#and every single group who played a part in death and deaths like his should be charged

[andresmounts2]

The death of Nex & queer people like him scares me.

It scares me because that could've been me.

It scares me because that could've been my friends.

And it scares me even more knowing that if I knew him, we probably could've been friends.

He deserved to live.

He deserved to live to 17.

He deserved to graduate high school.

He deserved to grow up and accomplish things.

And now that he's gone, he deserves to have the full truth told about his death.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Emergency Protocols: To Preserve A Legacy

Optimus Prime has fallen, and now everyone must deal with the after effects of his sudden and horrific death. Knockout, unlike the rest of the Decepticons, has taken grim inspiration from the loss.

Part 1 here.

(Warning for robogore)

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“This is an order! Every mech will travel in a group until further notice!” Megatron’s order rang out on the bridge, earning frantic nods of understanding from every single Vehicon present. Starscream in particular seemed keen to obey an order for once and almost instantly grabbed a few Vehicons to stay by his side.

Knockout watched quietly, his optics never once leaving the screen above Megatron’s helm.

“I don’t care what you are doing or what your orders are. If I catch anyone alone, there will be consequences.” Megatron all but growled as he glared down at every one of his soldiers. Knockout’s optics cycled in quiet interest at the sight, but he refused to look away from the screen and the beginnings of grotesque suffering playing on it.

“The Autobots have begun to fall. We cannot risk such a fate ourselves.” The warlord’s words were frighteningly shaky as a video played on screen. It was a recording obviously taken by Soundwave, or perhaps Laserbeak. Whatever the case, it projected a scene of true horror.

Optimus Prime wailed in agony, his frame tearing itself apart as buds began to form all over him. One on each limb, and two great ones on his chassis and jetpack. He tore himself to pieces, ripping off armor and frantically screeching as his frame cannibilized itself to produce six new lives. That was a new record, at least in modern documentation. The largest recorded budding only produced five newbuilds. How very Optimus of him.

“Prime succumbed, and if a mech as mighty as him fell, any one of us is just as likely to suffer a similar end.” The recording zoomed in on Optimus’s expression of sheer agony as he tried to crawl on mutilated limbs. If things were different, Knockout might have gagged as he watched the Prime convulse, wheeze, and then fall still while whatever remained of him was consumed by his unwanted offspring.

As it was, Knockout found himself more intrigued than afraid, especially as the recording showed the six that came from the fallen Prime. Five of them were flight frames, an incredible oddity considering Optimus was, up until his reforging, a grounder. The sixth was the one that really caught his attention. The newbuild had Optimus’s structure, tapered waist, and overall build. But they had an interesting series of differences, a few of which felt vaguely familiar.

“Be wary! And never find yourselves alone! Until we can confirm that none of our number are liable to succumb to this brutality, this ship is on lockdown.” With a final wave of his servo, Megatron marched off, likely to hound Soundwave about something or other. The Vehicons filed off eventually, most huddled in groups of five or more to limit their fear. A few attempted to gather around Knockout, but he waved them off.

He didn’t want companionship. He had other plans.

Making his way back to the medical bay, Knockout quietly shut the door behind him and locked it. He settled at his console, tapping the device thoughtfully as he pulled up the recording of Optimus Prime’s final moments all over again. He really should have been disgusted or upset with what he was going to be seeing, but after so much loss, it was more interesting than anything else. Eventually, the Decepticons would have someone end up budding. After all, one budding meant that the situation was dire. Dire circumstances induced panic, and panic tended to make budding happen in other subjects even if their numbers were acceptable.

Stress was bound to get to them. After all, activation of the protocols needed for budding only required a deep sense of loneliness and isolation. If the crew felt that they were alone, those who were capable of budding were likely going to begin expiring one after another. The Vehicons would be fine, largely since they were the result of budding and cold forging. Empurata victims were incapable of budding since the entire section of their processor devoted to registering emotional distress was deactivated, so Shockwave would be fine. Beastformers tended to take longer to start budding, meaning that Arachnid would be alright on her own for a while. The same went for the Insecticons and the Predacons.

That left high command of both the Autobots and the Decepticons. Optimus had already keeled over, and considering how traumatic and sudden it was, Knockout didn’t doubt that someone else would follow after him. Probably Ratchet or the Prime’s unofficial ward. 

One by one, the shock and horror would get to all of them, regardless of faction.

They were well and truly slagged. Sooner or later, all the big players in the war would combust into several smaller and inexperienced idiots who would, inevitably, end the war at some point. Be it through extinction or peace, it wasn’t really important. Knockout personally had no desire to live in a world or on a restored Cybertron with a bunch of framewalkers who looked far too similar to old friends and foes for his liking. It all seemed so pointless. 

He was tired. That was the only way he had to describe the sheer apathy burning in his spark. Breakdown, his other half, was gone, taken by enemies who were now long dead and dispersed. There were no more victors to join, not when everyone would quickly be put on even ground once old grudges joined their holders in the grave. There was no point to all of it anymore. What did he have to gain from trudging ever onward? A restored homeworld? Sure, that might be nice for a grand total of five kliks, but it wouldn’t be the same without proper closure or Breakdown.

“If we’re all doomed anyway, we might as well make the most of it.” He grumbled, taking great care to not rub his face and ruin the polish, even though exhaustion weighed on him. They were all going down, so why not try and make it somewhat meaningful? Budding was a process that had not been properly studied since the Quintessons ruled. It either happened in private or it was so sudden that no real documentation could be made. Case point: Optimus’s spontaneous and gruesome death.

If he was going to die, he wanted to leave something behind and perhaps even secure his legacy with something important.

“Show me what you’ve got, sweet rims.” He pressed play on the video, leaning back in his chair as he sighed and observed Optimus’s final moments. He had to watch it three or four times before he became desensitized enough to actually start making note of things of interest, but he got there after a few sessions of wretching into his disposal unit.

Optimus’s early symptoms began with itching and, from the looks of it, twitchyness and emotional turmoil. That seemed about right overall. Then it seemed that as the budding began, tearing off armor was an instinctual response meant to allow the buds to grow without hindrance. The spine tearing out of the back appeared to just be a side effect of one of the buds developing in that location, as bones and other skeletal structures also tore free where buds developed on the Prime’s body. 

The malformation didn’t appear to be a necessary part of the process, but one that Optimus unfortunately endured due to the sheer number of buds on him. The buds themselves sucked protomatter right out of their host by liquidizing the host’s internals. A lot was lost, as evidenced by Optimus quite literally being dismeboweled via his innards turning to goo and oozing out of him. Frankly, it seemed that the process was largely streamlined. Optimus was just an unfortunate victim of Primely fertility.

If he were back on Cybertron, he might have broken the record again by producing more due to his increased mass prior to their arrival on the mudball they currently called their battlefield.

“Noted. More buds equals more pain.” He tapped the console methodically, watching again and again as Optimus wailed and endured a fate far worse than most other forms of death. Knockout took notes meticulously, observing with silent interest as he watched the buds develop over and over again. The biggest of the lot caught his attention more than the others. That one was obviously a powerhouse in the making, having Optimus’s overall frame structure. But there was something about the new build—something unique.

Once he recorded everything he could from the video, Knockout turned to the database. His digits flew across the keys until he pulled up Optimus’s record. A few passwords later, and he was looking at sensitive data that was only tenuiously confirmed. The Prime’s history in the archives, embarrassing and noteworthy developmental milestones, but most importantly, his relationships.

Optimus only had one confirmed romantic partner. The depth of their relationship was not recorded, but there were enough indicators of a spark merge having been involved for Knockout to feel fairly confident calling them Conjunxes. With that in mind, he pulled up the video again on his second screen, zooming in on the largest of the newbuilds hovering around Optimus’s battered corpse. 

He looked at Elita-One’s picture and then at the newbuild. The similarities were obvious. The frame shape, the kibble placement, even the newbuild’s optics. All of them were similar to Elita. Had the spark merged influenced the budding to produce a newbuild that possessed Optimus and Elita’s traits?

“A spark merge affecting a newbuild... it’s certainly not impossible.” He tapped the console with more frequency as he considered the possibilities. If all of high command was going to keel over, Knockout most likely included, why shouldn’t he research the process? Why shouldn’t he make the most of it? For Optimus and Elita to have produced a bud that carried both their traits after what might have only been a single spark merge...

He stood up sharply, his optics widened as he glanced over at the single piece of Breakdown’s armor he’d taken from the corpse as a keepsake. It sat innocently on his shelf, a reminder of the loss and now a symbol of possible hope.

“One merge. It only took them one merge.” He reached out to collect the piece of armor, a dark plan forming in the back of his processor. He didn’t necessarily want to die, but it was going to happen anyway. Sooner or later, he’d drop dead and spawn something that was but an echo of himself. Why not die on his own terms? He could study the process of budding and, if things worked out, preserve Breakdown’s legacy as well.

He’d keep his reputation as Cybertron’s finest medic through his research, and he’d be able to honor his fallen partner before joining him. It saved him from having to go on endlessly without the mech he loved most, and it meant that all his loose ends would be neatly tied up. He wouldn’t have to live in a world not his own with mecha mimicking the dead.

It would be painful, but he could limit that to a certain extent. 

"Well, Breakdown, it seems I’ll be seeing you soon enough.” A grin wormed its way onto Knockout’s features as he laughed and carried the piece of plating over to his workbench. There was much to do, and considering the panic amongst the crew, very little time.

“Lord Megatron, I’ll be performing a little analysis on some sensitive material over the course of the next deca-cycle or so. Don’t worry if I’m unavailable; my research will prove quite useful, I’m certain.” He sent his message to Megatron with quiet glee as he settled at his workbench. He had preparations to see to and he couldn’t afford an interruption. Not now.

“All alone now. It’s just us, Breakie.” Tapping the piece of plating, Knockout laughed again before gathering his determination to drop the piece into a vat. He placed the vat into one of his extractors and stepped back, looking over himself and his medical bay. While CNA was being extracted from Breakdown’s plating, Knockout could begin his real work.

He spent a whole cycle thinking through Optimus’s fate and preparing for every eventuality. He methodically, albeit with much chagrin, removed his outer armor. He would rather not endure the pain of ripping it all off in a frenzied madness and so opted to skip that step altogether. Once that was all removed, he began preparing various painkillers of different doses. Too much at one time might have a negative effect on himself or his spawn, so a gentle ramping up of the solution would be necessary. The finished solutions were left near the medical berth, ready to be used.

For good measure, he adjusted the straps on the medical berth to activate the moment he laid down and to deactivate once his vitals dropped beyond a certain threshold. He couldn’t risk the buds, not when they were going to be so vital to his goals.

“As much as I pride myself on my finish, I do think you’ll forgive me this once for not sporting the red you adored so much.” Knockout found himself laughing more and more in the quiet of his medical bay by just the second cycle of work. He had gone to great pains to continually keep himself from heading out for any reason, and so far it seemed to be working. He could feel a faint tingle underneath his plating.

He wasn’t quite sure if it was nerves getting to him or not, but as he handled a full vial of Breakdown’s CNA, he reassured himself of his goal. He was going to do this and document the whole affair.

This was fine. He was going to be fine. He wanted this. He’d get to see Breakdown again.

Right?

“Breakdown, I hope you aren’t going to be too upset. I’m doing this for both of us.” He spoke into the open air, quietly and with more than a little hesitance. It took all of his mental fortitude to keep it together when Megatron called him.

“Knockout, what in the Unmaker’s name are you doing?” The warlord’s glyphs were harsh and layered with over a dozen vaguely fearful undertones. Knockout would have grinned, but he couldn’t blame Megatron for being afraid. Optimus was dead. The Prime of Cybertron was not only gone, but the first to have perished. In a way, Knockout envied him. To be the first meant Optimus didn’t have to watch everyone crumble around him.

“Lord Megatron, as I stated in my previous message, I am working on something of incredible importance. Don’t worry your pretty little helm about it. The experiment shall conclude in a few cycles, just as planned.” He kept up his usual attitude of cockiness as he stared at scans he’d taken of his frame. According to what his machinery was gathering, his frame was starting to swell in places, small pockets of protomatter less than an inch in side, all forming one by one all over him like organic skin pores.

It was rather disgusting to think about it in that light.

“Do you have assistants with you? I will not risk this vessel’s only medical expert offlining.” Knockout fought back a scoff as he held the vial of Breakdown’s extracted CNA. He fiddled with the container, smiling as he replied.

“Of course. I have my most trusted assistant right by my side.” Megatron made a noise of agreement before shutting down the comm link. Knockout leaned against his console, fondling the vial a while longer as he looked up at his scans. 

Soon. Very soon.

The cycles wore on, and as they did, Knockout dutifully documented the changes. His need for fuel had drastically decreased, a sign of his frame preparing for something or other. Additionally, he was recharging more and more often and for longer periods of time. A certain level of lethargy hung in his limbs, making it difficult for him to continually make note of his circumstances and not leave his medical bay despite how much base instinct tried to get him to move and go toward where he knew there were others.

Megatron bothered him every now and then, but Knockout was quite skilled at keeping his tone even. The warlord suspected nothing, just like Knockout wanted. This was meant to be special—just him and Breakdown. He didn’t want his boss to come kicking the door down in an attempt to stop what had already begun and ruin the significance of it all.

“Till all are one... you know, Breakdown, I never really believed in that lovely quote from the Primacy. But I think it makes more sense now that we’re going to make something beautiful together.” He was tired, so very tired. But looking into the faint blue glow of the vial containing all that was left of his other half, Knockout found something akin to peace settling in his spark. His frame ached, but soon everything would be better.

“I miss when you held me in your arms and complimented my features. I don’t think I ever told you that the reason I kept up the red was because you liked it so much.” Leaning back in his chair, Knockout held the vial to his chassis, closing his optics in order to pretend that somehow, through some miracle, Breakdown was with him. He imagined firm servos on his shoulders, massaging tense cables and helping him unwind after a long cycle. 

Fond memories supplied him with a cheerful laugh filled with nothing but adoration as he and Breakdown playfully bantered, exchanging gossip like there wouldn’t be consequences if they were caught distracted. He recalled all their frantic couplings, never daring to risk taking too long to be one in mind and spark for fear of punishment. He wished he’d taken more time back then. He wished he’d savored the protective warmth of his companion’s spark brushing up against his own in the most intimate of kisses.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them from taking you.” Coolant gathered in his optics as his frame began to heat up in response to his unsettling emotional state. He felt the drops roll down his cheeks, but he didn’t wipe them away. He merely held the chilled vial close, desperately longing for a spark signature that was long gone. It was clinical, so very clinical... and there was no warmth to be found.

“I’m sorry, I’m too weak to go on without you. I know… I know you’d want me to live life to the fullest in your absence, but I can’t.” His composure cracked as he looked up at the ceiling, trying not to gaze around his medical bay in the vain hope that his beloved might still be there, gathering supplies or sorting through datapads on his behalf. 

He could hardly vent; it hurt so much.

“Not without you.” Primus was cruel to take a mech as good as Breakdown so soon.

The itching started around the fifth cycle of his isolation. It was faint at first, but then it grew more and more difficult to ignore. It felt like he was bloated, almost as if he had a series of microscopic tears in every single one of his fuel lines. He scratched without meaning to more often than not, and more than once he had to set his door to lock automatically to keep himself from running out.

Itching, itching, itching.

He wished Breakdown were there to caress his frame, chasing away the discomfort with loving touches and soothing words. For such a big mech, he was so very kind. 

But Breakdown was gone. He’d been gone for months now. All Knockout had left was a vial of his CNA. His forever’s final gift and remnant.

By the sixth cycle, taking decent notes was all but impossible. He settled on setting up a camera just above the medical berth for when he inevitably met his end. He was fidgety, itching, and nervous in a way he’d never been before. Sometimes he found himself pacing, muttering nonsense that he only managed to stop through sheer force of will.

The itch never stopped. 

Emotional codes became tangled and out of place. Priority calculations shifted and left him paranoid, leading Knockout to try and perform manual labor more than once before realizing he was out of his designated role. His protocols were blaring all the time, drowning out his vision with demands for him to find a group and to get to safety. He screamed at some point, clutching his helm and whimpering at how overwhelming it all was.

How had Prime dealt with it all before death all but snuck up on him?

On what he assumed was the seventh cycle, the itch turned to an infuriating burn. Clawing at his protoform and base armor wasn’t enough. It hurt, so much so that he could hardly see straight, much less make any logical decisions. All he had the strength to do was jab and IV with his painkillers into his arm and inject himself with Breakdown’s precious CNA before he collapsed onto his medical berth, the straps clamping down on his limbs.

The vial was discarded on the ground, empty, and used. Despite the fact that it no longer had anything of Breakdown left in it, Knockout wished he could hold it, if only to comfort himself as the pain increased.

Panic set in not long after the straps finished tightening. His venting hitched as the burn worsened. For a moment, he regretted every life decision he’d ever made, including his idiotic choice to go down in flames like he was taking one for the team. When had he ever been a team player? What the frag was wrong with him?

“Slag. This is going to hurt.” He winced, biting back a cry as he felt the first tears begin to form along his protoform. Optimus had skipped this part entirely, going straight for bone obliteration and internal shredding. Knockout almost wished he could do the same as cracks began running along his limbs, the angle of the medical berth letting him see how energon and protomatter started to swell in the wounds.

The painkillers were his salvation as he watched in grim fascination, observing as his very protoform bubbled as if an inflamed fuel line was growing and threatening to burst right beneath the surface layer of his very being. He bit his lower derma as his protoform continued to bulge, finally bursting in his legs and in his right arm. He didn’t dare cry out, instead forcefully silencing himself for as long as possible.

Screams would draw attention. Sound would ruin this precious moment between himself and what he was going to make. This was a family matter, his and Breakdown’s last gift to the world. It couldn’t be interrupted.

Cables burst, spurting energon that trickled down the medical berth and pooled on the ground beneath him. Wires and various connectivity tissues pulsed and all but slithered as the buds started to take shape. It hurt like slag, but it wasn’t as bad as it likely would have been without painkillers. The scene itself was still a work of horror, especially as the small mounds began to grow, their mass pushing aside everything else.

“Looks like at least one of these buds is going to turn out just like you, Breakdown! They’ve got your size already!” Knockout laughed, lost in medically induced mania as the bud on his left leg swelled and caused the entire limb to bloat. His pede shifted, deforming before snapping off entirely to allow the bud to consume the stump. Knockout did end up screaming as his bones snapped under the weight of the thing, every pain receptor in the limb activating in hot waves of agony.

The bone stuck out from his leg, jutting at an odd angle and glittering blue as if Primus himself had thrown some sort of polish on it. Knockout could see every single micro-connector within the broken skeletal structure, still pulsing with charge. The medic in him screamed, demanding he heal the wound. But he was well aware of his doom. The metal around his abdomen was already graying, a sign of severe energon loss.

There was no stopping it now.

The chorus of suffering was only added to as the two other buds performed similarly. The smaller one on his right leg bulged and crawled up his limb like mold, eating away at his plating with acidic effects that revealed delicate circitry that sizzled and popped as they were corroded. Knockout couldn’t have possibly predicted that outcome with how the bud on his left leg was acting. The one on his arm hurt the most, surprisingly. Knockout could hardly see through the coolant, causing his vision to become hazy, but he did note his digits doing the same thing that Optimus’s had before his death. They increased in size, the plating oozing with protomatter before cracking and all but exploding to make way for the bud.

The remnants of his digits were nothing more than thin skeletal bones connected only by tender ligaments, which had quickly begun to lose their strength. 

He shrieked as the painkillers were overridden by the sheer amount of torment assaulting him. There was no comfort to be found as he started to flail, composure fleeing him as he cried out for anyone to help him. He was sure he screamed for Breakdown most, but at some point he must have cried for someone else as well, because he started to hear murmurs outside his medical bay. A Vehicon must have noted his wails.

“Breakdown-!” He sobbed against his restraints, hardly able to watch as more and more parts of his very frame tore themselves apart. The buds did not climb higher than their sectioned limbs, but they consumed, ripped, and tore. There was so much blue. So much blue...

Crack after crack, cry after cry. It blended into a meaningless babble. 

At some point, the agony almost entirely ceased as weight dropped off Knockout like a heavy burden long forgotten. The straps holding him came undone, leaving him to lay there, bleeding out and struggling to keep his fans running. The relief he felt was palpable as he reveled in the lack of pain. Although the chill that crept into what remained of his frame did little to comfort him.

Once he’d cleared the coolant from his optics, he mustered the will to look toward the ground where the three buds floundered. The sticky mounds convulsed, thin stick-like limbs jutting out in almost spider-like fashion before more living metal could wreath the limb in musculature and mass. The things looked horrifying as faces tore themselves from the masses, gaping intakes and lightless optics appearing half melted before they convulsed a few more times and finally booted online.

Knockout’s venting slowed as energon loss began to set in. The painkillers were finally doing their slagging job, giving him a half-decent look at his spawn as they stood up one by one, looking over their frames with the innocence of the newly forged. The newbuilds were so very fascinating, so very... Breakdown, each in their own way.

“You are not supposed to be alive.” The biggest of the bunch, a heavy-set newbuild with a rounded helm structure and bright headlights already in formation, addressed Knockout quietly. There was no mockery, no insults, merely an observation. This was like him. Knockout could see it in the red optics that met his own. They were modeled just like Breakdown’s.

“Just had to make sure... that you lot carried Breakdown... in your CNA as well.” His voice came out as little more than a pitiful wheeze, but Knockout didn’t have the presence of mind of care as the other two stared at him. The smallest of the ground was also quite a bulky thing, another of Breakdown’s traits. They shone with gold optics, so reminiscent of his beloved.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, originator.” The smallest one looked him up and down, likely assessing the horror that was Knockout’s devastated frame. He managed a grim laugh at that, even as his senses started to dull.

“You look just like him.” Knockout coughed up energon, his spark flaring painfully in remembrance as the last of the newbuilds waved to him shyly. The newbuild was blue and orange, looking almost exactly like his other creator in all but accenting paint and digits. He had Knockout’s claws, a fact that brought him no small amount of pride.

“You’ve done well, originator. Return to your Conjunx. We will take over from here.” The biggest of the newbuilds touched Knockout’s helm, caressing his helm crest and audials in a fond manner. His venting hitched again, this time in loss as he looked over all three of his spawn.

Breakdown would have been thrilled to meet them.

“Your… designations?” His vision started to fail him as he stared at the three. They shared a look, and then all of them smiled.

“Flatline of Knockout and Breakdown.” The largest answered first, bringing more tears to Knockout’s optics as he heard both his and his beloved’s designation. They were both honored here.

“Quickmix.” The smallest replied curtly, but they were kind enough to touch Knockout’s shoulder in their form of a silent goodbye. They reminded Knockout of himself when he was young. At least this one would have siblings to help them along.

“Wildbreak... of Knockout and Breakdown.” The last of the bunch uttered their name quietly, but with a hint of awe. Knockout couldn’t help but smile as his vision failed him and the touches of his three creations lingered on his frame.

This... this had been worth it.

“We did it… Breakdown.” His voice was lost as his hearing started to putter out. The last thing he heard was his door crashing down and the booming voice of Megatron echoing in his medical bay.

“KNOCKOUT-!”

[depoemdawg]

Unveil (pt. 1)

Part 2

Part 3

Character: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N, the self-appointed explorer of Hogwarts, finds herself investigating a mysterious new Slytherin student and his unknown connection to the ghost in the Room of Requirements.

Author's Notes: Uhh first story! This just popped in my head and I thought maybe I should write it down! I hope you guys enjoy this story :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/n.” 

“Y/n!”

“Merlin's beard!” I sigh and turn to look at an annoyed Ginny Weasley. “I’ve told you to break up with him, Ginny. Dean is not the boy for you. I'd even wager to bet that if you asked him what your favourite colour is, he wouldn’t be able to tell you..” I tell her, giving her a pointed look. 

Her eyebrows unfurl as she looks at me, her cheeks burned red. “I didn’t know you were listening…..” She slaps my arm. “Especially when your attention is glued to the new Slytherin boy.” 

“Glued to what?” I scoff. “I was not-” I glanced in the direction I was looking. “I was not, my attention is not on the new boy.” 

She gives me a teasing look, a smile creeping on her lips. “Right….” 

She had a point. Perhaps I was a bit too curious about the boy with dark curly hair who sat across from us, just a couple tables away. He had somehow already made a group of friends, no doubt with the most chaotic people he could find in Slytherin. Mattheo Malfoy. Not that he looked anything like Draco Malfoy. He had none of the platinum blonde hair, none of the pompous attitude. What he did have though, was an intimidating look. Apparently, he was a cousin of a cousin of a cousin. Entirely too suspicious, if you ask me.

“Don’t you think it’s odd? The minute the death eaters are found by the Ministry, out comes this cousin that no one ever knew Malfoy even had?” I whisper to Ginny who is entirely consumed in her plate of spaghetti, her favourite. 

Ginny gives me an exhausted look and wipes her mouth with a napkin before speaking. “I think it’s odd you would be so interested in Malfoy’s cousin."

I play with the food on my plate while thinking. “Yeah…” I had bigger fish to fry anyway. I glanced down at my watch. “Crap- I have to run.” I grab my satchel from the table and jump up, accidentally tipping my glass in the process. 

“Wh-” Ginny looks at me with wide eyes and a pasta noodle hanging from the corner of her mouth. “Where are you going?!” At this point, people started glancing but then again, chaos wasn’t uncommon in the Great Hall. “Next time I see you, you better had broken up with that boy, Ginny.” I say as I take a quick bite of my sandwich and jog out of the hall.

.

.

.

Where was it?

One left.

Two rights.

Was it two lefts and one right?

No! It’s here. It has to be.

I set my satchel down on the floor as I stood in front of the wall. The Room of Requirements. It has to be here. I had been looking for the entrance for months. When I finally came across it last week, I was faced with a new challenge. I needed to find a way in. 

I mutter the words from a book I had read about the secrets of Hogwarts. “must walk past the wall of Hogwarts Castle that conceals the room three times, focusing on what they need.” What did I need? Did I even know what I needed?

My sole purpose was to find this room. I had decided in my first year that I would uncover all of the secrets that lay in the castle. Every single one. To this day, I’d found a handful but never the Room of Requirements. 

I paced back and forth in front of the wall, trying to focus on my purpose. Room of Requirements. Room of Requirements. Was this even the right wall? Had it really been two lefts and one right? 

I groan and hold my head in my hands, sitting across the wall. I could not, for the life of me, get my brain to focus on what it was I wanted. My thoughts unwillingly began drifting off to another mystery that I couldn’t crack. What was the damn boy hiding? But, what if he isn't hiding anything. What if he really just was Draco Malfoy's boring, admittedly sort of cute, cousin?

GRUMBLE

Grumble?

I’m shook out of my thoughts as I look to see the bricks in front of me uncovering a door. “Woah…” I mutter. The door was huge, with intricate designs on it. This must be it. The door to the Room of Requirements. I hold myself back from celebrating months of effort and cautiously walk towards it.

Beautiful, green and black designs. A snake crest lay in the middle of the door, frozen mid hiss. My fingers traced the snake before landing on the handle. I took a deep breath before pressing down on the handle and opening the door. The door creaked open, I took one glance outside the room before entering the room.

The room was…..surprisingly small? It consisted of a writing table on which a diary-like book rested. As I looked around the room, I noticed multiple doors outlining the walls of this room. Where did all these doors lead? I walked towards the desk and picked up the mysterious notebook. As I flipped through the pages, each one as empty as the last, I heard a footstep. 

Startled, I dropped the notebook and turned around. No one. I scan the room for any sign of a human. “Hello?” I say in a firm voice.

.

.

.

Moments passed, no one replied. It must’ve been in my head I think as I pick up the notebook and place it back on the desk.

“Who are you?” A cold voice cracks in the room. I whip to look behind me and that’s when I saw it.

A man, ghastly looking thing. His skin was as pale as his hair was dark. His eyes held a bored, almost dead look yet something about him told me I should be scared. I noticed he was wearing a suit and looked to be in his 40s.

“I-I’m sorry. The room led me here. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing here.” My previous firmness melted as the room grew colder by the second. The stranger steps forward towards me.

“Who. are. You?” He emphasizes every word and I get the feeling he won’t ask again. “Y/n. Y/n L/n. I didn’t mean to intrude.” I let out.

He lets out a small breath that I suppose one could consider a sigh. His dark eyes sized me up. “You’re a Hogwarts student, are you?”

“Yes, sir.” I feel myself freeze under his gaze. Afraid a single move would get me hexed.

His expression let no emotion show. If he was disappointed, he wasn’t letting it show. But something told me, he wasn’t trying to hide anything  either. There was something almost inhumane about him.

“Are you a ghost?” I let out after a few moments of silence between us.

He stared at me, wordlessly.

After several moments of more silence which eventually felt awkward and not as intimidating, the ghost speaks. 

“Leave.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice, I nodded rapidly and quickly made my escape through the door I had come in from. As I left the room, the bricks slowly covered the door back up. As if it had never been there. 

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding as I leaned on the wall opposite from the room. Who was that? More importantly, why had the room sent me there?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know I make questionable decisions. But this was certainly one of the worst of them.

I crouched through the bushes, waving my wand around to look around the dark forest. It was close to midnight, the only time when a student could possibly even enter the forest without being caught. There was a certain ingredient I was looking for, an ingredient which would help me make the potion I needed to sneak past the guards and into the forbidden part of the library. I needed to find out more about the ghost in the Room of Requirements.

Before I knew it, my foot tripped on a low branch. It sent me tumbling down a hill and landing by the edge of a small lake. I cursed as I stood up. As far as questionable decisions go, this one had certainly paid off.

The lake was lit up by fireflies around it, the lake was astoundingly clear. Colourful fishes in the lake swam around in schools. I leaned by the lake and watched in awe. This was beautiful. Butterflies flew around me as if greeting me, one even fluttering down on to my hand.

"Pretty little thing." I smile as I admired it's wings.

Suddenly, a voice spoke. “Who are you?”

Bloody hell, that was the second time I was being asked that this week. When the butterfly flies off my hand, I groan and turn around to find the source. 

Mattheo.

My eyes widen when I see him standing by the lake just a couple feet away from me. What was he even doing here?

“What is it to you?” I respond, dryly. My guard is still up as I frown. It was not a good look for him to be here so late at night. Especially with my already growing suspicions. 

“You know me.” He says, his voice slightly amused. “I think it’s fair for me to know who you are.”

I let out a short laugh, almost a scoff. “What makes you think I know who you are?”

He smiles and looks away with a smirk. “You’ve taken an interest in me.”

I narrow my eyes as I realize what he’s talking about. He noticed me staring at him.  My mouth opens to retort some smart response but it shuts as I realize I’m the one caught like a deer in headlights here.

“What? Nothing to say?” He grins, clearly finding a lot of humour in this.

“It’s not the way you think it is.” I fold my arms.

“Then what way is it, raven?” His nickname catches me off guard. He puts his hands in his pant’s pockets, eying me. Waiting for a response.

“I just think it’s odd for you to appear in the middle of the school year. Especially with the recent arrests.” I say with an accusatory tone.

His smile falls, all traces of humour leaving his eyes. He stalks towards me, slowly yet threateningly. “You ought to be less nosy, raven.” His voice drops into a darker tone. 

I step back from him, my glare still trained on him. His dark tone striking me as all too familiar.

“What’re you even doing here?” He scoffs, narrowing his eyes at me. Great, now he’s suspicious?

“I could ask you the same thing.” I say.

Mattheo looks at me, as if debating whether to curse me out of existence before sighing and dropping his head. His expression suddenly returned to amusement. “Touché.” He shrugs and walks towards the tree line. Before he disappears, he throws me one last look. “The centaurs are lurking around. It’d be in your best interest to avoid them.”

Well.

He's certainly something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Notes: Okay, I promise it gets better. The entire story is already laid in my head but there's no way I can fit it all into one part. It's looking pretty good so far! I'll link the second part on here when it's done!

[dolcefiente]

Dead Poets Society. 📖

10/10

— The damn tears… I can’t remember the last time i cried that much. It was absolutely beautiful. Literally made me into poetry. I’m reading and writing poetry. The impact this movie had on me is crazy. I wish i could forget about it and rewatch it again and again.

— At first, i was so hyped up! These boys were going to have such beautiful minds and hearts, they were going to have meaningful conversation. Mr. Keating was a wonderful teacher and the boys were so lucky to have him. I bet those lessons made every other student’s school life a lot more interesting and fun aswell. Made me wish i had someone to inspire me like him.

— This part was 🔛🔝.

— Amazing cinematography, amazing lighting, amazing cast, amazing script, amazing storyline, amazing actors… It felt as if they were actually living their normal lives in that school everyday. I loved every scene and absorbed it carefully.

— These two made me giggle so much. As someone who’s dealing with anxiety, i can say that we all need a neil in out lives. Because the guy inside us keeps us away from a lot of things and someone promosing us that ‘it’s going to be okay’ affects so much than you can guess. Even if that person doesn’t really do much, we feel relieved that someone actually cares our state of minds. That takes most the weight off of us.

— After i finished the movie, i scrolled through my socials and people were also crazy about these two. I didn’t really considered them as lovers but it’s one way to look at it i guess. 😅

— As the movie continued, i started feeling anxious and my guts didn’t fail me again. Neil’s death was a trauma for all but Todd & Mr. Keating the most. Losing such a person that ruled the people with kindness and the leader who never asked but always needed of course made people feel empty. But losing your roommate who checked up if you’re doing fine, convinced you to do as you wish, promised to take care of you is just… So upsetting that i had to pause and cry.

— Also FUCK Cameron for what he did. He always felt uneasy with the group and tried getting along anyway. Then ruined everything as if it was his own and everyone began to feeling depressed. Mr. Keating opened eyes and Cameron had no right to poke his annoying ass in them. I hope he becomes whatever he wants to be but never seen in daylight ever again. Mr. Keating was a captain to all.

— Todd’s poem, Neil’s play and failed confession, boys running to the woods to read their silly poems and every other scene was filmed so beautifully. Every single one of them had meanings behind them and i enjoyed all.

— Everyone should watch DPS before it’s too late to feel silly things in your stomach for reading beautiful writings. Watch it before you grow up as adults.

🎬,, Oh captain, my captain. You will be missed. (Rest in peace Robin Williams.)”

[darkonekrisrewrite]

The Villains (specifically the Lov) Are Right

Especially about the civilians in Bnha

(2 Part Meta Civilians and Lov) (Warning spoilers and long Meta Post) (Permission given to re-blog)

The Lov, specifically the core League of Villains, don’t owe any consideration, atonement or apologies to the civilians in Bnha. Because since long before the Lov had even become villains, even when they were still children, the civilians decided that they don’t owe them anything at all.

Most people I’ve seen in the fandom say something like “I don’t justify or excuse the villain’s actions.”, when it comes to the destructive/murderous parts of the villain’s deeds, which is very nice and moral of them to say.

But as long as we’re talking about the average Bnha civilian, I definitely justify/excuse the Lov’s actions.

Because the “innocent” people in Bnha are awful.

Part 1 The Civilians

That’s not even an opinion really but rather a fact that’s been presented to us clearly, over and over again, in Bnha’s story.

That’s partially why I believe that, even at their worst, the Lov are still worth more than most of the civilians that we’ve been shown so far.

See Past the Labels

“Heroes”, “Villains”, “Innocent People”. All labels that are used frequently over the course of Bnha, but seeing past these, looking beyond what we’re told by the story and instead seeing what we are shown by the story, that’s where the truth is in what these characters are and the effects their actions have on each other.

In Hero stories, saving the innocent/civilians is pretty much a guarantee at any point in time, it’s a prerequisite.

Where in most of those fiction, the civilians (or any large social group of innocents) are shown to definitely be people that should be saved, that it would be a tragedy if even some of them died, no matter the numbers.

But that’s not the case here, because the civilians in bnha aren’t like what you’d normally find in a hero tale, so much so that they’re nearly incomparable to any other series’ “Innocents”.

Looking at them as a whole, they’re more like what you’d find in a horror story.

Starting with one of the largest by the numbers examples:

They’re personifications of the bystander effect/syndrome, taken to the highest degree.

A truth that’s sometimes overlooked is that, while All for One and the Shimura family played a part in making Tenko Shimura the Tomura Shigaraki that he is today, so did all the civilians above. If even a single one of them had tried to help the child that would become the most dangerous villain, no matter how that would have turned out, the person Shigaraki is now would be different, maybe entirely.

Even just one true attempt to aid the scary looking child, instead of leaving it to the heroes who weren’t there, would have made a lasting impact. Just like the civilians choosing not to lift a finger to help left a lasting impact on Shigaraki in the present.

They condemn people for things that aren’t their fault, even when the individual hasn’t done anything wrong:

These are pretty self-explanatory in the point, but these aren’t just examples of ‘bad luck’, they showcase a callous legal system and civilians willing to throw a 16 year old kid under the bus for something that was in no way his ‘stumble’ or fault.

(First Side Point: Twice didn’t turn to a life of villainy because it was his “choice”. There’s been zero evidence of any social help for victims of hero society’s circumstances, so there’s no reason to assume that Twice had any help in supporting himself after his parents died. Twice then getting fired from his low level Job and having a glaring blemish on his record (as shown above ^) was a death sentence for a normal life right then and there, especially considering the setting in hero society (Japanese culture taken to its most socially merciless), it doesn’t really need to be spelled out any more than that why he turned to a life of crime against a society that screwed him over at every level and left him to rot. Between becoming a tragic statistic that the hero state didn’t (and still doesn’t) care about or becoming a villain for the chance at having some kind of life, it’s not really a choice at all. The saying ‘Cool motive still Murder’ comes up sometimes when taking about specific villains in Bnha and my response to that would be: ‘Then Suffer and Die Nobly.’ There is no ‘being better’ because if they were better in their current circumstances, they’d just quickly become a statistic.)

They’d rather someone, even their own children; suffer in silence than be seen as anything but their “normal”:

Toga’s parents might seem like a more ‘personal’ point but they’re actually a prime example of the standard bnha civilian, caring nothing about their own suffering young and only about their own lives and normalcy. Even when Toga was obviously self-harming due to her quirk, something that couldn’t logically have been hidden from them, there was no real attempts to help her with this other than rejection (as evident by the parents stopping taking her height down on the wall when her quirk presumably manifested, clearly meant to be a hint that it was the point that they stopped caring about her) and sending her to “Quirk Counseling”, taking no responsibility in helping their child and taking none after Toga was broken under the weight of what was normal after struggling to hold back for so many years.

This mentality extends past Toga’s parents to most of bnha’s civilians.

When Dabi revealed himself as Toya and exposed the Todoroki family’s past the world, nobody cared. At least not in any way that could be considered ‘caring’.

Endeavor bought and bred his wife, and it’s very debatable whether or not the later ‘child making’ could be considered consensual.

Rei told endeavor that it was “too much” and “too cruel”, all but saying that she didn’t want to have any more children, and in the anime it’s played even more clearly:

This ^ does not seem like consent.

Also letting his first born son burn himself to his apparent death because he couldn’t be bothered to care enough to prevent it.

Endeavor knew Toya was burning himself and he never got him any psychiatric help, even though Toya was already having extreme signs of mental breaks alongside the burning, he never even thought about it.

Even if this failed in stopping Toya, Endeavor just could have pulled some strings as the number 2 hero and gotten Toya Hero tech/equipment/suits, anything that might have helped.

But all Endeavor did was tell Toya to stop and do “other things” and when that failed he simply ignored him, even though he knew his child was literally burning himself.

(Endeavor could be considered an unreliable narrator, I think other great Meta writers have already called him on that, with him telling Natsuo that he never meant to neglect any of his children, which is evident (by how he treated Toya) as complete Bullshit.)

Now do the civilians know all of this down to a T?

No, but even before the Dabi reveal there was more than enough sketchy events surrounding Endeavor to raise eyebrows on anyone paying attention.

A son burning to death alone on a mountain, another son getting a burn scar on his face and a wife in a Mental Hospital, more than a little suspicious. Nobody ever looked into it.

And after the Dabi reveal, after Endeavor confirmed what Dabi said to everyone, this is the only Civilian backlash he gets:

Nobody cared what happened to the Todoroki family; they only cared about how it affected them. The first half of that anger wasn’t even about the Todoroki drama.

And while the mention of Dabi’s victims and their families might seem like consideration, paired alongside everything else the bnha civilians are/do, I really doubt that the line comes from a genuine place of sympathy.

They have no loyalty to their best Heroes:

After everything Deku did for them, they wouldn’t risk a single thing for him. Most of them don’t even look anxious or afraid, just angry at their lives being disrupted.

Telling the kid who nearly worked himself to death, fighting so that they could have their lives back to piss off, while danger sense was being activated implying that they did mean him very real harm.

 Another big point against the Civilians that’s brought up a lot:

They’re violently racist. (Quirk-ist? Anti-Mutant? Basically against anyone very different in their appearance and/or their quirks.)

Mutants are an obvious Allegory for the racism/minority angle of the story, and it never casts the majority of the civilians in a positive light when it’s touched upon.

(Second Side point: Revisiting the end of ‘Side Point One’ because it pairs perfectly here, Shoji Mezo’s “Answer” to the horrible treatment the Heteromorph/mutants face is the opposite of that, and by that I mean Shoji’s answer is pretty much: Aspects of Uncle Tom’s Cabin Syndrome (an American theory/term but a Universal Theme) mixed with the acceptance of hero martyrdom.

His words to the Heteromorphs are this: “Let’s use that light to change the people who hurt us. So that they’ll feel ashamed to ever raise their fists against us again.”

Very inspiring…or at least it would be, were his words not disproven by his own backstory. 

Shoji got his Scars ^ after he saved the little girl, in fact him saving her life was literally the cause of it.

There is no greater way to Shine or be heroic than doing what Shoji did, saving the life of a small child from drowning to death, and for that act the “Innocent People” gave him the Joker facial treatment.

Seriously if there’s a group of people who “don’t deserve to be saved” in Bnha; it is civilians like this.

Yet Shoji’s answer is still to “Be better than mere Avengers” and if they don’t the Heteromorph’s “Children will become the next Target!” as if they weren’t already??

None of it makes sense when looking at the whole picture and it’s clearly not a great plan, to draw another American based parallel that fits too well not to be noticed despite it being American; Shoji Mezo is basically Sturdy Harris from the Boondocks TV Series (freedom ride or die episode).

Look up the character’s wiki info or watch the episode, the fact that Shoji is willing to use violence in some extreme instances might seem a difference between them but the fact that he urges the other Heteromorphs to “be better than avengers” and “use their light to change the people who hurt us until they feel ashamed”, giving no thought as to whether or not his fellow Heteromorphs could even survive living by that standard like he can, fits the comparison to a T.)

Back to the final few points about the Bnha Civilians:

Are the Civilians in Bnha conditioned to be this way, products of influence and circumstance much like the heroes and villains are?

Kind of but not really.

While it is true that there are mountains of propaganda in hero society, there’s nothing specific enough to point to and say that this is why the Bnha civilians are this level of callous. They’re conditioned to love heroes and fear the violent villains they’re fighting, not to ignore the suffering of children (even their own) completely, and they’re definitely not compelled through propaganda to reject them or scar them, nothing in the series is evident of that.

And even worse, all of these examples of the people’s flaws/incidents (excluding the Ordinary Woman Heteromorph) happened during Allmight’s “Era of Peace”, so there’s no shifting the blame onto the villain’s current actions and even less excuse for things like these to be happening.

Why should the Bnha civilians have peace or justice if they’re like this?

If they show no more empathy or loyalty than the worst, most unsympathetic villains in the series (Like AFO) then maybe their point of view shouldn’t be considered any more than his. (And even AFO had some truth in his points: Failed social framework and the Quirk Singularity.)

To draw one final example for the Civilians with another Manga series that has pretty awful ‘ordinary people’ in it: Naruto.

But even in Naruto, the Author still showed that there were good people among the Civs. Population that weren’t like that and that did deserve to be protected and live peaceful lives, people who were outside of the Ninja system and just genuinely humane.

Before Naruto became a hero who saved the village multiple times, before he was even a ninja, they treated him like the human child he was.

These characters deserve their own Meta, other Naruto fans have probably written them already.

But suffice to say that the people who treated right the abandoned and hated child, host to a demon Fox that could casually level mountains, Teuchi Ramen (Owner and Daughter), are an excellent example of giving narrative motivation to “protect the people”.

There’s not much of anything like that in Bnha’s story, not anyone to point at and say; “They are worth saving/protecting!” and having it actually be true instead of just ‘What the hero is supposed to say’.

 And if anyone disagrees with this, I’ll ask: Can one instance of goodwill be pointed to for the Bnha civilians? Any act of compassion, bravery or selflessness from someone in Bnha who wasn’t in anyway associated with heroes?

And no, the Civilians letting Deku stay at UA does not count.

It wasn’t even framed as selfless or compassionate anyway:

This ^ is a deal more than anything else.

Because the heroes (Deku) swore they’d fix things and the people practically made him swear it before they were let in.

Kota and the Ordinary Woman running to stand by Deku was a sweet and great moment but considering that he saved them first, it seemed more like a ‘returning the Favor’ sentiment. Same with the rogue Civillian group helping Shindo after he fought Muscular, more a give it back than a gift.

 Part 2 The Lov

Even at their worst, the Lov still display humanity and redeeming qualities more than most of the civilians.

And I believe that this is 100% truth because Actions/Dialogue without reason for deception and inner thoughts, imply genuine Truth.

Actions:

This ^ scene is referred back to a lot because it’s a good showing of Compassion/Bonds, one of the first really, in the League of Villains, in Toga saving Twice from ‘coming apart’.

Toga has no real reason to comfort Twice as much as she does in this series, in this first instance and in later ones, because aside from one time (no matter how cool and heartfelt it was) in MVA when Twice saves her and the rest of the League, Twice kind of messed things up more than a few times for the Lov.

Bringing Overhaul to meet the Lov without precaution resulting in the death of Magne (even though she herself rushed in recklessly), Twice’s personal hang-ups limiting his Quirk lessening his value to operations overall (from a purely strategic standpoint), and trusting Hawks (because he felt bad for him) so much he gave out Info that definitely shouldn’t have been given.

Yet despite having one singular success in MVA that Twice really pulled through among many other shortcomings, Toga still cared about him. Enough to try to help him hold himself together during the Overhaul business and then later go on a violent, rage filled assault toward the Heroes during the MLA raid after Twice was killed, giving little thought to her own safety.

Dialogue without reason for deception:

While Shigaraki is definitely an unreliable narrator, as evident by the monologue ^ in the bottom panel clearly contradicting what actually happened during the death of his family, the middle panel where he states that he only wants “Them” (definitely the Lov) to live as they see fit seems like the truth.

Because why would Shigaraki lie here? In this time or place to Redestro, someone he presently had no reason to manipulate, as they were in a life or death fight?

Shigaraki couldn’t have known Redestro would surrender, at this point he was talking to someone he fully intended to kill, further dissipating any suspect of manipulation.

Shigaraki does care about his comrades, their wishes and while he hasn’t really kept the promise he made as of current Bnha, I think that’s a result of All for One scrambling his Brain so much during the Mental Fusion stuff, the true Shigaraki barely seeming to know what’s going on half the time and only able to think about his past.

Twice and Spinner: Basically everything about them.

They might not think things through that much, but there’s no doubt that Twice and Spinner were and still are devoted to who they care about, true loyalty in all its successes and faults.

Inner Thoughts:

Dabi is…kind of a dick most of the time, even to the Lov, just to a much lesser extent than to everyone else.

It makes sense that he’d act that way though, given what he’s been through and the end goal of his plans, it’s understandable why he’d want to push everyone away in some form and not let them get too close.

But even underneath all of that, Dabi much like the rest of the core Lov never blamed Twice for his mistakes, and since this is an inner thought and thus having no reason for manipulation, it does imply that this is his honest truth.

Knowing that Twice would blame himself, although he never said it out loud, maybe he couldn’t with all of his own personal hang-ups, Dabi inside probably did want to reassure Twice that none of this was his fault.

The Core Lov do have empathy towards others abandoned and hurt by Hero Society like themselves, and they do care about each other, that is as much as they’re able to care about each other while being weighed on by their own individual issues.

 The hero kid’s parents

Lastly for this Meta, there are parts of Hero Society that shouldn’t ever be destroyed, but they fall into small groups and come with their own faults.

The Hero Kid’s parents shouldn’t be destroyed just by virtue of being so close to the better/more heroic characters, but even they aren’t that great with possibly one exception.

Inko Midoriya has technically tried to protect Izuku but she never really helped him. She basically apologies for his existence in the childhood flashback, and until Izuku got a Quirk and became a Hero, she was never really shown to encourage him in anything, even to find happiness in other things.

Despite having doubts herself about saying the wrong thing to her son, Inko later tries to keep him from going back to UA for very good reason from a parent’s point of view.

But then she’s pretty easily convinced by a promise from Allmight, that wasn’t in anyway kept. Cut to the Dark Deku stuff later, she never calls Allmight out on this.

It’s the same story with little difference for all the student’s parents, they’ve never been shown to try to protect their children, especially at the UA confrontation with the Civilian Mob.

Inko, Bakugo’s parents, Ochako’s parents, and I’m just assuming the rest of them to cause it makes sense for them to be at the UA shelter, none of them helped.

I know Inko was being held back by Mitsuki because it was dangerous, but couldn’t she have shaken her off?

Kota did and ran to Deku to try to help him, and he was a little kid being held back Pixiebob (a Hero).

That probably wasn’t what Hori was going for or implying but that’s what happened.

Is this an illogical thought process that would be dangerous or harmful for the parents? Definitely.

But that’s the point. The parental instinct that goes beyond self-preservation and logic to protect their children hasn’t been shown for any of them.

Except one.

*Current Spoiler Warning*

 Rei Todoroki in the recent chapter stands apart and above in this aspect, although this depends very much on how it’s framed going forward.

A mother fighting to stop her child from killing himself more than trying to stop a Villain from killing. Both true but one has to take front over the other for it to be meaningful, for Rei to show that she will stop Touya from burning himself this time, unlike how she wouldn’t before.

That’s character development, that’s parental instinct.

*Very current Spoilers*

 Rei is there for Touya  :)  trying to save her son…and also Endeavor maybe?

Close enough (Double Thumbs UP!)

 The children

Another group that definitely should never destroyed is the Young Children of Bnha, Kota, Eri, the work studies Kid group.

I put them into a separate category than the whole of the Civilians but it would take a lot to explain why that is and why they can be viewed as their own separate group, so I’ll put it in the next Meta and expand on how they relate to the existential parts of Bnha.

Also same for the villains/heroes and finally getting to the Quirk Singularity Theory.

To be Continued…

[jams-sims]

I wrote a whole ass essay for Philza now Im gonna do it for Jaiden. In defense of the lack of content with Jaiden in it (real quick). Being an old goat of fandoms I can explain it (don't worry this won't take long and also it plays into her character's overarching narrative of a grieving mother.) Plain in simple women in Minecraft are notorious for getting shit on by the collective fandom. (Everyone has to take part in making sure that it stops happening.) She is mainly a YouTuber which makes a dissonance between mainly youtube viewers and Twitch watchers. So it's harder to catch her just because you have to go to another site. Also, she doesn't stream as often as everyone else. This makes for a lack of content, just because Jaiden is just a low-key person. This is the recipes for a lack of content BUT that does not excuse people who are being weird to her or think she's in the way of any ships etc etc.

BUT

Narratively speaking all of those things above make for perfect storytelling. (below the cut I go deep into Jaiden character I mean I go DEEP)

Even though Jaiden has the support of the whole island. At the end of the day- she goes back to that same house. Climbs to the very top and she fall asleep on the chair facing the sunset. This means that everyone else has moved on, especially Roier. She is forever stuck in that same place.

I can't be the only one who noticed every single stream, she logs out at the house. BY HERSELF (I think Roier built? Someone corrects me if I'm wrong.) It's so subtle that you wouldn't even notice it at first.

When asked where she was living by Etolies. She doesnt say her and roier house, she doesn't even say where bobby use to live. She specifically says " I am squating in Roier old house". She puts herself on the outskirts of what is further from the truth. Shes not squating in roier house im 100% sure Roier shares everything with her. It is her home too!

Next when it came to the marriage between cellbit and Roier. She was surprised that she was even invite. Its as if as soon as Bobby died all her friendships and relationships died with him. No matter how many people are around her she has this ice wall of isolation and deep lonely-ness.

Her grieiving is less theratical than Charlies its so sudtle that you can miss it. While Roier throw himself into drink and into a relationship. (Which has admitedly worked out in his favor. He gets a husband a new son, a world of love. Something that can lessen the sting of Bobbys death.)

Jaiden on the other hand threw herself into a a impossible task, "protect the eggs." She doesn't know anything about any group or fractions. That is her only wish and the federation saw that and picked her to use. She has nothing everyone else has seemingly moved on of course. They haven't stopped investigating but they death of Bobby mostly everyone has moved on. Besides Jaiden this is her driving force so no one will suffer like she did. (on a side note her and Charlie should team up for lore and to both work for the federations.)

ITS PREFECT! Oh are you greiving has everyone else seemingly moved on? Your friendly neighborhood bear has a book full of instructions. Don't think, I'll guide you.

Before it fell apart the federation was going to secretly use Jaiden and she was going to do everything alone. But because Jaiden can't keep a secret to save her life. This leads to everyone realizing how at risk Jaiden is at being used. They are all with her in an instant. But part of her character is now that she sides with the Fedration and no one sees it yet. While everyone else think they are the bad guy. Her story is shifting because cucurucho is there, because cucurucho is nice to her, because Jaiden is cucurucho favorite.

She is being drawn in whether she knows it or not to be om their side. Think of it this way-

Fit is team: Spy thats off the island

Cellbit and Crew are team: AntiFederation

Jaiden the one that is left alone is the perfect choice to slowly pull her onto the federation side. It's perfect! The self isolation, the want to connect but feeling like she can't. It would be so easy for someone to take advantage of that.

[door]

my friend asked me for murder show recs and i put together a list of a bunch of them and thought i'd also share it here in case anyone else who was not raised by the glow of mystery! on pbs might want an intro. extremely subjective commentary, obvs. enjoy.

hello. welcome to the world of finding television shows about people getting killed comforting. it's fucked up, but who isn't. here's a list of the ones i like and why and where to watch them.

midsomer murders (1997-current): this is one of those sterotypical "it ran for 25 years and did nearly 18 episodes" british shows. it was adapted from a book series, which are the early eps. they're really fucked up and great imo. the later ones lose that sharpness, but until seasons 20+ i think it's a really solid show. the theme song is performed on a theremin. pluses: every great british actor shows up at least once, incredibly great deaths, lots of hyper niche hobby groups, tom barnaby is the best. minuses: showrunner brian true-may quoted as saying that his version of "english countryside" is entirely white. he was booted from the show at that point, however. i've watched the entire series 2-3 times, except for s5e3 "Ring Out Your Dead" because there's a death in it that i found particularly tragic the first time i watched it and have no desire to revisit it (but ymmv). robyn's fave ep is s3e3 "Judgement Day," because a brass band plays the show's theme song at a village fete and also Orlando Bloom is run through with a pitchfork. (ACORN)

Poirot (1989-2013): truly the goat. David Suchet bodies this role. i don't know how familiar you are with christie, but hercule poirot was her recurring detective character, a fastidious little belgian living in 1930s England. in this show, it's the late 1930s for 20 years, and the sets and costumes are so good. not a single streamline moderne property in england is overlooked. the early episodes are short--40ish minutes each--but they transition to 90 minutes at some point. they adapt all of the poirot books, with the big ones--murder on the orient express and death on the nile--done as higher budget tv movies. (BRITBOX)

marple (2004-2013): another christie adaptation, with 2 actresses playing miss marple in sequence. they also adapted a bunch of non-marple stories to have miss marple in them. set post-WWII, mainly countryside english mysteries. (BRITBOX)

miss fisher's murder mysteries (2012-2015, film in 2020): set in 1920s melbourne, mfmm follows independently wealthy private eye phryne fisher. it's an adaptation of modern novels, so it's less conservative than the christies. phryne's best friend is a suit-wearing lesbian doctor. it's a sharp, smart show, and phryne herself (as well as her relationship with buttoned-up detective jack robinson) is very sexy. it ran three seasons and was followed by a crowd-funded film in 2020, which isn't GOOD, but it is FUN. there's another a spin-off set in the 1960s called miss fisher's modern mysteries, which follows phryne's niece. again--not good, but fun. nothing beats the og series tho. (ACORN)

lewis (2006-2015): this is technically a spin-off of the inspector morse series, which started in the 80s, but i've never watched it so you should be fine. this follows very un-academic inspector lewis and his very academic assistant DS hathaway in EXTREMELY academic oxford england. i really dig the pacing of this, as well as how profoundly weird smart people can be. the big downside is the actor who played hathaway is laurence fox, who's a real stinker of a dude. right-wing, racist, etc. so. ymmv. (BRITBOX)

vera (2011-current): vera is a nearly retired, irascible, set in her ways detective in northumberland. she heads her own department, so part of the appeal is definitely trim youngsters dashing to do her bidding with a "yes mum." she drives a huge old land rover, wears a raincoat everywhere, has no patience for class barriers, and in short i love her. in the newer seasons there is also a detective in her squad called Jaq who is a very cute butch. (BRITBOX)

dalgliesh (2021-current): adaptation of pd james novels following detective-poet adam dalgliesh. set in the 1970s, which sets it apart and which i quite enjoy. his character is really sensitive and thoughtful is a way that's unusual for cop shows. (ACORN)

annika (2021-current): i'm gonna dive into some of the weirder ones now. annika is still pretty serious, but the title character has a habit of breaking the 4th wall to loop the audience in on the meta nature of her thoughts--usually relating to a book or story. it's set in glasgow and they investigate marine crime specifically. annika is played by nicola walker, who full disclosure i find VERY attractive. she's norwegian, she's odd, and she's trying her best. she has a teenage daughter who's gay. (PBS)

queens of mystery (2019-current): this one is VERY odd. think british murders meets pushing daisies. there's a narrator, and occasional technicolor flights of fancy. it follows a very serious detective who was raised by her three aunts after her mother was killed. she comes back to work in her home town and has to navigate both sides of her life, plus still wanting to know who killed her mother. production was interrupted by covid, so the main actress changed between seasons, but the new person is also very good. (ACORN)

brokenwood mysteries (2014-current): this one is sort of...sillier than the rest? it's a new zealand show set in a small town. it's fairly queer (although not nearly queer enough), and one of the things i love the most about it is it maintains a roster of recurring characters (which i think is only possible because of the small size of the NZ film industry). pretty good maori rep, especially jared, a local who seems to know or be related in some way to everyone in town. i adore him. he's off the show now, and i miss him. (ACORN)

mcdonald & dodds (2020-current): set in bath, this is an odd couple partnership of an ambitious young cop lately from london and a shy older cop who has lived in bath all his life and hasn't seen action in a decade. their interactions are funny and lovely, and it's refreshing to see a black woman character allowed to be ambitious. (BRITBOX)

[novamariestark]

Safe & Sound - Tallahassee [Part 1]

Summary: You, a former high school teacher, now has to survive day to day after the world went to hell. There's nothing you wouldn't do to protect your 5 year old son and your teenage niece. Nothing.

Warnings: Brief mention of suicide, indirect murder (but they deserve it dw), slight suggestion "Men are animals" during an apocalypse, proofread but Casper's unfriendly cousin edits it after I post it 🤣

Word count: 2991

Fandom: Zombieland

Pairing: Future Tallahassee x Reader

It had been a long journey so far. A few months doesn’t seem so long but when every single day of those months is a never-ending fight for survival, it’s kinda draining.

How did this even happen? A few months ago, you were a teacher. The worst thing you had to deal with was grading homework. The biggest threat to your son was getting hit by a car. Now you constantly worry about keeping him safe and what would happen to him if something were to happen to you. He was still just your baby. Your innocent little Bear, who would not go to high school, who wouldn’t graduate. Instead, he has to live in constant fear even though he tries to be brave, you can still see the fear in his big brown eyes.

He had seen things. Things an 5-year-old should never see. The other member of your group had also seen things. Some a little more scarring than your son. Your niece. The second things went to shit, you packed up your essentials and got your son the hell out of there. You headed towards your sister’s to be with them but when you got there, it was too late. They had joined the army of the dead.

You did something you never thought you’d do. Killed your sister. And also, your brother-in-law. Sure, you had thought about smacking him and strangling him many times, but you never thought you’d actually swing a bat at his head multiple times. The only thing that offered you comfort was when you found your niece hiding in the attic.

She was shaking when you found her. Her cheeks were stained with wet lines, her eyes red and drooping slightly. You wrapped her in your arms and promised her it was going to be okay, even though you had no idea if it would be. She had only just turned sixteen. Before all of this, her biggest concerns were makeup, boys, and arguing with your sister about curfew. Now, she was forced to leave behind her childhood as well. Just like Bear.

The three of you had hit the road together, with nothing but the clothes on your backs and whatever supplies you could scrounge up. You couldn’t look at her for days without seeing your sister’s face—without seeing her like that. Like an animal who’s only thought was food. And you had put her down like an animal. You felt like her blood was stained on your hands, and it’ll never wash off. Never.

But you had to keep going. You didn’t have the luxury of falling apart anymore.

It wasn’t long before you encountered another group of survivors, about three weeks or so, however, they were the kind you never want to encounter. One thing that you had told yourself was that you would not allow yourself, or the kids to lose their humanity.

But what the hell are you supposed to do when a group of sick men want to “play” with your teenage niece? In your mind, they signed their own death warrants.

There were four of them, and it was clear they didn’t see you or her as people—just objects.

You told her to take Bear and wait in the car and they were very annoyed that you had sent her away, claiming they weren’t “done with her yet”

“Oh no, you’re done,” you corrected, but you meant in a completely different way. You reached into the waistband of your jeans to grab a gun you had scavenged from a car not long back. You raised it at them, and they just laughed at you like you were just a stupid girl.

“Now sweetheart, don’t wanna hurt yourself now do ya?” one of them asked, you aimed the gun lower, and shot him in the leg. Quickly, you shot the others in the leg. As soon as the bullet tore through their flesh, their smiles dropped as quick as their bodies.

You kept the gun trained on them as you backed away toward the car. As quick as you could before you changed your mind. You always told yourself you’d never kill a human, but what if there was a young girl travelling alone? What if they did something to her because you didn’t do this? But then again you weren’t the one killing them, were you? All you did was ring the dinner bell 4 times for any zombie within hearing distance. Did that count. Besides, leaving them to whatever zombies would come sniffing around felt like a fitting end for them. Turning into a piece of meat, just like how they looked at your niece.

Their mouthy leader writhed on the ground, screaming, sneering through the pain. “You’re gonna regret this!”

“No, I won’t,” you said a smirk appearing on your face, similar to the ones that they wore. You winked at them, “But you will.”

The leaves, branches and rocks crunch beneath your boots as you continue to back away, your finger still gently resting on the trigger in case any of them tried something. You finally reach the car, and get in. Your son and your niece, huddled up in the back seats.

“What if they follow us?” your niece asked, her arms still wrapped around your son to comfort him but also to comfort herself.

“They won’t, don’t worry,” you said, turning the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life, “They’re done,” you added as you began to drive off.

Had this world seeped into your brain? Was the inhumanity already taking over your body? Was evil coursing through your veins? These questions bounce around your mind as you drive, and drive. Towns, cities, states whizzing in just a blur. You only stop for the toilet and gas.

You had a destination. Your parents.

They lived in Fresno, California and you hoped that they were still alive. You had just under an hour left until you got there and it seemed the closer you got, the more your stomach started to churn. As though it was trying to tell you something.

When you got to your parents street, everything looked normal but it was eerily silent. No cars, no children playing in the street, no dogs barking. Nothing.

You told them both to stay in the car and keep their heads down. You closed the door as quietly as you could as not to alert anything that could be near. Your hand resting lightly on the gun in your waistband. The walk to the front door felt like an eternity. Each step feeling heavier than the last.

You reached for the door handle, twisting it softly until it uncoupled from the doorframe. The hinges creaked in protest, and the faint smell hit you immediately—a smell you had come to know all too well. Death. Maybe they just took out a zombie, you told yourself.

You called out to them softly.

Nothing.

"Mom? Dad?" You spoke a little louder, the hand that rested on your gun shaking slightly.

Still nothing.

You moved further into the house, heading towards their bedroom. You had a bad feeling. The front door was unlocked. They wouldn’t do that. So either they weren’t here or… they were gone.

The door was slightly ajar, leaving you enough room to peak through and see what you had been dreading. You stepped in fully and saw them. Your parents, lying in bed, hands clasped together.

You couldn’t hold it, you collapsed to the floor, gun tumbling out of your hand. You crawled towards the bed, and climbed up to sit beside them. From here, you could see what had happened. Your mother was bit, but your father had the strength to kill her before she turned but after he did, he took her hand and killed himself too.

You felt numb. They were gone too. You wanted nothing more than to be with them but you couldn’t. You had Bear and Blue Bell. They needed you. They depended on you. Their survival depended on you.

You wiped your tears and moved to grab your gun off the floor. You picked up a necklace and a watch from the table in their room. The watch you knew your father wanted Bear to have when he grew up, and the necklace something to remember your mother.

They’re okay you told yourself, they’re together. They’re at peace, not having to worry about this world anymore. At least that’s what you were going to keep telling yourself so you didn’t completely shut down.

As you walked out, you stopped by the spare bedroom, in there, was a teddy bear that Bear always slept with when he was there.

With one last look around your home away from home, you left. Closing the door, leaving it as untouched as possible. It was after all, the closest thing your parents would get to a grave.

As you walked back the car, you wiped your eyes, hoping to get rid of the evidence of your crying, but as you got in, Belle’s question told you that you had failed.

“They’re with mom now, aren’t they?”

You couldn’t speak, you just nodded and started the car. It was getting late, you needed to find a place to crash. There was no way you could sleep in that house.

You did have an idea. Since you were in California, why not crash in style.

“Ever heard of Bill Murray?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Bear’s face scrunched up. “Who?”

“Who you gonna call?”

Bear’s eyes lit up, his face breaking into a big smile as he yelled, “Ghostbusters!”

You looked at Belle in the mirror and she gave you a small smile which you return.

It wasn’t long before you were driving down the winding road that led to the sprawling mansion you’d only seen in movies or on TV. The gates were open, rusting slightly—probably from neglect since everything went to hell. You hoped the place would be empty, but even if it wasn’t, there was a good chance Bill Murray wouldn’t mind. Hell, in a world like this, you doubted anyone would care anymore.

As you pulled up the long driveway, the mansion loomed ahead of you, grand and eerie against the backdrop of a setting sun. You parked the car and glanced back at Belle and Bear.

“Stay close,” you instructed, your hand sitting on the gun resting on your side. The three of you stepped out of the vehicle and approached the mansion. Bear clutched his teddy bear, his small hand gripping your sleeve, while Belle hovered closely at your side, her eyes scanning the enormous house in front of you.

You pushed the door open cautiously, revealing a spotless interior. The furniture looked untouched, and grand portraits lined the walls like sentries guarding the home. A soft laugh escaped your lips, barely audible.

“Welcome to Bill Murray’s house,” you said, your voice carrying a hint of disbelief, “I can’t believe it,”

Bear’s grip on your sleeve tightened, his cute little eyes darting around as he took in the space. You moved through the house, flicking on lights one by one. The mansion felt like it was frozen in time, completely untouched by the mess outside. Bill Murray’s face stared back from movie posters on the walls. Bear noticed one in particular and pointed at it, “Ghostbusters!”

As you stepped into the huge living room, the silence was broken by the soft padding of footsteps from the hallway. You froze. Belle stiffened beside you and Bear pressed against your side, his knuckles white around his teddy.

“Stay here,” you said as you moved in front of them and towards the door where the sound was coming from, your gun free and ready to fire.

From the shadows of the doorway emerged a familiar face. Bill Murray. He stood there, robe-clad, holding a glass of whiskey. His expression was surprisingly warm, as if he hadn’t just stumbled upon three strangers in his home.

“Well, this is a surprise.” His lips curled into a big smile, eyes flicking from you to the kids.

Your mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. You blinked, your brain stuck processing the sight before you.

Bill raised an eyebrow, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “So, you folks just passing through, or did you come to watch Ghostbusters?”

Bear held up the bear as if presenting it and yelled, "Ghostbusters!" His voice echoed through the room. You pressed a hand to your mouth, trying to stifle the laughter bubbling up, but it slipped out anyway. Across the room, Bill Murray’s face softened, and he let out a deep chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in… I thought it’d be empty. You know,” you rambled, you couldn’t believe that out of the small amount of survivors there could be in the world. One of them is Bill Murray.

“We can go,”

“Nonsense,” he said, “You look harmless enough,” he looked at the stuffed bear in your son’s hands and nodded to it, “Except the teddy bear, I’ll have to keep my eye on him,”

If anyone told you 3 months ago that you would be watching Ghostbusters with Bill Murray, you would have thought that they were drunk. But here you were, sitting in his personal cinema, munching popcorn and watching Ghostbusters. With Bill Murray.

It was the first time in a long time that your son and your niece were getting some kind of a normal childhood and to say you were happy was an understatement.

The only thing that could make this even weirder, was that Bill Murray actually dresses up as a zombie to go out and do things, like golf. and he did this quite regularly.

You had now been there about a week and he was perfectly fine with you staying there, you had thought he’d want you gone by the next day but no. Perhaps you were better company than his zombie friends.

What neither of you expected, was human visitors. One actually attacked Bill Murray, but in her defence, he was dressed as a zombie and moaning like one, so, kinda his own fault. Another was a huge fan if his reaction was anything to go by. He was quite attractive, but love was certainly not on your to do list.

But what definitely was not on your list, was wrapping up Bill Murray in a carpet and chucking him off a balcony. Don’t worry, you didn’t kill him. A nerdy nervous boy did. Again. Kinda Bill’s fault. Who would have thought that pretending to be a zombie and stumbling towards an extremely jumpy kid with a gun would end up with a gaping hole in his chest. Oh wait. You did.

You all looked at each other, wondering what happens next. I mean you were there first. You had no problem sharing as long as they weren’t complete assholes. Little Rock and Wichita seemed okay, Colombus seemed like he was going to be that annoying little brother that you couldn’t wait to move out and get away from and Tallahassee… Tallahassee seemed like he was a danger. To your heart. Less than two hours meeting the guy and your heart is already trying to punch it’s way out of your chest, every time he looks at you. Perhaps it was the lack of physical contact.

Ugh, why lie to yourself? You’re horny as hell and this sexy ass cowboy with the most sculpted muscles, possibly by taking down zombies. All you wanted were those arms wrapped around you. You shook your head before the thoughts could get any further and headed towards your room to calm yourself, however, it seemed fate had other plans, because who was lying on your bed? Legs dangling of the side, his shirt lifted slightly so you could see his v-line that you so desperately wanted to trace with your tongue.

“W-what are you doing in here?”

He lifted his head up to look at where the voice come from, “Lying down?” he said in the form of a question, a slight duh in his tone. I mean it was obvious what he was doing. Were you blind?

No you weren’t, and whilst yes that is an acceptable answer to the question you asked, it wasn’t what you meant, “This is my room,” you clarified, “Well, the one I’ve been staying in,”

“Oh,” he said, groaning as he sits up and gets off the bed, “Sorry,”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, avoiding looking him in the eyes. You looked anywhere and everywhere.

“Those your kids?” he asked, you didn’t think he actually cared, just trying to make conversation to get out of how awkward the situation felt to him.

“My son and my niece,” you responded, he nodded sadly and moved to leave the room, “I’m sorry,”

He stopped and turned to look at you, his eyes squinting as if he were searching for the reason for your apology, “Sorry?”

“That you had to go through that,” you added barely above a whisper. His eyes widened. No one else had figured it out and he hadn’t even told you his son’s name.

“How’d you…”

“Guess?” you finished for him, he nodded as an answer and you shrugged, “Your face when I said he was my son,”

“No one else has figured it out,”

“You mean the wimpy kid?” you asked, and a laugh escaped your lips, you knew you probably shouldn’t laugh but come on, you hadn’t laughed in a while and you freaking deserve it, “I don’t think he’s figured out puberty yet”

Then what followed was quite possible the sexiest sound you had ever heard. His laugh. But then again, you hadn’t heard his moans of pleasure.

Yet…

[A/N] 😁😁 @mariechristine00

[so-many-fandoms-here]

(English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct any mistake you notice <3)

• Characters: Suguru Niragi (kinda ooc), fem!Reader

• Genre: fluff, slight smut at the end

• Warnings: mentions of violence, guns, death and sex

It’s not a goodbye, it’s a see you soon

Part 1 | Part 2

𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼

Your original plan was to surprise Niragi. Your heart beat like it tried to escape your body when you left the airport heading to the trains, and it really started to hurt when you left the train again heading to his old apartment where he used to live with his parents, hoping at least his parents would be there. What if he doesn‘t want to see you? What if he doesn‘t like you anymore? You were so deep in your thoughts that you weren’t even bothered by those weird guys, almost knocking you over because they tried to run away from the police. The last thing you noticed was the sudden fireworks in the middle of the day.

And now you are here. Wherever here is. Yes, you’re in japan but everything is different. The majority of the people who suppose to live here is gone, only few are left but none of them has a single clue what the fuck is going on.

So you walk trough the streets, scared for your life, as you should as you will find out a tiny bit later. Not knowing what to do and afraid of every step you take you decide that you will die a lot faster if you are alone and it’s the best if you find a group of people.

After a few miles you see a ramen restaurant, or more whats left of it. You gently knock on the door, not sure what you wish more for, that someone really opens the door or that it remains closed. You are just about to leave, thinking the building is empty, when the door opens and a woman, not much older than you looks through the crack. „I‘m scared“, you whisper after a while where the woman just stares at you. Then she opens the door completely, asking you to come in.

Maybe she will kill me, you think to yourself, deciding that it isn’t a big issue, since something or someone is probably gonna kill you in this fucked up world anyways soon. Turns out there are a lot of people inside, about twenty you guess. You let yourself sink on a chair and feel how the exhaustion hits you and right after the woman closed the door again she asks: „Do you know anything about this world?“

You tell her what you already know. Something about games and visas that will kill you if they run out but that you haven’t been able to put everything together so that it makes sense. And then the people tell you what they know and a tiny part in your brain wishes that you would have stayed clueless.

The group of twenty has soon become a group of fifteen, then ten, then four and with every death you see, you become colder. At first you saw a person who lived, who loved, who cried, who went to school so they could get their dream job. Now you see corpses, waiting for the time to rot away what makes them look human. It’s not like you don’t care. You know very well that if you get the chance you will break down, cry, scream and throw up but now you have to function. You have to survive to get the chance to break down in the first place.

The last game you played split the group of the remaining four completely. One died, the other doesn’t want to leave the corpse and the last one just disappeared right after the game ended. Now you stand here again, alone just like on the first day. Your eyes focused on the corpse of your comrade. You ask yourself if it’s even worth all of it. Is Niragi still alive? Will you ever see him again? Or will you die before you find him or whats left of him?

„Are you alone?“ you turn around to the person who disturbed you in your hopelessness. „Yes“, you say not caring anymore if he would rape or kill you. „Come with me.“ You act like you think about it so that he won’t think you are naive, but you already decided that you will go with him. Everywhere is better than being alone again. „Where are we going?“ you ask after you two already walked for he while. „The Beach“, he says leaving you just as clueless as before. You don’t feel like asking any more questions so you just follow him, hoping he would actually bring you somewhere.

Turns out that The Beach is in fact a resort, now filled with hundreds of people who are trapped here too. The guy brings you to another man, who called himself Hatter and was the founder of this… yeah whatever this is. He explains a bit about how the things roll here. You can eat, drink, sleep, have sex, anything you want as long as you give him the cards you earn when you win a game. Fine with me, you think as you go to the room he gave you the key for. It was almost to good to be true. The only thing you have to worry about now are the games.

Although you were still beyond exhausted after you sleep for at least ten hours, you are too curious about this place to just stay in bed until you have to do the next game. So you stand up, put on a bikini hatter gave you which obviously is part of some weird dresscode, try to memorize exactly where you room is and then you head off towards the pool downstairs.

The pool is full with people laughing, drinking and fucking. Music is playing and everyone around seems to be pretty happy too. It is a bit unsettling seeing laughing people in the situation you’re all in but you also get that they maybe try to ignore it all too. Maybe would cry and scream too when they get the chance too. You look around and see a tiny group of girls about your age sitting on a table so you take all the courage you have and approach them, praying you will find a group again. To your relief the girls are super nice and gladly adopting you into their group.

After a bit chitchat and one way too sweet cocktail you feel yourself easing up a bit and damn, no amount of sleep could have you regain your energy that quickly. After ten hours of sleeping your body may be rested but not your mind. Talking to these girls about normal things, and not the cruel reality and a few sips alcohol really helps to keep your sanity.

You are laughing about a joke one of the three cracked when you first hear steps behind and then feel a presence beside you. The girls are quietly looking at you, almost looking afraid. You try to keep calm. Don’t let whoever is beside you think that you are weak in any sort of way. „Who have we here?“, the mysterious person asks and you freeze. Not because the others did freeze too, not because of the barrel of the gun that digs into your back, it was the voice that makes you freeze. The voice you know better than anyone else’s, even tho it sounds a bit different. „You’re the new one I suppose.“ There was something in the tone that makes him sound insane but you know it’s him. It’s the man you collected from the floor after he got beaten up. The man who you started fights for. The man who bleed over the floor and the sink because his bullies pushed a needle through his tongue. The man who‘s name you moaned when you felt like you and him would mold together. „Suguru?“, you whisper as you slowly turn your heads toward him. He is right in the middle of licking his lips and showing his tongue piercing off when it hits him like a stroke. As fast as possible he removes his rifle from your back, not able to do anything else.

You were already in the middle of thinking about how he doesn’t recognize you anymore when he grabs your wrist and storms off with you. „What are you doing?“, you ask without getting an answer. He drags you along the floors until he stops in front of a door, the one to his room you assume. He unlocks it, drags you inside, closes the door again and presses you against the wall, almost locking you into the corner of the room. Your back hurts because of the edge of the door you’re leaning against.

„What are you doing here?“ he asks, completely out of breath. „I could ask the same“, you reply, overwhelmed with everything that is happening right now. „What are you doing in japan?!“ he asks more specifically this time. Heat rises up to your ears and you can’t look him in the eyes at first, because you were afraid how he would react. Just like when you told him you’re moving away.

„I wanted to surprise you“, you eventually admit, still looking at the floor. „I wanted to go to the apartment you used to live in, hoping at least your parents would be there and that they would tell me where I would find you.“ It takes everything on strength that’s left inside your body but you look up, right into his dark eyes. „I told you it‘s not a goodbye.“ A weak smile appears on your lips but because of Niragis lack of reaction it dies right away. „It’s okay if you are overwhelmed with the situation. I understand. I also understand if you don’t want too see me at all. It‘s just“ As you notice that your voice is about to crack you stop and act like you have to clear your throat before you continue. „I missed you. And I feel dumb to admit it but I hoped you missed me too. I hoped you would still like me.“ After you say it out loud you realize how stupid, how naive it was. You silently wait for Niragi to say something, to scream at you or to kick you out but nothing like this happens. You even expect that he points his gun back against you but he just stands there looking at you with the same shocked expression he has since he saw you ten minutes ago.

You take a breath to say something, not sure what exactly yet but you don’t have to think of any words anyways. First you hear him dropping his gun, then he forces his lips so hard on yours that your teeth clash together. Everything happens in the blink of an eye and you need a second to process everything. As soon as your brain starts working again you place your hands on either side of his face and try to pull him even closer to you. You melt into his arms and you almost forget where you are as his tongue glides into your mouth, dancing with your own. The metal of the piercing, almost as warm as his tongue itself, glides clacking over your teeth. You two part for a second which you take to admire his face. „I knew the piercings would suit you“, you breath, guiding your hand up his head, over the piercings on his eyebrows, then over his nostril and down again, back to his cheek. He laughs quietly and just as he wants to kiss you again someone aggressively knocks at the door.

Niragi, obviously more than annoyed, looks up against the wooden door and yells. „What do you want?“ „You’re still on patrol!“, the voice on the other side of the door answers. „You can fuck that bitch later.“

His annoyance turns into blind rage after the comment of the other guy. He quickly pushes you away from the door, picks up his rifle, opens the door and aims straight at the head of the man in front of him. „Watch out who you call a bitch“, he warns. „It’s rather funny to blow someones brains out.“ With that he turns back to you. „I will pick you up later, that’s fine with you?“ You nod, smiling wide. While leaving you let your hand glide across Niragis upper arm as you pass by, giving him one last grin before you head off to the girls on the pool again.

The girls don’t dare to ask what that was with Niragi and you and so you four continue your chat about everything and anything, acting like nothing happened.

Niragi in the meantime tries to go past the pool as often as possible so he can at least catch a short gaze of you here and there. Today it feels like he is walking for forever around those stupid environment. But then, eventually, they let him go. If his pride wouldn’t be that high he would run to you but instead he tries to act cool even though his insides scream.

With his gun thrown over his shoulder he leans down, his head right next to yours, tongue showing off the piercing, then he whispers: „Let’s head back to my room and continue where we were disturbed. Sounds good?“ You move his hand towards his face, acting like you want to hold him by his chin and sneaky pressing your middle- and ringfinger right at the spot where you assume his main artery. Smiling knowingly about the fact how fast his heart races you stand up and take his hand. This time you are the one that drags him away from the others. As soon as you two were inside the building and no one was near, he suddenly stops and pulls you back to him. „What was that about?“, he asks, not needing an answer. He knows. „Your heart races“, you reply anyways, voice almost melodious.

In his room he makes sure his gun is secured before he throws it next to the bed. Then he grabs both of your hands, sits down and pulls you in his lap. As soon as his hands are all over your body again you realize how bad you missed him. It hits you like a wave and you put all your love and affection into the kisses you shower him with. His lips, his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, nothing is left out as his hands roam over your body. He wishes he could touch you everywhere at the same time and crawl inside you, laying his head on your heart to feel your heartbeat all the time. „Did you had many relationships?“, his voice is shaking a little bit because he’s not sure if he really wants to know. „A few but never something serious“, you answer honestly, then stopping the assault on his neck to look him in his eyes. You see the storm inside them and all the pain he had to deal with alone while you were gone. „What about you?“ „Fucked around a lot. Literally. But never anything serious either.“

While you look at him, he realizes that the piece of his heart that went with you was in good hands. He did expect that when you will hand it back to him, it’s already dead. Stabbed by a knife without you even noticing it was with you the whole time. But here he is. He may be in a twisted world full of murder and slaughter but you are here too. Right here, right now, sitting in his lap so for now he lets The Beach be The Beach, the games be the games and just focuses on the moment right now. Focuses on your lips, your skin, his erection caused by you. „You won’t be leaving me again, you hear?“, he says while letting his hand slips underneath your bikinitop and feeling your bare breast fitting perfectly in his hand. „You‘re mine“, he whispers again. „You’re mine and I’m yours.“ The words seep through your ears into your whole body, leaving goosebumps all over your skin behind.

You reach behind your back, opening the strings of your top and letting it drop to the floor. It didn’t even took five more minutes until you lay under him, his naked body pressed against yours. And you still feel his heart racing. „Are you nervous?“, you ask, being one hundred percent sure he won’t answer honestly. And of curse you are right. „Me? Never“, he lies, chuckling. „Are you?“ You think for a second. „A little bit. You are a whole new man.“ Dark eyes looking down in your own, telling you what he would never say out loud. He changed, but not the way he feels about you.

[dr-xanders-diary]

Our beginning.. loving you..

At first, it was doing the little things for you, learning who you were, what you've done, your past, your history, about your friends, family, how to make you happy-. And every other little detail that made you who you are. Getting you to trust me, to like me, to enjoy our time together, to confide in me, to rely on me, to get you to share your deepest secrets and to love me.

Your secrets are things were nothing new for me, because I already looked into every single little detail about you. I knew you, I know you.

Then it was getting to know who all your friends, family and acquaintances were. Finding out what made them who they were, how to appease them, to make them trust me; at least enough for them to get their nod of approval and not bother us. Things were easy, peaceful, comfortable, we were happy, content, things were perfect. Too perfect.. and that's when-, well we had our first run in. Our first mis-step. John.

God, John was a creep.. and he was only the beginning of our many run ins with misfortune, with our peace being disturbed. God he really was a big problem. Who would have known he would have been missed that much.

During the next few months of the incident with John, everyone in your group of friends, and family and his, were investigated, questioned by detectives. Including-, me. Things had taken an unexpected turn, unfortunately for John. Fortunately despite the intense investigations, things turned from a missing persons case to a murder case when someone in Cancun, reported the several boxes of John. That wasn't helpful, because the police started to dig, they questioned if I knew, he had a collection of your things. If that bothered me.

Of course it did, of course I knew, but I wasn't going to let them know that. I acted surprised at the mention of the collection of your things. I played the part.

For half of the case they assumed all the men in our circles that hung out regularly and not so regularly were to blame, of course they came out empty handed with our group. Finally the police started to looked outward from our humble circle, but the case ended as a cold case, a freak mystery murder. His family had a service for him, people cried and spoke words over an mostly empty coffin and then life continued as it had before.

Seeing you conflicted with hurt, grief, and confusion over his death and motives hurt me; you shouldn't have found out about his obsession, his death was one thing but the obsession added a rather complicated layer for you. I should have protected you better from this. But later much more concerning things began happening, one of your once friends came back into the picture and one night while everyone was drunk, she accused me. While she and I sat on the couch, you and your friends were in the kitchen of your apartment laughing and drinking. She accused me of getting rid of John, and she wasn't wrong but jesus. Even you didn't have such a twisted imagination. She painted me as a monster while we sat alone on that couch.

And maybe-, maybe she wasn't wrong. Maybe I am a monster.

I wasn't going to admit anything, I laughed it off as best as I could, I acted hurt at that accusation. But that wasn't the end of it. She was very observant, she mentioned how she thought she saw a face in Johns apartment window, when you all were in the cab, how my fist was cut and bruised the next day, how I was sore the next day.. How the police mentioned the broken mirror in Johns bedroom, and his sick obsession with you.

Fuck she's onto me. She's too smart, too observant.

And then.. she laughed and shook her head, "As if you could have killed him, I mean look at you, you're not that strong." I raised my brow a bit, "I'm not very strong, I can barely lift ***** (you)" and we laughed. I knew she played off being drunk and non-observant, but I knew better, she was on to me. My options were limited, darling. You have to understand. Either I play it off, and make sure I change her mind about me, prove I'm innocent.

Even though I'm not.

Or, prove her right, and kill her. And since that night at Johns' apartment, I have had a rushing bloodlust. Now now-, I make sure to keep myself in check. I only get rid of people that are dangerous to you, to me, to us. To keep you safe. To keep us safe. Now I know, not everyone is smart enough to figure it out. But she was. And she was a threat to us, she proved it, trying to seduce me, trying to play it off as bringing me along with her for errands to her apartment. Saying she had surprises for your birthday. The way she cupped my cheek when she walked me back to the front door of her apartment, leaned in and whispered in my ear. "I know you ******* (X). We're the same.. And **** (y/n) will never, make you happy."

This bitch.

I turned my face away as she leaned in to kiss me, dodging her attempt as I turned away to get out of the apartment. And then she said it. "I know you killed John. I know you were the face in the apartment window. I know that you beat him and sent him in those boxes.. I know because, we're the same. You and I. So you're going to do as I say, or I tell everyone." That snap from that night, something clicked in me again. My hands shook, adrenaline began flowing into me at her words as I turned to face her. My voice came out shaky and hoarse as I spoke. "No.. you're wrong. You and I, are not the same. And you wont be telling anyone." We came to an agreement of sorts after that. A very violent agreement. "Sorry Beatrice, you can't make me happy, how ****(y/n) does".

I had no other choice. You have to understand, darling. She was dangerous, too dangerous. You see, it isn't like someone, like me, can't co-exist with someone else like me. It's that we can't co-exist if we are after the same person, or they're after me when I have you; and they're dangerous. I wont allow anyone to come near you, when I am in the picture, they would have to kill me, first. And that has proven to be a difficult task..

Hours later that day I finished wiping any trace of me being at Beatrice's' apartment. I made sure I took her phone for a run, for her GPS' tracking. This time, I was much more careful, I made sure that nothing would be traced back to me, or anyone. It will be a freak accident- really. After all, how did she end up where she did?

Interesting route to take for a run, Beatrice.

The following months after her services, things finally began settling down. Our life began to become normal again, finally. But our sex life, it was struggling. You just started to change. Was it me? Was it our routines? Then I remembered something I saw in your history that you've been looking at, and I couldn't help myself, I had to hold in my excitement.

You naughty- ***

You had started to look into BDSM, and k!nks. My oh my, your interests have changed, darling. How exciting, how exhilarating. One thing that didn't excite me as much, was your interest in being dominant, but- because it's you, I'm willing to open up. We can talk about it after all. I'd never turn you down, after all I love you. I took things into my own hands and began learning and researching everything I could, for you, for us. And finally brought up our-, stalemate in our sex life. You were shocked, you were embarrassed, you were shy.

"Hey, no no. It's okay darling, there's no need to be embarrassed. There's no reason to be shy. Everyone goes through their rough patches, sex is no exception." "I mention it so we can check in, so we can figure out what we can do less of and more of, so we can see if something else will put that spark back." "We can spice things up, we can go slow-" I have to make you comfortable, I need you to be able to open up. Of course I noticed you weren't enjoying sex as much, of course I noticed you weren't as perky as before. And I want to help, you are my world. I would do anything to keep you happy.

We talked in depth about your issues, about things that bother you, and about our sex life. How recently it's been harder for you to get off, how the excitement has slowly dulled. How you want to bring back that excitement. And so, we began our journey into k!nk. We started slow, easy, came up with a safe word: star.

Our safe word is: Star. Do NOT forget it, darling.

We started slowly, sitting your bed, facing each other. Your hands on your knees as I blind folded you, your breath shallow as you calmed your nerves. "You're doing just fine darling. Slow breaths in and out.. There you go". I'd say as I reached out to slowly trail my fingers and nails along the bare skin of your thighs, trailing up along your sides. My nails grazing along every inch of your body ever so lightly, as I take in the very view of you sitting in front of me.

God you are a fucking masterpiece. I would burn the world, for you.

Leaning in close to your neck and ear, letting my warm breath tingle down along your neck, watching you shiver lightly as your nipples grew hard. So little has happened, and you're growing ever excited.

God I am so in love with you.

Trailing my fingers up along your chest, tracing small symbols into your skin, spelling out the word; MINE. Before slowly pressing the palm of my hand to your throat. Wrapping my fingers around your neck, one by one, as I carefully guide you onto your back. Excitement is filling us both, neither of us can contain ourselves. But we said we would try new things, and that's what we are doing. That's why we bought; wax candles, a whip, a feather, ropes, handcuffs, and a blind fold. I can't let myself lose control now. Not now, not yet. We've only just begun. And god I have never been happier that you are mine, than in this moment as I tie your wrists together and loosely hook them to the bedframe.

I took my time with you, carefully trailing the feather against your bare skin, with differing pressure. Dripping the candle wax onto your skin, watching it splatter along your abdomen and chest. Watching your chest heaving; rising, as the warm wax hit your skin and you let out low satisfying moans. And finally we got to the main course as I kissed your lips, and littered kisses and soft bites down your body, down your abdomen, and down to your thighs- oh. Trailing my hands along your body, sensitive from the wax- oh. Before lifting your legs as I kiss along and bite your inner thigh, making my way to your- oh. Your breathing hitching as you slightly squirmed beneath me- "Please".

God this is the best, you are the best. And you look so fucking-. Mmm.

Occupying my mouth as I wrapped my lips around your- oh. Flicking my tongue along your- oh. Trailing my hand up along your stomach and chest, only to wrap my hand around your neck- mm. Slowly squeezing to apply pressure. Your hips grinding needily as I squeeze one of your thighs with my free hand. 'I don't think I've seen you as excited as you were in that moment'. Unhooking your tied wrists from the bedframe so you could wrap your arms around my shoulders. We spent hours after that, groaning, moaning, and experimenting, until our limbs tangled with each others. Thrusting and grinding against each other until we were both worn out. Drained of every orgasm in us.

As we caught our breathe laying in bed, I took off your blindfold, and untie the rope about your wrists. Grabbing us cool water to sip on and some wipes to clean you, and myself up. I wrapped an arm around you, and pulled you in close as I thread my fingers through your hair.

"You did so well, my darling. I love you more than you can know. Feel my chest rising and falling as I breathe, slow." "I am so very proud of you." "Was it everything you had hoped? Better? I'm so glad." "It was amazing for me. You were fantastic." "Such a sweet, perfect *** you are" "My darling" "You are such a good- ***" "Anything for you."

We took our time cuddling before your legs stopped shaking, so you could use the restroom and we could shower together. We had dinner, and laid back in bed after, watched a movie before you fell asleep in my arms. Life is good when I have you. Things are perfect when you're mine.

This was just the beginning of.. loving you.

[poketrnt]

because I am god damn sick and tired of ool being an absolute shitstain on my life, I'm gonna finally fucking just say what happened.

step.

by.

step.

the backstory

from around 02.10.2023 to 31.12.2023 I was a part of the group chat known as Epic Gamers, which had two of my friends and a guy I later befriended, those being Furret, Ool and Nexo.

on Christmas Eve a person joined, called Leon. However, a week later, I proceeded to leave the group related to a conflict between me and Leon. I still kept in contact with the three people I was friends with, despite Ool commenting in Epic Gamers about how I should shut up, attaching a screenshot of me trying to give him a normal ass compliment because he was playing a game I find cool

in that time I also had a semi-private server (let's call it Server A for this story, but since Ool trying to avoid a block will read this anyways (and because he said I was making shit up), I'm talking about the server with the Sledgehammer character), where Furret and another friend whom I'll call R were because I was going to test a simple Magic the Noah inspired not-really-chess game made in google slides

also this is the icon I was talking about

2. the god damn incident

on 05.02.2024 Nexo convinced me to try to end the beef between me and Leon. So, I tried to peacefully explain my points of view to Leon, but then I realised I was talking to a brick wall and proceeded to simply state I do not want to talk to him, which just caused him to start saying things that a person reaaally shouldn't say, as seen in the following screenshot, taken directly on that day

soon after I proceeded to go to sleep, but not before glancing at my phone to see a notification of Nexo saying something about an "EG raid" in Server A, when he in fact should not have been there. So, that night I just couldn't fall asleep because of how betrayed by Furret I felt.

as proof of Ool taking part in the raid, here's a screenshot taken by R who was still awake at the time

when I proceeded to wake up in the morning, I saw this message from Furret

losing someone whom I considered a friend up to this point was a heavy blow, but I lost three friends at once AND got trust issues

3. the harassment

so, like 2 weeks after that happened, I decided to go and finally speak up on Twitter, only to find that someone has decided to reply to every single tweet I've made with harassing messages

naturally, I've immediately blocked the person who made those replies, but they soon after made another account, and then another after it got blocked, and another.

later on I've found ool leaving messages on my personal Board Game Blitz wiki how I had used Furret's character (at the time of the character being added to the roster, I was still friends with Furret and had recieved his permission to do it. So, I simply just deleted the message and started planning a completely original character due to not wanting to be associated with Furret. But Ool decided to still harass me with more comments on the wiki, and later he proceeded to also raid some pages.

naturally by that point I was getting sick of all of them, but when I saw Ool and Leon trying to get in contact with me on Steam, for reasons I knew exactly, I decided to react calmly and do what I did before by blocking them both. However, a friend, whom I'll address as A, decided to get to the bottom of why Leon and Ool decided to be such scummy people

it was absolutely ridiculous, with Leon talking about how me saying that both Ool and him get hit by a truck and how I told him that I know 1s and 0s that are more human than him were death wishes. Which like, while the first one could theoretically be an argument, calling the second one a death wish was plain stupid.

also Leon was just trying to turn A against me which failed horribly and just cemented out entire group in the idea that the members of Epic Gamers are horrible people

later on Ool decided to try again on Roblox, because why the hell not, despite the fact he should have gotten the message I don't want to talk to him by then.

and now we're here. The point where Ool decided to invade my only safe place in all of this just to harass me some more and also try to make me look like a bad person

and to Ool, because I know he isn't gonna read through this all and will just skip to the end:

I know your life is pathetic enough that you don't have anything better to do other than harass the girl who you've been friend with at one point, but at least go and play some Minecraft instead of focusing your entire life on hate

[greyminyoon1]

LOST ON YOU

Warnings & Genre- slight angst, minor character death.

Authors note- hey, just something that was rotting in my notes. I am in no means a writer but constructive criticism are welcomed ☝🏼

——-

Funeral homes are never anyone's favorite. definitely not when its one of your own people. a person you had once held so close to heart, maybe not during that moment but you did soon realize the impact of thier presence in your life.

Mr.Jeong was a constant in every students life in Hanseong high school. you would see him by the gate,the corridors, the ground ,the man was omnipresent. students never got how he did it. even with his tough exterior he was one of the most loved teachers. the lack of space in the funeral home would say otherwise.

heesung watch's the crowd die down slowly from the corner of the hall. his eyes shift from the portrait of Mr.Jeong displayed on the wall to the three boys sitting across him. niki doesn't seem to have taken the news too well, his head hanging low with equally exhausted boys on the either side of him. sunoo’s swollen eyes and now puffed face give away the tears hes been trying to hold. jungwon just looks deep in his thoughts but heesung knows thats far from it.

heesung doesn't really know how to deal with their pain, let alone his own. his gaze shifts back to the portrait in front but his attention is taken away from the three boys now sitting in front of it. sunghoon catches heesung staring, returning it with the same intense glare.

---

Flashback

“jeong nim!”

the professor walks to the notorious dozen of students with a slight smile. it was always hard to bid farewell to the students every year especially the set of students who frequently visited detention or seen knee bent outside in the halls with their arms up bickering with one another. Though he thinks this batch would forever have a piece of him. While they bicker over who would be taking the picture first with their favorite teacher, few of them do not let the pooling eyes of their teacher go unnoticed.

“okay, lets stop and take a group picture now” , mr.jeong says blinking away his watery eyes. the eight kids scramble up smiling wide with the teacher in the middle of the frame.

click.

‘seonsengnim i need a single one!’, niki shoves the others away whilst pulling his teacher to another background. “your not even graduating until the next two years, you punk!”

click.

“jae-in ah!”, Mr jeong calls out motioning her to come take a picture with him with a stiff smile

her focus shifts from the subjects on her camera, peeking with a small ,“ aren't you getting too sentimental today seonsegnim?”, earning sinkers from the boys. she hands the camera over to sunghoon, making her way to Mr.Jeong.

click.

“dont forget to send those to me.”

who knew jae-in had plans of getting away with those pictures.

---

Jungwon’s the one who breaks this unsaid game of pride and encourages the eldest to just be civil. thats how the seven boys find themselves in a table drowning themselves in soju. the rooms almost empty, except for the seven boys and few other relatives. the boys looked up at each other once a while but mostly found the soju glass interesting enough to pour their thoughts into. With the past preoccupied on their mind, it was sort of a bittersweet moment.

—-

Flashback

the sound of crashing waves with occasional yells from the boys and the sweet melody of guitar strings fill the space, jae-in sits between sunghoon and jay watching rest of the boys play in the sea. she likes the feel of sand slipping away from her fists, mindlessly repeating the act while watching the boys. Sunghoon sits on her left drawing shapes on the sand as jay plays his guitar on her right.

“dinner is on me.” jae-in says in a monotonous tone. “your part-time jobs must be treating you well finally”, Sunghoon snickers while dusting off his hands and stands up to stretch.”im gonna take a dip, you both should join”, he knows very well you wont while his other friend may eventually. The pair watch him jog his way to the boys.

“is something up?”, Jae-in doesn't show how much that question affects her, answering him back with a question again, “what would be?”.

Jay has stopped playing the guitar, his one arm thrown over the instruments body while his other still hold the chords. Jae-in thinks about how fitting he looks with this instrument, maybe them joking about him becoming someone famous or getting into a band dint seem too far off.

Jay’s mind is preoccupied with what he had witnessed last night, the goons you were pouring drinks for seemed to be too familiar with your name for his liking. He never doubted you on your self defense skills, just maybe sometimes you should know to lean on someone, mentally. But when he looks at you at this moment, chocolate hair flowing with the wind, an oversized jacket which most definitely is from one of the boys and your bored eyes looking at him, He stutters.

“ju-just because”. He doesn't have it in him to question you further.

He should have.

He should have asked when you offered to take a dip in the sea.

They should have asked when you started recording every moment of the day.

They should have asked when you raised a toast on the dinner table.

They should have asked when you smiled a bit too wide.

They should have asked before you left.

They would have. you were just too convincing.

—-

They were all in a room, together yet so far apart on their train of thoughts.

The ticking of the clock passed by seconds to minutes to an hour or two, the empty room now consisting of only the boys. The tube lights flicker while the janitor mops the floors for the last time after a long day. It was a que for the boys to leave.

The clicking of boot soles grab the attention of the seven boys. Black sunglasses, black hanbok covers the new identity. Jae-in did not expect anyone to be here, let alone the seven boys she has never seen for the past few years. Or just maybe she was willing to try her luck.

Shes thanks the gods shes worn these ridiculously large glasses,though shes sure it wont take long for one of them to know.

Its almost plausible how the boys don’t recognize her immediately. to say the boys were shocked was an understatement. if the air was solemn and sad all this while, now the room felt as if it were was lacking of air circulation.

she acts plain, just another person to bid her goodbyes to. but Mr.Jeong wasnt just any person to her. Midst all the silent chaos in the room she makes her way towards her only family.

Mr.Jeong‘s portrait smiling at her doesnt help the guilt shes been bottling up. for all the things he had done for her in high school to even the last moments of his death. your uncle told you he would never resent you though you did not know if you had the ability not to resent yourself.

After what seems like an eternity of time and memories flashing back, Jae-in knows what she has to face as she turns towards the exit.

“i really dont know if we should be happy your alive or rip your hair off right now.”, niki’s coarse voice echo's off the hall.

[deathlygristly]

So I've seen all sorts of discourse about That One Post going around. If you haven't seen it yet: a dude said he got into the alt-right because he saw weird people online being weird about dudes and it made him upset and the alt-right was like hey bro we got you. It was very much written in the style of someone who perhaps had not completely left the cult. It made everyone upset in all directions.

Most of the basic positions have shown up on my dash, and I've only unfollowed the people who get really mad about other people being like hey I see people being weird online all the time and it hasn't made me a fascist, and/or who get really demanding about how somehow we are all personally responsible for controlling the language of all the trolls in all the various leftish leaning cults online but trolls from rightish cults can say whatever they want and that their existence is our fault for not controlling the posts of every single leftish troll on the internet.

My biggest takeaway at the moment is that deradicalizing strangers online is not a job I can do. I guess it's the autism or maybe the growing up without ideology but I really don't get...well, any part of the discussion I've seen.

Like I texted the spousal person earlier about how neurotypical people talk about gender and how it makes me wonder if they're a different species from a different planet. What do clothes and hobbies and interests and emotions have to do with gender?

But then I am married to a guy in his 40s who happily and autistic special interest-ly watches Korean romcoms and who knew all the kpop girl group songs they were playing at the grocery store and who once said he doesn’t feel like he has a gender.

I don’t know, having really weird and esoteric rules about what you and other people can do and being vicious about enforcing those weird made up rules is just….alien to my life and experiences. Why would you care about what other people do if they’re not hurting other living beings?

I guess that’s the main thing. As far as I can remember, my brain has always thought, “Hurting others is wrong.” I don’t think I can recall ever thinking “I should hurt these others because a group of humans told me to.” Or needing to never encounter another human displaying common human behavior like being angry and hateful online in order to not become angry and hateful myself.

Also everyone is saying that it’s about feelings and group membership and that just stating facts won’t work, so that’s me out then. I don’t understand group membership at all and I really don’t understand choosing to believe things that aren’t true because of emotions. I don’t mean that in a rightish cult “Facts don’t care about your feelings” way. I mean it in a “My feelings desperately care about facts” way. In a “It took years and years of work plus an escitalopram prescription for me to not hate myself to death if I found out I had said or believed something that was false” way. In a “Perceiving the best approximation of reality that humans are currently capable of is a core moral tenet for me” way.

Don’t hurt other living beings and do your best to understand reality as clearly as possible are the rules my brain came up with in the absence of rules imposed from outside. Those rules feel like…Me. Like What I Am. I don’t think I can phrase things in words that will change the beliefs of people who are so different from me that I would need a universal translator to have any hope of communicating with them.

Like I’ve said before, all I can do is accept and not judge people for their pasts if I see sufficient evidence that they truly have changed and are doing things to repair the damage they did. Getting them to the point of doing that, as opposed to accepting them afterward…that’s not something I can do, no matter how much people scream angrily online and judge and shame others about it.

[rotten-vivs]

1, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 10, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 22, 24

choose violence ask game (life series edition)

oh my god, this is gonna be a bit long lmao, bear with me

1. the character everyone gets wrong

tango, i have rarely seen people get him just right. he's one of those characters that unfortunately gets molded into whatever the fandom needs him to be. dont blame them, i can admit i also struggled to have a good grasp of his character at first

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

i saw someone rant about how scott and cleo were just merciless bullies against pearl. which yeah, they were pretty mean to her, but the person didn't even attempt to understand scott and cleo's motivations. i know it doesn't seem much, but as someone who has a passion for that series's characters and their motivations it pissed me off that they were just ignored

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

the person from the question above lol. i rarely block accounts (unless they're bots), but the post i mentioned had very disgusting vibes

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

solidaritek shippers who talk shit about flower husbands. and the opposite too, but i've seen that one more. let jimmy be loved by two people for fuck's sake!!

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

"dogwarts were the good guys actually" NO THEY FUCKING WERENT. watch the crastle or jimmy and scott (especially those two), dogwarts tried to forcefully take over all groups at one point. im not saying they were evil, they had understandable motivations...but that doesn't make them "good". i think this opinion popularized as pushback from "desert duo are the good guys" opinion (which is also wrong lol)

9. worst part of canon

the limited life ending, im sorry. not because martyn "played dirty", if anything that made the ending way better than it would've been. but the lead up from all three final perspectives were a bit underwhelming

10. worst part of fanon

sometimes people give too much power to the watchers to the point they take away autonomy from the characters. they are WATCHERS. they watch, not play. yes they put the players in the situation, but the players themselves are the ones putting the show

13. worst blorboficiation

i dont know if worst, but lizzie. she tends to be very dumbed down and infantilized. as if she didn't kill as boogey multiple times by making people trust her. dont get me wrong, she is chronically confused, but she is not a sweet innocent angel too fragile for this world

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

i really dont know anything about hermitcraft so there might be a reason for it, but i see a lot of fics that make that server the "safe haven/place of healing in between life games". i dont really watch hc, so whenever i see it in fics and they reference stuff from that server i go ???. not complaining of course, i just try to pick up the context clues and use the general fandom knowledge i gathered through osmosis

15. that one thing you see in fanart all the time

y'know, i still don't know what those things that people put on pearl's head are. they look like bunny ears, or two feathers sticking out. something i also see a lot is all the winners in stained glass windows, sometimes in a "Hall of Winners". i dont know where it came from, but i eat it up every single time, i love it

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

not a fan of romantic smalletho. i tried, the idea of them is fun, but they're just besties in my brain

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

ender skizz!! his 3L red skin is so iconic. also more team best as superheroes. they called themselves the heroes of the server, dress them up as that

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

i dont see people referencing cleo's almost death by tree suffocation on the first episode of third life, even though they were so many perspectives of it. narratively, it was the first time that they saw death as a possible threat. outside of the story, it was so fucking funny. they were all chilling and suddenly, tree

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

i'll be honest, im not the biggest smut fan. i'm not against it, but i dont really get the appeal. i won't turn away an E rated fic if im interested on the concept of the overall fic, but i dont actively search them. i will say...treebark smut is always so well fucking written. the love, the devotion, the yearning, the desperation, the craving. treebark enjoyers can write a good sex scene, and you can quote me on that

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

bigb was jealous of ren and martyn in double life. he says it, out loud, multiple times. there's so many angles you can go with this and so much potential. there's the treebark angle of course, but there's also how bigb used that to avoid responsibility from having a secret soulmate behind ren's back. tbh ren and bigb's relationship overall is way too ignored for literally being the most interesting soulmate pair

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

a bit more overall mcyt than life series fandom, but any boundaries discourse, especially shipping for some reason. i have a lot of opinions, but overall i think we should stop fucking talking about "boundaries" so much. boundaries assumes a two-way interaction. and unless i am tagging the cc or putting stuff on their chats/comments or on knowingly frequented tags, what i am posting does not need their permission. does that mean "post everything, have no morals"? fuck no, but that is really the responsibility of each person. if i don't think something should be posted on the internet, i won't do it. if i see people posting that stuff, i will mute/block/report (if needed). you know what we shouldn't do? bring attention to uncomfortable shit to ccs when they are live (aiming this directly to the 2 donos in the last couple of weeks that have asked scar what his boundaries on shipping is, which he either truly doesn't understand or is purposely avoiding to reply). anyways, always causes rancid discourse and at worst full on witch hunts for shit that really doesn't matter

[sleepyelliee]

poker face.

୨♡︎୧

before you continue!

GN READER, contains violence, cussing, catholic guilt, READER IS NOT RELIGIOUS, implied death, robbery, killing, arson, brief mentions of property and starvation, implied grief, implied trauma, racism, sexism. Loosely proofread, lmk if I'm missing a label. no 'y/n' just 'you.' flirtations towards reader, reader is an adult.

credits....

this is not a jack story ! this is actually for one of my friends, @creamqueen, everything that is mentioned below belongs to them - drawings, personality, etc. you should definitely check her out, she is such a sweet girl and her art is actually god-blessed.

"Damn it! you fucking bitch!"

It wasn't uncommon hearing the gang that you recently joined cuss each other out whenever they played poker, blackjack, or finger fillet. Almost every morning you would wake up to the sound of bill or micah smashing their fists into the wood of the table couple feet away from you whenever they lost a game.

You rub your eyes, an attempt to wake up faster but only met with the glimpse of the sun shining before you, causing a reflection of the past two months that you ponder on for some moment - how somehow your mansion and luxurious life got taken away from you, all the golds and diamonds you would pour on yourself vanish to complete ashes as it all got burned down. Now, you were sleeping on the ground with a flimsy tent giving you a sense of protection, or trying to as you are now stuck in a gang of outlaws or low-life men - your father would claim.

You knew the reason why you were living from all riches and luxury to hiding out from the law with a group of men and women, something your mother won't condone, nor wanted for you but she decided to marry a liar who scams people.

Everything eventually catches up one day, and it was sadly you - loosing everything due to your fathers past actions with his....clients, per se. A part of you thought about reporting it to the law but either way, your family reputation would drop and yours would too. You knew the outcome behind it, and your fate is running from the law and trying to get along with killers.

As you pull yourself up from the rocky ground that was covered with a thin blanket that was supposed to ease off some of the back pain seems to be lacking its job with all the pain you feel in the back, every morming.

After two months of riding with these folks, you thought only a couple of them were decent - hosea, charles and young lenny along with the women. You believed arthur, john, dutch and breanna were cold-heartless killers, afterall you seen them shoot people between the eyes without any hesitance or doubt when they do it. Personally, you never seen micah or bill kill someone like that, but those two individuals were equally infuriating to deal with.

You were already used to the teasing comments about being a "rich-snob" from almost all the gang members, the only man who was...okay was javier - a mexican man who seems to be going through some guilt of some kind, you thought he was trying to seek salvation when you first met him but those thoughts quickly faded away as you observed the gang more and more.

You noticed how Javier and Breanna have some type of chemistry, perhaps it was due to the racism they faced, guilt...or that damn scarasm that they always give you whenever you walked past them.

Breanna wasnt the worse gang member out there, she was good at a lot of things, killing people - that thought made you scoff. She was a sharp shooter, a money maker due to how she manages to win every single poker game you've watched, and the scars on her face and littered across her body didn't make her less imidating then they did.

You walked towards the table where majority the gang members were crowded, you were ready to be called some petty name again before breanna catches your attention with her name calling.

"hey, c'mere. let me show you how to play or do you think that pretty head of yours is too good to learn?" She snickered, reaching out a hand towards you to pull you down on the wooden stool next to her. You could feel all the gang members eyes turn to look at you, some snickering in the background which caused you to eyeroll.

Breanna continues, "Seems like Bill over here wants to play with a rich snob like you, honey." You already know how this would end, your money getting drained and the constant sarcastic comments escaping that curly heads lips. Breanna turns her head toward Bill giving him a scoff as she reached over the table to retrieve the cards back again, shuffling them for a moment before handing it to you.

You were unsure how to play poker, nor any card games but you were taken back when you felt her hand reach over to pull you closer to her stool, a method of her trying to coach you as you played with the man in front of you.

As you began to start playing, quite unsure with the actions you were currently doing and just hoping for the best, you can already hear that curly heads whispers in your ear as she guides you. Every single word was a way for you to decode an cheat more and more - Breanna prayed you would have at least enough common sense to follow her up in each direction, or she might as well but a bullet into your head - that thought makes her snicker and now she was secretly planning to tease you with that.

Sometimes you didn't appreciate her sarcasm and she knows it, which is all the furthermore she continues to do it.

...

Soon enough, the game began to close up and she gave you a further instruction, leading to you completely draining out bill's wallets. The man stood up and banged his money onto the table, walking away as a grumble escaped his throats.

Your gaze turned to Breanna, seeing her flash a shit-eating grin. You knew that now that is going to be her latest tease with the rest of the gang members - the rookie of the gang won against bill !

...

You don't know how you managed to be the latest victim of her sarcasm to somehow eventually becoming one of her favorites. She spoke about her relationships with molly and you asked if she was a heterosexual - causing you to get the lecture of her life that she isn't ...."one of them" , she would claim.

Breanna was surprising open about Javier and their whole chemistry. You asked if it was because of guilt, and she didn't hesitate to answer "yes." She spoke about how america is cruel and harsh, indicating that you got it lucky. She spoke about how work unfair, hard and the best thing she could've done was run with the gang.

heyy!! sorry if this was bad or short, I tried my best to write her since her character completion is complicated, but I hope you enjoyed !!

[manofmanymons]

Ignore me real quick I'm just thinking about something I've already said before again

I still want to understand the phenomenon that is twewy and survive both giving their characters extremely unlikable traits BY DESIGN that are supposed to humanize them/be satisfying to watch them work to overcome but ONLY twewy fans never hating or holding grudges against the characters for it

I have seriously never seen a twewy fan hate neku for trying to kill shiki after she saved him, beat for always picking fights and betraying neku, or even joshua for the being the most insufferable manipulative boy to ever have lived and also murdered people

In fact they're like three of the most popular characters in the fandom across both games even though (other than beat) they were barely even IN the second one

Hell rindo and shoka are like the most unpleasant characters in neo and people love THEM too

-clarification that i love every single twewy character i just described despite insulting the shit out of all of them

But you're telling me people would seriously hold a grudge against ryo for being scared of a giant bug after getting isekai'd onto murder island and being a little bit of a jerk as a coping mechanism

Like is it just because twewy is a standalone game and not part of an existing franchise so the only people who talk about it are the ones who played it and loved it for handing you a group of assholes and saying "now learn why they're like this, empathize with them, and be proud to watch them grow"

I joked before that people should be required to play twewy before being allowed near survive but like actually genuinely why does it feel like twewy fans are more patient, empathetic, and understanding

They'll say "look at my pookie" and it's the crazy guy with the god complex who turned on his friends and trapped a bunch of teenagers in a battle royale for weeks on end because in his defense he was being manipulated

But some survive players can't even handle kaito being Kind of Mean Sometimes like i am not even exaggerating i feel like week 1 neku is worse than him outside of the harmony route and ryo combined and NO ONE cares

Boy was wholly uncooperative, was snappy with EVERYONE, and LEGITIMATELY TRIED TO MURDER HIS OWN PARTNER but does anyone hate him NO because he was a dumb teen who was scared and lashing out after being entered in a crazy death game against his will who learned to open up and trust his friends