#if you deny yourself the right to judge you deny yourself the right to critical thought

[isekyaaa]

Reading Novel Updates spoiler forums makes me so sad bc you see how bland and boring some people are in that they only want to read novels with perfect male leads that treat the main character with 100% politically correct and Twitter feminist approved respect. Flawed men are morally reprehensible in their eyes and are deserving of judgment and death.

[nattikay]

sure is interesting how the internet just loves to accuse Avatar of being a carbon-copy-ripoff of Dances with Wolves, Pocahontas, Fern Gully, etc. but never seems to accuse Dances with Wolves, Pochanonas, or Fern Gully as being ripoffs of each other. Surely if Avatar is exactly the same as all these movies at the same time then all those movies must be exactly the same as each other too right! But no, for some reason it’s fine when those movies share similar tropes and themes, but when Avatar does it, using those tropes is suddenly some lazy and derivative sin against storytelling, apparently.

Yes, Avatar does share a lot of themes and tropes with all these movies, no one’s denying that. But guys. Dances with Wolves did not invent the “going native” trope. Fern Gully did not invent “saving the environment from greedy villains”. Pocahontas did not invent “foreigner falls in love with a native”. It’s ok for more than one movie to share these ideas for pete’s sake y’all holy flip

Heck, you could argue that in some ways Dances with Wolves and Pocahontas are more similar to each other than either is to Avatar since they are both historical fiction set in North America centered around the native Americans vs the Europeans, whereas Avatar is a sci-fi/fantasy set on an alien moon six light years away where the humans have hyperadvanced technology and big robots and the whole moon is covered in a massive neural network that the locals can tap into at will using the biological usb cable that grows out of their heads. “it’S jUsT pOchAHonTaS iN sPaCE” SO WHAT? Telling a familiar story in a unique setting is not some cardinal sin against storytelling and I’m tried of pretending that it is. Maybe “a Pocahontas-type story but in the future in space with aliens and a whole bunch of unique immersive fantasy worldbuilding” is kinda a cool concept actually, there’s nothing inherently wrong with or “lazy” about it.

Sorry to suddenly go off about this, it just seems that whenever I see someone (outside the fandom) mention Avatar on the internet they seem to have this weird compulsion to make some dismissive disclaimer about how the movie is silly and derivative before they move onto the meat of their analysis (whatever that may happen to be), as if they need to justify their mention of it lest someone judges them for having poor taste and tbh I’m tired of it.

Avatar is fine. You don’t have to preface every mention of it with a disclaimer about how it (supposedly) sucks. You don’t have to throw in a snarky “oh God forbid, this movie” when you bring it up as an example of xyz. Especially when the most popular “criticism” that get tossed at it is as shallow and silly as “it shares some tropes and themes with some other movies”.

if Avatar is genuinely just not your cup of tea, that’s totally valid! Like any movie, it’s not gonna appeal to everyone and that’s ok.

But if your perception of it is “it’s bad because everyone knows you’re supposed to make fun of the dumb blue people movie, Big Reviewer YouTuber called it Dances with Smurfs and said it was lazy”, maybe think for yourself for five minutes

[heeseung64]

PERSPECTIVE

𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬.

SERIES, SMAU, ENEMIES ??TO LOVERS, MUTUAL FRIENDS, MUTUAL PINING, COMEDY, ANGST, SLOW BURN. MDNI.

contents.

07. RIGHT..

______________________________________________________________

written part below!

"here's my phone." y/n gestures her phone to sunghoon who catches his breath on the bench, wiping the beads of sweat and ice droppings on his neck.

"so you want me to take the whole routine?" he mumbles, followed by a grunt from y/n. "i mean, of course? how else can i see how good i got?" her voice echoes along the walls. the night is still bare and the morning sun hasn't peaked through, the sound of the ice being split and spun on where louder than their breaths- and the two remained at a grudge with each other; both with an equal grounding to the sport.

"alright whatever. whats the song you're going to play your free to?" he asks, going on his phone as he connects it to the girls pink mini speaker with stickers all over.

"don't judge me, but its called enemies to lovers by joshua kyan aalampour." she says, skating as she faces away from him.

he lowly chuckles, a smile cornering his lips, "classical? thats better than some song genres these days."

"whatever just play it, please." y/n turns, looking at the skates on her feet- waiting for the music to play.

sunghoon presses record on her phone as he lets the music start, watching her instantly snap into focus.

right foot, swing- yes. hook- yes, balance? perfect. sunghoon mentally took note of every move she made until he realised how much her demeanour had changed when the music started.

has she always been this good? he watches her, a good minute in and she's landed every move, every curve she made it was crisp, clean- her hair was in the way and yet with a breeze it all worked out.

sunghoon found himself watching her, truly, for the first time without a single ounce of criticism on his mind, and he found himself seeing just how good she really is. her expression ruled out her dance, and her fluidity, like no other. the y/n he faced before was nothing like this skater in front of him now.

"she's.. perfect."

as she glided upon the outer skirts of the rink, the sun decided to kiss her, and he found himself looking at her restless face. she then swiftly lands upon her jumps with her eyes landing on his.

flustered by the intimacy, y/n slips. causing her to knock out of it- but to no prevail, she regains it all, finishing til the end.

"how was it?" she heaves, running out to splat down the bench near him, as he chucks the phone on her lap. sunghoon had seen enough of what he saw, and he can't deny how much he liked it.

"i don't know, see for yourself." he says, packing his things, unable to look her in the eyes this time.

"no critique this time?"

"you don't need me here, that's for sure." he mumbles, mere feet away from the door.

"yeah right." she plays along, before realising he had already left. "park sunghoon?" she yells, before huffing back into her seat. as she pulls out her phone watching through the clips, she hears the mumbling of his voice upon the mic.

"she's.. perfect."

____________________________________________________

inbox for taglist <3

tags: @istglevi-gotmesimping

[skzftw]

Lose a Bet [18+ Imagination with Stray Kids]

Included: friend!Changbin, the gym, the sofa and stubborn characters

Sypnosis: You went to the gym to visit Changbin but it went wrong.

Words: 1.3k

(This is a smut so minors do not interact.)

At the Gym. With Changbinnie.

"Ufff," you groaned at the bench press.

You had an argument with Changbin that you can make 10 times through the bench but he denies that you were good enough for it. At first he was exercising at the gym alone and was not even inviting you to his hobby. You fought back like a 'me too movement' because you thought just a little of sport that you could do it like him. It went a little bit down.

"I think I won the bet, Y/N," Changbin suggested. He was behind you to help you with the sport equipment.

"T-two..." You stuttered. "No... w-waay! Agh!" You screamed. Your arms hurt and you let the barbell go. "You are cheating!"

He was surprised that you came to his gym that day and wasn't prepared for your confidence. He took only some weight away after you said that gym 'was made for you.'

"It is not even one a half time," he judged.

"I need water," you said and search the water bottle, grabbed it and choked it down.

"That's my water bottle..." Changbin spoke and sat on the area of the equipment. "So, Y/N... What do I get for winning the bet?"

"Hufff... I'll clean the house for you," you babbled and still drank from his bottle of water.

"I think so."

"Let's go to your home. I am tired."

He sighed but agreed to your idea. He picked up his towel and as well yours to throw it to you. Quickly he squeezed your arms 1-2 times to see whether if you have injuries. He just judged you of how it wasn't a good idea.

Later on Changbin drove you to his home. He agreed a lot that you clean for him. His house was an apartment for himself and he lived alone for a while now. It was rather clean and tidy than messy.

"Here's the mop and everything else," Changbin showed his cleaning equipments in the hallway.

You slam your tower on his shoulder. "I'm not your housewife!"

"I think you are not going to clean..." He criticized you again.

You blowed. "Pff! Of course I can clean."

You looked at the cleaning equipment. For you it seemed to be a difficult deal already. You picked a random cleaning liquid. "How do I start?"

"Wiping the dust off," he whispered to you while going very close to your ears. His lips almost touched the delicate part of your ear.

"Oh right... With which one?" You picked a random equipment and was about to start wiping but Changbin stole the thing away from you. You stared at his arm muscles. 'Woah so big...' you thought.

You touched a peek of his big muscular arm. Then he came very close to you. "This is not for wiping dust."

You sighed. "Then it does whatever! I am still sure that you cheated."

He raised his voice. "No, I am not."

You were about to pick up the equipment but Changbin took it away again. "Nah, give me something else."

You needed to hide yourself under his arms. "I-is something wrong?"

He suddenly touched your ass like as he wanted to slap it. "I've won a lot of bets already."

"Yeah, true. We should cancel the game," you suggested but quietly. Your hands were trying to get Changbin's naughty hand from you but it was already too late because he touched your bare back.

"I want to win something else! Your idea was bad."

"Okay, okay I believe you. My ideas were bad."

"I want sex."

"What?"

He laughed. "You can trust me." He hugged you once. "I was joking, idiot."

Then he lifted you to the couch and laid you there. "Make yourself comfortable."

"No sex?" You were confused.

"It is your decision, sexy."

You looked at yourself. Your sport attire was very thin and revealing. You hid your breast.

Changbin suddenly slipped and kissed you. Lips to lips.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

You kissed him back accidentally. He was quiet after the incident. You two found a position to make out. Changbin's lips were soft and kissable so did his tongue. He lifted your sport shirt with his hand and your bare skin was exposed.

Changbin canceled the make out by coming out from the position. "You taste so good."

He climbed down your body and gave your stomach a small kiss. His head then pushed through your t-shirt until he reached your bra.

"Can I take it off?"

"S-sure..."

He piled your bra to the upper side and then licked your bare breast that made you moan.

"I dare you to fuck me," he said.

"What? Is that everything I can win?" You asked.

He looked at you amazed. He also nodded.

You took off your shirt and your bra so you were only in your leggings. You took yourself over him.

"Your boobies are so cute..." He complimented your bare breast.

You posed your boobies for him. Inside down you felt his penis had twitched.

"Oops..." You flirted.

He laughed at you making jokes.

You leaned down to kiss him again. You bite his underlip, pulled your tongue in his mouth and stroke. Then you also took his shirt off. It revealed chocolate abs and huge muscular man.

You hugged him and he does it back. You shove your legs against his pants.

"Baby..." he moaned.

He knows that you are going to play him again so he held your hips with two hands and pulled down your leggings. You screamed. You wanted to hide your secret body part but it was too late.

He groaned at the view of your naked legs.

"Don't look at me," you commented.

"It's pretty nice though."

You also tried to take off his sweatpants but he already did it himself. This time you slipped on the couch and laid there.

"Can I fuck you?" Changbin asked.

"S-sure..." You stuttered.

He smiled at your answer. Changbin then kissed you for the last time before he laid his crotch in front of your pussy. He found your entrance and with his fingers he stroke it with one or two. He tried to warm you up. Your juice was covering all of his fingers as you moan quietly because of the neighborhood. Your view was pretty much your naked body and naked Changbin.

"You are so sexy," he complimented.

"Thank you," you answered.

"You're welcome."

He suddenly stood up to get a condom. He wore it as quick as he could and swiped it into your entrance. Your moan might be a little bit too loud for the neighborhood.

"Sshht..." Changbin warned. He was also aware of his thin walls.

He fucked your gracefully and you both tried to be quiet under the walls that gave nothing but unprotected privacy. The view out of the window was just the Han River and the city.

Changbin moaned and lifted one leg of yours on his shoulder. He digged deeper in your entrance makes it hard for you to breath out quietly. He held one of your legs up and sex you. He moaned loud as well.

"Ah," you groaned because of your leg and how he hits the spot perfectly. Changbin was a loud banger.

"I'm cumming..." You complained.

"Wait for me!" He raised his voice.

He banged into you faster and then as fast as he could. You couldn't hold it and came already. Changbin did the same into the condom.

"How was it?" he asked.

"So good..." You sighed.

"Yeah?"

"I want it again!!!"

Changbin rolled his eyes. "No..."

"Why not?"

You jumped up to hug Changbin. This time you win the bet for sure.

"Baby, it's night and you cannot be so loud. I need to give you after-care," he smooched your cheek. "You are so naughty."

He gave you an extra massage to calm you down.

"Okay, then not. I am sleepy right now," you responded.

"You can sleep with me, or should I bring you home?"

"I want to rather sleep with you, Changbinnie."

"Okay," he answered. He kissed you again. "Promised. I actually lose the bet."

[a-story-teller]

Seriously one of the most confounding things in the world is pop-Christian moralizing.

"Is ASMR ok for Christians?? 🤨🤔😧" I'm not sure in what world it would be sinful to listen to soothing brushing, ocean sounds, and tapping, yet someone felt the need to ask the question, and someone else felt the need to make a YouTube video answering it. (I didn't watch it, so I don't know the verdict, but somehow you're trusting the verdict to a rando on YouTube and not Discernment from God?)

"Christian facials" because having a hot towel on your face and putting on serum is in any way aligned with a religion or lack thereof, and therefore needs to/even Can be made Christian?

"Christian-friendly sex positions" and the only difference is it's stick figures instead of realistic drawings, and instead of male/female or penetrator/receiver, it's husband/wife. Because you know those goofy health-book illustrations were distracting you from the righteous goal at hand: eating your girl out. But you can't call her your girl, you have to make it clear to everyone seeing you have sex (which... is just the 2 of you, right?) that you're having Good and Not Sinful sex, because you, a Husband, are Married to your Wife. Side note: the stick figures actively make it harder to figure out the intricacies of any of the positions and therefore are objectively shittier at doing what they're made to do.

Christian soap, christian mints, christian calendars, christian music, christian curtains, christian fiction, christian restaurants, christian news, christian shops. There are things in the world that are OK being secular. The fact that your soap does not have an icthus sign etched in that washes away in 3 days anyway does not make you a bad person, or even a bad christian. Your home does not need something Christian™️ in every room for people (or yourself!) not to forget you're christian... I assume?

The king who must say he is king, etcetera. This kind of mindset is so boggling to me, and reeks of nominative faith and deeeeep insecurity. Retail therapy but instead of buying temporary happiness you're buying temporary grace. Being so beholden to the dogma of organized religion that you go to any person feigning authority on the subject rather than using your own brain to make a decision. The idea that things can only be okay to interact with if they're explicitly christian, as though interacting with it as a christian doesn't inherently put it through a christian lens; as though you can only get things trickled down to you from church authority figures with robust enough constitutions to judge what's ok for you because you don't have the ability to think critically; as though you should stay away from what's "sinful" rather than, LIKE JESUS, be able to go into it and be a good example; as though instead of learning to be capable of handling it, you should be as weak to sin as possible; as though you have to go through the world with kid gloves because touching something dirty would soil your soul (which, of course this implies, is sparkling - impossible, arrogant, and kind of denying God, lol [actually, not lol, I'm expanding on that. Denying God by refusing to admit your own sin. Denying God by refusing his grace because you won't admit your own sin. Denying God by acting like his power couldn't absolve something as simple as being exposed to sin, let alone if you did end up making a miatake. Denying God by keeping yourself in Good Christian spaces and not being there for people who need outside help. There's more but I digress]).

Also, the childish áffect of refusing to say things as they are because that would be bad, but referring to it in euphamism is fine - or, transversely, that using colloquialisms is bad, but medical speak is fine, depending on what breed of crackpot christian you're dealing with. "Hanky-panky" just say sex. "Adult drinks" just say wine, beer, liquor. "Flower" for the love of all that is holy just say vulva/vagina/virginity. "Breasts" is fine to describe your chest but "boobs" is not. You can say "buttocks" but not "butt". Discussing bathroom activities is decisively not cool but if utterly necessary you must say "urine" and "feces" because pee and poop are too pedestrian.

Like, entire side tangent, but the weirdly widespread christian-ism of not discussing things frankly or discussing them super detachedly, but both preferring to never discuss them at all, regarding anything "potentially sinful" or "not spiritually uplifting" (usually boiling down to "anything physical") is so whack to me. Do not discuss your period, even in female spaces, because it's tmi. Don't talk about your health issues if they're not Clean enough subjects, even as something to pray about (like breast/prostate cancer, shitting diseases). Don't ever talk about your sex life except to wiggle your eyebrows at your kids when they're old enough. Don't hug your male friends, daughter. Don't play with your little cousins, son. Sex is so so bad but everything is about it, actually. Sex is so so great which is why you should feel guilty about ever wanting it. All nudity is sexual. Dress so they know you're a woman but also that you're a lady. Fart jokes are not allowed. You must remember that all men are looking at you with lust at all times but you can't hold that against them. All things that get you sweaty or muddy are bad. Hair on women is unnatural but just dandy for men, except we can't talk about pubic hair so you're just going to have to figure out on your own if it's less sinful to not think about your vag enough to do anything to it or to ensure you're free of all sinful hair. Here's how to do makeup in a god-honoring way, because you couldn't know on your own, and you must both jump through this hoop to be acceptable to your men but not have enough fun and personal expression with it for it to become anything other than a chore. It is wrong to kill, which is why we support the troops. We are supposed to help the poor, which is why I drive past the beggars that are dirty and ragged and smelly. We are supposed to celebrate God with our bodies, which is why my most spiritually moved state equates to slightly raising my arms.

I can't close this post without including my oft-quoted favorite example of this weird-ass pop-Christian phenomenon translating to real-life people in real-time thoughts: my mom saying she had to take into account "which ice cream flavor is most glorifying to God" at a froyo shop. Either it's raspberry, or she chose sin that day.

[maxwell-mtv]

Being With Them [Pierre x GN!farmer(?)reader]

[NOTE: There will be three of these, but first is Pierre. It's up in the air on if you're the farmer or not, I like to try and keep these vague so everyone can attach themselves to these. But I know if you keep it too vague it can feel like there was little effort put into it at all. So, in this series of headcanons I like to present various relationship scenarios.

I may do other scenarios from varying perspectives in the future. Bullet lists of headcanons seem like good filler while I scheme up my fanfictions which I hope I may continue to produce despite my rampant depression and perfectionism.

I hope anyone who reads this enjoys! I always take constructive criticism and accept requests.]

CW: I can't say there's anything really of concern with this. Maybe some mentions or hints at trauma and depression, regret, divorce grief, and some borderline possessive behavior mentions.

CONTENT BELOW THE CUT FOR CONVENIENCE!

How it started:

💵 He'd be past his prime to say the least when he'd get around to meeting you.

💵 His wife has divorced him and he was like any other sad divorced dad whose daughter moved away to hardly, if ever, be seen again.

💵 But when you'd stopped in his little store for essentials, he couldn't seem to get that first interaction off his mind.

💵 He'd stay up late thinking about it and replaying the way you smiled at him, made that little joke, and how vivid his emotions felt watching you walk out with his goods in your hands.

💵 He knew from that very first moment he wanted to feel that way again.

How the connection formed:

🍂 Initial feelings aside, he would find you frequenting his store. He would knowingly read too much into every chat you two had.

🍂 He'd start to blush without meaning to when fumbling over his words.

🍂 He'd crack the worst dad jokes imaginable and still somehow manage to make you laugh along to them.

🍂 And if he wasn't mistaken, you'd felt the same way judging by those rosy cheeks and bashful smile whenever he'd stare a little too long at you (admiring your beauty)

🍂 It was impossible to deny that he had at least one loyal customer in the whole town of traitors and that was you.

🍂 He'd be remissed to not take the opportunity to ask you on a date.

🍂 Only he never managed that as one night it seemed Yoba himself had played you right into his hands. 

How it went:

🍻 You had visited the local Saloon on a random Friday night when you were too tired to cook for yourself. 

🍻 You were nervous going out to eat alone but when you'd seen that familiar, warm smile on Pierre's face you immediately rushed over to say hello.

🍻 You asked if you could take a seat with him since he looked to be alone too and he eagerly insisted you do.

🍻 Sitting next to him, he put your first drink of the night on his tab, and subsequently without telling you out your entire bill on his.

🍻 You two would get caught up in conversation after conversation, hardly taking notice to the wood in the fireplace slowly smoldering to black char and the occupants of the Saloon disappear one by one back to their homes.

🍻 You were completely blind to the world around you two as for once in way too long you found a companionship in simply sitting and talking with one another.

🍻 It was nice, refreshing to hear about his struggles and what he did to relax now as a late life bachelor. And he enjoyed listening to everything you had to say too, hanging onto every word.

🍻 It was this night that established you two as an unspoken, but official, couple.

Their shows of affection:

🧡 Pierre is a little old fashion in his ways. Even if you can get him to admit it, the only emotions he feels he's allowed to show are happiness or anger. 

🧡 It's the curse of being a man of his age.

🧡 So at first he shows his affection by making cracks at the qualities he secretly adores about you.

🧡 From quirks to your interests, he'll tease you about it relentlessly. 

🧡 Although you know it's how he shows his love by wanting an excuse to rile you up or just get attention from you, it's okay if you don't like it. 

🧡 And although he acts butthurt at first, if you simply bring it up to him he will stop.

🧡 He's a little touchy, but not overly.

🧡 He'll insist in public when talking to the townies that he keeps an arm around you whether at your waist or over your shoulders.

🧡 His most common stance will be leaning toward you, arm around your shoulders, with a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

🧡 He can be protective, sometimes a little too defensive, but he means well. Everyone knows he might be a little traumatized from the divorce (even if he did do it to himself) He's scared of losing you because of how happy and fulfilled you make him feel in his life.

🧡 He won't stop you from hanging out with friends, no matter their gender, but he will get upset if you use it as an excuse to dip out on helping him around his store. (It never gets past some teasing, guilt tripping comments which he lays the sarcasm on so thick you'd be stupid to think he was that upset.)

🧡 He's honestly just happy to have found someone who loves him the way you do.

🧡 And overtime? He does break that little curse of his. He eventually breaks down and admits how grateful he is for you.

Their downfalls:

⚠️ As stated previously, he is a little possessive or protective but not so much it's damaging to the relationship.

⚠️ He's old enough to know when enough is enough.

⚠️ But that won't stop him from acting like the human equivalent of a guard dog when you two are together.

⚠️ He'll insist on knowing where you're going when you go out without him.

⚠️ He does act rather childish at times, between the teasing and pouting, those are his two greatest flaws.

⚠️ He is also a little scarred from his divorce.

⚠️ He knows it was mostly his fault but he still won't admit it.

⚠️ He will often be up late at night wondering when it all started to go wrong and when he should have tried to do better by his now ex wife.

⚠️ He needs therapy but won't seek it (he thinks it’s fine, he's not)

⚠️ Pierre tends to focus on his shop a little too much and tries to price gouge to this day but nothing a little lecturing won't fix.

⚠️ He will use your body heat in bed to warm his cold feet.

⚠️ Sometimes, rarely, to this day, will still try to impose old gender roles before you scold him and he relents over his own ignorance (he gets better overtime)

⚠️ *cough cough* Beta cuck *cough cough*

Their upsides:

✅ In short, he is loyal, albeit dense when it comes to showing affection in the ways you may enjoy at times

✅ Though he'd never dream of it before the divorce, he will close up shop on a day other than Wednesday just to spend time with you if he feels he's starting to neglect you

✅ He won't hesitate to fist fight anyone who insults you or your relationship in any fashion

✅ He will pick the most gorgeous of bouquets from the suppliers catalogs not to sell, but to give to you

✅ He enjoys cooking you meals, it's one of the sure-fire ways he knows how to show his love for you

✅ And he is admittedly a great cook

✅ He'll even experiment with brewing so he can cater to your palette if you do drink alcoholic beverages

✅ He is not afraid of PDA as long as it's not tongue kissing in front of the whole town

✅ He will often swoop down and steal a kiss from you while on walks through town

✅ That man will make sure you know what a catch you are

✅ You will never have to lift a finger when it comes to manual labor so long as he's around (he enjoys showing off what strength he still has as an ex-boxer) This has, as a note, resulted in him pulling several muscles, which he insists he's fine after doing so. He is not, get that man an epsom salt bath.

Domestic Life:

🏠 Piecing together everything stated previously, plus a little more...

🏠 Domestic life is pretty normal

🏠 Pierre works the days in his shops

🏠 He's trusted with most dinners

🏠 You tend to make/get him lunches and bring them downstairs to the shop for him

🏠 Whoever is up first makes coffee and breakfast (unless you or him care to make breakfast for you both) tends to be a free-for-all

🏠 He buys you gifts and flowers for special occasions and special occasions only (he's still a little stingy with those things)

🏠 There is always some dessert in the kitchen for you two to share

🏠 It helps to have something sweet other than you to look forward to at the end of another hard day in the shop

🏠 You help out in his shop when you have time

🏠 He rarely tries to sell things on special holidays and festivals without clearing it with you first, now seeing the value in quality time

🏠 At night, you two sit at the couch in the living room and watch TV together

🏠 It's a humble life, all around, but comfortable and cozy

🏠 He still has his moments

🏠 There are times you need to comfort or console him for his mistakes in his last marriage and even his failed role as a father

🏠 And slowly you are warming him up to the idea of therapy

🏠 But other than that, he makes for a surprisingly good husband now

[chitty-chitty-bang-bang-bang]

“Corpse Groom” (Viago x reader)

Word Count: 1,128 words (sorry that it’s short)

Age restriction: 16+ (improper language)

Tags: angst, hurt/no comfort, a bit of crack (?).

Synopsis: You are paying the toll, for your reckless handling of your relationship with Viago

Author’s note: This is my first fic, so I’m open to constructive criticism!

Part two is here!

_____________________________________________

“Why am I here again?” You said, as two of your boyfriend’s roommates led you up the creaking stairs of their house.

“Silence, mortal.” Vladislav hissed out.

“You know my name, don’t call me ‘mortal’. That’s like if I called you just ‘undead’.” You followed them into a room that you hadn’t seen previously. It had crimson wallpapers with golden ornaments all over them and four portraits of the house residents: Viago, Vlad, Deacon and Petyr.

“We have no more respect for you, mortal. Not after your terrible crime. Sit down.” He pointed at the armchair, that was the only piece of furniture in the room, aside from a wooden podium, like one you’d use at debates.

“Seriously, guys, I don’t think we should be-“ You started, but got cut off.

“Silence!” Deacon yelled, already getting heated. “Let us begin the hearing.”

“The mortal, [full name]-“

“How do you know my full name?”

“Doesn’t matter. You are summoned here, by the vampiric council of Wellington, for crimes against our roommate Viago Von Dorna Schmarten Scheden Heimburg. You are accused of breaking his cold dead heart.” Vlad said in all seriousness. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

There was a long pause, as you collected your thoughts. It was hard to focus, when you are stared down by two very angry vampires. For the first time in a while, you felt unsafe with Viago’s friends.

“I have to say… that my and Viago’s personal life is not your concern. We can work with our own relationship, without outside… ‘help’.” You let out hesitantly.

“So, you’re not denying the allegations?” Deacon gripped the edges of the wooden podium.

“What I’m saying is you should stay out of our business. I don’t think Viago would like it either.”

“We can’t stay out of this. Thanks to you, our eternity is now more miserable than usual. You know how annoying it is to live in a house with a mopey vampire? It’s no joke, you’ve made all of us suffer and now, we will pay you back.” The Romanian man took a menacing step forward, making you lean a bit more into the chair.

“For your crimes against our peaceful domestic environment, you are…” Deacon took a dramatic pause. “Banished from our house and you cannot see or talk to Viago for the next hundred years!” He didn’t have a judge’s hammer, so he just put his fist on the platform instead.

“I’m sorry, what?” Your eyes widened. “In a hundred years I’ll be dead!”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Vlad shrugged.

“There’s no fucking way I’m living ‘till 132.”

“Even better.” Deacon stated. “Case closed. Shoo, human! Shoo!”

“What if I don’t?”

Both vampires started hissing loudly showing off the razor sharp fangs.

“Okay, got it…” You stood up and quickly left the house, mentally scolding your own cowardice.

‘Did it really affect him that much?’ You thought, as memories of your last interaction with Viago flooded back in.

Two weeks ago… Second of March…

You laid on the couch in pyjamas, with your arms tightly wrapped around a certain vampire, who was dressed in your shirt and pyjama pants. It was pretty late, around midnight, and you felt herself starting to drift into sleep, especially since the movie you guys were watching was boring as hell. Fucking “Mamma Mia!”. Though, Viago seemed to be highly invested in the plot, until he felt your grip on him gradually loosen.

“Lieben, you’re asleep?” He asked quietly, so that if you’re actually sleeping, he wouldn’t wake you up.

“Not yet…” You yawned and nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck.

“If you want to sleep, I can go. You have work tomorrow, right?” He turned around to face you.

“No, no… it’s okay. Let’s finish watching the movie.” You rubbed your eyes and tried to be more present.

“Okay.” He smiled and gladly turned back to the screen. ‘Take a chance on me! That's all I ask of you, honey’ sounded from the speakers of the old TV. “Soon we’ll get married like Sophie and Sky. I’ll turn you and we’ll have the whole eternity just for the two of us.” He whispered over the music.

“Oh… really?” Shit, you didn’t mean it to sound so offensive. Sleepiness was taking a toll on your sense of tact.

“Don’t you want to?” Viago turned to look at you, frankly surprised.

You really wanted to lie. You really wanted to tell him, that you’ll gladly marry him and spend the rest of your long ass existence together, but… you couldn’t. That’s not who you were and leading him on would be cruel. It was the time to break the news.

“Viago, I really love you, but… The prospect of eternal life doesn’t really amuse me. I don’t want to be turned into a vampire…”

He fidgeted nervously. “Oh… That’s… That’s okay. You don’t have to be turned into a vampire to marry me. We can still live the way we do…”

“And how would that work? I mean, I would grow old and frail and morbid. I’ll start forgetting things and… deteriorate. Would you really want to see that? Because I wouldn’t want to be like this in front of you. You, who will remain just as young and beautiful as you are now…”

Suddenly, nobody was paying attention to ABBA anymore.

“Then why are you with me?…” He wondered out loud. “Will you just be with me for a while, then leave to find someone human?”

Viago’s brows furrowed in a grimace of panic and discomfort as he fidgeted with the collar of your pyjama shirt on his neck.

“No! No… I-I… I don’t know. I was hoping I’ll figure out where we’re going with this, but I just found myself burying those thoughts so deep in me, that I stopped thinking about it at all. I want to be in the present. I want to be with you right here and right now, not in the future… I-… Please tell me you understand.” You gently cupped his hands in yours, tracing circles into them.

Once again, Viago learned the hard way, that humans belong with other humans. Not with him. He was suffocating you, taking away your precious time that you have so little of. The time, that you’d better spend on someone else. This led nowhere. He had to let you go.

He looked down at your hands and choked out a quiet: “I understand.” before turning into a bat and flying out the window, without even returning your clothes.

The same clothes you now saw lying torn up in the garden, outside Viago’s window, that was closed with embroidered curtains. You sighed heavily.

What a mess…

[disco-cola]

the antideutsche german „left“ is an absolute disgrace and judging from all the unfollows i got when starting to post about Gaza (i made some posts about Palestine before in 2020-22 but sadly and admittedly not as intensely yet and I’m guessing they didn’t see that yet) by people i knew from real life „antifascist“ circles i am wondering if i might have unknowingly spent 3 years being surrounded by this awful kind who in my opinion are lowkey even more dangerous than full fledged right wingers bc those you can at least recognize immediately and they are pretty open about their racist views whereas antideutsche make you believe they are antiracist and antifascist and then they turn around calling everyone and everything criticizing israel „antisemitic“ and show their true islamphobic and imperialist faces, even going as far as calling anti-zionist jews antisemitic… they refuse to divide judaism from israel and when confronted with this flawed logic they can turn pretty vile too.

anyway sadly there is „antifascist“ poser centers who have thrown people out for wearing keffiyehs (in Leipzig, namely Conne Island who have previously cancelled a black US rappers gig who said israel is an apartheid state and posting about BDS like they then called him antisemitic and they also hosted a self-proclaimed „islam hater“‘s book presentation) and holding „against antisemitism“ events while denying anti-zionist jewish people entry at the doors (in Berlin, namely ://about blank). also the rote zora in hamburg is a zionist center posing as leftist. the rote zora got occupied today by a group of pro-palestinian protestors, calling out their racism and white supremacy (because ironically these places almost exclusively are run by white German activists) and alignment with the state force used against palestine protestors including jewish people, Palestinians and other BIPOC. If you call yourself anti-fascist and your center gets called out and even occupied by immigrants, BIPOC, jewish people and communists, then you are anything but that. They so WHOLEHEARTEDLY deserve this. Free antifa from antideutsche for good!!! (Also just dropping this here but those places have instagram accounts we could collectively swarm and call them out in their comments just saying)

[randomfoggytiger]

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part IX): Mulder and the Two Scully Sisters

The last part of One Breath's Scully Family coverage is here.

Mulder is out of options; and Scully is certainly dying. 

“You know Fox--,” Melissa begins, conversationally in the cafeteria; but she pauses when Mulder raises with jerky back-and-forth movements. Recalling Scully’s earlier forewarning, she restates, “Sorry. Mulder.”

Mulder shakes his head at her, a combination of annoyance at having to politely listen and annoyance at also having to listen to her drawn-out rephrasing. He’d rather be incorrectly called “Fox” than have to waste time waiting for the correction. 

Melissa is frustrated by his vengeance shoddily veiled with apathy, her open expression dropping into older sister admonishment.

“You could… spend the rest of your life finding every person  who’s responsible and it’s still not gonna bring her back.” 

Mulder is heavily annoyed, staring her down and responding only with an exaggerated sigh.  

On first glance, in theory, or on paper, Mulder and Melissa should have gotten along. Both are open to extreme possibilities and believe they can communicate with ghosts, spirits, and (likely) aliens. Why they don’t is because Melissa lacks the critical, pessimistic filter Mulder judges his own theories by-- he is a very pessimistic man to beliefs he can’t or won’t swallow (ex. Scully’s faith and established religion.) Melissa’s harmonic boogaloo is one of those things; and he casts her willful optimism into the same light as negligible and irresponsible naivete. 

Melissa senses this; but she also senses his outright refusal to address his own leaking wounds or be there-- really there-- for his dying partner, denying them both that peace before she passes. She’s determined to stop that. 

“Whoever did this to her has an equal horror coming to them,” Melissa says. 

Mulder nods to himself, convinced he, too, is culpable for Scully’s death (which will be revisited in S5’s Kitsunegari.) “Including myself.” 

Pinning him with her eyes, Melissa freezes. Her appraisal is cut short by a third party interruption; but she still squeezes out-- with the classic skeptical Scully raised eyebrow-- “What do you mean ‘yourself’?”

The first hint of true Scully skepticism seems to have placed him in a more open, honest mood. Mulder responds more to straight talk, thinking Melissa's pretty phrases and kumbaya sentiments are phony and dismissible. For the first time he regards the other Scully with something other than tolerance, leaning forwarding and becoming more vulnerably honest-- softening his expression and curving his arms comfortingly rather than erecting them as a stiff, unpassable barrier. He even absently curls one of his hands in a simple, limp-wristed gesture of little-boy-awkwardness, a sign he’s intensely focused on choosing the right words rather than guarding his thoughts and feelings. After all, he has no place left to run; and the emotional turbulence Mulder feels is so great he’d rather confide in this annoying Scully sister (the pre-Queequeg, if you will) than keep company alone in his head. 

Of course, this almost-vulnerability is cut short by the next mission, the next lead-- like Mulder and Scully’s moment in the basement when he reads about Arthur Dales in an old newspaper article-- and he gets up and walks off in pursuit of vengeance. Melissa doesn’t stop him, watching silently as he makes his decisions (as she had for Maggie, post here.) 

Many a failure and pep talk and second chance later, Mulder sits in his apartment, revenge in his grasp, thirst for blood in his mouth. His trap is interrupted by a knock from Melissa. 

Side note: Mulder heard her knock and was about to shoot her. Melissa should have learned not to show up to federal agents’ dark apartments without expecting to catch a bullet. 

“Mulder,” she calls after several unanswered raps. When he springs out the door, disheveled and searching the hallway, Melissa swivels her head around, too. 

Seeing nothing, she decides she’s accidentally disrupted a very disoriented Mulder from his nap. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “I came by… you weren’t answering and your machine wasn’t on.” 

Melissa is shaky, a bit startled… but very relieved. She knows how devastating losing Scully is for Mulder; and, when she hadn’t heard from him for a few hours, she tracked him down (most likely learning where he lives from Maggie… which means Maggie knows where Mulder lives) and had to make sure he was alright. Which means that Melissa could sense how thin a string Mulder is held together by after Scully’s tether has been snapped. 

Mulder reads this genuine concern, and he looks down-- feeling for the first time a connection with this strange amalgamation of Scully’s care, Maggie’s paranormal tendencies, and (to him) plain wacko opinions. 

A hint of his guilt pops through: he feels for Melissa’s loss (keeping far away from his own feelings on the matter) but is combatting that regret with what he thinks is avenging justice for her, Maggie, and Scully. And he is very angry when she disillusions him of that notion. 

At Melissa’s “Can I come in?”, Mulder panics, not thinking of a response fast enough. 

Melissa’s suspicion radar is activated, and she scowls. “For a second?” 

Giving up, Mulder leads (read: jams) her in, swiftly shutting the door behind him. 

“Why is it so dark in here?” she asks, concerned. 

“Because the lights aren’t on.” 

Concern fleeing in the face of aggravation, she mildly responds, “Okay” and passes over Mulder’s pique. 

Straightening her posture and folding her arms in a “no-nonsense” pose, Melissa informs, “I just came from the hospital. Doctor Daly says…” 

She stops, mimicking another classic Scully gesture: sucking in her cheeks and rubbing her tongue across lips from stress.  

“...she’s weakening. It could be… any time. So I figured you’d want to come down and see her.” Looking down with filling tears, she prepares for an onslaught from Mulder. 

Which doesn't happen. 

“Well I can’t.”

Instant righteous Scully indignation-- the kind Maggie and Scully herself uses on a regular basis. It runs in the family. 

“Well, I think that you would.” 

“Yeah, well--” Mulder snaps, intent roiling under his pointed response. He falters, “I would--”; then hobbles over his voice crack with a definitive, “I can’t. No right now.” 

Melissa came on a mission of mercy; but it now dawns on her that Mulder is slapping that offer away willfully, more ready to dole out danger than to inflict it on himself. 

Anger building, she steps forward and mutters, lowly, “Listen. I don’t have to be psychic to see that you’re in a very. dark. place. Much darker than where my sister is.”  (As Scully told Luther Lee Boggs, “It may be a cold, dark place for you; but it's not for Mulder.")

Sidenote: Her "you're in a very dark place" is unintentionally on par with the humor of "the lights aren't on" because:

#1. He is morally and emotionally in the dark; but also

#2. Mulder is literally standing in a dark patch of the room. 

Melissa, despite drawing nearer to the darkness, stays in the light. She tries to reach through the shadows and engage Mulder’s disengaged morality (“Willingly walking deeper into darkness cannot help her at all. Only the light--”); but her speech only angers him more, as he twists her sweet words in saccharine empty platitudes. 

“Oh, ENOUGH--” Mulder yells, conscience pricked. But his frustration brings out more honesty: “You’re not saying anything to me.” Desperation taints his voice, a subtle plea: “make sense, make it stop” warring within himself while she talks.  

Melissa knows that Mulder doesn't want to understand; and, furious, steps firmly into his business for the first time and squares off: “Why don’t you just drop your cynicism. And your paranoia. And your DEFEAT. Y’know, just because it’s positive and good doesn’t make it silly, or trite. Wh..why is it so much easier for you to run around trying to get even than just expressing to her how you feel?”  

Mulder has been looking down, trying to shut away the truth; but at her last sentence, his head bolts upright. Before he can make a snappy rejoinder, Melissa cuts him off, refusing to let him break her eyeline while forging ahead on the steam of disappointed indignation.

“I expect more from you-- DANA expects more.”

Again, Melissa speaks for her sister (post here), relaying her messages in the present tense, confirmation that she’s spoken at length with her dying sibling.  

Mulder looks away once more; and she huffs, storming off towards the door. On the tail of his relieved sigh, she spins back and sends a parting shot: “Even if it doesn’t bring her back--”

Mulder shifts his eyes down again, spoiling for a fight (but restraining himself with a clenched jaw.)

“--at least she’ll know. And so will you.” Melissa sweeps out the door, not giving him room to even react. 

After another jaw clench followed by a door slam (and a hard lean to prevent him from breaking it down and screaming after his unwanted visitor), Mulder retreats back to the dark. 

But not for long.  

The right decision and a preemptive bout of mourning later-- the first time Mulder has broken down about someone other than his sister-- he answers the Scully call, expecting to hear of his partner’s death… and is overjoyed when told she’s woken up. He joins all three Scully women at the hospital, bearing gifts and a clear conscience. 

The loud click and squeak of the room door startles Maggie and Melisssa, and pulls Scully into awareness. While she slowly shifts her head, Melissa bounces from the chair, hoping Mulder will take her place by sinking into it. No such luck-- he’s not ready to be observed in his hospital vigils yet (he will by Redux II); but his smile lights up the whole room as he tugs a little gift behind him (ala the charm in Fresh Bones, the keychain in Tempus Fugit, and the doll in Empedocles.) 

“Hello, Fox,” Maggie coos, blissfully serene. 

The first thing Scully says is a correction (because of course it is): “Not ‘Fox.’ Mulder.”  

Beaming, she pops open her eyes with a cheeky grin on her face; but dials it back into as close to her own signature, serious expression as Scully can manage, her shirked Starbuckian duty-- lack of evidence for "Ahab"-- weighing down her joy. 

An important point: this is the first “Mulder” smile-- besotted, appreciative gazing-- that is shown in the series. Before now, he shared S1 smirks and S2 grins with his unacknowledged crush; but now he beams unabashedly raw emotion in triumph o’er the grave. He is in love; and he knows it. 

The first thing Mulder says is his concern (because it always has been): “How ya feelin’?” 

Scully swallows, searching his face. “Mulder, I don’t remember anything.” A rare woman Scully is: wakes from a coma, fears her partner’s disappointment, but level-headedly gives him the truth, anyway. Taking a winded, bracing breath, she tries to get her words out, but starts hasten and stumble over them after mentioning Duane Barry (her eyes flinching and her words shoving together.)  

“Doesn’t-- doesn’t matter,” he assures, shaking his head to dismiss the topic. He does, however, clench his jaw, a sign he’d caught how desperate Scully was to reassure him she’d done her best. It’s sad and telling how focused she is on not failing him, even on her own deathbed (which will be revisited, again, in Redux II.) 

Mulder has already chosen Scully over the Truth by sitting at her deathbed; but this is the first time she sees him make that choice. She nods; then closes her eyes to collect herself.  

As Mulder sweeps out his celebration gift-- Superstars of the Superbowl (a “we won, Scully! We beat the odds in the game of life!” flourish)-- and earns a “I knew there was a reason to live” from his partner, Melissa watches from behind, framed as a benevolent angel keeping guard as her two charges fumble around and titter in their newly realized love and glee. When he starts to walk off without the important words said, Melissa leans her head back against the post, fondly exasperated at the two of them. 

Scully, gaining a second wind, steps up to the bat. “Mulder….”

Melissa tries and fails to keep a smirk off her face as Mulder spins around, his feet sweeping loud circles on the hospital floor. At Scully’s measured “I had the strength of your beliefs”, two things happen with him at once:  

#1. Mulder self-consciously peeks sideways at Maggie to see if she’s aware of his private conversation the night before (or if she’s read between the lines, destroying his subtlety. Hint: Maggie figured out his feelings in Ascension-- post here-- and Melissa took one look at his middle-school-crush hair and oversized jacket and closed the case.) 

#2. Mulder quickly jumps from “I had the strength of your beliefs” to Scully’s cross, having kept himself afloat with the strength of her beliefs. Remembering that he has it in his pocket-- a personal talisman-- he reaches in and tenderly hands it back. 

A bonus third point: 

#3. Melissa hadn’t known he’d been the necklace keeper; and she plainly shows her surprise as the proceedings go on. 

Maggie is touched, melting in her miracle and rewarded trust. 

Scully discerns that this is her necklace, and immediately turns to her mom. The two hold a silent conversation-- the mother still tying religious value to the gift that her daughter does not-- and Scully is comforted (in an ironic way... and aware of that fact) that nothing has changed. She then turns back to Mulder; and the two stare silently at each other.

Mulder stops himself from further, heartfelt words, reminded that Maggie and Melissa are there-- and are staring like hungry vultures. Getting shy, he slithers off (but not before getting a full view of Melissa’s big, plastered, satisfied smirk.) 

Overall, Melissa Scully and Dana Scully are two very different women; and Mulder is probably the most thankful man on this planet for that fact. While he gives Melissa her due, the two are oil and water; and between her and Bill (who we will get to), family holidays would probably have been a very... interesting time.

Mulder recognizes, however, how right she was in this circumstance; and that her persistence made him admit to himself his love for Scully, taking a massive step forward in his emotional growth. Without Melissa's influence, Mulder's "gazing" wouldn't be to the same degree that we recognize as part of his character. Not only that, but he would also have missed out on a powerful, life-changing (and, for Scully, life-saving) lesson.

And thus ends One Breath.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[rabbitcoveredinmoss]

Killer x Cannibal AU with Ghost and Soap

Warning(s) - Cannibalism ,  Blood , Death , Swearing (Ghost is Bri’ish, it's only natural) , The smallest mention of Ghost’s childhood

Thank you to my friend for giving me this idea, luv u <3

I can’t think of a creative title for this lolz

This ain’t proofread

Kind of a headcanon list, kinda not??

——————

▸Soap and Ghost’s (platonic)relationship was rocky with each other at first, Ghost being super hard on Soap but with some help from Price they got it sorted out

▸Not too long after Ghost started noticing Soap acting different, getting nervous and fidgety around him, avoiding eye contact. Ghost was a little slow in figuring out why but when Gaz told him it made sense

▸Ghost thought it was kinda funny and he eventually caught feelings as well, of course denying it whenever someone brought it up

▸It was after a very demanding mission where everyone on the team had gotten decent injuries. Soap had the most critical injuries out of all of them, the doctor telling them if he got in any later he would have died

▸Ghost surprised himself with how much he cared about Soap condition, spending most of his time healing time with Johnny

▸The evening had been spent with boring card games. Soap still being demeaned bed-bound by the doctor

▸They had just finished another game, Ghost groaning when Soap collected all the cards and started shuffling them again

▸”Isn’t there something else we can do? I’m sick of these boring card games” Ghost complained

▸”The doc says he can’t let me go yet. I've been sick of these cards since day 1, but there’s nothin’ else I can do. I keep bringing you in here to try and cure my boredom but you ain’t helping one bit. I’m debating kickin’ you out here for good and pickin’ one of the other boys” Soap replied

▸”You're calling me boring McTavish?”

▸”Yes L.T”

▸”Nothin I can do to make this all worth your while then?”

▸”There’s one thing I can think of but I don’t think you’d ever be able to bring yourself to do it”

▸”Oh really?” The eye space in his balaclava showing as he raised his eyebrows

▸”What exactly is it that you want me to do?” Ghost asked scooting his chair forward, getting closer to Soap’s torso

▸Ghost watched as Soap started to stutter and his cheeks turn rosy

▸”I uh,,..”

▸”Hmm? Speak up”

▸Soap paused, breaking eye contact and wiping the sweat off the back of his neck

▸”I want you to kiss me”

▸Ghost was expecting the answer from Soap but it still took him by surprise 

▸The silence from Ghost made Soap get really embarrassed, motioning him to get up and leave but it was interrupted by Ghost kissing him and then getting up and leaving

▸”Wha, Where you going?!” Soap called out

▸”It’s late, get some rest McTavish”

▸That night lead to Ghost and Soap starting their relationship only a couple weeks later

▸The relationship was kept a secret of course, Soap was real good at hiding it but Ghost kinda gave it away sometimes. He just couldn’t help hovering around his partner, making sure he was safe

▸Gaz was quick to figure it out

▸Price had a hunch but he wouldn’t believe it until either of the boys personally confirmed it

▸The lovers didn’t get to spend too much time together in the beginning but when Price gave them both a break from work, Soap suggested that one of them spends the break at the other’s house

▸Ghost refused to let Soap come over, he had many things scattered around his apartment that he worried Soap would judge him for and end the relationship over

▸Soap was oddly nervous about Ghost being in his home. It was a small house on the very edge of a small town. It was nothing special but that was done on purpose, to hopefully be out of the radar of enemies

▸Soap was more nervous than when he first developed his crush on Ghost. But Ghost brushed it off, saying it was just because this was the first time he would see where he lived but his suspicion grew again when Soap denied him to enter the basement

▸It was one of the houses where you could see the basement start and the windows peaking out right on the ground level of outside. All the windows were blocked with pieces of cardboards

▸The two things were suspicious on their own, but when Soap would disappear for nearly hours at a time, either heading straight to the basement or leaving the house for a bit then sneaking back in through the back door and into the basement.

▸The sneaking away didn’t happen often but enough for Ghost to notice

▸Ghost wanted to give his lover the benefit of the doubt but he could help but be curious

▸Ghost woke up in the late hours of the night, he was big spooning Soap who was fast asleep. Ghost carefully got out of bed, not wanting to wake him. He got up and walked over to the bathroom and when he was done and got out, he waited outside the door. Ghost wanted to know what was in the basement but Soap guarded the door like a hawk. But he was asleep right now, he wouldn’t know

▸Ghost carefully walked over to the door, he tried it but it didn’t budge. Soap must’ve had a key somewhere

▸He searched for keys around the house, trying them on the door if he didn’t knew what they did

▸He was willing to give up but when he walked back into the shared bedroom, he saw a key sticking out of one of Soap’s pants pocket. 

The pants had been discarded and thrown on the ground when they first got in the bed together

▸Ghost walked over leaning down and reaching for the key, before he picked it up he checked Soap, making sure he wasn’t awake. Soap wasn’t so Ghost picked up the key and walked back over to the basement door

▸He placed the key all the way in and turned it and it unlocked

▸Ghost slowly opened the door, careful for if it squeaked. And when it didn’t Ghost stood at the top of the stairs, looking down into the darkness

▸He spotted a small night light lighting up the bottom of the stairs and the faint outline of a light switch

▸He started to take the first step but he briefly heard noise coming from the bedroom. He quickly stepped back and closed the door, throwing the key behind a pile of stuff on a table nearby

▸Quietly walking back to the bedroom and leaning on the doorway. Ghost watched as Soap frantically searched his pants pockets, gasping when he noticed Ghost was watching him

▸“Looking for something?” Ghost quietly asked

▸”Uh,, no….. Well yes. I thought I had put something in my pockets but I guess not. Must’ve put it somewhere else. Nothing serious enough to worry about though” Soap answered 

▸”Good. You can worry about it in the morning” Ghost said as he climbed back into bed, pulling Soap back into spooning

-

▸It was the last week the two had together. Soap had disappeared again and Ghost sat mindlessly watching the T.V

▸He was pulled out of his daydreamy state by loud noises coming from the basement. Sounds like things falling over and something attempting to shout out in pain but quickly being shushed

▸Ghost had thought someone had broken in and was now hurting Soap

▸He rushed over the door turning the knob. He wasn’t expecting it to be unlocked but brushed past it as he rushed down the stairs

▸When he got to the bottom of the stairs he quickly looked around, pausing when he saw the open area

▸It was all cement floors and walls. There was a table off to one of the walls, it was metal and had blood stains all on the top flat surface and wall mounted cupboards not too far off to the left. On the opposite wall was an old green couch and a just as old coffee table not too far in front

▸Looking closer revealed more blood stains. On the handles of the cupboards, on the ground, couch, and coffee table. Just basically everywhere

▸Of course all the blood could’ve been Soap’s but Ghost was too panicked at the sight of blood and the lack of Soap

▸Ghost quickly scanned the rest of the room, seeing a small hallway with multiple doors

▸He rushed over trying to closest door, calling out to Soap and when he didn’t answer moving over to the other doors and doing the same thing

▸The last door he tried opened and he flung the door open, moving to enter the room put pausing in the doorway

▸In the middle of the room was Soap sitting on the ground, strangling a stranger who was fidgeting between his legs. His hands and half of his upper arms were drawing in blood, as well as his mouth and chin and dripping down his neck

▸The area connecting the shoulders and neck on the stranger was gushing with blood. They were shirtless and Ghost could see chunks of flesh missing from they’re chest

▸Ghost could see the stranger attempting to reach for him, pleading for him to help them, but before Ghost could do something Soap had quickly moved his hands and snapped the strangers neck, pushing their now dead body to the side as he stood up

▸”Please please let me explain” Soap pleaded as he fully stood up, raising his arms up towards Ghost

▸(Ghost would never admit that the sight of Soap all covered in someone else’s blood would be hot)

▸”What the fuck is this!? Is this what you’ve been fucking hiding down here all this time!? Are you running a fucking morgue or something??”

▸”Okay I know this is weird, but uh-..You said I could talk to you about anything right?? You’d be willing to try and understand?”

▸”When I said that cannibalism wasn’t on my mind”

▸”Yeah well your promise still counts!.. So,. please”

▸Ghost was surprised at Soap’s change of tone and posture. He meant it when he said cannibalism wasn’t on his mind when he promised he’d stick by Soap’s side. But Soap was right about him also saying that, no matter what it was, Ghost would be willing to listen and try to understand

▸Soap looked hurt and embarrassed about the situation and Ghost couldn’t bring himself to hurt him and break his heart

▸Soap slightly picked his head up, looking at Ghost and giving him the biggest puppy dog eyes

▸It worked

-

▸Ghost didn’t remember a whole lot past that point, his extensive childhood trauma giving him some memory loss. It's not that he needed to remember but he felt a bit frustrated when he was murdering some poor soldier to bring back to Johnny and he couldn’t remember why he was doing it

▸It’s not that it was a surprise he was willing, Ghost wasn’t the most sane person

▸Ghost also found himself, confused? He was happy to bring his love fresh human meat to eat?

▸Ghost knew if anyone found out they would surely both be put in a mental asylum

▸Before Ghost had agreed to bring Soap bodies to chew on, Soap was able to go a couple days, maybe even a couple weeks, without needing to cave in on his craving. But Ghost spoiled him

▸When they had to go back to their work in the military, Soap would take along a small-ish thermos stuffed with as much flesh as he could cram in

▸Soap could only take a small bite everyday, making sure he had enough to last him through until he could go back home. But if Soap’s craving got bad or he started to run out, Ghost was very willing to,. put another soldier on permanent leave iykwim

▸And so the lovers spent their days with a dirty secret. One a murderer and the other a cannibal

▸(Ghost would also never admit that he’d tried some human before, and may or may not have liked it)

——————

My gay heart can’t get enough of these gay boys

Uhh merry christmas <3 (im not late you are)

[whentranslatorscry]

Chapter 4 Kakushidate Yakusuke Listening (1/3)

1

Think of the children: this exalted pretext seems to pass easily, and I think the truth of it lies somewhere around what Kyouko-san said. One could argue a decent point of view whenever they want to go against the grain, and those feelings might just be jealousy towards the pure and unblemished innocence from adults who have experienced failure. It is not to be denied, neither is it to be affirmed.

When it comes to the right to freedom of expression, things get even more complicated. It is easy for parents to say, “If you read manga too much, your grades will go down,” which is a typical example of an opinion that does not reflect reality.

Of course, reading manga all day long will not help your grades, but not because manga is bad. You can’t read manga and expect to get good grades. You have to make a commitment to study instead of reading manga.

Games and sports are the same, in that, fundamentally, anything that is not studying is a distraction from studying.

On the other hand, if you study too much, you will have no time to play. Thinking only of your grades means that you will lose your communication skills, to say nothing of the other problems you will encounter, you may even end up committing crimes.

As you must study if you are to read well, so you must read manga if you are to become a manga artist.

2

I’m not saying this to be mean, but the creator of the problematic manga "Cicerone," Fumoto-sensei, was a totally different person than I thought. I had heard that he was so depressed by this incident that he wanted to give up his pen, so I imagined him to be a delicate, sensitive, maybe even neurotic man. But in the Sakusousha meeting room, I saw him as a hundred times more capable and reliable than me, and he was well built too.

At first glance, he looked nothing less than hearty.

Having met Satoi-sensei before, I had the preconception that manga artists, being freelancers, didn’t care about their dress, but perhaps because he was meeting strangers Kyouko-san and me, Fumoto-sensei was dressed smart yet casual; his rich beard seemed not so much grown out as neatly groomed.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Fumoto Shun, manga artist.”

The way he spoke, the tone of his voice, he really did come across as a very tough guy. But if you judge people by appearance then I, being over 190 centimeters in height, should give you the creeps.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Okitegami Kyouko, forgetful detective." 

Kyouko-san, unlike me, showed no sign of fear as she handed out her business card with a coquettish smile and bowed her white-haired head respectfully. She then turned to Kondou-san standing next to Fumoto-sensei and introduced herself in an identical manner. 

"Pleased to meet you. I’m Okitegami Kyouko, forgetful detective. I appreciate your faith in me. I’ll do my utmost best.”

On a first formality she scored a hundred percent, aside from the fact that it was their fourth meeting. Naturally, Kondou-san was not surprised at all and he returned a flawless greeting.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Kondou Bunbou, editor-in-chief. Please make yourself at home.”

And everyone sat around the long table in the center of the meeting room.

As a guide or as an intermediary, if you think about it, my job was over when I brought the two together, so I did not need to attend this meeting. To make matters worse, as a stranger I ought to have known better than to miss my chance to leave at this point.

This is a rather sticky problem, not to say a matter of internal office politics, so looking at things from Fumoto-san’s place, he might have liked this giant man who came from nowhere to leave the room… I felt a bit guilty about it. Though with my critical fractures I was obviously involved in this incident. I couldn’t really call myself an outsider now.

Another way of looking at it is me being an indirect victim of Fumoto-sensei’s manga—which was all the more reason to tread carefully so as to not touch on any sore subjects.

As for Kondou-san, he probably just wanted Fumoto to retract his resignation—hope that my presence here won’t create unnecessary pressure on him—though it’s possible his thinking was the exact opposite and the reason he allowed me to attend is precisely to pressure Fumoto.

He’s that strategic of a man.

Otherwise, he could not have climbed to the position of chief editor so young. 

It is naturally possible that he simply enjoyed the idea of coming to work with Kyouko-san… While I was thinking over it, Torimura-san, Kondou-san’s subordinate and Fumoto-sensei’s editor, came in with tea. She put a teacup in front of everyone, and when she took her seat, Kyouko-san immediately got down to business.

“Now, with regard to Kondou-san’s commission, I would like to explain what I consider to be the malaise you feel.”

The fastest detective, as good as her word.

Still, as I had been thinking about this matter since the morning, I felt that it was about time that it was made public. But, just as I held my breath ready for the detective to reveal the answer,

“Hold on, please,”

Fumoto intercepted her—an unthinkable act in mystery novels, breaking off the detective’s speech. But he particularly probably couldn’t stand being left out of the conversation as it moved on without him.

"I don’t know what Kondou-san told you, but I… I think we're good already," he said.

“Mm? You're good already?”

Kyouko-san counter-questioned, seeming to not take offense despite her mystery-solving being cut short—a bit as though playing dumb.

She might have her considerations… like trying to avoid possible complications with him.

"It's just... It might sound like I'm throwing in the towel, but since I'm retiring anyway, there's no need for a detective to work on it," he wanted to say.

"Fumoto-sensei, this matter still…”

Kondou-san was about to offer some consolidation when Fumoto-sensei,

“I understand how unfair this is to you, Kondou-san and Torimura-san, but I think I have to take responsibility. A reader of my manga tried to commit suicide—I can’t be at peace with that. I can't just keep drawing manga as if nothing happened."

"......"

He poured out his words like a machine gun. This was not a momentary lapse of emotion, I felt a strong determination. It was something that someone like me, who lacked resolve most, naturally has no right to speak of, let alone anything to say.

But why though?

His talk of bearing responsibility even came off somewhat irresponsible, and there was a sense of relief in his voice about not being able to continue drawing manga, though it was a bitter decision to make.

"I came here today to give a face to the editorial department that looked after me… Please understand, I have come to a point with manga…”

“Fumoto-sensei!”

This time Kyouko-san interrupted him, the conversation now a battle for dominance.

Her cry had startled him, and he turned to face her.

“I had the chance to read the latest issue of ‘Very Well,’ and it was absolutely wonderful!”

She said it with a smile of pity.

“The theme running through the whole work is really wonderful. The challenge was to depict despair and the future through the medium of teenage comics, and I think it was successful. The content is, of course, excellent, but what impressed me more was the attitude of the author. Though it is written for children, it is a fiction that adults can enjoy.”

“It, it’s really… thank you.”

He seemed to be taken aback when he was suddenly praised for his work. He bowed his head in bashful acknowledgement.

Looks like the preview reading paid off…

I’m not sure if I can take Kyouko-san’s sentiments at face value—it was the same with Satoi-sensei, Kyouko-san is ultimately a detective in the service industry, so it goes with the territory that she more or less possesses the worldly wisdom of having to pay a compliment or two in public.

Without accumulating memories, she’s surprisingly worldly-wise. However, there is no point in pulling a rambling lie here, right. So her feelings about the work should really be positive.

As it turned out, because I ran to the site to search for evidence first, by the time I arrived at the publishing company, it was already very close to the time we had agreed to meet, so I didn’t have a chance to look through Fumoto-sensei’s works at all, and I was just sitting there.

But it seems Kondou-san’s assessment of Fumoto-sensei—very talented, with a bright future ahead of him—was far from exaggerated.

It is for this reason that Kondou-sensei was pulling out all the stops—even hiring a detective—hoping for Fumoto to rescind his retirement, too.

“I’ll be very sorry if I don’t see a follow-up to the manga, and the children will be disappointed, and some devastated reader will surely go jump off a building again!”

Kyouko-san said those shocking words in the same calm tone she used for her praise, and the strong malice implied in the word “children” hit me like a bolt from the blue. But it was Fumoto-sensei who was most shocked.

“How do you propose to take responsibility for that?”

"T-That is..."

The question, thrown out as if nothing had happened, was full of malice, forcing Fumoto-sensei to cast a plea for help at Kondou-san.

He seemed to want to say, "What's with this person?"

The answer was just two words: forgetful detective. A person who could get on anyone’s nerves because she forgets by the next day.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s a sure thing,” Kondou-san said with a bitter smile.

As he had entrusted Kyouko-san not for the first time, this kind of conflict was probably within his expectations, and he perhaps enjoyed this sort of bohemian atmosphere even more.

So this man was more tolerant than he seemed.

“It’s just that readers really won’t accept your resignation without a word! Personally I still hope that you will consider your influence.”

“I am considering my influence…”

Fumoto rallied his spirit to respond.

“I hope you’ll forgive my candor, but I never thought about it when drawing. I should have considered it earlier. It’s my fault for not considering it. I love manga, I’ve read them since I was a kid, and that’s what made me want to become a mangaka, but I really should have been more aware of the impact they have on readers. It was careless of me not to consider.”

He said it so solemnly that I could hardly argue with him. In fact, this was an unavoidable aspect of art.

“Even in baseball there’s risk of getting hit on the head by a pitch,”

Said Kyouko-san from the sidelines.

This time, completely ignoring Fumoto’s promise of reflection.

“Say you believe that 'a sound body produces a sound soul’ and take judo lessons. You may die in an accident during judo practice, or you may be late for class and get run over on your way home from tutoring. The risk of being run over is higher at night. Wherever they are, children are at risk of dying. Manga is not the only thing that has a dangerous impact.”

“…You want me to brush this off, like it’s nothing? A child of twelve jumped off a building because of my work—and you want me to act as if nothing ever happened?”

Positively enraged, Fumoto-sensei leaned aggressively across the long table, posing this question to Kyouko-san. I would have been crushed by this pressure, but it was no wonder that she was still keeping her serene face.

“Since I am not a creator, I cannot provide an apt solution to your problem. But if I were in your shoes, I would never have done nothing,”

She replied solemnly.

“I would bear this in mind and then apply the experience to my future works.”

“……”

Fumoto-sensei remained silent and still, slowly retracting himself back to his original position, stunned. Kondou-san also appeared shocked by her response, his eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. Her statement was too bold, and even I as an outsider found it hard to agree with. Nonetheless, how much she really meant what she said was unknown.

It felt as if she deliberately introduced an extreme argument to swiftly terminate the debate. At any rate, the forgetful detective was able to keep the situation under control with this.

“So, Fumoto-sensei, don’t say you don’t want to pursue this any further. Please listen to what I have to say, listen well and try to comprehend it thoroughly. Now, Kondou-san.” She turned towards him.

"Please show me the contents of the suicide note that the girl left behind.”

3

This is suicide in the name of suicide

Dying for the one I so dearly loved

To fly off is to become an angel.

Please, do not grieve for me

And bless my completion.

Defer this death of mine

To my Cicerone

Fumoto Shun.

4

The police only allowed Kondou-san to see a photocopy of the will, and forbade him to make any further copies or take any photographs, so the above text was written from Kondou-san’s memory, and so it could not reproduce the original handwriting of the middle school girl—however, the memory of Kondou-san, not being a forgetful detective but a capable editor, can be considered reliable.

Incidentally, the handwriting of the suicide note was judged to be poor in an unbiased assessment, and the illustration said to have been attached at the end quite rough.

Well, to say that a girl's handwriting is beautiful just because she is a girl would be prejudiced—bad handwriting in children is just normal.

More problematic was the unambiguous mention of “Cicerone” and “Fumoto Shun”: there seemed to be no hope of different interpretation that could be read into it.

“The lines are practically quoted from the manga, she just copied the initial five lines verbatim,”

Said Kyouko-san mysteriously with a nod.

“Honestly, I can’t imagine what kind of character the middle school girl is just by reading this. There’s no individuality coming through.”

Perhaps thinking it inappropriate to mention the name of the jumper girl in front of Fumoto, Kyouko-san refrained as she shared her impressions. But her blatant omission of the name kind of further erased the girl’s individuality.

“That’s not important at all… What’s important is that a student imitated my manga and wanted to become an angel." 

Fumoto-sensei said in self-depreciation.

He probably still hadn’t recovered from the bombshell Kyouko-san had dropped—his voice, though faint, still held his point.

"To become… an angel…?”

“Yes, Miss Detective, everything you said makes perfect sense. As an artist, if I—but I’m not that great a person. I became a manga artist simply because I can draw and like manga—please don’t expect so much of me. I have no such noble ambition in my heart.”

I just do what I want to do, without too much thought behind it—Fumoto-sensei went on, and he was completely indifferent to the meaningful nod from the girl in front of him.  

It seemed that he was addressing not only Kyouko-san, but Kondou-san and Torimura-san as well.

“You know as well as I do that sometimes the state gets carried away and tries to intervene for censorship purposes, but there are those big names who stand up and speak out for the sake of freedom of speech, aren’t there? Comics are on a plateau, manga culture is declining… things like that. But I don’t think every mangaka has such high ideals. I only became a manga artist because I like reading and drawing manga. I don’t have the perseverance to keep drawing when people hate me and insult me. I don’t think I’m doing anything as grand as promoting culture. If I'm doing it because it's interesting, I should stop when it's no longer interesting. ...Honestly, I don't think regulation is all that bad. It's not as if the manga from the past, when expression was more free, are necessarily more interesting than today's manga. Isn't that just like what the old folks say, that the past was better?"

Hard to argue with that, coming from the mangaka himself. Personally, I felt that Fumoto-sensei was the one who was now in a plateau—even so, my objection was too superficial.

Censorship is not the devil.

That much is certain.

Prev | Next

[iamyoursinblog]

New Character p. 1

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: pwp

Word Count:  1.1 k

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New Character: [1] [2] […]

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“How long are you going to write about him?”

You froze in fear in the middle of a dark studio when a deep voice came from the darkness. You slowly reached forward to turn on the bookshelf lights. Your eyes widened when you saw Kim Namjoon sitting in a chair.

"You?! Why are you... How did you get here?” You looked at him in the hope that it was just a hallucination.

“Didn't you make an appointment for me at the studio? Why are you so surprised now?" he chuckled in his usual way.

"What? Me?" You stared at him. “Wait…” You shook your head, remembering the reason you came to the studio - meeting with the new editor. You surprised yourself when you suddenly burst out laughing. "This can't be real..." You tried to calm yourself by taking deep breaths. Why, of all the people on this damn planet, he should be the new editor.

“You didn't answer my question,” he said, breaking the silence.

Well, yes, how could you forget... no greetings, no pleasantries, just a cold tone and his questions like insults - that's who Kim Namjoon was. You last saw him in high school and after so many years absolutely nothing has changed... “I don't know what you mean.”

“All your characters are the same. Is it because all your characters are written about Jung Hoseok? If I didn't know you, I would think that you still can't stop loving him"

"You do not know me!" you snorted.

“So you don’t deny that everything you wrote, you wrote about him?” He got up from armchair and walked over to the bookcase. “Then it's understandable why all your works are so boring...” he said quietly, looking at your printed work lying on the shelf, as if he was just thinking out loud, and not talking to you.

“Who are you to judge what I write?!” you shouted angrily, holding back your last strength not to throw your phone at his head.

“Your new editor,” he replied calmly, turning his head in your direction.

“Why do I need an editor who can only criticize?”

“Doesn't the editor's criticism make the writer a better writer?” he asked thoughtfully, returning his gaze to your stories. “I thought you were ready to become better since you’re looking for a new editor,” he shrugged and walked towards the armchair he was sitting on with a slight smile. Taking his bag, he walked past you to the exit, and left your studio without another word, leaving you in deafening silence.

You angrily threw your bag into thecarmchair where he was sitting, hoping that this would somehow tame your anger. You haven't seen each other since high school and you didn't even know he became an editor, but he acted like you only saw each other yesterday. Although ... he was always like that, you thought, and sat down at the table opening your laptop. You continued to take deep breaths in an attempt to regain your composure. But what you saw on the screen pissed you off even more.

You re-read the description of the main character of your new story again and realized how right Namjoon was... Without noticing it all this time, you continued to write about the one you most wanted to forget.

☆ ☆ ☆

High school

☆ ☆ ☆

"Who is it?" you asked your friend when you saw a new (and very beautiful) face in a crowded school hallway.

“This is the new guy who transferred to our school,” she said as she continued to read her book.

“So this is it, our new number one...” you said looking at him with interest.

Since the day Hoseok transferred to your school, you haven't looked at anything or anyone else. As soon as he appeared in the room, your eyes were riveted to him. Handsome, smart, funny, athletic - the best in everything. Therefore, no one was even surprised that you started dating him, he was number one among the guys, and you were number one among the girls. First love is the most beautiful thing that can happen to every teenager in high school.

The last year of high school has flown by unnoticed for you, especially when at the end of this year you received such a gift in the form of your boyfriend. You were in seventh heaven because you had everything. You planned the perfect future with the perfect guy who loves you and who you love. You were even going to apply to the same university. I wonder if your couple will also be the number one in university. You smiled broadly at the thought.

“Congratulations,” a cold male voice pulled you out of your dreams.

You got up from the bench on which you lay looking around the empty stadium. Kim Namjoon, you're the last thing I need, you thought to yourself as you met the same cold look as his voice. During high school, this might be the first time you ever heard him talk to anyone outside of class. The dark aura of a cold handsome boy with a mysterious character clearly did not attract you. "You talking to me?" You looked at him in surprise, raising an eyebrow.

“Is there anyone else here?”

“Make sense,” you smiled as you realized that the stadium was completely empty. “With what?”

“With the first place in the literary competition,” his congratulations were more like a mockery.

“Hmm, this is not the first time I have taken first place in a literary competition, it is strange that you decided to congratulate me this time. Thanks anyway.” You rolled your eyes. Too weird as ever to understand what was going on in his head, you thought as you picked up your bag from the floor.

“This time it was a well-deserved victory,” he said in a calm tone, and simply turned around and left, leaving you standing with your mouth open in complete bewilderment at his words.

“What a moron…” you muttered under your breath, heading in the other direction, not wanting to meet him again by chance.

What a terrible day. First you met Namjoon who made you mad. Now you couldn't find Hoseok anywhere and for some reason he didn't answer your calls and messages. What is going on?

"What?!" you stared at your friend with your mouth open in shock. “Repeat what you just said?”

"Yes, it's true. I just spoke to the teacher. Hoseok is leaving soon to study in another country, this morning he took his documents. Didn't you know about this?"

You shook your head. Someone says that it's just some kind of bad dream. Please someone wake me up. You grabbed your bag and walked towards the exit. School was the last place you wanted to be right now. You kept texting Hoseok, but there was no response. You made it to Hoseok's house as quickly as you could. But before you rang the doorbell, you got the answer that changed everything...

I'm sorry... let's done with it...

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New Character: [1] [2] […]

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[insideintheupsidedown]

The New Girl in Hawkins High (Chapter 1)

Sorry for the lame title. It’s my very first stranger things smut series. English is my second language so don’t judge me too much. I might also sound very repetitive and boring, but give me some credit please. If you like it, I will take more and more effort to make it better! Thank you guys, for anything, criticism, compliments, sharing, following, likes, suggestions, in advance!! ❤️Also it might take me awhile but I will make sure to make it as adventurous and as dark and as creepy and as realistic to stranger things, and their characters as possible!

P.S I INCLUDE PICTURES, I don’t know if you’re into it, but I’m sure there are people who are visual just like I am! If not I’m sorry for ruining it for you! 😘

Summary: You’re the new pretty girl in Hawkins high school who happens to be also very smart, you meet lots of interesting students. Some guys will have interest in you, some will want to take advantage, some will want to protect you. And you most definitely will end up in the darkest of adventures.

Creepy!Crazy!EddieMunsonXFeminine!GoodGirl!Reader,

Flirty!SteveHarringtonXReader,

Mean!Creepy!Andy(Jock)XReader,

Bully!JasonCarverXReader

Word count: 1,452

WARNINGS:

🔞NO MINORS! GUYS THESE SERIES WILL TRAUMATISE YOU! SO SKIP IT, STAY INNOCENT. ANGST, Fluff, pet name calling (sweetheart, doll, babe, angel), detailed smut (p in v) unprotected, anal, spit, choking, slapping, name calling ((slut, whore, dumb, bitch, stupid)) groping, fondling, fingering, fishhook), noncon, denied orgasm, urine play, vines ((tentacles)), creepy, gross, stalking. If I’m missing anything let me know! 😘

For your first day in Hawkins high school you decided to wear a white pleaded skirt, baby pink polo shirt, white flat Lacoste sneakers and an oversized denim jacket, school was only 10 min away from where you lived so you decided to walk.

As you’re making your way to the main entrance you look around, scanning your surroundings. Seeing some of students in the parking lot smoking, others are getting off the bus rushing inside. It’s quite crowded and no one seems to really notice the new face, except for some students that walk right past you. Girls are whispering something into each others ears, possibly gossiping about you. Guys are checking you out from head to toe. It made you feel a little uneasy at first, but you’re trying not to think too much about it.

You know you’re a pretty looking girl, you take a great care of your appearance, your hair is always washed and done, skin is smooth, smelling fresh, you wear high quality clothes, manicure pedicure done, you have a great posture, you walk in small light steps with your head high, swinging your hair from side to side.

You spent hours at home, doing 5-6 steps of facial routines, yoga, reading books, and reorganizing your stuff. It was a way of distracting yourself from reality. Taking care of your physical appearance and mind is what made you feel confident, like you’ve got some sort of control over your life.

Despite of your personal life, falling apart after your parents got divorced, mother chose her new boyfriend which you couldn’t stand being around to, she decided to stay in Los Angeles. And you decided to fly out to Hawkins with your father to start a new life in a little house in suburbia.

As you’re making your way through the main entrance door of Hawkins High, you look around through students, trying to make your way past them to the lockers. You take the key out of your oversized denim jacket pocket. Checking the number of your locker “110”.

115…116… crap.

You get slightly embarrassed, you’ve been walking forwards so confidently now you have to turn around and go back since you’ve missed your locker. You smile to yourself a little and turn around, walking back in shame till you find the locker with number 110 on it.

“There it is” you whisper to yourself. Unlocking it and opening slowly, finding a textbook laying there in the dark, you pick it up to see who’s it is

“Heather Holloway”, hmm I better take this and give this to one of the teachers.

Unzipping your back pack, you put it inside while taking your other books out and neatly putting them inside your locker. As you close your locker, you get scared by a broad figure leaning against the locker next to yours. A gasp escapes your mouth “Oh jeez… you scared me”

??? “Hey new girl, this must be your first day in this school” he stares at your face, giving a little smile

“Hey, yes it is” you respond with the same little smile while locking your locker, and bending down at your knees to pick up your backpack off the floor. You do it ever so quickly and smoothly, since you’re embarrassed by the thought of your face being in the same level as this guys crotch. You stand up straight looking right at him

??? “Well maybe we could hang out during our break time, me and my boys will be hanging out in the lunchroom, pretty girls like you are always welcome to sit with us”

You giggle a little and he couldn’t help himself but smile more at your adorable little giggle

“I’m flattered, we’ll see about that, but thank you”

??? “You know we’ll tell you all about this school, which students are safe to hang around with and which you should avoid, also I don’t think I’ve asked for your name?” He leans a little closer to you, invading your personal space while having this little smirk on his face

“Y/N” you bite your bottom lip slightly while shying away “A..and you are?”

??? “Y/N, I like it, it’s beautiful just like you are…-“ he leans closer to your blushing face before someone else cuts him off

??? “Andy, come on man, we need to go!”

Andy gently slams with his palm against the locker out of frustration.

“I guess I’ll see you around then Y/N, and don’t be a stranger” he gives you a quick wink, and a cheeky smile before he walks off with the blonde guy.

You watch them as they go, pretty cheerleaders accompanying them, you’re checking out their uniforms, noticing a basketball ball logo patch on the right side of the sleeve of their varsity jacket. Making an observation, they’re playing basketball, they’re the cool, popular guys. It gave you a little ego boost to be approached by one of the cool jocks.

Didn’t expect this school to have more good looking guys than my previous school.

Just as soon as they disappeared in the crowd of other students, bell rang, which brought you back to the reality. You rushed through the corridor trying to find your history class, it didn’t take you too long, before you entered inside, you took a deep breath in, you really hoped there was an empty seat next to someone nice and not a creep or a bully. As you walked through the door you were relieved to see that all of the students were loud and busy getting their stuff out of their back packs, they haven’t really noticed you yet, you took a little time to scan the classroom to spot and empty seat next to a tall girl with a brown messy bob. She was sitting in the last row next to the window. You slowly walked towards her. “Hey” you approached her “Is this seat taken?” She looked up at you somewhat spaced out, and confused

??? “Yeah.. no, I mean hi. It’s available, I’m Robin. And you’re new here?”

She gives you a warm smile as you sit down next to her taking your books out of your backpack “Yes I’m new, nice to meet you Robin I’m Y/N”

Robins cheeks get a little reddish,

“So, don’t take this the wrong way but you’re like hot, I mean really hot, you probably already made new friends, I mean of course you have, unless everyone was intimidated by your looks, which I would be, but our jocks probably wouldn’t miss an opportunity to get you to know you, and you know I can see that you could easily become one of the cheerleaders, I’m sorry I can’t seem to shut up..“ she runs her fingers through her hair nervously.

You watch her ramble with a smile on your face, she’s such a pure and genuine soul “Thats okay Robin” in fact it was more than okay, you were so lucky to be sitting next to such good spirited person “I haven’t made any new friends yet, there was this guy who approached me before and that’s pretty much it”

Classroom gone silent, as history’s teacher began the lesson, you felt students instead of paying attention to the blackboard they were staring at you. You sat up straight, facing forward trying not to mind these curious eyes.

You liked history it was interesting but you were more of a science kind of girl which nobody knew about that because you liked to keep it to yourself. You were a bit of a nerd. Hot nerd.

History class felt extremely short since you had Robin next to you, talking and talking about some of her friends that you should meet, especially Steve Harrington with which she has worked at the “Scoops Ahoy” at the mall before the fire broke out. And now they’re working at the “Family video” store together, they’re like platonic friends with a capital P. She knows so much about him since they’ve been through a lot, so she thinks you could be a pretty fun and hot distraction for him.

“Hey, since the class is over, would you like to come with me to meet some of the people I know down the lunchroom?” She starts packing stuff, while inviting you to join her in the lunchroom nervously

“Id love that Robin, but someone already asked me to join them during lunch break, but I’ll see what I can do, now I have to go to the bathroom, excuse me” as your rush off, before you exit you turn around and yell out to her “but it was nice meeting you Robin!”

[burningtheroots]

I‘d like to say some things about the trans debate.

As I said in a previous post, I think that blindly hating trans people on the basis of being trans is *not* the point of radical feminism, and I don‘t support baseless mockery. Just in case someone feels the need to accuse me of something else. My focus is on biological and scientific facts, and the influence all of this has on our lives, especially women‘s lives.

Radical feminism should and, when done correctly, *does* focus on the gender critical part and every other aspect evenly. It shouldn’t take up all of the space, but it also shouldn’t be brushed aside. Trans folks are a minority, but nowadays, women‘s lives, rights and experiences are shaped by the ideology behind it (I‘m not talking about individual people who are actually dysphoric, I‘m talking about gender ideology and the TRA movement). We are silenced for speaking up, get our sex-based rights and safe spaces taken away, our reality is denied and has to cater to it and if we don‘t play along, we receive violent threats decorated with the most misogynistic slurs you can imagine. Gender ideology can‘t exist without sexist stereotypes and misogyny, and that‘s where we clash.

We do NOT want anyone to get bullied, attacked or assaulted on the basis of being dysphoric or trans or both. We just don‘t want the female sex class, our innate identity and biological, material reality to be erased. You can present and express yourself however you feel best, but don‘t claim to be a woman (or a man, respectively) when you‘re not. Sex is a biological reality, whereas gender is socially constructed around the two sexes two ensure a hierarchy, which we want to abolish. Ultimately, gender ideology is one of the things that harms women around the world the most, especially when the meaning of womanhood and the female sex becomes redundant due to it.

Abolishing gender also includes abolishing "femininity" and "masculinity". Everything associated with them should just be human. Reinforcing these concepts is NOT the solution and increases actual dysphoria. Of course, I acknowledge that we live in a world where these constructs are established, and I don‘t judge someone for struggling with in and trying to navigate through it. I think as an "inbetween" solution, we could refer to it as "traditionally/stereotypically feminine or masculine" (or a better term which points out that these constructs exist and affect us, but are still false and misleading).

Gender dysphoria isn‘t the same thing as sex dysphoria, and gender dysphoria is solvable through the abolishment of gender altogether. Sex dysphoria, however, is strongly tied to it (children who are dysphoric begin to feel this way when they learn how their sex is perceived). We don‘t want children to undergo surgery and hormonal treatments, and we think that it should be acknowledged as the psychological condition it is. That doesn’t mean that, when you‘re an adult and serious treatment (not the famous "we don‘t want to put in the effort so we just go with the dysphoria, not against it" approach by many psychologists) hasn‘t changed your dissatisfaction with your body parts, you‘re not allowed to change it. If you eventually come to that conclusion, then do it, but cutting off healthy body parts as soon as a mental problem arises is ethically problematic.

Now this might be even more controversial, but we need to acknowledge that surgery doesn’t create actual genitals of the opposite sex. Calling it a vagina/vulva (or penis, respectively) as if it’s the same is offensive in many ways. A vagina is a working, complex organ which serves multiple purposes and women‘s reproductive system has been used as the basis of their oppression, objectification and dehumanization for thousands of years. Surgery which helps you to feel more comfortable in your own body is fine, but comparing/equalling it to women‘s actual genitals is not. Vaginas and vulvas are not an aesthetic, cannot be surgically replicated for what they really are and are not a product for therapy. It simply isn‘t the same and women are allowed to say this and want it to be recognized.

Yes, you might call me a "TERF" or think I‘m far from reality, but believe me … it‘s simply what it is. If you think this is hate speech or a call for violence, please sit back and try to see past your emotions.

[bumpytoad]

Why is appearance and style fair game to severe criticism? If you look at a Picasso painting and maybe the art style isn't for you, would you call it "stupid" and think Picasso should have never expressed himself? No, because that would be ignorant. But when someone looks a certain way, they can be hated and pressured constantly to change, even though to them that expression truly reflects who they are. And folks think that it shouldn't matter to that individual, to knock down their self-expression, and that they should just change if they don't like how they're treated. But this isn't so -- expression has a deep meaning. It's a big part of identity. It's one thing to not like something for yourself, but it's bigoted to not like it on someone else, especially if you make a big soul-crushing stink about it. It ruins one's self-esteem, especially if the individual considers this to be an IDENTITY they have that is connected to divergent flamboyant physical self-expression. Have some respect and empathy. It's a matter of what's right and wrong. Autistics also may look very different from the mainstream standards based on our interests and what makes us comfortable. Don't deny us our right to self-expression, and yes, judging us is cruel to the utmost degree. It's just as bad as any other form of prejudice that exists. Just as hate speech makes it difficult to feel free and safe, the attacks on self-expression through appearance make it difficult for that expression to exist for the same reasons.

[thehlaw]

What to Expect During Your First DUI Court Appearance in San Diego?

If you've been arrested for driving under the influence (DUI) in San Diego, the legal process can feel overwhelming. One of the most important steps in your case is your first court appearance, often referred to as an arraignment. Understanding what to expect during this stage can help alleviate some of the stress and confusion you may be feeling. In this blog post, we’ll guide you through what happens during your first DUI court appearance in San Diego and how a criminal lawyer San Diego can help you navigate the process.

1. The Importance of Your First DUI Court Appearance

Your first court appearance is a critical part of your DUI case. It is the first time you will have the opportunity to formally address the charges against you in front of a judge. The main purpose of the appearance is to enter your plea, either guilty, not guilty, or no contest, and for the judge to set a date for the next phase of your case. It’s important to remember that this is just the beginning of the legal process, and the outcome of this hearing doesn’t necessarily mean you are guilty.

2. What to Expect During the Arraignment

Here’s a step-by-step guide to what typically happens during your first DUI court appearance in San Diego:

A. The Judge’s Introduction

When you first enter the courtroom, the judge will typically call your case. If you have a criminal lawyer in San Diego, they will stand next to you as your legal representative. If you don’t have a lawyer yet, you will be expected to represent yourself, though this is not recommended. The judge will explain your rights and the purpose of the proceeding.

B. Reading of Charges

The judge or the prosecutor will formally read the DUI charges against you. This will include details such as the type of DUI offense (e.g., DUI with a blood alcohol concentration (BAC) over 0.08%, DUI with drugs, or DUI causing injury) and any enhancements (such as prior DUI convictions). It’s important to listen carefully to ensure that the charges are correct.

C. Entering Your Plea

At your first appearance, you will be asked to enter a plea to the DUI charges. The options are:

Guilty: Admitting to the offense as charged. This plea can result in immediate sentencing, but it’s rarely advised at this stage unless you have already consulted with a criminal lawyer in San Diego who has reviewed all the facts of your case.

Not Guilty: Denying the charges and requesting a trial. This is a common plea if you believe the charges are incorrect or if you wish to challenge the evidence.

No Contest: You do not admit guilt but accept the punishment as if you were guilty. This is also known as a "nolo contendere" plea and can sometimes be used if you are unsure about your case or do not want to drag out the legal process. It is important to consult with a criminal lawyer in San Diego before making this decision.

In most DUI cases, especially for first-time offenders, a not guilty plea is entered during the initial hearing, and the case is set for further hearings or trial.

D. Bail and Release Conditions

In some cases, you may have already posted bail, and the judge will confirm that you are released from custody. If you haven’t posted bail yet, the judge may set the bail amount or decide on other release conditions, such as sobriety monitoring or a restriction on driving. Depending on the circumstances, the judge may also ask for additional conditions like staying away from alcohol or drugs during the case.

For first-time DUI offenders, bail may be set relatively low or waived, depending on the severity of the charges.

E. Setting Future Dates

During your first appearance, the judge will typically set future court dates. This could include a pretrial conference, motion hearings, or a trial date if the case doesn’t resolve beforehand. You may be asked to return to court at least once more before your case is concluded. It’s essential to keep track of these dates and follow any instructions given by the court.

3. The Role of a Criminal Lawyer in Your DUI Case

While your first court appearance may feel like a straightforward process, having a criminal lawyer San Diego by your side can make a significant difference. Here’s how an experienced DUI lawyer can assist you:

A. Protecting Your Rights

A DUI charge is a serious matter that can have long-lasting consequences, including hefty fines, license suspension, and even jail time. Your lawyer will ensure that your rights are protected throughout the process. They will also explain the charges and potential penalties you face, so you can make informed decisions.

B. Helping You Enter the Right Plea

Your lawyer will analyze the details of your case, including any evidence such as breathalyzer results, field sobriety tests, and arrest reports. Based on this review, they will advise you on whether entering a not guilty plea is in your best interest or whether a plea bargain may be appropriate. If you have a strong defense, your attorney may even work to have the charges dismissed.

C. Negotiating Plea Deals

In many DUI cases, especially for first-time offenders, plea bargaining is a possibility. This means your attorney may negotiate with the prosecution to reduce the charges or penalties you face. For example, if you are charged with a DUI with a high BAC, your lawyer may be able to negotiate for a lesser charge or alternative sentencing options, such as community service or rehabilitation programs.

D. Investigating the Case and Gathering Evidence

Your lawyer will conduct an independent investigation to gather evidence that could help in your defense. This may include reviewing the arresting officer’s report, questioning witnesses, or hiring experts to challenge the accuracy of the breathalyzer or field sobriety tests. A strong defense can sometimes result in a dismissal or reduction of charges.

E. Managing the DMV Hearing

If your license was suspended due to a DUI arrest, you’ll need to attend a DMV hearing. A criminal lawyer in San Diego can represent you at this hearing and help fight for the reinstatement of your driving privileges. An attorney can challenge the suspension on technicalities or argue that you were not properly informed of your rights at the time of the arrest.

4. What Happens Next After the First Appearance?

After your first court appearance, you will typically have a pretrial conference or status hearing. This is an opportunity for your attorney to negotiate a settlement or resolve the case without going to trial. If the case is not resolved, it may proceed to trial, where both sides will present evidence and argue their case before a judge or jury.

In the meantime, your criminal lawyer in San Diego will keep you updated on any developments, help you prepare for the next court date, and ensure that your defense is as strong as possible.

Conclusion

Your first DUI court appearance in San Diego is an important part of the legal process, but it is only the beginning. With the help of an experienced criminal lawyer in San Diego, you can ensure that you navigate the system effectively and protect your rights. Whether you’re pleading not guilty, considering a plea bargain, or preparing for trial, your attorney will guide you through each step.

If you've been arrested for DUI in San Diego, don’t face the legal process alone. Contact a skilled criminal lawyer in San Diego today to discuss your case and explore your legal options.

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Name: The H Law Group

Address: 714 W Olympic Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90015, United States

Phone No: +12136687364