#>DISCLAIMER: I

[astrobydalia]

Vietnamese astrology observations

Some observations on the Vietnamese astrology signs to celebrate the lunar new year. Disclaimer: these are based on observations and experiences from my pov as a dragon lmao As always credits to @novy2sirius for the inspo and knowledge of these things.

astrobydalia

🎋I've rarely seen Tigers getting married or having a relationship that lasted more than 1-2 years💀​💀 But the few ones that I've seen with stable marriages had spouses who were incredibly independent, someone who they admire and acts like they don't need/want the tiger person all that much. When tigers have these kinds of parters, they seem to be the most devoted and engaged in their relationships

​​💮​Tigers are highly attracted to danger (e.g. Mr Beast), sometimes to very concerning extents

​​💮​Tigers 🤝 having the attention span of an ipad kid. They like to command attention to themselves but don't like it when others demand their attention

​​💮​Which speaking of, Tigers ooze main character energy I’ve noticed. They are the star of the show and they know it. It's hard to not notice them in a room and honestly they really do have that 'it' factor, have this ‘unique’ energy to them (I think Lady Gaga is very representative of this vibe)

​​💮​My honest opinion on Tigers tho is that they’re annoying af, tend to be very abrupt and the kind of people who don’t know when it’s time to stop and stfu. Tiger men in particular I’ve noticed tend to say and do very inappropriate things often.... However I've seen older/more mature tigers that are pretty chill and simply have BDE

🎋Cats/Rabbits have beautiful smiles and a very youthful look to them. I’ve noticed however that they tend to smirk a lot, often appear cunning and mischievous cause they looooove messing with people, a lot of teasing and provoking. Very witty.

​​💮​Also, cats/rabbits are pretty horny and slutty. Even when they don't talk about sex at all their energy is very sensual, they come off as "easy" iykwim

​​💮​I’ve also noticed cats/rabbits have like some glow to them idk they look like this ✨🎀🪄 to me

🎋Horses are talented and really good at their job and crafts but they are also kinda bland and uninteresting tbh. On a surface level, they are cool cause they are rather playful, social and very engaging, they also have an approachable and warm aura. However they feel a lil vapid and superficial to me after some time. They don't look deeper into things and don't consider long-term consequences. They're also pretty aloof and inexpressive a lot of times

​​💮​Horses are very agile tho both mentally and physically. They are quick to respond to immediate or short-term situations/problems and I've also seen they are prone to be on the go 24/7

​​💮​I’ve also noticed horses tend to look strong, fit, muscular or in shape even when they don’t go to the gym

🎋I don't initially gravitate towards snakes but I always end up vibing with them incredibly well. Very profound, intelligent and insightful people. They have a lot of knowledge and wisdom about life. If you are looking to have philosophical convos they will totally deliver, both street smart+book smart

​​💮​It's extremely hard to get close to them on a personal level tho. They have sus energy and seem to hide a shit ton of things about themselves.

​​💮​Snakes are also very good at easing themselves into leading positions, they sneakily take charge of situations.

​​💮​Snakes have a wild side when underdeveloped tho. A lot of snakes I know are into conspiracy theories and/or are all about this idea of going against the system or the stablished rules but like in a very unhinged way. Tend to also make apparently mindless decisions that make ppl go "wtf are you doing?". In many cases they can become controversial af (e.g. Kanye, JK Rowling)

​​💮​Something I’ve noticed a lot with Snakes is that they tend to randomly ghost people. They’re the kind of people who you never really know where you stand with them unless y’all are super duper close. Tend be secretly very judgmental and have a very all-or-nothing mindset in their relationships (obsessive AF). They play A LOT of mind games with ppl all the time

🎋Both Tigers and snakes have difficult love lives and are prone to getting in abusive relationships. What I’ve seen with snakes in particular is that they tend to be the toxic and manipulative ones most of the times (e.g. Chris Brown). With tigers I've seen it go both ways but what stands out with them is that they tend to get in relationships where there is a MAYOR power imbalance in some way such as huge age gap or things like that (e.g. Amber Heard or Marylin Monroe). Tigers are attracted to forbidden people and that's also why they are the most prone to cheat

🎋RoostersI've noticed have very neat features, sharp jawlines, high cheekbones, nice lips, etc. They always look really snatched af and their bodies seem to have perfect proportions regardless of their body type.

​​💮​And yeah I've seen they are indeed the most arrogant out of all the signs here

🎋Both Snakes and Roosters are rather funny and sarcastic, but roosters pull it off more naturally. They guenienly have an unbothered and unserious vibe to them so humor comes to them effortlessly even when they don't try at all. With snakes it feels like they are intentionally trying to be punny so it doesn't land the same a lot of times

​​💮​A lot of roosters have memorable moments that become iconic memes😭:

​​💮​A lot of Roosters ik actually do not think of themselves as being funny or charming at all. They usually describe themselves as serious and hardworking

🎋Dragons have a very large and in charge personality, they often appear chill and normal at first glance but I’ve noticed they tend to be known for being unapologetic and highly expressive (Rihanna, Ryan Raynolds, Emma Stone, Adele, Kenue Reeves)

​​💮​When developed dragons quite literally and genuinely don’t give a fuck what people think, say or do to them. “Im just doing me” energy

​​💮​Dragons tend to enhance their own self-importance as a defense mechanism when they’re insecure tho. They might or might not be the most confident but they’d rather die than let others see that

​​💮​Dragons very often lack self-accountability or self awareness and tend to not handle conflict well. They are prone to having one-sided beef with people who aren't even thinking about them, I’ve seen this so much!!!!💀💀😭 It's giving:

​​💮​On that same line, Dragons tend to be advocates against mean or bad ppl I've noticed but this often manifests as them getting in personal vendettas about things that have absolutely nothing to do with them. So a lot of times all they're doing is causing a chaos nobody asked for

🎋Goats I wanna protect tf out of them. It's so hard to stay mad at them fr, they have the most endearing energy and they're very popular from what I've observed.

​​💮​When underdeveloped goats have the worst emotional intelligence and tend to be very emotionally volatile. Tend to take things personally very easily and make other people pay for their own issues

​​💮​Goats are the definition of a simp when in love or in a relationship. They LOVE romance and tend to be really good at it as well

​​💮​Goats are very soft spoken too!! I always find myself LOVING their voice or the way they speak, it's really soothing and hypnotic

🎋I honestly don’t like monkeys all that much, I can vibe with them cause we’re friend signs or whatever but they tend to be pretty childish, emotionally immature and self-centered imo. They can be very deep and intelligent but also fail to be responsible and take things seriously a lot of times

​​💮​The good side of them is that they are very creative and they are the type of person that never gets old to have around, they have many hidden talents

​​💮​Something else I like about Monkeys is they are really good with kids and are very family oriented. They truly love children and will prioritize the younger people in their life whether it’s their own kids, their siblings, etc

​​💮​I've also noticed Monkeys can be big big liars. They lie a lot and for no reason at all.

🎋Pigs aren't really all that ambitious, what they mainly want out of life is to live with as much comfort, ease and financial stability as possible and that's it. The good thing about this is that this can make them rather genuine people, not the type to have a hidden agenda or anything like that

​​💮​Pigs tend to be lazy but they can be hardworking at the same time. They drag their feet to do anything but when they finally bring themselves to put in the work they actually deliver great results. They are VERY financially smart too, you can count on them to get high-value and high-quality stuff

​​💮​Honestly pigs actually have a lot of potential, they can be very disciplined but their main thing is that they expect everything to be handed to them on a silver platter

​​💮​I’ve noticed pigs are very likable but also tend to be socially awkward at the same time. They're like that one introverted person everyone loves and wants in the group

🎋I don't vibe with oxes for some reason. They appear calm, unassuming and grounded but my god they are strategic, calculating and ruthless affff. Very self-righteous too, have a very unapproachable energy😭

​​💮​Oxes have a very harsh and cold “you gotta do what you gotta do” mindset and which can be really good but I think that's what I find the most unsettling about them. If you try to appeal to their more emotive side once they’ve set their mind on something they’ll look at you like this:

​​💮​Oxes are very disciplined and resilient tho. If people try to tear them down those people will fail miserably. Truly a force to be reconned with

​​💮​Oxes are super duper loyal too in EVERY aspect of their life, similar to dogs

​​💮​A lot of oxes that I've seen were surprisingly into occult as well or were into holistic forms of self-improvement. They can be very "zen" people

🎋Oxes and pigs are the most materialistic signs from what I've seen.

🎋Snakes and dragons are the biggest gatekeepers. Not just with material things but with anything that is valuable to them and gives them sense of power (think of the legends of dragons always guarding a treasure and the sneaky and secretive nature of snakes)

🎋Rats are usually very playful and energetic I’ve seen but in a more graceful and charming way. Very good entertainers and cool people to have around to be honest, another sign that tends to be popular.

​​💮​Rats seem to be all-rounders, very adaptable, fast learners and open-minded which is the main reason why I've seen they find success in the matrix.

​​💮​The main negative I’ve seen with rats tho is that they can be rather opportunistic and hypocritical but they hide this very well. They’re really good at sweet talking others and staying in people’s good graces. Very manipulative and deceitful, they can easily hide any ulterior motives and appear genuine to others

​​💮​A lot of Rats I know are interested in health and wellness in some way, having good hygiene, eating good food, working out, meditating, etc. Cooking in particular is a big thing with them I've noticed

🎋Dogs feel very mid to me….. I recognize they are MUCH more creative, intelligent and clever than horses imo but their go with the flow energy can make them very unoriginal or predictable.

​​💮​Dogs are also the definition of “same old story”. Strong tendency to stay stuck in the past, going back to their old ways and never really reinventing themselves

​​💮​The good thing about this tho is that its true dogs are loyal and consistent af tho, the kind of loyalty and devotion most people would only wish to find in someone and they are also peaceful, compromising and charming

​​💮​Dogs are very pretty too, they clean up nicely but I've noticed they tend to be super insecure about their image

​​💮​Dogs appear kind and trustworthy regardless of what kind of person they are deep down. Either they're genuinely very lawful and righteous people or very fake and phony, the type to smile to your face while planning to murder you in their heads

That's all folks!

astrobydalia

[causeimcrayzeebee]

Wolfgang Akire through the lens of the law: an analysis

i would like to give a disclaimer that while im very interested in the law, im not a lawyer or in law school. my knowledge comes from the few law classes i have taken, participation in a couple mock trials, and some personal research, so please take this with a grain of salt! if im missing something or saying something inaccurate, please let me know! i am always open to learning more!! not to mention this is my understanding of law in the United States, so this may differ by country.

in the end, this isn’t meant to be too serious, just using the knowledge i do have and applying it to p:eg!!!

okay now spoilers for the prologue and all of chapter 1!

well ig before we get into it let me say rest in peace a king... I will miss you, you hypocritical bastard........

alright, so firstly, let’s consider Wolfgang’s character profile.

two things stand out to me here. the first is how he has “successfully defended over 200 of his clients without dropping a single case.” we can infer that Wolfgang is a criminal defense attorney. it’s possible he could be a lawyer in the civil law sector instead, but considering his strong feelings about murder and crime, and the fact that this is Danganronpa, it leads me to believe he is a criminal attorney for the sake of relevance (I don't think any of us would care if he were a corporate attorney after all).

now, that sentence you just read is particularly interesting in the case of Wolfgang Akire. From the prologue's mock trial, we can see that Wolfgang feels very passionately about murder, condemning the murderer even without insight as to why they committed the crime, instead big on retribution and justice (which the definition of could definitely be debated). Yet, as a defense lawyer, Wolfgang would have been defending people from criminal accusations, from anything to armed robbery, arson, or murder. we’re not particularly sure on his view of other crime, but we can assume he also has a similarly negative view of it that he has of murder. out of 200 people (within such a short time span of finishing law school too), what are the odds that out of all 200, not one of them was actually guilty? of course, lawyers have the ability to drop or not take on cases, but as his profile says, he hasn’t dropped a single case! it’s quite possible he had complete faith that every client was innocent, but with the evidence and files he’d have to go through, he had to have seen something that was damning and prepared accordingly to address in the most sympathetic way possible to avoid prosecution winning their case. and that's the thing with Wolfgang; his job requires building sympathy for the accused, and it requires sowing seeds of doubt in prosecution's case. there had to have been someone that he was defending from an accurate charge(s). so whether he knew it or not, he has very likely defended people guilty of crime; and yet, he still feels very adamantly against them.

Here's where I fall short on my analysis; I honestly do not know what to make of this conclusion. his behavior and his ideals are almost contradictory in a sense. is this insight to wolfgang's clear hypocrisy? but what does that really say about him? I'd love to know what any of y'all think in regards to this :0

Now, the second thing that stands out to me is that he wants to make sure that everyone is fairly represented and make sure logic and evidence drive the discussion. While this does seem to be true, the mock trial shows that he lets his feelings become a big part of the discussion as well. everything he does screams prosecutor to me, so it was shocking to find out he works as defense. Wolfgang has a very interesting way of viewing things, almost dichotomous, unlike what his profile says. it's similar to the format of a trial, where it's not meant to be a team working together to find the complexities and nuance within a certain issue, but rather an attempt to prove your point and disprove the other side. trials aren't supposed to be a discussion where everyone reaches the truth together (Danganronpa trials are not very accurate but of course I don't think they were intended to be in the first place), they are for you to win your case-- as a defense attorney, its poking as many holes into the prosecution’s case as possible. (little fun side note, this is very similar to how debate works; Wolfgang and Damon are a lot more alike than one would originally think.)

Considering all of this, it makes me wonder if Wolfgang was intentionally trying to split the group apart,,,, because it's easier. because it makes more sense. as defense, lawyers may pin the crime on another, but without the burden of proof that prosecution does, they can sling out accusations to increase doubt on prosecutions case without having to actually prove it (that would be left for a separate case). it's easier to divide a group and have a bunch of people follow you while isolating the 'other side', and with that division made, it's more likely someone you isolated will be the 'villian' anyways; and in this case, this was true-- Eva, who has been socially ostracized her whole life, was driven to murder to protect herself from the blinding fear that everyone was out for her (even if that wasn't entirely true). this could be just how Wolfgang has gotten used to going through his life. maybe the bad habits he picked up from his father were the divisive kind of us vs them mindset lawyers have to have in a courtroom.

speaking of his father, let's address the motive-- there's so many things that Wolfgang's blackmail could be about; faking his law degree, not taking the bar exam, defending horrible people, the list goes on. Honestly, a scenario i have considered is that it's about him defending his father for a crime he actually did commit, yet winning the case; or his father commuting a crime in general and winning his case, leaving Wolfgang conflicted as that is the sort of thing he does all the time, yet his father had just taken away his mothers life and gotten free (this is very much just me guessing a possibility though). when Wolfgang was hallucinating, he says he's not like them (to diana who he thinks is someone else) and he'll never be like them; It's most likely that he saw his father. the theory I'm going with right now is that his father was at the very least heavily involved in the likely murder of his mother (thus bring her back in reference to his mom). his father was probably also a lawyer and may have pushed wolfgang into going into the field himself, especially when he sent him to law school as a teenager. maybe Wolfgang wanted to live up to the expectations his father had of him. who knows exactly what Wolfgang wanted everyone to know him as, it was probably a long the lines of a competent lawyer. but, as of right now it's all speculation (objection! haha.... that was not funny my bad), so again, I'd love to hear some thoughts.

Another little funny thing i'd like to note is when Damon and Eva come back to the dinning hall and Wolfgang asks where they've been, Damon responds saying it was for discussing the motive. He's internally smug about how defeated Wolfgang seemed to be by that, and I thought that the funniest shit; very similar to being on cross examination, thinking you have the witness in your hands, when suddenly they wiggle out of your accusation. he's so real for that.

that is pretty much all i've got so far! let me know what y'all think and thanks for reading!!! :)

[hyunniesgirl]

Bad intentions | Part 1

Pairing: nerd!Han Jisung x popular!reader(afab)

Summary: you thought you could turn Han Jisung into the perfect boyfriend material so you can get revenge on your cheating ex. Little did you know that you would end up getting much more than just a guy to show off.

Genre: fluff, angst, smut(for the story in general, this part has no smut)

Words count: 8,056

Slightly inspired in the movie She's All That

*This is the second fic to my series Love is a mess. The stories can be read as standalones but they are all connected so some details mentioned may sound off.

Disclaimer: Jisung is proud asf, OC has kind of a sad backstory and has anxiety(not explored very deeply but there are descriptions of her symptoms), this part is just suggestive so no smut

Part 2

This story is NSFW and is going to have +18 themes so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

A/N: okay for the sake of the plot let's pretend for a moment that Han Jisung can be considered anything other than smocking hot, alright?

A/N²: My idea was for all the stories from this series to be oneshots but I just kept writing and writing and this one was almost 13k already and I haven't even gotten to the good part so I thought "I almost never read anything over 10k" so I split the oneshot for the sake of my readers attention span.

Jisung likes to think that he's better than all the guys fawning over you, he likes to think that even if he had a chance, he'd never lust over you. But well, sometimes a strong denial turns out to be an implicit affirmation.

It all started in social studies, he was trying to go over his notes for the test but the conversations happening at the same time didn't let him pay any attention to what was written in the sheets. There were five different conversations happening at the same time, but they all had the same subject: you.

Apparently, you had a boyfriend who cheated on you with a girl from a rival university? Or some trivial shit like that. Jisung doesn't understand why that matters to anyone but you and the said boyfriend. He doesn't understand why everyone feels like such a painful experience is any of their business. But he guesses it comes with the job.

Everyone knows you, you're the classic cheer captain, who dates — or dated — the infamous quarterback in the football team. People envy you, cherish you, they want to be you and he always thought they loved you, but after hearing so many snarky comments about you in the last 20 minutes, he's actually starting to pity you.

You wanted to kill him, Seunghoon, that bastard. He destroyed a relationship of a year just to get in someone's pants? Fucking idiot. You hate him so much for cheating on you, but you hate him the most for not showing up kneeling at your door and asking for forgiveness. Who does he think he is? He would never have gotten his position on the football team if it wasn't for you, everyone knows that.

It's an understatement to say you are always the best in everything you put your mind into and if you're not the best by nature, you work hard until you become the best. You are smart, pretty, popularity is your thing, you're used to getting everyone's attention wherever you go. Everyone loves you, or at least they pretend well enough.

So when you started dating this guy, who was a nobody it was pretty shocking for everyone else. You turned him into the most popular guy so he could stay by your side, so you expected a little bit of loyalty from him. Guess that was expecting too much from a horny dog like him.

You did love Seunghoon, you wouldn't have dated him for a year if you didn't. But his character was always questionable, that, you won't deny. There's that saying that love makes you blind but you knew that he's no good and yet stayed with him, that's on you.

You can't stand the pity looks people give you when you walk down the hallway, they could at least pretend they are not talking shit about you behind your back.

To think the semester has only just started, you wish you could take a year off to make sure things die down nicely. But if you do, you'll definitely lose your position as cheer captain, there are too many people willing to get rid of you so they can get your title.

It's best for you to try and get rid of these thoughts, so you hold your head high turning on a corner, decided to pretend everything is okay. That's when you bump into someone, dropping the books you have in your hands and your phone screen down on the floor, gasping immediately, the last thing you need right now is a broken phone.

When you lean over to collect your things, the person who bumped into you does the same, going for the phone at the same time and touching hands with you. A strange wave of electricity makes your whole body shiver by that touch, making you snap your head in the direction of the person.

You know him. He's one of the members of 3racha, a music group everyone loves. Curiously, this is the first time you have seen him outside of a presentation. He's clearly different from the other members, wearing baggy clothes and displaying a hair that's undeniable too long with some questionable choice of colors on it. You can't even really see his eyes, however, he has something about him that makes you refuse to take your eyes off him.

He grabs your book and phone, ignoring your shameless stare. Standing up and handing your things to you.

“Sorry, I can pay for your phone's repair”, he says and for the first time in a minute you can divert your eyes from him, looking at the screen, absolutely shattered and sighing.

“No, it's okay. I was the one who was distracted”, you smile, tucking your hair behind your ear. Why do you feel the sudden urge to flirt with him? He's not even your type. Or at least, that's what you think.

He hums, not really interested, taking a paper out of his bag and writing something on it.

“Here, this is my number if you change your mind”, he gives you the paper, saying goodbye and disappearing somewhere in the hallway.

When you finally meet Seunghoon, he doesn't even apologize, actually, he doesn't look regretful at all. He has a smug smile, as if what he did is not serious, as if he's better than you now.

You always had a thought in the corner of your mind that maybe he had some kind of inferiority complex when it came to you, but you didn't think he would go as far as to cheat on you just to prove he is better in some way.

“You don't harbor hard feelings, right?” He smirks, chin up. “I know you're much better than me, I'm sure you won't mind what happened and we can still be friends”, he's mocking you, you recognize that tone.

You're grasping the fabric of your skirt under the table, did he really pull you away from your practice to say this? The audacity of this man.

“Of course I don't mind”, you smile kindly, acting as unbothered as you possibly can. This is something you learned in so many years of having eyes on you all the time: pretend. You won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry or even get mad. If you are able to pretend you don't care at all about him, that's what you're gonna do.

“I'm glad-”, his smile falters a bit, you are sure he expected you to break. That shows how little he knows about you, you would never make a scene in public.

“Actually, I'm even seeing someone else already”, you blurt out, trying to make him more baffled and it works, he frowns and the look of confusion in his face is priceless.

“Well, that's great for you”, Seunghoon clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “We should definitely go on a double date sometime”

“Of course, I'd love that”, you nod, standing up. “I'll be going now, but it was great seeing you”, you lie, turning around and walking back to the gymnasium.

When it sinks in what you just did, you want to hit your head against the wall. What the hell was that? Why would you even tell him you're seeing someone when you're not? For fucksake, you're sure he's too proud to let this go, he'll try to find out who it is that you're seeing and when he finds out you lied, you'll be done for, faced with utter humiliation again.

“Why would you tell him you're seeing someone?” Mina asks, looking at you like you are the dumbest person alive, and honestly, you do feel like that at the moment.

“I don't know”, you cry out, “I guess I wanted him to feel miserable”

“And look where that got you”, Miyeon says, worriedly.

“I know, I'm an idiot”, you tell them and your friends nod, making you glare at them. “Well, I guess I'll just have to find a new boyfriend”, you say, dreadfully.

“You know it's not that easy”, Mina says, “you built Seunghoon from the scratch to the guy he is today, it won't have the same effect if you get just anybody that people already see everyday, it has to be shocking”

“Well, I don't know”, you sigh, “is there even someone like that here?”

“I don't know”, Miyeon says, “you need someone charming, someone who people can't take their eyes off”

“It won't be good if he's already known, it should be someone who's usually invisible”, Mina completes.

You sigh, there's only one person you can think of who instantly fits that description.

“What about him?” Miyeon takes you out of your thoughts, pointing to someone behind you. “Isn't he part of 3racha?”

“I mean, he fits what we are looking for”, Mina says.

You turn around, finding the guy you bumped on a few days ago sitting at the table behind you, you're sure you can remember his name if you just try a little harder. He's sitting with Changbin, the other guy from 3racha who is kind of your friend.

“But is there something for you to do there?” Mina looks at him with squinted eyes, trying to see how you could improve him.

“He's cute”, you check him out shamelessly, nodding to yourself.

“I'm not sure if you could make Seunghoon jealous with cuteness”, she shrugs.

“He's not just cute”, you bit your bottom lip, thinking hard. “He could use a different haircut and maybe a new wardrobe but I see a lot of potential in there”

“Well”, Mina sighs in defeat, “let's make a bet them”

“Are you in middle school?” You ask her, rolling your eyes.

“If you can make Seunghoon regret cheating on you, I'll give up on trying for cheer captain next semester”, she ignores your question, stretching her hand for you to shake it.

“As if you were going to win anyway”, you joke.

Of course she could win, Mina is your best friend and also the best dancer you know, she could easily steal your position if you didn't try so hard to keep it, so you do what you have to do, shaking her hand even though you don't have a good feeling about it.

It's been a few days since you decided to make Jisung your new boyfriend, you just haven't figured out how to approach him. For starters, you can't even find him in this damn university, how the hell can a member from a trio as popular as 3racha just walk around without being noticed? That's a mystery you'll have to solve later.

“Jisung? Why would you want me to set you up with him?” Changbin asks, confused.

“Well, I find him cute”, you shrug, that's not a lie.

“He's not your type, he's totally different from Seunghoon”, he stares at you with a brow raised, sipping from his drink.

“Why would I want someone like Seunghoon? My reputation is almost ruined because of that guy”, you say.

“You got a point”, Changbin sighs, “let me talk to him first”, he can feel something is up but with all the mess happening in his life already, he doesn't have the energy to dig any deeper.

Jisung stares at his friend for about five minutes, no words being said. Why would someone like you want to go out with someone like him?

He's pretty popular because of 3racha, but not near as popular as you or your friend group. Everyone knows he's an awkward guy, when he's on stage his personality changes, he's confident, it feels great, like he could conquer the world, but when he goes back to real life, he just doesn't feel the need to be perceived. Jisung doesn't have a reason to be popular outside of the stage, he's fine with being invisible.

“So, what do you think?” Changbin asks.

“I don't know”, Jisung shrugs.

“Think carefully, it's not everyday that someone like y/n wants to go on a date with an ordinary guy”, the older one insists.

Well, maybe he likes being ordinary. He always thought he wouldn't be like those guys who would do anything for a pretty girl, now it's his chance to prove it.

“You can tell her that I appreciate the thought, but I don't think it's a good idea”, Jisung says, confidently. Even though he wants to punch himself after saying it.

Changbin sighs.

“If you're sure about it”, he shrugs, standing up and walking to the kitchen.

What if he's just letting his prejudice get in the way of meeting someone nice? He sighs to himself, there's nothing he can do about it now.

Well, that's unexpected. Did you go so low as to be rejected by just anybody? How could Jisung not even accept a single date with you? Are you ugly? No, you're sure it's not that. Are you boring? It's not that either, of course. You don't think there's a single thing that would make him turn you down. Maybe you're not his type? No, you're everyone's type.

You won't give up, though. Han Jisung has too much potential for you to just leave him be, you're sure you can make him be even better than Seunghoon ever was. So you march to social studies, you asked Changbin who reluctantly told you that Jisung takes that class.

You enter the classroom earning a few glances, smiling kindly at the people you know and introducing yourself to the ones you don't.

Jisung is seated in the corner, writing something on his notebook, earbuds on. You walk up to him, sitting by his side and waiting for him to notice you, which doesn't take long. He feels a presence too close to him, making him turn to look at you.

He frowns, taking his earbuds slowly, trying to process your present so close to him.

“How can I help you?” He asks and you tilt your head, he's even cuter up close.

“I heard you turned me down”, you say, leaning over the desk to watch him.

“Yeah, sorry”, he shrugs nonchalantly, hurting your pride even more. He should feel at least a bit apologetic, shouldn’t he?

“What do I have to do for you to go out with me?” You push more. You even came here looking for him, you're not going to be discouraged just by a bit of indifference.

“Why do you want to go out with me anyway?” He frowns, it’s not that he doesn’t want to say yes, it’s just that every time that he feels tempted to actually lust over you his pride gets a little more hurt, did you think there was no chance of you being rejected by him?

“Well, I like you. You're cute”, you tell him as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“You don't even know me”, he scoffs, ignoring the fact that you called him cute.

“That's exactly why I want to go out with you, dummy. So I can get to know you better”, you smile, knowing he won't be able to get out of this situation without telling you why he won't go out with you.

“Well, you’re not my type”, he clears his throat, adjusting himself on his seat and trying to sound convincing, you’re clearly everyone’s type. “And I don’t think we would have much to talk about”

You’re going to fight him on this, argue that you’re a very interesting person that can talk about a lot of things, but the professor enters the classroom, eyeing you and tilting his head in confusion, since you passed this class last semester.

“I’m going to let it go for now”, you stand, “but don’t think you’re getting rid of me”, you huff, walking out of the class. He sure is stubborn, but you’re more.

Jisung feels like he's in those movies with a stalker following him around. You know, when the protagonist is sure that someone is watching them but every time they look around there's no one there? Except that in his case, you're always there. Every place he goes has you in it, glaring at him.

You're not actually glaring at him, even though he thinks you're. You're just shocked that he still hasn't come around to accepting going out with you, so you have to stare at him because you have to understand him. Why is he so different from the other guys? Of course you don't think you're better than anyone, but since news of your break up with Seunghoon broke out, your phone has been blowing up with texts from guys you didn't even know had your number, saying weird things and asking you out. So why is the only person you want to hear from, not giving a shit about you?

You ask Changbin's help but he refuses to meddle anymore than he already has, saying that he knows your intentions are not entirely good so he won't help anymore.

“Did you know we have a class with your new crush?” Mina says while looking at herself in the mirror of the clothes store you're visiting.

“What?” You take your eyes out of your phone to look at her, you have been staring at your screen for thirty minutes, trying to fight the urge to just call Jisung. He gave you his number so you could charge him with the repair of your broken phone but you already had it fixed, maybe you could use that little incident to your advantage.

“We have French with him, you chose Spanish, right?” Miyeon asks, looking around to see if she likes anything.

“Are you for real?” You ask and she looks at you, nodding. “Do you think there are still open spots in your class?” You ask, lost in thoughts.

“You're not going to switch classes just so you can get close to him, right?” Mina turns around to look at you, a brow raised in questioning. “Right?” She presses after you don't answer.

“I kinda prefer French though”, you smirk, standing up. “The school's office is still open now, isn't it?” You ask and both of your friends exchange looks, sighing and shaking their heads, sure that you're a lost cause.

It was not difficult to switch classes, you used up all your charm with the office’s secretary so she wouldn't argue too much about it. You just need a warm smile, some tiramisu and to compliment her nails.

You enter the class smiling victoriously, seeing your friends seated side by side and finding Jisung sitting alone in the back. You waltz over there, putting your things on the desk and sitting by his side.

Jisung takes a deep breath, side eyeing you for a moment.

“Are you serious right now?” He sighs, “you know you can't just keep coming to my classes, right? That's lowkey stalking”, he argues, making you chuckle.

“I don't know what you're talking about”, you shrug, “I'm enrolled in this class”, you tell him, pulling a paper with your schedule printed on it and showing it to him. “This is the only spot available”

He looks around to check, biting his bottom lip, embarrassed. He should have checked before assuming things but that doesn't change the fact that you have been around him too much lately.

“Okay”, he sighs, fidgeting on his seat.

“If I'm really making you uncomfortable I can find somewhere else to sit”, you say, even though you want to make him give in and accept to go out with you, you don't want him to feel genuinely bothered by you.

Jisung on the other hand feel likes he can give in at any moment, the second time he saw you looking at him he wanted to stand up and just go to you, telling you he would accept to go out with you, fuck his pride.

“It's okay”, he clears his throat, “You can sit whatever you want”, he says, making you smirk.

“I mean, are you sure?” You lean in his direction, glancing at his lap.

Jisung chokes immediately, coughing so much he thinks he's going to die, you didn't mean what he thinks you do, right?

Class starts before you can mess with him a little bit more, you didn't think you would have so much fun teasing someone.

Jisung stands up and leaves as soon as the professor says the class ended, he doesn't want to stay close to you for a minute more. He couldn't pay attention to class because your scent kept coming his way. He would glance at you and you wouldn't even be acknowledging him, paying 100% of attention in class. It did make him upset that he didn't seem to cause the same reaction in you as you do to him.

Except that, as stated before, you're very good at pretending. You really wanted to tease him every time you caught him staring at you, you could see everything he was doing with your peripheral vision and you wanted to giggle with every time he pouted while looking at you.

That's proof enough for you that not being his type it's not the reason why he's reluctant to go out with you but you didn't even think about the possibility of him not liking girls at all.

“As far as I know, he does like girls”, Changbin tells you. “I'm not sure about guys though, maybe he does too?”

“Well, that's good then”, you sigh, crossing your arms and nodding to yourself, lost in thoughts.

Changbin stares at you for a moment, with a brow raised. “Binnie, can't you help me out? Just this once” You plead again, giving him puppy eyes.

“Nope, I'm not sure what your intentions are but what I know is that you don't do things without a reason”, he shakes his head.

You sigh, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue, you know how to convince Changbin but it's the first time in your life that you have to resort to such dirty methods.

“You know, I met someone really nice one of these days”, you tell him, smiling friendly. “She's really cute and she has been helping me in a class we have together”, Changbin glares at you. “I think you know her, but she doesn't seem to like you at all…” You pout, making a show.

“What are you trying to say?” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I'm trying to say that if you help me out, I can do the same”, you shrug, “you have so many virtues, Binnie, I'm confident I can make her see you in a different light”

You can at least try to convince her that Changbin is a good guy even though she's absolutely sure that he's bad news.

“Are you saying I should sell out my best friend so you can help me?” You see Changbin hesitate and that's when you push a little more.

“Come on, it's not like I'll do something awful to him”, you say, “I just want one date”

He sighs, nodding.

“Okay, alright”, he grunts. “I'll help you out just this one time and that's it”

“You're the best!” You say, clapping your hands excitedly.

This is definitely not how you thought the help would happen. The sun is burning your skin and the giggles of people around you are making you stressed. A pool party, why did he think this was going to be a good idea?

Just because you're at the same party as Jisung it doesn't mean you'll get a chance to talk to him or even accomplish your goal but even though the odds are against you, you are still going to try.

The day is too hot, the pool is bustling with people and you're uncomfortable in your bikini. In most days you love your body, you think you're pretty just the way you are but sometimes you have bad days, where you feel like everyone is staring at every single flaw you have.

You came to the party because you couldn't lose the opportunity but you can't see Jisung anywhere and your anxiety is only growing bigger. So as soon as you get the chance to escape, you do it. You wander around the frat house, looking for a place with no one, maybe Changbin's room is empty since he pretty much doesn't live in the house.

You walk up the stairs, swerving in the middle of the crowd who are talking and laughing with drinks in their hands, it's very overwhelming.

The corridor where the rooms are have less people, so you walk until the end to find Changbin's nameplate on the door. You knock twice to make sure there's no one there, the music in the pool is pretty loud so you can't hear if there are voices in the room but you wait a few seconds so people can get dressed if there is someone fucking there. You open the door slowly, finding the room empty. Hurrying inside and closing the door so no one sees you going in.

It's a pretty huge room with things that suit Changbin's personality to a T. There's gym equipment all over the place, a big bed in the middle, a door you can only guess leads to a private bathroom and a TV that you're not sure was ever used. But again, your friend only comes by the house once in a while since he lives in an apartment downtown with Chan and Jisung.

Changbin managed to convince Jisung that it would be a good way to promote 3racha if they threw a party and it didn't take much convincing to the frat president since that guy loves partying.

You sit by the bed, trying to take deep breaths. The burning sensation in your chest is easing a bit with the calm and silence of the room. Silence that is immediately interrupted by the door of the bathroom being opened, just to show a half naked Han Jisung coming out of there with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

You two stare at each other for a minute, both not sure what to do next, both frozen. You manage to stand up, turning your back to him, face burning with embarrassment.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know there was someone already here”, you clarify. “I- I knocked on the door”, you inform him as if that could change anything.

Jisung finds your reaction funny, he didn't take you for the shy type, who gets flustered by seeing a man like this.

“I was showering, I didn't hear the knock”, he says, walking to Changbin's wardrobe to get some clothes he leaves there for eventual emergencies since the frat house is closer than his house to the university.

“Yeah, I guessed that”, you gulp, trying to calm your beating heart. You didn't get to take a good look at him, but the little you did made you quite surprised. Jisung is pretty athletic and hot.

“You can turn around now”, he says. You do it slowly, still embarrassed.

“I'm sorry again”, you sigh.

“It's okay, it can happen”, he shrugs, sitting on the bed. He can't help but look at you too for a moment, you're wearing a deep green bikini that goes perfectly with the tone of your skin. You have a thin transparent shirt that doesn't leave much to the imagination making him bite his bottom lip. If you try to make a move on him again right now, he won't be able to say no.

However, his not very pure thoughts are interrupted by your uneasiness, shifting your weight from a leg to another, hands trying to cover your thighs. Did he look at you for too long? Did he make you uncomfortable? Jisung diverts his gaze from you immediately, he's always proud to say that he's not the same as the other guys who are just horny and nothing more, but look at him now.

“I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable”, he stands up, ready to leave the room, “I'm sorry”

“No, you didn't make me uncomfortable”, you say, taking a step closer to him to stop him from leaving. “I was already feeling not great”, you clarify.

“Did something happen?” He asks, worried.

“No- I-”, you stop yourself from talking more, why do you actually want to talk to him about your problems? You don't even know him. “I'm having a bad day, my self esteem is kinda low so I feel like everyone is staring at every single flaw I have”

Jisung stops for a moment, malfunctioning. His head tilting to the side as he stares at you with furrowed brows.

“Exactly which “flaws” are we talking about?” He asks, making quotes with his fingers.

“I don't know”, you glance down to your feet, feeling embarrassed. “There are so many girls here who are much prettier than me”, you sigh, “oh, I'm not jealous of them, they are great. I'm a huge activist of women hyping up other women”, you add quickly. “Usually I won't let myself compare to other people, but when I'm having one of these days I just can't help to think things like: is my hair pretty enough? Should I go on a diet? Maybe I should hit the gym more often so I can look like that”, you sigh, you sound ridiculous. You are supposed to make him want to go out with you, not scare him with all your insecurities.

Jisung stares at you for a few seconds, realization hitting him. So you're human too, he already knew that, but seeing the pretty and popular y/n come out of the pedestal people built for her, makes him believe that maybe you're very different from what he thought about you.

“I'm sure you don't need me to tell you this”, Jisung clears his throat, trying to not sound like an idiot, “but I think you're pretty and even though you may have some flaws, everyone has. I can assure you yours are not in your looks”

You feel your cheeks growing hotter, that's surprising, a guy never managed to make you blush.

“But you said I'm not your type”, you pout, seizing the opportunity to tease him.

“Well, I had to say something so you would stop coming after me”, he sighs, “clearly it didn't work”

“So, will you go out with me?” You ask, hopeful and he sighs.

“Why do you want to go out with me so badly?”

“I already told you, you're cute. Also, you make me feel at ease”, it's not a lie. Jisung is the first person other than your friends that effortlessly makes you comfortable.

“Fine”, he huffs, “I already gave you my number so just text me”, he tells you and you smile, is this finally happening? Did he finally say yes?

You planned a whole date in an amusement park, it's cliche for a first date, although you never really went on a date there. You have never done this before for any guy you dated, but there's something about Han Jisung, you just want him to like you.

He's waiting for you in front of the park, looking nervous while scrolling through his phone. You bend down a bit, tilting your head to make him notice you.

“Hey”, you smile waiting for his greeting that doesn't come. Jisung is not easily impressionable but you just leave him speechless every time, he always takes a few seconds to take in your beauty before his brain starts functioning again.

That's the reaction you wanted from him and you are glad you managed to get it. You spent almost four hours getting ready, changed outfits at least ten times and did and redid your makeup over and over. In the end, you chose a natural look. You put on a tight high waisted skirt, a tank top and sneakers since you would be walking a lot. Your hair is down and your make-up is light, so it won't get smudged by hot weather.

“H-hi”, Jisung says, trying to recompose himself, he's not sure if he should comment on how pretty you look or if that would make you uncomfortable.

He can't help but think that it's wrong of him to be there with someone like you, someone totally out of his reach.

“What should we do first?” You ask excitedly, it's been years since the last time you went to an amusement park with your family.

“I think we can walk for a bit and see what catches our attention”, he says and you nod, walking into the park.

There are so many people, Jisung can't help but notice how you're looking around like a child getting to know a new place.

“Do you come often to these kinds of places?” He asks.

“Hm, not really”, you answer, turning around to look at him. “The last time was when I was a child probably”

“Oh?” He frowns. “You seemed excited, I thought your ex boyfriend must have brought you here at least a few times”

“Yeah, well, he was not really the romantic type”, you shrug, a sad smile on your lips.

Jisung doesn't like that, you always look confident and happy, he doesn't want to see you sad again.

“He is an idiot then”, he avoids your gaze, looking around while speaking, “If I had a girlfriend like you, I would move heavens and earth to make her happy”

You feel your heart skip a bit, your cheeks growing warmer and in a few seconds your whole face is burning. You can't believe Han Jisung is making you blush again, saying these words that are messing with your heartbeat.

“Should we go to the haunted house?” You ask awkwardly, trying to change the subject, pointing to the building at the end of the park. You try not looking at him, not sure if your cheeks are still red.

He hums, not really understanding why you look so flustered, he's sure you must hear this kind of thing all the time.

You two enter the house, looking around while walking into the dark. You were very confident in the beginning, you love horror movies, but jump scares are really not your cup of tea and that's the problem. The moment a doll(you assume) holding a knife with a ghost face mask pops out of nowhere you jump… into Jisung's arms. The way his arms immediately wrap around you in a protective position does something to your heart and honestly you feel hot all over.

You didn't even notice the little scares he got, or how he squeezed you every time some scary character showed up. The only thing you noticed was his unexpected strong arms embracing you the whole time until you left the haunted house.

Jisung didn't want to let you go. The moment he felt the cold breeze touching his skin, he knew he had to step back, you are not scared anymore. But he just doesn't want to. You look fragile, shy, endearing. Jisung shakes his head, he shouldn't be thinking this, he thought he would be immune to your charms, but it turns out that he understands now why all those guys fawned over you.

He tries taking a step back, threatening to get away from you but you snuggle closer to him, a hand swinging fast to your shoulder so you could grip his hand in place.

“Can- can you keep holding me for a bit?” You ask awkwardly, not really wanting to look him in the eye.

You had no idea you missed being touched this much, you never noticed how cold Seunghoon’s touch was until you felt Jisung's warm hands on you. You're embarrassed for looking so fragile in front of him but not enough for you to let go, not at that moment.

“Yeah, sure”, he tells you, coming closer again and squeezing you against his chest. “Should we walk around for a bit?”

You nod, too lost in his scent to say anything.

Jisung felt strange for a moment. He's not used to letting his instincts take control, he's a very restrained guy. But he can't help but peek at your thighs when the skirt you're wearing rides up a bit, you're tiptoeing while trying to shoot the target with the water gun you have in your hands, like that would help you win.

“Do you really want that plushie?” He asks when you lose once more. “You could probably buy a better one with the money you're spending”, he points out and you pout.

“Where's the fun in that?” You cross your arms in front of your chest. “It's so much more exciting to win the prize”

Jisung finds you cute, you are just so different from all the rumors and how he thought you would be. Other than being someone who's high and mighty or arrogant, you're cute and funny.

Defeated, he sighs, paying for another round. This time he's the one trying.

It's difficult the first time. He never played this game so he has to get used to and understand how to win.

Jisung doesn't notice but you're not looking at the booth or to the target, you're looking at his face. He looks more handsome when he's focused, he has his lips pressed in a thin line and his grip on the water gun makes you shudder just thinking about how that grip would feel on you.

After a few tries, Jisung wins, asking you to choose what plushie you want.

“That one”, you point to the big quokka hanging in the wall. “It looks a bit like you”, you say when you get the plushie, lifting enough so you can compare it with Jisung.

“I'm cuter”, he pouts.

“Definitely”, you assure him, hugging your new plushie while Jisung’s ears grow hotter.

“Should we go to the ferris wheel?” He asks, looking at the time. It'll probably be your last ride since it's already late.

“Yes!” You jump excitedly, “I never had the chance before”, you say while you two walk in the direction of the big attraction.

“Not even when you were a child?” He asks, remembering you said that was the last time you went to an amusement park.

“My parents are not very fun to be around and my little brother was too young”, you say, shaking your head, “I was never very proficient in doing things by myself so I just didn't go”, you shrug.

Jisung feels that there's more to unpack into that topic, but he's not sure if you want to talk about it with him or right now. So he just slides his arm over your shoulder, surprising you by his bold move. You can feel your cheeks growing hot, are you blushing again?

When you hear the gears turning, excitement spreads all over your body but as soon as the cabin stops in the air, you're not so confident anymore.

“It's quite high, isn't it?” you say, looking down, feeling a little dizzy.

“Are you afraid of heights?” Jisung asks, panicked, seeing your face turning pale.

“No, of course not”, you shake your head frantically while shrinking in your seat, “I can't, I'm always at the top of the pyramid in our cheer stunts”, you tell him.

A sudden wave of air brushes over the cabin, making it shake slightly and you turn even more pale if that's even possible.

“You know it's different right?” He grabs you by the arm, pulling you closer to him. Jisung slides one of his hands on your waist, squeezing you close to him and with the other hand he cups your face, making you look at him. “Keep looking at me, you don't have to look down”

Jisung doesn't know why he feels this urge to protect you, of all the people he knows, you're probably the one he thinks needs the least protection. You keep staring at him, he is pretty, his lips are plump and inviting.

“Are you going to kiss me?” You ask when he licks his lips, huge doe eyes staring at him and waiting.

“Do you want me to?” He asks back, not really sure of what to do. Jisung is not certain, his heart is beating fast and his hands are sweating, you look so beautiful, so close to him.

So when you nod, he just loses control of every part of himself that was holding him back. He's sure after this, there's no going back, he's lost forever, but maybe he doesn't mind if it means it's you he's lost in.

His lips are soft, clumsily pressing against yours. You can tell he's unsure of how to proceed then why does his grip on you make you burn? He's squeezing your waist against his body like you're going to disappear if he doesn't hold you strongly and the hand he has cupping your cheeks, slowly slides to your hair, pulling it lightly, making you whimper.

In an instant his lips are not on yours anymore, he's trailing kisses down to your neck. You shiver, feeling his warm lips against your cold skin.

“Ah, Ji-Jisung”, you gasp when he bites your neck, sucking the area so deliciously it makes you bite your lips so you won't moan.

He hears your plea, kissing you once again and you notice you are the one that didn't know how to proceed. You've been squirming in his hands this whole time without touching him at all. You take a hand to his face, caressing his cheek and the other goes to his hip, pulling you even closer to him but before you can go further, the shake of the cabin going back down takes you out of your haze. You're in public, you had absolutely forgotten about that.

You stop the kiss, giving a peck on his lips before moving away. He looks disheveled, lips swollen and eyes searching for yours in an attempt to know exactly what you are thinking. Did you like it? Did you hate it? Now that he got a taste of something he should have remained oblivious to, he's not sure he'll be able to let go.

The ride home was awkward, to say the least. You are silent the whole time and Jisung is freaking out. He can't help but think he screwed up really badly. How the hell could he make you lose all interest with just a couple of kisses? Did he go too far by giving you a hickey? Maybe you don't like this kind of thing, you're a cheerleader after all, your image is important.

You on the other hand, have too many thoughts running through your mind, never did a man make you feel so desired with just a kiss. The way he embraced you so possessively was too much for you, Seunghoon never did anything like that. You were always the one searching for his touch, for some affection but it was never quite enough. His touches never really gave you what you wanted, you always thought it was weird, you thought maybe there was something wrong with you.

But how could Jisung make you feel so many things with a simple touch? A simple kiss? You're so lost in thoughts that you don't even notice when the car stops.

“We’re here”, Jisung says, not really looking at you.

You look at him, seeing him biting his bottom lip while squeezing the wheel.

“I had fun”, you tell him, shyly. His head snaps at you, a deep scowl on his face.

“You did?” He asks confused and you giggle, tilting your head.

“Yeah”, you bite your bottom lip, leaning over him without breaking eye contact. “I thought I made it clear by almost melting in your arms while you kissed me”, you tease, seeing his ears growing red.

“I thought maybe I did something wrong, you were quiet”, he looks at you waiting for some more reassurance.

“I'm sorry”, you cup his face, caressing his cheek, “it's been a long time since I felt the way you made me feel, I needed time to recover”, you tell him, pulling him in for a brief kiss.

“Wait, but what about-”

“That's what I'm telling you”, you chuckle, bitterly, “can you imagine feeling more in a night than you ever felt in a year with someone else? It really makes a girl think”

“Ah”, he nods, understanding what you're saying now. “Then, can I call you when I get home?” He asks eagerly, now that he knows that you did enjoy your time with him.

“I'd be mad if you didn't”, you give a peck on his lips, getting out of the car and walking to your front door, waving goodbye to him.

Walking into your empty house you come back to reality. For a moment, just a moment, while having fun with Jisung, you forgot how lonely you really are. It's always been like this, you're already used to it.

Your parents always wanted a boy, so it was disappointing for them when they had a girl. They tried for years to have a boy, getting more and more frustrated as time went by. You were five when they finally made it, their desired son was born and you were left aside.

It's not like they gave you any attention before, but after your brother was born, you were completely forgotten. The first time you went to an amusement park was when you were eight. It was your birthday and you begged them to take you there but in the end you couldn't really enjoy anything. Your brother was too little to play in anything and your parents didn't really want to play with you.

You feel a single tear run down your cheek but you shake your head, you shouldn't be doing that right now. You had fun with Jisung but that's that, you don't want another heartbreak the same as with Seunghoon.

You feel your phone buzzing, taking it out of your pocket to see Jisung's name lightening the screen and an involuntary smile grows on your lips, completely ignoring what you just thought.

“Hey, did you arrive safely?” You ask, walking up the stairs.

“Yeah”, he says, not sure why exactly he wanted to call you. He already said goodnight to you, did he want to hear your voice again? Why is he being so weird tonight?

“Okay, that's good”, you chuckle, putting the phone on speaker to start undressing.

Jisung sits in his bed, he knows you're probably tired but he doesn't want to hang up.

“What are you doing?” He asks, hearing the shuffle on the other side of the line.

“I'm changing”, you answer nonchalantly, not knowing how red his whole face turns the moment you finish saying that.

He doesn't say anything, making you look to the phone to check if he's still there.

“Want some pictures?” You ask playfully, making him choke on his own breath, coughing violently.

“No, I mean we- we just had our first date- I- I don't want you to think- it's too soon”, he rambles saying all that in half a second, making you laugh genuinely while you wander around your room.

You snap a picture of yourself, sending it to him and he freezes when he sees the notification. When he opens the text though, you're wearing a cute pajama with bees stamped on it, making him laugh too.

“You're cute”, he says and you stop in your tracks.

“It's been years since someone last called me cute”, you pout, sliding under your covers.

Jisung guessed that much, your type of beauty is not on the cute side. You have sharp features, most people could say you're on the sexy side and he would too, before tonight. Now, under the cover of a popular hot girl, he found a girl who's hot and popular but can be cute and funny too.

“Goodnight, y/n”, he says, throwing himself back in the bed.

“Goodnight”, you say, feeling your eyes heavy after hearing his goodbye.

Part 2

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

[magneto-was-fucking-right]

The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 8

Prompt: After suffering an almost lethal injury in combat, Simon "Ghost" Riley expected a dull, and uneventful leave back at his shitty apartment. His new next-door neighbor ruins his plans. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (named Riley Thomas for plot purposes)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Disclaimer: slow burn; neighbor!Simon; explicit sexual content; unprotected sex;

Chapter Summary: In which Simon and his neighbour exchange confessions (and bodily fluids).

Word Count: 3.9K

Come Monday evening, Simon Riley found himself facing his hardwood floors, strong, firm biceps holding him steady in a strong plank. 

The heavy rain splattered loudly against his windows, the howling winter wind unrelenting against the building’s edges. He had turned the small heater on hours ago, but he knew if he wasn’t settling his daily score of push-ups he would be freezing regardless.

Johnny had left the previous evening, taking the overly excited pup out of his neighbor’s hands, and Simon had busied himself with deep cleaning the flat, finishing the day with some much needed exercise to take the edge off. He both loathed and yearned for the anxious nerves bubbling in his stomach everytime he thought about his last encounter with the young woman next door.

He had found no relief in the familiar touch of his own hand, nothing nearly satisfying enough to keep his mind from wandering back to her kitchen, and the wetness coating his fingers inside her warmth. 

He felt his cock twitch in his sweatpants once again, permanently hard with the worst case of blue balls he had ever experienced, since he first felt her eager grip around his base, and the languid strokes that had almost brought him over the edge. Johnny hadn’t shut up about having caught them in the middle of something, despite Simon’s unyielding denial and threats to dump his corpse over the canal, and he knew he would never let it go.

He pulled himself off the floor, joints popping semi-painfully as he checked his watch.Simon couldn’t deny the unsettling concern twisting in his stomach as he checked the time again: Riley should have been home at least an hour ago. He admonished himself for having studied her routine so well, knowing she would most likely find it creepy, but as soon as he pulled his hoodie over his head, he heard her keys jiggle in the hallway.

As per their usual routine, he waited for her to be ready to spend some time with him, putting on his face mask and walking over to the stove, beginning to heat up dinner as he heard her move about. 

Was that…sniffling? 

He knew something was off the moment she meekly knocked on the door, and he wasn’t surprised to find tears rolling down her freckled cheeks, hair messy from the wind, still in her oversized scrubs reeking of cat piss.

“Bloody hell…” He recoiled from the stench. “Wha’ happened to you?”

“I had the worst day ever!” She cried weakly, shoulders slouched in defeat as Simon softly pulled her inside.

“I can see that, love.” He cocked his head to the right “Wanna talk about it?”

“I had to put down a puppy.” She sobbed into her hands and his heart broke at the pain in her voice, the way she trembled. “Then we got two feral cats to spay and one of them pissed all over me, I stepped on dog shit on the way home, got soaked from the rain because I forgot my umbrella and my hot water isn't working.”

She sighed, exhausted, and Simon waited patiently for her breaths to slow down, stepping closer carefully.

Then he wrapped his arms around her smaller frame, engulfing her in a loving embrace that had her head buried in his chest. At first she had resisted, palms pressed against the muscled span of his broad shoulders.

“Simon…I stink.” 

“So do I, love.” He muttered into her hair, holding her tighter until eventually she relaxed, sighing deeply at the comforting touch, her hands holding onto his hoodie as if she was afraid he would let go too soon. He wouldn’t.

“I ain’t very good with words.” He admitted, arms still secured around her back as she inhaled his scent, his chin propped up on her head. “But how about you take a shower here while I fix yours, and then we eat some dinner, yeah?”

“You can’t always be the one cooking, you know.” She frowned, lifting her head up to look at him.

“Nonsense. M’ home all day anyway.” His thumb wiped away stray tears, a gesture he had so quickly become accustomed to. “Besides, we both know I do it much better.”

“Asshole.” Riley giggled, wiping her nose, and Simon smiled under his mask in genuine happiness.

***

Riley Thomas crossed her arm over her chest, fully naked in her neighbor’s bathroom as she reached for the fluffy towel he had arranged for her. Her scrubs and underwear were discarded on a messy pile on the impressively clean tiles, and she grimaced at the view.

She shivered, freezing, despite the heater Simon had bothered to move to warm up the small space while she washed, quickly realizing she had forgotten to ask him to retrieve some of her own clothes.

“Simon?” She called out nervously from behind the door, but got no response. She sighed deeply before walking out into the hallway, towel wrapped tight around her body as she walked around the flat, trying to find him.

The decorations were overall scarce, most of the rooms in desperate need of a woman’s touch, but she couldn’t help being surprised at how immaculate he had left his home, so in contrast with the constant layer of dust and pet fur in her apartment.

She slowly walked into the last room at the end of the corridor, feeling vulnerable as she found his bedroom, just as tidy as the rest of the house. Simon was nowhere to be seen, but she felt oddly watched as she noticed a picture on top of a dresser, the dim light coming from the window barely enough to make out the silhouettes. She stepped closer, curiously.

Two very young boys smiling brightly, sitting on a young woman’s lap. A scrawny, odd looking man behind the three of them. The father, she figured. 

Riley marveled at the chubby blonde boy’s face, frozen in permanent happiness, big brown eyes so innocent and endearing. She lifted a finger absentmindedly, eager to touch the family portrait.

As her skin neared the cool glass, cased between the frame, a deep, gravely voice spoke, like a ghost in the shadows:

“I was 8. Tommy was still a little lad.” 

She startled, eyes snapping back to him, gripping the towel closer to her frame.

“I was looking for you.” She muttered, as a form of apology, but he didn’t seem even remotely upset.

“Just fixed your shower.” He lifted her apartment keys, turning on a small lamp and stepping closer, setting them down on top of the dresser.

“Did you check on Milo?”

“‘Course. Big geezer. Sleeping on your pillow.” Simon kept a respectful distance, but frowned at her bare feet on the cold floors.

“I forgot to ask you for my clothes.”

“Thought about’it. Didn't wanna touch your stuff without your permission, though.” He shrugged apologetically before pointing at his dresser. “Make yourself at home, take whatever you need.”

Riley turned away from his gaze shyly, looking over her shoulder at his room.

“Your bed is huge.”

“I’m a big man.”

“That you are.” Her eyebrow rose in delight as she quickly looked him up and down, and Simon didn’t miss the mischievous glint in her eyes at the double meaning of her words.

He blushed, trying his best to keep his eyes on her face, taking the initiative to pick warm, comfortable clothes for her to wear.

“Your mother is beautiful.” She spoke softly, careful of what her words might trigger.

Simon froze, silent for a whole minute, before he replied:

“That she was.” His heart ached at the thought, but Riley’s presence seemed to somewhat soothe the deep, unforgiving pain of grief. 

She went quiet, afraid she had overstepped some unspoken boundary, but Simon was quick to dismiss it as he passed her a pair of thick woolen socks.

“Put those on, before you catch yourself a cold.” 

“You know…I didn’t expect you to own face wash.” She tried to change the subject as she sat on his bed, dismissing his command.

Simon turned, offended.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know…big, broody, mysterious guy…just didn’t seem like the type to worry about skin care.” She shrugged, teasing him.

“I’ll let you know I have wonderful skin.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Who taught you about skin care?” Riley leaned back on her arms, less worried about holding the towel as she relaxed further into his bed.

“Why? You jealous?” 

She pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Maybe.”

“Hm.” Simon stepped closer, slowly kneeling in front of her bare legs. Her heart skipped a beat as his calloused fingers casually wrapped around her cold ankles, grabbing the socks and pulling them gently over each of her feet. 

“I’m not the one going on dates.” He fired back, and she felt her cheeks heat at the accusation, removing a foot from his grasp.

“Never thought it’d bother you.” 

“Never said it did.” He countered, heavy gaze challenging hers.

“Well, did it?”

“Did it what?”

“Bother you?”

He cocked his head to the right, considering his next words carefully. He was about to stand up, but she pressed her foot into his shoulder, holding him down. Simon’s breath quickened at the bold gesture, fingers digging deeper into her calf, teetering on the edge of self control.

“You’re a single woman.” He grumbled, noncommittally. “You’re free to do whatever you please.”

“That right?”

“Of course.”

“What if I want to do you?”

The tension between the two only deepened as she leaned forward, chest heaving under that damn towel he couldn’t wait to get rid of.

“Choices have consequences.” He muttered, gaze unfaltering as he gently grabbed her ankle and slowly lowered it from his shoulder. Instead, he yanked it forward, pulling the young woman closer to the edge of his mattress. If he so much as looked down he would have the perfect view of her naked sex, kneeling there so menacingly between her parted knees. His eyes, however, wouldn’t leave hers as he awaited for her next move.

Riley’s breath caught in her throat as she quickly held the towel against her breasts, legs trembling slightly. Goosebumps littered her skin as she bit her lip, considering his words.

“I want you.” She whispered, as if afraid the words would force him to retreat and hide behind his cold and detached demeanor. “I don’t care about anything else.”

“You should.” He leaned closer, fingers trailing up her calves and the back of her knees. “There’s lots of things you don’t know about me.”

She cradled his face carefully, looking down into his eyes so adoringly Simon felt his heart skip a beat. And then her fingers were hooked on the sides of his mask, pulling it down ever so carefully. He saw her hold her breath in anticipation.

A strong nose, probably broken one too many times, Riley noticed as she traced the small bump with her pointer finger. A massive scar that went all the way from his left ear to the underside of his chin, splitting the side of his chapped lips in a pinkish and white trail of skin. She felt her hand tremble as she softly grazed it with her nail, feeling his fingers gripping her legs tighter. Her thumbs caressed the sides of his stubbled, strong jaw as she admired his features in a trance.

“Then tell me.” She begged, face so close to his they were sharing avid breaths.

“For starters” His dark brown eyes finally moved down to her lips, incapable of facing her potential judgment “I’m 35 and I ain’t never been in a serious relationship. Not that there haven’t been any deserving women. I just thought they deserved better than me.”

Riley opened her mouth to speak, but he shushed her with a gentle finger to the lips, silently willing her to listen.

“Don’t have much of an education either. After I was done with school I was a butcher’s apprentice, and then I joined the army. All I was ever good for was a night of quick fun. No strings attached.” Simon admitted, large hands now back on her legs, rubbing soothing circles on the cooling skin.

“I don’t care.” She whispered, joining her forehead to his, fingers delving into his blonde locks.

“You’re not listening.”

“I am! I just-”

“I’ve killed people, Riley.”

Simon could physically feel the change in demeanor. He expected it. He noticed how her shoulders slouched, how dozens of questions flashed through her mind and her fiery persistence was considerably doused when faced with reality. People always preferred to ignore what being a soldier actually meant.

“I’m damn good at what I do.” Her fingers tightened in his scalp. “And my performance solely relies on the premise that I have nothing to lose. If I allow myself to indulge in this, as much as I’d love to - and trust me, I fuckin’ want to - I won’t be able to keep doin’ my job. And the job is all I know, all I’ve ever had.”

A long minute of silence ensued, their foreheads still joined together.

Simon’s stomach twisted with anxiety, and he could feel cold sweat starting to bead on his back. He was trying to mentally prepare for her rejection, but he realized he couldn’t. He had never cared this much about anyone before.

What he wasn’t expecting was the feel of her soft, tentative lips pressed against his own, cold on warm skin as her fingers locked him into place in a determined kiss. Simon groaned into her mouth, blood immediately rushing down as her tongue slowly explored his parted lips, fingers pulling on his scalp.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t fight it any longer as Riley pulled him impossibly close, hands descending into the hem of his hoodie and tentatively roaming under the fabric. She sighed contently into his lips, feeling the firm muscle and the soft trail of hair she was so eager to explore.

She gasped, tilting her head back as his warm lips moved to her neck, calloused hands secured around her thighs, kneading the flesh slowly. With eyes shut, thoughts lost in the bliss of finally feeling his tender touch, Riley pulled down the towel, baring her round breasts and letting it pool on her navel.

Simon’s lustful gaze darkened, descending his trail of wet kisses all the way down to her collarbone, lovebites marked upon her cooling skin as his hand reached up to knead her tit.

“You sure about this?” he murmured against her skin.

“Are you gonna make me beg?” She sighed deeply in pleasure as his thumb and pointer finger rolled her peaked nipple carefully. He licked a long stripe between the valley of her breasts, humming softly with eyes shut as if he was savoring her taste, before his lips left sloppy kisses along her other mound.

“Maybe.” He teased, tongue darting out to circle her left nipple, wetting it for a few seconds before retreating as soon as he felt her fisting the comforter, a strangled moan barely having left her pretty lips. “I think I’d enjoy the sound of that.”

“Simon, please…”She whispered as he licked the other one, this time for longer, before suckling on it, a deep groan rumbling in his chest.

“I was right, I do enjoy it.” He taunted before sucking her tits patiently, and agonizingly slow.

Riley trembled under his touch, trying not to seem too desperate as warm slick pooled between her naked thighs, fingers tangling in his scalp and pulling roughly as he reached a particularly sensitive spot that made her walls clench.

“Fuck” She moaned as his mouth parted from her chest, thumbs rubbing circles on her nipples, coated in his saliva. “Please…”

“Please what, love?” She sighed in desperate frustration, grinding her hips into the air when he pinched her sensitive skin.

“I need more.” She pawed at his hoodie, trying to pull it over his head.

“Greedy little thing.” Simon rumbled as he helped her strip his torso, a mass of muscle, scars and tattoos that left her breathless as her hands eagerly reached for his abdomen. But Simon wasn’t done yet, palm pressing against her chest, softly coaxing her to lay back down on the mattress.

“Simon…”

“Hm.” He grunted, lips already pressed into her inner thigh as he lifted her knees, placing her calves on each of his shoulders. He felt her legs tremble uncontrollably as he removed the towel from her lower body at once, exposing her glistening cunt, and making his half-hard cock twitch in his briefs.

“You don’t have to” She muttered as he sucked a hickey into her supple flesh, nearing the apex of her thighs, stubble tickling her sensitive skin. Riley’s fingers dug into the comforter, eyes shut in anticipation and nervousness as she felt his open mouthed kisses almost reach her folds.

“Don’ worry, love. This will be the best meal you’ll ever serve me.” She smiled shyly, cheeks heating at his gravely words.

Simon stuck out his tongue, but instead of placing it where she needed him most, he gave a series of slow, calculated licks to the delicate skin right next to her folds, as if he mimicked what he would do to her bundle of nerves in a few seconds. Riley whimpered at the tease, trying to wiggle her hips to reposition them under his mouth, but his hands held her down firmly.

“Where were we?”

“Huh?” She groaned in frustration, and he chuckled against her skin.

“With the begging.”

“Simon!” She whined as he licked around her folds once again, humming contently as he avoided the center of her sex. “Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please, eat me out!” She sighed deeply, cheeks bright red at the filthy words, but the embarrassment was quickly forgotten as he placed a delicate kiss on her clit, slowly building it up with languid movements of his tongue, side to side, as if he was making out with her cunt.

Riley let out a strangled moan, slack jawed and back arching from the bed as he carefully kissed, licked, and sucked on her soaked folds, tongue circling the small bud expertly, before moving down and teasing her entrance. Her hand reached down blindly, and he was quick to hold it with his own, fingers interlacing as he lapped at her sex hungrily.

The young woman was burning up under his touch, breath quickening too soon, too easily, and she felt embarrassed at how fast she’d crumble if he kept up his ministrations.

“Simon..”A warning.

“Hm.” He grunted into her, lost in her pleasure before he aimed his tongue lower and licked her from hole to hole, and then hole to hole to clit.

“Oh fuck.” She moaned loudly, and he hummed in approval, repeating the action again and again until he felt her tightening her grip on his hand, the other hand firmly gripping his locks.

“Please.” She begged, and he couldn’t refuse, using his thumb to collect the wetness at her entrance and sinking it into her tight hole slowly.

“I’m gonna cum.” Her voice broke, chest heaving.

“I know.” He latched his mouth onto her swollen clit, tongue gliding on it from side to side in quick movements as his calloused thumb slowly massaged her inside.

The pleasure blinded her as she reached her peak. The way her whole body trembled at once, toes curling and breath caught in her throat, back arched as she fisted his hair painfully tight. Simon didn’t care, he didn’t stop for one second, even when his tongue began cramping.

At last, Riley grabbed his shoulders, still panting as she reached for him, and he made an effort to get off his knees.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He groaned as his joints popped painfully.

She was already grinning and giggling as he held her gaze.

“Not a word, kid.” He warned and she laughed even harder, reaching her arms up for him to join her.

Simon pulled down his sweatpants and briefs, rock hard cock springing free before he carefully placed his body on top of hers, forearms bracing his weight.

“Hello, love.” He kissed her nose tenderly, before kissing her cheeks, her chin and her forehead, as she had once done to him on that drunken night. She smiled happily, before pulling him in for a passionate kiss that tasted like her pleasure, legs spread to accommodate him.

“Hello, Lieutenant.” She teased and he nibbled on the side of her neck playfully, making her giggle. “Getting a little too old to stay on your knees for so long?”

“I didn’ hear ya complainin’ two minutes ago.” He taunted, hands rubbing the sides of her thighs as her nails grazed his muscled back. 

“Fair enough.” She reached down between their bodies, pumping his thick cock with a lustful gaze.

“Still up for it, love?” Simon tried to not act as eager as he felt, so close to his peak that he’d be lucky if he gave her three good pumps.

“Get inside of me.” She commanded firmly, spreading further.

“Yes m’am.” 

Simon Riley obeyed, always good at following orders. 

He rubbed his leaking tip on her sensitive clit, eliciting a low moan from her pretty lips, before trying to sink it in slowly.

“Bloody hell…you’re so tight.” He groaned into her ear, stopping slightly as he heard her hiss in pain at the stretch of his thick shaft.

 “You okay, love?”

“It hurts…” She whispered, legs trembling at the intrusion once he penetrated a few inches deeper deeper. “It’s okay, I’ll get used to it.”

“If you need to stop, we stop, yeah? No questions asked.” He reassured, kissing her sweaty brow.

“Please don’t stop.” She begged, readjusting her hips for a smoother entrance.

Simon kissed her neck tenderly, letting his cock sink into her wet heat a little deeper, feeling her breath quicken with his own.

“Relax, love. It’ll make it easier.” He coaxed into her ear, feeling her nod against his skin as her body slowly loosened up under him.

He began a series of shallow thrusts, working his way inside her tight hole inch by inch, feeling his meaty length get progressively wetter, movements becoming sloppier as he finally bottomed out, the sound of skin slapping on skin almost drowning out their moans.

“Oh. My. God.” She whimpered in between thrusts, Simon’s pace quicking as he felt her moving past the pain and into that fucked out expression he had dreamt of seeing so many nights.

“If you keep moaning like that, this is gonna be over sooner than expected, sweetheart.” He panted, body now slamming forcefully into hers, her tits bouncing with each rut of his hips.

“I hope your pullout game is good” She blurted out, eyes rolling back as he hit a lovely spot inside her walls, wrapping her legs around his hips.

“Yeah, princess, me too.” 

Simon couldn’t take it anymore. Her breathy moans, the headboard slamming, his heavy sack sticking to her sweaty skin each time he moved, the tight grip of her walls around his fat cock and the vulgarity of her spread legs were sending him spiraling.

But it was the adoring way in which she looked at him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him intensely, before looking at him with hazy eyes and uttering the four most terrifying words he had ever heard, that made him shoot a load inside of her.

“I love you, Simon.”

Fuck. 

He came apart.

A/N: You guys already know the drill...so sorry for taking forever to post! As always I love your feedback, messages and asks, so please keep them coming <3

TAG LIST (I hope I haven't forgotten anyone)

@xaestheticalien @bossva @missmae3004 @yyiikes @lillysfrogsandbogs @missmae3004 @spicyspicyliving @shuttlelauncher81 @generaldestinychild @semendreaminsblog @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @iloveghost900 @anaromanov9 @flaminghotcheetosinhaler @cigsm3rcy @lucycastlesworld @idkimjusthere100 @impossiblyshycollector @bigfatpumpum @coldmuffinbanditshoe

[jasper-book-stash]

Things that irritated me about Werewolf Magick: Authentic Practical Lycanthropy by Denny Sargent:

I naturally deduct a point for "magic-with-a-K", how dare you make me spell "magickian"

I am deducting another point for the repeated usage of "shaman" for cultures that very pointedly are not Tungusic like the word "shaman" is

I would have loved to see some citations about all of these werewolf cults being "well accepted"

it was weird to drag genetics into it with "84% shared DNA between humans and wolves"

the Wiccan-aligned Triple Goddess stuff really reared its head on pages 36 and 37 and as someone who is not Wiccan my eye twitched

I feel like the author over-romanticizes a version of the "wild past" that may or may not have actually existed

the left brain-right brain stuff that gets brought up in the symbol section is based on outdated science

the usage of "third eye" while talking about the werewolf eye symbol in that same section also made my eye twitch (though the author is initiated into a whole slew of practices spanning what might be the entire goddamn Northern Hemisphere)

Things I liked about the book:

the author outlined very clearly who the book was meant for and how to use it (linearly)

there are safety and health disclaimers from the get-go that are reiterated in their respective areas

the bibliography is FUCKING HUGE compared to the average witchcraft text

there are in-text citations all over the damn place

the author reminds us that physically transforming into a wolf isn't possible (but you might grow more body hair according to him)

the author reminds us to be physically safe and not get arrested

there's a strong pro-diversity and pro-furry but anti-Nazi stance in the text

the in-book glossary is very helpful (even though it's in the text rather than being an appendix, I fixed this by using a post-it note to mark it)

the author has a firm stance of being respectful of animal remains while working with them in one's practice (not just wolf remains, but all remains) and offers alternatives to wolf remains for those of us who are worried about endangered wolves

there are a bunch of examples for substitutes of things that are still thematically appropriate with the emphasis to trust your Animalself

there's a full breakdown of the author's tools and their uses along with how they should be made or obtained

there are lots of exercises and rituals as you go which are thorough but easy to follow

the author clearly outlines the expectations and possibilities of this paradigm

the author actually believes in evolution (thank the gods)

the author explains where some rituals are based on and the context needed behind them

the author re-reviews necessary information mentioned beforehand before building on it in dedicated areas

Even though that many "Jasper is redacting a point" parts would usually warrant a 7 or 8 out of 10... My final verdict is that Werewolf Magick is a 9/10 book despite the parts where I want to elbow-drop the author in the Werewolf Arena, but you have to be part of a very particular niche to enjoy this book. Honestly wanting to fight the author is part of the appeal of this book.

[trazodone100mg]

I'm about to start reading the light novel version of The Summer Hikaru Died, and before I do I want to get a few questions and thoughts about the series and his character out of my head since it's been nagging me.

When did Hikaru die? I've been thinking about this recently. The start of the story takes place in the summer, six months after the 'real' Hikaru has already died. I'm going off of memory alone so the details are fuzzy, but I'd like to go back and reference the manga at some point to see if any dates are listed or months named. If the summer season spans late June to late September, that would mean Hikaru died in January to April, most likely in the winter, early spring at latest. If I remember right, it was rainy and cold when Yoshiki found Hikaru's body.

The 'summer' Hikaru died could be non-literal, as in Hikaru has been dead all this time, but the person Yoshiki knew didn't begin to fully disappear and be replaced in his heart until his suspicions were confirmed that day outside the convenience store. Hikaru didn't truly die until Yoshiki--the first person to find out--was allowed to properly grieve for him over the summer the story takes place. It gets philosophical from there; what is death, and what does it really mean to 'die' in a situation like this? Etc.

I would have a few questions if the story intends to take a more literal path, however, starting first and foremost with, "If Hikaru dies in the summer, does that mean Hikaru hasn't died yet?"

When we consider the title The Summer Hikaru Died, are we only considering the 'real' Hikaru?

I know the Japanese uses different characters in the spelling of the character's name to differentiate between the 'real' Hikaru and 'Hikaru', and Yoshiki does this in his head. Which spelling does the title of the series use? All genuine questions that may hold no water, but has been interesting to think about.

I also have pretty strong feelings about Hikaru's character, if you couldn't tell. And not just 'Hikaru', but the 'real' Hikaru and how his understated and very grounded characterization and emotions inform the 'Hikaru' we know. I think the author is extremely talented to be able to convey so much about him when we have been shown so little of him so far, and I think I understand him fairly well.

The most important thing to note right off the bat; I believe Yoshiki's feelings for the 'real' Hikaru were mutual. Which, I didn't at first! And Yoshiki certainly thought his feelings were completely one-sided as well. But after contemplating their characters and the dialogue, I've come to believe that their depth makes it easy to misinterpret.

I will once again insert a disclaimer that I am working on memory alone, so feel free to correct me at any point if I am mistaken, but my reasoning is as follows:

In the oneshot pilot that serves as a first draft of the series, 'Hikaru' explains when asked that he likes Yoshiki and believes his new body played a major role in influencing his feelings, since it already liked Yoshiki before he came to occupy it. As the 'real' Hikaru is dying, he regrets that he is unable to tell Yoshiki how he really feels, and asks the entity that possesses him to tell Yoshiki that he likes him, too. 'Hikaru' also mentions the curse; that the Indou's lovers are inevitably stolen away, that it has happened in the past between two men (which, on an only semi-related note, I have a ton of other questions I won't even touch here about the previous generation of Indous and Tsujinakas, and this may be entirely off-base but I can't shake the feeling there was...something similar going on between Yoshiki's emotionally distant father and Hikaru's dad, who was his best friend), and that the 'real' Hikaru saw himself reflected in that and was frightened by it.

But that was all a part of the first draft of the story, and we know not everything carried over to the story we know now. But I do believe we can still use it to gain some insight into the author's intent.

Yoshiki describes the 'real' Hikaru as mature and not oft to show big emotions. He wasn't the type to cry, but I have come to interpret his character as somewhat numbed and depressed, and the type to deflect with humor. Here's what I think did carry over; 'Hikaru' certainly likes Yoshiki (in his own, unique way), but in dialogue expresses that he's unsure if those feelings are entirely his own, and doesn't know what pieces belong to who between the two individuals known as Hikaru. The 'real' Hikaru was scared of his feelings for Yoshiki, for a few reasons. He could become a victim of the Indou family curse, he wouldn't be able to marry Yoshiki to prevent the curse befalling him given that they are both men (Hikaru's father makes it a point to tell him that the only way to stop the curse is to marry the one you love quickly), and growing up in the country, they have witnessed second-hand the consequences of not conforming in a town where everyone knows everyone's business (more than once, but specifically: "He's not sick, he's a homosexual.")

Hikaru's father was dead, he most likely felt that he needed to suppress his feelings of love for his best friend and had no way to move forward (my mind always goes back to how Hikaru, in a flashback at the start of vol. 1, turns away from Yoshiki when telling him he could probably find a girlfriend easily if he only tried), and carried the burden of performing whatever their family ritual entailed. He didn't commit suicide, but he died carelessly and only regretted that he would be leaving Yoshiki alone, as he was the only other person to truly understand how Yoshiki felt. And maybe his death was one means of protecting Yoshiki since he couldn't deny his feelings for him.

[judasrpc]

TIPS FOR WRITING COMBAT, TACTICS, AND / OR FIELD MEDICINE SCENARIOS PT. 2

Hello again! Coming out of the woodwork with my niche interests and hoping to pass along some information about writing things such as combat, tactical operations, and / or field medicine!

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional, nor am I someone who has served in the military or law enforcement in any capacity. Any information in this post is gained from personal research in mostly internet circles. Some topics may be unsettling/disturbing, so please take care in reading.

You can view part one of this post [HERE].

Note: This part will be written more in-depth, as the sources I've pulled from are either no longer accessible, or from narrators I would not feel comfortable platforming due to their motives for sharing this information (e.g., anti-human rights individuals with qualified backgrounds). Knowledge is power, but we don't have to platform fascists in order to share it (* ^ ω ^)

To start this post off, I'll share some archives I've found since part one! This way, if you're just looking for resources and don't want to read something super lengthy, this post is still (hopefully) useful to my fellow writers.

Safety Data Sheets [Archive] - A collection of safety data sheets for what looks like various types of compounds, mostly based around industrial work (e.g., concrete mixes, roof coatings, etc.). While arguably not relevant to this sort of topic focus, I think it could be in the right scenarios, especially as sheets provide first-aid instructions, hazard classification, and details about specific compounds.

War Medicine [Archive] - Definitely a more historical reference (dated 1918), but published by the American Red Cross Society in France covering… war medicine. Includes various diagrams and topics.

Field Manuals and Technical Manuals [Archive] - A collection of field and technical manuals from various military services spanning across various decades. I believe most of these are U.S.-based.

Now, for the in-depth written information, placed behind the "keep reading" button.

CLOSE-QUARTERS BATTLE (CQB) / MILITARY OPERATIONS IN URBAN TERRAIN (MOUT)

CQB is typically defined as a short duration, high intensity conflict characterized by sudden violence at close range. MOUT is an example of a scenario where CQB may be applicable.

When in these environments, it's important for your character(s) to know how to navigate them. The presence of closer-knit buildings, various entryways, and populated environments means there's a lot of risk for both them and those around them.

As such, one of the founding concepts is entry and clearance.

There are many different ways to enter and clear rooms within a building, but the three primary types are as follows:

Conventional (aka: Strong Walling) - The leading individual "commits" to the room by stepping in with their full body, pressing their back to the wall opposite to the door's attachment, and using their upper torso to sweep the room with their light/weapon.

Lateral - The leading individual enters the room at either a 90-degree angle to the door (straight toward back wall of room) or a 45-degree angle (toward the corner opposite to the door).

Framing - Rather than step into the room, the leading individual peeks around the door frame and conducts their sweep from within it (think of them as using the door frame as a "mount" for their weapon, if they have one).

These can be conducted solo, or with a wingman.

A wingman is usually one other individual who stacks beside the leading individual, and uses an over-the-shoulder vantage to provide a secondary set of eyes for cover, while also being able to cover tasks such as opening doors.

Then, there's navigating environments as teams. With teams, there comes a need to develop tactics. With CQB in particular, there are two primary types of strategies:

Dynamic - Rapid movement and clearance; Your character(s) are likely in a high-intensity/time-sensitive scenario where speed is more important than safety. In these scenarios, your character(s) is/are more likely to clear rooms by committing with their entry and flooding in if in a team.

Deliberate - Slower movement and clearance; Your character(s) are likely still in dire circumstance, but they're able to take the time and prioritize safety over speed. In these scenarios, your character(s) is/are more likely to clear rooms by framing and entering one at a time to ensure all angles are covered.

But not every room is a perfect rectangle with wider-open spaces. Regardless of the structure, dead space is an important factor to consider for characters both outside and within these environments.

Dead space simply refers to the space that has not been cleared by the individual(s) entering the space. There are a few different types, including:

Anchored - The object creating the dead space is anchored to a wall, and thus prevents flanking. This could be a dividing wall, and certain types of cabinetry or other furniture.

Unanchored - The object creating the dead space is not anchored to a wall, and thus allows for flanking. This can be… any piece of furniture, crates/boxes/shelves, even certain installation pieces such as a 360-fireplace or showcase tank/terrarium.

Low - The object creating the dead space cannot fully conceal an individual/individuals who are standing, but could if they were crouched or laying prone. This could be things such as couches, tables with cloth over them, etc.

High - The object creating the dead space is elevated above the entry point. This usually, and pretty much only, includes things like stairwells, but it could include higher cabinetry if your character(s) is/are creative enough or able to navigate that.

Moving away from specific scenarios, there is something I've seen written a lot in fanfic and in rp spaces that I think would be important to clarify:

Do. not. attempt. to. catch. a. falling. gun.

I'm serious! In active combat, this isn't as applicable because your character's goal is (ultimately) to neutralize whatever threat is in front of them. Beyond that, though, your character(s) should never attempt to catch.

"But why? Wouldn't you want to stop it from discharging?"

That is why.

Yes, the firearm may discharge when hitting the ground… but in catching it, your character(s) may also discharge it. Unless they know for a fact they will not grab the area around or within the trigger guard, it's highly likely that a finger/fingers will slip into the guard and, due to the force of the catch, end up pulling.

The best practice, especially for a character/characters who are skilled with firearms and versed in safety practices, is to put the hands up and let it fall. Step back, find cover if possible, and retrieve the firearm after it has landed.

And again, I am not responsible for what y'all do with this info. Read responsibly, and stay frosty!

[weepinglycoris]

The Many Sides of Ring Schwartz (Ring x Reader)

Seeing Ring’s face contort in such a way you didn't expect it to, it elicits a reminder.

(I got overwhelmed /pos seeing Ring’s grin like. Me when the twins are twinning. Have a short shot I made without much thought because I still have exams tomorrow LMAO)

Disclaimer: This is just a short oneshot I made for an unreleased character in a span of about an hour. Please don't take the characterization too seriously as this is just for fun. No pronouns mentioned.

Warnings: None

WC: 818

Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

“Are you alright?”

“…Huh?”

Things happened so fast, you didn't even realize that you found yourself being cradled in the strong arms of your partner. Mind still reeling from getting carried by Ring then gently placed down onto the ground, your eyes meet his as he knelt to your level.

“You're not hurt, are you?”

You looked down at yourself, then checked for any injuries by moving your limbs around. Nothing hurt, thankfully.

You then look at Ring’s expression, seeing the worry wash over his usually stoic face and suppress the urge to pinch it.

“I'm okay, don't worry.”

The moment you said that, relief replaced the worry in him and he nodded, reaching out to give your head a few awkward pats in an attempt to soothe you even if the surroundings haven't even sunk in.

“Good. Next thing is…”

You thought that it was adorable that Ring would be so expressive, it was like he wore his heart on his sleeve no matter how hard he tried to hide it by acting tough. Even as he was labeled as a guard dog, to you, he was like a lost puppy.

But then, you see it.

It was as natural as the subtle movement of his chest as he breathed. The expression that you found so lovable earlier had contorted, and you could've sworn you were looking at his twin as his eyes narrowed. His lips twisted into a smile that looked far too different from what you were used to, yet it felt like it had always been there.

…Perhaps you were just being ignorant of it.

“Stay here. I'll be right back.”

Ring stood up after turning away from you, and you could see the people that tried to hurt you let out terrified noises akin to a rat’s squeaks as they backed away from him. Watching his figure after that particular expression made you feel like he was a whole different person, and it was at this time that you remembered…

Ring is a part of Vogel.

The sides of himself that he would awkwardly share with you were only reserved for you. The times he would become flustered at your friendly gestures, the curious glint in his eyes as you would introduce new things to him, the little smiles he would have on his face after enjoying the time he spent with you…

…Others outside of his circle would never have that luxury.

For they will only see the cold, cruel way the fangs of a predator will dig into their necks with an unchanging apathy.

Swiftly, Ring took them out before they could even beg for their lives, and you could only remain where he had put you down, heart beating wildly to the sight.

It didn't take long for him to finish his retaliation, but as soon as he could tell that things were finally quiet, Ring turns back to you and returns to your side, kneeling in front of you again and preparing himself to carry you.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to show you that sight…”

It took you a second to respond, but you found the voice back in your throat again as the foreboding sense of danger he emitted had dissipated and he was back to being concerned for you.

“…No, it's okay.”

You took at good look at his face, seeing there was a drop of blood that stained it. Taking out a piece of cloth from your pocket, you reach out to wipe it off before putting it back. Ring makes a small, puzzled sound at your gentle gesture.

“What was that for?”

“You had some blood on your cheek.”

It may be messed up, but you felt your own lips turn up to a smile at the sight of his confusion. He also took a second to process what happened before opting to continue lifting you into his arms.

“H-Hey-!”

“…You're weird.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Ring doesn't answer, but you can pick up the small huff of amusement that he lets out and you feel your pulse quicken as he begins to walk.

“…Let's get you checked in case.”

“Ugh, I told you, I'm fine…”

“In case.”

You petulantly scoff at him as you crossed your arms, but you can never deny the sense of warmth you felt bloom in your chest with the careful way he treated you.

Ring had many sides to himself, and you can't help but find them all endearing and attractive. From the fangs he bares at others to the shy, almost lost eyes he would exclusively show you. Oh, and probably his twin and leader as well.

My writing is rusty asf so please forgive me I really just had to make this,, but I love Vogel sm I'll probably make brainrot of Nica and Darius next!!!

[wobbbiy]

Could we be granted a piece of Marlow lore? If you're willing ofc :)

Thank you so much for asking about her! <3 I love the opportunity to explore her a bit. I don't know how much current bandwidth I have for editing the actual fic content I have for her to make it posting "ready". But, I will share some key things about her and if I do get inspiration (and people like her), I will see about posting bigger chunks of my tragic little spy's story.

[MAR-794] Marlow, of the Hidden.

Hidden Agent Profile ID: MAR-794 Name: "Marlow" Class: Hunter Subclass: Void (at some point this does switch to Stasis.) Race: Human Handler: AUN-326 Specialty: Eliksni reconnaissance, Early Retirement*

"Find thy self. Know thy self. Destroy thy self. Shed thy self. Embrace a new skin. Become the many. We are as unseen. We are as death."

Key Marlow things:

If it isn't clear, she is one of Ikora's Hidden Agents.

She is directly supervised by her mentor, Aunor, and as such takes on a lot of Aunor's traits (grumpy, ruthless) and beliefs (initially, anyway).

Her pre-Risen self was a gunslinging outlaw from the old western United States, before her ghost found her gravesite (yes this is possible, individuals from older cultures have been risen into Guardians). She isn't aware of her past self, but her current self prefers hand cannons (*cough* Last Word *cough*) and lever action scout rifles almost exclusively which is probably directly linked to her old self being comfortable with those kinds of weapons.

Her Ghost is named Ivy, and they are incredibly close.

Most of her story happens in the timeframe of the formation of House Salvation/Riis-Reborn and afterwards. She is an Eliksni reconnaissance expert. She was on the front lines in identifying and gathering intel about the start of Riis-Reborn.

Knew Variks was on Europa before he announced himself there, but was monitoring him.

She is fluent in understanding of written/spoken Eliksni language, and has a lot of reverence towards their culture. Because of this, her duties VERY often conflict with her own personal beliefs. (But remember, the Hidden vow essentially prohibits her from holding these kinds of personal values, so she doesn't make this known publicly but it is an internal struggle for her).

She is a VERY good spy. She is thorough and careful. She uses Void invisibility often as well to help aid in hiding her presence during reconnaissance ops.

Because she is supervised by Aunor (who is often tasked to dispatch "bad" Guardians), Marlow has a similar role in addition to the Eliksni spying.

[ DISCLAIMER: This is where MY head canons deviate from actual LORE, so stick with me a bit and understand that I KNOW it isn't canon. :) ]

Deviation begins HERE: In lore, Aunor does not kill Ghosts, but rather kills the Guardian and brings back the dead body and the Ghosts in captivity. My head canon is that there was a small span of time where the Hidden were actually directed to provide final deaths to Guardians (primarily when Darkness was initially being explored by Guardians in the form of Stasis and the VANGUARD panicked and Guardians were being corrupted). We know lore book authors are potentially biased at times especially in favor of the Vanguard looking good. So, this practice was kept under wraps. Aunor and Marlow sometimes had to dispatch Ghosts. It is a super shitty job that the Vanguard wants to keep extremely hidden as it does not look good for them. We already see how Aunor struggles to kill Guardians in the first place; but imagine how terrible of a job it would be to actually have to dispatch Ghosts...Yeah that's what I put Marlow through (sorry girly), I'm evil. Or rather, I just rlly hate the Vanguard.

*For Marlow, she isn't outright killing Guardians like Aunor does. What she is tasked with, however is to send "VERY strong messages" to those Guardians who the Vanguard/Ikora deem to be not deserving of light anymore but maybe don't qualify for a full-on assassination. Which means Marlow is tasked to kill Ghosts, rendering the Guardian lightless. This is what they refer to as "Early Retirements". (It's actually a sick practice, as many Guardians wish for final death after being rendered lightless and losing their Ghosts).

These assignments make Marlow take a very critical look into corruption of the Vanguard and the dehumanizing treatment that Hidden Agents have to subject themselves to once they take the vow (basically strips away your own identity/individuality and replaces it with group mentality). She is conflicted the entire time she is asked to dispatch Ghosts and also with how the Vanguard is handling the House Salvation conflict developing in Europa. It makes her physically ill to kill a Ghost.

She does have a tried-and-true method for getting a Ghost to emerge, while keeping the Guardian subdued but not killing them while she snags the Ghost. :[

A few other things she did in the short span of time around the time Eramis became a popsicle and House Salvation deserters evacuating, but before Kridis is hunted by us:

She ends up rebelling and disobeying (there's quite a bit that goes into this, but it's way too detailed). By doing so, she is quickly made a target herself. She killed the Hidden Agent that was sent after her, one of her own comrades.

She's on Europa at the time and is essentially pushed into Eliksni territory to escape the Hidden. She meets Namrask who helps hide her from Phylaks who's searching for a Guardian that was reported to be in the area (the fight between Marlow and the other Hidden Agent drew House Salvation attention).

She repays Namrask by raiding some ether stores the Vanguard had claimed. Embracing her new outlaw status.

Between the time Eramis is a popsicle, and in the time House Salvation deserters are evacuating she is pushed into an interaction with Kridis where Marlow does the Ireliis bow and isn't killed but ends up essentially a captive of Kridis. She confiscated Marlow's Ghost but protects Marlow from the Hidden within Riis-Reborn. Now in some coerced alliance, Marlow worked for Kridis for a bit until the Young Wolf kills Kridis (Marlow's recaptured and in Ikora's custody).

I thought it would be interesting to have a Guardian be "used" as an asset for House Salvation, so exploring that through Marlow. But, poor Marlow...I really put her through a lot and she's really a good person. I tend to like really complex, tragic characters that are forced to do things that go against their own personal morals. I think it creates a pretty interesting internal dynamic as well as leads to some interesting choices from them.

[scummy-writes]

I am opening four slots for commissions! I am willing to write for both ikepri and ikevamp, but please view this post for a list of characters I am confident with and who I am not. (Even if they're in the 'will not write' catagory, please feel free to reach out and we can discuss it further.)

For examples of my work, here is my Ikevamp masterlist (content spanning from 2020-present), and my Ikepri masterlist (2022-present), separated by character.

Pricing:

$7 - 500 words

$14 - 1,000 words

$20 - 1,500 words

$25 - 2,000 words

Rules:

Must be okay with me posting the commission publicly so I can prevent theft of my work. (I can omit Oc names if that makes you more comfortable.)

If I go over word limits there is no extra charge. That’s an issue on my end, not yours, so please don’t worry if it’s a bit over what you paid for.

I have a right to reject commissions: If it’s something that makes me uncomfortable, even if its not on my general rules list, I may reject it.

I’m generally open with plots, but to be clear I will write Oc/suitor, or any non-incest ships between the characters. When it comes to Au’s, I do want to specify that medieval fantasy and au’s akin to that are not my strong suit.

I do tend to ask a lot of questions when it comes to discussing the commission. These will be things like personal headcanons you have with your suitor, and essentially letting you gush about them so I can tailor the fanfic more towards your views, along with any indepth details for what you are wanting.

I will be messaging you with progress to see if it is going in the direction you envisioned.

Payment will be needed up front through paypal. To secure a spot, I will need you to IM this blog with what you are wanting along with the word count you’re paying for. Please be specific when doing this. I'll also need the email you use for paypal so I can create an invoice.

This is First Come First Serve. Keep in mind that once I start your fic, it can take up to a few weeks for me to finish it, especially since I can’t work on writing at my workplace. If you are number four on the list, then you may have a bit of a wait!

Please feel free to reference any of my past writing if it helps you explain the type of tone/vibes you'd like in the fanfic.

I do not consent for my writing to be used in any A.I. programs, and by comming me you are agreeing that you will not be using my writing in said programs.

Disclaimer: There may be small errors or typos. As much as I check over my works, sometimes a typo can slip by.

FOR NSFW COMMISSIONS

By reserving any 18/+ commissions from this account you are agreeing that: You are 18 or older, not commissioning on behalf of a minor, and not purposely showing snippets of the n/s/f/w commission to any minors.

[sweetescapeartist]

MORE ABOUT AYA MATSUI

DISCLAIMER: This is not meant to attack Matsui nor any of the others who previously worked on the series (or those who currently work on the series). This is just to aid us in having an understanding of why Yamcha & Krillin are viewed in a negative light by the fandom. No hate towards them & we shouldn't harass any of them. We understand how things come about so that we can present corrections & prevent misinformation when appropriate by using discretion.

HER MISUNDERSTANDING OF VEGEBUL & DISDAIN FOR YAMCHA:

DBZ filler EP 124 & 125 were written by Aya Matsui. She is OBVIOUSLY a Vegeta fangirl who seems to not like Yamcha very much. In those episodes, Matsui writes for Bulma's parents talk about how amazingly strong Vegeta is and how good looking he is.

And without valid reason, Bulma was written to care WAY too much for the guy who threatened to kill her more than once, treated her like dirt, & was responsible for the death and torment of her friends.

And its revealed in the filler that Bulma wanted attention from her boyfriend AND a genocidal maniac who threatened her life multiple times. And the previous threat on her life was recent.

This filler honestly made Bulma look worse than she was in the manga. Bulma was horny & dumb in the manga and regretted her actions. DBZ filler made Bulma appear as if she developed Stockholm Syndrome for Vegeta along with her Hybristophilia (sexual interest & attraction to criminals; Bandit Yamcha, Zarbon in filler, Vegeta).

Matsui appears to have been one of the many who believed the lie Future Bulma told Future Trunks & then wrote for Bulma to fall for Vegeta in an unbelievable way before Toriyama revealed what REALLY happened. In reality, Bulma stupidly slept with Vegeta anyway despite him being evil & genocidal because she was horny and currently single after breaking up with Yamcha again. Then, Bulma couldn't stand Vegeta for years.

Aya Mastui & Toei had jumped the gun because they didn't know that Toriyama planned for Bulma to to regret sleeping with Vegeta. It WAS NOT some romantic story. There was no love between them when it began. They both hated each other after their one night stand & only came to care for each other over the span of many years due to Future Trunks.

It's a unique romance story that many VegeBul fans ignore for some reason in favor of a prince saving her from an abusive boyfriend when the prince was the actual abuser & so was she. Them forming a relationship due to their son from the future? No other DB couple has that kind of story.

Meanwhile, Yamcha gets ignored for the most part in DBZ EP 124 & 125 unless it was to make him look bad so that the currently evil Vegeta looked better. These two filler episodes were simply VEGETA WANKING. Just evidence of Matsui being a fan of Vegeta's design, but not understanding the character. And just as she did not understand the character well, most Vegeta fans don't understand him either & only like the husk of the character.

Nothing wrong with being a Vegeta fangirl or fanboy. Just pointing out a fact & how it skewed Matsui's depiction of reality in this & other instances. I just wonder why there aren't many fangirls/fanboys of End of Z Vegeta? That's my favorite Vegeta. Vegeta fans try to make evil Vegeta like EoZ Vegeta, so why not be a fan of the developed version of him instead of taking away development from the so-called "most developed character"? Seems unreasonable & illogical to me. Matsui seems to have became a fan of EoZ Vegeta with how she wrote GT Vegeta to behave.

But, back to her dislike for Yamcha...

Matsui wrote the filler scene of DBZ EP 70 where Bulma has a dartboard with Yamcha's face on it when Krillin & Gohan are searching for her.

That dartboard was not present in the manga. And why would Bulma have that after she cried over Yamcha's death and went to Namek to bring him back to life? Makes her look worse than when she didn't take accountability for the arguments she started with Yamcha as she briefly fantasized about Goku for a moment on Namek in the original manga.

I personally believe that back then, Matsui may have felt some sort of connection with Bulma in some way (not saying for a fact), but she didn't understand the character well (as many Bulma fans don't) & didn't realize that Bulma started the arguments instead of Yamcha. Then, Matsui gave Bulma a "Yamcha dartboard" in the episode she adapted.

HER DISDAIN FOR KRILLIN:

LASTLY... Aya Matsui also seemed to not like Krillin very much either as shown by DBZ EP 117 where Krillin is treated as a joke for most of the episode, Malon treats Krillin poorly, & she flirts with other guys right in front of him (even with Krillin's close friend Yamcha). Then, in DBZ EP 167, there is a scene that has Yamcha & Krillin training to fight Cell, and both are treated as clumsy jokes rather than highly skilled martial artists. But, Krillin is treated as more of a joke than Yamcha as Yamcha mocks then kicks him in the face.

So, Matsui seemed to have strongly disliked Yamcha, but disliked Krillin a bit more. Why do I say so? BECAUSE Matsui was the head writer of DBGT where Krillin and his family are inaccurately portrayed. Marron & others were written to behave like Bulma & Krillin is almost always insulted by his wife & daughter. And Yamcha is mostly absent for the entire series. She is also one of the ppl who worked under Takao Koyama; the headwriter for DBZ who strongly disliked Krillin. So, Koyama, Matsui, Kubota, & others of Koyama's "underlings" who worked on DBZ & GT wrote episodes that depicted both Krillin & Yamcha in negative ways.

So, thanks to Koyama, Matsui, & others, many fans do not understand Yamcha nor Krillin and have a false depiction of them which in many cases resulted in undue hatred of the characters.

Again, this is not to attack Matsui or anyone else. Just gathering information to share an understanding as to why filler scenes in DBZ have negatively impacted the perception of certain characters for all of these years. First we must know & understand, then we correct the perception in our own unique ways when the opportunity presents itself.

[dc418writes]

A Home for the Holidays✨

✨Pairing✨: fighter!Curtis Everettxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Since he could remember, the holidays were never merry or bright for Curtis. That is until this year

⚠️: 18+ NO MINORS!, mentions of past childhood/domestic abuse, bit of angst, cursing (only 2 words), ends in fluff tho because it’s the Holidays💕 lol

A/N🎙️: timeline wise this takes place years before the events of “Where’s the Love?” Hope everyone enjoys! I’m gonna try to put out more holiday themed pieces that I’ve had ideas for, but then again we’ll see since I don’t have much free time 😬

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual/collage made by me, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of media used as they were all found via Pinterest and Tumblr*

Curtis was pleasantly surprised entering his bedroom to find his side of the bed occupied by you beautifully resting in his white tank. The one you usually slept in when you stayed the night

Presumably, you must’ve let yourself in whenever you were done with your family’s holiday festivities and he was still working the shipyard

Quietly - to not wake you -, he slides off his coat then work boots before discarding them in his closet. The rest of his clothes are shed in the adjoining bathroom before stepping into the lukewarm shower to wash the day’s work away

As soon as he gets his blanket over your body, you’re sleepily turning to face him with squinted eyes and then a tired smile. Curtis adoringly chuckles sweeping your wild curls from your face with his warm fingertips

“Thought I could wait for you.”

“S’alright. Go back to sleep,” he replies pulling you closer to kiss your forehead. You answer by placing a couple pecks under his bearded jaw before your even breaths signal you’ve fallen back asleep

Curtis’ rest isn’t as quick to come though, which isn’t a surprise. Working at all hours, throughout his life, it was fairly difficult sticking to a scheduled bedtime

However, having you here in his arms, he didn’t mind the restlessness tonight. Curtis took it as his limited moment of peace savoring your sweet scent as his fingers slowly glided along the span of your back. He stayed this way - occasionally leaving loving pecks to the top of your head - until the digital clock flashed midnight officially bringing Christmas Day

And with it, all the memories and trauma Curtis couldn’t seem to get away from

-

The monotonous, high pitched beep of the fire detector has Curtis jumping out of bed before he can even register what’s happening

His head a bit fuzzy and swimming from the fast movements so suddenly as he stops just outside the bedroom watching you stand on a chair trying to fan the smoke away from the detector

“You okay?”

“Yea,” you sigh letting him help you down - with arms wrapped around your legs - before he easily stretches up to remove the device from the wall permanently ending its annoying sound. “I was trying to make you toast in the oven, but then I got caught up prepping for dinner and burned it. I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Eyes now fully focused, he notices the eggs and strips of bacon waiting on a plate. A carton of orange juice on the counter beside it along with the cup he usually used

On the opposite counter behind you, a small roast along with potatoes, carrots, and cans of stewed tomatoes

“What’s all this?,” he softly asks. Clearly you stopped by the grocery store as well since he definitely didn’t have all these ingredients when he left yesterday

“Breakfast,” you smile nervously twisting the hem of his tank on your body around your finger. “My uh family usually makes a big one on Christmas Day and I wanted to do that with you…if you’re hungry that is.”

He’s silent for a few seconds with strong arms crossed on his equally built chest, which makes you even more nervous that maybe your surprise isn’t being well received

“They know you’re here?”

The gruff question catches you off guard causing a confused tilt to your head. “They know I’m not with them…” you slowly answer. “Why?”

“‘Cause I don’t need them knocking down my damn door trying to find you,” he retorts as if your presence is now a bother.

So much for that perfect Christmas morning you envisioned

“Sorry to intrude then.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You sure?,” you ask, with a quivering bottom lip, before brushing past him towards the bedroom. Curtis manages to grab your arm, but you pull free with the jerk of your shoulder.

As his tone rises calling you back, the voice leaving his mouth is no longer his but instead his father’s. With that same timbre of aggression and roughness used on him, his mother, and his younger brother.

In that moment he’s reverted to one of his earliest holiday memories. Him watching his two-year-old brother, Carter, in their shared bedroom while their parents argued in the adjoining living room. Well moreso his father.

A slight slur to his words - thanks to his trusty flask - he claimed the decorations were ridiculous and “a waste of the money they already didn’t have”.

His mother just brushed him off with a roll of her blue eyes so similar to Curtis’ and unfazed by the addition to her husband’s daily complaints. The older man didn’t take too kindly to such disrespect though.

Loud smacks turned into yelling and fussing then cries as his mother pleaded for him to stop.

“You mind your husband!,” he yelled - always needing to have the final word. Turning to walk away, his strong hand yanks down the string lights hanging on the wall along with the brightly lit tree making the plastic ornaments bounce and clatter on the floor. Meanwhile his mother sat crumbled on the shagged carpet with hands covering her probably already swollen face.

When his dark eyes locked with then four-year-old Curtis, rightfully filled with fear as he protectively held onto his baby brother, his father dared chuckle. Lightly shaking his head before walking out the front door going God knows where.

From then on, Christmas was cold inside just as much as the weather was outside. And it only seemed to get colder with each passing year.

Duffle bag on your shoulder, you finally exited the bedroom quickly wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks as you steadily walk towards the front door. All the while acting as if he wasn’t there when stepping past him. You’re nearly out the door with hand gripping the metal knob when the low rumble of his voice breaks the silence surrounding both of you.

“I don’t want you to go Dex.”

You hate how that nickname passing from his lips - and only his - instantly makes you soft. Your shoulders less tense and grip loosening until your arm drops to your side while you continue to look forward

“What happened between last night and this morning?”

A heavy, frustrated sigh leaves his lungs as he leans against the bar in front of the kitchen sink searching for his words

“You know I’m no good at this.”

“Try,” you respond turning to meet his sincere eyes containing a hint of sadness

That was always your response whenever your relationship came to a bump. Admittedly, usually caused by Curtis and his bad habit of pushing you away.

At times he hated when you said it, wondering why you didn’t just leave like the few who tried to be with him before. Instead, you challenged his resistance and wouldn’t back down unless necessary.

And deep down he appreciated it. You weren’t giving up on him, or your relationship, seeing something more in him than he could see in himself.

“Your parents don’t want you anywhere near me-,”

“And like I’ve said I don’t care what they want for me. This is my life to live and I wanna do that with you Curtis.”

“How can you truly say that? I mean look at you,” he begins, gesturing at everything you’ve done so far. “You’re waking up early trying to cook Christmas breakfast and dinner for me like some movie. Probably even have a gift for me somewhere when I can’t do this holiday shit. I never have.”

“I’m not solely with you because of your holiday cheer Curtis,” you reply stepping closer. “And what do you mean you can’t? Because you’re not rich? That doesn’t matter.”

“No, because..,” he pauses not wanting to explain any further, but with your concerned, brown eyes gazing into his the uncomfortable itch beneath his skin from such vulnerability begins to slowly disappear. He knew you loved him and bravely took all his baggage as if it were your own trying to help him through it.

You were proving that now, just as you’ve tried since you first got together.

“You’ve met my dad so you’ve seen how he can be. That was only a portion though. The first Christmas I can remember, he trashed all the decorations and tree before leaving my mom crying and bruised on the floor and me holding my little brother.”

“Holidays only got worse each year and after all this time part of me wonders…”

You toss your bag towards the wall before stepping in front of him to comfortingly place your hands on each bearded cheek. Just a small gesture showing he had your full attention. “Wonders what?,” you whisper.

“Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be for me,” he shrugs. “That the twisted part of me sharing his DNA only has so long until he’s showing his face.”

His confession has you close to tears as you immediately stretch up to place your lips on his. Your tender kiss warming him from the inside out while his arms wrap around your back pressing your body against his.

“For you to think about that, and be concerned, that shows you’ll be nothing like him Curtis. You think if I saw him in you I’d still be here?”

This makes a huff of a small chuckle leave his lips as he shakes his head and forehead falls to touch yours. Yes you were kind and the sweetest woman he’d ever met, but after watching you stand up to his father - not afraid in the slightest - he knew you’d go to hell and back for those you cared for.

It was also then he could feel himself fall even more for you.

“And no, that’s not how it’s ever supposed to be,” you add pecking his lips again. “I’m sorry he made you believe that.”

“Can’t pick our families can we?,” he simply replies in that nonchalant attitude he typically wore.

“Not our biological ones. But we have chosen families too.” This time it’s him capturing your lips with his and leaving little nips that make you giggle.

“I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t want you here. That’s not true.”

“I appreciate it, but I should’ve texted first. Might’ve saved us from all this,” you nervously laugh.

“Dex you never have to ask to come here, alright? I want this to be your place like it is mine.”

Looking up at the man in front of you, your eyes excitedly gleam and face brightens - reminiscent of a child opening a present - hearing those words. It tickles Curtis watching you immediately try to calm yourself and play it cool replying with a relaxed “okay” as you switch your focus to the pendant hanging just below the dip at the base of his neck that sat perfectly in your line of vision.

“Y-You mean it?,” you quietly ask carefully tracing the intricate lines with your fingernail. You sounded so delicate and fragile, making him squeeze you comfortably tighter while he kissed the top of your head.

“Of course. You’re all the family I have.”

Being there in his arms, you can’t help but contently sigh snuggling your face deeper in his chest. Your heart warm and full standing with the man you loved so dearly.

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

There Are Some Cons to Being an Archeologist. . .

(Disclaimer: two of the characters in this story belong to me. You can find more information about Penn and LeviathanPat here. Illinois belongs to the Markiplier Cinematic Universe.)

The amazing artist @insane4fandoms has drawn my fanegos multiple times now. I wrote this to show my gratitude. (GO FOLLOW THEM AND REBLOG THEIR STUFF OR ELSE YOU FORFEIT YOUR KNEECAPS.)

(Trigger Warnings: descriptions of dark and slightly claustrophobic areas, descriptions of being chased/pursued/stalked, blood, panic/fear, body horror, teeth, eyes, strong language, eating/drinking. Please let me know if I missed anything.) 

(If you’d like to use distorted fonts like the one you’ll be seeing in this story, then I recommend going here).

Tap-tap-tap

The sun was still sinking, still casting beautiful streaks of pink, purple, and orange across the clouds, but it wouldn’t be long. 

The rock spire’s shadow grew wider and longer with each passing minute.

Outside, the entrance to the cavern yawned open just ten or so feet away. 

Penn couldn’t believe he’d thought it was dark earlier. 

The shade further inside was bright compared to the monster. 

The monster almost didn’t even briefly blend in with that darkness as he paced by the cave’s mouth for the hundredth time now.

Whatever excuse the monster had for skin wasn’t just pitch-black. Oh sure, it glistened like tar one second, then sprouted veins that throbbed like a diseased organ would against blood-clots the next, and then appeared raw like leathery scales or a rough carapace the next, and, and, and. . .

But that was just it. 

The grotesque way it kept shifting and stretching—the constant changes were only ripples against the pitch blackness it was made of. 

It wasn’t like mere shadows or clouds of smoke or puddles of ink. 

The monster was a moving, breathing, sentient void.

He was nothing.

He was a nothing that was somehow bigger than anything because it kept all sorts of horrible things trapped inside it. 

Tap-tap-tap

Throughout his career, Pennsylvania James had come across several opportunities to invoke a phrase that managed to be so simple and so acidic at the same time: “I told you so.”

To his credit, he’d only taken said opportunities once or twice. Most of them had come up via honest mistakes not worth starting a fight over. 

In this scenario, however, that infamous quip would absolutely be justified. 

The red jeep he was currently sitting in belonged to none other than Illinois Jenkins. It’d also belonged to several other parties before aforementioned treasure-hunter had purchased it. 

In a way, that kind of made sense. If you made your living looking for relics, then why not drive something that could probably classify as a relic itself? 

Penn understood that the market for cars was a complete and total trash-fire, as well as how the concept of sentimental value worked in mysterious ways. Really, he did!

But no amount of understanding would make this thing work when he and Illinois really needed it to work.  

Tap-tap-tap

Like a few minutes ago, for instance, when the engine had only offered a weird sputtering noise after Illinois had twisted his key around in the ignition a few dozen times in the span of half a microsecond.

. . .At least, the more logical parts of Penn’s brain were sure that only a few minutes had passed. The less logical parts insisted that it’d been a good couple hours since he and Illinois had bolted out of the cave’s entrance and into the jeep for shelter. 

Oh, yes. There was no way in neither heaven nor hell that Penn could be blamed for telling Illinois that he’d told him so about this damn jeep. 

But he couldn’t do that right now.

Tap-tap-tap

Right now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak again for the next day or two. 

Right now, the only sounds in the air were heavy, raspy panting courtesy of himself and his friend.

He felt his heart bashing against his sternum over and over and over; each beat was legitimately painful. His pulse thundered in his ears as the blood rushed throughout his head. Though, if he listened closely enough, he was sure he could hear Illinois’ own heart on the brink of explosion in his chest. 

Tap-tap-tap

. . .As well as that godforesaken tapping. 

The sound was so light, so quick, so obviously produced by the jeep’s windows. 

And yet Penn’s instincts swore up and down that his skull was being struck for that little rhythm.

It seemed Illinois was under the same illusion, if the way he ground his jaw was anything to go by.

The monster sidled up to the jeep again, placing one hand (or paw, or clutch of talons, or tentacle, or what-the-hell-ever) on the hood while another appendage stretched to rest somewhere on the roof. 

More arms spilled out from his heaving sides, being planted against the ground as he steadied himself and leaned forward, craning his neck toward the windshield. 

His eyes. . .God, somehow they were the very worst part of him. They glowed with a sickly light; not at all like the sun or the moon or even the stars. No, they looked like someone had taken a flickering ember from the bottom of a firepit, and then wrapped strips of pale, decaying flesh around it. 

Penn tried to lean even further back against the leather seat. His spine could feel the monster’s malevolent gaze, and it wanted to crawl out of his skin and find a better hiding place. But it couldn’t, due to both Penn’s attempts to keep it where it belonged as well as the fact that no living thing could ever hide from those eyes no matter what it did.  

Penn watched as a dark, slick, shaking claw reached around the side of the windshield, being pushed toward the passenger window.

Tap-tap-tap

___

Nomad’s Nook. 

That was what the glowing, candy-red sign on this building’s roof spelled out to greet passersby. It sort of made the hotel a centerpiece, as this town was made specifically for drifters and the like, full of tidy little convenience stores and gas stations. 

Desert areas had their charms, but they hardly ever felt like the right place to make a home. Unless, of course, you were a fennec fox, or a gila monster, or a rattlesnake. But even then, you could only survive in an environment like this if you had a shady place to rest. 

Such as a tunnel boring through the base of one of those towering rock spires that had formed an odd million years ago. 

A tunnel that just might lead to an underground cave. . .or maybe two. . .or three. . .

Then again, places like that could also be on your radar if you just so happened to be named after one of the fifty States. 

“So, care to wager?”

“Hmm?” Penn raised an eyebrow, still working on a bite of the takeout ravioli his companion had slaved over a hot cellphone for. By the time they’d parked the jeep outside and trudged into the lobby downstairs, it’d been about two hours since sunset; any meal was long overdue. “On what?”

Illinois, who sat on another bed across the room from the one Penn had claimed, looked up from his own supper (grilled chicken margherita) with a smug grin, dark brown eyes glinting under the rim of his Akubra hat.

“Chuck’s Hole,” he clarified. “Up until now, we’ve only been guesstimating. We still can’t be sure just how far its depths really go. It could have all kinds of things in store for us. . .” 

Penn doubled over as the need to take a deep breath collided with the mouthful of food he’d just barely swallowed. 

“Thanks—a lot,” he hacked, trying to give Illinois a death-glare. Due to the giggles that leaked out, though, this effort wasn’t very successful. 

Illinois tried to shrug it off, all cool and casual, only to wrench his eyes shut as he too fell victim to a violent bout of snickers.

This wasn’t the cavern’s official title. . .not yet, at least, but it had a good chance of sticking. A title like that was too stupid and too funny to forget any time soon. 

The idea stemmed from another one of Penn and Illinois’ projects. The former had discovered a documentary relating to the very specimens he’d been after, and the latter had agreed to watch it with him. 

Well, at some point, the narrator (who absolutely deserved a raise, what with the intensity and drama of his voice) had been describing the body structure of some carnivorous theropod. Particularly its skull and jaws.

The instant subtitles, in their notorious janky nature, had interpreted the quote, “—designed for ripping its prey apart and swallowing chunks whole—” as “—designed for ripping its pray a part and swallowing Chuck’s hole.”

Chuck’s hole.

Chuck’s.

Hole.

. . .Damn.

It was a wonder Penn hadn’t caved in the spacebar on his laptop’s keyboard when he’d paused the video, rendering those words temporarily frozen in brackets at the bottom-left corner of the screen. His free hand had curled into a fist, which he repeatedly slammed against the desk like it owed him money, cackling like a deranged gremlin all the while. 

Illinois had slumped in his chair, raising his hands to knead at his forehead, becoming so wracked with belly-laughs that he ended up choking on a combination of air and his own spit. And after the two of them had calmed down enough to speak coherently again, he’d vowed to one day name a new subterranean area he found in honor of this beautiful moment of idiocy. 

Despite how he insisted on “working best alone,” it wasn’t uncommon for Illinois to call up Penn and invite him to join the odd adventure. Likewise, though he was typically a bit more hesitant, it wasn’t uncommon for Penn to take those invitations. (The team he usually worked with needed breaks, after all.) 

This current project was more of a coincidence. No-one had explored it yet, and rumors about it had reached both of them around the same time. 

Penn leaned back against the too-firm pillows, subconsciously catching his fair skin, chocolate-colored hair and matching eyes in the blank screen of the television at the front of the room. “There were only so many burrowing dinosaurs back then. And caves usually only have trace fossils in their walls, but that depends on the environment. In a place like this. . .” 

He paused, drumming his fingers on the thin blanket whose corners had been tucked under the mattress tighter than a pageant star’s girdle. “. . .There’s a good chance of finding nocturnal remains. Y’know, bats and the like.”

“Sure, but that can’t just be it,” Illinois replied. “C’mon, think a little bigger!” 

Penn tilted his head to the side, reaching over to pluck his deep red neckerchief from the nightstand. He began weaving it about his fingers as he thought. “I guess I can’t rule out the possibility of hyenas, wolves, or bears. Maybe even the odd hominin or two, but I’d have to be really lucky for that.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got me,” Illinois declared, smirking as he took off his hat to smooth back the raven hair that almost tickled his shoulders.  

Penn rolled his eyes, half fond and half exasperated. “Right, right. The guy who gets chased by boulders every time he steps outside is just the pinnacle of luck.”

Illinois scoffed. “Oh, please. The boulders are small potatoes compared to animal-rooted curses. Have you ever seen a beaver with green smoke pouring out of its eyes? Awful stuff, man. Awful. Stuff.”

The adventurer paused, shuddering as a distant, unreadable look manifested in his eyes. “Last time I bumped into one, I spent a week with the feeling of splinters all over my tongue. Don’t even get me started on how orange my teeth turned!” 

“. . .I’m not sure why you’d put orange teeth in a worse spot on the tier list than invisible splinters in your mouth,” Penn deadpanned. 

“You weren’t there to see it! My dentist wouldn’t stop trying to convince me that I’d either been eating Play Doh or doing all sorts of drugs!” Illinois argued, shaking his head, eyebrows arched so severely they could’ve left dents in the ceiling. “And that was just what I got from a scratch. The stupid overgrown-water-hamster hadn’t even bitten me.” 

With all the trivia he gathered on instinct, Penn knew that somewhere out in the world, there existed an obituary that could easily be summarized as Death By Beaver. And, assuming the guilty rodent in question was a normal, non-cursed one, an event like that being reality was already weird enough. 

“It could’ve been worse,” Penn mused. “Imagine getting attacked by a cursed koala. If that’s not a bad omen from the universe, then I don’t know what is.” 

Illinois grimaced, no doubt recalling the time he’d unwillingly learned that koalas A. could somehow throw temper-tantrums that rivaled those of crocodiles, and B. carried strands of chlamydia around like those stupid designer purses. “Fair point, though I doubt any curse would give a koala more braincells to work with.” 

Penn snorted. “Exactly.”

On one hand, Penn could be a bit of a skeptic. Not always, since you couldn’t put strange, vast skeletons together without being imaginative. But as a young boy, he’d lost count of all the times he’d been laughed at for collecting rocks simply because they were shinier or more colorful than average.

On the other hand, one of his and Illinois’ earlier co-op trips had seen them stopping by a Walmart for supplies and then getting chased out ten minutes later by a rogue boulder that had apparently manifested somewhere in the candy aisle because why the hell not? 

Certain parts of his mind hadn’t known peace since then, but other parts were now more open than they were before. So, Penn supposed that could count as a balance. 

Illinois paused, eyes to widening and twinkling. “Oh! And speaking of omens, hang on a second—”

He placed his to-go box to the side before reaching over to the bedpost. There hung a satchel, the same one he claimed to have inherited from his mother and always took on his escapades. He rummaged through it, eliciting a chorus of sounds that suggested it was packed with many, many more things than it should’ve been capable of holding. 

After an awkwardly long moment, the silence was broken by a short cry of victory. Illinois got to his feet, crossing the room and extending his arm to show off the package that was now taking up space in one hand.  “I got something for you. Fresh from the other side of the world.” 

Penn felt his lips quirk as he carefully took said package. It was a bundle of brown paper, complete with a long string of twine that had been tied into a bow at the top. Whatever was inside could only be about as long as his hand, but it had a definite heft to it. 

Penn placed it on his lap as he fished through his pockets, bringing out a small folding knife to cut the cords. The paper yielded quite easily, shuffling and crackling and spreading like the petals of a dried-out flower as he unfolded it. 

There, in the middle of those layers, sat the gift. 

It was cold against his palms. It felt a little rough too, despite the paint (which was the grayish-purplish color of a bruise) that covered it. Hardened clay, Penn guessed. 

It resembled an animalistic head, though Penn wasn’t sure what animal the artist had taken inspiration from. An oblong shape like the snout of a dog, or maybe a lizard; if he was honest, it seemed like someone had tried to sculpt a velociraptor’s skull strictly from memory. Whatever the case, its snout split open into a leering maw full of sharp, crooked teeth. And just above those teeth. . .eyes. 

Eight eyes, to be specific, organized in a line of four on either side of the face. They’d each been painted an unpleasant shade of yellow, each adorned by a wide, black pupil. Penn squinted, realizing that those pupils were holes. Just hollow pits boring further inside the head. 

There were two more holes in the bottom half, right under the thing’s lower jaw. A small spire jutted out from the base, adorned by a tiny rectangular chasm. Like the mouthpiece you could expect to find on any wind-instrument.

“. . .An ocarina?” Penn finally asked, glancing back at Illinois. 

Illinois tutted, shaking his head. "Penn, buddy, c'mon. After all the crazy shit you've seen me handle, you really think I'd give you just any old ocarina?"

“I mean, that's sort of what this looks like. Big emphasis on the ‘sort of,’ though, I'll give you that," Penn quipped, a hesitant laugh following his words. It felt like the thing’s eyes were watching him. They couldn’t be, though. They were hollow, they were made of clay. This thing was not alive. 

Penn didn’t like how he had to remind himself of that. 

“It’s a Chimera Pipe,” Illinois continued with a ghostly edge to his voice. “Whenever you play it, the music is supposed to ward off evil spirits. What do you think?”

“Interesting. Pretty damn interesting.” Despite the cold, clammy feeling creeping around his stomach, Penn couldn’t help but smile. “Y’know, I was gonna say I’ve never seen anything like this, but it reminds of that little doll you got a few years ago.”

“‘Little doll,’” Illinois echoed, incredulous. “I think you mean my Warden.” 

“Right, sorry.” Penn raised a teasing eyebrow in return, then glanced back down at the Chimera Pipe. “Really, though, doesn’t this thing give off the same vibe as that?”

“It’d better give off the same vibe; it was made by the same person.” Illinois reached into one of his breast pockets to produce the object in question. “I honestly can’t believe I managed to bump into them again. I mean, of course they’d recognize me, of all people—”

Illinois’ shoulders popped up in a cocky little shrug as his free hand hovered over his heart. Penn clicked his tongue at that. 

As Illinois held the Warden up, allowing it to catch the light, a lump manifested in Penn’s throat. His companion had a point: doll wasn’t the most accurate term for it. It had been carved from wood, yes, but that was where the similarities ended. 

Small, oily black feathers and strands of hair (actual human hair, mind you) had been wrapped around its torso in a tight bundle. Six jagged, spidery twig-arms jutted out from said bundle, bent in ways that suggested the totem was both trying to free itself and claw at anything that got near it.

Its head almost resembled the skull of a tiny monkey. . .almost. About ten eyes had been painted all over it. Or, Penn assumed eyes had been painted there. It was hard to tell, what with the plethora of steel nails that had been driven into it from every which way. A decent chunk had been carved from it, leaving the entire lower half to serve as a gaping, disfigured mouth filled with needle-teeth.

Thick strings had been twisted around its torso, coming to a knot around its neck, which in turn spilled out into a wide loop. Apparently the maker had explained that its protective powers would be most efficient when it was worn as a necklace, but it would still work nicely when hung from a bedpost, or a rack on the wall. . .or a doorknob. 

(Illinois went for the last option, since he couldn’t resist using that to make jokes about not needing to put a tie or sock on the knob anymore.)

Penn rested his fingertips over the pipe's eye-holes and his thumbs over the jaw-holes. He pushed the mouthpiece toward his face, only to flich back, wrinkling his nose. “Oh—oh, geez.”

“What the matter?” Illinois asked, tilting his head and taking a few steps closer. 

“Nothing, it just. . .smells funny. Strong,” Penn answered. He’d already expected a distinct, earthy scent from the clay. And while it was there, it was overpowered by something else. Something that had a bite to it, like vinegar or cigarettes.

Illinois scratched at the hair growing along his jaw. “That must be the paint. I was told all sorts of spices and herbs had to be mixed into it for it to work. Kind of like the stuff people use to cure animal hides, y’know?” 

Penn hummed, offering a shrug. He could see the logic of that. 

Illinois then gestured to the pipe, silently prompting him to resume. 

Penn nodded, raising the pipe back up until the mouthpiece was less than an inch from his lips. Then, he took a deep breath, held it in his chest for a second, and blew it out.

The ensuing noise was. . .unique. 

It was a mixture of guttural and keening, shifting through a good few notes as Penn tapped his fingers against the eye-holes, trying to find a rhythm. It certainly didn’t sound like any music he’d heard before, but it wasn’t a person’s voice or an animal’s cry. So, music was the only thing it could really be called.

After a moment, he decided to stop playing and pulled the pipe away from his face. Illinois gave a brief, soft applause. 

“I can’t see any evil spirits in here. Can you?” Illinois asked, making a show of glancing around the hotel room. 

Penn shook his head, turning the pipe over in his hands. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“Great! It must be working, then. . .well, unless the Warden is just doing all the heavy-lifting.” Illinois grinned, spinning the creepy little doll-thing between his fingers.

“WOW.” Penn raised an eyebrow, grinning right back as he placed a hand on his hip. “Are you putting my playing skills to shame?”

Illinois squinted and pursed his lips, holding one hand flat in the air and turning it to and fro in that classic Maybe-Kinda-Sorta gesture.

Penn scoffed as he set the Chimera Pipe on the nightstand next to his own hat (another, older gift from Illinois), still tracing its eye-holes with his fingers. “. . .Thanks for thinking of me, Illi. This’ll really stand out in my collection.”

Illinois nodded as he strode back to his own bed and flopped onto the mattress. “No problem, Penn.”

___

Spelunking definitely wasn’t a hobby for everyone.

There was a reason storytellers often used “Rocks fall, everyone dies” as a catchall conclusion in a pinch. Even in the safer scenarios, caves were still cold, dark, enclosed. 

When stalagmites and stalactites alike (try saying that five times fast) protruded from the floors and ceilings, it wouldn’t take a paranoid imagination to see how those things resembled rows of irregular, snarling fangs.

That, in turn, led to the cave looking like the maw of a beast, which would obviously make the tunnels comparable to said beast’s throat. All in all, the correlation between caverns and monsters wasn’t that much of a joke.

But archeology buffs weren’t everyone. 

Penn and Illinois trekked side-by-side, led only by the glow of flashlights, their footsteps reverberating as they descended further and further into the behemoth’s belly. The sunlight trickling in through the craggy entrance of Chuck’s Hole had faded away with the distance.

Most cave systems consisted of one long, uneven tunnel that simply wound deeper and deeper into the earth until inevitably hitting a dead end. (A literal and figurative rock bottom, if you would.) Sometimes there could be thinner passages as well, branching off the main one and offering a much shorter path to a much smaller chamber.

It reminded Penn of the ant farm he’d cared for back when his undertakings had been limited to the neighborhood playground.

Chuck’s Hole was no different.  

Penn paused, lowering his flashlight as he leaned against the wall.

A hollow phantom pain crawled up and down his left leg. As though the ache was leaking through the huge, jagged bitemark that marred the skin of his thigh. It’d healed and scarred over quite a while ago—and the limp Penn now walked with wasn’t too noticeable—but that didn’t stop it from stinging like hell at times. 

It took a few seconds before Illinois glanced over his shoulder and stopped as well. He opened his mouth, only to immediately shut it with a little snap. He chewed his lip, making a clear effort to not stare at Penn’s leg as though he could see the scar through his pants. The guilt that trickled into his dark eyes, however, he hadn’t moved fast enough to hide.

Penn shook his head and rolled his shoulders. “I’m fine, I’m fine. We can keep going.” He took a bottle from one of the compartments in his canvas rucksack, lifting it up and taking a few gulps. The icy water felt good. “You said you had a feeling there’d be more for us to see, right?” 

Illinois nodded, smiling once more. “Right.” 

With that, the duo continued on, soon discovering a fork in the main tunnel just a few feet ahead. That was where Illinois suddenly halted yet again, leaning around the curve of the craggy wall to peek at the secondary pathway. He let out a low whistle, then disappeared around the corner. 

The hidden scar burned as Penn quickened his pace, but that was easily pushed aside once he entered this new chamber. 

“Say ‘Cheese!’” Illinois called before a bright flash illuminated everything within five feet of him. Penn flinched, squawking as one hand flew up just a millisecond too late to shield his face. 

Illinois guffawed. “Ah, that’ll be a good one for the corkboards!” 

After a second or two of scrubbing at his eyes, Penn shook his head and sighed, offering a disappointed glare that could make dads all over the world green with envy. “I should’ve known you were gonna pull something like that.”

“Yes, you should’ve,” Illinois agreed, smirking as he turned away to take some more pictures, this time of the things they were actually down here to study.

Though he tried hard not to, Penn ended up snickering to himself. “Did you at least get my good side?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Illinois answered with a shrug as he slipped his camera back into his satchel. 

The lower-half of the chamber could be compared to an ammonite shell: it twisted in on itself and offered three ledges, each one trailing off into the next and going slightly deeper.

As Penn approached his companion, he noticed how the sides of each ledge were different from the main tunnel. They resembled the work of a tattoo artist who was, to the great misfortune of his paying canvas, whacked out on three different cocktails that had been served with more than just salt on the rims of the glasses.

At first his heart jumped, assuming he and Illinois had stumbled upon a few dozen crinoids. That spark died a quick death as he looked closer, though his interest was still piqued. Every inch of the rock in here was scored, covered in twisting lines and shapes that couldn’t be naturally-formed layers or cracks. They’d been carved with crude instruments, and quite hastily at that. 

“What do you make of these?” Penn asked, squinting and having to keep turning his head. All of the carvings seemed to work together to create a larger picture, but it was so hard to fit them all in his eyes at once. 

Illinois pursed his lips, a mixture of curiosity and adrenaline flickering on his face. “They’re not like a lot of the hieroglyphics I’ve seen. I think can make out a few similarities, but not enough to actually translate anything. I’ll have to check my journals for a comparison later.”

He’d already strolled to the third ledge, which trailed off around a pit in the bottom. “I was just about to ask if you had any ideas about this.”

As Penn followed and looked down, he felt his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. 

It looked like a circle had been hollowed out of the rock, about as wide as both his and Illinois’ wingspans lined up together, and then filled with. . .something. 

Whatever it was, it must have been viscous before it was left to harden God-knows-how-many-years-ago. A few hundred filaments and frozen bubbles gleamed from under the surface against the bright artificial glow of his flashlight.

There was no way to truly tell, but the hole must have been pretty damn deep, as the substance was flat as a window.

Illinois knelt down and reached over to carefully tap at the edge of the petrified mass, eliciting a dull tik-tik. He then dragged his nail across it, tilting his head as he saw how no scratch mark was left behind. “Amber, maybe?”

Penn shook his head. “I think agate would be a closer option. Like sardonyx or Mexican Fire.” He paced around the pit, keeping his torch’s beam trained on it. “I’ve seen plenty of amber samples come in different colors, but none of them had any patterns like this.” 

Sure enough, an assortment of long, winding shapes could be seen further within the substance. They were a dark shade of gray, reminding Penn of tree branches, or roots. . .or veins. 

Except they were all bent and contorted, tangling rather than smoothly flowing together. As though the bottom of the pit had been some kind of burial mound, and a bunch of pale, malnourished limbs with WAY too many joints for comfort had been writhing through the soil just as this stuff was poured in. 

Illinois hummed as he stood back up and wandered closer, now following Penn’s gaze. “Sort of reminds me of horn coral. Y’know, like charlevoix?” 

Penn offered a shrug. “I guess so. Or something along the lines of opalized septarian? I mean, that’s the closest thing I can think of in terms of the pattern, but the colors seem completely off.” 

It never failed to fascinate him just how pretty rocks could be, depending on how and where they formed. 

The mass in the pit was not an example. Not by a long-shot. 

As he kept examining, Penn saw shades of white and red and orangish-brown. While he’d seen those types of colors mix very well together in other things, the mixture here just looked. . .wrong. 

In fact, the longer he stared at it, the more its colors appeared almost fleshy. 

And, following that comparison, the gray of those vein-like bands were like fungal threads growing on a carcass. 

Penn grimaced at the thought. He then slid his rucksack down one arm and onto the craggy floor. He got to his knees and fished around inside it, now holding his flashlight between his teeth as he produced a hammer and chisel. They shone in the dim light, having been cleaned and sharpened for what was probably the thousandth time not too long ago. 

He leaned over the petrified mass, pressing the chisel’s flat edge flush against it and lining up the hammer’s face. 

He started with a few cautious taps. The substance didn’t feel like concrete, of course, but it still seemed just as firm. 

Penn tightened his grip, then wound back and gave a much stronger strike. The chisel’s blade dug in a couple inches deeper.

Penn kept at it, readjusting his tools every few seconds as he carved a piece, feeling an odd type of comfort as the percussion reverberated through the bones of his fingers and wrists. 

A smile flickered on his face as a palm-fitting chunk finally broke off from the rest of the mass. As he laid his instruments off to the side and took aforementioned chunk into his hands, however, that smile died a slow death. 

The substance was dry. You could tell just by looking that it was very, very dry. 

True, the inside of this cavern was much cooler than the outside, but it was still smack-dab in the middle of a desert. True, Penn and Illinois were underground right now, but they still had yet to find any water deposits in here. 

And yet it. . .it felt moist and sticky against his skin.

It slipped out of Penn’s grasp, giving a very anticlimactic thunk as it fell to the ground. There was no residue, no filmy strings, no evidence of any sort of liquid on his fingers. 

Confused, Penn reached down and picked it back up. That same, sickly-wet feeling came with it, once again not leaving a single hint that the sample was anything other than dry as a bone. 

Although, if he really thought about it, that term only applied to old bones. 

A freshly-removed bone, on the other hand, would be quite slick with blood. . .

As he side-eyed the rest of the mass, a sharp, ugly sensation manifested inside him. Like he’d swallowed a spool of jagged, oily wire that was now unraveling in his stomach. He felt his free hand curl into a fist at his side. He didn’t want to look at the mass anymore, but he just couldn’t seem to turn his head away. 

The colors. . .those awful, fleshy-looking colors. . .were they vibrating?

No. 

No, no, nononono, they couldn’t be. 

They couldn’t be, and they weren’t. 

Penn made sure of that via grinding his jaw and blinking furiously. 

H i t  i t  a g a i n , whispered something he couldn’t hear.

It almost felt like one of his thoughts. But it wasn't. Whatever it was, it had NEVER been in his head before and therefore had no right to be in there now. 

That sensation was now in his skull, fluttering along his temples like the beginning flares of a migraine. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Goosebumps sprouted along his arms. Something in his brain screamed at him to hold his breath, and he listened to it without even thinking. 

Still looking at the mass, still clutching the sample he’d taken. . .still feeling what his instincts now recognized as the impatient stare of an apex predator. 

From out of nowhere, weight came down on his shoulder. At the same time, his hat was titled upward to make way for something rough and uneven that was suddenly being pressed against his forehead. 

Penn startled, a small scream tearing its way up his throat only to die halfway through his mouth as Illinois appeared before him.

“Whoa, hey! Take it easy!” Illinois almost recoiled in turn, but held steady. 

“What are you doing?!” Penn squawked, trying to edge away. 

“I’m trying to help you!” Illinois barked. One hand remained on Penn’s shoulder while the other refused to leave any room for Jesus between Penn’s brow and a small, blurry object. 

In a flash, Penn was back on his feet, reeling away until his shoulder collided with one of the walls. Illinois approached, hovering before his companion, holding the Warden in empty air.

The two of them engaged in a very uncomfortable staring contest for about ten seconds. Even with all its little nail-stab-wound-eyes, the Warden was really the only winner.  

“You’re not okay,” Illinois announced. His eyes made it clear that he knew it would’ve been pointless to ask otherwise. “You felt strange while taking that sample, didn’t you? Your head was hurting, right?”

Penn offered a shaky nod before trying to ask, “How did—why were you—?” 

Illinois let out a deep breath, nodding back. “This thing was made to be a guard dog. But that doesn’t mean it can’t help with the more, ah, internalized bad juju.” He raised the Warden for emphasis. “I kinda felt it, too. Sudden pain isn’t too uncommon in shrines like this.” 

“Yeah, well, your experiences aren’t universal,” Penn snarked, cringing at how dry his mouth suddenly felt. The naturally-formed tombs of ancient animals were one thing, but actual shrines were another. 

Illinois glanced down, fidgeting with the Warden’s cord before lifting it over his hat, letting it drape along his neck, the creepy totem now resting over his heart. 

As Penn watched, he felt himself reach into one of the lower pockets of his hiking vest. His fingers brushed against dry paint, feeling the Chimera Pipe's clay teeth and hollow eye-holes. He’d been worried about the possibility of it getting stolen while he and Illinois were away from the hotel room. 

That was the main reason he’d brought it along.

Had anything else compelled him to. . ?

Illinois rolled his shoulders, briskly shaking his head. “Alright, c’mon. We need to steer clear of this particular chamber. For a little while, at least.” He turned and started walking back up the ledges, beckoning for Penn to follow. 

Though Penn didn’t reply, he was quick to gather up his things, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder and marching along. He didn't dare look back at the sample he'd just carved, very pointedly leaving it behind.

Pieces of that oily feeling were still in his head, much more muffled than before. That wasn’t much of an improvement, since they also felt angrier, more desperate than before. Penn shivered badly, his eyes watering without warning, which led to him tripping over his own feet. 

Illinois caught him before he could taste the craggy floor. The adventurer’s features contorted with worry as he helped the paleontologist regain his balance. Penn guessed that his eyes were significantly more bloodshot than they had been a few minutes ago, judging by how Illinois sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as he peered at them. 

“. . .Or maybe should we just head to the jeep,” Illinois coughed, keeping a hand on the small of Penn’s back as the two of them drew closer to the chamber’s entrance. “Get some sunshine, take a longer break, weigh our options before we come baaAAAAAAUUUGH!” 

How had neither of them noticed the ground beginning to tremble?

Penn barely had time to register the scream before Illinois barreled to the side, half-shoving-half-dragging him along. He let out a shocked shriek of his own, which wasted no time bouncing off the chamber walls as the duo landed in a heap in the corner of the first ledge. 

What felt like a Category 4 earthquake rammed into the chamber’s opening, accentuated by a thunderous cacophony of grinding gravel. The stone walls shook, causing centuries-old dust to rain from the ceiling.

Both Penn and Illinois cried out again, ducking and covering, grabbing onto one another for dear life. 

For a brief, horrible moment, the world was nothing but noise. 

Nothing but BOOMING and CRASHING. . .

Until the very last second, when the unmistakable chorus of splintering, then cracking, and then full-on shattering drowned out anything else. It almost sounded like glass, but it just didn’t quite make the mark. Whatever was breaking was obviously much thicker than glass, much more ancient than glass. . .

Penn knew what that was. He knew without having to see, without even having to know.

And then. . .well, it would be wrong to say that a heavy silence settled over everything. The sound of hitching, ragged gasps for air almost seemed deafening. 

“. . .I-is anything broken? Or bleeding?” Penn finally blurted, opening one eye a few seconds before the other. His companion looked like he’d been involved in either a classic baking fiasco or a freak accident in a cocaine lab. Even with a significant lack of mirrors down here, Penn could tell he was in the same boat. “There’s only a few scrapes on my arms.”

Illinois opened his mouth to reply, only to launch himself into a coughing fit as the tiny particles were sucked in. He shook his head and offered a thumbs-up. “Same here.”

His nerves were obviously still on fire, but the day he wasn’t a do-er was the the day he wasn’t Illinois. He gritted his teeth, brushing the dust off his face before craning his neck to survey whatever the hell had just happened.

The answer was. . .interesting, as an odd mix of triumph and aggravation swept over the adventurer’s features. He was back on his feet in a flash, readjusting his hat as he rushed away from the impromptu fallout shelter. “YyyyyyOU SON OF A BITCH! I THOUGHT WE’D SETTLED THIS THE LAST TIME!” 

Give him his due, Illinois seemed to sense the way Penn winced, as he paused his tirade to glance over his shoulder and wave a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not talking about you.” 

That statement seemed to kickstart something, as Penn was suddenly up and following on shakey legs before he even felt himself moving. “What is it?! What is it?!”

Illinois scoffed, pointing an accusatory finger at the bottom of the chamber, at the petrified mass. . .or, what was left of it.

At least a couple hundred shards had been broken off and sent flying onto the higher ledges, courtesy of a large boulder that had crashed into the pit. Despite not struggling the way an animal would, it was clearly stuck, lodged in halfway.

Penn heaved a long-suffering sigh. He wasn’t sure if this topped the Walmart Disaster or not; even if the boulder really did have a mind of its own, at least it was in a place it actually had a modicum of business being in right now. 

“How many times do I have tO TEACH YOU THIS LESSON?” Illinois demanded, stooping down to snatch up a much smaller, more primitive cousin to his adversary and hurl it. The rock hit the boulder with a loud plunk before tumbling back down to the ground. 

“Knock it off, Illi,” Penn started, giving his friend a dig in the arm. “I’d say yelling won’t do anything, but in your case, yelling is only gonna make it mad.”

“Oh, please. Like it isn’t already mad!” Illinois contended. He kept his eyes glued to his craggy nemesis. “It’s because you didn’t catch me all those years ago, isn’t it? That’s your own damn fault! Losing a race to something eight times smaller and a few hundred weightclassses lighter says more about YOU than it does about your target!”

Penn narrowed his eyes, weighing the pros and cons that would come with reaching over to knock Illinois’ hat off. He’d just barely raised a hand when his gaze wandered back over to the boulder. . .to the cracks it’d left in the petrified mass. . .and he found himself frozen once more. 

“Illinois, wait—” he whispered. He started shivering, and not just from the cold lumps materializing in his throat. 

The explorer in question interrupted. “I wasn’t even taking that one idol; I was literally just trying to put it back! What the hell would a boulder want with an idol anyway?!”

“Illinois, stop, listen—!” Penn tried again, shaking his companion’s shoulder.  

Illinois cut him off yet again. “Why don’t you just sprout legs already, huh?! I’ve met rhinos who had better aim than you! And at least rhinos have bad eyesight as an excuse! You don’t even HAVE eyes, and yet you STILL try to single me out every damn year!”

“ILLINOIS!” Penn snapped, his voice shooting through several octaves as he grabbed the other man by the arm and forced him to take a few steps back.

The monologue came to an abrupt halt. Illinois swiveled his head to meet Penn’s eyes.

“What?” He asked with just a hint of attitude, looking perfectly casual for someone who had just been shouting obscenities at a boulder.

Penn gritted his teeth, his frustration giving way to fear as he frantically motioned toward the boulder. Or, to be more precise, what was happening underneath the boulder. What was happening to the remains of the mass in the pit. . .

Illinois looked back, squinting, incredulousness wafting off him in waves for about three seconds. By the fourth second, all the color drained right out of his face.

There was something on the other side of the mass. Something that was now pooling up through the new cracks with a chorus of soft, sickening sighs. 

Penn remembered watching videos of octopi using their boneless nature to their advantage, squeezing through the thinnest, tiniest, most unbelievable spaces to escape their enclosures. As stomach-churning as it’d been to watch, it’d managed to also be just as funny and fascinating.

There was only one way to see what was happening right now as funny or fascinating, and that was to simply not be human. Actually, scratch that, it involved not being anything that could be found among the natural order, or among sane, innocent minds. 

A large clot of dark, viscous tendrils clung to the boulder, slithering along to the top of it, visibly straining as more and more and more came oozing out. What was left of the petrified mass creaked and groaned and splintered, now swelling like either an egg on the brink of hatching or a pimple on the brink of popping. The pieces that hadn’t flown off were now being pushed up by the rising horror. 

It almost seemed to move like a liquid; this wasn’t tar, oil, or even the unimpressive sludge you could find anywhere just by digging deep enough to reach the moist, cold, protected bowels of soil. Magma mixed with gallons of blood was the closest guess, but that still wound up being wrong.

This was flesh. 

Blistering, boiling, contorting flesh like some awful hybrid of spider and slug that seemed to take any and all light and swallow it up.

A type of flesh that wasn’t supposed to exist.

In under a minute, enough of it had oozed out to create a mound that nearly touched the chamber’s ceiling. It kept writhing in place, but with purpose now. At least six coiling limbs sprouted from its sides, the ends of each splitting into a clutch of dripping claws.

“. . .¥ê§. . .”

The voice was like a swarm of cicadas, shifting through several pitches at once. A masculine edge seemed present somewhere within it—hell, there even seemed to be a hint of Midwestern accent, for some ungodly reason.

Holes of various shapes and sizes tore themselves open everywhere, screaming and soon gnashing as sets of shark-like teeth came blooming around them. Just as many, if not even more, eyes followed suite, bubbling through the skin, each blinking erratically and shifting through all sorts of colors. 

“¥ê§, ¥ê§, ¥È§!” The abhorrent voice continued. “̆'§ håþþêñêÐ! Ì'm ðµ†! Ì'm £ïñåll¥, £ÌñÄLL¥ ÖÚ†!”

The empty space at the top of the mound shuddered, forcing some of the material around the middle to surge upward, molding itself together to shape first a neck. . .and then a head. 

A pair of sockets drained themselves out in the front, promptly being filled by two more eyes, larger and wider and more focused than all the others.

A maw split open beneath them, revealing rows of teeth sharp enough to make even the most intimidating swords of yore look like Swiss Army toys.

“£RÈÈÐÖM!” The newly-formed monster cried, his laughter rippling through the air the same way lightning would streak through clouds and rain. 

All at once, the oily feeling was back, now focused on Penn’s chest rather than his head. It seemed to literally wash over him; the haze made him feel soaked, made his clothes feel like they were clinging to his skin. 

And unlike a few minutes ago, it wasn’t just squirming somewhere inside his flesh. 

No, this time, only half of it was doing that.

The other half was outside of him, as obvious-yet-invisible as the air itself.

And it.

Was. 

PULLING. 

Like he was a cadaver on an examining table, like the mortician had sliced a long line from his throat to his navel, like the two freshly-seperated halves of skin on his torso were being tugged apart, like his intestines were being dragged out hand-over-fist. 

None of it felt like normal pain, like real pain. 

It felt the same way a long, fat worm looked when its glistening, slimy skin was covered in fine soil. 

It felt the same way sulfur smelled as it rose up from a geyser in clouds of heavy, near-palpable fog. 

It felt the same way a infant sounded as it screamed while its umbilical cord was being cut. 

Penn knew he wasn’t bleeding, knew nothing was actually pouring out of him.

That didn’t make things any better.

His mind was bleeding. Ulcers were growing on his thoughts. 

He couldn’t know what the oily feeling was so ruthlessly taking from him, but he knew without knowing that it was something important. Something that he could survive without. . .but that kind of absence would make survival pointless. 

Pointless. . .pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, pointless, Penn’s mind chanted as the monster’s multitude of eyes all stopped moving in their sockets, pupils dilating one after the other. 

All staring at him and Illinois. 

The monster stiffened, a surprised, excited gasp rushing into the air. 

“Wêll, wêll, wêll!” With a chorus of awful pops and cracks, the monster turned his neck to gaze down, down, down, his  primary eyes shining with the same predatory slyness of a snake that had just cornered a mouse. . .or two.

“ÄñÐ hêrê Ì †hðµgh† §ðmê†hïñg wå§ ð££!”

“Oh, something’s extremely off right now,” Illinois replied. It would’ve been a totally badass gesture on his part. . .except for the fact that his typically deep, rich, velvetine voice had tapered down into a shivering squeak. 

“ñðw, Ððñ'† gê† mê wrðñg, †hï§ ï§ †hê ß꧆ †hïñg †ð håþþêñ †ð mê ïñ ÄGȧ. ßµ† £ðr å mïñµ†ê, ï† jµ§† rêåll¥ £êl† lïkê §ðmê†hïñg wå§ m裏ïñg, ¥'kñðw?” The monster explained thoughtfully, seeming much more amused than unfazed. “Äñ êvêñ† lïkê †hï§ jµ§† ï§ñ'† ¢ðmþlê†ê. . .” 

He dipped his head, lowering himself to the ground, limbs tensing and back arching. Just like a cat getting ready to pounce. 

“. . .wï†h𵆠å ñï¢ê llê rål §å¢rï£ï¢ê!”

The monster’s mouth gaped open, the abyssal skin around his jaws shuddering as he cackled. Three long, sinuous tendrils stretched out between its fangs. One of them was a blur as it cracked like a whip, seemingly of its own accord, sending droplets of ichor to splatter against the walls and floor and immediately sizzle through stone.

Penn didn’t know how—or even why—he managed to move. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the abomination, couldn’t think through the haze of dread and terror. He was beyond steadying himself, but he still moved.

Paint-coated clay greeted his palm like a friend he’d known even longer than Illinois. 

In one swift, fluid, subconscious movement, he raised the Chimera Pipe to his face. 

The strange, warbling, howling music poured into the air.

As it did, as Penn put more force behind his breath, the monster froze. 

The monster’s skin stopped writhing. Those three tongues reeled back into his mouth, vanishing within the rows upon rows upon rows of teeth. 

As Penn stared, still playing, still expecting to die. . .somehow, he caught a glimpse of a shape in the monster’s form. Smack-dab in the spot where his neck met his chest. That shape trembled in a very unpleasant way, just like those full-body-twitches people got while they slept.

And then the monster started SCREAMING. 

It was a hideous concoction of shock and pain and fury. Like nothing Penn had ever heard before and desperately hoped to never hear again. 

Yet, by some miracle, it didn’t drown out the music. 

Penn’s lungs felt like they were on fire. His teeth were vibrating. Tears cascaded out of his eyes, streaming down his face, a lucky few managing to slide onto the Chimera Pipe. 

But he kept playing it.

Even as his vision blurred, even as he felt Illinois grab him by the shoulders and start dragging him away, he kept playing it. 

All the while, the monster kept shrieking as the music drilled into whatever awful mess his ears were. 

Penn just kept on playing. . .until. . .until. . .UNTIL. . .

___

“Ì'll å§k ågåïñ: hðw êx墆l¥,” the monster seethed, “ÐïÐ ¥ðµ gê† ¥ðµr grïm¥ llê håñЧ ðñ †hê§ê. . .†hïñg§?” He jabbed an accusatory talon first in the Chimera Pipe’s direction, then pivoted it toward the Warden, spitting out the last word like it was a rotten oyster. 

He’d gone back and forth between leering at the trapped archeology buffs and snarling at the Chimera Pipe multiple times now. Because it seemed that one of the very few things he couldn’t do was get too close to it, let alone try to touch it. He’d already hovered one of his hand-like appendages over it, only to snatch it away and hiss a few seconds later, as though the clay instrument had an invisible cloud of poison around it. 

“And I’ll tell you as many times as I have to: it’s none of your fucking business!” Illinois retorted. “Besides, you’re one to talk. Our hands aren’t grimy, and they’re not little, either.”

In spite of his horror, Penn couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in Illinois’ direction. The monster’s palms seemed to be as wide as the jeep’s tires (for now, at least).

A strange growl rose from the monster’s throat, sort of like a honey badger that just pulled what was left of its tail out of a malfunctioning garbage disposal. It signaled the very odd way of how the creature’s anger issues combined with the fact that hell would have to freeze over before said creature even thought about giving a damn.

The growl transitioned into an equally grating chuckle as the monster lightly shook his head. “¥ðµr §þê¢ïê§ ðñl¥ hå§ å £êw †hïñg§ gðïñg £ðr ï†. ÄñÐ Ì gµê§§ mðxïê ï§ ðñê 𣠆hêm.”

The monster obviously couldn’t relate to humans (or anything that had been born on Earth, for that matter). There was no doubt that he saw things differently, considering how his too-many eyes rolled and shook and popped and melted and dilated and constricted and. . .

Therefore, Penn had no idea how the monster saw things like moxie.

Moxie felt more distant than the setting sun, than the slowly-dying light that was clawing against the ground. 

As much of an adrenaline junkie as Illinois was, as stubborn as he was to sass a warping mound of flesh made of nightmares, it was easy to tell that he was terrified. Anyone with a single, solitary iota of sanity would be terrified.

Penn couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so helpless. As he stared through the windshield, the monster had most of his attention, of course. . .but the Chimera Pipe was quite a strong contender, what with how it was now lying on the ground just a few feet away from the jeep. 

How had he possibly dropped it? 

It shouldn’t have mattered how fast he and Illinois had been running, how violently he’d been shaking. He should’ve had the death-grip to end all goddamn death-grips on that thing. 

If he hadn’t dropped it, then he could’ve kept on playing it. 

If he could keep on playing it, then maybe that would’ve forced the monster to leave him and Illinois alone. Penn was sure that the monster would keep coming back to prowl around them, taunting or threatening or making sarcastic attempts at cajoling, but at least the pipe’s music would’ve forced him to keep just a little more distance than this. 

But that wasn’t going to happen, because he’d dropped it like only a disposable movie character could. Now, staying in this car, watching the monster’s body spasm and twist, listening to his vile smalltalk was the only option he and Illinois had. 

Oh sure, Illinois had taken the Warden’s string from around his neck, opting instead to tie it to the rearview mirror and let the totem slowly spin to and fro. 

While Penn now understood how the creepy little thing truly did have some protective mojo to it, whatever supernatural vibes that wafted off of it only kept the monster from pressing his horrific face right up against the windows.

Because life could just never be bothered to be that easy or fair.

“What the hell are you?” Penn finally blurted. “What was that stuff in the chamber? How long were you down there?” 

One of the monster’s primary eyes slid around on his face and drilled into Penn’s brown, watery orbs. He was unable to look away as that eye twitched—no, squirmed in its socket. Little lumps appeared under the sclera, bulging and stretching until a bunch of spindly shapes burst through. 

. . .Arms. Nine tiny arms that thrashed the air as the monster’s quivering pinprick pupil spun in the center of them. Not just clawing aimlessly; they were trying to reach for Penn, every single one of them. 

Penn clasped a hand over his mouth to keep something much more solid than his ragged breath from spilling through his lips. 

The monster chuckled again. “Wêll, †hå† l姆 qµê§†ïðñ ï§ †hê êå§ï꧆: †ÖÖ ÐÄMñ LÖñG. §ïñ¢ê ßê£ðrê ¥ðµr åñ¢ê§†ðr§ wêrê êvêñ rð¢kïñg ïñ †hêïr ¢råÐlê§.” The monster then cupped his chin with one of his many maladjusted hands, casually drumming another set of crooked digits on the jeep’s hood. “ÄñÐ Ì'm håþþ¥ †ð åñ§wêr †hê ð†hêr§. . .ï£ ¥ðµ ¢ðmê 𵆠hêrê.”

The nausea was stubborn, but Penn still managed to furrow his brow and roll his eyes. “Right, right. Why wouldn’t we have a meet n’ greet with the same thing that just tried to kill us?”

“ßê¢åµ§ê ¥ðµ ÖWÈ mê!” The monster snapped, a metallic screech mixing into his tone as he dragged his claws along. 

Illinois blinked incredulously. “How do you figure that?”

The monster resumed pacing around the jeep—well, slithering was probably a better term, since he didn’t seem to move any muscles or make any sort of effort. And yet he moved with fluid, frightening speed.

“¥ðµ †wð £rêêÐ mê. W̆HÖÚ† £ïñÐïñg å wå¥ †ð ¢ðññꢆ ¥ðµr§êlvê§ †ð mê, Ì mïgh† åÐÐ.”

The jeep as a whole suddenly dipped, leaving Penn to presume that the monster was now leaning on the top. He thanked his lucky stars that the sunroof’s fabric panel was closed against the glass.

“. . .Technically, that damn boulder freed you,” Illinois argued. 

“¥êåh, wêll, ¥ðµ ßrðµgh† †hê ßðµlÐêr hêrê ïñ †hê £ïr§† þlå¢ê!” The monster sputtered. “Ì£ ¥ðµ †hïñk ¥ðµ ¢åñ jµ§† wålk åwå¥ £rðm whå† håþþêñêÐ êårlïêr, †hêñ Ì'vê gð† §ðmê ñï¢ê ßêå¢h-§ïÐê þrðþêr†¥ ïñ †hê †hðµ§åñÐ-È¥êÐ †ï¢k Qµêêñ'§ þð¢kê† Ðïmêñ§ïðñ †ð §êll ¥ðµ.”

“Ha! Four-and-a-half vengeance curses have been put on my head, and I managed to get through all of them!” Illinois craned his neck to aim a smug smirk at the monster. “If dodging consequences was a sport, I’d be in the Hall of Fame.” 

The monster groaned, a huge forked tongue flicking in and out of his maw like a party favor. He began to mutter under his breath in a very much non-English language, closing each and every one of his eyes for almost a full minute. The way they all eventually snapped open again would’ve given anyone with trypophobia a stroke.

“†hå†'§ whå† ¥ðµ †hïñk rïgh† ñðw. Ì'vê ålrêåÐ¥ gð††êñ å gððÐ rêåÐ ðñ ¥ðµr §ðµl, åñÐ… 墆µåll¥, ñêvêr mïñÐ. Ì wðµlÐñ'† wåñ† †ð §þðïl åñ¥†hïñg.” The monster hummed with malicious delight. He then sighed, drumming whip-thin tendrils against the back window. “Lððk, ï§ ï† †hê §þïÐêr'§ £åµl† whêñ å ßµñ¢h 𣠣lïê§ gê† §†µ¢k ïñ  wêß? ñð. Må¥ßê †hê £lïê§ wï§h ï† wå§, ßµ† Ðêêþ Ððwñ †hê¥ kñðw †hå† †hê¥ gð† †hêm§êlvê§ †råþþêÐ.”

“Wow. It’s almost like the spider spun that web in the first place,” Penn muttered. 

“Èx墆l¥! ßê¢åµ§ê †hå†'§ †hê §þïÐêr'§ rïgh†. †hå†'§ jµ§† hðw §þïÐêr§ lïvê.” The monster peeked over that spot where the roof met the top of the windshield. “§ð, hðw ï§ ï† åñ¥ Ðêrêñ† ï£ Ì †åkê ¥ðµ?”

“If we had any way of actually knowing that you were somewhere in Chuck’s Hole, then we never would’ve gone poking around in it!” Illinois contended, raising his arms in a frustrated lame gesture.

And now it was the monster’s turn to blink. It took much longer than it probably should have “. . .Ì'm jµ§† gðññå ïgñðrê †hê £å¢† †hå† å hµmåñ ï§ ¢ållïñg m¥ þrï§ðñ ‘Çhµ¢k’§ Hðlê.’”

Penn froze again for three, maybe five seconds, before doing something he hadn’t thought was possible right now: he sputtered a laugh. It was a very small and very short-lived laugh, yes, but it still seemed to echo through the jeep’s interior. 

A name like Chuck’s Hole just had some weird magic to it. 

It was funny even when spoken by a gruesome Stephen-King-wet-dream-come-to-life whose voice sounded like broken glass that just so happened to be dripping with blood. 

Illinois swallowed a lump in his throat, glancing at Penn and offering a tiny, grateful smile. 

Hell, even the monster seemed to be biting back a grin at such a title; or, the extra mouth that had just opened up somewhere on his stomach-region was doing that, at least. The monster’s primary mouth continued to snarl, his front row of teeth actively lengthening and curving upward like tusks.

His weight disappeared from the jeep’s roof. Subsequent thumps and slight bounces were elicited from the undercarriage as he crawled beneath it, making Penn think of a shark lurking just below a fishing boat. 

“Öh ¢’mðñ, Ìllïñðï§. §ðmêðñê wï†h ¥ðµr ïñ§†ïñ¢†§, ¥ðµr êxþêrïêñ¢ê, ñð† ålrêåÐ¥ kñðwïñg †hå† §ðmê†hïñg lïkê mê wå§ wåï†ïñg £ðr ¥ðµ Ððwñ †hêrê?” The monster surged back up and stood right next to the driver-side door. He shrunk to the size of a normal man, but his eyes and mouth were still far too large as he peered at Illinois through the window. 

He nodded toward the mouth of the cavern and giggled, a chittering noise similar to an engine that was melting from the inside out. “¥ðµ ¢åñ'† §êrïðµ§l¥ êxþꢆ µ§ †ð ßêlïêvê †hå†.”

Rotating his head at a 270 degree angle, the monster leaned closer, just enough so that the discolored steam of his breath fogged up the glass. The horribly strange sweetness that could only ever waft off of rotting flesh seeped into the car. 

“ñð, ¥ðµ håÐ å £êêlïñg åß𵆠mê. †hå†'§ wh¥ ¥ðµ wåñ†êÐ ¥ðµr £rïêñÐ hêrê †ð ¢ðmê ålðñg, ï§ñ'† ï†? †ð gïvê hïm å §†ðr¥ †hå† wðµlР墆µåll¥ ßê ïmþrꧧïvê †ð †êll? †ð §hðw hïm å rêål ¢hållêñgê? †ð †ê§† hïm åñÐ þrðvê †hå† hê §†ïll ¢åñ'† håñÐlê å§ mµ¢h å§ ¥ðµ ¢åñ?”

For the very first time all day, the energy drained from Illinois’ features. 

His mouth dropped, opening and closing with no words coming out. His eyes bulged from their sockets, contorted by his brow as a dark, slick, awful form of guilt welled inside them. 

He forcefully bowed his head, now trying to keep his focus on the steering wheel and only the steering wheel.

He’d shown fear before, but this was different. 

This was despair. 

 “NO!”

The monster’s head snapped up, now gazing through the jeep, past Illinois, who didn’t dare budge an inch.

Penn dug his nails into the armrest, feeling beads of sweat materialize on his forehead. He’d surprised himself before, but never quite like this. 

“ÐïÐ Ì hêår ¥ðµ rïgh†?” Some of the monster’s eyes narrowed in time with how his smile sharpened. “ÇðµlÐ ¥ðµ rêþêå† †hå† £ðr mê?”

“I said NO!” Penn echoed, his heart beating with the speed of a phantom hummingbird. “Illinois didn’t drag me into anything! We made the mutual decision to come here!”

Penn’s throat was raw from all the acidic bile he’d been keeping down, his jaw ached as though he’d just sprinted in a marathon. 

“He doesn’t think any less of me just because my work is different from his! He’s never tried to test me before, and that’s not what he was doing today! He’s one of my best friends! We work on projects like this because we respect each other! You’re wrong!”

In his peripheral vision, he watched as Illinois kept his head down, quiet as a statue. Aside from the way his hands trembled, it truly seemed like he would never move again.

“. . .Mê? Wrðñg?” Amusement crept into the monster’s rolling eyes. He seemed to tsk-tsk at Penn’s statement, unwinding the sound into a mess of clicks and hisses. “ ñ È V È R . ”

Penn blinked, and the monster was suddenly looming right outside the passenger door. Now staring at him through the quickly-fogging glass. 

It was all Penn could do to not shrink back as the monster bared his teeth. “Wh¥ §hðµlÐ ¥ðµ þµ† ðñ åïr§, ¢ðñ§ïÐêrïñg whå† ¥ðµr ¢ðµ§ïñ§ årê Ððïñg?”

Penn's shoulders slumped out of raw, blind confusion. “. . .W-wha—?”

The monster smirked like the leader of a high school gossip-mill. “Öñê 𣠥ðµr ¢ðµ§ïñ§ W̧Hȧ hê håÐ †êê†h lïkê mïñê. Hê jµ§† LÖVȧ ßï†ïñg ïñ†ð †hê þïñk §†rꆢh 𣠣lê§h! Hê måkê§ hï§ lïvïñg §lïÐïñg kñïvê§ ålðñg §kïñ åñÐ §¢råþïñg †hêm ågåïñ§† ßðñê§. W冢hïñg lï£ê Ðråïñ 𵆠ð£ ê¥ê§ åñÐ †hrð冧 åñÐ £êêlïñg ï† rµ§h ðvêr hï§ håñЧ, åll wårm åñÐ rêÐ.”

As the monster spoke, the grin on his face kept growing. . .and growing. . .and growing. His lips just didn’t stop peeling back, didn’t stop stretching. A grotesque amount of new teeth had to materialize to fill his expression.

In less than a minute, the monster’s entire face was a maw, his eyes having been overtaken by the layers upon layers of enamel and sinew.

“. . .Öh, ÐïÐñ'† ¥ðµ kñðw †hå†, þêññ? ÐïÐñ'† ¥ðµ kñðw †hå† ðñê 𣠥ðµr ¢ðµ§ïñ§ ï§ å ßµ†¢hêr? ÐÌÐñ'† ¥ÖÚ?!” The monster then threw his head back and laughed, revealing multiple sets of malformed jaws nestled inside his hellish smile.

The oily haze tugged at Penn’s guts yet again. It hurt in the same, surreal way as before. . .but not quite as much. This time, while he was definitely losing something he still couldn’t identify, it came out in more of an unsteady trickle than a firm, ruthless pace. 

It was similar to a nightmare. It almost felt real, but it just couldn’t fully exist. Not while there was a physical shield between prey and predator.

Sooner or later, the monster’s laughing fit died down to mere giggles. That wasn’t much of an improvement, since the giggles in question felt like drops of boiling water to the ears, but at least it wasn’t as loud. 

“Jµ§† §ðmê†hïñg †ð ¢hêw ðñ,” the monster mentioned. “Må¥ßê µ§ê lïñê§ lïkê †hå† ï£ ¥ðµ §êê hïm; Ì †hïñk hê'Ð åþþrê¢ïå†ê ï†.”

Penn knew he should’ve passed out by now. He should’ve crumpled onto the glove compartment and accidentally set off the airbags (thankfully, Illinois wasn’t in the proper headspace to get angry at something like that) and stayed that way until he was forcefully woken up at a hospital. 

But he was still awake, so his subconscious decided that he might as well keep on surprising himself. 

“Sure,” he replied, voice hollow and quiet. “I’ll take advice from something that can’t even break a single damn window.” 

Those layers of teeth pulled away from the monster’s face, letting his eyes reappear just in time to give Penn a vicious, appraising look that reached into him and made his pancreas break into a cold sweat. 

The monster clicked one of his tongues again. “Mðxïê.”

Then, with a terrible cr-i-i-i-ck, the monster’s head turned away, taking his focus off of Penn and directing toward the space behind the jeep. A shudder ran through his contorting body; his eyes all widened as he rolled his shoulders.

Heart in his throat, Penn’s eyes ventured to the rearview mirror. The reflection was still and silent; nothing but rocky sand that made up the ground, complimented by the dry shrubs and cacti growning here and there. More rock spires stood patiently, looking like simple smudges in the air due to the distance, just barely visible in the moonlight. 

Penn felt his stomach drop for what had to be the sixty-ninth time today.

THE MOONLIGHT. . .

The sun had set. Everything was dark now. 

“Äh, †hå†'§ mµ¢h ßꆆêr. ßrïgh†ñꧧ åñÐ hêå† måkê§ mê h,” the monster announced, his twisted voice forcibly snagging Penn’s focus and shoving it in the right direction.

The monster slid back from the jeep, still in full-view of its occupants from the windshield. He remained the size of a human, with a shape that was almost convincing. 

Almost was the key word here, since most humans didn’t tend to have an assortment of eye-and-mouth-covered tentacles where a pair of legs should’ve been. 

“Gµê§§ ï†'§ ¥ðµr lµ¢k¥ Ðå¥, ßð¥§!” The monster chirped, sarcasm mixed with a fair bit of unholy venom dripping from his maw. “Ì mïgh† †ê¢hñï¢åll¥ håvê åll †hê †ïmê ïñ †hê wðrlÐ, ßµ† Ì'vê ålrêåÐ¥ w姆êÐ êñðµgh ð£ ï† hêrê.”

He swayed from side-to-side like a flower caught in a gentle breeze. A third eye opened up in the center of his forehead, pitch-black with a shaking, shining white pupil. It squinted at Penn in a mocking-yet-thoughtful way. 

A distinct pinching sensation bloomed under the skin of Penn’s face, followed by a faint dripping noise in the back of his head.

The monster snickered as the third eye sunk back into whatever special kind of hell was lurking inside him. “§ðmê §å¥ ¥ðµ'rê ñêvêr ålðñê ïñ †hê Ðårk. ÄñÐ å§ †rµê å§ †hå† ï§. . .†hê Ðårk ï§ñ'† whå† ¥ðµ ñêêÐ †ð wðrr¥ åßðµ†. ¥ðµ kñðw wh¥?”

Grotesque stretching noises ripped through the quiet as his skin split on several different areas of his body, like seams bursting on a raggedy doll.

“ßê¢åµ§ê †hê êx墆 §åmê †hïñg gðê§ £ðr ¥ÖÚR MÌñÐ.”

Without warning, the monster’s form began to unravel. 

His writhing, warping flesh almost seemed paper-thin. Strips of it tore themselves away in various sizes, first lapping at the air around him, and then curling through it. 

“ñð m円êr whêrê ¥ðµ gð, whå† ¥ðµ §êê ðr Ðð, hðw ¥ðµ †hïñk åñÐ Ðrêåm åñÐ lïvê. . .”

They all formed a shadowy a halo around him, moved with the same impossible sychronized grace as a school of fish. The process was a blur, moving too quickly and too slowly.

“†hêrê'll ålw奧 ßê ð†hêr †hïñg§ wåï†ïñg £ðr ¥ðµ ïñ †hêrê. ÄLWÄ¥§.”

The strips of skin began to dissolve into nothingness, the same way wisps of steam would vanish as soon as they climbed high enough. All at once, the only seemingly solid parts left were the monster’s primary eyes, as well as his jagged, glinting teeth. Those features hung in the air, glowing and staring and grinning like some psychotic bastardization of the Cheshire Cat. 

“Wêll, †hå†'§ åßðµ† ï† £ðr ñðw. Ì'll £ïñÐ ¥ðµ ågåïñ §ðmêÐå¥!”

The eyes flickered, melting in place. The teeth gnashed, abandoning their structured rows in favor of gliding around in a tight, sharp circle. 

“  Ì ' l l   £ ï ñ Ð   ¥ ð µ   å g å å å å å ï ï ï ñ  ! ”

And then. . .they were gone. 

Just like that.

As if nothing had even been there in the first place.

Penn stared at the empty space for what felt like an hour. Then a strong, salty, metallic taste dribbled into his mouth and broke the spell. The organic stench clung to the back of his throat, feeling dry and moist at the same time. He shook his head in revulsion.

Thanks to the lack of light, his reflection in the car window was just an inch away from not being visible at all. The amount of blood seeping from his nose changed that rather quickly. His hands moved in a mechanical manner, fishing napkins and tissues from the glovebox to wad up and press against his face.

Illinois was still holding his head low, shivering, knuckles white around the steering wheel.

Not-so-distant memories of the chamber came flooding in, and before Penn knew it, his free hand was wrapping around the Warden, tugging it away from the rearview mirror and pushing it up to Illinois’ temple. 

A shudder ran through the adventurer’s shoulders before they visibly loosened up. His grip slackened. But his jaw was still clenched, and his eyes were still glued to his lap.

So, Penn did the next best thing: he gripped the ends of the Warden’s string and rotated his fist, making the totem spin in a circle. A breathy whistle began to cut through the silence.

Once the creepy little doll was a blur, Penn grabbed Illinois’ hat and flung it to the backseat. He then flicked his wrist, causing it to crash against the top of Illinois’ head.

The ensuing thunk! was promptly drowned out as Illinois all but trebucheted himself against the window. “—aaaAAAUUGH GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!”

“Hey! Heyheyhey! Illinois! Illinois, calm down!” Penn cried, grabbing his companion’s arm. 

Illinois’ movements slowed, and eventually stopped, though his chest heaved in and out with unnecessary force. He gazed at Penn with wide, bloodshot eyes. 

Penn quietly reached under his seat and produced one of many spare water bottles. The plastic was sweaty, the ice inside having melted long ago, but still cold to the touch. He offered it to Illinois, who shakily took it and started chugging. 

“Not too fast, you’ll make yourself sick,” Penn half-heartedly coached as he shoved the tissues into a trash bag by his shoes. His nose should’ve taken longer to stop bleeding.

Illinois’ voice was a sopping-wet wheeze as he finally put the bottle down, having emptied half of its contents. “. . .Feel like that’s the least of our worries.” 

“Don’t remind me.” 

Penn set the Warden down on the dashboard, sliding it across to its owner. 

Illinois didn’t hesitate to grab it and hold it close to his chest like a little boy who’d just found a beloved stuffed animal he’d lost a couple weeks ago. He closed his eyes, gently tapping his fingers against the doll’s head in a quick, specific rhythm. This carried on for a moment, and some of the tension drained away from his features. His breathing slowed into a little sigh. 

His eyes snapped back open and automatically began squinting at Penn. 

The paleontologist raised his hands in a confused, defensive gesture. 

“Where’s the pipe?” Illinois murmured. 

Penn pursed his lips as he nodded at the windshield. The Chimera Pipe was, indeed, still out there, laying on the ground in a way that made it seem to be staring at the sky.

Illinois nodded, clicking his tongue. “Go get it.” 

Penn flinched, eyes darting over to the mouth of the cave. To the palpable-looking darkness that waited further inside. . .

“He’s gone, Penn,” Illinois reassured, though his face twisted at such a gruesomely obvious mention. “If he was still here, we’d both feel it. Trust me.”

It took another awkward minute for Penn to reach over and grab the door’s handle. He sucked in a deep breath through his teeth and sprinted out, nearly tripping into a slide on the dusty gravel.

Then the car door was slamming shut and he was back in his seat, this time with the beastly ocarina resting on his lap. It grinned up at him, its bruise-colored paint shining in the dim light. 

Penn was so caught up in staring at its little eye-holes that he didn’t hear the jingle of keys or the engine finally starting to rumble. (He barely even noticed the string of profanities on Illinois’ part.)

For the next five minutes or so, the only thing to register was the rumbling of tires beneath his feet. 

Finally, Penn forced himself to break the silence. “. . .So, we’re going back to the hotel?”

Illinois nodded, not taking his eyes off of the road. “And once we get there, we’re packing up and heading home.”

Under normal circumstances, that type of last-minute nonsense would’ve left Penn all sorts of aggravated. But these circumstances were nowhere near normal. Even with how late it was, how Penn was feeling a type of fatigue that should only come after you had all but a pint of blood sucked out by a swarm of mosquitos, Penn knew he wouldn’t be able to get any sleep tonight. Not for the next couple nights, really.

“We’ll have to call a company before we leave, though,” Illinois sighed. “To get Chuck’s Hole sealed off, I mean. No-one else can go down there. It might have other. . .things waiting.”

A small, vague hum was the only response Penn could come up with. That was what confirmed how the rest of the night wasn’t exactly going to be pleasant; the title wasn’t even enough to make him or his friend laugh like before.

Illinois seemed to glance at him, to catch the state of his features, to maybe even read his mind for a second or two. “Things’ll turn up, Penn. I can guess how you’re feeling right now, but that’s just because it’s your first time dealing with something like this. We’ll both bounce back, I swear.”

Penn turned the Chimera Pipe in his hands, drumming his fingers on its clay teeth. “Be honest: does the whole ‘happens to the best of us’ schtick really apply right now?”

“Yeah, it does,” Illinois said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ve had worse experiences.” 

Penn rolled his eyes, bracing his elbow near the window to rest his cheek against his palm. “Oh, let me guess: sometime before you even met me, you wound up accidentally releasing a surreal-horror-manifest just like the one who was looking at us like someone wheeled out a birthday cake?”

Illinois’ face went blank for several seconds, making a clear effort to stay focused on driving rather than stare at his companion with unfathomable dark eyes. 

Fortunately for him, Penn took on staring for the both of them, now worried. “Illinois?”

Illinois sighed again, lightly shaking his head. “. . .I wouldn’t say that guy was exactly like the one we just saw. For one thing, he was on the other side of a door at the end of a hall—”

“You’re kidding.”

Illinois didn’t answer. 

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Penn repeated, voice completely and utterly deadpan. “Please. You have so much to live for.” 

“You’re right, I do.” Illinois snorted, seemingly in spite of  himself. “That’s why I take the Warden with me everywhere. That’s why I string it up on the door before I go to bed. So I don’t have to hear any knocking or demands or bribes or. . .” He trailed off, hands slowly but surely starting to shake on the steering wheel again. 

One of Penn's sore eyes twitched. He didn’t want to close them; closing them would only conjure images of writhing flesh, of too many eyes where there shouldn’t be eyes, of too many teeth where there shouldn’t be teeth. 

Still, he had to. He had to close them and knead at him forehead in a strange effort to keep his braincells intact.  “. . .Oh my God, Illi. . .”

The jeep shuddered as Illinois drove, the sandy road a bit loose under its tires. 

The blurry figures of cacti stood almost at attention as the duo passed them by; a tiny owl poked its head out of a hole in the base of one, its huge, curious eyes shining in the dark. If you concentrated, you could just make out the howls of coyotes somewhere off in the distance. 

Illinois spoke up again, a hefty dose of hesitation having been injected into his voice. “What did he mean about your cousins?”

A spark of cold energy rattled through Penn’s ribs and plummeted into his stomach. “I didn’t think you actually heard that.”

“Well, I did. What did he mean when he said. . .those things?” Illinois coughed.

“I. . .” Penn stayed quiet for a moment before sighing again, this time with an air that was more anxious than tired. “I have absolutely no idea. I haven’t seen or heard from either of them since we were kids.”

Illinois considered this. The thoughtfulness in his eyes wasn’t a hopeful type. “You really don’t know?”

Penn shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

Illinois cringed, carefully sending a concerned look his companion’s way. “If that’s the case, then you need to find out sometime.” 

Penn didn’t know how to reply to that. 

So, he settled on gazing at the sky through the window, nervously taking in the moon’s silvery glow, trying to ignore what felt like sharp teeth wrapped around his lungs.

@sammys-magical-au @insane4fandoms @im-a-weird0 @b-is-in-the-closet

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Ficfinder finds: The Lemonade Leak

Chapter 18: The Noun

Chapter 18 Summary: No summary

The Noun: Appraisal and Ratings

(Don't know what fanfic "Appraisal and Ratings" means? Check out my explanation on my Main Masterpost! Looking for a different fanfic to read? Head on over to my Fanfic List Masterpost!)

Disclaimer: This fanfic is only available to those who have an Ao3 profile. This fanfic is written by @turtleinsoup, so go show them some love and support!!

The fanfic ratings are not based on quality, favoritism, or how good I think it is, but rather, how intense a subject may be. Like a movie review, or the tags on Ao3, letting the readers know what to expect.

Plot: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Plot is five out of five!! So many things are finally explained in this chapter!! Secrets revealed, misunderstanding clarified, but only for the readers, and theories put to rest. The plot for this chapter is very heavy, a huge lore drop if you will. Quite intense."

Suspense/Mystery: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Suspense/Mystery is two out of five!! The suspense and mystery level for this chapter isn't as high as the others, as in this chapter, many things are cleared up. Don't get me wrong, its still suspenseful and full of its own brand of mystery!! The mystery we had been hung up on, is cleared up, to make room for new drama and mystery ^^"

Angst/Hurt: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Angst/Hurt is five out of five!! Oh this chapter is its own special brand of angst and hurt all in of itself. Now that we know what's going on with Donnie, the interactions the disaster twins share, are even more painful. This stuff hurts the soul y'know!!"

Fluff/Comfort: 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Fluff/Comfort is zero out of five! No comfort, no fluff, no happy feelings. This chapter is packed with cold hard truth and realizations."

Emotions Conveyed: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Emotions Conveyed is four out of five!! I'd say this chapter really exudes a strong sensation of "OH CRAP, NO LEO!! AUGH, NO DONNIE!!" Basically panic, and realization lol"

Drama/Tension Level: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Drama/Tension Level is five out of five!! I'd absolutely say this chapter had a lot of drama!! A lot of events were covered in a short period of time, and a lot of things were revealed. The most tension in this chapter, for sure happened between Donnie and Leo, which is only made even more prominent after realizing that they're totally misunderstanding each other."

Triggers: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Triggers for this chapter are four out of five. As this chapter spans multiple events, we revisit a few triggers that happen in past chapters, and see new ones from Donnie's POV. Read the tags to stay safe!!"

Legibility (Reading): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Reading) is five out of five!! Absolutely stunning!! Once again, Donnie thinking in calculations and codes, is just so unique looking, so very atheistic!! I love it!! This chapter for sure is one to read!!"

Legibility (Audio): 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Legibility (Audio) is zero out of five! On the flip side of having such unique and beautiful formatting choices, this chapter isn't really a good one to listen to. All that hard work gets lost in audio book form, and its really hard to understand. Read this chapter for sure, don't listen to it!!"

Length: 💛💛💛💛🖤

"Length is four out of five!! Chapter 18 of The Lemonade Leak takes about 57-58 minutes to listen to!!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter ->

<- Previous

The Lemonade Leak: Story Ratings and Chapter List

Personal thoughts on chapter below cut (Contains Spoilers)

But once the haze of mind-numbing agony had died down, and his service bots had wiped up the mess, Donnie had forced himself re-calculate. It had led him here: His laboratory, at 01:12 AM. EST, committing something that would, by every definition, subtract the last [human]hood from his self. But oh, I can’t get away from inside my own body. - I can run, but like code, I’ll always return to the calling function

Donnie’s mind is built to operate like a computer. He always has a command, he follows a main code, and he always has a return point. If any of that is broken, he basically malfunctions.

She spiked the Histamine and Glutamate levels of his central nervous system, igniting pain sensation through his body. Donnie tried to gasp for air, but she sat in his lungs, forcing his breath slow. She crawled through his throat, her output vibrating through his lower skull: [THE CAUSE OF “YOUR” SENTIENCE] she said [IT SERVES OR SUCCUMBS.]

The Krang has a ton of control over him!! A lot more than what you usually see. Rather than just controlling him as a whole, she controls his individual bodily functions. Which, if you ask me, is scarier than entire bodily control. Because, she could, at any moment, just make his liver stop working. She could make him throw up. She could force him to breathe, make him sleep, any of those things. 

To become [Krang], and therefore, logically, become my own [Leader].

This is so massively clever!! It honestly blew my mind when I read it. Because Krang has more power, Donnie has to follow it. Just how Leo is able to overpower Donnie through manipulation, that makes him his “leader”. However, when was had the designated position of power, Donnie, while he still followed him, recognized that Leo had more authority than Raph. I dunno, I’m going off on a tangent, it’s just so wonderfully fascinating and interesting!!

Donnie inspected his new, too-sharp fangs in the reflection of a black screen. His teeth looked disgusting, too animalistic in ways that didn’t fit the room of his mouth. He stumbled backward from the monitor.

Both Donnie and Leo have sharp teeth now. Sharp and animalistic teeth, changed by their “deaths.” Leo died physically, while Donnie died mentally, then they both came back. 

Donnie carved chunks of tissue from the drone’s meat. He winced at the wet sounds, as he dropped the tissue into his vials. But he could do it, He could! “So gooey, so fascinating, so enlighten– ugh yup, I hate it,” he muttered. “You know, this would be less disgusting if you’d be less alive, hm.” The Drone watched him with beady milk-yellow eyes. It twitched, but it stayed on its knees. Donnie cringed, packing away his vials. “Nothing this big has a right to be this ineffective,” he muttered. “This is not going to do it. I need a higher quantity. Or concentration.” He eyed the parasite. “You don’t happen to have any friends?” It was hard to sense more meat through the thick metal walls around here. “No? No mothermind nearby? Sweet second brain. Who’d have guessed, with how good of a listener you are,” he clicked his tongue and turned to scan the darkness of the tunnel for more flesh.

It’s interesting to see this from Donnie’s POV. Leo watched this from the corners, tense, wild, hardly breathing. He thinks his brother is planning horrible things. Yet from Donnie’s view, this is a gross necessity. A something to do, to be back in control. 

Donnie started: “I… fixed the locks. It doesn’t open so easily anymore.” Donnie clicked his tongue, fiddling with his staff. “You think it’s… I don’t know, somehow lacking?” Leo studied him. “No. Why?” “I put thought into it, you know. Into most... things I do.”

Once again, the contrast between Leo’s POV and Donnie’s POV is astounding!! Leo takes this as threatening words, and complicated statements to pick apart, while in reality, Donnie is just struggling for words. He’s scared, upset, and is limited. 

Imagine we could circumvent your programming! You’d be free of Draxum’s orders! We’d be equals, we’d become unstoppable! “Imagine what we can do if we’re free, Nardo. Who pray to tell could stop us?!”

So many unsaid thoughts! Donnie thinks Leo understands, and he’s so overwhelmed, that he’s jumping to conclusions, just like Leo. 

He changed and it hurt, hurt, hurt in ways and concepts he couldn’t grasp inside his little meat-mind-matter. He felt his dwindled muscles changing their molecular structure, too much potential energy contained in his too-slim mass. He felt new limbs grow inside him, small-needle like arms, that he could press outward if he wanted to – He never did.

Donnie’s got a what?!? More limbs?! I wanna know more about this. 

Leo’s head hit the breakfast table and Donnie thought: I’ll have to give him the sleeping pills I made to keep [Dad] down.

0~0 

Donnie knows that Splinter would get to the bottom of his transformation, possibly faster than his brothers. But the fact that he’s using those on his dad? Goodness…

In a private nook of his mind, Donnie thanked the laws of ontogeny for the information. Fermi, Imagine I’m suddenly getting the need to enslave humans. April would have my tail for that. Donnie carefully took the basket from Mikey’s hands and placed it on top of the shelf.

I enjoy how Donnie uses a wide variety of scientists and mathematicians in his exclamations. It’s fun!

A painful laugh punched through Donnie’s throat. “You think my grand evil Krang plan has anything to do with you?!” You seriously think I was gonna- Are you- “Little full of yourself, Nardo,” Donnie said weakly. Leo gave him a rough little giggle. “Yeah.” Leo’s smile was one he used for enemies. “Vain of me, huh? Thinking putting a Krang in the prison dimension will get me a place on their- I dunno,” New swells of blood shook from Leo’s arm, with every little laugh, “top ten list of people to kill?”

I have never seen such a perfect example of how sentences and words can be misinterpreted. I see it in writing all the time, but this example just takes the cake!! Leo sees Donnie’s sentences as villains triumphant words. As winning sentences. Donnie however, yes horrified and scared, with no other way to express that than through anger. 

[simeffable]

Hi! I love the vampire slayer sim you made me, and I love playing her in my gameplay. I had to come back and ask, humbly, for another sim from you. If that's okay, I would request, if you please, a hornless demon sim inspired by this video. thank you either way!

I am SO sorry I let this stew for so long, I have an AWFUL attention span and kept getting distracted by other projects! Here she is ! The video has very strong Jennifer's Body vibes so I lent into that, and went with the cliché 'siren man-eating cheerleader' thing–hope thats good with you!

Tiffani Carmona

• Mostly BGC, Vampires needed (obvs) and possibly Werewolves for one nail set but not really necessary.

• All Outfits. Occult "Dark Form" included.

• Photos taken with HQ Mod, but not all textures are necessarily HQ size.

• CC included.

download/SFS

Thank you so much for the request and your patience! I hope she's worth the wait :)

Disclaimer: None of the CC used is my own, huge thanks to creators @simstrouble, @sewersims, @bluecravingcc, @northernsiberiawinds, @twisted-cat, @remussims, @pralinesims, @obscurus-sims, @nell-le, @miikocc, @luumia, @plumbheadsims, @oydis, @arethabee, @rheallsim, @lutessasims, @chernobog, @softerhaze, and @velouria!

[coffeencream]

REVIEW: Babel by RF Kuang

A quick disclaimer before we start- this book impacted me very heavily, and because of those strong emotions I think I have to include some spoilers in this review to process what I felt in the book’s heaviest moments. You’ve been warned!

Robin Swift was taken from his homeland to become a scholar. Thanks to his powerful and mysterious guardian Richard Lovell, an 18 year old Robin becomes one of four new undergraduate students at the Royal Translation Institute, aka Babel. He meets his cohort- dazzling Ramiz Mirza, fierce Victoire Desgraves, and posh Letty Price. From there, an unbelievable, years-spanning epic of magic, academia, love and betrayal.

I’ll start by saying that I absolutely loved the magic system in Babel, because it’s so simple- words are power, just like they are in the real world. I think this works beautifully to illustrate Kuang’s main arguments about colonialism in the book, because it literalizes the way that empire depends heavily on those they exploit, even while proclaiming their colonies less than. I really appreciated the care that was taken to explore multiple schools of thought regarding the best way to fight oppression. None were explicitly “wrong” because both theories- Victoire and Anthony’s nonviolence and Griffin and Robin’s violence- were more than justified in the context of the book. Obviously, this mirrors real life. As someone who talks politics in leftist circles, I hear both ideas come up. Do we disobey quietly, lobby our politicians, and wait for slow incremental change? Or do we fight, scream, burn, demand to be seen as human? There’s no right answer, but I think the fictional environment of Babel is a good outlet to explore these questions, and Kaung does it expertly.

Ok, now that my academic, poli-sci major baggage has been laid out, I’m gonna get a bit sappy. This book WRECKED me. I cried. So. Much. In the style of a Shakespearean tragedy, just about every single character that you fall in love with through the first three hundred pages of this book will be taken away from you. (Spoiler time!) I want to write about Ramy’s death specifically. Just as Robin and Letty fall in love with him at the first hello, so did I. Ramy was a character that simply shone so brightly that it reached far off the page. Kind, passionate, brilliant. OF COURSE two of the three people around him were madly in love. Letty’s betrayal (especially Shakespearean) and her goddamn revolver took Ramy from us, and in the midst of my reading I felt like the world was ending. Even worse, the most emotional moments come dozens of pages later. Robin and Ramy clearly loved each other. It was perhaps unrealistic to believe that they could have a happily ever after in 1840, but I thought at least they would get to be honest with each other about how they felt. Instead, Robin is left alone to grieve, to wonder how Letty, who “loved him almost as Robin loved him”, could take away the person who defined his world. Kuang invokes Ramy’s name almost like prayer. Robin turns to it in his time of most need. It hurts, like, reaaaallly hurts. I’ll think of them every time i see a sunset now.

Last thoughts. This book is nothing if not a five star read. It’s somehow a love story, a dark academia fantasy, a Newsies-style tale of the underdog, and more. It’s a found family that could never last. I can safely say that it’s one of the best things I’ve ever read, despite how much pain it caused me. There’s so much more I could’ve said, but I’ll leave it here.

READ THIS BOOK!!