#here we go again ; I did not know there were two versions of the apostrophe

[littlestpersimmon]

divine umbilical cord shrine

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @aspiringmehood  donated $25, and requested ‘Sam/Dean, late seasons, dealing with Stanford.’ Thank you for donating!

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Dean’s cooking--kind of, in that he’s stirring boxed pancake mix with some water--and Sam’s on the phone.

“No, I think that sounds great,” he’s saying. “Seems like the essay matters a lot depending on the school you’re hoping to get into, but your test scores and grades are obviously big, too. How did you do on the SAT?”

This isn’t a conversation that they’re on speakerphone for--Sam’s easy at the kitchen table, the phone to his ear and his laptop open in front of him, and when Dean turns around with the bowl of mix he looks at Sam’s shoulders, turned away, and chews the inside of his cheek, and puts butter on the griddle.

“Definitely,” Sam says, to something Dean can’t hear. He laughs, quietly. “I think Jody could probably do as well as I could, but let me know if you need more help. Sure thing.”

He hangs up, shakes his head. Dean pours a neat circle of batter onto the griddle, listens to the hiss. “How’s Alex?” he says.

“Applying to schools,” says Sam. Like that wasn’t obvious. He glances at Dean over his shoulder with a small smile, turns back to his laptop. “Jody made her call me because she was convinced she couldn’t get in anywhere with a sketchy school record. Think I proved her wrong.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, and looks down at the pancakes. Bubbles starting and soon it’ll be time to flip. “She’s smart.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, absently, and closes his computer, stands up. “Those’ll be done soon, huh?” he says, and at Dean’s nod he says, “Cool, I’ll be right back--just want to get something sent over to Alex before we eat,” and he’s gone, then, and Dean’s standing in the kitchen by himself, looking at pancakes, with no idea why his stomach feels as knotted up as it does. Except he does know, really. He flips the pancakes. It’s not worth thinking about.

It eats at him anyway. All day. Sam’s researching something-or-other to do with the Darkness, and Cas isn’t answering calls, and Dean--doesn’t have anything to do. He about drove himself into the ground, trying to come up with something, and Sam practically sat on him and told him he had to take some time away from it. They still don’t know what’s going on there, and going insane about it isn’t helping, and so he’s trying. He changes the oil in the Impala; he cleans the kitchen. He goes down to the shooting range and cores neat holes through the faceless targets and wants--a rot-eaten fence at the edge of the woods, and shooting up Coke bottles, and the sun beating down.

He takes a shower and when he goes to bed, Sam’s on the chair in his room, typing at something on his knees. “What are you doing?” Dean says, and Sam glances up at him, smiles at him in his pajama pants, but says, “Editing,” and when Dean frowns he clarifies: “Alex’s college essay. Apparently it’s too embarrassing to show Jody.” His eyes drop back to the computer screen and he shakes his head. “She’s got an interesting relationship with apostrophes.”

Dean doesn’t have anything to say to that. He didn’t know apostrophes were something you could have a relationship with of any kind. “You going to be done with English class in my bedroom any time soon?” he says instead, and Sam glances at him, shakes his head again.

“Yeah--sorry, just didn’t want to wait on it,” he says, and clicks something, and closes the laptop, dumps it on Dean’s dresser. He’s in pajamas too, that touchable washed-to-death shirt and the flannel pants Dean got him when his last pair got accidentally eaten by the dryer--Dean still maintains that that one wasn’t his fault--and when he climbs into bed he’s just--warm, and soft to the touch, and he settles like it’s natural against Dean’s back. Maybe it is natural for them, anymore. Ever since he got the mark off his arm they haven’t really bothered, with separate beds, and it’s--good. Better than Dean thought it’d be. He settles his head more comfortably on the pillow and Sam kisses the back of his neck, just--soft, not going anywhere with it, but it makes Dean’s gut tighten up anyway. Sappy bitch, he thinks, fondly, and then Sam sighs, slips his arm around Dean’s waist.

“She’s so excited, man,” he says. Dean opens his eyes, looks into the darkness on the opposite wall. “It’s kinda cool, you know? She had this screwed up life and now she gets to get out of it--make something of herself.”

“Lucky,” Dean says.

Sam huffs, obviously smiling. “Her version of this will be a little easier, though,” he says, “since she actually has--you know--a mailbox. No weird forwarding addresses and hoping she doesn’t miss an envelope. Seriously, lucky.”

Dean turns his face more into his pillow, doesn’t answer. It’ll be easier for her, too, he thinks, without having to hide every part of it from her family--for her not to have to pretend it’s not happening--and when she leaves--

He closes his eyes, feels Sam’s bulk all up against his back. He’s here. Here, and he swore he’d always be, and Dean has to believe that. If he doesn’t, then what’s the point?

Apparently it’s application season. Sam calls Alex again the next day, talks her through some of the things he suggests she might change in her essay. She doesn’t have her sights set on the stars--no Stanford or Harvard or MIT for her--but she’s still nervous, wants to get it right. Sam snorts, when he gets off the phone, says, “Claire says she hopes they’ve got hairdressing electives at Minnesota,” and Dean thinks, jesus, Claire. He shoves back, away from the table, and when Sam gives him a startled look he says, “Forgot, I was going to go to the store,” and it’s a shitty lie but it’s the only thing he can come up with in that second--imagining Claire and Jody, alone in the house, and how it feels when three people turns into two--and then because he’s said it he grabs his coat and gets into the car and drives into town, and he knows he’s being an absolute dumbass but it comes like this, sometimes, and he can’t help it.

He’s nearly calmed down, by the time he gets back. “Got beer,” he announces, which he did, and even crap for a salad for Sam, and stuff for burgers, and Sam helps him carry it into the kitchen and helps put it away, and then he grabs Dean by a jeans-pocket and traps him against the island with his hands on the counter either side of Dean’s hips, and he looks down at him square, and he says, “Why are you being weird?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Pot-kettle, Sammy,” he says, and pushes at Sam’s stomach.

Sam doesn’t budge, though, and Dean looks away. “Dude, like I don’t know you,” Sam says. He resettles his hands on Dean’s waist, squeezes soft. “Is it--are you having dreams, again? About the Darkness?”

He is, but that’s not new. He could lie and say it was that. “Nah, I’m good,” he says, because he is--he really is, no matter how much of a spaz he’s being.

Sam doesn’t let him go, though, and Dean knows he’s frowning. “Then...” he starts, and seems to--get it, somehow, from Dean’s brainwaves or something, because he sighs and it sounds disappointed. “The college thing.”

“It’s no big deal,” Dean says, or tries to, because before he can really get the last word out Sam’s cupped his face in both hands and pulled him straight and is kissing him--shallow, precise like Sam can be sometimes--good enough that Dean grabs Sam’s hips, opens up to it, tilts. Sam’s mouth, taste of bitter coffee. Perfect.

When Sam pulls back it’s by a few inches, and when Dean opens his eyes Sam’s smiling at him, but it’s kind of--sad, or compassionate, or pitying maybe. Hard to tell. “You’re a bad liar,” Sam says.

True, lately. Still. “You’re a bad liar,” Dean retorts, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Come here,” Sam says, and Dean doesn’t want to, but Sam tugs at his wrist and Dean follows him--out of the kitchen, into the hall, and then into Sam’s room, where Sam kicks off his boots and sits on the bed, and when he holds out his hand Dean takes it, and is drawn up to... sit in Sam’s lap, his knees spread around Sam’s hips.

Not a position he usually takes, at least when they’re dressed. He raises his eyebrows and Sam shrugs. “Trying some positive reinforcement,” he says, which doesn’t make any damn sense. The way he’s propped up against the headboard, Dean’s looking down at him, for once. Sam’s mouth lifts at one corner, his eyes all over Dean’s face. “Talk.”

“This is dumb,” Dean says.

“I agree,” Sam says, but he squeezes Dean’s hips, soft. “But something’s bugging you. The college thing? It’s just a kid going to college, man.”

Dean licks his lips. “I know,” he says, and he does. “Alex is smart to get your advice. You’re the expert.” He meant it to be light but it comes out--bitter, and Sam frowns. Fuck. Dean shakes his head. With how they’ve been he doesn’t want to be an asshole--they’ve been trusting each other, open, and he didn’t mean to screw it up. “I don’t mean--Sammy. It’s cool, it makes sense. I mean, you’re probably the only person who knows what she went through who also knows what they’re doing, with this kind of stuff. You’re doing a good thing.”

Sam looks up at him, eyes steady. “I know,” he says, after a minute. “But it’s got you thinking about--back then. When I left. Dean, that was--god, fifteen years ago or something.”

“I know,” Dean repeats, raw, and goes to push off Sam’s lap but Sam doesn’t let him. “Dude, give it up with the manhandling routine.”

“No,” Sam says, sitting up. He loops his arms around Dean’s waist and kinda smiles, in that Sammy way where it doesn’t so much look like a smile at all. “C’mon, man. You--seriously, do you still think about that?”

That night, in front of that busted-ass old house. Everything he’d been clinging to crashing down around his ears. Maybe not the worst night of his life anymore, but it’s still ranked. “It’s dumb,” he says, which he realizes a little too late is more revealing than maybe he wanted it to be, with how Sam’s face changes. “Sam, it’s no big deal.”

“You keep saying that,” Sam says, quiet, and one of his cheeks sucks in, like he’s gnawing at it. He keeps holding on, like Dean’s a flight risk or something, and it’s--nice, sort of. Close like this, outside of just sleeping or screwing. Sam takes a breath and Dean feels the way his chest expands. “It’s one of the best things I ever did. Going to school.”

Dean looks up at the ceiling, the slow-spinning fan.

“I got to just--live,” Sam continues. “Exploring the world, and figuring out what I liked. Meeting people who weren’t hunters and learning stuff that wasn’t just how to kill things. I mean, obviously I know now it wasn’t going to go anywhere--I was never going to be allowed to be a lawyer, or live a normal life like I thought I wanted, but. I still wouldn’t change it.”

Dean swallows, and tries to muster up how to be a man. “I get it,” he says, and--he does. This he knows how to be honest about. When he looks back down Sam’s still watching him, total focus, and he tries a smile. “You needed to get away. Grow up a little. Anyway, you and Dad were probably gonna shoot each other if you’d been cooped up together any longer.”

Sam snorts, leans back a little with his hands still locked at the small of Dean’s back. “Yeah, maybe,” he says. “So--it was important. But I don’t think I got until--way later. How much it screwed us up. That it screwed you up. That--I wish I could go back, sometimes. Fix that.”

Still watching. Sam’s whole laser-attention thing is annoying as hell, sometimes. “It was a long time ago,” he says, shrugging.

“Right,” Sam says, ironic. “That’s why you always think I’m gonna bolt the second there’s a pretty girl in a nice town, or there’s an ad for a college on TV.” Dean’s jaw clenches hard enough that his teeth kinda hurt and Sam shakes his head, but he slides his hands up Dean’s back, too, a long stroke, and lifts up to kiss the underside of his jaw, tender. “You know,” he whispers, “I’m taking an online class right now.”

Dean blinks. “What?”

“History of the Meiji Era in Japan,” Sam says. When he meets Dean’s eyes again he’s still smiling. “Undergrad elective through Michigan State. Really interesting stuff.”

“You never told me that,” Dean says. He shifts, in Sam’s lap, and does put a few more inches between them.

Sam sighs. “I know. Maybe--I don’t know. Didn’t want you to freak out. Can’t imagine why I thought that might happen.” Dean nearly shoves at his shoulder, then, and Sam catches his arm, reels him back in. “Sorry,” he says, and he actually does look kinda sorry. “I just don’t know how to convince you, man. You’re it, for me. No matter what kind of crap happens, or--whatever, how many planets fall down on our heads. It’s you and me, no matter what. A college class isn’t going to change that.”

“I know,” Dean says, and when Sam’s eyebrows crease uncertainly he shakes his head. “Dude. I really do. It’s--the same for me. You know that, right?”

“Come whatever,” Sam says, softly, and Dean dips his head then and kisses Sam first, gentle because--because they can afford that, now. With the promises they’ve made, and what those promises meant.

When he pulls back Sam looks gratifyingly pink, in the hollows of his cheeks, and Dean shrugs one shoulder. “I’m just screwed up, Sammy,” he says. “When it comes to you. Probably always will be.”

Sam smiles at him, lopsided. “Guess that comes with the territory,” he says. Dean snorts. Understatement. Sam licks his lips, looking up at him, and then--flips them, in the bed, rolling Dean underneath in a surge of show-offy muscle so that he’s propped up on his elbows, his body solid in the cradle of Dean’s body. He looks kind of smug about it, too, and Dean pinches his side and says, “show-off,” and Sam kisses him soft, doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Maybe if Alex needs her dorm room demon-proofed, we can both help,” he says, when he pulls back.

Dean tucks his hair back behind his ear, shakes his head. “We’ll teach her how to do it herself,” he says. “She’s supposed to be a college girl, right? She needs to learn.”

Sam nods. “Deal,” he says, warm, and kisses Dean again, and they move on then, to better things.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S1 Ep28: Bakura Can Still Kill Everyone If He Really Wanted To

First off--my apostrophes work again! Many thanks to the tumblr staff who helped out and will never see this post. Now I can update without looking like my computer is encrypting itself as I go.

So guys, I’m all about weird TV and weird movies. I watched the entirety of Color of Pomegranates. I just want you to know that because when I say that “wow this got weird real fast” we are going by my metrics. It’s not as weird as Color of Pomegranates, because well...it has a plot that isn’t under four layers of symbolism and esoteric Armenian poetry, but whenever we have a Bakura episode, stuff just gets UNEXPECTED.

But first, the most wonderful thing has happened:

I mean kind of a weird choice to put some of these things together, but this was about .5 seconds of screen time, I’m just special and can pause to realllllly take it in. Mm.

(Read more under the cut for EVEN MORE FOOD)

Man!

MAN!

What did I do to deserve all this good anime food in the same episode as Bakura doing something completely nuts (again)?

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and we have to go back to cards, which for some reason is still the crux of this show...I think. This is still a show about cards, right? I’m no longer completely sure.

At the start of the season, Yugi was gifted these two cards as entrance tickets to the Island of Regret where they are now hanging out. These cards are how you collect your prizes if you win. The one with money is the prize of 3 million (or is it 300 million? It’s been a while since I’ve heard the number). The blank one is the chance to beat Pegasus. I assume your soul will go in the blank one after he beats you.

Youknow, it’s really a shame we never got to see the stats on Grandpa, Mokuba, and Seto cards. I don’t think they even had any. I mean, when Bakura turned his friends into cards, at least they had stats.

Anyways, some of our contestants have suddenly remembered that they actually have no right to this contest.

But, turns out Pegasus also has an interest in anime food, so he’s done something a little extra for...some reason.

DEAR LORD. I mean it’s not a real eyeball but think about the eye grease for a moment. Firstly, I don’t even know if you have to grease up a false eyeball and I want to look it up but I am too afraid. Secondly, now my mind is thinking of every unctuous substance that may or may not grease up a false eyeball. It does not pair well with pumpkin soup.

There’s eyeballs...in the soup...

This is when you go home. This is when you say “sorry Gramps, but...I am pretty sure that guy is a cannibal, I gotta goooooo.”

I mean, again, it’s not a real eyeball but freakin A are they having a weird halloween dinner party? Why would you do this? Why would you EVER put your own eyeball facsimiles in the soup? Is it like “eat my ass” but “eat my eyes” ?

Pegasus doesn’t get many guests and I can start to see why Kaiba hated him so damn much. Can you imagine working with this guy on a daily basis as the head of a large corporation while constantly getting pranked with his weird ass eyeballs?

Does it say “I open at the close?”

Why did they do -- what?!

This was all about a stupid bracket? What the hell, Yugioh?

The boys decide to throw caution to the wind about what may or may not be in this bizarre dinner that not even Pegasus wants to eat and they fully gorge themselves and get a real good food baby belly going.

I guess Yugi didn’t really eat because he is fully alert and his empty beacon eyes are still one of the most spooky things on this show.

Yugi decides to hand off his card to Joey right in the view of Bandit Keith, and Joey only takes it when Yugi convinces him that now they’d have twice the chance to beat Pegasus. I mean, not really, actually, but it was still a nice thing to say. Yugi is a kid of sooo many good intentions.

Mai goes to bed and says this actual line from the show.

Despite the fact that she’s so acidic about...eh...75% of the time, she really is the nicest person they have met on this horrible, terrible island. In fact, everyone is ready to tuck in to the most clearly haunted murder castle as if eyeballs weren’t just hanging out in their soup. What a bizarre heartwarming round of goodnights, as if there wasn’t clearly several people out to very much kill them living in the same castle as them.

This is how Agatha Christie novels start.

This episode does not actually dive into Joey’s gigantic donut dream, which is a shame.

Because this episode, it’s time for our B-team to shine.

I love the implication here that Tristan first knocked on Bakura’s door, woke him up with this and then Bakura clearly answered along the lines of “Bollucks, Tristan, I am not doing this right now” to which, Brakura dragged him down to Tea’s door in the hope that Tea would be at all reasonable.

Which backfired him in a major way because Tea and Tristan are desperate to chase some snipes and prove themselves useful.

I honestly can’t tell if Bakura even likes these guys. I mean, I get that they’re school friends but, this guy was introduced as totally murdering them and then getting magically “cured” with the same cure that failed on Seto Kaiba. The fact that this meek little fake-british accent can get so easily snowplowed by Tea and Tristan is never clearly just an act or just him getting snowplowed.

But, apparently there’s some part of him that is still that tiny little nice-side-of-Bakura, so dutifully, he decides to babysit, since the only other psychic they got around is currently having an eyeball-soup induced dream.

Back at the dueling arena, Tea decides to stand guard/do nothing as usual.

Tristan reveals why he has a grudge against Psychics.

Tristan’s character is pretty flat. It basically revolves around mothering everyone elses problems and pining about Serenity who is barely a character on this show. I always figured that Tristan was at least smarter than Joey and Yugi, who can be kind of...dumb, but it turns out Tristan is just as empty between the ears.

He gets completely fascinated by a beam of light shining through a window. Forget looking for cameras. Forget the fact that this room was full of Pegasus’ mooks, some of which were standing right behind Kaiba. Na. He’s gonna Sherlock Holmes straight to this window.

During Bakura’s desperate pleas to get these two assholes back to bed, Yugi is getting some crazy as hell conspiracy theories from Grandpa.

Oh, so he’s like a normal grandpa then? Once my Grandma told me that the entirety of San Fransisco would fall into the ocean during an Earthquake and she was EXTREMELY concerned about my safety (despite the fact I live inland, not in San Fransisco), so this dream Yugi’s having sounds like a pretty average dinner conversation with your Grandparents.

No one expects Bakura, not even the colorist.

And then for some reason they want Tea to go first in their climb up the tower although no reasonable girl in a mini skirt would do this in front of two boys.

Isn’t she a freakin dancer? Maybe she’s not as strong as Tristan but she’s certainly the best balanced of the two and could climb way easier because she’s lighter. And Bakura is clearly the weakest but, whatever.

Back in dreamland, Yugi’s grandpa join’s up with the other cards in card hell as if they’re some sort of Grandfather, asshole son, and ghost child card hell trinity

Oh yeah, I nearly forgot I was watching an anime for a second. Nothing like devilish blue fire to make you remember oh yeah, that’s a fine anime fire choice.

But rather than dwell too much on that artistic direction of blue fire, lets see if anything at all was inside of the red herring tower.

They’ve been slipping a picture of this chick all over the place. I’m surprised it took until now, when she’s like 15 feet tall, for them to finally notice “Hey maybe there’s something up with this random chick who is clearly a dead person Pegasus was close to”

Now I gotta get a little art nerdy on you for a moment because this storyboarder is really good at sneaking in people’s reactions right near the focal point without making them the focal point. This whole framing of Bakura’s tired face happens so quickly and I just want to spend a little moment for us to appreciate our storyboarder’s sense of humor.

Now, somehow. SOMEHOW things are going to get weirder.

Because with all this dream sequence stuff happening this looks like it’s a dream but I’m going to come out and say no, this is actually happening. They have, indeed, fallen into some tomb under the castle covered in Egyptian murals and people are chanting about sacrificing souls as offerings.

This happens SO QUICKLY.

THE HELL????

Like remember when I was like “How did all these skeletons get here? what’s up with these skeletons?” I didn’t actually really want them to tie up those loose ends but here we are.

So this has been going on this entire time!? For the past 28 episodes? When Kaiba was like “man Pegasus is the worst!” He didn’t feel like bringing up the crazy killer cult that was living under the island?

And to top it off, Bakura already knows what’s going down. He knows and is quickly getting more and more urgent to get away.

Oh, and PS, The cards we’ve been using these past 28 episodes are now giant stone tablets. Bakura mentioned once that the millennium ring was supposed to work alongside Duel Monsters. And he was like “but duel monsters is like ten years old so whatever” but it turns out that was a complete lie because there’s an ancient version that uses 10 foot tall tablets instead of cards. Their decks would be like 6000 lbs.

Also you die at the end of Ancient Duel Monsters, that part is different, too.

I have so many questions.

I mean you find out when you’re a kid that Ring around the rosies was actually about people dying of the plague and go “eh that’s sad” but it’s nothing like Ring around the Rosies killed people and made serial murderers into magical evil psychics.

I mean it’s never actually said, but there’s enough evidence here that I’d like to think Yugi was sleep running all over the castle during half this episode saying “grandpaaaazzzs” while Bandit Keith was like “OMG are any of them going to go to bed so I can finally steal their stuff?”

But back to the stuff that is actually not a dream and definitely happening. Pegasus pulls back his hood and decides to give them a quick Q and A before he outright kills them.

And so, Bakura, who has been playing dumb for...I dunno, 10+ episodes, who has been doing nothing spectacular and who has been clumsy and sort of a space cadet finally reveals that “yeah, that mind wipe did literally nothing, I’m a still an evil son of a bitch”

And they have a...shine off. Or something. It’s very hard to look directly at.

Thing is, from what we’ve learned, Pegasus is super duper powerful because he’s been killing people under here for many, many years. Every time he does a murder, his power grows. Which means...Bakura should be at a loss since he’s like 12 and...how many people can a 12 year old really murder?

Says a lot about your relationship if you can’t take 2 steps forward without getting Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind-ed 4 steps right back where you started.

Welp that’s it, guys! that’s Season 1! Bakura did it! He beat Pegasus! Why Bakura decided to retcon the REAL ending of Season 1 and just put everyone (including the villain) back as if it never happened is a little weird, but hey--at least I got through it. I did it. I recapped all of Yugioh Season 1. I’m proud of me!

Bakura will go back to playing dumb probably for another 10-15 episodes until he can steal that eyeball off of Pegasus. Apparently there wasn’t a good enough opportunity for eyeball theft when he was doing the weird laser show thing.

I assume somewhere, Pegasus is also sitting on his bed in his day clothes and thinking “the hell just happened?” but rather than look at one of his zillions of security cameras is like “well, that’s psychics!”

I’d like to think that Bandit Keith saw Bakura dragging Tea and Tristan’s bodies down the hall and they just nodded at eachother like “crazy evening, amiright?”

Also, a lot of this episode would have been different if any of these people locked their own doors. Like this, for instance, wouldn’t have been able to happen.

Then five minutes later the sun rose.

I mean it’s the only explanation for all the nuts stuff that went down last night.

Next week, on Yugioh:

Will Pegasus have a splitting headache for all of tomorrow and be wearing sunglasses the whole time? Will Pharaoh reveal that in his time off he got really into All My Children? Will they seriously go the third day without washing their clothes? These kids must SMELL.

The hell just HAPPENED?

[whatsanalec]

Weeks 9&10

It’s been hectic and stressful to say the least, and a lot happened.

Firstly, concerning the “ ‘ “ idea: I made a portotype for each version (window and crowd). However, the only one I went forward with was the window one, because I feel like it’s more striking and intriguing as an image and concept, and because the crowd idea (seeing image) - although it took a while to draw - turned out to appear a lot more creepy than I imagined because of the eyes. Although I should have seen that coming, come to think of it.

For the Window prototype (first image) I used leftover painted card from last year for the background. For the end product it needs to be bright colour that communicates the feeling of desire.

For both prototypes, I used a photo of myself for the silhouette (which I had to photoshop because my jaw was still very swollen from getting my wisdom tooth removed at the time). This is my way of putting myself in the work, semi-literally. Since this concept is half-inspired by personal experience, it just makes sense for me.

Having decided to go ahead with the window idea, I set to work to get it done. I used another image for the background figure to avoid the same pixelation issue I had with the prototype.

This piece, initially inspired by the Imagine Dragons lyric, “I’m an apostrophe, I’m just a symbol to remind you that there’s more to see,” put you in the perspective of a person who, despite having someone directly in front of and facing them, decides to look through them and onto who’s behind. That person, however, is visually content without knowing or acknowledging you. And yet, you keep looking.

The top layer being plain white serves the purpose of blending into a white wall and emphasising the idea that you are looking straight through someone who is obviously right in front of you. Behind that, the black layer is to create stark contrast and amplify the white’s cutout, but invite you further into the centre of the piece.

The much more intricate application of the crimson and scarlet colours beneath are to communicate the feeling of desire and interest that you feel towards the figure in the back, who is maticulously detailed in contrast to the silhouette in front. This is to convey the idea that you, who is looking through someone that you see no detain in, look past them and onto someone whose body intrigues you so much more. The piece is sized so that the silhouette is life sized in order to make the concept more real to the viewer.

In other news, remember that floating MDF idea I had? Yeah I did that. This was very unlike anything I’ve done before and was very stressful because I was working on this and ‘ at the same time for over a week.

This started with me stealing (with permission) - bunch of lasercut rectangles from the digital making space, and the idea of “strangers,” which I came up with after a conversation with my friend about my social anxiety. After a slow back and forth with Ronnie about how to suspend them, I painted them all white on both sides and we constructed the... thing.

As I mentioned before, my first thought was to create some kind of crosshatch design - either out of assembled wood or lasercut MDF - and attach it to my studio board so that the pieces could be hung in seemingly random places, because that’s what I wanted. What Ronnie thought of was similar. We screwed a couple long, thin pieces of wood coming off the top of my studio board and I was left to play with it.

We were going to do the same thing with another piece of wood and then attach some pieces across the ones already there, parallel to the wall, but after some experimentation with hanging the MDF I realised that it would be much better if the wood parallel to the wall was completely movable. That way, I could move and swap them about freely to get what I want without the hassle of untying the thread and tying it back on in a different spot. And if I wanted to change the position of a single MDF piece, I could shimmy it over thanks to the slack on the knots, or I could loop the thread around the wood to make the MDF higher. Foolproof.

But this contraption isn’t the whole thing. To communicate the aforementioned idea of anxiety, I had the idea of projecting a video of an eye looking around restlessly, with audio of panicked breathing. Luckily, I have three things that made this possible on short notice: a phone capable of filming in 4K, a clip-on macro lens for said phone, and a willing friend.

My idea for this video was to make it very eerie and anxiety inducing. So when it came to editing it, I used Davinci Resolve to desaturate the colours and lower the temperature to make it seem cold and absolutely not uplifting. I then took it into Premiere Pro. There, I made an identical video track but reversed it and lowered the opacity to 33% so it looks like two eyes of the danger owner moving independently.

For the audio, I added a recording of my heavy breathing and upped the gain to make it loud but not deafeningly so. I also added a slowed down version of it for a creepy bass layer, and I also added a track of room time but made it louder to amplify the feeling of something being off.

So, I got a projector and a plinth, and it turned out pretty great. Without further ado:

Strangers is an installation with the purpose of portraying my experience with social anxiety and difficulty communicating with proper I don’t know well or aren’t comfortable around.

The projected video aims to induce the feelings of anxiety and panic, which are communicated through many aspects: i.e. the lack of vibrance, overlap of visuals and collection of audio. The use of colour gives anything but a feeling of happiness and makes the viewer feel on edge just by that alone. The overlap of video shows constant rapid movement, and along with the sound of panicked breathing, plus the sounds beneath that, the feeling of being overwhelmed is emphasised so much more.

The MDF pieces are suspended by transparent fishing wire to give the impression that they are floating. They are positioned in a way that appears random and they take up all three axes. These shapes represent uncertainty and/or people, and their positioning gives the idea that there is no escape from threes feelings of anxiety - you’re surrounded by them. They’re everywhere. These objects onstruct the projection and leave holes in it, furthering the relationship between the two elements of the installation and bringing the video forwards into the third dimension.

To see the video, click here: https://youtu.be/tAJWmACRYbY

Moving Image module

Editing this thing together was an experience but less tedious than I expected. I used Davinci Teeolve for the first time to colour correct and whatnot. It was a slow process because my laptop isn’t great but I got there. I tried to make it look like there was more sun, to give a warm feeling and emphasise the light-heartedness, but some locations are visually overcast so it was kind of difficult to make them seem sunnier while being realistic. In some cases I ended up just being able to boost the colour which will have to suffice.

When it came to making all the cuts in Premiere, I divided a method for including all the locations without the film being a confusing mess: start with 3 locations and cut between them. 3 minutes in, take one out and introduce a new one in the former’s place. Repeat until all locations are introduced. I had to write this down in a way that visually represented it in a simple way my feeble little brain could understand:

This method was derived from Creature Comforts, which did near the same thing. The difference being that they had many more settings to cut between. After I developed the method, it was a matter of singling out the moray interesting parts/monuments with potential for the voiceover, and cutting them together. It came to about 11.5 minutes, which is respectable in my opinion, as long as we can keep the energy up during recording.

Speaking of which, I think the recording went well. We started with the traffic/weather track which was going well, considering we hadn’t had any practice, until Nathan forgot we weren’t doing voices yet. He realised after that track and we gained confidence through recording the others.

Being one take and in time with the video track, the audio was easy to implement. At first I lowered the sfx and ambiance tracks to give the speech one more prominence, but Nathan advised I boost all of them. This was alright, just meant I had to adjust the volume of some parts. Also, I only ended up using the direction track once, where the speech track peaked badly. If we did this again, I’d definitely speak more clearly during recording and be more cautious about packing the mic. But of course we couldn’t do a second take, because that would go against the whole point of doing a single take.

And that’s it done. I definitely believe we could have achieved something much more impressive if we went with my initial idea or something similar. But nevertheless, this was a fun process, especially the recording. At least I learned new software and hot more experience with editing. Link to the film: https://youtu.be/BoH4mZsXRac

Now all that’s left is assessment. Please have mercy.

[tech-battery]

ThinkPad X1 Fold review: Lenovo's foldable PC is nowhere near ready

Lenovo is no stranger to making weird things. In 2016, the company gave us the first dual-screen hybrid with the Yoga Book that was part color tablet, part e-ink touchscreen keyboard / drawing pad. It followed that up with a second-generation in 2018, but also gave us things like tablets with fold-out kickstands and laptops with speakers built into the hinge or an e-ink screen on the lid. Not to mention that Lenovo pioneered the 360-degree hinge system and was the first to announce a 5G laptop with Qualcomm in 2019.

So it shouldn’t be surprising that the company is the first to deliver a foldable tablet PC that you can actually buy. We saw a prototype of the ThinkPad X1 Fold last year and got all the specs at CES 2020, and now it’s finally hitting shelves for $2,600 to start. For that price, you’re not just getting a large foldable phone. In addition to the fact that it runs Windows, the 13.3-inch X1 Fold also acts as a mini laptop when it’s folded halfway and you add Lenovo’s companion keyboard. If it was well-executed, Lenovo’s first foldable PC could have been better than a regular laptop, and not simply jumping on a hot trend. The problem with the X1 Fold, though, is that the execution needs work.

Summary

The ThinkPad X1 Fold is an impressive piece of technology that sorely needs better execution. It’s laudable that Lenovo was able to make a 13.3-inch OLED tablet that can bend, but on its own the $2,600 Fold is a seriously expensive Windows tablet. Throw in the $230 keyboard that fits neatly between the screen’s two halves for a faux laptop mode and you get a neat mini machine that’s only good for quick emails and tweets. But few, if any, people should spend nearly $3,000 to buy the X1 Fold when any Surface tablet would serve you far better.

Like the Surface Duo I reviewed earlier this year, the X1 Fold is a unique device. Yes, it's a big foldable and we've seen and tested a few foldable phones by now so the technology doesn't feel quite as novel. But Lenovo's device is the first that's this large and runs Windows, making it basically a foldable Surface tablet. Because of its flexible screen and sturdy hinge, the X1 Fold can be used in a number of orientations similar to the Surface Duo and the Galaxy Z Fold 2, like book or laptop. But because the hinge only opens to 180 degrees, you won't be able to rotate it all the way over into a tent mode.

As a tablet or book

For the $2,600 starting price, you'll only get the X1 Fold itself without a keyboard or stylus, meaning you’ll largely be using it as a tablet or "book". It's a serviceable device and is surprisingly well made. I like the leather cover that not only makes this feel like a real (if hefty) notebook, but also adds a touch of class. On the top bezel sits a 5-megapixel webcam, while power and volume buttons line the right edge. There's also a pair of USB-C ports, one on the left side and the other on the bottom.

With a 13.3-inch screen the Fold is quite large for a tablet, and it certainly feels chunkier than the iPad Pro or Samsung's Galaxy Tab S7+. It weighs 2.2 pounds and has a 11.5mm profile, and when folded it's about 24mm thick. All that heft makes this difficult to maneuver with one hand, and I struggled to open the Fold while holding a camera with my other hand.

When you close the X1 Fold, it magnetically snaps shut and there's a tiny gap near the hinge. That comes in handy when you need some leverage to pry the device open, because the magnets holding it together are quite strong. Once you get the screen moving though, the hinge springs open. It starts getting more resistant when you push it beyond a 25 degree angle and you can bend the screen so it's half closed and stays that way.

In this orientation, you can hold the X1 Fold as if it were a book and run two apps side by side to drag and drop between them or just to keep an eye on Twitter while watching YouTube. Or you could also set the Fold up on the kickstand built into its leather case and have a second screen or just to watch Netflix on. The 2K OLED screen here is bright and colorful, and although there is a small crease in the middle, it’s not very obvious… when the screen is flat at least. When the display is bent though, the dent in the middle is significantly brighter than the rest of the panel, and makes viewing anything full screen a bit jarring.

My main frustration with using the Fold as a tablet is that Windows is still an atrocious touch-based operating system. We’ve known this for a long time -- Microsoft’s many public embarrassments with mobile versions of Windows have proven this point time and time again.

Honestly, it was downright infuriating to use Tablet Mode on the X1 Fold, especially when I just wanted to go back to the desktop to find a file I saved. Trying to drag and drop windows didn’t behave the way I expected it to, not to mention Microsoft’s app store is pitifully bare compared to Apple and Google’s options. There still isn’t an official Kindle app, for example.

Obviously book mode is best for reading (or it would be if there was a real Kindle app). But it’s also pretty good for writing and taking notes. Lenovo’s $100 pen is responsive and smooth, though I prefer Microsoft or Samsung’s options.

To its credit, Lenovo tried to make it easier to use the Fold in Book mode by adding its own mode-switching software. By tapping an icon in the system indicator tray, you can quickly expand an app to take up the whole screen or snap two apps side by side. This did make it easier to launch, say, YouTube and Twitter next to each other, but aside from a few very niche scenarios I struggled to find a reason to actually use book mode.

As a mini laptop

Throw in Lenovo’s $230 companion keyboard, though, and the X1 Fold presents a far more compelling case (if you forget about the price). Of course, you can use your own keyboard, but the company’s version not only fits perfectly in the gap between the two halves of the screen and magnetically stays in place, but also charges wirelessly when it’s stowed in the closed tablet.

With this setup, you get a cute little mini laptop with a 7-inch-ish screen that’s perfect for getting work done when you’re in a tight space. The buttons on this understandably small keyboard offer an impressive amount of travel and space, all things considered.

But tradeoffs had to be made to squeeze all those keys onto something this small, so some buttons like the dash and equal signs at the end of the row of number keys had to be sacrificed. It also had to move the apostrophe from where it normally is next to the Enter key to slightly higher and farther to the right, between the Backspace and Enter instead. These changes took a bit of adjusting to and made typing a little awkward. It’s fine for a quick email or tweet, but I wouldn’t want to type on this for hours.

I do appreciate that Lenovo included a trackpad on the keyboard, even if it is pretty small at 3 inches wide and 1.5 inches tall. While it isn’t the most responsive touchpad around, I was thankful for a way to use the cursor on Windows, as well as multi-finger gestures like swiping to switch between apps. Surprisingly, I never felt like it was too cramped.

Otherwise using the X1 Fold as a mini laptop was… fine. Because you’re reduced to using a 7-inch screen in this mode, you can only get about three app icons on the taskbar at once unless you reduce the OS’s font and icon size. Doing that on a screen this small makes any text quite hard to read. And don’t even think about running two windows side by side -- they’ll barely fit or be so small that you’ll need to scroll forever to see everything.

Performance and battery life

The X1 Fold uses an Intel Lakefield Core i5 processor with Intel’s “Hybrid technology,” which the chip maker says is “engineered for mobile performance.” It uses architecture similar to ARM’s big.Little design, relegating less demanding tasks to lower-power Atom cores and tapping bigger cores for tougher processes. In general, the Fold kept up with my needs, and the few hiccups I came across seemed more to do with glitchy software than a slow processor. For example, sometimes Lenovo’s mode switching tool wouldn’t work, and instead of letting me choose the window I wanted open on either half of the display, it would just show two random apps I had open. Switching between landscape and portrait modes would bring up all the windows I had open, for example, and I often had to wait for webpages to expand and fill the whole screen when I maximized them.

These were mostly issues that had to do with switching between modes -- when I stayed in either tablet or laptop orientations, the device generally kept pace. Granted, I didn’t do anything too demanding like editing video, but for most of my day to day workflow the machine held up.

On our video rundown test, the X1 Fold clocked an impressive 13 hours and 30 minutes, which beats the Galaxy Tab S7+, the Surface Pro 7 and the iPad Pro 12.9. In real-world use, it generally lasts all day in tablet mode, though I found that using the keyboard seemed to drain the battery a bit more quickly. There’s also the option of getting a 5G-capable model of the X1 Fold, by the way, which I expect will sap energy even more.

Wrap-up

I’m having a hard time recommending anyone buy the X1 Fold. I don’t want to diminish Lenovo’s achievement here -- it’s impressive that the company managed to make a foldable PC that it’s ready to roll out to the public. But as is the case with many first-gen products, the X1 Fold is an expensive experiment. If you buy this, know that you’re basically paying to be a beta tester. There are plenty of quirks to work out. While I’m excited to see companies innovate, the ThinkPad X1 Fold’s exorbitant price and lack of real benefits keep me from endorsing it. If you need a laptop-tablet hybrid that runs Windows and can fit in tight spaces, the Surface Pro 7 or the Surface Go 2 are much more reasonably priced and offer better productivity.

[zckdcode]

JIS-CTF Walkthrough

Having not posted on here in a very, very long time, I’m back to solve a CTF. Earlier this year I finished my Computer Science degree at the University of Bristol, and I’ve got a new job working in cyber security at a very large and influential multinational technology company.

I’ve been playing around with the Offensive-Security labs, which are basically a set of on-demand virtual machines set up for CTFs. Offensive-Security are also the owners of some industry leading security certifications such as OSCP - which I aim to begin in the near future.

The particular CTF we will be looking at today is JIS-CTF by Mohammad Khreesha. Note that we will be using the version on Offensive-Security, which has less flags than the version on VulnHub. The difficulty is not affected by this since you need to do the same steps to get the flags anyway.

The CTF

After connecting to the VPN and being given the IP address of the machine, the first thing we can do is see what ports are open by using an nmap scan.

nmap -p- 192.168.203.25 insert result output here

Ok so now we can see that ports 23 and 80 are open. Lets explore what’s going on with HTTP on port 80 first by opening it up with our browser of choice.

Hmm… a login page, but we don’t have any credentials. I tried looking at the source code for the page, but nothing valuable was to be found. I also tried throwing some funky characters like semicolons, hashes, apostrophes, and pipes into the login form to see if any errors would pop up, indicating the possibility of SQL injection but unfortunately we had no such luck.

The next thing we can try is looking at what other pages and paths are available on the site. One way of doing this would be by using a tool such as DIRB - which enumerates through a dictionary of common URL paths. DIRB is very noisy and takes a while, and should be used a last resort. Instead, we could first take a look at /robots.txt. This file is used by websites to instruct search engines & web crawlers as to which pages to not visit or include on their searches. Unlike using DIRB, checking /robots.txt is unlikely to be noticed or considered malign behaviour since search engines check /robots.txt frequently. The contents of /robots.txt can be seen below.

User-agent: * Disallow: / Disallow: /backup Disallow: /admin Disallow: /admin_area Disallow: /r00t Disallow: /uploads Disallow: /uploaded_files Disallow: /flag

This looks promising! After checking them all out we find that either the pages are innaccessible, or seem to be red herrings. We can dive in a bit deeper and look at the source code for the pages and voila! In the source code for /admin_area we found the credentials:

username : admin password : 3v1l_H@ck3r

Nice! Next I was cheeky and tried to see if we could login to the system via SSH with the newfound credentials but no luck. Fortunately though, they did work for the login form on the home page of the website!

After logging in, we are taken to a new page in which we can upload files to the server. If only there was some way of getting the system to run the files we could get a reverse shell going…

To test something out, I uploaded a random image file (image.jpg) and then navigated to /uploaded_files/image.jpg and it serves me the image! This is bad news for the server but good news for us. Since Apache is configured to execute .php files with the PHP interpreter, we can get the system to execute PHP scripts for us by uploading a file e.g. phpscript.php and then navigating to /uploaded_files/phpscript.php.

Naturally, a reverse shell script is what we want. I used this PHP reverse shell script from Pentest Monkey. You need to go into the script and change the IP address to your own IP address (note that it will be your address on the VPN, not your public internet IP address), and change the port to a free port on your machine (I used 9998).

Next, we need to set our computer to listen on the above port, ready to give commands to the reverse shell. I used Netcat, but you could also set up Python to do something similar. Change 9998 to whatever port you are using.

nc -nlvp 9998

Upload the PHP reverse shell script we fixed earlier, and then navigate to /uploaded_files/php-reverse-shell.php. Success! Your netcat terminal should let you know that you’ve made the desired connection.

Now that we’re in we can have a nosy around. First off, by entering whoami we see that we’re running as www-data - which is the default user for users on web users, and typically has a low level of priviledge. By looking at some of the files and folders in the immediate directory, we can see that we do not have access to many of them (flag, flag.txt). Looking in hint.txt tells that we should look for the credentials to log in to the user ‘technawi’.

After looking around with ls -a (ls lists files and -a includes hidden files) in the current directory as well as some other common places like /, it was clear that we’d need to perform a deeper search. There are two obvious tools for this, Grep and Find.

Grep searches for strings contained within files, whereas Find only searches by file name. I opted to use Grep with the following command:

grep -ir password / 2>/dev/null

(the 2>/dev/null part is not essential - it essentially gets rid those pesky errors you get you try to access files and directories that you don’t have access to)

Looking through the results, we find a file containing the string 'password’ /etc/mysql/conf.d/credentials.txt. Taking a look using cat tells us that the flag is in another file, but gives us the password for that 'technawi’ account we were looking for.

cat /etc/mysql/conf.d/credentials.txt Your flag is in another file... username : technawi password : 3vilH@ksor

Now we currently dont have a proper terminal, but we could try to spawn one… but a much easier way would just be to SSH in using those new credentials! So lets Ctrl+C out of this shell and SSH in.

ssh technawi@192.168.203.25

There’s a file here called local.txt - which if we cat it gives us one of the flags!

The instructions for the CTF said that we were looking for a file called 'proof.txt’. Performing a search using Find:

find / -name proof.txt

But we get no results. Perhaps again it could be a permissions problem, if so then perhaps only the root user has access. If we prefix the above command with sudo it will search as if we are the root user.

sudo find / -name proof.txt /root/proof.txt

And if we cat out the file we just found, we get the last flag!

Fixes

Don’t allow uploading files to uncontrolled areas

Mediate access to uploaded files

Require a key for SSH

[dandelionpie]

The Fall Out Boy Album Review No One Asked For

That’s right kids - none of you wanted this, but tough titties! Here’s a list of all the Fall Out Boy albums I’ve listened to so far today, with grades and commentary. You may not like the band, but if you’ve ever wanted the cliff notes version of my worldview (at least as I relate to Bad Feelings), read on.

American Beauty/American Psycho

Overview

This was the only thing I could listen to for like two weeks after the 2016 election. Seriously - I was staying with my parents for Thanksgiving and all I could consume was this, Brooklyn 99, and ice cream. I would take this album running with me and turn it up loud enough to drown out the existential dread. It still gives me the kind of weird nostalgia that comes from remembering bad times I don’t want to repeat.

Track Notes

I like the Demi Lovato version of “Irresistible” better - not sure why that one’s not on the album. “You know I gave my love a 4-letter name” probably ISN’T a reference to the Tetragrammaton, but I like to pretend it is anyway, just for fun.

Not sure why they sampled “Tom’s Diner” for “Centuries,” but I’m INTO it!?! The only problem is it’s hard to be a person who likes both songs, because all the top comments on the YouTube video of the Suzanne Vega version are “lol Fall Out Boy is so stupid” and I get sad

“Fourth of July” bears the distinction of being one of the Songs That Would Have Been a Break-Up Song for Me Had I Not Been More Careful, and Gd Willing it stays on that list.

Why is there an apostrophe in “Twin Skeleton’s”? There is no good reason for that to be there. Come on guys. You had multiple eyes on this project.

Fave Track: Probably “The Kids Aren’t Alright” - they spelled Alright how I don’t like it spelled, but the lyrics are just so damn #relatable

Rating: 10/10

From Under the Cork Tree

Now, as we all know, Fall Out Boy is a pop/punk band, and a fairly melodic one at that. But in early albums they’re still finding that voice and still doing a little bit of the screamy “we’re-not-sure-what-genre-this-is-so-let’s-call-it-alternative” thing that if you ask me got a little too popular in the 2000s. But I like this record for old time’s sake as well as its own sake. It was the first Fall Out Boy album I ever listened to carefully, and probably the reason why I ever decided to check out their new stuff.

Track Notes

“Our Lawyer Made Us Change the Name of This Song So We Wouldn’t Get Sued” was def my fave as a kid, but Idk how much that has to do with the title being a shade too clever. But! She uses the instrumental bits as her final gym routine in the movie Step Up! So THAT’s nice.

“Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying” is a track I’ve ALWAYS had to skip because it’s too angsty even for me, which is saying something

Fave Track: “Seven Minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen)” reminds me of me when I was an anxiety-wrecked college sophomore who couldn’t be left alone with her thoughts without risking Bad Things, so that’s the one.

Rating: 8/10

Folie a Deux

An underrated older work. Does that cool thing where all the songs flow into each other. They’re still doing that silly thing with the titles completely unrelated to the lyrics, but tbh I think it’s kind of cute.

Track Notes

“What a Catch Donnie” samples a bunch of their other songs, as if to say, “oh, you thought they all sounded the same? Yeah, we noticed.” And I like the sass, boys. I like it.

Fave track: “Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes” - my medical history has left me a sucker for a good hospital metaphor.

Rating: 8/10

Save Rock and Roll

Lots of cool collabs on this album. Elton John’s in it, you guys! IMHO this is where they start to get truly poetic - it was after the Fall Out Boy renaissance (yes, there was a Fall Out Boy Renaissance; read a book) and they’ve pretty thoroughly found their voice at this point.

(I don’t have any particular Track Notes right now but maybe I will add some in later)

Fave Track: “Save Rock and Roll” (love the contrast between their and Elton’s vocals, love the lyrics, love the tune)

Rating: 9/10

MANIA

I haven’t actually listened to this one yet. I know there are tracks on it I like, but I haven’t gotten a great sense of the album as a whole yet. So the jury’s still out on whether I think it’s *good* or not. Overall it’s not hitting me as hard as their last one did, but that one took me some time to get into as well.

Track Notes

“Stay Frosty Royal Milk Tea” is SUCH A GREAT TITLE

What frustrates me about “Hold Me Tight or Don’t” is that it comes SO CLOSE to being a very good track. I love the lyrics. I love the tune. Idk if they were auto tuning Patrick Stump for a while and then stopped, but the vocals are SO FLAT. Honestly the first time I heard it I was like “gee, I hope someone comes out with a good cover of this soon.”

“The Last of the Real Ones” is kinda fun. “I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me” - dude, if you gotta ask then the answer’s probably yes. Again - the bridge is FLAT and it makes me SAD.

“Wilson (Expensive Mistakes)” is a contender for second fave right now. I mean, “I’ll stop wearing black when they make a darker color” - that sounds SO stupid why does it work SO well.

“Church” feels a little like it’s trying to jump on the Hozier train, but it’s got its own stuff going on too. “I love the world but I just don’t love the way it makes me feel” - hard same, my dude.

Fave Track: “Champion” was a huge inspiration to me for a story I’m in the very early stages of writing, so I’m gonna go with that one.

Rating: ?/10 - I gotta give it a few more listens, but I’ll let you all know. I’m sure you’re waiting with bated breath.

[platinumjeon]

Ankle Biter | 02

pairing: taehyung x reader - single dad! au

warnings/genre: major fluff, major angst, smut eventually I’m sure because of my thirsty ass

summary: You swear that your job sucks, except for the guy who keeps coming in every morning to order himself a black coffee, and his kid a strawberry milk and chocolate muffin. When you and Taehyung have an awkward run-in at the cafe thanks to his kid, feelings start to emerge and so do the secrets.

words: 5.8k

playlist | 01 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | epilogue  

moodboards: before & after

warning for this chapter: dirty, filthy sin I’m so sorry it’s @memecook‘s fault, she told me to just keep sinning so I did

“Y/N.”

You looked up, eyebrows pulled together as you concentrated on trying to get a drop of espresso out of this damn machine before you threw it in the garbage; one last measly attempt to save yourself $200 because you knew Bea would just take it out of your paycheck anyway.

Taehyung stood there, and for the second day in a row without Taeji. He must’ve noticed your immediate confusion, his eyes looking down at his side themselves and stuttering out, “O-oh, he’s with his grandparents for the weekend.” You only nodded at his answer, looking back down at the broken machine.

You begin, “Look, Taehyung, I’m-” at the same time Taehyung says, “Can I ask you something?” The two of you stare at each other for a minute, before smiles replace the frowns on your faces. 

“Let me clean up, I’ll be out in a second.” You smile, heat rising to your cheeks as you turn away and wipe your hands on your white apron. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer, Y/N,” a voice says, and you look to the side of the kitchen to see Bea and Seol standing by the ovens. They had obviously witnessed your little encounter with Taehyung just now, little smirks playing on their faces and curiosity in their waiting eyes. 

Scoffing, you ignore their words and untie your apron to hang it up on the wall. Admirer? You had one of those in the 4th grade. What did he want to ask you? Your head was spinning with questions as you walked down the hallway to meet Taehyung at the register. When you finally rounded the corner, you saw the grimace on his face quickly change to one of a newfound happiness, a boxy grin engraving itself into his face.

He looked adorable in that moment - almost child-like, a big version of Taeji, with the same boxy smile and bright eyes that looked excited for the future. You wonder what he could possibly mean to ask you, and that’s when you realized he hadn’t ordered anything. Did he come here for me? You thought as you greeted him.

“Hi. Do you want to take a walk?” You asked with a shaky voice, ready to launch into an apology for Jackson’s curt behavior the day before. After you had left the restaurant, your best friend had left you a slew of messages and voicemails apologizing for making you read what you did. You were concerned at first: the article keeping you up all night thinking that the words you read might taint your view of Taehyung when you first saw him again - if you saw him, after that whole thing at the restaurant went down. It took all you had to not reach over and snatch the phone off your nightstand and google Kim Taehyung scandal, to find out exactly what this beautiful man had done to make the whole of Korea to criticize his parenting skills.

Beautiful man? What were you thinking, exactly?

You shook the thoughts from your head as you walked in front of Taehyung, who rushed to the door to hold it open for you. Smiling, you slow down and walk next to him, your lips opening and closing trying to form words but Taehyung beats you to it.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard..” He begins, his face overridden with nervousness. His tongue darts out to cover his lips with a sheen of saliva, and you wonder if he knows what Jackson did after he rushed out of the restaurant the day before. You almost want to blurt it out, get the guilt over with and say that you have heard, or rather seen, some things. But Taehyung begins to talk before you have the chance to ruin whatever you had with him.

“I just want you to know that it was a long time ago-”

“What was a long time ago?” Darn it. You cursed at yourself, the curiosity about Taehyung and his life overruling your decision to shut the hell up. Taehyung’s movements stutter for a moment, his eyes lifting and looking at you through hooded lids as if he didn’t believe you didn’t already know. The lump in your throat grew and the fluttering in your chest didn’t cease, along with all that guilt that had built up between yesterday and this moment.

“Nothing,” he finally decided. You could tell he was battling with telling you or not, but then he reached down and grasped your hand. “I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to go out sometime. I usually have Taeji and all but he’s with his grandparents for the weekend so I figured maybe we could get something to eat and I don’t know, you don’t have to if you don’t want to-”

Your mouth is wide open and you look down at your hands intertwined, partly shocked but flattered nonetheless. Taehyung looks down at you with a sheepish smile planted on his face, almost grimacing and anticipating your negative answer. 

“I’d love to.” You finally answer, squeezing his hand.

You saw the looks he gave you when you walked out of your apartment building wearing the red dress you saved for only the utmost and fanciest occasions. There was no doubt in your mind that Taehyung wasn’t good at hiding the lust that shone in his eyes, but it didn’t bother you. His tongue darted out and bit onto his lip momentarily, and the action didn’t escape you. Things were moving fast, almost too fast.

The coffee-serving, student-loan paying reality you faced everyday made you want to let yourself go, to allow this, whatever it was, to move as fast as it damn near wanted to and you were determined to let it.

“You look incredible,” Taehyung murmured as his hand closed around the Tesla’s passenger handle and ushered you into the car, shutting it gently after you had settled in and gazed at the interior of the car.

The guilt was heavy in your chest as you thought about what you knew about Taehyung, and the fact that he ended up taking you to one of his hotels made it, oh, about a hundred times worse. The Grandiose Royal Hotel in downtown Gangnam was the nicest of them all, and while Taehyung continued to be his gentlemanly self by pulling a chair out for you, the guilt only magnified.

You almost resented Jackson for making the perception you had of sweet, single dad Kim Taehyung be demolished by something you had only read through gossip articles on the internet. So you sat there, internally battling with yourself over saying something or stuffing your mouth with the juicy filet mignon. 

“You’ve got something on your cheek,” You said, smiling as Taehyung looked up, his cheek stuffed with steak and his eyes flitting wildly before landing on you. He chewed, swallowed and shot you a boxy smile, leaning back as he dabbed his cloth napkin against the corners of his mouth.

Just as he was about to reply, your brain betrayed you and let you utter the words, “I know about it.” Taehyung stops completely, clearing his throat and putting his utensils down before looking down at his plate then back up at you. “Like what?”

You shake your head slightly. “Enough.” What did you know, really, besides that he was involved in a huge scandal that almost flung his chances of being a parent to his son out the window? Yeah, that was enough for you. But your brain didn’t think so, and you blurted, “Jackson showed me an article after you left the other day and I saw it even though I said I didn’t want to, and I couldn’t..I’m sorry about Minsoo.” 

It’s silent for a few awkward moments, and you’re thinking about cutting this whole thing short and quitting your job and moving to another country when Taehyung finally speaks up, no hesitation in his voice but he’s much quieter and more solemn than before.

“I didn’t know her.” He said, looking down and shoving another piece of steak in his mouth, as casually as he was before. Your head shot up from looking down at your hands, your fingers clenching the napkin as you stuttered through the next sentence that came from your mouth. “Y-you didn’t know her? I thought she was Taeji’s-”

Taehyung cuts you off, his voice louder and more present. “I didn’t know her,” he says, continuing with a steady voice, “Minsoo and I were only together for a night. I didn’t know about Taeji until the cops contacted me. I guess she kept him a secret because she knew I wasn’t the ‘dad-type.’” Taehyung finished, his fingers curling in apostrophes, voice finally breaking slightly. 

And then he’s laughing - laughing - but not the kind of laugh that you do when something is belly-aching funny. It’s more of a pity laugh, one of those that are monotonous and only humorous to the person enduring the hardship so you sit there, staring at your date with concerned eyes. “It’s whatever now, I guess.” He says.

You wanted to lean over and hold his hand, offer him some kind of solace but then he leaned forward and put to fingers up to signify the waiter, “Check please.” 

After the check was paid for and some pointless bickering between the two of you, you and Taehyung walks out of the restaurant and into the cold summer night. Before you can step into the red Tesla, Taehyung grabs on your hand and you swear electricity flits through your arms at the contact. He pulls you close to him, but he looks worried, concerned, as if he knew something was up. “Look, I’m not good at this. It’s been awhile, since hearing about Minsoo and just..dating..in general,” He says, trailing off and letting his other hand come up to rub the back of his neck.

You’re quiet as he squeezes your hand slightly, looking back up at you and asking, “Do you want to come back to my place for coffee or something?” Giving you a sheepish smile, he gently takes your other hand in his and squeezes, making you want to melt into a puddle at his dress-shoe clad feet.

“I think that would be fun,” You grinned, triggering a boxy, charming smile to emit on his face before he jogged to the other side of the Tesla and opened the door for you once again. You weren’t nervous anymore. It’s as if Taehyung had this dazzling effect on you, wiping away any nerves and worry and replacing it with his boxy smile that you couldn’t get out of your head.

As he drives out of the parking lot and onto the highway, the boldness in your chest flares up and you reach out to hit the button to start the radio. Adele blasts through the speakers and you’re immediately cackling, looking over at Taehyung who’s eyes have gone wide.

“Adele, huh! I approve!” You laugh, and Taehyung can’t help but let out a small, embarrassed laugh. 

“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing. Taeji likes Adele, I swear, you can ask him. Can we change it?” He begs, and you’re glad to see him laughing - genuinely laughing.

Just as you reach out to turn the volume up, his reach out to change the song. The now familiar electricity that comes with touching Taehyung’s skin sends shockwaves up your arm, vibrates in your chest and flits down your spine. You’re positive that he feels it too, because as soon as you pull your hand and away with a small gasp his retracts back to the steering wheel, his jaw clenched.

“So what else do you like besides Adele?” You joke, looking over at him. He looks hot as hell, one hand clenched around the top of the steering wheel while the other brushes his hair back against his head. Truthfully, you had been thinking about how his lips would feel on yours all night, from the moment you stepped out of the apartment building it turned from a want, to a need.

Taehyung looks thoughtful for a moment, before laughing and admitting, “I don’t really know, honestly. Taeji is my life, I don’t do much else.”

You smile. It’s obvious how much he loves his son. You don’t know why you ever doubted that. 

“Well, we’ll have to change that, won’t we? Next time you come into the cafe, I’ll give you the craziest thing we have on the menu. Then you can say you tried the craziest thing on the menu. You can be a dad and a coffee-enthusiast.” You say, and he looks over at you, letting a laugh erupt from his mouth and you follow.

“You got it, Y/N.”

You swallow hard at the sound of your name coming from his mouth, and turn to watch the streetlamps pass the car in waves until Taehyung pulls into a driveway adorning black iron gates attached to a concrete fence, his thumb pressing a button on the dash to unlock them. You never took Taehyung as a house type of guy, but then he pulls into the garage.

Exotic Bugattis, Koenigseggs, and Paganis line the garage like soldiers in a parade of wealth, all gleaming in the florescent lights on the ceiling. You step out of the Tesla in wonder, walking between the cars, almost scared to touch. “Jesus, Taehyung,” you say in a breathy whisper, and you look back to see Taehyung with a smug look on his face and his hands in his dress-pant pockets.

“So you’re a dad, a soon to be coffee enthusiast, and a car collector. Pretty good hobbies if you ask me.” You say in bewilderment, and then you get to the car at the end of the row. It was the last one, nestled near a shiny black Escalade and bright white Range Rover.

“You have a minivan!” You exclaim, a loud laugh coming out of your mouth and you look back at Taehyung who scoffs and laughs with you. “Well, yeah, I can’t drive a five year old around in a 2 million dollar car with no backseat. He still needs a booster.” He grumbles jokingly.

You saunter back over to him, looking back out into the seat of cars and say, “You’re such a soccer dad.” He laughs at your comment, and lets you go in front of him towards the garage door. 

Then suddenly, the automatic lights in the garage switch out to leave the two of you in complete and utter darkness. Whirling around, you put your arms out and choke back a loud, surprised laugh until he speaks. “Where are you?” Taehyung says from behind you, and you feel his arm snake around your waist only to pull you towards the door. It feels as if your breath has been knocked out of your lungs, and you don’t want him to let go of you.

“Oh, it’s right here,” Taehyung says, and light floods the garage as the door is kicked open. The inside of the house is just as incredible, with one wall painted with glass windows and the overview of the city glowing brightly in the distance. The lights look like millions of tiny fireflies lighting up at once, and you’re drawn to the window, pressing your hands on it to stare at Seoul.

Taehyung comes up next to you, his hands back in his pockets as he watches your face glow with the soft hues of light that transfer through the sky. “Pretty, isn’t it?” He asks, his voice soothing like aloe on sunburn, and he turns around to gesture at the living room.

All the furniture was white, with silver accents along with the touch of green from various plants in different corners of the room. It was extremely elegant and modern, clean and sleek, and you were impressed. You turn and your eyes land on the only bright colors around - Taeji’s legos are strewn across the white marble floor like candy and his hot wheel cars are in odd places as he was probably pretending to drive them along the arm of the leather couch or under the fireplace. You could imagine the little boy making little “vroom, vroom” noises as he went about, and it brought a small smile to your face.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Taehyung begins, then smiles at the sight of Taeji’s toys. “Don’t mind those, he didn’t listen to me when I told him to clean them up so they’ll be waiting for him to clean up when he gets back tomorrow.” He laughs. “Just don’t step on the legos.” 

You laugh, “I’ve been there before.” 

“Ouch. Well, hopefully you can suppress the memory with some coffee, how do you like it?”

You walk into the kitchen after him, marveling at the state of the art appliances before seating yourself on a barstool pushed up against the island. “Decaf, and black, please.” You say.

Taehyung gives you a weird look, slightly amused, as he turns around and begins to pour the coffee into mugs. “For someone who works at a cafe with lots of fancy drinks, I’d think you’d be more experimental,” he jokes, coming around the corner to sit next to you.

He’s so close - you could just lean over and kiss him right then and there, his pink plump lips calling to you from mere inches away but you rein the thoughts in as you take a sip from your mug. “Nah. I like to keep it simple.” You answer simply, settling with the mug to warm the palms of your hands.

He nods, then asks, “So is there anything else you know?” 

Just like at the restaurant, the question makes you reel back a little. The mug is beginning to burn your hands, but your cheeks have already begun burning.

“Uh - not, uh, really. I didn’t read anything in-depth. Figured it wasn’t fair.” You said, hoping he’d drop it.

“Wasn’t fair? How? It’s my fault it’s all over the internet.” Taehyung said, quirking an eyebrow in your direction as he sips from his mug.

You lower the mug from your lips without taking a sip. “If we’re going to be..anything, I’d rather hear the story from you when you’re ready to tell it, not from some dumb gossip column.” 

Taehyung doesn’t move, and looks thoughtfully at you with a small smile on his face. You’re wondering if he’s going to launch into something about how what happened with the hotel, and why he wasn’t guilty, but he begins with something that surprises you.

“I worry about Taeji a lot. He asks where his mom is all the time, and I have no way to answer him. He remembers her, better than I do even. He’s getting to the point where he sees his friend’s mom’s and asks me, “Where’s mommy?” Just hard. You know?”

It’s obvious he hasn’t stopped thinking about Minsoo all night, and you felt like it was your fault. All you wanted was to reach out to let Taehyung know it will all turn out, that it will be okay, so you do just that. Your hand reaches out and intertwines your fingers with his, the warmth from the coffee mug in your palms now replaced with Taehyung’s body heat.

He looked up at you, and your mind was whirling with thoughts and words you wanted to say to him but all you did squeeze his hand, take in a deep breath and finally lean forward to press your lips against his.

Taehyung responds almost immediately, his other hand letting go of the coffee mug to let it rest on the edge of the counter then grabbing your other hand. The kiss began to get heated, to the point where the two of you were fighting over dominance, tongues tied and breathless, almost silent whimpers coming from your mouth as Taehyung plants hot, wet kisses down the base of your neck to the valley of your breasts.

The two of you stood up and Taehyung’s hips and body pressed you into the edge of the counter, almost splattering the coffee that was there but completely ignoring it, totally entangled within each other. Your hands are in his hair, tangling in knots as his hands roam your body, gently squeezing your hips as you let out a small moan of pleasure.

Taehyung murmurs, “Jump,” and you aren’t sure what he means until his hands plant themselves under your ass, massaging the flesh and prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. You’re a head taller than he is; his mouth angled up to continue kissing you as he guides the two of you towards what you presume is his bedroom.

Finally, the door is kicked open and he gently pushes you down on the bed, hovering over you as he disconnects his mouth from yours as he kisses your neck, making you moan at the sensitive spot under your earlobe he continues to bite at. 

“Are you okay with this?” Taehyung asks, pulling away from you to look at your face, his voice breathless. All you can manage is the whisper of a “Yes,” wanting for Taehyung to continue because you had been wanting to feel him all night long.

It’s not long until his hands are tugging at the zipper of your dress, fingers grabbing onto it and dragging it down slowly before he’s tenderly helping you out of the red material. The dress lands on the floor with a small thump, leaving you in just your lacy black bra and plain black underwear - it’s not like you were exactly expecting this, but all you wanted was for Taehyung to keep going, to not stop.

You grab onto his tie before he can take off his own dress shirt, shrugging off the black blazer as he’s being pulled down at your call to connect your mouth to his once again for a rougher, wetter kiss, and your hands quickly untie the tie and begin to work at the buttons until Taehyung sits up to get it himself.

His chest is bare by the time he begins to kiss your collarbone, then down to your breasts as one hand expertly unhooks your bra from behind and placing rough kisses against the flesh and making you arch your back. “T-Taehyung, more, please,” you breathe, and he looks up at you with lustful eyes before he makes his way down to the space between your naval and the band of your underwear, snagging a finger on the material and letting it snap back against your skin.

“D-Don’t be such a tease,” You whimper, bucking your hips and your hand reaching down to pull at his, trying to get him to touch you, to relieve the pressure between your legs somehow. Taehyung pulls back completely, chuckling menacingly, “Patience, baby.” 

You can feel his hot breath against your skin. He’s practically begging for you to get frustrated with him and do the deed yourself, before his fingers are rubbing your clit from over the underwear making you shift under him. “Taehyung!” You whine, and he looks up at you from under hooded lids, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as if he was about to have the meal of his life. 

“What? This is the best part, seeing you squirm because of me.” He says cynically, his voice gravelly and dark, before he’s rubbing hard circles against your clit with his thumb over the black material of your underwear. His fingers finally grab at the band and his other hand comes to support you at the hip, where you’re sure to have thumb-print bruises against the skin the next morning.

When his mouth finally connects to your clit, your back arches in pleasure as shock waves ride up your spine, then shooting back down to your arousal as he flicks his tongue against your pink flesh. His mouth makes lewd popping and sucking noises as he spreads your arousal around, dipping into your entrance and making your head spin. 

The coil in your stomach was growing at a speed you didn’t think was possible, but then Taehyung added a finger, jamming it into your entrance and making you cry out in pleasure as he curled it against your walls. “You like that, baby? You want more?” He asks sinfully, and all you can do is nod and buck your hips against his mouth, the vibrations from his words adding to the ever-growing building feeling in your stomach.

A second finger is added and Taehyung is furiously pumping and curling his fingers in and out of you while his tongue continues it’s assault on your swollen clit. “Ah - fuck!” You shout as Taehyung reaches a particular sensitive spot inside of you, brushing against it ever few seconds and making the coil ready to burst at any moment.

“Taehyung, I’m g-gonna,” you said, unable to finish your sentance as Taehyung mumbles, “Are you going to come, baby girl? Come for me.” 

His words send you over the edge, legs trembling and shaking as Taehyung continues to flick his tongue over your flesh. Your walls squeeze his fingers as he continues to pump them in and out of you, your back arched high and your toes curling as your orgasm rips through your body. Spine-tingling, toe-curling pleasure shoots through your nerves as he continues to help you ride it out until the end, but he doesn’t stop.

He continues his assult until you’re writihing underneath him again, whimpering, “Taehyung, it’s t-too much.” You’re frustrated, trying to scoot away from his hold on you but he continues to lap at your arousal, sending sparks through your brain. The overstimulation didn’t stop until you were almost in tears, Taehyung stepping back and standing up to wipe your glittering juices from his chin and the bridge of his nose.

Taehyung made sure you were watching when he stuck his two fingers in his mouth and released them with a lewd pop, but you swore that if he was going to be a tease, then so were you. “You taste so good, baby.”

You scooted down to the end of the bed where you were in front of Taehyung, standing up despite your trembling legs to press your mouth against his, one hand moving down to begin undoing his Gucci belt. You could tell how hard he was just by the way he grabbed the belt from your hands and threw it on the floor along with his dress pants. 

You immediately brought your hand down to his clothed erection, roughly palming it and squeezing as he moaned into your mouth. You could tell he was getting agitated with the teasing, but ‘you reap what you sow, right, Taehyung?’

“Baby, just come on, please,” Taehyung begged, and you squeezed his dick, making him throw his head back. “Patience, remember?” You giggled, before pressing a kiss to his neck that would surely leave a big bruise.

Getting down on your knees in front of him, your fingers let the band of his underwear snap against his skin a few times, dipping your hand down into them to squeeze his dick before he’s practically bucking into your hand, and only then do you finally give in and pull his underwear down his legs to let his erection spring free.

Your hand moves up and down his shaft, your thumb coming to the head to swipe at the sensitive slit and drag his precum around, then batting your eyelashes at him as he watches you put your thumb in your mouth to suck his arousal off. His head is thrown back after that, eyes clenched shut as your hands begin to move furiously up and down, creating the friction Taehyung so desperately wanted.

His moans filled the air, nonstop as your mouth finally landed on the head of his dick, swirling your tongue around in different patterns and motions until he had his hands on the back of your head, pushing your down ever so slightly on him. You choke slightly, the tightening of your throat becoming too much for him as he chokes out, “I-I’m going to come, s-stop-” 

You let off of him with a pop, his breathing heavy as he growls and pushes you back down on the bed, body heaving as he presses rough kisses against your mouth. “You’re on birth control, right?” He breathes, and you nod, pressing your mouth against his again as he finally guides his dick towards your entrance, rubbing the head against your folds and making you moan.

“T-Taehyung,” you breathe out, desperate for him to get inside of you and quit his damn teasing, and he shoots you a knowing smirk. He presses himself into you, and you cry out at the needed friction and pleasure as it takes over your whole body. Taehyung rocks into you, going deep then becoming shallow before gradually slamming into you again.

The entire room is full of yours and Taehyung’s explicit moans and grunts as he continues moving in and out of you, the coil in your stomach back as the head of his dick finds the same spot his fingers did inside of you, making you scream out and rake your nails down his back. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re tight as hell,” Taehyung moans, his head in the crook of your shoulder, brown hair tickling the skin.

“Fuck, I’m not going to last,” he moans again as the coil in your stomach begins to unravel, and you’re shouting as your walls tighten around him and seemingly burst with pleasure, and soon enough he’s choked up and coming inside of you in hot bursts. His thrusts are sloppy and crooked but Taehyung continues through both of your orgasms as they rip through.

He stops moving and the two of you listen to each other’s heavy breathing before he rolls off of you to the other side of the bed and stays silent for a minute. “Jesus,” He whispers, his voice still strained with all of the moaning.

Unexpectedly, he turns to you and throws an arm around your stomach, and you turn to him in confusion. He notices, his hand now cupping your hip to try and pull you closer to him. “Cuddle with me,” He demands, but the boxy smile that follows only makes you melt. The room smells of sex and sweat, but you don’t mind as you turn over to face Taehyung, eyes closing with the sudden fatigue taking over your body.

“I think Taeji will be okay,” you say suddenly, your eyes peeking open to see Taehyung analyzing your face, mouth slightly parted. He quirks an eyebrow, prompting you to continue.

You breath in, snuggling closer to him until your foreheads are touching and your thumb is moving in circles across his lips. “I grew up without a mom, too. My dad is amazing, and I think you’re pretty good at it, too. Parenting, I mean.” You stutter out, suddenly embarrassed at your word choice.

Taehyung smirks, “Oh, yeah? Just parenting, huh?”

You laugh and swat at his chest, but one of his hands catches yours and laces your fingers together. “I never took you for pillowtalk,” You say, your noses now touching as you pressed a gentle kiss to his plump lips.

He laughs. “What, just because I had a kid with someone I didn’t know suddenly means I’m not into pillowtalk? Man, Y/N, you’re harsh.” He jokes, grinning at you. You just scoff and giggle, but he continues. “I’m really not the same person I was a few years ago. Things are better now, Taeji set me straight.” He claims, and you believe him as the two of you drift off to sleep, his arm slung over your hip and your face buried under his chin.

You awoke the next morning to Taehyung snoring slightly, and the light filtering through the room. You hadn’t had a chance to check out the room, obviously, but you were impressed with how well the entire place was decorated. The room adorned flowy curtains and dark cherry wood floors, a light tan color shading the room a happy, bright color.

Taehyung stirred beside you, turning over and accidentally slamming his hand into your chin. “Ow, fuck,” you mutter, and Taehyung’s eyes shoot open to see you rubbing your face. 

“O-oh my god, I’m sorry,” He yelped, sitting up and prying your hand away from the area - a true dad move as he rubbed the cleft of your chin and pecked it. “You want a bandaid?” He joked, standing up and slipping on a pair of underwear. 

You crossed your arms and in a pout said, “So what if I do?” 

Taehyung laughed, his eyes lighting up. You loved how he glowed, the light bouncing off his shiny hair and reflecting in his eyes, and you realized just how beautiful this man is despite his hardships, inside and out. 

“Do you want Iron Man or Hello Kitty? Taeji likes Hello Kitty,” Taehyung laughed before disappearing into the bathroom, giving you the chance to get up, put your underwear on and dig through his top drawer for a shirt. He came out of the bathroom waving a Hello Kitty bandaid when he stopped, watching you pull out a black shirt and slipping it over your head, where it reached the top of your thighs.

“You look hot as hell in my shirt,” He said, scaring you into jumping backwards, a tinge of red making its way to your face in embarrassment. 

You looked down. “I didn’t bring anything besides the dress..sorry,” You mumble, but his eyes are only on you, raking in your entire body. “N-no, that’s fine, you should wear my stuff more often.” He says finally, walking over to you and showing you the bandaid. 

You stare at him in amusement as he unsticks the bandaid from it’s backing and smacks it onto your “injured” chin, a laugh erupting as you look at yourself in the mirror above his dresser. “You look great, I dig chicks who wear my clothes and prefer Hello Kitty bandaids over Iron Man ones.”

You swat at his chest again, “I never admitted to anything,” you challenged, stepping forward and then he’s got his lips on yours again, roughly pushing you towards the bed, that is, until you hear a cough at the door.

Taehyung jumps up, landing on his feet and stumbling over yours, and you sit up to get a glance at where the cough came from.

An older woman and an older man stood there in the doorway; each of them have a hand resting on little Taeji’s shoulder. He wears a blue monster truck shirt and khaki shorts with a yellow Paw Patrol backpack on his shoulders, presumably carrying his clothes and things.

“Ah, uh, Ahjumma. Nice to see you, thank you for bringing Taeji back.” 

The older woman has a scowl on her face as she peers up at Taehyung, taking in the fact that he was only in red boxers. The man looks equally as angry, looking down at Taeji to turn him slightly away from the sight of you and Taehyung. 

“Who’s this, Taehyung?” The woman asks, her voice clipped as her eyes rake over your face, silently judging you. You shift on your feet before looking down at the ground, desperate to get out of this situation. 

“This is..” Taehyung begins, but trails off as Taeji turns back to you, a cute boxy smile growing on his face.

“That’s pretty coffee girl!”

[betsynagler]

1.8 Insults a Day

On inauguration day in 2017, which was also, sadly, my birthday, Damon and I were feeling shitty about the world, and so one way we decided to resist was by creating a Twitter bot called About a Bully, with the handle @insultingdonald. For those of you who don’t know what a Twitter bot is, it’s a Twitter account that you digitally alter to run automatically. Most bots tweet on a regular schedule or in response to certain stimuli, like people tweeting at it who want to see what it will come up with when it answers them. You can make it generate its own material if you know enough about AI (although if you think you know about AI and you don’t you can end up creating something like this, so it’s best not to fuck around), or you can create a bunch of material that it can mix up according to formulae you give it and send out at random. The material we chose for About a Bully was Trump’s insults, but rewritten so that they are directed at him. So if you follow @insultingdonald, about three times a day you will see it tweet out things like “Trump is a liar!”, or “Sleazebag President Donald Trump,” or “Never in the history of our Country has the ‘president’ been more dishonest than he is today.” If you're familiar with our current president, you will recognize a lot of these tweets for who they are typically directed at. For instance, from time to time you'll see something like “Donald Trump, who I call Pocahontas,” which refers to Elizabeth Warren, or something about “FAKE TRUMP,” which fills in for his many tweets railing at the media, and of course lots of “Crooked Donald”s — which you'd have to be living under a rock to not know was in its original form “Crooked Hilary,” something that also comes up at lot because he’s still regularly tweeting about her this way, two and half years after the 2016 election, especially when he’s feeling defensive about the Mueller probe, which is basically always.

Which brings me to something that I didn't anticipate when we created this bot. Because Damon is the coder in our duo, I do most of the analog end of our work. To maintain About a Bully, this means that I am the one who has to go in every few months and collect and adapt Trump’s insults, which means I have to comb through months of his tweets at a stretch. Given how industrious he is in this one area (as opposed to pretty much anything else, other than maybe watching Fox), that generally means I spend several hours immersing myself in…well, just garbage. A stream of pure, steaming, foul-smelling offal. At least that’s how it feels. 

This is not what most people experience when they follow the president on Twitter. For them, he’s just one person in their feed, that flow of tweets from all of the people they follow, that appears basically in real time. If you're following maybe 200 people, one of whom is Trump, you'll see his tweets mixed up with everyone else’s, popping up a few times a day — which is why lots of people I’ve always assumed are sane, like some of my friends as well as Jordan Peele, Chris Pratt, Chris Rock, Seth Meyers, and John Cusack, who don’t have to follow him for work like journalists or politicians presumably do, can tolerate following him (although the comedians do also need to generate material, so there’s that). 

But if you go to Trump’s Twitter page and read three to six months of tweets at a stretch, the picture is very different. First of all, you see just how much he repeats himself, over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and just keep going with the overs. He hammers away at the same claims, complaints and attacks, day after day — sometimes the exact same, when he retweets himself, as he frequently does, or when he uses his regular slogans, like some version of “THE FAKE NEWS MEDIA IS THE ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE.” He also repeatedly uses the same words or phrases, such as

exciting 

beautiful

tremendous  

great

smart

sacred (this one’s especially bizarre, given all that we know about him)

special 

NO COLLUSION

PRESIDENTIAL HARASSMENT (ironic)

not smart / low IQ (also ironic, for someone who threatened his high school and college not to divulge his transcripts or SAT scores) 

crazy (okay, let’s just say they are all ironic)

disgrace / disgraceful

conflicted (used to describe someone or something that has a conflict of interest, not someone who feels conflicted. Yeah, took me a while to figure that one out, since my reaction was always, “I don't really think Bob Mueller is conflicted at all about the Russia investigation.”)

dopey 

fake or FAKE 

failed, or failing 

illegal

dishonest

lying or lyin’ 

Crooked, as I already mentioned, always capitalized because it’s always used as part of, or a substitute for, Hilary Clinton’s name. 

Whether this repetitiveness is a strategy or something of which he's unaware, or a combination of the two, is hard to say since we can’t actually go inside his mind (although reading his tweets gets pretty close, which, again, is why I feel covered in filth after doing it for a few hours). Regardless, it is mind-numbing, and thus hard not to read as both the work of someone absent-minded and slightly deranged, and propaganda. Especially because, second, his tweets are just full of flat-out lies, which he also repeats. This is a technique we’ve seen perfected at Fox News and then passed on to the entire Republican Party as “staying on message,” but it’s especially necessary if you’re trying to generate a "fact” out of thin air. Here are just the ones that he said so far today:

“The Wall is being built and is well under construction.” People on both sides of the aisle (most blatantly his friend and foe Ann Coulter) have pointed out repeatedly how untrue this is. 

“We are apprehending record numbers of illegal immigrants - but we need the Wall to help our great Border Patrol Agents!” Impossible, since only 521K were apprehended in 2018, and the trend is downward overall, from a high of 1.5 million in 2000. He actually claimed himself that the numbers were down throughout 2017 and 2018, as proof that his border policies were working, and has only now 180-ed on that to prove we have a “state of emergency.”

“Both the Judge and the lawyer in the Paul Manafort case stated loudly and for the world to hear that there was NO COLLUSION with Russia.” What the judge actually said was that Manafort was “not before this court for anything having to do with collusion with the Russian government to influence this election,” which is not at all the same thing, and the lawyer who said there was no collusion was Manafort’s lawyer, who also claimed he wasn’t guilty of bank fraud or cheating on his taxes, two things of which he was just convicted.

And this is not an unusual amount, since, according to the Washington Post the president averaged 15 false claims a day in 2018. 

Third, his tweets are full of incorrect grammar and spelling. Typos like “hamberders” and “Covfefe” have become the most famous instances, but nearly every tweet has something wrong with it. There's erroneous capitalization (most of which he claims is for added emphasis, but in the case of, for example, “Where are the new Texts between Agent Lisa Page and her Agent lover, Peter S?”, what is there to emphasize about Texts?). There is the weird/incorrect use of punctuation, like dashes and scare quotes where they don't belong and missing apostrophes where they do (here's one that contains all three!: “Without strong Borders, we don’t have a Country - and the voters are on board with us. Be strong and smart, don’t fall into the Democrats “trap” of Open Borders and Crime!”). And there are the most basic mistakes like spelling “lose” as “loose,” “heal” as “heel” (very Freudian), “there” as “their” and vice versa, “too” or “two” as “to,” etc etc. Of course with any of these, you can say that lots of people make these kinds of mistakes, but you must always remember, they aren't the president of the United States.

Which is what's so remarkable and disturbing about diving into this stream of spew: it’s yet another appalling example of something we've just accepted Trump does that you cannot imagine any other president would have been caught dead doing, of something that is not normal that we've just gotten used to. Even W, who we all thought was not the sharpest tool in the shed, knew enough to delegate things he wasn't good at (and if the world as we know it is fucked because he delegated too many of them to Dick Cheney, that’s not because Cheney was not competent at achieving what he wanted, but because he was). Trump’s Twitter feed shows him not only to be just as stupid and arrogant as you think — because he figures that all of this thoughtless, repetitive crap that comes into his head and then out of his tiny fingers is exciting, beautiful, tremendous!, just as it is, and thus doesn't need to be vetted or edited, even when it potentially obstructs justice or reveals information damaging to national security — but even more self-promoting, defensive, childish, crude, and vindictive, and obsessively so. It's the feed of someone who so believes that the only truth is what he wants it to be, and that he can make the whole world that way if he just continues to hammer it into submission, repeatedly, day after day after day. And on a lot of those days, it seems that America keeps proving him right. Republican lawmakers are certainly trying.

Perhaps the saddest thing that we’ve figured out since 2015, when the New York Times started collecting his insults (and we give them full credit for tracking this phenomenon before we did), is that Trump has averaged 1.8 per day. And that means, since he actually can go for days without an insult if things are going well for him or if he just feels like retweeting other people (and we only include the insults that originate with him), that the concentration of insults you’ll encounter on a given day can often be an impressive four or five. Now, I’m sure we all know people who average more insults than this — the worst bully you ever encountered in junior high, the most horrible boss you ever had, the crazy neighbor down the hall who made your life hell, Howard Stern, Rush Limbaugh — but again, none of these people are the President of the United States, to whom we somehow chose to give more power than anyone else in the nation, and in doing so, perhaps the world.

One other thing I noticed this time around, though, was that there are now a lot of people trolling Trump. More people who are anti-Trump than pro respond to his tweets these days, and there are people who do it relentlessly. Sometimes they have cogent arguments with evidence to support them, but a lot of the posts just include memes and name-calling. Then the MAGA people troll the trolls, and then other people troll them, and on and on, until all the yelling and insults surrounding his feed become a reflection of it. It’s sort like what our bot does, only we created our thing to purposely hold up a funhouse mirror to Trump’s tweets and point out their ugly absurdity, whereas this flow of comment bile just shows how he's actually reshaped so much of the way people “talk” about politics now into a warped reflection of himself. And yes, you can and must also blame the internet for that, and Newt Gingrich, and Steve Bannon, and Roger Ailes, but Trump is their golem, the ultimate manifestation of what we let them do, brought to life in such horrible fashion that many days it still doesn’t seem real to me. And then I go read his fucking tweets.

I used to think that if your average Republican — not his die-hard supporters, because I've given up on them — read his feed the way that I do, with all the repetition and lies and mistakes, and repetition of the lies and mistakes, over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and hopefully you get it now, they'd recognize how appalling it is that Trump is our president, and realize they can't vote for him in 2020. But now I think maybe they'd just see it all as normal, as the way we talk about issues, the way we talk about each other: us vs. them, good vs. bad, my truth vs. your truth because I make mine real, everything justified in this zero-sum conflict which is best expressed not in conversation, but in insults. And where do you go from there? 

[deltaengineering]

summer anime 2017 part 1: we can rebuild it

This season isn’t very hot so far, but since I have a bunch of stuff carrying over, I’m not exactly complaining. Let’s go. We have three shows that share a curious theme, two that curiously do not, and one that’s actually good. Somehow that adds up to ten.

See also:

• part 2: bunch of fools

Battle Girl High School

We start the season with the possibly blandest title for an anime in quite a while. And the show itself easily manages to match the expectations the title raises: It's a high school with a bunch of girls that do battle. And by "a bunch" I mean more than I can offhandedly recall; the spiritual predecessor to this all-you-can-eat buffet of archetypes is clearly Girl Friend Beta (and it's also based on some waifu-collectathon mobile game) - only now with more magical girl henshins and hitting things with stupidly elaborate sticks. Oh and some of them are idols, because of course they are. Honestly there's nothing too objectionable in here, but it's just still an anonymous 24 minutes of mass manufactured anime-shaped packing peanuts.

Enmusubi no Youko-chan

...or "Fox Spirit Matchmaker". I've heard some positive rumblings about the quality of the source material in the run-up to this season, but that just goes to show that you can't trust people who read Chinese webcomics. Fox Spirit Matchmaker is a "romantic action comedy" (i.e., idiotic glutton/lecher guy and naive foxblob get matchmade by happenstance, hilarity and wuxia skirmishes ensue) of the kind that Japan thankfully got tired of a decade ago. The jokes are bad, the execution is so clumsy that they wouldn't land even if they were, and the action is pretty laughable too. There’s a whole bizarre universe that nobody could possibly give a fuck about around it as well, and boy does it want to tell you about it. If that sounds familiar: Why yes, Haoliners is indeed at it again and this is by no means their finest hour either.

Fate/Apocrypha

With the massive amounts of Fate spinoffs around, it can be quite hard to keep track. Apocrypha is an "alternative retelling" of a grail war in a world where Fate/Zero and subsequently Fate/stay night did not happen and everyone decides to have a team deathmatch in Romania instead. Among TRUE FATE MURDERHEADS Apocrypha is mostly known as "the really stupid one", or, if that is ambiguous (which it may well be, given that the competition includes gems such as “Fate, but on the moon”), "the one where one of the Casters is Shakespeare". It's Fate adapted to the sensibilities of a mid-2010 light novel, and while this gives it a certain... exuberance, I don't know if I really care for more slightly different Fate with no less than two Saberclones. The first episode certainly does not help because it spends half the time explaining what a grail war is (and everyone who knows Fate has heard that a hundred times), and the other half on how it's different from the main canon (and everyone who doesn't know Fate would not care about that in the slightest). I still feel tempted to find out how truly dumb this can get, but realistically it would have to be much, much better than it is for me to get over my severe Fate burnout.

Hina Logi - From Luck & Logic

Speaking of established (well, kinda) things getting retooled to other tastes, remember Luck & Logic? It was a pretty pedestrian battle harem that I only remember because it was made by Doga Kobo and looked pretty distinctly cool as a result. Well, now it has a sequel, even though you couldn't tell. Hina Logi goes out of its way to be as different as possible from L&L, and just to start with it's no longer a battle harem, but a Kirara imitator. Of course, the concept of superpowers injected into a cute girls doing fuck all anime would turn out to be mahou shoujo-ish, and the writing even points out how much an universe can change in just a few years - I see what you did there. Doga Kobo excels at exactly this type of show, so this just aligns the franchise more to their strengths, but even in this aspect there's a twist: it looks entirely different, more or less like the sort of glossy but unmemorable show JC Staff would churn out. In any case, I'm talking so much about this franchise mutation because it's really the only interesting thing about it; it's a basic Kiraralike, and you've seen these before. If you watched Hinako Note last season, you might also like Hina Logi. It has fights now.

Isekai Shokudou

The term "isekai" has turned into a very dirty word in the last few years. But one should not forget that it's still a perfectly normal word, and doesn't necessarily refer to the light novel subgenre that has grown around it like a tumor. Just because it's in the title, that doesn't mean Isekai Shokudou is also a light no- Well, okay, it is one. But! It's not in fact about an otaku shitter that gets hit by a car and is reborn in a world where nerds stuff the jocks into lockers with the power of nerd knowledge. Instead it's about a magic restaurant that sometimes connects to a fantasy world, and then the cook serves the fantasy creatures delicious Terran meals. He picks up a demon girl that has fallen on hard times as a waitress. By the way, said cook is voiced by Junichi Suwabe, and Suwabe + cute girl is a classic winning combination that almost managed to save Demi-chan on its own. So Isekai Shokudou is pretty damn cute, and it has a leisurely pace that makes it quite relaxing too. On top of that, it's also funny just because of the absurdity of its concept, without this being played for ha-ha comedy. You can still tell that there's a light novel underneath it by the characteristic over-reliance on flat exposition, but based on episode 1 alone, it's a charming little show and my first real pick of the season.

Kakegurui

Hey guys, do you like Kaiji? Do you like Prison School? Do you like crazy faces? Oh boy have I got the show for you. Kakegurui is about a high school where the entire student body is way into high-stakes gambling, and when the money runs out, there's always femdom to be had instead. Kakegurui is unabashedly sleazy and extremely over the top, and MAPPA bring a lot of skill in direction, animation, editing, music, etc. to the table as well. The thing is just... as ostentatious everything about it is, the core of the show isn't very convincing on a writing level. The gambling mindgames are actually far less complicated than the show would lead you to believe, and the characters are not very profound either when they're just tripping balls and going 150% crazy all the time. The show would need at least one of these to hold up in the long run, and it's not out of the question that it might acquire it; As it is, it's a cool wacky short movie but I have my doubts whether this can carry a whole TV show. But the production values are good enough to give it at least a chance.

Katsugeki/Touken Ranbu

And here we have the third radical reinterpretation of a source material: Touken Ranbu, the sword boyfriend simulator, already had an adaptation by Doga Kobo - and of course that was just Cute Swords Doing Cute Things. Now ufotable is doing their take on it, so it's, believe it or not, a lot like Fate UBW all of a sudden, character design, heavyhanded color correction, 3D CG effects and all - It's a real anime now, with things like plot and characters, and very competently made action show at that, and for some that may be enough. But not only that, it also has the tone and word vomit writing of Fate now, and that's where it gets sketchier. Without affinity for the source material, I find it hard to care about the exploits of big sword man and his small swordsexual life partner, and I care even less about their convoluted, nonsensical time travel scheme that gets explained way past the breaking point. And the action being great doesn't really matter if all they do is effortlessly style all over mass produced smoke monsters with a blade sticking out of them. I also can't shake the feeling that Doga Kobo's version was just a bit closer to the true fujo meaning of Touken Ranbu, if you know what I mean. K/tr seems watchable, but behind the premium production there just doesn't seem to be anything interesting.

Keppeki Danshi! Aoyama-kun

"Keppeki" means "neat freak", and congratulations, you have discovered The Joke. What if a neurotic germophobe was also an extremely talented soccer player? So many opportunities to make the same joke over and over again! It's really quite a shame that this one is so one-note, because the sports show holding it together is actually one of the better soccer anime I've seen - it has good direction and a good pace once the game is on. I also like that the character design looks a lot like ACCA’s. But overall there's not much of that and a lot of The Joke, and even the better bits (like the character design) are marred by egregious overuse of SD comedy that doesn't fit stylistically at all. If I wanted this kind of comedy, I'd rather watch Sakamoto desu ga, and not a less stylish Sakamoto desu ga with frustrating glimpses of a good soccer anime in between.

Knight's & Magic

So, about that isekai. What if I told you that Knight's (the apostrophe is important) & Magic is in fact about an otaku shitter that gets hit by a car and is reborn in a world where nerds stuff the jocks into lockers with the power of nerd knowledge? It's true! Knight's & Magic is probably not the worst of this ilk I've seen, but that's a largely academic distinction. In fact it's quite bizarre that it even is an isekai story; Yeah, a gunpla nerd gets reborn into a world where mechas are real (and it's a fantasy world, which doesn't really make much sense but hey, robots), but there's really no reason he couldn't have come from this world in the first place, especially since he literally gets reborn and we have to watch a boring series of timeskips throughout his whole childhood anyway. Maybe him being a programmer with pop culture hobbies just like you and me will become relevant eventually, but I really don't care to find out.

Youkai Apartment no Yuuga na Nichijou

And finally, here's a show that reminds us that Haoliners are not the only ones that can create an uncanny valley of competence that is eerily similar to "real" anime but not quite there. And this is a special case - usually this sort of production is attached to very bad ideas, but there's really nothing wrong with the story of a guy who moves into a house that turns out to be co-inhabited by ghosts and other assorted spiritual critters. Nothing, apart from everything: The directing is sluggish, the animation is conspicuously cheap, the writing takes forever just to get to the point that there's g-g-g-ghosts, and the characters are devoid of any personality apart from being scared/not being scared of the youkai menagerie. Do yourself a favor and watch Spirited Away again instead, because this bargain basement TV version with a high school loser up front has nothing to add and a lot to subtract.

[blockheadbrands]

The Best (and Worst) Stoner Cereals

Wilder Shaw of High Times Reports:

Is there anything more definitive of the munchies than a big bowl of cereal? We honestly don’t think so. It’s a perfect food, no matter the time of day. We think it’s high time we look around at the world of cereal and see just what’s going on.

Best Cereal in the History of Cereals: Cinnamon Toast Crunch

As you chomp down a spoonful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, a river of sensations flow, dreamlike, across your palate: The delicate, yet precise balance of cinnamon and sugar; the flawless crunch of the toasted wheat and rice; the cold sensation of milk blended with a dash of nostalgia. Memories are triggered from a simpler time– flashbacks to little league, or school, or after 15 blunts. Every aspect of General Mills’ masterpiece combines to create a harmonious union of flavor, elevating you from the blandness of your normal life to a place far away from worries, strife, and away from trouble. The taste takes you up to the heavens, to the great beyond, towards light, to the edge of time and space, and into dimensions untold.

That’s what a bite of Cinnamon Toast Crunch is like.

Most Ingenious Idea: Reese’s Puffs

Reese’s Puffs, by all means, is cheating. Not sure how they got away with simply combining Cocoa Puffs and Peanut Butter Crunch, but they’ve done it — and they’ve done it well. Peanut butter and chocolate is a time-tested combo, and just like Reese’s candy, the cereal is nothing short of a grand slam.

Not Much Different than Eating Razor Blades: Cap’n Crunch

Cap’n Crunch is straight up painful. With every bite, you’re declaring war on the roof of your mouth. What’s the deal, Cap? Why does your cereal gotta be so dangerous? Surely there must be a way to retain the flavor without feeling like you’re eating a bowl of ninja throwing stars.

Best Mascot: Dig’em Frog

Dig’em is about as chill as it gets. He’s named after the way he feels about the very cereal he promotes. I have no choice but to assume Dig’em spent years trying to promote other cereals, but never really felt, in his heart, that they were the ones. But then Sugar Smacks came along (they’re called Honey Smacks now, for some reason) and Dig’em dug ‘em.

Oh, by the way, please don’t eat them right now. Unless you feel like getting salmonella.

Worst Mascot: Crazy Craving

What a true nightmare Crazy Craving is. The thing is fully rabid, and capable only of screaming, “ME WANT HONEYCOMB”. It’s like they managed to make Donie from The Wild Thornberrys even worse. Get Crazy Craving out of here, please.

The Chris & Liam Hemsworth Effect: Honey Nut Cheerios & Cheerios

No reason to sugar coat this (pun only semi-intended). Liam Hemsworth ain’t shit. Chris Hemsworth, on the other hand, is the dang God of Thunder. A great actor. A specimen of a man. Eyes like the sea after a storm. You may know Chris Hemsworth from such hits as The Avengersin which he plays Thor, or Snow White & The Huntsman, in which he plays the titular Huntsman. You may know Liam Hemsworth from such hits as The Expendables 2, in which he plays the character you forgot was in the movie, or The Hunger Games in which he plays the worst character in The Hunger Games.

The point is: Chris is Honey Nut Cheerios, and Liam is regular Cheerios. One is flawless, and one isn’t. I’m sorry. This is the way it is.

Biggest Sneak: Froot Loops

Froot Loops have been hiding two things from us for a very, very long time. For starters, fruit is spelled “froot”, which is despicable. Second, every single loop of froot that you eat is the exact same flavor. Very sneaky, Froot Loops. Very. Sneaky.

The Cereal That Even Weed Can’t Make Taste Good: Raisin Bran

If you make a food that contains raisins, and the raisins are the best part of the food, then guess what? I’m sorry, but you have made a bad food.

Biggest Waste of Potential: Oreo O’s

To this day, I still have no idea how this went so wrong. Oreos are incredible. Oreos dipped in Milk are double incredible. Oreo O’s — which contains an incorrect usage of an apostrophe — are dirty water trash, because they taste nothing like Oreos. Why did they remove the cream filling aspect in favor of tiny little cream filling-flavored marshmallow flecks? Whose idea was that? They should be sent to jail.

Biggest Dark Horse: Honey Bunches of Oats

Honey Bunches of Oats doesn’t really offer much in the way of an appealing name, but they more than make up for it with flavor. Do yourself a favor and slice up some fresh strawberries for your next bowl; it’s the stuff dreams are made of.

Most Overrated: Lucky Charms

That’s right. I said it. Lucky Charms are gross and it’s time we all admitted it. Maybe Lucky hypnotized everybody, because I legitimately don’t understand what there is to love about this cereal. Those soggy little marshmallows that taste like a stale version of meringue? Those flavorless bits of toasted oat that show up at a 75/25 ratio? The disgusting marshmallow milk that remains at the end? No thanks to all of that.

Most Underrated: Krave

Why isn’t Krave more popular? Originally launched in Israel as “Kariot”, Krave is a chocolate-filled cereal that never feels too overwhelming or rich. And if you’re one of those freaks who refuses to put milk in your cereal, Krave still tastes great without it.

Best Post-Cereal Milk: Cocoa Puffs

Cocoa Puffs is a make-your-own chocolate milk kit.

Worst Post-Cereal Milk: Fruity Pebbles

Fruity Pebbles is a make-your-own rainbow barf kit.

Best Replay Value: Alpha Bits

Alpha Bits are fun, and if you don’t think so you’re a narc. You can write your name, spell out all kinds of hilarious curse words, and a million other things. Just keep your energy light, or you might start thinking about Hi Dad Soup from A Goofy Movie, and oh no, oh no no no no, ugh, great, now I’m crying.

How Did They Mess it Up: Cookie Crisp

Cookie Crisp seems to have taken a page from the Oreo handbook, because once again, I don’t know where this went wrong. A bunch of chocolate chip cookies in a big bowl of milk sounds like a sure-fire hit, right? Then why is Cookie Crisp so spectacularly missing the mark? You’re better off just putting a bunch of those Trader Joe’s chocolate chip cookies into a big bowl and pouring some milk over the top.

Might as Well be a Basket of Sticks: Shredded Wheat

Shredded Wheat should not be consumed by a human being. Breakfast cereal is supposed to make us feel like a bunch of little kids eating sugar, not like a bunch of cattle grazing on raw wheat.

Best Slogan: Reptar Crunch

Hey, every single cereal company ever, have fun coming up with a better slogan than “He’s big! He’s green! He’s just in time for breakfast!”

TO READ MORE OF THIS ARTICLE ON HIGH TIMES, CLICK HERE.

https://hightimes.com/edibles/foods/best-worst-stoner-cereals/

[betweenthescarletmoon]

Harassed

Aagghh, honestly I’m so flattered there were ppl who still liked and reblogged what I wrote. Here’s a better version of the fanfiction.

@pastel-virgil @archon-they-them @analogicalisreal @trotty-smithy-hornby @runningwithscissorsandstuff <p>

<p>In the Mindscape, Roman and Virgil were on the couch in the common room. The former was sprawled over it and taking most of the space, listening to Evanescence on his headphones, while the latter sat at the other end, looking into his hand mirror and frowning, and fixing his hair every ten seconds. It was relatively quiet and, if you didn’t know better, peaceful. Well, at least it was, until—<p>

<p>“Ugh, today was /horrifying/!” cried Roman with a nasal voice.<p>

<p>Virgil was startled out of his dismal reverie, somehow the shriek louder than his blaring music. He took his headphones off with a huff. “Do you mind?”<p>

<p>Roman scoffed and glared, but the actions lost their effects when he sniffed. Not like it mattered. Virgil hadn’t even glanced at him. “Not really. Though I /am/ very grateful that you hadn’t voiced your despondent thoughts, I’m not sure why /you/ hadn’t as well.”<p>

<p>Virgil deadpanned, then looked away to his phone. “I’m not into screaming into the universe about my feelings. So you’re sick. What’s the big deal?”<p>

<p>“You’re just going to dismiss what /else/ happened today?!”<p>

<p>Virgil finally maintained eye contact with Roman. He was baring his teeth at him. Virgil sighed. “Yeah, the guy was an asshole,” he admitted. He raked his hand through his hair, then shoved it back into his pocket. “You know, I have an idea. Why don’t you just watch a Disney movie and leave me alone?” he added sarcastically.<p>

<p>“Well, they can be distracting,” the other mumbled. He was probably speaking to himself. He kept quiet, and Virgil grabbed his headphones when he resumed speaking. <p>

<p>“Patton hasn’t made a sound… Is that worrying?”<p>

<p>Virgil mentally damned Roman. He was /this close/ to forgetting and ignoring about the invading thoughts. “I think so… Yep. It is.” He rubbed his face with both of his hands, then sat up.<p>

<p>“Do you think his emotions were wounded?”<p>

<p>Virgil deadpanned once again and Roman raised his arms in defeat. “We were all… offended by what that asshole said to us. You think Patton would just ignore what he said?”<p>

<p>Roman huffed. “I’m not the clever one. You know who is.” He paused. “It is normal for Logan to isolate himself, isn’t it?”<p>

<p>What was it with Roman worrying? Virgil shoved his thoughts— He wasn’t hurt from that, right?— down, knowing that he wasn’t nearly as fragile as the other. “Yeah. He’s probably just doing a psychological evaluation about why people are jerks in there.” He thought for a while, until he decided to ask Roman.<p>

<p>“You think we should check on Pat, or leave him alone?”<p>

<p>Roman looked to the ceiling. “We all know how easily desolate he becomes. I believe the former.”<p>

<p>He nodded. “Yeah.” He just realized they were both actually having a civilized conversation, and smirked slightly. But it immediately fell when the harsh words came back. He shook his head to snap out of it. “We should go to Thomas, I think.”<p>

<p>Roman stood, not as theatrically, but his body lilted somewhat to some mental song that seemed to be playing in his mind non-stop. “Well, we mustn’t haste. Let us hunt for Thomas!” He swung his arm to the distance, which was the wall.<p>

<p>Virgil cringed. “You make it sound like we’re gonna slaughter him.”<p>

<p>Roman groaned, his arm lowering. “Just when I was feeling more like myself, Chester Brennington.”<p>

<p>Virgil was on his feet in an instant. “Have some respect,” he hissed.<p>

<p>Roman cleared his throat, stepping away. He lowered his gaze. “I apologize. That was uncalled for.”<p>

<p>“Damn right.” His nostrils flared as he forced himself to breathe. “Let’s go before I punch you.”<p>

<p>“Agreed.”<p> <p>XxX<p> <p>They popped up on their host, who was watching The Office, sprawled in exactly the same position Virgil was earlier. He picked in the remote and paused the episode.<p> <p>“Yeah…?” he drawled. Yes, definitely there was something up with Patton. Thomas was not acting like himself.<p> <p>“We believe that not only Stressed and Depressed,” he swung his arm over to Virgil for emphasis, “is the cause for you suffering, but Daddy Dearest as well.”<p> <p>Thomas frowned. “Really?” They nodded, and he sat up, turning off the TV. “Patton?” he called.<p> <p>No answer.<p> <p>Thomas sighed. “I think you’re right,” he muttered. Then he raised his voice again. “Logan?”<p> <p>Said aspect appeared on cue, a laptop on his arms. He glanced at the others, who stared back at him, and then he shifted his attention back at the console screen. “Is there anything you need, Thomas?”<p> <p>Virgil cut to the chase. “We think it hurt Patton’s feelings. He’s not showing up.”<p> <p>Logan didn’t need anymore explanation. He shut the laptop and placed it on the coffee table. “Ah… Right.”<p> <p>“What were you doing there?” asked Roman, hands on his hips.<p> <p>“Is it any of your business?”<p> <p>Virgil’s eyes widened at the same time the overdramatic gasp resounded. <p> <p>“Woah, okay,” interrupted a scowling Thomas before it became a full on argument and/or rap battle. “I am not ready for /three/ sassy sides of myself, so calm down, alright?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Alright. So Patton isn’t here. Is he in his room?”<p> <p>Logan sighed. “We’re going to his room,” he stated dully. “That’s what this is about.”<p> <p>“Oh, hush,” snapped Roman, obviously still angry at the other for that… surprising comment. “I could live if you two could express a bit of sunshine, even if it’s only in his demesne.”<p> <p>Virgil scrunched up his face in utter confusion. “What?”<p> <p>“He means ”territory”. Demesne defines into territory,” Logan clarified. “Back to the point at hand; ”sunshine”,” he wagged his fingers like apostrophes, “means unbiased information. Can I leave you to it?” He directed that last question to Thomas with a fake smile, which really was as much pleading as he could muster.<p> <p>“Nope,” said Virgil, smirking a little. “We’re all going. Patton would want us all there.”<p> <p>Logan tisked. “Fair point.”<p> <p>“So, we all good, right? ‘Cause I’m taking us all there,” warned Thomas.<p> <p>The aspects answered with varying degrees of “yes”. Then they all sank together.<p> <p>XxX<p> <p>Immediately, Virgil noticed that Patton’s room was too bright, and he squinted, wincing. Even with the blinds shut and the lights noticeably dimmed, it was too much for him.<p> <p>As soon as his eyes could adjust, the first thing he noticed was the walls. They were painted blue but sometimes covered with colors of the sunset, interrupted by clouds. In a corner of the living-room-looking chamber was the sun. The ceiling was sprinkled with stars that would glow in the night. He wondered how Patton could sleep with such blinding illumination.<p> <p>Despite how… beautiful the walls looked, there was a whole wall covered with artwork: there were childish creations (Patton’s obviously), and there were slightly talented ones, and then there were those, almost professional-looking. It was all about Thomas and themselves. Virgil hadn’t known how much there was dedicated to him.<p> <p>He lowered his gaze to the coffee table, where there were various frames with pictures of them all. Most of them were ruined by Virgil’s evasion and hiding when it came to pictures, Roman’s extra pose, and Logan’s stiff muscles and blank expression while Patton hugged him. Yet they were still there, on display. <p> <p>But there was one, that was absolutely /perfect/. It was the day they won the Shorty Award for Best YouTube Comedian. He felt so valued that day, and Roman was /fanboying/, and Patton kept gushing about how proud he was of all of them, and Logan admitted he would probably never feel more accomplished with all their work. <p> <p>As soon as they entered the apartment, exhausted by all the euphoria, Patton demanded a picture. They all sat on the couch, with Thomas at the middle, and Patton made the /worst/ dad joke that made Roman (who was already suffering from the ”laughter attack”, as Logan decided to call it), cackle. This caused Thomas to follow suit. <p> <p>At the left of the couch, Virgil saw himself smirking at the camera. Roman spread his arms over Virgil and Thomas’ shoulders, looking happier than Virgil had ever seen him (not even when Thomas was a guest star at a Disney show was Roman as overjoyed). Thomas had shut his eyes, and if Virgil focused, he could see tear tracks caused by the laughter on his cheeks. Patton had done the same as Roman did, radiant. And Logan’s posture was no longer perfect nor rigid at the touch on his shoulders, and there was a ghost of a smile on his lips, but his eyes sparkled with pride.<p> <p>Virgil suddenly realized he had picked up the frame and looked into it as if it had the answers of the world, and immediately put it down, but gently. There was a mysterious clogging of his throat. It wasn’t caused by anxiety. He wasn’t sure what it was.<p> <p>He looked over his shoulder, and Logan stood two feet away, still staring at the picture now at the coffee table. <p> <p>“I had forgotten that day,” he admitted noncommittally. “I’m not sure how I could.”<p> <p>Virgil noticed something was wrong about him, but he wasn’t sure what. He decided to ignore it and chalked it up to paranoia. He glanced at the others, who still appeared to be marveling over the artwork and the walls.<p> <p>“Okay,” he started. “Where's—”<p> <p>“Hey, guys!” Right on cue.<p> <p>Everyone jumped at Patton’s sudden greeting, then stared at him. He grinned at them, oblivious to their worries.<p> <p>“Patton, where were you?” asked Thomas, when he realized the others had quieted. “I summoned you, but you didn’t come.”<p> <p>“I guess I fell asleep when you called,” Patton said, shrugging. There was something about Patton that was off, too. It frustrated him to no end to not know what it was.<p> <p>“Friend,” called Roman, which was strange. He never called anyone ”friend” unless he benefitted from it. “Are you well?”<p> <p>“Yeah!” But his smile strained. “Why do you ask?”<p> <p>“After what transpired today,” Logan tried to explain. “We thought you were not… all right.”<p> <p>His smile brightened a small amount, but then dimmed. “I appreciate it guys, but I’m fine, really.” <p> <p>“I think I speak for everyone when I say I don’t believe you,” said Virgil, then covered his mouth, not sure why that came out without his usual warring thoughts on wether to say it or not.<p> <p>Patton stared at him, then smiled again, as bright as before. “Why? Where did this come from?”<p> <p>But now, when he compared it to the gorgeous picture, Virgil could see the forgery, the perfect façade in that one smile. He’d seen it for years. His stomach dropped. How could he had believed that that was his real smile? <p> <p>Roman must have noticed too. He had tilted his head, frowning, his eyes… odd. He placed his hand on his chest, but not as dramatically as he usually did. “Are you certain you don’t know what we’re saying?”<p> <p>“Nope!” <p> <p>Logan had the same bizarre glint in his eyes. “We were all… affected by what that man said, Patton.”<p> <p>“Yeah, but I got over it,” he kept grinning. Fake, fake, /fake/.<p> <p>Thomas apparently had enough of his crap. “Talk.”<p> <p>“Is it so hard to believe that?” his voice broke at the last words, and that made Virgil’s heart twist in his chest.<p> <p>“/Talk/.”<p> <p>The grin was now a grimace, until it /crashed/. Shoulders sagged. Brows furrowed and eyes dimmed. <p> <p>/That/ was it. The emotion he saw on the other two’s eyes.<p> <p>“It’s really n-no big deal,” Patton stuttered, stubborn. Virgil had never seen this side of him, and he never wanted to again. “I’m not alright,” he spoke suddenly, but smiled wobbly /again/. “I’m half left.” <p> <p>The dad joke caused everyone (but Thomas), even /Logan/, to giggle, but their eyes were betrayed otherwise. Logan immediately covered his mouth, his eyebrows furrowing further.<p> <p>Virgil felt his heartbeat quicken. His face heated up. “Could you stop? For once?”<p> <p>Patton blinked rapidly in response. <p> <p>Virgil’s chest tightened. “Sorry,” he mumbled.<p> <p>“Morality.” Patton looked to Thomas, the others following suit. It is rare for him to call Patton that. “I said, talk.”<p> <p>Patton’s face twisted, and he placed his palms against his face.<p> <p>Roman stepped forward instantly, his arms stretched towards him, his hands opening and closing erratically. He was the only one who dared move from his spot. He took Patton’s hands in his and lowered them, showing the tears treading his cheeks. <p> <p>“Why would you hide from us…? Do you not… trust us?” The last words were almost whispered, Roman’s voice cracking slightly. Virgil saw how his moves were gentle instead of harsh, trembling instead of strong. Was he that hurt from that?<p> <p>Patton looked away, sniffing. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He closed it, then tried again.<p> <p>“He c-called us f-faggot and b-b—”<p> <p>“We realize—” Logan cleared his throat when his voice broke. “We realize that.”<p> <p>“No.” Virgil shrunk in his hoodie, loathing everything about this. “Let him.”<p> <p>“I thought he would stop,” continued Patton, his voice shaking as much as Roman’s shoulders. “I thought we could just walk away. F-forgive him or something.” He choked on a sob. “I couldn’t. I /can’t/.”<p> <p>Another sob, and then another, until they racked his body, and Roman and Thomas embraced him at once. Roman started sobbing as well.<p> <p>Logan turned away, took his glasses off, and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. His shoulders hunched over.<p> <p>Virgil sat (or collapsed) to the floor, the weight increasing and becoming too much. He remembered every single detail of everything he had done wrong. Every sign that the others could be hurting that he completely ignored. <p> <p>He had failed.<p> <p>He bit his fist, trying to block out the pathetic whimper that came out, but there was Roman, spreading his arm toward him. Reaching for him. Through the brimming tears, his cheeks widened into a smile, and he took it. Roman immediately pulled him to them.<p> <p>And for the first time, he melted into the many limbs that held him, sighing. Too many feelings to count swirled through his mind, but the only thing that made sense was the embrace. He decided to focus on that.<p> <p>Until he couldn’t. Thoughts invaded, and they weren’t the anxious, paranoid ones. Those he could handle. <p> <p>No. These were everything that made him simultaneously smile and sob, and that’s what he did. A headache formed and bile rose up in his throat. He pulled away, Patton and Thomas asking for him, but then he heard a bloodcurdling scream. <p> <p>He opened his eyes, only now realizing he had closed them. Roman gripped his hair, not caring for his appearance. Sweat brimmed on his brow. And out tumbled words Virgil never even /dreamed/ he’d say.<p> <p>“I’m so sorry.” He hiccuped, moaned. “I’ve done disgusting things to all of you. I’ve been cruel and /evil/—”<p> <p>“Stop,” pleaded Logan. Manic laughter suddenly escaped his lips, but they just as quickly turned to sobs. “Just stop.”<p> <p>Patton cradled himself, looking even more lost and guilty than before, and Virgil shuddered severely. If he saw any more pain in any of the others, he might as well pick up the knife and slit a vein.<p> <p>“I’m getting you the hell out of here!” yelled Thomas, his eyes wide, pupils dilated. <p> <p>They sank out in a flash.<p> <p>XxX<p> <p>They literally collapsed on the floor of the living room once they came. Virgil didn’t feel as desperate to… do /that/, but he still trembled, tears slipping out. He crawled away and curled on the floor, breathing heavily, trying to calm with the warmth provided by the hoodie.<p> <p>He heard a distant voice. “… not working!” The voice was freaking out. He didn’t remember why.

Patton’s own eyes watered at that one sentence, and he curled besides him. “I can’t believe you guys think I’m worth all that.”

“You are,” insisted Thomas, who rubbed Roman’s back. Now that the tears subsided a little, and Virgil could see clearly, he saw how disheveled Roman really was; his hair askew, his attire crumpled, and his face flushed. He clutched his chest as if his heart would fail from all the pain. Virgil could relate.

He looked over to Logan, who sat with his knees against his torso, his arms limp at his sides, his eyes empty.

Virgil sat up lethargically. “You okay?”

His eyes slipped to Virgil, but he didn’t answer. His lips formed another lifeless grin.

Virgil looked away. Seeing Logan like this was horrifying.

“Come here, guys.” Thomas smiled feebly, spreading his arms.

Patton complied immediately; even though Roman was two inches away from Thomas, he was second to embrace him. Virgil stumbled over and hugged them without the shame from before.

And finally, Logan came, his posture a little more controlled than before, and he sat with them, leaning his head on Roman’s back.

They stayed like this for what seemed like forever.

But it was nice. Peaceful. If a jerk was the cause of something that warmed Virgil’s heart, then he supposed he should feel a bit grateful.