe she does like me.'

Then that small voice came in the back of your head. 'Or maybe you just want her to like you back.'

Either way, you couldn't let that haunt your conscience for now. Even as much as you'd like to visualize a future with her, it wouldn't work. You could feel the heat pooling into your cheeks as you came back to reality and bit down on your lip. Jenny's hand was lingering up and down your back, rhythmically making shapes with the tips of her fingers. Damn her and her touch! You shouldn't be feeling this way.

"Are you okay?" You shook your head and covered your face with your hands, trying not focus on all the pain you felt inside. "No. No, I’m not."

You felt tears burning in the sides of your eyes. "This isn’t working!” Jenny furrowed her brow and tried to move your hands away from your face. “What do you mean?” She was trying to be gentle even though you could tell from the look in her eyes she had no clue what to do.

“This..all of this!” You ripped the sheet music out of her hand and flung it on top of the piano. “Something's got to give,"

She rolled her eyes as if she seen it all before and stood up, walking hastily over to the ice bucket. "Do you not have what you want?" She opened up a bottle of red wine. "Fame? Recogniton?"

"It's not enough and I don't know if I even have any of that anymore." Jenny eyed you as she poured the liquor heavily into both glasses. "I'm not liked here, Jenny."

She handed you your glass and sat down next to you. You eagerly took a sip of the wine, just wanting to forget everything for a little while. "That's not true. I like you." She leaned in closer to you.

You cracked a small grin filled with cynicism. Maybe even a little bit of hostility. Never had you felt so much love and hate towards someone at the same time. "We could both leave." Jenny's voice pulled you out of your head.

"And go where?"

"Back to Sweden with me for the time being." You noticed the intensity in Jenny's eyes growing and she reached out and grabbed your hand. You could feel her nimble gently squeezing into the palm of your hand. "You know I care for you, Y/n."

"Do you?" You tried your hardest not to sound sarcastic, you were still a little mad at her. But god! How close she was to you. You could smell her expensive perfume, see the slight hint of a shimmer radiating off of her lips. "You're fiery and you don't take my shit."

This couldn't be real. You had to be dreaming. "Jenny, this...there's a possibility this couldn't work." You tried to scoot away from her, a little intimidated by the proximity between the two of you.

"We can try to make it work."

"How?" You eyed her skeptically. "Let me take you out. Let me show you I can make this work." You furrowed your eyebrows. "Why? Need a new fling after Phineas?" You teased.

Jenny wasn't amused by that all. If anything she was pissed but she smiled anyways. Seeming to stoop down to your level with a smile that was sickly sweet. "More like a date."

"And why should I do this with you?" She let go of your hand and placed it on your thigh. "Because I probably understand you alot more than you think." As you looked into Jenny's eyes, you found some level of sincerity mixed into those deep lustful orbs. You wanted to trust her so badly.

"What do I have to lose?" You thought.

Everything. Everything to lose.

"Fine." You gave in, despise everything in your mind screaming not too. "But you have one shot and one shot only."

Jenny nodded and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. "And it won't take me more than once to impress. After all, I already made your career." You felt the hair on your arms stand straight up as her hands lingered on you, gently squeezing your hips.

"I'll see you tomorrow at 6. Sharp."

"Yeah," you watched as Jenny walked away, her hair flowing behind her like a beautiful sheath.

You felt a pit growing in the depths of your stomach. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

[moved-to-void-kissed]

Dear Lady Telanthera,

I hope this letter finds you well. Before I am to continue, I must tell you for your own safety to read this letter only if you are alone, and to dispose of it in a matter that no one will be able to read it again once you have finished. I would hate for harm to befall you due to my own negligence.

Within this envelope, I have included some of my Lord's personal letters and other information I believe you may find beneficial to your cause. No need to worry about anyone searching for them; I copied them with my own hand whilst I was alone in his study. You may do with them as you please, although if it is not too much to ask, I would prefer if you were able to copy them down yourself so that my handwriting would not be recognized…

With all of that aside… I do hope you are well. I apologize for the stiffness in my writing; It has been a very long time since I wrote to someone for something other than what my lord demands of me. I suppose being a servant has always come first for me, rather than making friends, so it's rather clear why that's the case… Ah, but I digress. While this letter was intended simply as a means to deliver these papers discreetly to you, I did wish to include some of my own words, as well.

My lady, if I were not in a position of importance to your cause, and were I able to bring my brother with me, I would come to your side in a moment. I'm afraid that it's harder than it seems to even get the time to write this letter to you, however, and coming to your side even just to spend a moment with you… It isn't much of an option for me right now. I apologize, but please believe me when I write that you have been in my thoughts regardless of what I have been doing. I… May have put forth the effort to copy these papers more as an excuse to write to you again, more than anything else.

Perhaps that's too forward of me to say. Regardless, if you should follow my words, this letter will be destroyed soon enough- If I have made you uncomfortable, I ask that you forget what I have said and I will step back accordingly.

Your comfort is of utmost importance to me, my dear.

This letter has gotten a tad long, and I apologize. I shall end it here.

Camellia Smith

(...Within the envelope are a few copied letters and other papers that may benefit Telanthera'a cause, handwritten by Camellia as well.)

Selwyn, you are going to make me cry

Not in a bad way, of course, it’s just- this is fantastic

I’m still not really in the right headspace at the moment but please just know that I am going to treasure this and I will do so for a very long time because it is amazing and so is Camellia and so are you and I love this immensely

Thank you, and thank you again, friend

[yuvon-writes-letters]

Yuvon, I just cannot anymore. He's not our Jake, but what Jessy's implying makes me crazy!!

If I had any way of going there I couldn't promise to hold myself back! Not because I blame her (V fgvyy qb...Your code, Yu...), but because of the thought that a Jake helped and got captured because if this.

In this case I really would understand if MJake wouldn't want to help me anymore

But I'll hold myself back, that's probably the best for this case. I rather help you two, Yuvon and Jake. That means, as much as I can. Btw, Jake, any luck with the deciphering?

I understand what you mean you, it's in our nature to be the concerned ones, hm?

Yeah, actually, I do know about word association. I will do that later on the backside of the letter, I hope that's fine :) Even though I don't know what you and Jake want to figure out with that xD

When I send letters I just put them in the mailbox...Your name on the envelope (which you probably already saw). That's it. They most of the time appear in my mailbox or sometimes just in my flat directly infront of the door.

You want to break fate? Let's go, I'll do what I can to help.

Yes Jake, the thought is rather disturbing. And...to be honest, I didn't tell Jake about it till now. I think I'll do that directly after writing this letter...I just couldn't bring myself to do it till now. I mean, that's not really an apology, but yeah. I'll tell that Jake later. Probably even before I send the letter.

As I already said, no adress. Just sending it with a name. But that could be different from universe to universe (will saying that ever get less weird? Probably not)

Rebirth and change? XD I mean, I don't think it's impossible anymore.

That he's not on the way to be in any TSB danger is enough for me, thanks :)

Lis🐾🔥

[Once again a screenshot is glued to the back]

Once again a message from Jake :) I even read the first part.

Lis now talked to me about the situation with alternative-Jessica. I also understand now, why she was hesitant to tell me. So that's fine now. To be honest, it is quite unsettling. I don't like this thought at all. But in this case it isn't too bad that we now know what could possibly happen.

If you may stop reading now Liska :) You too, Yuvon

And we know what could happen if our pursuers get to us. I imagine, as well as myself, you had some kind of an idea, but this is different I suppose. I am not even quite sure if I would like for this Jessica to tell us more. (And in case you are reading this, I really do not intend any harm to come to Liska.)

But putting that aside, if it wasn't ADHD then I really have no idea what you are talking about, at least not in this moment.

And don't worry, I do not intend to make you a liar. Liskas safety is my first priority, as well as mine. And I know that this probably goes both ways. She wouldn't be able to sleep if anything happened that would give her the slightest chance to feel guilty. And she went through enough, she doesn't need that.

Also, additionally, I like my freedom.

~ Jake

[On an extra piece of paper is more written. It's with the letter in the envelope. Throughout the writing the words become more neat to the end]

I almost forgot, you wanted my associations to the word yellow, here they are:

bee, banana, beach, sun, best friend, past, light, warmth, brightness, safety, familiarity, gold, silver, Aur

Hello, Lis.

Yuvon is, for some reason, taking sheets of paper from the infinite pile and systematically tearing them into small, even shreds. She would not look at me when I attempted to hand her the letter to answer, and told me to answer first. I am not entirely sure what that is about. However, glancing at the rest of the letter, it seems the alternate Jessica said something troubling? Something involving my counterpart in her universe?

No. No luck yet deciphering those papers. It is incredibly vexing. Whoever created this code clearly did not intend it to be read by those without the key.

That is good to know, about the method of sending. Theoretically, your version of Jake may be able to send letters independently, in that case. That would be intriguing to test at some point, though obviously other issues take priority.

I am sure Yuvon will be glad for your help :)

I am not sure Yuvon meant literal rebirth. Symbolism is not my strong suit, but this place is all but made of symbols. It is possible she is planning an equally symbolic action to try to affect this place.

I will attempt to get Yuvon to write her piece, now, before I address Jake. Thank you for completing the word association, by the way, Lis :)

Sincerely,

Jake

(The handwriting changes to Yuvon's. Her lines are more jagged than normal. All down the margins of the letter and in all the remaining space on the front of the page she has repeatedly written in pencil "I have no plan". She attempted to erase it, but she wrote too forcefully to erase it all.)

Lis,

I know, Lis. I know. Trust me, I understand. I'm only barely holding it together, to be honest. I keep imagining

Well. I'm sure you're thinking the same.

I'm not going to spend very long on this letter. I'm a little upset right now, and trying not to think about things. I'll probably hand it back to Jake pretty soon.

I have no idea what you're talking about. I never mentioned those two words. And I don't have any plan, no matter what Jake thinks. I am not planning anything. :O

Goodbye for now.

—Yuvon

(The letter continues on the other side, in Jake's handwriting.) I have returned. I am not sure what Yuvon is getting at, exactly, but I am slightly concerned.

Regardless. Lis, if you would kindly stop reading, I'll address Jake now.

I must admit that while Yuvon was distracted writing her portion of the letter, I read the most recent letter from Jessica. I always had an idea of what might happen were our pursuers to catch up, but having it actually happen to one of our counterparts is a completely different matter. I wonder if this is how Yuvon felt when she read that Lis and Matt had been killed. I hope not.

I do not think the specifics of my diagnosis are entirely necessary to the case, but in the event that it becomes necessary, I will say this much: I cannot stand tags on my clothes. It feels like sandpaper. Similarly, I am very particular about what type of cloth my clothes are made of.

Also, the diagnosis is not treatable with medicine, nor would I care to treat it were I given the chance. It is a part of who I am and has been since birth.

Moving on. Yes, especially now that what is at stake has been made clear, and now that our Detectives are worrying, it is more important than ever to stay several steps before our pursuers at all times. I, naturally, have a significant advantage on that front, and you have a head start. I am not overly concerned about our odds.

I am sure you will leave them in the dust. You are a counterpart to myself, after all ;)

On a final note, Yuvon got the idea to ask Lis to do some word association. The word was "yellow." I am sure you can guess why. Look for yourself; I believe you will find this of interest.

(The note with the word association Lis did is glued to the letter here with sap. Impressively, Jake managed to not make a mess.)

Sincer

What in the name of

I give up. There is no logic in this place. Yuvon just cut a branch off a tree with a single blow with that knife of hers. That should not be physically possible.

—Jake

(The letter tucks itself in the paper clip with the others.)

[ma-gic-gay]

Three hours.

Three goddamn hours of his life he's never getting back that were completely wasted on making this pros and cons list.

There were so many more interesting things he could've done in those three hours. He could've been doing paperwork, or watching paint dry or spending time with his children. Or all three at the same time. But no, he had to help her make the most extensive list he's ever known to exist.

This is some form of karma for hooking up with her.

"This is my personal hell," the brunette tells her. "It's exactly like a nightmare I once had."

"Sounds like an oddly specific nightmare."

"Just let me know when you're done making this list. I have to go do the far more interesting task of watching paint dry. First, I must find where the paint is."

"Not so fast! This list is complete and now it's time to weigh the options here," Carly says, stopping him from moving.

He glances at the list and sighs, "Certain death is not an actual thing that belongs on this list. The same goes for Earth blowing up and someone randomly stalking us. These are just your nightmares, and that's a whole other list."

Pouting, she crosses them off the list. "Happy now?"

"I'd be happier if you didn't waste three hours of my life making this list."

"Oh stop, you know this is the most logical solution," she waves a hand as though she's truly carefree at this moment in time. "Besides, this is an inclusive list of pretty much every reason you could think of."

"Yes, Elizabeth needed to be on this list," Jason says, rolling his eyes at her. "I'm beginning to think you just want to rub this in her face when she's married to and very much in love with Franco Baldwin, despite my better judgement and many discussions with her on that subject."

"Fine, I'll cross her off the list. But getting little Lizzie mad isn't exactly a con," she agrees, sighing.

"And the fact you hate her because we're friends has nothing to do with this," he says, raising an eyebrow. "Need I remind you of your reaction when you found out I had fathered Jake?"

"You hid that from me! And I hate her, but that part doesn't matter as much," the blonde playfully glares at him.

"Mhm," he agrees, rolling his eyes again. The things he does for this woman. "So, are there more pros or cons on this incredibly long list? Please, don't read them all out loud or I think we'll be here until our deaths."

"Roughly equal, but I don't know how you want to weigh each thing. For example, I assume your kids go above the possibility the world could end because of this."

"Cross that one off the list too. The world hasn't ended yet and we've done much more questionable things. Please, let's only count the real reasons that matter, such as," he pauses, looking at the list quickly, "Sonny."

"He's dead, we both know that."

"We also both know you're in love with him."

"Hard to be in love with a dead dude."

"Sounds like it must really suck. I can't know what you're feeling, of course, but sounds pretty bad."

"What I meant was that I don't entirely agree with that statement you made about me being in love with him," she retorts, rolling her eyes.

"Well, besides you, he's my best friend," he reminds her.

"Yeah, but I'm in first place for best friend," she says, smiling as though she's won a prize when he chuckles and nods. "I'm also not dead, which is a major pro to me being your best friend."

"Yes, livelihood is a good trait to have in a friend," Jason agrees, chuckling to himself.

"Well of course it is! Especially when it's me. Now, let's cross off all things that don't apply. Just look at it and cross off everything you don't agree with being on there." She hands him a pen and looks at the paper as he laughs. "Don't laugh at my genius idea, Jason. It's arguably the best I've had in a long time."

"A genius idea would be how to cure cancer, Carly. This is a Carly plan, god help us both."

"You'll be fine," she says, smiling as he crosses something out. "Hey, that's a very valid point there you're just erasing from it!"

"No, it is not. Your mother has absolutely nothing to do with this."

"My mother loves you!"

"Carly, that does not constitute as something for this list."

"I disagree."

"Too late, I crossed her name out already."

"Give me that pen and I will write it again."

"Carly. Let me cross out invalid points here. You can fight me about their validity later in life."

"Fine," she pouts. "But I don't like this."

"And I don't like that I have this list in front of me."

"Just erase all of my hard work like it's nothing, it's fine. Not like it's the most extensive list with each and every thing we need to consider on it," Carly continues dramatically.

Ten minutes later, half of the list is crossed off much to the anger of Carly. "I put my heart and soul into this list and this is how you repay me, crossing out half of it!"

Chuckling, Jason just says, "You'll be fine. Besides, I think that's the last thing I'll be crossing off."

"Well, now we have to organize each of them in order of how serious they are."

"There's more of a process to this?" Jason groans, already dreading that part of his day. "Can't we just make a decision based off of this list in and of itself so that we don't focus another three hours of our days on this?"

"Fine. What do you think we should do from here, using only this list?"

"I don't know, why don't you have a decision made up in your mind? This is taking a concerning amount of time, especially since it's you," he questions.

"Maybe because I'm thinking of what to say when the kids get back here!"

"You mean the kids that are used to me being in your kitchen with you? Yeah, I'm sure they're going to be really confused and realize we hooked up last night at the sight of us," he agrees sarcastically.

"Alright, you make a good point there. I can't make a decision, though," Carly sighs, agreeing with him in a minor victory for the assassin.

"That was the whole point of this list!"

"I never guaranteed that it would work!"

"Yes, you did. You said it would show us which decision would be the right one," he counters.

"You know what, screw the list," Carly says, ripping it up and throwing it in the trashcan. "We can figure this out without needing a list! We're adults, we can solve our problems on our own without needing any help from that."

"Three hours. I'm never getting those three hours back that you spent on that list, Carly, and for you to just throw it away... You're lucky you're my best friend."

"Shut up and just tell me what you feel."

"At this moment? Like I'm getting a headache and I don't have nearly enough patience for your plan."

"I never called it a plan, you did, and you know that's not what I meant."

"What exactly do you want me to tell you my feelings on, then?"

"I don't know, Jason, what's your feeling about Laura and Cyrus being siblings? I want to know your feelings on what happened last night!"

To be continued because I'm falling asleep rn to Taylor Swift breakup songs

"It's hard being in love with a dead dude." Pick a struggle-

[kikizoshi]

may i request a fyogol drabble or short fic about fyodors birthday and how he doesn't think its important but nikolai uses it as an excuse to show him a silly magic trick and suddenly their day isn't going so badly anymore

Yes, of course! Thanks for the ask (and on Fyodor’s birthday, too; this really is such a treat)! I took a few liberties with the story, as you’ll see, because I thought it fit with their theme a bit better, but I tried to include everything you asked for. And, yeah, I hope you enjoy it! It was great having an outside reason to write, so thank you very much!

     The ticking and tocking clock mocks Gogol as he swings his legs, laying half off a new-smelling bed and utterly bored out of his mind. ‘Tick’ reminds him that there’s nothing to do. ‘Tock’ reminds him that he could make something to do. ‘Tick’ argues that he can’t do something out of the ordinary for his character designation of Secretary. 'Tock’ disagrees, because who’s going to be looking at Secretary, anyway? Gogol vaguely remembers the story of an angel and demon on one’s shoulder and groans out loud at the overused cliche.

     He looks over to the door and sighs. He doesn’t mind any of the other scenery around the room–he’d long since tired of the dull white walls and clean kitchen. The worn, polished picture frames and the new IKEA desk mean nothing if their owner doesn’t care for their contents. No, the only things of mild value remain tucked away in Gogol’s cloak, and so nothing catches his eye. It’s just the door that’s insufferable. A sort of freedom taunts him this time in the form of being so very close, and it’s maddening. Strangely, both Tick and Tock agree with him on that.

     Gogol sighs harder–as though that will relieve him of his tantalizing thoughts–and scratches at his black wig. He looks at the tiny slit of a gap between the door and the doorframe and imagines himself becoming as thin as paper (or maybe thinner?), slipping through that taunting crevice. He can practically feel it–the smooth, slightly rough but oh so satisfying slide against the door and doorframe until he’s out and the cool, near-winter air whisks him up, up and away from this melancholic, drab, caged act.

     The clock forgets Gogol’s even there, arguing with itself louder, and that damned itch won’t go away, so Gogol scratches more–only serving to irritate the skin, itching it further–stills his legs, and the free energy coils up in his gut, screaming at him to move. He jolts up and throws the wig across the pristine floor, dragging his nails along his scalp irritably. God, how do people spend their every day like this?!

     It’s terrible, yes, simply awful, so why should Gogol stay in their hell? No, he has better things to do. It’s a very important day, after all! A grin stretches his face at that, the thought instantly lightening his mood. He’d almost forgotten the speciality of this day, but how could he? When his dear, dear friend and coworker surely sits all alone, up to his neck in a pawn that won’t comply or coding that defies all logic or whatever it is that Dostoyevsky even does–for Gogol finds himself rather unaware of such things even when Dostoyevsky explains it to him, such is the work as enigmatic as the worker–what else can Gogol be expected to do if not cheer him up?

     And so, without even bothering to question whether or not his friend actually is in any sort of stress at the moment, Gogol shoots up and all but dashes to the door, only barely stopping to grab his cape before he goes. He does take careful pains to lock his door, however–unwelcome visitors are always troublesome.

     The breeze is … not as cold as he’d expected, though why he expected cold weather at all in Japan is perhaps a mystery not even he can solve. It is cool though, a pleasant breeze even if not a cold one, and Gogol’s smile softens at it. 'We should visit a park or something later,’ he thinks, 'or perhaps look on the city from one of those Mafia buildings?’ He looks up in contemplation to try to see the four tall shapes. Sadly, they don’t appear in his line of view, but that can be fixed! Gogol swings around, walking backwards now and garnering a few stares but that doesn’t matter much now. Now that Gogol can see those dark pillars–and the alley he’s looking for is half a mile away–he gets lost in his imagination for what they could do there.

     The breeze blows chillier than it does on the ground–much more akin to what the two are used to, picking up their capes and blowing them so far they look to be seeking escape–and the city lights twinkling below them could almost be pretty if they weren’t another sign of this world’s latent corruption. That doesn’t matter as much, though, Gogol is sure, since the wind still feels nice and his friend looks to be at some sort of peace for once.

     "Hey, hey, Dos-kun?“ A grin stretches Gogol’s face as he comes up with a marvellous new joke, “What’s the synonym of both 'essential to society’ and 'ignorance’?! I’ll give you three guesses, though I’m sure you only need one!”

     "There are many answers to that, how am I to know which one you mean?“

     "Why, that’s the point!” Gogol laughs, loud and free, “If I weren’t vague, my audience wouldn’t have to guess and the quiz would be no fun at all!”

     "That’s true.“ Dostoyevsky keeps his blank face faced towards the sparkling city as though lost in thought, but Gogol thinks it might just be less cold than usual. “Well then, in this case, your answer is 'the Port Mafia’, as they’re both essential to Yokohama’s society and incredibly ignorant for allowing us to slip onto their roof.”

     "Excellent, bravo, that’s exactly correct!“ Gogol jumps up from the edge they’re both sitting on to proclaim in a sweeping gesture, "It’s a perfect answer, and since you replied so splendidly, I have a special offer!” He holds a hand out to Dostoyevsky–whose hand is gloved, for once; a fact for which Gogol is incredibly thankful–that’s then taken, although the latter doesn’t move to stand. “IIIIIIt’s 'Double or Nothing Time’!!! For the price of figuring out one more trick, I’ll double the prize you would have gotten! Beware though,” Gogol’s voice suddenly drops to a dire whisper, “for if you get this one wrong, you’ll lose everything and be doubly tricked.”

     Dostoyevsky smiles slightly. “And do I have to stand for this new trick of yours?” he asks.

     "Hm, no, I suppose not. Only give me a second.“ Gogol lets go of Dostoyevsky’s hand and pulls his cape across the top half of his body, vanishing it in front of Dostoyevsky’s eyes. Not for long though, as it’s back in front of him when he turns back to look at the city. And also a little too close for comfort. Dostoyevsky pokes Gogol in the chest, a signal for him to back up slightly, which he does with a laugh and 'floats’ there merrily in the air, simply grinning at Dostoyevsky for a moment.

     "So this trick of yours is …” Dostoyevsky trails off, waiting for Gogol to finish–a request to which he happily complies.

     "Yes! You see, I found this the other day,“ Gogol retrieves from his cloak a regular paper napkin, completely average in every way, and holds it out like it’s the Holy Grail, "and I just had to use it! So, my willing participant, if you would be so kind as to hold this for me,” Gogol rips the napkin in two and picks up Dostoyevsky’s right hand, placing one half inside of it, “and I’ll take the other one, see, and curl it up like so,” he crushes his half of the napkin into a ball about half the size of a tennis ball and holds it up with glee, “and viola!”

     "… Your trick is a ball.“ Dostoyevsky stares at him, unimpressed. Gogol laughs again. "No, no! Not a ball,” he cackles, “the ball is only the beginning! No, though the ball is very nice, it’s what’s inside the ball that’s important! If the magician can’t get the special component outside of the ball, then there’s not much point at all, and everyone’s left unsatisfied!”

     "And that is?“

     "Magic, of course!”

     "Of course.“

     "Yes, sooo,” Gogol sways the ball around in front of Dostoyevsky’s eyes, “I want you to pay very special attention to this ball. Whatever you do, whatever happens, don’t, for even a second, let it out of your sight. If you do, then you automatically fail!”

     Dostoyevsky nods.

     "Alright! Now then,“ Gogol puts the ball into his cupped right hand, "as you can see, the ball is here now,” he closes his hand, “and now you don’t see it!” He laughs gaily, though sobers enough to continue when Dostoyevsky gives the ball an exasperated look. He opens his hand back up and takes the ball back with his left hand. “So now, when I put the ball in my hand for the second time and close it, you can be sure that, when I open it again, there will be only empty air! Ready?” Gogol grins wider at Dostoyevsky’s nod.

     Now, here’s the tricky part. Gogol holds the hand with the ball just high enough that a quick flick should be out of Dostoyevsky’s periphrial vision, then quickly brings his left hand down as if he’s putting the ball in. He closes his hand and looks back to Dostoyevsky and … and Dostoyevsky’s not looking at him.

     Rather than focusing on Gogol, like he’d wanted, Dostoyevsky had stayed true to his word and now looks towards the edge of the roof where the ball must have been swept off by the wind. Slowly, he turns his unimpressed expression back to Gogol, though Gogol doesn’t miss the tinge of humour in it. Gogol sighs. Well, it was worth a try. Though he’d hoped he’d get farther than that, it’s not like he didn’t expect–

     "Ah, I see,“ Dostoyevsky continues with a smirk, cutting off Gogol’s train of thought, "so I’ve already been caught.” He holds up the hand that Gogol had taken at the very beginning palm-up to himself and sighs. Right there, though he’d been too distracted to notice it at the time–something Gogol takes great pride in–is a small, flat cylinder, not unlike a poker chip, with a counter counting down from about a minute on it.

     Gogol makes a show of falling back out of his cape and laughs to the sky. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually! Though perhaps it’s too late?! After all, time’s running out and the release switch is who knows where.” Gogol grins mischievously, gloating over his assured victory. To his delight, it actually has the intended effect!

     Dostoyevsky stands, smirk still there although merging with an outright smile now, and walks over to Gogol. Nonchalantly, as though he has all the time in the world, Dostoyevsky reaches into Gogol’s right hand and presses the button on the switch.

     DING! DING! DING! DING!

     Dostoyevsky jumps, startled, at Gogol chuckles and confetti flies out of the disk on Dostoyevsky’s hand, said disk falling to the ground shortly after.

     "Happy birthday!“ Gogol shouts, throwing his arms up in excitement, "And may we wish for many more to come.”

     "So that’s why you brought me up here?“ Dostoyevsky sits back down on the edge, raising a hand to his head. "That’s a long way and a lot of time for nothing, Gogol.”

     "Certainly,“ Gogol says seriously, "That’s why it’s 'Much Ado About Nothing!’ If it was 'Much Ado About Something’ or 'Much Ado About Most Things’ then people wouldn’t be as interested! No, it’s 'Much Ado About Nothing’, and isn’t it such a luxury to have any ado not attributed to anything? I think so. And, wouldn’t you like to experience it too? If only for a little while.” Gogol smiles genuinely, taking a seat back beside Dostoyevsky and taking his hand.

     "I hate to be the one to inform you of this,“ Dostoyevsky says, "but your whole existence could be said to be 'Much Ado About Nothing,’ and therefore insignificant.”

     "Aah, but you see,“ Gogol leans in conspiratorially, "if I were to vanish from society today, it would have an effect. Not an immediate or noticeable one, perhaps, but an effect nonetheless. Therefore, even if you call my existence 'Much Ado About Nothing,’ my actions have to do with something! But anyway,” Gogol takes in a deep breath of air, suddenly becoming much calmer in the moment, “It’s true that I know how to have fanfare over trivialities, but you don’t seem to. It’s always the end or beginning of the world, but nothing ever happens outside of that. Wouldn’t you like to try, then, and take a step out of reality for even just a handful of minutes? Surely it wouldn’t be terrible.”

     "Perhaps.“ Dostoyevsky’s smile becomes only that, then, and he sighs a sigh that Gogol might almost venture to call contented. "I hope you plan on cleaning the confetti, because I definitely won’t.”

     Gogol laughs.

     Coming out of his thoughts, Gogol notices the alleyway to his destination and grins. It’s just about time, then. Even if things won’t happen exactly the way he’d imagined them, just seeing Dostoyevsky soften is more than enough of a goal for the day!

     With that in mind, he sweeps through his cape the rest of the way and ends up in a fairly cramped room. It’s a few doors behind an underground bar–'Lupin’ he remembers the sign said–that Dostoyevsky bought from the now-dead owner of the establishment. As such, the backroom that Gogol finds himself in isn’t too big, holding only a small group of pillows Gogol guesses could be called a bed, a single glowing bulb fixed into the ceiling, a desk, chair, and a few monitors. Why, exactly, Dostoyevsky decides to stay here, when there are plenty other–better–places to stay, Gogol has no idea. The former doesn’t seem to have a problem with the setup, however, as he’s … well, he’s doing something completely unexpected now that Gogol looks at him with properly adjusted eyes.

     Dostoyevsky looks up from his book, the stark pink colouring of it seemingly shining in the dark room as he lowers it slightly. “Gogol. What brings you here?” He asks.

     "My, you sound positively brimming with happiness at my visit! Can I not see friends when the boredom consumes me whole?“

     "No, it’s not that you can’t, but you never do things without even a minuscule reason. Humans don’t.”

     Gogol sighs. Working up to his fantasy will take time, but it’s time well-spent if it’s time with his friend. Or coworker. Dostoyevsky doesn’t seem to be in a good mood, after all. “Yes, and that boredom is my very reason! Usually you would get that … Oh no, is something seriously wrong?!”

     "No, I understood that. But you have another motive, too.“ Dostoyevsky sets his book on the table next to him and leans back in his chair.

     "Of course, of course,” Gogol relents, “because … No, but I’ll let you guess! What better way to get the mind working than a quiz?! And a quiz needs a hint! Let’s see, 'what rhymes with "calendar?”’“

     "November. You’re here because of my birthday too then, but there’s no need and even less so since you have to break character to be here.”

     "On the contrary, it’s very important! Even if not to you, then to the people around you, so,“ Gogol reaches into his cloak–and readjusts it while he’s at it. Had he really been so careless in throwing it on?–and pulls out a small-ish, lumpy yet neatly wrapped package, "I’ll let you guess what this is, and if you get it right, I’ll give you a second present!”

     Dostoyevsky takes the package–irritably–and feels it, squishing and turning and making a mess of the packaging. Gogol watches in anticipation. 

     After a few moments, Dostoyevsky answers. “It’s a new ushanka.” Promptly, before Gogol can announce the verdict, Dostoyevsky rips open the packaging to reveal a hat exactly like the one he’s wearing. He sighs. “I already have one though. What’s the point in getting a new one?”

     "Because!“ Gogol exclaims, "You were talking about that guy–”

     "Dazai?“

     "Maybe–you didn’t mention him by name–and I thought, since you were so peeved at him for wearing your hat, you’d want a new one that you could call unsullied by your nemesis!”

     "I see.“ Dostoyevsky removes his hat and replaces it with the new one from Gogol. Much to Gogol’s delight, his expression does soften some as he feels at it on his head. "It’s softer,” Dostoyevsky says.

     "Of course, your other one was getting rather old, too.“ Gogol smiles and pats Dostoyevsky on the head through his cape. "This one should be warmer as well, although I still don’t know how you manage to wear such furry clothes in the heat–”

     "Thank you,“ Dostoyevsky says, smiling, "it’s nice.”

     Gogol smiles back and moves closer to Dostoyevsky. “I haven’t forgotten about your second present either.” Slowly– to give Dostoyevsky enough time to move away if he wishes–Gogol slips his arms around him in a semi-awkward embrace and says simply, “Happy birthday.”

     Dostoyevsky returns the hug, “Still, I can’t help but think this should be a time of mourning for you, too.”

     When Gogol pulls back, Dostoyevsky is smiling cunningly. Gogol mildly worries. “E-Eh? Why would I mourn the day of your birth?”

     "How about a quiz?“ The smile stays, and Gogol feels himself cornered before the conversation has even ended. "Since you like them so much, I’ll provide one this time.”

     "Why thank you,“ Gogol laughs, pulling away completely to sit on the pillows across from him, and thinks aloud, "Let’s see, a reason to mourn Dos-kun’s birth … Because it’s bad for the world? But I don’t believe that! His existence hasn’t caused me any pain not of my own making, has been very beneficial, yet I have some reason to mourn it …” After a few moments of silence, Gogol finally throws his hands up in defeat. “I have no idea! I give up, so you’ll have to tell me.”

     The now-smirk grows, “Because,” Dostoyevsky begins, as though explaining something to a schoolboy, “now you’ll no longer be able to make jokes of being the older one of us.”

     Gogol’s eyes shoot wide open as he processes the new information. “Oh no!” He screams, “How could I have forgotten such an important detail?! You’re right. This is terrible, utterly awful! But alas, I must endure it … Yes, I’ll endure it for a few more months, and then all will be right again!”

     "But you won’t,“ Dostoyevsky says, "because you won’t have the chance.”Gogol tilts his head in confusion. “What? Of course March will get here eventually! So why wouldn’t–” Just then, as though the realisation strikes him with a staggering force, he leans back onto the wall and his smile falls sad. “Ah, of course. I won’t be here for March.”

     Dostoyevsky nods. “Precisely.” His expression becomes grim too, and he comes to sit next to Gogol. “So perhaps we should change the plan–it’s what I was thinking when you came in. There are a few ways about it, although the boss won’t like it very much, it’s not as though they can do anything about it if we decide not to go through with 'Sunday’s Tragedy,’ as you like to call it.”

     Gogol shakes his head, a resolute smile on his lips. “No, that’d be no good. The whole point of Sunday’s Tragedy is that it happens. I wouldn’t have agreed to it if it went differently, so of course, we can’t change it. Don’t you already know that?”

     Dostoyevsky sighs. “Yes,” he says simply, resting his head against the wall and looking at nothing in particular. There’s nothing else to say, Gogol supposes. Still, this isn’t how it was supposed to go. Dostoyevsky wasn’t supposed to end up depressed by the end–Gogol wasn’t either.

     "It’s,“ Gogol says, "It’s going to turn out fine. After all, we’ve known each other for, say, about nine years now, and most of the plans you worked on came to fruition. Even if these plans are shared amongst others, I believe in the things you create, so you can believe in them too.” He takes Dostoyevsky’s hand, “I’m sure of it. You don’t have to worry.”

  ��  ” … You put a mechanised party popper in my hand at a moment like this …“

     "Ah, drat! And here I thought I was sneaky this time!” Gogol laughs nonetheless and takes out the release switch. “Well, since you figured it out so quickly, I suppose I’ll end it myself this time.”

     Dostoyevsky’s eyes widen. “No, wait–”

     DING! DING! DING! DING!

[angellesword]

Contrast

Summary: Yoongi doesn’t know how to finish writing his song.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Idol!Hoseok

Genre: Fluff, minor angst

Word Count: 2.8k (One-shot)

Warnings: discussion of insecurities

Yoongi glared at the intersecting lines in his strikingly white paper. The heavy red inked pen he used to draw those lines was enough to make his head hurt.

Sigh.

He just crossed out an entire stanza of the lyrics he wrote for three hours.

Three. Fucking. Hours.

The lyrics just didn’t fit on the beat of the song he produced. What the hell was wrong with him? He was usually satisfied with his works. In most cases, he could actually finish producing and writing a song in a short period of time.

So why couldn’t he do it now?

Was it the wine?  Yoongi absentmindedly ran his finger through his lower lip while thinking.

Was he too dependent on that bittersweet liquor so now that he stopped drinking it, he felt as though he couldn’t function well?

Was that it?

Or was it his pride?

Namjoon offered to help, but Yoongi just brushed him off. He knew Joon had a lot on his plate right now. With his upcoming mixtape, dance practices, meaningful speeches for their love yourself and speak yourself campaign, Yoongi didn’t want to become one their leader's responsibilities.

But the main reason was probably his pride. Namjoon could balance both his personal and work life. So why couldn’t Yoongi?

"Hyung?"

Yoongi felt a hand resting on his shoulder. For some reason, his body began to relax. He was wearing an extra layer of clothes, but he could still feel the comfort and warmth in this person's hand.

He looked back only to see the uneasiness in Hoseok's eyes, his hand was still on Yoongi's shoulder.

"Hobi...you're here...." Yoongi said. His voice was betraying him, though. It's like his system was still processing the fact that Hoseok was really here.

Inside his studio.

And it was just the two of them.

"Yeah. I knocked exactly twenty times." Hoseok replied meticulously, worry was still visible in his eyes.

Yoongi had this rule for the rest of the Bangtan members. They should knock twenty times before entering his studio. But the members, especially the maknae line, didn’t seem to understand the concept of knocking. The boys just barged into his studio whenever they wanted.

"You didn't answer, so I just pressed the magic numbers and went in." Hoseok shrugged his shoulders.

Since the Bangtan boys kept on invading Yoongi's studio, he decided to exercise the use of password lock, but Yoongi was bad when it came to remembering some stuff. There was this one night when he slept outside of his studio because he forgot his passcode.

So when he finally remembered, he immediately told Hoseok about it. He was the only person Yoongi could trust who wouldn’t invade his privacy.

"I brought some food, hyung..." Hoseok smiled brightly as he raised his other hand to show the paper bag containing take-out food.

"Hmm...thanks." Yoongi smiled a little. It's past midnight and he still hadn’t eaten dinner. He barely left his studio.

"Jimin asked me to have dinner with him, but I figured you're the one who needs someone to eat with so..." Hoseok finally removed his hand on Yoongi's shoulder, he then walked straight to the table.

"It's Chinese food. I hope you like it,” Hoseok turned to face Yoongi who was still seated on his swivel chair.

"I eat anything..." Yoongi kept on playing with his lower lip while looking at Hoseok intently. He was watching his every move carefully.

"Good! I brought a lot!" Hoseok smiled. It's the kind of smile that showed his little dimples. The one Yoongi liked the most.

"So...you're going to...eat with me...?" Yoongi asked even though he already knew the answer. Hoseok literally told him a few breaths ago.

"Yes. I just went out with Jimin so I can buy our food. And..." Hoseok stopped speaking momentarily to open the sachet of sauce using his mouth. "I didn't want Jimin to eat alone, so I waited for him to finish."

"I see..." Yoongi nodded.

Hoseok was really that type of person. He always made sure everyone was happy—that everyone was safe. He was always so full of love, especially when it came to his family, friends, and ARMYs, their fans.

Sometimes Hoseok's personality was too much for Yoongi. The former knew how to break almost everyone's wall. He knew exactly what to do or say to a person. He could make anyone feel so special—like you're the only person who matterred. He made everyone feel as though even their pettiest reason should never be ignored.

It scared Yoongi.

Because what if....

What if...he got the wrong idea? What if he thought that he was special, but then Hoseok did this 'special' thing to everyone?

Yoongi was not the smartest person, though he knew that vulnerability and oblivion were the greatest downfall of a human being.

Oblivion. Growing up, Yoongi didn't experience the warmth and kindness of this world. In fact, fate was a little cruel to him. He learned things the hard way. He grew up thinking that everything was not for free.

You wanted food? Okay. Suffer by walking from school to your home in exchange of using your transportation fee to buy a cheap cup of instant noodles instead.

You wanted money? Then let me buy your hard produced music beat for a few bucks.

You wanted to be famous? Spend your life as a teenager full of worries and questions. Will I even debut? How many more songs should I write and produce just to be rejected again?

Isn't leaving Daegu and going to a strange and cruel town enough? What more do I need to do?

You see, these things were some of the reasons why Yoongi could not accept the love and care Hoseok gave for free. Yoongi’s oblivion about unconditional love turned him vulnerable.

He didn't know that someone was capable of doing such things because he grew up in the absence of it. The little affection shown by Hobi made Yoongi feel a lot of things...to the point that he couldn’t control and distinguish it.

Was it love? Or was he just thankful to Hoseok?

"Let's eat, hyung~" Hoseok called, but Yoongi didn't move.

Hoseok pouted and went straight to Yoongi's back. He pushed his hyung's swivel chair until it reached the corner of the table.

Yoongi groaned when his upper abdomen hit the table's corner.

"That's what you get for being lazy." Hoseok stuck his tongue out at him.

Yoongi just shook his head—trying to ignore the fact that his heartbeat just doubled because of Hoseok's silly expression.

Both of them ate in peace. Yoongi wasn’t talking much because he was still worried about his unfinished lyrics. Hoseok, on the other hand, was busy with his food. Yoongi didn't mind. Hoseok's presence was enough to ease the tension he was feeling.

"By the way, Hyung. How's the song you've been writing?"

Yoongi froze the second he heard the question. He remembered promising Hoseok that he would let the younger boy hear it today. It's actually a song that would be rapped by the two of them this upcoming Festa.

Bighit decided to divide the Bangtan Boys into subunits for this year's anniversary. Seokjin, the best vocalist, and Namjoon, the band’s leader, would release a music video. It would be under the production of Golden Closet Film.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk were phenomenal dancers so they chose to choreograph dance steps.

Hoseok knew that their members were doing their best. This made him a little anxious and pressured. He wanted to show his best abilities to the ARMYs so kept on pestering Yoongi about their performance. But now that he could see how stressful it was for Yoongi to finish the song, he suddenly just wanted to do something else.

"I'll let you listen to it by tomorrow..." Yoongi stood up and started cleaning the table. Both of them were done eating.

Hoseok noticed the change in Yoongi's mood. Did he say something wrong? Was he too demanding?

Uneasiness washed all over Hoseok again. He studied Yoongi's face. His hyung's lips were protruded into a small but sulky pout. His eyebrows were furrowed too.

Hoseok cleared his throat. He didn't want to upset Yoongi.

"Listen, Hyung..." He started. "Uh, you don't really have to do this...I mean, it's going to be an unofficial song, so....you should not...uhm...." Hoseok tried to find the right thing to say but he couldn’t. So instead, he just helped clean the table.

Yoongi stopped him, though.

"I'll clean up here, Hope. Just do something else..."

Hoseok pouted and sighed in defeat. Yoongi must have been really upset.

Hoseok was dying of curiousity now so he went to his hyung's working table to know what had gotten him so unmotivated.

He raised his brow when he saw five crumpled papers on the table. There were also at least ten scattered white papers here. What really caught his attention was the paper with a big X mark on it.

Hoseok read the words on that paper. A small smile formed in his lips when he realized that Min Yoongi was genius.

This sounds so cliché

but believe me when I say

your smile completes my day

we're contrast, just like what they say

i'm monochrome and you're a rainbow

my dark picture has been colored by you, oh you.

Baby you're my muse. (and my only hope)

"Hyung, why did you remove this? It's brilliant!" Hoseok went near Yoongi just to shoved the paper on his face.

Yoongi immediately snatched the paper away from Hoseok. Damn. He should've thrown this stupid paper in the trash bin!

"I-It's stupid, Hope...." Yoongi avoided Hoseok's shinning eyes.

Did he notice that the song was for him?

"It's not! ARMYs will like it! I like it! No—I love it!" Hoseok grabbed Yoongi frail shoulders, causing him to groan. Yoongi's body felt weak. He had been sitting on his swivel chairs for hours.

"Hyung, you might think I'm only saying this out of guilt for not helping you..." Hoseok bit the inside of his cheek. Sure, he was really guilty but... "You know I don't lie. When I say it's beautiful, it is really beautiful..."

Beautiful. He said that word as if he wasn’t just pertaining to the lyrics but also to the person in front of him.

"So what if it's cheesy? I've always admired your talent for conveying feelings into meaningful words, Yoongi-hyung."

Yoongi blushed. Here we go again. Why did Hoseok always know the right thing to say? Or did he? Maybe those weren’t really the right words. It's just what Yoongi wanted to hear.

Maybe it's never about the right words but the right person.

And maybe it's the way Hoseok spoke or the way he looked at someone as if that person was the sole reason why the sun rises, and why the moon illuminates the heavy, dark night.

"Why are you doing this to me, Jung Hoseok?" Yoongi glared at Hobi. His eyes were slightly red because of unshed tears and frustration.

"W-What do you mean, Hyung?" Hoseok stammered.

Yoongi blinked and then he took a step backward when he noticed how Hoseok's eyes quivered in trepidation.

"I'll finish the song before the anniversary, Hope. Just trust me..."

Hoseok sighed in relief when Yoongi smiled. Nothing else mattered when he saw that gummy smile.

Hoseok’s phone suddenly vibrated.

"Oh! Hyung! Look! Our company just posted the concept photos for the Festa!" Hoseok enthusiastically visited their page to see the photos in his phone.

Hoseok couldn't be happier to see that his favorite photo of him was the album's cover. It took him and the rest of the members two days to finish the photo shoot.

It turned out really well.

But his happiness was short-lived because after several minutes, his photo's likes didn't increase at all.

25,010 likes. 3,056 comments. 743 shares.

He checked the photos of other members.

107,346 likes. 8,222 comments. 4023 shares.

Hoseok couldn't keep track on the numbers on his co-members' photos because it was increasing rapidly.

He was delighted since his members were well-loved and respected by the fans. However, he couldn’t deny the fact that he felt insecure.

It had always been like this. People liked the other members more than Hoseok. He was also often the target of mean and baseless comments on social media platforms. As much as he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t. Some words were too painful. He couldn’t stop thinking that perhaps, they were right.

"Hope..."

"Yeah?" Hoseok flinched when Yoongi touched his shaky hand.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi questioned with furrowed brow. Hoseok's face was really, really pale.

"Huh? Uh...yes. I'm just...." He trailed off. Hoseok didn’t want to lie but he also did not want Yoongi to think he was being petty.

But Yoongi wasn’t having any of his bullshit.

"I know that face so don't you dare lie to me." Yoongi’s voice was low and full of authority. "What's wrong?"

Hoseok swallowed. Hard. He didn't dare to speak.

"Hope, I am asking you..." Yoongi warned. He took a step forward while Hoseok took a step backward.

This annoyed Yoongi. He took another step forward but Hoseok repeated his annoying move. Though, this time, he hadn't done it successfully since his ankle hit the front leg of the swivel chair.

And because Yoongi wouldn’t stop invading Hoseok's personal space, Hobi just decided to take a seat on that swivel chair.

Hoping Yoongi would stop, Hoseok released another sigh of relief.

Yoongi had finally stopped walking towards his direction.

But it's not because he was done with Hoseok. It's just that Yoongi was now standing at most three feet away from Hoseok's swivel chair.

"I asked you what's wrong, Hope. You. Did. Not. Answer. Me." Yoongi said firmly. He even snatched the phone away from Hoseok's grip.

Yoongi's forehead creased because of confusion. What's with these pictures and why was it making Hoseok sad?

Yoongi scrolled down to see all the pictures, trying to understand what's wrong with it. Not a minute passed but Yoongi already knew what this was all about.

"We talked about this, didn't we?" The look on Yoongi's face screamed “I am disappointed.”

That's the problem with Yoongi. When he offered a solution to a problem, he instantly believed that it was the best and it should be followed.

Like when he told Hoseok to ignore the people who didn’t appreciate him, he thought Hoseok's insecurity would just magically go away. Because in Yoongi's case, it had always been like that. Whatever Hoseok did or said,Yoongi believed and followed it.

"You really think the damn numbers matter? Hope, you're..." Yoongi could not finish his sentence. What was the perfect word to describe Hoseok? Did that word even exist?

"This is the reason why I don't want to say anything to you, hyung. You won't understand." It took Hoseok everything not to let his voice crack.

Perhaps Hoseok's greatest downfall was fear. Fear of not being enough. Fear of not being able to show the role he himself wanted to portray. Fear. Fear of not attaining the security he wanted to reach.

It's not about the money. It's not about him getting tired from going extra mile for other people.

It was fear. Fear of not being loved. Fear of leaving this world and not being able to justify the importance of his existence.

Because, why did it have to be him? There were so many people who deserved to live. To be in his position. But why him? What's so special about him?

"It's not that I won't understand, Hope. I can't understand..."

But Hoseok didn't say anything again. He was just trying so hard to purse his lips together and God, Yoongi's patience was being tested.

"You're so fucking insecure. Do you know that?”Yoongi leaned forward so his face leveled Hoseok's.

Yoongi titled Hoseok's chin as he examined his face.

"We should do something about that..." Yoongi whispered. His eyes were still busy scrutinizing Hoseok's face.

"Y-Yoongi..." Hoseok's voice was soft.

Yoongi smirked. His stomach twisted when Hoseok dropped honorifics.

"Yes, Hope?" Yoongi bit his lower lip, trying to catch Hoseok's eyes.

"You go around making other people feel loved when you can't even..."

Hoseok's breathing hitched when he noticed that Yoongi's face was just a few inches away from his probably flushed face.

"Love yourself..." Hoseok closed his eyes when Yoongi left a light as a feather kiss on his lips.

It's just a peck but his body reacted differently.

He knew wanted more.

But Yoongi did not have a plan to repeat that move again.

Yoongi walked towards his working table and immediately stopped the camera from recording.

Hoseok's eyes widen.

Fuck.

They are being recorded.

"I'm not gonna finish this song, Hope. I know what to show to our ARMYs. I’ll let them know who loves you.” Yoongi slightly raised the camera.

He just smirked when Hoseok still remained quiet.

So much for writing a song.

[dukeofriven]

There's a distinction to be made here. Like, you're right that the writing isn't good here. The writing in the Kingdom Hearts series is frequently terrible, especially when it comes to awkwardly inserting Sora & crew into Disney movies. The question, though, is whether or not you're enjoying it regardless. I can't currently tell if you are.

This is such a wonderful question and I love it so much. (The way to a writer’s heart is to ask them questions about themselves, because we are all mad egoists)The short answer is that I don’t write 2500 words on something I don’t think is worth exploring, and I certainly don’t spend six hours dissecting a two-minute scene if I didn’t derive any pleasure from it. The long answer: it is not “enjoyment” in the sense of ‘relaxing.’ I am not ‘enjoying it’ in the sense that I can zone out while watching it, or necessarily find delight in the viewing experience - which is not to say those are bad things, I just find that really, really hard to do. My brain works differently. I do find that sometimes ‘critique’ is conflated with ‘criticism,’ and that there is a prima facie tendency to presume that anyone critiquing anything has had a negative experience. There are very few things I love that I don’t find reason to critique (off the top of my head, Labyrinth and A Muppet Christmas Carol are the only two the jump to mind, and you can tell that one of their defining features is Childhood Love.Also Muppets.)But to say that I am not enjoying it would be untrue: when I don’t enjoy something I might write a lengthy piece on why, but I wouldn’t keep returning, day in and day out, to make the same complaints. (Except Mass Effect 3, because fuuuuck Mass Effect 3.) This liveblog gives me structure, first of all - something my life desperately needs to retain any kind of stability. I am in a bad depressive way right now, and those six hours I spent hyper=focussed on writing that perhaps absurd position paper on Tinkerbell was six hours I didn’t go to 7/11 and spend ungodly amounts of cash on enough taquitos and pseudo-meat to put me into septic shock. My day job is - or, rather, was until a week ago and I was essentially made redundant - writing terribly dry content for a market research firm on the praxis of sales analysis - ah, the glamorous life of a freelancer. When I write this liveblog, especially long-form posts, both for this and several other essays I’ve done over the years, what enjoyment I have! The ebb and flow of words, the simple joys in register and tone: I don’t focus as much on euphony as I might when writing prose, but simply glance through it and you can see how often I like playing around with modality. It is never not funny to me to write incredibly flowery phrases and counter-point with FUCK THIS or MOVIE BAD and vice versa. The act of writing is its own reward. Whether anyone else enjoys it, or finds it pretentious, or lowbrow, or simply boring, might matter to my ego, but the enjoyment of the act - that is entirely internal.But that all rather sidesteps the questions of ‘do I enjoy anything about Kingdom Hearts,’ so let me say this. In April of 2005 - almost fifteen years ago - I sat on my friend’s bed and watching him play this new game called Kingdom Hearts II, a sequel to a game I didn’t care about and had never played - but this KHII game? It transfixed me, at least for the time I got to spend at his house watching it. By the time he’d gotten into something called a gummi ship and was buzzing around a bad space sim with some Disney jerks I’d lost interest - but that prologue? Those first hours? They starred a kid named Roxas, and boy did I love him. I wouldn’t have said ‘love’ at the time, but that’s probably what is was. Roxas lived the ultimate imposter syndrome in a world built entirely for the benefit of someone else, doomed to be subsumed by somebody with bigger hair and bigger shoes. He had friends who didn’t really know him, and glitches bedevilled his steps, and there was a crushing weight of melancholy that pressed down upon him. Roxas was so, so sad - and he didn’t know why, he couldn’t even express why, and when he tried all he could come up with was banal platitudes about the end of summer, but that wasn’t quite right, that wasn’t really the issue, and he knew it wasn’t right. A countdown timer was tick tick ticking away in some grand cosmic joke that he could sense but could not confront. And there was this girl. There were two girls, really, both in dreams, one in fragments, the other who smiled at him with the saddest smile and eyes that knew the truth - that neither of them were real, and the dreamworld in which they all lived was as ephemeral as he had always feared.There’s an angering absurdity to Roxas, especially now that I’ve seen so much of Kingdom Hearts 1. We are told he is only half of Sora, or half his heart, something along those lines: he is Sora’s teleologic shadow. This is nonsense. Sora is barely a person, and Roxas is hauntingly familiar, painfully real - a kindred spirit to a long vanished 14 year old who even then was starting to grapple with the hollowness that rang in his ears, the disquiet that followed his soul. Half of Sora? Sora is a nobody . - Roxas is the true person. If there was justice in the world, than Roxas, Prufrock and I would take a long trip into the country in search of meaning and stability of being.“Why am I doing this?” you might ask. “Why do this when you don’t seem to like Kingdom Hearts.” Of course I like Kingdom Hearts - I love it. It gave me Roxas, and eight hours of a surreal and wistful summer’s end. Perhaps a bit too narrow focus for real enjoyment, and yet here we are. I am here for Roxas - no more, no less. If I must fight through dross and narrative gossamer to reach him again, so be it.The shortest answer: I said the game was poorly written; I never said I wasn’t enjoying it. 

[kuriquinn]

Hey Kuri. I just need a little life advice. How did you find your call in Teaching? I'm kinda struggling right now trying to find what I want to do with my life. Im going back to college soon but the subject I'm studying isn't what I'm interested in. I've tried to love it but its been difficult. I often times feel like a disappointment to my family because my siblings are all doing great and I feel like a loser not getting there yet.

Strap in, there, Anon, this’ll be a long one…

If I’m being honest, my call isn’t teaching - it’s writing. Even now, though I have a Big Girl Job and everything, which pays my bills and keeps my fur babies in food and toys, I consider my writing to be my real job. Even if, at the moment, it’s just writing fanfiction.

The first piece of advice I would give you for anything in your future is to do something you love. That way it will never be a chore and you will stick with it longer than five minutes. 

Now, on the heel of that, the second piece of advice is: if you can’t pursue your passion, pursue something you don’t hate. And it might take you a while to figure out what that is. 

I graduated high school with pretty decent grades, went to a good college and did well there (Liberal Arts), and I applied to university hoping to major in Creative Writing and Minor in German Language. My outside logic was: it would help me get into a writing field like journalism or translation. Inwardly, I figured I was just taking university courses while I was busy writing my novel and that before graduating I would be published and famous and rich.

Yeah, eighteen-year-old me was a bit of a naive idiot. 

Cue life-experience:

My parents were kind of wary about the whole thing, they didn’t really believe I was doing a good thing, but it was my choice and they had to respect it. They knew what I didn’t, but would learn for myself. At the time I was also working in a bookstore, which while not my passion or anything, I actually enjoyed. Work never felt like work, and for minimum wage, that’s a good thing.

Flash forward to my first semester of university, in which I learned that a) my German skills were beyond what I could be taught at uni and I wouldn’t be able to take half of the courses I needed to fill my minor, so it was basically a waste of time to take and b) my Creative Writing classes basically centered around having a published author (and I use this term loosely to define a person who self-published one grungy, literary shock fiction and passed it off as literature) get up and talk about how to write. And not write actual good stories with decent plots and characters and such, but the gritty, sensory, detailed lyrical crap…and if you didn’t try to write exactly like that person, they flunked you.

So trying to follow my first passion didn’t exactly pan out. 

I ended up switching my degree completely, majoring in Classical Civilisation and minoring in History. I figured, I love history, and I love research, maybe a degree in this could help me get a job in museum studies or as a researcher or something. The next two years passed quite nicely…and though my part-time bookstore job fell through because of crappy managers, I started to tutor a lot more (and my brother was in his last years of high school at this point, and needed my help getting through his classes) and I realised that I was actually pretty good at breaking down information and explaining it in different ways. Plus, I already had a lot of experience with learning difficulties due to my brother.

So, one year before I graduated, I get the bright idea to become a teacher. I had enough credits to switch majors, but the problem was, my university only offered Early Childhood Education…and while I dearly love little kids, more than five or six of them below the age of ten would probably drive me insane. I figured teenagers would be more mature.

(*pause* *waits for riotous laughter from Those Who Know Better*)

Anyhow, I had to apply to a whole new university program just to get into a high school teaching program. And that was the most miserable two years of my life, because teacher education is the most useless piece of trash degree you can take. You know when you learn? When they stick you in a school as a student teacher. I didn’t learn one thing from my second university degree except that sometimes the only way to move on to the next stage of your life is to sit through the boring shit and get a stupid piece of paper saying you sat through the boring shit.

And THEN…

I didn’t even get a job for another two years. 

The thing people don’t tell you about university is that when you get out, there is almost no one hiring. The Baby Boomer generation is not retiring any time soon, the job market is flooded with so many newcomers that competition is fierce, and on top of that, your chances are reduces based on what field you go into. Science, Engineering, Computers, Medicine, Business and Law? Competition will be fierce, but you will definitely have a job at the end of your degree. Anything else? Unless you somehow become famous, every other job out there has a crappy percntage of hiring, and chances are you are going to have to get an average Joe job for a year or two before you actually get hired to do what you studied.

Me, I had one learning experience where I moved to England because there’s a huge demand for teachers (and learned why there’s a huge demand is because the school system there is complete shite), and then spent a year unemployed and basically acting as an unpaid domestic/caregiver because my mother was sick (I lived at home, though, so that’s why it worked out). I still tutored when I could, but I didn’t have as many clients as I had hoped for. Things were so bad at this point and I was so depressed I couldn’t even write…

I did finally get hired, but the way I did won’t make you feel better. I basically sent my resume to one of the schools where I did my field experience, telling them I was available for tutoring in the upcoming year. I got a call back (on my birthday) to see if I was interested in taking on an actual teaching job - they remembered me from my internship and remembered my brother (who once was a student there).

So I basically got the job because I knew someone.

And that’s the reality of it. You will not get a job (in certain fields, at least) unless you know someone. Networking and good interview skills are so important to getting hired these days, and your ability to be social (or fake being social) is key. 

Even now, I’m not exactly secure in my job. As a teacher in the private sector, I don’t even have a contract. I literally spend every August sitting by the phone biting my nails hoping that they’re going to call me back for the year.

But it’s a foot in the door. You always have to think about it that way.

Contrast this to my brother - he finished high school, took a trade (auto mechanics), and had a job within a year. He now makes and will continue to make more in a year than what I will in two. He had his forever job at 19; I didn’t find mine until I was 27.

Now, if you’re still with me and I didn’t bore you with my life’s story, here’s the take away:

1. Pursue your passion. If you can make a living from it, you’re one of the lucky few. Keep doing you, and don’t let anyone tell you differently. Friends, family or loved ones, it doesn’t matter what they think.

2. If you can’t pursue your passion (full time, at least), do something that you don’t hate. Something that you are good at, a job where you can show up to and do your work happily and then go home at the end of the day and not stress about. Again, if anyone is telling you to do something you hate, DON’T. In five years, you’ll be burnt out, stressed and miserable. It is so not worth it. And if this is an Average Joe Job like working in a bookstore? Fine. Do that. It gives you more time to pursue your actual passions, and looks good on a resume.

3. Get a trade. Seriously, if you put off university for a year to get a trade, like real estate or mechanics or electrician or something, you not only give yourself the ability to be hired sooner, you can also support yourself throughout your academic career - and for those of you facing a future of student loans, this is so important!

4. If you pursue higher education, be prepared to change your mind A LOT before you graduate. You might find your are more interested or better at a certain subject that you thought, or a complete loss. There is nothing wrong with changing your major or minor until you find the right fit, just make sure you get all your General Education courses out of the way first so that you have that leeway.

5. After graduating, unless you’re in certain career fields, be prepared not to have a job right away. Get an Average Joe Job to keep you going, keep sending out CVs and going to interviews, and just hang in there - you will eventually get there, even if it takes you a little longer than your friends. And network! Make sure you keep in contact with people who might be able to help you in your career.

6. If you have the money and means, travel. Because chances are you won’t have the chance to do it once you join the rat-race.

7. MOST IMPORTANT: Do not let stress take over your life. You MUST find a way to balance your life while you worry about school/career stuff. Go out with your friends, travel when you can (even if it’s just a day trip to a museum!), write or paint or play music or build models or code or binge watch your tv show of choice, or whatever it is you do for fun - make sure you do it every day. Because your brain needs a way to unwind from the not so pleasant adulty stuff.

Anyhow, that’s the advice Twenty-Nine-Year-Old-Present-Me would give Nineteen-Year-Old-Me on the eve of starting university. I don’t know if she’d listen to all of it, but I wish someone had told me all that. Especially the parts about not getting a job right away. I thought I was a humongous failure because I couldn’t find work, when the reality was, I was just one of thousands of people seeking employment in an uncertain economic environment. 

So, on that note, I hope that you managed to find some comfort or guidance in these words. Remember, you are not a disappointment and everyone moves at their own pace. Maybe you’re having a slow year and your siblings aren’t. Maybe next year you’ll be the one who has exciting new opportunities and they are stuck in a rut. Our lives are very static and you never know what’s coming around the next bend. Just keep on keeping on.

And personally? If I was struggling to love my college program? I would take a very good look at whether it was really for me.

Thanks for the ask :)

[movedto-insom-art]

hi!! i just found you while poking around for gobelins students on twitter and i love your art, congratulations on passing!! i was wondering if you have any advice on the written exam or tips on how to prepare for it? i heard that the written exam can be given in english if french isn't your first language...

I’ll try to be very concise about this andmaybe pin it to my profile because I was in your shoes exactly a year ago, andif I made it here I think you have a considerable chance of making it too as long as you’re willing to put work into it. I want totell you what I wish I had been told.

Disclaimer: I’m definitely not the best personto ask. I’m self-taught and my situation may and will differ a lot from yours,but on top of that, bear in mind Gobelins has a ~5% admission rate. During theinterview I shared room with a person who had a stunning portfolio and had been doing two years of prepclasses to get in Gobelins specifically and didn’t get in. I don’t even understand what brought me in, but I will try to at least give you a detailedguide of what *I* did to prepare.

Important: READ THE “MODALITÉSD'ADMISSION” DOCUMENT THREE TIMES AT LEAST. It has so much usefulinformation and so many points you can’t afford to skip. If your French isflaky, ask for a friend who speaks it fluently to help you out. You *must*understand it fully if you want to get in and avoid needless calls to theschool.

Also, keep an eye on the website often. Allthe information I provide here vis a vis dates only applies to a time periodthat’s already gone and I can’t predict if the dates will be exactly the sameevery year, so double check for yourself!

French

If you don’t speak French now start asap, anddo your Duolingo and “Apprendre le Français avec TVMonde” exercisesevery day. The lessons for the 4-year program are in French and while they canbe understanding with foreigners I just strongly recommend for the sake ofcommon sense that you pick up the language, just to make the most of the chanceif you’re given it.

However, you can def do the written exam in English! The exam will be printed and handed to you in both languages, it’s not so much a test to see your writing skills (ironically) than it is to prove your drawing ones.

If you pass that first round, while they won’t require any certification, they *will* test how good you are understanding and responding in French during the interview process of the second round.

I also recommend you take special conversational classeswith a private teacher or with a French speaker the couple of weeks before theoral exam to really gain fluidity, it makes a difference.

Mental Health

Preparing for all this will be sustainedstress over a long period of time. While it’ll be intensive and will demand alot of you, bear in mind that a mentality of “every minute I spend notworking on this is a minute lost” is only going to harm you. It’s alrightto take breaks, have a social life, and space for leisure while you do prepwork. It’s alright to not be drawing every single hour and rest your mind soyou can go back to work with all your might.

Try to be demanding and to pushyourself out of your comfort zone, but do it at your own pace and alwaysleaving space for breaks and stuff that will take your mind away from it whenyou need to, like friends, videogames, or just drawing for fun. A healthy business to leisure ratio is always between ½ and 2/3.

Meditate if you can, too, just 10-15 minutesevery day. I recommend the Headspace app and it has helped me keep my coolduring really tense moments.

Open Days

Go to the open days at Gobelins in January ifyou can! I took a plane for the weekend just to go, it was expensive but Ireally, really do not regret it. Here’s why:

DONOT MISS THE FIRST DAY. They hold portfolio reviews and while you may not haveyours ready just yet, it’s the perfect chance to get an insider point of viewof how well you’re doing right now and how far from your goal you are. Make aprovisional one (or do like I did and just make a tumblr blog and throw inwhatever you’d want them to assess) and arrive early to ask for a spot at thequeue.

Youget to talk to other first-year students, who will showcase their portfolio andanswer all your questions about the admission process, the school and whateverother questions you may have.

Youget to attend conferences where they explain each of their programs in detail,and the head of the department will also answer all yourquestions.

Admissions usually open right in the middle of the open days. By all means grab a seat at the computer room and save yourself a spot in the exam process asap.

Also,if you’re a foreigner like me, you should totally go to the international classand see if you can spot somebody from your same country (or who at least speaksyour language) to hang out with for a bit.

Site note: That international class is adirect entry to 3rd year specifically for English-speaking students who alreadyhave animation experience. I didn’t apply for that so I can’t tell you muchabout it, but it’s definitely worth checking out if you want in, they say it’seasier than the main track, too.

Preparing for the written exams

First off, draw every day. Even if it’s notprep work or studies all the time, you can indulge in your OCs, OTPs, whatevermakes your heart race, but draw it and do it every day. It doesn’t have to beideal or finished either, but what really matters is that you get used todrawing a lot and make a habit of it. Quantity, consistency and speed areimportant skills for animators to have as I’ve been told and they will be looking for it since one of the parts of the inteview includes evaluating how much paper you’ve filled in a year.

Grab all the exams you can get a hold of fromthe Gobelins site and do them in the specified time (they’re on the Concepteuret Realisateur de Film d'Animation class page). When you’re done with that do themagain. Ask for feedback from your teachers and improve on them. Take aperspective book (I recommend “Perspective for Comic Artists”), take a gesturedrawing book (“The Vilppu Drawing Manual” or “Gesture drawingfor animation”), take a storyboarding and character design class (I tookSchoolism’s, which are 15$/month per class, it’s very affordable) and that’llgive you a good frame of reference. And when you’re done with the exams andknow them by heart, make your own exercises. Then do the exams again. Andalways ask for feedback, critique to train yourself against every weak pointthat you don’t want the jury to catch you doing when you do the actual exam.

Sign up for figure drawing class right now,with or without teacher (I signed up to an art club without one), the soonerthe better, and go there frequently, once or twice per week, to the short posessessions (up to 15 minutes per pose, 2 to 5 minutes would be ideal). Don’tbother doing portraits or long poses because again, what you want is to producea lot, fast. Put a lot of focus on gesture drawing, movement and speed. It’llnot only be a big chunk of your portfolio if you do pass the first round, butit hones your draftsmanship like no other exercise. You can additionally trainat home with websites like QuickPoses or the New Masters Academy figure drawingvideos, but I’d really want to stress that live models work so much bettersince they force you to interpret a 3D person.

Go to your local zoo as well, once a week oronce a fortnight, and do animal studies. If you can bring a friend it’ll help alot making it more fun but try to get used to drawing shapes that are nothuman. Understand their anatomy and try to apply what you’re learning aboutgesture from the figure drawing classes.

Draw in the street, in museums, go to a placethat inspires you or that you find curious and draw it. Draw the people topractice your characterization and caricature skills. Draw buildings to showyour perspective skills. And just whatever catches your eye. Environments and perspective are important and I strongly recommend you start by drawing from observation.

If you have a cool idea in mind or find agood exercise on tumblr to try that isn’t this, do it! The teachers appreciateinterest in several fields and if you can showcase that you’re a curiousstudent with plenty of interests they’ll consider you more seriously. I didconcept art and digital painting on the side and it ended up being a mainthing of my personal project.

And finally, go to @gobelins andraid it for advice, it’s a great point of reference to start with as well. Goto the current @crfa20 and past CRFA blogs to see what the students are up to if youwant inspo and check their profiles too.

Do this for the whole year.

Admissions open inJanuary and the earlier you can sign in the better (especially if you are aforeigner like me, you must get the equivalence with French studies recognizedofficially asap, it usually takes a while to get and it’s necessary).

On a side note, for the written exam, simplifyyour tools. You don’t have much time to elaborate or fix your mistakes so Iwould recommend you do your practice with pens (so you get used to not erasinglines and being confident with your strokes) and pencils (especially if you canget both regular, mechanical and color pencils to layer your drawings forcomplex exercises like perspective). During the exam don’t even think aboutbringing pens in case you do make mistakes you need to erase though, they arejust really good training.

Side note: if you can, all this while, make space for personal projects.Nothing that you must finish, but just produce a lot of your own content. Pick apodcast and do visual development for it, do fanart, iterate on a movie’s shots, developyour own stories through visual storytelling, do character design, storyboards,comics. Steal ideas if you must to get the creative juices flowing (but don’tpost it or pretend they are your own :V). Get acquainted with projects, explore a fewideas so that the moment you’re out of the exam room when you’re done with thewritten exam you not only have a deck of projects to choose from but are alsoacquainted with the process of carrying one forward (and also have a littlework already done).

Preparing for the oral exam

The oral exam consists of 3 parts.

A first part in which you’re not present, andthe jury will judge your portfolio, sketchbooks and demo reel without you for 30 minutes.

A second part, where you must introduce thejury to an original personal project of your own made for the admissionprocess, and defend it (in French).

A third part, where the jury will just ask youquestions (they’re usually very friendly) and judge your viability as a futureclassmate. Just be yourself!

The portfolio should just have your best, besweet, short and to the point. There is a limit of 40 pages including coversand the personal project so choose your best pieces from between your projectsand your practice. It should also cover three main points

Your skillset, which should be covered byyour studies, schoolwork, observation work and partly (but not mainly) the rest of your artwork.

Your capacity for creation and personal vision(aka what your interests are as an artist), which should be covered by the restof your artwork and other projects of your own.

Your capacity to convey and develop ideas, messages andstories through visual narration, which should be your main, personal project.

I recommend you throw in both sketches andunfinished stuff along with your most detailed and refined pieces so the jurycan have a good idea of your process, your way of solving problems and how faryour skills go. Storyboards, animatics and comics will always be a positivesince you’re aiming to study a medium that is sequential.

Also, if you can, pick other students’ portfolios for reference. They don’t need to be Gobelins or even students though, if you find a good philosophy to build your portfolio around, by all means go for it. It’ll give you a good idea of what needs to be there and what can be left out.

Lastly, while they stress that you *don’t* need toknow animation to get in since that’s what you’re applying to, you can bring ina 2-minute demo reel. I made mine with an animatic and a few animationexercises on my own, but I want to repeat what they told me, the intentionisn’t to show how good you are at it already (then what can they teach you?)but to show that you’re interested in the medium and are eager to learn.

Final note

You’re applying for an animation school, keepthat in mind always. An animator is not an illustrator or a concept artist(even if they can easily become one), and what sets them apart in my opinion is the focus on speed, gesture, quantity, and most importantly, making drawings that feel alive andthat tell something. Understand the craft, ask other animators, read books onanimation, anything you can get your hands on will help.

One of the points that I feel are the mostimportant about all this is included in the Modalités d'Admission text, whichsays that they look into a quality that would literally translate to “opennessof spirit”. I think that speaks for how open minded you are to new ideas,to working with others, to learning and to considering new points of view.

Again I don’t have all the answers, but if youare “open of spirit” and really make an effort to dive into theanimation world, look for resources and friends in this world I’m certainyou’ll find them.