#its happened a few times and it might happen to more of them

[witches-dream]

Imagine you have a son, and he's growing very disciplined, which is good, but he's very introverted, not really in a shut-in kinda way, he just seems very unapproachable to people, and he is, because he's just so serious all the time. Like you look at him and, yeah, he's gonna be great warrior, but you also wish that he could. Socialize a little?

So your son grows up and leaves to fulfill some kinda grand goal and you're like "ok, son", still kinda worried about him, but he's not your baby anymore, he can do what he wants. So he leaves and after a few days you hear this earth-shattering lightning strike, no storm before or after or anything, everybody is wondering what happened and if you'll all die soon. Nothing happens past that, actually, it feels strangely peaceful. So after a few days your son comes back and he doesn't look any different, but he has definitely changed in like a week or two that he was gone. So he says "father, I have defeated the black and white dragons". You're kinda shocked, but that explains the lightning strike and how everything went quiet after it, and your son is not one to lie, so you you say "oh, for real? neat". "They are not going to bother anyone anymore." Your son says in a solemn tone. Later, everyone celebrates but he doesn't come. You knock into his room, and, even through a closed door, you can feel some sort of power, warmth radiating from it. He opens the door and his sword looks... Different. First of all, it's much bigger. It has a completely different shape. And there's this... Purple gem on its handle and it's glowing brightly. Nobody in this village could've forged such an otherworldly masterpiece. So you ask "got a new sword, son?" He says "Yeah. It's a Soul Jam, actually." "A Soul Jam? Never heard of it." "I will tell you later."

He reluctantly agrees to join the celebration, but after a few weeks he leaves the village. He starts building a citadel, and walling off the coast of the Licorice Sea. People are already calling him Your Majesty, though he's slow on accepting that title. Many decades pass and you're so old you can't get out of the house on your own anymore. Your son visits and he looks the exact same as when he left. He takes care of you, with the same cold face he's always had, though his hands are warm and him just being there warms your heart. You strain your old and tired vocal cords to utter "I'm proud of you, son." He's silent, but he nods, and his long hair obscures his face, but you can imagine he's happy to hear that.

It's after you die that he accepts the throne, and the title of King that was decided by the people whose respect for him towered the mountains. And, as it turns out, your son is immortal now. And, through the years, through the decades and centuries and even millennia, he takes the utmost care of all his subordinates, he remembers every face of his every warrior and he etches out their names and immortalizes them and prays to them each day.

Your son does many great things, many heroic deeds. He defends the kingdom he founded with a resolution of a true warrior. Your son made friends. There's only four of them, they are heroes of their own lands just like him, so they're busy most of the time, but they go on adventures and they have fun once a couple of centuries. Your son also makes many mistakes, says things he deeply regrets. He has a son, and, even being thousands of years old, he still thinks of you and wishes he could be even half as great a father as you were.

Maybe sometimes your son wishes you were around to lend a word of advice, or to say "I'm proud of you" one more time. Other times, he's ashamed of a thought that you might be out there somewhere, watching him from the heavens and shaking your head in disapproval. You have no way of telling him you love him either way, with all his virtues and all his vices alike. What matters is that, in the end, your son overcomes all adversities and becomes a better person. He was given a unique chance in life: to have infinite time to learn, and he uses all that time to become a better person.

You have no regrets. You can rest peacefully, knowing you have raised a hero.

[dailydoseoflhs]

04: Media.

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Lucille receives a notification from Instagram. Her eyes reads along the line of THE Charles Leclerc liking her story and her post.

The first instinct she does was to call Julia and fangirl with her.

The two girls was screaming at the top of their lungs as if they have won a lottery. Her profile getting followed and her post getting more engagement due to Charles' engagement to it.

Her phone pings, Julia sending her articles of "their" supposed relationship. When in fact, her and him are completely strangers to one another.

Some fans goes far as calling her homewrecker saying that she ruined Alexandra's ans Charles' perfect relationship.

Lucille hangs the call, closing her phone to detox.

"Anak? Okay ka lang ba?" (Lucille? Are you okay?) Her mother questions as she enters the room with Lucille's favorite snack.

"Okay lang po ako, ma." (I'm fine, mom) Lucille answers with an assuring smile on her lips.

The girl takes the snack and place it on her nightstand. Her mother was not chronically online, so she remains oblivious to what is happening.

The media is now calling her the new love interest. The scary part is, they are trying to get more information on her.

Good thing, she doesn't input her information in any of her social media accounts. Only birthday and nickname.

"She's 9 years younger"

"That's an age gap trope😍"

Some approves due and some remains not so happy with it.

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withlove_lucille posted a story 1min ago●

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Notification 🔔

@charles_leclerc liked your story

@charles_leclerc has started following you back

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Lucille saw the notification and decided to ignore it.

Charles is definitely just being a nice gentleman and appreciating his fans support for him. She knows that the man is still undergoing a heartbreak recovery.

Probably, sooner Charles will undo everything and realizes he is being hazy.

But Lucille despite her self-assurance could not shake it off. Why her? Why did he chose her to interact with? Was there any reasons?

Something in her mind is telling her something.

The invisible red string glowing gold as two soulmates has found their way to one another.

Entangled with hardship but by the looks of the string, it was a string that is strong and cannot be cut off.

══════════════════════════════

Meanwhile.

Charles accidentally liked his fan's post and story. Her congratulating him and posting him on his story, he felt big joy seeing it.

He knows his fans are ones who never gives up on him and so, he will not give up on them either.

Charles couldn't undo the like thinking that the user might think he didn't like their post and story, so he let it be.

But the next few hours, he didn't expect that it will blow up and a theory about his relationship. He couldn't understand, why he couldn't appreciate his fans at peace without a rumor being created?

He returns to the user's profile and liked the newly posted story about the situation, them clearing things up.

Charles accidentally clicked the follow as if his finger has its own mind. He panics making him close the phone and pace around the room.

He couldn't unfollow the user now especially his eagle-eyed fans that saw him following the account.

He is so doom. He is so done.

The media will have a field day with this. All because his fingers always slips up with this particular account.

Indeed, the medias has released articles about it already. Not even an hour passed and there are articles already.

He starts to feel bad for the person he dragged into this. The innocent person behind the account will be entangled in this mess.

Despite his panic, there is a certain feeling of familiarity. A sense of knowing towards the account as if he have know the person behind it for a long time.

The red string of fate do really have its own way. The accidents that he experience were not accidents but a glimpse of the future.

MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS || NEXT

Author's note

Update for you all! I survived my midterms, I'm kinda free from uni works...but I can't say I'll update regularly.

Regarding the taglist, it is open for everyone. I still have to fix it as I can't tag some accounts.

🏁🆑️🏎❤️

[witchofhimring]

Family tensions (short fic)

Pairings: Tamlin x Reader, Feyre x Rhysand, Nyx x OC (Tamlin and Readers daughter)

Synopsis: Your daughter Tamar is mated to Rhysandss son Nyx.

Warnings: family tensions

Despite your insistent that this was in fact not the end of the word Tamlin still insisted this was the worst thing to happen. 'Have those Illyrian rats not taken enough from me!' Following your husband up the flight of stairs, you attempted to convince him that Tamar might just love Nyx. Of course you did not fully blame him. Given his past with the Night Court and its ruling lord and lady one could understand. You were torn between wanting to protect your husband and look out for Tamara. 'Perhaps we should talk to Tamar first?' Tamlin turned around. 'That is exactly what I intend to do!'

Unfortunately, the pair of you had horrible timing. Because when the door to Tamara's room was opened it was not just your daughter there, but Nyx.

Tamlin looked ready to pass out. There his daughter and Nyx were, Tamara on his lap reading a book. The moment they realized who had walked in both jumped up. 'What is this!?' Behind Tamlin came you. 'Hello Nyx.' You said politely. Oh dear. Nyx's blue eyes went back and forth between Tamara and Tamlin.

'Father, this is Nyx.' Tamara, looking unrepentant, stared defiantly at her father. It occurred to you that Tamara did not know the whole story between your families. Perhaps you should have been more forthcoming. 'Tamara dear, could we talk about this in private?' You gave Nyx a tremulous smile. 'Yes. Boy, leave.' Nyx ignored your husband. Placing himself protectively before Tamara, Nyx drew himself to his full height. 'Tamlin calm down. Nyx could you go to your parents and speak to them about this?' It was best to deal with this diplomatically. Tamlin was mostly calm these days. Years had passed since you last saw him so angry.

'Nyx. You go and I will deal with my father.' Tamara placed a hand on Nyx's shoulder. 'Are you sure.' Nyx seemed unwilling to go. 'I will be fine. You being here will make things harder. Go back to your parents.' Reluctantly Nyx left, only when he was sure Tamara was safe. Against your will, you liked him for that.

'You were where!?' His father was leaning forward on the armchair of the throne. Nyx stood before his parents in the throne room. Empty except for them three of them, Nyx was wondering just how well this would go. His father had no love for the Lord of the Spring Court. To heard that his son was courting that lords daughter might just send him.

'Is that where you have been.' His mother sat on the throne. Rhysand looked towards his wife. 'You knew?' 'No my love. I had no idea where Nyx was. But our son is nearly grown now. Should he not be allowed to chose who he loves?' Feyre, although not having ever fully forgiven Tamlin, was of a mixed mind. She did not know his eldest child well. But the few times they met Tamara had been polite. And if this had been going on for years then perhaps this was not a hasty decision. Rhysand had no such debates. In this mind this was terrible. Under no circumstances was he to be in laws with Tamlin of all people.

'I do love her father.' Rhysand raised an eyebrow. 'And what if this is a plot?' Both Feyre and Nyx looked shocked. 'Father-you can not mean-) Nyx spluttered. 'Tamara is true to me. And Lord Tamlin was nearly red with rage and-'Rhysand raised a hand. 'I'm sorry, he was what?' 'Furious. I doubt Lord Tamlin will agreed to this marriage.' Suddenly Rhysand smiled, eyes lighting up. Suddenly this marriage seemed like a terrific idea. 'Furious was he.' Rhysand was starting to think this marriage was not such a bad idea.

The idea that Tamlin might be furious over this possible marriage made the idea of uniting their families seemed a splendid idea. Rhysand nearly giggled himself sick with delight. Feyre told him he best behave. Especially since a month later they were invited to the Spring Court. Tamlin did not greet them. Feyre had never met Lady Y/n, but she had been polite, although warry. Feyre could understand why. If it had been the other way around she might be hesitant. Yet Y/n was polite and soon they were in the tea room. Feyre could not believe how different this place looked. Everything was so tidy and had a homely feel to it. Cakes and eat were placed on marble tea tables. Conversation was slightly stilted, Y/n seemed careful of every word she said. And that was when Tamlin entered. Feyre's hands clenched with anxiety. While Y/n was courteous Tamlin might not show the same restraint. Taking a seat, Tamlin kissed his wife on the cheek.

It was mostly Feyre and yourself talking. Despite your apprehensions she seemed nice enough. On the other side sat Tamlin and Rhysand sitting in stony silence. Tamlin seemed to be looking anywhere else but Rhysand, and Rhysand's mouth was placed in a frown. While the mothers seemed quite happy to chatter amongst themselves, the fathers looked like to smack each other. You prayed this would go well.

that was when Nyx and Tamara entered.

Notes: I plan to make more fics for this concept. This is kind of shorter than I would have liked but oh well. As I wrote this on a whim future fics might be slightly different. Hope you liked it! 💕

[warrioreowynofrohan]

LOTR Newsletter - September 19

So, what’s happening in the summer before Frodo’s departure?

On June 20th, Sauron attacks Osgiliath; at around the same time, he sends Orcs to attack Thranduil, and Gollum escapes.

From Unfinished Tales, "The Hunt for the Ring":

Now Sauron learning of the capture of Gollum by the chiefs of his enemies was in great haste and fear. Yet all his ordinary spies and emissaries could bring him no tidings. And this was due largely to the vigilance of the Dúnedain and to the treachery of Saruman, whose own servants either waylaid or misled the servants of Sauron. Of this Sauron became aware, but his arm was not yet long enough to reach Saruman in Isengard. Therefore he hid his knowledge of Saruman’s double-dealing and concealed his wrath, biding his time, and preparing for the great war in which he planned to sweep all his enemies into the western sea. At length he resolved that no others would serve him in this case but his mightiest servants, the Ringwraiths, who had no will but his own, being each utterly subservient to the ring that had enslaved him, which Sauron held.   Now few could withstand even one of these fell creatures, and (as Sauron deemed) none could withstand them when gathered together under their terrible captain, the Lord of Morgul. Yet this weakness they had for Sauron’s present purpose: so great was the terror that went with them (even invisible and unclad) that their coming forth might soon be perceived and their mission be guessed by the Wise. So it was that Sauron prepared two strokes – in which many after saw the beginnings of the War of the Ring. They were made together. The Orcs assailed the realm of Thranduil, with orders to recapture Gollum; and the Lord of Morgul was sent forth openly to battle against Gondor. These things were done towards the end of June 3018. Thus Sauron tested the strength and preparedness of Denethor, and found them to be more than he had hoped. That troubled him little, since he had used little force in the assault, and his chief purpose was that the coming forth of the Nazgûl should appear only as part of his policy of war against Gondor. Therefore when Osgiliath was taken and the bridge broken Sauron stayed the assault, and the Nazgûl were ordered to begin the search for the Ring.

Elsewhere the same chapter says:

In the panic of the first assault, when the Witch-king was allowed to reveal himself briefly in his full terror, the Nazgûl crossed the bridge at night and dispersed northwards. Without belittling the valour of Gondor, which indeed Sauron found greater far than he had hoped, it is clear that Boromir and Faramir were able to drive back the enemy and destroy the bridge, only because the attack had now served its main purpose.

And here is Boromir's description of the battle from "The Council of Elrond":

“But this very year, in the days of June, sudden war came upon us out of Mordor, and we were swept away. We were outnumbered, for Mordor has allied itself with the Easterlings and cruel Haradrim; but it was not by numbers we were defeated. A power was there that we have not felt before. “Some said that it could be seen, like a great black horseman, a dark shadow under the moon. Wherever he came a madness filled our foes, but fear fell on our boldest, so that horse and man gave way and fled. Only a remnant of our eastern force came back, destroying the last bridge that still stood amid the ruins of Osgiliath. “I was in the company that held the bridge, until it was cast down behind us. Four only were saved by swimming: my brother and myself and two others…. “…on the eve of the sudden assault a dream came to my brother in a troubled sleep; and afterwards a like dream came oft to him again, and once to me. In that dream I thought the eastern sky grew dark and there was a growing thunder, but in the West a pale light lingered, and out of it I heard a voice, remote but clear, crying: [He then describes the riddle/poem Seek for the sword that was broken]”

(Something I hadn't considered before: Who do you think sent the dream? My guess is one of the Valar, probably Irmo (Lórien).)

A little after, on July 4, Boromir sets out for Minas Tirith, though Faramir was clearly preferred by the sender of the dream.

At the end of June, Gandalf has a sense of foreboding, but does not yet know of the attack; this is what causes him to say tell Frodo, "I am going down beyond the southern borders to get some news, if I can." (He has not heard of the escape of Gollum, as he learns that from Gwaihir during his escape from Orthanc.) As he later tells the Council of Elrond:

“At the end of June I was in the Shire, but a cloud of anxiety was on my mind, and I rode to the southern borders of the little land; for I had a foreboding of some danger, still hidden from me but drawing near. There messages reached me telling me of war and defeat in Gondor, and when I heard of the Black Shadow a chill smote my heart. But I found nothing save a few fugitives from the South; yet it seemed to me that on them sat a fear of which they would not speak. I turned then east and north and journeyed along the Greenway; and not far from Bree I came upon a traveller sitting on a bank beside the road with his grazing horse beside him. It was Radagast the Brown...”

Radagast tells Gandalf that the Nine Ringwraiths have crossed to the west side of the Anduin River in secret, as riders in black, and are riding west, and looking for a land called "Shire". He says Gandalf that Saruman says for Gandalf to come to him immediately if he wants help.

Gandalf tells the Council of Elrond:

“I could not follow him then and there. I had ridden very far already that day, and I was as weary as my horse; and I needed to consider matters. I stayed the night in Bree, and decided that I had no time to return to the Shire. Never did I make a greater mistake! “However, I wrote a message to Frodo, and trusted to my friend the innkeeper to send it to him. I rode away at dawn.”

This is one of the most pivotal moments determining how things go in The Lord of the Rings! If Gandalf had taken one day to ride back to the Shire and warn Frodo to depart immediately, or if Butterbur had remembered to send the letter, then Frodo would have set out in early July, not late September, and reached Rivendell by the road before the end of summer, long before the Ringwraiths reached the Shire. Instead, Gandalf reaches Isengard and is taken captive by Saruman on July 10th, and remains captive until September 18th. Gandalf says:

“Fear was ever in my heart for my friends in the Shire; but still I had some hope. I hoped that Frodo had set forth at once, as my letter had urged, and that he had reached Rivendell before the deadly pursuit began. And both my fear and my hope proved ill-founded. For my hope was founded on a fat man in Bree; and my fear was founded on the cunning of Sauron. But fat men who sell ale have many calls to answer; and the power of Sauron is still less than fear makes it. But in the circle of Isengard, trapped and alone, it was not easy to think that the hunters before whom all have fled or fallen would falter in the Shire far away.”

So why did they falter? And if the Ringwraiths were out of Mordor by late June, why did it take them 3 months to get to the Shire? This is one of the big things that "The Hunt for the Ring" explains.

The Ringwraiths did not know where the Shire was! Gollum, obsessed with the Ring, had managed to lie even to Sauron under torture, and pretend that he thought the Shire was in Wilderland (between the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood), in the area of the Gladden Fields where he had dwelt in his youth. The Ringwraiths went there first, and moving in secret, they only got north of Rohan (The Field of Celebrant) by July 22nd, and then spent much of the summer searching further north to the Gladden Fields and beyond. From "The Hunt for the Ring":

Version A About the twenty-second of July they [the six Ringwraiths of Minas Morgul] met their companions, the Nazgûl of Dol Guldur, in the Field of Celebrant. There they learned that Gollum had eluded both the Orcs that recaptured him, and the Elves that pursued him, and had vanished. [Footnote: He had indeed in his terror of the Nazgûl dared to hide in Moria.]  They were also told by Khamûl that no dwelling of Halflings could be discovered in the Vales of Anduin, and that the villages of the Stoors by the Gladden had long been deserted. But the Lord of Morgul, seeing no better counsel, determined still to seek northward, hoping maybe to come upon Gollum as well as to discover the Shire. That this would prove to be not far from the hated land of Lórien seemed to him not unlikely, if it was not indeed within the fences of Galadriel. But the power of the White Ring he would not defy, nor enter yet into Lórien. Passing therefore between Lórien and the Mountains the Nine rode ever on into the North; and terror went before them and lingered behind them; but they did not find what they sought nor learn any news that availed them. At length they returned; but the summer was now far waned. Version B The account of the vain journey of the Nazgûl up the Vales of Anduin is much the same in version B as that printed in full above (A), but with the difference that in B the Stoor settlements were not entirely deserted at that time; and such of the Stoors as dwelt there were slain or driven away by the Nazgûl. In all the texts the precise dates are slightly at variance both with each other and with those given in the Tale of Years; these differences are here neglected.

By early September, Sauron is very worried and angry indeed; if he was in a Bond movie or the like, he'd be saying "Why am I surrounded by idiots!?"

The wrath and fear of Sauron was mounting. When they [the Ringwraiths] came back to the Wold September had come; and there they met messengers from Barad-dûr conveying threats from their Master that filled even the Morgul-lord with dismay. For Sauron had now learned of the words of prophecy heard in Gondor, and the going forth of Boromir [July 4], of Saruman’s deeds, and the capture of Gandalf [July 10]. From these things he concluded indeed that neither Saruman nor any other the Wise had possession yet of the Ring, but that Saruman at least knew where it might be hidden. Speed alone would now serve, and secrecy must be abandoned. The Ringwraiths were therefore ordered to go straight to Isengard. They rode through Rohan in haste, and the terror of their passing was so great that many folk fled from the land and went wildly away north and west, believing that war out of the East was coming on the heels of the black horses.

So in short, the Nazgul spent most of July and August on a wild-goose-chase thanks to bad information from Gollum. He's a resilient little guy, you got to give him that.

[honeybelleee]

Stabbed, You’re Next!

| Chapter Two |

Synopsis

When Y/N's best friend, Wonyoung Jang, is brutally murdered after uncovering a corruption scheme involving the school's staff, Y/N finds herself pulled into a dangerous game. With only a cryptic email and a folder of incriminating evidence, Y/N must team up with Wonyoung's boyfriend, Mingyu and a tech-savvy loner, Jake to expose the truth. But as the body count rises, Y/N realizes the conspiracy goes deeper than she ever imagined-and the killer is always one step ahead. Trust no one, because in this game, anyone could be next.

Pairings

Jake Sim x F!reader (It will progress rily slow)

Genre

Mystery, thriller, crime, heavy angst, slowburn fluff

TW

This story contains themes of violence, murder, and death, including graphic depictions of a stabbing and blood. It also explores corruption, fear, and grief, as the characters deal with loss, danger, and being stalked by a killer. Themes of paranoia and emotional trauma are present.

Notes

First fic posted on tumblr, ignore the details of the text messages places (its unorganized)!

Extra - This is going to be a half smau!!

Prev - Masterlist - Next

____________________________________________

It was 2.30 AM on a Wednesday, I wiped away my tears, trying to focus. I couldn’t fall apart now. Not when there was still so much to do. I grabbed my phone, dialing Mingyu’s number. It rang a few times before he picked up, his voice groggy.

“Y/N? What’s going on? It’s late.”

“Mingyu, it’s Wonyoung. Something’s happened. She’s... gone.” My voice cracked, and there was a long silence on the other end.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” he finally asked, his voice tight with confusion and rising panic.

“She’s dead, Mingyu. I found her in the lab.” I could barely get the words out. “I think someone killed her because of something she found.”

“W-what?” Mingyu’s voice broke, his disbelief palpable. “No, no, no... That can’t be. Wonyoung wouldn’t just—"

"I know, but it’s true. She was looking into something big, something dangerous. She left me a message before it happened.” I didn’t have the strength to tell him everything over the phone, but he needed to know the basics. "Meet me tomorrow. We need to figure out what she was working on. And... you might want to bring Jake."

He didn’t ask questions, his silence filled with grief and shock. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

After ending the call, I took a deep breath, trying to collect my thoughts. I stared at the draft email again, scrolling through Wonyoung’s inbox, hoping there might be more. She was smart—she had to have left something else, some other clue that could help me understand just how deep this went.

Nothing.

It was almost like she’d wiped everything clean herself, leaving behind only the draft that was meant for me. I frowned, frustrated and on edge. Wonyoung wouldn’t have left something so dangerous in plain sight. The evidence had to be somewhere else—somewhere safe.

My mind kept circling back to the lab, to the stack of papers she was gathering before... before she was killed. Could they still be there? Or had the police already collected them? The thought of going back to that room made my stomach churn, but I didn’t have a choice. I needed to know what Wonyoung had found, and those papers could be the key.

The next morning, I met Mingyu and Jake in a quiet corner of the local coffee shop. Mingyu looked haggard, dark circles under his eyes, his usual bright smile absent. Jake, as usual, kept to himself, his face hidden beneath the hood of his sweatshirt.

Neither of them spoke at first, the weight of what we were dealing with hanging heavily in the air.

The next morning, I met Mingyu and Jake in a quiet corner of the local coffee shop. Mingyu looked haggard, dark circles under his eyes, his usual bright smile absent. Jake, as usual, kept to himself, his face hidden beneath the hood of his sweatshirt.

Neither of them spoke at first, the weight of what we were dealing with hanging heavily in the air.

Mingyu’s eyes were bloodshot, and I could tell he hadn’t slept. He read the email with trembling hands, shaking his head in disbelief. “This doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t she tell me about this? We didn’t keep secrets…”

“She probably wanted to protect you,” Jake said quietly, surprising both of us. He was already tapping away on his laptop, his fingers moving fast. “You said she didn’t trust anyone. If this was as dangerous as it sounds, she would’ve kept you out of it.”

Mingyu bit his lip, frustration and grief written all over his face, but he didn’t argue. “So what do we do now?”

“We need to find the evidence,” I said. “The police might have taken everything from the lab, but I think Wonyoung was careful. If she didn’t send it through email, then maybe it’s hidden somewhere else. Jake, do you think you can find anything?”

Jake gave me a nod, his eyes already glued to his screen. “If she left any digital traces, I’ll find them. But we need more than just her emails. If she kept notes or files, I need access to her devices—her laptop, her phone, whatever she used.”

I nodded. “I’ll go back to the school, see if they’ve secured her stuff yet. Maybe they haven’t taken everything.”

Mingyu looked hesitant, fear flashing across his face. “Y/N... you need to be careful. If whoever did this finds out you’re digging into what Wonyoung found...”

“I know,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I was ready to face that reality. “But I can’t just do nothing. Wonyoung trusted me with this, and I’m not going to let her down.”

Mingyu looked like he wanted to argue, but instead, he just nodded. “Okay. Just promise you’ll call me if anything happens.”

I made my way back to Riverton High, my heart pounding as I approached the science lab. The police tape still blocked off the entrance, and a few officers stood nearby, guarding the scene.

I didn’t have time to think about what I was doing—I had to act. Taking a deep breath, I ducked around the corner and waited until the coast was clear. I knew the side door near the storage area wasn’t always locked. Wonyoung had told me about it once, back when we snuck in to finish a project late at night.

My pulse quickened as I pushed the door, holding my breath. It gave way with a quiet creak, and I slipped inside.

The lab was eerily quiet, the shadows long and ominous under the harsh fluorescent lights. The sight of the bloodstains on the floor made me sick, but I forced myself to focus. I had to find those papers. They had to be somewhere.

As I scanned the room, something caught my eye—a drawer near Wonyoung’s workbench. It was slightly ajar, and I could see the edge of a folder peeking out.

I quickly moved toward it, my hands trembling as I pulled the folder free. My breath caught. Inside were pages of notes, printouts, and photographs. Wonyoung had documented everything—emails, financial records, pictures of school staff, even a few blurry images of what looked like secret meetings. This was it. This was the evidence that had gotten her killed.

I barely had time to process it before I heard footsteps. My heart leapt into my throat. Someone was coming.

I shoved the folder into my bag and turned, scanning the room for a way out. But it was too late. The door creaked open, and a shadowy figure stepped inside.

“Y/N,” the voice was cold, sending a chill down my spine. I recognized it immediately.

Ms. Kang, the new guidance counselor, stepped into the light, her eyes narrowing as they landed on me.

“You shouldn’t have come back here,” she said, her voice calm but filled with menace. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

My blood ran cold as I realized the truth. She was part of it. She was involved in whatever corruption Wonyoung had uncovered.

And now she knew I was onto her.

I took a step back, my hand tightening around the strap of my bag. “I’m not scared of you,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Ms. Kang’s lips curled into a smile, but there was no warmth in it. “You should be. Wonyoung didn’t know when to stop. Don’t make the same mistake.” She took a step closer, her eyes gleaming with something dark and dangerous. “Leave this alone, Y/N. Or you’ll end up just like her.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. I needed to get out of here. I needed to get the evidence to Jake and Mingyu.

But first, I had to survive.

Taglist

@heeseungspookie @woorcve @sumzysworld

[insolemi]

New Beginnings

cate dunlap (gen v) x (hopefully)gn!reader

summary: cate's life takes a series of turns when she gets to God U, and you're at the center of all of them

genre: fluff, potential angst

inclusions: language, awkward situations, touchstarved and socially awkward!cate, overly-excited and outgoing!reader, ooc cate fs, this is more a few different scattered scenes that it is a full, single plot fic so be aware, my first attempt at a fic so please lower expectations

wc: 4.4k

hiiii… y’all i am so sorry this took me seventy years to get posted, i had the strangest series of events happen, but here it is and i hope you enjoy it !!

Godolkin is an entirely new environment.

It's not like Cate hadn't known that going into it, hadn’t known that her life would be completely different from the moment Indira Shetty had shown up in her room and offered her a way out of her childhood bedroom turned prison. She doesn’t think she’d ever be able to repay her for that. For getting her out of that house, out from under the echoing emptiness of the four walls of her bedroom and the occasional sound of her online homework videos.

For being the reason she met you. Her pretty, sweet little roommate.

Move-in day hadn’t been particularly good or bad, the large crowds of people and their chattering were overwhelming but calming at the same time, knowing the voices weren’t in her head but out loud, around her this time.

She made her way down the hall, brushing through smaller crowds of students and their parents as she counted the different numbers above the doors. 415, 417, 419. She reads the number, coming to a slow stop outside of the dorm room with the number written on the piece of paper in her hand, her name labeled right next to your name. The thought alone of it makes her nauseous, having to share a bedroom with an entirely new person she’d never met before and hope that they get along. 

Whatever. It’s fine. She can do this. All she has to do is walk into the room, introduce herself to you, and try her best to not embarrass herself. That’s easy enough, no? It’s not like its rocket science or a hostage situation (although the way her heart is beating loudly in her ears might say differently), all she has to do is walk in and say ‘Hi, I’m Cate’. 

She stands in the doorway, just staring at your back for a moment, her eyes wide, the leather of her gloves creaking around the strap of the bag she’s holding in her hands (one of the only things she’d even brought with her) as she works up the courage to just open her mouth and talk as the only thing running through her mind is that everything is fine, she's got this, all she has to do is say–

Fuck.

The second her mouth opens, you turn to face her from the desk you’d been arranging things on and any words she’d been carefully planning in her head die on the tip of her tongue immediately at the sight of you. 

She hardly has any time to let the thought cross her mind and register it before you’re in her space, introducing yourself with an excited note to your sweet voice and wrapping your arms around her in a brief hug, your chin pressed against the side of her shoulder, the palm of your hands braced on the back of her shoulders, the other hand around her neck. You pull back from her and rest your hands above the back of her elbows, your face still in her direct orbit as you smile at her, your mouth opening to continue speaking. “You’re Cate, right? My roommate?” There’s a pretty little sparkle to your eye that she has to tear her own away from.

She can’t think about anything but the sound of your voice ringing in her ears and the feeling of the heat of your hands over her sleeves, but she somehow manages to get the words out of her mouth to finally introduce herself. “Uh, yeah, hi,” she forces out, her head spinning so fast that she can’t think properly and she stumbles back a step, pulling out of your grasp, unable to handle the warmth of your touch. She awkwardly tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I'm, um… Cate.” It’s been so long since anyone touched her so enthusiastically, without any ounce of hesitation, and now here you are, all smiles and casual touches, and she can barely keep it together.

But she does. She doesn’t want to come across as weird, a freak, so she smiles and nods along with your excited chattering, your energy far off the charts of anything near the realm of what she’s used to. “Thank god,” you laugh, clapping your hands together as you look her over for probably the first real time since she entered the room. “I was so worried I was gonna get a total bitch, but you seem sweet, so, again, thank god.” Another bell-ringing laugh.

“You have a nice laugh.” Fuck. Again. Her and her big mouth. “Sorry! I didn’t–”

“It's fine! Thank you," you keep the pretty smile on your face as you continue to look over Cate, a tint to your cheeks appearing briefly before you’re back to talking, something she’s starting to get the sense you do a lot (not that she minds, not if it means she gets to keep hearing your voice). "Oh, your hair is so gorgeous," you lift a hand from where it’s clasped in front of your chest to briefly lift a strand of Cate's blonde hair, admiring the clips she has in place.

Cate feels her pulse quicken. “Uh... thanks. It’s just, you know... hair,” she laughs nervously, unsure what else to say. Your touch, though brief, leaves behind a warmth that spreads through her chest, and it’s making her head spin

You smile brightly, seemingly unaware of how much you're affecting her. “Y’know, you and me? We’re going to be best friends. I can already tell.” 

Cate’s face flushes instantly. "Oh, um... yeah! That’d be cool." Her voice cracks slightly as she tries to match your enthusiasm, and she winces inwardly. You sound so sure of yourself, have so much conviction in your voice that Cate can hardly do anything other than believe your words. It’s overwhelming, in the best way, but she feels like she’s drowning in it. She’s not used to this kind of attention directed at her. You’re all smiles, your energy is infectious, and it’s making her feel out of place for not being able to respond how she wants to. She knows what she wants to say, but that’s almost never what leaves her mouth.

Still in the back of her head, there’s a wiggling part that kinda smarts at what you say. Best friends. That’s exactly what she needs, she thinks, a genuine best friend, though that thought directed at you makes her chest tighten in a way she doesn’t know how to handle, for reasons she doesn’t want to think about.

“You seem... really sweet, too,” Cate admits, biting her lip the moment the words leave her mouth. She hates how transparent she’s being but with you... it’s hard to hide how much she’s already attached.

Your smile grows even warmer. “Good! ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Cate.”

Cate lets out a nervous laugh, trying to mask the overwhelming flood of emotions that sentence sparks. "Yeah... I’m okay with that." More than okay, she thinks, but she can’t say that out loud.

—

It’s late, and the two of you are sitting on the loveseat couch in your dorm room that you’d somehow managed to acquire (somehow being you sweet-talking a frat boy out of one, not that anyone else needed to know that), mid-way through watching some animated movie Cate can’t remember the name of but you’d forced her to watch (‘forced’ meaning you asked her once to watch it and she caved) once you realized she’d never seen it. You’ve been leaning against Cate’s side for most of it, your head resting on her shoulder, legs thrown over the arm of the couch, and she’s been tense the whole time, back ramrod straight, trying her best not to move too much, not to let her nerves show. She’s terrified that if she moves, you’ll realize how fast her heart is racing.

It’s silent in the room until you let out a soft sigh, shifting slightly where you’re laying basically your entire body against her side. Cate can’t help but somehow stiffen up more. This doesn’t escape your notice, just like anything else that has to do with her, and you lift your head, turning it to look at her.

“You okay?” The concern in your voice makes her heart squeeze and she makes a conscious effort to relax a little. 

“Yeah,” she slips you a tight smile, her eyes darting back and forth between the screen and your face. More than okay if she’s being honest.

You nod, a soft hum of contentment leaving your lips as you lay your head back down on her shoulder, pulling your legs closer to you on the couch and loosely wrapping an arm around hers. Cate’s breath hitches despite her best efforts to focus on anything other than your bare palm on her arm. “Yeah,” you echo, the sound full of a kind of relaxation Cate desperately wishes she could hit.

It falls silent in the room again, the neon colors on the screen glowing brightly around the room, casting long shadows where the light can’t quite reach. There’s almost something either poetic or ironic in that, Cate thinks. Maybe she could figure it out if she could think about something other than the heat of your skin or your breath fanning out over her arm, your eyes still focused solely on the screen.

She feels like she should say something more, but the words get stuck in her throat, but all she can think about is how warm you feel against her, how much she wants this moment to last forever.

You glance up at her again, noticing the distant look on her face, and nudge her with a playful grin. "You’re still watching, right?" you tease, your voice light but laced with affection. “This is my favorite part.”

Cate blinks, momentarily startled, then forces a sheepish smile. “Uh, yeah. Totally.” But in reality, she hasn’t processed a single frame of the movie. How could she, when you’re so close? When your every movement sends ripples of warmth through her?

The movie continues to play, but all Cate can focus on is how natural it feels, how right it feels, sitting next to you like this.

—

It’s been a few weeks since you two moved in together, and Cate is slowly starting to feel more comfortable around you. She’s still a little awkward, old habits die hard (especially ones like hers), but she’s not as jumpy as she used to be. Especially not now when, where there used to be hard spots of tension in every silence between you two, are now small, quiet moments that are more comforting than they are terrifying.

So today, when you suggested grabbing coffee at the campus café, Cate agreed. Even if the thought of spending time alone with you, even if it is in a public space, still makes her heart race, she just couldn’t find it in herself to say no this time. She’s sitting across from you, absently stirring her drink as you talk about anything and everything, your hands doing most of the speaking for you when you bring it up. 

“So…” She can already tell you think you’re taking a risk bringing it up, which makes her stomach twist a little. “There’s this little hangout thing – not a party!” You reassure immediately, hand coming up to stop any protests she might have, already well aware that parties aren’t her thing; too many people, too much noise, too much of a risk of something bad happening. “It’s not a party, it’s just, like, five or six people, I swear.”

“You should come with me!” you say, your eyes lighting up. “It’ll be fun, I promise.” It’s a long shot, asking her to go to a party (or anything, really), and you both know it, but you never skip asking her anyway, despite her numerous rejections. It makes her feel… warm? That you never give up on her. That alone makes her reconsider her usual knee-jerk reaction of saying ‘no’.

Her fingers toy with the rim of her cup, buying her a moment to think. “I don’t know...” she begins, her voice hesitant. “Parties aren’t really my thing.” She glances up at you, biting her lip. “But... maybe.”

You nearly spill your coffee as you sit up straighter, eyes wide and a hopeful smile on your face. “Wait—really? You’d come?”

Cate feels her heart skip a beat at your genuine surprise and excitement. A small, tentative smile pulls at her lips, and for once, she lets herself enjoy the idea. “Yeah,” she shrugs, trying to sound casual even though her heart is racing. “Why not, right?”

You grin from ear to ear, letting out a little squeal of excitement, making her feel a little braver for saying yes. “This is awesome, Cate! You won’t regret it, I swear.”

She hopes you’re right.

—

Later that night, Cate stands in front of the mirror, adjusting her shirt nervously for what feels like the hundredth time. She’s never been comfortable with events like this, even if it is nothing big, just a small gathering with some people from your class like you’d said. Despite the anxiety gnawing at her, she’s determined to at least try, especially since it means spending more time with you outside of classes. She tugs at the sleeves of her shirt, her eyes lingering on her gloves.

Your soft knock on the open closet door pulls her from her thoughts. You poke your head around it, a playful grin on your face. “You ready?”

Nope. She is absolutely in no way prepared for this. At all. Cate takes a deep breath, her lips quirking into a small, hesitant smile. “Yup,” she chirps, though there’s still audible uncertainty in her voice.

You walk over to her, gently reaching out to fix a stray strand of hair that’s fallen out of place. Your fingers barely graze her skin, but it’s enough to send her pulse racing. “You look great, Cate.”

Cate’s breath catches at the compliment, and she gives a soft, nervous laugh. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “You too. I mean, you also look great.” She's not entirely sure that covers it.

You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. “Don’t worry,” you say reassuringly, “I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

For some reason, that promise makes all the difference. Cate takes another steadying breath and follows you to the door, feeling just a little braver with you by her side.

Maybe tonight, she’ll finally stop holding herself back.

—

A few weeks later and the two of you are lying on your beds, the lights dimmed, just talking about anything and everything. These late-night conversations have become a nightly routine since moving in together, and Cate is starting to feel like she can really open up to you in ways she hasn’t with anyone else. There's something about the quiet of the room, the gentle rhythm of your voice, and the way you listen without judgment that makes her feel... safe, she thinks. 

You stretch out, letting your arm dangle off the edge of the bed, glancing over at her. “Hey, Cate,” you ask softly, “what’s your family like?”

Cate hesitates, staring up at the ceiling. She’s never been good at talking about them—the weight of her past always feels too heavy, too personal. But with you, it doesn’t feel quite as suffocating. There's something about the way you ask, like you’re genuinely interested, but not pushing her to share more than she’s comfortable with. She still isn’t sure how much she wants to reveal, but the silence that follows your question is patient, giving her room to breathe.

She finally speaks, her voice low. “My family’s... complicated.” She shifts slightly on her bed, pulling at the sleeve of her shirt. “I don’t really talk to them much anymore.”

You turn your head to look at her, your voice soft and full of understanding. “I’m sorry, Cate.”

Cate swallows, feeling a familiar tightness in her chest. She doesn’t want to go too deep, doesn’t want to drag the mood down, so she shrugs, trying to make it seem like it’s not that big of a deal. “It’s okay. I’m... kinda used to it by now.” Her voice wavers slightly, betraying her attempt at nonchalance.

The room falls into a thoughtful silence. It’s not uncomfortable, just heavy with the unspoken weight of everything Cate has never said aloud. You don’t push for more, just let her words hang in the air, like you’re giving her the space to share if she wants to. After a long pause, you break the silence with a soft chuckle.

“You know, I think we’re kind of like family now,” you say, the warmth in your tone unmistakable. You roll over on your side, facing her, your face half-lit by the soft glow from the window. “I mean, we live together, we spend a lot of time together, grocery shopping... pretty much checks all the boxes, right?”

Cate turns her head slightly, surprised by your words. The idea catches her off-guard, but not in a bad way. It’s just... new. “Yeah?” she murmurs, her voice uncertain. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” you say with a grin. “And you don’t have to think about any of that shit with your family right now. You've got me.” You scoot a little closer on your bed, giving her an earnest look. “So... if you ever wanna, like, talk about it, I’m here. But if not, that’s cool too. It won’t hurt my feelings or anything.”

Cate’s heart skips a beat. It’s not the words themselves that get to her—it’s the sincerity behind them. The way you say it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, makes her feel like maybe she’s not as alone as she thought.

A small, genuine smile tugs at her lips. “Yeah,” she murmurs, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “I guess.”

You flash her another warm smile, your voice light. “See? I’m not so bad to have around, right?”

Cate chuckles softly, the sound easing some of the tension in her shoulders. “Eh, you’re alright,” she teases gently, heaving an exasperated sounding sigh. “Guess I could do worse.”

You laugh, a playful glint in your eye. “Wow, thanks, I think? High praise coming from you.”

Cate rolls her eyes, but there’s no denying the smile that’s still on her face. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” you reply, your grin widening as you settle back into your pillow. The easy banter between you both feels like a balm, soothing the heaviness of the earlier conversation.

—

You and Cate are sitting on the bed, talking like usual, but there’s something different about today—something a little heavier in the air. Cate’s been quieter than normal, her gloved hands resting tensely in her lap, fingers curling and uncurling against the fabric. You can tell something’s bothering her, the way her gaze keeps flicking down to her hands, then back up at you, as if she’s debating something in her head.

You wait for her to speak, sensing that there’s something she wants to say but is struggling to get out. Finally, you reach over and place your hand on top of hers, your thumb tracing gentle circles over the soft leather. “Cate... what’s going on?” Your voice is full of care, inviting her to share what’s going through her head, even when you both know you already know.

It’s silent in the room for a moment before you speak again. “It’s about your gloves, right?” A gross underestimation and you both know it. “You don’t have to wear those if you don’t want to. Not around me.”

Cate’s breath hitches, her eyes widening as she pulls her hands away instinctively. “I– I do,” she whispers, almost like she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. “You don’t understand. If I touch someone, tell them to do something... they have to. I can’t just take it back. What if I say something I don’t mean? What if I hurt you without even realizing it?”

Your expression softens as you scoot closer, your knees brushing against hers. “I trust you, Cate,” you say firmly, but with a gentleness that makes her heart ache. “C’mon, I know you’d never hurt me. Not like that.”

Cate bites her lip, her gaze dropping again to the gloves. She’s heard those words from you before, but it’s hard to believe them, especially when the memories of what happened to her brother still haunt her. “It’s not that simple,” she mutters, her voice tight. “I could slip up. All it takes is– is a touch and a word, and I could—” She stutters through her words before they break off, biting her lip. The thought of losing control terrifies her.

You lean forward, holding her hands tighter, not letting go this time. “I do know,” you say softly, your eyes searching hers. “I know, Cate, what you can do, what happened to your brother, but I also know you. And I’m not scared of you because I know it wasn’t your fault. Not even a little.”

Cate’s breath catches, her heart pounding as she stares at you with wide, searching eyes. No one’s ever said that to her—not like this. Not with so much confidence in her. She wants to believe you, wants to trust that she won’t make a mistake... but the fear of losing control, of saying something she can’t take back, always lingers at the edge of her thoughts.

She looks away, her voice trembling. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’ Cate,” you interrupt gently, moving her hand up to your cheek, even with the glove still on. “You can take them off. I want you to. Please?”

Cate’s heart pounds, her fingers trembling beneath the leather. She hesitates for a long moment, her mind racing with a hundred different reasons why she shouldn’t. But something about the way you’re holding her hand—like it’s nothing, like you don’t see the danger—makes her want to try.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, she reaches for the edge of one glove, pulling it off with trembling fingers. Her hand feels exposed, vulnerable, but you don’t flinch. You just hold her gaze, calm and patient, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

She pulls off the second glove, her bare hands now resting in yours. She waits—waits for something to go wrong, for the fear to take over. But nothing happens. You don’t pull away. You don’t flinch. Instead, you gently lift her hand back to your cheek, letting her feel the warmth of your skin.

“See?” you whisper, your voice gentle. “You’re in control, Cate. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Cate’s breath hitches, her chest tight with emotion. She can hardly believe what’s happening—she’s touching you, skin to skin, and it’s okay. It’s more than okay. It feels... right.

“I never thought I’d be able to do this,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I was so scared I’d mess up... that I’d say something and lose you.”

You smile softly, still holding her hand against your cheek. “You don’t have to be afraid, not with me. I trust you, Cate. I always have.”

Cate’s heart swells, the weight of her fear slowly lifting. For the first time in what feels like forever, she feels safe. Not just because of your touch, but because of the way you believe in her—like she’s more than just her power, more than her fear.

“I... I trust you too,” she finally whispers, a small smile tugging at her lips. She holds onto your touch, the warmth of your hand grounding her in a way she’s never felt before. “Thank you. For believing in me.”

And in that moment, with your hand in hers, the fear that’s haunted her for so long feels just a little bit lighter. Light enough to get everything else off of her chest.

Cate swallows hard, feeling like her heart’s going to burst right out of her chest. She tries to steady herself, but the weight of everything she’s been bottling up is too much. She glances down at her hands, then back at you, and before she can stop herself, the words start to spill out—awkward, messy, but real. “I... I’m scared because... because I care about you. Like, a lot. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone, and... and the thought of hurting you... it just—it freaks me out.”

She looks away as soon as she says it, like she’s half-expecting you to laugh or push her away. But you don’t. Her heart skips a beat when she hears your voice, soft and closer than she expected.

Your heart skips a beat at her confession, but you don’t pull away. “Cate, you’re not gonna hurt me.” You lean in, your voice a little quieter, a little more vulnerable. “I care about you too... more than you know.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide as she stares at you like she can’t believe what she just heard. “Wait... you—you do?”

“Yeah.” You nod, looking just as nervous but still smiling a little. “I’ve felt like this for a while. I just... didn’t know how to say it.”

Cate opens her mouth, but all that comes out is this weird little half-laugh, half-gasp sound, like she’s trying to process it all. “You’re serious? You like... you’ve liked me?”

“Yeah. For a while now.”

There’s this awkward pause where you’re both kind of just staring at each other, unsure of what to say next. Cate lets out a shaky breath, her fingers twitching in your grasp, and she looks down again, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

Your smile softens, and you reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to think about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

Cate’s throat tightens, and she feels her eyes starting to sting. She blinks quickly, trying to hold back the tears, but it’s no use. They’re not just tears of fear anymore. It’s everything—relief, hope, something she hasn’t let herself feel in a long time. She leans in without really thinking, her forehead resting against yours, her voice barely audible, trembling just a little.

“Promise?” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin.

You nod, your eyes closing as you hold her just a little tighter. “Promise.”

In that moment, Cate finally lets herself believe it might be okay.

[mariacallous]

Everyone, it seems, wants a piece of Moo Deng. The baby pygmy hippo is barely two months old and already famous. So beloved on TikTok, Instagram, and X is Moo Deng that workers at Khao Kheow Open Zoo, the place in Thailand where she was born, are doing all they can to keep up with her fans’ appetite for more. They post videos, photos, updates. They also welcome thousands of visitors a day and find themselves having to defend Moo Deng when tourists throw shells at her while she’s just trying to chill.

Moo Deng, a name that means “bouncy pig,” has probably been all over your timeline lately—on Sephora makeup tutorials, on X’s main feed. She was born in July and in the past few weeks has become the Internet’s New Favorite Animal. A tradition almost as old as the internet itself, Favorite Animals—Maru, any of the dogs on the shiba inu puppy cam, those two llamas who just happened to run free the same day everyone was trying to decide what color The Dress was—come into the public consciousness seemingly out of nowhere. Some, like Doge, stick around; others disappear, or simply outgrow their cuteness, within a matter of weeks.

All of which makes capitalizing on their fame a matter of some urgency. It seems heartless to think of animals this way, but if their owners don’t, someone else will. Perhaps that’s why zoo director Narongwit Chodchoi told the Associated Press this week that the zoo has begun the process of trying to trademark and patent the hippo to avoid her likeness getting used by anyone else—a smart move considering Moo Deng mugs, T-shirts, and other merch are already popping up online. Income from these efforts, Chodcho told the wire service, could “support activities that will make the animals’ lives better.”

Moo Deng might need it. Fandom is getting a bit out of control these days. As pop stars like Chappell Roan have amassed online and offline fame, they’ve also had to use their platforms to ask for space from boundary-less fans and stalkers. Social media celebs like Drew Afualo, on whose podcast Roan appeared to talk about the subject, also tell stories of being approached in public by people who simply know them from the internet.

It may seem odd to compare them to Favorite Animals, but the ways in which people feel entitled to their time aren’t that far apart. Everyone wants something for the ’gram, even if that something is a living being with its own sense of agency. One of Moo Deng’s most popular TikToks has 34 million views, and zoo staff have had to limit her visiting time to five minutes on Saturdays and Sundays to keep too many people from trying to get content of their own.

Trademark protections may be the best way for Moo Deng’s caretakers to ensure others don’t cash in on her viral fame. When Jools Lebron made efforts to trademark her “very demure, very mindful” meme, one of the hurdles that emerged was that it’s hard to claim ownership of a phrase. As Kate Miltner, a lecturer in data, AI, and society at the University of Sheffield’s Information School, told me at the time, memes with audiovisual elements, like Nyan Cat or Grumpy Cat, are easier to register. “People will invariably try to make money off of viral or memetic content, as we've seen time and again,” Miltner says when asked about trademarking the baby hippo, adding that the Cincinnati Zoo has already done this with Fiona the Hippo. “It's smart of the Khao Kheow Open Zoo to (at least try to) ensure that they’re the ones that do so.”

Lebron seems to be figuring out how to market her moment, and Moo Deng’s keepers seem to be doing the same. Being online in 2024 means living in a state of near-constant vulnerability. You could get hacked or turned into a humiliating deepfake. Having a public opinion on a video game or The Acolyte could turn your mentions into a hellscape. And that’s what happens to filthy casuals. When you’re an ascending pop star or a baby hippo the weak spots multiply, because the world always seems hungry for more of you. It’s possible to protect yourself, even monetize yourself, but you can lose yourself, too.

Like Boaty McBoatface, Moo Deng was named by the internet. The zoo held a poll on social media. Unlike McBoatface, Moo Deng is a living thing; she’s a member of an endangered species and needs protecting. Moo Deng is more than a meme.

[gravidwithlore]

Has anyone else ever thought about curses and kink? Not just someone being cursed and then discovering a new kink, but someone having a kink and purposely trying to get cursed in a way that fulfills that kink?

Like for example, witch gf has to leave on a business trip for a weekend, but she knows her bf will be so lonely without her. Knowing her bf has a pregnancy kink, as a kinky little parting gift, she curses him so that every time he masturbates the more pregnant he gets (with what? Guess itll be a surprise). She leaves with a wink and tells him she expects to see a sweet little baby bump by the time she gets back. When she gets back 3 days later, he's already cummed himself senseless, all the way to laboring and crowning around the head of a big demon spawn. Overstimulated and whining, he's still doing his best to touch himself. Because the spawn is partially born already, the curse doesn't just grow the spawn spreading his legs, it instead creates a sibling for his leaving occupant. As she walks into their bedroom, he cums again, and she can see his belly visibly start to swell again. The witch puts down her suitcase and wonders if she can get her slutty bf to cum enough that the 2nd spawn gets big enough to be born once her bf is done cumming out it's sibling.

Or you're single, and happy that way, but still looking to get a good spanking and its so hard to find someone to do it right. Too impatient to go through the human interaction and negotiation, you go to a witch and get a custom curse. Anytime you do some inane, mildly bad habit, you get a solid SMACK! across your backside. Let's say it's something you're more likely to do at home than out in public, or a certain phrase or gesture you tell the witch you're trying not to say or do. The more you do it the more the curse evolves, changing up the position and force of each slap. Sometimes you swear you can feel the metaphysical hand lingering, as if admiring it's own work. Instead of dissuading you from doing this 'habit' the activation thing genuinely becomes a habit of yours. Once it happens accidentally in public, you realize you might have a new, but still related, kink.

A man has always secretly dreamed of becoming a hucow, and after getting tired of his draining soulless business career, he finally decided to make it a reality. They make fake social media accounts and reach out to a curse creator. He pretends he's someone else who hates him, who wants to see him suffer and be humiliated. He DMs them a whole rant about how he needs to be taken down a few pegs, how he's awful and absolutely deserves this horrible curse to change him for the rest of his life. The curse creator absolutely agrees to help, even providing him a discount out of sympathy for his fake story. Since he knows it's coming, he feels when the curse hits. It's not long until people around him start to comment on how ditsy he's been lately, how much weight he's gaining, how his voice sounds 'different.'

Eventually, he tearfully admits to his friends and family that he thinks someone's cursed him! How could he possibly know who? And no one's come forward to gloat, who could possibly hate him so much to curse him like this? His loved ones look on in sad, if slightly condescending, empathy. It's not his fault he can't keep a thought straight in his stupid little cow brain, or that he keeps getting distracted by the growing teats bouncing on his chest, or that half the time he tries to form a complete sentence he can't help but moo a little! Eventually, when he's almost unrecognizable from the person he was, a family member suggests maybe joining a farm? They have a friend who's just bought one, and they're trying to get started, besides wouldn't it be so much better to be able to roam around a farm, rather than be cramped in his city apartment?

The moment he arrives at the farm and catches sight of the big minotaur running the place, he can't help but bat his long beautiful eyelashes and let out a visceral, lowing heated moo. When the curse creator reaches out to ask them to leave a review, he rates them 5 stars. Then immediately forgets what he was doing as he rubs his hyper-sensitive gravid belly, full to bursting with the minotaur's babies already, which is miraculously dwarfed by his massive udders, hooked up to the strongest milk pump his beloved farmer could find.

[lovmura]

LOVMURA OC POSTING ✨

💗 | comms | twitter | twitch  | youtube | kofi name labeled oc image under here

[sirenvrse]

Sj2 au where bugs didn't come back for MONTHS

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[magentagalaxies]

sometimes being the director of the buddy cole documentary is an emotional rollercoaster for reasons entirely unrelated to actual controversy with the character

basically. this morning paramount took down the comedy central website and made every link redirect to paramount plus (which i do not have). previously you could find clips from every time buddy cole was a correspondent on the colbert report for free on the comedy central website, but not only are those free clips no longer up, paramount plus doesn't even have the colbert report.

so even if this craven attempt to get people to pay ransom subscribe to their streaming service worked, they didn't even take the clips with them!!!

so i was in mourning for a solid few hours this morning bc like if i'd known this was going to happen i would have at least screen-recorded each of the segments even if it meant the audio sync was a little off. but i had no idea this was going to happen and now yet another piece of buddy cole media was lost forever. and i'm used to having gaps in my timeline. stuff like scottland and the lowest show i've only been able to watch bc bellini happened to have a dvd he could digitize. and stuff like the buddy cole funny or die clips, out on the edge, and the ctv royal wedding special i may never see. but when something like this happens in real time after i've already dedicated myself to preserving and documenting the works of buddy cole, it really stings

i know i shouldn't feel like i somehow "failed buddy" for not preserving these episodes. i had no idea comedy central's parent company was going to throw out so much of their content, we're just in a literal hellscape with regards to how corporations value art. but i can't help but feel a little protective of buddy - not protective in terms of controversy, per se, controversy is a natural reaction to everything scott does with buddy cole and i don't always have to agree with everything the character stands for. i've already gotten a taste of being in my own buddy cole controversy, and it was horrible but it also felt like this is what's supposed to happen because we're now able to have this conversation. but being completely forgotten? that doesn't feel natural one bit even though it keeps happening to so much of this character's timeline.

anyway, i pasted the links into the wayback machine and even tho it could load the interface it couldn't load the videos. i found a record of each episode on the internet archive but they're all chopped into 1-2 minute clips, there's an option to "borrow" full episodes and have them mail you a flashdrive but i have no idea how that works and if i'd then be allowed to copy the episodes onto my own computer. i eventually found the colbert report is still available to purchase on itunes for $1.99 per episode - i'd need four specific episodes so that would be more like $8, which isn't too bad, but still stings just on principle. plus, what if that iTunes interface goes down someday? the only colbert report dvds are "best of" and even if i think buddy cole is the best part of anything he's in, the people making the dvds probably don't.

[tsukasalover]

sorry but i hate when people are like “what i think tsukasa would wear” or make outfits for canon him and then its something saki would actually wear. or just something he would Never Ever willingly wear. idk how to say this but he has such a Boring Big Brother Slash Dad Style. Thats like. His thing. Nothing burger. A sandwich without mayo. Its dry.

[bmpmp3]

the really beautiful landscape/skyscape animation in makoto shinkai's works tends to be the big thing i see focused on and that is understandable and deserved like the weather and lighting effects are unREAL but i do think we should also appreciate how absolute insane the plotlines of his original movies get. at least two movies with in universe catastrophes with major ecological implications. the guns and explosions. theres that one movie i havent seen yet with the guy who turns into a chair (?)

[gibbearish]

am finally back home and can say without a doubt that i am just fundamentally not built for long distance travel however the train was much nicer than planes

[be-good-to-bugs]

maybe i am cool and fun to be around. i feel like people dont like me but ive hardly been around anyone in so long so i have no proof of that.