#in middle school. i had 50 of them and most of them were me combining two characters together to make one person and putting them in one au

[starry-bi-sky]

I'm in A Mood™ (stressed) so im going back to my roots of melting two character together into one person. So bruce wayne!danny fenton. Danny Fenton who, for eight years, grew up in a beautiful gothic manor with his mom and dad under the name "Bruce Wayne". Playing piano with his mother, running around the manor with his father.

Then when he's eight it's ripped away from him. There's blood on his hands and pearls pooling at his feet, and both his parents are dead in front of him.

And he gets shipped off to distant relatives "the Fentons" shortly after, Alfred close on his heels because someone needs to take care of him, someone that knows him. Bruce goes to the Fentons for the safety of anonymity. Gotham's press wants to sink its teeth into him.

Danny misses his city even if it took everything from him. There are shadows in his eyes and he's pale as a sheet even beside his distant cousins, and they change his name to "Danny Fenton' because nobody should know that their newest child was illustrious orphan Bruce Wayne.

They call him Bruce behind closed doors. Danny prefers it that way, he clings onto the name -- the one his parents gave him -- like a lifeline. He makes friends with Sam and Tucker. Tucker takes one look at the willowy, morbid little boy standing in the corner like a shade, ghosts in his eyes, and drags him out into the sunlight, and takes him over to Sam.

When Danny is twelve, he's still not over it -- and he's a little obsessed with the Fentons' research, with the morbid. He has books upon books on death, murder, detective work. Anything he can get his hands on. And stars. He loves stars.

Alfred owns the apartment next to them and comes over regularly. Danny clings to him.

When Danny is twelve, he's still quiet, meek, a shy little thing prone to being bullied. Freaky little Fenton with the night in his eyes and too-cold skin even before he put one foot in the grave. in a sleepover in his room with Sam and Tucker, he tells them the truth. They're his friends, he trusts them.

"My name is Bruce." he murmurs, voice quiet as the breeze, always quiet. he's staring at his star-covered sheets.

"Like Bruce Wayne?" Tucker asks, a joking tone in his voice.

Danny smiles a little, lamb-like with insecurity. "I am Bruce Wayne." And he takes them down to the lab, disrupting Maddie and Jack, to prove it. Sam tells them of her own wealth then shortly after. They start calling Danny "Bruce" in private too -- its trust. Thats what it is. It's trust.

Sam goes to media functions and comes back with aching feet and complaints on her tongue -- and Danny soaks it up all like a sponge, splayed across a beanbag chair with Tucker in her room. He's not envious of her, he used to go to events with his parents and they kept him safe from the ugly of Gotham's Elite. For the most part. He's had comments made at him, he doesn't miss them.

Alfred returns to the manor semi-regularly, Danny goes with him. he wanders the hallways and helps Alfred clean, the last thing either of them want is for their home to fall into disrepair. He brings Jazz with him next time, then Tucker, then Sam. They all help him clean, and he shows them his room. The one across from his parents', it feels strange.

When Danny dies when he's fourteen, the first adult he tells is Alfred. He and Jazz go over to his house more often than they stay in the Fentonworks building. At least at Alfred's, the food doesn't come to life. Alfred sits at the kitchen table and weeps when Danny tells him, Jazz is upstairs, and its just the two of them.

Danny's ghost form wears pearls around his wrist and the gloves look stained with some kind of black substance. He looks like a child who died in a lab accident, but he also looks like a child who has shadows dripping off his shoulders, curling at his feet, hanging from his eyes.

because amorphous blob batman has my heart always and danny/bruce will not escape it even in death even if that IS the only reason im giving him Mild BatBlob Vibes...so far

when they go to the manor, alfred helps danny make a pile of stones between Martha and Thomas' graves, nobody but the two of them (and sam and tucker) will know what it means. (not even bruce's children later down the line, not for a long, long time)

danny dives into ghost fighting on shaky feet and not half as witty as he once was in one world. he's skittish, skittering between blasts from shadow to shadow and clumsily making his way through each battle. but helping people lights a fire in him. he still has shadows dripping off his feet but there's a purpose in his eyes.

and god help him, he's going to help people.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #dpxdc prompt #this is just me torturing danny for a little bit because im stressed and i cried for an hour while i was driving so im taking it out on B #thanks for being my little stress ball danny #aha my old middle school habit of frankensteining two characters together is resurfacing again :) yall should've seen my wattpad drafts #in middle school. i had 50 of them and most of them were me combining two characters together to make one person and putting them in one au #my most memorable being skydoesminecraft and harry potter. THAT was a fun worldbuilding experience #do i think that growing up with the fentons would fix bruce/danny completely?? hurm. no. dont kid yallselves jazz is not a licensed #therapist not even at like. nine when she meets danny. she's not helping him through his trauma in the slightest. she's nagging. #she's his sister or sister-like figure before she's his therapist. would he be #*entirely* like canon bruce tho?? no. dannybruce is a mix of the both of them. but this is still the first post of the au and is more so #just me doing the equivalent of popping a stress ball so nothing is smoothed over. mostly im just trying to keep bruce's trauma prominent i #danny's character because he IS Bruce. i dont want him to just be 'danny with bruce's backstory but without any of the ugly bits'. #danny and bruce is used interchangeably because they're the same person but sorry if his personality feels imbalanced i came up with this o #the spot. was going to type more but the stress has left me. for now. watch ur back danny 👀

[penname-artist]

It took me scrolling through the dusty crophopper tag to realise your icon had changed!? I kinda did a double take and went "is that pen? Oh they changed their icon ohhh!" It looks great tho I like it:)

Anyway I was wondering if you had any headcanons for blades childhood? Does he have any siblings and such? Or just some general headcanons for dustys time with the ppaa? (I slowly feel like I'm going to start scratching at the walls in desperation for some planes content I love it sm)

I did, yes!! Hopefully it's a good combination of familiar and new, I wanted the background to stay the same XP (we don't talk about how it's asymmetrical but I'll fix that eventually lol)

And yesss, I have headcanons aplenty for the both of them ;P

Blade's the oldest child of four kids, all a couple of years apart (damned staircase children). Needless to say the house was always pretty loud, which might have been part of the reason Blake (aka Blade) had frequent migraines as a child. He was easily the most sensible and mature of the four, though April (the second youngest) was pretty similar, if a bit bossy.

Oldest to youngest of the Ranger children, there's Blake Aaron (jr), Caleb Marshall, April Beverly, and Sydney Robin. [note that that's first and middle names, yes I gave them all full ass fuckin' names lol]

Blake was always a quiet kid, and he liked to spend time alone outside. He'd catch weird bugs, collect cool objects like rocks and things, and build shit with whatever existed in the shed. Despite the nice suburbs, the kids were still, well, kids. And 50s-60s kids, to boot. They built some of the best and weirdest fortresses known to man.

He was also an avid reader, and frequented the local library for the latest copy of his favorite novels. And, because he enjoyed the attention of the kindly librarians there, who appreciated that he helped them out during the afternoons and was all around really mature for his age

He went to a relatively high-end school growing up, given the family was pretty upper-class, but even with that perk, his school years were pretty shit. He was a theater kid, and a bit of an emo (though he didn't have the balls to be a rebel) and spent the majority of his time avoiding people and being a straight-A student. That's not to say he didn't have friends, he just wasn't really a "people person". Never was, never will be lol

Had an absolute shit relationship with his father, though. He had few too many verbal fights with Blake sr, and after tearing out of the house headed for LA, Caleb (the second oldest) became the son he never had. It should figure he favored the children that followed his stead and went into the military.

Diana (le mother) wasn't too much better, although she was more sympathetic. She was just kind of an overbearing hawk parent to Blake, mainly stemming from the years of his migraines. But she didn't exactly approve of his antics either; she just wanted him to come to his senses, rather than beat them out of him.

Onwards to the Dusty bit here, I have a few fun stories of his time around with the Piston Peak team...

He may or may not have kinda sorta maybe gotten his ass whooped by the team this one time, because while helping Blade and Maru move an engine, he kinda bumped a heavy thing which fell...on Blade's foot. And he was down for a few weeks with a cast. yeah Dusty spent a night outside duct-taped to a light pole--

He earned honorable rights to the kitchen in his first week with them, after sharing some old family recipes the team started hounding him to make every time he was there. He's even got his own apron (with his seven on it, made by Dipper as a late birthday gift)

He's also joined Cabbie and Windlifter on the side during their gym sessions. He doesn't have the strength to go up against either one, but like Blade, he gets a kick out of watching them compete, and enjoys furthering his own muscle strength in the process.

He has attempted to learn chess before with Blade and Wind, but he still doesn't quite get it, so he often joins Maru or Cabbie in checkers instead (a game he's more familiar with and can kick ass at)

#disney planes 2 #disneyplanes #disney planes #planes fire and rescue #piston peak #blade ranger #dusty crophopper #ppaa

[bionic-beth]

Have you ever cut your own hair? Yes, when I was 4 or 5 while my mother was on the phone and my father was taking a nap. What do you eat most frequently? A lot of chicken and beef, mostly. Sometimes pork or turkey. Are you a fan of video games? Not necessarily. What's your favorite color combination? Black just goes with everything, so that’s easiest. Did you share a locker at school? No, I never had to do that. What's one sport you could never play? Basketball, because I’m short AF. Blue or black ink? It doesn’t really matter to me. It depends how the pen writes. Have you ever sang karaoke? At home, for fun, as kids. What was the last concert you attended? I haven’t been to a concert in years. Have you held anyone's hand in the past week? Many times, yes. What's your favorite perfume/body spray/cologne? I just use the sprays from Bath & Body Works. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning? Not very long at all. What is the oldest age you think should wear makeup? I mean...until you’re dead? I think you asked this question the wrong way. How old were you when you went on your first date? I mean, my ex & I used to get dropped off together at movies starting in high school. What's your nationality(ies)? Sense of dark and inappropriate humor. Are you an open book? It depends on the person - but sometimes. Do you think you're a good secret keeper? Yes, I’d say so. Name one fashion trend you could never follow. Uggs or Crocs. Do you prefer long hair or short hair? It’s mid-length right now. When do you plan to go to sleep tonight? Whenever I start feeling tired. Has anyone besides your family seen you naked? If so, who? Yes - middle school & high school gym...and my ex, and Jess. What exotic animal would you love to have as a pet? I think that exotic pets belong in the wild. Do you want kids when you're older? I have three bonus kiddos and I love them so much. Did your parents sign you up for anything you hated as a child? Girl Scouts, every sport under the sun (though there were a few that I actually did enjoy out of the bunch) Where's your cell phone? It’s in my pocket. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? This is always a hard one... What are your feelings about Octomom? I  don’t have any feelings towards her. Do you know of Smosh? No, and I’m too lazy to Google it. Do you drink enough water daily? I definitely do not. Is your diet healthy? It’s reasonably healthy. It’s all about balance. What's your favorite fruit? Strawberries, mango, green grapes. What was your favorite Halloween costume? I just dressed up as 50 Shades of Gray for this past Halloween. (a clean version with dirty connotations, covered a black t-shirt in gray paint swatches LOL) Have you purchased any cool objects from a foreign country? Yes, I own lots of things Made in China. Are you on a laptop or a desktop computer right now? I’m on my laptop. Where do you plan to post this survey? Just here on Tumblr. Do you remember anyone's number by heart? There are a few peoples’, yes. Are you a morning person or a late night owl? I’m technically neither.  Name something you will never try in your lifetime. Bungee jumping, skydiving, etc. What do you think is your biggest flaw? I constantly put myself down and talk poorly about myself. First physical trait you notice in the sex you're attracted to? I’m attracted to peoples’ personalities. How about personality wise? See answer above. Are you sick often? Yes, I have a shitty immune system. Would you rather have strept throat or an ear infection? I never enjoy getting both at once, either. When did you last shower? Earlier this morning. Do you have neat handwriting? I’d like to think so. Printing, anyways - not cursive. Are you a messy or organized person? I try to be clean and organized. At what age do you hope to get married? I don’t think I want to do that again. Is being thin really all that great? It depends on how “thin” thin really is. Which of the seven deadly sins do you think you're most guilty of? Gluttony, because delcious food. How much time have you spent on the computer today? This is my first appearance so sfar today. What size shoe are you? 6 and 1/2 in womens. How was the weather today? It’s sunny and warm (for November, that is) Do you live above, below, or on the Equator? I live above the Equator. Do you know how to use Photoshop? I have no need for PhotoShop. Admit it, you're thinking about someone right now. I mean, yes - now I am. Where is he/she? In the other room. Where was your first job? Babysitting for relatives and neighborhood kiddos. Favorite year in high school? The year I got the fuck out of there. East or West? I live in the NE part of the US. Where did your first kiss take place? On the lips. What color do you wear most often? I wear a variety of different colors. Who was the last person you talked on the phone to? Probably Jess. I don’t speak to many people on the phone. Have you ever done your own laundry? Yes, I’m an adult and physically capable. Have you ever been to a night club? I have not. Are you allergic to anything? Sunflower butter. What's the best place you have ever eaten? I don’t eat at “good” places. LOL Do you own a hair straightener? I do not. I have no need for it. Are you barefoot right now? I am indeed. Are you subscribed to any magazine? Not since when I was back in high school. Puppies or kittens? We pet for both teams in this household. If you had a billion dollars, where would your first investment be made? A home library, because I love to read. Actually, my first answer should’ve been paying off the house and the 3 kids’ college educations, I suppose. Oops LOL Who is the best artist you've seen live? Imagine Dragons. Any major plans coming up this week? Nothing out of the ordinary. Did you know they never told you Arnold's last name in Hey, Arnold? That’s okay, I never had a need for it anyways. Would you rather watch a romantic comedy or watch a thrilling horror movie? A romantic comedy, for sure. Why is Paris Hilton famous? She’s not as popular as she used to be. How is your hair styled right now? It’s not styled. Favorite person that you've talked to today? My girl - and our kids. Do you need AC right now? Today, yes - it’s turned on. What do you think about cheating/cheaters? They suck, obviously. I’m not really sure what else you’re asking here. Do more people call you by a nickname or your first name? Lots of different nicknames. I’m never Elisabeth unless I’m in trouble or signing my full name as a signature or something like that. Name something you're proud of. Making it this far in life. How much does it suck to learn something 'the hard way?' It doesn’t suck as long as you learn something. Are you a hopeless romantic? Only to a certain extent. How do you feel about couples who say 'I love you' too soon? Good for them. Say it if you feel it. Just realize that the other person isn’t obligated to say it back until they’re ready. Both of your feelings are valid. What's the most recent favor you've done for somebody? Let one of our kids attend a playdate. Are you at home right now? Yes, there’s nowhere else that I would be right now. What did you last spend money on? Food, bills, etc. Does any accent annoy you? No, but some are difficult to understand. How about turn you on? Not necessarily. Are you wearing any jewelry? Not at the moment. Do you get along better with your mom or your dad? I don’t get along with either of them anymore. Are you craving anything right now? I need to decide what to do about lunch. What's worse: Crocs or Uggs? Both of them. Do you knock before you open doors? I always tend to. Do you know what a sock on the doorknob means? Yes. Chocolate or vanilla? Depends on the food. What's your zodiac sign? Sagittarius. Does Fred from Youtube annoy you? I don’t know who that is.

#survey #random survey

[empress-leo]

Day something of working in a Bengali restaurant

It was finally fucking busy. This was probably because of the combination of the local football team playing and the races but it was refreshing. I like when the restaurant is busy cause it means that my adhd goes from brrrrrr to efficiency(TM).

Anyway I met some fuckin awesome people today

So there was this group of two guys right. And they looked like typical hard lads who had grown up a bit to middle aged. So I go to ask them if they want pompadons, and they say “I love your haircut.” Anyway that put a smile on my face. They also immediately asked for four pompadons and a bottle of Rosè, so I have a new favourite kind of guy.

Later they asked me about myself and what i was planning to do, and then I explained it and they thought it was really cool and wished me luck. Which is pretty cool. I’ve had some people talk to me like that before, but they’re all regulars and also coincidentally all old ladies.

There was a big group of twelve who had just come back from the races. I got them their pompadons (15) and asked for their drinks, and one lady immediately said “two bottles of white wine and a bottle of red.” Which is kinda wild. If people order wine they usually just get one bottle. There was one group that did the more traditional thing of ordering one bottle of wine and but I don’t interact with them much because it was so busy. Anyway the people in the group also ordered three pints and two martinis, which are kinda dull to make tbh. Their first round ended up being £79 which is more than most people spend of food. Even a group of four that have all three courses and two rounds of drinks will usually only rack up £70-80. Their total ended up being close to £320 which is epic.

One of the things about working in a restaurant is that sometimes the people will stop to have a chat with people they already know. This might only happen once or twice a week, but tonight it seemed like everyone knew everyone. Fuckin wild. Every time someone came inside to eat it was like ten minutes before they sat down because they were talking to people.

Eventually the group of twelve got so drunk they started to reminisce about their childhood, and let me tell you it’s wild to see a 70 year old man talk about his school days with the man sitting next to him. It also happened to be his birthday.

Speaking of special occasions, we had a couple came in and it was their tenth wedding anniversary and they were celebrating it here because this is where they had their wedding reception ten years ago. But the craziest thing was that Udin (my manager) showed me pictures he still had of their reception. Which is pretty cool.

Another thing we did ( I say we but this was only my boss’s doing ) was bring an order to a group of people. Normally we don’t do this but this was a special occasion where the people ordering was a snooker club ( the president of the club had arranged it ) and that was like 50+ people, which was a lot of food. I’ve never seen so much pilau in one place. But what was also special was that my boss brought all the food in large trays and cooked it in front of the snooker club in special custom made tandoori cooking ovens and other things which were imported from Rajasthan.

He also used his new Tesla as a truck to haul all this food.

There was a group of three which was clearly a mother and father and daughter. The daughter had pretty vividly dyed red hair, but it looked really cool. She asked for something called a Double Malibu with Pinapple juice. I’ve never even heard of this before, but Udin’s son ( who works here on a Saturday ) had and made the drink. Anyway I suspect the girl had been to university.

I also learnt which foods are more typical of Bangladesh rather than India. I actually originally asked if we had any food which was specific to Bangladesh and not India, but he said there isn’t really anything from Bangladesh you wouldn’t find in India. So anyway, the three menu items we have are Khati Gosht, Luari Murgh, and the Bengal King Prawn. The third one isn’t much of a surprise, but still.

When it gets really busy, sometimes my hearing aid either doesn’t work or works a bit too well, amplifying all noise. In times like this I rely on lip reading and intuition to get by. So with that in mind.

There was this group of four people, and they looked kinda university age, and sorta acted like that as well. Anyway they were really nice, but when they arrived it was really noisy, so I started to not be able to hear them so well. This was a problem as I had to take their table order, but I managed to do it. Anyway when the time came to take their bill, I was doing the thing with the credit card and chatting with them and one of the girls in the group ( there were four of them ) makes a motion with their mouth. I think she’s asking something or saying something, and I lean in and say “can you repeat that?” Apparently this came off as a little aggressive, but they laughed it off and one of the guys made some comment about my action ( I didn’t catch all of it ) I laugh with them and say “I’m sorry, I thought you had said something. I’m deaf so I’ve mostly Been lip reading all night.” The simultaneous looks of shock, awe, surprise, and bewilderment that appeared on the girls face was something I’ll never forget. Absolutely beautiful. Anyway then the card transaction pinged and so I went back to the bar.

I think that’s pretty much it for tonight.

#adventure #waiting #waitress #restaurant #Bengali #bangaladesh #India #food #adhd #deaf #deafness #indian food #drinks #Malibu

[animeheadspace]

The Power of a Playlist

mitsuya x reader

summary: mitsuya makes you a playlist, and it takes you about a week to realize that he basically asked you to date him cuz you’re slow.

warnings: n/a!! this is super fluffy. 

mitsuya and you have been good friends for quite some time now. both of you went to the same elementary and middle school, and you were quite comfortable in your relationship to hang out at each other’s houses frequently. and of course, you knew about his involvement in toman; though you were worried about his safety, you would never fail to drop by at his house to make sure that his sisters were well taken care of whenever he texted you that he would be late due to a toman meeting. 

you developed feelings for the responsible young man, a feat you didn’t consider easy judging the declining quality of boys that surrounded you on a daily basis. truly, you loved him and his sisters - they already felt like family. both mitsuya and you were sharing hot chocolate under a blanket in front of his tv at his house when you had asked mitsuya to create a playlist for you. it wasn’t like it was weird; both of you guys made them for each other from time to time. he smiled, and said sure. 

a couple days after, he had given you his crafted spotify playlist. and for the next week you happily listened to each of this songs - after all, they were the perfect mix of songs you loved much and songs that were worth exploring. but you noticed that mitsuya’s smiles didn’t reach his eyes the more the week went on, and how he stopped placing a protective arm over your shoulders when you walked around the streets of tokyo. 

you were confused. but it was 6am in the morning and you were heading to your school in a bus because you didn’t live in walking distance to where you studied - you were too tired to care. so you went to switch the song in your playlist. however, you noticed something weird. carefully scrolling down the songs, your eyes popped out of your head, and catching up with your sleep was irrelevant. the first letters of all the song titles combined spelled out, “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH GO OUT WITH ME”. 

you best believe you were the first person to scramble out of your cramped bus, locate mitsuya, and tackle him to the ground, your screams of “I LOVE YOU TOO” echoing throughout the campus. but most importantly, they warmed mitsuya’s heart, a smile stretching across his ears even when teachers warned that they would report you both for being so loud. 

a/n - did this instead of the 50 billion college app essays i have to write :) 

#mitsuya x y/n #tokrev mitsuya #tokyo revengers mitsuya #mitsuya x you #mitsuya scenarios #mitsuya headcanons #mitsuya fluff #mitsuya takashi #takashi mitsuya #tokyo revengers #toman gang #toman founders #toman headcanons

[allthatyoulove]

The Perfect Spot

Fred Weasley / Reader

Summary: You get to stay an extra night at Hogwarts with no supervision. So what do you do? Play hide and seek, of course!

Includes: underage drinking, cussing, fluff, making out

Words: 3.8k

A/N: I’m thinking of doing a part two to this, let me know if that’s something you guys would like! Hope you enjoy the story! Feel free to leave any feedback and please let me know of any warnings or errors I missed! Thanks for stopping by :)

---

Tonight’s the night.

All of the professors and staff of Hogwarts have gone to some motel in Hogsmeade, leaving the 5th through 7th years in the school by themselves for the night. It’s tradition for the 5th-7th years to stay the night in the school without supervision after school ends for the summer.

It’s a new tradition, so we were going to make the most of it before some kids ruin the school and it gets disbanded.

Fred and George snuck in a bunch of alcohol, spreading it around the group and trying to keep it lowkey so none of the other kids snitched or, even worse, wanted us to share.

We were all in the corner of the long corridor that the students decided to sleep in for the night. It was exactly like the dining hall, but there were no tables or stage. The windows were the only source of light as the sun began to set. We weren’t sure what time it was, only being able to go off of the moon from inside the corridor, but either way, most of the group was already plastered.

We were sitting in a circle, in the farthest corner of the room, in this order from right to left: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Me, Fred, George, and Ginny. We each had our own pillows behind us, intending for us to all sleep with our feet in the middle and in this circle formation we had created. There was one huge blanket in the middle covering all of us that George had engorgio-d so no one would fight over it.

We were lightly drinking the bottles the twins had brought at the beginning of the night, then Ginny said she had an idea but we all had to be drunk for it to be fun. So we picked up the pace, and now almost everyone was hysterical. Harry and Ron were extremely smiley, laughing at almost everything. Hermione was almost in tears, telling everyone how much she loved and appreciated them. The twins were making jokes, making everyone piss their pants over what they were saying. Ginny was being the loudest, trying to playfully argue with everyone through her laughter. Everyone was feeding off of each other's energy, which made a circle of laughing and whisper-yelling.

“-and then 50 bloody spiders the size of Hagrid started chasing after us!” Ron finished.

“Ron there were like 3 spiders, mate” Harry said, bursting out into laughter. The rest of the group clutched their stomachs in laughter while Ron’s face turned red, soon laughing along with us.

Tears started to leave my eyes from how hard I was laughing at Ron’s attempt to sound brave in front of Hermione. We all knew he was deathly afraid of spiders, so it made it all the more funny.

I was coming down from how hard I was laughing, wiping my eyes when I felt a hand brush the side of my thigh. I looked to my left, at Fred, to see his eyes on George, who was making a comment to Ron about him being a coward. The knuckles of his hand were brushing the outside of my thigh underneath the blanket.

My entire body heated up, the voices of the people around me being tuned out as I focused on his touch.

I have had a crush on Fred since I first came to hogwarts, but in the past year he has flirted with me more than ever before, touching me whenever he gets the chance whether its his knee against mine when we sit next to each other or putting his arm around me while walking through the campus. I’ve noticed it, but didn’t want to get my hopes up or read the situation wrong and make it weird between us.

But with his hand going from brushing my thigh to resting his hand on it, I don’t think it could be read wrong. His hand sat on top of my thigh, with his fingers resting on the inside, lightly moving it back and forth.

He continued to pay attention to the rest of the group, who were engaged heavily in another conversation, darting his gaze to different people and even adding in some things himself. My eyes followed whoever was talking as well, but I couldn’t hear anything they were saying. I was too focused on the way Fred’s hand slowly got closer and closer to the apex of my thighs.

“Okay, listen up you lot. I think we’ve had enough to drink, which means it’s time to share my master plan.”

My eyes shot to Ginny, being snapped out of my trance at the sound of her yelling over the laughter.

The rest of the group followed, immediately snapping out of their laughter to listen and leaning in as if she was going to tell us a secret.

“I was thinking, what if we played…”

She waited a second, as if a drumroll was playing in the background to announce her idea.

“Hide and seek.”

The entire group gasped in shock, frantically looking around at each other and agreeing with how good of an idea it is. Ginny looked proud, nodding her head in confidence as everyone got excited.

“Should we have everyone else play? I think the more people, the better.” Harry said, looking around the group for their opinions.

“Yeah I think if we had a small group of seekers and the res’ were hiders, that’d be better. We could split it evenly so we switch after all the hider’s hv’been found.” I said, getting an adrenaline boost at how fun it was going to be. There were 429 students in the 5th-7th years, but most of them weren’t convinced to stay another day after school had gotten out. So, there were about 150 students in the hall right now that would be playing. It was going to be a good game.

Everyone nodded and agreed in confirmation to what I said, and Ginny got up to yell out the directions and rules to everyone else in the hall.

We all got up, trying to gain our balance after drinking on the floor for so long and giggling when Ron almost pulled George down with him after he started to fall over. We brushed off our pajamas, hiding the bottles underneath the blanket while Ginny was giving her speech.

“Alright I think everyone’s got it. You guys can pick which team you’re on, I think they’re already splitting themselves into groups over there.” Ginny said, coming back to the group as the rest of the corridor broke out into loud conversation. George was the first to speak up.

“I’ll be a seeker with Harry and Ron. You all can be the hiders because you lot can’t even see straight”

Hermione giggled, clutching onto Ginny to stay balanced as Ginny spoke up, pointing at George.

“You’re on, Georgie. I may not be able to see straight, but…”

We waited for her to finish, as she stood there with her finger pointed at him. It was quiet in the group for a couple of seconds before everyone burst into another fit of laughter.

“Let’s just get the game started” Ginny said, turning red and turning around slowly so she didn’t fall over.

We started walking out of the corridor, following the rest of the large group of students that were headed that way as well. Everyone had grabbed their wands to use as light in finding our way around the huge castle.

Fred caught up to me, grabbing my elbow that was holding my wand to get my attention. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, careful to hide what he was saying from the others.

“Have any ideas on where to hide?”

His breath on my ear made me feel fuzzy inside, whether that was magnified by the alcohol or not, and I smiled up at him, knowing that I looked absolutely plastered.

“No clue. What’re you thinking Freddie?”

He smiled his mischievous smile and pointed with his head towards the doors we were about to walk through, leading to the hallway.

“I’ve got the perfect spot. I’ll show you.” He said, rather seductively.

My stomach fluttered as I smiled down at my feet. He rested his hand at the small of my back as we walked through the huge doors together, shuffling into the hallway with the group of kids. They were making a huge half-circle around what we could now see was Ginny, the hallway being lit up by the lanterns hanging on the wall.

“Anything outside of the castle is off limits. No Forbidden Forest or going out to Hagrid’s hut, because no one will find you and the castle is plenty big for everyone to hide. No magic cloaks or spells to see any footprints. The seekers will give you 5 minutes to find a hiding place, so make it good.”

Everyone was quiet, listening to Ginny give surprisingly good and clear instructions with how drunk she seemed to be 2 minutes ago. She was a good leader.

“Those are the only rules. So, let’s do this!”

Everyone gave a quick cheer combined with claps and talk of where they were going to hide. Some kids started to run away right away, squealing in excitement and rushing to get to their hiding places.

Fred, Ginny, Hermione, and I joined with the rest of the group while we waited for the other hiders to clear out.

“You are going down, mr. chosen one!” Ginny yelled at Harry, linking her arms with Hermione and walking off towards the stairs.

Harry blushed a little and laughed, turning in towards Ron and George, who looked like they were already coming up with a plan for attack.

Fred and I looked to each other, smirking. The alcohol definitely did nothing but amplify my attraction towards him. Seeing him in the dim light with his hair slightly ruffled, in a black shirt and plaid pajama pants while I’m drunk was definitely… sinking in. He towered over me and had his arms crossed over his chest, looking down at me with a smirk. If I’m being honest, one word from this man and I would jump into his arms. I had all night to gawk at him, and the low conversation from the people behind us reminded me that the timer was going down and we already spent a good minute just staring at each other.

“So where’s this place you had in mind, Weasley?”

“I thought you’d never ask” he said, grabbing my hand and turning to go down the hall opposite Ginny and Hermione.

We walked until the first turn, turning left and going down another long hallway before coming before a staircase.

“Just up here” He said, guiding me up the flights of stairs.

He broke into a light jog up the stairs and I struggled to keep up, trying to keep my balance. He had taken the same amount of shots I did, but he was also a giant so I’m sure it had less of an effect on him.

We reached the top of the stairs, and Fred looked all around him at the three different hallways in search of something.

“Y’know where you’re going, Fred?”

“Yeah, of course, umm….”

He looked around once more before settling on the hallway to his left, which looked like a last minute decision.

“It’s this way, trust me” He pulled my arm forward so I was now in front of him, wrapping his arm across my back and settling his hand on my waist, using his hand to hold me in place in front of him. I kept walking until he turned me, stopping us in front of a door.

“Go on, open it.”

I reached out and opened the door. It was pitch black inside, and before I could protest against going in, he ushered me inside the small space and closed the door behind us.

“Fred-”

“Lumos.” He whispered. The tip of his wand instantly lit up, brightening up the small room as I looked up at him. He smirked down at me, his gaze wandering over my face.

“Was this your plan all along, Weasley? Get me alone in a dark room?” I flirted, smirking at him as I stood on my tippy toes to look at him closer.

He faked a shocked gasp, “How’d you know, you little minx?”

I smiled at him as I settled back down on my feet, starting to fall back a bit before Fred’s hand instantly shot out to grab me and hold me in place. I didn’t register it in time, instead looking around the space we were in.

The light that Fred’s wand was supplying was rather dim, but perfect for showing the contents of the room.

Filch’s office.

There were a few dressers pressed against the wall, with a desk and chair in the middle. There were small artifacts around the room, but nothing that caught my eye. I gazed over the room, but it was all just a blurry mess to me. I turned back around to Fred, seeing that his eyes never wandered from me. I smiled up at him, looking at his lips and just waiting.

“You’re so beautiful” He said, cupping my cheek with his hand that wasn’t holding his wand.

“Not so bad yourself, Freddie” I said, leaning in.

He smiled at me, meeting me in the middle and pressing his lips to mine. I closed my eyes and leaned as much as I could into the kiss, hearing the faint sound of his back being pressed to the door. I held onto his elbows, deepening the kiss. He leaned his head forward, making me lean back. I stumbled backwards a little, and one hand left my face to wrap around my waist, bringing me in closer to him.

I softly moaned into the kiss, causing him to tighten his hold on me and lift me up completely with the arm around my waist, turning us around so I was against the door. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and both of his hands went to the bottom of my thighs to hold me in place. I heard the faint noise of a student yelling, signalling that they had started to look for everyone now.

Fred pulled away, kissing my neck instead as my hands went to his hair.

“Fred, they’re looking for us now” I said, out of breath, warning him in case he forgot that we were in a game of hide and seek, like I had.

“Mmm” he mumbled into my neck. I could feel him leaving hickeys that I would have to make up an excuse for later. I couldn’t grasp that this was happening, teetering on the line between euphoric and giddy on what I was feeling, what I was doing.

I had waited for this for so long, I couldn’t do anything but feed off his adrenaline and excitement in this moment and meet it with my same feelings.

He picked me up and pulled me away from the door, lifting his head to give me a quick peck on the lips before we were moving. My arms wrapped around his head right away, feeling the room spinning from how drunk and turned on I was right now.

His hand shot to rest across my back, resting on my shoulder as he walked over to the desk in the middle of the room. He sat me down on it, standing in between my legs. It was completely dark in the room again, Fred’s wand being the only thing turned off during this whole interaction.

He reached over and clicked on the lamp that was on the desk, both him and I turning slightly as our eyes adjusted to the dim light that filled the room. I opened my eyes slightly, turning back towards him as he did the same.

He smiled a big smile at me, nodding as if assuring to himself that this was actually happening.

“Wicked.” He breathed out, still smiling from ear to ear.

I let out a breathy laugh, pulling him in by his neck for another quick peck. He pulled away slightly and rested his forehead on mine, looking at me.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Oh don’t be daft Freddie, you’re drunk” I giggled at him.

His expression turned moderately serious right away, scaring me that I had said something wrong or ruined the vibe.

“I’m being serious, you git” He joked, smiling at me and pinching my side.

“Ow- okay, okay! I believe you! It took you long enough to show it” I said, smiling back at him.

“Whaddya mean it took me long enough? I just figured out you liked me 2 minutes ago!”

“Who’s the git now? I’ve liked you ever since I came to this bloody school” I said, leaning up slightly to kiss his cheek and smile at him.

He looked at me incredulously, freezing in place.

“You’ve liked me that long? And never said anything?”

“Well, no… I didn’t want to make anything weird if y’didn’t feel the same way”

“You’re insane” is all he said before grabbing my face and leaning in to kiss me again. I smiled into the kiss and pulled the cord to the lamp again, turning it off.

This kiss was even more heated than the last, both of our hands roaming each other's body. My hands were going from his hair to his face, his going from my face all the way down to my waist, groping and pulling whenever he could. He tasted like cherry and alcohol, and I was getting drunk all over again, this time on him.

He pulled away once again, trailing his kisses from my neck down to my chest, exploring it with his tongue.

All at once, I heard 2 or 3 people’s footsteps running from the stairway down the hallway, towards the direction of the room we were in.

“Fred, fred” I whispered, nudging his shoulder to get his attention.

“Hmm?” He hummed, slowing his actions but continuing to place kisses on my collarbones.

“There's people coming this way” I said, using the hand I had in his hair to lightly tug on it, pulling his face up to meet mine.

He pulled out his wand, aiming it at the door.

“Colloportus” he whispered, making a gesture at it before I heard the lock of the door locking into place softly.

I fake-gasped at him before whispering, “You’re cheating!”

“I’ll make it worth your while, darling” He said, smiling, kissing me before bringing his attention back to my chest.

My hand went into his hair as I gasped out his name, encouraging him.

His hand barely dipped into my pajama pants, messing with the band but never going any further. I was ignoring the footsteps of the people outside at this point, not caring about the game.

“Fred, please” I begged, trying to hint at what I wanted from him.

His fingers dipped just below the fabric when suddenly someone from the outside of the door grabbed at and shook the handle.

“Hey! Someone locked the door!”

I grabbed onto Fred’s shoulders, craning my head to look over at the light underneath the door. He did the same, immediately moving his hands around my waist as if they could burst into the room at any minute. We both sat there looking at the shadow underneath the door as they shook the handle a couple more times before stopping. We froze for a second, waiting for something else to happen before we heard them run off.

He turned to me, and my eyes had started to adjust to the dark enough so I could see him looking at me with his lips swollen and his eyes dazed. His hair was ruffled, and he looked more drunk now than he did before we came into the room at all. He looked beautiful.

We both burst into laughter at the same time, burying our faces into each other's necks. I pulled away, pulling his face up to meet mine and fixing his hair as he looked at me with admiration.

“We better get out of here before someone gets your sister and it gets awkward” I said, looking into his eyes.

He huffed in irritation, dropping his face to my shoulder. We stayed like that for a minute as I ran my hands idly down his back, enjoying his presence. I didn’t want to wait too long, though, and have to walk out with hickeys on my neck to a group of more than 100 students.

He must have read my mind, because he straightened and stood up before backing up a step and holding his hand out to help me down from the desk. I took it, doing a little hop off of the desk as I took a second to regain my balance and brush off my pajamas. I took my wand out, casting “Lumos” to look around and make sure we left everything as we found it.

“You’ve got a little something there” Fred said, pointing at my neck.

I looked at him in confusion, following his eyes to brush my neck before I saw him break into a smile and realized what he meant.

“How am I supposed to explain that, bloke? You better hope it’s dark out there!”

He just laughed as I finished my scanning of the room and came to the conclusion that it looked as we found it.

I scanned Fred really quick, letting out a quick laugh before speaking.

“I think you’ve got a little situation too, Freddie”

He raised an eyebrow and followed my eyes down, before shooting his eyes back up at me and using his hands to cover where I was looking.

“Alright, very funny.” He said, suddenly uncomfortable with the way he was standing.

“Aww it’s okay Fred, it’s totally normal”

He turned red, motioning at the door with his head.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get out of here”

I laughed and turned towards the door, hearing the sound of him messing with his trousers as soon as my back was to him. I turned off the light at the end of my wand, unlocking and opening the door slightly, peeking out and scanning the hallway. It was still dimly lit, with no one in sight.

I beckoned Fred over with my hand as I slowly snuck out into the hallway. He followed me, softly shutting the door behind me. I stood up straight, looking at him as he scanned the hallway as well.

“I guess we better go get found then, yeah?”

“Let’s do it” I smiled at him as he grabbed my hand, intertwining them. We started down the hall and got to the top of the stairs before Ginny and Hermione came around the corner.

“Ha! Gotcha! Finally, we found you! The whole team of seekers were looking for you guys, you were the last ones!”

I laughed as Fred turned to look at me, our eyes meeting.

“I told you I had the perfect spot”

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter universe #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fluff

[audreydoeskaren]

History of Chinese standing collars (part 3: post republican era)

Quick recap: I was debating with myself whether “Mandarin collar” should be a thing because standing collars throughout Chinese history looked different. I went through the Ming and Qing dynasties in part 1 and the republican era in part 2, now I’ll look at what comes after that. I numbered the styles in parts 1 and 2 but they’re only guidelines so you don’t have to remember anything.

So in this post we’ve kind of reached the end of the era where fashion consisted of a single silhouette in any given year and all hell ran loose. I’m having a lot of difficulties classifying things as Chinese or Western because the distinction is really blurred, and I also ran into problems explaining why certain historical European things looked so similar to Chinese ones so there will also be a lot of confusion. 

1950s & 60s Chinese application

Summary of 1950s fashion, mainland and others.

Because of the communist victory in the Civil War, fashion in the mainland was different to other (capitalist) areas populated by the Chinese diaspora such as Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan etc.. Let’s look at capitalist area fashion first; I’ll be referring to Hong Kong because Hong Kong was the center of cheongsam making at the time.

Collars on 50s Hong Kong cheongsam grew taller on the basis of collar style 10 but retained the rounded, tapering edge, resulting in a v shape gap down the middle that weirdly recalls collar style 6 from part 1 and part 2. It’s basically completely identical to collar style 6 but stiffened and extremely form fitting. It’s usually closed with one pankou at the base but because of westernization, 50s cheongsam often had no visible pankou----everything is closed with snap buttons, zippers or hooks and eyes/bars. An important aspect of collars of 50s and 60s Hong Kong cheongsam is that they left out the binding around the neck. All cheongsam prior to this point were bound around the exterior edge, the side closure, the slits and the collar seam (on the bodice not the collar), 50s cheongsam collars purposefully neglected the binding at the collar seam for some reasons. This makes the collar look like it’s one continuous piece of fabric with the bodice, which it isn’t. A lot of modern representation of cheongsam or any Chinese inspired clothing (in video games, books and anime etc.) do this, even if the character is from before the 1950s. It REALLY bugs me. If you are an artist or writer and designing costumes for Chinese characters prior to the 50s, please include binding/trimmings on all three seams, it’s an easy way to bump up historical accuracy. With that said, completely plain collars without any binding or trim was actually the most common. Let’s call this collar style 13.

Source here

1954 photograph of Li Lihua and Clark Gable. Collar style 13 with stiffening and no collar seam binding. You can see how firm and neck hugging the collar is, contrary to a lot of modern cheongsam collars which are saggy and loose.

The popularity of collar style 13 continued into the 60s. When the cheongsam fell out of popularity, it ceased to exist as well.

Source here

60s cheongsam with collar style 13. I’m really not a fan of the nude/light lipstick trend of the 60s, like, as a person with no lip color definition it makes me look like a potato.

Now moving on to mainland collars. In the 1950s, cheongsam with the 40s collar style 12 were still occasionally seen, but the fashionable collar shape also became taller and was similar to the Hong Kong collar style 13. Interestingly, some 50s mainland cheongsam retained the binding around the collar seam, making them look more “traditional” in a sense. However, collars both with and without collar seam binding existed and it was just a matter of personal preference.

Source here

1950s photograph of a mainland lady in cheongsam. The collar is taller and closes with one button, much like Hong Kong collars of the era, but the neck binding is present.

Aoku robe collars from the 1940s onward mostly had the 40s style low collar, although in the 50s and 60s they rose in height very slightly.

Source here

1964 poster showing a girl in aoku, the robe has a low, rounded collar.

However, garments with a standing collar became worn a lot less frequently in the 50s and 60s in both mainland and non-mainland areas, since a lot of people adopted Western fashion.

Source here

1950s photograph of a group of mainland people wearing jackets of Western construction. Some of them seem to be wearing informal military jackets, commonly known as “Mao suit” or “Zhongshan suit” nowadays, with folded collars.

Source here

1950s photograph of some women in Malaysia, some in cheongsam and some in Western New Look dresses.

Western application

I think it’s also quite important to discuss how Chinese standing collars were perceived by Western designers, because the Western fashion industry does hold a lot more power globally and also reverse influenced Chinese collar designs in the post 1960s era. So, in the 1950s and 60s Western designers thought cheongsam was really cool and produced a lot of affordable sewing patterns for their versions of cheongsam. I think this is also because pre-1950s cheongsam didn’t use the Western construction method and patterns needed to be individually drafted so it was difficult to make mass produced sewing patterns. From all the sewing patterns I have seen personally, the super tall standing collar popular in Hong Kong was not really appreciated by Western designers at all?? Western cheongsam sewing patterns all had the very low 1940s style collar, combined with an hourglass silhouette New Look bodice and skirt, looking rather anachronistic. These collars also didn’t have binding/trim around the collar seam, in line with fashionable Hong Kong cheongsam of the day. 

Source here

1950s Advance sewing pattern for cheongsam. The collar is low and has rectangular edges, something about a decade out of fashion in Hong Kong and Shanghai. No collar seam binding.

Source here

1950s Simplicity sewing pattern for cheongsam. Likewise with super low 1940s collars. Collarless cheongsam died in China in the mid 1920s, yet it lives on in the imagination of Western designers. By the way, the frog closures with a quatrefoil shape are not Chinese, I’m gonna write another post about this. I love the look in the middle it’s very glam.

1970s and later

The post 1960s era is what ultimately created the confusion around standing collars nowadays. Around this time Western and Chinese fashions started to merge and become one, and garments made completely in the historical Chinese method were more and more difficult to come by; Western construction techniques reigned supreme. 

From the 70s onward, most “Chinese collars” had the 40s rounded edge shape but were either medium low or medium height. The lack of collar seam binding persisted into the current day, which is something I kind of lament because without this binding collars easily read as Renaissance doublet... (more on that later)

I usually avoid calling any standing collars from the 1970s onward Chinese/Mandarin because 1) standing collars were never a uniquely Chinese thing to begin with 2) since cheongsam was no longer fashionable among actual Chinese people, designers who made cheongsam pulled all kinds of shenanigans without any historical precedent whatsoever. Also, since clothes with structured/stiffened standing collars stopped being a staple in the average Western person’s wardrobe, white people started calling everything with the most remote hint of a standing collar Chinese to further stir the pot, emboldened by the cultural appropriation craze of the 60s and 70s. Ok that’s very loaded, but it’s true that in the 60s and 70s there was a lot of Western clothing designs that took inspiration from other cultures without permission. Westerners could totally design and wear Chinese style clothing given that the intention is respectful and they know about the garment in question, but a lot of times the accuracy of the designs leaves much to be desired. There was also a lot of Orientalist inspiration in the 10s and 20s but the borrowing back then wasn’t so... literal. When I look at so called cheongsam sewing patterns from the 70s onward, I sometimes seriously have trouble identifying if something is meant to be Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese, Polynesian or any other region/culture...

I’ll just find pictures of Chinese inspired clothing from the 70s onward with a “Mandarin collar” label and point out their source of inspiration.

Source here

1972 Simplicity sewing pattern for cheongsam. It’s the same Western collar from the 50s and 60s just slightly taller. Oh and the closures used on the two designs in the middle are again likely not pankou. After the 60s, this neck design with a oval shape keyhole cutout became quite common and that persisted to the current day. Don’t know what the purpose of that was, just because you show 5 square centimeters more skin doesn’t mean your cheongsam is sexier?

Source here

The description of this 70s Simplicity pattern says “Mandarin collar” but the source of inspiration is obviously Japanese military/school uniforms, AGAIN. The collar’s height and rectangular edges, combined with the placement of buttons above the waist on the bodice, everything about this reads as Japanese. The frog closures on the left are once again European and not Chinese pankou (sheesh I really need to make this other post). The original designer probably meant for it to be Japanese but the seller mistakenly labelled it a Mandarin collar design. 

Source here

70s Teresa Teng (rest in power legend) in a theatrical cheongsam with a similar collar, either a stretched version of the 40s collar or a shrunk version of the 50s/60s one.

Source here

Google search result for “Mandarin collar dress”. Same Western low collar from the 70s. A new problem with modern mass produced cheongsam is that the collar oftentimes doesn’t fit the wearer and appears too baggy. Or maybe it’s not mass production, just that people nowadays are very unaccustomed to wearing tight fitting standing collars so they assume there needs to be some extra space? As someone who wears stiff standing collars on a regular basis I have to say it actually isn’t uncomfortable at all and elongates your neck a lot better. This is what most cheongsam collars nowadays look like, even the self proclaimed “traditional” ones, they literally originated from 1950s/60s Western sewing pattern companies’ interpretation of contemporary Chinese cheongsam collars.

Source here

Baidu search result for “Mandarin collar suit”. This, is, literally, almost a replica Japanese uniform. The seller is also using the tag Zhongshan suit lmao (I’ve explained in my 1950s mainland post what a Zhongshan suit is not supposed to look like), delusion is not a fragrance I guess. Why is it so hard to let Japan be Japan and China be China??

Conclusion & afterthought

Another thing I need to mention is that standing collars are by no means unique to Chinese historical dress; they were also widely used in European historical fashion, long before standing collars became worn with uniforms of “Mandarins” or Chinese officials, which further proves my point that “Mandarin collar” is not a valid term. Also, standing collars in Europe have always been stiffened/structured, whereas Chinese collars only started to become stiffened around the 1890s, possibly due to European influence as well. For example, the 1950s collar with rounded edges and no collar seam binding reads as European Renaissance doublet very easily. To be fair though, a lot of the collar shapes seen in early 20th century Chinese womenswear had been done before in European Renaissance fashion and during that time period in China only the OG Ming Dynasty collar mentioned in part 1 was used sooooooo

Source here

1630-40 English doublet. The collar looks mighty similar to 1930s Chinese women’s ones. I know next to nothing about Renaissance fashion so I’m not sure how it’s constructed, but it proves the point that collars like these were not a uniquely Chinese phenomenon.

Source here

Meanwhile the Mandarins in China. He’s wearing a crossover collar robe underneath a round collar robe, no standing collar here.

Source here

1780s French men’s coat with a standing collar.

Standing collars were also commonly used in Victorian and Edwardian women’s everyday fashion without any connection to China whatsoever.

Source here

1860s fashion plate for a gown with a low standing shirt collar peeking underneath. 

Source here

1887 fashion plate from the Journal des Demoiselles. Bustle gowns with standing collars.  

Bonus rant

I have come to the actual point of this series of posts, to answer the question: should “Mandarin collar” be a thing? In which case I’m gonna have to go with no. In the three posts I made on the topic I categorized a total of 13 collar styles, each distinct from each other and some being inspired by Western clothing, and showed that the use of the term “Mandarin collar” nowadays is very vague and ambiguous. I don’t understand why people in the fashion industry give my ancestors all the credits for a design feature as basic and common as a standing collar... Maybe it’s a marketing gimmick like how Sternhalma (a German board game) is advertised in the US as “Chinese checkers”?? Or maybe it shows that a lot of fashion designers lack a basic understanding of historical fashion? Either way it makes no sense. I think the concept is also slightly offensive since it simply ignores the diversity of actual historical Chinese standing collar designs, kind of reinforcing the racist stereotype that non-white fashion histories are static and never changing.

If I do have to pick a most traditional/iconic style of Chinese standing collar, I would go with either the original Ming Dynasty soft collar with metal buttons or the 1940s short collar with collar seam binding used on aoku, cheongsam, changshan and magua. In the mainland Chinese countryside, the 1940s style collar was preserved and actually still made today, but in the post-Mao era it became increasingly seen by the mainland population as 土 (a derogatory term for Chinese folk stuff meaning tacky or cringy) compared to the exciting new Western fashions being imported at the time. As a result, more traditional items of clothing like aoku for women, changshan and magua for men were neglected in favor of more westernized cheongsam designs, leading to some cursed contraptions.

Maybe this is a hot take, I personally really don’t vibe with the concept of 土 because it’s very loaded and usually the gateway drug to massive internalized racism. I’ve heard so many people bash aoku and magua constructed in the historical method and put post-60s Western inspired cheongsam on a pedestal even though the former is grounded in history and the latter is an Orientalist mess. There is nothing wrong with making aoqun, aoku, magua, changshan, cheongsam or any other historical item of clothing in the historically accurate method, they’re charming in their own ways and don’t need to be “modified”. In my opinion, the puckering under the armpits caused by the lack of a shoulder seam and the rounded shoulders are what makes historical Chinese clothing beautiful to begin with :3 I think there’s something inherently modern and authentic in the pedantic, antiquarian pursuit of historical clothing, like you know how whenever a revival happens it actually brings something new to the table? It’s not problematic to wear modern cheongsam designs per se, it’s just important to keep in mind that it doesn’t have much to do with actual Chinese history and represents more of the status quo of Chinese fashion nowadays.

Ok I’m going off the collar track but it’s time to finish this post. Thank you for reading, and as I mentioned, the next post will be about Chinese pankou. I’m almost finished with that one as well and I’m really excited with what I have planned next :D

#historic fashion #chinese fashion #cheongsam #vintage fashion #chinese history #1950s #1960s #1970s

[obeymeluv]

You Steal the Boys’ Clothes

Something I’ve been thinking of for a while.

Lucifer

It was rare the eldest was without his cape, as everything seemed to be a formal event and he must be dressed to impress. Being dressed to impress, however, means being clean so he gets it cleaned from time to time

Lucifer is a very organized, practical man. Constantly towing the line of obsessive for the sake of orderliness.

He knows where his cape should be, and that it’s not there

With a demon’s-only screech that warns Mammon to stretch his calves and run, Lucifer hunts down the three most likely suspects to interrogate them (Mammon, Satan, and Belphegor).

He tries to get a two-for-one by dragging Mammon into the study where Satan sits smugly with a book (because he knows he didn’t do it but MAN is he enjoying this!)

Imagine surprising not one, but THREE demons when you come shuffling down the hall with a Lucifer’s cape wrapped around you like a blanket.

It whispers and it drags and it absolutely DROWNS you.

Very charming. Ethereal, almost like some sort of wedding wear

Lucifer would’ve never imagined you’d be the culprit, and now his poor brain is trying to save and process the idea of you looking so sleepy-happy in his clothes

And the ex-angel falls all over again.

He catches the little cheek nuzzle and way you bunch it around your body, a foot poking out not to get tangled

Satan and Mammon will probably die laughing instead of at his hands, but Lucifer could really care less

Lucifer idly wonders where you’d curled up that he totally missed you, and escorts you gently but red-faced to your room

Satan and Mammon tag along, and when they see Lucifer come out with his cape they can only deduce he put you to bed.

Mammon

With no homework to do and some money in the bank, Mammon was ready to spend the weekend tearing up the town with you!

He was fresh out of the shower and mostly dressed, searching feverishly for his beloved white and brown jacket

Mammon wasn’t the cleanest person by nature (hello, money hoarder and collector of interesting/valuable things) so he tidied up as he went

As he started to suspect one of his little brothers was holding the jacket for ransom, he sent out a group text asking about it

There were several typical smart-ass responses (Lucifer, Asmo, and Satan) and he was in the middle of a snark fight when you showed up at his door somewhere between bashful and chill

In HIS jacket

Mammon’s brain shuts down.

HIS baby in HIS jacket? HELL YEAH! OH GOD, IT’S TOO PERFECT!

FIEND, TAKING HIS HEART!

“It’s kind of a human thing,” you explain. “There is a one-jacket fee among couples. Usually it’s a hoodie.” you tease, reluctant to shrug it off, “But this seems to be your only jacket so I guess I could give it back.”

It’s very subtle, but he’s worn that jacket for centuries and no amount of detergent can disguise the scent that makes his heart skip a beat

Something about the smell of your skin and a hint of his has him purring

You hold the jacket out to him. Mammon wraps his fingers around it and swings it around until he’s holding it over one shoulder

The yellow takes over in his eyes a little more. Gets a little brighter and intense.

“You want to take anything else off?” he husks playfully

Your day out turns into staying in and Mammon is happy to trade his jacket for a shirt you can sleep in (like, forever. It’s fine. Whatever, dummy.)

Leviathan

It was actually really hard to steal Levi’s clothes because he lived in his hoodie and turtleneck. His RAD uniform was really just for show and that wasn’t what you were looking for, anyways. You didn’t want to chill in uniform.

He was very particular about his merch because certain shirts were collector’s items and he didn’t like people messing with his folding patterns

You went to Asmo with your dilemma and he found it absolutely ADORABLE. It was almost enough to make him jealous, really

Somehow (Asmo being Asmo?), the fifth- born was able to swipe one of the green button-ups Levi wore under his RAD uniform

His first thought was to alter the garment to make it fit you (matching outfits? YES!) but Levi would probably kill him. His big bro hated shopping for clothes unless he HAD to have them.

Asmo gets the bright idea to magically/temporarily alter the fabric to fit you. Maybe Levi will like it so much he’ll just give you a shirt! 💖 (Or get some fucking outside time and go buy more shirts!)

Levi catches his own scent somewhere outside of the door and his brain goes off. He hits the pause button at lightning speed.

No one else smells like him! They haven’t shared bath products in centuries! He already finished his laundry so what’s happening?!

His first thought is: Mammon broke into my room while I was in the bathroom and stole something to pawn!

Levi doesn’t even think to take inventory of his stuff, barging out of his room to hunt down his big brother

He’s yelling and whining before he even sees him. Then he sees you. In his shirt.

All the angry words die in his throat as the absolute mortification and adoration sets his face on fire

SO KAWAII! It basically makes up for your normie-ness.

Levi’s stuck standing there, blushing his head off and unable to say anything as his fists shake with joy and nervousness

He gets a nosebleed. One of his brothers are laughing at him.

You guide him back to his room to take care of him, Levi lets you and becomes very fascinated with the idea of you in his clothes .Lots of petting and figuring out you look DOUBLY MEGA CUTE when the magic wears off and you’re just in a pool of fabric.

He’s totally down for matching clothes and definitely lets you keep the one you’re wearing.

Satan

His wardrobe is very...interesting...to say the least

Colors and personal combinations aside, Satan actually has a very smart wardrobe. Lots of basics and easy layers.

You can’t steal his signature green sweater or the blazer he seems to live in, so you settle for an emerald knit sweater that has a bit of a v-neck/university feel to it

It takes Satan a while to notice, as he’s buried in a book. You two tend to gravitate towards each other and just enjoy a cozy, companionable silence

He’s just finished a book and is debating cracking open one from the stack to his left when the color catches his eye

The smooth, sly comment dies on his lips when he realizes he likes the damn thing because IT’S HIS

You look very cozy and warm. It’s a very ‘cuddle me’ kind of look.

Perhaps you could warm his lap? Or give his poor hands a rest under the hem?

Very cheeky and clever. Grabs you by the sleeve of it just to ‘answer his curiosity about whether it matched his nails’.

Does he have a cute university student kink? If he didn’t, he does now?

There’s a 50-50 chance of you guys having sex.

Will definitely want to hold you and cuddle you close, petting the fabric and whispering compliments into it.

If you don’t already have a business/academic attire, Satan will definitely suggest a few pieces because YES. This is a thing he loves and it DOES things to him.

Asmodeus

He’s the type to let you think you stole something

Probably stages what he wants you to steal just so you take it

Honestly, I could just see him dumping some of his clothes on you because you’re dating now and this is a cute thing he read about!

It’s super likely he’s into couple outfits or coordinating outfits, so he’s either spent time in his closet pre-planning or asked you to try on a million things just because

This cutie pie purposely orders THE BIGGEST thing he can find so you can both fit in it at the same time

Asmo loves you to pieces no matter what, but seeing you in his clothes makes him squeal and hit a note Mammon has threatened to murder him over

Ever dramatic, this is like, THE BEST THING EVER

A MILLION Devilgram posts about it (safe ones, of course)

Do you guys spark a couple’s trend and spade of lover’s stealing each other’s clothes to snap a victory pic? Maybe

Probably fake faints at the sheer glory of you in HIS bomb ass clothes. Definitely fans himself

Spoils you rotten with compliments

This man is weak. “Gorgeous! Smother me.” as he falls back on the bed and gestures to his face

He won’t turn down the idea of sexy times (depends on your libido, comfort, etc.) but sometimes he makes raunchy jokes just to be funny. Smothering could also mean using him like a body pillow (which he’s totally okay with).

You get max cuddles and WILL be the envy of Devilgram

Beelzebub

Beel felt a little guilty for leaving you at the House of Lamentation with his brothers

You guys were supposed to hang out after school but there was an emergency practice. The coach always got pre-game jitters and demanded a few last runs. He showered and ran back to the House, hoping you still had time for him.

He tiptoed quietly into his shared room, unsurprised to find you waiting there for him. You’d been caught in Belphie’s sleepy little aura by the looks of it,

Beelzebub couldn’t help the grin or little hum that made it past his lips. Your eyes were open but he didn’t know if you actually saw him. You looked super cute in his humongous bed though

You were getting sleepier and sleepier, your eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Beel pulled the sheets over you and gentle untangled the arm you managed to latch on to

Maybe waking up to a bit of food would make up for everything! Beel toiled away in the kitchen, making a cute little snack tray for the two of you.

In reality, it could probably feed at least twenty, and he ate at least half of what he prepped.

Beel returned to the room with what he considered a decent amount (scraps, kind of, but enough variety! He tried! It’s the thought that counts!) and was surprised to see his sheets all tangled and half-kicked from the bed

You were wearing his jacket now, passed out and turned into the furry lining that usually went across his shoulders and neck

DId you sleep walk? He was trying to understand how you’d gotten into his jacket

Beel realized it was the first time you’d been in his clothes and it was enough to make his heart melt

Super huge on you, obviously (extra fabric everywhere), but so cute! He could basically swaddle you in his jacket

“They’re a restless sleeper,” Belphie yawned. “I thought it would help them calm down.”

It used to work on Belphie, so Beel could see why he resorted to it

Beel offered his twin some food, sitting carefully on your other side.

He shifted some of the parka fur away from your face, trying to fix your hair and nudge your chin up so your nose wasn’t buried in anything. He stroked your cheek a little, mesmerized by the sight of you and how you felt.

Belphie declined, muttering something about, ‘Stop looking like that and eat your food! Gross!’ before Beel settled for patting your head one last time and eating quietly

Belphegor

He’s another one that’s hard to steal from

You’d think it’d be easy since he sleeps all the time, but Belphie really only wears 10% of the clothes he buys

Yes, he’s a pajama snob and has all things comfy and cozy, but hardly any of them smell like him because he falls asleep anywhere with little issue (no special clothes required!)

You thought about stealing his blue cardigan with the pocket, but he’s always sleeping in it!

Belphie picks up on your train of thought, and the frustration, because you fall asleep thinking about it. Dreaming about coyly stealing his cardigan and being all cute and snuggly in bed

It’s enough to wake him up, shuffle to you, and break your sleep. He flops down on your bed with his cardigan unbuttoned and says ‘climb on’ while patting his chest

You’re obviously sleepy and confused and he loves it. Belphie slides you onto his chest and wraps his arms around you, resting bits of the fabric on your back as you settle into him

It’s not the same but it’s close enough

Would you be offended if he got you cow pajamas so he could snuggle you like his favorite pillow? He falls asleep wondering about the answer

He wakes up to see that Beel has covered the two of you with his favorite blanket.

You in his blanket? Against him? Slowly smelling of him and his clothes? It’s the best thing to fall asleep to.

Makes a joke out of your clothes-stealing quest by stripping one of his pillowcases off and putting you in it like a little sack. You have to stay on his bed now because you’re his pillow and all pillows stay on the bed.

“What? You wanted to smell like me! It’s something I use!“ Belphie defends as you wonder whether or not you like this human pillow thing while he snuggles you.

#Obey me! #Obey me! x reader #Lucifer x reader #Mammon x reader #Leviathan x reader #levi x reader #Satan x Reader #Asmodeus x reader #asmo x reader #beel x reader #Beelzebub x reader #Belphegor x reader #Belphie x reader

[illyaana]

Squiggles - Oikawa Tooru

Thanks to @pocky-writes for this collab! It was so fun to do~ Check out all the other writers involved in the collab here ヾ(•ω•`)o

Tags: Oikawa's POV, Angst, Minor Fluff, Cursing, Kissing, SFW, Manga Spoiler (Oikawa and Iwaizumi's future jobs)

Synopsis: You entered Oikawa's life - and it hasn't been the same ever since. (If I give anymore, it'll be spoilers TwT) (I also named Oikawa's sis Miho-)

Word Count: 4334

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All stories are basically a squiggly line - it has ups and downs with multiple loops in random spots. Some parts might be thicker or shorter than others, but all points of the story make up a giant, huge squiggly line that either brings you joy or sadness. I wanted my story to be as thick and long as possible - to outshine all the other squiggles the world has to offer. It was going to be the best squiggle ever until you came along and made it loopier and uneven.

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I remember the first day you came into our class so vividly.

I had rushed to the school to copy Iwa-chan’s homework. The Kitagawa Daiichi blazer I wore was soaked in sweat thanks to me running a few blocks in several minutes. Of course, Iwa was in the classroom, waiting for school to start. He had rolled up his sleeves and was reading the literature component assigned to us - the very book I never touched ever since volleyball practices began.

“You are of a different breed, Oikawa,” Iwa-chan mumbled as he passed his book to me, “This is the last time you’re doing this.”

No, it isn’t.

“Yes, sir.”

I pulled out my book and began to move at top speed, hoping I would finish before class began.

That’s when you opened the door, breaking my concentration.

You were glowing. The school blazer seemed so big on you - as if someone with a bigger physique gave it to you - but you look so precious in it. You had a jump in your step, a wide smile plastered on your face. Your hair looked so soft even from a mile away. You seemed so at peace with everything - even when you entered a new school.

You carried yourself with such confidence it scared me.

I loved being the confident one, the hot one, the cheerful one - yet you stole those roles from me the second you walked into the school campus.

I didn’t know what I felt; was it inferiority or was it just pure admiration? Maybe a combination of both?

All of this… It was so new to me.

I was always surrounded by those who were eager for my approval - to be part of my posse and be connected to me in some way, but I just wanted to be around you. It was the first time I ever took an interest in anyone excluding my volleyball team.

It’s weird, isn’t it? The feeling of warmth rushing through your skin, but your throat just feels tight - it doesn’t want you to say anything you would regret, so it tries to hold you back. Your palms sweat and become clammy, goosebumps rise on your skin - it is so freeing yet restricting.

I wanted to come and welcome you to the school - maybe take you around the school grounds, show off a bit at the gym, find out who you are as a person - if I got lucky, even get your phone number.

“ ‘kawa, are they new? I feel like I’ve never seen them before…” Iwaizumi asked, pulling on my rolled-up sleeve.

Of course, this had to happen, didn’t it?

Iwaizumi tried to cover his red face with his arms, but he was failing miserably. His forehead began to sweat, a trail of water dripping down his chin. His chocolate eyes glowed just like your skin - so much so you could see the hazel flecks within them. His whole arm was covered in raised goosebumps, just like mine.

He was attracted to you.

“I think they are,” I replied, hiding my feelings with a smile, “Why Iwa-chan? Oh my god Iwa, you’re blushing!”

Iwaizumi threw a book to my face, earning a groan from me.

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” he says, blushing in a deeper red, “...but yeah, I think I do.”

“Well, if you want them to swoon for you just like how almost all the girls of the school do for me, I can help you. Just with the daily fee of milk bread during recess, I can turn your single ass into a full-fledged bachelor!” I say, trying to lighten up the mood.

“I'll buy you milk bread for lunch, either way,” he mumbled.

“See? It’s basically free, isn’t it? The best part of it all; it comes with a free gift! A box of milk every day so that you can grow taller-” Book number two found its place on my forehead once again.

“You’re such an idiot,” he says midst chuckling, “Thanks for the offer, Tooru. I think I’ll do this by myself, though.”

“Ok, then! Just so you know, the offer is always on the table,” I smirk, teasing the shorter male even more, “Don’t forget the milk.”

“I am never buying you anything ever again.”

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Classes went on as usual, but I couldn’t focus at all.

I kept on staring at you from my seat - enjoying every single thing you did. I saw how you’d raise your shoulders in frustration when you couldn’t understand a question, how you’d bite the end of your pencil when you were focusing on the class, how you’d play with your fingers when you were stressed - I was taking mental notes without even realizing it. I loved all the small little huffs you’d make when you’re agitated. Judging by how you were speeding through most of the questions, you seemed to be a smart student.

I kept on playing small scenarios that I would do to get your attention.

Maybe I’d ask you a question and act like I couldn’t understand the whole topic so that you could tutor me, or I should just ask you about your opinions on the essay topic we discussed in class, or I could tease you about that small thing you did in front of the classroom when the teacher wasn’t looking.

But I would never do that to Iwaizumi.

My mind replayed that small scene of him blushing just at the mere glance of you. If he could, he would’ve already gushed about you to me - tell me all the things I already knew just by looking at you. He’d go on and on about how you squinched your nose when you drank that hot drink a bit too early and burnt your tongue.

His squiggle was already slowly moving around you, making a loop fitted for you and you alone - and I will happily watch from the sidelines when you two finally become a thing.

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“Welcome back, Tooru!” My sister said from the kitchen, “Give me a minute, I’m helping mom prepare lunch.”

I placed my bag in front of my room and headed to the kitchen.

“Don’t make poison, please!” I tease her, enjoying the annoyed expression on her face.

“Tooru!” Mom sighed, “We’re inviting our new neighbors for dinner today. Go shower and get ready.”

I stuck my tongue out at my sister, earning an anger-filled hum from my mother. I ran to my room and soon headed to the shower to get ready.

Slinging the white towel on my shoulder, I head back to the kitchen area and set the table for the meal.

“Where are they from again?” Miho asked Mom.

“They’re apparently from Tokyo. The father passed away recently, so the mother had to bring the rest of the family to Miyagi to reduce the financial burden. Sad, isn’t it?” she replied.

“We should help them here and there,” Miho started, “We don’t need to give them money, but maybe help them get used to the city?”

I nodded, but I wasn’t present in the conversation ever since Mom mentioned Tokyo.

“Do they have a kid my age?” I ask, hoping that I’m wrong.

“I think there’s one that just transferred to your school?”

Please, don’t be who I think it is.

The doorbell rang, shaking me out of my thoughts.

I slowly headed to the door, gripping the doorknob tightly as I slowly opened the door.

I was right.

“Hello, Oikawa-san! It’s me, Y/N, from your class,” you said, a smile on your face.

“I just wanted to thank you and your family for your generous offer, but we can’t join you for dinner today,” you started, “Mom has to go get some things settled before she can come for dinner. Sorry, again…”

“What about you? Have you eaten anything yet?” My mom asked as she walked towards the door, “If you want, you can eat dinner here and bring some back for your mom.”

“Really?!” Your lips widened, “Thank you so much, aunty!”

You sat right beside me, just like Iwa-chan does when he comes over. I loved seeing you talk so comfortably with my family. I could see my mom’s adoration towards you when you talked about your life back in Tokyo. Your eyes lit up when you talked about your family - even if you were talking about your father.

You didn’t know it yet, but your presence makes my squiggle a little lighter.

“What school are you going to, Y/N?” Mom asked.

“I’m going to Kitagawa Daiichi like Oikawa-san. I am in his class, actually... “ you trail off.

“Do you want me to walk you to school? I don’t mind doing it, but Iwaizumi would be joining us too. Are you okay with that?” I ask, gripping the ends of my shirt.

For the first time in my life, I hated the fact I had to be beside Iwaizumi.

“Thanks, Oikawa-san. It means a lot,” you smiled.

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I regret asking you that question.

I had to see Iwaizumi try to flirt with you.

I had to see how you’d occasionally lean your head on my shoulder when we walked to school until Iwaizumi met up with us in the middle of our walk to school.

I had to see Iwaizumi carry your bag - something I wanted to do.

I had to see Iwaizumi make small jokes to you - something I wanted to do.

I had to see you enjoy Iwaizumi’s presence - something I wanted you to only feel for me.

I had to let it happen in front of me, didn’t I?

Books and movies never compare to the real thing; to see the person you love gush over someone you love like a sibling.

But you were closest to me, not Iwa-chan.

You came to me when you had problems, not Iwa-chan.

You stayed over at my place to relax, not Iwa-chan’s.

You watched movies with me, played games with me, told secrets to me - not Iwa-chan.

Your squiggle intertwined with mine more than Iwa-chan’s.

“Tooru,” you said as you played with the rogue strands of my hair as your head laid on my lap, “Do you want to go out on a trip?”

“What? Why?”

“We’re graduating, but we never had a trip together. It’s weird, isn’t it?” You say, slowly getting up.

I pushed your head back on my lap, earning a muffled squeal from you.

“It isn’t, to be honest,” I say, “...but I do like the idea.”

“So, we’re doing it?” you say as you wiggle your feet in excitement.

“Yeap. I’ll ask Iwa-chan if he wants to join,” I say as I grab my phone.

“I was kind of hoping that it would be just the two of us? I haven’t been able to talk to you without anyone intervening for a long time, and there’s a lot I wanna talk about.”

You looked at me, hoping for some reaction, but I couldn’t say anything.

If I was not friends with Iwaizumi, I would’ve said yes almost immediately.

I know I love you - ever since I saw you, I have.

But Iwaizumi deserves someone amazing like you.

I don’t.

“Tell me, then! I don’t think Mom’s coming home anytime soon and Miho is working right now, so there isn’t anyone who’d disturb us now,” I say through gritted teeth.

I felt your disappointment when you sighed and moved to lie down on my bed.

“I guess I’ll tell you another day.”

I felt your squiggle moving away from me - moving on without mine.

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Soon, our one-week trip to Tokyo began.

Thanks to months and months of pestering, our parents let us go by ourselves to the city you grew up in.

I could see everything in your eyes, thanks to your stories about this place. The small, quaint shops, the smell of freshly made Taiyaki at the side of the road, the small kids running on the pavement while being chased by angry parents - all of it.

“Oikawa!” you patted my shoulder, “That’s the bakery I talked about last time. You know, the one with amazing cheese tarts? Oh, that’s where my dad gave me my first cup of coffee!”

Iwaizumi chuckled as he focused on the road, admiring your love for the city.

“Why are you laughing, pine cone hair?” You tease Iwaizumi, trying to get more reactions from him.

“Nothing! You sound cute, that’s all,” he said as he focused on the road.

“Oh, really~?” You move closer to Iwaizumi and whisper something in his ear, making him blush instantly.

There it is.

That icky feeling I hate.

Why did it come now? I was with Y/N and Iwaizumi - the people I care about the most.

Go away.

Get out.

I don’t need you.

“Well, I’ll just chaperone Oikawa then, Hajime. Have fun all by yourself in a huge city you don’t know well,” you say, teasing him even more.

Hajime.

They said Hajime - not Iwaizumi.

“Geez, get a room, you two.”

“Sad I’m taking your husband away, Tooru?”

“The fuck, Y/N!” Both Iwa-chan and I scream.

You laugh as you lean back into the backseat.

“What? You both are an old couple,” you begin, “Oikawa is the flamboyant one and Iwaizumi is the man that’s only gay for Oikawa and actually thinks before doing something.”

“Did everyone think I’m gay for Oikawa?” Iwa says under his breath.

“Yeap,” you reply, “Many girls were sad, to be honest. I kept on telling them you’re straight, but they didn’t listen,” you shrug.

“And me?” I ask.

“You were labelled as the hot pansexual, lucky you,” you reply with an eye roll.

“Why did no one tell me…” Iwaizumi said to himself, worried.

“Honey~,” I began teasing the ‘pinecone’.

“Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa.”

“ ‘Shut the fuck up, Shittykawa’ - why don’t you give an actual nice nickname for the brunette over here,” you ask him, playing with the stressed driver.

“No.”

“Do it or I’m calling you pinecone for the rest of your life.”

“No.”

“Do it or I’ll tell them-” I say before getting cut off by Iwaizumi himself.

“Prettykawa.”

“Holy shit, Y/N,” I wiped my fake tears, “He called me pretty! Darling~”

“Oh my god, Oikawa,” you say, laughing as I hug Iwaizumi’s arm.

Our squiggles were intertwined and in a good way - that’s all that mattered.

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“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi looked at me with a serious face, “I think I am going to confess to them tonight.”

Wait, you are?

Please don’t.

Don’t take them away from me.

I need them.

Iwaizumi, please don’t.

“Finally! It’s about time you made your move - I think they like you too, so you have a shot.”

It’s true - I see how they stare at you.

Their eyes are filled with admiration, lips fixed in a soft smile, their hands grazing your cheek - they love you as much as you love them, Iwaizumi.

“Thanks for supporting me, Tooru. It really means a lot to me,” he says as he hugged me, “Thanks for being my best friend.”

I haven’t been a good friend, Iwa.

I fell for the same person.

I want to steal them from you so badly, but I can’t bring myself to hate you.

I want to hate you so bad, but I can’t.

This feeling… I hate it.

“Thanks for being mine, too.” I smiled, but the smile never reached my eyes.

You’re taking them away from me, Iwaizumi.

You could’ve gotten anyone else, but you took them away from me.

I don’t want to feel this - this hatred growing within, yet here I am, cursing you in my head the minute I see you.

“Go! Why are you wasting time?” I say, pushing you towards the door.

I saw the smile you gave me as you ran to her room.

You are such an amazing person, Iwa-chan.

You can care for someone who deeply hates you.

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I saw how they were basically draped around you for the next few days. They looked so happy just to be beside you.

Each day, their eyes spoke stories of love for you, Iwa. They used to come over to my place and gush about you every day, like a ritual.

You’re so fucking lucky, Iwaizumi. This isn’t fair.

They’d go on and on about your physique, your personality and the small things you’d do.

Congratulations, they finally paid attention to the things you did for them. I’m happy for you, Iwa.

I am happy for the two of you, truly.

They are truly happy.

I could’ve never done that - never.

I just wish I wasn’t walking towards the gym that day.

I saw your first kiss under that tree - the tree the three of us used to spend under while waiting for practice to start.

I saw how their hands gripped on the back of your head, pressing themselves on you. I saw how you gripped their hips oh so tightly as you showed them your passion towards them. I saw how breathless they looked the minute your lips left theirs. I saw how they grazed your chin whilst staring into your eyes in admiration.

I pictured how it would’ve been if I was in your position.

I would’ve held them tighter, pressed my forehead against theirs so that our noses would brush against each other. They’d play with the ends of my hair, going on and on about how soft each lock was like they usually do. They’d eye my lips as I stared at their soft and supple lips. I’d press the tip of my thumb on their bottom lip, enjoying the view of their parted lips made just for me and me alone. Slowly, I would kiss their cheeks, hoping for some cute reaction from them. From their cheeks, I would drag my lips to their chin, placing soft kisses here and there.

I would then press my lips against theirs, enjoying the soft noises escaping their lips.

But I never will - you’re theirs as they’re yours.

Of all places, why did you have to choose there?

I can’t come back here without thinking about that kiss now.

That icky feeling…

It’s back.

Go away.

Get out of me.

I am happy.

“Damn, Iwaizumi,” Matsun said as he approached the gym, “Y/N’s really in love with them, huh?”

“Shut it, Matsun,” Maki said, looking at me.

Of course, he’d notice.

I am in love with his friend's girlfriend, after all.

“What? He’s telling the truth; they’re so in love with each other they can’t even see that three people saw their first kiss!” I shouted, earning a growl from the black-haired male hugging Y/N.

“Out of all the times, Shittykawa…”

“You better run, he looks feral!” You shouted, laughing.

“You sure he wasn’t feral ever since he initiated that kiss? I saw that hand wandering, Iwaizumi~!” Matsukawa shouted as he ran to the gym.

“Iwaizumi isn’t innocent anymore. You aren’t part of the gang anymore man, stay back,” Hanamaki said, wiping a fake tear whilst gripping his sides, “You’ve grown up too quick, Iwa-senpai.”

“You okay, ‘kawa?” Maki said as he turned to me, rubbing my back.

“I am fine, Maki. Go ahead - go to the gym, I’ll come in a minute,” I gave him a nod as I walked to the toilet.

That day was the first day I cried over someone in school, and hopefully the last.

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“Tooru… Tohru…” You mumbled.

“Yes, my name is similar to the main character’s. What about it?” I sigh.

“We should get you a cat. Who knows, you might kiss it and it’ll become a girl?” Iwa chirped.

“That’s a cat version of Princess and the Frog,” I say, annoyed.

“Stupid,” you hit Iwa’s thigh, “Get with the program.”

Iwa groaned as he rubbed his leg, “That was really painful, dumbass.”

“Tohru, he called me dumbass,” you whined.

“I am not Tohru - it’s Tooru.”

“Brown hair, all of the people around them falling in love with them, high pitched voice… that’s you,” Iwa joked.

“Major flaw in your theory - I am not a girl.”

“Alternate universe Tohru then,” you said, enjoying the banter.

“Tohru plays with animals, I play with a volleyball team.”

“How do you know she isn’t in a volleyball team? It was never specified she isn’t part of a volleyball team.”

“It’s never specified that she is part of a volleyball team,” I say, clearly annoyed by this conversation.

“I’m getting you a cat - a ginger one,” Iwa said, grabbing his phone from the side table.

“Don’t get me a cat!”

“Get him a cat, love. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll love it,” you said, leaning against Iwaizumi’s chest to see his phone screen.

“Holy shit,” you said, holding back a laugh, “He’s actually looking-”

“Iwaizumi Hajime!” I scream, making both Iwaizumi and you laugh loudly.

“I was looking at a cat meme, stupid.”

I sign out of frustration and look back at the TV screen, avoiding the mischievous couple.

I eyed the way they were sitting on the couch.

You were seated in between Iwaizumi’s legs, their back pressed against his front. Their hands played with Iwaizumi’s left hand, fiddling with his fingers as they stared at the screen in front of them. Iwaizumi wasn’t looking at the screen though - he was staring at his lover who was fully immersed in the scene unfolding in front of them. His right hand grazed their right hand, enjoying the feeling of them comfortable in his arms.

You looked happy, and that’s all that mattered.

The last episode soon finished and you looked to the ceiling, stretching your neck.

“So sad it’s over,” you said, smiling.

“At least it had a good ending. I don’t think I need to remind you how heartbroken you were when we watching Banana Fish’s-”

“Don’t remind me - I’ll cry here and now.”

You got off the couch and walked towards the kitchen to get a drink.

“So,” you plopped on the couch, leaning against Iwa, “What’s the final plan, Mr Tohru?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your life after high school, of course! What’s the plan? I know Hajime is planning to be a trainer, but you never told me what your plan is.”

Hajime.

Hajime.

Hajime.

Again with the Hajime.

Just use Iwaizumi, for fuck’s sake.

“...Tooru?”

I snap out of my thoughts. “Oh.”

“You’ve been out of it recently. You’re okay, right?” You say as you walk to sit beside me.

I chuckle, looking at your concerned face.

“I’m good - just stressed about life, that’s all. I am not so sure as to what’s the next step, but it’s going pro.”

You hug me from the side, placing your head on my shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you, now? Aren’t you scared that you might make Hajime jealous?” I tease.

“I don’t know - I just feel I need to do this, like a feeling that you might do something rash.”

I felt tears wet the side of my shirt.

My eyes darted to the sight of you, sobbing, gripping on my shirt.

“Don’t you dare forget me, okay?” You say through sniffles, “I sure as hell won’t forget you.”

I cup your face in my hands, wiping off the trailing tears.

“I won’t.”

You made a huge loop on my squiggle, Y/N - I don’t I can ever forget you.

.

.

.

.

.

.

TO: Y/N (2:30 a.m.)

It’s been so many years, Y/N.

You’ve blossomed into the amazing person I knew you’d be.

I saw Iwa-chan recently - after all, he’s training the Japan team.

I actually made it into a team - the Argentinian Volleyball team.

I kept on doubting myself, but you kept on reminding me of how good of a setter I was back in high school.

I know you’re busy being the big person in your industry - congrats on all the awards again, I keep forgetting to contact you.

If you’re down, maybe we can call? I miss your voice.

I sent the message, hoping you’d reply as fast as you used to when we were in high school.

I looked from the hotel window, trying to imagine how the scenery is back home in Miyagi.

The roaring fields, the birds flying in the sky as we walked down that small pathway, that traffic light you’d draw on while waiting for the cars to pass - I remembered it all.

I remembered it all just because you were part of it.

Funny, isn’t it? After so many years, I still think of you.

Not as my friend’s lover, but mine.

I shouldn’t have invited Iwaizumi to that trip.

I should’ve just kept you all to myself - protect you from the world.

I should’ve just kept Iwaizumi out of your life - not let him in at any point.

I should’ve just told him how I feel about you.

I tried so hard to get over you, Y/N.

I met so many other people, hoping they could fill up the hole you left when you left me for him. I had so many sour relationships just because I was comparing them to the rhetorical you that I dated. If the world had given me a second chance, I would be standing beside you - I would work to provide for you the best the world had to offer.

But in the end, your squiggle was meant to grow without mine. I had to accept it and move on, as much as it hurts.

Covid 19: Angst train :)

All reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!!!

#⎯ pocky's 500 collab #Illyaana | Oikawa Tooru #Illyaana | Aoba Johsai #Illyaana | Third Years #Illyaana | Haikyuu!! #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #angelwalker's virtues #oikawa x you #oikawa toru x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x self insert #haikyuu x reader #hihqnetwork

[ofhouseadama]

i know we all agree that ed went to an all-boys' catholic school and lorraine went to public school but if they *did* go to the same highschool (obvs a big one, hence why they never met before that night at the theatre) what do we think they were like together?? like i doubt they were making out everywhere (at least not where other kids could see them) but i defo think they would've been voted "most likely to get married" ykwim

so like, I a little bit decided Ed went to specifically an all-boys' catholic school and Lorraine went to public school because in the (small) town where I grew up, the only options for schooling that we had were the public school system (one elementary school, one middle school, one high school, you knew everyone from kindergarten to graduation) or the Catholic parochial schools, which were co-ed k-8 and then the all boys' Catholic high school, which had dances where girls from the public high school were invited -- anyway, that particular dynamic is something I'm very familiar with, which is partially why I went with it. St. Augustine's School for Boys is something I just pulled out of my ass because I wanted it, lmao, and Lorraine went to the very real Central High School which had over 1500 students in the late 40s-early 50s

if Ed had like, switched to Central High as a freshman or sophomore he probably would have like, seen Lorraine in the hallway or cafeteria a ton of times and not known how to approach her but been SO SMITTEN but she was SO PRETTY and always surrounded by a gaggle of other girls and their boyfriends and he would have known next to no one and it would have felt intimidating to approach her

but like, she knew, but knows that rumors follow her around from having freak outs after visions and insights and knows that soon enough, he's going to think she's crazy and stop looking at her in a way she very much Likes. she feels like an outsider even in friend group, like she's one Weird Moment away from being shunned, keeps everything she sees as buttoned up as possible and gets anxiety over having a Vision in school or in public, because she's been rejected so many times. they maybe have like, one class together, something like gym where the boys are kept mostly separate from the girls

they finally meet-meet the night at the theatre when he's on shift. we all know how that night went.

afterwards they're like, immediately that couple in high school that went from zero to Essentially Married with him walking her to all her classes, carrying her books, picking her up and dropping her off from home every day. they know the combinations to each other's lockers and drop each other notes, Ed draws her things in art class. Ed probably paints HER in art class. she's wearing his varsity sweater (because he plays like, football or maybe baseball) and his class ring is on a chain around her neck and everyone's like, a little suspicious that at some point Lorraine is going to be ~sent to an aunt's farm to help out for nine months. they're probably definitely very intense in the library together at times, or in the courtyard during lunch. they're in choir together because that's a little gift to me from myself lmao.

they are ABSOLUTELY voted "cutest couple" in senior superlatives

their prom night is the first time that they coordinate their outfits, matching her dress to his tie and then they literally never stop. Lorraine made her own prom dress and made his tie to make sure it matched EXACTLY the way she wanted it to.

#ask #anonymous #otp: i forgot my pills #emily watches the conjuring

[shadow-otousan]

Deciphering the years in which Shadowsan grew up in

 Alternative title: Debunking the supposed fact that Shadowsan is 40+ (I’m looking at you, cs wiki)

Since Shadowsan’s flashback in s02e03, this has been on my mind. After some intense image searching, I can finally share the fruits of my research. 

Let’s cut to the chase. 

This is Shadowsan as a child, then known as Suhara. (Also pictured are most likely his playmates.) The style of clothing they wear, which you can see mostly on the other kids, were fashionable as everyday wear for children during the 60s (and possibly earlier during the late 50s). This nostalgic blog in Japanese in which the author talks about their childhood and details the timeline of the decade, also describes the fashion worn by himself and his peers.

The caption (fortunately in English) as follows:

Children of everyday wear of 1965 is this is it !!

The boy on the far right and the two boys on the far left are wearing the style most similar to what we see in the flashback--sweaters worn over their shirts, and shorts that barely stop at the thighs or, if longer, above the knees. We can safely say that Shadowsan spent his childhood at least somewhere in the mid-60s.

Now on to the second decade and this time, we’ll be looking at Shadowsan and his brother. But first, we’ll be focusing on the most conspicuous example for what was considered the style of that decade.

This is Hideo as a young adult. Now the decade in which this took place was easier to figure. It might help that I had a 70s phase in college lol. The type of glasses he wore originated in the late 60s as a reaction to the unattractive and sometimes even downright butt-ugly spectacles of the past decades (except cat eye glasses but even that was a mixed bag). However, this style of eyewear really peaked in popularity during the 70s and it endured somewhat into the 80s.

Glasses became seen as fashionable with their large, thick, and colorful frames as seen in these ads. Tinted lenses, if we’re talking about sunglasses. Now what only stumps me is that I cannot find the exact example for Hideo’s glasses, as I see only one bridge on his frames instead of the more common two (those are the type of glasses Shadowsan buys for himself during the Fashionista Caper showing us that fashion is cyclical, but I digress). Regardless, the shapes are there.

As for his hair, you can simply find it by typing “70年代 アイドル 男性” in google image search. But for the sake of one example:

The only slight difference is that apparently, most of them parted their hair to the right instead of slightly to the left like Hideo does (and Masashi Sada as you can see above. Bonus points for being the few famous people in Japan who wears glasses so now I’m given the theory that the character designers lowkey based Hideo off of him. Highly unlikely, but it’s a nice thought. While we’re here, check out one of his songs like this one). His hairstyle also lasted until the 80s (because any start of the decade will always have holdovers from the previous one) until perms and hairspray made them even crazier. Hideo’s hairstyle can be describe as ‘feathered.’ Hideo’s clothes lack the then ubiquitous bell-bottom pants and wide lapels of the 70s though I’m chalking that up to even Hideo thinking those were silly (bell-bottoms could actually sweep up the dirt if you don’t wear platform shoes..I also tripped on them twice while walking ;w;).

Next, Shadowsan--este, Suhara as a teen.

Because he’s a rebel, it’s a given that his style does NOT reflect the popular fashion of his youth unless you’re in a gang (or trying to look like you’re a part of one). They seem to have one thing in common though: a buzzcut.

This was a photo of what seems to be gang members, taken by Katsumi Watanabe in 1972. The man on the middle right is the closest we have to Suhara’s style, befitting a misfit of Japanese society. On the contrary to medium-length feathered hair and colorful clothes, such rebels would go out of their way to stick out from the norm. Worth noting that the bosozoku fashion--in which elements of American choppers and 50s greasers are combined with Japanese elements (i.e. gakuran--high school uniform for males, hachimaki, sarashi, tokkou-fuku--”special fighting jacket”, etc.)--did not become quite popular until the 80s, so what Suhara wears is more or less a prototype of what will become the stereotypical look of Japanese delinquents (although those styles have actually coexisted too).

Now with all that out of the way. We can estimate as to how old they really are.

If Shadowsan was a 60s kid, that would place his birth years somewhere during the end of the 50s or the very beginning of the 60s, making him 50 plus or early 60s at the time of the show’s setting (2019).

Hideo, meanwhile, I’m just gonna take a wild guess and say he’s 5 to 7 years older (or even 10 considering how much older he looks compared to his brother in the current show), which would place his birth years squarely in the 50s, beggining, mid, or late. In the show’s setting, that would make him either 60 plus or pushing 70 years old. If 10, mid 70s or plus.

Until a concise number is given to us by the CS crew, I will strictly hold on to these conclusions as their more or less true ages. Of course, everyone is free to disagree because, after all, these are only theories and if they were to be debunked in the future, I won’t be surprised. Just a little heartbroken lol Because I’m not a historian of any sort nor am I Japanese, feel free to add on this or correct me on some mistakes I might have made.

And that concludes this post. Class dismissed ;P

(Last minute addendum: I would also like to point out that though it seems that most VILE operatives recruited are young as some argue that any VILE operative student had to be 20, nowhere in the show does it require only a certain group of young people can join. It might be entirely possible that as long as one is an adult (20 or older), one can join VILE. And Shadowsan, from the looks of it, seems to be in his late 30s or early 40s when he was a student going by his facial features. He just used to look really young bc Asian aging is a paradox. You can be older than you look, vice versa, and suddenly look like your age. But hey, like I said, only theories)

Ok, now I’m done~

#carmen sandiego 2019 #shadowsan #suhara #cs suhara #hideo #cs hideo #analysis #headcanons #cs headcanons #1970s #1960s #learning #theories

[hongsside]

Finally Us :: ⅕

pairing :: kim hongjoong ✘ male reader  ✘ yunho ( eventual poly relationship )

wc :: 3.9k

genre :: smut • romance • 

tags :: doctor au , smut , doctor hongjoong, mlm, aftercare, implied forbidden relationship, implied long-distance relationship, implied cheating, sub! reader, hongjoong switch/vers you’ll see later :>

chapter tags :: implied cheating, token of love, office sex, doctor hongjoong, nurse siyeon, cock ring.

chapter title :: Promise

sws :: blow jobs , semi-public sex, riding, cum sharing, restraints, hickies, toys, orgasm denial, choking

tw :: addiction/drug overuse in a simile form?? no characters were doing drugs its just a simile?? 

tba :: next chapter →

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(o´ω`o)ﾉ⌒･*:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･ ❝ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒ~ᵎ ❞

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“dr. kim! d-dr. kim!”, panted a miniature figure, sputtering on her words as the dark-haired individual called beforehand spun on his heel to face the short-winded woman. the lady handed him a thin bundle of papers to the man as the staggering scent of her perfume lingered in the air, only cringing abhorrently in response. with a hand resting on her knee for essential support she continued to ramble about things ranging from dinner to the documents to a reoccurring patient whose name caught the doctor's attention.

“oh, did you say y/n? i presume these are his, correct?”, visibly nodding, dr. kim, as said previously, muttered a quiet 'perfect' under his breath and dismissed the large faction of uniformed-women, striding to his office at the end of the hall.

meet the doctor: dr. kim hongjoong; dr. kim was the youngest in his field, graduating from high school at barely 16 and completing college at 23. he was a young man in his early twenties, which caught the attention of many women from all ages, what intrigued them most, was the fact he was strangely single. you could easily tell why he was favored by the women, but to their disadvantage he was not interested in middle-aged wives. although, fortunately for him, he had his eye settled on someone else already.

“dr. kim! you have a patient waiting.”, called out a steady voice from the mob of nurses. he turned his head and nodded, waving off the woman with a smile as he proceeded to open the door. the sound of keys jangling at his hips filling the now silent atmosphere; there was faint tension evident as soon as he stepped inside. he looked down at the figure before him in mere awe, adoring the way his doe eyes wandered around the room, the way his bangs fell just above his eyes, the way he sat there anxious for his presence and the fact only they knew why.

hongjoong specifically loved one more thing, and that was nothing less than the way he looked so ruined when they played their blissful little games.

in fact, he was gonna play a game today-- his game, of course.

“mister y/n, i'm more than glad to have you back.”, the doctor mused humming in approval at the man, a shameless grin forming softly as he spoke to the man. the other man nodded in return scarcely meeting dr. kim's gaze. he swallowed thickly as dr. kim's cat-like aspect glared at him almost in a challenging manner.

the uniformed-man cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses as he glanced at the fragile frame, before looking down at his papers and chuckling.

“i-is something everything okay doctor?”, he stuttered, tugging at the collar of his sweater as he sweat profusely under hongjoong’s fiery stare. making sure the door was locked, the doctor smiled.

“of course.”

“you’re here for a regular check-up, am i correct?”, he continued nonchalantly, trying his best to appear professional despite internally, he was clouded by the lewd thoughts about his patient that pestered his mind.

“right--”, the slender man nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his sweater.

“alright then, let’s begin.”, the men stood up in unison, dr. kim leading the other man to the exam table but all he could see was the small figure under him, moaning for him, just like the other night and that was close enough to make him lose it right then and there.

“doctor kim?”, y/n repeated, holding back a stutter as he flailed his hand in front of dr. kim’s bewitched expression in attempt to snap him out of his seemingly never-ending trance.

clearing his throat, hongjoong smiled; a roguish smile. knowing exactly what routine game y/n was playing, and he knew exactly how to debunk the man.

“please sit still.”, hongjoong instructed, placing a hand on the other man’s back, palming soft circles that would gift anyone a sense of comfort— that’s not what y/n wanted. slowly dragging his painted nails against his back, the doctor chuckled once more, “knock it off my love, you aren’t fooling anyone”. he whispered as the other struggled to calm his unsteady breathing while the other man had reached the waist band of his awfully short shorts. frowning, the brunette man continued.

 “come one sweetheart work with me here. strip”.

originally his plan was that he would play cold and professional unlike his usual approach of just fucking him senselessly on his office table. however, there was something different in store for the two men.

“i'm quite disappointed y/n..”, hongjoong whispered under his breath just loud enough for the smaller figure to hear. his hot breath fanned the back of his neck causing his patient's already blushed cheeks to turn 50 different shades of red.

“is that so..?”, the doll like man mused attempting to hold back the stutters and mumbles yet failing to his dismay as he slid his shirt off with the assistance of hongjoong. the doctor only chuckled in response, twirling his shorts like a flag with too much pride.

without another word hong's lips were latched onto his patient's, his tongue much too gracefully dancing with his. whimpers were revealed and soft whines let out and god knows what other filthy noises were created. tongues glided together, sucking and biting the other's lips as he ran out of breath. as much as they knew this was wrong, professionally, but his heart..and cock said differently.

he pulled away allowing them both to catch their breaths, leaving them panting in unison and the fun had just barely begun. by now the smaller man was undressed-- apart from his briefs that the slightly older man seemed to love teasing him with. his [y/n] ears had turned the same shade of red his cheeks had at this point, and hong could not help but notice. a low seductive giggle left his lips, “are you hungry yet?”. baffled even answer dr. kim continued. “i'm so damn hungry..”. his eyes overcome with lust, you realized what hunger he meant, and he surely seemed starved.

those briefs that were previously hugging the curves of the smaller man's lower body were now in his hands, he shuddered at the sudden exposure to the cold and couldn't help feel his cock twitch as it was hit by the air. he hurried to close his legs which were so beautifully displayed on hong's exam table but hongjoong was quick to stop him. the doctor had sunk down on his knees, head between y/n’s thighs which were bruised and bitten from last time. hongjoong examined his marks on his body with pride at his own creation. before he knew it his tongue was gliding across the purple works of art on the man's skin, he worked his way up higher and higher until he had reached the throbbing red tip of his cock.

god, he loved the way his flushed tip oozed out precum from just the slightest touch.

in awe, he began to lap at the underside of his cock, massaging his balls in the process causing choked up moans and grunts to leave y/n’s swollen lips-- the way his name combined with his needy moans rolled off histongue was plainly sinful but it was hong's not so guilty pleasure. his eyes never leaving y/n's, he stroked the base spreading his cum as he shifted from above in hope for more friction only to be halted by hongjoong's firm hand gripping at his hips. “m-more..”, he breathed in desire of something he wasn't quite sure of yet, luckily he knew just what.

taking him in whole, he wrapped his soft lips around his cock. the velvety walls of his mouth surrounding him-- tempting him to move as the heat of hongjoong’s tongue grazed the soft vein on the underside of his cock. truly, he wanted to mouth fuck the doctor but something told him he would pay for it later.

he hummed around him, sending vibrations of pleasure through his body still without moving.

this felt like hours, hongjoong’s lips hugging the curves of your cock: his eyes which were once commanding and powerful were now transformed into teasing eyes of playfulness and lust. waiting was unbearable and as time passed, y/n felt his cock twitch as dr. kim started to push him farther down his throat not gagging once, maintaining eye contact that could surely kill a man.

being fed up with his teasing, the man described as frail and shy had his hand now entangled in the roots of his hidden lover’s hair.  loving the way the man on his knees looked up at him and started to bob his head, taking him in fully and groaning around him not caring about who saw their .

“y-your mouth feels so goo-- oh my god~ hongjoong!”, he breathed as he reached so closed to his climax that was until pulled away from his cock with a pop, his lips parted so beautifully in an a soft ‘o’. with drool dripping from his faint pout, he swirled his tongue around the tip as he left kitten licks along the way knowing the other man was so close to losing it.

“hongjoong- p-please just ..fuck me.”, said the man on the table spreading his legs wider before turning around leaving the blank canvas of his ass on display. hongjoong truly did enjoy this, it was like his own free art show and y/n was the main piece. as he scanned and palmed the soft globes of the mans ass cheeks, he raised him hand to leave a crimson mark on them. the stinging pain soon turned into pleasure and a groan left the lips of the men.

once again the younger man felt the sudden heat and firmness in his body this time somewhere different, it was hongjoong’s forsaken little tongue. the places it would go and no one would even know was sinful, but that made it better. y/n bit his lip at the feeling of the warm wetness pushing into his trembling hole--oh how he loved that shit.

y/n gripped at the sides of the table seemingly unable to contain the noises of pleasure from hongjoong just eating him out; the power the short man had was frankly formidable and he himself knew it so well. as dr. kim continued to speed up his pace, lapping at the man’s dripping hole; the doctor slipped on a cock ring from in between his legs spread so temptingly.

jerking back in surprise, the smaller man whined, “no..hongjoong please--”,

without warning hongjoong kissed his lips, shutting him up almost like on queue. he would be a liar if he said he didn't enjoy his kiss despite still being bitter over losing his orgasm for the second time that evening. y/n’s eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction and hong let out out a sound of amusement, pulling away panting softly.

somehow the room’s temperature grew hotter and the desire for each other grew with it-- moving away from the desk, hongjoong scooped up y/n, carrying his figure gently towards the couch located in the corner of the room.

“ride me.”, purred the older man as he fumbled with the hassle of his belt and the hem of his jeans. he laid down and y/n shuffled over, placing his knees at either side of the brunette’s torso. y/n gladly obliged with the command, quickly spreading his cheeks which were soaked with spit a littered with dark-red hickies revealing his hole once again and greedily taking hongjoong’s impatient cock.

with little time on their hands, they quickly got to work. the sound of skin clapping and the show of y/n's ass bouncing on dr. kim's cock was downright pornographic-- it truly didn't help that the glass panes on hongjoong's office walls were laminated with a special paper that allowed to see themselves in this state. beads of sweat rolled down his face as he clawed at the sides of the leather couch and thrusted upwards as y/n came back down on his cock.

“god- fuck, y/n you're so tight-.”, hongjoong whispered and y/n's eyes fluttered open as one of hong's thrusts curved slightly to the left reaching a place he had never imagined. tears started forming at the curves of y/n's eyes, loving the way his cock filled the smaller man's empty velvety walls..he made him [y/n] feel full-- and literally he was. but physically, sexually and romantically he was even fuller cause of hongjoong and that was something he would never get enough of.

dr. kim loved to see it-- the way his cock disappeared and reappeared from the other man's trembling little pucker; which took him in like a fucking champion., the way his ass jiggled every time he bounced, the way his thrusts met y/n's midway. He loved it so much, it was like a drug prescribed to him that he could never let go; in a way it was like an addiction.

as y/n's bounces grew sloppier and the dark-haired man grasped onto his lover's hips, it was evident that they were both near to their orgasms; although y/n quickly became aware of the situation, hissing at the realization that he would be missing his climax for the third time, and that's when hongjoong came. y/n's abused hole oozed out cum as hong's tip continued to shoot out strings of cum inside of the patient's ass. hongjoong pulled out stroking himself to completion as y/n turned around, bitter-sweet expression painting the curves of his flushed face. He took the initiative to clean up all the cum off hong's cock, displaying it to his lover as the liquid dripped down from his tongue.

hongjoong kissed him, tongues exchanging the lingering taste of the doctor's cum. groans came from both of them, hongjoong rewarding the younger man by stroking his neglected cock, pulsing between his shaking legs.

“your turn”, the man sighed still catching his breath from reaching his previous high. he was certainly euphoric and his head was in the clouds, the feelings of bliss and pleasure they brought each other was remarkable and that was undeniable to the both of them. but with the clock ticking and the appointment coming closer and closer to an end, they didn't have much time left to dawdle on the limited time they had to spend. without another word hongjoong got rid of his tie, wrapping it around wrists of his patient and pinning them above his head. y/n's bangs were stuck together by sweat, dripping from his temple to his exposed chest, suddenly hongjoong made his way to his desk not forgetting to teasingly drag his fingers across the other man's skin sending shivers down his spine.

once reaching his desk, he opened the top left drawer and retrieved a royal purple vibrator. just the sight of that toy gave him flashbacks, it was like a golden ticket for his climax-- the only thing in the way..was the cock ring. hongjoong stepped closer, kneeling just before him, admiring the way he sent back the gaze of overbearing lust and desire and the way hints of red adorned his naked body.

as the doctor slowly thrusted the vibrator, y/n bit back moans and rolled his hips in hopes of something more. hong turned up the intensity level while also picking up the pace making his lover grow louder by the minute. before he knew it a knot was forming in his stomach and a hiss left his lips as hongjoong feathered his fingers above his tense abdomen. the sight itself could've made him cum. while rolling his hips downwards, gradually fucking himself on the toy, y/n felt something else enter his pucker once more-- hongjoong's cock. now this was something that made him grow in desperation for his climax, knowing that once he did it would be memorable.

hongjoong gave his hips an experimental roll, testing the waters anew for a reaction; receiving just one when y/n's eyes rolled back and a broken moan left his swollen lips. he knew how much he loved his and he was more than willing to give it to him. his free hand much too useless on the sidelines, as he reached down for his throat grasping at the sides leaving y/n basking in the overwhelming pleasure he was obtaining.

“right there, please ah- god!”, he gasped, arching his back so hongjoong's thrusts met his prostate so nicely, releasing sounds he'd never made before. sweat dripping off him, cheeks blushed as hong took a grasp at his hips, creating a rhythm at a brutal pace that even his body was baffled by; feeling his cock pulsing inside the man indicating that he was so much closer than anticipated.

slipping the cock ring off with a subtle smile, and a loud trembling mewl from y/n; hongjoong gave him a few hard thrusts and turned up the vibrator's intesity to its highest level, leaving them both shaking in their final stage of completion, a hiss leaving hong's lips.

as he released his grip from the throat of his lover, hongjoong gave him a pleased giggle and as if on cue-- they came. their lips parted in soft 'o's and pearls of cum slipping out from y/n's slit and onto his stomach as well as his thighs while the rest was swallowed by his greedy hole which spilled some out occasionally. his thighs quivered from the stimulation and hongjoong rested his head on his lover's sweaty shoulder.

“you know i love you, right?”

a simple tired nod was the only response he got, he chuckled warmly in reply.. and no he wasn't a single bit upset by his response-- he always knew y/n never has such prevalent stamina. and with a quick glance at the clock hong sighed, carrying his sleepyhead to the private restroom. originally he would've just snuck him out the back door and bid their goodbyes until next visit (or at least until hongjoong got off work) like they've always done.

and i know that does make him seem like an asshole, but its not for the reasons one might think of. flicking his lover's head gently in an attempt to bring him back down from euphoria hongjoong smiled fondly, pecking his forehead affectionately. he showered him--although he only had 20 minutes left; once he finished, he clothed him in his extra pair of clothes consisting of one shirt much to big for the smaller figure and a pair of sweatpants that just barely hung onto his hips.

he glanced at the clock once again-- 12 minutes left. the uniformed brunette let out a sigh, he truly dreaded waking up his lover but for the sake of both of them he had to. as he muttered sweet nothings to his sleeping beauty the eyes of the smaller man fluttered open, their doe-like quality returning as if a button was pressed. the man sat up, looking at the clock suddenly an indescribable expression of sadness washed upon their faces and that's when they realized it was time to say goodbye.

10 minutes

9 minutes

8 minutes

7 minutes

6 minutes

and then suddenly it was 5..

would they really have to say goodbye now and not see each other for almost another four months? the clock's hands spun seemingly faster leaving the two men empty and numb to their surroundings. why was being together so hard? they asked, their faces communicating for them amongst the cold hard silence of the room, not needing to say a word.

“will i see you again..soon at least?..” the recently awaken man mumbled

no response

the men sighed, knowing it would have to end once again. a knock at the office door was heard causing y/n to jump, startled by the sudden intrusion-- their eyes met as hongjoong called out a firm ‘in a minute’ and they were in silence again. the duo quickly shuffled over to the back door, collecting their belongings and putting them in their corresponding places as they bid their goodbyes, exchanging soft pecks.

“you know.. your family doesn’t have to know..” the uniformed man murmured, spacing out in denial of the repetition of events. the other man simply nodded, opening his mouth to breath out another answer.

“they’ll still want me to be with him though, and besides its not like i don’t live on the other side of the stat--.”

“it doesn’t matter, don’t give up on us please, y/n--”, he sighed, the muffled sound of heels tapping filling the atmosphere, the faint smell of sex hinting at their noses.

“dr. kim, is everything alright  in there?”, the steady voice spoke again.

“yes! just tidying up a bit--”, the brunette replied turning his head towards the door, but when he turned to the direction of the other man, he was already out the door, only leaving his ring on the small mahogany desk next to the door.

the uniformed man examined the ring, inside it read ‘promise’. hongjoong could’ve cried right there, placing the ring in the pocket of his coat with hesitance.

he scanned the room in hopes to still find him, despite knowing he wouldn't. the man had cleaned up earlier not being able to find a single trace of his lover in the empty square room. sighing in defeat, he patted his down his coat hoping to summon some professionalism by straightening the wrinkles near the pockets, opening the door plastering fake ass smile across his face in the process.

“kim fucking hongjoong, what the fuck took you so long, huh?”, she said in almost a whisper-- it was siyeon; hongjoong’s older sister, quite a prick on a rose isn’t she, huh?

“noona, i was cleaning up--.”

“whatever, not what i was here for-- did you do the basic checkup on mister y/n?”, he chuckled; his sister truly was a bit of a pain, he’d never admit it but it was true.

“i thought the nurses did that in room A, you guys did, right?”, the doctor questioned, it was honorable to mention that his lovely sister worked at the hospital as well; head nurse of course.

“no, i thought you were supposed to-- aish, you’re so reckless.”, he shook his head, waiting for her to finish as he continued formulating a response in his clouded head.

“--wait, where even is he? i was hoping we could do it quickly at the end of his visit.”, she tapped her foot, her heel making an obnoxious clicking noise once again. she peaked her head, attempting to see the room behind her brother’s figure in front of the door frame. the long-haired woman clicked her tongue in disappointment.

“i guess we’ll just have to arrange a follow up appointment with mister y/n”

“really? if you want, i’ll take it out of your hands and call him myself--”

“lookie here dr. kim, i don’t know what you’re up to, and frankly i don’t care; as long as its not double the work for me, do as you please”, he smiled bowing slightly as she strutted back to her office, sighing as she slowly disappeared out of his sight.

“guess we’ll be meeting again..”, he grinned as he clutched the ring in his pocket, talking to himself in the midst of his empty room. as if a child was given candy, he skipped over to the phone getting ready to dial his lover’s number as he slipped the ring on his finger.

“i promise.”

end of chapter

all work by hongsside

#hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong smut #ateez smut #doctor au #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x y/n #fanfic #kpop smuts #poly #eventual polyamory #kpop mlm #mlm #mlm smut

[marigold-doms]

Mystic Destiny || Choi San ||

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Pairing: merman!san x human!reader

Word Count: 3.3k (slow burn)

Warning! this contains: Mystical creatures, racism (please know that racism is NOT okay nor will it EVER be), 18+ scenes, mature language, smoking, and death. Slight gore(only mentions of blood) Mentions topics about hate, immigration, and racial struggle in the beginning. Just be aware of that. Skip the beginning, if it makes you that uncomfortable. I also apologize for any inaccurate information on the mystical world of fantasy. I did do research but not to the extent of being an expert so I appreciate it if you can enjoy the story as it’s written. 

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

            Pearl || Ep. 1 ||

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Rewind……

50 years ago (1970) : Choi San, 17 years old. 

Choi San hated living here. Land of the free? Home of the brave? All of that was complete fool’s talk. Who the hell said that the people who live here are brave? Bold was a better word. Bold enough to make every part of his days living here a walk in hell. 

All seventeen years of his life up until his junior year in high school were golden. He did martial arts. Spoke English well. Danced well and even sang in his free time. 

Shit hit the fan when his parents decided to send him off abroad to this stupid country he felt like never welcomed him in the first place. It wasn’t the American dream that they thought would magically happen for him. Sure, his family was loaded. It helped him out since he did live by himself. Maybe in a sense, his parents were tired of seeing San care less and less about the reality of the world that sending him away was a better solution than actually pushing him to dream bigger. San never wanted to be shoved to a foreign country without his family. 

He hated most people here anyways. He hated that they made fun of his hobbies, sense of style, and most of all— his race. 

He never understood the appeal of putting down others for the temporary pleasure of feeding one's self esteem. It wasn’t his fault that his parents no longer wanted to see him live youthfully. San couldn’t argue back with much force to the bullying and racial abuse because he got used to allowing himself to become so numb to everyone around him. In his eyes, it was better to feel nothing than the pain that was presented to him everyday. If anything, he felt like he was the most insensitive and undeserving out of anyone. So it was only natural for him not to feel any reverend justice for standing up to anyone for himself. Maybe he deserved it. 

That being said, his group of friends weren’t exactly the best people either. San entered into this school during his junior year and he socially scrambled to find a place to fit in. Which so happened to be a group of three friends consisting of odd and misplaced guys named Yeosang, Wooyoung, and Mingi. 

They were basically the entire population of the Asian demographic in their high school. San wasn’t sure if that made things worse for him or better. He just couldn’t wait to graduate in the upcoming fall. 

The leaves fell in the next semester and he could sense that there was no way out of this hell hole unless he graduated. His friends started getting girlfriends and the only person that would talk to him after school hours was Wooyoung. 

“Dude, maybe you just need to get a girlfriend.” Puffs of smoke left Wooyoung’s parted lips. “Or someone to fuck.” 

“And what will I do with that?” San cringed his nose from the smell of nicotine and ash. 

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung held the cigarette out to San, waiting for him to take it. When he doesn’t, Wooyoung shrugged, deciding to take another long pull. “There’s a lot of girls that ask about you though. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind letting you hit.” 

“Not interested.” 

“You gay or something?” Wooyoung asked out of curiosity. “I’m sure there’s also takers for that.” 

San huffed out a laugh. “I don’t swing like that.” 

“Hey,” Wooyoung flashed him a lazy smile. “You ain’t that bad. Guys would line up to give you a little blow.” 

“I’m not gay, Woo.” San can’t help but feel some type of way. 

Wooyoung laughed to tease him. “Whatever you say, handsome.” 

It wasn’t that he was gay. Or that he wasn’t interested in talking to girls. He just knew better than to let some poor girl get involved with any form of contact with him. San was destructive but in all matters of himself. There was no way he’d let someone’s emotions get messed up from the way he internally abuses himself.  

He gazed at the cigarette in between Wooyoung’s fingertips. “You think those would kill someone if they smoked non-stop?” 

“I guess it would. Why would you ask that?” 

“Just curious,” San extends his hand. “Pass it.” 

Wooyoung hesitated. San did reject the offer earlier. Why the sudden choice to do it now? 

Once the end of the cigarette meets San’s lips, his inexperience is evident as soon as the first swirl of smoke infiltrates his lungs. Causing his throat to constrict and eyes to water from coughing. The sensation burned throughout his upper body.

The pain felt good.

Wooyoung nervously laughed from the growing smirk on San’s face. Attempting to snatch the small bud from his hand. San pulls it out of his reach and inhales another puff despite the burn coursing through his lungs.

He wanted more. 

****************************

Present: (Y/F/N), 2020.

“I’m headed out, Mace.”

Your roommate, Macy, lifts her head from her laptop. “Wait,”

You pause to look at her. Avoiding eye contact. “Hm?” 

‘Where are you headed?” Macy knows that it’s way too late for you to be going out. Plus, it was only on a rare occasion that you’d leave during the night. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back by morning.” You collect your skates into a duffle bag and grab your keys.

Macy has only a few seconds to either stop you or tell you to wait for her to come with you but the amount of work in her inbox beckons her to stay home and talk to you about it later. “Text me then.”

Without another word of explanation, you wave your hand to her and shut the door behind you. After zipping up your jacket, you leave the silent apartment complex and lock yourself in your car. 

On the drive over to the lake, you realize how lonely you’ve been. Ever since the last conversation with the doctor, you determined that this was the last wreckless thing you’d do. There was no fixing what life had given you. If there was an opportunity to let you reverse time, you’d spend it thanking everyone for being there for you. Even when no one knew of your latest doctor’s appointment. 

“If we’re talking about time, Miss (y/l/n). I give it about 3 months until the cancer metastasizes to your brain.” 

No take backs or “what if’s”. You didn’t want to hate or blame anyone for this. It was purely fate.

This was absolutely terrifying. You were absolutely insane.

Your skate meets the solid ice and for a moment your heart races. 

Will it hold?

Too late now. One foot glides in front of the other and you gently skate your way towards the middle of the lake. The crisp air sucks away your breath as you begin to feel the contraction of your muscles starting to heat from the amount of  effort it took to keep up with yourself. It wasn’t long before the pain started to burn through your nerve endings. You decide that it’s better not to think about how tired your body is. Instead, you allow your thoughts to roam.

At first, it wandered to your memories from skating at the ice rink with your friends. Then to the songs that you remembered playing while hanging out with them. To your favorite favorite music. And where the memories started to get sour; your favorite song. You loved to dance to it. The way your body would just follow and take control of you. A lost cause now that it seems this is the last your body will remember of being active.

You are doing the very thing that your physician told you not to do.

The pain is stronger now. Once this thought enters your mind you’re hit with the truth. You couldn’t ignore the sensation. Your body was giving up on you. It was cold. Your muscles are overworked and your mind is abusing all will to have hope. 

It happens in a second. 

The ice gives from under your feet and breaks from the surface. Sinking to the bottom.

A loud crack and scream combine as your body reacts to the sudden force of gravity. The sound rattling the creature beneath. 

In the middle of the lake. Lower half is completely wet and frozen from the water beneath the surface of the ice. Sharp stabs from the freezing water pricked your skin and you were slipping. With no human within ear shot to hear you, the sounds of your screams echoed back at you with pathetic reverb. 

A desperate reality hits you and you realize that you couldn’t swim. No one would be here to save you from your death.

As your legs burned from the weight of your skates, your body sunk. The metal on the bottoms of your feet slammed against your shins—if it wasn’t terrible enough, your arm was getting torn up by the sharp edges of the broken ice. All the odds are against you and your survival. You faced the fact and no longer struggled against fate.

Dark.

It’s so dark.

The water was burning. Through your airways and through your throat. In a sense… It was warmth.

This feels nice.

As soon as you become limp, the creature swims closer. Curiosity fills him as he wonders why a human would swim while the surface was hard. Usually, during the summer, he’d observe that humans enjoyed activities during the day. Not when the moon was so high in the sky. Not when the temperatures were this low—humans are weak.

The merman hurries to the unmoving body.

Humans can’t live in water.

He didn’t understand where he’d come to know of this but he followed his gut instinct.

At first, he carefully examined her. The way her soft skin looked so thin and fragile to the hairs wisping around her as she sunk deeper into the water. She had weird attachments to her bottom limbs that molded into unnatural shapes.

She’s so quiet. He thought to himself.

The merman did not want to wake her. She looked like she was asleep. 

He realizes that he hasn’t slept for a while. Maybe humans need to sleep often. He wasn’t sure if she would wake up, but the thought occurs in a delay when he finally touches her.

 Her limp body moves from the slight force he used to touch her. Only then did the merman notice the blood seeping from her skin into the water around her. 

Why was she so cold? She wasn’t moving and her body was leaking with red fluid… So fragile.

He doesn’t want to think too much but there was something off about this human. She seemed lost. Much too comfortable with being underwater. 

Didn’t humans need to breathe regular air? 

Oh no… The merman began to panic. What if she’s dead? 

Quickly, he wraps his steady arms around her unmoving body and swims towards the hard surface. 

How did she get through the ice? 

He examines her face again and for some reason he touches her icy cheek. Her skin mashes against his smooth palm and for the first time in a long while, he smiles. 

He wanted to help you. The lonely creature couldn’t remember the last time that he actually interacted with a human. Something carnal was also driving him. Since he was semi-immortal, age was slow to impact him. He concluded that this drive wasn’t a strange appetite for hunger.

Time. Humans felt that. 

How long was the merman dallying before the human lost all hope in being helped? He couldn’t gauge the time. 

Oh no. Time. 

Death. He is reminded that humans do die. 

That’s what the merman was dealing with and the very thought strikes him. He just killed someone. He couldn’t help this human. She was dead. The first few moments with a living person and he lets them die. 

Nothing’s really brought him to this point but he ends up feeling an unfamiliar burning in his eyes.  A pearl falls from his eyes into the water. He catches it between his fingers. (A/n: mermaids cry pearls) The small sphere glows through the rays of the moonlit water. 

Air. Humans need air. 

The ignorant merman didn’t know what to do. More of his pearls fell from his eyes as he searched above him. There.

A few yards away there was a hole in the hard ice. His fin propelled them forward and he held onto the lifeless human. He didn’t know how but he managed to get both of them above the water. 

The unfamiliar air tickles his warm ears since he hadn’t resurfaced in a while. His body was a furnace. Always generating heat. Maybe if he wrapped his arms around her, the human would heat up. 

The human slowly did, but her fingers were turning blue. The creature could tell this human was dead. She looked so alike compared to his upper half but so lifeless. What if he knew this person from when he was a human? What if she was young and had more life in her? What if he could’ve saved her? How could he let an innocent life slip through his fingers after not coming into contact with the world for so long. 

More pearls fall from his eyes and roll over the glossy ice. He was melting the surface from his body heat so he sunk back into the water. Pearls continued to hit the water and the ice but the merman made sure to keep her limp body in sight. 

She was dead. What use was it to watch over her? 

He couldn’t remember the last time another being besides the fish in the lake stayed by him. The small memories he had from 50 years ago flood back to the creature and his thoughts fill him with sorrow. 

A melody bellows from within him and he weeps with song filling the shrill silence around them. 

The God of Light awakes from the merman’s melody. Pleased with the creature’s song. 

“God of the Shadows, a merman is calling out and weeping to us.” 

“Seonghwa, Stop calling me that.” Hongjoong grumbles, cringing at the light seeping into the room. “You awoke me for a mere merman? Let him suffer.” 

“It’s the one from 50 winters ago.” Seonghwa’s thumb strokes along the face of his golden stopwatch. 

The memories flood back into the God of the Shadow’s spirit and it’s enough to coax him to rise from his bed. “Is he with the same people?” 

“Come watch.” 

The God of the Shadows plucks his silver clad fan from his wardrobe. Presuming his position next to his brother as they enter the Terra Conservatory of Humans. 

The creature’s melody fills the conservatory and the two God’s listen in to his plea. 

Blood surrounds the human next to the merman and Seonghwa exchanges a glance at Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong flicks his fan open and shakes his head. “She’s almost at my threshold.” 

“She has too much life left to live. Give her back.” Seonghwa watches intensely, observing the two beings. 

“I can only slow her down. I can’t force her. You know that.” Hongjoong sighs. Fanning himself with indifference. 

“Please cooperate with me, Brother.” Seonghwa gives the God of Shadows a side eye. 

The God of the Shadows huffs stubbornly before shutting his fan. He twirls his wrist before flicking the fan open again. 

Back down on the cold ice of the lake, the merman’s pearls sink down and mix with the blood of the human throughout the water beneath them. 

At this point all that filled him was sorrow and regret. How could he let such a frail human’s life slip through his fingers? 

“I’m- I’m so sorry!” The creature’s warm hands clasp over her skin. 

In the long and dark hallway towards a Victorian styled archway, you hear a melody that slowly starts to increase in volume from behind you. Fear blankets over you and you realize that you’re walking towards the passageway of the afterlife.. A man with a silver shining fan waves his tool in your direction, shadows wash over him like a cloak and immediately you make a decision.

I just want to be alive.

Instead of embracing the shadows, you force your feet to lead you back to the beautiful sound of singing. That voice. That melody. Your spirit was being led back to earth and you could gradually feel the warmth of a rapid heart beat thumping in your chest. 

You cough. Hard. 

The water which filled your lungs spilled from your lips and burned on the way out. 

Pain. Oh, how relieving it was to feel pain again.

Your eyes blank and for a few seconds your body is trying to catch up with life back on earth. Safe to say that you were under shock. You had just witnessed the supernatural. Something that you would have called ridiculous and absurd. How would you explain? 

Your ears are literally ringing. You just died. 

That voice. Whoever was singing… they saved you. 

You search over the ice to seek for anyone nearby. No one. 

Until the water burbles below the ice. There in the hole. You were one hundred percent positive that you had fallen through. 

How did I get here? Who pulled me out of the water? 

You began to wonder if it was that shadow man with the silver fan from the end of the long, dark hallway. But the more you pondered over the thought it just seemed impossible.  

Your cold pinky finger brushes against something smooth and round. The moonlight was reflective enough against the marbled object for you to observe that it’s a pearl. It’s iridescence resembled the blue rays of a clear and misty oceanic wave. 

It’s been a few minutes and the adrenaline bombarding your body loses its peak. 

You remember the lacerations that your skates caused you as you tried to swim from the bottom before you died. Your jeans are torn and you’re covered in the metallic smell and crimson of your own blood. To gauge the severity of your wounds, you gather the courage to push the shredded fabric aside. 

You gasp.

I can’t believe it. 

You bled out. You definitely died. But... no wounds. None. 

“You’re-” A man’s voice bounces off the water and into the shrill air. “You’re alive.” 

Past your blood-stained skates, your eyes meet with the most beautiful shade of dark blue. His hair was so black that it shone like a navy crow against the moonlight. He was in the freezing water. Eyes wide and confound in everything he just witnessed. 

“I-” You were speechless. 

“You were dead…” He swims closer to the edge of the ice. You can’t put your finger on why he was so content in that freezing water. “I gathered you from the water... I- you were dead.” 

“You brought me out?” 

The stranger purses his lips, nodding his head. “I did.” 

“I-” Your heart flutters inside of your chest and the feeling bubbles up through your words. “I was walking through the dark hall and saw this man-singing. Someone was singing. I had to run away. It was so cold-I was scared-” 

“You heard?” The man’s torso elevates only a few more inches but you can visibly see the rippling water slide off his toned body. “You heard my singing?” 

Nothing made sense. Everything that’s happened on this cursed lake shook you to the core. The shadow man. The wounds. The blood. The pearls. Death’s threshold. 

There was only one evident piece of fact. 

“You… You saved me.” 

[ Ep. 1 ] >> [ Ep. 2 ] >> 

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

Tags (No obligation to read but I hope you guys like & support my new series<3):

 @sakura-mars @nctrenjunie @filbert-forever @filbert-forever @wsrod-deszczu @owljungeun @allyreactions @jonghyuns-gurl @inavocados @burakovskybaby @hwilson16 @jimjamjaemin​ @sagexlove​ @neo-wonderland​ @neodreamwaves​ @kpopimaginesmut​ @yeo-dream​ @xiuminswifeforever​

#Choi san #ateez imagines #ateez imagine #ateez scenarios #ateez #admin mika #mika’s works #kpop smut #kpop imagines #san imagines #choi san imagines #ateez smut #choi san smut

[popwasabi]

“The Mandalorian” S2 is a power fantasy with mini Star Wars trailers

The term “Plot armor” is often used by readers and viewers to describe the myriad of ways writers keep their heroes away from any real danger no matter what choices or actions they make in the narrative. It’s typically a derisive phrase for the way a writer’s hero seems to escape death no matter what is thrown at him for the sole purpose of moving the plot forward.

In Disney+’s “The Mandalorian” this term takes a far more literal description in the form of our main anti-hero, played by Pedro Pascal, in his beskar armor which seems to be, by all accounts the most indestructible material in the galaxy far, far away.

(I mean, it still looks really cool too, of course.)

The result of this narrative decision in this series is that action scenes often don’t have real tension to them. In another series you might be able to reasonably believe the hero might be in danger with blaster fire shooting all around them but with beskar it’s almost comically not the case at all. Stormtroopers fire laser blast after laser blast at The Mando and each time they bounce harmlessly off him as if he were fucking Superman. It makes scenes feel devoid of stakes and danger no matter what situation they are in.

The show thus becomes a power fantasy, as action scenes serve as extended highlight reels for the Mando. Where season 1 of the show mitigated the power of the Mando’s plot armor by putting him more often in situations where his beskar alone wasn’t enough to save the day, season 2 goes mostly full power fantasy as The Mando rarely runs into a situation he can’t just quite literally walk through.

(“Aim for his armor, men! That’s his weak point!”)

This isn’t to say the season wasn’t without its high moments or even that it wasn’t enjoyable plenty of times but the series’ devotion to fan servicey action and callbacks to “Hey remember ____” makes it a fairly shallow story. At least for myself.

Season 2 of “The Mandalorian” continues the story of Din and his small Yoda-like companion, The Child (later known officially as Grogu), as he looks to complete a quest to return the burgeoning Force wielder to the Jedi. As he seeks to reunite The Child with the ancient Order, he encounters other Mandalorians who are on a quest to retake Mandalore and right on their tail is the nefarious Grand Moff Gideon who is still bent on capturing Grogu for whatever it is he has planned for the Empire.

Let me start this review by saying power fantasies aren’t inherently bad to watch or read. They can be good, cathartic junk food for the soul and can also be compelling, artistic, or even deeply metaphorical in their own way. A movie series like “John Wick” for instance is a power fantasy that aims to reinvent the wheel in action film-making with Keanu Reeves performing perhaps the best gun kata of all-time onscreen. Another film like Paul Verhoueven’s “Total Recall” can satirize the power fantasy to show how ridiculous it is in concept.

So, making your hero an unstoppable killing machine isn’t necessarily always a bad thing if used properly.

(Seriously, this is one of the smartest action films ever made. Don’t @ me.)

Now that that’s established, however, “The Mandalorian” season 2, despite some strong moments here and there, is a power fantasy that lacks these elements for a more interesting narrative. If you believe killing dozens of stormtroopers onscreen while never suffering so much as a scratch for eight episodes equals compelling storytelling then boy does Disney have a series for you.

Through the first four-ish episodes, the new season is mostly just fine and even quite enjoyable. We have the Mando getting a fun side quest with Timothy Olyphant on Tatooine where they get to wrangle a sand worm in a callback to the Westerns that inspired much of the franchise’s aesthetic. The Mando gets to escort a frog lady to her home planet to give birth to some tadpoles and they run into some actual danger in this episode in the form of kyrnknas/space spiders. And we get the return of Bo Katan from Dave Filoni’s “Clone Wars” and “Rebels” cartoon series, with Katee Sackhoff herself reprising the role in a fun Mandalorian team-up episode.

(I’m just so happy to see my girl, Starbuck, again more than anything honestly ;_;)

But the wheels started officially falling off for me in the next episode.

Episode 5 marked the live-action debut of fan favorite Ahsoka Tano, played by Rosario Dawson, and she meets the Mando by getting the jump on him with her lightsabers. In virtually any other situation we have been told lightsabers can cut through virtually anything. Now, beskar has been shown to be plenty durable throughout the series so far but lightsabers? Surely not.

Well…

It is an overall good episode despite this but it marked the point for me where I badly wanted The Mando to just go the rest of the series without it. Obviously, the writers aren’t going to actually kill our hero, afterall The Mouse needs more money and he can’t have it unless we get 50 more Mandalorian episodes and spin-offs, but at some point I gotta feel like there’s a possibility at least that our hero might actually die or at least is in danger. It is actually super funny to me each time The Mando ducks or seeks cover in a shootout when I know, and the viewer damn well knows, he can literally walk right into the middle of it and shoot all these motherfuckers at his own leisure cause his actual plot armor is the stuff of adamantium and vibranium combined.

Episode 5 is mostly good though, it’s a nice callback to old school samurai flicks and for an old fan like myself it was enough to ignore beskar again saving the Mando’s ass.

(This was cool...This...was...cool.)

If episode 5 marked the point in which the wheels began to come off though, episode 6 is where the show really spun out into the ditch for me. Perhaps, this series worst episode, personally, episode 6 reintroduces fan favorite and series inspiration Boba Fett back officially into the fold and the result was perhaps the most self-indulgent entry of the series.

(I mean, it was directed by Robert Rodriguez so...)

Boba arrives to demand his beskar from The Mando who promptly tells him “no” before they are ambushed by a platoon of stormtroopers. Alongside Ming-Na Wen’s Fennec Shand, the three do battle with the stormtroopers with ridiculous ease. I’m aware that stormtroopers exist to be on the highlight reel of our heroes in this franchise and have a long history of not being able to hit the broad side of a bantha but again, I can only watch these guys die by the dozens onscreen over and over again while our heroes get away without suffering even a bruise before it starts feeling boring and repetitive.

It only gets worse once Boba actually puts on his armor. In a sequence that I would describe as “gratuitously” fan servicey, Boba wastes just about every last stormtrooper in this scene culminating with him destroying their two get-away vehicles in a single shot with a rocket. Considering he was killing them with ease just moments before with nothing more than a battle club and a bathrobe, it seemed almost hilariously needless that he donned his iconic armor.

(It would be tempting to say the stormtroopers fought as ineptly as the Putty Patrol here but even the Power Rangers have struggled a few times against these guys...)

I get that Boba is really important to a lot of fans, based on their perceptions of him in the original trilogy and subsequent books and graphic novels that came out in the following years, but here’s a hot take; this series didn’t need him in it. Maybe they didn’t need to keep him rotting in the Sarlacc Pit but this episode, alongside Ahsoka Tano’s feels more like marketing choices for the story rather than narrative ones. I’ll concede that there is a bit more substance to having Ahsoka there to commune with Grogu but their additions to the plot don’t actually show much of anything about the Mando outside physically helping him in a fight.

The way they tease, in both cases, stories that exist outside the internal narrative between Ahsoka’s search for Admiral Thrawn and Boba taking over Jabba’s palace at the end of the final episode, it feels like Disney threw in mini trailers for fans to nibble on at the expense of telling the Mando’s own story and letting it stand on its own like the first season.

The choice to have these characters shoved into this season again appears to be market driven not narrative. Once more, I get that these characters are important personally to many fans, but the appearance of these characters alone DO NOT equal good storytelling.

(Me when a fan tells me “But Boba was such a badass in *obscurely titled EU book that a handful of general audiences have read*! He deserves this moment!”)

The final episode of the season is truly encapsulating of all these issues “The Mandalorian” has, however. Moff Gideon, played by the always sharp Giancarlo Esposito, has Grogu imprisoned aboard his ship. The Mando and his friends plan a rescue mission to save him and, just like nearly every episode before, it is stupidly easy for our protagonists.

The crew of five, again, walk through every Imperial on the ship. I don’t mean this metaphorically by the way, I mean this literally as Cara, Fennec, Bo Katan and Koshka Reeves (played by WWE’s Sasha Banks) without a single moment of real adversity just blast through every stormtrooper on the ship and never get hit once in the process.

A good action scene needs an element of danger, a sense that our hero might actually not come out of this alive even though we all know they will. An action scene without this has no tension and without tension it becomes booooooooring.

(Even John fucking Wick is capable of bleeding, guys...)

The finale had a chance, however, to add real stakes and danger to the scene in the form of this season’s new enemy; The Dark Troopers. These Imperial battle droids were foreshadowed as these super soldiers at the end of episode 4 and seemed to be billed as a real dangerous match for our heroes to faceup against. When the Mando finally gets himself face to face with one he finds they are not as easy to kill as the nameless stormtroopers from before. To see The Mando briefly face real adversity for a change snapped me out of my cynical mood so sharply for a moment I thought I had turned on another series by accident.

But of course, danger never lasts long in this series as The Mando’s armor again saves him first from getting pummeled to death by the droid’s super fists then he uses his plot spear, cause of course he has one of those too, to finish the job.

Danger over.

Moff Gideon doesn’t fair much better in this episode. This villain who had been built up for two seasons as this calculative monster gets stopped rather easily with Mando and his friends barely breaking a sweat. This character feels wasted because of this, even though I’m sure Giancarlo Esposito will return in the next season. He just feels about as much like a pushover as the nameless stormtroopers in this series.

The episode had one more chance though to show these Dark Troopers meant business toward the end as we found the heroes cornered on the command deck with nowhere to run and a dozen of these droids ready to blast and pound them into the floorboards. But help arrives in the form of a Deus X-Wing Machina.

Without having to face even one Dark Trooper, Luke fucking Skywalker arrives on the ship and kills every droid without breaking a sweat. It plays as inspiring in the moment but again I just found myself bored and irritated. A chance to see the series heroes actually use their wits and show their creativity in a moment of true danger thwarted to please fan boys.

I get that Grogu called out to him in episode 6 but creatively this felt like an extremley lazy way to solve the heroes’ dilemna.

(“Hello my name is Jedi. I enjoy doing...*computes script* Jedi things.”)

This season wasn’t all bad. It certainly had nice production value that made each alien world pop and beautiful to look at. Every actor and actress played their parts expertly well, with what they were given, and made for interesting characters at times. There are also nice homages to both Western and Samurai cinema throughout the season that fans of both will appreciate. And Pedro Pascal is just so good on his own, especially in tender moments with Grogu, that you forget that his character is kind of a Gary Stu.

But the main crux of the issue here that I’m trying to get across is the reason you need to remove the plot armor of your heroes is not just because action scenes need tension and stakes, it’s that when faced with danger these scenes reveal who these characters are. I used to believe that the reason Mandalorians and Jedi had such a fierce rivalry in the lore despite the obvious advantages of wielding the Force was because these famed bounty hunters were just that fucking good at killing. That despite being, on paper, normal people they had great martial prowess, athletic skill, and the tactical wit to outsmart people who can literally sense their feelings. But now with beskar and the way this series is written, it appears the Mandalorians were challenging warriors just because they happened to harness the most OP armor building material in the galaxy.

It makes you wonder how the fuck they were conquered to begin with…

(Maybe they just needed more knee rockets...)

This takes away from the mysticism of the Mandalorians for me. It makes The Mando less interesting to me in the way he fights. Yea he can shoot really good too but really it’s the armor that makes him the fighter that he is and I find that kind of boring. We occasionally get this character to remove the armor during the series, including a whole episode that was easily one of the best of the season, and in every case he’s more interesting once the helmet comes off. I get that fans hold a lot of reverence for that armor, yea it still looks really cool, but making it this impenetrable super material doesn’t add anything to the story.

If anything, it takes away from it.

(Plus how could you not love Pedro Pascal when he’s out of armor? uWu)

I wouldn’t go as far as to say I hate season 2, even though I spent 2000 plus words just now lambasting it but I guess I just want to say I am unimpressed more than anything. I feel like I’ve seen better Star Wars be it in the movies, cartoons, books, video games, etc and I’ve certainly seen better action in the franchise as well.

Considering fan reaction so far appears to be overwhelmingly positive, I am definitely in the minority here and you are welcome to enjoy this series as much as you want in spite of how unimpressed I am with the season. But considering all I have seen of this fandom the last few years, regarding complaints about fan service (“Rogue One”), easily defeated/underdeveloped bad guys (“The Last Jedi”), and Mary Sues (The sequel trilogy in general), I have to ask again what is it actually that fans like or don’t like about new entries in the franchise? It’s not that there isn’t valid criticisms there and “The Mandalorian” is enjoyable in sincere ways too but it has many of the issues I hear commonly said of more divisive entries in the Disneyverse. So why does it get a pass?

I’ve been told it’s not worth my energy to talk too derisively about the fans in one of my earlier write-ups, so I’ll leave it at that but it does make me wonder.

(“Rogue One” admittedly has a simarily self-indulgent action sequence though haha...)

Season 2 of “The Mandalorian” isn’t the worst piece of Star Wars media ever created, far from it, and for most part its solid enjoyable Saturday morning cartoon theater but if the series wants to really take steps to become more compelling in the future it might be good to stop bubble wrapping their heroes in plot armor. Literally.

Until then this is the way…I guess…

Me getting ready for the backlash...

#Star Wars #the mandalorian #Mando #Baby Yoda #grogu #Boba Fett #Mandalorians #bsg #Battlestar Galactica #jedi #Ahsoka tanno #The Last Jedi #ROgue One #jon favreau #dave filoni #Clone Wars #Star Wars rebels #Sabine Wren #Breaking Bad #John Wick #Keanu Reeves #paul verhoeven #Total Recall #power fantasy #disney #Disney Plus #TV #review

[letterstomilen]

i discuss the classification of igneous petrology as you fall asleep during my lecture (PART 1) (ASMR)

Childe/Zhongli, Alternate Universe (read part 2 here) When Childe's younger sister tells him about the volunteer at the library, he does not make the connection between that and his new favorite ASMR YouTuber, Rex Lapis.

Childe has a very effective method of getting through college. His little sister, who’s caught him making coffee at three in the morning on more than one occasion the past week alone, would beg to differ. 

“You’re the best older brother,” she starts off, and he’s sure she’s trying to convince herself more than him at this point, “but you need to fix your sleeping habits.” Then, because she’s his little sister, she’d flash him a smile and pat his shoulder reassuringly.

(The comment is not lost on him though. He understands his sleeping situation will eventually wear him down if it hadn’t already, but he believes if he’ll drink a coffee every morning and a Monster every night, he’ll get through three days. By the third day, he’ll hardly be coherent but that doesn’t matter because he’ll conk out for the next twelve hours and then repeat.)

“Don’t worry, Tonia,” he says, trying to sound as reassuring as possible as he contemplates whether it’s worth it or not to swallow a pill of 5-hour energy with his morning coffee. “Once break ends, I’ll get back to normal.”

“You said that six seasons ago.”

Childe frowns, trying to remember if his sleeping schedule was this dysfunctional last year. “Huh?”

“The Walking Dead seasons,” Tonia clarifies, as if she’s not twelve years old and the show is for grown adults. He thinks. He hasn’t checked Commonsensemedia ever since La Signora labeled him as a “helicopter parent” and his Netflix tab has been playing How to Get Away with Murder as background noise for the past few weeks.

Isn’t it a show about zombies though? Tonia’s sheepish smile tells it all, because it’s the same exact guilty look he had when he got caught red-handed as a kid.

(Once he remembers later, Childe promises himself, he’ll check out The Walking Dead.)

“Oh. Well. I have a lot of shows to catch up on, you know. Not to mention a ton of my professors gave me reading for over the break.”

A half lie. They did give him a lot of reading because each professor assumed that their classes were his only one, and with seven days left, he still has a textbook worth of reading to go through. But there are no shows that Childe would sacrifice his precious sleep for. As a matter of fact, he would love to sleep. He’s spent the majority of his classes back in high school sleeping and faking attention, saving his grade at the last minute — it was quite the extreme sport really, if he says so himself.

Whenever he tries to sleep recently, his thoughts run at several hundred miles per hour, and he spends several hours staring at the ceiling before succumbing to the computer at his desk and watching trashy movies. At this point, he must have gone through the entire romance comedy list on Netflix. (Not a proud point in his life but if anybody ever wanted him to give a list of best to worst romance comedy movies, he now has one.)

Tonia, on the other hand, isn’t incredibly convinced.

Admittedly, the excuse was lame. Also, he can’t easily lie to his little sister, who’s far shrewder than he takes her for at times.

“You never start your reading in advance. You like to speed read it right before your class or watch a five-minute video on the chapters while your teachers take attendance. But that’s… uh, ‘a bad work ethic.’” Tonia looks immensely proud of herself as she says this, finishing it off with, “Zhongli told me that.”

“Zhongli?” he repeats, trying to remember if that’s one of her classmates or some stranger that’s hoping to kidnap his sister.

“The guy that volunteers at the library sometimes. He recommended me a loot of good books to read, but he talks like an old man.”

“How old?” Childe can tell she’s enjoying this — talking about her new friend at the library that he’ll probably have to run a background check on.

“Like he’s in his sixties or something. But he looks… actually, he looks your age! And he’s a student too. I told him all about you.”

Well, that doesn’t sound very reassuring coming from the mouth of a twelve-year-old. He’s not sure if that translates to his social security number, his current dilemma, or just that he’s her older brother.

“Like all of the stories you told me when I was a kid. And then when Lumine came to pick me up, she stayed to show him pictures of you too.”

“Of course she did,” he mumbles, ruffling her hair. One of these days he’s going to move without telling his classmates and the twins won’t enter his apartment unannounced. (But Tonia adores their company and the stories they tell her far too much for him to actually do it. But that doesn’t mean he’s above making threats when they tell his little sister about the bet he made about white-out and how it could dye hair. The jury is still out on this one.) “She’s just mad because I get away with it and she doesn’t. But don’t do it yourself. It’s a bad habit,” he adds, remembering that he should at least try to be a good influence on his younger sister when he can.

“Okaaay,” she says unconvincingly, before shaking her hair and running off to her room with lunch he prepared for her.

Watching her close the door and no doubt continue her binge of The Walking Dead, he takes out his phone and texts Lumine.

 Childe

12:35

ur a horrible influence on tonia

 Childe

12:35

and whos this ZHONGLI

 Childe

12:35

also is twd appropriate for 12 y/os

 Twin 1

12:37

a normal person would say hi

 Twin 1

12:37

also 1. me n aether watched it when we were 12 so probably and 2. some guy at the library that also goes to our school

 Well. At least he’s somebody they know. But The Walking Dead?

 Childe

12:38

thats not very convincing

 Childe

12:38

also dont ppl DIE? get BITTEN???? what if she gets nightmares

 Twin 1

12:39

isnt she 12 r u telling me u weren’t watching R rated movies at 12

 Childe

12:42

thats very different from a 10 season long show that is hailed as “one of the greatest horror shows in history” and “paved the way for post-apocalyptic horror”

 Twin 1

12:42

well if she has trouble sleeping she could always watch asmr. that helps me during midterms idk

 Childe

12:42

whats asmr

 Childe

12:43

asking for my sister btw

 Twin 1

12:44

A feeling of well-being combined with a tingling sensation in the scalp and down the back of the neck, as experienced by some people in response to a specific gentle stimulus, often a particular sound.

 Childe

12:45

wtf?

 Twin 1

12:45

people on the internet make random sounds or just talk into a mic n its supposed to be very relaxing. how have u never found out abt this?????

 Childe

12:45

idk the only thing on my youtube recommended r greatest stunts and chapter review videos

 Twin 1

12:47

… makes sense

 Twin 1

12:47

check out rex lapis’ channel he looks like ur type

 Childe

12:48

i thought we were talking about my sister????

 Twin 1

12:50

[message screenshots.jpg]

 Twin 1

12:50

ya she told me everything

 Twin 1

12:50

have fun i need to convince aether to not commit arson bc of his TA

 Childe

12:51

hope he does it

He opens his Youtube app, typing in Rex Lapis and expecting Lumine’s suggestion to be a joke. Despite them being friends for nearly two years now, she’s never made any indication of knowing his type. And he’s sure he’s never been that vocal about it either, only shooting appreciative looks at history majors and paying more attention than necessary to the TA for ‘Tradition of Justice and Law.’ (It’s unfortunate that those short-term crushes never led to anything, but maybe that’s for the better seeing that Childe has never understood the appeal of relationships.)

It is an ASMR channel, judging by the ASMR playlist he finds as he scrolls through the account. The icon shows no face — only a microphone — which leaves him skeptical. Most of the video titles belong in a petrology lecture as well, which makes him even more convinced that it’s a joke. He finds a few readings of ancient literature and decides to pick ‘I discuss the classification of igneous petrology as you fall asleep during my lecture (PART 1) (ASMR)’ because that’s exactly what he needs. (Not the very moment — but ten hours later when he’s in the bed memorizing the pattern of his ceiling wondering why he stole from his fifth grade teacher’s candy jar during lunch.)

When Childe opens the video, he damn near gasps.

The man in the video is exactly his type. His eyes are a soft amber color, framed with long lashes, and it’s almost enough for him to lose his dignity and message Lumine a long thank you text about how she is always right and he’ll pay for her coffee for the following week.  He smiles at the screen, albeit a little sheepishly, dark hair framing his face with a long ponytail that Childe can’t see the end of. On his right ear, there are a pair of earrings with a single feather that brush against his neck when he moves his head.

Even before he speaks, Childe is mesmerized, sure he’ll already memorize his features from the curve of his nose to the way he tilts his head, displaying the expanse of his neck.

Really — he reminds him of actors in historical dramas, the way he sits regally, and how he speaks. His voice is low and slow as he adopts a careful manner of speaking, leaning into the mic.

“I’m Rex Lapis, and I’ll be discussing igneous petrology today, which is part one in a three-part petrology series. I apologize in advance, seeing that my knowledge is limited compared to many petrologists out there but my friend Venti said that many of my viewers are here for my voice, so I’m very excited to start today’s video.”

Holy shit.

For the following week, Childe learns less about petrology, the philosophy of economics, and historical revisionism concerning matters of war and more about Rex Lapis, who is not in love with his voice but often finds himself in the middle of long tangents without explanations. His favorite book series is the Legend of the Lone Sword, which he says he’ll look forward to reading out loud for the channel. (Childe replays that part of the video again and again, captivated by his excitement as he mindlessly taps the mic while he speaks, his tangent cutting off mid-word — as it usually does, much to his dismay.)

His guilty obsession is not lost on Tonia, who realizes that instead of drinking Monster every night he’s been engrossed in his phone completely, often not noticing her or when the water starts bubbling. But because his sleeping schedule has been alleviated, she says nothing until Lumine comes over as she always does, not forgetting their weekly schedule of watching trashy movies while leeching off of Childe’s food.

Because he doesn’t trust the twins with the kitchen — even if they can cook — she instead spends her time sitting next to Tonia and spreading more of her anti-Childe propaganda while they wait. This usually involves Tonia occasionally calling out Childe’s name and asking, “Is that true?” or “Did you really do that?”

This time is different though.

Worried that Lumine finally decided to show Tonia a video of last semester’s presentation, he leans over, looking at the computer screen.

And he’s wrong. Unfortunately. Maybe it should’ve been his presentation because even if he botched it and accidentally projected his work process — screaming notes and all — to the class instead of his actual presentation, it would’ve been better than the two of them watching one of Rex Lapis’ videos together.

The ‘I read Erosion: Essays of Undoing to you as it rains outside’ video, to be specific, which is where Rex Lapis is embarrassed by Venti mid video when asked if this was his idea of a date with a lover. (And then it ends with Rex Lapis asking for video suggestions from the commentors, his face still flushed from the previous comments.)

Oh God — oh fuck.

“So he is your type,” Lumine says, her expression a bit too smug for his liking. Tonia looks half awake, scrolling through articles as the video plays, more interested in ‘Top 10 Glenn Rhee Moments’ than Childe’s crush. Her expression is a bit guilty as she does so — she’s biting her lip and avoiding his gaze, but he assumes that it’s just because they went through his YouTube history.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement,” he retorts, but the YouTube history she pulls up once Tonia hands the computer over to her says it all. (It’s quite mortifying, really — even Tonia is giving him a look, but it’s not as bad as Lumine’s shit eating grin.)

“Well… he does have a nice voice,” Childe finally says, thinking that perfectly encompasses his most recent obsession. Because he does have a nice voice — it’s soothing and speaks to him without really speaking to him directly. (The good looks are a bonus, he assures himself. A fantastic bonus, but a bonus nonetheless.)

“He does,” Tonia confirms, smiling toothily up at him, and he resists the urge to ruffle her hair with Lumine staring at him so skeptically. “But I don’t understand much of what he’s saying. He — heh — talks like an old man.”

“Don’t worry, Tonia, your brother likes him because he’s attractive,” Lumine informs her, now fast forwarding on one of Rex Lapis’ videos. “Did you know that he lives nearby?”

“Huh?”

The knife he’s holding clatters to the floor, and the two look down and back up at him with— hold on, why does it feel like they’re in on a secret he doesn’t know about?

“Yeah, he’s working on his grad thesis I think… Aether told me it was about something on history,” she muses. “That’s why I recommended his channel to you. He’s a bit of a celebrity in his department.” Childe’s sure his jaw dropped now, trying to maintain his facial expression as he takes out a new knife to chop up the onions.

“Really,” he tries to say as calmly as possible, wondering how he should accompany Aether to his lectures without trying to seem as obvious as possible. His voice is a bit shaky he realizes but he can’t quite make the connection between Rex Lapis and actual graduate student that goes to his university.

“Yeah, actually…” Lumine is definitely pretending to think now, enjoying this far too much. “He—”

“It’s Zhongli!” his little sister yells excitedly, practically jumping up and down at this point as if she won the lottery. “Zhongli runs an ASMR channel and he talks just like that in real life! Right, Lumine?”

“Yeah.”

Childe sighs, holding a hand up to his face. The realization that he’s been obsessed with the same guy that hears about every stupid thing he did secondhand is way too much — and the fact that he’s been listening to his voice every night before he went to bed the past week is way too much. He’s sure his face is redder than before judging by the amused expressions on Lumine’s and Tonia’s faces — really, they’re mirror images of each other right now.

Not for the first time, Childe swears to himself that he’ll never let her into his apartment without signing a contract ever again.

#Genshin Impact #Childe/Zhongli #Childe & Tonia #Childe & Lumine #asmr fic p1 #fuck ao3 (holds head in hands) #asmr fic

[papermoonloveslucy]

TIME: A CLOWN WITH GLAMOUR

May 26, 1952

TIME: The Weekly News Magazine ~ Lucille Ball: Prescription for TV; a clown with glamour.  May 26, 1952.  

On Monday evenings, more than 30 million Americans do the same thing at the same time: they tune in ‘I Love Lucy’ (9 p.m. E.D.T., CBS-TV), to get a look at a round-eyed, pink-haired comedienne named Lucille Ball.

An ex-model and longtime movie star (54 films in the past 20 years), Lucille Ball is currently the biggest success in television. In six months her low-comedy antics, ranging from mild mugging to baggy-pants clowning, have dethroned such veteran TV headliners as Milton Berle and Arthur Godfrey. One of the first to see the handwriting on the TV screen was funnyman Red Skelton, himself risen to TV's top ten. Last February, when he got the award from the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences as the top comic of the year, Skelton walked to the microphone and said flatly: "I don't deserve this. It should go to Lucille Ball."

By this week, the four national TV rating services (Nielsen, Trendex, American Research Bureau and Videodex) were in unaccustomed agreement: each of them rated ‘I Love Lucy’ as the nation's No. 1 TV show.

Lumps & Pratfalls. The television industry is not quite sure how it happened. When Lucy went on the air last October, it seemed to be just another series devoted to family comedy, not much better or much worse than ‘Burns and Allen’, ‘The Goldbergs’, ‘The Aldrich Family’ or ‘Mama’. Like its competitors, Lucy holds a somewhat grotesque mirror up to middle-class life, and finds its humor in exaggerating the commonplace incidents of marriage, business and the home. Lucille's Cuba-born husband, Desi Arnaz, is cast as the vain, easily flattered leader of an obscure rumba band. Lucille plays his ambitious wife, bubbling with elaborate and mostly ineffectual schemes to advance his career.

But what televiewers see on their screens is the sort of cheerful rowdiness that has been rare in the U.S. since the days of the silent movies' Keystone Comedies. Lucille submits enthusiastically to being hit with pies; she falls over furniture, gets locked in home freezers, is chased by knife-wielding fanatics. Tricked out as a ballerina or a Hindu maharanee or a toothless hillbilly, she takes her assorted lumps and pratfalls with unflagging zest and good humor. Her mobile, rubbery face reflects a limitless variety of emotions, from maniacal pleasure to sepulchral gloom. Even on a flickering, pallid TV screen, her wide-set saucer eyes beam with the massed candlepower of a lighthouse on a dark night.

What is her special talent? TV men credit Lucille with an unfailing instinct for timing. Producer-Writer Jess Oppenheimer says: "For every word you write in this business, you figure you're lucky to get back 70-80% from a performer. With Lucille, you get back 140%." Broadway's Oscar (’South Pacific’) Hammerstein II, hailing Lucille's control, calls her a "broad comedienne, but one who never goes over the line." To her manager, Don Sharpe, Lucille is "close to the Chaplin school of comedy—she's got warmth and sympathy, and people believe in her, even while they're laughing at her."

Western Mirage. Lucille explains that the TV show is important because "I'm a real ham and so is Desi. We like to have an audience. We like being up on our toes." But the show also allows her some time with her ten-month-old daughter, Lucie Desirée, and for the first time in eleven years of trouping, gives her a home life with husband Desi. Says she: "I look like everybody's idea of an actress, but I feel like a housewife. I think that's what my trouble was in movies."

Actress Ball was a long time arriving at the calm waters of motherhood and housewifery. The daughter of Henry and Desirée Hunt Ball, she was born in Jamestown, N.Y. (near Buffalo) at what she calls "an early age." Pressed, she will concede that it was quite a while ago: she admits to being 40. Her father was an electrician whose job of stringing telephone wires carried him around the country. When Lucille was four, he died of typhoid in Wyandotte, Mich.

Lucille spent her childhood in Jamestown (1920 pop. 38,917), but managed to see very little of it. Mostly, she inhabited a dream world peopled by glamorous alter egos. Sometimes she imagined herself to be a young lady of great poise named Sassafrassa, who combined the best features of Pearl White, Mabel Normand and Pola Negri. Another make-believe identity was Madeline, a beauteous cowgirl who emerged from the pages of Zane Grey's melodramatic novel, ‘The Light of Western Stars’. To get authentic background for Madeline, young Lucille corresponded with the chambers of commerce of Butte and Anaconda, Mont. She read and reread their publicity handouts until she felt she knew more about Montana than the people who lived there. It was the powerful spirit of Madeline that caused her for many years to claim Butte, Mont., as her birthplace. Only in the most recent edition of Who's Who did she finally, grudgingly admit to being born in Jamestown, N.Y.

Horrses to Warter. While she lived there, Lucille did her best to rid Jamestown of dullness. Sometimes she gilded reality by imagining that the family chicken coop was her palace ("The chickens would become my armies"). She remembers that she was always unmanageable in the spring. "I'd leave the classroom for a drink of water and never come back. I'd start walking toward what I thought was New York City and keep going until someone brought me home."

By the time she left high school at 14, she had staged virtually a one-man performance of ‘Charley's Aunt’ ("I played the lead, directed it, cast it, sold the tickets, printed the posters, and hauled furniture to the school for scenery and props"). In a Masonic musical revue, she put so much passion into an Apache dance that she threw one arm out of its socket. Jamestown citizens still remember her explosive personality with wonder: it took quite a while for the dust to settle in Jamestown when Lucille finally left for Manhattan at the age of 15.

Probably because of the dreamy mental state induced by Sassafrassa and Madeline, Lucille is not too clear about dates, events and people. In New York,

she headed straight for John Murray Anderson's dramatic school. At the sound of her voice ("I used to say 'horrses' and 'warter' "), her teacher clapped hands to his forehead. Anderson tactfully told Lucille's mother that her daughter should try another line of work. Lucille made a stab at being a secretary and a drugstore soda jerk, but found both occupations dull. She answered chorus calls for Broadway musicals with a marked lack of success. When she even lost a job in the chorus of the third road company of ‘Rio Rita’, a Ziegfeld aide told her: "It's no use, Montana. You're not meant for show business. Go home."

Periodically, Lucille did go home to Jamestown. But she returned again and again to the assault on New York. She managed to get into the chorus of ‘Stepping Stones’, and held on until the choreographer announced that she wanted only girls who could do toe work ("I couldn't even do heel work"). Lucille turned to modeling, progressed from the wholesale garment houses through department stores to the comparative eminence of Hattie Carnegie. She still has a warm feeling for people in the garment trade, because "they're the nearest thing to show business in the outside world. They're temperamental and jealous. I like them." She had a great many admirers. One of them, Britain's actor Hugh Sinclair, says: "She disarmed you. You saw this wonderful, glamorous creature, and in five minutes she had you roaring with laughter. She was gay, warmhearted and absolutely genuine."

As a model, Lucille called herself Diane Belmont, choosing her name in honor of Belmont Park Race Track, where fashion shows are sometimes staged. But it was another few years before Lucille finally got her break. She was walking up Broadway past the Palace Theater when she met agent Sylvia Hahlo coming down from the Goldwyn office. Sylvia grabbed her and cried breathlessly: "How would you like to go to California? They're sending a bunch of poster girls there for six weeks for a picture. One of the girls' mothers has refused to let her go."

$50 to $ 1,500. The movie was ‘Roman Scandals’, starring Eddie Cantor, and it was six months instead of six weeks in the making. Lucille was grimly determined to keep her foot in the Hollywood door. She got a succession of bit parts in such movies as ‘Moulin Rouge’ and ‘The Affairs of Cellini’, worked for three months with the roughhouse comics known as The Three Stooges ("It was one continuous bath of Vichy water and lemon meringue pie").

When RKO picked up her contract, she gradually emerged as a queen of B pictures, then began making program movies with comics Jack Oakie, Joe Penner and the Marx Brothers (’Room Service’). Her salary rose from $50 a week to $1,500 and her hair, already turned blonde from its original brown, now became a brilliant but indescribable shade that has been variously called ‘shocking pink' and 'strawberry orange.' While she was in ‘Dance, Girl, Dance’, and being hailed by Director Erich Pommer as a new 'find' (by then,

she had been playing in movies for six years), she met a brash, boyish young Cuban named Desi Arnaz.

Gold Initials. Desi had come to Hollywood to make the movie version of the Broadway hit, Too Many Girls. Taking one look at luscious (5 ft. 7 in., 130 Ibs.) Lucille, who was wearing a sweater and skirt, he cried: "Thass a honk o' woman!" and asked: "How would you like to learn the rumba, baby?" He took her for a ride in his blue convertible, with the gold initials on the door, and she shudderingly recalls that the only time the speedometer dipped below 100 m.p.h. was when he rounded a curve. On the way home, Desi hit a bump and, as Lucille tells it, a fender flew off. He simply flicked the ash from his Cuban cigarillo and sped on.

Lucille was as dazzled by his full name (Desiderio Alberto Arnaz y De Acha III) as by his history. The only child of a prosperous Cuban politician who had been mayor of Santiago and a member of the Cuban Senate, Desi had fled to Miami with his mother during the revolution of 1933. His father, a supporter of President Machado, was put in jail, and the Arnaz possessions disappeared in the revolution.

After six months, Desi's father was released from jail and rejoined his family in Miami, where he went into the export-import business. Desi, who was 16, enrolled in St. Patrick's High School (his closest friend was Al Capone's son Albert), and got a part-time job cleaning canary cages for a firm which sold birds to local drugstores. He soon found steadier work as a guitarist in a four-piece band incongruously called the Siboney Sextette. The critics agreed on Desi's meager musical gifts. "He was always off-beat," says theater owner Carlos Montalban. "But he's an awfully nice guy—a clean-cut Latin."

Conga Line. Whatever Desi had, it was something the public liked. He began beating a conga drum in Miami and soon nightclub audiences, from Florida to New York, were forming conga lines behind him. His good looks and unquenchable good humor interested producer George Abbott, who was searching for a Latin type to play a leading role in ‘Too Many Girls’. "Can you act?" asked Abbott. "Act?" answered Desi, expansively. "All my life, I act."

The courtship of Desi and Lucille was predictably stormy. Says a friend: "He's very jealous. She's very jealous—they're both very jealous." They were married in 1940, while Desi was leading his orchestra at the Roxy in New York and Lucille was between pictures in Hollywood. She flew in from the coast; they got up at 5 a.m. and drove to Connecticut, where they were married by a justice of the peace. Since they had no apartment, Desi compromised by carrying his bride across the threshold of his dressing room at the Roxy. Hollywood offered odds that the marriage would not last six weeks.

The marriage lasted better than six weeks, but after four years trouble blew. Desi kept moving about the country with his band, and Lucille, when not making pictures, mostly sat home alone. Their marriage was drifting on the rocks, and only World War II averted immediate shipwreck. Desi refused a commission in the Cuban army and was drafted into the U.S. infantry. He was moved on to Special Services, and spent much of the war shepherding USO troupes from one base to another.

In 1944, Lucille filed suit for divorce. She won an interlocutory decree but never got around to filing for her final papers. The reason: she and Desi were in the midst of a new reconciliation. But all the old difficulties remained. Lucille would sit night after night at the clubs where Desi's band was playing, but that resulted in rings under her eyes rather than a new intimacy. She tried cutting down on her movie work by starring in a CBS radio show called ‘My Favorite Husband’, and Desi also took a flyer at radio. They worked out a vaudeville act and toured U.S. theaters with their new routines.

Lucille credits Desi with being the one who was willing to take a chance on TV. "He's a Cuban," she says, "and all Cubans gamble. They'll bet you which way the tide is going and give you first pick." But it was a real gamble. Movie exhibitors do not look kindly upon movie stars who desert to the enemy. If the show flopped, Lucille would have no place to crawl back to. They told CBS that they would give television a try only if both of them could be on the same show. At first, they wanted to play themselves. They compromised by turning Desi into Ricky Ricardo, a struggling young bandleader, and letting Lucille fulfill her lifelong ambition of playing a housewife.

The decision to film the show also made CBS bigwigs uneasy. It would cost four times as much as a live show, and the only interested sponsor, Philip Morris, wasn't prepared to go that high. Again there was a compromise. Desi and Lucille agreed to take a smaller salary in return for producing the show and keeping title to the films.

Real Plumbing. Long years in the practical business of orchestra leading had given Desi considerable organizing ability and business sense. He set up Desilu Productions (Desi president, Lucille vice president), and leased a sound stage from an independent Los Angeles studio. Because Lucille was ‘dead' without an audience, a side wall of the studio was knocked out to make a street entrance, and seats installed for an audience of 300. When a show is ready for the cameras, the audience laughter is picked up on overhead microphones and used in the final print.

Though ‘I Love Lucy’ is filmed, it is more like a play than a movie. All of the lines and action are memorized and, whenever possible, the show is played straight through from beginning to end, and not shot in a number of unrelated scenes. The action takes place on four sets; two of them represent the Ricardos' Manhattan apartment, a third shows the nightclub where Ricky's band plays and the fourth is used for any other scenes called for by the script. Says Desi proudly: "We have real furniture, real plumbing, and a real kitchen where we serve real food. Even the plants are really growing; they're not phony."

Desilu Productions hired a pair of veteran troupers, William Frawley and Vivian Vance, to play the family next door and serve as foils and friends for Desi and Lucille. Academy Award-winning Karl (’The Good Earth’) Freund supervises the three cameras, and Director Marc Daniels (soon to be replaced by Bill Asher) gives Lucy its rattling pace. The writers—Jess Oppenheimer, Bill Carroll and Madalyn Pugh—turn out scripts that do not impose too much on the audience's credulity and are reasonably free of clichés. The writers are held in an esteem not common in TV. Lucille bombards Jess Oppenheimer with photographs flatteringly inscribed to "the Boss Man," and Desi has presented him with a statuette of a baseball player and a punning tribute, "To the man behind the ball."

"Wanta Play Cards?" Desi and Lucille live an unpretentious life on a five-acre ranch in the San Fernando Valley. The only Hollywood note is a kidney-shaped swimming pool, and the most recent addition to the house (a wing devoted to daughter Lucie and her nurse) cost $22,000—more than the house and land cost originally. Neither Desi nor Lucille has ever been socially ambitious, and their friends are the same ones they have known for years. Both Desi's mother (now divorced from Arnaz Sr., who still lives in Miami) and Lucille's Mom live nearby.

At home, Lucille, who collects stray cats and dogs, is an amateur painter ("I use oils because it's easier to correct mistakes than with water colors"), and generally considers herself a lazy, lounging homebody. She is fascinated by Desi's boundless energy.' He spends weekends fishing on his 34-foot cabin cruiser, Desilu; plays violent tennis; likes to cook elaborate dishes. Says Lucille: "Everything is fine with him all the time. Wanta play cards? Fine. Play games? Fine. go for a swim? Great." There's only one problem: "Desi is a great thermostat sneaker-upper and I'm a thermostat sneaker-downer. Cold is the one thing that isn't great with him."

Sex & Chic. Though life has grown noticeably more placid for Desi and Lucille, it promises more money than they ever made before. Desilu Productions has already branched out beyond ‘I Love Lucy’. It is filming TV commercials for Red Skelton, and is at work on a new TV series, ‘Our Miss Brooks’, starring Eve Arden. Three of the best 30-minute Lucy shows are being put together in a package and will be experimentally released to movie theaters in the U.S. and Latin America. This year, ‘I Love Lucy’ has grossed about $1,000,000, and sponsor Philip Morris has signed a contract for 39 more shows beginning this fall. All of the old Lucy films can be sold again as new TV stations go on the air (eventually there will be 2,053 TV transmitters in the U.S., compared to today's 108).

In reaching the TV top, Lucille's telegenic good looks may be almost as important as her talent for comedy. She is sultry-voiced, sexy, and wears chic clothes with all the aplomb of a trained model and showgirl. Letters from her feminine fans show as much interest in Lucille's fashions as in her slapstick. Most successful comediennes (e.g., Imogene Coca, Fanny Brice, Beatrice Lillie) have made comic capital out of their physical appearance. Lucille belongs to a rare comic aristocracy: the clown with glamour.

#Time Magazine #Lucille Ball #Time #Lucy #1952 #Desilu #Desi Arnaz #I Love Lucy #TV