#I need so much bleach just to remove this from my brain

[so-mordor-itis]

I SAW THE PROMPT LIST AND

“can’t sleep?” + “promise me you’re still gonna be here when I wake up.”

for our boy leon..

- yes to heaven anon 🤍

Man I thought of an idea and I definitely couldn't get it out of my head so I hope you enjoy this <3

Reader and Leon are from Eye on You

I changed up the prompt a little bit I hope that's okay!

"Hush, love, close your eyes and in sleep abide"

1998

Cold air blew across your shoulders the moment you entered the hospital room. Heavy bleach and the smell of utensils wafted through you, making your shoulders sag. It was hard not to be nervous in a room where the most urgent news was carried, where the bloodied and sickly were told how their life might end. You fiddled with the helm of your sleeve when you saw Leon under the thin, blue sheets of a bed, the sky blue of a hospital gown underneath bandages scattering from his shoulder to his chest.

You immediately hated the image of it.

His eyes were closed, and you had hoped he was getting the rest he needed.

Visitors besides family weren't allowed past 8, but you fibbled a little, stating you were his lover and definitely considered family. It wasn't a full lie since he did ask you out, but you knew he would ask questions when he was more aware of what you did. You'd walk across that bridge when you'd get there.

You sat in a chair beside his bed. It groaned as you did. You sighed a little of relief when it didn't disturb his slumber. Part of you wanted to take in the peace before the storm, before he opened up the can of worms and told you what exactly happened to him. A deep pit formed in your stomach at the possibilities. The wound on his shoulder wasn't ordinary. You weren't stupid.

Regardless of what would happen next, you'd be there for him.

You bit your lip to prevent yourself from laughing at your boldness. Since when had you grown so attached to him?

You shook your thoughts away. None of that mattered. You strapped yourself in this ride, and you would see it through.

You scooted your chair closer to brush some stray bangs from his face. Your heart nearly gave out when he shuffled closer.

Yep, you were strapped in for good.

2005

You didn't really dream anymore. Visions of fantasies created from your own consciousness were replaced with memories. Most were pleasant; your high school graduation, when you first met Leon--before the mess with Raccoon City. That one wasn't as often as it used to be. Perhaps now because you found tranquility with everything. How he went from this springy, happy-go-lucky man to someone who was more guarded but still had that young man deep down. Leon just only showed him to those he trusted. You probably were allowed to gaze at that young man more than others.

Your eyes fluttered open with disagreeable ease, a stinging sensation crowded around them once the realization you were awake kicked in. You moved your legs a little in an attempt to find comfort, but a small barrier from behind made it difficult. You couldn't help the smile forming on your lips.

Protective arms wrapped around your form, creating a cage. One leg was propped against your own, the other beneath. Over the years, Leon made it a habit of being as close as he could get, and while you didn't mind this, he sometimes didn't realize how much of a human space heater he was. You always felt safe despite that.

You wanted to stay in this position to feel his gentle breathing and let it lull you back to sleep as if it were a lullaby, but the urge to remove yourself and stretch your legs became more palpable.

However, you knew what would happen the moment you detached yourself from his cage. Leon would immediately know--an alarm would sound in his brain, and he'd wake up to empty arms and immediately search for you like a lost puppy. You'd then feel guilty for waking him. This song and dance had been done more than once.

Your mind and body fought for a second, but ultimately, your body won the argument. You shuffled your way out of his arms and sat up, your vision still adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom. An image from the recent memory that woke you flashed in your mind, and you frowned.

Not what you wanted to see.

You crossed the threshold to access the kitchen. The clock on the stove glared 4:35 at you. You grabbed a plastic cup from a cupboard and filled it as quietly as you could. You took a sip as you tossed a glance toward the archway that led to the living room.

After nearly 7 years together, you knew his mind and his thought process. You had your own Leon clock planted inside your head, and it made you wonder if he had one for you in his own.

Any minute now. You thought, guilted poked at your chest. You truly hated waking him up. While it gave you ingress to his sleepy voice and pillow-made messy hair, he desperately deserved rest.

You took another sip and frowned again. Of all memories that could've popped up, why that one? The one of him in a hospital bed, bloodied arm wrapped in a guaze, pale face from all the medications he was pumped with. It wasn't your favorite memory for good reason.

As if right on cue, you heard shuffling and a yawn. "Baby?" Leon called, his voice still loopy. Nearly 30, and he still sounded so young when he was filled with sleep.

"In here," you uttered, your own voice hoarse. "Just getting water."

More shuffling, and finally, he emerged from the darkness of the hallway. He dirty blond hair was askew, and he blinked as his own eyes were adjusting to the dim lighting of night. You showed him a simper. "I woke you up again, sorry." His vulnerability still made you feel silly butterflies.

Leon just shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Couldn't sleep?"

You shrugged. "Just needed water. I didn't have a nightmare, if that's what you're asking."

"Just making sure you're okay."

"I thought that was my job." You teased. He returned your grin with a small smile of his own.

"If you're not in need of comfort, then it's back to bed for you."

"What, am I in trouble?"

"Big time. I could be cuddling you right now, but no." Leon had approached you to tilt your head to him so he could kiss it.

"Hmm, maybe I'll stay up longer."

"Nope, not an option."

"Huh -" You placed the cup in the sink, paying him no mind, before he picked you up like a sack of potatoes, lifting you by your legs so you hung over his shoulder with ease. "Leon!" You didn't fight back, only smacked his arm lightly.

He didn't say anything as he playfully put you back on your side of the bed. Leon pulled you closer to him, mimicking the same position you were in previously, only this time he was facing you now. "That's better."

"What are you a teenager?"

"At heart."

You slumped in defeat, and he felt it. He chuckled as you snuggled into his chest. "Carrying me was unnecessary." You grumbled.

You wouldn't tell him about the memory. You didn't need to. It was a part of your past, a piece of a puzzle that began the shape of your life, but it shouldn't be brought up. Not anymore, at least.

You were with him now. He wasn't bloodied and bruised. His shoulder didn't carry a bullet.

Leon was alive.

That's all that mattered.

And you would be there when he woke up, just as he would for you.

~

|Tags:|

@seraphiism , @uhlunaro , @unhealthy-leon-brainrot , @mandalhoerian , @honeyfict , @konigbabe , @inaflashimagine , @boundinparchment , @justanother-fic , @izuniias , @leonskillshot ,

[thepunkmuppet]

UNHOLYVERSE CLOSING THOUGHTS YIPPEEEE YIPPEE YIPPEE

it’s 1am and I’ve finished it :)

the plot was fucking amazing as was the writing, it was like a really really good tv show, or maybe an amazing movie (pt1) and its slightly more deranged sequel (pt2 and 3). I think I definitely preferred all things unholy as a whole, but yeah the next parts really did feel very sequel-like, in that the first one was The Story and the second and third were building on that first core story, expanding the characters and world. which ummmm btw the lore is insane??? so much going on lmfao but I think it all worked really well. the fallout boy stuff was fucking wild though icl because WHAT ��� I’m also obsessed with the idea of god talking to frank in the form of the cardinal dream, that worked soooo well and still leaving it open at the end is great. I’m so glad frank and gerard got a happy ending, I ship those stupid twats SO hard I’m literally clawing at the walls they make me INSANE RRAAHHHH!!! icl I really didn’t care about mikey and ray’s romance like at all but it worked as a source of conflict and was pretty cute

I kind of forgot it was meant to be mcr fanfic for a while lmfao, which brings me on to I guess the most important part which is my main takeaway on the whole rpf thing

as I’ve said in a post before, I really struggle to picture voices and faces accurately in my head when reading. well except when it comes to buffyverse characters, but that’s just because those shows are so deeply ingrained into my psyche forever that istg I could literally channel buffy summers at this point and just become her. lmfao but yeah I really struggle with that! so when I’m reading, I just kind of create a vibe, a vague mind’s-eye image of a character, it’s very hard to explain. so for me these frank, gerard, mikey, etc characters were subconsciously already way far removed from the real people, like I had to consciously make an effort to make them sound and look exactly like them in my head. but like I said, it felt like a real piece of media like a tv show or something, so to me the unholyverse characters are just that - characters. it really felt like mcr playing movie roles lmfao which I was perfectly happy with. the romance and other relationships were written soooooo well, the real problem was ofc the smut!

I don’t like smut in general, not in a judgy or censor-y way, I just get no joy or kick out of reading it and all it does is make me feel awkward. but with rpf smut, even though I see unholyverse frank and gerard as fictional characters, I can’t ignore the fact that THIS IS FULLY EXPLICIT WHAT IS ESSENTIALLY PORN BEING WRITTEN ABOUT REAL PEOPLE 💀 read it write it all you want, personally I find it uncomfortable and it just doesn’t do anything for me. made me think too much about the fact that it WAS rpf, yk?? got me thinking about the real frank and gerard and how fucking weird it would be to read smth like that about yourself idk, also the fact they have wives and kids…. 😟 gosh idk it was very very well-written smut, it just made me so icked out the more I thought about it

but anyway, OVERALL: I loved it. it was so good, will definitely reread, bookmark, and think about it for a very very very long time. possibly scream and cry and tear my hair out too, idk. part 1 was my favourite by a long shot, it’s so iconic, and feels pretty removed from parts 2 and 3 in a nice way that makes it feel like a movie and its strange sequel. I’ve discovered I like rpf when it’s good and when it’s a complete au and the people feel like original fictional characters in their own right. I don’t enjoy rpf smut, though, AT ALL, which isn’t a surprise bc I don’t enjoy smut in general, the rpf aspect just made it way more uncomfy for me personally. kind of feel the need now to bleach my brain out and consume normal mcr content just to remind myself of the disconnect between unholyverse frerard and the real people lmfao

OH ALSO THAT

I do NOT ship frerard irl, that shit’s fucking weird don’t do it. yes there is a difference between fic like this and saying two married friends and colleagues in real life are actually in love with and attracted to each other. I do for sure ship unholyverse frerard, as I’ve said they’re fictional characters to me

[astoldbyaja]

Primal - Ch.8 ~AU Predator (Franchise)~

Nothing was processing in my brain right now. The smell from the dead bears was overwhelming and bound to attract notice somehow. It was so over the top I couldn’t even process the statement this hunter made. I pulled back from him and moved around him now trying to stay clear of the bears. Scorpion watched almost casually.

“Scorpion, I need you to get rid of these bears.” I replied quickly. He shrilled now, a few clicks emitting from him. He tilted his head now, and finally I could see he was looking curiously at me as if asking “why?”. I shook my head. “I can’t have dead animals in my home! You brought them here now just get rid of them!”

The large creature leaned back some and crossed his arms now looking up in thought as if he were thinking. What was there to think about! I needed to clean up all of this blood and fast. The entire scene was causing me more and more stress. If anyone happened to see my home, who knows what could happen. Police coming around was one, especially the detective across from me. Did he understand what could happen if someone saw this? I had to think and think fast.

“If you get rid of these bears for me, I’ll sing to you.” I replied. Now this made him look down at me quickly, eyes seeming alive and filled with excitement? That got his attention for sure. Without anything else he began to scoop up the three bears hoisting them onto his shoulder. He made a straight line toward the balcony. I snapped myself out of my gaze of his visible strength and hurried to the door to open it for him. I looked back at all the blood that was pooled all over the floor then noticed the bear head still on the ground by the door.

“Wait you forgot the-”

But he was gone. I blinked quickly and looked around for any signs of the bears. Nothing. I had to think quick now that I had some time to myself. Without much else, I removed my work clothes, threw on some old clothes I’d be getting rid of, and got to work. I grabbed a trash bag and rolled the bear head into it. I couldn’t believe that alien brought me dead bears. I shook my head and continued to clean. I got my mop and a bucket and got to work on the floors. God it seemed to take forever. I had to keep changing the bucket of soap and water and shooing Pandora away when she kept wanting to dip her paws in some of the blood.

“And where were you when this was happening!” I snapped at her. She just looked at me with innocent eyes. I groaned and continued to mop. Five buckets later, I got all the blood up. I was sweating from stress and cleaning now. I then went over the floor with a mixture of bleach and hot water. My body ached from the bending and then now mopping a lot. I didn’t even know if I should keep this mop and bucket or not. I put them in trash bags too and threw my clothes in there as well. I hurried to my room deciding to look around to make sure there were no other “gifts” left behind. I didn’t see anything. I still checked all over the house to make sure.

There could be no trace of anything strange here. But I found nothing. And now I felt weird searching the house completely naked. I sighed heavily and just walked to my bedroom. I got in the shower and just stood there staring blankly at the showers wall. Aside from the shower, it was quiet enough for me to think of what the hell just happened. Bears. He brought me dead bears as gifts for what, singing to him?

Or was that his species way of courting me to get me to be his… mate?

God this was insane! He brought me dead bears in hopes this would make me agree to be his mate? What the actual hell? Why would he even want me? I’m a human, what on earth did he need a human mate for? Is that what his kind does, takes human mates? Does his species go around just impregnating females of other species? Now it made me wonder what the female hunters were like. Were there even female hunters? Once I was cleaned I had put all my trash bags in the large dumpster at the end of the street and did my best to walk back trying to look normal, because nothing about this part of the day has been normal.

The house smelled like bleach still and I made sure to keep the windows open so it would air out. I sat on the couch just staring at my TV. It was on, but I kept it on mute. I liked having my TV’s on mute. I could see the heat wave that we were in was supposed to clear up in the next few weeks. Thank God.

But now I had the main problem. Scorpion. He is some alien warrior from outer space. He likes to hunt and take trophies, and he wants me, a human, to be his mate. Why? That made no sense. And honestly it scared me. I didn’t know what that meant and I didn’t know what responsibilities being mated to his kind held. Suddenly, a loud thump made me jump and look over at the balcony to hear heavy footsteps entering the home, but no one was there. I never saw a point in locking the balcony doors because it was so high up, and now thinking that he just enters, if I try to lock it he would just break the door something.

Now Scorpion appeared, and I stood up from the couch and faced him. He just stood there cackling low from beneath his mask. Nothing different was on him, no skulls or bodies of other species. But he did have his weapons attached to his armor. He began to approach the couch, and I tensed some watching as he began to approach me so I decided to walk around the opposite side keeping distance between us. He let out a low snarl as if noticing this and when he moved around the couch again, I mimicked his actions until he was behind the couch and I was in front of it. He growled and suddenly jumped over the couch and landed in front of me with a large thud. I jumped again shaking some and with one scaly clawed finger, he pointed right at my neck.

I swallowed some remembering the deal we had, the bears for my voice. Now Scorpion just stood there hovering over me, looking down at me as if waiting. I nodded slowly and began to harmonize Ariel’s voice but he cut me off with another sharp snarl, his head shaking. I paused immediately, and he let out a loud roar and my eyes widened.

“OKAY OKAY!” I yelled needing him to stay quiet. Obviously, he wanted to hear another song. Scorpion removed the tubes from his mask creating a heightened pitch as the air was released, before he removed it, and he looked down at me with intense white eyes. He gave another sharp cackle and I nodded. “You want to hear something else.” He watched me carefully some more, and I just nodded wondering what I should sing. But a different idea popped into my head. It was apparent he was attracted to my voice. Maybe some music would have some type of effect. I glanced at my kitchen counter to see my bluetooth speaker still sitting there. I looked at Scorpion and held up my hands to him. I pointed to the spot he stood.

“Wait. Here.” I said gently. He looked down at the spot my finger pointed to and gave a low shrill in response. I moved over to the counter and his head just followed me. I removed my new phone from my back pocket and cut on the speaker. Immediately my phone connected and I played Moya Brennan’s Tell Me Now only this song was instrumental.

I could feel my heart beating faster in my chest. I glanced over my shoulder to see Scorpion still staring at me, his mandibles twitching some. I hoped this worked. The music was already a few seconds in and as always it was beautiful. The speaker was loud enough for the music to fill the entire room so much, Scorpion immediately looked around with a hiss, even crouching some as if preparing himself to fight. Luckily, he didn’t pull a weapon out. Here goes nothing.

“Long ago your name a shadow in my dreams.” Now he looked at me immediately. “The wild brave still searching. Grayling winds fall apart. I believe your heart.” I began to gently turn to him and take a few steps back over to him, but maintained enough distance between us. Now time for the chorus. Luckily there was still back up singing that went along with the chorus to give me a bit more confidence in singing.

“Tell me now what you see. Tell me what you feel. Now you're here, tell me. Tell me now what you know. Never let me go. Tell me now what you see.” I sang gently. I watched the alien turn to me now, eyes widening some as he seemed to be entranced now in the music, so much he began to approach me. I hoped that was a good thing. The song did not have long lyrics. I might as well see this to the end.

“Hope cries from the hill. The mist clears from your eyes.” Now he stood over me, head tilting from side to side. With his eyes so white, it really did look like he had mist in them. “Your banner will promise. Let's remember the start. I believe your heart.” He was close enough that I could hear that purring again, so much I felt my body already shaking and he wasn’t even touching me.

“Tell me now what you know. Never let me go. Tell me now what you see.”

Before I could process what was happening next, Scorpion suddenly had me in the air, held by my hips. My voiced cracked from the shock, and I suddenly grabbed on to his locks, my brain telling me I couldn’t get a good hold from the armor on his shoulder. But I managed to continue to sing the song as he suddenly began to move about the room with me just walking in no direction it seemed. His eyes were glued to my neck as he slowly leaned in to it. On instinct, I titled my head back again hoping he wasn’t thinking about ripping my throat out because he didn’t like my singing.

“Tell me now what you see. Tell me what you feel. Now you're here, tell me. Tell me now what you know. Never let me go. Tell me now what you see.” I sang, the voices of the background singers echoed around the house combining with my voice to create what felt like an entirely different song. The music finally began to quiet down and eventually the song ended as I didn’t have the playlist on shuffle.

Now I didn’t know what to do as he was just slowly taking steps around the house. Suddenly it felt like gravity left the room as I was suddenly moving fast to the ground. I gave a yelp as I realized Scorpion suddenly dropped to his knees, placed me to the ground, and the sound of my top tearing immediately made my eyes widen.

“WHAT THE HELL!” I yelled out.

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #6: Tape II (Ladybug)

Masterlist

content: lab whump, captivity, defiant whumpee, immortal whumpee, starvation, blood/gore

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Heather wrote the basics down on a scrap sheet of paper, if only to organize her thoughts. Fire. Drowning. Acid. Bullets, again. Everything she could think of, anything that might kill him. Stabbing. Starvation? Dehydration. Poison. Holy water. She wasn’t a religious person anymore, but it couldn’t hurt to check. Asphyxiation. Though that was similar to drowning. Hypothermia. Perhaps removing a different vital organ would do it. Perhaps removing the brain? 

She clicked the pen closed, set it down. It was incredible. She was on the precipice of a discovery. She held the world’s greatest mystery in the palm of her hand. She had trapped lighting in a jar, an angel in a tin can. It was a brilliant stroke of luck, bringing him home. What had first seemed like a terrible mistake was proving to be very useful, indeed.

She had everything she needed in a large black-leather briefcase: her pistol, Jackie’s lighter, a small container of gasoline, a fire extinguisher, a bottle of bleach, a cloth bag she had acquired from a priest—he was surprisingly easy to bribe—and, finally, the largest kitchen knife she owned. It was a start. Heather wanted to test the limits, find out what she was working with here. Nothing too drastic. Not yet, at least. 

The briefcase was heavy, so she dropped it by the basement door before turning the lock. The lights were still out, as she’d left them. It was a petty move, in hindsight, but she hoped it had calmed him down somewhat. He appeared to be asleep in the chair. She switched the lights on.

He jerked to life like a marionette with all its strings gone taut. There was a crash as something tumbled out of his hands. What was he holding? She blinked a few times as he scrambled to pick it up, then pointed it at her like a lance. 

“Let me out,” he hissed, “or die.”

“How dramatic.” She leaned farther into the doorway. “Is that my table? Did you break my table?”

“I’ll do more than just break your table.” He pushed his shoulders back in a pathetic imitation of a fighting stance. “Let me go.”

Yes, that was her table, now broken and toppled over beside him. She did hear a crash earlier. The handcuffs still swung off his wrist and glinted in the light, a strange silver bracelet. Nothing else was broken, thank goodness. If he’d taken to cracking the freezer open, she’d have to spend a pretty penny replacing it.

“No,” Heather said. “I thought we went over this already. Put that thing down. You look ridiculous.”

Jackie didn’t reply. He kept his glare steady, a spotlight focused entirely on her. It was almost flattering, how ready he was to tear her to shreds. It was a compliment, somehow. She had power here. She was a threat.

“That was a good table. Shame.” She clicked her tongue. “I’m not getting you a new one, by the way. Not unless you start behaving. So—”

Without so much as a sound, he charged at her. 

With a violent jerk, she leaned out of the doorway and slammed the door shut. He didn’t stop, no—he ran forward, up the stairs, grabbed the other end and nearly forced it open. She fumbled with the lock and managed to close it before he broke through. 

He kept slamming on the door. A series of short and heavy bangs, coming in quick succession. The frame shuddered with each slam, or Heather’s shock was making her vision blur. Her hands were actually shaking. Her hands never shook. Shaking was for leaves and little girls. She thought, for a lurching moment, that the hinges would snap clean off.

The banging did stop, however, after a minute. She could hear him catching his breath behind the door. “Come on, lady. I wasn’t joking. I’ll kill you. Let me go home.”

She took a deep breath.  “No.”

“You’re an idiot, oh my God.” 

That small sign of exasperation cut all the tension in her body loose. He was still trapped, table leg or no table leg. Who was he kidding? She could do whatever she wanted here. It was a matter of time. She’d convince him to put his weapons down, one way or another. Hell, she’d get him on his knees. For science, of course. Always for science. 

“Look,” Jackie continued on the other side of the door. “You won’t come in here. You can’t. You’re not going to be able to play that little recorder thing and ask me about my maiden name, or whatever it is you want. So.”

“So?” Heather prompted.

“Let me out!” Another bang struck the door. “What other proof do you need?”

“Proof? What are you proving here? I’m not opening that door until you calm down.” She paused, thinking of the best way to twist the words deep under his skin. Searching for the weakness where he’d crack. “You’re helpless, face it.”

“You looked pretty scared,” he growled. “Do you really think this door will last long? Really?”

“Jackie.” She said it softly. “You’re awfully confident for someone locked in my basement. You must be hungry, right? But I don’t think you deserve to eat, not with the way you’ve been acting. I’ll wait until you’re ready to apologize.”

“You’ve been starving me!” Oh. Right. “You haven’t given me anything for a week!”

It was embarrassing, to be honest. There went her impressive speech. Heather had actually forgotten about feeding him. She had meant to give him a granola bar or something, but she had just been so busy, and Heather had been having a lot of fun acquiring all her tools and thinking of new tests. She couldn’t let that show, of course. Mistakes like that were unprofessional to say the least. 

“Well, do you want to eat or not?” Heather snapped.

“No, thanks. You’ll drug it anyway.” 

“So what if I drug it? Food is food.”

She heard him shift slightly. “I don’t need anything from you.”

Heather pressed the bridge of her nose. She took a moment to wind herself down, breathe that unrelenting irritation out. She left her briefcase by the door as she stepped away. “I’ll be back in an hour. Think it over.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

During that hour, Heather acquired the food. Pomegranates. Two pomegranates, cut into quarters. Rich, scarlet skin, bright red seeds inside, with chunks of rough white surrounding it all. Something that Jackie couldn’t possibly think was drugged. He would have no reason not to eat.

"Hello. Are you still in there?"

 “Go die in a hole.” His voice was loud and clear, though flat. She imagined him sitting sprawled across the stairs, table leg carelessly grasped in his hand.

The door was still closed. It was like sitting in a confessional, doing the whole back-and-forth without ever meeting face to face. Though Heather’s childhood memories of church had never been quite so infuriating.

“Aren’t you hungry?” 

“No.” There was a sour edge to his voice.

“I brought food. Put your weapon down. I only want to talk.”

He let out a drawn-out, exaggerated sigh. “Did I ask?”

Heather had never wanted to strangle someone more. “You’ll faint, eventually. Or you’ll fall asleep. I’ll get you, sooner or later. The only difference is whether or not I’ll stick your head in a blender afterwards.”

There was a softer, smaller exhale. The noise of rustling clothes filled the silence like static. “What kind of food?”

“Pomegranates.”

“That’s it?”

That little shit. “Do you want your arm in the blender next?”

“That's not a very nice thing to say.”

Heather paused for a few seconds. “What if I throw in a granola bar?”

“Fine. Deal. Oh my God.” She heard him stand up. “I’ll put the table leg—“

“Leave it on the stairs,” she cut him off. “Go stand in the farthest corner you can find. Don’t move an inch, or you can forget about dinner.”

“Dinner?” he echoed. “What time is it?”

“Time for you to do as you’re told, hm? Chop, chop. Clock’s ticking.”

She heard a dull, wooden thump. There were footsteps, receding as he walked across the room. He cleared his throat, a pointed ahem, though the sound was muffled by their distance. After that, it was silent.

She opened the door, just enough to see through. Yes, he’d done as she’d asked. The table leg lay abandoned at the bottom of the stairs. Looking up, she witnessed his impatient expression across the room. He leaned against the wall with a sullen slump in his shoulders. There were bags under his eyes, an almost gray tint to his skin. Then again, the lighting wasn’t the best down there. He was probably fine. Heather would give him the pomegranate and move on with everything.

He crossed his arms. “Where's the food?”

“It couldn't hurt to have some manners.”

He said nothing, just waited.

“Here,” she said, trying to tone back the harshness in her tone. She walked up to him and handed him the plate.

He stared at it blankly. “Where’s the granola bar?”

“I’ll give it to you later.” She nudged the plate a little closer. “I promise. Now, eat. You’re going to faint if you don’t.” 

His stare shifted to her. “I said I wasn’t hungry.”

“Eat. That wasn’t a request."

To her relief, he took the plate—and then to her dismay, the food was scattered across the floor a moment later. Spilled across the concrete. There were seeds everywhere, like blisters. Deep red and dark scarlet and white in between. Jackie had thrown it there. His expression wasn’t aggressive, only mildly curious. Bored, perhaps. Tired, definitely. He let the plate topple to the ground. It rolled off, settling into stillness with a quiet shudder.

“I see.” Heather brushed her hair out of the way. “Why did you do that?”

He shrugged.

“You’re going to regret it.”

“I’m sure.”

She thought she could see the hint of a smile playing across his lips. Then again, the lighting wasn’t great. Either way, if there was any sympathy or generosity before, it had shriveled up now. A burning hunger had replaced it, winding in her chest until it was taut as a piano wire about to snap. He was clearly trying to make her angry. What other point was there? He was just digging his own grave.

It didn't matter. She had work to do here. She couldn't waste any more time.

She left the room, then retrieved the briefcase and the tape recorder. She entered the basement again. She turned the recorder on. “Tape two. Experiment one.”

“Really.” It was a dry response, not even sarcastic, more… resigned. Or, again, just bored.

“Really.” She bent down and pushed the briefcase latches open. She picked up the pistol before standing up again. “This is merely to confirm a fact. Hold still.”

The bullet went through his heart, or close to it. He flinched, hitting his head on the wall, but that was about all the damage done. He hadn’t even gone unconscious.

Jackie rubbed his head after a split second’s pause. He turned around and plucked the bullet out of the wall, where it had been embedded inside chipped paint. “Do you want this back?”

“Keep it.” She scowled at the pistol and shoved it back in the briefcase. There was no point in firing another shot, when she had already wasted seven rounds on him. “Subject can survive normally lethal injuries, such as bullet wounds. I'll start the second test now.”

“The second test?” He let out a short, scoffing laugh. “Are you going to ask me about my favorite color?”

“Sure.” She slid the kitchen knife out. “What is it, by the way? Blue? It’s almost always blue.”

“No.” He hesitated, as he regarded the knife with confused hostility. “What's that for?”

“Relax.” She stepped forward. “I’m sure this won’t hurt.”

He stepped farther back. His eyes were fixed on the blade, like a viper in a trance, making no move to run but with a tenseness in his posture. “How do you know?”

She came close enough to touch him with the tip of the blade. He could back up no farther, pressed up against the wall. She leaned in and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I don't. Feel free to correct me.”

In one swift motion, Heather brought the knife down into his throat. She jerked it out, and blood followed in its wake. 

She brought it down again, looking to sever an artery. This time, when she slid it out of his cartilage and bone, there was a brief sputtering noise. He attempted to speak. Blood bubbled at the silent, hissing sound. His attempts at breathing came out as dull gasps. He brought a hand to his throat. It lifted and came away covered in deep red. 

He grasped at the wound again, with another strangled attempt at speech. He sunk down the wall. Blood poured out, down his neck, to the curve of his collarbone, to the edge of his shirt. It would stain. Heather would need to clean that later. 

She knelt down. Her hand took his, gently, and pried his fingers away from the raw flesh. She stabbed it again, deeper, a thorough dragging motion through the cords and twine of muscle and skin. His eyes did not flutter close, or look away in a final gesture of peace. On the contrary, they were wide open. Unblinking, unmoving. Even when his body went still with a final, choking sigh. 

It was distracting. She placed her hand over his face and closed them. The blood continued to sputter out.

A glance at her watch proved that the whole affair had taken two minutes. A glance at Jackie proved that he was not moving. Dead, if you will. The silence was uncanny, almost loud in the absence of the bubbling and faint gasping breaths, but with his eyes closed he looked peaceful. 

Heather half-wished he would stay dead this time. It would be a scientific disappointment, but his expression was beautiful. Devoid of anything close to rage, or fear, or grief. Beautiful, in a grotesque and terribly morbid way. How sweet. All her anger dissolved at that sight. She was aware that calling a corpse pretty was not socially acceptable. Well aware. But she would have loved to keep him that way. Preserve him like that. Lay him to rest.

Heather walked away. She returned with a few clean rags. As she waited for the wound to congeal, she sat on the chair a couple paces away and wiped the blood off the knife. Over and over, running the rag across the edge. Five minutes would do it. Then, if he never opened his eyes, she’d throw him into a ditch on the side of the road. She would clean her hands and be done with this whole affair.

When she was younger, she would trap insects in bottles and old boxes, watch them run and panic and eventually die. There was no reason to it, not even a sadistic one. Only curiosity and a lack of hindsight. Once, she’d kept a couple of ladybugs in a glass jar, filled it with sticks and leaves.

They had changed after a week, warped, gone through a strange metamorphosis. She remembered seeing these yellow fuzzy things, larger than any ladybug was meant to be, crawling among the stems. Was it all in her wild imagination? Was it a simple mistake, taking some other insect to be a lucky beetle, when they were really some sort of larva or wasp? In any case, it had scared her so badly that she’d thrown them out the second-storey window. Underneath the guilt was a pure, innocent relief.

But she was not a child anymore, and she could handle whatever happened next. If he didn't die, then that was fine. She would be fine. It was just a matter of seeing things through. She wouldn't give this up so quickly.

Speak of the devil. He opened his eyes. A gasp burst through the quiet. It evened out into heaving breaths, then slowly into a soft and regular rhythm.

“Did it hurt?” She didn’t take her eyes off the knife, though it was clean of blood by now.

“Yeah.” His voice was painfully hoarse. “Bit late to ask that.”

Heather glanced up. Jackie had put a still-bloody hand on his throat, once again. The wound had darkened to a deep maroon, almost black in some places. He let out a shuddering exhale.

“Are you sorry now?”

Death had not dampened his spirit. “For what? Go to hell.”

She shrugged and placed the knife back into the briefcase. “On to the next test, then?”

“No?”

“That was rhetorical. Oh, right.” The tape recorder was still running. “Subject can survive almost any injury. I doubt a different weapon changes things, other than recovery time. Now, come here.”

“Why?”

“Stay on the floor, then.” She lifted the gasoline up in one hand, a clean rag in the other. She walked over and dropped the rag on his face. “Clean that up. There's blood all over your hands.”

Jackie staggered to his feet. The rag fell to the floor. “What’s in the bottle?”

“You ask a lot of questions. Don’t move.” She poured it over his head until he was drenched in the substance. A heavy yet familiar scent filled the room, something like a mechanic’s shop or a started car.

He smacked the bottle away with a sputter. “Hey!” Gasoline dripped from his sleeves onto the floor. She had emptied the entire gallon on him.

“How cute. This used to be yours, do you remember?” She brought the lighter out of her pocket. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Good quality.”

“It was a dollar.” His eyes widened. “Wait, wait. No. You’re not putting that thing near me. Absolutely not.”

“Yes, we’ll just light a blunt, then?” She flicked the lid open. “I’m all out of blunts, unfortunately. Come on. It’ll be interesting.”

“You already know what’s going to happen. What’s the point?”

With a snap of her thumb, the lighter sparked to life. “We don’t know for sure. That’s what science is all about. Testing beyond doubt.”

His eyes darted across the room, then glanced back at a cardboard box. There was a broom sticking out of the top. He lunged for the handle, then spun back to face Heather. He waved the bristles at her face in what was probably meant to be a threatening gesture. 

Heather looked at him.

Jackie looked at her.

Heather lifted the lighter. It wasn’t much, a sliver of flame barely holding on in the oppressive underground atmosphere.

Jackie shifted on his feet. He raised the broom, only slightly.

Heather tipped the lighter over until it reached a bristle. Within seconds, the smoldering and smoking became a blaze, at first only in small sparks, then into rising tongues of it. The dry and brittle handle caught fire before Jackie had time to let go. With a hiss, he dropped the broom, still clutching his palms where the skin had scorched.

It was too late for him, though. The gasoline on his sleeves and skin burst into flames. The fire consumed him like he was nothing more than a scrap of paper. His entire body lit up the room. Like a candle. Like a very disgusting candle. 

As he screamed, Heather stepped over to the fire extinguisher. She propped it up in her arms, ready to go, but didn’t douse him yet. She wanted to see where this went. 

The screams faded to a harsh coughing, then into the hissing and cracking sounds of burning flesh and cloth and leather. It was glorious. The smell was ingrained into every corner, every inch of concrete and chipping paint. The stench of smoke and cooking meat. He collapsed onto the floor, still writhing like a fish pierced on a hook. The places where his skin was still visible were red and raw, although charred blackness spread around the edges. He appeared to almost melt into the ground. When Jackie finally did go still, the flickering of the fire did not cease. Violent shades of red-orange-yellow, a stoplight at full warning, a toxic frog or a traffic cone. On and on and on.

At last, Heather let the extinguisher spray out the flames, as she coughed through the smoke. There were a few burns on the walls, but nothing noticeable on the concrete. Jackie was dead. Not even he could go through that unscathed. 

Something was off, though. Something was still… moving? Was he going through his death throes? Was this a symptom of rigor mortis, an unconscious spasm of muscles?

Jackie—what was left of him, at least—was no more than a charred shape slumped across the floor. That was not what made Heather’s stomach turn. Not the smell either, terrible though it was. Not the memory of his agonized dying screams. No, that was all fine. That irrevocable sensation of horror and disgust dawned on her because Jackie was still breathing.

Oh. It was painful to watch. His chest—or what used to be his chest—still convulsed as the diaphragm rose and fell. Convulsed was the right word. Those were jerky movements, almost inhuman. Alien, unnatural. Corpses weren’t meant to move. It wasn’t right. She couldn’t even recognize his face, and yet...

And yet. How bizarre. Even something like that couldn’t kill him. 

Heather blinked, her heart still stuttering. She turned to the tape recorder with the surprise splattered all over her face. “Subject is still alive. Not awake. I hope. Oh, that would hurt.” She hissed through her teeth. “I suppose I’ll give him a minute—oh sweet baby Jesus—” 

His arm—or the deformed and charred remains of his arm—moved. Then his leg, then his head, lifting slowly. Distorted hollows in the place of eyes stared, like blank slates of charcoal. For a ridiculous moment, Heather thought he might speak. That would be impossible. The lower half of his jaw had been left behind on the ground.

Heather stared at Jackie, her eyes wide and unblinking, lips parted in a half-hearted attempt to talk, too afraid to move but too curious to look away. A morbid fascination had gripped her thoughts. Any reasonable scientist would walk up to inspect him, to perhaps put him out of his misery, but this all seemed unreal to Heather. She couldn’t even speak, let alone walk.

With a dull thud, he collapsed back onto the ground. Chips and flakes of blackened skin littered the floor. Was he—was he shedding? Like a snake? Like a fucking snake? What was he? Nothing human, she thought. Nothing reasonable. Nothing within biological limits. And yet...

And yet. And yet! He was alive. That was the fact of the matter. The skeptic in her needed to suck it up or roll over and die. As Jackie continued to shed, for the lack of a better term, his flesh appeared to reshape itself. It was not entirely unlike fast-motion footage of a blooming flower. Rose petals being pushed apart, buds bursting open. Skin bubbled and expanded, smoothing over all that red rawness. The sound of shifting bone and muscle ripped through the silence. 

Heather managed to look away and grasp the recorder with a trembling hand. “Subject is, ah, healing? I’ll come back with a change of clothes, I think. Maybe a crucifix.” She cleared her throat. “Yes. I’ll return in an hour. That will be fine.”

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

TW: talking about suicide (in detail), suicidal thoughts, depression, mention of physical and sexual abuse, general bad headspace, big trigger warnings. This is a rant, I feel like shit rn

I've never known what it's like to not be suicidal. The first times I remember trying to commit suicide was when I was 4 and tried suffocating myself through training the dog to sit on a pillow put on my face. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) my survival instincts kicked in and the dog would always get down because I'd squirm too much. This was something I tried for months until the dog was removed because he bit a different kid.

One of the things I remember doing growing up to make myself feel better was planning my own death. Since I was 6 or 7 I'd think about how I could kill myself without hurting the people around me. I tried getting run over, I had plans for running away and paying someone to kill me, and a ton of things like that.

In my teens I tried overdosing on painkillers multiple times, I kept a cup of bleach by my bed so I could gamble with my sleepy brain and drink it, I tried starvation and drinking poisonous stuff, and my self harm went from biting and scratching (not where it was visible because by the time I was in grade 3 teachers were doing sleeve checks with me) to cutting.

The thing is is that I'm painfully good at not dying. I have a weird genetic thing where I need to take 2 or 4 times the amount of normal medication for it to have any impact (they couldn't do some surgery on my teeth without locally freezing it because all the drugs and anaesthetics just didn't work. They were at the highest legal doses). Everything I've tried hasn't worked.

But I wasn't the only one trying to kill me. My birth parents, before they abandoned me, used to hold me under water, beat me, starve me, choke me, etc. After that I was in the foster care system and bounced from place to place. The various foster siblings I had also came from fucked places and did some fucked things themselves. I've had multiple siblings who wanted and actively tried to kill me multiple times (usually drowning, but some choking, suffocation, knives, getting into "accidents", stuff like that).

I've also had a bully at school threaten to kill me me and actively tried. I don't know what it is about myself that leads to this but I give off an aura that makes people want to kill me. But somehow, despite all this, I've managed to stay alive. Even though I've actively fought to die.

I've never learned what it's like to have innocence or peace or to not be fighting for my life. I don't know how to not want to kill myself and still my biggest comfort mechanism is thinking and/or planning different ways I can die. It's the one thing that's remained constant in my whole life. It's one of the first things I learned how to do that was in my control and the thoughts of my eventual death is more comforting than another person has ever been.

I have and never have had any goals in life, ambitions, desires, heros or people I look up to, etc. I don't know why I exist other than to spite death at this point. I've forgotten the number of times I've tried to kill myself, and I didn't even know how to count when people first started trying to kill me. That number is so high that I genuinely feel uncomfortable around people who haven't tried killing me at least once. It's that normal to me.

I'm not going to try committing suicide because I know it's pointless and I'm too good at not dying lol, and please do not think I'm telling you any of this to say "these are my last words". I am not going to kill myself and this is not an emergency.

I just feel so lost and worthless. I have no goals and am stuck in this weird space where I'm alive physically but stuck in my head.

I wonder what it's like to live a life where death wasn't a constant. I knew about death before I learned how to speak. I was an "easy child to raise" because I thought any adult would kill me if I did anything they didn't like. I still feel like that sometimes and it fucks up my ability to socialize. For some reason people treat me like a kid still even though I'm officially an adult now. They talk down to me but don't listen to me.

I have no access to help and am hiding from some abusive people. I have no friends and no one that actually cares about me. I don't know where I'm going with this, I just needed to get it off my chest.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been going through. You've been through a lot, and I see you. Please know that we care about you, and you matter.

I wish I could find it but there's this flowchart I saw once, perhaps during my QPR training, that showed the stages of a suicide attempt, including different stages of bargaining, as well as instinctual survival instincts that naturally fight to stay alive that's represented as a final wall. I bring this up because of being "painfully good at not dying" as the body will fight to stay alive no matter what, on top of any genetic factors.

I don't think it's necessarily that you give off an aura that makes people want to kill you, as you're inherently deserving of love and respect, especially after everything you've been through already. There's really no justification for being mistreated in the ways that you have.

I can understand how you may be using thoughts of suicide as a comfort mechanism, because it entertains the possibility of removing all negative things. But it's not worth removing all positive things in your life, and permanently removing the possibility of having more positive experiences in the future. You deserve to live a long and happy life, and it is still possible with everything you've been through already, though it may be hard to imagine. It may be helpful to consider that perhaps all these experiences where you escaped death suggest that you deserve to live.

If you can access and afford it, and if you don't already have it, I recommend looking into getting a therapist. A mental health professional could help you process your previous experiences and learn how to deal with these thoughts of suicide and using healthier coping mechanisms that don't potentially endanger yourself. You deserve the best care available.

If anyone else has any comments or suggestions, please feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[rougepetale]

Of Sunshine and Shadows ch 2

Hope you liked the last one! And I hope you like this one! basically showing these first three chapters to see if anyone likes the story :) Fandom: Spiderman

Pairing: Miguel O Hara/ OC Rating: T for now eventually M

Miguel wasn't expected to be thrown into Earth 789 but an urgent call from Lyla telling him that Green Goblin had managed to slip through the fabrics of reality into a different world, he had to react. Green Goblin in his world, she was dangerous, and was hellbent on taking him down. He couldn’t let Green Goblin create a canon event, or even worse breaking a canon event. She didn’t belong in another universe anyway. She was his problem. 

What he didn’t expect was a female Spiderman. And an incompetent one at that. He had watched as she was stabbed on the hoverboard. He knew he had to react and fast. This world’s SpiderMan wasn’t destined to die here. His little watch warmed him that a canon event could happen if he wasn’t careful in this universe. He clenched his jaw. Why did this have to happen to him right now? 

He wasn’t one to have a filter on but damn did he have to say that she was pathetic? That was a great introduction. 

He held the wounded SpiderWoman in his arms, and that is when it hit him, her scent. It went straight to his brain and nearly became a core memory. He wanted to drop her right then and there but something in his body refused to do so. She felt so warm in his arms despite the tiniest tinge of blue to her lips. He could have left her at the local hospital, he should have, but again something inside him refused to just let her go. 

When it was all said and done he found himself holding her, cradling her really as he created a portal back to his Earth to get her fixed up. 

I wake with a start, jolting out of bed I sit straight up, only to be greeted by agony in my stomach. With a groan I flop down back upon the bed. 

What the hell? Besides the pain in my stomach I could smell the antiseptic and bleach. Where was I? I remember being in an office building, and that was about it. Obviously I was in a hospital. I cracked open my eyes ever so slightly. It was so bright here. Damn it, somebody turn the lights down. 

“Nurse?” I gasp out, “help… please” I wanted to know where I was.

Then it dawned on me, someone took me to a hospital, Cap would have been with me until I was awake. My fingers gingerly probed my face and I could not feel the mask. A jolt of fear ran through me. My face was uncovered. They could see who I am, my identity was revealed! My heart began to race. The monitor beside my bed began to reflect my anxiety as it began to beep faster and faster, which then made me begin to panic even more. The fact that I could be outed to society was not something I wanted to happen. 

“Quit freaking out, it’s your own damn fault that your mask is this easily removed,” a voice beside me spoke, it made me jump. “You need to make a mask that can’t be just untied.” A large figure of a man came into my view.

I watched as this massive man sat beside my bed. “You’re in the hospital.” He spoke, he tried to speak in a calm and even tone, but I could tell it was hard for him to even speak this way. 

“I need to get out of here.” My voice cracked after the word ‘here’. He reached over and brought a cup to my lips, the bendy straw poked at them. Greedily, I wrapped my lips around the straw and sucked. A satisfied smile and the tiniest of groans escaped, the water was so cold and refreshing. I sucked so hard; I spluttered after trying to breath and suck at the same time. 

I coughed a few times which triggered a spasm of pain as my chest began to ache. “Why is my chest hurting so much?” I then proceeded to poke around my chest. 

“You don’t remember?” he asks, this large man was so close to me, even sitting down he seemed to tower over me, and I felt so incredibly small and at this moment, exceedingly dumb. His expression alone made me question myself, the look he was giving me had me wracking my brain for what exactly had happened. 

“No, I remember getting out of bed,” I pause for a moment, thinking back on the last few hours. “A baddie came crashing through New York, bitch stabbed me,” I gasped, “The bitch stabbed me with her ride!” I saw red for a moment. “Please, tell me you took care of her. I have to contact Tony, or Steve.” with a surge of adrenaline I sat up and threw my legs over the side of the bed. I couldn’t feel the pain as I looked for my suit. I needed to get my coms out, I needed to contact my group. The man stood up immediately. I felt even smaller, so I stopped for a second. He was large but I was short and fast. I went to dodge to the left, it was the closest to the exit anyway. I must have been too obvious as his large arm came down, blocking my exit point. His large hand wrapped around my upper arm and yanked me back into the bed. 

“Sit your ass down,” he forcefully pushed me back into the bed, his other hand came up to rub at the bridge of his nose. “You’re on bed rest for a few more days.” He sighs as he sits back in the chair. “You have the accelerated healing like every other Spiderperson, but you're going to stay here for a few days. Your body has not experienced advanced technology.” he explained.

“What does that mean?” I ask curiously, “What advanced tech? I mean the chick had a hoverboard, that’s not necessarily advanced.” It was then the man reached over and turned the blinds, letting in light in. Besides the blinding light, for which I hissed at, the outside skyline was unlike any I had seen before. It was futuristic, I reached over and pinched him as my mouth was left gaping open.

“Ouch! Hey, what the hell?” he growled, “why’d you pinch me?”

“Because it'll hurt if I pinched myself.” I replied in awe, again I stood up, this time it was to look out the window instead of trying to make a break for it. For reasons unknown to me and to the man beside me, he held his hands out to me, to steady me from falling. 

“How do you know you’re not dreaming? He asked skeptically, “you’ll have to pinch yourself too.” He stood behind me, his arms stretched out to catch me if I were to fall.

“You’re right,” I reached over and pinched my arm, a jolt of pain, “okay, I’m not dreaming. Where am I?” I stumbled to the window and looked out. This was not my New York, nor any city I’ve ever been to. It was modern, it was sci-fi. “Where am I?” I repeated again.

“You’re in New York, 2099.” He replied, his tone softer than what I have heard previously. 

“That can’t be possible. Time travel isn’t a thing, like maybe in comics or movies,” I didn’t know if this was truly possible, but the view outside the window was telling me differently. “How did I get here?” I eventually asked after a long pause.

“When you passed out in my arms, I brought you here to advanced technology. Your outdated technology wouldn’t have been able to save you.” 

I looked back at the hulking man, reaching out to him, noticing how his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. Guess he wasn’t used to someone voluntarily touching him or reaching out to him for assistance. He then guided me to the bed and sat beside me again. “I’m Luna by the way,” I said, looking down at my hands, a little too shy to look at him now. 

“Miguel,” he replied back, he was indeed watching me though. “I’m Spiderman, though I’m sure you noticed that already.”

This sparked my interest to say the least. “Does that mean that you took care of that lady? She was looking for you.” 

Miguel stiffens again, “yeah, she’s taken care of.” He didn’t elaborate further, and he certainly didn’t show that he wanted to talk much more. Miguel stood and walked around my bed, “get some rest, and don’t take that bracelet off of your arm for the time being. It’s what’s keeping you here.” He pointedly looked at my wrist. I looked down at said wrist. It was a simple rubber bracelet, it was marked with blue and red designs.

“Oh, well thanks?” I replied, looking up, and he was gone. I laid in bed, obediently, waiting and wishing for somebody to return. I twiddled my thumbs and stared at the ceiling, and for anyone curious there were 17 tiles and two lights. It was that boring. 

“87 bottles of beer on the wall! Take one down, pass it around, 86 bottles of beer on the wall!” I was singing my heart out, might as well, nobody had come in to see me in hours, was it hours? Minutes? Days? Isolation is a bitch. And with no clocks in sight, I didn’t know what day or time it was. When did Migue leave? How long was I supposed to stay here? Is this what Vegas felt like? They were pumping fresh air in…

I poked at my wrapped torso and it still hurt. What did he mean by outdated technology? If my technology was so outdated, why wasn’t his technology working any faster? I wanted so desperately to move, to leave, to breathe the nasty New York air. Damn it! 

I gingerly sat up and threw my legs over the side. Miguel didn’t say how long I had to lay here. Just that he wanted me to rest and relax. I grabbed my holder of IVs and hobbled my way to the door. I didn’t realize that my whole backside was on display, with nothing but my panties to hide my modesty. 

The door to freedom was opened to me, and I made a very slow break for it. The hospital was eerily silent. Not a nurse around, not a soul to be heard. I wanted to call out for help but I knew that if I did I would be put back in my cell… er room. Instead I made my way to the elevator and the cheery music on the speakers was my only companion. I eagerly pressed the button for ground level. The doors shut and I was alone.

It seemed as if things were moving backwards, time stood still, or was I just standing still? 

Was the elevator moving? 

Eventually the ding of the elevator startled me and the doors opened up. 

I took a couple steps out and was floored by what I saw.

Hundred of Spidermen.

[eldrai]

100 very fortunate people following you and I'm glad to be one of them. Bet you expect me to ask for an angst prompt huh? Well as tempted as I was (and still am) I was actually drawn to this:

Fluff Prompt 1. You did all of this for me? (Hotch and Morgan) Full creative liberty belongs to you as far as its use, and of course I think you well know my idea of fluff is a little skewed so go wherever you want even if it doesn't feel fluffy.

Congrats again! ❤

Thank you for the congratulations! And yes, I admit I was expecting angst from you - I think you and Jas temporarily swapped personalities when sending these, given that I've got fluff from you and angst from her! :P

...and thank you for the disclaimer because my fluff also has a tendency to veer towards angst and this idea is no exception! Still, I hope it is sufficiently fluffy, even given the context. I have no idea why my brain chose this as a setting for fluff but hey.

Hope you enjoy! [AO3: here]

Carpentry was a better smell than bleach and old blood, but both had an almost clinical aspect to them, a sense of unfinished business; Derek was still grateful Prentiss had been round to air the place out after he’d finished.

He tossed the keys on the side table and Hotch set down the bag he’d insisted he was fine carrying (he was not but they’d learnt to pick their battles), looking past Derek to the wall behind him.

Sensing now as one of those times Hotch would rather not be talking face-to-face (that, or he was about to pass out, but he didn’t quite look as grey as usually preceded the latter) Derek offered him coffee and set about making it without waiting for the inevitable no. The kitchen was as barebones as the rest of the house, functional but not much else.

“How did the manager agree to let you—” Hotch glanced over at him. “He did agree.”

“The lease is fine,” Derek said, tentatively relieved. Trust Hotch to go straight for the logistics. “It wasn’t hard. I just asked him if he thought it was strange they’ve had seven petty noise complaints in the last month alone but nobody reported a gunshot.”

That gave him pause for an awkwardly long time. “There were sirens,” Hotch said, and though this was not the direction he’d wanted the conversation to take there was no away around it. His eyes flicked to Derek and back at the too-smooth patch of wall. “I had assumed they were…”

“Could’ve been us,” he said. “Prentiss got the word out pretty quick once she realised you weren’t here, had people looking.”

Still, he imagined it must be a disconcerting thought: what could happen in broad daylight if enough people refused to acknowledge it? Home was safety, and surrounded by other units and far from the ground floor, his apartment posed safer, arguably, than the old house. And just when Hotch needed somewhere he could feel safe, he didn’t have it. Not without any of them around and that was its own problem – if they even were available, he was fully justified in wanting some time alone and even if he wasn’t, Derek had the firm suspicion he’d consider asking akin to admitting to being a burden.

No wonder Hotch didn’t look like he recognised this place. None of it mattered except the bullet hole and the blood; the violence had oozed into the walls, and there was no sentiment to wash it out. This was what this apartment was going to be. This was the first impression, the gut reaction, the core memory.

Maybe he’d made a mistake in assuming removing the blood would lighten the atmosphere, because the absence of what they both knew was – should – be there drew all the attention. Made it even harder to ignore. They couldn’t just say it, out and out ask what had happened to the rather large blood stain, without acknowledging exactly what had happened.

“He wouldn’t have had that,” Hotch said quietly. “His terms only.”

“And that’s where we’re gonna get him,” Derek said. He received no reply, hadn’t much expected one, and set their mugs on the counter.

Hotch didn’t hesitate when he came to stand in the kitchen. He stepped on the carpet where the blood had been with the precision of a man forcing himself not to be disturbed by it. The blank façade lasted only for a minute or two, in which he didn’t even pretend to be interested in drinking, and then coffee spilled over the rim of his mug as he put it down, his knuckles white and trembling minutely. His gaze hadn’t strayed from that spot.

Derek was abruptly afraid that he’d made some kind of mistake here, stepping over a line Hotch had already had rather badly violated. That he should've tried a little longer to scrub the carpet clean instead of giving up and replacing it. But when Hotch did look at him – brief a look as it was – there wasn’t the anger, not even fear, that he’d dreaded. His eyes were a little too shiny, a little too wet. He swallowed convulsively and his jaw tightened; he looked over at the wall instead.

Leaving his own coffee, Derek crouched down to examine the seam of the skirting board and carpet. He’d fit it, he knew damn well it was fine, but if Hotch saw through that he said nothing. Just stood in silence and pulled himself a little back together – a little more, he liked to think, back to himself.

“Morgan, you didn’t – you did all of this for me?” Hotch said softly.

He shifted to kneeling. “‘All of this’ makes it sound like a lot.”

“Carpet isn’t cheap.”

Derek looked up as if he’d only just considered that, like he hadn’t been thinking up excuses and explanations since he was ripping up bloodstained underlay. “I had leftover.”

“Leftover,” Hotch repeated. If he wasn’t mistaken there was a faint undertone of amusement there. “That just happened to fit the dimensions?”

“After I cut it down,” he said. “Wasn’t going to do anything else with it, so I thought I might as well.”

Hotch shot him a look. Its impact was considerably lessened by the slight painkiller dullness in his eyes. “And the color.”

“Literally every house I’ve ever been in had beige carpet.”

“Labor—”

“Hotch.” Derek stood. “The floor underneath was fine, easiest job I’ve done in a while.”

And before Hotch could come up with his next argument – or more likely verbalise it, as he had no doubt there were several more rebuttals just waiting their turn – he jumped in.

“It’s just carpet,” he said. “Seriously, forget about it.”

It was ‘just’ a carpet the same way Hotch ‘just’ hadn’t gotten around to unpacking all the boxes of his stuff but… he hoped at least this carried a better, if not necessarily happier, sentiment with it.

Hotch ran his thumb over his fingertips. “Morgan?” This time his hand wasn’t shaking when he lifted his mug. “Thank you.”

[bonecorn]

I love your anatomy/references posts & I love skulls and skeletons & I would love to know how you convince people to give you their animal heads to clean. Also any bone cleaning tips for suburban areas?? When I was living on a farm it was easy to leave stuff out and let the bugs take care of it but my parents said hard no to dead things bleaching on the porch

Oh this is very easy!

Find a friend or acquaintance with land and leave your stuff there. Bug cleaning and tub maceration don't need a lot of hands-on attendance so you can check in however often you like.

There's also "hot water maceration" where you simmer (dont boil!) fresh heads in hot water and remove the cooked meat by hand. Make sure you scramble the brains first and then cook away inside or with a camping stove on the porch. And "bleaching" which is done with hydrogen peroxide can be done inside since the skulls are already clean by then anyway.

I don't actually convince people to give me their pets. For livestock, I ask because most people aren't emotionally attached to their livestock.

For pets, I wait to be offered the remains. More on that under the cut.

TLDR: Know the pet owner, wait to be offered bodies rather than asking. Make sure they are always in control. Ask for livestock no problem. Don't let scavengers eat euthanized meat.

holy crap lol

I don't ask for pet bodies. The trick is to be very open and excited about what you do so that people who know you know about bones and know that you are respectful of animal remains. Then, when a beloved pet dies, they might think about you.

Open up the conversation on death before it's relevant

You can also plant the seed ahead of time during a conversation about bones while the pet in question is alive and healthy. "Sometimes I do pets if their owner is ok with it, though most want to bury. Have you ever thought about that for Baxter?" It's in SUPER poor taste to do this while an animal is dying, when you'll need to be way more tactful.

Know your friend well enough to guess their feelings on it

It SUPER depends on the person and how they view bodies and death. My ex's dog passed away and he was always queasy about corpses. I comforted him and cried with him while his beloved 15 year old dog declined and passed. I didn't ask or even mention it because I knew him enough to know that he would say no, and that asking would be painful and upsetting for him to think about. Same with my dear friend and her 20 year old cat. She had a beautiful pet graveyard with headstones and everything. You just know not to ask some people because traditionally laying bodies to rest is important to them.

Other pet owners are chill about it, ESPECIALLY if they come from a livestock background. Livestock people are used to sending their animals to be recycled into glue and wax when they die, because it's generally not feasible to bury or cremate a horse. If someone does plan to take that on, you know they are absolutely dedicated to traditional burial and won't give you anything.

Make it their choice to offer, rather than it being your request

Anyway. If you know the person, and you know they might be ok with giving up their pet's body due to how they view bodies and death, then you work on making them think about you. First, you comfort and do everything you can to help the person through their grief. If you weren't already planning on doing that, then you have no business asking for their pet. Do not comfort someone in order to get something out of them. That's disgusting. Just straight up ask them for their pet and know that they will view you as tactless and rude, but its better than manipulating them.

What I do is not manipulation, it's reminding people what you do and then letting them make their own decisions. When your friend is feeling a little better and is not crying, you can ask about logistics. I ask "What do you plan to do for burial/with the body?" and that usually makes them think about me and what I do with bodies. If they already have a meaningful spot picked out to bury or scatter/keep ashes, then that means the body is important to them and I shouldn't ask further.

At this point, they should realize what you could use the body for and think about how they feel about that. This is when my sister (who has a livestock background) offered her dog to me. We talked about how she thought of bodies, and she thought that the soul is the only thing that matters and once her dog passes there's nothing important left. I did not say anything to convince her, these were all her own thoughts.

It's very VERY important to respect and love the pet owner because they're extremely vulnerable and emotionally raw. That's why I don't straight up ask, because when you're losing a pet, you don't want to feel like someone is trying to gain something from you.

If your friend says they don't know or haven't decided what to do for the body, you can gently say "Let me know if you want me to help bury it, to take it with me, or to just be there for you." This is a close-ended statement and not a question. A question means that your friend has to come up with an answer right there and then, while an offer is actionable. This puts the power and autonomy in your friend's hands, so that when they make a decision it comes fully from their wants and needs and is not about you and what you want.

Be there for them even if you get nothing out of it

If they don't offer at this point, they're not going to. Now hold up your end of the bargain and continue to comfort and help through the grieving process. Again, if you aren't already invested in this person enough to want to soothe and comfort and be there for the human person in the equation, then you have no business asking for their pet. When a pet dies, your first concern should be to the person. If it's not, then you aren't close enough to ask for goodies.

Helping someone grieve is not payment for their pet's body. If you realize they aren't going to give you something in return for your comfort and so you abandon them, you're a terrible person using their grief to manipulate them for your own gain. Comfort is not payment. Closeness in grief is a metric by which you measure "Do I have any business to ask?"

The pet owner runs the show, not you

Throughout this process, stress that the owner can change their mind at any time. You don't want the owner to think "I hate this but I can't back out now because I promised..." Even when they animal is all wrapped up an in your vehicle and ready to go, quietly tell the owner that they can still choose what happens and if they have second thoughts, that's ok and you won't be mad.

My sister let me be there for putting her dog down and it was all about her and her love for her dog. She carried him out and laid him in my trunk and we stood in the rain and talked and hugged. She then told me she was happy that he could bring happiness to someone in life and now still in death, but that she didn't want to know anything. I agreed not to tell her or post anything about processing her dog, so for her it would be like burial. The same thing happened with my other friend's horse. She spent some time with him and then as soon as he passed she drove away and let me do what I wanted. She didn't want to hear Any of it. Again, I didn't ask or even offer, she came up with the idea of giving me the body all on her own even before I knew he was dying.

Horse people are much closer to pet owners than livestock owners, but they are used to sending their friend's bodies off to a different kind of processing (at Tallow factories, livestock remains are ground up, cut apart, cooked, and spun around to extract various substances that become soap, glue, candles, etc) so they know not to think about what happens after death. It still depends on how well you know the owner and know how they think about death, but if you offer to handle logistics like dealing with the tallow guy, they can actually save money by letting you have it.

You're actually doing livestock a favor

Livestock people are generally chill and have a much more utility/asset view of their animals. If the animal doesn't even have a name they probably don't care what happens when it's dead. In fact, most farmers will jump at the chance to give you their animal for free because calling the tallow company to haul it away costs them money. This is also why in areas with lots of livestock, you sometimes find bodies dumped in ditches or left on the side of the road, because the farmer didn't want to pay to get rid of it so they made it everyone else's problem. Even pet animals like dogs and cats are more Utility than pure companions on a farm, so you might have a better chance of getting remains from a farmer than a neighbor.

One more thing about pets and livestock.

When I find a dead deer, I flay it open and let the vultures eat it. For domestic animals, they are often put to sleep via chemical/drug.

THIS IS POISONOUS TO SCAVENGERS.

DO NOT LET SCAVENGERS EAT EUTHANIZED ANIMALS

Seriously. If you like nature, you need to protect it. Deflesh it yourself, throw all the meat/blood/offal away or bury it 6 feet down. Idk what it does to the environment so I always freeze it and then throw it away on garbage day.

Rot bacteria and beetle larvae dermestids don't mind. In fact, dermestid droppings and pupa shells can be analyzed for toxins by forensic scientists to determine cause of death. Neat! Just make sure that if you process outdoors, the remains are EXTREMELY SECURE and cannot be opened by vultures, coyotes, or wild pigs.

Remember the living, human person

I know I look very clinical by picking apart human emotions, but I respond, feel, love, and grieve just like everyone else. I didn't plan how to get any of the animals in the above stories, I just acted on instinct and these are the ones where that paid off well.

Most of the time if I go "huh. I feel that may not go over well" I can then take that feeling apart and figure out why. So hopefully explaining how my feelings work it can help you listen to your most useful and most compassionate ones.

The living person is always more important than a dead pet. Sometimes you can get the dead pet without distressing your friend, sometimes you shouldn't even try.

Respecting the dead

A final note on working with pets vs wild animals. This is someone's family member, so don't play puppet with it like you might with a skunk skin. Don't take pictures of any part of the process until they are rendered to bones. Pictures of dead pet species are even more distressing to the general public than wild animals, and sick freaks might take your photos and send them to people for kicks or attention. Better to just not have photos than for that to happen.

What processing a pet feels like

Working on a pet is always going to be different for you, the vulture, than a wild animal. Everything you see is touched by human hands. My sister's dog was... beautiful. You don't really realize how moved you're going to be by seeing the perfect amount of healthy fat covering, or beautiful muscles that speak of exercise and attention. She rescued this starving pup and turned him into the healthiest animal I have ever seen. She's a vet assistant and the care and love she put into this dog had me sitting there crying while I held his paws; with their perfectly maintained clipped and sanded nails. I'd only met the dog once for a few minutes when he was alive, but his body was a canvas and every inch was painted with layers and layers of love. It made me so, so sad that his neurological issues couldn't be helped because his body was proof of someone who would stop at nothing to cure what could be cured, and that the last months of his life were happier than he ever imagined.

On the flip side, pets whose bodies show signs of neglect and abuse are going to hit you harder than any deer could. The dog I found discarded in a garbage bag on the side of the road had rotten teeth and nails so long they curled over themselves into hoops. An overgrown and suffering deer is just the sign of nature taking its course. An overgrown and suffering dog is the sign of human cruelty, of shirked responsibility.

Most pets you get will between these two dogs. No owner is perfect. Most old dogs have lost teeth to rot, sick cats too weak to scratch properly may have overgrown nails.

Death as beauty

A pet's body usually a beautiful story full of ups and downs; of owners doing things wrong and then doing things right. A vulture or an artist can read a body like rings on a tree and feel the heart beat in their chest that tells them how strong and full of love this life had been. You need to be ready for this part. Every detail is a message from your fellow human and even though we are all animals and we decompose into the same dirt, we're meant to connect to each other here and now.

Keep your emotions open when working with remains.

Listen to what they have to teach you.

[softyoongiionly]

Can I Make a Mess Now?

Jungkook’s never had sex before but, after realizing that he’s falling in love with you, he thinks he wants that to change.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Virgin! Jungkook, established relationship au, college au, smut, fluff.

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: This is a part 2 to Will You Make a Mess Now? Please please please let me know what you think! Love you

Warnings: smut, language, 18+ only please.

Winter break never lasts long enough does it?

A few short weeks of bliss and then-

BOOM.

You’re forced out of the warm and lazy cocoon of holiday spirit and, back into the rigidity of modern education.

It’s not that you don’t enjoy your studies, it’s just that after nearly four years of exams and, group projects that never go exactly as planned; you are starting to feel burnt out.

It also doesn’t help that you spent the majority of your winter break sleeping over at your boyfriends house.

You got used to the weight of his head on your chest.

You got used to running your fingers through his hair; an act that lulled both of you to sleep.

You got used to waking up beside him every morning.

When the semester started once again, the two of you agreed that you’d reserve overnight stays to weekends only.

As encouraging as you were of each other’s success, copious amounts of alone time is a (delightful) distraction.

Especially since the two of you began exploring the boundaries of your relationship.

At the beginning of winter break, Jungkook had revealed to you that not only was he a virgin but, he’s never been touched before.

After a bit of discussion, he decided that he wanted you to change that.

And boy did you…

You still can’t get the images of him falling apart beneath the firm grasp of your hand out of your head.

It’s arguably one of the best things you’ve ever seen.

Jungkook’s room became the safe haven for exploration.

Many cold nights were spent underneath his duvet, touching on each other until things eventually got heated enough for you to take turns making eachother cum.

Happy Holidays indeed.

There was one night in particular that things got a little out of hand.

In the heat of the moment, Jungkook had torn off your t-shirt, leaving the two of you to make out in your underwear.

He positioned you on his lap with a low whine in his throat and, at the feeling of your heat pressing directly into his dick; he almost lost it right then and there.

It took everything in him to keep his hands steady.

To keep them from ripping your panties off…

However, he succeeded and although, it was painful to slow things down, he knew it was the right thing to do.

The only problem is, that night increased his desire to a level he’s never felt before.

He knows he wants you to be his first but; he’s so particular and, so sensitive to his surroundings that he wants to make sure everything is perfect.

Perfection is a concept he frequently struggles with and, although he’s lessened his standards over the years, he still finds himself reverting back to his old habits.

Losing his virginity is a big deal for him.

He can’t help that.

And because it carries so much weight, he feels the need to hold off until the moment is 100% right.

But, how does he define such a thing?

He knows he wants you.

He knows you want him.

He knows he’s falling in love with you…

So, how is a perfect moment established?

Can you plan it?

Jungkook doesn’t know but, he’s starting to believe that he can’t.

His brothers don’t understand his issues.

Seokjin’s been with his girlfriend for two years and, every time she comes to visit, he can hear her moaning through his bedroom door.

An event that continuously scars him.

Namjoon is engrossed in his studies so, he doesn’t make time for relationships.

But one time, when he was looking for his laptop, Jungkook walked in on him getting his dick sucked.

He’s still never gotten that image out of his head.

Hoseok literally attended an orgy two months ago.

Jimin’s dating his childhood sweetheart.

Taehyung stays over at the sorority house at least twice a week.

And, last but not least, Yoongi frequently walks around sporting various love bites and scratch marks after a night with his girlfriend.

Jungkook’s spoken with his hyungs’ regarding sex a few times but, it’s never a conversation he initiates.

He’s far too shy to openly speak about these things.

But from what he’s gathered, sex is top notch.

None of his brothers could think of anything that feels as good, although Yoongi did cite sleeping as a close second.

After a long week of lectures and tedious lab work, Jungkook has finally decided that he wants to lose his virginity.

Or at least…he’s ready to talk about it…

He starts off guns a blazing: he sends you a text trying to appear nonchalant despite the fact that his heart is currently pounding in his chest.

Jungkook: do you want to come over tonight? 

Jungkook: there’s a new season of that anime we started watching :)

His message does the same bit of damage on your heart because, although you two have been dating for quite some time, you still get excited at the thought of seeing him.

You: plzzz

You: this first week has killed me

You: I need to relax so bad

You: my brain cell count has dropped to dangerously low amount.

Jungkook chuckles to himself, shaking his head at your response.

Jungkook: wow

Jungkook: lower than normal???

Jungkook: that’s pretty bad jagi :/

You giggle, already gathering your toothbrush and, various other items needed for an overnight stay.

You:  I know

You: it’s a tragedy : (

Despite the playful banter between the two of you, Jungkook is furiously moving around his room, cleaning every inch of it.

He’s dusting the shelves, vacuuming his floor, rearranging his figurines on his desk.

He feels like a mad man…

Jungkook: lol you’re ridiculous

Jungkook: you can come over around 7 if you’re ready; I’m just finishing up an assignment.

Jungkook: miss you <3

Your boyfriend is literally sour patch kid.

You: miss you too 

You: falling asleep without you sucks

You: 10/10 would not recommend

Jungkook smiles, gripping his phone in his hand, a flurry of emotions stirring in his stomach.

Jesus, he really likes you…

Jungkook: stay the night then

Jungkook: I’ll make sure you sleep better tonight

He feels proud of himself.

He initiated you coming over, he’s holding a playful/flirty conversation with you, and he’s totally not freaking out at the fact that he’s going to have to tell you he’s ready to have sex.

Right?

Okay, the last part is definitely a lie but he’s just gonna go with it.

You: on my way :)

Jungkook receives this text from you roughly two hours later when he’s getting out of the shower.

He deep cleaned his bedroom, put fresh bedding on his mattress, scrubbed every inch of his body and, now he was standing in front of the mirror with nothing but a towel on his hips.

He takes time slathering lotion all over his skin, hoping that you like the vanilla-honey scent before applying a copious amount of deodorant.

He shaved in the shower, taking his time to remove the bit of hair around his crotch because it makes him feel cleaner.

Jungkook’s hair is getting longer too so, he’s been putting leave in conditioner on his ends to keep them healthy and spritzing his hair with anti-frizz serum.

After roughly 20 minutes of primping, he gets another text from you as he’s pulling on his sweat pants.

You: Here <333

Jungkook feels his stomach twist whilst reading your message.

Here goes nothing…

You’re standing outside the door of Jungkook’s house, dressed in a hoodie and a pair of leggings.

Comfy works out for you because, it requires minimal effort and, it’s also your boyfriend’s favorite look on you.

So, it’s a win win.

Given the fact that you and Jungkook usually end up fooling around, you took the time to exfoliate and shave whilst you were in the shower.

You may have also worn a new lacy red bra that had arrived in the mail earlier that day…

But, who knows?

“Yahhh there she is…”

You instantly light up as Jungkook eagerly swings open his front door, quickly pulling you into his grasp.

He smells amazing but, he feels even better and, you waste no time in pulling him close to you.

“I missed you.” You mutter into his hair

He grins, hugging you a bit tighter and, ushering you inside, “Missed you too, are you cold at all?”

Stepping through the threshold of his door, you notice that he’s freshly showered himself, his hair is damp and stringy but, it frames his face perfectly

“A little bit but, I plan on using you for warmth really soon so, I’m good.”

His hand is intertwined with yours as he leads you up to his room and, his face lights up with a smile.

“I got a new duvet on Tuesday, it’s really warm but,” He places a hand on his chest. “,you can still use me though, I missed having you here.”

Jungkook mutters the last half of his sentence, his cheeks warming up at his confession before he pushes open the bedroom door.

You don’t comment on his shyness but, it makes you smile and lean into him a little more.

His room is always clean but, the fresh scent of his disinfectant spray is slightly more pungent than normal. It isn’t a harsh smell; it’s a soft lavender cleaner that he special orders from Korea.

He absolutely hates the scent of bleach.

“It’s a nice color huh?”

Jungkook gestures to the muted grey of his new bedding, which is carefully placed over his mattress.

“I love it, it’s very you.” You smile as your eyes scan the room, “it matches your furniture really well too.”

His eyes light up, “Yeah, yeah that’s why I got it. I knew it would look good with the- um the desk and the dresser and stuff. See, I knew you’d notice that…you always notice things like that.”

Before you can respond he’s speaking again, his tone slightly uneven, “Um do you want to lay down? I know you said you were cold. I can hold you if you want-“ He grimaces at his word choice, not fully understanding why his nerves are taking over already, “not that  I don’t want to or anything. I do, I just…I know you’re cold.”

You touch your hand to his cheek, bringing his wandering eyes back to yours, “Are you ok?”

Jungkook swallows, his eyes locking with yours, “Y-Yeah, I just don’t want you to be cold…”

You’re not convinced.

Although the two of you have only been together for 6 months, you like to think you’ve gotten to know Jungkook really well. He isn’t exactly a closed book and, when he’s nervous about something, it’s fairly obvious.

“Are you suuuure?”

The question is paired with a soft kiss to his lips and, Jungkook can’t help but smile when you do, his posture relaxing slightly.

“I’m sure, I’m just happy you’re here. It was weird not seeing you all week.” He tucks a stray hair behind your ear before, pecking your lips.

Again, you’re not convinced but, you don’t want to pry.

He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

The matter of his worries is dropped and, Jungkook quickly (and neatly) pulls back the covers so, that the two of you can slip underneath them.

Moments later, you’re nestled against your boyfriend’s side, draping your arm over your stomach.

“You smell good…” You mutter against his sweater, nuzzling gently against the material.

Jungkook grins triumphantly, silently patting himself on the back for his choice of lotion.

“Thank you,” His chest vibrates with the sound of his voice, “so do you…”

With that, he tentatively raises a hand towards your hair, allowing his fingertips to brush over the top of your head.  

The anime begins playing but, you’re more focused on the way his fingers feel, as you melt into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt.

And halfway through the first episode, Jungkook’s motions are beginning to take a toll on you.

But not in the way you’d normally expect…

He’s smiling softly, admiring the way you sigh at his touch, taking time to play with the ends of your hair before massaging gently at your scalp.  

“You’re going to make me sleepy…” You mumble contently, a few minutes later and, Jungkook chuckles breathlessly beneath you.

“That’s ok; you can sleep if you need to.”  

He means it.

Jungkook had other things on his agenda but, now that you’re here, all he cares about is your comfort.  

“Don’t wanna sleep-“ You nudge your nose against his ribcage, “I missed you.”

With another chuckle, he traces his fingers over the edges of your hairline, brushing over the shell of your ear.

You can feel goosebumps rising on your skin but, it’s not intrusive or sudden, they come on slowly along with a type of comfort that only Jungkook can provide.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” He soothes, his motions continuing over the arches of your brows before, he traces back up the expanse of your forehead. “I promise.”

You can feel yourself smile as your blinking slows, taking another deep breath whilst your body seems to melt into him.

The heaviness in your eyelids is growing despite your best efforts to warrant off your exhaustion.

You didn’t want to nap, you wanted to spend time with your boyfriend but, when he tucks his fingers beneath your hair and, begins scratching gently on your scalp, the threat of sleep becomes more prominent.

“Sleepy girl…” He teases, a fond smile on his lips as he watches your eyes finally close. His thumb brushes over your cheek, gently pinching at the skin before, returning his hand to your hair.

This warms you from the inside out and, sooner or later you can’t help but, drift off into a light sleep.

Jungkook smile grows and, he slows his movements to a stop before tugging on the duvet until it covers your shoulders.  

He decides in that moment that he really wouldn’t mind spending every night just like this; tucked under the covers, falling asleep in eachother’s arms.  

He changes the show to something you’ve already seen; he doesn’t want to watch the anime without you.  

After some time has passed, you slowly come out of your slumber, happy you’re still laying on your boyfriend’s chest.  

You peer up at Jungkook to see his brow furrowed in concentration as his gaze is locked firmly on the screen.  

A smile immediately finds it’s way onto your lips, your finger reaching out to bop him on the nose.

He jumps at first, not understanding the source of the interruption before he quickly matches your smile, ““Yah she’s awake. Did you have a good nap?” He thumbs over your cheek once more and, you’re overcome by the urge to press a kiss against his lips

He’s willing and able to accept it.

His hands come up to hold you against him and, he slowly begins to move his lips against yours

“Mhm...”

His nose wrinkles with the joy on his face as he presses more kisses to your lips.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep, I just haven’t been getting to bed on time this week...”

An adorable pout comes over his mouth, “Don’t be sorry, I’m glad you were able to get some rest. It’s not late or anything.”

It’s well past sunset but, Jungkook’s vanilla cake candle is providing enough light to illuminate the details of your boyfriends face.  

You kiss him again, just because he’s cute and you can, “What did you do while I was out?”

His head reclines against his pillow again but, he tugs you closer, ensuring that you remain against him.

“I watched a few episodes of Naruto...” He admits, “I’ve seen it a million times but, I never get tired of it.”

Your arms drape over his shoulders as the upper half of your body rests over his chest. The wispy ends of his black hair are too cute to resist so you absentmindedly toy with them as you respond,

“I get it, I have a few different shows that I’m like that with; I swear I’ve seen The Office so many times I could quote it in my sleep.”  

A half smirk curves on the end of his mouth, “Yeah that’s a good one too, Jin hyung watches that show all the time.”

You giggle, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear, “Ah that explains a lot actually, Jin and Michael Scott have a lot in common.”

He chuckles at that, nodding in agreement, leaning his head against your hand.

“Which character do you think you are?”

You purse your lips, mulling it over, your eyes narrowing in thought, “Hmmm that’s a tough one cause like- I wanna say Kelly because, she’s amazing but in reality, I’m probably more of a Kevin.”

Jungkook’s smirk grows, “Isn’t that the guy who dropped his chili all over the place?

With a dramatic sigh, you nod, “God, I’ve never related to anyone more in my entire life...”

A full belly laugh comes from your boyfriends pretty mouth, his body trembling beneath you as he shakes his head.

It’s one of your favorite sounds, especially when it gets all high pitched like it is now.

“Jagi you aren’t Kevin...” He insists, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, “You are cooler than him.”

“You’re just saying that because you see the best side of me; in reality I am 100% Kevin.” You giggle, tucking more hair behind his other ear.

He still chuckles, shaking his head before nodding to you, “Who do you think I am?”

This definitely gets your brain going.

“I’m leaning towards Jim, you guys have a lot in common.” You nod as you continue to think about their similarities, “Yeah, you both have the same sense of humor and, even though you’re more sexy in an obvious way, you both have the same kind of sexiness?? If that makes sense?? But, you’re definitely hotter than Jim.”

You force your train of thought away from the office- style fantasy that pops into your head as Jungkook feels something stir deep in his gut.

“You think I’m sexy?”

You can’t help but laugh at the surprised look on his face, you swear you’ll never understand how Jungkook doesn’t see how hot he is.

“Duh.” You seal your response with a kiss but, Jungkook surprises you by sitting up and tugging you onto his lap.

He chuckles at the squeal that leaves your lips but, he carries on kissing you, his hands sliding up your outer thighs.

You don’t know what prompts his motions but, you’re not really in the mood to ask.

You’d much rather sit on your boyfriend’s lap and, make out with him.

“Can you-” He whispers against your lips, slightly breathless, “Can you say it?”

Your eyes flutter open to catch the shyness in his, “Can I say what?”

Warmth floods the apples of his cheeks, “Can you say that you think I’m sexy?”

A smirk teases the corners of your mouth and, tentatively you roll your hips against his.

“Are you trying to get hard Jungkook?”

You can hear him gulp, his eyes widening a bit before he nods.

With a smirk still on your lips, you tilt his head back, moving your fingers through his hair as you slowly begin placing kisses up the side of his neck.

His breathing picks up and, god help him, he immediately feels his dick hardening in his sweats.  

Jungkook’s neck is a sensitive area and, you know exactly where his weak spots are.

As you reach the lobe of his ear, you feel his grip tighten on your hips, his mouth parted slightly to make way for his shaky breath.  

“Jungkook?” You whisper in his ear, biting your lip as you see him visibly shiver beneath you.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re sexy.”  

You nibble on his ear before quickly reuniting your lips, your hands sliding underneath his sweater.

His skin is so soft, so warm beneath your fingertips and, there is a large part of you that wishes you could spend hours just touching and kissing your boyfriend’s body.

Jungkook is eagerly reciprocating your kiss whilst his hands slowly move back up the outsides of your thighs.

His plan to get hard definitely worked because, you can feel him poking against your hips and, you’re already thinking of all the different ways you can make him cum.

“Did you get hard for me?” You whisper against his swollen lips, nudging his nose

Instantly he nods, his hands tugging the hem of your hoodie.

You take the hint, pulling back from him in order to remove it.  

Your plan is to continue kissing him of course but, as Jungkook spots the fire-red lace cups supporting the swells of your breasts, he lets out a tortured sigh.

“Is that new?” He swallows thickly, biting his bottom lip, allowing his hands to trail up your hips before securing themselves against your waist.

All you do is nod, sticking your chest out a bit and, encouraging him to keep touching you.

Jungkook leans in, dragging the tip of his nose between your breasts, inhaling when he reaches the space between your color bones.

“Did you wear this for me?”

His voice is ragged but, it’s deeper than normal, due to the arousal coating his tone.

“I wanted to look pretty for you.” You whisper, running your fingers through his hair.

You can feel him smile against your chest, his wet lips trailing back to tops of the bra, “You’re always pretty but this-” He grows bolder, biting softly at your breast, “this is torture”

A giggle bubbles past your lips, as you roll down against him once more.

“Jagi I-” The sensation of pleasure that toys with his body acts like a truth serum and, in an act of desperation that he definitely didn’t plan, a confession tumbles from his mouth, “I want you.”

But you don’t quite catch his drift, still rocking slowly against him, arousal slowly beginning to unravel you, “I want you too.”

No like,” He pulls away, his eyes glazed over with desire as they lock onto yours, “I want to be inside of you...”

It’s like a punch to the gut really, the way your boyfriend’s voice seems to quake under the weight of his admission.

You cup his cheek, “Really? Are you sure?”

He nods eagerly, licking his lips before turning to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist, “I want you so bad...”  

You’re quick to capture his lips then, kissing into him with more fervor than you ever have.  

"Can you do it for us Noona?” He croons into your mouth, his eyes darkened with lust as they plead with yours.

A nod is all you can manage at his devasting way of asking you to ride him.

For the first time...

You’re pulling off his sweater, securing your lips to his once more, kissing on them as you lean him back against the pillows.

Your bottoms are removed, leaving you completely naked as you tug his sweats down his legs.

Jungkook’s erection looks painful and, you feel yourself ache at the thought of finally being able to sit on it.

As you sit astride him once more, you lean down to press a kiss between his eyes before trailing your lips down the bridge of his nose to hover over his mouth.

He looks a little emotional, staring up at you as if you hung the moon just for him.

And you would, you’d do anything for him.

“Are you ready baby?” You whisper

He takes a deep and unstable breath through his nose but, gives you a nod anyway as he exhales through his mouth.

Right as you start lining him up with your entrance, Jungkook cups your cheek, his hand clammed up due to his nerves.

“Jagi?” He croaks

You kiss his hand gently, reassurance in your eyes, “Yeah?”

“G-Go slow please...”

You nod, “Of course, tell me if you want to stop at any point ok?”

He returns your nod before, letting out another breath as his head returns to his pillows.

Slowly but surely, you begin sheathing him in your heat, going as slow as possible so he can feel everything.

His body seems to freeze as you sink down on him, his hands tightening on your hips before a gasp leaves his throat.

Jungkook is quite sure he’s in heaven.

That’s the only explanation for the intense feelings of pleasure swimming through his body. He’s never felt anything so hot, so tight-  

So fucking good.

He’s going to lose his mind.  

With wide eyes, he stares up at you in awe, his lips parted as the length of his dick is fully inside of you.

You’re not fairing too well either because, Jungkook fills you up perfectly, nudging against the spot within you that makes your head spin.

“Is that ok?”

“ ‘ss so good...”  His voice is slurred as his hips jerk beneath you, sending a wave of pleasure through your core.

Biting your lip, you thumb his cheek, trying to hold it together, “Can I ride you now?”

You’re asking because, you want to make sure he’s prepared.

You know this isn’t going to last long but, you still want to blow his mind.

“I’m already so close jagi...I’m sorry...” He chokes on the end of his sentence when you start a pace on his dick, “Oh fu- oh my god...”

“Shh...don’t be sorry, you’re doing so good. You cum whenever you need to ok?”  

“Ah- Y/N...”  

His beautiful features are screwed up in pleasure, his hands falling off your hips because, he literally doesn’t have the strength to hold on at this point.

Jungkook’s breathing is growing rapid, as his eyes flit to where you’re connected, “Jagi I’m- I’m really inside...I’m really inside of you...” He marvels, his voice weak with emotion as his hips begin to meet yours.  

“You feel so good inside of me.” You assure him, increasing your pace which prompts his eyes to roll back momentarily.

“Will you kiss me? Please? I wanna kiss you when I cum...and I’m-” His eyes re-focus but, it doesn’t last long as you lean forward to brace your hands on either side of his head, “Jagi I’m gonna cum already...I’m gonna cum so hard. Oh sh- shit...”

You want every wish of his to come true.

You lean down to connect your lips, your hips moving faster and faster, wanting him to cum harder than he ever has in his entire life.

He whimpers into your mouth as his sweaty hands hold you tightly against his body.

“It’s...fuck I’m sorry, I’m sor- I'm cumming.” He chokes out, his grip tightening intensely as his hips weakly jerk with the force of his release.

He says your name as he cums inside of you, trying his best to kiss you properly but, it’s wet and sloppy.

You don’t care though, you ride him through his orgasm, keeping your lips connected.

“There you go, cum for me baby...” You coo, kissing all over his face as the pleasure continues to wrack his senses.

Jungkook knows his never cum harder in his life and, by the time his orgasm settles down, he’s properly spent.

He doesn’t completely register the feeling of you sliding off of him as his whole body is alight with tingles.

You make sure to clean him up, pressing gentle kisses to his stomach as you do.

You didn’t cum this time and, to be honest, it doesn’t really matter.

What you’ve both just experienced was too intimate to measure and, orgasms weren’t really the point this time.

Tucking into your boyfriend’s body you bring him close, tugging the duvet over his shoulders this time...

“Hi” He whispers, tucking his face shyly into your neck, his breathing not fully recovered.

“Hi you...”  

With a smile on your mouth, you press a kiss to his head, holding him tightly to you.

He kisses your chest, feeling ridiculous at how shy he suddenly feels, “I think-” He stops himself to peek up at you, a bit of moisture in his eyes, “I think I’m falling for you.”

Your heart throbs at his confession, kissing his lips once more before whispering, “I think I am too.”

Jungkook knows you didn’t finish and, he plans on addressing that when he settles down but right now, all he can do is hold you.

He thinks he’s finally figured it out:

You can’t plan a perfect moment because, perfection just doesn’t exist.

But as along as he’s with you, it doesn’t really matter.

[2021fuckitup]

“ WE GET HIGH WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM OUR FRIENDS”

Helpful hints for newborn to old fuckers...

Why A Torch Lighter Is Ideal:-Your product liquifies, then smokes, almost instantly

-It is MUCH easier to control the direction the meth flows, as well as what is receiving heat

-You can get MUCH bigger hits

-You can avoid burning it so much easier than with other flames

-No flickering flame

-Butane refills are cheap as fucking shit (I got a hairspray-sized bottle of Zippo butane for the price of 2 disposable lighters)

-Don’t burn your thumb as much

-Sessions can be initiated and/or finished faster

Downsides-If you don’t pay attention, you can burn the shit out of your product, or yourself. BE CAREFUL, PAY ATTENTION, AND BE PATIENT

-Smoke through your stash quicker

-Possibly worse burns because its hotter than a bic

How to smoke meth with torch lighter for beginners:

1)First ensure that your pipe is clean.

Why?

For the ice to smoke properly. DO NOT load fresh product in a pipe with product that has been smoked, burned, or otherwise heated. If you load fresh on top of a still smokable bowl, the new and old will melt/smoke at different speeds/temperatures (can’t remember which is which right now, but I think old smokes faster), ensuing that it is very difficult to evenly heat the product. Then you get spots where part of the crystalized mass liquifies and will move with the flame, but some of it needs more heat, and for me at least, some always gets burned or darkened, and has a bad taste. If you load fresh product in a pipe with burnt shit in there, IT WILL TASTE LIKE SHIT. It will often also not melt/smoke right, AND your new stuff will taste like burnt stuff, which is THE WORST taste in the world (IM0). (FYI-I’ve heard that blowing cigarette smoke through a oil pipe (like you were going to hit it, but exhaling smoke through it instead) removes the taste. I have tried with pot smoke and it didn’t work, but have read many people say that cigarettes work.

How to Clean the Inside of A Pipe-If it is not clean, a very easy method is to fill a microwavable container (like a coffee mug) with 50% water, 50% bleach, and put the pipe (bowl facing downwards) in the water.

-Put it in the microwave for 4 minutes (yes, seriously that long-I tried after 1, 2, and 3 minutes and it didn’t work. May even take 5.)

-Let cool. Once cooled, remove from mug and drain all water.

-Using Q-tips, insert through carb hole and “mop up” the stuff left in the bowl. This may take several qtips depending on the bowl. If there is still black/brown stuff in the bowl, apply more pressure

(be careful not to break the bowl by pressing the q tip too hard on the sphere, OR accidentally pressing on the side of the carb when trying to reach around inside with q tip.) If there is still stuff in there, I have read that small bits of Magic Eraser stuffed in, and manipulated with a pole (like a q tip) work wonders, but also have not tried.

How to Clean the Outside of a PiPE

-Using a wet rag, or balled-up wet paper towels/toilet paper/napkins/etc, rub the outside of the bowl. This should cause the stuff on the outside to transfer onto the paper.

-If this doesn’t work, steel wool may work.

Handling/Prepping Product

-Dont handle meth by hand. It’s bad for your skin, and little amounts will dissolve. Instead, use:

Ideally: a 7/11 straw (this is a straw whose last inch or so is a scoop, sometimes used for slurpees or w/e those frozen drinks are; these straws I have found to be ideal for handling all sorts of drugs).

Realistically: Normal Straw: Straw been sealed on one end (tape, seal it with flame), and on the other has a 45 degree angle (45 degree is diagonal; if you cut a square in half diagonally, the diagonal line is 45). This allows you to scoop small fragments out of a bag, tin, or other carrying device easily, as the angled mouth scoops up crumbs, especially in corners of bags; while the sealed back prevents any from accidentally spilling.

Size/Shape

-Make sure your product is all of the same consistency. I find it best to use one crystal, preferably large (but not to large). I find the size of a tic tac, or slightly larger, to be ideal. Also, cubic or rectangular is best possible shape IME. I will often break long, skinny crystals because they dont burn as well as more square ones, and broken into small squares, they will smoke more evenly.

-While you can load bigger crystals with smaller bits/shake, I generally find it is best to load similar sized rocks. That is, load all shake, load two or three crystals of equal size, or put one crystal in there (usually a big one).

-If you need to break a crystal into smaller bits to make equal sized crystals (or to make odd shaped crystal more square), place a sanitary, nonabsorbent material on top of/around the crystal (no dollars bills here, printer paper works great.) and either snap it in two, or push against a surface. If pressing, you can use a finger, debit card, whatever, just slowly apply more pressure so you can crush to consistency of your liking. If you crush it all the way, you have shake(aka powder).

Differences Between Methods

Single Crystal (often large): Crystal will slowly lose mass as it melts, evenly becoming a pool (as long as you thoroughly spread it around the bowl).

Multiple Little Ones: If you evenly heat them: Will slowly melt into each other. Will be left with a very spread-out puddle, possibly multiple spread out ones.

If unevenly heated: There will be areas meth of varying thickness, accompanied by uneven melting and probable darkening/burning,.

Shake: Will liquify very quickly; little bits that haven’t yet been heated may go to weird parts of the bowl when you begin twisting, so you end up with tiny blotches and a single large or a few smaller puddles.

Loading Product

-Using straw, scoop your product into the chamber. Keeping upright, grab oil pipe and tilt at an angle so that the carb is pointing sideways, or angled down slightly. This will allow you to insert straw opening into carb before tipping the straw, ensuring you don’t miss the hole and lose any.

-Once inserted, twist pipe (while holding onto straw of course) until carb is once again pointing up. Tap straw to get all the little bits into the pipe (if meth is still sticking, use a scraper of some kind).

-Remove straw, and put pipe on level surface, BETWEEN TWO OBJECTS. THE PIPE WILL ROLL PEOPLE, AND WILL SPILL ALL YOUR GODDAMN PRODUCT AND/OR FALL ON THE FLOOR AND BREAK. UGH!

Now that you have a loaded pipe, ensure that you are ready to begin. Suggestions include

-Water

(lots of it!!) Both meth and smoking dehydrate you, and the more dehydrated you are, the more you will suffer from dental damage and brain damage (neurotoxicity). A large amount of methamphetamine neurotoxicity (and most dopamine toxicity) is temperature-dependent, as it often induces hyperthermia (This is similar to MDMA, aka XTC, Molly, rolls, etc). Water cools your body.

You should be urinating with irritating frequency, and should be voiding clear urine, otherwise you are already dehydrated (unless taking assloads of vitamins or something).

-Music

I can’t even describe how much music enhances the experience of smoking meth. It synergizes well-the meth makes the music sound insane, and in turn the music intensifies the high, making me feel even more intelligent/strong/attractive/cool/special. This is the part of the high I crave, and it rarely occurs (at least with the intensity I like) without music.

-Spare lighter/butane refill

When smoking meth, you are always running out of fuel. The spare lighter is also useful because lighters get really hot when ignited for long periods of time (like when smoking meth) and you can swap them out.

-Wet (but not sopping) rag or bundled tissues/paper towels/toilet paper/etc

This is to set the pipe on when not using it (a hot pipe will burn fabrics, fucking up whatever its on as well as the pipe), and to cool down the pipe after a hit. The pipe stays hot for a while, and if you don’t hit it, drugs are being lost/wasted. If you cool the pipe, it will stop heating the drugs faster (duh). Do not do this immediately after getting the pipe really hot-heat and cold on glass can break it. Wait for it to cool slightly, then use it.

When you use the rag to cool underneath liquified dope, it will emit a lot of smoke while crystalizing I read somewhere that the meth actually vaporizes/produces smoke when it hits cooler surface, but I don’t know the validity of that. I do know that cold makes it smoke more though.

-Salt Water

Swishing and gargling salt water while smoking meth (ie after a hit, and definitely after a session) will help prevent canker sores, help kill bacteria (which will inhibit meth mouth) clear mucus in back of throat (which will build up from smoking ice, and may possibly absorb some of it), and prevent sore throat. Its really easy-just add table salt to water (not too much). Some people say to use hot water, but there is more bacteria in hot water pipes, so I use cold.

-Biotene Products

These are oral healthcare products designed to combat dry mouth. There is an oral gel that you kind of spread in your mouth and coats it to act like a artificial saliva. It tastes kinda bad (not awful) and feels weird, but it beats dry/cracking skin, and is good for oral health. They also make alcohol-free (alcohol makes dry mouth worse) mouthwash that I find makes me produce a bnch of saliva for like 10-30 minutes, which can be helpful. They have toothpaste, but that is only to not irritate dry mouth. Finally, they have oral mouthspray, which is apparently the best, but I have not tried yet.

-Weed

Weed makes meth smoking more fun I find. Its hard to describe. Go slow as you may have negative anxiety reaction

Positioning:

The pipe will need to be twisted back and forth, so for me, I hold it in the middle of the stem between my middle finger and thumb. This allows me to easily roll the pipe back and forth. The carb is facing the sky/ceiling, and I have the pipe slanted, so the bowl is slightly closer to the floor than the mouthpiece. This allows me to put my index finger over the mouthpiece. so that when I first heat up the bowl all the initial smoke (that you will not yet inhale because it is not super thick and you want to build up a good hit) goes up the stem and is trapped by my finger rather than out through the little carb hole (which it will do when the stem is filled with smoke). Finally, it also allows me to use my pinky to cover the carb (I rarely do this because often the carb is hot).

Lighter

[Torch] Lighter is held in the other hand, underneath the dope in the bowl. Adjust your flame to lowest setting (if you can). While initially hitting the bowl, since your mouth is not on the mouthpiece, you can hold the pipe in front of you while you heat to gaug distance between flame and bowl, and make sure the flame is under the drugs. However, once you begin inhaling, you have a much worse view (through the bowl), and it is easy to hold the lighter too close (or far, but usually close), or to have it not even under the bowl. Due to poor depth perception (which I assume is from the drugs), or some visual warping from the curvature of the glass, its really easy to do this, and happens a lot. A mirror is helpful so you can see yourself. Another option is attaching flexible tubing (like aquarium tubing) to the mouthpiece so you can inhale through that while holding the pipe in front of you. This will also enable you to make meth bongs (search it).

Philosophy of Smoking Meth

Meth becomes a clear liquid when heated, then vaporizes into a white smoke. The idea is to heat whatever you placei n the pipe evenly so that it all melts down to liquid, then, by twisting the pipe, spread the liquid all around the bowl, so that it doesn’t stay in a hot place for too long and burn. Once liquified, the pipe can be twisted. This allows you to put your flame ahead of the liquid (think of the liquid chasing the flame), so that once the glass is heated, it will fall/roll down the curve towards your lighter and smoke. As you get close carb, you begin to twist the other way, keeping the liquid following your flame. However, with a torch lighter, you can soon twist the pipe without the flame and the liquid will still run for a while, and when it doesn’t is when you reapply the flame.

Quick Info On Torch Lighters

Torch lighters are very hot, much hotter than bics. Their flame is much more intense, and the heat above is much hotter than a bic. Therefore, you must keep much more distance between your lighter and pipe than with a bic. It will vary according to lighter type, pipe thickness, and especially flame size; but my flame is maybe between 1/3 and ½ of an inch, and my lighter stays 1-3 inches away from the pipe; with me increasing distance the longer its lit.

-Also, you do not heat the bowl with a torch lighter for long periods of time like you do a bic. Once it begins to smoke, quit using the lighter, and only reapply once the liquid quits moving when you twist the pipe. Also, be sure to twist pipe while lighting the whole time with a torch lighter, even if it is slowly. You cannot really get away with heating in one spot for a short period of time like you can with a bic.

Smoking

Premelt:

-Keeping your flame 1-2 inches below the bowl, roll flame in a circle around the perimeter of your product, so the outermost portion begins to liquify. Remember to continue moving the flame.

-As it begins to liquify, begin twisting the pipe back and forth. You want to heat the edges of the product and then the glass adjacent to the edges to make it flow there. However, when reversing the direction of the twist, make sure to heat the inside/middle for a moment as well so that it will melt once the dope bordering it has melted.

-Eventually you will have a puddle of liquid that is mobile-stop heating! COntinue to twist the pipe to spread the stuff around and wait for it to recrystalize (turn back into a liquid). You can speed this up by touching pipe with damp rag/paper towels/etc, but I like to let it cool by itself the first time. Wait for the pipe to cool down-its worth it.

Smoking

(this is assuming you are covering the mouthpiece and have the pipe angled like I mentioned in positioning)

-Now you should have a thin puddle of clear crystals stuff. Once again, heat with flame around the perimeter (much bigger this time, but it will also melt faster now because its thinner). Once melted, it should soon begin to smoke. Cease lighting once it begins smoking a fair bit and continue to twist.

-Because you have your finger over the mouthpiece and the pipe angled, the hot vapor will travel up the stem, and be trapped. Once vapor begins to emerge out of the carb hole, quickly take your finger off the stem and begin inhaling (do this quick because the stem is filled with vapor).

To Inhale:

You do not need to actually suck most of the time. With the pipe angled, simply forming a seal on the mouthpiece is usually enough, and if you have to inhale, do not suck like smoking. Instead, inhale like you are breathing but VERY slowly/softly. It takes very little pressure and the bigger hit you get, the better IMO.

Reheating

Use the torch for very brief periods of time. Once the liquid is moving and smoking agian, stop. You can also use more, but never use less once its burned.

Finishing your hit:

If your lungs are full and it is still smoking, cover the carb and mouthpiece and continue twisting. I like to hold my hits for 4-8 seconds, some say blow out right away, but I dont like that. You can also use a damp rag or damp paper towels/toilet paper/napkins/etc and wipe the bowl, to cool it down and make the liquid recrystalize faster (dont do this when the bowl is still super hot because it can break it). This will make it smoke a lot for a second so I like to do it while inhaling.

For Experienced Users:I have found the torch lighter to be far superior to the bic. With the bic, I would experience uneven and slow heating/melting. Now, I have almost instantaneous liquification, followed by thick smoke, and as long as I use the torch sparingly, no darkening of product. The trick is to be patient and methodical:

-Use the torch 1-3 inches away from the bowl

-Move it quickly

-“Encourage” the liquid to trael all over the bowl by leading it with the flame

-Use inward swirling movements, especially during the melting phase

-I recommend using single, squareish crystals for this.

[bunnyywritings]

May I please have headcanons on how hawks and grown up!midoriya would react if their daughter turned into a villain if it's ok? Thanks!!

their daughter becoming a villain

[a/n: this is such an amazing prompt! Thank you anon 💓I’m guessing the daughter is the reader? If that’s not what you had in mind then go ahead and let me know ☺️ I tried to make it as angsty as possible, I hope you enjoy! Uhh these came out longer than I thought...sorry -yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´-]

takami keigo

✾ he honestly had no idea you existed

✾ he was on parole one day and there was an incident

✾ he was too far to help but he saw the headlines

✾ the hero had completely disregarded the woman being held hostage and had gone for the villain

✾ this resulted in the woman being brutally murdered

✾ his stomach churned as he shut off the tv, she had looked vaguely familiar but he shrugged it off

✾ later on in the day, he got a call

✾ he had a kid...a daughter to be exact

✾ the woman he had just seen on tv was the mother, someone he had a one night stand with and forgot about

✾ so there he was, sat across from a 13 year old with his wings and her mother’s lightning, who had refused to talk to him

✾ it took a few months but you finally warmed up to him, even calling him dad/papa

✾ you had gotten accepted into UA and were very excited

✾ it wasn’t till the anniversary came up, you though you had repressed the memory but it all rushed back

✾ and as time went on, everyone saw the change

✾ you were questioning the principles of being a hero, questioning why heroes were in the right and all villains were automatically in the wrong just because they didn’t agree with the ideals of being a hero

✾ the last nail in the coffin was when you met Dabi

✾ it was completely by accident but you had recognized him and had asked him what it was like to be in the LOV

✾ he was gonna completely brush you off since he knew why your wings looked familiar but the tears in your eyes and the genuine pain in your voice tugged at his heart and he had taken you to the hide out and had somehow convinced shigaraki to hear you out

✾ he did and invited you to join...an invitation that you had greatfully accepted

✾ sneaking back into the house, you got a few things and left nothing but a feather on your pillow

✾ that was the last time your dad saw you

✾ until...

-

After having run away from home, you were confined to the LOV hideout for a bit because police and heroes alike were searching for you and Shigaraki didn’t want you to draw attention.

Taking a page from Dabi’s book, you bleached and dyed your hair. It was now a bright, fun color instead of the drab natural hair you had before. You quite liked it. Your wings, however, were the same maroon as before. There wasn’t much you could do about it, at least not until one day that Toga had rushed into the hideout with some pet safe dye she bough. It would effectively dye your wings without damaging them and without needing to use bleach. Whenever you looked into the mirror, you barely recognized yourself. Your hair a fiery red and wings a jet black. Dabi had even given you a few piercings per your request, your favorite was the tongue one.

“Hmm so what d’you think?” You hummed, sticking your tongue out to show the metal stud.

“Ooh (y/n)! You look so adorable!” Toga squealed in delight.

“I agree, it looks super cute!” Twice agreed before downturning his thumb. “Looks terrible! Any hero with a magnet quirk would rip it out!” You giggled and thanked him.

Dabi watched from the side, a small smile tugging at his lips. It had been a bout a year since you had joined and he had noticed that you were way happier than before. He had felt a connection with you and he couldn’t help but see you almost as a little sister. He looked out for you, made sure you were eating and sleeping well.

After you had been missing for around two years, Keigo gave up looking for you. He had lost hope of ever finding you. There was a new villain who had joined the league that he had to worry about, it didn’t seem like they were up to anything violent...just petty crime. He couldn’t help but notice that as the anniversary of your mothers’ death came up, the crimes got more and more violent. It wasn’t until he was called on the scene that he had realized why.

On that day, Shigaraki had called a meeting. You were finally going to get the chance to get justice for your mother and there was absolutely no hesitation when you had agreed to come along. You had just through you were going to go in and smack him around a bit. You definitely did and it was more than a bit, but he was still breathing when you left him a limp mess on the ground...just barely. What you hadn’t noticed was that Dabi had gone in after you and set fire to the agency, after making sure those who weren’t targets had made it out. So you were a bit surprised to see the building being engulfed by gorgeous blue flames. Dabi smirked and threw an arm around your shoulder.

“How’s it feel kid? He finally paid up.”

“Yeah, and I say good riddance.” You smirked along with him, absolutely no remorse in your voice.

“B-aby bird?” You cringed at the name. Dabi frowned as he felt you tense up. Both of you turning around to see Hawks and Endeavor. He couldn’t believe it was really you. “(Y-Y/n)...w-what did you do to y-yourself?” There was tears in his eyes as he looked you over. Watching as you rolled your eyes, reaching a gloved hand up and removing the muzzle like mask from your face.

“What do you think Keigo?” You spat, “I got justice. That disgusting excuse for a human being murdered my mother and was basically praised for it!”

“That’s still a human being...where’s his justice?” His mind was racing, trying to figure out what in the hell was going on.

“We just gave him his justice, bird-brain!” Dabi snickered from beside you.

“You’re more angry about this bastards death than my mother’s?” You stalked over to your ‘father.’ “HOW DARE YOU! My mother was INNOCENT! She was held hostage and murdered because a hero wanted to make it on the front page!” Your feathers ruffling up with your anger, lightning crackling to life around them.

“I thought-but you said you wanted to be a hero? W-what happened?”

Scoffing, you brought your finger up to your cheek and pulled down the skin under your eye, tongue sticking out and a wicked look in your eye. “Things change pops! Try and catch me if you can!” You felt Kurogiri’s warp gate ruffle your feathers and you tugged at Dabi’s coat sleeve. He threw his arm around you once again and stuck his tongue out at both pro heroes as well, Keigo took notice of the matching tongue piercings the both of you had. “I’ve got a new family, I don’t need a phony holding me back.” You winked, flapping your wings and both you and Dabi leaned back and fell into the the purple mist. While Dabi’s heart swelled with warmth at your words, Keigo’s grew cold and crumbled into little pieces. He fell to his knees, holding out both his hands to catch the stray feather that had floated down. He gently caressed it with his gloved thumb, gazing sadly at the faded black dye, the natural maroon was faint but it shone through.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Kicking himself and trying to see where everything went wrong.

He lost his baby...he wasn’t sure if he’s ever bounce back from it. Not only was it the day that your mother died but it was the day he lost you too.

pro! midoriya izuku

✰ never would he had thought that things would end up like this

✰ he had been blessed with a beautiful wife, but with a healthy set of twins

✰ a baby boy and girl

✰ however, you were both quirkless

✰ either way, you and your brother were loved and cared for

✰ you grew up idolizing both All Might and your father

✰ it wasn’t until the both of you were going to take UA entrance exam that it happened

✰ you both new that he had possessed One for All

✰ so when your brother had suddenly manifested a quirk, your heart broke

✰ Midoriya watched as tears cascaded down your cheeks, a blank look in your eyes

✰ you couldn’t believe it, he had passed it down to your brother...

✰ you withdrew your application for the hero course and applied to the General Studies course

✰ with your grades alone, you instantly got in

✰ and even as your father congratulated you, you could see the overwhelming pride in his eyes as he praised your brother for getting into the Hero Course

✰ it wasn’t until your third year that you had enough

✰ you watched your brother receive special treatment, how he flew through each semester with absolutely shit grades but he was going to take your father’s place as the symbol of hope

✰ you watched your brother become the pride and joy of the family

✰ your accomplishments never even got any attention, always being brushed off by your father who was too busy helping with your brother’s training

✰ even your mom ignored you in favor of babying your brother

✰ so you left

✰ it took them a whole three days to notice

✰ in the first week of working as what society viewed as a “villain”, you made quite the name for yourself, in your first year of working...well, let’s just say that there was a good amount of heroes on the look out for you

✰ in reality, the villains were the ones abusing their power to oppress those that lacked those insignificant quirk cells...those a re the people you got rid of

✰ you had captured a low level “hero” that had been framing innocent people for crimes they didn’t commit, all to get his name to the top of some stupid list

✰ that’s when your father saw you again

-

“How pathetic.” You spat, wiping the blood from your Bowie knife on your black cargo pants. The man whimpered in fear, still trying to escape his restraints. Relacing your boots, you stomped on his ankle. A sickening crack echoeing through the empty room. Tears leaked from his blindfold. “This would be so much easier if you confessed, y’know?” You chuckled manically, gazing into the camera before refocusing on the task at hand. “No? Okay then.” Shrugging, you pulled the cloth sack over his head.

You fixed the plain face mask that you had worn and made your way into the convenience store and picked up some cheap and quick things to eat before heading back to the abandoned warehouse that was working as your base for now

What you hadn’t noticed, was the person following you. They watched as you entered the building.

“Deku...I can’t believe I’m saying this but I think it’s her.” He spoke into the earpiece. “I’m going in.”

Back inside, you sighed and tossed the wrapper of your meat bun to the side. You were growing irritated. You had this man chained up for three days and he hadn’t said a word. No matter how much you cut at his skin, no matter how much you made him bleed. Growling, you went to your table of toys and grabbed a gun and reloaded the magazine. The sound of a cocking gun made the hero quiver in fear.

“Alright, I’m done playing games with you!” You pulled off the cloth hood and ripped off his blindfold. You placed the muzzle of the gun right under his chin. “Confess or pay for your sins!” His lips quivered.

You were intimidating, despite technically still being a third year. You had a mask that was similar to Shinso’s artificial vocal cords, it distorted your voice and your eyes were wide with insanity. Your outfit could be classified as tech wear. You had a harness strapped above the black long sleeve you were wearing. Multiple knives and other weapons strapped to the harnesses on your thighs.

He stayed silent, eyes glossing over with more tears as you pressed the cold metal into his skin. “OKAY! OKAY! I DID IT!” His voice cracked as a satisfied smirk played on your lips.

“What did you do, Mr. Hero?”

“I-I framed all those people. The ones in jail, people that were put on death row. They’re innocent!”

“Good to know Mr.” You giggled. “The jury finds you guilty of all accusations, Penalty: Death.” You grinned.

“WAIT-!”

A gunshot echoed through the warehouse as he fell limp in his chair. The splattering of warm blood against your skin made you shiver.

“Great, now I’m all dirty...” You sighed.

Just before anything else happened, an explosion sent you skidding across the room.

The dust clearing and your eyes widened. “Uncle Katsuki?” You asked softly.

When Bakugo saw the blood, he panicked that he had hurt you but then he noticed the body that had fallen to the ground. Gun still in your hand. Anger bubbled in his chest.

“YOU DAMN IDIOT!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-“ Before he could finish his reprimands, Shoto ran in.

“Uncle Shoto...” The fog in your head cleared as memories of simpler times flooded your brain. The days where you’d get spoiled by Uncle Katsuki and Shoto before they had their own kids. The comfort they offered you before you ran off.

Shoto took advantage of your distraction and slowly approached you. “(Y/n)...sweetheart I need you to put the gun down okay? You’re safe now.” The look in your eyes was too familiar. It was the way his mother’s eyes looked when he first saw her in the hospital. Broken, lost, terrified. He knew you weren’t in your right mind. Hope filled both him and Katsuki as your trembling hand held the gun out to him. Of course, that was until-

“(Y/N)!!” You flinched, snapping out of your docile state. Eyes hardening once more as you kicked away form Todoroki’s knelt form. Seeing your father filled you with absolute rage.

Midoriya froze, eyes running over the scene. Realization setting in as he saw the gun clutched in your hand.

“D-did you do that?” He asked, eyes glossy.

“And what about it?” You giggled. “Why do you care all of a sudden? HUH? DAD? WHY NOW?!”

“You’re a murderer (y/n)...a villain.”

“Better than being a phony and pathetic hero! I’M NOT IN IT FOR THE MONEY!” You growled, cocking the gun and pointing it at Midoriya. “But he was. He’s had dozens of people locked away for life, people sent to the electric chair for things they didn’t do...all because he wanted to be in the top 10.” You shrugged, biting your lip coyly. “He’s the real villain here, not me.”

Midoriya clenched his fists, holding in his tears. It felt like his heart was violently being ripped from his chest. “I thought I raised you better. How do you think your mom feels? Or grandma? Your own brother-“

“Uhm, news flash! This is all your fault! Plus, I couldn’t care less about my degenerate of a brother!” That’s what made Shoto and Katsuki realize what happened. “WHY?! WHY HIM?!” They were all caught off guard by the tears that drenched your cheeks. “I worked hard and did my best...but that wasn’t enough for you! He was failing all his studies but NOBODY CARED! He was your successor and that was enough! I got a B on my final exam and all you did was give me a lecture about the importance of studying...HE FAILED! HE GOT AN F AND ALL YOU SAID WAS TO TRY HARDER NEXT TIME!”

The tears finally escaped Midoriya’s eyes. ‘Did he really do that to you?’ ‘Had he been such a terrible father that it drove you to this?’

“HOW WAS A QUIRKLESS DISSAPOINTMENT LIKE ME SUPPOSED TO COMPETE WITH THE GREAT DEKU’S SUCCESSOR?! YOU BASICALLY SET ME UP FOR FAILURE!” The tears were streaming down your face but instead of sobs leaving your lips, they were replaced by deranged giggles. “It’s okay Papa...don’t feel bad. It’ll all end soon.” No one noticed when you pulled the pin from the sphere in your hand. Not until the flash bang went off and everyone turned to shield their eyes.

Once they regained their senses, you were far gone. Leaving behind empty meat bun wrappers and several cassettes taped with confessions of those that you had ruled guilty. He screamed. It was so gutteral that it hadn’t sounded human. His body filled with dread and anguish.

“I’m sorry (y-y/n)...I never meant to-“ A choked sob interrupted his whispers. Then another...then another. Both Katsuki and Shoto watched helplessly as their friend completely broke down. Their hearts heavy as well. The little girl they watched grow up was gone.

“I lost her...she’s gone.”

𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱(open) : @ohbois-biggay-bnha @yuiji-yuiji

[youwontlikethisblog]

I'm not a woman of my word lol

LMBO SCREW IT I'LL TALK ABOUT MORE THAN ONCE SCENE JUST DON'T EXPECT IT TO BE GOOD(honestly I want to binge watch the entire show but then see one thing and I'm like this deserves an entire post!)

Betty brings him his caldo and he gets in the way and takes it from her hands and thanks her. The phone rings and she rushes to her office and Mario mocks him by saying "Oh but she spoils you" Armando then turns to look at Betty's office like he realized that she is like that with him.

However the moment is ruined, remember again how when Mario told Armando that Nicolas was after their money even then Armando didn't want to continue with the plan but now that he hears Betty's conversation with Nicolas all of a sudden 'it's for the good for the company I must make her fall in love'. This clashes stupidly with the actions before.

"Ay Betty, I don't know if I woke up with my liver or brain because everything is still party, praty, point is I woke up with a pretty bad hangover."

Betty not once has gotten mad, showed annoyance or really indicated to Armando that she personally cares about him and his hangover as she tells him that the caldo is only because he needs to be on his best for the sake of the company's benefit.

Now Armando hears Betty upset with Nicolas over his drinking as she says:

"Ay no, Nicolas. Don't tell me you started to drink with him."

Nicolas goes on to say he is an easy prey to peer pressure and that the word no is not in his vocab that if she sees it floating around there to send it his way.

"I just don't like for you to go into those kinds of places where you spend it drinking." now Armando seems annoyed and Mario looks at him shocked at what he's hearing.

Armando and Mario have now first hand witnessed the dynamic of Nicolas and Betty in the work world. Nicolas informs Betty of the situation Eco Moda/Terra Moda is facing and Betty calls the shots. Just like Betty had told them two days before.

So it shouldn't be a cause of concern as now Betty proceeds to tell them exactly what went down, again showing that they are trustworthy.

I don't have to explain once more who is concerned and worry about who and what. *See the Betty, My Betty posts 1-3

Mario then tells Armando(After he[Mario] sent off a guilty Betty to get some paperwork from Marcela) that he doesn't like that Nicolas is becoming friends with the lawyers and he needs to prepare for a sober night with Betty.

Armando doesn't say anything.

Again, it could not be more clear who is actually distrusting in this situation.

Betty walks into Marcela's office and after she sees she's busy she goes off on a daydream, more like a day-nightmare as we see the penance of her guilty conscious accuse her in the form of Marcela.

As Betty returns to their offices Patty stops her and asks when she's getting her paycheck, to which Betty replies that she doesn't know but sometime that weekend and goes to Armando's office.

In there she gently shuts the door and in a low tone tells him that Marcela didn't have the papers. Armando now turns away from her and gives her his back, again this could show guilt but also anger(that she showed more concern over Nic being hungover than him) as he doesn't want to see her. Betty then proceeds to ask him if he's alright to which he replies that he has a hellish headache.

Betty tells him she'll get him some pain relief and picks up the tray of dishes to take with her. In this moment as Betty nears the door Patty opens the doors loudly and starts to yell.

Betty looks mad at Patty as she is yelling at Armando.

Why does she?

Betty has been very, extremely, attentive to Armando, more than the usual. She's taken notice of his demeanor, respected his evasiveness, spoken in a more hushed voice, gotten him food to get him to feel better, hasn't made much noise knowing that he's hungover and trying to keep his office peaceful and calm as well as instantly telling him she'd get him some relief for his headache but in an instant all of her efforts to keep him well are brought down by Patty who goes to at yell at him for her paycheck.

One: well she legit threw away all her work to keep Armando at peace

Two: she doesn't like that Patty is yelling at him and accusing her.

"[...] Betty when will it be possible to pay this...bleach blonde?"

Betty clears her throat and gently speaks "until this weekend. I had already talked to her about it, Sir."

More talking, Armando asks Betty to bring him what she promised and she tells him "right away" and leaves, Patty then pushes her away and Betty gently shuts his office doors.

She returns with the alka-seltzer and a glass of water for him and sets it in front of him. He once again keeps his eyes low.

Betty jokingly tells him that she warn him not too drink too much and now he's got a bad hangover and she laughs lightly. She then tells him she'll go get the paperwork from Marcela once more and asks if Mario has his too.

As she leaves the office Armando looks in pain because of his headache and again, guilty.

Betty stands outside Marcela's office door as she hear her and Patty talk bad about how she's dressed and how embarrassing it must've been for Armando to be seen with her the night before. They start to insult her and downplay Betty and she visibly looks upset but not in a sad way but angry.

This pushes Betty to not feel guilty over the entire situation(affair to be) with Armando.

This is her first mistake.

Her second being she is permitting herself to be involved and a willing participant in an affair with an engaged man. Armando isn't the only one to blame about this. They are both responsible and at fault for the dissolving of a (toxic) relationship and engagement. Did he make the first advances? Yes but at the end when the ball was in her court she willinging decided to throw her shot. This was her biggest sin, up to this point.

Betty is now talking about the sales report that Marcela gave her and the money they have to pay the banks. She then tells him that she'd like to talk to Mario regarding his reports. Armando has his shades, covering with his hand around his eyes, again he isn't able to make eye contact with Betty and doesn't want her to see him.

He then removes his shades and while explaining that Mario might be busy he tries to make eye contact but again looks away from her.

They both agree to wait for Mario and FINALLY after everything that has happened they make eye contact.

The previous times that Armando and Betty have had to wait for someone to call, or show up to the office Betty stared at Armando who would then catch her and tell her to get going or basically kicked her out of his office however this time it plays out differently.

They make eye contact for a minute or so.

While Armando is tense but staring at Betty she starts to get fidgety in her seat and says "I'll go wait in my office, Sir."

This time Betty is the one that removes herself and not Armando basically kicking her out or sending her away from him.

(I just realized I finished my cheese crackers and this makes me sad)

Armando then calls Mario to please get to his office that he can't be by himself with Betty anymore.

Now something happened with Sofia bla bla bla.

Mario shows up at Armando's office and asks if anything has happened, if she has exceeded herself with bla bla bla and Armando tells him that nothings happened.

"She talks about the banks, the payroll, about the loans, she talks about everything minus what we need to talk about." Armando (WANTS TO TALK ABOUT THE KISS WITH BETTY HE WANTS TO BE VULNERABLE WITH HER. Okay now that my irrational side has let lose let's get to the objective writer side.) displays a classic behavior of confusion and sadness.

"Which is?" Mario shrugs.

"Well what happened last night. Calderon, I don't know if this is right or wrong but I'm starting to feel really awful. I feel really uncomfortable when I'm by myself with her. The only thing she's scolded me for is this hellish hangover I've got."

Armando isn't scared that Betty is going to take advantage of him or cross lines. He feels uncomfortable because Betty won't talk about it, like it's not a big deal or important to her. He feels uncomfortable with the silence of it all and he's having to fill in the blanks.

Now Marcela and Sofia are talking about about Jasmine and Sofia getting fired.

The other day I was writing a draft for Armando's toxic behavior(I said I'd write a post dedicated to just his toxic/abusive tendencies) and hit this wall of realization. While to some degree I connect with Marcela being a victim of gaslighting, to another it's really hard to understand why she is in the relationship even though she shows no sign of insecurity or bad self-image/worth or threaten to stay. See when I was in this terrible toxic friendship I was gaslit to the point that their perception of me became mine I still remember the exact day I looked at myself in the mirror and broke down in tears calling myself ugly(I'm fine now lol) and I still remember the feelings I felt every time I was given the cold-shoulder and silent treatments as a form of punishment for calling the out on their lies while having witnesses(Now I wasn't a saint sometimes my anger would blind me and I'd say pretty mean stuff. This is why I call it a toxic friendship). To this day I feel shame for that and find ways to blame myself for it all. Gaslighting isn't just manipulation it is the warping of someone's reality and their understanding of the world surrounding them. It really messes you up.

So as much as I want to be understanding of Marcela and find excuses as to why she stays that don't have to do with her ego, I can't.

The thing is that when you are a victim of abuse you don't have an ego. You don't stay with the person because you believe they're the only person you'll ever love, no, you stay because you believe they are the only person who will ever love you and these are two very different mindsets.

In this episode you can see that. Marcela doesn't have bad self-image or self-worth. She thinks she's above the women that Armando sleeps with. She believes she's above Betty. She has a pretty big ego. She often places herself before anyone. She takes Armando's decisions as personal attacks which means she believes to be the center of his universe. All of these are characteristics of someone with a big ego. She doesn't compare herself to Armando's conquest but rather blames them for his affairs. They're the bad ones because they decided to sleep with him(yes they are to blame because they are aware of his relationship statues but so is Armando and she needs to hold that fool accountable as well) because Armando is just a fool who likes to shove it where he can, as long as they've got statues. She knows Armando has a strict palate for women and the fact the he is marrying her means she's the best of the best, even with affairs being involved.

I can go on and on about this which is why I'm dedicating a post to Marcela just about this(It's in my drafts. I need to watch the rest of the show to really understand her character. I don't just want to be like "Marcela is the only abuser" because she's not. ) Anyway this scene just reminded me of that because here she displays that boastful attitude as she tells Sofia to behave and have dignity regarding Jasmine working there and that she'll talk to Guti Guti regarding the cuartel being fired for standing with Sofia but that she'll accept Betty's resignation letter.

(Honestly watching Bertha eat Ruffles makes me crave them rn)

The ending of this episode is Marcela kissing Armando good-bye and telling him she'll wait for him at her apartment.

This wasn't a heavily emotional episode so there isn't much to breakdown however the small bits we do get move the plot forward and are details that are important to the coming episodes.

The one scene I am really looking forward to breaking down, that totally highlights this whole "Armando is in denial" plot is the one where he fights Roman and his friends.

But until then I'll see y'all next time!

[insfiringyou]

BTS - Going Solo (Part One) - Jimin x Ara

Contains: Angst. *Potential trigger warning for descriptions of panic attacks*

Set a few months following their scene in ‘Private Moments’, Ara is faced with a decision which will change the course of her future. 

(Part Two will be uploaded soon, after a few fics focusing on some of the other members.)

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & our full masterlist of fanart and fanfictions can be found here

If you wish to follow all member’s storylines in chronological order from the beginning, you can find them listed here.

Content below the cut

‘Jimin,

We just spoke, and you asked if I was happy. I think I am. At least most days.’

Ara typed slowly. Her nails had just been manicured and were longer than she was used to. The sound of acrylics against the keyboard rang through the small hotel room. 

‘When I’m with you I can feel really happy. You can be so sweet and loving and I appreciate you always check up on me - to make sure I’m okay. Touring is hard. You know it better than anybody else, and you tried to prepare me for it.’

She gave a soft sigh, knowing no one else would hear. The words were spilling out of her fingers before her brain had time to catch up, though she knew based on experience she would eventually work out what she was trying to say. The room was dark and the white glow from the word document was starting to make her eyes water. The contact lenses had been in all day and were getting on her nerves. Still, she persevered. She could remove them once she had finished. 

‘I’ve been asked to renew my contract.’

She stopped typing, heart thudding, and realised she felt scared. Her hand moved automatically to her stomach and she exhaled slowly before taking a deep, drawn out breath. She had been practicing and it had gotten easier. At first she would panic, and find her chest rising and falling like crazy, on the verge of hyperventilation, but soon she learned the trick; it was her stomach which was supposed to be moving, not her chest. Her cheeks were a little warm and she knew it was shame she was feeling, not embarrassment. She hadn’t told him yet, despite having known for over a week. Tentatively, she continued, fingers picking up speed as she became used to the sensation of the new nails. 

‘You remember me telling you the first was on a trial basis, based on sales. Well - whatever target they set for us, we must have hit it. Even you have noticed the increase in publicity lately...the T.V appearances. They’ve asked me to film a reality show. I don’t know what they’re expecting.’

Her brow furrowed, wondering...

‘I guess they might have asked you too?’

The laptop stayed silent for a long time and she rested her hands against the small, cheap desk as she gazed at the screen. Her mind suddenly seemed blank and she felt stupid. She would never send the document to Jimin, just as she hadn’t sent the ones she had written before; three month’s worth of unopened, worthless ramblings saved in some obscure folder on her desktop, trapped in the harddrive somewhere between her acoustic recordings and photographs of hairstyles she had saved from Pinterest. She often wondered why she even bothered to save them. Her counsellor had told her, time and time again, that keeping a diary would be helpful. She could record her mood swings and track her periods, along with keeping count of what she ate; wholegrains made her bloated, red food colourings brought out a rash. She sometimes worried she might be lactose intolerant, though could handle it in coffee. That type of thing. She kept it up at first; bashfully bringing the sparkly diary into the small office she visited once a month and reciting what she had written to the man opposite. He would nod sympathetically as she spoke, making a comment from time to time; asking how she felt about what she had put. But the company was paying him to do this; all the girls went, and she sometimes wondered if it was the food diary he was really interested in. If her manager was keeping track, making sure she and the other members were not overdoing it on the full-fat salad dressing and milky lattes. 

The diary entries began to dwindle and, not long after her last week-long visit back to Seoul, the meaningless letters on her laptop started. They were usually addressed to Jimin, though she had written several to her father and one to her brother. She wasn’t good with words; she had been told that often enough at school when she would have to read out loud from the book of the week in Literature, or come up with an argument in Business Studies. Her mouth would stumble and she’d turn red, both ashamed and humiliated, until the teacher inevitably took pity on her and told her to sit back down. Writing in private was much easier, especially when she knew no one but her would see.

‘I don’t know how to feel.’

The cursor hovered, blinking at the end of the last line. There was a heavy knock at the door and Ara jumped, hands automatically reaching for the laptop lid, before a familiar female voice called out.

“Ara? Are you coming?”

She quickly gathered herself, clicking the save icon at the top of the screen. The company had arranged a group meal in the restaurant downstairs, though she had forgotten, her mind distracted by more pressing thoughts.

“In a minute…I just need to change my lenses.” She called back, moving her finger against the touchpad as a pop-up appeared. She selected the save button once more, mouth twisting as she read the title in the little window: ‘Untitled #12.’ She wondered if she would ever get around to renaming them properly.

***

“Your hair has so much texture. I wish mine were thicker.”

Ara murmured in reply before catching the young stylist’s reflection in the mirror and realising how rude she must have sounded. Da-eun had come to the company some months before and was undeniably sweet. Too sweet, Ara sometimes thought, for the business she was in. The other makeup artists and hairdressers loved to keep one ear to the wall, in case there was a chance of promotion or, she rather cynically suspected, a way to increase their pay by selling gossip, but Da-eun didn’t seem like that. At least not yet.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ara smiled into the glass at the figure behind her. “I’m glad I have you to do it for me. The roots are a nightmare!”

Da-eun returned the smile and seemed to relax, but a curious expression still played on her features as she ran the straightener gently across the dyed tips of hair. “Are you tired?”

“I didn’t get much sleep.” Ara confirmed, briefly closing her eyes. Da-eun knew not to press her, but she couldn’t help but worry the younger woman might know more than she was letting on. They had shared hotel rooms in the past and, perhaps it was the stylist's instinct, used to paying close attention to detail, but she always seemed to tell when something was amiss. It was frustrating sometimes. 

“I looked at the schedule. You’re not going on set until last so you’ll have time to rest before you go out.” Da-eun murmured helpfully. Ara nodded, relieved. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that Da-eun should quit while she could; while she was still young and hopeful and kind. 

“I just don’t have the energy right now…” Ara sighed as she felt her hair being released. The younger woman finished working the ends and unplugged the device from the dressing room table. 

“Did you sign the contract yet?” 

Her voice was inquisitive and a little optimistic. Ara had never asked, but there was always the chance that Da-eun’s contract was somehow tied to her own; that if the group were to disband, she might lose her job. Ara shook her head lightly.

“No.”

Da-eun raised an eyebrow. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“I just haven’t had time to read it properly.” She said, truthfully. “It’s come around sooner than I thought…”

The stylist moved forward, reaching for the set of hairbrushes on the counter, before selecting the biggest. She teased through the ends of hair with her short fingers before brushing lightly along the bleached roots, smoothing the locks. 

“There’s been rumours.” The younger woman said, voice suddenly low as though she were worried about being overheard. A thick curtain set apart the dressing room from the photography studio, but it was always possible someone was listening. 

Ara blinked, tensing a little. “What?”

Da-eun smiled gently. “That you’re making a solo album.”

“Oh…” The older woman wasn’t sure what she had expected, but this news took her by surprise. “I wasn’t planning on it.” She shrugged.

“That’s a relief.” Da-eun beamed with a small laugh. “I’m looking forward to going home soon. Aren’t you?”

Ara opened her mouth to speak, not sure what she was going to say, but the curtain beside them drew apart suddenly; startling them both. 

“Oh! Costume change…” Da-eun exclaimed, setting down the brush and turning to accommodate the older woman who had just entered. Mimi was a year older than Ara and usually less prone to accidents, but the leather strap on her camisole suggested a wardrobe malfunction which needed attending to at once.

“Sorry to interrupt…” The other woman murmured apologetically, gesturing to Da-eun. “Could you fix this for me?”

“Sure.” She nodded, stepping away.

Ara’s phone had vibrated against her thigh twenty minutes before but she hadn’t wanted to risk opening the text, especially with someone standing over her shoulder. As Da-eun seated Mimi in the rotating chair on the opposite side of the room to take a look at her costume, Ara took the moment to slip the device from her pocket and flick through the recent notifications. Unsurprisingly, it had been Jimin who had texted and she read the sentence a couple of times before returning it to her pocket.

‘Two more weeks. I’m looking forward to seeing you. It’s been too long.’ 

***

Ara sipped from the glass, the cool water clearing her throat and offering a much needed refreshment from the events of the day. Her voice had become raspy from singing, but luckily she didn’t need it to type. 

‘Jimin,

I was cleaning my closet before we went on tour and found the dress I was wearing on the night we met.’

She found herself smiling, a little longingly, at the memory, a strange anecdote coming to mind.

‘It still has a Daiquiri stain on the hem and it’s too big for me now. I don’t know why I’m saving it.’

The thought made her sad, somehow. 

‘I wonder if you remember that night as clearly as I do. I didn’t want to leave. I knew you were with someone else, but I didn’t care.’

A deep frown played on her otherwise gentle features.

‘Does that make me a bad person?’

It wasn’t until she read the line back, she realised the thought had never occurred to her before. Not once in five years. She wondered why it suddenly seemed to matter. With a sigh, she continued, committing her trail of thoughts to the page.

‘You told me it was over the next time we met, and I believed you, but part of me wondered if you’d go back to her, once you knew how inexperienced I was. I guess I know how you feel sometimes. The whole thing has taken me by surprise as well. I never felt like anyone would want me.’

Her chest ached as she typed the final sentence; overwhelmed by emotion. It was true that the compliments and flirty glances she often received were met with an automatic but fleeting sense of glee. It felt novel, after so long of feeling like she didn’t deserve it. It sometimes still felt that way; back in the hotel room, after the cheers of the crowd had faded. She had brought the subject up with her company counsellor who had laughed it off, explaining that everyone suffered with imposter syndrome from time to time; she wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. On the matter of flirting, she had kept that one to herself. It felt too personal and she was sure it would come across as vain. Occasionally it was unwarranted; the older mens’ eyes moving down her legs when she took to the stage in a short skirt back in Seoul, or the way she jumped in alarm when someone once slipped their hand down the back of her jeans while she stood tightly packed in an elevator in Osaka. But other times she found her heart racing and stomach churning; not thinking of Jimin until she tucked herself in bed at night. A pretty, tall waitress brushing her hand as she handed over the bill in a Thai restaurant, or the hotel doorman who had helped her move her luggage earlier in the week and smiled kindly at her in the lobby. She knew Jimin, of all people, would understand. She had seen the way he played the audience, like he had a secret to share with them all. Early in their relationship it had made her crazy; the way he seemed to flirt with anyone he came into contact with, often without even realising. But now the tables had turned. He would understand; but she wasn’t sure he would accept it. 

She glanced a warily at the shadowy corner of the room where an oversized bouquet of red roses sat on the dresser. They had arrived earlier to the hotel room, along with a postcard sized letter from her manager. He had been unable to make the trip to Taiwan but was waiting for her in Tokyo; the contract was ready, whenever she was ready to sign. The flowers seemed like a bribe; the gesture leaving a sour taste in her mouth. She wondered if the other two girls had received any, or if the privilege was all hers. 

The sound of her ringtone, a chirpy, summer tune, alerted her to the fact that an hour had already passed and it was getting late. She quickly swiped the screen and raised it to her ear, not wanting to wake up the neighbours.

“Hello?”

There was a pause before Jimin spoke. “How are you?” 

“Good.” She squinted at her watch with a frown. “What time is it there?”

“2am.”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” She asked, a little baffled. He hadn’t called her this late in a while.

“I only just got in. There was a company dinner.” He explained. “What are you up to?”

She hesitated. “Just thinking.”

He laughed, softly mocking her. “Just thinking?”

She shook her head, dismissing it. “Oh, it’s nothing…I was drying my hair.” She lied, fingering the ends of the bone-dry locks in an automatic response. “Da-eun dyed the tips purple for the photoshoot.”

“I liked the pink.” He groaned, a little sulkily.

“They thought purple would fit better with the concept photos.” She mumbled deflatedly. “It’s not really my choice.”

“You could change it when you come home.” He said hopefully. She heard the flirtatious grin in his voice and could picture his smile on the other end. “They can’t do anything about it once your contract has ended.” 

“Maybe.” 

She sounded distant and he noticed the change at once.

“Are you okay?” 

She closed her eyes tightly, temporarily blocking out the glare from the laptop screen. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

“Did you take a look at the brochures I emailed you?”

“I haven’t had time. I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.” She knew she sounded a little irritated but was unable to mask it. The weight of the day suddenly seemed to dawn on her and she wanted nothing more than to go to bed. The last thing she wanted to talk about was moving house. 

“I’d really like you to help.” He argued lightly. “There’s a three bedroom going for sale on the Han River. Yoongi says it’s a good deal.”

Ara sighed. “I’m sure he’s right.”

A pause. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I wish you’d stop asking.” She pleaded, feeling on the verge of tears. Jimin seemed to hear the tremor in her voice and thought for a long moment before he spoke, tentatively.

“Maybe you should ask the doctor to change your medication again.”

Ara clutched the phone tightly. “It’s fine.” She tried to smile, hoping it would show in her voice. “I’m feeling much better, just tired.”

“Is that a side effect?” 

He sounded concerned and she nodded to herself, though she knew full well she hadn’t taken the time to read the little leaflet properly. “Probably. Maybe I just need some sleep.”

“Okay.” He agreed, though she sensed his trepidation. “I’d better go then.”

He sounded disappointed and Ara felt guilty once more. “I’m sorry Jimin.” She apologised softly. “It really was nice that you called. It’s just these time zones…”

“I understand.” 

She wondered if he did. Her eyes felt damp beneath her heavy, false eyelashes, making them itch. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

***

She had forgotten her contact lenses and had to rummage through her Birkin to retrieve her reading glasses. They felt strange on her nose and she wondered how she had ever made it through high school wearing them. At least she had been given a moment’s peace to read through the contract. The office overlooked Ueno Station and the rush of traffic below would be too distracting had someone also been watching her. 

‘As a permanent member of the label you should not bring the company into disrepute…’

She read carefully, though the paperwork seemed much larger than the last one she had signed. Some of the phrases looked familiar, such as the declaration of her dedication to being a ‘brand ambassador’, but others were definitely new. Her gaze hovered over one line:

‘...should not jeopardize future success…not limited to personal relationships, controversial thought or opinion including strong ties to political associations, ideologies or groups.’

She expected no less, particularly after Mimi was caught on camera reading a Betty Friedan book. The first part was more complicated and she wondered if Jimin’s management had asked something similar of him. 

With a sigh, she continued down the page, skimming the text now but picking up on key words which seemed important, ‘Maintain a visible and transparent social media presence….Agree to the screening and management of said accounts with the view of protecting our artists and their wellbeing.’

By the time she reached the end, it did not seem to matter and there was a strange comfort in realising this. The past three years had been carefully planned, organised, operated; her future written for her from the moment she stepped foot on stage for the first time. The moments of quiet between shows, or during her increasingly short stays back in Seoul, only seemed to complicate things further. Her thoughts were a mess whenever she stopped to breathe for a moment, and maybe it was easier to shut them off altogether; to give over all control and decision-making to someone else than to try and deal with them all herself. 

The fountain pen was heavier than she expected as she picked it off the table. It had the company brand embossed on the side in gold-leaf which seemed to reflect the fading light outside as the sun set below the concrete structure of the art museum to the West. Slowly, she signed her name on the final page; the ink blotting a little as she moved aside the bound file and repeated the motion on the second copy. The second attempt was neater as she grew used to the feel of the pen in her hand. There was a knack to it; just like many of the things she had grown to learn in her adult life; underwear should be washed on the delicate cycle, t-shirts should be turned inside out before they are ironed, glasses should not be left in the sink too long, should they smash. She had an assistant to do those things now, and her clothes were mostly dry cleaned these days. 

She neatened the piles of paper and put the lid back on the pen, so the ink wouldn’t dry. The first contract had been signed in black Biro, which hadn’t come with such demands. Reaching down, she picked up her black handbag and carefully folded her personal copy, slipping it between her lipstick and glasses case before adding the pen. She had probably paid for it anyway; in her own way. The green light on her phone was blinking and she slid it from the pouch in the lining. The text had arrived while she was in the meeting, which is why she hadn’t heard her phone go off. Her thumb paused over the messenger button for a moment, before she tapped the screen lightly; Jimin’s name and picture coming into view in the little window above the text. 

‘One more week! :)’

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

& Our full masterlist of fics and original art can be found here

& Our masterlist of preferences/most likely to/quizzes and fun stuff is here

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[aerialflight]

Fic Rec (where i'm into too many fandoms rn and ships which is weird of me)

[Bleach] (been a while amiright?)

Oxytocin by Asuka Kureru (Askerian)

Ship: Grimmjow/Ichigo/Orihime

Complete trust and physical affection are great!

They're a bit less great when they were caused by weird hollow drugs.

They're even less great when the guy who was drugged up into loving the hell out of you is the same guy who tried to murder you a couple times a couple years ago.

(listen i just stumbled upon this and I have no regrets. i don't usually go for ships, let alone poly, but like, GOD, i love how everyone is characterized here, especially orihime and i just want to SCREAM OK? OK. the vibe i get from this fic reminds me of @murderlight (big fan) and if that doesn't say anything, i don't know what will.)

-

[Gintama] (i don't know how i spiralled into this fandom either, been literal years since i've even thought about this fandom, i have no regrets)

Grab Your Dreams With Your Fists While You Can Still Remember It by yatagarasu (leelhiette)

Ship: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki

Toshirou should learn to look both ways before crossing the road.

(Or he learns more about the people around him and about himself.)

(amnesia fic, and i know it's a common trope but they did it BEAUTIFULLY here. love this so much. and it's post-canon.)

I feel you by arashian155 for machinecuisine

Ship: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki

“I’m so done with this,” Gintoki muttered angrily. Zura sighed while Tatsuma laughed loudly. “Your soulmate’s getting roughed up again?” Gintoki groaned. “Worst timing ever! There was this one Amanto swinging his gigantic sword at me and I was just about to dodge it when, out of fucking nowhere, I feel something stabbing my shoulder! It threw me off and if it weren’t for that, I would have been perfectly healthy right now instead of getting nursed for this stupid wound!” he pointed at the ugly slash across his torso. “Fuck soulmates!”

A story about Sakata Gintoki's journey into embracing his soulbond, falling in love, and learning the cons of selflessness.

(THE SLOW BUILD-UP OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND THE PLOT FOLLOWS CANON AND I CAN'T STOP TALKING ABOUT THIS STUPID FIC I'M SO STUPID FOR THIS STUPID SHIP FEIWNFOPA)

-

[One Piece] (of course)

Undone by pkmntrainer_alex

After the entire family almost dies at WCI, Judge Vinsmoke orders the removal of his sons' emotional modifications in a bid to save his own skin in future endeavors. He doesn't stop to consider the ramifications of his 21-year-old sons finally, suddenly, being able to feel their human emotions in full - and their newfound ability to judge both themselves and him by their past actions.

(the vinsmoke family dynamics and the brothers trying to deal with 21 years of pent up emotions? they're trying?? so freaking hard to be functional people and they realize just how freaking amazing sanji is and that HE wasn't the failure in this family??? god, i've reread this fic so many times like an addict please read and suffer the feels with me. this is the one fic where i'm trying to patiently wait for an update. i'm just happy that this exists.)

Song of the Swords by authenticaussie

Wado is tiny when she first appears before him; her tears are as silver as her hair and the moonlight, and they gleam from within with golden fire as they pour down her cheeks.

Zoro’s heart fairly stops in his chest for a very, very long moment.

(personified swords au! introspective and fascinating and a character study of zoro and his relationship with his swords! really liked this!)

where the rims have ridges by Civillain

Everything everyone does is in their own self-interest.

"I like your hat," she calls out quietly.

And the change is instantaneous. He stops where he stands, a hand on his head and his knees still bent to take another step, and turns to look over his shoulder.

There's a moment of silence where he says nothing, just peering at her with squinted eyes, before: "Thanks!" he beams.

His smile is wide and unchecked, so wide that it might make his cheeks ache. He doesn't have laugh lines, but the way he smiles makes her imagine that he's spent his whole life grinning like that, warmly and brightly, so sincere and upfront that the breath gets punched right out her lungs.

Sometimes, there are people close to exceptions. But not quite.

20 years apart, and two people that don't make any sense.

(god, such a good outside pov look on luffy! luffy is such an unreadable character lots of times and it's so hard to pin down his characterization but this fic got it so right! made me fall for luffy all over again and realize just how incredible he is, as both a not-hero figure and main character! definitely recommend!)

those things beyond us by Civillain

There's something different about Luffy on nights like this, nights where there's soft rain and half-moons, and when the streets are quiet; no cars or trucks, only midnight joggers or early risers taking walks to the beach.

(Where Luffy and his friends have a relationship Sabo doesn't think he'll ever be able to understand.)

(honestly, i just love all of this author's one piece works. its a modern au where the straw hats are reincarnated and find each other all in sabo's pov. it's beautiful and this is how i would picture how the straw hats would fit in a modern au. nakamaship is the best ship, no questions needed. so so good!)

Magic Paint by 8ball

Luffy sticks his hands out.

“Paint mine!”

Usopp watches the expressions on Sanji’s face. He likes watching the obvious emotions go through him like a slideshow, and it's somehow comforting that he can see the exact moment Sanji decides that going along with Luffy will be the easiest choice. So Usopp waits for Sanji to test his own nails, deem them dry enough, unscrew the tiny brush top again, and then he asks if Sanji will do his, too. And because Sanji already has the brush ready, and they’re both right there anyways, Usopp knows he’s going to get what he wants.

or the au that came from nowhere where Sanji paints his nails and everyone elses and thats really it

(*screams* the pureness, the fluff, the nakamaship!! fneiwoapfe!! the best, sweetest headcanon ever! had the biggest grin on my face the whole time i was reading this! please please read!!!)

-

[Percy Jackson & the Olympians]

Stealing Shells by the Seashore by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Ship: Sally Jackson/Posiedon

Sally's eyes flicked between Poseidon and then the sea below. He could feel the understanding click.

"Oh, absolutely not-"

"It isn't that high!"

"Poseidon, I am not jumping off of this cliff! I'm not doing it. I won't, you can't make me, it's very high, I am not going to-"

"If my brother sees you here, he's going to assume that you're carrying my child."

"Ridiculous. I have much higher standards."

"I also have higher standards, but he isn't going to listen to us," Poseidon reasoned. The wind blew a bit harder, and Poseidon felt the sea rise with his anxiety. "I would use my powers to hide you, but he'll sense I've used them. You'll be fine," he tried, and Sally gave something of a skeptical laugh.

"Not happening."

The lightning grew closer. For the love of-

"In that case… I'm sorry," he said. Sally tilted her head suspiciously.

"Why are you-" she began but was cut off by Poseidon shoving her off the cliff's edge. He could hear a scream. It started loud and high before getting smaller and smaller. Finally, a splash followed.

Or

Sally and Poseidon spent one summer together… and most of it was them being on the run for a godly crime they didn't commit.

(THIS is the ONLY backstory i will ever accept regarding this ship for the REST OF MY LIFE. i binged this so freaking fast and i am in love with sally as much as posiedon is. percy jackson got his Everything from his mom you can't change my fucking mind. THIS FIC NEEDS MORE ATTENTION AND KUDOS! READ!!!)

Son of Sea Foam by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

“She’ll never claim me,” he whispered. Silena shook her head, eyes wild as she looked around for anyone who could be watching.

“My mother doesn’t remember half of her children as it is,” she said with a note of bitterness. “If you do something to impress her, it won’t matter. Return the bolt in her name. She’ll claim you if you act the part. If you stay unclaimed then they'll figure out what you really are," she said, squeezing his hands tightly. Percy's heart sped up.

"I - I don't know the first thing about Aphrodite-"

"My mother was born of sea foam," Silena cut him off. "And if you're really who I think you are... you are the sea. You can pull this off," she said and touched his cheek. "Get the bolt. Survive," she said. Percy swallowed.

"What if I can't act the part?" He asked. Silena's expression went blank for a moment. Slowly, she slipped off her bracelet and placed it in his hands.

"If you're going to be one of us... you better learn."

Or

AU where Percy has to hide the fact he's a Big Three kid otherwise he'll be killed on the spot. Unfortunately for him, unclaimed kids tend to raise the most suspicion... but he might have found a loophole in the form Aphrodite.

(one of my current obsessions rn. my eyes are constantly glued on the screen because i want to devour more of this galaxy brained fic. this author just keeps on giving and i love them for it. also, SILENA IS AMAZING AND SHE'S GETTING THE ATTENTION SHE DESERVES HELL YEAH!)

-

[Haikyuu!!]

He Waits For a Miracle by ich_bin_ein_stern

Ship: Hinata/Kageyama

A minute ago, he was on the ground after he and the others were tackled by their happily weeping senpai.

They had just beat Shiratorizawa.

And now - "Kageyama-kun? Are you paying attention?" - he's trying not to freak out because he's surrounded by distantly familiar faces while wearing a school uniform he hasn't worn in almost a year.

(TIME TRAVEL TIME TRAVEL TIME TRAVEL *screams*)

-

[The Witcher] (seriously, all my rare fandoms somehow popped up this month)

the way fire holds by theundiagnosable

Ship: Geralt/Yennefer/Jaskier

“There’s a song there, somewhere, don’t you think?” Jaskier says. “‘A witcher, a sorcerer, and a human walk into a bar’…”

(ROLE REVERSAL FIC HECK YES!! Witcher!Yennefer, Mage!Jaskier, Human!Geralt is amazing omg. It all works out so damn well and the relationship between yennefer and jaskier makes me want to cry so much. Geralt is at peak himbo greatness and it's fantastic haha! Their dynamics are just *chefs kiss* so damn good.)

The Shape of You by lirulin

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier

Some people say it's old elven magic, a remnant from before the conjunction of the spheres. Other's will say it's the last fading vestiges of chaos as the modern era slowly drives all magic and wonder out of the world. Those people are, naturally, real killjoys whom Jaskier cannot envision loving anything, but that's fine. To each their own.

Soulmate Spiritual Animal AU

(you have no idea how much i laughed when reading this fic. no idea. jaskier makes me want to scream with how much of a himbo he is and geralt, for once, is not the complete idiot between these two though it's a close call, not gonna lie.)

to grow in adversity by Soulykins

Ship: Geralt/Jaskier, Renfri & Jaskier

“For you!” Julian cried, shoving a fistful of weeds in Renfri’s direction, his smile wide and carefree. Renfri carefully took them in her hands that were only shaking a little bit now, smearing red onto green stems and yellow petals.

Julian clambered into the bed beside her and crawled halfway onto her lap. “I got you flowers, ‘cause you’re so pretty like them!”

“These aren’t flowers, they’re weeds.” Renfri told him, rolling her eyes but allowing the contact with ease. Somedays it seemed like Julian was the only person in the entire castle who wasn’t afraid of her.

“They look like flowers.” He said, crinkling his nose.

“They’re dandelions,” Renfri informed her brother with a tiny smile, “They grow everywhere, even places they perhaps shouldn’t. That’s why they’re a weed.”

“Perhaps they’re a little like you,” She teased, “Growing in even the scariest of places with no fear.” Like a monster’s heart, she doesn’t say.

“Like a superpower!” Julian gasped.

Renfri separated one dandelion from the little clutch and reached out to tuck it behind a little ear. “For the stubborn hero, Jaskier.”

(this is THE fic that got me into the witcher fandom and i can't believe i never reced this before. renfri & jaskier's siblingship is so damn good and just, the amount of effort put into their backstory and relationship makes me want to cry sometimes. and yennefer, ohoho, yennefer is at her Best here, i love her in this fic and her relationship with these siblings! geralt both makes me want to punch him and hug him, which is the norm and totally understandable hahaha! seriously, one of the best witcher fics i've ever read, please please read!)

-

[Boku no Hero Academia]

Where your love has always been enough (for me) by classicequinox

Ship: Todorki Enji/Todorki Rei

It's a dark coil of anger deep in the pit of his stomach, reminding him that he was the root, the catalyst, the trigger for their family's downward spiral. It did happen - he reminds himself harshly. He can't forget that, even if time has actually reset itself.

Todoroki Enji gets a second chance. It's up to him to see what he can do with it.

(genuinely the most believable enji i've seen regarding how he deals with his past actions and trying to be better and rei being a complicated, good person who i can see matches well with enji. really well done characterization and slow building relationship that is believable to me. enji trying to change things in a meaningful, careful manner makes me want to root for him!)

Katsuki Bakugou Makes A Friend (And Also Almost Dies, But Whatever) by Sif (Rosae)

Katsuki Bakugou is eight years old, he has no idea how he got here, where he is, or who this other kid is with him, but that's not gonna stop him from being brave and tough, just like the hero he's gonna be when he's older!

The universe has other ideas, but Katsuki Bakugou is a child made of spite, hubris, determination, and way too much nitroglycerin, so the universe can take it's ideas and shove 'em. After all, nobody out-stubborns Katsuki. Nobody.

(KID BAKUGOU & KID SHIGARAKI FRIENDSHIP! BAKUGOU STOLE MY HEART! SO SMART, SUCH A HERO! I LAUGHED AND CRIED THROUGHOUT THIS FIC, MY HEART CAN'T TAKE THIS! LITTLE SHIGARAKI MAKES A FRIEND AND IT'S TOO CUTE!!! so freaking adorable, oh lord. fneiwofpweafe)

Play The Field by lalazee for Banna_Banana

Ship: Bakugou/Midoriya

Baseball and feelings, feelings and baseball. Turns out, Bakugou and Deku are both good and bad at the same things. They try to work on it.

(look, i don't even know man. i stumbled upon this baseball au fic and the characterization is so top notch!! the backstories and feelings you get from this matches bakugou and deku's canon relationship perfectly and i flew past this so fast, god. please give this a chance, it's fantastic!)

-

[Marvel]

Blips on the Record by ambivalentangst for Bean_reads_fanfic

Flash, let it be known, doesn’t like Peter. He’s too good at everything—infuriatingly so—and nobody ever calls him on his bullshit, like with AcaDec nationals. Flash has to put his all into everything he does for a fraction of the attention Peter gets for his bare minimum, and it pisses him off, to say the least, so sue him for looking for chances here and there to knock him down a peg.

However, when he notices, he shuts his entire operation down.

Maybe Peter has a decade on his age when he was in the thick of it, but Flash remembers what it was like. He gets having school be a safe place, and nobody, not even himself, is going to jeopardize that for Peter.

//

Flash Thompson’s story is not simple, Peter Parker can always use someone else in his corner, and secrets are had and protected by all.

(flash is fleshed out! flash is getting some Good Rep! flash doing his best and being grumpy but ultimately trying to help peter in what ways he could! flash being a complex character and making me love him all over again! flash! getting some actual freaking attention fewnifoapew! THANK YOU! seriously, if you're looking for an actual good flash fic that doesn't feel disingenuous, read this!)

people were mean to you, but I always thought you were cool by suzukiblu for beckyh2112

Fandoms: Avengers & X-men

“What are your feelings on the mutant threat?!” one of the reporters shouts, and Steve just looks at him.

“I think anyone threatening mutants should be stopped,” he says calmly, and the swarm of reporters explodes, a dozen camera flashes going off at once.

(not exaggerating when i say i've reread this fic so many times that it's honestly concerning. steve & cyclop's friendship here makes me so soft?? they're both leaders of their teams and steve not being what everyone expects of him is always a soft spot for me. will forever be addicted to this fic, please enjoy!)

#notmycap by missgoalie75

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

In which Bucky fully embraces the 21st century and is a salty bitch on Twitter.

(nonono, you don't understand. you don't understand how much i howled and screamed in public while reading this, oh my GOD. honestly the funniest shit i've read in a VERY long time, bucky is Perfect here. fucking drag that guy you beautiful cranky soul. X'D)

[jgvfhl]

The Number Lads

Part 1/???? 3K words, no warnings :)

 So I’ve created an audience on Tumblr for the Number Lads, and I’ve happened to got 3K words here for them. So! Here are the origins of the Number Lads! More to follow.... eventually....

For future reference:

Sevenset = ARC-7777 = ARCBoiiiii

Do-si-do = CT-2222 = Double Trouble

Trees = CT-3333 = Green Bean

Loops = CT-8888 = Loopy

Sixes = CC-6666

Double Trouble: i meant it as a joke sevens

ARCBoiiiiii: i didn’t

ARCBoiiiii: what you think you can drop that information on me and i wont use it??? how long have you known me

Double Trouble: okay okay but if you die i’m not mourning you

Loopy: ouch

Green Bean: how do you have this much time to comm us when you’re at ARC training, sevenset

Green Bean: who changed my name

Double Trouble: :3c

ARCBoiiiii: what you don’t like it? thought it suited you, trees

Green Bean: why did i let you guys talk me into this club…

ARCBoiiiii: we’re awfully convincing that way

Double Trouble: you felt compelled

Double Trouble: it’s the numbers gang bond

Green Bean: it was not that

ARCBoiiiii: was it loops space buns

ARCBoiiiii: i bet it was loops space buns

Loopy: what

Double Trouble: they are adorable

Loopy: oh kriff you, don’t you have arc stuff to do, sevenset?

ARCBoiiiii: ehhhhh my next training block doesnt start for another 4min, so....

Double Trouble: well i gotta run, we’re going hyperspace in a min or so--remember the meeting next week!!! be there or be square!

ARCBoiiiii: we dont have any perfect squares yet ;-;

Green Bean: Yeah, yeah, i’ll see you weirdos eventually

Loopy: stay alive out there

Double Trouble: especially the guy who wants to recruit Commander Death over there

ARCBoiiiii: I’ll be fiiinnnne whats the worst that can happen

Green Bean: i mean. his name. is DEATH?

ARCBoiiiii: ..... a fair point.... i guess you’ll just have to wait until the next numbers gang meeting huh :)

Loopy: maker help you

----

Sevenset was uncharacteristically quiet that day during second meal, but only because his mouth was continually occupied with food, not talking. He was on the clock today.

“Hey, Sevenset, are you inhaling those rations, or…?”

He looked over at Buster next to him, quickly swallowing his food. “I just got something I wanna do,” he said, taking a glug of water.

“Something so important you’re taking one of the few unscheduled breaks we have to do it? Okay then.”

Sevenset cleaned the rest of his tray, flashing a grin at Buster as he stood up. “Don’t wanna be late. Got a meeting with death.” He really couldn’t resist the pun. Honestly.

Buster’s eyebrow raised skeptically. His friend next to him, Sketch, asked, “Is this about some new way you’ve managed to piss off the trainers? Because yeah, I’m sure Alpha could arrange a meeting with death for you if you… I dunno, painted pink hearts on his armor.”

“Amazing idea,” Sevenset admitted, his brain automatically figuring out where the pink paint was (he’d have to make it), where Alpha-17’s armor lived (not sure on that one), and how possible it would be to sneak in and out to accomplish the task (a challenge). “However, no, not this time. See you guys later!” He deposited his tray and utensils in the proper area to be cleaned, then jogged out of the mess hall.

Kamino’s winding halls and levels really weren’t efficient--but compared to Coruscant… he couldn’t really argue. A healthy stretch of time in the Guard had given him plenty of tools to make his way around inefficient, crowded, twisty places like this. It didn’t take long before he reached where he was going. Aside from the resident Rancor Battalion, there were often troopers on Kamino from various groups throughout the GAR. They stayed out of the way of those training in separate wings of Tipoca City, and right now, Sevenset was very keen to speak to a visiting commander.

He slipped into a lift with two other troopers--visiting, by the looks of their battered armor. Luckily, they were too engrossed in their own conversation to really notice him, despite his rather colorful tattoos that usually made him stick out. But it was for the best this time. He got off at the level above and started down the hall, reading door labels as he went, searching….

Ah. Here. He pushed a button to open the door, but it was locked. Not entirely surprising, but… now what? If his internal clock was still fairly accurate, he had about ten minutes before he needed to be back for the next training block.

“It’s locked for a reason.”

He whirled, his body almost automatically snapping to attention at the low voice behind him.

Commander Sixes (AKA Commander Death, remember) surveyed him with a disturbing lack of expression. He was tall, for a clone. Probably closer in height to some of the Alphas than to Sevenset. His black armor stuck out like green plants on Coruscant in the brightly lit halls of Tipoca City, making him somehow look even bigger. Even more unnerving, he still had his helmet on, the visor lit with a dull green light, and fixed pointedly on him. Sevenset hated not being able to read people...

Sevenset hadn’t planned for this. Come to think of it, a lot of the “plan” he’d concocted relied on a few assumptions, and all of them seemed to be fading. One of them had been that he would have no problem talking to a CO--he never had before. “Sir, hi--hello--I was uhm…” He managed to clamp down on the first coherent thought to float through his head, so instead of blurting, “You’re a lot taller than I thought you’d be,” he stumbled upon, “It’s a nice room you’ve got. From the outside,” and immediately wanted to bash his head in on the wall.

The commander’s helmet never moved, just kept staring him down. “Get out of my way,” he finally growled, taking a step forward.

Against all better judgement, Sevenset stood his ground, although he squished himself a bit closer against the door. “Yessir, of course, just--one thing, really quick thing, I promise.” When the commander didn’t kill him or rip his arms off or something, he went on, finally finding his words were cooperating with him. “So, you’re CC-6666, naturally. I happen to be CT-7777--Sevenset, I’m Sevenset. There’s a group of us, see, sir--with the repeating numbers, and we have little meetings--”

“No.”

“--is what I thought you’d say, but just--” he paused, fumbling a bit to pull a piece of flimsi out of his pocket. “There’s the frequency, there’s the date of the next meeting,” he said, holding out the flimsi scrap. “I’m sure the other boys would love it if you dropped by.” The end of his final sentence shriveled into an undignified squawk when Commander Sixes reached out, grabbed his collar, and shoved him bodily out of the way of the door.

“Get back to training before I have some of my boys drag you there,” he said, entering the door’s access code.

“I’ve got six minutes--”

The door slid shut in his face. Well. He was still alive. So… that counted as a success. Perhaps not a resounding success, but a success. He stood in stunned silence for a moment, still clutching the scrap of flimsi in his hand, wondering if he should stick it in the door so the commander would find it later. However, he had no trouble believing the commander’s threat that his men literally would drag him back to the ARCs if he told them to, so it was probably best not to linger.

Sevenset jumped to attention for the second time that day when the door slid open again. He just stood there, dumb, as Commander Sixes stepped out, plucked the scrap of flimsi from his fingers, then returned to his room with about as much ceremony as befitted dumping pebbles out of a boot.

Oh, yeah. Definitely a success.

---

The first thing Sixes did once back in the privacy of his albeit temporary rooms was remove the top half of his armor, only leaving the gauntlet with his wrist comm. Turning his attention to said wrist comm, he entered Colt’s number. There was a short wait before the other commander answered it.

“Everything alright over there, Sixes, sir?”

“It’s about one of the ARC candidates.”

There was a pause. Understandable. The ARCs weren’t supposed to be in this wing of Tipoca City. “Which one?” His tone suggested he already had his suspicions.

“Calls himself Sevenset.”

He heard inaudible muttering on the other end. “What’d he do this time?” Sixes had suspected as much.

“Quite a pair he’s got on him, hasn’t he?”

Colt laughed dryly. “Yeah, sure. Hopefully, he’s worth the trouble.”

Sixes looked over the scrap of flimsi in his other hand. “Yeah… I think he might be.”

~+~

Leaning back in his pilot’s chair, Do-si-do watched the little light on the ship’s holoprojector, waiting for the others to join the meeting. He always took the calls in his ship. It was more private than his bunk most of the time, and frankly, the audio quality was so much better than on the hand-held devices.

Trees was the first to join, punctual as usual.

“Hey, Trees,” he smiled.

“Have you heard from Sevenset yet?” he asked.

Do-si-do shook his head, combing strands of his bleached curls out of his face. “Nah. Figure he’s been too busy. Graduation was supposed to be a couple days ago, right?”

“Three, yes.”

Loops’ holographic miniature appeared beside Trees’. He looked exhausted, but awake. His long hair was down from his signature twin buns, and he leaned his chin on his hand, fingers resting just over the infinity symbol tattoo on his cheek.

“Loops,” Trees greeted him.

“Mph.”

“What happened to you?” Do-si-do asked.

“Supply shipment,” Loops sighed. “General Koon’s having skeleton crews tonight so we can get some sleep.” After a stifled yawn, he asked, “Is Sevenset dead yet?”

Do-si-do smiled. “Trees asked the same thing, and I have no idea.”

As if on cue, a third hologram popped up on the ship’s control panel. Sevenset beamed at them, his new ARC pauldrons proudly on display. “Guess who’s not dead, fellas!”

“Hey hey! Look at you, ARC-7777,” Do-si-do grinned, leaning forward in his seat. “How’s it feel?”

“I really love the kama, gotta be honest.” He was only visible from the waist up, but they could see him sway his hips back and forth, clearly enjoying his new gear.

“Show us the paint,” Loops demanded, as firmly has he could demand it in his half-asleep state.

Sevenset obliged, setting down his holoprojector--his personal one, now he had graduated--and stepping back so more of his body was visible. The paint job was fairly similar to his previous armor--the sharp edges, the circle on his right shoulder bell holding four stylized sevens--but the new armor on his chest and arms had forced some alterations. They could see just about all of the kama now, the bright red sevens standing out against the dark grey fabric. Predictable, maybe, but still eye-catching. That was Sevenset’s main goal, if it weren’t already clear from the tapestry of tattoos on his bald head that ran down his neck under his blacks, and the several glinting piercings in his ears and nose.

“It’s definitely you.” Trees, bluntly.

“They let you keep the red paint, huh?” Do-si-do said. Sevenset had previously been assigned to the Coruscant Guard. After proving a bit more trouble than the Guard could take, and catching some CO’s eye, he’d been shipped back to Kamino a couple months ago to join Rancor.

“Hey, if Commander Colt can have it, I guess I can too. No one stopped me.”

Without warning, a fourth hologram appeared beside the others in front of Do-si-do’s eyes. A trooper--a big trooper, even in miniature--and in dark armor, helmet included. His brows scrunched together as he studied the person, failing to recognize them.

Sevenset did. “Commander!”

“I see Colt decided against tossing you overboard.”

Oh, no karking way. “Commander Sixes?” Do-si-do blurted.

At the same time, Loops made some unintelligible noise and suddenly disconnected, and Trees froze like a lizard when a hawk flies overhead, his eyes gone wide, one arm half-way to a salute. Frankly, Do-si-do could understand their reactions. Commander Sixes--like many of the CCs--was legendary. His wing of Star Fighters had fought through some of the toughest space battles so far, and always came out of it. As a pilot himself, Do-si-do had heard story after story about their skills. The fighter wing and the commander now wore the nickname Death, thanks to their brutal but effective tactics.

There was a brief and painfully quiet pause before the commander said, “Pride of the GAR, this lot.”

“Eh, they’ll get over it,” Sevenset shrugged, his hologram appearing to zoom in as he came closer again. “Right, Trees?” he added with a grin. Their friend was still in shock, it looked like. “Might have to tell him to relax, sir.”

The commander’s helmet turned towards Trees. “At ease. Take a breath before you pass out.”

Trees blinked, lowering his arm. “Yessir,” he said quietly, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

“I’ll try to get Loops back,” Sevenset said, a datapad appearing in his hands. Damn, ARCs really did get all the good stuff. Do-si-do still had to share a datapad with his squad of pilots.

“Shouldn’t there be more?” Commander Sixes asked.

“Of us? Yeah,” Do-si-do answered. “I guess there should be nine of us, in theory.”

“Nine or ten,” Trees said, his tone still a bit clipped.

“Ten or eleven, actually,” Sevenset corrected, still looking at his datapad. “We don’t know if a CT designation can be all zeroes. Might have been taken out of the system, who knows.”

“It’s hard when we don’t have access to the full GAR database,” Do-si-do went on. “We have to rely on hearsay and brothers from other battalions. Sevenset and I met by chance on Coruscant.” Loops’ hologram reappeared. He looked a bit more awake now, still visibly on edge from the commander’s arrival, and with a glower on his face. “Loopy! Welcome back.”

“I hate you.”

“Whoa, hey, I didn’t know he was coming either,” he defended himself. “Blame Sevenset.”

“I’m blaming both of you,” Loops said. “You told Sevenset about him, and Sevenset was stupid enough to go through with it.”

Sevenset, his attention off his datapad and back on the meeting, put a hand over his heart. “Stupid enough?” he repeated, doing his best to sound utterly wounded. “I think you mean ballsy enough.”

“He meant stupid enough,” the commander replied immediately and without emotion. “And I agree.”

Do-si-do snorted a laugh at the look of utter indignation on Sevenset’s face. Even Trees relaxed a bit more. “Okay, I can get used to having a CC around,” he grinned.

“Finally, someone with the authority to tell him off,” Loops said, expressing Do-si-do’s feelings exactly.

The recipient of their mocking pouted at them, folding his arms as best he could with his new armor. “Now I just feel unloved.”

“Why do I get the feeling Commander Fox was only too happy to get you qualified for ARC training?” the commander asked, his tone remaining impassive.

“For your information,” Sevenset said, then stopped, realizing, as they all had, that the commander had known where Sevenset had previously served. No one had told him this information. “How did you know I was in the Guard?”

They all turned to the commander. “I’m a commander. I can look anyone up. I looked you all up.”

Do-si-do leaned even farther forward in his seat, a huge smile on his face. “You have access to the full database?”

“You can find the others!” Sevenset completed, a similar smile on his face as well.

There was a pause. Do-si-do was starting to think Commander Sixes just liked the drama they created. In fact, judging by how he had yet to show his face and was wearing all black armor, it seemed Commander Death was fond of the dramatic in a few ways. “In theory, sure.”

“Yes! Oh, fantastic,” Sevenset went on, rubbing his hands together. “You can tell us where they’re stationed--”

“If they’re still alive,” Trees added in. He had a point.

“--and then we can find them!”

The commander’s helmet tilted, his expression hidden. “I’m guessing Fox declined membership,” he said.

Do-si-do snorted a gain, and Trees and Loops both smiled. They all remembered Sevenset’s story of trying to recruit Commander Fox to be number ten for their little group.

“If by ‘declined membership’ you mean, ‘shipped me out to Kamino for someone else to deal with,’ then yes,” Sevenset answered. “He declined.”

“Maybe you can ask him,” Loops said.

“Hey, yeah--”

“No.” The commander’s tone didn’t leave much room for argument, but that had never stopped Sevenset a day in his life, and Do-si-do was more than content to sit back and enjoy the show.

“But you’re his big brother, right? You can drag him into things--”

“I’m not a damn recruiter, ARC, now stand down.”

The effect was instantaneous. They all recognized a CO’s “talk back and you’ll be cleaning ‘freshers for the next month” voice. Combined with Commander Sixes’ already awe-inspiring reputation, his order shut them all up. Trees once again straightened to attention, and this time they all joined him, even Sevenset.

“Understood, sir,” he replied. Do-si-do could see the new training in him now. Sevenset wouldn’t be an ARC if he didn’t know when to drop the comic act, but the speed and discipline with which he’d done so just now was different.

The commander waited a second or two, then he nodded once. “At ease.”

They relaxed, mostly. It was hard to ignore the mood shift that had taken place. As cool as it was having a commander in the club… there were some obvious issues that needed addressing if this was going to remain a “just for fun” place.

Do-si-do found himself as the one breaking the uneasy silence. “But… you can help us find where the others are stationed, right, sir?”

The commander’s helmet dipped. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Can you do that… now?” Sevenset ventured.

The commander’s helmet tilted to one side, and it looked like he sighed. “Fine.” The others perked up. “But, I can only find their assignments, not their current locations.”

“We can work with that,” Do-si-do agreed, and the others nodded along. “Who’s writing this down?”

“I can!” Sevenset volunteered.

Trees reminded him, “Your handwriting is entirely illegible. Even to you.”

“Yes, but now I have a datapad. I can type all my notes.”

“I’m just going to start talking if you boys don’t figure it out,” the commander warned.

“Okay, okay, fine, Trees can copy it.”

Trees’ organization skills would always beat out Sevenset’s anyway. Maybe ARC training had fixed that, though. Trees shifted around, grabbing what he needed, then looked up and nodded when he was ready.

The commander’s helmet tipped down to look at something--presumably a datapad--as he spoke. “CT-4444 is with the Marines under Bacara. Probably has limited contact availability depending on the mission. Infrequent leave.” Do-si-do’s eyebrows raised, and he glanced at Sevenset and Loops. They hadn’t been expecting a tactical rundown of each person. But… they wouldn’t complain. “CT-27-5555 is the only ‘fives’ trooper in the GAR. He’s one of Rex’s freaks, so good luck getting your hands on him.”

“That’s the five-oh-first, right?” Loops asked. “Torrent, or something?”

“Yeah. Rex’s freaks. I’m sure he’ll fit right in.” Do-si-do smirked. He probably would. “And CT-9999 is with Ghost Company in the two-twelfth. Pretty decent chance he and number five have run missions together. Or will in the future, anyway.”

“Is there a CT-0000?” Loops wanted to know.

“What about eleven-eleven?” Sevenset added.

The commander glanced up at them, then back to his materials. “Yeah, the one-eighteenth has a CT-0000. Didn’t find an eleven-eleven, though.”

Do-si-do frowned. “Not even a casualty report?”

“No.”

“But… he could still be on Kamino, right?” Trees said. “Cadets don’t show up in the main database until they graduate and deploy.”

The commander nodded. “He could be a cadet.”

“I could look,” Sevenset offered. “I mean. I live here now, so I should be able to find out if a CT-1111 exists. It’ll just take a bit longer.”

“Yeah, we’ll figure it out,” Do-si-do nodded. “In the meantime,” he continued, leaning forward, “who’re we going after first?”

Ta-daaa!! @blsmjoon @nintendolover13-ts4 (I couldn’t tag your side blog sorry) @alamogirl80 (idk why I can’t tag you either ;-;) @23-bears @theultimatesandwich

[bisluthq]

Could you explain to me why Dress has gay connotations? I just don’t see it, and it’s been years now.

Yes I can, because that was the song that lead me down this path of sin and insanity. The year was 2017. With more marbles and brain cells and far less COVID, I sat down to listen to the album Reputation. Perhaps I poured a glass of wine first. I don’t recall. I was but a more or less normal, very casual fan who had for many years enjoyed mocking Taylor for her messy ass personal life, supposed hyperconfessionalism and regular PR kerfuffles. One of my best friends and then roommate used to, as I’ve told y’all before, blast Blank Space as a chaos anthem every time we went out. Fundamentally, though I was too cool for Taylor Swift. I was listening for like... general pop culture knowledge because my brain is a treasure trove of entertainment tidbits and gossip. I got through almost the whole album and then I heard the song Dress and I said, “what the fuck did I just listen to?” And I replayed it and I went, “Damn Blank Space. That was gay.”

And that was the fateful day I came to believe in 2+ muses, Gaylor and, I guess, Kaylor as well because my (albeit surface level but even if I’d dug) Googling brought me mostly to supermodel Karlie Kloss’s door.

So why is this song so gay? I’m not even gonna give y’all the Kaylor reading today we’re literally gonna time capsule to 2017 before I knew any of this shit and when the only thing I knew was THIS SONG WAS GAY.

Our secret moments

In a crowded room

They got no idea

About me and you

Okay so they’re out and about. What secret moments? Like looks and stuff? I mean bold of her to assume nobody knows it’s pretty easy to convince people hets are fucking especially if they’re giving each other meaningful looks and shit. Idk like people whisper and gossip about hets just looking at one another all the time. This seems like she’s a bit overconfident in their sneakiness.

There is an indentation

In the shape of you

Made your mark on me

A golden tattoo

Right so whatever is happening between the speaker and the subject of the song has had an impact on her. This isn’t a thirst anthem. Like the secret moments aren’t because they’re just... looking at one another respectfully and kinda doing that “your place or mine” telepathic conversation. No, Tay’s body has a mark, an indentation from the shape of her lover’s body and the whole thing is a golden tattoo - temporary and removable, presumably, shiny and glittery, but visible to the naked eye. So shit’s already gone down. Friends with benefits maybe?

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah)

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from all this (ha, ha, ha, ha)

Nah, not simply friends with benefits. This is forbidden, right? Taylor can’t touch her lover. All they have are these secret stolen looks in the crowded room that absolutely nobody can tell mean anything. That... sounds like “gal pals” to lil gay me. Like she can’t touch her lover because it’ll be too obvious but as long as they don’t touch it won’t seem sexual at all. It’s not just that they’re friends and nobody knows there’s more going on, because why can’t they be friendly then? Why are they sharing secret moments but they can’t come close to the point where her hands are literally shaking from staying away? Why can’t she do that good old link arms with her good guy friend especially if they’re out and tipsy? And then it ends off with orgasm noises because... it’s this song so of course it does.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off (ha, ha, ha)

More nails in the coffin of “friends with benefits” and people just don’t know. This person saying her name makes her world stop. This ties into the forbidden vibe but it’s also so innocuous that it does fuck with the “we’re just friends with benefits but I want more” interpretation that a hetsplanation would require. Like this is clearly a lot more. It’s already a lot more. It’s not that she just wants more, this girlie is gone.

And then we get to my gayest line: “I don’t want you like a best friend.” Now I get saying you don’t want to be “just friends” with a guy. I also do get being best friends with a guy. One of my irl besties is Blank Space Chaos Anthem girlie and the other is a (mostly) straight dude. I also have other straight dude friends like my mate who I was trying to rescue from accidentally having to marry a converting girl a few years back. I’m like a (woke) straight dude whisperer tbh because being friends with me is a big win for their woke credibility and let’s be real I’m 1) irreverent and great fun and 2) give great advice on girls.

Now I can guarantee you my proposition to fucking any of my dude friends from besties to casuals would not be “I don’t want you like a best friend.” They’d be like, “my bitch wut? Are you with Pothead YouTube Ex again? Tell her BE GONE WITCH!” And sure, maybe that’s just me. But if was already fucking a dude I can guarantee you the words “I don’t want you like a best friend” would not exit my mouth. It’s not “I don’t want to be friends” or “I don’t only want to be friends” she says “I don’t want you like a best friend.” The implication is there’s an appropriate way to “want” a friend and the way she wants the person she’s speaking to is not like that. It’s a similie, she’s comparing the subject of the song to a best friend and saying this is not like that. Now, explain to me why that level of clarification is important in a fwb setup? You’re trying to make it more serious, I get it. You don’t want to be “just” friends with benefits (and we know they’re already fucking) I get that too. But why the similie?

Why would a dude you’re fucking ever misunderstand and think you want him like a best friend?

Carve your name into my bedpost

Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off (ha, ha, ha)

I mean again, if we needed clarity on why this is a sex anthem it’s the first line of this song. And she’s saying “have sex with me because I don’t want you like a best friend” again, they’ve already fucked that was established in the first verse. Why would this be stuff you clarify with a dude? Why would a man who is fucking you get the wrong impression and assume you want to be best friends? Not friends. Best friends. Why would he think that?

And then we get the dress line. Now, I know some people are like “I dress up for my boyfriend!” and sure. But let’s all be honest. 85%+ of the time girls of any sexual orientation wear outfits out - and we established this is an out type situation - it’s for other girls to notice their fashion. Come on, you’re not expecting your dude friend to be like, “nice dress, where’d you buy it?” “Oh, this? Hahaha it’s just Zara, they were having a sale. If you hurry you might get one too!” Like there’s something inherently sapphic/feminine about discussions of buying clothing. And come on, fellow queer ladies, clothes is a great way to get a chat going.

In this song, Taylor draws attention to this feminine article of clothing she bought to wear on the night in question and instead of saying “it’s Zara” she goes “I only bought it so you could take it off” - I’m doing an eyebrow wiggle but you can’t see because I’m just text on your screen. Why would you say that to a guy? Like if you did, if you’re that girl why are you holding back from him? Y’all are fucking and you have a massive thing for him. Surely he should know by now? Why is this dress even featuring in the conversation? Like I say bringing up a dress you bought in a conversation about sex feels pretty fucking gay. It’s either a really bizarre and kinda desperate flex which doesn’t really match the sexiness of the song or... it’s gay.

Inescapable

I'm not even going to try

Girl you’ve fucked why is there a point of trying at this stage? Unless you... can’t do this or it feels in some way wrong?

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified

Why the I/we split? Like why is only one of them burned if they were electrified? Sure maybe it’s a fwb thing and he can turn her down for more than sex and friendship but it sounds more like - given the best friends - this is her female friend and she’s maybe uncertain of the other woman’s feelings. This feels - and again we’re not doing a Tay’s personal life reading here - like one of them can be fully destroyed by this but despite that reality they are both lit up and hurt in the process.

I'm spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we're both drunk

I mean this isn’t inherently gay it’s just sexy, get it Tay. This sounds hot.

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

What do they know about you? Like again we’re not doing the Tay reading thing but like what’s the sekrit? She’s fucking her friend? Why don’t they know anything about this? Surely they can imagine it’s a possibility? Like however unlikely, why does nobody know anything about this?

The next chorus is the same as the one above and I still have no hetsplanation for it. Like especially in the broader context of this, again, very gay song.

Then we get a very straight bridge. It’s like it’s from a different song or was written much later:

Flashback when you met me

Your buzz cut and my hair bleached

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me

Flashback to my mistakes

My rebounds, my earthquakes

Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me

And I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My one and only, my lifeline

I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My hands shake, I can't explain this

Aha, ha, ha, ha

Okay but this is a completely different vibe to the... entire song. The rest of the song was about the other person not being sure and that being the issue. “I don’t want you like a best friend.” So why: “I woke up just in time”? Like “if I get burned at least we were electrified” but then... “I woke up just in time” - is the rest of the song like a weird nightmare? That’s not, to me, enough of an explanation. She spends the whole song in sexy anxiety pining after someone who cares about where and why she bought her dress and then she’s like “you’re everything to me” - it doesn’t make sense.

The rest of the song is the chorus again. As I’ve said, I don’t see a hetsplanation for it.

This is a gay song. The bridge isn’t and the line about the bathtub isn’t inherently. But the rest of this song is gay af.