#Common sense rules. Some stuff should be called out. But I will not be getting involved if i'm not a part of it. I think that's only fair.

[sangreprince]

A LITTLE DISCLAIMER REGARDING CALLOUTS

If somebody's making a friend / mutual uncomfortable, I'll do what I need to do to facilitate the separation of those two spaces. Similarly, if I'm being used to get close to somebody I know, I take issue with that. I'm not unreasonable. And mutuals can talk to me and if there's some baggage related to somebody I write with, just let me know and I'll try to figure something out that makes everybody comfortable and kosher.

I do read them. But other than that, if it's not my business it's not my business. I'm not gonna be complacent in allowing for uncomfortable situations to come up based on that impartiality, but I'm also not here to be anyone's dad and break up / get involved in fights that I'm not even a part of.

[elftwink]

going to say something about writing that is not a complaint and i know it sounds exactly like someone complaining but the conclusion i have drawn is that this rules. preface over am currently "working on" (in the most generous, nebulous sense possible) an original fantasy story & i just keep finding more stuff about the world i need to decide because it feels extremely formative to me even though it will barely appear on the page, if at all

but like... just the sheer volume of communication irl that happens symbolically that you never question becomes so apparent when you try to create a world that doesn't have those things or doesn't have the conditions for such a thing to be created. writing a character wearing a wedding ring and then going wait a minute— would these people communicate marital status via ring placement? why do we do that irl? when did we start? surely thats not the only way people ever communicate marriage— what does everyone else do? and really, come to think of it, what does it mean to be 'married' in this fictional world i'm creating? is there a legal component or just a social one? should it have all the same connotations/obligations as the real world (e.g. monogamy, having children, romantic love, impact on finances, etc)?

you can do this with literally Everything In The World. what language is everyone speaking? is it the same one? how many languages are there in the region i'm writing about? is the language we're speaking anyone's second language? when did they learn? is bilingualism common? and where does everyone here live? speaking of living, is that a permanent dwelling situation or are people nomadic? what's the climate like? are all the characters here used to the climate or is someone used to ten degrees cooler and kind of short tempered because of it? the clothes are probably impacted by the weather, what's everyone wearing? what's it made out of? what would be around here that could be used for dye? help me i have a case of worldbuilders disease and its incurable. these motherfuckers are never going to finish this journey because i cant even get them on the page long enough to pack a cart. also would they use carts? when did we start having cart and carriages pulled on roads irl? if there's roads, who's maintaining them— or is it just the path from years of people travelling that way? does the terrain allow for wheeled vehicles or would some other way be better?

anyway. you may call all this a waste of time and "not technically writing" since i "havent written any prose". i think im just slow cooking this novel. oooooh im thinking about it so much. you just wait when im like 56 im going to knock your socks right off with my intricate detailed world where i thought about everything except whatever element of society you understand most deeply. that part i fucked up and clearly didn't know anything about. sorry

[vandme12]

Cereal Cannibal - Misaki x Seung-min Kim G.N Reader

WORDS : 7000

PROMPT : FALLING FOR YOU

CHARACTER USED : Misaki from Killer Chat!

INSPIRATION FROM : Seung-min Kim from My Sweet! Housemate!

SUMMARY : Misaki gets a new house, with a housemate, who's their landlord, who's also a cannibal

Misaki sat on the cold, metal floor of their bunker, staring at the last few bills in their hand. It wasn’t enough. Not even close. The place they had been calling home was no longer an option—issues with the owner, debts piling up, and now, they were being forced out. It sucked. Hard.

They had no choice but to leave.

“You should check out the deep web listings,” Ronin suggested, leaning back against the worn-out couch that Misaki had scavenged months ago.

Angel scoffed. “That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

V, ever the practical one, just shrugged. “It’s not the worst idea. There are some surprisingly legit places there. Just be careful.”

Misaki groaned, running a hand through their short, messy hair. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Their friends didn’t say anything, and the silence was answer enough.

So Misaki did what they had to do. Digging through the deep web, they scrolled past one shady listing after another until they stumbled upon an absurdly cheap offer—1,000 yen rent. The catch? They had to live with their landlord.

“Well,” they muttered to themselves, “I’ve dealt with worse.”

With a deep breath, they sent in their application. It wasn’t long before they got a response—approved.

Misaki sat cross-legged on the cold, metal floor of their bunker, hands clasped together as they muttered an impromptu prayer. “Listen, God, I know I haven’t been the best person—kinda kill people for a living, but, uh, desperate times. If you could just let this rent application go through, I swear I’ll… I don’t know, maybe stop calling Angel cannibal?”

“Liar,” Angel deadpanned

“Okay, okay. I’ll just do less.”

Ronin rolled their eyes. “You’re praying to God for a shady deep web apartment?”

“Hey, I’m broke, desperate, and out of options. Divine intervention is my last hope.”

V, raised a brow. “Or, you know, common sense.”

Before Misaki could snap back with a sarcastic remark, their laptop chimed with a notification. Their heart pounded as they scrambled to check their email. They half-expected a rejection, a scam link, or some weird cryptic message about selling their soul. But instead, there it was:

“Come on, come on,” they muttered under their breath, bouncing their leg impatiently.

Ding!

Their email refreshed, and there it was—a response.

“APPROVED.”

Misaki blinked. That was… fast. Almost too fast. Shouldn’t there have been, like, an entire government-level interrogation? A credit check? A deep dive into their very questionable employment history? Instead, it was just a short email.

They clicked it open, and their eyes skimmed over the entire terms and conditions.

All ten lines.

If you like the house, come to the address and check it out.

I’ll give you a copy of the key.

Consider yourself my roommate/housemate if you stay.

Pay rent on time, or at least try.

Don’t break my stuff.

If you see anything weird, ignore it.

Seriously, don’t ask questions.

The basement is off-limits.

No loud noises after midnight.

Welcome home! 😊

Misaki reread the email three times before looking up at their friends. “This is either the best or the worst decision of my life.”

Ronin “That’s it? I’ve seen more rules on the back of a cereal box.”

Message: Hey, if you like the house, come to the address and check it out. I’ll give you a copy of the key, and boom, you’re my roommate/housemate. See ya soon. – Landlord

“…That’s it?” Misaki blinked.

Angel talked. “Where’s the absurdly long lease agreement? The blood pact? The firstborn child sacrifice clause?”

V looked unimpressed. “I was at least expecting a ‘terms and conditions may apply.’”

Ronin whistled. “Honestly, that’s the most efficient rental process I’ve ever seen.”

Misaki reread the email, waiting for some hidden attachment or fine print, but nope. That was the whole thing. “They didn’t even do a background check.”

Angel smirked. “That’s probably a good thing for you.”

“Fair.”

Misaki took a deep breath, looking at their friends. “Alright, I guess I’m moving in. If I disappear, avenge me.”

“Absolutely not,” V said immediately. “You did this to yourself.”

Ronin told “Just make sure to check the bathroom for hidden cameras before you settle in.”

Angel smirked. “And if your new landlord asks if you’re allergic to anything, lie.”

“Gee, thanks for the support.”

They zipped up their bag, they felt the tiniest bit of apprehension creep in. Something about this felt too easy. Too convenient.

But then again, their life had never been easy or convenient, so maybe they were just due for a win.

Or, you know, an absolute disaster.

Either way, it was too late to back out now.

Misaki just grinned. “You say that like I don’t already regret every decision I’ve ever made.”

Angel smacked the back of their head. “That is NOT how that works.”

“Whatever, I’m taking the deal.” Misaki pumped their fists in the air. “I HAVE A HOME! SUCK IT, CAPITALISM!”

Ronin, Angel, and V just stared at them.

V sighed. “You’re gonna die.”

“Probably,” Misaki admitted. “But at least I’ll die with cheap rent.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Misaki closed their laptop and started packing their things—which wasn’t much. A duffel bag of clothes, some weapons, a few stolen snacks (for the road), and a single, slightly worn-out plushie that they definitely didn’t sleep with every night.

Misaki strutted through the dimly lit streets of Japan like an absolute chad. Sure, the economy was in the gutter, they were drowning in debt, and they were about to move into a suspiciously cheap apartment that might very well be a front for organ trafficking, but hey—positivity!

"It's fine. Everything's fine," they muttered to themselves, adjusting their duffel bag. "You just gotta impress the housemate, win their heart, and boom—temporary stability. Easy."

They clenched their fist in determination. This was just another mission. Instead of taking someone out, they were trying to not get kicked out. Same skill set, really.

After a long walk filled with self-pep talks and avoiding eye contact with salarymen crying into their vending machine coffee, Misaki finally arrived at the address.

The house looked… normal. Suspiciously normal. The kind of normal that felt wrong in their chaotic existence.

Taking a deep breath, Misaki knocked on the door. No answer. They rang the doorbell. Still nothing.

Then they noticed the door was slightly open.

"Oh, yeah, no red flags here at all," they muttered sarcastically before pushing it open.

"Uh, hello?" Misaki called out, stepping inside.

And that’s when they saw you.

Standing there in the dim light, you looked like a husk of a human being. Your overgrown bangs drooped over your face in a messy, unintentional crossover pattern, like they were actively trying to hide the shame of existence. There was a slight, tragic wave to them—like your hair had once had hope but had long since given up.

Your grey-teal, slightly droopy straight eyes had the kind of dark circles that could only be achieved through years of sleep deprivation, existential dread, and an overwhelming hatred for your job. You were in office wear—a dull, slightly wrinkled suit, tie barely hanging on like your will to live.

Misaki immediately clocked you as a salesperson.

And, oh boy, you looked hideous.

Not in a way that was physically repulsive, but in a way that screamed "I have seen things. I have suffered. And I will suffer again tomorrow from 9 to 5."

Your posture was the physical embodiment of why am I here?, and the way your dead-fish eyes met Misaki’s? Pure, undiluted regret.

There was a long, painful silence.

Misaki blinked.

You blinked.

Misaki cleared their throat. "Sooo… you're the landlord?"

You exhaled through your nose. "I wish I wasn’t."

"Uh-huh." Misaki glanced around. "Cool, cool. Great energy in here."

You gestured vaguely behind you. "Rooms that way. Rent’s due whenever. Don’t break anything. Don’t wake me up. If you summon a demon, tell it to kill me first."

Misaki nodded slowly. "...Love the enthusiasm."

Misaki had a problem.

Not just the broke assassin in crippling debt problem. Not just the this house is suspiciously cheap and my landlord looks like a walking depression commercial problem. No.

They had a problem in a new environment problem.

Which meant they were everywhere in the house within the first five minutes.

First, they tried to unpack, but then they got distracted by a weird stain on the wall that looked like blood (was it blood?), then they decided to check the kitchen because snacks, but then they opened a drawer and immediately forgot why they were even there. Then they somehow ended up in the hallway, staring at a random light switch, flicking it on and off just to see what it did.

Then—CRASH.

A shelf. A whole goddamn shelf. How? How?! It wasn’t even their shelf!

They just stood there, frozen, processing the fact that in five minutes, they had somehow committed their first property damage offense in the new house.

That’s when you walked in.

Dead-eyed. Drained. Like a husk of a man who had just worked a 16-hour shift selling printer ink to people who wanted to die just as much as you did. Your tie was loose like you had considered strangling yourself with it earlier but then sighed and went, not today, maybe tomorrow. Your bangs were a mess—probably hadn’t seen scissors in over a year. Your dark circles were so deep they looked like they were sponsored by a horror movie franchise.

You saw the shelf. You saw Misaki. You sighed. Deeply.

Then, in the most exhausted voice known to humankind, you muttered, "It's fine."

Misaki squinted. "…Wait, seriously?"

You blinked slowly, rubbing your eyes as if you had aged 40 years in the past 40 seconds. "Yeah. Whatever. I'll fix it later. It's fine."

That was when Misaki realized something horrifying.

You were so goddamn tired that you had transcended anger. You had seen so much bullshit in your life that a random destroying your furniture on day one didn’t even faze you.

They felt guilty. Misaki never felt guilty. They were a menace by nature. But you… You looked so damn miserable that it physically hurt them.

They tried to lighten the mood. “Uh, sorry about the—uh, shelf thing. But! Hey! At least I didn't burn the house down?”

You stared at them. Just stared.

They shifted awkwardly. “I mean, technically, I could have! That’s improvement, right?”

Silence.

Then you muttered, "Hello, Misaki."

Misaki blinked. “Oh, uh, actually, my name’s not Misaki, it’s—”

They paused, realizing their mistake.

Then, dramatically, throwing their arms out, they corrected themselves.

"MISAKI!"

There was a long pause. You just stared. The kind of stare that screamed ‘I am too tired for this but I will endure.’

Misaki waited for you to react. Maybe a sigh? A head shake? A single sign of life?

But you just closed your eyes for a moment, like you were mentally preparing yourself to deal with them for the foreseeable future.

And when you reopened them, you still looked exhausted. Still looked like you hated your job, your life, everything.

And Misaki—chaotic, impulsive, disaster of a person—felt something they rarely ever felt.

Pity.

You rubbed your temples, trying to fight off the migraine that had been steadily building for the last—what, three years? Maybe longer? Time was a blur when you lived in a constant state of exhaustion.

Misaki had already caused minor property damage. You should care. You should be concerned. But instead, you were just so damn tired.

With a sigh, you trudged over to the small, cluttered table in the living room, grabbed a stack of papers, and slapped them down in front of them. "Contract’s here. If you like the place, sign it. If not, you can leave and go back to… whatever questionable living situation you came from."

Misaki blinked. “That’s it? No interrogation? No ‘I need your government ID’ or ‘sign away your soul’ clause?”

You sighed again. Deeply. “Rent is 1,000 yen. I don’t care when you pay it. Just… get it to me eventually.”

They stared at you. Hard.

You could tell they were waiting for you to drop some sort of catch, some hidden clause that would reveal this was actually a scam or a murder plot. But there was nothing. Just you, standing there in your wrinkled office wear, looking like you’d rather be anywhere else.

They slowly pointed at you. “Why… aren’t you asking any additional details? Like my job? Or my background?”

You shrugged. “I don’t care.”

That seemed to stun them. They just stood there, processing the sheer lack of effort you were putting into this situation.

You checked the time on your watch. Your shift started in ten minutes. You were already late. Your boss was probably foaming at the mouth waiting to scream at you, but honestly? You had stopped caring about that job ages ago.

Still, you needed it to pay for this miserable excuse of an apartment.

You ran a hand down your face and muttered to yourself, "God, I need a new job."

Misaki tilted their head. “You work sales, right?”

You scoffed. Bitterly. “If you can even call it that.”

Your voice turned dull and lifeless as you mocked yourself. “Hello, sir, would you be interested in our limited-time printer ink bundle? No? That’s okay, let me waste five more minutes of your time explaining a warranty that you’ll never use. Oh, you’re walking away? I see. I am but a worm beneath your shoe. I exist to suffer. Thank you for your time.”

Misaki blinked. Twice.

You exhaled sharply and rubbed your eyes. “I swear, if I stay here one more minute, I’m going to get fired.”

They stared at you. Hard.

Then, with zero hesitation, they said, "I wanna stay."

You blinked at them. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“You just got here.”

“Yep.”

“The shelf thing just happened.”

“Uh-huh.”

You exhaled through your nose. “You’re a very eager one, huh?”

Misaki shrugged. “Look, you’re tired, I’m tired, and this place is cheap. Seems like a win for both of us.”

You didn’t argue. You just reached for the contract, flipped it to the signature page, and handed them a pen. “Fine. Sign here.”

Misaki took the pen with an enthusiastic nod and scrawled their name in an exaggerated, dramatic fashion.

MISAKI 🐱

You stared at it.

They smiled.

It was a completely normal, cheerful smile.

Like nothing about this situation was weird.

Like they hadn’t just put a cat emoji in their official contract signature.

You dragged a hand down your face. "Why."

Misaki just grinned wider. "Why not?"

You sighed for what felt like the hundredth time today. “Welcome home, I guess.”

Maybe you’d regret this later.

Maybe you wouldn’t.

Either way, you had exactly five minutes to sprint to work before your boss started sending you death threats via email.

You grabbed your coat, already halfway out the door when you paused and looked back at Misaki. They were busy poking at the contract like it was a rare artifact instead of a legally binding document, probably still amused at the fact that they got away with signing it with a cat emoji.

With a sigh, you muttered, “Don’t open the door for strangers.”

Misaki scoffed. “I’m not a kid.”

You rubbed your temple. “I know. Just… saying. Sorry.”

That should have been the end of it. You should have walked out and gone to work, but something snapped inside you, and suddenly, words just started tumbling out of your exhausted soul like a faucet with a broken handle.

"Look, it's just... I've had the worst week. No, month. Maybe year. My job sucks, my boss looks like a diseased ferret in a cheap suit, I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since 2018, and now I’m standing here in my own apartment, warning a fully grown adult about basic safety like I’m some overworked single parent—"

Misaki blinked. Twice.

"—and I have to leave right now because if I don't show up at work, my paycheck will be so small I’ll have to start stealing sugar packets from cafes just to survive!"

They nodded slowly. “...That’s a lot, dude.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, rubbing your eyes. “Anyway. I was gonna make dinner later. If you want, you can join me. Whatever I cook will probably be mediocre at best, but at least it won’t be cup noodles.”

Misaki’s eyes sparkled. SPARKLED. “I accept.”

"Cool," you mumbled, too drained to process their enthusiasm. You turned and left, already dreading the shift ahead of you.

Meanwhile...

The moment the door shut, Misaki EXPLODED.

"HAHAHAHA! I GOT A HOME!!"

They dramatically threw their arms up and immediately grabbed their PC, clutching it like it was their firstborn child. "YAY!"

Ronin, V, and Angel, who had been waiting for an update, got an earful as Misaki hopped onto a call.

“GUYS! I’M IN!”

Ronin snorted. "Took you long enough. So, what's the place like?"

"Honestly? Pretty normal. But my landlord—"

Angel cut in. "Wait. You met them?"

"Yeah?" Misaki flopped onto their new (and slightly squeaky) bed. "They look like they haven’t slept since the invention of capitalism. Like, imagine a guy who’s been dealing with too much bullshit, and you multiply that by, like, fifty. That’s them."

Ronin cackled. "Sounds like a great roommate dynamic. A sleep-deprived office worker and a contract assassin. Truly the dream team."

Misaki smirked. "I'm pretty sure I could break a plate in front of them and they’d just sigh and accept it as part of their fate."

V, who had been oddly silent until now, finally spoke.

"Misaki."

Misaki blinked. "Huh? What’s up? You almost never call me."

V didn’t respond immediately. There was a slight pause, as if they were carefully choosing their words. Then—

"If that person is dangerous, you can tell me."

Misaki’s teasing expression softened a little. V wasn’t usually the overprotective type, but when they were, it always hit different.

"Awh, V…" Misaki grinned, but this time, it was more genuine. “Don’t worry. If anything sketchy happens, you’ll be the first to know."

"...Good," V muttered

Misaki stared at the screen for a second before chuckling softly to themselves.

Yeah. Things might be weird.

But at least they weren’t alone.

Misaki sprawled across their new bed, lazily twirling a stray lock of hair as they grumbled into the call. “Man, my landlord is so boring.”

Ronin snorted. “Already talking shit? You literally just moved in.”

“No, like, seriously.” Misaki threw their legs up against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “There is nothing about them that makes them even remotely interesting. They’re not cute, not hot, not even a charming idiot. Just a sleep-deprived husk of a person. Like, imagine if a tax return became human.”

Angel wheezed. “Not a tax return.”

Misaki kept going. “Dude looks like they’ve been slowly decaying under fluorescent lighting for the past decade. You ever see someone who just radiates corporate misery? That’s them. Their entire personality is ‘I hate my job, I hate my life, I hate that I’m standing here breathing air right now.’”

V hummed. “...So, what you’re saying is, they’re not your type.”

"EXACTLY." Misaki pointed at their screen like V could actually see them. "I’m telling you, there is a 0% chance of me falling for them. Zero. Absolutely no potential for romance. If my life was a dating sim, this person wouldn't even be a side character. They’d be like... the NPC running a convenience store who has one line of dialogue.”

Ronin was dying. “Bro. You moved in like two hours ago. How are you this sure?”

Misaki scoffed. "Because! No charm. No personality. No tragic backstory with just the right amount of angst to make them attractive. Not even a hint of adorable dumbass energy. My standards are on the floor, and somehow, they still didn’t pass."

Angel whistled. "Damn. So what are they?"

"A blank slate," Misaki declared. "Like, just a person. An overworked, underpaid, ‘I’m too tired to care’ person. They didn’t even care about my background. Just said, 'Sign here' and 'Don't open the door for strangers.' Like, where’s the spice? The mystery? The suspiciously convenient tragic past?”

V sighed. “You’re disappointed your landlord isn’t a walking red flag, aren’t you?”

Misaki gasped. “How dare you.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“I don’t want them to be a red flag!” Misaki flopped onto their stomach. “I just expected something. But no. Just a corporate zombie with an office job and the social energy of a potato.”

Ronin smirked. "Sounds like you feel bad for them."

Misaki scoffed. "I don’t—"

Angel cut in. "Oh, you totally do."

V chuckled. "Misaki’s about to adopt this poor soul."

"I AM NOT—” Misaki groaned, rolling onto their back dramatically. “Okay. Fine. Maybe I feel a little bad. Like. Bro looks so exhausted. Their eyes have dark circles so bad it looks like they’re wearing eyeliner—but not in the hot way. In the ‘I have never known rest’ way.”

Ronin cackled. "So what I’m hearing is, you’re gonna start feeding them proper meals and fixing their life."

Misaki scoffed. "I am not—”

Angel interrupted. "Misaki. You literally just agreed to have dinner with them."

Misaki paused.

"......okay but that's different!"

"Is it?"

"YES. I mean, come on, they look like they live off black coffee and regret. They need help."

V sighed, amused. "So you are gonna try and fix their life."

Misaki grumbled. "Shut up."

Ronin grinned. "You're so falling for them."

"AM NOT."

"You so are."

Misaki groaned loudly, smacking a pillow over their face. "WHYYYY."

Angel laughed. "Face it, dude. You already care."

"I DO NOT—"

"Yes, you do."

"I AM NOT—"

"Yes, you do."

Misaki groaned louder, kicking their legs. "UGHHHHHHHHHH."

V just chuckled. "You can keep lying to yourself. But we’ll be here when you eventually eat your words."

Misaki dramatically pointed at their screen. "MARK MY WORDS. I will not fall for this person."

Ronin smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Sure."

Angel hummed. "We’ll check back in a month."

V sighed. "A week."

Misaki groggily cracked one eye open, blinking at the dim light seeping through their window. Something felt off. Their brain, still half-asleep, took a few seconds to piece it together.

The clock.

They shot up. 9PM.

“OH SHIT.”

They scrambled out of bed, nearly face-planting as they tripped over their own bag. "I SLEPT SO LONG—WHY DID NO ONE WAKE ME UP?!" Their first day here and they already looked like some lazy freeloader. The impressions? SO BAD.

And worse—FREE FOOD.

They were supposed to eat with their landlord. That was the deal. The agreement. And now? They were about to walk in like some sleep-deprived goblin asking for scraps. No, no, no, I need to salvage this—

Still in their slightly rumpled clothes, they rushed out into the hallway—only to pause.

Why was it so dark?

Like, yeah, okay, it was night. But this wasn’t just regular night darkness. This was horror movie darkness. The kind where someone would definitely get jump-scared if this were a film.

"...Maybe they thought I was still sleeping and didn’t want to disturb me?" they mumbled to themselves, rubbing their arms.

Still, that meant their landlord was up. And they were probably in the kitchen.

Misaki crept forward, heart pounding from both oversleep anxiety and the eerie vibe of the house. They reached the kitchen door and, taking a deep breath, swung it open.

And immediately wished they hadn’t.

Because there, standing at the counter, was their landlord.

Covered in blood.

Chopping human hands.

"...What."

The sound of a knife steadily hitting the wooden cutting board was the only thing filling the silence. The metallic scent in the air? That was not normal food.

Misaki, frozen, stared at the scene before them. The dim kitchen light flickered just enough to make it worse. Their landlord, sleeves rolled up, hands stained red, expression completely blank.

Their mouth moved before their brain could stop it.

“...Uh. H-Halloween props?”

Their landlord didn’t even blink. Their voice was dry. Flat. “It’s human meat.”

Misaki gawked. Then screeched, “YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO AGREE WITH ME!”

Their landlord just went back to chopping. “You asked. I answered.”

"LIE TO ME, DAMN IT."

The chopping continued. Misaki, still standing in the doorway like a dumbass, did their best not to freak the hell out.

Okay. Okay. There were two options here.

Run.

Pretend this isn’t happening and get some free food.

...Misaki was so hungry.

But also. THIS WAS REALLY BAD.

They swallowed thickly. "O-Okay. Haha. Funny prank. Y-You got me. W-Wait—wait, actually, this is a prank, right? Like, like, come on. Haha, Misaki’s an idiot, they fell for it, right? Hahahaha—"

Their landlord finally looked up, blinking at them.

"...You missed dinner."

Misaki blinked back. THAT'S NOT AN ANSWER.

They forced a stiff smile. "Haha. Yeah. Super sorry about that. But, uh, back to the insanely concerning thing you’re doing—"

Their landlord sighed, sounding just...so unbelievably tired. "Do you want food or not?"

Misaki’s stomach betrayed them instantly.

A loud, miserable growl echoed through the kitchen.

Silence.

Misaki wanted to die.

Their landlord just went back to chopping. “Sit down.”

Misaki’s legs moved before their survival instincts could stop them. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THEM.

They plopped into a chair at the kitchen table, brain screaming at them the whole time. This is bad, this is bad, this is—

A plate was placed in front of them. A steaming dish of...something.

Misaki stared at it.

Their landlord sat across from them. Staring. Expression unreadable.

Misaki picked up their chopsticks very slowly.

"...So. Haha. Just to clarify. What...exactly...is in this?"

Their landlord took a sip of their tea. "Food."

"...But, like. What food?"

A long pause. Too long.

"...Meat."

"What kind of meat?"

Another pause.

Misaki squinted.

Their landlord sighed. "Not human."

Misaki exhaled so hard they nearly passed out. "THANK YOU." They hesitantly took a bite, still on edge but way too hungry to care anymore.

"...It’s good," they mumbled through their mouthful.

Their landlord shrugged. "I know."

Silence settled between them as they ate.

Eventually, Misaki, unable to let it go, squinted again. "So, like. If I didn’t walk in on you just now, were you gonna tell me about the whole...human hands thing?"

Their landlord sighed like they had the worst headache. "...I was going to clean up before you woke up."

"*Oh, so you had a PLAN.**"

"Yes. Until you ruined it."

"SORRY FOR WAKING UP AND CATCHING YOU WITH BODY PARTS."

"Noted."

You let out a tired sigh, rubbing the back of your neck as you casually wiped the blood off the knife. “It’s nothing. Just some weird-looking shit.”

Your eyebags were doing all the talking for you. They were deep, dark, and probably had their own tragic backstory at this point. Combined with the blank, sleep-deprived expression on your face, you looked exactly like the type of person who’d chase someone down a dark alley with a kitchen knife—except you were too tired to actually run, so you’d probably just slowly walk after them like some unstoppable horror villain.

You smiled.

And not a comforting smile.

A dead inside but definitely hiding something smile.

Misaki, for some reason, just sat there, staring at you like they were contemplating something deep. You waited. And then, out of nowhere—

“…NGL, you do look kinda hot with eyebags.”

You blinked. “What?”

Misaki immediately sat up straight. “NOTHING.”

Your exhausted brain short-circuited for a moment. You knew you looked terrifying. This was not a “hot person” moment. You were literally covered in blood, and they had the audacity to say that?

You squinted at them. “Are you flirting with me while I’m holding a knife?”

Misaki, shoving more food into their mouth to escape the situation, spoke through their chewing. “Hahhaha what nooooo you misheard me anyway sooo you’re a serial killer?”

You sighed, pushing the knife aside. “No.”

“…A cannibal?”

“No.”

“Serial killer?”

“No.”

“Cannibal?”

“No.”

“…Serial killer cannibal?”

You stared at them, absolutely deadpan.

“Cannibal serial?”

The stare continued.

“…Cereal?”

You rested your chin in your hand, blinking at them very slowly, like a tired cat contemplating murder.

“If you’re thinking about calling the police,” you finally said, voice dry and smug, “just know you can’t.”

Misaki raised a brow. “And why is that?”

You gave them a look, gesturing vaguely at their whole situation. “You see, Mx. Misaki—” (you dragged out their name for extra dramatic effect) “—you are completely fine.”

Misaki paused, chopsticks halfway to their mouth. “I feel like I should disagree with that.”

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair with the most exhausted but smug expression ever. “No, you won’t. If you were that desperate for a place to stay, why would you start questioning things now?”

Silence.

Misaki hated that you had a point.

You let your head tilt to the side slightly, your tired smile stretching just a bit. Your overgrown bangs crossed over your face, casting shadows over your already dark-circled eyes. You looked crazy. Like, the kind of crazy that wasn’t even trying to be threatening—it was just naturally unsettling.

And yet, somehow, it worked.

Misaki sat there, staring at you like they were trying to process several emotions at once.

They squinted. Then they sighed. “God. Damn it.”

You arched a brow. “Problem?”

Misaki rubbed their temples. “No, it’s fine, I just… really, really hate that you’re kinda right.”

You chuckled, pushing their contract across the table. “Good. Now, are you actually gonna sign, or do I have to sit here and look at you until you cave?”

Misaki snatched the pen. “You’re terrifying.”

“You’re still here.”

“Shut up.”

They quickly scribbled their name on the contract. And, in a moment of true genius, wrote Misaki—except they added a little meow at the end.

You squinted at it.

You stretched your arms over your head, your bones cracking like a horror movie sound effect. “Alright, you can sleep now. Unless…” You tilted your head, that same eerie, exhausted smile tugging at your lips. “You wanna watch me cut?”

Misaki immediately recoiled. “No!? Nah, ewww, bro. The hell!?”

You chuckled, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. “It’s okay. Just know this, Misaki…” You let your smile linger as you picked up the knife again, voice dropping to something too casual for the situation. “…I know where your room is.”

Misaki stared at you. Then, very slowly, nodded. “Yes. Because… we live in the same apartment.”

“Exactly.” You grinned, tapping the blade against the cutting board. “Just making sure you remember.”

There was a pause before Misaki narrowed their eyes. “…Are you actually gonna eat it?”

“Yes.” You said it so matter-of-factly, like it was just a regular grocery store steak.

Misaki gagged. “BRO.”

“Waste of meat otherwise,” you replied, moving the chopped… pieces into a storage container like this was just your regular meal prep. “I’ll store it.”

Misaki looked so deeply disturbed. “You look like a whole-ass horror movie antagonist right now.”

“Yes,” you said, unbothered, still focused on your work. “I am a mess. Last time, the dry cleaners didn’t believe it was just suit paint. Had to be real careful.”

Misaki rubbed their face. “Jesus. The fact that I don’t even know if you’re joking or not is crazy.”

You glanced up from your task, eyes dark and unreadable. “Don’t try anything stupid, Misaki.”

They stiffened slightly. “Uh. Yeah. Of course not.” They pointed a thumb toward the hallway. “I’m just… gonna go this way…”

You gave a slow nod. “And I’m gonna stay here…” You trailed off, staring blankly at the cutting board.

Misaki hesitated. “And… do what you do…”

You smiled again, soft and exhausted. “Good night, Misaki.”

They stood there for another second, just long enough to question every single life choice that led them to this moment. Then, very quickly, they left.

Because if they stayed in that kitchen any longer, they were pretty sure they were going to start questioning their sanity.

Misaki slammed their door shut so hard the walls rattled. They didn’t care. Their heart was pounding in their chest, adrenaline coursing through their veins. They pressed their back against the door, locking it in one swift motion before triple-checking that it was actually locked.

They had just walked in on their new landlord butchering human hands.

HUMAN. HANDS.

They squeezed their eyes shut and took a deep breath.

Okay.

This was fine.

This was so fine that their fingers trembled as they fumbled with their phone, opening the group chat and pressing the call button for the three people they trusted most in this world.

📞 Calling: Ronin, Angel, V.

Each ring made their pulse spike. Misaki was practically vibrating with panic by the time someone finally picked up.

“Who died?” V’s voice came through first—sharp, unimpressed, and already so incredibly done.

“I DID.” Misaki whisper-screamed, throwing themselves onto their bed and clutching the phone like a lifeline. “I JUST FOUND OUT MY LANDLORD IS A SERIAL KILLER—ACTUALLY, NO—A SERIAL CANNIBAL.”

Silence.

It stretched on for a few painful seconds before Ronin, always the worst possible person in situations like these, finally spoke up:

“That’s so f*cking cool.”

“SHUT UP, GOREBIY.” V immediately snapped. “MISAKI, GET OUT. NOW.”

Angel, normally chaotic, actually sounded concerned. “Wait, wait, wait, explain. Are they, like… bad bad? Or just… you know… manageable?”

“OKAY,” Misaki took a deep, shaky breath. “So, I woke up, right? And I go to the kitchen—AND THEY’RE JUST CHOPPING UP HUMAN HANDS.”

Ronin whistled. “Damn. Whole hands? That’s commitment.”

V exhaled sharply, like they were personally suffering. “MISAKI.”

Angel hummed. “…Maybe they just like fresh ingredients.”

Misaki squinted. “Angel.”

Angel cleared their throat. “I—I mean—that’s weird! Super weird! Ha ha! Who would do that?! Not me.”

“You absolutely would, and you’re in denial.” Misaki deadpanned before continuing. “ANYWAY, I was like, ‘bro, is this some kind of Halloween prop or something?’ AND THEY JUST—THEY JUST DRYLY WENT, ‘IT’S HUMAN MEAT.’”

V: “LEAVE. GET OUT. CALL THE COPS.”

Ronin: “WHY WOULD YOU CALL THE COPS? THIS IS FREE CONTENT.”

V: “I SWEAR TO GOD, RONIN.”

Misaki flopped onto their back, exasperated. “NO, Y’ALL, LOOK. They seem chill. I don’t think they’re gonna eat me. I’m just saying—THEY’RE A SERIAL KILLER, LIKE US.”

Silence.

A heavy, judgmental silence.

V: “…That does not make it better.”

Angel: “That kinda makes it better.”

Ronin: “That definitely makes it better.”

V: “I NEED NEW FRIENDS.”

Misaki sat up, grinning. “Look, I swear, I think they’re cool. A little dead inside. A little tired of life. A little unhinged. But, like, in a fun way.”

“…Misaki.” Angel sighed. “Tell me the truth.”

“Yeah?”

Angel sounded incredibly unimpressed. “Did you think they looked hot?”

Silence.

A very dangerous silence.

Then, Ronin burst into laughter.

“OH MY GOD.”

V groaned like they were physically in pain.

Angel sighed, exasperated. “You’re so hopeless.”

“I—” Misaki felt personally attacked. “OKAY, LISTEN, IN MY DEFENSE—THEY HAD A PINK APRON ON.”

V: “WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING!??”

Ronin: “NO, WAIT, I SEE THE VISION.”

Angel: “Honestly, I kinda get it.”

V: “STOP AGREEING WITH THIS.”

Misaki pointed at nothing. “They looked extremely messy and hot. Like, imagine eyebags so bad it looks like they’ve been awake for years. They had the tired, dead-inside psycho look but with, like, a pink ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron.”

“…Oh my God.” V sounded like he were suffering.

Angel sighed. “Fine. I won’t tell you to run. But. If they start getting weird with you—”

“WEIRDER.” V corrected.

“—you call us immediately, alright?”

Misaki saluted. “Aye aye, captain.”

V groaned louder. “I’m going to find you a new place. Don’t die before then.”

“No promises.” Misaki grinned.

And with that, they hung up, absolutely pleased with themselves.

Because, let’s be honest.

This was gonna be fun.

For the first few days, things were… weirdly normal.

Sure, their landlord was a serial killer and a cannibal, but Misaki had seen worse. They were alive, weren’t they? Not chopped up in the fridge? Not marinated in some mystery sauce? That was a win.

Besides, they had their own room, cheap rent, and, most importantly—free shit.

Like, actual free shit.

Their landlord didn’t just let them stay, they gave them access to everything.

Netflix? Free. Wi-Fi? Free. Streaming services? Free. Some random subscription to an online manga site? Also free.

All just handed over.

Misaki had barely even asked. One offhand comment about boredom, and boom.

"Oh. Here. Just use mine."

BRO.

They were living the life.

Their job wasn’t too bad, either. As long as they kept doing their work remotely, no one cared. Meanwhile, their landlord was busy being a corporate slave—dragging themselves to their soul-sucking job every single morning and coming back more and more dead inside.

But hey. That was their problem.

Misaki? Misaki was thriving.

At least… until today.

Misaki woke up to a noise.

It wasn’t an alarming noise, per se, but it was… consistent. A weird, low dragging sound.

Their brain, still foggy with sleep, immediately jumped to the worst conclusion.

Oh no. They’re dragging a corpse again, aren’t they?

Great. Fantastic. How wonderful.

They rolled over, pulling the blanket over their head. Maybe if they ignored it, they could go back to sleep.

...But the sound didn't stop.

If anything, it started sounding worse.

Like something falling.

Something heavy.

That... didn’t sound like a body.

Curious—and slightly concerned—Misaki sighed, pushing themselves up. They dragged their feet as they left their room, rubbing their eyes. The hallway was dark as hell, but they could vaguely make out the shape of their landlord collapsed on the floor.

...What.

What.

Panic immediately shot through their body.

"OH, SHIT."

They rushed forward, kneeling beside them. "HEY, HEY, WAKE UP—WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?"

Their landlord groaned, eyes fluttering open. They looked **even worse than usual—**which was impressive, considering they always looked like they’d been awake for seventy-two hours straight.

Misaki frowned. “Dude, what the hell? You okay?”

Their landlord sighed.

Then, in a deep, tired, deadpan voice, they muttered:

"I hate my job."

…

Misaki blinked.

"Bro, you just fainted. Are you dying?"

"No. I just hate my job."

"Okay, but like. Why."

Their landlord slowly sat up, rubbing their face. "Because it's hell."

"That’s not a reason."

They groaned, dragging a hand down their face. "I deal with the dumbest people imaginable. Every day. Just absolute idiots. My boss is a parasite. My coworkers are stupid. And my clients? Even worse."

Misaki hummed. “Sounds like hell, alright.”

Their landlord exhaled sharply. “I swear, I would rather be—” They suddenly froze, seeming to remember who they were talking to.

A fellow criminal.

A fellow killer.

Someone who would absolutely call them out.

They cleared their throat. “Uh. Metaphorically.”

Misaki snorted. “Sure, sure. Totally not suspicious.”

Their landlord just groaned.

They looked so done with life. So exhausted. So miserable.

And—ugh. Misaki was starting to feel bad.

Like, yeah, their landlord was a murderous cannibal, but they are nice!

Misaki sighed as they trudged toward the kitchen, rubbing their face. The day had already been too much, and now they had to figure out what to cook for you, of all people.

You, the psychotic, dead-eyed, possibly-a-murderer-but-still-weirdly-chill roommate.

Still, they did feel kinda bad for you. Not bad enough to ignore the human meat in the fridge, but bad enough to cook something edible.

They pushed the kitchen door open—

Only to suddenly get shoved against the table.

Their back hit the surface with a dull thud, and before they could even process what happened, there you were.

Standing over them.

Looking at them.

STUDYING them.

Like a damn predator.

Misaki’s heart jumped. Their entire body locked up, every survival instinct they had screaming at them to run.

And then—

Then, their eyes drifted down.

And they saw the shirt you were wearing.

They blinked.

Once.

Twice.

HUMAN BY CHANCE, ALPHA BY CHOICE.

They just stared.

Dead.

Silent.

As if their soul had physically left their body.

Three full seconds passed before they finally spoke.

“…You cannot be serious.”

You tilted your head. “What?”

Misaki slowly lifted a hand and pointed. “THAT. WHAT YOU’RE WEARING.”

You glanced down at the godforsaken t-shirt, completely unbothered. “Oh. It was on sale.”

“OF COURSE IT WAS.”

“I think it’s funny.”

“IT’S NOT.”

You ignored their entire reaction. Instead, you just stared at them again.

And then you spoke.

“You look really delicious right now.”

Misaki blinked.

They froze.

Their brain completely short-circuited.

“…Th-thanks? I try?” They ran a hand through their hair, suddenly hyper-aware of their own appearance. “I mean, I thought I was average-looking, but—”

Wait.

WAIT.

HOLD ON.

Their brain finally caught up with the situation.

Misaki jerked back in horror.

“BRO. I’M NOT FOOD. GET THE HELL OUT.”

You snorted. “Relax. I promised I wouldn’t eat you.”

Misaki squinted. “That doesn’t make this less creepy.”

“I just wanted to take a look at you.”

“FOR WHAT?!”

You shrugged. Your eyes scanned them, like you were inspecting something. Calculating.

Then, suddenly—

“What’s with the gun?”

Misaki stiffened.

They immediately reached for their holster, confirming their weapon was still there. “...What?”

“You’re armed,” you said simply. “Why?”

Misaki scowled. “Uh, duh, I’m not stupid? I just moved in with a cannibal. You think I wouldn’t bring a gun?”

You blinked. Then, without hesitation—

“What kind of a killer are you?”

“EXCUSE ME?”

You gestured vaguely. “You’re clearly trained. What’s your thing?”

Misaki’s eye twitched.

“…I’m an assassin.”

You stared.

“…Oh.”

Silence.

More silence.

Then—

“So you’re bad too.”

Misaki threw their hands up. “OH, AND YOU’RE SO SAINTLY?”

“No, I’m just saying. You kill people too.”

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN WE’RE THE SAME.”

You tilted your head, watching them. “Why do you do it?”

Misaki exhaled sharply. “Because I’m broke.”

“...That’s it?”

“I have debts.” They crossed their arms. “Paying for my parents.”

You froze.

The air shifted.

For the first time, you didn’t have anything to say.

Misaki narrowed their eyes. “What? Surprised?”

“…No.” Your voice was quieter now.

Misaki was still standing in the kitchen, arms crossed, replaying the last five minutes of their life in their head like a buffering video.

What the hell just happened?

They had been ready to make you food because, surprise surprise, even unhinged serial killer cannibals needed to eat actual meals sometimes. Then, suddenly, BAM. They got slammed against the table, stared at like a premium cut of wagyu steak, and then hit with the existential crisis of realizing their creepy, horrifying, serial-killer housemate might not be as emotionless and dead inside as they originally thought.

And now? Now, they were standing there, hands in their pockets, watching as you wandered back into the kitchen like nothing happened.

Like you hadn’t just acted like some kind of deranged, sleep-deprived maniac in a cursed T-shirt.

You looked at them, tilting your head slightly, before rubbing the back of your neck.

“...Maybe I’ve fallen for you.”

Misaki choked on their own spit.

“I’M SORRY, WHAT—”

You sighed like this was some grand, tragic confession instead of the most batshit insane thing you could possibly say at this moment.

“I usually eat my housemates,” you said casually.

“EXCUSE ME?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Two so far. Both gone in a day.”

Misaki took a full step back. “What the actual—”

“But you feel different,” you continued, like you hadn’t just admitted to literal cannibalistic homicide. “I don’t want to eat you.”

“Oh, WHAT A RELIEF.”

“You make me feel… energized.” You stared at them, brows furrowed slightly, like you were still trying to figure it out yourself.

Misaki swallowed, every muscle in their body tense. Should they be running? Because they should probably be running.

And then—

“So, do you want to eat together?”

Misaki blinked.

“Do I want to—HELL NO.”

You shrugged, completely unfazed. “Okay.”

Silence.

Then you tilted your head, as if a new idea suddenly popped into your deranged little mind.

“Do you want to be lovers?”

Misaki’s brain blue-screened.

“WHAT.”

You nodded, still way too casual about this whole thing. “Lovers. Dating. Romance. That stuff.”

Misaki stared at you.

Long.

Hard.

As if staring at you long enough would force you to make sense.

It did not.

“What the actual hell are you talking about.”

“I’m saying we should date,” you said, blinking at them like they were the weird one here.

Misaki took another step back. “WE HAVEN’T EVEN BONDED.”

“Okay,” you said with a slow nod, like you were completely open to negotiation.

“Okay?”

“Do you want to marry me instead?”

“WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. HELL.”

You just blinked at them again, waiting for a response like this was some totally normal topic of conversation.

Misaki dragged a hand down their face. “Dude. We haven’t even—WHY is that the next logical step?!”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But I am falling for you.”

“OH MY GOD.”

Silence.

More silence.

And then, as if suddenly struck with divine inspiration, Misaki sighed deeply and crossed their arms. “Fine.”

You tilted your head.

Misaki smirked. “I’ll give you a challenge.”

You raised a brow. “A challenge?”

“Yeah,” they said, grinning. “February. It’s the month of love, right?”

You just nodded.

Misaki leaned in, poking your forehead lightly. “You wanna win my heart? You got one month to make me like you back.”

You stared at them, processing.

Misaki’s smirk grew. “And if I do like you by the end of February, then maaaybe we’ll talk about this ‘lovers’ thing.”

You were quiet for a long moment.

Then, with that same exhausted, dead-eyed expression, you nodded.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You nodded again. “Yeah. Also, you don’t have to pay rent for February.”

Misaki paused.

“...Wait. Hold up. What?”

“No rent,” you repeated. “February’s free.”

Their eyes narrowed. “Are you… bribing me?”

“Yes.”

Misaki grinned. 'Okay!'

IT'S NOT OKAY

Misaki collapsed onto their bed like a ragdoll, face buried in their pillow as their entire soul reeled from the conversation they just had.

What the hell was happening.

They had moved in less than a week ago. Found out their landlord was a literal serial killer/cannibal. Somehow weren’t dead yet. And now?? Now their psychotic, sleep-deprived, blood-covered housemate was falling for them??

What kind of romantic horror-comedy bullshit was this??

And worse, WHY was the rent-free month kinda tempting?!

Misaki groaned into their pillow before rolling over and grabbing their phone. They needed backup. NOW.

They dialed The Chaos Hotline.

Aka: Angel, Ronin, and V.

Within seconds, V picked up.

“Misaki,” V said immediately, tone suspicious. “You never call. What happened.”

Ronin’s voice piped in from the background. “Oh, oh, is this about the cannibal landlord? Are they hot?”

Misaki sat up. “WHY is that your first question?!”

“Because it’s important.”

Angel sighed. “Misaki, please tell me you didn’t get into a hostage situation again.”

“No! I mean—maybe?! I don’t know!” Misaki ran a hand through their hair. “Okay, LISTEN. They—they confessed to me.”

Silence.

Then—

“What?” V sounded like Misaki just committed a war crime.

“LMAO” – Ronin.

“Holy shit.” – Angel.

Misaki flopped back on the bed. “I don’t know how it happened!! One second they were staring at me like a five-star wagyu steak, and the next they were like, ‘I think I’m falling for you.’”

Angel gasped. “You made the serial killer catch feelings?”

Ronin wheezed. “BASED.”

V was not having it. “Misaki. Get. Out.”

“Dude, they said I don’t have to pay rent for February.”

“STAY.” – Ronin.

“OH MY GOD.” – V.

Angel hummed. “So… ”

Misaki clenched their fists. “STOP ASKING THAT.”

“Which means yes,” Angel said smugly.

“I—LOOK. I MAY HAVE SLIPPED AND CALLED THEM HOT, OKAY?!”

More silence.

Then:

Ronin. Wheezing. “You—YOU LIKE THEM TOO, DON’T YOU?!”

Misaki exploded. “I DO NOT LIKE THEM BACK. I JUST THINK THEY LOOK KINDA HOT COVERED IN BLOOD. IT’S AESTHETICALLY PLEASING, OKAY?!”

V. Exasperated. “MISAKI.”

“I’M NOT.”

“You’re literally getting romanced by a serial killer, and you’re already calling them hot when they’re covered in human remains.”

Misaki groaned. “This is not happening. This is a stress response.”

Ronin snorted. “Sure, buddy. Keep telling yourself that.”

V sounded done. “Okay, so what’s your plan? Because if they’re a serial killer, you probably shouldn’t lead them on.”

Misaki hesitated.

“…I may or may not have made a deal.”

Angel perked up. “Oh?”

Misaki winced. “I told them… that if they can make me fall for them by the end of February, then maybe we can talk about the ‘lovers’ thing.”

Silence.

Then:

Ronin. Losing their absolute shit. “MISAKI, WHAT THE HELL?!”

Angel cackling. “THIS IS A ROM-COM.”

V. “MISAKI, THAT’S NOT HOW YOU HANDLE A CANNIBAL KILLER.”

“I PANICKED, OKAY?!?!”

Ronin was dying. “You gave a cannibal a dating challenge?!”

“Yes??”

“Bro.”

Misaki groaned, covering their face. What the hell was their life.

Angel giggled. “So what’s their next move, you think? Romantic dinner date? Valentine’s Day surprise? Ooo, what if they give you a human heart in a box?!”

Misaki shuddered. “PLEASE don’t manifest that into the universe.”

V sighed. “You need to be careful, Misaki. If they actually get attached, that’s dangerous.”

Misaki huffed. “Relax. I got this. I’ll make sure they fall out of love before the month ends.”

Ronin snorted. “Or you’ll fall for them first.”

Misaki scowled. “No chance in hell.”

Angel smirked. “We’ll see.”

[emmabirb8]

Ah, okay, I'm starting to get the picture. It's a “piss on the poor” reading comprehension and lack of critical thinking issue, plus people just taking things too seriously and blowing them WAY out of proportion. (You'd think more people would be able to discern when someone is joking or not being serious about something and have the sense to take things with a grain of salt, but... I guess I give people too much credit, lmao.)

I should've figured as much, but I was just so confused by the MASSIVE difference between how people seem to perceive Jhonen vs the reality of who he actually is that I felt compelled to post about it, lol. 

The Steve Ressel bit, well, I get the impression the guy's just a dick, so that doesn't surprise me. Shame he had a part in starting the rumor though.

Thanks to everyone who responded and shed some light on this for me!

So I've only just recently gotten "back into" Invader Zim after not having watched the show or been involved in fandom stuff related to it since 2011. And as someone who was never knowledgeable about Jhonen Vasquez back then especially, I gotta ask: where did the idea of Jhonen being a "jerk" even come from??

I've been watching his Twitch streams for a few months now, and I am honestly appalled and confused as to how anyone could come to that conclusion. The guy is a total goofball! Hilariously insincere. The very definition of 'sardonic' in human form. Almost everything he says is with his tongue planted firmly in his cheek. He doesn't even take himself seriously! I suppose some people who struggle with tone and social cues might misinterpret him, but you can tell he tries to make it obvious that he's behaving that way on purpose for comedic effect. (And, in my opinion, it works!)

Obviously I don't really know Jhonen, and I've never met him, but personally, I get the impression that he's great. In fact, he's intrigued me to the point of hunting for a decent deal on JTHM online. (Years ago, I assumed it wouldn't be my cup of tea, so I never looked into it, but now I have a feeling I'd really enjoy it.)

Overall, he seems like a genuinely nice, funny, weird dude who likes to do and say weird stuff to (mostly) make people laugh. And like, I also get the impression he's a bit introverted (can definitely relate), but even so, he still goes to conventions every once in a while to meet fans and such. I've never been to one, but a convention looks like an absolute nightmare for people who don't overly enjoy social events and talking to strangers. So that's kind of a big sacrifice of time, energy, and social battery (and money for expenses!) given willingly and fairly frequently in various locations for the sake of fans...

... for someone who's been accused of being a "jerk" who "hates his fans."

Like, truly, ????????

I'm over here thinking "please say sike" because I don't get it. At all. At this point, I'm thoroughly convinced the rumor was just made up. That, or we are not talking about the same guy, lmao.

[tea-the-not-understanding]

HAIIIIII WELCOME TO MY BLOG

Hello!! Welcome to all who somehow found my blog! You all can call me either [ Tea | Star | Mars ] I have many nicknames :] My pronounce are He/Him/They/Them. I'm literally 18+ old. Trans / Ace or Aerosexual and Bisexual.

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And finally, common sense thing that you must know. No Proshipper, Incest, Homophobic, Racial, Slurs, other bad shit, etc...

The tags you can search in my blog. Sometimes you can write cookie name since I write that in the tags too. But the main is

Update : just in case anybody interested. Here are commission information. If you are interested, just send dm me a message, said you saw this and I'll responded. If not then I'll block you, assumed you're one of those scammers. (But not right now, I'm dealing with scammers and school at the same time so the commission is closed at the moment.)

#cookierun

#cookierunoc

#oc

#sona

#shimp

#PMV

#Illustration

[camilamortem]

should I actually write it?

"Good game Opaleye"

"How did you called me?"

"Um, Opaleye"

"I got that part, why?"

"Like the Antipodean Opaleye"

"The dragon? Why?"

"I dunno, you remind me of one"

///

"Oi, Opaleye, found anything?"

"Nothing so far, Charlie"

"I swear Kettleburn loses a creature every week"

"At least we have an excuse to be in the forbidden forest"

"True, maybe this time we'll find an actual dragon egg"

"I'm starting to think your dragon obsession is a therapy call"

"Really?, out of everyone, YOU are pointing who needs therapy"

"Yeah, I recognize issues when I see them, it's like a calling that reunions mental health needs"

"I just like dragons a lot, you are trauma in person, Opaleye"

"Just like dragons a lot?, you are giving people nicknames based on them"

"That's not true"

"You just called me Opaleye "

"Yes, I call you Opaleye, the hell does other people have to do with it?"

"Don't you name others like dragons too?"

"No?"

"Oh"

///

"Merlin, Charlie, I know Gryffindor won the quidditch cup, but that's not a reason to get wasted"

"I'm not wasted just a little tipsy, you are wasted"

"I'm the tipsy one, you are the one who needed help to get to his dorm"

"Shhh, little details"

"Lucky I can't hate you"

"You love me, admit it"

"Do I?"

"Yup, you love a lot, just like I love you, Opaleye"

"Is that so?"

"Absolutely"

"Can I ask you something"

"Anything"

"You call me Opaleye because I remind you of the dragon"

"Yeah"

"Why tho?"

"Apart from the obvious like your spirit and stuff, because of your eyes"

"Charlie, get your facts together, I have dark eyes"

"Don't dare to imply my facts about dragons are wrong ever again"

"Alright, then explain yourself, cause last time I checked, that dragon has white eyes"

"No, their pupils are transparent, there for, light reflecting"

"Alright, our eyes are still opposites"

"Yes, but I don't compare them because they look the same"

"Then why?"

"Cause them both remind me of a sky, you know, a clear sky and a night sky"

"A night sky?"

"Yeah, you said it,you have dark eyes, like the night, plus this little shine in them like a little moon that gets complemented by other little shines the light gives"

"How come you say those kind of things so easy?"

"Don't know, you make it easy"

"You need some sleep, you are saying none senses"

"Am I?,  to me it makes a lot of sense, what doesn't makes sense is that you think it doesn't make sense"

"Goodnight Charlie"

"Stay with me"

"Darling, I'm not even supposed to be in this common room, let alone in your dorm"

"You don't even care about rules, come on, what if I swallow my tongue? "

"Fine, just because dying from swallowing your tongue is too stupid for you die like that "

"There we go, night Opaleye"

"Night, dragon boy"

[iamfuckingsorry]

i'm sorry but like. i played the game for the first time like a month ago (and it absolutely wrecked me, it was beautiful), and i just can't stop thinking about this and i need to get it out. but like, kim, what the fuck is the deal with kim?

like, he's just such a weird little man with such a weird little collection of character traits, but also he's just so fucking perfect.

like, kim. he spent 15 years being a cop in a department he fucking hated but he just stuck it out. he is so done with teens he basically refuses to speak to them unless he absolutely has to, but he still spent 15 fucking years in that section, refusing to give up. he's proud to be a revacholian and to protect the city now, but did he feel this way when he joined the RCM? or did he join to prove to everyone that even a monkey fucker like him could be revacholian? or did he join because he got kicked out of the orphanage he grew up at and didn't have anywhere else to go? or was there a different reason altogether?

and look at him now. he's presumably one of the best cops in his precint (i'm sure he mentions something about this early on in the game but i honestly can't remember), and one that seems to mostly play fair and genuinely care, which doesn't seem to be that common at all. and he's proud of this and strives to always be professional and calm and collected even if he doesn't always fully manage. he keeps himself in check first and foremost, and seems to try to keep everyone at an arm's length and not engage in personal discussions, even though he will often indulge harry if directly asked.

and so far it all makes sense, right? he's been treated like shit all throughout his life, dealt a fairly shitty hand, an orphan, an immigrant, a homo, possibly visually impaired (has he always needed glasses? was he able to get them as a broke-ass kid with no one to speak on his behalf? or did he grow up never able to see properly, struggling in school because he could never read the board or react in time when people threw shit at him, made fun of by both teachers and classmates?), mocked and ridiculed, and he's had to fight hard to get to where he is now. and he desperately needs to keep it this way, so he works hard and sticks to the rules and keeps his distance from people, and he puts a stop to everyone and everything that people could make fun of (no, harry, you will /not/ call me kimball, you will call me Lt kitsuragi, no, harry, you will /not/ tell anyone about the ice bear fridge, i will /not/ be known as the ice bear cop). but he's also mostly a genuinely nice and compassionate person and he really cares, as long as people are at least trying to do good.

but also…

he basically wears period cosplay to work. like. for real, he clearly wears his fucking pilot jacket so often that having the RCM insignia sewn onto it was the most logical choice. he is so obviously into planes and cars (but he's too blind to be a pilot :), do you think he used to hate himself as a kid not only because he was poor and abandoned by everyone and "an immigrant" but also because not even his own fucking body would let him be what he wanted to be), he has an extremely expensive vehicle that's his, his only, and not even really needed for the stuff he does at work the majority of the time. he clearly had to have a chat with his boss at some point in time and justify this purchase and why the car should be permanently assigned to him and him only, and even if i'm sure he had a bunch of actual reasons you can't convince me that his boss and all of his colleagues weren't all aware that really, he just wanted a fast fucking car and had an excuse to get it. and clearly the higher ups like him enough to indulge him, because surely no one would be actually fooled? why would a crime investigator get it and not, like, the fucking traffic guys chasing drunk drivers and illegal racers every night?

and like, in some ways he fucking owns it, doesn't seem to give a fuck, he's who he is and if people don't like it that's not his problem. but he's also embarassed about listening to that fucking radio station. but he also drives a sports car and wears driving gloves and a pilot jacket, of course he's listen to that fucking radio station. but then he also does newspaper crosswords. like, he seems to put a into maintaining this facade of professionality, but he also really doesn't fucking care when it comes to a lot of the stuff, it's great. except for the extremely random stuff that he does care about and can get extremely flustered about momentarily.

and it feels really out of character in a way. he works so hard on keeping himself in check at all times, representing the RCM in a good light and making sure both him and others get treated with the respect they deserve. he smokes one cigarette a day to keep proving to himself he can keep his vices in check, for fuck's sake. but then it's like he just picked one (1) part of his personality where he just went like, fuck it. Fuck it, I work hard for this shit and I deserve to do what I want sometimes too, and this one fucking thing is innocent enough and safe enough, and I don't give a fuck, I deserve /one fucking thing/ and I'm gonna get it. I'm getting the goddamn jacket and the Kineema and if people have a problem with that, they can go fuck themselves. I /need/ this one thing and I. Am. Getting. It.

(it's clearly a big part of his personality, but do you think there were other massive interests in the past, or maybe there still are others he isn't as open about with? Things he thinks would undermine his career and reputation? Past hobbies he abandoned because if anyone found out, that would be the end of his career at the RCM, even though for anyone else who wasn't a stupid fucking immigrant who can't even see right it would be a funny little detail?)

anyway.

i'm just like. stay the way you are, my weird little man. you're great.

[rivetgoth]

im well aware that im so deep in a rabbit hole of my own lifestyle that this is not the way most people feel but honestly it is actually kinda baffling how hostile the concept of nonmonogamy makes people... dare i say i think that it actually makes more sense to be able to comprehend that romance sex and relationships are a fluid and immaterial thing and the different relationships we have can take on an endless number of forms... that monogamy is a construct that barely even successfully categorizes one type of relationship, let alone the majority of them or the "norm"...

like i could take this moment to get into the more radical theoretical work of pointing out that the concept of [heterosexual] monogamous marriage as an institution has historically really been about property ownership, nation building, reproductive control, etc, and to cling to it as the "natural" state of things is point blank regressive, but more than that I just feel that like... monogamy almost feels like it should be seen as the more uncommon out-there thing to me lol; to make the active decision to commit urself romantically and sexually to a single person genuinely feels like much more intense of a lifestyle decision akin to stuff like fulltime BDSM relationships than to live a nonmonogamous life in many ways to me. and mind you "out-there" does NOT have a negative connotation in my vernacular. i am not calling monogamy (the consensual relationship arrangement, not the institution) regressive at all. i think it is genuinely a wonderful act of devotion for those who derive meaning from it. it's just wild how many people on the flip side seem incapable of comprehending nonmonogamy at all and cannot approach it with anything but the worst faith knee jerk reaction and feel some desperate need to justify themselves and their desire for monogamy.

i guess this goes in tandem with my belief that monogamy, and the binary between monogamy and nonmonogamy, is as much a social construct as... anything else, and that all individuals and the relationships they arrange exist on a sort of spectrum; everybody has different limits for what is or is not acceptable behavior. a nonmonogamous couple might have a limit like "kissing anyone is fine but before you have sex with someone else you need to tell me" or "I need to meet them before you have sex with them," but a monogamous couple will have just as many spoken and unspoken rules. "it's okay to express attraction to celebrities / fictional characters," "it's okay to jerk off to things other than me," "it's okay to watch porn as long as you aren't paying any individual adult content creators," couples who come up with their "exceptions" (ex. "we're monogamous but if my GF met Chris Hemsworth I'd let her" kinda shit, waaaaay more common than you'd think), not to mention then things like closed triads which function much more similarly to a traditional monogamous relationship in many ways, friends with benefits and other non-romantic sexual arrangements, non-sexual life partners, swingers and wife swappers—couples that might otherwise call themselves monogamous but who engage in specific nonmonogamous activities—etc... like monogamy only exists as much as the individuals in the relationship choose for it to and call it as such, yknow?

[fountainpenguin]

can i be honest im so intrigued by ur idea of a dev/trev/bev friendgroup even though you mentioned it maybe twice during ur liveposting

i know its mostly cuz they have basically the same name but i think its funny... saddest soppy wet-est kid in the school, some guy with hair in the ugliest shade of green and a girl who loves football and owns a talk show have something in common, somehow

I think we should go all the way and have a Trev, Dev, Bev, and Kev friend squad. And we can add the random kid who's listed on the kindness chart by the name Whatevs. Just call them The Evs.

It's so stupid, but I genuinely am shocked they all have rhyming names and they aren't a background squad. It is ridiculously funny to me that the vibe I get from Hazel's class is that the creators came up with a bunch of Ev names as their filler (with Dev specifically introducing Trev, Bev, and Kev to Hazel when she gets to school) and Dev himself fits this rhyming pattern.

Dev: Dad, I'm one of the youngest kids in my grade... did you just copy the names the other parents gave their children? Dale: Dale: Dale: No.

Even Devin rhymes with Kevin

I feel like Dev and Kev cross paths sometimes since Kev is a child model / the brand face for a popular soft drink. It also makes sense they wouldn't since being a child model and the son of a billionaire are two different things.

But of the people in Dev's class, it is astronomically funny to me that Dev looked at Trev and Bev and said "I want these regulars" and he doesn't seem particularly into hanging out with Kev.

Anyway, whatever this trio and/or quartet has going on cracks me up. I like that Dev and Trev both have a crush on Bev (Trev was distraught when they broke up in the finale due to Anti-Fairies magically setting Bev up with someone else).

Utterly fascinated that A New Wish canon is that Anti-Fairies don't have to follow Da Rules. Logically that makes total sense, but it's still interesting because we didn't see them pushing this angle in the OG series... but this somehow makes Timmy and Vicky unwishing each other's stuff - something godkids aren't supposed to be able to do iirc - that much funnier. Me, ever since I saw the episode: Why can Foop just tell Vicky that Timmy is a godkid? If he's her godparent, he's not allowed to do that; godkids have to cross paths on their own. Me now: Ahhh...... I understand...

I actually went back and watched, and Trev and Bev are definitely better friends with each other than either is with Dev. Trev and Bev are near each other in a lot of the background scenes. We don't really see them interacting, but they do seem to know each other and/or enjoy each other's company, so I thought it was funny when they were apparently dating (holding hands with hearts in eyes) in the finale.

Meanwhile, Dev rarely approaches either of them beyond being pulled into Hazel's Broadway show, where he's a back-up dancer, which isn't necessarily his choice (especially considering how happy he is in the song despite being a jerk in the other scenes... lmao).

- although he did give Bev double pudding when we know he was being super picky about whom he gave it to, which doesn't necessarily mean anything, but I think it's funny.

Oh, I was gonna post a screenshot but I can't because the red lighting on her pudding-slathered body in that scene sets off my hemophobia and that's even BEFORE the zombie stuff, lmao... Just trust me on this- she has a cup in each hand.

And we KNOW the only person she could've gotten the pudding from is Dev, who is confirmed to have hoarded all the pudding cups and was only giving them to people who impressed him. We even see him take one cup away from Jenkins after giving him two, so he was being SUPER picky.

Look at them... They are The Evs...

I just want them to be friends... They all have fun designs and personality... I think they should play on the playground or go to the movies.

sdkljfsd, Dev is the shortest one in this whole picture. Everyone in this class utterly dwarfs him. Which makes sense, because Hazel started school in this show at age 10 and Dev is 9 until the midpoint in Season 1. He's just a little guy...

Like... Does Trev KNOW Dev has a crush on Bev? I can totally imagine Dev watching them date and being like "Hey... wait a minute."

^ The face you make when you just find out your secret crush is dating your secret squish.

- I CANNOT get over the fact that Dev has a canon squish. He just wants to be Trev's friend so badly but he's too shy to talk to him... That's hilarious. I wish we would explore that, because that's not something you usually get to see explored in media. - ... I am lying. Winn is everyone's squish in this episode and that's also canon. Everyone likes Winn, AS THEY SHOULD. Winn is so friendly and kind, even (and especially) when people are nervous around them. - Dev stop having squishes on his entire class challenge (Impossible). - "Multiverse of Jenkins" except every time Hazel walks past Dev, he's head-in-hands-ing over a new person he wants to befriend but screwed up talking to.

Honestly, looking back on "Wellsington Hotellsington" makes me kind of sad because... it's obvious Dev is trying to make friends in the only way he really knows. He's being a brat and a braggart, but at least he was engaging in conversation. This is one of the only episodes (if not THE only) where he makes a real effort.

Tell us how it's really going, Mr. Many Times Bitten, Many Times Shy. Ahaha... he needs to improve himself.

I really like how we see Hazel have to work to make new friends at school and she puts effort in, so we see why people befriend her, and meanwhile Dev is just... consistently not interacting with people and then sitting around upset he has no friends. He is 9.

Anyway, I just think The Evs' dynamic would be funny to explore. It's got everything you need! Dev being the worst! Bev leading them into action, but mostly to soccer-football games! Trev being super supportive and friendly and kind! Those two dating while Dev third wheels and stares into the camera! Idk what Kev does!

I think Dev should just stand in the middle of all his squishes and say "oh no." This would be a 'fic that resolves absolutely nothing because he just vibrates slightly as sweatdrops roll down his face and he's scared to open his mouth, but I would find it funny.

They are just so silly (to me)...

[spindle-girl]

Shade 4.3

gearing up for the Rain interludes by overhearing his cluster's plans and also Moose is there and it's wonderful

“As a rule, it’s not good to ask people about their trigger events,” Sveta said. “As a rule,” Chris said, “It’s vital information about who we’re fighting and why they’re doing what they’re doing.”

it's definitely a dick move, but an important one (also i want deets). Chris is now up there with Kenzie and Ashley for me. the talk right after about people having rules made me remember Amy and Marquis. i know Chris and Amy have more interactions later on, i wonder if part of the reason for that is because Chris thinks he can see that in them and feel like he can act around them accordingly

“I’m probably going to regret saying this, but I’ll stand up for Kenzie,” Chris said.  “It’s going to be shitty if she starts taking apart good work so she can get it done in time, and then Rain doesn’t hold up his end any.  That’s not fair and it’s going to lead to resentment.” “I don’t care about fair,” Kenzie said.  “But thank you, Chris.”

he's probably being honest here, but i wonder if part of him saying this is to make up for grabbing Kenzie's stuff without permission. aww

“They blame me, for the events around the trigger. I’ve told Sveta all of this. The dreams are biased, selective, cherry picking from my perceptions. They make me out to be more of a bad guy than I am.”

i expected Rain to be more catholic guilt about this. i mean, i'm all for the mind whammie explanation when it comes to this sort of stuff and Mathers 100% qualifies, but i'm surprised that it's being accounted for already in the book

“It’s not kiss-kill,” Rain said.  “Or, like Victoria said a few days ago, it’s kiss-kill with good cover.  I’m weaker than them, and the dreams give them a reason to hate me.”

i mean... if they don't know about the mind control, uh. i think they have enough reason to hate you Rain, knowing what happened. i'm with you and all, but unless they didn't actually see you, then the dreams are just hammering the already known point home (and acting as a metaphor for reliving the trauma? dunno enough yet to say)

“Sensed,” I corrected. “The woman- Love Lost, she has the emotion aspect of the power,” Rain said.  “Maybe it includes some emotion sense.  Detecting people.”

oh boy, a mini-Cherish?

“I have an address.  Only pub in Cedar Point, I think.  Across the street from where Prancer went inside.”

one pub? in an entire city?

oh wait, is this like, differentiating between pub and bar? okay, yeah that's more believable

I stepped off the roof, realized that someone was standing on the sidewalk on the far side of the street, staring at me, and saw the alarm on their faces.  I gave them my best heroic salute as I started flying instead of falling from the roof of the two-story building.

fair enough Victoria. pretty funny

The drawback was that he was a twenty-something guy that spent an awful lot of time sitting in a chair with a diaper on, drooling, mumbling, and feeling acutely uncomfortable.  When his power was active, and for a time after, he was unable to act on his knowledge himself, or even to effectively defend himself.  He had been on the side of the good guys, once, which was why his power information was such common knowledge.  Something had changed or snapped.

unless this is a Bitch situation, maybe he got tired of being called Braindead. go figure

Every moment I was here, I was being watched.  My forcefield was down, because having it up risked it damaging the roof, building, or the camera.  The locals were getting time to figure out what to do with me.

being watched is something you can commiserate with the villains at least

“The last time I came, you guys called Tattletale.  She told me to get lost.” “Yup,” Moose said. “To me, hearing that, I’m inclined to think I should show up more,” I said.

seems like saying this will cause problems for your blame Tattletale plan

“So you’ll trounce me.  Thoroughly.  You’ll embarrass me, even.  Not because you’re a girl and I’m a guy, but because you’re strong and you have more experience, and because fighting someone who flies is a massive bother.” “You could surrender.” “Can’t.  Invested in this place.  But there’s more to it, Glory Girl.” “Not my name anymore, by the way.” “Oh, really?  Sorry about that.”

this guy is living that hench life. number three in the group, the muscle, has a nice chat with the hero before getting getting into a fight he knows he's going to lose. it's great

“Good to hear.  Except… can we just skip straight to the part where you leave?  I don’t want to be embarrassed and you don’t want to run scared from a group of menacing looking capes.” “I’m supposed to run scared from you instead, Moose?” “You can knock me around as you make your exit, if you’d like.” “Really?” I asked, a little incredulous. He shrugged.

HE'S GREAT. LOOK AT THIS GUY. 9/5 working villain just wants to clock in clock out and do as little work as possible

theory: Lisa had a run in with this guy back in the day before going to Brockton Bay and held fond memories of meeting the henchiest villain to ever mook only to be severely disappointed when everyone else isn't living life like him

“He ran,” Ashley said, her voice low. “Rain?” “He got spooked,” she said.  “Tristan went after him.”

uh oh

“We want him to face a fate worse than death,” Snag said.  “But we can’t have that and have him dead at the same time, and we need him dead.  If he suffers as much as possible along the way to that conclusion, we’ll be satisfied.”

huh. i thought Rain would already know this. maybe it hit different hearing it from the horse's mouth

End Notes:

don't have much to comment on the cluster meetup with the Speedrunners. i wish i did, but Love Lost didn't do much, Snag mainly talked business, and i don't have much care for the Speedrunners. i can't imagine they'll be more than a preliminary villain to get to Cradle and the rest

Tattletale would do great with a Moose of her own

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for getting mad at my roommates?

A while ago I had to move out of my college apartment due to disagreements with the roommates. I was told I was ignoring boundaries and ignoring their stuff, cited as disagreeable in remediation meetings, and also told my disability was “not able to be accommodated” despite the fact theirs all were.

When I moved in, our roommate agreement as per signed by the university said the kitchen and the dishes within the kitchen were all communal property, and could be used by anyone with permission. It was also stated in the same agreement that responsibility for the management of personal items was one’s own responsibility, IE it was your job to inform someone else if something within the kitchen came with special instructions, or if it should not handle something that the person may be allergic to, like nuts or milk. This was a big deal at our university because someone had died a few years ago from a peanut allergy after their roommate ate peanut butter from some utensils which were not washed properly, and sued the university as a result.

I went on to take these rules as they were written, because I come from a similar culture where the kitchen is a communal space and what is in it is considered as belonging to everyone. I ended up using many of my roommates’ pots and utensils because I was poor and could not afford the same things they had, always with permission and always cleaning up after.

After a while, I ended up being informed by one of my roommates (I had 3) that I was “destroying” one of her pans because I had put it in the dishwasher and it was an “heirloom” from her grandmother. I had asked her multiple times if it was okay, and she always said yes, and the complaint was about that she had mistakenly told me yes and never intended for me to use that. She said I was destroying her property and not taking care of it, even though the pan said dishwasher safe on the bottom in extremely faded letters and i saw no signs of damage whatsoever.

Fast forward a few months, and the rest of my roommates are taking her side. One of them was someone I actually shared a bathroom with, who ended up screaming at me in a hissy fit over me having left two (2) actual literal hairs in the drain. Like not two clumps of hair, but two hairs. I cleaned up the drain every time, but she continued to yell at me for being so “dirty” and “uncivilized”, and the other roommates began joining in on this too.

Everything eventually escalated into arguments because I did not want to take what they were saying lying down. I told them very plainly what the roommate agreement was that we all signed to, and they all told me it was null and void and that they would be changing the terms of it extremely shortly. I told them that this was unfair and that the kitchen should be a common space that is shared, and not gatekept, and that they have a duty to uphold that as we all lived in the same space and managed the same things.

They called me selfish, and said I had no sense of respect for others or responsibility for my actions. Eventually they took this to the RA who told me since I signed the lease last, I would eventually have to leave if everything was not settled. We tried many mediations and many things to settle our differences, but I just kept getting called selfish for explaining where I came from and the cultural differences between me and them and they just kept calling me selfish and destructive.

Am I really the asshole here? It was the first time I’ve ever felt unsafe sharing a space with other people.

What are these acronyms?

[ominous-faechild]

i don't know how to word this, so i'm just gonna say

sammy. breaking the rules. <- that stuff. please elaborate if there is any coherence in this request

I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ACTUALLY SENT AN ASK!!! (people actually do that for non-ask posts???)

Okay, to be completely honest, I think we had a misunderstanding! (I was exhausted when typing that up and was just about to sleep--) I meant that you could/should ask about Sammy, but I wouldn't answer about his magic... but I've done some thinking.

I'll tell you a bit about his magic. 👀

Fair warning: long post!!!

The Way Magic Works™

So, magic. I'll definitely give a much more in-depth explanation one day--I know @honeybewrites REALLY wants one 😂--but I need to give a bit of an explanation here for you to be able to understand why Sammy is Special™.

In my writing, there's technically four different kinds of magic. I describe them as such:

Existential (all-encompassing and literal)

Axiomatic (abstract and "type-casted")

Faerie (abstract and encompassing)

Runic (wizards hurrr durrr)

Each "kind" of magic is named, appropriately, by its source--Existential magic comes from the Existential gods, Axiomatic magic comes from axiom, Faerie magic (or "pure" magic) comes from the Faewildes and is typically associated with faeries, and runic magic originated from the runes non-magical people used in an attempt to match the power of the others.

(I mean, technically runic magic itself is a combination of axiomatic and faerie magic, but--)

Essence Is Equivalent

The one thing all kinds of magic have in common is their shared resource--essence. No matter what kind of magic you use, you're always using up essence in order to do it. The same magical tasks always cost the same amount of essence, meaning the only way to "advance" in magic-casting is to grow your mana pool.

Except for runic magic, but we'll get into that later--

(I hop between using "essence" and "mana" for this explanation, but in-universe it's always called "essence". As a fan of DnD and fantasy games, sometimes using the word "mana" makes more sense to me, haha. Idk if that understanding applies to everyone, but. Essence is essentially just "magical energy".)

Long story short--let's say we have four different people, each with their magic coming from one of each of the different sources. Except, they all have Water magic.

Existential user lifts 1 gram of water. It takes x amount of essence

Axiomatic user lifts 1 gram of water. It takes x essence

Faerie/Pure user lifts 1 gram of water. It takes x essence

Runic user lifts 1 gram of water. It takes .5x essence

Wait, what? Okay, let's try that again--

A different Runic user lifts 1 gram of water. It takes 1.7x essence

A third Runic user lifts 1 gram of water. It takes x essence

What??? What's the deal with that???

Well, this isn't the time to explain Runic magic in-depth, but long story short? Let's just say it's because they're not doing magic "normally". The other kinds of magic users will always use the same amount of essence, so we'll just stop including the variety for now. Just know it'll be the same amount by default. Except... you won't often run into "default" with runic users. Regardless!

Existential user lifts 1 kg of water. It takes 1000x essence

Axiomatic user lifts 1 kg of water. It takes 1000x essence

Faerie/Pure user lifts 1 kg of water. It takes 1000x essence

The first Runic user lifts 1 kg of water. It takes 500x essence

As you can see, it's all equivalent. Both across "types" of magic and in effort-to-gain ratio. So none of them have any sort of advantage!... except literally all of them do.

Similarly, since they're all drawing from essence as their source, there's no "backup" magic system one can use if they run out. If they're out of essence, they're out--nothing they can do.

Actually, wait. I lied. (aka Essence Banks)

There's a way to store essence for later use--essence banks! Basically, they're just magical items infused with essence. They can be literally everything. Except, they aren't everything.

Confused?

Essence Banks were a runic invention and have to be engraved with appropriate runes to be able to contain essence. Some have actually been commodified and turned into "temporary conduits" (aka, items that allow a non-magic user to wield magic like a mage) through people infusing them with their essence.

This is a case where "pure" magic technically separates from a faerie's magic. Pure magic can be used for literally anything, but faeries... well, it's complicated. Regardless, pure magic originates from the Faewildes, but is different from a faerie's magic.

Pure essence can be used for anything, but an individual's essence can only be used for their respective magic type. (Like, elemental / conceptual, not Existential / Axiomatic and such. That explanation's for another day, though.) Pure magic can only be gotten from the Faewildes through the use of runic magic.

People have turned essence banks into commodities by giving them to others who don't have their magic and allowing them to use it. However, as you can probably imagine, essence banks and conduits of both kinds (permanent and temporary) are expennnnnsive!!! Most who have them use them for themselves, to store their own essence to use later.

Just know--there is no way to just "create" essence! It all comes from SOMEWHERE! The most common places are from one's self or from the Faewildes.

Essence Banks Do Not Cross "Types" Of Magic

If someone with fire magic got their hands on an essence bank with essence from someone with water magic in it, they wouldn't be able to utilize it for fire magic--only water magic.

Except... not really.

The fire user could use the essence, it would just cost a lot more of the water essence to instead use fire magic.

Why does this sound familiar...?

Hm. Anyway!

I bet you've been wondering--how does any of this relate to Sammy?

Sammy Breaks The Rules of Magic™

So, now that you have an understanding of how magic works in my stories, you can better appreciate Sammy.

Remember what I just said?

Y'know, about how magic all always costs the same amount of essence, how "types" of essence don't translate well to others, and how essence can't just be created?

Well, Sammy heard that, laughed, and said "I'm built different."

"Amplification" doesn't exist in the world of my stories. There's simply no concept of it because of how inherent the idea of "essence is always equivalent" is to magic.

Except... Sammy is an amplifier.

So what does that mean in the universe of my stories?

He's able to make others' magic use less essence. He's able to enhance their abilities, let them do things they couldn't otherwise do. And it doesn't matter what kind of magic either of them have.

Oh! And since he's the amplifier?

His other magic is also always amplified.

Yeah, long story short? He's OP af. Both as an individual, and as a support character.

CONCLUSION!

I actually can't say any more about amplifying because, omfg, it's actually such a spoiler! As I said to you (almost) yesterday, I plan out the series I write to build up to things I'm going to eventually write! Amplifiers are suuuuper important for a number of reasons and, as I said, they basically don't exist! There's only two others wandering about at the time of Rising From the Ashes (the story Sammy's in)! And one of them is a complete hermit who 99.99% of people have no idea exists!

The other... well. He's actually an avatar. An agent of one of the gods. Who knows if/when he'll ever show up? 👀

If you're curious, the (albeit vague) Overarching Goals™ of the series are as follows:

The Arcane Rifts: explores the Faewildes and some of how they've impacted the world. Specifically explores in-universe political relations of Jhandar and Glavnran; the Existential War; the Existence of Magic; and how the Existential gods mess with the world. Oh... and is Gene's origin story. 😉😘

Sun and Shadow: strongly explores the Faewildes' impact on "the Real World" through their patchworking Lynsmouth into the city it is today. Hints towards plots in RFtA and tCC. Explores faeries themselves through the Major Faerie Characters and the highlights the role of magic in society. Is intended to be an introduction into my weird worldbuilding tbh, haha. Hints at Existential War and is also where a HUGE worldwide-plot event occurs. Thanks, Quinn! 😈

Rising From the Ashes: explores in-universe political relations, more directly builds on the worldbuilding through the character of Kieran Caron and his school, does some more planting in info about the Existential War, and showcases people in-universe trying to experiment with magic and expand on its capabilities.

The Calamity Crew (name to change): lots of worldbuilding through the literal crew of a merchant ship sailing across the world; builds up in-universe local Axiomatic gods; showcases the literal birth of a lesser god and explores the powers and abilities of gods; showcases people in-universe trying to experiment with magic and expand on its capabilities.

I plan to somehow make stories on the Existential gods' avatars, but don't know how I'll go about that, haha. Also intend to probably make some stories REALLY early in the in-universe timeline completely taking place within the Faewildes. Might merge those ideas together, idk.

If you can't tell, the Existential gods are super important to the overarching story I plan on writing, haha. Part of how I'm planning to build them out is through the very fact that they appear everywhere.

Yknow--because they are!

They're the puppeteers manipulating the entire world in their little game. Their Existential War.

To anyone who read through this all--congrats and omfg, thank you so much???

I know this is a lot and not all of it is exactly easy to understand, haha. I wanted to create a magic system that felt magical, but also was planted in "real" stuff like conservation of matter, haha. I want there to be, like, a limit to it, but also for things to have those good 'ole fashioned "fairy tale"/"gods rule over us all" vibes. Hopefully I've done a good job!

Tysm again and feel free to reblog and share!

Tagging list: @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star @aalinaaaaaa

@paeliae-occasionally ; to anyone else, ask and ye shall be added!

Divider from @cafekitsune

[sacredswords]

Hello. Welcome to the blog, sacredswords. Wish I could've gotten us a better url but. Look where we are. hh. So anyways— this blog is dedicated to me and my friends who happen to be chosens of the Swords of Justice. Like. From Unova . We all share this blog so everyone will be posting.

Um, please specify who you're sending parcel to! I'm a little scared how it'll work, and I don't want someones mail to get mixed up— so please just specify! It's me— Sunday— writing this, but everyone else will have intros.

⚔️ Hi. Yeah. Speaking of, Sunday. That's me. Cobalion chose me. No cool powers come from it, I've actually felt worse since then. He/him. 19. Not in college right now, not interested... I'm still a busy guy though.

⚔️ Oh, uhh. My posts are tagged with #slice and dice / legends. watch me. If that isn't obvious, I start my posts with the first two words in blue.

Hiya! My name is Sabre, lovely to meet you!

Pronouns are she/they, I'm 20, and I'm the chosen of Virizion! The best sword, of course! In my very humble opinion anyways <3

You don't get to know about my personal life though. You have to find that out yourself, hehe! Do know my posts are in green though, and if you just do happen to have bad eyes, my posts are tagged with #As leaves fall. Excited to meet you all! ✨

YO! What’s up I’m Finnick chosen of Terrakion and use He/Him pronouns! I’m 18 years old, and definitely the strongest here!

I actually did get a big of super strength from Terrakion which rules! Fresh out of highschool as well! My posts will be tagged with #Finn says

HI. MY NAME IS. Well. uh. ACTUALLY JUST CALL ME SOMETHING TO DO WITH SWORDS!! or like. KEldeo kid. OR somethin. I DUNNO. I HAVE A KELDEO THOUGH SO THATS COOL. workin on. other things. FINNY SAYS THAT HES THE STRONGEST BUT ITS ME. Oh pronouns are. They and them. Or. YEAH THAT. my posts are gonna beee in blue 'n red!

Well. MY tags are gonna beee. something. #Keldeo kicks

open below

hello chat, adon here

welcome to group blog with my friends!!

we wanted to make chosen ocs and look where we are. please keep in mind that some things on a group blog are finicky and i dont exactly expect this to act functional on a website like this. additionally, remember that this is a pkmn irl/rotomblr blog! please keep ( post ) interactions limited to said community

before you interact, each mun is going to specify exactly what interaction or boundaries they have. pleassseee read through them and actually pay mind to them!!!

adon/sunday - hi!! all interaction (mail, malice, m!a) are allowed ... i may be picky with m!a on here though. nothing too nsfw/explicit, im a minor. any trigger warnings for sunday are just terrible/abusive parenting. my hub is @adonverse

castor/sabre - Hello!! I'm Castor, he/they/it, and I run @psn-stalling!!! I'm accepting most mail and whatnot, but will be rather picky with magic anons! Uhhh suggestive stuff is okay, but use common sense and whatnot. :3 Also I will note Sabre's personality is loosely based on another character's from a totally different franchise for sillies so if you end up noticing that that's why <3

somnus/finnick -hallo, so first all interactions are welcome. Suggestive asks will be okay but nothing to bad. If you’re ever unsure on what to say just send an ask :) my main is @somnussayz

Lane/Keldeo Kid - Hullo!!! I except most interaction (mail & malice) but I'm gonna say no on Magic anons, unless they're particularly funny (AND NON-PERMANENT!!) No nsfw/explicit, the kid is. Well. A kid. Haven't decided exactly what is Up with them yet, but there'll probably be some trigger warnings eventually. If something goes untagged and it should be tagged, please let me know, I'm not good at judging that sort of thing. My main is @wandering-lane!

extra notes

them, in the order they were introduced

[raveszonee]

Raveszonee Roleplay

W e l c o m e🕸️ - Feel free to ask questions if you want, read as much information as you want as well and read the rules very carefully.

L o c a t e💬 - I usually roleplay on discord, I’m more active than I am on tumblr and threads. My discord is, (( toji.fushiguuro ))

M D N I🚫 - I don’t want minors here because as an adult, I am not comfortable with roleplaying with anyone younger. I also write smut and thus does not make me comfortable enough to write with anyone under the age of 18. If you’re under 18, please leave.

S M U T🔞 - When writing smut, do not be shy to vocalize what you wish to see during a smut scene and what you don’t want to see. As smut should be comfortable for everyone, kinks you aren’t comfortable with should be listed so I can avoid them from happening.

ROLEPLAY LIST HERE!

Rules - OF - The Blog

No Racism - This is common sense but some people find this okay. This does not stand right or okay with me in the slightest. I have seen so much hate to oc's and writers, mainly the black oc's and writers. Black oc's and writers are welcomed to this blog, completely. As well as everyone else. Everyone is welcomed, keep it that way or get blocked and called out.

No Homophobia/Transphobia - Many oc's and the writers are welcomed here regardless of sexuality and how they identify themselves or their oc's. I have shipped with many oc's. And I am not uncomfortable with it at all. This is a safe space to truly be who you are. You also do not have to give up your identity to me as a writer, I have no desire to dig into your life, as it's fine to be cautious about who you tell.

Triggers - Respecting triggers is a must, I do not want limits passed and uncomfortable aura falling into our talks outside of character and in character. Please vocalize your triggers, this helps me prevent certain events that may trigger you or myself. Triggers are important and everyone should consider them. I do not want to trigger anyone.

No debates - This is something that happens in spaces that aren't open for it. I'm not open for debates. I do not mind you having your opinion, but no political debate is worth losing fun. I want to roleplay to help other people have fun, I really don't like war zones, as everyone has their own opinion and the chances of everyone seeing eye to eye, is slim.

Religions - I don't mind everyone having a religion, it's completely fine, be mindful of someone that might have a Religion they live by. This is something worth considering, and be mindful of some oc's who possibly have strict lifestyles to live by as well as writer. And, don't be afraid to educate me on your Religion if you feel I'm overstepping it or not understanding it. I would love to learn more.

Have fun - Roleplay is meant for entertainment, having fun is something I want you to do. Be open with your ideas and never be afraid to send them to me, or ask me how I feel about them. We can always plot together, have fun!

Educating is okay!

This has to be said! Do not be afraid to educate me or anyone else if you feel no one is understanding your oc. I have shipped with oc's who are blind, deaf, autistic, depressed, etc. They sometimes even have adhd, sensory processing disorder, ptsd, etc.

This stuff is not forbidden to educate one on, if you have an oc you feel you can't use due to this being a lack of education for some writers. Do not be afraid to text me information regarding this. This will help me fully understand your oc and so I can work with writing and shipping with them without making them or you uncomfortable.

Thanks for stopping by my blog! You can roleplay with me through my discord! I am mainly active there but do not be afraid to text me here if you have questions! I hope you enjoy!

[reddanceragain]

Steve Wozniak and Elon Musk should, in theory, have a lot in common–two tech visionaries, each revolutionizing their respective industries. But while Apple built its empire on making things easier for users, Tesla, in Wozniak’s eyes, has been doing the exact opposite. Once an enthusiastic Tesla owner, the Apple co-founder has grown disillusioned with the company and its CEO, and now, he says, Musk has personally shut him out.

Wozniak says his X account was blocked after years of publicly criticizing Musk. He believes his outspoken remarks about failed promises and questionable business practices led to the sudden restriction—despite never violating platform rules.

In a post on Bluesky last month, Wozniak wrote:

"Over years, I have a few times called Musk a liar (across the country by 2016, then 2017) and thief (money for upgrades), on national TV even. Maybe that's why my Twitter account has been blocked for a few months despite violating no rules. I can't get it fixed."

Just days later, during a CNBC interview, Wozniak doubled down, recalling how Musk repeatedly promised Tesla's self-driving technology would be ready by 2016, then pushed it to 2017. He accused Musk of misleading customers and taking their money for software that never delivered.

"He lied to us about driving himself across the country by the end of 2016 and then by the end of 2017," Wozniak said. "And he got money from us—stole money from us—to try to upgrade to the one that would do it, when they wouldn't."

He described his frustration over losing access to X, saying he went through all verification steps but couldn't regain control of his account.

"I follow every single step to prove that I'm real, really who I am, and I can't get it unblocked," he said. "I don't know if they're doing that deliberately, but I never really posted on X, I never ever violated any rule or anything. But maybe it's because I was on the wrong side of Elon."

In 2014, Wozniak was one of Tesla's biggest fans. In an interview with NBC News, he spoke about the Tesla he and his wife had purchased, saying, "We love it more than any other car we have."

But that admiration didn't last. Over time, he's soured on its technology, calling Tesla's user interface "the worst in the world." He described how updates have made basic functions harder, like accessing the glove box or finding turn signals on the yoke steering wheel.

"Nothing makes sense in that car intuitively," he said. "You have to go searching in menus until you stumble into finding it—it's horrible."

Wozniak's account remains blocked, and he claims he hasn't received an explanation. Whether intentional or not, it's clear he believes his public criticism of Musk cost him access to one of the world's largest social media platforms.

===========

FB comment:

First of all, don't ever compare the two to each other ever again. Woz was and still is a visionary, whether he's with Apple or not. Musk was and always will be an opportunist, NOT a visionary. Most of the "visionary" stuff he spews was described decades ago by actual visionaries Like Arthur C. Clarke. He didn't "found" Tesla, regardless of what documents say, because it just isn't so. Every single F$%^&*ing idea he's had he stole from someone else. If you want to compare him to someone, try Thomas Edison.

Yes is old un-updated technology, SpaceX, while making some tangible strides in rocket launches, has failed far more than it has succeeded. The Raptor rocket engine is really well done, but not due to any Elon vision, the engineers the lead SpaceX are responsible for that. The reusable rocket launch vehicle (1st stage only) was the idea of a high school student.

The Boring Co. uses decades old technology. He only formed the company to support his HyperLoop wet dream that is officially dead in the water for years now. His only goal there was to get California to drop their High Speed Rail system between LA and SF. He delayed it for sure, but the rest of the world is far ahead of us in every aspect of transportation, INCLUDING high speed rail service that is actually high speed, reliable, cost effective and affordable for riders between major anchor cities.

His satellite "WEB" is a means of information control, nothing more. Canada, Mexico and Brazil have all cancelled current and future contracts. The Steves saw a rudimentary GUI at Xerox's PARC laboratory and refined it for the Apple II and Macintosh lines. Bill Gates was late to that party as well, even though he saw the GUI demo at the same time, because he really didn't know how to make it work.

Until the 2000's, Windows was always operating on top/in front of MS-DOS. It was always very clunky and inefficient compared to Apple's OS. Musk's claim to fame was a very rudimentary video game and Pay-Pal. He claimed to be a master gamer but has been exposed as a charlatan in that arena as well.. His Ketamine induced wet dreams are all really failures, even his CyberTruck. Full self driving using just visual cameras will never be "a thing" and the rest of the world has already moved far beyond that.

[dravidssideblog]

"Do I really HAVE to reform them? This is such a pain." "It would be a lot easier if you had kept their soul together." "They're PREY, I don't bother holding onto my food's soul." "Okay, if you're going to live here, you seriously need a lesson on vore etiquette." "Etiquette? I'm a predator, I eat people, there's no etiquette for eating people." "There is here, and it's the reason why prey is so easy to catch. It's also the reason why there's no consequences, so unless you want this to be a repeat of what happened back at your home town, you're going to learn it." "Ugh, fine, whatever, I just gotta reform any prey I eat, right?" "Yes, absolutely, but there's more than just that. For one, you can't hurt prey while eating them, so next time watch it with the teeth and claws." "What?! That's ridiculous, how am I supposed to subdue my meal?" "You don't have to, because the prey can't hurt you either." "… Okay…" "Second, you can't keep prey for any longer than a week. Doesn't matter if you digest them or just keep them inside, after a week, you gotta reform them or let them go." "Eh, that's fine, I guess. Not much of a long-term guy anyhow." "You can't eat someone with a prey in their belly." "Wait a sec, that means that if I catch a prey, no one can eat me? That sounds pretty nice! Hanging out with other preds was always too risky before…" "If you eat a prey who's with a group, you have to offer to eat the rest of the group too." "Wait what? Offer? This one does make sense…" "Well, if a group of friends are hanging out together, it'd be rude to separate one from the rest. You can still eat them, of course, but if the others want to join their buddy in your belly, you have to eat them too." "If they… want to? That's common enough that there's an etiquette rule about it?" "Yeah. Reformation is guaranteed, remember? Makes prey a lot less opposed to getting eaten." "Huh… And to be clear, even if they don't want to, I can still eat the whole group anyway right?" "Right. Another thing, you can't break into someone's home to eat them. Well, you shouldn't break into people's homes in general, that's rude, but I felt like I should specify to you. Homes are a safe zone." "A safe zone, huh? Sounds annoying… What if they invite me in? That's not breaking in, right?" "Yeah, if you invite a pred into your house you're kinda accepting the risk of getting eaten. But if you're just relaxing in your house, you shouldn't have to worry about someone sneaking in to eat you." "… Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice. Okay, what else?" "Uh… Oh, some prey and preds here have committed relationships." "What, like, preys dating preds!?" "Kinda, except instead of dating its dinner." "Dinner dates." "Yeah. Anyway, you can't eat someone's committed prey without the pred's permission. The pred also can't eat other prey without their prey's permission, but I doubt that'll ever come up for you." "Couldn't a prey just lie and say 'oh yeah I totally have a predfriend, they're from another town, you wouldn't know them, but yeah I'm taken sorry!'" "How did you know they're called 'predfriends'?" "Wait that's actually what they're called? Dude I was joking!" "Well, anyway, a prey lying about that would also be a break of etiquette. If you really think they're lying, I guess you can call their bluff and eat them anyway, but don't be surprised when their pred comes to punch your lights out." "Yeesh, alright, fine. Hey, you mentioned before that prey aren't allowed to hurt preds trying to eat them? Are there any other rules like that?" "Yeah! You mentioned, like, lacing clothes with chemicals or something to stop preds from eating you by making you taste bad? That kinda stuff isn't allowed." "Niiice." "There's also rules about when it's acceptable for a prey to force themself down a pred's throat, but-" "There are prey that do that!? That's awesome!" "Yeah I figured you wouldn't mind that."