#I think part of it is that what JW are known for in the US is very different than in Japan?

[troius]

You’re welcome. I’m glad that hear all that. Also I feel like yhwach is a fave villain of mine. Which I feel is an unpopular conscientious.

also I still wonder, where in yhwach is the b sound. As in dub and Jpn I hear the Bach when he’s referred to by name.

Oh, I can actually answer this one!

Yhwach canonically was named after the God his people worshiped, which considering his name and the general Quincy aesthetic pretty much has to be the Judeo-Christian God.

Now, the funny thing about God is that there's a reason He's called God, and it stems from an ancient Jewish taboo on using God's true name. Perhaps as a part of an effort to identify God as the one true God, when surrounding religions had many. Nonetheless, God has a name, which is generally given in the Hebrew Bible as יהוה, or YHWH.

You'll notice there are no vowels there. That's because Biblical Hebrew doesn't have any consistent method for indicating vowels, and while later versions of the Hebrew Bible did include vowels, the taboo on saying the name out loud meant that rather than write in the vowels, the transcribers (often rabbis) would instruct the reader to instead say "Adonai", or "my Lord", which is why in English bibles you will often see the small-caps LORD in its place.

Modern scholars, drawing from a variety of extrabiblical sources, tend to think that YHWH was pronounced "Yahweh". But medieval scholars, not having those sources, resorted to using the vowels of "Adonai" as their pronunciation guide. They also pronounced the "י" more like a Latin "J", and the "ו" more like a Latin "V", with the result being that during the Reformation, the name "Jehovah" was used to translate YHWH as the Bible came into the common vernacular.

It's fallen out of favor in recent years, as the scholarly consensus has coalesced around "Yahweh", and most Bibles will simply dodge the issue and use LORD. But you still see it around, most commonly in the name of Jehovah's Witnesses, a Christian group which 1) aggressively evangelizes across the world; 2) refuses to recognize any worldly authority without the kingdom of heaven, and 3) believe in the imminent unification of heaven with earth and the transformation of the world into a paradise without death.

Jehovah's Witnesses actually have a fairly strong presence in Japan, with 214,000 members that came under increased scrutiny fairly recently. Anyways, "Jehovah" is spelled "エホバ", or "Ehoba" in Japanese, which is where the B comes from (Japanese not having a native "v" sound).

[buhok-ng-bruha]

Uh oh! A Jehovah’s Witness is at my door!

A guide on what the fuck is happening and what to do about it as a never JW, from an exJW.

JW congregations have just been told to start doing door-to-door preaching (aka ‘service’/‘service work’/‘witnessing’) again this September. They stopped for the past few years due to…well. The whole state of things. But it’s starting again! Fuck!

So, to get you folks in on the Secret Inner-workings of a Cult:

JWs do service work mostly on Saturdays and Sundays, but any day of the week is fair game, just less of them will be out on other days. Generally it’ll be in the mornings (anywhere between 9AM to 1PM being common, my family did 10AM to noon Saturdays), but any time of day is also fair game. Evening witnessing is encouraged, to catch parts of the service area who didn’t answer during morning service, like people who were at work or asleep.

JWs are given ‘territories’: entire neighborhoods if they’re a majority language and can generally bet on most of the people in a given area speaking that language; SPECIFIC ADDRESSES if they belong to a smaller language demographic. These are on ‘territory cards’, which include areas to fill out once they’ve called on houses. They often pull addresses from the phone book or other such directory, pulling based on name, or get referred new addresses from neighborhood sweeps in other congregations and were told x language was being spoken, so if you get called on by someone speaking your language and wonder how they got your address, it’s because they’ve collected data already! On You!

On that note: JWs collect data on you! A lot of it!! Those territory cards they fill out? They can include any information they gleaned from conversation (age? gender? personal details like if you’re married, if you live with your parents, etc? what religion do you belong to? any problems in your life they can ‘help’ with? any ‘problematic’ details, like if you’re queer? all of it.); if someone was home or not (yes we can see you peeking out from behind your curtains! we looked in windows!); if the person answering the door was uninterested; if they were aggressive; if they have dogs; if we were able to leave any publications with them; the details of any conversations we had, like which topics we discussed and which seemed to interest you the most; when to call on you again. The areas to fill this in on these cards are rather small so they usually only write down the most important information, but it is the most important information for trying to indoctrinate you into a cult. DO NOT give them any personal information. It will be used against you.

So that’s the gist of it. Now, you don’t want them at your door, probably.

Please do not harass them.

I know they’re annoying. We always knew we were being annoying. They do it anyways because they think they’re helping you. They often have children with them - not only because it’s often families going preaching together, but also because it’s a well known tactic to get a softer response from people they call on, to have a child with you. Even if there are no children, please do not harass JWs - they are cult victims, and doing so will only enforce their ‘us vs them’ mentality, and discourages members from leaving. The outside world hates you so much, so how can you leave?

“But what if—“ Nope! Beyond the whole ‘don’t be fucking cruel to abuse victims’ thing, it doesn’t even work! I’ve been threatened with dogs; my mother has been threatened with machetes; others have been flashed, or physically assaulted - we still went back eventually. Usually someone else would get the assignment, and usually we’d wait a bit, but we still went back.

“Okay, but what the fuck do I do, then?”

You open the door (yes, open the door; if you ignore them they’ll return again, assuming they just missed you or you were busy), let them tell you what they’re there for, and before the conversation goes further, you simply say:

“I’m not interested. Please put me on your do not call list.”

And then you tell them goodbye. Nothing more. Don’t say you have your own religion. Don’t say you’re queer. Don’t try to use the ‘magic word’ apostate - actual former members can get harassed.

Unfortunately, despite this being the most successful and least harmful strategy, it isn’t 100% foolproof. They’re supposed to write ‘do not call’ on the territory card next to your address, but they’re human and forget sometimes (or might not mark it intentionally, though I haven’t seen that personally); the next person who gets that card might not see the mark, as well. On top of everything else, even if not forgotten, they will eventually come back. It’s policy to come by after some time to check on you, ‘just in case’: just in case you changed your mind, just in case you moved and there’s someone else there now, just in case, oh, you recently had a loved one pass away and suddenly find yourself in an emotionally vulnerable position in need of support and sympathy.

If you have the knowledge and mental/emotional energy and stability to, you can go about trying to debate them, maybe help some of them doubt, but it is no easy task and there is no guarantee of any success. It takes a lot of patience. They are undergoing some extreme brainwashing and ‘waking up’ is incredibly traumatizing, and you will face a lot of resistance in trying to deconvert any of them. Again, only attempt this if you have the energy, stability, and knowledge required - the delicacy required, too. Otherwise, remember, it’s

“I’m not interested. Please put me on your do not call list.”

Nothing more.

[inkonice-main]

A maybe not so well known but still good story, The Man With a Twisted Lip, part 1, let's go!

Oh oh oh I know we don't get a lot of Mary Watson in the stories, so I treasure the bits when we do. She's such a sweetheart, and the way Watson describes her makes me melt. It seems Watson is attracted to lighthouse-like people, for who else does this description resemble?

Fun (or not so fun) trivia. This last line is part of what Baring Gould uses to justify his headcanon that this is not Mary but a first wife, because he (and some other sherlockian) didn't think it applied to the mild-mannered Mary. Jerkish!

Ah, the infamous "James". I am going to ignore the embarrasing fact that ACD just forgot his narrator's christian name, and follow the watsonian hc I heard from someone that JW was just trying out a nickname which he discarded later.

Oof this is such a pitiful convo, I think ACD does a good depiction of drug addiction here. It's just sad to witness. I know Holmes is not at this level but since I recently re-read SIGN, this bit hit a bit differently after that.

But isn’t this a hell of an introduction? I knew it was Holmes and still I could feel the tension coiling in W's body at being startled like this.

This part had me thinking about why a chronicler would be more of use than a trusty comrade, then I thought about the fact that Watson must have an excellent memory and he's constantly taking notes so Holmes can always fact-check with him.

Btw, rn in the UK a "double-bedded" room means a room with one bed big enough for two. Idk if it meant the same in 19th century but it also wouldn't surprise me (I don't think it'd surprise anyone)

This is just such a sweet thing to say. "Watson you're a gift when you're quiet and a gift when you speak." As someone mentioned, I really like the post-marriage stories for the encounters like this where they're both so excited about being back together and H is trying so hard fgnfg

It's incredibly ironic that THAT line was used by the Conan Doyle state in the case against Enola Holmes to justify their thesis that Holmes doesn't show emotions. They just took the part where he says he apreccites W's silences and completely ignore the next bit.

I think this is the biggest tease we've had so far! I laughed out loud at being left at the part where Holmes is about to finally explain.

[crissiebaby]

The Perfect Match, Pt. 2

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, babyfication, humiliation, domination, SPH, masturbation/diaper sex, anal play, and other ABDL themes. This part also includes a non-con scene with a strap-on. Reader discretion is advised. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: Anon PART 1

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“I think I get everything you’re saying but would you mind going into a bit more detail about how this “random” match is supposed to happen,” said Mother Elma, raising her extra large Americano to her lips. As a professional diaper dominatrix, she’d had her fair share of clients ask for help administering some good, old-fashioned humiliation. However, it had been a while since she’d had someone with more pie-in-the-sky ideas than these two knuckleheads, “I’m all for the element of surprise but isn’t this leaving a little too much to chance.”

Narrowing her gaze, Hannah blew on the steaming liquid in her coffee before taking the most delicate of sips. As JW’s most recent girlfriend of just under four months, she had put up with him mooching off her high-paying job while giving nothing in return, especially in the bedroom. As someone with a considerably high sex drive, she’d hoped for a lot more from a partner, never even getting close to rounding third base, let alone making it home. While most would consider this a reason to break up and nothing more, the fact that she had been open with him from the start that she was looking for a sexual partner to explore new horizons together only for him to end up chickening out at every turn was a slight she couldn’t overlook. He even attempted to use religion to justify his abstinence, yet never once set foot in a church while they dated. “Trust me, if anyone knows J-Dubs, it’s me. The number of times I caught him scrolling through that app to look at girls was beyond me; some “good Christian” he is. If we tailor your profile to meet his lofty preference, there’s no way that limp dicked little dweeb won’t swipe right,” she said, matching Elma’s confidence in both posture and tone.

“Hehehe, speakin’ of limp dick, were you ever privileged enough to catch a glimpse of his lil’ shooter,’' said the final member of this round table, Kaley, prompting Hannah to giggle alongside her in large part due to her adorable southern accent, “It looks like a deformed acorn. And I’ll reckon he boasted about his cock size whenever he got the chance.”

Unlike Hannah, who had only known JW throughout the duration of their relationship, Kaley had been friends with JW since the two of them were thirteen. They upgraded their relationship to dating during their high school careers before finally ending it during their junior year of college. Throughout that time, she knew JW to be an incredibly flirty person, which was adorable at the best of times but horribly frustrating at the worst. He delighted in pulling pranks on her whenever he could, like hiding her clothes when she was showering or wedgying her whenever her panties were even slightly exposed. The most damning thing of all, though, were the times when he felt it was acceptable to pants her in public.

These two girls, angry and scorned by a past lover, happened to luck into meeting each other at a bar not long after Hannah had finally dumped her JW. As Hannah complained about the fallout of her most recent relationship, Kaley couldn’t help but notice how similar their stories were. Turns out, it was a small world, after all. They chatted for hours about JW’s shortcomings as a partner and lover, and it was only after several hours of binge drinking that Hannah came up with the greatest drunk idea she’d ever had, “What if we didn’t let him get away with it? What if…we had ourselves a little revenge…”

“Hehehe, I think *HICCUP!* that’s a wonderful idea,” said Kaley, raising her nearly empty glass and clinking it against Hannah’s to signify the birth of their partnership. After sobering up the enraged duo spent multiple hours scouring the internet until they happened upon the homepage of Mother Elma, who boasted a 100% success rate of forcing her clients, both willing and unwilling, to submit. Several fateful emails later and the three ladies were finally meeting to set this revenge scheme into motion.

“If we can get him to wet his pants, then we can have him diapered before we even show up. He’s such a chicken shit that he’ll let you do this to him without much fuss,” said Hannah, who had been eagerly listing her evil ideas on a notepad hours before this meeting even began, “No doubt, Dubs will be wearing his favorite tighty whities when he shows up. Seriously, I don’t know why he doesn’t switch to boxer briefs if he’s so self-conscious about his underwear.”

Hannah’s side comment about JW’s choice of undies nearly caused Kaley to choke on her vanilla latte in excitement. “Oh! Speaking of his delicates, you gotta make sure to pants him. Put his precious tighty whities on full display,” she said, letting her past trauma guide her creativity,  I don’t just want him to wet himself, either. I want his underwear ripped off entirely. Wedgie him until the fabric snaps.”

“My, my, girls! One blushy idea at a time, please,” said Elma, unable to remove the smile from her face over how much she was enjoying watching Hannah and Kaley air out their most depraved revenge concepts. Still, as much as she wanted to be the “cool mom,” she also had to be the one turning their words into reality, “The wedgie and pantsing are possible, though I can’t guarantee he won’t try to bolt out of the house naked if I lay into him this hard. So I’ll need both of you waiting at the door to play defense, just in case. As for the wetting, it should be easy to slip something into his drink when he arrives. I do like to pride myself on never letting a sub go without pissing their diaper. Also, I think it would also be best if he was in my homemade bouncer when you two enter. I’ve had babies lash out and try to physically assault clients before, so it’s in everyone’s best interest if he’s restrained.

Scoffing, Hannah shook her head passively, letting her beach blonde hair glimmer in the light as the strands shifted across her forehead. “If you insist, I certainly won’t mind seeing him in a bouncer. It won’t be necessary, though. He doesn’t have the balls to fight back like that,” she said cockily, “And one last thing. If his dick really is as small as Kaley says, then don’t hold back. I want you to ridicule his pathetic excuse for manhood until he’s a blubbering mess.

“Oh, I can definitely make that happen,” said Elma raising her cup and bumping glasses with her latest cohorts as she officially joined the team.

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*SNAP!*

“You look adorable, Baby Dubs! Go on! Give your Mommies a big smile now,” cooed Hannah in the most over-the-top motherly voice that she could produce as she took picture after picture with her phone. To her surprise, JW had turned out even better than she had imagined. Even when the revenge plot was moving out of the conceptual stage, it was difficult to picture any past boyfriend or girlfriend of hers completely babified. Seeing JW now, it was amazing that she ever thought of him as an equal adult.

Rounding JW’s backside, Kaley captured a few up-close shots of his fluffy diaper, which was bulging out of the bouncer in such a way that made it impossible to hide even if he could lower his hands to block her. Letting lose a maniacal chuckle, she grabbed onto the sides of his bouncer and lifted him up. “This is darn near perfect! I may be a hair weak to atomic wedgie you myself but this is an alternative,” she said, feeling a cathartic sense of justice for any girl whose boyfriend felt it was okay to turn his girlfriend’s panties into a public display.

“Happy to see you girls are having fun. I made some snacks so you can keep your energy up,” said Elma, returning to the room with a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies and a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade. Hannah and Kaley each rushed over to grab a cookie while they were still hot and gooey, while Elma walked up to JW to get a better look at him, shaking her head somewhat sympathetically, “Sorry, Junior. I promise it’s nothing personal…well, for me anyway.” She pinched his cheek and ruffled his hair teasingly.

Groaning from the other side of his pacifier, which had been lovingly strapped to his head after previously falling from his lips, JW was in a kind of hell that seldom few cisgender men would ever experience. His eyes darted from woman to woman, looking for any sign of remorse or apprehension to appeal to. Sadly, the three ladies casually munched on cookies without a care in the world, taking great joy in his punishment. If he managed to make it back home with his manhood intact, he promised himself to never use Bumblr or any other dating app ever again once he got out of this mess.

“Well, girls. I think it’s time to let JW better understand your frustrations,” said Elma, crossing to the far wall of the nursery and reaching up high to grab a large wooden paddle off of its mount. The face of the paddle was bright pink with white hearts carved into the wood to add a little extra sting to each hit. JW’s groans fell silent as he watched Elma hand the paddle off to Hannah, his eyes growing wider with every step she took in his direction.

Twirling the paddle in her hands, Hannah took a few practice swings, letting JW get a good look at the form and power she’d soon be using on him. Moving behind her target, she got in close to JW’s ear and whispered her expectations, “Alright, here’s the deal, Dubs. I’m gonna paddle you, long and hard, either until my arms give out, or you admit that your whole religion excuse was bullshit. Oh, also that the only reason you didn’t want to fuck me was out of fear that I’d call out your baby carrot of a cock,” she said, sending shivers down JW’s spine as her breath tickled the hairs on his neck.

“W-Waid! I shwear to Chwist I wasn lyin!” shouted JW, his words garbled by the bulb of his pacifier. Of course, Hannah was right. He wasn’t religious and never had been. That didn’t mean he wanted to confess to lying about something so heinous. He squeezed his eyes closed and braced himself for the first hit, his legs quivering like a frightened toddler.

Shaking her head once more, this time at JW’s lack of contrition, Hannah backed up and raised the paddle into batting position. Her years of playing softball in high school would not be for nothing. “Swear to Christ, Goddess, or whoever you want to. For some reason, I don’t think anyone’s listening to you,” she said, punctuating her sentence with her first big *SMACK!*

JW squealed behind his pacifier, his body writhing within the bouncer helplessly as the pain from his first spanking recoiled across his entire ass. From there, it was all over but the crying.

*SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!*

Each hit that graced JW’s ass just seemed to hurt more than the last. At first, the padding provided at least a slight barrier but after several endless minutes of relentless spanking, he might as well have been naked. He tugged on his wrist restraints with all his strength, hoping to somehow free himself up enough to stand up to Hannah. Unfortunately, Mother Elma’s equipment was too well constructed for a miracle like that to happen. Eventually, his will to uphold his lies shattered into pieces, causing him to beg for a morsel of forgiveness, 

“S-SHTAWP, PWEASH!!! I…I-I’M NOT WEWIGIOUS!!!”

Halting herself mid-swing, Hannah swarmed in close to JW again, this time plucking the binky from his mouth so that it was draped around his neck. “What was that, Subby Dubby?” she said, placing a hand on his forehead to keep his neck from slumping.

“I…lied to you. I’m n-not religious and I never have been,” said JW, avoiding Hannah’s intense eye contact as he spoke, “I was j-just scared you’d leave if you saw how small I was. I’m so, so sorry. If you let me go, I promise, I’ll never tell anyone about this.

Breaking her stoic expression with a satisfied smirk, Hannah tenderly rubbed the back of JW’s hair before gripping it tightly. “There, was that so hard?” she said, relishing in self-righteousness after scoring a confession, “As for your request, I’m afraid I have to deny it. You see, I’m not the only one paying to keep you this way.” With a not-so-subtle wink, she turned away from JW and handed off the paddle to Kaley.

Thanks to her naturally athletic build, Kaley was ready to level any even harsh paddling that Hannah was able to conjure up. “Twelve years of rodeo camp, don’t fail me now,” she said, making an even bigger show of flipping the paddle than Hannah did. She approached JW and lifted his chin up with the paddle, getting good luck at his tearful expression, “Now listen here, unlike Hannah, I ain’t got nothin’ for you to confess to but I do have eight good reasons to serve up your keister on a silver platter. So why don’t you be a good, little sweet pea and count for me.”

“K-Kaley, please! I can’t even think of one reason for you to do this, let alone eight!” shouted JW in response, prompting Kaley to lift his paci-gag back into place.

Stepping back and gearing up for her first hit, Kaley responded, “Now, that's a load of cattywampus and we both know it! Now start counting, sugar, or I’ll have to start over.”

*SMACK!*

Kaley’s first strike was so intense that JW unwittingly let out the tiniest stream of urine. For him, it was the most pain he had ever felt. Not wanting to add any additional spanks to Kaley’s count, begrudgingly mumbled, “O-One.” Somehow, the injury to his pride over saying a single number was far worse than any individual thwack.

This process repeated itself seven more times, with Kaley adding a little more sauce to each subsequent hit, using the full extent of her muscles only on the final blow. If JW was a trembling mess before, he certainly was now. Returning to face him again, she crouched down so she could look into JW’s eyes with her own dark brown ones, wanting to make sure he heard every word she said, “Eight. That’s the number of times you yanked my pants down in public. But don’t fret, honey, I forgive you now.”

“S-Sho chu wiww…w-wet me go?” stuttered JW, his words barely audible thanks to his binky. Surely, now that the girls had collected their pound of flesh, they would be satisfied.

Sadly, revenge was a ravenous hunger that was hard to control. And now that Hannah and Kaley had their first taste, they were starving for more.

Waving Kaley and Elma over to her, Hannah whispered her next genius plot away from prying ears. As the girl broke away from their huddle, Hannah marched over to JW and lightly slapped him on the cheek to get his full attention. “Stay with me now, Dubby. The worst is over. We’re all just friends hanging out now,” she said, running her finger down the length of one of the bouncer’s elastic straps as she spoke, “And since we’re such good friends, you’ll be more than happy to do Kaley and me a favor. You see, Mother Elma’s services are no small expense, and we want to feel like we got our money’s worth. So, if you agree to do some fun poses dressed up like the precious darling that you are, we promise to let you go. We also swear that these photos won’t end up online and in your boss’s inbox so long as you play nice.”

To someone who didn’t know Hannah, this may have sounded like she was willing to let JW off easy for the ridiculous amount of resources it took to get him here. Tragically, JW did, in fact, know Hannah, giving him a first-hand understanding of how her brain works. This wasn’t an offer, it was a thinly veiled threat that told him his choices were to play along or else his life would be ruined forever. Having no other option, he nodded his head in agreement, accepting Hannah’s terms under duress.

What followed was a barrage of babying that would make even the most willing of babies a blushy mess as the three women turned Elma’s nursery into a photography studio. They had him climbing all over the crib and pretending to lay down for a change before dragging him into the playpen to play with every toy from Elma’s toybox. And that wasn’t even the most dreadful part as when they got bored of that, Kaley had the brilliant idea to play a little dress-up forcing a wide variety of humiliatingly infantile outfits on him, from coveralls and giant bibs to playsuits and even, shamefully, a small selection of sissy dresses. As a cherry on top, when the girls stripped him of his final outfit, they decided to leave him naked except for the diaper, insisting they get some shots of him and his exposed padding.

“Let’s get a few in the storytime nook over there! We can get you snuggling up to all those fuzzy stuffies,” said Hannah, prompting Elma to lead JW to the large pile of stuffed animals before pushing him into it, “Don’t be shy, Dubs! I’m sure they’d all love a kiss from their baby brother! Oh, and be sure to smile this time.”

Forcing his mouth into a grimace, JW was becoming exhausted with the sheer number of requests the girls had for him. Moreover, his bladder was becoming exhausted from being held for so long. It had been well over two hours since he’d arrived at Elma’s place for their date and in that time, he’d already had one mortifying accident. To soil his diaper now would be a form of rock bottom that he wasn’t certain he’d ever recover from. Still, as much as he needed to go, it wasn’t as though he could ask Hannah or the others for a bathroom break. If they found out how sharp the pain in his bladder was becoming, they surely torture him until he flooded his diaper.

Unfortunately, JW didn’t need to say anything as his body said all that it needed to. As she crouched down to snap a low-angle picture, Kaley couldn’t help but notice that ever so subtle potty dance that he was performing, bouncing up and down as knelt amongst the plushies. She instantly got up to tell Hannah, whose thoughts were set ablaze with ways to capitalize on this urgent piece of information.

“Okay, J-Dubs. We’re at the home stretch. Kaley and I just want to do one more brief shoot with you squatting over the squatty potty,” said Hannah, grabbing the plastic basin from under the crib and setting it in the center of the nursery, “I promise this will be the last one. And since you’ve proven you can stay dry without any more accidents, we’ll even send you home in your own clothes. Elma was kind enough to wash them for you while we played.”

Unaware of any final plots against him, JW got to his feet with a reinvigorated feeling of hope. This was it. All he had to do was tough it out for a few more photos and he would be done. Stepping over the potty, she lowered himself into a squat, gritting his teeth as his stance put additional strain on his bladder. Luckily, it was nothing years of potty training couldn’t manage. 

While JW celebrated an early victory in his head, Mother Elma’s mind was racing over the potential loss she had on her hands. How dare Hannah and Kaley cut their session early. After being paid for an entire 24 hours, she was comfortable taking it slow and letting the girls drive the session as they saw fit. However, if she had known there was such a limited timetable, she would’ve ensured his diaper was soaked long before now. She had a reputation to uphold, after all, and while JW had drenched his jeans, his diaper was still practically bone dry.

With little time to spare, Elma decided to take matters into her own hands. Taking the half-empty pitcher of lemonade, she circled JW and snuck up behind him. Deciding to maintain the element of surprise, she pulled open the back of his diaper and dumped the yellow liquid inside.

JW gasped as though his soul had been cast from his body before collapsing onto the squatty potty, a tidal wave of lemonade and ice splashing throughout his nappy. The rush of cold fluid shocked his senses into submission, freezing and shattering whatever hold he had on his potty training. Before he even had time to take stock of what was going on, the damp, chilly diaper he was seated in began to grow warmer.

“HAHAHAHA…oh…oh my…” said Hannah, watching the front of JW’s diaper closely as the light yellow coloring of the lemonade began to take on a much darker shade, “Guess our Subby Dubby couldn’t keep his diaper dry like a big boy, after all.” Having boasted about her perfect record over coffee, she knew she could get Elma to do something bold if she made it seem like JW would get away clean. Of course, she and Kaley never intended to let that happen, regardless if Elma reacted or not.

Realizing what was happening, JW’s hands shot downward, pressing up against the front of his diaper as if he could physically stop his body from peeing. In reality, the sudden cold spell that Elma had cast on him had rendered his bladder completely ineffective, resulting in him unleashing every last drop of pee inside him. By the time his bladder was finally empty, his diaper had nearly doubled in size and was sagging all the way to his knees.

“Aw shucks, the poor thing is shaking like a dog,” said Kaley, moving in to comfort her shivering Little, “Shhh, shhh. It’s okay now, lil’ darlin’. We’ll getcha changed lickity split.” She lifted him off of the potty and laid him down flat on the floor while Hannah and Elma moved in with a fresh diaper and all the changing equipment they would need.

Babbling uncontrollably, JW’s fragile brain was failing to wrap itself around the chaos that was ensnaring him. He was so close to all of this being over. With the wheels in motion for an impromptu diaper change, he feared that his window to get out of this mess early was closing fast. Hannah and Kaley pinned his arms to his sides as Elma centered up in front of his diaper, carefully peeling up the tapes of his sodden diaper one at a time.

“Time to show Mommy what you made for her,” said Elma, opening up JW’s puffy padding to reveal his unimpressive penis. Despite the fact that two of the three women present had seen his dick before, all three women’s jaws dropped as they gazed upon JW’s shrunken peen. It was practically a micropenis, having regressed thanks to the spine-chilling lemonade bath he’d been given.

Reaching in and holding up her pinky next to JW’s miniature member, Hannah was too stunned to laugh, witnessing in real time as her small digit eclipsed his cock. “Goddess damn! For fuck sake, Kaley, when you told me it looked like an acorn, I didn’t think you meant it was literally the size of an acorn!” she shouted, heaping a metric ton of humiliation onto JW in the midst of her amusement.

“Right hand to Goddess, I swear it was bigger than this. Is he going through that reverse puberty crap or somethin’?” responded Kaley, poking JW’s thingy with her index finger and watching in amazement as it recoiled much like a sea cucumber would.

Even JW was in awe over impossibly small he was as he craned his neck up to see what the fuss was all about. In an instant, all the blood pooled on his face as his cheeks burned scarlet red. He tried to cover his face with his hands but found that the girls had a solid grip on him despite only using one arm apiece.

While JW and his evil exes fawned over his one-inch vertical, Elma used the distraction to briefly slip away. If she was going to get JW to stay here until his 24 hours were up, she’d need to make sure he was too weak to walk out of here. Retrieving her ten-inch strap-on from her storage closet, she returned to the nursery with the long, silicon phallus jiggling back and forth. “Mind if I cut in ladies? Junior looks way too tantalizing like this and I’d be more than happy to rid him of his pesky virginity for you. Rectally, of course,” she said, taking a bottle of lube and squirting a healthy dose up and down her big, black beauty.

Backing away from JW’s pelvic region while keeping his arms pinned, the girls couldn’t believe what they were about to have front-row seats to. In the myriad of kinky possibilities that they had debated over, never once did either Hannah or Kaley imagine he’d be losing his virginity in any shape or form. It was almost too perfect.

“Yeehaw, cowgirl! Ride him until he begs for it,” said Kaley, her only regret was that she wasn’t the one getting to take JW’s cherry herself, though that was small potatoes considering what she was about to have the privilege of watching.

“Yeah, fuck him until he loves it!” said Hannah without a single bit of mercy in her heart. JW had wasted four months of life that she could’ve used toward a real man, and now he was gonna get exactly what he had coming to him.

Earning the approval of the women funding this expedition, Elma knelt down in front of JW and placed a pillow under his butt to ensure his hips were properly raised. She made sure to keep his wet diaper under his butt so he could feel the padding squish with every thrust. With her fingers coated in lubricant, she bullied his legs apart and began priming his asshole, coating the outer rim with her thumbs before sliding one finger to initiate him. After one finger was loose enough, she moved to two and then three, until his exit was wide enough to enter through.

All the while, JW's mouth moved as though he were going to scream but not a single sound came out. With all the stress his body had already been put under, he lacked the strength to even speak, much less try to get away before his anal became a double-wide parking garage. To his shame, the amount of time Elma spent prepping his rear had stirred up his prostate, something fierce, causing his cock to grow ever so slightly.

“I think someone is enjoying the attention,” said Elma, giggling as JW’s body responded exactly how she wanted it to. With his butthole ready to go, she inched forward, pressing the tip of her strap-on against his colon, “Any last words, Junior?”

With a horrified expression growing on his face, JW squeaked out the tiniest, “Pwease don,” too weak and helpless to mutter out anything more. His words fell on deaf ears, though, as Elma’s faux manhood pierced through his boy pussy, coming to a stop halfway as his hole became too tight to move any further without causing injury. His tongue fell from his mouth and he let out a painfully erotic moan, much to his chagrin. 

“Uh oh! Bear with me. This might take a sec,” said Elma, her casually flippant tone betraying her comforting words. Wiggling her hips back and forth, she slowly opened JW up, pushing far past his prostate in the process until the base of her strap-on was finally mashed against his pelvis.

Flexing every muscle in his body, there was no amount of bracing for impact that would’ve prepared JW for the monster that was moving inside him. At some point, amidst his silent screaming, his voice returned, becoming audible mid-scream. It was like he was being stabbed with a knife that was constantly being twisted. And yet, in spite of the overwhelming pain he was experiencing, his pecker refused to cooperate, extending another half-centimeter as his aching prostate threatened to force every ounce of jizz out of him.

“Oh my! Don’t go making cummies so soon! Mommy’s just getting into a rhythm,” said Elma, the dildo of her strap-on finding it much easier to thrust in and out of JW’s booty now that it was adequately expanded. It was rare she got to use these on a client, as not many adult babies and diaper lovers enjoyed moving the fun outside of the diaper. Having the privilege to ruin the ass of someone she was being paid to dominate was just icing on the cake. 

As Elma ramped up her speed, Hannah and Kaley could only watch, fascinated and terrified by their pricy dominatrix’s prowess. The two girls exchanged glances with each other, recognizing their own feelings within each other. No amount of research on Mommy Dommes could’ve prepared them to witness something so depraved and horny.

Banging his head up and down as his asshole was banged to pieces, JW’s body convulsed, unable to resist the strenuous stimulation for a second long. Bellowing out a moan from deep in his chest, his body froze in place, tensing up whilst hurling toward an impending climax. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want ANY of this! None of that mattered anymore, though. He was well on his way to becoming nothing more than a baby doll now, designed to cum on command whenever his female overlords desired.

*SQUIRT! SQUIRT! SQUIRT!*

“Ooof! You’re cumming already?! But we’re just getting started!” said Elma, hammering her sex toy into JW’s rear with added vigor as he experienced the highest of highs. She patted him on the chest as she continued to pound his butt into the ground, showing no signs of slowing down, “Go ahead and wave bye-bye to your anal virginity. It’s mine forever now, and there’s nothing you can do to get it back.”

Flopping to the floor like a soggy noodle, JW’s entire body went limp. That didn’t mean he couldn’t feel what was happening to him. Far from it actually. It was just that he had nothing left in the tank to give. He may as well have been a sex doll to Elma at this point. The only part of his body he could move were his eyes, which wandered around the room until homing in on Hannah and Kaley’s faces, each of them wearing impish expressions.

“See, I told you having sex would rock your world,” said Hannah, running her fingers through JW’s hair before leaning down and planting a kiss on his forehead, “Looks like we’re all going to be spending the night here. There’s no way you’re in any condition to leave now.”

Copying Hannah’s actions, Kaley kissed his cheek, her ruby red lipstick imprinting on his skin. “We’re gonna have a real fun time tonight! It’ll be just like a sleepover! Just watch out, cuz I just might give you a diaper wedgie if you’re not careful,” she said, clapping her hands together excitedly.

Sipping shallow breaths through his teeth, JW felt the sands of his adulthood finally slip through his fingers entirely. In the back of his mind, all he would do was agonize over how he let this happen to him. Worse than anything was how much his body seemed to crave what was happening to him against his will. Every spurt of jizz that shot out of his body was a shameful reminder of his new status for the foreseeable future. Letting his eyes shutter closed, he began to blackout from the overpowering euphoria that was coursing through his body as his three new Mommies ushered him into a brand-new, far more gratifying life.

THE END.

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Edited by AllySmolShork

[jemmo]

☕️ My personal feeling is that SW just simply didn't like anyone enough to actually seriously try to date them. I don't think his feelings for SH were not genuine, as I've seen floating around, but I just kind of getting the feeling he didn't like anyone on the show enough to seriously consider getting into a relationship with them. Yes, he repetitively says SH is special (and we do not know what else was said that was cut so there could be missing information). But that phrasing is very different from "I would like to date you in a serious relationship". Unlike JW, who is interested in someone who doesn't reciprocate, SW is basically someone who multiple people wanted to date, but who he didn't really want to.

I actually think I agree a lot of this anon, and I think most of what has made seonwoo such a complicated person to follow through this show is that he has received so much attention and just not known how to handle it, which shocks me bc the person he is, being both very attractive and very warm and chatty and extroverted, I wouldn’t expect receiving attention like this to be new to him. which makes me wonder, what with only coming out recently, is he just not used to receiving this attention from men, and that’s why he doesn’t know how to handle it?? it’s very different from say someone like minsung who has said he isn’t used to having multiple people like him and the experience is new and difficult for him. and it would follow through then bc normally that attention is very easy to turn down bc he isn’t interested, but all this interest from men, when this is what you’re open to, that’s why you’re here, it makes you think, makes you not want to turn it down so easily even if there’s not a lot of attraction in return. there’s this inherent pressure that you’re on a dating show, that’s what you’re here for, to find someone, and compared to jungwook who really hasn’t received attention and as such is removed from the premise of the show not really through his choice, but through lack of interest from others and yonghee not reciprocating his feelings, it’s a lot more of a conscious choice for seonwoo to outright reject people and end the show not having formed a relationship with anyone. mr popular ending the show alone isn’t really the storyline you expect, but I do think you’re right, that there isn’t anyone in the house he likes to the extent of wanting to date them. with sungho, I think there were feelings, but he struggled to realise them and put them into action such that he missed his chance to really start anything, and along with all these explanations of timing and lack of courage when compared to junsung, I do think there is a part of it that is just the fact his feelings weren’t strong enough to put into that much action. even when he called sungho and talks about him after the fact, when I do think his feelings are stronger, I think those feelings are a lot more thankful and grateful than ‘I still like you and I want to date you’, it’s a learning experience more so than it’s a lost love. but I think coming out of this experience not having liked anyone enough to want to start a relationship is a good learning experience for him, bc it sits at odds with this people pleasing personality and makes you think ‘why am I going to all this trouble trying to make people like me, when I don’t actually like them in the first place?’. And I think it’s good for him to see that forming strong, meaningful friendships can be just as good and special than coming out with a partner, and that liking people in that way, not romantically, doesn’t have any less worth. I keep harping on about how recently he came out but it makes me wonder what kind of relationships he has in his life, friends or otherwise, and how much he’s able to surround himself by people like him. if this is one of the first times he’s really entered a bold and clearly defined queer space, there might be this pressure to be liked, to be accepted by these people bc you so badly want to be part of it, want to have a romantic experience, and realising you aren’t, and that it’s no one’s fault, you just didn’t click with anyone, it’s sad, it’s disappointing, but it’s fine. you aren’t missing out, you’ll get your chance. and the show is so much more than that.

[littleapocalypsekitten]

So, I feel like ranting a bit about something that annoys me. So, a youtuber I watch frequently for politics and interesting religion-stuff took some calls and talked about Islamophobia and some contradictory things he' said. He is an atheist youtuber, but known for tolerance and being all "I don't care if you're (moderately) religious, I want allies to go after the fanatics." At the same time, he openly wants everyone who is religious in any way to "wake up and realize that it is all false." You have no idea how condescending I find that.

First, the take on Islam. (I personally do not have much familiarity with the religion), but this guy I watch seemed to fall into the trap of seeing Islam as "especially dangerous" - (the video was titled "Islam is a problem, how to solve it") which I clicked on because it seemed... kind of out of character for him to have a video titled that. He made clear that he didn't want to see Muslims hurt but saw the religion a above-and-beyond dangerous, like a bit more than Christianity. My first thought is that he only feels that way because he was formerly a form of Christian (JW) and because he lives in a society where it predominates, so, of course, like most Americans, he's not going to see the background-radiation he lives with as nearly as "dangerous" as the foreign thing he is unfamiliar with and which get a lot of war-coverage and propaganda against it. He seems to think that Islam is mostly terroristic, has fewer moderates. Second... it's the take on other religions as an "I'll work with you, but wake up" attitude. The idea that the entire world will be a better place once everyone becomes atheist. Blah! Not with some of the jerks I've known. I truly believe that the solution to religious extremism ISN'T pushing the world toward no-religion, it's fostering and encouraging BETTER religion. Also, just a good, humble, general uncertainty on all our parts. Back when I was more religious than I am now - back when I was Evangelical rather than Progressive/Universalist in my own religion (Christian-based, although I am questioning now), I encountered a lot of people who treated me like I was stupid for believing in a God at all. I encountered people who said that if I wanted to be respected as an intelligent, full human that I needed to give up my faith. This was "the world" that I was warned about on Sundays. I saw people who wanted me to conform to the world. I saw a danger to my soul. Predictably, I dug in, and was like that for a long time. Do you know what got me to mellow out? Not "Be an atheist / be a wan deist." It was... other forms of Christianity that I'd discovered. I disliked what I felt like I "had to believe" and sought out, on my own, online generally, other ways to do Christianity. I discovered the *concept* of LGBT+ Christians, for example - that Church was wrong about being gay being inherently a rebellion against God. And not just "I'm gay but I'm chaste" people, but you know, people who scholared out some of the probably-original-words of Scripture with arguments of them being mistranslated over the centuries. The same with the concept of Hell, which I'd believed in for far too long not just because of dogma, but because of depression, low self-esteem and ideas I had about the inherent cruelty of Nature. (Yeah, I'm weird). I saw people arguing against Hell USING THE BIBLE. (Talking of original languages, and of scriptures that even in English seem to counter the eternal torture idea). The people telling me "just be atheist" scared me, pissed me off and got me backlashing. It was the "Keep your faith, but you're allowed to do it kinder" that got me, well, kinder, more open, and more questioning. And, no, it does not (nor should it) inherently lead to atheism. I've seen atheist into fostering moderate religion because they think they'll eventually "save" the religious people. And on the fundie side, that's exactly why they warn against moderate religion ("you'll lose your faith and lose your meaning.") I DEPISE the idea that both drawn up "sides" seem to think of it having a single direction. Humans are more complicated than that. From one "side" (fundie) there's a scare-tactic. From the other, they may think they are being favorable, but they are being insulting.

[builder051]

1, 39, 93, and 50 for the asks game if you please.

1. What do you crave in a psychological sense? Intimacy, passion, purpose, belonging, social interaction, etc.?

Structure, I would say. Even though it's really hard for people with challenges like autism (me), ADHD (DD), and the same/similar diagnoses (big kid, one of the roomies, etc)--don't want to tell a lot of personal info--predictability is important. It can be small stuff, like choosing clothes to wear tomorrow as part of tonight's bedtime routine. Doing proctored art class one day a week. That kind of stuff. Without there being some semblance of order, there's this 'OMG, there are things th DO! What do I want? Is that allowed? Is that getting is someone else's way? How to politely tell the kid to please stop roughhousing with the dog under the dining room table? And all that produces is anxiety.

39. What taboo do you think should be discussed more, if any? Alternatively, do you think a topic that isn't taboo should be?

Well, I'm not sure if this is really a taboo, but because we are a highly-medical aware and medically needy group of people, but amongst our crowd (family, friends, acquaintances, random FaceBook people), as long as you are using medical-textbook terminology, pretty much nothing is off the table regarding human body/surgical/surgical instrument/disease/symptom/and person with said symptom (referenced respectfully, may they be alive or deceased). Like, for example, I had XXX procedure done, and though the surgery was smooth, the aftermath, or the way the tube was meant to be placed in the stoma, was exceedingly painful. My youngest, who is nearing preschool age/size, had a doctor who recommended XXX among a few other options for surgeries he could have in the future to help manage his care. Because we have all openly discussed my time regarding XXX, we know for sure that little guy will not be having that done to him.

And what should be taboo? This is like, insanely specific, but I used to work in an environment where there were a ton of "boomers" who did a certain job on the campus, and then there was a another section of the campus where pretty much everyone was a young Gen X or Millennial. We would pretty much only cross paths in the breakroom or at company-wide assemblies. This was during the time I was bodybuilding, and my best friend/coworker JW, who is Muslim, was observing Ramadan and subsequently taste-testing his wife's new vegan cookbook. The pair of us got so much flack for putting things in and out of the refrigerator in the breakroom, like a salad in a tupperware, while all these guys in their 50s were sitting around with, like, KFC takeout... It was atrocious. Except for some situations, like doctor-patient conversations and people needing a tube-feeding diet, don't get in people's business about what they eat. Maybe say "I made yummy banana muffins, would you like to try one?" but never make fun of someone's food. Don't compare it to animal food, or call it trash, or say it's ew disgusting. It's between a person, their own body, and those they trust to help them take care of themselves. No peanut gallery involved.

93. What are two facts about yourself that are true, but seem contradictory? Or two beliefs you have that seem unlikely to exist together?

This is so entirely nitty gritty that I think many people don't see this difference, unless the consequences of a screw-up make big waves.

So, one of the best things I have ever learned (I think it was in grad school), is that when you speak, you're communicating your viewpoint. If you ensure that's known, you're correct 100% of the time.

If you don't qualify your observation/inference/memory/idea/experience as originally yours, you will be wrong 50% of the time. Anyone can provide an equally weighted, original counter thought. If you're not prepared to accept that, then get ready to read some Wikipedia footnotes, because the only way you can get out of social I'm-better-than-you quicksand is to find original material to back up your point.

Now, that's not to say that there aren't facts. Like, the human knee is not meant to bend with the kneecap rotating backward. Demi plie in first position involves both heels remaining on the ground. Basic anatomy or basic ballet will show students these things, usually to keep them from getting hurt.

But the world is full of false facts too, and a lot of them are actually perpetuated by elementary teachers. Columbus did not sail the ocean blue in 1492. The pilgrims and "indians" didn't share Thanksgiving feast. There is no colon after the word "by" when you're stating the name of the author of a book. The best way to get out of a comma splice is, in fact, to insert a semicolon. The "Elbow Room" Schoolhouse Rock video is incorrect and highly offensive. And you can, by the way, look all of these up.

Reference books are constantly being updated. Canons in games and books and movies can change completely with the next release. It's ok if you get stuck somewhere, or if you have a hard time accepting change. It's ok if you have a hard time accepting someone else's opinion.

What I think is important, though, is to know why you feel how you feel, and know that it's shaped by your unique life experience. It's really cool to dig down to how you learned it and why it sticks in your memory, but the bottom line is, tread carefully and kindly. For everyone.

50. What qualities do you find charming?

I have no clue how they do it, but there must be something on the application for a job at Starbucks that says you must be a tall young adult male-ish presenting human with lots of rainbows and awesome hair and the friendly voice who still knows what I'm talking about when I can't remember the name of the 27-syllable latte I want to try.

Man, I miss Starbucks Sundays at actual Starbucks.

[hualianff]

Vampire/Human AU

(Slight NSFW, angst)

Thinking about vampire HC who owns a vampire-friendly bar with humans who apply as donors to supply fresh blood for vampires willing to pay the expensive prices. When a human with beautiful amber eyes, soft facial features, and blood that smells absolutely delectable, walks in, every vampire whips their heads towards the door. The human approaches one of the staff, YY, to inquire about becoming a donor. HC watches as the enticing morsel follows YY into a room to finalize his application.

Right after the human leaves thirty minutes later–YY probably having said it would take a few days to find him a match–HC pulls YY aside, demanding to have a look over the papers the new donor filled out. After a quick scan, HC shoves the papers back to YY with a click of his tongue,

“No need to find him a match. He’s mine.”

A human whose blood smells heavenly, who has never been bitten or even nipped by a vampire. HC wants to corrupt him. Ruin him.

The next night, HC has the human, XL, meet him in his personal feeding room. There’s a luxurious velvet couch to the side, a pristine glass table with fancy wine and glasses, and a king-sized bed with crimson silk laid upon the mattress.

HC, like most vampires, typically feeds while stimulating their donors. This can be done with something as simple as kissing or full-on intercourse. Not only does this relax the human’s nerves so they won’t tense up before being bitten, but the toxins injected into their system after being bitten feels incredibly euphoric, serving as a kind of aphrodisiac. Many humans donate their blood in this way for the sole reason of attaining this heightened sense of pleasure.

But as soon as XL enters the room in front of HC, his mind freezes as he sees the bed.

“I’m a virgin,” he blurts out, wide eyes panicked as he looks at the vampire. HC raises his eyebrow, unperturbed.

“We can work with that.”

XL gulps.

“I’ve also never kissed anyone.”

HC runs a tongue along his sharp fangs.

“Do you want to change that?” The vampire asks, walking up behind the human, pressing his chest against XL’s back. HC hears XL’s heart rate pick up at the proposition. It’s an unspoken yes, though XL also imperceptibly nods his head. He does not see HC’s lips spread into a vicious grin. However, XL does feel lips brush against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“Use your words, precious. Do you want to be kissed? Want to be touched, experience pleasure beyond comprehension?” HC murmurs, skimming his lips across XL’s nape. “I can fuck you too. Push into your little body as I sink my fangs into your neck. I’d place them right here-“ HC taps XL’s jugular, the human jerking to the side with a gasp. “-oh? So sensitive. All the better. I can make you feel so good.”

XL’s breath quickens, ever so slightly leaning back into HC’s tall frame. HC leans forward to catch a glimpse of those doe eyes regarding him with caution. Oh, how he wants to eat this human alive. HC turns XL around by his shoulders. He lowers his head to bump foreheads with XL, forcing the human to look into his red-tinged eyes.

“Is that a yes?”

XL blinks those doe eyes once, then twice.

“Yes.”

HC brings his hand up to brush a hair away from the human’s head.

“Wonderful.”

***

XL is at the point in his life when he lost everything. He chose to pursue a career outside of his parents’ embroidery business despite being expected to take over the shop after college. Abandoning college altogether, XL went off on his own to chase his dream to become a singer.

A few years later, where XL was provinces away from home, XL’s parents’ business had gone under, devastating them as they could no longer pay for their medical bills. Upon hearing the news, XL rushed back home to take care of them. It seemed they had kept their declining health conditions under wraps. They were too prideful to admit their weakening physical states; they also did not want to guilt XL into giving up on his ambitions to take care of them.

XL’s parents lasted one year before passing away, his father first due to prostate cancer, his mother one month later after succumbing to exhaustion and grief. XL lost their home along with the shop merely a week later, unable to pay off the debt. His parents had used up their savings for their medical expenses and XL had been scraping by as a musician for years. Additionally, there was no one he could confide in. He had lost contact with his friends as he moved from city to city, busking on streets, attempting to catch the attention of music labels.

XL was utterly alone. There were days when not even music could bring an ounce of comfort. However, music was the thing that kept him sane between the various side jobs he managed to pick up to keep him off the streets.

As if the fates decided XL had had enough bad luck for a lifetime, a CEO of a fairly well-known label offered him a business card after a busking session. It was JW of Capital Records who gave XL hope of achieving his dream. XL spent most of his late 20s under the label, training and practicing and producing. He had the chance to record a couple of singles and one mini-album–which he didn’t get to participate much in the production side–but other than that, XL didn’t make it far. He was tremendously overworked and yet, still discarded to the side.

Wondering why he wasn’t provided the opportunities other artists received to further their careers, XL scheduled a one-on-one meeting with the CEO to ask what he was lacking. JW had insisted he could give XL more opportunities if XL could offer something more than just his serene vocals and pretty face.

The unspoken suggestion that XL offer up his body pierced his heart with yet another stake. Overwhelming disappointment and betrayal crashed into XL, but perhaps he should have known better that the whole situation was too good to be true. XL vehemently rejected this idea, angering JW who eventually tore XL down to the point of a medical emergency that allowed him to leave the agency without repercussions.

At age thirty-two, XL was left with no family, mental and physical trauma, and a dying will. Ironically enough, the song lyrics he’d written after experiencing so much loss were the closest thing to making music he’d gotten. But in the end, XL still felt like a failure.

Now in Xi’an, XL was left with limited options to earn money for rent. He already worked two part-time jobs in addition to writing music—though even time set aside for this has dwindled.

One night, as XL was walking home after closing up the convenience store, he saw the neon lights of the sign “Ghost City.” He’s heard many things about this club and is no stranger to the existence of nonhuman creatures roaming amongst human society. After hours of research, XL decided to apply to become a blood donor. It’s not like he had a better option that paid more anyway.

XL’s hope to somehow redeem his past actions has all but fizzled out. He doesn’t expect a vampire like HC to care about his comfort or consent when feeding, though HC still prioritizes these things for some reason.

XL has never looked at his body and thought about the best ways to pleasure himself. HC shows him how. HC caresses and kisses XL like he’s worth being handled with care; HC also invades XL’s body as a threat to break it, broadcasting a vampire’s strength, speed, and endurance in the bedroom.

XL can go as far as to say he even looks forward to his time with HC. In between a busy work life and dealing with people who would rather look the other way than give him the time of day, XL’s mind and body steadily weaken.

It starts with memory loss, where XL can’t clearly remember the conversations he’d had the day before. One of the reasons this develops is because he goes through many days without having anyone to tell about his day. It’s like the life XL lives is so insignificant, nothing about it is worth remembering.

Then, it’s the lack of eating. Most of XL’s money goes towards rent, essentials, and groceries. But he’s not a great cook. And he’s already drained by the time he gets home after working both jobs and visiting Ghost City. XL’s stress doesn’t help, adding to the fatigue that gradually shuts his body down.

While HC might not be able to taste a difference in XL’s blood, he does notice how frail the human moves around. How delayed XL responds, more so than he should be–even as a human. XL has scheduled more visits: three times a week this time. However, his words become less. He stops telling the little stories that brought a small smile to his face. XL doesn’t even mention the songs he’s been working on lately.

HC forces himself to ask about them after an especially rough coupling.

“How’s the songwriting going, darling?” HC asks quietly. He props his elbow upon his pillow, resting his cheek on his hand as he intently observes the human struggling to catch his breath, eyelids fluttering.

“I haven’t written anything new,” XL breathily answers. HC purses his lips. He ducks down to affectionately tongue at the skin his fangs pierced.

“No? In how long?” HC asks. XL sighs heavily.

“Maybe three weeks.”

HC doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not one to console anybody. No one had afforded him that luxury, and naturally, he did not grant anyone else his concern. The silence that follows is unbearable.

***

The next time XL visits, he’s the one to initiate their first kiss. HC growls happily against his human’s lips, pinning him against the closed door of his private room. XL moans obscenely as HC languidly licks into his mouth. His arms desperately wrap around HC’s neck to bring him closer.

“Someone’s eager,” HC says with a chuckle as he pulls back. XL instantly attaches his lips to the vampire’s jaw, peppering light kisses along the pale skin. HC can’t help but think he’s taught his little human well. XL hums while trailing his lips back to HC’s, capturing them in a kiss that’s the sweetest one yet.

HC should’ve noticed how unstable XL’s legs seemed, how dreadful the bags under his eyes looked before indulging in their bedroom activities. He should’ve kept track all along of how thin XL is, how much more skin and bone he had become. HC is certainly not one to intrude on someone else’s life and scrutinize all their choices. But he should’ve said something sooner.

Maybe then, XL’s heart wouldn’t have stuttered so violently, or completely stopped beating for five counts.

HC watches in horror as XL’s eyes roll into the back of his head. His human’s body goes limp in his arms, collapsing into HC’s chest. When XL’s heart beat starts up again, it’s very weak. There’s a noticeable abnormality in its rhythm.

HC quickly gathers XL in his arms and speeds to the bed. He sits back against the pillow, placing XL to recline against his front. HC hooks his arms around XL’s middle from behind, anxiously listening to XL’s irregular heartbeat that seems like it takes all of his human’s energy to pump. Luckily, XL awakens a few minutes later. He registers a cold embrace and warm puffs of breath lingering near his ear.

“Did I pass out?” XL wheezes out, unconsciously melting into the body behind him.

“Yes,” HC says tightly. “Your heartbeat is uneven. Something is wrong.”

XL can’t tell if he’s imagining it but that sounded like worry in the vampire’s tone.

“Oh.”

HC inhales sharply.

“You just fainted, Xie Lian. Hell, your heart just stopped for a few seconds, and all you have to say is ‘oh?’” HC grinds out.

So he is upset. XL swallows thickly, not wanting to escalate things and further upset the vampire.

“It’s okay,” XL says. “I’m okay-“

“No. You’re not,” HC interrupts.

XL takes a deep breath, wincing slightly as HC tightens his arms around his hips. He’s more sensitive than normal, XL realizes. Before XL can defend himself further, HC grasps XL’s chin and turns his head to face the vampire.

“You’re hiding something from me,” he states. He hears XL’s heart speed up. “There’s no use in lying. I can tell you’ve grown weaker since you first came.”

“Well, I have been donating my blood to a certain vampire for a few months now. I’m bound to be a bit weak in my legs,” XL replies as a matter of factly. He means to poke fun at the situation rather than acknowledge the severity of it. HC knows this because he’s done it numerous times himself. But when XL does it, it makes HC’s blood boil.

“Are you saying I am causing this- this deterioration in your health?” HC asks tensely. XL lets out a gasp, whirling around in HC’s arms, immediately backpedaling.

“No! No, not at all.”

HC’s eyes assess his human who trembles slightly in his arms. He cradles XL in between his legs, hands shifting XL further up his body so he can rest his head on HC’s chest. HC gently pets XL’s hair, an action that was uncharacteristic of him months ago, before XL had walked through the entrance of his bar.

XL gently smiles in an attempt to placate the vampire.

HC’s eyes flash a frightening scarlet.

“I don’t believe you.”

XL’s face crumples.

“It’s true! I’ve just been really busy is all. Work has been hectic and- and-“ gone is the innocence that HC once saw in XL’s doe eyes, instead replaced by stress and utter brokenness that alarms the vampire to no end. A voice in the back of HC’s head snarls that those emotions had always been behind XL’s eyes; they were simply better hidden, and HC had been too lust-driven to notice.

XL continues his rambling, frantically shaking his head. “-I took some extra shifts because I needed the money to pay for some water damage that flooded half my apartment. I’m fine—truly.“

If HC had a beating heart, it would have dropped down to his stomach at the sudden realization. His fingers dig into the paper-thin skin of XL’s hips, then trace up the bony knobs of his spine.

“You’re not eating right.”

“Wait- S-san Lang-“

The nickname HC had asked XL to call him is hurdled back into his face like a stone aimed to shatter. It sounds like a cry for help.

“And you’re not getting enough sleep,” HC concludes with a disapproving frown. His eyes now glow a deep crimson, matching the silken sheets that HC ensures are in perfect condition every time XL visits.

“Fuck, XIE LIAN, you know you need proper nutrition and rest to recover from each night you spend with me!” HC is nearly shouting now, voice wavering out of his control. Who knew another creature could make him feel so strongly?

“I-I am!”

“I SAID NOT TO LIE TO ME. I CAN TELL WHEN YOU’RE NOT BEING HONEST,” HC explodes, spatting those words with a poison that he often uses with uncooperative subordinates, but never directed at XL before.

Tears glisten in XL’s eyes as he’s cornered with no way out, no relief from the building pressure that suffocates him. Right now, after everything XL has been through, this seems to be his tipping point. He never expected HC to care this much. Or perhaps HC is just concerned his reliable supply of blood is flaking out on him, just when he’s had a feasible taste.

XL is sure HC has plenty of other donors to feed on. It’s not like XL is particularly special in that way. Frankly speaking, XL had time and time again asked the universe to give him one last sign that his life mattered in some capacity. But if he couldn’t see the value in his own life, who else could?

XL scrambles off from HC’s lap, allowing himself to speak with the deep-seated spite that has grown in his heart like an untamable weed.

“THERE’S NO NEED TO GET SO WORKED UP OVER MY HEALTH!! I’LL BE GONE SOON ANYWAY! THE DOCTOR GAVE ME THREE MORE MONTHS,” XL screams, having to catch his breath after exerting so much power into his voice. “So there. You have my answer. I’m not lying this time. Just one a couple more months and then- then you won’t have to deal with my shit anymore, okay?”

HC can’t move. He can’t speak either. The shock taking over his system renders his mind and body completely useless. He can only stare blankly at XL whose tears now cascade down his cheeks.  

No, this cannot be happening-

XL’s whimpers pull HC out of his head. The human hugs his own frail body, shivering from a coldness that does not exist in the room.

How did HC let it get so bad?

“I’m sick, San Lang. Very, very sick. Not just physically,” XL whispers defeatedly, letting out a small hiccup.

HC doesn’t hesitate to surge forward to throw his arms around XL, hugging him once more. It’s a habit now—to hold XL whenever he could. Now, HC wonders how many more times he would get this chance before it was inevitably the last.

“Xie Lian…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I-I just can’t eat. Sometimes from stress, other times I completely forget. And I want to rest, but I end up laying in bed awake for hours a-and my mind just won’t let me sleep-”

For the first time in over a decade, there is someone else to hear XL’s agonized wails.

“Please believe me, San Lang. Please."

[princeasimdiya12]

"Take her...to the Lost Library."

For those that aren't familiar, the Lost Library is another reference to one of Don Rosa's Scrooge McDuck stories known as "Guardians of the Lost Library".

Its been cited by many fans as one of his best stories in regards to Scrooge McDuck adventures and how it references various historical events and figures. But I also found this tidbit to be of interest.

The first part brings to mind the Papyrus of Binding which is heavily set up to return given its importance to Scrooge and Bradford. And the mention of the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook could imply Huey using his JW knowledge to find the library and the secrets. Its also worth mentioning that the season began with the family finding the journal of Isabella Finch, one of the founders of the Junior Woodchuck Order.

But I do doubt that the library has much value to it since Bradford is using it as a prison for Gandra. If it was still in tact or with its resources, then Bradford would have used them to strengthen his goal of controlling the world already.

Those are my two cents on the subject. What do you think of all this?

[londonspirit]

Dan Levy is making his debut at the 2021 Met Gala on Monday, and while the Schitt’s Creek cocreator is excited for his first Met ball, the multihyphenate is most looking forward to people watching—this time, from the event itself.

“I’m a pretty introverted person, and I tend to avoid big parties, so this is really taking a big step out of my comfort zone,” Levy told Vanity Fair. “And I just keep saying to everybody, ‘I don’t know anyone there. Am I just going to be that person in the corner that’s just watching people and not talking to anyone?’”

“But I’ve been assured by friends of mine who have gone that it is a far more kind of celebratory safe space than the intimidating world that I have been creating in my head,” he said, before adding that he recently spoke with Met gala cohost Amanda Gorman to assuage his fears.

“I chatted a little bit with Amanda about both of our nerves being new to the game…. And we kind of said that if all else fails, we’ll just hold each other and get through it together,” the D.L. Eyewear creator said with a laugh.

While Levy may be nervous, his Schitt’s Creek character, David Rose, would be beside himself if ever presented with the opportunity to attend fashion’s biggest night.

“Absolutely nobody would want a Met gala invitation more than sweet David Rose. Just desperate for it,” Levy said.

The comedian, writer, and director—who was invited to this year’s gala by Cartier—called the invite from the luxury jeweler “an honor,” and described his experience collaborating with Loewe’s Jonathan Anderson on his custom red-carpet look as an “incredibly wonderful and fulfilling adventure.”

Inspired by the Costume Institute’s ​“In America: A Lexicon of Fashion” exhibit and the gala’s theme, Levy worked with Anderson to create a powerful ensemble that celebrates “the resilience and the love and the joy” of the LGBTQ+ community.

“I had asked Jonathan if he would be into dressing me just because…I just love his perspective on fashion and thought that he’d be a really great person to collaborate with on this,” the actor explained. “He’s so thoughtful, unexpected, and artful in his approach to what he wants to say with the clothes that he designs…. Fortunately, he said yes, and fortunately he did have some great ideas.”

As a fashion brand that has long celebrated artists, Anderson drew inspiration for Levy’s red-carpet creation from American artist and AIDS activist David Wojnarowicz, whose work confronted the systematic oppression of gays, while shedding a harsh light on the abandonment the community experienced during the peak of the AIDS crisis.

Adapting two of Wojnarowicz’s famed works, Fuck You F--got Fucker, 1984, and Untitled (One Day This Kid…), 1990–91, for Levy’s Met gala look, the actor said he and Anderson wanted to reflect the artist’s themes of celebrating “queer love and queer visibility” while also sending a reminder that “there’s a lot more that needs to be done.”

The intricate and expressive look, which features hand embroidery and beading, ties into his relationship with Anderson and longtime love of his designs.

“The shoes that I’m wearing are sort of replica of a boot that Jonathan had made in one of his early, early JW collections way back in the 2010s. We had dinner recently, and he said to me, ‘I have known your name for such a long time because you were one of the first people to buy those boots,’” Levy recalled, explaining that when Anderson’s company was smaller, the designer knew all the names of his avid customers.

“When we were talking about putting this look together, we were discussing what to do for the footwear. And I had proposed what if we remake your boots as kind of a personal connection between the two of us. They were such good boots, and I think the younger fashion crowd needs to know just how significant he’s been for such a long time,” he continued. “So there’s kind of like a wink and a nod to a history that we have had together…. It’s amazing to have been a fan for so long and now to get to work with him in this capacity.”

While the boots are a heartwarming detail, Levy also joked that they may be his saving grace for tackling the iconic Met staircase.

“​​I think that my boots are substantial enough to really ground me…. If all else fails, I know that I’m in very sturdy boots that hopefully will not trip me up. Then cut to—falls down the stairs,” he said with a laugh.

Talking about working with Levy on his Met creation, Anderson told Vanity Fair: “Dan is our gay superhero. Through his comedy, he is able to knock down cultural barriers. We wanted to make something that allows him to make queer love visible and we found that through the seminal works of David Wojnarowicz.”

Levy said there was something “special” about being able to recreate Wojnarowicz’s artist themes into a work of fashion for the Met gala’s world stage.

“I think that has always kind of been what the Met has embodied—doing what you can do to send a message. It’s not just clothes, you're celebrating the impact that fashion can have and culture,” he said.

And in the spirit of Wojnarowicz’s influential AIDS activism, Loewe has donated to Visual AIDS, an organization Wojnarowicz long-supported that continues to promote AIDS awareness and education.

“Jonathan described [the look] as a superhero for the community, and when I put it on, I definitely feel that,” Levy said. “And to me, that’s an America that I want to be a part of.”

[leemarkies]

If u wanna write a thinkpiece on noise music i would be v interested tbh

ok buckle up 🤠

so in this essay i'm going to only focus on and compare nct and skz because they're the forerunners on noise music. full disclaimer: i ult both groups and love the (majority) of their music and i adore the members. this thinkpiece is only to give my most objective opinion on their artistry and music.

what constitutes noise music? and what elements of noise music make it "good music"? to me, noise music has clashing instrumentals, that separated would not sound cohesive at all, but when put together have at least some semblance of musicality. this definition excludes sticker and thunderous from the category of "noise music". ik this might be a controversial opinion, but sticker simply does not have enough instruments in the song to be considered noise. i can practically count on one hand how many instruments are used. yes the weird synth base and flute clash, but there is too much empty space (for back of letter word). i think sticker is definitely experimental, but i would not classify it as noise music. nct noise music includes (but is not limited to) songs like kick it, limitless, chain, mad dog, and to an extent, punch and simon says. i would not classify thunderous as noise music because there is not enough clashing instruments. sure, the song has brass fanfare, but at no point when i'm listening to it do i think it is itching my brain. don't get me wrong, it's a great song, but it is not similar to their other songs like miroh, side effects, god's menu, go live, or cheese. that's why i think trying to compare nct and skz by their newest releases is kind of dumb. however, you can definitely compare and contrast their previous songs

NCT 127

now i'm going to focus on nct 127. although nct dream has some songs that are defined as "noise music" (see: go and hot sauce) it is primarily nct 127's "brand". the main element nct has that turns their music from "bad bad music" to "good bad music" is their vocals. their songs often have small breaks from the clashing instruments to give the listener a relief, and during that break, they showcase what sm is known for (amazing, industry-standard vocals). not only does it break the monotony of the noisy instruments, but it also creates hype for when it resumes! limitless is a great example of this! please do yourself a favor and listen to the instrumental ver of the song on youtube. i get legit goosebumps every time the beat drops all over again. i do have two complaints. 1) there are times were their raps are lacking, and it really kinda almost breaks the whole vibe of the song because it makes me cringe a little. see lemonade as an example, even though i would not classify lemonade as noise music. 2) this is off topic but i kinda rip apart skz a little bit so i feel like i need to be balanced and fair but i literally hate sticker so much and the album, although has good songs, is bland and has little variety

STRAY KIDS

stray kids are the younger cousins of nct. they too focus on noise music, but they have their own twist on it. skz comparitively have better rappers. not saying mark and ty are bad by any means, but there are some nct members that also rap that ... should not and instead be vocals. but skz continuously show hard, impactful raps that nct usually lacks to some extent. this is both a good and bad thing for noise music, depending on your baseline opinion on noise music to begin with. if you generally don't like noise music, raps add even more clashing. if you do like noise music, rap can be used as an additional "instrumental" element. i think a great example would be cb's rap in miroh and god's menu. it hypes up the song either right before the beat drop or at the beginning respectively. nct doesn't really have that, they rely on vocals for the lead up. skz definitely have their own spin on noise music and i'm glad they do, variety is the spice of life. i only have three complaints. 1) they do not use their vocalists to the best of their abilities. sm and in have lower toned voices, yet they are consistently forced to sing notes in a very high register, which can understandably sound strained. to combat this, skz use han for the really high lines. 2) when they do have vocal breaks, they should really utilize lino more. part of the reason why nct's vocal breaks are so good is because they are such a contrast to the rest of the song. have you ever watched judges on cooking network? they often say "i wish you used a spalsh of lemon to lighten up this dish". well in this scenario, light, airy voices are the lemon and the noise music beats are the heavy cream. nct has light voices (dy, hc, jw, and to an extent tl). look at kick it. the very first vocal break is jw and hc and it really elevates the entire rest of the song. now skz really only has lino as a light voice (bc and han also too an extent) yet they very rarely use him, which is disappointing. 3) this is kind of off topic but i'm disappointed that their lastest album, literally termed "noeasy" which is a spin-off of the word "noisy" has only one noise music song. like i said before i do not classify thunderous as noisy, but cheese fits the description. don't get me wrong, noeasy is literally one of my favorite kpop albums now but it does kind of fall short of its given name.

conclusion: i really enjoy nct and skz's music. i think the introduction of the noise genre is a great illustration of why kpop is so unique. kpop is MEANT to be experimental. it is meant to be in your face. it is meant to be loud and colorful. it is meant for you to initially think "wow that's weird" because in the end, 9/10 you'll fall in love with it. i think nct and skz can both improve on different aspects and i think it's interesting to compare the two, but in the end, they both have their own takes on noise music

[stylesnews]

In an unexpected twist, a 1,250 British pound ($1,560) color-block patchwork cardigan by JW Anderson has captured the imaginations of creators on TikTok, the mobile video platform that is attracting intense interest from the fashion industry.

TikTok, developed by Chinese tech giant ByteDance and launched in the U.S. in 2018, is known for hosting challenges inspired by hashtags like #PoseChallenge and #ChaChaWorkout, appealing to its youthful audience (41 percent ages 16 to 24). The company has this month launched a new platform for marketers, TikTok For Business. TikTok users started re-creating the rainbow-colored knitted garment from JW Anderson’s Spring 2020 men’s collection after it was worn by singer Harry Styles during a rehearsal for his performance on The Today Show back in February. The hashtag #HarryStylesCardigan on TikTok has since accumulated over 330,000 views, showing the viral potential of TikTok for fashion marketers.

Jonathan Anderson, founder of JW Anderson, came up with the design of the cardigan as “I liked this idea of something that felt rather authentic and almost homemade, like your grandmother could have made it,” he tells Vogue Business. “At the same time, it feels a little deconstructed and punk. Something quite humble.”

While TikTok has attracted big labels such as Burberry, Gucci, Prada, Dior and Ralph Lauren, some of which have sponsored their own challenges, this is the first time that a brand, especially an emerging one, has enjoyed this level of organic virality on TikTok, says Brian Mandler, cofounder of TikTok ad agency, The Network Effect.

“In this case, it had little to do with the brand and more with a creator taking a pop culture moment and adding their own unique spin on it to drive interest and audiences. That’s how this whole thing got started,” he says. “Liv was one of the first creators to really take hold of this content of re-creation.”

Mandler is referring to Liv Huffman, a 22-year-old from Los Angeles, with over 730,000 followers on her account @lilbittylivie. Her video, posted on June 15, has accumulated over 3 million views and more than 944,000 likes. “I actually didn’t know it was a challenge or trend before I made mine!” she says.

“Crocheting has been a hobby of mine for a few years now and I really dove into it during quarantine. As a long-time Harry fan, I thought it would be a fun way to challenge my crochet abilities,” she adds. It took her about two weeks to create the finished knit.

Brady Gunson, whose account @oops_brady has 4,600 followers, posted his version of the challenge a day after Huffman’s, where he first came across the cardigan. “I’m a big fan of Harry Styles and his fashion. I taught myself to sew as I love to create clothes based on designs I see,” explains the 22-year-old, based in Philadelphia.

“After seeing a few TikTokers knitting the sweater, I realized I could probably achieve a similar, more ’90s vibe-look by creating the same thing out of fleece. It probably took me about seven or eight hours to produce,” he explains. The video has since garnered 46,000 views and more than 12,800 likes.

“Fashion content plays into the larger themes we see resonating well with the TikTok community, and we continue to see fashion grow in popularity across the platform with creators and brands,” says CeCe Vu, fashion content partnerships lead at TikTok. “This is a great example of how TikTok creators showcased their crafty skills and expressed their fandom for Harry Styles’s iconic looks, in this case, his trendy JW Anderson patchwork sweater.”

“The last time Harry performed for The Today Show, the images from that rehearsal were seen a lot, so we wanted to have something fun for this one. This cardigan has so much character, something that you could have found in your parents closet from the ’70s, it felt perfect for Harry,” says Harry Lambert, Harry Styles’s stylist since 2014.

Lambert adds that he is a fan of JW Anderson, having worked on “a number” of the brand’s runway shows as an assistant. “What I have learnt is that Harry’s fans are really creative; I regularly see them re-creating looks inspired by his outfits and now some have learnt a craft to do this,” he continues. “This brings me so much joy [and] I have never seen it on this scale before.”

The cardigan challenge went viral because of the growing popularity of #CraftCore among Gen Z consumers, who are spending most of their time indoors during the COVID-19 pandemic, says Delphine Buchotte, who previously held chief marketing roles at Diane von Furstenberg and L’Oréal Paris before launching digital marketing agency Phidel in New York with Philip Atkins, former vice president of Totokaelo.

“The way challenges go viral is all down to the community,” explains TikTok spokesperson Laura Jenkins. “If a user shares a video that gets high engagement, users often begin to re-create the concept of the video. This will either happen by using the same sound, replicating the format, or copying the content of the original video.”

Jenkins points out that a creator can go viral on TikTok without having a single follower. “But a creator’s chances are increased by tapping into viral trends, memes, and music [which] are discoverable by searching for hashtags or by browsing the videos created for a specific audio,” she says. An example of this, she says, is Gucci, which shared a video encouraging its 365,000 followers to copy dance moves with its own original sound. It has now been viewed over 8 million times.

What also makes TikTok a good breeding ground for viral content is that its audience is geared for this kind of content, adds Mandler. “The essence of TikTok is being a copycat platform. Users do not get bored seeing multiple versions of one trend, unlike audiences on other social platforms.” Atkins agrees: “TikTok embodies Andy Warhol’s ‘15 minutes of fame’ far more than any other platform; now, it’s 90 seconds of TikTok.”

Buchotte adds that the crochet cardigan challenge worked neatly in sync with Jonathan Anderson’s interest in craft. “It’s a core value of the JW Anderson brand, and that intersection of values was quite powerful,” she says.

Since February, the multicolored patchwork cardigan has been among the top 10 most searched for products from the JW Anderson brand, according to global fashion search platform Lyst. Online searches including key terms such as “patchwork,” “crochet,” and “knitted” also rose collectively by 78 percent between February and March 2020.

“TikTok offers the opportunity to playfully experiment with audiences and see what content resonates outside of established platforms’ algorithms,” says Atkins, but he also warns that trends change rapidly — “there isn’t a set formula.”

For brands looking to capitalize on moments like these, Mandler suggests that they jump into the narrative, just as JW Anderson did on its own TikTok account, by “making sure that creators and users know that you’re a part of it, by sharing their videos on your own TikTok, or taking it a step further and working with additional creators to add their own spin.”

TikTok is the future of retail, claims Mandler. Brands need to have their finger on the pulse of what is happening on TikTok, both surrounding their brand as well as what is bubbling on the platform. “While the video itself may not be [shoppable], Gen Z is the most inquisitive generation yet. If videos like this are of interest, kids will figure out what brand or product it is, and if they want to purchase it, they will. They’re not being directly sold to, which inspires them even more to seek out information,” he says.

“I think that the cardigan resonated because in this time of reflection during the quarantine, people have reconnected with this idea of making things. I quite like that we designed something that has taken on a new type of meaning, a new life. And I think that’s important for fashion today; to be about inclusion, not exclusion,” says Anderson.

However, he asserts that he doesn’t want to capitalize on its popularity. “You never really own a design anyway. You have to let go of it. I think it’s great people are finding joy in it,” he says. To encourage further participation in the trend, the designer will release the pattern for the cardigan this week across his social media channels “so anyone can download it and make it their own.”

[fabelyn]

Xie Lian’s 3rd Ascension Meta

Alright, so I’ve had thoughts and headcanons over how Xie Lian achieved his 3rd ascension. I tried asking fandom first to make sure I hadn’t simply skipped over an explanation, but the consensus seems to be the novel never explained and people assume he went up on his own merit.

I agree, but for a while I was hung up over the very real possibility Xie Lian ascended through the will of Jun Wu.

After putting my thoughts in order, I’ve come to the final conclusion of: 

Xie Lian ascended on his own merit, Hua Cheng played an integral part in it, and Jun Wu was aware he would do so and prepared for it. And a lesser possibility: Xie Lian might have ascended a bit earlier and Jun Wu slowed things down

I was very hung up on Jun Wu because it’s clear at least in my mind that Jun Wu knew Xie Lian was coming up. So now I’ll explain why Jun Wu didn’t ascend him, why he might have delayed the ascension and likely how Xie Lian ascended, among some other points.

This is longish and there be spoilers, so it’s behind a Read More:

First of all, methods of ascending:

-Jun Wu speeding things up (Xie Lian’s 1st ascension was this);

-Popularity, High Cultivation and Luck.

Why I assume Jun Wu clearly knew Xie Lian was going to ascend again and around when:

Jun Wu was stalking Xie Lian for 800 years. This is canon in my mind, given he knew all about Xie Lian’s exploits and sent him on missions ready made to attack him using his obscure past. Ban Yue pass was this (certainly one can argue he sent him there to create further conflict between XL and Pei Ming, but it was too much coincidence, especially considering the rest) and the mission where Jun Wu set him up to work with the one God who would have quite the beef with XL was the nail to the head. XL never used his face or original name during his Guoshi days: Jun Wu had to have been following him.

Furthermore, the first arc was readily prepared for Xie Lian when he went up. He barely ascended and already there was this... gift wrapped middle finger mission waiting for him.

That mission was clearly made for XL alone, it had: that very specific boy ghost with the face disease, Cuocuo, a ghost that was using the power of a Ghost King that was Xie Lian’s cousin and oh yeah, the Ghost was pissy because she had given her all and been abandoned (ay what a coincidental theme eh?)

The Ghost had been doing her thing for a long time, but coincidentally only recently it reached the point where Heaven had to act. Coincidentally the ghost boy and CuoCuo also happened to walk in around the same time. Too much coincidence, so clearly this was set up and fueled by Jun Wu.

But there’s the thing: the ghost boy hand’t come in, say, the day before XL reached the mountain, he’d been there a while...longer than between XL ascending and him accepting the mission and reaching the place.

Remember also that Xie Lian was wearing the shackles. It’s not a stretch to assume Jun Wu can track him through them, especially given he was able to appear in Xie Lian’s hotel room without XL having told anyone where he was located, much less his room number.. That always bothered me: how did he find both? It’s above him to have put a tracking device on Xie Lian.

So, Jun Wu had set the first mission up before Xie Lian ascended. Moreso given whe XL ascended he was “oh so coincidentally” away and thus this mission had no one to take care of but XL. Moreover, the whole situation was a powder keg: Jun Wu couldn't randomly set it up and see if maybe, maybe XL would randomly ascend in time that he could use it to fuck with him.

So, with this, either Jun Wu was the one to ascend Xie Lian, or he knew it would be happening.

Why it wasn’t Jun Wu ascending him:

a) There was no real reason to. It’s not as if Xie Lian’s mindset had changed, and he wasn’t even reeling from a tense situation (like being buried alive, being framed for murdering people, being mufasad trampled to death). There was no reason for Jun Wu to decide “fuck it, time for abuse and mind games Round 3″ unless 800 years was too long and he got impatient.

b) Xie Lian never questions his own ascension. He isn’t shocked that Jun Wu isn’t around when he comes up; yet if XL assumed his ascension was by Jun Wu, wouldn’t he expect the guy to be around to talk? Moreover, he never talks to Jun Wu about why he ascended. If XL knew his actions had not been enough to go up by himself, then he’d certainly have asked Jun Wu why bring him up now, or even suggest he shouldn’t have and XL deserves more suffering. He did none of that, instead focusing on everything else. So, even the humble XL didn’t think JW had a hand in it.

Jun Wu might have, in fact, delayed Xie Lian’s ascension, but to get to that possibility, let’s first deal with how XL went up again.

How Xie Lian ascended a 3rd time, and why Hua Cheng was integral to it:

@indelibleme has put their own headcanon in very good words, and I don’t disagree so here are their comments:

According to HOB, you have to 3 things to ascend. Luck, High Cultivation, Popularity (Being well known basically). So the first time is obvious - he was a genius in cultivation, his luck was said to very good, and he was a crown prince so popularity is a given. The second time, I’m guessing was a combination of having fought a Calamity (Bai Wuxiang), driven off the accumulated ghostly spirits (albeit with the help of Wuming) and he did it front of a lot of Yong'an people.  He was also cultivating on the side, so that’s probably the combination that lead him to ascend. After which tho, he willingly sealed away two things - his luck and his cultivation. So really, the only other way he could ascend is popularity. Which is tricky in the beginning as he’s a unlucky crown prince who is technically “wanted” on the mortal plane. But as we know, he does attain a lot of popularity. As the Guoshi Feng Xin and the Ban Yue General Xie Hua.  Also, cultivation is not just spiritual but also physical prowess. And from what we see later, Xie Lian has enough physical prowess to battle the young Crown Prince of Yong'an and Hua Cheng as well, from when he stopped their fight. He also claimed he would win overwhelmingly against that Crown Prince. All this without any spiritual energy. Plus with his luck sealed away, it seems it took him 800 years to accumulate enough of the other two to ascend again.

Summary: You need luck, popularity or high cultivation to ascend. Xie Lian had two sealed away, so he could only have ascended through popularity and physical cultivation.

Although Xie Lian roamed the world without using his real identity, he still left his mark through aliases such as Ban Yue General and Guoshi. And he managed to get rid of two Venerables of Empty Words, which would get him well known in the ghost realm even if no one knew who he was. We also know (see: Wind God being assumed female) popularity isn’t necessarily tied to your real self. That said, that even his name wasn’t tied to this feats must have harmed him popularity even if not turned it moot for ascending purposes.

Enter Hua Cheng.

Hua Cheng built a goddamn Ten Thousand Statue Temple, very clearly and specifically for Xie Lian. And would later go on to build the Thousand Lantern Temple, because nothing is too extra for Hua Cheng.

Let’s also remember how many lanterns Hua Cheng sent off in Xie Lian’s name: XL won the lantern competition. Considering how fiercely (and again, how extra he is) Hua Cheng loves Xie Lian, should we really assume he hadn’t done this until now? Perhaps he had been doing it for a while, but because Xie Lian hadn’t been officially a god, the lanterns were never counted.

If Xie Lian’s own deeds (by way of his hidden identity) were not sufficient to ascend him, Hua Cheng’s love and devotion, and his intense demonstration of those in Xie Lian’s name, had to be enough popularity to push him back up.

And to top it off was his physical prowess.

Why Jun Wu might have, in fact, delayed his ascension:

This is my weakest conjecture, based on trying to explain one last gap.

So if we agree that Xie Lian went up by popularity... his ascension timing is still off.

Unless the Lantern temple had just been built (doubtful, Hua Cheng wouldn’t have spent even a month without someplace near he could worship Xie Lian), then there was no recent popularity increase (or even cultivation or luck increase) to explain his sudden ascension. Ban Yue pass was the most “recent” one and that was a 100 years before. The stint with the Empty words was also, according to the text “many years ago”.

So unless Xie Lian is keeping a bit feat that boosted his popularity, or Hua Cheng did something massive in his name recently... he should have ascended before he did, or waited for more popularity. 

Same with physical prowess: should we believe he only acquired peak physical cultivation after 800 years?

If it wasn’t Hua Cheng or a big deed/cultivation the plot isn’t telling us... it had to be Jun Wu.

Perhaps by Ban Yue’s tragic end Xie Lian had amassed enough sufficient popularity to ascend, but would Jun Wu want him to? With the same frame of mind and no plan on JW’s part to tear it apart?

Maybe Jun Wu wanted him to keep Xie Lian suffering, in his denial that Xie Lian would not turn up like him eventually. Or maybe he simply wanted time to prepare “fuck you, bitch” plots for Xie Lian when he came up. Or maybe Xie Lian’s right to an ascension could not be stopped forever...

As @indelibleme​ has said to me: the last ascension was " Xie Lian's "third path" to solving a problem”, instead of falling into the ways Jun Wu wanted.

So Jun Wu delayed it, prepared a mission to rattle him and bother Pei Ming, then let him come up while being conveniently away just as the mission had conveniently come up.

They said his third ascension was the most violent, as if the very foundation of Heaven was shaking. We assume it was, of course, the bones that made the foundation sensing Xie Lian had come to change things. But maybe we can add to it that the violence was also a result of his delayed dues: Xie Lian rising when he was much more popular and physically stronger than a God usually is when he ascends, because it was held off.

(And the one thing to fall on Mu Qing being a clock would have the added simbolism -beyond the whole guilt and past symbolism it already had- of representing the time that was taken away from Xie Lian by Jun Wu which Jun Wu could no longer control)

And this ends my observations. This is my explanation for his 3rd ascension, that to me fixes the issues I’ve had with the whole thing (Jun Wu’s preparedness, timing, etc). This fits the theme of HOB: of Xie Lian finding his own path -despite Jun Wu’s meddling- through his kindness and helped by Hua Cheng’s love.

Hopefully I won’t have turned out to have skipped information that invalidates this.

[princesscas]

Hi! I have a question. I haven’t been heavily involved in tumblr/social media for a while. I had stopped watching supernatural for a couple of years and just got back into it. I ship destiel, but sometimes things about wincest come up. I keep seeing things about people not wanting to “ship shame” which you just mentioned as well, and I’m just confused. How is it okay that people ship two brothers? Like they are actual brothers on the show?? I don’t care that they’re not irl. I don’t know who the N girl you’re talking about is but apparently she cares about canon, so how can she like it? And why is it wrong for people to condemn people for shipping two brothers, when that is the thing inherently wrong? Like it’s disgusting... it’s not about them being guys, it’s incest... Again, I just don’t get it and I hope I don’t come off as rude! Thank you!

Nah, you’re not rude at all! Never ever like them. I’m still upset about what happened two days ago so what the hell, tea time!

To start off, I believe that everyone can ship whatever like like as long as they aren’t sending hate to others. Take a look at this (lengthy) post about ship wars. People can ship whatever they want, end of story. Doesn’t really matter anyway because people are gonna do what they wanna do. Do I like those types of ships like you described above? No, but it’s none of my business to tell others what they can and cannot ship. Sometimes I read darkfics. That isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and that’s okay. Is the post/fanfic properly tagged with such elements? Then it’s fine. Start hyjacking posts/leaving nasty comments? That’s 1000% not fine and it never will be. 

Something that doesn’t get brought up enough: There is a vast difference between an ordinary w//cest shipper and a J-two-squared tinhatter who believes the said two actors are secretly gay, their wives are beards, they hate mish, everyone who doesn’t like w//cest are wrong, etc.

Now, it’s on the shipper if they start normalizing such things. (in//st, unhealthy, etc) And the rabid obsessed (N&Co) hate-everything-that-breathes crew is a prime example of this. 

This thing is already long so why not throw out some receipts, huh?  IMO, you cross that ‘ship whatever you want’ line when you do this: 

...I ship an angel and a human my dude. (and two 100 yr old super soldiers, I wonder what they think about stucky lol) also jesus christ the rest of that is a mess. 

/tw: biphobia here./ REAL bisexuals? “oh you aren’t bisexual if you like one angel and a hunter.” And they’re obsessed with calling everyone ‘teenager girls.’ This is not only wrong but also pretty damn transphobic and misogynistic. 1) Most people have aged over the years (wow that’s crazy right?) 2) trans, nonbinary, and gender fluid people exist. 

Overall, these people are a horrible bunch. They’re obsessed with preaching to people about ‘tagging properly’ when they could take it upon themselves and use a blacklisting extension. Or just block every single blog they don’t like. These people are a very small portion of the fandom but they’re loud, they want you to think they make up all of the fandom but they don’t. Not even close, when other in general posts gets thousands of notes/retweets and theirs get maybe a couple hundred. (and a lot are from reblogs for replies) 

Not gonna lie, I feel the need to defend w//cest shippers because I’ve known/have/had mutuals who do ship it and they’re nice as can be. 

The loud bunch are so loud, it silences the others who partaking in normal fandom things. Or really, if I were them, I wouldn’t want to associate myself with those people. 

Let’s pretend for a second. Imagine if you loved a ship (it could be any ship from any fandom) but the fandom is toxic as hell and the most ‘popular/well known’ blogs/artists/writers are these people. Fandom corners have history on the way they were built upon throughout the course of the fandom’s media. 

You browse the tags, the blogs, the fanfics, and find yourself staring at a hateful group of cult-like bigoted people. But wait. These people? They don’t like fanfiction or fanon. No, they hate anyone who writes anything outside of textbook canon. Any characters outside of SW/DW/JW won’t be present. (if you’re curious or are brave enough, go look at the AO3 tag, it’s sad) 

I try to be empathetic with people. I cannot, for the life of me, imagine what it’s like. To love a show so much with your favorite ship but one part dislikes it and another part are so inherently hateful.   

The OP deleted but this thread on Reddit is exactly what I’m talking about. And they mentioned something else I think not many people bring up: OT3′s. 

I’m gonna quote this but it’s 1000% true. 

“What I can't for the life of me understand though is why people would hate on Misha as an actor because of his role on the show. I've seen a lot of Misha hatred - and I mean A LOT of it. In fact, I recently went through the anti-misha tag on tumblr and blocked over 200 tumblr accounts that either were dedicated to bashing him or castiel, or posted constantly about it.”

“It's really nuts to me that people would choose to put so much time and effort into hating an actor who hasn't done anything to them personally or hasn't even affected their lives, when they could be putting good feelings into praising the actors who have affected their lives in a good way instead if you feel me.”

Constantly is the key word here. I don’t think these people ever stop, not even for one second, to sit down and say, “God this is exhausting, I think I need a break this week.” I really dislike these people but I also feel empathetic for them. What is their mental health like? It isn’t healthy. Go show a therapist this, they’d probably quit on the spot. (okay prob not but that’s my best example atm) 

This has gotten extremely long so I think I’ll stop here. There are some nice people out there who will ship things you don’t like but a toxic side can make it seem much worse than it actually is. Ironically, it’s usually the opposite. (ie: voltron’s’s toxic side scaring off other shippers of that fandom) 

Lemme end this with pre!serum smol Steve and his legendary quote: 

[mysweetestcreature]

Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 1: Had Me from Hello

(Banner by the wonderful noblewomankat <3)

***

Masterlist

***

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

        The car parks right at the entrance of the school, where some students are gathered around making conversation and trying to out-do the other in who’s had the most exotic vacation, while others swarm through the doors on a mission to get back into the flow of the semester. Harry eyes the building up and down from the window cautiously. Don’t get him wrong, he’s ecstatic to be attending Ashwood Prep this year, especially considering the fact he received a hefty amount of scholarship money when he had gotten accepted. It’s just that being the new kid at a K12 school might as well be like getting thrown into open water when all one knows is how to backstroke. 

        “I could drive around the block again, if you’d like?” Harry snorts at the suggestion as he turns back to his mum. “I can just feel anxiety coming off your aura,” she adds, circling her hand just around the side of his head. Over the last few months, she’s been very interested in trying to read his aura, whatever that means (he isn’t sure how this obsession started, but he’ll admit that she’s getting quite good).

        “Mum...” he whines, shrinking further into the leather of his seat as he covers his face from any overly curious eyes that may find him and his mother a little too interesting. 

        Anne feigns offense and lets out a dramatic huff. “Not even a day in high school, and he’s already ashamed to be seen with me.” 

        Both remain silent for the time being, and only the chatter from outside fills the void of unsaid between them. It’s when Harry takes the chance and subtly tries to take a peek at her from the corner of his eye, does he find her doing the exact same. They burst into giggles, and Harry shakes his head as he sits up. Once he’s recovered, his gaze falls back towards the window, where the number of students has decreased in just a matter of minutes. 

        “’m nervous,” he admits despondently a few seconds later. 

        A hand falls over his, squeezing it tight as its thumb pads over his skin to calm him. “And that’s completely normal, but, darling –– it’s going to be alright. I know this because I know you, and you’re never one to back down. Besides, I think you look quite handsome in your uniform.” He’s dressed in black dress pants topped off with a white polo, a cool-toned dark blue cardigan and a black tie with school’s emblem printed in the middle. 

        As Harry lets the rest of Anne’s words sink in, he thinks about how he’d been in this position not even two years ago. A year and eight months ago, to be exact, he’d moved from his childhood home in Holmes Chapel in England to New Jersey. Anne had received a stellar job opportunity as marketing head at a consumer goods company, and Harry and his sister, Gemma, felt like that had to support her in this new chapter of her life. Unfortunately, that included leaving behind their friends, family, and all that they’ve ever known. So, in mid-January, he’d been the new kid to insert himself into the seventh-grade at JW Middle School. For the most part, everyone in his year had been kind enough, sans those few jerks who made fun of the way he talked and yelled ‘bloody hell’ whenever they’d see him in the halls or at lunch, but even that only lasted for a month. Other than that, he felt as though he’d really tried to make the best out of their situation.

        Now here he is again, in nearly an identical position as the last. It’s a lot better now, he supposes. For starters, he’s starting school on the first day, so he’s sure there are going to be at least a dozen new students like him. By now, he’s also used to living in Jersey (loves it, his mum would say), even knows all the best diners within a thirty-mile radius of his house and where to get the freshest bagels on a Saturday morning. 

        The eighth grade had even been immensely enjoyable for him, he had made a lot of friends, had his first kiss, and he even graduated salutatorian of the class, only falling a thousandth of a decimal behind Andrea Chung. 

        “You know what? You’re right, mum. I can so do this,” he affirms himself. 

        “Hey, I didn’t say to be cocky,” Anne teases, pinching his cheeks before she unlocks the doors. “Now, get out of my car. I have a meeting in less than an hour, and I still need to stop for coffee. Love you!” 

        Harry lets his feet fall onto the sidewalk toes first, and pulls the straps of his backpack over his shoulders. Ashwood Prep looks even bigger now that he’s stood on the ground. Everyone is dressed in their uniforms, but of course there are those who obviously chose to customize theirs. He looks to his left, and swallows hard as Anne’s Mercedes merges onto the main road. “This is it,” he tells himself. This is where he’ll be spending the next four years of his life. 

        Suddenly, he feels something knock into his back, causing him to stumble a few steps forward. 

        “Oof!” 

        Before he can catch a glimpse and ask if whoever it was is okay, a figure manages to dodge his eyes as she speeds off up the stairs. 

        “I’m so sorry!” the girl yells back at him, but all he can really make out is the side of her face and a silver and pink checkered scrunchie that holds her hair back in a half do style. “But I have to get these ready before Pattern A or else Mr. N is totally gonna be on my back about it!” Her echo sounds panicked as she disappears into the building, and even the students still remaining towards the entrance part a path for her to pass. 

        “You’re fine!” he shouts after her. 

***

        “You’ll find that your locker assignments and schedules are laid out for you in alphabetical order,” the homeroom teacher, Mr. Bartolome says in his most unenthusiastic tone. “If you have any questions...ask each other.” Harry heads towards the back in search of his last name, until he finds it at a desk right by the window, its position is in perfect view of the entire room. There are some small things he notices, like how the walls have barely a scratch on them and how the floors are so we'll polished that even the slightest of movements elicits a squeak.

        Just as he takes his seat, a voice booms from beside him. “Excuse me!” His head leads the rest of his body as he pivots on his heel. A girl with magnificent auburn hair tied back in a high ponytail and freckles that dance across her face almost perfectly stares inquisitively at him. “You’re new, right? I’m Zoey” 

        “Oh, uh...yeah. I’m Harry,” he replies with a polite nod. As he sits down, he can feel Zoey’s eyes scan him up and down. 

        “Wait!” she gasps, her mouth falling open. “Are you...are you from England?” She looks at him expectantly, as though waiting for him to say that he’s related to the Queen or Churchill or something just as outrageous as that.

        He nods before speaking. “Cheshire,” he replies, but she stares at him blankly. “It’s North from London.” 

        “Oh,” she tries to hide her disappointment. “Well, if you need help with anything, you can always ask me.” 

        “Thanks,” he offers her a tight-lipped grin. She sends him a wink in return before turning to her friend seated to her other side.

        Harry takes the opportunity to look down at the gridded schedule laid out before him. Thank god he’d looked over his schedule ahead a time when it was posted online because it had taken him about an hour to fully comprehend, and if he’s being honest, Mr. Bartolome kind of scares him. The school works on a 6-day cycle, and each class is referred to as a ‘pattern’ rather than a ‘period’. Each day, one subject drops, and the one that had dropped the day before is added in at the beginning. He looks up at the board, where Mr. Bartolome has written an outline of how today is going to work out. Day 1, it says in green marker, followed by the order of classes. Harry looks back down at his schedule, and his eyes linger on his Pattern A. 

***

        His first class of the day just happens to be his favorite subject. Harry isn’t sure what it is, but he loves reading and learning about the past and drawing maps of how the past has contributed and affected the present. It might be because his grandad had been a university history professor at Oxford and would tell Harry tales from World War 2 in place of the usual bedtime stores (that’s not to say that Harry isn’t well versed in fairytales, of course). 

        Luckily there hadn’t been assigned seating, so Harry was able to snag a table in the third row when he had first come in. The seats are now slowly filling up as the rest of the class staggers in a few tired looking students at a time, and the teacher makes it a point to note that it’s the first day...the first class of the day nonetheless! Harry recognizes a few from homeroom, like the boy who had dared asked Mr. Bartolome a question, and Zoey, who flirtatiously waves at him with before being forced into the back by a few of her friends. 

        Their teacher pushes out of his chair and heads to the whiteboard. He takes a dry erase marker in his hand, and in big letters writes what looks to be his name, but Harry can barely make it out without squinting his eyes.  

        “Welcome to US History Honors!” he exclaims. “As I’ve just written in my embarrisingly horrendous handwriting...which is why we’re definitely using PowerPoint, so I don’t get a billion emails about what’s written, don’t worry...I’m Mr. Noone!” 

        Mr. Noone walks over to the door, but just as he’s about to shut it to start the lesson, someone calls out to him from the hall. “Wait! I’m here, I’m here!” Everyone watches as the elderly man lets out a knowing sigh, shoulders falling in defeat, but it’s followed by a genuine chuckle as the final student speeds into the room. 

        “Sorry, Mr. N!” she says, still trying to catch her breath. Harry immediately eyes the same pink and grey scrunchie that had knocked into him earlier. “But I had to wait for these to cool before packing them up or else all the sugar would fall off!” In her hands is a medium-sized Tupperware, and he recognizes the faint yet alluring scent of freshly baked treats.

        “Earl grey short bread?” Mr. Noone cocks a brow at her as he finally shuts the door. “I don’t accept tardiness for just any average cookie.”

        The girl shakes her head animatedly. “I’m insulted that you even have to ask that question!” Mr. Noone strolls towards his desk with his hands behind his back, then peaks over the top of the container. A pleased expression dances across his face as his fingers fish for a scrumptious cookie to bite in to, and he’s even more ecstatic as the shortbread touches his palate. 

        “You did good, kid. Now find a seat before I write you up for loitering,” he threatens lightly, and the girl lets out a little huff as she turns around.  

        And that’s when Harry finally sees her face. 

        His stomach flips over, and he’s left in that awkward position of will he or won’t he see this morning’s breakfast again (and he’d eaten a hefty meal). Her eyes have a glimmer to them, like a star on top of a Christmas tree or better yet, the real ones he watches from his bedroom window when he can’t fall asleep. He’s so in awe that he stops breathing when those sparkling eyes land on the empty seat right beside him. Whatever amusement he’d been feeling when he’d first sat down is now replaced with something else. It’s like heat that creeps up to his neck originating from the base of his spine. 

        The closer she gets, the sweatier his palms become, so bad that he has trouble keeping his pen firm in his grasp. “Hi, I’m Y/n!” she says as she stops in front of him, a warm smile embedded on her lips and a warmth that seems to radiate off her so naturally. “I hope you don’t mind if I sit here?” 

        “Y-yeah, I mean, no! I mean, of course. It’s...it’s all yours.” What was that?! Jesus Christ, Harry. It’s like you’ve never talked to a girl before! She giggles as he trips over his words, but thanks him graciously before sliding into the seat and getting herself comfortable. He tenses at her presence being so close to him and he couldn’t tell you why. “Harry,” he blurts out like vomit. 

        “What?” She looks up from digging through her bag.

        He bites on the inside of his cheek, suddenly feeling conscious under this self-imposed pressure. “My name’s Harry,” and he shyly repeats before turning back to the board.

        Y/n tilts her head at him, and the soft smile returns to her face. “Nice to meet you, Harry.” 

        At that, he’s finally able to breathe normally. He steals a couple glances at her as she sets everything down on their table, and he notices how her lips quirk to the side as she sets everything down with such precision. A printed Beatles-themed pencil case catches his eye, and he smiles to himself as he thinks fondly to all the times his grandad had played their records over and over. 

        “I love the Beatles,” he says almost as a whisper, but she picks up on it and perks up immediately. 

        “They’re my favorite band and all I listen to most days.” She picks up the pouch and twirls it in her hands. “My dad brought this back when he visited London a few years ago. I’ve never been, but hopefully one day!” There’s hope in her voice as she stares sheepishly at the print.

        “Alright!” Their conversation is cut short as Mr. Noone chews up his last bit of cookie. “Now that that’s taken care of, let’s start class!” A projection screen starts to pull down over the whiteboard, followed by a slowly brightening white light. “While we’re waiting for this to load, I want you to take a good look at who you’re sitting next to because you’ll be partnering up for various projects and presentations over the course of the year.” 

***

        After class, Harry sits back as he watches a bulk of his classmates file out of the room en route to their next destination. As their voices carry out into the halls, it’s just him and a few others left, including Y/n, who appears to be taking her sweet time packing everything up in her bag.   

        “So,” the “o” carries out longer than he’d anticipated. He scratches the back of his neck as he searches for something, anything, he can say to her, so she doesn’t think he’s a complete and utter fool for not being able to speak without fumbling over his own tongue. “I’m not really sure where my next class is.” 

        “Oh!” Her eyes grow wide as she zips up her backpack. “I could help you, if you’d like?” And gosh, does his chest pound when she leans in close and takes a peek at his schedule in front of him on the table. “You’re actually just on the second floor!” she exclaims, pointing up towards the ceiling. “I’m like ninety-seven percent sure it’s the third door on the right if you take the stairs right outside this room.” 

        Harry takes a quick mental note of her instructions before pushing out of his chair. “Thank you,” he starts, and both of them head towards the door, with her leading the way.

        Just as she takes one step outside, she suddenly turns around, and Harry nearly crashes into her. “I’ll be back for my Tupperware, Mr. N! There’s no way I’m letting you swipe another one from under my nose!” The old man waves her off and mutters something under his breath that Harry thinks might have been a “whatever you say”. Y/n looks up at him, and signals for them to continue into the hall. 

        “He’s a real sweetheart,” she says as they climb up the stairs.  

        “Who?” 

        “Mr. Noone,” she explains. “I think you’ll really like him! His classes are pretty chill for the most part and he’s super understanding, too. Like last year I had the flu for about a week and a half since my brother had gotten me sick because his whole kindergarten class had come down with for some strange reason, and Mr. N was the only teacher who didn’t have me make up any work.” 

        “Yeah?” he smiles at her. 

        She promptly shakes her head in confirmation. “Yeah! He just gave me this mini test with all the material I’d missed, and he even gave me a study guide to study off to help me with it!” Her face falls into a small frown when they stop in front Harry’s next class. “Oh, well I guess this is you.” She digs her foot into the marbled floor as she peeks into the room. “It was nice talking to you, Harry! I’ll see you around!” she says with a more upbeat tone. 

        “Bye, and thanks again for helping me get to class. It probably cut down the anxiety time by at least two minutes,” he confesses, a slight blush spreading around the area of his nose. She smiles before heading her own way, and he doesn’t know why he feels this sudden decline in his mood as she grows further and further. He just stands there, watching her walk down the corridor while the rest of the students laze into the classroom. Just as he’s about to head in, he chances one last look in her direction, and it’s just in time see her looking over her shoulder. 

***

        Harry’s managed to make himself a new friend in Debate class. His name is Max, and he’d been a transfer student from JW the year before Harry had started attending. They bonded over that, as well as a mutual love for movies made during the Classical Hollywood period (they’ve even made plans to watch a Hitchcock film this weekend), and even how they live in the same neighborhood –– a few streets apart, to be more specific!

        “I think it’s cool that you have an accent,” Max says to him as they stop at Harry’s locker before heading to lunch. Harry empties out his books from his first three classes. It’s no wonder his back had been aching, he’d forgotten to take out his US Politics textbook, and he doesn’t even have that class today. He’d had a free (also with Max) before this, and he’d managed to finish up all the readings and homework for history and biology that are all due tomorrow. He likes to be efficient with his time, especially when the teachers start putting on a heftier workload. “Did you see how all those girls freaked when you introduced yourself? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it!”

        “Everyone has an accent, mate. It’s just mine sounds a lot different from yours.” Everyone in Debate had freaked over the way he spoke, and as Max had pointed out, it had garnered a lot of attention from some of the girls in class. 

        “No need to get all technical with me. You have a gift, my friend. Use it wisely.” Harry shuts his locker, and the two continue towards the cafeteria. This morning, Anne had packed him his favorite roast beef and swiss on rye, a tradition on the first day of school that they’ve kept since he was small. Although, Max had been going on about how amazing the food here was, which is hard to believe that any school lunch can be anything but subpar, so he may have to test that out, as well. On the way there, they turn into a hallway, and are immediately hit with a sweet-smelling aroma of cinnamon and brown sugar.

        Harry stops just outside the door, humming happily to himself as he pictures whatever magic is happening on the other side. “Kitchen?” He points in its direction with his thumb.

        “Home economics room,” his friend smirks. “A friend spends a hell of a lot of time in there. She’s a really good baker, I can’t even count how many of her lemon bars I’ve had since I started going here.” 

***

        Y/n is late for lunch, but it’s really not her fault! She got caught up in decorating a cake with fondant roses and fancy piping that she been working on all period long because she wanted to impress Miss Genevra with a new technique that she had learned at a baking seminar she’d taken over the summer. And it turned out nearly perfect (there was one flower that looked a tad lopsided, but only Y/n fussed over it), and the flavor was just as impressive. 

        All that aside, she now only has about ten minutes left to buy lunch and scarf it all down before her Pattern J starts, and she still has to stop by her locker to get her art kit and sketchbook, not to mention she has to make time to hound Mr. N for her Tupperware back, or else her dad will throw another fit. 

        So, she quickly grabs a Snapple and a basket of chicken tenders from the hot rack, then brings it all to the cashier. A woman, about forty years old sits on her stool, and smiles at Y/n as she approaches. “Hi, Layla!” Y/n greets her, handing her over a crisp ten-dollar bill. “How was your trip to Ecuador? I’m sure Benny and Sammy loved it!” Benny and Sammy are Layla’s twin boys that Y/n babysits from time to time when Layla and her partner go out for a date night. They’re about her brother’s age, so Mason is always so happy when she brings him along to their house for an impromptu playdate. 

        Layla smiles, handing back her change of four dollars and fifty cents. “They did! Thanks for asking, sweetheart.” She stares down at her watch, then gives the young girl a knowing look. “Now you better finish that up before your next class. I think I saw Maxxie sitting somewhere in the back.”

        “Oh, thanks for the heads up! And by the way...” Y/n looks into her bag and pulls out a stack of fudge bars neatly wrapped in tin foil. “The boys’ favorite! Made fresh today.”  

        “Ah! You’re just an angel, aren’t you?” Layla gushes before sending her on her way. 

        Y/n searches for Maxxie’s mop of dirty blonde hair as she maneuvers around all the busy tables. They’d met a few years ago, and she considers him to be one of her best friends. He’d texted her earlier saying he’d be bringing a friend to sit with them at lunch, and that he was totally cute and had a smile that would surely make her weak at the knees. Think Zach Anderson, but 100x better, his message had read. She smiles widely when she sees him. 

        “So, last night I saw this movie made in like the 40s and I totally got this ince-” She cover his eyes with her hands and does her best to bite back the erupting giggles.

        “Guess who?” 

        “Well, you smell strongly of vanilla and...” He takes a long whiff through his nose. “...and...is that orange zest?”

        “Lemon, but close enough, I guess.” Y/n takes the empty seat on his right. Maxxie leans in for a hug, and only then does she notice the familiar company. 

        “Hey, you! I was beginning to think you’d drowned in a tub of frosting or something,” he jokes, picking something out of her hair before settling back. He turns to his left. “This is-”

        “Harry,” she says it like it’s a dream. Gosh! When she’d met him earlier, she did everything she could to stay with it, when all she really wanted to do was scream into a pillow about how unrealistically green his eyes are. Instead, she thinks she might have overshared some details with a complete stranger because regardless of how cute she thinks he is –– and that’s very much –– she doesn’t know one thing about him besides his name. 

        “Y/n, hi,” Harry replies just as whimsically. They hold eye contact for a while, but as Y/n feels the heat begin to rise from her neck to her cheeks, she soon turns away and begins to pick at her chicken, while Harry bites his lips inward and looks down into his lap to check his phone. 

        The boy in between them looks back and forth between the two. His eyebrows rise to his forehead and his mouth parts slightly in confusion. 

        “So... I’m guessing you’ve met?”

***

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Persephone | John Wick x Reader (One)

Words: 2262

A/N: Just an idea that popped in my head at three am. What is sleep haha. I might post a few oneshots that are related to this one, not sure if I want to make it into a proper series, given the other wips I have. Depends on how I feel, I guess. Let me know what you guys think.

Warning: Usual JW-verse violence, reader is also an assassin

-

Now teamed up with the Bowery King to take down the High Table, John Wick still needed allies that were willing to risk their lives to help their mission. There weren’t many that would want to oppose the High Table, so their options were limited. John took the time to heal up while they planned High Table’s downfall, using the Bowery King’s people to scout for other assassins.

“There is another option,” the Bowery King said, leaning back in his chair.

John took a swig of bourbon and raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Persephone,” he grinned. John recognized that name, not just from the Greek mythology, but of the assassin that nickname belonged to. The Bowery King continued, “I’ve heard she’s in a tough situation right now, though. Wanna know why one of the most deadliest assassins in the world have been out of business this whole time?”

“I assume you’re going to tell me anyways,” John said, his pitbull having jumped on his lap.

“A puppet is useless when it realizes they no longer needs strings to move. She started asking questions and knowing what they’ve created, her people… restrained her. She’s constantly being monitored, none of my people had seen her alone. It seems that she’s lost her memory.” The Bowery King shook his head at the woman’s situation.

“Why not kill her?”

“They’ll probably want to use her again. It’d be a waste to throw away the skills they gave her. All they can do is have her forget she even has them until the time came to utilize her, have her dependent on those strings again.” He tilted his head and looked at John. “And you’re gonna have to be the one to cut those strings for her, John Wick.”

-

You could vaguely remember your family. At that point, you couldn’t even remember their faces, only the feeling that they gave you; warmth, love, comfort. You were raised along with other kids to be killers. With a cutthroat regime that mirrored ballet, the Instructor, a former student of The Director, would continuously run drills and eliminate those who couldn’t keep up.

You were one of the few that made it and it wasn’t simply through determination or strong work ethic. You were scared. No one knew what happened to those kids that were eliminated, maybe it was literal, but you didn’t want to find out. It was surviving through fear, until you were strong enough to overcome it. If they killed you, fine. If they didn’t, then what?

Execute the mission, no mistakes. Like a ballet recital.

The missions and the training were the only life you knew. The targets you were assigned to were only pieces to a massive puzzle to the world that you were raised in. Eventually, you had enough to make out an image. The Underworld where highly trained assassins were everywhere. There was a system, strict rules to follow.

You were familiar with the Continental, the hotel you and many others used while working, and the coins used to gain access to the serves that the Underworld provided. You eventually became familiar with the other faces at the Continental and around you.

One in particular stood out. The Boogeyman. The man, the myth, the legend. You ran into him a few times when he was still active, a tall man with a calm demeanor. It was like standing next to an ocean around him. Many respected him and even feared him due to his reputation of being Death himself. You couldn’t imagine the Underworld without John Wick.

Until he got out.

The night of his impossible task was the same night you made a difficult decision. For a long time, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to escape the hands of the Instructor until you were skilled enough to overpower her, so you waited.

Using your resources, you found out what happened to your family. They owed a debt to the Instructor and they paid it off with their daughter. If it had stopped there, you could move on, but it didn’t. The Instructor had them killed anyways, using the trainers and a few of the older trainees to do the job. They knew and they kept it from you.

Life under the Instructor was all you knew and you could continue as if you never knew your family’s demise or you could release yourself from her hold and make sure it never happens to anyone else.

John Wick stormed through the building looking for the Instructor, but there were already bodies scattered around the place, either unconscious or dead with their throats sliced open. You tried to avoid using loud weapons, preferring stealth so as to not alert everyone at once and especially the Instructor. Although it would have been considered sloppy to leave unconscious bodies on your part, you had no quarrel with everyone under the Instructor, only the ones ordered to kill your family. Besides, you knew of the ones that were reluctant to follow orders and killed off those who followed without question.

There was a trainer that you had been close with and took you under her wing. She’d push you to train harder and had faith that once you think you’ve reached your full potential, you could push even higher. And all that time, she hid that secret about your family. She was the leader of that mission, after all.

You saved her for last. It wasn’t as satisfying as you thought it would be. She knew the day was going to come when you find out and she was ready for it. With the blade she gave you for your initiation, you fought her until you had her pinned down, running the blade through her throat. She choked on her own blood, a smile on her face. A shiver would have ran down your spine you hadn’t known how much of a relief it might have been for her. Maybe she wanted out, too.

The door slammed open and the Boogeyman appeared, his gun raised. You stood up slowly, your hands in the air with your blade on the floor. He kept the barrel trained on you and you were glad he hadn’t shot on sight. It would have been over quickly, but you wanted to be the one to turn the Instructor in.

“The Instructor should be holding up in her office, fourth floor,” you said, slowly taking a golden coin from your pocket and holding it out to him,“just let me go. My other targets weren’t home. I need to go get them.”

He seemed to mull it over in his head and ultimately lowered his gun. He held out a hand as you tossed the coin to him. John nodded a thanks towards you and headed over to the fourth floor.

That was the last time you saw John Wick. Unfortunately, the others were ready and so was the Instructor. Her last mission was to wipe you clean, drug you until you can’t remember a thing. And while John Wick was able to finish his impossible task, the Instructor’s remaining people were able to finish their mission as well.

-

It was hard to believe that the young woman that he saw take down assassins from her former home was running a flower shop. Then again, he did the impossible and got out of the Underworld until he was forced back in again.

There was always another worker with you, even on your lunch breaks. Whoever took over for the Instructor was placing a tight hold on you.

John waited until the last customer walked out, five minutes before closing. He walked towards the shop and slipped in before the door closed. You were busy sorting out inventory to notice his presence, your coworker hovering close by you.

Ever since you woke up in a strange bedroom with people you didn’t recognize, they told you that you were in an accident and they were your found family after you ran away from home. In fact, the flower shop was theirs but they gave it to you to run. You were thankful that they took care of you while you recovered, but you would appreciate it if they gave you some space to figure yourself out alone. You haven’t even bothered telling them your strange dreams, either. They were cold and violent and worst of all, you were the one holding the blade.

“Mari, can you double check the boxes we have in the back so we could update the inventory list?” you asked your coworker. She pursed her lips then nodded, grabbing another clipboard with a copy of the list and headed towards the storage.

You breathed out a sigh of relief, already feeling lighter once she left the room. You walked to the front to close up when you jumped, seeing a tall man in a suit waiting.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the door,” you told him, putting your clipboard down and walking towards the counter, “Can I help you?”

Upon closer inspection, the man’s brown eyes seemed tired but alert, his long black hair just above his shoulders. He was quite handsome that you could barely look him in the eye, and surely a man like that would have already been taken.

The corner of his lips turned up slightly. “I was looking for you, actually,” he said smoothly, pulling out an object from his suit jacket.

You watched him cautiously, inching closer to the counter where Marion kept the small handgun. You didn’t like to use guns, you didn’t like the sight of them for some reason, but Marion insisted on keeping one at the store.

He took out a golden coin and held it out. You grabbed it from his large hand and inspected it, the engraving feeling strangely familiar to you under your finger pads.

“Do it!” a voice hissed in your head, the image of a woman choking on blood, the strong iron stench hitting your nose and soaking into your hand that held some kind of dagger.

You dropped the coin, backing away from the man. “Who are you?” you demanded.

He held out his hands. “My name is John Wick,” he said, “And I’m here to help you, Persephone.”

“Persephone…”

“Persephone, again!” an older woman shouted. She stood in front of a wall of mirrors with her hands on her hips, staring down at you, your feet aching and sweat pouring down your face. “Get up!”

“You’re asking to be killed, Mr. Wick,” Marion spat, suddenly at your side with a gun in her hand. “There’s a heavy price for your head, it’d be a shame to have been hidden from the High Table for so long, only to be killed in a flower shop.”

“Mari, what are you doing?” you asked, shocked that she knew the man.

“I always knew the Instructor favored you, but to have kept you alive and have us babysit you even after she’s dead was too much.”

Marion gripped your forearm, nails digging into your skin. You gasped, a strong sense of betrayal taking over you as the flight or fight response kicked in. She had never treated you this way before and it didn’t take much to understand that something was wrong. More flashes of your past flew through your mind, particularly when Marion mentioned the Instructor.

Your hands shot out, twisting her arm and knocked the gun out of her hand. She stumbled on the crates on the floor, your surprise attack leaving her stunned. You used her momentary imbalance to grab her hair from the roots and slammed her forehead against the counter, knocking her unconscious. You dropped her and stepped back, your hands shaking as you start to sweat.

“What did I do, what did I do,” you began to mumble over and over.

John gave you a moment, locking the front door and flipping the sign, moving around you to turn the front lights off. You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, gripping the counter for support as the headache and nausea start to settle. John picked up the coin and carried Marion’s body to the back office then got a cup of water from the small breakroom. He set the paper cup in front of you and took the time to scan the area, pulling the blinds down. 

When you came to, you took a sip of water and shuffled yourself over to where John stood, your eyes stinging from the tears that didn’t seem to stop. You sniffed, quickly wiping them away, your head still sore from the occasional flash of an old memory in your head. Your phone had been buzzing during that time, several missed calls from your so-called family. You turned off your phone and stuffed it back in your pocket.

“Thank you,” your voice cracked as you spoke to him, “but why?”

John sighed, silently assessing your current state. “I need your help, but first, we need to leave. They’ll be coming after us soon.”

He held out a hand for you to take, letting you make the choice to go with him. You may not have all of your memories back, you recognized him enough to know that going with him would mean gaining your independence and actually finding out who you were. You grabbed his hand and he lead you through the back entrance and through the streets, all the way down below the city, back to the Bowery King.

You were back in the Underworld, but at least you were not alone.