#they're so unbelievably weird about all of this

[danthropologie]

Maybe if team members are doing this is because Daniel told them that it’s happening? Like maybe himself decided that this will be the outcome, even if nothing is signed yet? I don’t know, I want to still have hope until there’s an official statement, but everything seems to point there, even if to me this is unbelievable (I’m writing through tears)

However, Checo still there makes me boil with rage and also Horner being so vague in his post-race interview like we don’t that he doesn’t care about anything but money!!

but even if that were the case, there's no reason for them to be posting before an official announcement is made. in what world would it be appropriate to post about such huge news like that before he's even been able to say a word about it himself. TO ME it seems more likely that they know nothing and they're jumping the gun based on pure vibes alone. either way it's fucking dumb and they need to stop.

the checo of it all is CRAZYYYYYYY to me because how is there next to no conversation about him whatsoever? fucking disaster class last week, lost them the constructors, cost them millions, was cruising around fighting with williams and haases today, finished p10 just baaaarely scraping up a single point and not a SINGLE. FUCKING. WORD. about it. it's genuinely insane.

and the christian thing is weird to me cause it's like. obviously at this point we can't trust him further than we can throw him. nothing that he says necessarily means anything. BUUUUUUT in his f1tv post race interview (idk if there was a sky one, i only saw f1tv), he did kind of get a little dig in at checo mentioning how long he spent 'staring at the back of a haas'. and then when he talked about daniel, he mentioned they know his capabilities, they know what he's done, how he proved it again with that fastest lap that ultimately helped them a bit by taking a point off lando. he also obviously said they need to 'evaluate all possibilities' or whatever the line is, but overall it felt much more positive in daniel's direction than not? it's just that that was immediately followed by daniel getting emotional in the media pen and that kind of took all the wind out of everybody's sails.

idk i just feel like there's still a way back from this, red bull needs to just fucking say SOMETHING (like literally ANYTHING) and apologize to daniel for the way this weekend was handled. the problem is i don't know if they're capable of that lmao

[maddy-ferguson]

someone on twitter praised travis whatever his name is for *being willing to associate himself with taylor's purse*

[llycaons]

this is definitely bc I'm coming at it as a fan of the live action and not the book it is just so bizarre to see lwj presented as a super experienced and confident and suave sex expert right out of the gate. it just goes against all my perceptions of him as a character. except confidence maybe. to be clear he is horny and all I just don't think he'd really get very far with anyone beside wwx

[bewby]

soooo insane how depression actually affects the way i talk/speak/my speech patterns/etc like not only have i lost motivation to even talk to myself and it's rotting my brain away but i also forgot how to talk to others entirely because it has become. exhausting for me. awesome

[infizero]

once again very awesome normal 100% cis reactions from yellow over here about revealing they're a girl in front of the last person who didnt know and didnt treat them like a girl (who also happens to be their crush)

[britneyshakespeare]

brandi glanville is so weird to james maslow in celebrity big brother season 1. she is so clearly mean bc she’s attracted to him. when they’re laughing behind james’ back bc he said he didn’t want to wear a leotard as a punishment and brandi’s like “he probably doesn’t want everyone to see the small outline” it’s like... girl first of all ew. second of all why are you making me defend the size of his dick bc that’s definitely not true

[evilminji]

You think the Zone has its version of Comic Con?

Like? Think about it. You have literally all of time to work on it, your Magnum Opus, your life's work. That DREAM comic. All the supplies you could ever wish for. Endless paper. Endless ink. You can practice and practice for CENTURIES until it's JUST right.

Wouldn't you want to share it?

There are definitely Ghosts who have Obsessions that make them collect.

And two people meeting would lead to a group. Lead to a bigger group. Lead to a large group. A gathering. A crowd even. Eventually you need a Lair to meet IN. It becomes An Event.

People hear about it.

Want to bring other art mediums. Food stalls. Report on it. It grows. Shoot offs start happening. Niche meet ups.

But like?

Unlike comic con? It's all FREE. Sure, you might have fork over the ecto to make your copy. And yeah, weaker ghosts can only do that so many times. Will have to prioritize. But? They can come back after leaving for a nap. Ask a buddy to come with. There ARE work arounds.

Just? Imagine the unbelievable HIPE? Danny would feel? But be unable to TELL anyone about? Zone Con happens several times a year! Cause so many people wanna come. The Zone being infinite, after all.

Problem 1? They're using THEIR standard of a "year". Which is actual 5 earth years. So it's only happens every year and a half for him. And Problem 2? He can't even TALK about how excited he is about Z Con with anyone (outside his friends and family) because they haven't heard of it and might Ask Questions.

It's ALSO held in a part of the Zone that's like? Three days of flying away from the portal. And no amount of begging is gonna get any of his loved ones to camp in the Speeder for around six-ish days just to go to a Con.

So you can imagine his DELIGHT. His utter JOY and *Target Spotted* "!!!" Noise, when? In the crowd? He spots A HUMAN! Hi fellow human!!! Omg, wanna be Con Besties? *doesn't even wait for an answer*

So now? This sad, blonde, deeply lost and kinda alarmed, trench coat dude? Is Danny's new Z Con Going Bestie! You got a map yet, bestie? No? That's cool, he has one. By the way, he has human food in the Speeder if you nee-

YES!

Cause, see, here's the THING. John? Lost to the Realms Infinte. Or Infinte Realms. Translation was iffy... and on fire... like the rest of the building. It was him or the kids those psychos had kidnapped, for what fucked "ritual" the voices in their heads, that THEY thought were demons but frankly he's pretty sure was just feedback from-

Look, doesn't matter, he had to choose. He always knew someday he'd have too. That even twisting Luck and talking fast wouldn't quite be enough. And he had to decide, in that moment, which outcome mattered more to him. They get out safe, or he does.

Wasn't much of a question, was it?

So, there he is. Staring down oblivion and all those debts unpaid. 'Bout to see who's gonna come for him this time, and take what left of wretched soul. When? He bleeds on the FUCKIN two-bit crap circle they squiggled in God only knows what. Remembers that "oh YEAH, set dressings!" Sometimes when you focus too hard on insuring a Good Outcome?

You weird weird as shit byproducts happening on the side to balance it all out.

Or BAD ones.

He wakes up someone fucking green and crowded. For the life of him can't tell you which one it is. And THAT was of course, bout two days ago.

Biggest and most immediate problem? He... does NOT recognize what flavor of magical fuckery this is. Doesn't seem Fae. And doesn't smell like Hell. There are... there are honest to God BOOTH BABES hanging around. Hunks too. The view is LOVELY.

And nerdy.

Very, very nerdy.

But he isn't THAT out of touch. So he should recognize SOMETHING. Or at least the languages. But nope! It's like aliens and magic had a nerd baby and dipped it in GREEN. And the worst thing? Is there is food everywhere, but it all glows and John's not stupid enough to eat it.

Then? Sweet merciful fuck. Salvation! Some teeny bopper Barely No Longer Teen fresh faced INFANT of a Hero kid. With a SHIP. Who has FOOD and a clear idea of where they are. Hello~ John's new BEST FRIEND. Yes. Absolutely. Con Buddies, whatever.

Just feed me, kid.

Only? Once he inhales like 5 "Fenton rations"? He only gets half way through introducing himself before getting interrupted. Kid hears "magic" and "occult Detective" and just? Goes "oh! So you wanna check out the magic Ally with me? Sam wanted me to pick up some witchy stuff!"

..............how magic?

(In Which? Constantine becomes Danny's interdimensional Con buddy)

@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @nerdpoe

[emeraldbloodcrown]

i'm thinking of an alpha 141, with price and simon being you stereotypical alphas, while johnny and kyle might be mistaken for betas - until you piss them off and then even price and simon struggle to hold them back.

they're all alphas but they're also all part of the same pack, which wasn't planned by either of them but it's not unheard of for that to happen in a task force as close knit as the 141. it's their bread and butter to go into the most dangerous situations, to protect one another, to take bullets or knifes for the others; they're the only ones who can actually understand the depth of the trauma each of them is going through.

of course they'd bond together and form a pack. but they're all also alphas. alphas with a desperate wish to mate and breed, and they can't do that with each other, they need an omega for that. but an omega who not only accepts and respects their weird pack dynamic but actively wants that? unheard of, chances so slim they were non-existent.

but so were the chances of simon crawling out of that grave or johnny recovering from that shot to the head.

and they did find one, someone who loved all four of them, someone who wanted to be their mate and give them a child. a beautiful little girl, who somehow seemed to share all of their appearances. and it was perfect.

until it wasn't. until these alphas had to gravel with the situation that their omega was gone, mating bond ripped apart, and their little girl screaming her lungs out. so used to the omega's scent, which after months of trying their best was now fully gone, that it put her in severe distress for weeks on end, leaving not only her but her fathers restless.

and then there's you, their newly moved in neighbor, they only knew their name from their landlord when they came back from their latest mission, knocking and looking just as stressed as them.

price had opened the door for you, chest puffed and ready to tear you apart for coming at his pack but you were calm..exhausted beyond belief, of course, but understanding and most of all concerned for their girl..

"all that screaming can't be healthy for her either"

you had a small container with you, a remedy from your great-grandmother, all herbal so as not to offend her nose, that needs to be rubbed into her chest before bed.

"i'll just leave it here, maybe it helps"

johnny, always the perceptive one, will forever remember how you smiled sadly at their daughter, how your fingers seemed to itch towards her before you remembered your place and just left.

they would soon find out that you were an utter blessing, kind to the bone and so unbelievably considerate. the ointment worked wonders and for the first time in over a month, they saw their daughter smile again and each other finally relax.

and from that point on, johnny was gone, absolutely enamored by you and always jumping at the chance to invite you into their circles, knowing full well the others were much more hesitant, the pain and trauma from their omega abandoning them still stiff in their bones.

but they'd see what he already saw, and it was like you wanted to prove him right when you found out about what happened to their omega, to the one among them that should be bonded the closest to their little girl but was still able to just leave.

you clenched your fingers so tight he was almost afraid you'd break something, the muscles in your neck tightened and you downright snarled, nostrils flared and lip pulled back.

"is...is that normal? her screaming like that for weeks on end? is that likely to happen with something like this?"

the air in the room tensed, charged, similar to before a storm, and it answered all of their suspicion, when they gave you the answer that yes, it was normal - and it audibly cracked around you, like thunder striking, and you had to take a deep breath, mumbling in an old language to let your environment not be influenced by your emotions, lest you hurt or scare any of them.

"you're a witch"

and damn, it should terrify him, witches and shifters don't mix well but all he can think of is that he was right, you were perfect for them, your protectiveness of their daughter only outmatched by them, and if johnny hadn't already made up his mind, hadn't already talked it through with his pack, this would definitely solidify it:

witch or not, you were theirs and mark or not, they'd never let you leave again.

[dedalvs]

When looking at natural languages, have you ever found a feature that really surprised you?

All the time—and in every language! There is no language—even the big ones that are so widely spoken that they're thought of as "normal"—that can be described as basic or boring—no, not even languages like English or Spanish or German. Every language has something exciting—multiple somethings.

For the latest, here's something weird. In Finnish, numbers trigger singular agreement on the verb. Observe:

Hiiri juoksee. "The mouse is running."

Hiiret juoksevat. "The mice are running."

Viisi hiirtä juoksee. "Five mice are running."

Okay, this make sense so far? Hiiri is "mouse", hiiret is "mice", and we have the agreement on the verb as either juoksee for singular ("is running") or juoksevat for plural ("are running"). The number five is viisi and it causes the following noun to be in the partitive singular, which is hiirtä (think of it like "five of mouse"). "Partitive singular?" you say. "Why, that's why the verb is singular!" Okay. Sure. A fine hypothesis.

Now let's look at relative clauses.

How about "The mouse who is running is small"? Sure. Here it is in singular and plural:

Hiiri, joka juoksee, on pieni.

Hiiret, jotka juoksevat, ovat pieniä.

There we are. I am 99% sure that is correct (where I'm unsure is the predicative adjectival agreement and I won't speak to how common this type of relative clause structure is).

Now, knowing what we do about the five mice above, you might expect you'd get singular, but...

Viisi hiirtä, jotka juoksevat, ovat pieniä.

Okay, going out on a limb on this one, but I am fairly certain this is correct. That is you get singular plural agreement with the matrix verb suddenly (?!) but also plural agreement with the relative clause. You have to get a plural verb because it's agreeing with jotka, but why do you get jotka instead of joka?! It's plural enough for a relative pronoun but not for a matrix verb?! How weird is that?!

So yeah. Unbelievable stuff happening in every language every single day. Somewhere right this very moment some language is doing something no language could EVER possibly do—and yet there it is, happening all the same! What a wonderful world we live in. :)

Update: Finnish speaker has offered corrections and it’s just weirder now.

[oikasugayama]

YOU CATCH HIM M@STURBAT!NG pt. 5

MDNI, this is a NSFW series for adults

pt 1. Fyodor, Poe, Chuuya | pt. 2 Fukuzawa, Kunikida, Dazai | pt. 3 Ranpo, Akutagwa, Ango | pt. 4 Sigma, Mori, Tetcho | pt. 5 (Finale) Atsushi, Nikolai

Atsushi

such a sweet boy... he's so down bad for you.

it's very obvious to everyone, including yourself, that he has a crush on you. he blushes every time you come in the room, he greets you overly-politely and always offers to run errands for you while he's out, and when you have to go on missions he makes sure to tell you good luck and he hopes you come back safely. he stares at you when you're working, eventually gathering the courage to tell you that he thinks you're very pretty, and he even admits that he likes you when ranpo and dazai threaten to tell you.

he tells you no pressure, don't worry about saying anything back, he doesn't intend on asking you out or anything because you're too good for him... but you surprise him and say you'd like to get to know him better as friends and maybe eventually you could go on a date.

he's over the moon!!!!!!!! and so you start spending time together outside of work, which was never an issue until you accidentally fall asleep at his place one evening.

you wake up on the couch and atsushi is nowhere to be seen. you rub the sleep out of your eyes, get up, and shuffle to the bathroom because you really have to peeee

and before you open the bathroom door, you turn your head to look at the source of a noise and see into atsushi's bedroom. he's sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes are screwed tightly shut, and he's rubbing his cock quickly. you're in awe, unbelieving that you've caught him doing this while you're visiting, and with his bedroom door open.

and then something shocks you more.

he cums, using his free hand to catch his mess, and you hear a very whiny, shaky moans of your name come out of his mouth.

you gasp, and his eyes snap open, his head turning to you.

"oh shit-- [y/n] i-- i'm so sorry, please dont--"

you run into the bathroom, locking yourself in. you have to gather yourself for a good couple of minutes before you can act normally again.

he knocks softly on the door, and you don't answer. he knocks again.. and again... he calls for you, and finally you open the door as he's about to knock another time.

his face is beet red, his eyes full of guilt. he tells you he's sorry, something came over him and he just couldn't help himself. he wasn't trying to being gross or weird and he's so so so so so so sorry

he's very surprised when you shrug and say you've thought about him while masturbating too.

Nikolai

you think you have the wrong hotel room when you open the door to find a white-haired man spread out on your bed completely in the nude, but then you notice a pair of your panties in his hand, wrapped around his hard cock

"i'm calling security"

"no need," he sighs happily. "i'm sure you'll find they're all on my side."

you try to call his bluff, but he's surprisingly fast and he springs out of bed, grabbing you and closing the door before you can get away.

"i've been waiting for you for so long! you can't go away yet!" he crowds you against the door, locking you in with his body

"it's you... you're the one who's been following me through town."

"you're just so beautiful," he says, trailing a finger down your cheek. "I had to have you to myself."

"who are you?" you ask with a shaking voice.

"i'm Nikolai, and i'm your man for the evening. once i've had my fun i'll leave, but i have a feeling you'll want me to come back" ;)

[great-and-small]

I know you're a fan of animal husbandry and the human animal connection so i have a recommendation for you if you haven't seen it, Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. The horse movements, including the correct ear movements when they're scared or calm/happy are so perfect. The story of the different ways you can tame a horse, through love or fear, the parallels of the destruction of Native land and culture between Little Creek and Spirit. The landscape paintings! It makes me yearn for the desert and I think you'd like it

Oh man I love love love that movie. When I was a kid I watched it over and over and the opening transition scene as Spirit grows up always made me cry. To this day seeing any old Buckskin horse makes my heart flutter a bit ❤️

As you said, it’s one of the best Children’s movies to explore the human animal bond, and I am always more interested in stories that examine animal exploitation alongside human exploitation. The two are so often linked that it’s hard to faithfully talk about one without the other. The nature of Little Creek and Spirit’s bond is the emotional centerpiece of the movie and a superb way to start talking to kids about how the way we connect to animals matter immensely.

This is going to sound like a weird aspect of this but I am also really really into the way horses run. Seeing a horse that loves to run just absolutely fly and let loose running in an open area literally gives me goosebumps. If there are horses in a movie Im watching and I don’t get to see them running full speed I will be grouchy (possibly relevant info: I learned to ride on a retired racing thoroughbred).

Running is what horses have evolved to do over millions of years and the result is an astonishing feat of biomechanics. My equine anatomy classes were so fucking hard for me due to the painstaking detail in understanding the structures that allow horses to stand and run in the way they do; it’s unbelievably complex (look into the stay apparatus for just a small taste). To see all of those tendons, ligaments, vessels, nerves, and muscles come together with such fluidity and grace is just one of the coolest products of evolution that we see today. It will never become mundane to me!

For an animated movie from the early 2000’s , it just blows me away how beautifully they render the horses running. You can tell they watched a lot of real animals to get it right. Something about those horses running across beautiful landscapes is just uniquely moving. I don’t know why but I am very much with you, in that this film fills me with yearning.

[kiragecko]

The Husband is reading Feet of Clay to nq (our eldest) and me. I last read it over a decade ago. What's hitting me this time is how Pratchett likes hammering his point home through multiple channels.

-

This is a book about respectability politics, discrimination, and privilege. The golems are the A-plot, loosely standing in for trafficked people/undocumented immigrants. (They also share some similarities to disabled experiences.)

But the book has SO MANY subplots, all sending the same message!

-

Cheri is constantly kicking down - trying to figure out how to survive as a dwarf in a human-centric city, while badmouthing the undead. It has echoes both of assimilated immigrants turning on newer, less acceptable ones AND 'normal' gays trying to distance themselves from the 'weird' queers.

The key to Vetinari's poisoning is recognizing the classist forces acting on the palace servants/the residents of Cockbill Street. How their desire to stay respectable holds them down, keeps them hungry and meek. How a healthy powerful man can survive, but a poor baby and old woman are vulnerable. And we see how they kick down as well - tormenting William Scuggins, who seems to have been either mentally disabled or mentally ill, for entertainment.

And the royal plot is contrasted with Vimes' mutterings about how the common people suffered under royalty but are still attracted to it. How they seem to WANT someone above them. Sure, some people might suffer, but nobody thinks it will be THEM, so it's fine.

-

Reading it again makes it almost unbelievable that people were trying to suggest Pratchett would be anti-trans. Right after Cheri comes out, Angua takes her to an undead bar, where it's repeatedly mentioned that people who "can't pass" can "be themself." When she chooses her new name, Angua thinks about how most people wouldn't have associated that name with someone with a full beard, but now they're going to have to. It's not subtle.

(There's also a woman with dementia there, in one of the books examples of how NOT to kick down. Pratchett doesn't DIRECTLY focus on disability this book, but there are a lot of little moments. (All the golems use AAC!))

-

I don't know. I'm just struck by how intersectionalist Pratchett's politics were. How this story can have 4 very different plots going on at the same time, but all of them have the same message.

He was a really great writer.

[gayraeofsun]

i just really want to scream about this movie into the void because it was so well done, and i doubt anyone will really see this but i don't really have anyone i could have a deep discussion about this with.

trigger warning and spoiler warning ahead for the movie blink twice. content ahead discusses themes around sa, including r*pe, drugging, manipulation, and general physical/verbal abuse.

i don't keep up with any previews or recent movie releases much anymore, so i was going into this movie almost completely blind like i do with most new movies anymore. i had seen one preview, but it was apparently plain and simple enough for me to mostly forget about it. the irony in that will be made known a bit later on.

the movie automatically opens with a screen that displays a trigger warning, which is something that i had been seeing for the first time in any kind of visual media. normally these things are already listed by the ratings, but as a sa survivor who had no idea what this movie was going to be, it was a good thing to see so i could brace myself for what was to come. do i think this is necessary for any and every movie of this kind? no, it feels a little redundant (again, these things are typically included in the ratings). and, well, asking me to not watch if it would upset me is kind of a no deal, since i paid for a ticket and popcorn to see this on the big screen.

we're immediately introduced to our two main characters, two best friends, and it's hard to not immediately fall for their relationship with each other. so playful and silly and ridiculous, you can immediately tell they adore each other's company in their shitty job living in their shitty apartment, and you can tell that they're written by a woman who loves these characters and wants to portray them as relatable people. the interactions between the whole cast of girls, i think, was just outstandingly done. they felt realistic, not constantly shitting on each other and fighting for the attention of the men (though some jealousy of that fashion is still portrayed). they were all there enjoying the island and they ended up bonding together wonderfully. they were funny without being over-the-top rude or nasty or promiscuous, as is portrayed commonly in female characters in popular media. i can't and won't stop gushing over how much these characters felt just like real life girls that i was hanging out with.

this movie was really great at putting a pit in your stomach and slowly making it grow. of course, the trigger warning at the beginning spoils what's to come, so for me the pit was there from the start. any sensible person who's been socialized to be a woman will know, you don't ever just run away with some random ass group of men you don't know to the middle of nowhere with no cell service. but the little things that make the main character, frida, stop and question are so subtle, and so easily dismissed to start with. the used lip gloss in the drawer, the available clothes despite being an "unexpected" guest, the weird cleaning staff. but they increasingly get more odd. the island is full of venomous snakes and they all have to be killed on sight. something about these flirty interactions isn't quite right anymore, and he's talking about repressed memories. what day even is it? why am i always waking up with dirt under my nails?

who even knows or cares though, since we're all high and/or drunk 24/7. welcome to paradise!

it builds and builds until it begins to unravel, slowly and then all at once as the girls come to the realization of what happens to them every night when they get unbelievably high after dinner. the bond between the first two to piece it together was outstanding, and i love that there wasn't a cheap "find the phones and call authorities" plan. they worked out why that wouldn't work at all, because who would they believe? the "hysterical bitches" making claims without any kind of solid evidence, or the rich white man who's now a reformed soul and probably good friends with some of the cops?

the ending is not a happy one, in my eyes, though i believe it was probably supposed to be portrayed as one? two girls live and three girls die by the end. the ringmaster (ceo) of the whole thing ends up accidentally taking his own forgetfulness juice and suddenly doesn't understand what's going on and why all his friends are dead or have been otherwise brutalized. he knocks over lit candles and then trips and knocks himself out in his stupor, and the island burns down, the photographic evidence (that was later discovered) and all. i thought it was just going to end there and we would be left with the ambiguous ending, and that's never satisfying and feels very overdone anymore.

but instead, we're given a scene where our main character is now the ceo of the company, and legally married to the man who lured her away and horrifically abused her. twice. i interpreted this as her getting her own form of justice/revenge. i doubt she gives him half the treatment he gave her, but now she controls him and everything he owns and knew, and gets every bit of respect she wants. he killed her best friend and two other girls after overpowering the lot of them every single night. in a perfect world, he'd get tried and punished for his crimes legally. but all the evidence of it ever happening burned to the ground. so this is what she does to cope. in the final scene, she seems very satisfied, more than pleased to make her new husband's old crew squirm. she becomes the thing that destroyed her and so many others (but yk, most likely without the rapist cult).

one character i very suddenly grew interested in was the scrawniest boy in the group. he flies perfectly under the radar and doesn't appear in many of scenes that portray the gruesome sa. the one where he's in clear view, he appears to be another victim, trying to flee from one of the bigger men and receiving a black eye, which he would have no memory of getting the next morning. he's told by one of the girls that he smells nice, most likely referencing the perfume that was making them forget everything. it seemed very clear that he was in a victim role here as well, likely also being sa-ed. but he's never seen bound and gagged with the girls.

his final scene gets interesting when the ceo berates him for doing nothing to help the girls the entire time (yeah, the same ceo millionaire who's been basically orchestrating this whole sick fucking show in his perfect little getaway island). how he thinks there's a special place in hell for people who sit and do nothing in the face of evil. there are two very different ways to interpret this. 1) he wasn't actually getting drugged and abused with the girls, and was there as someone who didn't actively participate in abusing the girls, but also didn't do anything to try to stop it either. this could be blatant commentary on the two types of evil; while "not all men" r*pe and abuse people, not enough men will speak out against it or try to run to the victim's defense. or 2) the ceo was casting blame onto someone who was genuinely confused as to what was happening (which seems to ring true in both scenarios), and someone who was also a victim and stuck in a completely helpless situation. both could hold some level of truth, but ultimately i read him as the latter, thinking he was meant to represent the less common male victim. he gets killed by one of the girls, who wasn't specifically targeting him but also wasn't taking any chances, and that's the last we see of him. in my eyes he could either be read as the kind of evil that merely observes and therefore was rightfully murdered, or he could represent his male victims often get forgotten about or less acknowledged, which could speak as to why he was killed off so quickly never to be discussed again.

and i've gotta say, one thing i really appreciate about the scenes depicting r*pe is that it put a lot of the focus on the r*pists and not their victims. they were careful to not show any nudity or any shots of the women getting r*ped, but still showed them getting forced down when they tried to flee. i have not personally seen any other graphic scenes of this nature in other movies, but from what i hear a lot of it can get rather pornographic, and i feel like that's incredibly distasteful when you're trying to depict something that's absolutely vile. this movie does a great job of getting the absolute terror of the moment across without compromising any of the actresses by posing them seductively or showing off their bodies, and same goes for the men (if you don't count a couple of them being shirtless).

the writing is so wonderful, and the little clues as to what's happening beneath the surface are so good and plentiful. this is a movie that i don't think i'd ever be able to sit through again, but the sense of dread that continued to grow and grow will surely stick with me. it was very darkly funny in many places, which did great to break up some of the tension. for anyone who was able to stomach it, i would highly recommend watching through it once you're able. i think it was outstandingly well done and handled certain things as well as it could without watering any of it down.

[lakesbian]

recently remembered that at the end of worm aisha talks about stealing people's pants every time they go to the bathroom and it was cracking me up. she's so fucking funny.

Like imagine what this is like from the perspective of the person she's stalking. They go to the bathroom, and when they're done, they realize that their pants are gone. They know they were wearing their pants, they clearly remember pulling them down. They were looking at them less than a minute ago. It's completely confounding, because it's not possible for them to have simply misplaced an entire pair of pants somewhere between pulling them down and using the toilet. And yet, their pants are gone. They check the laundry room, their laundry hamper, their bedroom, and anywhere else they could have feasibly put their pants in the event they were just...imagining that they were wearing pants into the bathroom? But the pants remain gone, having seemingly vanished from the universe while they weren't paying attention, so they have to just go put on new pants. Maybe they post about it on Earth Bet's equivalent of a glitch in the matrix subreddit or whatever, but without any real chance of an explanation, they eventually stop thinking about it.

Until the next time they go to the bathroom. When their pants disappear again. And the next time after that, and the next next time after that, and so on. It is no longer mildly bemusing. Things have evolved beyond "that weird thing that happened to me once that I might tell as a story later" and into "I only have 2 pairs of pants left, because the rest of them disappeared into the fucking ether when I went to the bathroom, and now I'm both scared to pee and afraid that I am either going crazy or being haunted by some sort of niche vengeful ghost that other people will think I'm crazy if I try to tell them about."

And, more practically pressing than the subtle horror of a large object just magically disappearing off your person at regular times in a way you can't ascertain the cause of or stop: They're gonna have to buy new pants.

So they go to a clothing store. They briefly consider using the bathroom while there, but then remember The Consequences, and go straight it the changing rooms instead. They hang up their new pant selections. They look away for a mere moment to take off their current (and last remaining) pair of pants. They look back up and reach for one of the pants they're going to try on.

All Of The Pants They Brought Into The Stall Are Gone.

They immediately look back down, with the frantic horror of someone who already knows what they're going to see, and well you're not going to fucking believe this, but: The Pair Of Pants They Were Already Wearing Is Also Gone.

like what do you even do about this. absurd form of psychological torture. aisha smiling smugly while her victim stands there stranded in naught but underpants, haunted and vexed by the unbelievable pants-stealing ghost. maybe they try to tell their friends about it and demonstrate after that and it's the one time she Doesn't take their pants. they think they're going completely batshit or being tormented by a very immature demon. aisha laborn you are so so special and famous to me

[sincerelymina]

shades of cool

content ꒰ 4.0k ꒱ damnation leon x female reader.  unrequited love.  slight age difference if ya nasty.  hard angst.  hurt/no comfort.  mild smut (p in v).  very very toxic behavior from leon.  you just want to be loved.  leon couldn't care less—but there's a catch. he says the thing !! could also be interchangeable with vendetta leon. not proofread. author's note shoutout to @vaaaaaiolet for the endless support & help !! be sure to check her stuff out as well, they're a godsend. i listened to a weird mix of lana del rey and jeff buckley while writing this, so do with that what you will. reblogs & comments are highly appreciated !! ꣑ৎ

moonlight pours in through the curtains, casting a soft glow in the embrace of your bedroom. every night slowly began to feel longer than the last, sleep eluding you despite the exhaustion that lingered in your bones. you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of leon's absence pressing heavily onto your chest. nine days of unrelenting radio silence. 

you missed the comfort of his presence, the rough kisses he'd leave on your soft lips, the sweet nothings he'd coo into your ears as he thrusted in & out of you like his life depended upon it. 

the darkness whispers into the tiny room, enticing your doubts and fears, weaving them into the delicate fabric of your thoughts. maybe he ran into ada. despite the sour taste the theory left behind, it made sense, much to your dismay. 

you had nothing on her. how could a tough agent, known to be quick on her feet, be so naïve to think that leon truly was over the woman in red—did you seriously think he was in love with you now? it was pitiful by all means. 

whatever you had going on with the man, it was anything but love. sure, you might've been so utterly transfixed by the man, enough to the point where you always at his beck and call. but he surely didn't feel as strongly towards you. you were just easy, so pliable in his calloused hands. leon was a cruel, broken man that simply took what he wanted and left you with nothing.

yet still, you'd be waiting for him with open arms—and legs.

you were like a moth, irresistibly drawn to a flame that would eventually burn you. a light that you'd always come crawling back to, even if it singed your wings.

rain pelted against your window, bathing the room in a comfortable silence, spare for the pitter-patter upon glass. it does little to quell the hollow beating of your heart, the racing thoughts in your restless mind. this week had been full of one too many sleepless nights. you just wanted to finally succumb to your exhaustion, pretend leon didn't exist just for a few hours.

but you were too damn weak. such a slave for his attention, for his "love." you'd do just about anything for the older man's approval. everything about your self-worth was based upon those icy blues. not even the desire to sleep could surpass the desperation for him. 

leon's shoulders sagged as fatigue coursed through his blood, hot and heavy. rain splatters against the bottoms of his dark blue jeans, his motorcycle coming to a halt in front of your apartment complex. with a smooth twist of the throttle and a gentle squeeze of the brakes, the tires skid against the gravel, followed by the rumble of the engine fading into a soft purr. 

his brown hair was sodden with water droplets, the strands sticking to his forehead. a sharp sigh left the expanse of his lungs as he swung his leg over the seat and dismounted from his bike. just his luck, leon thought with a grimace, that a storm hit mid-ride.

as he walked through the lobby, heading straight for the elevator, leon silently wondered what the hell he was doing. a part of him felt unbelievably guilty for taking advantage of your feelings like this, always expecting you to allow him into your place, even on a whim like this. especially after not bothering to send a single text to you for well over a week.

the pad of his thumb pushes the button, the elevator doors splitting open. leon pushes any feelings of shame to the far back of his mind, focusing on the main task at hand—sex. that's all this was to him after all. he couldn't be bothered with commitment. 

years of slaving away for the government had etched a weariness into his bones, leaving him a hollow shell of who he once was. one whose heart, that once yearned for love—similar, if not identical, to the kind you felt for him—now laid dormant beneath a shroud of emotional detachment. 

that kept the guilt that wrapped around his heart at bay, a poor excuse for how he treated you.

a few moments pass before the elevator's doors slide open with a soft hum. leon steps out, finding his way to your place as if it were second nature, which at this point, it was safe to say it was. his muscles memorized the entire way, every twist and turn. soon enough, he was right at your doorstep, anticipation thrumming in his veins.

a knock against the front door shattered the silence that encased your apartment, the sound of someone's fist rapping against the wood rippling through the quiet atmosphere. it causes you to jerk upwards, afraid of who might be waiting at the door at two in the fucking morning. it couldn't be leon, he was the last person you expected—then again, him showing up on a whim wasn't a foreign notion between the two of you. 

expecting the worst, you kick the comforter off your body, allowing it to cascade to the ground as you carefully step outside your bedroom. swiping your handgun off the kitchen counter—because of course, you'd carelessly left it there—you then pad down the threshold, one foot in front of the other.

the sound of shuffling on the other side of the door isn't lost on leon, to which he furrowed his brows, wondering why you were taking your sweet time heading towards it. "it's me," he says gruffly, the deep baritone reverberating off of the hallway's walls. 

you could recognize that voice from a mile away, unfortunately. your heart thumped in the confines of your chest, beating erratically at the knowledge of who was behind that door. you swallow hard, hand hovering over the cool metal of the knob before turning it slowly, revealing the man you had been longing to see.

remnants of the pouring rain outside glistened on his worn leather jacket as leon stood stiffly in the doorway, with a sullen yet exhausted expression sewn between his features. droplets clung to his hair, tracing rivulets down his face like tears mingling with the dark circles beneath his eyes. icy blues pierce through your own. he was so gorgeous, it physically pained you.

he was actually here, at your doorstep, in the flesh.

a puzzled look finds its way onto your face, mingling with the tiredness in your eyes. in disbelief, you mutter, "leon?"

"can i come in?" leon asks, not giving you any context as to why he just showed up after days of no communication. his eyes rake over you, taking in your appearance—tousled hair, thin tank top and shorts, sluggish demeanor. you looked so pretty in the dim light.

"it's two am." you say matter-of-factly, eyes now glued to the floor. 

his jaw clenches, biting his tongue to hold back a snarky remark you didn't deserve. hell, you should've just slammed the door on his face, without a single word, and he would have no right to be angry at you about it.

so, leon resorts to simply inquiring, "is that a no?"

"not exactly," your voice was subdued, weak. should you let him inside? you mull over the thought, letting it ripple through your mind, like a pebble dropped in a pond. despite your better judgment, you step aside, letting him walk past you and into your humble abode. he mutters a quiet thanks as he shrugs his jacket off.

the living room held its breath along with the two of you, the air thick with unspoken words. the silence stretched like a taut wire, vibrating with the weight of your incessant thoughts. with a heavy sigh, leon collapsed onto the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. you hate how he's acting as if everything between the two of you was normal, like he hadn't been deliberately ignoring you for days.

"so…" you break the stillness, unable to take it anymore. "are you just going to pretend everything is okay, like you haven't been ignoring every single one of my calls?" despite how fragile you sounded, your misery was clear as day. 

"here we go," leon grumbles to himself, still audible enough for you to hear. "listen, i was busy, okay?" his tone goes shifted from quiet to frustrated, refusing to look you in the eyes as you tentatively stood a few feet away from him.

bitterly, he adds, "and i'm not obligated to. i'm not your little boyfriend. how many times do i have to remind you?" sure, it might've been common courtesy, but leon was stretched thin tonight, leaving you demurred and him unbothered. 

"i'm sorry," you sigh pathetically, feeling helpless. 

but instead of easing his nerves, your apology only further agitates him, "oh, now you're gonna go all pouty baby on me? give me a break." leon hisses, each word a stab to the heart. "jesus, you're hopeless." his eyes meet yours again, only this time with displeasure glimmering solemnly.

desperate for a shred of salvation, you clung to what little self respect you had left in your bones, determined to salvage any dignity you still possessed after all this. 

your brows knit in frustration, retorting back just as harshly, "you're the one who keeps showing up at ungodly hours, always expecting me to bend to your fucking will. you never call, never text, unless i do first, yet always expect me to welcome you in." 

your fists clench, fingernails digging crescents into your palms. you couldn't stand it anymore, being his bitch, always so compliant, so understanding of his random bursts of insensitivity. you could just tell that deep down, he knew this meant more to you, giving him all the more reason to keep coming back—it didn't help that you were really pretty too. he was blatantly taking advantage of your love, and with zero remorse at that, as the cherry on top.

leon groans in pure frustration, eyes fluttering shut, as his head tilted backwards, "i'm too fucking tired for this shit." brown locks of hair partially obscure the side of his face, a perfect silhouette of his side profile on display—he was infuriatingly handsome. he stood up, fixing you a look that could slice through stone. 

"i don't ever see you slamming the door in my face. you let me in like it's the one thing you're good at. always so fucking desperate to please someone who couldn't care less about you." 

the words are crueler than he wished they'd be, regret instantly hitting him like a pile of bricks. he could say he didn't mean that all he wants, but the words flowed so seamlessly, without a single stutter or falter. it was plain as day that this was how he truly felt—the raw, unequivocal truth. once spoken, undeniably irrevocable. and you both knew this.

and it stung, like a hard slap across the face. you would've preferred for him to do that; at least the pain would've withered away far quicker than the mental anguish you were left with now. even in his fit of rage, the defeated, wide-eyed expression you donned tugged at leon's heartstrings. 

uncomfortable silence lingers in the air like bad perfume. "don't look at me like that," leon mumbles softly. this wasn't how the script was supposed to unfold. you finally proved that you had some pride left in you, but he was so quick to shoot you down. everything had unraveled in the worst way possible.

his voice soft and gentle now, abandoning its previous ire. leon's mood always flipped like a light switch, annoyingly so. 

"i'm sorry, doll." apologizing felt like pulling teeth, and to his dismay, it was falling upon deaf ears. leon wasn't cruel, just unbelievably damaged. and unfortunately, you happened to be the best outlet to release that misery onto. it wasn't an excuse for how awfully he treated you, but rather an explanation. 

if you had half a mind you would've ended this charade long before it got to this level—for you, at least. things only seemed to be getting worse, and it was becoming more obvious that this was just a game to leon, while you were smitten. 

"forget it, leon, you should just go." you say lowly. 

"don't be like that." leon didn't want this trip to be a waste. "it's not my fault you're emotionally invested. i thought we made it crystal clear from the start that this wouldn't mean anything. zero commitment, zero obligations." a beat of silence passes, before he adds, "listen, if this is going to be a problem, we should stop this. now." 

he could always find another girl to suit his needs. one that wouldn't cling to his leg like a lonesome child.

"i don't get it," you mumble, eyes finally meeting his. tears dew your lashline, but you wouldn't dare cry in front of him. "it's obvious that you've known for a while that i have feelings for you…" the realization finally creeps in like a cold draft through a cracked window. "you're using me?"

"using you?' he muses, cocking an eyebrow in confusion. leon has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. "you women and your emotions." he chides. "how many times is it gonna take for you to get it through that pretty little head of yours? this never meant anything to me. it never will." 

you bite the corner of your lip, pressing down hard, but not enough to bleed. you stood there, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast, the cruel words washing over you like vehement waves, trembling hands fumbling with the hem of your shorts, as if seeking refuge from the storm of anger. no had ever made you feel this insignificant before.

leon's lips part slightly, suddenly becoming acutely aware of something you'd rather he didn't figure out. "...you thought i was going to eventually fall for you, didn't you? jesus, i didn't think you were that naïve." he laughs—the first smile he cracked tonight was at your misery. "i almost feel bad."

mr. i'm sorry. mr. i didn't mean that. mr. i'm just tired.

fighting back tears, you hiss, "just leave."

you could slap the smug look right off his face, the air of superiority that clung to him like heavy cologne being enough to piss you off. leon was well aware of the chokehold he held you in—he reaped the benefits of your feelings at every given chance. it felt good having a girl like you always at an arm's reach, spare for the times you'd get all "emotional" and "clingy" on him. 

leon thinks about leaving, the mere idea pissing him off beyond belief—he rode all this way, in the pouring rain no less, just to make you feel like a piece of shit. no kisses, no sex, not even a single touch. deep down, he hated the reflection of his own bitterness that he spewed towards you. he hated how easily his words hurt you, how easily they spilled out of his mouth. this wasn't who he was, or at least, who he once was. after all, you were just a sweet girl who was irrevocably in love with him. 

"fine," he ceases, concealing the anger he felt at his core—you didn't deserve anymore than what you'd already been cursed with tonight. 

pathetically, you watch as he tugs his leather jacket back on, sliding his arms through the sleeves quickly. you feel the urge to apologize bubbling up to the surface, but for what? you hadn't done anything wrong, simply stood your ground, defended what dignity you had left. he doesn't mean any of it, your mind feeds you lies, he's just hurt cut him some slack. 

leon's hand lingers on the doorknob for a second too long, hesitating his next move. your eyes narrow in confusion. cautiously, you take a few steps towards him, each one feeling like a march to the executioner's chopping block. 

"fuck it," leon huffs, hand abandoning the cool metal, and now seeking refuge on your hips, pulling you flush against him as his lips meet yours. this wasn't right, he wasn't thinking straight, clearly lost in a haze of frustration. but he couldn't help himself. you reciprocating the kiss didn't help his case either. 

a soft, content hum left your lips as his mesh onto yours so seamlessly. it's anything but sweet and delicate, rather laced with hunger and raw unadulterated lust. his rough hands smooth up your stomach, your thin tank top riding up in their wake. you can feel the desperation oozing off of his lips, from the way his tongue pushes past the crack of your own lips.

you're like putty in his hands, forgetting all the spiteful things he'd just said to you, only focusing on how good this felt. he inadvertently called you his bitch—any sane person would've happily shoved him out the door, but here you were, melting into his unprompted kiss. the things you do for love.

lips still smothering yours, he mumbles, "this a good enough apology for you, doll?" his breath fans against your skin, mingling with yours as he shoves you up against the nearest wall. 

"mhm," you're thinking with everything but your head, succumbing to the rush that coursed hotly through your veins. "i'm sorry," but leon shuts you up by plunging right back in. he knows you shouldn't have to apologize, but he doesn't care enough to tell you to give it a rest.

"such a sweet girl, always so understanding," he chuckles breathily. your lips were enough to calm his nerves. "i hate hurting you like this, but you just…" his tone grows solemn, but he pushes such thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing solely on making both of you feel good.

his words struck a chord in you. but you just… just what? you don't want to think too hard about it, that could be done in the morning, once your left all alone in a sea of white bedsheets. when the regret of surrendering to your self-indulgence had fully settled in.

sooner rather than later, you're sprawled out beneath leon, stripped down to nothing. a mix of both of your clothing are scattered across your bedroom floor, joining the rest of the pre-existing mess. your skin is slick with a thin layer of sweat, a testament to just how badly leon had you worked up. it's hard to muffle your breathy moans, to which he can only say:

"ah, come on. don't be shy." he teases, tilting his head while placing a sloppy kiss on your rosy lips. a sharp thrust is what finally draws out a loud moan from your lips, his cock buried deep inside your sopping cunt, "that's my girl."

calloused hands roam all over your soft skin, tracing your every curve, every dip, feeling you in your entirety. you hate how effortlessly he brought you to heaven, how you could feel every inch of him pumping in and out of you. seeing you like this, eyes fluttered shut and lips parted, reminded leon why he hadn't stopped seeing you yet. 

the room is bathed with the sounds of your choked moans and his grunts. his name falls off your lips like its your only prayer, coupled with a slew of desperate pleas. your hands grasp onto his back for support, nails digging crescents into the skin as they drag down, leaving scratches in their wake. 

his hips rolled against yours as his thrusts got messier and rougher, practically slamming in and out of you. your back arches against the memory foam of your mattress, an embarrassingly loud moan leaving your lips as you feel his tip kiss against your cervix. 

"fuck, leon, don't stop," your nails dig even deeper into his skin. 

"wasn't planning on it," leon groans, feeling your velvety walls clamp around his cock. "god, you're so perfect," another wet kiss planted upon your open lips. it's a blessing the bed hadn't given in and snapped yet. 

you're seeing stars at this point, the coil in your stomach tightening with every thrust, pulled taut like violin strings. it's not until leon hits right there that your eyes snap open, glimmering with pleasure, earning a desperate mewl. a smirk plays on his lips. it was ironic how he could make you feel so awful, so miserable, but simultaneously brought you this. 

"oh, you like that, don't you?" he grunts, hitting that same spot repeatedly, determined to make you cum all over his cock. "yeah, i bet you do. pretty thing like you doesn't deserve any less," sweat drips down his forehead, his hair sticking to it. 

"i'm so close," you whimper, the mattress creaking beneath you. 

"i know you are," leon takes pride in the scrunched up look of pure ecstacy on your face, white hot pleasure shooting through his own veins. 

it only takes a few more thrusts before you cry out his name, mumbling a cluster of curses and pleas as you rode out your high. heaven was always a place on earth with leon—spare for the times the two of you weren't in bed. 

it doesn't take long for leon to finish as well, shooting his load on your stomach, not particularly in the mood for an unwanted pregnancy from a girl he barely cared about. completely out of breath, leon sighs, rolling over to the empty spot next to you on your bed. his back falls against the mattress, a million thoughts racing through his mind, all a vehement maelstrom of regret.

i should've left he thought, eyes flitting over to you, who seemed like she was still on cloud nine. guilt pangs in his heart, no longer left in a lust-filled haze. he can only stare up at the ceiling, almost in a similar manner to the way you did only an hour earlier. 

no one felt post-nut clarity like leon did.

you, on the other hand, felt like a million bucks. your chest rose and fell slowly, reeling back in after your orgasm. but nonetheless, leon's cruel words hit you like a freight train, coming back to you all at once in your state of bliss. the reality of your situation creeps in like a thief in the night. 

all you are is—for lack of better words—his bitch.

as the first light of dawn kisses the horizon, the sun rises gently, painting the sky with hues of gold and rose, awakening the world in a tender embrace. left in nothing but a flimsy pair of lacy panties, you stir around in bed, eyes fluttering open as you take in your surroundings. despite the lack of sleep you got the night prior, the mere sunlight still roused you awake.

and of course, just as you anticipated, there's an empty spot right next to you. just one morning you wished to have strong arms caging you in their embrace. but no.

as long as you kept this charade up with leon, this was all you'd get.

frantically, you swipe your phone off of your nightstand—maybe he sent you a text? disappointment etches onto your face as the pad of your thumb presses the power button, only to be met with a handful of notifications, not a single one from leon.

jesus, you were hopeless.

[whumpitisthen]

Whumper who is part of the team 💞

I left a bit of a tag dump on a largely unrelated post about how much I adore Whumper who is part of the good guy team, and I have decided to make a post about it as the more I think about this concept the less normal I become so here it is

Whumper is part of the team, but everyone knows to be wary of them

Although they are dangerous, scary and even sadistic at times, everyone agrees that having their power and intelligence on our side is much better than to have them be on the enemy team instead

Because of what they bring to the team — and also because everyone is a little scared of them — Whumper's faults are a little easier tolerated than other teammates', and a young Whumpee who always gets in trouble and hasn't really had the time to get to know Whumper might find this blatant favouritism a little frustrating

Whumper also doesn't have to train all the time, or be present for strategy briefings, or to even really go out on missions with the team. They are always on their own, left to do their own thing, go on special, dangerous missions and the rest of the plan the team must follow tends to center around Whumper

A rookie Whumpee may be annoyed that Whumper gets to do all that, they may become curious of what Whumper really does, or even start idolising Whumper, because they are clearly so strong and smart and trusted, they must be so cool. They probably should not do any of that.

Nobody bothers Whumper when they're in a bad mood. Nobody enters Whumper's room under any circumstances, especially not alone. Nobody shall mention "the previous Whumpee" around Whumper. If Whumper is in a strange, unsettling mood, and seems a bit too friendly and interested in you specifically, you excuse yourself and make a swift escape from the situation. Call Leader if Whumper won't leave you alone. These, and many more rules are set in stone at HQ, and Whumpee is more than a little terrified of Whumper every time they learn of another weird unspoken rule that everyone knows to follow

Whumper loves rookies, and tends to play up their mysterious, dangerous persona in front of them for fun. A disgruntled Medic bumbles something about not letting Whumper get to them, but Whumpee has been sufficiently got to already, staring at Whumper with wide eyes

For whatever reason, Whumper and Whumpee are on a solo mission together. Whumpee is intimidated by Whumper, a little scared that they will follow up on a threat or insinuation they had made before about hurting them, but what actually happens is that Whumpee gets to witness first-hand the brutal efficiency and cruelty with which Whumper works, watching as they tear through the problem effortlessly, mowing through an operation that would have taken the rest of the team a whole week and careful planning to succeed at. Whumper tells them this was just a small favour, nothing major. They finally start understanding Whumper, and why they are such an important part of the team

Whumper leaves for a while, and Whumpee's first time hearing about them is through a desperate team begging them to come back when they face an unkillable, unspeakably powerful threat that they tried and failed to stop. Whumper shows up last minute, and fixes the issue in the snap of a finger with a smile on their face, mentioning how Leader could've just told them how much they missed them and they would've come back

The absolute, horrid carnage Whumper leaves after 'fixing' the team's issue leaves the whole team speechless, suddenly reminded in a massive, unbelievable show of strength and cruelty of just how powerful Whumper truly is. Whumpee has a lot of questions about Whumper for the team after that, namely: who the hell was that?; what the hell did they just do?; and oh my god, what the fuck?

After days of missing, Whumpee is found in Whumper's room tied to a chair, evidently kept there and tortured. Whumpee is so glad to have been found, yelling about how Whumper has always been so weird and unsettling, and how they bullied them and abused them all the time, and how they can't wait for them to be gone, but Medic has to tell them with an aching heart as they fix up their countless injuries that they always knew Whumper hurt them, and that they can't do much about it. Not even Leader can get them to behave without fucking up the system they have in place, and they simply can't afford to do that to the entire rest of the team. The best Whumpee can do is avoid them, or leave the team altogether — but Whumper might go catch them again if they try.

Whenever the team fails to interrogate someone, Whumper is sent in. They are always successful. Whumpee is sent down to ask if Whumper found out what they need to know, and is horrified by the state of the prisoner. Even worse, once they hear everything they need to know, Whumper ushers them out, ready to continue the torture. Whumpee innocently asks them what for if they already know everything they need to, and Whumper pauses to grin at them and ask if they want to join and see.

For a more found family type team: Whumper joins the dinner table for the first time. Everyone falls quiet. Or alternatively: Whumper stops having dinner with them. Whumpee grows concerned and brings a plateful up to Whumper's room. They do not appreciate it as much a Whumpee thought they would. This can go in so many different directions from soft fluff to just horrible awful times

Whumper reminds Leader of how voluntary their subordinacy is by roughing them or a teammate up a bit and showing them how helpless they would be if they decided to get on Whumper's bad side

Whumper is Leader.

Whumper is Medic

Whumper is indesposable

A hostage taken from the enemy confesses to how badly Whumper hurt their own teammates all the time, and shows some very nasty scars Whumper left on them too. The team is horrified

Whumper has something to hide, so they don't let their ex teammate spill anything, killing them before they can, or shutting them up any time they try

Whumper has nothing to hide, and listens with a grin as all their past cruelty is brought forth again. As if the team that they work for wouldn't already be more than aware of all that and more. Well if they weren't, now they can add all that to the list filled with their more recent cruelties

Whumper "accidentally" hurting Whumpee all the time. Whumpee is intimidated into not saying anything about what's really going on

Whumper slowly softening up to their new wholesome team. They can eventually grow fond enough to not be a colossal asshole to them all the time. Or they could go more in the "if anyone but me dares to hurt these idiots, there will be hell to pay" direction

Whumper is a cat. They claw at kind hands for no reason, they get the zoomies and cause chaos, they need to be fed on time or they become pissy, if they fall asleep on top of someone that someone will simply have to stay deathly still and wait for them to wake up because Whumper hates being woken up and once or twice a month they bring home half alive prey they caught to show off and play with. They also purr. If i have anything to say about it

They aren't close at all with the rest of the team yet. Whumper being here is a new thing. Everyone is on edge. It is unpleasant to share a room with this fucking maniac. Their eyes find teammates who they have history with, lingering on scars, or even fresh wounds hidden under clothes that they know fully well will never fade. Their smile is knowing and spiteful

"Does it hurt still? The cut I gave you? I remember how you screamed; it must ache still. How lucky that we are on the same team now, wouldn't you agree?"

No one knows Whumper at all. They are like a ghost. They show up, they do their job, they disappear. One day, Whumper stumbles into Medic's, and wordlessly climbs onto the table. Medic fixes them up with as few words as possible, and after a long, uncomfortable stare from Whumper, agrees to never say a single word about this to anyone

Whumper is a fighter. They live for the battlefield, having a little too much fun mowing down hordes of people. This is Whumpee's first time seeing them in action, and they can't help looking away right before Whumper crushes a defenseless, already incapacitated enemy's skull under their boot

Whumper knows the team way way way too well. They did stalk them for years before they joined. They know just how to get under their skin, and it's both infuriating and terrifying

Anyone who tries to break in at the dead of night answers to Whumper. The rest of the team may not even find out about the spy who tried to infiltrate them for a couple weeks, before Whumper decides to offhandedly mention that they have a hostage in their room and they are ready to talk

Here's the unhinged tags that inspired this if anyone wants to see

Masterlist | Ko-fi