#and some others i can't remember at the moment

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Return to office and dying on the job

Denise Prudhomme's bosses at Wells Fargo insisted that the in-person camaraderie of their offices warranted a mandatory return-to-office policy, but when she died at her desk in her Tempe, AZ office, no one noticed for four days.

That was in August. Now, Wells Fargo United has published a statement on her death, one that vibrates with anger at the callously selective surveillance that Wells Fargo inflicts on its workforce:

https://www.reddit.com/r/WellsFargoUnited/comments/1fnp9fa/please_print_and_take_to_your_managersite_leader/

The union points out that Wells Fargo workers are subjected to continuous, fine-grained on-the-job surveillance from a variety of bossware tools that count their keystrokes and create tables of the distancess their mice cross each day:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

Wells Fargo's message to its workforce is, "You can't be trusted," a policy that Wells Fargo doubled down on with its Return to Office mandate. Return to Office is often pitched as a chance to improve teamwork, communication, and human connection with your co-workers, and there's no arguing with the idea that spending some time in person with people can help improve working relationships (I attended a week-long, all-hands, staff retreat for EFF earlier this month and it was fantastic, primarily due to its in-person nature).

But our bosses don't want us back in the office because they enjoy our company, nor because they're so excited about having hired such a swell bunch of folks and can't wait to see how we all get along together. As John Quiggin writes, the biggest reason to force us back to the office is to get a bunch of us to quit:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/sep/26/in-their-plaintive-call-for-a-return-to-the-office-ceos-reveal-how-little-they-are-needed

As one of Musk's toadies put it in a private message before the Twitter takeover, "Sharpen your blades boys. 2 day a week Office requirement = 20% voluntary departures":

https://techcrunch.com/2022/09/29/elon-musk-texts-discovery-twitter/

The other reason to spy on us is because they don't trust us. Remember all the panic about "quiet quitting" and "no one wants to work"? Bosses' hypothesis was that eking out a bare minimum living on from a couple of small-dollar covid stimulus checks was preferable to working for them for a full paycheck.

Every accusation is a a confession. When your boss tells you that he thinks that you can't be trusted to do a good job without total, constant surveillance, he's really saying, "I only bother to do my CEO job when I'm afraid of getting fired':

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/19/make-them-afraid/#fear-is-their-mind-killer

As Wells Fargo United notes, Wells Fargo employees like Denise Prudhomme are spied on from the moment they set foot in the building until the moment they clock out (and sometimes the spying continues when you're off the clock):

Wells Fargo monitors our every move and keystroke using remote, electronic technologies—purportedly to evaluate our productivity—and will fire us if we are caught not making enough keystrokes on our computers.

The Arizona Republic coverage notes further that Prudhomme had to log her comings and goings from the Wells Fargo offices with a badge, so Wells Fargo could see that Prudhomme had entered the premises four days before, but hadn't left:

https://www.azcentral.com/story/news/local/tempe-breaking/2024/09/23/wells-fargo-employees-union-responds-death-tempe-woman/75352015007/

Wells Fargo has mandated in-person working, even when that means crossing a state line to be closer to the office. They've created "hub cities" where workers are supposed to turn up. This may sound convivial, but Prudhomme was the only member of her team working out of the Tempe hub, so she was being asked to leave her home, travel long distances, and spend her days in a distant corner of the building where no one ventured for periods of (at least) four days at a time.

Bosses are so convinced that they themselves would goof off if they could that they fixate on forcing employees to spend their days in the office, no matter what the cost. Back in March 2020, Charter CEO Tom Rutledge – then the highest-paid CEO in America – instituted a policy that every back office staffer had to work in person at his call centers. This was the most deadly phase of the pandemic, there was no PPE to speak of, we didn't understand transmission very well, and vaccines didn't exist yet. Charter is a telecommunications company and it was booming as workers across America upgraded their broadband so they could work from home, and the CEO's response was to ban remote work. His customer service centers were superspreading charnel houses:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/18/diy-tp/#sociopathy

That Wells Fargo would leave a dead employee at her desk for four days is par for the course for the third-largest commercial bank in America. This is Wells Fargo, remember, the company that forced its low-level bank staff to open two million fake accounts in order to steal from their customers and defraud their shareholders, then fired and blackballed staff who complained:

https://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2016/09/26/495454165/ex-wells-fargo-employees-sue-allege-they-were-punished-for-not-breaking-law

The executive who ran that swindle got a $125 million bonus:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2016/09/wells-fargo-ceos-teflon-don-act-backfires-at-senate-hearing-i-take-full-responsibility-means-anything-but.html

And the CEO got $200 million:

https://money.cnn.com/2016/09/21/investing/wells-fargo-fired-workers-retaliation-fake-accounts/index.html

It's not like Wells Fargo treats its workers badly but does well by everyone else. Remember, those fake accounts existed as part of a fraud on the company's investors. The company went on to steal $76m from its customers on currency conversions. They also foreclosed on customers who were up to date on their mortgages, seizing and selling off all their possessions. They argued that when bosses pressured tellers into forging customers on fraudulent account-opening paperwork, that those customers had lost their right to sue, since the fraudulent paperwork had a binding arbitration clause. When they finally agreed to pay restitution to their victims, they made the payments opt-in, ensuring that most of the millions of people they stole from would never get their money back.

They stole millions with fraudulent "home warranties." They stole millions from small businesses with fake credit-card fees. They defrauded 800,000 customers through an insurance scam, and stole 25,000 customers' cars with illegal repos. They led the pre-2008 pack on mis-selling deceptive mortgages that blew up and triggered the foreclosure epidemic. They loaned vast sums to Trump, who slashed their taxes, and then they fired 26.000 workers and did a $40.6B stock buyback. They stole 525 homes from mortgage borrowers and blamed it on a "computer glitch":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/29/jubilance/#too-big-to-jail

Given all this, two things are obvious: first, if anyone is going to be monitored for crimes, fraud and scams, it should be Wells Fargo, not its workers. Second, Wells Fargo's surveillance system exists solely to terrorize workers, not to help them. As Wells Fargo United writes:

We demand improved safety precautions that are not punitive or cause further stress for employees. The solution is not more monitoring, but ensuring that we are all connected to a supportive work environment instead of warehoused away in a back office.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/27/sharpen-your-blades-boys/#disciplinary-technology

[soaringwide]

PAC: What are their current feelings for you?

+ EXCLUSIVE EXTENDED KO-FI READING: Where is this connection headed?

hey :p

I like to do a blend of different types of tarot readings, and I realized I haven't done romantic readings in a while! So today's pick a card is meant to look into your person's current feelings for you.

I will keep this open for any level of closeness, as long as the person [I don't gender you or your person] has a minimum of a bond with you. Also, it is aimed for romantic connections so keep that in mind in case that's not something that's relevant to you.

If you find a pile that resonates, there is an exclusive reading ''Where is this connection headed'' available on ko-fi for members only. You can find more information on this post (or directly on ko-fi).

book a reading ★ ko-fi membership ★ all free PACs ★ pinned post ★ IG

PILE 1

Current energies: 8 of Cups, Seeking Pleasure, 10 of Cups

Currently, I think you are trying to let go of this specific connection. It seems you have been through a lot, and you reached a point where enough was enough, and you refused to take it any longer and decided to try to detach yourself from it.

However, i do think there are still some regrets about what could have been. It's like you're mourning the potential of what this connection could be or could have been, and you're wondering if you're not leaving behind something that could be your ultimate happiness. Many doubts and also perhaps a lack of trust of what else could bring you happiness that is making you cling onto this connection. So yeah, you're a bit stuck between a rock and a hard place at the moment, wanting to move on but also doubting a lot and not closing the door completely. I feel you quite worried and what ifs are swirling in my head. What if you made a mistake? What if you couldn't find something else that was better? What if you regretted it all your life?

Their feelings: 9 of Cups, 2 of Swords, 6 of Cups, 9 of Swords, 10 of Swords, Sweet Surrender, The Game of Love, Standing Alone

Their feelings are quite interesting. I see them currently quite stuck. With the 9 of Cups, on one hand they know they could get a lot of fulfillment from this relationship, but also, they are refusing or unable to surrender to it. All figures in this specific section are sitting, not acting one way or the other. They don't feel like they can do much and it's possible they don't know what they could do. Its like they desire coming towards you but they are not acting on it at all. I think there is an element of taboo in this connection. Perhaps they don't think you two are a good fit/you are too different in one way or another, and it's holding them back, or there is someone else in the picture… but in any case they are controlling themselves so much that it reached a point of complete immobility.

But simultaneously, they keep remembering the moments you had together like it was some type of game that only included the two of you. Like your own secret thing. It seems they miss that. They may be feeling over-burdened by something at the moment and they keep daydreaming about an escape. Its quite dreamy and not very grounded in reality I think. Like they are stuck in their head about this connection.

However, they seem to be feeling crushed to be left behind. It's a mix of worry and feeling like they fucked up terribly. They don't want to be left alone. But then again are they doing anything to hold you back? Not really. While you seemed to worry of what could be lost as a possibility, this person just feels the lack of you but is taking it as a total defeat, something they have no control over and can't change. I also feel like there are a lot of things they want to say, but for some reason they are holding back and I get the feeling that perhaps they think it's too late to say those things. They feel quite hopeless that's for sure.

Extended reading on my ko-fi membership-only page

book a reading ★ ko-fi membership ★ all free PACs ★ pinned post ★ IG

PILE 2

Current energies: Page of Cups, Page of Wands, Knight of Cups, a Loving Gaze

You are currently really into someone and I feel it's in the early stages of the relationship, and seduction is showing up quite strongly. You are focused on mesmerizing them, watching them closely and trying to appear as your most beautiful self. Exchange of glances might be important, or just trying to get their attention by looking at them intensely. Some of you might be into glamour magic or use beauty practices in a somewhat ritualistic way.

I think you are very passionate about this person and feeling motivated, excited and adventurous, so after spending some time watching them so much, you are intending to approach them romantically with an offer, as shown by the Knight of Cups. What this offer is will depend for everyone, but it might be a date for some of you or simple just getting closer to them, asking their number or sticking up a conversation.

The overall energy is full of expectation, a love in the blooming stage, and I feel light and giddy. :)

Their feelings for you: Full Intimacy, Queen of Wands, Ace of Swords, Wheel of Fortune, 8 of Swords, the Fool

Okay so in the oracle card, the idea of gazes shows up again, so they definitely noticed you watching them and if you both locked eyes with each other it definitely had an effect! They feel a connection with you which makes them feel curious and optimistic about what could be. There is some desire as well.

With the Ace of Swords, there is a desire for communication as well. They wish to understand things better because I think they have some fear of rejections and looking like an idiot if the situation happened to be all in their head, so they need some reassurance because right now they might be overthinking and seeing the situation worse than it actually is.

So they are in a spot to want change and movement, ready to be surprised. I don't think they would take the initiative but they seem to be in an open and receptive place if you decide to make a move.

Extended reading on my ko-fi membership-only page

book a reading ★ ko-fi membership ★ all free PACs ★ pinned post ★ IG

PILE 3

Current energies: Queen of Pentacles, the Sun, Loving Yourself, King of Pentacles

Your current energy is all about focusing on yourself. It seems you are embracing your own light at the moment and nurturing your sense of self-love. So this is interesting because I see you refusing to compromise your well being and your inner balance for anyone, despite this being a reading about a connection, which I find so beautiful for you, Pile 3!

I think you are quite mature, not necessarily in age but at least in personality, or you're going through a phase where you're building this strong loving foundation for yourself.

And I think you're trying to attract someone who can be the King of Pentacles to your Queen of Pentacles (both showed up here). Someone who is secure and abundant for themselves and who can bring something valuable to your life without compromising your independence and own abundance.

Lastly, I also think you are focused on what brings you joy, what makes you feel happy and carefree and you really don't want to waste any energy on a connection that makes you feel anything but that.

Their feelings for you: Knight of Wands, 7 of Swords, the Star, Temperance, 4 of Wands, Doubt and Indecision, Memories and Remembrance

So it seems this person is seeing you as this powerful, whole and perfect person, Pile 3. You seem emotionally fulfilled to them, free and beautiful. I really get the sense that they are mesmerized by you.

I think this person is a friend you've known for a long time and who you have shared memories with. Someone who you shared laughter and celebrations or parties with, or at least had a lot of fun with. It seems your connection is very beneficial to them, makes them feel at ease, balanced, and perhaps even inspired if they are a creative soul.

Now, with the Knight of Wands, I definitely think they are attracted to you beyond just friendship, however, there are a lot of doubts here due to the fear to ruin what you have, because you seem so self sufficient and focused on yourself that they doubt you would be interested in them, and it makes them feel like their attraction for you is wrong and could lead to harm for the friendship.

I also think that your self confidence might highlight a bit on their own lack of it. Not to say that they aren't confident at all, they may very well appear confident around you, but since they see you so highly, they see themselves as a bit less in comparison and they again don't know if you would consider them romantically at all.

Extended reading on my ko-fi membership-only page

book a reading ★ ko-fi membership ★ all free PACs ★ pinned post ★ IG

[yandere-wishes]

hey whenever you can, can you make some yandere d-16

❥༄ؘ I'll do you one better Anon!! How about Yandere D-16 vs Megatron

𝄞 Somebody That I Used To Know (Slowed)

✿˗ˏˋ ✴︎D-16✴︎ ˎˊ˗✿

.☘︎ ݁˖D-16 can't remember when exactly he first noticed the erratic pulsing of his spark straining against his metallic frame when you walked into the room. Just that, after all these cycles, it had remained constant, enrapt. Pulling him to you.

.☘︎ ݁˖D-16 has a tendency to pick at things he likes, things he finds bizarrely blissfulas. He wishes he could leave them alone, leave the questions locked under his tongue and the paint free of servo marks. But he can't, indifference only gets you so far, and while he tries to follow protocol. He can't always let things go. He can't let you go.

.☘︎ ݁˖He watches as you chip away at sedimentary rock, coated in soot as you trek for the liquid lifeline. He can't help but think you look like a princess from those old spark-tales. Circuitella. Dainty and disheveled. He wonders if he should offer to carry your jackhammer on the way back to the barracks. He wonders if his voice box can even form words in your presence. He settles for trailing behind you. Optics darting between the stone walls and the back of your helm. Orian laughs and laughs and laughs. D-16 can't help but see the humor in it all. Irony too early to land.

.☘︎ ݁˖He didn't mean to drag you to the surface. It just so happens that on that exact day, there was a forgotten crate. And in that exact moment, you'd decided to personally deliver it to the surface train. It just so happens he grabs your servo, pulling into the shadow of the crates. Tucked away beneath him. Heading for doom or glory or a grotesque third.

.☘︎ ݁˖D-16 is obsessive, longing for his darling from afar. Desperate for a sliver of your attention, desperate for the shadow of your presence. He can't help but watch you, optics trailing over your gorgeous features. He can't help but dream of the taste of your lips and sturdy touch as he chips away at a vein.

.☘︎ ݁˖He secretly collects little pieces of your essence. Keeping them locked in his chest chamber right above his spark. Chipped paint, a piece of metal from your plating, tiny parts of an old drill you once used. He needs you in ways he can't understand, ways that claw at his processor and spark like the wild beasts Megatrouns used to fight. Needs to hear your voice as you complain about a stiff joint or your breathy giggle as you laugh at him and Orian arguing again.

.☘︎ ݁˖He wishes he could collect stickers of you. Stick them across his frame and watch the iridescent glow under Cybertron's sun. Wishes he could decorate his measly possessions with your radiant smile and sparkling optics.

.☘︎ ݁˖Is it weird that I LOVE the thought of D-16 collecting stickers? Mostly of Megatrous but also of the other primes, famous racers, sentinel prime, etc.

.☘︎ ݁˖The thought of Sentinel Prime having touched you, having stolen a part of you (let alone a part of him) leaves him teetering on lava rage, leaving his spark breaking in ways he didn't know it could.

.☘︎ ݁˖D-16 is still a child, young and new by Cybertronian standards. But age isn't gauged by online cycles now is it? It's measured in accomplishments and opalescent dreams. So maybe the little Sparkling voice screaming in the back of his helm isn't too far off. Crying that by stealing his T-cog, your T-cog. Sentinel screwed up something in your circuitry. Maybe you were always sparkbound. Maybe you were the incarnation of Solus Prime and he, Megatronus. Maybe you where always destined to be together.

.☘︎ ݁˖These thoughts burn his processor during the treacherous trek back home, back to Iacon. Can you even call he even call that cage a home? D-16 hovers closer to you. Growing bolder, even daring to leave his servo on your shoulder pad. Daring to hold your servo and drag you out of danger.

.☘︎ ݁˖"Thanks, D" you chirp cheerfully and he thinks his spark might just erupt. "Yeah it's nothing" he mutters jogging after Orian leaving you behind with a giggling and concerned Elita-one.

.☘︎ ݁˖After "retrieving" Megatronus's T-cog from Sentinel he swears on Primus himself that he shall fuse you with Solus Prime's T-cog solidifying your love. Bounding you to him through every incarnation.

.☘︎ ݁˖D-16 is tragic in every way. His fall makes Cybertron shake, his new scarlet optics send a shiver through the universe. Obsession and subjugation. Anger and Hate. D-16 burns away, you feel it when you kiss him over Sentinel's corpse. The monster in his place bites your lips trying to devour every inch of your. Conquer, Conquer, Conquer

.☘︎ ݁˖Even if Orion Pax/Optimus Prime tries to protect you. Keep you in Iacon safe from the bot he once called brother. There is no way he can stop the newly evolved warlord from hunting you down. D-16 had always been loyal to his obsessions, tearing through everything to feel them under his servos. Although back then -when they'd been happy under a blanket of lies- D-16's obsessions had simply been holographic stickers of tragic heroes. Now it's bloodstained domination. Conformation to a macraber freedom. He's no longer a little minor bot tolling away, he's Megatron now. Hungry monstrous thing raging wars until he has both his darling and Cybertron in his grasp once more. D-16 had always told Orion that he thought you nothing less than a princess. And maybe it has always been true, after all, princesses are a tragedy too.

.☘︎ ݁˖Optimus can't help but shed a tear at the thought as he watches D-16 Megatron roll away...

⋆༺𓆩𓆩Megatron𓆪𓆪༻⋆

✮ Upon your recapture, Megatron isn't too gentle. He's rough and angry. He's betrayed -again- it pricks at his spark like daggers. The first thing Megatron does is force Solus Prime's T-cog into your chassis. He promised you he'd bound you to him, didn't he? Promised you'd be together in every incarnation. And unlike every golden leader before him, Megatron intends to keep every one of his promises.

✮ He loves the sight of you writhing in pain beneath him. Runs his clawed servos over the the raw wires fusing and the circuits crunching into each other. The look of utter pain in your optics has his spark racing like the first time he saw you in the mines. He can't help but kiss you deeply, greedily swallowing your essence.

✮ You can taste his anger on your tongue. You roll the pulp of rage around your mouth swallowing the sadness, the desperation. Letting the taste burn the roof of your mouth. He calls you traitor and darling between each breath. And you can't tell if he wants to kiss your spark or decollate your helm and mount it on the wall of his new ship.

✮ Megatron suffers in shades and flavors that haven't been invented yet, you feel them swatch against your lips in every single one of his raging kisses. He isn't above leaving marks and dents across your armor. He likes you better this way broken and beautiful. Tragedy in every way

✮ He used to hate seeing you scared and defenseless. Now such a precious sight leaves him intoxicated, spark buzzing with overt excitment. He likes this power, feeling you tremble each time he raises his servo. Your life is laced between his digits, he loves tugging it harshly showing you how he controls you in every way imaginable. He likes being the monster that princesses fear. "Circuitella" he whispers under his breath, he knows you don't get the joke.

✮ Megatron likes to kill through you. Intwined digits holding a blaser, his claws on your digits pushing until the trigger releases and the bullets impale the target. He trails open-mouthed kisses across your back afterward. Sharp teeth sinking into the metal of your neck. He pulls you closer locked between his arms. When did he get so big? You remember when he'd been so utterly small. Little minor bot, where is he? Megatron never notices your melancholy optics or the whirl of your processor as it tries to distance itself from the physical world. All he cares about is your body wrapped within his. About the sweet taste of your metal and paint on his tongue.

✮ Megatron's love is lave upon open wounds, painful in every way. Where D-16's love had once been saccharine energon goodies and shy iridescent kisses. But D-16 is dead, he died with Orion all those centuries ago. Only Megatron remains. Lord Megatron, the one who keeps you caged, overpowers you with rough kisses and says "I love you" while pointing a blaser to your spark.

✮ I guess it's worth mentioning that D-16 would never harm his darling in any way but would absolutely avenge her if someone so much as left a scratch on her. Megtran punishes his darling for amusement and also because he loves her submission and fear. But I guess a little D-16 still lives inside him cause he will rip apart anyone who so much as touches his darling.

✮ Sometimes, when the lights are low and darkness begins to play it's ploys. You swear you see D-16 looking at you. Easy smile and bright sunny eyes. Body still tiny, with no pain engraved upon it. But illusions are always so quick to shatter, their precious shards melting under reality's brutal wight. D-16 withers away and in his place Lord Megatron stands. Piercing Claws and teeth gleaming under the dim light. He's gentle when he touches you laying something on your armour. Thin smile as he admires you, ethereal little you before leaving. You always check to see what he's left. It's always an iridescent sticker from his old collection...

[whimsyfinny]

He’s a Winchester

Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.

Slow burn (ish), mom!reader

Warnings: language, anxious Dean, anxious Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2683

MDNI 18+

A/N: another slightly shorter chapter (sorry). Idk why but I rewrote this chapter so many times to try and get it right, so fingers crossed it’s not awful. But the encounter finally happens! Not long now until we get to see Dean doing dad things, and tbh, I’m living for it. Feedback is always appreciated! Love you all

A/N2: GUYS IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING but PLEEEEASE provide your age if you want to be added to the taglist and it isn’t in your blog. This story is tame now but it’s gonna get spicy, and my blog is strictly 18+. So pleeeeease save be a very long job and help a gal out.

Photos from Pinterest

New Readers Start Here: Chapter 1

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Spilling the truth took a lot less time than I'd anticipated, so after a quick update texted to Kat and the much needed coffees, Dean and I decided to head over to the track. Dean himself was feeling every emotion under the sun. He expressed a constant string of heartfelt apologies for nearly the whole walk from Jolenes’ Café back to where we'd parked, despite me constantly reminding him that he has nothing to apologise for. He's here now, and that's what matters. The phrases ‘I have a son,’ and ‘I’m a dad’ seemed to intertwine with the ‘I’m sorry’s’ like a mantra, to the point where I had to stop him in his tracks and refocus his attention before his head got lost in the clouds.

“I get it, Dean. This is so much to absorb right now, and I can't imagine what is going on in that crazy brain of yours. You don't have to come with me right now, we can meet tomorrow if you want-”

“No, absolutely not. I've been absent for too long and I'll be damned if I waste another minute,” he nervously wiped his hands over his face as we approached my truck. I couldn't help but smile. “I mean, what if he doesn't like me?”

I couldn't stop the chuckle from escaping my mouth, earning a raised eyebrow from the man who was working himself into an anxious sweat.

“Dean, trust me, he's going to want to be your best friend. Especially when he knows that’s your car,” I nodded my head to the impala a few spaces away, recalling Levi's excitement when he saw it in town yesterday.

“Really?”

“Really. Plus…” I hesitated, unsure what emotion my next statement was going to stir within Dean, “he's been bullied for not having a dad around, and I think he'll be grateful for that to stop.”

Deans’ brows furrowed as he leant on the side of my truck, dropping his head and muttering a few curses.

“He's been bullied because I've not been there?” He looked up with a pained pinch in his brow. I sighed.

“Yes but trust me, your boy gives as good as he gets,” I smiled a little, bringing Dean some reassurance. I could tell the words ‘your boy’ had an effect on him. “Look,” I reached out to rub his shoulder affectionately, to which he responded with a warm hand over mine, squeezing my fingers. “We need to get going to pick him up. Why don't you come in my truck with me?” He paused for a moment, thinking, gathering his thoughts before standing up straight and nodding. “Great,” I grinned at him, a few nervous butterflies fluttering in my own stomach now. I reached for his hand again, giving it another squeeze, “let's get going then.”

Dean had insisted on driving, mainly for his own sanity and I’d happily obliged, remembering what a terrible passenger he was. After a couple of painstaking minutes of him readjusting my seat, we pulled away and headed down to the track. 

The drive was about twenty minutes, and most of that was spent in a comfortable conversation about Levi. Dean wanted to know everything. And I mean everything. His hobbies, his favourite movie, his favourite cereal, his least favourite cereal, his grades, his favourite subject… the list went on. Before we knew it, we were turning down a dirt road and pulling into a large gravel car park. As we pulled up and hopped out, the buzz of dirt bikes and loud chatter filled the air, along with the intense smell of petrol. Dean walked around to my side, looking around and taking it all in.

“Levi does this? He can ride a dirt bike?” he asked, an impressed tone to his voice. Dean had forgone the leather jacket and as I glanced at him, I couldn't help but trail my gaze over his biceps and the way the grey fabric of his t-shirt stretched around the large muscles. I looked away quickly before he caught me. Now was not the time to let my eyes or thoughts wander.

“Yeah, he's really into it, and he's good too; he has a few trophies at home. To be honest, he loves anything with wheels and an engine,” I grinned, meeting Deans’ eyes with a knowing look. He smiled back.

“Really?”

“You know, he's a lot like you - even though you've never met. It's kinda crazy,” I started heading down to the gathering point, knowing that Levi would be coming off the track soon. Dean was hot on my heels. “He even looks like you.” 

“Poor kid.”

I smacked him on the arm playfully as Dean chuckled.

“You're handsome and you know it, so shut your mouth.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Just as we were approaching the gathering point I heard a familiar voice calling my name. Looking through the crowd I saw Kat trotting up to us in her poorly chosen footwear, Toby nowhere in sight. She pulled me into a hug with a smirk already growing on her lips, and as she pulled back she turned to study the tall man at my side.

“Hmm… you are even finer than your photograph.”

“Kat!”

She ignored me.

“I'm Kat, it's nice to meet you, Dean. I feel like we'll be seeing a lot more of each other. You know, since our son's are besties,” she stuck out her hand and grasped Deans, giving it a firm shake and dropping it before he'd even uttered a word. She turned back to me, her smirk still on her lips.

“Since Levi is coming home with you today - much to Toby's disappointment - how would you feel about him sleeping over tomorrow?”

“Yeah totally, he'd love that,” I grinned at her, forever grateful.

“Great! I'll pick him up tomorrow,” she beamed, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before turning on her heels and heading back into the crowd of parents. We'd normally wait for the boys to emerge together, but I know her, and she didn't want to step on Deans’ toes. This was a big deal, and in her eyes, she was the outsider here.

“What was that?” Dean looked at me, slightly stunned with a quizzical brow.

“That,” I gestured to Kat's disappearing figure, “is Kat. She's my best friend, and to be honest I don't think I'd have made it this far without her.”

“Kat. Got it,” he seemed to make a mental note of who she was, catching on quickly that she was an important person in my life. In Levi's life. I grinned at him, perhaps a little nervously before grasping his hand and pulling him with me in the same direction Kat had left.

“Come on, he’ll be out soon, let's wait for him.”

Dean flashed the smallest smile whilst taking a deep breath. He looked down at our hands and I noticed his palms were a little sweaty. He gripped tighter, hanging to me like I was a lifeline as I pulled him through the crowd. His silence spoke volumes of his nerves, so I stopped at the edge of the gaggle of parents, fearing that he would soon find this all too much. 

For the whole five minutes that we waited, Dean didn't let go of me.

It didn't take long for the whirring of tiny engines to draw closer and closer before finally stopping, shortly followed by the chatter of smaller, childlike voices. Kids began to filter through the crowd, and it wasn’t long before a familiar outline pushing a small, black dirt bike headed our way. Suddenly Dean pulled his hand away from mine and raked his fingers frantically through his hair, pacing in a small circle.

“Shit…shit- what do I say to him? How do I talk to him? He's gonna hate me-”

“Hey hey hey, calm down, everything is fine! Trust me, Dean, Levi is not going to hate you,” I reached to rub a hand over the back of his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense and flex with every deep breath he took. 

“I've done a lot of terrifying shit in my life but this really takes the cake,” he dragged a large hand over his paleing face.

“He's an eight year old boy, baby. Trust me, you've got this.” 

He sighed before stopping in his tracks, his gaze catching mine with a twitch of his lip.

“It's been a hot minute since you've called me that, sweetheart,” he stepped closer, reaching to touch the small of my back with tender fingertips.

It took a moment for realisation to dawn, and when it did I felt heat bloom across my cheeks. 

“I-I'm sorry- it just slipped out- I didn't mean-”

“(Y/n) it's ok! I don't mind,” he chuckled slightly, his nerves seeming to dissipate. The playful glint had returned to his eye for a moment, but it was quickly replaced with something calmer, more serene. His grin lessened, but the warmth in his features remained. “I don't mind.”

I looked up at him, my heart and stomach feeling warm and light as we seemed to acknowledge our own familiarity between each other. It wasn't just Levi that connected us, and I seemed to forget that Dean and I used to be in a relationship. We were more than just a one night stand - we were intimate on multiple levels. 

“Hey mom!” 

The bubble around Dean and I popped as Levi had crept up on us, crash helmet still equipped and his bike to his side.  I felt Dean tense beside me, the air around him practically sizzling with anticipation.

“Hey there, trouble! You had a good afternoon?” I stepped up to Levi and patted his helmet. He nodded vigorously.

“Great! You can tell me all about it in the car,” I paused and glanced at Dean, frozen in place and not taking his eyes off Levi since he appeared. It took a moment for Levi to realise that Dean was even standing there, his focus still on me and his fun afternoon. After a few breaths, Dean tore his gaze away from his son and he looked over at me, his expression heavy with a whole concoction of emotions. I offered him a small smile before nodding. 

“Hey, Levi,” I crouched down to my sons’  level, “I have a surprise for you. I'm gonna need you to take your helmet off, ok?”

I saw his eyes light up as he nodded vigorously. Helping him to support his bike, he eagerly tore his helmet off, his short brown hair tousling in the process. He grinned at me, his helmet now tucked under his arm as he waited patiently. I heard a sharp inhale hiss through Deans’ teeth from behind me as he laid eyes on his sons’ face for the first time. I smiled at Levi, taking his smaller, dirt covered hand in mine.

“Ok, so… You see this man behind me?” I tilted my head in Deans’ direction, and Levi followed with his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, his grin unfaltering.

“Well,” I drew in a breath, “his name is Dean. And I knew Dean a long time ago,” there was another apprehensive pause as my own pulse quickened. “Sweetheart… Dean… He’s, well… He’s your dad.”

I watched as the grin fell from Levis’ face, his green eyes widening.

“What?” his voice was all but a whisper, his gaze flitting rapidly between me and Dean, who’d now taken a step closer.

“He’s your dad,” I repeated, reaching up to softly comb my fingers through the front of his wild hair. Levis’ bottom lip started to tremble as my words sunk in, the truth of the situation we were in starting to hit home as tears started to well in his eyes.

“You’re serious?” he squeaked with a sniff.

I nodded, the emotions from my son now bleeding into me, a lump forming in my throat.

“Yeah honey, I’m serious.”

Levis’ helmet hit the dirt with a thud and in that instant he’d thrown himself at Dean, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his mud streaked face into his shirt. His dad didn’t hesitate to return the gesture, wrapping his large arms around Levis’ shoulders and pulling him into the same crushing hug I’d received earlier today.

“Hey kid,” Dean spoke against the top of Levis’ head, his voice rasping as he choked his words out, “I’m sorry it took so long for me to get here.” 

I stood up from where I’d been crouching, now clutching the small helmet that had been flung to the ground. I drew Deans’ attention as I shifted, and I felt like my heart could have exploded in my chest when I saw the glossiness in his eyes. Tears of joy, relief and perhaps even bittersweet regret were on the brink of spilling over, and the soft smile he threw my way said a million ‘thank yous’.  The quiet sounds of Levis’ sniffling were what pulled on my heartstrings the most. The boy who loved nothing more than to race bikes, watch movies and talk about cars had grown up without a dad to share those interests with. He’d watched the other kids around him down at the track, their fathers joining in with the activities. Other kids had their dads to play sports with down at the park on a sunny Sunday afternoon. They’d had a role model who they could admire, always in the bedroom next to theirs. But not Levi. He’d had me, and I did my best to fill those fatherly shoes, but we both knew it just wasn’t the same. There were times when I think it upset me more than it had upset him, feeling like my child was missing out on something so important. But now… now that Dean was here, for however long he was planning on staying, Levi could finally experience the things he’d dreamt of for so long. I just hoped it would turn out to be everything that he’d ever imagined.

I watched as Levi finally pulled away from his dad, his tears having cleaned tracks through the mud on his face. He sniffed one my time before beaming up at Dean.

“Hey, kid,” Dean smiled softly, ruffling his hair with a hand the same size as his head, “maybe if your moms ok with it, we could hang out a bit. Maybe go and grab some ice-cream? My treat,” Dean shifted that smile to me, and I would’ve had to have had a heart of stone to decline that request.

“Of course,” I smiled back, “ice-cream sounds perfect.”

“Great,” Deans’ grin widened, a refreshed look in his eye as he let go of Levi and stepped towards me, taking the helmet from my hands. My breath caught in my throat when he pressed a warm, lingering kiss to my cheek. I took everything to not let my eyes flutter closed, to not get lost in that moment, but the familiar feeling of his lips on my skin and scent washing over awoke the butterflies in my stomach. My heart leapt in my chest, and I couldn’t help the sigh of relief when he pulled away, stepping around me. He kicked the bike stand back and wheeled the small vehicle forwards, looking at Levi and urging him to come and push it.

“Come on kid, why don’t you tell me all about this beast on our way back to the truck,” he smiled to his son who beamed back, leaping over to him. Dean chuckled slightly as the smaller version of himself burst into conversation about top speeds and engine strokes, and the wide look in Deans’ eyes as he glanced up at me, finally understanding what I’d meant when I’d said they were so alike. And as Levi chatted animatedly to his dad as we walked, my heart swelled as I watched them.

I couldn’t seem to look away as I witnessed Dean gaze down at his son, looking like the proudest father in the world.

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[back2bluesidex]

Slide - The Ultimate Decision - MYG

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 2.2k+

Summary: 

"I can't feel my legs Hop right on the ledge, jump right off the edge"

Alternatively, 

Worst decisions are always driven by anger and alcohol; but sometimes those are also driven by Love.

Warnings: so much angst, reader's inner turmoil, unplanned pregnancy, yoongi is making things worse, Hoseok is the doctor but he is not to be shipped with the reader here, he is a catalyst though, pining, so much pining.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

A/N: The next chapter from the present timeline.

Taglist requests are closed for now

Read the next chapter

You fumble with your phone, scrolling down numbers after numbers but can’t find a single contact you can call at a time like this. 

The pregnancy testing kit lies on your left hand as if it has been tattooed on your skin. For some reason, you don’t feel dread creeping up through the path of your neck. 

Should you cry? Should you call Yoongi and curse him to your heart’s content? Should you ask him to take the responsibility when he is about to start living his old happy life again? 

Probably you should. 

But the thing is… you can’t bring yourself to do any of those. 

You don’t even know what you should feel or what you need to feel at a moment like this. 

You don’t even have any idea of what’s going to be your next move. 

Will you keep the baby? Or will you choose to abort it? 

But before everything, you should consult with someone, who is wiser than you. 

Your fingers hover above your mother’s contact ID, even though you know your calls are going to go unnoticed, unanswered, ignored as if you never came out of her womb. 

And things will turn even uglier if she answers your call and you manage to tell her what you have done to yourself, more or less willingly. 

So you let your phone fall limp on your lap. 

How funny - you have absolutely no one to confide in. no family, no friends, no one. 

As soon as the realization hits, your eyes start turning blurry. 

Tear drops escape one by one, dampening your cheeks, throat, collarbones. You caress your stomach. 

“What do I do now?” the mumble comes out choked. And then you are thinking of him again. 

How he cried in his sleep the first time you brought him here with you. How he repeated his actions again during his last visit here. 

Both of the time you stood on the sidelines, the center of his universe has always been Gyuri. 

In the end, though, you have been the one affected - with blooming warmth in your chest and in turn a presence of life in your womb. 

As you think of Yoongi, your mind runs back to the man who had helped you in picking him up from the streets. 

You still remember, his card said he was an obgyn. 

Your tears cease. 

Yes. As much as you need a friend or family right now, you need an expert too. 

Standing abruptly from your bed, you run toward the other side of it, reaching out for the night stand, where you had kept the man’s card more than a year ago. 

You don’t have to struggle much to find out the card, it’s there as if it has been waiting to be found all these times. 

Holding the card in your hand, opens the flood gate of fresh memory of that night, of Yoongi’s dirty face, vomit all over his clothes and him holding you tightly in his sleep. 

That was the first and last time. 

He never held you for a second time, unless you were having sex. 

Pushing down the depressing thoughts, you grab your phone and with swift fingers dial the number of the man - Jung Hoseok. 

The clock reads 9 pm on a Wednesday night. And you pray, this is not past his business hours, he has no such mentions in the card as well. 

The universe seems to grant your prayer this time, probably out of sheer pity, as the man accepts the call on the fourth ring. 

“Hello, It’s Dr. Jung Hoseok, how can I help you?” The man speaks with a professional tone that sets you on an unexplainable ease. 

“Hi, uh, I am sorry to call you like this but I had managed to get my hands on your card and I think I need your help. I, um, I’m pregnant. And I think I need an appointment.” your hands start sweating now when you realize all of it is real. You are pregnant with the baby of a man who doesn’t love you. 

Pathetic. 

“How many weeks are you?” the man asks with the same professional pronunciation. 

“I don’t know. I just found out a few minutes ago. This is my first time and I don’t know what to do.” you speak honestly. 

These are the same words you want to confess to a friend, to your mother as well and most importantly to Yoongi. But talking to a stranger, about how helpless you are, is much less nerve-wracking. 

“You are not a teenager, are you?” he speaks, suspicion laced in his voice. 

A sudden chuckle leaves your throat, “I’m twenty seven.” 

The other side of the line only hums and then after a beat he says, “we usually don’t accept appointments made via phone calls but I can guide you on how to book one. If that’s okay with you?” 

“Anything is okay with me.” 

And you are not lying. At this hour, alone in your apartment, robbed off options, in the lack of a confidant - any assistance is okay with you. 

Any assistance is fine if that means you will be able to figure out what you are going to do with a baby in your womb, gifted by the man whom you let destroy yourself for the sake of love. 

The appointment is due at 3 in the afternoon and right now the clock is at 1:26. 

The hospital is an hour's drive away, hence, if you leave now, you will still have a 30 minutes on your hand. 

But the problem is that you didn’t inform anyone formally about this secretive appointment. Applying an official leave would raise questions about the nature and reason of the appointment and you don’t want that. 

You want to protect this truth with every drop of blood your body owns. 

So, you decide to quickly drop by Namjoon's office and tell him you need the rest of the day off for some emergency. 

For a matter you know Namjoon is not privy enough to inquire about the so-called emergency. 

Much to your dismay, your plans shatter like a porcelain vase as soon as you open the door of Namjoon’s office. Because one, there is no Namjoon, two, there is Min Yoongi. 

Yoongi’s expression mimics yours as he takes you in, standing there, staring at him as if he didn’t fuck you raw and left you with consequences just a month ago. 

But then again… a month of radio silence, a month of stolen glances, a month of no skin contact, a month of no Min Yoongi was more painful than you’d dare to admit. 

Your heart thumps inside your chest as you realize, you are standing in front of the man whose baby is currently in your womb. 

You are carrying a baby! And that’s Min Yoongi’s! Screams your mind at the loudest possible volume. 

But still, by some miraculous strength, you manage to smile at him.

A casual, nonchalant smile as you are used to. 

Except this time, Yoongi doesn’t smile back. 

He looks at you with eyes so deep that you fear you will succumb to them yet again if you stay here for a moment longer. 

“Where’s Namjoon?” you get straight to the point, without wasting your time in any greeting. 

“Y/N. Wait.” but you have always been weak to the way Yoongi calls your name. This time, you are hearing it after what feels like an eternity. 

“He went out to escort a guest.” Yoongi says, flatly, his tone devoid of any emotions. It’s tough to believe he cried in your arms a month ago.

“Oh. Then can you please let him know that I have an emergency and I have left for the day? Thank you.” you don’t wait for his reply as you start turning your heels to run away already. 

His voice works like glue and stops you in your tracks. You are now unable to move. A cold, calloused palm comes in contact with your upper arm, forcing you to face the man. 

When you face him, you see his face and expression has softened. The stoic expression is now gone and you are afraid of what to make out of it. 

This is not pity, is it? 

“How are you? It’s been so long- I wanted to see you but-” 

“But there is no reason to do so, right?” you finish his sentence for him, “I am fine, Yoongi. How are you? How’s Gyuri?” 

“All good.” he ignores the mention of the woman, "What's the emergency? Are you alright?” He places the back of his palm on your forehead, checking your body temperature. 

Your eyes fill to the brim. You need to leave right now or you will start crying. 

“I- I’m fine.” you lie, removing his hand from your skin, “it’s just something personal.” 

Yoongi frowns at that “oh. You can tell me. If you need any he-” 

“I can take care of it myself, Yoongi. You have a life to lead, you have better days ahead now, why would you even care about me? I was just a fleeting chapter anyway. Please- please don’t act like our time together meant anything to you. Please, I beg.” try as you might, you couldn’t contain it anymore. 

Just like you, Yoongi, too, is taken aback with your outburst. Though his eyes are kind, if you dare to add, then those might as well be in pain. 

But his next words only break you further, “wasn’t it a given? A silent agreement that our time together wouldn’t mean much to any of us?” 

Is he challenging you? Trying to elicit a further reaction? Is it a knife to dig more in your fresh wounds? 

If yes, then you will do everything to disappoint him. 

You nod, “Yeah. You are right. Forget I have said anything. Bye.” 

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something but you are faster than his words. Before he manages to say a word, you are out of the door and shutting it on his face. 

He is cruel. 

He has always been. 

But you still love him. 

You have always had. 

The fact that Yoongi can be a little heartless has never been a shock to you. 

Nevertheless, it didn’t harm you any less when he let those careless words out of his mouth. Then again, you can not even blame him because you had been the one to place your heart in his hands and asked him to play with it. 

In the end, it’s your fault. 

And you are already paying the price in more ways than one. 

“Miss Y/N?” a nurse calls your name, pulling you out of your miserable thoughts, “you can go in now.” 

With a bow and a forced smile you leave the waiting area and enter the OPD room. 

A man is sitting at the desk, with his scrubs and white coat on, the nameplate on the table says he is the one who helped you out that night. He is Jung Hoseok. 

You failed to look at his face that night, being too busy with tending Yoongi. But now that you are looking at him, he seems to be the embodiment of everything that’s positive, light, bright - much unlike you (or Yoongi for that matter). 

His eyes light up as he takes you in, with a big smile he says, “oh? You are Miss Y/N? I remember you clearly. Please take the seat.” 

You wonder how it's even possible to recall you after seeing you once, that too a year ago, “You do?” 

“Yes. I still remember that night and your friend.” He mentions Yoongi.

If he sees the man’s mention dims you even further then he doesn’t say anything but he chooses to change the topic right away, “have you filled the form?” 

“Yes.” you hand him the piece of paper. 

He goes through it all at once, probably having everything memorized, but his eyes get stuck at one point. And you have an idea what it can be. 

“As I can see, you have not added anyone as your closest contact?” he says with a careful tone.

“Yes.” you reply briefly. 

“You need to add one person at least, maybe a friend, or a family, or the father of the baby.” he suggests. 

“I- No one knows about this just yet. I don’t have any immediate friend or family who could help me out.” your hands are now shaking. 

“Sorry to pry, but what about the father of the baby?” Jung Hoseok leans a little further on the table, as if trying to measure your facial expressions. 

“He is unaware of the situation.” 

“Are you sure you want the baby?” he voices in the softest possible tone anyone has ever used against you. 

“Yes. I want to keep the baby.” and that’s it. If the baby is one last proof of what Yoongi had with you for no less than a year, if the baby is a proof that Yoongi had once held you, cried in your arms, dipped inside you to forget his own complications, then you want to keep it. 

And this will be your ultimate decision no matter what anyone else says. 

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[maleyanderecafe]

Hell Trap (Visual Novel)

Created by: marikatti

Genre: Horror/Thriller

The story and artwork in this game is gorgeous. I think this might be the same artist as Paper Cuts because the artstyle seems strikingly similar. This visual novel goes into rather dark topics like suicide, rape and revenge, and it is really beautiful how the story is written so far. There is a prologue and two parts of the story as of writing this.

The story starts out with Yul recalling a childhood memory of being in the snow and walking home. He is interrupted by his sister who teases him, but feels distressed that he cannot remember her name. After some comments about how they were opposites, yet they were two peas in a pod, Yul points out her mismatched shoes. His sister promises that the two of them will be together and that they will take care of each other, something that Yul is happy about. We get a time jump to when the two are in high school. His sister plays with a friendly cat at the front of the school before the two go inside. At lunch, his sister tries to talk about him getting more friends at school, something that Yul sees as useless as he already has his sister. During lunch, Yul's sister ends up in the infirmary, after throwing up, though tries to reassure her brother it was just lunch. Yul immediately doesn't believe this as not only did they have the same lunch, but his sister has a strong stomach. After school, as they walk home, the two lament about their current situation. The two of them are living by themselves, as their dad refuses to give money for them to live with him. The two talk about their future, about how his sister is trying really hard to study well and get good grades so that she can provide for them in the future, along with the various part time jobs that they've been taking. They know their father will stop sending them money the moment that they become adults. Yul tries to get his sister to tell him what really happened to get her in the infirmary, but she refuses. At night, she has a nightmare, and while Yul is trying to wake her up, she hears her talk about how she no longer wants to be at school. The next day, Yul ends up evesdropping on her sister talking to the principal. We see a flashback of Yul's sister working at school after hours on her homework, when a teacher named Blanche comes to talk to her. Blanche talks to Yul's sister about her troubles, and offers her a way for her to make her money. She agrees, desperate for some more money, but retracts when Blanche suggests her to use her body. Blanche then pounces on her and rapes her. Yul ends up bursting into the professor's office after hearing this, much to the principal and his sister's surprise. The principal doesn't help her and instead berates her, stating that women can't be rapist and that Blanche is a good teacher, much to the sibling's dismay. Soon after, Yul's sister jumps off of a building, dying in front of Yul, with Blanche coming over and scorning him.

After the death of his sister, Yul attempts to change his appearance by dying his hair so that he isn't reminded of her every time he looks in the mirror. He grows extremely agitated and distraught, and even starts killing animals, starting with the cat that Yul's sister petted at the beginning of school. He is still not satisfied, until he sees Blanche's daughter at school one day. Yul upon seeing this starts to formulate a plan on how to cause the most pain to Blanche- by killing her daughter. After graduating, Yul follows Blanche's daughter around. First by seeing that she hangs out with her mother on Saterdays, and then by following her and learning her schedule. He does this for three years, learning everything about her and what she does in order to find the best way to kill her. On the day of the kill, Yul follows behind her, planning to choke her and bash her head in when she goes into the alleyway. All seems to be going well, at least until she suddenly screams out that she forgot her phone charger and runs in the opposite direction, leading to her getting hit by the bus instead. In shock and horror, Yul is completely undone, angry that his kill was taken away from him. He ends up helping to call the ambulance and even gets to check in on her during the accident. In an attempt to revive, her he ends up staying and wishing that she'd wake, and she does end up doing so. While talking to the doctor about who to contact, she ends up responding very negatively to the suggestion to tell her mother, something that catches Yul off guard. Afterwards, she thanks Yul for saving her, even introducing herself as Mila. Yul starts to develop some mixed feelings on the scenario, though still decides to go with his plan of killing her. He ends up sneaking into the hospital and night and tries to choke Mila on her bed, but recoils, as he realizes that her reaction with her mother's mention was unusual. He ends up leaving her alive a bit longer to find out what exactly her relationship with her mother is like.

Starting out, this visual novel does a really good job of setting the tone of the entire story. The artwork is beautiful in each scene, with the start with various exaggerated and cute types of facial expressions from Yul's sister, symbolizing her innocence and her general happy outlook on life, contrasted with later after her assault. Most of the story is told from Yul's point of view, with vivid thoughts on his sister's death and his attachment to her, wanting to stay by her side, not wanting to be friends with anyone else and of course, seeking revenge for her after her death. We see that his sister's death is so painful that he can no longer remember her name, and even changes his appearance so he is not reminded of her when he looks into the mirror. Everything for these two has been pretty tragic for a while, having to live on their own, having little to no help from parents or other relatives and of course, the lead up to the sister's death and Yul's eventual lead to revenge. The dialogue and inner thoughts of Yul really give such a powerful feeling in this entire visual novel, with the kind of tension that really wants to make you see more of it, all with a beautiful and striking black and white artwork. It really is beautiful. It's hard to predict exactly what will happen next, as I did not expect Mila to be hit by a car and fully expected her to die or almost die by Yul's hands.

It's hard to say whether or not Yul is a romantic or platonic yandere for his sister, since she does die pretty early on. I will wager that Yul is more platonic though considering he does seem more dependent on her, rather than lusts over her but regardless, he does very clearly care about and love her. Regardless, much of his revenge plot is driven by the fact that Blanche caused his sister to die, and the agony he feels afterwards. Considering he doesn't kill Mila by the end of chapter two, it is possible that he could develop feelings for her as well, as his realization that her and her mother's relationship isn't as amicable as it seems. As a yandere, he's mostly just a bit clingy initially, but after her death pretty much goes straight into more sinister roles, killing animals to try to sate her hatred of Blanche and of course stalking Mila to kill her as well as meticulously learning her schedule just to kill her. Those last ones aren't specific to yanderes themselves, but he does incorporate a lot of traits from there to get his revenge. If he does possibly fall for Mila, then these traits might come back not to try to get her killed but possibly to protect her. It is always fun to see how these more thriller like stories go.

Overall, while this is still in a demo state, it is extremely promising and is a thriller/horror type story that really keeps you on your toes. As this creator did likely create Paper Cuts, I can see their expertise in writing this as the thriller aspect of Paper Cuts really kept you on your toes. I highly recommend it and look forward to new chapters coming out in the future.

[matrixbearer2024]

Just something I'd like to say about the Stan twins among other things I've seen here on tumblr and everywhere else. Also because I'm genuinely confused why this is even a thing. I don't really see the point in why people have to look at characters and say: good/bad, nuances exist and morality is mostly grey haha.

One of the reasons why I chose to write for Ford isn't really because I don't think he's a bad person, au contraire I know he's done really shitty things but I don't think he's bad. That would be an oversimplification.

If I had to be completely open about it, his situation is actually pretty similar to mine aside from the fact his sibling is a twin. My brother is two years younger than me.

But still, shit happens. Cornered by everyone and everything, one is labeled as gifted and special while the other is seen as stupid and useless, then the split between family and aspiration.

Granted, I've never made a deal with a demonic piece of geometry and I've gone through a different set of circumstances in a completely different time frame– but still. I get where his arrogance comes from and I get how being outcasted can make you prone to doing a lot of shitty things to chase validation.

God forbid someone comes to you and strokes your ego to death, that's the easiest way to manipulate someone with the picture of self-confidence and it's made of glass.

I can't say that what happened to me was a fortunate occurrence, but I was severely humbled at a young age and it's probably why I turned out differently. Ford never really did, he clung onto the idea of being special and being a coveted rarity.

Point is, I can kind of see where he's coming from and a lot of his fights with Stan I also kind of understand. I'm not condoning his actions, especially because I've had legendary fights with my brother before and remembering them all makes me feel like shit because there are things I've done I can never bring myself to forgive– but it's why I can understand why shit unfolded the way it did.

I'm not even going to go into grudges because I've held a grudge over someone for 12 years so I can also get why Ford would end up doing that for fucking 30– but yeah. I don't think either twin is really right or wrong. Stan got dealt a bad hand like my brother, and Ford got shoved into the limelight like me. I can understand the both of them well.

Also to those who wonder why Stan would even forgive Ford, I don't know what else to say other than it might be a sibling thing. I used to fight with my brother simply because he'd excel better in some of the things I do. I'd purposefully work harder to overshadow him and he knew. He would let me succeed and even rub it in his face because he saw that it made me happy.

Even after all this time he doesn't hold it against me so that's something I'm eternally grateful for. But yeah, he cared that much when all I did was be selfish. I still think it depends on some siblings but yeah, for these two they hit close to home just for doing what they do.

Not to mention, my brother's also had his moments where it looks like he's destroyed my things/projects on the sole reason that he thinks it's taking me away from him. That it's taking his best friend away from him.

One of those times was when I was creating a painting for a competition years ago, he got mad I spent so much time on it and accidentally knocked over the water container and it spilled all over my work. The painting was effectively ruined and I blew up at him for it.

Sound familiar?

Where Stan played off his destruction, my brother kept apologizing and owning up to his fuck-up. Where Ford refused to listen, I eventually just compromised with my brother and told him to help me create the new painting.

That painting didn't win any prizes but still ended up being exhibited, I'd show a picture of it with my brother and I next to it if I didn't like keeping my irl family private online.

Ford also being kind of unable to move on/deal with himself is something I do to detriment. It takes a lot to deal with that, much more overcome it.

Things change, time passes, circumstances shift. But yeah, this is just my two cents on it and kind of a window to why I also write Ford and Stan the way I do.

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

10. Day off becomes show off

Note: hope you know how to fight

(Side note: i fcking love this gundam armoured aespa fr)

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the dorm as Y/n checked his phone. As usual, his mind was prepped for the day’s chaotic schedule, expecting back-to-back appointments, rehearsals, and meetings. But as he scrolled through the group’s calendar, something strange caught his eye.

No rehearsals. No interviews. No photoshoots.

A day off?

Y/n blinked. It had been ages since they’d had a full, unscheduled day since MAMA, and for a moment, he didn’t believe it. After double-checking to make sure he wasn’t missing anything, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

This was the perfect opportunity to give the girls a break—away from the stress and cameras.

Throwing on a hoodie, he knocked on each dorm room door, rousing the group from their sleep.

“Wake up, everyone! I’ve got something planned.”

Giselle was the first to emerge, hair sticking out in all directions, still wrapped in her blanket. She rubbed her eyes groggily. “Is it breakfast? Tell me you made pancakes…”

Y/n chuckled. “Not quite. But get ready. We’re going to the park. I made a lunch basket for us.”

The reaction from the rest of the members was similar—confused but intrigued. Winter poked her head out from her room, eyes half-closed. “A park? What are we, in a drama? And why is it sound romantic” She yawned loudly.

Karina followed suit, still looking half-asleep. “A park sounds… nice, I guess?”

“Hey, we can't just stay indoors when the sky is this nice.” Y/n grinned, clapping his hands together. “Now, let’s get moving.”

An hour later, the group found themselves standing at the entrance of a quaint city park. It wasn’t grand or flashy, just a small, peaceful spot nestled away from the usual bustling city life. A winding path led to a pond, ducks paddling lazily in the water, and a few bicycles stood nearby, available for rent.

“A park, really?” Winter raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “This was your big plan?”

Giselle stretched, taking in the scene. “I’m not complaining. It’s nice to have some quiet time.”

Y/n held up a tote bag filled with snacks. “Look, we’ve been running around nonstop for weeks. A relaxing day in the sun will do us all some good.”

Karina eyed him suspiciously. “What kind of snacks?”

Y/n smirked, pulling out bags of sandwiches. “The good kind.”

That seemed to do the trick. With renewed enthusiasm, the girls grabbed a few bikes from the rental stand, gearing up for a leisurely ride along the park’s paths. Y/n followed, feeling confident this would be a simple, peaceful day.

Well, until Ningning almost ran over a duck.

“Watch it!” Y/n called out as the youngest member veered off course, narrowly avoiding the waddling creature.

“I swear these bikes are taller than I remember!” Ningning complained, trying to steady herself. “Or maybe I’ve gotten shorter?”

Meanwhile, Karina wobbled dangerously as she tried to pedal forward, clearly struggling. “I think I forgot how to ride one of these things…”

Before Y/n could offer help, he was too busy dealing with his own issues. As soon as he pushed off, his bike’s front wheel jerked violently to the side, and he lost his balance, crashing into a nearby bush. The sound of his spectacular wipeout echoed through the park, causing an eruption of laughter from the girls.

“Nice strike, Y/n!” Giselle called out, barely able to contain her giggles. “You’re really setting a great example for us!”

Y/n groaned as he disentangled himself from the bush. “Okay, fine. Maybe I suck.”

It took a few minutes—and a lot more laughter—but eventually, they all managed to get moving smoothly. The group cycled leisurely along the park’s paths, the fresh air and rare freedom lifting their spirits. Despite the shaky start, the atmosphere was light and carefree.

At one point, Giselle and Winter challenged each other to a race, leaving the others trailing behind. Y/n, never one to back down, joined in—only to accidentally steer himself and Giselle straight into a patch of tall grass, much to the amusement of Karina and Ningning, who were practically in tears laughing.

“Maybe stick to managing, Y/n,” Karina teased as he pulled his bike free from the grass.

“So mean, Jimin” Y/n grumbled, but he couldn’t help grinning. “I’m just warming up.”

After a while, they parked their bikes near the duck pond and wandered over to feed the ducks. Y/n handed out snacks, though he wasn’t entirely sure feeding crackers to ducks was the right move.

Karina tossed a few pieces into the water, watching as the ducks swam around, fighting over the crumbs. “You’re supposed to give them bread, right?”

“I think we’re not supposed to give them anything, actually,” Y/n replied, scratching his head. “But... they seem happy enough.”

"Yea, they're the presences of their own kind." Winter joked. "Idiots…"

"I heard that, crybaby."

The group spent a good portion of time by the pond, laughing at the antics of the ducks. One particularly clumsy duck kept missing the food, prompting Ningning to point and say, “That one reminds me of Y/n.”

"See? I told you Ning." Winter chimed in, clearly amused by the comparison.

Y/n rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time in a while, it felt like they could just be themselves, without the constant pressure of schedules, rehearsals, or fans.

Well, except for one fan.

His eyes landed on a figure standing not too far away, partially hidden behind a tree. The person was wearing a hoodie, the hood pulled up over their face. It could’ve been anyone—a park visitor, maybe—but the way they lingered, half-concealed, raised alarm bells.

Y/n’s stomach tightened. He’d seen this kind of behaviour before. Sasaeng.

“Everything okay?” Karina asked, noticing his shift in demeanour.

Y/n kept his voice low, not wanting to alarm the rest of the group. “Don't wanna scare you, but there’s someone following us. Don’t look, he’s at 5 o’clock ”

Karina’s expression darkened. “Sasaeng?”

“Probably,” he confirmed, his eyes never leaving the figure.

Karina let out a frustrated sigh, clearly fed up with the constant intrusion on their privacy. “Can’t we just have one day? Just one?”

Y/n nodded grimly. “Unfortunately, no. But I’m going to check on him.”

Karina hesitated. “Be careful. Some sasaengs... they don’t exactly handle being confronted well.”

Y/n glanced over his shoulder, noticing that the figure had gotten closer. It was now or never. “Ehhh..I’ll be fine. Just stay here with the girls.”

As he approached the sasaeng, his heart raced, but he kept his voice calm and steady. “Hey, my guy, can I help you with something?”

The figure stiffened but didn’t move. Up close, Y/n could see they were holding a phone, angled just enough to capture footage of the group from a distance.

“I’m just a fan,” the person mumbled, their voice muffled under the hood. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Y/n clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to escalate the situation, but he also couldn’t let this slide. “Hey hey hey, I understand you’re a fan, and that’s fine. But right now, the girls are trying to enjoy some time off. This is their personal space. Please respect that.”

The sasaeng’s eyes flashed with something Y/n couldn’t quite place—frustration? Defiance? Either way, they didn’t budge. “I’m not leaving. I just want to see them.”

Y/n’s patience was running thin. “I understand, but they just want a breather from the public for today. Please don’t make this a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

The tension hung thick in the air, and for a moment, Y/n wasn’t sure if the sasaeng was going to back down. But then, with a huff of annoyance, they turned and started walking away, though Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t done.

He returned to the girls, who had been watching the whole exchange from a distance. Karina must've told them.

“Did they leave?” Giselle asked quietly.

“For now,” Y/n replied, though his gut told him this wouldn’t be the last time they saw that particular fan.

Winter’s expression softened. “You handled that well, you know.”

Y/n shrugged, trying to play it off. “Part of the job.”

When the fun resumed, Ningning was busy trying to feed a particularly stubborn duck while Giselle and Karina lounged on the grass, seemingly forgetting tension that had just passed.

“You good?” Karina asked, her tone casual, though Y/n could tell she was watching him closely. "You've been tense since that happened."

“Yeah,” Y/n nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “Everything’s fine.”

But as the day went on, Y/n couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that they were being watched. Every now and then, he’d glance over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the sasaeng again.

It wasn’t until they were packing up to leave that he caught another glimpse—this time, from a different part of the park. The same hooded figure, lurking in the shadows, watching them.

Y/n’s stomach twisted. That guy hadn’t left.

As they piled into the van, he made a mental note to stay vigilant. Today had been fun, but he knew the peaceful days were always short-lived when it came to protecting the girls.

As the van pulled away, Karina, sitting next to him, gave him a sideways glance. “You think we’re safe?”

Y/n forced a smile. “We’re always safe... as long as I’m around.”

"Damn, Oppa is confident now." Ningning teased.

"That's how I blitz through things, Ning-ah."

But deep down, he knew things were getting more complicated. Being their manager was more than just keeping track of schedules and rehearsals. He had to protect them, even on their days off.

And something told him that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d face off with that sasaeng.

-

The fan meet was supposed to be the highlight of the week—one of those heartwarming moments where aespa could connect directly with their fans.

However, things were rarely so simple for Y/n.

The chaos of his daily life as the group’s manager had become his new normal, but today was different. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, a gnawing anxiety he couldn’t quite shake.

It wasn’t just the usual nerves, either. Ever since the incident at the park with the sasaeng, Y/n had been on high alert, his senses sharper than ever. Though the obsessive fan hadn’t made a direct reappearance, there were subtle signs—cryptic messages left on social media, strange accounts following aespa’s every move, and more importantly, a lingering presence. Y/n knew they hadn’t been forgotten.

It already has issued into SM, but Y/n was still definitely on high alert.

Still, today was about the fans. The usual logistics of organizing a fan meet were challenging enough, but this time, Y/n had to be even more vigilant. He’d personally gone through each gift from the fans, carefully making sure there were no suspicious items. Everything seemed to be in order, and the meet was progressing smoothly.

The girls were laughing, chatting with their fans, and signing albums while cameras flashed, capturing every moment. Y/n was supposed to be standing off to the side, handling minor hiccups as they came. But the real trouble began when the gifts started piling up backstage.

“Y/n, can you help me move these?” one of the staff members called out, struggling with a box of gifts that had been left near the entrance. Y/n nodded, quickly setting aside his tablet and running to help.

The problem? He hadn’t exactly been paying attention to where the gifts were being taken.

Somewhere between moving boxes and juggling event logistics, Y/n realised he had lost track of the pile of fan gifts meant to be distributed to aespa later. By the time the fan meet was in full swing, fans were asking about their gifts, only for Y/n to feel a rising sense of panic as he scanned the backstage area, the gifts nowhere in sight.

“Where are they?” he muttered to himself, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

Giselle, noticing his distress, sidled up to him with a teasing grin. “Lost something, Y/n?”

"…maybe?"

"Oh." Giselle replied nonchalantly. "Surely not the fan gift right?"

He sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may or may not have misplaced the gifts... all of them.”

Giselle let out a snort of laughter, causing Ningning, who was standing nearby, to join in. “Seriously? All of them? Haven't seen you messed up majorly for a while.”

Y/n groaned. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But this is bad. The fans are going to freak out.”

Ningning shook her head, still giggling. “Don’t worry about it. Fans love sitcoms—it’s relatable. They’ll probably get a kick out of it. You know, seeing their gifts disappear into the void, never to return.”

Y/n managed a weak smile, appreciating their attempts to lighten the mood. “You’re probably right. Still... this is not my best image yet.”

The girls, seeing how genuinely stressed he was, huddled around him in support. “Don’t sweat it,” Karina said, giving him a reassuring nudge. “We’ve dealt with worse. Besides, the fans are here to see us, not obsess over some missing gifts.”

"Confident much?"

"Someone did say that's how he blitz through life." Karina mocked. "Now I thought about it, it was you, Y/n"

He appreciated their positivity, but the uneasy feeling in his chest refused to go away. The gifts were one thing, but his gut told him that something far more sinister was on the horizon.

As the fan meet began to wind down, Y/n made his rounds, keeping a watchful eye on the crowd. Most of the fans were energetic and cheerful, thrilled to be interacting with aespa, but he couldn’t help scanning for any suspicious faces.

That’s when he saw the guy.

Near the back of the room, hidden among a cluster of fans, was the same hooded figure from the park. His blood ran cold. It was the sasaeng, and they hadn’t come empty-handed.

"Guards on standby, we got a Code S." Y/n talked over the radio. "Please don’t cause a scene and find him."

Without causing a scene, Y/n subtly moved closer, positioning himself between the sasaeng and the girls. As he did, he noticed something glinting under the sleeve of the sasaeng’s hoodie—a knife.

His heart skipped a beat, and the world seemed to slow down. This is it.

Y/n had been trained for situations like this (he said trained, but he only had a taekwondo certificate a while ago), but nothing could truly prepare him for the moment it actually happened. He quickly scanned the area, assessing his options. Security wasn’t close enough to intervene immediately, and he didn’t want to alarm the fans or the group.

With a deep breath, Y/n locked eyes with the sasaeng. “Hey, you, nice seeing you again,” he called out, his voice steady but firm. “I need to talk to you.”

The sasaeng’s eyes darted to Y/n, and for a split second, Y/n saw it—the sheer obsession, the dangerous mix of admiration and delusion. The sasaeng clutched the knife tighter, their knuckles white.

"Ah fcking damn it…" Y/n muttered.

There was no time to wait for backup.

Y/n lunged forward, grabbing the sasaeng by the arm. The fan reacted immediately, swinging the knife wildly in his direction. He narrowly dodged the blade, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he wrestled the weapon from their grasp. The crowd hadn’t yet noticed the struggle, too focused on aespa.

The sasaeng fought back, landing a punch to Y/n’s side, but he didn’t let go. He managed to twist the fan’s arm behind their back, forcing the knife to clatter to the ground. Finally, security rushed in, pulling the sasaeng away and detaining them.

Panting, Y/n stood there, clutching his side, still trying to process what had just happened. The girls had noticed by now, their faces pale with shock. Ningning and Giselle were the first to rush over.

“Oppa! Are you okay?” Ningning asked, her eyes wide with concern.

Y/n nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah... yeah, still alive.”

The fan meet was quickly wrapped up after that, with security escorting the sasaeng out and the remaining fans ushered toward the exits. The event had been going so well until that moment, and the sudden chaos left everyone rattled.

Later, in the safety of their van, the girls were silent, the weight of what had happened hanging in the air. Winter was whimpering after her intense bawling from worrying about her childhood friend. Y/n could just only chuckle at his adorable best friend.

“You saved us,” Karina finally said, her voice quiet but full of gratitude. “That could’ve been so much worse if you hadn’t been there.”

Y/n shook his head, still processing everything. “I was just doing my job.”

But the gravity of what he’d done wasn’t lost on anyone, least of all him.

-

The next day, Y/n rolled out of bed with a groan. His body still ached from the scuffle with the sasaeng, and while he wasn’t one to complain, the dull throb in his side was a constant reminder of yesterday’s chaos. He stretched, wincing slightly, before getting ready for the day.

Today was supposed to be business as usual—another trip to the SM building for rehearsals and meetings—but nothing about this day felt normal. After all, it wasn’t every day that you made headlines for tackling an obsessed fan. And while Y/n wasn’t exactly thrilled about the attention, he knew it was inevitable. He’d been in the industry long enough to know how fast news spread, especially when it involved something as dramatic as a knife-wielding sasaeng.

When he met up with the girls during breakfast in the living area, they were already buzzing with energy. Kind of wild that they moved on from the incident that quickly.

Ningning grinned at him, clearly enjoying the spotlight this incident had brought to their usually quiet manager.

“Ready for your big day, supernova?” she teased, nudging him as they walked toward the van.

Y/n shot her a look, shaking his head. “Please, no, Ning. Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

“Too late,” Giselle piped up from behind, her voice full of amusement. “The whole building’s probably talking about you right now. Yunjin and Somi is gushing in the gc at the moment.”

As much as Y/n wanted to protest, he knew she was right. Ever since the news broke, he’d been flooded with messages—both from fans and people in the industry. It was surreal, really. He’d never expected to be at the centre of attention, especially not for something like this.

When they arrived at the SM building, the atmosphere was different. Usually, the bustling halls were full of staff going about their daily business, but today, there was an undeniable buzz in the air.

As soon as they stepped inside, heads turned. The receptionist, who usually gave them a polite nod, smiled broadly at Y/n, her eyes twinkling with admiration. “Good morning, hero,” she greeted him, her tone playful.

Y/n blushed, ducking his head awkwardly. “Morning…"

The teasing only got worse as they moved through the building. Other managers, particularly Minji and Joon, came up to him, clapping him on the back and offering words of congratulations.

“Hey, Y/n! Saw the news—man, that was some serious balls. How are you feeling?”Joon asked, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Y/n mumbled, trying to downplay it. “Just... doing my job.”

“Doing your job?” Minji laughed. “You tackled a guy with a knife! I’d say that’s a bit more than your typical day’s work.”

Before Y/n could respond, a familiar voice called out from behind him. “There he is—the man, the myth, the legend!”

Y/n turned to see Taeyong and Mark from NCT walking toward him, grinning from ear to ear. Taeyong immediately pulled him into a friendly hug, his eyes twinkling with pride. “We saw what happened, Y/n. That was insane. Are you sure you’re not secretly an action movie star or something?”

Mark nodded enthusiastically, his smile wide. “Dude, you’re like the coolest manager now. Everyone’s talking about how you saved the day.”

Y/n’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I secretly invested my stats in strength.”

But the teasing didn’t stop there. As they made their way up to the practice rooms, other idols—some Y/n had trained with back in the day—came up to him with wide grins and playful jabs. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

The final straw came when they passed by one of the SM rookies who was clearly too shy to approach him directly. The young trainee whispered to their friend, their eyes wide with awe as they looked at Y/n. “Is that him? The manager who stopped the sasaeng? He looks so cool...”

Y/n sighed, shaking his head as the girls stifled their laughter. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, but there was no escaping it. He had become the talk of the building, whether he liked it or not.

By the time they reached the practice room, Y/n was ready to crawl into a hole and hide. But the girls, ever perceptive, noticed how uncomfortable he was and rallied around him.

“Look,” Karina said, giving him a rare smile, “you might hate the attention, but we’re really grateful for what you did. That was seriously brave.”

“Yeah,” Winter added, her voice soft but sincere. “You're maybe an idiot, but you were genuinely cool back there.”

Ningning, of course, couldn’t resist adding her own playful twist. “Plus, now you’re famous! Maybe you’ll get your own fanbase.”

Y/n groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Please, no fanbase. That’s the last thing I need.”

But despite his protests, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. The girls’ words meant more to him than any praise from strangers. They were the ones he had sworn to protect, after all.

As they settled into their rehearsal, Y/n leaned back against the wall, watching the group with a small smile. The chaos of the past few days had been overwhelming, but it had also solidified his place in their lives. He wasn’t just their manager anymore—he was part of their family.

Just as he thought things had finally calmed down, the door to the practice room burst open, and Seulgi from Red Velvet, his bias, poked her head in. “Ya, Y/n! Heard you’re the building’s new hero! When’s the movie adaptation coming out?”

"Seulgi-noona, not you too…"

The girls burst into laughter as Y/n groaned again, knowing he’d never live this down.

But deep down, he didn’t mind. He faced down a knife-wielding sasaeng, after all. He could handle a bit of teasing.

[pkmn-monochrome]

This is an OOC ask too to hopefully help the concern? I PROMISE IM NOT A MANIPULATIVE ASSHOLE ABUSER IM A WRITER PLEASE DEAR GOD!!!!!!!! Also! Somebody's gotta play mean here and there, its what keeps gears turning. Not everyone is going to directly side with Cody and understand them. Sometimes you need conflict, it can't be sunshine and roses and everyone Agrees with Cody every time. And hell, without conflict like that, how are we going to get the moments like Cody seeing the auroras? I really loved that moment, it was sweet, sometimes the bad moments can make the good moments all the more fonder. Also I wanted to state... not every interaction that's a fight like that between two people is inherently abusive, people are going to have arguments and harsh words will be thrown along with accusations, especially since both see the other as strangers, some people aren't going to trust Cody and are going to be harsh and rude about it the same way Cody has been. Some are going to mirror how Cody treats them. What I was going for was Directly Vindictive and Harsh, the fact that you are worried about that shows that I did my job right, and as they said, if Sparks couldn't handle I would hope they would just ignore the ask and hell maybe even say to tone it down. TDLR: Not everyone is going to be especially kind and endeared to Cody, some people are going to act out just the same as they do. AND I AM A WRITER NOT AN ABUSER. PLEASE. The point of this ask is uh: I like to think I know my limits, I stick to the rules and only do what is allowed. It doesn't feel too great being compared to an abuser when I am just trying to help move a story forward. I am not abusive for being mean to a fictional character, and I am in no way attempting to be mean to Sparks when I do so. Sorry about the Novel, I just wanted to help clear some things up, because this has happened before with one of my purposefully persecutory asks and hoo boy! it doesn't feel too great that it's happening again. I promise I am not trying to hurt Sparks. I just like conflict in stories and how the characters react to such conflicts. Okay, I'm done, Sorry again about the novel sparks just wanted to explain for the people that got worried about my asks.

[Agreed. Abusive asks are what keep this blog's ball rolling. Without them, we never would have met PIKACHU, BLASTOISE, or even found out about the hacker's death. While CODY's abuse was not necessary in-universe, it was necessary from a narrative standpoint.]

[I do not believe the words or fictional actions of an asker directly reflect them as a person. Even if an asker plays the fictional role of an abuser, like as ANONYMOUS did (e.g. threatening to kill CODY, then getting angry/offended at CODY for taking that death threat seriously), I do not believe that reflects upon their morals in real life scenarios. Threatening to kill a fictional character, in a fictional roleplay scenario, does not mean that asker would ever do or say something like that to a real person. And if this asker was actually holding CODY in their hands in real life, I do not believe they would be saying such intense or harsh things to them.]

[And the inverse is true as well. Just because I am the author of PKMN-MONOCHROME, that does not mean I morally approve of everything CODY says or does. Sometimes, CODY will say harsh and confrontational things out of paranoia or pride, but that does not mean that I as the author would personally lash out at and attack my audience in the same way. If any asker of mine feels personally attacked by the things that CODY says to you, please know and remember that CODY does not speak for me, and their thoughts are not always my own.]

[Please know that I as an author never intend to hurt my audience with CODY's words/actions, and that I trust my audience to do the same for me when sending CODY their questions. Thank you.]

[star--nymph]

WIPS

By some other worldly miracle, I have managed to write some stuff. I can't believe it either. tagging peeps to join me!: @ndostairlyrium @pinayelf @shivunin @dreadfutures @plisuu

@greypetrel @cullenssweatyballsakk @rosieofcorona

@schwarznummer1 @elfroot-and-laurels

@pickelda @lyana-chan @isayashai @chanafehs @flowerofthekeep

WIP #1

Outside, she can hear Skyhold rising up with her; the distant echo of livestock being fed, the first rounds of soldiers and scouts trailing from the barracks, the clash of shields as early morning training begins, servants receiving their deliveries from the wagons and carts. Eurydice twists her hand again, letting her fingers dance between the light and shadow, her eyes peeking up at the perfect, vast, empty blue sky spying down from the hole. She shifts, her body nestled under the blankets and pillows, her other arm pinned underneath her. She spreads her free arm out around her, searching, grasping, wanting. She finds nothing, the space beside her is barely warm and growing colder. Her fingers dig into the sheets. There is a noise behind her, the hush of fabric and weight on wood, and she lifts herself toward it. Cullen is on the left side of the room, where he has organized his wardrobe and grooming supplies on a small table. He stands in front of a long square mirror, its edges ridged, a crack in the corner that crawls down the surface like a spider web. He stares at his chipped reflection as he secures the clasps of his gambeson. Even with his back to her, Eurydice can guess what his face might look like. Brow knitted, lips pressed into a thin line, most likely he is grinding his teeth without realizing it; a grave, tight expression she could not decipher, did not have the skill to understand. Only that it was the face he wore when he contemplating and had gone far from the world. His taunt shoulders and hunched back give only a hint of the thousands of things he must be thinking; what is coiled at the pit of his gut and left to fester overnight, merely ignored because he acquiesced to his body’s need to rest.

WIP #2

A constant state of discomfort. Cullen squeezed his eyes shut from the moment and shoved himself the wall, nostrils flaring as he harshly exhaled. He would persist. One foot after another, dragging as if he walked in thick sludge, he would climb the stairwell higher. Perhaps he did not remember where he had come from or how, but his body had carried him this far because it had known where it would find his sanctuary. Not in his loft nor in the chapel on his knees in front of the Blessed Bride; but behind the door where the dabbled sun pours in assaults his senses and yet embraces him in a hug. He brings a weak hand over his eyes as they begin to adjust to the noon light and starts to descend up the final set of stairs when a soft breath—a laugh, really—roots his boots to the spot. A laugh lulls like waves through a river into a song, “…gan tsaoil mhór Seothín seo ho, nach mór é an taitneamh Mo stóirín na leaba, na chodladh gan brón.” Cullen peeks through the holes of the railing and sees her there, sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to him. Her gray hair coils around her in a mess of mattered coils and knots, a nest he could barely run his hand through this morning without it catching. He hadn’t the mind to help her with it and Eurydice hadn’t cared to do it herself, though it was most likely that she hadn’t the time to spare. He sees her hair move and a tiny fist barely bigger than a sovereign caught within. Eurydice’s ears flicker up and he hears her sigh. “Shuuussshh, shuusssh A leanbh mo chléibh go n-eirí do chodhladh leat Séan is sonas gach oíche do chóir Tá mise le do thaobh ag guídhe ort na mbeannacht Seothín a leanbh is codail go foill.”

[fakeagatha]

Wrong Reality | Chapter Two | The Cafe

Summary: Eve introduces Agatha to her friends, and takes her to a coffee shop to forget about her stress of being temporarily unavailable to go back to New Jersey.

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1569

Agatha stirred, opening her eyes which adjusted to the brightness of the room. She rolled over to avoid the light coming through the curtains, and groaned when she realized where she was, and that it wasn't all some strange dream.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes and making her way towards the living room, where Eve had already made breakfast.

"Hey Agatha, did you sleep okay?" She asked, holding a plate in her hand.

Agatha nodded, "Yes, thank you... Eve."

Eve smiled, "I see you remember my name then!" She said enthusiastically, making Agatha roll her eyes and sit down.

Eve gave her a plate of food as well as a drink, and the witch took them. She didn't stay quiet for long, as once again she looked up at Eve, "I need to go back to my home, I don't live here."

The woman nodded, "I guess I could drive you there, I wouldn't want to make you fly or take any public transport on your own so soon," She sighed. "Unless you'd rather do that?"

Agatha nodded, "Well, considering you ran me over, a drive back would be nice," She said, and Eve shook her head. "Right, of course."

The two woman looked towards the door as they heard a knock, Eve answered, to see her friend and co-worker, Amanda. 

"Eve, are you alright? You didn't show up to work yesterday and didn't respond to any of our texts, we got worried!" She said, peering at the strange woman on her friend's couch.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, I had a bit of an incident..." She mumbled, "Would you like to come in?" Hearing that, Agatha muttered under her breath, as Amanda entered the house.

Agatha and Amanda silently stared at each other for a few seconds, before Eve broke the silence, "Amanda, this is Agatha, my..." She paused, looking at her awkwardly. "Why don't I just tell you what happened?" Eve sighed, and sat down opposite Agatha, as Amanda sat in a nearby armchair.

Agatha bit her lip, "Long story short, this woman hit me with her car and was kind enough to give me a place to stay for the night, as I have no fucking idea how I ended up-"

"Yep, exactly, what she said." Eve smiled nervously, and Amanda stared at the two in silence for a while, before speaking. "Seriously? You ran someone over again?" She deadpanned, and Agatha gasped, "Oh, so I'm not the first person you've almost killed?"

Eve put her hands up in defense, her eyes widening, "It was just a bump this time! I barely touched her! See? Shes completely fine!" Eve gestured to the witch, and the other two rolled their eyes.

Amanda shook her head, before standing up. "Well, I best get back to work. I'll let the other's know you're taking the day off. Don't run anyone else over in the meantime, okay?" She smirked, and Eve shut the door behind her.

As a moment of silence filled the room again, Agatha spoke, "Can you take me home now?"

Eve nodded, "I just need to prepare myself first, I suppose, it's not a short drive you know." Agatha shrugged, leaning back into the couch. Truthfully, Eve assumed that Agatha wasn't mentally well at this point.

After a short while, the two walked outside towards Eve's car. As she attempted to turn on her engine, the car didn't start. "Dammit..." She muttered, and Agatha seemed more annoyed than her.

After several failed attempts, she took out her phone, "I'll have to get it serviced, I can't not have a car," She sighed, and Agatha groaned dramatically, watching the younger woman as she tapped her screen and made a few phone calls.

Eventually a pickup truck came by and took Eve's car, while they walked to the nearby car service. "I can't believe this!" Agatha shouted, crossing her arms as they walked down the road.

"It's not even your car." Eve frowned, putting her hands in her pockets.

"And you're not in some random state that you don't live in!"

Eve shushed Agatha as they arrived after around twenty minutes, and walked over to her car which was being looked at by a young man.

The guy looked up, nodding at the two, before speaking. "It seems like it has been affected by some force, did you notice anything off about your car earlier?" He asked.

Eve bite her lip, "It was making a strange sound yesterday, but I didn't think anything of it." She responded, and the man nodded.

"This will take a couple days to fix. Can you give us a number to call so we can notify you when the car is running?" 

She agreed, writing her phone down on a crumpled piece of paper she was offered. She thanked the staff, and dragged a sulking Agatha out of the shop.

After a while of complaining, the women ended up in the town's center, as Eve turned to Agatha. "How about we stop and get coffee somewhere?" She offered.

"Whatever." Agatha grumbled, being dragged once again into a random cafe.

They sat down together, adjusting their chairs while taking in the atmosphere, the scenery of potted plants and dim lighting giving a sense of peace. "I assume you're paying?" Agatha asked, and Eve nodded. "Yes, Agatha."

Eve's face suddenly brightened, as she was approached by a waiter. "Julian!" She exclaimed, "I didn't know you worked here. What about the convenience store?"

The teen smiled as he greeted Eve, "Well, they fired me," He rolled his eyes, "They were convinced I was using my phone during my shift, which I was, but they still didn't have any proof! I think it was more of an excuse so they could hire the owner's daughter instead," He scoffed.

Eve's expression turned into shock at his words, "They fired you for that? That's so unfair! How is that even allowed?" She said, staring at him with slight anger in her gaze.

Agatha crossed her arms, "Life in unfair, Eve." 

"Right. Julian, this is Agatha. Agatha, this is Julian." 

Julian extended his hand, and Agatha reluctantly shook it, "I didn't know you were friends with children." She muttered, and Julian turned red as he looked at Eve.

"Well, first of all, he's almost twenty. Not a child." She said calmly, and Agatha laughed, "Oh Eve, he's quite literally still a baby!" 

She shoved Agatha, and Julian cleared his throat, "Can I take your orders then?" He asked.

"I want one of those breakfast sandwiches, and an apple juice. Specifically the box." Agatha demanded, and Eve raised an eyebrow, "Uh, I'll just have a coffee, thanks." 

Julian nodded, and walked away, before returning after a while with their orders.

They had their food and drinks in peace, surprisingly, as Agatha seemed to forget the whole incident for the time being. 

"So, how do you know that kid?" Agatha suddenly asked. "He's a little young to conveniently meet someone so old. What's the story behind that?"

Eve chuckled nervously, "He's in my writing class, that's all." 

Agatha scoffed, "I've been alive for more than 300 years, I can tell that kid is literally in love with you. Am I good at observing or are you just blind?"

Eve stayed silent, completely astonished. She wasn't sure which surprised her more- The fact that this delusional woman claimed 'to be more than 300 years old' or the fact that she was able to tell so easily that Julian liked her. "When my son left for college, I had more time to myself... I guess I started exploring a bit. I joined the writing class that I wanted, and I reached out and met new people." She said hesitantly. "He does like me, he's told me."

"And you're just fine with that?"

"... I like him too, in a way." She said quietly, and Agatha looked at her in surprise. "Oh."

Eve sighed, "But it's not just him I like. It's really complicated, I'm just kind of going with the flow, I suppose." She explained, and Agatha looked away in thought, then continued eating. "You do you then."

Eve smiled awkwardly, taking a sip on her coffee, before trying to lighten the mood, "Well, what's your love life?"

Agatha immediately stopped chewing, and looked up at her. "Divorced, that's it."

"Ah, right, sorry." She said apologetically.

A moment of silence went by, before she spoke again. "Her name was Rio. We were together for a while." Agatha muttered through her food. "Oh, I didn't realize you were-" 

"A lesbian?" Yes, ever heard of them?

Eve chuckled, "I have yes. In fact, the other person I mentioned I was interested in, is in fact a woman." 

Agatha looked up at her in surprise, but also amusement. "Huh, that's ironic. It explains a lot actually." Eve went to question her, but decided against it.

After they finished, Eve paid the check, and walked back to her house with Agatha, who became slightly moody again upon remembering her situation.

They arrived back shortly after, and Eve set her things down. "Why don't you get some rest like the doctor said, and we can do something later?" She asked, and Agatha surprisingly complied.

"See you later." She said as she walked into the guest room, and sat on the bed, delighted to notice that there was a TV, so she could at least have some form of entertainment.

She laid down, flicking through some of the channels, falling in and out of consciousness every now and then, trying to focus on the movie she had come across, as the hours went by, waiting for something she didn't know.

[saintsbuffy]

You’re an angel, i’m a dog.

Pairing: Lucanis/Rook Lucanis/Rook/Spite

TW: injury detail, heavy sexual references, abuse, grief, suicidal idolisation, implied non con, spite being a freak, possession, substances.

Word count: around 5000

Chapter: 2/?

2 - DEVIL LIKE ME

— Rook is injured, Lucanis tries to help.

Lucanis - Bold

Spite - Italics

We've been waiting for this haven't we.

Spites familiar voice echos in Lucanis's head, the feral creatures nails claw his mind as the shadow figure takes form beside him.

Rook tentatively approaches as Lucanis glances around the room before pulling over a large crate for him to sit on and gesturing for Rook to take the armchair opposite him. Even though the crate is slightly too small for him and a few inches shorter than the chair it manages to hold his weight and leaves him eye level with her.

She's watching him and he moves the equipment to one side, careful to pick up any glass shards as he piles tubes and viles into a corner and stacks the books clearing the space between them. His face remains a mask of ease but she can't help but notice the small bead of sweat that forms at his brow. When was the last time he had hosted a girl in his room? He couldn't remember. Come to think of it, when was the last time Lucanis had hosted anyone in his room?

Lucanis shifts in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his arms. He had always been bad at making small talk but now he felt like he'd forgotten how to speak entirely. After a moment the silence is broken by a low humming noise, some variation of a song his grandmother would sing to him many years ago. The noise fades in and out but Rook dosent react, Lucanis is the only one who can hear it.

Quiet.

The girl is studying he realises. Head cocked to one side she watches how he moves and breathes, her guard his up, her discomfort increasing and yet she dosent make a move to leave.

"So..." Rook rests her arms on the oversized chair, one knee crossed other the other, fingers tapping on the edge. "Are you going to tell me how you did that thing out there." She raises her hand and seems to be trying to project her power but all he sees is empty air.

He had felt her magic approaching of course, the thrum of power had given him plenty of warning. The spell she had encountered had taken almost a decade to perfect, he had spent countless hours working on it with his Cousin. The barrier could be locked to one room and only lasted as long as the creator was present. It was supposed to keep out any magic users that didn't possess the Dellamorte bloodline. Clearly it was faulty if Rook had gotten through. He'd have to ask Illario about that when he next saw him.

"I am not entirely sure." Lucanis takes in the way her eyes waver, she doesn't seem annoyed that the spell had managed to stuff her magic but curious, perhaps slightly hopeful? "I do not use many spells, my specialities lie more in weapons and potions. My cousin helped with this one, you might have seen him around.”

She can see that from the display on his desk to the objects that fill his room and line the shelves, a few swords hanging on rusty nails that stick out of the stone.

"Ah, the handsome one." Rook recalls, as he shoots her an unamused look. "So could you, create a spell or a potion to stop it?"

"Why would you want to stop it?" He queries watching the way her hand goes to a chain around her neck, the small opaque crystal attached to it resting just between her breasts, Lucanis moves his eyes away quickly. His gaze goes back to her face then to the wall behind her as he avoids her eye contact.

He had seen the necklace before but had never gotten a good view of it, in fact he could not recall a time he seen her without it. No bigger than a marble, the edges jagged but dull enough to not cut into her skin. Whatever it was it meant something to her. Another piece of the puzzle.

"I mean, to help control it. Like the way your daggers seem to hold power, I can't have another mission go sideways because of me." A half truth.

He does not have to look her in the eyes to know that's not exactly what she meant.

"Perhaps you should ask Emmrich about that kind of stuff, maybe he could make you some sort of object to hone your energy."

In his time here Lucanis had seen the man do incredible things with his gifts, he had even come to him for help occasionally to identify any objects found whilst out on missions.

"I don't think that would work." Her lips pull into a grimace as she continues to fiddle with the silver chain. "And besides i'm not really sure how to feel about the old man, he frightens me a bit." Rook was both equal parts unsettled and intrigued by the man and his skeletal companion.

Lucanis raises an eyebrow but lets her talk.

"Don't tell him I said that though, you two are friends right?"

She recalls the few times she had watched Lucanis enjoying himself over dinner and drinks, in the library studying whatever it was he was searching for. Out of everyone here the two men seemed to click, both quiet and strange in their own way.

"I do not know him that well." Lucanis does not have friends. He is here to complete his contract and keep his home safe, that’s all.

Misunderstanding his blunt reply as sarcasm, Rook laughs. It's muffled by a hand over her mouth.

His chest tightens, wondering what it would sound like to hear a full true laugh from her. He wanted to find out. There was no question that Rook was attractive. Her elven features mixed the human way she spoke and carried herself made most people find her off putting. She tried to make herself invisible, had spent her first weeks at the Lighthouse brushing off everyone's attempts of inclusion but Lucanis had seen the way she made their companions laugh without even trying, the way her smile lit up a room. She didn't even have to try, he couldn't stand it.

Had the room always felt this small? Of course it had he was sleeping in a dammed storage closet for gods sake.

The desire that coiled low in his stomach was not as easy to ignore now as it was when he'd first laid eyes on her. All it takes is one moment of wanting and a mirror image of Lucanis draped in shadows manifests through the table. The creature contorts and twits its body, limbs cracking into place until it's crouched beside Rook. Lucanis closes his eyes reaching deep inside to sever that tie between man and demon but it's already started to knot. The door a-jar.

Lucanis grits his teeth as Spite inspects her, but the more he tries to shut him out the more the demon takes form. His discomfort and Rook's distraction only seems to make Spite more excited as it moves from side to side head twisting like a starved animal about to feast.

I can see why you're so fascinated by her. Such a pretty little thing.

Spites hand is less than an inch away from caressing Rook's cheek, hand going, lower, lower, until it comes to rest just below where Lucanis can't see under the table. Lucanis lets out a disgruntled cough, clearing his throat then scoots his crate back from table.

Spite's eyes snap up at him, and it lets out a laugh the look of hunger fading into a feline grin.

Leave us. Do. Not. Touch her.

You can't make me.

If you're going to stay, be quiet and behave.

Spite lets out a whine and glares back at him but obeys hands up in surrender as those glowing eyes ablaze. Some days Lucanis could push him out if he really tried. It would take all his strength and then some but each day was different. Recently the active days seemed to be outweighing the quiet ones. It had taken him years to train his mind against the demon, to build up walls and keep the doors locked. But no matter how badly Lucanis wanted him gone he would always let Spite back in.

There was no one without the other, they depended on each-other for survival. He had wasted almost his entire life trying to find a cure for this curse placed upon him and had come to accept the grim fact that if he wanted to live, Spite would be along for the ride.

Fine, fine. She's all yours. I won't touch her...unless she asks us to.

Lucanis stands to his full height kicking back the crate, he moves through the shadow demon purposefully causing the the smoke to separate. As Spite's form reconstructs itself it watches him as he places two china cups onto the table, both different sizes and designs. Rook lets out a small yawn as she waits, utterly unaware of the domestic currently playing out between the demon and the man as she watches Lucanis. There's a clattering of boxes being moved and rearranged then he lights a flame under what appears to be some sort of homemade stove. After a few minutes he returns with a steaming pot and the smell of coffee fills the small room.

Rook holds out her cup for him as he pours out the dark brown liquid until it reaches the top then fills his own. Now that he's closer she can see the black power under his nails, a cluster of tiny white scars standing out in contrast against his tan skin. She wants to ask about the experiment he was doing when she had interrupted him earlier or pry more about her magic but it's late and she's exhausted. Shes beginning to ajust to the dim candle light, the subtle warmth the flames gave off as the occasional gust of cold air moved past her and the presence of the man sitting opposite her.

Sure, it was a bit awkward and she wasn't sure if he was utterly repulsed by her or just had invited her out of civility but Rook had been searching for a distraction from her restless sleep and she had found one. They didn't need to speak, to fill the silence, just being in each others presence was enough. Maybe it was the adrenaline wearing off that had made her feelings intangible but could swear she felt a strange sort of comfort when she was with him.

Instead of voicing the million questions she yearned to have answered Rook leans back in her seat against the worn velvet and lets the cup warm her hands as raises the it in a thanks then takes a sip. It's bitter and warm, not hot enough to burn but the taste leaves an unwelcome flavour on her tongue. The disgusted expression on her face forms because she can stop it. Lucanis is waiting for her reaction.

"What? No milk or sugar?" Rook's voice sounds strained as she gulps down the liquid mid sentence forcing herself to take another sip.

She'd had coffee before, at the training camp it was valued as much as gold. But that had been a watered down version, reheated and shared between large groups, whatever Lucanis had was strong and fresh. Perhaps this was another thing she'd have to adjust to.

The corner of Lucanis's mouth raises, those full lips forming an almost smile as he watches her drink before trying his own.

"I like it black." He states before refilling his cup.

Rook hides another nervous laugh and gives him in a look that says of course you do. She would not make a very good spy he thinks.

She coughs as she reaches the bottom of the cup wiping a hand over her mouth before placing it down and pushing it slightly away from her. A fake smile of gratitude plastered across her face.

"Thanks for the coffee, and the company."

Lucanis's doesn’t seem to register the comment, his gaze entirely focused on the spot just behind where she sits, eyes occasionally flicking to check that she hadn't moved then back again to not so empty space. The humming song starts again.

There an obviously tension between Rook and Lucanis but neither of them quite wants the moment to end. Lucanis had never been very good at making friends, hell, he struggled enough as it was to keep loose acquaintances. But since he would be staying here for the foreseeable future he might as well try to be civil with her. He couldn't leave now, not when he was so close to finding a cure, not when he and his cousin had a chance at freedom, not when this girl was before him could be the key to everything. Regardless of his intentions Rook had played a part in his rescue and he would be indebted to her until the contract was completed.

I think she's starting you like you. Thats a first, should we tell her what we really are?

I thought you were staying quiet.

How can I when I can hear all your thoughts. I wonder what she would say if you told her what you want to do to her-

Spite seems to forget what it was saying as the creature stops mid taunt, turning in a circle sniffing the air its hollow eyes turn from Lucanis to Rook and back again.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

Lucanis's temple is throbbing as he rubs the palm of his hand against it trying to mask the feeling with more questions. If he could keep her talking for long enough maybe he could gain back enough control for Spite to leave them.

"When you have these nightmares, what do you see. Tell me about them."

Straight to the point then. Rook thinks, it would be easy for her to lie about it but she has nothing to lose.

"You want me to help you or not?" Lucanis barks out when Rook doesn't immediately answer. He doesn't mean for his tone to come out like that, cruel and disingenuous. Every step he makes towards Rook feels like another two back into the dark.

"Sorry-" She starts only to be cut off by his raised hand.

"Stop apologising." He shuts her down. "Just start from the beginning, anything you can remember might help us to better understand your...situation. When did they start."

She should be sorry, she was a Mage who had killed tens, if not hundreds of innocent people. Even if she had been following orders, even if it had been an accident, she had killed, no man would ever mourn one less Mage in the world.

You have more blood on your hands than she does.

I take no pleasure in killing, unlike you.

It’s impolite to lie Lucanis. I know you get off on it as much as I do. Oh look you've made her cry…

Spites observation panics him for a moment but when he looks at her there's no tears present. The only evidence of sadness is a fait sheen to her pale eyes, that haunted look he had seen before in the mirror on his own face. Greif.

As Rook recalls her nightmares and the memories that interlinked them she wished, not for the first time that they had left her to die in that rubble. How was it fair that the gods got to pick and choose who gets the power of creation, of life and who gets that of death and destruction. How she longed to be able to bring her friends back from the dead, reach down upon the earth and feel the roots grow.

"I think they must have started when I was a child but I could never remember anything, only waking up to find myself screaming. The night after the first time my magic manifested there was a thunderstorm, I started dreaming about this woman, I can't recall her face but it was like she was glowing in green flame."

Lucanis's focus is wavering as he tries to hang onto each of her words, something about green flames, a wolf, the sound of thunder, demons and the veil. His time is running out. The pain was behind his eyes now, vision blurring as he blinked over and over trying to shut it out.

"Lucanis." Rooks voice brings him back for a moment. "Are you alright?"

Smells like blood.

Get out of my head.

Can't you smell it? Let us taste her, just this once.

I said, GET OUT.

But Spite was right. The metallic tang in the air was undeniable, he could smell it. A shudder of dread snapped him back into reality. He was looking at her how, really looking. Had Rook always looked this pale? Her eyes were hollow, sunken in slightly and ringed with grey. Her lips parted as she paused mid sentence.

"You are bleeding." Lucanis's voice startles her as she has a moment of confusion before the realisation sets in.

She shifts the seat back a few inches looking down at herself before placing her hand to where the black shirt was sticking to her side. When she brings it away her palm is covered with a fresh coating of blood. Her mouth forms a silent 'oh' as she places her hand back against the wet shirt and holds it in place.

Before Lucanis can stop her she stands up swaying slightly using her free hand to steady herself against the table as he rushes to her side, the crate he was sat on lets out a screech against the stone as he flys across the room towards her.

Told you I smelled blood.

"LEAVE US." He doesn't mean for those words to be voiced aloud. Lucanis's voice comes out through gritted teeth, if Rook notices him speaking to the air she doesn't react - too focused on trying not to pass out.

It's not the blood that makes Lucanis feel like he's going to throw up but what comes after. This is how Spite feeds, the demon can't touch her in its usual state but pain, death and bloodshed calls to it the way a holy man might call upon the gods. When in battle the bond between Spite and Lucanis is forged from violence, all it takes is for the first kill to commence and then two become one. Most days the demon can do little more than cause him headaches with taunts and mind games but in battle Spite can take over fully possessing him and using Lucanis's body as a vessel for violence.

He wasn't sure if Rook's injuries would be enough to let Spite in all the way there was no rule book for this kind of thing but he didn't dare send her away. Not when she was in so much pain, not when seeing her in pain caused him so much.

With one arm under hers and the one carefully hooked around her waist so not to touch the wound he guides her to the table and holds up her weight against his own until her legs secure against it, the table is low enough that when he pushes her back slightly she's able to sit on it without much strain.

"Keep pressure on the wound." He leaves her for just a moment hurrying across the room and pouring out something that look like water onto his hands then wiping them clean on his sheets.

Lucanis was not healer but had learnt survival young and patched himself up after many a battle. He had been nine the first time he'd had to fix a dislocated bone, thirteen when he learnt how to stitch his own wounds.

Rook winces as she feels the throbbing pain grow, her skin heating as sweat begins to coat her skin. She has no idea how long it’s been bleeding or when the stitches had ripped. It was as if until she saw the blood there had been no pain and now it felt like she had an arrow in her side all over again.

When Lucanis returns he's holding a pile of clean cloth and a bottle of clear liquid. "I'll need to redress the wound and clean it."

Rook continues to look down at her side fingers now slick with her own blood she acknowledges him with a faint noise that he can’t make out.

"I need you to look at me. I don't think Varric will forgive me if I let you bleed out on my table." That earns a pained laugh. "This is going hurt." He adds.

"Okay." She nods again this time meeting his eye as Lucanis hand holds her chin to look at him. Defiance lives in her eyes but she agrees to let him help her, this is a woman who does not want to be pitied or saved. He knows exactly how that feels.

Lucanis lets her go and pushes his sleeves up further until the material can't go any higher up his biceps. With little effort he rips the cloth into strips and places it onto the table beside her along with the bottle. Slowly, cautiously, he stands infront of her assessing the situation. Rook moves her body slightly so that she's turned half to the side giving him better actress to her and her hand beings to pull up the bottom of her shirt.

"Do you want me to stop, it's not too late. I can wake one of the others-"

"No it's fine." Rook cuts him off. "It really doesn't hurt that much." Her face says otherwise.

It would be easier for him to remove her top completely but the thin material leaves little to imagination, it's clear Rook wears nothing underneath. Instead Lucanis pulls a dagger from his belt and cuts away at the ruined fabric leaving only enough to cover her. The bulk of the bandages are almost completely soaked through. As he unbinds them from her ribs and throws them onto a pile on the floor Rook swears when the wound is exposed to the cold air.

We could have her right now, on this table.

"It's not as bad as I thought, but you're to need to sit still for the next part. Drink this." He holds the bottle up to her lips and lifts it so she can drink, one hand underneath to catch anything that spills.

Rook splutters and coughs as it burns the back of her throat but takes a few gulps as Lucanis lets out a loose a breath.

With the old bandages removed and blood wiped clean he can now see only three out of the eight stitches had torn open, and other than the irritated red skin around the wound there’s no sign of infection.

"That was fucking disgusting. Do me a favour and just keep talking. If I don't pass out from this, I might die if you serve me anymore beverages." Rook states, eyes closed as she lets out a low whimper whilst Lucanis begins to wipe away the blood. “And if I die.” As grits her teeth. “I will come back and fucking haunt you.”

Such dirty words for such a pretty mouth.

Don’t look at her.

Imagine the sweet sounds she would make.

"I'm not very good at talking." Lucanis confesses, undeterred by her empty threats.

He doubts very much that she would want to hear about how he'd spent almost his entire childhood being experimented on in a cage by the only maternal figure he'd never known.

"Oh i've noticed." Her eyes are wide and alert now, pupils dilating. "Seriously say anything, sing a song tell me a story, make something up. Tell me about possessed life, I bet he's here isn't he, the demon, is he here? Is he a he?"

Rook might not have been thinking clearly to start but now she’s racking her brain for everything she learnt about this man so far. Not only was she about to let an almost stranger - at best coworker, operate on her in a storage cupboard she was about to let a man possessed by a demon to do it. Other than overhearing Neve refer to the demon as 'Spite' once she had no idea if that was its name or what it even was.

Did demons even have pronouns?

"It's here, it likes the blood." If Lucanis was trying to comfort her he was failing miserably.

From the corner of his eye Lucanis can see spite crouching beneath the table, its slightly see through finger poking at the small pool of blood on the ground. Despite the finger going through the blood and stone floor Spite puts it into its mouth and pretends to lick the finger clean.

Delicious.

"Great, well there's plenty of that here. Sounds like a charming guy." Rook lets her head fall back and stares up at the ceiling as she waits for Lucanis to fishing threading the needle.

Lucanis bites down on his bottom lip as he finishes threading the needle then sterilises the wound with what smells like alcohol. He dabs at the blood with no warning and she clutches back as it stings sending shivers down her spine that make her want to kick him.

"What does it feel like?" She asks the corners of her eyes glistening but again, no tears fall.

"At first I thought my soul had been split in half. But now, it’s more like having two sets of hands instead of one, eyes in the back of my head. The power is…unimaginable."

He pulls her skin together holding the flesh with a forefinger and thumb as the needle pushes through for the first stitch. Over rooks deep breathing he swears the faint sound of thunder booms overhead.

"I have heard sories of demons that can possess men. The Grey Wardens knew a lot about dark magic. How did you come to be this way? I mean what happened to you. You weren't born like this, were you?" Rook seems to be sitting straighter now, the tonic kicking in and numbing some of the pain.

"That-Is none of your concern."

"Does it hurt?" Rook knows she should probably change subjects from the strain in his voice but when she looks up at him the answer is written all over his face.

"Yes and no." The look of agony is gone in seconds and he's back to concentrating on her wound.

His hair despite being tied back falls over his shoulder as is long enough that she feels it brush against her bare skin. She can feel his warm breath against her torso and the occasional faint tickle of his beard as he gets too close.

"Does it hurt right now?" Rook wonders looking around the room as if she would find a demon spawn hiding in the shadows, but she sees nothing.

"You don't have to worry about me. You are the one bleeding."

The second stitch is though.

"I'm bleeding all over your bedroom and you won't even tell me how you got possessed by a creepy demon, wow." Rook tries to make an exaggerated gasping sound but it's cut short as the third stitch goes though and the wind is knocked out of her. "Fucking ouch."

"You are very dramatic." He was glad she couldn't see his faint smile as he continued to work.

This was good, if she’s was coherent enough to make jokes and swear at him hopefully she wouldn’t pass out anytime soon. Lucanis makes a mental note that Rook often uses humour as cover when she's hurt.

The pain has faded to a dull ache now, Rooks body already starting to feel a bit stronger with each passing moment but her mind is still hazy. She’s trying to stay awake but all she can think about was how wants him to never stop talking. Each word keeps her tethered to this plane. That accent, she could listen to it forever.

“We are almost done.” Lucanis moves closer to her - his large body is almost completely covering hers as he leans so that he can tie the bandages around her back. He stops half way realising he can't quite reach it without the possibility of hurting her. Rook feels his hand lightly touching her shoulder indicating which way she needs to move as she swings her legs back round to give him better access.

Now Rook sits on the other side as he leans over, legs hanging over the table, back facing him. He doesn't mean to stare when he looks down at her exposed back but there's no helping it as his eyes travel from the bottom of her spine to the top of her half ripped shirt and the array of scars that covered almost every inch of skin in between. Some more faded than others, the freshest couldn't have been more than a year old. Each one thin and precise line, this had been no accident, she had either been forced to take a beating or let someone do this to her.

"Arms up." He instructs as she strains lift them with little protest but manages to keep them held in place long enough for him to loop the cloth around.

He begins to tie the fresh bandages around her, one hand laying flat across her ribs to keep them in place. The rough contrast of the tips his fingers brush against the exposed skin above her bandages. Once he's sure the bandages are tight enough he feels himself moving without thinking. Rook doesn't react as a finger traced the outline of a particularly deep bit of scar tissue that falls almost directly in the centre of her spine.

He had seen this kind of torture before, often inflicted on disobedient soldiers or deserters. It was possible to get rid of most scars and wounds with certain kinds of magic, for cosmic or personal reasons he had seen it done more than once. But some were not as easy to remove as others and perhaps she had chosen to keep them as a reminder for what had been done to her. He shouldn’t care, it was none of his business.

He could feel the demonic energy that ran in his veins drumming under his skin as he flexed his hand by his side. He was only human-ish after all.

Who did this to you? He wondered. I will make them beg for my blade. He should have no right to care. He had done that and worse to his own enemies, what made seeing it on her so different? Spite who had had been suspiciously dormant the entire time Rook had her wounds tended to was now flicking in and out of existence behind her. The demon Rook from its crouch by her side and for once the demon had nothing to say.

They were both thinking the same thing.

"These are not from battle." Lucanis states as he pulls the cut up edge of the shirt back down to cover what he can see of her side.

"No, they are not." Rook answers as she moves off the table to stand. Her cheeks have more colour to them now he notices as she refuses his help when she steadies herself. "Thank you, I think i've ruined your night enough. I should get going now."

Lucanis accepts her thanks with a nod not sure what to do now. He wants to ask her to stay. Only so he can keep an eye on her incase the wound gets worse of course. He couldn't exactly offer up his bed, a girl like her deserved to sleep on beds of silks and feathered mattresses.

In his first week at the Lighthouse he had been given a large room in the north wing with a plush four poster bed and a dozen pillows. It had felt like he was suffocating in the comfort of that bed, he had tried removing all the bedding on the second night. Placing the mattress on the floor on the third then welcoming the cool stone against his bare back on the fourth. None of it had worked. He felt like a dog without the comfort of its cage. It had been years since he'd slept on anything more comfortable than a couple of crates pushed together with a blanket over the top. Not that he slept much as it was.

As Lucanis begins to put away his things he can feel eyes on him as Rook stands as if she's waiting for him to say something. "Right, of course." Lucanis clears his throat then grabs something off his bed and passes it to her. "Get some rest if you can, i'm no healer so you should probably get somebody to look at that in the morning if you can."

Rook takes the shirt from him and begins to pull her old ruined one over her head with one hand as Lucanis turns to give her some privacy. He can feel his blood heating as the awareness that she’s half naked in his room sinks in. She places the discarded top on the pile of bloody cloth and bandages and cringes as she takes in the mess around the room. Dried blood on the floor, glass on the table, the door hanging on its hingers. After today she didn't think she would ever be able to face him again.

His cream collared shirt reaches her mid thigh, the size of it looking ridiculous on her. She was shorter than the average elf and even though Lucanis was tall for a human he only had a few inches on her but his build had made the shirt seem least thrice her normal size. When she finishes dressing Lucanis is still facing away from her - arms resting against the table as he tried not to think about what Rook might look like in his shirt. He can hear Spites perverted thoughts begin to pile up in his mind making him want to flip the table and its contents scores the room. Instead he re arranging his work and places the books back onto the table as he finishes cleaning off any trace of blood, any trace of her.

"Goodnight, Rook." Lucanis mumbles.

The way he says it sounds like goodbye. So this was it then.

"Goodnight."

Rook waits a few more seconds to see if he will turn back and then, she’s gone.

end chapter notes -

everyday i learn something new about his family and backstory (thanks twitter)

this chapter was only meant to be 3k long but i ended up writing about 6k and cutting it down a bit, their dynamic is so fun to write. anyone has information, head canons or theories about him pls share id love to hear them!

do we hate grandma or not? (i think we do)

as always @/saintscain on twitter, hope you enjoyed

[confused-much]

My emotions are high right now so I may not think straight but let me get this straight.

EVERYBODY survived except Kashimo (who cares), Gojo and Choso.

KENJAKU/GETO lives and so does Takaba (or whatever his name is, I don't care at this point).

Gojo died fighting Sukuna just so others stood a chance against Sukuna later.

Yuta used his dead body to fight – and the guy didn't even do much to Sukuna. Gojo agreed because he view himself as a weapon – but that just means that no matter what, his students also thought of him as a weapon

Despite all of the above NO ONE grieves him (Choso isn't even acknowledged), KUSAKABE blames him for everything, and that's it

TSUMIKI (or rather her grave) gets a panel or two with Megumi and Shoko – but not Gojo.

The only person who even thought of Gojo in the last chapter was Yuji, but the context basically was for us readers: "forget about Gojo, don't you get tired of Gojo Satoru? there are other characters". Like yeah, no shit, Gojo would have high hopes for his students and for Yuji specifically but did we REALLY need to have Gojo himself stating "aren't you tired of Gojo Satoru?" (maybe it was a wrong translation, idk).

Overall, I'm so angry, sad, and disappointed with this manga. Yes, I wanted Gojo back, I was hoping for his comeback for a long time, but at some point I've accepted that it's over. But I never expected such treatment that Gojo would get after his death.

He was always just a weapon. His friend didn't even seem sad when she was asked to help Yuta use Gojo's body (something even Gojo acknowledged in that chapter). Gege had an opportunity to make Shoko say ANYTHING about Gojo during the Tsumiki grave scene, hell, MEGUMI, also could say anything!

But they didn't. Because Gege has a hate boner for Gojo Satoru.

Gojo poured all his heart and energy into growing and helping his students. He saved Yuta, he saved Yuji, he took care of Megumi, he was apparently friends with Shoko.

And yet no one grieved him. No one acknowledged his death. Fucking KENJAKU had a panel with Takaba indicating that he survived, but no, Gojo and Choso had to die... because.

And only Yuji ever remembers Gojo. Only Yuji said that he would not be able to forget Gojo Satoru.

And I didn't need much, you know? I just wanted people close to him to be sad about Gojo. People to reminisce about him. Someone to show that they cared about Gojo apart from his strength. But I feel that all his students just... Forget about him. True, Yuji is the protagonist so that's why he had that panel with Gojo, but what about Megumi? Why couldn't he show that he cared about Gojo? Why didn't we have at least a mention of Gojo from his lips?

Gege wasted one chapter at characters talking about what could and couldn't do against Sukuna and yapping about MVPs of the fight and such. Couldn't that chapter be used for something else? I know this is Jujutsu Kaisen and characters never grieve but, come on, those were the last chapters! This was the perfect moment to honour the dead, to acknowledge that Gojo Satoru was always more than his strength! For Yuji to be grateful that he could at least spent some time with Choso before his death! For Megumi to realise that he killed his guardian (well, Sukuna did in his body) and try to move past this trauma (by, for example remembering something that Gojo once told him or sth).

Idk. The ending is just lackluster for me. I can't say I hate it but I certainly don't like it. And it's not because Gojo is dead – I've accepted it, sad as it is. But because Gojo (and Choso) are THE ONLY ones that died. Sukuna was such a threat, the final boss, the one who was unbeatable... and yet with all of the characters surviving apart from Gojo and Choso, it just feels empty. The stakes that were during that fight don't exist anymore. Because how could Sukuna ever be considered a threat if almost all his attackers survived? He killed Gojo, why it was so hard to kill anyone else, people who were considerably weaker than Gojo? Yeah, I know Shoko is a good healer, and Ui Ui was there, but come on.

Well, now I guess I just stick to writing fanfics and pretend that all of this didn't happen. Who knows, maybe after anime ends, we all truly forget about Gojo Satoru and Jujutsu Kaisen.

[itmeansiris]

The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Good Morning Brindleton Bay Gen 1 pt.58

With all the birthdays past and the house renovation's mostly finished, the family finally got some much needed rest and relaxation that weekend. With Spirit and little cousins Van and Mitchell as long term houseguest the place felt warm and full of life and love.

Spirit (as always) was the first awake. She makes a fresh batch of orange juice before she sits in the living room turning on the weather, when Kason joins her. They chat for a while before Spirit gets up and heads to the kitchen.

Kason: I can take care of breakfast, rest.

Spirit: My dear an old women has few pleasures. Feeding my family is one of them.

She whips up a batch of Belgian waffles. The delectable smell of sweet batter, berries and sugar stirred some of the household occupants awake. Van and Mitchell were first, greeting Spirit before jumping in to help by taking out the trash. Kason joins them, grabbing a mop to cleaning up someone's paint mess.

Kason: Those smells amazing.

Spirit: It's an old family recipe. I used to make them on snow days when Mercury and Beckett were young. Would get them right out of bed, and at the table. Come to think of it, it worked pretty well on Jorden too.

Spirit added the final touches to breakfast before calling the guys to come and eat.

The smell of breakfast too much to deny, M and Aphrodite join the now empty table.

Aphrodite: Good morning mom, morning Nana.

M: Morning mom, Morning sweetie. Is that grannies waffle recipe?

Spirit: The one and only. Come have a seat.

M and Dite dive into their stacks of waffles. M closes her eyes for a moment, remembering mornings with her own grandmother in the kitchen.

M: It's good to have you around mom.

Her voice cracks with emotion.

Spirit: None of that. Finish your breakfast. I want to get the kids dressed and take them to the Farmers Market in town today.

Between a mouth full of waffle M agrees.

M: Sounds like a fun idea doesn't it. Maybe you guys can stop and pick up new backpacks for the kids they start school Monday. With all the parties it kind of fell to the back of my mind.

Spirit: Absolutely! I loved school shopping with you and Beckett.

Aphrodite isn't as quick to jump on the idea.

Aphrodite: But mom, this weekend is the "Giddy up" horse show. I was hoping you would take me.

M: Sweetie we would have needed tickets for that weeks ago. I'm sorry. How about this, next weekend you and I will take a ride to Chestnut Ridge and we'll go horseback riding just you and me. How's that sound?

Aphrodite: Promise?!

M: Promise.

That earned her a smile and a hug.

Aphrodite: Your the best, mom. Nana, thanks for breakfast.

After polishing off the last of her waffles, M wakes Zohreh and brings him down for breakfast. Kason is at her heels.

Kason: Good morning handsome guy. Good morning beautiful.

He pulls her against him in a kiss too hot for a room full of children. They'd been so busy lately it felt like they'd hardly had time to enjoy each other romantically.

M: Mmm, that's the kind of kiss that makes you want to stay in bed.

Kason: I'd like to have you in bed but I've got a meeting this afternoon that I can't miss.

M: On a Saturday?

Kason: I used PTO for both birthday parties, I figured it’s the least I can do for Greg. On the way home I’ll pick you up a scone from the Pumpkin Patch Cafe.

M: Throw in a cinnamon bun and you’re free.

Kason: You drive a hard bargain but I think I can make room for a cinnamon bun and a Pumpkin Spice Latte.

He kisses her again.

M: You spoil me.

Kason: I intend to collect on this sweet deal of yours when I get back.

He whispers close to her ear.

Kason: I intend to have you in our bed all night.

She flushes suddenly in a flirty mood. Her face warms and she looks around to see the room has gotten even more crowded with Ishtar and Venus finally joining everyone downstairs.

Venus: Can I have an extra waffle Nana?

Spirit: Then your brother would have less.

Ishtar: That’s okay Nana, she can have it.

Venus: YES!

Spirit: Sweet Ishtar. That’s a good boy.

Aphrodite: Geez Venus, do you have to be so loud?

Venus: YES! YES! I LOVE WAFFLES!

M smiles at the chaos. Kason grabs a berry from Venus plate

Venus: DAD! Hey, that was my blueberry!

Kason: You got your brother’s waffle you can spare a berry kiddo.

Aphrodite stands off to the side looking slightly bored with the rowdy exchange.

Aphrodite: I'm going to get ready for the market. Can you guys hurry up please.

The rowdy group hurries to finish breakfast and get dressed for the day.

After Kason leaves for his meeting and Spirit and the kids head to the Farmers Market Mercury goes into her office, turns on the computer and opens up the draft for her book.

PREV

NEXT

@kiarasims4mods Travel to Menu

@littlbowbub grannies cookbook

@srslysims Complete cooking overhaul (Juice maker)

[pangzi]

Soulmate AU for ChainPun where you get the first words your soulmate said to you written on your skin at a certain age but ChainPun have known each other for so long by then that they don't even remember their first words to each other. Extra funny if it was something very memorable or some kind of inside joke between them that they sometimes still reference but for some reason they just don't connect the dots.

[quiet-desperationn]

say more about the bisexual rog hill you're dying on

oh it is mostly wishfull thinking and complete delusion.

the quote i was refering to was from this. Like a complete brain rot I am, I always clinged to the fact that he said sex and not just women.

and i always kind of saw his relationship with syd as him having a bit of the bisexual conundrum of "do i want to be them or do i want them?"

and, of course, the most important evidence of all: he just gives me vibes

this is a bi couple if i ever saw one