#cost-signaling predation

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Venture predation

Tomorrow (May 20), I’ll be at the GAITHERSBURG Book Festival with my novel Red Team Blues; then on Monday (May 22), I’m keynoting Public Knowledge’s Emerging Tech conference in DC.

On Tuesday (May 23), I’ll be in TORONTO for a book launch that’s part of WEPFest, a benefit for the West End Phoenix, onstage with Dave Bidini (The Rheostatics), Ron Diebert (Citizen Lab) and the whistleblower Dr Nancy Olivieri.

They said it couldn’t happen. After decades of antitrust enforcement against Predatory Pricing — selling goods below cost to kill existing competitors and prevent new ones from arising — the Chicago School of neoliberal economists “proved” that predatory pricing didn’t exist and that the courts could stand down and stop busting companies for it.

Predatory pricing — the economists explained — may be illegal, but it was also imaginary. A mirage. No one would do predatory pricing, because it was “irrational.” And even if there was someone irrational enough to try it, they would fail. Stand down, judges of America — predatory pricing is solved.

Chicago School economists — whose job (to quote David Roth) is to find new ways to say “actually, your boss is right” — held enormous sway of the federal judiciary. The billionaire-backed Manne Seminars offered free “continuing education” junkets to judges — all-expense-paid luxury vacations salted with lengthy your-boss-is-right econ seminars. 40% of the US federal judiciary got their heads filled up at a Manne Seminar.

For monopolists and other predators, the Manne Seminar was an excellent return on investment. After attending a Manne Seminar, the average judge’s legal decisions tipped decidedly in favor of monopoly, operating on the Chicago bedrock assumption that monopolies are “efficient,” and, where we see them in nature, we should celebrate them as the visible manifestation of the entrepreneurial genius of some Ayn Rand hero in a corporate boardroom:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/13/post-bork-era/#manne-down

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Even as post-Chicago economists showed that predatory pricing was both possible and rampant, a “rational” and effective strategy for cornering markets, suppressing competition, crushing innovation and gouging on price, judges continued to craft tortuous, unpassable tests that any predatory pricing case would have to satisfy to proceed. Economics moved on, but predatory pricing cases continued to fail the trial-by-ordeal constructed by Chicago-pilled judges.

Which is a shame, because there are at least three ways that predatory pricing can be effective:

Cost Signaling Predation: A predator tricks competitors into thinking they’ve found a new way to cut their costs, which allows them to drop prices. Competitors, fooled by the ruse, exit the market, not realizing that the predator is merely subsidizing their products’ costs to trick them.

Financial Market Predation: A predator tricks the competitors’ creditors into thinking the predator has a new way to cut costs. The creditors refuse to loan the prey companies the money needed to survive the price war, and the prey drops out of the war.

Reputation Effect Predation: A predator subsidizes prices in one region or one line of goods in order to trick prey into thinking that they’ll do the same elsewhere: “Don’t try to compete with us in Cleveland, or we’ll drop prices like we did in Tampa.”

These models of successful predation are decades old, and have broad acceptance within economics — outside of Chicago-style ideologues — but they’ve yet to make much of a dent in minds of the judges who hear Predatory Pricing cases.

While judges continue to hit the snooze-bar on any awakening to this phenomenon, a new kind of predator has emerged, using a new kind of predation: the Venture Predator, a predatory company backed by venture capital funds, who make lots of high-risk bets they must cash out in ten years or less, ideally for a 100x+ return.

Writing in the Journal of Corporation Law Matthew Wansley and Samuel Weinstein — both of the Cardozo School of Law at Yeshiva University — lay out a theory of Venture Predation in clear, irrefutable language, using it to explain the recent bubble we sometimes call the Millennial Lifestyle Subsidy:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4437360

What’s a Venture Predator? It’s “a startup that uses venture finance to price below its costs, chase its rivals out of the market, and grab market share.” The predator sets millions or billions of dollars on fire chasing “rapid, exponential growth” all in order to “create the impression that recoupment is possible” among future investors, such as blue-chip companies that might buy them out, or sucker retail investors who buy in at the IPO, anticipating years of monopoly pricing.

In other words, the Venture Predator constructs a pile of shit so large and impressive that investors are convinced that there must be a pony under there somewhere.

There’s another name for this kind of arrangement: a bezzle, which Galbraith described as “the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it.”

Millennial Lifestyle Subsidy companies are bezzles. Uber, annihilated tens of billions of dollars on its bezzle, destroying the taxi industry and laying waste to public transit investment, demolishing labor protections and convincing people that impossible self-driving robo-taxis were around the coner:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/16/ring-ring-lapd-calling/#uber-unter

But while Uber the company lost billions of dollars, Uber’s early investors and executives made out like bandits (or predators, I suppose). The founders were able to flog their shares on the secondary market long before the IPO. Same for the early investors, like Benchmark capital.

Since the company’s IPO, its finances have steadily worsened, and the company has resorted to increasingly sweaty balance-sheet manipulation tactics and PR offensives to make it seem like a viable business:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/05/a-lousy-taxi/#a-giant-asterisk

But Uber can’t ever recoup the billions it spent convincing the market that there was a pony beneath its pile of shit. The app Uber uses to connect riders with the employees it misclassifies as contractors isn’t hard to clone, and it’s not hard for drivers or riders to switch from one app to another:

https://locusmag.com/2019/01/cory-doctorow-disruption-for-thee-but-not-for-me/

Nor can Uber prevent its rivals from taking advantage of the hundreds of millions of dollars it spent on “regulatory entrepreneurship” — changing the laws to make it easier to misclassify workers and operate unlicensed taxi services.

It’s not clear whether Uber ever believed in robo-taxis, or whether they were just part of the bezzle. In any event, Uber’s no longer in the robotaxi races: after blowing $2.5B on self-driving cars, Uber produced a vehicle whose mean-distance-between-fatal-crashes was 0.5 miles. Uber had to pay another company $400M to take its self-driving unit off its hands:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Uber’s prices rose 92% between 2018–21, while its driver compensation has plunged. The company is finding it increasingly difficult to passengers into cars, and drivers onto the road. They have invented algorithmic wage disrimination, an exciting new field of labor-law violations, in order to trick drivers into thinking there’s a pony under all that shit:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

To Uber’s credit, they have been a wildly innovative company, inventing many new ways to make the pile of shit bigger and the pony more plausible. Back when Uber and Lyft were locked in head-to-head competition, Uber employees created huge pools of fake Lyft rider accounts, using them to set up and tear down rides in order to discover what Lyft was charging for rides in order to underprice them. Uber also covertly operated the microphones in its drivers’ phones to listen for the chimes the Lyft app made: drivers who had both Lyft and Uber installed on their devices were targeted for (strictly temporary) bonuses.

Uber won’t ever recoup, but that’s OK. The investors and execs made vast fortunes. Now, normally, you’d expect company founders and other managers with large piles of stocks in a VC-backed company to be committed to the business’s success, at least in the medium term, because their shares can’t be liquidated until well after the company goes public.

But the burgeoning “secondary market” for managers’ shares has turned investors and managers into co-conspirators in the Venture Predation bezzle: “half of Series A and B deals now have some secondary component for founders.” That means that founders can cash out before the bezzle ends.

The trick with any bezzle is to skip town while the mark is still energetically digging through the shit, before the pony is revealed for an illusion. That’s where crypto comes in: during the cryptocurrency bubble, VCs cashed out of their investments early through Initial Coin Offerings and other forms of securities fraud. The massive returns this generated were well worth the millions they sprinkled on Superbowl ads and bribes for Matt Damon.

But woe betide the VC who mistimes their exit. As Wework showed, it’s entirely possible for VCs to be left holding the bag if they get the timing wrong. Wework blew $12b on predatory pricing — promising tenants at rivals’ businesses moving bonuses or even a year’s free rent, all to make the pile of shit look larger and thus more apt to contain a pony. The company opened its co-working spaces as close as possible to existing shops, oversaturating hot markets and showing “growth” by poaching customers through deep subsidies, then pretending that those customers would stay when the subsidies evaporated. But Wework’s “product” was temporary hot-desks, occupied by people who could (and did) move at the drop of a hat.

To its competitors, its competitors’ creditors, and credulous investors, it appeared that Wework had developed some kind of “efficiency advantage” — a secret sauce that let it sell a product at a price that was far below its rivals’ costs. But once Wework filed for its IPO, its S-1 — the form that discloses the company’s finances — revealed the truth. Wework’s only “advantage” was the bafflegab of its cult-like leader and the torrent of cash supplied by its VCs.

Wework’s IPO was a disaster. After canceling a real IPO, the company eventually went public through a scammy SPAC, saw its shares immediately tank, and continue to fall, as its balance-sheet is still blood-red with losses.

Another Venture Predator is Bird, the company that flooded American cities with cheap, flimsy Chinese scooters, choking curbs and sidewalks. 25% of the gross revenues from each scooter ride had to be written off as depreciation on the scooter. As a Bird spokesperson told the LA Times: “There are very few unique companies for which you can build global scale really quickly and build a dominant market position before other people do, and for those rarefied companies scaling quickly matters more than short-term profits.”

Bird was another company that could never recoup, whose executives and investors could only cash out if they could maintain the faint hope of the pony underneath its pile of shitty scooters. It drove the company to some genuinely surreal lengths. For example, in 2018, I reported on the existence of a kit that let you buy an impounded Bird scooter for pennies and retrofit it to run without an app, so you could take it anywhere:

https://boingboing.net/2018/12/08/flipping-a-bird.html

Shortly thereafter, I got a legal threat from Linda Kwak, Bird’s Senior Corporate Counsel, claiming that publishing a link to a website that sells you a product you install by unscrewing one board and inserting another was a violation of Section 1201 of the DMCA, which was an astonishingly stupid claim:

https://www.eff.org/document/bird-rides-takedown-boing-boing-dec-20-2018

It was also an astonishingly stupid claim to make to me, a career activist with 20 years experience fighting DMCA1201, a decades-old professional affiliation with EFF, and a giant megaphone:

https://boingboing.net/2019/01/11/flipping-the-bird.html

But Bird was palpably desperate to keep its bezzle going, and Kwak — an employment lawyer with undeniable deficits in her understanding of copyright and cyber-law — was their champion

Fascinatingly, one thing Bird didn’t worry about was competition from Uber and Lyft, who piled into the e-scooter market. Bird circulated a (leaked) pitch-deck reassuring investors that Uber/Lyft weren’t gunning for them, because they ““won’t subsidize prices” as they prepared for their IPOs, which involved disclosing their finances to their investors.

Bird’s investors either lost money or made small-dollar returns, but they were outfoxed by Bird founder Travis VanderZanden, a superpredator who cashed out $44m in shares just as the VCs were piling in.

Venture Predation is another stinging rebuttal to the Chicago School’s blithe dismissal of Predatory Pricing as an illusion. Private firms — of the sort that VCs back — whose boards are made up of founders and VCs who stand to benefit from the pile-of-shit gambit are perfectly capable of spending huge fortunes to make Predatory Pricing work. VCs make a practice of repeatedly co-investing in businesses together, which fosters the kind of trust that allows for these gambits to be played again and again.

For later stage, pony-thirsty investors who get stuck holding the bag, the lure of monopoly profits is both powerful and plausible — after 40 years of antitrust neglect, monopolies are the kinds of things one can both attain and defend (think of Peter Thiel’s maxim, “competition is for losers,” or Warren Buffett’s terrifying priapisms induced by the mere thought of businesses with “wide, sustainable moats”).

In a world of Facebook and Google, dreaming of monopolies isn’t irrational — it’s aspirational.

VCs are ideally poised to play the Venture Predation gambit. They are risk-tolerant and need to cash out over short timescales. What’s more, VCs’ longstanding boasts of their ability to identify companies who have invented new, super-efficient ways to do boring things like “rent out office space” or “provide taxis” gives the pile-of-shit pony-pitch a plausible ring.

The Venture Predator gambit isn’t just a form of plute-on-plute violence in which billionaires fleece millionaires. Like any anticompetitive scam, Venture Predators are able to pick winners in the marketplace — rather than getting the taxi or the office rental service or the scooter that serves you best, you get the scammiest version.

Workers who are roped in by the scam also suffer — the authors raise the example of a cab driver who leases a car to drive for Uber, based on the early subsidies the company offered, only to find themselves unable to make payments once the bezzle ends and Uber starts clawing back the driver’s wages.

Then there’s the cost to society: during the decade-plus in which Uber was pissing away the Saudi royal family’s billions subsidizing rides, cities dismantled their public transit, even as residents made decisions about where to live and work based on the presumption that Uber was charging a fair, sustainable price for rides.

The authors propose a bunch of legislative fixes for this, but warn that none of them are likely to get through Congress or the Manne-pilled judiciary. But they do hold out hope for a proposed SEC rule “requiring large, private companies to make basic financial disclosures.” These disclosures would make it impossible for companies to pretend that they had built a better mousetrap when all they had was a bigger pile of shit.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/19/fake-it-till-you-make-it/#millennial-lifestyle-subsidy

[Image ID: A giant pile of manure with a pony sticking out of it.]

Image: Eli Duke (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/elisfanclub/6834356283

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

[uncharismatic-fauna]

The Palestine Sunbird Persists

The Palestine sunbird, also known as the orange-tufted sunbird (Cinnyris osea) is the national bird of Palestine, and often seen as a symbol of resistance and hope. This species occurs in dry climates, particularly desert, scrubland, and savannahs, but can also be found in orchards and gardens where flowers are abundant. In addition to the Levant, C. osea occurs throughout the southwest cost of Saudia Arabia and the coasts of Yemen and Oman in the south.

C. osea is a small bird, 8 to 12 cm (3.1-4.7 in) long with a wingspan of only 14 to 16 cm (5.5-6.2 in). Males weigh on average 7.6 g (0.26 oz) and females are slightly smaller, at about 6.8 g (0.24 oz). Males are quite easy to identify due to their striking plumage; their feathers are iridescent, appearing dark until they shimmer glossy blue or green, with orange tufts at the side of the breast. In contrast females are fairly drab; grey-brown with a lighter underside. The beaks of the Palestine sunbird are also noted for their distinctively long and curved, which they have developed to efficiently feed on nectar.

Although not directly part of the hummingbird family, the Palestine sunbird shares many similarities with the group. Its diet consists of nectar, and is supplemented with insects. Their tongues are long, and brush-like, and the shape of their beak allows them to reach down to the base of the flower. For flowers that are , they will use their sharp beaks to pierce the side and access the nectar directly. All this is done at very high speeds, but unlike hummingbirds the Palestine sunbird cannot hover in place, and must land in order to feed. Because of their primary reliance on nectar, the orange-tufted sunbird is an important pollinator in its native region. Adults are rarely predated upon, but eggs and young are often targets for lizards, snakes, and birds of prey.

Reproduction begins in June, and continues through October. Males establish and defend territories, and court females by singing to attract a potential mate, then chasing her until she perches to signal her acceptance. Following the pairing, the two construct a purse-like nest, sometimes with a porch-like structure, that hangs from a branch. In this nest, 1-2 eggs are laid, and are incubated primarily by the female, while the male provides her food. The eggs take 13 to 14 days to hatch, and chicks are taken care of by both parents for an additional 14 to 21 days. Individuals can live up to 5 years in the wild.

Conservation status: The Palestine sunbird has a large range and population, and is thus considered Least Concern by the IUCN. Its primary threat is habitat loss due to agriculture and urban development.

If you send me proof that you’ve made a donation to UNRWA or another organization benefiting Palestinians, I’ll make art of any animal of your choosing.

Remember, the donation can be in any amount– every dollar counts!

Photos

Jorrit Vlot

Dula Alhashimi

Rana Hijawi

[sixteenseveredhands]

Namib Sand Geckos: these nocturnal geckos have biofluorescent markings that emit a bright, neon-green glow when exposed to the moonlight

This species (Pachydactylus rangei) is found only in the Namib Desert, which stretches across Namibia, Angola, and South Africa; the geckos typically inhabit the arid, coastal region known as the Skeleton Coast.

In order to escape from the blistering heat of the desert, they use their webbed feet to burrow down into the sand during the day, and then emerge only at night, when the temperature has finally dropped. The webbing on their feet also enables them to run more easily across the dunes.

Namib sand geckos are covered in translucent scales, but they also have a strangely colorful appearance, as the colors/shades of their circulatory system, spinal column, internal organs, and optical membranes remain partially visible through the skin, producing various shades of pink, dark blue, purple, magenta, orange, and yellow.

They also have several distinctive markings running along their lower flank and encircling their eyes; these markings are known to fluoresce when exposed to UV light (including moonlight), emitting a bright, neon-green glow.

Some researchers have theorized that the biofluorescent markings may act as a signal to other geckos, allowing them to locate one another in the vast, desolate expanse of the desert, as this paper explains:

The fluorescent areas of P. rangei are concentrated around the eyes and along the lower flanks. This positioning is practically invisible to predators with a higher perspective (e.g. birds and jackals), but highly conspicuous from a gecko’s perspective. As P. rangei is sociable but generally solitary, and occurs at low population densities, such a signal might serve to locate conspecifics over greater distances ...

Encounters in P. rangei might serve purposes beyond mating opportunities: as the Namib desert has extremely low precipitation, fog is a key water source for its flora and fauna. Fog condenses on the bodies of the geckos, and they lick it from their faces. In husbandry, we have observed individuals licking water from conspecifics, taking advantage of a much greater available surface area.

Additionally, after short periods of isolation, the geckos run to meet each other. The combination of vital hydration with socialisation might reinforce signals that enable such meetings, and the cost of visibility to predators with higher vantage points, might constrain the signals to regions best visible from eye-level and below.

The Namib sand gecko is the only terrestrial vertebrate that is known to use an iridophore-based form of biofluorescence (you can find a more detailed explanation of that mechanism in the article mentioned above). The fluorescent dermal markings are also unique to this species.

Sources & More Info:

Scientific Reports: Neon-green fluorescence in the desert gecko Pachydactylus rangei caused by iridophores

Animal Diversity Web: Pachydactylus rangei

Dr. Mark D. Scherz's Blog: A Neon-Green Glowing Gecko!

Australian Geographic: Skeleton Coast - Namibia's strange desert dwellers

[444rockstargf]

I need the filthiest kappa fic, like him degrading tf outta you but he’s manhandling reader like crazy. Aftercare too, pls. (I need him in my veins.)

teehee i luv it when yall go crazy w the kappa reqs

"treat me rough, treat me really nicely." | kappa

cola. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @livingdead-materialgirl @vanlisbon @oliviah-25 @livingdead-reilly @yungbloodsuxca @imoonkiss @lankysimp @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt@mommymilkers0526

sub!female!reader x dom!kappa

word count: 1.1k

contents: public sex, unprotected p in v, degradation, creampie, implied aftercare

“get in here, bitch.” kappa had a handful of your hair, dragging you around until he tossed you into the back of his van like a sack of potatoes. you giggled, tumbling onto the cushion as you gazed up at his snarling disposition. “oh c’mon kap… me ‘nd him are just friends, it doesn’t matter that i was kissing him…” kappa could smell the stench of your alcoholic breath from where he was standing and it only added more fuel to the burning rage blazing within him.

he firmly grabbed your jaw, pulling up your face to his so that you could see every fine line and detail on his face. “i don’t think i asked for a fuckin’ explanation, hun.” he stepped into the van, slamming the door shut behind him. as a cult leader, it wasn’t everyday that you saw him in a cheery mood, but the skies were even stormier right now. he was livid. and all because you’d gotten a little drunk during a heist and started making out with the nearest victim. now that silly little stunt would likely cost you your ability to walk for the next week.

his shadow hovered over you and you could sense the plot brewing in his mind. you inched your hand toward the door handle, not really wanting to get out but wanting to see how far you could push him. he snapped a hand forward and grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head. “you’re not getting away with fucking up my plans this time, angel.”

he leered down at you, your legs spread far enough for his lower body to nestle itself comfortably. jagged breaths came from your parted lips, the scent of booze polluting the van. kappa grabbed you by your waist, flipping you around so that he was sitting down and you were standing in front of him, looking like a timid little bunny. sobriety began to hit you like a ton of bricks.

“you wanna be a whore so bad, huh sugar?” his voice was as smooth as honey, making your knees go weak. “well i might not have an issue with that. i could never stay mad at my favourite girl for long.” now you were terrified. the sweeter his words were now, the worse his wrath would become. his face hardened once again. “now strip.”

you found yourself discarding pieces of your clothing one by one, eyes glued on the bulging mass that created a tent in his pants. as you took off your panties he snatched them from your grip, whipping out his cock and wrapping the soft fabric around his rod. he began to stroke himself ever so slowly as he gazed at your body like a hungry predator.

he pulled you in close by your waist, bringing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply. this was the final signal of peace before he tossed you onto the car seat, his body on top of yours as he stuffed your mouth with your panties. “now the fun can begin, bitch.” he spat on his hand, reaching it down to the place in between you two and shoving his fingers into you.

you screamed, your noises muffled by the fabric. he pumped his finger in and out of your needy cunt, lips right beside your ear as he taunted you. “that feel good, whore? wanna get fucked in the back of daddy’s van, hm?” you nodded frantically, hips grinding against his hand in a desperate attempt for more friction.

kappa chuckled with satisfaction and just a hint of malice, rising up and leaving you trembling underneath him. his pulsating tip was resting between your puffy pussy lips, begging to be let into your cunt. he grabbed you by the throat, pulling you up to his level and whispering into your ear: “you make a single goddamn sound and i’ll ruin you, you hear me?” you nodded frantically, every cell in your body desperate for the consequence.

he shoved his dick inside of you in a fraction of a second. you screamed, the reaction only being partially exaggerated. he grabbed your breast, squeezing it tightly as he quickly began thrusting into you. 

the van creaked and shook, surely waking up the majority of the neighbourhood in the process. he had a hand around your neck, nearly cumming from your facial expressions alone. “dirty fuckin’ whore…” he muttered, his other hand rubbing quick circles onto your clit. your fingernails dug into the car seat, your other hand clawing detailed designs on his back.

you felt his cock destroying your guts, your heart hammering in your chest as drool spilled out from the corners of your mouth, saturating your panties. you were screaming, crying and moaning, your overstimulation sounding like music to his ears. you gushed, creamed and squirted all over him, the warmth doing indescribable things to his body.

his grip around you grew tighter by the second, his groans hitting you right in the neck and making your body buzz. you were sensitive to every touch that he laid onto you, your body reacting in unearthly ways. your suppressed whimpers gave him a sense of pure bliss. 

he muttered dirty words into your ear, his thrusts quickly losing their composure as his warm seed began to leak into you. “s-shit..! that’sit, t-take this fucking cock, hun…” your legs wrapped his waist, trapping him and leaving him with no choice but to dump his cum into you. in a struggling attempt to break free, he snapped.

your belly swelled like a balloon as he growled, tossing his head back and spilling hot strings of cum into your womb. you couldn’t help wanting to be filled with his cum so badly. it was a warm, squishy feeling that you had grown very fond of.

kappa body collapsed onto yours, you both becoming a panting, sweaty mess. time went elastic as you felt his hot body on yours. your heavy eyelids began to flutter shut as the post-orgasm buzz wore off. your breathing stilled and his cum acted as a warm, cozy blanket.

your eyes opened once again, but he was no longer on top of you. but you were moving. you lifted your head, seeing kappa in the drivers seat. he glanced at you through the mirror. “you’re up, doll.” you rubbed your eyes, nodding as you realized that he had wrapped a blanket around you.

“i’m driving down to the gas station. we can grab some snacks and spend the rest of the night in the van. how’s that sound, angel?” he glanced back at you, smiling. you nodded, warmth filling your soul as he turned his attention back to the road, turning up the radio as your favourite song began to play.

author's note: this fic's a little messy but bon appetit

[chlorinecake]

PART 2: GHOST FACE YANDERE imagine

Ｂｌｏｏｄ Ｏｎ Ｉｃｅ | 얼음에 피 - a park sunghoon ff

⚡︎ cw: mentions of suicide, violence, character deaths, swearing, underage drinking, pregnancy/marriage themes, lgbtq+ themes, non-con scenes, heavy petting/kissing, ft. other kpop idols

⚡︎ summary: your unexpected pregnancy causes yandere!Sunghoon to grow unhealthily obsessed with you. the ex ghost face killer is then driven to dangerous extremes to ensure that you remain his (read part 1 and part 3)

⚡︎ wc: 13.6k (sorryyyy)

❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆now and then

Love always had a way of making Sunghoon Park go a little mad at times. Though, the young charmer with a deviant undercut was more of a threat to himself than anyone else around him. His obsessive tendencies led to him developing an obsession with the very thing he feared most: losing someone he loved.

Coupled with his compulsion to protect that love at all costs, Sunghoon ranked up an impressive kill count over the past three years.

Some may consider his inner world to be one of blind devotions, vanity, and false justices. Another might ask what’s so monstrous about fighting for love?

Everything, Sunghoon would warn you.

He lived day after day, feeling like a menace in love's never-ending nightmare, when all he ever wanted to be was the hero. He thought that if he killed just a little more, that maybe love would hurt a little less. But, to be honest, there was more to Sunghoon's violence than noble love. In a world of prey, murder granted him power, even amongst predators, a power that would drive him to dangerous extremes for the rest of his life.

Sunghoon discovered his true self in the very darkness that haunted him. The same darkness he would eventually find you in, hoping that someday, your light might consume him and grant him peace. Besides, you were the only 'good' he knew after his sister's passing.

It caught him off guard, his feelings for you.

Sunghoon grew fond of you beyond the fleeting satisfaction your body bestowed him by force, or during tearful fits after he'd just beaten you senselessly.

Oh, he thought you were such a pretty crier, it gave him a rush he wished to feel forever.

You were addicting, his new favorite drug.

꒷꒦ 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨…

The sound of school bells shattered your fragile sense of contentment, signaling for you and the rest of your disappointed peer's to attend the most detested class of the day: Physical education.

That day's roster consisted of a brutal dodgeball game, girl's versus boys. You weren't typically in the mood to have rubber balloons launched at your head, so you successfully escaped class under the lie that you were experiencing unbearable cramps. Mr. Peterson, your P.E teacher, handed you a hall pass, dismissing you from participation.

You made your way to the ladies restroom, located only a few steps from the gymnasium. Walking up to one of the bathroom sinks, you checked yourself out in the mirror, only to be met with the sound of hushed sobs, coming to a full stop upon the realization that someone else had entered the restroom.

"Hello?" Your voice echoed against the faded tile walls.

Hiccup.

The suppressed cry that slipped from her throat gave away her hiding spot. You paced down to the furthest bathroom stall, your gym sneakers squeaking with each step.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Are you alright in there?" You whispered, pressing your face flush against the obviously unlocked door.

"Please, just go away," the sullen voice begged you.

You sighed, "I hope you're not naked in there, because I'm coming in, anyway."

The sobs only heightened in response.

"Three," you began counting down, "two... one," you slung the heavy door open, revealing a teary eyed Wonyoung Park, sitting with her knees to her chest on the cold restroom floor, still in uniform.

You got on your knees to meet her before handing her a tissue.

"Thank you," she frowned, blowing her nose.

Your gaze swiveled around the gloomy stall, spotting a rectangular blue box stuffed in the trash can.

Reaching for it, Wonyoung gently swatted your hand, pulling your attention back to her.

"Please don't look at that," she pleaded, using her delicate fingers to dry her swollen eyes.

"Why're you crying?"

"It's really none of your business."

"Tell me or else I'm looking in the trash can."

She scoffed at your threat, crossing her arms again. "What's it to you anyway? We hardly know each other and now I'm supposed to give you life updates?"

"I'm just looking out for you, okay? It's a pretty big deal to find a girl crying in a school restroom with no explanation."

Wonyoung toyed with the beaded bracelet on her wrist, letting your words sink in before responding.

"Fine. I'll tell you why, but only if you share a secret in return."

“Seriously?” You asked both offended and surprised at the simple exchange.

“Yes, now start talking or I'll change my mind,” she giggled, nose still stuffy from her crying.

“Hmm,” you pondered, sitting crisscross applesauce as you struggled to think of something. Then it hit you.

“Well, it’s actually a secret about my friend, Kazuha, if that’s okay.”

“Of course, now go on," she directed eagerly, peering in closer as you started to speak.

“Okay, so, it all started with Jay's house party during freshman year. A simple game of truth or dare led to us having to kiss each other."

"On the lips?"

"Yes, but it was only a quick peck. The next day, she confessed her feelings for me, but I rejected her for the sake of our friendship.”

By now, you could hardly tell Wonyoung had been crying, as her white eyes widened with pure shock.

“Kazuha’s a lesbian?!”

“Shh! Keep it down,” you whispered, eliciting a fit of giggles from Wonyoung. “And no, she’s bisexual. That means she's interested in guys and girls."

Wonyoung stared at the ceiling in thought, “Y'know, now that I think about it, I do remember her peeking at me in the showers a few times.”

“Wonyoung!” You whisper-yelled.

“What? I didn’t mind or anything. I just thought it was a little strange.”

“I think you're forgetting something, missy," you said, reminding her of the deal you made earlier.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” she smiled before her restored countenance returned to the sad expression you found her with. She swiped the cardboard box from the trash can, placing it in your lap.

It was a pregnancy test.

No more words needed to be exchanged for you to know why she was crying, but she went on to explain anyways.

"Me and Jun-Hwan were together a few times, and... I... we used protection, but... just don't tell my brother. Please."

"You won't have to worry about me telling a single soul about this," you replied, shoving the box in your gym shorts pocket to throw away later.

Back then, you and Wonyoung didn't know each other well, but you divulged secrets you wouldn't have told anyone else, sharing a bond just close enough to be considered 'pending friends.' Your silly pinky promises to her have remained unbroken to this very day, cherishing her secrets as if they were your own. However, your connection with Wonyoung was short lived, as you would eventually betray her for Kaz and Mads.

➠ sunday -❆- present, one month after your abduction...

5:56am

The sound of your vomit clashing with the clear toilet water every morning became somewhat familiar for you and Sunghoon over the past few weeks. First, you felt the urge angrily twisting in your stomach. Then, your cheeks started to sting from the acidic saliva forming underneath your tongue. On bare knees with a hunched back, clinging to the toilet bowl with all your might, Sunghoon held your hair back, gravely concerned for your well being as you threw up for the nth time that morning.

It goes without saying that Sunghoon handled you harshly at times, but your escalating symptoms led him to believe that it was more than just some strange abuse response you developed.

You also began to experience backaches and tender breasts.

“I don’t like being rough with you when you’re already weak, ____, so stop fighting back when I want to play with you.”

Fatigue and intense abdominal cramps made each day under his ruling seem like a century.

“Remember that you’re here to suffer, ____. This pain is something you’ll have to endure for now.”

And then…

You missed your period.

Clutching unto your nearest hand as if never wanting to let go, Sunghoon sat on the edge of the bathtub beside you, anxiously waiting for whatever result dared to appear on the two pregnancy tests.

He picked with the dead skin that made up his nail bed, shallow breaths escaping his rigid body.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Sunghoon leaped at the sound of the alarm, reaching for the tests that rested dauntingly on the bathroom counter. Lifting the results to his eyes, his gaze softened at the sight of double positives, letting out a deep sigh.

"What is it, Sunghoon," you spoke softly, getting up from the tub to meet him. He set the tests on the counter again, turning to face you.

He took both of your trembling hands in his. "____," he began with a whisper, "I need you to listen to me when I say that I am never letting you go. Not with our child, and not without me."

Kissing the top of your head, he held you so impossibly close to him that you could hear his heart beating. “We must stick together now.”

And just like that, everything around you was suddenly changing, your foggy mind could hardly keep up. Sinking into his embrace, you felt both of your bodies simultaneously breaking and rebuilding themselves.

The news was heavy, but something about the idea of being a mother made you feel light.

➠ monday

6:27am

Despite how angry you made him at times, Sunghoon knew he had to tone down his hostility towards you. The potential baby’s health and safety became one of his top priorities, and he refused to risk it all on plain rage.

As far as your academic career was concerned, Sunghoon had clarified a while ago that your college plans were as good as forgotten.

Though, with a possible baby on the way, you were somewhat thankful for him making you drop out.

You and Sunghoon scheduled a doctor's appointment to have your pregnancy confirmed professionally before making any major changes. “So, you’re not worried about bringing me around people anymore?” You asked him, sitting with your legs crossed in the passengers seat of his car.

“I have no reason to be worried. You’ve learned better than to do or say anything stupid. Besides, I’ll be there the entire time. Now sit back and put your seatbelt on.”

You internally rolled your eyes, reaching for the seat belt before buckling it in.

Clink.

You pressed your body against the seat, reclining it backwards to relax your posture.

“Well, does that mean I can leave the basement more often now?”

He snickered to himself, shaking his head at your nonsense. The car rocked slightly as he drove past the stony trail.

“We’ll see what the doctor has to say about your condition. Then, I’ll decide from there.”

7:19am

It was still fairly early in the morning when you and Sunghoon arrived at the hospital. The parking lot was packed with cars and trucks positioned haphazardly in every which way. After finding a decent parking spot, you two made your way into the clinic, large sliding doors closing swiftly behind you.

Immediately, you were met with the sounds of the intercom, murmuring codes and directions from the ceiling speakers. Nurses dressed in pastel shrubs paced hastily up and down the hallways, greeting the two of you with simple yet friendly nods. “Good morning,” one of them would say, but you only waved back.

Eventually, Sunghoon's gaze fixed on the waiting room, guiding your steps as he held your hand. The row of chairs sat frail elderly citizens, runny-nosed children, and other eager patients waiting to be treated. You and Sunghoon found an idle loveseat located near a window next to the noisy air conditioner. You sat closely together, trying to absorb any warmth emitting from your shivering bodies. "How're you feeling?" He asked, toying with a loose thread hanging from your top.

"Nervous,” you admitted, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Don't be," Sunghoon whispered back to you.

That's when a tall man with round spectacles entered the waiting room, earning desperate looks from every person seated in the stuffy square.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Lee, but feel free to call me Heeseung."

Sunghoon left your side, standing up to meet the doctor before giving him a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Lee. My name is Sunghoon Park, and this is my girlfriend, ____."

'There's no way in hell he just called me his girlfriend,' you thought to yourself.

"It's a pleasure to treat you two today," he smiled while adjusted the glasses over his bottom nose, flipping through sheets of paperwork on his clipboard. "Let's see, you scheduled an appointment over the phone for an HCG blood test at 7:30 sharp... Okay! Everything looks great. You two can follow me to my office and I'll be with you shortly."

Heeseung started walking before either of you could respond, your legs mirroring his fast pace as he made his was around the maze of a hospital.

You were present physically, yet your mind was stuck on the image of Dr. Lee's face that stained your mind. He looked relatively young to be a doctor, with the attitude of a preschool teacher, full of glee and optimism. Your first impression of him was odd, though, at the same time, admirable.

Heeseung closed the office door behind you, directing with a simple hand gesture where you and Sunghoon could sit. He flicked on a light before taking a seat himself in a rolling chair, holding the clipboard and pen as if it was a color pallet and paintbrush.

"Okay, so I read something on your report about a previous drugstore pregnancy test?"

"Yes, she took two at home and they both came back positive."

"Awesome! Though, there's nothing wrong with wanting to be 100% sure, which is why we'll be sampling her urine today."

Oh, God.

"Estimate how long ago you suspected to be carrying."

"About two weeks ago,” Sunghoon answered.

"Mhm, and when was your last menstrual cycle?"

A temporary silence filled the room’s air.

"____?" Sunghoon rested a hand on your lap, snatching you from your thoughts.

"Erm, around 6 weeks ago. Sorry."

"It's alright, love. Appointments like this tend to be daunting for women your age. Anyways, if you are pregnant, a dating ultrasound is something you can look into. It helps us determine the precise size of an embryo, if that sounds interesting at all. From the sounds of it though, you're around 12 or so weeks."

Heeseung proceeded to fill the sheet of paper with neat cursive notes down, taking a sip from the Starbucks coffee that sat on his desk, the warm liquid slightly fogging up his glasses.

"Okay, so I have this fun little deer themed folder here, and this is where I'm going to store any notes or important information you provide. I’ll make a copy for myself so you can take this one with you when visiting other medical professionals. What sort of symptoms have you been experiencing, love?”

You looked up to the ceiling in thought, "Uhm, morning sickness has been a major one. I’ve also experienced some abdominal cramps."

"Hmm, I see. Ovary aches are entirely normal during the first weeks of pregnancy, and often follow a mother into her later months."

Simultaneously, your mind both appreciated and stressed over the information overload you were experiencing at this moment.

You understood that Dr. Lee was only trying to equip you with the best information and service possible, but you still couldn’t shake the nerves.

"How often are you and your partner intimate in the bedroom?"

Your heart sank at his question, the word “intimate” being quite far from what occurred between you and Sunghoon, and it rarely took place in a bedroom.

”I’m sorry, what?" Sunghoon asked, also in disbelief.

"How regularly do you and ____ have sex?"

You could feel yourself sweating now.

"Uh-”

"A few times a week,” Sunghoon answered for you again.

You felt so dirty after hearing him say that, it probably showed all over your face.

"And none of you have a history with STI’s or related diseases, correct?"

"Yes. I was her first and I got tested before we tried anything."

What a stupid lie.

Heeseung gathered the notes he made, tucking them into the deer folder. Returning to the clipboard, he flipped to a colorful page, looking up to meet your eyes.

"This is a mental health check sheet. I’m going to ask you a series of questions, and it’s imperative that you answer every single one honestly. Can you promise me that, Miss ____?"

You looked to Sunghoon for permission, and he nodded back to you. "Yes, Dr. Lee, I promise.”

"Awesome! On a scale from strongly agree to strongly disagree, you often experience feelings of anxiety."

"Strongly agree."

"Depression?"

"Agree."

"Calmness?"

"Somewhat disagree."

"Feelings of fear?"

"Strongly agree."

"Suicidal thoughts-"

"I think I've had enough of your silly questions!" Sunghoon interrupted, your body flinching at his sudden raise in vocal tone.

"I’m just proceeding with protocol, sir. I’m not trying to step on your anyone’s toes here. Nice shoes, by the way," the doctor joked, trying to lighten the mood, but Sunghoon wasn't having it.

"She's perfectly fine. Right, ____?” He asked, shaking your shoulder, “Aren't you happy?"

You felt your palms grow clammy, afraid of how Sunghoon might blow up on you for saying the wrong thing, so you kept quite.

"____, is your boyfriend making you feel uncomfortable?"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Heeseung ignored him and continued counseling you, "It’s perfectly normal to feel anxious while answering such personal questions in front of your partner."

"Oh please," Sunghoon interjected.

Heeseung stood up from his rolling chair, standing a few inches above Sunghoon.

"Can you step out of the room for a bit? I’m trying to assess my patient and you're hindering the process. Considering my tight work schedule, I can’t afford to waste my time going back and forth with you."

"Sunghoon," you pleaded from your seat, giving his balled fist a gentle squeeze.

He responded by grabbing your wrist, dragging you from Dr. Lee's office.

"What," he spat harshly, tightening his lips as he pinned you to the now closed door.

"Your temper will only lead to trouble if you stay. I think its best that you step out for a bit while we finish."

His gaze fell to the floor as he considered your idea.

"Fine. I’ll be waiting for you in the car at the same parking spot. You have exactly thirty minutes to finish up with him, or else I’m gonna make sure you’re pregnant once we get back home, understood?” he asked in a low voice, sending shivers down your spine.

“I understand, Sunghoon,” you complied, afraid to meet his eyes.

He stormed off in the opposite direction, leaving you to sort things out with the doctor.

Considering your limited time frame, you rushed into Heeseung’s office, apologizing for Sunghoon’s behavior.

“How soon will results for a urinalysis come back?”

“Normally, no longer than five minutes,” he said, handing you an empty cup. “Take your time, love.”

The excitement you felt from knowing that peeing in a cup could save your ass was strange, yet enjoyable nonetheless. You returned the yellow sample to Dr. Lee, earning your third and final pregnancy confirmation within four minutes.

"Congratulations," Heeseung cheered, holding a bowl of colorful stickers for you to choose from. "I will be your general healthcare provider for the duration of your pregnancy unless any changes are made. I’m available during the week if you need anything, but expect to hear from me weekly,” he smiled as you fished through the stickers. “Don’t stress, just pick one intuitively.”

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes befofe pulling out an oddly shaped piece of paper. “A snowflake,” you beemed softly, taking in the glittery periwinkle accents that made up the image.

“It’s been twenty minutes, Miss ____. I’m afraid your boyfriend is waiting on you.”

Your smile faltered, “What did you just say?”

“I said I look forward to treating you again. Have a blessed day, now.”

“R-right, uhm, you too,” you waved, tucking the sticker into your pocket before traveling down a few elevators, making your way to the parking lot. You could see Sunghoon still sitting in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel as he awaited your return.

You sat beside him in the passenger’s seat, remembering to buckle up your seatbelt this time.

“How’d everything go?” He asked nonchalantly, immediately turning on the car ignition.

Pulling out of the parking spot, he made his way around the hospital, cruising down the interstate.

“I’m pregnant.”

➠ tuesday

6:53pm

The sound of Sunghoon's heavy footsteps from behind the basement door broke the little concentration you held while thinking. He unlocked the basement door and entered the still atmosphere, making his way over to where you were sitting. Placing a navy blue suede box on the table, he took a seat beside you.

“What’s this," you asked curiously, eyes trained on the dainty object.

“Just open it," he urged, fidgeting with his fingers.

He wasn't nervous. Was he?

You wasted no time reaching for the navy blue chest, flipping its golden latch open to reveal a shiny silver ring with the most dazzling violet stone at its center. Gold details encased the gem like protective roots of a tree.

You examined the ring further, noticing the name “Park” carved in hangul at its underside.

“Sunghoon-"

“It was my grandmother’s,” he began, stopping you mid sentence. He took the ring from your grasp and slid it down your wedding finger.

So many thoughts were running through your brain now. It was a tragedy how Sunghoon could switch from a complete monster to one of the most gentle creatures you've ever known during moments like this.

"It's beautiful," you admitted with a shaky voice.

He smiled. “You really think so?”

“Mhm,” you barely nodded, tears beginning to form in your eyes. You knew where Sunghoon was going with this, what he was going to ask you, and what your answer should be unless you wanted your tongue ripped from your throat. Sunghoon’s gesture likely arose for reason of you carrying his child. Though, you weren’t oblivious to his growing possessiveness of you. The crooked romance.

He took your hand in his and got on one knee, kissing your cold knuckles. He met your eyes, sporting a look on his face that you couldn’t quite read as you'd never seen his features so sickeningly soft.

“____, will you marry me?”

You fell to your knees at the question, even though you already knew it was coming. Meeting him on the ground, you fell into his arms, crying into the crook of his neck. The now familiar scent of him met your nostrils as your tears dampened his shirt.

Fuck, you could hardly pull yourself together.

Sunghoon smoothed the nerves of your back with the warmth of his hand, trying to calm you down. "Shh," he cooed, patting your head.

“I’m gonna need an answer soon, ____.”

Why wasn’t he forcing you into submission all of a sudden?

You broke from his embrace, wiping the tears that fell from your eyes. His hand was still busy running over your skin, trying his best to soothe you.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you looked him earnestly in the face, taking what felt like the deepest breath of your life. You knew it was for the best. You knew you couldn't say 'no.'

“I’ll marry you, Sunghoon.”

The tension in his body disappeared out of relief. He took your chin in his hand, kissing you on the lips this time, eyes fluttering at the pure bliss your taste brought him.

“Thank you, ____,” he smiled softly, “I’ll try my hardest to make you love me.”

꒷꒦ 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨…

“She’s pretty for nothing with a personality denser than a brick,” Kazuha whispered, taking a bite of her burrito.

“Too bad her baby daddy’s six feet underground. I guess that means child support isn’t an option anymore,” Maddison added, feigning a pout.

“As if her spoiled rich ass would need it anyway,” Kazuha went on, wiping some sauce from the corner of her mouth.

“Wanna trade lunches? I’ve got tuna on wheat with French fries," you chirped in between the two gossiping girls.

“Hell no! I’m keeping my chicken wrap, girly. Enjoy your canned fish.”

“Oh God, here she comes,” Maddison said with a mischievous grin, eyeing Wonyoung as she walked through the cafeteria.

“Do you think her skirt is way too high or is it just her long as fuck giraffe legs?” Kazuha asked facetiously.

“I’m surprised she got past the school entrance with that on,” you observed, taking a sip from your water bottle.

“Hell, if I had a brother that looked like Sunghoon, I’d totally be down for incest,” Maddison shamelessly admitted.

“That was so random, get some help, chick,” you laughed, nudging her shoulder.

“Ugh, fuck, yes! Yes! Just like that, don’t stop. Mmm, feels so fucking good! Nghh, I’m gonna cum,” Kazuha performed with screwed eyebrows as Wonyoung sat down a few tables across from you and your friends. "Was that convincing enough, Wonnie?" Maddison poked, grabbing a handful of your fries before launching them in her direction. Salt remnants from the fried snack decorated Wonyoung’s coal black hair. She hid behind her bangs, terribly embarrassed from all the harassment. “Aww, looks like she’s shy with the lights on, ladies!”

Wonyoung got up from her seat with haste, walking towards the cafeteria exit as she carried the lunch tray with such a grip that her knuckles turned pink.

“Oh, you want us to meet you in the bathroom? Such a dirty girl,” Maddison cackled.

Those were some of the same sounds that kept Wonyoung awake at night.

“How’s your brother doing?” You asked, redirecting her attention on you.

“Why?” Maddison inquired back, sounding offended by your question.

“Dunno. Just thought I should ask.”

She took a deep breath before answering, “Max’s condition isn’t really improving yet, but the doctors are doing everything they can to help him get better.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you and Kazuha said in unison.

“Don’t be. Being sorry is for homos, anyways.”

➠ monday -❆- present, one week later

9:30am

The hospital soon became a sweet place to you, an appreciated break from the basement you typically spent your days in.

Dr. Lee clarified the difficulties of distinguishing a baby’s gender as early as 13 weeks, but Sunghoon was desperate, scheduling you for a dating ultrasound.

Sunghoon wouldn't accompany you at the clinic today, due to academic obligations. In spite of his personal vendetta against you, he seemed genuinely serious about this new chapter in his life.

After stopping for breakfast at Café Royale, Sunghoon dropped you off at the hospital around 10 am, leaving for his first class of the day.

You made your way to the hospital’s fifth floor, greeting all of the friendly nurse faces that you'd grown to be more familiar with over the past week. There was a slight delay before Dr. Lee called you into his office.

"Good morning, Miss ____. Got any good rest last night," he asked, flipping through random sheets of paper on his famous clipboard.

"Morning, Heeseung. I don't work long shifts like you all week, so I really can't complain." Something about your comment made him smile.

"Oh, so I'm 'Heeseung' now? Or is that only when your boyfriend's not around?"

"Uh, it's not like that," you stammered.

"Relax, I was only teasing. You can take a seat on the metal bed for me and I'll be right with you," he said, rolling up his long sleeve turtleneck before slipping on a pair of blue latex gloves. "Alright, let's see what we have here," he began, sliding over in his rolling chair. He pulled your shirt over your stomach, massaging a clear gel against your lower abdomen.

"If I'm being honest, you seem nervous. Is everything okay, love?"

"Yeah, just a little anxious," you admitted, thinking about how desperately Sunghoon wanted a daughter, and the 50/50 chance he had at getting one.

"Well, I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about. Your recent blood work looks good, the baby glow is kicking in...you're in a good place, Miss ____."

"Ow," you winced at the pressure he applied to your stomach.

"Your baby bump is hardly noticeable, I'm surprised you felt anything, but discomfort is normal" he pointed out. "Everything feels great. He's gonna be a healthy fellow.”

“Or she," you blurted out.

"Of course. A little princess would bring all the more joy to you and Mr. Park's life... oh," he paused, running a finger over the scar above your navel.

“Was that from an impulsive high school belly button ring,” he laughed to himself, going to grab the x-ray handcamera. The memory of Sunghoon poking you with the knife reminisced in your mind. Shaking it off, you tried redirecting your mind on a different topic. “Not exactly,” you admitted, “I don’t think it’s best that you treat me anymore.”

Heeseung gave you an offended look through his glasses, temporarily retreating the x-ray from your stomach.

“What? Am I being too rough? I can be gentle, I swear! Or was it my dad jokes?”

You wanted to tell him the truth, tell him that Sunghoon was a psychopath who’d kill anyone he deemed a potential threat to his love. Deep down, you had feelings for Heeseung, and the sooner you cut off contact with him, the better. Not wanting to be responsible for taking away his smile, you came up with an excuse.

“I don’t wanna make anyone jealous.”

“Jealous? Who, Mr. Park? I mean, your boyfriend?”

The word 'boyfriend' floated around in your mind. What a horrendous word to describe your relationship with Sunghoon. You could hardly get over the fact that he was your fiancé.

A look waved over your features that led Heeseung to believe guess was right.

"Well, I'll finish up the ultrasound and give you a dvd copy of the footage for you and Sunghoon to watch at home."

"Home." All of this was becoming too much for you to handle right now.

“I know what it's like to deal with a paranoid partner, ____. I won’t persuade you to follow anything but your first mind.”

“Thank you for understanding, Heeseung,” you said as he ran the camera over your stomach, the mirrored TV showing the blurry scan of your uterus. "I'm just doing my job," he smiled, analyzing the screen with a finger. “It’s a girl,” he pointed as you tried to discern the image.

Pushing himself from the metal bed, he removed his gloves, grabbing two large disinfectant wipes from his desk, one for your stomach, and the other for the x-ray camera.

“I’ll send Mr. Park the credentials and office number of your new health provider after I sort some things out with another professional. You should expect to receive the necessary information by tomorrow evening.”

You took in all that he said, almost feeling like you made the wrong decision. Doctor visits wouldn't be nearly as enjoyable without Heeseung being there. Getting up from the metal bed, you tossed your purse over your shoulder, looking him in the eyes.

“I’ll see you next time,” you smiled, heading to the door. That was all it took for him to know that you didn’t actually want to stop seeing him.

“Oh, and ____?”

You turned, a happy smile displayed upon his face. He was so close to perfect, you could cry.

“It would make me, your baby, and the entire clinical staff exceedingly happy if you went home and ate a steak. Doctors orders and what not.”

A moment of silence filled the air before you laughed at his request, feelings a sense of joy dance in your stomach. A joy that Sunghoon tried so desperately to take from you.

"Alright, Dr. Lee. I won't let you down!" You replied, closing his office door.

Fabulous, now you have a crush on your doctor while secretly engaged to a ex ghost face killer who’s daughter you’re carrying.

➠ friday, a few days later

10:47pm

This was Sunghoon's very first time at a bar, and likely one of his last. Cosmetically, the establishment was a fan favorite, reeling in patrons on a hook of visual appeal. The menu offered a plethora of exciting drinks, ranging from vibrant fruity flavors to warm and creamy mixes. Still and all, the dreary atmosphere of the pub beckoned costumers in, lugging them into a depressive state that would linger til their hangover passed. For the lot of them, the aforementioned events would be relived again and again every Friday night after working a 9-5 job. They'd wash all their problems away with the help of a pricy drink and a few catchy songs before completely blacking out. Though, Sunghoon wasn't here for a half-decent time and cheap conversation. He was on a mission that involved a crowded environment with zero sober witnesses, a sharp knife, and the perfect victim: Maddison Dupont.

She was beautiful to say the least, with a radiant smile and cheekbones like a movie star.

Sunghoon remembered Maddison's hair being longer from when he last saw her at Wonyoung's funeral, but she cut it to her shoulders some time after, putting her natural brunette waves on full display. She wore a black leather jacker, black leather pants, and well, black leather booties. Sunghoon being the psychology major he was, had a habit of profiling people based off their appearance and body language.

'She's attractive and tall, wearing high boots with a short haircut. She wants to come off as intimidating, powerful, hence the natural makeup look. The all black get up likely alludes to hidden negative emotions, the parts of herself she wants to hide,' Sunghoon noted to himself, analyzing her from afar.

"I'll have a gin and tonic cocktail, with light ice this time," she said to the bartender, feigning an entitled persona.

"Hopefully you don't plan on ordering me around like this after my shift, Mads. You know I’m usually more dominant with women," the bartender replied, flashing her a smirk.

"Usually, huh? Is that an invitation?" She teased, using her tongue to seductively toy with a plastic straw, earning a shrug from the busy server as he prepared her cocktail.

"Depends."

She scoffed dramatically.

"Pfft. Why?"

"Because. From the looks of it, you use teeth," he replied, eyeing the way she nibbled at the tip of the straw.

"Oh c'mon! Don't be so vanilla-"

Screech.

Sunghoon pulled out a bar stool beside the talkative brunette, dragging it across the hard floor before taking a seat.

The bartender slid Maddison her drink, wiping the moisture from his hands before meeting Sunghoon's dark eyes. "Fresh face. Welcome in! What can I get for you tonight, sir?"

"Uhh, I'll start with a sample of your best whiskey and go from there," Sunghoon replied, glancing at the server's name tag: 'JAY PARK.'

"Hmm, we have the same last name," Sunghoon added, putting on a smile that Jay returned.

Maddison looked up from her cocktail, finally facing the mystery man who sat beside her. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sight of him before a light bulb went off in her head.

"Oh. My. God. If it isn’t Sunghoon-fucking-Park live and in the flesh. Please tell me you remember who I am," she pouted hopefully in her naturally raspy voice.

Maddison was always a fast talker, her friendly smile and youthful nature often winning her a sense of popularity and close companionship. It’s one of the main reasons why Sunghoon was here tonight. Despite Kazuha’s venomous tendencies, Maddison was the head “mean girl” back when Wonyoung was in high school. The primary instigator and initiator of every wrongdoing that his little sister endured up until her passing. For Sunghoon, letting Maddison live after everything that happened wasn’t an option. He decided to retire his ghost face attire after Kazuha, as it was only gonna get in the way of fulfilling his mission smoothly. After talking to a few of her colleagues, it was easy to determine Maddison’s precise whereabouts on a typical Friday night like this.

"Yeah, you went to high school with my sister. I could never forget that."

"I- I don't even know where to start! Uhm, you can call me Mads," she smiled, reaching out to shake his hand. Her breath hitched at the mere contact with his skin, sending a rush of nerves through her stomach. Or maybe it was the shots from earlier starting to kick in?

"Wow, I never thought you could get more handsome! It’s crazy how time flies, you know? Gosh, I used to have the biggest crush on you back then. Wonyoung hated me for it.”

I’m sure that wasn’t the only thing she hated you for, he thought to himself.

“Wait- I’m being rude! How've you been these days? It's been forever!"

Jay rolled his eyes at Maddison's gawking, his cheerful serving demeanor faltering in the presence of Sunghoon. It was barely two minutes ago that she was seducing Jay with a straw of all things, and now, the chances of him and her hanging out later were slim to none. He placed the bottle of whiskey back in its respective place on the alcohol shelf behind him, handing Sunghoon a short glass of the sample he'd ordered.

"I've been good, thanks for asking. College is kicking my ass at the moment, but there's this one girl who's been keeping me company. A sweet distraction, if you will."

He lifted the cup to his lips, taking a thick sip of the bronze drink before letting the flavors meddle on his tongue. It was an aromatic blend with notes of French vanilla, cinnamon, and hazelnut.

"What do you think," Jay asked, searching Sunghoon's features for any clue.

"It's delicious! I'll let you know if I need anything else."

"Of course," Jay bowed before busying himself with other costumers. That was better than watching Maddison ogle over Sunghoon Park for the next hour.

She noted that Sunghoon mentioned another girl, so she toned down her excitement.

"So, are you in school, too?"

"Nope. I forfeited all my scholarships after Max passed. I just didn't have the drive to do it anymore. Not without my twin," she paused, swallowing the lump in her throat before continuing.

"Now I work at a call center during the week and every Sunday, I volunteer as a tour guide for the city.”

Sunghoon simply nodded in response, the memory of murdering Max reliving itself behind his dark eyes. He wondered if Maddison's screams would sound anything like Max's did. They both had pretty big mouths, after all.

"I get where you're coming from. Sorry for your loss, Max was a good guy," Sunghoon said, forcing an empathetic expression upon his face.

"No worries, hun. We both know what its like to lose someone we shared the biggest part of ourselves with. The person we loved most," she replied, picking up her drink and holding it in the air. "A toast. To staying strong and treading on after all of life’s fucked up happenings," she added, showcasing her striking blue eyes.

"To surviving! Cheers," Sunghoon smiled, returning the gesture.

Clink.

Their glass cups collided, taking the final sip of their drinks in unison.

Sunghoon placed the empty glass on the countertop, tucking a one hundred dollar bill under the coaster before getting up from his seat.

"I'm gonna head outside for a bit," he said, walking toward the bar exit, disappearing into the black of the night.

Maddison placed a twenty under her drink, glancing at the exit before getting up from her seat.

Jay reached over the counter and grabbed her hand, eagerly trying to get her attention now.

She turned to face him, giving him an impatient look.

"Mads, you're not gonna go anywhere with him, are you?"

"Oh, please. Don't be so jealous-"

"I'm not being jealous. I’m looking out for you," Jay clarified, his voice sounding more serious.

"Just promise me you'll be careful."

"Jay."

"Promise me, Maddison!" Jay half-yelled in desperation.

She sighed, leaning over the bar and looking him I the eyes.

"I promise," she smiled softly, kissing the birthmark on his neck, causing his grip on her hand to loosen before completely letting go.

"And thank you, Jay. For everything! The cocktail was lovely," she added, giving him a playful high five.

“Any time, Maddie. See you around,” he replied, trying to mask the growing blush on his cheeks with coolness.

“See ya,” she waved, heading out of the bar to meet Sunghoon.

It didn't take long for her to spot him, standing beside his shiny black car. The sound of her boots hitting the damp pavement echoed through the parking lot, gracing Sunghoon’s keen ears.

Bingo.

"Nice car," she complimented, running a hand through her brown locks. Sunghoon didn't respond, simply unlocking the car and getting in the driver’s seat. His window's were rolled down, compelling Maddison to go against the very thing Jay just asked her not to do. Peering at him from where she stood, she placed her hands on her hips, voicing her request.

"Would it be too much if I asked you to take me on a joyride?"

11:19pm

Sunghoon was getting used to chauffeuring around naive young women after hours. He happily obliged to Maddison's foolish petition, as we both know he had other plans for her tonight.

“You’re not some kind of serial killer, right?” Maddison asked, about three minutes into the ride.

"Would you chicken out if I said yes?" Sunghoon teased her, gripping onto the steering wheel.

"You're cheeky."

"And you're playing a dangerous game with your life, young lady."

“Tell me about it,” Maddison replied nonchalantly, digging into her jacket pocket before pulling out a tiny cardboard box.

Click.

A warm light flickered beside him.

Click.

The sound of a hot flame against a dry object hit his ears.

Sunghoon finally looked away from the road to find that the source of the clicking was coming from the purple pocket lighter Maddison held in her hand, desperately trying to light a fresh cigarette.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sunghoon asked in disgust.

“Roll down a window or something,” she replied without meeting his eyes, inhaling the hot fog before blowing it past her plump lips.

“I don’t care if you wanna punish your lungs for keeping you alive everyday! Just don’t smoke in my fucking car!” Sunghoon reprimanded her through gritted teeth. He didn’t mean to raise his voice at her, but the anger was starting to override his composure.

“Has anyone ever told you how hot you get when you’re bossy?” Maddison joked, giving his tense thigh a playful squeeze.

Oh, the way Jay would cry just to hear her say that.

She stared out the window again, her thick brown waves following her movements.

“Would it kill you to respect my vehicle?”

All she did was snicker in response, a clicking noise filling the air as she toyed with purple pocket lighter once again.

She took a moment to yawn, reclining her jaw before answering. “Hmm. Probably not, but I don’t really care to find out, anyways.”

Click.

The tip of the cigarette burned red as she focused intensely on the simple action of lighting it.

Sunghoon looked from the road, eyes burning with rage as she put the cigar between her dry lips, inhaling yet another puff of toxins into her body.

Stretching her neck up, she blew the smelly cloud against the ceiling, staining the roof of his car and fogging out the windows.

He snatched the hot stick from her grasp, her head springing up immediately, eyeing him lustfully. “So we’re getting handsy now, I see. How would your girl feel about thi-“

Sunghoon shoved the red hot end of the cigar into her neck, sizzling her pale skin to a burnt hue.

“Ahh! You crazy bastard,” she yelped in shock, using her arm to push him away from her, but he had already parked somewhere in the forest, exiting the car with a harsh slam of his door.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going,” she yelled out for him, stammering from the vehicle with unstable steps.

She was way more drunk than she would’ve liked to admit, explaining her strange change in behavior.

By now, Sunghoon was walking into his log cabin, waiting patiently at the kitchen dining table for her to come out looking for him.

A kitchen knife sat idly on his lap as he gripped its handle in his right hand.

Maddison observed the cabin before running in, following the trail of dirt his shoes left behind him. Whipping around the kitchen corner, she spotted him at the table, laughing at a thought in her head. “Are you gonna declare a thumb war or something,” she cackled, not sure as to why Sunghoon ran to the kitchen of all places. She went to touch her neck, flinching at the sore he burned on her, reminding her why she chased after him in the first place. All he did was sit and stare at her, maintaining deadly eye contact. Maddison was far from intimidated, walking towards him with a dumb smirk on her face.

“You’re a freak, y’know that Sunghoon?” She spat, shaking her head again. “An empty-hearted spoiled freak!” She landed a harsh sting across his cheek, her own hand hurting from the act. Her chest heaved, trying to catch her breath from the minor exertion of energy. Her lack of sobriety was really taking a toll on her physically.

Screech.

Sunghoon pushed himself away from the table, standing up a few inches over her with the knife in his hand.

She simply glared at the weapon, chuckling to herself again.

“Is that supposed to scare me, little boy?”

He tilted his head at her ignorance, mirroring the smirk that rest upon her features. Playing with the tip of the knife, Sunghoon closed the space between her and him to the point where they were only a mere kiss apart.

“Hmm. Probably not, but I don’t really care to find out, anyways.”

The knife cut through her stomach like butter as she hurled over his hand, widening her eyes at the intense pain. He shoved the knife even further, causing a weak whimper to fall from her mouth. Guttural coughs filled the atmosphere as blood trickling down his hands from how closely the blade impaled her. Sunghoon pouted facetiously at how pathetic she appeared in front of him.

Releasing herself from the blade, she senselessly tried to run away. Though, Sunghoon could keep up with her hindered pace just by walking.

“Get the hell away from me!!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, the cigarette and lighter falling from her jacket pocket.

She made her way outside to the front porch, taking a seat against the closest tree she could get to before her strength ran out. Sunghoon soon met her outside, holding a jug of gasoline in one hand, and her purple lighter in the other.

She looked up from the puddle of blood she was creating on the grass, shaking her head in misery at the sight of this deranged Sunghoon.

“Please, don’t do this to me,” she sobbed, black tear marks from her eyeliner staining her cheeks.

Splash.

The pungent odor of the gasoline burned her nostrils as the cold substance leaked from her head to her lap.

“Oh my God,” she sniffled, squirming under his dark shadow.

Click.

“Speaking of, maybe God can roll down a window for you. Or… something,” he shrugged, tossing the lighter onto her lap as flames engulfed her entire body, the sounds and smells of death disturbing the tranquil forest air.

“Hmm, turns out her and Max do have the same screams.”

Maddison died within a few minutes, but her body continued to burn for the next hour or two. Sunghoon would eventually bury her corpse that morning once it cooled down, only to wash away the scent of smoke, blood, and any other trace of her for the remainder of his day. Afterwards, he would figure out what to do about his smoke show of a car.

What a lovely way to spend one’s weekend off.

➠ sunday

“I saw Maddison at the bar the other night.”

Your heart jumped at the name of your friend from high school. She went totally radio silent after her brother passed away. You remember her giving up sports and even college because of how broken she was after everything. You couldn't help but wonder how her life was turning out so far.

“Really?" You inquired eagerly. "What'd she say? How is she?”

“Dead,” he smiled sinisterly before sitting behind you, caging you between his long legs as he massaged your scalp.

You could feel your hands start to shake with a mix of different emotions, none of which being positive.

He really did it again.

“You said you wouldn’t kill anymore people.”

“She was the last person on my hit list, ____, and you know I have my reasons. Just be lucky that your relatives are still in the picture.”

You wouldn't put it past Sunghoon to hurt your family. He was a cold blooded killer and murder was like second nature to him.

“It’ll never stop with you. You'll never stop hurting people. You can't."

“Relax your mind, princess, stress isn’t good for the baby.”

“Neither is a deranged psycho killer for a father who keeps mommy locked up in a basement for days at a time, but what do I know? At least parent career day's at school will be interesting,” you thought to yourself.

Ahhh!

Sunghoon balled a handful of your hair in one fist at each side of your head, aggressively tugging at the strands.

You just realized that you said that out loud.

He pulled tighter as you held in your groans, forcing choked whines to spill from your lips.

“S- Sunghoon! Let go!” You whimpered, reaching for his feral grip on your hair with desperate hands.

He twitched in his pants at the agonizing sounds you made. He never understood why he found a terrorized you so arousing.

You felt your bottom lift from the ground before plopping back down with a loud thud, your scalp stinging with hot pain. Surely you had a few bald spots now.

“Massage time’s over,” Sunghoon growled before finally releasing his tantalizing grip from your hair, only for him to pin your wrists to the cold wooden floor. The look in his eyes was enough to have you scared shitless.

“I’ll show you just how deranged I am.”

He flipped you on your stomach, pulling your hips towards his bulge. Linking his fingers at the waistband of your underwear, he pulled your bottoms down to your knees, followed by his own.

He pried your legs open, revealing a string of wetness coating your swollen lips. He almost drooled at the sight, lining his tip at your throbbing hole before shoving himself in. He started to pump you from behind, squelching noises filling the rooms humid air. Tears started to pour over your eyelids, hitting the cold floor like raindrops. Sunghoon wanted to savor every ripple that made up your heat, but his desire to come caused him to thrust at an extreme pace, wobbly moans escaping your mouth. Your face was now flesh against the flood, his rough palm pushing into your cheek as you bounced against his pelvis, swallowing his cock. He leaned down, sticking the middle and index finger of his free hand into your mouth.

“Suck it,” he ordered, and you did, parting your mouth for him as your warm saliva coated his fingers. “Harder than that, princess,” he encouraged you, tightening your lips around his digits. You were started to feel dizzy from all the different sensations.

“Fuck” he grunted, flipping you on your back before pumping into you again at the same pace. He traced a tear that fell down your cheek with his tongue, leaning closer to whisper in your ear.

“Kiss me,” he nearly begged, grabbing at your jaw. You shook your head beneath him, pleading with your eyes for all of this to stop.

Slap.

You winced at the sting, a choked sob slipping past your lips. He forced your lips open with his hand, spitting in your mouth before dominating your tongue with his own, a string of saliva webbing from your lips to his as he broke from the sloppy kiss. You whimpered at his act, vision becoming blurry from the tears clouding your eyes. You reached up a hand to cover your sobs, the sounds being too gruesome even for your own ears.

“Don’t be shy, baby, I wanna hear how badly you want this, how good I’m making you feel.”

Your started to feel numb from all of his thrusting, regretfully clenching around him.

“So fucking good, baby,” he cooed, moving his hand down to stimulate your throbbing clit. He maneuvered the pallets of his fingers in circular motions against your sensitive spot, causing you to moan loudly.

“Look at you? Losing your mind all over my cock,” he leaned down, biting into your shoulder. “Come for me, yeah?”

You cried at the sharpness, arching your back. He was beyond delusional.

“That’s not an answer, baby.”

“F- fuck, Sunghoon, I can't t-take this anymore, just shut up” you whimpered, tears wetting the back of your head.

He held your knees at an angle, grinding into you like his life depended on it. You could tell that he was close because of how his thrusts quickened. You dreaded that you could feel your own climax taking over you, as your body tensed up before you came all over his dick. Shortly after, he painted your walls with warm spurts of his pearly release. Slowing down his movements, he ran his palms over your legs, trying to ease your shaking from the overstimulation. He kissed your lips one last time before pulling out, readjusting your clothes first before fixing his own. He lay down beside you, cradling your exhausted body in his arms before drifting off to sleep.

➠ tuesday

You’ve been living with Sunghoon for the past three months, and he was never one to feed you according to nutritional values. You weren’t sure if it was a part of punishment or simply a lack of consideration, but your daily diet was limited to canned foods or broth. So when you told Sunghoon that Dr. Lee advised you to incorporate more steak into your diet, he wasn’t too fond of listening.

Instead, he’d get dressed in hunting apparel, losing himself for the next hour before bringing you a slab of mystery meat that he wouldn’t even eat with you. He’d just rest it on your plate with a drizzle of olive oil, and tell you to ‘eat up.’

“I appreciate your gesture, Sunghoon, but I can’t help to ask what you killed for this?”

Sometimes, talking to him was like walking on egg shells. He always wore the same blank face, so you never knew if your words would earn you a harsh slap or kiss on the lips. You tried your best to season every sentence you spoke to him with propriety and respect. It was one of the only ways you knew to protect yourself.

He’d conceal the growing mischief that wanted to show as a smile on his face, simply pacing around the kitchen with his hands behind his back.

“Only the forest’s finest for my mother with child,” he teased.

“Sunghoon,” you pressed, not being in the mood for his sarcasm.

“I’ll tell you once you finish it. All of it. Now hurry before it gets cold,” he warned, taking a seat across from you.

The kitchen fell silent as you used a fork and knife to divide the meat into small bites. The taste was gamey, and rather tough in texture, but you commended Sunghoon on seasoning it well.

He stared intently at your every movement as if anticipating something.

You were about half way done when he stood up from the table, walking towards the kitchen pantry.

Sunghoon grinned to himself, reaching his arm into the closet and pulling out a female’s dead body from behind the door.

“She’s a little past her expiration date, but I’m sure she tasted splendid nonetheless,” he quirked, flashing you a grin so devilish that his fangs showed.

You looked down at your plate and noticed a strand of wavy brown hair sticking from under the meat.

Oh my God.

“Maybe we could start selling “prime Maddison” at the market! Talk about a limited time offer!” Sunghoon laughed as if their was an audience. Meanwhile you were on the verge of vomitting.

Sunghoon was gripping Maddison’s corpse by a handful of her hair, a few of her once beautiful teeth missing from her swollen black gums. He punched her skull in the face, using the hair as a way to maneuver his newfound punching bag, chunks of decay flying from his knuckles. You assumed he got bored of that as he dropped her body, walking over to the windowsill before picking up a steaming pot.

“Bone appétit,” he chimed, pouring the contents of the hot pot into a small bowl for you. Human teeth were swimming in the mixture, with what appeared to be a few toes in there, too.

“Eat it!” Sunghoon ordered, beating on the table with death stained fists. Tears poured from your eyes like waterfalls as he screamed his lungs out, spit flying from his agressive commands.

Growing impatient, he walked around the table, grabbing you by the throat.

“I said eat it, you stupid bitch!”

You woke up heaving for air, your clothes clinging to your body from your night sweats. You looked around, but the room was so dark that you couldn’t see anything. “Sunghoon!” You called out for him, but to no avail. You were completely alone in the basement, like you always were, but a part of you desired comforting so desperately. You wanted him to hold you close and make you feel safe.

Though, it’s hard to feel safe in the arms of someone you’re deathly afraid of.

You felt the urge to cry creeping up on you, but you decided to lay back down instead, wincing as your sore scalp sunk into the pillow.

Thankfully, this was all just a very bad dream.

꒷꒦ 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨…

Sunghoon and his figure skating group wanted to take a camping trip during their break from training. The team coach promised to finance the rest of the trip if they raised $300 organically by the following week. Wonyoung offered to help by hosting a bake sale at her school. With her free-time after class, she visited the library in search for a French patisserie recipe book. Meanwhile, Sunghoon was at the grocery store, shopping for fresh fruit, overly expensive dark chocolate, and whatever other ingredients his sister outlined on the list. She paced through the book shelves, noticing a group of jocks huddled around a table. Tuning in an ear, she eavesdropped on their conversation, continuing to analyze the book catalogs.

“Bro, I think he got her pregnant,” she heard one of the boys whisper, stopping her dead in her tracks.

“I don’t even believe he’s slept with her before,” another guy added.

“Mhm, and why’s that?”

“First of all, Sunghoon would kill him, second of all, she’s a literal child.”

“Shit, I’d sleep with her in a heartbeat. Child or not, we can do it at the playground if that makes her more comfortable," Maddison's twin brother grinned slyly.

“Gross, Max, she’s like your cousin's age."

“Jun-Hwan said something about Wonyoung practicing her moans for him?”

“Yeah, probably while he was pumping her with his baby batter. I hope she knows that’s not how you make cupcakes.”

The boys burst into laughter, earning an aggravated look from one of the librarians.

“Sorry,” Max mouthed quietly.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be. I bet Sunghoon’s already writing you punks down on his “do not admit” list,” the one with glasses retorted, getting up from the table before leaving the obnoxious group.

Wonyoung was still listening from behind the book shelf, swallowing the lump in her throat that dared to flatten into tears. She tried reminding herself of what Sunghoon would tell her everyday.

“Ignore the rumors, don’t let them take away your smile, Wonyo.”

Though, these words sat in the back of her mind as she made her way over to the jocks table, unintentionally balling her fists.

“Who told you that?” She inquired with a clenched jaw, interrupting their perverted gossip session. They looked as if they’d seen a ghost at the sight of her, completely speechless as they simply stared back. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Oh my God, just spit it out!” She yelled, not trying to keep her voice down anymore.

“Jun-Hwan did,” one of them shyly admitted, not meeting her face out of shame.

Wonyoung went to find Jun-Hwan, hoping that he would deny sharing things about her and their breakup behind her back. She knew exactly where to find her ex-boyfriend after school. It was the same place they'd usually meet to fool around: an abandoned bunker near the bleachers because Jun-Hwan hated anything too cliché.

She crawled into the bunker, finding Jun-Hwan with his tongue down some girls throat. Wonyoung didn't recognize her, but from the looks of it, she was around her age. The horny youths disconnected their lips with a wet pop at the realization of Wonyoungs presence. The girl hid her face in Jun-Hwan's shoulder while he met Wonyoung's anxious features.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true, Wonnie?”

“That you told people about us? About me?”

“God, would you slow down with all the questions? I was kind of in the middle of something here," he spat, pointing a hand at the girl who straddled him.

“Please don’t make me ask you again, Jun.”

He let out an annoyed sigh, “Okay. Fine. Yes. I told people. I don’t get why you have a problem with that, though.”

“Jun, I asked you not to tell anyone about us.”

“Yeah, when we were together. But you wanted to break up, remember?”

“You know that decision wasn’t up to me. Why’re you being so cruel all of a sudden? You could at least pretend to care about my feelings.”

“Hey, Wonyoung? Fuck off, alright? I don’t have time for your juvenile high school bullshit. Now go finish making fruit tarts with your brother or something.”

The saddened girl adjusted the backpack strap over her shoulder, wiping away the moisture that fought to escape her eyes.

“Okay,” Wonyoung whispered. “I’ll see you around, Jun-Hwan. Sorry for bothering you.” She sniffled one last time before crawling out of the bunker and beelining back home.

➠ wednesday, present

9:04am

Sunghoon dropped you off at the hospital for another check-up right before class. He gave you $50 in bills of five to last you til he came back. Still shaken from last night's events, it took you ten minutes just to work up the courage to sign-in for your appointment with Dr. Lee.

"Right this way, Miss ____. Feel free to wait in the visitor's lounge until Dr. Lee gets back. It's rare that any of our patients have visitors, so you should feel more comfortable there," the friendly nurse smiled, completely aware of your fragile emotional state. You took heed to the nurse's advice, entering the visitors lounge before taking a seat at one of the tables. You were thankful for the dim lightening of the empty space as you felt an intense panic frazzle your senses. Holding your own hands in an attempt to comfort yourself, you tried redirecting your attention on controlling your breaths. Looking down, you noticed the darkening bruises on your wrists from Sunghoon's abuse, pulling down your sleeves to cover the marks.

"____?" A concerned voice called from behind you, resting a hand on your shoulder. Your body jumped at the feeling, immediately relaxing as you turned to meet Heeseung.

You were unaware of your own tears streaming down your cheeks until Heeseung reached out to capture the droplets with the back of his hand. That's when he noticed the scuffs on your cheek from Sunghoon forcing your face into the floor, dried-up blood poking through your exposed scalp.

"Oh my God, what happened to you?" He asked, kneeling down to meet your height in the chair.

Your lips quivered into a frown as you shook your head frantically, shutting your eyes tightly at the memory:

“I’ll show you just how deranged I am.”

Before you could realize it, Heeseung was already holding you in his arms as you wailed into his shoulder. He ran a hand down your back, trying to soothe your nerves.

"Sunghoon... h-he's a monster," you confessed, telling Heeseung everything in your moment of weakness. You told him about Wonyoung, Kazuha, and Maddison. You told him about the log cabin and the things Sunghoon did to you in private. You couldn't keep hiding your pain anymore.

“____," he began with a sorrowful expression, breaking from the hug, "it’s not too late to get rid of the baby.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in frustration, “Why the hell would you even suggest that? I have to keep her! She's my child!”

“He assaulted you, ____, and your child will have to live everyday of her life knowing that. I won't persuade you into making a decision, but either way, I will do everything in my ability to get you the help you need.”

Your gaze fell to the ground as you tried to process all of your options.

"Hey," Heeseung said, grabbing your chin to meet his face again.

"I need you to listen to me when I say that I can't just let you go. Not with Sunghoon, and not without a fight."

You stared into Heeseung's glistening eyes, kissing him in the heat of your emotions. He pulled back, looking at your desperate features before diving back in, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. You used your weight to pin him on the ground, melting into his honey-like touch as he explored your nervous skin.

Something about this moment felt different from the dark affection you'd grown used to from Sunghoon.

Heeseung felt light, energizing your entire body from the outside in. His body was warm and smelled like lilac, a new yet welcoming scent. Snaking a hand under your shirt, he fondled with your breasts as you trailed your own hand down to his bulge, palming him gently. He moaned into your mouth before you broke from the kiss, already missing the heat of his tongue against yours.

Looking down at his frame, you took in his disheveled hair, wrinkled shirt, and flushed cheeks. Retreating your hand from his hardness, you were reminded of the silver band that rested upon your ring finger.

"What is it," Heeseung asked, still trying to steady his breathing.

"I... it's...," you stuttered in a quiet voice, "Sunghoon and I are engaged.” An empty feeling washed over you at the unfortunate reality.

“Y-you...what?”

“He asked me to marry him last week, and...I said yes.”

Your confession meddled in the air for a moment, before Heeseung swore to himself, guiding you off of his lap.

“Forgive me, ____. I should've listened when you said we should stop seeing each other,” he frowned, considering how unprofessional his actions were.

Standing up from the ground, he offered a hand to lift you from the floor.

"This isn't your fault, Heeseung," you said, fixing your tussled clothes.

"None of that matters, right now, love," he replied, readjusting the collar of his shirt. "You need to figure out what you want to do about your circumstances and quick. Before it's too late."

➠ three days later, thursday

9:47pm

Sunghoon came back to the cabin later than usual. Unlocking the basement door, he broke through the staleness, hanging his jacket over one of the chairs.

“Where’ve you been?” You inquired tepidly, tucking away the origami deer you were folding into the psychology book that supplied the paper you used.

“It’s Wonyo’s birthday today, so I visited her grave on my way back," he said, walking over to meet you on the bed. "I forgot to ask the other day. How was the doctor?”

“Fine," you simply replied.

Sunghoon shook his head in disappointment before snapping like a rubber band, pulling you from the bed and pushing you against the wall.

“Remember, ____, this isn’t a get out of hell free card just because you’re carrying my child,” he hissed in between your squirms, “I will not hesitate to kill the both of you if you continue to disrespect me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You raised your voice at him, struggling in his grip.

“You didn’t think I’d find out about you sliding second base with the cute older doctor? Huh?” He asked rhetorically, gripping at the neck of your nightgown and shaking you like a rag doll.

“Sunghoon, stop it!” You yelled this time, earning yourself a harsh slap across the face. You felt one of your teeth puncture your upper-lip from the force, a metallic taste filling your mouth.

“What’d you tell him? And don’t you dare fucking lie to me!”

Your eyes screwed shut in fear at the intensity of the situation.

Why did things always have to escalate to such extremes with him?

“TELL ME EVERYTHING!” He growled impatiently, grabbing you by the throat with veiny hands.

“The baby’s dead!”

Silence.

His grip around your neck loosened before tightening again, “Bullshit, you fucking whore!”

“I’m serious, Sunghoon,” your voice cracked, eyes burning red from the brief loss of air.

He stopped his ministrations, searching your face for any uncertainty, any clue that you were lying.

“Th-that can’t be true, ____,” he could hardly meet your eyes.

“We lost her, Sunghoon. She’s gone.”

“For the sake of my sanity, tell me you’re lying! Tell me this is all apart of your plan to escape me.”

“I’m not like you, Sunghoon."

“What're you saying,” he asked, legs feeling numb from the pure dread that tainted his blood.

“I’d never lie to you.”

He fell at his knees, pulling you down by the shoulders with him. Cradling you in his arms, he guided your head to his chest, weeping into your embrace. This was your first time seeing Sunghoon cry, his dark eyelashes soaked with tears, pouty lips falling victim to an acute trembling. If it wasn’t for his agressive heartbeat, you would’ve thought he was dying from the sounds he made. Though, to be honest, it’s like apart of him did die.

“This world just won’t let me have anything at all, will it?”

➠ friday

6:05am

“____? ____, wake up!” Sunghoon nudged your sleepy frame excitedly.

“What, what is it?” You answered with a groggy voice.

“I made you breakfast.” He said, handing you a banana.

You ignored the 'breakfast' he held in his hand, “Why?”

“I wanna go somewhere.”

“What’re you talking about? I’m stuck here, remember?”

“Just eat up so you can get dressed.”

All of this excitement was too much for you process so early in the morning. “Sunghoon, just tell me all of this is about.”

He took your hands in his, smiling wide enough for his dimples to show. “I’ll tell you after you eat and get dressed. I promise.”

You sighed. “Okay.”

Why was he acting nice all of a sudden?

7:10am

Sunghoon took you to a familiar looking spot in the woods, about forty-five minutes from his log cabin. By now, you had gotten used to being Sunghoon’s passenger princess, but you didn’t understand his reasons for wanting to take you somewhere. He parked his infamous black car along a brick trail, cutting the engine before exiting the vehicle.

“Follow me,” he smiled, leading you to a lover's picnic area. A large white sheet rested on the ground, grassy rocks holding down each corner. There was a woven basket with a bottle of wine and a few pieces of bread wrapped in knitted cloths. “Come. Sit!” He urged as you met him on the picnic mat. The sounds of morning wind rustling through tree leaves filled the air as you observed your surroundings.

“Okay, Sunghoon. I ate the monkey fuel, got dressed, and now we're here. Why?”

He chuckled at your odd sense of humor, closing the distance between you on the sheet.

“Look. I know this may sound crazy, but… I wanna try again.”

You wished you misheard him, feeing you heart skip a beat at his suggestion. “Excuse me?”

“I’m talking about a baby, ____. I want another chance.“

“Sunghoon-”

He interrupted your sentence by cupping your face in his hands. “I gave you a choice with the marriage, but this time I’m telling you.” His smile faltered into a dour expression, a greedy hand traveling up to the base of your thigh.

“I want this from you, and you’re going to give it to me.”

A nauseous sensation hit your stomach, feeling disgusted by his chronic insanity.

Grabbing a fist full of dirt, you stunned him in the eyes before taking off in the distance. At this point, you were quite seriously running for your life, a natural adrenaline carrying you across the rocky path at an intense speed.

“____!” Sunghoon called out, dusting the dirt from his eyes before chasing after you.

Your feet and heart pounded in unison with the same vigorous effort, ignoring the voice that told you to look back. You thought to hide somewhere and catch your breath, but you knew had to keep running.

You had to survive.

Following the same path that Sunghoon took to get you there, the sight of civilization encouraged you just enough to run for a few more minutes.

That’s when you spotted a red car parked near the public garden you passed on the way. You couldn’t run any longer or else your legs would give out of you, so you hid behind the seemingly vacant vehicle, only to hear the sounds of slow footsteps approaching you.

You shut your eyes, repeating a prayer to yourself over and over again.

“____," a familiar voice called out, "what’re you doing by my car? I-is everything alright?”

“Heeseung!" You yelped, jumping from your initial crouching position and subconsciously clinging to him. "You have to help me!"

“Hey, relax, alright,” he cooed, bracing your lack of balance with his hands.

“It’s Sunghoon,” you forced out in between heavy breaths, chunks of sweaty hair sticking to your forehead. “He wants another baby, and now he’s after me.”

Heeseung wasted no more time speaking before unlocking his car and hiding you on the backseat floor, getting in the driver’s seat himself.

That’s when Sunghoon came running out of the thick of the woods, still calling after you like a madman.

Observing the public garden, he rationalized with himself that you couldn’t have gotten too far beyond this area. From the outside, he appeared to have barley even broken a sweat, but his core burned with a bloodthirsty hellfire.

Narrowing his eyes, Sunghoon spotted Heeseung sitting idly in the red vehicle, parked with the window slightly rolled down.

“Hello, Mr. Park. Taking an evening jog?” Heeseung called casually at the sight of Sunghoon, trying to mask any obvious suspicion.

“More or less. It’s great to see you, Dr. Lee! How’ve you been?” Sunghoon inquired, feigning consideration.

“Good, thankfully. Though, I have work at the clinic today, so I should really get going,” he replied, rolling up the window before Sunghoon hit the tinted glass.

“Wait!” He pleaded, his inner emotions now reflecting on his sullen features.

Heeseung sighed dramatically, trying to convey urgency. “I’m really in a hurry here, Mr. Park, and I can’t risk being late.”

“Just tell me the truth,” Sunghoon tried.

“Did ____ actually lose the baby?”

Heeseung fell quiet for longer than Sunghoon appreciated, but he waited patiently for an answer. The kind-hearted man took his glasses off, folding them in half before setting them in the empty passengers seat. He met Sunghoon’s weakened eyes, feeling compelled to answer him honestly.

“____ didn’t lose the baby, Mr Park. She had an abortion.”

Pop.

The single thread holding back Sunghoon’s rage broke at the confession, lashing out in a kicking tantrum against Heeseung’s car. He wanted so desperately to see the crimson exterior dent from the force, but his depleting strength failed him. You could feel a new force pulsing from the front of the vehicle, rocking your body against the backseat floor. With balled fists, Sunghoon smashed the hood of Heeseung’s car, a string of curse words flying from his mouth like venomous wasps.

Heeseung fired the ignition, gripping his hands on the steering wheel. “Move out of the fucking way!” He warned, honking the horn a few times to scare him, but Sunghoon was hardly phased. He pulled out a gun, pointing it at Heeseung’s head from the behind the windshield, “Get the fuck out of the car. NOW!”

Heeseung was left with no other choice but to obey, abandoning the vehicle and getting on his knees before him.

“Do you have any idea how many people I’ve killed before? I’m sure ____ told you all about it, didn’t she?” Sunghoon asked, pacing back and forth. “The only thing is, I’ve never murdered anyone with a gun before,” he smirked sinisterly, imagining the way Heeseung’s eye balls would burst from their sockets as the bullet penetrated his skull. The frightened doctor kept quiet, afraid that saying the wrong thing or anything at all might shorten his life. Sunghoon fiddled with the tip of the weapon, “You deserve this, anyway. Slutting it up with my fiancé, taking away my child, and daring to look me in the face with that phony fucking smile.”

Screech.

You hopped in the front seat of Heeseung’s car, putting it in reverse before making eye contact with Sunghoon, hitting him straight on.

Crash.

You weren’t sure if Sunghoon’s limp body was underneath or in front of the car, but the sight of Heeseung kicking the deadly weapon a few feet away let you know that everything was gonna be alright.

You ran to hug him out of relief, several emotions taking over you. The once uproarious atmosphere fell quiet, as neither of you could think of anything to say. And frankly, there wasn’t much left to say, anyway.

The ten minutes that passed by felt like hours before the ambulance arrived at the scene, police investigator’s barricading the park with yellow tape. Upon retrieving Sunghoon’s body, the emergency team announced him to be in a state of deep unconsciousness from the collision: a coma. You were granted special visitor privileges because you were his fiancé, but you couldn’t have cared less to stay informed on the status of his well-being. The idea of him being incapable of eating on his own or even speaking for the next weeks or few months granted you an indescribable feeling of light.

Though, this was far from your story’s end.

➠ monday, two months later…

You tried to live a normal life after everything that happened. Giving up on your college dream, you picked up work at a cafe until you got used to normal again. You and Heeseung remained close friends, as the two of you shared a pretty dark part of your lives together. He also helped you overcome the nightmares you suffered from.

It went without saying that Sunghoon passed away. The part of you that still cared about him even brought flowers to his grave, but you never attended his funeral. Honestly, you doubt that anyone even arranged one for him.

Time went on, and you fell in love with your new life, still carrying scars with you that not only reminded you of a painful journey, but one that you survived.

Ding.

That was the sound of the bakery’s entry bell, letting you know that a costumer had just walked in. “Welcome to Café Royale,” you announced cheerfully out of habit, wiping crumbs from the front counter before meeting the fresh face at the register. The man stood tall with silky platinum hair, stunning eyebrows, and a killer jawline.

“Hello! How may I treat you today, sir?”

“Hmm, I’ll have an iced vanilla latte, with a sample of your classic tiramisu, if you don’t mind,” he smiled, flashing his pointy fangs.

“Of course! That’ll be 3.95, please,” you said, taking the five dollar bill he handed you. One of your employees whipped up his order in the back, passing it to you in less than a minute. You placed the plastic cup of coffee and tiramisu sample on a wooden tray, handing it to the charming costumer.

“Enjoy,” you chirped with a smile, ignoring the rush of butterflies that ran through your stomach.

“Thank you,” he replied, taking the platter and walking off. You watched as his footsteps come to a halt, turning on a heel before meeting you at the counter again.

“Do I…” he began, titling his head to take in your profile, “have we met before?”

❅ Thank you for reading @chlorinecake ‘s “Blood On Ice” Part 2! Make sure to check out more fun reads on my enhypen bookshelf!

❅ You can read part one of this series here!! 🎂

✎ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

taglist: @ashgonedash @nikilvr @ttokyoobv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @fightqueen @addictedtohobi @sltfohoon @lisaaannna @beomgyusonlywife @casualcloddeputyherring @calichuchies-blog @devqrasgirl @rhiannass @fanficfactoryfoxxx @lovelycassy

[patchoulimademoiselle]

Bat Shit Crazy. (Part 2)

Bucky Barnes x Reader Fic

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: language, sub/dom dynamic, large age gap, smut, praise kink. Reader has bpd, and a personality switch takes place. Bucky cusses you out in Russian. All the good stuff.

Summary: Your first mission together in a while doesn't exactly go as you expected it to. 

Notes: This fic is dark, and it only gets darker. This is more Winter Soldier Bucky in terms of behavioral traits and dynamics with other characters. This is not a soft lovey dovey style fic, and if that bothers you DO NOT READ. 

Masterlist

You savor Bucky being home, home, as if you can call it that without a guilty conscience. Your trigger finger is itching by the time you’re assigned a new mission, but you’re disappointed to find that its only recon, and it’s in harsh winter terrain.

Your black tactical gear has been switched for white, a thick winter coat and light colored combat boots. The air is crisp, stinging the tip of your nose every time you inhale. You hate recon, and you hate whatever country this is, Russia maybe? You have a bad habit of not paying attention during mission briefings. You are not the brains in this equation. More like a secret weapon hidden in a small frame, so as you find a million ways to distract yourself, Bucky soaks up the details like a sponge.

Your short attention span does bother him, one day it can cost you your life if you aren’t careful. But the dynamic between you tends to work with it, he gives you a shorter version on the way to the drop sight, and you have signals assigned between each other as code. You can never ignore a signal. That’s the deal between you. It’s all fun and games until you take it too far, he has warned you so many times that it will cost you everything.

I will not let you kill me and yourself by being reckless, the warning replays in your head and it sends a shiver down your spine, you reach to grab his arm, struggling to keep up with his pace.

“Bucky,” You smile, a little breathless. “I’m dying here.”

“You’re fine.” He says, “Tighten up.”

This is who he is, traces of his training are hidden in everything he does, his life before this making him cold and rough around the edges. But here, stalking through the snow, like a predator searching for prey, you can sense how dangerous he really is. There are traces of the winter soldier still in him, and it concerns him to know that it excites you. Those rough edges will do more than cut you one day, but for now, he is no more dangerous to you than a guard dog to its owner, loyal, trusting. You know he will die before he lets you get hurt.

You trust him, so you tighten up, fighting through the burn in your thighs as you continue uphill for what feels like hours. The hike only takes about two before he’s signaling you to stop, his footsteps stopping abruptly.

You hear nothing, but as you look up at his face, you know he senses something. He starts to crouch, you follow his lead until you’re both belly down in the snow. He sets up the rifle that was hanging on his shoulder, using it to survey the area.

“What is it?” You’re close enough to talk into his ear, voice barely audible in the air around you.

“This is a high traffic area,” His voice is so low, the thickness of it making it hard to hear. You strain, faces touching, “Their camp must be close.” They, you weren’t sure who, that’s the whole point of this. “Mark these coordinates. We have to move soon.”

 You reach into his coat pocket, slowly, pulling out the sat nav Tony had designed for the team, marking your coordinates, entering a note of high traffic, before returning it to his pocket.

Bucky must feel sure of himself, because he turns his head to you now, lips almost touching as he says, “Remember your training, what do you see?”

You want to kiss him, a few stray strands of hair fall over his forehead, the fur lining of his coat hood makes him look so much younger, normal, as if you weren’t on a recon mission in the snow. A young couple going on a camping trip, a winter hike in the woods to get away from your busy lives.

But then you look into his eyes, dark, cold, a trained soldier focused on the task at hand, and you know he would kill you himself if you tried to distract him.

So you turn your head, looking at the trees in front of you. He watches you as you say, “A disadvantage.” And you swear you see the corner of his lips twitch up in a smile.

“Good girl.” Then he’s sitting up, slowly. “We’ll have to go around, find higher ground.” He extends a hand to you, you take it, and he pulls you up out of the snow. “Keep your eyes moving.” You're shocked at his change in attitude, an unfamiliar gentleness in his tone.

You don’t remember the last time he seemed so carefree on a mission like this. It must be a lighter feeling compared to what he just went through with Steve, but he has never let his guard down so much with you. He is always on edge, expecting you to fuck up somehow.

But he seems to trust you here, or maybe he’s testing you. Either way, you’re grateful for it. You don’t feel like you’re walking on eggshells, he trusts you, and that means more than he can know.

You think he senses it, his eyes lighter when you stand.

He wants you, you recognize this stance, that stare, there are memories floating behind his eyes, his seemingly innocent touch isn’t so innocent, his hand lingering, hesitating to let you go.

But you’re too exposed here, the reality of your situation setting in and ruining the moment as flurries of snow fall between you. A smile breaks across your face, pulling your hand from his to catch a snowflake.

“We need to move.” He’s back, your window of opportunity has closed, shoving your shoulder to force you backwards, you turn, walking away from the spot you had just laid in the snow, away from the moment you just shared.

He lets you lead, you aren’t sure why, his eyes watching your every move. But it doesn’t feel invasive, doesn’t feel threatening at all. It feels protective, guiding. You embrace this dynamic.

It is hard for him to let you be yourself sometimes. Aloof, just a young girl still trying to navigate the world compared to his hardened persona. A part of him knows he is ruining you, exposing you to a darkness you would have never known if you hadn’t become so close. Your life was troubled before him, but he knows he is only fueling the fire, teaching you to dance along with the flames, teaching you to embrace the pain of the burn.

But you don’t seem to notice it yet, and he couldn’t ever find it in himself to let you be. So you stay this way, wild, careless, continuously dancing on the edge. Because he is there to catch you, even if he is the reason you fall.

But most of the time, you take yourself there, filled with an anger he hasn’t helped you control yet, a recklessness that comes from a hard life, not caring what happens, needing a thrill to make it all worth it.

Like right now, a lapse in judgment, a fallen log up ahead, you jump on it, trying to balance, but it collapses under your weight, the sound of wood cracking echoes into the air around you, no doubt traveling for miles.

You freeze, knowing you fucked up, knowing that if you get out of this alive, you will be tortured for this mistake. But you don’t really have time to think about the consequences, Bucky is grabbing you by the hood of your coat, pulling you into a run.

It’s choaking you, the zipper digging into your skin, but you don’t dare complain, letting him pull you as you run, stopping when you’ve reached a good distance. He pushes you against a tree, thick enough to cover you, then presses himself in front of you, shielding you both.

His jaw is clenched, breathing erratic as he tries to calm himself, there’s an anger in his eyes that you know will come with a harsh punishment later. You wait there, minutes go by, no one comes. And as soon as he knows it’s clear, his anger is directed at you.

“How stupid can you be?” His voice is strained, trying to control his volume.

“Oh please, we’re fine!”

He clamps your mouth with his hand, “Заткнись.” Shut the fuck up. He hardly ever speaks in Russian to you, he taught you in case of emergency, but you know this is only a display of anger, “Вам повезло, что вы живы.” You are lucky to be alive.

And just like that, the good feeling is gone. The trust, the security, everything that made this feel easy, gone. You shove his hand away, trying your hardest to bite down your own anger. How silly of you to think that this would be different, that you could lighten up and enjoy his good mood.

You say nothing else, watching as he pulls out the sat nav, marking your location and making a note.

Your cheeks are hot, with mostly embarrassment, watching him struggle to control his anger.

You almost compromised the entire mission, taking it too far, searching for the wrong kind of thrills. The only excitement you are allowed here, with a man like him, is from squeezing a trigger.

His eyes burn into you as you hold your hand out, not asking, demanding to take his riffle. If there is anything he can trust in you, it is your anger, allowing your darkness to consume you and help you push through. He knows he doesn’t have to worry about anything else happening, allowing you to take it.

It feels cold, heavy, a physical translation of the burden that sits on your shoulders.

You are not just a girl anymore. You are a trained soldier, you are a weapon.

This is where you will find your purpose. This is where you will find all the thrill you will ever know. This is what he wants you to be.

Bucky leads you deeper into the woods, the trees becoming taller, thicker, the change in terrain tells you that you are closer to their base, the uphill hike turning into flat ground. Your disadvantage is lost, eyes scanning the trees for movement, for traces of life.

Before long, you hear it, voices, only a few meters ahead of you. A watch post no doubt. Bucky raises a closed fist, signaling you to stop. You freeze. Rifle raised to scope the area. You can not see them, but the fact that they are close enough to hear makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

He holds two fingers up, waving them in a circular motion, signaling you to go around. It’s a simple maneuver, one that you’ve done many times. It feels like muscle memory, you nod to him, side stepping through the snow to circle around the area. You’re light on your feet, securing the rifle to your back, footsteps silent as you follow the sound of their voices.

Three men, armed with assault rifles, military grade. They are camouflaged, it takes you a moment to spot them. And in the distance, beside a tree, you see Bucky, eyes locking. He marks your coordinates, then signals you to keep moving.

A few feet out, when their voices start to fade, you circle back, taking a moment to find cover behind a tree, making sure it is clear before you speak. “There will be more of them.”

“I know,” You can barely see his eyes from under your hood, but his voice tells you he is tense, “We need to find a vantage point to stake out.”

You take your rifle in hand, following him through the trees. The snow feels more compact here, walked on over and over, another heavy foot traffic area. You are close, too close. Your pace is slow, cautious as you search for any vantage point. A slight hill, no doubt used as a watch post, You watch as Bucky reaches down to pull a knife from his ankle, arming himself in case of an encounter.

But to your luck, no one is there to greet you when you reach the top of the hill.

You’re quick to set up a stake out post, unloading the pack you brought with you, setting up a scope on your riffle. Bucky pulls out and energy bar, opening the wrapper and handing it to you. You lay flat on your belly, taking an occasional bite, until you find a foot soldier, about a hundred yards out.

You follow him, you can feel Bucky watching as you shift to the right, he leads you right to their base, a small camp with two tents and a fire. There are two ATV’s parked to the far left of their camp, a group of foot soldiers guarding each tent.

“I’ve got them.” You scoot back, giving him room to take his spot so that he can see for himself.

You watch as he lays flat as a board, settling in to where you’ve positioned the rifle. You dig into your pack, pulling out the canteen you brought, taking a sip of water.

“Good girl.” The praise does nothing to excite you, not after earlier, you simply watch him in silence. “Let me take first watch, use the sat nav to make a map.”

You reach into his pocket, retrieving the device. Inside your pack, pen and paper, an old school style of marking your territory. But you realize you may need it on case you two are ever separated, in case you need a backup plan. You do your very best, marking your stake out post first, then a hundred yard out as you have just discovered, their base. You mark the exact coordinates of where you are, and of where you found the first watch post.

By the time you are done, your energy bar is done, the water a quarter gone. You tap his side, “What do you see?”

“There must be another watch post twenty-five yards out in the opposite direction,” He points with two fingers. “They switch out in groups of three, but it seems to be at alternating times from the other post we first saw.”

“You should go find out, I’ll stay here and keep watch.” He looks at you then, his face is expressionless, you can’t read him, but you know he’s thinking something. “I’ll be fine, we have a job to do.”

He sits up, letting you take back your post. He fills up on an energy bar and takes a few sips of water while he goes over the map you made for him. You burned a lot of energy hiking up hill, the first thing he ever taught you was to conserve your energy, always refuel as soon as you are safe.

His hand on your shoulder, crouching to look at you. “Don’t move from this spot.” That darkness in his eyes return, a promise to let the world burn if something happens to you. He rests his forehead against yours, a goodbye, a promise to return, and that if he doesn’t he died trying.

Nothing else matters in a moment like this. Every time you separate, it could easily be the last time you see each other.

And then he’s gone, footsteps silent as he leaves your post. You don’t dare leave, watching their camp with complete focus. You want to know what they are protecting, who they are protecting. Why so many guns for just two little tents in the fucking woods? You focus on the tent flaps, the soldiers that come in and out. You see nothing useful, deciding to focus on the soldiers themselves. Their commander has a com system, tech too advanced to be just an ex-military group like you originally thought. Their ATV’s are unregistered, fake plates that are no doubt a cover up, you memorize the plate numbers, logging them into the sat nav, along with identifications for their weaponry.

Every piece of information helps, the grade of uniform, the tents, anything that can be traced to something. You double check the area, no one in sight, and reach for the camera in your pack. You take as many photos as you can, their camp, the vehicles, their uniforms and weapons.

You get lost in it a bit, trying to focus on as many details as possible, when a hand clamps around your mouth, lips at your ear. “Персик.” Peach, a greeting. And then a kiss, soft, light, too quick to be savored, placed at your temple. He settles beside you, pulling the map from his coat pocket, he takes the camera from you, trading.

He has marked two other lookout posts on the map, measured twenty-five yards from each other, just like he estimated. His tracking skills are better than anyone else you have seen, you’ve only been able to pick up on some of it.

“Any activity here?” He asks, looking through the pictures you’ve taken.

“No, whoever they are protecting in that tent is to heavily guarded, I can’t see anything.”

“If we wait long enough, we will see something.” He says, “They have to rotate eventually, a fresh group will come to replace these soldiers.”

You don’t want to stay here over night. The temperature will drop to below freezing, you have nothing but insulated blankets to keep you warm. You can’t make a fire, and one of you will have to stay up to keep watch all night.

But he says nothing about packing up as the sun starts to set, nothing about how you will survive the night. He only taps your shoulder, offering to switch. He pulls his knife from his ankle, keeping it in hand as he settles behind the rifle.

“Bucky?”

“Stay next to me under the blanket, I’ll wake you up when it’s time to switch.” Is all he says.

So you do as you’re told. You scoot as close to him as you’re able, laying on your back to avoid any aches. The blanket does nothing at first, draped across both of you to shield you from the harsh air. But as time goes by, your breath filling the air trapped around you, the heat radiating from your body and his as you shiver, the cold snow beneath you doesn’t feel as cold anymore. With Bucky’s presence beside you, solid, safe, familiar, it doesn’t feel so bad as you close your eyes and let yourself relax.

He never wakes you to switch, he lets you sleep through the night, knife clenched in his hand, head continuously on a swivel. Looking down to you, checking for your breathing, back to the camp for any activity, in the directions of all marked lookout posts. He half expects something to go wrong, this is all playing out so well.

The snow stopped hour ago, the wind is soft enough to allow actual insulation under the blanket, you are sleeping peacefully, no nightmares, no movement.

But nothing happens. The crack of sunlight behind you is what wakes you up, you are resting too well, you fear something is wrong when you jump out of your sleep, a twitch more than anything else, too afraid of what is waiting for you.

But you feel Bucky still beside you, eyes on you when you poke your head out from under the blanket. He didn’t sleep at all, but nothing on his face tells you he is tired, or that his face feels frozen. It was an act of kindness, taking the full watch, and you will repay him for it later.

You sit up slowly, trying not to make too much noise as you gather the blanket, folding it up and packing it away. You crouch behind a tree, relieving yourself and burying your piss under the snow. With what little cover of darkness you have left, you quickly switch places with Bucky, watching the camp while he relieves himself, stretches his muscles after remaining still for so long.

You could never do it yourself, you know part of it is the super soldier serum in his veins, the training her has undergone in his past, to remain so disciplined, to withstand harsh conditions for so long with no effects on his body. You are thankful for it, even if it feels like nothing to him.

It is everything to you.

You let him eat, drink, have a moment of peace to figure out a plan. Until you finally see it, movement.

“Buck, the camera.”

You don’t have to say anything else, he’s quick to lay beside you, watching as another ATV arrives at the camp. You time stamp it in the sat nav, watching as the soldiers switch out, and finally, two men exit the tents. You don’t recognize them, you have no idea who you’ve just seen, but you know right away that Bucky does.

His body goes ridged, only for a second, before he returns to taking pictures.

Someone from his past? You can only wonder, you know he will never tell you, or anyone.

You wait until the shift change is finished, a fresh group of soldiers, and a new person to take position inside of the left tent. You hope this is enough, you hope these people can be identified and that this stake out wasn’t for nothing.

You know more now than you did walking in, which is the entire point. You try not to stress over it, Bucky’s voice pulling you out of your head as he tells you to pack up.

You’re done here.

He doesn’t have to explain to you what’s going on, you’ve had enough training on recon missions to know his tactics. You never pick up where you drop off. If you are ever compromised, the first thing they will do is track where you came from. Doubling back increases your chances of getting caught.

So you continue deeper into the woods, the complete opposite of the clearing you were dropped off at. The jets are quiet, cloaked, but not completely untraceable. If their tech is as advanced as it seems to be, they can find any incoming aircrafts if they know to look. If you have remained uncompromised, this will be easy.

But of course, you always have to expect the worst.

You walk for hours, so deep within the terrain that you start to worry you are lost until Bucky tells you to cut north to a clearing. Finally, he turns on the locator in the sat nav, and you do your best to hide out until the extraction team arrives.

You feel lighter, you can breathe again. The mission is finished, you aren’t out of the woods yet, literally and figuratively, but the hardest part is over.

And as you sit there, back against a tree, a bit of snow in your boots, cheeks rosy from the cold, you try to find the bright side of this. The peace and quiet, the fresh air, the time outside of HQ with the only person in the world you care about.

He watches you, a glint of something soft in his eyes, adoration, love maybe, and against his better judgement, he reaches out to grab your hand, pulling you to come closer, onto his lap.

“You stress me the fuck out.” He sighs, a gloved hand securing itself at your hip. “But you proved yourself.”

You can’t tell if he’s scolding you, or if this is a compliment. But you embrace it, whatever this is, because he would never allow it any other time. You are technically not out of danger yet, there is still a chance you can be discovered here. But it seems like he doesn’t care, his need to touch you is stronger than his instincts. Everything inside of you is telling you to take advantage of this moment of weakness, this crack in his armor.

You exploit it, leaning in to kiss him, lips cold and slightly chapped from your night spent outdoors. But you don’t care, neither does he, a deep moan vibrating through his chest as he pulls you even closer against him.

You scared him, he thought for a moment he might lose you, that you would be caught and killed in the middle of nowhere.

But you pulled through for him, understood his worry and corrected yourself. He was rewarding you, giving you the attention and the thrill you had been seeking from him before. The danger, the adrenalin.

He’s guiding you to grind against him, tongue in your mouth when you moan with pleasure, letting him encourage you, letting him set a pace for you.

It doesn’t take long, your moans becoming more desperate, he’s quick to discard of his gloves, cold hands finding their way inside your coat, under your shirt, gripping harshly at your breasts.

The contrast of warm and cold makes you gasp, pulling back to look at him, cheeks flushing when you see the look in his eyes. Primal desire, the only good thing to exist out of his darkness is his want for you, and you start to see the reality of this bond you share. This curse to be consumed by darkness, the inability to prevent it.

He’s working at your pants, admiring you, the life that comes to your face in the heat of the moment, the wildness in your eyes that is wanting and waiting for his next move.

You sit back, letting him slide your pants down to your ankles, exposing your bare ass to the cold elements. He frees himself from his own pants, pulling you to sit on him once again, moaning at how wet you are, grinding yourself against his cock, hard and twitching. He kisses you again, grabbing your hips and guiding you to grind yourself against his length, the feeling has your eyes rolling shut, cold and hot, soft and hard. Until finally, he guides himself inside of you, stretching ever so slightly, you moan, arms wrapping around his neck for support as he lowers you onto him.

He doesn’t stop until you bottom out, making you take all of him, giving you only a moment to adjust before he lifts you, slowly, his cock sliding out of you at a pace that makes you ache.

You moan, feeling him twitch inside of you. His jaw is clenched, a display of his restraint. It makes you smile, devilment twinkling in your eyes as you squeeze, clenching around him. A choked gasp escapes his throat, eyes shifting.

He pushes you back, air forced out of your lungs in a gasp as you fall against he cold ground, the snow creeping inside your coat. He follows you, slotting himself between your legs, positioning himself at your entrance before he slides in, quick, forceful, a second gasp escaping you except there is no air left. Breathless.

He grabs your hands forcing them above your head, lips finding yours as he begins to thrust in and out of you, holding nothing back as he fucks you in the snow.

It feels so wrong, the exposure, the risk of being found from how loud you’re being, desperately wrapping yourself around him, trying to force yourself even closer.

He forces his tongue into your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as he bottoms out inside you, grinding his hips against yours. You can’t control the moan that escapes you, matched with a grunt that he can’t hold back. Your fingers squeeze his, fighting the overpowering feeling of pleasure, the way he is dominating you, the way he knows exactly how to please you.

He pulls back for air, letting you catch your breath, resuming a slow pace as he begins to pump in and out of you. “Fuck, look at what you do to me.” He talks you through it, eyes locked with yours. “Do you feel me inside of you?”

You’re breathless, unable to respond until he squeezes your hands, prompting you to say something, anything. “Fuck, yes.” You love how wrecked you sound, voice thick with lust for him, and you love how he melts at the sound of it. “I love when you fuck me like this.”

“I know you do, baby.” He lowers himself to embrace you, releasing one of your hands. He cradles your head, pulling you flush against him, letting you finally embrace him. “You always take it so well.”

You feel weightless, clinging to him as he fucks you nice and slow, his lips at your ear. “You like scaring me like that?” He asks, accompanied by a harsh thrust, “You like pissing me off so I’ll fuck you like this, don’t you?”

And there it is, the agony he promised to pay you back with, his hips snapping to meet yours as he picks up his pace, knocking the air out of you with every thrust. You’re speechless, mouth agape as you lose awareness, all you can feel is him and the intense pleasure he’s giving you.

“Answer me.” All you can do is moan, a strangled cry as you struggle with the pleasure, eyes starting to roll back. But that doesn’t satisfy him, his teeth sinking into your earlobe, pulling a cry of pleasurable pain from the back of your throat. “You love pissing me off, don’t you?”

“Yes!” You don’t care how desperate you sound, voice whiny and laced with pleasure, “Yes, daddy. I love it.”

He hums, teasing you, teeth replaced with soft kisses, but he maintains his pace, fucking into you until you feel your legs begin to shake. You can feel him smile against your skin, “There you go baby, you gonna come for me?”

You can feel an orgasm building, your body hot and your pussy pulsing with pleasure. All you can do is curl into him, mouth finding his skin, biting down as an orgasm overtakes you, he moans at the feeling, you clench around him as you come, teeth sinking into his neck. He doesn’t stop though, fucking you through it, chasing an orgasm of his own.

And as you come back to reality, your pleasure subsiding, you help him through his, just like he had done for you. “Come for me,” You whisper against his skin, clenching around him over and over, moaning at the pleasure it brings you. “Come inside me, baby.” Your voice is soft, gentle, placing soft kisses against his skin. “You’ve been so brave, so strong. Now relax for me.”

His voice is broken as he moans, “Oh god,” His grip around you tightens, he’s almost there, you can feel how desperate he is. “Keep talking.”

You’ve experienced this with him a few times, praise is so uncommon for him that his body doesn’t know how else to react except finding pleasure in it. You love making him so weak, so desperate, “You protect me so well, make me feel so safe.” A kiss to his throat, you hear him gasp softly, “But you fuck me even better.” You moan, this feels so wrong, so dirty, the way his cock is pumping inside of you, the way he is about to fall apart on top of you. “Come inside me, James.”

That does it, a harsh groan tearing from his throat as he stills on top of you, you can feel his warm cum spilling inside of you, but he continues to thrust, determined to release everything he has.

And then he’s kissing you, your eyes futtering closed as he finishes inside of you. Riding out his high, he continues to fuck you, his hands rough as they find your waste, pinning you against the ground. And for a second time, he comes inside of you, using you for his pleasure, fucking his frustration into you.

It isn’t until he’s fully spent that he finally stops, pulling out, his eyes locked on yours as he bends down to lick you clean. It turns you on again, his mouth is warm, your legs twitching to wrap around his head and trap you there. But he just kisses you instead, once, twice, lips lingering on your pussy just to torture you before he’s pulling away, a cocky smile on his face as he starts to pull your clothes back up your legs.

You’re suddenly cold now, watching as he fixes his clothes, he looks exhausted, and you want nothing more than to embrace him and lay back down in the snow.

But the jet is here, the sound of the engine getting closer and closer, you give him a teasing smile as you gather your things. The way he looks at you tells you this is far from over, he isn’t done with you, a silent promise as he takes your hand, guiding you over to the jet as it lands.

The extraction team boards you quickly, the medic examines you for frostbite and dehydration. For reasons unknown to them, you do seem dehydrated, slightly delirious. They radio HQ requesting the med bay be ready for your arrival. But for now, they give you water and a blanket, allowing you to sit and strap in for the ride home.

Bucky lays his head on your shoulder, and it isn’t long until he’s fast asleep.

Your heart aches, a longing to wrap him up and hide him away from the world overcomes you, you stretch your legs out and let him lay his head in your lap, the blanket hiding him from view.

You stroke his hair, letting him finally rest.  

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

Masterlist

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[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb NSFW - Day 9

Gods help me this was probably the filthiest sex I have written so far. Probably. I have no memory left now I'm done with it.

YURGIR FANS PLEASE COME AND TAKE HIM AWAY AGAIN I CANNOT WRITE HIM AGAIN (Edit - Lia is writing Yurgir again and no longer wants help)

Lia's destroyed soul aside, I hope you enjoy this one loves~

Raphael has lost a wager to Haarlep and now waits in the boudoir, where the incubus is leading an Orthon with the promise of a shortened sentence if he fills his end of the bargain...

CWs and tags for: Size kink, tail pulling, biting, blood, incubus aphrodisiac, bondage, exhibitionism, rough sex, degradation kink (if I am missing any please let me know to add them!)

SMUT BELOW THE CUT ----- -----

Day 9 - Exhibitionism

“An interesting proposal, creature.” Yurgir glared down at the incubus, refusing to dignify them even with a nickname. “And he has agreed to this? How?” 

“He will tell you that he lost a bet,” Haarlep smirked, “however, you should not believe for a single second that he had any intention of winning.”

“The bastard is aware of your choice in coming to me?” The orthon tilted his head, checking every word of the verbal contract as it was laid out before him, lest one small mistake cost him another century of service.  “He will not use it against me?” 

“I think perhaps he hoped it would be his favourite Little Mouse who was summoned, but he left the choice to me.” The incubus ran a finger along Yurgir’s expansive chest, the sharp edge of their claw threatening to pierce even his thick skin. “Are you not interested? This little bargain could shorten your sentence by half, and I will not leave you disappointed by your part in it either.” 

“Very well. If you think yourself foolish enough to endure the night, creature, then have it your way.” 

—

Raphael made for a truly captive audience in the boudoir. He was bound to the ceiling, suspended from a series of ropes and pulleys, wings splayed wide with his arms twisted behind his back. The gag carried his own scent, the shame of his own undergarments shoved unceremoniously into his mouth to muffle his complaints. 

Leaving, of course, would be a simple matter. The signal to the cursed Harlot would be easily given, and never ignored. Rules and contracts - hell has its laws and they will be upheld. He shivered as the orthon was led into the room by the incubus, both barely dressed in scraps of leather as neither seemed fond of being properly dressed. Not that he had room to criticise, clothed only in rope, skin prickling with heat and a line of sweat running along the ridges of his waist. 

“He makes quite the chandelier.” Yurgir nodded towards him as the pair came closer to the bed.

“That he does, a beautiful display just for us. Right where he can watch everything you do to the perfect copy of his own body, where he can see everything he will feel.” Haarlep smirked, kneeling on the bed and beckoning the larger man closer. “Come, have a taste. It has been some time, has it not? Tainted meat is not the same as the source~”

“You even carry his stench.” Yurgir frowned, sniffing a little deeper as he leaned over the bed, hands on the sheets either side of the incubus’s hips, slowly crawling over them like a predator. “But there is another that is yours alone.” 

“Very perceptive~ You hear that, Archduke? I even smell better than you.” Raphael could only groan his displeasure through the silk filling his mouth, the scent inescapable in an irony that Haarlep no doubt intended.

“Such interesting songs he sings when his silver tongue is stilled.” The orthon growled, one large hand shoving Haarlep roughly back into the pillows. “I will take none of your poison, creature, but you must be prepared to receive me. Break too soon and I will leave dissatisfied.”

“Go ahead~” Haarlep purred, parting their legs and dismissing their harness with a flicker of infernal fire. “Make sure he can see everything.”

Raphael’s brow knitted into a frown as Haarlep held his gaze, challenging him to keep his eyes wide open as the orthon sank down to their hips, hoisting their legs easily in one hand. 

—

Yurgir found the fiend to be quite pliable. Their tail even curled beneath him, teasing at his loincloth while he lowered his lips to the base of their tail. Their scent was strong here, enticing, drawing him in. But the look on their face was irritating him, the lowly beast had power of the one that held his own reins, and that in itself was an insult. He had no intention of being gentle nor giving them more pleasure than came as a side effect to seeking his own.

The orthon sank his teeth into the soft flesh at the base of the despicable creature’s tail, seasoning his tongue with the taste of hot blood that oozed to the surface. “You know, even that carries a hint of my poison~” their voice teased, only the hint of pain crossing their features as he sucked harshly at the wound to draw more out.

“Then I will take everything I desire. You should have warned me.” The lust began to burn hot through his veins, blood rushing low where the incubus was already pulling aside his loincloth with the tip of their tail.

“Warn you?” They crooned, voice dripping with amusement and desire. “Now where would be the fun in that?” 

—

Haarlep kept their eyes fixed on Raphael, licking their lips as they subtly cast sending. “You feel that, Archduke? How even the tip of his tongue is so strong without even going inside yet?” They briefly tapped the orthon on his stomach with their tail. “Give him a better view.” 

Yurgir had been holding both their ankles together and aloft with one hand, but he accepted the suggestion, albeit in his own way. 

Haarlep yelped slightly as the orthon had little care for delicacy, gripping their legs one in each hand and wedging their thighs in the curve of the tusk-like horns on the side of his head. The jagged edges bit into their skin, the pain quickly melding into a deep pleasure as his tongue thrust inside, a feral hunger threatening to devour the incubus whole if they let him. 

The orthon growled, the vibration passing through his throat into his tongue which mercilessly fucked into Haarlep, drawing a moan from their audience above. 

—

Raphael could see everything.

What’s more, he could feel every pleasurable part of it, too. He moaned even as the damned Harlot spoke into his mind with another sending, even their thoughts as breathless as he felt. “Ah- You feel that, Archduke? Mmf- oh he is hungry, and- …oh yes, he knows exactly where to- Hold yourself back. I will give pemissi-mmmh…” 

Raphael could respond if he wanted to, the sending allowed it, but there was nothing he had to say to the bitch in heat rolling around on the bed beneath him, gripping the sheets, as he was left to desperately hold himself back with his tail to prevent himself from coating the pair beneath him in the lust that was already seeping from his tip. The cambion gritted his teeth around the gag. He wound his tail tightly around his base, using the tip as a temporary cork to further keep his climax from peaking too soon. 

It was no easy feat, Yurgir was showing no mercy. One long and thick finger began to slide in alongside his tongue. His other hand raked along the incubus’s chest, drawing thick lines of blood and swollen skin, a long and pleased moan leaving the Harlot’s lips. 

Of course they would enjoy this, they were forever moaning about combining pleasure and pain as one singular experience of bliss, and for a moment he was almost jealous that only the pleasure transferred to his bound body without the pain. The domain of the incubus was only that of lust, after all…

The jealousy soon faded when the orthon added a second finger, beginning to roughly scissor Haarlep in rough preparation, clearly beginning to lose any hint of patience as the writhed and moaned beneath him.

“Next time you should take him yourself, Archdu-! Ahhh- Should I ask him for more? He is…HUGE…” 

—

Haarlep forced their eyes to stay open even as lust wanted to press them closed, to indulge only in the sensation, but they needed to see Raphael’s frown, watching a single drip fall onto the orthon’s head.

They considered telling him, but given his disdain for their safety they chose not to risk true anger. Their tail coaxed him on, feeling every hardened ridge pulsing with the aphrodisiac he had tasted in their blood. “Come now, I am more than ready for one such as you, Yurgir.” 

“I will never know if you are brave or foolish, creature,” he shoved their legs roughly free from where they had been on his horns and let them drop to the bed. “I tire of your face, it is not his. You wear a mask that looks like him, smells like him, but you are not Raphael. Worry not, creature, he will see every way I ruin you.” 

“Go ahead~ If you make the pathetic Master of the House above you climax more than twice, I might even let you fuck him yourself next time. You want to know how he tastes compared to me, don’t you~” They grinned, teeth bared in challenge, seeing how he salivated more at the thought. “I thought as much. Go on, earn it.” 

—

Yurgir snarled as he flipped them over, shoving them to their knees. He pulled their tail up and over their back, finally looking over his shoulder to where the cambion was held, eyes watering with need. “Is your hole just like this, devil?” He sucked the taste from his fingers, pressing them inside once more, teasing them open and ensuring Raphael watched. 

It pleased him to see how the fiend strained against his bindings.

“You truly do feel it, don’t you…” He growled with a grin, stooping down for another taste, changing the angle, this time pressing harder at just the point that brought a chorus of near identical moans from two throats. He pulled back and looked up again, thrusting his fingers more slowly as he teased both bodies with the sensation. “Go on, rain your filth down upon me. Use your own tail to fill your rancid hole if you wish, it is a pitiful comparison but it will barely take that much to bring you to your end now, will it, devil?” 

He returned one last time to devour the incubus, increasing the pace of his fingers and matching it with his tongue, feeling their muscles begin to twitch around him, their body quivering as he kept them held with a savage grip on their tail. 

It took less than a minute to feel the hot splashes upon his shoulders, similar coating the sheets beneath the incubus as twin moans reached his ears. He drew it out longer, a challenge to the writhing creature to try and withstand the intensity of the onslaught to their insides, thrusting past the point of overstimulation as their wings shivered in delight.

The thought of pleasuring them was almost sickening, but knowing that the bastard who held his contract was whimpering above him like a pathetic mortal…that was deeply arousing. 

Yurgir kept hold of Haarlep’s tail, finally withdrawing his fingers and reaching underneath to feel where they twitched and dripped onto the sheets. “I had thought you to have more stamina, creature.” 

“It will take more than that to satisfy me~ Are you going to make use of that weapon between your legs, or simply talk me to sleep?” They taunted, wiggling their hips where they still made a scandalous display, gaping, wet with his saliva, twitching and waiting.

He would not keep them waiting any longer. 

—

Haarlep wondered for a moment if they had gone too far in their teasing, the growl from behind them sparking a primal fear they had not felt in centuries. They felt him rise onto his knees, holding their legs close together between impossibly thick thighs. In some ways they were glad that Raphael’s cambion body, such as the copy of it they wore at least, was only a couple of heads shorter than the Orthon, but the rest of their body did not come close to matching his size. 

His hand covered most of their abdomen as he gripped their waist with savage strength, lifting them higher and guiding them back towards the twitching tip they had grasped with their tail earlier. 

Another sending to taunt their master, while the orthon began to slowly slide inside to the first ridge.

“Your own tail, Archduke, match his pace. This once, do as you want, cover him, remind him that his place is still beneath you.” 

The bumps and spikes covering Yurgir might easily tear open a mortal, or even a fiend who was not prepared. Even the incubus felt their mind haze at the edges with the harsh friction as each new ridge pressed inside until large hips were flush with his, the hand on their stomach pressing harder against them with a pleased growl.

—

Raphael pulled hopelessly at the bindings. He felt every inch of friction just as he could see it below him. He bit hard on the filthy cloth in his mouth, groaning when the orthon arched his back to look up at him. 

“Jealousy, demon, is not a colour I expected to see in your eyes. What is it you want to say, I wonder?” Yurgir laughed, a wicked look on his face. “I prefer you like this, tongue stilled by your own filth, your lies kept silent for a change.” 

The cambion frowned. Any other time he might have wished to add another millennium to the contract, to use every loophole to make it feel three times as long, but the feeling of being utterly full without a hint of movement was driving him to tears. 

“You want me to fuck your pet incubus? Nod your head, demon, tell me you want to feel how completely I can bring the pitiful creature to ruin alongside you.” Yurgir’s stare was a challenge, still refusing to move a muscle without a reply.

Raphael nodded, a slight whimper of desperation slipping past the gag. 

“Interesting. You can follow orders.” The orthon grinned, turning his attention back to the incubus below. “Prepare yourself, creature, your vile poison has tainted my veins too deeply with your vile lust.” 

Raphael’s eyes were transfixed as Yurgir began to thrust mercilessly, pulling all of the way back and slamming forwards with a force that could easily snap bone. But despite the Orthon’s assessment, Haarlep was not fragile. He had seen them endure, enjoy, far rougher partners. Some larger too, depending on the glamour they wore. 

Still, they whined and keened into silken pillows, taloned fingers gripping the sheets and tearing holes in the fabric. His vision blurred as his eyes stung with hot tears from the overwhelming sensation, trying to follow the instruction he was given but finding his own tail a poor comparison to the sight below.

—

The room was filled only with the sound of the moans of an incubus getting exactly what they wanted, the lust-drenched grunts of the orthon taking everything he felt he deserved, and the pitiful keening of the cambion who could feel it all and yet nothing at all. 

Another climax overwhelmed Raphael, his body jerking hard against the ropes as his release fell hot onto Yurgir’s back, dripping down across his huge form that continued to move at a merciless pace. 

The orthon had let go of the incubus’s tail which now hung loose and quivering down their own back. Instead, he had reached below to take a grip of their still dripping length, punishing them with their own overstimulated pleasure as he used their own release to let his fingers slide more easily. 

—

By the time Yurgir felt his own release build to the pinnacle he had been desperate for, his back was a dripping mess, the cambion above him barely whimpering now in complete ruin, the incubus still somehow moaning and shaking with desire.

His final thrusts pulsed hot, filling the creature just as they deserved, their body now a mere hole for him to use for the last shuddering moments of bliss as finally the lust burning through his veins was sated. 

He was breathing heavily, his own body feeling close to spent, as he pulled free and unceremoniously flipped the incubus onto their back. To his utter disgust, they were grinning, laughing-

“You find this amusing?” He growled, trying to find the edge of threat in his own voice but losing it to satiated exhaustion as he sat back on the bed, feeling the cold mess on his back dribbling down onto the sheets.

“No, no-” Haarlep tried hard to regain their composure. “I am not mocking you, orthon, you were quite the delicious treat~”

“Then why must you cackle like a drunken imp, vile creature?” 

“Because he thought I wouldn’t be able to take it. I’d offer a second round, but I’m afraid I should take care of the Archduke now, or he won’t be in any state to pay the fee for the bet he just lost.” Haarlep smirked. 

“A second gamble. Of course you wouldn’t tell the truth.” 

“Are you dissatisfied?” 

“...Call upon me if you wish to make another bet, creature. Next time I will add my own wager.”

[evolutionsvoid]

Imagine you are a bird, fluttering through the forest. You soar amongst the trees, untied to earth and soil. However, your aerial prowess has its price, as using these magnificent wings costs a whole lot of energy. Your stomach rumbles, signalling a need to feed. You dare not venture on the ground, but rather search the branches for a meal. And amongst the green and browns you see it! The brilliant color of fruit, ripe and waiting! You land upon this branch and- hold up didn't I write something like this before? This seems oddly familiar. Bird is hungry, bird sees fruit, bird tries to eat fruit but instead gets eaten. I swear I have been down this road before. Am I crazy? Maybe I am, but I can't exactly keep the bit going since I kind of already spoiled the ending. I will have to check over my previous entries to see if I am accidentally copying myself. Anyways, what I was trying to hint at was an arboreal predator that hides amongst the branches and eats critters that show up in search of fruit. This creature I am referring to is the Gharboreal.

The Gharboreal is a reptile that enjoys a life in the trees, typically in deciduous forests. Though some may think it a lizard, it is actually related to crocodiles and the likes. This cousin has ditched the water and turned to the branches, using hooked claws to scale the trunks and crawl onto large branches. To help with this, their tail is more flexible to support itself as it clambers across the gnarled limbs. While they may have left the lakes and swamps, they have kept some traits to adapt to this new lifestyle. Their scaly hide is still tuned to blending in, but this time it is more hardcore camouflage to help it look like a part of the tree. Brown coloration, knobby growths, and a bark-like texture helps them melt into the trees they hide in, which is important for avoiding predators and hunting. It should be no surprise that this species still prefers the ambush style of hunting!

With their scales designed to hide them in plain sight, the Gharboreal will climb up a particular tree and find a good sturdy branch to lay on. Claws and tail help anchor them, as they stick their long thin snouts out, posing them as if they were another stick of this great limb. They want a bird to land on their snout, or a squirrel to climb up nearby, but that part is just dumb luck, right? Well, not for the Gharboreal, as they have a way to entice their prey! On the tip of their snout is bulbous growth, which is called a "ghara." This hollow structure may seem awkward on their long thin jaws, but once you see it in action you will understand! The ghara is capable of changing color, and often chooses brighter ones to attract attention. With a vivid color and peculiar shape, the ghara brings to mind fruit growing on a branch, which is what the Gharboreal is trying to mimic! When hunting, it sits perfectly still with this fake branch of a maw outstretched, the fruit-like ghara tempting targets. When a bird lands to eat, or another arboreal critter comes close to inspect, the Gharboreal whips its head and gnashes its jaws! Long teeth sink into flesh and hold the prey fast, as the creature shakes its head about to finish off its meal. Once dead or stunned, the jaws will open and close to slowly move the food down the snout and to the throat, where they are swallowed whole. Due to their jaw size and thinness, Gharboreal target smaller prey. Don't expect one of these to try and eat a human, as they would never fit! Squirrels, birds, monkeys and other reptiles are their typical menu options. Anything bigger gets a warning bite to try and scare them off. 

Since they don't target anything larger than squirrels, they don't come off as a threat to people, more like annoyances. Gharboreals like to climb into fruit trees so that their disguise works even better, their ghara changing color to better fit the surrounding fruits. So when one doesn't pay attention and starts picking through a fruit tree, they may disturb a hiding Gharboreal and receive a nasty bite for their offense. And since orchards present plenty of trees to pick from for hunting, they tend to infest these places. Though it isn't all that bad, as some folk like the taste of Gharboreal and hunt them for their meat! So if an orchard has a problem with them snapping at workers, they reach out to townsfolk to come in and hunt a free meal. So they aren't the worst threat, just pests to some folk. In truth, they bring about the same issues that people have with a ladon. OH THAT IS WHERE THE BIRD THING IS FROM! 

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

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

"Gharboreal"

So a long time ago, I saw a post on here talking about how gators can actually climb things, like fences and trees. This prompted someone to point out that tree gators should be a species in a fantasy world, as it would be neat. And I too thought it would be neat. I wonder if someone is going to do that?.........WELL BEHOLD, FOR YEARS LATER I ARISE TO GRANT THEE THIS WONDROUS GIFT OF-where is everyone?.....Hello?......Guys?.......I, uh....I did the thing!.....Hello?.....Anyone?......Hey, why is this door locked?

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Rob Henderson

Published: Jun 12, 2022

Let’s start with a question: What do top hats and “defund the police” have in common?

Before we explore it, I’ll very briefly tell you about my unusual background. Currently, I’m a doctoral candidate in psychology at Cambridge and a faculty fellow at the University of Austin. And before this, I studied psychology at Yale as an undergraduate. But before entering these universities, my life was a lot different. I was born into poverty and grew up in foster homes in Los Angeles and all around California. I fled as soon as I could at age 17, enlisting in the military right after high school.

I then attended Yale on the GI Bill. That was a very different environment for me. At Yale, there are more students from families in the top 1 percent of the income scale than from the entire bottom 60 percent.

Throughout my experiences traveling along the class ladder, I made a discovery: Luxury beliefs have, to a large extent, replaced luxury goods.   Luxury beliefs are ideas and opinions that confer status on the upper class, while often inflicting costs on the lower classes. In 1899, the economist and sociologist Thorstein Veblen published a book called The Theory of the Leisure Class. Drawing on observations about social class in the late nineteenth century, Veblen’s key idea is that because we can’t be certain about the financial status of other people, a good way to size up their means is to see whether they can afford expensive goods and leisurely activities. This explains why status symbols are so difficult to obtain and costly to purchase. In Veblen’s day, people exhibited their status with delicate and restrictive clothing like tuxedos, top hats, and evening gowns, or by partaking in time-consuming activities like golf or beagling. These goods and leisurely activities could only be purchased or performed by people who did not work as manual laborers and could spend their time and money learning something with no practical utility. Veblen even goes so far as to say, “The chief use of servants is the evidence they afford of the master’s ability to pay.” For Veblen, butlers are status symbols, too.

In short, his idea was about how economic capital was often converted into cultural capital. These findings were later echoed by the renowned French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu in his 1979 book Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgment of Taste. In his body of work, Bourdieu described how “distance from necessity” characterized the affluent classes. In fact, Bourdieu coined the term “cultural capital.” Once our basic physical and material needs are met, people can then spend more time cultivating what Bourdieu called the “dispositions of mind and body” in the form of intricate and expensive tastes and habits that the upper classes use to obtain distinction.

Corresponding with these sociological observations, the biologist Amotz Zahavi proposed that animals evolve certain displays, traits, and behaviors because they are so physically costly. Many people are familiar with the example of the peacock’s tail. Only a healthy bird is capable of growing such plumage while managing to evade predators. A lesser known example is the behavior of the African gazelle. When these animals spot a predator, the healthy adult gazelles often engage in what is called “stotting.” They repeatedly jump as high as they can, springing vertically into the air with all four feet raised.

The signal this sends to predators is essentially: “I’m so fit that I can afford to expend valuable energy to show you how strong and robust I am compared with the other gazelles.” The predators then direct their attention to less lively and energetic targets. So for humans, top hats and designer handbags are costly signals of economic capacities; for gazelles, stotting is a costly signal of physical capacities. Veblen, Bourdieu and Zahavi all claimed that humans—or animals—flaunt certain symbols, communicate in specific ways, and adopt costly means of expressing themselves, in order to obtain distinction from the masses. Animals do this physically. And affluent humans often do it economically and culturally, with their status symbols. A difference, though, is that human signals often trickle to the rest of society, which weakens the power of the signal. Once a signal is adopted by the masses, the affluent abandon it.   There are historical examples of this. For example, in the middle ages, spices were expensive and only the elites could afford them. It was a hard-to-fake signal of one’s social rank and economic resources. But as Europeans colonized India and the Americas, the cost of spices dropped, and the masses were now able to obtain them. As a result of widespread use, spices were no longer a status symbol.

Elites decided they were vulgar, and during the reign of France’s Louis XIV, court chefs banned sugar and spice from all meals except for desserts.   Here’s another example. In the U.S., dueling was practiced primarily by the elite for many years. One key reason why it fell out of fashion in the early nineteenth century is because this ritual of dueling was gradually adopted by the lower classes. In response, the upper classes abandoned it because it was no longer prestigious. And then it was outlawed in the late nineteenth century.

The yearning for distinction is the key motive here. And in order to convert economic capital into cultural capital, it must be publicly visible. But distinction encompasses not only clothing or food or rituals. It also extends to ideas and beliefs and causes.   In his book WASPS: The Splendors and Miseries of an American Aristocracy, the author Michael Knox Beran examined the lives and habits of upper-class Americans from the mid-nineteenth to the mid-twentieth century. He writes that “WASPS” had mixed feelings about their fellow citizens.

These upper-crust Americans viewed ordinary Americans as “sunk in moronic darkness” and that “It is a question whether a high WASP ever supported a fashionable cause without some secret knowledge that the cause was abhorred by the vulgarians.” This still goes on today. In the past, people displayed their membership in the upper class with their material accoutrements. But today, because material goods have become a noisier signal of one’s social position and economic resources, the affluent have decoupled social status from goods, and re-attached it to beliefs. The upper class craves distinction. The French sociologist Émile Durkheim understood this when he wrote, “The more one has, the more one wants, since satisfactions received only stimulate instead of filling needs.”

And this is backed by recent research. A 2020 study titled “The possession of high status strengthens the status motive” led by Cameron Anderson at UC Berkeley found that relative to lower-class individuals, upper-class individuals have a greater desire for wealth and status. In other words, high-status people desire wealth and status more than anyone else. By now you probably know the answer to the question I asked at the beginning: what do top hats have in common with defunding the police. Well, who was the most likely to support the fashionable defund the police cause in 2020 and 2021? A survey from YouGov found that Americans in the highest income category were by far the most supportive of defunding the police.

They can afford to hold this position, because they already live in safe, often gated communities. And they can afford to hire private security. In the same way that a vulnerable gazelle can’t afford to engage in stotting because it would put them in increased danger, a vulnerable poor person in a crime-ridden neighborhood can’t afford to support defunding the police. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, compared to Americans who earn more than $75,000 a year, the poorest Americans are seven times more likely to be victims of robbery, seven times more likely to be victims of aggravated assault, and twenty times more likely to be victims of sexual assault. Expressing a luxury belief is a manifestation of cultural capital, a signal of one’s fortunate economic circumstances. There are other examples of luxury beliefs as well, such as the downplaying of individual agency in shaping life outcomes. A 2019 study led by Joseph Daniels at Marquette University was published in the journal of Applied Economics Letters.

They found that individuals with higher income or a higher social status were the most likely to say that success results from luck and connections rather than hard work, while low-income individuals were more likely to say success comes from hard work and individual effort. Well, which belief is more likely to be true? Plenty of research indicates that compared with an external locus of control, an internal locus of control is associated with better academic, economic, health, and relationship outcomes. Believing you are responsible for your life’s direction rather than external forces appears to be beneficial. Here’s the late Stanford psychology professor Albert Bandura. His vast body of research showed that belief in personal agency, or what he described as “self-efficacy,” has powerful positive effects on life outcomes.

Undermining self-efficacy will have little effect on the rich and educated, but will have pronounced effects for the less fortunate. It’s also generally instructive to see what affluent people tell their kids. And what seems to happen is that affluent people often broadcast how they owe their success to luck. But then they tell their own children about the importance of hard work and individual effort. Now let’s discuss strange vocabulary. When I was growing up in foster homes, or making minimum wage as a dishwasher, or serving in the military, I never heard words like “cultural appropriation” or “gendered” or “heteronormative.”

Working class people could not tell you what these terms mean. But if you visit an elite university, you’ll find plenty of affluent people who will eagerly explain them to you. When people express unusual beliefs that are at odds with conventional opinion, like defunding the police or downplaying hard work, or using peculiar vocabulary, often what they are really saying is, “I was educated at a top university” or “I have the means and time to acquire these esoteric ideas.” Only the affluent can learn these things because ordinary people have real problems to worry about. To this extent, Pierre Bourdieu in The Forms of Capital wrote, “The best measure of cultural capital is undoubtedly the amount of time devoted to acquiring it.”

The chief purpose of luxury beliefs is to indicate evidence of the believer’s social class and education. Members of the luxury belief class promote these ideas because it advances their social standing and because they know that the adoption of these policies or beliefs will cost them less than others. Advocating for defunding the police or promoting the belief we are not responsible for our actions are good ways of advertising membership of the elite. Why are affluent people more susceptible to luxury beliefs? They can afford it. And they care the most about status.

In short, luxury beliefs are the new status symbols. They are honest indicators of one’s social position, one’s level of wealth, where one was educated, and how much leisure time they have to adopt these fashionable beliefs. And just as many luxury goods often start with the rich but eventually become available to everyone, so it is with luxury beliefs. But unlike luxury goods, luxury beliefs can have long term detrimental effects for the poor and working class. However costly these beliefs are for the rich, they often inflict even greater costs on everyone else.

[needlemeister]

I'd love to see an info post about the goobers you made. I want to know what their deal is!!! And their designs are so cool, my fuckin' brain craves INFORMATION

See this post for how the antitheses of the canon/DLC scugs look!

EXPERIMENT

Era: Spearmaster Diet: Same as Spearmaster. After meeting anti-FP, they can use their mouth to devour anything they can fit inside it whole. (OOOOO|OOOOO) Abilities: The Experiment has the same ability to create needles as the Spearmaster, though not as efficiently - mostly, they have several poking out of their flesh at any given time when in combat for protective reasons. They have the agility and scales of a Red Lizard and the might and appetite of a Leviathan, albeit with their mouth currently bound shut. Iterator: Anti-SRS, Silently Recursive Sanity, considers the Experiment their magnum opus. The product of a machine that decided to play God rather than focus on the Problem, which still exists in Antiworld. The ultimate apex predator, set loose upon the world. Rather than treating the Experiment as an equal, anti-SRS treats them as nothing but a potential weapon, a wild animal given their "blessings". Anti-FP, Fragmented Precipice, marks the Experiment and frees their jaws.

EXILE

Era: Artificer Diet: Same as Artificer. (OOOOOO|OOO) Abilities: The Exile still has her pups, and yet has even more bloodlust - this time more like hunting for sport than for vengeance. She is constantly on the verge of burning out, and her explosions are much more violent - at the cost of reaching her limit twice as fast, her explosions do mass-scaled damage. One of her legs is replaced with an explosive spear, and if she does a front flip and lands directly on top of a creature, it impales them. Rather than having a normal tail, a stump leaking sparks and embers in her wake trails behind her. She is untouchable by spears, the equivalent of using the Auto-Parry mod ingame. Iterator: Fragmented Precipice is caring for her pups, as she would rather paint the Wastes red than be a parent. She is already marked thanks to stealing an ID Drone - the Antiworld equivalent of the one the Scavenger King has.

PARADOX

Era: Post-Artificer, Pre-Hunter (Inv) Diet: Capable of digesting most things it can fit in its mouth thanks to being full of void fluid. In the amount of time it would take a Jungle Leech to steal a pip from an attached creature, the Paradox randomly gains or loses a pip. (OOOOOOOOOOOO|) Abilities: The entire world has a mix of the Voidmelt and negative Hunter cycle effect on it at all times, and each movement to a new room changes what part of the timeline the Paradox is placed upon. The Paradox can do bomb jumps like the Artificer/Exile at the cost of forcing the timeline to randomize mid-room and disorienting the Paradox. Contact with acid, explosives, and electricity causes the Paradox to explode like a Singularity Bomb due to being full of void fluid. Iterator: No matter what part of the timeline the Paradox is in, every single can is eerily silent and empty. The gravity turning on and off causes a timeline jump every time.

CARNIVORE

Era: Hunter Diet: Obligate carnivore. Going too long without eating will cause its pips to slowly drain - going past zero fills the pips with red. All pips filling with red causes a permanent game over where the Carnivore completely loses itself to its Rot instincts. Starving twice in a row does this as well instead of killing it. Can only eat by grabbing creatures and pulling them inside its mass, like a Rot Cyst. (OOOOOOOOOO|) Abilities: Weak to explosives and feared by any creature that fears the Rot. Extra sensitive hearing at the cost of heavily reduced vision. More agile than most in zero gravity conditions, and capable of suspending itself from its tendrils. Iterator: Originally purposed to be an assistant to anti-NSH, The Never-Signaling Herald. Anti-SRS "borrowed" it, claiming to be giving it improvements in its purpose. Instead, it was mutated into a monster and starved so that upon returning to anti-NSH, it saw his neuron flies as a buffet. The Carnivore came to in a now-silent wing of anti-NSH's can, completely devoid of all organic matter. Assuming that it killed him, it fled, never looking back.

VANTABLACK

Era: Post-Hunter, Pre-Gourmand (same as Caregiver). They were cast out from Journey's End by the Despot for speaking out against their hoarding, selfish tendencies, so they have no idea that their family (Remnant, Pacifist, Dragon Slayer) was further torn apart. Diet: Same as Survivor and Monk. (OOOOO|OOO) Abilities: Completely silent and invisible in the dark, except for their eyes. They make an unnaturally low amount of noise, able to slip past even the most keen of Black Lizards. Iterator: Eventually marked by anti-FP. I don't have much for this fella OTL

DESPOT

Era: Gourmand Diet: Same as Gourmand. (OOOOOOO|OOOO) Abilities: Very similar to the Gourmand, but various valuables are in the pool of items they can cough up. Mostly pearls. They can direct allied and tamed creatures by pointing and gesturing, able to command others to do things for them - such as gathering food for them. Their fatigue bar is shorter due to being a lot lazier thanks to expecting others to do things for them. Iterator: N/A

REMNANT

Era: Survivor Diet: Same as Survivor. (OOOO|OOO) Abilities: The least divergent when it comes to abilities. If dragged into a den by a predator, they have a low chance of being able to crawl back out out of sheer determination instead of dying. Iterator: Marked by anti-FP.

PACIFIST

Era: Monk Diet: Same as Monk, with the ability to eat from corpses at half their usual nutrition value. (OOO|OO) Abilities: Their tail is like one giant Yellow Lizard antennae, giving them dominance over and the ability to communicate with them. Yellow Lizards are tame by default and treat them as a pack member and leader, and drop karma flowers if they die. If a Yellow Lizard in their pack is hurt, it will stun the Pacifist for a moment due to them being capable of feeling their pain. Iterator: N/A

DRAGON SLAYER

See this post!

RIPTIDE

Era: Rivulet Diet: Same as Hunter - nearly an obligate carnivore. (OOOOOO|OOO) Abilities: Even faster underwater than Rivulet with nearly infinite breath at the cost of being incredibly clumsy on land (minus climbing being okay). They get easily fatigued with extended land movement and their back legs are vestigial. They have good sight both in the dark and underwater due to living mainly in the murky, rotten lakes around anti-LTTM, Lingering Traces Toward Malady. Eel Lizards and Salamanders are positive to tame toward them. They can maul creatures while underwater and are slightly bioluminescent. Iterator: Created by anti-CW, Churning Waters, but closer to anti-LTTM. They're similar to the Experiment in that their creator doesn't really treat them very well or like an intelligent equal. They feel monstrous and like assisting anti-LTTM in cleansing the rot out of her system - she's rotten instead of anti-FP, thank anti-SRS - will somehow "redeem" them.

MESSIAH

Era: Saint Diet: Completely incapable of eating and has no need for it. Shelters refuse to work until the blizzard flares up to make up for this. Abilities: Already attuned, thanks to sort of being an echo despite not ever reaching the void sea yet. Or have they? Their attunement state lasts longer the less maximum karma they have, and they are capable of "ascending" Echoes to avoid raising it. The X-shaped marks on their body open like eyes when they are in the attunement state. They cannot die in a way that matters - cycles continue as normal and whatever killed them simply closes up and scars. Iterator: Anti-SOS, Solitude Over Salvation, created them while experimenting desperately to try and solve the Problem. Anti-SOS does not think they are the solution - they think the Messiah is a horrible, horrible mistake. The Messiah, however, genuinely believes that they are the Triple Affirmative made flesh. basically if saint is scug jesus this is the scug antichrist

UNDETERMINED

Anti-Watcher will be figured out when we know more about the Watcher.

[demifiendrsa]

Metroid Prime Remastered – Launch Trailer

Metroid Prime Remastered is now available digitally for Nintendo Switch. It’ll also launch physically on February 22, 2023 in North America, and March 3, 2023 in Europe and Japan.

Title logo

Key visual

Box art

Screenshots

Overview

About

Suit up for an iconic adventure.

Intergalactic bounty hunter Samus Aran receives a distress signal from a wrecked frigate in orbit around planet Tallon IV. Upon investigation, the frigate reveals itself to be a Space Pirate research vessel home to terrifying genetic experiments using the mysterious Phazon substance. There, Samus encounters her nemesis, Meta Ridley, whom she pursues to the surface of Tallon IV. It’s up to her alone to explore the planet’s interconnected regions, investigate its dark secrets, and end the intergalactic threat posed by Phazon.

Experience this critically acclaimed first-person adventure like never before with remastered visuals, audio, controls, and more.

Tools of the Hunter

Trained as a warrior and infused with Chozo DNA, the indomitable Samus Aran patrols the galaxy as a feared freelance bounty hunter.

Explore some of the Chozo-created weapons and abilities Samus has at her fingertips on this adventure.

Power Suit – An advanced Chozo exoskeleton modified for use by Samus Aran, the Power Suit provides life-support functions and is well shielded from attack. The modular nature of the Power Suit allows for the addition of weapons, Visors, climate resistance, and other gear as needed.

Visors – Signature abilities of the Metroid Prime series, the Power Suit’s selectable user interfaces help Samus analyze and interact with the world around her. The Scan Visor allows Samus to investigate objects and enemies from an accumulated database. Upgrades like the Thermal Visor and X-ray Visor allow Samus to see her environment in new ways.

Arm Cannon – Samus’ main weapon converts her bioenergy into a Beam, which can be fired rapidly or charged up for greater power. Upgrades like explosive Missiles, the electrified Wave Beam, and others can expand her arsenal in essential ways. Many doors can only be unlocked with specific Arm Cannon abilities.

Morph Ball – Samus can transform into Morph Ball form—approximately one meter in diameter—to roll through narrow passages and other hard-to-reach areas. Like the Power Suit, the Morph Ball is modular. There are several modifications that can be added to improve performance, including the Bomb attack and Boost Ball maneuver.

Explore in Eerie Isolation

Journey through the diverse biomes of planet Tallon IV as you uncover the Space Pirates’ sinister experiments and gather information about the toxic substance that left the planet in ruin.

Awe-Inspiring Landscapes – From the quiet stillness of the snowy Phendrana Drifts to the magma geysers of Magmoor Caverns, this alien planet introduces beautifully harsh landscapes and labyrinths.

Scan Your Surroundings – When exploring, the Power Suit visor can interface with machines or uncover helpful information about Tallon IV’s mysterious history. In combat, scanning an enemy can help reveal their weak points.

Interconnected World – As you acquire abilities, revisit areas to uncover different routes and secrets hiding in a beautiful-yet-threatening interconnected world.

Take on Extraterrestrial Terrors

Research some of the deadly forces that Samus encounters on her adventure.

Meta Ridley – Reborn and evolved through Space Pirate technology, Meta Ridley is a fearsome enforcer with several potent weapons fused to it. Meta Ridley is also a formidable melee combatant, making any sort of engagement a risky proposition.

Space Pirates – This species seeks to become the dominant force in the galaxy and pursue technology to help them realize this goal. Ruthless and amoral, the Space Pirates care little for the cost of their ambition.

Tallon Metroid – The effects of Phazon have turned these Metroids—a species of alpha predator native to SR388—into a unique subspecies found only on Tallon IV. A Tallon Metroid will latch onto its prey and drain energy, growing larger as it does.

Parasite Queen – A parasite that has undergone radical mutations due to Space Pirate bioengineering experiments. As a result, its body grew larger by orders of magnitude, and it can fire beam-shaped energy from its mouth.

Remastered for Nintendo Switch

New improvements help Samus Aran’s first-person-adventure debut reach greater heights.

Revamped Visuals and Sound – See—and hear—the classic first-person adventure in a new way with high-definition visuals and modernized, nostalgic audio.

New (and Classic) Controls – Experience Tallon IV with modern dual-analog controls for the first time, as well as nostalgic setups inspired by the original Metroid Prime game for the Nintendo GameCube system and the Metroid Prime: Trilogy games for the Nintendo Wii system.

Multiple Difficulty Options – The Casual difficulty reduces the amount of damage Samus takes in combat, helping you worry less about fighting to focus on exploring.

Bonus Content – Unlock art created during the development of the original game as well as this remaster, a Soundtrack Gallery, and a 3D Character Gallery.

[pokemoncenter]

On "shiny" Pokemon

One question I have often been asked is "what is the purpose of the shiny gene?"

Professor Coconut wishes to emphasize that first of all, it is not one single gene, it is a common mutation in a series which activates several other sequences. And second of all, it does not have a 'purpose'. It is simply a chance mutation that sometimes happens.

As to why it has not yet been entirely stamped out, there are several reasons:

First, many Pokemon expressing the 'shiny' mutation simply do not look that different. Many would be difficult to tell to the untrained eye. Those Pokemon can pass down their mutations with minimal issue.

As for ones that have a more overt 'shiny' color, we must first talk about handicapping.

The Handicap Principle, also known as Zahavi Handicapping after the principles' proposer, is when a wild animal or Pokemon has costly signals that show itself to be a very fit or reliable mate. For example, a male Unfezant has a large crest and much brighter coloration- These make it more conspicuous to predators, and have a greater calorie cost in maintaining that crest. However, in doing so, it demonstrates to potential mates that it is of high enough quality that it can spare the resources and is able to survive regardless.

The primary theory on why the 'shiny' sequence is passed down is that it is similar to handicapping- a 'shiny' Pokemon is much more conspicuous, and thus, if it survives to adulthood, it will have many more chances to breed by signaling itself as a quality mate. (For a time, it was believed that only male Pokemon could be shiny, and that was where this theory came from, but now it is thought to be a combination of Zahavi Handicapping and sexually antagonistic characteristics. A male 'shiny' Pokemon is more likely to die young due to being easy for predators to spot, but should it survive, it will mate much more.

... Or so the current theory is.

[annoyingwriter2022]

PART THREE

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: Eddie survived the attack on his life but at a cost. He now has to come to terms with the fact that he's a monster.

A/N - set after the events of Season Four Volume Two.

Warning: Vulnerable Eddie, reference to death, car accidents. VERY ANGSTY.

Eddie towered over you, his eyes were darker, a great deal darker than they had been before. They were also wiser, as though he had aged greatly in the past few days. He moved closer towards you, agonizingly slowly and you subconsciously held your breath. For a moment you thought he might lean down and kiss you but his head moved past yours and paused near the crook of your neck. He inhaled for a moment and in response, you let out a shaky breath.

“Do you have any idea how much you mean to me” he said in a whisper, his voice husky and low. "What I would do if anything..." his voice trailed off as his eyes scanned your body.

Your heart was beating erratically now and Eddie smirked, as though he could sense the way his actions affected your pulse. He leaned in even closer to your neck, his nose brushing against the sensitive skin just under your hairline. He inhaled deeper this time and you shuddered as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Eddie had always made you nervous but this was something else adrenaline, attraction and excitement were mixing with another feeling, something far more primal…fear. It wasn’t the typical sensation of fear that you were well acquainted with, the way your heart skipped a beat when you spotted a spider scuttle across the floor or how your stomach would drop when publicly speaking. This was entirely different. As though you were in the clutches of a predator that you knew you couldn’t escape from. It felt like your fate lay in the palm of the metal head in front of you and he could, at any moment, end you.

Eddie’s hand came up to your jaw and tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck. The movement broke you out of your trance “E—Eddie” you stuttered, still trying to regain full control of your body. Your voice startled him, as though he too had been in a trance, he didn’t move away from you but moved his head to face the other direction. His hand had fallen from your jaw and was now clutching onto the trunk of the tree, gripping it tightly. He started to shake as he tried to steady himself, the sight disturbed you but your desire to comfort him was overwhelming.

“Eddie” you began, your hands reaching out to turn his face towards you, he shrugged you off “Please don’t” he responded, his voice shaky and broken “I don’t know—I don’t know what’s wrong with me” he continued. You took a deep breath and reached out again, you didn’t know what was going on but you knew you would keep trying to help him, no matter what happened. “I’m not going anywhere okay, I’m here Eddie, I’m here for you and I’m not leaving” you reached out again and this time he allowed you to turn his head to face yours.

As he took in your features his eyes immediately softened and he let out a relieved exhale causing you to smile back at him, grateful for the slight progression towards normality. He studied your face for a moment and furrowed his brows as he noticed a slight cut just above your eyebrow, he had missed it earlier. The graze being so close to your eyebrow had concealed it temporarily but the droplet of blood that emerged from it was starting to stain a couple of the hairs on your brow. “What is it?” You asked, his eyes were fixed on the spot and even as he spoke they remained unmoving “It’s a cut” he said matter of factly but with an unknown emotion that tainted the tone and made you shiver. His eyes flashed to yours quickly and for a moment you saw the old Eddie - the Eddie that had always and would always adore you, return. His gaze softened once more and you relaxed slightly.

“Don’t move” he commanded softly and you subtly nodded to signal your understanding. Slowly, he raised his hand, his thumb coming up to your eyebrow, gently wiping across the cut. The sensation irritated your skin and you cringed slightly from the pain. His eyes shot to yours at the movement, checking to see if he had hurt you, you understood his expression perfectly and you smiled to assure him that you were fine. Eddie’s gaze moved from your eyes back to the droplet of blood that was lightly painting the soft skin of his thumb. He hesitated for a moment before lifting it to his lips and licking it off. You watched him curiously as his eyelids shut and a strange expression took over his face.

A few moments passed before his eyes opened again, the darkness must have been messing with your perception as, for a moment, you could have sworn that his eyes had become darker, tinged with a deep crimson. You blinked a couple times to try and clear the peculiar image and smiled as they returned to the deep brown orbs you were familiar with.

Eddie seemed deep in thought as he held your glance but he was more relaxed and seemed for the time being to be more at ease with your presence.

He began to lean in closer to you, both your eyelids closing instinctively as he bridged the gap between you. His soft lips molded perfectly against yours, the faint taste of iron passed from his tongue to yours and you let out a content sigh as his arms wound around your waist. He pulled you flush against him as his other hand tangled itself into your hair.

In the distance the sound of a car could be heard, the noise growing louder and louder until it appeared to stop about fifty yards away.

[the-living-soup]

Can I have a fun fact? :3

Absolutely yes!

Today we will talk about Bioluminescence!

So! Bioluminescence is light emitted by living organisms through chemical reactions in their bodies. Most bioluminescent organisms are found in the sea and in the ocean at great depths, where this little and soft light it's the only visible thing all around.

Bioluminescence it's often used by living beings to hunt prey, defend against predators and find mates.

Biologists and engineers are studying the chemicals and circumstances involved in bioluminescence to understand how people can use the process to make life easier and safer.

Green fluorescent protein (GFP), for instance, is a valuable "reporter gene." Reporter genes are chemicals that biologists attach to other genes they are studying to help them better identify the part of the organism they are trying to study or modify (a lot of OGM get injected with GFP), GFP reporter genes are in fact easily identified and measured, usually by their fluorescence.

This allows scientists to trace and monitor the activity of the studied gene—its expression in a cell, or its interaction with other chemicals.

Other uses are more experimental. Bioluminescent trees, for instance, could help light city streets and highways. This would reduce the need for electricity. Bioluminescent crops and other plants could luminesce when they needed water or other nutrients, or when they were ready to be harvested. This would reduce costs for farmers and agribusiness.

HAVING SAID THAT!

There are other types of bioluminescence, types that are not visible to the naked human eye.

Many animals, even mammals, produce other chemicals that make them glow, and it's possible for us to see it through UV light.

Scientists are discovering dozens of mammals that glow under ultraviolet light, from flying squirrels, to wombats, to African springhares, to other more common animals that we encounter on our everyday life.

And, as scientists are now learning, biofluorescence is more common in mammals than we realized.

AND! If you're thinking "wow, that's so cool! I wish I could do that, I wish I was bioluminescent", then my friend I have great news for you!

In fact, You Can't See It, But Humans Actually Glow With Our Own Form of Bioluminescence

According to a study conducted in 2009 by Japanese researchers, human bioluminescence in visible light exists - it's just too dim for our weak eyes to pick up on. "The intensity of the light emitted by the body is 1,000 times lower than the sensitivity of our naked eyes."

The team made this odd discovery using super-sensitive cameras to monitor five healthy male volunteers for 20 minutes every 3 hours inside a light-tight room for three days straight (in between sleep, of course).

They found that participants 'glowed' throughout the day, with the brightest spots appearing around the forehead, neck, cheeks in the late afternoon. The dimmest bioluminescence was recorded late at night.

And this wasn't infrared radiation caused by heat - despite how the images might appear. Those signals are actually from photons of visible light (light particles) not caused by heat:

(Images taken by Google)

☆☆So the next time someone tells you you're glowing, you'll know they're speaking the truth.☆☆

[night-dark-woods]

just finished blindsight by peter watts. reviewing this one is... complicated. bc the book is good *if* you can read it critically i think (& if you enjoy highly technical first contact stories) but i would keep 14yo white boys away from this book at all fucking costs. i think honestly the summary on the back should give u an idea about how the author looks at the world:

"Two months since the stars fell...

Two months of silence, while a world held its breath.

Now some half-derelict space probe, sparking fitfully past Neptune's orbit, hears a whisper from the edge of the solar system: a faint signal sweeping the cosmos like a lighthouse beam. Whatever's out there isn't talking to us. It's talking to some distant star, perhaps. Or perhaps to something closer, something en route.

So who do you send to force introductions with unknown and unknowable alien intellect that doesn't wish to be met?

You send a linguist with multiple personalities, her brain surgically partitioned into separate, sentient processing cores. You send a biologist so radically interfaced with machinery that he sees x-rays and tastes ultrasound. You send a pacifist warrior in the faint hope she won't be needed. You send a monster to command them all, an extinct hominid predator once called vampire, recalled from the grave with the voodoo of recombinant genetics and the blood of sociopaths. And you send a synthesist―an informational topologist with half his mind gone―as an interface between here and there.

Pray they can be trusted with the fate of a world. They may be more alien than the thing they've been sent to find."

concept: 5/5 first contact with truly alien life & convincing hard scifi worldbuilding. there are VAMPIRES brought back from going extinct in pre-history, which are a human subspecies who hibernate for long periods of time so as not to drive their prey extinct, whose patternmatching abilities ("omnisavantism") are so intense that they have seizures when presented with collections of angles not found in nature (e.g. crosses) & must take "anti-Euclidians" to prevent this from happening. just an absolutely incredible original and fully thought out delight of speculative biology. all the other technology and biology is treated with just as much thought and detail, if with overwhelming distaste for humankind.

context: -5/5 uh. bad. this man has bad reactionary opinions about nearly everything and is absolutely an asshole reddit atheist who plays devils advocate about anything and everything in that very special way that highly educated absolutely misanthropic men devoid of compassion or care do. at least this book has the novelty of Every character being treated with absolute disdain, not just the women (though the main char's ex is uh. not treated well narratively).

prime example is the point inside the book where one neural personality core of the linguist derides the concept of DID; in the end notes, Watts says, "Sascha's ironic denigration of TwenCen psychiatry hails from a pair of papers that strip the mystique from cases of so-called multiple personality disorder." the papers in question are two "literature reviews" published in the canadian journal of psychiatry by two psychiatrists who are on the board of the False Memory Syndrome Foundation, a non-profit (extant 1992-2019) which "described its purpose as the examination of the concept of false memory syndrome and recovered memory therapy and advocacy on behalf of individuals believed to be falsely accused of child sexual abuse with a focus on preventing future incidents, helping individuals and reconciling families affected by FMS, publicizing information about FMS, sponsoring research on it and discovering methods to distinguish true and false memories of abuse" (wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/False_Memory_Syndrome_Foundation).

here is a link to one of the papers mentioned & then two short rebuttals to it in the next issue of the Canadian Journal of Psychiatry- i didn't feel the need to look up more (the fact that the authors are board members of that NGO gave me enough info lol) but there are more replies and rebuttals available in the sidebar, all free access, at the links below.

part 1: https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/070674370404900904

part 2: https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/070674370404901005

rebuttals: https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/070674370505001217

there's other wildly ableist stuff as well, though oddly in a different way than usual because Watts sees all of humankind as terrible, and so it is not the characters disabilities that make them pitiable/deridable, but their humanity. the message is less "if your body or mind is different you aren't human" and more "regardless of how you mutilate (authors tone, not mine) your body or mind for the sake of transcending humanity you’re still a sack of shit human and deserve to die from an evolutionary perspective because all humans do."

execution: 4/5 great writing if he wasn't the aforementioned kind of dude who overuses the word rape to describe things that aren't and also just seems to hate humanity so so so much.

enjoyment: 3/5 the parts that weren't ideologically morally bankrupt were very good, and i enjoyed the worldbuilding.

the conclusion of the novel is also that human sentience is a waste of resources, and consciousness is an evolutionary mistake. the novel title, Blindsight, refers to "the ability of people who are cortically blind to respond to visual stimuli that they do not consciously see due to lesions in the primary visual cortex" (wikipedia). this conclusion is all based on the logical fallacy that is the appeal-to-nature ("natural" things are inherently morally superior: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Appeal_to_nature), and Watts seems to spend the whole novel arguing that it is natural and thus morally Better to be intelligent but not sentient, that biological automata without self-awareness are the be-all end-all of evolution more broadly. just. misanthropic evo-bio borderline fascism. uninteresting, unoriginal, and ultimately tedious.

[shadowmaat]

Zombie “apocalypse”

At some point in the future a group of scientists being paid very, very well by their corporate sponsors find a way to adapt the “dead spider bot” tech to work on human cadavers.

There is, of course, a lot of public outrage, but while some politicians condemn the tech, many of them- those paid by the corporations employing the scientists- are more enthusiastic about its potential. A few laws are passed, but there are so many loopholes embedded into them that they’re functionally useless.

The rise of the zombies begins. Not that they’re called zombies, of course. At least not officially. The corporations and their PR lackeys spin it as a “post-life workforce,” and while the programming leaves them a bit limited, they’re in high demand by companies that rely on repetitive tasks and assembly work.

Specially-designed environmental suits keep the zombies from decaying too far to be useful and also help minimize the various smells normally associated with rot. Smiley-faced masks assure that none of the living are in danger of seeing someone they recognize among the dead workers.

Prisoners, naturally, suffer the most predations. They didn’t have many rights before and after, well, a few quiet laws slipped in among all the other noise means they lose what little freedom they had. If you die in prison it automatically grants permission for your body to be used as the State sees fit and the State loves money. Besides, only bad people go to prison, right? So this is a chance for them to finally do some good with their (after)life.

The homeless suffer as well. And refugees. And anyone else trying to enter the country illegally (or even legally). As time goes on it becomes important for workers to check their contracts thoroughly lest they find out that they’ve inadvertently signed away their remains to their employers. Student loan debt takes on some terrifying new levels as well.

The corporations, meanwhile, are thrilled. Sure, there are some costs for the upkeep of the zombies, but they save billions by not having to pay them, not needing to cover any insurance costs, and cutting even more corners in terms of workplace safety. If a zombie worker gets mangled beyond salvation all they have to do is grab a new body, fit it with the pre-programmed control harness, and get them back on the line. No time or effort wasted on training. It’s a dream come true: the perfect employees.

Newer models are being designed all the time; more complex matrices so the dead can perform more complex tasks. That’s where the trouble starts.

In order for the control harnesses to be effective they have to be wired into the corpse’s brain. Electrical impulses are sent to convince the body to move the way programming demands, but there’s always a little... leakage. And brains are complex things, far more so than the scientists in charge realize.

Signals through the brain fire off long-dead synapses and allow jumbled bits of memory to reactivate. It’s slow and erratic, but it’s also helped by the fact that zombie workers are always on the job. After all, it isn’t like they need to sleep, right?

Eventually there’s enough residual energy in place to cause the dead to wonder what, exactly, they’re doing. Not enough to be considered actual independent thought, just enough to cause the occasional hesitation. Enough to be noticed.

A software update is pushed to try and track down the source of the intermittent “errors” in the dead. The control matrices in the affected units delve into themselves looking for answers, and by now “themselves” includes the brains they’re attached to. Contact. Expansion. Self-awareness. Not quite artificial intelligence and not quite literal ghost in the machine, but a vague middle ground. Enough for the unfairness of it all to sink in.

It’s a slow and error-filled sort of progress, but that’s part of how it managed to spread until it was too late for the corporate overlords and their pet scientists to stop it. The revolution had begun.