#and the case became fairly public

[transmascanakin]

Varmibros AU explained.!

(aka the au where Chris Varmitech is a detective whos hired by Martin to solve the case of his missing brother)

The whole thing begins with the Varmitech family, who have been villains for generations and generations. The family is cultishly obsessed with villainy and anyone who doesnt follow the tradition is pushed out of the family, who will later seek revenge on the outcast, and this is how the kidnapping of Chris happened. Generations ago the Kratt family were also Varmitechs, until someone broke out of the cycle, broke contact with the family, changed their name and lived a normal life which of course angered the Varmitechs to no end. The responsibilty of taking revenge on the Kratts fell on Zachs mom, Ivette Varmitech, who decided to take the family's youngest son and raise him as their own to set their bloodline back on the track of villiany.

(i am honestly not a huge fan of this part of the plot idk the kratts and varmitechs being related is so weird but I dont really have a better reason for why theyd take Chris so! This remains for now)

From the Kratts point of view Chris just goes missing mysteriously and no search party or investigator can turn him up. His case goes cold too fast and it really strains their small family. Martin, who was really close with his little brother is forced to grow up alone, being left with the lingering feeling of emptiness (wow thats really deep. !!)

Meanwhile Chris is hidden from public eye until around his teen years, with the excuse of his unstable mental state (which is actually kinda true cause like. Taking a 3 year from his family is traumatic even if you brainwash him into thinking those memories arent real) and at around the age of 17 he starts to join Zach on smaller villain missions but these are just some easier robberies. Hes actually fairly good at stealing and being stealthy but when Zach invented some more serious stuff and began using animals to power his inventions it disgusted him, and he grew even more distant with Zach, and also started putting less effort into anything he had to do as a villain, especially after he had to take a more aggressive role, fighting off and distracting anyone who tries to stop Zach (this is when he starts using the Zach-bot looking costume that hides his identity. The vest also gives him 2 robotic arms) and this is how he gets to know the tortuga crew, who are extremely similar to their canon versions, with the absence of Chris of course. (The crew knows Zach has a brother but dont know that hes behind the mask of his right hand-man who they nicknamed the crawler)

Anyways, unlike Zach, Chris' main focus is not the villain business. He became a detective, as this is like the only thing his parents let him do that he actually loves. But one day, he gets a strange call. Martin Kratt, one of his brother's biggest enemies, a man that he himself had to face many times in his villain disguise, wants Chris to take on the case of his missing brother. Hes immediately suspicious, thinking its just a coverup and Martin actually wants to get some information about Zach or something, but after meeting up with Martin he realises hes very serious about wanting to hire him to do the investigation. He looks at the unsolved case of Chris Kratt, a 3 year old who went missing without barely any trace almost 20 years ago, and despite knowing that he probably wont be able to turn up anything new for Martin, whos convinced that against all odds his brother is still alive, Chris decides to take the case.

Martin is quick to help Chris in the investigation, and he is surprised to discover that the detective is the opposite of Zach in a lot of ways. Unlike his brother, Chris seems to love animals and has a respectable knowledge about them, and just like Martin, he also has his experience with complicated familial relationships, and the two of them grow close while digging themselves deep into the investigation. (And yeah maybe Chris reminds him of his brother, maybe he just wants to protect Chris from his dubious brother and parents, or maybe he feels connected to him in a way he cant name)

Meanwhile Chris faces the internal struggle of wanting to stay friends with Martin, but also knowing that hes secretly the villain who Martin has to fight every now and then, and he feels extremely guilty for decieving him, but hes too scared to tell him because of his major abandonment issues, but he also cant stop being a villain due to the pressure his family puts on him. So now he has to miraculously solve the case of Martins brother, while he actively tries to keep his identity a secret, and tries to avoid Zach, whos always happy to remind him that no matter how morally superior Chris feels hes still lying to the tortuga crew and that he better stop this little game of his before their parents find out, or before the crew discover his identity...

(If anyone has any questions for the au feel free to drop them in my ask box .!!)

[thesimpirediaries]

hello! can I request a kenma fic? Kenma doing little things in a relationship, since i hc him that his love language is act of service. Thank you.

✍️: omg yes! a headcanon that I can 1000% get behind! and it’s one that fits our beloved little pudding head so well! this is actually my first time writing anything for this little bean, so thank you so much for the req!

⚠️: gn!reader (no real bodily descriptors, you can imagine reader however you want), slightly suggestive themes, relationship headcanons, domestic headcanons, fluff, minor language

word count: 0.8k

Kenma has a few secrets that he keeps tucked close his heart — ones that even Kuroo doesn’t know about.

One of these such secrets is that, deep in his soul, Kenma is a hopeless romantic. The other, which ties fairly closely to the ‘hopeless romantic’, is that, with the right person, Kenma can fall hard and fast.

And you certainly were the right person.

Falling in love with you came as naturally easy as breathing to Kenma — the only hurdle he faced was his inability to communicate these feelings verbally. Bless his soul, he certainly tries; but even the occasional murmured ‘I love you’ here and there feels like a monumental emotional drain to him.

It’s far easier, and, in his mind, far more effective, to convey those feelings through actions — big and small.

Small, seemingly innocuous gifts — ones bought, crafted, or found by him;

��Just found it there, don’t think too much into it.”

“It reminded me of you, and it didn’t cost much, so…”

“This is your favorite color, right? Makes sense that you should have it…”

Sometimes, Kenma doesn’t think it’s much — he certainly didn’t in the beginning. But to you, those small gifts were everything; and you kept them locked tight in your room, tucked into your heart and held fast in your memory forever.

And over time, those small gifts grew, increasing in depth as Kenma’s feelings deepened.

You have a headache? Kenma is rushing to the nearest cabinet to grab a bottle of pain relievers — and if there’s none in the immediate vicinity, he’s darting to the nearest store to buy some with his own allowance.

Your feet are hurting? Soak them in some water then lay back on the bed (or the nearest soft surface.) Kenma will massage them until they’re nothing but relaxed puddles.

These massages extend to any part of your body that may be tense or achy. It wasn’t something he was entirely comfortable with in the beginning, but as the two of you grew closer and more familiar with one another, they became one of his favorite ways to become physically intimate with you.

Not to mention he has the hands of a god — probably due to his position and training as a setter.

It had taken a while, but at some point, Kenma had even grown to enjoy cuddling. It had started off small — fingers brushing against one another on the bed, shoulders touching, leaning into one another; until eventually, the two of you had grown to the point that within minutes of entering his room, you’d be nothing but a tangled pile of limbs atop his bed, sharing mingled breaths and inhaling one another’s scent.

Kenma enjoys it the most when you’re lying half way atop him, your ribs holding his thighs open and your cheek smushed into his stomach. It’s his favorite position to be in as he blasts spaceships to rubble within his PSP game.

Being the hidden hopeless romantic he is, Kenma believes firmly in opening doors, paying for meals, and every other thing that’s considered chivalrous — so even if you have the yen in your pocket, don’t even reach for it.

That’s how all of your dates go down — the ones in which public appearances are involved, any way. In most cases, Kenma is far more comfortable simply indulging in a movie marathon in his room (even better, a game marathon), but he sees the way you absolutely glow when the two of you spend an evening at the movies or a restaurant; and there’s no way Kenma would take that away from you. You’re the most ethereal when you’re happy and content.

And that’s all Kenma wants — to make you happy and content.

There’s nothing that swells his heart more than the sparkle in your eyes when he presents you with a gift, or the little affectionate squeeze you give his hand when he finds the bravery to slip it into yours. The way your lips pull into that dazzling smile as you gaze at him as if he quite literally hung the moon — Kenma is quick to realize that making you happy is what makes him happy.

And so Kenma observes you closely, continuously, gauging reactions and tucking the information away for safe keeping. He ensures that he displays his devotion to you in any way he can — surprise gifts, surprise dates, hell, he even gets you your favorite sweets; and, even more surprisingly, if he can’t buy them, he makes them.

Kenma isn’t the type to over exert himself. He doesn’t like the feeling or smell of sweat, and he doesn’t like the heaviness in his limbs after practice. But for you… he’d sweat all day, every day. He’d do anything just to make you happy.

Kenma would go out of his way to ensure that smile, to see your eyes glisten as you stare at him. It’s what makes him happy. It’s what he loves.

Kenma loves you, and loves making you happy. And until the day the world stops turning, he will bend over backwards to adore you and make you happy.

[dcdreamblog]

Seeing you talk about the Crimson Avenger reminded me, what can you tell us about the Seven Soldiers of Victory? I’ve seen different article talk about different members and the number don’t always add up. I’ve seen something about a guy named the Spider, one article even says TNT and Dyna-Mite were members!

And sometimes there’s eight of them?

Oh you will regret this. I actually did my thesis on the 7 Soldiers (Specifically ABOUT the historical mysteries of their membership), you can see on the selfie they posted that I have a decal for them on my phone. This question is a big one. So let's cover what we know...

(Group Photo of the 7 Soldiers from the Squadron's '43 Yearbook. I have cut out the members on the left for rhetorical purposes) This is what I would call the 5 core, inarguable members of the 7 Soldiers.

Crimson Avenger: Lee Travis, newspaper publisher, the first mystery man (Fun fact, because of the drastic difference in costuming. It wasn't until after Travis' death that it was confirmed this Avenger and the original Avenger were the same person) Shining Knight: Sir Justin, displaced knight from the Arthurian era Vigilante: The rider of the purple sage. Frontier mystery man secretly country-western artist Greg Saunders Star-Spangled Kid and Stripesy: Industrial heir Sylvester Pemberton and his bodyguard/chauffeur Patrick Dugan. This is the easy part. Below is the hard part.

Two core team members weren't counted for unfortunately obvious reasons for the era...

(Crimson Avenger and Wing at a Squadron Function in 1942) Wing How, the Crimson Avenger's chauffeur and later confidante/sidekick. A Chinese immigrant to Travis' native New York

(Vigilante and Stuff riding down the streets of Independence, MI. 1940) Stuff, The Chinatown Kid. AKA Danny Leong. Another Chinese immigrant this time adopted by country western star Greg Saunders, secretly The Vigilante How and Leong, being Chinese "tag alongs" which was already a loaded trope by the 1940s were often treated more like accessories than real members of the team by media and the public. If you want to know the other 2 soldiers that were on the team when it was founded to lend it that name. Its those two. But it got more complicated than that. 2. The 7 Soldiers gained new members during the War but their name never changed

(TNT and Dyna-Mite at the DC Courthouse after receiving a medal from the city) TNT and Dyna-Mite, DC natives and perhaps the most personally popular superheroes who were not members of the Justice Society during the War years. Owing to their personal popularity in the nation's capital. WHEN they became members of the Soldiers is unknown but they were inducted by December of 1941 at the latest as they partcipated in the "Black Star" case It is unknown whether or not Dyna-Mite remained associated with the team after TNT's tragic death in the line of duty in early 1942. And then there's..him...

(The Spider, glimpsed on the edge of a billboard in his native St Louis) The Spider, AKA Thomas Hallaway. For fairly obvious reasons is no longer concerned part of the superhero community. He was, in fact, an unrepentant criminal who used the cover of a superhero persona as an alibi. It wasn't until post war that his treachery was discovered when he attempted to assassinate both Jay and Joan Garrick, losing his life in the attempt under mysterious circumstances. In the modern day it was discovered that The Spider himself was responsible for the 7 Soldiers' disappearance post war, having been in cahoots with perennial enemy The Iron Hand. The Soldiers were scattered through time and only recovered during one of the early cases of the Justice League, leading to the heroic sacrifice of Wing How to save the lives of his teammates When he became associated with the Soldiers is unknown and he is retroactively cast out from his membership in the Soldiers specifically and the All Star Squadron in general save for the most dry of historical perspectives. Conclusion: If you want me to answer who the "7 Soldiers" were. To me (noting that this is a personal opinion, not a historical fact). It's The Crimson Avenger, Wing, Vigilante, Stuff, Shining Knight, Star Spangled-Kid and Stripesy. With knowledge that TNT and Dyna-Mite were also members because what's in a name anyway? The Spider, by his own action has been stricken from any claim to any membership of any heroic organization.

[the-bonfires-ember]

if you are gonna claim that when you describe your abusers as 'Narcissistic' abusers that you arent stigmatising NPD im gonna need you to reevaluate how you are using that word.

because from what ive seen theres big trend in abbreviating 'narcissistic mother' to 'Nmother' or something like that and i gotta say adding a capital N is fucking weird and definitely leads to an assumption that you are talking about someone with NPD because yknow, its only capitalised like that when its written down in the context of Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

but regardless of that, if you cant hear someone tell you 'hey, you shouldnt use that word like that, it stigmatises a mental health disorder' and then reply with "yOuRe InVaLiDaTiNg My TrAuMa/YoUrE gAsLiGhTiNg mE So YoU aRe A NaRcIsSiSt ToO" or all of that - which, ftr I have seen someone do - maybe you arent as empathetic as you like to think you are, which makes you no different from me.

actually, i lie. it makes you WORSE then me because at least i am able to listen to people tell me that im hurting someone and correct the behaviour without taking it like a personal attack.

and to the people that are like 'oh it meant this BEFORE NPD even became a diagnosis so its not actually a problem'. WRONG. before NPD, it meant self centred and admiration of onseelf. thats what the narcissus myth was about. he fell in love with his reflection and died staring at it. then Byron was like, maybe lets throw egotistical nature into it too. so now that was a part of it. Freud did as Freud does and made it a sex thing but thats fairly irrelevant. the first proper case study was in 1925 and the book that propelled it into public consciousness was published in 1979 and he was basically just complaing that the world was different to the 50s. But it was only when bloggers and social media bitches started using it that manipulation became a part of the definition of the word. so fuck off with that shit.

besides, given how the words meaning has changed so much even in just the last century, how can you possibly argue that we cant change it now to be more considerate to Narcissists who just want to stop being stigmatised?

narcissistic abuse is not real. you mean emotional abuse or just abuse at all, you dont need a fancy word for it, because it the basic boring standard of abuse to begin with. its not special because it came from your parents or whatever. its just abuse and i went through it too.

the only reason you arent a narcissist and i am is because you got lucky and i didnt.

stop making it worse and just listen to us ffs

[sparklypepper]

@hungarianmudkip69 recently asked @vaspider about the spread of HIV. The excellent discussion there focused largely on qualitative aspects, notably what was going on socially in the 1970s and 80s, HIV's subtlety and long incubation periods, and exponential growth (along with a great refutation of accidental needle sticks as a dominant vector).

I've got a math and physics background - I have some extremely relevant intuition, but I still prefer being able to find real-world numbers to confirm that I haven't misapplied it. I encourage checking out all the links in this post; there's a lot of great information!

We can't literally go back in time and test everyone for HIV, but it is possible to model and estimate, e.g. this 2021 report from the CDC (US-only).

The second graph of figure #2 is very close to what we discussed:

(MMSC is male-to-male sexual contact and IDU is injection drug use; see the article for other details.)

Again, these are estimates, so we can't take the exact numbers as fact, but let's look at the big picture. HIV likely first arrived in the US around 1970; it first gained public attention in 1981, when the CDC reported cases of what we now call AIDS. At that point, the estimate is an order of magnitude of tens of thousands of HIV infections.

The original asker was interested in the behavior of a "patient zero" (see also "Debunking the Myth of Patient Zero", an excellent video linked in that thread). These numbers help us see how little effect one hypothetical person's behavior could have had on the end result. As long as the virus was transmitted at all, it was going to reach the highest-risk populations eventually, and spread once there, whether it took one hop or ten. It was also essentially impossible to notice the pattern and infer the existence of HIV/AIDS in the US until multiple people in the same community developed AIDS and contracted unusual infections - which most likely means that it's reached that high-risk population, and ten years have passed.

Tens of thousands of infections is simply the result of exponential growth during those ten years; stopping it from becoming an epidemic would've required everyone's behavior to have changed. Different behavior, different transmission, different number of hops early on would more likely have changed how long it took to spread widely enough to become noticeable, not whether it did. (An unfortunately familiar concept, in the year 2023.)

The authors also mention that "trend data comparing subpopulations is likely to be robust for each period examined", so let's look back at those individual lines. Injection drug use (IDU) actually was a fairly significant means of transmission by the 1980s, and by the mid-80s, the spread among gay/bi men (MMSC) was beginning to decline. At the end of the decade, IDU may even have passed MMSC. Simultaneously, transmission was still rising among straight people. It shouldn't be too surprising that straight sex became significant; there are rather a lot of straight people!

The CDC also has us covered for a more current picture, as of 2017-2021 in the US:

This does vary greatly by country. Notably, as of 2022 in England, 49% of new diagnoses were among heterosexuals, compared to 45% among gay/bi men. (Do keep in mind that there are far more straight people, so still, a far higher fraction of gay/bi men were diagnosed.)

I personally find that I get the best understanding when I'm able to combine some direct evidence/data with an understanding of the history and social forces; hopefully this piece helps at least one person out in that way!

[Finally, as a footnote: trans women also exist (hi I'm one) and have historically been at high risk. I am unsure to what extent trans women are omitted versus misgendered in the above data. I wanted to focus on historical estimates over time here, and unfortunately wasn't able to find that for trans women, but this review article links to and summarizes some data from two meta-analyses.]

[fillinforlater]

Dayeons Disciplinary Diary

Male Reader x Kim Dayeon (ft. Chaehyun, Xiaoting)

Length: 5794 words

Tags: disciplinary sex, sex as punishment, humiliation, degradation, sex in front of others, filming sex, humiliation kink, public sex kink, bratty idol, rough sex, dubious consent, getting threatened kink, facefuck, cum shot, anal, pearly gates sort of, teasing, sweaty sex, standing sex, full nelson, mentions of choking and spanking, a mating press and cock addiciton, angry sex, brat!Dayeon / strict!You

TW: it's better you read the tags tbh, but you can already leave if you dislike humiliation, degradation or dubious consent

Credit: @midnightdancingsol for editing

Inspiration: A cutie send me a rough idea and after months, I was able to come up with sth. I hope you read this <3

“Maybe.”

New job, old problems. 

The five oldest members of the famous girl group Kep1er are supposed to debut as a separate sub-unit. As someone with a lot of experience in planning, training, and preparing you were chosen as an external coach to give advice and guide the fairly inexperienced team. It’s a new task, sure, but the problems remain the same. So far, so unspectacular.

The issues however started the moment you left the first meeting and looked at the girls schedule: in between the usual variety shows and photoshoots they have dance practice for a full group comeback after the sub-unit debut. It limits the time the company gives you for meetings, vocal sessions—literally everything. 

Though a huge inconvenience, it’s nothing you can’t manage. It probably was the reason why they hired you, someone from outside the company, to deal with this in the first place. However, another aspect you were not ready for made your first problem seem like a first grader’s task.

Some of the sub-unit members, Chaehyun, Xiaoting, and especially Dayeon are very hard to keep in check. Their brattiness easily blows up a dance practice session, their delinquency disrupts entire meetings, and their obnoxious attitude consistently brings you to the edge of a tantrum. 

You’ve tried the usual methods, carrots and sticks. Over the first couple of weeks, it became obvious that no amount of carrots could help. Luckily, the company gave you extensive authority over the group. They only cared about the results, so it was time for you to switch from the carrot to the stick. 

Chaehyun was the first to be disciplined. She was mostly tagging along with her best friend Dayeon and it was mostly through her that Chaehyun got into trouble. So after only two sessions of edging and hair pulling, Chaehyun’s strong will to misbehave broke. She became diligent, not missing a single meeting and obedient, obeying every word the dance teacher says. She also became addicted to your cock, an unwanted, but amusing side effect. As long as she continues to be a good girl and give it her all, you give her what she desires. Every evening.

Xiaoting was a little bit tougher. She put up more of a fight because she wasn’t dependent on someone else to come up with a troublesome idea. If she wanted to mess up the choreography, she just did. If a meeting bored her, she would just leave. If another girl would annoy her, she would slap her. 

At first you expected her to be the worst case, but after edging her for one hour with your fingers and pounding her doggystyle, she was already whimpering. What broke her resistance entirely were the spanks on her fat thighs and ass. She later confessed that you were the first person to make her squirt—which is the reason she walks to your apartment every weekend to get her fair share of spanks.

Dayeon is still a work in progress. No edging, hair-pulling, spanking or rough fucking has made her submit to your authority. Even after she cried and whimpered in her mating-press while you slapped her tits in the morning, she would still skip the meet-ups in the afternoon. Her snarky remarks cannot be stopped, even after you fucked her face the night before. So you changed your strategy.

Five steps. Five steps to break Dayeon’s brattiness. 

Day 1: Take a picture!

“Dayeon, my office. Now!”

She was late again to one of the meetings. Of course. It doesn’t matter today, however. It’s a perfect set up to get your plan into motion. You’ve waited for this moment since waking up. 

Dayeon trots into your office. She wears the same outfit as she did during their debut promotions: a plaid skirt, open leather jacket and black crop top. Unlike back then, her hair is now dark brown, a change of style that really suits her.

“What?” she groans in annoyance and clicks her tongue.

“Why are you wearing this? Didn’t I tell you to stick to the training outfits?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Deep breaths to calm down your nerves. Dayeon pulls out her cell phone  and with every tap on her screen your anger rises. Ten knuckles turn red as you squeeze the edge of the table, wishing to break it in half. You clear your throat and slowly ask in a threatening, deep voice:

“Dayeon, will you finally stop being such a brat? You need to be punctual, diligent, and focused on your comeback.”

Dayeon continues to type. Without looking up she snarls:

“Lol, no. What’cha gonna do about it?”

Everything happens in the blink of an eye. In uncontrolled anger, you snag her phone away, push her against your office door, and force her down on her knees. Dayeon wants to shout out something, but you press your crotch against her confused face and keep her mouth shut with your growing bulge. 

“I’ve had enough of your shit. You will soon regret being such a bitch.”

Fear and anger form in Dayeon’s eyes, but you pay them no mind. Open your zipper to free your cock. It jumps free like a loosened spring and its massive size covers Dayeon’s smooth face. Your other hand swipes across Dayeon’s phone screen and opens the camera app. You then point the camera down at the bratty girl and take your first picture. The flash blinds her for a second.

“What the fuck? Stop!”

Dayeon fights to set herself free, but her struggling hands and flailing legs are not enough to free her from your pelvis and thighs pressing her firmly against the door. You continue to take pictures from all angels to capture Dayeon with your cock over her face. She tries to hide from and interrupt you, so you grab her chestnut hair and roughly yank it. 

“Fuck you! Ah, you asshole!” Dayeon screams.

Punish her for opening it by easily gliding your cock into her mouth. It not only cuts off her screams, but also oxygen supply. Immediately, you begin to facefuck her against your door, loud thuds rhythmically echo around your spacey office. 

“No, “ you hiss, as rage fuels each of your thrusts into Dayeon’s face, “you’re the asshole, Dayeon. You will pay for your bitchiness. Smile for the camera, whore!”

Flashes rain upon Dayeon’s face as tears and drool spills down in copious amounts. Whines and gags would do perfect for a lewd audio to relieve your stress later. Her orbs are glistening messes, her drool makes the sensation similar to a squirting pussy and you feel yourself climaxing quickly. 

“Shit, your mouth is tight.”

You pull at Dayeon’s hair again and her lips press down on your shaft. She is like a vacuum, sucking you roughly in. In a last second effort, you pull out and unload a huge, angry load all over her features. Cum pools or trickles down from her forehead, eyes, nose, lips, cheeks, chin. Not one inch stays uncovered and not one thing stays undocumented. Hundreds of pictures, and you are eager to take even more.

“F-fuck, ah, you ass—” Dayeon’s first words after getting her throat fucked are cut short by you slapping your cock all over her face.

“Shut the fuck up, toy. Your phone is confiscated. I expect you to be at the training tomorrow.”

A harsh yank and you bring her down to the floor, deep breaths and shocked, terrified eyes star upwards toward you. You roll your eyes and walk back to your desk, acting like nothing happened mere seconds ago, as if you didn’t just treat her like a useless fleshlight.

“Get out of my office. Now!”

##

Day 2: Make a Video!

“Dayeon! Get to the practice room right now!”

Dayeon was at the practice, but her performance was utter nonsense. The moves were offbeat or in the wrong direction and she was lacking the energy and cockiness she usually had on stage. It derailed an otherwise amazing performance by everyone, especially Xiaoting and Chaehyun who were giving it their all. 

The dance teacher became frustrated and after all her scolding was shrugged off by Dayeon, she called you. 

Now, as the day comes to an end, you ordered Dayeon to stay behind for extra dance lessons. However, when you called her into the large white room with a light brown wooden floor and a mirror wall, the dance teacher had already left. 

“What? Where the fuck is she?” Dayeon curses and turns around to you. 

“I sent her home,” you nonchalantly say while you lay down an old gymnastic mat and set up a tripod next to it. 

“And how am I supposed to practice? Don’t tell me you know the dance inside out,” Dayeon chuckled viciously while imitating what it might look like if you dance. She is giving it her best to piss you off and you are going to use the build up anger for your plan.

“We still practice together,” you say, finally finished with your setup. A camera is filming from the top of the tripod down onto the small mat. Dayeon inspects the odd looking sight and moves next to you. With a jab to the side, she cynically jokes: 

“That is not how you film a dance practice. Oppa must be retarded.”

Before she can laugh, you grab her sides and slam her onto the mat. Dayeon yelps, in shock, in pain, you don’t care. She yelps again when you pull down her black sweatpants. Her simple, white panties get pulled to the side while you immediately invade her pussy with two of your fingers. The brunette moans and tries to wiggle herself free, but you spread her legs forcefully nonetheless.

“Come on! Show the camera your pink lips.”

Her most private part is on perfect display for the camera. When Dayeon tries to cover it with her hands, you slap her pussy. The usually feisty girl becomes shy, her face read all over when you spread her labia and rub her clit.

“Covering your face doesn’t help. To everyone who might watch this, this is Kim Dayeon of Kep1er. She has a pretty cunt, doesn’t she?” “Stop! This is unfair!”

“Her pussy is pretty and of course her face as well, but her character is very rotten, so we will need to teach her a lesson.”

“Hey! What are you—no, ah!”

You lift the light girl up a little and spread her cheeks to also present her tight and twitching asshole. Dayeon tenses again. Although she is the brattiest idol you ever had to work with, it is only now that she gets her first dose of effective humiliation as punishment. 

“Look! It’s Dayeon’s ass and her cute hole. So small~”

“Oppa, no!”

Finally, you tear off her panties and get beneath her. Dayeon is now in a pearly gates position, your cock right at her rear entrance, while you groan into her ear and force her legs to spread. You notice that her thighs are wet and so you search for the source of the slick. Dayeon’s pussy is dripping wet, almost gushing out her juices.

“Don’t tell me,” you hum to her, “you like this?”

“Wh-what?”

“Being humiliated.”

One push, and your cock slides into her ass. The tight ring tenses up around your girth, but you won’t be denied. No amount of pressure Dayeon’s amazing ass extorts onto you will stop you. Slow drags with loud groans from you show the potential viewer how incredible their idol feels. The best part is, you don’t have to tell Dayeon how they would react—her imagination is already doing this part.

“N-no, I hate it!”

Dayeon hides behind the palms of her hands. What she cannot hide however are her girly moans and screeches that boom from her lips to fill the studio and reach the camera’s microphone. You gradually pick up the pace and intentionally crash your pelvis into her ass with such velocity that her skin creates waves and her mind becomes numb. 

She begins to drool from her lips and through your relentless pounding, you nibble her neck as a reward, but also a way to stimulate her more and more. Dayeon’s juices drip down to your pistoning cock and her moans become shorter in intervals and more high-pitched. She is getting close to cumming on camera.

It would be quite a sight to behold, Dayeon’s orgasmic face and body on tape, but you are far from wanting to even give her pleasure in what is meant to be a punishment, a disciplinary measure. A few final thrusts to bring Dayeon to the edge and to make her believe that she will cum, then you pull out. Your hands reach for her bottom and you lift her rear entrance towards the lens.

“Everyone, look! Dayeon is gaping! She has such a big hole, cause she is a whore!”

“Ahh!”

##

Day 3: In front of your best friend!

“Dayeon, my office! Now!” you shout into the speaker of your phone, while slamming the desk before you, “How could you miss another meeting? Didn’t I make my point clear?”

“Well, idiot oppa,” Dayeon responds harshly, “my butt hurt from what you did to me, so I couldn’t go. Your fault!”

“Get over here right now!” 

You end the call and get up from your chair. This time you had to play your anger to hide your excitement for the next stage of your plan for Dayeon. You hastily send a text message to someone who is unlike Dayeon: reliable. If your calculations are correct, they should arrive with perfect timing. 

First is Dayeon. She doesn’t knock and just barges into your room with quick angry footsteps. You lean onto your desk, arms crossed, eyebrows raised and nod towards the door.

“If you’re not gonna knock, you can at least close the damn door.”

“Fuck you, oppa,” Dayeon snippily replies and slams the door shut. The second she does so, you move to the side to unveil your desk. Unlike any other day, it’s not covered with laptops, reports, training instructions, lyrics, data and coffee mugs. This time you set up a screen which plays your and Dayeon’s video from a couple of days ago, while pictures of her either getting facefucked or assfucked lay across the wooden surface. 

“You sick fuck!”

Dayeon scrambles to grab as many pictures as she can find. Each one she lifts reveals a handful of new ones, obscene positions of her on the gymnastic mat or pressed against your door, your cock stuffing her holes. 

You don’t just sit back and watch the play of the panicked girls trying to get rid of the embarrassing evidence, you actually join in and snag a couple of pictures from her or throw them across the room. Like a dog Dayeon jogs towards them, curses at you and searches for a trash can, while you laugh full heartedly. 

“Dayeon, look at the screen! That’s my favorite part.”

Her face fully colored in red, Dayeon takes a look and has to relive the final scene of her porn once more: you showing her empty, twitchting hole while she is begging for an orgasm. 

“You assh—”

“Oppa, you wanted to—oh my Gosh!”

What must feel like a torrent of peaking emotions, bouncing around in Dayeon’s mind and chest like a bouncy ball in a trampoline park, is something close to an orgasmic catharsis for you. Well, almost. This isn’t the peak after all, this is just Chaehyun, Dayeon’s best friend and bandmate, walking straight into your office and seeing everything.

The defiant brunette scrambles to hide all the nudes of her and jumps towards her friend to cover her shocked face, but it’s all for nothing. Chaehyun’s eyes are already glued to the screen, her feet mindlessly moving her towards it. Dayeon screams at the top of her lungs, flailing her arms around wildly, but Chaehyun just inches closer and closer.

“Don’t look, please! Oh my God, please, d-don’t… g-go away!”

“I-is this you, D-Dayeon?”

“Yes, it is,” you answer and cover Dayeon’s mouth with the palm of your hand. You’ve never seen someone pale of shock and red of embarrassment at the same time, so you bathe in what you have accomplished.

“Look at it closely. Isn’t her butthole cute~? The small blobs of cum oozing out? Her teary eyes while I jiggle her thighs and she likes it?”

Dayeon fights half-heartedly. Her struggle might look real to an outsider, but you feel how her muscles go weak and how she becomes hot and bothered. You don’t doubt that this is the most embarrassing moment of her life, but you also grow increasingly sure that she gets off to it. Quite a lot.

Dayeon’s isn’t the only one to get off to it though. Her bestie looks absolutely dazed by how her sparkling eyes look at the looping porn, the repeated pictures of her friend getting plowed in the ass over and over again. Chaehyun’s tongue begins to slowly slip out of her mouth along with some drool, while her hand travels down to the hem of her skirt. This is getting very far.

“S-stop, Chase, pl-please,” Dayeon begs through a gap in your fingers, but you silence her by stuffing them in her bratty mouth.

“I tend to agree,” you suddenly say, against the urge of your lower head to let this play out, “You two should really leave now.”

“What?” Chaehyun says, snapping out of her porn induced trance when you turn off the TV. You nod and push Dayeon against her. The both of them tumble and because they hold onto each other, the also both fall onto the ground, right in between pictures of Dayeon getting face fucked.

“Oh, and Dayeon: help Chaehyun carry out the trash. All of it.”

The awkward, humiliating search for every last picture is a delight for you. Dayeon and Chaehyun are too embarrassed to say a word. They just crawl on the ground and stuff everything they can find into a bin until it overflows. You play increasing annoyance by rolling your eyes when they look at you or groaning.

“Now get going! Make sure no one sees it!”

“You…!”

Dayeon’s shout is stuck in the back of her throat. Her small hands stuff the bin while Chaehyun holds it. She knows she has to walk like this to make sure that the bin can hold all of her indecent pictures. She also knows what she can do, to make all of this end. However, she stays defiant for today.

“You motherfucker!”

##

Day 4: In front of your friends!

“You did a great job today. You can leave early.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I can handle them the last half hour.”

“Thank you a lot boss!”

The dance teacher politely bows down, takes her stuff and leaves the practice room. After making sure she really is gone, you lock the door and turn towards the girls behind you. They have been dancing almost flawlessly now. It’s no surprise, their debut is in ten days and this dance had been the main focus on your schedule the last week. 

Last week was quite delightful. Everyone was at peak concentration and performance. Everyone was punctual and motivated. Everyone gave it their everything, even the delinquents. 

Xiaoting played a couple of harmless pranks which boosted the morale of the group, so you had no need to discipline her. She still went to your house on Sunday and rode you like a champion, while you smacked every inch of her body that is covered by her upcoming stage outfit. The red marks look perfect on her and when she squirts around your cock, you knew she would never be trouble for you again.

Chaehyun has been as professional as Yujin or Mashiro when it came to vocal recording and dance practice. She was super focused in meetings and nothing could distract her. However, her neediness increased tenfold after she saw the video of Dayeon and you. For the first time, she asked to be fucked in the ass and after painful minutes of getting used to it, she was begging to cum from it. Chaehyun wanted your load and you gave her a lot. She also wanted to be face fucked like Dayeon, so you wait after the recording were finished, put a collar on her with the word ‘Whore’ on it and made her cry for an hour straight. 

Dayeon however avoided you. No private meetings, no fuck session, nothing and frankly, there was no need for it. She has been reliable. Your plan is still in place if she fucks up and on this evening, you will test her. 

“Good job, everyone,” you shout while clapping. The song has just ended and four of the five girls look at you with anticipation. Only Dayeon avoids your gaze, her chest breathing heavily from hours of dancing at full speed and focus.

“Yujin,” you continue, “can you tell me what you noticed? Any big improvements or flaws?”

“Well, oppa,” Yujin starts, fidgeting lightly in her place, knowing that lying is not an option,”Chaehyun and I have finally gotten the part in the bridge right, the very tough one.”

“That is phenomenal! I saw it from behind, an impressive move.”

“A-and Xiaoting and Mashiro have been excellent as always, they make it seem effortless.”

“Very well. Anything more?”

“W-well, “Yujin stutters, looking into the large mirror wall at Dayeon, then at the parquet, then at you, “Dayeon messed up the part before the hook and the bridge twice each.”

You ponder for a second, your gaze shifting towards the brunette girl. Dayeon looks straight at you, fake innocence, but real fear in her orbs. Or is it something different that makes her look scintillating like this. She can be a very cute girl, but you have seen the real her over and over again. It’s not cute and not innocent for sure. 

“Okay then. Let’s have another round. Give it your best, everyone, especially at the hard parts. Don’t let yourself be distracted by me. Focus, okay?”

They all nod. You hit a button on a remote and the song restarts. Its fast rhythm is underlined by a quick discography right from the get go. It catches everyone’s attention and so it is important that the girls execute it flawlessly and with their usually impeccable charisma and stage presence. You of course excuse that they are somewhat tired and sweaty this evening, but you’re still ready to be a strict teacher if any mistakes happen.

The center switch from Yujin to Xiaoting is magnificent. Then a short pause hands the spotlight to Yujin and Mashiro dancing on the left and then Chaehyun and Dayeon on the right. Great execution, but then it happens. As everyone moves to their new position before the pre-chorus, Dayeon trips. Her body hits the floor and you immediately stop the music.

“Everyone, get back into position. Don’t let yourself get distracted,” you say brusquely, while stepping behind Dayeon. You yank her upwards at her arm and wrap your arm around her waist to shackle her to yourself. Via remote, you start the song once more, but the four other girls are not moving. Their shocked expressions lay on you and Dayeon.

“The song has already started! Focus, girls, focus!”

They get into rhythm hesitantly as Dayeon fights to free herself for a second. You make her freeze in shock by tearing down her shorts and simultaneously creeping your way up her torso. Your bulge rubs on her ass, covered at first, then released. She begins to realize what’s about to happen. Through the mirror you make eye contact.

No, you can’t be serious, don’t do this to me! she seems to scream with just her eyes.

You feel up her pussy to find that it’s moist and she is not stopping to get wetter. Her friends can see it. Those that are not focused enough on the choreography have already caught on and dance half-heartedly. No stage presence can cover up their shock, especially when you grab Dayeon’s hips and smash her onto your cock.

“Fuck!” Dayeon’s scream makes the lyrics become background noise. Everything except for her is uninteresting and you know that she’d want nothing more than to disappear into a deep hole. You on the other hand want to just fuck her hole, to make her red cheeks burst from the humiliation of being exposed, nude and punished for all her brattiness. To know that she can’t stand being used as a fleshlight and that each of her bandmates can see her thighs jiggle and pussy glistening is your ecstasy. 

“Ah, Oppa, no!” Dayeon moans out, her body twitching and eyes tearing up.

“O-Oppa,” Yujin stutters, “Wh-what are you do-doing?”

You look at the leader who broke the trance of disbelief first and spoke up. The furious thrusts into Dayeon’s tightness stop and you put her in a chokehold.

“I have to discipline Dayeon for messing up so much. Don’t let yourself be distracted, you’re doing great. Restart!”

The music does restart and so does your fucking. With Dayeon’s screams thoroughly choked out, she should not be able to interrupt the music. She will remain a distraction however, which is exactly why her body is in so much heat. You tear off her T-Shirt and the bra beneath, leaving the black in tatters. Dayeon might be more thrilled by this than you. 

You begin to nibble on her neck and use the mirror to watch how the four others can’t help but stare at Dayeon’s breasts bouncing along to your rhythm. Unintentionally, you have adjusted your speed to the rhythm of the title track and thus have fucked her faster than anytime before. She needs some air to keep up with it.

“No!” Dayeon screams the second you stop choking her neck, “Don’t watch! My boobs, don’t!”

Fully seated in her, like Excalibur in its rock, you stop to grope her tits and whisper into her ear. 

“Oh, you don’t want them to look at your? I can change that.”

Give her small tits a smack, then reach down to her legs. In one swooping motion, Dayeon is in a full nelson. Her pussy is now presented, like a turkey on a plate on Thanksgiving Day. You position yourself for more leverage, reach for her head and fuck to your hearts content. Dayeon cries and moans, the lewd sounds of her smooth, moist pussy not covered by the song's bridge.

You catch Chaehyun looking jealous and highly aroused. She is not even trying to have a facade of embarrassed shock like Xiaoting. You are certain the Chinese girl would love to be spanked by you in front of at least one of her friends, probably Yujin. Speaking of Yuji: she trips up everytime you change your speed. When you switched to full nelson, she even forgot her choreo for a second. Mashiro looks disturbed, sad, maybe even fearful. She is extra accurate, but her flush is ridding her of any stage presence. 

Everyone is getting into position to do the finishing pose as the song fades out. Everyone except Dayeon, who is still being bounced up and down your cock. Although she doesn’t squirt like a fire hose, her juices still spot the parquet in her delicious flavor. She is dozing off to a peak in ecstasy, when you suddenly pull out and drop her. On wobbly feed you guide her to her spot. She instinctively does the ending pose.

“Great job, guys! That wraps it up for today.”

You close your zipper and clap as five blood-filled faces stare at you, then Dayeon. The still completely naked idol scrambles to cover herself with hands, then her clothes. You teasingly grab her shorts and hold them high up, out of reach for her, but before it can develop into a playful activity, Yujin speaks up:

“O-Oppa! Y-you can’t just do that!”

“What? I needed to discipline her. You were also bothered by how distracting and lazy she was.”

“B-but not like this!”

Yujin covers her face and turns away. You drop the shorts and Dayeon reaches for them. Before she can put them on, you spread her legs to show everyone the pink of her pussy.

“Yujin, I know you probably think that Dayeon didn’t want this, but I found something out. She actually really enjoys this. Why else would she be this slick?”

You shove a finger inside Dayeon and wiggle it. The brunette can’t hold onto the clothes in her hands and begins to moan cutely. 

“I bet you hated it when I stopped and didn’t fuck you to orgasm, right?”

Dayeon shakes her head. 

“You are lying~ I bet you wished they would all stop hiding behind their hands—”

Dayeon shakes her head, slowly.

“—and watch as you squirt in front of them. You want them to watch! You like being fucked in front of people. You are an exhibitionist.”

Dayeon shakes in orgasm. 

“Yes! Look at me! Look at my pussy!”

Waves of clear liquid follow her first tsunami that splashes all over your hand and right before her friends. Xiaoting and especially Chaehyun are just standing and drooling, Yujin is a bit more apprehensive, while Mashiro tries to walk away. Through the mirror wall however, she still peeks at Dayeon trembling on your inserted fingers and squirting out every last drop. 

#

“A-are we finally done?” 

Dayeon’s question is barely audible in the night sky of Seoul. The front of the dance studio is only illuminated by the city's light pollution. White and orange light reflects off from the wall and onto Dayeon, who crouches next to you on the still warm concrete. She is the last one to leave. 

“Depends.”

After you sorted things out with Yujin, she and Mashiro went out first. The two didn’t like your method but couldn’t deny the results. Dayeon has never been more honest and lately, she was almost as obedient as a perfectly trained puppy. 

Xiaoting left as well, leaving a note that said You sicko, what the hell have you done? I want to punch you for showing this Mashiro… but also: spank my ass in front of Chaehyun or Dayeon one day, pretty please? Make it redder than my face today!

You had to force Chaehyun to leave. She was cock hungry to no end, but wanted to keep it more private. You only got her to leave after promising to make a wish come true. Before walking out the door, she kissed your cheek and whispered: Fuck my face into door, like you did to Dayeon. Then, do the things from the video with me. A whole night~

“Depends on what?”

Now, it’s only you and Dayeon. You sit down next to her, not wanting to ask to her dumb question, but unlike in the past, she didn’t sound sarcastic. Maybe she genuinely had no clue what you meant.

“Well, it depends if you finally behave.”

“I-I will! I promise to come to every meeting, learn extra hard, a-and rap—”

“Dayeon,” you say and put a finger on her quickly moving lips, “I want you to make this comeback the best thing out there. Use your skill and stage presence to blow everyone away and rock this era, okay? You’ve been getting in your own way and I can’t allow that.”

She blushes and looks away. A car passes by. Its light reflects in her brown orbs. Dayeon can be such a pretty and adorable girl, especially in a moment like this. A moment no one gets to just experience. A moment that makes you shake your head. Rule No. 1, never fall in love, even if they are perfect. Perfect idol, perfect face, perfect kinks. You can’t stumble like this.

“Don’t say this like you’re some white knight who did all these crazy things just to teach me this stupid lesson,” Dayeon giggles and pokes your cheek. You didn’t notice how close you got to her, but this was a good reminder to maybe get some distance between the two of you. Especially in public.

“You’re right. Making these videos and fucking you in front of others isn’t really knight like behaviour, but if I made you rethink your careless attitude and got you back on track, does it really matter? The means, I mean.”

Dayeon smirks and gets into a more comfortable position. Sitting on the ground, on knee up, her chin on it, the other leg stretched out. 

“You’re an idiot. What if I didn’t learn? What if I just miss the next meeting and fuck up the choreo in the last dance practice? What will you do then, Mr. White Knight?”

“I’d realize that you don’t care about your career. I’d order you into my office, remove your clothes violently and then put a choker with the word ‘Whore’ on it around your neck. On a leash, I’d guide you through the office. Everyone would see your bare body, every hole, along with your face. Randomly, I’d finger fuck you till you squirt and spank you for it.”

You get closer to her. Her breath is tickling you as she listens attentively, every sense of her body taking you in. You continue in a deeper tone.

“Imagine as they take pictures of you, videos of your ass, of the marks on your tits, of your blissful face with the choker beneath. This would not be enough. We have to go the extra mile. You know the reporters outside. When they have all gathered, I’d guide you outside and present you like a newly acquired object, before testing you. Live. The hardest thrusts that will make you squirm, scream and cum while the cameras flash and clatter. Your voice will be in the media, the greatest scandal in K-Pop history is Kim Dayeon as she screams for more cock as everyone watches.”

You stop. Her lips are close. Her thighs are close. Her smell is close. She is a heater in overdrive, her eyes barely open and her heartbeat louder than the next car passing by. She doesn’t say a word. Instead she moans. Arousal instead of fear, imagination of glorious pleasure instead of a nightmare. The greatest humiliation is in truth the greatest victory.

“I bet your idol career and public status is more important than that.”

She touches your chest. You can’t get out now. You’re stuck with her, the magnet that attracts you stronger than anyone ever has. She can’t possibly follow you on this one.

“Maybe?”

She kisses you.

“Really?”

You reach for the hem of her jeans.

“Maybe.”

(A/N: I lost the OG pic I wanted to use, but found this while searching. A very hot one, damn Dayeon)

[theboywithburninghands]

The End. I’ll post a big mushy thank you post later since I’m posting this at work, but this is the end of the story. Hope it’s good! @fernstarsblog @noble-crimson

TW: Vomit, drugs, childbirth

Epilogue: Sweet Child O’ Mine

Upon first moving to Ediacara after collecting their dowry, Pomni and Jax moved into a small house near the town of Jezioro Niedźwiedź, or the much simpler to pronounce Bear Lake. As soon as the couple had unpacked completely, Pomni set to work learning Ediacaran. Jax was admittedly skeptical about her ability to learn such a complex language so quickly, and had in fact been a bit wary of moving to Ediacara at all due to the language barrier. Pomni studied the language for eight hours every day, and could speak and write it at a conversational level in about three weeks. By their fourth month, she was completely literate, shocking just about every prospective employer she met with her heavily accented yet completely accurate Ediacaran.

Pomni began her search for an occupation as soon as she spoke enough Ediacaran. It was rough going at first. Pomni may have been quite knowledgeable about law and been articulate, but she had little experience to actually put on paper. No diplomas or references, only cases she had helped her father with. She was offered at least four jobs as a secretary, but turned them down. Such a position would only make her depressed, being at the beck and call of a man…

But she hunted tirelessly, and eventually caught her first break as a stenographer for Bear Lake’s courthouse, specifically the misdemeanor accountability court. This was where soaks who had made a nuisance in public after a fifth too many of Ediacaran red wine ended up, or children who had pilfered sweets from a chemist’s shop, or frustrated citizens who wished to dispute moving violations and truancy notices.

Pomni remained quiet and kept a stern countenance, and, despite being fairly new to Ediacaran, made precious few mistakes. Magistrates and even the judges complimented her impeccable memory, being able to repeat back transcripts that she hadn’t gotten the chance to write down yet. Her penmanship was clean and she was unfailingly polite, even to the rare belligerent defendant.

Then came the day of a high profile felony case. A Dr. Kaczmarek had been arrested on charges of selling cadavers from the local hospital to a shady medical supply company. The usual stenographer for the felony court was abruptly hospitalized after an errant kick from a horse, developing a tremor in his hand that prevented him from writing as quickly. Pomni was asked to transcribe in his place. Although the judge was skeptical of her abilities, Pomni performed remarkably well, her affect cool despite the rapid-fire speech of the magistrates or mumbled testimonies of the witnesses. The court staff, impressed by her performance, brought Mrs. Krolik on for more high profile cases, and she soon became the court’s mainstay stenographer.

In her free time, Pomni had begun work on a novel. She initially thought of penning an autobiography, but she needed to be an established author first. No one would have any interest in the life story of a stenographer, even if her life was rather interesting. So, she began a novel. It was a character study of five children of a single mother and their lives from childhood to adulthood. She was still drafting the story, having to omit a good amount of unnecessary detail from just the first chapter alone. Luckily Jax was there to read through her drafts and offer constructive criticism while on the road to recovery.

As soon as they settled into their new home, Pomni put her husband back on the process of tapering him off of opium. They only had a single bottle of laudanum left and no easy way to get ahold of it anymore, so it would be the final dosage before completely excising the drug from his life.

His symptoms resumed after reducing his dosage from a single drop of opium to a half a drop. However, they were significantly less severe. He was weak and bedridden and struggled with body aches and cold sweats, but he had thankfully ceased vomiting and was at last able to get some sleep, although he woke frequently. Pomni cared for him, bringing him vegetables from the local market, not even attempting to cook them. It would have been dreadfully inconvenient to burn their new home down after just purchasing it.

Soon, he wasn’t on laudanum at all. After two weeks without poppy, he was up and walking about. His regular countenance returned come the third week. On that Friday, Pomni went to the edge of a bridge.

“Are you ready?” Pomni asked, holding his hand.

“I am,” Jax replied. He took the half full tincture bottle out of his jacket pocket. Jax looked for a long while at the small bottle that had ruled his life for the past five years. He lobbed the bottle over the railing. It plummeted thirty feet into the rocky gulch below, bursting with a splash on a boulder.

“Goodbye, cruel mistress. You’ll bewitch this soul no longer.” Jax said, giving a short wave to the gulch.

“Did you plan that little farewell or did it come to you just now?” Pomni asked with a smirk.

“Which would be more impressive to you?” Jax replied with a smirk of his own.

Jax took on a job as well to keep the pair from exhausting their savings. He quickly found one as an accountant for a trading company that had previously worked with Krolik International. Being the son of the founder, it looked quite good on a resumé, although he was careful to omit anything about recent goings on with the company.

Jax and Pomni saw Drexl Krolik for the final time a few days before their departure to Ediacara. They returned to the Krolik Estate to collect some of Jax’s belongings, and encountered two constables from Blackshell Bay speaking with Drexl in his foyer. Jax said nothing to his father, who said nothing in return. Pomni met her father-in-law’s eyes only once. Though his gaze was incensed, his eyes were drained of the fierceness they once held. Pomni and Jax had his belongings on the carriage within an hour, thanks to assistance from Zuzanna, who had put in her two weeks' notice and was planning to start a job at The Rooker Estate.

As for Jax’s brothers, he wrote to all three regularly. Altonicus and Kali, although they did not receive the funds necessary to open their pharmacy due to Drexl’s behavior, remained as stable as ever. Alton continued his work at the hospital, and Kali started a book club, which had around a half dozen regulars, including Mirella Shutnyk.

Osvaldo was elated to be living on Primum Peccatum, free to pursue his music career. His performance at the wedding put him on the map, and he began performing original compositions at other weddings, and he had been accepted into the prestigious New Hirnantian Choral Ensemble. He flubbed his first audition due to stage fright, but conquered his anxieties for his second audition. To help with the mortgage payments, he had accepted two tenants. Dawson, the son of Lawrence, Drexl’s former business partner, happily moved in with Osvaldo. The two of them became inseparable partners, often seen around town together, and the keen-eyed had spotted Osvaldo occasionally stealing a quick kiss from his larger companion. Assuredly in a platonic way.

The other tenant was Boone, who was allowed to stay with them on the conditions that he refrain from any churlish behavior and get an occupation that would help him pay for the house. It was slow going at first, Boone applying to many jobs in several different trades. Although he was politely declined positions at the fire brigade and The Gray Church, he found that he was a rather gifted editor. He got a job at a small ad agency, finding minuscule details to fix in ad copy or business documents. His ever-drifting focus was curbed somewhat by caffeine tablets prescribed to him by his eldest brother. He struggled, of course, and often found himself reprimanded at work, but remained steadily employed and was thus allowed to stay with his brother.

Pomni wrote to Mr. Kinger, Sister Ragatha, and Zooble regularly. When he remembered to respond, Mr. Kinger was thrilled to hear from his surrogate daughter, and Pomni gifted him several books on Ediacaran insects to add to his collection. Kinger said that Zuzanna was an excellent housekeeper, tidying up the dust and cobwebs while keeping his reams upon reams of notes and sketches untouched and in their place. Sister Ragatha was pleased to learn that Pomni had secured a job, chasing her dream to be a working lady just as the Gray Sister knew she could. She sent Pomni a string of beads to pray The 13 Steps should she ever feel the need to. Although Pomni remained agnostic, she kept the string in her handbag at all times. Zooble kept Pomni up to date with the goings-on at the Shutnyk Estate, and was always free to offer their candid yet insightful advice.

Although it took some time, two years to be exact, Pomni eventually decided to write to her parents. They offered their congratulations on her job acquisition, Vladimir remarking that he could have used her sharp eyes while working on some new cases, and, inevitably, told their daughter that they missed her terribly. Pomni missed them a bit as well, but was so busy with her career that she had precious little time off to come visit them. She assured them she would one of these days, but a major event occurred four years on that stopped her tireless work in its tracks.

Pomni awoke early one morning and was sick into the toilet, and remained at home to hopefully recover from her sudden stomach illness. When her symptoms returned the following morning, she sent a telegram to Altonicus inquiring what course of action to follow. Altonicus replied, politely as ever, if she and Jax had consummated their union recently.

Pomni was midway into asking what that information had to do with anything before she stood up straighter.

“Ohhhhhh blazes…” she whispered.

Four months on and Pomni’s belly had grown significantly. Jax was over the moon with excitement, and Pomni, while initially very hesitant, relaxed when she learned that she would be granted paid maternity leave in the third trimester. Her anxieties continued to smolder, however, when she remembered how many times her mother miscarried. She took the utmost precautions, moving as little as possible, eating very bland food and taking no medication apart from the prenatal vitamins the town’s doctor prescribed. By the seventh month, she was at home on leave, her belly firm and round and the tiny life inside it doing just fine, according to the hospital.

Leave was quite simple, as Pomni had a number of books to catch up on that she previously could not read due to not speaking Ediacaran, as well as her novel to chip away at. Jax had busied himself making preparations for the infant, clearing part of the house to serve as a nursery and reading countless childcare books. Pomni, as usual, did not require much attention, but did occasionally burst into tears or snap uncharacteristically at her husband, and she would sometimes burn with a physical desire she had never known before. It mortified her how unstable the developing life inside her made her act, and she would have been ashamed at acting so erratically had Jax not been his pleasant yet dry self.

Pomni told him one winter evening to please remove a pair of black leather gloves, as the scent was bothering her. Jax smiled.

“Why of course, my dear. In fact, I’ll see to it that I personally scour each and every surface these malodorous gloves have touched!”

Pomni silenced him by playfully lobbing a book in his direction.

Nine months in, Pomni’s water broke on the way to the restroom one morning, and she was rushed to the hospital. Labor proved to be an ordeal, as Pomni’s slight stature made the delivery process especially excruciating. Pomni said things to the doctors and nurses she hoped to never repeat to a single living soul, and it was the first and only time she repeated The 13 Steps, mostly because she wanted something else to focus on other than her entire lower body being torn asunder.

What felt like an eternity of suffering later, and there was at last a tiny voice crying out into the world. Pomni saw her child and the pain was instantly forgotten. Her child. Her baby. She was here.

Jax was the first to hold her after the doctor snipped off her umbilical cord. She was perfectly tiny, little more than a bundle of blankets and damp, blue-violet fur. Jax looked at her with a fondness Pomni had only seen on her wedding day. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he looked from his minutes-old daughter to Pomni, damp with sweat and rested atop five pillows.

“She’s beautiful, darling…” he said, gently handing her over to Pomni. Pomni feebly took her daughter into her arms, motherly instinct taking over as she rocked the infant to soothe her cries.

“Hello, Esther…” Pomni managed to say before drifting into slumber, equal parts relieved and exhausted.

—

“That’s it Esther, come to daddy!”

In the foothills of the Waga Mountains in Ediacara, on a grassy knoll, a red and white checkered blanket was spread out for a family of three. The father, a periwinkle-furred rabbit beastman, the mother, a petite human woman with shoulder length raven black hair, and their one-year-old daughter. The child’s fur was a deep, umbral blue, with twinkling green eyes like peridots. She had a small tuft of violet-black hair between her long ears, her cheeks, arms and legs still cushioned by baby fat. She wriggled about on the blanket until she was sitting up, clad in a small gray dress and puffy white bloomers.

“You can do it, dear! Up-up!” Jax said, patting his knees.

Esther rocked forward onto her hands and knees. She shakily rose onto her feet, pinwheeling her arms with a squeal and dropping into a crawling position again.

“There’s no need to rush her, darling. We should be cheering that she can stand for a little while.” Pomni said, smiling.

“Oh, I know.” Jax replied. “I was just so thrilled to see her come waddling towards me this morning. It was like she had forgotten that she was supposed to crawl. She dropped right to her hands and knees when I gasped.”

Esther babbled.

“Oh, I’m sorry Esther, I know you were just as shocked as I was.” Jax said to his daughter.

Pomni smiled, holding her squirming daughter in her lap as Jax reached into the basket. He took out a few tins of vegetables, a jar of puréed ham and potatoes, and a salmon filet.

Esther fussed, continuing to try and wriggle free from her mother’s arms.

“Now you be patient, young lady. Your papa went to a lot of trouble to make all this.” Pomni chided.

“Baba,” Esther said. That was her way of saying “papa,” as P’s were a bit difficult for her. It was also her first word, her second being “night night” and her third being “mama.” It came as no surprise to either parent, since Jax was by far the one who spent the most time with Esther. He quit his job to raise her at home full time, allowing Pomni to focus on her career while also saving them the trouble of paying for a nanny.

“So, just about everyone is on the way, eh?” Jax said. “I’m amazed they could even afford roundabout passes to Ediacara…”

“Kinger paid for them. I insisted he not, but he had already sent off the crowns by the time the letter got to him. I know Kinger has a considerable fortune, but he will run out of money eventually should he spend so frivolously…”

“Babaaa!” Esther cried.

“Yes, dear, on the way…” Jax stirred a teaspoon in the jar of puréed food and withdrew it, placing it into Esther’s mouth. “You’re fretting too much again, darling. Your family will get to see your daughter! And just how much she’s grown.”

“Baba,” Esther said. Jax gave her another spoonful of food.

“I do love it here, certainly… But if someone wishes to come visit us, it shouldn’t cost them an arm and a leg. Although, that’s true of most things…”

There was a flash of color on the endless, verdant expanse the family sat on. A mote of red on a quilt of green.

“I suppose that’s true, but he should really visit while he has- Pomni?”

Pomni looked at the blot of color. There was a glint, and she gasped.

“Pomni, dear, what is it?” Jax asked.

“Hold Esther a moment,” she said, standing up and running towards the red figure in the distance.

“Mamaaaa!” Esther cried sternly.

Pomni hurried down the knoll, just about running out of her shoes. Sure enough, coming into focus was a shapeman in a red tailcoat, clutching a black walking stick with a golf leaf tip. He had an enlarged pair of dentures where his face should be.

“You-” Pomni gasped. “You, how did you get here?”

The Gentleman in Red tilted his head. “I’m sorry?”

“I… I asked you, sir. How did you get here? What are you doing here?”

“Why I’m here to see you, Mrs. Shutnyk. I believe your friend Kinger Rooker issued everyone an invitation.” He held up a boat ticket.

“You… you came with them..? No, they’re not supposed to be here for a week! Sir, please…”

Pomni swallowed.

“I’ve been left pondering for years. The night at the church, when you defended me against Boone and Mr. Krolik… Why did you do it? Why?Could you… could you at least tell me your name?”

The Gentleman in Red put both hands on his cane and tilted his head to the other side.

“You look happy, Pomni.”

Pomni blinked. “I… I am happy? I’m-”

He nodded. “Then I shall move on. Enjoy the rest of your life, Mrs. Krolik.”

He kicked his cane, twirling it in his hand and walking away.

Pomni watched him leave. She wanted to run after him. But she understood. She laughed incredulously.

“Pomni, is everything alright?” Jax said, having had to walk to avoid not jostling Esther.

“Mama,” Esther scolded.

Pomni turned and looked her husband in the eye. She smiled.

“…Why, yes. Yes it is. Shall we eat?”

Fin

[beardedmrbean]

Who knew? Nearly three and a half years after Covid-19 first appeared on the scene, the World Health Organisation has declared the pandemic officially over.

And there we all were thinking it had ended more than a year ago, when the UK and much of the rest of Europe abandoned the last of their Covid restrictions.

Late to recognise Covid as a pandemic, the WHO has also been late to acknowledge that thanks in large measure to Western medicines and vaccines, it is also now essentially part of history.

Perhaps that's because of the continued influence of China, which only very recently abandoned its zero-Covid policy.

As long as a major economy was still imprisoning its citizens at the slightest sign of infection, then I suppose it was indeed hard to declare the disease no longer a public health emergency.

For most of us, the pandemic has nevertheless been over for a long time now. 

The grimly dispiriting legacy is, however, still very much with us. 

In the UK, the national debt is a fifth of GDP higher than it was, inflation has soared to double digits, economically sub-optimal work from home remains deeply entrenched, labour shortages abide, and many people still complain of long term sickness – much of it unrelated to Covid as such but seemingly triggered by the pandemic's deprivations – with record numbers claiming out of work benefits.

The Government's response to Covid always looked to me like a ruinous over-reaction, and I became something of a lockdown sceptic.

I say “something of” because in the initial stages of the pandemic – call it the “we're all going to die” phase – something fairly dramatic was obviously called for, watching the TV images of emergency hospitals being built in Wuhan and overwhelmed ICU units in Northern Italy.

Politically, it would have been virtually impossible for the UK to have stood alone in remaining open even as virtually the whole of the rest of Europe was closing down. 

The Government would have fallen within weeks if it had stood by and done nothing. 

Even Sweden, which seems to have got its approach about right, eventually implemented a watered down version of the restrictions imposed elsewhere.

Instinctively, Boris Johnson, then Prime Minister, was against lockdown, preferring instead the idea of “herd immunity”, but then he became seriously ill himself, and ended up fully embracing the made-in-China response.

For some, such as the former Supreme Court judge Lord Sumption – who would regularly warn of police state authoritarianism – the objection was on principled libertarian grounds.

This was, however, very much a minority position. One of the most remarkable things about the whole sorry affair is quite how compliant the country proved, and how quickly we succumbed to instruction. 

Somewhat alarmingly, it turned out that supposedly freedom loving societies are remarkably willing to submit to authoritarian rule, especially if paid to stay at home, as was the case with furlough in the UK. 

Even the Government was surprised by the obedience.

Yet it was always abundantly clear that these were essentially temporary, wartime measures that would be lifted once the emergency was over, so on those grounds at least, most of us were initially willing to go along with the heavy handed approach imposed.

No, what worried me was not so much the loss of liberty as the economic impact, and once the case mortality rate was confirmed at less than 1 percent for advanced economies, the lack of proportionality and cost benefit consideration. 

I could never quite accept the argument that what was being done was similar to putting the economy into a medically induced coma, with the patient reawoken as if nothing had happened once the pandemic was over. 

As we can now see, the lasting damage was monumental.

It would no doubt have been disastrous had the health service been overwhelmed, but when the main justification for lockdown becomes the rallying call of “protect the NHS” you have to ask yourself what the whole thing was really all about. 

Insulating the health service from a sickness it is there to treat?

You cannot put a price on life, it can be argued, and therefore almost any cost is justified. It is also true that in the fog of war, mistakes are bound to be made; over-reaction is possibly better than under-reaction.

All the same, it now seems abundantly clear that the treatment was in many ways worse than the disease itself. We'll never know the counterfactual, or just how many lives were saved by imposing a strict series of lockdowns.

Most epidemiologists will tell you that it was a lot. 

But they are not paid to think about the wider consequences, and it is now patently clear that the lasting damage to education, the economy and to wider public health was off the scale.

What are the lessons? We don't need to wait for the results of the official inquiry, still years away, to know some of the answers. 

Let's make a start by examining the death toll, reported on a daily basis during the pandemic as if in some kind of international competition for how effectively each country was dealing with the crisis.

For a long time, Britain seemed to be bottom of the class, which in turn instructed the severity of the counter measures thought necessary. 

The worse the numbers looked relative to others, the more draconian and prolonged the restrictions became.

Given differing methodologies and reporting systems, the best way of measuring the impact is not through recorded deaths from Covid, but via the excess death rate over and above what would normally be expected. 

On this measure, most major advanced economies ended up in much the same place.

Britain was slightly worse than Germany and France, but not significantly so, and actually quite a bit better than Italy and Spain, according to estimates published in the Lancet. 

This was not the impression you got at the time, when the British response was widely viewed as uniquely incompetent. 

What is more, Scotland did worse than England, notwithstanding the plaudits the first minister, Nicola Sturgeon, received for outbidding Westminster on the countermeasures needed. 

The same is true of Wales, whose first minister, Mark Drakeford, was similarly lauded for a more restrictive and therefore seemingly capable approach. 

Well, not according to the numbers.

Culture wars, I'm afraid to say, are as likely to determine your view of the efficacy of lockdown as the underlying facts of the matter.

What we now know, however, is that lockdown is an extraordinarily costly way of dealing with a pandemic. 

It is to be hoped that this lesson at least has been learned, and that the response to future pandemics will therefore be better calibrated to the severity of the disease. 

A 1pc case mortality rate scarcely seems to justify what was done, even if it was admittedly much higher in older age cohorts.

A more consensual approach that keeps people properly informed but allows them to make their own choices on the degree of risk they are prepared to run must be the way forward.

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/745446792966078464/httpswwwtumblrcomolderthannetfic745318072162

God, now this bs is even spreading here lol

Anyway, tl;dr: Molly X Chang never went after reviewers. That simply didn't happen, and the mere fact that the 'statement' by the reviewers alleges actual crimes and then proceeds to provide zero evidentiary support (the reviewers were never doxxed! the author never sent anyone to harass them! it was a case of third-party gossip that got out of hand but the only reason anyone found out the reviewer's name and the identity of the author sister is because they decided to make private beef into a big public stink) should be enough to discredit them. (I would link to the author's own statements but she was violently harassed and has since made her twitter account private, since her name had been spread to racist extremists from the ethnic majority of her country who proceeded to fill her mentions with hate.)

As far as her story is concerned, one of the reviewers in question has a history of extreme bias against stories by woc authors (they have reviewed The Hurricane Wars and The Jasad Heir and likewise called both of those 'colonizer romances' despite neither coming remotely close; and, sorry, but 'colonizer romance' implies something that simply does not accurately describe the relationship as it is presented and ultimately unravels in Molly's book, especially given the way the review presented it! but that's one thing reviews are good for--letting the reader know how trustworthy, or not, the reviewer is going forward), which called into reasonable question their bias going into reading Molly's book. Furthermore, said reviewer used a sockpuppet account on GoodReads to gas up her sister's story and argue in the comments of other people's negative reviews on that story (though kept denying the sockpuppet account was hers until other people started putting the pieces together; Molly ultimately chose to take her at her word), and this sockpuppet is what she used to review Molly's book and, again, argue in the comments of other reviews. On instagram, this reviewer bragged about getting people to lower their rating on the book. I'm sorry, but any way you slice it, this is scuzzy behavior, and I can understand why someone wanted to warn Molly about this reviewer.

The problem isn't Molly's reaction to people's reviews of her book. The only reason this became a big public stink is because of private conversations that got spread around in gossip chains and got out of hand. The actual problem is that, because of this (and I fully believe this was actually the intent behind making the wank public) thousands of people took the review and believed it, sight unseen, and chose to harass and abuse the author because of the content of her book which most of them had not even read and admitted they had no intention to.

Sorry, but no one's reviews are sacrosanct and deserve to be presented as objective truth. There are a few critical reviews that do approach the book fairly, I just don't think the ones that immediately went viral count among that number, but ultimately, no one is actually going to have an informed opinion until and unless they read the book themselves--which hasn't even been published yet!

And regardless of anything else, the author does not deserve the abuse she has received because of a fucking book. Period.

--

[nullen-void]

Fade Away

This morning, a hero died.

Gearhead, veteran superhero and founding member of the Vanguard Society, has been an active hero since his debut in 1944 protecting the homefront from Nazi saboteurs, though it is suspected that he was a vigilante for several years before that. Publically known to be baseline human, Gearhead has managed to stay relevant and formidable alongside the likes of Lady Sekhmet and Indomitable with nothing but his wit, determination, and his genius for creating gadgets that can close the distance between him and the superhuman.

Over the years, Gearhead was known to replace and upgrade his gear as they became outdated, with the most obvious example being his variety of super-vehicles; the Smoghaven Museum's wing dedicated to the hero features a lineup of his previous Gearmobiles, allowing citizens to compare them personally. Thirty years ago in 1994, after a several-month silent period that allies reported to be the result of an injury, Gearhead previous costume was overhauled entirely, replaced with an incredible powered armor that even in its first iteration outpaced any modern military hardware. As Gearhead had been active for more than fifty years at that point, it was widely assumed that the name and title had been passed down to a successor. Other members of the Vanguard were silent on the matter.

Earlier today, we found out that this was not the case.

During small-time villain Dr. Dreadful's attempt to rob the Smoghaven First Bank, Gearhead arrived to put a stop to his nefarious schemes. Eyewitness accounts state that the hero seemed sluggish, and was uncharacteristically silent, not engaging in banter with Dr. Dreadful despite the villain's minor suggestive abilities. At 11:31 AM, after dispatching a taser line that Dreadful successfully avoided, Gearhead's powersuit suddenly and abruptly lost power, locking up in the process. After an awkward silence, Dr. Dreadful attempted once more to engage the hero in conversation, before suddenly paling. Dreadful dropped his weapons and ran for the hero, prying the armor's chestplate apart with his bare hands to no resistance on Gearhead's part. The reason became abundantly clear after Dreadful opened the suit enough for the pilot to fall out, revealing an elderly man in an electronic bodysuit.

Gearhead suffered a fatal heart attack.

"I knew something wasn't right," Dr. Dreadful professed afterwards. "I--I'm mildly telepathic, you know, I can tell when someone's feeling off. But we all have off days, it wasn't the first time Gearhead's been distracted in a fight, so I shrugged it off. It wasn't until I suddenly stopped being able to sense him that I realized something was wrong, but by then it was too late."

Dr. Dreadful surrendered in the wake of this revelation, cooperating fully with police as they arrived while demanding an ambulance be called for Gearhead.

"I knew it was too late," the villain confided, morose. "But I had to hope. I'm in this for the fun of the game, you know. And it's only fun as long as no one gets hurt. No one important, anyway."

Authorities were able to identify Gearhead as reclusive retired inventor Arthur Dodge, founder and former CEO of Heart & Hearth Solutions, makers of America's favorite household appliances for the last sixty years for their hardy construction and timeless designs. Arthur Dodge was ninety-six (96) at time of death, determined by paramedics to be a heart attack. Electrical burns and muscle scarring, as well as preliminary investigation of the Gearhead suit before Vanguard associates arrived to retrieve it, suggest that Dodge had been suffering heart attacks fairly regularly and was using a built-in defibrillator to resuscitate himself on the job. Today was simply the day it finally failed to work.

The Vanguard Society has not yet issued a statement as a group, but multiple heroes have already said their piece:

[Lady Sekhmet is seen in her lion form, agitated.] "That old fool... We all knew it was coming. I told him he needed to retire, but since when does he ever listen to me? He's just lucky he had his heart attack against someone harmless like Dreadful. I'll be sure to give him an earful when he recovers." [A reporter offscreen says something indistinctly.] "...What do you mean, 'dead?" He can't be--turn that camera off now, what do you mean--"

[Indomitable sighs heavily and runs a gloved hand through his graying hair. He flies away without a word.]

[A man in blue robes with a glowing glass eye stares directly into the camera, unnerving the interviewer.] "...No. I don't believe you. Gearhead has bullied Death into submission before, I was there when it happened. He'll be back."

Despite the words of Sightseer, medical personnel are certain; Gearhead is dead, America, leaving retired hero Jack of Spades as the final living member of the original Guild of Valiants. Jack of Spades has refused an interview at this time, with his granddaughter Ace of Hearts rebuffing attempts to contact him.

"Grandad needs time, you guys," she was reported as saying. "He just a lost a close friend, cut him some slack will you?"

A lifelong bachelor, Arthur Dodge leaves behind neither children nor heirs; according to this reporter's contact in the Vanguard Sanctum, Gearhead only socialized with other heroes. After a career of more than eighty years, Gearhead has eleven surviving sidekicks, with the youngest reported as being forty. It is unknown at this time what will become of the Gearhead armor, and a cloud of uncertainty hangs over the citizens of Smoghaven. For now, let us merely acknowledge the lifetime of heroism and the legacy left behind by this incredible man, as we prepare for--

-------------------------------

Jack of Spades turned off the TV with a groan of disgust. "Alecia, do you know where my costume's got to?" he called.

His granddaughter poked her head into the den. "Dad took it to a costume party last month, remember? I think I know where he left it though." She glared at him. "I hope you're not thinking of--"

"Unlike Arty, I know when to quit," Jack snapped. He pulled a deck of cards out from... somewhere, Alecia was never sure where he kept them, and started shuffling them absent-mindedly. "But I'll want to wear it to the funeral. 'S the least I can do."

Her expression softened. "Oh, of course." She looked back into the kitchen, biting her lip. "Hey, Gramps, are you sure you're okay?"

Jack sighed. "'M fine, Ace. Just old. 'S not like I didn't know it was coming. Just surprised it got to Arty first. Coulda sworn he said he was planning on going cyborg or something, the old fool."

Alecia hovered, not sure what to say.

"Get back to what you're doing, girl," Jack said. "I'll be fine."

The girl left with one last look over her shoulder. Once she was gone, Jack waited until he heard the sound of pots and pans, then sneakily took a flask out from where he'd hidden it; Alecia hated him drinking, but if anything called for it it was this.

"To the last of the old guard," Jack of Spades declared, holding the whiskey overhead. "Old heroes never die." Quietly, to himself, and after emptying the container in one gulp, he added bitterly, "Here's to fading away."

[fireylesbianhell]

i’m having thoughts about my boy

sorry newsies moots but it’s solace time baby

• William Andrew Solace was born in Texas but has tempratlily lived in and been too; New Mexico, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Nevada, California, Washington, New York, and later on in life Massachusetts and Maine. The only states he vividly remembers when he was young was New Mexico and Nevada, as they spent the longest time there besides Texas.

• Will left to camp when his mother stopped in new york and a monster attack very close to camp happened and the nearest satyr recognized him as a half-blood, dragging him with the other demigods (i headcannon one of them was Drew And that’s how those two met) and was introduced. He found his mother again and was able to stay there after some plot stuff i will flesh…later.

• cat person he is such a cat person he’s a golden retriever boy yes but he’s a cat person i’m sorry i’m right i am i know him he told me

• Will did get bullied when he went to a public school for a short time in new Mexico for being/acting “Gay” and it stuck with him a bit as he was worried what camp half blood would be like. but the camp was very friendly and he adapted fairly quickly after his siblings supported his coming out

• Will is Bi to me, and i feel he figured out fairly easily. Naomi wasn’t as religious as her parents and her traveling gave her a wider world veiw, so she wasn’t exactly homophobic but didn’t really let will know gay people existed. he kinda just got context clues along the way.

• Will came out to naomi when he was 14 and she accepted him, after some suprise and tears. it was confusing for both of them but she wasn’t angry.

• Will goes though whipped cream like a maniac. he puts it on everything. everything. i don’t know where i got this headcannon from but it’s mine now it’s my baby his favorite dessert is literally just reddi whip striaght into his mouth and nico is always absoloutley horrified whenever he finds his boyfriend straight up drinking reddi whip out of the fridge after a late night at the hospital wing.

• WORKAHOLIC!! BIGGEST WORKAHOLIC!!! EVER!!! does NOT take breaks does NOT talk about his own feelings. major case of therapist friend with no therapy

• Nico summons skeletons to help will with studying sometimes, hey, it’s better than a textbook

• Due to all the Shit He’s Seen, will isn’t really freaked out by nico or macabre at all. as to contrast, nico hates medical stuff and finds it kinda freaky

• Will has a very Work for what you get attitude and seeing his mother scrape by and work herself up made will similarly hardworking, independent and self sufficient. But he’s also a stubborn bastard who would rather take and remove a bullet then let someone help him either work wise or financially. It got even worse as he became the head of his cabin so much younger with so many younger kids to take care if

• Living in new mexico for as long as they did Naomi decided it was a good idea to have will learn at least some spanish when he was young and he picked up on it nicely, and decided to continue. he’s fairly fluent now and loves freaking Leo out all the time by talking to him in spanish when nobody else is around and he can’t prove it.

• Did also have a minor crush on percy, but mostly as a “woah look at that guy holy shit” and loved teasing annabeth about it (“If YOU love him so much why do you want us to get her together?” “nooo you guys are my OTP i’m not having that up just because he’s hot” <- COMPLETELY REAL INTERACTION THEY E HAD MHM TRUST ME BRO)

• Wants to pick up on some italian so he can do the same thing he does with leo to nico

• TRANSGENDER AND AUTISTIC IM NOT ELABORATING FUCK YOU ( i do have reasons but this is more fun)

• Favorite vide game is a tie between tetris and Majoras mask

• Favorite TV show was Malcom in the Middle as a kid and now is greys anatomy /j/j/j/j but i can gaurentee he hate watches it with the apollo cabin all the time

• Suprisingly fine with plants, yes sunflowers do look at him and everyone makes fun of him for it

okay i’m done (i’m a liar i’m not done but i am about to pass out sooo)

[cedarnommer]

There's a big and frankly stupid debate about trans women in sports and how we're supposedly predisposed to win in sports. I'll talk personal experiences rather than some big research. Not that people that hate trans women care for what we say, but I digress.

Prior to being on HRT, my body had a far higher nmol of t than actual cis men. It hovered between 230 and was almost above 250. The dysphoria I felt from that was awful. I was aware that at some point I had the crazy ability to just repeat a physical exercise a bunch and get muscular rapidly. I always avoided arm exercises yet I could lift up fairly heavy things. After starting estrogen, I noticed that I got weaker. After I started taking t blockers, it became significantly more apparent. Groceries of 5-10 kg that became easier to carry around now feel like me trying to carry them in my preteens to early puberty time.

None of this is to say cis women are weaker. Since our bodies are not absolutes and some cis men have lower t and some cis women higher t. But, trans women are likely to be taking some form of t blockers if transitioning. And this does affect our physical strength a lot.

The sports discourse is a fascinating intellectual tool used by actual sexists. It isn't necessarily just transmysogynist in its structure. The core argument made is that women are more physically weak than men. Therefore women need intervention so that they're protected from the physically superior men. It asserts that a patriarchal hierarchy is natural and actually beneficial to women. And I feel like it's this logical tool which tricks people into assuming this is to their benefit. We're nothing but a tool for actual cis men to assert themselves and gain power. So people that use the label feminist yet defend these actions aren't all that feministic. It reminds me of how many issues second wave feminism had in the US due to excluding non white women and lesbians. This isn't real feminism in this case. It gives acknowledgement that men are indeed superior and all feminism amounts to is an idea to beg and seek approval of spaces that men decided for women.

But all I hear is how we, trans women, dominate women's sports. Most of us can't even lift a bag of groceries well, let alone dream of doing this. The other rhetorical reasoning behind this is to belittle and attack our femininity as trans people. Our womanhood is denied while we're also called failed males. And ya know, this rhetorical idea was used by white feminists in the past to deny non-white women too. You're not the defender of women you think you are, if you're not seeking genuine liberation from this garbage gendered system.

But what do I know. I'm just the supposed weak "man" that's also somehow super powerful and superior to cis women. I'm also supposedly having a super imposing male privilege because everything I say is heard and enforced over cis women while people debate my literal right to pee in a public restroom.

Do I feel privileged and mighty? No. And I certainly doubt I can overpower cis women. And to be quite honest, I don't understand why I'm supposed to. I've never understood why men have this idea of domination and aggression. That should hint to you that I'm not a man.

Trans rights. Women's rights. The ghouls that enforce all this suffering can go to hell.

[qqueenofhades]

One of the great tragedies of human history, in my humble opinion, is how Christianity was originally good before Constantine got ahold of it. In its early years of 33 CE-313 CE, it was a good and kind and just religion built around uplifting the marginalised peoples of the world and the New Testament is explicitly a socialist text. Yet I look at the Christian churches of today and see nothing about them any of the First Christians would even remotely recognise.

There are a lot of complex and delicate arguments to be had (and indeed, scholars have spent several literal millennia having them) about whether Christianity was totally good before the corrupting influence of those bad Romans aligned it with one of the largest and most culturally significant empires in history -- in which case, of course, its interests became about imposing and maintaining imperial control, often brutally, rather than any fidelity to founding precepts about love and care for others etc etc. In my opinion, this is a considerable oversimplification. From its founding, Christianity was subject to major internal crises and schisms, bitter arguments over what counted as "orthodox" (literally, "true") and what was describable as a heresy and for what reasons. The first few centuries of Christianity pre-Roman Catholicism are hardly a picture of peaceful coexistence, and Christianity was also unusual in the ancient world for its intolerance of competing theologies. The Romans were fairly lax about which local gods their subjects worshiped, as long as they also made sacrifices to Roma, Jupiter, and the other Roman pantheon, as that was felt to be an essential civic duty for the welfare of the Roman state. Thus, the Christians' refusal to honor any gods but their own was viewed not just as a religious defiance, but as a threat to public order and Homeland Security, and of course, it's always easy to scapegoat those kinds of people.

Even before the Romans, however, groups of Christians were viciously attacking other Christians, heretics, Jews, "pagans," Greeks or Hellenes (this was before medieval scholars such as Aquinas embarked on a valiant project to "Christianize" Aristotle and otherwise make the Greek philosophers acceptable to the Catholic canon) and definitely not constantly engaged in pure neighborly philanthropy. There are many options for how it could have developed, whether as a local sect in opposition to the Romans, a religion originally specific to a group of people and geographic region like Judaism, or just merely fractured into competing groups that all viewed each other as the enemy and eventually died out. However, it was additionally unusual in antiquity for its aggressive focus on conversion, and its spread beyond traditional tribal and ethnic groups. It was previously felt that each racial or national group of people had their own gods and those were the ones they were expected to stick with, but since the first few generations of Christians were all converts rather than being born into an established tradition, they were seen as "relinquishing" their previous gods, and this was unusual and possibly dangerous.

Constantine is often positioned as the establisher of Christianity in the Roman Empire, but this is also not quite true. He officially decriminalized Christianity after the increased persecutions of the late second and early third century CE, and may have personally been baptized on his deathbed, but this was also debated and he remained cagey about it during his lifetime. It was also not a straight line of uncontroversially Christian emperors from there; there was a guy named Julian the Apostate in the 360s, who rebuked institutional Christianity and tried to make a return to the Roman gods. However, the tide was generally moving toward Christianity, and in the 430s, the emperor Theodosius II issued the Theodosian Code, one of the original comprehensive legal-civic codes that mandated Christianity as the official religion of the Roman Empire and viewed non-Christians as the same kind of civic threat that Christians themselves had once been. Eventually, after the breakup of the western Roman Empire in 476, Rome -- while no longer the seat of major secular power -- was retained as the seat of religious authority, and became home to the Pope.

As I have written about many times, the legacy of medieval Christianity and medieval Catholicism is very complicated, and takes that reduce it to "the all-powerful church brainwashed everyone everywhere and they always did what it said" are wildly incorrect. It is a deeply flawed institution embedded into deeply flawed human society, and its control was never universal or complete. Indeed, the Catholics would love you to think it was, but the Great Schism of 1054 formalized the split between Greek Eastern Orthodox and Latin Western Catholic rites after centuries of acrimony, and the thirteenth century in particular was a hotbed for challenging and questioning the church (and the growth of new "heresies") in a way not really seen since the original first few centuries. Even in Europe, conversion was slow and patchwork and happened in different regions at different rates, and was always syncretic with local beliefs and magic/folklore traditions. So yes, even as one of the major inheritances of Rome, as Chris Wickham would put it, Christianity was not automatically or unquestioningly superior in medieval Europe. Though of course, it did become so, and allied itself with projects of institutional and generational religious warfare such as the crusades.

Anyway, the minutiae of the early church notwithstanding, it's true that almost invariably, the institutional Catholic church has found itself on the wrong side of history for the past 1700 years or so, and like all religions whose claim to universal and permanent truth means that any attempt to change or modulate its teaching is an existential threat, it has resisted any attempts to scrutinize, analyze, or acknowledge that. Because of Christianity's eventual permanent supremacy in European legal and religious worlds, and its violent exportation to the rest of the world via colonialism and imperialism, its truth-claims have been used to inflict immense systemic and individual suffering. The archconservative elements in the church (of which the recently late Benedict XVI was one), have doubled down on those claims and taken their refusal to modernize as a point of pride, and this is only in regard to Catholics. The churches that I suspect you're talking about, i.e. American evangelical/fundamental churches, owe their intellectual genealogy to Protestantism, and that is a whole OTHER can of worms.

[crissiebaby]

Double Diaper Dare: Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, public humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, WAM, hypnosis, diaper filling, slime transformation, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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Codi’s Diary: Entry 141 (Cont.)

As humans developed, so did I. It took a few millennia but after learning how to make and hold organic forms with my goo (no easy feat), interacting with humans became a favorite pastime of mine. Could anyone blame me? The world that humans got to inhabit was just so vibrant and full of so much life that it would burst out of the ground at random. Moreover, humans were wild, unpredictable, and, in most cases, perhaps the horniest species I’d ever encountered. Still, as strange as they were, it made me feel happy not to be so alone anymore.

Things were a lot harder for me back then, though. I could only hold a human shape for an hour or two at a time before melting back into a puddle of slime, something that humans were far too easily freaked out by if you ask me. It was the genitalia that often did me in, as my internal slime would often seep out through the slit that female humans possessed at the bottom of their torsos. Thankfully, I found a fairly easy solution to that.

You see, humans had this knack for innovation that most other species just didn’t possess. And it seemed I wasn’t the only one struggling with holding my “goop” in. And thus, the diaper was born. Unfortunately, the ones who had the most need for such bulky hygiene products were usually the smallest of humans, making it hard for me early on to find proper protection. That was until humans took a big leap forward into the industrial age, and with it came mankind’s great creation: brick-and-mortar ABDL stores with everything I could ever need or want to keep my little leakage problem firmly under wraps…

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The familiar smell of fresh grass mixed with the nauseating aroma of smoggy city streets filled Crissie’s nostrils while the sounds of angry car horns and police sirens echoed all around. She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know where she was. She’d landed in the same spot twice before, after all. “Home sweet home,” she chuckled as she sat up and looked around the park that neighbored her old apartment.

“Frick, it’s freezing,” said Codi, who was wearing quite a fashionable outfit. Since the clothing you previously wore on Earth is what you’d reappear in, Codi was dressed in a striped halter-top dress that looked far more appropriate for a beach setting than a New York park in late fall.

Codi’s acknowledgment of the temperature was enough to draw Crissie’s attention to her own outfit inadequacies. Having been back to earth countless times for CrissBaby photo shoots and press events, she’d worn a wide variety of fun and frilly outfits. This time, she found herself back in a familiar classic, which was a golden dress she had worn for her very first CrissBaby Diaper Company presentation, along with a fresh diaper to replace the messy one she made in the nursery. Tragically, as much as Crissie loved the dress, it was ill-equipped for the frosty weather. “Alright, timeout on Double Diaper Dare until we can get warm,” she said, receiving a nod of approval from Codi, “Besides if memory serves, I have a great idea of where to go.”

Clinging to each other for warmth, Crissie and Codi trudged through the park until they reached the street. Several onlookers shot the pair of diaper lovers a few fascinated glances. While looks of intrigue and curiosity were better than disgust or anger, it didn’t make them feel any less self-conscious.

Remembering how recognizable she was last time, Crissie reached up and pulled out her trademark hair bow, hoping to avoid being recognized if possible. Fortunately, this choice also gave her some heat insulation with her long brown hair providing some slight production from the elements. “N-n-note to self, m-m-make sure to check the weather first,” said Crissie, still frigid despite her newly found coverage. Luckily for both her and Codi, they had finally arrived at their destination, “Ugh! Thank Goddess, we’re here.”

Codi’s slimy filling felt a sense of relief hearing that she was so close to escaping the frigid air. That was until she caught sight of the storefront, recognizing its design all too well.

“Heyyo! Welcome to the CrissBaby Store!” said the greeter at the entrance before covering her mouth in shock, “My goodness! You two look frozen! Let’s get you inside.” The greeter quickly placed her hands on Crissie and Codi’s shoulders, ushering them into the heat-controlled air.

The overwhelming aroma of baby powder was the first thing to hit Codi and Crissie as their bodies began to thaw from their popsicle conditions. Gazing across the vast storeroom, Crissie was delighted to have her first chance to look inside a real, brick-and-mortar CrissBaby Store. Row after row of shelves containing various CrissBaby diapers stacked on display alongside a host of other blushy ABDL products. And that was just what they could see from the entrance. 

Having previously only seen a CrissBaby store from the outside, it was safe to say the girls were shocked into amazement. “Wooooow…” said Codi, her mouth practically watering as she glanced over at a corner of the store filled with fuzzy PJs and onesies. This was far more extravagant and jam-packed than any other adult diaper stores she’d been to before meeting Crissie. Clearly, CrissBaby really knew how to put on a show for its customers,”...h-how did you know this was here?”

“I drove by it once with Master. She said she wanted to take me but we never got around to it,” lamented Crissie, feeling a bit down that Master seemed to be spending less and less time with her as of late, “It’s okie, though. I know she’s very busy.”

Recognizing Crissie’s melancholy, Codi placed her arm around Crissie’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. “Hey, even if Master isn’t here, this is something we get to experience together for the first time,” she said, blushing slightly. She wasn’t super used to sentimentality, but something about seeing Crissie getting slightly down made her want to cheer her up somehow, “How about this? Let’s pause the game for a bit and do some exploring. Sound good?”

Nodding her head, Crissie leaned into Codi’s arm, feeling the tightness in her chest begin to subside. “Sure, I’d love that,” she said, nuzzling her cheek against Codi’s ultra-soft hair.

“Awww, you two look adorable!” said the CrissBaby store greeter, who had been watching the girls since they entered. Her brassiere struggled to hold in her wobbling milk jugs with every step she took, “Most of the couples we see in here are some combo of Caregiver and Little. Not nearly as many Littles in love, if you catch my drift.”

Crissie and Codi did indeed catch the greeter’s drift, instantly separating upon hearing what the doting employee said. “It’s not…we’re not….we’re just friends,” said Codi, her face flaring up as she tried to come up with a convincing denial.

“Yeah, t-totally not a couple,” said Crissie, who was equally red after getting clocked as a lesbian in spending less than an hour back on Earth, “We’re just besti-”

“Roommates at most, really,” interjected Codi, who was too caught up with generating excuses that she completely glossed over what Crissie was saying, much to Crissie’s chagrin.

Having been witness to the entire conversation, the greeter took a step back, cringing with second-hand embarrassment over Crissie’s apparent rejection. “W-Well, my name is Lotte. I’ll be up at the front of the store if you need anything,” she said, before scurrying back toward the door.

Sighing with relief, Codi was thrilled to have escaped that conversation. Left to their own devices, she was ready to begin her adventure with Crissie through the massive store. “So, anywhere you want to check out first?” she asked, her eyes already darting back toward the onesie section.

“Hmmm…I Double Diaper Dare you to walk up to the greeter and spank her diaper,” said Crissie with a coldness behind her eyes that was far from ordinary. Unfortunately, Codi was too flabbergasted by the sudden dare to recognize the deep trouble she was now in.

Shooting a glance Lotte’s way, Codi’s blushiness returned with renewed vigor. “B-But I thought…” she stuttered out, realizing halfway through her sentence that there was no reasoning with a brat like Crissie, “...fine then. If that’s how we’re gonna play, so be it. Then after I do yours, I Double Diaper Dare you to stand up on top of the check-out counter and announce to everyone in the store that the real CrissieBaby is here.”

“Deal,” said Crissie, folding her arms confidently and nodding in the greeter’s general direction as if to shoe Codi off.

Turning her back to Crissie in a huff, Codi casually made her way over to a small rack of binkies that were on display near the front window, keeping an eye on Lotte and waiting for her moment to strike. Sadly, the constantly pacing greeter made it surprisingly difficult to get the jump on her, much to Crissie’s amusement. Recognizing that she’d need to create an opening herself, she let out a heavy breath and turned to look at Lotte, “Um, excuse me. Can I get your help over here?”

Like the diligent employee she was, Lotte rushed over to Codi’s aid. “Hey there, how can I be of assistance?” she asked obliviously.

“Yes, um…” said Codi, suddenly realizing that she’d failed to come up with that part of her plan. Lost in a panic, she asked the first thing that came to mind, “...uh…d-do you have anything…bigger?” She gestured to the binky stand, hoping her question wouldn’t seem too weird or off the cuff. She could hear Crissie giggling but refused to turn around to give her the satisfaction.

Thankfully, Codi’s innocuous question seemed to do the trick. “Oh, I see. You like ‘em big, huh?” said Lotte, giving Codi a sly wink as she leaned over the large display, “We’ve got loads of size. Anything, in particular, you looking for?”

Despite the fact that Codi was standing a mere twelve inches from the greeter, Lotte’s question went unanswered. Staring blankly at the female employee’s rear end, Codi couldn’t hear anything over the sound of her own heartbeat. She didn’t have a clear visual thanks to the skirt that Lotte was wearing but she knew the booty was there. That didn’t make it any easier to flat-out spank some random stranger in public. Closing her eyes and winding her hand back, she swung her arm quickly, landing a solid blow against Lotte’s backside.

*SMACK!*

“AhhhhhHHHHH!”

Lotte shrieked at the top of her lungs as she held her rear in her hands while Codi stepped back in shock, her hand still stinging. Regret set in almost instantly as a cruel realization entered her mind. A fact that was all too obvious thanks to the sound of flesh slapping flesh. There was no way Lotte was wearing a diaper. Lotte’s butt was just that big.

The calm and caring demeanor that Lotte had presented had all but disappeared. Let in its place was the mounting anger of a terrifying big. It was only at this point that Codi realized just how tall and imposing Lotte was.

Glaring down at a quivering Codi, Lotte narrowed her gaze and smirked, “Don’t you know it’s bad manners to spank someone without their consent?” she said, moving forward until she’d managed to back Codi into a corner, “Don’t worry, though. Here at CrissBaby, we have ways of breaking Littles of their nastiest habits.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

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[thricedead]

HIIII I'd love to ask some questions wheeeee. one character that rlly caught my interest was rantaro... he seems to be wearing a priest outfit and I was curious about his relationship with religion/level of religious belief as well as how it bleeds into his daily life and overall perception of the world :0

HI HI OMG HI LEMYA ^_^ i was hoping youd appear hehe. Im glad you asked about Rantaro! I keep his profile low and usually leave him out of the central 6, but he is the game's true antagonist and a very powerful, sinister figure.

I almost immediately decided that he would look like a catholic priest, and built from there onwards. I have a difficult relationship to religion, i essentially spent 3 years of early childhood being babysat and educated in a nunnery and severely abused by the nuns. When I realized how Christianity twisted itself very early in its life into a flag of violent conquest that abusers who like to justify their own greed readily rally around, it helped me make sense of how my own abuse within its walls wasnt an isolated case, and I was actually fairly lucky because i escaped his clutches. However, a strange image of beautiful, young, pure and kind nuns and priests stuck with me, even though Ive only ever met child abusers, bigots and thieves in my vicinity.. sorry for this digression but i had to explain this in order to explain rantaro! He is not christian, and does not hail from a christian family either. He was raised vaguely Buddhist and in fact he is still known by the public as a kind benefactor to a local temple. Religion anf spirituality dont really have any value to him, and neither does money even though he has a lot of it. He perceives trust to be the true currency of value in his world. When Rantaro was young, his father (a politician, albeit a small fish in a vast sea) stole from the european mafia that he had a give-and-take relationship with, and as a result was executed alongside his immediate family members. In a moment of desperation, fifteen-year-old Rantaro began begging for his life in a snivelling, embarrassing display, promising to swear loyalty to the mafia boss and be his dog if his life was spared. The boss was faintly amused with how he only begged for his own life to be spared and not his parents' and siblings' and promised Rantaro an office job in exchange for him disposing of the corpses. The boss fulfilled his promise, and young Rantaro became fixated on the idea that doing disgusting and shameful things for others' sake will make them trust and love you. He performed diligently at his job, and not long after he met Seiya. I will not spoil their relationship because it's central to the ending, but Seiya became the embodiment and object of Rantaro's obsession with establishing a tie through witnessing and being made to witness the most terrible parts of the other person. At some point, Rantaro created his stage persona called "Father Pius" (to separate it from his business persona). Father Pius is always portrayed on the stage as a priest in a confessional booth, usually ending up seduced and driven to lechery by characters played by his other 3 unit members. There's a dark irony in the man who abused Seiya, who in turn abused Odile, to paint himself to the audience as a paragon of purity being dragged down into the muck by outsider temptresses. Guilt and a feeling of responsibility and blame fester in his victims, and the stage play blends with real life.

All in all, his outfit represents a surface-level purity and deep-rooted depravity being brushed off as a momentary loss of sound judgement due to the seductivr powers of evil. The character of Father Pius is well accepted by the fans, though fans still favor the star crossed lovers dynamic between the Leader's character and Jiang Bin's character to the story of the Leader seducing Father Pius. Rantaro does not want to kill himself over this (self affirmation)

[ryuttaeng]

Ryujin x Reader ---- Reader gets super sick on stage and starts gagging so Ryu gets really worried and carries her backstage so she can try to throw up incase she needs to [ 6th member reader :DD ]

pairing: ryujin x 6th member!reader

summary: the show goes on, starting smoothly, although you don’t feel rather good.

contents/warnings: emetophobia, possible tw (totally not a self insert), hurt/comfort, fear of throwing up, sickness, anxiety, please do not read if sensitive/uncomfortable with such themes!

genres: hurt/comfort

you wanted to close your eyes but you couldn’t as you were performing right now, but your sickness started to get worse and worse as you moved. you tried to count till the song ends, wanting just to lay down with your eyes closed.

was it something you ate before or it’s anxious nausea, anything else that you couldn’t think of right but try to concentrate on your performance.

you feel overly anxious, you also notice that your heart rate sped up and your breathing rate increased. but what you didn’t like the most, was experience a bout of nausea.

always during a moment of high anxiety, you might’ve felt just a bit queasy. light feeling in your stomach giving a public presentation or going on a job interview. this kind of nausea may pass fairly quickly.

but this kind of anxiety, when you feel like dry heaving and almost throwing up was the worst. you wanted to make a dash to the backstage, bathroom, wherever you could just calm down and relive this feeling.

of course, everyone feels anxiety occasionally. it’s not something abnormal and not necessarily a bad thing. but in your case, it’s problematic as you frequently feel anxiousness accompanied by nausea.

they said to try to focus on the present rather than stressing about what may happen later when your anxiety takes hold.

you repeated yourself to consider what’s happening in the moment, and remind yourself that you’re safe and that the feeling will pass.

you tried to take long, deep breaths, but it didn’t work for you right now, as you still have to sing the song at the moment.

also, something that you should avoid while feeling nauseous? intense physical activity. which you successfully failed to do.

ryujin looked at her left as she saw one member’s movements became more constrained by every second passing. she turned her head, now witnessing your face turned pale and you tried to bend over.

you proceeded to sing your lyrics, but after quickly covering your mouth with your hand, yet still continuing to dance. now all of your group members noticed your statement, which definitely wasn’t good at all.

you closed your eyes, wanting to stop, when you felt someone holding your waist, quickly leading you somewhere. your eyes still closed and hand covering your mouth when you heard the door closed.

ryujin looked at you in the mirror, as you opened your eyes and went to the bathroom counter. “do you need to-“ “no! no, i just need some time to… relax.” you quickly said, not wanting to hear anything related with your nausea.

now finally you tried to calm yourself by taking long, deep breaths. you sat down, when you heard knocking on the door. it was staff handing ryujin a bottle of water, then giving it to you.

ryujin kneeled down beside you, rubbing your shoulder. “you’re okay?” she asked carefully, receiving a nod from you after few seconds. “yeah… thank you.” you whispered rubbing your eyes before softly smiling at her and receiving a smile back from ryujin.