#this is the most dumb and meaningless thing to waste your energy on

[tidal-chaos]

the online system community sucks so bad lmao

[starryevermore]

A Gift For a Gift

I’m sorry this is so long and if you see any grammatical errors, no you don’t <3 lol anyway I just wanted to write something for you since you write so much for us! Thanks so much Kayla, we love you! (I also cannot for the life of me figure out the read more thing, so I am sorry again lol) (Kayla here! I added a read more for you 🥰)

Colby fucking hated Valentine’s Day. For most of his teenage life, if he saw those stupid hearts and those goddamn teddy bears, he was instantly in a worse mood. Most years, it made sense why he hated the holiday. He’d been single a long time, and even when he had a girlfriend, he hadn’t had the money to give his girl a proper date. He always tried, but it never seemed good enough. His mind would always go back to one year in particular where he’d tried to set up a picnic for a girl in the living room of his house. He was 15 so he had no car or money, and it was Kansas, so there was a foot of snow on the ground anyway. He’d gone all out. He asked his mom to bring home some balloons and flowers and all that gross shit just so the aesthetic was perfect. He then tried to actually cook food. Himself. At fifteen years old. For the first time. When he tells this story and says Mama Brock came running with the fire extinguisher, he’s not kidding. His mom made the meal. 

At the cost of his whole day (and nearly his home), his girlfriend came over and laughed. Not in a cute way or in disbelief, but laughed in his face over his efforts. She picked apart every inch of the room he had decorated and told him it was ugly. Apparently he had used the wrong shade of red? He hadn’t realized that it mattered, but “barnyard red” was not right. She said the balloons were tacky and the flowers were meaningless because they weren’t roses. She refused to eat the meal because it was cold (since she’d shown up an hour late), and then broke up with him on the spot. 

So yeah. Colby fucking hated Valentine’s Day most of the time. This year was different, though. He had met the love of his life. He was convinced you were the one he was supposed to be with all this time. He’d waited and it was worth it. And you loved Valentine’s Day. The pinks and reds made you happier than anything else. He’d never seen someone get so giddy over seeing a pink bear with a heart on it’s foot until he’d met her. Every trip to Target was punctuated with a visit to the dreaded candy section. But he saw you smile at every silly pun on the backs of the card boxes. You laughed at the ridiculous couples games. You hugged at least one bear every time and forced it to hug him too. You were happy. This time of year and celebration made you happy. And damn it that was enough to put aside his petty hatred for this capitalist cash-grab of a holiday and come up with the most kickass Valentine’s Day date he ever could. 

He hadn’t realized how hard that would be. He was a hopeless romantic, but he was also hopelessly self-destructive. He would come up with an idea and every scenario started beautifully in his imagination, but every time each scenario ended with something awful. He thought you two could go to the beach, but then he imagined you falling into the water and getting salt in your eyes. Maybe you two could go to the movies, but then you could get stuck in front of two teenagers who weren’t aware that just because a room is dark, the sounds they were making weren’t audible. 

This cycle went on for a long time. It took so long, he actually forgot what day it was. He’d begun planning the second February hit. He checked the calendar and realized he only had a week until The Day. Fuck. Had it really been a week? He felt like his head was swimming. His final brain cell was short circuiting and his head literally had no thoughts left in it, only fuzz. His head hadn’t felt this empty while still spinning since he’d learned about imaginary numbers in Algebra II. And he’d never actually learned imaginary numbers. Sam took that test for him. Suddenly, he had one thought. 

“I gotta ask Sam.”

Sam Golbach, per usual, had about a million suggestions. Colby reasoned that since he’d had more experience having an actual girlfriend on The Day, Sam should have more ideas than himself. The only issue is that the brain cell Colby had frazzled trying to come up with a date was usually shared between him and Sam, so Sam had all of the same ideas Colby did. He suggested the beach and the movie and the dinner and blah blah blah, so Colby was literally at square one. Sam was supposed to fix all of these issues. He had the brain and the longer relationship, so what the fuck? Why had he picked this time to not have any original idea?

“Colby.” Sam shook Colby’s arm.

“Jesus dude, you scared me. What?”

“You’ve been staring at the carpet for like 30 seconds. I know what it looks like when you’re mentally drifting. That’s the only kind you can do, if our video had anything to prove.” Sam smirked, knowing full well that Colby had taken second place in that challenge. 

“Shut up, dude. You had more time driving manual. I just learned there.” Colby knew his defense was weak, but it was a defense nonetheless.

“And you did well.”

“Don’t patronize me. I killed that car like twelve times. It feels like I’m going to end up doing the same with this relationship.” Colby sighed and rubbed his face. He held his hands there, flush against his cheeks. He could feel himself heating up and the cool metal of his rings, one of which you gave him, always helped keep him grounded. Sam grabbed his shoulder and shook him again.

“Would you shut the fuck up?” 

Colby removed his hands from his face, side-eyeing Sam, surprised “What the hell, Sam?” 

“Someone needed to say it. You’re talking yourself down again. Yeah, you killed the car. But you learned. You’ll do the same thing here. If you mess up, who cares? You tried! You need to realize that perfection isn’t attainable, so stop trying to attain it. You don’t have anything to be afraid of. Anything you do will make her happy. Because it’s you. She loves you. Any situation or plan can go wrong. We of all people should fucking know that. But don’t let fear stop you. You never have before. So what is your problem?” Sam asked, softening the harshness of some of his words by rubbing comforting circles into Colby’s shoulder. 

Sam knew Colby. He knew Colby was afraid. He’d been hurt so many times, and sadly many of those times, the hurt was self-inflicted. Colby held himself to an insane standard that he’d never expect anyone else to live up to, but this was Colby and Colby deserved harsh critique apparently. He refused to let his friend scare himself into doing nothing and then letting that nothing ruin what he had going. (Y/N) and Colby were made for each other. Anything Colby did made your heart swell and just knowing he put in effort would be more than enough. But Colby didn’t know that, or rather, refused to acknowledge that. Sam was getting tired of it. 

“You know her. Just do something she’ll like. Not whatever anyone tells you you should do. She loves you” Sam said, squeezing Colby’s shoulder one more time before dropping his hand to the arm of the chair. Colby smiled and looked at him. 

“Thanks Sam. You’re right, once again. I don’t know how you always know what to say. I love you, dude.”

“Hold up, I’m not your valentine. I said she loved you, not me. Save all that mushy shit for her. You’re wasting your soft energy.” Sam laughed, standing to leave.

“Oh shit, you’re right. Us emo boys can only express positive emotions twice a week and I’ve wasted once on you. How could I be so dumb?” Colby shot sardonically back, returning to his computer to look up restaurants. 

Sam laughed again and walked to the door. He went through and closed it behind him, but Colby knew he was still on the other side, hand on the handle. Colby turned just as Sam quickly stuck his back into the room, quickly whispering “I love you too” before slamming the door again and audibly running down the hall to his room. Colby laughed out loud that time. His friend was an idiot, but they’d be so lost without each other. 

Time to plan the date Colby knew you would like, not the date that was in the movies. He still hated Valentine’s Day. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Well everything was going to shit, just as Colby had feared. He had been so proud of himself. He thought of an amazing night. First, you two were going to go to your favorite restaurant and have the meal you’d been saying you craved for two weeks. He’d even called the place ahead of time, asking if they could play your song at a certain time, since they had a live band. He may have had to use some of that influencer clout to get that request, but it was okay. Did he feel like an absolute rat that just ran through the New York City sewer system for doing it? Absolutely. Would he ever do it again? If you asked him to, probably. But not for a long time. 

However, what had failed to happen was a valid reservation. It was Valentine’s Day in Los Angeles, after all. There would be no place in the whole city that wasn’t booked to full capacity. Colby knew that. That’s why he made the reservation directly after his talk with Sam. A week ago. The restaurant accidentally double booked your table. And the other couple had come before you two. Directly before you. As in they were the ones in front of you in line. 

“Well, is there anything we can do?” Colby asked

“Not really, the whole place is booked all night. I’m so sorry. You’ll get a full refund?” The hostess looked down and cringed, seemingly preparing for the Karen reaction. You and Colby just looked at each other and looked back at her apologetically. It must be hell to work here on The Day and deal with all of these rich assholes with an elitist complex. Which is exactly what you said to her. She just laughed lightly and brushed it off, but you and Colby saw the look of acknowledgement in her eyes. You both said your thank yous and goodbye while walking towards the main sidewalk where you’d parked. That had gone right, at least. You both were ecstatic that you’d actually found reasonable, legal parking close to the restaurant in downtown LA. That was a feat.  

Or at least, Colby thought the spot was legal. The ticket on his windshield begged to differ.

“What the hell? We were gone for like ten minutes!” Colby exclaimed, annoyed but impressed at the dedication of the PEO in the area. 

You laughed heartily. Colby’s little cloud of poor luck seemingly didn’t take a holiday. Just one of the nuances you loved about him. You’d always have a story. You could see the doubt creeping into his face and you were about to reprimand it, but you faintly heard your favorite song playing in the distance. The band inside had taste! You gasped and smacked his arm, flapping your other hand excitedly.

“Listen!” You said, pulling him back from the car and taking his hands.

Colby looked down and checked his watch.

“7:45. That’s right.” He flicked his eyes up to your face, coughing awkwardly as he rubbed his neck.

“You planned that?” You smiled, taking his hand back again and pulling him a little closer.

“Yeah… I tried anyway. I planned to be able to hear it a little better, but this is a lesson in using Instagram followers for special treatment I guess.” 

You laughed again and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close to you. 

“Well, don’t ever do that again obviously, but let’s dance like we did that one time the bouncer wasn’t convinced we were old enough to get into the club.” He giggled at that, remembering the look of bewilderment you two shared when Sam and Kat walked in with no issue. Of course you’d both forgotten your IDs that night. You decided to dance right outside anyway. 

“Okay, but aren’t I supposed to be the one taking the lead?” 

“Fuck gender roles.” You smiled, pulling him even closer and tucking your head beneath his chin, swaying him to the song playing from inside. He laughed again and let you move him around. He wasn’t good at dancing on his own anyway, so maybe you leading was the better decision. He was just letting things happen, slowly allowing himself to just let go and enjoy dancing with you. He felt silly and like he’d failed already, but he was keeping it together. There was still more planned. Where he couldn’t keep his poker face was when you -attempted- to spin him but actually just smacked his face with his own arm. You both giggled lightly and you decided to seal the deal with a sorry attempt at a dip. You forgot that he was taller than you, so gravity decided to join the forces against you two that night. Thankfully you were both near the car still, because Colby was able to keep both of you from the pavement by hitting his back against the door and grabbing onto the handle. You both were laughing hysterically at this point, unable to really form coherent sentences. 

“Just get in the car,” You got out eventually, wiping the tears from your eyes. “And never tell anyone.”

“I don’t plan on it.” Colby said, opening the door for you.

“This is one of the chivalrous acts that I will accept, so don’t ever stop doing that.” You joked, kissing his cheek lightly as you got in.

“Note taken.” Colby laughed, closing the door behind you.

“So Romeo, now that the masquerade is bust, where are we headed?” You asked once he got in and started driving.

“I know that was supposed to be a reference, but I haven’t thought about that play since I was twelve,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Anyway, we’re going somewhere I think of when I think of you.”

You smiled softly at him with that. This boy was a big ol’ softie and he really pretends he’s not. You never bought it. He was incredibly sentimental and sweet, so you knew that wherever you all were going was going to mean a lot to him. Therefore, it would mean a lot to you too. 

You were driving for a long time. You were no longer anywhere close to downtown and you couldn’t help but ask a million questions. Where are we going? Are we there yet? Why are we going here? Where are we going?

“You’ve already asked that.” Colby smiled, endeared by your only-child behavior but slightly annoyed nonetheless. 

“You got me there, Brock. But where are we going?” Colby groaned, leaning forward into the wheel. He reached to his phone and handed it to you with the Aux cord. 

“Please, pick something and stop asking!” 

You smirked and went to his music. Usually, you would go straight to the songs you wanted, but you were being nosy. You decided to go to his playlists and see what he had saved. You were scrolling past the expected “editing” list or the “late night” playlists, but stopped when you saw it. The most recently added list was one simply titled, “Her” with a small heart next to it, the black one of course. You cocked your eyebrow and clicked it. You started looking through the songs and saw all of the songs you’ve recommended to him over your relationship, along with some outliers. You glanced over at him, seeing if he was paying attention. 

He wasn’t. His brain was going at a million miles an hour. He felt like a comeplete fuck up. How was he the one table that was double booked? How had they managed to hit intense traffic at eight and made this drive take half an hour? How were you not bored out of your mind? There’s no way you were having any fun. He continued to stew in these intense thoughts when he’s snapped back to reality by the opening chords of Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.

Shit. She found it. He thought. He risked a glance at you, blushing bright red. Please don’t…

You were smiling widely at him. “You have a playlist for me?” 

“Oh god.”

The rest of the drive flew by, you two screaming lyrics at the top of your lungs once Colby’s embarrassment faded. It reminded you of the first time you had hung out, just you two. You’d discovered a mutual love for early 2000’s emo music, so you two screamed your voices away to the sweet dynamics of My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy until two that morning. You smiled quietly, remembering the fun of that day. You knew this was one special dumbass that day, especially after figuring out he had misheard “down in an earlier round” from Sugar, We’re Going Down as “down on a merry-go-round” for literal years. You had scream-laughed at that and corrected him, laughing even harder as the realization spread across his face. 

“Holy shit.” He’d whispered. “It’s been years…” 

“Hey, we’re here.” Colby startled you out of your daydream. You smiled at him as he climbed out of the car and sprinted to open your door. You laughed, remembering your comments at the restaurant. He opened the door and let you out, beginning the walk towards the location. You recognized this location. It was the neighborhood of the chandelier tree from one of his earliest vlogs. You had seen it and begged for him to take you there. It seemed so cute. You smiled widely at him, placing your hand in his. You swung his hand lightly as you walked, knowing it drove him crazy.

“Would you stop that?” he playfully asked, feigning annoyance. You responded by swinging his arm as far back as you could, saying,

“Careful Brock. Watch the tone or I’ll try and dip you again.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that?” He asked cheekily, taking the piss. 

You laughed again and smacked his arm as you turned the corner to the tree. Or the location of the tree, as there were no chandeliers. 

“What?” Colby asked, mostly to himself. You both looked at each other, confused. You got closer, deciding to let go of each other’s hands as Colby went ahead, trying to see if it was just around another corner or if he was on the wrong block. You pulled out your phone and asked Google.

“Oh, baby. They took this down last month!” You frowned, calling out to him.

“Seriously?” Colby asked, clearly disappointed. Another fuck up. He hadn’t even thought to look up if it was still here or not “Shit.”

You could see the wheels in his head turning, trying to figure out what to say. You were about to reassure him when he lights up, turning to you and exclaiming,

“The park! That pretty lookout Sam and I used to go to all the time! It’s like ten minutes from here, we could go there. I’m sure it’s awesome right now.”

You smiled and were nodding in agreement when a loud bang made the two of you jump ten feet. You looked quizzically at each other when your mutual question was answered by a sudden downpour of rain and flash of lightning. A thunderstorm, of fucking course. Colby removed his jacket, holding it above your head as you both made a break for the car. 

After your dead sprint, you both sat in your seat, heaving breaths and looking out in pure wonder. You looked over to Colby, ready to laugh at the absurdity of the whole night when you saw him slumped forward on the wheel, refusing to look at you, shoulders shaking slightly. 

“Colby, baby, are you okay?” you asked lightly, grabbing his arm. He turned even farther away, opting to lean his head against his window to cool his heating face. He refused to let you see the single tear that was leaving his eye. 

“I’m sorry.” was all he muttered.

You were shocked. “Baby, you don’t control the weather. If you did, I’d be pissed you haven’t fixed global warming yet.” You attempted to joke. He didn’t laugh.

“I failed again. I just wanted to make something special for you. I know you love Valentine’s Day and it means a lot to you. I hate this fucking holiday but I wanted to make you happy. But I fucked it up. Just like I do everything. I mean, it’s raining! In L.A.! What the fuck! There’s nowhere open that’s not booked and it’s already nine and I haven’t even gotten you food and you probably have never had a worse valentine’s-” he tried to rant, but you covered his mouth with your hand. His eyes darted to you, surprised. 

You were beyond hurt. You couldn’t believe he didn’t see how much fun you were having or how much pressure he’d put on himself to make everything perfect. You should’ve guessed as much. You reached your other hand around the back of his neck, moving the one from his mouth to his cheek, kissing him. 

“Would you shut the fuck up?” you said, pulling back. He barked a short laugh out, surprised.

“You know, you’re not the first one to tell me that about this whole thing.”

“You talked to Sam about this date?”

“How’d you know?” He looked at you again, fully flabbergasted. You laughed.

“Do you talk to anyone else about stuff important to you?” He shrugged, clearly thinking it through. 

“Other than you, no, not really.”

“Anyway, he’s right. I don’t care that stuff didn’t work out. You put more thought into this night than anyone else has ever put into any date I’ve ever been on. You poured your heart into it. You thought every little thing through. You tried. And even when things didn’t work out, we had fun. We reminisced on our relationship so far. We danced, screamed songs, and ran through the rain. You tried to give me a super involved date. You gave me a damn movie instead.” 

Colby scoffed at the irony in that. He did exactly what he was trying not to do. Fairly typical. You swiped your thumb across his cheek, getting his attention again.

“You’re drifting, stay with me.” Colby laughed and rolled his eyes. You stilled your thumb, confused.

“You and Sam are literally on the same wavelength.” 

“Or we are the ones who know you best. I think I’ve got him beat on the loving you, though,” you paused. “Maybe.” 

You both chuckled again.

“But seriously, Colbs, if you’re here, I’m happy. You make anything fun. That’s why I’m in love with you. I know you think about everything and try your fucking hardest. You are the sweetest man I know. That’s why I picked you. Remember, I had a line of suitors waiting,” you winked, knowing Colby knew that all too well.

“God, don’t remind me.” He groaned. He leaned his cheek into your hand, allowing you to hold him. That’s how you knew he loved you. He let his guard down and let you love him. He doesn’t do that for many, and you knew that. You loved that he let you in. He lightly kissed the hand that was still caressing his cheek, smiling when you pulled him close again. You two stayed like that for a while, kissing softly while the rain pattered against your windows. It really was like a movie. The gray, swirling clouds and soft wisps of the wind lulled you both into a serene sense of young love. You belong here. This was you two. Shit was going to go wrong. And you were going to love each other through it. That’s what made you two special. You don’t want perfection. You want each other. 

“So,” Colby said softly as he pulled back. “How’s about we pick up some In-And-Out and binge watch Attack on Titan in the big theatre?” You smiled again, squeezing the back of his neck one more time.

“Fuck yeah.”

So, that’s what you all did. And it was the best night ever, just you two being goofy and in love. And okay, Colby may be coming around to Valentine’s Day. Or maybe it’s just you. He thinks it’s just you. Either way, he can’t wait to spend the rest of them just like this.

[bloodraven55]

That post I just reblogged resonated with me so hard. I’ve seen it so many times just in the R/WBY fandom where the big blogs are treated like gods who know everything about everything and possess authority to have the final say on every topic.

Overall I think fandom can be a great thing, but looking back I wasn’t ready to have this much of a public voice. I wasn’t ready to have thousands of people listening to everything I had to say. I know that in the past there have been times I let myself get sucked into meaningless petty discourses, or wasted time on dumb arguments about unimportant things because it made me feel good to be told I was right.

When people start treating you like an untouchable deity whose word is law then no matter how good your intentions it’s going to go to your head eventually. It’s going to give you a sense of power and superiority if you’re not careful. And that’s a rabbit hole that you don’t want to go down cause it isn’t pretty.

I already struggled with imposter syndrome before I became super active on social media, and being held up as this insanely amazing badass only made it worse. More often than not it’s left me feeling like I’m somehow deceiving everyone and one day I’m bound to lose the respect of every single person who looks up to me— convinced that I’m secretly a terrible person and it’s only a matter of time before everyone realises it.

Obviously those thoughts aren’t logical, though my brain sure wants to make me believe they’re cold hard facts, but it really does show how detrimental it can be to allow yourself to get to the point of relying on the opinion of relative strangers on the internet to maintain your self-worth.

And this isn’t to blame anyone or point any fingers— I honestly do appreciate all of the support y’all have given me so much. I more just want it to be a reminder that behind your favourite fandom accounts are real people, so please don’t allow them to dictate your morals or thoughts.

I barely even feel qualified to be an adult half the time— I’m just a college student trying my best to graduate even though most days simply remembering to drink enough water and wash my clothes consumes all of my mental energy. If I’m put on a pedestal then one day I’m bound to take a swan dive off that thing and that won’t be good for anyone.

With all that said, I’ve come across so many awesome people during my time here, and I’ve met some of my closest friends as well as my wonderful girlfriend here too, so I definitely don’t regret being part of it. Just don’t forget that even the big accounts are run by humans.

[thattimdrakeguy]

Young Justice #10 review - How not to change a character’s identity.

This is finally the issue were Tim Drake becomes “The Drake” (or maybe just “Drake”), and honestly, it’s just lazy as could be. People were already fearing the issue, and it’s actually kind of worse than expected.

They made every bad choice they could’ve.

It is genuinely horribly done.

Most times when a character changes their identity it means something to that character. It’s a defining moment in their character evolution, and the name actually means something to that character.

Nightwing came from Dick Grayson trying to find himself as he grew up. Gaining the name from a trusted friend who told him a story from his home-world, that helped give Dick Grayson inspiration.

The Red Hood came from Jason Todd literally getting killed by Joker, a person that formerly went by the Red Hood. The name was practically a taunt, but an emotionally charged one that was connected to Jason’s story.

With this name  and costume change, it means NOTHING.

They don’t even explain where the suit comes from. He just shows up in it, and unless I missed it, no one even acts like anythings different, or brings up the costume at all.

Previously I just assumed the costume would spawn from a reasoning that had something to do with this Earth. To actually give a reason for it.

Like how a gang was insulting Tim’s colors.

But that gang that randomly attacked Tim in issue 8 went no where. Making the inclusion of them almost pointless besides world building, but in their defense, world building is important.

I have no idea why Tim thought it was important to change his costume, considering Earth 3 Drake pretty much wears a normal Robin costume.

Making the change in costume even more pointless and meaningless.

Costumes are meant to say something about the character in some shape or form. This costume has no introduction, no one brings it up, and it’s quality alone is shoddy. The colors stand for boring, and dull, in a few panels the red in it comes off almost as clashing, and the lack of any character-based details makes it terrible.

In the most objective way to consider the costume, even ignoring how Tim only wanted to be Robin, this costume was horribly made on the standards set by what costumes are supposed to do.

Costumes are suppose to tell you something about the character.

Tim’s last costume showed he was a boyish, tech based, ninja. Due to character details like short sleeves, built in tech, and ninja toes. Those details showed exactly what his character is, but this new one doesn’t come off like that. The new costume says absolutely nothing.

The logic of Tim choosing the new name is also completely horrible. He has no reason to change his name. Bart just started saying he should change his name to “Drake”. Why? I don’t think he actually says.

Why would Tim want to change his name to match someone who wants to kill him and is evil? Logically, he shouldn’t.

Why would Tim want to change his name just because Bart told him to? Logically, he shouldn’t.

Why would Tim want to change his name while on an alternate Earth? Logically, he shouldn’t.

Why would Tim want to change his name at all considering his character? Logically, he shouldn’t.

Tim Drake’s character always said that if he stopped being Robin, he would stop being a hero. That only changed when he got kicked from the role and felt he still had to save Bruce.

So now that he’s Robin again, why would he leave that role? He finally got back to being Robin like how he wanted, which actually felt good, but they never even explained why he was Robin again. In fact they implied he was still Red Robin, despite all the marketing and character’s saying he was Robin. Causing a massive inconsistency with just that.

It’s just plain out of character for him to change his name, and one of the biggest flaws you can ever make when writing a story of any kind is having one of your characters, especially one of the main characters, act out of character.

The name as well, while using the characters’ own logic, is out of character.

Tim Drake was always told to keep his secret identity hidden from EVERYONE. Even Barbara Gordon didn’t know Tim’s name until Batman told her (although that was mostly because Tim thought it was cool Babs knew Superman’s real name but not his).

In 90s Robin there was an issue were Stephanie Brown as the Spoiler comes close to finding out Tim’s identity. If Tim Drake went by the superhero name “Drake” and she cared enough to search harder, it would only make it that much easier to find out what his real name is.

You could say that the name is so dumb that’s why it’s so great, because anyone trying to figure out their identities wouldn’t expect them to be that dumb, but when the Bat-Family is so protective of their identities, why would they ever take the risk? That’s out of character.

This isn’t the only way this issue was lazy either. This issue constantly uses singular panel pages, as if they’re just trying to fill up space.

There are 4 entire pages dedicated to just one panel. In a 22 page comic, that means there’s only 18 or so pages that don’t go to mostly waste.

When you have a page like that, it’s suppose to be exciting. The first issue of Wonder Comics Young Justice used them excellently, but also, they had 44 pages I believe. So they worked well with the pages they had to tell the story.

In this issue they just overused them, like they were just getting lazy. It feels like a comic that was written during a hangover. Something Bendis might’ve done last minute when he realized he forgot to write the script.

Regardless if that’s not the case, that’s what it feels like.

The dialogue by itself isn’t much either. Mostly feeling rushed as could be, or only generic funny moments.

This is an issue, written of the quality of a comic that knows it’s going to be cancelled. I don’t think that’s the literal case for Young Justice, but that’s the vibe it gives off. It’s written so lazily, like it knows there’s no point, but it’ll use cheap publicity stunts like changing a character’s identity to get any sort of attention it can get.

However one thing the issue does really well, is establish why Jinny sticks out and is important.

It actually makes me want to read a Jinny Hex solo adventure, because Bendis seems much more interested in her than the rest of the team.

Like I love this snarky, queer, magically teched out, cowgirl.

I’ve never been more disappointed by a comic in general in my entire life though.

The first issue of this series capped off like the original series never ended it. It felt right at home, from the art style, the costumes, the writing, the energy, the fast pace. They really captured the magic of Young Justice. That first issue felt so genuine.

In this: the art style was changed due to there being a new and unfitting artist, they’re already changing the costumes to stuff much blander, the writing has become forced and rushed, the energy is zapped, and the pacing is so bizarre because of the constant usage of single pages.

If you want spoilers on the only events in the current day Earth 3 story, here you go: They fight Earth 3 Young Justice (Young $#@%ers? I guess.), Jinny finally uses her magical items, they win, they go back home.

In the flashback story of Jinny: She gets cheated on, we find out she’s a natural hero, we get a sense of her family’s history, and we finally learn more about the mystery of the chest.

There’s so much more character building involved, and she gets to feel like a real fully fleshed out person because of that.

--

If you wanna see the best bit of character usage in the main story, and I’m not being sarcastic when I say I like this part. Is this:

As simple as it is, it uses Tim’s character and the world around him to make a simple moment actually be pretty funny, because it uses the basics of character writing.

Compared to the rest of the Earth 3 story’s over-usage of cheap generic dialogue that anyone could say, and while you could argue anyone could say “Noooo... thank you.” like Tim did in the above panel, it works best with Tim because he’s already been shown as the most awkward, yet moralistic member of the team.

It actually uses his character.

--

I think the above panel is a good showing at the weird choice Bendis has made.

Earth 3 Steph is a more fleshed out character with a purpose than pretty much the entire Young Justice team in this story. When this is only the second story in this run of Young Justice.

Shouldn’t it be more important to keep fleshing out and focusing on the team itself? 

It doesn’t even feel like this is the first time these characters been together in a long time. They act as if they never been separated. Conner being stranded on Gemworld were he helped raise a kid doesn’t feel like it ever happened anymore. It affected nothing. It feels ignored. It makes the comic feel disjointed just from the last story arc.

Young Justice’s dialogue is almost entirely generic. Practically anyone could say what they have, and it would work just as well. There’s no character put into them, besides maybe Bart being immature and mouthy, but the whole team besides possibly Tim when he has his brain cell on is pretty immature and mouthy, and even then, Tim isn’t Captain of maturity, he mostly just forces himself to be because he felt obligated to be leader, he’s still a doofus kid.

--

An issue should never be written as badly as the Earth 3 story in this.

While the Jinny Hex story is actually really well-written as far as character building is concerned, the Earth 3 story is bottom of the barrel as far as quality goes, and that’s the story that actually has the whole team involved.

Bad dialogue, horrible out of character identity change, bad usage of page space, bizarre pacing, lack of story that actually feels worth paying attention too

This issue would personally be given a 3/10, and that 3 only comes from Jinny’s story being quite well written as a character piece.

[liliesoftherain]

32. “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.” and 30."It was you the whole time" for Bakugou please

Katsuki Bakugou:

“Honestly this party is over (y/n), we should get going.” 

“No I don’t wanna go.” You took another sip of your drink, loving the burning feeling it gave when it travels down.

Mina sighed, giving your shoulder a squeeze but not wanting to take no for an answer.

“You can’t drink your feelings away.”

“I’m afraid of being sober.” You whispered out. 

Even though you were heavily intoxicated, enough to speak your feelings anyways, you still had your mind set on one goal. Not being alone, not being sober enough to remember everything.

Mina didn’t know what to say, so she opted for lifting you up and helping you stumble away from the counter. You were at a party at some random house and Mina wouldn’t let you go alone. She even called Kaminari a while ago to help get you out of this place, you had finally calmed down from earlier and instead of dancing and meaningless make-outs, sitting at the counter where the drinks were. 

“Your ride is here ladies?” Kaminari came up, helping Mina catch you when you stumbled forward. 

“You guys alright?” He directed his question to Mina, but it annoyed you, and you ended up shoving them both off. 

“I’m fine.” You tried to even out your voice but it was wobbly. 

“You’re not hun, let me help you home at least-”

“I’m fine Mina. Thanks. I’ll go home on my own.” 

You tried walking away but Kaminari caught your upper arms gently and you didn’t have the energy to push him off again. You let your friends walk you out and you shivered when the cold air touched your burning skin. You hated being cold, he was always so warm. 

Mina and Denki shared a look when they got you in the back seat. You laid down and willed yourself not to grab your phone and call the one person you wanted to be with the most. Kaminari leaned against the car with a sigh, looking at you through the window.

“This is a mess.” 

“I know. She’s been acting out for weeks now, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen her sober.” Mina crossed her arms and rubbed them, for the warmth it provided in the chilly air and for the comfort she sought. 

“That ass won’t admit it but he’s dying inside too.” Denki shoved his hands in his pockets. 

Talking amongst themselves since they believed you fell asleep, neither one noticed you silently slip out of the car. The music blaring from the house Denki was parked in front of helped you sneak off. You hated running away but you couldn’t stand to be near their pitting gazes and words right now. 

You were walking, more like stumbling, for a good half hour before you found yourself at the spot you’ve been avoiding since the breakup. The walk had caused you to sober up slightly and you felt the emotions flowing back. It may look like nothing more than a park to many, but to you it meant so much. Standing under your tree, you run your hands over the carving he made for you. It was corny, and he didn’t want to do it at first. 

You remembered the scowl he had when you asked, and then the blush that rose after your kissed him as a thank you for doing it anyways. It was one of those cheesy hearts with a large ‘K + (f/l)’.This tree had meant a lot to you both once upon a time. First date, first kiss.. Now they were just fading memories you were supposed to forget. How were you supposed to move on.

The sound of footsteps running made you turn, sobering you up the rest of the way. You put your hands up defensively, before you froze. Ash blonde hair and ruby red eyes took your breath away as they stopped in front of you, breathing heavily in return.

“K.. Katsuki?”

Bakugou was sulking on his couch before Kirishima got the call. He really wasn’t the same without you, but his damn pride had made sure he never tried getting you back. He stuck to senseless hookups and hiding away as his coping mechanisms. Tonight however, he didn’t have the energy to move, and pretended not to care when he overheard Kaminari going to pick you and Mina up from some random party. Either you both were really bad at dealing with things or you moved on already. 

The thought alone you moved on made his heart squeeze painfully and he had to close his eyes. Awhile after Kaminari left Kirishima sat next to him, and Bakugou didn’t care to acknowledge him. 

This made Kirishima sigh, he was really hurting for his two best friends and hated seeing you both like this. It was even worse when he lived with one of them. He knew Bakugou was too scared of his feelings to try to do anything, even if he acted tough. Kirishima knew deep down Bakugou was crying just as bad as you were. 

But he knew it was best not to say anything, the young man would only get defensive and rage instead of being honest with himself. Kirishima wished there was something, anything, he could do.

That’s when his phone went off, and he was glad for a little distraction. He looked and saw Denki’s name flash across the screen.

“Kaminari? What’s up?”  Kirishima answered, and Denki’s name caught Bakugou’s attention. 

“Is (y/n) there with you?” The phone was so close Bakugou could hear everything he was saying, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“What? Why would she be here, weren’t you picking her up from-”

“I did! Fuck, of she’s not there then-dammit-” His voice sounded muffled like if he pulled the receiver away. 

“Kaminari what’s going on?”

“Fuck dude I don’t know where she is.”

“What do you mean you don’t know where she is?”

“Me and Mina got her in the car and-and when we looked back after a minute, she was gone! The door was open and- fuck we thought she was passed out cause she was wasted!”

“You left her in the car by herself? What the hell were you two thinkin-Bakugou where are you going?”

Bakugou heard enough. Those two fucking idiots left you by yourself and you were gone. Were you taken? Or did your dumb ass just wander off? Why would you wander off on your own when you were fucking drunk as hell, it made no sense. 

His mind was going a mile a minute as he panicked. He threw his shoes on and sprinted outside of his shared apartment. He had no time to think about the cold as he looked everywhere he could for you, his mind jumped to the worst conclusions. 

He started to think of you and your years together and he thought of your special place. It was his last resort, and if you weren’t there-

Bakugou didn’t let the fear get the best of him as he ran towards the park. Finally reaching the area, he saw someone-saw you-under your tree. He relaxed as you spun around, eyes wide. Bakugou stopped right in front of you and was taking large breaths as his name spilled from your lips. Hearing your voice was so bittersweet, his heart thumped painfully in his chest.

“What are you doing here.” Was all he could manage out.

You wanted to cry, all you’ve been wanting for weeks was the chance to talk to him again and here he was! But you can’t bring yourself to say anything, you willed your mouth to move, begged your thoughts to be heard, but it was pointless. You looked away, and felt the tears come to your eyes.

“(y/n)..” He took a deep breath, eyes hardening.

“That was stupid. Really stupid, what the hell were you thinking? You can’t just fucking run away from-”

“You mean like how you ran away from us.” You finally muttered out, not looking for a lecture.

His jaw locked as he felt anger welling up, the fight that broke you two up in the first place coming to the forefront of his mind, the pain still fresh.

“Don’t you dare bring that up, you ran too!”

“Because you were pushing me away!” You cried out, feeling the tears falling down your face. “I’m supposed to be one of the people you trust the most to be here for you to catch you when you fall. You want to do everything by yourself and you don’t want to let me in! I want to help you grow! I want to be with every step of the way! Being without you is killing me Katsuki.” Your voice broke, and Bakugou swore his heart did too.

“Me too..” He looked away.

You stared up at him through wet lashes.

“Then what do we do.. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

“I love you.” 

“What?”

“You heard me, I’m in love with you.”

“Then why’d you leave me?” You gripped your chest, hoping some of the pain would ease.

“I..I want, I-fuck.. (y/n) I don’t need anyone else in my life, okay?” Bakugou ran his fingers through his hair, shaken. “ In the heat of the moment I might’ve said some stupid things, I know I did. I need you and even though I said.. I know I said I wanted no one to push me, no one to be there for me, but I do. I did have someone.. It was you the whole time. You’re the reason I try so hard.”

You bit your lip, walking closer so you were almost touching chests.

“I’m tired of waking up and being lonely, checking my phone to see you haven’t tried calling. Katsuki do you really want this? Want me?” 

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation, voice breathy. “I.. I’m scared. I want to tell you all these meaningful things, these beautiful words that’ll make you swoon, I want to hold you and take care of you. I just want to make you happy. I don’t know If I can do that.”

More tears fell and you wrapped your arms around him, he pulled you closer, his face buried in your hair. 

“You make me happy. You Katsuki. Please don’t go.. I love you.” 

“Never again.” 

You both sat under the tree, snuggled into each other’s arms. Watching the stars and basking in shared warmth. You looked up at him and Bakugou looked at you, a smile on his face. 

“I’m glad you found me.”

“I’m glad you waited for me.”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

I feel like this was rushed and I don’t really liked how it turned out but here it is! Enjoy!

[omi-ohmyimagination]

Just a deal

Themes: Roommates AU, Friends with benefits, Mature, Smut, Angst (?), Fluff, Romance, Optional Bias x Female Reader

Word count: ~5,6k

Description: It was supposed to be a harmless agreement. Simple deal between two needy people who happened to live together. But what if one of them had hidden motifs? What if they didn't reveal the whole truth behind their plan? What if... it wasn’t just a deal?

OMI’s note: Eh... sorry for disappearing guys. I was busy with other things and well, I didn't have energy to write anything. I wish I could say that I will be here more often from now on but January... will be tough. I have to finally finish my BA thesis, otherwise I'll get in huge troubles. I'm really sorry guys...

You had known B/N since the first year of university. You couldn't say that you were friends, acquaintances – yes, but not friends. You talked a bunch of times, went to few parties together and kissed during one of them. But the last one was something you both agreed to forget as soon as you had sobered up.

B/N was friendly, respectful and almost always willing to help. He was the most popular person at your uni; people surrounded him like a moths surrounding fire. He was really a life of the party. He was also quite famous for his face and body – perfectly sculpted features, plumb lips, charming eyes and fit build. Girls always trailed him, no matter where he went. And he didn't really refuse them.

You were probably one of a few people - besides those girls - that knew that under all those positive features, he was a huge ladies' man. And it wasn't because you were interested in him or something, heaven forbid.

You were his roommate.

You didn't really want it, it just happened. One day your previous roomie told you she wanted to finally live with her boyfriend and she moved out week later. That was when B/N appeared at your doorsteps with all his stuff but without knowledge that you were supposed to be his roommate.

Everything went surprisingly well for three years – you didn't really talk a lot with each other, only if it was needed, tried not to interfere with other's life and didn't cause any problems or unnecessary fights. Admittedly, sometimes, if one had drank too much, you spent time together, pouring your heart out to another one but it was forgotten as soon as the sun hit your faces. In people eyes you were perfect roommates.

But it all ended one summer night.

You were putting on your clothes in bathroom, when you noticed B/N by the door frame, looking at you with dark eyes.

“The fuck you're doing,” you asked, zipping up your leather dress.

“I have... an offer.”

“Mhm,” you murmured without looking at him.

“I'm sure you remember when I told you that I can't find anyone to... well, begging your pardon, fuck...”

You glanced at him curious. Over the last few years you never talked about things that were said during states of intoxication. Not even once. That was definitely something new.

{ You came back from work tired as never before. You were running around the office whole day, collecting papers and signatures. All you dreamed about was throwing yourself into your bed and forgetting about pain in your feet. But as soon as you crossed the doorstep smell of alcohol hit your nose.

You entered the livingroom and saw B/N sitting on the floor in nothing except joggers with bottle of vodka in hand. His face was red, pupils dilated and he was breathing heavily.

“Ey, B/N, are you okay?”

“You know, everything was simpler when we were at university,” he said with a sad smile and took a sip of alcohol. You sighed, throw your blazer on the table and sat across him. He offered you his drink but you shook your head. “I had almost everything I wanted. It was all mine. And it cost me nothing. But now? I barely sleep, I can't have sex with women at my work and I can't even go to a bar to find anyone. I'm so frustrated, Y/N. It's all so different now and I can't get use to it.”

“It's called adulthood, men.”

He looked at you thoughtfully. “Yeah, maybe... How do you handle it?”

“Handle what exactly?”

“Come on, don't play dumb, you know what I'm talking about.”

“I definitely cope with it better than you. I'm not wasting myself in a bottle of vodka.” You eyed him from head to toe with pity.

“But I don't see anyone visiting you. And you don't go to parties so often.”

“Well, that's true. I don't really have time...” You rubbed your neck uncomfortable with the truth. “But I can take care of myself alone.”

B/N laughed. “From what I've heard, you surely can.”

You gasped, absolutely shocked. “What did you just say?”

“We have rooms next to each other, Y/N. It's not that weird that I hear... various sounds. And I must say, some of them indeed sound pretty nice...”

“Okay, I think you drunk too much,” you announced, standing up and taking the bottle from him. “Go to your bed because you're talking nonsense.” }

“I'm quite amazed that you remember that, you were pretty wasted.”

“That's not important right now. More to the point, I have an offer that may seem a bit... weird but we will both be... satisfied with the outcome, I think.”

“Stop beating around the bush and spit it out, I'm kinda busy, as you can see.” You moved your hand around yourself, trying to give him a hint that you were leaving the house soon.

“Yeah, okay. So, both of us don't have time for meeting people and we have needs, you can't deny it. Maybe we should help each other?”

Brush that you were holding hit the counter with a thud. “What?”

“We should try being friends-with-benefits.”

You turned around and looked closely at him. You were searching for any sign that he was joking but his expression was dead serious. He really meant it. You were so confused that you said the dumbest possible thing, “But we aren't even friends.”

He blinked a few times, not being sure how to respond. Few extremely long seconds passed before he sighed, almost as if he was disappointed. “You can't tell me you still believe in this, we know too much about each other.”

“But we never talk about ourselves!”

“Oh come on, I remember every damn conversation we had when one of us got drunk, I remember everything you told me about you, every fucking detail. And you probably do, too. Just because we never talked about it, doesn't mean that those things don't linger at the back of my head.”

“Stop it, B/N. It's ridiculous.”

“It's not that ridiculous. It will be a lot easier for us that way...”

“No, cut it out,” you interrupted him. You took a deep breath. “I'm going out now because it's getting weirder every minute. This discussion shouldn't happened so, I don't know, think about what you just said.”

As soon as you stepped outside your shared apartment you took your phone out and dialed Lami's, your best friend's, number. She answered after two signals. “What's up? Are you ready?”

“I'm definitely not in the mood for party right now.”

"Something happened?”

“Yeah and I don't know what to think about it. Can we ditch this party and meet at the usual?”

“Sure, I will be there in fifteen minutes.”

You were sitting by the table, mindlessly stirring your coffee with a straw. Beside you and a couple at the other end of the bar the inside was pretty deserted. From time to time you glanced at them - they were looking around while laughing hysterically, probably planning something shady.

But your mind couldn't concentrate on them for a longer period of time, you still heard B/N's voice inside your head. Was he really thinking about it? How did he even come up with such plan? And most importantly, was he considering you as his friend? It was true, you knew quite a lot about him but was it enough to be his friend?

You didn't notice when Lami came inside and sat across you. “What happened, Y/N?”

You looked up at her, lost. “You're here already.”

“I am and now tell me what's going on. You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“B/N suggested that we should be friends-with-benefits and I don't know what to do with it. I'm not sure if he was joking or what. It's so weird Lami. What am I suppose to do?”

“Whoa, hold on. He did what?”

You sighed. “A few days ago, when he got drunk, we talked a little bit about our sex lives and, you know, they don't exist. And today he told me we should try being FWB because it will be a lot easier for both of us. I don't know if he was serious but he looked fairly confident about it. What's more, he believes that we are friends but we aren't.”

“I wouldn't say that, girl. You don't talk with people you're not close to about sex. Beside you're living together for more than three years, he probably knows more about you than me.”

“That's not true,” you stated, shaking your head.

“Don't be so defensive. Think about it, you saw your lowest points, you were together during them, you comforted each other. And don't even try to brush it off and convince me that it never happened because you told me it did. Remember that time when your grandmother died? Who was taking care of you back then 'cause I think it was B/N. That's exactly what friends do.”

{ When you hung up the phone, tears started rolling down your face. It couldn't be true. You had knew your grandma was sick but you didn't know it was this serious. She couldn't be dead.

You threw the phone across the room; it hit the wall with a loud bang and landed on the floor in a few pieces. Your knees failed you and you collapsed, sobbing loudly.

The door opened suddenly and B/N stood in them. “What are you...” His face filled with worry and he quickly came closer to you. “Hey, what's going on?”

“She's dead... she...,” you stammered, looking up at him. “She died, B/N.”

“Your grandma?” His voice was soft. It was like he was trying to calm you down just with the tone of his voice.

“It's not possible. It's just a sick joke, right?”

He took you into embrace. “Y/N, I'm so sorry.”

“I couldn't say goodbye to her, I couldn't...”

He stayed with you that night, brushing your hair, wiping tears from your face and telling you meaningless stories just to calm you down. Finally, after hours of crying, you finally fell asleep in his arms.” }

“I... fuck, Lami. What am I supposed to do?” You laid your head on the table with a groan.

“If I was in your place,” she started, “I would accept his offer.”

“What?”

“Well, you could say that you have some kind of a past together...”

“It was a one time thing. And we were both hella drunk,” you interrupted her again, annoyed.

“Yeah but still. You're comfortable with each other, I would say that you like him and he likes you, too. And you live together. What more you possibly might need? It's worth a shot, you won't lose anything. After all, it's just a simple deal.”

After you parted ways with Lami, your head was still full of doubts. She had a point – it was just a deal but the thought of discomfort that would come after it scared you. It was true, you liked him and you didn't want any tension between the two of you afterwards. On the other hand, you missed that kind of interactions with men and he wasn't the worst catch – he was sexy, willing and available.

What could go wrong?

You entered your apartment and headed straight to B/N's room. He was sitting on his bed with laptop beside him. His hair was slightly damp and his bare torso glistened in a lamp's light. He looked up, locking his eyes with you.

“Let's do it.”

“Let's do wha... oh shit, are you serious?” He straightened up, suddenly full of energy but also disbelieve at the same time.

“Yes, but we need a few rules.” You sat on the edge of his bed with folded arms. “First of all, we are not talking about it during the day, I don't want it to be the topic of our conversations. Two, we are not staying in one another's bed after. And three, no feelings attached. If anyone starts to feel different about the other one, we are ending it. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good. So... are up for a round,” you asked. You felt a hint of shyness but one look at his charming body ended those thoughts.

“Right now,” he uttered, shocked.

“Yep.” You came closer to him, licking your lips. “Lately I didn't have any time for myself, it also didn't work out today and it was because of you, just so you know so... well, you need to make it up to me.” Your hand touched his bare arm softly. “What do you say, B/N?”

His eyes trailed the move of your fingers. “I... don't know.”

“What? Are you withdrawing from your own offer? Were you joking?”

“No, no, no. I just didn't expect you to agree and be so... eager?”

“I can leave if you want.” You backed off but he grabbed your wrist.

“Stay.”

You grinned and kissed him. His lips were soft, just as you remembered from that one time. He was hesitant for a second but then he eased into your touch. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you closer. You fell on his torso with a moan. New position allowed you to deepened the kiss which became a lot more sloppier and fervent. He moved away to catch a quick breath and you took a chance and put your lips on his throat. You bit him lightly what earned you a deep groan from him. You felt his dick getting harder. You smirked into his skin and started moving your hips in circle. His breath stopped. He yanked your head and rolled you on your back.

“I like it more than I thought,” he said while connecting your lips together again. This time it was much more violent. Your teeth clashed and you moaned loudly, too concentrated on feeling building up in your body. B/N's hand slid over your stomach, leaving burning marks on its way, and he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it up. He pushed your underwear to the side and slid his slender fingers up and down your womanhood, spreading the wetness in the process. You gasped at the sudden contact, sensation being more overwhelming than when you were doing it. He took his time, preparing you. After few minutes of torturing you with slow pace, he inserted two digits into you. Your back arched, your eyes closed on their own and long moan left your mouth.

B/N's lips were attached to your neck, kissing and marking it while his fingers worked their magic. He pumped them in and out in a steady pace whilst his thumb was circling on your clit, bringing you closer to the high. Sometimes his digits curled inside you, hitting that sensitive spot and sending shivers all over your body. Every doubt you had about that agreement disappeared from your mind when climax finally hit you. It was so powerful that you squeezed your legs together and the loudest moan escaped your lips. You tried to catch a breathe but it was too hard, every nerve, every muscle in you was shaking with pleasure.

You heard the sound of zipper being pulled down so you opened eyes and removed your pants. You were quite amazed at how well he was build, his cock was longer and thicker than you expected. You licked your lips.

B/N came between your legs and looked into your eyes with hesitation. “Are you sure about this?”

“Oh for fuck's sake, just fuck me.”

With weird look in his eyes, he finally entered you. You both moaned at the same time. He leaned his head on your shoulder and stayed still for a moment. “You feel so good, Y/N.”

“Stop talking and move,” you ordered, clenching your fingers on his hair. He glanced at you and slowly thrusted into you. You arched your back again. His moves were slow but hard. You forgot how good it felt. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

You were euphoric. Meaningless words along with curses were leaving your lips constantly as if it was some kind of a mantra.  B/N's hand sneaked between your bodies and he started rubbing your clit in an attempt to drive you closer to the edge. Your legs tighten around his hips in response. He rolled into you, hitting you deeper each time. Begging screams left your lips after each thrust.

You yanked his hair harshly when climax finally ran over your body. Your mind was clouded with pleasure. B/N moved a few more times and collapsed on you, trying to catch his breath as well.

“That was definitely what I needed,” he said with lips close to your ear.

“Yeah, that's true,” you agreed and pushed him off of you. The loss of contact with him made you shudder but you ignored it and stood up.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving? Remember our second rule,” you answered, grabbing your underwear from the floor.

“Oh... right.”

“Hey.” B/N entered the kitchen when you were putting scrambled eggs on a plate.

“Hey. Do you want some? I made a little too much,” you said while looking at the pan. To tell the truth, it was a lie. You made it intentionally, knowing that B/N didn't eat anything proper for a few days. Lately he was extremely busy, he came back from work late and went to sleep immediately. For some – unknown reason for you – it broke your heart.

“Sure.”

He sat on a tall chair and followed your every move with his eyes. You put a plate in front of him and joined him. After a while you finally noticed that he was looking at you and you swallowed the bite you took. “What?”

“Nothing. Thanks for the food.”

You were both silent for a few minutes before you spoke up. “How's work?”

B/N took a deep breath. “It's like hell lately. Our projects' deadlines are coming, everyone's in the office running around like crazy. There's so much to do that I don't even know what to do first. I'm so tired, Y/N.”

“Maybe you want me to help you?”

“Nah, I'm sure you have your own work to do.”

“Actually, today I'm free so I can lend you a hand. I see how burnt out you are.”

He looked carefully at you. “For real?”

“I wouldn't offer it if I wasn't serious.”

“I would be eternally grateful but still, I don't want you to overworked yourself. I know you spent two last nights doing reports.”

“And now you're doing the same and I can't stand it,” you groaned angry. “You look like you're gonna collapsed any minute. I'm sure you will do the same thing as me recently and then you will be even more tired than you already are. And I can't accept that. You can't refuse me, I'm going to help you and that's the end of this conversation.”

“But...”

“There's no but, B/N.”

His face expression softened and small, shy smile appeared on his lips. “I owe you.”

After you had finished eating, you both moved to B/N's room. You sat on his bed with the laptop and started typing numbers into the file. You were almost hundred percent sure that he gave you the easiest possible task. He explained it to you in detail, trying to describe it in a lot darker colors than it in fact was. But at least – you were helping him. It wasn't like you were feeling differently about him or anything... or that was what you were telling yourself. You just felt sorry for him. He wasn't his usual self and that affected you as well in some twisted way.

You finished your task way before B/N but you didn't speak up right away, instead you took a quick glance at him. He was sitting by the desk, concentrated more than you ever saw him, his glasses sat low on his nose and he munched on the tip of the pen. He licked his finger and flipped through the pages, spread in front of him. You gulped at the sight of it. He looked... sexy. Wave of heat ran over your body. You didn't want to interrupt him but suddenly you felt needy. It was a week since your first time together and you would lie if you said that you didn't crave his touch again.

You stood up and came closer to him. Your arms found their way around his shoulders. B/N looked at you puzzled. “What are you doing?”

You kissed the shell of his ear and purred seductively, “I want you.”

“I... I would love to fuck you right now but... I need to finish this,” he stammered, gazing at files.

You went around his chair and sat on his thigh. Sly smile appeared on your lips. “You can finish, I will do the work.”

“What...” he cut himself off in mid-sentence when you started moving back and forth on his leg. You applauded yourself for wearing sport short and nothing more. The friction between your core and his denim clothed thigh felt heavenly. You threw your head backwards and moaned loudly. B/N's hands squeezed your hips with so much power that it hurt. But you didn't care, the overall feeling was too good. He put his lips on your exposed neck and murmured, “Why do you look so hot, goddammit.”

You groaned, speeding your actions. His hands guided you, helping you to keep steady pace. You noticed a wet spot on B/N's jeans and you were about to let him know but he slapped your ass hard out of nowhere. You moaned, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Fuck, B/N.”

“What do you want, baby?” You felt smile forming on his lips. You would react at that baby but he flexed his muscles, making you squeezed your eyes shut. He pushed you down and repeated his move. You whined, digging your nails into his biceps. Your moves became sloppier, friction between your bodies turned into unbearable feeling. B/N bit sensitive skin under your ear and you finally came undone, spilling your juices all over his clothes. You trembled, trying to catch a breath. “Do you feel better now?”

“I do,” you said but didn't move from your current position. Your arms were still around his neck but he didn't seem to care. “Do you want me to help you with this,” you asked, touching his hard cock with just tips of your digits. He closed his eyes with a groan but gripped your hand in his at the same time.

“I will take care of it. Thanks for helping me, now go to sleep.”

“You're...”

“It's late and you need to wake up early. Just go to sleep, Y/N, don't worry about me.”

You hesitated for a moment, with pursed lips. He laughed loudly and nudged your hip. “Okay, okay. Goodnight, B/N.” Before you even registered what you were doing, you leaned in and kiss his cheek. You stepped back as fast as you could and left his room before he had a chance to say anything.

You opened another bottle of wine. It was the third one that night. Whole room was spinning and it was so hot that you took off your clothes, leaving only bra and shorts on. You were mad, your eyes burnt making you dangerously near crying.

The front door opened but you didn't care.

“Y/N?” You looked at B/N's worried expression and you couldn't hold your emotions under control any longer. Tears started rolling down your cheeks, hurt sob left your parted lips. He sped to you and took you into his arms. You pressed your face into his chest, feeling somehow safe close to him. “What happened?”

“That fucker, Kim, he... he... did it again. He's disgusting. He said such gross things and spanked me. I screamed at him and boss came but... but I feel... dirty. Why me again,” you cried.

B/N squeezed you tighter. “I'm gonna fucking kill him.”

You wrapped your arms around him. Your fist clenched on his shirt desperately. “He got fired, he won't be around me anymore. And I don't think he will come look after me. I was just his another toy but I'm finally free from him. Only those memories... I still feel his hands on me.”

“Oh baby...” He stroked your hair gently. His voice was full of pain.

“Can you do something for me,” you asked, looking up.

“Anything you want.”

“Can you touch me? I want you to... make love to me, not fuck me... Are you okay with bending our rules? Can you pretend that you love me? That you really want me?”

“I...” His face was full of sadness and you didn't know why. Was it because you look so pathetically? Was he disgusted?

“Don't worry, I understand.” You tried to freed yourself but he swiftly took you into his arms and headed to your bedroom.

“You don't understand, Y/N.” He put you on the bed, grabbed your face and wiped tears off of your cheeks with his fingers. “You don't understand.”

He attached his lips to yours. Gentleness of the kiss shocked you. He was carefully touching you just as if you were made from glass, like you could break any minute. You melted into his touch, intoxicated with his every move. You were amazed how good he was in his acting. If you didn't know that it was only a performance, you would believe him.

B/N's hands roamed around your body attentively, trying to touch every inch of it. Every feather-like touch set your skin on fire. His lips followed traces that his fingers left with gentle pecks. You shuddered under him.

Why did it feel so different?

“You're so pretty, Y/N,” he said, kissing your jaw.

“You don't need to pretend so hard.” You voice was quiet, filled with sadness. Oh, how much you wished that it was real.

He didn't say anything, instead he slowly undressed both of you, looking directly in your eyes. All of the sudden, you felt shy. His gaze was so piercing that you wanted to hide yourself.

He put your leg around his hip and entered you carefully. You moaned and hugged him. He was so gentle, so caring... as if he really loved you. It felt so good. Your head was spinning with the feeling of his proximity. He moved slowly, hanging his own head low. His hot breath mixed with yours; his low grunts mixed with yours moans. You combed your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at them. He purred just a few inches above your mouth, pleased with your actions. You arched your back and pressed yourself to his naked chest. You wanted to be closer to him, to feel his skin, his heat all over your body.

“B/N.” His name left your parted lips in a quiet, almost inaudible, tone. He pushed a few loose strands of hair from you face and kissed your temple. You closed your eyes. You shuddered when he thrusted in you especially hard. Heat started to build in your abdomen. “I'm so close.”

He leaned his forehead on yours and pecked your nose lightly. “Keep looking at me.” You obeyed him without hesitation. His gaze was full of... admiration? Love?

Why?

He sped up his movements, interlocking his fingers with yours.

Stop it.

You squeezed his hands hardly as your climax hit you. The heat spread through your body, leaving the intense feeling of satisfaction. Every muscle in you shook with pleasure. B/N groaned and came undone after you. He planted a few kisses on your face, finally kissing your lips.

“Let me stay with you tonight,” he pleaded, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“I... you...”

“Just this once.”

You were silent for a few minutes. You wanted him to stay but wasn't it too much? Hesitantly, you said, “Okay.”

He helped you to clean yourself and as soon as he wrapped his arms around you, you began to drift into sleep. You felt safe... complete... in his embrace.

The last thing you heard before you fell asleep were the least words you thought you would ever hear from B/N.

“I wish you knew that I wasn't pretending...”

You were sitting in your usual place at the café, waiting for Lami impatiently. She was supposed to meet with you half an hour ago. You scrolled through messages on your phone – one from her and a few from B/N. Since the morning he was writing to you, asking where were you and if you were okay. You left the apartment and him, still sleeping in you bed, as soon as you had woken up. You felt weird and confused about what happened yesterday. And it wasn't only because of what he had said but also because of the fact that it felt... delightful. The thought of him made your heart skipped a bit.

You looked up when the door opened and you waved to Lami.

“Hey, what did you want to talk about?”

“Remember when you told me that this offer with B/N will be a simple deal? Well, it doesn't seem that simple now?”

Lami burst into laughter. “I'm not really surprised, if I'm being honest.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, Y/N, you didn't notice that he was into you since the university?” You opened your mouth and closed them right away. You didn't understand what she was talking about. You just looked at her with wide opened eyes. “For real?! He had moved in with you, took care of you whenever you were drunk and now this and it still didn't tell you anything?”

“He knew I would be his roommate?”

“Of course. I was the one who told him about your situation... and not only about this, to tell the truth.”

“What?”

“We were talking about you quite a lot back then. He was extremely interested in you. And he still is, tho.”

“So why he never told me about it?” Feeling of confusion overwhelmed you.

“That's probably because he was scared that you wouldn't be interested in him. But I'm not sure.”

“I... what am I supposed to do, Lami?”

“And what do you want to do? Think about those few last months and the way you see him. It's not really my place to give advice, you know that.”

Few last months... Did anything change?

Of course it did.

You definitely became closer. He was a lot nicer, more often showed that he cared about you and you... you felt safer with him around. You wanted to spend more time with him, not only in bedroom but also in other aspects of your daily life. You remembered how much you had enjoyed those times when you were eating together, when you helped him with his work and how grateful he was because of it. It made you feel needed.

And those conversation while being drunk. They gave you not only insight in his feelings, but also consolation. He helped you a lot of times, never refused you a shoulder to lean upon and never expect anything in return.

And what about yesterday's night? Everything felt so different, so... right. You felt loved as never before. His words sparked a fire in your heart and you didn't want to ignore it anymore. Deep down you wished you would hear this from him some day.

You glanced at smiling Lami. “Go get your man, girl.”

You entered your apartment and saw B/N in the livingroom. He was sitting on the couch with the phone in hand, nervously tapping his foot on the floor. As soon as he saw you, he stood up.

“Are you okay? You didn't pick up my calls and...” You interrupted him, hugging him tightly. He wrapped his own arms around you instinctively. “Something happened?”

“Actually, yes,” you answered with a smile. “Fuck those rules. Especially the third one.”

His eyes filled with hope and your heart stopped beating. “You're not joking, right?”

“No way in hell I would lie to someone I love.”

Smile spread across his lips and he bent down to kiss you.

[chikkampli]

That one crappy 7 page angsty Saiouma fic NOBODY asked for (vague mentions of suic*de i guess???)

It was just another day.

  Another day in which the unstoppable Supreme Leader of Evil™ was bawling his eyes out.

  Kokichi didn't know why he was crying, he just was. Who am I kidding, of course he knew why he was crying, but this wasn't a common occurrence. The small, purple-haired male knew his mental stability was slowly deteriorating and falling away into nothing, but he still kept up his act of being the unbreakable and strong leader. Nobody understood that he just *had* to keep up this facade; it was the only thing keeping him from feeling even more emotionally vulnerable than he already felt. He hates it, he hates everything and everybody. He hates his parents, he hates his classmates, everybody.

  He hated how they let him suffer. He hated how they never asked if he was okay. He hated how nobody cared. He hated that he was treated like he didn't matter. He hated that everybody hated him, so he had to act like the actual villain. Kokichi knew nothing was his fault, he tried telling himself that every single day. His inner voice chanting things like It's not your fault. They're just messed up people. You're a good person. It's not your fault. But now...he just felt like he was lying to himself. He made them hate him. The Supreme Leader of Evil™, Kokichi Oma, made everybody hate him. Why? Because he sucked.

  He was weak and frail, too kind for his own good. He was taken advantage of. And that's why people hated him in the past. Now, he's become stronger. Stronger in a sense of hiding your true feelings behind fake confidence, malice, and lies. Now that's why people hated him now. He is no good, messed up, stupid, unworthy of forgiveness, and a liar. That was the part people hated about him so, so much.

  His lies. He lied so much that it made people assault him multiple times before, but he always got back at them with his petty nature, often succeeding. People hated how he always got his way, no matter what. And his way was what most people call "bad". That his way was the worst way humanly possible.

  Kokichi sniffled, “...This...this is what you wanted right? For people to hate you? Stop being a baby and man up. You chose to be this way, you chose to be the villain. You made this decision on your own. Don't go crying over how you're all sad and lonely and unloved. You are a nuisance,  and you will always be a nuisance. You stupid, low-life liar.”

   His tone gradually became more and more angry each letter he spit out, “You're so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! Continue how you are! Nobody will ever love you and nobody will ever help you. You're happiest this way,” his voice was wavering, “Y-You're happiest this way. Nobody...Nobody will ever mistreat you ever again. You're so smart. The greatest!” 

   Kokichi chuckled a bit, until he started laughing as loudly as he could. “AHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHA AAAAAAA! NEE-HEEHEE...HEE...Hee...hee...heh…” The boy started breaking down into tears again, shaking uncontrollably. He couldn't help it. Today was the worst.

  “Try to catch me if you can, Harumaki-chan!! Maki-Roll! Harukawa-san!! Maki-chan! Nee-heehee!” Kokichi ran as fast as he could around the school, hiding in every place possible. His small frame was handy after all, being 5 '1 AND 19 (almost 20) had its perks. Why was he running from the female assassin, you may ask? Well the answer was simple.

   He stole her promise ring. Only because they had a rivalry going on. Definitely not because he was jealous of Maki Harukawa finding a person she loved and not him (Spoiler alert: he was jealous because of that!). He spotted the boys’ locker room, clearly having a chance to hide and rest before moving on, he ran inside. He stopped running once he entered the boy's locker room. He tried to take in as much air as he could quietly and started to regulate his breathing. He looked around. ‘Hm...it's empty in here. That's weird.’ Kokichi held back a chuckle as he decided to hide in one of the lockers. Yes, he was that small. Once he was fully inside and in a comfortable position, he covered his mouth with his left hand, breathing quietly through his nose, and used his right hand to fish for the ring in his pocket. The moment he set his hands on it, he felt around in his other pocket for his phone. He hadn't had a good look at it since he basically stole it and got caught by the one and only Maki Harukawa. He turned on his phone and shined the brightness onto the ring, it was gorgeous in every single possible way a ring could be. It was a golden ring, with leaves and vines engraved on it, leading up to the gem. It was a crimson-colored gem, Kokichi assumed it was a ruby, he wasn't good with jewels at all. The ruby complimented the whole entire ring, making it 10000× more beautiful. On the perimeter of the ring were white, clear gems. Kokichi assumed that they were diamonds.

   On the inside was a sentence. The engraved words said, “Forever mine, Kaito Momota”. Kokichi almost felt bad. Almost. This was a very pretty ring. ‘For a very ugly girl.’ Kokichi snickered at his butthole-eyness. It was very classic, but it never gets old. He looked down at the ring and decided that he should return it to Maki as soon as possible. He always returned the things he stole from his classmates, but this one was urgent. He had return it ASAP. He didn't know why he felt like he had to, maybe it was because he felt a bit of compassion for his arch nemesis. Or maybe because he felt he was stealing a symbol of love. Kokichi didn't know. He smiled, Kaito really loved her. Even though Kaito was always at his neck for things he did, Maki and Kaito made a cute couple. Kokichi would've felt horrible if something like this happened to one of his real-life OTPs. Kokichi sighed contently and exited the locker.

   Once he got out, he stretched his petite body. He was sure he hadn't been in there for long, but his limbs were kind of stiff. But the thing is, he was there for a long time. He just lost track of time. He walked out of the locker room, only to see a raging Kaito sprinting towards him. ‘Well shit.’ Once Kaito caught up to him, he slapped the Kokichi. 

   Kokichi stumbled back a few steps and looked up at the male, hand touching where he slapped him. The smaller boy started grinning. “Well...that was different from your usual punch. What's the hold up, Momo-kun? Kaito? Hero?”

   Kaito clenched his teeth, “You know what I want. So give it to me. Now!” 

   This was unusual for Kaito. He would usually be more reckless and loud, but this time...the rage was quietly emitting off of him. The negative energy present, even in a 50-mile radius. Kokichi felt nervous, but he didn't show it. The purple-haired fetus put on a bored expression, “Geez, fine, here's the stupid ring.” He flung it at his chest, the gem reflecting the sun beautifully. Man, Kokichi was *super* jealous. “What does it matter anyway? You guys are probably gonna get divorced or whatnot, so why promise something that might not happen? Hey, where's Maki anyway? I'm surprised she isn't here,” he gasped dramatically, “Is she scared of me? O-Omigod. Score-!”

   “Shut up.” Kaito stared at Kokichi, his purple eyes glowing. Like Maki's, but Maki's is way more intense. “You have no idea what you've done, do you even know how important that ring is to the both of us? No, you don't. Why? Because you don't have anybody to love, and nobody to love you back. Isn't that right, Kokichi?”

   Kokichi's bored expression didn't falter. Moments later, it turned into a huge grin. He was so good at acting like nothing phased him at all. “Aw, Kaito! Your words are pathetic! A Supreme Leader of Evil™ doesn't need or want anybody to love them, or anybody to love! Oh my GOD, you're so dumb! Look,” he chuckled, “you already have the ring. Go back to your little Harumaki or whatever. You're wasting my precious time!” he stomped his right foot onto the ground, smirking smugly as he looked Kaito in the eyes. “Read my lips. I. Don't. Care.”

   Kaito exhaled deeply, trying to not beat the other boy until he's dead. “...I'll see you later, Kokichi.” He walked off leaving a grinning Kokichi alone.

   Once Kokichi was sure Kaito left, and more importantly, that he was alone, he sighed sadly. His grin turned into a frown, and his once confident pose turned into an insecure slouch. No, he was not going to cry right now, not today, not ever. Crying is for the weak, you can’t cry! Kokichi Oma, the Supreme Leader of Evil™, cannot cry! The people who look up to your evil cannot see this act of weakness. It’s pathetic, and a supreme leader is not pathetic! Kokichi Oma is not pathetic! Kokichi told himself this for the remainder of the day, before he came home from school. Those words that came out of Kaito’s mouth really hurt him. He had never expected someone like...like Kaito to tell him that he was basically unloveable. It only further proved to him that his entire existence was a mistake. It should be erased. Nobody needs someone like himself in this world. He only causes problems and...and he doesn’t deserve love. He doesn’t deserve life. He is just a waste of space. A waste of life. His life is meaningless. He only brings despair and all those negative feelings into the world, so why should he exist? Why should people like him exist?

   Kokichi Oma deserves to die.

·                    ·

·                    ·

·                    ·

·                    ·

   Kokichi took several deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm himself. He didn’t need nor want to be in this emotional state so he tried breathing exercises. It didn’t work, he relapsed into, once again, ugly sobbing. 

   “Why…? Why? Why am I like this?! What did I do to deserve this? Maybe it’ll just be better if I just die.”

   Little did he know, a certain navy blue-haired male was listening on the other side of the wall, devastated at the state his neighbor was in. Their apartment walls were thin, and Shuichi Saihara was Kokichi Oma’s next-door neighbor. Shuichi was just enjoying his evening tea and reading one of his new mystery novels he picked up at the bookstore, when he heard quiet sobs from the wall. He ears were immediately fixated on the sobs, but he didn't know if he should comfort the boy next door or not, so he kept quiet and tried to focus on his novel, but he couldn’t. The sobbing had gotten louder and louder, and even sentences started coming out. Shuichi felt very uncomfortable. Then it stopped for a few moments, shaky breaths and little hiccups resounding in his bedroom. After those moments, Kokichi started to cry even louder than before. ‘I can’t just leave him alone…he’s obviously hurting! I have to help him in any way I possibly can! Maybe talking through the wall might help...since his sobs are so prominent…’

   Shuichi bookmarked the page he was on and scooted over to the wall the sobs were most prominent. He was a little reluctant to speak, he didn't know how to comfort the other person. Once he had fully prepared himself, he spoke. “Hello? Do you need somebody to talk to?”  Shuichi spoke like he was doing a school or work presentation. 

   The sobbing abruptly stopped, the person’s breathing was still uneven and little hiccups could be heard. Shuichi fidgeted. Was this a bad idea? Probably. Some people get nervous and anxious around new people. It was quiet for a moment until a weak, hoarse voice called out.

   “Am I going crazy? Oh god, no. I don’t want a voice inside my head! Not now, not ever! Go away, you stupid voice!”

   The vulnerability and harshness of the voice startled Shuichi for a second, then he spoke up. “I’m not a voice inside your head, I’m your neighbor. My name’s Shuichi Saihara. I want to help you. I heard you...crying on the other side of the wall. Today was horrible, wasn’t it?”

   Kokichi stayed quiet for a moment. He was caught! Oh, the embarrassment he has to deal with later! But for now, he didn’t care. He wanted and needed anything to make him feel better. 

“Kokichi Oma. My name is Kokichi Oma.”

   Shuichi recognized that name. It was the name of the person Maki and Kaito hated so much. They said he had no sympathy, no true emotions, and that he couldn’t genuinely cry. That Kokichi Oma was heartless. Shuichi never believed that, and he definitely doesn’t believe that now. This Kokichi Oma was crying. Sobbing. 

   “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kokichi. So...let’s start with the basics. What happened today that made you feel the way you feel right now?”

   Kokichi shifted into a more comfortable position, and leaned a bit closer to the wall. His bed wasn't touching the wall, so it would've been impossible to touch it without falling over. “Well, I deserve to feel this way. I took my arch nemesis’s promise ring. I know, a pretty shitty move if you ask me. Well anybody, really. I knew it was a shitty move. I have to be the villain after all. Don’t pretend you didn’t know what I said to myself before you butted in, I know you heard it. These walls are so hopelessly thin,” Kokichi frowned at the thought. Somebody just had to hear him sobbing his little heart out. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. “Anyway...I do a lot of unnecessary things. Like stealing, teasing, just to make people hate me. So I stole her promise ring. Then her boyfriend found me, I guess he already knew I took it so he got scarily mad and ordered me to give it back to him. I did, but I threw it at his chest. Classic Kokichi move. I basically told him that they were probably gonna get divorced or break up anyway so it wouldn’t matter in the long run,” Kokichi yawned, all this crying made him kind of sleepy. “He got mad and then told me that basically nobody loves me. And he couldn’t be any more right then. I, being me, told him that he was stupid for thinking that was an insult because I don’t need anybody to love or anybody to love me. But his words stuck with me. It made me think about my whole life from beginning to end. How I was abused, to the bullies at school, to my parents, even the rest of my family. Nobody has ever shown me genuine love and genuine patience. Even now they don’t. I put up this front so I couldn’t be hurt anymore...but everything hurts so much. I can’t take it anymore, Shuichi. I can’t!”

   “It's okay, Kokichi. Cry it out, I know you're holding your sobs. Everything will be fine within time, it's okay to cry. It's okay to feel vulnerable at times. It's okay. Let it all out,” Shuichi said in the most melodic and comforting tone he could muster, hoping and praying it would help the other male in the slightest.

   It was silent for a moment, before he heard soft whimpers. Soft whimpers turned into crying, crying turned into sobbing, and sobbing turned into ugly sobbing. Shuichi swore he could feel the other boy's body shaking and fidgeting. He could feel it.

   “I...I just don't know if I can k-keep on d-doing this, S-Shuichi. I've been lying a-and p-pranking and doing this and that for a-a-all these years and just look at me! I'm not e-even an o-o-ounce stronger than I was before. I'm j-just as w-weak, but now I can hide it better. Nothing changed.”

   Shuichi just listened to the other male. The broken sobs escaping Kokichi's mouth almost made him cry, but he had to stay strong. Kokichi seemed like the person who didn't want their feelings affecting themselves and others, so he'd just have to cry later.

   Kokichi continued, “I'm just the same. They were right. I have no place in this world. I'm not worthy of anything,” he got quiet, his shaky breaths the only thing Shuichi could hear.

   “No, that's wrong! I may not know you that well, but I know damn well that you do have a place in this world, and you ARE worthy of things! You are worth more than you think you do. I can't really say anything about your personality, because I don't know much,” Shuichi voice softened, “but I know you're a very good person deep down. You're just troubled, is all. All you need is a loving environment. And that environment can start with me. I, Shuichi Saihara, will become your friend.”

   The lilac-eyed male went silent. This stranger, he barely knows...wants to be his friend? Does he know what he's getting into? Being friends...with a liar like him. Can this stranger become any stupider? “...I don't think you want that…”

   “I want it, I'm sure of it.”

   “Plenty of people didn't want me in the first place. Why you?”

   “Because I know you're a good person.”

   “I'm not that great. I'm a nuisance.”

   “No you're not. You are very great.”

   “You barely even know me.”

   “So?”

   “So? You have no idea what I'm like normally.”

    “But I know who you are on the inside, and that beats everything.”

   “That's stupid.”

   “No it's not.”

   The two bickered on for a while, before Kokichi finally gave in. “Fine. Don't regret it.”

   Shuichi smiled, “I won't.”

[coffeeandyoongi]

Happy New Year! (Yoongi one-shot)

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Word count: 2.4k 

TW: I made Jungkook a cheater lol, I’m sorry. Break-ups and a little cursing? 

After your boyfriend broke up with you so suddenly, the last thing you wanted to do was to party. Yes, you understood that you couldn’t just spend New Year’s Eve moping around, it wasn’t healthy, But it was also understandable for you to have no energy whatsoever when it came to seeing other people. Those persons had seen you with your partner while you were so happy, blinded by love, ignoring the fact that something had been wrong for a pretty long time.

You were also not crazy about the idea of facing the people who knew something was up, but hadn’t even bothered to tell you about your boyfriend’s infidelity. But you guessed that even if they had, you would’ve never admitted it to yourself. Being honest, you had noticed Jungkook had been acting weird. You also had suspected that he might have been cheating. But that theory fell flat when you recognised that putting up with his strange behaviour was less painful than dealing with infidelity and a break-up.

So even when you could feel it in your gut, you ignored it.

When Jungkook sent you a text saying that he “needed time” on Christmas Day, while the snow slowly started to cover up the screen of your phone, still displaying that despicable text. You didn’t bother to reply. How could you? In your mind, there was nothing. It was like someone had punched you on the stomach.

You had done such a good job by ignoring the red flags that you completely dismissed the fact that Jungkook could break up with you at any moment. But of all days, he had to choose Christmas?

You were expecting to get that red scarf you had discovered the other day in his drawer as a present, but now you were sure that was not meant for you.

You looked down to the little white bag you were carrying. The insignificant red bow, almost mocking you, looked ridiculous. You thought about someone who might want an overly expensive wristwatch, but then remembered that you had bought everyone you knew something. If you hadn’t spent so much money on it, you would’ve gladly set it on fire. Because that was what you were feeling right then; you wanted to get rid of everything that could remind you of Jungkook. Every photo you had put in your flat, the ones on your phone, the stupid pink heart right next to the name of the person who had dumped you over text just now seem so pathetic every time you glanced at it.

You couldn’t fight back the tears. Some people would even stare at you, turn their heads, making you feel a million times worse.

It was dumb to feel bad. Your friends had gotten tired of repeating the same thing over and over again: “he’s the asshole, not you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You knew that, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty, like it had been your fault. Even when he had never admitted that he had another person in his life, you often found yourself thinking of the times where you could’ve done something to prevent him from cheating. Maybe if you had said the right thing. Maybe if you had been more focused on the relationship. A little bit more effort…

Somewhere in your group of friends, you heard that Jungkook had moved on pretty quickly to a girl you had being mentioned from time to time. It wasn’t as surprising as it should’ve been.

You tried to stay away from his social media, you really tried. Nevertheless, when he tweeted something about a girl, something suggestive, teasing, that seemed to be directly aimed to hurt only you… It burned. You were not sad anymore, that stupid feeling was replaced by pure anger. Revenge, even.

But going back to the party; no, you didn’t really want to go. You wanted to stay at home, maybe watch a cheesy movie that made you forget about the world for an hour and a half with a big bowl of hot soup. You were actually already typing an excuse, when your eyes wondered over your room. They landed on the white and golden dress you had planned to wear tonight. It would be a waste not to wear it, given the fact that you looked so good in it, even under the cheap lightening of the store where you had got it from.

With your dress in hand, you typed a quick “count on me”.

When you were at the door, waiting for Minjee to open the door, self-consciousness started to creep on you. Maybe you should’ve worn the other shoes, this dress was too short, too revealing, something you were not, not anymore at least. But when the door opened, you realised it didn’t matter. You had to suck it up until next year… Literally.

Minjee smiled at you while tilting her head as she asked how you were doing, something you had started to noticed people would do when they knew you weren’t okay. You smiled back and said that you were fine. You believed that. Right then, trying to ignore the cold weather, even in a short dress, you were okay. With that response, she seemed happy, and led you through the house to the backyard, where a big table was set and the music blasting.

You recognised the faces of some of your friends (the ones that had said were coming). As you made your way to say hi to them, you also noticed some new faces. In particular, two guys, you were as surprised as you were when they saw you.

“Y/n, these are Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi. They’re friends with Jungkook,” Minjee filled you in.

So that was why they were looking at you so surprised. They weren’t expecting you.

You couldn’t remember Jungkook ever mentioning them. Not even once. Hoseok smiled at you, but Yoongi was another story. He barely made eye contact with you when you said hi to him.

“Jungkook’s coming?” You found yourself asking.

There was an uncomfortable silence after you made that question. You could only guess what they were all thinking: “poor y/n, still hung up on her ex”.

“Yes, he always does. He’s running a little late, that’s all.”

As expected. He was always late.

You were just finishing your first plate and your third cup of diet Coke when Jungkook appeared. You hadn’t noticed Minjee leaving the table to go get the door, so you almost choked when you saw the tall figure of your ex in the backyard, just a few meters away from you. And the worst thing? He looked good. He was wearing those stupid black leather pants with a black shirt.

You followed his movements while he greeted everyone. When he looked at you, you quickly turned your gaze to your food, acting as if it was the most important thing now.

“Hi, how are you?” He asked when he plopped down on the chair next to you.

Fucking asshole, how dare he talk to you so casually?

“Just peachy,” you replied without looking at him, “and you?”

“Oh, fine. I’m fine.”

“I bet,” you murmured.

“What?”

“Great. I said ‘great’.”

Jungkook didn’t seem to care about your relationship, and deep down, you knew that was how you should act too. So the fact that you were hurt by how happy and unbothered he sounded was displeasing, to say the least. You didn’t know why this was so easy for him, yet so difficult for you.

You listened to your friends talk about meaningless things. They talked about their New Year’s resolutions and you wondered if there was even the necessity to have one. Most of them were forgotten by February anyway.

“What’s your New Year’s resolution, y/n?” Seokjin asked, making the whole table to look at you.

You gulped your drink.

“Work out more?” You dumbly replied.

A few hums of agreement followed. Everyone continued their conversations. Everyone but one person; Yoongi. He was staring at you with an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

What was his problem?

The dinner went on smoothly. You focused on your food, tried to ignore the funny looks Yoongi gave you. You checked your phone. Fifteen minutes to twelve.

Maybe if you hadn’t been so engulfed in your own sorrow you would’ve noticed Hoseok trying to open a bottle of champagne. The pop of the cork leaving the bottle was enough to make you raise your head from your phone. It was just in time to see the cork flying toward your face, or your eye, if you wanted to be specific. You covered your eye as you heard a gasp coming from everyone on the table.

A few “are you okay’s” were never replied by you. You were fine. Perfectly fine with a palpitating eye.

“Hoseok!” You heard someone say. “It’s not midnight yet, you idiot!”

“I’m sorry. I’ll help!” Hoseok, you assumed, rushed his words.

“I think you’ve done enough,” the first voice declared. There was no bite, and you swore you heard a faint chuckle. “I’ll take her to the kitchen for some ice.”

At that point, you were covering your whole face. You didn’t know why you were so embarrassed, but the whole night you had achieved to ignore Jungkook, who was sitting right next to you, but now, you were oddly aware of his presence. You figured that it would be easier to cover your face and avoid his eyes.

You felt two big hands on your shoulders, urging you to get up of your seat. You obeyed mainly because you were so ready to leave that scene. With gentle movements, the hands guided you to the kitchen and pushed you against the counter.

“Jump in while I look for some ice,” the guy instructed.

You did exactly that. Soon enough, your heard steps getting closer to you. Softer than expected, the guy put the ice wrapped in what you assumed was an old dishcloth. The cold felt so good on your injured eye that you couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Without noticing you put your hand over the guy’s which was holding the ice in place. 

“Oh, s-sorry,” you said as you put your hand on your side.

“It’s fine.”

After a few minutes, you decided that you wanted to see his face. So you opened one eye (the one that wasn’t injured, of course) and saw Min Yoongi, with a worried look on his face. When he noticed you staring at him, he applied pressure on your eye, which made you squeak in pain.

“Shit, sorry!”

There was something in his voice. You hadn’t known him for long (maybe four, three hours?) but even that was enough for you to notice that Yoongi wasn’t the type of person to show a lot of emotion. So, in response to that uncharacteristic reaction, you laughed. He was taken back by it, nevertheless, he started to chuckle too. Between chuckles, you barely noticed when you started to cry. It began with tears that you assumed were happy ones, but then you noticed you couldn't stop them. Soon, you were sniffing and Yoongi stopped laughing and took the ice away from your eye.

All the feelings that hadn’t caught up on you since the breakup just fell on you. You thought about how stupid you had been for not even bothering to confront Jungkook on his behaviour. You thought about the time wasted on trying to revive your relationship. But more importantly, you thought about who was the one suffering at the end.

Yoongi’s hand found your cheek. And that touch was so gentle, something you had been craving since Christmas, that it made you stop crying altogether. You opened your eyes and saw him leaning his body toward you so he his face would be on the same level as yours. You realised something; he was cute. Back in the table, you were too occupied to even look at him closely. And his pink, round lips were right there.

He said something, you knew that because his lips moved, but you didn’t hear it. You were focused on something else.

Without thinking it through, you leaned in and kissed him. He stiffed. You couldn’t blame him, you hadn’t really warned him. But as soon as the kissed began, it finished. When you noticed that Yoongi wasn’t responding to the kiss, you backed off as if his lips burned with your hands over your mouth. To be fair, he looked just as shocked as you did.

“I don’t know why I did that,” you babbled, “I’m so sorry.”

“I might know why,” he spoke.

Yeah, you might know too.

“Jungkook told you.”

“He did, yeah,” Yoongi confirmed, “but even if he hadn’t, it wouldn’t take a genius to notice it. You didn’t look at him all night.”

That made you smile a little.

“You know it’s okay to miss him, right?” He asked, now looking for your eyes with his gaze.

“He cheated on me. What kind of masochist would I be if I missed that asshole?”

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to insult Jungkook right in front of his friend, but you couldn’t help it. And Yoongi didn’t seem to mind. He even chuckled. To hear his laugh. It was refreshing.

“I don’t know about masochism, but a human being with feelings would feel sad. Give yourself some time to grief and all that jazz.”

This was the first time someone told you that feeling sad because of this wasn’t weird or pathetic. All your friends had been a royal pain in the ass, telling you to move on to another guy as fast as possible so that you would forget all about Jungkook. But the worst thing was that you listened, even when you knew that wasn’t the answer.

A distant explosion startled you two. In look for the source of the sound, you turned your head and saw through the window; a firework. It was followed by more and more. The sky was soon painted in bright colours that blended with the stars. You also heard your friends celebrating from the backyard. It was midnight.

“Happy New Year,” Yoongi said.

You faced him with a smile. The first genuine smile since Christmas.

“Happy New Year, Yoongi.”

[txicgf]

it's weird... somehow im both the worst and best ive ever been, it is ... definitely an experience.

because of the deep existential crisis that's been going on since may, and the eating disorder , ive forced myself into healthy habits, fuck, i've lost fifty pounds - im not the lapdog of a girl who isn't interested, in fact i have something good going on im NOT fucking up for once - but at the same time i know if it didn't work out and we were still friends I'd be completely fine. im somehow completely secure in myself --- im working on trying to stop performing for everyone and myself all the time, i deleted more than half my social media (everything except Twitter+here+snap[notifs off at all times tho]+YouTube), i don't really give a shit about any of the people i used to be so preoccupied with worrying about, and i sure as hell don't give a shit about what about me is cringe. im just happy as i am y'know? and sure ,,,, the eating disorder stuff ISNT the best, but honestly it's my form of loving myself right now, every day in a calorie deficit big enough I'm getting closer to the person that little me would have wanted to grow up into. i don't care what i have to do, i just want to be someone i WANT to be, instead of who i am now. i know maybe that isnt the right reason, and most of me taking care of myself now is partially (if not mostly) born out of self loathing. but i don't have the energy to sit around crying about how meaningless it all is, if im going to die at 30 or 130, i can't afford to waste how little time i do have by letting my own pain stop me. and honestly, if i am gonna kill myself soon, i wanna at least enjoy what little time i got left right? and all of this has culminated into. things being good. im happy, i have energy , im not as preoccupied with the world and i spend about 80 billion hours a day (yes that's math) watching gossip girl, and once i finish gossip girl and my new anime im going to go to either pretty little liars or vampire diaries.

what I'm TRYINF to say is that im okay, and im secure in myself despite being so ,,,,, not .

which leads to the 'im the worst I've ever been', aka my anxiety won't shut the fuck up, i have disordered eating patterns, 45% of my thoughts throughout the day are just about my own death or how the world is going to end and my paranoia is at an all time high, as well as the fact that because im so much more secure in myself I'm a lot more insecure just in other ways, and i sound like a nasty bitch naturally because i have a little more confidence, but at the same time absolutely none and actually LESS than before. I've lost all this weight and yet i feel fatter than when i started. and amber tells me to stop all this ed stuff sometime but genuinely i don't want to nor can i. i hate to say it but the thing that IS keeping me together rn i think is my disordered eating. counting calories kind of is my comfort and THAT im embarrassed about.

maybe im not more secure in myself i just don't feel as strongly about other things because i know i'll be okay as long as im losing weight ,,,

GOD I AM ONE OF THOSE ED BITCHES HUH

idk. it's like im secure in who i am, for the most part - in the sense of what i like, my past actions and how i feel about others and the world around me, just not....... how i look or sound or act or come off to others.

i wish i could disappear in that sense, and that need for anonymity is really driving me to work on myself too i think. forget and be forgotten by the people I've caused trouble for. just move on with my life and be nothing more than a faint memory you can't pinpoint exactly (but it's at the tip of your tongue). if i am just 1 in 8 billion people, and a LOT LOT LOT more people over literally the entirety of existence? i don't even really exist, to be honest. my experience is,,,,, just my experience.

i get that that's literally such a dumb and obvious concept but,,,, it's weird. and emotional for me , to admit my existence is just mine i guess. my life, that i can do whatever i want to cater to my happiness, because i don't have any other one left and im not going to be remembered - why not exploit the shit out of it and stop wasting the only story i can tell myself when i die, whenever that is?

bur at the same time, all of these thoughts fucking terrify me? it's so lonely being a person, even lonelier than it is being a kid. i have to get used to my own head some day, im just lucky enough to be so self centered I like the sound of my own thoughts ...

i don't know... my whole body is screaming at me all the time that something is wrong, im deep into eating disorder and my empathy is still out of wack and even the slightest emotion from anything makes me cry, and i know im still performing in some way but. im performing for myself,,, ykno ? no one else anymore. im really, really tired of performing for everyone i come across, and i think im happy away from those feelings.

i never knew just living for yourself would be okay, but im doing it. even if it's partially out of self hate and fear lmao, im just happy to just exist right where i am, and work on myself.

if im gonna kill myself at 27, i at least should put up a fight right?

when Mitski said :

'I work better under a deadline

I pick an age when I'm gonna disappear

Till then I can try again

Until then I can try again'

i felt that shit so hard. god.

[occupyvenus]

Who do you think LF is talking to when he said "the last best hope against the storm"? Because I think it's not just about the fight against the White Walkers, but also Euron first-and-last-storm Grayjoy, and Daenerys STORMborn.

Hi anon! You are right, isn’t it a funny coincidence that the White Walkers bring the storm, right when Euron, who is the first-and-last-storm teams up with Cersei, while Daenerys Stormborn starts her conquest of westeros? It’s almost as if the word “storm” might has some negative connotations and is associated with a more general atmosphere of doom. (If someone knows of any “storm”-imagery related to Cersei, please tell me.)

As for your question, I have some guesses but that is one of the things I have no clear idea on… You probably expected a short answer, but since “reading too much into things” is one of my most favourite things in the world: Pack some provisions for the road and let’s go, shall we? 

His exact words are: “Your father and brothers are gone, yet here you stand… last best hope against the coming storm.” 

While I agree that he could be simultaniously talking about all possible threats (political or wintery), I do think his little speech will be more specificly about one of them. Which one depends entirely on who he is talking to. 

My candidates for that are one of the starklings or - in a better world, that could have been - Dany. Yes, I have a headcanon that will never manifest itself in the real world (considering the leaks, spoilers, set photos), where that could happen. I will list all of them from least to most likely, while shouting my opinion into the void. 

Last place: Dany | he’s talking about the White Walkers

If there is one thing in the leaks I really believe, it’s that Littlefinger will stay in the north, cause some trouble for the starks and is killed by Arya/Sansa at the end of the season. This won’t happen, but I love this idea so much, I’m going to talk about it anyway.

Why Dany?

Even though I am just as happy as everyone else to see LF go, I also think it’s a bit of a waste to have one of the most capable political players in the series causing some family drama in Winterfell, without really being involved in the “grand political plot” of the season (alliences/rivalry between Team Dragon, Team Iron Throne and Team Stark). I like that Sansa’s creepy fake father will be the stark sisters/siblings common enemy and that bringing him down together will “unite them as starks” - as if that was necessary - and they’ll get some sweet, sweet revenge for their dad, but still.

I think that LF’s first instinct when hearing about Dany landing in Westeros would be to get to Dragonstone asap and scheme and manipulate her to further his own agenda. I just don’t think he would pass up that chance, even if he had to leave Sansa behind. 

Calling on her “grandiosity” by saying she’s the last best hope against some supernatural threat (DESTINY! PROPHECY!), while reminding her that she is the last targaryen would make sense.

I just always liked the idea of it and seeing tyrions desperation about LF worming his way into Danys good graces would be quite entertaining to watch. At least in the show (a bit in the books to) I would have loved Tyrion and Sansa, the “background” political schemers, to team up and take down a threat their respective “foreground” leaders are blind to. Dany, because she lets LF get into her head (she’s new to westerosi “lobbying” and has so many desires a little shit like LF could exploit) and Jon, because “the great war is here. We have more important things to worry about”. 

I would love the political scheming to have a bigger impact on the war of the dawn, because that’s just how humans are (see global warming). You first have to take out the human trash, before taking care of the supernatural one. 

Why not Dany?

One thing that doesn’t quite fit is that “last best hope” sounds a bit … disappointed? Maybe that’s just me but it has this “You aren’t that much, but better than the other shit options we have.” “your father and brothers are gone” … but implying that the mother of dragons isn’t clearly our best chance against the white walker doesn’t really make sense. 

If he had said “only hope” or “the / our best hope or even “the / our last best hope” … it would be feel less ambigious. I know this is such a small, probably meaningless detail but not using an article/pronoun gives me these meeehhh-vibes, somehow.

Well, they won’t meet on the show with a 99% certainty. So last place for Dany. 

Third place: Arya | he’s talking about politics (mostly)

Why Arya? LF will (unsuccesfully) attempt to drive a wedge between the stark sisters. Pretending that he’s the one working in the starks best interest, whereas Sansa’s loyalty can’t really be trusted will definitely be part of his scheme. (But I don’t buy into those stupid “letter to robb from s1″ leak. Stupid letter is stupid.) In this scenario he would “warn her of southern threats and influences” embodied by sansa, since this would clearly be an attempt to emphasize Arya’s “starkness”.  

Omitting Jon as one of her “brothers” could mean three things: “gone” doesn’t mean dead, but simply “not in winterfell right now”, he’s a bastard and not her true “brother” OR R+L=J WAS ALREADY REVEALED.

Why not Arya? This would only work if Bran and Jon both aren’t around yet/anymore and I’d say it’s pretty unlikely anyway. I just wanted to include it for the sake of completeness. Third place for Arya.

Second place: Bran | he’s talking about both (mostly politics)

Why Bran ?  LF is trying to manipulate the “young lord stark” into turning against his bastard brother who’s threateting to steal his birthright. Omitting Jon as one of his “brothers” is something LF would do out of spite, but maybe ~ just maybe ~ it could hint at Jon’s true parentage as well. 

He could try to pull another “Robin Arryn”, and try to get into a vulnerable, young boys (teenagers?) head. I really think that getting Jon out of the picture - completely - is LF’s main priority in Winterfell right now. 

Bran might actually be the rightful ruler of the north (despite your opinion on the matter), but eliminating him would be way easier if he didn’t have an older (half)brother around to watch over him. At least in LF’s mind, Bran is nothing but a child, who knows nothing about ruling and can’t walk anymore. Getting Bran on his side would make it pretty easy to get rid off Jon. After that desposing of a crippled boy shouldn’t be to hard and Sansa & Winterfell are ready for the taking. 

Why not Bran?Well, Bran isn’t really “standing” anymore. This could just be a very mean jest (saying that to Bran would be very much intentional). If Littlefinger had said “yet, here you are” Bran would be sharing first place with sansa, but instead he’s sharing second place with Jon. 

Second place: Jon | he’s talking about the White Walkers

Why Jon? He is trying to manipulate him into doing some dumb shit (like going on a stupid wight hunt, for example). LF wants jon gone. He needs jon gone. Pretending to be on his side would be a smart move. 

Why not Jon?Littlefinger would never ever call Robb, Bran and Rickon Jon’s brothers without making it sound like “brothers (but not really, because you’re a bastard)”. As I said above he could be trying to kiss jon’s ass, but I honestly think that’s rather unlikely. I don’t think his ego would allow him to be so nice to the man who snatched “his sansa” away right from under his nose. But I could be very wrong about this, so second place for Jon. 

First place: Sansa | he’s talking about the political threats

Why Sansa? Well, when has Littlefinger not tried to manipulate Sansa? His reasoning for saying this to Sansa is the old “you, my love, are the future of house stark” . Those two statemens feel so similar, it could just be more of the same old.  

Until proven wrong I am going to assume LF thinks the White Walkers are complete bullshit. He will try to convince sansa that jon is wasting his energy on the wrong threat and take the “look at our idiot king worrying about fairy tales, when all this real shit is going down in the south. you have to stand up and take care of the real problems, or the north is doomed” approach. 

What doesn’t sit quite well with me is that he simply says “brothers”. His previous interactions with sansa make me believe he wouldn’t miss an oppurtunity to openly throw some shade at jon’s bastard-y. 

If “gone” only implies that all her “male relatives” aren’t in winterfell anymore, he would say “your father, brother, even your half-brother are gone …” or something like it. If “gone” means gone, as in dead, he would have said “father and true brothers”. I can’t quite put my finger on why, but compared to arya and bran, he would emphazise jon being their half-brother more directly when talking to Sansa. It’s just a gut-feeling I have. I might be wrong about this, since we only get this one, out of context sentence . The next thing sansa says could very well be “jon is ..” and LF finishing her sentence “… your half-brother. A bastard, not a true stark.” Omitting Jon could be a set-up for such a conversation.

OR: They know about R+L=J - can we have that, pretty please? The sentiment behind it would actually be the same, Jon isn’t a true stark and he “stole” sansas birthright.

(Some fandom wank on the side: Can you believe that some people give sansa so much shit for ~ maybe ~ being a tiny bit frustrated about being looked over as heir to winterfell, while simultaniously cheering for a certain dragon queen “to take what is hers with fire and blood, because she was born to rule the seven k-doms” Fucking hypocrites.)

Why not Sansa? It would be a bit too obvious, maybe? I honestly can’t think of  a single reason that would feel out of place, so first place for sansa. 

[ex-247jaejoong]

⌞routine⌝

5am

The alarm blasted through the room, and Jaejoong let out a groan. He reached, turned off the clock, and immediately sat up. Taking an extra ten minutes was for the lazy, so he quickly shoved off his blankets and headed to his bathroom. It was still another hour before the rest of the family would rise, but he always got his shower out of the way before the youngest sister would come begging for his attention.

The shower was hot, but when the water began to lull him into relaxation, he jerked the knob so that ice pelted his skin. That always successfully woke him up. He’d timed his morning routine to be exactly twenty minutes, from waking to being dressed for the day.

There were still forty minutes until the rest of the house would wake. But that gave him a chance to study over a few more chapters, to re-check the work he’d spend hours on the night before. It had to be perfect.

6am

He was down in the kitchen as the rest of the alarms rang out, as the nannies took to shaking his sisters awake for the day. The coffee was already brewed, and the breakfast was already laid out by one of the nannies. He sat at the table, stirred a single spoonful of sugar into his mug.

His mother was always the first person down, and she blew him an air kiss as she grabbed her own coffee. “Darling, I’d love to have breakfast with you all, but I’m feeling inspired. You’ll make sure they’re all tended to?” she asked, just as she did every morning.

“Of course. Good luck,” he wished her, just before she turned to go.

His sisters came to join him one by one. Some still half asleep, others bouncing with energy. The youngest was still small, and she came to immediately reach for a hug. Though she had nannies, she always came to him for her problems and for comfort. He quickly scooped her onto his lap and kissed her plump cheek.

He was somewhere in the middle of the children in terms of age, but as the only son his parents seemed to rely on him for some of the responsibility. There were three older sisters, but they were all out of the house now, and he was the oldest left around.

After breakfast, the nannies came to herd the younger ones off to get dressed for the day. The older girls wandered off on their own. He was the one to make sure that they were all out of the house by exactly 7.

School, morning

Jaejoong was structured, and his day in school was no different. He always arrived within twenty minutes of leaving his home - running late made him sweat. And he headed straight for his locker to slip away the books he wouldn’t need until the afternoon. Even his locker was kept in a strict order, everything lined up just so.

He greeted a couple of friends briefly, and they joked around for a few minutes. It was meaningless, and most of their idle chatter was a waste of time, but he liked them and it was always better to have people around who liked him than to be completely alone. Even though part of him knew he’d function just as well without friends.

Five minutes before class, he parted ways with a final laugh, and went to his homeroom. In class, he was not really apt to joking around, he was focused on the material and being the best. Teachers loved him, and yet some of them resented that he always had the answers. That wasn’t to say he didn’t offer faint smirks when other people did something dumb - or caused a ripple of laughter through the room. But he was focused, everything he did was to be the best.

School, lunch.

When the bell rang for lunch, he walked to his locker once again, slipping his morning books inside in their designated spaces. At the end of lunch he would retrieve the afternoon’s. His friends expected him - or maybe his latest girlfriend was, he didn’t remember - but he had something to do first.

He waited until the hallways were quiet, and then he made his way to the principal’s office. He was expected. The secretary smiled, and he easily returned it with a quick mention that he just needed a brief moment of the principal’s time. He had to wait for another couple of minutes while he finished with someone’s discipline, and Jaejoong’s gaze connected with the boy as he shuffled off. It was brief, and he paid little mind.

“Jaejoong,” the man greeted, giving the head nod he always did when he invited a student inside.

He wasn’t apt to waste more time than was necessary, so he didn’t bother with many formalities, aside from a quick, “Good afternoon.” But they were past a point of formality. He no longer had to make a good impression, he’d already proven himself. “You wanted to know who pulled the prank on the school nurse, didn’t you? I have your answer.”

With a frown, the man simply nodded. And in under a minute he had given the name of the perpetrator. It didn’t matter to him, they meant nothing to him.

He was able to leave the principal’s office and meet with his friends in under five minutes total. They didn’t know, but they’d stopped questioning.

School, afternoon.

As he went to grab his things, he felt the weight of exhaustion falling on his shoulders. He never got enough sleep, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually gotten more than five hours in a given night. But it was worth it, if he came out on top.

On his way to math, he caught sight of a familiar head of hair, her head bent down toward her phone. A faint smile slipped to his lips, and he stepped over so that he would be directly in her path. Sure enough, suddenly she bumped right into him, a look of surprise coming to her face before she glanced up. However, on seeing her brother, she rolled her eyes. “Idiot,” she grumbled, but there wasn’t much venom in her insult.

He laughed quietly. “Look where you’re going,” he joked, tapping his sister’s nose affectionately. With as many siblings as there were, it was natural that a few of them were in the same school. And he always tried to protect her from the people he knew were around.

She stuck her tongue out at him before stepping around and walking off. He shook his head, and carried onto class.

After school.

By the time he was finished with classes, he was ready for a nap. He looked on with mild envy as a lot of students rushed to leave for home or to hang out with friends. He had too many activities, it was rare for him to leave when there was still light out.

He headed for the locker room, greeting a few familiar faces easily before he went to change for track practice. Sometimes it felt like the only moment he had in a day to clear his head, when he ran. So although he wanted to blow it off and relax for once, he knew he never would.

Afterword, he was covered in sweat and his lungs burned, but he felt lighter. He felt more awake, and it was enough to keep him going for the rest of the night - or so he hoped. He still had too much work to sleep early. After a quick shower in the locker room, he made his way to exit the school.

Partly, he hated spring simply because of track, given that the hours were so long. He’d be at practice for up to three or four hours. Running miles, doing hurdles, being ran through drills. The other times of the year, he focused on clubs and other after school activities, but in spring his life was devoted to track.

6pm

He walked into the house with a loud sigh, toeing off his shoes and glancing around for his sisters. He could faintly hear them throughout the house, and he wondered if they’d already eaten. The nannies handled all of that, but they didn’t have a set time for meals. As he wandered into the kitchen, he was met with the sight of them washing up the dishes. “Hey,” he greeted the handful of people.

The nanny smiled at him warmly. “The girls already all had dinner. I made you a plate in the fridge, though,” she said.

He nodded, but didn’t say more, and went to find the youngest of them. The cluster of tiniest sisters were all playing in the family room, with another nanny keeping watch over them with their dolls. Jaejoong stepped over to them and kissed each of their cheeks before he went to reheat dinner.

As he waited for the microwave to finish, he checked his phone, seeing texts from his girlfriend of the moment and some of his friends, all asking him to do something or another. He didn’t have time for any of them. He didn’t even have the energy to text them back and tell them that he was busy.

He ate alone, though one girl came and looked slightly guilty, he waved her off with a smile. So instead he went and took his meal up to his room so he could work. It was easier that way, and he could focus.

Of course, it was never without distractions. And an endless stream of visitors telling him about their day or just wanting to chat. And he didn’t have the heart to tell them to go away. Not for his sisters. Anyone else, he wouldn’t have even entertained the thought.

9pm

Not even half of his work was completed, and yet when the youngest nanny popped into his doorway, he still only glanced expectantly at her.

“You know she won’t go to sleep if you don’t say goodnight,” she said with a smile.

Jaejoong glanced at the clock. “Isn’t it past her bedtime?”

“I’ve been trying,” she shrugged.

He nodded, and stood up from his desk to go say goodnight to whoever was still awake. He started with the youngest and tucked her in, kissing her forehead and telling her that she needed to get to sleep. She giggled and yawned, and he knew she’d be asleep soon. A few more of the younger ones were awake, and he managed to kiss them goodnight as well. The older ones he didn’t bother, they’d always push him away anyhow.

1am

After some tedious hours, his work was completed. He was nothing if not thorough, and even if it meant he would hardly be sleeping, it was worth it for the marks he’d receive. He padded downstairs to get a glass of water, when the front door finally opened to reveal his parents. They’d gone out sometime earlier in the evening, before he’d gotten home.

They were laughing, and he could immediately tell that they were drunk. He glanced toward them, but didn’t bother saying anything.

“Oh, hi, darling!” His mother greeted, surprised to see him.

But he supposed she would be. He could probably count the minutes he’d spent with her in the past week on one hand. “Welcome home,” he greeted them both quietly.

His dad smiled, a little lopsided. “Aren’t you? What time is it?” he asked, voice too loud for the time of night.

“After midnight,” he shrugged slightly. “Everyone else is asleep.”

His parents exchanged a look, his mother shrugged. “Oh. Shouldn’t you be?”

He gave a curt nod. “Yeah, I was on my way back to bed.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, he could hear them return to giggling together. Most of the time he wondered why they’d even bothered having so many children given that they never paid any of them more than a few minutes of attention. But he didn’t let it bother him, nothing they did bothered him anymore.

He slipped into his room and made sure everything was tidied up and put away. He brushed his teeth and washed his face. By the time he was ready to sleep, it was already almost 2. He wasn’t ready to face it all over again.

[beyourself-loveyourlife]

Tuesday irrational thoughts

I feel like the fucking stupidest shit there ever is and ever will be is figuring out that life is a game. And once you realize how sick and twisted the game is and how and why the game was created you can’t unknow it. Once you figure out how completely useless most of the things you spend so much time learning about or trying to do it is just laughable. Like it is a complete shock to realize that everything you’ve worked for was made up by a system that measures you intelligence by their standards. And if you don’t fit that then we’ll that’s to bad, you’re not smart enough.

A system is telling you you are dumb. You aren’t enough. Because you don’t fit that standard. But like the only way to live is to play the game. You have to play the game to live or survive. You have to do a shit load of meaningless things just in order to even have the opportunity to do things that have all the meaning. You have to fake your way through life to come out to find what’s actually real. And then to realize how sick humans are for covering all that up, for being so selfish, and for allowing so much pain just for the sake of power. And it makes me sick. The only way to beat the game is to play the game in the end. And even if you figure it out you still discover that there’s no way around it. You have no choice. There is no other way. You are trapped in this life that wastes so much energy, wastes so much time on so many things that hold no weigh-have no meaning- and have no logic.

The amount of physics I need to know to practice and be a physical therapist I already know. Let me repeat that. The amount of physics I need to know to be a practicing physical therapist I have already learned. Yet I have to take a whole 2 semesters of physics to apply for school. Again, I know everything I need to know about physics to do my job and yet I have to waste money, time, and my sanity in order to meet a standard that isn’t even logical in the first place. I have to play along in order to show that my intelligence is higher than yours in order to be a caregiver. I have to have higher standardized test scores in order to show that I’m a genius in order to rehabilitate your knee/shoulder/hip after surgery. I have to have the best refernece letters from the most well known or highly respected people in the field to show that I’m privileged enough to know the right people, to be at the right place at the right time, to have been born in the right family(in the right environment, in the right time period, in the right space) to prove that I’m worthy enough to go to your prestigious university to learn how to fix patients bodies, minds, and souls. I have to have the most elligent words written in an essay format with a story that catches your eye explaining why I think the experiences in my life made me the best candidate to become a physical therapist. I have to have the most eye catching reason as to why I want to devote my life to being a physical therapist. And it better not be what every one else says, and it better not be for the money, and it better not be boring.

None of it is logical. None of it makes sense. Why am I chasing after the most illogical, most irrational, most fictitious thing. I want to add value to the people I come across. I want to help people realize that because their bodies may be broken that their souls don’t have to be too. And most of the time I can fix your body with my knowledge if you can fix your mind.

After all that I still only just want to help. After realizing how stupid the game we all play is, I still refuse to play the game to the cold end. I’ll play just as long as I have to in order to find the loop holes. Once I get to where I need to be, I’m done playing. And maybe then I can start actually living. If I make it that far.

In order to beat the game you have to play the game. In the cynical world that we live in, we have to play into it, in order to make it out. We have to out play, out smart, and out think the people around us. That’s real intelligence right there. So eat on that. 

[spiritual-doctor4u]

VIBRANT HEALTH FOR THE LUCKY FEW

SPECTRUM OF HEALTH

This is a very crucial cross road from where you have two choices : to go down or to go up. Most of us are on the middle rung of the ladder of Health, that being APPARENT HEALTH - We think we are healthy enough, but realistically we are not. Mere absence of disease is not good health.

The cause lies in our unawareness of wasteful & neutral thought patterns & habits arising from seeds of hurt, anxiety, worry, fickle, faithless, & inhibited.  

Our unconscious choice of seeds & eventual thought patterns lead us downwards one rung to MARGINAL HEALTH - The cause of this stage is negative thinking arising out from seeds of lust, inferior. defective, ugly, victim, loser & crushed.

The lowest rung of the ladder is Ill health. This is a serious matter but the cause is very much in our control if we choose to do so. It is the perpetual pattern of Toxic thoughts arising from the seeds of Ego, jealousy, pride, greed, selfish, rude, cheating & CONTROLLING THE SPOUSES, CHILDREN, WHOLE WORLD. It is a sure highway to INSANITY - Go figure.    

The other path that takes you up on the ladder of Health is that of discipline & self control. One rung up takes you to OPTIMUM HEALTH - people in this category are very much conscious of their physical bodies & wish to stay in perfect shape most of their lives. Actors, singers, musicians, athletes, fall in this category of mania for good physique. They earn millions through the display of their bodies & skills. They also spend at least 2 hours everyday in the gym, rain or shine & eat frugally exercising total discipline in all aspects of their living. They have Positive thinking patterns, which grows from the seeds of contentment, helpful, love-full, aware, easy, quiet & happy.

Finally the top most rung is that of VIBRANT HEALTH - This is attained by a select few who venture very hard in the field of Elevated thoughts, regular meditation, & Raja yoga. Saints, yogis, toddler children, fall in this beautiful category. The basis of such perfect health are the seeds of Peace, affection, kindness, giving, generous, honesty, & soul consciousness.  

 HELPFUL MANTRAS FOR VIBRANT HEALTH

FOR YOUR MENTAL HEALTH'S SAKE - Eliminate all internal mindful conflicts by being totally transparent, 24\7. No secrets, no lies, no hiding, no double standards. Beware of the  brewing bitterness inside & faking politeness outside. Pay attention to constant negativity & rejection towards the other soul while displaying superficial acceptance when in public.  

ALTERNATIVE : IMPAIRMENT, BLINDNESS & EVENTUALLY HOSPITALIZATION.

FOR YOUR SPIRITUAL HEALTH'S SAKE - Earn an income of Blessings from the spouses family members by giving up Egoistic attitudes, trying to control everyone, suppressing others to cover up your Low Self Confidence. Make a Herculean effort to  maintain  harmonious relations for your peace of mind.

ALTERNATIVE : IMPOTENCE, LONELINESS & DEPRESSION.

FOR YOUR CHILDREN'S SAKE - Be exemplary Role Models 24\7. Definitely God is not watching us, therefore HE planted children around us. These copy cats are imbibing it all; your voice tone, mannerisms, gait, intentions, out bursts of anger & foul language. They pick up, so called GENES, through vibrations emitted, & behavior displayed by you.

ALTERNATIVE : KEEP THEM AWAY FROM YOUR BAD INFLUENCE IN BOARDING SCHOOLS AT HIGH COSTS.

FOR GODS SAKE - Transform yourself first & subsequently influence others around you peacefully & silently. They are known friendly souls, who had to come back to settle their Karmic debts with you, therefore understand this & cooperate faithfully for your own personal benefit.

  ALTERNATIVE : CARRY FORWARD HEAVIER KARMIC BAGGAGE.

FOR YOUR PHYSICAL HEALTH'S SAKE - Keep the home cooks satisfied, contented & Joyful at all times to avoid consuming toxic food spiked with hate, resentment, disgust, sorrow & curses, served to you & prepared by them. All they have is your downfall & destruction on their minds, if their well being is not taken care of.

ALTERNATIVE : COOK YOUR OWN FOOD & EAT IT ALONE.

                           BIOLOGICALLY SPEAKING

ENDLESS BACTERIAL RELAY RACE

Our human bodies are made up of hundreds of different types of cells: liver cells, brain cells, heart cells, bone cells, skin cells. In every organ at any point of time millions of cells are dying and the exact same number of new cells is being born, anew. In other words, our body resembles a graveyard, or a battlefield to be more precise. This implies that there is an extreme urgency, to get rid of the dead cells, quickly or else they will decay and become toxic, like the dead bodies in a battle field. Thus there exists a very fine balance which has to be maintained in every category, of our organs. What does this explain?  It goes to show that, in a very short period the whole organ is replaced by brand new cells, and this is an on going process 24/7, for as long as you live. Therefore, the physical body has NO EXPIRY date.

IS YOUR BODY OLD OR NEW

The anatomical structure is so wonderful, that it resembles a miracle in action. Let me ask you a dumb question at this stage. How old is your body? Mind you, I am not asking your age. It is, believe me, very young, brand new.  If the body, your hardware, is brand new, then what constitutes your age.  It is your soft ware, memory, education, thinking patterns, beliefs, convictions, and superstitions, brought forward of course. The outer covers are old and ancient while the inner core is always brand new.

PRETTY SKILLFUL AT BIRTH

Can you imagine how skillful and resourceful you are even at birth, from day one? The things we can do from the womb: suck, swallow, sneeze, stretch, salivate, hiccup, yawn, blink, cry and grip, which is strong enough to support your own weight. There are numerous miracles happening, inside our bodies all the time: breathing, digesting, dilating pupils, adjusting lumen, altering blood pressure, maintaining temperature, sorting out nourishing elements from the air, growing new cells, balancing hormones, repairing, purifying toxins, and remaining alive during sleep or worried situations.  

MIND IS INVISIBLE STUFF

Now, we come to the million dollar question? Where is the Brain?  O K you got this one right. The brain is in the head or the skull. Next question! Where is the MIND? Where is memory? Where is your Past, which you never seem to forget? The MIND is located out side the physical body, all around you. We need huge area to store up 90 years of stupid experiences. Hence our software is located outside our bodies.

Here in the outer layers, your beliefs, notions, and superstitions that you inherited from your ancestors are embedded. You inherit the total package of emotions, attitudes, mannerism, habits, from your parents. You pick up all, by virtue of being with them, day in and day out. You internalize everything automatically. I call this total package as “genes”. I will qualify it further as “emotionally enveloped genes”. They are the invisible part of our bodies and they are the cause of all our diseases and sickness by default, or good health, sometimes.  We definitely, need to rewrite the Gray’s Anatomy.                                    

FROM THOUGHTS TO DESTINY

Everything has a CAUSE, a starting point, so does sickness, illness, and disease. The starting point with humans is thoughts, feelings, emotions, and attitudes. A simple solution is to close your eyes, in meditation as often as possible.

External stimuli or events in real life trigger off basic thoughts of fears and doubts, which evolve into feelings. These feelings can be positive or negative: Feelings of insecurity, no self worth, and being unloved.  

In time, feelings are experienced as emotions of joy or hate.  Hurt, sorrow, and even grief are the bad ones. Next, these emotions cause in time, our reactions and behavior to graduate one notch up. Behavior can be constructive or destructive: Shouting, blaming others, withdrawing, taking all things personally are examples of destructive behavior. Our behaviors lead to moods & attitudes as time progresses.

Attitudes again can be good or bad.  Masking, hiding, being shameful, compulsions, and addictions are the bad ones. Finally, moods precipitate as stress resistance. We refuse to change ourselves for better. This is our destiny in the making – our own doing. We are the creators of our Destiny starting with Thoughts & progressing gradually to feelings, emotions, behaviors, moods, & attitudes. We are also true escapists and put the blame on God for deciding our destiny.

PLAYFUL / NAUGHTY  HORMONES  - BEWARE

Instead, we get busy changing others, controlling others, escaping anyhow, postponing, by absorbing ourselves into meaningless activities. Fearful of transformation, we refuse to change ourselves. We harbor these negative emotions, all the time, if not most of the time. These emotions are triggering off hormones in our bodies. They stimulate the Hypothalamus and Pituitary glands to secrete hormones in the high doses that are dependent upon the kind of emotions we harbor. We have excess of 3000 very complex chemicals in our bodies which must be kept in a very fine balance, 24/7.

Joyful, calm, lovable emotions trigger off hormones in just the right quantities, no more, any less. Just the optimal quantity!  On the other hand hateful, angry, grief ridden emotions, trigger off hormones in excess quantities, into the body. These hormones are no less than steroids and very powerful chemicals. They cause havoc and upset the delicate balance at cellular level. These steroids like hormones act upon the foods, we eat or import into our bodies. Foods are converted into energy which is required by our ever active bodies. The imbalance happens, when we have excess of wrong type of steroids and surplus of the wrong kind of foods. These foods can not be metabolized effectively and they end up in our blood stream making it almost fatal.    

Rohit Khanna - IN-FORMED

[trendingnewsb]

5 Stupid Things We Need To Stop Clicking On

We are living through the final gasps of the Information Age. Experts estimate that 62 percent of all information we now receive is deliberately false, and that includes the percentage and experts I made up at the start of this sentence. The sad truth is, most of you will never have the critical thinking or research skills to know what’s real, and that will only make you more sure about the wrong things your stupid ass believes. The good news is that this article isn’t about that shit. The fake news fight is over, and stupid won. No, this article is about the dumb things we all keep falling for — even you, the genius who chose the right political side and religion.

5

Pointlessly Insane Products Are Not That At All

Last year, Tiffany & Co. started selling the Sterling Silver Tin Can, an empty can that costs $1,000. You’ll notice that this is far more than you’d normally pay for soupless garbage. To be clear, this wasn’t some tin can that once held Prince’s final green beans. It’s only a can. As an artistic statement, it was 50 years stale, and as a money-making scheme, it was somewhere between a portable diarrhea box and that same product without a lid. It’s the kind of idea that would make the other Saved By The Bell writers say, “Look, if you’re not ready to come back to work, take more time off to deal with the death of your son.” The point I’m making is that it’s hard not to comment on Tiffany’s silly can, and that’s more appealing to Tiffany & Co. than when we comment on how the people who mined their products all died of slavery.

“Darling, I was part of many souls transcending penetration to transform a utilitarian men’s room into an installment of signature Tiffany oeuvre.” — this Tiffany copywriter explaining to his wife why there are seven colors of pubic hair in his underpants

Read Next

8 Baffling Poop-Themed Toys Kids Are Lining Up To Buy

And it’s not only tin cans and Wu-Tang albums that are marketed in intentionally strange ways. Food advertisers have figured out that they can get more attention by being ridiculous than by being delicious. Remember when KFC used fried chicken as sandwich bread in the Double Down? Or when Chick-Fil-A announced that their fried chicken hated gay people with the Cajun Titty Jiggler? We all made fun of them, but they absolutely did not care. These are people turning pigeon meat and “deported” foreign nationals into nugget shapes. They’ll take any press they can get.

We need to stop doing this. It’s very possible the only conversation any of us had or will ever have about Dr. Pepper came when they released a special version of their soda for men only. We all went on Twitter to say things like, “Forbidding women from tasting Dr. Pepper Ten will only delay the discovery that it’s made from semen, not stop it completely.” We asked questions like, “Why would you make a soda for men only? Are you trying to find the perfect drink to pair with losing custody of your kids?” Or maybe you simply speculated, “Dr. Pepper Ten sounds like the refreshing treat you reach for when defending an accused rapist you haven’t met.”

SORRY LADIES, OUR CREATIVE DIRECTOR IS STILL DEALING WITH SOME CHILDHOOD TRAUMA INVOLVING PENISES.

Products should make the customer happy, not be so deliberately dumb that the customer hears about them during a Jimmy Kimmel monologue. You shouldn’t make every tenth new Oreo out of cat suppository in the desperate hope that cookie influencers tweet about it. And pizza, you especially need to get your shit together.

In 2012, a Pizza Hut employee happened upon the idea of a hot-dog-stuffed crust, quite by accident, when his manager caught him fucking a pizza and demanded an explanation. This marked the last time there would ever be a non-insane pizza invention. Today, pizza marketing is a series of deranged innovations, like a serial killer’s journey toward becoming the Minotaur. For instance, Pizza Hut created “smart” shoes that place an order for you. Aside from getting the elderly to wonder what they’re going to come up with next, what the fuck good do pizza shoes do anyone? If you have a use for ordering Pizza Hut via shoe, your foot is going to fall off from diabetes long before you get to do it a second time.

And did you know that Domino’s spent millions of dollars promoting something called “carryout insurance?” It’s what it sounds like — a financial guarantee that when your sloppy ass drops a pizza, they give you another one. Aside from getting us to mention how dumb that is, what’s the point? Was there a community of fat idiots eating pizza off the ground and demanding their representatives do something? Let’s say it’s just to set your mind at ease. Let’s pretend you’re thinking about ordering Domino’s, but decide against it because you’re always dropping pizza. Will this convince you? Of course not. You’re not even here. You were taken in the night by mad scientists, and now you’re a lump of brain tissue labelled “HISTORY’S SADDEST FUCK.”

“CARRYOUT INSURANCE!? Hey, boss? Yeah, I just found a loophole that gives me unlimited floor pizza. So what I’m saying is you can kiss my ass.“

4

All Things “Of The Year” Are Arbitrary Decisions Made By Small Teams Of Random Assholes

We are living in the darkest of times. Our current sexiest man alive looks like a rectangle who makes its living hustling milk-drinking contests.

“I’m digesting four gallons of Half & Half. Hi, I’m Blake Shelton, your sexiest man alive.”

When People magazine announced hoedown music standout Blake Shelton as the sexiest man alive while Casper Van Dien was still not dead, it hit like a bomb. Every Twitter account and Safeway express lane had a hot take on it. It wasn’t merely controversial; it was a direct challenge to what vaginal lubrication even meant. What will it do to society if passably handsome NASCAR dads are the new standard of sexy? Do we need to stop doing sit-ups? Will there be enough denim?

What will Casper Van Dien do with this boner?

You know what we should have been doing that whole time? Not giving a shit about how handsome Blake Shelton is. Don’t get me wrong, Blake Shelton is alright. His condoms probably don’t expire, and if he was arrested for sodomizing a dairy cow, you’d think “Him?” But let’s not play games. He’s not the sexiest man alive. At best, he’s “Oklahoma’s Hottest Mostly Ham DNA.” But we should remember that this isn’t some great honor decided by measuring the gonad stimulation of test subjects. “Sexiest Man Alive” is picked by four or five editors desperately trying to hang onto print media jobs, and every now and then one of them is smart enough to say, “What if we trolled everyone?” With all respect to Blake Shelton’s fuckability, if you died trying to teach a prosthetic arm how to give a handjob, the People staff would write your name up on the “Sexiest Man Alive MAYBES” board.

It’s important to keep in mind how meaningless these titles are before we get outraged. Before Donald Trump, Time gave its 2006 “Person of the Year” title to You, as in the second-person pronoun. And in 1938 they gave it to Hitler, the Donald Trump of 1938. These are meaningless choices meant to inspire terrible conversations between uninteresting people. Did you think LaTonya from Fayetteville was chosen as Jet ‘s “Beauty of the Week” because of her winning tits and smile? Wake up. It’s because her face tattoo says “Abortion is Bae.” Please, all of us, we have to stop getting outsmarted by the Jet magazines of the world.

3

It’s Not An Event When Fictional Characters Die

In 1992, DC Comics killed Superman — an invincible ventriloquist with laser eyes, frost breath, and chronosphere-bending flight speed — with a rock monster who was pretty good at punching. Despite it being the third time he had died, the country went into mourning and the story was picked up by the actual news. Which was weird, because if the media wanted to cover upsetting Superman stories, where were they when his girlfriend got turned into a pony and fucked his horse?

I think about this every day. Every day.

Why are we so obsessed with fictional deaths? Most of the time, they’re not even real in the make-believe universe in which they happen. Captain America and Batman die around 20 times a year, each in different combinations of fake-outs, resurrections, and universe reboots. If a dead guy’s best friends own a time machine and the Eye of Agamotto, you can probably hold off on making funeral plans. And if your favorite character dies on The Walking Dead, maybe don’t waste an hour watching Chris Hardwick cry until you see the body.

It should help you relax knowing that most fictional deaths are only abusive pranks, but the “real” ones are about as meaningless.

I mean, you knew there wasn’t going to be any more Firefly. This death cost us maybe two wisecracks.

Remember when Han Solo died? He was a 73-year-old laser gun fighter scheduled to get his own movie in three years. His death was both long overdue and completely inconsequential to the amount of Han Solo you will continue to see on your TV. His father-in-law, Darth Vader, was on screen for about 36 minutes before he died in 1983, and since his death, there have been more Anakin Skywalker stories than anyone could ever want. Anakin Skywalker is the Nicolas Cage of outer space. He stopped making good movies three decades ago, yet he’s still everywhere and radiating inexplicable cosmic energy.

If George R. R. Martin went on TV to announce that a meteor hit Westeros between books and everyone in A Song Of Ice And Fire is gone, how is that different from the world you’re living in now? The guy has clearly wanted to focus more on snacks for about four books. You know what’s sadder than seeing Ned Stark get his head chopped off? Watching some fragile-hearted slob go through the stages of grief in a YouTube video afterwards. Parents, if your child is filming themselves weep over a make-believe death, that’s a bigger failure than if your child is filming themselves pee into a tube sock for Patreon supporters. I mean, you can do whatever you want, but when you cry over fake people whom you can still see every day for as long as you want, you’re only sending a message to the people around you that you’re a dramatic piece of shit. But I know something that will cheer you up!

2

Being Special Is Free

That’s right, I said it.

You’re welcome.

It’s pretty easy to sell someone nothing more than the idea that they’re special or important for actual money. For example, somewhere right now, a Todd is looking through a rack of keychains to see if they have one with his name on it. “I hope they have a Todd,” he might announce as he thumbs through dusty garbage. “They do! And it’s spelled right!” So Todd will buy it, a cute reminder of the worst store in the least interesting part of a city he once visited, and it will never occur to him that an Indonesian factory gambled and won that a completely shitty Todd would one day pay money to remind himself of his own name. This next part is way off-topic, but not even the Indonesians could have foreseen that this keychain would one day be used to frame Todd …

… for Toddslaughter.

Back to the point I was trying to make: We are all susceptible to this crap. Coke had its first sales increase in more than a decade when it introduced the idea of adding the customers’ stupid fucking names to their cans and bottles. And the internet has been haunted by ego-stroking personality quizzes and IQ tests since before we used it to pay girls peeing into tube socks. We are so desperate to be told we’re special that we will suspend all disbelief and critical thinking to hear it. You should know that answering a few simple personality questions does not make you the coolest ninja turtle, and you shouldn’t trust the scores of an IQ test that you watched yourself cheat on which also advertises free Slavic women and four new pounds of dick girth.

One of my favorite examples of this, and favorite things in general, is an online community called Intertel — “An International Society of the Intellectually Gifted.” It’s very difficult to get in. You can only join if you score in the top 1 percent of any self-administered intelligence test and mail in a $10 application fee. You may have considered that this in fact checks to see whether you’re stupid enough to mail in a test with a 98 percent score or less and nothing else. If you get accepted, you then pay a $39 annual fee to be a part of a genius club for people who are very specifically not. What do you get? I’m so glad you asked. For the annual fee, you get unlimited pity and the right to post a photo and bio about your unusually gullible self. It has created an avalanche of unearned ego that looks like a late ’90s Casper Van Dien fan page whose webmaster went mysteriously missing.

Image courtesy of the estate of the Casper Van Dien Fan Page & Genius Community webmaster.

OK, no, but seriously, this next image is a real screenshot from the Inertel (An International Society of the Intellectually Gifted) website. This is a real person who really thinks he’s in the 1 percent of intellectual elites, and this is his real profile.

I didn’t doctor this. This is what an actual genius named BigJim369 pays $39 a year to display. Fuck! This world is magic and you get to live in it!

Another business that exploits your love of yourself on a massive, sprawling scale is the pop-up museum industry. The name implies that there are things to do or learn inside them, but they’re more like oversized photo booths than art galleries. For instance, if you take a trip to the zany, world-famous Museum of Ice Cream, you will learn zero to one things about ice cream and eat ice cream worth $45 less than the entry ticket. What you will do is wait in line to take photos of yourself next to what you’d describe in any other context as “nothing of interest.” So to be clear, we are so self-obsessed that it’s now an effective business model to charge us money to take pictures of ourselves so we can promote you online.

You didn’t fool ME, Museum of Ice Cream. But my family loved it. Five stars.

1

Stop Making It Seem Like There Are Nazis

OK, so the world has enough idiot racists to elect Donald Trump president, but not all of those voters were full white supremacists. Some of them were simply too religious to know when someone is lying or too old to change their mind about politics. And yes, a troubling number of them were Nazis. But in a lot of ways, most things are fine and the world isn’t as awful as you think.

You’re welcome again.

Impossibly shitty people, like the Trump supporters who took that Garfield mug personally, seem like they’re everywhere. A lot of that is our fault — the decent people making fun of them. They use us to amplify their voices, like Han Solo (R.I.P.) convincing a hallway of Stormtroopers that he’s way more people than he actually is. Every few minutes, a website publishes a variation on the article “These Miserable Fucks Said Something Racist About A Thing And Got Annihilated By Twitter.” They’re fun and vaguely heroic, but if you read more than one, you’ll start to see that they all share the same content. It’s the same three or four racist tweets quoted in every article, tweeted by the same three or four racists who “attacked” the Star Wars with the Asian girl and “staged boycotts” of the all-lady Ghostbusters. We need to stop treating these three or four people like they’re a threat to anything other than skewing PornHub’s algorithm to favor mother-son incest.

BREAKING NEWS: Local high school’s least-likable prick still making quite a spectacle out his irrelevant awfulness.

Here’s a reassuring fact: A study of Reddit found that 1 percent of communities were responsible for 74 percent of all conflict. We are taking the intentionally ignorant comments of a Kia’s worth of debate club hobbyists and pretending they’re a tidal wave of hate we must stand together against. The “alt-right” movement is 30 boys too cranky to date and too slow to learn Dungeons & Dragons. Their supporters are a toxic group of gamers who will disappear once they turn 17, and their media outlet is a cable network whose entire audience will be dead in two more flu seasons. All these people want is for the other side to get upset, so if we stop writing thinkpieces about the rise of dapper white nationalism and focus more on how liberals hate suicide cults, we can be rid of them almost immediately.

BREAKING NEWS: C-word who only tweets C-wordy antisemitic things DOES!

Ann Coulter is a good example. She’s the skeletal remains of antique intolerance, and she has about as much cultural influence as Corey Feldman’s band, Oral Thrush and the Yeast 2000s. Has she ever done anything other than hiss wrong things at impatient TV personalities or pretend that clinical antisemitism is antisemitic comedy? She only seems like she is a thing because 10,000 of us dunk on the bitch every time she blames her oral thrush on the Jews. Without all of us explaining to each other how wrong she is, Coulter would just be wandering through Home Depot to see if there are any white employees she can ask about the toilet safety rails. And soon she would be hatching spider eggs in her mouth while her parakeet watched her body rot. “Rawk! The Jews are at it again!” it would repeat to her undiscovered corpse. “The Jews are at it again!”

We all seem to get how dumb it is when the news says “teens” are doing a comically apeshit thing like human centipede parties or detergent eating. Why can’t we use those same giant brains to figure out how one Nazi nerd looking for attention isn’t “the Right”? I know it’s tough to resist trolls, but Kim Kardashian owning all the world’s money should have taught you that there is virtue in shutting the fuck up about some things. We need to stay strong not in the battle against the “alt-right,” but in the battle to ignore them. The next time you see another column about how women won’t date conservative men, leave it alone. Let those dickless Nazis keep writing versions of that article into the empty void until they learn evil causes women to dry up. And the next time someone on your Facebook thread defends their Second Amendment rights after a school shooting, don’t validate their child murder fandom with attention. Move your cursor to the left and click on their mother’s profile. Pose as Blake Shelton, win her moist trust, and quietly destroy that child-murderer’s family. Every one of us can shut up and make a difference.

Seanbaby invented being funny on the Internet. You can follow him on Twitter, or play his hit mobile game Calculords.

Did you realize Casper van Dien was in a Tarzan movie in the 90s?

Support Cracked’s journalism with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.

For more, check out 5 Deeply Embarrassing Things The News Keeps Doing and 6 Times The News Went Totally Overboard Chasing A Story.

You should click on this link and follow us on Facebook.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/blog/5-stupid-things-we-need-to-stop-clicking-on/

from Viral News HQ https://ift.tt/2rizBky via Viral News HQ

[baldeductoe]

Hot Potato

           They both stood in the room forehead to forehead, leaning against each other.  In the darkness, they couldn’t see anything but they felt the silent orchestra of emotions swell.  His brow would rustle and pull inwards as he leaned his heft onto her only to have his aggression soften into quiet apologies and rock slowly back onto his heels to allow for her furrowed brow to push some unspoken emotion back onto him as if he were some malleable mound of blame.  Back and forth, the slow rock of guilt and blame would shift from one to the other.  They were two entities spiraling around the same idea only resisting the coagulation of the two spirits into that conclusion.  The two forever swirling around a single point with enough energy to forever keep the two from coalescing onto an end.

           The room was void of everything except boxes stuffed frantically with memories.  There were only five boxes in the room but each with enough kinetic energy built from the colosseum of domestic abuse that registers, at this point, intimacy as large, dumb red flags.  

           The boxes, compounded with the stubbornness of the participants, made the affair far more heavy than any casual arrangements of broken hearts.  Here, in this realm of relation, the world itself is a dark, violent game of both blame and responsibility, where both parties try at their maximum capacity to shift the focus of guilt to another as if some dirty game of hot potato.

           But, the two found their center and maintained themselves in perfect equilibrium in the center of the room.  Both forehead to forehead; both on the pure scale of blame before mighty Justice herself; and, most importantly, both humbled before the powerful realization that they are both on a level playing field.  Neither of them would come to accept this of course, but they know it.  If even for a moment, this knowledge provided both of the combatants to become humbled before the unrelenting threshold of consequence the opposing party met prior to, and even preceding, the moment of breakage.  But neither would acknowledge this.  Not one of them would openly accept their conclusion in the face of their friends, because having the power to degrade and denounce someone would grant both of them enough distance—“transcendental” leeway—to enable their departure and their movement away from an ex to completely belittle their blindness to remain in whatever shithole relationship they had established under the perfect guise of harmony and love (the two easiest fronts to fake).

And then she made him leave.  While they sat there wallowing in the past, she called it quits.  She told him he had to go, no words from him, because he knew. But he hated it.  So he leaned in to her neck.  And they melted back the anger to two years before, when they were young and stupidly passionate.  And those strong negative boxes formed into beautiful monuments to the past filled with meaning.  Their clothes slid off in the flux and flow of time while their minds drifted away in the wake of their remembrance.  

But her mind was drawn back from the past due to the functionings of the present and the future.  Her fiancé would be home soon.  He would be devastated.  Johnny had to leave.  So he did but with all of his clothes adjourned and relinquished and left behind as if his own soul.  He walked out to his car.  He started the engine; he felt the thing turn over with harsh finality.  But he sat there reveling in the sadness pouring from his pores as he leaned on the wheel and listened to the engine purr.  For a long time, he sat there, naked save for his underwear listening to the violent sounds inside of his skull.  The world itself vanished under the sensory overload the racket caused him.  The relationship between the silence of the real world and the cacophony of his mental world were completely inverse; as one marched slowly into the limelight, the other would scrape and crawl away into nothingness.  That’s when her fiancé, Alex, pulled in.  

           He was a tall slender man with a nice pair of chinos and a white button up on.  He looked like he had walked directly out of a fashion catalogue from the 40s, despite the modernity of the look.  Across his large and contoured nose rested his horn-rimmed glasses that laid carefully above the crook in his nose.  With the darkness surrounding and the angle of the car, he had no good visual on who was in the beat up BMW.  All of the features of the being in the car faded away leaving the figure looking like a large, jagged cutout.  He walked in close, hand on the knife he kept in his pocket, and peered in from the passenger side to get a better view of who or what had come out to his house, especially so late.  

           Illuminated by the stereo system like some new age votive of anguish, Alex could recognize that it was Johnny, but had problems syncing up his memory of Johnny and the creature that wallowed before him. Still, in the vibrant blue light of the stereo, Johnny’s face was stripped of its emotion, of its depth, and to Alex still looked like a large cutout of a man with the same name as Johnny, but only more removed and resigned, and flat.  Alex knocked on the window out of both curiosity and worry.  

           Johnny turned, but he turned slowly.  It seemed like it would take minutes for him to return the gaze that had been given to him.  The man took his time as if he had no more time in the world that could be wasted. His movements were heavy with time and memory and weighed down by the influx and combination of emotions that somehow arose organically in light of their Frankenstein-esque origins; all emotions whirling about in a Heisenbergian randomness that caused collisions of feeling a powerful as clashing tectonic plates and the consistency heard with the steady popping of popcorn.  Alex had only darkness in his eyes.  Tension blanketed the two of them then.

“You wanna roll the window down, buddy?” Alex’s muffled words barely moved into Johnny’s ears and he rolled down the window.  It was a manual, so it took some breath and time to get the window down, but it only went down halfway (Johnny gave up the efforts to fight the frost and ice to roll the thing down).

“What?” Johnny said after a long, awkward silence that made both men uncomfortable.

“You’re the one in my drive way.  I’d like you to tell me ‘what,’ and where are your clothes, man?” And then it hit him.  The driveway was long and the night dark, and on any given night it was nearly impossible to spot Jodie’s small black Toyota.  But be being closer to the man, seeing the car he did not account for, and smelling the smells of his bedroom on this half-stranger in the car Alex was no longer in need of an answer from Johnny.  

           Just as Johnny went to say something, Alex was already pulling away from him with the thick black knife in his hand and unfolded it with a quick sheen and a decisive, mechanical click.  The snapping open of the knife scared Johnny into silence and forced Alex into action.  He walked about the car and stabbed each of the four tires one time with a savagery that mismatched his clothes and precision.  Slowly, Johnny felt himself shrink down closer to the earth along with his vehicle and the thing felt rooted like a two-ton metal shrub.  Alex made one pass around the car with his tire rampage and sauntered back around to the driver’s side.

“Now you sit here while I go and get some answers.  If you try and leave or run I swear I’ll find you and I’ll drag your ass back here naked for every inch you moved from me.”

           Inside, the air was thick and tense.  The blanket of unease seemed to cover the entire house. All the boxes laid scattered across the floor like beige monuments; stout and heavy, they rested in all areas of the house.  Alex could hear everything so much more clearly than typical.  His senses were heightened out of some animalistic reaction to the ever growing tension in his chest.  It felt like his sternum was crumpling inward by some void just beneath the bone.  He entered their room and saw her there on the mattress on the floor with the half packed, half unpacked boxes, gripping her knees and rocking back and forth. Her head kept knocking the wall and the vibrations jingled the pulleys on the fan like some sort of wind chime that funnels the moroseness of the world.  

           She was taking it all in. The past and present collided within her mind and melted into a shimmering display, like an oil slick—where some colors and some shapes are only seen in a glancing moment before the angle, the movement, some variable, takes away that level.  Here, Jodie’s mind was between the room she shared with Alex and the room the shared with Johnny.  The conditions of moving had provided her with an already unstable surface to conduct business, but Johnny’s touch and presence opened the flood gates of Jodie’s memory that had been fighting and holding back the brackish waters of their past.  This was no ordinary arousal of emotion, this was the growth of something that never should have lived and never should have been allowed to continue to live.  The thing grew even in neglect.  The turning away of eyes does nothing against the chewing of food and the scavenging for life.  

           Left unattended, the thing was allowed to grow unnoticed and grew ravenously with a spirit that would grow to devour exponentially. Rather than letting his and her memory die, Jodie fostered the memory but never caring for it.  She knew the removal would be essential, but the pain and misery extracted from the removal of something so critical to her life—past, present, and future—that she left as if all meaning would be stripped away from life if she was allowed to so readily rearrange herself.  

           So, it grew.  And it pressed at the bounds of her consciousness when the skin of those two meaningless souls touched.  And it shattered everything around her.  Alex stood before her in fear.  His sternum felt as if it has reached his spine and gone farther, like his structure was being crippled.  He tried to speak to her, but her eyes never seemed to focus on him.  They shifted restlessly in apprehension jumping between here and there, past and present; but that’s all—only the vague, empty historicity to attempt to mend her fractured mind.

           The bland beige of the room and the boxes lost even more of their neutrality, sinking into husks of objects that used to have purpose but has shucked it off in that limbo.  The two of them became enveloped in their own uncertainty.  Alex had felt this rift before, he had seen it on her, smelled it in the air when they made love.  His nights, long nights of hard work and immense apathy, had driven him away (he claimed this, but he still couldn’t convince himself this was what happened).  He knew she wanted to leave this town.  Year after year of stagnation breeds a hunger in a person.  The lack of fuel for a soul turns ravenous, but only inwardly—because a soul can only affect itself.  So he ran off to work so they could run away to a new life, a new sanctuary.  However, the past never really dies; the embers of unwatched fires becomes the fires of God’s own wrath.  Johnny had come in, his stink of nostalgia wafting off of him, and given those coals new life, new fuel.  

           Her eyes were no longer on this world.  Her essence was torn between impotence and meaninglessness.  He said no more words, they all sailed away in the sea time.  Alex went to turn, to find Johnny, to spill that blood and kill that future, and, in turn, bleed out the pain of the past like sucking the venom from a wound.  His footsteps shook the house that now was paper thin, almost fake.  

           He left her there like that, alone and throbbing in the dim light of the beige walls.  As he walked through the house, he turned off all of the lights.  Slowly, one by one, he marked his path out with darkness. Each click of the switch seemed so loud to him, so decisive and definitive.  His feet drug over the creaky floors boards.  Just as he hit the last light switch and the darkness fell on him, thick and heavy, he saw the headlights of Johnny’s truck making horizontal slats of light break through the blinds.  

           He stood there in the darkness illuminated by Johnny’s car.  He held his knife limply in his hand, relaxed.  A shadow passed over the lights with sluggish steps and a bowed head as if some monk had wandered too far from his monastery.  The jerking movements and swinging of limps disturbed Alex to his core and the drumline of Jodie’s head slamming the wall only added to the bastardized symphony rolling out of the world.  Then he heard the sloshing, like water.  He heard it as he watched the votive statue shuffle around the yard with a beat and a rhythm all his own.  Everything clanged together while his mind assessed all of the sensory input and try to analyze it properly through the ragged system he was currently working with despite broken time ripping away at his mind.  The bitter effluvium from the fluid stung Alex’s nose and he couldn’t pin the scent to the object, his mind was too hung up on events; hung up on the build up.  

           The door creaked open with an agonized groan.  And the gasoline filled his nose completely. It was almost as if his very brain was encased in the aroma of the gas.  Johnny never gave up his part of the orchestra, his movements remained in time and purposeful even before the eyes of Alex.  The two men made eye contact once Johnny emptied the can in the living room.  Alex fell on him.  Johnny’s retort was lost in the fumes and Alex’s knife was buried into his chest and the blood spilled out in ebbing waves, slow and thick.  As the blood mixed with the gasoline and the copper smell only worsened the harshness of the gas, Alex continued to pummel in the face of the man he once never had any opinion of, some ghost of his girlfriend’s antiquity, and here he was, moving that poor soul into the most profound antiquity—death. The storm of fists continued so that the bones in Alex’s hands were nearly obliterated and hung like wet sacks of gravel, dripping with the red wetness of his solidified jealousy and confusion.  

           Alex rose and stood above Johnny like God looking upon man.  His horn-rimmed glasses still there, only splattered with red like his shirt and the floor.  The gurgling, mumbling, bursts of Johnny’s breathing nearly drowned out the sound of crackling wood.  Alex had, in his frenzy, completely transgressed into a different world; he had somehow not noticed the blaze swelling in from the front door.  All over the porch, the fires danced in its red and orange hue as if hell had come early to take Alex away.  The complete darkness of the house was now destroyed by the swirling, chaotic illuminations of the fire around the still and dead looking contours of the two men’s shadows on the wall.  Below the growing roar of the fire, the thudding in Jodie’s room continued with sickening steadiness.  

           With the flames nearly at his face—truly, they were licking out at him as if to taste him with their long heated tendrils—he gathered up Johnny, knife and all and left the room.  His walk was slow and heavy,but not because of the cargo.  Each step echoed in his mind a memory.  Some pure and real, others artificial; like the speculation of Johnny’s time walking through this house, of him holding Jodie on the couch of the listening room while they listened to all their shared favorites that Jodie never told Alex about (she said it was too painful, but not enough to throw them away, and definitely not enough to prevent from her being caught listening to those antiques when not expecting him).  He followed the banging on the wall.  The smoke grew too thick for his eyes to be his best guidance.  Once in Jodie’s room, the banging stopped.  When Alex rolled in with the smoke and a near corpse dangling from his shoulders, a hush fell and the fire whispered behind them.  Alex threw the man on the ground with a mortal thud, rolled the man over, and pulled the knife from the bare chest—he put his foot on the dying man’s neck to assist in the removal, pushing down while ripping the knife away.  

           As Alex turned to leave, the blood began again to pool out and away.  Once out of the door, he turned back to look and saw the blood reaching out to the bed where Jodie sat and she reaching out towards it.  The door slid shut and he was back into the inferno that tore through the house like a titan.  The swelling in his brain pushed out all of the sounds and he felt as if he were weightless, as if her were in some painting, staring into the red void of hatred that was summoned before him (possibly out of him).  He took this as his moment of retreat—surrender, rather.

           The fire trailed and reached for Alex as he walked coolly out the back door, and once through the frame, after the click of the knob, sound blasted his ears.  The screaming—of the fire and of the girl inside—disoriented space and time itself. Every crackle and pop by now had matured into the snapping explosions and crashing.  Like a swarm of locus, the house sang its macabre melodies into the orange black of the night reaching up over and above the trees where the fire raised to and set fire to.  Stepping back, giving himself the perspective he needed to take in the proud monster he had begot.  Red ate everything.  

_page/i���M�Y