#because to their teenage influencer minds that's worse

[sylvanfreckles]

Real talk, though...Romeo and Juliet but with rival influencer families.

"Two houses, both alike in...well, they call it 'dignity'."

[arminsumi]

HI JAY can i request accidentally getting armin hard?🤭 straddling him during something odm related for whatever n bro gets bricked up to the high heavens n youre both so shy n flustered BUT YALL GOTTA FUCK ATP

needa feel you

🔞 minors shoo / n.sfw / smut / 18+ content

note: ooh i love love love this !! fits armin perfectly 🤤

warnings — dirty talk, d!ck visuals, light begging, unprotected sex, creampie, creaming, prec*m, u and him being horny

you were just demonstrating to him a better hip shifting technique to go faster, and the poor boy blushed up to his ears. searing. hot. red. he started stuttering so badly he felt like he was a boy in the cadets again.

and when armin gets hard? god damn he gets hard. throbbing. hot. his juicy tip presses tight against those already tight white pants, the outline looking so good you wanna tug those pants off and take him into your mouth.

when you smile at him after noticing his hardness, he sputters apologies. " fuck, i'm sorry, haha. i-i don't know what's the matter with me, sorry. uh, sh-shit well don't move like that or you'll make it worse. "

" it's — okay. i don't mind. it's... natural, after all. " you speak slowly, nerves tingly. " wh - y... why don't we take care of it so we can get back to practicing more positions — uh, combat positions, you know. of course. "

his eyes widen, the whites showing around those pretty blue irises. you just completely flustered the poor boy.

but those eyes become lidded when the two of you end up with your bodies intertwined, sweaty and noisy and panting, fucking like two bunnies. it's all because of how you grinded your hips on his pelvis so erotically earlier.

feeling your plush thighs engulf his sides made him beg like a dog: "needa feel you, needa feel you so fucking bad please please please let's just d-do it here." he panted, kissing you like a lust-crazed teenager. as soon as you breathlessly nodded, he unfastened his belt — not bothering with taking off all his gear... that's just too much effort. so you fuck half-clothed, and it drives him wild. he's always eyed out the way the thigh belts squeeze your skin and make plush dents.

he's high on lust, head spinning. min's so dizzy from the feeling of your soft walls clenching tight around him, hugging his pretty, veined cock. you're milking out all his precum, creaming so much that a white wring forms around the base of his cock and he can feel it.

you feel and taste so sweet to him, it's too much. he has to stop thrusting every now and then just to catch his breath. and when he does that, his dumb fat tip digs into your favorite gummy spot, his length unmoving. his happy trail hair subtly grazes against your tummy as he keeps himself as close as possible to your body.

" that's so good — so good — so good so good, you feel so fucking good. s-ooo fucking good, baby ! " he pants, vocals straining and brows kneading together.

his body tenses up, muscles flexing and sweat dripping down the contours of his physique.

" don't stop, please don't you fucking stop, 'min. gonna make me cum. " you speak and shiver when he starts up those sloppy strokes again.

your head goes empty, body goes numb on pleasure; how can it feel this insanely good? min's falling apart under your influence. when he cums, he blurts out some surprising things.

like a chant of " i love you i love you i love you — i fucking love you ! " right as he fills you to the brim with his creamy release.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[massiveladycat]

i will never get over people laughing at octavian's death personally,,, he was SHOT INTO THE AIR!!! thats so painful. all the burns and the impact, plus being flung from a cannon and probably slamming into gaia (literal earth goddess) plus festus (gigantic metal dragon, i bet that HURT) and leo (pretty sure leo was burning)

he was a kid and he was annoying to some people and he was usually antagonized but he didnt deserve to die OR go out in that way. the gods are a thousand times worse than octavian, and apollo told him that he'd be a savior of new rome, but people still justify them. not to mind there are much worse people in the PJO universe (gabe, LUKE)

octavian ily they could never make me hate you EVER. idc what you say he could have been redeemed. did he do bad things? yes. but he was so deeply influenced and the day meeting with leo and the others, in which i remind you octavian literally was watching new rome get blown up (no wonder he was livid, his home was on FIRE).

like come on. octavian is a complex character and people aren't willing to admit that he could've been better and he was just a literal teenager in the sake of hating him because everyone else/pjo characters hate him.

he is such a tragic character imo because he grew up in new rome and all he wanted to do was protect it (and he was highly ambitious and aiming for praetor, i won't deny the fact that he was selfish but that is a quality that can be REDEEMED) and sure the way he went about it was messed up but most of his actions (except killing that one centurion) were justifiable

btw im not saying octavian's like an angel or anything im pretty sure i remember him "killing" a 5th cohort centurion once but then she was revived which . . . what was the point of that?? was it just to like make us hate him more?? huh??? and then was it even ever talked about again?? also yeah he blackmailed hazel thats not good also judging from the wikipedia it only said frank suspected octavian because.. he didn't have his spear?? what?? reminder that there is proof that a lot of pjo characters are unreliable narrators and for all we know octavian could've screwed up somehow and left his spear somewhere (just saying i'd do that too ngl)

also "I am the savior of Rome! I was promised!" i didnt know why but that quote DESTROYED me but now i know that it was because he genuinely believed he was doing the best for new rome and he'd finally have someone's praise and they'd praise him like they praised percy and reyna. pretty sure his mental state was not very good in that scene either and nico and will just let him shoot himself out of an onager on accident. also are we just going to gloss over the fact apollo told him that and encouraged him he was doing the right thing?? of COURSE octavian trusted apollo on that and believed it was the truth; apollo was his ancestor and someone he worshipped as an augur and trusted in for omens and prophecies and allat

yeah. octavian's an asshole. but he was a kid and he couldve been redeemed. then again i am a huge octavian apologist and im not saying you have to have the same opinions as i do also i will not be responding to any asks in my inbox im 2 tired to deal with that!! anyways dont go and insult people or me if you think the opposite thats fine !! i was just bored and found this in my drafts so whats the harm of posting it because im not going to get sent threats over this right,,, right??????

[kcrabb88]

One thing that's clarified for me a few days after the Acolyte finale is the immense mismatch in the tone of Quimir's character post episode 5. In that episode we see him slaughter a bunch of highly competent Jedi, including a teenage girl who he refers to as "it." It was SCARY. I was scared. He pretended he was a kind of silly guy at first and then he was actually this monster beneath. After that episode, though, he just kind of ... was there. Sure he fought Sol, but he got his ass kicked. He was suddenly in a dark romance novel bathing naked and making big puppy eyes at Osha. That's not?? What I want from a Sith character in this time period? Manny Jacinto was amazing at being terrifying! Just let him!

The Sith of this time period were the line of Darth Bane. Right now, Tenebrous and Plagueis are out there with their piles of money quietly influencing galactic events and undermining the Republic and the Jedi by working with THE worse people you know to make conditions in the Outer Rim and other similar areas of the galaxy worse. They're like, the Peter Thiel of Star Wars, slowly making democracy crumble from a back room and creating so many problems that the good people in the senate and the Jedi are running around trying to fix those because they CARE. Like! In the Legends novel, Plagueis is out there medically experimenting on living beings to try and extend his own life. He force tricked another kid into throwing himself out of a window when he was like, five.

The Sith aren't Sith because a Jedi made a mistake once. The Sith of this period are enacting a 1,000 year plan of revenge because the Jedi took their power and their empire away from them. Like, that's just Lucas worldbuilding. The ability to make the Naboo blockade happen was because of centuries of dark influence. When a Jedi falls to the dark side, they don't have this "grand plan of the Sith" in mind. It's a different situation, and many of them return to the light. Anakin didn't fall because he wanted the glory of the Sith, he fell out of fear and did terrible things as a result. He came back (after the atrocities, yes, but he did). Quinlan fell for a short while desperately trying to take DOWN the Sith (both in legends and canon) so again, not a glory of the Sith thing, and he came back really fast. Even Dooku was never a Sith's Sith. He did awful stuff, but the Sith thing was more of an avenue for his arrogance in thinking he could replace the Republic with corporate power and that would fix everything.

But the line of Darth Bane? Those guys are fucken EVIL. They want to be evil. They were always evil. Palpatine is the culmination of a thousand years of planning, and he kills his own master to ensure he keeps it for himself--the ultimate show of being a Sith, honestly.

Anyway, I guess THAT is the show I thought I was going to get, full of political intrigue and the slow seep of darkness that connects to the prequels. But that's not what it was at all.

[theprettynosferatu]

CW: covert hypno, misogyny, step-sibling stuff.

I

Claire was in a foul mood, stomping like a toddler through the hallway of her childhood home. Ah yes, coming back home from College was always a mixed bag. On the one hand, she loved spending time with (and being pampered by) her mom and Rick, her step-dad. But on the other hand, it meant dealing with The Asshole.

He hadn’t always been The Asshole, and that just hurt even more. Somewhere beneath his alpha male bullshit were the remains of her step-brother John. Surely that sweet, shy boy had to be inside this new, incredibly annoying person… but no matter how hard she tried, Claire couldn’t make the person she had loved as a brother emerge from the armor of pick-up artistry and right-wing bastardry John had built around himself. 

It had started during his senior year of high-school, her first one away in college. Maybe he got bullied too much, maybe he listened to too many podcasts and influencers… who knew? The point was that John started hitting the gym, spouting sexist bullshit, bragging about his sexual conquests. And little by little, in her mind, John started to disappear. Now, three years later, she could only think of him as The Asshole. And so, she tried to avoid him as much as humanly possible when she was back home.

It soured the experience for her. It seemed impossible that The Asshole was Rick’s son- after all, Rick was a good man. He had treated Claire like a daughter, with a respect and kindness her biological father had never shown; that was, when that deadbeat had even been around. Claire never called Rick “dad”, but she did feel him as a dad in her heart, and the memories of her “real” father were hazy and growing more and more faint with the years. With horror she realized her memories of John were fading as well, devoured by The Asshole. She fought to remember that The Asshole had once been a decent kid.

The Asshole, for his part, made that task incredibly hard. His off-hand comment that she’d be happier dropping out of college and being a “proper wife” had made her storm off the dinner table. Hence her stomping in that hallway, going to her room. She slammed the door. It would be a long summer. 

II

Pathetic. She couldn’t think of a better word for it. She should feel violated, perhaps- after all, she had caught The Asshole using her laptop- but she found it hard to even muster up anger. She felt disgusted, and also a bit sorry for him. His explanation was as ridiculous as she could have expected from him.

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t being a low value whore, chatting with a bunch of dudes.”

Sure, Asshole. That’s what I need: you as the guardian of my virtue, she thought. Still, it was an excuse, and she would hold on to it. The alternative explanation was worse and even contemplating it felt abominable. And yet a little part of her, a voice deep inside her head couldn’t help but feel relief.

I’m glad my nudes are on my phone.

No. Better to not go there. John was her step-brother. Even after becoming the prick he had turned into, he wouldn’t see her… like that.

Would he?

She knew he saw her friends like sex toys, given that two of them had confessed to being somehow persuaded by his alleged charms. Needless to say, those girls were now former friends- not so much because they slept with The Asshole and more because they had given him ammo: it made it harder to argue that his toxic manosphere crap was repulsive when he could throw such conquests in Claire’s face. But not even the world’s biggest douchebag would cross the line that separated family and attraction. And they had been family, once. God, it hurt to remember.

She had screamed at him like a fucking teenager, but what was she expected to do? And he had walked away like nothing had happened, like she didn’t catch him red handed. Claire took a deep breath. Fuck it. Let it go. Don’t let him ruin your break. She sat down for an evening of happy, mindless Youtube binging.

Huh. Was the screen acting up? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but every now and then something felt… off. Well, it was no big deal; certainly not annoying enough to warrant an expensive trip to get the laptop checked out.

Shit. She figured the fight had left her more upset than she had thought: she had watched a two hour video essay on feminism and media representation and she couldn’t remember a second of it. A wave of fear came over her. Spacing out for two hours wasn’t normal. Maybe she was just tired. Yeah, that seemed right. Dealing with The Asshole was exhausting. She needed to sleep.

III

Relaxing ended up being easier than she had expected. She spent long hours in front of her laptop, whiling the time away, floating in a blissful state of pure peace. So what if she couldn’t always remember what she had watched? The effect was soothing, like soaking her brain in a nice hot tub. And she had at long last found a way to deal with The Asshole.

The key was so simple she felt dumb as a rock for not figuring out sooner. The way to avoid a fight was, simply, to avoid the fight. Why spend precious energy fighting a man who was incapable of changing his mind? So she didn’t. Whatever inane bullshit came out of his mouth, she let slide. Maybe give him a polite smile and nod so he would think she was actually paying attention, and daydream about her next laptop session. This was exactly what she needed: a full vacation for her overworked brain.

Around the end of the first week the benefits of Claire’s new regiment became evident. She felt less irritable, giddier, somehow… lighter. And even her libido, long buried under a pile of stress was coming back with a vengeance. Why else would she emerge from her laptop dives soaking wet, needing to pleasure herself as intensely as she needed to breathe? And the way her body felt! Before, her… playing was quick, almost as if doing maintenance on some needed but almost forgotten piece of machinery. Now every time she played with herself was a celebration. She caressed her breasts, took her time, toyed with herself… it was no longer a race to orgasm. Her own body was the greatest show on Earth.

The effects of regular self-pleasuring, long documented in scientific literature, hit her like a train. She was relaxed, energetic- and hell, even The Asshole didn’t seem so annoying anymore. Just smile and nod at him and ignore his misogynistic ramblings. And, if she was being honest, even The Asshole was right, every now and then. Broken clocks and all that. 

You really should show off your legs more. Advertise your sexual value to high-status males.

Okay, so half of that was idiotic. But the legs thing? Right on the money. Claire twirled, letting her new, short sundress flutter and fly, and giggled. It felt light. She felt light. Radiant.

Every now and then her mind went back to the laptop. The screen was acting funny. Maybe she should do something about it, but it seemed like work, and she was home to relax. The laptop thing could wait.

Do you think men would be so nice to you if you didn’t have great tits?

Those words struck a chord inside her. She pondered them after a few hours of mindless laptop time. Sure, she knew she had large-ish breasts, and she wasn’t a complete idiot: men had been extremely fucking obvious about them since she had been a teen. But were tits -breasts- that important? Surely not. Her professors valued her for her intellect.

Didn’t they?

Then why had every professor that had mentored her and helped her out been a man? 

My big tits.

No, that was ridiculous. Silly. And yet, she barely noticed her hand sliding between her legs as she thought about it. My tits matter. My tits are what’s important.

She came almost instantly, and a wave of shame washed over her. She needed to escape it. Dodge it somehow. Laptop. Watch something on the laptop. Let it relax her.

Claire’s low-cut top didn’t go unnoticed at dinner. She wasn’t really sure why she had put it on. It just felt right. Rick obviously kept quiet, but The Asshole made no effort to hide his glances and his smug smile. She should be angry, something inside her told her; but it was a distant voice, faint and growing smaller. If anything she felt… valued. Desired. Worthy. Fuck it, even if it was The Asshole, she had to admit a bit of male attention now and then wasn’t so bad. She found herself blushing at first. Eventually, it was all too much. Claire excused herself and dashed to the bathroom. She fell on her knees, rubbing her pussy -vagina- with a desperation she had never felt before. She needed to cum. The Asshole’s eyes, and his sneer of superiority, and his hateful words… she had to bite her hand to stop herself from screaming.

Claire came back to the table, flustered but okay. Or so she thought.

“Pour me a Coke”, The Asshole said. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t a request. He had just treated her like a fucking servant.

And yet, she walked to the kitchen and made sure she poured the most perfect glass of Coke possible. She leaned in a bit while she placed it by his plate, giving him a beautiful view of her big, dumb tits. Breasts! Her breasts! What the fuck was wrong with her?

“Thank you, cunt”, The Asshole whispered.

Claire froze. She should… what? Slap him? Scream at him? Lecture him? What would be the point? No, it was better to let it slide. Smile and nod.

Smile? Smile after that? What the fuck was she thinking? Claire was mortified. Turning in bed, she wished she could take that stupid smile back and… fucking punch The Asshole for calling her a…

Why? Why, why, why? Why was she so fucking wet? It was disgusting! He was disgusting! 

…She was disgusting, getting soaked at being called a…

It was too strong. She tried to fight it, she truly did, but her pussy, her traitorous fucking pussy refused to give up, driving her insane. A cunt. He had called her a cunt. Her fingers went into her body. She wasn’t gentle with herself. No, she fucked herself without mercy, like she imagined he would use her if he had a chance. Her mind was a vortex, a mess of words and images and shame and pleasure.

Cunt. Cunt. Big-titty cunt. I’m just a stupid cunt. My tits are all that matters. I’m just a cunt. I’m just holes and tits. I don’t need to make choices. I need to do as men tell me. Men know best. Men are superior. I’m just holes…

She woke up covered in sweat. Fuck. Had she passed out? What… what was wrong with her? She was an excellent college student…

She wanted to throw up. College. All that work. Thinking. And then what? A job? Stress? She couldn’t do it. No way. She was…

I’m too stupid and weak.

It felt so fucking good to think it. It was liberating. Relaxing. It felt like the universe was simple, and she was simple, and now her place in the world was simple. It was light and fresh and it made her want to burst out in giggles. 

A shower of images and words flooded her mind. Women on their knees. Women cooking in traditional aprons while wearing chokers. Women kissing, putting on shows for men. She had no idea when she had seen all that, and suddenly she couldn’t even care enough to fight the feeling. It all just felt… right. Sexy. Natural. It was her place. It was her purpose as a woman. As a cunt. As an inferior fleshlight. She moaned at the idea of sharing this new wonderful bliss with her stuck-up college friends, and making them see the light…

She didn’t even get mad when The Asshole got into her room without knocking. She didn’t even consider covering up. In fact, she felt happy when his eyes focused on her body.

I’m useful. My body makes me useful.

“What are you doing?”, He asked. Suddenly He wasn’t The Asshole anymore. He was a He, and He was always right, and she was meant to do as He said. Simple. Sexy. Fun.

“I just rubbed my dumb pussy until I passed out”, she blurted out before exploding in a symphony of delighted giggling. 

“You know, I know how you call me. Your cunt friends told me. So I’m The Asshole, huh?”

Claire looked at him with fuzzy, unfocused eyes. She’d never think that of a Man!

“What are you?” He asked.

“Holes!”, she replied excitedly. “And tits! And porn!”

“And what do you serve?”

She blanked for a moment. Serve? She did what Men told her, but that wasn’t serving, that was just… being herself. Being a good little cunt. It was natural. Then, as if to help her out, he let his trousers fall.

“Cock!” she yelped. “I serve cock!”

“Then serve”

Duh. Of course she served cock. How could she have forgotten? As she licked and wonderful, conquering cock in front of her, she realized how silly she had been. That was why Men did the thinking. She took in its smell, its smooth texture on her tongue, the way He looked down at her and she looked up at Him. It was just natural.

She was happy, she thought as she relaxed her throat and let that cock slide deeper and deeper inside her.

In the end, she never found out what, exactly, had happened with her laptop. 

Did you enjoy the story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu !

[dev-solovey]

Reading up on the history of American Idiot (album) and realizing exactly how revolutionary it was and I just have to yell about it for a hot second

So, before they started working on American Idiot, the band was having problems and they were thinking they were going to break up. But for a couple of reasons, they switched directions, most notably because they all felt strongly about the Iraq War and how it was manufactured by greed and warmongering from the Bush administration, which was amplified by the news media. I read a quote from Billie Joe Armstrong where he talked about how the news media was becoming "more of a reality show" than it was news, and he couldn't have been more right. In fact, that problem got worse, and now we're living in an era of rampant misinformation where everything is politicized to a point where just supporting human rights for marginalized people is considered controversial. The song American Idiot came out in 2004, and when Donald Trump first visited the UK at the beginning of his presidency, it was the top played song on every UK radio station, 12 years after it was released. Most things would be culturally irrelevant at that point.

When creating the album American Idiot, a lot of thought went into it - they had a very specific message in mind, and their goal was to send that message to youth. This is because they realized at some point that their fanbase was a bunch of teenagers, and even though they hadn't necessarily intended it that way, they suddenly had a platform with the youth of America and they decided they ought to do something good with it. The drummer, Tré Cool, said something along the lines of "I've never really liked the idea of preaching to kids, but I realized we don't really have a choice at this point." And I love that so much because like, so many people who get rich and famous just become completely out of touch, and when they get a platform, it's very easy to exploit that platform, influence them with terrible ideas, or encourage them to act in terrible ways for self-serving reasons (ex: JK Rowling, Andrew Tate, Dream, Logan Paul, Onision, etc etc). Green Day refused to allow themselves to get to that point. They know the platform they had gave them power and they made an active choice early on to be responsible with it. And a lot of that moral code comes from the fact that they came up in the DIY punk scene in Oakland, which held its members to a very high standard of ethics, a code that they still follow even after they were disowned by that scene when they signed on with a major record label in 1994.

The song American Idiot has a message of "this mass media hysteria is manufactured bullshit, don't fall for it," and it is not subtle about that message. It punches you right in the face. I remember being 12 years old and listening to it and thinking, "yeah, I don't want to be an American idiot." And now, at the age of 28, I am a staunch leftist who is firmly against the atrocities the US government commits, and I feel strongly about stopping misinformation. So I can say with absolute certainty that they succeeded.

I also get like, really upset when people say that American Idiot is the album where they sold out, because that's objectively not true, both for the reasons I've provided above, and also because of the song Wake Me Up When September Ends. Not a lot of people know the story behind this song, but it's actually a song that Billie Joe wrote about the experience of his dad dying of cancer when he was 10 years old. The story, as he tells it, is that when he came home from school, his mom gave him the news, and being (understandably!) upset, started crying, ran to his room and slammed the door. When she knocked on the door to try and talk to him, he shouted "wake me up when September ends!!" in response. It took him decades to be able to write this song, and it shows because it's the perfect grief song, having been played at benefits for 9/11, hurricane Katrina, and so on. The first time I heard that song it reduced me to tears, because you can hear the intense sadness in it. A "sellout" would never write a song like that!! (Side note: maybe stop tweeting at Green Day to wake up every October 1st, it's super tone deaf given the subject matter,,,)

Anyway, I think I'm done being autistic about Green Day (that's a lie, they'll forever be my special interest), so TL;DR:

Thank you, Green Day, for creating a generation of leftists who aren't about the bullshit

[akutasoda]

hellooo, may I request some platonic boothill hcs with a teen!reader?

cybernetic guardian

synopsis - boothill with a teen reader

includes - boothill - platonic

warnings - gn!teen!reader, fluff, slight angst, slight crack, wc - 409

taglist - @teddirika, @frankiesteinn, @little-miss-chaoss

↪the biggest question that occured when you were first seen with boothill was 'who in this galaxy thought allowing the cyborg cowboy to look after a teenager was a good idea?'

↪it didn't really matter what the answer was because while it may seem like a disaster waiting to happen, you two knew different. while it was true that boothill probably wasn't the greatest influence on you, that didn't really matter in your eyes especially because you two got on like a house on fire.

↪boothill may be a bit reckless for himself but that didn't mean he'd encourage you to do the same to the extent as him. he'd protect you at all costs as his body could be rebuilt over and over again, yours was still human and he wanted you to keep that.

↪although that didn't mean he couldn't still hand you a spare gun and teach you how to defend yourself - or really any weapon of your choosing, he didn't mind. if you were going to get by on your own you would need atleast some basics in defence and boothill would ensure you can survive.

↪and as much as people think boothill is a bad influence on you, they never really consider the fact that you were an even worse influence. sometimes you enjoy egging on the cowboy to show off a bit when on a mission as you always know he'd comply.

↪sometimes boothill grants you a ruffle on the head if you do something good, he almost feels like a proud parent - maybe to the point were he considers granting you medals similar to the ones on his clothes.

↪while boothill want's you to be more careful than he was, he also wants you to live your live to the absolute fullest. so if you don't mind there might be a couple wanted posters of you and boothill together.

↪that also means that there is no limit to what boothill would do for you, he practically see's you as a younger sibling and so if you want/want to do something then he will not stop until you have done or got it. you want to go all the way across the galaxy? pack your bags and get ready to go.

↪he wants to be able to guide you and help you make your way in the galaxy, no matter what you ended up doing he'd support you.

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: Intolerance, toxic religion, parental relationship, Jungkook taking off his clothes 😮‍💨🤲 very dumb reader.

A/N: This is my first fanfic on Tumblr and my first BTS one. I know, it's embarrassing. The story isn't that great, and it probably shouldn't be the first one I post here, but the characters took on a life of their own without my consent, and I've been writing this since 2022 (fuck), so here we are. Please keep in mind that English is not my first language and that the reader is extremely annoying. See you on the next chapter! Thank You.

Next Chapter

Chapter 1

I organize the things from the bazaar as I go through the accessories spread out on the table. It's a calm easy task and I've done it more than a thousand times, so even with my eyes closed the job is done masterfully. My mother is next to me, quietly, listening to music on an old radio that she refuses to throw away. It seems that, since it's a radio she got as a teenager, the object has a deep meaning for her and she doesn't even like the thought of exchanging it for something more modern. I hum along too, trying to tune my voice in some parts where the music gets harder and the notes get higher.

Usually on the weekends, every Sunday, my mother and I go to church and the bazaar after the service, to raise money and help the pastor's project. Pastor Leen is a good man and always helps everyone in need, so this semester, during these last months of the year, he has been focusing on the animals that live on the streets. Everyone in the community who goes to church participates and helps in whatever way they can, whether through donations or fundraising, like my mother and I do. That’s why we gathered some clothes and items for the church bazaar, and with the sales, we can do our part. It's exhausting, but rewarding in the end.

During the week, I study at the university in my town and work at the library, so there's not much time for rest, but I like having a busy life. Although I know that, for some people, my idea of a busy life might not seem busy at all. At twenty-one, I’m supposedly supposed to be somewhere else in the world, enjoying my youth and partying with my friends, but strangely, I never wanted that. Whether it’s because of my mother, who always instructed me not to follow that path, or because I’m just introverted, I’ve never gone to parties or had adventures that I could look back on later. The most out-of-the-ordinary thing I've ever done was drink beer when I was eighteen and regret it the next day, feeling guilty for being influenced by a friend.

I’ve never left this town. I’ve never dated. I’ve never been to a party. I haven’t done many memorable things in life. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll regret not having these experiences someday, but I’m so tied to the way I live my life that it’s hard to change, even just a little. Habits are hard to break, whether for better or worse. I’m pulled from my thoughts when the store door opens and Mrs. Jeon walks in with a smile on her face and two heavy bags in her hands. I quickly get up intending to help her, but my mother is faster.

“Good morning, Eunji,” Mrs. Jeon greets my mother, letting out a relieved sigh as the weight of one of the bags is lifted from her hands. “Good morning, Y/N, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Mrs. Jeon. How has your week been?” I ask, taking the other bag from her. I peek inside and notice that it’s full of men’s clothes, judging by the size and the predominantly dark colors.

“Radiant, actually. My son arrived in town last night,” she says, her smile widening. I’m surprised because I didn’t know she had a son. Mrs. Jeon moved to town six years ago, and I don’t recall any son visiting her or her mentioning him. This is the first time she’s spoken about it, at least in front of me.

“Your son, Jungkook?” my mother asks, curious, and our neighbor nods, still beaming. “Doesn’t he live in Seoul?”

“Yes, he does. But he’s been expanding his business, and I invited him to visit, and coincidentally, he decided to open a branch here,” she explains, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. My mother instantly flashes a smile. An interested smile that I know all too well.

Of course, because I’ve never dated, my mother is always trying to set me up with someone. Not that I want her to. I never asked her to make all this effort, much less to convince the church ladies to introduce their sons just because I’m single. It’s embarrassing, as if I’m not capable of finding someone on my own without my mother’s help, but she doesn’t listen, even when I had an honest conversation with her asking her to stop trying to play Cupid.

"What kind of business?" my mother asks, and I try not to roll my eyes. For a woman of God, she worries way too much about money and status. It's a controversial topic that has led to arguments between us in the past.

"He's a tattoo artist. He owns a tattoo studio in Seoul," Mrs. Jeon explains with a proud smile, and my mother's face immediately turns serious. The charm of a potential son-in-law is lost. Of course, no one is ever perfect enough for her—or for me, in her eyes.

I love my mother. She’s strong, and many times I look up to her when making important decisions, but she judges people too harshly. Ever since she joined the church when I was younger, she’s changed. She changed her clothes, the way she speaks, and even her thoughts. I can’t even remember what she was like before, and even though all these changes were a support for her after my father passed away, some aspects of the situation still bothers me. The fact that she believes people are going to hell just for having different opinions and ideas is one of them. Of course, I don’t argue with her about it and rarely express my point of view. If she knew how I really thought, I’d be a princess locked in her room, with no peace and even less freedom than I already have at home.

"He's a tattoo artist?" my neighbor nods, not noticing the bitter tone in my mother's voice. I decide to step in, anticipating some sharp comment from the woman beside me.

"Mrs. Jeon, thank you so much for the clothes and for your help. Just today we had three customers, and the clothes you donated sold very quickly," I interject, changing the subject. The tension in my shoulders eases as my neighbor shifts her focus to the bag in my hands.

"Oh, no need to thank me. I want to do as much as I can to help the animals. I adopted a puppy last week and I’m in love!" she says, placing her hands on her cheeks with joy, and I can’t help but smile. Mrs. Jeon is one of the few older people from the church that I enjoy talking to.

"What’s his name?"

"Gureum. He’s an angel," she says, forming the small size of the puppy with her hands.

"Gureum? Don’t tell me he’s all white," I guess, laughing at the name.

"He is!" she laughs with me, jingling the keys in her hand. "Anyway, I hope we get plenty of donations this month. I can't wait to see the results of our work."

"That’s true, Misuk. This month the winter will be harsher, so we have to act more quickly this year," my mother continues, and the conversation shifts to the church project. I feel more relieved as the minutes pass and Mrs. Jeon leaves. Not because of her, of course, but because of the situation itself. My mother is very straightforward and usually says what she thinks, no matter who it hurts. I don’t want my relationship with our neighbor to be ruined just because my mother doesn’t know how to hold her tongue.

"Did you hear what she said?" Eunji asks, her eyes wide, one hand on her chest as if she’s deeply shocked. "Her son is a tattoo artist! Do you think he has those awful marks all over his body?"

"Probably, Mom," I sigh, trying to focus on the clothes Mrs. Jeon just brought. "And Mom, don’t talk like that. She’s our neighbor."

"Even so! Y/N, that only happens when parents don’t know how to properly guide their children. How can a mother, who goes to church, let her son go down such a horrible path in life?"

"We don’t know how her son lives, and it’s none of our business, Mom!" I try to keep calm as I fold a large black T-shirt, but then I remember that before organizing the items, we have to wash them, and I couldn’t be happier about that.

Usually, the clothes are washed at our house, and my mother still has to stay at the bazaar for a while longer. Honestly, I don’t want to be around her listening to how good of a mother she was just because I go to church and don’t have a tattoo on my arm. It irritates me, and it’s hard not to let her notice, but for the sake of peace, I try my best, nodding and agreeing with all the nonsense she says.

"Mom, I’m going to take all these things home and get everything ready for the bazaar, okay?" I try to force a smile, but my face feels stiff. My head is throbbing, and I can’t wait to get home. I’ve been out of my room all day, and there’s nothing more exhausting than that, at least for me. She murmurs in agreement, probably annoyed that she can't keep talking badly about Mrs. Jeon’s son, but I don’t care and just leave.

I regret it a little halfway home because the bags are heavy, and even though the distance isn’t long, it’s hard to carry all the clothes by myself. I arrive home out of breath. The sky is overcast, with dark gray clouds covering it, but I’m sweating as if I just ran a marathon. I laugh a bit at my lack of fitness, promising myself that I’ll start the morning walks I keep putting off, and I head to the laundry room to start organizing the clothes.

When I open the bag, I’m surprised by the items. Not only are they of good quality, but I’m also certain they don’t belong to Mr. Jeon. He dresses well, but not in this style. I can hardly imagine him wearing black jeans or a heavy jacket. I’m intrigued by who the owner might be, but I don’t waste time pondering it, too tired to unravel mysteries that aren’t even important. I leave the laundry room once everything is organized and head to my room, throwing myself onto the bed.

My room isn’t particularly special or different, but what I love the most about it is the bookshelf filled with books covering almost the entire wall. It was my dream from a young age to get a job and buy every book I was interested in, and luckily, that’s been possible since I started working at the library. It’s the perfect job for me, even if it’s temporary. I’m studying literature to become a teacher, and I can’t wait to start working in my dream job.

I sigh and pull my phone out of my dress pocket, too lazy to take off my clothes and go shower. I groan, placing my hands over my face, knowing there’s no escaping it after being out of the house all day. There’s no way I’m going to bed like this. Reluctantly, I get up and untie my hair, which falls in waves, heavy against my neck.

I bend down to grab the hem of my dress and start pulling it up, feeling even more tired. Today was such a long day. I can’t wait to go to bed and sleep until tomorrow. I take off my socks, lifting one foot behind the other, and as I head to the towel inside the wardrobe next to the bed, I unhook the bra that’s been bothering me all day. The relief is so immense that I let out a sigh, touching my breasts with my fingers and playing with my nipple, hardened by the cold air.

On my way to the bathroom, I stop and look at the window when I notice that the neighbor’s window—the one that had never been opened until now—is, in fact, wide open. I need a few seconds to realize that there’s someone on Mrs. Jeon’s balcony, and worse, it’s not her on the other side. It’s a man. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life.

I hide behind the bookshelf in my room, afraid that he might think I’m spying on him, but for some reason, I keep watching him with curiosity, hypnotized by the way he moves around the room and among the furniture. His dark, wavy hair falls over his face when, out of nowhere, he starts pulling his shirt over his back, taking it off lazily while focusing on the phone in his hands. He gives a small smile, almost as if he subconsciously knows the effect he’s having on me. My heart beats hard against my chest, and my breathing quickens; my mind fills with fantasy images of his pink lips and large, seemingly soft hands.

He is... gorgeous. Different. With tattoos all over his body. One of his arms is completely covered in designs, and his chest is adorned with images that I can’t quite make out. My mouth waters as my eyes roam over his strong back and shoulders. His pale skin glows under the dim light of the yellow lamp, and it’s hard to catch my breath. It’s like observing a work of art. A forbidden work of art, I know. It’s wrong. But I can’t convince my mind that I should stop. The man, still a stranger, smiles at his phone as the screen lights up his face. Unlike his body, which exudes sensuality and is intimidating, his smile is sweet and gentle, and the most charming I’ve ever seen. He tosses the phone onto the bed, unbuckling the leather belt around his waist and deftly undoing the buttons of his jeans. That’s when the trance that literally had me delirious breaks. I slam the window shut, desperate at my own madness.

What was I doing? How could I have seen a stranger stripping like a complete pervert? I feel so bad, guilty for having crossed the line and done something as wrong as this. I gulp, covering my face with my hands. I let out a tortured sigh and feel my heart racing uncontrollably. I am sweating, as if I had done a heavy workout, when in fact, I had been standing still the entire time. I peek through the gaps in my window to see the room in Mr. Jeon's house, but I can't see anything anymore and I don't have the courage to open the curtains and try to look at the man again.

It's the first time in many years that I have felt something like this. Could it be desire? I can't remember the last time I felt anything like this. I recall having a small and first crush on a boy at school, something innocent, when I didn't even know what it meant to like someone romantically or as a friend. This was, throughout my life, the only consistent experience in recent years. It scares me that suddenly I feel something different for someone, even if it's minimal. I let out a sigh and cover my face, embarrassed by my own behavior. To make things worse, I'm not even wearing clothes. I rush to the bathroom and close the door, staring at myself in the mirror. I am so dazed that even my cheeks are dark red. I close my eyes tightly and head to the shower, trying to let the water wash away my thoughts. It doesn't work. I spend the whole night gazing at my bedroom window, full of images that I can't forget or erase.

I have a normal day after the almost exhausting night. I study in the morning about different approaches with children on the autism spectrum, which I find completely interesting and complex, and then I work in the afternoon at the college library on campus. This is actually great because I can study even during my work hours with free access to all available books, which has saved my life in recent months. The first semester of classes was tough, but this second one has been terrible, with piled-up assignments and deadlines that are almost impossible to meet, at best. My life has revolved around this routine, and the ordeal of exams hasn't even started. On my way home, I stop at a convenience store to buy something to eat and bike towards my house, which, honestly, isn’t very far but is extremely tiring.

I get home exhausted, collapsing on the sofa almost immediately. My mother appears from the kitchen with a serious face and a tense expression, as if something very grave had happened.

"You won't believe who invited us to dinner." she comments, placing one hand on her hip.

"Who?" I ask, just out of courtesy. Besides not being hungry, I'm not interested in the subject, too stressed with college stuff to pay attention to my mother.

"Misuk."

"And what's the problem, Mom?" I roll my eyes. Until yesterday, my mother had no problem with our neighbor, and now she acts like the woman is forbidden or not good enough to be her friend.

"Did you forget, YN?" she asks, crossing her arms. "Her son, the one from Seoul, will be at the dinner."

I turn pale, my mouth dry. How could I have forgotten this? College has consumed all my thoughts during the day, but I would never forget that man. The man I saw through the window is Mrs. Jeon's son, I suppose. I concluded this after spending the whole night mulling over my thoughts and reliving that body and face, which I can’t even recall without blushing. I’ve already eaten at college and feel satisfied, but the first thing I do when my mother mentions the dinner is smile.

"I’ll go with you." I affirm, unsure. If my heart raced so much from a distance of Mr. Jeon's son, I can't imagine what will happen if I see him up close. But I'm so curious that I can't avoid it. I want to see him. I want to prove that everything I felt last night wasn’t just a product of my imagination tainted by romance novels.

"The truth is, I wanted to cancel the dinner."

"You didn't cancel, did you?" I ask, trying not to sound too desperate. My mother shakes her head, which makes me sigh with relief.

"No, but I'm curious about the guy. I want to see what he's like and make a better judgment about him. I just ask that you don’t get involved with that kind of person. He’s a tattoo artist and lives alone, so young. Who knows what he does alone in a city like Seoul." she says, and I agree with a noise in my throat.

I’m also curious about him, Mom, but not for the same reason as you. I stay silent as I go upstairs to my room. I look for some slightly nicer clothes without much expectation but I don’t have anything different from conservative or old. I feel sad for no reason and convince myself that it doesn’t matter what I choose to wear; a man like the one I saw last night will never be interested in me, no matter what I put on. I quickly shower, then, after my mom calls me from downstairs, I look at myself in the mirror, staring at the dark blue dress that goes down to just below my knees. I roll my eyes and simply go, with little enthusiasm.

My mom has a bowl with a freshly baked cake, and after saying it's for the neighbors, we head out. It’s the house next door, but the short walk feels like an eternity to me. My heart races as we approach, and I let my mom lead the way, walking ahead. She knocks on the door with three taps, and we don’t wait long before Mr. Jeon appears. He’s a man in his fifties, but very handsome and friendly, wearing a long-sleeve shirt and comfortable house slippers. He smiles at both of us, still holding the doorknob and giving us space to enter.

"Good evening, Eunji, good evening, Y/N." he greets us. I nod, a little embarrassed. Unlike Mrs. Jeon, I don’t see him often, as he is very busy with work and doesn’t attend church regularly.

"Good evening, Yejun."

"Good evening, Mr. Jeon. Thank you for having us." I smile, genuinely grateful. I truly like the couple, as every time I see them, they always treat me very well.

"What a polite girl, isn’t she?" he says to my mother in a joking tone, then looks at me kindly. "You don’t need to thank us. We love having you two here. Please come in and make yourselves comfortable."

"I brought a cake for after dinner." my mom says with a smile. "Where is Misuk? I want to give it to her."

"She’s in the kitchen, finishing organizing things. Shall we go there?"

I follow them in silence, having little to do. My mom is more accustomed to the environment, as she comes here a few times for church meetings. I take a few steps toward the kitchen when a noise on the stairs catches my attention. Then he appears, and like magic, everything I felt before resurges, ten thousand times worse. I catch my breath as I see him slowly descending the stairs. He is much taller than me and different from what I imagined, now up close.

His eyes are dark, bright and large, which strangely complements his sharp jawline. His lips are a beautiful pink that makes me run my tongue over my mouth, enchanted by their apparent softness. Pink is now my favorite color. He exudes a powerful aura with his heavy clothes and his body built like a big mountain towering over me, but when he smiles, I am captivated. His smile is sweet, friendly, and inviting, making me want to get closer. However, the thing that catches my attention the most is the eyebrow piercing. My God. What a man.

"Hello, how are you?" he says with a boyish smile, and I blush instantly. I try to maintain a mantra in my mind, repeating several times: calm down, calm down, calm down! "My name is Jungkook, are you my mother’s neighbor?"

"Y-yes." I stammer and almost instinctively close my eyes, frustrated with myself. He smiles even more, squinting his dark eyes as if he finds me amusing.

"Nice to meet you. What’s your name?" he asks with a soft voice, and I feel embarrassed for not having said my name earlier.

"My name is Y/N. Nice to meet you." This time I don’t stammer, but I speak so quietly that I fear he might not have heard me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. My mom talks a lot about you." he says, confirming that yes, he did hear me.

I open my mouth to try to say something, but suddenly my mother appears. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. I wanted more chances to talk and discover new things about him, but all I was managing to do was look like an idiot who hasn’t left the house in years, completely antisocial. My shoulders slump, and I follow my mother to the dining room in silence, feeling embarrassed. I can almost feel Jungkook’s presence behind me, but I don’t have the courage to turn around and glimpse his expression. I almost automatically remember him taking off his clothes, showing the tattoos that are now hidden, and I flush even more, almost choking on my own saliva.

"Good evening, Y/N!" Mrs. Jeon smiles at me, already seated at the table. I feel guilty for almost drooling over her son earlier but I smile, greeting her in the same way.

"Good evening, Mrs. Jeon. The smell of the food is delicious, as always." I say, seeing the vegetables on the table and the meat next to it that looks divine. If I hadn’t eaten earlier, I’d be attacking the food, with respect, of course.

"Always so sweet, Y/N." she smiles. "Please, have a seat. Jungkook, sit next to her." she requests. I try to not choke again, just nodding, watching the man I am incredibly attracted to sit to my right side.

His parents and my mom engage in a lively conversation, and I try to pay attention in case they ask me something, but the truth is, I can’t follow along at all. Jungkook eats in silence and occasionally answers my mother’s questions, which I’m sure are meant to gather more material for judgment when we get home, but I can’t follow any of the reasoning. Besides being handsome, polite and kind, he also smells good.

With the clothes he wears and the tattoos decorating his body, I would swear his perfume would be woody and strong, but it’s quite the opposite. His scent reminds me of spring, or nature like a field full of flowers. It’s a scent I could absorb all day. Lost in thought while I play with the fork on my plate and the cabbage kimchi I served myself, I don’t notice him coming closer to me and my ear. My whole body shivers with his breath. I try to not make it too obvious, but I think it’s in vain since I hear his soft laugh even closer to my neck.

"Do you want to go to the kitchen, Y/N?" Jungkook asks in a whisper so close that I look around just to make sure no one is watching, especially my mother, who seems to have already formed a prejudiced opinion about him.

"Why?" I ask in a whisper, confused.

"I want to ask you something." he smiles crookedly, which makes me even more disturbed. I nod, still unsure about what I’m agreeing to. He quickly stands up, and I almost instantly follow him. When we get to the kitchen, he turns around quickly, watching me attentively, crossing his arms over his chest.

"W-what do you want to ask me?" I swallow nervously.

"I was thinking whether I should talk to you about this, but after meeting you tonight, I think it’s for the best, anyway." he says with a serious face. His previously relaxed attitude changes completely, as if all the fun from earlier had drained away.

I become worried, my mind filled with questions, until something occurs to me. What if last night, somehow, he realized I was watching him? My body turns to jelly at the thought, and my heart beats faster as I look at his face. I would die, seriously. I would fall to the ground and never wake up again. My hands tremble as I wait for his question.

"Are you and my mother very close?" he asks in a whisper, this time with a weak voice, looking at his own intertwined hands. I nod in agreement, even more confused. Since Mrs. Jeon moved to my city, we’ve become something like friends, despite the significant age difference. I consider her, even if mistakenly, like a mother.

"Yes. I think we have a close relationship. Why the question?" he shifts uncomfortably. He tries to smile but can’t. I am worried but silent, waiting for his answer.

"My mother is sick, Y/N." he says quietly, with a weak voice. My eyes widen at the news. I never imagined this is what he wanted to talk to me about. From his seriousness, it seems to be something very grave. "That’s why I came to the city. She had depression years ago and last month she tried to take her own life for some reason."

"She didn’t tell anyone, I’m sure." I say as much as I can, still shaken and shocked. Mrs. Jeon seems so happy lately that I could never imagine something like this. My eyes fill with tears, but I try to contain the flood of emotions inside me, embarrassed to act this way with a previously unknown person.

"I know. I was shocked when I found out." he explains, running his fingers through his dark hair as if he were tired. "She wants to spare people from the situation, but I wish everyone could know and support her. She shouldn’t be thinking about anyone’s well-being right now, except her own. That’s why I came to Busan, to take care of her."

"I understand." I whisper with a lump in my throat. I want to take his trembling hands and assure him that everything will be okay, but I don’t have that much courage. I wish I were casual and authentic and had the ease to simply say what I’m thinking. It’s the first time that not being this way makes me upset and sad. I wish I could be someone else right now. I wish I could help more.

"I apologize for bringing this up so suddenly. I hope I haven’t ruined your evening. I’m sorry." he smiles awkwardly, puffing his cheeks, and a previously hidden dimple appears. His face turns red and I can’t help but like him even more.

"Don’t worry. Really. Thank you for telling me the truth. I want to help in any way I can. I'll try to keep her company more often."

"Thank you so much, Y/N." he smiles, with his eyes shining. "I knew it was a good idea to tell you the truth. I knew I could count on you."

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[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Just A Girl

Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Synopsis: Y/N starts getting into interests other than hunting, but what happens when her brothers find out?

Author's Note: another Supernatural fic? Yup, my hyperfixation knows no bounds. Enjoy!

You were a daddy’s girl through-and-through. No question. Without a doubt.

Not that you had much choice in the matter. Your mother had died before you had even gotten the chance to form good memories of her, and your father, John Winchester, had taken you in as soon as he heard the news. So, that’s how you had grown up, looking up to your father and two big brothers. Needless to say, there was very little feminine influence in your life.

For the first many years, you had been fine with that. Overjoyed, even. You took on the role of tomboy with great ease, and you devoted all your energy to making the men in your life proud. You studied with Sam, trained with Dean, and compiled monster-killing information with John. 

But things didn’t–couldn’t–remain the same. The older you got, the harder you found it to relate to your brothers. Of course, you still enjoyed your training and the occasional hunt–they only allowed you to go on the “safest” ones–but you found yourself pulling away from your family more and more mentally, although you wouldn’t allow your inner-alienation to show to your brothers. You didn’t have to worry about hiding it from your father, since he was barely around. 

When Sam left for college, things only got worse. Dean doubled-down on your training, convinced that now that Sam was gone, you needed to be able to fend for yourself. If he needed backup on a hunt, he couldn’t turn to Sam anymore. You didn’t mind the work, but the long hours of training and the few hours of anything else was beginning to wear on you, both physically and mentally. The older you got, the more you felt like you needed your own space, to explore your own interests. You couldn’t tell that to Dean, though, not after he lost Sam to his own interests. 

Your hesitance about training wasn’t the only thing that was changing for you. You were also beginning to notice how emotionally distant your family was. It hadn’t affected you as much as a little girl, because when you were little, displays of affection from the men who raised you had been more common. But now that you were older, they seemed to think that you had outgrown such things. You could tell that you were being expected to “grow up”, maybe even “man up”, something you most certainly could not do.

But it was more than that. When you were little, all you ever wanted was to be like your family. You wanted to be strong like dad, protective like Dean, and smart like Sam. But you couldn’t do that anymore. You couldn’t look up to them like heroes, because you had long outgrown that notion. Of course, you still looked up to them in some aspects, but it was different now. Dad was always gone, Dean wouldn’t know how to deal with feelings if they danced around blowing trumpets in front of him, and Sam…well, Sam had left. Not that you blamed him, of course, he had his own life that he wanted to live. But it was hard to look up to something that you never saw.

All that to say, this wasn’t exactly an ideal environment for a teenage girl. You were far too reserved to take out your feelings the way the rest of the men did–bottling them up and then letting them out by screaming at each other. You had times when you wanted to, of course–you had been disagreeing with them, especially John, more and more as you got older–but you found yourself more and more afraid of conflict as you matured. Before Sam had left, he and dad had been yelling at each other almost constantly, and it was pure torture on your anxiety. You hated raised voices, you hated hurt feelings, you hated conflict of any kind really. Your brothers and father never backed down from a fight, be it physical or familial, but you couldn’t do that. You found yourself walking on eggshells, making sure not to even say–much less yell–anything that would set off an argument.

You were stuck at a sort of impasse–your desperate desire to please your family versus your personal inclinations to just be yourself. 

The only solution you had was to try and live both worlds; you trained with Dean whenever duty called, but afterwards you would retreat to your room, letting him work on whatever hunt he was preoccupied with, and you explored your own world.

You got into books, some tv shows the men in your life wouldn’t be caught dead watching (and would certainly make fun of you for watching), you tried out makeup and let your hair grow longer (you had always cut it short to keep it out of the way during training or hunting). You found that the more “feminine” things that you would’ve scoffed at a few years ago were suddenly looking much more interesting. You used one of those scammed credit cards Dean gave you to buy some ballet shoes, which you hid in your duffel under all your other belongings unless Dean and dad were on a hunt, at which time you would pull them out and teach yourself using some books you’d found. 

It took you a long time to get over your embarrassment at wanting to try “girly” things out, but once you did you never looked back. You still played the part that dad and Dean expected, the young tomboy following in the men’s footsteps, but when you were alone, you didn’t see any harm in trying out some hobbies that felt more like you.

Like right now, for example. Dad was missing, Sam was finally back, and he and Dean were off hunting some monster. You enjoyed your isolation by first finishing off a tv show that they would’ve hated, then by reading some more of a new book you had gotten that they would’ve scoffed at. After that, it was time to pull out the ballet shoes and practice that new move that you couldn’t quite perfect. 

You were so concentrated on figuring out the move, that you hadn’t noticed that you’d been practicing for hours, or that it was getting dark outside. You were also so intent on the music that you’d downloaded to go along with your dancing, that you didn’t hear the Impala pull up to the front of the motel room. In fact, you were so engrossed, that you completed the entire move–perfect for the first time!--and you were jumping around in excitement when you finally saw them. Your brothers. Standing at the door, mouths dropped open in shock, confusion contorting their features.

You froze on the spot, unable to move. You tried to speak, but no words would make it past your dry throat. You snatched up your phone and quickly killed the music, but there was no covering up the shoes you were wearing, and certainly no erasing the boys’ memory of what they’d seen. 

The three of you stood in silence for several moments, before Sam finally got the words–or perhaps the guts–to speak.

“What was that?”

You answer was immediate.

“Nothing.”

“What are those?” Dean was staring down at your pastel-pink ballet shoes, his mouth still hanging open–which would have been comical if your heart wasn’t pounding in your ears.

“Nothing, just-” your lip started to quiver, and you were so shocked and appalled by this that you bit it so hard, blood started to dribble down your chin. Winchesters did not cry. “Just forget about it.”

“Jeez, Y/N,” Sam exclaimed, snatching up a towel and wiping the blood off of your mouth. As soon as he was done, you pulled away and sat on your bed, removing your ballet shoes as quickly as possible and depositing them back in their spot–the bottom of your duffel. 

There was silence again for several seconds, but this time it was Dean who broke it.

“So…we’re not gonna talk about that?”

“Talk about what?” you muttered, your eyes downcast as you shifted on your feet.

Both brothers scoffed in unison.

“C’mon Y/N,” Sam insisted, putting his giant hand on your shoulder, “why didn’t you tell us you were into ballet?”

“And pretty darn good at it too,” Dean chimed in, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. 

You stared at them, confused.

“You’re not…mad?”

“Mad?” Dean frowned, “I don’t know why you think we’re mad, I’m just confused. I mean you never seemed into…this kinda thing.”

“I…wasn’t,” you picked at your fingers, trying to find ways to ease the awkwardness of the conversation. “But lately…I don’t know, I just wanted to try it out.”

“Dancing?”

“Not just ballet, I guess. Just…girl stuff,” you looked up, trying to gauge your brothers’ reactions. 

Sam just shrugged, “Ok.”

You were shocked.

“Ok? Just, ok?”

Dean smirked, “You may be a bit of a tomboy, but we haven’t forgotten that you’re a girl, baby.”

"Yeah, but," you sighed, "you don't think this stuff is stupid?"

"Well, you're not exactly gonna find me in those shoes," Dean shrugged, "But you do you, kid."

A relieved smile broke out on your face.

“You’re seriously ok with this?” Dean laughed, “Tell you what. I’ll be one hundred percent ok with this, on three conditions.

Both you and Sam frowned.

“What are they?” you questioned.

“Ok, one: never ask me to watch a chick flick with you.”

You giggled, relieved, “Ok.”

“Two: never play Taylor Swift in Baby. Never. I don’t care if I'm dead, that does not happen, understand?”

You giggled harder, “Ok, ok.”

Dean was frowning now, “Hey now, no giggling, I’m serious!” he snatched you up and threw you onto his bed, leaning over you and poking your sides, “This is a very serious conversation N/N, and I-” Dean dodged your desperate attempt to kick him away, smirking as you squealed under his ticklish assault. “Hey, that wasn’t nice. I can’t have this serious conversation with you giggling like that!” He poked at your ribs, laughing as you struggled.

“Wha-hat’s number three-hee?” you squealed, still trying and failing to get away from him.

“Oh yeah!” Dean suddenly pulled his hands away, once again regaining his serious composure. “I want front row tickets when you’re on Dancing with the Stars.”

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm, “Dean, it’s just a hobby, I’m not gonna get famous for it.” “Hey now, you don’t know that, anything is possible. Now do we have a deal or not?”

You giggled, sitting up and wrapping your arms around your big brother.

“Deal.”

[batsplat]

hello i saw in your tags that you don't think people on here get casey stoner and as someone relatively new into the sport i would love to hear your thoughts <3

(context here) okay first of all, this post will be framed as ‘things I wish people talked about more with regards to casey stoner’, rather than arguing against what I think people think

I've tried to come up with a concise response to this ask but kept heading into thesis-length territory. so I decided to write a bullet point list and it’s still… yeah… but well it could be worse. if you, dear anon, wish to read thousands of words of casey stoner lore then please let me know. otherwise, here are just a few things I find interesting about this bloke:

casey has a very complex relationship with the concept of confidence, both in other riders and himself, in the sense that he KNOWS how important it is but also believes/wishes that he specifically is kinda above all that

this feeds into how he wishes that racing were Just Racing and not all this other stuff… not his brain not his body not other racers being assholes on/off track not talking to journalists or doing photoshoots not having to deal with politics etc etc - central underlying tension of his career

he has openly spoken about not ever really enjoying race day, saying the only thing he's missed after retiring is qualifying. very perfectionist, the anxiety, the over-thinking, craving control… all key casey traits

(which also ties in with the valentino rivalry, because valentino obviously adores racing (in particular wheel-to-wheel battle) but he’s also great at all that other off-track stuff)

some very rigid ideas of How The Sport Should Look, which you can see in everything from how he talks about racing standards to the introduction of CRT riders (he had it OUT for them, head hot every time aleix espargaro shows up in parc fermé) to valentino’s influence on ducati and the importance of the colour red

let him have his mean streak! the grim satisfaction in discussing jorge’s 2008 injuries after his early-season arrogance towards casey, the dismissiveness towards dani, some of the wilder valentino remarks (this isn’t a criticism to be clear, alien-on-alien violence is part of the natural order of things)

casey is a classic case of ‘just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they aren’t after you’. definitely a suspicious guy and perpetual underdog 'me against the world' mindset. not to get too psychoanalytic-y, but I reckon this was partly born out of how he had to leave australia as a teenager (with his family completely dependent on him succeeding) because of how the racing establishment down under fucked him over

they definitely were out to get him a lot of the time, cf yamaha and then ducati drama plus the slander from some of the greats of the sport, fellow riders, the media etc etc (particularly egregious in 2009 when he was dealing with his mystery illness and a lot of people said some pretty unpleasant stuff in his absence - here is just one example)

his struggles were constantly downplayed. the chronic fatigue misdiagnosed as lactose intolerance led to people calling him weak-minded, broken, running away from the sport (part of why he was so allergic to the idea his results might in any way be connected to what was going on in his head). add in the undiagnosed anxiety and you have all this invisible strife people wouldn't even take seriously

that being said, he definitely did have a propensity for jumping to the worst possible conclusions

two specific examples: firstly from his autobiography, where he makes the claim that valentino may have been sabotaged in the 2006 title decider and was deliberately given a rubbish tyre to make him lose the championship - to which casey’s response was: “welcome to my world, mate”. he does have a tendency to believe he’s being sabotaged, and is constantly on the look out for conspiracies even when they are… unlikely

the other example is mat oxley talking about his issues with casey in his stint working for ducati, partly based on a misunderstanding:

something allegedly written about him in 2001!

let’s just say he can definitely hold a grudge

the moaner stoner stuff was definitely nasty, calling him mopey and whiny and all of that, but he also has never shied away from some good old-fashioned complaining (some of this was a bit of a spiral - complaining for good reason worsening public perception of him leading to more reasons to complain)

see also the lingering marc grudge, who probably did play a significant part in getting casey kicked out of honda (as casey has accused him of). whether marquez prevented stoner from racing in 2015 is more of an open question. casey still speaks about how honda made a mistake by only listening to marc (which, again, does have some truth to it)

casey was always very quick to shut down the idea that momentum, motivation, confidence etc could affect his results (unlike that of his competitors) because he argues he was always very rational & clear-sighted about when things were his fault & when things could be blamed on the bike + extraneous factors. he really goes into detail about this when discussing 2008 laguna seca in his autobiography, which he argues had no effect on him psychologically (but was followed by him crashing out of the lead of the next two races)

has definitely spoken more about his rivalry with valentino than valentino has, which probably has also helped shape perception of it over time

on ‘ambition outweighed talent’ - I feel like people almost understate just what a (hilariously) out of pocket remark it was in context. it was rossi’s second ever race at ducati (and the start of his season was impacted by his shoulder issues) - and the rain meant he had a ~win it or bin it~ approach because he knew it was as good a chance as he might get for some time (despite starting from 12th). the move on stoner for second place was at best optimistic, most definitely impatient and at worst foolish - but sort of understandable in that situation, rossi was definitely rapid, and this stuff can happen in the wet. in that sense, it was obviously more a reaction to the manner of the apology (and his frustration with the stewards) than to what casey himself described as a racing incident

stoner made a remark in his autobiography about how rossi had stolen 25 points in a title battle he was never going to be a part of (oof). whether you're obligated to race title contenders differently is already a bit sketch but certainly should not be a consideration for anybody in round TWO

he was forced to publicly retract the remarks, though he doubled down on them to a deeply funny extent in his autobiography by suggesting they were true of valentino’s entire career and that he’d just benefited from a weak era. rossi mostly took it on the chin especially when interviewed about it for documentaries, probably because with something like that you do just need to take the L

it's understandable how it’s become such a defining image of their rivalry (along with laguna seca), not least because of how evocative the whole thing is - rossi showing up still wearing his helmet, trying to make a PR apology stick while he’s been eating nauseating amounts of humble pie at ducati; stoner casual as you like, pissed off about the points loss while still indulging in schadenfreude about how the Great Big Ducati Adventure is working out for rossi

but again, I think it’s funnier because of just HOW over the top an insult it was in that situation (and more broadly how it does have a different vibe to their interactions when they were meaningfully competing, aka 2007-2008)

in conclusion: casey has his doubts and his insecurities and his obsessions and his foibles… a complicated guy in his own right

and a big thing I’d like to stress here is that the rivalry with valentino does benefit from treating them both as somewhat unreliable narrators

I just think he's neat

[hollyoongs]

Hello everybody, this is your friendly girl Holly

So, beside Belift STILL giving the boys 44 more shows and celebrating two fucking years of nonstop "Fate Plus Tour," I came to speak about the current SK deepfake situation and also the case of that NCT member.

Let’s talk first about the deepfake situation. I’m beyond disgusted by this. The fact that SO MANY MINORS—whether they’re K-pop idols or just normal teenage girls—are being targeted by these vile deepfake pornographic videos is absolutely sickening. In South Korea, deepfake crimes are out of control, and it seems like every day we hear about another incident where someone’s face is digitally altered and placed in explicit content without their consent. Most of the victims are young women, and we can’t even begin to imagine the long-term emotional and psychological toll this is taking on them.

What makes it worse is that it’s not just random individuals being targeted; celebrities, influencers, and even regular high school girls are falling victim to this, which says a lot about how normalized and pervasive these crimes have become. The fact that these deepfakes are circulating on apps like Telegram, where anonymity protects the criminals, makes it even harder for authorities to stop the spread. Even though South Korea has started tightening its laws, it feels like too little, too late, because the damage is already done for so many people.

(I actually still can't believe that New Jeans, I'LLIT and more kpop idols which are minors, were in this bullshit)

Now, switching gears to the whole Moon Taeil situation... This one’s been heavy on my mind, too. We were all SHOCKED when SM Entertainment announced that Taeil had been removed from NCT because of a sexual crime investigation. Like, how does something like this happen without any of us knowing beforehand? It was already a blow when Taeil had to step back from the group due to his traffic accident last year, but no one was expecting this.

At first, there were rumors online that the crime involved minors, but the police eventually cleared that up, stating it didn’t involve minors or males. Still, the fact that this investigation is happening at all is alarming and upsetting. SM Entertainment hasn’t given too many details since it’s still ongoing.

It’s heartbreaking to see how something like this can change everything so fast, not just for him but for the entire group. NCTzens (the fanbase) are understandably torn—this is a tough situation to process.

My heart goes out to all the victims of deepfake crimes in South Korea, as well as to Moon Taeil’s victim. This is absolutely horrifying, and I still can’t fully wrap my head around how such malicious technology is being used to violate the privacy and dignity of innocent people. No one should ever have to experience this kind of violation, and the impact on both mental and emotional well-being is unimaginable. It’s heartbreaking to see how easily these deepfakes can ruin lives, and we need stronger awareness, advocacy, and legal actions to protect those affected. To everyone suffering from this, you are seen, and we stand with you in solidarity.

Tagging moots (sorry in advance): @intromortal @glitterjay @kwiwin @karinasbaby @dollyyun @alvojake @ja3yun @yzzyhee @yeonzzzn @taeghi @loserlvrss @serejae @kissofhoon @hxxsxxng @hvseung @heeslomll

[m3nt4llyr4v3d]

Felix v Chloe

Lemme just say, I hate the way Felix is treated in the show and the fandom compared to Chloe

Somehow, someway, the characters can forgive Felix and even have him on the team at the end (?????), and all of his actions are completely absolved due to his backstory: “Oh he was just doing all that for his survival! He was just an awkward quirky guy with no social cues all along!”

But Chloe’s backstory even being brought up for an explanation is immediately shut down, it doesn’t excuse a single thing she’s done! Hell, it doesn’t even explain why she’s the way she is because Mylene has an absent mother and she turned out fine! Doesn’t matter that Mylene had a father that actually taught her how to act and didn’t just buy her love with constant gifts and abuses of power, there’s just no excuse!

Both act in their own self interest, turning to the villain to get something they want, but nonono, Felix, without apologizing once mind you, is redeemed and forgiven while Chloe gets sent off to NY with her mother! Everyone wins!

Not to mention Felix did arguably worse than Chloe

Felix was the one who actively made Hawkmoth more powerful by giving him the miraculous (not to mention giving HM the ring) while with Chloe, Hawkmoth got the miraculous on his own and she was just along for the ride basically. Then Felix came back and snapped away everyone. Chloe sent everyone away when she was akumatized as well, but at least we could see where they went and there wasn’t any confusion as to whether they got snapped to some pocket dimension or straight up disappeared. Oh, and she was akumatized by Gabriel who was literally manipulating her along with Tomoe and Lila at the time??

I feel like any arguments for Felix about worrying for his or Adrien’s safety, any excuses, should’ve been thrown out the window in the season 4 finale. After that point he had full control over himself and gave up Adrien’s free will, and he still came back to snap everyone away! Now, I would absolutely be fine with this (cept the Adrien part) I mean trauma with humans isn’t going to go away just like that even when there’s no immediate risk anymore (unless you get a girlfriend apparently). My issue with that is how this same sentiment isn’t given to Chloe whatsoever, her lash outs aren’t given any thought beyond “oh she’s evil for the sake of it”, ignoring how the trauma of her mother leaving her and treating her like garbage would still affect her, and it drives me up the wall

Not to mention the show actively tries to pretend that the adults surrounding Chloe’s life don’t have any influence on her whatsoever, even though they obviously do and Tomoe and Gabriel literally set her up as a scapegoat in this season. Somehow her father isn’t responsible whatsoever for the way she was raised, her mother leaving apparently didn’t even affect her behavior because we’re genuinely supposed to believe this teenager is just an evil person. Somehow the storyline of her being set up as a scapegoat by two grown ass adults is literally ignored by the narrative including some of the fans

Oh but Felix gets all the sympathy regardless of what he did

Right.

I wouldn’t hate Felix or his character direction so much if it wasn’t a direct slap to the face for Chloe, not to mention giving the Chloe stans fuel! I mean, it literally proved their point that Chloe deserved a redemption because full grown adults who’ve done worse and a guy who’s done nearly the same shit as her are forgiven and “redeemed”, ridiculous (I say that a lot huh)

[stellocchia]

I've been thinking about Color's chat a bit more (they're forever called that in my mind) and I've come up with just... a bunch of headcanons. None of these have any basis in the canon of Othertale aside from the fact that Patience is Color's favorite and what the consequences of that may be. Considering the fact that these are souls of dead children, keep in mind there's a mild cw for child death mention.

Integrity:

He's the oldest of the bunch (it takes a while for kids to develop integrity, so, yeah). He was probably already a teenager when he died (imagine 16-17 age range)

He's very often the only one having any common sense in the group. And that is counting Color

He speaks up relatively often but is in no way the most chatty of the group

He is closest to Kindness who he views as a sort of annoying little sister (affectionate)

If I remember correctly, in canon Undertale the items connected to the integrity trait are a tutu and ballet shoes. So the shoes stay the same, but I say you find a fancy sparkly unitard in Waterfall instead from him

He has some very vague memories of his life, mostly of what pushed him up Mount Ebott and then of his death. Like all the others, he does not remember his name

He and Color have a pretty positive relationship, though on certain occasions Integrity does get frustrated with what he perceives as Color's complacency and his overly trusting nature

Perseverance:

She's the second-oldest, being around 15 when she died

She's a nerd but in the "evil scientist" kinda way (she's not really evil, but she has fun roleplaying that kinda stuff). She is the holder of the braincell, except it's rarely gonna used in a productive way

She speaks rarely, and almost exclusively to come up with some convoluted plan that would most likely end up making the problem at hand worse. She just really wants to watch the world burn sometimes and would probably get along great with Killer

She is closest to Bravery, as they have a sort of evil mastermind and her henchman kinda dynamic. She's also rather friendly with Justice, to everyone's surprise

The items you find for her are the classic Torn Notebook and a pair of glasses. Except, instead of being cloudy, they are missing the lenses. That's because she could see just fine, but she liked the aesthetic

She has a lot of memories of her old life, but never speaks about them with the others. Color sometimes wonders if she actually remembers her name, but doesn't want the others to feel inadequate and doesn't use it because of that

Her relationship with Color is chaotic. To Color, it often feels like having a younger Killer stuck in his brain. Except usually less stab-happy

Justice:

They were 14 when they died

They're an extremely bright and energetic kid. And they have the strongest moral compass in the group. They still entertain Perseverance and Bravery's antics rather often because they know those two can't exactly harm anyone. At times they can get a bit preachy about their beliefs, but someday here has gotta have a moral backbone...

They're average on the speaking front. Not too much, not too little. Yet always with conviction to the point that it's hard to tell when they're joking

As mentioned, they're closest to Perseverance, but do get along great with Patience, Kindness, and Integrity on certain topics

The items you find for them are a cowboy hat and an empty gun. They claim the gun was used "For chuckin' not shootin'"

The only memory of their past life they have is that of their death in the Underground. Everything else is just vague feelings of unease about certain things

They get along great with Color whenever they're not going along with Perseverance and Bravery's antics. Their morals align rather closely. Nightmare has in the past taunted Color, saying he clearly only believes what he does because of the Justice soul. But, truthfully, they found themselves in agreement from the get-go, way before Justice had a chance to influence him

Bravery:

He also died at 14 like Justice

He's the punch first, ask questions later type. Very reckless, often obnoxiously loud. He is down with violence in theory, though he gets squeamish when they actually witness any. He's very much all bite and no bark

He speaks the most out of anyone in the group. He's far more talkative than Color as well. At times even drowning out his thoughts with his incessant chatter

He's closest to Perseverance. He really likes any Undyne because of this, they remind him of Perseverance. Also, he thinks Integrity is kinda lame but in a "Cringy Big Brother I'm still running to if I get in trouble" way

The items you find for him are a Tough Glove and a Manly Bandanna. He remembers that they were from some character he liked in life, but doesn't remember which one

He has quite a few memories from his life before Mount Ebott, but none from after his fall. Doesn't remember how he died either. And he doesn't know why he ended up scaling the mountain since he remembers only all the happy memories he had

He's a chaotic little shit and Color is a very tired single mom. That's their relationship

Patience:

Patience was a pre-teen (around 11-12yo) when he died

They are a very calm individual, oftentimes fading into the background and just letting the world pass them by. They're against any form of violence and only entertain the idea for jokes when they're certain it's not gonna hurt anyone. They're also endlessly trusting and willing to give anyone one more chance if they show an interest in changing

He speaks the least in the group. Though his calm presence is always felt regardless, mostly as a vibe

They're not especially close to any of the other souls, though they do get along the best with Kindness as she tends to be a very positive person

The items you find for him are a faded ribbon and a toy knife. He mentioned once that the fake knife was just sharp enough to get rid of the ribbon, but not of his hair

They remember very well why they climbed up the mountain. They only talked about their parents not being accepting, and them giving up on trying to make them understand after a few years. They regret giving up on them now, saying perhaps in time... they also remember their time in the Ruins in its entirety and have very fond memories of Toriel. Their death was supposedly a tragic accident, but it's never entirely clear if they're sincere when they say that

He's the closest with Color even if they don't talk much. He often helps keep their host calm under stress, and also encourages him to be understanding of others at any opportunity he gets. Color appreciates them greatly, though, at times, he does acknowledge that their help can backfire

Kindness:

She's by far the youngest of the bunch, being only between 8-10 when she passed away

She's a very happy-go-lucky kid. Very empathetic, very energetic, and a big food lover. She's very affectionate too and generally believes that anything can be fixed with a hug and a good meal. She is a bit naive, but also, well, she is a really young child

She speaks an average amount. Usually when Integrity is also involved in the conversation as he makes her feel more confident

She's closest to Integrity. That's her big brother and nobody can convince her otherwise. However, she gets along with literally everyone in the group. This can become an issue when Bravery drags her into his shenanigans because their energy just keeps building on each other

The items you can find for her are a Burnt Pan and a Stained Apron. Those were both gifts from Toriel. And, apparently, the pan got burned during a cooking lesson from Heats Flamesman (nobody else there has a single clue of who that is, Color included)

She remembers nothing of her life before the fall, and she only remembers the good things that happened in the Underground, and the nice monsters she talked with. She has a lot of fond memories of Toriel, of the Innkeeper at the Snowed Inn, of this Heats Flamesman guy, and so on. Her journey was very different and far longer than that of the others as she kept spending time with and befriending all the monsters who weren't immediately hostile to her

Much like with Bravery, Color is kind of a parental figure for her. They're pretty close, and they have similar attitudes about life, so it's often uncomplicated

-

@howlsofbloodhounds ('cause I know you mentioned wanting to see these)

[loveandmurders]

hi hope you are having a nice day , i have a tiny request michael myers from rob zombie film x female s/o that used date Michael before he kill his family and when he escape from smith groove he found that the reader was a single mother ?:0

Hello darling! It's been a while you requested this and I'm sorry about that! I really hope you'll enjoy <3

I slightly changed the request as baby Michael and reader weren't dating yet.

I kept the gender of reader's child neutral and they are unnamed.

Female reader with no physical description.

Warnings: mentions of murders, mentions of a bad relationship witht the father of your child, a few strong words, mentions of poverty and unhappy life, mentions of Michael's anger and lack of empathy/feelings, mention of Michael as an abused child, stalking, breaking in

Michael perfectly remembered you, despite all those years apart from one another. With his baby sister and his mother, you were the person he loved the most. You were his best friend, and he knew that deep down, one day his affection would turn into more than friendship. But he snapped and killed his family and was sent away from you before you two, kids, could become teenagers and fall in love with each other.

Despite your strong bond, you never thought he would kill his family, even if you knew what he did to his bully. But you were an innocent kid who just loved him and enjoyed creating universes together, so you could both pretend that everything was perfect. 

Despite how much you loved him and how many times you asked his mother to take you with her for one of her visits to the asylum, Dr Loomis never allowed you inside the place. He was worried for you and he told your parents it was better if you stayed away from such a dangerous child. He wasn’t certain what kind of influence Michael had on you, but the truth was you were both bringing the best in each other. He was calmer and happier with you around, and you felt braver and more creative with him. You were certain that if his sister and father had let Michael celebrate Halloween with you, none of this would have happened. At least, it was what  you were telling yourself. And once he was locked away, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking how wrong it was to keep a child away from the people he loved; you knew Michaell truly needed your presence, even more once he lost his mother and found himself all alone.

Several times, you tried to come and see him as you grew up, because you weren’t the kind of person to let go so easily. And no matter what your parents could tell you about this “monster”, Michael was still someone you loved, and you were loyal to. All the guards at the asylum knew you but Dr. Loomis always found good excuses to keep you away.

A part of yourself knew your life would have been different if Michael had been by your side. For instance, you would have known better than hooking up with some shitty guy and then staying with him because you got pregnant. And abortion wasn’t an option back then. 

You really loved your child though, you did, but you hated the life you had. It got even worse when your partner left you. You needed to work a lot because you didn’t have enough money for both your child and yourself, and your ex refused to give you anything. He just disappeared, probably having sex with other girls and not caring about anything. You liked to imagine how Michael would have killed him if he had been around. You were a little bit ashamed of those fantasies so you always tried to push them away. And you were trying your best, no matter the situation, because you wanted your baby to have a good childhood, not like the one Michael had.

And no matter what, Michael was still in your mind, and you hated when people were using his story to get some cash. You thought he deserved respect and understanding. Everyone thought he was a murderer; and yes he was. But he also was a victim. He was abused as a child, he was bullied too, and then you couldn’t imagine what happened to him in the asylum. You were certain that the isolation didn’t help his sanity, and all the awful things they must have said to him when he needed care and affection… You hoped he was doing okay, and you hoped one day you would be able to see him again.

You didn’t know Michael was out of the asylum the day you pushed two shitty journalists from his house. You yelled at them that it wasn’t their home, that they should be better than using such an awful story to make money. You were so angry, so ready to fight that the two people left, crumbling to each other that everyone was clearly insane in this town. You promised yourself to come by the house often during Halloween so you could keep the children away from here too. Michael was a really sensitive subject to you.

You didn’t know that you actually saved the journalists because Michael listened to you from the basement. Something inside of him sparkled with life. He knew he hadn’t been forgotten or hated by you, and it was a nice warm feeling spreading across his chest. He was barely feeling anything anymore, just pure rage and bloodlust. But for the first time in a long time, he felt something positive. 

He knew it was you, because he recognised the way your voice was raising up when you were calling out someone for an injustice they were causing. You were the same, back then, when kids were throwing rocks at a cat. He barely smiled behind his mask, half wondering why you never came by at the asylum during all those years, even if he could imagine it was because of Loomis.

He waited for you to leave the property too, and then he started to follow you. He saw you at your work, not really understanding what you were doing, but he could tell you weren’t particularly enjoying yourself. A part of himself wondered where all your dreams went in the years. But just like his, they disappeared as you grew up. Life wasn’t as happy as you thought when you were children. He still recognised the same strength inside of you, the same glistening goodness, the same kind intelligence. It brought back some happy memories to his mind, as he continued to stalk you. He tilted his head to the side when he saw you picking up a young kid from a house. He heard you gently talking to the child as you were hugging them and cuddling them against your chest. The kid was giggling and kissing your cheek, happily snuggling against you as their little arms were wrapped around your neck. You softly put them in your car, safely settled them, before driving home.

Michael found his way there as well.

As you arrived at home, the news that Michael had escaped was on all the channels of your television. You didn’t know he was observing you from the living room window, and he noticed you didn’t seem afraid. He swore he even read on your lips saying something like “Good for you, Micky”. You kept watching the TV a little longer before you got up and put your child to bed. You went out of Michael’s line of vision as you grabbed your kid and climbed upstairs with them in your arms. You tucked them into their bed and opened a book to read them their bedtime story. No matter how exhausted you were, you needed to take care of them the best you could. Even if their father was gone and was refusing to pay for his child, it was going to be alright, you promised it to yourself and your baby.

You fell asleep with your child but when you woke up, you saw a man standing in front of you. You jumped and instinctively moved in front of your baby to protect them. You tried to find a weapon, but there was nothing in your child’s room. And the masked man was so tall and carrying a kitchen knife. You didn’t think it was Michael.

“Please, leave my baby out of this. If you want to hurt me, do it somewhere else” you begged. Michael tilted his head to the side as he tried to watch past you the sleeping form of the child.

He slowly reached for his mask and lifted it long enough for you to see his face. His expression was blank but you recognised his eyes and his features. Your eyes widened.

“Micky?” you whispered and he put the mask back on as a way to positively answer your question.

You slowly moved closer to him, so surprised he was there after all those years, but also so happy he was finally back to you.

“You won’t hurt me, right?” you asked, even though you couldn’t imagine how your childhood best friend could do you any kind of harm. He slightly shook his head, and you fully relaxed.

“I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to come see you, you know. Loomis never let me. But I never forgot about you.” you whispered to him as you reached for the hand that wasn’t holding the knife, so he wouldn’t believe you were trying to sweet talk to him to disarm him. 

He let you touch him before putting the knife away and his now free hand reached for your face and hair. You smiled up at him. 

“I’m glad you came by, that you didn’t forget about me either. Hope you didn’t break down my door completely though” you half joked “You know you could have rung and I would have opened the door to you” you teased as you were feeling quite at ease with him. He simply shrugged but you could tell he was listening and enjoying the sound of your voice and your cheekiness. No one had talked to him that way in years, like a human being, like someone you can be relaxed with, like someone you enjoy.

"You’re tall now" you giggled, and his silence was disturbing you but you knew he must have gone through a lot of stuff during all those years. And it was going to be alright because you were going to take care of him, like he was going to be there for you and your baby, you knew it.

“This is my baby” you whispered as you let Michael see your child “The father is an asshole who left us but it’s life I guess” you added as Michael’s attention went back on you. He came a little bit closer to your kid, to have a better look at them before reaching to very softly pet their head. You smiled as you watched this sweet interaction. You carefully grabbed his hand again and you gently tugged him away from your child’s room so you both settled in your living room.

“You hungry or anything?” you asked Michael as he was sitting down on the couch but he shook his head and simply brought you closer to him. He awkwardly hugged you and you hugged him back, your head on his shoulder. 

“You can stay here as long as you want and you can come back whenever you want too. I won’t call the cops on you and I hope you’ll be able to get revenge on Loomis.” You whispered and his hold tightened on you. He felt like he was finally home, especially with you in his arms. You had so many questions you wanted to ask, but for now, silence was alright and you were feeling safe enough to close your eyes and snuggled in his embrace.

“Promise me you’ll be careful and you won’t let them take you back” you whispered as you were about to fall asleep. Michael simply removed his mask and pressed his lips against the top of your head, as a silent promise that, yes, he would never leave you again.

Taglist:

@feathery-ass​

@g0thl3zz

@erasable-mustache  

[bella-goths-wife]

Which reader has it worse? (Worst to best)

1. Yandere cullens reader

Reader is emotionally, verbally and most of the time physically abused

They would have to deal with being treated like a child for hundreds of years all while everyone imposes their fantasy of what they have to be

She has to be Rosalie’s sweet girl

She has to be Edwards therapist

She has to be Alice’s doll

She had to be jaspers constant gratification

She has to be Esme’s mommas girl

She has to be Carlisle’s daddy’s girl

She has to be Emmett’s cute little sis

She has to be bellas only friend who gives good advice and lends an ear

Reader can’t even have the privacy of hating them in their mind because Edward is constantly going through their thoughts

They have to be all these things all the time without a mental rest and also balancing their power

If they put one foot over line Carlisle has them kicking and screaming from punishment

Is it any wonder they try to escape all the time?

2. Lost boys daughter

Readers early life will be good most of the time

Apart from the occasional outburst from David and the constant abandonment from Paul reader would grow up with the thought of a decent childhood because of Dwayne, marko, max and star

It all comes crumbling down when reader becomes a teenager

The boys can’t handle you growing a personality outside of them, they wish they could mould you with the qualities they wish to enforce on you

They will constantly abuse you, most of the time mentally and verbally but occasionally physically

They cause reader to go into constant depressive episodes and only take interest in them when it’s convenient for them

Once reader grows up to be a person with desires and goal outside of them, they grow colder and more strict

They heard readers calls for help and thought that it was for attention

Not to mention the punishment room that reader never really recovered from

The boys would rather have you be dead than away from them

So all in all, much better than the cullens but much worse than the rest

3. Yandere Micheal Myers daughter

Michael genuinely cares for reader in his own way

While yes, he may view them slightly as a pet, he still cares about them

He makes himself more available for them

Michael stayed in the mental institution for so long because it meant that he could have you in their younger years

He loves reader more than most things in his life, accept for killing

That means that when he does break out and track you down when your old enough to take care of yourself, he’ll leave you for weeks to get his bloodlust out

He does this so you don’t see him being aggressive because sometimes he gets concerned that he may accidentally hurt you

What puts Michael so low on this list is the lack of physical or verbal abuse

He refuses to lay a single finger on you

You two have a fight? He does to kill to get the anger out

The only times he ever came off as aggressive is the times you’ve asked to leave and he’s broken things around him in frustration

He may use his size to block exits or to intimidate but he will not hurt you

He’s gone for weeks on end so if you want to leave what’s realistically stopping you?

There’s no locks on the doors or windows, your allowed a phone, you can go out, food is delivered to your door every week

You could leave at any moment and yes Michael may find you but he won’t hurt you or take you back

He’ll just watch to make sure your safe and kill people he sees as a bad influence

He just wants to make sure your safe

The only reason he isn’t the best is because he will not accept you growing up and he killed your family

4. Cullen reader with volturi

Once cullen reader has escaped the cullens, they would take anything

If we follow the plot we know that most if not all of the volturi are yandere

Yet they don’t use this to excuse cruel actions towards you

They give you options and let you grow into a person

The volturi kings even offer and provide mates for you while the cullens killed anyone who you could even consider an friend

They would respect your diet, accommodate your powers and provide you with outings and experiences

They can be cruel and controlling but compared to the cullens they are a cake walk

Your given everything you could ever want and unimaginable power that you can wield

You have vampire royalty wrapped around your finger

They would defend you with their lives and give you everything on a silver platter

All they ask In return is your eternal loyalty and love

[chemicallywrit]

Happy Audio Drama Sunday! What a week! Let's talk about audio drama!

⏰ Nine To Midnight has its own feed now, which I appreciate, as a listener to many of the involved pods, because I didn't get like six iterations of the show in my feed. I did have to go seek it out though, but I'm so glad I did. These stories!!! These STORIES. The second episode in particular stuck out, just banger after banger. Also, what's up David Ault! Always fun to watch David Ault flex.

😈 Dungeons and Daddies this week was on the short side, but woof. I. Love. The Stamplers. I love them. I love you Ron Stampler and Terry Jr. Stampler and Scary Terri Marlowe Stampler. They are ridiculous and excellent. Honestly though, their wonderful energy was just the prelude to the truly heartbreaking Close clan. These boys are so deep in denial they ought to be worried about the bends. Yikes. I'm really looking forward to watching them try to save hell and make up for lost time.

⚡️ Electromancy! Of COURSE it's all happening at the dance. What kind of school story would this be if everything wasn't going to go down at the dance? Like with all fantasy about young people, I love the mixture of extremely high stakes (colonialism and revolution) and extremely low stakes (but what am I going to WEAR). I can't wait for part two. @electromancypodcast

👟 Keep It Steady!!! New episode of Keep It Steady! Our teenage burnout is faced with the mortifying ordeal of having real friends who love him, which is a wild thing for a teen to have to accept when he has zero self esteem. And then on top of everything, he gets concussed! My boy! @keepitsteadypod

⚖️ The Adventure Zone Imbalance has appeared on the feed, which is a relief to me, a person who hates listening to things on youtube. And Davenport is there! My main man! If y'all need to know anything about me, it's that I love Davenport. I missed these guys so much.

🚀 Travelling Light is a new show from @monstrousproductions, and I am THRILLED. I love a travelogue, I love a character with ties to religion, I love a warm scifi show, I love a recipe. I know from their tumblr that the writer and narrator of this show is Quaker, which is a tradition I'm not very familiar with, so I'm interested to see how that perspective influences this story. It's just so NICE.

👻 I started listening to Magenta Presents this week, in an effort to listen to everything Lindsay Sharman has ever done, and this is spooky. Beth Eyre is always a treat to listen to, and Lucy Roslyn, whose work I am not familiar with, is also a fantastic actor. They have great chemistry. I love a true ghost story, and I love a protagonist who feels like she's slowly losing her mind. @longcatmedia

🪓 I've finally arrived at the bit of Woe.Begone where other actors are showing up, and surprise! It's David Ault again! He's everywhere! I haven't interacted with fans of this show, so I had no idea, and apparently fans hate his character. To be fair, I did too, but now David's here doing the voice, and it's so much WORSE. Well done, David.

🍕 I finished s1 of Gastronaut and started s2, and I find myself enamored with this guy, coming from a place of relative privilege, tearing his preconceptions apart with a fork and a knife. The writing is lush, the story is fascinating, and it really hits the spot for me of "moody thoughtful nonfiction." I love it so much. I can't believe there are only two seasons. How dare they. (I trust them though.)

🧛🏻‍♀️ Re: Dracula is done, and we have announced Carmilla! My role in Carmilla will be less than it was for Drac, but I'm still very excited to get in on making this story. It's going to be amazing.

🧟‍♂️ The Dead's second episode has appeared, and I am continually impressed with the people I work with. What a death scene from Marquis Moore! What good acting from Brandon Nguyen! They are a joy to direct.

As for me, I'm about to start getting Inn Between ready to post! Are you hype? I'm hype. If you like what I do and want to give me a hand, please check out my ko-fi!

See you next week!