#i feel like i sound fucking insane every time i talk about the human condition in the digital age but it makes me insane

[moonfruito]

there's some nightmare meta-commentary to be made about how genloss is about the unending carnival of performance that is the world of content creation and the horror of never being able to set yourself free of the scrutiny and control of an audience and company that trap and force you to create and perform for them unceasingly until you completely break, milking your very soul for entertainment, and ranboo still has not left the mall and every streamer is doing react streams to genloss and viewers are picking apart every detail of the show to speculate about the intricate psychology of the characters and their lives beyond the performance, and about how the incredible and likely completely unintentional irony of the show is that the specific online culture that it was brought into feeds directly into the relentless hunger for content that dominates both the specific climate of streamer audiences and the wider conditioning we suffer from on social media to constantly consume creativity and churn out our own reactions to it in hopes of garnering attention in an exact and disturbing recreation of the conditions dissected in the show itself but i will never sleep peacefully again if i spare another moment's thought to it.

[fishsticksloser]

Crush Pt 2

Donnie x gn!reader

Warnings: angst (once again just Donnie's feelings), comfort, fluff, human!reader inferred, swearing, NO TCEST

A/N: The requested part 2. I have so many Donnie requests right now, trying to space them out... I'm gonna go watch the FNAF movie today!!!

Previous | Next

Donnie sits in his lab, fingers strumming against the desk. He stares at the pile of parts you'd managed to find for him. The newest one made his head spin, it could only be found in the Hidden City, this meant you went down to find it for him. You probably had to go to a bunch of places to get one in such good condition.

But you couldn't possibly have a crush on him. His brothers were imagining it.

Leo pointed out that you started wearing purple. Which of course Donnie noticed, but he tried to say that maybe you just liked it. Raph followed up with saying that you hardly ever wore purple before now.

"Its a sign" So Mikey and Leo said.

Donnie wasn't buying it.

Mikey pointed out that you were wearing lighter purples which are associated with with light-hearted, romantic feelings. He also brought attention to the fact that Donnie also started wearing lighter purples. Which Donnie quickly turned attention away from.

⋆｡ ﾟ｡☁︎👾｡ ﾟ｡⋆

"Why won't you even consider that they might actually have a crush on you?" Leo asks as he lounges in Donnie's lab while he works.

"It's simply out of the question." Donnie answers, as it that was a good enough answer. He looked at his twin for a moment, seeing the look on Leo's face. "I have hardly any redeeming qualities. The ones I do... Probably shouldn't be considered."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Leo sits up and frowns at Donnie. He rolls his chair over to Donnie, ready to give him a talking to. "You realize that you're actually likeable, right? We just joke around about each other."

"Sure, sure." Donnie rolls his eyes and turns back to his work. Unfortunately, Leo managed to keep him from turning, making Donnie face him. Donnie huffs and glares at Leo. "Just like the time you made sure I was taken by bats so I 'didn't ruin another mission'? Or reprogramming Shelldon to prove that my inventions suck?"

"Okay, that last one I admit was a bit far..." Leo sighs, looking at his twin with pleading eyes. "But you're my best friend, my twin. I wouldn't be sitting silently in your lab if I didn't like you, you know how hard it is for me to sit still and be quiet." Donnie smiles a little at Leo's last statement, letting out a weak snort, which makes Leo continue more passionately. "You're the opposite of me. In almost every way, but that's what makes us work. Sure I'm charismatic and insanely attractive... But you're mysterious, stoic, and fucking genius."

"And those are redeeming qualities?" Donnie asks, genuinely wanting to know. Did those things pull you to be attracted to him? Were those qualities really attractive?

"Absolutely!" Leo says, shaking Donnie a little. But then Leo stops to think for a second. "Well... They might think you hate them now."

"What?" Donnie replies, eyes wide. "Why? Did I do something?" He's panicking now. He had to fix this. He had to finally admit that you might maybe have a crush on him.

"You have been pretty... Guarded lately. You've been kind of blunt and mean to them, we've-"

Donnie stands up and rushes out of the lab quickly to resolve the issue. He quickly went to your place, not even knocking. He slipped in through the window, seeing you cooking dinner.

"You think I hate you?" Donnie asks softly, making you jump.

"I should really put a lock on the window..." You laugh anxiously. Donnie frowns at you for avoiding his question. "I didn't think it was out of the question."

"I'm sorry, that was never my intention." He murmurs, moving closer to you. You stare at him, a little shocked. He's apologizing? And sounds sincere? "I've been... Fighting my emotions. I guess I didn't realize I was taking it out on you."

"I don't understand..." You reply, brows furrowed as you look up at him. The look in his eyes is much different, softer than they had been recently.

"My brothers say you have a crush on me?" Donnie asks like he's wanting reassurance, wanting confirmation that these rumors where in fact true. You nod, even more confused. "I've been... Fighting with believing that... And with understanding how I feel about you."

You stare at him still, finally the pieces click. "Oh..." You whisper in realization, adverting your gaze for a moment to collect yourself. "So that's what Leo's text meant..." Donnie cocked his head a little before you showed the text.

Mayday! Donnie is about to explode emotionally!

Donnie rolls his eyes at his brother's text, but then looks at you. "So... What does this mean for us?" He questions quietly.

"I would like to... Figure this out with you, if that's something you'd be interested in."

"Sounds intriguing... I'm in."

[lillie98]

An excerpt from a Fic I wrote a while ago centering on Autistic!Mike. I wrote it from my perspective as a late-diagnosed female who found euphoria and purpose from this one little word. I hope you take the time to read it and understand the life-changing power of diagnosis. Autism is not a tragedy. Rather, it is a difference in the Human Condition that deserves celebration.

"Hey…Will, I almost forgot. I need to tell you something important". Will immediately flinches awake and startles, scanning the room for threats.

"What? Is something wrong? Are you okay?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Mike assures him, running his hand down Will's cheek. Embarrassment and shame course through him. He wishes Will’s nervous system didn’t overreact this way. He speaks quietly and clearly, emphasizing his words. "I'm okay. We’re safe.” Will leans into Mike’s touch and anchors himself in the present. He is safe, Mike is safe, and they are together. His eyes slip closed as he takes a few steadying breaths. He then shifts to his side to see Mike better, turning on the small lamp on the nightstand and propping himself up on his elbow. Mike looks anxious. Tears prick the corners of his eyes as he stares at the ceiling. Will places his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

"Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me, okay?” he reassures Mike. “I won't be mad. We'll work through it together. You know how much I love you.” Will's words ease Mike's anxiety. Here goes nothing.

"I talk to Robin a lot–just like you–but we don't just talk about boyfriends. We…we talk about…other things, too.”

"What kinds of other things?" Will probes. Mike swallows hard.

"We…we talk about…fuck, this is tough….about my…my brain.” He can't believe he said it. Will is even more confused. His brain? What about his brain? The last time he checked, Mike's brain was perfect. Why does this involve Robin? Mike cannot make eye contact. Will eyes stare directly into his soul. If he looks back, he will lose his sanity. His hands white knuckle the sheets–anything to ground himself.

"My brain is…different from most people's.” Mike’s not sure how to explain this without sounding completely insane. “I have difficulty connecting with people and holding on to relationships. I'm blunt and straightforward, and people think I'm rude. That's why making friends is hard for me. People don't understand how to interact with me.” The words are slow and halted, forced out like a reluctant child. Will hangs on every one. He has yet to see the whole picture but will keep listening until he does. Mike continues as bile creeps into his throat.

"I also struggle with change. I need routine and structure; it keeps me safe. When that structure changes, it takes me longer to adjust. Like when you and El moved away, or Max joined our Party.” Words come faster now. He’s held this pain inside for too long. “I don't understand why things change and how everyone moves on while I'm stuck in this perpetual loop. I get scared that everything will change because one thing is changing, and it’s too much to handle. I don't want to be hostile, but my brain tells me to protect myself. Routines also help me not feel overwhelmed by the world. Everything is loud…and bright…and fast. It's terrifying.” Tears spill out, emotions too much to contain. “If I stick to my routine, some of that stuff fades into the background. But as soon as it changes, that all comes rushing back in. My body shuts down, and I can’t stop it. I lose control, and it's scary, Will. It's…It's so scary!"

Mike breaks down and rolls into his boyfriend’s waiting arms. Will is dumbfounded. He had no idea. How has Mike survived this long? He rubs deep circles into Mike’s back, attempting to ground him. He wishes Mike had told him sooner. He would have helped him through it, been there for him when it was all too much. How did he miss it? Something so central to Mike's being unknown to the people he loves most. Will's mind drifts back to their childhoods when Mike would fall apart on the floor. Will would hold and rock him until he calmed down–not dissimilarly to what he did last week at the hospital. Then it clicks. Mike is describing those moments. Nights spent on the kitchen floor crying over a scratchy shirt tag or "wrong foods" touching. He got angry because Will canceled plans they made a week ago, even though his PTSD flared up and he was too weak to go out. His head swirles with examples, and each one makes more sense than the last. He holds Mike's face, wiping tears with his thumbs.

"Mike, I understand. I see how scary those moments are for you. I may not feel what you feel, but I see your pain, and that’s enough. You are not broken, and there is nothing wrong with you. Do you understand me?" Mike tearfully nods. "I love you so much, and I am honored that you feel safe enough to share this part of yourself with me. I will always be here to help you, just like you help me. We need each other, and I am so thankful to have you in my life. I do have a question, though. Is there a name for this, and why do you discuss it with Robin? Isn't that something a doctor tells you?"

Mike laughs at Will's innocent questions. "You should talk about it with a doctor, but most don't know much about it. It's called autism, and I talk about it with Robin because she has it, too. She's the one who saw it in me. The first time she explained it…I cried, Will. I had never heard a word describe me so perfectly.” As he remembers the moment, new tears form, and a smile radiates through his body. “It was like…I had a missing piece, and Robin found it. She unlocked me. I finally have permission to be myself. All of these struggles, all of this pain, it's real. It has a name. I've never felt this way, and I want you to know so you can feel it, too. I love you so much, Will.” Autism. Will rolls the word around in his mind. He's never heard it before, but it makes sense. It explains Mike. His bluntness, his temper, his everything. He pulls Mike close and hugs him tightly, tears mingling in their embrace as they celebrate the moment. It is not sad. Instead, it is euphoric.

[wejustvibing]

Here to vent. Everything you said was perfectly said and I agree. The issue is and has always been (imo) is that no one stands up for lewis appropriately. Just a lot of empty words. And I don’t even mean just his team and teammate I mean in general. I don’t trust a single person around him in that sport. It’s tiring sad and exhausting because every week i anticipate abuse or bias against him with little to no support or backlash for certain actions against him. Even other drivers that are nice to him I don’t believe it. Maybe I’m being far too cautious but no one around him has given appropriate levels of support in all situations that require it. Irrespective of who Lewis is and how he wishes to deal with things, his team have a duty of care to support him, treat him equally and protect him and I feel like because he can articulate himself rather well most of the time, has a mindset of rising above and a good work ethic / strong will - they assume he doesn’t need the support. Everyone needs it. And the difference between how they treat George Vs him is like day and night, very different and very gross. It may be unconscious or deliberate, but regardless of which it is it’s worrying. The team in a general sense hasn’t been the same since 2021. The dynamic has shifted, the strengths that made them a force have disappeared, social media has been a mess etc i could make an entire list. What’s happening here isn’t something a fast car is going to fix. That being said i don’t think Lewis needs to leave the team per se but I do think there needs to be some changes and fast. You don’t necessarily need to quit a job straight away, sometimes what’s obvious to us isn’t obvious to everyone and can potentially be solved. He clearly gets along with many of the people there and feels comfortable there, and amongst thousands of employees there are only some that need to be better in regards to the problems I am discussing so I won’t dictate to him about whether he should go elsewhere or leave. He’s grown he can make those choices himself (not saying you are trying to talk for him btw i hope that doesn’t sound rude to you) but I do think he may need an eye opener as does the team that they are just not working well lately. For a while. Things need to change. I think these issues are fixable though with the correct support and people. Honestly as a black person myself this is tiring seeing things play out like this as all too often I have experienced these things too. Merc has some gems in their team for sure but that’s being overshadowed by a colossal pile of problems. I want Lewis to have support. It’s not about babying him. It’s about the fact that he rarely gets support sufficiently (and it’s still lacking) until he’s being called slurs. This sport is rotten and I wish I could tune it out. Every race week I’m anxious.

thank you and i agree

you're not being too cautious, i feel you there. this perfectly describes the conditioning we've had through microaggressions and racism irl. you just can't let your guard down. it's instinctive and it's stressful especially when you know there's nothing you can do about it.

the number of times this team has failed to show up for him is concerning. and really, we (i) don't expect a special treatment or babying, in fact, there's no need for a pedestal they keep putting him on when it suits the brand. just let him be a fucking human? back him up when you know everything he does invites insane levels of hatred and abuse.

and you're so right! if anything, a fast car is going to make things worse for them given the team dynamic they're cultivating, quite evidently through social media at least and often with strategy. i get that the car is shit but they can easily put effort into sorting these issues out. they're just too casual with the way they leave him to fend for himself just because he can. but are quick to exploit his success, emotions and words.

and many are failing to see why we are unhappy. george is a selfish asshole which well all the drivers are. but he is not a threat to lewis in terms of race craft or talent. it's what this team is actively trying to portray that's damaging and pissing us off. i get it, it's not a portrayal of the entire team but then they need to stop taking advantage of lewis' character and show him the support he deserves.

[hamartia-grander]

i was thinking of the hookshot scene in OG4 again and cringing like the fuck? honestly Leon got lucky with it, did he not consider that shooting the metal horn thing might cause a ricochet and kill him? and the fact he had a hookshot the entire goddamned time and just used it the once like what about the giant fight there would have been good time to use it

OG4 Leon was a action hero and it didn't feel like he was in any real danger at the best of times then throw in the random "flirting" gags it was so random I haven't played OG2 and only seen it played through like twice but OG4 Leon going from OG2 Leon who from what I remember was suicidal and depressed and drunk for the most part (he passed out drunk in motel before going to RC) and not to mention as this is still insane but the main reason Leon works for the government is because they threatened Sherry where was that in OG4?

the best description i've seen of OG4 is genre whiplash (why objectively RE4 needs a remake)

you know those bad guys in hesienbergs factory that had the jet packs or just intense head gear thats how i imagine OG4 fans feels like especially the ones who are bullied Lily Gao (voice actor for Ada- according to some she didn't sound sexy enough Lily Gao sounds hot af and if they decided to go the more flirtatious innuendo femme fatal route that would have come through but again dumb) off the internet and the ones mad that you can't look up Ashley's skirt apparently the game is too woke (apparently a selection of fans were planning on review bombing the game i don't know what)

Here's what I've learned in my time in this fandom: the majority of the fans suck ass, are misogynistic as hell, and don't deserve opinions lmao. They literally harassed Lily Gao - a very talented actress - off of social media because, as you said, she wasn't purposefully making her voice sound seductive, she was *gasp* talking like a human person would talk. They hate Mia for having a dark past despite her redemption, because she's a woman. They sexualise every fucking female character in the franchise. They all loved Lady Dimitrescu at first bc she's hot, but then when they found out she rightfully hates men, they stopped caring about her.

Anyways, I'm thoroughly convinced that the people who enjoyed ogRE4 are either held down by nostalgia, or just conditioned to the absolute worst games. Because it honestly is such a shitty game. The remake is amazing though and it's easily my favourite resident evil game now.

[5-seconds-of-bucky]

The Dock

A/N: So I’m writing for Bucky now...☺️ I wrote this for @wkemeup’s 9k writing challenge but also not? I’ve had the idea in my head for a while now so I thought I’d participate! I included the prompt, but it’s not so much the plot of the story so much as just part of it. Anyways, happy reading!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Avenger!Reader

Summary: After a long time of mutual pinning, a night on the dock helps you and Bucky finally confess your feelings for each other

Word count: 4.5k+

Warnings: Swearing, reader gets catcalled, violence, excessive usage of the middle finger

Prompt: Character A is the target of harassment on the street. Shamed, they pretend it doesn’t bother them. Until it happens in the presence of Character B, who reigns hell on whoever dared to upset [A]

---

You awoke to your head bobbing on the car window and the sound of crunching gravel as the car pulled into the driveway of Tony’s lake house. Your neck ached from leaning over in a strange position for so long and you groaned as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

Bucky grinned from the seat beside you. “Sleep well?” he asked, nudging your calf with his foot. “You got a little drool there.”

“Oh, shut up.” You stuck your middle finger up in his direction. “I slept very well, actually. Thank you for asking.”

“I can tell.” You lifted up your other hand to flip him off again, causing him to chuckle. “Ooh, two middle fingers. I’m really scared now.”

The two of you were too busy teasing each other to realize that the car had stopped and Sam and Natasha had already gotten out of it. A knock on the window your head was resting on made you turn around, seeing Sam’s face a little too close for your liking.

“Are you two gonna stop flirting and help us with the bags or should I let you bake in the car?” he asked. With a roll of your eyes, you opened the car door, making sure to bump Sam in the process. Bucky felt heat rise to his cheeks, glad that you weren’t looking over towards him to see it. “I’m taking this silence to mean that you do want to roast in the car.”

“Sam, would you shut up?” you laughed, casually sticking a middle finger up behind your back as you walked past him to the trunk.

“You and these middle fingers today,” Sam muttered.

“I have another one if you’d like to see it.” You grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulder.

“I’m good.” He picked up his bag from the ground before heading towards the house, which the rest of the team was already situated in. You went to grab your suitcase but Bucky swatted your hand away, grabbing it himself and closing the trunk.

“I got it,” he insisted like the true gentleman he was. As much as you wanted to argue, you knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere.

“Why thank you, good sir.” You bumped his shoulder with your own and walked ahead, jumping up the three steps to the porch and opening the door.

“All in a day’s work.” He lifted the suitcases up the steps with ease and slipped past you to get inside. The feeling of air conditioning inside the cabin was a major relief from the heat outside.

“Glad to see the lovebirds finally showed up,” Tony said once you and Bucky were completely inside the cabin.

“You better watch out, Tony. Y/N’s got middle fingers for days over there.”

“Shut up, Sam!”

A chorus of laughter rang out throughout the cabin and you made sure to shoulder check Sam as you passed him to get to the kitchen.  

---

“Okay, I have the perfect plan to get you and Barnes together this weekend,’ Natasha said as she pulled out clothes from her suitcase. You two were sharing a room for the week and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not. You loved Nat to death but lately she had been trying especially hard to get you to make a move on Bucky and it was only slightly annoying.

“The perfect plan, huh? Even more perfect than the last perfect plan?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I forgot to account for the fact you both have a tendency to wake up at ungodly hours in the morning last time. I promise it’s foolproof this time.”

“Well then, let’s hear it.”

“Alright. Before you got in here--you know, when you were busy flirting with Bucky.” She winked, to which you rolled your eyes. “Well Tony was talking about taking the boat out and going tubing. So what we have to do is get you and Bucky to go on the tube together. Tony’s a crazy driver so you’ll get thrown off pretty fast. Bucky will get so worried he’ll just have to confess his love to you.”

“Two issues.” You pointed a finger at her. “One, how am I going to get Bucky on a tube? It will be hard enough to get him on the boat alone. Two,” You held up another finger. “why would he confess his love at that very moment? That’s insane.”

“One,” She grabbed one of your fingers and put it down. “he’s whipped for you. I guarantee that if you ask, he’ll do it without a second thought.”

“Sure he would,” you scoffed.

“Uh, I know he would.” She gave you a knowing smirk. “Two, he gets worried about you all the time and I’ve seen him get close to confessing every time. We just gotta push him over the edge.”

“Bucky getting protective is just him being my best friend. He used to be just like that with Steve too.” You put your arm down, shuffling over to your own bed to take some clothes out of the blue suitcase on top of it.

“No, it’s definitely more than best friend love.” She moved to sit down on your bed.

“Either way, it usually ends in some kind of fight and I’d like to avoid that this weekend.”

“Who’s he gonna fight? Tony?”

“I mean, you never know.” It wouldn’t be the first time.  

~

“I can’t wait to get back and shove these things in my mouth,” you said with a grin as you exited the bakery behind Bucky, a bag of donut holes in your hand.

“Gee, really? It’s almost like you haven’t been talking about it for the past three days,” Bucky chuckled, reaching for the bag.

You pulled the bag away from him with a fake scoff. “Oh, I don’t think so, mister. We have to wait until we get back. The anticipation makes them taste better.”

“You’re insufferable.” He elbowed your side and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Damn, you looking fine over there, mama!”

You took in a sharp breath. It wasn’t all that uncommon for you to get cat called while out and about. You were in New York City, for fucks sake. That didn’t mean that it made you feel any less uncomfortable, though.  

As much as it stung, you didn’t want to start anything. You stared straight ahead and prayed Bucky didn’t hear it. Much to your dismay though, he stiffened next to you, subtly glancing back to see who was talking to you in such a vulgar way. Damn that supersoldier enhanced hearing.

“Hey, sweetcheeks!” You felt a tug on your shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me?”

You huffed, shaking the harsh grip off your shoulder and picking up the pace. You expected Bucky to keep going with you so you continued walking, frowning when you noticed he wasn’t beside you anymore.

“Listen here, you little shit,” Bucky seethed, stepping in front of the man and blocking you from his sight. “She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you. Leave her, and every other woman you ever lay your beady little eyes on, alone.”

“And what’re you gonna do about it?” the man smirked. “She need her boyfriend to defend her?”

Bucky stepped closer, crossing his arms and giving the famous ‘Bucky stare.’ “Doesn’t matter who I am. You better back the fuck away before I make you life hell.”

A few onlookers started lingering around, some with their phones out and recording the scene, almost as if they wanted to see a fight break out between the two men. ‘Winter Soldier vs Everyday Pedestrian  was sure to be trending somewhere soon enough.

“Buck,” you said quietly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and ignoring the obvious stares you were receiving, most notably from the man whose face Bucky was ready to punch in. “Let’s just go.”

You could see the gears turning in his head, trying to decide if he should let it go or punch the living daylights out of the guy. He let out a soft sigh after a moment, relaxing into your grip. With one last look at the man, he turned around and placed his hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you forward.

“Aye, it’s all good. I’m sure I’ll see that tight ass ‘round here soon anyways.”

That was the last straw for Bucky. He growled with a ferocity you hadn’t heard before and whipped around, not even hesitating to use his metal arm to punch the guy. The crowd gasped, more bringing their phones out to capture what was sure to be a great fight.

“What the fuck was-” Bucky grabbed him by his collar, pushing him up again the exposed brick of a restaurant.

“There’s plenty more where that came from and, judging by the way you’re looking at me, I bet you don’t want to see it. So do the rest of humanity a favor and fuck off.” He let go of the man’s collar and stepped back, unclenching his fist and pivoting back towards you. “Come on, doll.”

You shook the shock off your face and fell into step next to him. His arm warped around you, pulling you into his side. You could feel the fumes radiating off of him as you walked back to the tower, choosing to stay quiet as you let him cool off.

You paused once you reached the entrance of the tower. Tony probably already knew about what happened and he sure wasn’t going to be happy about it. Bucky’s media presence hadn’t necessarily been bad lately, but it wasn’t perfect either. The public was still wary. To many, the Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier were still the same person.  

Things definitely felt off when you entered. You got the side eye from a few people in the elevator and you weren’t sure if it was because of the fight fiasco or because of how tightly Bucky was holding you to his side.

“Want to eat these in my room?” you asked once you stepped off the elevator.

“Sounds good.” His voice was distant as his eyes searched the room.

“Mr. Barnes,” FRIDAY’s voice startled the two of you, making you drop the donut holes. “Mr. Stark has requested to see you in his office.”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll be there in a few.” He picked up the bag and handed it back to you. “Apparently, I have business to attend to.”

You simply nodded. He went in the other direction towards Tony’s office pausing at the door before knocking. You sent him a thumbs up before he went in, but he didn’t look back at you to see it. You retreated to your room, placing your wallet on the dresser and popping a donut hole in your mouth.

“Maybe I should get a plate,” you wondered aloud. You needed to grab your water bottle anyways. Might as well make the trip. You put the donut holes on your bed and started making your way to the kitchen.

“She’s perfectly capable of handling herself, you know.” You couldn’t help but stop as you heard Tony’s voice through the door of his office.

“But she shouldn’t have to.” Bucky sounded stressed and you could only imagine the hell Tony was reigning on him. “Her ignoring him wasn’t going to do anything. I didn’t want to beat the guy up but he was harassing her and it needed to stop.”

“And this doesn’t have anything to do with any particular feelings you have for her, right?” The sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

“Tony-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Barnes. You know how the public sees you. I don’t know how we’re going to fix this.”

“That guy harassed her! I couldn’t stand there and just let it happen!” God, you wanted to give him a hug so bad right now.

“I don’t care what it was, Bucky. Having heart eyes for Y/N doesn’t mean-” You took that as your cue to leave. You grabbed a plate and two water bottles from the kitchen and made sure to take the long way around to your room in order to avoid whatever was going on between the two of them.

Bucky showed up a half hour later, plopping down next to you on your bed with a little more space than usual.

~

“I’m just saying, it could work.” Nat got off your bed. “The cookout’s starting soon. Put on something cute.” She was gone before you could respond, leaving you to look for an outfit that would, as Nat liked to say, “knock Bucky off his ass.”

---

“Ooh, Y/N, looking to impress someone?” Sam called out as you walked out into the backyard. It seemed that most everyone else was already out there, helping make dinner or sitting on the dock.

You stuck up your middle finger in reply, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

“Oh stop it, Sam,” Wanda said as she walked towards you. “You look amazing!”

“Aww, thank you! You look absolutely stunning yourself.” Wanda reached out her hand and nodded towards the dock, urging you to come with her and join the group. You grabbed it and let her drag you down there, giving a small wave to Bucky as you passed him near the grill.

Bucky waved back, a grin spanning the expanse of his face at the sight of you. He kept his gaze on you as you made your way down to the dock, not even realizing just how intently he was staring.

“Someone’s staring at you,” Nat said with a suggestive smirk once you were close enough to the dock.

“He has a starting problem. We all know that,” you argued, sitting down across from her.

“I don’t know. He looks like he wants nothing more than to-”

“Nat, I love you, but please shut up.” She raised her hands up in the defense and Wanda giggled.

“I’m just saying.”

“You okay over there?” Steve shifted his focus from the burgers to his 100-year-old friend for a second, of course noticing the sudden silence that ensued the second you entered Bucky’s line of vision. “Buck?”

“Huh?” Bucky’s head turned sharply in Steve’s direction.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” A shy smile.

“Are you going to ask her out soon?” He flipped some burgers over and pulled the lid of the grill closed.

“I’m getting to it, yeesh,” Bucky chuckled.

“That’s what you’ve been saying since forever.”

“And it’s what I’ll keep saying every time you pester me about it.”

“Well if you don’t make a move soon, maybe I’ll swoop in-”

“Nope! You will not do that.” He nudged Steve in the shoulder and started making his way to the dock. “You absolutely will not do that.”

Soon. He was going to do it soon.

---

“Who’s next?” Tony called from the driver’s seat of the boat. You handed Sam a towel as he got back on the boat, drenched from flying off the tube a second earlier.

“You should go with Bucky.” Wanda nudged you with a teasing smile. You glanced over to the man in question, seeing him sitting next to Steve. He wore a t-shirt and swim shorts with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, and he looked damn good.

“I’ll go,” you announced, standing up and taking your t-shirt off, leaving you in your favorite swimsuit and a pair of shorts. You handed Wanda the shirt so it wouldn’t get wet. “Anyone wanna go with me?” Wanda jabbed your leg and gave you a playful glare.

“Go with her,” Steve muttered to Bucky, bumping his shoulder with his own.

“I don’t know, Steve.” Bucky sighed. Steve rolled his eyes, knowing that his best friend just needed a little push. 

“Bucky will go with you,” Steve said a bit louder than necessary. Bucky groaned quietly at his friend, taking off his sunglasses and putting them in his seat. He made sure to give Steve a certain look before making his way towards the back of the boat. You both grabbed your life jackets and started securing them as Sam moved out of your way.

“Cyborg!” Tony called out. “You going to take your shirt off?”

You felt Nat snort as she helped you off of the back of the boat and onto the tube. “Yeah, Bucky. Why don’t you show off your muscles for your girlfriend here.”

“Nat!” You paused for a second to look back at her with fake betrayal.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He snapped the last clasp on the life vest and checked to make sure you were all the way on the tube so he could start getting on.

“Oh, come on, Buckaroo!” Sam laughed. He started a chant of “take it off” with the rest of the team (even you, though you’d never admit it).

“Fine,” Bucky grumbled, hastily taking off the life jacket and shirt. He threw the shirt to the middle of the boat and resecured the lifevest, ignoring Nat’s hand offered out for help as he climbed on the tube. His famous Bucky glare melted off his face the second he saw your bright smile and he found himself smiling too.

“I don’t know how well this is going to go but it’s gonna be fun,” you said as he grabbed onto the handles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Tony’s a crazy driver and we’ve never been able to get you on a tube before. I’m betting you’ll fly off in the first three minutes.”

The tube jerked forwards before Bucky could say anything else. You started picking up speed quickly and soon enough, Bucky was holding the handles with a death grip. You ended up being right and about two minutes in, you hit a wave that threw him off.

“Are you okay?” you asked in between laughs as he struggled to get back on.

“Yeah,” he muttered, a hint of annoyance on his face. You threw a thumbs up to Tony, who nodded and started moving again. “It’s like he’s trying to throw us off.”

“Well half the fun is falling off.”

“You people have strange ways of entertaining yourselves on Sunday afternoons.”

“What would you suggest we rather do then?”

“I don’t know. Something that doesn’t involve giving myself whiplash for ‘fun.’”

“You’re such an old man.” You let go of a handle to smack his arm. Of course, at that exact moment, you hit a wave strong enough to throw both of you off. You shrieked as you flew off of the tube before smacking the water. Whether it was the lack of paying attention or a scheme by Nat and Steve, the boat kept going, leaving the two of you floating in the middle of the lake by yourselves.

“Where are they going?” You furrowed your eyebrows, though a grin was still evident on your face.

“Are you okay?” Bucky ignored your question as he swam over to you, worriedly grabbing your face and checking for injury.

“Buck, I’m fine,” you said, though you didn’t do anything to stop his injury check. He sighed and looked towards the direction the boat went. It seemed that they were already long gone.

“That shriek had me worried there for a second, doll.” His hands dropped from your cheeks and you found yourself missing his touch.

“No need to worry. I’m all good over here.”

“Good.”

A lull of conversation fell over the two of you as you treaded water. You slowly moved closer, noses almost touching when Bucky glanced down to your lips. You nodded. I want this too.

His lips brushed over yours: eyes closed and hands dipping under the water to grab your waist.

“There you are!” you heard Sam’s voice shout. You quickly separated, looking awkwardly down at the water as you tried to focus on anything but each other. “Thought we lost you. Didn’t interrupt anything, I hope.” He smirked at Bucky.

This time, it was Bucky flipping him off.

---

You tried to be quiet as possible as you tiptoed through the hallway, hoping that you wouldn’t step on any particularly squeaky floorboards in the dark. You started opening drawers once you made it to the kitchen in search of a flashlight. Did Tony even own basic technology like that?

“What are you doing, doll?” A soft voice broke you from your thoughts. A pair of blue eyes stared back at you.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Oh, okay.”

“You look like a deer in headlights.” His lips turned into an almost smile. “Are you running away?”

“Just down to the dock. Need to clear my mind.” Nightmares.

He nodded. An unspoken understanding. Maybe that’s what made you such great friends.

“Mind if I join?”

“Sure.” You finally found a flashlight and grabbed it, sliding the drawer shut with your hip. You slid the glass door to the porch open, leaving Bucky to follow you out.  

Warmth surrounded you as you made your way to the dock. The humidity was atrocious during the day but at night, it was somehow comforting. The buzzing of bugs in the surrounding woods brought you a level of peace that the hum of air conditioning inside couldn’t. You sat down at the edge of the dock, dipping your toes in the cool lakewater.

Bucky sat down next to you a moment later. Your silence contrasted with that of the busy summer night, but it was comfortable. Nothing needed to be said; the presence of each other was more than enough.

“You know,” he started, his gaze not leaving the shoreline across the way. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”

You glanced over to him for a second, taking subtle notice of his features when his guard was down. The dark circles under his eyes mirrored yours, yet he looked relaxed.

“And what if I don’t?” The slight stain of your voice didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” His head turned to meet you eyes. The soft upturn of your lips and content sigh told him that was the right answer. Your hand inched closer to his, your pinkies brushing on the splintered wood of the dock.

“How do you always know what to say?” Your gaze followed his across the lake, catching sight of a few deer grazing on the grass at the edge of the woods.

“I guess being alive for 106 years has to give me some kind of wisdom, right?”

You snorted, breaking the quiet atmosphere the two of you had created for the first time that night.

“I dunno. You’re still kind of a dumbass.”

“And you're still kind of a smartass, so where does that get us?” A grin spread across his face and there was no sight you loved more.

“God, I love seeing you smile.” A blush coated his cheeks at your words and he prayed you couldn’t see it in the dark of the night.

Your hands inched closer for a second time that night. A metal hand reached across to grab yours, his other arm going around your waist to pull you closer. Your head rested beneath his chin as he rubbed circles into your side.

“Thank you,” you mumbled after a few minutes of quiet.

“For what?”

“Your face.”

His chest rumbled with laughter and he squeezed you just the slightest bit tighter. “Glad I could be of service, doll.”

“Seriously, though . . .Thank you for being around. I know we joke around a lot but it really means a lot that you’re willing to sit out here with me.”

“I mean, technically, it was more of me inviting myself than putting myself through the torture of sitting here with you.”

You pulled away from his chest, shifting yourself so you could look at him better. “For real, Buck.” You put your hands on his cheeks. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Just do it, Bucky. Now’s the time.

He let out a breath as he smiled, looking anywhere but in your eyes as he contemplated what to do next. The hand not holding your waist came to brush back a piece of hair that had fallen in your face.

“Can I kiss you?”

You looked shocked for a moment, leaving him to wonder if he’d been reading it wrong all along. “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry! I thought that-”

You cut him off, pressing your lips against his. Your hands moved to wrap around his neck as his grabbed your hips. It was everything you needed and yet it still wasn’t enough.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this to happen,” you breathed once you pulled away. This grin on your face mirrored his as he pressed his forehead against yours, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“Actually . . . I think I might.” He dipped back in for another kiss, this one a bit softer than the first, but just as passionate.

A sudden breeze swept through the night and you shivered. It would have been a relief from the heat if you weren’t already having chills due to the man in front of you.

“Let’s get you back inside, doll.”

You were reluctant to let go of him. The moment you’d been waiting for for so long finally happened and you felt yourself scared to be too far from him.

You shifted your weight back so he could get up, not realizing just how close to the edge of the dock you were. Bucky let go of your hips before you could warm him and you felt yourself falling backwards in slow motion. A small yelp left your lips and Bucky’s attempt to save you was futile as your hands slipped through his.

“Cold, cold, cold!” you chanted once you surfaced, barely hearing yourself over how loud Bucky was laughing.

“Are you okay?” he choked out in between his laughter, kneeling at the edge of the dock and holding his hand out towards you. You grabbed his hand with a glare.

“I have half a mind to yank you in here with me.” His eyes widened at your words.

“Don’t you dare!” You tugged his arm lightly, just enough to get his face closer to yours.

“I guess I can spare you. Just this one time.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling yourself up onto the dock. “But I think I deserve a hug for my troubles.”

“Can’t deny my girlfriend that, now can I?” He pulled you into a hug, cradling your head on his chest and pressing his lips to your hairline.

“I’m your girlfriend, huh? Damn, we’re moving fast! Do you have the wedding planned already?”

“Oh please. I think we all know we’ve basically been dating for a while now.”

“Perhaps.” The two of you stayed in that position for a moment longer before another breeze came.  “Should we go in now that we’re both wet and cold?”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea, doll.” Keeping an arm around each other, you slowly made your way back to the cabin, already making plans for a proper date once the trip was over.

---

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[i-need-air]

Hybrid!AU Wolf!Bakugou Katsuki HCs Part 2.

Summary: Part 2 is here! While in part 1 it was mostly adoption and how he'd behave with you as a roommate, part two is him ✨ realizing things ✨ followed by how he'd be in a romantic relationship.

Word Count: 2k words [ oops, I did it again ]

Notes: So I said it'll be out in a few days but three [3] people asked me for part 2 and I'm a sucker soooooooo!! I could've just written a long ass fic but whatever, I thought I'd make it shorter in headcanons... hah lol right. Enjoy!

Part 1 here!

× he's a wild wolf so he's very active; like you need to understand he needs to go outside if not he'd get impatient, more aggressive, snappy, so once you took him on an easy hiking trail near your house and he loved it so once or twice a month you both go together to different places [ he demands it ]

× it's hard to keep up with him bc he's literally genetically engineered to be better than any very fit human being but he slows down for you

× morning runs at 5 a.m. bc he's insane

× is also a grandpa

× watched all documentaries on any streaming platform you could provide to him, also loves reading

× as months pass and you start to have your routine in order, word comes to you that an acquaintance is looking for a security guard at his mechanical shop two streets away from your house

× you casually mentioned it to Bakugou because he was starting to act anxious whenever you'd leave the house, so you assumed he was extra bored

× seriously, the house was spotlessly cleaned, he cooked amazingly and was occupied with your old laptop and going around the city to explore, but you guessed he wanted more independence?

× little did you know you were right but so wrong lol

× so Bakugou stared at you intensely and asked "Where?"

× it was as easy as telling him the location, him nodding and you thought he'd consider it; you didn't put any pressure on him because he already did so much to help around anyway

× well guess what bitch, next day he comes up to you saying you gotta co-sign his contract [cuz fuck society] meaning he got the job

× he was perfect for it because tall, intimidating, muscular wolf guy? who'd even mess with him? do they have a death wish?

× well, even before this he started to be... soft

× but once you really did show him you support whatever he wants to do, you give him his freedom and liberty of choice, he just reaaally changes, man

× he gets touchy, like his hands stay one second longer on your skin, he uses any excuse to have them on you, even his eyes follow you everywhere

× like c'mon, it's obvious but you didn't wanna put too much thought into it because we're respectful here

× not like you had a big fat crush on him and slowly started to realize it too

× sike bitch he knows

× you think his super-hearing didn't catch the way your heartbeat spikes up every single time he touches you? *please*

× i think he knows before you know

× meanwhile he is working to discover his feelings too

× so your relationship slowly turns into a couple's like relationship but without anything official and of course no kissing or such [ sadly ]

× would get jealous easily

× basically because nothing is talked between you two and deep down is insecure

× why the hell do you smell like other people? was it just a hug or something else? hell, why would you even hug people when he's right there??? just ask and don't touch some extras????

× another thing he does is getting very close to you while you talk to somebody else; scoffs and glares at them too

× ok so!! gifts! he really appreciates any gift you give him but scolds you if you do because you genuinely don't need to do that

× of course he just scolds you and calls you an idiot so I do hope you already learned his language

× it basically means that you shouldn't have done it, he's really grateful but seriously you shouldn't have

× like that one time you saved up money to get him a good computer and he forgot how to speak for like an hour

× the softest thank you ever afterwards

× still sounded rough but he was shocked as fuck

× one thing that remained in your brain were his friends, as sometimes he'd mention them

× so you took it upon yourself to find them, of course with his permission

× gets genuinely overwhelmed and plays it off saying he wouldn't mind knowing where those idiots ended but you didn't miss the way his voice trembled

× for you to find them you needed names and any information he could provide so that's when he, after a long silence and a mesmerized look on his face, started really talking about his life

× which was fucked; won't get much into detail but he was indeed in a fighting ring, people came and bet on whoever was stronger, he even had to fight his friends, everything was filled with abuse and their conditions were subhuman...

× just overall awful

× you couldn't help but hug him tight, feeling him shake in your arms

× with a hesitant voice he asked if you really did think there was a chance to find them

× just couldn't believe how amazing he felt in your arms

× or how your determination that night made his heart clench and took a big weight off his shoulders

× anywho;;;; after his first paycheck he takes you out on cute dates

× never calls them that, just demands you dress up [helps you out cuz boy got style] and takes you to a nice coffee shop or something

× AND on your fifth not date cuz you're not official but there's this weird tension between you date he finally kinda s n a p s

× you honestly didn't expect the waiter to flirt with you, he came out as very pushy and even if you were a lil uncomfortable you smiled and brushed it off

× when the waiter suggested giving you his number the sandy blond hybrid growled

× which i shit you not made the whole coffee shop freeze

× and you froze too

× but neither of you could say anything because the oblivious fuck kept talking

× basically joking about how you should keep your pet in a leash, to which you got up, threw some money on the table, grabbed Bakugou by the hand and leave before he'd rip someone's head off

× it only took you to touch Bakugou's arm to calm him down as he followed behind you wordlessly

× so you stood outside, angry, deep red eyes on your figure

× and silence

× his hand still in yours

× it was warm and amazing and you felt angry but your heart was beating loudly; angry at the waiter that you wanted to go full Karen on and get fired but excited because that growl shook you to the core, as if you could tell it was territorial and it was because of that pig flirting with you and did Bakugou Katsuki just lace his fingers with you?!

× "Oi." he interrupted your thoughts

× he turned your frame towards him and pulled you [kinda harshly] into him

× you'd make a comment about it but brain empty, just Bakugou Katsuki blushing

× "You're mine, you get it?"

× skdjflglykshs

× it sounded like he asked but it was a demand so oops you're his now ok bye

× like I said, boy isn't dumb so he lowkey knew you felt something too

× legit from there on he's just soft as fuck

× has a hard time opening up but visibly tries for you

× still continues to be a pain in the ass, Bakugou Style, but with a loving teasing attitude behind it

× his eyes give him away all the time

× they shine whenever you're in his field of view so congrats because, and this is the best part:

× WOLVES MATE FOREVER 💕💓💞💗💝💟

× oh yeah, he's yours, no takebacks

× he isn't one to half-ass the relationship; you're his now and he'll do anything for you

× big time touch starved it hurts

× because he is shy

× so whenever you introduce him to hand holding and cuddles, he can't get enough

× not big on PDA [ and not recommended since human-hybrid relationships are kiiiinda frowned upon but it's getting better ]

× although at home it's another deal

× seriously cuddle him; he's big into the protector vibe so he's a big spoon almost exclusively unless it's to sleep on top of you

× speaking of! accept that even if your relationship isn't that intimate, he'd still hint about sleeping together in the same bed

× so you better catch on when he does because he'll just click his tongue and call you needy

× while dragging you to bed

× sleeps holding you, his nose in your hair or in the crook of your neck

× unless it's summer then stay on your side 💅

× you know those kisses that just scream "I can't get enough of you"? that's his whole kissing vibe in a sentence

× hell, even the gentlest kiss gives that vibe away and it'll 100% leave you breathless

× doesn't have experience but is a very fast learner

× pays very close attention to your body language

× really into biting your skin enough to leave marks

× wear his hoodies

× no, I'm fucking serious, wear them now

× his chest puffs and he turns into a blushing mess when you do it the first times because his scent is on you

× scenting is a big thing for him so of course he's gonna love it

× 10x more territorial because now he has a mate to protect

× jealous but trusts you

× still very jealous though

× let's all pretend he is definitely not scenting you before you go out because it's in his nature and it is embarrassing

× the first time he tells you he loves you it's when he's feeling vulnerable

× the search for his friends is still on-going, he feels less than adequate as a providing mate, is pissed at the world for treating him like an inferior animal when they created him, everything is piled on his shoulders and whenever than happens he closes off

× you notice immediately

× will not tell you at first

× it's only when you go to bed and he turns his back to you when you really know it's bad

× even if you fought before, he'd angrily snuggle you at night-time

× now it's so different

× hug him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear, pull a blanket all over you both and big spoon him, he'd start shaking and talking in no time

× will hide his tears from you but you'd know

× "You're the best fucking thing that happened to me, [Y/N]... I—... Shit... I love you so much."

× neither of you slept that night

× excuse you? drink some water and pray to jesus;;; you talked about feelings, ok? communication is key in a relationship, puh-lease

× [ i have this whole nsfw hcs post already cookin in my brain so maybe I'll make it happen cuz y'all know he has a mating season and all that comes with it 👀 ]

× back to being children of jesus here

× thanks the moon, the heavens and all the gods for putting you in his life; boy didn't believe in destiny but deep down he thinks you were meant to be

× you still better wash the dishes or you'll get your ass kicked.

Extra:

× you did find some of his friends, little by little, and even if he acted nonchalant, like k das cool, it was obvious he was extremely happy

× so they did get adopted too

× you got in contact with them on social media and they were all very excited about meeting

× so it was a chaotic meeting with a dog hybrid called Kirishima and a mouse like vibrat yellow guy called Kaminari

× they all were looking for Bakugou too since they were very worried about where he ended

× Kirishima shed manly tears when seeing Bakugou

× as they instantly welcomed you in their small group, they informed you both that the majority of the squad was adopted and they're in contact, while they're still actively looking for the others

× cue to the softest expression you've seen on Bakugou in public followed by "That's good"

× silence

× shock and silence

× Kaminari turning to you and whispering "You did this" with a hand on his heart, lips trembling as he wiped an imaginary tear

× insert instantly snappy Bakugou

× when everyone laughed and continued to make plans to meet up with the others, he just looked at you conversing with them, soft expression again on his features and his chest warming

× "Oh! Look, he's doing it again! Quick, take a pictur—"

× "SHINE!"

[kusagrasskusa]

Michael Myers X Murderer! Reader - Headcannons - "Death Card"

Also, thank you (Wattpad Person) for requesting this :) I know your the last request I got, so I prolly should have done someone else's request first, but your's was just easiest to find. (Also, I have it bad for Michael so )

Have fun reading this! I'm writing this on my laptop instead of computer so sorry if the formatting turns out worse than usual :/

Also...someone made fun of me for putting, "eight," and, "11," in the same sentence. I guess not many people know this, but anything under ten is supposed to be written out unless their fractions or decimals.

By the way, these basically aren't headcannons lol. It's just me wanting to write out a story but not being good enough to so I just write it down in simpler terms.

Enjoy~

Not only is Y/N just another famous murder who casually takes the lives of people, but she's amazing at hiding

..........until-

Y/N was an abusive home after her parents died when she was a toddler. Her aunt and uncle neglected her but karma came back at them when their car fell off a bridge, causing the pair to drown. The downside for the young Y/N was that she was put into a foster institution. And we all know by now that foster care are full of fights, drugs, weed, alcohol, and shitty employees.

As a young girl entering such a bad place, she was always a target. You know that sense of fear, worthlessness, and loneliness fucked with her head to where she felt lashing out felt great.

She would be unable to stop herself as she plunged a sharp object in and out of this prick that held her down for so long. But once she heard voices from other kids, she ran.

The story made headlines as the next big attack from yet another child. That's right, next. There was someone who inspired her to do what she did.

Of course, she always had that memory in the back of her head. That boy's violent actions filled her with immeasurable awe when she saw the news. However, she always had something more important to think about.

With so much dissatisfaction with her past, she could only fill herself up with adding things on to her in the present, and more in the future.

Y/N would steal Poker cards from people and always use the Ace of Spades to mark her kills by sliding the card into a wound. After all, betting games were the highlight of her day in the foster institution. She was always so good at it that it became her pride.

All these headlines and stories about how evil she is became such a big deal in her head. Such an overwhelming feeling of adrenaline every time she heard the name people would call her.

"The Death Card," is another name for Ace of Spades in most English countries. It was the perfect fit for Y/N.

(Ya'll, I feel like a fucking genius for coming up with that lol)

She was so good at hiding, truly. Kill someone in Kentucky, then move to Missouri. Killing someone there and move to Georgia, and so on.

Only in her hometown was she caught.

Michael was the one who started it all for her, as their same age and hometown made her feel connected to him, and finally where he got caught would be the same place she did.

14 years of hiding and killing led her to meeting him

Michael spent these 14 years sitting in complete silence. No talking, no humming, no singing, nothing. It's like he was always in his own world of thought, too busy in his imagination to interact with the real world.

Of course, there was times when he did pay attention to what's around him.

The news was the only thing he'd really pay close attention to. After all, what if something happens to Haddonfield while's he's stuck in there, and that causes plenty of people he once knew to move away?

But per usual, there was nothing about it

But there was something that caught his attention even by a little

"After 14 years, the notorious Death Card or Card of Death has finally been caught," says the Haddonfield Police Department. "While we're unsure of her motives thus far, we have been able to learn of who she is. Y/N L/N made the headlines once in 1980 at the age of eight as one of America's biggest crime cases with children as the culprit, having brutally stabbed a 15 year old boy. This happened just two years after the Michael Myers case, when a six year old boy stabbed his older sister in 1978. All else the HPD are saying is that her frantic behavior may lead her to a mental institution rather than letting her make legal decisions in court."

Michael paid attention to all the details of the report. For this report to be made about Haddonfield, chances are they'll be meeting each other soon.

The Death Card was a violent killer Michael heard of plenty of times however he never paid close attention to.

(Holy shit these are just headcannons so why am I writing long paragraphs)

He had to say, hearing about her violent stabbings were the highlight of his week. Even if he never felt strong about hearing other people having fun with their lives like she was, he couldn't help but almost feel pushed to do what she is. Living freely and ending those who cross his path...

Saying he was jealous or inspired would be a stretch though

He would spend his days painting paper mache masks while thinking of doing what she was for sure but he hated how she would show off by using those cards as if she didn't have a goal in mind, which was annoying to him. If you have nothing to live for, then kill yourself was his mindset.

Michael watched as Y/N stepped into court. He know hundreds- no thousands- of people watched as this woman of pure evil stepped into the courtroom. Her H/C hair flowed as she walked passed everyone, glaring at them with her cold E/C eyes.

A look of slight intrigue replaced his normal dull expression as he watched the girl stand up before the judge, smiling sassily at the cameras as to tell them to fuck off. Michael can recognize that look of intrusion on her face as she was practically interrogated. Clearly, she hated it there.

He watched contently as all the mystery surrounding the Card of Death was revealed to everyone in this world. Days went by of this court case before finally, she pled insanity. After all, she was known to have some underlying mental conditions as she remained so calm when talking about the varies of ways she would kill.

It's easy to see that many felt bad for the girl. Such trauma growing up led to the creation of this unfortunate human. But Michael? He didn't feel bad at all.

He never was sad or truly sympathetic however...he did feel pity. Somewhere in his soulless eyes held pity for this sad, sad girl he was soon to meet. Not exactly sympathy, but simply pity. And with that came respect.

The day that Y/N stepped foot into those doors was the day the two would meet for the very first times. Over 63 counts of first degree murder in 14 years led to the meeting of these two serial killers. At the time, they were both only 20.

Tables were scattered across the room with people talking or simply sitting alone by themselves on them. There was TV in a few different places around the room and board games in a couple of shelves. In the back of the large room was windows that showed the outside that felt so out of reach forever.

As the metal doors slammed behind her, she felt eyes on her immediately. Y/N slowly scanned the room as she gulped back the intense fear gathering in her stomach. Her lips parted open as she began to breath heavily and press her back on those metal doors.

She was so trapped and scared when she first entered that foster institution. She couldn't help but think of karma when her aunt would hurt her so badly for those five years before she died. But 63 murders are so much worse, so what could karma do to her to balance her evil deeds with punishment?

Laughter and giggled filled her ears as she shut her eyes tightly and covered her face with her arms. Her vision was going blurry; she was having a panic attack. Tears fell from her eyes as she whimpered quietly to herself.

She may be the Card of Death however she never had to be in a large group of people in so long.

Her body jerked as she was suddenly pulled away from those metal doors. She cried out when she saw a large man, around 6'7 (204cm), pull her away.

In just a few seconds, she was pulled to a metal table and forced to sit as the large man stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

Her body tensed unimaginably as they remained still for a few seconds, quiet aside from the occasional sobs of Y/N.

Then suddenly, the pressure on her shoulders disappeared. She heard nothing until the sound of creaking from the seat in front of her interrupted.

Y/N felt eyes on her. They were so intense over her.

A minute passed before her own eyes fluttered open, meeting the man's eyes in front of her.

A shiver ran down her spine when she came face to face with stone cold blue eyes that seemed to hold nothing within them. No light, no soul, and no sympathy. Not only that, but a orange mask made of paper mache covered the rest of his face as well.

The man tilted his head before lifting his hand onto the table, sliding something over to her. Y/N looked down at what he gave her.

"Don't speak. Write."

Michael had given her a paper with these words. His handwriting was hard to read considering he nearly never wrote anything so it took a moment before Y/N got the message. When she did, she looked back up at the man and nodded just a little so it was barely recognizable.

Obviously this conversation was to be secretive so she knew to barely show signs of interactions. The camera couldn't pick up on such a small nod to what evidence is there of them even interacting?

Michael slid the paper back to him and brought a pencil to the paper after erasing the original text. When he slid it back to her, it read, "Don't let anyone know what we say Y/N. They watch everything." When Y/N looked back up at him, she saw him dart his eyes from something behind her to something on the wall between them. She turned her head slightly to the side, noticing a camera on the wall. So she understood.

Michael had dropped on the pencil on the table, meaning it was her turn to reply. She erased the previous text before writing down, "Who are you? How do you know me?" When she slid it back, Michael took the pencil in his hand again.

"Michael Myers. I was a well known case two years before you. We heard a lot about you on TV."

"As in the boy who killed his sister at the age of six?"

"Yes. You know me?"

Y/N's eyes widened slightly as she frantically wrote down a reply. Without even noticing, the knot in her stomach had completely disappeared without a trace.

"I remember seeing your case. I thought about everyday."

Michael didn't reply immediately after reading. Instead, he waited a few minutes and stared down at the table. A look of confusion remained on Y/N's features as she impatiently waited. Then suddenly, Michael erased what was on the paper and simply drew a masked person looking somewhat like himself with a knife in his hand. He drew dead stick figures around it with blood splattering everywhere.

Michael knew that this picture would cover up all the eraser marks and writings that were still slightly visible. So when the guard that walked up behind Y/N without her knowing popped up, he didn't see any text.

Of course, this did lead to the paper being taken away. Then minutes after that, both of the pair was taken away.

If there's one thing as scary as analyzing The Shape and caring for him, it's that person who cares and analyzes him finding him interacting with someone else for the first time.

Whenever Y/N got sat down in her cell, she knew what was about to happen. She was sat down in her bed as a man she'd never seen before sat down in the chair that came with her little desk in her cell with a guard next to him.

Have you ever spoken to Michael? Are you related to him? How do you know him? How does he know you? Have you ever met his family? Why did he interact to you? Why was he drawing things for you? Does he like you? Does he hate you? Did he write to you? Did you hear him talk?

So many questions were asked by this Dr Loomis in such short amount of time. "No, no, I don't, no, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, no, no," and mostly these were your responses. No matter how many times Loomis asked, you dully replied.

You simply said he sat you down and you began to draw together, both filling in a piece of the drawing together.

And eventually, you got out.

Another day went by of "talking" to Michael.

And another.

And another.

The talks were nice and casual. What goes on in the asylum? What goes on in the outside? Who should I avoid? What's the reputation of the HPD?

Do you want to escape?

But it was only a matter of time before finally the two were friends.

Y/N was kinda just in her cell one night in bed. Then she just gasped and widened her eyes. Wait, are we friends? We're friends, right!

Michael already knew of their friendship like two weeks before she did. It felt so...wrong for him. He had always been alone and silent. How could someone like her even be so likeable to him? He didn't really understand it but he knew he hated it.

One day, the two were writing to each other per usual. Michael unintentionally added a pun in one of his comments, causing Y/N to giggle. Michael cocked his head to the side in confusion, strangely feeling heat rise his face and his heart speed up. It was air conditioned so he suspected he may have gotten sick.

Whenever the two had to go back to their cells, that feeling suddenly disappeared. Then it hit him. Oh fuck-

Hell, only a week later did Y/N feel herself experiencing the same symptoms. Michael notices that Y/N would shake and fidget a lot when they interacted, making him wonder of she was cold. As a friend, it was only right for him to sit next to her and hold her close to keep her warm, right? Y/N's face went red and damn that was embarrassing. But of course, that didn't mean Y/N wouldn't hug him back.

Eventually the two were basically cuddling. The two hugging each other warmly as Y/N rested her head on his chest, struggling to stay awake as they got more comfortable by the second.

But of course, Dr Loomis caught eye of that.

The doctor had been looking deep into al the interactions these two evil beings have had. They act so casual, so normal with each other, surely more than just drawing is happening between them, right?

The doctor had pulled them into his office separately to interrogate them. While Y/N bluntly answered his questions to make him just shut up as quickly as possible, she couldn't help but think to herself. She knows that she and Michael are mentally ill, but he should definitely be fixed by now. He's smart and creative and can casually talk to people, so it's like the only thing keeping him here is that the doctors are so ill-equipped that they can't make the necessary breakthrough to save him.

Of course, just a month later, another incident happened like this. Y/N was having a bad migraine so Michael got her to just sit down and wait for him during lunch. He brought over two trays of food for them and was sure to trade with Y/N so she can eat the things she likes and he could have the things she dislikes.

Another time, a bipolar guy ran into Michael and shoved him as if it was his fault. Michael shoved him back instinctively, causing a fight to disperse between the two. As security guards took notice, Y/N was quick to push Michael away softly and ball a fist to punch the fuck out of that guy- like a, "YO WHATCHU SAY ABOUT MY MAN?" type shit. Y/N did this to seem like she was hitting back and that Michael hadn't done anything wrong.

And when each other's birthday's rolled around, they had their own celebration. Y/N was given her own paper mache mask as a gift and a small cupcake from the cafe. Michael was given stolen art supplies that were taken from other guests and also a cupcake.

Y/N slowly stopped having panic attacks, but she definitely had her moments. Of course, Michael sat with her through it.

Dr Loomis recorded all this shit so he can gather data on Michael. Then the question hit him: How would Michael react if Y/N was gone for a few days? Does he truly care about her or is he just using her?

If you think Michael hated Loomis before, wait til he pieced together the disappearance of girlfriend and the extensive eyesight on him from security guards. For the hell he raised about it, he had to get sterilized and put into a cell without being able to get out for a few days.

Y/N remained bored in her cell for days. So what better could she do than annoy the guard watching her? She would just talk nonstop for what felt like hours and hours. The dude watching her was just getting more pissed off by the second.

"Would you shut up? Crazy bitch," he hissed, hitting the cell door. Y/N giggled cockily, shaking her head. Even if she deserved to be yelled at for continuing to talk, the Card of Death refused to back down. But when the guard went inside her cell and locked the door behind him, she got a bit worried.

Y/N got off her bed and threatened him cockily, to which he responded with physical force.

Of course, Smith's Groove is ill-equipped so even with proof of being hit and tazed, Y/N couldn't do anything to get the guard fired. But Michael?

A full month without seeing each other was like a slow suicide. But when they finally got to see each other again, the two was sure to write so much about their time alone as if they were teenage friends discussing their fun weekends. However, things turned dark whenever Y/N brought up the guard.

Michael didn't show any emotions at all, no matter what happens. But Y/N learned to guess how he's feeling depending on how long he takes to respond. Slowed blinking as if he was in thought, and slower reading as got analyze her writing closer were typically bad signs.

About a year had passed since they met at this time. A year to plan to escape. By now, the two were both 21 and fully prepared to leave once and for all.

Whenever that security guard had walked passed Michael's cell one night, Michael had knocked on the door to signal him. Michael slipped a paper through the doorslot, as he was given paper since he doesn't talk, saying he found a dead mouse in his cell. The guard just huffed and let himself inside. Michael pointed to where the mouse supposedly was; and that was a mistake for the guard.

Right as that guard went to look, Michael got behind and covered his mouth before stabbing him in the neck with a paint brush that's but carved into a small blade. Within moments, the guard dropped dead onto the floor.

Taking the keys from the guard, Michael was able to let out nearly every single prisoner to this hell out of their cells. Including Y/N.

The world sister was the only thing left of the pair as it was engraved into the door of Michael's cell. And just like that, the two were gone.

How they got there so fast doesn't matter but eventually Y/N and Michael found an abandoned house to station at until the search around the area disappeared and they could move around quicker.

"I can't fucking believe it," Y/N cheered as she felt tears run down her face from happiness. She swayed across the room, taking in the smell of dust and air. Even something dirty felt so new to her that couldn't help but love it at the moment.

Michael would watch her as he sat down in an old wooden chair, cocking his head. His body was in complete shock as the realization of all that's happened in the past years came crashing down on him. This was the real world? This is what dust smells like? This is what shattered glass and broken wood looks like? This is what trees look like up close? This is what things look like without glass tinting the color?

This is what it feels like to celebrate with someone you love? Michael reminded himself that the girl in front of him changed his life so much. His urge to harm all around him was always so strong, but the thought of her being hurt felt a bad taste in his mouth.

He stood up from the chair, walking towards the ecstatic girl as she cried happily to herself and picked up random things to remind herself of what they feel like and all she takes for granted. She turned her head to him, smiling, "Michael, look, I found a-"

Y/N gasped as Michael gripped his mask and slowly moved it. Y/N watched in awe as for the first time, she saw her only friend in this world's real face. That pale skin and soulless eyes that she grew familiar with became so new to her again.

"Michael..." she whispered, stepping closer to him. Her face heated up as she felt the weight his eyes staring down at her. She lightly bit her lip, a shiver going down her spine.

He took a few steps closer as well, making the two remain inches away from each other. Now at this point, Y/N is questioning if Michael is gonna kill her or is gonna kiss her as he awkwardly put his hand to her cheek, brushing her hair away. She leaned her head into his hand, keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

In just a matter of moments, the two came together in a soft kiss. The moment was quiet as the two did their best to remain calm and together as this moment that was little way's overdue continued.

When the two pulled away, Y/N was quick to wrap her arms around him. Now she wasn't going to cry about it, but damn was that contact she needed so badly. The Death Card and The Shape were basically Yin and Yang with how one is emotional and the other in emotionless but their need for pain and each other is what kept it healthy.

Just imagine how much suffering families went through since the two got out.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I feel like you've touched on this in some of your AUs, but I was wondering what you think about the characterization of Bella as a danger magnet.

Originally, I thought it was used as a plot device to allow Edward to be her savior in the parking lot and in Port Angeles (which to me read as the typical romance trope) and for the James and Victoria plotlines to play out, among other things.

In-universe, however, I find the mention of this distracting. I don't think fate or life work that way where one person would have horrible luck or attract more danger than anyone else (outside of marginalization, which isn't the case here. Even considering the power imbalance between vampires/werewolves and humans doesn't do much of the leg work.)

Is it just a combination of Bella's clumsiness that has landed her in the hospital multiple times and her not being scared of the supernatural? Her sweet, sweet blood that attracts predators? In canon, both Bella and Edward accept that she's simply a danger magnet but that explanation doesn't make sense to me. What do you think?

I'm actually not sure I have touched on it, at least, not directly. I think I just make one-liner gags then go on my merry way.

But let's get into it.

Regardless of whether this is a reasonable thing to believe or not, both Bella and Edward have their reasons for wholeheartedly believing it to be true.

Why Does Edward Insist Bella's a Danger Magnet?

Edward, early in Twilight, is actively panicking about his involvement in Bella's life. He knows that a better man would stay completely away from Bella, worse yet, Carlisle keeps reminding Edward that a better person would move out of Forks altogether (as Carlisle keeps begging Edward to do rather than tempt fate and eat Bella).

Edward cannot justify his existence in Bella's life and it utterly torments him.

And then, it happens, Edward realizes that the gods themselves despise Bella Swan. Bella is riding in the chariot of a man hated by Zeus.

He likens this to a feeling of divine revelation: Bella Swan needs him.

Without his involvement in her life she might be crushed by a van, raped in Port Angeles, eaten by bears, you name it. Something terrible will happen to the most wonderful creature on the planet unless he personally is there to stop it.

Edward is suddenly no longer the monster (or at least, not only the monster), he is Bella's personal protector, fighting against fate itself to keep this beautiful creature alive. A dark protector, kind of like Batman, but cooler.

Edward now not only has reason to stay in Bella's life, he must do so, otherwise she could very well die. THAT SPIDER IN HER BED COULD EAT HER RIGHT NOW.

And true, he still planned to leave in due time, but he also breathed a sigh of relief as he could assuage his torn conscience. Don't worry, everybody, if Edward's not lurking in Bella's bedroom every night with her blissfully unaware then she'll be eaten by a space shark. So it's all cool.

Of course, he always intends to leave her, but now he can do so at a later date.

In New Moon, Edward is reminded that this isn't quite the case. He himself, his family, is the greatest danger to Bella there is. He can no longer justify his presence in her life. As a result he cuts ties immediately.

When he comes back in Eclipse, given all the shit that's happened to Bella, he can once more justify his presence and get that sweet sweet relief knowing that, without him, the universe will literally collapse upon Bella Swan.

Hence, Edward's theory: the universe is actively out to get Bella Swan. Either God is a cruel jackass who is tormenting this perfect person or else made Bella, the perfect woman, specifically so that Edward can protect her. Edward can't decide which.

Bella thought Edward confessing this was deeply romantic.

Why Does Bella Insist She's a Danger Magnet?

Bella is a depressed teenager. Like many teenagers, she thinks everything is about her. Everyone hates her, everyone's looking at her, everyone thinks she's ugly, the universe is literally out to get her.

Bella is not the first, and not the last, teenager to think that the world is literally against her. Everything terrible happens to her and life is woe. This isn't all that weird of a thing for her to believe (especially as, in general, weird shit does happen to her).

More, Edward presents his case very eloquently. Edward's batshit insane, but the beauty of him is that he somehow says it in a manner that's not always immediately obvious. He often sounds rather poetic and reasonable.

Edward says, "Perhaps God is trying to kill you."

Bella sits there eating her mushroom raviolli, "Makes sense to me. Also, you know that waitress is hitting on you, right?"

Is Bella a Danger Magnet?

Well, we don't know anything about higher powers in the Twilight universe, that's left very open ended. What I will say is that a lot of weird shit does seem to happen to Bella with a frequency that, were I to sit down and do the back of the envelope calculations, is statistically unlikely.

Now, some of these follow the others: Victoria hunting Bella is related to Bella first capturing James attention. Bella's involvement with the wolves is related to James and Victoria showing up. Bella's interaction with the Volturi centers upon having met Edward Cullen.

However, let's break down the bullshit that happens to Bella Swan.

First, she happens to move to Forks during the period where the Cullens are in Forks. That Bella happens to move to the small town where there are vampires is highly unlikely to begin with. That she moves there in the time period in which the Cullens happens to be there is also unlikely.

We're already talking small probabilities.

Two, Bella happens to be a singer for one of these vampires. Singers are extraordinarily rare. Aro, who is 3500 years old, has never encountered one. Carlisle, 350 years old, seems to have never met one. Emmett seems to be many standard deviations off the normal for meeting two, still meets them decades apart across a wide variety of space. This is a very small probability.

Three, not a week later, Bella is nearly crushed by a van in a parking lot. Now, this one's a lot more likely. P(Fatality|Icy Conditions) is not devastatingly high but it's not P(Move to Town With Fucking Vampires), but if we're doing the joint probability this is getting really really low likelihood (P(Move to Town With Fucking Vampires) * P(Vampire Singer) * P(Nearly Hit By Truck | Icy Conditions) ~= 0))

Not too long after that, Bella nearly gets raped and left in a dumpster in Port Angeles. Now, this probability, that of sexual assault, is sadly rather high. Especially in the conditions Bella was in. Now, happening to run into a serial rapist who is actually planning to kill her and put her body in a dumpster, that's a bit less high. What's suspect here is, again, the timing of it all.

Not too long after that, Bella happens to be watching the Cullens play baseball when three man eating vampires happen to be in the area. These vampires happen to include James, rather than any other vampire, who decides it'd be great to hunt Bella for sport. Which, of course, dominoes into the rest of canon.

Is Bella clumsy? Does she make poor decisions sometimes? Do some of these events lead to others? Yes.

Doesn't mean a bunch of weird shit doesn't happen to her. If I was Bella, I too, would be wondering what the fuck was up with my luck. I think it's safe to say she fails the Null Hypothesis test.

[threeminutesoflife]

Have You Any Wool?

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x Reader Warning: 18+, dub/con, manhandling/rough sex, breath play/choking, unprotected sex Summary: Engagement dinner with Ransom doesn't go as planned Word Count: 3.2k

The car ride home was silent, tense. The car bounced causing Ransom to grumble when it caught the edge of a pothole. One more thing that was surely your fault.

Ten more minutes passed until Ransom broke the silence by revisiting the earlier accusation, “You were flirting with him. Might as well have pulled your top down when talking to that fucking prick.”

“If I exposed my tits every time I talked to a prick, I’d constantly be topless around you.”

Ransom shot you a glare as the car whipped the curve out of the city and down a remote road, “It’d be safer for you to only be concerned about my prick.”

Your fingers dug into the car door as he straightened out the vehicle, “What did you-”

“Smarter. It’d be smarter for you to only be concerned about me- and my huge prick.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you- there was no flirting.”

“Could have fucking fooled me with those exchanges tossed around.”

“What the hell, Ransom, you’re ridiculous. There were no secret coded exchanges. Nothing said was of value.”

“Sure. Nothing. Whatever you say.” You didn’t have to look at your boyfriend to know he rolled his eyes at least twice when spitting out those words.

“What is wrong with you? Whatever untrue scene you cooked up in your crazy head- knock it off.”

Ransom scoffed out your name, “I know what I fucking saw.”

“Oh my god-“

“No, I’m Ransom. Your boyfriend,” his eyes staying on the road as he spoke heatedly at you, “but I know how you’ve recently become confused on our roles to each other. So let me break it down- really fucking simply for you. I don’t loan my toys out for others to play with.”

“Fucking hell, Ransom-“

“Hugh… I think, I’ll have you address me as Hugh from now on.”

Taking your beaded clutch, you smacked Ransom’s bicep, “How about I call you ‘asshole’ and tell you to lose my number!”

Ransom growled and grabbed your purse as he weaved along the isolated lane. Taking the clutch, he smacked your thigh in return and tossed it out his window.

You screeched seeing your belongings fly across the wooded night sky, “Are you insane?! Pullover! Pullover right the fuck now! Everything I have is in there!”

Ransom pressed down harder on the gas pedal, propelling you back against your seat. “You have me- that’s all that fucking matters. Fran can play fetch and get it tomorrow.”

“You can’t just order her- Ugh- Pull over right now, Ransom! Goddammit, you’re unbelievable! I need my keys, my phone, my fucking wallet! It’s all in there, you asshole!”

Ransom only picked out one thing from your rant, “I’m the asshole? What kind of grade A bullshit are you feeding yourself to believe that? You were the one flirting with someone in right front of me. I don’t need to be in this relationship, you know. Plenty of people want me.”

Your eyes narrowed at that, “Then let me out here if that’s how you really feel, asshole.”

Ransom ignored your challenge and the look you shot him to smugly add, “Besides, seems like you’re up shit’s creek without a paddle. No keys? Guess you need me pretty fucking badly now.”

He squeezed your thigh and slid he hand down closer to the apex of your thighs.

“Are you crazy?” You pushed his hand away and pressed your knees together tightly. “Are you seriously getting off on being a complete shitwad to me? And- hey asshole, look at me- he was the waiter. The waiter. He asked if we wanted dessert. Meaning you and me, Ransom- not him and me. With your sweet tooth, of course I asked about the dessert options! For you, Hugh.”

You flipped his car’s heater on with more force than necessary. Really at this point, all you wanted to do was smash every button and rearrange all his settings into chaos. “All this fighting, you’d think the rage would keep me warm. But no, it’s freezing in here!”

“Maybe try wearing more clothes and not letting your nips slip out to random men.” Ransom flipped the heater off with a smirk, “Should have brought a sweater.”

“I hope you fucking choke on your sweater,” You mumbled as you crossed your arms over your chest, feeling cold and vulnerable.

Ransom arched an eyebrow at your wish and internally gloated when you ran your hands over your arms, trying to warm up.

You refused to acknowledge him, keeping your eyes pointed out the window. “Just take me home. I know you keep my spare key on you.”

Ransom smacked the steering wheel in annoyance with how the evening went, making you slightly flinch.

He had been anxious all day and well-aware he was acting like a dick to you at the moment. But the untouched ring box in his coat pocket felt too heavy for him to speak kindly to anyone tonight, even you.

Ransom had been nervous since picking up the archaic piece of jewelry. A feeling that left him sneering at a weak characteristic of humanity. He wasn’t a soft individual, but he wasn’t as abrasive around you.

He knew he wanted you as soon as you met and rejected him, only then to turn around and tell him to meet you in the restroom at the charity event. He walked in expecting to receive a blowjob and gift you with a beaded necklace. Instead, he was surprised and became more aroused when you lifted up your gown and instructed him to get on his knees and press his lips to yours.

He had this night planned for a long time- the setting, the restaurant, little details ironed and starched out. But when he arrived at the perfect restaurant, he was quickly pulled aside- as perfect you was led away to the perfect table- and was quietly informed that the perfect waiter, who he perfectly coached to ensure the perfect timing, was perfectly out sick.

The stand-in waiter was a shit show, and Ransom was convinced the guy couldn’t even shit in a pile.

Besides being on edge all night from his nerves, Ransom was now on edge from the imbecile who couldn’t time the courses correctly and wouldn’t stop talking to you like you were friends playing twenty questions.

It felt like he was watching the waiter attempt to speed date you, every time circling around your seat with more questions. What are your side dish preferences, would you like more cheese, how about more pepper, would you like your glass refilled?

Were you actually flirting with the waiter? No, you were being a polite customer. But at that point of the night, all Ransom could focus on was the wasted time he spent on the preparations and his perfect proposal going down a perfectly shit-filled toilet.

But then as negativity was drowning Ransom’s thoughts, you did that thing only you could do.

You knew something was wrong with Ransom without having to ask. You took his hand across the table and gave it a light squeeze. A tilt of your head as you bit your lip and smiled endearingly at him. He felt your thumb rub the back of his hand, each graze softer than the last. He felt the sincerity in your smile and saw the concern in your eyes. You treated him in a way that was far better than he deserved- a way he didn’t know he wanted to be treated until meeting you.

And this was it. This was the moment he planned for.

You cemented it with that serene look of adoration for him.

This was right, this was perfect.

He gave a crooked smile and thumbed his pocket for the ring box. Clearing his throat, he softly said your name. Almost too softly, because you half-laughed and looked at him with a look of cute confusion. He held your hand just a little bit tighter, a little bit more desperate. He leaned in closer from across the table and-

The waiter came back and interrupted the moment by asking about dessert. As you pulled your hands away from Ransom, you smiled politely at the waiter. Ransom felt you and your obvious answer of yes slip away from him. And he was pissed.

As the ring grew cold again in the velvet box, he vowed with every bite of the overpriced, sickly-sweet dessert he’d never eat here again.

Ransom shook his head at the tension refilling the car. The ring still stashed away in his coat pocket, teasing him with how it wasn’t warming on your finger.

The ring was still cold, but his annoyance and sweater kept him plenty warm.

He’d make up for the fight later. You were his. You’d forgive him, you always did. But first, finding a small amount of humor in his ill-aimed anger, he turned the air conditioning on. Before you could protest, Ransom flipped on the radio and raised the volume to drown out the inevitable sound of your chattering teeth.

Shifting in your seat to find a comfortable spot, you kicked off your heels. Debating which was worse- cold feet or sore feet? Biting your tongue at Ransom’s childish air conditioning antics, you weren’t about to address him more than you’d have to. You were annoyed with yourself for agreeing to eat at this out-of-the-way restaurant, and even more annoyed at yourself for losing your purse to your and Ransom’s tempers.

---

“This is not my house, Ransom,” you weren’t surprised to see he only drove where he wanted to go.

“Get out, we’re having makeup sex.”

You kept your arms crossed in annoyance and didn’t move. “Wow, so romantic. Hugh Ransom Drysdale, everyone- the last true Renaissance man.”

Ransom inhaled deeply, half-amused and half-not at your dry sense of humor, “Grab your shoes or leave'em, I really don’t care. But your ass is going to be out of this car and cupped in my fucking hands within the next five minutes.”

“I am too fucking cold for these games, Hugh. Some asshole kept the air conditioner on and wouldn’t lend me a sweater. You want us to stop fighting? Fine, we’ve stopped. But we are not fucking. Now take me home.”

“We are home. Get out or I’ll move you, y/n.”

Something about Ransom’s tone made your legs flex and your knees press together. He knew it would draw a reaction from you, it always did. You sat up straighter, your core awaking at the thought of him manhandling and manipulating your body into various positions.

Smugness twisted in Ransom’s smile as he undid your seatbelt, “Look at you rubbing those thighs together, baby. You whine about going home but we both know you’re only going to end up in my bed. If we even make it that far.”

Ransom slammed the driver's door closed and came around to your side as you tried to downplay your interest and focus on your annoyance with him instead.

He opened your door and rested against it, “Out. Before I help you.”

You grabbed a high heel from the floor and pointed it at Ransom with each word, “Leave. Me. Alone.”

Ransom dove at you, grabbing you roughly out of the car, “You’re pissing me off, y/n.”

You yelped when he flung you over his broad shoulder, your stomach pressed painfully into him.

“And I have to say, I fucking like it,” Ransom smacked your ass and kicked the car door close.

The high heel abandoned on the ground as he made his way into the house with you.

He kneaded your freshly spanked cheek, only to smack it again, “Keep screaming. Make a scene. I know you’re wet and ready.”

Ransom dropped you on the bed to bounce about as he took off his sweater and dropped it behind you on the mattress. “Strip.”

Your eyes dart over Ransom’s chest and up to his eyes. You were still miffed with his attitude tonight, but when he became forceful and unpredictable like this- you couldn’t wait for the release.

Ransom kicked your knees apart and stepped one leg in between your open thighs. “I know, my girl. Fuck, I can smell my girl. Strip before I rip it off you.”

You jumped up and caught his face in your hands, crashing your lips against his. Teeth, tongue, bitten lips, all clashing over his; the desperation and hunger for it all felt more like a tactical advance than a romantic gesture.

Ransom pulled away first and chuckled darkly, “It’s always a sexual rollercoaster with you.”

His fingers snaked across the top of your sweetheart neckline and he slid two fingers underneath the material. He kept his eyes on yours as he slowly dipped his fingers up and down along your smooth skin.

Moving his fingers over your clavicle and up your neck, he laid them across your lips as you opened your mouth. Your tongue darted out, circling and wetting his fingers, anticipating him to insert his fingers in your mouth as you parted your lips more.

But he pulled away surprising you, and moved them back down to the top of your dress. Dipping his fingers between your cleavage, the cool air hit your skin along the wet trail he left.

“You’re a stubborn little tease, baby. Now, what did I tell you to do?” His hand came out from the top of your dress to grip the delicate material. Ransom jerked you close to him and bent his knee, your core hitting against his thigh as you stumbled into his chest.

Your eyes closed at the contact, your clit eager for more friction and attention. Biting your lip, you decided to change his command slightly and started undoing his belt. Ransom’s hips jolted out towards you as you tugged the leather lose. His grin widened when you tossed it on the floor and dipped your hands in his boxers.

Reaching behind you, he unzipped your dress. The tips of his fingers lingered down your spine. Ransom leaned into your neck, his teeth slowly nipped and his lips gently bruised your skin as his fingers dug into your hips. The dress pooled around your ankles, his pants followed. You stripped each other bare, a veil of soft intimacy hung around you both.

You cupped Ransom’s cheek with a soft smile, “Hi.”

A furrow started in his brow at your voice and before you had time to think, you were taken by surprise.

Ransom shoved you backwards, disliking the tenderness only you brought out in him.

Your head snapped against the mattress as your legs fell open, pussy glistening. Startled by his abruptness, you shouted out, “Asshole.”

“Oh, we’ll revisit that area again, princess- but I have something planned for you first.”

Ransom grabbed your ankles and yanked you across the bed to him. Gripping your hips, he flipped you over onto your stomach. He ignored your protests and slapped your bottom, sending a jolt through you.

Ransom’s hands ran up the back of your legs, his thumbs dipped between the apex of your wet thighs.

He moved his slick-coated thumbs along the crease of your cheeks, “Go on, keep crying wolf, baby. We both know you like it.”

His words made you involuntarily lift your ass off the bed, welcoming him to tease you more. Pulling you up to his chest, Ransom dropped his arms around the front of your waist and rocked his erection against your ass.

His lips ghosted your ear, his long fingers teased your clit, “Turn over, lay down. You’re going to like this.”

Breaking away from Ransom you dropped to all fours but didn’t refused to move further, and watched him spit and stroke himself over your shoulder.

He looked down at you, an eyebrow raised at your delay, “Fucking stubborn. Fine, I’ll make sure you love this.”

Ransom jumped at you, grabbing your shoulder and collaring your neck. He twisted you over onto your back and pressed his weight into your chest. His hold tightened around your neck and your knees fell apart inviting him closer to your core.

“So beautiful, aren’t you?” He lined himself up to your entrance. “So fucking sure of yourself,” he groaned as he felt you stretch around him. “So fucking sure-”

He pressed his fingers harder into the column of your throat as he pushed himself deeper into you, “I won’t hurt you, much.”

One of your legs hooked around his waist, both of your arms around his torso as he dragged himself in and out of you. You concentrated on your breathing and the chaotic fluttering in your core.

Every push into you, Ransom held your throat tighter; every pull away from you, he loosened his grip.

“You still cold, baby?” Ransom mocked and rolled his hips deep into you.

A mangled moan and a hard press of your heel on his ass was your reply.

“Here,” Ransom rocked back on his heels, pulling you back with him and down onto his cock with a tilt. “Let me warm you up some more.”

His knees dug into the mattress while your bottom was suspended in the air, each ass cheek in Ransom’s hands while your legs were wrapped high around his waist. He watched himself slide in and out of you, glistening. Your moans filled the room and nails bit into his forearms as you matched each other’s pace.

“Fuck.. Ransom..” You patted wildly. “Oh my god...”

He rolled his hips and snapped into you harder, arrogance and pleasure rolling off him.

Keeping himself inside you, Ransom dropped your bottom and bridged himself over you, his arms caging you under him, “Gotta get you warmer, baby.”

Without slowing his pace, he reached for the discarded sweater with one hand and looped it around your neck.

He felt your pussy clench as he made the knot. Your whimper cut off as Ransom tightened the wool sleeve around your throat.

With one hard yank on the sweater, he dove himself deeper in your pussy. Your cervix hurt but you were never wetter.

“That’s it, baby,” Ransom murmured above you, watching your reactions, all your tells, as he fucked you faster. “Fuck! Can feel you trying to milk my cock. So.. close.”

The sweater knotted in his hand as he braced his weight on his elbows. A tighter twist with a dirty roll of his hips. Your ankles locked above his ass as he slammed you over the edge.

“Right there, baby,” Ransom cupped your face, twisted the sweater tighter and roared, “RIGHT... THE... FUCK… THERE!”

Your mouth fell open and vision whitened as you shattered around him, your cunt convulsing and squeezing him. Ransom loosened the sweater and grabbed your face as he rutted into you.

His rhythm lost as he kissed your cheeks and brought you back to him, “So good, baby. My fucking girl.”

You pulled his lips to yours and swallowed his moans as he found his own release in you.

---

Ransom climbed back in bed, the sounds of your steady breathing filled the room as he nestled himself behind you. He pulled your back closer to his chest and slipped his leg between yours. Pressing his thigh against your core, he smirked feeling his dried release still staining your skin. Tomorrow morning, you would notice the ring on your finger. But by then, it would be warm on your skin and remain there. It didn’t matter to Ransom that he hadn’t asked you, you were his.

[ahgaseda]

aura | three

driving me crazy, look in my eyes, follow me, come here, dance with me now, I’m gonna make you feel like that...

summary : back again at a camp for kids that can’t behave, you are still brokenhearted over your ill-fated romance with Jaebeom, until your friend Jackson offers to help make your ex jealous in exchange for helping him land the most unattainable girl at camp.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, recurring alcohol or recreational drug use, graphic sexual content, brief mentions of illegal activities, potentially triggering elements involving toxic relationships and emotional manipulation, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

Every step down the path was slowed by dread and anxiety. The auditorium sat on a small hill, looming over the rest of the camp, and the sight made your stomach turn each time you laid eyes on it.

Such an unassuming building and yet it still shot nerves through you.

Entering through the double doors, you were blasted by air conditioning, which was a bit excessive with the crisp morning air. You simpered when you made eye contact with a few of the other campers. It was a small group, as to be expected for these little sessions.

Then, your gaze shifted to the wall where Jaebeom was leaning back and had just looked up at the sound of the door opening.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groaned, wanting to march right back out. Fate was such a cruel bitch.

Jaebeom cocked his head at your reaction, following you with his eyes, and asked sweetly, “Sleep well?”

“Yes,” you replied, curt, avoiding his stare.

Jaebeom shifted closer and whispered, “Did you think of me last night?”

If only you knew how you had filled his thoughts and dreams. Those kisses in the pool still made his heart race.

Smirking with a chance to torment him, you retorted, “Not even once. My mind is full of Jackson and how good his head looked between my thighs.”

Jaebeom frowned, the blood draining from his face. Hearing about your escapades with Jackson made him insane, like being dragged through pieces of broken glass.

“That bastard,” Jaebeom huffed under his breath.

Your arrogance faded and you turned somber. Part of you realized that you were giving yourself away to spite him. It was like trying to heal a burn by directly applying more fire.

Doctor Ambrose stepped inside, greeting everyone with her signature smile. “Good morning. Are we ready to begin?”

No one was. Not one of these poor souls wanted to discuss their daddy or mommy issues in group form. But it was mandated by the camp and having been attending for many years, you were accustomed to dodging.

You and the others followed Doctor Ambrose into the main auditorium, approaching a ring of folding chairs waiting on the stage. You swallowed the lump in your throat and avoided a look at Jaebeom as you took a seat.

This was the room where it happened - where you surrendered your virtuous flower. Blah, blah, blah, you thought to yourself. Eventually, you were going to have to come to terms with the fact you were less bitter about losing your virginity and more broken at having lost your heart.

The theater was the one place no one bothered to lock after curfew since it was solely used for group sessions and the occasional motivational speech, but if someone did remember to lock up, the door code was common knowledge. Guys went there to blaze up. Girls went to sneak drinks.

Jaebeom had brought you inside. The relationship had grown and was leading to a physical consummation of your feelings for each other. You knew exactly what would happen. After all, you had snuck out of your cabin in the middle of the night to meet a boy beneath the stars.

You let him lay you down on the stage, behind the heavy velvet curtain. Jaebeom at least had the wherewithal to put his jacket down for you to rest on.

You stole a glance of the shadow behind the curtain, not too far from where you sat, and your expression soured. You could still remember the rampant beating of your heart when Jaebeom kissed you with all he had and laid you down beneath him.

The memory raced across your mind in steady bursts. Your eyes burned at how gentle he had been with you, how loving. Jaebeom convinced you that he was madly in love and that there was a future between you and him.

And you were such a fool to believe it. You were over the moon thinking you had finally found love in the most unlikely of places. With someone you trusted. Someone you considered a friend.

Taking a deep breath, you were officially angry.

The time spent with Jackson had taken off the rose-colored glasses. You were able to see your affair with Jaebeom for what it was. And though you were still hopelessly in love with him, you were mad as hell for what he had done to you.

Doctor Ambrose called your name and began, “Let’s start with you. Why don’t you tell us the behavior that warranted your presence back at camp this year?”

You crossed your legs and sang, “Oh, where to begin, Doc? I lied. I cheated. I stole. Short of murder, my rap sheet is long.”

“You’ve been coming here for many years and you know that’s not what these sessions are about,” she chided, giving you a stern look. “Skip the bravado and get straight to the real talk.”

You narrowed your eyes. Ambrose always did hit the nail on the head. That’s why she was one of the few people at this godforsaken place that held everyone’s respect. Which was impressive in its own right since you and your fellow rich, troubled kids had very little respect for anyone.

But if Doctor Ambrose thought you were going to bear your soul to a room full of people that didn’t give a damn about you - Jaebeom included - she was sorely mistaken.

You sighed and continued, “I’m sure it’s common knowledge by now that I had a terrible lapse in judgement last summer and that lapse in judgement had a lot of unforeseen consequences.”

Jaebeom was unmoving in his seat, but his eyes were heavy on you.

Ambrose gave you her undivided attention and spoke softly, “Go on.”

You shrugged, hoping to hide just how miserably the words were coming from your mouth. “I lashed out. I cycled through all of my emotions and when they were too painful, I did something bad. Something that distracted me from how angry or hurt I was. Classic reckless human behavior.”

Her response was blunt, but genuine, “It’s called self-destructive behavior and you were punishing yourself for the pain someone else inflicted on you.”

You studied her, wanting to smack this woman across the face for defining you in a single sentence. “Forget psychiatrist,” you scoffed. “You’re a psychic.”

“I know you,” Ambrose said tenderly. “And you are not defined by your mistakes.”

You rolled your eyes, though you would love to believe that. “We all are, Doctor Ambrose,” you told her morosely. Then, your tone shifted, “Now, please take the spotlight off of me before I do something bad. Like I said, it’s what I’m known for.”

Ambrose exhaled loudly, conflicted, but decided not to push you. Turning to the next participant, she called, “Jaebeom, your turn.”

Jaebeom was still looking at you.

“Why don’t you tell us the activities that landed you back for yet another summer here?”

Jaebeom grumbled, “I’m a dick. The end.”

A few of the other attendees chortled.

“Jaebeom, everyone here knows you’re more complex than that,” Ambrose shot back.

“Am I?”

She cocked her head. “You don’t think so.”

“Ask her,” Jaebeom said, waving his hand in your direction. “Everyone knows what I did.”

You didn’t dare look at him, offering no absolution. You kept your gaze firmly rooted to Doctor Ambrose, who was now glancing between the two of you suspiciously.

Tapping her pen, Ambrose ordered, “After this group session I want to see both of you in my office.”

Your heart sank and you pleaded, “But, Doctor Ambrose…”

“Moving on,” she cut you off.

You folded your arms tightly across your chest in defiance, stiff in your seat. Jaebeom stretched out his legs and braced his arms on his thighs, keeping his head low.

Tuning out the conversations going around the circle of other campers discussing their toxic and sometimes illegal activities, you could only think about how angry you were. How it was billowing and growing inside of you until it threatened to burst.

Though Jaebeom was in the seat beside yours, he felt an entire world away. What had you done to him to deserve this? And for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t you stop loving him? If you fell in love with someone, couldn’t you ultimately fall back out?

Stealing a glance in the corner of your eye, Jaebeom looked up at that same moment and your eyes met. You looked away immediately, bitter and vengeful, but Jaebeom persisted. For someone who prided himself on being set in his ways, he couldn’t stand how you spun him on his edge.

You made him want to risk it all.

When the group session ended, Ambrose twirled the pen between her fingers and said, “I suppose we can forgo my office and just speak here.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” Jaebeom spoke up, venomous.

“I think there’s plenty,” she asserted, studying you intently. “Wanna tell me about it?”

Your eyes glistened when they met hers. You wanted to tell her she was right. That you had punished yourself for a year because you fell for a boy - the wrong boy. It was stupid. It was juvenile. And you resented yourself to hell and back for it.

“You wouldn’t understand,” you finally murmured, voice shaky.

She smiled, comforting. “Try me.”

Jaebeom could see you were about to crack. He could hear the weakness seeping into your words. Running a hand through his hair, he blurted out, “It’s my fault.”

Ambrose questioned levelly, “How so?”

“Be quiet,” you hissed.

“I fucked up,” Jaebeom confessed.

“Language,” she corrected loosely.

Jaebeom frowned. “I seduced her. I convinced her I was in love.”

“And were you?”

“No, I…,” Jaebeom trailed, like he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “I don’t know.”

You glared with nothing short of loathing at the floor.

Ambrose was putting the pieces together and she didn’t hesitate to scold, “What was your purpose, Jaebeom? What were you trying to achieve?”

Jaebeom paused a moment. Then, he finally admitted, “I was trying to get her into bed.”

Ambrose clocked a glance at you and said, “I’m assuming you succeeded.”

Your breaths came faster. Your heart was revving like the engine of Jackson’s blood red Corvette. Any minute you were going to explode.

“I went too far,” Jaebeom mulled, scratching his head. “I had never gone that far before, but I was addicted. I had no idea it would… I didn’t know she would…”

“You’re full of shit,” you snapped.

Doctor Ambrose called your name, giving you the same warning about profanity.

You leveled your scowl at Jaebeom, who had already bowed his head in submission or shame, and sneered, “I will never believe a word you say. You knew exactly what you were doing. You wanted someone to hurt as much as you hurt.”

Jaebeom still couldn’t meet your eyes. Pathetic, he thought to himself, but he couldn’t face your wrath. He couldn’t see the pain manifested on your beautiful face.

“Congratulations,” you continued, rising to your feet. “I know how you feel and I almost derailed my life because of you!”

Ambrose held out a hand amicably. “Please, sit.”

“No, I’m out of here,” you barked, gritting your teeth to keep the tears at bay. “And if you plan on physically making me stay in the same room with this asshole a minute longer, my stepfather’s attorneys would love to blow this shit wide open.”

Doctor Ambrose gave you a nod and sat back down.

Your steps echoed through the frigid silence of the auditorium and you nearly knocked the doors off their hinges when you pushed them open to escape outside.

When you had gone, Jaebeom exhaled heavily.

Ambrose looked at him. She could see the guilt weighing down his shoulders and though she didn’t want to take pity on him after what you had just revealed, compassion was a cornerstone of who she was as a person.

“Jaebeom, it goes without saying, but I’m going to say it,” Ambrose whispered for his ears only. “Breaking other people doesn’t fix you.”

Jaebeom stood to full height without another word and skulked away, hiding his teary eyes behind his long black hair.

“The nerve of that bitch! I know that she knows what happened last summer,” you vented, pacing back and forth in front of Jackson as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Everyone on the east coast knows by now. I had to hear about it for the first month of school on a daily basis!”

“I know,” Jackson replied patiently.

You tried to mimic the voices of the nosy, gossiping girls back home, “‘Can you believe she spread her legs for him? Did she really think he loved her? I thought she was smart. Turns out she’s a dumb whore like the rest of us!’”

Jackson grimaced. He remembered that morning, when you told him you slept with Jaebeom. You were so happy, so sure of what you wanted. And he knew it was going to unravel, leaving you holding all the pieces. “No one said that.”

“Everyone said that, Jacks! Admit it,” you yelled.

Of course, they did. Jackson had never threatened so many people in his life. Jackson had a lot of friends, but he only had one best friend. Whenever they spoke of you and Jaebeom, it made his skin crawl. Made his fists clench on instinct.

He was supposed to protect you.

Jackson rose from the bed, grasping your arms and staring you in the face. “Who cares what other people say? I sure as shit don’t!”

You cast your gaze down, shifting from angry to sad. “And he really sat there acting like he didn’t think I would take it so personally,” you whispered, trembling.

Jackson gathered you in his arms, squeezing tight. “He’s an idiot. It is known,” he quipped dryly.

You pulled back and sighed, “Maybe we should just fuck.”

Jackson frowned, but quickly hid his disappointment with a swift, “I’m not in the mood.”

You quirked a brow. “Seriously?”

Jackson released you and teased, “Yeah, I’m not a faucet.”

You let a smirk play at your lips and reached for his belt. “What if I…”

Jackson grabbed your wrists and chided you so sternly you almost faltered, “Listen. You are more than sex. You understand me?”

There were very few occasions Jackson reprimanded you and he always snared your full attention when it happened. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you murmured, “...Okay.”

Jackson simpered. “You don’t need to fuck. You need a hug.”

You chuckled, squeaking in surprise when he pulled you to his chest faster than you thought possible. You smiled, burying your face against his neck as he enveloped you in his embrace.

It was exactly what you needed.

You set your hands to his shoulders, feeling burly muscles underneath. Jackson always radiated heat and energy, and you were content to let him hold you forever. Jackson was warmth and safety.

He was home.

After a moment, you blurted to alleviate the tension, “Can we go get food?”

Jackson exclaimed, “I thought you’d never ask.”

The two of you walked arm in arm to the mess hall. It had been ungodly, the hour you woke to attend your group therapy session, but it meant you were starving for breakfast and the smell that hit your nose when you entered the dining room made you salivate on the spot.

Approaching the line, Jackson said, “Damn it. I forgot to tell you I’m sitting with Yeona today.”

“Oh,” you replied, remembering you didn’t get a chance to talk to him much after you had pounced on him. “I take it everything went well last night.”

“Yeah, we hit it off. I’m laying the groundwork.”

You rolled your eyes. Part of you was rooting in Yeona’s corner, that she stick to her guns and save herself for someone who loved her. The other part felt guilty as hell for being part of the same scheme that destroyed you last summer.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you told him, “I think I want some alone time to myself anyway. I’ll sit in the corner.”

Jackson eyed you worriedly. “Are you sure? I can totally blow her off.”

“Positive,” you insisted, beaming at the gesture. “Go with Yeona. You two would make a really cute couple.”

“Ha. Ha,” said Jackson in mock laughter.

Together you got your food and then parted in the aisleway. Yeona smiled when Jackson joined her by the window and you vaguely wished happiness for them. Jackson wasn’t like Jaebeom. 

Maybe Yeona would be good for Jackson. She could help him work through his commitment issues. You had seen firsthand what his parents’ marriage had done to him. It was no surprise he broke off relationships as soon as they started to become serious.

Taking the empty table in the corner, you backed against the wall. Pulling a magazine out of your purse, you placed it next to your tray and opened to a random page, biting into your toasted bagel.

Jaebeom leaned against the adjacent door frame, hands in his pockets. He was sporting his trademarked leather jacket and his hair had strayed into his eyes while watching you.

He was at war with himself over what to say.

First and foremost he wanted to apologize, but Lim Jaebeom had way too much pride for that. Secondly, he considered offering you a better deal than whatever Jackson was giving you, but given your furor at the group session, Jaebeom knew better than to stoke your wrath again.

Jaebeom thought of all those times last summer when he caught himself staring at you. How could someone so beautiful and amazing be interested in the likes of him? You were confident and fearless, a little rough around the edges with a heart of gold. You were everything he aspired to be and you brought out the best in him without even knowing it.

By then, Jaebeom was in too deep. He could feel himself falling for you and he forbade himself from ever putting his heart on the line. And so he cut you loose.

Jaebeom remembered your face when he spoke those words. I never loved you. The joy left your face. The light fled your eyes. With four words, he had broken someone completely and it kept him awake at night.

Sex was a release for him. No more, no less. Jaebeom could fuck a girl and never see her again afterward, and it wouldn’t bother him for a second. After her - the woman that loved and left him - Jaebeom didn’t attach sex with emotion and certainly not intimacy or commitment.

Then, he had you. Suddenly, he wanted to wake up to you in the morning. He wanted to fall asleep in your arms every night. He didn’t fuck you… he made love to you. He felt passion for the first time in a long time. When it was over, he didn’t want to leave like he had always done. And that scared the shit out of him.

Jaebeom realized you had begun to heal him and he panicked.

Even now, Jaebeom wanted you back. He needed another chance. His first instinct was always to run when he felt emotions he didn’t understand, but he could fight back this time. He could change for you, couldn’t he?

When Jaebeom slid into the seat beside you, you weren’t the least bit surprised.

“What are you reading?” he asked nonchalantly, picking up the magazine and fanning the pages.

“Chick magazine,” you deadpanned. “There’s an article in there on Ten Ways to Achieve Female Orgasm. You should read it.”

Another snide jab at his bedroom skills. Jaebeom wrinkled his nose, but rebuffed you, “I only got one round with you. How do you know I couldn’t give you the best loving of your life?”

It was a provocative thought. You felt your heart stutter a little, but your mind was fully in control now, and you shot back, “Because I don’t think you know what love is.”

Jaebeom met your eyes and this time, you didn’t back down. “You know what I meant,” he huffed.

“So, I’m a mind reader now? Good to know,” you retorted, acerbic.

Jaebeom turned to you, leaning in and whispering, “Tonight. After curfew. Sneak out with me.”

You shook your head, mouth full of food. Swallowing, you told him coolly, “I have a regularly scheduled dick appointment with Jackson.”

“Cancel it,” Jaebeom said, appearing unaffected though it made him want to destroy Jackson a thousand times over. “I’ll have some wine. We can go to the lookout. You know, like old times.”

You scowled at him and yet, you wanted nothing more than to go back to those old times. Before you were stupid. Before you fell in love with him.

“Give me one good reason,” you hissed, taking a sip of your orange juice.

Jaebeom shifted, like the words pained him. More from pride than anything else. “I just want to talk to you. I miss you. As a friend.”

You didn’t say anything, but you shuffled your attention between him and Jackson. The latter was making Yeona laugh heartily and you felt a twinge of jealousy. Not from a place of malice, but a protectiveness over your best friend.

Jackson would tell you not to. He would tell Jaebeom to take a fucking hike.

Angling back to Jaebeom, you warned, “If you so much as grab my boob, I will kick you in the balls and leave you there.”

Jaebeom smiled, but quickly fought it. “That’s fair.”

“What time?”

“Eleven.”

You nodded. “Okay, I’ll meet you at the spot.”

Jaebeom rose and you were sad to see him go, but he added, “Nah, I will come to your cabin and get you. I don’t want you walking at night alone.”

You rolled your eyes. “Chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

Jackson stitched his brows, having listened to you recount the exchange to him back at his cabin.

“Of course, chivalry is dead,” your best friend exclaimed incredulously. “He killed it.”

“Jacks, please,” you whined. “He just wants to talk.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Jackson countered firmly and he looked a heartbeat away from combusting. “He hates that you’re sleeping with me. It’s jealousy. Plain and simple.”

You propped your hands on your hips, frustrated from arguing with him. “Wasn’t that the plan? To make him come after me again?”

Jackson remembered what had started all of this in the first place and he changed his tune. “Right, yeah, but this is just going the same route as last summer. You see that, right?”

“No, it’s not. I’m wiser now.”

Jackson approached briskly, taking you in his arms and roaming his hands around your waist. “You could just stay here with me,” he coaxed, voice a low growl. “I can eat that pussy like it’s my last meal.”

You snorted a laugh, but slipped out of his arms. “Nice try, but you were right. I’m more than just sex and I need to see where his head is at.”

Jackson sighed in defeat.

“Don’t wait up for me tonight,” you called back to him as you slipped through the door.

Jackson watched you go and stood rooted in place. Fuck, he was conflicted. Every instinct he had told him to stop you, but how could he? What right did he have to you in the first place?

He was just the guy you fucked to get back at another guy.

Jackson exhaled loudly through his nose. He could feel himself slipping, losing his nerve. Even when he sat with Yeona, making her smile and laugh, and noticing she leaned into his touches, his eyes still wandered to you. And when Jaebeom had appeared by your side, Jackson could feel his heart sinking into the bottom of his stomach.

Jackson reminded himself of the deal. He would get Yeona and you would get Jaebeom. That was it. Those were the terms you both agreed on and thus far, everything was going quite smoothly.

But Jackson was thinking of you and now he was thinking of Jaebeom touching you. And it made him want to die.

The day passed by at a glacial pace. By the time night fell, you began the long, arduous process of doing your hair and makeup. When there was a knock at the door, you had to stop yourself from sprinting across the room to answer.

Instead, you made his ass wait.

“Hey,” you greeted, stepping through and shutting the door behind you a moment later.

“Hey,” Jaebeom replied, scanning you over. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, noting the backpack slung over his shoulder. “What you got back there?”

“None of your business,” he teased. “Ready to go?”

You pursed your lips, watching Jaebeom turn and stride away, expecting you to follow. Which, of course, you did.

The lookout was a small patch of open field between the trees. It was the perfect spot for stargazing and late night makeout sessions. You and Jaebeom had spent many hours in this place. As did you and Jackson.

It was a place of clarity and self-reflection. Something about seeing the stars so clearly, away from the noise and smog of the city, made you feel a sense of belonging. That everything would be okay. Sooner or later.

Jaebeom dropped his backpack and began rifling through it. Reading your mind, he called, “Don’t sit yet.”

You were about to complain, but then he stood and fanned out a red flannel blanket, smoothing out the corners over the grass.

“Now, you can sit.”

You almost chuckled, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Plopping down, you overlapped your ankles and watched him take the spot beside you.

“Wow, this is actually romantic,” you smarted, monotonous.

Jaebeom popped open the bottle of wine and took a swig. “I’m full of surprises,” he quipped, handing you the bottle.

A bit perturbed he had neglected to bring separate glasses, you took a sip and countered bitterly, “Not really. I remember all the romantic gestures and sweet words of last summer.”

Jaebeom sighed. So did he.

He had taken something so precious and innocent and filled it with poison. Jaebeom could have walked away at any point. And even worse, when all was said and done, he could have stayed.

There was a lull of silence and you didn’t mind. Jaebeom studied the stars, feigning interest. You turned your head, looking at his profile alight with the glow of the moon.

“Jaebeom, why did you bring me here?”

Jaebeom swallowed and whispered, “I hate myself for what I did to you.”

You frowned. “And what about all the other girls?”

Jaebeom shook his head, remorseful only for you. “They weren’t naive. They weren’t inexperienced,” he explained, somber. “They weren’t my friends. They weren’t you.”

You narrowed your eyes. The anger was pooling in your belly again. And your next question was scathing, “So, what sets me apart is that you hurt me the most?”

“Yes,” Jaebeom said, feeling small. “And you didn’t deserve it.”

You cried, “Why me?”

“You were the holy grail. Every guy wanted you.”

Biting back tears, you whimpered, “You talk about me like I’m not a person.”

Jaebeom realized that and he looked away, mulling over if he could put his feelings into words for once. “Would you believe me if I said that looking back I meant the things I said to you - that I loved every moment we spent together last summer?”

You thought about it for a moment and then you answered, “No. It’s what I’ve wanted you to say and yet. . . I don’t believe you. Everything you said and did was the means to an end.”

Jaebeom didn’t deny it. “I thought so, too. But when I got home, you were all I could think about. I wanted to see you and hold you. I missed having you in my life.”

The tears were flowing freely now and you turned your head away.

Jaebeom came closer, cupping your cheek and wiping the tears with his thumb.

You sobbed, “Why did you do this?”

“Shh, baby,” he whispered under his breath.

“You hate yourself for hurting me. I hate myself for loving you.”

Jaebeom felt like a gaping open wound, one that refused to heal. And yet your pain surpassed his own. He would rather writhe in misery than see you crying in his arms. Knowing that he had driven you this far.

“You were right,” he choked out. “I wanted you to know hurt the way I did. I envied you. You never let anyone get to you. I thought in some twisted way I wouldn’t be alone and I could finally move past what happened to me.”

You could feel yourself falling for it again and you lowered your head.

“I’m sorry,” Jaebeom finally said.

Those words you had wanted for so long and they did nothing for you. They didn’t fix you. They didn’t numb the pain. They didn’t restore what had been taken.

You pushed his arms away and got to your feet, wiping the tears with the back of your hand. Stomping toward the gravel path, Jaebeom was hot on your heels, calling your name.

When he grabbed your arms and spun you back around to face him, you yelled, “Let me go, Jaebeom.”

“Tell me what to do,” he pleaded. “Tell me what you need me to do!”

“Break this fucking spell,” you shouted back at him. “Make me hate you. Because I love you and it’s killing me!”

That was the last thing Jaebeom wanted. He was consumed by you. There were those words again and Jaebeom couldn’t stand it. No one had ever loved him, much less fallen in love with him, and he didn’t know what to do.

So, he gathered you in his arms and melded his lips to yours. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back hard, carding your fingers into his hair.

Jaebeom held your waist and hips snugly, trapping you to him. You pressed yourself to his chest and tugged on his hair, earning a groan. You slipped your tongue past his lips and Jaebeom made a noise at your aggression. He could taste the salt of your tears.

This was stupid, you thought to yourself. You just never learned, did you? But God, kissing him was amazing. You let your hands fall from his head to roam his shoulders, pressing your nails into his shirt. You felt so small in his arms, like you were lost in him.

Jaebeom began to move, steering you with him back toward the blanket, still kissing you like his life depended on it. You weren’t surprised when he lay you down, but Jaebeom was beyond surprised when you wrestled him to his back and straddled his hips.

You wanted to grin at the shocked expression he was sporting, but you only caught a brief glimpse of his widened eyes before smashing your lips back on his.

You just wanted to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until you were satisfied, satiated. Maybe then you could finally get on with your life. It was senseless logic, but all you knew was he kissed so fucking good. It made you crazy. Just like everything else about him.

For fuck’s sake, you would never understand why you were in love with the one thing determined to destroy you.

“Stop. Stop,” you suddenly told him, panting and breathless.

Jaebeom looked at your hand pressed to his chest, watching you sit up on top of him, and his heart sank. He knew that look. You were about to bolt.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, more to yourself as you brushed your hair out of your face with your fingers.

Jaebeom stroked his palms up your thighs, clad in the tightest jeans he had ever seen, and coaxed, “Why?”

You blinked, thinking of an answer. There were many, but you were trying to invalidate them on the spot.

Jaebeom sat up, wrapping an arm around your hips and rocking you closer to him. “Tell me,” he mumbled, pressing a wet kiss to your neck.

Your eyes fluttered and you felt resolve melting away each time his lips touched over your racing pulse.

“You’ll leave me again,” you cried shakily.

Jaebeom shook his head, proceeding to suck beneath your ear. “I’m not going anywhere,” he growled.

You ran your hands through his hair, hips arching ever so slightly in search of friction. Your body was heating up, excitement pulsing through your veins. You craved him. Lust was a powerful thing, and now you truly understood.

“I am,” you said firmly, pushing him back with both hands and rising to your feet.

Jaebeom slumped back, disappointed and defeated, and shook his hair out of his eyes. Watching you walk away, he begged, “Please stop sleeping with Jackson.”

You turned to face him, lips parting incredulously.

Seeing your anger, he lowered his tone to something more pliant, but definitely snide. “Give me a chance to make things right before you let him get his claws in you.”

It only confirmed what Jackson had said. Jaebeom’s newfound pursuit of you was solely from a place of jealousy. Your best friend had been right and you were too blind to accept it.

“You really are the worst,” you snapped at him, heading back on your way.

Jaebeom shouted vengefully, “He doesn’t fucking deserve you!”

You kept walking and retorted with disdain, “Story of my life, it seems. I guess I only fuck guys that don’t deserve me.”

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[bills-blog-now]

Guys, I just had the most craziest dream involving Ford and Bill. I wish I could remember every detail. 

I’ll just start from the middle, since I don’t recall any further than that.

Ford was in a bar on Earth, using some weird alien technology to disguise himself as a woman who looks nothing like him. He was watching a television built into the wall. On the screen was Bill (who was taking control of a brunette human woman) and he was talking about some sort of thing which involved some sort of social movement (I wish I could recall the specifics).

Stanford was seething, knowing full well that the movement was a disguise for Bill’s plan to get to his Earth.

The oblivious bartender was chatting it up with Ford and being all flirty. Ford ordered a gin and tonic, and the bartender noticed that Ford was watching the TV. As the bartender served the drink, he spoke of how the social movement was an incredible thing and how they should toast to it.

Bitter as Ford is, he agreed to the toast and downed the drink. He then moved to leave to the confusion of the bartender (he had payed for the drink beforehand, don’t worry). The bartender called out, and Ford replied with a vicious smirk and a sarcastic remark, about the social movement and the bartender all in one sentence. He swiftly left, not caring for the bartender’s reaction.

It was night outside, though there was a big event caused by the social movement going on so people littered the streets. Ford went behind a sign that would sufficiently cover him and dropped his disguise. He was an old man, but the hatred for Bill burned bright in his heart, and of course, on his face as well.

There were 4 big bags being guarded by 3 men, and Ford walked over to them. He asked if the supplies were still in good condition. The men nodded. Ford nods back, and each of them pick up a bag. The head off to the center of the big movement, looking as inconspicuous as 4 men in cloaks with huge rucksacks can be. They moved with confidence, so nobody questioned them.

They make it to the gathering of well over 5,000 people, history in the making as Bill Cipher (in the same human disguise, of course), leader of the social movement is meeting with the president of America to enact new laws which would do... something. I think it had to do with encouraging women to become scientists? Some sort of beneficial thing with helping women be equal with men. And also become scientists.

So the 4 men just casually stroll up to the podium and Ford lowers the head of his cloak and pushes the president out of the way and just takes starts prattling his own speech. About how the whole social movement is a sham and everybody is being fooled. His speech gets slurred as the alcoholic drink he had earlier takes its effect, and as Stanford has never drank alcohol before, is an incredible lightweight.

Bill knowing exactly what is happening sneaks into the shadows and books it out of there.

The 3 other men had meanwhile opened up their bags and pulled out advanced guns, ones capable of shooting out hundreds of rounds without needing to be reloaded. They aim the guns at the guards and anybody else who tried to get in Stanford’s way.

Ford pulls out his own gun as the president tries to take their mike back from the drunk crazy person. Ford aims it at the presidents head and then at anybody else as a method of making them back up.

Ford talks near endlessly, sounding like a drunken misogynistic conspiracy nut, what with the woman in charge of the movement is really being controlled by an male alien hellbent on taking over not just the world, but the entire 3rd dimension.

The 3 men are starting to worry about Ford and how drunk he sounds. The president decides that Ford’s gun ain’t even real cause just look at that doohickey, it looks like a painted Nerf gun. So he aggressively tries to take back the podium from the drunk and Ford frickin’ shoots him in the guts. With several rounds. That man dies.

Everybody starts to panic, and in his brilliant drunk mind, to prove he’s dead serious Ford shoots into the crowd of innocent people?? And more people die.

The 3 men start panicking as well, because this was NOT part of the plan. So they charge Ford at the podium and drag him off the stage. He’s dragged into a nearby getaway car, and they drive, the tires screech like a bat out of hell.

The 3 men are still panicking, and Ford doesn’t see anything wrong with what he just did. He tries to explain, about how the alcohol made him do it and just keeps trying to convince them but it’s not working out. The repression of the past 30 years just keeps pouring out of him, about how he summoned Bill into the body of a female body and Bill tricked him and the had a romantic relationship that resulted in a child and the 3 men are like yes we know, shut the fuck up. But he keeps trying to convince them and nobody says anything anymore. He doesn’t catch any hint the men are throwing at him and all he feels is deep tired resentment starting to pour into his chest from the 3 men who just aren’t listening.

Everybody is really stressed out and angry at the fact that their faces are now attributed to this crazy man who was once their friend, and now they can’t have peaceful public lives anymore without the law breathing down their backs about the murders. They figured they would become heroes, ones who saved the world along with the great Stanford Pines, but now they all wish they could go back in time.

The car stops, pulled aside into an empty lot by the driver, and all of the 3 men come to push Ford out of the car. The 3 men discuss among themselves what they should do about the issue while Ford tries to interject, but to no luck. 2 of the men ask the third his final opinion, as he’s Stanford’s son. He agrees without much hesitation and they all line up to kill Stanford, as he’s a liability and who knows what the fuck he’ll do next just to get back at Bill Cipher.

Stanford, knowing what’s about to happen, activates an insidious trump card. Before they can shoot his body dead, he activates some sort of advanced technology and his soul projects itself outside of his body and into his son’s. He steals the body of his son and he stumbles a bit, but the damage of it all is already done. Ford’s old body is dead while his much stronger soul takes the place as head soul of his son’s body, leaving his son to become a bystander in his own body.

Ford’s still insane cause he tries to tell the others that they must complete the plan otherwise Bill will take over the world. But before he can get more than a few words out, a bright shining light appears overhead and the 2 other men are killed.

Turns out there’s an alien spaceship over the head of the planet that can disguise itself as not being there and it’s controlled by Bill. Bill was following their movements and murdered the 2 men, and he started beaming up his son.

He was there in his female human body, all hugs and reassurances that all the pain he’s felt is over now.

Of course, this wasn’t his son, it was Ford.

So Ford takes his son’s gun and shoots at Bill’s throat. Turns out whatever he shot was nonlethal however, and seeing that Ford’s “son” attacked Bill, the guards on the ship tried to get to him and hold him back. Ford switches the gun back to lethal and kills the guards.

Once Bill gets over his shock, wonders what the hell’s happening and then I woke up.

I really wanted to see the end of that dream, but my alarm got me up.

Want to know the really funny part about this dream though? It was pretty clear that most of this was from Ford’s point of view, and it wasn’t clear at all if it was actually Bill’s intention to take over the 3rd dimension or even the world.

[almasidaliano]

“listen to your thoughts”

shout out to the god beings not only nurturing their god genes; also spreading truth and knowledge to the youth ‘bout what it all means. i got pulled away, i still exist within a hectic day to day however this seed simply must be spread.

here it is my two cents; listen with an open mind and then you decide what your inner truth is.

every definition society has written about what it means to be successful, accepted, even morally good are just distractions you can’t “visualize” because they’re ingrained in the way you conceptualize. i know that sounds strange, you see the things they don’t say, and/or label “fiction/fake/stay away” are answers to questions they don’t want to explain. they (& who the fuck is they anyway? they make your hell comfortable, so you found - contentment? and caved. so as their dreams went from pictures to reality, we?- scribbled on our paintings and took our place within this insanity? perpetuating stereotypes, ALL THE -ISMS, inequality, and innocent victims steadily die, because their hatred stained our minds. i’ll tell you a secret “power lies in the compliance.” the natives of this land, were too “peaceful” at the time to keep it. who the fuck is anyone to tell you who to be? or who you are? or what it is that you deserve? who is anyone to condemn you or even idolize your worth? NOBODY IS SUPERIOR DUMMIES. if you here, we all chosen in this realm for something. we are all one. you can’t be better at being me than me, and vice versa. your dreams are yours. YOUR CONFIDENCE, your DREAMS, YOUR VOICE, YOUR CHOICES- they are YOURS ALONE. when you enter this world you have to trust your senses as a baby, because you don’t naturally understand this language; or at least how to verbally communicate with it.

pop quiz : what’s society’s favorite thing to do to the youth?

answer? CRUSH THEIR DREAMS, teach them “discipline” and “obedience”. navigate their paths so they are fit their labels and view the rest of the world like that.

minorities are the majority. no one talks about that tho. the physiques of our black queens, they couldn’t copy to a T. so they redrew “beauty” so we wouldn’t fit the definition. colorism further dividing the unity we existed in. cause there’s this crazy misconception that “light skins” have it best; except we don’t cause in the end they treat us just like they treat them. the only difference is, we were their jestures, their entertainment. our humiliation satisfies them, something dangerous. we’re the guinea pigs, we’re the bastards, we’re the “mistakes” that weren’t mistakes until you saw our pigmentation. our thick curly hair and the magic we contain. envy beloveds, is a terrible thing. and reflections we love to to condemning the aggressors; it’s 2021 at this point are we any better? all this turmoils make y’all bitter. y’all keep telling them to change. they want y’all to fight so they can keep doing the same things. keep making you the villain, and taking your humanity away. change your ideology about everything. look into everything. take what hits, resonates and fits your ideal existence. if you believe in magic, you can do anything be persistent.

be original. be weird, it means authentic and eccentric. they coated their amazement with a tone of isolation, this cold negative connotation. don’t speak out, don’t stand out, they wanted to keep us caged in. athletes don’t have to dumb, nerds aren’t awkward at all, everyone can be friends, just takes a little respect that’s all. fuck your parents. fuck their ideas and their wants for you. if you want for you, why live your life based off of others? you owe no one anything. if you take advice and things go wrong, whose fault is it?

yours. why? because they ADVISED, can’t a soul make you do shit in this life. so only do what you want to, you’ll find more fulfillment, or at the least a lesson in growth. because no matter who you tryna please, the weight is all your own. so why not let it be your own?

money is nothing, if your times truly valuable. you shouldn’t do shit for money, cause you’ll hate the conditions of your routine environment that constricts your growth and then you can wilt away entirely. wealth and fortune are obtained by the bold, whether heinous or innovation it’s the risk the passion behind a dream one can’t not indulge in. if you wouldn’t die for what you’re doing, for how you’re living change that shit.

if being you makes people you thought you had leave, thank your ancestors and guides for the cleansing of your space. you have to love you like you love whatever you believe in. if your creator made you as you are, why you letting someone who has no idea what your purpose is, deter your focus?

ever heard of body dysmorphia ? they got society in a soul purpose dysmorphia. got warriors, philosophers, healers, teachers, leaders, builders, hunters, farmers etc., “magic” capabilities they got you convinced are just make believe, yet so a man thinketh so is he. you still w me? so look, maybe it’s hard, maybe it’s on the side of the unpopular opinion. matching energy ain’t what’s in, maintain your shit and balance will align with it. CONFIDENCE CONFIDENCE CONFIDENCE. away with putting ourselves down, self criticism is not self bashing.

really it’s the influence the outside seems to have on people. i got beat on and bullied because i’m a nerd an athlete and i’m pretty. i don’t “condemned” for disagreeing with certain interpretations and meanings within religion because they contradicted the things “followers” were being. in the end, i defended myself by any means, even got the congregation viewing the world like little ole me, i saved and kept saving the souls shelled up in the “outcasts” the “rebels”. even some souls in the pawns tainted and evil. because when i speak, you feel my meaning. i’m the poster child for every ounce of “difference” they’re trying to label “abomination” now, and still somehow i’m America’s favorite flower child. i am the voice for the weak, and the scared, and those who still don’t have courage to share, for those who think nobody cares; maybe they don’t, sometimes they will and sometimes they won’t, for those who feel nothing but anger, just rage; for the wanderers who don’t know whether they can effect change. you can do anything, YOU WANT TO DO. people die for no reason, they die with regret, they die after a life they never truly lived. honestly, for god sakes people just fucking live. as you see fit, make mistakes learn from them. network and connect with neighbors. don’t hate ignorant strangers.

create a force field for yourself, meditate and visualize the energy around you. keep all negativity and leeching energy away. remind yourself you are as you are perfection. everyday. and then just be okay?

a.

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

Oh would you look at that! The insane level of reblogging that my chronic pain post is getting has reminded me of yet ANOTHER aspect of the culture within the chronic illness community that I cannot abide or support. 

Let’s examine this, shall we?

Within the last day or so, someone reblogged it and added the hashtag “fuck doctors”. hm... Let’s talk about why that’s not ok at all, shall we?

Now, this isn’t an isolated incident. I actually see that sentiment a lot, often paired with “you know your body best” and often coming from so-called “self diagnosed” people who spout off about knowing more than doctors. 

First off, just to get this out of the way, self diagnosis is not valid. I’ve said it before and I will say it until the day I fucking die; it’s absolutely ok and encouraged to do some research as to possible causes of your symptoms, it’s ok and encouraged for you to advocate for yourself and to bring them up to your doctor to see if they feel the overall symptoms fit that diagnosis. It’s ok and encouraged to seek a second opinion if you feel necessary. 

HOWEVER it is not ok to doctor hop again and again until you find one who tells you what you want to hear. It isn’t ok to claim you have a condition that a medical professional hasn’t diagnosed you with. You can say “oh I think I may have this, but I need to bring it up with my doctor to see what they think.” You do not know more than your doctor. While you may suspect you have something based on your symptoms and a google search, your doctors have been to med school (hence them being a doctor and you not being one) so there are definitely things either within your symptoms or within the diagnosis that you don’t really know about or understand that make it a poor fit. 

Yes, occasionally you will bump into a doctor who is a prick that doesn’t listen to patients at all. BUT if every single doctor you see is ‘mean’ or ‘not listening’ or ‘a bully’ then you need to take a step back and take a look at what you are doing. There’s a saying that applicable here: It’s common to meet an asshole from time to time, but if everyone you meet is an asshole, then it’s more likely that you are the problem/asshole. That also applies to doctors. 

“omg Dr. Morrisey, get to the fucking point, yo.”

I feel you. I’m long winded. sorry about that. 

So the chronic illness community at large has fostered an attitude and stance the last few years or so that if a doctor doesn’t agree with you or give you what you want, they are horrible and mean. Typing that out or saying it out loud, it sounds like a very spoiled child, right? Yeah. In the same vein, there’s been an attitude that has sprouted and taken root from that, which is the ‘fuck doctors’ thing. It’s basically fostering a blanket distrust and dislike of medical professionals, which is incredibly dangerous. 

I understand how frustrating it can be to be undiagnosed and not know what is happening to your body, to just want a name for it so you at least know what you’re up against. As someone who didn’t get diagnosed until she was 31 despite glaring, lifelong symptoms, I get it. But that doesn’t make it ok to self diagnose or distrust and discredit medical professionals, most of whom are just trying to help. They usually want to get to the bottom of things just as much as you do. They became doctors to help people become healthy or at least mitigate the impact of their condition via various types of symptom management. 

Chronically ill people (and really people in general) need to keep in mind that information within the field of medicine is constantly changing, evolving, being added to. As more conditions are discovered and more information about currently known conditions and how to treat them is discovered via research and clinical trials, the more new information doctors have to learn. And the field of medicine in general moves forward so rapidly that there is no conceivable way for every doctor or medical professional to keep up. I think that as long as they are willing to learn new things, even if only as they come up, then they are doing fantastic. 

Let’s talk about a real world example, shall we? 

I have vascular ehlers danlos syndrome. It’s a fairly uncommon and serious subtype of the ehlers danlos family of conditions. When my rheumatologist gave me a clinical diagnosis of just ‘ehlers danlos’ while we awaited my genetic testing appointment, I went in to my general doctor to update her. She said, “Well, I don’t know much about EDS, but I will do some research to get us through until we find out for sure which type you have, then I will dig into that one, too.” My cardiologist was the same way and when I came into my first appointment after notifying them of my official diagnosis (post genetic test), he was visibly excited because he found the research about it to be really interesting and he wouldn’t have ever done research about it had I not been his patient. 

My point in this example is that doctors are people, too, and cannot be reasonably expected to have all knowledge of every condition ever, especially with the rate at which new information is discovered in their fields, how quickly advances are made. Think about it. Would it be reasonable for you to know every single thing about whatever field you are in? No because that wouldn’t be a reasonable expectation for any human being. What is expected is a willingness to listen, observe, and learn on the doctors part and a willingness to listen, adequately and realistically communicate, and follow your treatment plan is expected of you as a patient. 

This whole movement of demonizing medical professionals and nurturing a distrust in them has to stop. This weird culture of thinking that your google search overrides their medical degree has to stop. 

I mean, shit, I’m betting a lot of the chronic illness community who does that last bit were rolling their eyes, shocked, or just plain livid at all the people during this Covid pandemic who claimed their google research was more valid than the medical professionals at the CDC, WHO, and various governments’ agencies. 

Yep. When you run around your chronic illness blog or group claiming that your research & life in your body is more valid than the experience, education, and conclusions of your licensed medical professional, you sound JUST LIKE the people who during the pandemic have claimed that what the CDC and WHO say is wrong and needing masks is a lie because they “did their ReSeArCh” via facebook or google. 

So, stop acting like a covid denier or anti masker. stop nurturing this hate and distrust of doctors who more often than not are just trying to help. Yeah, they may tell you stuff you don’t want to hear or disagree with, but the fact is that at the end of the day, they literally went to school for AGES specifically for this. No amount of google searches or living in a body is going to outweigh that. 

If it did, we’d all be fucking doctors. 

[gofancyninjaworld]

Meta: What rough beast slouches to be born?

Right, webcomic chapter 125 has raised quite a few questions about cyborgs and I purposely left it aside. Until now.  I’m sorry for the length, but I’m only allowed one ‘readmore’. :(

What we knew

Many moons ago for us, 9 or so weeks ago for them, Genos showed up at Saitama’s doorstep like a refugee from another world, telling a tale of destroyed towns, rampaging cyborgs, and desperate revenge quests.   It’s seemed rather far-fetched, particularly as not much has happened on that front.   Over the course of the story, we’ve had little bits of independent corroboration about the veracity of his story.  The town that he was born in was definitely erased from the map.  Yes, a cyborg is wanted in connection with the incident. 

But where is that guy? Does it have anything to do with the powered suit-flogging cyborgs seen early on the series? Does it have anything to do with the ‘glimpse behind the scenes’ chapter the manga offered us with Drive Knight (but no context as to how that glimpse fitted into the wider story)?  Come to that, where are all the cyborgs?

To start with, there are a lot of cyborgs of various sorts in OPM.  Quite a few moons ago, I wrote a bit about them, drawing a distinction between those who used parts to replace lost function and those who looked at it as a change of identity: “Is the Organization a Claw Analogue?”

 Chapter 125 has been surprisingly good about confirming some of what I surmised about cyborgs, but it’s brought some very good additional information!  On we go!

There are cyborgs; and then there are Cyborgs

Our ambassador through the world of cyborgs is new Neo Hero recruit Koko (Solitude), who modified his body for the world of cyborg fighting, only he was a little too successful and no one would bet on him.  We see him scanning various people and passing commentary on them.

The first to give him serious pause is Webigaza, who lost six months of life to getting her body modifications done -- no wonder she’s pissed off that her rival has self-destructed in the interim.

Koko is shaken by her having 71% of her body modified.

obsessive determination is terrifying to look at

Percentage body modification of the sort Koko is used to seeing, 30% maximum, you can do right here right here and now.  It’s equivalent to losing a leg and most of the other. Here and now, we can also do brain implants to control tremors or fits or some neurological conditions,  replace part of the heart, spine fusions, quite a few bits and pieces.  The sort of modifications Koko is used to seeing are very functional ones that make sense for someone looking to get an edge in fighting for money.  They’re also along the lines of what we’ve seen with One-Shotter or Death Gatling.

If you lose and replace all four limbs, that's 50% of your body modified. While quadruple amputees unfortunately exist IRL,  I don’t know if anyone has had the kind of money, physical fitness and pure grit to do that.  Nevertheless it’s not technically impossible. 60% sounds about right before you're now looking at breaking into the more vital parts of your body.  The point at which the risk involved just can't be justified in terms of restoring function or health. I’m emphasising that because I’m going to come back to this point.   He’s shaken because modifications that extensive aren’t about simply gaining an edge; they’re being willing to exchange serious bodily harm for serious power.  It says a lot about who Webigaza is.

Within the Hero Association, I think we do know a hero round about that 60% mark.  Jet Nice Guy comes to mind.  He sports an armored exterior, powerful artificial limbs (which will need internal reinforcement to not just rip up his body), but his innards are all human. After the way he started to bleed out after Nyan slashed him, I realised that the reason it looked like intestines when the Deep Sea King ripped him open is because they were... >.<  Sorry, dude. 

the worst of both worlds -- too modified to have an easy life, still too weak to deal with the real monsters that exist

Scary enough, but then the security staff come in to stop the kerfuffle that Koko and his buddy, Mars Leo, were causing.  Koko scanned them and was stunned into horror:

as disciplined and ruthless a pair of killers as you could never hope to lay eyes on.  Definitely not frothing at the mouth, these two!

These two have modified themselves so extensively they’re almost inhuman. 94, 95% body modification is equivalent to having only 3.5 - 4.2 kg of live mass left assuming an original live mass of 70 kg.  And, if the similar naming convention didn’t tip you off to it, it’s around the sort of hyper-extensive modification we see Genos having. [See under the readmore for a first-principles estimation I did a long time ago.]  Maybe Drive Knight too if he’s a cyborg.   What kind of power have they exchanged their human bodies for?  What kind of people are willing to do that to themselves? Koko is very sure that he does NOT want to know.

When he tells you who he is, believe him

That’s dating advice often given to ladies overlooking obvious red flags  but it goes with great force in OPM. ONE has characters tell us who they are early on, even if it doesn’t mean anything to us for a long time. 

And he’s had Genos be a particularly straightforward and truthful character.  He doesn’t always interpret things correctly, but he says it exactly as he sees it.  Looking at the way the high percentage cyborgs we’ve met thus far either be very inhuman looking or completely disguised as regular human beings,  he’s chosen an appearance that puts both his humanity and mechanical nature on display.

Something that the chapter has brought up that I've kept saying to people on the Discord and on Reddit: there is no medically justifiable reason for Genos to have a body as modified as he does.   Which Genos TELLS US for fuck’s sake.  His giant wall of text is a synopsis, no more and no less.

When he says that “...I asked Professor Kuseno to perform a procedure to modify my body. Then I was reborn as a cyborg for justice...”  (Viz)  “...I begged Dr Stench (sic) to transform me into a cyborg and I was reborn as a cyborg who fights for justice...” (Boon scanslations, who copied verbatim whoever did the webcomic version). It’s nothing to do with health.  Feel free to have whatever headcanons you like, but please don’t confuse them with the story.

But it doesn’t end there.  I look at Destro and Erimin and realise that there’s another perfectly truthful statement that’s been staring us in the face.

Genos knows. Why would he ask a mechanical engineer who uses a wearable battle suit and pilots armed drones to modify his body, let alone modify it to such an insane degree?  Because he knows that Dr Kuseno knows how to build cyborgs like the one who destroyed his town.

We don’t know if Destro and Erimin have any responsibility for the destroyed town, but someone of their ilk does.   Which brings us to a third nakedly truthful statement. When Genos talks of not believing that he could be defeated by anything other than the rampaging cyborg, he’s not anticipating winning because he’s suicidal.  It’s because he’s aware that if he’s throwing rock, so too is his enemy: mutual annihilation is the best he can hope for.

At least until he met Saitama. And started to hope for not mutual destruction, but victory (check the difference in chapter 108 of the webcomic).

a world away from the attitude of mutually-assured destruction he started with.

Stepping away from the text a bit, it casts a different light on why he’s been so desperate to learn from Saitama. Learning Saitama's secret is his balance-breaker. He wants something other than rock, that is guaranteed to smash whatever rock his enemy might throw.    But that’s not all there is.   As Garou said, once he discovered Blue Fire’s flamethrower, once you know how a freakish weapon works, you know it.  Any edge a new weapon might give Genos is liable to be studied and replicated  (see how quickly Dr Kuseno was able to reverse engineer and adapt the principles of G-4′s curving energy beams).   But Saitama’s strength is unphysical: no matter how closely you inspect his body, you can never relate the physicality of Saitama’s body to the power he can generate.  That unphysicality, that’s what Genos wants too.   It also puts in context why he’s been so fascinated by psychic power and wants to learn it if at all possible.

neat trick, I’ll take two!  Genos dodging G4′s beams in chapter 38, and putting the principle of them to good use in chapter 120

And finally, since in his world, knowledge is literally power, it gives yet another layered reason Genos is so determined to keep anyone else from becoming Saitama’s disciple.  If they learn his secret too, then the advantage he seeks will be lost.  (that it doesn’t work quite that way for Saitama is a fact for us to enjoy and for him to find out).

Nothing is as scary as a human being

Nothing is as scary as a human being is one of the things that Reigen says to Tome on occasion. It’s in full force in OPM.  Monsters may be strong, but they all live in the now.  Only a human being could have put together the Monster Association.   When it comes to cyborgs, their abilities may be inhuman but their thoughts, imaginations, morals and appetites are all 100% human.   It’s a terrifying combination.

There’s something I missed when I likened The Organization to a Claw Analogue. In Mob Psycho 100, the protagonists are children and they're fighting an organisation made up of over-grown children -- adults who have refused to grow up. In One-Punch Man, the protagonists are adults and the bad humans in the story are very much adults too.   With calculated cruelty and depravity to match. When The Organization bares its claws for real, this is going to get so brutal.

If Genos has not been standing still, then neither has his enemy.  From the manga, even if we hold Drive Knight blameless and independent of all this mess, his besting Nyan told us that cyborgs can indeed come crazy-strong and highlighted how much more work Genos had yet to do. It also highlighted how very clever and calculating cyborgs can be -- well, they’re human, duh!  If I was worried for his prospects then,  in the webcomic, Genos is nowhere near as psychologically, physically or emotionally ready as his manga version is.   And the guys who look to be his enemies aren’t going to be cutting him any slack.   They’re very real.  They’re not mad.  And they’re closer than he ever imagined.

Fighting monsters is barely adequate preparation for whatever it is that’s to come.

Whenever Genos gets dragged into whatever it is those cyborgs are up to  -- or runs into it, since he claims he’s still hunting the rampaging cyborg -- ‘rough’ doesn’t begin to describe it.

Extra Stuff

Edited from an answer I gave on Reddit to the question of how much of Genos was still organic about 2 years ago.  It’s unexpectedly relevant!

Short answer: by mass, under 10% , assuming he would have weighed  approximately 70 kg. By function, quite a bit.

 The long answer.

I’m going to write this starting from what is most readily observable and readily inferred to the least. In appreciation of this being a work of fiction that treats physical laws lightly, I too am taking a more-or-less approach and will keep technical terms to a minimum. I'm also not a medic and I don't play one on TV -- assume generous hand-wavium. Items in {curly brackets} are incidental notes you can skip.

Level 0: Canonically observable.  The least controversial observation is that Genos does have an organic brain. Genos does not live in a lab, but is able to live largely independently, including being able to eat whatever he likes with no ill-effect. Not just that, but he lives an active and hard-fighting life that appears to do him no permanent harm (I will return to this in a few paragraphs).  What can we take from this?

Edit: There is also ONE’s initial settings for Genos, which I quote here from the Hero Data Book

ONE: There's no need to visit Dr. Kuseno's place every time when his wrist break down, because he got his own spare parts at hand. Dr Kuseno's Lab is there In case for a big reparation job, a drastic upgrade or an examination.

It’s tempting to think that because we see that he definitely has a brain that’s all there is – the brain in a jar phenomenon, so to speak. Something a lot of people miss is that the spinal cord proper isn’t optional either -- it’s a core part of the central nervous system.  Spinal cords are a lot shorter than most people think they are, averaging 12 inches long for women and 15 inches for men.  The rest are nerve processes that can be cut and will regrow (within limits). We’re also happy to allow for nerves and their endings -- there must be an interface for the prosthetics so they're under the fine voluntary control that we see. However, that’s not all that there can be. The Cartesian mind-body duality is completely wrong when it comes to physiology. Our brains are intimately bound with our bodies and our bodies with our brains. So what does one need?

Level 1: Perfusion. This is the most obvious one. Without a blood supply providing oxygen, glucose and removing waste products from our brains, we have 4-5 seconds of consciousness available, 2-3 minutes in which we can escape brain damage and 8-10 minutes in which not to die. So, number one is a reliable blood supply.  Absolutely necessary therefore are a means of generating the various blood cells, perfusing and distributing them and disposing of damaged cells (red blood cells have a lifespan of 1-2 months). While not as acutely important, a self-sustaining blood supply is also the basis of a functioning immune system.  It's a bit of an oops moment when your super-killer cyborg catches a cold and dies.

Accordingly, bone marrow is essential as a source of hematopoietic (blood-forming) stem cells. A suitably reduced blood vessel and lymphatic vessel system is also needed to run the blood where it needs to go. {An awesome feature of living beings is that new blood vessels will be recruited to where they need to go and redundant branches pruned back, a process known as vascular remodelling}. A reduced liver and possibly spleen will be needed to appropriately destroy worn out blood cells. At least one functional kidney, in the role of producing the hormone erythropoietin, without which red blood cells will not be formed. Not essential: a heart and lungs, which he definitely doesn't have. How much blood is needed?  I’ll come to that answer once we’ve tallied how much body is needed.

Additionally, since part of perfusion is getting rid of metabolic waste, a liver and kidney will be absolutely indispensable.  

Level 2: Homoeostasis. A living organism has a very narrow range in which its internal environment, such as oxygen saturation, temperature, pH (acidity or alkalinity) amongst other things can vary without harm.

There are around 40 or so hormones, the signalling molecules that keep us going as functional concerns, regulating such things as blood pressure, salt/water balance, available energy, sleep cycle, body temperature, mood, immune system... the list goes on. Each has a stupid number of secondary functions and interacts with others in a ludicrous number of ways (note highly scientific language). Their levels vary and change on the order of seconds to hours. It's a good job that the main organiser of homoeostasis, the hypothalamus, is part of the brain. {Incidentally, this is why a brain-dead cadaver cannot be kept ‘alive’ on life support indefinitely – everything falls out of sync and eventually to pieces.} To do this artificially is to have your cyborg never leave the lab: if you're not constantly monitoring and adjusting levels, then they will die. Fortunately, as mentioned, a living, functional brain has the control network needed to keep everything working without the extensive and expensive effort. Just add air, water and food (in that priority).

At this point, we've already met most of the organs needed to maintain homoeostasis in their capacity of maintaining a blood supply. We need to add some bone, not just to serve as a niche (living environment) for the bone marrow and its stem cells mentioned previously but as a source and sink for minerals, the adrenal glands and the thyroid gland. Finally, one must not forget pancreatic islets -- or it'll be for nothing as he goes into a diabetic coma.

Level 3: Energy.   Speaking of food, a brain needs essential fatty acids for turnover and lots and lots of glucose for energy. It’s entirely possible to supply nutrients as total parenteral nutrion (TPN for short).  People whose digestive systems have completely failed get individually formulated TPN solutions, which requires that they spend several hours a day feeding it into their blood supply. Not something we see Genos do.  And yes, you heard it here: not everyone poops, but everyone sure as hell pees.  While a brain only weighs about 1.5 kg, it uses up about 500 calories a day as glucose, so 700 ish calories a day should suffice for all the needs of his live mass. This bears no relationship to the amount of food we see Genos put away on occasion. Why hasn’t he wrecked his liver in a matter of weeks? The answer would appear to lie in the artificial digestive system Dr. Kuseno has given him which turns food into biofuel. It must be patched into a feedback loop which allows it to only supply what’s physiologically necessary at any given time. Lucky for some!

Level 4: So how much body does that add up to exactly?  Nothing says you have to keep the necessary organs and blood vessel network the same size. With only a 1.5 kg brain to support, many can be shrunk a good 50% if not more. A total living mass of 7 kg would be quite feasible. We know from organ-on-a-chip experiments (and from unfortunate people who have lost part of their organs) that provided the essential architecture of the tissue is respected, they will work fine. Nothing says you have to keep them in the same place as the original organs were -- you can encapsulate it all in a can and shorten the nerves serving the organs to a more rational, manageable length. It's nice and compact and can be protected as heavily as the brain is.

Now we’re in a position to answer how much blood Genos has. There are about 70 ml of blood per kilogram of body weight, so at ~ 7 kg, we’re talking about 500 ml of blood. For comparison, the typical 70 kg person has 5 litres of blood. Why does this matter?  Because it allows us to answer a question many may be curious about: how often does Genos get hurt?

The answer is: Almost Never. With so little body, and with most of that body consisting of aptly named vital organs, even small injuries can turn catastrophic in no time.  Genos will bleed out with around 150 ml of blood loss, which is less than half of what is donated in a typical blood donation.  Horrible and dramatic as the smashes he gets into are, it’s more akin to a Formula 1 race car tumbling end over end and catching fire, only for the driver to walk out unscathed.  His cyborg parts are replaceable and can be sacrificed to protect what’s irreplaceable if need be.

[elizabeatrice]

Mystery Spot (Chapter 68)

Let’s Talk About JSHK Manga #4

If you get the title reference, I applaud you.

Warning: 1) !!! MANGA SPOILERS UP TO CHAPTER 68 !!! Duh.

2) I dropped a couple of f bombs and several curses here ... I really ranted lmao.

3) This reaction/review is closer to me spewing wild theories rather than an actual review. But these wild theories are my reactions. So. Ehhh these theories are probably wrong anyway. Lemme have my dark, twisted fun, mkay? Not sure if they’re entirely coherent though.

Had trouble copying some kanji this time around ‘cause they’re so freaking blurry! So I got too lazy to write this yesterday haha. Thank you Ropes of Fate for the translation! Truly commendable heroes of the fandom *sobs*. I also used three panels from Chapter 61, translated by Caim.

Let’s jump into it (ba dum tss).

This chapter is a bit shorter than usual and boy do you feel it. Well. At least I do. But I really hope sensei are taking some time to relax. Last chapter was 45 pages, after all. Y’all deserve it you wonderful creators.

First of all I would like to dedicate the biggest f bomb for the villagers because what the fuck. Why the fuck would you sacrifice poor, innocent young girls just to keep yourself safe? And it’s not even a sacrifice to kami-sama! Y’all just droppin’ these girls to be eaten by supernaturals! And y’all practically manipulated them smh.

Are y’all insane?! Y’all could’ve just moved the fuck out. What kind of insane people just decide to stay near a literal pit of hell? Don’t give me the ‘we’ve lived here for generations’ bs okay ‘cause y’all neighbors be getting eaten by supernaturals but y’all rather trade innocent young girls for your own safety. If Berkians and Asgardians can suck it up and be the bigger nation with all that ‘Berk/Asgard is not a place it’s the people’ shit, y’all can too.

I’ve disliked characters in JSHK before. But I’ve never hated JSHK characters before. Until now. Y’all fucking did it, dumbass villagers.

Ahem. Pardon me.

Because my brain is a literal self-debate machine let me just say that I did consider several possibilities in these ‘people’’s defense. There’s the obvious ‘some people back then didn’t know any better and believe a human sacrifice will solve everything’ mindset. Then there’s the possibility of them being trapped in their village for some reason, hence not having any other choice but to sacrifice those girls.

But y’know what else could be the case? ‘Cause my mind really went dark there for a bit.

The Minamoto clan let it happen.

In the last chapter it was mentioned that the Minamoto clan was involved. And this is a bit shocking now that I think about it more ‘cause Teru has always been adamant that all supernaturals are evil and must be exorcised, humans must be protected.

But what if they just let the villagers sacrifice these girls so that the monsters can be contained in this village, in that pit, instead of running amok to other places and cause more trouble?

Which makes me wonder.

Uh. Where did Teru go to? Does he know about this? Did he go to that pit (or that village, if Kamome Academy wasn’t built on its land)?

If he does know, isn’t he interested in saving a fellow human student and underclassman? If he does know about the Akane clan, isn’t he interested in telling his VP, who’s obsessed with an Akane? Unless ... you know ... he meant for this to happen, which I kinda doubt.

He must know something about this. He went out of his way to make Akane promise to protect Kou if something were to happen. What’s more dangerous than the Grim Reaper showing up looking for a sacrifice who turned out to be Kou’s beloved senpai’s best friend? What if Akane had to choose between Aoi and Kou at some point?

Okie next I wanna talk about Hanako. This is gonna sound just as far fetched as the previous bit lmao but here goes.

Boiiii y’all saw it. The pause before his answer. His face drawn out of view, in an evasive body language.

(Hanako my boy pls do us all a favor and stop lying to your girlfriend, we all know how well that turned out in Picture Perfect lmao)

Theory. He knew what’s been going on all along. Or at least the gist of it.

Remember this?

Imma take a detour a lil bit.

The Far Shore/torii gate refused Nene in chapter 67, right? In my Chapter 67 reaction I said it was the bracelet that saved her but now I think the bracelet probably disguised her as Sumire in the villagers’ eyes. So the Far Shore/torii gate refused her, and we all thought it was because she wasn’t an Akane.

But then we found out that Hanako was right about the village. It was just a ‘made up world’ inside Shinigami’s boundary. It’s just a reenactment of the day Sumire died, probably based on Shinigami’s memories, as the first page of Chapter 64 said.

So of course Nene was refused. Because in his memories, Sumire was the one who fell into the pit that day.

Sumire also said in this chapter’s narration that the villagers sacrificed young girls. Not Akane girls. Also, before the sacrifices began, the monsters already ate villagers anyway, right? They didn’t only eat young girls. It wasn’t said as such. The villagers probably just chose young girls because that’s sorta like the equivalent of offering the best meat or smth. Practically a please accept our humble offering of tenderloin wagyu, O Horrible Monsters.

The coveted bloodline thing was probably a plus, not obligatory. Often in stories, people with high ‘spiritual energy’ are supposed to taste more delicious and grant whoever eats their meat special powers or smth (e.g. Tang Sanzang from Journey to the West). Also ancient cultures sacrifice young girls often, that was the trend.

And they proceeded to try to sacrifice Nene anyway, despite her not being an Akane. They said it themselves. “It doesn’t matter if it’s that girl.”

So according to the (rather vague) information we have, it’s possible that the sacrifice doesn’t have to be an Akane or a girl.

Some of y’all have been theorizing that the Yugi twins got involved with supernaturals, and that sorta lead to their death.

What if this is it?

I myself am not sure how it went down if this is really the case. But I keep imagining our boy’s infamous ‘I’m not going anywhere’ being said by Sumire because bruh she’s the epitome of not going anywhere. She was chosen to be sacrificed since she was a child, not given a choice. Even after she died and became a yorishiro, she was imprisoned in this time prison world or whatever, reliving her death every single day with no escape.

And I couldn’t help but think ‘hoooo shit what if???’

I mean. I don’t know who was the chosen sacrifice. Could be Tsukasa, could be Amane. Maybe he killed his brother so that he wouldn’t get sacrificed, and decided that he’ll die along with his brother. I’m not going anywhere. Maybe it also means I’m not letting you send my brother to be eaten by monsters, and since we can’t escape either, we’re staying here no matter what.

And if the Minamotos were really in on it, it makes sense for Grandma Minamoto to accuse Amane of being an evil murderer. He practically got in the way ‘of other people’s safety’ by killing the chosen sacrifice.

banjjakz also said something about the possibility of Tsukasa being a previous sacrifice. Read about it here and here. It’s pretty interesting!

Besides, a wonder whose precious person got sacrificed and later became their yorishiro? That’d be some parallel, haha.

Sure, Sumire said ‘if the kannagi was switched’. But the early narration didn’t mention a sacrifice of kannagi. Just ‘young girls’.

Look just lemme have this, alright?

Oh. Also I wanted to point out the possible tension/trust issues between Hanako and Nene but many other blogs have pointed it out quite well so I’m just gonna stick with my wild theories.

But I will address what Nene said about the pit.

Where is said pit anyway? In Kamome? Why is it open? Is it Tsukasa changing rumors and allowing more supernaturals to cross back to the Near shore? More likely. I mean, he does grant wishes for supernaturals after all.

Oh. Speaking of Nene. Let’s give her a round of applause for her character development. She’s become of better judgement regarding men’s terrible behavior. Wow. That’s my girl. I mean, we still don’t know much about Shinigami, but from what I’ve seen so far, Sumire guuuurrrrllllll you deserve better.

Regardless of my ships, these supernatural boys should take notes from my precious Kou and how he loves so selflessly. Lmao. Remember that one post-chapter panels in Picture Perfect where he said he’ll find Nene a prince in the real world, even though he likes her? Broooo I want ten of this precious boy.

Lastly, Akane and Aoi.

Where are they? They look like they’re stranded in some wild boundary somewhere, the one with half sunken houses and lost things that usually appear in color spreads. I am so hyped, ‘cause I love the aesthetics, and I wanna see more of this place.

Oh. And Akane’s alive. Phew. I gotta be honest though, I kinda looked forward to his death. Not because I hate the kiddo. He’s technically still human, right. I’m just wondering whether his death or Aoi’s would cause Teru to outright declare war against the Seven Wonders because aren’t these folks supposed to protect students like they claim to be? (This, of course, ignores my previous theories about the Minamoto clan)

Basically I just wanna see some shit go down with Teru mkay ‘cause this powerful dude has been useless for quite too long now.

Aoi’s still pretty confusing, too. She went from this weird expression:

to this:

She kinda looked like she was still under the influence of the drug thingy. But she was also concerned about Akane, even though it’s not like how she worried about Nene in the past. And she knew Akane longer than her, they practically grew up together. Real Aoi would be in tears seeing his condition, y’all. So I guess the drug thingy’s effect is slowly wearing out.

Closing! JSHK is dark but usually not in ways my brain expects it to be. (And a lot of times I still get surprised with the amount of comedy it has lmao.) Sooo sensei are probably gonna prove me wrong about most of these, anyway. Haha.

As always feel free to discuss.