#even ignoring The Ending And What That Implies

[linklethehistorian]

Hi — OP here. I wanted to highlight some of the tags that I thought were worth showing from y’all insightful folks (especially those in other countries) who have been reblogging:

Also, since I’m getting a few people reblogging and/or commenting like I’m fearmongering and saying the situation is already doomed:

This was NOT my intent. I am well aware of everything that’s required for this to get passed. I’m well aware it’s a slim shot of it happening. This does not make it a non-threat. Listen to the voices around you — even those who do not live in this country. Listen to them, and take heed of their warnings. They know this situation by heart, from experience. They’ve seen it all before.

Listen to the people who know their history, who know history in general of situations that were similar. They speak the truth.

Me telling you that this will not be the end was not fearmongering and it was not an attempt to be demoralizing and it was not treating the situation like, or implying it was, an inescapable Armageddon. I know it sounds terrifying, but that’s because it is. And people need to see that. They need to think about it. They need to know what is at stake in the event this passes, however unlikely those odds may or may not be.

It was a warning. A call to action. A “unless we both as a country and as individuals act to stop it here and now, this will happen.”

The reason why I did not bring up the odds is largely because I was in a hurry to get this out, because I wanted to alert people as soon as I could. Because this it’s important. As I have said previously, this post was made very early in to this becoming public knowledge. There weren’t many places talking about it yet and I wanted to do so before people started flooding in with the dangerous, downplaying “don’t worry, it’s a 0% chance” rhetoric that would convince people it wasn’t worth acting against and that they didn’t have to do anything, because they’d think they could trust it would all just be okay.

And you should never just trust that it will all be okay, if there’s something you can do to help ensure that. The odds of the situation are ultimately entirely irrelevant when it comes to the necessity to act. You should always treat situations like this like if you don’t act, no one will.

As I have said in another post, while it’s understandable people want to comfort themselves, there is no such thing as a 0% chance, and there is also no such thing as slim odds unless you act in every way you can to ensure the odds are, in fact, as slim as you believe and hope them to be, and spreading anything along those lines is to play an extremely dangerous game that only helps your enemy.

We are not omniscient. We cannot read the hearts and minds of each individual member of congress and head of state and know in an instant how they feel, nor can we see the future. Betting on odds to save your life and your fate and the lives and fates of everyone you know and love when you could be doing something to at least help those odds is a fool’s game.

Do your research. Know your odds, if it helps to comfort you. Check out the links the kind people in the reblogs and comments have sent or offered you and listen to those around you.

But don’t ever assume that you don’t have to act. Especially on important matters like this.

Yes, part of the reason this bill got passed may have been a distraction tactic to get you to look the other way from other things going on; HOWEVER, THIS DOES NOT MAKE IT ANY LESS DANGEROUS OR A NON-THREAT.

Multiple things can be a threat at once. Something can be both a distraction and a serious attempt to alter the course of the American future. You can care about multiple things at once. You don’t have to choose. But if you do choose only a few, certainly don’t choose to ignore the amendment that could permanently alter how America runs and allow this man — or people like him — to have a grip over this country for 12 years each, and pave the way for lifelong dictatorships.

Thanks for your time and all the reblogs that help made this post spread. My blog is not super popular, so I never could’ve dreamed this would fly away like it has, but I’m so happy that it was something important like this that took off.

I love you all. We’re in this together. Protect your country in any way you can. Be safe. There is hope, but it’s hope we need to help carve out by our own hands. Not hope we put blindly into the hands of others.

Source

Transcript:

“BREAKING: A constitutional amendment has been filed allowing President Trump to seek a 3rd term in office.

"No person shall be elected to the office of the President more than three times, nor be elected to any additional term after being elected to two consecutive terms, and no person who has held the office of President, or acted as President, for more than two years of a term to which some other person was elected President shall be elected to the office of the President more than twice."

It was filed by Congressman Andy Ogles (R-TN).

Don’t let this slip by unnoticed. This is not just “one extra term”, it’s a warning shot. It’s a red flag. It’s an omen.

They are slowly turning up the heat in the pan. Do not be the frog who sits denying it’s getting hotter.

One extra term will become two, two will become three, and three will eventually give way to lifelong reign of each president.

Fight. Fight for God’s sake.

Contact your local representative of congress. Convince them we do not want this.

We are going to end up in a dictatorship.

@ikiyou

Please help spread this. I don’t usually get political and I don’t usually ask for assistance but this is important and you have more reach.

[darinawrites]

~embedded in your warmth (pt1?)

Cho hyun-ju x reader

Summary: accepting your death as you stood still on the circle platform, an iron grip on your arm had a different fate set out for you

Content: fluff to satiate the fluff lovers (we don't get fed enough), timid reader, soft hyun-ju, reader is implied to be fem, but can still be read as gn, typical squid game violence

A/n: this is my first post, crazy. But there's sadly not enough fluff hyun-ju on here. Im still unsure if I'll do a pt.2, we'll see. Also, my writing style is suited much more for longer stories. I tried to make it shorter, but it felt a bit rushed, tips would be appreciated! <3

Word count: 1.6k

___________________________________________

The childish song ringing in your ear, and the smell of blood filling your nose made your head spin as you spun around a type of carousel. It was excruciating to see the familiar fluid splattered everywhere, all reminders of the lost memories of those who once were beside you.

You never expected one of your childhood games to be so gorey, yet here you are, stifling the urge to vomit at the scene, gripping the arms of the only player you acquainted yourself with.

With a quiet and reserved personality, you unfortunately couldn't make yourself join a group, neither did you want to. Though, you've come to despise your reticent behavior as this game was just about that, pathetically clinging to a player you've spoken a few words with was your last option to survive this.

Shaky hands clutched the unknown players arm as the song suddenly stopped echoing in your ears, a woman's voice calling out:

4-

And the frantic search began again as the spinning platform came to a halt. Lights flickering, people screaming and running, all in a few seconds. You quickly grounded yourself against the arm, legs running before your mind can catch up to its own ideas as you both searched for more people. Panting, sweat dripping down your forehead as you desperately searched for someone, anything.

Your mind was hazy as the player blurted to split up to find a group, not comprehending what he said before letting go of your arm and bolting away. The gesture almost made you lose your balance before you started frantically searching too, life on the line.

Running on pure adrenaline, you saw a group of three in the distance. The timer was nearing its end as you ran with the random group you found in an empty room. Pushing yourself behind the door as it made a soft 'click' sound.

Collapsing against the cold wall, your pants mixing in with the rest of the group, coming to the realization on how close you all were at the hands of death, barely managing to escape from its grip.

As gunshots joined with the eery screams of the players, what could've been your blood curling scream, you let out a shaky breath, body naturally flinching. Closing your eyes as the sounds rang trough your skull. You didn't want to see it, you'll ignore it for as long as possible, focusing your sight at the floor, your shoes or the other players.

If you can't see it, then it didn't happen, right?

But the dreaded part of it all was the silence that followed after, as if the lost souls are wondering the little carousel. It was worse than any other scream you've heard, and that made you even more uneasy. Showing more unwanted vulnerability.

The small room fades around you, the talking of the players blurring into the background as tears threatened to spill out of your eyes, their judging eyes following your actions, yet you couldn't bring yourself to care, small snivels falling out of your mouth. The last bit of composure shattering inside you as the door unlocks. You had no one.

Deemed expendable, the players left you, all alone. Anxiety creeping back up again as you slowly made your way back, taking note of the fresh blood splattering even more of the ground. That damm song starting to play again, giving you chills. The platform, now covered with less people, spinning again. You truly thought this was it.

The moment you stepped in this room, you knew your fate was sealed. It was much too hard of a task to find a group with your timid personality. And in 30 seconds too? You just accepted it.

Thoughts whirled inside your head, trying to decipher where it all went wrong. How did it come to this?

Hazy eyes looked down at the small blue patch attached to your green tracksuit. Gaze focusing on the white 'O' sewed into it.

Were you this desperate?

You couldn't bring yourself to react as the platform beneath you stopped your weight. The voice that you've grew to hate calling out again.

-2

This time, you didn't react, no arm to cling to, no reason to run and change your fate. You were paralyzed from fear as the chaos simply surrounded you. You just couldn't move, you couldn't. Timer ticking above you, counting down the time before you fall into the arms of death.

You could sense the franticness of the players surrounding you, loud screams right beside your ear as they started pushing other players around. Falling victim to their movement as you felt your body lose balance, eyes blurring.

Before your body could fall against the red painted floor, a strong grip clutched your arms and pulled you towards them. Your eyes still unfocused, not being able to analyze your surroundings.

It all happened so fast. From being still as a statue to suddenly sprinting again, legs struggling to keep up with the pace set by the other pair of legs.

You tried to keep your head out of the gutter, gaze falling on the person who saved you.

Amidst the screams, you could still see short black hair and a tall frame and-

Oh. Her.

You finally recognized the arms that pulled you, being the woman you've seen a couple of times. Her bed right underneath yours. You saw her heroic acts in previous games. From saving player 456 to slapping some sense in that crazy lady. It seemed like she was just a kind person in nature, saving everyone she could. That made you trust her lead.

You had so many thankful thoughts clouding your mind as she softly pushed you in an empty room, making sure not to hurt you. Her back falling onto the door, only relaxing as it finally closed.

It wasn't long before the gravity of the situation came back again, gunshots ringing out again, flinching once more as your body suddenly felt fatigued. Your head was still spinning, matching the pain the rest of your body felt.

Sitting down to rest your weak body, you could feel her soft gaze looking at you, scanning you as she saw how weakened and shaken up you were.

"It'll be okay." her voice said. Seeing you tremble again as the gunshots continued. Closing the small distance the room offered between you two as she crouched down to where your head laid against the wall.

"You've come so far, you can't just give it all up by just standing there." her tone was one you weren't familiar with in these games. It was gentle with an affirming undertone. Genuine worry evident in it.

She moved her hands, hesitantly, before placing them on your cheek. You couldn't tell before when she gripped your arm how soft her hand actually was. Swiping her thumb at your cheek, picking up a small tear that slipped out.

Comforting, warm, intimate. Cheeks warming up at the gesture, sniffles fading away. Her gesture to mollify your tense body working. Gunshots still echoing in the background, a reminder of what this situation really was.

"I..I just can't anymore. I just want to go home." you said under your breath, such a small voice that it was barely heard, her comfort drugging you to let your frail emotions talk for you.

Her eyes were a big pool of emotions swirling around, her lips slightly curling downwards. Taking her hands off your cheek, an eery silence now creeping in as the screams and gunshots seemingly stopped.

"I know it's scary being here, but home can only be reached if you don't give up. Don't let these games drain you, don't make them win control over your body."

Shaking your head, you sighed. "I don't have the strength to not give up...I'm not strong like you." you admitted, letting the vulnerable words flow out. Thoughts intruding your brain that she'll discard you after this. Your timidness only hindering her.

"Then I'll be your strength. I can help you if you let me." Her words were so peculiar to you, something so unexpected. You noticed her features getting softer, her hands now rubbing the fabric on your shoulder.

Shaky breaths came out of you, not trusting your voice with the task of agreeing, you let your head make a small nod. Anxiety was still embedded in you, being something you've struggled with in every game, but her words alone made it smaller. It was evidently still there, but it shrank, even just a diminutive amount. You'll try, it's a promise. Letting your gaze dwell on her impeccable features, as she stood up and held out her hand. It made the edges of your lips go upwards, a feeling you've missed.

"What's your name?" you asked as your feet were pulled up, a slight tremble still there.

"Cho hyun-ju."

"Cho hyun-ju..." you repeated, testing the sound of it. It was weird to finally say someones name, with everyone being hidden behind numbers. You never managed to familiarize yourself with anyone to have the trust of their name. It felt...nice.

"And yours?" she asked, never letting you leave her eyesight.

You said your name, your voice now having a slight tremble. Though the uneasiness vanished just as fast it came as her lips had the gentlest smile. Her hands still on yours when she lifted you, now slightly squeezing yours. It made you have a faint smile, even as the door finally unlocked. Knowing what you'll see as you walk out, you'd have a warm body beside you to help you.

With her, maybe you will make it trough.

___________________________________________

[pricegouge]

missionary

nik x f!reader

cw: dubcon/noncon implied, but nothing happens here. religious talk from someone who doesn't know dick about it but that's okay cause the characters here don't either. abrupt ending. MDNI

sunlight filters through your curtains as you wake, a diffused sort of warmth that catches on dust motes and cat hair, paints them cream colored and soft. you sigh and burrow deeper for a few more minutes, ignore your looming sunday chores in favor of sleeping in a bit longer. you can't remember the last time the sun had beat you out the gate, the winter seeming to stretch past into your memory as far back as your childhood.

perhaps that's a little dramatic, but it's been a minute, so you climb out of bed only long enough to draw the curtains and let the thin morning light stream through properly before flopping back onto the mattress, letting your dry, winter skin absorb as much needed vitamin d as you can get before your stomach starts complaining about needed sustenance - though with how late you'd managed to sleep in, you can't even blame it.

your head's a bit fuzzy as you make your way to the kitchen. with the latest cold snap on its way out, the sudden temperature change had left your sinuses reeling and you'd had to resort to a little cocktail of otc drugs just to have a chance at sleep the night before. small price to pay, considering the light drip of snow melt you can see falling from your vantage point at the window, eyes unfocused as you zone out, waiting for the coffee to finish percolating.

it takes a few sips of the strong brew to fully realize what that means, opening your door in near disbelief to find the storm door isn't glazed over in ice, no steam spilling through the frame as your house attempts to heat the whole universe. it's still chilly, for sure, but it's not enough to deter you, leaving the door open for a spot of fresh air as you get to work fixing yourself breakfast, singing to yourself cheerily as you move about, your mood brighter than it's been in months at the barest sliver of sunshine. it's nice enough out you don't even bother to put a pair of pants on, the slight sting of early spring air so unseasonable and unexpected that you can't but relish it.

cooking is a messy affair. carefree. you go all out, pancake batter dusting the counter and your legs alike, broad strokes painted with messy fingers as you wait for your bacon to fry. you're distracted as you cut up an orange, knife slipping dangerously close past your fingertips because you can't help wriggling to the catchy song you've got stuck in your head.

once, twice -

"shit," you hiss, turning to run the cut under some cold water before you even fully inspect it.

you're prodding at the seams of your skin when you hear him, voice a low lilt sounding from your left which chills you more than the mid-winter air stirring around your bare thighs, more than the frigid font you've got your hand stuck under. your eyes find him immediately, watching you from the other side of the screen door with a hungry look about him, like he can't discern between you and the veritable buffet being plated behind you.

"you alright there?" he asks, accented and deep. he's not looking at the hand you hold over the sink, thin blood seeping down into the webbing of your fingers. his eyes trail down over your hip instead, lingering on your belly where the counter cuts into you, protecting your lower half from his field of view.

"can i help you?" you snap, unsettled by the sudden presence of a strange man on your porch and by the feeling his gaze incites, spiders crawling all over you.

he doesn't even bother to look chastised, a slick grin spreading across his broad face as he sniffs pointedly, lip curling. he's hunched over a bit to fit in your frame, too tall to be seen otherwise. "yeah, actually." with an elbow braced above his head, he flicks a pamphlet against your storm window to draw your attention. blue and green, calming colors for a calming message, no doubt. he wouldn't be the first missionary to grace your doorway, but he would be the most implacable, with his leather jacket and thick gold chain. you're no theologist, but you doubt the latter day saints would approve of this level of materialism. "wanna talk about god, but uh - that cut seems more important at the moment." he nods at your hand.

"right," you grumble, attention returning to the steady trickle of blood from your knuckle. it doesn't seem too bad, would just need a good amount of pressure to stem it and a few days spent wrapped up. "well, i'm fine - on both accounts, thanks."

"sure you are," he drawls, smile almost as greasy as his hair.

"i meant… i'm okay. i don't need -."

"you sure? i could help -."

"very sure," you snap, ripping off a square of paper towel from the dispenser next to the sink and twisting it into a ribbon which you wrap tightly around your finger. "see? got it covered, thanks. have a good one," you harp, stepping closer to shut the door in his face.

a mistake. one step, two. your toes feel the draft from the door first before it inches up your legs like creeping fingers and you remember your outfit just in time to see his eyes already darting down, expectant as you round the corner of your counter.

how long had he been watching you?

stepping back behind your cover, you try to make your voice as assertive as possible, know you've failed miserably when it comes out a shaky whisper. "i would like you to leave, please."

the man's eyes track back up to yours even as his elbow falls from where it's braced overhead, his callused palm scratching over your door frame as he trails it lower, lower. hardware of the handle jangling under the weight when he drops his palm heavily over it. "you won't let your lord and savior into your life?"

he doesn't wait for an answer, the door squealing on its hinges as he pulls it open. it's not quite necessary for him to duck through the frame, but only just - taller than you by nearly a full foot and broadly built. you back away from him on instinct and curse yourself when you realize this brings you further away from the knife block. the pamphlet skitters across the counter closest to him, a careless toss which you can't help but track, eyes catching on the smudge of red at the bottom corner. it's only then that you realize he isn't carrying any sort of bag, no stockpile on his person to dispense the good word to all his neighbors. you're also fairly certain missionaries have something against working on sundays.

you play along with the ruse anyway, fawning in your fright. "please, sir, i -. i'd love to hear more about… about -."

he cuts you off with no more than a look, eyebrow arching nearly as high as his widow's peak as he tilts his head condescendingly, his boots leaving a messy trail behind him as he stalks closer. "yeah? you need jesus, milaya? need to atone?"

"i -!" you don't make it any further before he's gripping your hip, spinning you until you fold over your counter, the hard press of his fly biting against your nearly bare cunt.

"that's okay, samka, the lord will forgive you for being such a little slut, prancing around in here for all to see in these tiny fucking panties." he snaps the gusset against you to prove his point, hairy knuckle brushing against your vulva before disappearing again. his full weight crowds into you, unbearable as it is inescapable. you can feel his breath ghosting down your neck, the scratch of stubble behind your ear. and yet - he doesn't kiss you, plants a broad hand next to yours instead, doesn't even flinch when bacon grease pops and splashes over the knuckles. "you know," he drawls, almost conversationally, as if the tableau before him has finally registered. "most people offer us food after inviting us in."

the distraction is such a welcome prospect, you don't even bother correcting him. "would you like some?" you ask, voice high and reedy with a manic sort of hope. "i have plenty, i could -."

you're cut off with a yelp when he crouches, enough so that he can span his palms under the crease of your ass and lift you the final few inches necessary to fully hinge your torso over the counter. his knees pop as he falls to them, the anticipated soft press of lips finally landing, directly on your core. he doesn't seem to mind the barier still in place, drags his hot tongue over the cotton to press it into your hole, gets a taste of you and hums, diffused as it is.

"yeah, i think i'll stay for a bite."

divider by @/cafekitsune

[a-bottle-of-tyelenol]

Seeing people on tiktok say that they can’t feel bad for Ctimene (ody’s sister and eury’s wife) because Eurylochus gave up on her, unlike Odysseus who never gave up on Penelope, genuinely infuriates me.

cw: discussions of suicide particularly towards the end

People act as if it’s Eurylochus’ fault for not being strong enough, as if Odysseus is the expectation and not the INSANE outlier, and say that Eurylochus borderline deserved to die because of it. Ignoring how gross that mindset is, especially given the implications that Eurylochus killing the cow was effectively an act of suicide, Odysseus should NOT be seen as the typical man because he isn’t.

He should have died. Multiple times, in fact. If we look at the Iliad, Odysseus would have died during the war if not for Athena’s intervention (she literally redirects a spear in his abdomen so it’s not lethal when he’s alone and completely surrounded by Trojans) and that was likely the case for the ENTIRE TEN YEARS that they fought, a luxury that no other man (barring Diomedes) would have been given. I bring this up because it sets a precedent on what to expect with Odysseus and how he is inherently treated differently than regular men.

I see Eurylochus defenders often bring up how magic and monsters are not the norm for regular men, and how Odysseus is only chill with it because he was chosen by Athena and related to Hermes, and they’re RIGHT. I literally cannot stress enough how insanely bonkers it is to treat Odysseus as the standard for men, or humans as a whole, when his experience is so different! Even just as a king, he was likely far more exposed to the gods and magic than your regular footman would be. Do you genuinely think Eurylochus would have ever spoken even a word to Achilles, a half-mortal? How likely was it that he knew Ares and Aphrodite were disguised and physically on the field (so close that Diomedes literally stabbed them), let alone got close enough to experience it himself? He likely knew that Zeus’ favor was in play, or that Apollo was blessing the other side, but how much was he really faced with? How much did Odysseus bother to tell him? Within the context of how I think EPIC’s version of the Iliad would go, how much of Eurylochus’ experience of the war just him handling the men and spreading the basic plans or news from Ody to their armies? How much did Odysseus filter that news? And even if he didn’t, how real was it to Eurylochus when, as a normal man, he likely never faced any of this himself?

It’s implied in EPIC (through the fact that it’s never brought up) that the crew, including Eurylochus, don’t even know about Athena! They don’t even know that she was helping! They don’t even know that she left!

How is Eurylochus ever comparable to Odysseus?

Back to the original topic, Odysseus’ will to go home was so inhuman that it nearly destroyed him! He spent the entire musical desperately grasping to the side that makes him human— the man that he was when he left home— and his choice to stop and delve into the other side of himself fundamentally changed him! He is not the man Penelope knew! And she will have to fall in love with him again!

Odysseus is consistently placed as something above man and below god, and it is consistently the driving force of every conflict he experiences. He is too mythical, which drives the wedge between him and his entirely human crew. He is too much of a man, which incites the tensions he has with every god he comes in contact with. The only reason Odysseus makes it home in EPIC is because he started leaning away from being a man! That is the entire point of Monster! That is the entire point of Scylla likening him to her! That is the entire point of Odysseus having a song named after him!

Eurylochus fundamentally does not have this option! He, quite literally, is just a man and that is the whole point of him taking the phrase from Odysseus! He isn’t attempting to justify himself, he’s admitting defeat because no regular man can go on like this! And he’s right!

You can make a thousand arguments over the conflict of free will and fate— particularly when it comes to the cows and the crew. In the Odyssey, it is very likely that, had the cows not been touched, it would have been possible for everyone to return home, but because they ignored the prophet’s warning, man’s free will overwrote that and their fate then became to die. This only works in the Odyssey, however, because Poseidon never actually tries to kill Odysseus (and by proxy, his crew) in that story! He can’t because it was always Odysseus’ fate to return home and the gods cannot ignore fate! In EPIC, however, that’s not the case and Poseidon likely would have just killed the crew in that final fight before they reached Ithaca anyways. Odysseus would have been the only survivor regardless!

And why is that? Because Odysseus is unlike the other men and comparing any of them to him is inherently setting them up for failure. Eurylochus did not have to love Ctimene any less than Odysseus loved Penelope in order to give up. He did not have to love her less than he loved the crew that he fought so hard to keep alive. He did not even have to be weaker in will than Odysseus. His fate was sealed as soon as things started going wrong because that is the fate of a mere man in a tragedy.

And even if that weren’t the case and Eurylochus could’ve gone home if he hadn’t killed that cow, he literally could not have know that. He was starving and wracked with thirteen years of trauma and three years of grief and starvation. It is insane to me to say that he couldn’t have loved Ctimene as much because he gave up after everything that he went through— because he thought (correctly) that he was going to die regardless. As someone who severely struggles with suicidal thoughts and has for my entire life, I do not love anyone any less just because I’m on the brink of giving up and the same is true for anyone that’s given up. They don’t love their family, their partners, their friends any less than the ones that fight to keep going. It is simply more complicated than that.

We don’t know much about her in canon, but I believe that Ctimene was loved and that she deserves to have the space of anger towards Odysseus and grief towards her lost husband, regardless of his decisions. Eurylochus can love her with his entire being and still end up where he did. Iirc, Odysseus in the Odyssey wished that he had been killed during the war because of the hardships he faced trying to get back home. That wish, regardless on if he acted on it, does not mean he loved Penelope any less.

I don’t like this notion people have that Eurylochus’ love is lesser than Odysseus’ just because Eurylochus gave up, and I don’t think it’s fair to compare them at all.

The message this gives off is really gross to me and is a bit too victim blamey and unempathetic for my tastes. Eurylochus made a hasty decision (a lot, if not most, people who commit suicide do it impulsively during a low point) and it was one that was fueled by extremely idiosyncratic circumstances. To me, everything Eurylochus did was understandable and even relatable to a degree, even up until the end.

Eurylochus is more like me, more like the average person, and Odysseus could ever be and I would never see his love as any less just because he failed to meet those impossible expectations.

[faewrenbird]

Homicipher Theory

Mr. Gap: The Homicidal Stalker

Disclaimer: This is all just my own interpretation and speculation. This is not negative or an attack on the character. I love Mr. Gap for being the worst of the worst. He’s sickening and awful and makes my skin crawl but in the best way that horror fiction can manage.

That said, Trigger Warnings: Mentions of stalking, sexual assault, serial killing, and cannibalism

Also

Homicipher spoilers/Mr Gap ending spoilers

-

If we go by my pre-established theory that the Ghost Apartments are a haunted grounds where an apartment building was built over the ruins of a hospital and collapsed subway, then we must assume that it’s haunted by ghosts from many different time periods. I believe that ghosts like Mr. Crawling and Mr. Hood are among the oldest, original haunts. Ghosts like Mr. Silvair and the nurse are from the hospital time period. Some ghosts are from the subway collapse. And some, like Mr. Gap and the Bride, are more recent, from when the apartment building still had occupants before its abandonment.

Mr. Gap is a rather unique entity among the ghosts. He’s the only one who can be anywhere at any time, can easily shift between the real world and the spirit realm, and clearly understands that he is a ghost.

But why? What makes him special?

I fear that the answer may be an unsavory one...

Mr. Gap

Mr. Gap is the second entity we can meet once we wake up with control of ourselves in the Ghost Apartments. Moments before we meet him, Mr. Hood gives us a warning. He tells us to be careful, there are dangerous entities out there.

Ignoring his advice entirely, we interact with Mr. Gap. And since we don’t know the language yet, we’re very likely to smile at him, resulting in our first swift death of the game via getting our heart ripped out and eaten.

The best thing we can do in early game is to ignore him. When he asks for a body part, step away. Later on, we can interact with him more directly, but initially, survival means not flashing him our pearly whites.

It becomes obvious early on why he’s called Mr. Gap. It’s because he…well, he only exists in gaps. He’s not a roaming ghost, he appears to be bound by the walls of this ever-changing building. But wherever there’s a hole in the wall, there’s Mr. Gap, peering out from between strands of greasy hair with one eye.

Every time we interact with him, he requests a body part from us. Heart, arm, leg, head…and he means this literally. If we consent (or even just smile at him) he’ll devour whatever body part he asked for.

But he can be helpful. While being chased by Mr. Hugeface, we can desperately ask him to get us out of there and force ourselves into a vent with him. He agrees to take us to safety, though not out of the kindness of his heart. He always wants something in return. Fortunately for us, he settles for just some of our hair this time.

There is never a time when he’s not trying to weasel something out of us. Even in his own endings, he bargains and pleads for our heart.

Now, you can easily interpret this to simply mean that he’s some sort of mischievous spirit. Evil in the eyes of humans, but more of a representation of chaotic neutral yokai. Certainly, some of the entities in the Ghost Apartments bear loose similarities to yokai. And the tropes of bargaining and trickery go hand in hand with these sorts of myths.

Personally, I lean away from that reading because the game actually doesn’t seem to use very much in the way of Japanese yokai myths. I dug deep trying to drawn comparisons for each of the ghosts, but they were loose at best. There seems much more evidence that the ghosts are, as the name implies, actual ghosts of humans who died here, rather than spiritual entities.

And if that’s the case, it begs the question: Who was Mr. Gap? How did he die? Why does he haunt rather than move on into the afterlife?

I feel that the imagery of his character makes the answers obvious. The game takes place in an apartment building where Mr. Gap lives in the walls. I think that’s a direct reference to his life before death.

I theorize that when the apartment was inhabited, Mr. Gap was a man who crept through crawlspaces and inside of walls in order to spy on women. I believe it can be interpreted that he also lured, abused, and killed those women.

“Mighty hefty accusations, Wren. Where’s your proof?”

No proof, only evidence from my own interpretation to support the claims! I'm sure there are plenty of other ways to interpret his character, this is just mine!

Exhibit A - Living in the walls. Again, this seems the most obvious and on-the-nose point. He quite literally lives in the walls and is bound to spaces with gaps. But he also has an apparently innate ability to navigate the ghost apartments no matter how much it shift and changes. This could allude to how he had the internal structure of the apartment building perfectly mapped when he was alive.

More importantly, he only makes himself seen through holes in the walls and gaps like vents. And we know he’s watching us at all times from those very gaps. This is a direct reference to him being a peeping Tom. Even the other ghosts seem to recognize this, as we can get a humorous scene of Mr. Silvair taping up a hole in the wall so that Mr. Gap can’t look inside.

Exhibit B - Self Awareness. This is the most fascinating aspect of Mr. Gap, in my opinion. Most of the ghosts we meet seem fragmented or confused. If they know what they are, or were, they don’t show it. They seem to understand that there’s an “other” place, but not really the distinction between life and death.

Mr. Gap, however, outright knows and brags about being a ghost. At one point, he shows us old newspaper clippings with a photo of three women with censored faces standing in front of the apartment building, with Mr. Gap in a window behind them.

He can, and does, travel between realms. I assume this is possible because he’s bound to spaces within the apartment, but not specifically spaces in the spirit realm. The apartment is his cage, not the spirit realm itself. Because of this, he’s perfectly capable of peering out at modern day strangers walking by on the street and in the alleys. Also perfectly capable of haunting the old building and keeping its property value at a hearty zero.

But what does self awareness have to do with him being a criminal stalker and killer? Well, I think that he’s afforded these sort of rule-breaking abilities for one main reason, which brings me to…

Exhibit C - He’s a psychopath. No, I’m not using the term colloquially. I mean that truly, by definition, Mr. Gap is a psychopath. To be more accurate, by today’s definitions in the DSM-5, he would have Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD), characterized by a lack of empathy, disregard for others, and deceitfulness (*ASPD is more complex than this, please do not take this as a statement on the disorder which is characterized by much more than these three things).

If this seems like a stretch, I invite you to look at the three endings you can get at a particular point in the game, all involving Mr. Gap.

In this unfortunate decision path, we manage to escape the Ghost Apartments. However, by this points we’re too far gone to be able to live among normal society. Not only has our memory been warped by the ghost realm, but our body is unrecognizable and grotesquely inhuman. We know this based on the reaction of the first person we ask for directions. He panics at the sight of us and flees. We are, for all intents and purposes, the rotting Michael Afton parading about as a normal human while looking like a decaying zombie.

At this point there’s only one person left who can help us. Mr. Gap. Since he’s the only one who can cross between worlds. But even at our darkest and most vulnerable moment, is he going to help out of the kindness of his heart? No, of course not! In fact, he takes it as the perfect opportunity to ask for our heart again, the same way he did the very first time we spoke to him.

We have three options. 1, give him our heart. As expected, the ending is the same as the beginning. He kills us and eats our heart. 2, refuse to give him our heart. He’s disappointed, but leaves us alone. We wander down the alley but don’t get far before we pass out. And then…Mr. Gap takes our unconscious body and, wouldn’t you know it, eats us anyway.

In the third option, we give him someone else’s heart. We kill a random person and deliver their heart to Mr. Gap instead. He’s not exactly pleased but he did make a deal to bring us back, so he reluctantly drags us back into the apartment.

Sadly, while Mr. Gap is able to cross realms at will, he can’t bring us across. Instead, it seems he just brings us inside of the abandoned apartment. We don’t fully understand this though, which seems deceptive on his part. Sure, yes, he brought us back as promised. But not to where we wanted to be.

Now, it’s just us and Mr. Gap. Of course, he keeps begging for body parts. Except now, we have the chance to ask him why. The question…confuses him, even seems to irritate him. “Why?” What reason does there need to be besides that it’s fun?

Honestly, this interaction was bone-chilling to me. By no stretch of the imagination does Mr. Gap view us as anything more than a shiny toy (that was how I felt about it here at least).

I believe it’s this callousness that acts as his superpower. Unlike the other ghosts, he doesn’t have any emotional attachments preventing him from moving on to the afterlife. There’s no particularly strong thing keeping him here. He’s not repenting (Mr. Hood), he’s not in a cycle of suffering (Ms. Blue-Clad/Mr. Chopped), he’s not obsessively invested in his life’s purpose (Mr. Silvair). He’s just. Having fun.

I think this is a carry-over from when he was alive. He had no particular reason for stalking and killing beyond the fact that it was fun for him.

Because of this, he’s not trapped in the same way as the other ghosts. He’s actually quite content to cross between realms and peep at women who wander by. And if he’s real lucky, someone will get close enough to snatch.

Exhibit D - The Newspaper Clippings. What’s so special about them apart from the clear fact that he’s bragging about being a ghost? Well…I don’t think that’s all that he was bragging about. This old clipping includes a picture of three women with censored faces standing in front of the apartment. Victims, perhaps? It’s quite common for serial killers to keep trophies or memorabilia of their kills. Taking newspaper clippings reporting on the crime is actually a big one.

Exhibit E - Cannibalism. Now this, I believe, could be either literal or metaphorical, or a combination of both. When he was prowling and murdering women, did he actually eat them as well? Maybe. Or maybe the afterlife cannibalism is metaphorical, depicting him as a predator, with us as prey. The symbolism of flesh eating is violating, as well, and his biggest interest is in eating our heart. This could line up with a common delusion among stalkers, in which they believe the object of their delusions is in love with them.

Exhibit F - Sexual Assault. You may think this is a stretch and it’s bad enough that he could have been a serial killer and I’d agree with you. But I really think there’s enough here to at least suggest that he included sexual assault in his modus operandi. For one thing, he was a peeping tom, unquestionably. That’s the whole point of the holes and gaps that he peeks out of. This suggests sexual motivation for his actions. Then, there’s the possible symbolism of cannibalism meaning that he’s a predator. And, as also stated, when he brags about being spotted as a ghost, it’s on a newspaper clipping with only women, which lends credence to the idea that he stalked and spied on them specifically.

And lastly, the biggest evidence I have towards this point is in the Return Ending. At the very end, he makes his finally appearance under our sheets. This imagery feels intentional and deliberate. We lift the sheets and see him essentially between our legs. We dismiss him as being a prankster, and this ending concludes with him suddenly lunging from under the blankets with a wicked grin and hands outstretched to presumably harm us.

And that’s it. Fade to black.

To me, this reads obviously as a reference to assault. The stalker is in our bed, between our legs, and leaps to violently harm us.

We know that Mr. Gap doesn’t have a body, only arms and a face. So, this action appears to be simply a reflection of the actions he performed when he was alive. OR there’s also the possibility that he lied to us, and he does, in fact, have a body. I wouldn’t put it past him.

-

So, is it possible that Mr. Gap really is a reflection of some of the worst parts of humanity? Maybe. Or maybe he does love us, or he is just a mischievous yokai. I like the thought that he's a monster who gets away with it because everyone views him as an irritation rather than a real threat. Even if I'm way off base, he's still a totally fascinating character due to his uniqueness among the other present entities.

Honestly, serial killer or not, who would say no to a face like this?

[weregonnaneedabiggerboat]

HIII i saw ur post about asking for requests for Ler!Jax and i have an idea!!

how about an extremely irritable and angry GN or F reader who has been silent for the whole day, not even reacting to Jax's pranks and stuff (basically going into full apathetic mode)

Jax is annoyed because the reader doesn't even look at him with rage, and soon realizes that the reason behind reader's behavior is that they are extremely close to abstract

So Jax has to do something to both annoy and save the reader from abstraction

i think we all know what that 'something' is

(feel free to ignore this request BTW💜)

Cheer Up, Doll~

Ler!Jax x Lee!You

CW: Angst, depression, implied suicidal ideation, apathy, implied swearing

Notes: Jax being soft for you, teasing, cheer up tickles, bits of fluff in between Jax acting stupid (affectionate), Reader is gender neutral as always

A/N: AAA ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS SUGGESTION!! I really enjoyed writing this little fic, cheer up tickles are my favorite thing in the world 💜 I made sure to include some fluff in the end between you & Jax because why not? Hope you enjoy!!

∘₊✧─────────✧₊∘

Sometimes it feels like when your feelings swing low, life swings lower.

And that's all that's been happening lately. You've had the rug pulled from under your feet in the past, but never in such devastating ways before. Coping with being stuck here has made you irritable; lashing out, shooting glares that could kill.

But now, you didn't even feel angry anymore. Lashing out has become exhausting. You just felt… Hollow. Not even Jax’s dumb pranks, or Ragatha’s sweet talking, or Pomni's asking if you're okay could even pull your lips from their sagging state.

The others, of course, understood that boundary. You were annoyed, apathetic, bothering you in this state could make you abstract for @#$&’s sake! However, part of you felt like being ignored and avoided by them was almost worse.

….Almost. Because not all of them gave you the space they thought you needed.

“Hey there, pipsqueak~” Jax teased, resting his elbow on your head, while you sat down at the dining table. You've been staring at your food for around 20 minutes now, and by then everyone had finished and left to go hang out on the couches.

“The food isn't going to finish itself, y'know. You have to actually eat it.”

Jax seemed to laugh to himself at his own joke, then noticed that you didn't even flinch. He frowned, staring between you and the plate of cold food.

You just stared at the peas and mashed potatoes, if that was even what they were other than a block of code. What was the point, anyway? Of doing anything? You can't die, you can't rest, every day was the same at this point. All you could feel was pain, and the existential dread weighing over any and all positive feelings you could have.

You didn't say anything in response to Jax, and just blinked slowly, overwhelmed with fatigue and apathy.

However, Jax didn't seem to appreciate being ignored. He frowned, gently tapping your cheek with the back of his hand. “Hey, Pips, over here! It's your best friend Jax!"

Well, that didn't work either.

He frowned, his eyes narrowing with irritation. What the @#$& was up with you? You HATED when he came around to bother you, especially when he used your head as an armrest! Usually you at least smacked his hand away or tried to shove him, or at leastshot him an annoyed glare.

But this time... Nothing.

“Go away, Jax,” you finally murmured, sighing and pulling yourself off the table. You weren't hungry, anyway. Not that it was even possible to be hungry in the circus, so you didn't see a point in indulging in these stupid routines at all. “I'm not in the mood.”

You just made a dejected walk to the hallway of bedrooms, feeling the world begin to warp around you. Your connection to this world felt like a frayed wire, the walls becoming a blur, sight being hard to reach. Where are you going? Were you even walking at all?

Jax stared with tightened pupils as you made your way back to where he assumed was your bedroom. Wow…

Nothing... he thought. Nothing at all. Like he wasn't even there.

“Jax leave them be,” Ragatha’s voice called to him from a few feet away, snapping Jax out of his concerned thoughts.

“What?”

Jax was taken straight out of his trance, and he turned to look at the ragdoll.

Ragatha had a stern look on her face, like she knew he was going to do something stupid and push you over the edge. And that was the last thing she needed right now. “They're going through a rough time and surely don't need you to bother them.”

Jax stared at her for a couple seconds, then he rolled his eyes. His persona immediately flew back up to his face, and he flashed her a grin, squinting his eyes mischievously.

“Nah~ They're fine, Rags, you worry your dolly little head way too much,” he chuckled, putting his hand on his hip and leaning his weight on one leg. He made a casual gesture towards you. “In fact, I've never seen them this…”

Jax's words trailed off when he realized you weren't within his sight range anymore, and his grin faltered. A sickening feeling in his stomach began to twist and turn when he realized he's seen this one too many times before. The apathetic nature of someone who was about to...

Look. There's people he didn't care about. He couldn't save, so they would abstract and leave him. Not that he enjoyed this idea, but it was easy to move on after a while. None of them mattered that much to make him fall into the same patterm.

But… No. Not you. Not you. He didn't want the next one to be you of all people.

Ragatha was about to go up and grab him to drag him away from whatever he was thinking of doing, before she heard her name being called by Pomni, saying it was “urgent” or whatever. She looked behind her, shouting a response that said she was coming, then she looked back at Jax.

“You better leave them alone," she said with a serious tone. "If you make them abstract, Jax, I swear,” she growled. “I will never forgive you.”

Ragatha turned to leave and check on Pomni and the others.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, toots.”

Jax didn't even hear what she said and just waited for her to get off his back already. He rolled his eyes, and walked after you in your direction.

Meanwhile, you were sitting on the floor, back against the bed, with a look so glazed over that it was easier to assume you were blind. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you glanced up at the clock hanging on your wall. It's been 20 minutes, and nobody has even bothered to even show up and check on you.

Tears spilled from your eyes as the realization fell upon you like a weighted blanket. Your bedroom was dark, silent, empty. You felt so… Alone. So—

“Hey there, Pips! What's gotten you all wadded up like that~?”

God @#$&ing dammit. Not him again.

“Leave me alone,” you muttered with a tiny whimper, this time turning your head to the side so you weren't looking at him. And so he wouldn't see the pathetic tears in your eyes.

Jax just grinned and chuckled, leaning his arm on the doorframe and the other hand on his hip. “Awwe don't be like that, Squeakers,” he teased with that annoying tone of his, and used a finger to flick the light switch on. You flinched with the sudden brightness of your bedroom, pressing your eyes closed for a moment and wiping away your tears.

He walked inside and kicked the door shut behind him, then sat his lanky ass right next to yours, stretching out like this was just some casual day at the beach.

You watched as he rested one leg over the other and placed his arms behind his back. This was so… Weird. Why was he being so clingy?

You shifted away a little, now feeling uncomfortable with the distance. You didn't even notice how his odd behaviour managed to snap you out of whatever you were so upset about.

Jax didn't move, his eyes closed as he relaxed with that dumb grin on his face. What was he planning? Did he hide a bug in your room or something and was waiting for you to notice?

“Boy, this isn't very comfy, is it?” he finally asked, turning to look at you with his signature lidded eyes. “You just sit on the cold hard floor like that? Don't worry, I can help you get into the bed if it's too high up for you to reach~”

You just returned his expression with a look of disgust, hugging your knees closer to yourself and almost trying to slowly turn your back to him.

“Yeah, whatever. I didn't feel like getting into my bed,” you retorted with a frown, unappreciative of the implication he was making.

You rolled your eyes when he just chuckled in response. “Hurr hurr so funny, I'm short! Such an original and totally accurate joke!” you mocked his voice, which only made him laugh even more.

Jax leaned back forwards to rest his arms on his leg, still looking at you. “You’re so easy to rile up, doll~”

You decided not to answer this time, and just stared off into distant space. He just wanted attention from you, and you quickly found out your angry retorts and reactions were only fueling him.

“You're just going to sit there and ignore me, grumps?”

You huffed a response with your nose, pouting and refusing to look at him.

That is, until you felt a small tickle at your side, that made you jump and whip to look at him angrily.

Jax had his hands to himself, making a gesture with his gloves that mimed him checking his nails. He raised an eyebrow and looked at you, then shrugged and smirked.

“What?”

“...” You glared at him and shifted even further away, hugging your knees. “Nothing…”

Huffing quietly, you sat again, avoiding eye contact with him and hugging your knees a little tighter. This time, you felt a hand — his hand no doubt— gently pinch your ribs, and you whipped back at him again with wide angry eyes.

“JAX!" you snapped at him, growling irritably. " I KNOW it's you!!”

Of course, his reaction was just to laugh and throw his arms up defensively.

“Whahahat!” he snickered, giving you his best innocent look. “What are you talking about! I've just been sitting here with you!”

You scoffed, letting out an angry hmph! and turning away again. But this time, you kept your eyes staring at your side, waiting to see him try again. And sure enough, he did, and you grabbed his wrist before he could poke you.

“AHA! Gotcha!” you said victoriously, then realized you were grinning. Not wanting to give him any chance to celebrate, you pouted again and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I-It was you! I knew it!!”

Jax laughed at your clearly mixed reaction to his attempts to tickle you, unbothered by your grabbing of his wrist. “Whaat come on, mee~?” he giggled, using his free hand to flutter a finger under your arm. “I would never~”

You squeaked and giggled, writhing away from him. “Jahahax!!” you whined, letting go of his wrist to try and smack both his hands away.

“You keep scolding me when I'm not even doing anything!” Jax chuckled, now using both hands to tickle your ribs playfully. “I'm starting to think you're trying to accuse me of something, Dollface!”

“I AHAHAM YOU @#&$!!” you scolded him, then fell into a sea of giggles again.

“Oooh I see, you're just ticklish~” he laughed at how adorable your giggles were, especially since you were trying so hard to look stern and angry. “Why didn't you just say so? Tickle, tickle, tickle~”

You laughed even louder, now squirming on the floor underneath him and giggling your heart out, kicking your feet at his belly.

That seemed to tickle him a little, given by the soft gasp and chuckle he let out. He then gave you a menacing glare, using his legs to pin yours down and sitting on top of your waist.

“Oh you want it bad, bad, don't you,” Jax chuckled threateningly, cracking his knuckles before digging his fingers into your sides and belly. “Well, let's see how you like this! And this!!”

You shrieked with laughter as his fingers pinched your sides and poked in your belly, your arms not doing anything to defend you from the tickles. “JAHAHAX PLEHEASE NOHOHO!! I'M SORRYHYHY!!” you pleaded, pressing your eyes closed and feeling tears start to prick at them the more he made you laugh.

“You think one little sorry is going to help you escape~?” Jax said with a playfully stern tone, as if he was mad at you, but his soft laughter totally gave away how much he was enjoying this. “Sorry, toots, but I ain't letting you off that easy~! Tickle, tickle~”

“IHIHI DIDN'T EVEN DO ANYTHIHIHING!!” you screamed back at him, trying to sound angry but honestly, through the giggles and the almost affectionate tickling he was giving you, any attempt to look mad was thrown out the window.

“Didn't do anything, huh? Well, let's see,” he chuckled with a malicious grin, digging his fingers into your underarms and making you clamp your arms down on his hands. “You ignored me, didn't laugh at my jokes like you usually do,”

“THAHAHAT’S SOHO STUPIHIHID!!”

“Welp, there's another thing~” Jax teased, attacking your belly viciously in response to your unwise comment. “Calling me stupid? Right after trying to kick me in the stomach? Tch, I can't believe you sometimes~”

You blushed at how nonchalant and smooth the tone of his voice was, with how much he was teasing you you wish you could just explode at this point. Squealing through your giggles, you tried to plead with him.

“Okay OKAHAHAY— I'm sorryhyhy!!” you pleaded, trying your best to curl your body up.

“For what~?”

“FohohoHOHOR— AHAHA!! JAHAHAX YOU DUMB@#$ STOHOHOP!! LET ME SPEHEHEAK!!” you shrieked, unable to form coherent sentences through your uncontrollable laughter.

“Kinda rude, dollface… Now I don't wanna stop~” he teased. “You're just givin me more and more reasons to keep on tickling you~”

You definitely didn't want that, or maybe you did, but either way you still shook your head frantically at what he was saying. “No no nOHOHO!! I'm — EHEHEEEK!!”

His fingers went straight back into your underarms, and he really managed to wriggle his index fingers up there this time. “You trying to say something~? Come on, speak up, we don't have all day~”

Your feet were desperately trying to kick and squirm and get away from the overwhelming feeling at this point. You gasped for air, looking back up at him. “I'm sorryhyhy I'm sorry I swehehear!! Ehehe— I was juhust hahaving a bahahad dahahahay!! Ahahahaha!! I'm sorryhyhy fohor ignorihihing youhuhu!!”

Jax looked down at your genuine expression and, satisfied with the apology, pulled his fingers away from you. He let you catch your breath, snickering at how cute you looked all tired and beat like that.

“Apology accepted,” he simply said, chuckling as you shot him a frustrated glare. Though, deep inside it wasn't about the apology or your rude behaviour or your ignoring him. He didn't want to lose you, you were his best friend, and if not losing you to abstraction meant tickling you until you were begging in tears, then so be it.

“Youhu’re such a jeherk…” you softly giggled out, panting on the floor and zoning out at the wall. You could still feel the tingles from where his fingers were teasing you, and… Honestly? You felt more loved and appreciated now than you ever have by any of the others in the circus.

Who knew that the only one who can bring you some semblance of happiness was this purple idiot?

“You ready to go, Y/N?”

His voice spooked you out of your zoned out state, and your eyes widened in surprise. He had gotten off of you and was now standing, staring down at you with his hands in the pockets of his overalls. Jax almost never calls you by your actual name, so his tone now was… Suspiciously friendly.

“Um…Y-Yeah just…”

You didn't really want to explain that you wanted to spend a little more time with him before leaving your bedroom. But he seemed to catch your drift anyway, offering a hand to help you stand up, then sitting on your bed and getting into a relaxed pose again.

You hesitantly sat down next to him, and smiled softly up at him, which he returned. Your stomach fluttered, and you decided to close your eyes and just soak in the peaceful silence between the two of you.

…Maybe being here wasn't so bad, after all.

[crowsofdarkness]

Soldat: Chapter Seven

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Female Agent! Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: Agent Y/N has worked alongside Steve Rogers at SHIELD for some time all while keeping a dark secret from everyone. Until one day that darkness faces her head on and she's forced to make a choice. Continue fighting along side Captain America? Or find her home once again with Soldat?

Authors Note: This was originally published on my old blog as a trilogy so I will be in the slow process of adding it to this blog. This is the first of the trilogy and will take place during The Winter Soldier. If anyone is interested in being tagged, let me know!

Very slight implied smut in this chapter, very tame. Also, there are three chapters left! Once Soldat is complete, I will begin posting the next in the series.

Tags: @globetrotter28 @sakuracyberhex @chinggay85-blog @bookofriverr @misatxox @that-blonde-girl

Soldat Masterlist

Day One 

Eyes fluttered open softly, allowing the light to blind me for a few seconds as I stared up at the crackling ceiling. I followed the lines, hoping that it would lead me to an idea where I was but came up empty as I realized I was in a room with no windows, one door, and the lone cot I was currently laying on. My heart thumped in fear as I tried to remember how I ended up here. 

I was drinking in a bar in Siberia as I was going over my notes for the local terrorist group I was following. I was alone for most of the night until a strange man came up beside me, gun pressed to my side, muttering in my ear that I had to go with him or else.

The last thing I could remember was getting thrown into the back of a van and darkness. The watch on my wrist indicated that happened..

Sixteen hours ago?!

“What the fuck happened to me?” I groaned, clutching my forehead. 

The door clicked open, men dressed in European military uniforms catching my immediate attention. 

“Where am I?” I spoke in the native tongue. 

They ignored me, continuing on with their own conversation and paid no attention as they stood guard at the door, guns slightly drawn. 

Discreetly, I slid my hand down my calf trying to feel if the knife I stashed into my boot was still there. 

“You think we would leave you with a weapon?”

A small man entered the room now, glasses perched high on his nose. He gently removed his hat, handing it to one of the guards before sitting on a chair in front of my cot. 

“Who are you?” I questioned. 

He merely tsk’d before pulling a grey folder from his briefcase. “Y/N L/N. You’ve been an agent with the FBI for almost two years now and you’ve only been on one case. Why is that?” 

“Is that a file on me?” My eyes landed on the file.

“You were on New York SWAT for three years before this but had to leave for ‘different opinions’ pertaining to a rather personal case.” 

“That’s no one's business but my own,” I snapped. “You shouldn’t even have that information.” 

“I’m a very powerful man, Ms. L/N. I have many ways to get the information I want. Just like how you got info about me.” 

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” I squinted my eyes at him. 

“You’ve been looking for me for the last six months. I thought we could finally meet.” He gave me a small smile. 

“Wait,” my eyes widened. “You’re Dr. Zola? I thought you were dead. That’s why it’s been so hard to find you.” 

The older gentleman clicked his tongue against his teeth. “No, not Zola. But his apprentice. You can call me Dr. Berge” 

“Why did you kidnap me? To shut me up?” I crossed my arms over my chest, foot shaking with nerves. 

Dr. Berge handed one of the guards the folder before shaking his head. “Our last student didn’t make it. We needed someone new.” 

“Stu-student?” I stuttered. 

“Yes, for Soldat.” Bergenodded. 

“Soldat?” 

He answered my question with a wave; a new man entered the small room. My tired eyes raked in his appearance from head to toe. He was dressed in combat boots and black cargo pants. His broad chest was covered in a black vest, various pockets that held God only knew what, his long brown hair was falling into his eyes but did nothing to fix it. The only thing that held my gaze, however, was his left arm. It wasn’t like his right; this one was made entirely of metal. 

“Who’s this?” I questioned, voice shaking with fear. 

“Ah Soldat, meet your new student. Hopefully she’ll last longer than the last one.” Berge clapped his hands before leaving the room. 

Soldat remained in place, a few feet away from me, and he slowly nodded to the guards. 

“Leave us,” he demanded in Russian. 

Suddenly, it was just him and I, my fear being the only thing you could feel in the room by my heart beating faster and faster. 

“What am I your student for?” I mustered to ask. 

“To fight.”

Day 23 

“I need a minute,” I gasped for air as I tried to gain some space. 

“You don’t have a minute.” Soldat reminded me as he flipped me over his shoulder, my own falling hard to the mat below. 

It had been a hell of a couple of weeks. I had been captured by who I had come to find was the terrorist group I had been searching for; Hydra. 

Every morning and night, Soldat would come to my room and train me for hours, fighting non stop. I had yet to find out why I was being trained to fight. 

Soldat barely said a word to me during these training sessions. He was instructed to train me not to make small talk. I couldn’t get a read on him, what his story was or how he ended up here. 

“Mother fucker,” I cursed, clutching my shoulder. “I think it’s dislocated.” 

Soldat remained silent, roughly pulling me to my feet and snapped my arm back into place causing a scream to erupt from my throat. 

“That’s enough!” I screamed pushing my palms into his chest. “I’m done! No one has told me why I’m here, getting my ass kicked by a guy with a fucking metal arm!” 

A small smile pulled at his lips and all the anger from being held captive here built up causing me to bring my hand back, wiping that smile off his face with my fist. 

Regret filled me when I saw the quick flash of anger cloud his eyes but his deep laugh relaxed my shoulders a tad. 

“That’s more like it.” He muttered while rubbing his jaw. 

“I already know how to fight. I don’t need someone to teach me,” I admitted, fists clenched at my sides. 

Soldat nodded. “Then next time should be easy for you.” 

Day 37

The chill in the air caused me to wrap the blanket closer to me as I dug myself deeper into the bed that I started calling my own. I was unsure of the time but the tiredness in my bones made me believe it was time to let sleep succumb to me. 

A soft sigh left my lips as my mind wandered yet again to the man that had been clouding it the past few weeks. 

It had been almost two weeks since my last training session with Soldat. He stopped coming by in the mornings and nights which made me wonder if our sessions were over and what that meant for me. 

That thought was short-lived when Berge brought in someone else to train me. He didn’t want me to forget anything while Soldat was away. 

Rumor had it, Hydra sent him away from some mission. 

Besides the one old guard that would bring my food twice a day, Soldat was the only constant thing in this prison that had become my home. 

Heavy eyes fluttered shut, breaths becoming deeper and heavier and the long awaited sleep was so close. But the door to my room slamming open caused my eyes to snap open and I pushed myself to my knees. I watched as Soldat entered, anger clear on his face. 

“Where have you-.” 

The air to my lungs was constricted as Soldat wrapped his metal fingers around my throat, slamming me deeper into the cot. 

I trashed against his body, nails digging into the skin of his flesh arm, not bothering him an inch. I racked my brain for all the training he had taught me to try and get out of this. I attempted to wrap my legs around his waist to flip him but he was two seconds ahead of me, his flesh hand pining my hips down onto the bed. 

My body began to sweat with the fear of what was about to come. 

I wrapped a hand around his metal wrist as I looked into his eyes, the light far gone from them. 

“Soldat,” I choked out. 

The air suddenly rushed back into my lungs causing me to cough uncontrollably as he finally let go, the bruises already starting to form I was sure. 

His hand and hips kept me locked into place on the bed and his other hand gripped my chin, forcing me to look in his eyes. 

“You only train with me. No one else can have you.” His voice demanded through gritted teeth. 

Once I could breathe again, I gave him a sorrowful nod. “I’m sorry.” 

We stayed in this position for a few more beats, his hips locking mine into place while his eyes bore into my own. His chest rose and fell with each breath, mimicking my own in the small tank top I wore; it was one of the few clothes that Hydra had lent me. 

Soldat’s eyes traveled over the swell of my breasts and I felt the heat spread down to my core as he slowly ran his tongue over his bottom lip. 

“Get some sleep. We’re starting early tomorrow,” he breathed before pushing himself off of me. 

The room had a sudden chill to it as soon as he left the room and after wrapping myself into a cocoon with my blanket, I found myself falling asleep wishing it was his arms

Day 56

Chains dragged behind me as I followed the path the two guards were leading me on. We turned a corner and continued down another long hallway. They had dragged me out of bed this morning, muttering something about getting some “fresh air”. 

I chuckled at their definition of fresh air; it was a small sunroom with a few potted plants and one large bench seat. Thankfully the bright sunlight beamed through the glass windows, spreading warmth into my skin. 

“Ten minutes,” one of the guards demanded while tossing me a book. 

They took their post on the outside of the door, backs turned to me, and I opted for not reading the book deciding I would rather stare out of the windows. This was the first time in almost two months that I had been granted access to the outside world. 

Sort of. 

The beautiful images of mountains scattered the skyline, the fresh snow blowing in the wind. I walked closer to the windows, peering down below and that was when I realized I was high up. 

Wherever I was being held captive was on top of a mountain. 

“Beautiful.” 

Jumping at the deep voice, I looked over my shoulder and a small smile came to my face. 

“Soldat, you’ve returned.” 

He nodded, tucking a strand of hair out of his face. “I returned last night.” 

“How was your mission?” 

His silence was enough of an answer I needed. 

“Have you been training?” He questioned, still keeping a safe distance between us. 

Immediately I shook my head, the chains rattling. “They won’t let me while you're away. You’re the only one I can train with.”

Soldat turned his head, eyes taking in the appearance of the chains around my wrists and ankles. A scowl appeared underneath the stubble covering his mouth and he beckoned me over with a finger. 

Swallowing thickly, I tried the best I could to walk over to him, feet coming to a halt in front of him. He gripped the chains with his metal fingers, breaking them off of me with ease. 

“You’re not a monster,” he muttered. 

I rubbed away the red marks on my wrists while giving him a smile of thanks. “What will happen to you once they find out?”

“You should get some rest, we have a big training session tomorrow.” Soldat spoke, ignoring my question. 

I wondered with fear what exactly they would do to him. Every time he would arrive back from a mission, his screams would echo through the base, keeping me awake at night. I yearned to be with him, comfort him. He was the only constant in my life now, I would do anything to be with him; to keep him from pain. 

“Will you sit with me?” I nodded to the bench. “We don’t need to talk, just your company is enough.” 

His body tensed, a bit hesitant, before he nodded and we both sat down with our knees a few spaces away from each other. I reached for the book and felt his gaze burn deep into the side of my head as I quietly read the pages, Russian almost becoming a second language to me. 

We sat in silence, Soldat’s eyes watching me as I carefully turned the pages of the book, enjoying the quiet company of the man who would scare others. 

“Soldat, do you know what this word is? I haven’t come across this one yet.” 

I pointed towards a word in the book that was giving me trouble and felt the heat radiate off of him as he leaned closer to me, his shoulder brushing against my own. 

“Dorogaya. It means my darling.” 

My core twitched at the Russian translation and I coughed, trying to mask my arousal. “Thank you.” 

“Dorogaya,” he repeated, this time more quietly to himself. 

Day 85

“Faster! Harder!”

I let the screams of slight encouragement fuel me as I landed my fists into Soldat’s bare stomach, the force behind my punches doing nothing to phase him. 

He reached for my neck but I swiftly ducked while spinning on my heels, tripping him in the process. Soldat landed hard on his back, the wind being knocked out of him, and I straddled his hips with my own, my hands pinning his own above his head. 

Our breaths matched in sync, eyes boring into each other, and the sight of the smirk on his face made my heart nearly burst out of its cage. 

“I win,” I breathed, my breath fanning over his bare chest. 

My fingers itched want to run all over his grooves and muscles. Resisting the urge, I released my grip on his hands but felt the world turn as Soldat gripped my hips, slamming me on my back. His dark eyes stared down at mine, tongue rolling antagonizing slowly between his lips. He leaned closer to my own, his warm breath breathing life into me. 

“I let you win.” 

“Oh really,” I cheekily asked, a flirtatious smirk pulling at my lips. 

Soldat nodded with his nose brushing against my own. “Of course, dorogaya.” 

My heart fluttered at the pet name he had given me. Ever since our time in the sun room together, we had slowly started becoming closer with each and every training session. I was, however, afraid to take it farther than our flirtatious comments and soft touches. I wouldn’t allow him to get in trouble, or worse; hurt. Just because of how I felt about him. 

His metal fingers traced down from my cheek to my neck and rested above the lines of my breasts. My breath became erratic when the lightly brushed over my left nipple, perky already due to the coldness of the building. Fingers dug through his locks and gave a slight tug causing a groan to vibrate low in Soldat’s chest. 

“Are you leaving again?” I asked. 

He shook his head while palming my breast and I allowed a moan to slip through my lips.

“I told them no more missions until our training is done,” He spoke low. 

I nodded. 

“We really should stop. Before they find us.” I stuttered, not wanting him to stop kneading my breast with his hand. 

“Let them, they can’t do anything to hurt me that they haven’t done before,” Soldat breathed into the skin of my neck. 

He nipped and sucked there, leaving his mark to show the others here who I belonged to. My hands ran down the thickness of his back and I pressed my hips up into his, a loud hiss breaking its way out of his throat. 

“Dorogaya,” Soldat moaned. 

My fingers traced up his back, slowly fading over where his skin met metal. His body tensed, the lust in the air immediately dissipating as he pushed his body off of me. I was left alone on the dirty floor of my room as I watched him grab his shirt, throwing it over his chest. 

“Did I do something?” I questioned, sitting to my knees. 

“I need to go,” he grunted. 

“Soldat,” I stood to my feet now, “Please tell me if I did something!” 

He ignored my cries of wonder, letting the door slam behind him and drowning out my quiet sobs. 

Day 124

No more training sessions. 

Berge had told me that I was done training with Soldat. He had too many missions to go on and not enough time to give to me. Doubt racked my brain if that was truly the reason why they wouldn’t allow him to train me anymore. They must have found out about us. 

I couldn’t dwell on it for long, Berge assigned another guard to my training. He wasn’t anything compared to Soldat; he was quiet and wouldn’t allow me the chance to improve. Only wanting to show off his strength. We had moved the training sessions in the main area of the compound, in front of every eye. But the only eyes that mattered were the ones that I wanted approval of. 

Soldat would watch from a distance, not bothering to step in when the new trainer would hit me a little too hard. I wouldn’t let that phase me, though. I gave it back a hundred times harder which would only anger him more. 

Which is how I ended up sporting a black eye for the last week. 

Soldat almost stepped in when the new trainers hand grazed lower and lower from my back with each session. Earlier today, we had been sparring in front of all of the other guards and I did my best to ignore their gawks of stares as I attempted to land a strike to his stomach. He was a step ahead of me, twisting my wrist behind my back and pulling me into his chest. I felt his rapid breathing against my back as he leaned his lips against my ear. 

“I love the way your ass fits against me,” He groaned. 

I knew if I tried anything he would twist my arm higher up so I stood frozen in fear while my eyes traveled to the man in the corner, giving him silent pleads for help. 

Soldat turned his back on me. 

After the sparring session, I retreated back to my room, a broken woman. My ego was hurt that I had succumbed so low to these beatings in front of other men. My heart was broken that the one man I had fallen hard for wanted nothing to do with me.

A soft groan left my lips as I stared out into the darkness of the room, sleep being the farthest thing from my mind. 

“God, Y/N you’ve got to move on from him,” I ran a hand over my face with a very unattractive groan leaving my lips. 

“Talking to yourself again?” 

Sitting up in bed, I turned on the bedside lamp and made out a large silhouette standing by the door. But even in the soft darkness, the metal arm was hard to miss. 

“What are you doing here?” I questioned. 

Soldat stepped closer, stopping at the foot of my bed. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” My voice shook with fear. 

I then noticed he was dressed in his tac gear which meant only one thing. 

“You’re going on a mission?” 

He nodded. “I’ll be back by tomorrow night.” 

Pulling my knees to my chest, I raised my brow at him. “You’ve never said goodbye before.”

“I wanted to see you.” He gave a small shrug of his broad shoulders. 

“Oh,” I mouthed.

I allowed silence to overcome us as we both stared at one another, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. My palms began to sweat seeing the fire behind his eyes and I absentmindedly bit my lip. 

Soldat ran a hand through his hair before a quiet fuck it slipped from his lips. He kicked off his boots before crawling his way towards me on the bed. 

“What are you doing?” I asked. 

He ignored my question, only rolling onto his back while pulling me into his chest and his arms wrapping around me. The rapid beating of his heart told me that he was nervous but still kept his arms tightly around me. 

“I’ve been on hundreds of missions but now,” Soldat started, “Now, I’m worried about leaving you. With them.” 

“I’ll be fine. You’ve taught me well.” I gave his sides a small squeeze. 

“I’ve never felt this way before. It’s all new to me.” He admitted. 

“What is?” 

Instead of using words, Soldat’s fingers grazed my chin and pulled my face up to look into his eyes. He took a deep breath before he gently placed his plump lips over mine. The hairs on his chin and face tickled me as our lips moved slowly in sync. 

My heart thumped through its cage in my chest as I ran my fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss. His own hands found their way over my stomach, down to my core and slowly ghosted over it. 

“Soldat, please.” I moaned. 

“You’re mine.” He grunted, fingers finally touching my heated core over my shorts. “All mine.” 

“Only yours, I promise.” 

My breath hitched in my throat when I felt the heat of his fingers against the skin of my stomach, brushing over the waistband of my shorts. While his flesh ones worked with the ties of my shorts, his metal one pulled the ends of my hair, forcing my eyes away from his work on my shorts. 

“I’ll come back to you.” He vowed. 

I nodded. 

“I know you will and I’ll be here waiting for you. Always.” 

Soldat brushed his lips against mine, tongue delving between my lips and danced with my own as the kiss intensified. 

“I have to go.” He groaned against me. 

“Stay.” I begged, clutching onto his arms. 

“It’s my mission.” 

Pulling away reluctantly, I gripped his chin and stared into his eyes. “Please be safe.” 

“Of course, dorogaya.” 

Day 131

Seven days. 

One week. 

168 hours. 

That’s how long it had been since I last saw Soldat. 

He had yet to return from his mission and what originally was supposed to be a one night mission turned into one week. 

I sat on the edge of my cot with my knee bouncing in worry as I chewed roughly on my bottom lip. I feared that Berge had found out about Soldat and I, which was the reason why he had yet to return. 

“Where the hell are you?” I muttered. 

I waited a little while longer, eyes trained hard on the door, hoping that he would bust through any moment. But after a few minutes of nothingness, I turned my back to the door only for it to open a second later. 

“Come with me.” 

My eyes squinted towards the guard, confusion well on my face. “Where are you taking me? I haven’t left in a whole week.” 

“Soldat’s orders.” The guard ordered. 

My heart rate sped up at the mention of his name. “Is he back?” 

“No but he’s requested that you stay in his living quarters now.” 

“Wh-what? Why?” I sputtered. 

“As a reward for completing his mission. Come now.” 

The guard quickly waved me to follow and not wanting to live another minute in this tiny hell, I scrambled to my feet and followed. Not bothering to take anything with me, I tracked close behind the guard as we turned a few more corners, coming to a stop at a lone door at the end of the hallway. 

The guard grunted towards the door before leaving me alone, my steady breaths coming in and out of my nose as I took a second to gain my bearings. In the months that I had been held captive here, I had never seen Soldat’s room; or anything else besides my room, the sparing center, and the “outside” room I was allowed to sit in every few days. 

My hand gently grasped the cold knob and taking one last breath, I slowly pushed the door open. Before my feet crossed the threshold, I gazed around the room taking in every inch of Soldat’s private space. 

It wasn’t big by any means, it would definitely be crowded with the two of us, however it warmed my heart knowing that we would be sharing that bed together. The bed was only made for one and was even small for Soldat. 

Next to the bed was a table that mirrored the one I had in my room. On the top of the table rested a small lamp and a book that looked like it was read ten times over. On the other side of the room was a small dresser that had more books resting on it and next to the dresser was a door that led to somewhere I was unsure of. The large window on one wall allowed the sunset to stream in, painting the entire room in a golden light. 

My gaze rested on a pair of clothes that were neatly folded on the chair in the other corner of the room. Taking a breath, I crossed over the threshold into Soldat’s room and grasped the pair of clean clothes in my hands. It was only a new pair of jeans, underwear, and a long sleeve shirt but the soft fabric was enough to bring me to tears. I had only been given new clothes once since being here and that was the first night. 

“It’s not much but it’s home.” 

Jumping at the deep voice, I turned on my heels and felt my heart leap to my throat. Soldat stood at the doorway, his body a clear indication of the toll the mission put on him. Stray hairs had fallen from the low bun he had pulled them in, the lines on his face screamed that he hadn’t slept in days, and his tac gear was covered in dirt and blood, the blood had also covered his metal arm in streams. Fear raked my body, wondering whose blood was all over Soldat and I bit my lip to stop from asking. 

“You’re back,” I breathed. 

He remained silent, his intense gaze taking over my body. His body tensed when he fell on my lips, the sight of the two cuts burning into his brain. 

“What happened?” 

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shifted on my feet. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” 

“What happened?” Soldat questioned again, this time closing the distance between us. 

Metal fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes as they danced over my face. Anger flashed across them when the soft words left my busted lips. 

“Ben didn’t appreciate getting beat by a girl.” 

“What did he do?” Soldat demanded. 

“He just hit me a little too hard. I’m fine, Soldat.” I reassured him as I gripped his flesh arm. 

The anger still flooded his veins and I linked my fingers with his metal ones, fearing he would leave me and do something we would both regret. 

“You need to get yourself cleaned up,” I encouraged. 

Soldat was still silent, only giving me a small nod as he pulled me with him towards the closed door. 

“What?” I questioned. 

“You need a bath.” He demanded. 

Licking my lips, I let the fear of him seeing my bare flesh push away the thoughts of us in the bath together.

“No, you can go first Soldat. The blood is going to take awhile to clean.” I lied, hoping that would keep the thought of us naked together out of his head. 

I was afraid of what he would think when he saw the bruises and scars that covered my body. 

His eyes hardened, seeing right through my lies, as he gripped my arm causing a loud hiss to pass through my lips. 

“Fuck,” I cursed pulling my arm to my chest. 

He didn’t grip me that hard, I knew that. It only hurt because of the bruise that covered half of my forearm. 

“Take off your shirt.” 

The soles of my shoes were frozen to my spot, being weighed down with the fear of what Soldat was about to see.

“Sol-.” I started. 

“Take it off,” his voice was deeper and rougher. 

Gnawing on my bottom lip, shaky fingers gripped the bottom of my shirt, slowly raising it over my stomach and head, letting it fall to the floor in silence. Instinctively my arms wrapped around my chest, trying to cover as much as I could. Soldat didn’t make me uncomfortable; the idea of showing him my battle scars is what did. 

His dark eyes were now almost black as he looked over my bareness of flesh, taking in every inch of bruises and new scars that had yet to heal over my stomach, chest, and arms. The blood had dried hours ago but the exhaustion of today’s training had stopped me from cleaning my wounds. 

My mouth dried with the intensity radiating from Soldat’s body. 

“We-uh, Ben decided to start the knife training today. He wouldn’t let me get a chance to prove myself. He kept stabbing and slicing,” I admitted quietly. 

Soldat's tongue grazed over his bottom lip and nodded to the door behind me. “We need to clean those wounds.” 

“Are you upset?” 

The tone in his voice answered my question before I even asked it but I needed to make sure he wouldn’t leave, do something stupid. 

He remained silent, beckoning me to follow him with a snap of his head. Obeying with a soft sigh, I trailed behind him into the bathroom that was connected to his room. The soft breeze coming from the vents caused me to wrap my arms around my bare chest, trying to keep the warmth in. I could see the way Soldat’s muscles in his back tensed as he leaned over, running hot water and letting it fill the tub. The steam danced around his head as he peeked over his shoulder, nodding towards my pants. 

The silence was thickening and my fingers gripped the top of my pants, slowly pulling them down my legs; the new visions of bruises and scars clouding Soldat’s vision. The only thing keeping me from bearing it all to him was a thin piece of fabric. Soldat turned on his knees, face inches from my core, and goosebumps rose to my skin as I felt his finger slide my underwear down over my knees and I stepped out of them. He tossed them to the side while keeping his eyes trained hard on me as he looked up into my own. 

“Get in.” Soldat’s flesh fingers tapped the back of my thigh, his warm breath brushing against my heated core. 

The water immediately eased the sore muscles and wounds as I submerged myself, pulling my knees to my chest. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Soldat stripping himself of his own clothes before I felt the water slosh behind me. Metal fingers wrapped around my middle pulling me into a hard chest. We sat in silence as he first cleaned me then him. 

“I should have been here,” his words mumbled against the skin of my shoulder as he pressed a soft kiss there. 

“You needed to go on your mission.” I reminded him. 

“I will kill him.” He vowed. 

I hushed him with a soft squeeze of his thigh, fingers resting easily over the mass of them. “I’ll be alright.” 

“You’re coming with me on the next mission.” 

I smiled at the softness in his voice. 

“I don’t think Berge will like that.” I admitted. 

Soldat took a damp cloth to my legs and stomach, cleaning the wounds with soft touches. 

“They can kill me to try and stop me.” Soldat deadpanned. 

I opened my mouth to protest but he silenced me with a kiss to my forehead, whispering promises of him saving me, protecting me, no matter what the cost will be. 

“I missed you, dorogaya.”Soldat breathed, his cock hardening against the small of my back. 

“I missed you too,” I moaned. 

His fingers grazed over my core underneath the water, rubbing circles over my clit. His lips attached to my neck, leaving his mark for all to see. 

“I need you.” 

The water splashed out of the tub as Soldat lifted me out and carried me bridal style into his bedroom. I fell to the bed with a soft sigh and my eyes took in the God-like form of Soldat, his dick twitching with anticipation. I took in every groove and line of his muscles, the way they tensed under the light as he stood in front of me. 

“Soldat,” I begged, “I can’t wait anymore.” 

“Say your mine.” He commanded. 

“I’m yours.” 

“Good girl,” Soldat praised while his metal fingers stroked his already hard cock. 

He slowly climbed up the bed, laying soft kisses over the skin of my legs and thighs on his way up. My body shook with the want of his body on mine, skin on skin underneath the moonlight from outside. 

That night, our bodies linked together in pure bliss and adoration for one another. Our moans that bounced off the walls were a proclamation of our growing love for each other. 

That night was the first and last time Soldat and I made love.

 Day 132-The last day. 

Eyes slowly blinked open as I patted the spot next to me, finding it empty and cold. My brows pulled together in confusion as I looked around the room trying to figure out where Soldat had gone. I groaned at the soreness between my legs as I sat up in bed, clutching the sheet tighter to my chest. The memories of last night clouded my vision and my cheeks reddened remembering all the ways Soldat’s fingers and mouth had pleasured me. 

The door had burst open causing me to jump at the sight of the man that had entered. 

“Where did you–?” 

“You have to go; leave.” Soldat rushed while handing me my clothes. 

“What?” Tears started to well up in my eyes. 

“You need to leave, now. It’s not safe for you anymore.” Soldat demanded. 

Rising from the bed, I let the sheet fall to the floor before quickly dressing. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Soldat ran a hand over his tired face before a loud sigh left his lips. “Berge has plans for you that I will not let happen. You need to leave here.” 

“Plans?” I croaked. “What plans?” 

“There’s a door on the other end of the compound that I always leave through to go on my missions. I left it unlocked last night. Once you’re outside, run west for 5 miles. There will be a gas station where you can call for a ride.” 

Soldat ignored my questioning pleads as he handed me a pair of his boots and a jacket to keep me warm once I was outside. 

“No, Soldat. I’m not leaving you.” 

“It’s not up for discussion. You’re leaving.” He demanded. 

“I won’t leave you. I love-.”

My confession was short lived as we heard voices yelling from down the hallway. Soldat cursed before pulling me into his chest. His plump lips brushed against my forehead while his hands wrapped around my back, giving a hard squeeze. My fingers gripped tight his vest, the fear of leaving him weighing heavy on my chest. 

“I can’t leave you, Soldat.” I confessed. 

“Wait ten minutes then take a left at the end of the hallway, the door to your escape will be the last one on the left.” 

Soldat pulled away from me, strong eyes staring into my sad ones. His pink lips stood out from underneath the stubble that had grown since the last time I had seen him. I unknowingly reached out for him as he took a step away from me. 

“Soldat,” I sobbed. “Please don’t make me leave.” 

“Stay safe, Dorogaya.”  

We shared one last loving glance before I watched him turn his back on me, walk down the hall and out of my life. 

Those ten minutes had passed by antagonizing slowly and now matter how much I wanted to stay here with Soldat, I knew that he was looking out for my safety. We both knew the kind of man Berge was and if whatever he had planned for me scared even Soldat, I knew I had to trust him. 

Regretfully, my feet took me down the way that Soldat had instructed me. They froze, however, when I noticed commotion coming from the room to my left; the one I had to pass in order for me to reach my freedom. 

“Get him in the chair!” 

“Sir, it’s been months since we’ve wiped him. We don’t know the risks!” 

“I don’t care about the risks! He needs to forget her!” 

Slowly peeking from around the corner, I watched in fear as four men struggled to get Soldat in a chair that sat in the middle of the room. No matter how much he had fought the men, Soldat gave up in the end, falling into the chair with a groan. 

When his broken eyes landed on me, his chest rose in fear and he motioned to the door, begging me to leave. 

“I’m sorry,” I mouthed. 

Not wanting to stick around and see what they were about to do to him, no matter how much I loved him, I ran down the hallway and out of the prison I had called home for the last 132 days. And away from the one and only man that would haunt my dreams every single night for the next three years.

[snoopyana]

rockland

jung sungchan. “you will love me until you resent me.”

—

what do lonely girls do in their free time? think about the boy whom they broke things off with — calling, spamming, blowing up his phone. she hopes that maybe he’ll pick up her calls and accept her apologies and pleas. that’s what she does.

or at least that’s what you do.

w ; smut, angst. sungchan is used as an outlet, sexually and emotionally. heavily implied that this is a reoccurring event. sungchan is being used in a very consensual manner.

eyes glued to your ceiling fan, your phone hung lazily in your fingers. eunseoks’ voice bouncing off the walls — claiming he’s too busy to pick up the phone and feel free to leave a voicemail after the beep. tears brimmed in your eyes at the automated message.

god knows how many voicemails you left.

and only god knows if he even listened to those emails. going in by the dozen for months, maybe he sat and counted how many you sent that month. or maybe he listened to the all and kept count of which ones were drunk rambles and which ones were simply you bawling into the mic. or maybe he ignored them completely — letting the digital messages pile up and collect dust.

curling into yourself, you pulled your phone closer to your face. the dimmed screen displayed his contact information, with the contact picture that never changed, and the nickname that stayed the same. thumb hovering over the call button, you silently prayed to god he’d answer this time around.

the annoying buzz of your phone filled the quiet space. buzzing once, twice, three times before the line cutout. instead of the usual 2 minutes of waiting for someone to pick up on the other end, it simply went dead moments after it started.

he clicked decline that time.

the direct rejection in the form of clicking that big red button made fresh tears swell in your waterline and your cheeks puff in frustration. eyelashes clumping together, you could faintly see the digital clock in the corner of your screen — 2:15 AM. after nearly 2 hours of nonstop blowing up his phone.

another frustrated groan leaving your lips as another realization dawned on you. when you tried one last time, instead of consistently ringing, it rang once and went straight to voicemail.

great, eunseok had finally blocked you.

throwing the device onto the nightstand, you let yourself get lost underneath the blankets and pillows that decorated every nook and cranny of the mattress. a foreign silence draped over the room, until it was once again disturbed.

this time, not by you or your now neglected phone. but by the sound of your door groaning on its old — rusty — hinges, and your floorboards creaking under the weight of your misfortunate roommate.

“are you finally done?”

jolting up, your heartbeat settled and relaxed as his face finally came into focus. it wasn’t the face that you exactly wanted to see, but it was a face that you’d accept with semi-open arms.

“yeah.”

although you fully expected him to shuffle over and slide his way into your bed, it was quite strange to watch as you simply stood there. opens hugging at his own torso, fingers digging into the cloth of his pajama shirt, his hair all messy and untamed — the product of tossing and turning relentlessly in his bed.

the silence as well, it made you uneasy. though maybe you had grown to expect him to simply bend and snap at your will — to help you get over eunseok, only to go back and beg for him to answer your calls. it wasn’t a never ending race, that seemed to have no finish line. because even though you were now blocked, an email or two never hurt anyone.

a sudden dip in your bed brung you back to reality, as sungchan now wordlessly kneeled next to you — hands rubbing at the basketball shorts that clothed his thighs. thought he was the one to make his way into your bedroom without being told to, sungchan had a habit of always waiting for you to make the first move. waiting for the moment you’d guide his head down towards the pillows, making his whole body fall into the sheets as well.

waiting for the moment you shifted all your weight onto him and used your hands to cup his face as his found sanctuary at your waist. sighing as your would met his.

but they didn’t, not yet at least.

your lips hovered just over his, slightly brushing against his bottom lip as you stared down at his face. opening his eyes, he was met with yours. staring, watching.

“he finally blocked me, isn’t that crazy?” whispering against his mouth, the tears that once sat on your waterline fell onto his cheeks before you finally connected your lips with his. humming softly, he attempted to shake his head — although he wasn’t surprised one bit. quite surprised that he hadn’t blocked you sooner, rather than months later.

but what did he know? he was just a stress-relief.

swiping your tongue over his lips, sungchan allowed you to take full control, allowed your tongue to explore the expanse of his mouth, allowed your hands to tug and twist at his dark hair a little harder than he’d appreciate on a typical night. but nothing about these nights were ever particularly, typical.

his grip on your body loosened as you felt your lips disconnect from his and your body slowly come up. shifting your weight that was once equally distributed across his body, and push down on his hips.

“i just can’t believe it. honestly, it pisses me off more than it makes me sad.” tugging at his shirt, sungchan simply nodded along as his shirt was removed and placed onto your nightstand, right ontop of your phone.

manicured nails grazed up and down his torso, adding pressure as they slowly trailed up. leaving white lines that stood out against his slightly tanned skin.

lowering back down, your lips dragged against his collarbones. nipping, licking, even kissing at the skin as you made your way down his exposed throat. working your way back up, until you rested right next to his left ear.

“sungchan, be honest. okay?” mumbling against his skin, your caught a glimpse of him closing his eyes before letting out a low ‘hm?’

“do you think i’m crazy?” you ask.

biting at the shell of his ear, the action caused his body to slightly convulse before relaxing — resulting in a delay of his answer. digging your nails into his scalp, it seemed to be enough to bring him back to life.

“no..”, letting out a shaken sigh, he relished in the feeling of your tongue leaving a warm trail down his throat once again, “not one bit.”

sure, he was lying — but he’d say anything you wanted to him to. just to keep you on top of his body.

though, he was met with the cold air of your room as the warmth that radiated off of your body slowly slipped away. opening his eyes, sungchan realized that you were just going to remove his bottoms, going to leave him completely bare.

stripping him of his clothing, was almost like stripping of him of his power. though he barely had any power to begin with.

the power imbalance obvious every-time you two touched. as sungchan lay naked and exposed to the world, your body was safely hidden behind a t-shirt and underwear.

only once did you ever fully remove your panties, and he could barely keep his eyes open to witness it.

hard and excited, he writhed as your bottom unexpected rubbed against his tip as you trued to situate yourself once again. bending his knees, sungchan dug his heels into the mattress, attempting to ground himself. not wanting to cum from simply, unintentional, touches.

his irregular and rather erratic breathing filled the dead space in the room, slowly growing impatient as you simply drew circles on his abdomen.

“hopefully tomorrow, he’ll unblock me.” you say before lifting your hips. sliding the panties that clung to your middle.

adjusting his eyes, he watched as you brought one of his own hands to keep the fabric from getting in the way.spitting in your palm, you’d use the saliva and precum that graciously leaked from his cock to give his erection a few quick pumps before slowly sinking down onto him.

allowing himself to simply be an escape as you rolled your hips against him.

slow rises and falls soon turned quicker. your pace increasing as you chased after that itch that needed to be scratched. fingers digging into his shoulders, his own made faint impressions on your waist.

sungchans’ eyes closed, as his jaw hung low. moaning like a girl, he couldn’t help but indulge just a bit. bucking up into you, everything stopped just as quick as it started.

—

laying in his own bed, sungchan quickly jerked himself off inside the four walls of his bedroom. hand cupped over his mouth, keeping any short of moana to himself.

yeah, he never came while with you. but he always came to the thought of you. listening to the muffled sound of you shuffling around your bedroom.

he was more than happy to be a stress-reliever.

hey. i wrote this in under 2 hours at 2 in the morning and truly didn’t feel like writing a full smut scene, sorry!! i just had the motivation and it slowly started to fade the more i went on, but i hope this was enjoyable. big boy sungchan becoming a human dildo because your ex boyfriend won’t pick your calls. — xoxo, yana.

[saturncoyote]

Remembering this one addition i got to my analysis post recently that got me thinking... yeah it IS pretty strange that Creek is one of the only villains who's main reason for being hated isn't even rooted in his actions but his personality (the only other one i can think of where this is the case is maybe Crimp and that's it), villains who have done just as bad or even worse things than him are loved for their funny and loveable moments while he's thrown aside to rot in the sidelines

Plus with the movie's pattern of redeeming those villains with loveable personalities while refusing to give Creek a chance to redeem himself, even in the cartoons where he's still written as at best a annoying side character, it does leave a weird implication where only characters that are likeable are deserving of a second chance, like i said in my analysis: he shouldn't NEED to be perfect to deserve a nicer fate

There's also this weird misconception that comes with him being unlikeable where people will straight up refuse to see his actions from his perspective or even imply that he was given chances to escape or change his mind when there is no indication of that happening in the movie, like he isn't allowed to be a victim just because he's annoying, to ignore what he went through just because you don't like him as a character leaves a bad taste in my mouth

Don't get me wrong, he's annoying and bad and that's the point of his character... but WHY is that the point ? How does that add to his character ? Yes he's meant to be a wake-up call for Poppy about positivity not always being the answer but that's not even done correctly, why is he put into terrible situations out of his control if we're not suppose to feel sorry for him ? Why does his personality do a complete 180 once he betrays Pop Village ?? Is truly all of that JUST so Dreamworks can have an excuse to not give him a redemption ? His writting is so all over the place and it frustrates me to no end

[ilium-ilia]

All Yours

Paring: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Synopsis: Your friends always tease you for being a virgin, so you decide to go home with someone they point out in the pub. Kyle seems kind enough, but he isn't very keen on letting you go.

Tags: smut, oral sex, PIV sex, virginity loss, hymen breaking, alcohol, possessiveness, implied break in, a hint of non-con touching at the end, Kyle is a little barmy but we can look past that, i did not edit a single word in this i had an idea and the energy to write it and that's it.

Liquor coats your tongue the same way it always does—alluring and biting. It sinks its teeth into the wet muscle and burrows down your esophagus until its created a lovely hibernaculum in which to rest in while it festers in your bloodstream. 

Pain, and comfort. 

That’s what tonight seems to be comprised of. As are most of your nights, these days. Bored fingers tap along the bartop as your friends indulge one another with debauched stories of their sex lives all while you smile and nod as if you understand the feelings they describe or the frustrations of laying in bed with someone who fucks like a cactus in a wind storm. 

Their gazes aren’t lost on you. It’s only natural for their eyes to wander over to the only virgin at the table. They look at you adoringly, as if you’re some mythical creature they often don’t happen across—something to be gawked at. Mortification joins the alcohol in your stomach as you tell yourself to ignore their gentle cooing and playful taunts. 

It’s not that deep. 

But it feels deep. It’s an abyss that swallows you whole—this idea of sex. They tell you it’s infinitesimal yet every time you attempt to wade through the waters you find your fingers clawing through the air as you attempt to keep yourself from drowning. You’d like to toss away your virginity just so it no longer hangs over your head like some thunder cloud ready to dump rain on your body, but you can’t quite get yourself to brave the blood that would follow after you cut it free from your body. 

What about him? He looks like a good lay. 

They point towards a man on the other side of the pub. He’s made himself comfortable at a table meant for two as his fingers choke the bottom of his pint. Short cropped hair lies close to his skull in thick curls while earthy brown eyes focus on the football game roaring on the television on the wall above him. His skin looks velvety smooth even with the faint scar on his cheek, and his face looks kind beneath the glow of the monitor. 

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t attractive. Between his broad shoulders and chiseled hands, he’s the poster boy for the models they used to plaster pictures of in the magazines meant for teen girls you used to read as a kid. 

He looks lonely. 

You echo the sentiment when you approach his table with pursed lips, already awaiting your rejection. He looks up at you and his lips pull into a wide smile over pearly white teeth—you don’t notice how sharpy they are through the sheer beauty that beams before you. 

“I might be,” he says, indulging your poor attempt at a pickup. His eyes flicker to the seat across from him for a short moment before he nods at you. “Gonna fix that for me, love?” 

His name is Kyle. You feared that the moment you sat down with him and he opened his mouth, he would do something to make you regret wandering over here in the first place, but he doesn’t. Each syllable that rolls off of his tongue is silky smooth with a voice with just enough vocal fry to haunt your dreams. He buys you another drink when you’re finished with your first one, and you find yourself giggling with him more than you ever do with your friends (though, it remains to be seen if it’s because of him, or your intoxication). 

Wanna get out of here? 

His apartment is quaint. Various video game consoles lie in perfect organization beneath his TV stand, and a few of the controllers rest on the coffee table next to the remote. Each counter glistens beneath the stove light, save for a few crumbs from a sandwich he had eaten for lunch earlier that day. There is a faint aroma of bleach, sandalwood and—

—iron? 

Kyle does not give you much time to mull over the state of his apartment before he’s got you buried in the duvet on his bed. Like a rocking boat in the ocean, you follow his whims as he strips you bare before him, body on display in the pallid light of his bedroom. Anticipation rears its head as your stomach churns. You’ve seen the films. You know how this is supposed to go. 

Still, you are pleasantly surprised when you find Kyle’s head between your thighs. He curiously thumbs over your clit a few times just to watch your body jolt, and he grins as you throw your head back into his pillows. When his mouth replaces his thumb, you feel your desire pound against your chest, ready to burst free into the cold air around you. 

His tongue swipes over you, not even bothering to temper you into the pure pleasure he plunges you into. All his efforts are focused onto one spot, the very spot that pulses with needy want as your hips twitch and buck against him. He chuckles, then hums lowly as his hands grip your hips to roll you along the flat of his tongue. Desperate fingers push at the back of his head. None of your friends described sex like this—wet and lewd. None of them ever talked about dancing on the tongue of their lovers like you are now. 

“Kyle, that- that feels so good,” you croon. 

He groans when you say his name. It bleeds between your lips like a hushed confession—a secret between you and God. His tongue quickens along your clit and the hinge of your jaw begins to tighten. He does not say anything to you when you begin to babble further. Kyle continues to devour—to eat—to consume—

Something snaps within you. Parichord frays then slices, leaving behind nothing but searing marks across your skin as endorphins numb your brain and sizzle throughout your legs. When your thighs close around Kyle's head, he does not push them aside for breath, but rather he allows you to ride this wave until your muscles melt around him and his tongue ceases to move. 

“You taste so sweet. Like tangerine and blood,” he murmurs as he pulls away. His comparison makes your head spin—and blood—but you push it out of your mind as you witness him sit back on his haunches and remove his shirt in one slick, practiced motion. Soft abs roll and swell with his breathing as his fingers begin to prod along your pussy. “You look so pretty like this. Nothing but a mess for me, aren’t you? Yeah, there-” 

You witness in real time as something ensnares Kyle's brain into silence. Eyes widening, his fingers hardly press into your entrance before they meet resistance. Pulling away from you, he puts his hands on the underside of your knees before he pushes your legs apart. 

“Hold your legs out for me. Yeah, just like that, love,” he orders. Trembling fingers hook underneath your thighs as you hold yourself apart for him. You stare up at him from between your knees with curious eyes. “Is that… fuck…” 

Slender fingers prod at your pussy once more, and you feel the cold air rush to meet the wetness on your skin as he inspects your cunt. You watch the soft brown of his eyes morph from wet autumn leaves into a dark void as he prods against some thin membrane just at your entrance. 

“You’re a virgin?” he asks. 

Embarrassment cuts through you like a dull blade. “You can tell?” 

“Your hymen is still intact.” Kyle doesn’t look at you. Instead, he continues to spread you apart, eyes locked onto your pussy. “You sure you want me to take this, love? To take you?” 

Your hips shift. Gathering as much spare courage as you’re able to find, you nod. “Please, Kyle.” 

It doesn’t take long for him to fish his cock from his trousers. Something whispers at you to ask him about a condom, but your mind is thrown into silence the moment he slaps himself against your clit. He’s thick—uncut and desperately leaking, he rubs himself over your cunt before he pushes himself into you. 

The burn is faint at first, but it progresses from flickering embers into a roaring fire. Kyle watches with dilated eyes as his cock splits and tears your hymen. The thin tissue weeps with trace amounts of blood, and he finds his throat growing tight as your cunt begins to constrict around him. 

“Kyle, that-” 

“I know,” he interrupts. “But fuck look at that. Never seen anything like that. Like you. You’re taking it so well, love, I just… there.” He bottoms out with a sharp thrust that has your nails digging into the back of your thighs. Dropping your legs, you slap your hands over your mouth to hold back a wail. Kyle falls forward, draping your body with his as he begins to shallowly thrust into you. “I’m not gonna be able to get enough of this.” 

The foreign sensation ripples through you, stunning you into silence as Kyle’s cock pistons through your cunt. You feel the very ridge of his cockhead, the swell of his balls against your rump, even the trimmed hair on his pubic bone rubbing against your clit. The very world begins to fall away beneath you, and your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself. You feel the curve of his lips as he grins against your throat. 

“All mine. All fucking mine,” he repeats as his teeth nip beneath your jaw. A tense thumb makes its way to your clit once more just as you feel his hips begin to stutter and jolt. “Say it. All fucking mine, aren’t you love?” 

“Yes!” you wail. “All yours, Kyle. Please, please let me come!” 

He greedily times his orgasm with yours, and it isn’t long before you’re constricting around him and he’s spilling his cum into you with several throbbing pulses of his cock. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, your muscles go slack as he continues to shallowly thrust into you, grunting each time he bottoms out, refusing to waste a single drop. 

“All mine.”

Kyle’s mantra only repeats in your mind for a little while after that night. He had tenderly cleaned you up in the shower before lovingly taking you to work the next morning—then, you vanished. Into thin air. Dissipated into nothing more than a tricky zephyr between his fingers. 

The two of you were nothing more than a fling. 

That’s what you thought. 

When your confidence grows enough to take another stranger home from the bar with you, you shouldn’t be surprised to find Kyle already waiting in your apartment when the two of you arrive, but you are. He sits comfortably on your sofa with narrowed eyes as the door swings open, and your jaw goes slack at the sight of him. 

Baby, who’s this? 

Your one-night-stand rushes out of the door behind you, muttering something about being the other man, leaving you to stand in front of Kyle, trembling as if you’re out in the cold. 

“Kyle? What the hell are you doing here?” you ask. “Did you-? How did you even know I lived here? Seriously, what the fuck?” 

“Did you not mean it?” Kyle’s eyes are severe as he stands. He stalks forward with raised brows until your back is pressed against the door and his arms are on either side of your head. “When you said you were all mine, did you not mean it?” 

Shaking your head, your bottom lip begins to tremble. “I don’t understand.” 

His hands snake down until he’s palming at you through your pants. Gasping at the pressure, your eyes squeeze shut as his teeth nip at the side of your cheek, and you wince. 

“You let me take this. Your virginity. It’s mine now. You’re mine now.” His lips brush away the pain on your cheek with a chaste kiss. “Say it to me, love.” 

Fear pierces through your heart at the deep growl of authority in his tone. He has you trapped, caged in his arms like you’re nothing more than an animal. Knowing you have no other choice, your throat bobs as you swallow. 

“I… I’m all yours, Kyle.” 

[littlemissshifter]

hi!! i recently found your blog and i love how you approach shifting in general. after joining tumblr a few months ago, I've made so much more progress since 2020 than ever before. (*^^*)

shifting is basically just becoming aware of the reality you wanna experience and being indifferent to anything else. naturally, you embody the person you are in whatever reality you wanna wake up in, right? right. and according to one of the posts you've reblogged, shifting is what you make of it, so for me, i just decided that in order to wake up in my dr i just have to daydream a bit, talk to myself etc. because that's fun and easy.

but here is something I've been struggling with.

1. my mind will not. shut. up. when i want to shift before falling asleep. i embody my dr self for a few minutes, but then my mind starts to wander to thoughts about my outer reality (e.g. thoughts like "ugh, i don't wanna do xyz in the morning", thinking about the day ahead and other issues) and it keeps happening no matter how much i try to refocus on who i am in my dr. it just keeps reverting back and in the end i completely stop thinking about my dr self because my thoughts get distracted so easily. i know, assuming that something is holding you back from shifting will make it so, but i really feel like this is one of the main things that is stunting my progress. what can i do about this? falling asleep and waking up in my dr is the way i want to shift and i think complicated methods and whatnot are counterproductive.

2. speaking of embodying your dr self, do i have to do that all day? by that i mean, do i have to watch each and every single one of my 3d thoughts like "i don't wanna do this assignment," etc. and replace it with a thought my dr self would have? because if we apply neville and loa to shifting, wouldn't any thought (and by that i also mean habitual and automatic ones like in the example) i have about the 3d, imply that I'm not in my dr and would therefore be a contradiction of my desire? but that seems so tiring and like so much effort. I've already asked a couple of my favorite bloggers about this, but i haven't received an answer, so i would really appreciate one! ( ・∇・)

3. this is a really small question, but how do i absolutely 100% trust myself that I'll wake up in my dr? i know the 4d is the only real reality, but sometimes i assume i wake up there with absolute certainty, and then the 3d still hasn't caught up yet when i wake up in the morning. i usually am like "it's fine, idc about the 3d because I'm there in imagination" when that happens and i get that this (aka using the 3d as a measure for success) is literally the main reason for failure when applying loa, but it's becoming harder to keep assuming the same thing over and over with no progress. (again, typing this, i realize how stupid i sound because this is LITERALLY a "how to not shift/manifest 101" 😭).

thanks a lot, i know this was a long read!! (p.s. can i be 🫧 anon?)

Hiii!! Thank you sm!!

1. It's okay if the mind doesn't shut up. The few minutes you were able to embody your dr self is more than enough. People shift without not even intending to. Let your mind wander after, it helps you relax!! Holding on to those thoughts thinking you shouldn't have them will frustrate you so let's not give them so much importance. Let them be. It's okay feel that way!! But it's not holding you back. Nothing can hold you back from shifting. Just do what you do because you're gonna be waking up in your dr anyways.

2. NO!!! That is not how it's supposed to be. The only thoughts you should be ignoring are the ones when you think you're not in your dr. Doing work in your 3D is not related to them. Importantly, subconscious thoughts related to physical work in the 3D do not hold you back. The subconscious is connected to every reality, it doesn't need to have filtered thoughts. Thoughts aren't the only way to embody your dr self. You can do things that your dr self likes. For example: watching a certain show, eating ice cream, listening to a song or even sleeping. Honestly you don't have to embody your dr self at all to shift, just being aware of your existence in that reality is enough.

3. 3D is real. It's very much real. The only reason we say 4D is the 'real' reality because we choose the things we will experience in the 3D in the 4D. Both are real in different planes of existence. Shifting is a mental decision. You shift internally first. Physical manifestation of your assumption is not the main goal because you have it already. I mean, you chose it didn't you? Keep choosing it over and over. It's your truth. Assumption is basically smth you believe in without seeing the proof. So keep assuming you're doing everything right!!

AND YES YOU CAN BE 🫧 ANON OMG YOU'RE THE FIRST ONE EHHSHS.

Anyways, I hope this helped you!! I've been tying for like 20 minutes lololol.

[isogenderskitty]

i think it's interesting how steph is like... the nerds see her as part of the popular group, and sure we see her talking to the cheerleaders a little, but other than that she doesn't really seem to be one of them in the truest sense? i could fully believe that she feels like the tiniest bit of an outcast there, like she's just cool enough for max to give her a pass but she doesn't really click with them that well. she feels to me like the bridge between the popular ones and the nerds, which is appropriate i suppose for her place in the story.

[sammygender]

i’ve said this soooo many times but i cannot believe the widespread fandom take on nightmares is ‘episode that proves john didn’t hit the kids or at least that sam didn’t know about :)’ NO??? that entire episode is to directly parallel sam to max??? i really hate to break it to you guys but sam being like Damn at least we weren’t and aren’t still being regularly beat to shit by the two male parental figures in our lives 🙏 lucky to have dad fr is not the same as him saying Wow i’m so grateful dad never hit us at all. essentially he is literally like ‘if dad had got drunk more often and hadn’t channeled his energy into hunting maybe we would’ve ended up like max. guess i should be grateful he didn’t”. hello. how does that endorse an entirely violence-free parenting style. like have your own interpretation. but the text of the episode isn’t saying John didn’t hit them. the text of the episode is intentionally bringing up the concept of john hitting them, withholding direct judgement/confirmation on whether it happened and keeping it ambiguous, sure, but still bringing it to our attention.

[skitskatdacat63]

.

[rainybraindays]

once again do not get why people act like Anthony is such a good brother

[my-current-obsession]

Me, delusional, foaming at the mouth:

ISH ROUTE??? POTENTIAL ISH ROUTE? PLEASE?