#understanding internet hoaxes

[zentarablog]

Top 10 Realities Behind Pizzagate and QAnon (Understanding How Conspiracy Theories Evolve)

In today’s world, we get so much information from the internet, social media, and our friends. It’s awesome to learn new things, but sometimes, ideas spread online that aren’t true at all. These false ideas can be confusing, scary, and sometimes even cause real-world harm. They are often called conspiracy theories. A conspiracy theory is an idea that a secret group is planning something bad,…

[honeyhaeya]

I was up all night thinking about a wonwoo fic. Bunny hybrid x Wonwoo. it just fits wonwoo more cus like, he's a nerd, and a computer kind of guy, going to the dark internet just to explore some sht or for fun then he comes across a bunny hybrid for sale in the marketplace. Please notice. Ily and thankyou <3 (ps. i chose to request this to you cus i love your fics sm)

Lean On Me - 내게 기대

Jeon Wonwoo x F!Reader

genre / tags: fluff, smut, hurt/comfort, hybrid AU, bunny!reader x human!wonwoo, gentle dom!wonwoo, breeding Kink (mild undertones), cockwarming (i will never shut up about wonwoo cockwarming), aftercare, established feelings warnings: NSFW (18+ only): explicit smut, detailed descriptions of sexual acts, hybrid characteristics (reader has bunny ears, slight animalistic instincts), mentions of past mistreatment/trauma (handled with care), overstimulation, clingy/intimate dynamic due to reader’s heat cycle, emotional vulnerability during aftercare. smut warnings: fingering, oral (f. receiving), penetration (piv), breeding kink implications (no pregnancy mentioned), cockwarming 9it's just so wonwoo), unprotected sex, sensual dominance from wonwoo, consensual and soft tone throughout. wc: 10,379 a/n: i think i've been writing wonwoo fics too much. i'm in love with jeonghan pls come back. (honestly, i love wonwoo sm too). DON'T LIKE DON"T READ please wtf this is animal play. seventeen taglist: @archivistworld <33 (no pressure, but if you want to be added on my taglists, there's a form i made (check my pinned post and click on "join taglist".) Preview: "Wonwoo’s fingers traced along the edge of your thigh, moving with a patience that made you ache even more. The heat within you pulsed stronger with every gentle touch, every whispered reassurance. ‘Wonwoo... please,��� you whimpered, burying your face in his chest as your tears soaked into his shirt. His voice was low, soothing, as he kissed the crown of your head. ‘I know, bunny. Let me take care of you.’ When his fingers slipped inside you, the relief was instant yet fleeting. The heat still burned, demanding more. And as his lips brushed against your own, you knew you were in safe hands, even as your instincts screamed for something primal.In the aftermath, with his shirt draped over you and his scent everywhere, you curled into his chest. Wonwoo's fingers lazily stroked your ears, his quiet promise lingering in the air. ‘I’ll keep you safe, always.’”

Wonwoo sat in the dim light of his apartment, the soft hum of his computer the only sound in the room. The clock on the wall ticked past 2 a.m., but sleep was the last thing on his mind. He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping rhythmically against the keyboard as he navigated a hidden marketplace on the dark web.

The site's interface was crude, with grainy images and glitchy text. He wasn't here for anything specific—this was just something he did when he was bored. It wasn't about breaking laws or finding trouble. For Wonwoo, the dark web was a rabbit hole of bizarre curiosities: forums about conspiracy theories, marketplaces selling counterfeit antiques, and coded discussions he'd never understand. Tonight, however, something caught his eye.

A new listing had appeared at the top of the page:

"Hybrid Companion for Sale - Limited Edition, One of a Kind."

The thumbnail image showed a woman, or at least, what looked like one. She had delicate bunny ears that drooped slightly, pale white skin, and wide, doe-like eyes that seemed to stare right through the screen. Her hair was soft and silvery, cascading over her shoulders like freshly fallen snow.

Wonwoo furrowed his brows, unsure whether to laugh or close the tab. "What the hell?" he muttered under his breath, leaning closer. It had to be a hoax, right? Some twisted art project or a desperate scam. But the listing's details were oddly... thorough:

"Bunny Hybrid #1438 Condition: New, untested. Perfect for companionship. Compliant and affectionate. Warning: For indoor use only. Price: 0.15 BTC (approx. ₩5,850,300 KRW - 4,000 USD) Delivery: Discreet, within 48 hours."

Wonwoo's skepticism grew. Untested? Indoor use? The phrasing felt clinical, like she was some kind of product. A chill ran down his spine, but curiosity gnawed at him. He clicked the listing.

The description expanded, revealing more photos. They showed her sitting on a minimalist chair in an empty white room, her ears twitching slightly. She wore a simple white dress, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The closer he looked, the harder it was to dismiss her as a mannequin or a clever CGI creation. She looked alive.

Wonwoo's hand hovered over the keyboard. This was insane. Why was he even considering this? But something about her expression in the photos stopped him. She didn't look scared or sad—just... empty, like she didn't know she was being sold.

"It's fake," he told himself. "It's probably fake."

But the listing had a countdown timer. "Auction closes in 10 minutes."

Before he knew it, Wonwoo had opened his crypto wallet. His fingers moved on autopilot, transferring the required amount to the provided address. The process felt surreal, like he was watching someone else make the decision for him. When the transaction confirmed, he stared at the screen, half expecting the site to crash or for the listing to disappear.

Instead, a message popped up: "Purchase Confirmed. Delivery instructions will follow shortly."

His stomach twisted. What had he just done?

Minutes later, an encrypted email arrived with a single line of text:

"Pick-up location: [Redacted]. Arrive at 11 p.m. tomorrow. Alone."

Wonwoo closed the laptop and pressed his palms against his face. This was either the biggest mistake of his life or the start of something he couldn't quite name.

The next night, Wonwoo pulled his hoodie tighter around himself as he approached the location—an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. The air was damp, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed in the distance. His heart raced, every instinct screaming at him to turn back.

Inside, the space was dimly lit, with a single crate in the center of the room. No guards, no people. Just the crate.

He approached cautiously, his footsteps echoing against the concrete floor. The crate was wooden, with slats that allowed him to see inside. He crouched down, peering through the gaps.

You were there, curled up and motionless. Your bunny ears twitched slightly, the only sign you were alive. Up close, you looked even more delicate. Your pale skin seemed to glow faintly under the dim light, and your breathing was soft and steady. You wore the same white dress from the photos, now slightly crumpled.

Wonwoo swallowed hard, unsure of what to do. He tapped lightly on the crate.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you sat up slowly, your gaze locking onto his. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, you tilted your head, your bunny ears perking up slightly as if studying him.

"Hey," he said awkwardly. "I'm... Wonwoo."

You didn't respond, your expression unreadable. Slowly, you reached out, pressing your hand against the slats of the crate. Your fingers were slender, your nails neatly trimmed. Wonwoo hesitated before pressing his own hand against yours, the wood separating you.

"I'm here to take you home," he said, his voice soft.

You blinked, your ears twitching again. And for the first time, your lips parted.

"Home?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo sat on the couch, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. You sat on the floor near the coffee table, your posture tense and ears twitching as you took in your new surroundings. You hadn't said much since leaving the warehouse, only responding with short nods or quiet murmurs when he asked if you were okay.

The silence was suffocating. Wonwoo cleared his throat. "Uh, are you hungry? Thirsty?"

You blinked, tilting your head slightly. "Thirsty... what's that?"

His eyebrows shot up. "Thirsty. Like... do you want water?" He stood and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it from the tap. "Here."

You hesitated before taking the glass from his hands. Your fingers brushed his, and he noticed how cool your skin felt. Bringing the glass to your lips, you took a tentative sip, your nose wrinkling slightly at the taste.

"It's... plain," you muttered, setting the glass down.

Wonwoo chuckled softly. "Yeah, it's just water. I guess you're not used to it."

You shrugged, your ears flicking forward. "I don't remember what I'm used to."

That caught him off guard. He crouched down to meet your gaze, his tone careful. "You don't remember anything? Not even where you came from?"

You shook your head, looking away. "Just... flashes. Bright lights. Voices. Nothing else."

Wonwoo frowned, a pang of guilt settling in his chest. Whatever you'd been through, it wasn't normal. He couldn't shake the feeling that you'd been treated more like an object than a person.

"Hey," he said gently, "you don't have to figure everything out right now. Just... take it one step at a time, okay?"

You looked back at him, your wide eyes softening slightly. "Why are you being nice to me?"

The question hung in the air for a moment. Wonwoo rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to answer. "I don't know," he admitted. "I guess I felt like I couldn't just leave you there."

Your lips curled into the faintest smile, and for the first time, your shoulders relaxed.

Later that night, as Wonwoo set up a makeshift bed for you on the couch, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching him. He double-checked the locks on the windows and doors, his paranoia rising. It didn't make sense; no one had followed him, and the pickup had been clean.

"Wonwoo?" Your voice broke his train of thought.

He turned to see you standing by the couch, your bunny ears drooping slightly. "Yeah?"

"Are you... afraid of me?"

The question hit him like a truck. "What? No! Why would you think that?"

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "Because... they were. The people before you."

Wonwoo's stomach twisted. He approached you slowly, hands raised as if to reassure you. "I'm not afraid of you," he said firmly. "Whatever happened before, it's over. You're safe here."

You studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Okay."

But as you lay down on the couch and he retreated to his room, he couldn't shake the unease creeping over him. Something wasn't right.

The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator. Wonwoo lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, but sleep refused to come. His thoughts kept circling back to you—your hesitance, your fragility, and the way your ears twitched slightly every time he spoke.

A soft creak pulled him from his thoughts.

He turned his head toward the door, catching sight of your silhouette in the faint glow of the hallway light.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice low.

You hesitated before stepping further into the room. "I don't think I've ever slept on a couch before."

Wonwoo sat up, rubbing his face. "Oh. Sorry about that. I should've—"

"It's not bad," you interrupted, your voice soft. "It's just... quiet."

The words made his chest tighten. "Do you want to sit?" He patted the edge of the bed.

You hesitated, your eyes darting to the floor before you shuffled closer, perching on the edge of the mattress. The tension in your shoulders was unmistakable.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently.

You glanced at him, your ears twitching slightly. "Talk about what?"

"Whatever's on your mind."

A soft, humorless laugh escaped your lips. "You really want to hear it?"

He nodded, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "Yeah. I do."

You sighed, your gaze fixed on your hands. "I don't know who I am. I don't know why I was there or what they wanted from me. All I know is... every time I think about going back, it feels like my chest is caving in."

Wonwoo's hands clenched into fists. He hated the thought of you being scared, of someone putting you in a position where fear was all you knew.

"You're not going back," he said firmly.

Your head snapped up, your wide eyes meeting his. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I won't let it happen," he said, his voice steady. "I don't know how or why I ended up finding you, but I'm not going to let anything happen to you now that you're here."

The weight of his words hung in the air. Your ears lowered slightly, and for the first time, he saw a glimmer of relief in your expression.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Without thinking, Wonwoo reached out, his hand brushing against yours. Your fingers twitched but didn't pull away. It was a small gesture, but it felt monumental.

"You're not alone anymore," he murmured.

For the first time, the tight knot in your chest loosened.

The next morning, Wonwoo woke up to the smell of burnt toast. Groaning, he stumbled out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he made his way to the kitchen.

There you were, standing by the toaster with a frown, a slightly charred piece of bread in your hand.

"Uh, what's going on?" he asked, stifling a laugh.

You turned, your cheeks flushing pink. "I thought I'd try to... cook. But it's harder than I thought."

He walked over, taking the toast from your hand. "You're supposed to set the timer, not just guess."

You crossed your arms, your nose scrunching in frustration. "Well, no one told me that."

Wonwoo couldn't hold back his laughter this time. The sound startled you, and before you knew it, you found yourself laughing too. It was small and hesitant at first, but then it grew, bubbling up from somewhere deep inside you.

It was the first time he saw you smile.

And damn, it made his heart stutter.

After breakfast—well, what could be salvaged from your experimental cooking—Wonwoo sat across from you at the small dining table. He had insisted on making the second round of toast himself, and now the two of you sat in companionable silence, nibbling on toast and sipping coffee (or, in your case, a very sugary cup that he'd adjusted after seeing you gag at the first sip).

"So," Wonwoo said after a moment, breaking the silence. "Do you have a name?"

You froze mid-bite, your ears perking up. "A name?"

He nodded, his eyes soft. "Yeah. What do people call you? Or... did they call you anything?"

You frowned, the question pulling at a thread of memory that seemed just out of reach. "I... think it's Y/N," you said slowly, the name feeling both familiar and strange on your tongue.

"Y/N," Wonwoo repeated, testing it out. He smiled slightly. "It suits you."

A blush crept up your neck, and you quickly looked down at your plate. "It's just a name."

"It's your name," he corrected gently. "That makes it special."

You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his gaze. No one had ever spoken to you like this—like you were a person, not a thing.

"But," he added, leaning back in his chair with a playful smirk, "I think I'll call you Bun instead."

"Bun?" You blinked, your nose wrinkling slightly.

"Yeah," he said, his smirk widening. "You've got bunny ears, and it's cute. Just like you."

Your ears twitched furiously at the compliment, and you couldn't stop the blush from spreading across your cheeks. "You can't just—say things like that."

"Why not?" he teased, his voice light. "It's true."

You glared at him, though the effect was ruined by the way your lips twitched upward. "Fine. Then I'm calling you Woo. See how you like it."

He chuckled, the sound warm and rich. "Woo, huh? I think I can live with that."

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a genuine warmth blooming in your chest—a feeling you didn't quite know how to name.

That evening, the two of you ended up on the couch, a random movie playing in the background as Wonwoo showed you how to navigate the TV remote. You had leaned closer to him, your curiosity outweighing your usual cautiousness.

"And this button changes the volume," he explained, his voice low.

You nodded, your face scrunched in concentration as you tried it out. The sound of the TV grew louder, and you quickly pressed the button again to lower it, a triumphant smile lighting up your face.

"See? Easy," he said, his lips quirking up as he watched you.

You turned to him, your smile fading slightly as you realized how close you were. His face was only inches from yours, his dark eyes steady and unreadable.

"Woo?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you so nice to me?"

He tilted his head, his gaze softening. "I already told you. You deserve to feel safe."

"But why do you care so much?" you pressed, your eyes searching his face for answers.

He hesitated, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "I don't know," he admitted finally. "Maybe because you remind me that... not everything in this world is as cold as it seems. You're... different, Bun. And I want to protect that."

Your breath caught in your throat. No one had ever spoken to you like that—like you were something worth protecting, worth caring for.

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his. It was a small gesture, but it felt like the world had shifted.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Wonwoo's hand turned, his fingers curling gently around yours. "You don't have to thank me," he said softly. "Just... stay. That's enough."

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his words. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you had found a place where you truly belonged.

The night deepened, the warm glow of the living room casting soft shadows on the walls. Wonwoo had stepped into the kitchen to grab some water, leaving you curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders.

You tugged the fabric closer, your thoughts swirling. For the first time in forever, you didn't feel like you had to be on guard. You didn't have to hide or brace yourself for what might come next.

But that didn't stop the memories from creeping in.

"Bun?" Wonwoo's voice broke through the fog. He was standing in front of you now, holding out a glass of water. "You okay?"

You blinked, quickly nodding. "Y-Yeah."

He didn't look convinced. "You sure? You've been quiet for a while."

You hesitated, your fingers clutching the edge of the blanket. "I was just... thinking."

"About what?" he asked, sitting down beside you.

You swallowed hard, debating whether to tell him. But something in his gaze—steady, patient, understanding—made you feel like you could.

"It's about... me," you said slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. "What I am."

Wonwoo stayed quiet, giving you space to continue.

"I'm not like you," you said, your ears flattening against your head. "I don't just... exist like a normal person. There are... things about me—about my body—that I can't control."

He tilted his head slightly. "Like what?"

You took a deep breath, your cheeks burning with shame. "Like when I go into heat."

Wonwoo's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't say anything, waiting for you to explain.

"It happens every few months," you continued, your voice trembling. "It's... painful. And if it's not treated, it gets worse. But..." You paused, your chest tightening.

"But?" he prompted gently.

Your voice broke as you said the next words. "But the people who used to 'treat' me... they didn't care about the pain. They only cared about using me for themselves."

The silence that followed was deafening. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, too afraid of what you might see in his eyes—disgust, pity, or worse.

But when Wonwoo finally spoke, his voice was calm and steady. "That's not going to happen again."

You blinked, glancing up at him. "What?"

He shifted closer, his expression firm. "No one's ever going to hurt you like that again. I promise."

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you quickly looked away. "You say that, but... what if it happens? What if I can't control it, and you—"

"Stop," he said, his tone gentle but firm. He reached out, his hand resting lightly on yours. "I'm not like them. I'd never take advantage of you."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache. For the first time, you felt like someone saw you—not as an object or a tool, but as a person.

"Do you... do you really mean that?" you whispered.

He nodded. "Every word. And if you ever feel like it's too much, we'll figure it out together. On your terms."

You couldn't stop the tears from falling now, the weight of his words breaking down the walls you had built around your heart.

Wonwoo reached out, his thumb gently brushing away a tear. "Hey. It's okay. You're safe here, Bun."

For the first time, you believed him.

Wonwoo watched as you nodded off on the couch, your breathing evening out, though your grip on the blanket was still tight. Even in your sleep, it seemed like you were holding onto years of fear and mistrust.

He sighed softly, standing to grab the glass you'd left on the coffee table. The sound of his footsteps was faint, careful not to wake you as he moved to the kitchen.

It wasn't like him to get involved in something so... complicated. He usually preferred simplicity—quiet evenings alone, a book in hand, the hum of his PC in the background. He didn't go out of his way for people, not because he didn't care, but because people rarely gave him a reason to.

But you? You were different.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he stared at the glass. There was something about you that tugged at his attention, something beyond the strangeness of finding you on a marketplace. You were guarded but vulnerable, sharp but soft. It made him want to protect you, even if he wasn't sure why.

When he returned to the living room, you were awake, your wide eyes watching him from beneath the blanket.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, his voice low.

You shook your head, your ears twitching slightly. "No. I just... I couldn't sleep."

He sat down on the armchair across from you, his movements slow and deliberate. "Something on your mind?"

You hesitated, your fingers curling around the edge of the blanket. "It's just... strange," you admitted. "Being here. With you."

He tilted his head slightly, waiting for you to elaborate.

"I'm not used to this," you said quietly. "Not used to... feeling safe."

Wonwoo's gaze softened, though his expression remained neutral. "You don't have to get used to it all at once," he said after a moment. "Take your time."

Your lips parted slightly, surprised by his words. Most people didn't give you time—they expected things from you, demanded things you weren't ready to give. But Wonwoo? He was different.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, leaning back in the chair. "I don't know. Maybe I just like rabbits."

A small, breathless laugh escaped you, and his lips quirked into a faint smile.

"I mean it," you said, your tone soft but insistent. "You don't even know me."

"You don't know me either," he pointed out. "Maybe I'm just trying to get on your good side so you don't eat all my snacks."

You laughed again, the sound lighter this time. "I don't think that's how this works."

He shrugged, his eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "Maybe not. But if it makes you laugh, I'll take it."

For a moment, the room was quiet again, but it wasn't the heavy, suffocating silence you were used to. It was... comfortable.

"Wonwoo?" you said softly.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," you said, your voice barely audible.

He didn't respond right away, his gaze steady as he looked at you. Then, with a small nod, he said, "You don't have to thank me, Bun. Just get some rest."

You smiled faintly, your heart feeling a little lighter as you settled back into the couch.

And for the first time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the living room. You stirred awake, stretching slightly under the blanket. Wonwoo was already up, sitting at the dining table with his laptop open, headphones on, and a cup of coffee in hand.

His attention was glued to the screen, his expression calm but focused. You watched him for a moment, feeling a strange sense of peace.

"You're up early," you said, your voice soft.

He glanced over at you, pulling one side of his headphones off. "Couldn't sleep much," he replied. "Thought I'd get some work done. How about you? Did you sleep okay?"

You nodded, sitting up and clutching the blanket around you. "Better than I expected. Thanks for... everything."

He gave you a small nod before returning his attention to the screen.

As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, you realized something: you hadn't had a proper bath in... well, you couldn't remember how long. Your ears twitched slightly at the thought, and you stood, glancing toward the hallway.

"Wonwoo?" you called hesitantly.

"Hmm?" he replied, not looking up.

"Where's the bathroom?"

He pointed down the hall without breaking his focus, but when you hesitated, he finally looked at you. "Everything okay?"

"I..." You fidgeted with the hem of the blanket, avoiding his gaze. "I don't really... know how to do it myself."

That caught his attention. He blinked at you, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. "You don't know how to... take a bath?"

You shook your head, your cheeks warming. "I always had someone help me before," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stared at you for a moment, processing your words. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright. Come on."

"What?" You looked at him, wide-eyed.

"You said you need help, right?" He stood, closing his laptop. "Let's figure it out."

Your ears twitched nervously as you followed him down the hall, clutching the blanket tightly around you.

When he opened the bathroom door, you peeked inside. It was clean and simple, with a glass shower and a bathtub on one side. Wonwoo turned to you, his expression unreadable.

"Alright," he said, crossing his arms. "What do you need me to do?"

You hesitated, your cheeks flushing. "I don't know... maybe just show me how it works?"

He nodded, stepping into the bathroom. He turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature and letting the water fill the tub. "It's pretty straightforward," he said. "You just..."

He trailed off when he noticed you still standing by the door, fidgeting nervously. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's just... a little overwhelming," you admitted. "I'm not used to doing things on my own."

He sighed again, softer this time. "Okay. Look, I'll help you get started, but you're going to have to trust me, alright?"

You nodded, biting your lip.

He grabbed a fluffy towel from the rack and handed it to you. "Here. Wrap this around yourself and let me know when you're ready."

You stepped inside, closing the door halfway before wrapping the towel around you. "Okay," you called out nervously.

Wonwoo stepped back in, careful to keep his eyes on the faucet. "Alright," he said, his voice calm. "You can sit on the edge of the tub for now. I'll show you how to use the showerhead and the soap."

You followed his instructions, perching on the edge as he adjusted the water. He handed you a bottle of soap, explaining how to lather it and rinse it off. His voice was steady, patient, and somehow soothing.

When you fumbled with the soap, he caught your hand gently, guiding you. "Like this," he said, his fingers warm against yours.

You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat. For someone so quiet and reserved, he had a way of making you feel... safe.

"Got it?" he asked, his eyes meeting yours.

You nodded, your cheeks flushing. "Yeah... thanks, Wonwoo."

He gave you a small smile, standing up. "I'll give you some privacy now. If you need anything, just call me."

As he left the bathroom, closing the door behind him, you couldn't help but feel a strange warmth in your chest. Maybe, just maybe, this new chapter in your life wouldn't be so bad after all.

It started out small.

You didn't even notice it at first—just a faint, restless warmth in the pit of your stomach. It was subtle, ignorable even, as you moved through the rest of the day. Wonwoo had gone back to working on his laptop while you explored the apartment, your curiosity keeping you distracted for a while.

But as the hours dragged on, the warmth grew. It wasn't just in your stomach anymore; it spread through your chest, your arms, and your legs, like an itch just beneath your skin that you couldn't quite reach.

By evening, you found yourself sitting on the couch, knees pulled up to your chest, biting your lip as you tried to focus on the TV. But it was impossible. The sensation was overwhelming now, and your ears twitched uncontrollably as you fought to keep your breathing steady.

"Hey," Wonwoo's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed as he looked at you. "You okay?"

You didn't trust yourself to look at him. Your cheeks burned as you nodded quickly. "I'm fine," you mumbled, your voice tight.

He didn't look convinced. Wonwoo stepped closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. "You don't look fine," he said. "What's wrong?"

You shook your head, curling up tighter. "It's nothing," you insisted. "I just... need a minute."

But he didn't leave. Instead, he crouched down in front of you, his dark eyes scanning your face. "You're warm," he said, his voice soft but concerned. "Do you have a fever?"

You flinched as he reached out, his hand brushing against your forehead. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you jerked back, your ears flattening against your head.

"It's not a fever," you said quickly, your voice trembling.

Wonwoo tilted his head, his gaze narrowing. "Then what is it?"

You hesitated, your cheeks burning as you tried to find the words. "I... I think it's my heat," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Your heat?"

You nodded, burying your face in your hands. "It's normal for hybrids," you explained, your voice muffled. "It happens every few months. But I didn't think it would happen so soon..."

Wonwoo was silent for a moment, and you dared to peek at him through your fingers. He looked... surprisingly calm.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, his voice steady.

Your heart skipped a beat at the question. You hadn't expected him to take it so seriously. "I don't know," you admitted. "It's usually... manageable. But it's worse when I'm alone."

He nodded, standing up and holding a hand out to you. "Come on," he said.

You stared at his hand, confused. "What?"

"You said it's worse when you're alone," he said simply. "So don't be alone."

Your cheeks burned as you hesitated, but eventually, you reached out and let him pull you to your feet. He led you to the couch and sat down, patting the spot next to him.

You sat down tentatively, your heart racing as the warmth in your chest seemed to grow even stronger. Wonwoo didn't say anything, but he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding.

"Better?" he asked after a moment.

You nodded, leaning into him slightly. "Yeah... a little."

As the evening went on, you found yourself growing more comfortable in his presence. The warmth was still there, but it was less overwhelming now, tempered by the steady rhythm of his breathing and the gentle weight of his hand.

For the first time since the heat had started, you felt like you could breathe again.

Your whole body was burning. It wasn't just the heat in your stomach anymore—it was a desperate ache that throbbed with every passing second, pooling low in your core. You squirmed against the couch, trying to find some relief, but it only made it worse.

Wonwoo's hand was on your head, his fingers lazily stroking through the fur at the base of your ears. The slow, comforting rhythm sent shivers down your spine, but instead of soothing you, it only stoked the fire inside you.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore it, trying to focus on anything else. But the longer you sat there, the harder it became. Your thighs pressed together involuntarily, your body instinctively searching for some kind of release.

Wonwoo noticed.

"You're fidgeting," he said quietly, his deep voice cutting through the haze in your mind. "Are you okay?"

You froze, your ears twitching at the sound of his voice. "I-I'm fine," you stammered, even though you weren't.

He didn't buy it. His hand moved from your ears to your shoulder, gently turning you to face him. His dark eyes searched yours, and the concern in his gaze made your heart ache.

"You're not fine," he said softly. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

You bit your lip, looking away. How could you possibly tell him? How could you explain this unbearable, shameful need that was consuming you?

"It's... it's my heat," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's bad this time."

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn't pull away. If anything, his grip on your shoulder tightened, grounding you. "How bad?" he asked.

Your cheeks burned as you avoided his gaze. "It hurts," you murmured. "My body... it's aching. I feel like I'm going to explode."

Wonwoo was silent for a long moment, his hand still resting on your shoulder. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm and steady, but there was an edge of something else—something you couldn't quite place.

"Have you ever... had anyone help you before?" he asked carefully.

You nodded, your throat tightening at the memory. "Other hybrids would help sometimes," you said. "But it was never... gentle. They only cared about... breeding."

His jaw tightened, his expression darkening slightly. "And the men?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

You hesitated, your ears flattening against your head. "They didn't care about me either," you admitted. "They just used me for their own pleasure."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken anger and something else—something softer, more tender.

"You deserve better," Wonwoo said finally, his voice firm. "You deserve to be cared for."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "Wonwoo..."

His hand moved to your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "If you'll let me," he said softly, "I want to take care of you."

Your breath caught in your throat. The heat in your body flared at his touch, but it wasn't just physical anymore. There was something deeper, something that made your chest ache just as much as your body did.

"Are you sure?" you whispered, your voice trembling.

He nodded, his dark eyes holding yours. "I want to help you," he said. "But only if you want me to."

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, your cheeks burning. "Okay," you murmured.

Wonwoo's lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. "Good," he said. "Just tell me if it's too much, okay?"

You nodded again, your heart racing as he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

Wonwoo's hand stayed on your cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. His thumb grazed along your skin, grounding you even as your body trembled. The ache inside you was unbearable, but somehow, his presence made it a little easier to endure.

"I'll go slow," he murmured, his voice low and soothing, as if he could sense your nerves. "Just trust me."

You nodded, swallowing hard as his other hand came to rest on your waist, pulling you closer. Your knees pressed into the couch on either side of him, and you felt his warmth radiating against you. It was overwhelming, but it wasn't bad. It was... comforting.

His fingers slid to your ears, brushing over them in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help the small, breathy sound that escaped your lips, and his eyes darkened slightly at the sound.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, his voice soft yet weighted.

You nodded, biting your lip as your hands instinctively gripped the fabric of his shirt. "Yeah," you whispered, your voice shaky.

His lips curved into the faintest smile. "You're sensitive," he murmured, his fingers continuing to trace along your ears. "I'll be careful."

The way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you—like you were something precious, something worth protecting—made your chest ache almost as much as your body burned.

"Wonwoo..." You didn't even know what you were asking for, but his name slipped from your lips like a plea.

"I know," he murmured. "I've got you."

His hands slid down your back, pulling you flush against him. Your forehead rested against his shoulder as his fingers traced small, soothing circles along your spine. It wasn't enough to stop the heat, but it was enough to make you feel safe.

Slowly, he tilted your chin up, his dark eyes searching yours. There was no rush, no impatience. Only warmth and care.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your breath hitching as his lips brushed against yours—tentative at first, testing the waters. But when you leaned into him, he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to hold you steady.

The heat in your body flared, but this time, it wasn't unbearable. It was electric, sparking to life with every touch, every movement.

His lips left yours to trail along your jaw, down the column of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. You couldn't stop the small, breathy noises that escaped you, and you felt him smile against your skin.

"Still okay?" he asked, his voice rougher now, laced with something deeper.

"Yes," you whispered, your fingers curling into his hair. "Please... don't stop."

He didn't. His hands explored your body with a gentleness you'd never experienced before, his touch careful and measured. He was patient, never rushing, always watching your reactions to make sure you were comfortable.

Your body moved instinctively against his, searching for relief, and he guided you through it, his voice a soothing constant in your ear.

"You're doing so well," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "I've got you. Just let go."

And for the first time, you did.

Wonwoo's gaze softened, his fingers gently retreating from your trembling body. He leaned closer, cupping your flushed face with his hand. "You're lying," he murmured, his deep voice steady yet filled with concern. "Your body's still burning up."

You avoided his eyes, embarrassed by how the heat in your core seemed to intensify again, worse than before. It wasn't something you could control, and you hated feeling this vulnerable in front of him.

"It's... just how it is," you whispered, your voice shaky. "I'll be fine. I don't want to bother you—"

"Stop that," he interrupted, his tone firm but still gentle. "You're not a bother, and I told you I'd take care of you."

His words made your chest tighten, a strange warmth blooming there, different from the feverish heat that raged through the rest of your body. You looked up at him, your ears twitching slightly as his thumb brushed over your cheek.

"But... I've never done this with anyone I trust," you admitted, your voice barely audible. "I don't know what to do."

Wonwoo's lips quirked into the faintest smile, his hand moving to gently stroke your ears again, as if to soothe you. "You don't have to do anything," he reassured you. "Just tell me what feels good, and I'll handle the rest. Okay?"

You hesitated for a moment before nodding, your fingers clutching onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back to meet your eyes. "Let's try to make this a little easier for you," he said, his hands moving to carefully lift you into his lap.

The shift in position sent a jolt of warmth through your body, and you instinctively buried your face in his shoulder, your arms wrapping around his neck. His hands settled on your waist, holding you securely as he whispered against your ear.

"Just relax," he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. "Let me take care of you."

His hands began to move again, trailing down your sides, his touch firm yet unhurried. The contrast of his cool fingers against your heated skin made you shiver, and a soft whimper escaped your lips as he dipped lower, tracing the curve of your thighs.

"Wonwoo..." His name left your lips in a breathy plea, and he responded with a low hum, his lips brushing against your temple.

"I'm here," he murmured, his voice steady and comforting. "I've got you."

As his hands worked their way back to your aching core, you felt your body tense in anticipation, your breath hitching when his fingers slid between your folds once again. He was slow, deliberate, as if he was determined to learn exactly what made you feel good.

You couldn't stop the soft moans that spilled from your lips as his movements grew more confident, his thumb circling your clit in a way that made your entire body tremble. He watched you carefully, his dark eyes filled with a mix of concern and fascination, as if he couldn't get enough of the way you responded to his touch.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said softly, his voice laced with something deeper, something that sent a shiver down your spine. "Don't hold back. Let me hear you."

His words broke through the last of your hesitation, and you let yourself fall into the sensation, your head tilting back as waves of pleasure rolled through you. But even as your body tensed and finally released, you could feel the heat building again, stronger than before.

You let out a shaky breath, your forehead resting against his shoulder as your ears drooped slightly. "Wonwoo... it's not stopping," you admitted, your voice trembling with frustration and embarrassment.

He tightened his hold on you, his fingers gently brushing through your hair. "Then we'll keep going," he said simply, his tone unwavering. "I'll stay with you until it's over."

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and filled with uncertainty. "You... you'd really do that for me?"

He smiled, the kind of soft, reassuring smile that made your heart ache. "Of course. I'd do anything for you."

The desperation in your voice, the way your trembling body clung to him—it was enough to make Wonwoo's self-control unravel. He brushed your tears away with a gentle hand, his dark eyes meeting yours, searching for any hesitation. When he saw none, only the pleading desperation in your gaze, he nodded softly.

"You sure, bun?" he asked, his voice thick with restraint, but the nickname rolled off his tongue like honey.

You could only nod frantically, your hands gripping his arms. "Please," you whispered, the ache too unbearable to handle any longer.

Wonwoo moved carefully, lowering himself between your legs, his broad shoulders holding your thighs apart. His fingers slid down to spread your folds again, his touch deliberate, making sure you were still ready for him. The sight of you, wet and needy, made him groan low in his throat, his cock straining against the last layer of fabric between you.

He pulled his underwear down in one swift motion, his length springing free. You gasped at the sheer size of him, the heat in your core only intensifying as you realized what was about to happen.

"I'll go slow," he murmured, positioning himself at your entrance. The tip of his cock teased your slick folds, and you whimpered at the sensation, your hips bucking instinctively.

The moment he started to push in, you moaned loudly, your body arching as the stretch sent a wave of pleasure and pain through you. He froze halfway, giving you time to adjust, his hand stroking your side in soothing circles.

"You're doing so well," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and restraint. "Relax for me, bun. I don't want to hurt you."

His words melted into your ears, and you tried to relax, focusing on the way his hands steadied you. Slowly, he pushed in further, filling you inch by inch until he was fully seated inside you. You let out a breathy moan, your hands clutching at his shoulders as the overwhelming fullness consumed you.

"God, you're so tight," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. "So perfect."

The heat in you was relentless, but the way he stretched and filled you brought a strange sense of relief, as if he was the only thing that could soothe the ache. When he started to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, your body reacted instinctively, your hips lifting to meet his.

"Wonwoo... faster," you begged, your voice trembling as the pleasure began to overshadow the pain.

He didn't hesitate, his thrusts growing faster and deeper, each one hitting a spot inside you that made you cry out his name. The sounds of skin against skin filled the room, along with your soft cries and his low, guttural groans.

"You're so good for me," he rasped, his lips finding your neck, kissing and biting softly as he pounded into you. "Taking me so well."

Your ears twitched at the praise, and your hands slid up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. Every movement, every thrust seemed to push you closer to the edge, the heat in your core intensifying until it felt like you might explode.

"Wonwoo, I—I'm close," you whimpered, your nails digging into his back as your body tensed beneath him.

He nodded, his pace quickening as he held you tighter, determined to bring you over the edge. "Let go, bun. I'm right here. Let go for me."

His words were all it took to push you over, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body shaking as the heat finally broke, leaving you breathless and trembling in his arms.

Wonwoo followed shortly after, his thrusts growing erratic as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning your name as he came. The feeling of his warmth filling you made your body relax completely, the last remnants of your heat fading away.

He stayed there for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath. His hand came up to stroke your ear gently, his touch soothing as you leaned into him.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, a small, tired smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah... I feel so much better now. Thank you, Wonwoo."

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You don't have to thank me. I'll always take care of you, bun."

Wonwoo's arms stayed wrapped around your waist as you sat perched on his lap, your legs straddling him. His forehead rested lightly against yours, and he let out a soft hum, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your lower back. You were still catching your breath, your body trembling slightly, but the closeness between you was soothing.

"You're adorable," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss, as if testing the waters.

Your hands slid up his chest instinctively, clutching at his hoodie for balance. "Says the guy who just—" you paused, cheeks warming, "—made me feel things I didn't think were possible."

Wonwoo smirked faintly, his hands resting on your hips. "Well, I guess we both learned something new today," he teased, leaning in to capture your lips again.

The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, like he was savoring the taste of you. His hand wandered to the small of your back, holding you securely in place as you pressed your body closer to his. The warmth between you both was intoxicating, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn't exist—only the two of you tangled together on the couch.

You broke the kiss, panting softly, your forehead resting against his. "Wonwoo..." you whispered, voice shy yet yearning.

His eyes searched yours, filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache. "What is it, bun?"

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against the nape of his neck. "I feel... safe with you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His heart swelled at your words, and he pressed another kiss to your lips, gentle and reassuring. "You'll always be safe with me," he said firmly, his hand stroking your ear affectionately, earning a soft whimper from you.

As the heat of the moment lingered, Wonwoo shifted slightly, careful not to move too much and overwhelm your still-sensitive body. The weight of the intimacy between you felt heavy but comforting, like a quiet promise unspoken.

"You're really something, y'know," he muttered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

You let out a quiet giggle, your cheeks flushing. "And you're not so bad yourself," you teased, nuzzling against him, your ears twitching slightly from the affectionate strokes of his fingers.

He let out a quiet laugh, his chest rumbling beneath you. "Guess we make a good pair then."

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing soft kisses and whispered words. The tension from earlier was gone, replaced with a warm, unspoken connection that neither of you wanted to let go of.

Wonwoo let out a soft groan, his hands firmly gripping your hips as you shifted slightly on his lap. The motion sent a jolt through both of you, and you gasped, your body still sensitive from earlier. His length was still buried deep inside you, and the intimate connection left your cheeks flushed and your heartbeat erratic.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and strained, the warmth of his breath brushing against your cheek. "I'm trying to take it slow, but you're making it hard."

You bit your lip, your hands braced on his shoulders for balance. "I-I wasn't trying to do anything," you whispered, your voice shy yet laced with a tinge of mischief.

He smirked at your flustered state, his hands sliding up to your waist to hold you steady. "Sure you weren't," he teased, leaning in to kiss the corner of your lips.

Your ears twitched slightly at the sensation, and you couldn't help but let out a soft whimper, your body instinctively clenching around him. The reaction drew a deep groan from Wonwoo, his grip on you tightening as his self-control teetered on the edge.

"You're going to drive me insane," he muttered, his forehead pressing against yours.

You giggled softly, a shy smile playing on your lips. "Maybe I like seeing you like this," you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo's eyes darkened slightly at your words, a playful smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, is that so?" he asked, his tone dripping with mock challenge.

Before you could respond, he shifted his hips slightly, the movement sending a spark of pleasure through your body. You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your breath hitched.

"W-Wonwoo!" you stammered, your cheeks burning.

He chuckled softly, his hands guiding your hips to keep you steady. "Relax, bun," he said gently, his tone soothing yet teasing. "I've got you."

The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world—made your heart flutter. You leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss, your body instinctively responding to his touch. The warmth between you was overwhelming, yet you couldn't bring yourself to pull away.

As the two of you stayed locked in each other's embrace, the world outside faded away. It was just you and Wonwoo, connected in a way that felt deeper than words could ever describe.

Wonwoo's hands slowly roamed up your back as you remained seated in his lap, the warmth between your bodies making you feel like you were melting into him. His lips brushed against yours in a slow, lazy kiss, and the intimacy of the moment made your ears twitch slightly.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your hip.

You nodded, nuzzling into his neck, but your body betrayed you. The heat still lingered, subtle but growing again, your sensitivity making you squirm slightly. Wonwoo's hands tightened their hold on you, sensing your restlessness.

"Still not enough, huh?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with understanding.

"I-It's not..." you trailed off, too embarrassed to finish your sentence, but he tilted your chin up, his eyes meeting yours with a gentle, reassuring gaze.

"I'll take care of you," he promised, his lips brushing yours softly before his hands gripped your hips. With a slow movement, he adjusted your position, and the subtle shift made you moan quietly.

Wonwoo leaned back on the couch, guiding you to move at your own pace, letting you take control. You slowly lifted yourself before sliding back down, and the stretch had both of you exhaling in unison. The intimacy of it—the closeness—made your chest tighten with an overwhelming mix of emotions.

You began moving with his help, finding a rhythm that had you both panting softly. The warmth of his hands on your waist, his whispered words of encouragement, and the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered made your heart race.

"Wonwoo..." you moaned softly, your hands braced on his chest as you moved.

"You're doing so good," he praised, his voice strained but tender. His hands guided your movements, his thumbs brushing over your skin in soothing strokes as he watched you lose yourself to the moment.

The pace gradually increased, your movements becoming more desperate as the pleasure built higher and higher. Wonwoo met you with soft thrusts, his control evident in the way he moved to match your rhythm perfectly.

When you finally reached your peak, your body trembled in his arms, and he held you close, whispering soothing words as you rode out your release. He wasn't far behind, his grip tightening as he followed you over the edge, his groan muffled against your shoulder.

You both stilled, panting heavily, and Wonwoo's arms wrapped around you to pull you into his chest. The weight of exhaustion mixed with relief settled over you, and you nuzzled into him, feeling safe and cherished.

"I think you're trying to kill me," Wonwoo joked softly, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

You giggled, your ears twitching slightly as you leaned into him. "Sorry," you mumbled, though your tone was anything but apologetic.

He chuckled, his hands gently stroking your back. "Don't be. Just... don't move for a while. Let's stay like this," he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

And for a moment, everything felt perfect. But as the heat of the moment faded, the reality of your situation began creeping back in. The two of you had crossed a line, one that could never be undone.

Still, you stayed curled up in Wonwoo's arms, savoring the peace before the world outside the walls of his apartment could interfere once more.

The soft sunlight filtered through the curtains, warming your skin as you stirred awake. You blinked sleepily, the ache of last night still lingering in your body. The weight of his arm around your waist was grounding, protective. Wonwoo was still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to admire him. His face looked softer in the morning light, his sharp features relaxed into something impossibly gentle.

Your bunny ears twitched as his grip tightened slightly, pulling you closer even in his sleep. It was... cozy. Too cozy. You weren't used to this—waking up somewhere that felt safe. You almost didn't want to move, afraid that it would shatter whatever fragile bubble the two of you had formed.

But the warmth between your legs made you squirm slightly, a reminder of everything that had happened the night before. Your face flushed at the memory. You'd never been cared for like that—never had someone look at you like you were more than just... something to use. And yet, there he was, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

Your ears perked up when you felt him stir. His hand flexed on your waist before his eyes fluttered open. His gaze was hazy, still heavy with sleep, but it softened immediately when he saw you.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice deep and gravelly.

You nodded shyly. "Good morning."

His thumb traced lazy circles on your skin, and you could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks again. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.

"I'm okay," you murmured, though your voice wavered slightly. "A little... sore, maybe."

Wonwoo's brows furrowed slightly. "Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head quickly. "No, no! It's not that. I'm just... not used to it. To... someone being gentle."

He didn't respond immediately, but the way his hand tightened on your waist said enough. "You deserve gentle," he said quietly, his tone firm like he wanted to make sure you believed him.

Your chest tightened at his words, and you looked away, unsure of how to respond. This was all so new—too new. And yet, you didn't want it to stop.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. Wonwoo sighed, reluctantly letting go of you to grab it. His eyes scanned the screen, and you saw his expression shift slightly—his jaw tightening.

"What's wrong?" you asked softly, your ears drooping slightly at the sudden tension.

He hesitated for a moment before setting the phone back down. "Nothing," he said, though his tone betrayed him. "Just... work stuff."

You tilted your head, unconvinced, but you didn't push. Instead, you sat up, pulling the blanket around you. "Do you have to go?"

"No," he said quickly, sitting up to meet your eyes. "I'm staying right here."

His hand reached for yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The look in his eyes was steady, reassuring. But you couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was on his phone wasn't just "work stuff."

Still, you smiled softly, letting yourself believe him for now. "Okay."

"Why don't we get some breakfast?" he suggested, his tone lighter now. "I'm sure you're starving."

You nodded, your stomach rumbling at the thought of food. As the two of you got up and started moving around the apartment, you couldn't help but wonder—what exactly was he hiding? And how long would this little bubble of safety last before reality came crashing in?

Wonwoo's lips brushed against the crown of your head as you curled up in his lap, his arms wrapped securely around you. The soft blanket he had draped over your shoulders kept you warm, but it was his steady heartbeat under your ear that gave you real comfort.

"You're awfully quiet now," he murmured, his hand absentmindedly stroking between your bunny ears, earning a soft hum from you. "Is something on your mind?"

You tilted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. His expression was gentle, almost serene, but his dark eyes held an intensity that made you feel bare yet safe all at once.

"It's just... I don't know how to say it," you admitted, chewing on your bottom lip.

"Try me," he coaxed, his fingers shifting to lightly pinch your ear, a smirk tugging at his lips when you squeaked.

You hesitated, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. "I... don't think I've ever felt this safe before. Like... you actually see me as me. Not just some... hybrid with—"

Wonwoo silenced you with a soft kiss, his lips lingering just long enough to melt away your worries. "You're not just anything, Y/N," he said quietly, his forehead pressing against yours. "You're you. That's what matters."

Your heart swelled at his words, and before you knew it, your arms were wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. "Thank you, Wonwoo," you whispered.

"For what?"

"For being... this," you said, leaning back just enough to gesture at him, though you didn't really have the words to explain.

His lips quirked up in that understated smile of his, the one that made your stomach flip. "I guess you're welcome, then."

The moment felt too perfect to break, but your stomach had other plans, growling loudly enough to make you both pause.

Wonwoo chuckled, his chest rumbling against you. "Hungry?"

"...Maybe," you mumbled, your ears drooping slightly in embarrassment.

"Well, let's fix that." He shifted, preparing to stand up with you still in his arms.

"Wait! I can walk!"

He raised an eyebrow. "And miss the chance to carry my cute bunny to the kitchen? Not a chance."

You couldn't fight the grin that spread across your face as he carried you bridal style toward the kitchen, his teasing making your heart feel lighter than it had in years.

After a warm meal that left you feeling full and happy, Wonwoo guided you back to the couch. The evening air had turned cooler, and your soft pajamas were still in his room, far away from where you wanted to be—next to him.

"Here," he said, reaching into the basket of clean laundry he had yet to fold. He pulled out one of his shirts—a soft, oversized black one that smelled distinctly like him, that comforting mix of woodsy cologne and something warm, like coffee.

You blinked up at him, tilting your head. "That's... yours?"

"Yeah." He shrugged, holding it out to you. "You'll be more comfortable in this for now."

"But it'll smell like you."

"And that's a problem because...?" He gave you a lopsided grin, clearly enjoying the slight pout on your lips.

"It's not a problem," you muttered, cheeks warming as you tentatively took the shirt from his hands.

Wonwoo turned away to give you some privacy, though he couldn't help sneaking a quick glance over his shoulder as you slipped into the shirt. It draped over you like a dress, the hem brushing just above your knees, the sleeves far too long for your arms. You tugged at the collar nervously, your bunny ears twitching as the fabric enveloped you in his scent.

"Cute," he said simply, his voice soft but filled with affection.

You froze, your cheeks heating up. "Y-You think so?"

Wonwoo stepped closer, his hands gently landing on your shoulders before he tugged you into a hug. "Of course," he murmured, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. "You smell sweet, like always. But now..." He took a subtle inhale, his arms tightening slightly around you. "Now you smell like me too. I like it."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but snuggle closer, your head pressing into his chest. "I... like it too," you admitted shyly, your voice muffled against him.

He leaned back just enough to tip your chin up, his dark eyes meeting yours. "Good," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You should get used to it."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. "You're so smooth sometimes, you know that?"

He chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Only with you."

The warmth of his shirt enveloped you like a snug cocoon, and with the soft scent of him lingering on the fabric, you couldn't help but feel a little dazed. Wonwoo's shirt was oversized on you, the hem brushing against your thighs as you shifted your weight on the couch. The mix of his scent and the subtle sweetness you naturally carried made the air feel warm and comforting.

He pulled you close again, his large hands gently resting on your waist as he settled back into the cushions. You melted into him effortlessly, his solid chest a perfect pillow. Wonwoo's heartbeat was steady under your cheek, grounding you in the peaceful silence.

"You smell like me now," he murmured, his deep voice low and laced with affection. His lips ghosted against your temple, lingering there in a gentle kiss. "I like it."

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your cheeks flushed from his tender words. "That's unfair," you teased, voice soft as you traced a finger along the line of his jaw. "You keep saying things that make me weak."

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, and his lips quirked into that small, crooked smile that made your heart flutter. "Only because it's true. You look perfect like this." His arms wrapped around you tighter, pulling you into his lap effortlessly.

You let out a happy sigh, curling up against him, your legs draped over his as he rested his chin atop your head. "I don't think I've ever been this comfortable," you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest.

"Good," he replied simply, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. The gesture felt as natural as breathing, his thumb idly stroking your knuckles as the two of you relaxed into each other's warmth.

Sleep was tugging at your eyelids now, the day's tension melting away with every gentle kiss he pressed to your forehead, your hair, and even your bunny ears. You nuzzled closer, letting out the smallest, most content hum, which made Wonwoo's heart skip a beat.

As your breaths evened out, he couldn't resist murmuring, "I'll keep you safe, always." He didn't know if you were awake enough to hear it, but it didn't matter. The words were true, and they hung in the quiet air like a promise.

His shirt wrapped around you, his scent lingering on your skin, and his strong arms holding you tight—it was a kind of peace you hadn't known existed.

And as the night stretched on, the two of you stayed that way—wrapped in each other, hearts beating in perfect rhythm.

a/n: let's all thank anon for the request, especially if you liked it (hope you did) mwa's

[missmisandrytabletalk]

I hate it that soft porn and female nudity has become a norm on every social media platform. there's not been a single time I haven't had to see that bizarre promiscuous content surrounding teenage girls having their nips and bosoms out & don't even get me started with those comment sections which is full of those porn addicts constantly thirsting over them. though the most abominable thing is seeing those young women feel empowered in their own objectification and feeding those incels with exactly what they seek from women. what they fail to understand is that the liberal feminism itself is a hoax and reeks of internalised misogyny. i mean now look where are these young girls and women really heading to? plus these female celebs in the west infuriates me even more for promoting and glorifying the use of OF. and guys.. have you seen the trending shows on netflix recently? i mean more than half of the content is about male sexual fantasies and 365 days-ish eroticas. ofc the male audience is flourishing on such platforms. so appalling and a really high time for us to actually do something about this obnoxious filth taking over the internet.

[quasi-normalcy]

Introducing: "The Blizzard of the World" (A Theory of Magic, book 1)

The problem, of course, is that I don’t understand. Not at all about anything. We physicists liked to say that the universe could still surprise us, but we never really meant it. “Surprises” were supposed to come in the data: a subatomic particle behaving aberrantly; a galaxy three billion lightyears away giving off an unexpected radiation profile. Not technology arbitrarily ceasing to function for no reason. Not magic or fairies or fucking ghosts whispering to us in the dark. The “Shift,” as we’d come to call it, had come over the world gradually. It’s difficult to say precisely when it began—there’d always been a certain “background noise” of unexplained happenings going on in the world, low enough in frequency and intensity that you could ignore it, or reassure yourself that any given instance would prove to be a hoax or have some obscure-but-rational explanation if you just took the time to look into it. And when this background noise started to pick up, the obvious explanation had still been deception: fake news; post-truth politics; new technologies making it easier to doctor video than ever before. Even when an epidemic of disappearances had broken out, it had been easy to assume that it was just mass-media hype; your standard moral panic about traffickers. Electricity and the Internet had started going out and we blamed deregulation; well-established experiments started churning out anomalous results and we blamed planned obsolescence by equipment manufacturers; fish had rained from the sky and we’d blamed climate-change-induced waterspouts. And then a dragon the size of a Hercules plane had landed on Fort Knox and claimed it as its treasure hoard, and suddenly our explanations had failed us. Everything had fallen apart quickly after that. Markets collapsed; riots broke out due to runs on consumer goods; in Switzerland, CERN held a press conference to announce that the laws of physics seemed to have changed—though they couldn’t say how. The last international news that I’d heard before the power had crapped out once and for all had been about a mysterious army of glassy-faced figures in shining armour, coming out of nowhere to march on Washington DC. Three days after that, I’d personally gotten to watch a similar army marching on Parliament Hill here in Ottawa, bringing an unnatural winter in its wake. It’s difficult to overstate the shock of it. On Monday of that week, I had been living in a rational universe governed by perfect, inviolable mathematical laws. By Saturday, I’d become a vassal of someone called the Winter Queen, and reality itself seemed to bow to the whims of petty tyrants. And now, two weeks later, I am cold, I am hungry, and ghosts are real.

Hello everyone! I figured I would take the advice of that post I reblogged above and try putting up a part of my novel on AO3! I'm still planning to serialize it as a podcast, and I already have a publisher lined up, but I want to see how it plays with the crowd here.

[bixbythemartian]

walrus vs. fairy

the funny part is that people who answer walrus are mostly like 'I disagree, but I understand why you would answer fairy' and the people who answered fairy are tearing their hair out. some of them are getting mad and/or mean about it, which is kind of upsetting.

so, I will try to help explain.

this will not be about walrus logistics, I promise.

some people believe in fairies. full stop.

fully believe they are real. probably a lot more people than you would be happy about, but you have to allow for this to be true.

even among those who don't wholeheartedly believe in fairies, there's a lot more people who are agnostic about fairies.

people willing to admit that they're not sure if fairies are real, but willing to hedge on the side of maybe the fairies are real.

like, if you rephrased the question 'would you be more surprised to see an angel or a walrus at your door' you would probably be less surprised to see that people would be more shocked at the walrus, because you probably already understand that a lot of people believe in angels and consider them real, whether or not you believe in angels personally

also the SPN fandom would go ham on that, probably. (this is said with deep affection)

there was a fairly famous road built in Ireland that got rerouted because there was a bush that was important to fairies. (source) the fairy tree stalled the plans for the road for a fucking decade. this happened in my lifetime. people talked about it happening on the internet as it was happening, it's not some weird thing that happened in the middle of nowhere in the 1950s or something. they agreed to go around the damned bush in 1999. I know that seems a long time ago to some of y'all, but it really, really isn't.

there are still people who think the cottingley fairies were real. not a huge amount, but I hope enough to make my point- there's some people who believe in fairies so much and want them to be real so much that they think a famous prank (hoax is stretching it, imo, these girls were pranking their families and the press kind of coincidentally got involved) proves the existence of fairies.

there's a lot, lot, lot more people who believe in fairies and also will admit the cottingley fairies weren't real. the cottingley fairy truthers are a small a percentage of the people who believe in fairies.

I cannot emphasize enough that there are plenty of people who believe fairies are real and even more that could be very easily convinced that fairies are real

people have believed in fairies and been superstitious about fairies for a long, long fucking time

setting aside all of that

some people are more likely to see a thing that isn't real at their door than they are to see a living fucking walrus at their door.

fevers, migraines, mental stress, sleep deprivation (especially if you have sleep disorders, like insomnia or narcolepsy), and infection (among a very long list of other things), and prescription medication side effects can all cause visual hallucinations, and they're all states that you might not be aware that you're in when you start to see weird shit.

these are just the really mundane ones I plucked up off the list.

I have experienced hallucinations due to sleep dep and insomnia. unfortunately, for me, this manifested as a spider the size of a border collie (I wish I were joking) and not fairies, but fairies is a possibility that cannot be counted out.

I'm way more likely to have sleep deprivation and a migraine and a fever all at once than I am to see a walrus in person at a zoo, much less at my door.

it has happened before. it will happen again. it's happening right fucking now.

the fairies can have my birth name if they will take away my migraine.

just putting that out there.

I've never seen a walrus in person at all. I would like to, but it's not likely. there's not any in any of the zoos nearby that I could find.

current likelihood of me seeing a fairy on my doorstep is significantly higher than me seeing a fucking walrus. I am in a physical state where I have had visual hallucinations before, and it's not impossible I will have them again. I would not be particularly surprised, even.

as long as it's not the goddamn massive spider. I even like most spiders, but that is too much spider.

[victoria-rue]

victoria-rue's Recommendation Masterlist part 3

Okay, so, this is my third masterlist. And each masterlist has about 50 stories, so 100+ stories in total. All I'm saying is I might have a problem, but these authors deserve recognition for their amazing works of art. They deserve to be spread out to more people, even if there's only a small amount people that see this. These authors deserve the world ♥︎

Recommendation Masterlist part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, & part 5

Marvel

Miles Morales

❝ white lies ❞ by @berriweb

LINK UP by @qkopi

you loved your boyfriend miles, you really do. he was everything you could ask for; he was handsome, gentle, and very caring towards you like a good boyfriend should be… but there’s also times where he would cancel dates out of nowhere and that would leave you to be disappointed and go home bored. miles then tried to make it up to you by planning to hangout at his place this today, but things go sideways when his twin brother decides to take things into his own hands..

Bereavement by @famwhy

Miles is missing, and all you can think about is getting him back. Upon finally finding him, however, you're taken aback by the copy that stands beside him—the same copy that was staring at you with wide, shaking eyes full of... disbelief?

Peter Parker

Part Of Your World by @waitimcomingtoo

Peter meets a girl who dreams of being where the people are

hoax by @waitimcomingtoo

when Peter strikes out with you but discovers you’re a fan of his alter ego, he gets you tangled in his web of lies

Miguel O'Hara

Across the Street by @quaintii

It's been a couple weeks since a new family moved in, across the street. You go pay them a visit with an offer.

The game of cat and spider by @lucywrites02

You are a criminal and he's a hero. You don't know each other's names, never seen the person behind the mask. You aren't enemies- you are supposed to be but that didn't work out quite well. You liked each other a bit too much,  but your relationship was strictly…. Professional? What happens if you meet as normal people, with no masks and responsibilities in your way? What did the universe plan for you? And most importantly…. Will it last?

Daddy Issues by @drefear

Halo by @missdictatorme

You are an AI designed by Miguel. He gave you a unique voice, one he knew he would like listening to. He didn't really gave much thought to how you looked like when he made you a hologram form, he just choose a random picture of a woman from the internet. What happens when you ask for permission to design your own look?

Web of Secrets by @liliacamethyst

Bittersweet Devotion by @diejager

IGOR by @papuhater

Bucky Barnes

i never thought you’d happen to me by @nickfowlerrr

Wade Wilson

Here’s To Us by @baka-bakeneko

Wade's street neighbor needs to use Wade's hot water.

Marc Spector + Steven Grant + Jake Lockley

Already over. by @m00nsbaby

With You by @ivystoryweaver

Eddie Brock/Venom

RUSH HOUR by @ghostheartfelt

you meet eddie during morning rush hour, vv understanding man who admires your connection with your customers and dedication towards your job. eddie's hungry for chocolate (n you), you pique interest in the host and his symbiote.

Miles Morales, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Peter Parker (Spider-Noir)

THIS IS A LIFE by @mo0nfairy

in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

Detroit Become Human

Connor RK800

Criminal Analysis by @gogogodzilla

You never pictured this life for yourself. Never pictured that android cases would start piling up and you'd be assigned to figure out why they were deviating. You were a forensic psychologist hired by the Detroit Police Department as a consultant. You usually dealt with figuring out what made suspects tick and why they did what they did. You figured it'd be the same thing, as usual, that is until a certain android walked into your crime scene and completely turned your life upside down.

The Hunger Games

Finnick Odair

Finnick Odair series by @daisyjonesgf

midnight rain (Book One)

finnick had pulled the plug on your relationship long ago, when he could no longer keep from you what he'd been forced into. but after you've returned victorious from your games, he knows you need him as the nightmares come for you each time you close your eyes.

the lakes (Book Two)

it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

the river (Book Three)

the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

Avatar

Jake Sully

A Child of the Stars by @berry-blue03

you are Jake Sully's six year old daughter, who goes with him to Pandora. Takes place during the first Avatar movie

Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyo'itan

Do you hate me? by @byunpum

You are the eldest Sully daughter, you are adopted. All your life you have grown up watching tsu'tey, and your feelings for him have grown. Everything changes when one day you go hunting with your crush.

Miles Quaritch

Sweet like cherry by @pandoraslxna

Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Damsel, let me de-stress you… by @quaritchsluts

Y/N te Suli Neytiri’ite is captured and imprisoned by Colonel Miles Quaritch and his squad, alongside her childhood friend - Spider - when attempting to aid her younger siblings whom were cornered by the recom team when exploring the woods. As Jake Sully’s eldest child, she knows it won’t be long until her father bites back at the recombinants, as does Miles. Because, how dare he take his precious daughter? His firstborn? So, with the odds against him — as well as the clock — and not to mention the displeased dad on his tail, Miles knows he must do whatever it takes to get all the information out of her that he can. Whatever it takes.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

Ghost girl by @byunpum

After their village was destroyed by humans, Y/N must seek refuge in the forest. Her being rescued by a peculiar family, she discovering that her gift had led her to them.

i remember her hands. and the way the mountains looked. by @vampsywrites

In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Jealousy by @eyweveng

You have a secret relationship with Neteyam but find out terrible news from your bestfriend.

~To You He Feels Like Home~ by @ghoul-bonez

You were born to the forest, wild by nature, wild by nurture, and surely wild in spirit. Your animal family had always warned you about strangers, the odd people who looked like you, but when one approaches you, you can’t help but be curious. When your curiosity wears off and you deem him weird enough you’re convinced you’ll never see him again, but Eywa has other plans.

Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

twin flames by @saintsstranger

Eywa has bonded the Son of the Forest and Daughter of Ember over the pain and grief towards the Sky People.

Ao’nung

Fated Mates by @anemonelovesfiction

-stars- by @adhdduckie

When Y/N, and the sullys first reach the reef, a boy catches her eye, and she does her best to catch his attention. She doesn't believe he likes her back, and she thinks it's ridiculous that she's so whipped for this boy. He seems to have no interest in her.

Ronal & Tonowari

Connection by @blue-sadie

Traveling with the sullys to the Metkayina village and tonowari and ronal falling in love with you at first sight and feeling a connection to you.

Neteyam & Lo'ak

Reunion by @yourstrulybluelover

The Sullys have been away for years. They have just returned to the Forrest, not only bringing with them joy and hope but also uprooting masked feelings.

"The Love Shack" by @vivid-ink

You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers. And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself… You were definitely curious, but did you have it in you to go through with their proposition?…

Actors

Jamie Flatters

ALL THINGS CONNECTED by @yawneneteyam

growing up on set together, y/n and jamie share their love for one another through the only way they know.. filmmaking

Time Wasters

Ralph Penbury

Worth It by @wheels-of-despair

Your mother forces you to go to a Valentine's Day dance with a dull date, but Ralph manages to make your night worthwhile.

Scream

Ethan Landry

Perverted by @demontonic

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 by @n-slayaaaaa

Seeing the Core Four years after an explosive argument ended your friendship brought about plenty of unwelcome emotions—can you let the past go or has your plan for healing old wounds gone too far?

obsessed by @messylustt

getting a call from ghostface is never good. especially when you find out who lives under the mask—the dorky boy who you drunkenly kissed one night.

a father’s malice by @shadesslut

After the Ghostface attacks, Y/N tried her best to move on from Ethan with raising their son, but things get harder after Ethan gets out of jail.

Billy & Stu

Of Friends and Horror by @grimoireofhayley

You have been best friends with Billy Loomis since you both were in diapers, however, when high school hit, Billy's mom had filed for divorce and had left his father. His dad was miserable even in marriage, hence his continuous affairs with Maureen Prescott. Though, after the divorce and his mother leaving, Billy has been different since; He started dating Sidney Prescott, the late Mrs. Prescott's daughter. He never showed an interest in her until now… But why?

The Last Airbender

Zuko

rotations by @reinerispretty

written during the prime of the atla rennaissance (summer 2020), (y/n) is a child of the fire nation aristocracy and a close friend to prince zuko. as circumstances drive the two apart, she finds them thrown back together. this time on opposite sides of a war.

Daughter of the Spirits by @jettingtothemoon

In which y/n comes across the fire nation prince during her stay in Ba Sing Se.

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

Against All Odds by @and-claudia

Look For the Light by @cowgurrrl

When you left Boston with Joel Miller and a little girl named Ellie, you never thought it would land you in Jackson, Wyoming with a tiny family.

sun bleached flies by @sempersirens

stumbling upon the settlement of jackson whilst 4 months pregnant had almost felt too good to be true. for the past seven years, you had been able to raise your daughter, mia, surrounded by a safe and supportive community. however, your small slice of paradise came tumbling down the day joel miller arrived. despite only crossing paths for a fleeting encounter all those years ago, you would never forget the face of your daughter's father.

Strawberries and Cigarettes by @hischeapcigar

you're falling in love with the person your dad hates the most

mine by @moeswriting

Joel is suddenly the 22-year-old single dad of a four-year-old with no one to help support her but himself. He gets a job as a waiter in a diner downtown to make ends meet. One day, you come in-- a tired, overworked college student with a past that haunts you-- in need of break from the rain. He decides right then and there that he is yours for the rest of your lives.

WHEREVER YOU GO by @myownwholewildworld

after the events of 26th september 2003, you find yourself under the wing of the miller brothers. it's the older one who catches your attention, but also the one who drives you fucking crazy. you inevitably find yourself gravitating towards him while trying to navigate this postapocalyptic world you're stuck in, with more than one unpleasant surprise…

Abby Anderson

dream of us in a year by @peachglazewrites

Eight months ago, you sustained a life-altering injury while on patrol. Five months ago, you were officially dismissed from your unit and, after a tense meeting with Isaac, were transferred to the medical centre to train under your friend/roommate, Mel. Four months ago, you offered your couch to Abby to sleep on whenever she got kicked from her apartment for Manny's ‘sleepovers’. Two months ago, you started sleeping in the same bed. It works, this arrangement you have. She just doesn’t know that just over twelve months ago, you started to fall in love with her.

[9w1ft]

wow your gaylor anon does sound well-meaning, but very lost on this blog from their usual side of the internet I’d guess!

I’m particularly bamboozled by those three songs being used as kaylor breakup evidence. well, less so exile, I can see how they got there even if I have a different interpretation of it (mourning the called-off coming out, and having to go deeper into the love blackout, ruminating on the fans view of her closet). but mtr!? clearly about scott b! the stolen lullabies, the jewels she gave him as his main cash cow? the pain of that betrayal by a father figure!! also the funeral procession choreo - ties nicely into your point about taylor wearing black for the stolen masters. there’s also a long history of writing romantic-coded ‘break up songs’ for your label, think dolly parton etc. and mad woman?! the obvious scooter and yael diss track where taylor outs his cheating (which potentially contributed to their divorce not long after). does anon completely miss the feminist angle of ‘this man gaslights me by calling me mad and overreactive, so I’ll show him a real mad woman’ ???? (+ karlie as the taylor-faced neighbour who secretly mouths ‘fuck you’ at him)

I know we’re all known for reaching in the gaylor-sphere, but by occam’s razor, I feel like you have to do some real twisting to believe those ones aren’t about those men.

(I actually wrote out my personal interpretation of each song in more depth but it’s wayy too long, and probably just a repeat of opinions anon could find on this blog and others in this ecosystem. anon has given me far too many thoughts to write on my lunch break rn lol)

yeah i didn’t address the song choices but mtr is a wild one for sure. and mad woman i’ve talked about a lot but really i think that song is actually proof in favor of the idea that they didn’t break up in 2019. plus the thing about the i can and i will necklace.

exile too, especially when you couple it with the other bon iver duet (evermore) and think about the context of the election in 2016 (upon which karlie got exiled in a way) and again in 2020 (taylor connected evermore to the feeling of knowing biden would win over trump, and knowing the pain wouldn’t be for evermore), and idk it just makes so much sense in the context of how their relationship would have had to adapt and change over the years, without having to be about breaking up.

i’m not saying anon thinks any one certain way but i do think that gaylors in general have, of their own volition and they’re happy to tell you, positioned gaylorism as something focused on the exploration of the gayness of taylor’s lyrics and of it being ‘museless’ and i would suggest that while there is value to this sort of think in a vacuum, by refuting other analysis unfortunately this ‘lens’ often makes for a contextless interpretation of so many of taylor’s songs. like if you think about the political angle and the times taylor was in or karlie was in throughout this specific span of time, a lot of these sad song just make so much sense! maathp makes sense! maroon makes sense! exile makes sense, hoax makes sense, mad woman makes sense, vigilante shit makes sense, any number of songs make a whole lot of sense. i don’t think that this is something offensive to taylor like… in essence kaylor is an attempt to understand the impetus behind the artist, her motivations, and what inspired her to create so much of this art. idk, im babbling a bit again it’s just. ahh… there’s just so much meaning that gets lost in the gaylor process i feel.

[wreck-it-hell]

Here they are, my Wreck it Ralph OCs! I'm sorry about the ugly group photo, I drew them all separately but decided to put them together to make posting them easier. I love them all and I hope you guys like em too!

(EDIT 9/30: Fucked around and made another, meet Cal E-)

Character specific tidbits under the cut because it's a lot lol

Queen Sweetie - From Sugar Rush, her royal highness certainly has a sweet heart! Always wanting what’s best for her people, Sweetie is a motherly monarch with a passion for racing (surprise). She’s more level headed than King Candy, but isn’t totally serious herself and she tends to miss certain details sometimes. She knows the rules like the back of her hand and doesn’t take kindly to cheating…though if you pull the right strings, she might let you off easy. She is a sweetie, after all!

Bolt - This live wire’s from Turbotime, and she was once known for being quite fast on the racetrack - not as fast as Turbo, but still. After Turbotime got unplugged, however, she tends to hide in Game Central Station, though she can be found in Tapper’s some nights. She was always a little brash even when her game was plugged in, but with the grief of losing her game AND her cousin, it may be a bit before she opens up fully…but once she does, she’s got a dry sense of humor and an oddly friendly personality only some see.

Warley Lockhallow - From Holi-DAZE, this warlock represents Halloween; fittingly so, he’s mischievous and has some tricks up his sleeve! With hexes and hoaxes by the dozen, Warley's always looking for something to do because he never sits still. He gets bored rather easily and is almost always up to mischief, however he never intends any harm. He's just looking for a fun time, wherever that may be!

Valerie Fondore - This cute cupid's also from Holi-DAZE, representing Valentine's Day. She's got a heart of gold and when she isn't flinging heart arrows during combat, she’s painting or writing poetry. Despite having a big heart and loving romance, she understands it isn't everyone's thing. Doesn't stop her from expressing her affections - she just changes them accordingly! She even finds herself falling for a certain bad guy down the line…

Loadetta - Hailing from the internet, Loadetta's job is making pages load (wow). It's simple enough: like a telephone operator at a switchboard, all she has to do is pair the links to the proper pages. She loves her job; problem is, she's also a major daydreamer and tends to get lost in her own head. Overall she's a sweet - if ditzy - netizen who is always willing to help in any way she can.

Jetta Splosion - The littlest firecracker from Holi-DAZE, Jetta represents the 4th of July. She isn’t necessarily patriotic, but she does love her fireworks - and she isn't afraid to use them when she’s fighting! Outside of her game though, she's a little shy around those she doesn't know. Once she warms up though, she's a peppy ball of energy whose loyalty knows no bounds.

Cal E. Crumble - Naturally, candy karts tend to break far easier than normal cars…which is where Cal. E comes in! As Sugar Rush’s mechanic, she’s got every tool - from mint wrenches to Twizzler jumper cords - to get any confectionary kart up and running. She’s got the personality to match too; one tough cookie, but she’s got a sweet center and a chatty demeanor.

[mightyflamethrower]

Donald Trump won the 2024 election in part because the left’s hysterical style of attacking Trump no longer worked.

After a decade of this unhinged furor, it proved worthless in winning public support—and for two simple reasons.

One, after years of Russian collusion hoaxes, the laptop disinformation farce, and the warped lies about the “suckers” and “fine people on both sides”—the shrill left became predictable.

So, the bored public began tuning them out, switching channels, hitting the mute button, and pulling the plug.

Like the deleterious effects of inflation that eventually render a currency worthless, nonstop hectoring, hysterics, pontification, and distortion finally made all such criticisms of Trump mostly as valueless as 1930s German marks.

Second, the wearied public never heard reasoned counterarguments from the likes of a Rachel Maddow. Instead, on spec, she kept mouthing, “The walls are closing in” on Trump.

Joe Biden did not explain why his open border was a better idea than Trump’s closed one. He preferred mumbling about “semi-fascists!” and “ultra-MAGA!”

The Never Trumpers did not critique the Trump deficits. Instead, they hammered away that Trump was Hitler, or Mussolini, or Putin—or just a dangerous dictator or autocrat.

Angry retired generals never demonstrated why Trump was, in their view, an existential threat to democracy. Instead, they shouted nonstop in op-eds and interviews that he was a fascist, Nazi-like, no different from the guards at Auschwitz, a pathological liar, and should be summarily removed.

Worn-out voters began to understand these psychodramas were substitutes for substantive criticism or occasions for legitimate debate.

Indeed, the exhausted public finally concluded that the hysterics increased in direct proportion to the poverty of the charges.

So, what did ten years of such derangement achieve for the left?

Trump now has control of the White House and both houses of Congress operate under Republican majorities.

The Supreme Court is mostly conservative. Almost all of Trump’s issues—the border, immigration, the economy, foreign policy, and crime—poll well over 50 percent.

No matter, the left is still hammering away at the trivial and irrelevant—and remains paralyzed in furor and hysterics.

When Snoop Dogg performed for the Trump inauguration, Ann Navarro of The View, in racist fashion, called the African-American rapper “a trained seal.”

When Pete Hegseth went before the Senate for confirmation as Secretary of Defense nominee, Democrats asked almost nothing about nuclear strategy, recruitment shortfalls, or a paucity of artillery shells.

Instead, what followed were animated gotcha lectures about Hegseth’s prior adultery.

No sooner had Hegseth finished his successful audit than the left rounded up his former sister-in-law, now divorced from his brother.

A hardcore Democrat, she confessed she wanted his nomination rejected. She further claimed—with no evidence—that she had “heard” from his ex-wife that Hegseth was a wife-beater.

His former wife immediately denied the charges. She pointed to their prior divorce settlement that recorded neither had ever lodged such a complaint against the other.

Next, the left went after Elon Musk. Recently, he had finished an address by touching his heart and then extending his arm out to the crowd.

To the left, that greeting now became proof of a “Nazi salute.”

Yet in no time, the internet cited photos of Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama, and Elizabeth Warren all extending their stiff arms out in identical fashion to Musk.

We were next told by critics that Donald Trump was not technically president because he did not place his left hand on the Bible as he swore his presidential oath.

The Constitution, of course, demands no such act. But it does explicitly state that no religious test shall be required to hold public office.

During a National Prayer Service for newly sworn-in President Trump, the Episcopal bishop of Washington D.C., Mariann Budde, hijacked the sermon. She rebuked Trump—sitting right in front of her—because he supposedly had portrayed illegal aliens and transgendered children “in the harshest of lights.”

Budde later bragged that had she used the occasion to sandbag Trump with a “one-on-one conversation.”

She talked grandly of mercy, but not of the thousands of Americans who have been physically assaulted or attacked by illegal aliens, or tens of thousands of deaths due to illegally imported fentanyl, or the unfairness of open borders to legal immigrant applicants, or the suffering of our citizen poor when their social services are overwhelmed by some 12 million illegal entries of the last four years.

In sum, the left wants no debate because they know voters have rejected what they saw and suffered during the last four years of the Biden administration.

Forgetting nothing, learning nothing, like zombies, leftists keep screaming banalities. But like addicts and their feel-good fixes, their hysterics only further turn off the public as they destroy themselves.

[resurrected-poets-society]

It'll be fine

Gone down a rabbit hole Another dawn, another day Shit don't feel so good anymore

Legs giving out, too much running After desires, ambitions I've never felt so overwhelmed before

But I've got my friends by my side I've got my family Right beside me I've got me, myself and I I know I'll be fine

It's just another mystery For another day It's just another hoax On the internet No need to believe something You've thought of only once or twice It'll all be fine

Wanting more, wanting less Betraying and forgiving each other It's just a part of life they say But why's it so hard to understand?

But I've got my friends by my side I've got my family Right beside me I've got me, myself and I I know I'll be fine

It's just another mystery For another day It's just me overthinking Every bit of it 'Cause that's just how life is Good or bad, It'll be fine in the end

It's just another mystery For another day It's just a little tipping  The jar over the edge It shouldn't bug anybody Not even me 'Cause it'll be fine Alright?

It's just a little too much Sometimes And that's fine (oh)

It's alright to feel So overwhelmed It's alright to feel So much doubt It's okay to get By with your day It'll be alright in the end Yeah, it'll be fine in the end  (Yeah, I'll be fine)

-Calliope (A Resurrected Poets' Society pledge)

[misfitwashere]

The Submission Chain

The Transitive Property and Trump

TIMOTHY SNYDER

NOV 14

To normalize what is happening is to take part in the regime change.  For a writer, normalization means pretending that the same concepts that once applied still do apply.  When we do that, we destroy the concepts. 

For an unfamiliar politics we will need experimentation.  Two essays ago, this meant reconsidering a historical cliché; last time, it meant a sitcom pitch; this time, we will do some applied math.

You might remember the transitive property.  If one number (x) is lesser than another number (y) and (y) is lesser than (z), then we can be certain that (x) is lesser than (z).  Or: if x < y and y < z, then x < z. 

The mathematical notation can help us define a submission chain: who submits to whom in the Trumpian oligarchy.  If we can lay this out plainly, we might see some openings for understanding -- and for action.  And so, to begin:

Trump voters  <  Trump

Trump voters have chosen a Leader, someone with a story.  Many of them believe that he is a billionaire, that he won the election of 2020, that Russia had nothing to do with it, that Haitians in Ohio eat cats, and so on.  In other words, many of them believe in lies that, at some level, they know to be lies.  This is submission; living inside someone else's story always is.  And thus many Trump voters are choosing to be manipulated in a certain kind of venture, one in which politics must be about division (sorry, more math!).  If politics begins from lies and you accept that, you can always "own" the other side, because they will be upset not only by your winning but also by the lies you repeat.  For many Trump voters, this is what power means: "owning the libs." 

I remember the first time I heard this phrase: in rural southwestern Ohio, in 2016.  And what I thought then was: just because he upsets other Americans, how does that help you?  How does that help our country?  "Owning the libs" does not get us far in international politics. Usually democratic power is about multiplication: we bring people together, we can pass some laws, people might benefit.  But Trump's domestic power is division, making America much weaker than it would be in foreign affairs.  The United States is strong as a republic (flawed though that republic might be).  It is weaker when its ruler aspires to be a divider and a dictator.  And thus the very power that Trump voters see in Trump is, seen from any external perspective, weakness.  This is how the next step of the formula is possible:

Trump voters <  Trump  < Putin, therefore Trump voters < Putin

At this point the Trump voters protest!  The moment the subject Russia is raised, Trump supporters defend their submission to Trump by defending him from the charge that he is submissive to Russia.  They have been trained to use the word "hoax," which emerges like an auto-response to the word "Russia."  Trump supporters (and Russians pretending to be Trump supporters on the internet) have bullied the press with the "hoax" taunt for so long and so hard that media seem frightened of the subject, even though every serious journalist who has worked on the subject knows that Russia backs Trump and has backed Trump for years and years. 

The "hoax" taunt, incidentally, or perhaps not so incidentally, is what the Russians call "reflexive control."  A psychological environment is created in which you do not what you want to do but what Russia wants you to do.  You know that if you write about Russia's persistent and obvious backing of Donald Trump, a chorus of "hoax" will follow you.  And so you do not do it.  And so, even when Russia blatantly interfered in this presidential election on election day by way of bomb threats to dozens precincts with Democratic majorities, this got little attention.  This reflex does so much work these days that even new and obvious examples of Russian support for Trump get absorbed by it! 

Trump knows that Russia's backing of him is not a hoax, and Putin knows that it is not a hoax.  Russia's support for him is so much on Trump's mind that he seeks to appoint as CIA director someone who believes will expunge the record of what Trump called in the announcement "fake Russian collusion."  In fact, the CIA at the time, along with all other US intelligence agencies, judged that Russia had intervened to support the Trump campaign.  After the election, the evidence only mounted.  I wrote an entire book that led to this episode (Road to Unfreedom), tracing its sources back to ideological changes in Russia and technological changes that allowed for the intervention.  The Mueller Report, though little read and dismissed, actually makes the case quite indisputably that Russia supported Trump; indeed, even its critics did not directly question that, but rather focused on the idea that it did not prove collusion.  This was not really true, either; there was plenty of collusion, but Mueller thought that this was better left for an impeachment than a prosecution, which got us into the square dance of legal irresponsibility around Trump in which we still find ourselves.

One can debate the sources of Trumps submissiveness to Putin.  Is it mainly all the money made from the licensing agreements?  Is it mainly admiration for the billionaire oligarch, something that Trump clearly wants to be?  Is it mainly gratitude for the electoral assistance, for the favor that Russia now explicitly calls in?  Is it a more complicated manipulation of Trump's ego, combining elements of all these?  Or is it that the Russians are actually capable of blackmailing him directly, as people who spend time with him tend to believe?  Is it now that Trump and Musk and Putin, in all of their calls these last two years, have cooked up something between themselves?  Whatever the causes, the results up to now have been unmistakable.  Trump portrays Putin as a great leader, says that he trusts him more than his own advisors, praises his invasion of Ukraine as "brilliant," and now proposes a defender of Putinism as director of national intelligence. 

There is no conceivable argument from US national interests to propose Tulsi Gabbard for that most critical position.  She has zero relevant experience. The only thing for which she is known is her support of Putin (and Assad). Her candidacy is, quite literally, a proposal that can only have emerged in Moscow, where she is known as a "Russian agent" or as "our girlfriend."

Trump voters <  Trump  < Putin < Xi, therefore Trump voters <  Xi

Trump voters, of course, would resist this formula, and so would the pro-Trump elite.  Surely Trump, if nothing else, is a China hawk?  Yet whatever Trump might say, he cannot possibly mount a policy that deters China if he is submissive to Putin.  The Russian leader is in an inferior position to the Chinese leader; Russia's war on Ukraine has reduced Putin very much to the position of beseeching client.  So to be Putin's client, as Trump very much appears to be, is also to be Xi's. 

But I don't insist on this just as a logical consequence of the transitive property of submission.  The relationship is concrete and specific and has to do with Ukraine.  If Trump submits to Putin on Ukraine, he not only demonstrates that he is incapable of dealing with China, he surrenders in advance to China. 

This logic is clear to essentially everyone in the world except Americans, who tend to see themselves as only having bilateral relationships with other countries, and to always be in the dominant role.  We might imagine that we are in a bilateral relationship with Ukraine, and with Russia, and with China, and can do as we choose with respect to each.  But these relationships are deeply intertwined. 

Ukrainian resistance deters China in way that we cannot deter China ourselves.  Virtually anything the United States does to deter China can be seen as provocative.  Simply by defending itself, however, Ukraine demonstrates that offensive operations are difficult and unpredictable.  Should Trump submit to Putin and try to force Ukraine to surrender, this deterrent affect disappears. 

And of course China is watching what we do (again, whether we realize this or not!).  Not only in Beijing but in all the world beyond America's allies the thinking is essentially such: if the United States cannot help to defend Ukraine, which is an easy case, there is no way that the United States would help to defend Taiwan. 

Why is Ukraine an easy case?  Because we have no troops in Ukraine and never will; because the case fits perfectly our explicit commitment to defending democracy; and because we enjoy, with our allies, an overwhelming economic advantage over Russia.  And so, if the United States tries to surrender Ukraine to Putin, this is not only submission to XI, it is an invitation to a far broader war, one that might have been deterred simply by continuing to back Ukraine.

I write "tries to surrender Ukraine to Russia" advisedly.  Ukraine is not ours to surrender.  Trump can himself surrender, but he cannot surrender on behalf of Ukraine.  And precisely because Trump has been to persistently submissive in his dealings with Putin, the Russians assume that his opening offer, whatever it is, can be improved by ignoring him or abusing him. 

Putin and his Kremlin subordinates are certainly mocking Trump at the moment: denying that a phone call took place when Trump says it did; escalating viciously in Ukraine after Trump claimed that he told Putin not to escalate; showing pornographic photographs of Trump's wife on Russian state television; suggesting that Trump owes his presidency to Russia (Patrushev); predicting that Trump will be assassinated if he does not do Russia's bidding (Medvedev).  All of this emphasizes Trump < Putin. 

But for Putin this is also in some sense a bluff.  The war in Ukraine, although horrible costly for the Ukrainian defenders, is also a disaster for Russia.  The Russians are taking horrible losses for minor advances.  They are using North Korean soldiers in a battle to try to regain Russian territory from Ukrainians.  If, when Russia began its full-scale invasion in February 2022, someone had forecast that "in about three years, Russia will be deploying North Koreans to try to retake Ukrainian-occupied portions of Kursk oblast" that would have seemed insane.  But that is where we are.  The Russians have been telling themselves for two years that a Trump victory will mean their victory in Ukraine, and they will no doubt try to prove themselves right.  Continuing the offensive and bullying Trump are two sides of the same coin. 

Theoretically, Trump could break out of this logic.  As the Ukrainians keep trying to remind us, Russia will only seek peace if it believes that it is losing.  Russia will only believe that if the United States aids Ukraine more rather than less.  But this is impossible so long as it remains the case that Trump  < Putin, so long as that part of the submission chain holds.  And so long as that link is unbroken, it also remains true that Trump < Xi.  There can be no successful China policy without the right Ukraine policy.  And, so long as that is the case, Trump voters < Xi, whether they like it or not.  This is not what they voted for, and not what the Trumpist elite promised, but it will be the case.

To be sure, the transitive property of submission does not capture everything about domestic and international politics.  But I believe that it does capture something quite important that conventional thinking might not.  We will never understand the choice of Tulsi Gabbard in terms of democracy or national interest or by any of the familiar concepts.  It does make sense as part of a submission chain (or on Oligarchs' Island). 

By making ourselves smaller than we need to be at home, we also make ourselves smaller than we might like to be abroad.  If we have a president who considers himself an aspiring dictator among real dictators, the United States is weak where it might have been strong.  When we enter the personalistic kinds of relationships that Trump favors and claims to thrive in, we find ourselves in a submissive position that no one ever actually wanted -- no one, except for Trump, Putin, and Xi.

[anonymous-dentist]

I know that you as an american will not understand my question but i need to get it off my chest

Does breaking dawn!cellbit belives on the existence of the "chupa-cu" from goianinha?

What, this thing?

Probably not. He doesn’t even believe in vampires, let alone internet hoaxes.

Little dude is a little cute though lol kinda looks like a monkey made of corn husks, I love it

[pinkorchidsinspring]

Ivy is so so gay, to explain let us lyric analyze:

How's one to know? I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones, In a faith forgotten land

Hoax: “your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in”

A complicated relationship with religion is not something lacking throughout gay culture.

Taylor is more than likely referencing her own struggle with her relationship to a religion not approving of her sexuality.

Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, Tarnished but so grand

The lovers touch while beautiful, was a sin, and wrong in the view of most but to Taylor this touch was amazing despite being tainted with those ideas.

Oh, goddamn, My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand, Taking mine, but it's been promised to another

This is probably a reference to the "adultery" being committed here, because the narrator has a fiancé/beard.

Oh, I can't, Stop you putting roots in my dreamland

She can’t control this love.

Her dreamland of “Folklore” is based in her real, honest, raw emotions.

She can’t stop this lover from being the reason for this dreamland.

I wish to know, The fatal flaw that makes you long to be, Magnificently cursed

Being gay has never been easy, and early on makes everyone who is gay in any way, wonder why they can’t just be straight. Taylor has most likely dealt with her own version of internalized homophobia shown in the original version of “Picture to Burn”: “Go and tell your friends that I'm obsessive and crazy, that's fine; I'll tell mine you're gay”.

Clover blooms in the fields, Spring breaks loose, the time is near, What would he do if he found us out?

This whole paragraph just gives forbidden gay love, and screams I don't want to care what other people think in this moment.

Crescent moon, coast is clear

Again with the hiding in “coast is clear”

Associated with feminine energy??? Combined with the coast is clear??? Yep, screams hetero.

Spring breaks loose, but so does fear

So very gay. Very gay. Come on. Sound like recent political events in America? With the turn of a new season, fear, specifically fear of being caught together, or the media finding out becomes more relevant than normal.

He's gonna burn this house to the ground

This male partner/beard is going to ruin their relationship, completely out of fear of what would happen if the truth of who she loved came out.

I'd live and die for moments that we stole, On begged and borrowed time

Even though this love was kept a secret, it was still Taylor’s whole life at the time.

These moments were "on begged and borrowed time" due to outside pressure. Possibly the pressure to be straight, and to appear straight, and not have longing looks directed at your "best friend".

So yeah, it's a fire, It's a goddamn blaze in the dark, And you started it, You started it, So yeah, it's a war

You Are In Love: “You understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars”

The Great War -so LGBTQIA

She finally understands that she has to fight through societies pressures to keep the love of her life.

It's the goddamn fight of my life

What would be so hard about being straight and in love with Joe Alwyn? Especially when you’re only known for writing break up songs about “men”…

Most recently while introducing “Dear, John” Taylor told swifties that : we should not “feel the need to defend [her] on the internet against someone [we] think [she] might have written a song about 14 billion years ago."

There are many things that don’t allow this song to have a hetero explanation. These are the things. <3

My other song analysis’ if you’re interested <3

[popculturebuffet]

Pirate Month III: We Lost Our Gold (Comission by WeirdKev27)

Arrgh all you happy swabs and welcome back to PIrate MOnth, our cleebration of everything piraty. eeyyyarrgh.

We're almost at the end and it's time for the return of an institution. Muppet Madness is back... and we've dropped the monthly as sometimes there's simply something else I want to do and trying to force it wasn't working. Thankfully we've come back with a whopper We Lost Our Gold

We Lost Our Gold is a 2010 puppet series by creators Vincent Bova and Damien Eckhardt-Jacobi, two pupeeteers with more than a little muppet energy to them. The two had previously made, and were still making at the time of this series Glove and Boots, another youtube show about a red muppet and his beaver pal covering various topics. I'd heard of Glove and Boots going into this but wasn't told it was by the same guys

Glove and Boots is one I'd actually considered covering on here and plan to now in 2025 in some form, and you can smell their hallmarks: the human puppets are the same they used, Mulligan of WLOG uses the same voice as Mario and has about the same personality, and Mario and Fava even guest star in episode 2.

The series was brought out of a need for promotoin: The two pupetteers wanted to draw more eyes to their work so they came up with a zany scheme I love: they took out ten thousand dollars in us coins, buired that heavy amount of money in a treasure chest, put a skull and crowbones on it and left clues. Then they shot 8 shorts starring a group of hapless pirates who lost the chest, seeding in clues to the chest. It's one of the most audacious stunts i've seen and deserves praise. They buired in in New York, made that clear and then... no one found it.

Yeah while many came close no one quite put the clues together, some deriding it as fake.. which it very much wasn't but is understandable given how hoax filled the internet is.. though given they SHOWED the chest at a few points and how hard it'd be to photoshop 10,000 us coins, I think it was safe to assume they were on the level and they were.

They eventually had to give up on it three years later for very understandable real life reasons: Hurrican Sandy ripped thorugh new york, tearing up the landscape and thus not only destroying their clues but leaving new york in a very bad state. So in a truly selfless and kind act they dug up the heavy treasure chest (A NY TIMes article covering it had them remakr on being remidned how heavy that much coin is) , and donating it all to disaster relief. It's a truly wild and heartfelt story and I love it.

So the question is how are the shorts themselves, more than a decade later and with the big reason for their existing, the treasure hunt long over? Jump down under the cut with me to find out

The Crew: WLOG follows four pirates and a parrot whose just kinda there to piss off the captain who , as the title suggests lost their gold and are trying to find it they are

The Captain: No name given ala Pirates!. A salty old cus with a giant mangy beard that covers his body half the time, and is liable to snap at the bulk of his crew, even if he cares for 2/3 of them. He's determined to keep the knowledge secret keep it safe and frustrated by his crew's deep well of incompetence minus one member.

Mulligan: A blonde pirate, a goof off whose deal is annoying the piss out of the captain and wanting to go up in the crows nest. Why isn't he allowed up there? Simple the captain dosen't want him to be happy and neither do I so I can undrestand.

Crothers: An injury prone dum dum. Not a bad guy but very clumsy and loud.

Black Tom: A ninja. None of the other pirates realize this

Yeah as you can kinda guess the crew's a bit one note: the captain's the constantly pissed off straight man, Muligan the annoying dumbass, Crothers the big ole dumbass, and Black Tom is a ninja who speaks in subtitles but dosen't really speak japanese far as I can tell , which was accpetable at the time for reasons i'm not aware of.

It's the series main weakness: the cast is fairly thin and with 7 decently sized shorts and one 30 second one, the gimmicks wear on you quick. There's just not enough comedic depth in any of these guys to justify an 8 episode series. Thankfully the series compensates in other ways as it goes on as we sift through this pile of episodes

So speaking of the pile

Ye Episodes

The Beggining: This is the weakest episode. It has a good gag or two: Black tom being the reason cruthers is missing an eye in flashback and the pirate captain getting SO tired of mullins interrupting his flashbacks "I'm not even going to wast a flashback on ye" but it's just... broing. It's not helped Mullins is at his most annoying here, working better as a foil to the captain in other episodes but here just popping in with a pretty lame joke about swapping letters around.

The Chase: This one's okay as the stuff on deck is kinda entertaining. it has a very dated bit spoofing anime animation that feels out of date even for when this came out. The ships under attack and naturally sinks

The Larry King: The best episode of the 8, and a fun one. It also has Mario and Fava in it claming the gold is actually theres, which in a joke I didn't see coming and love, it absolutely was. It's helped by the format: Larry king is interviewing the pirates and glove and boots , leading to some fun chaos as the captain tries to keep them from dropping clues, Mario bullshits, Fava interrupts then goes along with it, and Black Tom sits down with his good friend larry king. This was more lik eit

The Black Tom: A one minute short soley for the clues.

THE WPPPT: This one suffers from the same issu eof the first, dragging in places but unlike it has some great gags to it as the pirates play poker. The parody of the poker obession at the time has aged like fine milk on a sidewalk and it highlights an issue of the show at tims: some bits... just feel very dated in comparison to glove and boots. GAB had pop culture refrences, but the refrences here very late to early 2000's: celebrity poker, larry king still being around, the pirate craze at the time, pirates vs ninjas, all things long left buried by the zeigeist.

The Monkey Buisness: A really fun one as a monkey on an island reads a comic about our heroes exploits: i'ts really fun to see these goofy pirates drawn all muscular and realistic in a seroius story.. then see the style used for their usual nonsense. Really great. It's not a totally new concept but it's unexpected and fun.

The Ghost STory: This one is fine Not really much to say an da fun concept of telling ghost stories

The Final Episode: My second faviorite: the pirate captain recons with this quest, Crothers gets turned into a parrot and Mulligan finally gets to go up in the crows nest. It's an oddly moving finale too as Crothers dies in the previous episode, and posses the parrot and after freeing him from a demon they accidnetly summon is stuck there. But the Pirate Captain accepts it because he's his friend and lets go of the treasure, a suprisingly touching ending to a throughly silly series.

So overally.. I found the series.. okay. It has some good jokes, some great concepts but the core cast is fairly weak, making the ballance of the show wonky and th efirst half is bogged down by some topical refrences. The final three epiosdes are really good, as is the larry king.

The shorts main problem is pacing: the having to sneak in clues combined with the format mean it's not quite as snappy as glove and boots. And I hate to keep comparing them but by this point glove and boots existed. THey knew how to do this and I belivie could've done better. I don't feel they half assed it: the puppets themselves look great, really nice felt and the performances are great.. but the core of the series is a bunch of characters I just don't care about or find all that funny and it tempers the experince for me. It really dosen't help coming off reading the second pirates book, as that book knew how to have fairly thin characters but manage them well with wacky shenanigans. Here their trying to do a character based comedy at atimes with characters who don't fit it. It works best with stuff like the larry king or the monkey buisness where the weird scenario allows them to do fun stuff with the characters and format.

I will be positive here: while these shorts didn't grab me, the early glove and boots stuff around the same time was better, they'd learn from it and as glove and boots went it'd be awesome. These are two talented men who created a silly pirate contest then used the money for said contest to help people. I wish them luck in whatever their doing now after youtube left them off and thank them for this fun day. WELOSTOURGOLD isn't the best.. but it wasn't a bad way to spend an hour. Thanks for reading

[vamptastic]

Hey so I doubt anybody cares about this given that my blog has like, 50 followers and half of them are inactive or old friends, but if anybody's been wondering why I have so few posts on here about Israel compared to other political issues it's because I'm not putting anything on here that isn't credibly sourced. I noticed quite a few posts containing misconceptions and some straight up hoaxes early on and I've just really not noticed anybody start to think more critically since then, so I'm just not posting anything unless I can take the time to verify it.

I think a large part of this is just that I'm on the English side of the internet and most people are not able to read Hebrew and Arabic so there's just going to be more misinformation than American current events. But ngl, there's been some stuff that I really can't understand why anybody would not immediately flag as a hoax unless motivated by anti-Arab racism or antisemitism of the conspiratorial variety.

Also I just have complicated feelings because I grew up very involved with Judaism and my first Rabbi was a hardcore Israeli Zionist, and I also spent a lot of time at Chabad which was also quite Zionist. So while from a logical & moral standpoint I am, as far as I can tell, quite anti-Zionist, there's just some personal feelings in the mix that are hard to let go of. So I'd rather not invite conversation unless it's with people I trust to be understanding because I grew up with an extremely biased view on this and there might be some ideas I still hold without realizing they're motivated by my upbringing and not the reality of the situation.

Again, I can say with 100% certainty that Israel's actions since October 7th have been reprehensible and that it is their actions in the years before that led things to this point, and that I wish Israel had at the very least not had such heavy British colonial influence in its' founding, if it was ever possible to found a morally good Jewish state in the first place.

[littleapocalypsekitten]

I had the same thought. If I wake up tomorrow and my long awaited Trump is Dead news arrives, I'm just gonna be "Haha, Internet, nice of you to try to pull a fast one on me!" Maybe if it's on CNN I'll believe it, but maybe not even then. I plan to spend my time tomorrow trying to avoid the April Tomfoolery by playing video games or doing art while awaiting a scheduled phone call for a very important thing in my life that I know is not a hoax because it was pre-assigned and Monday just happens to be a business day. I will wait and see if the news of the Orange Shitgibbon's demise is actually the truth until the next day, and maybe even the next day. Please show us a corpse. Yes, America, we can have that traitor laying in state, an honor he does not deserve - but is common for former Presidents - merely to show that he's actually stone-cold dead. We need to keep the Evangelical Fundamentalist loonies who literally have adopted him as the new Christ from thinking that he has risen from the dead, after all. We also need the expert zombie and vampire hunters at the ready just in case he tries it. Someone should be stationed at the coffin with a stake. Guards should have silver bullets. Anyway, there will be many conspiracy theories to come out of it. OF COURSE the MAGAts witll think the "Biden Crime Family" pulled a hit. They may think that all of Trumps Republican rivals were in on it, like DeSantis and Haley and Cheney conspired to bump him off in order to stop their movement and have a place. Or that they're possessed by Demons and somehow successfully thwarted God's Great Chosen Messiah of America. They will spiral in on themselves until most fling off and come to their senses and what is left at the black hole core are a tiny, hyperviolent ball that gets found out / countered / controlled by the National Guard and other agencies, because Trump isn't in charge and there to stop them anymore. I do predict that there will be attempts at bombings and mass-shootings around various government properties, hopefully thwarted, but there will probably be some loss of life. But, overall, the greater power of MAGA will be gone. It'll dwindle away over the years and decades. And in the history books, the story of the douchebag who was such a douche he died on April 1 will become one of the funniest chapters of American history. Edit: Carter will have a wonderful excuse not to attend: "I'm old, I'm sick, I just lost my wife. I barely made her funeral because I'm in hospice. I'll give him my prayers, leave me be." - Basically. And we will all understand and admire him for this.

It's gonna be such a funny mess when Donald Trump dies of a stroke on April 1st, 2024.

Naturally everybody will think it's fake because of the date only to lose their minds (both positively and negatively based on their opinion of trump) when realizing it's real

There will be massive celebrations in the streets and on social media and lots of predictable "don't speak ill of the dead" discourse about those celebrations

Weird evangelicals will pull some weird number trick talking about how Jesus was conceived on April 1st and that makes Trump a sort of messiah and people will make fun of that

The Republicans (after they're done with the faux-sadness and faux-outrage) will stomp over each other to be his successor but none of them will succeed. They'll tear each other apart and have no single nominee for the November elections.

There will be discourse about if Biden and the living former presidents should go to his funeral (they won't, he was a traitor insurrectionist)

The Ukraine-Russia War immediately goes in favor of Ukraine as morale in the Kremlin is reduced. China similarly backs off from its threats on Taiwan.

Ten thousand new memes are made, some sticking around for years to come.

Not a month later a bunch of unofficial biographies of Trump hit the bookshelves, many with new details about just how awful he was.