#also what the fuck does transcend your thighs even mean

[mashupofmylife]

if anyone was wondering how much of a clusterfuck this whole medical evaluation process is, I was sent to a fucking weight loss clinic this week to have my medical exam. For my fitness for duty evaluation. Because of my restrictive eating disorder.

[walhalla]

someone asked who in tr is submissive and breedable and I lost the ask cause I'm an idiot so I'm sorry anon, here you go 😔

takemichi. he gets flustered really easily. put a hand on his thigh and he's already stuttering. edge him. finger his ass. really. he'll melt in your hands in a matter of seconds. will get embarrassed if he cums from that no matter how many times you've done this in the past.

sanzu. okay hear me out. sanzu is a switch. but he's a damn freak. pain whore. tie him, whip him, peg him, pull. his. hair. will grin and drool like a maniac the whole time. just mind what you get in his head, cause he'll probably wanna try it on you.

yuzuha. tries to take initiative but fails horribly. not that you're complaining. soft, soft, soft. praise her, kiss her all over. she gets really emotional. looks up at you with a doe face. will beg even if not asked to.

mikey. look, he could top but he's just that lazy. always says he's not a sub but order him to say "i'm y/n's little whore" and he'll chant that like a damn mantra. ride him. he shakes so much when cumming.

hakkai. big baby. also gets ultra flustered. praise him. suck on his nipples. his thighs are super sensitive. suck him off while caressing his thighs and he's gone. if you get mitsuya to have a threesome with you hakkai will transcend reality. get his back on mitsuya's chest and ride him while taka-chan whispers filth in his ear.

souya. not too subby but loves praise. also gets emotional. apologizes for looking so angry during sex. tell him you love him just the way he is, angry face and all and he will cover his face with his arm and hide the little tear he just shed. buy him lingerie, he loves that shit. nahoya knows this and teases him about it but we all know he's not serious. he even got angry a set of lingerie for their birthday. souya almost died of embarrasment that day.

shion. yup, ninth gen black dragon captain, the great madarame shion. break his ego. acts like a fucking asshole all the time. brags with his friends about the wild sex you have but always fails to mention it's you who's fucking his ass. be rough with him, he'll ask if you're just that weak. be rougher. sometimes lets out high pitched moans and it's kinda cute ngl. threatens to kill you if you tell anyone about your sex life. you don't know if he's serious anymore. I mean, he ridicules himself on a daily basis, he's immune to public embarrassment, right?

kisaki. look, I don't normally write for him but I can't ignore the audacity this man has when saying he's a dom. he's even convinced himself he is one, but all you'll get from that is vanilla sex in a deafening silence. you're really lucky if you cum in one of those sessions. if you manage to get him out of his lie, have fun. humiliate him. call him names. be mean, really mean. wants you to step on his balls but he'll never tell you. if you somehow end up doing it, he'll cum in a millisecond. make fun of him. steal his wallet, he finds it hot. make him spend a day with $10 and watch as he fails horribly. he knows that night you'll be meaner so he spends the whole day hard.

[twopoppies]

hi!! i looked in your fic rec MP and i didn't see it, so i thought I'd ask. i read In Vogue recently and LOVED it and then I've been binging project runway episodes (bc why not) and now I'm craving good fashion fics. maybe even a project runway one. have you read any good ones? and could you maybe rec some?

Hi sweetheart. Ohhh, I love that fic. And yes, I’ve got a few that have to do with fashion.

In Vogue by otpwhatever / @thecelineharry (M, 121K) This one is just….so much. The intensity of the characters, the crazy hot smut (oh god, the window scene), the FASHION, the angst (I had to take a walk around the block after reading it), the epic love story between two men who could rule the world if they could just figure their shit out. The fic has been deleted, but the link is to a download.

These Constant Stars by stylinsoncity (M, 31K) This author has written so many great fics and this one is really lovely. I also always like when one of the boys is not what he seems to be on first glance. There’s also a second part, told from Harry’s POV.

Three French Hems by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews (M, 20K) the characterizations and set up for this fic are sharp and funny, making this a really fun read. Plus there’s a lot of talk of Louis worshipping Harry’s thighs. LOL!

Fading by tothemoonmydear (M, 202K) Let me start by asking you to please read the tags on this one. It’s a very well-written fic, but it deals very graphically with Louis’ character’s eating disorder. At the time it was written some people felt it did not portray ED recovery accurately, so if the subject is at all triggering for you, please don’t read this one. Of that’s not an issue for you, make sure you have tissues ready because I ugly cried through almost all of this. I read it years ago and loved it at the time, but it’s not one I could handle reading twice.

sweet, where you lay by @infinitelymint (E, 27K) I read this ages ago and my notes only say that it was “sweet and sexy”, which is not terribly helpful. But this author is a good one, in general, so I feel safe including it here.

The rest of these were suggested by @cuethetommo who generally likes the same sort of fics I do. I either haven’t read these, or don’t remember enough about them to have an opinion! 😆 But I trust her.

Put It All On Me by LoadedGunn (M, 15K)

"Yeah, yeah, give it to me, that's it, spread your legs a bit, there you go."

The camera follows Louis as he does. Maybe if the modelling thing doesn't work out, he could try the porn industry. Then again, he's a bit too stocky to be twinky and a bit too twinky to be anything else. He likes that about himself, though. Well, directors and photographers like that about him. He could pull off pretty and edgy, could do GQ in the morning and a perfume commercial in the afternoon. Right now he thinks he could pull off anything, because it's Harry fucking Styles directing him.

Or, a Top Model AU where Louis is accidentally there to make friends, not become Britain's Next Top Model. (Also Zayn is the supermodel host.)

you pull me in by yoursongonmyheart (NR, 7K)

“Did you really wear silk jammies to meet him?” Fizzy is almost in tears.

He’s going to kill them.

He’s really going to kill them.

Ernie throws his backpack on the floor before telling Fizzy, quite loudly, “Mr. Styles looked at Achoo like this” and making an exaggerated jaw dropped face.

“That is not what happened!” Louis protests.

“And Achoo looked at Mr. Styles like that, too!” Doris pulls the same face before laughing.

------

//or the one where Louis is a model, Harry teaches Doris and Ernie at primary and now might be a good time to fall in love.

This Road Leads Where Your Heart Is by LittleLostPieces (E, 15K)

Alright, so Louis has a bit of a type is the thing. And as fit as his supermodel flatmate (Harry) may be, he isn't what Louis is looking for in a potential partner. That’s all. He’s not Louis’ type, with his miles of lanky limbs and his bright, boyish eyes. His impossibly tight, little body and infectious laughter are not what Louis wants. They're not. Really.

swimming in a champagne sea by delsicle (E, 17K)

Louis is a supermodel. Harry is a celebrity photographer known for capturing the brightest up and comers in their most candid moments. They meet at London’s most exclusive New Year’s Eve party.

An alpha/alpha fic filled with confusion, banter, Ubers, and glitter

Life at Shutter Speed by zarah5 (E, 20K)

AU. Having landed a job modelling for an outdoor clothing catalogue, Harry certainly wouldn’t mind doing some extracurricular work for photographer Louis Tomlinson. Say, a private photo session? Yes, please? Good thing that Harry has ten days and three beautiful locations -- Morocco, Indonesia and the Swiss Alps -- to make Louis see just how good they could be.

Special Topping by LoadedGunn (E, 20K)

'Who would even want so many pizzas so late at night?' Harry wonders before the door opens.

Oh. Apparently short guys with shaggy brown hair and a scruff and bright blue eyes and heart-stopping smiles. That's who.

Harry's not even ashamed of how he nearly drops all the pizzas. This guy is gorgeous and Harry hasn't noticed anyone like that in ages, let alone provided services to them. If he opened his mouth right now the only thing that would come out is, "By special topping did you mean my dick?"

Or, the AU where Harry delivers pizza and Louis really just wants Tim Gunn to spank him.

everywhere (i want to be with you) by itiswhatisbutterfly (E, 42K)

Harry and Louis meet because they have terrible friends, they fall in love because something feels right in a world of uncertainty and shifting grounds. Louis is an actor and Harry is a model at the top of his game, the best things in life are the most unexpected ones and the things that hit you when you are least expecting it.

Featuring winter in London, nights in Paris, early mornings in New York, burning heat in Monte Carlo and an enduring love spent transcending four corners of the globe.

Young Gods by sincewewereeighteen (E, 77K)

“Why don’t you stay?” Harry looked down at him and snorted. “What?”

“You’re not my type, Louis”, the boy rolled his eyes sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his boots.

“Says the man you just had sex with”, Louis pointed feeling smart, but Harry was one step ahead of him, with the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“You see, if you were my type, I wouldn’t have”, Harry winked, cheeky as hell. “I would’ve gotten to know you first.”

“Bullshit”, he accused the boy not letting it show how intrigued he was. “How can you know I’m not your type if you don’t know me?”

“How about I list five things about you to prove I’m right and if any of them are false I’ll lie down again.”

“Ok. Go.”

[Or: the one in which Louis is a model and Harry's supposed to be a normal guy... Until he isn't.]

[gophergal]

Sup peeps, you know what time it is.

Genderbent Slasher Headcanons part 2: electric boogaloo

Billie Loomis

Ok, so... This bitch... Is a bitch. In like, a charming way though. She's basically a Heather, but not overly popular. She's a respectable 5'6" with a intimidating aura and a bad case of Resting Bitch Face. In all reality, she's just exhausted. It's hard work commiting heinous crimes, okay?

Just like her male counterpart, she's the brains of the operation. She had the grand idea of the Ghostface killer remaining "male" once she heard the news describe "him" as such. So, aside from their first kill, she makes it a rule that she and Stella have to bind their chests. It helps to distance them from the crimes.

Her strong points, aside from intelligence and planning, is agility and endurance. She took ballet classes and gymnastics, so she's very flexible and disciplined. So, even though she usually focuses on setting the scene and the other more hands off aspects of the kills, she's most likely to outlast a victim of she has to fight them.

Oh dear, sweet S/O, you have found a charming love, but my god is she scary. Don't get me wrong, she treats you well. She's thoughtful and respectful of your boundaries, but very possessive. If someone else shows you any romantic interest, they will first be warned by her. She's fond of PDA in these situations, or she likes to give you hickies. Either way, if they persist, they'll die brutally and, if you know about her status as one half of the Ghostface killer, you won't likely be able to convince her to do anything else.

Stella Macher

She's just a big cutie. And by big I mean she's 6'0" and STRONK. She's noticably muscular in places, specifically she has nice biceps and thighs.

Very smiley and bubbly. A bit of a tomboy, but also very kind hearted. (What I'm saying is she's just as much of a himbo as Stu is, fight me. It's intrinsic to the character.) Her hugs are too tight, but she apologises the moment she's reminded of it. Loves animals, even "gross" ones and refuses to hurt them.

Very athletic. Track, basketball, and cheerleading were her bread and butter throughout most of her school career. Dropped them in senior year though. She's obviously the brawn of Ghostface. She's not too fond of binding her chest and complains about difficulty of movement and breathing, but she sucks it up.

A perfect pick for a girlfriend. Loves movie dates and showing her S/O tons of affection. If she's hurt or jealous she'll show it. She's less likely to be mad or kill someone, but Billie would if Stella was sad enough. Unfortunately, the victim might be YOU, if you aren't caring enough to Stella.

Belle Sinclair

Love it or hate it, she's a 5'8" milf. This is both in attitude and appearance. She just has that strong and confident vibe. Now, she's not a mom, nor does she EVER plan to be (doesn't want to put a kid through that), but she's more like a strict mom.

Oh, what rhymes with mom? That's right! DOMME. That's a trait that transcends gender! Don't expect her to be kind or sweet to anyone, she's still a sadistic fuck.

Okay, keeping in theme with this, she actually does take on a very motherly role with her sisters. She knows what not to do and that's a start. She's protective of both of them, especially of Virginia.

Her S/O is in for a.... Fun time. Thing is, she uses her "Southern Charm" persona more frequently than her male counterpart. She's got more control over it too, so don't expect it to be easy to make her break character. All of this is to say that when she does show her true colors, it's more intense. She has a special love of degrading her partner when she's like this. She wants you to hurt physically and emotionally, and she's likely to cross some boundaries trying to. When all is said and done, she'll try to show you love and affection, but she doesn't know how. She won't be vulnerable with you, not for a long time, but will feign vulnerability early on to gain your trust and see if you're trustworthy in return.

Virginia Sinclair

Baby. That's the long and short of it. She's sensitive and shy, but a little more cold too. She's hurt by what Belle says to her, and it shows, but she builds up her walls quickly and gets back to work.

Same body type as her twin, but somehow gives off a different vibe. It's probably due to her fashion preferences. She likes to wear comfy sweaters and overall dresses. Knee socks, too. A very chill librarian vibe.

Her favorite part of art is in the small details. She loves adding the smallest things to the wax sculptures that just give them some character. Some have freckles or tan lines. Sometimes, she adds details like embroidery to the clothing by hand. Another thing she likes is the subtle curvature of the human body. She is sure to accentuate the understated shapes that the average person wouldn't pick up on.

Very hard to court. If you want to become her S/O, you have to be very patient. It's not that she's oblivious, it's that she's guarded. She notices how you flirt with her, how you make excuses to touch her and the compliments you give her, but she doesn't trust it for one minute. She thinks you're going to use her to either leave Ambrose or hurt her sisters, and she can't have that. Eventually, once you gain her trust, she starts to see your advances as genuine, and that's when her self doubt rolls in. No matter the gender, the artistic Sinclair will not make the first move. You'll have to show her that you're serious, but once you do that she become bold in her attempts to impress you. Romantic dates (probably including at least one where she tries to do art with you. Results may vary) are frequent and so are cute little love letters. How sweet!

[prettymuchdeadalready]

100 Important Character Questions

Here’s looking at you kid, @wexarethewalkingxdead​ !! XD They’ll be below the cut due to length. {{ I despise ‘read mores’ except that it’s so fucking long! XD }}

1OO IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS

taken from beth kinderman and nikki walker’s the 100 most important things to know about your character. a good list to help develop a character’s background, personality, and general aspects. 

PART 1: THE BASICS

·         What is your full name? :: Bobby Autumn Monroe

·         Where and when were you born? :: Atlanta, Georgia at Grace Memorial at 4am on a Sunday.

·         Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.) :: Maryann JoMarie Monroe (nee Tippins) and Franklin Roosevelt Monroe ;; mama was a stay at home mother who became an addict to opiates and papa was a worker at the mill in Powder Springs, which was a HUGE (in his mind because he always resented it) drive from where they lived on the outskirts of Atlanta in a little cabin home one a sparce patch of land just outside a trailer park beside the woods. Mama was a strong woman who grew weak after nears of being beaten and bloodied by her drunk mean husband; having 3 kids kept her strong to a degree, however, for as long as she could be, trying to keep his attention on her and away from her kids. When she died (Bobby who was the eldest of them by 15 minutes) that all changed; Michael trying to draw the majority of the brutality because he was the boy and his father always was trying to beat on the girls when given little to no reason at all, even.

·         Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? :: Michael Henry Monroe and Katherine Emberlynn Monroe, in chronological order of birth after Bobby. Michael is an EMT on staff with New York Presbyterian Hospital, which is also Columbia University’s training hospital. Katherine is an aspiring actress in the LA area of California.

·         Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people. :: Bobby has never left Georgia. The only time she does is when the group moves on after season 4. She doesn’t know why she’s never left before, not even to visit her siblings that left her behind, but she always feels like, as the big sister, it’s her job to maintain a home for them to come back to, should they ever need it.

·         What is your occupation? :: Bobby is an ER nurse with Grace Fulton Memorial Hospital and regularly assists with trauma cases.

·         Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks. :: Height is 5’4. (Smol but mighty!) Weight fluctuates from 115 to 120 pounds depending on the time of year and stressors in her life; okay, maybe 124, but not an ounce more! She swears. Bobby is Caucasian American. Hair is an auburn brunet. Eyes are chocolate brown; when she is angry they appear almost amber in tone, and when sexually aroused they usually darken to an almost black. Her fashion sense is usually tomboy, wearing jeans and tee shirts; sometimes a little sporty with tight running pants, spandex or loose shorts, and tank tops. Bobby only has one tattoo that transcends any and all verses she might have: a black rose with three drips of blood on the petals, one at the end nearly ready to drop off, at the small of her back which reminds her of the fragility of life and death and the ever presence of the latter, the pain and struggle symbolized by the blood droplets on the petals. She has a long scar that runs the length of the space between where the band on her bra would rest down to her love handle, on the edge where her side meets her back – given to her by an abusive ex that was just like her father when drunk, only worse because he was legitimately a highly functioning and violently brutal psychopath and burn marks on her upper back/right shoulder blade and left outer thigh from where her father and her ex had their fun using her as an ashtray.

·         To which social class do you belong? :: Middle class. Working class.

·         Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? :: Maryanne had carpal tunnel and severe arthritis in her left arm from it being broken a couple times by her lovely husband. After her mother died Bobby was cooking dinner one night and her father, who had been drinking all evening from end of work until right that moment, picked up his hammer and hit Bobby in the upper left arm twice, hard. She had to wear a cast for two months (part of that time an extension after being thrown against the wall another separate night that shattered the first incarnation of the cast) to heal the broken bone. Thus, sometimes when its too cold she has bouts where her left arm is weak, not able to carry heavy things, and there was minimal nerve damage in the hand as a result which means she can’t always feel too hot, or too cold. This does not impair her job as she isn’t responsible for surgery where the steadiest of hands are needed; thankfully Bobby’s aid in the field is at most a needle and thread for mending/stitches, of which she can do with her dominant hand.

·         Are you right- or left-handed? :: Right handed.

·         What does your voice sound like? :: Natalie Portman.

·         What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently? :: Y’all. Jesus Harold Christ on crooked crutches. Jiminy Christmas. Calm down there Satan.

·         What do you have in your pockets? :: A pocket knife with combination of other fold out tools. Mini canister of mace. Car and house keys in some verses. Apocalypse verses she sometimes carries car keys.

·         Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? :: Bobby doesn’t consider anything she does as strange or annoying but just ask one of the people she considers family and he would say she talks too damn much. At least the other man in her life appreciates that she knows how to turn out the lights…

PART 2: GROWING UP

·         How would you describe your childhood in general? :: Stressful. Her days were constantly spent fearing what would happen when daddy got home, what mood would he be in, what would he do, would he just hurt mama or would he come after her and her siblings too…? Bobby grew up worrying about things no child should ever have to worry about or fear.

·         What is your earliest memory? :: Bobby doesn’t know for sure if this is a memory or some part of her subconscious trying to bring her peace, but in the quiet moments when she closes her eyes she can hear her mother’s voice softly singing to her as she’s being held, cradled in safe arms with worn delicate hands gently rubbing her back. “Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night and wouldn’t you love to love her…? Takes to the sky like a bird in flight and…who will be her lover? All your life you’ve never seen a woman…taken by the wind…”

·         How much schooling have you had? :: Bobby went through two years of high school before she was forced to drop out to care for her other siblings and make sure they got the best lives possible. It wasn’t perfect anyway, but she tried. She went back and got her GED when she turned 21. Immediately upon her father dying ( when she turned 19 ) she began putting some money away toward furthering her own education, enrolling in community college once her GED came through. She got a bachelor’s degree in science and biology, and earned certification and licensure as an EMT and trauma nurse.

·         Did you enjoy school? :: Bobby loved school. It was the only thing she could do outside the house that was usually constant and unbreakable, a schedule that the state decided for children and one her father couldn’t stop. This was she could be free of the worries and fears that usually plagued her days and simultaneously learn things about the world at large, all around her and beyond. It was refreshing and awe inspiring.

·         Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities? :: Anything she didn’t learn from her mother and her father ( positive or not ) she learned from school and the teachers and children in that environment.

·         While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them. :: The only role model Bobby had growing up was her mother, Maryanne. Mama taught her the strength and the tenacity she needed to make it in the world, both in her father’s house, and later.

·         While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family? :: Bobby and her mother started as adult to child relationship and then at the end when her mother was dying Bobby became an almost equal to her mother, taking care of her and herself and the siblings she had. Likewise, with her siblings, it was mostly a jovial peer to peer relationship ( and what sibling relationship was complete without the occasional fight and attempted murder ), which eventually merged into a motherly feeling over them, protective of them when their mother passed. Her relationship with her father was always strained, always wary and tumultuous and it only worsened when Maryanne died. He became more possessive of the kids and Bobby feared being raped or sexually abused by him after a time ( she looked more like her mother than Kath did ) as he would get drunk and beat her, yelling things like ‘how dare you leave me’ and ‘I’ll show you something to cry about you weak whore.’ That relationship was strained and haunted until the day he died.

·         As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? :: She wanted to be an astronaut or a pirate. Anything that could take her far far away from where she was and keep her safe, eventually far enough to make her happy in life.

·         As a child, what were your favorite activities? :: Anything Bobby could do outside the house. She spent AGES outside in the woods, roaming with nowhere in her mind to go in particular; she could sit on a stump deep in the sea of green and just space out, let her mind wander for hours. She would try to fish. She made friends with small woodland creatures like something out of a Disney film. She sometimes sat alone out there all night, looking up into the moon under a blanket of stars and a bed made of fallen leaves and long grass.

·         As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display? :: As a child, Bobby was pretty devoid of personality; at least when she was at home. At home and when she was alone she was quiet, too quiet. A mousy brown haired brown eyed little girl with nothing to say and who would lay low on purpose, anything not to catch her father’s attention. Outside of the house she often put on a brave face, smiling and laughing and acting like nothing was wrong. Sometimes she could even forget that she was a victim of domestic violence and forget her usual invisible act, coming out of herself and being herself, talkative ( almost too much talking for some ) and bright. Her light shines bright from within her and her strength and perseverance really show in her eyes.

·         As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? :: Bobby was not a popular kid at school. She often sat alone or with her siblings. Even the losers didn’t want to sit with them because everyone knew what the Monroe home life was like and who their father was, what he did to them and their mother. No one would claim them as friends, at least not outwardly or in public.

·         When and with whom was your first kiss? :: Daniel Dunn was her first kiss in most all her verses. He was a messed up kid, a psychopath that was highly functioning and much too sadistic, even as far as most psychopaths are concerned. He used her and abused her for most of her young adult years, as her father had her mother. ( What was it they said about emulating what you saw as a child and being doomed to repeat it…? ) In one of her verses she has known Daryl Dixon all of her life and he is her first kiss…her first everything.

·         Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? :: Same as the question above to be honest. Most of her verses features Daniel Dunn in that role, as fucked up and cruel as that is, and in the one it’s Daryl Dixon.

·         If you are a supernatural being (i.e. mage, werewolf, vampire), tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities. If you are just a normal human, describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today. :: Bobby was definitely informed by her childhood and her mother’s and father’s relationship as far as what kind of person she wanted to become. She would consciously always pick a path that led her to be her mother, kind and sweet and a pure heart with passion despite being regularly beaten down and broken by outside influences because of her goodness. She was also inspired to become a trauma nurse thanks to all the times she had to help fix up her mom, her siblings and herself over the years, some of the things she’d come into schooling being self-taught after a bad couple of nights.

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

·         What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? :: The night Dan almost killed her and she survived, barely, to be present and the star witness at the trial that would send him to prison for at least 20 years for attempted premeditated murder. And every so many years when probation is brought before the review board, release for good behavior, she makes sure she’s available to speak. She even takes the day off work to make sure she can go down and make herself and her story with him heard.

·         Who has had the most influence on you? :: Mama.

·         What do you consider your greatest achievement? :: Bouncing back from being a high school dropout ( even though her reasoning was perfectly acceptable and understandable ), getting her GED and her degrees. Putting herself first. Finally.

·         What is your greatest regret? :: Bobby blames herself for her mother’s death. Obviously her mother became addicted to opioids and died of an aortic rupture, which were things no little girl could have realistically been able to help or prevent. Nonetheless she thinks, and has believed all her life that maybe she wasn’t strong enough to help her mother through the worst of their lives, to survive past it and watch her babies grow up and succeed in the way their mama had always wanted and hoped.

·         What is the most evil thing you have ever done? :: Bobby pulled the wings off a fly once. Another time she pulled the back legs off of a grasshopper. It was, in her mind ( at least as a pretense ) all for science, but some psychologists and therapists might think otherwise.

·         Do you have a criminal record of any kind? :: Bobby has gotten arrested a couple times, all for misdemeanor things like stealing a candy bar from a convenience store and for indecent exposure in her small town when she was caught with her pants down around the bend, side of the road, peeing in the brush while drunk.

·         When was the time you were the most frightened? :: Bobby was frightened to the same extent twice in her life. The first when her mother was being beaten for the last time ( which was also the night she died ) and when Bobby herself was being beaten and broken and nearly killed by Dan.

·         What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you? :: When she was 15 ( which is not a legal age of consent and no, I do not condone anything happening to minors, this is just FICTION ) she was being diddled by Dan in the back seat of his car ( he was older than she was by 2 years as well ) when she opened her eyes to find the window down and a couple of Dan’s older friends jerking themselves off to what Dan was doing to her, turning her on and playing with her. She immediately wanted to stop and thankfully there were other people walking by when she started screaming or she most likely would have been forced to continue against her will. It was both embarrassing for her and equally as dangerous and twisted a situation.

·         If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why? :: Bobby often wishes she was older and stronger than she was when her mother died. She wants to be able to go back and take her siblings out of that environment altogether. She wants to have been able to maybe even save her mother.

·         What is your best memory? :: The ones alone in the woods. Anything where the woodlands creatures accepted her as a part of their world, knowing inherently she wouldn’t hurt them.

·         What is your worst memory? :: The way her mother died, in her arms, at home. There were no police and no ambulance until it was too late to save her, much too late.

PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

·         Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? :: Optimistic.

·         What is your greatest fear? :: Being powerless and out of control of her own life.

·         What are your religious views? :: She’s spiritual but does not ascribe to any one particular religious sect or view. She tends to take a little of this and a little of that from various religions, whatever she feels she can identify with in the moment and incorporate into her lifestyle.

·         What are your political views? :: Progressive Liberal Independent.

·         What are your views on sex? :: The more the better. Well, provided it’s the right person and it’s consensual. Also, sometimes a little kinky if she trusts the person she’s with implicitly.

·         Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable? :: In any verses where the apocalypse doesn’t exist ( or not yet ) she could only kill if it was someone threatening her life or the lives of her family/spouse/kids. In the apocalypse, she begins just as they all did, saying they would never kill the living, then only if she had to, and progressing until doing it regularly because she had to and there were rarely other options. Not to say there are moments when she should kill and doesn’t, for one reason or another, but she makes sure to weigh the call. Taking a life, being a healer as she is and continues to be, isn’t an easy call to make.

·         In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? :: To abuse physically, emotionally, mentally, and/or sexually a child. To Bobby that is the most reprehensible crime.

·         Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? :: Yes.

·         What do you believe makes a successful life? :: The impact one has on the world around them, whoever or whatever they touch/influence. What a person leaves behind, their legacy.

·         How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)? :: Bobby is pretty honest about her feelings now, almost to a detriment. She’s brutally honest about thoughts and feelings and has been pretty intense in all aspects of her life since her father died and set her free from the binds of her past.

·         Do you have any biases or prejudices? :: Bobby has biases against rapists and child molesters, child abusers and domestic violence offenders. Really, she feels as though anyone who breaks the law for more than stealing some food ( if a person is desperate to eat or feed their family ) they should do the time applicable to the crime.

·         Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it? :: Bobby doesn’t like to lie. She won’t do it. If asked to lie she will retreat from the conflict altogether, saying nothing to either party. If asked for the truth, therefore, she would have to tell the truth. Her replies at being asked to lie always include some formulation of ‘if you want to propagate lies and slander then do it in your name.’ Her refusal stems from years of her mother and her family lying to the authorities, to medical professionals, to the world about what they went through at her father’s hands. ( Whether they knew or not otherwise wasn’t the point. )

·         Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)? :: Family and friends that have become family. Her spouse, her partner, the person she’s chosen to spend the rest of her life with. Her children, adopted or natural, blood or not.

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

·         In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how? :: Bobby is always guided by the other person. She will usually begin friendly and polite, if a bit wary and gruff depending on the circumstances. It always depends on the first impression and expression of the other person how she reacts and treats them from there, forward. Sometimes a rude or dislike situation can be changed over time if both parties work toward making it positive or a catalyst turns the dynamic around. Likewise, if someone starts off friendly with her it can turn to dislike and even hatred if given the right cataclysm. She read this quote once that she lives by : ‘if you feel it necessary to judge me by my past, don’t be surprised when I put you in it.’ Most often, however, if a person is able to get past all the walls she’s built over time against being hurt viscerally by someone intimately, they’re in her heart and they’re usually there for good.

·         Who is the most important person in your life, and why? :: It depends on the verse. Sometimes all she has left are her brother and sister. Other verses are dependent on her family/attachments/spouses/significant others. Rick, Shane, Daryl, Charley, etc. Family is important to Bobby, especially at the end of the world. Her children are first and foremost the most important people in her life in the verses in which she has them.

·         Who is the person you respect the most, and why? :: Carol. No matter what verse is concerned, this holds true. She sees a lot of her mother in Carol. A lot of the same strengths and hopes and dreams that have been tramped down by a man with a heavy hand and an awfully small constitution. Of all the people Bobby has the pleasure to meet in all her travels and all her realities, Carol is the one person she loves and supports and looks up to the most.

·         Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people. :: Bobby has very few friends in the real world. As stated before she was never a popular kid growing up and only got any recognition for her beauty by boys or girls with one thing on the mind. The only people she considers as true friends she made after the world as she knew it already ended. Carol. Daryl. Rick. Shane. Maggie. Glenn. Enid. King Ezekiel. Jerry. Jesus. Aaron. Etc. The only exception to this is the verse where she’s known Daryl all her life; in that case she’s always had him. He is her best friend. And her cat, Patches, a gray and white tabby cat with darker gray almost black ears, definitely constitutes as a best friend.

·         Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person. :: Daryl – nickname Tracker; annoyed and frustrated with how much she talks but loves her for it anyway and finds it kind of endearing despite himself; afraid of intimacy in the same way that she is and was and what makes them a good fit is their willingness now to grow together solely with one another; can’t live with her and can’t live without her; hillbilly grump with the most honest, pure, innocent heart of anyone she knows. Shane – nickname Deputy; knows who the real boss of the house is; is probably afraid of Bobby…maybe…like a lot; strong willed, passionate, and has an easy anger reflex; they fight a lot about the silliest things but it always come back to love; the thing he probably loves the most about her is that she knows how to turn the damn lights off. Rick – no nickname as yet; he really stepped into the leader role over the time they’ve known each other; Bobby never expected to follow him as closely as she does now; they don’t always agree but they rarely actually fight; he’s the epitome of calm and problem solving in dire situations; he’d walk through Hell and all its fire for her and his kids and probably everyone else he cares for and that’s the one thing she loves the most above all else about him. Mac – nickname Cupcake; strictly a fanfiction/headcanon ship at this point; used to ship this pairing exclusively with macxtheanimal way back when; a meth head, rapist, murderer, criminal, muscle and enforcer for his father’s crystal meth operation; he’s a villain that makes no apologies for his actions but she can see the broken little boy in him, abandoned by his mother so long ago to his father’s lifestyle; kept her hostage as a sex slave for a long time until they had an intimate exchange one night and she whispered to him that she just wanted to be free to make the choice; he let her go, saying she was free and he knew she’d always leave because they all did if given a chance; she stayed. {{ All are subject to change based on verse or partner writing this with us. Mostly these listings as spouses or SO’s are exclusive right now to wexarethewalkingxdead and macxtheanimal. }}

·         Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened. :: She’s only been in love a couple times in her life. ( Verse dependent. ) It almost always ends in pain and suffering for her, be it physically or emotionally, but there are a few over the verses/years that she’s found true happiness with.

·         What do you look for in a potential lover? :: Connection. Chemistry. Sexy/pretty eyes. Rough pads of their hands and they have to be steady and firm. Stable.

·         How close are you to your family? :: Bobby and her siblings are VERY close, even though they don’t live in the same place anymore. Sometimes herself and her sister Kath haven’t always been as close as they should have been. Those moments are almost always based on imagined slights of some kind because Bobby is and always has been an outspoken person; she never sugar coats things that should be communicated. It follows in the same vein as her always being truthful. Hence, sometimes hurt feelings. Bobby and the people she’s come to think of as family are likewise, VERY close with these same issues of hurt feelings now and again, resulting mostly in a short time of silence or avoidance between the parties.

·         Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not? :: This is dependent on her verses. In some she does make a family with someone special. In others she hasn’t, whether because she hasn’t found that someone yet or because she’s afraid of finding a man like her father and subjecting herself to the same life her mother lived prior to her death – not to mention subjecting any children they might have to that lifestyle.

·         Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help? :: Bobby would turn to her siblings first, provided it was something they could solve realistically. If they aren’t available or they can’t fix it because they live out of state, etc, the next stop would be her chosen family, friends she’s made along the way that would go the extra mile for her, and she for them.

·         Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why? :: Very few people and they have to prove themselves to her with their deeds, not just words and promises coming off lips and tongues that have lied so many times they probably don’t even know they’re doing it anymore.

·         If you died or went missing, who would miss you? :: Her family ( her brother and sister ) have been living in different states from her for quite a few years now but that doesn’t mean they’ve become distant. They would definitely miss her. Also any of the family she’s made in the apocalypse. Obviously this is verse dependent.

·         Who is the person you despise the most, and why? :: Actually, I think Bobby despises her mother the most of anyone she’s ever known in her life. It’s a very complicated relationship. Bobby still loves her mother; while she was alive she was the only kindness Bobby and her siblings knew. She was strong and endured a lot but that same strength could also be considered weakness. Why couldn’t she have left their father? Why couldn’t she have taken them away and made a go of it on their own? Maybe she’d be alive today. Maybe a lot of things. So Bobby is constantly fighting with love and hate for the woman that bore her.

·         Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict? :: Bobby has a good sense for whatever a situation calls for, usually. In most circumstances she will listen and hear someone out before saying her piece. But she is southern and strong willed, a stiff backbone, and sometimes the outrage comes dripping off her teeth like venom before she can stave them off. In moments when she can’t be smart and hold her tongue, and even when she does, Bobby is a woman who is definitely not afraid of conflict if she feels the situation calls for it.

·         Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? :: Bobby is strong enough to take the weight of the world on her shoulders. It certainly depends on what the situation is, but in the case of her primary verse – in the Walker apocalypse – she doesn’t hold back. As a healer, a nurse, she will absolutely take on a leadership role if one is needed. If another leader is present, and she respects that person, they will only gain support from her; likewise, if they do not have her respect, all they will get it push-back until they either utilize her and her ideas to their potential or she potentially replaces them as the leader. She’s very strong but she is versatile. She knows when to step back and let things shake loose.

·         Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not? :: Bobby has always been a little bit of a loner. She’d personable but she also likes her alone time. As previously discussed, there wasn’t a lot of silent time in her home and she much rather would have been somewhere alone with her thoughts instead of lined up ready to catch a beating. Large crowds do tend to make her a little anxious. She’d much rather only deal with a few people at a time.

·         Do you care what others think of you? :: Bobby does care what other people thing of her, to an extent. She doesn’t dwell on it, however, and if there are ever opinions that are misconstrued or wrong she will make sure not to ever think on those things again. The only thing that usually can get to Bobby is when people she loves and is devoted to make comments to her that can be considered derogatory or hurtful, judging.

PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

·         What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes? :: Hiking and taking walks in the lush green forests. Photography. Reading. Her grandma taught her mother how to sew and thus, taught Bobby enough to get by; those nursing lessons on stitching wounds up didn’t hurt either.

·         What is your most treasured possession? :: Patches. He is a grey and white tabby cat with dubious bloodline origin with black ears. She’s had him with her for a long time and she’d walk through fire for him if she had to.

·         What is your favorite color? :: Blue.

·         What is your favorite food? :: Seafood boil.

·         What, if anything, do you like to read? :: Bobby is an always will be a fan of anything she can get her hands on. She does go through moods, however, devoted to certain genres over the others. Predominantly she reads works of fiction about murder and crime, who done its and thrillers. Horror novels are a must as well. A favorite series of hers is the By The Numbers novels about Stephanie Plum and her life fumble bumbling through the Bounty Hunter business by Janet Evanovich. Romance novels, unless well written with a predominant plot encompassing one of the aforementioned genres, can go suck lemons!

·         What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)? :: Bobby is mostly a music person. Movies are fine and television can captivate her attention if its done well but there’s nothing better than putting in a CD, or plugging her headphones into her phone’s jack and playing some tunes on the digital frequency. It sets the mood, no matter what that mood is, 100% of the time.

·         Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit? :: Bobby used to smoke. It was something to do with her hands and a nervous tick that she adopted mostly in crowded groups of people to help calm her nerves in those situations. Social smoking. Whether or not she still does it verse dependent. Bobby also drinks alcoholic beverages but within reason and rarely ever to excess.

·         How do you spend a typical Saturday night? :: In the apocalypse there is a lot to do, all of the time. There’s never a dull moment. Saturdays are usually reserved for whatever needs doing that wasn’t done the day before, as well as making time for family and friends trying to reclaim what was stolen from them by the world as it exists now. In the other verses where the world is normal, Saturdays are usually reserved for family time, the park, the zoo, barbecues with family and friends, etc. On the rare occasion work comes calling – she is an emergency room nurse – she will sometimes go in. And sometimes not.

·         What makes you laugh? :: Stupid jokes, dad jokes, horrible puns. Her husband. Her kids. New airings and reruns of America’s Funniest Home Videos.

·         What, if anything, shocks or offends you? :: Racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, slurs and swear words used in conjunction with said slurs and behavior, etc. Anything that could be considered along the same vein by small minded people who are afraid of anything they don’t know and haven’t bothered to become educated about/in.

·         What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself? :: Insomnia does sometimes strike. It happens in those moments when something exceptionally traumatic happens at work or there happens to be a scare with her husband, kids, or siblings/family, those moments when she’s in the dark of the night, sometimes alone, with her own thoughts and fears. Sometimes there is no amusing herself. Sometimes she has to talk herself down off a very high ledge. Sometimes she has to wake up her significant other ( if present ) just to know they’re there, they’re alive. Sometimes the heartbeat and the steady breathing isn’t enough.

·         How do you deal with stress? :: Bobby reads. She keeps her hands busy cooking, cleaning, and caring for her family. Killing Walkers in the apocalypse, keeping a tight perimeter. Yoga and pilates in the verses where the world hasn’t changed.

·         Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan? :: Bobby is usually a very plan oriented person. She’s learned over the years that the only way to be is concerned, vigilant, if a bit controlling. That isn’t to say that she’s a control freak, but she does have strong opinions and will be heard on them. She wishes she was more spontaneous and sometimes makes attempts to purposely exit her comfort zone in certain situations she deems it appropriate, such as her sex life, dates, etc.

·         What are your pet peeves? :: People who can’t follow directions or laws of an ordered society. People who lie or steal unless circumstances are such that would overwrite the negative or somehow make an allowance for it. People who judge others or presume to tell other people their business when they don’t even have their lives together.

PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

·         Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted? :: Regardless of what her work schedule works like ( days or evenings ) Bobby gets up around 5 a.m. daily. She makes coffee through the slits of her eyelids. She then returns to the bathroom where she showers and brushes her teeth. By that time she usually is ready to start breakfast for herself and whoever else is present. Morning shifts she works until 3 p.m. She will usually run any errands she has to do at that time before coming home and making dinner. Night shifts she works until 11 p.m. doing the errands and prepping dinner before leaving for the night for her shift. If her routine happens to be interrupted or subverted in any way, she usually gets a little perturbed, might make a dramatic comment about everything being a mess, and carrying on with things as best as she can.

·         What is your greatest strength as a person? :: Her heart and her generosity. It helped her overcome a lot of odds that were stacked against her from the beginning.

·         What is your greatest weakness? :: Her heart. Sometimes she’s loyal to a fault even though the people she let inside of it use her and abuse her. Also her stubborn as a mule attitude and her stiff backbone. When she’s made up her mind there’s very precious little that can change it.

·         If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? :: How her past shaped her to be numb and emotionless in certain situations that require feeling. She doesn’t always respond in the right ways to tragedy or loss. Sometimes not responding at all. It’s a more calloused wounded part of herself she wished she didn’t have.

·         Are you generally introverted or extroverted? :: Generally extroverted but in small doses. Large gatherings or venues kept to a minimum.

·         Are you generally organized or messy? :: Organized.

·         Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at. :: Good – 1) Problem solving, 2) Nursing/healing, 3) Being a wife and mother. Bad – 1) Spontaneity, 2) Letting go, 3) Cleaning vomit.

·         Do you like yourself? :: Yes. For the most part.

·         What are your reasons for being an adventurer (or doing the strange and heroic things that RPG characters do)? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…) :: It’s a choice you make. When things get difficult, what kind of person would you want to be? If a child cries in the dark, scared, alone; would you help them? Or would you turn away? Tell yourself it’s not your concern. If a mother and father are fighting for their child’s life as the child is being physically removed from their arms, wounded, killed before them. Would you intervene if you could? Or turn your back? Would you do everything you could because you have the ability, because you have the choice or do you do nothing, make the choice not to, and perhaps blood be on your hands…? It’s a choice she makes every day to do better, to be someone she could be proud of, that her family would remember and be proud of long after she was gone. Her sacrifice, if needed, would not be in vane.

·         What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime? :: Leave the world a little better than she found it.

·         Where do you see yourself in 5 years? :: She can’t say. She hopes to be alive and well, actually living a life and happy within its confines. But she knows that may never come. Not even tomorrow is guaranteed…

·         If you could choose, how would you want to die? :: Old and grey in her sleep. In the apocalypse, if she could choose and she was bitten/injured beyond the ability to be healed, she would want to shoot herself in the head before changing. She wouldn’t want to leave it for any of her loved ones to do; she doesn’t want that burden to be on their soul.

·         If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left. :: 1) Write little notes or letters to those she loved who would miss her and feel her loss the most. 2) Love on and spend a lot of time with the children, 3) Clean, load, cock and ready her gun and wait.

·         What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death? :: Her kindness. How many people she helped. How far out of her way she sometimes went to make that happen.

·         What three words best describe your personality? :: Brave, Generous, and Loyal

·         What three words would others probably use to describe you? :: Bold, Daring, and Realistic

·         If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? (You might even want to speak as if he or she were sitting right here in front of you, and use proper tone so he or she might heed your advice…) :: Bobby. You are without a doubt the biggest pain in my ass, second only to Shane and Daryl. You are the most generous, kind, loyal person I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. You’re also one of the most stubborn. A word of advice might be you think too much. You plan and you organize and you get shit done. I get it. But sometimes, you’re a little too extra. Learn what it’s like to be a girl. Let your hair down more. Unscrew the dick sometimes. It’s fun being a girl. And I know that you know that but you’re too afraid to lose control because you think if you do you’ll lose everything good you ever had. And I know it’s because you don’t think you deserve all the good you have received over the years. You’re beauty. You’re grace. You’re the kind of person I wish I could be sometimes; but you need to be a little less afraid of what you could lose and more willing to risk it all. A man in my life asked me once if a moment of happiness was worth a lifetime of anything else. And the answer is yes.

[maserati-yokota]

JWP THE FIGHT 5/10/97

Turns out the opening was just highlights from the Ozaki/Kudo deathmatch, not the opening match. Still, seeing Kudo reverse a chain lariat into a butt bump was incredible.

There's also a clip from 94 of the end of the trainees exam where Kanako Motoya earned her spot in the roster, and a few highlights. Who is Kanako Motoya? Turns out she mostly worked under the name Kana Misaki. She retired in 2001 with 321 matches under her belt in 11 different promotions. Tonight, there's a banner in Korakuen Hall that says "Fight! Kanako PureHoppe". Sometimes highlight reels are good.

JWP World Junior Title: Tomoko Kuzumi vs. Kanako Motoya

The hungry youths start off with a quick lucha exchange, lock up, then quickly move outside the ring. Kanako does a fake-out plancha into a handstand and Kuzumi levels her with a quick dropkick. I get the impression given the hype vid Kanako is gonna get the belt, so this is a smart way to start. But who gives a shit. I'm not Meltzer. Smart shit is for suckers. Smart shit is fan service for the bleakest and most ashamed part of wrestling fandom; the people who demand that the art speak specifically to them so they can feel their investment is somehow being reciprocated. If you love wrestling you know it's dumb a lot of the time. Accept that you're a dork who loves a weird, dumb, niche art. Even dumb shit can be transcendent and great. If you're bitter that you've invested so much time and energy in something that continues to disappoint you, don't turn it into criticism. Stop watching. Shut it off, give me all your tapes, and go do normal shit. But mostly gimme your tapes. Blast me with footage, daddy. Kuzumi spends some time trying to rip off Kanako's injured arm. You can practically hear the tendons sputter and pop like wet noodles. THAT'S that shit I LIKE. Kanako recoops. Frustrated at Kanako's fighting spirit, Kuzumi chains 40,000 double-arm suplexes together and dumps her over the top rope. Kanako kicks her off the turnbuckle and gets control. A few counters later, she gets a nice nearfall out of a powerbomb attempt. Kanako attempts her own doulbe-arm suplex but Kuzumi is having none of it and reverses her own double-arm into a backbreaker. TWICE. AND THEN A THIRD TIME. YES. GOOD. Somehow Kanako rallies and nails the nastiest looking senton I've maybe ever seen; it's not a glancing senton, where you just catch your opponent with your shoulders and upper back. She landed square on her gut, full force. Fuck yeah. Her rolling senton is just as beautiful. One more senton and a nearfall. Missed top-rope rolling senton and now Kuzumi tries a corkscrew variation and eats boot. Kuzumi lands an incredible german, grabbing only Kanako's upper thighs?! Fuck that ruled. Kuzumi attempts another top rope move and eats a second helping of kick. But Kuzumi catches Kanako off the top and rolls her up for 3. Title retained, tears shed, dope shit done.

Hype vid showing everyone in the promotion killing everyone else. Saito eats a top-rope senton from Devil Masami on the back of the head???!!?? She sells it by passing away.

Cuty and Plum are contemplative but determined. Insane to think Plum would literally die in the ring like a year later.

JWP Tag Titles: Devil Masami & Hikari Fukuoka vs. Cuty Suzuki & Plum Mariko This batch of JWP tapes has reminded me of something I kinda knew but didn't believe; Cuty was a great wrestler. You don't need to point to her singles match with Takako Inoue as the only example. She's got years of great shit. She's good as a heel cuz she plays a good mean girl. She's good as an underdog cuz she's over with the crowd. She holds her own in singles matches and is great at heat segments in tags. And it's not her fault Battle Girl was a bad movie, ok?? Cuty dodges a ton of Fukuoka's offense, slaps her face and dumps her on her head. She doesn't get to do her fun hand-stomp though. (Somewhere Tsukushi is flinching.) Cuty eats some mat and quickly tags in Plum who gets crushed by Devil and then Fukuoka. God, no wonder she had a brain condition. Devil mailing it in is still Devil, so I don't mind one bit. She chews the scenery and smothers Plum before Plum rips her limbs off and throws them in a sewer. Cuty puts Devil in an octopus hold and Plum taunts her from the ropes. They're the mean girls you'll fall in love with, premiering this fall on ABC. Cuty wrenches a Fukuoka's head and makes you remember that headlocks can be great and scary af. Devil fights out of a full nelson by violently elbowing Plum. Cuty hits a sloppy jumping knee but Devil is a good sport and makes it look deadly. Few missed spots but everybody's down to clown so it doesn't matter. Cuty, however, DOES NOT MISS a snap german. FUCK. Cuty sinks in a triangle choke on Fukuoka and somewhere Anderson Silva smiles. Plum stomps on Fukuoka's arm for good measure. Heels? Faces? Who cares. Devil kicks Plum in the face a thousand times and Plum screams at her until her eyes turn into lasers. The front row is cleanly beheaded. Everyone in Tokyo lines up to german suplex Devil. Devil responds by powerbombing Cuty until she explodes, then heel-kicks her in the dome for good measure. What was I saying about Devil mailing it in? Well, I'm an idiot. Devil powerbombs Plum so hard her head bounces about a foot off the mat and I'm not being hyperbolic. It was horrific. Plum misses a top rope spot and gets another good bump on the skull outside the ring. Devil is murder-horny and continues to dump her on her head. Sit-out powerbomb for the win. Ya'll, that was fun as hell.

[dreameaterentertainment-blog]

3.

"If you loved someone, you loved him, and when you had nothing else to give, you still gave him love."

1984 by George Orwell

  - -

Hello dear,

Does it make sense if I type everything down here? I suppose it doesn't and it does and it doesn't.

Your space key sucks.

It's hard to explain everything. The other day I woke up and dazed at the ceiling before breaking into tears. It gets a bit overwhelming, you know.The thought of it -- the thought of one whole year having passed by since my entire "high school" (for lack of better description) life ended. And then here I am, lying in NTU and wrapped up with warmth that tenderly wipes my tears away; wrapped up in love that I couldn't have, for the life of me, imagined would be possible at all one year ago.

(Love is not a side effect of dying. Love is one thing that life offers you that transcends all of life and death and if anything at all; it's the only thing that continues to keep you alive even when you're long dead and gone. The love you gave others and the love that others continue to give you: it continues on and on, a breath that continuously passes from man to man and does not fade away.

I still remember your journal post about seeing death, and how you wished to leave some impact on the world, so I'll say it here. Your biggest imprint on the world will be that of love, or the antagonist to it. Which it shall be is your choice to make.)

I read the tumblr text you left for me in drafts, but at that point of time I was much too far gone to comprehend the entirety of your words. I may or may not have shed a few successive water droplets from my eye sacs but that will be another philosophical discussion for us to handle another time. I saw that you had left me something, but I told myself to save it for a rainy day so it would cheer me up. But when the rainy day did come and when I read it, I was much too lost with my head in a pit of despair to let anything pass through it properly.

That's past now. Thank you for your promises, which in retrospect I realize shouldn't have caused me so much agony.

I remember when you exploded and afterwards I ran after you on Halloween (and then had to deal with the pres and all), I was so so scared. I thought, is it my place to bother, do I even know the words to say, and can I even help at all? The obvious answer was no. No, I didn't and I don't and even now when anyone at all is in trouble, I still don't know the words to say. But it was just the words, "I'll follow you into the dark," that kept repeating in my head. And I guess that's about how it is. I'll follow you into the dark. You once said that if the entire world stood against you, you'd know she'd have your back. And I guess I'm trying to say that I'll try to have your back too, as a friend. For you, a thousand times over, I'll follow you into the dark.

For you, a thousand times over.

- -

I know that our group right now is kind of messy, and I know that starting on this project is kind of... Big. Things will work out. I already see problems popping out, and I hope that it doesn't get worse and that it resolves itself soon enough; and I mean, I even have a few things to scold you about (that's the dilemma I have. I'll support you but as a friend i have to correct you too, right? That's hard to negotiate, and I'm always afraid of losing you, so I never dare to scold you too much. You know me. Passive aggressive, never direct. Uncertain if my advice is even correct) But hell or high heaven, I know for sure that you'll do it. I know for sure that you'll make it.

Here are words for you to remember: When you work, remember that people are humans. It's probably unprofessional (something I ironically like to stress a lot), but being professional or not, we are all first and foremost human. We try, we are happy when we do well; but we err so often, and sometimes we simply err so terribly. For those who are unable, remember that everyone's in a different growth stage and none are as mature as yourself. Be patient. Give them time to grow, push them in the right direction. For those who are satisfied with themselves, challenge them more. For those whose attitude sucks bitchass, you have all permission to slap them, but you must also remember that they're unfortunate to have such little passion for their capacity to be amazing. And their maturity still needs time to grow. For those that throw themselves out and stretch themselves even further, give them their due rewards. And for those so uncertain of themselves that they turn inwards to create more wounds on their own soul - remind them that they will grow. Remind them that they have so much more to go. Remind them that they are amazing in their own rights. Remind them to see value and to love themselves. And remind them that they are loved.

Sometimes I scare myself, and I don't know what it is about me that I simply can't hold onto life properly. I'm made out of complexities of paradoxes. I love life deeply, but I want to squeeze the air from my lungs and out of my throat. I am constantly in love with the world in all its visual intricacies and the warmth of human breath, but all the same i wish for everything to disappear; and if that can't happen then I'd rather make myself disappear. I sometimes wish I could die. But all the time, I think that I'm okay if I die. (that's a lie too, I'm too scared and too much in love with life to die, but like I said I'm made out of complexities of paradoxes and there is nothing romantic about dying but neither is there anything romantic about living and I think that that's all there is to it.

(Can you hold the voices in until you die? I'm sorry you have to know me, I'm sorry for being so fucking pathetic. I want to rip myself from inside out, I want to scratch my heart out. It's a personal treat from the world, this shadow of mine that holds itself around my throat and swings and swings and swings. What do you say as you smile from your noose and deny that you're suffocating even though you've already lost your voice? All dying words are true and the chandeliers you swing from are all too real, but you reject them again and again.) 

I was much too far out all my life

And not waving but drowning

(It's a poem, go look it up.)

I'm sorry if you ever find me at the bottom of bath tub. At the expanse of a shore. At the end of a rope (I don't pitch myself to be so brave). At the foot of a building, or with pale hands and empty bottles rolling about on the floor. I'm sorry. Even when you find me with bleeding thighs or wrists, I need you to know that I never resented you. I need you to know that I loved you, and you had made my life better. If you ever want to find traces of me when I'm gone, I hate to say this, but ask Rayman. Rayman Tung. He'll know. He's the only one who knows about my personal blog, and I'm always this close to telling you about it but not close enough to want to spill all of myself out. Maybe when the time comes it doesn't matter anymore. But who knows.

(If I ever lose myself, I gift to you my tablet and all my silent words of love I could never express properly. I can't think of anyone better.)

And God forbid I should ever find you in such a state. Please. Don't.

My dear, what were the other 2 instances of death that you saw?

When April 1st comes, don't crack April fools jokes. They kill me inside, not because of the humour. But because of a friend that committed a terrible joke on the rest of his friends and never came back again. I will tell you one day about him. Maybe when April 1st comes, and I loose myself again in fits of white. Maybe then I'll let you read about him, and the tale I've written about him.

We're going to work together tomorrow. I'm afraid I'll disappoint you. I'm afraid it'll screw our relationship up. If I do fail or if you start to hate me, please say it to my face, so I can buck the fuck up. I will try, even if I seem to treat things flippantly. I will try, and I will continue trying my whole life. Be sure of that, and be sure to slap me in place when I've forgotten it.

My dear,

I speak too much and I write too long. Farewell for now, adieu. In the distance past and the distant future. 

I believe in you, always.

- -

"For you, a thousand times over."

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

[49scribes-a]

Starters From Shit Said In Gaming Streams:

Some NSFW and potentially triggering content

“Yeah sometimes those big zombies just don't take the hint and then half their bodies come after me.”

“Stop throwing up zombies. Its unsanitary.”

“Thigh highs fit for any _____.”

“BARREL ROLL.”

“Stop keeping quotes about the shit I say when I'm _________.”

“OH, RAPID FIRE. RAPID FIRE. LOOK AT THAT.”

“...whatever the fuck that shit is.”

*sarcastically* “Oh nooo... an ambush. Like, whatever will I do.”

“Y'know I would've fallen from whatever height that was and I would've gotten up.”

“OYNO. Where is it? KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT.”

“Ew it popped.”

“____lord disapproves.”

“Rocking that [name]licious scarf.”

“SHIT ITS BOY/GIRLFRIEND IS COMING.”

“Oh, shit, that's a lot.”

“Of course half of them had to live.”

“Oh did you die finally? Thanks for the money! Even if you only had ___.”

“You made people suffer enough when you were alive. Can't you, y'know, give it a rest?”

“I'm little red riding hood~”

" 'Just got [name]'d'. WOW. You really gonna go there?”

“Already went there.”

“Okay I'm bored. I'm gonna leave it. I'm gonna leave it alone.”

“Op she's vomitting zombies.”

“Deeeeaaaaaath.”

“[name]licious used Swift! Its super effective!”

“Please stop.”

“Whoa that star kinda freaked out.”

“Pop goes the zombubble.”

“Y'know whenever people say [ran him through with a sword] I think of someone like literally running and PLUNGING their sword through someone.”

“If ur sword-running game ain't as strong as Season 2 Suzaku's y'ain't doin it right.”

“We don't talk about that ending. That still hurts me.”

“OF COURSE WE DO. You know what we REALLY don't talk about?"

“WE DON’T TALK ABOUT _____.”

“The goat people!!! And the trees...”

“We've got demonic goat people, I think some frogs... yep, definitely a frog.”

“This house is on fire but it wasn't me.”

“Ooooo legendary shoulders.”

“Oh great, they explode.”

“Biiiirb. Birb birb birb birb. Caw caw motherclucker. BIIIIIRB.”

“I'm going to name this bird ______, and it will be the best ______.”

“Did you just name that ____ after [name]?”

“[name]licious and [name]. Nice(tm).”

“You could've lived if you just stayed still like a good tree.”

“Swift Game Intensifies.”

“Cat Fight!”

“Long time no dick shot.”

"[NAME] YOU ARE BANNED.”

“Holy shit that was a trip.”

“The sweet sound of projectile evisceration.”

“Anybody alive on this side? Okay good I don't need that kind of drama in my life.”

“I COULDN'T STOP PUNCHING HIM.”

“Story of my life.”

“I love how you got literally blown away.”

“Fuck your _____-- SHIT, FUCK--”

“We forgot to start a swear count.”

“Explode, explode, explode-- yyeeaaaaa.”

“I HATE LIFE WHAT IS THAT HOW DID I MISS”

“RIPPERONI SWISS CHEESE”

“Don't you give me your patronizing pats I don't need them.”

“See if I ever give you sympathy pats again.”

“I'm still keeping quotes just fyi.”

“Fucking gasp.”

“BLOWUP BLOWUP BLOWUP BLOWUP.”

“STOP TAKING QUOTES, [NAME] oh my god--”

“I need to take that guy over there with that freaking shotgun Hell nya.”

“YOINK.”

“Eeeeew he ragdolled...”

“Uuuh what did you guys see-- actually nope no I take it back I don't wanna know I don't wanna know what you guys saw.”

“2 much swear 4 utube.”

“I... read that as [do you know how many brain dead dick heads I've hung in my life] and I was like... since when did you kill people?”

“If I killed people you would know because I wouldn't be able to keep my disgusting disection pictures to my fucking self.”

"[CHECK OUT THIS ORGAN LOOK HOW WEIRD IT IS].”

“I was going to laugh if you pole-vaulted to your doom.”

“Well, no, you can swing across. Me? I'm gonna get fUCKED.”

“HIS LEG WORK.”

“I'M IN ATUAL TEARS.”

“I'm like... expecting something to blow up at this poi-- aaand there it is.”

“I don't know what you're reaching for cuz God ain't gonna help you.”

“Wouldn't it be funny if he hit the window and he just... didn't go through it. Just hit the window with a loud THUNK like a bird hitting glass.”

“That rocket launcher is gonna become my best friend.”

“YOU STILL FUCKING SURVIVED THAT SHIT? YOU TOOK IT TO THE /FACE/.”

“Fuck off, I don't want what you're selling-- I DON'T WANT WHAT YOU'RE SELLING.”

“Fuck your turret gun.”

“Fuck it.”

“YEAA-- NOOOOO.”

“How did that not just shove his nose into his skull?”

“I wouldn't have gotten back up, I would've been down. I would've probably been knocked out or... winded... and crying.”

“Yea fuck you _______ I don't like you either.”

“Her name is _____ lady and _____ lady it shall stay.”

“I can't wait to-- Oh look another fucking _______.”

“MAN, HE TWIRLLLED.”

“When I die, I want to ragdoll.”

“Why ragdoll like an Uncharted NPC when you can ragdoll like a Skyrim character leaping off the top of the Throat of the World on the back of a horse.”

“The music is so nice when you don't pay attention to the destruction around you.”

“I want to glitch through the ground, stretching for miles across the land while twitching enough to unnerve the most bad ass fucker before flipping off into space like a goddamn hyper speed rubber band.”

“You want the weirdest things...”

“But they are simple things.”

“How is her makeup still straight. Eye liner still on point.”

“HEY LOOK ITS YOU-- I'm just kidding.”

“You hurt my feelings, that IS totally me.”

“Worship me and my big blue ball.”

“Oh that werewolf fucker. Fucking closet furry.”

“Manicure my _____ nails.”

“I know, I have to fix your ass because all your shit is where its not supposed to be.”

“WELL ITS NOT FUN IF I MAKE IT EASY.”

“DO U THINK I WANT PEOPLE IN HERE TOUCHING ALL MY SECRET SHIT.”

“I GOT PORN MAGS IN HERE.”

“You know I just kinda realized how weird of a pose that is.”

“Tbh -- its taking a huge shit.”

“For some reason I forgot the water drains and thought the statue's loin cloth lifts to reveal a doorway between its legs.”

“God damn it, tired of your bullshit. Have to keep fixing your stuff. Keep fixing your ______...”

“This isn't a dagger. Its a _____. But I'd still stab someone with it.”

*Opens my chastity belt.*

“You know its actually kinda romantic down here---no its not.”

“I transcended the ban like a boss.”

“YOU'RE STILL BANNED, [NAME].”

“GET VORED BY THE STATUE.”

“WE ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS.”

“I really hope I get that job so I can buy that shirt that says [_______] I've been wanting.”

“No, the part with the ice caves, before you meet Furry McFuckgoat.”

“While that is a very metal fucking way to die -- it also seems extremely uncomfortable.”

“I was surprised there wasn't anything supernatural... or weird. I mean besides the exploding mummies.”

“WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THOSE GOLEM POSERS.”

“What a dick! Making me throw that grenade without meaning to!”

“You know I just shot him... a clip full... in the dick. I didn't mean to but... it happened.” ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Have a grenade.”

“Yeah you're not allowed up here. You have a ______. We don't serve your kind here.”

“New user -- who dis”

“I might regret this decision later.”

“[Name], please, stop playing peek-a-boo.”

“That dead guy just... waves goodbye as he ragdolls.”

“I HAVE REGRETS.”

“You know what, just as well. I have regrets. I didn't mean to throw that grenade.”

“PANICKING. PANICKING.”

“THINK YOU'RE FUCKING FANCY WITH YOUR ROLLING?”

“Okay that guy was defying gravity for a while there, that was kinda weird.”

“YOU'RE NOT FANCY-- Oh my god he twirled.”

“I FOUND WHAT I WANT.” *runs*

“REGRETS. Aaaah, regrets. A lot of regrets.”

“That death twitch... as seen on Twitch TV.”

“Little man, compensating much.”

“Right in the Shnoz.”

“ZIG ZAG, ZIG ZAG.”

“I DON'T THINK ZIG ZAG WORKS WITH MILITARY RPGS.”

“Make-up still on point. Hair still flawless.”

“LAMINATE YOUR FUCKING MAP. ITS RAINING. IS THAT MAP EVEN RELIABLE AT THIS POINT.”

“Where would you laminate a map in ______? What do you think there's a Kinkos around the corner?

“GOD IDK, BUT PUT IT IN SOMETHING MORE WATERPROOF THAN YOUR ASS POCKET.”

“Oh man that is the best twirl I have ever seen.”

“Fab. He practiced.”

“I just had to process Impressed because I heard it as Imp Breasts.”

“Drama queen. Fucking clutching his chest to die. Just ragdoll like everyone else.”

“Hey, what has more brains than the gunmen right now? The wall behind them.”

"[that didn't attract too much attention] YOU RAN A TRAIN THROUGH A BUILDING.”

“I am just a soggy man.”

“I have water logged fingers.”

“Yeah. YEAH. I forgot about these actually. Ah... ha ha... I forgot about these...” *cries*

“Her tits are always bigger from the side. The fuck is with that. They never the same size either. Watch. Watch them titties grow.”

“All Aboard the Pain Train.”

“Push your ass off the train-- BYE.”

“REALLY. YOU-- who has the strength of a shit ton of fucking monkeys... can't kick that through?”

“My heart just did A Thing at being called [they].”

“I never actually see the scenery on this train because I'm always dying.”

“BANE OF MY EXISTENCE RIGHT HERE. Guess my streak of Not Dying is gonna end right here.”

“AAH I ALMOST DIED-- I almost died there too.”

“SPLAT.”

“Railroaded.”

“Oh, I'm gonna have to fight a big guy. I really-- please don't make me fight a big guy.”

“Damn he thicc.”

“Here, its a present~” *throws a grenade*

“I think they want a receipt for their present so they can return it.”

“Bye-- I think that was a dick shot.”

“I love the sound of glass breaking.”

“I missed...” *tsk* “That's a problem.”

“Hey. For stress relief, fling yourself. Right there. To the left.”

“LAAAAAAAAUNCH.”

“Just fucking launch into oblivion for stress relief.”

“I just ate someone else’s half eaten burger like the trash goblin I am.”

“I am both mildly disgusted with myself and yet satisfied because it was a good burger.”

“Oblivion is to the left. Just launch into it. Embrace it. Fly like the majestic fucking eagle you are.”

*singing* “Life... hates me. I hate life.”

“Did he just die crab walking.”

“Died doing what he loved. Being a crab. Snip snap.”

“Am I the only one here who sees perfect opportunities to fling myself off a cliff and actually does it?”

*whimpers* “WELLIguessitwasallfornothingbecausenowIhavetodiebecausethisasshole--”

“That's the sound of when you get your ass shredded.”

“Good lord--”

“Shredded Wheat [name]s.”

“I hope if I ever die by gun, its to one of those. I wanna look and feel like swiss cheese.”

“You gonna one-punch fuck me like jason borne?”

“ONE PAAAUUUUUUUUNCH.”

“FUCK I got stuck in the wall...”

“HOW THICK THAT DUDES ARMS ARE.”

“STAY AWAY FROM ME I was trying to get away from you.”

“That cat is looking at me like [Why are you yelling so much?]”

“Man you eat more bullets than dogs in Resident Evil.”

“Fuck my life, Terminator.”

“That's not his liver...”

“That's totally his liver.”

“Well that's what you get for not paying for your train ticket.”

“Train stops here.”

“Guess they got... sidetracked.”

“You could say he's got a one-track mind.”

“You could say its been derailed.”

“I don't think this is the best train of thought for this situation.”

"I think I can, I think I can...”

“YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE, SNEAKING UP ON ME LIKE THAT.”

“I hope I took them out wiTH MY DEATH.”

“Fucking gave him a sliding icy nut shot.”

“Packed some powder onto those donut holes.”

“I didn't say I was coming naked to this place.”

“Just barrel roll over a fucking corpse it coo'l.”

“Where do these fuckers get grenades at like... they need to shove their grenades up their ass.”

“I don't know what the fuck you think you saw but it wasn't me.”

*Hands you voreos*

“Get out of here with your voreos.”

[regrettablewritings]

All the Write Words, Pt.III (Library AU!Vladimir Ranskahov x Reader)

A/N: I’m gonna be real, this is just total juvenile cheesecake because even at my age, I have the sense of humor of a baby. And let’s be real, this was bound to happen at some point. This is a Vladimir fic after all . . .

Prologue Part I Part II Part IV Part V

For the first time in a long while, Vladimir Ranskahov’s life had a schedule: Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and every other Saturday, he was to be dropped off at the S. Lee Public Library from 10:45 AM to 1:30 PM. After every shift and on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he typically would resume his previous work at his and Anatoly’s taxi garage. On Sundays and nearly every single night when he figured he could manage, time was put aside for downing copious amounts of vodka and drunkenly praying to God that this bullshit would end soon.

If not for his upbringing by a God-fearing born-again woman, Vladimir’s belief in a higher power would have died completely the moment he realized the ordeal wasn’t disappearing any faster than it could have been. However, it made no sense to disbelieve in a god when every other day he had to face the Devil.

The Bible had it all wrong. The Devil was not called Lucifer or Satan, and he wasn’t red with horns or anything of that nature. Instead, he was much less predictable: He was a she. And her name was (Y/N). And she was not red and with horns, but brown and small (thought she might have horns lying beneath that bushel of curls, Vladimir suspected). And her domain wasn’t an infernal pit of whips and organ-pecking birds so much as it was a homey little den of a library (still, there was much suffering, it was just relative). And there weren’t any torture devices like spears and daggers and racks so much as there were plenty of books and ridiculous words and references that could make a man feel insignificant all the same.

Or the damn alphabet chart she kept using during their little lessons in the faculty lounge. It was definitely plucked from the children’s learning corner, and it was definitely humiliating that he was being taught pronunciation association with it. C’s cat and F’s fox mocked him with their cartoonish faces. He swore he could hear D’s toothy donkey wheeze with laughter.

Maybe they were (Y/N)’s little demon accomplices? Maybe he himself was so weak that they needn’t resume an actual three-dimensional form to torture and berate him? The thought would make Vladimir shake his head furiously and toss the shot glass to the side, going full-on swig with whatever remained in the vodka bottle he’d nicked from Anatoly’s wine rack. Christianity had gotten one thing right about her, though: She had soul-sucking eyes that could make you feel quiet and nude. Especially when she was certain she could gain an upper-hand. Which, with Vladimir, almost always seemed to be the case somehow.

Vladimir stared blankly at the book in the center of the table, part-because its original cover had been so mangled that at some point it’d been given a new “jacket” made out of folded paper and marker, and part-because with what little English he could read, there was oneword  on that book cover that stood out to him the most. He’d seen it graffitied on the cell walls, heard it uttered a million times more, even said it himself plenty of times if the situation suited it. Enough to identify it by sound and connect it to the letters.

Fun with Dick and Jane.

Was he going to read/look at a porno? Vladimir fought to keep from smirking. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Sip. Oh. Wait.           

“Well, I see that childish humor transcends all languages.” And already, today was back it being normal. Vladimir flashed (Y/N) a reproachful look. She sat on the other side of the round lounge table per unspoken request, wearing yet another baggy sweatshirt that ended practically midway down her thighs and was altogether swallowing her short form up. She should’ve been more than warm in that suffocating getup, but she still insisted upon helping herself to a Styrofoam cup of hot Swiss Miss. She also insisted that she coyly sip from said cup for what seemed like every ten seconds of silence.

“You can try to hide that smirk all you want but the proof is in the pudding, puddin’: you’re all giddy about that Dick.” Proud of her little joke, (Y/N) smiled into her cup. The roundness of her cheeks were still visible. Vladimir quickly tried to change the subject before he slapped that cup out of her hands in a childish revenge fashion.

“What sense does it make that I read this when I can barely write?” he questioned. It was a fair point: how could be possibly read when he didn’t understand what composed the words before him?!

(Y/N) pursed her lips in thought. “Weelll . . .” she dragged, tapping her fingers against the side of the cup. “To tell you the truth, I’ve actually never really taught before . . .” Her cheeks turned rosy slightly, and Vladimir knew instantly that was it wasn’t because of the Swiss Miss. Her tone indicated a sudden realization of the gravity of this task. Maybe it’d prove to be too heavy for her and she’d just give up, sign the papers, and set him loose? Vladimir hoped so.

But all at the same time, there was a small part of him, one he didn’t want to acknowledge too greatly, that wanted her to remain persistent. Just to see where and how far this all would go.

“B-but I have younger siblings, and I read to them occasionally. So . . . so I figured that if I tried reading some basic words to you, you’d begin to connect words to writing. Or at least get more enthusiastic . . .” She shyly played with one of her many curls, suddenly gaining an interest in the image of her Styrofoam cup. She bit at her lip slightly, repressing only a fragment of the smile that was beginning to grow on her face. “I guess I could be on the right track, though.” She glanced up at the rugged Russian. “After all, you could read ‘Dick.’”

A hiss of irritability escaped from Vladimir’s flared nostrils but nothing else. She had a point, as pissed as he was to find himself understanding and agreeing. He glanced back down at Fun with Dick and Jane with its printer paper makeshift cover. What the hell, his mind finally gave in. Jane was having fun with a dick, so maybe this wouldn’t be so bad . . .

“’See Jack laugh?’” A painted illustration of some nancy boy laughing at a clown on a clunky old TV set. “’See Jane play? Jane plays with the doll.’” A little blonde girl swearing a frilly blue dress, playing with a raggedy old doll that his mother probably wouldn’t want. “’Dick is running. Run, Dick, run!’”

Yeah, you dick: Run away for fooling me, Vladimir wanted to say. This was pure torture: Having the poofy-haired Devil read to him – and at such a slow-ass pace! (Y/N), at the very least, seemed to be enjoying herself in some way. Well, that’s what the tight smile plastered across her face had initially said. But about midway through, Vladimir began to suspect that it was because she, too, might be embarrassed by the childish display. 

. . . Or maybe because there was something rather odd about having to constantly utter the word “Dick” in front of a guy with whom she was not involved with nor even on friendly terms. Either way, it managed to create a small sense of victory for Vladimir; the torturer suffering alongside the tortured. Beautiful.

Why should he care about the daily activities of Jane? Or that Spot the dog and Puff the cat liked to play? Or – aw, hell, who the hell is Pam and why is she being brought into the cast seventeen pages into this travesty?!

When (Y/N) began to talk about how Sally was “funny Sally, funny, funny Sally”, a knock came from the threshold. Vladimir’s relief was almost immediately run over by embarrassment as a certain pudgy young man appeared to have walked in on their little lesson.

“Uh, hope I’m not interrupting anything major,” Foggy said from the doorway. “But that one guy? Mr. Wesley? Yeah, he’s here for those language books but we’re having trouble locating the one on Mandarin.”

“Oh, really? Okay, hold on, I’ll be right out,” (Y/N) offered. The slight eagerness in her voice indicated that she was just as excited to stop reading the bore-fest. As she followed Foggy out to the front desk, she called back, “Few-minute break, my little big pupil! Hang tight, I’ll be right back.” Vladimir nearly broke his phone with how fast and frustratingly he whipped it out of his pocket. Immediately, he set to dialing one of the very few numbers he had.

“You should not be calling,” Anatoly greeted after the third ring. Before he could say anything more, Vladimir interrupted, his Russian becoming more like gibberish. “Brother, you have signed me up for sick torture. This -- this witch has me sitting here listening to her read about Jane and Dick and –”

“Zaderzhat, zaderzhat– khuy?! You are reading porn?!” Anatoly demanded. Judging by the harsh whisper he’d delivered the sentence in, it was safe for Vladimir to assume that he was in the garage surrounded by the employees. Vladimir opened his mouth to clarify but the elder Ranskahov went on. “What the hell are you reading porn in a goddamn library, you mudak?! I send you to make you better person, not to be like some horny teenage boy!”

“No, you idiot, listen! I – ”

“Volodya, I understand if last two years in jail were rough on you – urges is -- is normal. But just because it is so long, does not mean you go about letting your dick lead you like a dog on a leash. You are its owner, you control it. So stop hiding in back room and get to work!”

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me, you goddamn mudak!” Vladimir hissed. His pride had been severely wounded. How dare Anatoly assume he was stooping so low. Hell, how dare he assume he couldn’t just walk right out this library and get any! “Women is not problem for me! And to correct you, you idiot, is not porn, is a . . . a fucking book for children!”

“Ooohhh,” Anatoly muttered with slight relief. A beat occurred between them, with Vladimir too furious and embarrassed to say anything and Anatoly suddenly in thought.

“Why are you reading children’s book?” His voice broke the crisp silence. A flurry of emotions and thoughts banged against the walls of Vladimir’s skull. Like hell Anatoly was going to find it out now!           

“Okay, I’m back,” (Y/N) said as she returned into the room. At that moment, Vladimir considered the little devil an angel. But just for a second. He quickly hung up on his brother without offering him an explanation and shoved the phone back into his pocket, his usual glare holding in place. “Sorry for the holdup,” the young woman said as she grabbed another cup from the counter. She was making yet another cup of Swiss Miss.

“Mr. Wesley is a man with some rather . . . high . . . expectations. He’s a bit of a butt if you don’t put things a certain way, though . . . Oh, well,” she sighed. But her words fell on deaf ears for Vladimir. As did her continued narration of yet another Dick and Jane segment. To be perfectly honest, Vladimir had bigger, better things going on in his mind. Like how his own flesh and blood had the audacity to accuse him of being like a hormonal plebian.

He was a grown-ass man, he was more than capable of controlling his hormones! So what if he hadn’t gotten any kind of anything in a while? . . . A rather long while . . . Vladimir unconsciously furrowed his brows in thought. How long had it been precisely?

“Ow! Dammit!” The little curse yanked Vladimir back into the world of reality. In reality, (Y/N) had spilled a majority of the hot Swiss Miss on to her baggy sweater. The large brown stain coupled with a hiss of minor pain caused (Y/N) to click her teeth with dismay. “Sorry ‘bout that, Vladimir, I was just – gimme a sec.” She said it as if Vladimir had actually made any attempts to help out with the situation. Mentally, the Russian scoffed as he took his seat once again. . . . Wait. When did he even get out of it?

(Y/N) sighed after further inspecting the damage the spill had caused. “It’s all damp and gross now . . .” she muttered, her shoulders slumping in defeat. It made Vladimir roll his eyes. Why did she care about it like a normal woman cares about actually fitting clothes? It was just a baggy, old sweater. Hell, it was probably just a burlap sack dyed a different color to hide just how rough it was. Silly peasants and their attachments to their trash. These thoughts rattled in Vladimir’s head, completely drowning out his previous mental documentation and the insults that had called for them.

Then he noticed (Y/N)’s arms disappearing from the sleeves of her sullied sweater. She began to do that all too familiar wriggle a person does when they were getting a shirt off. What the – ?

“Hope you don’t mind . . .” (Y/N)’s voice sounded bashful from behind the cloth as it covered her mouth. He could see her cheeks reddening as her face descended into the neck hole, the sweater completely swallowing her. “I – I just can’t wear something so damp. It’ll get chilly, I’m sorry if this comes off as unprofessional but – ” The rambling continued on as it normally did with (Y/N), muffled until the little woman emerged from the bottom of the jumper but the embarrassed blush of her face continued. Her brown eyes scurried to look anywhere but at her overgrown pupil. Had she looked up, she would’ve noticed a change in his demeanor.

Well. The Bible might have gotten one more thing right about the Devil: She could completely transform her impression by someone in the blink of an eye because damn was that sweater like a ragged snakeskin hiding a form like that. Maybe it was the way the black fitted t-shirt embraced the slopes of her curves. Maybe it was because without the low-hanging sweater, Vladimir could see that she had soft-looking thick thighs being hugged by comfortable jeans. Maybe he just liked how after the ordeal with removing the top, her hair had become a mess he had only ever seen after becoming very . . .  “playful” with a woman. … Or maybe he just liked the fact that now he could confirm that she had a nice perky-looking set of –

Konechno net! Vladimir scolded himself. You are not some simpleton brat who gets a hard-on at the mere sight of a shoulder!

It was irritating to say the least and it rang in his head even as (Y/N) carried on like normal, clearing her throat as she resumed her place in the book. It was distressing how much Vladimir was actually forcing himself to pay attention to the words she read, especially after being so insistent that he do otherwise not too long ago. But then ago, not too long ago, he wasn’t trying to not think about the last time he’d been with a woman. And not too long ago, (Y/N) the Devil had been wearing an unflattering sweater that made Vladimir certain she probably had the body of a deflated potato. And not too long ago, he was certain the book was mostly focusing on the antics of Pam or Sally . . .

“Dick is lonely. Poor, lonely Dick,” he heard his teacher utter. He was almost certain he heard a wave in her voice as she said it (almost like a laugh attempting to flutter out) but decided against that possibility. But he did notice that among other things, he sat up straighter and his eyes searched frantically for other stimuli. Something, anything to dull out the ridiculous and rather suggestive sentences he had to hear her utter, even the minor add-ins she made to soothe the laughter he swore wasn’t there.

“Dick wants to play. Dick goes to play with Jane.”

This is absurd. This is ridiculous –

“Jane wants to play with Dick as well. Hurray!”

Surely these damn Americans knew how filthy this all sounded!           

“Dick j-umps with happiness (Oh, God . . .).”

Focus! On that poster – shit, it’s in English. The fridge? How many dots are in the ceiling tiles?!

“‘Jump, Dick!’ says Sally (pfft!). Dick jumps high.”

Hell no, nothing down below was jumping, right? Nothing to get all jumpy down there about when you’re looking at – a toaster? Magnets? Napkins?! Hair? Her hair? All messy and curled against cheeks red from being flustered –

“Dick is b-big . . .”

Those curves that didn’t exist until now, that perfect handful set on her chest –

“Dick is bigger than Ja – I can’t do this!” Immediately, (Y/N) burst into what might have been the most juvenile laughter Vladimir had heard in a long time. Like a series of bubbles overflowing from her mouth, rampant and without any of the control or demure nature she’d appeared to have before. It was unsettling. “I – I’m zsorry, V-vladimir,” (Y/N) wheezed as she tried to pat the laughter back with gentle taps to her chest. “I dknow it’z childish but – but come on, it’z zso ridiculous!” Vladimir could only stare and fight off the feeling of gobbsmacked that he actually felt.

He had been brought back to reality by a thunderous laugh and yet he wasn’t sure how much of it was actually real.

“Shoot, man,” gasped (Y/N) when she’d finally managed to calm down. “I think I laughed myself a set of abs almost. Geez, I’m a child . . .” She shook her head. Vladimir was used to only her curls bouncing when she did this but with the sweater gone and her body still making minor heaves after such a laughing spell, he couldn’t help but notice some other things moving in a bouncy fashion as well. And he fucking hated that he noticed this. He also hated how when she laughed in that gross fashion, his face burned. What witchcraft was this freaking suka pulling?!

Knock-knock.

The two looked up to see Claire in the faculty lounge doorway. “Hey, (Y/N)? Yeah, a young man at the desk is asking about Arachnemania? That one book on spiders? I swear we have it somewhere but we can’t find it in our system, is there any way you could . . .?”           

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Thanks Claire,” (Y/N) turned to Vladimir. “Hang tight for a sec. When I come back, we can start on some workbook crap, a’ight?”

Vladimir nodded slowly. He had to remind himself to make his perpetual scowl at last minute. It didn’t last long, however, as when (Y/N) turned to leave, Vladimir’s eyes could help but slink downward on her body. Well. Apparently there were now two things Vladimir didn’t hate about his teacher from Hell. It took the end of his shift and his distance from them for him to realize in pure frustration that the little cheeky devil had turned the things he liked against him to get into a false sense of enjoyment.

[chasingbeetles]

got a full house (stayed up all night)

Ryou sets about reading tarot cards after school. He winds up with lovely spot by the burbling creek in the park, a steady stream of lovesick high school students and jaded salarymen, and one unfortunately persistent regular.

my @ygoexchange for @rukatofan! apologies for it being late, i tried to post it on airport internet and it doesn’t appear to have worked. i ended up picked mariku out of your list, by the way

i’ve been wanting to write this fic for fucking ages, and finally the stars aligned and our ygo exchange giftee gave us the perfect scenario. the cards used are from the traditional rider-waite, because i was too fucking frazzled to scan all of the cards needed from our decks (let alone pick one deck to use).

Handy AO3 link here  (though keep in mind that i’ve stuck to my own naming conventions for marik on AO3)

Ryou hadn’t been joking about the spray bottle.

This shouldn’t have come as a surprise, given that in their brief friendship (relationship? set of encounters? break from the never-ending ennui of eternal damnation on this too-bright, too-loud, spinning blue marble?) Ryou had never bullshitted any of his many threats. Granted, they’ve ranged in both creativity and improbability, but Ryou had kept his word about each and every single one.

And yet, the blast of wet that catches Mariku between the eyes also catches him completely off-guard.

He has a brief moment of unspeakable rage, a throwback to what he’s been told is a really piss-poor way of handling things and expressing his feelings, and his hands twitch just the slightest, the curl of knuckles into the promise of a fist, before he thinks better of it and wipes the water from his face instead.

Ryou, of course, hasn’t even looked up—one hand is hovering over the makeshift tabletop of stacked textbooks and the other still on the trigger of the bottle, casually aimed right at Mariku even though Ryou fired blind. Mariku and the startled underclassman exchange glances while Ryou hums over his cards. The student clutches her bookbag a little tighter and there’s a joke to be made there, a soft tilt forward and the curl of his lip, not quite sneer, not quite menace but—but Ryou shakes the spray bottle, sloshes the water inside just enough for Mariku to hear it over the ringing in his head. Now that he’s sure his kohl is already running the threat’s not quite as potent but Ryou must know, because he finally looks up (at the school girl, not Mariku, not yet) and stretches his arms over his head. Mariku watches an errant drop of water fall into Ryou’s hair when he says, “I apologize for him. We haven’t got him civilized just yet, only just barely house-trained.”

Mariku’s voice is gravel and crunch and crack when he speaks (he doesn’t mean to do it no matter how much it does help his aesthetic, it’s just that he’s not got much need for talking lately, let alone people to talk to) and the girl flinches. He’s seen Ryou rolls his eyes enough times to know he can do it so hard that you see nothing but the whites for a solid second but it fascinates Mariku every time; he knows the accompanying huff and sigh like the back of his hand. If he’s lucky, if he comes on time, Mariku can stand in the exact place necessary to catch the setting sun on his bracelets and shine it right in Ryou’s eyes, and he does just that as he says, “That’s hardly fair. I only chewed your slippers once.”

The girl, poor confused, terrified thing, cracks the smallest grin. Ryou doesn’t. Mariku scowls. Ryou stares at the cards, finally sets down the spray bottle in favor of flipping over them over instead. Mariku, gods help him, leans forward—he’s just as enthralled as the schoolgirl is, as half of Domino is, with this white-haired, wide-eyed boy, with his ratty blanket and his textbooks as a table and his fortunes. Yugi Mutou may very well be the King of Games, but Ryou Bakura makes his living with a very different sort of deck these days.

It’s a deck that happens to be Mariku’s least favorite, today. Ryou’s explained time and again that this is the standard, the world’s most popular version, but that holds very little sway with Mariku. Ryou has at least a dozen, perhaps even over twenty, stuffed in his backpack and propping up or resting on priceless artifacts in the Domino Museum warehouse, all nicer than these stale pictures and scratchy cardstock that drags against Mariku’s fingertips the few, few times Ryou’s let him touch. He’s using only the named cards today—the Major Arcana, Ryou hisses once, head in Mariku’s lap as he tries to see how long Ryou’s bangs will stay upright (it earns him a solid slap, but the record stands at seven seconds)—one of Ryou’s simpler, cheaper readings.

After a long moment, Ryou leans back with a sigh. He doesn’t smile. Both Mariku and the student watch his face, though probably for very different reasons. It marvels Mariku, this strange sort of mercy that Ryou has, where bad news comes with a smile but when—

When the news is good, Ryou leans back with a sigh, claps his hands together, and says, “Well.” His finger (long, slim, such a nice snap, Mariku’s sure, if he were to break it) hovers over the first card. “Let’s begin.”

Mariku takes a seat on the edge of the blanket, settles in for the long haul—depending on how much she’s paid, this could take nearly an hour. His foot ends up poking Ryou in the thigh and there’s a tiny, tiny twitch just under Ryou’s right eye that makes Mariku practically giddy.

The girl leans too far forward, blocks Mariku’s view of the cards entirely, so he flops back into the grass, more than content to let Ryou do the explaining. “Achievement and success are on their way to you,” he’s started, practiced cadence a perfect middle ground between Isis’ prescient confidence and the flair that Mariku remembers Rishid having, honed from endless nights of the same old bedtime story, “I would say to expect a promotion or some sort of status, but I think it’s far more likely your bout of poor luck will soon be over. Especially given the man—your father or a teacher, perhaps—who’ll lend you his support.” Mariku cracks an eye open just in time to see Ryou shrug. “You know who I’m talking about.”

The girl nods along, smiles and ducks her head in all the right places. Mariku likes these customers best, who keep their mouths shut, let him listen to Ryou speak. A hand closes around the foot he’s been absently tapping on Ryou’s thigh, slinks down to Mariku’s ankle where Ryou taps an absent rhythm as he hums over the reading.

“This man,” Ryou says, “is someone you can trust. You respect him, and it would be in your best interest to get his advice. Especially,” here he looks up, the consummate psychic, the transcendent diviner (Mariku’s heard this act a dozen times, memorized it down to the curl in the corners of Ryou’s lips), smiles at his customer, puts her at ease, “especially since you’re so afraid that things are going to get worse.” The schoolgirl flinches. Ryou’s nail clicks against the card. “This one here? The Wheel? Your luck is changing, Keiko, the wheel is turning. You just need to trust your own intuition this time, instead of whoever tricked you the last time. They have to go—you’ll be better for it, and justice will be done.” The hand on Mariku’s ankle slips away as Ryou leans back on his hand, fingers curling in the grass, finally smiling. “Does that make sense to you?”

It does, Keiko assure him, them, scrambling for her things and brushing grass from her stockings and not quite meeting anyone’s eyes as she smiles and waves and heads on her merry way. Mariku slinks up to take her seat before Ryou can pack up his things. He scoops up the cards, ignores Ryou’s scowl, and shuffles through them. “What does this one mean?” he asks, picking a card. They’re all in English but this card, with the crowned man all in red, scepter in hand, seems important.

Ryou frowns and props his chin in his hand, looks terribly put out even though they both know Ryou could talk about this for hours. “The Hierophant—a high priest,” he explains, sees the question on Mariku’s face before he can even ask, “means conformity, institutions, a counsellor.” He smirks. “Or alliances. Servitude.”

Something roils sour in Mariku’s gut and the card in his hand seems much more sinister between his fingers. “How apt.”

Ryou grins crooked and wide. “And that’s only the upright side.”

“Upright?”

“Flipped upside down, it means rebellion. Questioning traditions.” Ryou pulls Mariku’s foot onto his lap, fingers pressing into the sore spots. He ducks his head to hide his chuckle, spits Mariku’s words back at him. “How apt.”

Mariku slides all six cards back into the deck and Ryou takes it from him. Mariku stands, hovers over Ryou as he packs up his books and shoves the old blanket in his backpack and doesn’t step away when Ryou finally straightens. Ryou arches an eyebrow and glances him up and down, a foot apart, and says, “Don’t follow me home.”

“I want to see where you live.”

Ryou lets his breath hiss out from between his teeth and rolls his eyes. They’re standing so close Mariku can see every little vein. “Oh, I imagine it’s a lot like your home, four walls and a door and a laundry hamper—” Ryou pauses, considers what he’s saying and who he’s saying it to. “Where are you staying?”

Mariku shrugs. “You know that abandoned high school everyone keeps breaking into for fun?”

“Are you serious?”

He laughs. “Do you feel sorry for me?”

“Yes, but—” Ryou interrupts even though Mariku had only just opened his mouth. “Not enough to take you home with me.”

It had been worth the try. Mariku shrugs again, waves good-bye, heads down the road in the opposite direction. Doesn’t look back.

-

Ryou’s business is so good that he’s expanded to weekends, commandeering one of the chess tables further into the park for his readings (and if it happens to be the favorite table of a lanky, bespectacled, hoodie-wearing young man who bears absolutely zero resemblance to the CEO of KaibaCorp and his unbelievably short companion who can never quite squirrel away all of his unusual hair under a hat, Mariku keeps his goddamn mouth shut). His customers come endlessly, loitering at the other tables and standing just out of earshot and waiting waiting waiting for Ryou, for that hair and that face and those hands that Mariku doesn’t want to hold and break and kiss and bite not at all no no—

It’s another reading for another red-faced, middle-aged salaryman, cradling his broken arm against his chest and sitting straight-backed on the bench. Ryou glances at Mariku sitting just to his right—he’s become part and parcel to these readings, he thinks, or at least no customers are ever brave enough to ask why he’s there—reaches for his deck, the one Mariku has come to hate, and turns to his client. “Your name?”

The salaryman flinches. “Takahashi.”

“Your first name,” Ryou says, and the salaryman frowns at how unflustered Ryou is, how few fucks he gives about social niceties when they get in the way of his work, how if Mariku was feeling particularly (unhinged? unstable? unbalanced?) misty-eyed, he’d say it was something he loves about this silly little boy.

“Kazuki,” says his client and Ryou starts to shuffle. Ryou doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t tell them to pick a card, any card, just shuffles and shuffles and pulls the first six cards from the top, spreads them and flips them over.

Mariku hums under his breath and the salaryman’s eyes flick to him. Ryou pinches him under the tabletop and Mariku pinches him right back. “You’re feeling satisfied with your achievements,” Ryou starts, “and you’re about to reach a period of fulfilment. The outcome of your business deal with be fair and in your favor, but the help and support you need for that outcome will only come if you ask. Listen carefully to their advice and your own intuition.” He glances up at his client, smiles. “Even if it tells you difficult things. Even if you need to sacrifice—it will only turn out for the best, but don’t be hasty. Since you’ve been unwell, this is a time for rest and patience.”

The salaryman nods. Mariku yawns. Ryou asks, “Do you understand?”

The sun is casting long shadows across the table by the time Ryou’s clients finally run out and when he pauses to brush his bangs from his face, Mariku takes the cards from his hand. “Read my fortune.”

Ryou doesn’t even pretend to consider it. “No.”

“Why not?”

“What am I going to tell you that you don’t already know?”

“Let me read your fortune, then,” Mariku says, pulls six cards like he’s seen Ryou do, fanning them out across the cool cement table.

He hems and haws for a moment, waving his hands over the cards and generally making an ass out of himself until Ryou rests on calm, dangerous hand—a warning—on the table. Mariku clears his throat. “Your apartment building has structural issues. I would move. A man will appear from the sky to wake the dead and offer them medical assistance, but I’m not sure what that has to do with you. Watch out for him, I guess.” He cocks his head to the side, stares at the next few cards. “A naked woman will sneak into your house and pour all the water in your teapot down the toilet, and another woman in a strange hat will steal the moon and paint English letters on your walls. And your neighbor is going to get rousingly drunk almost light his place on fire, meaning you’ll get no sleep and dogs will keep you up all night with their barking.” Mariku looks up at Ryou, grins with all his teeth. “Was I close?”

There’s a wicked curve to Ryou’s lips and when he takes the cards from Mariku their fingers brush. “No,” Ryou says, cracking each knuckle under Mariku’s entranced eye, rolling his wrists and rearranging the spread to his liking. “Would you like to hear what it actually says?”

Oh, he would love nothing more. “Please.”

Ryou shrugs. “Catastrophic change. Surprises will not turn out the way you expect and new directions will be made apparent to you—to me,” he amends. Mariku wonders if he’s ever read the cards for himself before. “This will be what I wanted, a new start, though not entirely how I had hoped it would come about. The choices I make now will have far-reaching implications. I am,” he frowns, like the word is bitter in his mouth, “I am afraid that my hopes will be dashed, given the circumstances, but instead a gift will come my way. A new relationship, potentially travel. I will need to pay careful attention to my intuition as well.” His eyebrows shoot up for just long enough that Mariku thinks he may have a knack for this after all, turning cards and tables and all to watch the lovely, lovely gears in Ryou’s despicable, fragile head turn. “Someone, a man, isn’t quite who they seem. Trickery disguised as charm, and I must be sure he truly has my best intentions at heart. But I must trust my instincts, and open my mind to new and unexpected possibilities.”

“That,” Mariku purrs, “is quite the fortune.”

Ryou leans back against the bench. “It is.”

They’re quiet for a long moment until Ryou finally moves, picking up his cards and folding the pillowcase he read them on and shrugging on his jacket. Mariku watches him, head in his hands, lazy smile and half-closed eyes. “Feel sorry enough to let me in your bed tonight?”

Mariku winks when he says it and Ryou’s eyes roll so far back in his head that somewhere, a Catholic priest gets the chills. He pauses, deck halfway in its case and pulls one card.

Ryou arches an eyebrow, slips the card and its deck back in his backpack. When Mariku stands, Ryou hooks an arm through his. “No,” he replies, but laughs when Mariku scowls. “But,” he says, makes Mariku’s hair stand on end, “I think sorry enough to buy you a drink.”

[37thknight]

okay, so i’m borderline cross with this whole ordeal so here’s my take on it

Y’ALL LIKE JUICY ANALYSIS, RIGHT? 

this “jeonlous mouth thing” have been around for sometime now and i dont honestly get the negative feedback people are starting to impose on its name these days ????? 

shipping in general, as much as it leaves so much of a bad taste in our mouths and as much as i hate to admit it myself, is run by the delusional (read: responsible for delusion) cogs in our minds, lubricated by the teeny-tiniest details of the pairing’s words, actions, quirks and personalities to fulfill our wild desires to prove “TRUST ME, THEY’RE BANGING EACH OTHER ” and to act as supporting evidences to back-up this “constructed reality” of what we want them to be.

the thing with jikook // koomin otp, as most other kpop pairings are, is that they’re members of the same group or band or whatever you want to classify BTS as. one way or another, they’re bound to have a relationship, may it be purely for their careers (a business relationship, as described by SHINee’s Jonghyun in one of their Happy Together guestings) or an established platonic one, heightened by the difficulties they’ve dealt with and the feats they’ve achieved as a group. 

from this, we can branch out to a ton of “stuff” for a lack of better word, and i can only discuss (read: rant) so much

EXHIBIT A

bts members are friends more than co-workers and we are very much aware of that, as opposed to those groups with their contracts sufficing as the adhesive to weave each other together (c’mon, this is not a shade). i dont know about you but in a squad (a group of friends rather, if you don’t like seeing that word), it’s most probably mapped out that as humans, we’ll be drawn particularly to one of them; hence, the best friend phenomenon. 

so...are they best friends? well, there’s still taehyung in the equation and there’s no way we can dismiss him like that. (side remark here: the three of them can just be each other’s best friends, you know? im aware that this is an actual, real life thing that happens to other people...but i’ve been in that circumstance and it’ll be hard juggling your attention and love equally that it's more deteriorating than beneficial to all ends) now, taking into consideration how much emphasis the whole korean culture put into respect and age, the maknae line just transcends through all that , BUT

1. jimin and taehyung are close (even regarding each other as soulmates in one of their recent fanmeetings) esp because of the fact that they’re of the same age, meaning, the level of comfort with each other is as much as korean society expects them to have. they’re not just “comfortable” brothers more than chingus though, they’re that comfortable with each other it’s beyond classifications (like there are classifications, but you get the point).

2. maknaes are very much endeared in the whole korean “age-and-respect-and-authority-and-hierarchy” landscape (can it even be called that?). jimin has shown how much he cherishes jungkook even tracing back to their predebut days up until now, successfully fulfilling the role of hyungs in korean standard whose role among many others is to take care of those younger than they are. other members also treat jungkook fairly similar or sometimes even topping jimin’s treatment to the maknae aka taehyung, whose life source is probably skinship + aegyo with other members (we’ll get to that) and the whole reason im confused who’s whose when it comes to this best friend thing 

3. still in the korean view of age, you address those older than you with respect by how? c’mon, we’re all nuts about kpop how must we not know? there’s oppa, unnie, hyung and noona (this addressing thing is more of an asian thing than mere korean, really). now, here’s the catch: jungkook calls jimin hyung borderline merely (read: close to the bare minimum). a mere slip-up? a moment of the perfect mask idols need to sport, carelessly put aside? more than anything, it just fuels the fire in this situation. jungkook addresses his other hyungs with the names they need to be called, even taehyung he’s very close with. and this just show that jungkook considers jimin a chingu, one he can comfortably act towards, (just like jimin and taehyung’s relationship, being the actual chingus here) despite the apparent age difference.

i dont know if i’ve gotten to anything at this point, but i’m lenient to the concept of jimin and jungkook being the best friends which explains most of the things they do together which leads us to:

EXHIBIT B 

skinship between friends, more specifically friends belonging to the same sex (gender’s a bit more complicated concept, you guys), is the most normal thing in korea. they probably are most expressive with each other to the point that it baffles foreign onlookers, a good example of which are the int’l fans.

remember what i said about taehyung? all males in korea are practically like him, even stemming from young age, being touchy-feely here and there with friends.now, ever wondered why apparently jikook is not a huge, blown out of proportion ship in korea as opposed to its stance in the international fanbase? yup, that’s because for koreans, seeing jimin and jungkook’s interaction with each other is like seeing the average same sex chingus walking downtown or their buddies at school as they do everyday. holding hands, feeling each other up, sitting on laps, pecks on the cheek (less observed), and even touching thighs, crossing the boundaries of what foreigners would deem appropriate, is common and normal (have i made my point about this issue yet? i’ve become a broken record,my goodness).basically, there is no such thing as personal space in korean culture of friends; thus, skinship is prevalent.

a very much related issue to that is korea’s view on homosexuality. no matter how peppered with the stereotypical gay (not meant to be taken offensively, guys im also a queer folk hi) interactions and copious displays of affection korea is, homophobia is still present. it’s too ridiculous that it’s become funny. you can tell me how korea has become liberated and all that shit but the thing is, they’re not. korea is just downright a conservative country (is this an offense too? oh god). korea is still anchored to the concept that people are only and only and only limited to a man-loving woman and woman-loving man. topmost reason why idols cannot come out and identify as different from the two because to deviate from the norm is supposedly throwing away tradition and rude and can spite everyone around them that they’ll lose their job.

i dont know where im going but i still am in check of what im talking about. bottomline of this exhibit is holding onto the contradicting persona of korea, jikook is all but nothing more (this is proper grammar, you guys) than a thing of delusion.

EXHIBIT C

kpop idols love to treat their fans and bts is not a loser in the game. they give back quite warmly to the fans. they deem armys highly because, nonverbatim, bts is nothing without their fans. fans are the reason among others (to dismiss their hardwork is plain rude) why they’ve made it this big. so they’ve got fanservice in store for us, the majestic element of them all, leaving us in a baffled rut whether or not our otp’s interaction are candid or sheer fanservice. THEY ALL KNOW THAT THEY’RE PAIRED WITH EACH OTHER. a gift for the fans? publicity stunts to gain the favor of their audience? whatever meaning fanservices hold in the hearts of our dear bts members, it just ups the notch of the level of our delusion when it comes to our ships 

(it’s heartbreaking, i know. i didn’t even want to write this part out. if you can just sense my unwillingness to write on the matter ㅠㅠ)

EXHIBIT D

let’s go back to what actually irked me and cross me so much that it driven me nuts to the point that i actually spend my time writing this long ass rant. 

“jeonlous” = a jealous jeon jungkook

now, this has gathered a negative connotation primarily but is not limited to two things:

a. “this jeonlous thing manifests a relationship with an abusive undertone” (okay, so i constructed that sentence to make their claims much more rational than it fucking is)

b. it does not make sense for jungkook (and even jimin) to get jealous of other members/fans/other people not them in general

firstly, what does it mean to be JEALOUS (can you see my eyes rolling?)

in the evolutionary, biological scale, is the exhibited response to the threats to the relationship they are in because monogamy that’s why (a reality that’s manifested almost throughout all the animal kingdom) 

in psychology, is the complex emotion that’s not just about anger, abandonment, fear or sadness; it’s the simmer that’s aroused when a valued relationship is somehow not in its standard state and there is raw desire to regain the affection and/or attention. it’s even described as “a necessary emotion because it preserves social bonds. it motivates people to engage in behaviors that maintain an important relationship.” a clinical psychologist characterizes jealousy as something we don’t have much control over, and that it is a natural, instinctive emotion that everyone experiences at one point in their lives. 

it just follows that when jealousy is at hand, people tend to do things that has become seemingly second nature tics to them. now, this is a good reason to back up the jeonlous mouth/tongue thing, how much of a mere coincidence it may be. jealousy is not bound to romantic tones; it can encompass siblings fighting for their parents’ attention or even in friendships. so that’s a yes, yup, jungkook can get jealous of other members because he has that valued relationship (refer to exhibit a) with jimin and there will be a lingering longing in him for jimin to get back at being jimin again (read: showing him affection and attention; emphasis on him) 

don’t get me started at this abusive, emotionally manipulative relationship issue here because it’s just absurd and this rant will be longer than my lifespan i dont even know anymore (ok but the insecurity that is woven in the ambiguity of jealousy may also be responsible in driving someone to emotionally manipulate his partner to the point of abuse BUT JK JUST WANTS JIMIN’S ATTENTION BACK SO WHAT’S ABUSIVE HERE calling this whole ordeal abusive is too much of a stretch like really? really? y’all are actually taking this into consideration? really?)

(okay this rant had high hopes in presenting evidences to support my claims but i havent slept a wink yet and im also half angry ????)

the thing is, as much as we’re delusional in shipping jikook, y’all are just delusional claiming that the fucking quirk jungkook exhibits is abusive WHAT DO WE EVEN KNOW ABOUT WHAT THEIR ACTUAL STATUS IS IN THE FIRST PLACE goodbye y’all im just im--ugh this is so dumb

you wanna know the catch about this jeonlous thing that gets me every single time? IT’S THAT IT’S FUCKING CUTE. AND I’M SHIPPING THEM TO MY PLEASURE THAT IT GIVES ME JOY TO SEE THESE MOMENTS WHICH GIVES ME LITTLE SPARKS OF HOPE THAT MAYBE THEY’RE MORE THAN FRIENDS YEAH I KNOW IM DELUSIONAL BUT MOSTLY BECAUSE IT’S CUTE and that’s good enough reason for me to fawn over their “supposed” romance 

y’all are hypocrites enjoying the jeonlous thing one second then next second, condemning it after reading a post and riding the mainstream. Y’ALL NEED TO SIT THE FUCK DOWN (also reevaluate the hypocrisy but oh well)