#so this is what they've been seen shooting there lol

[yeonjune]

TOMORROW X TOGETHER ✙ 誓い (CHIKAI) - Concept Photo 'to B'

#tomorrow x together #ot5 #chikai #edits #creations #wabisarah #tusercelia #skyehi #useryeonbins #userzynab #hibiebear #ultkpopnetwork #kpopccc #so this is what they've been seen shooting there lol #its been long ago gdfg #anyways i really love these

[heavyhitterheaux]

Soft Launch

Requested by the cutie @jackslilsecrett 😘

AN: 🥰🥰

Synopsis: You're in the music industry and have been secretly dating Jack for close to a year. Now he wants to let the world know about you and how amazing his girlfriend is

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Jack Harlow Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“Jack, will you stop it?!” You annoyingly asked your boyfriend of ten months who was currently drumming on your ass and making beats as you were trying to look over a script for a new movie that you would be starring in. Shooting wouldn’t begin for a while, but your manager thought that the role would be perfect for you. 

“I’m bored. Are you almost done?!”

“Baby, I literally just started reading this ten minutes ago. I am nowhere near done.”

“Well, how much longer?” Jack whined while continuing to make beats, but soon stopped and just laid his head on you. 

“I’m not sure, I don’t want to give you a specific time and then if I’m not done, you’ll blow a fuse.”

“I haven’t seen you in almost a damn month so yeah I’m about to blow a fuse. And I thought we both agreed not to do anything work related today?”

“I know but…”

All you did was look at him since he was now pouting and put the script face down on the dresser to give him your undivided attention.

“You are such a big baby.” You breathed out as you flipped over and opened your arms wide for him to come closer to you.

“Only yours though, so don’t get it twisted.” He answered as he laid his head on your chest and you began to play in his curls.

“Oh, I wanted to tell you something.”

“Of course, I’m all ears.” You replied while grabbing the remote to the television and turning it on Hulu to catch the latest episode of the Goosebumps reboot. You had been fascinated with the stories ever since you were a child and was excited to see them come to life on the screen.

“I’m having my Halloween party this year on the Saturday before it. You aren’t doing anything that weekend, right?”

“No, I should be free.” You answered while looking down at Jack who looked as if he wanted to say something else.

“Babe? Is there something else?”

“Um, what if we went together? To the party I mean?”

“Like…. As a couple?”

“Well, yeah. We are actually a couple so why not? I mean no one really knows about us besides like two people. But if you’re not ready, then that’s okay. It was just a thought I had. I want to be able to show my girl off to the world.”

You were quiet for a few minutes, going over different scenarios in your head when Jack looked at you curiously knowing that you were deep in thought.

“Baby?”

“I’m just thinking, that’s all. It’s just… if we do this we can’t take it back.”

“True.”

“And I liked having you all to myself.”

“And you’ll still have me to yourself. I’m not going anywhere, I’m yours and you’re mine.” He answered as he reached up to kiss you.

“Let’s do it then.”

Liked by y/nthesongstress, lilnasx, druski2funny, mariahthescientist, theshaderoom, and 2,171,937 others

jackharlow: Harloween '23

lilnasx: SOFT LAUNCH ANYONE?! ABOUT DAMN TIME! y/nthesongstressupdates: oh. this is interesting..... druski2funny: sooooo..... when she's not singing, jack is clapping her cheeks. confirmed. mariahthescientist: DRUSKI, PLEASE urbanwyatt: 👀👀👀👀 jackharlowsource: THESE HALLOWEEN COSTUMES ATE! sza: OKAY WOLVERINE AND STORM! COME THRUUUUUUU druski2funny: now jack and y/n see us up here in this comment section and just want to ignore us. ARE YALL TOGETHER OR NOT? urbanwyatt spill it since you know everything mariahthescientist: and the winner for best halloween costume is!!!! urbanwyatt: druski2funny what makes you think I know?!?! druski2funny: urbanwyatt don't ask dumb questions, give us the details urbanwyatt: ask them yourself druski2funny!

jackharlowdaily: so no one saw this coming from a mile away? they've been dropping hints for a while lol lilnasx: I'll stay quiet for now, but give me my credit where credit is due! jackharlowsource: Nas knows something and he needs to spill it and spill it NOW y/nthesongstress: jackharlow damn, we kinda ate this pic huh? jackharlow: y/nthesongstress you always make me look good 😏 y/nthesongstressupdates: well how long has she been making you look good for jackman? don't leave us hanging!

y/nthesongstress added to their story

Liked by jackharlow, lilnasx, reginaecarter, snohaalegra, hollywoodunlocked, urbanwyatt, druski2funny, and 2,183,394 others

y/nthesongstress: you can't get this thickness outta your mind 😜

jackharlow: definitely can't and I'm going to need my own private show 😍 lilnasx: yall nasty smh victoriamonet: jack has always been a groupie for y/n lol y/nthesongstressupdates: okay so we need details! how did yall meet? how long have yall been together? is it really as big as they say it is? jackharlowsource: y/nthesongstressupdates asking the real questions over here lol y/nthesongstress: lilnasx shouldn't have introduced us to each other then lol dojacat: damn mamas 😍😍😍😍 lilnasx: now I'm just the third wheel in that relationship. jackharlow I thought that it was me and you until the end of time? jackharlow: lilnasx and then y/n came along lol and you got pushed to the side urbanwyatt: lilnasx don't feel bad, he's forgotten about me too jackharlow: urbanwyatt LIES we just went to dinner LAST NIGHT urbanwyatt: jackharlow and you facetimed y/n for more than half of it y/nthesongstress: urbanwyatt omg Urby, I'll make it up to you, promise! I just wanted company on my ride home from the studio urbanwyatt: y/nthesongstress just buy me weed and we can call it even

Liked by jackharlow, yungmiami, lilnasx, urbanwyatt, justjared, hollywoodunlocked, mariahthescientist, and 721,273 others

y/nthesongstressupdates: I guess they've been dropping hints for a minute 😭

jackharlowsource: I just think it's so cute how lilnasx introduced them. him and y/n have been friends forever jackharlowdaily: come to think of it, any public event or award show they would always be sitting near each other lol lilnasx: and also making googly eyes at each other and making me sick smh y/nthesongstress: lilnasx you love it so shut up. I'll make sure you don't catch the bouquet with that attitude. mariahthescientist: I'm making sure that I'm going to be the one to catch it jackharlow: he's just jealous because I stopped making googly eyes at him and started looking at y/n druski2funny: y/n would have been better off dating me y/nthesongstress: now druski..... don't make me hurt your feelings urbanwyatt: lmaoooooo druski2funny: we could have done amazing things together y/n jackharlow: druski2funny don't make me kick your ass lilnasx: y/nthesongstress mani pedi date and it's your turn to pay jackharlow: oohhh mani pedi? count me in! lilnasx: andddd third wheeling again 😭

Liked by urbanwyatt, claybornharlow, quiiso, generationnow, champagnepapi,lilnasx, 2forwoyne, and 3,284,732 others

y/nthesongstress: I got the cutest dinner date 😍

druski2funny: I mean he's okay, he not alladat 🙃 lilnasx: and here his hating ass goes jackharlow: druski2funny will you give it up already?!? druski2funny: *insert bugs bunny meme* NO jackharlow: anyway 🙄 jackharlow: y/nthesongstress as long as I get to have you for dessert teyanataylor: can the two of you not keep your hands off each other for five minutes? jackharlow: teyanataylor no y/nthesongstress: teyanataylor no 2forwoyne: make sure yall bring me back any leftovers urbanwyatt: 2forwoyne I already called dibs, get in line y/nthesongstress: does yall best friend not feed yall? 2forwoyne: no urbanwyatt: no quiiso: no shloob_: no yungskylark: no jackharlow: now why are all of yall up here lying? 2forwoyne: y/nthesongstress your boyfriend hasn't fed me since the beginning of the CHTKMY tour jackharlow: 2forwoyne NOW....... y/nthesongstress: 😭😭😭😭😭

Liked by y/nthesongstress, dojacat, victoriamonet, urbanwyatt, glorillapimp, and 3,293,786 others

jackharlow: mesmerized every time I watch her. On and off the stage 😜

lilnasx: just like I said, NASTY. But my girl ATE though! get it baby! y/nthesongstressupdates: imma need her to sit on me jackharlow: me first y/nthesongstress: jackharlow you need to behave lol can't take you anywhere urbanwyatt: y/nthesongstress it's only going to get worse from here on out, I can feel it. it all started with him forgetting to feed us jackharlow: urbanwyatt yall are grown ass adults who can feed yourselves! and y/nthesongstress it's not my fault that you look so good all the time y/nthesongstress: urbanwyatt don't worry urby, I got your back. all of you can come over for dinner tonight and jack is paying jackharlow: WHAAAAT?! we were supposed to have a night in with JUST US 2forwoyne: pulling up in an hour yungskylark: someone come get me! jackharlow: not her volunteering me to feed the entire Kentucky army jackharlowsource: NOT HIM CALLING THEM THE KENTUCKY ARMY jackharlow: not about to have any food in my house smh y/nthesongstress: jackharlow oh, but you'll have plenty of food baby 😏😉 urbanwyatt: I..... please not in front of my salad jackharlow: y/nthesongstress OH, well I'm ready and urbanwyatt seriously? lilnasx: all I know is that I better be the first one to get a wedding invite and I want it hand delivered to me for putting up with all this lovey dovey shit

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21

@variety-fangirl

@gbaabyyyy

@kamorsstuff

@harlowthot

@sinsandsuccubus

@curlyhairclub

@bootlegroach

@haylexo10

@thinkingaboutjharlow

@fluidsentiment

@charli123456789

@moody4world

@yourstrulymayah

@yana4life

@beanbagbitch

@alinaharlow

@carma-fanficaddict

@minaxcarter

@arination99

@xjup1t3r

@venusvinc

@jackharloww

@midnight-star47

@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

@exoticr0ses

@jharlowsangels

@jackierose902109

@knack4harlow

@cmalass

@megawhoree

@softtcurse

@sia2raw

@miniaturehideoutmentality

@hoya122

@nattinatalia

@jackslover12

@skyesthebomb

@jackharlows-world

@louisianalady

@fdl305

@automaticpeachsong

@harlowcomehome

@gassyandsassy1

@babygirlwilly

@amethyst09

@harrycanyonmoonn

@bout-mine

@tattered-tales

@sisiking99

@dessxoxsworld

@gillybear17

@jacksdaycare

@iheartharlow

@disaster-rose

@babyvinnie

@evansxchalamet

@chtkmyharlow​

@itsyagirljaz

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@awhore4moree

@a-moment-captured

@jackmans-poison

@valentinqee

@lightsoutstyles

@j-worlds-blog

@middlechild404

@0elliotswhore

@iknowdatsrightbih

@w1ldthoughts

@love2loveonme

@hufflewhore128

@shawtypoison

@fantasywritersstuff

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow blurb #instagram au #jack harlow instagram au

[zarla-s]

thoughts on sniperspy specifically?

A classic! If you want a good spicy rivalship then they have you covered, haha. I've seen them range from dark obsessive murder guro to domestic tsunderes, they can really do it all. They have a really fun antagonistic dynamic that's a lot of fun to play with, whether they're banging or just hanging out together platonically. Spy's such an aloof snob and Sniper is a filthy weirdo so it's a lot of fun to see how they tweak each other. They've always been a rather popular ship even way back in the day and there's a reason why, they're great counterpoints to each other and in-game they're always interacting with each other in some way. Well really, mostly Spy is hunting Sniper, it's unlikely for a Sniper to be hunting a Spy unless they're fighting after a failed backstab, but you know what I mean. Sometimes when there are too many Snipers hassling my team I think "where are all the Spies?? Killing Snipers is their job!" to myself. I can't really judge though, I'm a terrible Spy lol.

I also love screenshots of Spies about to kill a Sniper that's killed you. Getting sniped always sucks but the bot crisis has made it REALLY frustrating, so it's very satisfying to see a Spy about to get revenge for you, haha. I even have a screenshot of my own!

sniper is an evil class Anyway, some of my favorite bits of fanart for them are Sniper winning Spy toys at a shooting gallery, this one where Spy can't tell if Sniper is threatening or flirting with him, this one with them walking in the heat, and this one with Sniper covering his unmasked face.

#asks and answers #lovedtogekiss #team fortress 2 #sniperspy #bloody suit #i know snipers also should be killing other snipers that's their real job #but sniper removal IS a big part of spy's job #i definitely get stabbed by spies a lot as a sniper lol

[swifty-fox]

After reading all the sexy clegan asks, I would pay some good money to watch their OF 😵‍💫. I feel like this is a more polite way of saying I want to be the fly on the while while gale gets twisted into a pretzal. Or while John gets bent over the dinner table. Swifty, my dude (slides a case full of money across a table), how do you feel about an AU where two beautiful entrepreneurs take agency of their body's and their sexualities and make some good, honest money... together 😉. (I feel like I'm turning into Barry in Saltburn. I would drink the bathwater. SEND HELP. I need psychiatric care now!)

John Gamer Girl Bathwater lmao.

but!! your mind anon lmao. I got to spend a fun night with a couple aussie SW's a few years ago after a cancelled festival (not in THAT way. had a mutual acquaintance and offered to hang out with them since we all suddenly had no plans) and It was fun picking their brains about their lives. They were both primarily dancers.

John starts an only fans after graduating college with a degree in sports management. It's not that he CAN'T get a job but he's suddenly like 'fuck just because i like sports do i really wanna make this my career???' kinda lounges around a bit until the bills poke him on the shoulder. He's like hmmmmm wow if i go into the service industry i'll kill someone. I'm hot I got abs and a mustache and I'm six three I can probably do this. Starts off with a lotta POV handjobs and general thirst traps. He doe's great, its John Egan so he's just got that natural charisma and his voice is deep and shoulders broad and he's real good at dirty talking so he does custom audios for a price. Gets into the collab world on twitter and kinda shoots up in fame real quick. More of a top, bi asf like all my au's so he's kinda going across the board. He's pretty open about what his job is and the people who have a problem with it he kindly tells to fuck off

Gale starts one to put himself through his masters degree then finds out it kinda just.... makes a lot more money with a much looser schedule LOL.

He takes a long while to get good at it. He's hot as hell and has all the creepy dom top accounts all over him but he's shy and takes him a long time to figure out how to sell his content properly. He can't quite get into the cock hungry bottom bitch slut role that people wanna shove him into and it hurts him a bit. But he does manage to get a decently sized following pretty quick. King of the moaning clips, great fuckin one-on-one vidoes of him riding a toy.

John stumbles across Gale as everyone does: scrolling the porn tag on twitter looking for a lil somethin somethin. Those pretty lips wet and flushed as if they've been thoroughly used and those soulful eyes looking up at the camera as Gale hangs his head off the edge of a bed ready to be a perfect sleeve for his dick.

He wrings one out real fuckin quick, drops him a follow and a DM in that order introducing himself and asking if he's ever done a collab.

of course Gale already follows John. He thinks he's handsome but hes got no interest mixing business and pleasure (lmao just wait pookie). He's also never done a collab, never fucked another person on camera. But. but.

John is handsome.

And he knows the guy is legit and safe, has seen him ALL OVER (certified bicycle John Egan always) and knows he's had good reviews.

Gale's had many DM's asking for collabs. This is the first he accepts.

How can he not when John is in there saying "Hey man great content. Would to love maybe have you fuck me" as casual as can be.

Gale's never thought to FUCK someone on camera. Sure he likes both but like I said people want a certain image from. So that in of itself is appealing.

He agrees wholeheartedly

He puts John on his knees on a mattress and pulls his hair until his eyes water, presses him down with a hand between his shoulderblades for that perfect fuckin arch and and spanks him until John is jumping away from even a brush of his hands and whimpering, camera angled to get the perfect shot of his tear stained cheeks.

"Come on darlin," gale croons in that drawl "The people wanna see you break for them, give it all to me."

He fucks John, ass still stinging so he flinches every time Gale bottoms out but damn does he love it and damn does it make for good content.

John comes out of that session already in love.

and of course collabs usually film a bunch of content. gotta capitalize.

So after some rest and recuperation John does exactly what he's fantasized about and lays Gale over the edge of his bed and fucks his throat. Loud and wet and noisy. Spit and pre-come and tears dripping down Gales face into his hair; onto the floor. John takes a little break to rub it all over his face and tell him he makes such a good pocket pussy. Gale's gunna come just from this if Johns not careful. He doesn't have to worry though because once John goes back down his throat he reaches over and gives Gale a nice handy.

Spins him around and fucks him while he's too sensitive and screaming, half cringing away from it but also grinding back because fuck is does John know how to fuck.

John gripping gales hips in his big hands and telling him "Now you're not running away from me yet sweetheart haven't rode you raw yet"

They fuck a lot more. a LOT more. For the content of course. And then theyre like hey maybe we should move in together as colleagues and friends. Except??? maybe?? they start fucking off camera. And maybe they cuddle on the couch. and hold hands. and kiss and go on dates. And maybe they get married?? As colleagues of course.....or not

#swiftytalks #lore drop alert #buck x bucky #mota #i gotta go to the gym in a bit so send your Q's now! #OF AU #i really wrote this all out at 7 am i aint even had my oatmeal yet #if you wanna ask me about smut i AM going to be nasty

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S06E11

Retrospectively, this episode had a good promo, as it made it look more high-stakes than it actually was. That’s not to mean it was a bad episode but the actual episode made Rex's situation look decidedly less dire.

We get right into it, and I think I’d have preferred a first scene with Sarah picking up the phone and being told that Charlie is in the hospital, or a scene where they find Charlie. And their first interaction seems bland, sorry.

That lady is creepy. She could be an unsub on Criminal Minds.

Charlie’s threshold above which he can leave the hospital is: “Can I walk?” *limps, staggers* “Eh, good enough. Let’s go find Rex.”

I get why creepy lady had to treat Rex, script-wise, but after that point it was like his injury practically disappeared. Another miraculous recovery. 

"I never should have let him chase that trailer". What are you talking about, Rex chasing people is literally how you guys catch 80% of the criminals.

"I was being a cowboy". How this comes up after so many cases of both Charlie and Rex exhibiting this kind of behavior and is now considered cowboy behavior while in the past it has been considered police work, I don't know.

"Your bark is bigger than your bite"? The disrespect! Allow him to demonstrate.

"Rocky it is". Oh, hell no, lady.

You have to admire the astonishingly amateurish work of the thieves. They go to "steal" the horse, they get seen. They go back to get the clippers, they get seen again.

Hey, they're using Jesse as a detective again. Good for you, Jesse Mills.

They actually started searching the barns one by one? Oh, my.

Joe and Sarah keeping an eye on Charlie. But just. Keeping an eye.

Why is he talking with the guy like they had a mere brawl? Like, shove him against the wall, Rex is missing! I demand some violence for this.

I appreciate Sarah's tactile approach of making sure Charlie is okay every five minutes lol

Of course Rex, even injured and captured, would still be looking to get the murder weapon. A consummate professional.

"Cardinal rule of marriage, ask for forgiveness, not permission". What an idiot. You're at the divorce lawyer's door and you don't even know it, dumbass.

This might be the dumbest reason for a person to get caught in other people's bullshit and end up getting murdered. Being witness to a fake theft orchestrated by the person who actually owns the horse, and trying to stop it. In another show, the guy would become a vengeful ghost, rightfully so.

Oh yeah, that lady is scary. And apparently, abusive too.

Rex's ears perking up as he hears the sound of Sarah's car is like, "oh fucking finally, they've come to get me out of here". And then he gets sedated. Poor dog is having a hell of a day.

Charlie heard Rex's whine with... supersonic hearing? First the growling, now this. I think he's becoming part dog.

Oh yeah, this is what people with concussions and limps should do.

"Another blow to the head could be serious". Oh, you mean, another, other blow? Also, another concussion even weeks later can actually cause second-impact syndrome, and kill him. I think he's due for a vacation.

"I'll keep my head down". That response alone warrants some violence.

"Not hurt are you?" Well, it's been like a full day since Rex was shot. He's totally fine.

I think the promo overhyped the episode, but it was still good. I needed a bit more emotion from everyone, to be honest. The hospital scene could be longer but at least they remembered to show the side effects of getting a concussion, somewhat. I still maintain that someone should have died for shooting Rex, but that would be to satisfy me personally. The excess of violence should be acceptable if someone shoots a dog. See John Wick. Also, at which point will they come up with the idea to put a GPS tracker on Rex? A GPS tracker on Charlie would be a good idea too, for a grown man he's surprisingly easy to lose :P

At some point, all of this should blow over to a scene where Sarah accuses Charlie of being reckless, but I'm not holding my breath.

Promo: The SJPD precinct continues to be a dangerous place to work. I'd say there are smarter ways of getting the police's attention than trying to hold one of their people at knife-point. But hey, I appreciate it regardless. I'm glad the tone of the season has changed from "we don't know what the fuck we're doing" to "Hudson and Rex, in which everyone is having a terribly dangerous time".

#hudson and rex #I mean if you're a fan of whump this season is turning out to be chef's kiss

[the-owl-tree]

I fr don’t know how the erins wrote such a twisted, triggering abusive couple and story line again and again. they don’t even answer for it in a way that takes into account their audience who reads their books and sees their parents doing this exact shit. this is some shit that would send me into a spiral as a kid. I am genuinely shocked and appalled that they’re still making books. not to say warriors should end but… they are actively producing harmful content marketed towards children

had to take a little women & cooking break from this book lol

i'm not done the book yet so i might be shooting myself in the foot....but at the same time i'm pretty confident i've identified some of the reasons why this book is the way it is. for how awful the book is, it is pretty revealing:

-Okay, get the obvious one out of the way: Warriors does not treat its female characters and its male characters equally. This bleeds into ALL their writing, and this super edition is just as impacted by it. Whether or not we like these characters or not, this double standard is at play.

-The books believe that Squirrelflight and Bramblestar's fighting makes them better, that their disagreements make them a good team and challenge each other. Squirrelflight in particular is considered argumentative by her clanmates, something which is treated as comedic in the early chapters:

(note the wording, squilf is the argumentative unreasonable one).

Obviously, this isn't true. Their quarreling does NOT make them stronger and Bramblestar frequently uses his position to actively punish her when she disagrees with him to the point he'd forbid her from arguing with him in public. Squirrelflight disagreeing with him is shown by the narrative as her doing what's right (which is good!) but the fact Bramblestar CAN and WILL use his position to shut her up is bad. These fights are not equal and the authors won't acknowledge that, so the rest of the cast in ThunderClan also don't see this as bad.

-Bramblestar isn't meant to be seen as right and we're SUPPOSED to see his actions as cruel and heartless....but the authors want you to think about how pressured and stressed he is. They do not want to acknowledge just how bad his actions are. People act like Squirrelflight is piling shit onto him (this is not true and i actually kind of want to make a post about just how this plot point as been taken out of context and misused by people who want bramblestar to look good but another time another time)....but the book does not want to see this as a repeated part of his personality because the authors do not see Bramblestar as a bad person at heart, just that he's misguided and not acting rationally. Not true! We've seen this behavior prior. But that leads to my next point-

-While the narrative isn't trying to convince you that Bramblestar is correct, it still wants you to think that Squirrelflight has done something to earn this treatment. Her going behind Bramblestar's back is treated as wrong and Squirrelflight's narration has her imploring the reader to think about his perspective. The writers want you to believe that things could have gone better had she just talked to him...but fail to acknowledge that the Bramblestar they've written is completely unreasonable and acting irrationally. He actively does not listen in earlier chapters but they still want you to believe Squirrelflight disobeying him is worth her being flamed as well.

Note: this is a repeated pattern. she apologizes to him about her suspicions about hawkfrost....despite being completely right.

-The authors use characters are situational antagonists (and often repeatedly use these characters! Thornclaw and Blossomfall have the consistent trait of being actively xenophobic and cruel to outsiders) but they refuse to address these as bad or have these characters be confronted for this. Bramblestar falls into this category, he is antagonist for this book but because he apologizes and is secretly good at heart or whatever, the authors don't have to interrogate just how much harm he is doing to those around him. They needed conflict, used Bramblestar for that, and once the conflict was resolved, went back to use him as a main character without examining the shit he did as an antagonist.

Thornclaw is like the prime example of this he is routinely bigoted and awful and yet is just treated like a normal member of the Clan. So it's not just a Bramblestar, this is a broader writing issue.

aannnd those are my little theories based on this reading. it sucks ass and i need bramblestar to die asap.

#deer reads squirrelflight's hope

[otakween]

Digimon Tamers - Episode 45

I hesitate to call this the final battle because Digimon's always throwing out surprise bosses. That being said, considering how few episodes are left, this feels like the beginning to the end. They're finally confronting the D-Reaper head-on and they've digivolved to ultimate. The auxiliary folks are joining as well.

Looking back on it, this show has had really good pacing and hasn't really felt long at all. It was less segmented than previous seasons which I think helped it.

Notes:

I thought the kids' speeches in the beginning were kind of clunky. Jian brings up that he was spoiled "as a kid" (you still are a kid buddy) and Ruki talks about her dad randomly. Like...okay...I do get what they were going for, with the overall theme being how friendship has given them strength, but they shouldn't have brought up random stuff that hadn't been established before. Like Jian being spoiled and wanting attention isn't something we ever really saw, so I think he got over that before meeting Ruki and Takato.

Alice being licked by the disembodied head of Dobermon was more creepy than touching. I wish they had at least given him forelegs or something.

Alice walking away from the explosion like an action star was unintentionally funny

Glad to see the ultimate digivolution sequences again, definitely one of my favorite bits of animation from this series.

I guess the army (I know Japan doesn't really have an army...SDF?) has given up on fighting the D-Reaper lol. I guess it's a bit like shooting at a natural disaster: hopeless.

Takato addresses Dukemon by name which took me off guard because, isn't he a part of Dukemon? (Like in Steven Universe, Ruby or Sapphire wouldn't be like "hey Garnet!") Kinda fuzzy how this digivolution works from a body/soul/mind perspective.

Equally confusing is how the digimon are in their perfect forms (Rapidmon, MegaloGrowmon, and Taomon), yet to digivolve to ultimate they go back to their child forms first. (Probably for ease of animation honestly)

I feel like the D-Reaper felt like more of an immediate threat in the digital world. Like it went from insta-destroying everything it touches to just weakening things. Maybe the ultimate forms are more resistant?

I enjoyed seeing Kenta's mom for the first time. We don't get plus-sized (by anime standards) anime moms too often and I liked her design.

Very glad to see Antiramon again! I guess we haven't really seen them fight much yet, so I hope they get in on the action.

Impmon still bullies Culumon in the exact same way but now it has buddy-buddy undertones lol. Nice to see their relationship improve.

So I guess the D-Reaper used Juri to analyze the human race and deemed us unworthy. This is just your average "AI destroying its creator" plot line now. What exactly DOES D-Reaper find useful? I guess the AI learned nihilism and is just like "EVERYTHING IS MEANINGLESS." Mood.

Someone pointed out that Juri's behavior isn't too different than the dark seed kids from 02, which is a good point. With only 6 episodes left...I don't think Tamers is really that dark compared to the other seasons. It had that one episode that got kinda edgy, but in the grand scheme of things, nothing too brutal. Well, we'll see.

#digimon #digimon tamers #anime #spoilers #spoiler

[greatpawtender]

same anon lol. follow up from my previous ask (I started thinking about oz and the original team more):

augh. Thinking about laurent genuinely trying to connect with makoto and failing. Thinking about him watching abbie and cynthia connect with makoto effortlessly, and feeling left out. Thinking about him talking to oz about it, and realising that oz knows nothing about makoto at all. laurent getting angry, because even he knows makoto better, and suddenly feels responsible for him. imagining laurent blaming oz, blaming shi-won because they "made" him this way, even though by now he's responsible for his own actions. I'm imagining shi-won specifically calling him out on this, because she's been there the longest. how even though he suffered, at some point he has to accept that his decisions were his own. and that arguably, makoto was put through far, far worse things than he was.

laurent empathising with makoto more and more and starting to feel kind of angry on his behalf, but realising that by now there's very little he can do... he can resent the remaining members of the original team confidence all he wants, but they've been so good to him. they're old friends but they're also walking wounds. he can blame shi-won for teaching dorothy, for bringing him to dorothy. he can blame oz for giving him makoto to work with. he can blame them, but it's not going to change anything. shi-won at least stuck by his side, so she's easier to forgive. oz is harder to forgive, even if he gave up everything for dorothy, for laurent. laurent is splitting hairs here, because he still blames them less than he blames himself.

I think once laurent has this realisation, he doesn't really know what to do with himself. he still does cons and stuff because he probably feels like anything else would be boring, but I think he now kind of wants to shoot oz (not shi-won, because like I said, her sticking directly by his side all those years makes it easier for him to "forgive" her). he gives himself reasons to hurt oz in these cons because he doesn't know when to quit a bad habit when he's spiralling. oz notices, but he doesn’t say anything. he does whatever laurent asks of him, because he's right. I don't think oz feels bad for laurent, however (I think he just feels bad for makoto at this point, because he's already processed most of his grief and self-loathing regarding miki).

I think oz is the type of person to mask his loneliness. he probably cares about laurent the same way two people in a jail cell care about each other. he does whatever laurent asks of him almost like a peace offering, because he's used to just playing whatever role people ask of him without question. he probably doesn't know who he is anymore, and he probably doesn't care. he'll just follow whatever laurent says because the memories he made with team confidence stick to him like old wallpaper, and he can't bring himself to peel them off. he traded one life for another, and he lost both of them.

unlike them, I imagine shi-won already made peace with her demons long ago. there's a reason she told kudo to just let his daughter go. there's a reason why she didn't get an arc to herself. I don't think she feels bad that they're going through this, but she probably tries to distract them once in a while because the one-sided tension between them is annoying to deal with.

sorry I'm a little skdjsjajfj about them

as it is, it feels to me that oz just goes along with what others want most of the time. he isn't too different from makoto in that regard orz

op how does it feel like to be the sexiest person on earth

god god god I LOVEE your thoughts about laurent theyre so incredibly great I've never seen more correct hcs than yours

laurent and oz bonding over fucking up makotos life augohfj its sad but. But. sigh

laurent empathizing with makoto and somehow relating to him now bc he realizes he kinda been through the same shit as him. but like. makoto dealt with way worse so he cant really say anything so he lashes out at the og team instead orz 😭

oz doing everything laurent asks kf him the same way makoto does too now . im going insanw now.

thanks op sorry i dont have anything to say bht please know that i fucking love all ur thoughts about this thank you so much you have opened my eyes

#AUOOHJHFJ #thank u for introducing me to laurent/oz ship too. i love old man yaoi #well tbh ive always been considering them but i never really shipped them fully bc it was awkward since everyone shipped edaurent #and i felt weird if i ship the guy with the other guy's Dad #but im not an edaurent guy anyway #i hope you edaurent shippers are thriving though #grepre #great pretender #chair rambles #ask #anon ask

[love-toxin]

The Quarry had such potential to be amazing, they had some great characters but the plot wasn't great. The ending felt so pathetic. We go into the woods all dramatic like and end up just shooting silas in his bed. And that's it. No group emotional group meet up, no finding out what happens when they all find out who loved and who died, the police interviews in Until Dawn were great. The podcast at the end of the Quarry was so boring!

On the plus side really really want to get railed in a jealous Nick and Jacob sandwich. Even better if they've just been infected and can't control themselves. Both of them tugging and manhandling you around as they rip at your clothes, ignoring your tears but both moaning when you whimper, as they both desperately try to get their cock in you first

(major ending spoilers!! also me being down horrendous LOL)

RIGHT??? like the absolute worst thing you could do for a game like this is to not focus the conclusion on the characters we actually care about. i haven't seen anyone that actually liked the podcast, and why would you categorize the evidence you find as being evidence to give to the police, and then never even give it to them? it's just given to two randos that we never meet or see once! and i agree, the whole silas ending was so weak. and is it just me or was the whole werewolf blood thing totally useless? like maybe I've only seen endings where they haven't gotten a hold of it but it seems like it doesn't even do anything so it makes no difference whether you give it to ryan or laura. plus the fact that the only real difference is that you kill off three of the characters if you spare silas and eliza is STILL pissed off at you no matter what you do, like it would've been so much more psychologically horrifying if she actually praised you for sparing him and made it feel like killing off the characters you've grown to like and have kept alive was the right thing to do. still wouldn't have been a great ending but it would have been better than what we got. alas.

HOWEVER. more importantly. pre-werewolf jacob/nick sandwich......god i wanna eiffel tower them so bad 🥵🥵 especially bc nick is proven to be abominably horny in his pre-transformation stage, while jacob shows how insecure he really is, and both extremes are a recipe for hot, hot, jealousy sex. nick is so possessive and greedy and wants as much of you as he can grab, while jacob is clingy and needy and desperate to be as close to you as he possibly can because he needs to feel you against him. even better if they both had crushes on you beforehand, because now they're truly rivals, and not just for their beloved pb butterpops. both of them just fondling you out in the open and so territorial over you that you can feel the heat from borh sides, your cries totally drowned out by jacob kissing you, loudly, and nick mumbling absolutely foul comments in your ear about your body and how he's gonna fuck you like he's been fantasizing about doing since the first day of camp. and you don't even have a moment to say anything about being out in the open, they don't care about stripping you naked in the middle of the forest, nobody is gonna come near when they smell (and hear) two werewolves descending on some poor little human. all they care about is warming their cocks inside you, whether they can both fit or one of them has to take up residence in your mouth. it's even scarier but also kind of hot when their eyes start turning dark and their nails dig into you when they cum, and when they finally break off of you you know that you just have to run. stumble through the woods like a newborn calf with cum-soaked legs and a bitter taste in your mouth, just hoping that you can make it back to the lodge and your friends and hurry inside--you don't yet know what's happening, but the pained screams followed immediately by howling from behind you certainly can't be a sign of anything good.

#the quarry #jacob custos #nick furcillo #jacob custos x reader #nick furcillo x reader #anons

[magniloquent-raven]

~~tag list ppl @growup-thatbeautiful @spreckle @prettyboy-like-you 💕💕hope yall are in the mood for some mungrove lol~~

cw: implied child abuse

(read on ao3)

They don't talk about it. 

They shoot the shit about music and books, they argue about who's the most annoying member of the basketball team—Billy always points out that he has insider knowledge, so his opinion carries more weight, and besides, Eddie only thinks it's Jason because he wants to get in Chrissy Cunningham's pants, but he's full of shit—and sometimes, rarely, they commiserate about growing up with shitty dads. They hang out in Eddie's trailer getting high, and more often than not nowadays that ends with their jeans in a pile on the floor. 

It's just…something that happens. Billy's an attractive guy, and he moans like a fucking porn star when Eddie tugs on his hair for better access to his mouth. Eddie's a little bit addicted. And maybe that's got him acting reckless. Being stupid about things he shouldn't take risks with.

Because they've never talked about it. Billy lets him get rough, eggs him on until he pushes and enjoys every second of it. It's easy to believe him when he acts like he doesn't have any limits. It's easy to forget how wrong this could go when Eddie doesn't know where the lines are.

Until he finds one by crossing it.

He has Billy crowded against his cluttered wall, a poster crinkling behind him, corner caught on the rough edge of his cutoff tanktop. He's warm, pressed to Eddie's chest, to his palms, he's always so warm. His throat works beneath Eddie's fingers, adam's apple bobbing, and his eyes are unfocused, long eyelashes dipping low over hazy blue. 

Eddie digs his thumbnail into the underside of Billy's jaw, turning his face so he can get a better look at the smudges of purple dotting the side of his neck with a curling satisfaction. It takes work to leave marks on Billy, he barely bruises at all, but when he does it's fucking gorgeous. 

"Lookit you…" Eddie says softly, shifting his thigh between Billy's legs just to watch his lips part around a groan. "What would your braindead goons say if they could see you now, huh? Big man on campus riding my thigh like a little whore." 

His grip on the back of Eddie's shirt tightens, fingertips digging into his shoulderblades. All that manages to do is pull them closer. Eddie is more than happy to lean in, his nose brushing Billy's flushed cheek, a grin tugging at his lips. He rolls his hips, relishing the way Billy meets the motion almost desperately, seeking friction. 

"Mnmg, fuck you," Billy mumbles, belatedly, his protest weak, breathy. 

"Sorry, what was that? Didn't quite hear you." 

All at once Billy tenses. 

It's a small change. He doesn't pull away, he doesn't make a sound. But the rhythm of his movements stutters, fumbling, and it takes Eddie a long moment to realize he flinched. Billy flinched. He's…never done that before. Eddie's snapped a leather belt at him once and it just made his laugh, which might have impressed him if it wasn't so annoying. 

He never thought it would be so terrifying to see Billy actually falter. 

Maybe if he'd recovered immediately it would've been fine. If he'd stayed putty in Eddie's hands. But there's an odd expression on his face that Eddie can't parse, and Billy turns away when he sees him trying to. 

Eddie slips his hand from Billy's throat to cup his cheek, gently. "Hey…" He manages to keep the tremors out of his voice. It helps no one if he lets slip how much he's freaking out. 

"Don't," Billy growls. 

There are tears in his eyes. It's not the first time Eddie's seen him cry, but he's never been the cause, not like this. His stomach drops with an unpleasant swoop. 

"Are you—"

"Just, just fucking—keep going." 

"Billy—"

"Shut up and fuck me."

"No."

Billy's gaze snaps to his, blue eyes full of helpless anger, glassy and red-rimmed. A muscle in his cheek twitches, and Eddie can feel his jaw clench. "Then get off me," he says curtly, making no attempt to move away. He's rigid and trembling like a cornered animal, but still clutching Eddie's shirt. 

"Tell me what I did wrong."

"Get off."

Eddie meets his glare with a flat look. "Make me."

He doesn't.

But he doesn't relax either. Eddie lets out a quiet breath and tucks a curl behind Billy's ear. "You know I won't hurt you when you don't want me to, right?"

Billy makes a tiny, wet sound. His brows draw together, and his bottom lip trembles, despite his efforts to keep his expression neutral. "Like you could," he mutters in a strained voice.

"...Yeah, whatever, we can't all lift weights for fun." Eddie snorts, and knocks his forehead against Billy's, just a tap before he pulls back again, smiling small and brief. "I did do something, didn't I? You're obviously not okay, and, I mean…I just, don't like that it's my fault, okay."

"It's not."

"It kind of is though."

"It's not, it's…" Billy grits his teeth. "It's fucking stupid."

"Y'know, I always avoid spending time with you after you work on the Camaro. Because you come around smelling like engine grease and suddenly I can't breathe, 'cause…I feel like I'm five years old again, watching my dad get manhandled into the back of a cop car." He trails off with a shaky, humorless laugh. "Can't be stupider than that."

It feels like an overshare. Not the time to bring that up. They never get into that kind of shit when they're this sober, and he's never offered something up like a bargaining chip just to get Billy to open his stubborn mouth. His palms feel clammy while he waits for a response, trying to pick something out of Billy's unreadable expression. 

"Just…don't ask me to repeat myself," he says finally, every word coming out of his mouth like he had to drag it out by the neck.

Eddie's brain stalls. He blinks.

"He hates it when I mumble."

"...Oh." His first instinct is to apologize. A weepy, messy thing caught in his chest, unproductively wallowing in self-loathing. This can't have been the first time he's asked Billy to repeat himself. It is just the first time he's noticed how much it bothers him? Or was there something different about this time. Was it a combination of things. Guilt floods his insides, cold and writhing, as he tries to recall every conversation they've ever had. 

But he stops himself. He can't make a big deal out of this. Or at least, he'll have to wait until Billy isn't around to have his massive freak-out.

This can't be Billy's only hard limit, and if Eddie falls all over himself being weird about this one chances are Billy will clam up and he'll never find out what the rest are.

"Good to know. Full offence to Neil, he is the last thing I want you to be thinking about while I'm touching your dick, so, uh. Is there anything else I should know?"

Billy chokes out a damp laugh. Success. A grin blooms on Eddie's face in response as Billy drawls, "If I think of anything I'll let you know."

He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Billy's mouth, with an exaggerated noise and everything, just to get Billy to sputter indignantly. "You better."

#mungrove #billy hargrove #eddie munson #stranger things #a raven's writing desk #hello it's projecting onto billy o'clock

[capricioussun]

What job/hobby would Lace choose, if he could?

Very happy to talk abt Lace bc I've been thinking abt him a lot (valentines day is the main cause of this as it always makes me think of him <3)

Depending on when in his primary storyline, he'd probably give several different answers! Underground, he probably would've loved to work at Grillby's being one of the, uh, "servers", but unfortunately, he got roped into being in the guard before he really got the chance to consider anything else.

Post surfacing in a non-mv setting, he'd honestly feel a bit lost for a haute minute, but then he might get into something like journalism as a writer or photographer honestly! Sometimes i do wonder if he might become an accidental model, which is actually partially tied to the next answer-

While it may also eventually happen in a non-mv setting, i think it would happen for certain or more quickly in a mv surface setting, but he'd become a dancer! Though it's not something he realizes he wants to do until he’s already doing it lol, it was recommended as a sort of physical therapy type activity to help him find a healthier coping mechanism for his magic issues, and once he started, it wasn't long before he completely fell in love with it.

I say that ones partially tied to the model idea because a looong time ago, I'd had this whole little mental movie abt him getting asked to participate in a shoot/interview by a magazine guy who'd seen him dance. Since he’s generally out of the loop of mainstream media, he doesn't realize it's actually for a huge magazine, a story about monsters and how they've been finding their way settling into surface life amongst humanity.

Idrk how all that stuff works so you'll need to suspend your disbelief a little for that one, but basically just generally the idea of getting "scouted" and not really realizing it until suddenly people are calling and emailing him and asking about his "agent" and he’s like um hello??? What- but that one isn't as certain as the former two, which are definitely more solidified as part of his lore 👍

So basically that's all to say he doesn't usually pick jobs so much as fall into them lmao, he gets a little overwhelmed, but really, his heart lies in interacting with others and seeing the world. Very curious and friendly this one 💖

#the accidental model thing was honestly a little inspired by the secret life of Walter Mitty movie (remake..?) #the newest one #the end where he sees himself in the cover makes me so emotional #the imagery had basically ended with similar. of Lace seeing himself on the cover and being *completely* caught off guard #feeling a little anxious and overwhelmed but excited and...and maybe feeling a bit of genuine pride for the first time in a long time #OUGH #lace my beloved #i have a few wips with him I'd like to finish in feb #ty ty <333 #clear sky sunset #anonymous #lf lace #lovefell papyrus #lovefell #sun spots

[suna1suna1]

It's WIP Wednesday again!

Alright, the tag game didn't work super great either, but that's okay. I got one person to play and they've got a really cool webcomic wip so it's all good lol

So, no art wips this week, but I do have an announcement.

The first chapter of To Catch a Hedgehog will be posted on AO3 next Thursday (probably after I get home from taking my chemistry exam)! After that, until such a time as it has been completely finished, I will update monthly, on the 1st of each month. I'm super excited to share this fic with all of you, and I hope you enjoy it! If you're looking forward to it, mark your calendars for February 1st! ^^

Now, here's this week's tag (go follow them, they're really cool) @deadrabbithq

And here's this week's progress! (that I totally didn't do late last night nope)

Shadow: "Sure. Let's go with that."

Shadow: "On another note, how attached to your job are you?"

Rouge: "0_0" 

Rouge: "Nah, I'm sitting this one out. You have fun. I'll try and cover your tracks." 

Shadow: "I didn't ask you to do that." 

Rouge: "You asked me if I was willing to be fired. I'm not. I'm compromising." 

Shadow: "Fair enough." 

There was another chime, and a new email address appeared in his inbox. No profile picture. The name was a string of nonsensical numbers and letters. 

yy783y7hhuqq7ht: "Would have come up with something cooler if my roommate had let me but oh well. It's me." 

Shadow rolled his eyes before he replied. 

Shadow: "What would you have come up with?" 

Sonic: "idk, fastest.thing.alive? Oh, wait... fuck, that's my ex's email. DAMN IT WHY'D HE TAKE THE COOL ONE?"

Shadow bit back a laugh as another message from Rouge came through. 

Rouge: "Look, just be careful, okay? It's not just losing your job you'll have to worry about." 

Shadow: "I know." 

He closed the window with their chat and turned his focus back to Sonic. 

Shadow: "Anyway, who is it that's gone completely 'Netic?" 

Sonic: "...Alright, here's an idea. It would be easier if I showed you. But since I can't trust you not to try and shoot my brains out, you come unarmed, and I bring back-up." 

Shadow: "Alright... but come where?"

Sonic: "The Mobius Strip. It's an Xtreme racing track. I used to race there not too long ago." 

Shadow: "Why did you stop?" 

Sonic: "Eh, dated a guy I met there for a little while, but he's just kind of a douche, so I try to avoid him." 

Shadow recalled the green-feathered hawk he'd seen talking to Sonic the night he followed him and Knuckles down to Station Square, and his quills stood in revulsion as he shuddered. If that was who he thought he was, he could see why Sonic would want nothing to do with him. 

Shadow: "Do you miss it?" 

Sonic: "Well, yeah, I guess... It was decent money for me too. But I couldn't trust that he wouldn't sabotage me because we broke up, so I cut my losses..." 

Shadow: "I take it you won quite a bit then? Or were you a foul player?"

Sonic: ">:( Rude, man. I race fair and square. Not my fault I'm aerodynamic." 

Shadow: "I've seen you on your gear. That's abnormally fast." 

Sonic: "Okay, yes, but that was after I quit. I had a friend juice it up for me. Better for running from the Hounds. And you. Oh, wait... you have those stupid rocket boots." 

Shadow: "Implants. Got them shortly after the Council died." 

Sonic: "Dude, just say they were murdered. We all know they were. Hell, you might have even done it."

Shadow: "Now who's being rude? I didn't. That was somebody else. At that time I was still in college." 

Sonic: "You went to college?"

Shadow: "Had to drop out before I got my bachelor's."

#wip wednesday #tag game #to catch a hedgehog au #sonic #sonadow

[not-so-rosyyy]

We have to consider that after getting back together after that traumatic separation and spending every day together for months during the NWH shoot that 3 month separation must have been extremely hard. Look how delirious Tom got after only a few weeks apart earlier this month. So their reunion in June must have been explosive. Also Z didn't have much time off since she was working on Euphoria, so they had to make every second count. So they were more careless. Zs interview with British Vogue the day of the pics shows that they didn't have any intention to reveal that they were dating and would just continue to date without acknowledging their relationship. You know that without those pap pics, the usual suspects would say "a man and a woman can go on vacation as friends, and just friends. Look at Kate Winslet and Leo DiCaprio! Plus Tom still has the pics of his real gf on Instagram! Respect Tom's relationship delusional tomdayas!" (you can see that I've been around for a long time and seen all the anti shit).

I mean, yeah, the raging hormones played a huge part in the pap pics lol. but I don't agree with your read that they had "no intention of revealing they were dating". him running around in LA and going to Euphoria set all the time that June; them going to that July 4 weekend getaway and the wedding (that was both obviously pre-planned)? they didn't care whether they were seen together or what people think of that. it was so very unlike 1.0 where they actively tried to hide the relationship.

so, my guess is that when THE reunion talk happened, it was stipulated that they wouldn't be keeping it so secret anymore. they wouldn't be out there announcing it themselves, but should people catch them, it's no big deal because they've made peace with it being public someday.

[toomuchracket]

no cause like imagine-

you and charli do a photoshoot (for a magazine like NME or even just for yourself for funzies, if she isn’t famous like a model or a singer or something) like properly dolled up, looking really gorgeous. i’m seeing like lana del rey, angel vibes, innocent, all white lace and pearls and red lipstick. they tell the boyfriends to bring phone chargers or something to the shoot venue, not telling them they are getting pictures then they walk in and their jaws hit the floor.

ugh actually heavenly.

so you mean... my dream aesthetic????

in the birthday partyverse, matty's girly is a writer, so it's plausible that she and charli are collaborating on a cross-form project (maybe, speaking of lana del rey, they're writing a short film featuring charli's music like lana did with tropico) that warrants a magazine interview and photoshoot. if not, maybe they've actually both, as culturally recognised hot girls, been asked to be brand ambassadors for savage x fenty or some other celeb clothing line/collection and because they're so close and comfortable with each other they're doing a shoot together for it. either way, it's proper high glamour, but soft and sweet - lace and pearls and diamonds, glowing skin and long eyelashes with red or pinky-nude lips, hair in soft waves, long nails, high heels, clothes all fairly skimpy and white or off-white or the palest pink... just so dreamy! and maybe this is one of your first shoots, by far the most glam, and it's charli who takes it upon herself to get the boyfriends in to see what's happening - you guys were meant to be meeting for dinner after it anyway, so she just gets george to pick matty up on the way and convinces them to come in slightly earlier than the finish time under the guise of needing a charger, like you said. and obviously george is like "holy fucking shit" when he sees charli (as i hope he reacts to her every day of his life), but he's seen her be so glam before, whereas matty has NEVER seen you look like that. not that he doesn't find you beautiful all the time, but there's a confidence radiating from you in front of the camera that makes his knees go weak, and he literally stands there in a total trance looking at you, seriously debating whether or not to propose marriage to you then and there, until charli pinches his arm and knocks him out of it. and then you come over all happy to see him and go "i quite like this look, what about you?" and matty just kind of wordlessly gestures to the outfit and goes "do you... do you get to keep that?" and you smirk and go "well, it's custom-made, so yeah" and he honestly has to sit down immediately lol <3

#mads muses #mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #into the birthday partyverse

[yunhsuanhuang]

You Look So Good In Blue | Y.H. Huang

Inspired by Child Ballad 16.

When a teenage fling mutates into something vast and terrifying, two seventeen year olds at a certain mid-tier college in Singapore make a desperate plan to control their future, earn their parents' love (or at least respect), and get the hell out of this school for good.

i. the daughter

It's whispered in the kitchen, it's whispered in the hall

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair,

The king's daughter goes with child, among ladies all

And she'll never go down to the broom anymore.

It's whispered by the ladies one unto the other,

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair,

“The king's daughter goes with child unto her own brother–

And they'll never go down to the broom anymore.”

Sheath and Knife, Maddy Prior

-

/r/sgacads

is st cecilia rly a pregnancy school?? [o levels]

/u/anxiousorange

hiii sorry for the 29583th school admissions post today lol but i just got my o level results back and they’re pretty ok ^_^ so i was thinking of going to st cecilia junior college since it’s near my house but the more i hear about it the more i want to reconsider… like apparently the people are very party type which is not really my thing?? and ofc everyones heard about how its got the highest pregnancy rate in sg o_0

is this true? or just say say one

comments (8)

/u/academicweapon

As a SCian it’s not true LOL none of us get bitches

/u/theatrekidaf

skill issue

/u/sharpsdisposal

we’re too busy failing physics :/

/u/zombiegrave

q: how many scians does it take to change a lightbulb?

a: none. they like it better darker 

/u/aw_bass34

Q: What’s the only test SC girls can pass?

A: Pregnancy test :P

/u/gregorythomas91 [s]

Damn old rumour, probably from 1990s, 2000s around there. But it’s not really unfounded. Especially with what happened in 2008.

/u/anxiousorange

what happened? im scared lol

/u/gregorythomas91 [s]

You haven’t heard meh? It was a big deal back then, I'm shocked they've covered it up that well. Let me try and remember. 

-

You never told me what really happened over those few blistering months in 2008, but I guess I wasn’t alone in that. Even when the newspapers shoved a mic in your face, even when you were being grilled by the lawyers, even when you were standing on that trap door, waiting for the drop– what really happened was a secret you’d bring to the grave.

So it’s all inference and extrapolation and linear correlation– sue me. How else am I going to make sense of that moment? How else do I come to terms with why you did what you did? Could I have known? Could I have stopped it? Was I even, when it came down to it, your friend– or was I just somebody who let you copy his lecture notes?

I don’t know. What I do know is this:

It was some mid-week mid-afternoon, indistinguishable from any other. The bell had just rung, and the whitewashed corridors were packed with sweaty kids rushing to PE, squeezing past those dragging their feet from class to class. We were part of the latter group, squinting against the September sun as we ambled across the quadrangle to home class. Above us, the school motto loomed in oversized light-blue letters: Remember you are in the presence of God. 

I was mentally calculating how long the Malay stall queue would be when you said, casual as always, “Eh, pass me your market failure notes later, can? I’m yellow-slipping after GP.”

I raised an eyebrow. You weren’t a stranger to leaving school early, but you’d been doing it more and more often lately, and at this point I hadn’t seen you stay for Shooting in ages. As your club captain, I was supposed to be concerned. As a friend– well, I was intrigued. Of course I’d heard the rumours, passed from homeroom to homeroom, Friendster account to Friendster account. Who in St Cecilia’s hadn’t?  “Is this related to whatever you and Camilla Wong have going on?” 

“Cam’s not my girlfriend,” you said, after a brief, completely unsuspicious pause.

I snorted. “She doesn’t let anyone in this school call her that but you, dumbass. ”

You ducked your head down to hide a smile, your dress-code fringe falling into your eyes. It was a strangely endearing habit. “Fine lah. We’re– seeing each other.” Then you continued, hurriedly, “But don’t let anyone else know, OK?”

“Fine, I'll write you off CCA for today. But don’t make it a habit, ar? Hold pen, not hold hand.” Despite myself, I grinned. Sure, the two of you made an unlikely couple. Wong was an ex-Convent girl and student councillor, all relentless energy and long hair tied so high it was prone to hit people when she spun, while the only time I’d ever seen you really alive was behind the barrel of an air pistol. Back then, I thought it was cute. Opposites attract– wasn’t that the backbone of any drama worth its salt?

I wouldn’t realise, until later, that despite how different the two of you appeared, at the core of it you were the same– pale and skinny and drowning in your school uniform, searching for exits the moment you stepped into a room. Always, always halfway out the door: of your school, of your body, of the life you knew.

But back then it was just a September afternoon, and we were only seventeen. You smiled back at me, all cheer, like you saw something I didn’t, like you saw something I never would.

-

In the end, though, this isn’t my story. This is yours. So let’s tell it your way.

-

The newly minted 1T26 trickled slowly from assembly into the classroom, chopeing the best desks and nervously rotating between the same few ice-breakers: orientation, secondary schools, O-Level points. As you entered, you cast a glance over the sea of blue pinafores and green pants. Still reeling from the sheer increase in the female population, you took a desk at the back, between the ancient, peeling noticeboard and the window looking out on the covered tennis courts. You were tall enough to see over all the heads, anyway.

Soon, your home tutor arrived, a round-faced lady toting an oversized Cath Kidston duffle bag, and wrote her name on the board in neat block letters: Mdm Alvares. The class stood to greet her, chairs scraping hurriedly against the linoleum. She beamed back, her smile all teeth, and was busy setting up the visualiser when the door slammed open.

The class spun in their seats. “Sorry,” the intruder sheepishly said, leaning against the doorframe. Some of her hair had fallen half-out of her high ponytail, her pinafore already wrinkled at the hem. A dusting of freckles covered her pink cheeks. 

Mdm Alvares squinted at the girl, then the laminated name list. “And you are?”

“Camilla Wong.”

Mdm Alvares looked out over the class, scanning the rows, and her eyes landed on an empty seat in the corner whose sole occupant was your beat-up Jansport. Realising where this was going, you sighed, putting your bag on the floor.

Camilla smiled, made her way in–

and put her bag down at another empty seat, half a class away.

–

There was nothing in this world you hated more than 4PM Maths lectures. That day the aircon was actually working, which you would normally have been grateful for, except for the fact that that sharp, recycled wind was blasting directly at the very back rows of LT5, right onto your face.

You were trying so hard to 1) figure out plane vectors and 2) stop yourself from getting hypothermia that you wouldn't be able to recall, later, the exact moment that Camilla fell asleep on your shoulder.

When you realised this, you froze. Oh, you thought, and didn't know what else to think. On one hand, it would’ve been so easy to wake her. Just a poke from your pen, and she would’ve jolted up almost instantly. On the other hand, though, her long eyebrows brushed against her freckled cheeks, and her chest rose and fell in these small, slight motions, and–

Before, you had only ever seen her as a baby-blue blur in the corners of your sight, always in motion even in the earliest of classes. But Camilla, asleep, tucked in the crevice between your shoulder and neck–it felt fragile, thrumming, tense. Like something made of glass, nestled gently in your hand, that it would only have taken a squeeze to splinter.

The next twenty-two minutes were the longest twenty-two minutes of your entire life so far. Even so, when the bell rang and Camilla pulled herself upright, you found yourself missing it already.

– 

After that, it was like a switch had been flipped in your brain. It was only then that you began to really Notice Camilla, capital N, italics. You noticed her with her head bowed in mass, noticed her shoving fishball noodles into her mouth at lunch, noticed her arguing with your classmates over technicalities in GP. But you noticed her the most in Monday zeriod house meetings, when the artificial grass glimmered with dew and the syrupy dawn light made the whole world seem like a Hollywood coming-of-age movie. You watched her toss her braids over her shoulder, wipe the pearls of sweat off her flushed face. Her red, red shirt rode up as she stretched, revealing a sliver of pale flesh above the waistband of her shorts–

It took until then for her to notice you Noticing. Her eyes flickered over to you, she winked, and blew a kiss. 

You felt as if you’d walked out onto the PIE and been hit by a truck. It was a wonder every single smoke alarm in the school didn’t go off right that moment–a cacophony of ringing like firecrackers all strung up, exploding pop-pop-pop from the foyer to the science block to the hostel. It swallowed every other sound, every other thought. Then she turned away, a grin still lingering on the corners of her lips.

–

During one of your lunch breaks, Camilla pulled you out of class. She had to ask you something about your PW survey, she said. As far as you were aware, you weren't in the same PW group. You knew this. She knew this. The entirety of 1T26 knew this, too, so you headed down to one of the wooden picnic tables underneath Block D, the one tucked beneath the staircase next to St Pat’s room. Both of you hovered awkwardly around the bench for a moment, doing the calculations in your head–how close to sit? What to say? You shifted from foot to foot.

All of a sudden, Camilla slammed her hand down on the table. You jumped. “Walao eh. I legit can’t do this anymore. Is this a Thing? Are we having a Thing?”

You swallowed, eyes darting.

“Make up your mind, sia.” She rolled her eyes, laughing under her breath. “St. Francis boys, I swear.”

“No, wait, yes–” The words spilled, embarrassingly and pitifully, out of your mouth. You feared you were not beating the all-boys’ school stereotypes that day. “I mean, I did, but, um–” Just stop, your brain chanted. What're you saying? You're only making it worse. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. Kill yourself.

“So that’s a yes,” Camilla said, and surged forward to shut you up herself.

–

The next thing you knew, you were stumbling into the stairwell together, the door banging noisily shut behind you. “Why–” Camilla started, and you said, “Nobody ever uses Staircase 6. Now come on.” You pushed her up against the curved concrete wall, not caring that the low ceiling scraped against your head. There was that wild, exhilarated look on her face again, like she still couldn’t believe that she was actually doing this. Beautiful, even in the dull grey light. Her nails dug crescents into your skin. 

The air was all heat, sweat, too much cherry blossom perfume. You worked at your tie–quicker than you’d ever been able to in all your years of schooling–as she undid the buttons on her uniform shirt, revealing the freckles that dusted her pale shoulders like so many stars. As you unbuckled her bra in one quick motion, she gasped, then giggled. “Damn, Yeoh. You’re good at this. Is there anyone you haven’t told me about?” 

In between kisses, you came up for air. You could've made a joke about not having many opportunities to practise in St Francis, but the real truth was that your desperation shocked even yourself– this wasn’t the careful boy that your pastors, parents, teachers, knew. Your heart threatened to burst from your chest like the bullet from a gun. For the first time in sixteen years, it felt– really felt– like you were fully alive.

“Just you, Cam.” You dipped back down. “Only you.”

ii. the yew tree

He's ta'en his sister down to his father's deer park

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

With his yew-tree bow and arrow slung fast across his back

And they’ll never go down to the broom anymore.

You made close acquaintances with every dark corner of the school. When June came, you merely shifted your meeting points closer to home– behind heartland malls in Tampines or in the nooks and crannies of Cam’s sprawling landed estate along Cluny Road. Neither of you were sure, yet, if you were doing it Right– things like bubble tea dates, strolls in Botanics, or mugging in NLB (god, you should have been mugging, mid-years were in a week and neither of you had cracked a book). But if it wasn’t capital R Right, why did it feel like it was? You thought you had developed a case of myopia–Cam in focus, everything else blurred.

All that to say: the holidays were closer to ending than beginning when you and Cam found yourselves in an overgrown grassy patch tucked somewhere in between a storm drain and the wrought-iron back gate of some minister’s landed property. It had sounded a lot more romantic in theory, but the cloudless sky was the same powder-blue as your school uniforms, and the sun beat down like it had a personal vendetta against you. There was nothing much for shade except for a single banana tree, which you lay crumpled under, sweat-sheened and reddened. The last of the endorphins were beginning to wear off.

Cam’s ringtone cut through the air, a chiptune rendition of some Green Day song.  She sighed, then propped herself up on one elbow as she picked up her phone. Her hair was loose, cascading down her back like smooth dark water. You fought the urge to run your hands through it.

“Ba!” she chirped. The cheer didn’t show on her face. “Ba, of course I'm still at the library.  I’m with Lucia. Yes, Ba, I’m sure. Don’t call her, can?” She flinched as though she’d been slapped– a familiar, instinctual tic. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll study hard, I promise. Byebye.” 

She hung up and sighed, leaning backwards. “I think I’ll need to go soon.”

“Soon,” you promised. You were lying flat on the warm grass, arms crossed over your chest like you were about to be lowered into the grave. 

“Soon,” Cam repeated. “Fuck, I hate that we have to sneak around like this, sia. I keep thinking that he’s going to jump out at me from any corner, that any random passerby can tell I’m not where I’m supposed to be. It’s like this whole island has eyes, and maybe it does.” As she lay back down beside you on the grass, her oversized t-shirt–Camp Veritas Counsellor 2007–drooped down to reveal the blades of her shoulder, the ones you’d kissed just moments ago. Her voice lowered. “You know ah, the moment we get our A-Levels back, I’m getting out of this city. Australia, London, LA, anywhere. There’s nothing here for me.”

“No leh.” She can’t say that, you thought, pettily, awfully. She had a mansion and a scholarship and a real iPhone. She had the freedom to just leave. To go somewhere without worrying about the money. You had– what? Parents on the edge of divorce and a bankrupt family business? So much for inheritance. So much for a glorious kingdom. Then you had banished the thought from your head. “You have me.”

“I guess I do.” There was a pause. Then she asked, quick and soft and desperate: “Hey, if I asked you to do something, you’d do it, right?”

You reached over, squeezing Cam’s hand tight in yours. The leaves of the banana tree shivered. “I’d do anything for you,” you told her, and it was true. It was really true.

–

Your grades wobbled, then declined, then plummeted, and you found, to your surprise, that you couldn’t care less. You’d made a lot of bad decisions in your life. Try as you might, you couldn’t count Cam among them.

This, then, might have been why you were lying on your bedroom floor, squinting at your Nokia at four AM on a Monday morning. An empty can rolled lazily from your hand, on an epic journey across the glossy faux-marble floor. The house, for once, was still. Even your parents’ screams had petered off about an hour ago. The silver light from the HDB corridor fell through your windows in slits, providing just enough light for you to see the tiny phone screen. With the phone’s small buttons and your clumsy fingers, it took a long time for you to dial the number, but none at all for her to pick up. 

“Cam,” you whispered, “Want to see you.”

“Jesus, Yeoh, it’s a school night.” Her voice was gorgeous like this, low and blurred. She only ever used this voice with you: when her raw-bitten lips were pressed against your chest, your ear, your– You shifted. It didn’t help. 

“Cam, Cam, Camilla.” Her name rolled off your tongue like a litany, sharp and needy. “Can talk a while or not?”

“Are you drunk again?” she teased you. On the other end, her sheets rustled as she sat up.  Although you hadn’t ever been in her house before, you could reconstruct it well enough from the blurry webcam pictures she’d sent you: piles of assessment books, porcelain cross, ceiling fan. And she– beautiful, beautiful, feet kicked up against her headboard, black hair spilling over the flowery sheets, the smile evident in her voice. “Help lah. How–”

“Miss you,” you murmured, by way of an answer.

“I miss you too.” 

“Want to meet you. Want to talk to you.” Then, because you were three cans of beer deep and loved making (aforementioned) bad decisions, you charged on: “You and I, we never talk.”

“I know we haven’t met in a while. It’s not my fault I was sick–” Her voice wavered a little, then bounced back to its chirpy cadence. “But we talk all the time, though. We literally talked in class yesterday. I’m talking to you now.” Cam laughed. Her laugh still sounded to you like the first day of the month– every church across the island breaking into bellsong, light and birdlike in the hot blue air. It was cliché, you knew. You didn’t care. Perhaps you were in too deep to care.

“No,” you insisted, but you didn’t really know what you were saying, or why you were saying it at all. “We don’t.”

“We don’t,” she said, then fell silent.

The funny thing about the two of you was this: Over the past few months, you had seen each other stripped bare, worn to the bone with want, more times than you could count. But the both of you knew, all right, that there were things that you couldn’t– that you didn’t say. Things that were secret even to yourselves. The scars on your forearm, the bruises on hers, the way she looked at you when she thought your mind was elsewhere. Those three words, weightier than any false promise you’d whispered against each other’s skin.

“Staircase. Tomorrow. I need to tell you something.”

–

That night, you dreamt of flying.

You weren’t a bird, weren’t yourself– just bodiless, incorporeal, sweeping through the hallways of the college like a ghost. You phased through the auditorium doors to see the loose ceiling tile, the one that had been hanging over your heads like a guillotine all term, topple to the ground in one fantastic crash, sending students fleeing out the doors and into the foyer. You fled with them, but the ceiling fan in the foyer was spinning just a bit too hard, just a bit too fast, and the students screeched to a halt just in time to catch it falling, an angel with clipped wings. It broke in two over the staircase railing, knocking down the tables and the notice boards, pulling down the ceiling with it. Then the chapel was the next to go, the shattering stained glass catching the light in a thousand colours. As you raced up the corridors, the destruction raced up, up, up, alongside you, past the staff room and canteen to the lecture halls, the classroom blocks, the PAC, every single building in the college folding in on itself like so much wet paper. Block J detached itself cleanly from its precarious perch, tipping head-over-heels into the field. You couldn't hear a thing, but you could imagine what it sounded like: the earth itself breaking, rapture the other way around. 

Then you crossed the lower quadrangle, where two little blobs of baby blue lay pressed against each other’s bodies. Even without descending, you already knew who they were. It was strange to watch yourself like a movie. When you were younger, you'd thought that this was how God saw the world, top-down, like a player peering at a chessboard. When you’d failed an exam for the first time, you'd cowered under a table-cloth to escape His wrath. You’d stopped believing in a lot of things as you grew up, but you could never kick that instinct to flee, that inescapable, intrinsic fear that the presence of God really was everywhere: under a table, in a school, in every splitting cell.

The boy on the ground turned his face towards the girl, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. She smiled infuriatingly, endearingly, back at him.

The school came down on them.

–

Most of the morning was taken up by this awful college event that you’d totally forgotten was happening, all cheering and sweat and thirty-eight degree heat. It was only when the day was coming to a close, then, that Cam and you could sneak away past the computer labs and guitar room into Staircase 6. As you entered, Cam pulled out something from the pocket of her sweater–an admin key–and latched the door behind her with a deliberate click. You blinked. “How’d you get that?” 

Cam didn’t say anything, just tucked the key in the pocket of her oversized school hoodie. There was something strange and tense about her, stranger and tenser than she had been all term. She walked up to Level 4, where the sky through the grilled window cut long slices of light onto the concrete floor, and sat down on the top step. You sat down next to her. 

She breathed, imperceptibly, in and out, looking straight ahead. The question rushed out in a gasp.

“You told me you’d do anything for me, right? I need you to kill.”

iii. the arrow

And when he has heard her give a loud cry,

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

A silver arrow from his bow he suddenly let fly.

And she’ll never go down to the broom anymore.

-

WONG CHIEN PING 

The New Paper, 1998

WONG: To me, family– family always comes first. My kids always come first. You know ah, I’ve got five children. Four boys, one girl. 

INTERVIEWER: Wow.

WONG: [Laughter.] Can be a handful at times, lah, but what can you do? As I was saying, right, when I look at my kids, I’m thinking about everything they could be. Lawyers, doctors, maybe even MPs like me. [Laughter.] And I think about how Singapore’ll change in ten years, fifty years, a hundred years. My youngest, Camilla, she’s going to graduate from university in the 2010’s. In a new century. What’s Singapore going to look like then?

INTERVIEWER: Mhm. 

WONG: I want to make Singapore a place where my kids can grow up safely. Where they can have a future. 

-

For a moment, all you could do was laugh. Then you stopped, of course, but the echo lingered. “Cam?”

Without meeting your eyes, she lifted up her sweater. The first thing you’d thought was that she’d forgotten to bring her house shirt– she was still in uniform. Then you realised that her shirt was unbuttoned at the bottom, and her skirt was unlatched, and there was a solid, unmistakable, swell to her stomach.

The world tilted on its axis. There was no way this was happening. This was a really terrible prank. She’d stolen a prosthetic from Drama. It had to be something, something other than this, something other than a child– You made an inelegant noise, some spluttered form of protest. “Oh.” 

“Oh,” Cam agreed, unhappily.

You instinctively reached out to touch her bump, like you’d seen in the soapy Mediacorp dramas Ma always watched. You didn’t feel anything. Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of parental instinct singing to you; love, love, love all through the water and the flesh and the blood? 

“Didn’t you listen in Bio? You can’t feel the heartbeat yet. Not for a while, but not for long, either,” she said. “Not until I can’t hide it anymore.”

“Oh.” You didn't know what else to say. You pulled her into your arms, and she pressed herself against you, body against body. Like stragglers hiding from the cold, except it was thirty-five degrees outside, the air the same dull dead warmth that school air always was. She turned her face away, but you could still see her eyes go glossy, hear her take those shallow breaths. "I'm so sorry."

You couldn't begin to imagine what she was feeling, how much she'd lost in that instant when she knew she was carrying a life that wasn't hers: the scholarship, the law school, the clear American sky she'd never see. The future rushed out before you, a landscape vast and desolate, and you found yourself unable to picture it except for your mother's face, crumpling in on itself, her world imploded in a single moment. Thinking: all you had to do was study hard. We gave everything for you, pinned every hope on you, and this is what we get? Saying: stupid boy. Stupid, stupid boy.

You don’t know how you say what you say next, but you do. “So. You want to- to kill it?” It, it, it. Still an it. 

Cam laughs wetly. “Almost there. Kill–” the pronoun trips off her tongue–  “me.”

-

ST CECILIA’S JUNIOR COLLEGE

CAMERA 235

12:28:03

YEOH shoots to his feet. WONG does too.

YEOH: You can’t just say that–

WONG: Just shut up for a moment and let me explain, can?

YEOH shuts up.

WONG [with a wince]: Sorry. But you know my father lah. You know how he is. He’ll have my head.

YEOH: What’s the worst he can do ah? Pack you off to some boarding school overseas?

WONG takes a sharp breath.

WONG: It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that he’s worked his whole life for this position. If he ever finds out what we’ve done, his career jialat liao, just like that. Every single day for the rest of my life he’ll look at me and only see a disappointment of a daughter, a stain on the family name. I snuck around and I lied to his face and I bribed my friends for alibis but at least for seventeen years he didn’t know better. He called me his princess, his golden girl, and he meant it. Now all of that’s gone. Or will be gone, I guess. I don’t know how I’d live without that.

YEOH: He doesn’t need to know. You understand that, right? There are ways to get rid of it, I mean, there has to be some way–

WONG: That’s the fucking problem!

WONG turns away, stifling a sob.

WONG: Before I formed you in the womb I knew you–

YEOH [instinctively]: And before you were born I consecrated you. 

WONG: This is our child, Yeoh. This is a human life. 

YEOH: Better any other life than yours.

A long pause. 

WONG [overlapping]: You can’t mean that.

YEOH [overlapping]: I can. I do.

YEOH ascends one step. YEOH stares at WONG as if he’s daring her to say something, until WONG begins to cry. YEOH freezes for a split-second. He reaches for WONG, whispers something inaudible in her ear. WONG reaches up and kisses him in response. After a while, WONG extricates herself with an expression that seems almost like a smile. She walks over to the railing and leans against it. YEOH follows her.

WONG: I’ve always told myself I want to be a good person, but maybe the real truth is that I didn’t want my dad to figure out otherwise. Maybe all of that hiding was for nothing. Maybe it was only a matter of time before he found out who I really was, deep down: rotten. Impure. That woman Jezebel, who calls herself a prophetess. 

WONG: And, sure, I can sneak away to a clinic, God knows we can afford it, I can do whatever it is girls do in movies with the clothes hanger or the back alley. But if my life after this is all an act– what’s the point, if I already know where I’m going when I go? I’m tired of keeping secrets, trying so hard to keep this part of my life from him– when one day I’ll slip again, I know it, and the whole house of cards is going to come crashing down. If I die now, all my sins are going to die with me. He’d be happy, and I’d be loved, and you– 

WONG [almost envious]: You’d never understand.

YEOH tilts his head downwards, fringe falling over his eyes. He starts to say something, then stops.

YEOH: I do understand.

-

Like so many other people you knew, you never meant to go to St Cecilia’s. Everyone said you could make Temasek, maybe Victoria. Tampines at the very least. And you'd believed it, too, until you didn't anymore, until the college you were going to became the least of your worries. 

When did you stop believing you’d ever have a future? It wasn’t a single moment so much as it was a series of them: stepping over the yellow line when waiting for the train, trying to find footholds in the railing of every overhead bridge, your eyes always flicking to every exit you could take. The words you said under your breath in prayers weren’t Our Father who art in heaven but a litany only you knew: I don’t have to do this. I don’t have to keep going. I can leave any time I want. For as long as you remembered, you’d already been halfway gone. 

It was a comforting hypothetical, until it wasn’t, and suddenly you found yourself on the bathroom floor at three in the morning, a week before prelims. The cool white light bounced off the tiles, the mirror-cabinet above the sink hung ajar like it was beckoning you, and you were so, so exhausted. Why were you trying so hard? What were you even studying for? No matter what college you went to, the future would always be blurry and grey. Test after test after test, then onto– what, exactly? You’d never been able to imagine yourself past sixteen. You’d never be able to imagine yourself more than half-alive.

You’d tell the psychiatrist later that you didn’t remember the rest of the night, but that wasn’t true. You remembered the pills. You remembered the blinding, fluorescent pain– and through the pain, your father’s face, your mother’s voice. 911 on the cordless telephone. The ambulance. Changi Hospital. When you’d finally woken, there was a split-second where all you could see was white, and all that came to you was a rush of relief– until the white coalesced into white walls and white sheets and a ceiling spotted with air-conditioning vents, and you could almost laugh at yourself for expecting anything different. If you’d succeeded, anyway, it wouldn’t have been white.

So you failed both at dying and at Chemistry. That was fine. You took the two points off for affiliation.  You took the 5AM bus. You took the desk at the corner of 1T26. That was fine too.  You swore you didn't care about any of it, and you didn’t, you didn’t. Then Cam happened, and suddenly you did.

But you couldn’t shake the memory of that night in the hospital, your parents whispering next to your bed when they thought you were asleep. For once in their life, they weren’t at each other's throats. What’s wrong with him?  your father demanded in Chinese, betrayal running like cracks through his voice. I don’t understand why he would do this to me. In response, your mother only sighed. Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid boy.

-

The story came uneasily to you, like writing an exam for a subject that you hadn’t touched in months. Once you were done, Cam turned to you. If it was anyone else, they would’ve said something benign, something untrue, like, I’m sorry or I’m glad you didn’t die. Instead, because this was the Cam you’d always known, she asked, “How much did it hurt?”

You thought about the answer for a long while. Then you said, “If you do it right, only for a moment.”

She laughed, then, throwing her head back with the force of it. For a brief, blasphemous second, you’d never seen anyone so beautiful: fair as the moon, clear as the sun, terrible as an army all set in battle array. It was the kind of beauty wars were fought over, the kind any man would get on his knees for– to be knighted, to adore. And she’d chosen you (you of all people!) The fact made you dizzy with its weight.

“So.” Her voice brought you back to reality. It was casual as anything, like she was discussing essay outlines or Physics solutions instead of– whatever this was. “I was thinking about the stairs, right? If you pushed me, hard enough, it’d look like an accident…”

Below you, the concrete staircase looped in on itself, down, down, down. Tall, yes, but only three stories, not enough to kill. Not if you wanted to be sure. When you told her as much, she frowned, swearing in Chinese under her breath. The two of you bounced around a few more ideas, but none of them seemed to stick. You fell silent, tapping out meaningless rhythms on the rails, as you considered what you’d been dancing around since she’d asked you to kill. A competition-grade air pistol, a shot at just the right angle– it’d be, well, if not easy, at least simple. Less up to the fates. 

There was only one problem with that plan– it’d no longer be an accident. There’d be police, lawyers, fuck, maybe even journalists. Your juniors would whisper about it for camps and camps to come. You couldn’t feign innocence with a shotgun, couldn’t frame the act of pulling the trigger as anything but what it was.  

So, fine, they’d hate you. They’d shred all your certificates, put your photos face-down, pretend they’d never had a son. So what? Boy hung from his bedroom fan, boy hung from the prison beam. Whatever formula you used, the result was still the same: you’d be gone, and they’d be free. Besides, there wasn’t any way St. Cecilia's reputation could possibly be worse than it already was.

“I think–” you started, suddenly, “I might have a solution.”

iv. the grave

And he has dug a grave both long and deep,

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

He has buried his sister with their babe all at her feet.

And they’ll never go down to the broom anymore.

INTERVIEWER: You didn’t notice the keys were gone meh? I thought you were the captain.

THOMAS: The captain doesn’t carry the keys, sir. Um, he was the armourer, sir, he’s always had them. Since the beginning of the year. 

INTERVIEWER: So you weren’t aware that Yeoh and Wong entered the armoury at 12.39 PM and retrieved a [pages ruffling] .25-calibre Baikal air pistol. 

THOMAS: Of course the alarm went off, lah. To notify the teacher-in-charge. But he told Miss Judith he forgot his water bottle inside, and she was in a hurry anyway–

INTERVIEWER: She believed him?

THOMAS: Miss Judith’s always had a soft spot for him, sir. And we all trusted him. That’s why we made him the armourer. Of course he was quiet, um, but in a calm, reliable sort of way. Out of all of us we thought he’d be the last person to do what he did. [laughter] I trusted him– oh god– 

INTERVIEWER: Calm down, boy.

THOMAS: Sorry, sorry.

INTERVIEWER: Can continue or not?

THOMAS: Okay. Can. Go on.

-

Laughing the loud and triumphant laugh of the already dead, you and Cam crashed back into the staircase landing like you’d done so many times before. How many giggling, short-lived couples had this place borne witness to? The seniors who’d winked and nudged you in its direction must’ve learnt it from their seniors, who’d learnt it from their seniors in turn– back and back it went, a story in two-year cycles, mutating each time it was told. A haunting, a myth, a folk song.

Cam, leaning back against the wall, ran her hands along the sleek pistol. She looked, still, beautiful: even after the run, after the tears, despite the baby. If you hadn’t seen her before, you couldn’t have guessed that she was the kind of girl who would ever cry. “It’s like I’m a spy.”

“I mean, we kind of are, right? People are going to start getting suspicious soon. We should do this quickly.”  You shot a furtive glance through the window in the door. The corridor, as always, was dark– the lightbulb had been busted for a long, long time. 

“Soon. Won’t take long, right? Just–” She aimed the gun at her temple, mimed pulling the trigger with a grin. Miss Judith had trained you well– your first instinct was one of sheer panic, of tripping over your own feet in your haste to rip it from her hands– but you didn’t do any of that. 

Instead you only swallowed, shifted. “Just like that I don’t think is strong enough. It’s not real ah. Can’t do that much damage. Um, can I–”

Downstairs, someone shouted. Cam shoved the gun in her hoodie pocket. You stopped breathing. Something clunky was being dragged across the floor, chatter following in its wake. But no one had opened the door yet, so when the clamour finally died down, Cam removed the gun from her hoodie and passed it to you. 

In your hands, the pistol was cool, familiar, deadly in a way it had never been before. It reminded you that despite any pretences to precision or skill or patience, this sport was, at its roots, a killing sport– drawing blood and blood and blood again. 

You’d only been a shooter for a few months. You'd always been a chess club kid in secondary school, and in St Cecilia, you’d even applied for Strat Games before you walked into the interview, saw an old classmate, and walked right back out.  At least shooting was a singular sport. No emotions involved, no one to fool, no one to ask you what happened.

About a week or two past orientation, you’d hit bullseye for the first time.  You didn’t notice, at first, still reeling from the ricochet, until Greg shouted and the club gathered round and you saw that tiny wound on that tiny target, fifty whole metres away. In another few weeks, it’d become routine, but you never forgot that first time: the breath held, the trigger pulled, the bullet sailing through the air. The gun like an extension of yourself.

She must’ve sensed something had shifted, because she hurried out, “If you don’t want to do this, just say, OK? If you really want, we can– I don’t know, figure something out.”

You’d do anything for me, right? 

Okay, so maybe you were helping her because you knew what it was like to be so tired that you wanted nothing more than to be gone. You knew what it was like to fail– your mother’s eyes avoiding yours, the flat stinking with shame, cut fruits slid under your door like an apology– and you knew, you knew, out of all the people in the world she didn’t deserve it.

But maybe you were helping her because you’d never known anyone who could go to their grave with a smile quite like her, brilliant and foolish and brave. It was your hand brushing hers under the desk and her laughing with her head thrown back and the two of you sharing earphones on the bus. It was the fact that in life or death, you’d never wanted anyone but her. 

So, fine. The moment you’d opened your eyes in a hospital bed, you couldn’t find it in you to care about Heaven or Hell or anything in-between, couldn’t care about a God who’d turned his back to you as you were bleeding out. But even the staunchest of atheists could admit that it was nice to believe that you’d been brought back for a reason; that more than any grade you’d ever gotten or any target you’d ever hit, the greatest achievement of your time in college– okay, your entire short and sorry life– was this: to love her, to kill her, to be loved, impossibly, in return.

You kissed her like it was an answer. Maybe it was. You’d never know.

–

Just like you’d predicted, it wasn’t easy, but it was at least simple:

The muzzle dimpling her button-down shirt. Her heart beneath the gun, frantic and wild. Her smile– smug, inscrutable, like she was getting away with some great and treacherous heist, like she’d stolen something you’d never notice missing until it was too late. Coloured-in Converse perched on the edge of the top step.

A moment to aim. Less to fire.

A crack. A body arching backwards, falling, falling, falling. A body against concrete. A body with its neck all wrong– no, that wasn’t right. Two bodies. One body. But what was the difference, really?

Somewhere, someone was singing.

–

I got tired of waiting

Wonderin' if you were ever comin' around

There was a boy at the edge of the canteen, that isolated corner where the cafe used to be before it went bankrupt and left neon-yellow wreckage in its wake. I could just barely make him out through the other kids who’d swarmed like moths around the speakers we’d looted from the grandstand, a do-it-yourself rave all our own. We were seventeen and free from Promos and knew every word to every song on the radio and there was nothing in this world to worry about, nothing at all.

My faith in you was fading

When I met you on the outskirts of town

My voice faltered as I tried to peer over the heads, earning myself a poke in the ribs from Joshua from 28. The boy was tall, in uniform–on the one day we were allowed to wear house shirts? He’d be sweltering hot. He stared off at something I couldn’t see, collapsing on a bench– and the moment I saw the fringe, I knew who you were.

“Xavier!” 

I painfully extracted myself from the knot of students, making my way over to you. You didn’t seem to notice me, didn’t seem to care. There was something red on your face, probably some failed attempt at Go SC! It seemed like the sports leaders had gotten to you. Funny. I’d never thought you were the type. 

You turned to me. 

“Xavier?”

I broke into a run.

I keep waiting for you, but you never come

Your hands were shaking, your eyes wet.  There was red on your shirt, red on the corner of your lips. Shit, there was so much of it. “Are you hurt?” My brain was going at thirty miles a second. “What happened? Did you– are you–”

“I’m fine. I just–” You broke off. Slowly and carefully, like you were explaining something to a very small child, you forced out two more words: “--lost something.” 

I cast desperate glances around the canteen. There was something wrong here, something I couldn’t even begin to comprehend, like standing on the edge of a cliff with a sea below you. “It’s OK, bro,” I muttered out, stupidly, awkwardly, “You’ll get it back, whatever it is. Um. You need me check with the GO? Call teacher?”

Through the thin walls, a scream rang out. The singing died a quick, violent death, but the music, still, played on.

I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress

“No,” you said. “No need.”

It's a love story, baby, just say yes.

-

After everything– after the police, after the trial, after the drop– Wong’s father swept in and gave half of St Cecilia’s a dizzyingly long contract that boiled down to Don’t tell a soul this happened or I’ll kill you myself. Of course I’d signed it. What else could I have done?

In the years to come, I’d want to tell you about so many things: The times we’d instinctively turn in our seats to ask you about homework or classes or anything at all. The two empty desks we’d dodged for the rest of the year, even after we switched classrooms, even after they struck out your names from the class list— as if long before that October afternoon, you were already gone. The shiny, upgraded surveillance system, a threat, an eulogy, as much acknowledgement as they’d ever give you. 

Now, though, I want to tell you about the staircase.

When I stepped back into St Cecilia’s for the first time in ten years, so much of it remained the same. The same old coat of paint, the same wobbly tables, the same starched blue uniform. The only thing that’s changed is the kids– how young they seem now, how they call me Mr Thomas when I’m listening and ‘cher when they think I’m not. In the spaces between classes, when the halls are full of chatter, I’ll overhear snippets of their conversation: I’m yellowslipping for Taylor tickets or Walao, my stats really CMI, like this how can pass or Wah, are you going to take her to Staircase 6? That last one’ll be invariably followed by a wink, a nudge, and loud, boisterous laughter, the kind that only teenage boys can summon up. I can’t blame them much for it. Weren’t we once seventeen too?

The staircase isn’t particularly hard to avoid. For the kids, it’s more of a novelty than anything– a quick selfie at the door during Orientation, then it’s out of their minds for the rest of the year, too far from the classrooms to be of any use. Soon enough, though, exam season rolled around, and I was on my first night study shift of the year. I didn’t have to do much– just make sure nobody escaped the well-lit confines of the library, which was just as crowded and chilly as I’d remembered it. But the campus seemed different after dusk, every flickering light a blinking eye, and I felt myself being led down the concrete corridors, past the office and the hall and the lockers, past the bulb they’d never fixed, and I unlocked the door.

It looked, obviously, like any other staircase in the school. The floor was grey, the walls white. I went up to the top floor and to the railing, the security camera swivelling as I walked. Over the railing, the stairs went down, down, down. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t find any part of it that suggested your presence. No pale figure, no blur of light. I felt, suddenly, foolish– what answer was I seeking? Even if you’d lingered, even if you’d somehow escaped where I’d most feared you were, this was the last place you’d want to stay. 

Maybe I would never really understand why you did what you did. But I’d known you, even still, and so I could say this with certainty– if there was any justice in this world, you weren’t here. You were somewhere edgy kids couldn’t gawk and giggle at you, somewhere the camera couldn’t find you. Somewhere only you knew.

An engine growled beyond the gates. Sweet and heavy in the air, the scent of flowers lingered. 

I closed my eyes.

-

And when he has come to his father’s own hall, 

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

There was music and dancing, there were minstrels and all.

And he’ll never go down to the broom anymore.

O the ladies, they asked him, “What makes you in such pain?”

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

“I’ve lost a sheath and knife I will never find again

And I’ll never go down to the broom anymore.”

“All the ships of your father’s a-sailing on the sea

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

Can bring as good a sheath and knife unto thee.”

But they’ll never go down to the broom anymore.

“All the ships of my father’s a-sailing on the sea

The broom blooms bonny, the broom blooms fair

Can never ever bring such a sheath and knife to me

For we’ll never go down to the broom anymore.”

#child ballads #singlit #songs from saint cecilia's #writing

[bonefall]

Hi! I just saw the saltlick post! While the really common use of saltlicks is for livestock, they are also placed in forest areas that hunters have access to in order to draw deer to that area. It’s possible that the farmer located near Windclan could have once owned the forest Thunderclan lives on and used it for hunting, putting up saltlicks in the area, before later selling that plot to the treecut place in TNP. I could imagine this still being a salt source even after they move to the lake territories. A small patrol could be sent out with a container of some sort to just scratch off whatever amount they would need for brine

Not sure if there are and UK hunting laws that butt heads with this idea but I’m a strong supporter of your “cats should cook” idea lol

It's not very likely. The "Deer Stalking" (they don't call it hunting for some reason? england wyd) laws that would conflict with hunting in the area is that it's a popular hiking trail; hunting there would be a massive hazard to people walking their dogs as well as the sawmill workers who work by tallpines.

That aside I went and read The Deer Act of 1991 and I couldn't get any conclusive answers on if salt baiting was banned or not, so it's probably allowed, but when I dove a little deeper into hunting culture in the UK I wasn't able to find anything on baiting at all.

I did find, though, that hunters in the UK like to hunt by moorland, and the Deer Act of 1991 doesn't apply to problem deer that are eating crops provided you can produce evidence that the species of deer you're shooting has been what's causing problems... but in that case, salt baiting might be illegal because then you'd be attracting them to the property.

The law is also a lot stricter on the native deer species, reds and roes, than the invasive Chinese Water Deer and muntjac.

So anyway the most likely deer hunting is done on the border of WindClan and ThunderClan, and salt baits are unlikely... and that's depending on whose permission the hunters need to not be arrested for poaching; it's likely the White Hart Wood is owned by the Chelford Council or the operators of the Chelford Mill. The Windover Moor is probably owned by the owners of the Windover Farm.

I have never gone "deer stalking" in England so I'm not sure what that mess looks like legally LMAO

Stealing Salt From Livestock

[ID: Two sheep licking a red salt block]

Some people suggested this too, but the problem is that the Forest Clan cats try not to steal when possible. When they do, they try to lift plants. Wheat, crops, catmint from gardens, stuff that won't be missed. ShadowClan also scavenges from the Carrionplace, where twolegs don't care if something goes missing.

WindClan actually tries to "pay farmers back" when they have to swipe wheat for tunnelbuns in hard years, by catching and leaving some rats and crows.

If SkyClan was at the Forest territories they'd be ALL over this. They'd hook a rope through that block, tie to to the biggest warrior they have, and tell Thickbutt to HAUL ASS before the farmer saw them. Then they'd smash the block into fine, fine grain.

Salt Access: BloodClan Trade Expansion

But as-is, the only salt the Forest Clans can access on their own is the natural salt in the roots of certain plants, and they could lick the Thunderpath in winter if they really wanted.

You know who does have salt though? BloodClan. LOTS of it. Road salt in Winter, discarded salt shakers, unguarded restaurants full of bags of salt... They wouldn't even understand why the Forest Clans want it so badly and be shocked when they learned that salt isn't just naturally occurring.

SO, there could be a brief period after TPB where the Clans trade with BloodClan, suddenly have easy access to salt, and find out what it's like to NOT have fleas for the first time in their lives. They'd think it must be why stars are white, they've never seen anything that could smite bugs the way salt does.

#My version of SkyClan is the objectively correct version of SkyClan btw #I love those little monkey thieves #Clan Culture Mini Entry #Salt #Warrior Cats #They become so distinct if they're the Clan that steals things and is less afraid of humans than the other four #Love em #ShadowClan is also a bit more okay with stealing than the other Clans #But SkyClan takes the cake #BloodClan