#but like. at least they made him a world leader not a fucking COP

[tiredatiny]

—Concrete jungle where dreams are made of…

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x male reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, gang au, slowburnish, angst

Warnings: a lot of cursing, gangs, fighting, arguments, guns, mentions of insomnia(?), death, abusive parent, mommy issues, nightmares, hallucinations, lowkey toxic masculinity, crying, unhealthy coping mechanism, accidental overdosing attempt but not really, quick mention of suicide

Summary: Taeyong has been trying to get help to defeat the newly formed gang but no one seems to be willing to help him.. except Chinatown’s most powerful gang’s leader.

Ah the bustling city of New York. Full of life and adventures. Some of the people living there will have a peaceful day and some of them will have the police chasing after them.

“Shit shit shit! Run faster, they’re gonna catch us!!”

“I’m trying!”

The two young men ran and ran until they reached a familiar bar. Quickly they swung the door open and hid inside the gloomy pub. The police didn’t come into the bar, they probably didn’t want to cause a scene. Both of them exhaled in relief but instantly stiffened when they heard a voice behind them.

“The cops? Really?”

It was you.

“Y/N hi uumm we can explain.” They both stood up in shame as they kept their eyes on the floor. “Just… don’t let it happen again”, you muttered and left the two men stand there confused. They expected nagging and an angry Y/N but you didn’t even yell a single insult at them.

You made your way to the back of the bar ready to get some peace. Today had been kicking you in the ass, to put it nicely, and all you wanted to do was spend some time alone with absolutely no distractions. An impossible request.

Not even five minutes later you found yourself face to face with your least favorite person in the whole world, Lee Taeyong. It felt like the universe had stopped everything it was doing because of the way everyone’s eyes were fixated on you two. Well it wasn’t everyday that you could see your rival gang’s leader standing on your doorstep.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You snarled between your teeth. The way he was standing, breathing- literally everything about him was disgusting. “I need to talk to you privately”, Taeyong answered.

Someone stepped between the two of you: “no way in hell Taeyong.” You stayed silent for a moment waiting for something to happen, maybe the leader would threaten or maybe even beg but no. “It’s okay Kun, let him talk”, you decided to give Taeyong a chance, “but you’ll say whatever it is you need to say right here. No private chit chat, you understand?”

“We need to team up. You and me toge-“

“Absolutely not.” To think that he was actually suggesting such an idea. “Y/N you need to understand that we have to do th-“

“There’s no we”, you cut him off again.

“Let me finish my sentence for fucks sake!”

You let out an exaggerated sigh. God this conversation was giving you a headache.

“The gangs from east have gotten together and are trying to get new territory”, Taeyong explained rather seriously. You had heard about the happenings of east but until now hadn’t seen any issues with it. “And how exactly does that affect me?” you questioned. “New territory aka Chinatown. They’re coming for you and then possibly me as well. I can’t risk it.. for my sake of course”, he mumbled the last part but you were able to catch it.

“You don’t want to do this- hell I don’t want to team up either but you have to understand that-“

“Fine.”

Everyone inside the bar was shocked to hear you agree to Taeyong’s request. Not only did you never get together with another gangs but you also never ever would work with your number one enemy.

“But this is only for my benefit, remember that Lee Taeyong.”

You later ended up regretting saying yes to the other because now your apartment was full of gang members, both yours and Taeyong’s. But why in your apartment? Simple, your apartment was in Chinatown. And Chinatown would be the first victim of east’s gang. Or at least that’s what Taeyong had reasoned before stuffing his gang into your already cramped apartment. He had also mentioned something about how keeping your enemies close was a good thing because of the saying, but honestly you had paid zero attention to him so you weren’t a hundred percent sure.

“Y’know I could really get used to this.. I mean 18 guys in one apartment”, one of your members Yangyang joked. You gave him a warning look and the poor guy’s smile instantly dropped with a quiet ‘sorry’.

“Everyone listen up!” You tried getting everyone’s attention but nobody seemed to even notice you.. well nobody except Taeyong. That cocky little bastard yelled a bit louder and like magic everyone got quiet. You showed him the middle finger before speaking up: “since we have so many people right now, we have to split into two groups to be able to live.”

You had thought earlier about the current situation and remembered that Kun had a very much bigger apartment right next to Chinatown. “So about 7 people will stay here at my place and the other 11 will be staying at Kun’s house. Understood?”

Taeyong got up from the couch with an irritated expression. It seemed like he had some complaints. “Y/N we didn’t talk about this-“

“I don’t think we need to.”

Something in Taeyong’s brain snapped. I don’t think we need to. Are you stupid or something? You can’t just make decisions on your own and expect people to follow them just like that. You’re not the only one leading the group, you know that right. “You wanna get beat up or what?” He threatened with a rage-filled voice. The dry chuckle that left your mouth made the male see red. He grabbed you by your collar while yelling incoherent insults. Neither of the leaders’ gang’s members dared to interrupt whatever the two of you were doing, in fear of starting a fight.

Before Taeyong could throw a punch, which he had been waiting to do for some time now, you pulled a gun at him. “If I were you Taeyong, I’d watch my next words very carefully.” 

“You won’t shoot me”, he replied cockily, a smirk evident on his face. Of course you weren’t going to shoot him, you weren’t an idiot. You tilted Taeyong’s head with the gun and let out a defeated sigh. “You’re right, I won’t”, you admitted with a fond smile and punched him in the face with the revolver. 

-

After the events of today, neither one of you spoke to each other. And that’s maybe a good thing because if you did, another fight could possibly happen again.

Despite the fact that the apartment was full of people, it was quiet. Too quiet actually. Did the others already go to sleep? You carefully opened the door and saw that your prediction was right. Your eyes landed on a sleeping Taeyong and- oh god how stupid he looked. Snoring and turning around on the sofa without a worry in the world. 

You closed the door and sat down on your bed, maybe it was time for you too to go to sleep for.. how many hours exactly? You glanced at the clock that was hung up on your wall. The pointers showed 2:50. When you realised that you were going to get a maximum of 5 hours of sleep, you rushly wrapped yourself in a blanket and tried to fall asleep. 

The rising sun was shining to your room through the poorly put up grey curtains. You grunted at the feeling of getting blinded by the sun and turned to your other side. You thought putting the blanket over your head would fix everything and take you to the dreamland you had hoped to go to for 3 hours now. Your restless night had started strong, you were dozing off every now and then and even managed to fall asleep for half an hour. But then you started overthinking things, what if Taeyong woke up before you and decided to harm you. Maybe he was going to punch you as revenge from earlier... Maybe he was..

You don’t know when you fell asleep or how, but you were woken up several hours later by someone with the attitude of a chihuahua.  

“I didn’t really think you were much of a sleeper, but guess I was deeply wrong.”

You raised your head from the comfort of the pillow looking around, still half-asleep and confused about the fact that who was talking to you.

“Damn Y/N, you look like shit.” 

Oh now you definitely knew who was speaking. You quickly got up while ignoring Taeyong and his snarky little comments. It was way too early to start anything with him. After brushing your teeth and getting some decent breakfast you were ready to officially start your day. 

“So did you sleep well?” You heard the question behind you. Your member and a close friend Chittaphon- or better known as Ten sat down next to you. “Okay”, you answered quickly as if you wanted to avoid the inquiry. “Stop lying you little fucker. Have you seen yourself and those eyebags?” the male hit you on the head gently with a scolding tone. 

Little did you know that Taeyong had been eavesdropping on your and Ten’s little chat from around the corner. He was just about to join the conversation but was stopped by you, more specifically your laugh. He was too stunned to even move. The Y/N he knew never laughed or had fun. 

“But seriously if those nightmares have made a comeback, tell me.” Gosh Ten was such a kind soul, you still had no idea how he ended up in a gang. “What are you gonna do? Scare them away or something?” you laughed just thinking about it.

The sweet moment between you and Ten was sadly cut short by a phone call. “Sorry it’s Kun I have to take it”, you murmured apologetically before answering. 

Something wasn’t right. It was quiet, not even a single “hello” could be heard. “Kun you there?” You couldn’t help but get worried. It was silent another ten seconds before he answered: “they found us.” Then the call ended. 

Maybe it was your expression that gave it away but Ten somehow also knew that whatever Kun had said was bad. “Call Renjun and Xiaojun and meet us at Kun’s place”, you ordered without thinking much. You then turned to face Taeyong, who had finally had the courage to join you in the living room, “You’re coming with me.” And for the first time ever Taeyong listened to you. 

-

You ran with thousands of thoughts racing through your mind. What if it was too late? What if someone was hurt? What if- 

“Are you listening??” Taeyong’s question brought you back to reality. “No, not really”, you answered truthfully, it was getting hard to even focus on what the other was saying. Before Taeyong could open his mouth to reply with some sort of rude comment, you both heard a loud gunshot. 

It was like something in you exploded, like you suddenly had no control over anything that was happening. The male next to you saw the clear stress in your eyes, but decided to not say anything. 

Your body started moving without realising and soon you found yourself at a building’s stairway. Only now did you realise that Taeyong was not in fact with you. But you knew to not worry about him, he was used to these kinds of situations and could handle them without help. 

Your breath stiffened when hearing footsteps approach your current hiding place. You held the gun- or specifically  The Smith & Wesson Model 27 revolver, ready to shoot the person. 

You knew they were close, close enough to shoot, you even saw their dark figure right in front of you. It’s now or never, you thought and aimed at the enemy’s head. But when you heard the bullet hit nothing, you knew something was deeply wrong. Your assumption was proven correct after turning around and being met with the familiar feeling of getting shot in the shoulder. 

The piercing pain distracted you enough to let the person escape. You let out a quiet grunt while holding onto your wound and continued moving upwards, towards Kun’s apartment. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” The sudden question made you jump and turn around, the gun now aimed at the speaker. “Woah woah it’s just me”, Taeyong put his hands up and took a few steps back, just to be safe. 

“What does it look like?” you started climbing up the stairs, careful of not being spotted by any of the enemies. Taeyong followed just behind you, also being extremely cautious.

It was silent between the two of you. Just heavy breathing and distant gunshots could be heard. “Does it hurt much?” Taeyong finally broke the quiet bubble ,“the shoulder I mean..” You scoffed at him, “are you worried about me or something? Focus on yourself.”

When you made it to the apartment, you both saw Kun and Renjun fighting with the enemy. You quickly shot one of them in the chest and the other one was down as fast as the first, thanks to Taeyong.

“Where’s Ten?” You asked as soon as your and Renjun’s eyes met. Since those two had come here together, surely he knew about the male’s whereabouts. Renjun thought about it for a moment, “he’s probably somewhere safe.” The much shorter male kind of dodged the question, afraid to say that, he had actually no idea where Ten was.

You nodded slowly, trying to think of what to say. “Make sure that there’s no more of those people” ,you motioned towards the two bodies lying on the floor “but.. if things get bad, we leave okay? Don’t want any one of us dead.” After instructing Kun and Renjun, you turned to face Taeyong, who had been standing next to you awkwardly for some time now. “You can do whatever you want, just don’t get in my way”, you murmured the sentence coldly before leaving the three males alone.

While moving around the building, the feeling of something terrible happening kept you wanting to see your friend alive and well. You had to remind yourself multiple times that Ten knew how to fight, he knew to not fuck things up. You reached the fifth floor and automatically knew someone was there with you, hiding somewhere so you couldn’t see them. You were ready to shoot whatever moved, you didn’t want to risk getting hurt again.

Slowly moving forward, you made your way through the hallway. You heard someone run down the stairs and turned towards the sound instinctively. When the familiar face made its appearance, you let out a sigh of pure relief. It was no other than Ten.

At the heat of the moment, you totally forgot about the possible enemy that was with you. “What happened to your shoulder?” Ten asked while pointing at his own shoulder, “you need Chenle to patch you up when we get back?”

“Yeah absolutely, it hurts like hell” you forced a crooked smile “but I’ll manage for the time being.” Ten smiled back at you and for a moment, it was peaceful. It’s always calm before the storm.

“Y/N, there’s-!”

A loud bang sound was heard, followed by a thud. The male that had stood in front of you a second ago was now on the floor. Your brain took a moment to process everything that was happening… there was blood. There was so much blood. And Ten was bleeding badly.

You were in panic, to say simply. With your shaky hands and unsteady breathing, it was hard to do anything to help your friend. “You- you’re,” you tried to force words out of your mouth, “gonna.. be okay.” You felt Ten’s breathing get fainter every passing second, and it was driving you insane. You sniffled quietly, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

No matter how hard you put pressure on his wound, the blood just dirtied your hands into crimson color. You wanted Ten to say something, to say that he was going to be fine.

But it was already too late. He was gone.

You started shaking the body with sobbed pleases, he wasn’t dead, he couldn’t. When you didn’t get any response from Ten, you knew he wasn’t coming back. Loud, ugly crying filled the empty void that was the hallway. “You piece of shit had- had to die huh!?” You cried out while holding onto the other like he was going to disappear into thin air, if you let go.

Hopeless, you felt so hopeless. You couldn’t do anything but wet Ten’s shirt with your tears. All critical thinking was thrown out the window a long time ago, you didn’t know who shot him, you didn’t know if you were going to be dead next. Honestly, you couldn’t care less at that point.

You had no idea how long you laid there, on the floor with Ten. But when his body started getting cold, you knew deep down that it was time to leave. Yet you didn’t want to go, not yet. But when hearing someone call out your name, you had to get up. With a long breath in and out, you tried to get the composure back that you had lost before. You took one last painful look at your friend and with that you left the fifth floor. 

“There you are-” Xiaojun’s expression changed drastically after seeing the state you were in. With bloodshot eyes, your face red and puffy, the male knew that you had cried. “Did something happen? Are you hurt?” You tried answering his questions, but a sudden wave of coldness, followed by dizziness, totally overwhelmed you.  

The shoulder. You had been shot. How could have you forgotten about that?? You knew what was happening, you had lost a lot of blood. “Xiao..”, you took a few groggy steps towards the other. Before you could continue your sentence, an army of black dots covered your sight of vision, and just like that, you were out.

-

An old house in the middle of nowhere. You knew where you were, you were home. Calling a place like this a home, wasn’t something you were proud of, but it was all you got. 

Walking on the pathway, that once was nothing more than grass, felt safe for some reason. The door of the house was open and you stepped inside. You knew that you shouldn’t be here- no, you didn’t want to be here. But as long as mother wasn’t home, it was safe. 

You looked at your own reflection through a broken mirror, mother had thrown a plate at it once. You made your way to your own room and sat down on the bed. It was silent, it was better that way. 

“Y/N.. mother’s home..” 

Whenever mother came back from work, it was best to stay out of the way. You had learned it the hard way. So you quickly hid inside your closet, just like you did as a child.

“I heard you cry, love.” Mother was near, you could hear her footsteps outside the closet. “Why are you crying Y/N?” You held your breath and tried to be as invisible as possible. 

The door opened and there she stood. Mother asked the same question again, yet you couldn’t answer. “Come out of the closet please, you shouldn’t be hiding.” You didn’t have time to react, mother was already pulling you out by your hair, even if it hurt, you couldn’t scream. 

“You killed Ten, didn’t you Y/N? Is that why you’re crying?” You looked up from the dirty floor and saw mother sobbing. You instantly tried defending yourself, but got kicked in the stomach as a punishment for talking back. “Now everyone’s going to think that I love a son, who’s a murderer!” Mother threw things at you, some hit and some didn’t.

You flinched when her soft hand caressed your bloody cheek. “You could’ve saved him” mother whispered, “he would be alive, if you didn’t do what you always do.” With a kiss on the forehead, mother stood up and said her final words before leaving: “I still love you, even if you’re a murderer.”

-

You woke up covered in cold sweat. Did you have a nightmare? You took shaky breaths in and out while trying to figure out where you were. You saw a clock and could feel the pillow against your head, you were laying on your own bed. But you couldn’t stay here, you needed to get some water and maybe even fresh air. 

You quietly opened the door and started making your way towards the bathroom. You took note of the people sleeping in the living room, there were more than you had thought, maybe all the members from Kun’s apartment came here. When the door to the bathroom closed, another door opened. 

Taeyong had woken up earlier to you shuffling and talking in your sleep. He was just about to shake you awake, but stopped when you suddenly opened your eyes. He got scared so bad that he almost let out a quiet scream. You didn’t see him though, maybe that’s a good thing.

He listened as you walked through the apartment and when hearing the sound of a door opening and closing, Taeyong carefully stepped outside the room, trying to figure out where you went. Not like he really cared or anything, it’s just that Chenle made him watch after you. When you had passed out and carried back to your place, at first you weren’t waking up at all and when you finally did after two hours, you managed to fall asleep- or maybe the medicine that Chenle gave you put you asleep. 

Either way, Taeyong was put in charge of you for the time being. Chenle or Kun would have done that in a heartbeat, but they both had something to take care of. After the fight back at Kun’s place, Ten had gone missing. They had gone looking for him and that’s why Taeyong ended up being your babysitter. 

You had locked the bathroom door, just in case. Watching your own reflection through the dirty mirror, you saw how much of a mess you truly were. Messy hair and dark eyebags made your face look very unpleasant, to put it nicely. You noticed something in the background of your reflection and for a split second  you were a hundred percent sure it was Ten. 

You slid down to the bathroom floor with a soft sob. Ten is dead.. Ten is dead.. you tried to calm yourself down with those words but as expected, it didn’t help at all. The walls were closing in and it felt impossible to breathe, you thought you were dying. Nightmares that once were just dreams, had become a reality for you and it’s hard to escape nightmares when you’re wide awake.

There had to be something for this kind of condition, some type of pill that would make you calm down. You reached for the cabinet and a bunch of bottles dropped to the floor. Reading them in somewhat of a hurry, you ended up grabbing pain killers and swallowing seven pills.  

“Y/N.. uumm you in there?” 

Someone knocked on the door, it was so loud. “Stop banging on the door...”, you said more to yourself than the stranger on the other side. You finally stepped out of the bathroom and a chill ran down your spine when realising the stranger was Taeyong. “I’m going to”, you took a quick look at the state of the bathroom and then turned back to face the male, “take a q-quick walk.” You didn’t wait for an answer. 

Taeyong stood beside you, while you struggled putting your shoes on. “You really should stay here” he whispered just as you were about to leave. “I mean, Chenle and Kun will kill me if they found out, I let you go for a walk. And you could get sick and get the bulletwound infected-” You scoffed at him and opened the door, “no need to lie. You don’t care about me.” 

“Yeah.. I guess you’re right.” Taeyong weakly forced a smile on his face and when you slammed the door close, he muttered something before going back to bed. 

The fresh air hit your pale face and the sounds of New York calmed you down a bit. You didn’t know where you were going, you just wanted somewhere far away. 

-

“Where the fuck is Y/N??” 

Taeyong was shaken awake by two unrecognisable people, his eyes tried to focus on their faces, but the temptation of falling asleep again was making it hard. The leader heard the same question again, he had no idea what they were talking about, you were there with him, sleeping on your own bed- oh wait you weren’t. “Why’s he not here?” The two men, who Taeyong now recognised as Renjun and Chenle, let out a sigh “That’s what we’re asking, you idiot.” 

Taeyong thought about the last night, he had woken up at around 4 AM to something and had gone back to sleep- no, there had to have happened something more. He tried rewinding the memories from earlier and this time he remembered you. More specifically, he remembered you leaving to go for a.. walk? 

“He.. Y/N went to get some fresh air” Taeyong recalled, “but he didn’t come back?” 

-

For three days, Taeyong looked for you for three days. The guilt he was feeling couldn’t be described with words, it was something else. Letting you go just like that when earlier, you had been through hell. The first and worst thought that crossed Taeyong’s brain was that, you had committed suicide. That’s why he had been trying to find you like crazy. And maybe that’s why it felt like a miracle, when seeing you alive and well. 

He hesitated to approach you at first. You looked so.. peaceful, he didn’t want to ruin that. Watching you just exist, the view of the Manhattan bridge slowly disappeared. It was just you and him. 

“We were really worried about you y’know.” You looked up and saw Taeyong stand next to you, it was obvious that he was feeling awkward. You hummed in response, not really knowing what to say. “You said, you were only going for a walk”, the other didn’t even dare to look at you, just watch the scenery in front of him. It was silent for a while. “Do you think I’m a coward, Taeyong?” The sudden question made Taeyong look at you in confusion. “No, no absolutely not-” 

“I’ve been acting like a fucking coward.” Your voice was shaky, “a-and I just ran away because I’m a stupid piece of shit who can’t take a-any responsibility!” You didn’t want to cry, not in front of Taeyong. Still the salty tears spilled from your eyes like a waterfall. 

You felt a pair of arms wrap around your body, it felt good. “W-what are you doing?” You tried to not sound weak, but the sniffling made it oh so hard. Taeyong thought about an answer for a moment, “comforting, I guess..?” You nodded, accepting the safety he was giving. 

You two had stayed like that until you had calmed down. It was getting cold and you started making your way back home, without talking about what happened on the bridge. 

As you were about to open the door to your apartment, you turned to Taeyong. 

“I think I like you, but I don’t know if I can love you.” 

[skellinore]

"Family Photo!"

My favourite bois!

I love them so much.

My pride and joy.

>:3

–Trender/Alexander, the fashionable one, who talks so fancy you have to be a millionaire to understand them.

–Trender/Alexander is also twins with Markus, Alexander is older than him by a couple of seconds.

–Alexander gets mistaken for Slender's twin a lot, while Markus and Splendor get mistaken for twins as well.

–Trender is aceflux/gay/aromantic. Goes by they/them pronouns.

–Alexander also has a slight British accent? But not so much, it's light. Either or they use their French accent.

–Trender also runs a huge fashion company up on Earth and Hell, called Sinner's Delight. Alex is so competitive, even killing the opposing competition that dare try to out top their company, nothing is below them, even blackmailing and hiring spies and hitmen.

–Alexander is fine with murder, just as long as the blood doesn't get on their clothes, same as Slender, while Splendor and Markus hate killing people.

–Slender/Wilhelm the 3rd, the serious one, nothing gets past it. Very intelligent and resourceful.

–Slender hates their real name, has had it change, but his brother's use his real name to annoy them.

–Slender is twins with Splendor! Splendor is older by a couple of minutes, but Splendor likes to state that Slender is the oldest.

–Slenderman hates, no loathes humans, so the Slender Mansion does not exist in my AU. (It's also because I don't like the Slender Mansion AU, my Slender would fucking rip and tear Sally apart with no remorse, he just loathes humanity.)

–Slendy has an Italian accent he uses this one the most, rather than its German accent.

–Slender is pansexual/demisexual. Goes by they/them/he/him/it pronouns.

–Spends most of his time protecting forest all around the world, killing anyone who dares cuts down any tree, anyone who dares harm the land.

–Their family doesn't know about its relationship between him and Zalgo, honestly, it's mostly a stupid bet the two of them made, to see who could keep their relationship a secret from both of their families the longest. They're married.

–Splendor/Sonny, the sunshine brother, very optimistic about everything and everyone, likes to act innocent, but is just as knowledgeable as his younger brothers.

–Splendor is actually one without an accent, but whenever his twin, Slender is around, Sonny will try and mimic them.

–Sonny is a pansexual/demisexual. They're genderfluid.

–Sonny works with angels, despite he, himself being a demon, loves humans. Protects them, even if sometimes it almost kills him.

–Splendor travel more frequently than his other three siblings. Mostly because his job demands it.

–When Sonny has spare time, Splendor puts on shows of entainment, not like that, nerds. He's a ring leader, displays shows of great magic, tricks, trained animals, and things you've never seen before.

–Splendor is actually possessive of his brothers, often manipulating his siblings to spend more time with him rather than their friends and dates.

–Markus/Sonnet, the flirty and adventurous one, very respectful and funny, the best one out of all of them who is the best with speaking with humans and demons alike.

–Markus Sinclair is his full real name, while Trender's real name is Alexander DeWitt, then Sonny Summers, and last but not least, Wilhelm Dixon the 3rd. The reason they all have different last names is because Faceless Demons have house symbols and titles that tell other beings what family they belong to.

–Markus and Alexander are the only ones who have normal human jobs. Markus works as a detective/cop and in his "past lives" worked as a mobster, SWAT, and served in the first World War. Markus just likes helping people, don't ask him about his mob days.

–Markus loves writing poems, hence his nickname; Sonnet. A sonnet is a love poem. Oh right, Sonnet is very popular with the Succubus' and Siren's, while Slender is popular with Zalgo's family and other Faceless Demons, Splendor is popular with Angels, and Trender is popular with faeries and mermaids.

–Markus is bisexual/aceflux/polyamorous. Goes by he/him/daddy pronouns.

–Sonnet is a feminist, and believes in equal justice for everybody, he's kinda like Batman, but without the edginess.

–Markus and his siblings are Faceless Demons, and most of their kind don't really have a concept on gender, so most of their kind kinda wear whatever they want, it's mostly him and Sonny that wear "girly" clothing.

–Markus has either a Russian or Italian accent.

Faceless Demons don't have females or males per se, most of their kind only go by they/them/it pronouns, but most species have pronouns, so some of them have alternative pronouns to make it easier for the other species to understand.

Meaning that there's no Faceless Demon that has boobs or hair, only their species can actually tell themselves apart, but to other demons they might mistake their friend for another Faceless Demon.

I also want to add that Markus Sinclair is my own version of Offenderman, if that wasn't obvious already, he downs that respect everyone juice, big fan of consent. >:3c

[waythroughtheice]

God fucking damn it. Maybe I should write something. Just to get my brain to stop.

Geo Wily au.

Kelvin comes back to a cult that is not run by his wife (did nobody read his backup plans? They said to introduce the cult to his wife and not drag his son into anything until he was an adult. Why did they? Geo is a child!?!?!) but his son. His son. Who is a superhero. A superhero the world is convinced is a Hikari. Geo. Child. How?

Grampa Wily is laughing.

The Cult refuses to let Kelvin take back over.

Geo was the best leader they had. Geo gave them treats for good behavior! He didn't immediately stop the money laundering schemes (Geo: What's a money laundering?). Geo is the Cult's dad now. (Geo, very tired: I have no idea how we got here and am afraid to ask. All I did was give them stickers and candy for not committing crimes.)

Grandpa Wily refuses to leave Geo. Every time Kelvin takes him he just device hops back to Geo with Omega-Xis's help. Grandpa's favourite.

Kazuma, meanwhile. Is dealing with the dreaded twins. They are. So chaotic. Kazuma kind of wishes he could trade circumstances because at least the Cult can't device hop away from consequences. Please stop getting him banned from locations.

I like to imagine in SF3 all Netnavis became Wizards. Grandpa Wily is free(ish). Granpa has a larger area to encourage children towards evil. Lan and Hub are also commiting crimes. They are breaking and entering to get their boy the best they can. Because it's been 200 years, the laws can't have changed that much, right? They don't even realise. Dr Wily is following the law better than the chaos twins is what I'm saying.

At somepoint the Wily Cult becomes Geo's Cult. Because they adore him. Geo can do no wrong in their eyes. Except working with the cops (generalized). Copper is the exception. They like him. He gives them fun tidbits of info in exchange for not wreaking havoc for a week. (Geo finally asked an adult for help and boy howdy he got it.)

I like to imaging SF2 has a lot of Cult saving lost children shenanigans. Buddicus? No. Bud is kidnapped home before Geo gets there. There are a few memory issues but the familiar environment fixes that quick.

Hope only learns about the Cult when Kelvin asks her how she's been keeping them in check.

Funnily enough, with Geo in charge the Cult grows. Also funny is when he goes back to school half the faculty is made up of cult members. (They were worried about him.)

Pat gets recruited by Geo when he finds out about the dump. Geo's only intentional recruit. (Geo may have tried with Solo. Solo now has a place to go to for help. Solo rarely goes but sometimes he gets sick and just crashes there.)

Grampa Wily approves of this method of world takeover. Kind and just ruler accidentally spreading influence? Sure.

Lan and Hub approve because hey. It's not murder they guess. Kazuma is very tired. But hey. Friendly rivalries are fun.

Kelvin is--so not ready for when he comes back. He expects to find a cult completely under control of his lovely wife, his son safe and sound, and--

What do you mean Geo is the Boss of the Wily Cult.

GRANDPA GET OVER HERE--

Grandpa Wily has had many grandkids over the years and loved them all. He loves Kelvin of course, but.....Kelvin is a goody-two shoes. Geo has sense. Geo is subverting the enemy. Geo is a primo-candidate for world take over.

Geo is his favorite.

Kazuma eventually, in a fit of frustration, introduces the twins to Luna (big mistake), Geo's cult (bigger mistake), and to WAZA (biggest mistake). The Twins recognize Luna as Chad's descendent, grow appalled at her neglectful parents, and call in Protoman.exe for help. But, ah.....all the Netnavis come back, and suddenly all the kids have very watchful NetNavis as as their Wizards. And with the Real Wave technology, they can pop out human sized and interact with the world whenever they like. Is this what parents are like? Weird.

The Twins join Geo's cult for the lols, and quickly become its marketing people. The cult spreads.

The Twins subvert WAZA also for lols, and also for the massive breaches in privacy the police do. This becomes a massive thing a couple years in the future.

Geo eventually becomes World Leader as an adult, because the world loves him. Kazuma is dying in the background. Geo gives him all the paperwork.

[autumnbrambleagain]

fondly reminiscing about dark souls pvp, let's rank them

Dark Souls 1

Invasions: Hard to access, if you want to do a low level pvp twink invasion you have to earn it by beating half the game at a low level. Still a chance to run into people 100 levels higher than you who are invader-catching. A chaotic mess, positively. Sometimes you chase a newbie as they run in fear. Sometimes Havel ambushes you. Sometimes infamous hacker Tallgeese sees you but he likes your funny bloated sorcerer cosplay where you cast the laugh spell a lot, so they banish you from their world and send you a message saying "That was amusing. You get to live." You have no idea what you're going to get. A true disaster mess. I miss it every day. You were indicted. 10/10.

Darkroot Garden: A fun sidezone where people invade you all the time, or you can invade people who dare to trespass. Lots of fun shenanigans. Work for a hot cat monster protecting Artorias' grave, the flavor adds a lot to the meal. 8/10.

An Arena or Something?: I think they eventually added a 1v1 pvp zone but everyone just did fight clubs in Oolacille or Undeadberg and that was fun too. No thrill of the hunt, though. Nothing staked, nothing gained, nothing lost. Masturbation. 6/10.

Dark Souls 2

Invasions and Counterinvasions: Holy shit. You mean blue cops now show up to HELP people being invaded? Fantastic. But there's no unlimited red eye, and soul memory means you eventually outlevel your desired zone no matter what (without the ring). You have to do the tryhard arena to get reliable red eye cracks without cheating in an infinite amount. Takes a lot of the luster out of it. BUT, but the level designs lead to a lot of super fun shenanigans, and the chance of fighting, or being, a bluecop, made it more fair for newbies too. Bonfire ascetics means you can reignite a zone and be invaded in it even after you beat the boss once, letting you draw in invaders to fun zones and have silly battle times. Incredible build possibility compared to the last game, with only a moderate chance of running into identical meta builds, lots of creativity if you stick to it. Ultimately loses a point off perfect because of the soft caps on invading, makes it up for all the other improvements. 9/10.

Bell Towers 1 AND 2: Basically Darkroot Garden, you and another rando invade in waves against someone and their friends. Hang out and see how long you can last before you have to run for the exit, or invade people over and over and see how you can ruin their day. 10/10.

Rats: Be the final boss of a dungeon you get to build up over time. Holy shit. The rat king is so fucking hot and he has an entire storyline where he goes from hatred for humans to dreaming of a day where you live and die together as one because of you showing him humans can be loyal and worthwhile too. Holy shit. My king. Work with your rat allies, set up traps, pick your position, bombard them from afar with magic or a bow or ambush them or just stand at the door like the final fucking boss encounter. Get sucked into someone's rat world and try to touchdown travid football them or dig in and fight them back. Fucking fantastic. Holy shit. The best it ever was. 999/10.

Blood Arena: And if that isn't enough, you can just queue up for some 1v1 tryhard face-smashing. Fine enough. Basically grindr for pvp. More build variety than DS1 makes it not so asinine and straight pvp without stakes or environment shenanigans has something to say for it this time at least? 6/10.

Dark Souls 3

Invasions and Counterinvasions: Well, they existed I'm sure. Undid a lot of DS2's limitations on it, but also didn't introduce anything special. ?/10? Kind of depends on where you invaded, when, who. Could be fun, could be boring, could be frustrating. If you liked invading in the previous dark souls you'll have fun enough in this one/10.

Another Forest I Guess: None of the flavor of the first one, and pretty much only visited by low level peeps. Covenant leader is a dead wolf that won't even talk to you. It was... fine. Mindlessly rehashing Darkroot Garden, down to you defending a bunch of Artorias cosplayers. Eh. 7/10.

Anor Londo Is Here For Some Reason: I don't know why you're working for Aldrich because they insisted none of the covenants have dialogue or personality this time around. It's just this but on Anor Londo. But, the monsters are on your side and there's a bunch, and the level is super fun to fight in, so it gets a bit of a pass. 8/10.

Mound Makers: Holy shit. This should have been more fun than it was, and it was already pretty damn fun. The ability to turn on other invaders and work with the players was really neat, be a cooperator and help them against monsters and then turn on them, hilarious, but it didn't get as much play as it could have but that's just on people not being funny enough with it. I wish the covenant had any explanation as to what a mound is or why you're building it, but at least it had a covenant member who explained anything to you. The game's redemption more or less. 9/10.

Arena: A lot of the PVP got shunted into the arena, but it was a decent arena system. Lots of build variety this time around, too. Didn't mind it one bit, but it felt a bit like masturbation when you could be having more organic pvp encounters. 6/10.

Elden Ring

Invasions and Counterinvasions: Only possible on people who already have a cooperator summoned. Usually multiple cooperators. Giant areas and chance to invade anywhere means you can never prepare or control the environment. Constant gank squads, moonveils, rivers of bloods. Rare that you find someone who wants to be invaded or enjoys it, usually people ganking or doing boss runs or coop and they resent having to deal with invaders. Stacked so heavily against the invader it's like they got tired of people complaining about how much it sucks to be invaded they decided to just make it miserable for invaders instead to discourage it from happening. 4/10 at best.

Arena: Again, feels more like masturbation instead of organic, natural pvp. Lots of neat build variety, though! Don't really get anything out of doing it, though. Uh. Wait. Wait is this all there is what do you mean it has less PvP zones and options than the original dark souls holy shit

Concluding Thoughts

Dark Souls 2 was the best dark souls and Elden Ring is the worst, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

[comicbookhyperfixationtime]

Uncanny X-Men #194- Juggernaut's Back in Town

Last Issue Recap: The team fought Thunderbird's identical brother and his Hellion friends in a US base, tanked whatever remained of their superhero credibility and then proceeded to just let Thunderbird and the Hellions waltz on back to Emma Frost without any repercussions.

This cover is pretty cool, I wouldn’t say the composition is fantastic but it makes it pretty clear what this issue is going to be about (a big ol’ heavy hitter slap fight) and Rogue with Nightcrawler and Colossus’ powers is intriguing.

The issue doesn't start with a fight though, it starts with Juggernaut having a friendly conversation with the most oblivious cop in New York

Yessir, I'm sure the giant hunk of muscle wider than he is tall couldn't possibly have anything to do with the recently escaped super criminal. 10/10 polic-ing.

Juggernaut watches some news crew give exposition for new readers on him (there's plenty of convoluted backstory but all you really need to know is he's the Juggernaut, bitch) and his recent appearances in other comics (shameless plugins). They also remind us how the X-men and Spiderman (who was Juggernaut's latest foe) are Feared and Hated By the World They Have Sworn to Protect. The popularity of a Marvel character in-universe is indirectly proportional to their popularity IRL, thus why Wonderman is highly successful film star.

Cut to the X-men in the Currently-Not-Destroyed Xavier's School upstate waking up and not giving a singular fuck about one of their super criminals on the loose.

He stayed up all night watching old swashbuckler films ahhhh he's such a dork I love him! (Thirsty Sidenote: this is I think the first time Kurt has been drawn without a shirt and gloves on. In earlier issues he seemed to basically live 24/7 in his costume. Yes I noticed. Don't judge me.)

Nobody cares, that is, except for Colossus (aka Piotr Rasputin), who went from one of my favorite characters to least favorite characters when he started dating an underage Kitty Pryde until Marvel Editor in Chief Jim Shooter told them to stop (possibly the only good decisions Jim Shooter ever made). They wasted so much good himbo potential with this boy. Anyway, he's very excited for a rematch with Juggey after demolishing a few blocks with him in a post-breakup funk several issues ago. So excited he quite literally busts out of his clothes.

See, its dumbass himbo behavior like this I'd enjoy a lot more if I couldn't get the bad taste of him and Kitty out of my mouth. Screw you Claremont for ever thinking that was ok.

Wolverine comes in from his daily barefoot snow jog in purple pajamas to tell Nightcrawler to get the team ready to track down Juggernaut because blah blah its their jobs booo you spoilsport. Honestly I would have loved an issue where the X-men just stayed at home and did nothing. I find the cool-down moments in long running comic series are usually my favorite parts. Its nice to see how these characters interact with each other and live their lives when they aren't constantly in mortal peril. But the cover promised a big knockdown dragemout and so, the plot must keep plotting. (Side note: how did Wolvie even find out about the Juggernaut? Everyone else was listening to the radio but he was running outdoors. His plot sense was tingling I guess).

Since Cyclops is a married man, Storm has lost her powers and Professor X is off in Scotland doing New Mutants stuff, Kurt now has the sole leadership responsibility of the team. I've really enjoyed Kurt's run as team leader so far. He's doing his best but he's not cut out for leadership and its clear he hates every minute of it. He's an extroverted sweetheart who would rather support his friends. Its nice to see Nightcrawler get more stuff to do after barely being present for the past for story arcs. His self doubt is also a fantastic change of pace from the previous leadership dynamics, which were the team leader going "Wah wah wah I'm the leader and you have to do what I say I'm going to be a controlling little bitch," and the second in command/former leader muttering under their breath "I would be such a better leader I deserve this title more leader doesn't know what they're doing wah wah wah." It was basically a three way dick measuring contest between Cyclops, Storm and Professor X and I hated every egotistical minute of it.

Speaking of Storm, we cut to her in her home in Kenya showing some colonial douchecanoes who's boss. Storm was recently depowered by an antimutant weapon created by Forge (long story) and so has quit the team and is returning home to find inner peace or something. Being 80s Marvel Kenya is of course portrayed in a nuanced and intelligent manner- just kidding its a thatched roof bush station in the savannah and I'm pretty sure they only chose Mount Kilimanjaro because it was the only place in Africa they could name.

Also this specific Racist White Dude is using a South African slur (kaffir) in Kenya. I'd like to say the writers meant him to be a South African on vacation in Kenya but to be honest I don't think they were thinking that hard about it. If I'm wrong though and this isn't just an example of lazy writing, lmk.)

The women running bush station who Storm saves turns out to be a member of the tribe that worshipped her as a Goddess in her first appearance (because, again, Marvel is well known for their fantastic African representation /s) and falls at her feet. The implications of this are that the regional drought mentioned in previous panels is the result of Ororo joining the X-men and no longer acting as weather Goddess, which raises a whole bunch of questions about the morality of her decision to leave in the first place, as well as broader questions about the ecology of the Marvel Universe as a whole that literally superpowers were needed to keep the climate in the region stable in the first place (climate change must be hitting them hard and fast, forget the Setinels, this is the bad future y'all should be going back to stop!). Anyway, I'm sure at least some of these will be answered the next time we see her.

Back to the main storyline, Kitty and Rachel are spying on Juggernaut, who is in a bank in civies, seemingly doing ordinary, none-crime stuff.

Look at his giant butt in that tiny chair how could anybody be fooled by this?!

The stakeout is going pretty quietly until Nimrod shows up to finally do something. The panels showing him locking in on the X-men's location is pretty neat, but its giving me Deja Vu. I wonder if its because the panel is so famous I've seen it before, or if they copied some iconic imagery from something else (it is giving me Escape From New York vibes)

Rachel and Kitty evacuate the civies and regroup with the rest of the X-men as Nimrod focuses his attention on Juggernaut. He punches Juggernaut into a conveniently empty construction lot where they can beat the stuffing out of each other without the writers having to worry about civilians. Do you think construction lots cause superhero fights, or do superhero fights cause construction lots? Its a chicken-egg sort of thing I feel. The X-men show up to stick their noses in like a bunch of idiots and this is where I have to make my opinions on Nimrod known.

Nimrod is a mutant hunting cop-robot that had been introduced previously, having been pulled into the current timestream from the Days of Future Past timeline when Dr Strange reversed time to stop the spell of an evil wizard from turning Manhatten into a Hyborian Era fantasy kingdom. I personally think exchanging Fantasy AU Avengers for pink murderbot is a pretty lame deal, but what do I know. Anyway, he's spent all his time since his initial appearance living in some poor guy's basement, eating his snacks, taking up space and barely masquerading as human, much like me.

So. I'ma be honest. I don't like Nimrod. I think he looks like a stupid pink trapezoid. Also, his name is dumb. Yeah, yeah, Nimrod was a famous biblical hunter, I know, but like. This was the 80s. Bugs Bunny had been a thing for decades, "Nimrod" was already well established as an insult and honestly giving the guy that goofy-ass triangle head and Looney Toons-esque invulnerability is not helping the associations. Like, what the hell were the DoFP folks thinking?! But then again this is same Evil Future Government that decided Rachel's mutant hunter outfit should be a literal goddamn gimpsuit so I think its been well established that their real crime aren't against humanity but fashion.

He's also extremely OP in the worst way. I can't even keep track of how many powers this guy has. And you'd think that might make the fight's interesting, right, like you'll you never know what's going to happen next? No actually it makes everyfight extremely boring because I know exactly what's going to happen next, the X-men are going to attack with something and Nimrod is going to go "Nu-uh, you can't hit me I have my everything shield!" and take them out of the fight with some new weapon he pulled out of his ass. And that's exactly what happens this time. Nightcrawler and Colossus teleport into the fight? Nimrod's tracking systems immediately detect them and he blasts them unconscious. Wolverine does a fastball special?But oh no, a force field! Kitty phases through him? Not only does she not disrupt his systems, she gets knocked back by energy field!

The demonstration of Nimrod's bullshit powers is great here, but I actually wanted to post this because of Rachel's fit. Its so 80s but I kind of adore it. This nonsense continues even after Rogue absorbs Kitty, Nightcrawler and Colossus's powers in a Hail Mary. Don't get me wrong, Rogue kicks ass and its hella entertaining but Nimrod once again is on his bullshit. She punches him into a million tiny pieces and he just reforms himself! Then he teleports out of there because I guess even he knew this fight had dragged on long enough. Which is another thing I hate about Nimrod; they can never actually kill the bastard. He'll just teleport away and come back next time with even more bullshit. It'd be so cathartic if Rogue had finally just smacked him down for good but I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot more of him in the future. The X-men let the Juggernaut go, despite him being a literal criminal, because they've been doing that a lot recently. Unfortunately for them, this time surprise news crews have been behind the fourth wall the whole time like its an episode of Impractical Jokers and now the whole world knows they didn't even try to do their job. And don't give me any "oh they were weak they knew they couldn't taken him" Juggernaut had his psionic bucket hat off and Rachel Summers was right there she could have taken him down with a single thought.

We end the comic with an ominous discussion about the X-men by two members of the Russian Security council.

You can tell its Moscow because of the picture perfect view of St Basil's which magically appears in the window. Also, how the heck am I supposed to take Eyepatch Ivanovich here seriously when he's wearing little red booty shorts?! Anyway, this certainly was an issue of X-men. It started off really fun, then it got kind of generic. Certainly not the worst or most infuriating by any means. Looking forward to next issue!

Edit: I took the comic at face value and wrote that Mount Kilimanjaro was in Kenya. Mount Kilimanjaro is actually in Tanzania, near the Kenyan border, so unless the borders have shifted since 1985, Claremont is an idiot and so am I.

[lord-squiggletits]

Also another reason I think Coptimus > archivist/librarian/etc Orion Pax is because the latter is so fucking boring and passive. Every story with that kind of OP feels so privileged, like yeah I was just some paper pusher ignorant of the outside world content with my life until I looked outside and noticed people are rioting, aren't I so enlightened for deciding to step outside my tower and talk to some gladiator guy? Or like that fucking Orion Pax toy that said he studied history and the works of great intellectuals, like okay then if he's such an academic then why is Megatron the only social writer between them? Why isn't archivist-librarian-historian Orion Pax super enlightened and able to have discussions on equal ground? It COULD be interesting but as far as Hasbro is concerned (and most of the fandom tbh), making Orion Pax a librarian is basically just giving him the most inoffensive job possible that makes him a good guy (he reads books! he's smart! he's an intellectual!) without actually committing to making him involved in society or having any culpability whatsoever for what's going on.

It's not like IDW OP is immune to being ignorant of social issues, but at least he like, is actually out in the city seeing how bad things are, telling Ratchet to open a free clinic in the Dead End, listening to Megatron and Shockwave and so on, foiling attempted terrorist attacks, the works. The idea of an agent of the state questioning the system he's a part of has so much more dramatic potential and gives him a lot more initiative from a storytelling/conflict perspective. If "conflict = story" and the conflict established is "there's a lot of political unrest" then why would you have one of your flagship characters (Orion/Optimus) be some librarian that does nothing but read books and talk to his friend(s) without actually doing anything about it?

Like fuck at least Coptimus actually DID THINGS before the war and wasn't just "yeah I'm a librarian I sort books and have a gladiator friend then one day some Council made me Prime aren't I a good morally flawless definitely not passive or ignorant good guy?" At least being part of the system and thus culpable for some of the pre-war oppression makes Coptimus more involved in the social fabric of the society he lives in. And it makes characters have impressions/opinions of him immediately upon meeting him due to the social weight of being a cop, which is a hell of a lot more interesting than just "everyone respects and listens to Optimus because he's just that good of a leader." A significant part of the Autocracy trilogy is occupied exactly by that, people questioning OP's leadership and saying that they think he won't do anything because he was literally Zeta's right hand man. That's so much more fucking interesting how many times can I say the same thing over and over again. A character who's flawlessly good is boring (and improbable in a world so rife with conflict and suffering), a character who's done bad things and has to deal with the consequences of that is so much more interesting. IF YOU MAKE OPTIMUS UNPROBLEMATIC YOU JUST MAKE HIM BORING BECAUSE IT MEANS HE HAS NO AGENCY BECAUSE NOTHING IS EVER HIS FAULT.

[brodiesato]

“FUCKED UP LIKE A ROCKSTAR, DANCIN' ON A COP CAR, NO ONE IN THE WORLD CAN SAVE ME NOW”

INTRODUCING…

NAME: Brodie DeMarco Sato

GENDER & PREFERRED PRONOUNS: Cis Man {He/Him}

AGE: 31

BIRTHDAY: November 23, 1991

ZODIAC: Sagittarius Sun, Capricorn Rising, Gemini Moon

SEXUALITY & ROMANCE: Heterosexual

FACE CLAIM: Darren Barnet

OCCUPATION: Mechanic/Drug Dealer

HOMETOWN: Denver, CO

CURRENT RESIDENCY: Downtown, Cape May, NJ

CHARACTER PLAYLIST: HERE.

UP NEXT: “BY THE WAY” BY THE RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS

BIOGRAPHY: TW DRUG/ALCOHOL USE, DEATH, FIRE, VEHICLE ACCIDENT

Brodie was a very sensitive yet outgoing kid. His sensitivity wasn't geared in physical pain, but more-so in the ways that made him stand up to the bullies on the playground who picked on the more introverted kids. It was because of this, that he was seen as a leader at the mere age of 4 and also earned him his best friend, Elliot.

As he grew, his teachers and peers favored him for his golden heart and puppy dog smile. His popularity skyrocketed, but he had his mom and dad to thank for the blueprint of his personality. His father, Kenji Sato, was the textbook definition of chivalry and had a very go-getter viewpoint of the world with a good head on his shoulders. His mother, Emily Sato, was always putting others first, walked as if sunshine was beneath her feet, and could make even the coldest of hearts crack a smile. Between his father and mother, Brodie was the golden boy in town. What else would one expect from the county's fire chief and nurse practitioner's boy?

Though he lost his father to a fire when he was only 7, Brodie was forced to grow up as he watched his mother slowly fall apart. At first, she just laid on the couch and stared at the wall for what felt like months on end; Brodie then becoming the caretaker until she was able to go to work. It was strange watching her grieving process change from not wanting to move, to then being nonstop. It felt almost close to normal, that was until she brought home a baby from the hospital. In the blink of an eye, Brodie became a master of many hats; not only stepping up to not let his mom down, but also trying to be the best older brother he could be for the new addition to the Sato family. They were a little broken, but they made it work. And by 'they' I mean Brodie. When Harper needed help on a school project, he was there. When Harper skinned her knee, he was there. Brodie was the constant that showed up when their mother's busy nurse schedule kept her at bay. When the world checked out, Brodie was always there to make sure Harper wasn't alone.

If it wasn't his teammates, then it was Elliot who attempted to get Brodie to live a little. Always doing the right thing and being everyone's walking conscious was tiring after all, but Brodie hadn't strayed from the straight and narrow. Even with the shelved grief and the need to be a good role model and caretaker for Harper, Brodie never stepped out of line. That was, until the senior year homecoming game. Being the captain of the hockey team, it only made sense that he had friends in other sport teams. It was serendipitous that the football team practically paired off with the hockey team in the realm of friendships; the quarterback happening to be none other than Elliot. When they won, the party seemed to get a little out of control. Brodie drank for the first time, but didn't necessarily know when to stop. At least he wasn't as fucked up as his best friend was.

Brodie still plays it back in his head. How he laughed when Elliot mentioned going on the quad together. How Elliot managed to sway him and put the only helmet on him so he can drive. How Elliot's last words were that it was going to be alright, right before they crashed head-on into a tree.

Ultimately, it was just more grief and now guilt that she shelved, but he started to crack. By the time he was in UPenn for his undergrad, Brodie was always high or drunk. He lost his love for hockey, over-trained his body when he barely ate. He became a drug dealer when he dropped out of college, owing someone and then falling into the scheme to pay them back for all the drugs he just 'put on his tab.' He was able to pay the person off, but the money and easy access was too hard to not pass up.

Brodie was able to gather up the strength to get clean.... once.... twice... The relapses hit so hard, he almost gave up before he got into a trade school and became a mechanic. Now living in Cape May, Brodie is trying to navigate being on a tightrope of sobriety under the radar.

EXTRA-EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT HIM!

Brodie is self-destructive. It's a cry for help, but he doesn't want to take the necessary steps on getting help. He's overly cocky, but it's for show. He's used to wearing a mask, seeing that he's been wearing a strong one since he was 7 years of age. Brodie is comical, though he has a tendency of cracking jokes at the wrong time. Fun-loving and a bit of a himbo, the Sato male genuinely is benevolent despite the melancholy hold on his brain. He's protective of those he cares about, though it can be over-bearing. Brodie is dauntless to the degree of craving danger; He loves to drag race in the early AMs of the night life and is actually known for this amongst a specific population of night owls. He tries to keep people at an arm's length because he's petrified of losing people, and tends to hideaway from time to time if it becomes too overwhelming. He loves his coffee black, and though he may seem dull-minded he's actually very street smart. When someone needs help out of a situation, he's a great therapist friend but cannot figure out his own problems. He's just a goofy mess, guys (who really likes women and video games).

PERSONALITY:

+ Easy-Going, Protective, and Charismatic

- Astute, Non-Committal, and Careless

[kartificialdreams]

Breaking

Chapter V

2016

I walk through the building, hushed murmurs dying abruptly as I walk past. I press the elevator button up to my floor and head straight into my office. I throw my head back as I let a long sigh out, headache killing me from the night before. A knock pulls me out from whatever thought was about to invade.

“Come in.”

“Excuse me, sorry to disturbe you ma’am. You have a last minute meeting.” My assistant hangs her head low as if she were terrified to tell me with who.

“Didn’t I cancel all my meetings?”

“You did ma’am, but they were very adamant about meeting with you and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Who?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Someone by the name of Manjiro. He didn’t leave a last name. He said you’d know.”

I look her dead in the eye, as if trying to see if she was just messing with me. I tell her to send him in and basically sit at the edge of my seat. I hadn’t seen Mikey after I had left the gang, wanting to focus on school. I wonder how much he’s changed. A knock is heard once again, signaling he’s coming in.

“Mikey, it’s nice to see you again.” I smiled as we embraced.

“Nice to see you too Y/n. Quite the building you have.”

“Fashion is a growing industry. But I’m sure that’s not what you’re here to talk about now is it?”

“No, not exactly. I came with a business proposal. As you know, Bonten is on the rise.”

“Bonten? You mean the gang that’s involved with gambling, fraud, prostitution, drugs and murder?”

“That one! Anyways, how would you like to be a partner?”

“Mikey you can’t be serious. You can’t come in my office and ask me something like that. Besides don’t you have to run this by the leader?”

“I don’t have to. I am the leader. Y/n, we can help you, maybe take out a competitor or two?”

“Why? Why my business?”

“To be completely honest, we have history, I can trust you. You’re also the only one I know who has access across the world. You’ve made quite the name for yourself Y/n.”

“That’s what happens when you clean yourself up a bit. What’s in it for me?”

“1/2 the cut in profits on transactions made through your business. You’ll also have protection from Bonten, meaning no cops will come sniffing if there was anything happening under their noses. You run business as usual, but you’ll need to open a ‘private manufacturing unit’ specifically for Bonten. Only those with ID’s may enter, we won’t hide anything from you and you’ll have full reports every week. And if some time in the future your lovely heart desires something else, all you have to do is ask and I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

“Mikey, it’s taken me a long time to get to where I am now. If I go down, I’ll drag you and the rest of Bonten down with me. Understand?”

“This is exactly why I wanted to partner with you, you don’t fuck around. I’ll try to keep my executives out of your building. But they will be the ones bringing the reports to you, just in case someone tries hacking into the servers. They will be tasked to bring the reports directly into your hands and your hands only. You and I will have meetings at least 2 times a month to make sure everything is in order.”

“Very well. I do have one request, this stays hidden from Mana and Luna, they’re around. A casual “hi” won’t hurt, but don’t let them know the real reason you’re here.”

“And Mitsuya?”

“The truth, I can never keep things hidden from him anyways.”

“Got it. Oh, and Y/n, there is one more thing I forgot to mention- my executives, a few are familiar faces to you.” He paused, as if he didn’t want to continue. “2 in particular are ones you’re very familiar with. It’s Ran and Rindo Haitani.”

I sat there, trying to keep my temper in check. I nod at him, wanting to finally have alone time. Mikey leaves, the promise to meet again next week pushed to the back of my mind.

“What cruel fate. I’ve steered clear of him for 7 years. And now he’s back.”

The rest of the day goes by fairly calmly. I inform Taka about our new partnership and send in plans to install a new wing to the building. I’m busy trying to line new pieces for the fashion show, I didn’t notice someone had walked in.

“You’re awfully busy.”

I whip my head, startled.

“Waka, hey.” I smiled as I hugged him.

“You didn’t answer your phone so I came to check up on you. I brought take out and soda.”

“You are the bestest friend! I’ve had so much to think about today and my brain feels fried.” I slump onto the couch in my office.

“What’s got that pretty little brain of yours workin over time?” Waka takes the food out and placing it nicely on the table, cracking open the sodas.

“Mikey paid me a visit today. He asked me to partner with him, which I agreed to. But then he mentioned something at the end of the meeting.“

“And that is?”

“His executives, 2 of them are Ran and Rindo.”

Waka starts to choke, veggies shooting out from his mouth.

“He did that on purpose.” He lets a few coughs out. “He knew you’d reject if he told you at the beginning. Sneaky as always Manjiro, very sneaky. What was in it for you?”

“Money, protection, the likes, he even said I could ask for more if I wanted to.”

“What’re ya gonna do if you see Ran?”

“Ignore him the best I can. I would’ve turned it down, but I want to expand more Waka. I’ve worked so hard for this, all for the sake of my family. So if it means I have to see Ran from time to time, then so be it.”

“What will your fiancé say?”

I paused, not even thinking about what he would say. After Ran had abandoned me, Waka and I went to parties more than usual. I eventually met some guy I started hooking up with, that soon turned into us moving in together and finally, getting engaged. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about breaking the engagement off.

“I honestly don’t know. He’s busy with his job, I probably won’t tell him.”

“Bad idea, he’ll find out eventually, he figured out you and I fucked with just one look.”

“True. Hmm, I’ll bring it up before the fashion show.”

“Y/n, if he tries anything, you let me know immediately. You know I’ll do anything to protect you the best I can.” Waka places a hand on my knee.

“Thank you. We should get going, he’ll start to wonder if I’m having an affair if I’m not home soon.”

Waka and I walk down to the garage and part ways. The ride back home, all I can think about is Ran. How am I going to get away from him now? Why does it have to be him of all people? It doesn’t matter, we’re not together anymore and I’ve moved on.

“I’m home!”

Yes, I’ve moved on. Haven’t I? I’m kissing someone else, wearing the ring of someone else, sleeping in the same bed with someone else. My whole life is completely different. So why, even now as I lay next to the man I promised to be with, am I still thinking about Ran?

[goddamnwebcomics]

My Brief Review of Console Girl

When I started riffing this comic, I thought it was going to suck, but now that it’s over...this is a special case. A special case among special cases. This is not the worst webcomic I have ever riffed, but it is one of the laziest and one of the most disgusting ones for sure.

PLOT & WRITING

The comic starts off as an innocent ecchi style comic with the titular (for now) console girl with his boy owner living in the moon. Kevin is a hack who plays video games and skips on school, which isn’t approved by his only other friend, Sarah. Emulie ends up getting into wacky hijinks with Sarah and Kevin as they run from R.O.B. cops and then Emulie turns giant, but after that, once Kevin resets Emulie, we learn that the comic so far has been a simulation, and then the real comic begins as we focus on a resistance group fighting against a console takeover. Emulie returns to simulation a couple of times to see the past events for herself, which is a bit clever, but as a whole this twist of it being a siimulation comes out of nowhere and is fucking stupid. I don’t count everyone having numbers in their names as foreshadowing, because you would expect a stupid futuristic setting to have those.

This comic was made during the era of “supposed cutesy thing becomes fucked up” like Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared and Doki Doki Literature Club, so I guess in order to create interest in his comic, Neda went into that direction. The problem is, the comic continues being silly even in the “real world” for the most part. Characters spout out the most boomer-riffic video game references, and sometimes character may dress up as something obscure or fight by using a game that was released into their respective console but that’s about it. You can find more in-depth references in any Strong Bad Email.

Then we have the fact this comic hates to progress it’s main plot, every other chapter there’s a flashback, or a recap or even something that isn’t FUCKING CANON. Even when the plot progresses, either chapters focusing on it are too short, or characters are arguing about pointless shit, or we get introduced to a new character whose only purpose is to please creator’s fucked up fetishes. You know they’re fucked up when I have more respect towards Kraw after this.

CHARACTERS

This comic has a wide cast of characters only 20% of which are necessary to the plot. Our protagonist is Kevin, he’s a fucking perverted asshole who’s responsible for all the bad things in this comic. As a kid he abused his consoles because he couldn’t git gud. He is a horrible person in general, he’s constantly arguing with his girlfriend and his decisions lead to nothing but pain. Once he’s captured he turns into this edgy anti-video game crusader who then proceeds to rape Emulie with his arm. I say that version of Kevin is more faithful to who he really is than the “Resistance Crusader” of the past. I say he’s Neda’s selfinsert, and Neda is secretly angry at the video games making him a worthless evolutionary deadend.

Then you have the second protagonist I guess, Sarah. Sarah was the best character in this comic because she was always calling out Kevin’s shit, but after getting the main focus for the rest of this comic, she turned into an ANGRY resistance leader and a walking JoJo reference. Also because of the fact she fights consoles, she becomes the Console Girl. Did Neda intend this from the beginning what with Sarah being next to the title in the first chapter? Nah, he’s not that clever. At least Sarah has more personality to her than Emulie. When Emulie is not being a boring ass “oh dear oh my” girl, she’s a tantrum throwing manchild who wants everyone to live in harmony.

Then there’s the antagonists, N.O.S and S.N.O.S. N.O.S. continued to be a likable character in this comic until the end, not only does she have clever powers she also hates Kevin but is willing to help Resistance out of spite because she hates her sister. S.N.O.S. is a boring villain who hates humans because Kevin beat her up. She basically took all of N.O.S’s boring traits and revved them up to maximum. She hates humans and makes them play for their food which is probably a commentary on something but it’s also really boring and makes this setting seem lame.

Then we have the rest of the cast, the only notable thing about them is that many of them are little people. Petite started off as the Resistance’s other console, who is controlled by a big guy named Tank, then we start seeing more little Consoles like Virtual Boy girl who calls her owner, another big guy “daddy”, and then you have Game Gir who has eating disorder for no reason and then there’s a bunch of mini-consoles. I don’t like making accusations but considering how little Neda cared about making this comic I’m going to say he’s a lolicon. My proof is all the weird relationships and the fact there’s a Vibibi ass shot in the “Beach comic” special. That’s what this comic ultimately is, a fetish comic. Other characters in this comic include strawman sore loser who later joins the human alliance, perverted old man professor and bunch of people for the resistance. None of them are well-developed, let’s move on.

ART

Neda originally drew this comic, his style was coarse and ugly but it was passable, then, Neda hired an artist named Raf for a few chapters. Her style is decent but not perfect, she overexaggerates in anime features and gives certain characters massive black bags of eyes that make them look like they haven’t slept for weeks. You’ll miss her art however once Neda begins drawing again. His style is bolder and every character gets weird Moomin snouts when they’re seen from a far. Sarah also looks much uglier in his style, not to mention after the comic starts going by more Webtoon-ish format, we start getting off-model closeups.

What is common for both artists however is that they like copypasting a lot. Often entire panel sections are copypasted with only one panel changed to indicate a sudden passage of time. The copypasting gets downright offensive at one point when a fighting sequence is copypasted two and a half times. This made comic seem extra lazy, and on top of all the short chapters, fetish bait, constant recaps and Jojo references, I knew that Neda was on the verge of giving up, and gave up he did.

FINAL WORDS

Well, Console Girl ended on a fucking beach fanservice comic and we haven’t seen the comic since. Neda is likely either in a looney bin or arrested, or, realistically, hidden somewhere in the corners of the internet. This comic got worse as it went on. It felt like it did everything wrong, and successfully pissed off everyone who read it. Those who wanted to see the innocent ecchi comic, those who wanted to see a cyberpunk resistance story and those who wanted to see funny vidya references. One thing I can credit Neda for is the fact he knew when to give up.

[deangirldisease]

this is how i pick my favorite characters in everything. the smaller circles are for favs from media thats just a bit shit such as spn and tvd ❤️

[hintsofhoney]

alright, *cracks fingers*. so. I’ve written up a transcript just to lay it all out for myself and get the most important parts. listen, everyone. for all intents and purposes and legal reasons, THIS WAS A DREAM. alright? I dreamt this. and he is literally the nicest human being ever so I don’t want to just like... put our whole convo out there like that, but I think he said some stuff that was important for people to hear so... here we go

my *dreamt* zoom call with thee crowley below the cut

The first five minutes (of my dream) was just a bunch of introduction stuff and talking about my favorite Supernatural seasons which eventually led to him telling me how they filmed the Season 8 finale (which they did over the span of three days, and in between takes the crew members were like dead silent, as to keep the moment going, which Mark thought was really cool. Said it was one of his favorite things they did on Supernatural.) Anyways, he eventually asked me if I had any questions, so, I’ll start there.

MARK: So, do you have any questions you want to ask me about aaaaaannyyyythingggg? 

ME: Um, I guess the number one thing I wanna know… um, so, I know you can’t speak for Dean and I don’t want to talk about Dean because you’re not Jensen, but, there’s like a lot of questions I guess or subtext or whatever concerning Dean’s sexuality and what not, but I want to know about demon Dean and Crowley’s relationship and if there was, I don’t know, anything like, any implied –

MARK: Well I think – I think you’re talking about… there’s a massive difference between sex and love. There’s a massive difference between, um, well, they can intertwine perfectly, that’s not the issue, but I mean you would believe with all the things that Crowley did for the Winchesters, that he was – that he very much loved Sam and Dean or loved who they are or what they are. To reduce it to, you know, a crush, or to something that – I mean, I don’t know, I think Crowley is very probably pansexual more than anything else; I don’t think anything phased him. I think, that’s why the whole stuff with Lucifer and licking the floor was kind of really stupidly boring for me because Crowley did weirder and crazier things on his own. I mean, it became this joke of trying to humiliate somebody who can’t be humiliated. There’s nothing you can humiliate Crowley with. So, that never sort of made sense, that was just a sort of writer’s glitch of thinking, “oooh, this would be funny to knock him down into subservience” and that’s what he does on a Wednesday, I mean it’s like the most un-inspiring thing. I think so much is projected onto the relationship between, certainly the four main characters, um, and, you know, look, getting comfortable with one’s sexuality and one’s identity is a massively complicated things, and if you want to live vicariously through what you believe people’s identity is and you can relate to that, great!  Who cares? I mean, can I be absolutely honest? Apart from – what I do care about, you know, don’t ever take this and piece me or misquote it, because it’s very, very specific – um, somebody stopping somebody being able to express their own identity or whatever is an issue for me. That will always be an issue for me. Um, we should all be treated equally, and we all have the rights to believe and follow those things that we wish to follow, but to project relationships onto characters is an odd thing to do. I mean, it’s wishful thinking in a lot of ways, I mean, actually it’s quite… it’s quite reasonable because in the past if you think about it, if you ask your parents or anyone else, the only way sexuality was used was to, uh, literally demonize somebody. It was only ever used to say somebody was bad because this who they’re in love with. You know, that’s, that’s the thing. And it’s a massive change in the world that we’re moving towards, I should say, uh – a lack of consequence for who one loves, apart from the obvious consequences of human nature. You know, political consequences for who one loves – I’ve just watched Pete Butteigieg being, you know, sitting in congress with his husband there with him; that’s the first time that’s ever happened in United States congress and I’m so proud of that. Not just because the man is gay and happily married – that’s not even the issue for me, it’s because he’s the best man for the job and one of the smartest people on the planet. You know, it’s like using sexual templates, as they were, or gender templates as they are, or orientation templates as they are, we always use to disclude people from things. They were always used to discriminate. You know, labeling somebody was a way of discrimination. And where as labels are very important, to ones self, and they’re very important politically and they’re very important socio-economically and they’re very important in all those aspects, I yearn for a time when nobody gives a damn. I really do. But I mean, we have to go through so much to get there. I mean, let’s be honest, you can’t, you know, right the wrongs of hundreds of years of oppression in 20 minutes by saying, “let’s all move forward”. It just doesn’t work that way, it never has. But there’s a responsibility there, that if you’re going to represent, that you represent all. That you don’t just represent you. So, one has to be careful with a television program or, or, you know, Misha or myself, or, not speaking for the boys, but just generally, um, you have to be careful that what you advocate is inclusive, not disinclusive. Not excluding people... and it’s so hard to frame these conversations, that they’re equitable, it’s so hard to do that. And so, you know, we spend years pointing out the inequity and the injustice and the unfairness of the whole situation, and… I don’t know if the trick is to rise above, or, uh, maybe it’s as simple as love and coming together as a human race and make it very difficult for people to discriminate and exclude based on gender, race, color, religion, any of the subsets of humanity that we’ve decided we have. So, I think personal responsibility is the most important thing, but if one is in a position of power on a TV show, you got to remember what you’re representing, that you have a, you know, you have to cover all or cover none. So, you know, but if you stick to a story and you have a story about a person or two people and their journey, that’s shining light on things. If you try to advocate for all, I think it becomes a little more complicated. Does that make sense?

so, i just feel like he said some important things there, but like I also don’t really understand what he’s getting at really, y’know? oh! also, he didn’t watch the finale lmao 

also! there’s this:

MARK: Because if you come down on one side or another, you’re admitting the sides, and that has its own political ramifications. If you push the ball up in the air and say, “you decide”, I don’t think that’s copping out. I think that’s, maybe not fulfilling everybody’s expectations, or not fulfilling everybody’s hopes, but at least you’re getting the question asked. You know, at least you’re getting the question asked. At least people are relating to it and going, “well, what if?”. Because it’s all “what if”, I mean, it’s a TV show, so it’s “what if”, you know? It’s not Misha being in love with Jensen, I mean as much as he loves Jensen, I don’t think that’s his thing – I mean you never know – but I’m saying yet again, I don’t exclude anything from anybody (I LITERALLY CAN’T BELIEVE HE SAID THIS LMAO). But to force my opinion or my identity belief upon a situation has a cost. It may be right, it may be absolutely right, and it may be necessary in many, many cases. But, in that circumstance, I think… there are a lot of people in the world that say that Jesus, for example, was anti-homosexual and that he was – and none of that is true, and none of that is provable in the New Testament, and I’m not talking about Leviticus and I’m not talking about early Bible and I’m not talking about the fact that more than 25,000 words have been changed in the King James edition and all of this stuff, but these things that people hold so sacred, the confusion that arises from that is being told that a man loving a man or a woman loving a woman or a man loving a man and a woman or whatever combination being there is either right or wrong because you’re being told by a pastor or the leaders of your church, is a very difficult thing to break down. I think what you have to do is at least put it out there so it’s visible, and so it becomes less and less deniable. And you know, people change over years, that’s the trouble with youth, is shit doesn’t move fast enough. “I need a decision now!”, and unfortunately, when you’re dealing with centuries of prejudice and centuries of un-enlightenment, I think that sometimes the best thing to do is reach as many people as possible and pose the question. And sometimes it’s essential to make a statement, absolutely, no question. It is essential to make a stand, in some circumstances. But to polarize a TV show, can be very disingenuous to those who need to go ask their own questions, who need to go say, “well, where does Jesus say this is wrong?” you know, if that’s your beliefs.

he also said, when we went off on a tangent about doom patrol:

MARK: There are issues that are being addressed here [on Doom Patrol] that are not being addressed on other shows, and yet again, we have the format, and I don’t know that Supernatural ever had the format because it was on the CW.

anywho, in conclusion, fuck the cw.

also, again, for all intents and purposes this was a dream I had :)))))))

[autisticandroids]

Okay so this was a while back but im preety sure you had mentioned an au of yours where dean is a serial killer and cas successfully stalks him but i don't think you talked about it more than that and i just really want to hear a bit more bc that idea sounds so tastefully fucked up

okay so. weeks later i finally end up answering this ask. it inspired this post btw. anyway spn is a show that's like. all about justifications, as i said in the post inspired by this ask. it's about having no choice and doing what you have to do. and like there is the phantasy embedded in it, a phantasy that is both indulged and punished. but most importantly it's justified. the monsters are super strong to show how brave our heroes are for fighting them, the main characters let out great wails of grief every time their lady loves are violently ripped from them (even though now they are free to do whatever they want), the narrative twists to show our heroes as correct whatever they do. the fantasy (of being allowed to enact violence, of being free from feminine "control," of being right) comes first. the material construction of the universe of supernatural comes afterward. whatever the fantasy is, the universe of supernatural will provide material conditions to justify its acting-out.

and what this means is that our protagonists, dean in particular, are constantly doing just horrific things, which in any other circumstance would be unconscionable. but the universe of supernatural provides justification for these acts. the point of my serial killer au which i think about so so so much is to ask the question: what if these justifications melted out from under their feet? what if dean was left holding nothing but a lie and the weight of everything he's done?

therefore, the premise of my au is such (under the cut because this baby is long):

john and mary winchester, in the mid seventies, joined a doomsday cult known as the men of letters. the men of letters were rather unusual for a doomsday cult, in that they believed that the apocalypse could be prevented by human behavior. this started as correct living, correct worship, yadda yadda, the kind of behavior and thought control that cults are known for, but with the justification of: if you don't do this, the world will end. eventually, this escalated to human sacrifice. the men of letters managed to untraceably kill two homeless people in the late seventies. but they eventually fell apart. however, a month after john and mary left the men of letters (mostly john's choice, mary still believed), mary died in a house fire. john took it as a sign from god that actually, the men of letters were right, and the world would end unless john himself did something about it. so he took some of the (intensely numerological) theology of the men of letters. and he worked out his own formula. and he applied it to the yellow pages. and started ritualistically killed people to prevent the apocalypse, with his two sons in the back of the car.

now, obviously, this is some kind of grief induced temporary madness on john's part, shaped by the mental abuse he suffered in the men of letters. but the thing is, once you've killed a couple of people to prevent the apocalypse. well. there's this thing called the sunk costs fallacy. john wasn't gonna question his own beliefs after that.

and he raised his boys to believe it, too, or at least he raised dean to. they didn't tell sam what they did until he was twelve, and sam didn't buy it, tried to call the cops on them several times but in the end, they always prevented him. eventually sam ran off to stanford, where he now lives under a cloud of guilt that he's too loyal to his family to rat them out.

john died a few years back of a heart attack, but dean is convinced it's because he messed up a ritual two weeks before it happened, so it pushed him further into this belief system.

dean's killings (and john's before him) are ritualistic and distinctive, obviously the same killer each time. but they happen anywhere in the united states, seemingly at random, there are inconsistent amounts of time between each one (sometimes as short as days, sometimes as long as years), and there is no particular victim profile. obviously, since our killers are following an arcane mathematical formula to make their choices for them, but the police don't know that.

castiel novak is an unemployed shut-in with a small inheritance which he's living off of, a cryptography degree, and an obsession with all things morbid. he spends most of his time on the reddit true crime forums, playing amateur sleuth. by complete chance, he happens to recognize one of the symbols frequently used in corpse displays by the so-called sioux falls satanic slaughterer (so named because the first time three of his victims were in the same part of the country, it so happened that they were all in sioux falls, south dakota. this was in the late eighties.) as being mostly only used by a little known cult group called the men of letters, which dissolved in the mid eighties.

he only notices this because, as a teen, he had a special interest in cults and fringe religious groups. the men of letters weren't a particularly notable or well known phenomenon; they were small, and a lot like every other cult that formed during the seventies cult boom. (no outsider ever heard about the human sacrifice; there were rumors, of course, but they were garbled, sensationalized, and mixed up with satanic panic fodder.)

(the men of letters' two sacrifices were nothing particularly romantic or fantastical. they first lured panhandler josie sands back to their compound with promises of food and a warm bed when she admitted she couldn't get a bed at a shelter, and was thinking of getting caught shoplifting just so she could be under a roof in the county jail. the men of letters' leader, a man who took on the name alistair, forced his inner circle to dress in the ceremonial black robes he had given them when he initiated them into his nearest and dearest, and which his wife had sewn out of old bed sheets and dyed black with home made oak gall dye. these robes still left black smudges on the wearer's skin occasionally if they sweated too much. josie was laid, bound, on the altar, a slapdash thing constructed over the course of two days from scrap plywood and a couple of milk crates. a rich red tablecloth purchased at macy's for $3.99 hid its ugliness and gave it grandeur. alistair attempted to kill the struggling miss sands by bringing a sharpened kitchen knife down on her bosom and piercing her heart, but, having never killed a human or even slaughtered an animal before, was unaware of the problem presented by the human ribcage. after rather ineffectually poking at the area beneath sands' bosom with his knife while she shrieked in pain and terror for about ninety seconds, alistair tried a different tack, and slit her throat, which worked just fine, and she bled out quite nicely. the second and final victim of the men of letters was a local vagrant named larry ganem, an older gentleman who walked with a limp. he was lured back to the compound in approximately the same manner as sands, but instead of being bound, he was fed stew laced with sleeping pills. even if alistair hadn't slit his throat, he wouldn't have woken up. it's actually arguable whether he was still alive at time of sacrifice; mary winchester (eight months into her first pregnancy), who, as a member of the inner circle, was in attendance, actually tried to take ganem's pulse as he lay on the altar (now covered by a different tablecloth; the red one had turned stiff with sands' blood and been subsequently burned) and found nothing, so it is entirely possibly only sands' death can be directly laid at alistair's feet, and ganem's is the fault of mrs. ellen harvelle, who prepared the laced stew. regardless, these two deaths are lessons in the nature of human evil: it is very rarely skilled, suave, or smooth. it's often slapdash, half-hearted, and just plain incompetent. but that makes it no less grisly. alistair may have begun to drink his own kool-aid, as it were, and escalated this far out of genuine belief that the apocalypse was coming and it was up to him to stop it, but it is far more likely that he sensed the imminent collapse of his little empire, and wanted to bind his subjects to him through the horrors of shared guilt, considering two lives a small price to pay for the continued loyalty of his inner circle. and the tactic worked: the men of letters didn't start to collapse in earnest until almost four years later. perhaps if alistair had continued the killings, the men of letters could have lasted for far longer, maybe even up until the present day. but it seems that alistair, a psychiatrist by training and unused to violence, simply didn't have the stomach for it. unlike, say, john winchester, who before his time with the men of letters had done a two year tour in vietnam, during which he had killed three living, thinking human beings with the american government's go-ahead.)

anyway. castiel is the first person, ever, to make the connection between the men of letters and the sioux falls satanic slaughterer. and once that connection is made, castiel begins to research the men of letters far more in-depth. and he notices something: the theology of the men of letters was intensely numerological, filled with patterns, significant numbers, and even spiritual equations.

castiel thinks of the seemingly random selection of the slaughterer's victims, and has an epiphany.

he cracks all his fingers, and gets coding.

six months. it takes castiel six months to discover an equation that could fit the slaughterer's pattern. it's complex, but also clearly based on several of the men of letters' holy numbers, and accounts for every single one of the killings. it also suggests that there should have been two or three more deaths scattered across the years, but more than likely those did happen, it's just that they weren't reported as part of the slaughterer's portfolio.

but much more importantly, castiel's model can also make predictions. there will be two killings, fifteen days apart, in a city seven hours' drive away, six weeks from now.

so castiel waits. and he books a hotel room. and two months later, he's waiting outside 217 oak street when a shadowy figure climbs up a tree and lets itself into the upstairs window.

dean winchester is feeling particularly all alone in the world when he breaks into maisey banks' home (217 oak street). his father has been dead for half a decade, and he hasn't spoken to his baby brother for twice that. it's not like this whole grizzly saving the world business makes him a lot of friends. so once he's done killing maisey (which is easy, she was ninety three and dying of cancer anyway. she doesn't even wake up when he slits her throat) and arranging her corpse in the appropriate manner, with prayers and sigils, he turns around. and sees a man standing behind him.

smiling slightly.

as he watches dean gut this old woman.

dean freezes.

the man takes a step forward.

"you're very attractive for a serial killer who's been operating since the eighties."

dean is silent.

"family business, is it?"

silence continues.

"i'm not here to report you to police. i'm just here to see if my algorithm worked right."

and dean finally breaks his silence: "what the hell is wrong with you?"

what's fun here is that dean knows (or rather "knows") that he isn't a serial killer. so he finds what cas is doing, this amoral serial killer stormchasing, morally repugnant. because cas has no way of knowing he isn't a regular serial killer.

there's also the fact that that cas proceeds to flirt with him. aggressively. and follows him back to his motel.

but the thing is that dean is all alone in the world. and as cas continues trailing him around, he starts getting, well, flattered. and feeling a little bit less alone.

it doesn't take very long before they fall into bed. even if cas is an amoral stalker with a fetish for what dean considers a distasteful yet necessary vocation.

so. they fall into bed. they fall in love. they make a little life together, in dean's big sexy car. dean tries to explain to cas that he's saving the world. that these people's lives are a necessary price to pay. and cas seems to listen.

of course, castiel doesn't believe a word of it. but he's found that he likes dean. really likes him. and he realizes that the collapse of dean's belief system would destroy him.

so he sets about becoming as complicit in it as possible.

even to the extent where, when dean is hit by a car and ends up into the hospital a day before one killing is meant to take place, castiel agrees to take on the job. (he doesn't actually kill anyone, obviously. but he does use his extensive skill with computers to create three fake newspaper articles which make it look like he has.)

but five years later, something goes wrong. really, really wrong. dean miscalculates the formula. and by the time he checks his work, the actual date of the next kill, as demanded by the formula, has passed. in fact, so have three others. and the world didn't end.

dean collapses. he hyperventilates. all those people. all those people. for no reason. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people.

cas seems totally unfazed. dean stares at him in shock. but cas just takes dean in his arms, and whispers in his ear: "oh, dean, i never believed in the equation. i love you no matter what you've done."

and dean buries his face in cas' chest.

[whumpinggrounds]

All Caught Up

woohoo here for day 1 of @whumptober2021 with some superhero/sidekick content :) as i’m sure you’ll figure out, this is for the barbed wire part of the prompt

tagging @whumpy-writings, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed :)

CW: barbed wire, (duh), blood, field medicine, cuts, pain, crying, sidekick whump, environmental whump (kinda??)

The mission is going well, as far as August can tell. He’s been relegated to recon, which is a nice way of saying that he’s spending the night running circles around the action. Beck, ever the diplomatic leader, makes sure to talk up the importance of it, emphasize how August is keeping them safe by watching everyone’s back. August, young and green though he might be, is smart enough to know that it’s a little less dramatic than all that. At least he’s contributing, August tells himself. Mercer, his fellow trainee, is back at the compound with the medic girl, Valerie. Perhaps it’s only because August’s power is more useful, but he’d like to pretend it’s a little deeper than that.

By his fifteenth lap around their perimeter, August has to call his wishful thinking what it is. He’s not any more capable than Mercer, and certainly he’s less useful than Valerie. He’s just convenient for the current mission, which, by the way, he doesn’t even get to know about. After just a few minutes of the task, he has to admit what he’s really doing, which is running pointless circles around a warehouse in the dark, keeping his eyes open for anyone suspicious.

“What kind of suspicious person should I be looking for?” August had asked, overloaded on adrenaline as Beck and Donovan briefed him on the mission. Beck had nodded at the question, but Donovan had looked nothing short of disgusted.

“We’ll be at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city in the middle of the night. Anyone shows up, they’re suspicious. Is that simple enough for you?”

After weeks of training with him, August was well used to Donovan’s digs, but hearing it in front of Beck made him flush like it was the first time. He ducked his head, cringing from the friendly pat Beck tried to land on his shoulder.

“Don’s just stressed,” Beck had explained with an apologetic smile. August had forced a smile. If that was true, Donovan’s spent the past several weeks stressed, every minute of every day.

The memory of the conversation cheers August, just a little. It reminds him that he’s out here, jogging easy laps around the warehouse, instead of inside, within range of Donovan’s caustic comments. At a steady, sustainable lope, August cuts through the clear, slightly cool night air like a knife. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, including a mask pulled down over his face that hides his spiky, strawberry blonde hair. When he first dressed out like this, August had been tempted to ask what would happen if someone thought he looked suspicious, skipping around dressed completely in black. Before he got the words out, though, he imagined Donovan’s withering response, and Beck’s awkward pity. August decided it was better just to keep his mouth shut. Now he focuses on watching the world around him, scanning alleyways and empty roads in widening circles. It’s easy, meditative, the most familiar motion August knows.

Around him, the night is thick and silent. His footsteps echo down quiet streets, only the sound of buzzing streetlights and distant sirens there to keep him company. Of all the sketchy parts of the city, August wouldn’t have picked the warehouse district for a criminal hotspot – most of these places are legitimate shipping contract, complete with a rent-a-cops posted outside their chain link fencing. This building is on the edge, though. August examines it on his closer loops, trying to glean from the outside what must be going on within. He has a lot to learn, and it’ll take him twice as long if Donovan and Beck won’t explain things to him outright.

They’ve been in the area almost an hour when a new noise makes August’s ears prick up. Something rattles in one of the side streets, a way that’s been empty the last three times August checked it. Tightening his circle, August trots toward the sound, not sure whether he should hope for a stray dog, or something a little more exciting.

As he draws closer, August tries to note the ways the alleyway might’ve changed, but he just hasn’t been paying enough attention in all this quiet. There’s a bottle, gleaming empty, in the center of the alley, which may not have been there before. Slowing to a walk, August scans both sides of the way carefully, making sure to check the window sconces above him. He gets to the street on the other side, ready to give up, when he sees him. Across the way, there’s a man watching him – dark clothes, shifty eyes. Their eyes lock, and August feels his heart rate pick up.

Before he can say anything or start to move, the other man is turning and running. Despite himself, a smile spreads across August’s face. Perfect.

Springing into action, August throws himself into the chase. After all the casual jogging, it feels so good to run – muscles firing at top speed, peak efficiency. The world blurs past his face as August’s legs pump beneath him, fine and strong. Fully confident in his abilities, August charges forward, fighting the urge to grin.

Up ahead, the stranger doesn’t look back. Presumably, he can hear August’s footsteps, catching up to him in leaps and bounds. The guy darts into a nearby building, dodging through dilapidated rooms, no doubt as a last-ditch attempt at evasion. Smirking, August tears after him.

The only thing that keeps the man out of August’s reach are the doorways and minor obstacles that block August’s path. He has to slow down to dodge, and the stranger pulls ahead again, fleeing out the back door a few precious yards before August. Growling, August hurls himself forward again, springing off the bottom steps of the house. He takes two massive strides and then –

And then August is on the ground, for seemingly no reason. Heart pumping hard, adrenaline surging through his veins, August tries to bounce back to his feet without even checking what might be wrong. That’s when the pain hits.

It’s stinging, at first, in his legs, and then a strange, metallic rattling sound. August lies still, brain still trying to catch up to what exactly is going on. Slowly, tentatively, he tries to separate one leg from the other, and then sucks in a breath as the tearing pain sharpens. Peering down, he whimpers as the source of his agony is revealed.

A bunch of old, rusty strands of barbed wire are wrapped around his legs. He must’ve run into them, almost full speed. If they were stapled to something before, his momentum must’ve carried him straight through, but it’s just as likely that the coils were just sitting there. Either way, the wire is now wrapped tight around his legs, digging in with every little motion he tries to use to escape.

Okay. Okay. August tries to keep his breathing level, but it’s hard. It’s getting shaky. Okay, he tells himself, just, just sit up-

But sitting up moves the wires, makes them tear at his skin in new and agonizing ways. Hissing through his teeth, August gives up for a second, lies panting on the ground like a landed fish. The weight on his legs makes the barbs dig in all the deeper. Whining, August pushes himself up on his elbows and, fighting pain, reaches back to try to pull the damn thing off. Every single motion makes the barbs dig deeper, rip and tear at August’s skin like they have teeth and independent, vicious will.

Despite his gritted teeth, his clenched fists, his desperate attempts to control himself, tears leak from August’s eyes. Angrily he swipes them away, panting through the waves of stinging pain, trying to think. He needs to…he needs to…he needs to get upright, so he can untangle himself.

The thought of standing, of all the maneuvering he’ll need to do, puts a sob in August’s throat. He just wants it to stop hurting. Adrenaline is draining from his system, leaving him with helpless, useless pain. August wants someone to come help him – but even if Donovan and Beck are out looking for him, he has no way of knowing when they’ll find him. Besides, he’s a full-on adult. He’s supposed to be a superhero. He’s supposed to help on this mission, not hinder. August needs to fix this himself.

Drawing in a long, unsteady breath, August steels himself, eyes closed. He can’t fix anything from his current position, facing the ground and unable to see just how bad the knotting is. Trying to stand is going to dig the barbs even deeper into his thighs and calves. Flipping over on his back will tangle him further in the loose strands of wire. There’s no good option, but he can’t just lie here on his face and let the barbs bury themselves in his skin, hoping someone finds him soon.

Gritting his teeth, August makes his move fast, giving himself no time to chicken out. Throwing his body to the side, he flips himself onto his back, dragging the strands of wire with him.

The pain is blinding. Either the wire is still attached to something, or its own weight resisted August’s move – whatever it is, the wire wrapped around his legs drags hard against August’s flesh. Caught off guard, August screams, a harsh, ragged sound that echoes loud into the night. He screams just once, and then bites down savagely on his cheek, pressing a fist to his mouth to muffle his sobs. Below the waist, his pants grow wet with blood.

Fuck. Fuck. It hurts so bad his body shakes with his tears. It hurts. Inside his head, August is wailing, but on the outside, all he can do is lie on the ground shaking, pressing his fist so hard against his teeth that his knuckles split and bleed.

Fuck. Fuck. Just breathe. He has to breathe. He has to breathe, and then he has to get it together, and then he has to fix this.

After a few minutes of regaining his composure, August sits up gingerly. In the dim glow of flickering streetlights, he looks at the mess wound tight around his legs. Just seeing it makes his stomach drop. He has no tools with him, nothing that could be used to cut spiky steel wire. August will have to sit here and peel each piece away from his skin by hand, even as tugging at one strand pulls another strand tighter.

It's going to be agony. But August doesn’t have another choice. Already, his pants are damp, and it won’t be long before a puddle starts to form. He can’t just sit here and weep until his mentors come to save him.

With one shaking finger, August tries to trace the wire, to figure out where and how to start. Eventually, he abandons that idea – he’s held by at least two, maybe three separate pieces of wire, and they’re all twisted together, a chaotic tangle that engulfs his legs in too many different places. Locking his jaw together and vowing that he won’t scream, August sets out to free himself.

It feels like it takes forever. A few times, August wishes dizzily to pass out from blood loss, or pain, but though the barbs cut deep, he’s not losing a dangerous amount of blood. The pain, rather than knocking him out, seems determined to keep him inescapably, unbearably present, aware of every little agony that razor wire can cause. Every shift, every tug, every careful little motion sends searing pain reverberating through his body.

Driven to distraction by the pain, by gritting his teeth and reducing his screams to grunts, August casts around him, finally landing on an old cardboard box collapsing in on itself nearby. With greedy fingers he hauls it to himself, folds it into a packet as thick as a wallet, and stuffs it in his mouth. Cringing from the taste of earth and mold and damp, August draws in a difficult breath around the mouthful and then attempts a particularly hard yank.

Head falling back, August yowls into his makeshift gag, biting down so hard he chokes on his trapped tongue. Coughing, crying, keening into the cardboard like a wounded animal, August works an especially tight strand away from his calves, not letting himself stop, no matter how painful or loud the going is.

When the loop is finally loose, August lets his teeth creak apart. His jaw aches from the clenching, and his teeth have worn deep, blurred impressions in the old cardboard. His hands are trembling, stained with blood from his legs and from where he’s cut his palms heaving at the wire entrapping him. Swiping a bloody hand across his mouth, August tries to get his breath back, all the while moaning, letting out little repetitive whimpering cries, like an animal caught in a trap and begging for aid. Distantly, he’s surprised at himself – he’s never heard these little pleading whines before and wouldn’t have thought it was something he would do. He’d always thought of himself as a yeller, before, someone who outright bellowed their pain. Tonight, he’s timid and pathetic as a child.

By the time Beck and Donovan find him, August is working on the last round of wire, surrounded by the bloody remnants of his prior successes. He’s too exhausted and pain-sick to focus on anything but freeing himself, so he isn’t alerted to the presence of the other supers until he hears Beck’s murmur. “Oh, fuck.” The leader sounds horrified, sick. “Oh, fuck, August, what happened?”

Too weary to have dignity, August just opens his mouth and lets the cardboard fall out, hands dropping to his sides and away from the barbed wire still stuck in his legs. “Saw som’n watchin’ the warehouse.” It’s been so long since he tried to talk that August isn’t sure why he’s slurring – maybe exhaustion, maybe the pain. Maybe because he’s been biting down so hard on cardboard his jaw feels like it won’t work right ever again. “Trieda chase ‘em. Didn’ see…didn’ see the wire.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Don’ know. Feels like…a long time.”

August looks up at Beck with total, hopeless, bottomless despair. Swallowing hard, Beck drops to his knees beside August, hand slipping down to his toolbelt. In seconds, he has a pair of wire cutters out and ready, and August feels hysterical laughter well within him at the thought of how easy this all would’ve been if only Beck had been around.

From another street floats a familiar, four note whistle. Beck replies in kind through his teeth as he brings the clippers to rest against the wire. August grits his teeth, steeling himself for the snap, the sudden retraction of the coils. Hesitating, Beck peers at him. “This…this could hurt.”

“’ve peeled…plen’y of it off m’self,” August grits out. “Jus’…hurry.” He drags in a shaky breath and wills himself to be brave. “…please.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, August remembers the cardboard too late. Without it, he lets an agonized grunt escape his lips as the wire cutters sever the last loop. Even the minute relaxation of his newly released legs is enough to jerk cruelly on the barbs embedded in his thighs. Fresh tears spring to his eyes beneath his mask, and August wonders wretchedly if Beck can see them.

If Beck does see his youngest trainee crying, he’s good enough not to say anything about it. When August peeks through slitted eyes, he sees his leader bent over the wire, focusing hard, drawing each barb out carefully and trying not to jostle as he does.

It hurts only a little less than August’s work on himself, but it’s over blessedly quick. When Beck finally sits back on his heels, August is left panting and bloody, but finally free. For a long moment he just sits there, leaning back on his elbows, trying to catch his breath. Opening his eyes, he discovers that sometime in the last few minutes, Donovan arrived, and is now staring at him, green eyes unreadable under his mask.

“August was trying to chase down a possible spy and ran into some razor wire.” Beck’s voice is low, distracted. “Maybe night vision goggles next time? Or-”

“Or the trainee learns not to run into shit like fences, walls, and goddamned barbed wire.”

“Don-”

“Can’t teach common fucking sense, Beck.” Donovan snorts. “Or maybe you can, but you shouldn’t waste your time.”

Letting his head drop, August bites his lip hard to avoid dissolving into tears. He’s tried so hard to be brave. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a wavery, exhausted whisper. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a long silence from his two mentors. “Come on, Donovan.” Beck sounds tired. “He’s lost a fair amount of blood.”

Donovan just grunts, and crosses the courtyard, and scoops August up in an effortless bridal carry. He isn’t especially gentle, but he isn’t especially rough either, and he carries August, bloody and teary and exhausted, all the way home.

[littlewitchwhore]

Okay guys, here is the first short story I'm posting.

TW: Rape, murder, some gore, racism, sexism, homophobia, a critique of the southern US, and christian references.

I do not condone actual rape, murder, racism, sexism, homophobia, etc. This is just fantasy.

And now, I present

The Hunting of Sonya.

It had been three weeks since the executive order was given. Three weeks of running from abandoned shack to drainage pipe to thickets of trees where she might be safe. Three weeks of praying to whatever would listen that she not be found. Tonight, it seems her prayers might not be answered.

Whatever progress social justice and racial equality might have made in the past years has been violently set back. It started with feminist and pro-black movements constantly being undermined by themselves and their lack of cohesion. With no set leaders and ideas, no reliable code of conduct, and no unifying goals, the members had no direction for their justified anger to be aimed at, and nothing to hold them back from extreme measures. The first major riot happened a year ago, when several peaceful protesters were shot by a couple of trigger happy cops. They didn't stay peaceful.

In one of the most gruesome incidents in recent history, those two cops, and a few others with them, were overwhelmed and beaten to death. But the death of those cops was just the tip of the iceberg. Within a month, riots were taking place in every major city in America, with from people on both sides of the argument killing, and burning the homes and business of those they fought against. A civil war seemed inevitable. Then the election happened, as it does every four years, and a very conservative candidate, on a platform of returning the country to a state of peace and prosperity, undertoned with heavy racist and sexist messages, was elected by a narrow majority. Within two weeks, there were soldiers in every city to keep the peace, and strict laws were enacted severely limiting the rights of groups that were deemed to be the aggressors in the conflict; blacks and women. And the new president was cheered, because the bloodshed mostly ended. The laws and military presence, he had always said, were to be removed after a period of time, when the country was stable again.

But after several months, and a couple isolated riots, the laws were not gone. They got worse. Blacks and women stopped being able to gather in groups larger than 5. They stopped being able to purchase and own firearms. They were even stripped of properties and business, since those could be potential staging points for further violent action. Then they stopped being able to vote after a local election put a violent but charismatic thug up as mayor, who then tried to mobilize a whole town to war against the new president. Then came the executive order that stripped citizenship and all rights from blacks and women. Black people were given a week to leave the country or be deported or turned to slaves. Women fared little better, being reduced to honored servants to white men, and bargaining chips in men's deals. In a year, America had gone from the bastion of liberty and social activism to an authoritarian, patriarchal ethno-state. And the rest of the world, being crippled by their own social and economic issues, and being utterly unable to fathom summoning the military might needed to take on the United States, let it happen.

Sonya was unlucky. She had had the misfortune of residing in Louisiana when the order came down. You see, most people had the decency to let the blacks pack up their things and make for the borders and airports. Most empathized with the plight of the now refugees, even. But the south has always been a little backwards, hasn't it? Large groups of would be slavers started patrolling and detaining blacks and lone women who they could snatch up, after all, it was only illegal to do so for a week. So when Sonya and her family had made for the border, they were taken by one of these bands of slavers. Her father had been beaten mercilessly, and killed when he fought back, her younger brother put in chains, and her mother and sister were gangraped in front of her. She would have suffered the same fate, but when they went to strip her, she caught a fat one by surprise and was able to run, handcuffed and clothes torn, into the woods.

She had barely managed to stay ahead of the men chasing her. It took her three days to finally find an old shack that had a rusty saw she used to cut the chain on the cuffs, so she could use her arms, though the cuffs themselves remained tightly around her wrists. She might have been able to saw those off too, had it not been for the owner of the shed finding her. He was not sympathetic. She had actually had to kill him to escape, after he pulled a machete off the wall and tried to kill her. She didn't escape unharmed though, and her leg was badly cut. At the time, she didnt worry about it too much, since she had to get away, but after a week of running and hiding in hovels and drainpipes, she feared infection. It certainly wasn't getting any better, and was starting to smell. And her killing the man made the men chasing her all the more obsessed with finding her. Now, she wasn't just a 'little nigger whore who needs to learn her place,' as one of them had said, she was a violent, murdering runaway slave.

Now, she finally had a chance to rest. She had made her way out of the more populated areas and was close to the bayou. She figured if there was a chance at finding help from other black folks, it would be in the places the white folk didn't like to go. Besides, her cousin Tyrell was probably still around the area, he always liked to fight and wouldn't have left. At least, that's what she hoped. She was hiding in another drainage pipe beside a small highway. It was raining, and the pipe was half flooded, but she hadn't seen but two trucks all day, so she felt safer and more comfortable than she had in a year.

She had just closed her eyes for a minute, hoping for some sleep, when she heard the engine approaching. It was a truck, by the sound of it, and it was moving slowly. It stopped very close to where she was hiding. Panic shot through her like a blade of ice. How could they have found her? Wasn't she well hidden? They never found her in a drainpipe before! She got very still, and listened intently while being poised to spring from her hiding spot and run as fast as her badly wounded leg would allow into the woods nearby, just across the pasture she was next to.

A door slammed, and a very angry sounding man's voice was soon heard berating his truck for its many faults as her went about adjusting something under the hood. After a few moments, the man cursed again and determined it was the battery that was the issue. Another moment passed, and the rain let up, letting Sonya hear things clearly. There was quiet, then a door opened, and the man said, “Hey Bubba, i'm broke down 'bout 15 minutes outta Reeves, down up on 113... Yea, daggum battery bit it 'gain, third time this week. You think you could come on up this way and gimmie a little ol' jump? Alright, well I 'preciate that, brother... yea, i'll see you soon... Yea, see you then.”

Sonya relaxed a little, fairly certain that she wasn't in any more danger than she had been, and waited for a while. After what felt like an hour, another truck, a much healthier sounding truck, rolled up. There was a greeting, and after what Sonya presumed was an examination of the broken down truck by Bubba, the truck was jumped off, rather unhappily. “Now listen, if this truck is needing to get jumped off this much, you either need a new battery, or your alternators busted. You need to get this truck to the shop and get it fixed tomorrow, if it'll even start.”

There was a couple minutes of bullshitting between the two men, and at one point, Bubba expressed an interest in finding a “little house slave” for himself, since his brother found one and was apparently very pleased with her. They seemed to be wrapping up when the first man, who was called 'Red' declared that he had to piss. Sonya jumped a little in surprise when the stream of urine landed right next to her. The pissing stopped abruptly.

“You heard that, Bubba?”

“I ain't heard shit but your fucked up engine.”

“No, somethings in that drainpipe. Coon or sumin.”

Sonya tensed up again. Was this it? Would they find her? Could she take on two of them? Could she outrun them? Those and a thousand more questions leaped through her mind in those few seconds. She readied herself to lunge at whoever stuck their face in the pipe first, then bolt for the fence. Maybe she'd be able to make it, she had always been fast before her leg was cut, even running track in highschool. For a moment, she wished that she was back then, only two years ago, but a whole lifetime ago, it seemed. She couldn't wish long, however, because a light was shone directly in her face, the flashlight from a phone, and one of the men right behind it. She lunged, fist first at the light, and was rewarded by a startled yelp from the man, followed by the soft crunch of a broken nose under her fist.

The man fell backwards, his phone flew from his hand, and Sonya landed on top of him. A moment later, she brought the metal cuffs around her wrists down on his face together, then jumped up, unsteadily in the wet ditch and on her injured leg, and bolted for the fence. The other man, on the road still, called out to Red, and started rushing over, still processing what was happening. Sonya had the upperhand though, and was scrambling over the barbed wire before the second man actually recognized that it was a human who attacked his friend. But Sonya was unlucky, and as she was getting her injured leg over, one of the wires snapped, and she felt hard, her injured leg being dragged across the remaining wires, cutting her, and tearing the strip of dirty tee shirt that she had wrapped her wound in, off. Minutes later, she was across the small pasture, at the treeline, and she risked a look back. They weren't chasing her, at least not yet. Sonya breathed a sigh of relief, then turned and took off into the trees. Even if they weren't hot on her tracks, they likely would be.

Sonya watched the sun rise the next morning, and with the light, she could inspect her leg. It was definitely infected, a puffy, angry gash that slowly oozed a foul smelling, dark green pus, tinged with streaks of blood. She needed antibiotics or she was going to have very serious issues very soon. Hungry and weak from irregular meals, dehydrated and exhausted, and badly injured, she needed a break, a safe place. The rest of that day was spent trying to find food, clean water, and someplace with medicine. She found none of those things, and as the sun was setting, she resigned herself to an awful night under a tree, and wished for more rain, so she could catch a few drops with her mouth. But Sonya was unlucky.

She dreamt of awful things that night, as she often did these days, when she could dream. She dreamt of monsters rising out of murky pools to chase her, and of spiders bursting from her leg wound to consume her. She dreamt of her father's face, broken and bloody, his lifeless eyes staring at her and he whispered “Run.” She dreamt of her mother and sister being raped, but the men doing it were red skinned and horned breasts, with massive cocks that writhed like boas and strangled her mother, and tore her sister in half. And she dreamt of the hounds of hell chasing her from the scene, and into a void that wasn't there before. She turned and the hellhouds were gone but they howled still, from somewhere in the distance. The howling seemed to get louder and come from all around her, and she turned about quickly, trying to find the source of it before snapping awake in a cold sweat. The howling didn't fade with the rest of her dream, no, it was actually getting louder. It was real. And Sonya had been in the area long enough to recognize the baying of hunting dogs when she heard it. She knew that they bayed for her, and without thinking about it, she took off away from the sound, clearly from the direction she had come.

She limped through the woods as fast as she could on her increasingly lame leg, the sound of the dogs growing louder and louder around her. They couldn't be far, at this point, she thought to herself, they were just too loud. Her lungs were burning, her leg no longer in pain, just numb, her heart pounded in her chest from fear and the exertion, and her head throbbing because she was too tired. She stumbled over tricky roots in the pale moonlight and fell hard, barely raising her hands in time to stop from busting her face open. As she struggled to her feet, the howls of the hounds like sinister thunder around her, she knew running wouldn't work. Maybe she could hide in a tree? Better than being torn apart by hounds with fiery eyes. She cast her eyes about wildly, looking for a tree she could climb, and settled on a young oak with low hanging branches. She scrambled up the tree as fast as she could, with great difficulty, as her arms were weak and shaky, and one of her legs was useless. She managed to get onto a good branch just as the dogs, three of them, rushed the tree, howling and snapping at her heels.

Whoever was hunting her, Red and Bubba, maybe the fat one she escaped, she didnt know, but whoever it was was no friend of hers, and they would be here soon. And she was a treed coon, waiting for the slaughter up here. What were her options? If it were one dog, maybe she could jump on it and keep running, but three? No chance. She couldn't wait for the men to find her, her fate would be sealed. Maybe she could move to another tree and hope the dogs don't notice? Not like she had another choice. She went higher, hoping to get more leaves and distance between her and the watchful hounds. Near the top of the tree, not as high as she might have liked, she found her chance to move trees, a pine branch that came very close to hers. She balanced as best she could on her branch, holding onto a higher one for support, and slowly crept her way along the branch to the end. She reached out and grabbed a thin pine branch above the one she wanted to step to, and hoped that it would support her if she lost her balance. One foot went across the gap, her lame leg's. So far so good, now if she could just...

A branch snapped, and Sonya fell. She landed on her bad leg and felt a hot gush from her wound as something burst, then the pain was too much, and she passed out, luckily, before the first dog's teeth found their mark.

It seemed to Sonya like an unnaturally long, and unusually uneventful unconsciousness. It was long enough and stark enough for her to actively think to herself that she should have woken up by now. Was she dead? It had been a long fall... Maybe the hell hounds has finished her off? Wouldn't surprise her, she supposed, but don't they usually drag someone down to hell? Maybe this was hell? Seemed too quiet though, hell was supposed to be bright and painful. So this was.... Purgatory? That wouldn't be so bad, she thought. At least here she wasn't someone's slave to rape. And her leg was better! At least, she thought it might be. She couldn't see anything, but she couldn't feel any pain either. She definitely still felt like she had a body, though. But death was supposed to remove you from your body, so...

She was woken suddenly, by a door opening. Her eyes flashed open and the light stung, so she shut them tight again. Then her head burst into pain from somewhere inside, and she became aware of the rest of her pain too. Her hand stung like it had been flayed, the left side of her chest ached, and her wrist was almost certainly broken. Her leg, however, didn't hurt much at all, just throbbed slightly in time with her heartbeat. She groaned as the pain hit her, and she felt woozy and sick.

“Well, look who's up. My you gave quite a fight. Oh no, don't you try and move yet.” Sonya had, of course, tried to get up, but the effort was too much, and she merely rolled over and tried to vomit, but found she couldn't. “Yeah, when you gone and broke ol' Red's nose like that, well, we didn't take very kindly.” She opened her eyes again slowly, adjusting to the brightness of it all. The man speaking was Bubba, she recognized the voice. It seems that once again, Sonya was unlucky; this time because she wasn't dead. She managed to give the man a glare, to which he chuckled.

“Now, is that any way to treat the man who been takin' care of you? Why, I coulda' let them dogs go and have their way with your leg there, lord knows it smelled bad enough to be some sorta snack for 'em.” She looked at her leg, and saw it was bandaged properly, her hand and opposite wrist too. She also saw that apart from her bandages, and a large metal cuff around her good ankle, she was naked. There was nothing for her to cover herself with either. She looked back at Bubba, who was watching her closely.

“L...le...” She tried to speak but her throat was more parched than she'd known it could be. As her mouth tried to form words, her lips cracked painfully. “Bet you're mighty thirsty, ain't ya'?” Bubba said as he pulled a water bottle from a nearby case of them. He walked over to her, and squatted, so her was closer to her level. “Now, I don't care for things being the way they are. And I am sorry about you and your kin goin' through this. I had a few good buddies of the African persuasion. But I also had a brother, bout half a year back. Your kind decided his life was worth less than a message.” Bubba unscrewed the bottle of water and put it down, just outside of Sonya's reach. “You're lucky you're a pretty little negress. Means you might not have such a bad life, if you ever learn how to act right. Time's they are a-changin'. Now you gotta get used to that fact real quick. You can't be doing that runnin' 'roun' throwin' hands business no more. You are a slave now. You act nice and you look pretty, and you don't throw no fit when a man decides you're better used in bed than the kitchen. You got that?”

Sonya glared again at him, but she didn't have much strength left to try to fight the notion, nor did she think she would get any water if she did. She begrudgingly nodded, to which Bubba smiled. “Good. Now imma' give you this water here, and you're gon' sip it real slow like, because you drink too much at once and you're gonna throw up. Then, imma' go and find you something to eat, so you don't waste away there. And when I come back, you're gonna thank me for being so nice and considerate, and for my attentive care to your wounds.” He moved the water where she could reach it, and then walked out, closing the door behind him. Sonya grabbed the water and sipped, as she was bid, since that was all good advice. The cool water actually hurt going down, but she had never known something so wonderful before.

She was alone in the room now, sipping water as fast as she figured she could keep it down. It was a small room, dark brown carpet only a few shades lighter than her skin. The walls were fake wood paneling, the ceiling white and popcorned. The walls were bare, save for a single window, boarded up. There was no furniture in the room. The cuff around her ankle was connected with a thick chain to the only thing of note (besides the case of water by the door) in the room, a large chest freezer, which the sat on top of the chain, effectively keeping her leashed. She tried to think of some way to escape, but her options seemed very limited. And until she had some strength back, there was no way she could get far, even if she did find a way to leave.

Her planning was disturbed by Bubba coming back, this time carrying a paper plate with a sandwich and some chips on it, The breakfast of kings. He walked over and placed the plate down where he had put the bottle of water, just out of her reach. “Now, I reckon you can speak again, since most of that water is gone. As I recall, you owe me some gratitude.” She looked at him, and with sincerity, she said “Th-thank you. For my leg, and the water.” Then, “Please, let me go. I didn't do nothing to deserve this.”

Bubba gave her a look, not cruel or uncaring, a look that was close to sympathy. “I know, I don't believe that half of your kind did. But if I were to let you go, how far do you reckon you'd make it on that leg of yours? Oh I cleaned it up, been rubbing it with antibiotic cream, even got my vet to come stitch it up a bit. But you ain't gonna be using that leg for another week, if you're lucky.” He gave her a look, up and down, “You don't strike me as the lucky type.” He sighed. “And before you ask me to try to sneak you out of the country, you should know that all the borders are locked down tighter than a faggot's jeans. No, you're stuck here, and that's all she wrote 'bout that.” The way he said it was soft, like he was trying to be kind about delivering such horrid news. He gently pushed the plate of food withing her reach. “You best get that food in you, gotta get some strength to heal up, else you wont be as useful to your new owner. You're gonna be safe here while you heal up, and after that, the boys and I are gonna make sure you know to act civil and can perform the duties that men are lookin' for in a house slave.”

Over the next week or two, Sonya couldn't quite tell because of the lack of sunlight, Bubba proved to be a rather hospitable captor. He was never cruel to her, ensured that she was fed and well hydrated, and took special care of her injuries. He had even given her a small pillow and an old blanket, but warned her that she shouldn't get used to comforts like that. And perhaps most notably, he never touched her but to clean and bandage her wounds. She was kept naked, and told “You're probably gonna be kept naked wherever you go, and if I were to give you any clothes, they'd just be taken from you. No, better to get used to being on display now.” when she asked for a shirt. But despite her nakedness, Bubba didn't stare at her either. Maybe he really did feel bad about this whole thing. Not that it stopped him from selling her, that's just business. The world changed, and Bubba was quick to adapt to what brought home bread. But for a time, she was safe, and could process what had happened. She cried herself to sleep nightly, and would often weep in her waking hours. Her dreams were mostly memories, always ending with that awful night, her father's face with dead, sightless eyes, her mother's look of grim determination and resignation, her sister's tear streaked screams. Sonya doubted she would ever forget, and knew that she would never forgive. She decided that her survival was now a matter of biding her time, staying as safe as she could, waiting for a chance to escape the country. Or maybe she'd be able to last until the global community worked together to get fix the atrocities committed in the past year. Either way, running wasn't an option for her. She had to endure.

The peaceful time with Bubba was short lived, because once she was mostly healed, Bubba brought 'the boys' over. Three of them, Red being among them, clearly identified by the recently broken nose and a fresh scar on his brow. Bubba spoke first. “Now, you know how things are, and what you need to do. Show these boys here that you ain't got no fight, and they're like to take it easy on you. 'Cept Red, he's still mad about his nose, even if it does make him look better.” The guys chuckled and Bubba gave one last look at her, laden with meaning, then left and closed the door. The remaining men started really looking at her, lust obvious in their eyes.

It was quiet for a long moment before Sonya stood up and, resigning herself to endurance, bent over the freezer, closed her eyes, and started to pray.

[artsy-hobbitses]

Optimus, Ironhide, Streetwise, Prowl, Ultra Magnus, Strongarm with all these former cops in the autobots ranks. It's no wonder Sunstreaker wanted to be decepticon at first. He surrounded by some of the very type of people he hated based on the fact that the cops were the Senate's attack dogs and his own criminal background. And while I'm sure his dislike of them fades or increases in Strongarm case. What makes him respect Optimus and Kup in this Au?

Ironhide was never a cop in this AU! In fact he used to be /trouble/ for cops given how flippant he is/was towards them. For context, he’s an army veteran who retired to be a rancher, kept finding scared runaway Cold Constructs taking refuge on his ranch while being hunted down by local cops so they could be sent back to the establishments that ‘commissioned’ them and he decided the Popo (at least where he was) could fuck off. So Sunny doesn’t have Ewww Cop vibes when it comes to him despite his security officer status (which is based more on his army vet status).

Kup also has soldier status instead of cop status, and Sunstreaker simply isn’t dumb enough to get into a fight/be disrespectful of a nonna who’s still whopping ass during sparring practice at her age and has the scars to show for a life led that was definitely a LOT rougher than his. (Also he’s seen the ex-drug lord’s guard/attack dog which is her baby boy now and he doesn’t want a piece of that either). Kup is cool! And somewhat terrifying! Like most of the Wreckers are outside of Strongarm and that weird green-haired kid going through the wild growth spurt (Springer). And he is honestly quite OK with respecting that.

He actually had a really hard time believing OP was an ex-cop (the man is so soft and bleeding-hearted) and had known OP to be an ex-dock worker (as this was OP’s most recent job prior to the clampdown as he was fired from his cop position) so the revelation that OP was a cop before the man was a dock worker was more or less just a “…… Huh.” moment for Sunny. He actually ends up deeply respectful of OP specifically because OP is so bleeding hearted to believe that someone like Megatron, who seemed to have veered so far off the path they initially set together on, could still somehow find his way back to it. And if OP could believe that about someone, it made it easier for him to believe that about himself too.

It helps that OP despite being an ex-cop doesn’t have a bad word to say about the reasons why Sunny went into crime. OP worked at the Dead End for a time after all, and he knows what desperation to get by and be treated as human can drive people to do. He just asks that Sunny consider other avenues here and now, and talk to him if it seems like there isn’t a choice but to return to his old ways.

OP cares. In an earnest way he balked at initially, but he accepts that this man is the leader for a reason, a reason that is not necessarily force which is not easy in combat units, and he does genuinely admire that because it’s not an easy thing to do (and he knows this because compassion and kindness don’t usually bode well for leadership positions in the criminal world), but OP does it anyway.

[wickedpact]

You can't just drop that "I read Forces Multiplied" bomb on us and not give a ten page written reaction.

[cracks knuckles] if u insist

nicky cant drive hc: destroyed. rip. also i loved how andy and nile stole those sports cars and were being badass and driving off the bridge & meanwhile joe and nicky were just absolutely vibing in the van

'heres the thing about power: people who have it think they deserve it' [shot of police car] i see u greg

5 whole panels being dedicated to booker not being able to unlock his door. booker not even seeing noriko sitting RIGHT THERE in the window at first. incredible

noriko being 24/7 horny was surprising. like wow all of the stuff i saw she did out of context was 100% equally horny in context as it was out of context. love that for her

i didnt think the 'andy + slavery' thing was handled as badly as everyone made it out to be when telling me about it. tho from the way it was talked about i had kind of figured the conflict between andy and nile re: slavery would be really racially charged (esp considering nile is a black american and would obvs have Thoughts on the subject in that regard) but like,, done in a cringey 'a-white-guy-obviously-wrote-it' kind of way? but it wasnt that. i mean. it makes sense that andy would be implicit in slavery through the years

i mean, like she says, is that not what people just did to each other in the aftermath of battles for thousands of years? and i really like how its pointed out that it was what she was raised with (in the beginning when you see her put shackles on that guy after the battle) but she also accepts responsibility for it and acknowledges that it was wrong and not just 'what people did'.

i like how from her expressions you can kind of tell baby andy knew it was off but she sets those feelings aside bc she felt angry. it explains how she felt but didnt make her out to be blameless in it. plus i mean. i dont know, the fact that andy was involved in a lot of morally shady stuff for 7000 years is not that wild for me. if you live that long youre just Going to be involved in some shit, and she didnt even have other immortals with her as positive community influences, she literally just did whatever the fuck she wanted for thousands of years

'i was worshipped as a god once' i mean, yeah no shit she wouldve been involved in some seriously fucked up stuff, gods were fucking scary back in the day

tldr it could use some polish but it wasnt that bad

tho everything people said about moose being boring was unfortunately a little true. sorry king i tried to be interested in you

joe and nicky writing verbal fanfiction about nile and moose was iconic. 'you seeing that?' 'i am definitely seeing that'

it was also extremely funny bc that was like 60% of their contribution to the whole comic, besides kidnapping copley. they came, they wrote some fanfic, they left. kings. at least in tog1 they had an excuse to be useless bc they got kidnapped

joe just found out his old friend who he thought was dead is alive (and also probably wants to murder them) and instead of investigating with andy he stopped to help nile up. champ.

nicky shooting noriko through andy was cool. rip to the concept since it wont happen in tog2

wanna see mr ejiofor deliver this line

on that note imo copley was. weirdly enough, more interesting in fm than in tog1. to me at least. the fact that andy let him live and he was so haunted by what had happened that he came back and sought them out despite knowing they would likely kill him for it bc he wanted to not only make up for what hed done but also to tell them what theyd done for the world was admittedly more interesting than andy just kind of drafting him to the cause and him going 'okie'

i like how nicky was drawn in this one. in opening fire he looks like a blob man but in fm he looks more like a very nice grampa with a very good dye job

'theres no pain like a broken heart' andy 🥺

noriko implying andy's never drowned. .. .idk about that one, she musta drowned sometime

joe and nicky came, they waxed poetic about nile's love life, they waxed poetic about grog, and then they left.

sports bras being a reason humanity is good. i mean..... okay, yeah.

i mean. wild but you cant exactly tell her shes wrong

i liked how noriko telling andy that their purpose is to make people suffer coincides with joe and nicky finding out that they actually did good all those years

joenicky in opening fire: jail for booker jail for booker for 100 years

joenicky when copley tells them he knows where booker is: WE'LL KILL YOU WHERE IS HE

joenicky when copley comes back: if your vibes come off as even remotely rancid we Will destroy you

joenicky 2 minutes later when copley helped them find booker: he made up some ground :)))) <3 lov you j cops

theyre forgiving af

moose: how old are you?? a hundred??? a thousand???

nile [vine voice]: I M 2 7 ?

alright andy you got me there

joe texts like my aunt

i dont know why noriko drowning andy in that car tickled me. Bad And Naughty Andromaches Get Put In The Pear Wiggler To Atone For Their Crimes.

the drowning sequence was cool

copley trying to talk to andy while she was like o_o at him was great

ive hit the picture limit but id seen that panel where nicky goes 'forgive me' as he kills a guy out of context and it was HILARIOUSLY anticlimactic for me to discover that there was literally no context to it. nicky just apologizes to random people he kills. i thought that guy was someone he knew or something. nope its just Some Guy that nicky didnt know from adam

nile's complaint that andy was especially brutal to the guys on the boat... i mean. . , how exactly does one kill a man with an axe and not be brutal about it?

it was funny how noriko kissed andy and the only people who seemed surprised by that were nile and also andy

nicky and joe's complete non-reaction to finding out noriko is alive And Evil Now is endlesly funny. they just left her on that boat and neither cared. i get book and nile not caring but joe and nicky knew her, and they just have 0 input on the subject of what to do with her

pinstripe suit guy!

joe and nicky and booker packing up and leaving with nile

andy blowing up at nile was A Moment tho

i dont know, i get why people didnt like the ending but its. .. . it makes more sense in the comicverse. bc the squad doesnt really. .. interact outside of jobs? i mean, think of the moon landing story in ttt. that was booker and joe and nicky doing a job and andy only showed up a for a couple minutes after it was done. or the brunch in the first issue of opening fire. the squad arent as tight in the comic, and andy often seems to do her own thing outside of work, so andy saying 'i dont want to do work anymore' and the squad being like 'alright bye then' makes more sense in this universe than the movie one

also i feel like greg was Trying to set up a thing where nile becomes the Leader of The Squad after andy dies but like. its not very well done since. . . i mean, nile hasnt spoken to booker since opening fire, (and she only knew him A Day). and shes known joe and nicky all that time, but there isnt really anything that indicates that they have any relationship at all, much less one that's grown. in all the comicverse the only time nile and nicky speak is in FM, and in that scene nicky tells nile about noriko. nile goes from someone who needs to be set aside to have background knowledge explained to her to being the Leader of the group with nothing in between. it kind of... comes out of nowhere.

on the other hand tho... i felt really bad for andy thru the whole thing. well, i always felt bad for andy, but in this one she seemed so miserable, especially since it really felt like none of the others actually.... cared about her. when noriko came back no one asked andy how she was doing (big question ik, but it wouldve showed they cared at least), nobody ever expressed any concern for her, no one even really seemed to want to be around her. in opening fire everyone was more distant than in the movie of course, but there were little moments where she would joke with joe, or nicky would try and comfort her, or stuff like that, but in FM it really felt like they just didnt really care about her. & in opening fire it felt a lot like andy's relationship with nile breathed some new life into her, but in FM it felt like all they did was argue. i get theyre not *as* close in the comics but it really felt like the only person who cared about andy at all was noriko (which was probably also how andy felt) but it just seemed to come out of nowhere. honestly i was reading and i was honestly agreeing with andy that she might just be better off if she did just die. opening fire, on the other hand, never make me feel that way

tho everyone made it sound like when the squad split up it was one of those cursed 'the found family leaves each other at the end of the journey' tropes. but guys i mean,,, this is the second installment out of three. that isnt the End. theyll come back in the third one and Dramatically Reunite to fight some baddies (probably those 'others' noriko mentioned). im guessing yitzhak fits into that too somehow.

anyways it wasnt That Bad but it made me kind of sad and the only Sweet Found Family vibes in it were when they saved booker. also they shouldve beefed up that nilemoose romance, it underwhelmed me. 6.5/10

i also ABSOLUTELY understand all of greg's comments about how you couldnt make FM directly into a movie, he always said that it had no plot and. i get it now. it really didnt have a plot sdfghjkl