#the numbers are unimaginable tbh

[geooooooorge]

Visited the italian redipuglia war memorial today where 100k soldiers killed during the first world war are buried and it was so striking i had to share. First things first, this this is massive - there are 22 stairs and each is 2m tall and 12m long, which makes the whole memorial huge. Its also build towards the sky, towards god with the three crosses symbolising Calvary. What i find most moving tho, is the story behind 'PRESENTE' written on every step, repeatingly: presente was a word of confirmation when an officer was calling his soldiers after the battle, to see if everyone was there. However, when one of them died, the officer called his name and the whole battalion kneeled and said 'presente' in his name.

#this thing is huge #and like really makes you think about how theres a HUNDRED THOUSAND people buried here #the numbers are unimaginable tbh #and then the whole story with presente almost made me cry what the fuck #sorry‚ my history nerd side jumped out #will definitely happen again #come back tomorrow for more fun facts<3 #italy #anja's random

[bakugoushotwife]

blessing and curse

summary: yuuji is a wonderful boyfriend...you just wish he was able to fuck you... warnings: post shibuya, aged up duh, yuuji struggles with ptsd, night terrors, as well as anxiety, you both see therapists, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, fem!reader, pet names, (pretty girl, baby, cutie, etc), rough sex. wc: 3k a/n: this is my first yuuji piece nom nom nom i'm actually obsessed and soaking wet tbh i'm thinking thoughts for yuuji.........anyway to my lovely requester i hope you enjoy this <;3 jjk masterlist here

yuuji feels things very intensely. it’s a blessing and a curse, though the latter is more often experienced than the former. guilt, loss, regret–all things that nearly swallowed him whole while he fought for his friends and the people of japan–for the whole world. it’s so hard to be him, to live with what he carries on his shoulders–on his soul. he’s unloveable. he’s the one who caused all of the pain—things would have been easier if he died. there’s a number of people whose lives ended because of and for him. he was only just adjacent to a murderer. months after the fighting ceased and the war was won, he would wake up numerous times through the night with night terrors. he couldn’t even call them nightmares because they weren’t fabrications of his imagination. they were all too real memories that kept making their rounds–reminding him that he would be forever burdened with a layer of hell no one else could claim to know about. 

he met you in the waiting room of his therapist’s office. he remembers seeing you and wondering what you could be talking to his specialist about. it meant you also had to be a sorcerer—clearly he couldn’t see a normal one about his specific traumas and baggage, and apparently neither could you. he remembers not even knowing you and his heart still hurting for the pretty young girl that must be hurting like him. he remembers hoping that you hadn’t been through anything like what he had—the anxious voice in the back of his mind wondering if somehow he caused your pain via sukuna’s rampages or the destruction and death that followed him. he remembers you meeting his eyes on a seemingly unremarkable thursday afternoon, catching him in the middle of one of his staring way too long episodes. you narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at him in amusement. 

the rest was easy. you were easy to talk to, to admire, to hold, to love. you made him feel intense things in a good way–in a way he had nearly given up on. his world had slowly become a mixed palette of blacks and whites and muted grays–but your smile brought color back. your touch made vivid purples and yellows; your laughter the brightest of pinks and the most warm oranges. you became the blessing where he was the curse, the savior of a damned man bound to paint on smiles and pretend that sacrificing his soul and everyone he’s ever loved was worth it. now he felt unimaginable comfort and love by getting to know you. his smiles weren’t so fake anymore—and the only things that woke him in the night was losing you. truly the only fear that yuuji itadori has left: cursing his blessing. 

you thought he was the best boyfriend around and an even better man. you’ve slowly but surely unraveled the reason he was visiting the therapist through his eventual opening up to you and telling you just a fraction of what he’s experienced in his life and you can understand his intimacy issues. see…yuuji is easy to love. he’s wonderful, attentive, sweet, careful, strong and chivalrous. but he won’t fuck you. you’re too nervous to push him any further—all too aware of his fears of letting anyone in, of loving and showing that in ways that make you vulnerable. he’s all too conscious of what it would mean—of the danger he would be putting you in.

there’s been many times here lately that you’ve thought that line will finally be crossed—heavy petting and make-outs that get you squirming in his lap and soaking through your panties. it always goes this way, no matter how innocent the two of you try to keep your dates. move night, game night, even cooking together ends up with yuuji’s tongue down your throat and his hands under your shirt. tonight is no different, some youtube video plays in the background—a forgotten video game walkthrough that yuuji had been paying careful attention to until you leaned in to rip it away with those teasing kisses to his jaw. you know exactly what buttons to press after four months of nothing past second base driving you to a point of restlessness. 

you just wanted him to see your perseverance. you would do this for as long as it takes, anything to prove that you’re here to stay. you want to make him comfortable enough to tear those walls down—the ones that make his eyes flutter shut and his hands fist at his pants in order to keep them to himself. his eyes close to will himself to concentrate on something–anything—other than the feeling of your warm lips tracing his pulse, smooth fingers sliding under his shirt to outline the dips and muscles of his torso. it’s not that he doesn’t want to this, he craves you like nothing ever before. your touch is the medicine bringing him back to life, but he can’t allow himself to ruin you—taint you. but as you move into his lap and change your kisses to more intense nips and sucks at his skin, his body betrays his mind. he can feel the blood rush to his cock as your thighs trap him beneath you, and he moans out at the same time you do. the pressure of your clothed cunt sitting against his needy dick has his hands moving before he can tell himself to stop. he grabs your waist, accidentally and automatically rutting up against the friction you offer with a hiss. 

“fuck, cutie.” he groans, your lips covering his parted and pouty ones to keep him from protesting further. his fingers only dig into your side as the two sides of his mind argue with each other. he wants you badly, your body slotted against his perfectly and the way you kiss him like you’re trying to touch his soul drives him crazy. anyone with a girlfriend as hot as you would be a fucking idiot to keep denying himself of her. his hands knead the warm flesh of your body as an instinct, his body knowingly responding to your advances. his tongue slides over yours in a frenzy, his head becoming fuzzy as saliva trails down his chin—something in him telling him to stop when his hands slide upwards to palm your chest. you cry out at the feeling—so starved for his affection that you know you’re soaking wet already. just his rough hands scraping over your sensitive nipples sends you into rutting rhythmic circles of your hips over the tent in his pants, breaking your sloppy kiss in order to remove your shirt fully in a silent show of what you wanted to happen next. 

“aw baby—you know i can’t,” he whines, his lips swollen and even pinker than usual. he drops his hold to your hips, making comforting circles over the bone beneath his grasp. your face drops to instant heartbreak and he can feel his own heart try to rip itself apart for making you so sad. he never thought about how this must affect you, a woman with needs and desires for her boyfriend. he knows this can’t last much longer or he’ll lose you anyway. the room is just a mixture of your heavy breathing and the monotone droning of the tv for a few moments, and then you whine in retaliation, picking up his hand and moving it back to your breast. you search his eyes, seeing the fear flickering in those brown embers of his. you just need to show him there’s nothing to be scared of, that you need him worse than you need the oxygen in this room and would do anything for him today and forever. 

“yuuji,” you gasp out in such a voice that he knows he won’t be able to hold back this time. four months of seeing your body in your cute date outfits and in his shirt after you’ve spent the night; the feeling of your curves under his fingers as he guides you to the safe side of the sidewalk or the swell of your hip as he guides you through the door he’s just opened—four months of draining his balls after he’s sent you home with nothing more than a few wet kisses and tit-squeezes. the way your eyes shine like you’re about to cry if he denies you one last time…it’s too much. “please—i need you,” you breathe out, reaching those gorgeously soft hands out to sweep against his cheeks, to plead with him to be a good boyfriend. he can’t make you suffer any longer—”i need you so bad yuuji, please don’t push me away…i’m your forever girl!” 

oh fuck. he might cum in his pants from hearing that alone. suddenly, silence falls upon his mind. he can only hear the echoes of your cries for him–no more voices in his head arguing about the best way to continue, only you. a guttural groan rips from his throat and he stands with your legs wrapped around his body, a broad hand snaking up your back to keep you pressed against him. you squeal a little at the sudden shift and the deep growl that he let out, his face now devoid of that playful man you’ve come to love. he looks so focused, so serious, his brow furrowed as he looks over your face. 

“i’m sorry i made you wait so long, pretty girl.” he nods, letting your body bounce on the bed as he’s set on immediately removing the remainder of your clothes. he pulls you to the edge, legs dangling over the sides. you almost think it must be too good to be true, sitting up on your elbows to catch a glimpse of that ravenous fire consuming his previously kind eyes. he’s leaned back to peel his own clothes off, but his eyes never leave your body. he looks over your lip pinched between your teeth to your pebbled nipples to the glistening slick coating your inner thighs. he doesn’t even know where to start, but he’s going to ensure that you’re finally taken care of. “i’m a dumbass—thought i was keeping you safer like that.” he mutters, leaning over to kiss the space between your ribcage. he makes his way to your jaw, licking a hungry stripe between your breasts and claiming your neck with bruising nips at the delicate flesh that greeted him. 

you’re set to mewling immediately, the flip switched in your boyfriend making you rub your legs together in anticipation. he chuckles and you can feel him smile against your skin as his hand snakes down to keep you from squirming. he quickly pecks your lips. “m gonna make it up to you now, baby girl.” his eyes are wide, but glazed over with affection. you nod, feeling his strong fingers dig into the supple flesh of your thigh to keep you from closing them, his abs raking over your sensitive clit as he lowers himself to his knees at the foot of the bed. your face burns as you realize what he’s going to do, but he doesn’t give you time to think about it before turning your mind to mush from the feeling of his fat tongue splitting your lips apart and breaching your tiny hole. he seems pleased by the way you react—back arching off the bed and hands gripping at the sheets from the surprising burn. it’s a good burn, the kind you’ve been craving for the months you’ve been with a man who loves you like he does, your wanton moans just cementing that his choice was the right one. he’s growing addicted to this already; your flavor on his tongue, your moans echoing in his ears and your thighs pressing in to the sides of his face. he feels your silky walls clamp down on his tongue, making his eyes roll back at the thought of putting his dick in something so tight. he slurps at the arousal slipping out, sliding his tongue to the hardened bud waiting at the top of your cunt. he wraps his tongue around your clit, making you jolt at the sudden increase in sensation. it’s amazing—goosebumps prickle out over your skin and you reach down to tug at the silky pink locks woven between your fingers. you can feel every nerve running through your body and how it builds with a fiery pleasure that you know only yuuji can give you. “oh my god—yuuji!” you cry out as that pleasure mounts to a tipping point. his teeth scrape against your hood to encourage you to fall over that line so he can see what he’s been denying you of for four achingly long months. 

you make the sweetest face when you cum, it has him closing a fist around his own dick to calm himself—the promise of having your pussy making him jerk at his own touch. you even sound so pretty as you shatter, legs jerking and your grip on his hair yanking almost painfully hard. it only makes yuuji smile wider, feeling a bubbly sense of satisfaction ripple in his own gut from making you feel so good. 

“nngh, yuuji–” you whine, your vision returning to normal after a few seconds of respite. he’s already pushing you back to the pillows, manhandling you into the bent position he wanted. you’re on your back, knees by your ears and a boyfriend giving you no time to be anxious about the angry and leaky horsecock sliding through your folds. you thought he was a sweet man, and maybe he still is–but his own excitement to have you has him forgetting his normal chivalrous behavior. “fuck–yuuji!” you claw at his biceps, fighting against that true splitting burn. his tongue was nothing compared to the girth he pierces you with—and he’s smiling so tenderly at your wiggling and struggling. 

“s’okay, cutie. you can take it, you’re already taking it!! didn’t you ask me to?” he raises a brow, face flashing with mock-confusion as your hands shove at his chest, all in an effort to get used to the feeling of him inside you. his thumb brushes your cheek, his other hand keeping the back of your thigh shoved back. “nyeh—you begged me! come on pretty girl–you gotta loosen up!” he laughs airily, moving the hand from your face back down to pinch and roll your aching clit. you jump at first, the touch sending another jolt of pleasure circulating to your brain–and then you relax enough for him to move. he’s got you folded in such a way that you can hardly breathe–or maybe that’s from how he slams into you recklessly, tip catching on your poor, innocent, cervix each time. it hurts, it burns everywhere—but it’s the best feeling in the world. his breathing grows ragged once he settled into a pace, brutally slamming into you in a way that led you to believe he wasn’t doing this on accident. 

soon, your hands around his biceps slip to your sides, eyes lulling into a pleasure-induced haze. you watch him, the twitch of his nose and the way his hair gets curly once it sticks to his forehead from his sweat. he’s perfect, and he’s finally giving you all of himself, really devoting himself to you, conquering any fear. you don’t mind if you’ll be bedridden for the next week—feeling his heavy cock in your chest from how hard he ruts into you—it would be well worth it to hear his grunts and whimpers of satisfaction, to feel the bruising grip he has on your body like he’s afraid you might disappear. it’s all so good, and exactly like you craved. “there she goes—takin’ it like a champ now!” he cheers you on, panting a little as he leans over your body and grabs the headboard, deepening his angle as if he wasn’t already fucking you brainless. 

the new angle makes your jaw drop in absolute earth-shattering bliss. you two could be the only people left on earth and you would never know—to consumed in yuuji itadori to notice anything else. you’re back to pawing at his chest, the coil in your gut building rapidly as he fucks into you like his life depends on it. you wanted everything, he’ll make sure he gives you everything. the headboard creaks, the bed moans with you and you truly do worry he might break it for a split second–but his broken moan of your name swallows up any wandering thoughts. a bead of sweat slides down the slope of his nose before it drops onto your cheek, the evidence of his hardwork. he moans your name again, warning you that the end was approaching. you nod as he moves your legs to his shoulders, leaning as close as possible to wrap you in his arms and kiss you in short, desperate bursts. he treasures you more than he thought possible, that look you give him right before your eyes roll back into your head from your orgasm makes his own dick jump within your vice-grip of a cunt. you make that sweet face again, a face he knows he’s hooked on—your pussy spasming around him to welcome his fat load gets him to make his own kind of special and beautiful face, lip between his teeth and adam’s apple bobbing at the same pace his balls slap into your backside. you swear you can feel his heart beating, his lungs filling and emptying as he flattens his chest to yours and fills your guts with his loving cum. he keeps thrusting even after he’s done, just watching your face contort and shift, your body bouncing in his arms. he likes the ache of overstimluation, and loves the way you mewl and hug him, eyes all sleepy and far away. 

“that’s it, you did it, so so good.” he praises in a soft tone, kissing your lips and then your nose and then your forehead with equal adoration. “can’t believe i kept us from feeling like that!” he shakes his head, kissing your cheeks to continue showering you in his love if not to keep you awake. he sits back up and slides out of you, quickly snatching his t-shirt up to catch the spillage. it’s hot, watching his seed trickle from your abused pussy—he whines a little at the sight, puppy dog eyes flickering over your body as if to wonder if you could take another round…

now that you’ve gotten him to start, you may never get him to stop.

#kyleewritesjjk #jjk x reader #yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji #yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori #yuji x reader #yuuji smut #itadori x reader #jjk yuji x reader #yuuji x fem!reader

[margowritesthings]

THE MEANING OF THE SCAR

a RDR2 x Black Badge crossover

pairing: N/A for this chapter, will eventually be Arthur Morgan x reader word count: 2650 words warnings: spoilers for RDR2 ending, violence, Micah Bell, explicit language, major character death and subsequent resurrection, brief mentions of domestic violence YOU DONT NEED TO HAVE READ THE BLACK BADGE TO UNDERSTAND THIS SERIES, EVERYTHING IS EXPLAINED DURING THE STORY authors note: What's that, you say? You want a RDR x Black Badge crossover?? No??? WELL IM DOIN IT ANYWAY

The series that no one asked for tbh. If you haven't heard of the Black Badge, it's a wonderful series of books by Rhett C Bruno and Jamie Castle, where the audiobooks are narrated by Roger Clarke. This series puts Arthur in the shoes of the protagonist, who is doomed to hunt the supernatural to pay off his karmic debts. The prologue explains it a little better, so sit back and enjoy! There will be romance, there will be monsters, what more could you ask for?

BLACK BADGE ORIGNAL SERIES

PROLOGUE

I have seen so many incredible things. 

Living on the land for as long as I have, you tend to. I’ve camped under the most breathtaking sunrises, that big orange orb scattering unimaginable colours over our poor souls as it creeps over the horizon. I've seen nature at its finest: baby deer learning to walk, wolves running together in tight packs not unlike us outlaws, even saw a little chick hatching once. Beautiful women from all around batting their long lashes at me, not even all of them because I was a prospective customer. I’ve been a lucky man, to have experienced so many sights.

Never did I think that the last thing I saw living on this Earth would be Micah Bell’s goddamn ugly mug.

The barrel of his gun was shaking in his tight grip, and I used the absolute last of my strength to keep my head up and look right down it. 

“You’re not better than me, Morgan.”

Never claimed to be, but if I had more time, I might have argued it, the rat. But that was the thing… I didn’t have more time. I could tell, the simple act of breathing was becoming just too much. I might have gotten a few more days, if Micah hadn’t just knocked the seven bells of shit out of me and the last few days had been a little calmer, but such is life. Such is death, I should say. 

After a wheezed cough was pushed out of me, I still managed to get one last jab in, as laboured and choked out as it was, 

“Whatever you say, you fool.”

Everything hurt, and I could hear the clock ticking my final seconds out as Micah’s finger trembled on the trigger. He was mad, I could see the fury spreading across his face as he registered what I was choosing to do with my final words. 

Maybe it was supposed to be the time for prayers, the time to have my life flash before my eyes while I count my regrets and mourn the things that will never happen, but there’d been enough of that ever since that doc told me my days were numbered. I hadn’t lived a good life, I wasn’t a good man, but I got some peace knowing my final hours were spent getting Marston and his family out safe, making sure Milton didn’t, and insulting the gang’s little pet rodent. If I had any regrets in that moment, they would only be that I didn’t manage any more permanent damage to Micah’s ugly ass mug before he got me. Actually, I might’ve wanted to die at dawn, to see one last sunrise, but mostly the Micah thing. 

“Damn you…” he spat, the glow of the moon casting the most horrendous shadows from his twisted expression. 

“Damn us both!” 

And that was it. 

A shot,

and it was all over. 

No sunrise, no grand redemption in the last few minutes of my damned life…

Just me, the moon, and goddamned Micah Bell. 

═══════☆═══════

I never expected I’d get into Heaven, but I never thought it’d be so goddamn dark down here in Hell.

I stirred as if waking up from a fitful sleep filled with nightmares involving Micah shooting me in the face, and even though my eyelids flew open, there was no light to speak of. There was a crushing weight on my chest, and a burning behind my right eye. What felt like dirt fell into my face with each little movement, and suddenly it all fit together, forming a terrifying reality of my predicament. 

It wasn’t a dream. Micah fuckin’ Bell had shot me. Tuberculosis ran ragged through my veins and filled my lungs, I’d been captured, hung in an O’Driscoll camp and tortured for information, hell, I’d been shipped off to goddamn Guarma with nothing but the shirt of my back… and in the end the sorry sight to end my story was a rat with a revolver. 

The dirt fell in my eyes relentlessly, so much so I had to close them again. It wasn’t like they were being much use anyway, what with me being buried alive and all. Moving my limbs was hard, but not impossible, I found, giving me hope that I wasn’t too far down in the ground. I never thought I’d hope for a shallow grave, but then again I couldn’t have predicted waking up in one either. None of it made much sense, but I reckoned it’d probably be best if I got back out into open air before figuring out why I couldn’t feel my toes, why breathing felt so strange and unnecessary, or how I’d survived a gunshot to the head. 

I started with small movements, flexing my numbed fingers in and out until there was enough room to ball them into fists. I would have shouted for help, if I could, but I knew all I’ll get from it is a mouthful of dirt. I’d have to do this alone, it would seem. 

The movement spread from fists to arms, the dirt starting to mould around me until it didn’t feel so crushing anymore, and I was soon clawing upwards. I dared to squint one eye open, finding small holes of light poked through the blanket of nothingness like stars. I felt triumphant when I reached upwards into open air, but it was short lived when I failed to feel the wind or the breeze or the sun or anything to let me know this wasn’t all some death dream. 

I pressed on, scraping at the skies until big patches of the Earth fell apart around my body and I could pull myself out of my grave. The sun beat so brightly that I couldn’t help but continue to squint, trying to make out my surroundings. It was dawn, ironically. I always assumed Hell’s skies would hold a lot more fire in them, but the blue hues and yellow rays were anything but hellish. They were beautiful, a sight I was sure I’d never see again. 

After my eyes adjusted, I made out the tombstone standing above my grave, a handcrafted wooden cross with my name scratched into the centre. Folk aren’t usually lucky enough (or unlucky enough, I hadn’t yet decided) to see their own graves, and yet here I was. Why? Was this truly Hell, looking over the sunrise while I was damned to sit by my own grave and wait for no-one to mourn me? 

‘Blessed Are Those Who Mourn, For They Will Be Comforted’

It was my epitaph, carved into the circle surrounding my name. I hoped it was true. I didn’t know how long I’d been buried, but I didn’t want anyone sitting around crying over me. I hoped I’d done enough, in those last few hours, and that the ones I loved, whoever was left of them, anyway, made it out okay. 

I pushed myself up out of the grave, dusting off the mud that clung to me and standing straight despite the complaints of my aching back. I looked over the hill, over what looked an awful lot like Ambarino. 

“Beautiful, ain’t it? I tell you, that friend of yours picked a good spot. Shame you’ll get no rest here.” 

I froze, my spine straightening on instinct as the voice behind me confirmed that I was in fact in Hell. Even after looking Death in the face and calling him a fool, it still took me a moment to turn and face my father. 

I expected anger to course through my veins, for my fists to ball and fury to burn over my skin the first time I saw him after all these years, but it didn’t. I looked my Daddy straight in his cold, dead eyes, and nodded to him. He did the same.

“Pa?” 

“Fraid so.” 

I was almost too dumbfounded to realise what he was sitting on. Who he was sitting on, I should say. Boadicea stood as tall and as beautiful as that last day we spent together in Blackwater. The sight could have taken my breath away, if I had any. 

I wanted to step closer, to pat my girl on the neck and feel to make sure she was really there, but I wasn’t ready to move just yet. 

“What… What the hells goin’ on?” 

Daddy dearest chuckled, probably at my ironic choice of wording, and Boadicea stomped a foot on the ground. Despite everything, all I wanted to do was to get Lyle Morgan off my horse, but there’d be time for it. 

“You’re dead, son. Nasty shot to the head, though you put up a good fight.” He said it like he was recounting the most mundane story ever told, not breaking the news that his only son had died. I considered his words, finding a strange peace with them all.

“...This Hell?” It had to be, right? There’s no other way he could be here, not with the way he treated me and Ma. I dreaded to think what Boadicea could have done to deserve an afterlife with him, but it made more sense than both of us fools being let into the pearly gates upstairs everyone always goes on about. 

Pa chuckled again, clearly finding my demise much more casual news than I, “To some, but not in the way you’re thinkin’ of it. I’ve got some bad news, boy.” 

“Worse than my death?” It was annoying me, how elusive and blasé he was being about everything, dragging this out for longer than he needed while holding the cards right up close to his chest. He knew what was going on, and yet there he was, sitting on Boadicea like he owned whatever goddamn realm we were in. Surely this was Hell, having this conversation with the man who beat me into who I am today. Who I was, before karma caught up with me and shot me in the face. 

“Depends on how much you were lookin’ forward to it.”

My teeth ground together as the frustration at his evasiveness built. He must’ve sensed it, as he dismounted Boadicea and patted her on the neck.  It threw me more than it should, watching the man I’d left long behind me interacting with my beloved Boa. 

He stood just as tall as the day I watched him hang, the only difference being a nasty scar that wound around his neck and made me dread to think what I might look like. It was like looking at a ghost. Well, I guess I was looking at a ghost. 

“You’re still here, Arthur. On Earth. Seems you did just enough good there in the end that they didn’t know what to do with you. Too bad to make it to the upstairs, too good to burn in Hell… for now.”

“Earth? But… I’m… we’re-“

“Dead? Yeah. But you’re stuck here, doin’ their bidding.” 

He was running his fingers over Boadicea’s mane, and she shook her head in response. She seemed like she wanted his hands off her as much as I did, but I had to find out what was going on first. 

“Bidding? Who’s bidding? Can you just be straight with me for one damn minute-“

“Patience, boy.” He snapped, bringing out one of Boadicea’s signature annoyed huffs, “The White Throne’s bidding. You’re theirs now. You do as they say, or you end up in a far worse position than you’re in now.”

I felt like I needed to sit down, but unless I was going to climb back in that grave, there was nowhere to rest. 

“I… I don’t understand.”

Lyle sighed, turning fully towards me and hooking his thumbs in his belt loops.

“The White Throne have chosen you to be a Black Badge, Arthur. You’re not alive, nor are you fully dead. You work for them until they decide they’re done with you, and then…” 

“And then?”

“Well… I ain’t sure, truth be told, boy. I never got as far as you, I’m just here to pass the message on.”

None of it made any sense, and I had no idea who this White Throne was. Dad didn’t seem to have the answers, nor did he seem inclined to give them to me even if he did. It was then I noticed that my heart should be pounding out of my chest. Instead, it felt hollow, the anxiety of my situation bouncing around an empty can of nothing. 

So this was really happening…

“They’ll call on you when they need you with this,” he turned, rummaging through Boadicea’s saddle bag and handing me a journal. It looked exactly like the one I gave to Marston just before I died, the one I collected my thoughts and sketches in, only when I flicked through the pages, they were all blank. 

“Keep an eye on it, it’ll tell you what you need to do, who to look for, or where to go.”

“What am I, a goddamn undead bounty hunter?” 

He laughed, a proper hearty laugh that would’ve made my skin crawl had I not been so occupied with the confusion of it all. 

“You could say that. But you’re not just after anyone, they’ll send you off to the supernatural stuff. Vampires, werewolves, demons, that sort. You’ll get the hang of it.”

I was so stuck on the whole supernatural thing that I hardly noticed him step towards me, slapping a hand onto my shoulder. I froze, but not because my father had touched me for the first time in decades, but because I couldn’t feel a damn thing.

He must’ve seen the shock on my face, cause his brows pulled together in a pitiful look, “Ah, yeah… there’s some side effects to death, son. But I’m sure you’ll figure that one out.” 

‘Side effects’ was a light way of putting it. I’d later find out that we unlucky few in the Black Badge have a fair few impediments. I can’t feel. Not the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, the touch of another, not even the burn of a good whiskey. I don’t feel pain, which can be helpful at times I guess. I can’t taste anything, either. It’s a unique punishment, to be stuck walking the earth but not really living, having no access to those simple pleasures in life like a stiff drink or the touch of a pretty lady. If I’d have known what was waiting for me at the end of all this, well… maybe I’d have made some different choices. 

“It’s a lot to take in, I know.” 

I glanced to my shoulder, finding Dad’s hand still there. He must’ve sensed my discomfort, removing his touch- or lack thereof- from me. 

“You’ll get the hang of it, son.” 

If I weren’t so preoccupied with my new lot in life (or death, I should say), now would have been the perfect time to confront the man who stood beside me. Ask him why he did what he did, get some answers for every question my teenage self tortured himself with while he wandered the streets for somewhere to stay for the night. But when I turned, he was gone, without a single trace to suggest he was ever there in the first place. Seems I’d gotten all the information out of him I was entitled to. 

That left me and Boadicea, standing beside an empty grave I wasn’t sure anyone would have visited anyway. 

I sighed, finally stepping towards her and patting her neck in that spot she always loved. 

“Well girl, guess this is it for a while…” 

I looked down to the journal in my hand, just in time to see inky black writing appear on the page as if bleeding through the realms.

‘Welcome to the Black Badge, Arthur Morgan.’

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redepmtion 2 #black badge #roger clarke #tmots

[lenievi]

Now, I’m probably going to show how bad I am at interpreting and understanding scenes but...

(I’m not adding “I think” or “imho” everywhere because that’s a given. It’s just my understanding of this scene~)

McCoy does have a certain understanding of Vulcans, but he doesn’t understand everything (a note: Kirk didn’t believe Spock either)

SPOCK: I sensed it die. MCCOY: But I thought you had to be in physical contact with a subject before SPOCK: Doctor, even I, a half-Vulcan, could hear the death scream of four hundred Vulcan minds crying out over the distance between us. MCCOY: Not even a Vulcan could feel a starship die.

Vulcan telepathy is a mystery - humans don’t know what it can do, what Vulcans are capable of. McCoy, at this point, operates on what he knows - Vulcans need to be in a physical contact (it’s not true, but that’s the truth he knows).

SPOCK: Call it a deep understanding of the way things happen to Vulcans, but I know not a person, not even the computers on board the Intrepid, knew what was killing them or would have understood it had they known. MCCOY: But four hundred Vulcans?

McCoy has a high opinion of Vulcans, actually. It’s unimaginable to him that a ship full of Spocks, would be unable to understand something. That four hundreds Vulcans would all die. (this episode is kind of about the superiority of Vulcans tbh)

But Spock misunderstands what he was saying. The number wasn’t the point McCoy was trying to make, for him it was the fact that it was four hundred “Vulcans”.

SPOCK: I've noticed that about your people, Doctor. You find it easier to understand the death of one than the death of a million.

But Spock latches on the number, and his grief makes him say some pretty “quotable lines” tbh. And they serve as a commentary for the humanity (a commentary that is still true and will probably always be true).

Also, at this point in the series, Spock’s/Vulcan “it’s better to kill one person to save a hundred” philosophy was already perfectly established, so it’s also interesting to see this line here in the context of the show (and even the films). McCoy was never willing to understand “the death of the one”.

You speak about the objective hardness of the Vulcan heart, yet how little room there seems to be in yours.

I understand that this line could be read as directed at McCoy specifically, but considering the previous lines and McCoy’s response, I believe it’s still meant to mean all humans. Humans care when someone in front of them or someone close to them dies, when it’s far away, when they’re strangers “how little room there seem to be in their hearts”. High numbers are just statistics.

So you have a contrast between Vulcans valuing “the life of many” and humans valuing “the life of one”. (Making this only about McCoy is imho really simplistic but what do I know. Ofc it’s done through one Vulcan and one human, but they serve as a mirror to the bigger picture.)

MCCOY: Suffer the death of thy neighbour, eh, Spock? You wouldn't wish that on us, would you? SPOCK: It might have rendered your history a bit less bloody.

I guess I’m just not a fan of people interpreting this scene as antagonism (and worse) between Spock and McCoy*... when it’s just clashing of two different world views... they know each other, but they don’t understand each other. It’s not just McCoy who doesn’t understand Spock, it’s also Spock who doesn’t understand McCoy. And both are occasionally able to use words that cut the other one deeply.

* but I don’t see anything in the show as antagonism between them. I just don’t. I don’t see them as enemies or rivals, I wouldn’t even use the word frenemies. It’s just not that.

#tos nonsense #leonard mccoy #spock #the post doesn't want to show up in the tags so i'm just gonna repost it (if it still doesn't show then i guess maybe it's not meant to lol) #but look a new post and it isn't about jim #so sorry to the two of you who already liked it... it doesn't seem like it wants to show up in the tags now either...

[star-kindled]

I hate complaining about a ftp game, but I gotta say. The fest genes are just… they feel lackluster. They’re boring. They’re unimaginative.

They could have turned dragons into geodes, or given them crystal growths, or stone plate armour, or any number of things.

instead we have floating copypasted rocks.

I know that genes are a lot of work to make but come on guys. It’s two breeds. I’d prefer ONE breed with a truly creative gene, tbh.

#flight rising #small rant #rockbreaker's ceremony

[dazy-chained]

hm. i need to actually talk about things in real life but maybe it'll help if first i make a framework for thinking about things that i will realize is unworkable and discard within the month. so like as far as fantasies and adjacent things go, let's break those down into a few categories.

things that i would like to do and could do irl to within reasonable tolerances. this is honestly where i have the most difficulty and ambiguity bc a. the definition engages with the limitations of actual reality which are less analytically knowable than the limitations of my desire and b. for anything that's not actually part of my current sexual practices i have to figure out and admit to myself why it isn't, which i have a hard time doing. the clear members of this category are mostly pretty basic sex acts tbh with some moderate power dynamics and masochism or whatever, the farther reaches shade into like "I'd try this once i guess but idk whether I'd like it"

things that are enjoyable fantasies but i can't feasibly do irl. this ranges from normal and concrete sex acts involving having a pussy to the sort of all-encompassing ecstasy that only really exists in fiction to the Odysseus and the Sirens thing.

things that i wouldn't enjoy even as a fantasy but find compelling in a way that's at least adjacent to sexuality. The last days of Christ, nail me to your cross and break me bleed me beat me kill me take me now before I change my mind; a factory designed by a lover to inflict unimaginably agonizing tortures upon me; my mind tearing to shreds as i gaze upon an incomprehensible god.

anyway i guess the number 1 low hanging fruit is just to do more direct experimentation in my actual sexual practices to figure out what i do and don't Actually Enjoy rather than what's hypothetically fun. unfortunately that involves talking to people whose opinions i care too much about to just say "fuck you if you react poorly to this". that's a very freeing thing about online, no matter how much i like an online poster they are p much always only an online poster to me

[thrashxunreal]

i... agreed to do something stupid and unimaginable but uh... i am going to see [redacted] in boston for free and will probably end up at front of house tbh

my memoir is about to gain a ridiculous number of chapters this week i need to fucking scream

[thelreads]

tbh? I can't really vibe with the Dad For One theory. For crack fic? Sure. Canon? Idk, it just doesn't feel like it checks out with things.

If we're doing the Star Wars analogy then we already have our Luke Skywalker with a family connection to the other side of the conflict in Tomura with his connection to All might. Making Izuku directly related to Afo is just too much on top of everything else.

The most i'd being willing to accept would be Great-great-grandfather and even then the only way I can believe AFO having sexual relations with women would be if he was just a massive hoe and had zero emotional attachment(toxic or otherwise) to them. Izuku would need to have Cousins in the triple digits.

Also that leaves options to have anyone in 1a to be related to him. Like, other than the color, Izuku and Mina have similar hair texture? They're fourth cousins now!

Shoto's mom, Rei? She's got white hair and so do the Afo/OfA Bros. The relation is obvious!

Anyone with red eyes!

In my opinion the star war references fit better with Midoriya being the Luke Skywalker stand-in to All for One Darth Vader, but gonna be honest, I do like your suggestion of Hoe for One.

With this I propose a unified theory that would invalidate all possible ships between the characters because they would all canonically be cousins, descendants from All for One. This would cause an unimaginable number of plot holes and would leave everyone mad without adding anything good to the series. Thank you for listening to my Ted talk.

#inbetween #BNHAC261

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

See, running a ua is a lot of work and I know that. People take a lot of time to do so. No one is obligated to, of course, so it is a choice someone makes but I can appreciate that it takes a lot. Hld have crossed many lines and I’m sure they think they care about Louis so that would be devastating for the people behind the ua but what they were doing is taking advantage of other fans. It’s easy to say that fans don’t have to allow themselves to be taken advantage of by other fans but stan culture does encourage that kind of mindset. I don’t know, do people deserve some sort of compensation for running a ua? It’s complicated, I don’t know what would be fair, but getting people to pay for untrue reports/“unseen” pictures that would be available anyway, it just takes advantage of young and naive fans. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth

That’s a fair question - do people deserve compensation for running a UA?

Ethically, it’s a loaded question, I think.

Big fandoms like 1D become complicated when there are perceived tiers of fans with special access to secret information, like stalkers, for instance. That special treatment is already seen as “compensation” of a sort: in exchange for access, these fans can be employed by the artists’ teams to manipulate the fandom, thus changing the artist-fan relationship.

Similarly, a UA getting financial compensation becomes motivated by an incentive other than pure admiration. The insane, unimaginable numbers of followers makes the UA’s admins parasocial celebrities, even if we don’t know who they are.

It’s an addictive feeling, being “special,” having thousands respond to your actions and words.

Add in money for rumors, and it all becomes a bit like selling lies? It’s one thing to keep up with celebs, and another to profit from news that can affect their mental health, even if the news doesn’t have their consent, or is even TRUE.

Tbh I’m against the idea of fans being “famous” either. It’s the same sort of principle — personal benefit means a change in the artist-fan relationship, for the worse.

#1D used stalkers to pass info the the fandom #special ‘insider industry fan blogs’ always passed info to the fandom #and UAs admins were known to have sex with 1DHQ to get info … 💀💀🔫 #it’s not new and I’m sure the boys knew about it

[daydreamrry]

Realistically how do we think this shitstorm of a movie is gonna do in box office?? Bc im really not sure like on the one hand this pr debacle has fucked up unimaginably badly amd put a lot of ppl off 💀 but also bc there's still so much press and rumours around the film it might do pretty well in ticket sales unfortunately. Manifesting its bulldozed both financially and critically tbh🤸🏽‍♀️

if we’re talking opening week then i don’t think it’s going to reach the number that they’re hoping for especially after this week lol and for reviews, i don’t think it will get higher than a 55% on rotten tomatoes (i’m being generous) unless she pays them lmao. at the end, the main audience is now harry’s fandom and there’s only so much they can do. also avatar being released that same day is huge competition.

[maos2013]

Fic Writer Review

Ok, I could’ve sworn I was tagged by @aleksandrachaev but now the notification has disappeared? Idk what the hellsite is up to by making me think I have notifications, but I’m going to do this anyway 😂 😂 . I haven’t looked too closely at my stats and everything in a while, so this will be fun! 

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

77. But please don’t ask about the number of WIPs I have  😅

2. what’s your total AO3 word count?

208,442. Huh. I thought it would be more? Oh well!

3. how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Three. One random one shot for each ER and T100. The rest are all AoS!

Actually, wait. Since Kat says (and I agree whole heartedly!) that Black Widow is it’s own fandom, then make that 4! I wrote a one shot of an alternate end credit scene for that movie!

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos? (I’m not including the ones I have cowritten)

Everything’s Changing 372 Kudos-  Talk about a wild idea I had watching a movie from the 90s. Anywayyyy. Philinda and Philindaisy moments. Lots of fluff. (which if you know me, you know I do more angst these days.  😂)

We’ve Come a Long Way from Where We Began 265 kudos - Aww! The first thing I ever wrote! Lots of May and Daisy moments and they work t reunite their team. (But also I now refuse to read this because I can see how much my writing has improved since then, and now I get mad at previous me 😂)

A Bad *Axe* Birthday 177 Kudos- May gives Daisy an axe for her birthday, and teaches her to throw it. Because to quote Rosa Diaz from B99 “What kind of woman doesn’t have an axe?”

I Took You for Granted 150 Kudos- TBH, I’m surprised this one was this high? It’s not one of the better things I’ve written tbh. But it’s May and Daisy, in season 7, and God knows they needed more scenes together, so maybe that’s why this one is on the list.

What Did We Do To Deserve This 137 Kudos- Oooooooh. *sigh* Early season 5 Philinda feels for when I still had hope for my OTP.

5. do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Ummmm YES! You kind person took the time to leave me a comment! I will let you know my appreciation for that! No comment is too big or too small! You can literally comment a <3 and I will respond because you made my day! That said, I usually respond like once a month to all the comments that have been building up in my inbox

6. what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

*cackles* Ummmm. I have several, but I think the angstiest would be The Unimaginable. Poor May just lost everyone in this fic. 

OR! the pieces of my heart are missing you because I just kill all of my favorites.

OR! the moon and the stars are nothing without you because Philindaaaa feeeeels

I’m Lost Without Her  and Stay Alive, That Would Be Enough are runners up!

7. do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope. Not creative enough for that  😂 😂

8. have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don’t think so? Only hate for making people feel too many feels  😂 😂 😂

But to the person who once commented “Bestie I hate to break it to you but this ^ is not therapy” on one of my angst fics, please know that even though I don’t know who you are, I love you and think about this comment everyday.

9. do you write smut? if so what kind?

Yes, but not lately. And it usually has feelings involved. No plots usually, but feelings yes.

10. have you ever had a fic stolen?

I doubt I am even known enough for someone to bother  😂

11. have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that would be awesome!

12. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yeah! Lean On Me with @shadowcass! Set during season 7 of AoS- Instead of MaYo going to Afterlife, it’s May & Daisy!

13. what’s your all time favorite ship?

Philindaaaaaaa. I have way too many feels about those two. 

14. what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Anything that’s in my old laptop. I got a new computer about 6 months ago, and any of my WIPs that somehow didn’t transfer over will probably never be finished. 😔

15. what are your writing strengths?

Angst! Also fluff (if I’m in the right mood). Sometimes humor! (again, depends on the mood.)

16. what are your writing weaknesses?

Feels I think? Sometimes I just write and then I go back to read it later and the dialogue in the feels particularly cringey. Also, I have a habit of using my southern slang in random places if I’m writing while tired, so I try to double check that.  😂

17. what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Personally, I’ve only done it a couple of times, and for very short sentences or phrases because I don’t want to accidentally say something wrong and make a mess of things! I sadly only speak English with a few words of Spanish and Italian thrown in for funsies. Still waiting on a fic where I can randomly throw in a word or two in Italian.

18. what was the first fandom you wrote for?

Agents of Shield I believe! Unless you count the poorly written story I practically copied from an episode of Desperate Housewives that I was probably way too young to be watching. I wrote with gel pen on some loose leaf paper and then put into a pronged folder. I was maybe... 12? Mayyyyybe 13?

19. what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

It’s like choosing my favorite child! (Not that I have children, but I do have 4 pets and I can easily tell you who my favorite pet is. 😂)

Hands down, I think my favorite has to be It’s Only a Matter of Time. I wrote a spec fic before the AoS finale where the team splits up across time, and I sobbed so hard while writing it!

Also I really really like The Unimaginable listed above with the angsty ending!

I’m tagging @tessathetesla @samanthaswishes @herosofmarvelanddc @brutashaphilindaandsylkieohmy if you guys want to do this!

#tag games #fanfic

[transmortifried]

RANMA REWATCH EPISODE TWENTY-TWO:

(or, i thought this was ukyo's debut episode for a second and now i'm disappointed)

REASONS RANMA IS TRANS NUMBER WHATEVER: she likes pickles :)

genma saotome continues to be a slimy shitbag, who did unimaginable psychological damage to ranma in the course of raising her.

they're really riffing on what can be a martial art, this week it's takeout martial arts. and tbh i kinda love that about this show, let's get weird with it!

whoops, put a hold on that, it's time for transphobic "man in a dress" jokes! and like, i get that this show has its fair share of transphobic jokes, the whole premise is basically a transphobic joke, even if i'm choosing to re-interpret it as trans narrative instead, and even if we the audience choose to find comfort or power in it. it still fucking sucks to see them!

#ranma rewatch

[bisluthq]

Taking Adele as an example is just stupid. I'd make a humble guess that only less than 50% of you don't quite track chart that well. Her new album 30's sale is mostly depending on the physicals and vinyls which are sold in an unimaginable low price in Target,etc. In fact the stream of the album is pretty POOR considering the promo and radio payola and whatever, can you believe a brand new record has like 30000 or even lower SEA(streaming sales) a week just after a month? lol

Eh I think she did fine tbh like it was a big release especially considering she didn’t target kids who can bump up numbers. EOM is everywhere like I literally hear it everywhere and I don’t mean radio like my neighbors played it like 5 times the other day when they had their party which imo is a ~choice for a party but they clearly LOVE it. Adele is very fine.

#nat talks Adele

[unibrowzz]

Mod (finally) reviews all 67 winners of the Eurovision Song Contest Part IV: The 1980s

Ah yes, the 80s. One of my favourite decades for music overall, and one of the only decades in Eurovision where I wouldn’t immediately jump at the chance to change most of the songs that won, the other decade being the 2000s. 

But at least with the 80s there was more quality songs per year, whereas the 2000s was mostly drivel.

I also count the 80s as being somewhat of a turning point in the contest’s history, and by that I mean it always seemed to me like it was the decade where the UK really began to stop caring. Most people know the song that won in 1985, but nobody knows what won in 1986. Everyone knows Johnny Logan won twice, but couldn’t name his second song. Everyone knows Celine Dion competed, but can’t remember if she won or what she sang. 

That and countries also started experimenting with more modern sounds and outfits towards the end. The early 80s is just an extension of the 70s I swear. 

But that’s enough of all that, how do I find the winning songs?

1980- What’s Another Year?

Country: Ireland

Artist: Johnny Logan 

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the song that makes every 50something woman in the UK and Ireland all doey-eyed and rosy cheeked as they remember back to when they were a teenager watching this on TV and drooling at the lovely looking sad Irishman singing his sorrows into the microphone.  Or that’s my experience with this song anyway. Another experience is that most vintage fans I know tend to dislike this song on the grounds of it beating out [insert song here] Everyone has their favourite from 1980 since it was honestly a pretty strong year, but even though this song isn’t my first place for that year I can still clearly see why it won. See, 1980 had a lot of pop songs, so a slow, sad song like this one was bound to stand out, whether it was popular or not. Luckily for this one, it turned out to be a popular choice. Other songs wouldn’t be so lucky… Back on track though. Like I said, this is a very sad and melancholy song with sad and melancholy lyrics, which not only made it stand out in its year, but also made it stand out amongst other Eurovision songs of its time. It’s strange to think, but at this point in the contest’s history there hadn’t been a winner with lyrics so solemn and personal. See, in modern Eurovision, every other song is the artist baring their soul about their horrible ex-boyfriend, or their depression, or past abuse, or whatever, so knowing there was a period where songs like that were so rare is just… surreal to me.

Is this my personal winner for this year? This or Greece tbh, I don’t mind this one

If no, what is? Greece- Anna Vissi- “Autostop”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 23rd

1981: Making Your Mind Up

Country: United Kingdom

Artist: Bucks Fizz

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the UK winner that nobody really likes, but the BBC still forces at us anyway because they’re proud they came up with a gimmick that everybody remembers. Or maybe it’s not that well remembered, but nobody would know that because we’re reminded of it every year. This song is… alright. Just alright. The first listen of this one is always the best, because after a while it just gets kind of annoying. The singing ESPECIALLY starts to grate you for a while. Even in the studio version the two girls sound unbearably shrill and whiny, and I’m not sure if that’s their fault or the songwriter’s (since if I remember correctly only one of them was a professional singer). I’m seriously convinced there’s no way for a female vocalist to pull this off without sounding terrible.  Again, this one’s perfectly fine and serviceable, but that doesn’t mask the fact it’s still the worst UK winner and the worst winner of the 1980s too. 

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Portugal- Carlos Paião- “Playback”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 58th

1982: Ein Bißchen Frieden

Country: West Germany

Artist: Nicole

Language: German (Translation: “A little peace”)

Thoughts: This song gives me a really warm, nostalgic feeling, and I don’t know why. I mean, I know this one did well internationally, so it’s possible I just heard it as a kid, but given how I grew up in the early 2000s, “Eurovision is a shitty freak show full of weirdos from the USSR who gang up on the UK and don't vote for us on purpose” era Britain, that’s highly unlikely. Anyways, this is such a warm, fuzzy kind of song. It has a lovely… round-the-campfire, singalong kind of vibe, like this is meant to be sung by a load of long haired hippies with flowers in their hair and CND symbols drawn on their cheeks. And it’s… … Also kind of bland. If you’ve been reading my personal winners so far, you’ll have noticed I definitely have a soft spot for old German entries, so it’s a shame I find the one song they actually won with to be so… generic. It’s like they got tired of being unique so decided to send the same saccharine fluff everyone else was sending, and guess what, it paid off majorly, because this song was a huge hit at the time. Something about that kind of bothers me, like, out of all the entries they sent, it’s the one that’s the most “Eurovision-y” that ended up winning. And there’s something depressing in that.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? United Kingdom- Bardo- “One Step Further”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 50th

1983: Si la vie est Cadeau

Country: Luxembourg

Artist: Corinne Hermés

Language: French (Translation: “If life were a gift”)

Thoughts: You want a tip on how to stand out amongst Eurovision fans? Say you like this song. Probably won’t make you very popular, but you’ll stand out at least. I will confess, I, too, was part of the hate-wagon for this song. Like most fans I knew, I’d complain about how boring and uninteresting it was and how it, ahem, “robbed” so many other entries, and how basic it was, et cetera, et cetera. But… honestly? It’s not even that bad. Sure I had other favourites from 1983 (the ones I could stand watching anyway, the host that year was so unimaginably terrible I gave up watching halfway through. I DARE you to watch the whole thing without wanting to neck yourself), but this song gets way more hate than it deserves. I honestly don’t think this song is half as bad as I made it out to be myself, or as bad as the fandom makes it out to be. It’s got a decent melody, some solid vocals, some appealingly 80s instrumental, like there’s a lot I like here. …Until you read the lyrics and realise they’re almost as half-assed and lazy as All Kinds of Everything’s, but I digress. Did I prefer other songs from that year? Of course. Am I going to complain about this one winning? Nah. It’s alright. 

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Sweden- Carola Häggkvist- “Främling”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 41st

1984- Diggiloo, Diggiley

Country: Sweden

Artist: Herreys

Language: Swedish

Thoughts: Whenever I was a younger fan I used to describe this song as being drunk-dad-at-a-wedding-music performed by three sentient Ken dolls, and I still stand by that statement. And I don’t really know how else to describe this one. It certainly has its charm, and it’s still a likeable song, but it also feels very… vapid. Like if this song were a person, they’d be a bit of a bimbo. And I mean, the song’s about how the singer’s oh-so-happy and prancing down the street in his brand new shoes, so that’s probably a fair description. Part of me wonders if that’s down to old Eurovision songs being vapid in general or if it’s down to the schlager genre itself requiring songs to be kinda neutered and happy-go-lucky, but even though I do like this song, it does come off as being a bit bland. A bit by-the-numbers and playing-it-safe. And I don’t mind songs like that, but I’d rather they didn’t win, y’know?

Is this my personal winner for this year? Not really

If no, what is? Italy- Alice & Franco- “Il Treni di Tozeur”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 15th

1985- La det Swinge

Country: Norway

Artist: Bobbysocks

Language: Norwegian

Thoughts: Ah yes, the song which finally hauled Norway into first place after years of being a regular last-placer. Maybe the UK should take some notes instead of blaming Brexit. Or Russia. Or Iraq. Or anything other than their own apathy, for that matter. But this is about La det Swinge and not the UK, so what are my thoughts on it? Well it’s… It’s the kind of song I imagine my mom and aunt would sing at a wedding if they ever attended one. It’s a very fun song, a little cheesy, sure, but it’s hard to not like a song that’s this upbeat and cheery.  And yeah I know it’s because it’s schlager and that’s generally a really cheerful genre by default, I touched on that in the review above, 

Is this my personal winner for this year? This or Israel

If no, what is? Israel- Yizhar Cohen- “Olé Olé”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 14th

1986- J’aime la Vie

Country: Belgium

Artist: Sandra Kim

Language: French

Thoughts: This song is an enigma because I’m an absolute slut for 80s pop, yet, for some reason, I find this song painfully average and uninteresting. Now, I’ll get it off my chest and say that 1986 was also a painfully average and uninteresting year, and most of the time I just felt myself remembering the singer more than the song, and even then I struggle to remember what some of the acts even were. It was just such a boring blur of a year I’m surprised the juries even managed to stay awake to pick a winner. And I GUESS you could argue that this song is so upbeat and peppy that it woke them up, but that doesn’t excuse how bloody generic it is. Like, this is the most generic 80s song you can imagine, and not in a good way. It feels more like stock music than an actual publicly released pop song. Had it not won, I doubt it would’ve stood out to me at all; it would’ve just faded into the background with all the other muted, 80s-coloured mush from this year. Basically, there’s a reason the singer’s age is the only thing noteworthy about this song.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Not really

If no, what is? Luxembourg- Sherisse Laurence- “L’amour de ma vie”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 49th

1987- Hold me Now

Country: Ireland

Artist: Johnny Logan 

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the superior Johnny Logan winner.  And I’m not sure why everyone forgets this one because Mother of Mercy this song is in another league entirely compared to the other schlock Ireland’s won with. Like this is their best winner, no competition. One of their best songs overall as well. One of the best entries from the 80s, one of the best winners of the 80s, one of the best winners… Yeah, I really like this song.  I’ll admit to sleeping on this one for too long myself, always dismissing it as some boring Irish ballad to go with all the other boring Irish ballads they somehow managed to win with (we’ll get to that later), and always agreeing with people who said XYZ country (always Yugolslavia) should have won instead.  Basically I learnt the hard way to never judge a song on its country and genre. But one day I found myself in the midst of a revisiting trip, going back to winners I didn't pay much attention to, just to see if there was anything I’d missed the first time round. And something about the lyrics in this song resonated with me a lot more than I thought they would. In a strange way, it made me feel older; like I’d grown up and was able to relate to the words in a song and appreciate it more than I could when I was younger. The line “what do you say when words are not enough?” especially hits harder than it should; as someone with autism I tend to find showing emotions difficult, even in virtual conversation where I’m not using my voice or face, because… Well, what do you say when your words aren’t enough?

Is this my personal winner for this year? Yes

If no, what is? N/A

Personal ranking (out of 67): 2nd

1988- Ne Partez pas Sans Moi

Country: Switzerland 

Artist: Céline Dion 

Language: French

Thoughts: Telling people Céline Dion won this thing is a new favourite hobby of mine, just to see the confused reaction. And that’s the most interesting thing about this song because it’s… fine, I guess? It’s a perfectly serviceable 80s power ballad, but there’s no bells and whistles to make me sit up and declare it any better than just “okay”. It’s basically the ballad equivalent of J’aime la Vie from 1986, in that it’s extremely 80s and also in French, but there’s nothing to make it that memorable aside from the singer herself. And even then this isn’t the song that made her famous anyway. Even her singing doesn't make this one stand out, partially because the song doesn't do anything special with it, and partially because she just blends in with all the other good singers of this era. And that’s kinda sad to think about.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Hmmm....

If no, what is? Greece- Afroditi Frida- “Clown”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 22nd

1989- Rock Me

Country: Yugoslavia

Artist: Riva

Language: Croatian

Thoughts: So this is another song it really took me a while to get into (there’s lots of those, trust me) and one that was very briefly in my top three overall favourites. It’s slid down a few slots since then, though I would still say it’s… Somewhere in the top 15.  I don’t really have a lot to say about this one, if I’m honest. It’s just a good, fun, solid song which stood out in a very dull and ballad-saturated year, nothing more, nothing less. The lyrics are nice too, being about a bored musician who learns to love music again by teaching himself how to play pop songs to entertain his friends. That’s a unique subject and I can imagine it resonating with a lot of people who’ve fallen out with a hobby they used to love because they took it too seriously (providing they either speak Croatian or have looked up the lyrics, of course). I mean, it resonates with me at least. All in all, I just like this song for its message more than anything else.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Portugal- Da Vinci- “Conquistador”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 9th

#Eurovision #mod's winner reviews #posting now because the tag will be CHAOS come 7 lmao #esc winners

[martinmotherfckingfreeman]

Martin Freeman 2004 James Stenson Photoshoot

Throwback? Spotted the middle 6 posted on twitter, went digging for more. Too bad he’s not actually playing the drums. As far as photoshoots go, nothing spectacular tbh, especially when the variation is +/- the jacket/tie, and only one(?) other outfit (the subtle pattern on that off-white number paired with the dark shirt is not bad though).

He still looks very much like he could be Tim from the office in most of the shots here (I blame that unimaginative suit and wtf even is that orange tie?), kinda amazing how he went from this to the motherfucking GQ yacht daddy looks in 10+ years. 

Sources: 1 - jamesstenson.com 2/9/10 - martin-freeman.com 2004 photoshoots 3/4/5 - @dailymfreeman on Twitter 6/7/8 - @dailymfreeman on Twitter

Bonus shot from (supposedly?) 2005, also by James Stenson according to martin-freeman.com, although if not for the lack of pinstripes on the suit there’s almost no discernible difference from the 2004 ones. So spoiled by his current fashion choices that everything else looks drab in comparison lol.

#martin freeman #photoshoot #2004 #james stenson #throwback

[prettywordsyouleft]

Experimental

Summary: As a scientist, it was up to Changkyun to ensure the variables in this experiment remained controlled. The last thing he expected was to become part of the experiment himself.

Pairing: Im Changkyun x reader

Genre: vampire au / co-workers to lovers au

Warnings: a snippet of vampire sexual urges but it’s all really tame tbh.

A/N: The final week of Frightful October is here! Welcome to The Classics! Who doesn’t love a good vampire story, huh? And because I forever enjoy writing Changkyun and science together, let’s continue that trend here!

Word count: 4059

[Frightful October Masterlist]

It all happened quite fast really.

One day, Changkyun was human and the very next day he was a vampire. Waking up in his new form had initially confused him. Much like Peter Parker in the Spiderman series, once the venom had run throughout his body, the physical attributes were the first sign to his change. Changkyun sat up in his bed, his vision increasingly sharper than it had been the day before. Rubbing at his eyes, he returned to staring at the curtains, letting out a yelp when the skin over his face started to feel overly hot with the stream of morning light hitting it.

Unlike Peter Parker, Changkyun’s changes didn’t excite him about being some amazing superhero with heightened abilities.

Instead, he let out a curse. An incredibly long, unintelligible string of profanity actually, dashing out of his room and into the bathroom with haste. He should have been more concerned, but he laughed incredulously as he swore again, no longer capable of seeing his reflection in the mirror at all.

And that was when Im Changkyun realised his experiments had adopted a very different variable that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“Are you alright?” you asked when Changkyun arrived in the lab two hours later, glancing up from the microscope you were observing slides of the specimen under and frowning. “Your skin looks deathly pale.”

With another bitter laugh, Changkyun nodded, slipping on his lab coat and coming over to your side. He knew enough about the blood you were working on together now that he expected the burning before he even took a single step forward. But it was unimaginable how overwhelming it all got. He could hear your heartbeat, steady and strong. Your blood was rushing through your veins, flowing down forks and pathways at a rate he had never anticipated. He could sense your next slightest movement before you made it and you suddenly had a scent permeating off your body he had never smelled before.

It was so delectable, he could almost taste it.

Still, to you, Changkyun appeared sluggish, perhaps a little unwell. His sudden transformation overnight was unbeknownst to you and you merely smiled warmly at him when he was close enough.

Far too close for a newly turned vampire, he thought.

“I’ve been monitoring the slides you made last night and there have been some evolving cells in slide seven,” you explained, picking it up and placing it under the microscope. Changkyun had seen it before you had placed it down, blinking rapidly at being able to pick it up without the assistance of equipment. Still, he humoured you, stepping in front of the instrument and looked down into it.

Of course, there had been some improvement. The hybrid cells had formed thanks to him and the mishap he had last night.

At first, he hadn’t wanted to admit he had made a mistake. As the head scientist on this project, he knew more than anyone else about the impacts of the specimen you were working with. Whilst there was no vampire present in this lab – or at least, there hadn’t been until now – the blood was potent enough that if a single drop touched human skin, it would end up being a fatal experience.

And then you’d wake up a vampire, just as he had.

It wasn’t even that simple. He had been on the brink of discovery, focusing on the cell structure in slide number seven that was showing possible indications on how to duplicate it enough to create a cure. Whilst vampires only made up 5% of the world’s population, the primitive creature comforts of drinking from the necks of victims was now in for a modernised revision. There was a market for medical research, to help vampires live more comfortably alongside humans. No more sucking them dry or using up blood banks that were exploiting the not-so mythical creatures for all they were worth. Instead, they would offer a synthetic drug with components that allowed the vampire to exist peacefully in a world run by humans. It wouldn’t cure them completely, but if taken regularly, it would keep the carnal urges at bay, allow them to walk in sunlight and even share normal interactions with humans.

He had been so close with a breakthrough, only to taint it with his own blood instead.

Looking at the slide, he could see the cells had morphed, enhanced by his blood that it had absorbed. Essentially, he had fed the deprived specimen when his finger had slipped whilst working last night, and whilst he had been focusing more on himself and trying to not get infected, he had abandoned the slide’s immediate changes.

Now up close, it looked beautiful.

“I don’t know how such a change could have happened,” you mentioned with confusion, lifting your hand to rest on his upper arm as you would often do in the lab. However, he knew it was about to happen and stepped away before you could touch him, your perplexed expression deepening at his jittery behaviour. Your eyebrows knitted together. “You okay?”

“Just watch that slide for me. Do not touch it with your hands.”

You rolled your eyes. “Who would be dumb enough to do that? That’s why we have specialised equipment, Kyun.”

“Of course. I’ll be up in my office if you need me,” he mumbled, leaving you on the lab floor and taking to the stairs in the corner, hurrying up them and into his sanctuary. Once the door was shut, he ran a hand over his face irritably, soon pulling away to inspect his finger. The cut was gone, as he expected it would be but still, it piqued his curiosity. As a scientist, it was an innate skill to always ask questions of the problems presented to him. He couldn’t understand how he had changed into a vampire when his actual finger hadn’t touched the slide. What had been contaminated by the blood before his wound happened? The outside of his gloves? Your chiding answer repeated in his head, and Changkyun replayed last night’s hours spent in the office. He marvelled at the speed in which his brain functioned, the clarity of his memory now exceptional. It was as if he was rewinding through CCTV, finding the moment of his accident and watching it unfold in his mind once more. He had been using the equipment expected of his team. Although his attention was definitely not on what was happening around him, and that was where the fault lied. He recognised there was more than one slide infected, leaping up from his chair and raced down the stairs right as you glanced up at him in horror.

“Changkyun, slide four is empty!”

He already knew where it had gone.

Explaining his mishap wasn’t something he wanted to do. Especially since he was now a vampire. He didn’t know what this variable meant to this team. Would you freak out and tell the officials? Were the past five years of his endless research about to go to waste now that he wasn’t effectively alive? Changkyun knew he couldn’t risk that, and yet he had no option but to let you know considering this project was as important to you as it was to him.

“You’re being really weird today,” you told him as he pulled you aside from your panic over the missing specimen, whining at his hand on yours. “Are you running a fever? You’re ice cold.”

“I’m dead.”

“Ha-ha, very funny, boss,” you replied, rolling your eyes. Changkyun didn’t respond and when you were done with your dry humour, you stared at him, unblinking.

“It was a mistake,” he mentioned weakly, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “I wasn’t paying enough attention and-”

“Slide four?!” you exclaimed, looking him up at down as if you would find a visible sign on him. There was already enough physical evidence before you, but it didn’t give you the clarity you sought out in your current state.

“Slide seven is contaminated with my blood,” he told you and then heaved a deep breath. “Slide four contaminated me.”

“You’re really dead?”

“Want to grab a stethoscope and check for the lack of beats in my heart?” he offered dryly but you had already grabbed at his wrist, checking for his pulse. You dropped his hand with a dramatic gasp when you found no living signs within his body and Changkyun sighed.

“You’re… you’re a vampire?” you whispered and he nodded. “Really? You’re dead?!”

“So now we have this established-”

“Oh my God, Changkyun, you can’t be a vampire!” you wailed, tears springing to your eyes. You appeared to be in mourning of his loss of life and for a moment, he softened, reaching out to pat your back gently. You glanced up at him through the veil of your emotions, your expression changing. You then thumped him on the chest. “You absolute idiot!”

“Was that meant to be an attack? It felt like a fly landed on me,” he mused and you growled at him, thumping him again. Chuckling at your now weakened attack on his body, he allowed you to hit him three more times before he suddenly took your hands hostage, quirking a warning eyebrow at you. “Now, don’t excite me too much, Y/N. We don’t know what my new skills can do.”

“I can’t believe how stupid you are. Of all the people, who preached on and on about keeping the experiments stable and safe, it’s you who gets infected. Are you sure you didn’t just do it on purpose? Oh, look at me, the scientist vampire!”

“Okay, that’s enough,” he grumbled, all humour evaporated as he stared at you darkly. “Accident or not, I’m still your boss. And this is my experiment I’m leading. We’ve just got a new variable in place now.”

“Instead of using slides, I can use you?” you offered sourly, folding your arms across your chest. “Here, you didn’t have a vampire specimen in the flesh before, now you can use me.”

“Are you done?”

“No, I’m still frustrated,” you admitted with a heavy breath, looking up at him soon after. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Well, I don’t know. My studies tell me that I should be okay until I’m hungry.”

“Which is when? Should I go get you some blood? I think we have some in the chiller. What type do you fancy? A, O-positive?”

It all sounded so unfathomable to him right then and he merely glared at your rambling.

“What? I need to keep myself safe too. Soon you’ll be telling me how delicious I smell and want me to offer up a wrist or something.”

Changkyun swore for the umpteenth time today. “You do smell better than any meal I’ve ever had.”

You gaped at his announcement, but he merely moved to the chair behind his desk, shaking his head. “But I’d be damned if I ever drank a sip of your blood.”

Three days after his transformation, you had calmed down enough to see the benefits of having a vampire in the lab. Of course, Changkyun was concerned about the changes to his body and requested a full examination before your thoughts ran off with you. He did agree with you, advances on the research would be faster with his newly gained immortality. A test subject would be needed eventually, and this way he would be able to control the experiments on the subject since it would be himself.

Still, initial findings were needed.

“Okay, strip,” you instructed gleefully, Changkyun darting his focus to your wicked expression. “What, I need access to your body to get in-depth analysis, boss.”

“There’s no need to sound so exceptionally excited about it. There’s nothing major to uncover,” Changkyun grumbled, unbuttoning his shirt all the same. Your avid watch soon changed, the further his body appeared on display, the deeper the blush on your skin became. He smirked. “Or maybe, there is something to be excited over.”

“Who knew an overworked scientist would find enough time to hit up the gym,” you breathed, supposedly out of hearing. Though you realised his improved hearing had picked up on your admiration and you coughed loudly, turning away from him to gather your equipment and hopefully some more composure.

“What’s first?” he asked as he sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the examination table, and you turned far too quickly, his hand reaching out to stabilise you. He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Are you fit to examine me?”

“Get over yourself, of course I am,” you muttered, taking a deep breath. Staring up into his eyes as opposed to his naked torso, you listed off all that you wanted to check. The basic stats had already been kept on record since his change, Changkyun monitoring his own health. Of course, apart from the whole lack of a heartbeat and aversion to sunlight, he felt physically perfect.

And your findings supported this. “The x-rays show no abnormalities and your reflexes are off the charts. Sight is far superior than before and you aced your hearing exam. Only one thing left.”

“Ultrasound?” he concluded and you nodded. He moved onto the examination table again, resting into the back support that you had raised up so he could watch your findings. You wheeled the machine over and started setting up; now relatively quiet for someone who normally had a lot to say.

“Is it all becoming too much for you today, doctor?” he teased and you glanced at him, your expression vulnerable. Changkyun frowned, wondering what you were thinking of.

“Is it true about the uncontrollable sexual desires?” you asked softly as you gently dabbed gel onto the points of his bare chest that you would use to help the wand glide over his skin. You dare didn’t look up, but the rosy flush to your skin was enough to excite Changkyun.

Still, he shrugged in answer. “I’ve been a vampire for three days, what would I know about it?”

The truth was he was acutely aware of the multitude of urges of his new existence. Not only did he track your vitals constantly, but he had vivid fantasies over how he wanted to hear your heart rate spike from him bending you over the table behind you. He wanted to take you as his own and carry you through elicit passion until your human body could no longer continue.

Then again, Changkyun didn’t quite need to be a vampire to have sexual fantasises over you. He’d been having them for as long as he had known you, just not to the extremes they were at now. And he had never been bold enough to act on any of them.

He wondered how long he would be able to hold out on them now.

“I guess it’s another myth. We’ll have to cross it out of our studies.”

“There’s no need to be that hasty, Y/N,” he breathed, arching under the feather-like touch of the wand on his chest. He was annoyed that it wasn’t your hand instead; his desires now heightened thanks to your opening of the topic. Glancing away from your sudden look in his direction, he tapped at the screen. “I want a full study of my heart. That is the one area we need more information on. The findings we have suggest it’s the heart that stimulates the disease so let’s start with that.”

“Of course,” you answered firmly, picking up the task and expertly examining the inner areas of his chest. As you worked, Changkyun tried to focus on any findings of his own. Instead of his chest, he watched you. Were you comfortable with his new form already? You showed no fear towards him, that was evident. But could he trust that you would protect his identity from the higher-ups? That part he hadn’t quite figured out yet. He was prepared to close the experiment down if it kept you safe, and open a private case-study away from here to focus on ways to improve his condition.

But having you onboard had always been a requirement for his studies and without you, he didn’t know what he’d do.

“You’re right; I believe the vampire qualities stem from your heart. I’ll need to study the new slides of your blood cell count, but for now, I am seeing several abnormalities to your heart.”

Changkyun didn’t answer, too lost in staring at you. What more would he have to give up to have you stay at his side? He couldn’t be cliché and say he’d give up his life for you. That was already taken away. But could he exist away from you? His brooding intensified, so focused on his thoughts that when your hand touched his bare chest, he flinched, reacting out of instinct.

You were underneath him on the table in lightning speed, both arms pinned under the weight of his hands. Despite your wide stare, you weren’t frightened at all. He was breathing heavily over you, panting from the outburst.

“Changkyun, did you lie?” you asked softly, your dry swallow echoing in his ears. “It’s not a myth is it?”

“Vampire or not, desires about you have always been there, Y/N.”

“Will you do anything about it?” you hoped, lust surfacing in your gaze. He could take you right there and then. Fulfil all he wanted to, answer every craving.

Instead, he climbed off of you, shaking his head in rejection.

“We need to know all about how I work first. I’m not risking your safety just because I want you.”

You had always been a hard worker, yet since the heated moment during his examination, you were further dedicated to your work. From the first moment you stepped into the lab, you were right to it, taking notes on the slides you were monitoring. You requested more examinations throughout the week, and barely stopped to eat lunch and dinner from being so consumed with your studies.

If Changkyun hadn’t been the subject, he would have been thrilled at your determination and work ethic.

However, he was growing concerned by the day. The discoveries made were all positive, but working so closely alongside you was giving him quite the headache. He was wrestling with his morals, the wickedness of his vampire side battling with the remnants of the human mind. He craved more of you as each hour went by.

It was soon the weekend and Changkyun had given you the day off, spending his own in the lab. The artificial lighting made him feel as if he was still able to function, knowing that he couldn’t join you in running into town to get the groceries since the sun was out. He realised even if you did love him back that your relationship couldn’t be normal now. No dates, not unless they were at night. He couldn’t just go out anywhere either, triggered by the slightest changes around him. Being relaxed and carefree with you was basically impossible.

When one touch from him could crush you.

The weather had turned by the time you arrived back, your clothes sodden as you stepped into the lab, heading for the kitchen to put away your purchases. Just looking at you heated him completely and he snapped the titanium instrument in his grasp in two as if it was a toothpick. You reappeared, gasping at his predicament, blood dripping from his hand.

“Changkyun, you’re bleeding!” you cried, dashing over and he backed off just as fast, pressing himself into the wall. He felt an imprint forming behind him but he didn’t care, watching you to ensure your movement stilled. Looking away to the blood on the table, you went to clean it when he hissed.

“Y/N, leave the lab, now. Go shower and change and I’ll clean this up.”

“But you’re hurt-”

“NOW!” he roared and it was enough for you to back off, turning on your heel and racing towards the exit. He could smell the change in your mood, frightened by him for the first time since he became a vampire. Now out of his sight, he slumped onto the floor, hanging his head.

Nothing could be normal between you as a couple.

The next day you didn’t appear in the lab, and Changkyun didn’t call you down either. He focused on watching over the four slides he had been experimenting with and not on the tears he would hear you shed from upstairs now and then. The weather was still storming outside, the sun nowhere in sight when he left the lab in the afternoon to retrieve a book from his room. Staring at the outside world, he felt compelled to walk out into it, smiling when the rain hit him. His skin didn’t burn or tingle, the sky cloudy enough that this world was safe for him to be out in. He didn’t know how long he walked for or how much he stopped and stared up at the heavens raining upon him, but when he heard your desperate cries behind him, he finally turned, noticing the tears in your eyes.

“Why are you out here?!” you asked, spluttering over your emotions. “Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine! The rain doesn’t hurt at all!”

“Really?” Sniffling back your tears, you stepped closer. “You’re fine?”

“I’m fine. It’s just the sun I can’t be out in!” He laughed, and you grinned, the shared moment easing some of the troubles between you both. You moved until your arms wrapped around his waist, firmly gripping at him so he wouldn’t push you off.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” you told him, pressing into his body further. “I can’t lose you.”

“It’s dangerous around me though, you saw how I was the other day.”

“We’ll figure it out; we’re both pretty good at solving puzzles.” Looking up at him, you squinted against the rain still falling upon you both. Changkyun angled his head enough so that the water didn’t fall onto your face. You beamed. “See, you just solved that problem.”

“You’re stupid for loving me, you know.”

“If it helps you any, I’ve loved you a whole lot longer before you became immortal, Changkyun.”

“Just don’t be like the typical female characters in movies who fawn over their vampire boyfriends like they’re something amazing. I’m still the quirky guy you’ve known since university.”

“I have to get a vampire boyfriend first and that’s been proving rather difficult,” you retorted, scrunching your nose up in disgust. “I basically threw myself at you and you denied me. Guess I’m too human for you now, huh?”

“It’s nothing like that,” he confirmed, cupping your face in his hand gently. “Though I do worry about hurting you.”

“Worse comes to-”

“Don’t finish that sentence; your heart has to keep beating.”

“Why?”

“Because it sounds beautiful,” he told you, leaning down to kiss you. It felt long overdue, the sweetness of your first embrace soon overwhelmed by a hunger that he was certain stemmed more from you than him. He was surprised by your eagerness, allowing you to call how long the kiss lasted. And when you pulled away, you grinned.

“You protect my heart and I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you can walk in the sun again.”

“That sounds like an unfair agreement. Do you know how much control I have to maintain when I’m around you?” he pointed out, taking your hand in his. Then he held up your linked hands and shook them. “I could break your hand right now.”

“You won’t,” you assured with a smile and Changkyun rolled his eyes. “You know, I could work on a way to make you stop existing if you piss me off too much. Scientist, remember?”

“And am I now your biggest subject?”

“I guess you could say that. I need to open up a new case study when we’re back at the lab.”

“What’s it about?”

“How to be a human in love with a vampire,” you told him, smiling demurely. “Reckon I’ll find out all the answers?”

“I’m not sure,” he mused, leaning down to kiss you again. “But you have a lifetime ahead of you to find out.”

_________________

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