#because i wanted to learn to stay afloat and that was the only way i could come up with to achieve that

[phantomrose96]

If anyone wants to know why every tech company in the world right now is clamoring for AI like drowned rats scrabbling to board a ship, I decided to make a post to explain what's happening.

(Disclaimer to start: I'm a software engineer who's been employed full time since 2018. I am not a historian nor an overconfident Youtube essayist, so this post is my working knowledge of what I see around me and the logical bridges between pieces.)

Okay anyway. The explanation starts further back than what's going on now. I'm gonna start with the year 2000. The Dot Com Bubble just spectacularly burst. The model of "we get the users first, we learn how to profit off them later" went out in a no-money-having bang (remember this, it will be relevant later). A lot of money was lost. A lot of people ended up out of a job. A lot of startup companies went under. Investors left with a sour taste in their mouth and, in general, investment in the internet stayed pretty cooled for that decade. This was, in my opinion, very good for the internet as it was an era not suffocating under the grip of mega-corporation oligarchs and was, instead, filled with Club Penguin and I Can Haz Cheezburger websites.

Then around the 2010-2012 years, a few things happened. Interest rates got low, and then lower. Facebook got huge. The iPhone took off. And suddenly there was a huge new potential market of internet users and phone-havers, and the cheap money was available to start backing new tech startup companies trying to hop on this opportunity. Companies like Uber, Netflix, and Amazon either started in this time, or hit their ramp-up in these years by shifting focus to the internet and apps.

Now, every start-up tech company dreaming of being the next big thing has one thing in common: they need to start off by getting themselves massively in debt. Because before you can turn a profit you need to first spend money on employees and spend money on equipment and spend money on data centers and spend money on advertising and spend money on scale and and and

But also, everyone wants to be on the ship for The Next Big Thing that takes off to the moon.

So there is a mutual interest between new tech companies, and venture capitalists who are willing to invest $$$ into said new tech companies. Because if the venture capitalists can identify a prize pig and get in early, that money could come back to them 100-fold or 1,000-fold. In fact it hardly matters if they invest in 10 or 20 total bust projects along the way to find that unicorn.

But also, becoming profitable takes time. And that might mean being in debt for a long long time before that rocket ship takes off to make everyone onboard a gazzilionaire.

But luckily, for tech startup bros and venture capitalists, being in debt in the 2010's was cheap, and it only got cheaper between 2010 and 2020. If people could secure loans for ~3% or 4% annual interest, well then a $100,000 loan only really costs $3,000 of interest a year to keep afloat. And if inflation is higher than that or at least similar, you're still beating the system.

So from 2010 through early 2022, times were good for tech companies. Startups could take off with massive growth, showing massive potential for something, and venture capitalists would throw infinite money at them in the hopes of pegging just one winner who will take off. And supporting the struggling investments or the long-haulers remained pretty cheap to keep funding.

You hear constantly about "Such and such app has 10-bazillion users gained over the last 10 years and has never once been profitable", yet the thing keeps chugging along because the investors backing it aren't stressed about the immediate future, and are still banking on that "eventually" when it learns how to really monetize its users and turn that profit.

The pandemic in 2020 took a magnifying-glass-in-the-sun effect to this, as EVERYTHING was forcibly turned online which pumped a ton of money and workers into tech investment. Simultaneously, money got really REALLY cheap, bottoming out with historic lows for interest rates.

Then the tide changed with the massive inflation that struck late 2021. Because this all-gas no-brakes state of things was also contributing to off-the-rails inflation (along with your standard-fare greedflation and price gouging, given the extremely convenient excuses of pandemic hardships and supply chain issues). The federal reserve whipped out interest rate hikes to try to curb this huge inflation, which is like a fire extinguisher dousing and suffocating your really-cool, actively-on-fire party where everyone else is burning but you're in the pool. And then they did this more, and then more. And the financial climate followed suit. And suddenly money was not cheap anymore, and new loans became expensive, because loans that used to compound at 2% a year are now compounding at 7 or 8% which, in the language of compounding, is a HUGE difference. A $100,000 loan at a 2% interest rate, if not repaid a single cent in 10 years, accrues to $121,899. A $100,000 loan at an 8% interest rate, if not repaid a single cent in 10 years, more than doubles to $215,892.

Now it is scary and risky to throw money at "could eventually be profitable" tech companies. Now investors are watching companies burn through their current funding and, when the companies come back asking for more, investors are tightening their coin purses instead. The bill is coming due. The free money is drying up and companies are under compounding pressure to produce a profit for their waiting investors who are now done waiting.

You get enshittification. You get quality going down and price going up. You get "now that you're a captive audience here, we're forcing ads or we're forcing subscriptions on you." Don't get me wrong, the plan was ALWAYS to monetize the users. It's just that it's come earlier than expected, with way more feet-to-the-fire than these companies were expecting. ESPECIALLY with Wall Street as the other factor in funding (public) companies, where Wall Street exhibits roughly the same temperament as a baby screaming crying upset that it's soiled its own diaper (maybe that's too mean a comparison to babies), and now companies are being put through the wringer for anything LESS than infinite growth that Wall Street demands of them.

Internal to the tech industry, you get MASSIVE wide-spread layoffs. You get an industry that used to be easy to land multiple job offers shriveling up and leaving recent graduates in a desperately awful situation where no company is hiring and the market is flooded with laid-off workers trying to get back on their feet.

Because those coin-purse-clutching investors DO love virtue-signaling efforts from companies that say "See! We're not being frivolous with your money! We only spend on the essentials." And this is true even for MASSIVE, PROFITABLE companies, because those companies' value is based on the Rich Person Feeling Graph (their stock) rather than the literal profit money. A company making a genuine gazillion dollars a year still tears through layoffs and freezes hiring and removes the free batteries from the printer room (totally not speaking from experience, surely) because the investors LOVE when you cut costs and take away employee perks. The "beer on tap, ping pong table in the common area" era of tech is drying up. And we're still unionless.

Never mind that last part.

And then in early 2023, AI (more specifically, Chat-GPT which is OpenAI's Large Language Model creation) tears its way into the tech scene with a meteor's amount of momentum. Here's Microsoft's prize pig, which it invested heavily in and is galivanting around the pig-show with, to the desperate jealousy and rapture of every other tech company and investor wishing it had that pig. And for the first time since the interest rate hikes, investors have dollar signs in their eyes, both venture capital and Wall Street alike. They're willing to restart the hose of money (even with the new risk) because this feels big enough for them to take the risk.

Now all these companies, who were in varying stages of sweating as their bill came due, or wringing their hands as their stock prices tanked, see a single glorious gold-plated rocket up out of here, the likes of which haven't been seen since the free money days. It's their ticket to buy time, and buy investors, and say "see THIS is what will wring money forth, finally, we promise, just let us show you."

To be clear, AI is NOT profitable yet. It's a money-sink. Perhaps a money-black-hole. But everyone in the space is so wowed by it that there is a wide-spread and powerful conviction that it will become profitable and earn its keep. (Let's be real, half of that profit "potential" is the promise of automating away jobs of pesky employees who peskily cost money.) It's a tech-space industrial revolution that will automate away skilled jobs, and getting in on the ground floor is the absolute best thing you can do to get your pie slice's worth.

It's the thing that will win investors back. It's the thing that will get the investment money coming in again (or, get it second-hand if the company can be the PROVIDER of something needed for AI, which other companies with venture-back will pay handsomely for). It's the thing companies are terrified of missing out on, lest it leave them utterly irrelevant in a future where not having AI-integration is like not having a mobile phone app for your company or not having a website.

So I guess to reiterate on my earlier point:

Drowned rats. Swimming to the one ship in sight.

[psychoticallytrans]

I think one of the most harmful concepts that is widely accepted is the idea of there being a universally applicable ideal for anything.

There is no ideal parent. Different children benefit from different mixes of expectations, attention, and guidance. A parent that one child finds supportive could be far too involved for a more independent child. A parent that one child finds to be expecting the best of them could be expecting more than a different child can give.

There is no ideal teacher. Different students learn best in different ways. One student may adore a teacher who primarily presents information visually, and another may struggle to stay engaged. One student may thrive in a class heavy on discussion, and another may retreat from the discussion and struggle to stay afloat.

There is no ideal partner. Different people want different levels of involvement with their partner. One person's attentive may be another person's uncomfortably clingy. One person's curious and engaged might be another person's nosy. There is no ideal brain, there is no ideal body, there is no ideal diet, there is no ideal environment, there is no ideal biome, there is no ideal amount of trees, there is no ideal family structure, there is no ideal set of policies, there is no ideal method of international trade, there is no meaningful singular ideal for anything at a broad scale.

Attempting to define, let alone chase, a singular ideal is fruitless at best. At worst, it results in carefully sanding off those all-important differences to try to make things fit. This inevitably results in hurting people, because "This should work for everyone." never works for everyone.

It's such a tempting idea to chase, because it feels like if you could find that singular point of perfection, you could fix so much. That you'd be able to keep so many people from being hurt and struggling. That there has to be a correct solution that you can apply universally, and then everything will be fine.

Instead, there is only what works, and what doesn't, and that changes dramatically with the situation. Everything is in context, and everything is in flux. You always have to look at the exact problem that you are trying to solve, and fit the solution to the situation. Because the situation is not going to fit itself to your solution.

[wholoveseggs]

Indulgences

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

Part Three

As your relationship with Elijah deepens, conflict arises and you are put in an impossible situation.

5.5k words - Warnings: smutttt, red door elijah {my interpretation of him}, drug use, adult themes, domestic abuse, violence, blood drinking.

Please be aware that this part is very violent. {Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four}{Moodboard->}

Elijah kept coming back, week after week, booking the platinum suite and requesting you. Every time you entered the suite and locked eyes with him your memories came flooding back in an instant. He would lay his head in your lap and tell you his heartaches while you stroked his dark hair. You learned how he was robbed of his life a thousand years ago, and how much guilt he carries in his heart. He would speak of his family with equal love and frustration, his world tipping further into turmoil with every passing day.

You admired his heart, his humanity, his fearlessness in facing his darkness. Sometimes, on rare occasions, his vulnerability would peek through and he would confide in you about his need for control and his fear of losing it. And sometimes, even more rarely, his heart would bleed for those he had killed and will kill. They were moments of weakness that he only let you see.

You began to care for him, truly care for him, past being his private dancer, past him being your cash cow. They were times when his perfect mask slipped just a little, showing a more fragile side of him, one you knew he had carefully crafted and honed to perfection. These moments revealed to you just how human he still was, despite having spent the past one thousand years as a vampire.

One night, as you gently traced your fingers through his dark hair while he rested his head on your lap, you softly asked, "Why did you choose me?”

Elijah, his gaze fixed on the opposite wall, murmured, "The way you looked at me... there was something about your eyes, they were so..."

"What?" you whispered, the intimate moment creating a tightness in your chest.

"Alive," he whispered back. "You looked at me as if you could see straight through my mask to the inner demon beyond and didn't care."

"I do see straight through you," you teased.

Elijah smirked, then averted his eyes. It was painfully evident to anyone who met him that beneath the facade of a perfect gentleman in tailored suits, a dark turmoil simmered within him, a side he struggled to keep subdued.

He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, as though trying to compose himself, and returned his gaze to yours.

"Do you like this job? Does it make you happy?" he asked curiously.

"Not happy, but it helps me survive." You replied honestly.

"If there was a way for you to never have to do this job again, would you take it?" Elijah asked seriously, studying you intently.

"It's complicated, this is my only way to earn money and stay afloat, I can't imagine life without it," you explained, a bit confused by his line of questions.

"If you had a choice," Elijah started, leaning in closer.

You sighed, borderline amused by how cliche he was being. It must have shown on your face because the side of Elijah's mouth twitched, and he continued.

"Would you want to leave with me, leave all of this, escape to a better place?" His question made your stomach lurch, and you sat up straighter, heart pounding. You weren't a fool; you had heard this offer from a few clients before. They all craved the fantasy of having a stripper for a girlfriend while playing the white knight, rescuing her from what they deemed a shameful profession. As you stared at Elijah for a long moment, sizing him up and searching his eyes, you realized he was different. Unlike the other men who made similar offers, Elijah possessed the power to fulfill his proposition—a considerable amount of power, so much that it left you feeling unsettled.

"I'd say take me to your kingdom," you jested, wearing a playful expression, not revealing any clear intention to go with him. 

He gave you a searching look and leaned towards you, hands on either side of your hips, pinning you to the couch. "Say the word, and we leave this instant," he murmured, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes.

"I'm not a fantasy, handsome. I'm a person with a life outside of this place, one you know nothing about," you remarked quietly.

"Then tell me," Elijah asked, the atmosphere around you intensifying, his gaze transforming into a look that pinned you down in more ways than one.

Running your fingers through your hair, you chewed the inside of your cheek, torn about whether revealing the truth would shift the power balance. The mysterious allure you carefully maintained gave you control over clients, resulting in higher tips. However, a part of you hesitated, not wanting Elijah to view you solely as a mystery. You longed for him to see the real you—a human with flaws and struggles like everyone else—rather than getting entangled in the fantasy of you.

"I'd rather not," you said firmly.

"Do you have terrible dark secrets?" He teased light heartedly, not daring to take his eyes away from yours.

"This," you said, gesturing around the room, "is not about me,"

You resisted this glimmer of hope, this tempting fantasy. Reality held you captive, you had troubles and responsibilities that hadn't magically disappeared just because Elijah walked in and requested to see you specifically.

"I disagree," he said gently, cupping your chin, turning your face to meet his. "It's very much about you. I would have never returned to this place if you weren't here,"

You blinked back the stinging feeling behind your eyes, and reached out and grabbed his tie, pulling him close so you were face to face.

"Exactly darling, it's all about you," you murmured, brushing your lips against his.

"That's not what I meant," Elijah whispered, but let you deepen the kiss regardless.

"Isn't it though?" you teased, sliding out from under him, standing up.

"This is where our night comes to an end, handsome," you announced, extending your hand out to him.

He grasped your outstretched hand, his dark brown eyes focused on you, and pulled you down until you were straddling him. You let out a soft gasp of surprise, your hands automatically resting on his chest.

"One more kiss," Elijah murmured, his voice muffled as he nuzzled your neck.

You gave a low laugh, tilting your head back, exposing your neck to him. You could feel his breath on your skin, warm and even, sending a thrill through your whole body. You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of his touch.

His hands traveled up your thighs, until they reached your hips, his thumbs hooking under the straps of your g-string. The heat from his fingers caused a blush to rise on your cheeks and your heart to beat faster.

"May I touch you?" Elijah asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your body tensing at the thought of him being intimate with you. This wasn't allowed, Mitch would fire you on the spot. No sleeping with clients. It was his number one rule. Mostly because the club would lose its license.

But you didn't care about any of that, all that mattered was Elijah. You wanted him to touch you, to bring you pleasure. You wanted him to take you away from the pain and sadness, if only for a little while. You swallowed thickly and nodded your head in consent.

Elijah's eyes darkened with lust, his hand sliding between your legs, fingers grazing your damp panties. You bit back a moan, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He continued his gentle teasing, his fingers rubbing circles against your clit, watching your responses.

"You are so lovely," he murmured, kissing your neck.

You whimpered softly, arching your back, pushing your breasts against his chest. You wanted more, needed more. You wanted him to make you forget everything except his touch.

He dipped two fingers into your aching core, a breathy moan escaping your lips. You clenched around him, your head swimming with desire. He moved his fingers in and out of you, curling them ever so slightly. He brought his thumb up and traced small circles against your clit. You gasped, your eyes fluttering closed, your climax swiftly approaching.

"That's it, beautiful," Elijah whispered, nipping at your ear.

You came undone, the tension in your body melting away, your hips bucking against his hand. You felt a sharp pain in your neck as he sunk his fangs into your skin. Your legs trembled as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, your breathing ragged, your skin slick with sweat. He continued to stroke you, his movements drawing out your orgasm until you were a trembling mess.

He let out a low groan, pulling his mouth away from your neck, blood smeared on his lips. His eyes were completely black, dark veins snaking down his cheeks.

You gently ran your fingertips over his cheeks, marveling at the creature that lurked beneath the mask of a gentleman. He was breathtakingly beautiful and terrifyingly deadly. Your touch was enough to calm him and his features returned to their human appearance.

He pulled his fingers from you and brought them to his mouth, licking away your arousal with a predatory growl.

You giggled and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. His hands rested on your hips, his grip tightening. He returned the kiss, a sweet yet heated one that took your breath away.

"We shouldn't have done that," you whispered, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Why not? Did you not enjoy yourself?" Elijah questioned, his eyes full of concern.

"No, no it's not that, I...I mean, we're not allowed to have sex with the clients," you confessed, embarrassed by your admission.

"Do you still see me as just a client?" He asked with a raised brow.

"No, but Mitch will. I'll lose my job." You mumbled, biting your bottom lip.

He ran his fingers through your hair and cupped your chin, his eyes boring into yours. "Then come with me," he murmured, his lips ghosting against yours.

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his, taking a deep breath. You wanted to say yes, you really did, but the reality was still there. He kisses you again, gently biting on his lip, the taste of his blood making your skin tingle. You felt the sting of the bite mark on your neck fade, and you pulled back. His fingers traced the area where the wound was, his eyes slightly far away.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Why?" You asked, your heart skipping a beat.

"I didn't ask for your permission," he explained, his jaw clenched.

You placed your palm on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath your fingers, soothing the storm inside of him. "It's fine," you reassured him.

His expression softened and he smiled at you, the love and affection in his gaze filling you with warmth. You never had anyone look at you like that before and you found yourself wishing that the moment would never end, but reality set in.

"Time to go, darling." He said quietly, his breath fanning over your face. "You won't remember this until you see me again,"

You kissed him one last time and rose off his lap, swaying on your heels. You could feel his eyes on you as you stretched lazily, earning his appreciation.

"Have a good night, handsome." you murmured, teasingly blowing him a kiss as you strutted out the door.

You sat in the dressing room, looking down at the stack of hundreds on your lap. Once again confused on how you made that much. You couldn't remember a single detail of your time with the wealthy client in the platinum suite, it unnerved you. You wondered if the molly was strong enough to block out your memory and leave you totally empty.

"I hope your not fucking suit guy," Stacy remarked, walking by your chair, admiring herself in the mirror, a dark purple silk robe draped loosely around her body.

"I'm not." You assured her, shoving the hundred dollar bills back into your bag.

"You better not be, Mitch would fire you so fast, not to mention Jordan would be devastated," she remarked, a smirk on her face.

"I don't do that," you repeated, watching her change her attitude.

"There's an exception to every rule," Stacy remarked, pursing her red stained lips and applying another coat of lipstick.

"I'm not a cheater. Elijah is just a wealthy client who likes to talk, you know the type," you said with a shrug.

"Elijah," Stacy echoed, laughing. "You're on a first name basis with him? God, you might as well be fucking him," she taunted, raising her brows at you.

"Fuck off, Stacy," you snapped, glowering at her, refusing to let her get a rise out of you.

Jordan walked in, his usual friendly expression on his face, an extra spark in his eyes, and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. He pressed his lips to your cheek in greeting.

"How's my baby?" he asked cheerfully.

"Good," you mumbled, quickly moving your bag out of sight.

"Hiii Jordy," Stacy sang, batting her eyelashes at him.

He flashed her a quick grin before turning his attention back to you. You could feel the knot in your stomach slowly untying itself, he was in a good mood today.

"Let's go get dinner, I know this great bar near here," Jordan said eagerly, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

You gave a half hearted smile, nodding your head. You would rather go home to a quiet apartment but you knew better than to spoil his mood with your defiance.

"Sounds fun," you murmured, forcing a smile.

Jordan and you walked out of the club, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. He glanced down at you, his face still carrying a smile, but his eyes holding a warning.

"You okay baby?" He asked.

"Tired," you replied simply, hoping it would be enough to explain your earlier behavior. "Is it okay if we just go home?"

"No! It's Friday, and I need time with my girl," he practically whined, as he guided you to his car.

Your heart sank at the tone in his voice, knowing very well he wouldn't take no for an answer. It was a game he played to get you to do what he wanted and give him an excuse to fight later, usually for being stubborn or a stuck up bitch.

"My shift was so long," you mumbled.

He shoved you into the passengers seat, closing the door before you could reach the handle. He got into the drivers side and turned the key, a sly smirk on his face. He grabbed your wrist, squeezing it tightly, his nails biting into your skin, he leaned in, his lips next to your ear.

"Why is it so hard to please you baby?" he whispered, his tone seething.

You stared at him, keeping your face neutral, dread churning in your stomach. You could feel the bruises beginning to form on your wrist, his anger slowly rising. He squeezed even tighter and you winced, a strangled cry leaving your lips. He let go of your wrist and slipped his hand between your legs, inching his fingers to your mound, squeezing roughly.

"This belongs to me, baby. How many times do I have to remind you that you're mine?" Jordan sneered, tightening his hold on you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears burning behind your eyes, and looked away, trying to detach yourself from the situation.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you murmured, shrinking away from him.

"Damn straight," he said, releasing his grip on you and turning his attention to the road, "Dinner and drinks at Rousseaus, you’ll love it."

You gave a stiff nod, trying to ignore the fear and anger in your heart.

Rousseau's was more crowded than you expected, but you both managed to find a table. You sat and waited while Jordan got drinks.

Other men always looked at you, wherever you went, it always made you uncomfortable. Especially so when you were with Jordan, his jealousy could cause an explosion at any moment. You wished he hadn't insisted on coming to the bar tonight, there was a feeling in your gut that told you something was going to go wrong.

When he returned with the drinks his mood had dramatically shifted, his eyes darting around the room as he slid into his seat next to you.

You picked at your finger nails, chipping away at the paint, and scooted your chair a few inches away from his. You could feel his eyes on you, seething with jealousy, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.

"Maybe we should go," you suggested, shooting him a wary look.

"We just got here and I ain't done drinking," he replied, placing his hand on your knee, caressing your skin with his fingertips.

"Okay," you said in a small voice, lifting your eyes to meet his gaze.

He brought his hand up to your face, lightly brushing the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. You could tell by the look in his eyes that something wasn't right.

"Stacy was telling me something very interesting about you," he whispered, his voice dripping with suspicion.

"Oh?" You asked, feigning innocence, heart beginning to race.

"Yeah," Jordan mused, gently tracing a pattern on your skin. "She told me how you kept having one on ones in the platinum suite. Absolutely raking in the tips. Does that sound like something you're familiar with?" His words were soft, but his voice was harsh.

Your stomach dropped at his question, realizing what he was getting at. You stared back at him blankly, trying to formulate a response. You thought about lying to him, you were a good liar, you did it everyday of your life. Jordan was visibly seething, but he wouldn't do anything to you in public, so you kept your guard up just in case.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, babe," you said in the sweetest, yet most patronizing tone, grabbing his hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly.

He narrowed his eyes at you and took another sip of his drink. Your stomach turned, you knew he wasn't finished, this was far from over.

"If I find out you're lying to me," he started, his voice menacing. "I'll kill you."

The color drained from your face, fear coursing through your veins. You wanted to bolt out the door, run for your life, anything to get away from him, but you didn't. You looked away from his terrifying eyes, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill.

That's when you saw him, sitting near the window, watching you intently. Elijah.

The reality of his existence hit you like a swift blow. He was a vampire. He had bared his heart and soul to you. Just hours ago, you had been in his embrace, experiencing pleasure as he fed off you. Then he would erase the memory from your mind, leaving you oblivious to what he truly was. He offered you a knowing smile, his dark eyes piercing into yours. Your cheeks flushed red as you looked away. Despite everything, a part of you yearned to run to him, to forget about the monster lurking beside you.

"Excuse me for a second," you whispered, letting go of Jordan’s hand and sliding your seat back.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Jordan snapped, his grip on your knee tightening, his fingers digging painfully into your skin.

"Just the bathroom," you muttered, struggling to keep your composure.

He gave you a steely look, before releasing your knee. You gathered your purse and rose to your feet and without glancing back at him, headed for the bathroom.

You felt Elijah's presence behind you when you got to the hallway. Fear churned inside you like a whirlpool, as you turned to face him, not completely sure what you would say to him.

"It's not a good time for a talk," you said in a low voice, opening the door to the ladies room, hoping Elijah would get the hint.

"You seem distressed," he said quietly, concern clear in his voice.

"Come in, you can't be out here with me," you whispered, tugging on his hand, pulling him into the bathroom.

You checked to make sure the coast was clear and locked the door, feeling Elijah's eyes following you.

"Is that your boyfriend?" He teased in a gentle tone, clasping his hands in front of him, subtly checking you out.

"Yes," you said softly, leaning against the counter, staring down at the floor.

"Is he why you won't run away with me?," Elijah asked, taking a tentative step towards you.

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, as he placed his hands on the counter, boxing you in between him and the sink.

"Among other things," you replied evasively, tilting your head up, your gaze resting on his.

"Name one of them," he purred, bringing his hand up to your hair, twirling a stray strand around his finger.

"You've messed with my memories, Elijah. When I'm not around you, I don't remember our time together; I’m frightened of you," you admitted, your body stiffening. "I blame it on the drugs I take, I get anxious about my mental health," you trailed off, feeling shame rising in your throat.  "But then I'm with you and..I feel calm, I feel safe, like you'd protect me. And, it scares me, this emotional whiplash is taking its toll,”

"I'm sorry for frightening you, that wasn't my intention," he said gently, his hands lifting to rest on your hips, gently lifting you onto the counter.

"Everything is... complicated, Elijah," you murmured, running your fingers through your hair, trying to muster an answer.

"I know," he murmured, leaning in and kissing your neck, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. “I won't compel you anymore, my dear, I trust you,”

You closed your eyes, inhaling his wonderful scent, it made your stomach flutter with butterflies. This didn't feel real, you hadn't felt this happy in so long, it was surreal.

Your hands went to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath your palms, and his lips met yours. The kiss was soft, affectionate, and full of meaning. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, never wanting to let go.

"You don't love him do you?," Elijah whispered in your ear, trailing his finger down your jaw.

"No," You breathed, shaking your head, grasping the lapels of his suit. "I couldn't, I try, I have for years, but I just can't,"

He hummed his agreement and kissed you with more passion than you'd experienced with any man before. You could feel his desire, his urgency, and you craved him. Your fingers buried themselves in his hair, letting out a soft gasp when his hands slipped under your dress, gently kneading your thighs.

"No, we can't, not with Jordan here," you rasped, reluctantly pushing his hands away. "Please don't. If he suspects something..." You whispered, trailing off, swallowing hard.

Elijah glanced down at your hands on his chest, his brow furrowing as he noticed your bruised and swollen wrist.

"You're hurt," he observed, examining the marks on your skin, his expression a strange mixture of anger and concern.

"It's fine," You reassured him, trying to pull away from his grip, "just forget about it. Really, I'm ok,"

"He hurt you," Elijah insisted, frowning.

"I had an attitude with him," You mumbled, yanking your arm back, and cradling your wrist in your lap, and nervously twisting the hem of your dress in your fingers.

"Y/n," he said softly. "This isn't the first time he's hurt you is it?"

You looked up at him through tear filled eyes, your mask of composure finally slipping.

"No," you said in a small voice.

"How long has he done this to you?" He asked in a low voice, cupping your face in his palms.

"Years," you choked, no longer able to hold in your emotions, tears trickling down your face. You felt such pure humiliation, embarrassment that Elijah had seen such weakness in you.

"I have to go," you stammered, rubbing your eyes and sniffling.

"You don't have to leave," Elijah insisted, bringing your face up to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

You froze at his question, wondering what kind of answer he wanted.

"It ruins the fantasy," you said with a dry laugh, trying to brush it off as some stupid joke.

Elijah furrowed his brow at you, looking shocked at your response.

"Do you think I judge you? See you as just a stripper?" He asked earnestly, all of his usual confidence dissipating.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak, but not daring to lie to him, watching him through watery eyes.

"I told you about my life, my father, the torment he put my family through, how could I judge you?," Elijah asked, lowering his face to yours, our lips inches apart, his scent flooding your senses.

"I don't know," you whispered, keeping your gaze fixed on his, savoring his kindness.

"We'll get through this," Elijah whispered in your ear. "Together."

"I have to go," you whispered, before the weight of what he said could sink in.

"Walk out with me, you never have to be near him again," Elijah begged.

"No, please, it'll make everything worse," You pleaded, sliding off the counter. "Don't give me hope, I can't handle hope."

"Y/n," Elijah began, sounding exasperated.

"I'll see you at the club, okay? Goodbye." you said quietly, before he could protest anymore, leaving the bathroom.

Tears filled your eyes as you walked through the bar, taking slow deep breaths to calm yourself. Jordan was still sitting at the table, looking extremely impatient. You tried to ignore the unsettling feeling in your gut as you sat down. He swirled the liquid in his glass, his expression blank. 

"Took you long enough, what were you doing in there?" Jordan sneered, pinning you with his icy glare.

You could now remember everything about Elijah, how he made you feel, all those hours together in the platinum suite. Everything. And now here, looking at Jordan, your abuser, the man who took so much from you, was such a contrast that it was almost unbearable. You were revolted by his very presence.

"I just needed a moment to myself, you know? After what you said about killing me," You forced a tight smile, taking a sip of your cocktail, your throat had never been drier.

Jordan scoffed, his features darkening with annoyance. "Let's go, this bar fucking sucks," he snarled, slamming his empty glass down on the table, rose to his feet and swiped his keys off the table.

You took the last sip of your drink and reached into your purse, pulling out your wallet. You felt his hand rest on your arm, you were almost paralyzed with fear.

"What the fuck is that?" Jordan snarled, looking at the tips you earned from Elijah earlier.

You swallowed thickly, completely taken aback, you had no idea what to do.

"I... I got a bonus today," you said in a feeble tone.

Jordan stared down at the money, completely enraged. "Stacy was right wasn't she? You've been fucking that rich asshole," he whispered, his fist closing around your arm, dragging you to your feet.

He quickly guided you through the crowd and outside the bar, pulling you towards the nearby alley. Your mind reeled with panic, realizing what was happening. Your legs no longer functioned as he dragged you behind the building.

"Baby, let's go back inside, I don't understand what's going on," you pleaded, trying to regain composure.

"I asked you a question. Tell me," Jordan growled, his fingertips dug into your arm painfully.

"It was a bonus," you snapped.

His fist connected with your face in a sudden and violent burst of rage. The impact was so intense it dazed you, the air being knocked out of your lungs as you tried to keep your footing.

"I know you're fucking some gangster and keeping all the tips for yourself," he shouted, his hands wrapping around your throat, forcing you against the wall.

Your hands scrambled for his, trying to pry his fingers off, his grip squeezing tighter as the lack of air made your vision blur.

"I asked you nicely and you have the nerve to fucking lie to me? That just shows me that you don't love me at all," he yelled, rage boiling in his veins, his grip nearly crushing your windpipe.

"Please..." you whispered, through ragged gasps for breath.

"I've done nothing but take care of you since we met and this is how you repay me?" He shouted, his grip tightening even more, your entire body struggling to get oxygen, tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

You brought your knee up as hard as you could to his groin. Jordan groaned and doubled over, loosening his grip enough to allow you to wrench yourself free.

You began to run in the direction of the street, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. But he caught up, grabbing your hair and forcing you to the ground. You cried out in pain as he landed on top of you, his hands roaming all over your body as he held you down, squeezing every inch of skin he could grab.

"Shh, shh, don't scream baby, don't scream," he hushed you, slapping his hand over your mouth. "It's okay I forgive you."

"Get off of me!" You cried, as he frantically tugged on your dress. He didn't waste another second, gripping your jaw tightly, his fingers digging in painfully.

"You think I'd let you cheat on me and get away with it?" Jordan gritted out, his hands wrapping around your throat again, increasing the pressure. Your screams were only barely audible now, your vision starting to fade, everything slowly turning black. 

Suddenly there was no weight on your chest. You gasped for air, taking desperate shallow breaths, looking up at Elijah who was pinning Jordan to the wall by the throat. Elijah's eyes were completely black, gray veins stretched out under his eyes.

"Do you know what it feels like to be unable to breathe?" He growled, his grip tightening, Jordan's face turning a ghastly shade of blue. "The fear, the terror that overwhelms your body. To know that no matter how hard you fight, you're going to die?"

Jordan's eyes bulged in fear, his hands clutching at his throat, trying to get away.

"You were going to kill her, weren't you?" Elijah seethed, his voice trembling with rage.

"Please... I'm sorry," Jordan wheezed, his voice barely audible.

"She begged for mercy and you ignored her, why should I show you the same courtesy?" Elijah asked, in an eerily calm tone.

Jordan's eyes widened as he struggled against Elijah, desperately trying to loosen the vampire's grip.

"Cockroach," he snarled, his fingers curling tighter around his neck, lifting him up, Jordan's feet no longer touching the ground. "Be still."

"No... no," Jordan squealed pathetically, "what are you?"

Elijah pulled Jordan's face close to his, Jordan's limbs thrashing at his sides, trying to pry away the iron grip on his neck. Elijah gave him a sinister smile, his fangs gleaming in the dim light.

"Death," Elijah whispered, before swiftly snapping his neck.

The blood drained from your face, your head spinning, everything feeling as if it was happening in slow motion. His body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, an unnatural twist to his neck, Jordan's life no longer there.

You felt your heart stop, like someone had thrust a knife through your chest, you almost couldn't breathe. He was dead. Gone. A part of you was happy, euphoric even, he would never touch you again, hit you again, torture you any more. You never felt any pleasure when you were with him, the man was your prison, he had no redeeming qualities and yet, the scars still remained.

Elijah knelt in front of you, pulling off his suit jacket and draping it across your shoulders. Your hands were numb as they slipped through the holes, holding it shut in the front.

"We can't leave him like that," you whispered, staring at Jordan's body, slumped against the brick.

"I'll handle it," Elijah murmured. "Can you stand?"

You nodded, rising on unsteady feet, grateful when he wrapped his arms around you, supporting you as you stumbled. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to his car, quickly setting you down in the passenger seat.

"Do you wish for me to take you home?" Elijah asked gently, seeing that you'd retreated inside of yourself, staring into the distance.

"No." you said hoarsely, resting your head against the glass.

He didn't seem surprised, opening the door, slipping inside and starting the car. His hand rested on your knee, drawing lazy circles on the bare skin, the effect was soothing and you closed your eyes, taking slow steady breaths.

"My home it is, then.”

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four}{Moodboard->}

PS: There will be a part four -xo

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vervain3 ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡

[natsunenuko]

TW // mental issues, mental absue, harassment, surgery/blood

I'm sorry this one is so long, but please carry on reading. It's a chance for me to not only speak about the situation but let out some steam too. It is unfortunate this announcement comes at the same time the flood occurs on the south of my home country (Poland) and I'm in the endangered zone, luckily so far safe, as I feel my head can't handle more stress.

It's been so long since I've been this personal online. I realized how I didn't feel the urge to vent for 3-4 years by now which is a sign of improving mental health. But my healing is still a process, and I'm afraid it's too hard to carry this rock alone at this point. I fought my thoughts if I should do this and I think just as deeply as I write right now. Yet, I know it's better late than never and I thank deeply my friends for helping me out recently as well as in the past in my lowest. I wholeheartedly owe my life to you.

I couldn't ask for better friends. As years verified, even long lasting relationships might be nothing but a mask and I had to learn the hard way. I ended a friendship of 13 years at the time over a misunderstanding. Other person I put my trust on was nothing but a groomer with morally corrupted sexual tendencies who would take advange of a group of minors while being the only adult among them, yet acting like a person much younger than all of them and pressuring all their mental issues on children instead of seeking help. The latter, I might speak of more in detail when I'm ready.

Long time ago I tried calling out for help but back then, the intrusive thoughts won; "Others have it worse, just work harder.", "No one will give you anything for free, no one will care.", "What people will think of you?". and I would only speak about these things in a closed circle of my friends.

I tried my best in silence by not giving up on my creative passion, working restlessly for years, improving. Hoping I could reach the point I can sustain myself purely on what I make.

But the problem is not being self-sufficient. And it's not about my art...

All of my life it has been me, my momma and my granny. The other two important figures weren't there for us, by choice. (which is hard to say if losing someone you loved is worse than not being cared for in the first place) My rather young self at the time didn't put much thought about it as I didn't understand it but something always felt wrong; my only issues at the time was being "that weird, quiet kid with little to no friends". But despite the hardships, my momma has always been my hero, working without a time for a break or rest so we could live happily, to afford something special from time to time.

However in 2014 my momma has been hospitalised and almost lost her life to wrongly treated ovarian cyst (cyst rapture), with enough blood loss to require emergency surgery...

From that point on things went downhill and the result of that we feel to this very day. To stay afloat we fell into a severe dept. (We didn't have any savings, could only rely on borrowing money or loans) And since I was a child as all of this happened, I've only learned about it all throughfully as I entered adulthood, so I wouldn't need to worry about anything and "just be a kid". Which I really understand, but it doesn't make it easier to handle.

And by now, for several years I keep on trying to earn money, so I could free my momma from this chain and let her live, not survive. I always wanted to get through this quietly, because I never, ever wanted to burden anyone with my home problems. But it grew to a point I might need to grab anything to climb towards the light

The goal is $10 000... which is scarily large number.

I list all the options but Kofi is preferred to keep track of the funds!

My commissions are HERE! (the sheet will receive a slight update in upcoming days) My Kofi is HERE! (Level 4 Tea is free headshot drawing every month!) HERE's other services I do (adopts, brushes, etc) I plan to do paid requests for my friday streams on occasion! Anything else I come up with I hope to include in here! Every person who donates will be part of "Thank you" list where I hope to shoutout everybody, cause every penny matters. I want this situation to end...

[nothomegal]

“The little owl family” (Part 6)

(RZ!Michael Myers x GNReader)

Summary: your and your little sister’s life had an 180° turn when your parents got into a severe car crash, dying on the spot. You, being already past 18 had to figure out how to keep things afloat and give yourself, specially your sister, a good future. And you did! It was hard but you did it and became the absolute hero in the little girl’s eyes. People would often involuntary smile at the dynamic of your two, so wholesome and supportive, the perfect family bond.Bond that a certain Boogeyman noticed as well…

Warnings: a very light reference to suicidal thoughts at the beginning.

Word Count: 4k

Additional info: Gender Neutral reader. (S/N) = sister’s name.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

It's been a day or two after that late meeting between (S/N) and Michael. And... Things went oddly well from then! The little girl became more relaxed in his presence, and would often send him small waves when (Y/N) wasn't looking, and Michael would often answer with the same little wave. It became a little secret game of theirs, it was simple yet fun. The numerous close calls of getting caught or suspected by the older sibling would always awake the childish mischief inside of the man, the possibility to fool around a bit made him feel oddly comfortable and at ease, like momentarily experiencing the childhood he never had.

He also noticed that (Y/N) themselves began to act more on ease around him. There weren't as many death glares sent at his direction, mostly just some cassual glances as if to check what he's up to or where he is. He won't lie, he kinda missed the attention he used to recieve, but this calmer and passive (Y/N) wasn't too bad neither, it kinda made him feel more normal and welcomed actually.

But soon he began to notice that maybe this sudden passivity didn't start out of nowhere, and the reason would be uncovered pretty soon...

. . .

A light groan escaped through (Y/N)'s lips as they make their way towards the kitchen after putting their little sister to sleep. While walking, they've been holding their bandaged hand close to their chest, an instinctive attempt to soothe the throbbing pain that only increased over the days. They're pretty sure their awful sleeping also played a huge part of why the pain is so unbearable. The countless nights they've spent guarding the door of (S/N)'s room and staying on high alert durning most of the day over the past week really drained them, both phisically and mentally. Leaving just enough energy to breathe and maintain a positive actitude around their sister.

They let a sight of relief once they stopped in front of a counter that had all the medicines in. The older sibling reaches for the container of painkillers only for it to be suddenly snatched away right under their nose.

Already knowing who did that, they slowly turn towards the responsible of it, tiredly glaring at that stupid emotionless masked face they hated with burning passion.

The two of them remained still, observing each other in silence. Michael didn't even tilt his head, meaning that he wasn't wondering or asking, no... He wanted to know what they're doing and he wanted to know it now.

—"...What?"— you eventually blurt out.

No answer or movement.

—"I'm not going to kill myself, I just need some medicine because my wrist hurts..."— you elaborate tiredly. —"Can you give in back, please?"—

Still nothing.

The container was actually at a reachable distance. If (Y/N) really wanted they could probably snatch it back. But of course they're not stupid to attempt that, Michael is a very deceiving specimen and things are never as simple as they look when it comes to him and his shenanigans, (Y/N) learned that the hard way.

—"Look. I'm. In. Pain. I need this because I no longer can handle it. Please, give me back the container."—

Nothing.

They grit their teeth out of anger and frustration. Is this bastard mocking them now? Silently enjoying their suffering? Or he's genuinely oblivious of their clearly not okay state?

—"You did this to me, remember?"— you snap as you lift your bandaged hand to show it. —"You broke my wrist, it's been hurting for days and right now it's freaking unbearable. So please, just give me the painki-"—

Their heart nearly stopped when their injured wrist was suddenly grabbed by the masked man. All (Y/N) could do now is stay frozen and helplessly stare at the black eye sockets of the rubber mask, which were staring right back at their shocked expression. They didn't even notice their hands became shaky, anxiety slowly flooding their mind as they suddenly remember who is the man in front of them.

Michael Myers, the man who escaped Smith's Grove by killing with his bare hands anyone who stayed on his way, the man who scarred his own little sister for life by kidnapping her and killing everyone dear to her just because, the man that somehow escaped death and kept his reign of terror for an entire year without anyone being able to do anything... This man, this monster did horrible things, things that he can do to them whever he wants, and he may do it right now as punishment for their boldness and lack of self preservation.

(Y/N) doesn't even know what face they're making, their emotions are too unstable. The stress, frustration and exhaustion are way too much to handle right now. They can't even use the energy to mantain a stone face, not when they're trying to keep themselves from breaking down on the floor and scream out of the frustration.

They just want it to stop. They want him to go away and leave them and their sister alone. They want to stop feeling worry every second of their existence, to stop these anxiety spikes whenever the blade of his knife runs through their body as he teases them, to stop feeling fear whenever his dark gaze moves away from them and is casted on their little sister, to stop feeling guilt that creeps through them whenever they see sadness appear on the little girl's face when she catches them being upset, they wish they could make her smile again, please, make her real smile return...

They... They just want to stop feeling in danger... Feeling hopeless... Feeling like they failed...

Please...

Please... Make it all stop.

Whatever look they had, it was enough to make Michael suddenly let go of their arm. However, instead of walking away or stand still, he steps forward and closer to them, body langage unreadable as always.

(Y/N) doesn't move, they don't even look at him at this point. They simply let their arms fall limply on their sides and lower their gaze, not even noticing the hot tears sliding down their face.

They're so tired, they're done.

Their breath hitched when their body made contact with Michael's larger and warmer one, following comes the sensation of something equally solid and warm wrapping around their form in a firm grip.

The embrace was tight, maybe even tighter that the one from the night he broke in. It was hard to breathe, though (Y/N) is unsure if it's due Michael's strength or their own choked sobs they could no longer hold back. This gesture, though simple, broke them completely...

The more they quietly cried, the tighter the embrace got, as if the man was really trying to force them to spit all the angst out, and maybe he was. It's no secret that Michael has no knowlege about comfort, it's something he lacked most of his life after all. But now, right after seeing their gaze change, everything inside of him is yelling to grab (Y/N) and never let go. Their gaze... Oh, he knows that look.

That look on their eyes... It wasn't fear, it wasn't anger, it wasn't even hate. It was something dull, dull and lifeless, almost pleading for him to...

He presses his masked face against them. The only thought of having their blood on him makes him feel weird. Seeing (Y/N), who's usually composed, strong willed and straight up wild when it comes to the safety of their sister, so weak and broken in his arms, made the man feel very odd, a nasty and unpleasant type of odd.

—"...You."—

They grumble through gritted teeth as they press their forhead against his shoulder, as if really trying to hide their face.

—"I hate you..."—

He can feel (Y/N)'s fist collide with his back. Though the impact wasn't weak at all, it wasn't enough to make Michael let go, all the opposite, he only brought them closer.

—"I hate you."—

They repeat a bit lounder, tone cold yet broken.

—"Why do you still tormenting me? Why?... Why don't you just... J-Just..."—

Their voice breaks at the end of the sentence and is replaced by more cries. The punches soon ceased too, their hand slowly sliding off Michael's back. Soon their sobs began to quiet down and turn into ragged uneven breaths. They are mad, at themselves, at this man, at the world, at fucking everything!... But what pisses them off the most is that this bastard, the main responsible of their mysery, the devil everyone knows for the atrocities he commited, he's... He's somehow comforting them... Genuinely comforting them...

—"Why are you doing this?..."—

Silence.

—"Why are you making it look like you care?..."—

Because he does.

—"Why?... Why?"—

They kept repeating the same question over and over despite knowing that they will never get an answer. And to be fair, even if Michael could answer, he wouldn't. He doesn't know himself what he's doing or where this attachment came from or leads to, all he knows is that he desires to have (Y/N) close, hold into them like a predator into it's pray and never ever let go. But even with this unholy obsession, he can't deny the strange sense of comfort and completion (Y/N) brings him just by being around. Ever since (S/N) questioned him about his intentions and the strange attachment with the older sibling, he couldn't unsee or deny the way they make him feel. And even when they say they hate him, glare at him, try to hurt him... Even after all these unwelcoming actions, he just can't stop himself from wanting them around, from wanting them...

The two remain like this for a long time, even after (Y/N) stopped talking and crying they didn't move.

(Y/N) was a mess, both emotionally and mentally, yet they couldn't deny the fact of feeling a tiny bit better after letting it all out. Michael's grip on them remained tight, strong like steel, impossible to escape. It was like a cage... But a very needed cage.

No matter how much they try to deny it, deep down (Y/N) knows that they needed this, they needed someone to hold them tight as they spit all their concerns, pain and frustrations out. But that means nothing, that doesn't change the way they view Michael. Though his gesture is laudable, how do they know it's genuine? How do they know he's not taking advantage of them? Could this be his attempt to deceive them? Make them emotionaly dependent? And for what?... For what?!

What does he want from them for fuck's sake?!

They take one last deep breath, shuting down the swarm of thoughts and questions and finally calming down enough to speak properly.

—"Alright... I'm better, a bit better."—

But Michael made no movements, his grip remained strong.

They sigh again, a bit more annoyed.

—"Michael, really. I'm okay now. I-"—

They tried to lift their hands up to push themselves away, but a sudden yelp came out when they moved their injured wrist too harshly, making them recoil and Michael to finally let go.

—"Okay-... I'm not okay."— you grumble as you hold your bandaged wrist closely, trying to soothe the throbing pain.

When the ache somehow stabilized and (Y/N) looked up at Michael again, they were surprised to see him holding their car keys right in front of their face. They stare at the item a bit dumbfounded, questioning where the hell he wants them to go, until it eventually clicks.

They know what he wants them to do, and this is a golden oportunity to recieve propper help to their injury. But the anxiety and guilt of leaving their little sister alone, again, at night and with this man, is already eating them alive.

A couple of seconds of inactivity pass, and though (Y/N) was taking quite some time to decide, Michael remained stoic as a statue, patiently waiting for them to decide.

—"I..."— you sigh again, but with more determination. —"Nevermind. You're right, I need to go."—

They dry off the remaining tears on their face with a single rough wipe with their forearm. They have to quit crying, they embarassed themselves enough by having a meltdown in front of this bastart, which apparently was so bad and pity that he had to comfort them. Beside, they must stay strong, not just for their own sake but also for (S/N).

They reach for the key, but don't take it right away.

—"The terms are the same i suppose. I stay quiet about you and you don't disturb my sister, yes?"—

There is no movements from the man. Despite not seeing his eyes, (Y/N) had a gut feeling that he understood and accepted the deal. They mutter a quiet 'okay' before eventually taking the keys, without any issue suprisingly. Once all was settled, the older sibling steps aside but doesn't go towards the front door right away, instead they walk towards the stairs.

—"I'll make a quick check on (S/N) before I go, okay?"— you quickly explain before going up, not bothering to see if he did anything in response or not.

Suprisingly, Michael doesn't follow them, not this time. He remained at the bottom with his head turned towards the staircase.

To some the attention and worry (Y/N) shows for their little sister may seem overwhelming, but for Michael it is something to admire. They always place the little one in front of their own needs and safety, always checking on her and making sure she's safe and happy. Even after he came into their life, he saw the ammount of effort (Y/N) had always put into mantaining (S/N) away from him, to keep her hopes strong and always mantain that happy smile despite knowing it will dissappear as soon as he comes near...

(Y/N) is a good sibling, a very good and caring sibling. Is that how Judith could've been with him if given a chance? Would she ever made the same effort to treat him the way (Y/N) treats their little one? Would he be able to be as good to Angel? Was it too much to ask for her to remember him, to know who he is, to know her big brother was back home and be together as family ones again? Was it really so much to ask?...

"I wanna help you..."

"...But I don't know how..."

"...I wanna help you... But I don't know how..."

"...I wanna help you, but I don't..."

"YOU MOTHER FUCKER!"

Something inside of his chest squeezed uncomfortably, painfuly almost. He still remember these words and the way 'boo' screamed at him and the hate in her voice. It hurts, it hurts so much every time he remembers... He doesn't like the pain, it upsets him. Just why couldn't she recognize him?... What should he have done for that night to turn out different?...

The sound of footsteps softly going down the stair broke his train of thoughts.

—"Good news, (S/N) is still asleep. Doubt she will wake up until sunrise but I wouldn't go upstairs anyways, that girl sure wakes up from the randomest noises."— you comment quite casually.

However, they suddenly stop in their tracks when they reached the bottom and noticed that Michael wasn't following them with his gaze. A tiny detail that threw them off quite a lot.

—"...Are you alright?"—

The question made the tall man pause and realize that his hands were tightly clutched into fists. He slowly relaxes them, though an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth and the general tension in his body remained.

Despite not having a clear answer, (Y/N) gives him a somehow knowledgeable look.

—"Remembered something bad?"—

He stays unresponsive for a moment, until he moves his head, giving a slow and barely noticible nod.

(Y/N) of course got a tag surprised, since it's the very first time Michael actually does something to answer them instead of staring blankly and let them figure out the message on their own. They don't focus on the sudden gesture though, instead they let out a small hum as they nod as well.

—"It happens... I too remember things I don't want to, a pretty nasty feeling gotta say."—

No answer.

(Y/N) seemed like they wanted to say more things, they decided against it and instead resumed their walk towards the front door. They stop to put some shoes and jacket, not minding too much the fact of them wearing pijamas. But before exiting, they look back at Michael's tall figure staring at them from the darkness, his pale masked face being the only visible feature.

—"I'll do my best to return before dawn, but no promisses."—

No reaction from the man, as expected.

They turn around and open the front door and pause again.

—"...Thank you, Michael."—

And after these words, they finaly step outside and softly close the door.

The masked man only tilted his head at this last sentence. Though these were three very simple words, he couldn't ignore how they affected him.

And the tension and ache from his memories were now completely gone, as if these bad feelings never came in the first place...

. . .

After a long wait and a ton of scolding from the doctors for neglecting their sleep and health, (Y/N) was finally driving back home. Luckly their wrist is healing fine, the sourse of the pain were the bad placement of the bandages and the overuse of their injured hand. Though they don't remember all the details, it seems like they'll be okay.

It was already dawn and the sun was slowly raising. However, they weren't too concerned, it was still early and there is no way (S/N) is awake, that girl sure enjoys lazy mornings after all.

And even after arriving home everything seemed in order, no weird vibes coming out the building and no funny feelings in their gut.

But the second they enter and close the front door...

—"(Y/N)!"—

A happy joyful voice exclaimed their name before something small launched at them into a hug with enough force to knock out some oxygen out of them. Nevertheless, the older sibling miraculously manages to mantain the footing and catch the little girl in a hug.

—"(S/N)?! How long you've been awake?!"— you ask in surprise and concern.

—"Oh... Uh..."— she thinks while poking her cheek with her finger. —"I think the little arrow on the clock was pointing at the number 5."— she innocently replies.

—"You've been awake since 5 of the morning?!"—you almost exclaim as you kneel down and take her hands. —"Are you okay? Were you scared? Did you know I was at the hospital? Did Michael do anything to you?"—

As an answer to their waterfall of question, the little girl childishly giggles.

—"It was all okay! But... I did get a tiny bit scared when I woke up and you weren't in the house, I though my nightmate of you dissappearing became true!... But then I saw Michael, and he explained that you went to see a doctor!"—

—"Michael... Explained?"— you arch your brow.

As soon as that question left their mouth, the tall man appeared at the entrance of the living room with a small toy ambulance in his hand.

—"Oh..."— you blink as you stare at the small item. —"I... I guess that makes sense how he did it."— you momentarily relax, but suddenly tense up again as you redirect your gaze to your sister. —"But seriously are you okay? Were you out your room this whole time?"—

The little girl shrinks in her place a bit flustered and embarrassed.

—"Well... I know you said last time not to exit my room when I had to stay with Michael, I swear I tried to follow your request! But..."— she bites her lip as she shrinks more. —"Please don't be mad, but I was just too scared to stay up there. You never left at night before! And... And when mom and dad left it was night too and-... And-..."— she starts hiccuping a bit by the end.

The little girl is interrupted when her sibling suddenly hugs her, holding her in a tight, secure and loving embrace.

—"Oh songbird, no... I'm so sorry if I came harsh on you, there is no way I can be mad at you for feeling scared for me."— you say as you place your head over hers. —"The first time I left, I was scared too... I was scared that when I come back you wouldn't be here..."—

A small gasp escaped the little girl and she quickly leans back to face her sibling.

—"You have nightmares of me disappearing too?!"— she asks quite surprised.

—"Yeah, I do."— you reply softly. —"Ever since I managed to convince the old ugly people to let me keep you, I sometimes have nightmares where they take you away."—

(S/N) frowns a bit, her childish mind not expecting that her usually super brave and calm sibling had such fears and concerns.

—"So please, don't feel bad, okay? Let's just be happy and celebrate that I made it home safely and you didn't disappear, yes?"—

—"Yeah... Yeah you're right!"— she exclaims, her happy-go-lucky tone returning. —"And Michael actually wasn't that bad! Though I wasn't in my room we still did our own things! Like, I presented him my toy dinosaurs while he stayed in thaaaaat corner over there and listened."—

—"Uh-huh..."— you mutter quietly as you glance at the tall man, who only tilted his head.

Man, if what the little girl is saying is true, then (Y/N) definetely owes Myers a medal for handling their sister's speech. Don't get them wrong, they love (S/N) to death and absolutely adore when she shares her interests and stories she invented about her toys or for their 'owl siblings' series! But sometimes she may get a bit too engaged with it.

Wait... Could that mean that Michael is being genuine with-.

—"And so... (Y/N)."—

(S/N) voice calling them snapped the older sibling back to reality.

—"About the 'celebrate' thingy..."— she says, suddenly shy.

—"You want me to make a cake, aren't you?"— you throw her an unimpressed look.

—"Yes!"— she giggles as she plays with her fingers. —"The cherry one, pretty please?"—

(Y/N) only rolls their eyes with a smile as they stand up and start taking off their jacket and shoes.

—"I guess I could make us a cake, remember the ingredients we need?"—

The little girl practically ignites in joy.

—"Yes! Yes I remember! Let me see if we have the all!"— she hurriedly says the last part before running into the kitchen.

The older sibling only chuckled as they finish undressing. They start going towards the kitchen but stopped right at the entrance, eyes already placed on the tall man.

—"Have you ever tried a cherry chip cake?"— you suddenly ask after a short pause.

The man slowly tilts his head to the other side.

—"I'll take it as a no. I'll make enough for you to have some too."— you pause. —"Don't get me wrong, it doesn't mean I trust you or enjoy having you around, but... I definetely owe it to you, for keeping an eye on (S/N) and such, and... And for what you did tonight."— you throw him a tiny smile before walking into the kitchen.

Michael didn't follow, not yet. His mind kept repeating that last image of (Y/N) over and over, from their suprisingly calm voice to the soft look in their eyes. But what would make his breath shake was the smile. It wasn't fake, it wasn't nervous, it wasn't out of politeness... It was a genuine, small yet sencere, dedicated to him and him only smile.

He lowers his gaze and places his hand on his chest, gripping the fabric of his coverals tightly.

It's hard to describe what exactly this set of emotions is, it all feels new. All he knows is that he suddenly feels warmth, a very soft and pleasant type of warmth...

It feels very familiar... Yet so distant and forgoten... As if he haven't experience these emotions for a long, long time...

...

...Happy.

He feels happy.

[delicateflowerss]

Savior Complex

JJ Maybank can't stop thinking about you after he finds you during one of your late-night swims. He'll do anything to figure out who you are, even if you don't want him to.

Warnings: 18+, NON-CON, loss of virginity, dark!JJ, obsession, shoplifting, slight violence, pogue!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

this is loosely based off the daphne and apollo myth, enjoy <3

The first time JJ sees you he isn’t sure if you’re real or a figment of his imagination.

He’s not sure of the time. He just knows it’s late, the ocean matching the color of the night sky. The breeze hits him hard as he gulps down cheap beer.

He thought it would be a good night to take the boat out on the water.

Growing up, his dad would tell him how night was better for catching big fish.

He tells himself that he thought he would take his father’s advice out of pure boredom. Not because he was tired of feeling the crushing weight of silence in his house.

He isn’t as successful as he wanted to be, catching nothing of significance.

Until he sees you.

You’re far away from him, closer to shore than he is.

But once he spots you, he can’t take his eyes off you.

Even if he can’t make out your face, he can tell you’re the most beautiful creature he has ever laid his eyes on. You are graceful in your movements, like you learned how to swim before you could talk.

He could swear that your skin glowed in the moonlight.

You probably think no one is out there with you, acting like you aren’t under anyone’s prying eyes.

He almost feels bad while watching you, like he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to.

You finally swim away and all he can do is let you, leaving him alone.

You haven’t left his mind since that night. He doesn’t think he recognizes you so he’s not sure you’re even from the island.

But he doesn’t think you’re a Touron either.

So, who are you?

He tries again, going back out on the water only to possibly catch a glimpse of you.

He waits hours and the most interesting thing he sees is a whale passing by. It calls out, a loud and longing noise.

It’s alone in the ocean, searching for another just like itself.

It doesn’t take long for JJ to run out of beer, swearing under his breath when he finds the empty cooler.

Another hour passes before he spots you again.

His lips part slightly as he watches you bathe in the moonlight. Any coherent thoughts have left him.

Finally, he blinks, swallowing before he yells out to you.

“Hey!”

Startled, you stop your careless fun, staring back at the strange boy on the boat as you stay afloat.

Before he can say anything else, you’re already swimming away.

“Wait-,” he starts, reaching his hand out.

But you’re too far to even hear him. JJ doesn’t think he’s seen someone move that fast before.

He curls his fingers into his palm as he presses his lips together.

He thought he could at least find out your name. Instead, you were a fawn in the forest and he was the hunter, snapping a twig and ruining his moment to strike while letting you run away.

Another week has passed, and JJ still hasn’t been able to get you off his mind.

The only good thing that came out of his attempt to talk to you is that he was able to see your face before you swam away.

It’s burned into his memory, the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up and the last thing before he goes to sleep.

It’s not lost on him that he knows nothing about you. But he feels like he does. He feels like he’s supposed to know you.

He worries that he hit his head and should be taken to the hospital. He’s never felt this way about anyone before and he isn’t exactly sure why he feels this way about you.

It doesn’t help that he hasn’t seen you since. Not that he’s actively looking, but everyday he goes around wondering if he’ll see you today.

He knows your face and you must be somewhere on the island. It’s just up to fate or coincidence when you finally run into him.

“JJ, we’ve seen that movie ten times. We need to watch something different tonight.”

“I would love to hear you come up with something better. But I really don’t think you can,” JJ says, giving his friend a taunting look.

Pope rolls his eyes before retorting, “I can think of a thousand different movies better than C.H.U.D.”

It seems like JJ doesn’t hear him, the chiming of the bell above the shop door interrupts Pope’s sentence.

He trails behind JJ as they walk into the corner store.

“Hey, Bob. How ya doin’?” JJ greets the man at the register.

“I have my eye on you, JJ,” Bob simply replies.

The cheeky smile is wiped off JJ’s face before he heads right for the beer.

“6 or 12?”

“12. We’re completely out,” Pope responds.

JJ looks through the smudged glass one more time before grabbing the 12-pack and walking back to the register.

Except, he slows, blocking out whatever Pope is telling him.

“You’re 8 dollars short.”

“What? No-,” you start to say as you dig into the beat-up purse hanging off your shoulder.

“Sorry, Miss. You’re going to have to put something back.”

You give up on searching for more money, sighing as you point to the sugar. Bob puts it to the side and bags up the rest of your groceries.

Once you’re handed the paper bag, you’re walking out the door.

JJ almost freezes for a second, having seen the entire scene. He knows he can’t miss another chance.

He leaves the beer with Pope as he runs out the store.

“Hey! Wait,” he calls out to you.

This time, you turn around, not getting ready to run off.

You look back at him with a question in your eyes and it takes him a moment to think of what he’s going to say to you.

His eyes can’t help but rake over your figure. Your clothes don’t match your appearance, too worn out for such an alluring person.

“I couldn’t help but see that you didn’t get your sugar,” he explains, motioning back at the store. “Bob can be such a dick.”

He swallows when you don’t crack a smile, still staring at him with uncertainty.

“If you give me a second, I can see what I can do.”

All you do is stare.

“Okay? Just wait,” he quickly says before going back into the store.

He keeps his head down, going unnoticed while Bob is ringing up Pope. He sneaks through the aisles, grabbing a small pink carton off a shelf.

A triumphant smirk is painted on his lips when he slips out of the store, finding you waiting.

He doesn’t miss the surprise in your eyes as you take the sugar from him.

“You didn’t have to…”

“Don’t worry about it. Not a penny out of my pocket.”

You raise your eyebrows slightly, lips parting as you understand what he means.

“Still. You could get into a lot of trouble,” you wearily say.

“No trouble I haven’t already been in,” JJ says almost proudly. “Bob’s all talk anyway.”

“Well, thanks.” A small smile finally forms on your face.

JJ takes that as a win.

As you shift your feet, JJ scratches the back of his head before saying what’s really on his mind.

“I hope I didn’t scare you the other night.”

You slightly shake your head. But you bite your lip, like you’re stopping yourself from saying anything else.

“If I did, hopefully this made up for it.” JJ chuckles and as he starts to say something else, you cut him off.

“I have to get going. But thank you again,” you hurriedly say before turning around.

JJ watches you leave with an open mouth.

“What was that about?” Pope asks, stepping beside JJ, a pack of beer in his hand.

He glances at Pope but simply shakes his head.

He just wanted to know your name.

JJ’s unrest doesn’t last long. It’s only a few days later when he sees you again as he’s walking along the shore.

He notices you first while your eyes are glued to the sand, stopping every once in a while to pick something up.

By the time he reaches you, you have no choice but to look up, finding familiar blue eyes.

“Weird running into you again,” he remarks. “You aren’t following me, are you?”

He has to stop himself from grinning at the look on your face. You stare at him with wide eyes before shaking your head.

“No-.”

He laughs, unable to contain it anymore, flashing pearly white teeth at you.

“I’m just playing with you.”

You smile a little, eyes falling on the waves crashing onto the shore.

“What are you doin’ out here anyway?” JJ asks, trying to peek into your closed hand.

You hesitate before opening your curled fingers, showing him the seashells you’ve been collecting.

You worry he’s going to make fun of you but relief washes over you when he smiles.

“Wow. You just found all these?”

“Yeah. This one is my favorite.” You hold the seashell up and as the sun shines through the pearl color, JJ notices the sparkling tiny flecks.

He quickly moves his eyes to yours as you stare at its’ beauty, and he decides the seashell doesn’t have anything on the way your eyes shine.

“It’s pretty, but it doesn’t really have much on you.”

You cast your eyes downward at his comment and he internally curses at himself, the words having come out without him thinking.

He decides to change the subject, starting to squint because of the bright sunshine.

“How come I’ve never seen you before? You just move here or something?”

“No,” you answer. “I’ve pretty much been here for my entire life. I was just homeschooled so that’s probably why we’ve never met.”

“Homeschool,” he says the word like it’s foreign to him. “I can’t imagine what that would be like.”

“Lonely,” you immediately say.

Before JJ can say anything else, he hears the voices of his friends behind him. You notice them too, eyes scanning over the group that is loudly talking and laughing.

“If you’re not busy, you can come hang with us,” he offers, pointing to the group heading toward the two of you.

By the look on your face, he can tell you’re going to say no. He internally flinches to prepare for it.

“Hey, it’s the girl from the store,” Pope says, stumbling through the sand.

You smile sheepishly, feeling all eyes on you.

“Yeah, this is…” JJ hopes that you introduce yourself for him, still not knowing your name.

When you say it, he can’t help but repeat it over and over again in his head like he’s casting a spell.

“He’s not bothering you, is he?” John B asks lightheartedly.

“I was just inviting her to hang out with us,” JJ explains.

John B goes to say something else to JJ while Sarah gasps at the seashells you’re still holding.

“Those are beautiful! Did you just find these?” She runs her fingers over them. “I’m Sarah by the way,” she adds, throwing you a polite smile.

“And I’m Kie,” another girl says, giving a slight wave.

“Nice to meet you,” you say to both of them.

“So, what happened at the store? Is that where you met JJ?” Sarah asks with raised eyebrows.

“Uh, it’s a long story,” you chuckle a little.

“We’re all going back to John B’s. Why don’t you come and tell us about it?” When you hesitate, Kie continues, “come on. You have something better to do?”

You stare at the two girls’ hopeful eyes, waiting for your answer.

These are the kind of friends you always wished you had.

Finally, you nod, their grins overtaking their faces.

You feel his eyes on you more than once. There is a weight to it, lingering on you, feeling heavy on your skin.

You don’t really talk to JJ again that day, mostly talking to Sarah and Kie while you hang out on John B’s front porch.

JJ notices how you’re more comfortable around the girls. It never occurred to him that would probably be the case, being homeschooled and all.

You probably don’t have brothers, he guesses.

At least you’re there, around him. He can still learn things about you even in small ways.

That’s enough for him.

You don’t hesitate to accept when Sarah and Kie invite you to hang out with them again. You’ve never been the best at making friends and being isolated your whole life hasn’t helped.

So, you’re happy that they seem to want you to be their friend.

Almost everyone has gone inside by the time it gets dark.

Everyone except for you and JJ.

You both are drying off on folding chairs after an afternoon spent in the hot tub.

You were unsure when Sarah and Kie left. But you could tell Sarah wanted to be alone with John B, and Kie with Pope.

So, you’re left in the humid air with JJ. The only sounds are the hum of insects and the faint noise of a boat horn occasionally.

You both sip on beers, your mouth twisting up at the taste.

JJ is the first to break the silence.

“You know, for having been homeschooled, I’m surprised your parents let you go out in the middle of the night to swim in the ocean.”

His eyes peek over at you, and he takes note of how you keep your stare on your hands in your lap.

You swallow, the words not coming easily to you.

“Um, my dad left a while ago. And my mom was never really around so…”

The air suddenly feels thicker, a somberness settling between the two of you.

JJ’s lips part as you continue, “I live alone. I have for the last year. That’s why I don’t always have enough to buy things like sugar.”

Your voice is fragile, like it could crack at any given moment.

You finally meet his gaze, and you almost wish you hadn’t.

He has that look of pity that you know all too well, but there’s something else there.

“I guess we have more in common than I thought,” is all he says.

You look at him, confused, until realization hits you. Not many people steal for fun, they do it because they have to.

“Why don’t I take you fishing tomorrow?” His usual cockiness is back, any seriousness from earlier is long gone. “People like us have to learn how to live off the land.” A smirk grows on his lips, an electricity present in his blue eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

You smile, not wasting a second in saying yes.

People like us dance around in your head.

You and JJ start bright and early, going out on the water in the same boat where you first saw him.

You worried fishing would be boring, but you don’t miss a thing JJ does or says as he gets everything ready.

You two end up getting a full net of fish and JJ knows all the work was worth it just to see the smile on your face.

As the day gets later, you can’t help but jump into the water for a quick swim. You feel better in the water, like your head is clearer.

All JJ can do is watch and he still doesn’t understand why it seems like you were born to be in the water, like it’s your home. A serenity passes over you that he’s never seen on anyone else.

Later in the afternoon, you show JJ where you live so he can dock near it.

It’s not a house you’re proud of, but it’s all you have.

Oddly, you don’t feel ashamed when JJ steps foot into it. You don’t get the feeling like you have to pretend around him.

JJ looks around as you both bring the fish in. It’s quaint but cleaner than his house could ever be.

“Should we start frying up this fish?” he asks you, already knowing your answer.

The hot, sticky air has started to cool a little. You and JJ sit under a tall oak tree in your front yard, moss draped over branches helping to shade you from the setting sun.

Dirty plates sit by your legs as JJ reclines against the tree, relaxed with his eyes closed. The sun-bleached strands of his hair stick up, messy and uncared for. You notice he runs his hand through his hair a lot, seemingly absentmindedly on his end.

His eyelids finally open, startling you as he catches you staring at him.

Your eyes fall to your knees, finding an ant crawling on your skin. You brush it off, hoping it finds a soft spot in the green grass beneath you.

When JJ looks at you, he still sees a question mark. There’s still so much he doesn’t know or understand about you. Anytime he feels like he’s getting somewhere with you, you pull away.

He wishes he could open your skull and find out exactly what you’re thinking.

But he can’t do that.

He hopes a simple comment will suffice for now.

“I had fun today.”

You finally look back at him, a smile easily forming on your face.

“Me too.”

You’re so close to him that he can smell the sea salt on your skin. It clouds his mind along with the way you keep your eyes set on him.

He barely thinks as he leans in closer, his nose bumping into yours.

You freeze, letting his lips ghost over yours, warm breath fanning over you.

“JJ,” you whisper, making him pause.

You pull away when he falters, watching the dazed look in his eyes disappear before looking down.

Before anger or disappointment can wash over his face, you grab his hand.

“Not right now, JJ. But…maybe someday.”

He meets your gaze and what you see is worse than what you tried to prevent.

Hope.

But that hope is quickly dashed away when you stop coming around to The Chateau.

He wishes you had just told him right when he tried to kiss you that you didn’t feel the same way. But he’s not sure that would have stopped the continuous thoughts about you.

Or the pain in his chest.

He dodges his friends’ questions about you. They seem to handle the rejection better than he can, disappointed and perplexed at best.

The silence in his house seems louder too, an unbearable noise he can’t tolerate anymore.

So, he looks for noise.

Your screen door slams as you walk out onto the porch. You’re wearing a dress, clean and old-looking.

Even when he’s angry with you, he can’t stop from dragging his eyes over you.

You must have seen him coming up the path to your house, finding him just outside.

There’s a roughness to you that he hadn’t seen before, and he realizes you couldn’t have made it this far by being gentle.

“Why haven’t you been around to John B’s?” His forehead is creased, and he doesn’t try to soften his words.

“JJ-.”

“Because when you said, “not right now,” I thought you meant we would at least be friends,” he spits out.

“Really? I had a feeling you wouldn’t be happy with that either.” You cross your arms, not moving an inch.

Your reply just makes him shake his head.

“Do you want the truth, JJ?”

“Yeah. That would’ve been nice from the beginning.” His eyes find yours while you gnaw on your bottom lip.

“I like you, JJ. But I can’t be with you.” Unlike him, you soften your words. But it doesn’t stop the next thing coming out of your mouth to him like a slap in the face.

“Ever.”

“What?” he asks in disbelief.

“I can’t do the boyfriend thing,” you immediately explain. “I need my space. And my independence. It’s also a promise I made. You might not understand but-.”

“I can give you space.” He steps closer to you.

“No. That’s not enough.” You back away as he gets closer.

“I don’t get it. You want to be alone for the rest of your life?” Bewilderment laces his tone.

“It’s not like that, JJ. I would have liked to be your friend. But nothing more.”

He stands there and listens, finally understanding what you’re saying. His pain is clear, eyes seeming to dim when he realizes you mean it.

“Maybe you’re just scared,” he tries again, reaching his hand out to you. But you squirm away, shaking your head.

You step past him, finally able to get around him, moving to the grass of your front yard.

“I’m sorry but it’s not going to happen. Just leave me alone, JJ.”

You stare at the back of his head, waiting for him to admit defeat.

Then he turns around and the look on his face is anything but. He has the same dazed look in his eyes as the day he tried to kiss you.

“I-I can’t,” he simply says, walking closer to you. “No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Fear jumps in your chest, moving to your veins.

“I need you.”

His fingers only wrap around your arm for a few seconds. With all your strength, you wiggle out of his grasp, adrenaline pushing you to run far away from him.

Your house is removed from the civilization of The Cut, just water and backroads surrounding it. When you hear JJ’s footfall behind you, all you can do is hope that you know the land better than he does.

After a while, dirt starts to turn to mud as your legs start to get tired. Trees surround you and swampy water lies ahead of you. You realize no one is going to be driving back here because of it so your hope of someone finding you is washed away.

There’s also nowhere for you to go besides the way you came. But as you try to catch your breath, you’re not sure if you can even run any longer.

Hopefully JJ got tired too, or even lost.

Except, it’s not long before you hear a particularly loud footstep. He says your name wearily as you whip your head around. He keeps his steps slight, moving toward you little by little, trying not to let you get away again. He looks like he’s trying to catch his own breath.

But as you look around, you don’t have much of a choice of where to go.

One failed attempt to run past him lands you in his arms.

The noise you let out is of pure frustration and fear. When he pushes you to the ground, you can’t stop the sobbing, tears streaming down your face.

You taste salty tears on your tongue, and it reminds you of the ocean. Will this just be a faded painful memory one day, or will the one thing you love be forever tarnished by this act of violence?

JJ’s weight lies on top of you as he kisses you, something he’s been wanting to do for a long time now. He tastes the tears on your lips, careless of the sob you let out when he comes up for air.

You push at his chest as he trails his lips along your neck. He claws at your dress, ripping it from your body, wanting to see more of you.

“Please, stop. JJ,” your attempts to stop him are dismissed.

You look up at the tall trees above you, almost touching the blue sky, shading you from the hot sun. You keep your eyes on the trees as you hear him undo his shorts.

A ragged cry leaves your lips as you feel him push inside you. A pleasured groan leaves his as he feels your cunt wrapped around him.

“It hurts,” you cry out, but he just shushes you.

“It’ll stop soon,” he says before thrusting into you again.

He keeps his eyes on you as his face contorts in the ecstasy he is getting from you.

His fingers ghost over your skin and they feel dirty, sticky for some reason. He rubs your breast before leaning down to take your nipple into his mouth, leaving a wet spot where his tongue was.

The pain fades like he says but something akin to seasickness twists in the pit of your stomach.

His thrusts get sloppier as you grab his arm. Love was never something that felt important to you. You didn’t want to show your vulnerabilities to someone, lying naked for them to see all of you.

But what do you do when someone forcefully picks you apart, watching you get bloody and raw from their doing.

He stills, a warmth filling you deep inside. JJ finds the crook of your neck, breathing heavily.

As he traces the damp skin of your cheek, he thinks about how he’s saving you. You thought life was better alone, but he’s here to show you differently. He’ll help you through the growing pains of changing, of learning to be with someone else.

As you lie under him, your eyes fall onto the white cloth of your dress.

It’s stained and ripped, thrown to the side, careless that it meant something to you.

[xhoneygirlxx]

my salvation

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: when it all becomes too much, you go to one person.

warnings: established relationship, mentions of mental health issues, depression/anxiety, panic attack. pronouns not used, Eddie calls reader pet names (baby, sweetheart, honey, etc.). modern au!, current technology and movies mentioned. bad writing and not proofread, if there are any grammar mistakes pretend like it's not there. pictures used do not describe reader in anyway, only used for aesthetic purposes. 18+ Minors please go away :)

a/n: as someone who deals with panic attacks, sometimes all i want is for someone to just hold me. there's moments where i don't want any questions asked because i can become embarrassed very easily which makes it worse. if any of you guys are dealing with mental health issues, just know that you are loved, and my page is always a safe place <3

The room is shrouded in darkness, the only light is the yellow shine of the streetlamp outside your room. When you got home from work, you told Eddie that you needed to lay down, physically drained from the week you had just had. Your boyfriend being the angel he is, helped you into the bed and placed a wet kiss on your head, telling you if you needed anything just to call for him and he'd be there.

Work had been a nightmare recently, your whole department swamped with ten times the work you're used to due to an overflow of paperwork. Your boss, Doug, had been an asshole to you in particular, even though you weren't even the head of your team. It didn't matter because he made it a point to single you out, ride your ass all week, and when all was said and done he never thanked you for all the late shifts you pulled to get it all back together.

The whole way home all you could think about was your bed, curling up under the blankets, and just turning the whole world off. It was Friday night and rather than spend time with your boyfriend that you hadn't seen all week because of conflicting working schedules, you were laying in bed too exhausted to do anything else.

However you couldn't sleep, your eyes screaming to rest, yet your mind couldn't shut off. There was something happening, swarm of emotions starting in your mind, and you were trying everything to keep out of the eye of the storm.

As you stare up at the dark ceiling you could feel the burn behind your eyes, crawling it's way out to be released. Your body was sinking further and further into the bed like a cement block. The tingle of your fingers had alerted you, setting off the bells and whistles in your head.

The room that you were once in is now gone, replaced by grey skies and dark water. The waves are choppy, quick, and strong, pushing you around like a ragdoll being chewed on by a dog. Kicking your legs and pushing your arms, you try to stay afloat.

The pounding of your heart is loud, beating deafeningly in your ears like a kick drum. It's constant, it's overwhelming, and you can't control it. Your mouth won't open, refusing to cooperate like you swallowed a bunch of super glue, trapping it shut.

While you're trying to save yourself from the dark abyss you were heading into, you couldn't feel your legs anymore, like you were paralyzed by impending doom.

Here in the dark bedroom that you and your boyfriend share, you lay motionless, tears rolling down the side of your cheeks onto the pillow under your head. Your chest is moving rapidly up and down, trying to find the air that it desperately needs.

You're trying everything that you learned in your years of therapy, repeating all the street names of your childhood neighborhood, counting Mississippi's, naming every thing you see, touch, hear. Every tool, every lesson that you were taught, and nothing is working. The life preservers and rafts aren't helping you survive these tsunami like waves.

You can't do this on your own, fight this battle without any teammates. You know the minute you try to stand your legs will give out on you, so there's only one thing you can do. Reaching your hand to the nightstand next to the bed, you pat your hand around trying your last weapon.

When you feel your phone in the palm of your hand, you move it quickly to your face. The words on the bright screen are hard to see with the way your neck is craned and the tears that are blurring your vision.

With whatever strength you have, you text Eddie, praying to the gods above that he can hear his phone over his video game. Without trying to alert him, you simply tell him that you need him to come to you.

You can hear him, laughing and joking with his friends on his headset. The voice of the only person who can save you from drowning is right behind that door, yet he feels so far away.

Shutting your phone off and throwing it somewhere on the bed, you continue to sit there in the darkness, tied down by the invisible chains your mind has wrapped around you.

No matter how hard you try, you can't seem to get the oxygen to your lungs. The pounding of your heart is growing louder, the waves are getting stronger and stronger, pulling you completely under.

What you don't realize is that your salvation is right there, reaching his hand out and pulling you up from the angry sea.

Through the crashing sounds of the water you hear him, his voice brings you back to safety. When you open your eyes he's there, hovering over you, calling out to you like an angel at the pearly white gates.

"Baby," the mattress dips down beside you where he's sat, "Baby, hey, what's wrong?"

Blinking away the salty water from your eyes, you can see Eddie. His eyebrows scrunched up in worry, mouth pulled down with a frown. Because of the bright lamp he must've turned on, you can see his eyes, big chocolate pools swarming with concern, flickering back and forth trying to study your face.

The minute you register what's happening it all comes crashing down, the fear, the sadness, the worry. Your mouth that was once locked shut, has finally freed itself from it restraints. No words come out, only the loud sobbing that was trapped in your throat.

You can hear the shuffling from your boyfriend, the pressure of his full body weight next to you. He doesn't hesitate to hold you, engulfing you into a bear hug. You wish that you could feel your limbs, that the fuzziness that pulses through them would go away, so you could feel his touch.

Your whole body is shaking, releasing all the emotion that was trapped inside. The sound of your pounding heart is now replaced with your wailing that vibrates off of Eddie's chest. The cotton of his shirt is soaked with tears and snot, and you know that when you pull away you won't look pretty but you can't care, not when your lungs are burning with the sea water you swallowed while drowning.

"It's okay sweetheart, I got you." Eddie's voice rattles through his chest, right where your head lays. He repeats this mantra over and over again to you, like a prayer.

"I'm s-so sorry, Eddie. I'm so s-sorry." You don't know why you're apologizing and he doesn't question it, only rubbing his hand back and forth on the middle of your back.

"I'm so sorry, Eddie. P-please don't leave, leave me." The sentence is hiccupped through your crying. There's nothing for you to be sorry for, no reason for him to get up and leave you, but you can't help but repeat it over and over again.

Maybe you're apologizing because you hadn't seen him all week. Maybe you're sorry for interrupting his game session with the boys. Maybe you're apologizing to Doug for not being on top of your game at work. Maybe you're apologizing to the barista that made your drink wrong and having her remake it. Maybe you're sorry to yourself for putting up with every single thing and not sticking up for yourself. Maybe you're sorry for putting your body through torture everyday, not giving it the proper care and fuel that it needs to survive.

Every single little thing that's been bothering you is coming out now, the evidence on your boyfriends beloved Metallica shirt. You can feel your body deflate, like a balloon that's seeping out helium.

"Honey, I need you to take one deep breath for me. All I want is one big one, okay? Can you do that for me, love?" Eddie's tone is gentle even though he's demanding something you're not sure you can do.

With whatever strength you have in your body, you nod. With a whispered okay, he instructs you to follow him. His chest expands and then shrinks back down, your head moving with it. On autopilot you follow him, doing exactly what he did.

"There you go, baby. You're doin' such a good job for me."

The thing you once craved is now back within your body, your chest lighter than before. The muscles in your throat aren't tight anymore, allowing airflow back through. In that moment, Eddie's words and comfort is what brings you back down to your body. You can feel the warmth of his touch, his curls tickling your cheek.

Your teeth pulse with a heartbeat and your lips feel like your leg after you sat on it for too long. Everything is coming back to you now and you aren't scared anymore.

The cries that once ricocheted off the walls are now gone, the only thing that's heard is your breathing and small hiccups in between. There isn't a word spoken, not a question asked, just quietness. You push your face a little further into Eddie's chest, seeking refuge in the thing that just pulled you out from your demise.

After what feels like forever, Eddie finally breaks the comfortable silence. "You feelin' okay?" You don't respond verbally, rather nodding your head in response.

He hums, kissing the top of your head so lightly you almost miss it. He sits with you for a little bit longer before urging you up from your spot of comfort. Guiding you to the bathroom, he takes a cold wash cloth to your face, wiping away the stickiness of your tears and the mess of your snot with a light hand.

When you're all clean and your nose is blown, you follow him into the living room, where he sits you down. Turning off his game, he switched the tv to Disney plus to put on your comfort movie. Without another word, he moves into the kitchen where he opens and closes cabinets and the fridge.

Returning to the living room, he takes a seat right next to you, placing a plate with a sandwich on your legs. A cold bottle of water sits in his hand, you watch ringed fingers twist the cap off. Gently, Eddie puts his hands under your chin and lift the bottle to your lips, where you happily accept the cold water.

You eat your pb&j while watching Toy Story, taking a ragged breath every once and a while. When the sandwich is eaten, Eddie takes your plate and places it on the coffee table, and then hands you your water to take another sip.

Wrapping his arm around you, he pulls you into the side of his body, gripping onto you like his life depended on it. You don't mind it either, sinking into him with ease.

"My lovebug, so strong and brave. I'm proud of you." His hand pets the top of your head, pushing any loose hair out of your face.

Everything is right again, falling into place where it should be. Not everything is going to be like this, you remind yourself, nothing is ever bad when you have the love of your life sitting next to you. His scent calming you, the beat of his heart music to your ears, the heat of his skin comforting you.

__

thank you all for reading! love you all :)

[theanxiousbookdevourer]

I'm finally starting to get the love for Jean—but I still think he's a jerk.

After playing Disco Elysium for the first time, I was pretty baffled as to why people seemed to like Jean so much. In my experience, he had only ever made fun of us when we radioed in. He was constantly critical of us and basically seemed to hate our guts.

Then I played again. And again. And again. And I think I get it now.

(Disco Elysium spoilers. Also, "ridiculously long post" warning.)

Jean is supposed to be our partner. Lt. Kim Kitsuragi can put up with us because he's a saint, but imagine how hard it is to try to keep someone afloat when you're always on the brink of drowning yourself.

If you have high Esprit de Corps while on the radio, you can learn Jean actively tries to protect us, despite making fun of us beforehand.

He's upset about what we said, though. He's upset about what we did. He's upset about the fact that he's spent so much of his life worrying about us, and then we went and told him we didn't need him.

So he decides to have fun for once. He shows up in a blond wig and sunglasses to look like Guillaume Bevy, thinking we'll catch on.

But we don't.

He also specifically references the fact that we told him to leave (except in a much less pleasant way than that).

Even when we almost get it, we don't, really.

We say we can't imagine working with him anymore, hypothetically speaking.

He says the same thing. But it isn't so hypothetically.

We may not recognize him, but somewhere deep down, we recognize the feeling he gives us. We may have forgotten almost everything else, but we haven't forgotten what it was like to be partners.

And despite his best attempts, he can't forget either.

If Cuno's there to defend us at the end, Jean claims he's only letting us return because of the kid. But that's not the only reason.

And if we end up alone, he still can't help but feel sad.

He leaves the door open for us...

... but things will really have to change. And based on the text from Shivers, it seems pretty unlikely.

So do I think Jean is perfect? No. He can be a jerk. He makes fun of us and doesn't understand the depths of our struggles. This post by palms-upturned explains that really well.

But Jean is also tired of drowning. In some ways, I think he feels exactly like that Coupris we crashed. If he had stayed on with us, he would have drowned too. And there would have been no bringing him back.

So I don't know. Do I love Jean? No. Not really. I still have my reservations. But I think anyone who has ever held onto someone so tightly, especially one who says they don't want to get better (and can say it twice)...

... can understand how Jean feels. If only for a moment.

Maybe if we do go back, we find a way to make amends. Maybe Jean will learn more about us and realize there is something wrong, and he shouldn't beat us up for it. Maybe he can let go of the bitterness. It is as Miss Oranje Disco Dancer herself said:

The world can change. People can change. We can change. And I really hope we will.

[kichiyosh1]

Hi ,, my heads full of final exams and scara 🤕

this is my first request of a story of any kind but..

Top of the class reader who is trying to help her boyfriend scara pass his exams! But scara would much rather steal looks at her then look at the work questions in front of him. Reader scolds him but it goes in one ear and out the other, bc he thinks it cute (but wouldn’t want to admit it) ㅠㅠ

I’m not sure if you’ve done something similar but, I hope this was a sufficient request for u too work with ٩˙ヘ˙و

– 🌀 anon !!

Focus on the paper, not me!

modern au!scaramouche x f!reader

Sorry this was late! Woooh exams, good thing i won't be dealing with those for a while. That info is more than sufficient, in fact i was already able to picture a whole plot in my head thanks to it 🌀 anon!

»»————>

"Scara, we've been at this for hours and we've only studied one chapter."

You'd say the situation was quite... hopeless. You weren't using that term on your boyfriend though. Of course not, you know how well he's able to do good with his grades, but his ways of staying academically afloat are indeed questionable.

Having to drink black coffee the moment he wakes up and cramming lessons and assignments by 3am in the morning was impressive, but seriously unhealthy. You wouldn't be surprised either if he did the same thing for his exams, but surprised you were when he came up to you one day to ask for you to help him study.

and that leads to now.

"How 'bout you try answering these work questions and we'll focus on reviewing the ones you get wrong. We'll start by answering the simpler questions before moving onto—" Your hands were busy rummaging through papers while your gaze shifted left and right across the work sheets.

It was at times like this where Scara's able to take a good look at you. The concentrated look on your face made you look so cute and eager. Your cheeks puffed out just a tiny bit like a little chipmunk busying itself with collecting acorns, or in your case, helping him study.

You handed him a pen and laid out the papers, reminding him that it was alright if he didn't get all of them right, just a couple to prove that he at least learned something. "How nice of you, though if I end up getting a score least of what you're expecting, then that's on you." he was already through to five questions, posture facing the paper but his eyes flicker from time to time to you.

"You should be grateful I'm even willing to help you. Do you know how many others would want to be in your position right now?" you crossed your arms with a huff.

"Good thing I got to you first."

"You didn't, I just declined tutoring all of them because I didn't have the energy for it."

"Oh, then how lucky am I, to have such a sweet, loving and caring girlfriend look after me, who also happens to be incredibly smart too~."

You would have nudged him hard, but you didn't want the ink of his pen to run the wrong way. So you could only look at him in disbelief, debating if you should feel happy about his compliment, or offended that he could have implied that he pursued you for your smarts. Knowing Scaramouche, you decided not to take it to heart, after all he was prone to teasing you one way or another.

"Your talk better be as strong as your bite, because unless you want to count my face as part of your exam, I suggest you keep your eyes on your paper, scara." You say with folded hands and a close eyed smile, though the irk mark on your forehead was showing.

He wasn't subtle at all, stealing glances at a time like this when he should be focused on answering. A single bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face, only a few more questions left.

'I'll have you know if this exam remotely has anything involving you in it, I'd ace it no problem.' he wouldn't tell you that though. It was already embarrassing how he couldn't think straight since his thoughts would always keep circling back to you.

"Even your ugly face would be more appealing to look at right now instead of this annoying exam." He says handing you his finished papers, stretching out his back before focusing his attention on to you.

"At least I'm not dumb enough that I would be in need of a tutor, right? Makes you think that pretty face of yours is all you have going" this time you could only give him a deadpanned look in return before scanning over his papers. His face is bright red because of the uno reverse you just pulled.

The silence after that was deafening, making your best efforts to ignore him. A part of him slightly now regretted what he said so standing up from his position, draping his arms over your shoulder from behind, he could only sigh.

"You're not mad because of what I said right? You know I didn't mean it. Your face is anything but that if not it's— pleasing. It's nice to look at. It makes me feel at peace whenever I see you smiling, or whatever kind of expression you're wearing it always makes me feel like everything's gonna be alright. Like right now, when you—" he got cut off when you titled you head to the side. Your lips meeting his, giving him a peck on the lips before having your body fully face him.

"It's nice hearing you say those things, but you don't need to explain yourself. I think you've given enough evidence to show the court how much you like looking at me. I mean I do too, but at least I'm discreet about it!" You chuckled while placing the papers down, leaving scara once again all red in the face, but it disappeared just as quickly when he saw the serious look on your face.

"Oh, and you didn't get a single answer right by the way. So I'm hoping you can focus on the paper and not me this time."

"..."

"Why are you just staring at me?"

"I'm soaking in the image of your face into my memory so that I don't keep looking at you later on."

"I take it back, you are hopeless."

____

If anything's inconsistent please ignore it lol I didn't proof read yet cuz my eyes keep going ⬆️⬇️↗️↘️↙️↖️ cuz I'm sleepy so imma do that tomorrow.

[h50europe]

When one side of the fandom lies bleeding while the other one is thriving or how I learned about fandom wars the hard way

This is a message from someone whose beloved ship rests forever in the depths of the ocean.

We had high hopes. It looked like our ship was afloat and ready to explore the seven seas for three seasons. Then, the show got a new showrunner who was very homophobic, and from that point on, the show and our favorite ship went downhill. Even though I'd been in different fandoms for about fifteen years and should have known better, I let myself get caught up in an unprecedented fandom war. Those who favored the Het couple were attacking one half of our ship, not just his character but the actor. Don't think they don't know what's going on just because an actor isn't on social media. We knew some crew members and learned that everyone knew about this fandom war.

The whole thing escalated until the show's final episode, which came to a more than undignified end after ten years. Knowing what he was doing, the showrunner wrote an ending that damaged the show and destroyed our ship. It was bad. There were words like, "Now we're dancing on your grave," and much worse. I was mentally at the end of my rope at that point. Then, the sets were immediately dismantled after the last scene was shot. It's something that happens very rarely when a show reaches some cult status. Our ship didn't even do a joint farewell interview for the fans because the actors left the set quickly and never looked back.

Why am I telling you this? Because I've learned to observe things from a certain distance.

We are fans of the same show but have different priorities and ships. As a multi-shipper, it's easier, I'd say. But those who are running amok right now because their ship is staying in the harbor while another is sailing away with flying colors brings back extremely unpleasant memories to me. But the same goes for those who are just as happy about what's happening and are starting to lose their grip. Please take it from someone badly burned: This is not a competition. This is not me winning and you losing. It's deceptive to think you're on the winning side and make fun of others for it. The tide can turn. We don't know what the showrunner has in mind. We don't even know that season eight might not be the last. Take what we have right now and be thankful for it. Enjoy it while it lasts. But don't be tempted to point fingers and mock others or say, "Your ship will never be canon. Mine already is. Your ship is crap. Mine is better." Also, do not be fooled by the fact that the haters in the fandom are a small group of people who only appear to be many because of their vocality and because some are playing the old sock puppet account game again to make it look like they are many.

I can only tell you from experience that we should treat each other respectfully. Not every Buddie fan is an enemy. Unfortunately, I also see another phenomenon that is becoming more and more common. Fans barely dare to post anything for fear of the crazies in the fandom (which unfortunately exist on both sides). Fans who have nothing to do with a fandom war want to have fun. And if they have a ship, they just want to interact with like-minded people. Which - especially on X - seems to turn into a gauntlet. Because suddenly, Your Rudeness sneaks into the conversation and starts pissing on the timeline. For clowns like this, the block button still works. Getting involved in any discussion is pointless. I also had to pay dearly for this realization.

"Never wrestle with a pig because you'll both get dirty, and the pig likes it." - Positive energy is much more powerful than negative energy. If you stay positive, negativity can't touch you. Oh, and I've wrestled a lot of pigs. Other than excessive blood pressure, gastritis, and countless sleepless nights, it didn't do me any good.

Stop participating in dick-measuring contests. Stop bragging about your favorite ship and how the others are nothing but losers. Stop saying we won because we didn't. Again, this is not a contest. We are on equal footing, and we can all coexist in peace. There is plenty of room. For everyone, for every ship, for every fan. Oliver made a single statement for those unhappy with Buck's journey and his current travel companion. He dropped it for good. And I couldn't agree more with the message and how he did it.

Of course, we would like to see more of our ship. Of course, we want the actors to have a relationship storyline to sink their teeth into, and hopefully, we get to see some domestic stuff and some hot scenes. But so far, that is fanon and not canon. So far, there is usually more going on off-screen than we see. We can only hope that this will change. Those who call themselves open-minded and tolerant while going on a witch hunt should think twice about what those words mean, and they should live them and not just throw shallow phrases around.

My wish for the future of this fandom is that it becomes a safe place. Safe as in a h*te-free zone. A place where no one has to be afraid to speak their mind. And a place where you can express (constructive) criticism without getting a shitstorm. Peace out.

[sleepy-aletheas]

Kaveh will get swept up by the tide of emotions, tumbling through waves and currents of highs and lows. He will be proud of what he accomplishes, only to dip beneath the waves because of guilt (not just because of his family issues, but maybe the guilt of not "doing enough" for everyone, not changing Sumeru to a point where he thinks his ideals could meet reality). He is stuck in this eternal limbo of feelings and I think at this point he is so deep in it, he doesn't really think there is anything else. The world is the merciless water, and any solid land is a dreary dream that won't save him, because he still needs to brave the ocean.

Alhaitham on the other hand, stood firmly on the ground for most of his life. He would observe the ocean from a distance, feel the moisture, smell the salt in the air, hear the waves crashing on the shore, but he himself wouldn't partake in this song and dance personally. I think through Kaveh he realized that to actually understand the ocean and how the earth needs water to flourish, he needs to touch the waves. Especially when he once got the taste of rain that nourished the garden of thought, only for drought to wreck it for years, leaving a limited, dull hollow behind.

I think we're currently at the point in their lives where Kaveh is still struggling, salt in his eyes and water in his lungs, trying to keep his world afloat as he drowns. Alhaitham on the other hand learned to sit by the waves, and let them crash against his feet, soaking the emotions and observing them, one tide after another, never letting himself get overwhelmed by diving in headfirst.

Kaveh is blinded by it, and still doesn't realize, that Alhaitham is waiting for him just out of reach. He tossed him a lifeline so he could pull him out the ocean and take him back to solid land, where a home waits for him. But he can only stay there and wait for Kaveh himself to actually grip it and let himself be helped out.

Kaveh thinks the only way to experience feelings is by being drown by them, Alhaitham figured out you can live on solid ground, and just run a tap or bath if you want to feel, still in the safety of home.

[mymarifae]

i just want to share my thoughts about akito and Death. because even now—even off the back of an event like burn my soul—people STILL talk about him like he's an explicitly depressed, suicidal character whose every action is cause for concern.

i think the idea that akito is suicidal has been floating around for a very long time. and while it's not entirely without merit (more on this in a bit), it's still a misconception. and it really feels like kashika exacerbated the issue. which is unfortunate! it's sad to see such a beautiful song be misinterpreted like this.

now don't get me wrong! kashika is about death. but two things:

1. kashika may have been written for akito, but it's not just for him. it's also deeply personal to ryo haruka. there are certainly similarities and haruryo undoubtedly understood everything akito felt during the events that led up to the crawl green incident, but i don't think it's entirely fair to equate his very real emotions and struggles to those of a fictional character. he and akito share kashika! you can interpret it through either lens, but trying to do so through both is where things start getting messy

2. whiiiiich leads me to my second point. who decided that the only way to interpret kashika and its themes of death is literally?

i think it's pretty common for people to automatically interpret any themes of death literally—or at least very negatively. we're naturally conditioned to fear death, and then we're taught to fear it even more. it's the change. it's the unknown. it's the very idea of an "end." most people aren't very fond of these things! understandably so. but personally? i think the symbolism that can exist behind death is beautiful.

Death is the 13th card of the major arcana. above all else, it symbolizes change (positive change; it's always, always about what's ultimately best for you). Death tells you it's time to move forward; this part of your life is done. there is more waiting for you—new opportunities, new experiences, a brighter, more fulfilling future—but you must be prepared to let go.

the habits and routines you have now? the mindsets that have kept you alive? your current sense of self? whatever it is, whatever Death is asking for, you have to let it "die." it won't serve you anymore. it will only drag you down. and it might be terrifying and you might not be able to comprehend what lies ahead and you might want to kick and scream and struggle, but you can't cling forever. endings are never easy, and sometimes they hurt like hell, but with each end comes a new beginning.

and yes if you've read burn my soul this should all sound very familiar lol:

looking at death from this perspective, kashika and the entirety of find a way out should read a lot more like akito caught on the cusp of a monumental transformation. suspended between "life" (the old) and "death" (the new) so to speak.

up to this point he's been fueled by spite and desperation. two very intense, very negative emotions—but it's an intensity that worked. everyone else on vivid street had years of musical experience, and he had 0. he needed to catch up and he needed to catch up quickly because it's not like he could put the whole world on pause. he could take his time to learn the basics, sure, but every other vivid street musician would continue improving and growing while he did that. there would always be a gap between him and Them.

unless... he worked harder—WAY harder—than all of them combined.

and maybe that wouldn't do it either. maybe he would be stuck in place forever, always playing catch-up, always struggling to stay afloat, always being left behind. he knew this. and he knew the amount of destruction he'd end up inflicting upon himself if he went down this path. but in his mind, it was okay. it was worth it. because he'd rather die endlessly pursuing what he loves most than live not trying at all.

but in find a way out, when facing off against his old bullies, he starts to realize that he was wrong. he's not just stuck in place. he bridged the gap a long time ago, and he almost didn't even notice. and where he's going now, spite and desperation are the wrong emotions to sing from. he needs to let the unhealthy, extreme mindsets die, but also it's hard to let go of something when you would have given up a long long long LONG time ago without it.

but with time, and enough poking and prodding from ken and luka, he does it. he lets go. he lets the old parts of him die, and he passes on to the next stage of his life.

akito's character arc has always been about growth. improvement. learning. Becoming Better. and not just in a musical sense although Yes That Is A Huge Part Of It. his arc is also about his growth as a person. it's about him becoming more confident, and learning how to be kinder and more patient with both himself and other people. it's about him learning how to let his walls down and let his loved ones in. and to trust that they won't start kicking him to death once they're in there.

it's about him learning to exchange the Spite and Desperation for Passion and Love.

it's about him becoming happier.

which is why it's so fucking startling when people talk about him like he's suicidal and on the verge of a breakdown. like, woah, what?

as i said though, kashika isn't the only source of this misconception and i find more merit in the other sources because they're actual aspects of his character and scenes in the story and not song lyrics that shouldn't have been read so literally in the first place. like, yeah. we've seen a ton of unhealthy behavior out of akito. he's had a very extreme perspective on his place in the world from a super early age, and while the severity frequently gets exaggerated in fanon spaces, the shinonome household isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows.

he's been moody, he's been prickly and abrasive, he's lashed out. he keeps most people at arm's length and builds walls so high not even toya can get through them at first. he had to! he wouldn't have survived if he didn't! like, he was targeted and bullied by a group of adults when he first started singing on vivid street. that is actually a genuinely traumatizing thing to happen to a kid!

so no, i'm not against the idea that akito has experienced depression and suicidal ideation in the past. kinda comes naturally with the territory he ended up in. but that's the key word: past.

i get confused when the idea is dragged into the present. because again! the whole point of his character arc is he's overcome all that PAST adversity! recovery isn't linear but we're not about to see him hit rock bottom any time soon. or ever, actually. you know why? because we've already seen his rock bottom. stray bad dog. that event was his big breakdown moment. that's what opened him up to try to start healing.

we're not getting another stray bad dog. stop expecting another stray bad dog.

he's alright, i promise. he's growing up. he's gotten better. he knows he belongs in vivid bad squad. he knows he's loved. he knows his friends will be there to catch him when he falls. he's always been strong, but now he's even stronger. he's excited for his future, and i think we should be too.

[tmagpposting]

Alice’s Attitude

and why I don’t think it’s going to save her.

I haven’t seen a lot of people talking about the implication of Alice's attitude towards the incidents and horror elements so far, so I’m going to. Someone else may have already made a post about this, but I haven’t found anything yet, and I couldn’t find a way to get this out of my mind without writing it down. Naturally, I’m also going to inflict this long-winded and potentially needless analysis on all of you, since I spent 2 hours typing it out (sorry in advance). TW for blatant overuse of parentheticals and politics towards the end. This draws on content from TMAGP episodes 1-3 and TMA overall, particularly the series finale.

I feel like a lot of us going into TMAGP and having listened to TMA already were probably pleasantly surprised by Alice’s attitude of “The Horrors? Just say no!” since a lot of TMA revolved around the idea that curiosity and investigation of the fears usually doomed people to be consumed by one of them, as we saw with a lot of the Archive staff, particularly Jon. I certainly was. Though her ideas about how to deal with the incident reports are definitely somewhat callous, in the context of TMA, they feel very pragmatic, and I found myself thinking, “finally, a character who knows what genre she’s in and refuses to surrender to it.” I’ve been seeing a couple people agree with this, and say that her approach might even help her stay afloat when things start to escalate as the conflicts of TMAGP develop in the coming episodes. I thought that too, at least for a while. 

After thinking about it for several days, I don’t think this is the case. Given TMA’s themes and propensity for tragedy, and Jonny’s approach to tackling social issues, I don’t think Alice’s apathy is going to save her. In fact, I think it’s potentially going to be the character flaw that will doom her in the first place.

1. Alice already cares (not about the horrors, but about people)

To start with, I’d like to point out that Alice will only be able to maintain her apathy to a limited extent, and when people she cares about start being harmed, she is going to get involved. In fact, we can already see this happening. Ep 3 notably starts and ends with Alice making a plan to get Central IT involved in looking into their computers, when she tries to mention them to Colin in the first scene, and when she asks Sam to call them on her behalf in the final scene. I’d argue that the issue comes up because she’s concerned about Colin more than fixing the OIAR’s computers. She tells Sam it’s because Colin may not be able to handle FR3-D1 as well as he thinks he can since he’s been working on it forever with very little positive progress, but given the additional context of the starting scene, I think it’s reasonable to assume she also wants to meddle for Colin’s sake. In the first scene of ep 3, she seemingly talks more softly/slowly than usual (to me, it sounds like she’s trying to be soothing when compared to how she normally talks, even outside of the times she’s actually soothing FR3-D1), she doesn’t make too many digs at Colin as he sounds increasingly stressed, and she asks gently and subtly about calling Central IT for help when she is generally pretty direct when she seriously wants something (like all the times she repeatedly shuts down Sam’s questions because she wants him to stay out of danger). It sounds like she’s trying to slip it in as a half-joke, but Colin treats it as a genuine suggestion when he usually either brushes off her jokes or plays into them instead, so I think it was her actual intent to involve Central IT even at that point. Furthermore, Gwen tells Sam something along the lines of “Alice is the only one [Colin] tolerates” in a previous episode, they have good banter throughout so far, and Colin’s explosive reaction to Sam mentioning the app completely deflates when he learns it was Alice’s idea. All of this seemingly demonstrates a bond that goes pretty far beyond what I’d think of as a basic work relationship with no actual friendship involved. Colin is already pretty deep into investigating FR3-D1 to the point that it’s probably going to be detrimental for him based on him threatening/ranting at the computers in the first episode, and Alice is already trying to intervene on his behalf. Simply put, she is doing a pretty bad job of pretending not to care and staying out of it so far, and we’re only 3 episodes in.

With that in mind, I don’t even think Colin will be the primary reason she’ll get involved as the series goes on, and I actually think Sam is being set up to be the one to draw her into much of the conflict. She cares enough about Sam to find him a job when he’s having a rough time, based on their conversation in the bar, and she tells him not to care about the incidents precisely because she cares about him, and doesn’t want him to get sucked in and hurt by them. With Sam’s propensity for curiosity established and likely being set up to be one of his fatal flaws, Alice will probably get drawn into the conflict whether she likes it or not if/when Sam goes digging and actually stumbles on something dangerous later on. As a side note, I really do think Sam’s curiosity is being set up to be something big here, since he repeatedly wants to look into the Magnus Institute and says it’s a “blast from the past,” he wonders about how the code system works and how it could be improved, and he’s generally shown to ask a lot of questions about the OIAR, Gwen’s backstory, etc. He asks about things more often than I think he would if his questions were purely an expositional device for the audience and not actual characterization (I could make a post just about this, but I think other people have definitely already done that). Finally, our very first introduction to Alice as a character in TMAGP shows her trying and failing to be glib and uncaring about Teddy leaving, where she jokes with him casually before admitting, sincerely and somewhat hesitantly, “I’m gonna miss you.” If her failing to not care about something in the opening scene of the entire series isn’t going to turn out to be important, if not Jonny Sims style foreshadowing of some kind, I’ll eat my hat.

2. Apathy kind of sucks, actually (thematically and otherwise)

Alice being saved by her refusal to care, assuming she manages to maintain it, feels too much like an easy out for the kinds of stories TMA was trying to tell, and clashes with its sensibilities in my opinion. A lot of people fall into the trap of nihilistic apathy when thinking about the state of the world right now, and TMA even acknowledged this in the series with the Extinction beginning to emerge as a new entity/fear. Between worsening climate change, the gradual rise of bigotry and the increasing trend toward fascism in the western world (especially america, it sucks here), escalating international conflict, poverty and the worsening cost/standard of living, like the fact that a majority of people my age will probably never own a house and our college debt is going to eat us alive, etc., it feels like we’re all circling the drain and no one with the power to help is interested in doing anything other than making it worse to make themselves money. A lot of people think the only way to cope with that is to decide to not give a shit, which is a pretty natural response to being constantly confronted with worse and worse news every year that shows no sign of stopping. This has also naturally inspired a lot of doomerism and a rise in insincerity/irony poisoning and cynicism in popular culture that’s really hard to escape even if you avoid the news entirely.

However, the idea that not giving a shit about the problems in the world can somehow spare you from them is a) ludicrous, since they won’t go away if you decide to ignore them (a majority of the TMA statement givers didn’t previously know or care about the fears, and they got screwed over regardless), and b) definitely not supported by TMA’s cannon or themes. Surrendering to the idea of your own helplessness is precisely what TMA ends by specifically not doing. Jon sunk into a hopeless state of mind throughout S5, with the culmination of this process being his proposal to let the world end and allow the End to consume everything, including the rest of the fears. It wasn’t necessarily that Jon didn’t care or was apathetic, especially since one of his primary motivation was to avoid inflicting the fears on another universe, rather, he didn’t think anything could be done to stop the fears from destroying his world or whatever world they ended up in, which is the same deterministic mindset that Alice’s style of apathy stems from (“I can’t change or fix it, so I don’t care”). The other characters refusing this course of action and banishing the fears is what ultimately spares TMA’s universe from the sort of extinction it would’ve had if they’d accepted that it was hopeless and Jon had gone through with what he wanted. TMA ends with the central takeaway that you can’t give in to the idea you won’t be able to fix things because then you won’t try, and shows the characters subverting their helplessness and actually solving the problem of the fears by getting rid of it at the source (the ethics of sending the fears somewhere else are definitely debatable, but that’s a totally different post). The idea that Alice could be saved from the consequences of the problems in TMAGP’s world by choosing not to care flies in the face of the conclusion to the previous series. Alice’s refusal to care won’t save her from whatever TMAGP has in store, and judging by the events of TMA, fatalism and apathy might even seal her fate. 

Some of these points of evidence might be a little bit basic “water is wet” types of statements and I probably could’ve explained this in half the time, but I really do think that Alice’s apathy isn’t going to turn out to be very useful to her and I wanted to include everything I could think of that led me to believe that.

TLDR, Alice is just as screwed as the rest of the cast, if not more so, and her attitude is not going to get her out of it.

[hana-bobo-finch]

IT IS TIME FOR ANOTHER WONDERFUL ROUND OF RANDOM PIKMIN HEADCANONS OKEY DOKEY

• Hocotate and Koppai are in the same solar system. Koppai is much further away from the sun than Hocotate so it has a colder climate than Hocotate. Creatures on Koppai have thick fur to compensate (and Koppaites have thicker body hair) (this is an excuse for me to draw fluffy things heehee)

• relating to that, one of the reasons Koppaites struggle with agriculture is because of the cold temperatures

• ^ and because the government sucks! I had a long drawn out conversation about this topic before and I will not just regurgitate all my points but the Koppaite government is corrupt!!! Yay!!! The food + poverty crises are used as a way to take advantage of people (not saying the government STARTED them purposely but they sure as hell didn’t try very hard to stop it)

• Most planets have their own native languages but over time and with advances in space travel they got less common. It used to be that only frequent travelers would learn the universal language, but as travel became more accessible more people started learning it and teaching it to their children by default.

• ^ even then a lotta people still have VERY thick accents.

• Koppaites have much worse hearing than most because of their rounded ears. While others have more of a cone shape to their ears, Koppaite’s ears are more flat and don’t pick up sound as well (and they can’t pinpoint where exactly sound comes from. You ever see how a cat twitches their ears aroun when they hear the slightest sound, that’s how most species are. Meanwhile Koppaites have the Bad Inferior Round Ear Gene)

• Ohrians have very specific pheromones they give off. YES this is because of the stupid comic I made where yonny “smells gay” it’s not MY fault everyone loves it for goodness sake even my friend who knows nothing about pikmin and who I didn’t think would find that sort of thing funny thought it was the funniest thing ever I’m so confused help

• Giya’s culture focuses heavily on dogs. Like how in Tokyo there’s these big ass billboards with hyper realistic 3d models of cats

• ^ dingo was so SO not prepared for that when he moved to giya to join the rescue corps. Save him. He is a pathetic creature. He didn’t do enough research before moving there he just wanted to become a ranger already. It was a horrific realization. The soggy-cat-of-a-man had a panic attack and almost made the impulsive decision to Get The Heck Outta There and move back to ohri. Bless his cold, dead heart

• Speaking of which! Dingo joined the corps about a year before yonny did. It was absolute torture for them both to have to have a long distance relationship ermmm friendship

• yonny only joined as the doctor because the old doctor FUCKING DIED!!! i don’t know how they died I just think it’s funny for there to be such a dramatic reason. maybe they got mauled by ravenous space bunnies. Sure let’s go with that.

• Hocotate freight is very very stuck in the past. Even for our standards. The president is a huge boomer who thinks old is gold. What he does not understand is that the fact that their equipment is falling apart is why they can’t stay afloat

• puddle wants so. SO BADLY. to do fashion experiments on the Koppaites. He thinks their different anatomy is so incredibly fascinating and he NEEDS to take full advantage of it (the only outward difference is their round ears but HE DOES NOT CARE.) He has on numerous occasions tried to manipulate the three into letting him pierce their ears. Guys come on. It would be so awesome. Please. Your ears are so cool let me look at them PLEASE

• ^ all three never let him. It makes puddle insane. He is normally such a nice and chill guy but it makes him so feral. Keep him away from them do not let him go near alph’s emo brother he WILL chase him with a piercing gun

• Hocotate Whiz (what, you don’t know what that is? It’s the company that spams your mail in pikmin 2 offering to help Hocotatians change jobs, I can’t believe you didn’t know that (I did not know this until a few minutes ago)) is ran solely by the families of Hocotate Freight workers. They spam the emails of the ships to try to convince the workers to change jobs because they KNOW that it is a hellhole and they NEED TO GET OUT. SAVE THEM. SAVE THE WORKERS OF HOCOTATE FREIGHT

• Bernard is Santi’s sleep paralysis demon

• Yonny has rusty and bloody medical equipment strewn across his lab for the sole purpose of freaking people out. He’s actually incredibly sanitary to the point of being borderline germaphobic

• as if Collin didn’t have enough work to do already he kinda fills the role of the team’s unofficial therapist. He doesn’t actually mind all too much bc he’s Way Too Nice but. Save him.

• the paint shepherd has under her eyes? It’s to reduce sun glare? WRONG. It’s because it looks AWESOME and she would totally paint her face with incredibly detailed designs but apparently looking like a walking painting is “unprofessional” and “disturbs the people we’re rescuing” and “stop spending our budget on face paint”

umm there’s probably more in my noggin but I am getting a headache so that is all 🧍

[gingerylangylang1979]

If he gets his shit together Carmy could be an amazing husband and father

Currently, Carmy is a hot mess. But I really hope the show doesn’t intend for that to be his end game. Yes, he will always struggle with mental health issues. People aren’t cured of them, it’s a matter of managing life with them. If only mentally healthy people had spouses and children most of us wouldn’t be here and the world would be a lonely place. Unless someone is a danger to themselves and others I hate it when I hear people trying to dictate who should reproduce and who shouldn’t. I don’t even want to get into the mildly hinting at eugenicist implications of such statements.

Carmy has a way to go. Some may say he shouldn’t have had a romantic relationship. Looking back I actually think it was good that he at least tried. At the moment he thinks it was a mistake and he shouldn’t try again. But that will change as he progresses. It was a learning experience. It showed that he is capable of giving his heart, caring for a partner, being romantic, letting loose, being domestic. It also shows that there is a part of him that is unfulfilled without a relationship. It was just bad timing with the wrong person. 

Beyond that I think part of Carmy’s character is a sense of respect and care for women. He speaks up when Richie harasses Sydney and when the guys were being vulgar about Claire at Christmas. He hasn’t really had a role model for chivalry and feminism but he has those values and isn’t afraid of being called “weird”. He doesn’t seem to care about fitting into the Berzatto male paradigm. He actively tries to escape it when it comes to worldview. This is why Richie calls him “woke”. Richie is built different. Mikey is built different. 

Carmy is a product of the best traits of his generation and exposure to different lifestyles. He’s traveled. He’s worked with women as his superiors and equals. He’s not afraid to bring Sydney on as his CDC, Tina on as her Sous, and Natalie as project manager. He has anger issues that are often directed at Sydney but it’s not because she’s a woman. We never see him try to dominate in his relationship with Claire. He also isn’t intimidated that Claire has post-graduate education and may have more long term earning potential than him unless he really becomes a culinary mogul. 

Carmy has paternal instincts. At the kid’s birthday party he knew they would want ketchup, he made the ecto-cooler, he was more concerned than anyone else about them being sedated. He made Tiff probably the best Sprite on the planet. I’m sure when Nat’s baby arrives he will be smitten, even if a fish out of water. I’m curious if he has interacted with Ava. 

With the staff he is nurturing when opportunities arise. He sold off some of his prized denim to keep the place afloat. He still makes the beef even if it’s the wrong cut. He continues service after the toilet explodes because they have to keep it movin. He consoles Marcus when he fucked up service. He also warns him to stay on track but didn’t hold it against him when he actually did go off point. He bails Richie out with their parachute. He sends Marcus to Copenhagen, Tina and Ebra to culinary school, Richie to Chef Terry. He gives Sydney the space to experiment and fail. He keeps everyone on and paid. He fucks up big time and becomes unhinged but he earnestly apologizes. He’s trying. He cares. He knows he needs work. He wants to provide in the best way he’s able at the moment. 

So with time, patience, and consistency, perhaps years from now I can really see him being a great partner and father. Carmy is a survivor. He doesn’t give up, he’s gonna make shit happen, he’s good at pivoting, he stays committed. Please let him have a wife and kid(s) someday if he desires. Thinking he should be alone forever is deeply pessimistic. 

Adding: Carmy is also very attentive. His radar goes off immediately when Sydney is upset. He tries to fix it. He’s struggling now but he wants to put in the work and won’t leave things with them at odds. He’s not too proud to apologize.

[your-resident-boat-person]

A BOAT PERSON YEEEEEES BOATS BOATS BOATS BOATS BOATS DO YOU HAVE A REASON FOR LOVING THEM? YOU HAVE A LIST OF FAVS AND THEY ARE GREAT ARE THERE ANY YOUD RECOMMEND PEOPLE LEARN ABOUT OR THAT YOU WANT TO INFODUMP ON SPECIFICALLY SORRY FOR THE CAPS I AM VERY VERY EXCITED

Okay, so, if I had to give a reason for liking ocean liners, the answer is probably that I'm a mega-autist. However, it started in the 5th grade. Like everyone else, Titanic was my gateway drug. That eventually expanded into other ocean liners.

If I had to recommend one to learn more about, it would easily be the SS America.

She had a long and storied 55-year-long career. I highly recommend the documentary by Oceanliner Designs on YouTube. However, I will give an abridged version of her story beneath the cut. It's a thrilling story, so if you're interested, don't read this; go watch his video. Its better:

Designed by the famous naval architect William Francis Gibbs, she was launched on August 31st, 1939. The day before World War II began. She was actually part of FDRs new deal program, meant to help the United States recover from the great depression. Her construction employed thousands of people, and nearly every state contributed to her in some way. She was built to a 3 compartment standard, meaning with 3 of her 14 watertight compartments flooded, shed stay afloat. This is actually better than most modern cruise ships, I might add. She was completed on April 16th, 1940, but given all the U-Boats everywhere, she couldn't exactly serve as a transatlantic liner. So the maiden voyage of this ocean liner was actually a Mediterranean cruise. United States Lines actually painted two giant American flags on each side of her hull, with the text “AMERICA UNITED STATES LINES” in big, bold letters, just in case they somehow did encounter a U-Boat.

America was a neutral country at the time, so that kind of thing was important to advertise. Eventually, the US got pulled into the war, and the SS America was requisitioned as a troopship and renamed the USS West Point. I don't know if this is confirmed, but I suspect that it's because if she were lost in the war, announcing that a ship bearing the name of our country had been lost to enemy action would be a huge blow to morale. When her running mate, the SS United States, was constructed, the US government tried to pressure William Francis Gibbs into giving her a different name for this exact reason. It didn't work. I love him. Anyway, here's a picture of her during her service.

The SS America carries the honor of being one of the few ships to never have a single death occur on board during the war. She might have actually been the only one. Anyway, in 1946, she was returned to United States Lines and renamed back to SS America. This time, when they repainted her back to her civilian colors, they ditched the name and flags on the sides of her hull. (Thank god.) Her career with USL was successful, if uneventful. In 1952, the SS United States was introduced. The Big U was about 267 feet longer, twice the size, and twice the speed. Given that the SS United States is still, to this day, the fastest passenger ship of all time, America had a little bit of trouble keeping up. America's passenger numbers fell after this, but she still had many loyal passengers who preferred her. The SS United States’ interior design was a tad lackluster compared to the SS America.

With rising operating costs and competition from air travel, she was deemed an unnecessary part of the USL fleet. In 1964, they put America up for sale. She was bought by Chandrice Line, which serviced the postwar emigrant run from Europe to Australia and New Zealand.

America was renamed Australis and served them until 1977, when, faced with ever-increasing fuel costs, could no longer compete with air travel. She is remembered to this day by many of the emigrants as being a very happy ship, but Chandrice didn't exactly maintain her very well. On one voyage, part of her hull opened up, and a compartment partially flooded. The crew was unable to fix it, and for the rest of the 3 week voyage, she had an awful list over to one side.

Now comes the most shameful part of her career. In 1978, she was bought by Venture Cruise Lines for 5 million dollars. Seeking to capitalize on nostalgia, they offered 5 day cruises to nowhere. To prepare her for this new role, they repainted her in what was definitely her second-ugliest configuration, and they gave her her old name back.

And then they kinda… stopped. They made no effort to modernize her (a ship constructed in the 1930s), and her interiors were, for lack of a better word, a dump. The swimming pool was full of garbage bags, toilets were overflowing, and there were rats and bugs everywhere. It was a nightmare. Truly, a predecessor to the poop cruise from hell. The passengers on her first cruise actually mutinied, and the ship barely made it past the Statue of Liberty before the captain turned her around. The health inspection board was called in, and they examined the ship. They gave her a score of 6.

Out of a possible 100.

Venture went bust, and America was put up for sale again.

Shockingly, the ones who bought her were Chandrice Line again, for 1 million dollars. Meaning they profited 4 million dollars while also getting their ship back in the process. She was renamed AGAIN to Italis, and her forward funnel was so corroded that it had to be cut off, giving her an extremely ugly and unbalanced profile. Even to the lay person, most can tell at this point that she looked very sad.

Her final years with Chandrice were short and uneventful, only lasting 2 years. Chandrice wanted to completely modernize her and have her serve as a modern cruise ship, but this never happened. She then bounced around from owner to owner. First, she was the Noga, intended to become a prison ship. Then she was the Alferdoss, but only the port bow was the Alferdoss, because they only put the name on one side of the hull. So the starboard bow and the stern were still the Noga. She was nearly sold for scrap, but after they scrapped the lifeboats, they defaulted on their payment and pulled out. Then, she was bought by a Thai investment firm, which intended to completely restore her and convert her into a 5-star hotel, much like the Queen Mary had in the 1970s. After a short period of drydocking, it was found that, despite the neglect, her hull was in remarkably good condition. The trip from New Zealand to Phuket, Thailand, was a long and dangerous one. Approximately 100 days. A Ukrainian tug won the contract, and in 1994, they set off…

only to immediately turn around due to the weather. They tried again, and again the weather turned against them. The tow line snapped, and they sent crew aboard to try to reattach it, but it was no use. They were airlifted off by helicopter, and the SS America, now named SS American Star, was set adrift. There was no one aboard, and the ship had no power. Seemingly tired of the years of neglect and mistreatment, the SS America decided to go out on her own terms. She went aground at Playa de Garcey, off the west coast of Fuerteventura in the Canary Islands. Within 48 hours, the pounding waves broke her in two.

She was declared a total loss and promptly abandoned. The waves quickly ate through the stern, causing it to deteriorate very quickly. The bow, however, remained standing, up until about 2008, when it began collapsing into the sea.

It's difficult to imagine that at one point, this was the grand old lady of the seas.

By 2013, nothing of her was left standing above the surface.

Along with her eye-achingly beautiful appearance, she had an extremely long and storied career. So that's why she's my favorite liner of all time. Most liners only last 25 to 35 years. Hell, the SS United States was only in service for 17 years. The SS America had a 55-year-long career. 74 if you count the time she spent wrecked, as she frequently got visitors. She was a truly outstanding ship, and I'm devastated that she couldn't be preserved. If it's any consolation, Phuket was struck by a major typhoon in 2004, so America was probably doomed regardless. If I could pick one liner from history to undo the fate of and magically preserve, it would EASILY be her.