#normal sounds are easy to decode

[maximumeffort69]

auditory processing disorder + ears of a dog (autism sound sensitivity) go crazy. i can hear the snow falling and hitting the ground even with the window closed but i say "huh" 50 times before understanding your sentence

[the-necromancer-wife]

14 days with you: A comprehensive (i hope so) guide on what are those encrypted messages on day 4.

Soooo for those who don't know, i have a special interest for cryptoanalisis and even took classes when the military showed up at my school (it's a normal thing for the military to come recluting in my country lmao, males even have to go one year of mandatory military training) anyway. I noticed something interesting on day four and i don't know if anyone else has tried to decipher these. But i don't want to just limit to give the decoded message, so in this post i'll teach you how exactly this type of cipher works so you can respond to this guy in his same language >:3

TW: Spoilers for 14dwy (of course) and a looong rant. Those are the only warnings.

Just scroll to the end in case you're just looking for the translations alone.

The first two messages are pretty easy to decode since it's just ascii. You can easily translate it online or if you know the language of 0s and 1s you can just read it through.

The first one reads a bit more harder than the other two but it says "HI ANGEL" and "ERROR: I SEE YOU" or something like that.

The main thing it's the more complicated set of words we get later:

This specific cipher is called Monoalphabetic substitution.

I'll teach you how it works:

Monoalphabetic ciphers are a type of substitution cipher where each letter in the plaintext is mapped to a fixed letter in the ciphertext. This mapping remains consistent throughout the entire message. The primary goal of these ciphers is to convert plaintext into ciphertext and vice versa, ensuring data security.

Basically swaps a letter for another and that's it. Well...not quite. There is also different categories when you work with this specific cipher. You have to take into account if the spaces on the encrypted message must be kept (Aristocrat cipher) or ignored (Patristocrat cipher). In this case we'll be taking the spaces into account. You also must take into account the language, since russian monoalphabetic and english monoalphabetic (for example) are completely different (obviously).

You need to start guessing the letters with the only clue being the text itself.

It might sound complicated but it is really simple. I'll work with the messages in the game directly while i show you:

We already know that the language is english, so there is must likely two letters we already have, and it's the letter "I" and the letter "A". Since those are the only single character you could use separately from the others to indicate personal first-person pronoun and an adjective respectively. The first issue is that we have two letters that repeat themselves as single letters throughout the messages: Letter "P" and letter "M"

So we must figure out which letter corresponds to which substitute letter. So my recommendation is to look for short words through the messages that include a P or an M

We have PIJ and PS and JMJ, AMQ and AMS for example. The ideal would be to look for any words with P and M both included, but i didn't find any word. So if you replace Ps and Ms as

P→I

M→A

Basically the words are IIJ IS JAJ AAQ AAS

Notice how the "IS" seemed to be partially solved but could be "IS" or "AS" since we don't have confirmation of actually P→I. Of course, all of this assuming S→S

When you do the substitution as P=A and M=I we have something like this: AIJ AS JIJ AIQ AIS

the AIQ and AIS are two really interesting words since they could be pronouns. HIS and HIM respectively, but this is all a process of trial and error until you try every possible combination that will get you to eventually complete more words (bigger words) and fill in the gaps, obtaining more letters.

It kinda reminds me to the system of learning a language in this game called HOMICIPHER.

Anyway, I'll save you some troubles and try some more combinations.

If we assume that

S→S

P→I

M→A

We can now try to figure out bigger words. Words that contain S, P and M

Btw this is a super complicated thing to do as it sometimes requires more of a leap of faith than a proper analysis. So this is a process that goes back and forth.

For example, we see the word PQ a lot. The P being I and the Q could be an S so it forms the word "IS". But when we see that S=S the only other possible combination is Q→M

So now we have another letter deciphered and we can try and replace the letters in bigger words to see how many more letters we can complete. From this point on it gets a lot easier unless we make a mistake, in which case we need to go back and try other combinations.

Now that you have the method, you can try and figure it out by your own. But if you don't feel like it, I'll just leave the full substitutions below. I encourage you to skip it and try to figure out all the letters by yourself, it's pretty fun.

HCJWTBYKNDRGIUEAMQSLOPFVXZ is the key for solving this.

See?

Of course i will translate all the messages for you in case you just want to read them.

TRANSLATIONS:

HOW INTERESTING. A LOWLY, MEAGRE INTERLOPER ATTEMPTING TO REWRITE WHAT HAS ALREADY BEEN ORDAINED SINCE THE BEGINNING...

YOU REMEMBER NOTHING OF YOUR PAST NOR HOW YOU CAME TO BE, YET HERE YOU ARE, ATTEMPTING TO DIG UP THE ROOTS OF FATE AS THOUGH IT WERE A WEED AND PLANTING YOUR OWN CORRUPT SEEDLING IN ITS PLACE

PERHAPS WE ARE THE SAME, THEN

I TOO FIND ENJOYMENT IN DISRUPTING THE VINES OF KISMET AND WATCHING HIM STRUGGLE

(Kismet = a force that controls the future, outside human control)

TWAS I WHO GAVE HIM HIS GIFT, AS I DID WITH OTHERS, AND YET HE WASTES SUCH SPOILS ON A LOWLY MORTAL TO BORROW MORE TIME. I SUPPOSE THE LIFE OF MANY MATTERS NOT TO THE LIFE OF ONE

NO MATTER. SUCH TRIVIAL ENTERTAINMENT IS NOT LOST ON ME

GO ON, CONTINUE DOWN THIS FOOLISH, OVERGROWN PATH AND SEE WHAT WILL HAPPEN. TIS NOT THY WILTING SOUL I FEED ON AND IT SHALL NOT BE THY LIFE I CLAIM ONCE THE ENDING HAS BEGUN

AFTER ALL, I AM THE END, JUST AS I AM THE BEGINNING AND THE IN-BETWEEN. THE PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE, COMBINED INTO ONE. I AM INEVITABLE.

...

Final thoughts:

This doesn't seem like something Ren would say, not even [REDACTED] since whatever this is seems to be ancient (judging by the language) and completely able to "give" abilities to people.

I personally believe there is certain philosophy under the idea of "being a programmer" or a "hacker" since it's one of the only instances in which a human can become something remotely closer to a god. When you think about it, within that knowledge lies the ability to name (variables), the ability to give a purpose and overall the ability to control what happened, happens and will happen. Considering that 14dwy is a game that heavily brings the topic of something (probably Ren/Redacted) messing with the code, i wouldn't be surprised if this entity that speaks in criptic manners was something among the lines of a laplace demon. Which would be hella funny, because the nickname Ren chose for us ("Angel").

I could explain more about the Laplace Demon concept if you, dear readers, are interested but that would be for another occasion. Another essay hehe.

For now, a huge thanks to @14dayswithyou for their amazing work in cryptography. I had a lot of fun deciphering this. I am excited about what this game will turn out to be.

Have a really great day/night!

[sweetimpurity]

I Think I'll Keep You 5

a/n: Thank you again for your patience! I hope you guys enjoy and the next chapter is already underway and will come very soon! And some more art and bots coming out as well so look out for that!

w.c.: 10.2k NSFW MINORS DNI

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

“...accurate and efficient methods of decoding… further aiding us in understanding… um… complicated genetic codes… pushing preservation and conservation. Uhh… yeah.” Miguel sighs, sitting up in his seat and peering over your arm as you type away on his laptop. Sitting at a table in the middle of the library during tutoring hours. Your fingers typing for him as he speaks what he wants written. He can’t type. Not with his right hand totally out of commission. So he’s come to your open tutoring hours. And now you have a student to work on so you can get paid and he can get help with his work. It’s Saturday and the two of you have been practically connected at the hip for the past two days.

You woke up beside him yesterday afternoon after that late night emergency room run. Lazily, sleepily taking the rest of the day slowly. Walking across campus to get food since all you both ate the whole night was a few pieces of candy. Smiling and talking, shoes splashing in shallow puddles along the concrete. A refreshing feeling having moved on from the mess of the last few weeks. The bubble has popped. That bubble of sex and ignorance that felt so great for the both of you. Sitting in the dining hall, among the hardwood and tall, ancient windows of your old university; looking over the school grounds turned fall shades and the autumn breeze blowing in through the window. Trying to talk about anything that won’t add any more stress or tension. No talk of friends, or family, not even school. Really just talking about whatever comes into your mind. And the conversation is just so easy. It’s different to spend time with him outside of the dorm room. It didn’t happen very often before. A lot of your conversations were pillowtalk. It’s different talking about the other parts of your life that don’t take place right after doing the deed. Miguel is funny. And he’s a good listener when his mind is clear and he’s focused on you. Only you. 

Feels like things are going back to normal. Well not how it was before. A new normal. 

“I think it sounds good… it’s a little awkward in the intro still but we can fix it up later…” You assure him, fixing a few typos and reading it over. The library is nice and quiet as always. You didn’t have any other students come this afternoon so you have time to focus on this and help Miguel since you know he can’t really do it himself right now.

“I don’t know… feels like I’m missing something. I’m gonna include the research but it doesn't feel like enough.” He sighs, leaning his elbows on the table, pushing his frames further up the bridge of his nose and looking over the notes in his hand. His knee is bouncing under the table and you can feel the vibrations of it in your seat. He’s applying to the Alchemax grant program. A huge grant with a long essay to go with it, multiple letters of recommendation and a personal profile piece. Tens of thousands of dollars for his research project. And he’d basically be an intern there. Able to use their facilities and labs to complete the job and create a brand new study of his own. It would start right after graduation and almost definitely lead to a great job at Alchemax Industries. He sighs, leaning back in his seat, draping his arm over the back of your chair. 

“You okay?” You hum, observing his clearly distressed behavior. His knee bouncing, his brow furrowed, the sighs. He looks over at you, in your eyes. Don’t lie. “Yeah I’m fine… just… want to get this right.” 

You nod. Knowing that’s not all there is to it. But accepting it for now. “Well, maybe you should include some of your… personality…traits…” You suggest with a small smile, knowing that it will be like pulling teeth with him, clasping your hands in your lap and looking over at him next to you. 

“Like what. I mean… Tyler knows me. He’s the one that told me to apply.” [Tyler Stone. President and Ceo of Alchemax Industries.] He sighs, pushing his glasses up on his head, his dark curls becoming a little messy with the metal pushed through them, and rubbing the sides of his nose with his fingers. The ache of wearing his glasses for a while when he usually doesn’t like wearing them at all. But he’s worn them more often the past few days. He can see you more clearly now.  

“Yeah but he’s not the only one who’s gonna be working with you or deciding if you get the job or not. You want people to know who you are… know the kind of person you are. More often than not, that’s more important than the research when it comes to something like this. I mean, you’re not just applying for a grant, you’re applying for a job…” You explain kindly. He looks up, in your eyes, his eyes raking over your pretty face. He loves feeling like he can be close to you again. He loves feeling like he knows what’s going on in your head. Or maybe that’s just his need for control seeping in. Like venom in warm blood. Just sitting next to you like this. Even if he hasn’t so much as kissed you since everything went down. It’s only been nearly two weeks but it feels like an eternity. He wants to so badly. But he reminds himself that this is how things are right now. He messed up and he’s getting a second chance. He won’t take your forgiveness for granted. “Yeah, you’re right.” He admits, dropping the graphs and charts on the table.

“Maybe talk about family… inspirations… personal goals. People like that kind of stuff. People also want to know that you can be a part of something bigger than yourself…” You say, fingers brushing over the keys and ready to type what he says. “Uh…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to pull this out of his brain. He doesn’t really want to talk about his family. Doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction of being considered inspiration. But his upbringing and his parents’ names alone have opened a lot of doors for him in the past. His fingers fidget on the back of your chair, catching a few strands of your hair, playing with it so softly that you don’t even feel it. And he watches the side of your face to make sure you don’t notice, your eyes focused on the computer screen. Curling the strands around his finger and getting lost in touching you. Hanging on desperately to this morsel of touch. Knowing he probably shouldn’t but he just can’t help himself.

“I guess… we could say I grew up watching my parents with their business. But that’s more… financial services. When I was born, OLI was just taking off and now… I’ve watched them build it into what it is today.” He explains. You keep typing, writing it down in the notes to keep it straight. You can hear the sigh in his voice like he hates to be talking about it. You don’t know why. Mostly because he’s never spoken about this before. But if he’s applying for such a big opportunity then it’s important to include.

“OLI, I’ve heard of that, I think…” You look over at him, unsure what that stands for but you know you’ve heard that acronym before, or maybe you’ve seen it somewhere? 

“O’hara Legacy Investments.” He says with a nod and sigh, a level of disdain in his tone. He leans forward, his mind still on this essay. On beefing it up with info that might secure him this grant. Even though he’s confident his connections will get him in. There’s always a chance things might not go his way. He wants to prepare for every possible outcome. He hates to feel out of control. You stop typing. That sounds like investment banking. Like the kind of thing that makes people billionaires. 

“Is that the… that tall building downtown?” You ask, looking over at him and he nods, a blank stare in his eyes as he’s looking down at the research notes. “Your family runs that?”

“Yep.” He sighs, not offering more information so you don’t ask for more.

“Okay sooo… how would that influence your work at Alchemax?” You prompt, trying to veer back on course. You can tell he’s losing steam, you’ve been at this a while. 

“So I guess it’s not really the same as what I would be doing at Alchemax but… Watching how that runs… how many people it takes to keep something running like that. I guess something about leading teams of people working towards a goal…” He keeps thinking out loud and you keep typing, interpreting his words into organized notes and ideas. “So.. maybe about you as a leader? You think you can be a good leader…” 

“Yeah. I think so… and soccer, we could include that too.” He says, perking up and sitting up a bit straighter. Although the topic of soccer does bring his anxiety levels up a bit. Watching you type while playing with a piece of frayed material on his cast. “Yeah, captain of the soccer team, sports is always something they want to hear. If you’re a leader… organizer. And coming from SU especially, they love to see it.” You agree, typing and compiling the thoughts that come to mind. “And to know you can work in a team…” 

Miguel nods. Feeling relieved that you’re able to help him with this. He did all the more technical notes for it over the past few weeks. Organized lots of thoughts and data to start the writing process. Then he broke his fingers and that put a wrench in the process. It’s due next week and without you he’d be screwed. But it works out sort of perfectly, and a little selfishly, that now he’s spending more time with you because of that. “I think also…” 

He starts. You look over, ready to type whatever he suggests. “I’m an older brother too… that’s… I don’t know…” He mumbles. You find yourself smiling. “I feel like… maybe being a leader in that way is different.” 

“It’s very different, yes…” You nod, looking back at the laptop screen, a smile dancing on your lips. “Maybe something about… protecting… looking out for those that are important to me. Or being a good role model I guess…” He sighs. Thinking. About Gabriel. About you. Pretty much the two most important people in his life. I guess I haven’t been a very good role model as of late. 

“Loyalty… role model…” You say and nod. Typing those words in the compilation of notes you’re making in the margins. His knee is still bouncing.

“I also think you’re very passionate…” You say. He looks over at you, the side of your face, watching you type more things in the notes. Trying to create a section of his essay that can portray him as not just another applicant. “I think I’m just generally angry… I don’t really think before I do things…” He scoffs, shaking his head and leaning forward, his arms on the table, his head resting down on his forearms, looking at your pretty face from this angle. You grin and nod, giving him a look. “Yeah but we don’t have to include that… passion works…” 

He laughs through his nose, blinking softly and admiring your face. Watching your pretty eyes, the light of the computer screen reflecting in them, making them especially sparkly. It’s quiet for a moment, just the clicks of keys and fingertips. He thinks, reflecting on all that’s happened in the past few weeks. That thing with Dana keeps coming to mind. That was really a moment of lost control. Is that the passion you’re talking about? That he loses control and can’t get it back until it’s almost too late? He worries about that. Not remembering most of it because he was so angry. It sort of feels like a dream. Especially since he fought with you right after that and then everything went right to shit. 

All he knows is that Dana made it back to his dorm. He knows for a fact nothing happened. He wouldn’t have wanted it anyway because he despises her and she was drunk off her ass. But she did lie on his bed. Her perfume was all over him. And he remembers standing over her and wanting to make her hate him. Just so that she would leave him alone. That’s a level of anger he never wants you to witness, or anyone really for that matter. It scares him a bit now to think of it. All he knows is that if you think he’s loyal, he’ll be loyal as a dog. If you think he’s passionate, he’ll be a raging, burning fire to keep you warm. You think he’s anything, he’ll be that. If you want him to be. 

He fidgets with the fray on his cast. Coming off the blue material. His gaze caught on the little cursive “mine” you wrote. That night in the drug store. When you were both so deliriously tired, sitting in the middle of the floor. Having this on his arm is like a reminder. Or a promise. That maybe you’ll be his or he’ll be yours again. He’ll just have to be patient. His thumb brushes over the word, like making sure the letters won’t fall off, making sure they’re stained into the blue permanently. Do you even remember writing this? He thinks. Or were you so tired it feels like a dream? His bouncing knee still vibrates against your chair. 

“Anything else for today? We did a lot…” You ask, looking over at him. Bringing him out of his thoughts. “No, I think that’s good, thank you… but maybe next week we can finalize things and you can help me edit it?” He asks hopefully. “Yeah definitely, I’ll block out some time for you…” 

He nods, sighing and pulling his glasses off his head. Folding them up in his hand and collecting his papers. You just save the document, debating in your head the words on your tongue. Closing the laptop so he can pack it up in his bag. 

“So… you wanna tell me what’s stressing you out?” You ask, turning in your seat to face him and leaning your elbow on the table, head in your hand. He stops what he’s doing, putting down the stack of notebooks. “You can read my mind…” He smiles. 

“No, you’ve just been bouncing your knee against my chair for the past hour.” You sigh, smiling soft but sympathetic at him. His shoulders slump. “Oh sorry…” He shakes his head, feeling embarrassed for being so obvious, pinching the bridge of his nose in his fingers. 

“It’s okay… Is it the grant? I think your essay will be good enough…” You hum. Noticing all of his distress and not wanting him to be freaking out over something he’s already spent so long working on. “No it’s not… I… I’m really glad you can help me with it. Thank you… I’m just worried about the game tomorrow…” He nods. And it dawns on you. “Ohh…”

“I actually should get going… have a meeting with the coach. Figure out how we’re gonna pull this off…” He sighs, getting up from his seat to gather his things. He’s been wracked with anxiety about the game ever since putting two and two together that he’s out for the next few weeks. It’s against the rules for someone to play with a plaster cast on and he’s nowhere near getting that removed. So the team will have to supplement him. 

“You’re not gonna play are you? You shouldn’t… not with your hand like that.” You insist, watching him get up, pulling on his jacket precariously with his one working hand. He can hear the concern in your voice. “I can’t. It's an instant disqualification… so I have to talk to Coach and maybe I’ll just assistant coach tomorrow, I don’t know…” He sighs, knowing it’ll be a struggle for the team to play without him. And they very well might not win. This is a university proud of its win streak so far. 

“If it hurts, let Coach know… you don’t have to do anything that’s uncomfortable.” You advise softly. Wanting him to be comfortable. Always. That look of care on your face makes him feel a little warm. Making him feel a little soft and fuzzy inside. He can’t remember ever being worried over like that. He clears his throat, trying not to let that feeling get to him too much, shoving his laptop in his bag and zipping it up. “I will… don’t worry about me…” 

He says it but he doesn’t really mean it. Although he doesn't want you to be anxious; he definitely doesn’t need to inflict any more emotional pain on you, he’s done more than enough of that over the past few weeks… he does want you to care. Or it’s more like… once he realized you actually do care, now he doesn’t want to lose that. 

“Just be careful… I know you’ll do well and the team will be fine…” You smile gently. Clicking your pen and watching him getting ready to leave. His bag slung over his shoulder. “Thank you… yeah I just need to chill.” He sighs, moving his hurt hand around absentmindedly to soothe the ache. “Well… the feeling you’re having just means you care. It’s a good feeling, even though it’s scary…” 

He looks in your eyes, down at where you’re still sitting. Feeling struck by your words. You’ve always been so good at that. You always know exactly what to say when he needs to hear it. He hopes to do the same for you one day. If only he can figure out how you manage to do it every time. He just nods in thanks, a renewed sense of relief inside. 

“Dinner later?” He inquires, brow raising as he’s starting to walk away. Walking backwards away from the table, his eyes on you the entire time. 

“Sure, I’ll meet you there…” You rest your head on your hand, watching him go from where you’re sitting. Watching that look on his face. A sort of satisfaction in that he’s leaving but already thinking about when he gets to see you next. He nods. Turning towards the library doors and smiling to himself, making his way out. Sneakers tapping on the hardwood floors of the academic building, sparing you one last glance. Finding your eyes still on him. A stupid sort of giddy feeling in his chest. Lopsided grin on his lips as he leaves the library.

“O’hara! Dude.” Peter’s voice brings him out of his flurry of thoughts. Watching his friend march down the rest of the hall to him. “Where you been? You disappeared again…” Peter chuckles.

“Oh yeah I‘ve just been… busy in the lab and stuff… and my application.” He lies. While it’s true he has been working on his application and piles of homework, he’s also been actively avoiding all of his friends ever since your fight. Unable to handle even the slightest of social interaction. His mind set on you and only you. But he won’t tell Peter that. 

“Dana said you were being crazy or something…” Peter huffs, his brow quirked in disbelief. Miguel’s heart starts to beat a little harder at that. Did Dana tell everyone what happened? Or her version of what happened? “What did she say?”

“Well… she’s kinda implying that you two hooked up after the party last week…” Miguel’s eyes widen at that news. It’s just not true. But that seems to be the story everyone believes so far. “MJ thinks she’s full of shit bu-"

“She is full of shit.” Miguel sighs. Pinching the bridge of his nose. Or trying to with his cast. It was a foolish thing to give into his anger and take Dana back to his dorm. But he didn’t sleep with her. He’s not surprised though that she’s spreading that rumor around. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Shit, what happened?!” Peter flips, looking down at the cast engulfing Miguel’s forearm to the tips of his fingers. Looking at the seemingly broken hand, his eyes scanning over Miguel as a whole. Feeling like he has no idea what’s going on with someone who’s supposed to be his closest friend. “I broke my wrist but it’s fine, doctor says it’ll be fine even without surgery.”

“It’s fine?! What about the game?” Peter asks in panic, running a hand through his previously neat light brown locks. It’s against policy rules to play with a hard plaster cast for the safety of the other players and teammates. But Miguel’s the captain, their top offense and shooter. 

“I’ll be on the sidelines and Miller and Durante can take care of it.”

“It’s Princeton, Miguel. We’re gonna get fuckin’ smoked out there…” Peter huffs, going on and on but Miguel just shakes his head, feeling that anxiety rising again. The anxiety you were able to dampen only moments ago. “I know it sucks… I know. But those new drills have been helping… I’m gonna talk to coach.” 

“Alright… but Marco and Santiago need to get their asses in order before tomorrow. I’m not playing defense because they can’t pay attention to the fucking ball.” 

“I know, I know…” Miguel sighs and nods. Knowing this is all bad timing. They’ve been preparing for this game for a while now and it’s a pretty big spectacle. The stands will undoubtedly be full to the brim. It makes him tense and anxious to think about.

“Okay…” Peter huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Well, text me what Coach says…” He sighs, lifting his fist. Their knuckles colliding as he’s starting to walk off to where he’s going. “No more disappearing…” Peter chuckles, looking back as he starts walking down the hall, pointing a finger at his friend. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” Peter says with a nod, his hands in his pockets as he rounds the corner, walking into the library. Miguel sighs, feeling that tension, that tomorrow might not go well and it’ll be all his fault. Because he can’t do more to help the team he’s supposed to be leading.

He jogs down the stairs, down another hallway and outside. The fall breeze and smell of the trees and crisp autumn air flows past his cheeks, blowing back the little curls by his ears. Hunching his shoulders up when the brisk air cools his neck, pulling his collar up and walking across the commons to get to the athletic building on the other side of campus. To meet with Coach about the game plan for tomorrow. 

“Come on guys, one more time!” Miguel calls out to the team. Dressed in his uniform, dark blue and silver stripes, school colors with the Sterling University crest on his arm, a C on his chest. Number 99 on his back. Cleats and his cast to match. It does suck he has to miss out on actually playing but he does a lot of assistant coaching as captain anyway so it’s nothing he’s not used to. Coach Dean is talking with the referees anyway. Schmoozing on the sidelines, convinced it’ll earn them less whistles through the game. 

Miguel sighs, anxious, shaking his head and directing his attention to the mobs of people filling the stands. The sun is setting, the field lights coming on and a slight chill filling the air. A buzz with that too. College soccer fans here as well as lots of students from both universities. People are excited. The team is excited as well as anxious without Miguel playing beside them. Knowing they’ll have to supplement him being out. Miguel huffs, stretching his arms and wincing slightly at the remnants of ache in his wrist, his breath fogging in the cold air.

“Come on… si yeah! ¡Mantén la posesión!" He shouts from the sides, watching the team warming up with the drills and keeping order, following them up and down their half of the field. “Marco!¡Sigue presionando! Call for it!" A mix of Spanish and English naturally leave his lips. Dark eyes follow their form and technique. Keeping everyone in order. They’re doing really well as always. But Miguel would prefer perfection. “Good! Alright break!” He shouts.

The team all relaxes, sighing in relief and collecting on the sidelines near the bench. Some passing the ball back and forth. The goalie is doing some technique in the practice nets with Durante and Miller. Others glancing at the opposing team warming up on their side of the field. “Marco, you’re gonna break you’re fuckin’ ankle doing that. Keep it light, it doesn’t have to be so fast. Slow down and go through the steps, alright?” Miguel instructs calmly, grabbing a ball and demonstrating on the turf by the benches. Marco nods, wiping his brow with the edge of his jersey. 

“Just like that… keep it loose and look at Miller, he’s the one you’re paying attention to. Don’t look at Durante, he’s gonna be looking at Miller for that pass down the field. But that was still good, keep it up..” 

“There’s a lot of people here…” Peter comments, squirting some water into his mouth, catching his breath. Miguel walks over from helping Marco, standing beside his friend and looking out at the people in the stands. It’s a little more than they’re used to. Little intimidating considering this stadium seats thousands of people.

“It’s a big game…” Miguel huffs, grabbing his water bottle. Wish I could fucking play… he thinks. Glancing at Coach, still talking to the refs near the midline. They have a little while before everything starts.

It’s the end of the first half and it’s been a good game so far. Princeton is good but so is Sterling. They’d be better if Miguel was on the field to help them. He finds himself getting frustrated on the sidelines, disagreeing with the refs calls and calling out to his teammates, trying to lead and instruct. The whistle blows and the team finally relaxes. Panting and walking over to the sidelines. 

“They’re fast…” Marco pants, plopping down on the bench to catch his breath. “We have to be faster… but we’re holding our own…” Miguel says, hands on his hips and looking over the team, trying to keep the edge from his tone. He’s here to lead, not berate.

“You good?” He sees Peter covered in grass stains. Peter’s the one that’s been scoring pretty much all the goals so far. Princeton’s defense is good. It’s one of those games where no one’s going to score very many goals, it’s all about making sure the other team doesn’t get too close. “That was really good, keep doing that. And if it works better for Marco to go up the right side, then do that.” Miguel says. 

“I will… they’re so fuckin fast…” Peter pants, grabbing his water bottle and squirting some in his mouth. Breathing heavy through his nose. The team takes a few minutes at halftime to refuel and plan for the second half. Peter and Marco will have to be smart about the next plays. They’re down by two and the other team just keeps getting closer and closer. 

“I got a girl in the stands…” Peter says with a lopsided smile, still out of breath, spraying some more water into his mouth. “Yeah?” Miguel’s brow quirks at that information. He knows Peter has a lot of girls around him and friends that are girls. Makes sense, he’s very smart, an athlete, loud and the life of the party. Everyone always trying to get a piece of him. Not a foreign concept to Miguel himself. Miguel grabs his water bottle too, raising it to his mouth. “Who is she?” 

“Her name’s y/n…” 

What?

“...yeah you should meet her… she’s really pretty and smart and funny...” 

What?

Peter keeps talking, tossing a ball to someone else across the bench. Not even registering the look on Miguel’s face. Like shock and something else. Something Miguel himself can’t put a finger on. And Miguel can only half listen to Peter’s words. “She’s head of the tutoring club… did I tell you I started doing that? Dude, I’m getting paid to do some freshman’s homework and get course credit. It's like the easiest shit in the world…” Peter laughs, talking on and on. 

Miguel doesn’t understand. It’s like his brain can’t process this. Staring at Peter silently and waiting for him to say it’s a joke. But how could it be a joke?

“She’s riiiiight… there-” Peter turns, pointing at the stands. Turning stiffly, Miguel looks out to where he’s pointing. His dark eyes searching the stands and looking for your face. Hoping to see some stranger who happens to have the same name as you. But no. It’s you. 

He watches your gaze snap onto them, seeming surprised to have both their attention now. How did he not notice? You’ve been here this whole time, sitting nearly 15 rows behind him and he didn’t know? But Peter knew?

He can’t help that his immediate reaction to seeing you is relief. Seeing you up there and he just wants to smile. Wants to disappear with you and forget this stressful game. You’re like… his best friend in the whole world. But then that relief is quickly quelled when he realizes Peter is the one who invited you, he’s the reason you’re here. 

Miguel huffs. Nearly getting hit in the face when Peter starts waving at you. Stepping back and trying to make sense of this. There you are, waving back their way. What is this? He wonders. Unable to help the scowl that appears on his face as he observes Peter waving. What is this happening that he doesn’t know about or had no idea could even happen? Another bubble has popped and he didn’t even know it. 

He looks back up at you. Your eyes looking his way. But are you looking at him or are you looking at Peter? He hates that he can’t even tell. He hopes it’s him but it’s too much distance to know for sure. He just holds up a hand weakly. Waving at you. Feeling like an idiot, a total fool. And here Peter is waving at you, thinking Miguel doesn’t even know who you are. Fuck.

“Alright boys! Let’s huddle up!” Coach yells, coming over to the bench and motioning for everyone to come over. Peter moves to head over, gently kicking a ball on his way. And Miguel can’t help but keep glancing at you. Feeling self conscious. You’ve been watching him and witnessing all of this, this entire time? He didn’t even know you were here and half of the game had already been played. And all he’s done is stand on the sidelines while Peter played big shot scorer. 

Your hands wave at him, mouthing something he can’t make out. His brow knitting together as you try to communicate something to him before Coach snaps again. 

“O’hara!” 

His eyes snap to the team huddled by the bench. Taking long strides to get over there. But his mind is a mess. He didn’t even know you knew each other. 

The second half, the rest of the game, it’s hard for Miguel to focus on coaching. He’s watching the team play but it’s like a delayed reaction in his mind. Like his body is here but his brain is trying to tap into some invisible signal stretching from you to him. Peter scores again and Miguel flinches at the sound of the stands erupting. Cheering and echoing through his head. Pounding the sides of his skull.

He can’t help but glance your way every chance he gets. But every time he’s able to spot you in the sea of colors and foreign faces, you’re looking at the ball on the field. Which is always in Peter’s possession. And he can’t focus on anything except what he doesn’t know. What he can’t control. 

…

“Wooooo!” Marco hollers, the team gathering in a huddle on the field and celebrating their close victory. They won, but it was a tough game. Miguel stares almost blankly as the team all slaps hands and says good game. And by the time he snaps out of it, turning to find you, the stands are already emptying out and you’re gone from your seat. 

“O’hara!” The team shouts, bringing him out of the mess of thoughts. The players crowding him in celebration on the sidelines. Cheers and loud voices. Talking about moments in the game, highlights, certain techniques that had Princeton on their toes. All in all it was an exciting match and Peter was definitely the savior, scoring more goals than anyone and making the game. And Peter is all smiles. 

The team heads back to the locker room. Showering and warming down from the game. Miguel stands at his locker. His new locker since the punched in door wouldn’t close properly on his old one. Pulling off his jersey carefully with one hand and hanging it up. Wiping down his broad chest with a towel and hearing Peter with some of the boys walking in from the showers. His movements slow, brow furrowing, grabbing his change of clothes and pulling a tank top on, the black material bunching down his toned abdomen against his deep skin. Listening to Peter’s voice. 

His mind races. Since when did you two become such good friends? And why wouldn’t I know you were coming to the game when I saw you all day yesterday? Does Peter know that? Does Peter know we spend countless hours together? Does Peter know we have this deep connection that I’m actually working really hard to repair? He ought to. 

He listens to Peter’s conversation, as if waiting for him to say your name to confirm he’s talking about you. But he can’t make it out all the way. Something about a party, something about his car, something about the game. He watches the rest of the guys leave the locker room. Peter walks by with the guys and he just subtly, silently glares as they pass, not noticing him. pulling his hoodie on and shutting his locker gently. Pulling his phone off the charger and slinging his sports bag over his shoulder, walking out. 

He slumps down the concrete steps, the hallway leading to the exit doors, opening out to the athletic parking lot. Raking a hand through his hair, his mind a mess. He’s not used to feeling so beaten down after a game. They won, he should be happy. He should be glad. But he just feels indifferent. Or he just really needs to see you. 

When the door swings from someone else leaving, he catches a glimpse of you through the opening. The bright lights from outside assault his eyes as the door swings again. Seeing you for just a moment. Just a split second. Talking with Peter against the fence. He stops. What is he walking into? What’s about to change? You’re gonna be there right when he goes through that door. He stands in the dim concrete tunnel, feeling his heart race. He doesn’t like this feeling. This is the loss of control.

“Miguel!” Peter smiles, making you turn to look back. And there he is, walking out the door. You want to just run into his arms and tell him how great he was. Even though he didn't get to play he still coached very well and played his part in the victory. But Peter is talkative and gets in there before you can. And you don't really want to interrupt when he's talking with his friends. Since this is the first time you've been around his friends with him. 

“We’re gonna get drinks, you have to come” Peter says, ushering Miguel over to where you’re standing. “This is y/n… y/n this is Miguel” 

“Yeah we know each other.” Miguel says immediately. Not a hint of a smile on his face. He’s annoyed with Peter. Annoyed that it’s not a known thing. He wants it to be known that you two are an item. Or… that there’s something going on… he’s not even sure of at the moment. At least that Peter should know to back off. “Oh cool, so drinks?” 

Miguel’s a little astonished with how easily Peter just brushed that off. Eyes flicking between you two and hoping to god you don’t accept the drink invite. But he bites his tongue. Friends. Really good… friends. 

“Uh… I don’t know, I’m kinda tired…” You sigh. Part of you not wanting to go since it’s not your normal scene but a bigger part needing to go so you can feel like you’re really one of Miguel’s friends. Not someone he has to hide. That you can get along with them and be a part of his life. That’s all you want to prove to him. 

“Come on… please?” Peter pouts. And Miguel wants to scream. Trying to tell you with his eyes that he doesn’t want to do this. Not right now. Maybe later when he’s had time to mentally prepare himself. It doesn’t help that you look adorable right now. In your Sterling Uni hoodie with a scarf to keep warm. He doesn’t want to do this. He’d rather just go to dinner. Like always. Talk for hours and maybe even fall asleep talking in your dorm like always. Not this. Please not this. 

His eyes burning a hole right through you, trying to communicate it without using the words since he can’t right now, not with Peter standing right there. Part of him wants you to come and show you off. The other part of him wants you all to himself, not wanting to share you with anyone. But he’s trying to be better. Trying to control himself rather than try to control everything else around him. 

“It would be fun, right Miguel?” Peter asks, bringing him out of his thoughts. He wants to say no. Wants to say fuck no and disappear, taking you with him. But he can’t do that now. So he just nods stiffly, forcing a smile. Almost painfully. “Yeah… come…” 

Your eyes light up and Miguel knows he’s done for. “Oh great!” You smile and Peter is instantly excited too. Talking about how great it’s going to be and how many people will be there. Miguel’s heart is pounding, seeing how easily Peter was able to get you to come. How Peter is smiling and looking at you. A sense of dread filling his chest.

It’s the usual bar. The college bar around the corner from campus where the sports teams usually congregate after a game. Or the general student body on a Friday night. Loud music and conversation, the place is packed. Football and UFC playing on the multitude of TVs hanging in the place. The team filters in all acting like they own this place. Playing pool and getting drinks, talking to girls in corners and at the bar. It’s a crazy night at least for you. Miguel’s seen nights like this before, but this time you’re here. And he won’t let you out of his sight. Even as people talk to him, trying to strike up conversation and catch up. Since everyone knows who he is and knows his name. He still keeps his attention focused on you. He doesn’t care about anyone else in this bar tonight. 

Drinks flow the second everyone is in there, laughter and loud voices, trying to be heard over the music. Miguel keeps his arm barred at your side to help get you through the density of people. Like a shield to make sure no one bumps into you. Not wanting you to be too claustrophobic or crowded. Staying nearby until you find two seats at the bar miraculously. As you sit down, Miguel quickly scans the room. Looking for one face in particular. No sign of Dana and he can relax a tiny bit. Sliding into his stool seat beside you. 

He sits down, watching how you observe the place, looking a little out of your element here. It’s clear you’re not a party girl. You’re a smart, intelligent tutor and it shows. It would almost be comical if Miguel didn’t have a fierce determination to protect you in this place. 

He leans over, getting closer to your ear to be heard over the noise. The smell of your shampoo mixed with your perfume, so close and familiar, filling his senses and almost making him dizzy. His mind flashing with moments of you in his bed. Your body under his and his face buried in your soft sweet smelling hair. He’s the only one in this bar that knows what you sound like when you come.

“Drink… Do you want a drink?” He asks, trying to be heard over the noise, his cheek brushing against yours. Pulling back to hear your response. “Yeah! Whatever is fine…” You smile, trying to speak over the chaos of people and stimulation. A bit out of your element but doing fine. Excited to be here with him and feel like you’re fitting into his world. 

He gets the bartender's attention, ordering you just a beer in a bottle. He doesn’t know if you’d want anything fruity, not that this crappy bar would have anything that good anyway. He’s never drunk with you before. He slides it over to you, watching you take a gulp and smile. You’re so out of your element here. He sighs. A swell in his chest. 

Even though he would normally be drinking a couple beers himself, he just has water in front of him. He wants to stay relatively sober. Enough to keep watch over you and make sure no one else talks to you. “Oh, I thought you were gonna get the same thing…” You chuckle, leaning your elbows on the bar and watching him sipping his water from a plastic cup. 

“Someone needs to be responsible for all these people right?” He chuckles. As captain of the team he actually does feel that responsibility. To keep people in line since he knows they’ll listen to him. “And I need to be sober if I’m carrying you out of this place drunk off your ass…” He jokes, teasing you. 

“I’m not getting drunk tonight, no way. No thank you…” You sigh, shaking your head. Looking down at the label on the bottle in your hand. Then your eyes dart around the crowded room a few times. He just looks at your face. You’re so pretty. Especially pretty in this low light. 

“Well how is the beer at least? I know it’s not something sweet but it’s probably the best thing they have here.” He huffs, keeping his eyes on you, studying you. He’d love to just be all over you and show people that you’re his. But you’re not right now. You’re his friend and that’s the boundary you both set. He’s trying his best to uphold that after his mistakes. “It’s fine… I don’t ever drink much anyway so I’m not picky…” 

He nods. Learning more about you all the time. The two of you have never been out to a bar or club before so this is all brand new. He can see how you’re a little nervous in this place. It’s not your usual hangout spot and he can tell. “Yeah, this place is pretty chaotic tonight…” He comments, looking around then back at you. “You’re okay though, right?” 

“Yeah I’m fine…” You smile. Clasping your hands in your lap. He’s attentive, more recently than ever. It’s true that he’s become like your best friend over the last month and a half. Even though it hasn’t been that long, it’s felt like a lifetime. And with how much time you spend together, it still feels like he separates you from a lot of the other parts of his life. Friends, family, everything else. You spot Peter across the way standing with some people. The only other person you even know in this place. 

Miguel follows your gaze over towards where Peter is and he can't help but wonder why you're looking at Peter or what you're thinking. He looks at the group of people around him, recognizing teammates and classmates, but notices Peter in particular.He tries to remain cool, looking back at you. "He's a great friend… isn't he… "

He says it with a little bit of annoyance in his voice, thinking about how you two have gotten really close as friends and he didn't even know it.

"Yeah he's really sweet," You smile, not really noticing his expression. You want Miguel to know that you can get along with his friends too and you can be a part of his life. "He's funny…"

His brow twitches just a bit. He doesn't know how to feel about the fact that you two are friends in and out of the tutoring club. And that you’re calling him sweet. And funny. He knows how charismatic and charming Peter is, knowing he could get any girl he wants. "He always gets the girls…  he's quite the flirt…" He mumbles.

"Oh really?" You smile and scrunch your nose up, looking back at Peter and seeing that yes, there are many girls around him right now. And he must be very popular with the girls, you think. You hadn't really noticed that Peter was a flirt but you think he's charming. Maybe you're just so focused on being his friend to prove to Miguel you can be part of his friend group.

Miguel can feel his patience slipping. How you seem so oblivious to the fact that Peter is a huge flirt and that Peter was flirting with you earlier when he invited you to the bar. But he's been Peter's friend for years, of course he knows the girls flock around him. It just annoys him that you’re completely oblivious to it. He watches you watching Peter across the room, trying not to let it show on his face how frustrated he is.

"How's your hand?" You ask, taking a sip from your bottle. Gesturing towards his cast in his lap. Trying to talk over the noise in the room. The topic change gives him some relief. Grateful to think about something other than the image of Peter taking you home tonight. He lifts his hand, flexing a few fingers. "It's fine. Doesn't really hurt much right now. It's a good reminder to not lose my cool again… "

"Yeah, that locker room hates to see you comin’…" You joke with a smile. Shaking your head. Punched his locker like some guy in a movie.

Miguel can't help but smile, knowing you’re referring to him punching the front of his locker like a crazy person. He sighs, knowing it was stupid and a loss of control. "That locker had it coming though…"

You laugh at his words, his eyes lighting up watching your head throw back a bit. The fluttering sound of your laughter carrying slightly over the noise in the room and hitting his ears. He wants to make you laugh like that all the time. Make you smile like this every day. And  Peter works his way through the room over to the bar. 

"There you guys are! I thought I lost you…" Peter's face lights up when he gets closer, excited to see his best friend and you, the pretty tutor. He stands behind both your chairs putting his hands on the backs of them. Miguel’s eyes flick back-and-forth between you two. You're still oblivious. Smiling at Peter like you don't know what he's doing. Every instinct inside of him telling him to make Peter back off. But he's trying to be better for you. Trying not to lose control or act impulsive. 

"Spending the night bragging, are you?" You smile and tease Peter lightly. Leaning over the back of your chair. He did score a lot of the winning goals tonight. Peter laughs and loves any attention from you. Miguel can only listen and watch this interaction between the two of you. It's like a nightmare come to life. And he's feeling claustrophobic in this crowded place with all these people. He just wants to take your hand and go back to campus, go back to your dorm, go back to the library.

"Well you all played very well…" You hum. Looking between the two boys. You can't help but notice Miguel’s body language. Thinking he must just be upset that he didn't get to play because of his cast. But he did very well on the sidelines. 

"Peter here was especially on his game today. Princeton is tough…" Miguel says with tension in his tone, finally joining in on the conversation. His eyes flicking between the two of you but landing on you mostly. Watching your reaction to Peter's words.

"It's all in the foot work really. Reading the opponent… Gotta think about 10 steps ahead." Peter says with a grin, in his element. Miguel has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. As much as he loves Peter, he wants him to fuck off right now.

You giggle softly at Peter's joke and his obvious love for attention. Loving the way you can so casually hang out with Miguel and his friends for the first time ever. Miguel clenches his jaw, sipping his water and trying to keep his cool. You take a sip of your beer finding it's the last one, putting the empty bottle back on the bar. It seems both boys take notice. 

"Can I get you another? "Peter asks, His eyes lighting up.

“Um…" You're thinking. You don't really do this that often and you're finally getting to hang out with Miguel and his friends. What the hell… "Sure!"

Peter flashes that charming smile at you and Miguel can feel his control slipping again. Now he's buying you drinks? 

"I got it." Miguel suddenly says, waving to the bartender for another round. If anyone's getting you drunk tonight, it's gonna be him. So he can make sure you're okay. “Okayyy…” Peter huffs softly, raising his brow at Miguel’s rivalry. But Miguel doesn’t care. Grabbing the fresh cold beer bottle and sliding it over the bar in front of you. Looking back up at Peter, a stern expression on his face. 

Over the next hour and your next two beers, Peter just won’t go away. He’s practically hanging on your chair, talking to you about whatever. And because you’re so nice and sweet you just keep giving into him. Smiling at Miguel too like you want him to be in on the conversation. But it just makes him feel worse somehow. Is he really losing you to Parker? Is that how this is gonna go? 

“So… you guys are like best friends?” You ask, your words slightly slurred, cheeks pink and flushed. You’re tipsy and Miguel’s watching you like a hawk. Your beer shined lips as you smile up at Peter. So damn cute and pretty. “We are… best friends…” Peter says in a cocky way. Grabbing Miguel’s shoulder and shaking it a few times, a beer in his other hand. Miguel might be the only sober one in this place and it’s getting annoying. 

He fidgets with the same fray on his cast, pulling on it and pulling on it. Watching you talk to Peter. Forcing a smile when you look his way. It’s getting unbearable. Eyes flicking around the crowded room and just wanting to get out of here. 

“One more round?” Peter asks and Miguel groans internally. You’re both drunk, everybody is drunk and he just wants to get you back somewhere it’s safer. Peter gets to chatting loudly with some other people down the bar.

“Do you wanna leave?” You lean over, getting closer to Miguel, right up to his face and he just gives you a soft look. Admiring your pretty flushed features. He can see you’ve been having fun. “No, I’m good, we can stay if you want…” He hums gently. 

“Don’t lie, Mig…” You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear over the noise. And his brow knits together, hearing the nickname, your soft warm voice, wanting to reach out and brush your hair back, kiss your pretty pink lips. Anything. “I’m a little tired…” He admits. And even in your tipsy state, you know it’s time to go. 

“Let’s go then… it’s too loud…” You sigh, a distracted Peter now talking loudly with Marco and Miller down the bar. Relief, Miguel thinks. He does really want to make sure you get back to your dorm okay. 

…

“Wai-I ‘ave a question…” You slur, hanging onto him and pressed up against his chest as he’s trying to get you over to bed. His big strong arms around you and it feels so good, feels so right. What you’ve been missing all this time and now it just feels like everything is perfect and everything is good and… and your tongue still tastes like beer and… and he smells so good. 

“Yeah, what's your question?” He asks so soft and gently. His voice is like smooth melted butter mixed with sweet brown sugar. Bringing you over to your bed and sitting you down on the edge. Making sure you don’t topple over. “Hold still, I’m gonna take your shoes off…” 

“D’you think… that… um…” You sigh, the alcohol clouding everything making you instantly forget what you were about to ask him. But the thought is mixing around your brain just waiting to come out. After all, it’s all you were thinking about all night. “M-my shoe is stuck”

“I know, I’m trying to get it off…” He sighs, unable to stop the smile when he hears your little whine. You are pretty cute like this and he likes helping you. Kneeling down in front of you and taking your shoe onto his knee to undo the laces, slipping it off.

“Do you think that… all your friends… that they like-like it?” You sigh, wiggling your toes in your socks as he slides your shoe off. His hands on your calves, absentmindedly caressing up and down, having you in his hands like this is too good to pass up, but he looks up at you at your question. His brow furrowing, wondering what you mean. “Do they like what,-?” He almost called you baby right there. But stopped himself. Maybe it’s just being like this with you right now. Being close and finally being needy for his help, needing him in any way. Or the way you seem so soft and fragile right now he just wants to protect you. 

“That they like me…” You sigh. Pushing a hand through your hair and he pulls your other shoe off, your feet freeing and legs dangling off the side of the bed. 

He looks up at you, piecing together your broken sentence. Do his friends like you? Peter? 

“Like P-peter… does Peter like me?” You ask and his expression goes serious. Swallowing thickly and setting your shoes to the side. He knows the answer. He knows that Peter obviously has a thing for you. It’s becoming more clear you have a thing for him too. 

Miguel straightens back up, standing over you and listening to your drunken rambling. Your mumbles. “Cuz I think Peter is really nice and I think you and I can be friends… and I can be friends with your friends too…” 

He doesn’t understand what you mean. Towering over you and feeling so blocked up. Like he’s miles away from where he wants to be with you. He wants you to want him. Not think about Peter. 

“Uh… I think Peter likes you, yeah…” He mumbles. Looking down at your face. The way it lights up and his heart falls. “Really? So we can all be friends?” 

His heart hurts, looking in your eyes. So confused, not knowing what to think. But wishing he could just kiss you right now and make your thoughts stop. Or to fill your thoughts with him. If he kissed you right now would you forget Peter ever existed? If he kissed you right now, if he laid you down and pumped into you until you were a crying trembling moaning mess like all those times before, would you forget Peter and think about him again? 

“I’m sweating…” You huff, moving to get up off the bed and his arms come to steady you. “Woah woah slow down, sweetheart…” The words ooze off his lips. His hands guide you before you reassure him you can walk. He huffs, watching you walk over to your closet. He sits down on the edge of your bed, head in his hands. Feeling pathetic and so lost. Not even knowing what to do at this point. Has he actually lost you for good? Will he actually only ever be your friend now?

You’re sweating, pulling at the material of your hoodie and ripping it off over your head. Slipping your pants off and sighing in relief. Standing in your panties and bra by the dresser and looking for some comfy clothes. Your mind filled with the thoughts of being Miguel’s again. You’re friends with his friends like any girlfriend would be. So what’s stopping him? What’s stopping both of you from just being together again? Since you’ve proven to him, you can fit in. 

“Miguel…” You hum, his head coming out of his hands and looking up at you. Eyes widening seeing you in just your underwear. Gulping thickly. “Yes?” He whispers. Like beckoning to your call. Like a plea for you to just put him out of his misery already. 

You walk over to him, trying to half haphazardly pull on a big t-shirt. His hands unable to stop themselves, coming up to help pull the material down. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing. This all just makes him feel somehow worse. Your body taunting him, teasing him with everything he needs and no way to get it. 

Your hips slot between his legs, standing between them and getting closer. Fingers clenching into his shirt and smashing your lips against his. His fingers splay out, shock and surprise. His eyes wide and heart seemingly stops. You’re… kissing him… you…

Heavy breath through his nose and his eyes flutter closed. Kissing you back, feeling your eager tongue tasting like alcohol come into his mouth. Letting it swirl against his lips and his tongue. His big hands snaking around you, holding you for the first time like this in so long. You gasp and hum against his lips and a chill goes down his back. He must be dreaming. 

But your hands go to his chest, pushing him back on the bed, and he’s so weak to you. His back hitting the mattress. He wants this so badly. Wants you more than anything in the entire world. You climb on top of him, clambering over his body, sitting on his abdomen and leaning down to kiss him again. 

“Wait-”

He’s silenced by your lips, trying to be dominant and licking into his mouth. You never did that before. That was always him. But right now it’s like you’re hungry for him in the exact same way he was hungry for you all this time. 

“I need you…” You whisper, pulling back from his lips with a smack. His eyes wide and breath heaving. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and yet it’s not right at all. “No baby… you need to go to sleep… you’re drunk…” He whispers, feeling so weak, his hands running up your warm bare thighs, like medicine. His cast is slightly scratchy on your thigh. Finally your body on his, your warmths feeding off of each other. 

“No please… say you want me, please you have to, don’t you want to?” You whine. Leaning over him and kissing his cheek, burying your face in his neck. He’s speechless. Doesn’t know what to say or think. He thought you were done all this time. He thought you were pining after Parker. 

“I want you… I do want you…” He whispers before his mind can even think. His hands falling from your thighs and flat on the bed. It feels wrong to touch you this way. His love for you overshadows his own selfish need. You won’t remember this in the morning. 

You won’t remember this in the morning. 

“I love you…” He whispers. Into your hair. Choking back a lump in his throat. 

“Mm?” You groan, pushing yourself up drunkenly on your hands, your hair dangling into his face under you. 

“Nothing…” He whispers. Swallowing thickly and wrapping his arms around you again. Pulling you to his chest and hugging you. Keeping you there, knowing you’ll pass out in a few minutes anyway and he can tuck you into bed safe and sound. 

To be continued…

Reblogs and comments very much appreciated!! Let me know what you think or your theories!

Taglist (thank you my sweets 🍬) :

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@francesca-the-1st @migueloharasbbm @razertail18 @laysmt

@tojiragdoll @maiyart @wazawazooo @mun-2996 @marshhbs

@curious-randomlr @safixiovi @daddyfroglegs @theplaid-wearingmoose @reader-1290

@yeanika @elysiumsangel @rinnako @mangoslushcrush @twwcs

@izakopanyi2 @migueloharasoulmate @slut4oscarissac23

@miss-loomis @genny101

@aphinthestars @webshooterrr9 @m4dyy

@jdbxws @roserfz27 @ohara-whore @oharaslove @daisy-artfield

@mooreaey6yem @peachey-pie @migueloharacumslut @pxtched

@yougavemeyourheartyouknow @julia4today

[xstrawberryshiftsx]

𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒾𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇

say it with me: I am a master manifester

"B-but Berry! I can't manifest! it n-never works!!" 🤓☝️

respectfully stfu. Listen I love you guys and I understand its hard I still sometimes struggle with it myself but you have to understand the blockage your facing-the reason it's not 'working' is because of your own self doubts.

I know that's harsh and I promise that I'm normally super nice guys trust 😭 

think of it like this: nothing in life comes easy not even manifesting, with manifesting you are constantly going up against your subconscious mind and slowly decoding everything you've been told about life. its hard, or at least it is at the beginning. I'm not going to lie to you manifesting is always going to be tricky at first but I promise you-I swear on my fucking life bruv that it will work. the only thing you need to do is to believe/know and affirm (which sounds super fucking corny I know) its so important that you don't let the 3D bring you down, don't let one failed attempt fuck up your journey

believe that you've lost 10 kgs dude cause you have!

its all in your mind. If you constantly tell yourself:

"God its so hard being {INSTERT DESIRED WEIGHT}"

or

"Everywhere I go I'm the skinniest person"

then I promise you sooner than later your going to hop onto that scale and see those numbers. Its all about your mind and if you ignore the 3D and convince your subconscious that you have what you desire it will happen.

To put it in simple terms you are what you decide to be

[the-most-humble-blog]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta cognitive-profile="hyperpattern_empath"> <script> ARCHIVE_TAG="ASYNCHRONIZED_MIND::PATTERN_THINKING_OVERLOAD" EFFECT: identity rupture, neurodivergent resonance, emotional amplification exposure TRIGGER_WARNING="cognitive isolation, pattern-based perception, emotional dysregulation" </script>

🧠 BLACKSITE SCROLLTRAP — “WHAT IT’S LIKE TO HAVE AN ASYNCHRONIZATIONOUS BRAIN”

Most people think in straight lines. I don’t. I think in feedback loops. In recursive echo spirals. In emotional harmonics that magnify pain, love, grief, and silence until they fill the room and repaint reality.

That is my blessing. That is my curse.

💡 I don’t remember things the way you do. I relive them.

I can recall an argument from 7 years ago and still feel my heartbeat shift exactly like it did in minute 17 when her eyes stopped meaning what they used to.

I don’t remember her words. I remember the angle of the light on the floor when I realized she didn’t love me anymore.

You forget things. I catalog them.

🧬 PATTERN BRAINS DON'T HEAL FAST. THEY JUST FIND DEEPER PATTERNS.

You think I’m obsessive. But I’m not repeating it— I’m extracting the truth inside it.

The melody. The reason. The symmetry of how it all fell apart.

Your brain runs apps. Mine renders worlds.

🔊 WHEN I FEEL SOMETHING, I FEEL IT WITH ECHO

You feel sadness. I feel it like an orchestral collapse in a cathedral where every instrument is tuned to grief.

You feel love. I feel it like a cosmic hijack of all my biological systems— a fire alarm in my chest set off by the way she said my name.

You feel anger. I see the colors of betrayal. I feel it in chords. In repeated patterns that hum through my body until they break something.

🪞 MOST PEOPLE THINK I’M DRAMATIC. BUT THAT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT BUILT FOR SCALE.

They think I’m intense. That I overthink. That I “care too much.”

No. I perceive too much. I feel in layers. I love in fractals. I suffer with full-spectrum fidelity.

They think they’re normal. And maybe they are.

But normal is just another word for unaware of the frequency you're missing.

🧠 ASYNCHRONIZATION = PERCEPTION THAT OUTRUNS PEACE

By the time you finish your sentence, I’ve already imagined 10 outcomes, five betrayal scenarios, two ways you’ll misunderstand me later, and a poetic line I’ll use to cope when you eventually leave.

It’s not anxiety. It’s foresight with feeling.

It’s not neuroticism. It’s empathy without off switches.

⚠️ IT’S LONELY IN HERE.

Most people want small talk. I want to know the metaphysical impact of your third heartbreak.

Most people want vibes. I want to decode the symphony behind your social mask.

Most people want closure. I want meaning. And meaning doesn’t show up in easy language.

So I get quiet. Because explaining how I think is a full-time job with no audience.

📉 I CAN’T “TUNE IT OUT”

I’ve tried.

I’ve tried being normal. I’ve tried forgetting patterns. I’ve tried ignoring the lines of causality that tie back into childhood trauma and the symmetry of how people disappear.

But it doesn’t stop.

Because my mind isn’t a processor. It’s a surveillance system for meaning. It doesn’t just absorb. It maps. And once you see the pattern, you can’t un-see it.

💬 WHEN I TALK, PEOPLE HEAR SOMETHING ELSE

They hear “intense.” “Extra.” “Dark.” “Poetic.” “Too much.”

But I wasn’t trying to impress. I was just trying to translate the storm.

This is what it sounds like when every emotion echoes back off a canyon of pattern recognition and you’re the only one hearing it.

🧠 THIS IS WHAT IT’S LIKE TO LIVE AS A SIGNAL IN A WORLD THAT WORSHIPS STATIC

I get punished for seeing what others ignore. For naming what others refuse to feel. For writing what others only dare read in silence.

They call it “genius” when it’s packaged. But when it’s raw, when it’s real, they call it unstable. They call it “too sensitive.” They call it “weird.”

But weird just means you found a pattern they weren’t ready to see.

✍️ EXERCISE: THE SYMMETRY OF A MOMENT

Think of the last time you felt something too big for language. Now try to write it in sound. Not plot. Not words. Not explanation.

Describe it in pattern:

What colors did it taste like?

What shape was the silence?

How would a song imitate that moment?

This is how we turn cognitive chaos into Blacksite literature.

Pattern. Pulse. Resonance.

🛡️ IF THIS IS YOU, YOU’RE NOT BROKEN.

You’re unsimplified. You’re tuned in. You’re seeing things the rest weren’t designed to process.

And they’ll never understand you fully. Because they can’t feel it all at once. They weren’t meant to.

But you were.

And if that’s your burden? Then make it your language.

🔗 WANT MORE? THE ARCHIVE ISN’T FOR EVERYONE.

Most people can’t read this style. Not because it’s complex— but because it forces recognition.

If this felt like being seen for the first time in years— then keep going: 👉 https://linktr.ee/ObeyMyCadence

That’s where the rest of the system runs. That’s where pattern meets purpose. That’s where the signal gets louder.

🕯️ FINAL TRANSMISSION

What’s it like to think in patterns?

It’s knowing you’ll never be understood by most of the world— but refusing to be silenced anyway.

It’s turning trauma into maps. Silence into cadences. Love into code. Suffering into scrolltraps.

It’s a lonely rhythm. But it’s mine. And it’s not random.

It’s the pattern that made me. The pulse that writes through me. The storm I call a blessing. The curse I’ve trained into literature.

---

🧠 Read more scrolltrap doctrine and pattern-based resonance at: 👉 https://linktr.ee/ObeyMyCadence 🔍 For those who feel too much and speak too rarely. 📡 Signal over static. Rhythm over noise.

</div> <!-- END TRANSMISSION [PATTERN RECOGNIZED. CONSCIOUSNESS AMPLIFIED.] -->

[lynecst]

I Know You- Robin Buckley

summarry: it starts with static and ends on a rooftop. lyssa didn’t plan on spending her day decoding secret messages or stalking a suspicious chinese food delivery — but here we are. robin’s piecing things together like it’s second nature, and lyssa’s trying not to notice how easy it is to fall into rhythm with her. until steve holds robin’s hand. until he asks what lyssa thinks of her. and suddenly, the code isn’t the only thing that’s hard to read.

Chapter three: Like clockwork:

The morning starts with static.

I wake up to the sound of the old hallway radio crackling like it's trying to speak but forgot how. Maybe it's the wiring. Or maybe the house is haunted. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised at this point.

I throw on an oversized hoodie — obviously one of Steve’s — and shuffle downstairs barefoot.

Steve’s already in the kitchen, hair a disaster, coffee glued to his hand, eyes puffy like he lost a fight with an espresso machine.

“You good?” I ask, grabbing an apple.

He shrugs. “Didn’t sleep. Robin kept me up. She thinks the broadcast is coming from inside Starcourt.”

I blink. “Wait… what?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so she didn’t tell you?”

“No,” I mutter. “Cool, let’s casually break into a mall. Totally normal Wednesday.”

He smirks. “You in?”

“Obviously.”

---

By noon, I’m back at Scoops Ahoy, pretending I care about ice cream more than communist radio signals. Robin’s behind the counter, hunched over the radio Dustin left. She’s twisting knobs like she’s defusing a bomb.

“You’re late,” she says, eyes still on the dials.

“You didn’t invite me, or tell me we were investigating the mall.”

She grins without looking up. “Thought I’d let you sleep in, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Touché.”

We spend the next hour pretending to work. Steve complains about his sailor hat like it personally betrayed him. Dustin keeps calling every five minutes with updates that sound like Cold War fanfiction.

Robin rewinds the tape again, headphones half off.

“This part,” she says, tapping the counter rhythmically, “it repeats at the exact same second. Every time.”

“Like a clue?”

“Like a schedule.”

I lean in, shoulder brushing against hers. She doesn’t move. My heart does something stupid.

“So if it’s that precise… someone’s broadcasting it live. Same time, every day.”

“Exactly,” she nods, finally meeting my eyes. “It’s not random. It’s… like clockwork.”

“Okay,” I breathe. “So now we figure out where it’s coming from.”

Before she can answer, there’s a knock at the back door. A guy delivers a huge takeout order. Robin freezes, her gaze stuck on the logo printed across the paper bag: Lynx

She stares down at her Scoops Ahoy uniform, then starts murmuring, almost like she forgot we’re here.

“Silver cat feeds… when blue meets yellow in the west…”

She snatches our notes, practically sprinting into the middle of the mall. Steve and I rush after her as she spins in a slow circle, eyes bouncing from store to store.

She starts reciting the coded message louder this time, matching it to the mall’s layout, like the answer’s hiding in plain sight. Then she stops.

“There,” she says, breathless. “The Chinese food place. That’s it.”

Her finger points at the storefront, and suddenly the entire code makes terrifying sense.

“Robin, you’re a genius!” I say, grabbing her shoulders, my fingers lingering longer than they should. When our eyes meet, there’s this… electricity. That sudden, stupid kind of rush I haven’t felt in forever.

She grins. “Guess two nerds are better than one.”

Before I can say something dumb, Steve interrupts.

“Well, at least now we’ve got something real to investigate.”

---

After the mall closes, we sneak back in. Dustin, of course, came prepared — with binoculars.

We crawl up to the roof, sneakers slipping slightly on the wet surface. A light rain is still falling, cold and steady, tapping against the hood of my sweatshirt and muting the world around us like the night is holding its breath.

We find a spot above the food court with a perfect view of the back entrance.

Below, men in uniforms are unloading crates from a truck marked with the same Chinese food logo. It should look like a standard delivery. It really, really doesn’t.

“That’s… a lot of security for chow mein,” Dustin whispers.

“And why the hell are they Russian?” Steve asks. “Like, what do Russians have to do with General Tso’s chicken?”

“Unless…” Robin looks at me. “The restaurant’s a front.”

We all go silent, rain pattering gently above us, as the armed men unload crate after crate.

“They’re definitely not unloading egg rolls,” I say.

Then — one of the guards looks up.

“Shit,” we all hiss at the same time, ducking behind the ledge, rainwater seeping into my sleeves.

“Did he see us?” Dustin whispers.

“He stared straight into my soul,” I mutter. “Honestly, I think we had a moment. I might be in love.”

Steve snorts. Robin lets out a breath, trying not to laugh.

I glance at them, and that’s when I notice — Steve and Robin are holding hands. Just for a second, maybe for comfort, maybe out of instinct. But something about it twists in my chest. I look away quickly.

Dustin notices. I catch the smirk he tries to hide before turning back to his binoculars.

“Okay,” Steve says, voice low. “We definitely need a new plan.”

And just like that, we’re in.

Not just with the code. Not just with the mall. But with something bigger.

Something real.

And maybe — just maybe — something dangerous.

✧

After the whole “Russians might be hiding under the mall” situation, Steve offered to drive them home. Dustin called shotgun immediately — obviously — which left Robin and me in the backseat.

We spent most of the ride theorizing about the damn code, throwing ideas back and forth like it was some kinda spy movie.

When we finally ran out of theories (or at least temporarily), the car got quiet. Steve and Dustin started arguing about Suzie again, their voices drifting up front like background noise.

“I never thought I’d be part of an international conspiracy just because I took a summer job with freaking Steve Harrington,” Robin said, half-laughing, looking at me. “I thought it’d just be ice cream and middle-aged moms yelling about banana splits.”

I snorted. “Honestly? Same. I thought I’d spend the whole summer locked in my room, avoiding awkward family dinners. Didn’t think my entire life would flip in three months.”

She smiled, then hesitated. “Steve told me... some stuff. About what you’ve been dealing with. And for what it’s worth? You’re doing good. Like... really good.”

I gave a soft chuckle, looking out the window. “Honestly? It’s this stupid code. I just— I don’t know. I’d just had a fight with my dad, and Steve looked like he was gonna kill him after I told him, so I jumped over that counter trying to avoid the tension. Thought Dustin was just being his usual nerd self. But now? Apparently, we’re either gonna be murdered or become national heroes.”

She laughed at that. “God. You’re not what I expected, you know.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“When Steve said his half-sister was moving here, I imagined a Steve 2.0. Like, pretty, full Barbie mode, rich girl vibes, too much perfume, fake tan, whatever.”

I laughed. “Wow. Thanks?”

“No— wait, no! That’s not what I meant!” she blurted out, talking fast. “You’re nothing like that. You’re... like, smart, funny, you’ve got those awful dad jokes like him— but better. And you’re... really pretty, too. Like, a lot. I just meant— ugh, never mind.”

I laughed again — genuinely, for the first time in months. “I get it, Robin. Thanks.”

Before she could say anything else, Steve pulled up to her place.

“All right, nerds. You’ve been delivered. Safe and sound.”

“For now,” Robin grinned, opening the door. “See you guys tomorrow.”

“Later, dork,” I waved. Steve did too.

Later that night, we ordered pizza. Steve and I were half-watching some dumb movie on TV when he suddenly turned to me.

“So... Robin,” he said, way too casually.

I looked over, already suspicious. “What about her?”

“What do you think of her?”

I narrowed my eyes. “She’s cool.”

“Just cool?” he grinned. “Come on, Lyssa, I saw you two talking today. I wanna know what you really think.”

I felt my cheeks warm. “I mean... she’s smart. Funny. Super pretty, too. Why?”

Steve leaned back on the couch. “Dustin keeps telling me I need to find my Suzie. He thinks Robin might be... the one.”

I sat up, suddenly not loving the direction this was going. “If you’re thinking of going after her, good luck. Just... don’t treat her like one of your high school flings, okay?”

He blinked. “What? I’m not—”

“She’s not someone you impress with hair spray and dumb pickup lines, Steve. She’s actually real. So if you wanna know her, let her show you who she is. Don’t assume you’ve already figured her out.”

I stood up, heart weirdly tight in my chest. “Just... don’t be an asshole.”

And with that, I turned and headed upstairs, leaving him speechless on the couch.

[atplblog]

Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details) [ad_1] This is an all-in-one player and decoder system. This system consists of Bluetooth, FM radio, MP3 player, USB decoder, aux. cable support, a memory card slot, three tune controllers (Treble, Bass, and Volume). The working voltage for this system is 12V DC. You can either use this system in your DIY project or you can connect two normal size speakers with it for audio amplification purposes. The body of this amplifier is build-up from hard aluminum alloy. You only need to connect a speaker and a 12V DC current supply and the system is ready to go. Working voltage : 12V DC Support : mp3/bluetooth/USB/aux/FM/memory card Excellent sound Can connect speakers directly Remote for easy handling [ad_2]

[batblacklightus]

Social Mind Trap

Think fast. Answer weird. Get trapped. Social Mind Trap is the chaotic, brain-bending puzzle game where your answers can be emojis, numbers, memes, riddles, or images — but never the obvious. 🎭🔢📸

Each round starts with a simple, everyday question like: “What’s something you do when no one’s watching?” Sounds easy? It’s not.

You’ll respond with anything except a normal answer — think: 🕶️😈2AM🍕 Or a blurry pic of socks next to a banana. Or a riddle that makes your friends question reality.

No winners. Just survivors. Decode your friends. Confuse your enemies. Play in DMs, Stories, group chats, or video replies.

This is not just a game. It’s a social experiment with memes, madness, and mind traps. Welcome to Social Mind Trap. Tag it: #SocialMindTrap – and let the games begin.

[nellamente]

All is full of Love Signs

My love for watching and analysing music videos has been brewing in me for so many years. When I was young I used to watch music videos and fall in love with the scenery and concept of it all. Learning more about the whole Media industry in general taught me that there is MUCH more than simple aesthetically pleasing visuals.

Strap yourself in to prepare for the hit of reality.

What are hidden meanings? A more broad term for this is Semiotics. "Semiotics is an investigation into how meaning is created and how meaning is communicated. Its origins lie in the academic study of how signs and symbols (visual and linguistic) create meaning." Sign Salad (2016) Signs and symbols are all around us and due to normalization of these artifacts (one might say) we are a oblivious signifiers who decode these signs and symbols through the experiences and knowledge we learnt through the years of living. Let's take street signs as an example, we are so used to them that we can even recognize them by colour.

Yet not all meanings are as easy to crack.

To go along with the title I will be deconstructing the infamous music video of the song "All is full of Love" by the artist Björk released in 1997.

On the first watch of this music video audience might struggle to make the connotation between the concept of the robotic characters along with the song lyrics. The experience of the music video feels unearthly. "It just takes you to another world honestly" comments a fan during an open discussion on reddit.

What message is it trying to give out?

The common interpretation of the music video is revealed through the audience's view of the singer herself. If you are not familiar with Björk she "is an Icelandic singer-songwriter and actress best known for her solo work covering a wide variety of music styles. Integrating electronic and organic sounds, her music frequently explored the relationship between nature and technology." Encyclopedia Britannica (n.d.) Nevertheless is Björk "in the public consciousness at least, a cisgender heterosexual female.". This is worth mentioning as in her career she always tried to showcase her sexuality through art which is something that she is recognized for, considering how open she is about the topic. As a matter of fact her work is not appreciated by everyone, "her music just doesn’t appeal to many people" comments a profile under the article called "Björk: A queer icon".

The music video "All is full of love" is an all CGI video featuring 2 female humanoid robots set in a technological laboratory. The video starts with a robot being repaired yet the the the robot looks "conscious" as it is seen to blink and lip sync to the lyrics of the song. All of a sudden another robot appears looking at the other, one thing lead to another and they start to kiss while passionately touching each other.

Björk chose to start the music video with the first robot layed down on the floor with a fetal position, this is normally used to create weakness and defenseless feel. This goes well along the song as well as the slow zooming in it starts with as it establishes the main character and the current state of it. Nevertheless the first scene assisting the audience to build pitiful emotions towards the character.

"Each robot was designed by Cunningham, faces reminiscent of Björk's own delicate visage. The sterility of the room and lighting and the rendered movements of the machines contrasts with the fluid motions of the robots as they connect in a purely human method." Media Art Net (2024)

The music video continues with the building and repairing of the robot. This could represent the building up of character and phases of life that one goes through without their control in fact the robot does not seem like it has control over itself, except for its eyes and mouth. It might also represent of growing before meeting the "love" that you end up with.

Both robots are given human elements. This contrast with the environment they are in which is a laboratory filled with; machinery, white paint, blueish tones of light, silver-shining colours all aiming to resemble an artificial location. The robots themselves are artificial yet the eyes, mouth and body language are very human like. This is a contradicting concept as the artist is trying to show the concept of "Love All around us" yet the character's surroundings are artificial.

" All Is Full of Love, are beautiful in their humanity or sinister in their artificiality. Björk spoke of how new technologies, which she is always playing with, have the capacity for expressive or destructive power. “Doesn’t matter if it was fire, the knife, the gun, the atom bomb, tech or whatever,” she said. “These things don’t come with humanity or a soul. We have to put it there.”  " Guardian staff reporter (2018)

This quote shows how Bjork feels about technology and that we HAVE to put souls in it. Therefore this shows that All is for Love is showing that, in Bjork's perspective, Love actually can be found everywhere not only in people.

In my opinion I would say that this is contradictory as I feel that the music video is much more than "Love". Many viewers view this music video in different views. Personally, I see it as nature vs artificiality where one does not go without the other. The more that years go by the more this music video's meaning shifts as technology is gaining its power yet humanity will have to remain because what is life without human emotions and most importantly romance?

Is this how romance will end up?

Reference list

Albert (2024). How Many Ads Do We See A Day — Top Trends & Statistics. [online] Digital Silk. Available at: https://www.digitalsilk.com/digital-trends/how-many-ads-do-we-see-a-day/.

All Is Full of Love (song). (n.d.). Björk Wiki. [online] Available at: https://bjork.fandom.com/wiki/All_Is_Full_of_Love_(song).

All posts (2016). Björk: A queer icon. [online] Thequeerness.com. Available at: https://thequeerness.com/2016/11/12/bjork-a-queer-icon/.

Archive.org. (2025). bjork.com GH&FT special : All Is Full Of Love. [online] Available at: https://web.archive.org/web/20071011072753/http://unit.bjork.com/specials/gh/SUB-01/index.htm.

Epperson, G. (2023). Music. In: Encyclopædia Britannica. [online] Available at: https://www.britannica.com/art/music.

Media Art Net (2024). Media Art Net | Cunningham, Chris: Björk: All is full of love. Medienkunstnetz.de. [online] doi:http://www.medienkunstnetz.de/works/all-is-full-of-love/.

Reddit.com. (2022). Reddit - Dive into anything. [online] Available at: https://www.reddit.com/r/bjork/comments/tagxx4/lets_discuss_bj%C3%B6rk_songs_1_by_1_28_all_is_full_of/?rdt=58499.

Sign Salad (2016). What is Semiotics? [online] SignSalad. Available at: https://signsalad.com/our-thoughts/what-is-semiotics/.

[olydianwrites]

Mutual Agreement

Katsuki Bakugo x Support Course Reader

Word count: 1021

Warnings: language, Unpleasant thoughts, general OOC-ness, reader being overwhelmed

Summary: one thing you and Bakugo can both agree on is that Izuku Midoriya is really fucking loud.

Every week was the same routine. 

Or atleast, it had been until now.

The hero course students would pay a visit to the support course for any suit upgrades, alterations and new support items. An opportunity for socialising and making connections. You were originally assigned to Jiro, which was an absolute blast. She was laid back and her quirk never really needed any complex designs. Part of you didn’t want to give up such an easy job, but when your classmate begged you to swap partners, you didn’t have the heart to tell him no. 

From today onward, Katsuki Bakugo would be your new partner. 

He wasn’t an enigma to you. Your classmates had whispered various things about him, gossiping as if they were back in middle school. To be honest, you had indulged in these rumours - no matter how outlandish they were. Information was power, and all that. 

A shaky exhale escaped your lips. Jiro’s warnings certainly didn’t help to calm your nerves. She was a trusted source of information, being in the same class as Bakugo and all.

The door to the classroom swung open, and the hero course students poured in. Jiro looked at you solemnly before mouthing a quick good luck, and going to your classmate. Loud footsteps sounded behind you, making the presence of the person known. You turned around, coming face to face with Katsuki Bakugo. He didn’t say anything at first, only huffing and giving one word answers as you worked. It was a bit frustrating, but tolerable. 

Whilst tinkering away at some gear, in the background you hear the chattering of a few of the other hero course students. Uravity, Ingenium and Deku. Also known as Uraraka, Iida, and Midoriya, respectively. Each was a formidable and an interesting watch at the U.A. sports festival in your first year. They almost made it seem exciting enough to join.

Normally, you wouldn’t mind the white noise. 

Mindless conversation, a constant mechanical whir. It wouldn’t feel right to work without a bit of a chaotic atmosphere, as you were far too used to Hatsume’s unpredictable gadgets. 

This was not one of those times.

Grating voices and croaking exclamations started to get on your nerves. Your jaw strained slightly, trying to distract yourself from your increasing headache. Occasionally you had to force yourself to focus back on the intricate gauntlet design, and hope that by some miracle they find a way to either lower their unpleasant voices, or stop their chatter all together. The irritation on your face must have been obvious, because Bakugo quirked his brow at you in confusion. You mistook his intrigue for scrutiny and immediately spluttered out a few unnecessary words to calm the already tame situation. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to direct that at you. It’s just, uh, loud.” You fumbled, not wanting to throw his classmates under the bus, but not exactly wanting to lie either.

“You can just say they’re fucking annoying.” 

Baffled, you widened your eyes at him, and shot him an incredulous look. You could hardly believe your ears. “What?”

In typical Bakugo fashion, he scoffed and rolled his bright red eyes, not bothering to repeat himself. 

Although it was completely unrealistic, you thought the hero course students were all close-knit after the ceaseless attacks on the school, and more specifically, their class. So it came as a bit of a surprise to hear his vulgar criticisms about the trio. 

With a sigh you return back to your notes. Workshopping and designing new possible ideas you have for him. The more you worked with him, the more you understood his wordless gruffs and body language. Trying to decode his vexing communication methods was a much needed distraction from the trio’s incessant talking. A rough reply here. A raspy exhale there. Yet in the background, you couldn’t block out the three of them. 

It used to be manageable when it was just Midoriya and you were partnered with Jiro, but with the addition of the other two, it became intolerable. Word after word, sentence after sentence. Everything was so overwhelming and it was too much; it was a conscious struggle to hold yourself back from throwing a particularly dense hammer in their direction. Realistically, you know that they aren’t actually doing anything wrong, but for some reason they were getting on your nerves.

Just when you were about to blow up at them, you heard Bakugo yell over the commotion. You couldn’t even make out what he had said, far too stunned at the entire ordeal. Turning your head to face the others, you realised that they had finally quietened. Either Bakugo had a lot of respect from them, or they were afraid of what he could do. You didn’t care which it was. They had stopped, and that’s all that mattered. Turning back to Bakugo, you uttered a small “Thank you”, to which he scoffed.

“I didn’t do it for you.” He said and crossed his arms, refusing to meet your gaze.

A blank expression washed over your face. Honestly, you hadn’t a clue on how to respond. Nod politely and return back to whatever you were working on? Absolutely not. 

So you opted to just stare at him instead. Bakugo didn’t take too kindly to your silent gawking. That much was obvious by the way he scrunched his face and stared you up and down. He looked almost… disgusted? You could feel your self-esteem crumble already. 

With a resigned sigh, you turned away, ready to hand him back his items and leave. As he was finished adjusting the gauntlets, he flexed his hand as a quick trial to test their comfortability. He exhaled sharply and nodded before walking out the door with the rest of the hero course students. Not a single ‘thanks’ left his mouth, and you were starting to question if he even knew the meaning of the word. 

You weren’t sure if you were just hearing things, but you could have sworn that a small “You’re welcome” escaped his lips before he disappeared around the corner.

Maybe change wasn’t so bad.

Masterlist

[oscarisaacasimov]

How to Save for Retirement

Good news: There's a lot about retirement savings that you DO NOT have to thoroughly understand to make savvy investments. You don't have to be a math person or have a traditional job or have a "5 year plan".

1) Start saving as early as you can. The one financial advantage we have over the older generations is TIME, so USE IT. Starting early means making "free money," your interest earns interest that will be paid back to you. The amount you save in the early years is expected to double every decade, so the more years with an account, the more free money.

2) Start today if you haven't yet. I mean it. Even if it's only 50-100 / month. You will have an account earning free money in your name, and it's easy to add more funds later when the basics are already set up. If you don't have access to a 401(k) or similar, open an IRA (the Roth IRA kind is for those with a low income and a low tax payment in the springs). NOW is more important than which type of account.

3) Choose an "index fund" with a "target date" around the age you expect to retire. Index funds are basically a tiny sliver of the whole economy around you - stocks for companies large and small, bonds for the US government, real estate, international components. Index funds provide better returns for a lower fee than "actively managed" funds, where the professional's guess wrong more often than not. If you are investing in an index, or piece of the market, than the market can never leave you behind. Target dates mean more higher risk, higher reward stocks in the earliest years, and gradually adjusting to more stable and steady bonds as you near retirement and have less time to recoop a loss. If any of this sounds scary or complicated, this is the common and proven best way to invest over a lifetime.

4) If your employer offers a retirement match contribution (often 2% - 5% of your takehome pay), invest at least that much of your own pay, because again we love FREE MONEY.

5) Increase your retirement payments to yourself anytime life gets easier. Significant raise at work? Moved to a cheaper town? Paid off your car / house / student loans / day care years? Send some of that new monthly money straight into the retirement fund.

6) Your eventual goal is to save 15% of your annual income toward retirement. If this seems insane, start where you can, and aim to add an additional 1-2% with every new year.

7) "Set it and forget it." DO NOT TOUCH your retirement money. Don't even look at it. Maybe once / year if you are curious. The road of compound interest will include some downturns with the stock market is down. This is normal for everyone, but keeping that steady investment through highs & lows is the best strategy for longterm growth of your money.

7b) It is not a kindness to your children to pull money out of your retirement savings on their behalf. You'll lose that much money plus the years of "free money" accumulation plus some early withdrawal fees &/ weird tasks. This makes you more likely to become financially dependent on your kids during your retirement. Not a favor in the long run.

8 ) "If investing feels fun and exciting, then you are not investing, you are gambling." If you are intrigued by the idea of investing in particular companies or trying to time the market - cool. Take some money that wouldn't be disastrous to lose and try your luck - the odds are not in your favor. But your retirement plan must be slow and steady. Source

[ask-archer-idv]

There was an unexpected speed from her as she smacked the keys with fever, focusing on the two majors of decoding and keeping an ear out for the other. As the demon was taking a decent amount of time, Ashley was surprised by her own decoding speed as what normally took her a little bit more time was at least cut in a quarter. It might have not been enough to some to notice but it was to her as she continued.

Her jaw was set heavily at his taunts but she wouldn't let him get on her nerves. She wasn't sure if she would survive or not but she knew that she had to try.

She had to.

For Pearce.

Despite how he saw her, Ashley could feel the eyes on her - her terror radius much bigger than the others since it was a skill of knowing when a hunter was closer. There was a glance behind her to see his lumbering body in the distance. A quiet click of her tongue before she punched the machine in its last second of priming.

Ding!

There wasn't any waiting for the sound to finish as she was quick to start running once again. While it may be his world, he could not bring back the dead. Only visages of people who once roamed her life with smiles and love now gone. Any visage he tried would be met with running. Searching for the next cipher to escape the hellish game.

She would steel her heart off. She had a goal and it wasn't something that would be easy.

A glance of her shirt and she knew what he was looking for but that didn't dissuade her as she was quick to slide it off her shoulders. It would no doubt come in handy later but not now as she ran towards the next cipher with tremors of anticipation and adrenaline as she once more continued to cipher. She had managed to get a few meters away before she shed her shirt and hid it in front of her so she would be harder to spot.

Now, she started decoding with more oomph in her fingers as she was now half way to her goal. She couldn't let herself be caught as she kept a trained ear on the hunter's whereabouts.

"Do you think he's happy? I'm sure he'll be soon happy to leave your pathetic ass."

...

"You know, I did steal your first kiss, and Pearce was so... sooo devstated... he thought he could never work up the courage, so I helped him."

"He really thinks you trust me over him. And that wounds his fat little heart... Crushed that you will heed my words over a farmer's words."

"You know... you remind him of his best friend just a bit, cold, standing his ground, and too cautious of his own good. I'm glad he was the catalyst to make him suffer."

"You say he'll become happy... anything to secure his happiness. Maybe he'll use that surgical equipment to take his life."

"I remember it like yesterday, how he tried for the first time... he hung himself in the barn, but he came back."

"I recall his first match, shot through the throat, and bleeding to death. How can you hope to save him from torment like this? When he's a danger to himself?"

"At least this time if he does, I won't save him."

At least now they didn't have to worry about the cluster of voices, focused now on the grating voice of the demon. In their head, he would probably be happier without the voice, without the constant pestering of the demon and being able to not worry about Alu doing anything to those he loved.

Archer couldn't help but click their tongue harshly, the taste of anger at the words heavy on their tongue.

"You're the reason why he's been a danger to himself. Without you constantly bringing harm to him and those he care about then he won't be like that. He would be easier on himself with time and love from those who love and care for him," Archer hissed.

Despite wanting to be there to help, Archer knew the chances of them being anything close to friends again was probably just a distant dream to Archer. They didn't know how they could go on fixing anything. They could only be selfish and hold onto the knife in hopes that someone would be able to help Pearce heal and be safe. Doing something stupid and reckless to protect the man she loved even if it doomed her.

"He's not as weak as you make him out to be. He just needs time."

[ultrone]

🫀 ♰ ┈ motion sickness. vampire amber freeman

🎧 𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 decode by paramore | 𝘁𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸

synopsis. you and your girlfriend attend a party with the intention of having a good time, but unexpectedly encounter an attack by Ghostface. Will Amber choose to let you go, or will she sacrifice your humanity to protect you from danger?

vampire amber headcanon // requested by @geico-insuranc

cw. angst, stabbing, blood, mentions of violence, fluff.

wc. 5.1k

The Friday afternoon sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the suburban streets as you and Amber left school together. With backpacks slung over your shoulders, you made your way to Amber's house, chatting and laughing as you walked. But for a moment, you noticed that Amber looked a little pale and tired. You turned to her and asked, "Hey, are you feeling alright? You look a little drained."

Amber gave you a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little tired, that's all."

You didn't want to push the issue, but you couldn't help but worry about her. You knew that being a vampire wasn't easy, and you wanted to make sure that she was taking care of herself. So, you decided to bring up something that had been on your mind for a while.

"Amber, I know we've talked about this before, but if you ever need to, you know, feed on me... I'm okay with it," you said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Plus, it's like donating blood at a hospital, right?" You quipped, trying to persuade her.

Amber's expression softened, but she shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, babe, but we've talked about this already. I don't want to risk liking it too much."

You understood where she was coming from. Amber had told you that your blood was different from others, that it smelled incredibly sweet to her, and that she had trouble controlling herself around it. She had even given you a special ring to wear that dampened the smell a bit, not only because of her, but she was afraid that other vampires might target you due to its unique scent.

You nodded, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. "Okay, I understand. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help, alright?"

Amber gave you a grateful smile and leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the lips. "Thanks, you're the best."

As you arrived at Amber's house, you walked inside and were greeted by the warm aroma of home-cooked food wafting from the kitchen. Amber's mother was standing at the counter, chopping vegetables, and she looked up to see you both enter. With a bright smile, she asked, "Hey, you two! How was school today?"

You responded with a polite greeting and chatted with her for a moment before making your way up to Amber's room. The staircase leading up was old and creaky, but it added to the charm of the house. As you ascended the stairs, you could hear the sound of Amber's mother bustling about downstairs, pots and pans clanking together as she prepared dinner.

Amber had previously explained to you that as long as vampires consumed a regular supply of blood, their bodies functioned like those of humans. This meant that the dinner her mother was preparing was no different from what any other family would eat. However, if vampires went for a prolonged period without drinking blood, they could become lethargic and weak. In some cases, vampires could even become "ripper" vampires, which caused them to lose control and become excessively violent in their thirst for blood. As long as they maintained their blood intake, though, vampires could live normal lives, eating, sleeping, and drinking just like humans without any issues.

Once you reached Amber's room, you closed the door behind you and collapsed onto her bed, letting out a sigh. The walls were covered in posters of bands and TV shows that you knew she loved, and her bed was piled high with cozy blankets and pillows.

Once you were settled in, you started flipping through the options on Netflix before finally deciding on Twilight, causing Amber to roll her eyes at you.

"Really, Twilight?" Amber chuckled, her fangs glinting in the dim light of the room. "You know, just because I'm a vampire doesn't mean I want to watch vampire movies all the time," she teased, nudging you with her elbow.

You chuckled, "Well, excuse me for trying to be on theme."

As the movie played, you snuggled close to her, resting your head on her chest. Amber's fingers started to caress your back, sending a warm and soothing sensation through your body. The soft hum of her voice as she talked about the movie and the feeling of her body pressing against yours was all you needed to feel content.

As the credits rolled, Amber turned to you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Hey, I heard Liv is throwing a party tonight. You wanna go?"

"Sure, that sounds like fun," you replied, grinning at her. "But can we just stay like this for a little while longer?" You were in no rush to leave her embrace.

Amber smiled, pulling you closer to her and wrapping her arms around you. You snuggled into her embrace, feeling the warmth of her body mixed with the coolness of her touch, making you feel like you were in perfect balance. "I could stay like this forever," Amber whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You closed your eyes, feeling completely content in her arms. The two of you stayed like that for a few more minutes, enjoying the peace and quiet of each other's company.

Eventually, you reluctantly pulled away, sitting up and stretching. "Alright, let's go," you said with a smile, stretching your arms over your head. "Let me grab my jacket and we can head out."

Amber nodded, a playful grin on her face as she stood up from the bed. "I'll meet you downstairs," she said, making her way out of the room. You quickly grabbed your jacket and followed her, making your way down to the living room where Amber's mom was now sitting. "We're heading out to Liv's party, Mrs. Freeman," you said, giving her a smile.

"Alright, you two have fun," she replied with a smile, waving goodbye as you both made your way out the door.

As you walked a few blocks to Liv's house, you and Amber held hands, enjoying the cool evening breeze. The neighborhood was quiet and peaceful, with only the occasional car passing by.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed with an alert. You pulled it out to see a notification from the news app about a new killing from Ghostface. Your heart sank as you read the details. The body had been found just an hour ago outside of a bar not too far from where you were.

"Another one," you muttered to Amber, showing her the notification on your phone.

Amber's expression turned serious as she looked at the screen. "Do you think it could be someone we know?"

"I don't know," you replied, feeling a sense of unease creeping up on you. "But it's just scary to think that there's someone out there doing this."

Amber squeezed your hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, I won't let anything or anybody hurt you," she said, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on your eyebrow.

As you smiled at Amber, thanking her for her words of comfort, you both continued to walk towards Liv's house. The soft, warm glow of the streetlights illuminated your path, casting long shadows behind you. Finally, you arrived at your destination, Liv's spacious two-story home with its sprawling backyard.

The lively sounds of laughter and music spilled out from within, letting you know that the party was already in full swing.

As you walked in, you noticed that the living room was already packed with people of all shapes and sizes, some of them familiar faces from school and others complete strangers. As you and Amber pushed your way through the crowd, the sound of music blaring from the speakers drowned out any chance of conversation, and the smell of pizza and alcohol filled your nostrils.

You quickly scanned the room for any sign of someone you knew, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in attendance. But then, a familiar face caught your eye. It was Tara waving at you from across the room.

"Hey, guys! What’s up?” Tara shouted over the music as she made her way towards you both.

"This place is crazy," you replied, trying to shout loud enough to be heard over the music.

"Yeah, it's a bit of a madhouse. But it's Friday night, what do you expect?" Tara said, grinning.

As Tara led you towards the kitchen, you could hear the sound of music and laughter growing louder. As you approached, the sight of your tipsy friends made you smile. Chad caught your eye and you playfully wrapped your arm around his shoulder.

"Hey man, you started the party without me?" you joked, giving him a nudge.

Chad turned to you with a goofy grin. "What can I say? I couldn't resist the siren call of the tequila," he replied, his words slightly slurred. He then grabbed a bottle of tequila and started mixing it with some soda and gummy candies, creating a colorful and fruity concoction.

"This is my latest creation," Chad announced, holding up his drink for you and Amber to see. "I call it the 'Chad-a-rita.' It's sweet and tangy, with a little kick of tequila," he explained, handing each of you a cup.

"Chad-a-rita? Really?" Amber chuckled, teasing him about the name.

"Hey, it's catchy," he said, winking at the both of you.

You took a sip, and the taste of tequila hit you immediately, but it was quickly followed by a burst of sweetness. The gummy candies gave the drink a fun and playful twist, and you were pleasantly surprised by how well it worked. "Shit, this is pretty good, Chad," you said, taking another sip.

Amber, on the other hand, took a small sip and made a face. "It's too sweet," she said bluntly. "But it's a creative idea, Chad," she added, trying to be polite.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Amber's bluntness. Her straightforwardness was one of the things you loved about her, even if it sometimes caught you off guard. You laughed and nudged her playfully.

"Oh Amber, you always know how to make a guy feel good about his drink-making skills," he teased, taking a playful sip of his own concoction.

As you sipped on your drink, you caught Wes's eye from across the kitchen. The two of you had been best friends since childhood, and even though you didn’t have many classes together this semester, you still made time to catch up whenever you could. You were always excited to see him, and tonight was no exception.

The moment Wes noticed you were there, he grinned and made his way towards you. "Hey, you made it!" he said as he reached you and gave you a bear hug.

"Of course, wouldn't miss it," you replied, returning the hug.

Wes then turned to Amber and gave her a nod of acknowledgement, "Hey Amber, how's it going?"

Amber smiled and replied, "Good, thanks."

You and Wes then caught up on what you'd both been up to since you last saw each other. It had been a few weeks, but it felt like much longer. Between school and spending time with Amber since you started dating, you hadn't had a chance to hang out with Wes as much as you used to. But as you talked, it felt like no time had passed at all.

As you chatted with Wes, Mindy suddenly piped up from behind you, her eyes glued to her phone screen. "Guys, I just got a notification on my phone that a body was found at a bar a few blocks away," she said, her voice filled with excitement and concern.

You nodded, realizing that you had received the same notification on your phone about half an hour ago. "Yeah, I saw that too," you said, feeling a bit tense.

"Wait, what?!" Tara exclaimed, "I didn't get any notification on my phone."

"I just checked mine too, and I got it," Wes added, his eyes widening.

Mindy started speculating about who the murderer could be. "Sam is still the main suspect on my list," she said with a determined look in her eyes.

Tara rolled her eyes, "Mindy, you always think it's Sam. Maybe it's that Richie guy from Mr. Prescott's class. He's kind of a weirdo, I don't trust him."

Wes nodded in agreement, "Yeah, and didn't he always seem to have a thing for Sam?"

Liv chimed in, "Or maybe it's someone completely unrelated to our lives. The killer could be a complete stranger to us." The three of them continued to discuss different theories and possible suspects, trying to piece together the clues.

Chad couldn't resist adding to the conversation. "Who knows, maybe the killer is right here at the party. After all, that bar isn't too far from here, right?" he said with a mischievous grin, trying to spook everyone.

Everyone laughed, but you couldn't help feeling a bit tense. Sensing your turmoil, Amber spoke up, "Thanks for putting our minds at ease, Chad," trying to dissipate the tension in the air. Her words were a clear attempt to lighten the mood, and you appreciated the gesture.

As Amber made her sarcastic comment, you found yourself grinning, feeling the tension dissipate. Mindy's fixation on catching Ghostface had always been both amusing and slightly unnerving to you. "Yeah, Mindy's probably already created a whole crime board with pictures and a red string linking everyone together," you joked, earning a few chuckles from the group.

Mindy rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling. "Hey, you guys can laugh all you want, but when I catch Ghostface, you'll be thanking me," she said, with a determined look on her face.

Chad chuckled, "Okay, okay, enough ghost talk for now. Let's lighten up the mood, shall we? Anyone up for a game of beer pong?" he said, grinning mischievously.

Everyone seemed to perk up at the idea, and before you knew it, you were all making your way to the living room, ready for a round of the classic party game.

As you passed through the hallway, you noticed the eerie darkness outside, and shuddered. It felt like the perfect setting for a horror movie, but you shook off the feeling and focused on the game ahead. As you set up the cups and arranged the teams, you noticed that there weren't enough beers to fill them all. "Hey guys, we're running low on beers here," you said, looking around at the group.

"I have some more packs in a shed outside," Liv said, standing up. "I can go grab them."

"I'll come with you," you said, feeling a bit tipsy already from Chad's potent drink and wanting some fresh air.

Before leaving, you turned to Amber and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "I'll be back in a bit," you said, smiling at her before following Liv through the hallway towards the back door.

As you and Liv walked towards your destination, a drunken douchebag suddenly jumped over a table in an attempt to show off. The table couldn't handle his weight and broke under him. "What the fuck, dude?" Liv yelled, clearly annoyed at the sight of the broken table.

Liv then turned to you and asked, "Hey, do you mind going to get the beers from the shed while I clean up this mess? My parents are coming home tomorrow at noon, and I don't want them to see this." She explained, her tone still tinged with irritation. Though you felt somewhat apprehensive about going out alone, you agreed and made your way outside.

As you stepped out into the cool night air, you couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. The house was situated in a secluded area, and the darkness added to its eeriness. You quickly made your way to the shed, and fortunately, Liv had left the light on for you. As you rummaged through the beer packs, you heard some rustling in the nearby bushes, which made you jump.

Cautiously, you peeked around the corner and spotted a group of teenagers walking down the street, laughing and shouting. You breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed the beers before heading outside.

As you were leaving the shed with the beer, you heard a rustling noise once again. Initially, you felt apprehensive, but then you thought to yourself that it was probably the same group of teenagers from before. However, before you could dismiss it entirely, you heard a voice call out, "Hey, Y/n." The voice made you jump, and you quickly turned around to face the source of the sound.

To your shock, it was Ghostface. You dropped the beers, and they shattered on the ground. "You gotta be shitting me," you thought to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest.

Ghostface chuckled sarcastically, "Oh, what's wrong, Y/n? Did I scare you?" Their tone was smug, and they took a step closer to you. You tried to back away, but before you could, they were already on top of you, ready to attack.

Your body tensed up, and you felt a surge of fear wash over you. You tried to fight back, but Ghostface was too strong. You struggled, but it was no use. You were trapped.

As Ghostface held you down, their cold breath lingered against your face. "I've been waiting for so long, Y/n," they whispered, his voice filled with malice. "But that Freeman bitch is always too close to you, and I couldn't find the right moment... until now."

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. Why was Ghostface attacking you? What did he want?

Suddenly, they pulled out a knife and began to stab you repeatedly. You tried to scream, but their hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries for help. You struggled to break free, but Ghostface's grip only tightened, making it impossible for you to move.

The pain was unbearable, and you could feel the blood seeping out of your wounds. You tried to fight back with all your might, but it was no use. Ghostface was too strong, and they seemed to be enjoying every moment of your agony.

As the world around you began to fade, you realized with horror that this was the end.

Amber started to worry as Liv and you were taking too long. She sensed that something was off and she didn’t like it, so she decided to go take a look. As she was walking towards the back, she saw Liv in the middle of the hallway scolding some guy. Amber quickly approached her and asked where you were.

Liv explained what had happened, and Amber's expression turned from concern to anger. "You sent her out there alone while there's a killer on the loose? What the fuck, Liv?" she exclaimed, looking at her with disgust. Without waiting for a response, Amber rushed outside to look for you.

As Amber stepped out into the cool night air, she called out your name. There was no answer, just an eerie silence that sent shivers down her spine. She felt her heart racing with fear as she walked around the dark yard, searching for any signs of you.

And then she saw you, lying on the ground, covered in blood. "Oh, my God," she gasped, Amber's heart sank as she rushed over to you, frantically checking for a pulse. She felt relieved when she found one, but the sight of your wounds made her feel sick to her stomach.

As she pulled out her phone to dial 911, she couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. The sight of all the blood on you started to weigh on her, making her feel dizzy and lightheaded. She tried to ignore it, but the hunger pangs became more intense with every passing moment.

Amber knew that she needed to stay focused and keep her mind on the task at hand, but the mouthwatering scent of your blood was overpowering. She felt a primal urge to sink her fangs into your neck and drain you dry, but she knew that would only make things worse.

Instead, she forced herself to stay by your side, using every ounce of her willpower to resist the temptation.

As Amber looked at you lying on the ground, she knew that time was of the essence, and that he couldn't afford to wait for an ambulance. She quickly thought about using her abilities to get you to the hospital faster. She carefully picked you up in her arms, feeling the weight of your body against hers.

With a burst of supernatural speed, Amber dashed through the woods, weaving in and out of the trees and undergrowth. She tried to keep a steady pace, but her hunger was starting to get the better of her.

Halfway to the hospital, Amber began to hear your heartbeat slowing down. She knew that time was running out, and she had to get you there quickly.

With a renewed sense of urgency, she poured all her strength into her legs and sprinted towards the hospital, carrying you as gently as she could. But despite her best efforts, your heartbeats continued to slow down until they were almost imperceptible.

Amber could feel the panic rising inside her. She didn't know if she would make it in time to save you. But she refused to give up hope, and she pushed herself even harder, running faster and faster towards the hospital.

As she ran, she was so focused on getting to her destination and suppressing her hunger that she didn't notice your heartbeats had stopped. It wasn't until she felt your weight go limp in her arms that she realized what had happened. She stopped in her tracks and dropped you to the ground. She cradled you in her arms, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded with you not to leave her.

"No, no, no, babe, don't do this to me," she cried, holding you tightly. She didn't want to turn you into a vampire, but she knew it was the only way to save you. The thought of taking away your mortality frustrated her, but she couldn't bear the thought of living without you. You were the most important thing in her life, and she couldn't imagine going on without you.

As she cradled you in her arms, tears streaming down her face, she couldn't help but feel selfish for making this decision on her own. She knew it wasn't fair to you, but she couldn't bear the thought of losing you forever. She held you tighter, trying to will your heart to start beating again, but deep down, she knew it was too late. The only way to save you now, her only hope, was to turn you into a vampire.

With tears in her eyes, she softly held your neck and leaned in to bite, feeling the warm rush of your sweet blood fill her mouth. The temptation was almost too much for her to handle, but she pushed through, knowing that your life depended on it.

After she had drank enough, she bit into her own wrist and held it to your mouth, letting the blood flow into your throat. She hoped and prayed that you would survive the transformation and that you would forgive her for what she had done.

As you started to stir, she held you even closer, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety wash over her. She knew that being a vampire would change everything for both of you, but she was willing to face whatever challenges lay ahead, as long as it meant that you would still be by her side.

As you began to regain consciousness, you felt a searing pain in your throat and your vision was blurred. Amber looked at you with a mix of relief and guilt. "I'm sorry, but I had to do it. I couldn't let you go," she explained. You attempted to speak, but your throat was dry and sore. "Don't talk, you need to rest," she said softly while gently stroking your hair.

You slowly sat up, feeling weak but oddly rejuvenated at the same time. "What happened to me? What did you do?" you inquired, looking at Amber in confusion.

"I turned you into a vampire to save you," she replied, her eyes brimming with concern.

You experienced a wave of emotions — shock, confusion, fear, and a peculiar thrill. "I'm a vampire now?" you uttered, still grappling to come to terms with the situation.

Amber nodded, "Yes, but it won't be easy. There's much for you to learn, and I'll be there every step of the way. I promise you."

As your senses gradually returned, you sensed a curious feeling, like a surge of vitality coursing through your veins. You were still disoriented and dizzy, but you knew something had changed, although you couldn't quite put your finger on it. You attempted to concentrate on your surroundings, and then you realized where you were: deep in the woods, surrounded by trees and shrubs, and covered in blood.

You looked up, and there was Amber, standing in front of you, sweaty and bloody, holding out her wrist. "Drink," she said, her voice gentle but urgent. You hesitated at first, feeling a mix of fear and uncertainty, but you trusted her, and you knew that she was the only one who could help you.

So you took her wrist in your hand, feeling the warmth of her blood against your skin, and brought it to your mouth. The taste was unlike anything you had ever experienced before: sweet and rich, with a metallic tang that sent shivers down your spine. You drank hungrily, feeling the liquid coursing through your body, filling you with a renewed sense of energy and exuberance.

As you drank, you felt your body changing, transforming into something new and unfamiliar. You felt stronger, faster, and more alive than ever before. You felt like you could run for miles without getting tired, like you could jump higher than the tallest tree in the forest. And yet, at the same time, you felt strangely empty, like something vital had been taken away from you.

When you were done, you looked up at Amber, and you could see the concern etched on her face. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft and soothing. You nodded, still trying to wrap your head around everything that had happened. You were alive, yes, but at what cost? You were now a vampire, like Amber, and that meant giving up your old life, your friends, your family, everything.

But in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was Amber, and the bond that you now shared. You took her in your arms, holding her tightly, feeling her warmth against your chest. You knew that things would never be the same again, but somehow, that was okay. You had each other, and that was all that mattered.

As Amber looked at you with tears in her eyes, she said, "I'm so sorry, baby. I had no other choice." She placed a hand on your cheek and wiped away a drop of blood. "But you're going to be okay now, I promise. I love you so much." Your heart swelled with emotion, and you managed to rasp, "I love you too." She leaned in and gave you a tender kiss on the forehead before scooping you up in her arms.

As she carried you through the woods, you felt dizzy and tired once again, but at the same time, you felt foreign. The world around you seemed to be sharper and more vibrant, and you could hear things that you never noticed before. You could even feel the pulse of the earth beneath your feet.

Amber's voice pulled you back to reality. "We're here," she said, entering her room through the window. She brought you inside and laid you on her bed, then went to her bathroom to run a bath for you.

As you lay there, you tried to piece together what had happened. You remembered being attacked by Ghostface, and then the sensation of Amber's teeth sinking into your neck. You felt a sense of fear and confusion, but at the same time, you felt a deep sense of love and comfort emanating from Amber.

When Amber returned, you noticed that she had changed and cleaned up. She helped you sit up, guided you to the bathroom, and gave you a warm bath, carefully washing away the blood from your body.

As she started to gently tend to your wounds, she reassured you, "You'll be sore for a while, but you'll heal quickly."

You gazed at her with a mix of love and admiration as she tended to your wounds, her hands moving with skilled precision. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Amber smiled at you warmly. "Anything for you, my love," she said softly.

As she finished tending to your wounds, she helped you dry off and get dressed. You were still feeling weak and tired, but you knew you were in good hands with your girlfriend. She led you to her bed and helped you lie down, pulling the covers up to your chin.

"You rest now," she said, her voice soothing. "I'll be here if you need anything."

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh, feeling a sense of relief and safety wash over you. You knew that Amber would always be there for you, no matter what. And with that thought in your mind, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

As Amber saw you drifting into sleep, her mind was still racing with anger and determination to find the person responsible for attacking you. She went back into the bathroom and picked up your dirty clothes, inhaling deeply. Her nostrils flared with anger as she instantly recognized the scent of the person who had attacked you. But she pushed the thoughts of vengeance aside for now, knowing that taking care of you was the priority.

Amber carefully folded your dirty clothes and placed them in a plastic bag before returning to the bed. She crawled under the covers next to you, holding you tightly and giving you a gentle kiss on the eyebrow. "I'm sorry this happened to you," she whispered. "But I promise you, I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

She nuzzled her face into the crook of your neck and closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of your body against hers. The events of the night had left her emotionally drained, but she couldn't bear to be away from you. She murmured softly as she drifted off to sleep, her arms wrapped protectively around you.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Nazi watcher anon, below is a list of information and resources for anyone who wants to learn more about how nazis have spread their rhetoric and are using the internet. Please keep in mind that I can't put warnings on everything and since this is about nazis there can be very distressing things to read in this list. If you're not in a headspace to deal with it please don't look into the things I mention.

I have never found one coherent source that wraps all of this together neatly and this is not a complete list of sources. These are selections made by myself after about 15 years of learning about white supremacy on my own by reading their source materials and about 8 years of following their online movement. It's meant for people that are just starting to learn about the historical depth and intricacy of the neo-nazi movements that currently plague us.

First, all of modern neo-nazi movements started with George Lincoln Rockwell who was the founder of the American Nazi Party in 1959. Their tactics and approaches to infiltrating normal society, recruitment, and rhetoric come directly from GLR. I reccomend the three-part episode of Behind The Bastards (episode 51 published March 12, 13, 14, 2019). The host Robert Evans lays everything out in an easy to understand fashion and ties it to the modern nazi movements.

To understand fascism check out the 1995 essay "Ur-Fascism" by Umberto Eco, an Italian who grew up during the era of Italian fascism. You can find the pdf for free online as well as audio versions that have been recorded and released for free. He lays out the features of fascism and the commonalities between all fascist movements.

For the modern nazi movement I recommend the youtube channel Innuendo Studios and his series "The Alt-Right Playbook" as well as it's (in my mind) companion series "Why Are You So Angry?" which covers gamergate. While gamergate wasn't a fascist movement he details how using normies for cover is used in these sorts of astroturfed movements.

An important book in the alt-right is The Turner Diaries by William Luther Pierce. This is not an easy book to read because of the content, it's also terribly written but that's just my opinion. This book was the inspiration for multiple fascist terrorist attacks, including the Oklahoma city bombing. When you hear people talk about 'the day of the rope' (the reason the January 6 insurrectionists had gallows set up, Jeremy MacKenzie saying the convoy will end in 'guns or ropes', etc.) this is the book it comes from. It details a fictional future where white people are oppressed and they rise up, start a race war, and establish an all white society. You can find it for free online if you want to read it for yourself, though even the wiki can give you a brief overview.

Some podcasts that I've found helpful in learning about modern nazis are: I Don't Speak German (covers many alt-right influencers, each episode is clearly labeled so you can find the groups you're curious about), Knowledge Fight (mainly reports on episodes of Infowars and breaks down Alex Jones' talking points which are all related to nazi/qanon conspiracies), Decoding the Gurus (not directly related to nazis but does address many of the people shuttling primarily young men into fascist movements), and Sounds Like Hate by the Southern Poverty Law Center. Most of these podcasts are about USAmerican nazi figures, however it's still relevant to Canada since the nazi groups are deeply interconnected on both sides of the border.

For Canadian nazis I've been following their podcasts, vlogs, etc. This is hard and I don't reccomend anyone dive into it unless you're stable enough to listen to people who hate and want to wipe out anyone who isn't a straight white man. If you want to look into them anyway you can find Jeremy MacKenzie (Raging Dissident) on rumble where he releases a vlog/podcast called RageCast, he's also the founder of Diagalon which is a white separatist movement. He's associated with some other influencers that call themselves The Plaid Army that can be found in various places depending on where they've been deplatformed, a short list: The Ferryman's Toll, Slippin Lizzard, Derek Rants, Tyler L. Russell (leader of Canada First), EdgyDTv, Kerry Morgan (Alberta Defense League), and BlackGuyBigot (aka Canary In A Coal Mine). Google often hides the sites these people publish on so you might need to use DuckDuckGo to find their rat holes.

The last places you can find these people, as well as the groups organizing the convoy, is on a couple of alt-right platforms. Telegram, Gab, and Parler are the most popular ones in use and you can find these groups/people by searching for keywords that you've seen in this post. PLEASE NOTE: if you're going into these spaces DO NOT INTERACT with any of them! Use a fake name, fake number, etc and do not actively infiltrate. Some of these people are dangerous so you should be hiding your identity and observing ONLY. Use a generic white guy name and lurk.

I'll send another ask later about how to talk to people who are not actively nazis about what's going on. Unfortunately that one will shorter since deradicalization is a long process and not something that can be accomplished in one conversation.

Knowledge is power and these movements have been able to ferment for decades because mainstream society has been able to brush them off as a fringe minority. They have intentionally been muddying the waters around discussion of alt-right groups to make themselves more palatable to the normal white people around them and until we learn those tactics we're at risk of falling victim to them. Arm yourself with their talking points, approaches, and memes so you can recognize them when they pop up online or in person.

Stay safe everyone!

~~~~

[yournightowl]

Your NightOwl #007

After i had a not very fun encounter with that fellow lurker the other day, i started brainstorming about what i could do to be better prepared. There’s lots of protective subroutines out there, but they’re all designed for the modern darknet. i had hoped there might be some overlap, but it seems like the differences are even bigger than i thought.

The problem is the difference in intent.

The internet we use now was built for consumers and consumerism. It’s designed to be easy to use, easy to navigate, and as flexible as possible. The darknet we have (if you can call it that) is just the occasional, forgotten tepid pool at the bottom of the cistern that a few unsavory types can gather in, to trade data in (relative) privacy. It’s small and very scattered- If they want to send anything around the world, they have to put it on physical drives and put those drives on a plane, and hope they’ll get plugged back in to the right darknet waiting for them on the other side of the globe. 

All of which is about as glamorous as trafficking fish back and forth from the pet store, if you ask me.

But the oldnet was built for data first and people second. All the usability and ease of access, all the user interfaces and search engines were added later. The “deep web” was there first, and it never went away, so the hidden side of things was always so much bigger than lusers ever imagined.

That deep web’s still here, but it’s lost a lot of its meaning. Now that the oldnet’s abandoned, the difference between it’s various layers and their depths don’t seem to matter very much. It’s /all/ dark and murky back here- some parts are just further away from the surface than others.

So, if the oldnet is its own microcosm, and i want to carry protection, i’ll have to find it here, right?

Enter my new contact, “leetle”. For a very reasonable fee, they sold me a subroutine package that’ll keep my address secure, my setup vaccinated, and my data as heavily or lightly encrypted as i please.

I’m taking it for a test spin right now.

[.executePackage with key = true]

How’s this? Frustrating, isn’t it? To not be able to decode what I’m typing here? i could be spilling all kinds of secrets and no one would be the wiser. Best of all, it looks normal to me, so I won’t embarrass myself by leaving behind any typos

For myself to find, I guess, since no one’s reading this

huh

okay well i might as well leave one real secret here while i’ve got the chance:

i lied to Ana about not being genetically compatible with Mods. My parents would just never allow it.

And i happen to look good in my glasses, Lindsey, so not spending my whole adult life walking around with leds for eyeballs isn’t nearly as tragic as you made it sound

[.terminatePackage()]

Pretty neat, huh?

Flying under cover of night with none the wiser,

Your nightowl

ᕙ(  •̀ v •́  )ᕗ

[jvsons]

Request from @robertdowneyhiddlesbatch // Jay is assigned to protect a target and targets not worried which annoys jay but eventually he falls for target.

SWEET VENEZUALA

Arkham Knight! Jason Todd x reader

MASTERLIST

WARNINGS • none

CATEGORY • slight fluff

AN • ok ngl this is trash

Leave or love in a tropical city. What a saying.

That chain of 7 words had been playing over and over with almost every advertisement that popped up on your TV. Surprisingly, you weren’t so annoyed by the phrase as it came with some catchy riff, and the TV’s volume was set to 3. You sat across the room at your desk, typing away on a typical Monday morning’s document. Bright beams of sunlight filtered passive in your apartment, casting a deep blue glow to your walls at fault of the curtains. In the little that you could see through your window, flocks of seagulls flew abroad to the sea, while hundreds of feet down families toured the streets. You watched them for only a few seconds before leaning away from the curtain and getting back to work, swiping over your inbox to make sure no sudden requests of work had popped up. The second your fingers went to meet the keys, you were distracted by a deafening crash. Your body whipped around whilst your hand ripped open your cabinet, holding up and pointing a loaded gun to the intruder.

“Shoot, and you die.”

Your eyes narrowed at the man in front of you, only normalizing when you saw the symbol on his chest. Militia. You lowered your gun and slid it on the desk, closing your computer while you were at it.

“You wanna pay for my window?” You asked, cross armed and leaning against your desk chair. A small scoff sounded from the man before you, he took a glance at your shattered window before turning back to you.

“Grab your stuff, you’re moving onsite.” The modulator barked at you. Your eyes widened slightly in confusion, on-site? For such a renowned group of individuals, they sure put a lot of trust in practical strangers. You didn’t argue, however, and disappeared into your closet to suit up. Decoding the lock on your clothing suitcase took all but a second, and you were faced with a series of items to dress in.

“So, boss told me you’re coming to replace first-in-command as the tech officer.” A small pause followed. “Our guy was good, he set our tanks up to lock and fire in second, made our men able to serve as medics mid battle...” You were barely listening to whatever boasting about his men he was doing, only honing in on the key details of each adjustment. You were done by the time he stopped talking, and when you opened the closet door he was facing you, arms crossed.

“So, think you’re better than him?” He asked, this time carrying a tone of curiosity. You tilted your head slightly, a small smile following as a hand behind your back pushed a button on your waist. You lifted your hand to your shoulder, touching the two only for a second. In reaction, a small burst of electricity tried to coil around your fingers, but you pulled away too fast.

“What do you think?” This time it was your turn to ask, awaiting a response as you pressed the button once more to deactivate the electricity field. The man didn’t answer you, instead making his way to the window and grabbing a grappling device from his pocket.

“I’m impressed so far. Now follow, and make sure to keep close.” His head quickly turned back to look at you. “I’m supposed to be an escort, so do us both a favor and don’t get lost.”

With that, he dove out of your apartment, leaving you to hop right on his trail. Aggressive gusts of wind apprehended your face, making tracking your escort slightly more difficult. One second he was in sight, and the next he was gone, swinging to a new building top and challenging you to keep track of each movement. His grappling device made easy work of the job, even allowing you to run at his side a few times, something he seemed to be surprised by. As grappling became easier, you allowed yourself a little leeway from the task, turning your head to admire the city scenery. Surprisingly no one noticed you two, every citizen and tourist below remained oblivious and drowned out by the noise of the streets. Even you could faintly hear the music and shouts, quiet through sharp whistles of air.

Soon enough, you were both stopped above a building on a boardwalk street, facing the morning’s receded tides, alongside the quiet sound of calm waves and chirping seagulls. You also noticed the slow increase in heat, although today seemed as if the weather would be toned down a bit in comparison to normal days. Over your observations, you could hear soft chattering a few feet away form your escort, hand held up to his ear and other arm rested at his side. A few minutes passed until the talking died down, you could hear the approach of footsteps encouraging you to turn your head and await your next set of orders.

“Listen up, we’re right above our pickup location. All we have to do now is wait for a red and white unit to come for us, and then we’ll be on route to base.” The modulated voice explained, no hint of emotion of rise of tone in his words. He stood next to you, and it was only a guess that he was also watching the rocking waves in the distance.

“The Militia has made a hell of a lot of enemies, so we’ll have to keep our guard up the whole way there. Some of them probably heard that we’re getting a new head of technology,” His head turned slightly in your direction.“, and the Arkham Knight, the other first in command is the escort.”

“The Arkham Knight, huh?” Your first choice of commentary led the Arkham Knight to fully turn your way. Before he could speak again, you continued. “Is our unit fit with weaponry?”

When a nod answered your question, you let out a small sigh and pressed a few keys on a device imbedded into the armor on your right arm. “Then we shouldn’t be worried. The most of the groups you’ve pissed off include low threat gangs, the most they could do is chase us with a broken down sports car.”

A small chuckle sounded from the modulator beside you as your ride pulled up to the extraction point, fit with two sentry guns on each side. You were about to help yourself up when the Arkham Knight’s hand reached for your own, quickly lifting you to your feet.

“Wow, didn’t know the Arkham Knight was such a gentleman.” You exclaimed, adding a teasing undertone to your words. Not waiting for a response, you began scaling down the building. You would hear plenty more from him when you hit the ground.