#like that was already an insane thing to say in theory but NOW.

[callmecharlie09]

Some analasys on Mouthwashing

This is quite litteraly my first post on the game, but i wanted to shoot my shot incase someone finds this, i rlly need to talk about this beautiful masterpiece.

People often talk about the game regarding the playthrough and theories and whatnot which is obv normal, considering thats what you need to use as a source of analasys, but one thing I never myself have seen is people talking about the title of the game itself.

I found it random how mouthwashing of all things was the word chosen from it, seeing how it is only pretty relevant in the game when the crew starts using it as a substitue for food or smth after running short on it. However, it obviously means alot more if it is the name to represent the game, and this is my take on it ^^

One thing that caught my eye is that the entire crew had hid something from the rest at one point or another, pre and post crash. Anya had hidden her abuse taken from Jimmy after Curly didnt do anything, Daisuke telling Jimmy about his problems with his mom when drunk, Swansea keeping away the escape pod so Daisuke could use it, and Jimmy and Curly are mostly related to Anyas situation, but also the scene where Curly told the crew about them being fired, making Jimmy felt lied to in a sense. So what does this mean? I feel like the mouthwash is suppose to be a 'metaphor' for the expression "to wash your mouth out with soap". Normally, this expression is used when someone says something bad or something they shouldnt have said, and in a more overexagerated sense, 'to clense your sins'. So could it basically mean that it is a weird punishment for every crew member not being truthful? Especially in dire situations? It might be, but I have another theory for it.

Another thing is the suffering the mouthwash brought to the others. One might assume that, despite the minty taste and liquid form, mouthwash would still be enough to help them survive, seeing as how its sugar contents woupd help them live for long enough to get rescued, but that doesnt seem to happen in anyones case.

The moment they discover the mouthwash storage boxes, Anyas first instinct was to read what it contained, and she immediatly panicked when she saw it had too much sugar to be used for Curly to tend to his injuries, already being a problem to two of the members. Swansea and Daisuke (mostly Swansea) took advantage of the alcohol that it contained, striking back Swanseas addiction that he sobered up from and making Daisuke think about his mother solemnly, and Jimmy is the only one left. He has the smallest disatvantage when it comes to him as a singular person, but as now captain, he sees it as him getting the biggest one, with having to make the others survive on mouthwash alone while he goes madder and more insane everyday, becoming less stable than before and distancing himself from everyone.

Thats basically all that I have to say, it might've been obvious to others, but I only thought about this a few days ago lol (im sorry for bad english).

Bye chat <3

[waitingforminjae]

like i have no words. like. he did do that.

HE DID DO THAT.

[clawsextended]

in my perfect world everyone makes so many lesbian muses the men then have to deal with the exact same behavior when every single post ever written isn’t about dick.

[stuffedsand]

for the violence ask game: 8 common fandom opinion everyone is wrong about. for milgram. i know exactly what you're going to say i just want to see you go off again

Hiii bestie. You do know what I'm about to talk about. Yippee

Disclaimer that this whole essay is like. For fun and how I say things is ramped up to be funny. I don't mind if you disagree w me cuz like that's the nature of things! We disagree but we can get along.

Anyways short answer for people who don't wanna see the essay: organ harvesting theory. This is about shidou.

Idk how prevalent it is rn since not many people even talk about shidou but it was prevalent enough in June when I got into milgram that I believed it for a bit anyways the rest in under the cut cuz I'm insane sorrg

SO the main reason I think the theory is WRONG (hyperbole‼️) is because I just think it's unrealistic. Man works in a hospital in Japan. How would he pull it off. Scuff an operation bad enough to cause braindeath/death and I'm p sure they suspend your medical licence, if he participated in an organ harvesting operation pre-family-accident his case would then be black and white cuz he was doing it in complete sound mind with no regard for human life. Also it wouldn't justify the extreme reaction he's had to realizing, specifically, "what I've been robbing people of" (t1 voice trailer), and he wouldn't have as heavy a focus on the relatives' feelings and reactions. At least story writing wise it'd make less sense since it doesn't allude to anything if that's the end goal? Imo at least. Idk maybe this is because I really like tragedies in media. Also because it'd be a really disproportionately severe crime compared to every other direct murderer???? Like. We have strangled someone, stabbed someone, bludgeoning, bludgeoning, kicked someone to death. Organ harvesting looks cartoony in this context. It's also not a very prevelant issue in Japan iirc.

Also to prove my point further. If we use this theories the murders would be

Strangling, abortion??????, cyber bullying, stabbing, organ harvesting, toxic r/s, telling the truth (lmao), bludgeoning, bludgeoning, bludgeoning (minus weapon). Organ harvesting is goofy cuz it seems so.... Extreme,,,,,,,

ALSSOOOOO funny point. If he's not directly involved in his murder (as in, unintentional and indirect) that makes 5 direct and 5 indirect. Silly.

Also also his murder seems somewhat tied to how he feels about his job itself ("I wanted to contribute to society (about his career choice)/I had thought my work was a contribution to society", use of past tense) and to me it reads like hes disillusioned w his job esp since his reason for getting a highly sought after, high paying and high social ranking job is "I wanted to contribute to society". Doctors with that empathy can be affected by the death around them more severely and I think that's a fun topic to look at

I count this under "common fandom opinion" cuz it was common enough around June (whenyours truesly got into milgram) that I believed it. I mean I introduced shidou to my friend (hello clown) as "maybe Dr malpractice. Organ harvesting dude" and said friend (hello again clown) is also the one who's heard me bash the organ harvesting theory like 6 times at least now so. Yippee.

Take none of this seriously I just got off a plane and am so very eepy. If you like the organ harvesting theory good for you!!!!!!!💥💥💥💥💥 you do you bestie !!!!!!!!!!!!!! I literally do not think less of anyone who believes that theory I just personally dont lmao

[hauntingblue]

I ❤️

IN-BETWEEN ARC EPISODES

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗦𝗢𝗙𝗧 𝗟𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗖𝗛 | 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗠

　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x actress!reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and Chris have been in a stable relationship hidden from the media for years, until they were forced by it to do a soft launch.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, from anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: Matt's version.

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tagged: ynsinstagram , strangerthingstv

liked by ynsinstagram, sturniolotriplets and 12,748,207 others

netflix ALIVE. BROKEN. FINAL SEASON. #StrangerThings5 soon, only on Netflix.

view all 853,472 comments

fallontonight OMG OMG OMG OMG

ynfan5 WHEN????? IT'S BEEN 2 YEARS 😭

ynfan3 if they kill Y/N, I'll die too

stfan7 we NEED bts pics right now!!!

ynsinstagram 📼

ynfan2 WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???

ynfan9 you traumatized us after season 4

stfan4 ready to run into a brick wall

ynfan2 alexa play running up that hill by kate bush

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liked by matthew.sturniolo, madisonbeer and 392,273 others

christophersturniolo where's my Nancy at?

view all 10,739 comments

sturniolofan1 I VOLUNTEER

sturniolofan4 OMG????

sturniolofan8 apparently my name is Nancy now

ynandsturniolofan2 NETFLIX COME HERE ‼️

matthew.sturniolo guess you've got the wrong character buddy

sturniolofan6 what's that supposed to mean 😭

ynandsturniolofan3 HAPPY HALLOWEEN

madisonbeer can I be Robin?

nicolassturniolo 📼

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(for the sake of it, pretend this is chris 😭)

liked by sturniolofan6, ynfan4 and 1,028,299 others

people YouTuber Christopher Sturniolo was seen on the set of Stranger Things early today, in Atlanta. Unknown sources stated that he was about to enter the trailer of actress Y/N Y/L/N, holding two containers with food and calling her "baby".

view all 839,744 comments

ynfan6 who?

ynfan3 oh no, here we go again

sturniolofan4 what the ACTUAL FUCK?????

ynandsturniolofan7 OMG MATT'S COMMENT ON CHRIS POST

sturniolofan5 it all makes sense now

ynfan9 he's so out of her league

sturniolofan2 girl stfu

ynfan12 they're not even dating, what're you saying

ynfun5 why is he kinda

sturniolofan0 hot? yeah, we know

ynandsturniolofan1 now that would be my dream couple right there

sturniolofan17 NO WAY he went from LA to Atlanta only to see her filming 😩 shut up I love them already 🙌🏻

ynfan0 wait bc they would look so cute together 😞

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tagged: milliebobbybrown , djotime , calebmclaughlin , gatenm123

liked by nicolassturniolo, haileybieber and 4,082,299 others

ynsinstagram was attacked by a demogorgon and his crew for the tenth time, does that mean I'm tough?

view all 946,732 comments

ynandsturniolofan4 the pic of steve with the bat from 1st season while filming the 5th 🧐

sturniolofan3 IKR??? I'm going insane rn with all those theories

ynfan3 the most stunning person ON EARTH

ynfan9 I need to know who she's looking at on the 5th pic with THAT look

stfan2 time to rebinge all 4 seasons for the 10th time

milliebobbybrown Y/N tough girl era

ynsinstagram 🤟🏻💪🏻

calebmclaughlin when I grow up I want to fly like you

christophersturniolo the toughest

(this comment was deleted)

sturnioloandynfan5 ANYBODY ELSE SAW CHRIS COMMENT TOO????

ynfan1 I DID AND OMG???? what's happening 😭

ynandsturniolofan3 I'M GONNA COLAPSW

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liked by djotime, matthew.sturniolo and 528,369 others

christophersturniolo let's exchange the experience ✨️🕹📼

view all 374,483 comments

stfan3 is that the headphones Y/N used on 4th season?

ynfan8 oh, hey joe, strange seeing you around here 🤡

sturniolofan6 isn't he Steve on ST?

ynfan8 yeah 😭

sturniolofan7 FAMILY VIDEO????

sturnioloandynfan3 wtf are you doing at Steve's and Robin's work? 🧐

nicolassturniolo kate bush at its peak

sturniolofan0 THE MOST HANDSOME ‼️

ynfan12 the cassete... anyone else thinking what I'm thinking?

sturniolofan4 yeah...

ynfan16 totally

sturnioloandynfan18 my heart is going insane right now

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liked by christophersturniolo, milliebobbybrown and 4,498,699 others

ynsinstagram red converse is the new hype, madmax called it

view all 1,838,713 comments

ynfan6 no fucking way

stfan5 soft launch! soft launch! soft launch!

sturniolofan14 I'm in shock

sturniolofan13 chris got a girlfriend and she's the most angelic girl in the world 😭

ynfan5 WE LOST HER 😞

milliebobbybrown your taste in clothes is awful

ynandsturniolofan8 at least her taste in guys is better

nattyiceofficial cuties 🩷

ynsinstagram I love you natty!

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tagged: ynsinstagram

liked by ynsinstagram, sturniolotriplets and 1,738,699 others

christophersturniolo found my Nancy guys!

view all 838,713 comments

ynfan2 oh my god

sturniolofan6 NO WAY CHRIS GOT A GIRL FR

sturniolofan9 she's so fucking pretty

ynfan4 how did he do it?

matthew.sturniolo simp simp simp

christophersturniolo you would be the same if you bagged a girl like mine

ynfan0 A GIRL LIKE MINE SMOASMXJX

sturniolofan5 THIS IS TOO CUTE STOP

ynfan0 the rizz is insane

ynfan13 they're both so fucking lucky omh

nicolassturniolo FINALLY 🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

sturniolofan3 I just know nick was dying to let this information out

josephquinn so happy for you two!!

dacremontgomery take care of my little sister, man

christophersturniolo always

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tagged: ynsinstagram , christophersturniolo

liked by ynsinstagram, christophersturniolo and 7,498,699 others

enews During the interview "Y/N Y/L/N on Max Mayfield's Journey | Stranger Things | Netflix", Y/N commented on her romantic relationship with YouTuber Christopher Sturniolo, "... we've been together for two years, I met him on the street in Los Angeles when Nick (Nicolas Sturniolo, Christopher brother) came to ask for a picture and I immediately recognized them, I mean, who don't know the Sturniolo Triplets, right?", "... he makes me the happiest I've ever been. Being a girl who grew up in the spotlight, he makes me feel normal."

If you want to know more about Y/N, her role as Max Mayfield, and her relationship, check the link in our bio.

view all 3,838,713 comments

ynfan4 she's the cutest, omg

sturniolofan8 I want what these bitches have

ynfan0 she is glowing

sturnioloandynfan2 she's so in love 🥹

sturniolofan5 he is too! have you seen the triplets last video?

ynfan12 he can't stop talking about her 😭

christophersturniolo ❤️

ynsinstagram 🩷

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taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @earth2starkey @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @junnniiieee07 @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @hpyjw @colorthecosmos444 @thewhispersofthewaves @mattslolita @imwetforyourmom @mrl217 @delilahsversion @sturnsmia @mattsfavbitchhh @sturnioloshacker @soursturniolo @blahbel668 @sarosfilms @moncherriis @tobesolonelyjess @zayyluvz

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[shutupineedtothink]

More ep 7 thoughts, now that I’ve watched it twice and processed 🫠

Bookending the episode with Lilia’s fall but first it’s down and then it’s up - sick, twisted, beautiful, devastating, I’m crying

The soundtrack really goes hard in this ep

The wildest part about the “ex best friend” line is all of those things are equally insane - ex, ex best friend, or best friend. Like ma’am what hex were you living in

Babysitter is likely a reference to the comics, but interesting also in terms of WV because we saw Agatha babysit the twins only once I think. Does this mean she actually spent more time with them than we know?

Wow once again Kathryn Hahn is doing so much work in this first scene with Billy, she’s going from snarky to wary to calculating to hurt to i don’t even know. She’s doing a masterclass in face acting.

When they start to climb toward the castle, Agatha has her hands clasped behind her back and initially I was just like ma’am, why are you like this, but then I realized oh. Her hands are tied right now.

Waning moon for the Crone trial babyyyyyy called it

Fun and fast transition to get us into the trial, since we know the deal by now

She’s based on me you know — sooooo, tragic, misunderstood, secretly suffering her whole life, constantly judged by others, uh huh uh huh

Prove it - he really doesn’t believe a word she says! And she looks so hurt by it!

The way Agatha sits in the chair omg girl please chill

This is such like an Indiana Jones trap I love it

God I love Lilia’s visions, changing the perspective to hers, the blurring around the edges - sometimes you don’t need to do much, but it’s hella effective

Actually a lot of good camera tricks in this ep I’m not going to point them all out

It’s about limiting beliefs baybeee - once again the writers showing they know their psych

I’m sorry that tea leaves to the underground transition??? Spectacular

“Well tell me what more I should see when I look at you. No, I mean it” - hey nonviolent communication, how’s it going 🤌

God can you imagine how scary it would be to have these visions as a CHILD

Did you not see imminent impalement in your future?? Lol why did this get me

I get the fake nose on Agatha but idk maybe I could’ve done without it

Teenager his full name LOLOL underrated joke

Dory OMGGGGG

Jen being the ultimate Lilia champion this ep and I love it. Also seems to contradict her behavior even more in Agatha’s trial, but she’s still more snappy with Agatha here too

What are you wearing, I don’t wanna talk about it - bruh every line. EVERY LINE.

Did I mention the transitions are killer

Your task is not to control but to see. - I, I can’t keep writing down every line but

I love that as soon as Jen knows what’s going on, she’s totally on board, just asking Lilia for intel, like yep this is normal now

Ahhh the spell book. Interesting that Lilia finds it.

Ohp - I wish Lilia was here. Ask and you shall receive - see the Billy’s Road theory

She calls him baby again 😭

Is snappy dialogue one of my biggest joys on this earth? I think it is

Proper tarot takes time and care. And leads to large gaping wounds - …. You mean like internal wounds? Like trauma? Like you have to bring up the trauma to heal it? Uh huh uh huh cool cool cool cool you said it Agatha not me.

The Magician, the ability to turn all of your goals into reality - Agatha immediately side eyes him. Bruh.

I’m a forgotten woman. Then remember yourself. 🤌🤌🤌

I was falling. I will fall. - CAMERA. MOVEMENT.

What will you do with your remaining time 🤝 all we can do is decide what to do with the time that is given to us. Iykyk.

The subway baybeee get that House of R theory

God this tarot spread scene is so epic.

Ok Jen being the path ahead… I gotta come back to that

Agatha is the obstacle yep that makes sense (but the obstacle is the way)

Windfall - Billy, miraculous transformation uh yep ok

Destination - Death. Such a good reveal, even if I already knew it. Once again the power of good writing. In the end all roads lead to me. UGH WTF

NOT THE GREEN VINES SPELLING A BIG OL “R” WHEN THE DOORS OPEN

The original green witch…. Ok so she is in the coven… but also Billy’s in the coven? It’s a shared black heart? Or it means you can go one direction or the other… hm.

Ughghghghhh her just giving them each what they need before she sends them onward. She’s the GOAT.

Did I mention the music????

This whole scene is so EPIC. The tower upright fuck it up queen

Oh my God Lilia took her power back 😭

We didn’t see a body unlike Alice I’m holding onto that “see you at the end” lyric with all my might at this point

Time in a bottle was sick and twisted and beautiful I love it

I just… can’t believe this is something I got to witness. Like it’s so good I’m mad about it.

A few other quick thoughts:

Jen being the path ahead… if she was birth in the first trial (see my maiden mother crone trial theory), then maybe she’s also REbirth? It’s a circle sewn with fate… we’re going back to the beginning but emerging from the Road this time. Eh??

Patti…. PATTI!! Where’s her Emmy? Where’s the show’s Emmy???

Not only was this a better time travel plot than the rest of Marvel as I said in another post but it’s also better than time travel in Doctor Who for the last 10 years and that pisses me off low key.

Not to jump ahead but buckle up kids cuz if we’re following the loose structure of WandaVision then ep 8 is our flashback/reliving the trauma episode for Agatha and as much as I was destroyed by this ep I am so not ready for all of that.

Anyway. What a masterpiece. I’m DONE.

[taniahylian]

Paulina and Regulus

Okay, I'mma post this cuz I think I'm going insane (I probably am), but here me out. There's too many coincidences that point out to there being a connection between the two, even if don't know exactly what kind of connection.

First let's start for the most obvious thing... Paulina's blue polka dot scarf.

It's not the same as Regulus', obviously, but it is very similar. Yet, if this was the only coincidence I wouldn't be making this theory... yet here I am.

Next it's this peace sign sticker that's next to Paulina's picture at the restaurant, but also on Regulus' backpack. Again, on it's own could be just a coincidence, but maybe it's not.

In that picture it says Apple on the background, and there's an apple in that same poster, and I don't think I need to saw how this connects to Regulus. To the side there's also a vinyl disc, like those Regulus always carries with her, which wouldn't be a big deal... except we're in the 1990's, when using CD's was already a lot more popular than vinyls.

And there's also the fact that Paulina's mom married J's father, who was from a world-famous family of alchemists. How is this relevant to Regulus? Well, she's an alchemical genius. Maybe Paulina's mom had an interest in alchemy too and that's how she ended up meeting J's dad.

Now... I want to point out that, at least to me Regulus and Paulina look quite similar.

It's not a one-to-one resemblance, of course, but they look similar enough for me to think they might be related, maybe, especially since Paulina's blue scarf was a gift from her parents. That said... as funny as it'd be to say to Regulus "So you are a mother!", I don't think that's the case at all. Firstly because Paulina is French, while Regulus is British, but most importantly because Paulina is human; she doesn't have any powers at all.

Of course we don't know Regulus' lineage, so she could be only half-arcanist, and therefore she'd be able to have a mostly-human child if she married a pure blood human, but... I don't think that's the case. Sonetto says in ch1 that Regulus' talent is rated "S", which most likely mean she's either pure blood, or very close to it, so any child she had would be at least a half-blood arcanist.

That said... the dates would match. Regulus was 15 in 1966, and lets assume Paulina was the same age when she left J, let's say 1989, one year before the event takes place. That'd mean Paulina was born in 1974, and Regulus would've been 23 years old at that point. However, if she is Paulina's mom, she died very young (around 30 years old?), as we know Paulina and J became orphans soon after becoming sibilings... and, believe it or not, the fact that Regulus would die young is actually hinted at by Mr. Apple in the mini chapter after ch7.

So... it is possible that Regulus had a child with a French person, said child, Paulina, happened to be born without powers despite her arcanist lineage (like Kumar, for example), then they moved to San Francisco, where Regulus met J's father, bonded with him thanks to their shared love of alchemy, got married and then died soon after. However... idk, it doesn't seem right to me? I think there might be different kind of connection between them, although I'm not sure what.

Maybe I'm just losing my head, idk. Most likely, honestly, but it's fun to speculate XD

Anyways, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.

[hinalatte]

An Attempt at Analyzing David Chiem’s Motivations

and a bunch of other stuff that got in there somehow

Ch2 Ep12 spoilers ahead! (And spoilers for the Literature Girl Insane MV picture if you haven’t seen it already)

So, Ch2 Ep12 changed some things about my perception of David. I was under the impression that the way he was acting in the trial was because of a self destructive breakdown, but the latest episode reveals that he’s making an attempt at altruism.

But I still think he’s having a self destructive breakdown. The end result is still the same—he dies, he ruins his public image. This is still, objectively, self destructive behavior. He just has a motivation to make it “worth it” now.

I believe David wants to be a good person. He just doesn’t know how to be one. He feels like he may never be one. Xander is that good person David wishes he was, so he’s dedicating himself to following what Xander would do. If Xander was good, he can also be good by following his example. (I made a theory about something like this a while back, go read my David Chiem and colors analysis if you’re curious)

So let’s return to that picture of David holding Xander’s jacket, with the context of this episode.

First of all, the “you” in these quotes is most definitely Xander.

1. I became a villain in pursuit of your dream.

We know what this means. David acted up during the trials to look guiltier so that the trial would end up with a misvote. He’s actively trying to end the lives of everyone there because of what Xander tried and failed to do in Chapter 1. But what I’m curious about is what Xander’s “dream” really was. He never said anything about wanting to end the killing game by dying. The only thing he tried to do was kill Teruko.

David pauses before stating that his motive was to end the killing game by eliminating the entertainment value. His expression is also pretty suspicious. It sounds like something he made up on the spot. And if he wanted to end the killing game by not being entertaining, why did he go against everyone’s plan of doing nothing and killing no one? Why did he fan the flames by telling everyone to admit their secrets? The conflict that stemmed from his actions was what made the second chapter entertaining to begin with. So I don’t think this truly was his motive for trying to get everyone killed. I think he was following in Xander’s footsteps. He’s trying to kill Teruko.

We all remember the secret David got, right?

I think most of us agree that him saying this was Xander’s secret was a lie. He waited until everyone was done talking so he could make sure no one had Xander’s actual secret, and then he pinned it on him. He also has an extremely high opinion of Xander and gets upset when people slander him, so I don’t think there’s any way he would admit to this being Xander’s secret unless it wasn’t actually Xander’s secret. I think he’s saying it’s Xander because he feels comfortable using his name for his goals, since they’re “partners in crime” in his mind. That secret is definitely Teruko’s.

I think when Xander initially attempted to kill Teruko, David was conflicted about how to feel. But once he got Teruko’s secret, it made sense. Xander was a hero and Teruko was a villain, and David had to do what Xander couldn’t. His ploy to get everyone killed is so Teruko has to be killed alongside them.

That’s my theory, anyway. I could be wrong, especially considering David could’ve tried to kill Teruko with his own hands if he really did want her dead. But it’s also possible he didn’t do that because he knew she would have survived it somehow.

2. I threw away my humanity for an ideal that I couldn’t understand.

What’s interesting to me here is the use of the word “couldn’t”. It’s not that he “didn’t” understand Xander’s ideals. It’s that he “couldn’t”, because he doesn’t understand Xander’s altruism. Every time he talks about his motivations in this episode, it’s about Xander. He even frames the moral dilemma of killing everyone there for the greater good from Xander’s perspective—16 lives, which was how many there were when Xander attempted murder, rather than 13, which is how many there are as David is saying this.

David doesn’t know how to be a good person. He believes Xander is the only good person he’s ever known, so he’s blindly following what “Xander would do” in hopes of doing something good.

This is especially interesting to me because becoming a good person has been a theme this whole chapter. Arei used Eden as a reference for what a good person looked like as well. But that’s an essay for another time!

3. But I don’t regret it. To “regret” is to imply that I could have done anything else.

I’m pretty sure the only thing keeping David going is Xander’s legacy. He doesn’t have much faith in himself as a person, so it’s either give up or give everything to the ideals of the man he believed in.

This line makes it pretty evident to me that even though he’s acting like he knows what he’s doing, he still feels lost. But at the same time, when you’re lost in a maze, the only thing you can do is follow the path ahead of you.

4. I never told you, but the truth is, I wasn’t capable of ever becoming human in the first place.

The idea of being human is present in a lot of things relating to David’s character. This 4th quote in particular seems to be a response to this line by Xander, from their “role models” conversation.

David is also associated with the book No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai through the Literature Girl Insane MV. No Longer Human is about a man that feels so detached from other people that it’s like he’s not even one of them. To fit in, he pretends to be what they expect him to be, but he never truly feels connected to them.

“Mine has been a life of much shame. I can’t even guess myself what it must be to live the life of a human being.”

I think it’s safe to guess that David feels a similar way.

David is disoriented by normal human interaction. The ways in which he interacts with people are entirely based on their perception of him. He’s an upstanding role model when that’s what they expect, and a callous villain once they accuse him of murder. He acts that way to further his goals, sure, but it’s still isolating. As he says, his relationships are fake, because he himself is a fake person.

He feels like he fundamentally lacks what other humans have. This could mean a whole slew of things, but I think the most relevant one right now is ideals. David doesn’t have ideals of his own in the way Xander does. Xander believes in fighting for what’s right. David is so disconnected from other people that he doesn’t even know what “right” is.

The line where Xander calls David “human” is in the context that David isn’t a perfect role model. It’s interesting that he seems to be arguing against that. Not because he’s perfect. It seems to me like he’s saying “I am not, and never will be, like you.”

And of course, the “I never told you” is because Xander is dead. He never got to know David’s true self.

5. So in the end, you are always—

I genuinely have no idea what this means. If somebody has even the smallest clue…my ask box is open. Please.

Conclusion

Is killing the entire cast really something Xander would do? Who knows! But David sure seems to think so, and he’s apparently the one who knows Xander the best. Nevertheless, it’s leading to a lot of interesting conflict.

I also want to note that I might be making it sound like David has low self esteem. I don’t mean that. Very little has been confirmed about David’s inner psyche. But here’s my interpretation, for fun’s sake:

David has a low opinion of himself, but he also has an ego. When you think of yourself as fundamentally different from other people, that can lead to you developing a sense of superiority over it. Like you’re the only one in the world with some knowledge others don’t have. This is a mindset people with depression can easily develop. Teruko acts this way as well, a little bit. She literally calls herself a main character. David also calls himself a main character in his MV, alongside Xander.

He also doesn’t seem to respect Hu’s opinion, judging by this sprite. It’s like him and Xander are the only ones who know what has to be done, and everyone else just doesn’t understand.

But he still has low self esteem. He sees Xander as someone who is just better than him, and thinks he’s too bad of a person to improve. People can think they’re worse and better than others at the same time. It’s very interesting. But again, that’s just my interpretation, going off of vibes more than anything else.

I’ll also mention here that I think David knew Xander from news articles before the killing game started. Xander was an activist. David might’ve seen some of the things he did, like the Chariton case, on the news at some point. He might have admired him for it.

That’s all for today. They are very intriguing to me. I will be back later about non-Xanvid things.

[golden-afternoon]

Yeah I was working on another actual fic but uhhh the 'Nari brainrot took over so uhhh here take me going insane over him and rambling about what comes to my mind. Kay? Kay.

Warnings - nsfw, mating cycle talk from a person who only has google by her side, absolutely not proofread having gone straight from brain to paper, and just know there is a solid chance I'll have more to say about this in the future.

Tighnari, by his very nature, is a very compartmentalized person. His own problems stay within himself to be dealt with later when he is done and everyone else's needs are already attended to. Always concerned with helping others and keeping things in order, even to the point of staying up into the early hours of the morning, less concerned with himself than those around him. If he’s ever struggling with anything at all, he will do absolutely everything in his power to keep anyone from knowing about it, much less something as personal as this.

In the early months of the year, especially as Lantern Rite nears, Tighnari becomes withdrawn. Quieter, more distant. The Forest Watchers have been talking for forever back and forth swapping theories and rumors in not so hushed tones.

“I heard Master Tighnari lost a family member around this time of year.”

“Really? I heard he just reeeeally hates any kind of festivities especially Lantern Rite because it's so noisy, even when not in Liyue.”

“I dunno, maybe he's just sensitive to the cold?”

Unlike the usual case where he was quick to nip such chatter in the bud and tell off the Rangers for gossiping, he remains entirely silent on the issue, otherwise carrying on as usual. Setting up excursions, documenting his findings, helping and guiding wherever he was needed…

Until he just can't stand it anymore. With hardly a word, save perhaps to Collei to ask her to care for things in his absence, he retreats, hiding himself away in his hut, barricading himself in completely so no nosy Rangers have any reason to loiter around.

He hates it.

He understands it's natural and it's going to happen and blah blah blah, but it was such a nuisance to his life he would give anything to not have to put up with it. The worst of it usually lasts a week or two before he can at least carry some semblance of normalcy and feel willing and able to return to work, but while he's in it, it drives him insane.

Some years it's so bad that he can't even focus on anything other than the absolutely filthy thoughts that plague his mind, his hands shaking so hard he can't even hold a pen long enough to attempt any sort of work. Even like this he just doesn't feel right not being productive especially when he's always running around here and there the rest of the year, why should this be any different?

Head slamming into his desk with a groan, a flush curling up his cheeks and neck. Eventually he has to crack, begrudgingly caring for the needs that grow and grow and grow and become nigh insatiable during his rut.

It starts out almost clinical, looking to just take care of a symptom of an illness almost. Face flushed, lips curled into a deep frown, he sits at his desk, fisting his cock with precision, hoping to get it over with as fast as possible by hitting everything just right.

But no. After dealing with this for years you think he would have known by now that just once isn't enough, yet he still hopes year after year. It only gets worse. Over and over and over again until he's just sore and it hurts. Until he can't keep jerking it lest he make his own skin turn raw. By this point he usually finds himself in his bed, ears flat and face buried into some blankets to muffle the pathetic whimpers that left his lips as he kept grinding his hips into the pillows over and over and over and over, chasing even the slightest modicum of relief.

And most of the time, as annoying as it is, it was completely fine for him to just be stuck imagining some faceless, nameless mate beneath him as he struggled to sate these urges. However, if Tighnari has a bit of a crush… Well, he'd be in for a rude awakening if he hadn't already acknowledged his feelings for you.

I could see poor Tighnari getting almost ill as he realized the cute moans he was imagining sounded a little too much like your voice. Everything freezes for a moment, his stomach lurching both from the realization and the sudden loss of friction when he faltered. He tries so hard to brush it aside, chastising himself for pulling you into his filthy mind right then. But it doesn't stop. Your face, your voice, your skin. Everything. Everything stays in his mind and he cannot stop it. He feels such overwhelming shame about it, but… he does eventually give in and just let whatever fantasies take root, especially since it seems to ease the feelings when he does.

But when he sees you after the worst of it is over and he leaves his hut, guilt grips around his heart and memories of those fantasies rush into his head, leaving him turning on his heel to avoid you at all costs, honestly risking you thinking he hates you with how intensely he's ignoring you.

It's even worse because Tighnari considers hiding in his hut again for even longer as usually he was fine when the worst of it passed, he could resume his duties, but with you around, he could feel his hands shaking, the intense urge to find you wherever you were and pin you down immediately was so strong it scared him a little. Sometimes it caught him off guard too, like he would catch your scent on the breeze and while in his rut, he would genuinely get so horny so fast he's gotten lightheaded, having to catch himself on whatever was nearby so he didn't go crashing down.

If he hated his rut before, the shame of all this made him absolutely loathe it.

Maybe one day you can find a way to make it a liiiiittle more bearable for him ♡

[macfrog]

secrets cowboy like me chapter fourteen

one day i'll rein my chapters back in. today is not that day. thirteen thousand words of...a little bit of fucking and a lot of fighting. i love you all and i still can't believe the love you continue to show this series. you're all actually insane. i present to you: the penultimate chapter of cowboy.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: the one where...everybody finds out.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), a big argument, a lot of guilt, angry disappointed dad, one mention of alcohol consumption, lil bit of sub!joel, unprotected piv, tiny bit of degradation, tiny bit of praise kink, creampie, cursing, smut, fluff, angst 

word count: 12.9k (dry heaves) 

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡

You haven’t slept a wink. Not one second.

You and Joel were awake until one in the morning on the phone; you – panicking, spilling words into the receiver, watching different cuts of your dad realizing everything as though projected across your blank ceiling, and Joel – monotone as fucking ever, batting every single theory away.

He doesn’t know a damn thing, he’d said. You didn’t miss the way his words hung over the edge of the sentence, trembling almost.

You scoffed and hissed back down the line. You don’t fucking know that! How can you know that?

You think he just found out about us and thought, Hey, better get some shut-eye before I deal with this? Really, baby?

I think he doesn’t know what he found out. I think he’s probably tryna convince himself that he’s wrong.

So, let him. He’s wrong. We go with that.

Joel knew he wasn’t doing anything to calm you down. Wasn’t offering anything you could seriously take on. You know he wasn’t trying to.

He was as worried as you were – he was just pretending not to be, because what fucking good would it do to have the two of you bouncing off one another with panic?

Still, he stayed on the phone the entire night. When he fell asleep, you lay in bed and tossed everything over in your head like tearing back the pages of a diary. Last night, then Frank’s, then the weekend before that, then the Hillcrest – all the way back to that first ride home. The pissing rain, the boxes of nails rattling in the glove compartment with each sway of the truck. Recalling every word spoken, every move made, every expression pulled and glance stolen and fucking breath taken.

Any sound from beyond your door shot a bullet of adrenaline through your veins, coursing through your body like ice. As if it was your dad, barreling in at 3AM to have it out with you.

You reckon you’d be ready if he did. Wide-eyed, fists clenched, heart hammering.

Joel groans back to life at eight. You hear the ruffling of bedsheets, the crackle down the line as he drags the phone across his mattress and pins it to his ear. You lift your own. Joel and 08:43:36, 37, 38 underneath it on the screen.

His voice drums low and groggy from the speaker. “You are gonna have my phone bill through the damn roof. I’m exhausted, darlin’.”

“I can’t think of anything else. He knows, Joel.”

He sighs. You can see his head falling into his hand, see his thumb rubbing circles into his temple. “Let’s just see what happens, alright? There ain’t any chance you left your phone in the living room ‘n he came across it, thought he’d keep it for you comin’ home?”

“I’ve barely left my room all week. Why would it be down there?”

Joel’s quiet. He just breathes down the line. After a minute, he clears his throat.

“Come over, would ya?”

“Huh?”

“Come over. I wanna see you. I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Joel, I’m –”

“Hey. Don’t make me ask again, alright? C’mon, now. I got some errands to run; you’re coming with me.”

He doesn’t have to say much else to convince you; you’re already pulling your bedsheets back and hanging up. Your hoodie and shorts are still hooked over the foot of your bed. The sun filters through the drapes, edges you nearer the door. Your chest fills with something calling itself bravery, and slowly, quietly – you click the door open.

The hallway is silent. A blushing gold in the morning light. The house is still – eerily still. Your dad’s room door is open, bed made, sheets tucked neatly under the mattress. Like he had time to spend on it. Stuff to mull over as he made it.

The carpet softens your footsteps when you finally move for the stairs. The birds are singing outside. The wallpaper canvases your shadow, a little monster creeping along one step behind you, passing picture frames which dazzle with sunrays and mirror a half-lit reflection back to you. One side you – the other, missing.

You lean over the last step, craning your head and shoulders into the hallway. The clock on the wall opposite ticks to no one. Tick tick tick tick. And aside from it, from its taunting tutting, there are no other signs of life. His jacket hangs from the peg. His boots lying below, laces tangled.

The sun separates into brittle shards through the window, illuminating the way to the kitchen. You’re not fucking prepared to follow it.

Shoulders hunched, like it might make a difference, you step forward and lower your thumb and index finger over your keys, aiming for them like a shaky arcade claw machine. Tick tick tick. They jingle as you hook your fingertip through them. Your nose wrinkles.

“Hey.”

He appears around the corner like an apparition. The keys drop back to the unit with a violent clatter.

“Jesus!”

“Woah, woah.” Your dad holds a palm up, laughing nervously. “Sorry. Where you headed?”

“Uh, J– Sarah’s. Some errands she wants some help with.”

He nods. “Yeah? You don’t want breakfast first?”

You drag your eyes to meet his for the first time. He looks drawn, skin like webbing, as though it’s just draped over his skull. As though you could put your finger through it like parchment, just push straight through. He looks like he’s had about as much sleep as you have.

“No, thanks,” you say, the sunken, sullen sight of him crumbling your voice to dust. Your lips move wordlessly, waiting for another lie from your tongue to offer over. But between the way he looks, weary and forlorn, and the thin veil of truth left between you – nothing materializes.

“Why don’t you – why don’t you hold back a second?” Dad beckons you forward, folding his fingers to his palm. “Got somethin’ I wanna talk to you about.”

“Dad, I really gotta go, I –”

“Just – come on. I’m sure Sarah won’t mind.”

He disappears without waiting for a response. Shifts back into the living room, shadow following him like a cloak across the door. You hear the creak of his chair as he settles down into it, the unsettling squeal of leather and spring.

Your feet are planted to the hall floor. To move in either direction feels like a trap. To follow after him – sit opposite and swallow back what you think you know is coming. All of his suspicions stuck in your throat like a bitter, powdery pill. Or to turn away – leave him in an empty house, nothing but the sound of his own breathing and that tick tick tick affirming your guilt.

No more excuses filter through – none of Joel’s ideas, none of his explanations. You let your shoulders drop and your eyes close. The only image behind them is that six-foot, graying, droning idiot who’s probably sat waiting for you to pull up so he can take you to fucking Trader Joe’s or whatever.

And his shirt, which he’d probably drape over your shoulders before he’s even said hello. And his smile, which would draw you onto your tiptoes, draw your lips to his. And his hands, and his waist, and his pulse in step with yours as you follow him around the quiet store, the Saturday morning air daring you to hook your fingers around two of his every now and then. The longing a gnawing in your chest, burrowing deep beneath the cage of your ribs.

He's not here, though. It’s just you. And if you call him now, if he shows up unannounced – it’s only going to confirm what your dad thinks. Fuck it – what he knows.

So you unstick your sneakers and haul yourself through to the living room.

He’s rocking in the chair when you sink back into the couch. Balls of his feet pushing him back and forth. His fingers to his lips, like keeping the words at bay for now. Like feeling the jagged shape of them through his skin.

You throw a pillow over your legs, shaggy ivory fringe tickling your bare thighs. Your dad doesn’t speak. When you lift your head, his eyes flit from yours down to your restless fingers knitting the tassels of his pillow.

“What is it?” you croak.

“Mind if I ask you somethin’?”

You shrug. “Go for it.”

He waits a beat. A hesitation. Like he doesn’t want to ask the first question. He’s at the edge of a cliff. One more step and he’s plummeting down the rocky side, into a fog of cloud. Nothing will ever be the same. Only – you’ve already pushed him. He’s already falling. He just hasn’t realized it yet.

Maybe he feels the drop in his stomach, right now. Maybe the wind screams in his ears. He finally asks, “When were you gonna tell me about y’all gettin’ into a barfight on Friday night?”

Unexpected. But keep your fucking cool.

Your fingertip whitens, blood halted by the knot of the cushion fringe. You chew on a torn leaf of skin from your lips. “What?”

“You ‘n Joel. When he picked you up. What the hell happened?”

Your eyes slide from his to the patio door behind him, garden lighting up with the sun scaling higher in the sky. You stare there until it burns, until it’s all just a blur of color in your vision, and then pull a half-blinded gaze back in his direction.

You’re frozen, as if he has you at gunpoint. Shoulders tense, eyes wide. Dontshootdontshootdontshoot. “Who –? Who said that?”

“Hank. Was on the phone to ‘im last night. Anna said Joel was squarin’ up to some kid in Frank’s. You wanna tell me exactly what happened?”

“Nothing.” Liar. “Nothing happened. It was just some asshole. Joel was just lookin’ out for me. For us. Me ‘n Anna.”

“She told Hank he knocked the kid out. That Sam had to stop it from gettin’ outta control.”

He stares at you, and there’s no mask on his face. No cover, no disguise. He’s suspicious. And he doesn’t care that you know it. He’s not just asking about the barfight.

“Are you gonna say it or am I, hon?”

“Say what?”

Your last thread of insane hope that he’s innocently wondering about Frank’s is snapped in two by the words that tear out of his mouth, so quick they rip into your skin like shards of glass.

“What the hell’s goin’ on between you two?”

Your body suddenly drops further into the couch, the weight of your blood freezing to ice in your veins. Your joints seize, your jaw locks. Air passes across your open lips with no intention of carrying words back out the way it came. You forget any ability you had previously to come up with excuses, to cover up, to lie. Hell, you’re not sure you’d remember your own fucking name if he asked that next.

You say nothing. And he cocks his head, drums his fingers on the arm of his chair.

Say something.

“Nothing.”

Say something more convincing.

“Nothing?” you repeat, a shrill pitch in your voice like it’s a question. Like he’s dumb for even thinking there might be something weird going on. Like he’s the idiot.

The clock in the hall ticks to itself, amused. Fifteen little snaps. Each one sounds like a plate of glass beneath your feet, cracking a little more, a little deeper, a little wider. The abyss opening its wide, dark jaws beneath you.

Your dad’s expression doesn’t change. He crosses his arms, head leaning back a little. He almost looks sad. Almost looks like he might give in. Send you on your way, on your errands with Sarah.

But something recharges him, something must flicker behind his eyes, because he sits forward again and watches your reaction intently as he says –

“Then explain the text messages you been sendin’ each other.”

Another blow hits your stomach, rippling waves of white heat through you. You feel hot, a scorching panic right beneath the surface of your skin so hot that it mistakes itself for ice cold. A panic which radiates from your heart, pulsating through your entire body, every limb beginning to shudder involuntarily. Your silence is answer enough.

He sighs. Sits forward with his elbows on his knees. “I knew y’all were close, knew you cared about each other. You sure always talked to ‘im more ‘n you ever talked to me, even before you went off to college. But I’ve been noticing things lately…Something’s different. Something’s changed.”

Your eyes trace his form as he talks. It’s fucking dizzying. He’s animated, like a character from some eighties cop show who finally solved the mystery. He knows. He knows everything. Your jaw won’t move to answer.

“Seeing you two together – talking, laughing. The way you look at each other these days. ‘n you’re always near each other, ain’t you? Always hoverin’. It ain’t anything like before. That day the three of us went to Costco, that – I –” His anger seems to boil over, cascading from his lips in an angry burst of hot breath. “I felt like a spare tire in the back of the truck that day.”

“We’re…We’re just…f-friends…I don’t –”

He holds a finger up. Doesn’t want to hear it. Not until his speech is done. The sun moves behind a cloud; the living room suddenly drains of light. “That day you said you were spending the night at Anna’s. Said you were havin’ a pool day, right?”

“Right,” you whisper, eyes closing over. They feel heavy. Tired and teary.

“Right. Except,” he brings his finger down, aims it straight at you, “Hank says you weren’t never there. Anna was at Sal’s all day Sunday.”

Fuck.

“Dad…”

You’re pleading with him now. Enough, I’ve heard enough. I know you know. As if you might still be able to stop the train, dig your heels in and hold on tight to derail it. Derail his thoughts. Salvage the situation, string it back together with shame and atonement.

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t even hear you.

“’n that’s when I got to thinkin’ – last Monday, at Joel’s. I went over to fix his sink – you remember I told you about his sink?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I went over there, and he’s cookin’ this great big breakfast – pancakes, all of it – and there ain’t no one else in his house. Just him. Sarah was in Nashville, you remember?”

You take a deep breath. This is it. The ship’s beginning to disappear beneath the black waves.

“I thought maybe he had someone over, maybe expectin’ that girl from the plant hire…Anyway,” he bats his hand, bats the hopeful glint in Lois’s eye from his mind, “I’m walking downstairs, on my way out, and I notice somethin’ on the floor by the door.”

His chair squeaks timidly as he moves, his right arm lowering, scooping for something you can’t see yet. But when he shakily lifts it, your eyes fall to your knees. It hangs before you, apologetic and ashamed.

Joel was right. He knew it. You palmed him off. You told him your dad wouldn’t – couldn’t – put two and two together. And here he is, sat feet from you, holding the final piece to the puzzle in a quivering fist. Proof that, when he was in the house that day, you were only feet from him. Wrapped in his best friend’s shirt, dripping wet from his shower.

“This bag,” he hisses, and the tears finally drop onto your cheeks. They scurry to your chin, gathering and throwing themselves to your chest. Your shoulders drop, your eyes still low. You can’t look at him.

He speaks slowly. Speaks through his teeth. Every word like its own poisonous jab.

“Now you tell me: what in God’s name is your bag doin’ in Joel Miller’s hallway, at ten in the mornin’, when you’re supposed to be at Anna’s?”

Your fingers touch your forehead, a burning pain beginning to sting through your skull. You can feel your pulse in your temples. You’ve never wanted Joel to be stood in front of you so badly in all your life; just to deflect some of the interrogation off of you, just to give you breathing space. Just to protect you from the onslaught of questioning from your dad.

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head. The bag hits the carpet with a thud. “No, there ain’t no way. You were at Anna’s, right? You ain’t with Joel Miller, no way. I’m thinkin’, Please, God, don’t let that have been my daughter’s bag that day. But I’m right, ain’t I? You were there, weren’t you?”

You blink rapidly. The tears multiply quicker. The room is glossed in a protective film of salt and adrenaline. Give me something to say back. Give me something to say back.

“Where were you, hon? Musta been hidin’ somewhere, right?”

Give me something please think of something please come over please walk through that door please tell me what to say.

And then it comes to you. You blink the mist from your eyes. He said…he knew about texts you’d been sending Joel. How did he…?

“How did you know about the texts?”

“Pardon me?”

You straighten up and look him dead in the eye. Your voice feels hoarse. It sounds nothing like you. “How – did you know – about – the texts?”

“That’s your concern right now?”

“How – did you know?”

He begins to sputter, like the heat turned up under a pan on the hob. “Look, hon, you had me worried sick. Disappearin’ and I got no clue where you are. Always having an excuse to go off somewhere alone, no explanation. Don’t even get me started on those marks on your neck.”

Your hand immediately clamps around your throat, hot skin stained pink hissing into your palm. Joel’s teeth on you last night. His words cushioning the sharp bite. I love you. The heat hurts, now, when it felt so comforting just a few hours ago. It burns. It throbs. It feels like shame.

Your dad’s voice brings you back into the room.

“There’s another thing – last night,” he flings a laugh to you, “you were so quiet. So damn quiet. Didn’t say a word the entire time, and then I leave for all of ten minutes, and suddenly the two of you are headin’ over to his for – what was it? UCLA pamphlets?”

There’s a break between his words, a gap which makes you think that he wants you to answer. Like he’s giving you a chance, extending his arm. But he fills the space with a jeering laugh, and keeps talking.

“Where are they, huh? These pamphlets? ‘s why you were at Joel’s, right? Go on, go get ‘em. Show them to me.”

Your face solidifies. Lips tremble. There’s a scowl pulling your brows together. You’ve no right for it to be there. “Stop it,” you seethe. “Tell me what you did.”

“He’s the only one. The only one who could get you to talk. I had to check, kiddo. I had to know.”

Your stare doesn’t let up. Your lips bolt shut, refusing to say another word until he confesses. Which he does. Almost breezily.

“I looked through your phone. While you were gone. I – I went upstairs, ‘n I took it.”

He says it casually, as though he’s simply checked the newspaper. As though he’s just relaying the columns to you. Someone’s had a baby. Someone else won three grand on a scratch card. By the way, I know you’ve been messing around with Joel.

So it takes a minute for what he’s said to hit you. But when it does, the wave crashes over your shoulders so violently that it throws you to your feet, tasseled pillow whipped to the other side of the couch.

There are tears searing across your eyes. A twisted grimace of a smile on your face, a laugh breaking roughly from your throat. Some crazed, disbelieving, ugly little laugh.

“You – you checked my…my fuckin’ phone. You – you fucking –”

His head jerks back, offended. “Hey, now, listen to me –”

“I’m not listenin’ to another word! Am I twelve?”

You stalk over to the kitchen. The rattle of your dad’s chair tells you he follows.

“Well – you tell me, hon, ‘cause right now, you’re making a lot of real stupid decisions.”

That same ugly laugh echoes around the house. You grip onto the kitchen island. The room starts to wheel.

“Who the hell are you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?” you pant, eyes tight shut. Your thumbs begin to slip, sweat gliding between your skin and the counter.

“I’m your father! I’m lookin’ out for you, damnit! You think I wanna be havin’ this conversation with you right now?”

The granite countertop blurs in and out of focus when you open your eyes. You hook onto it, using it to haul yourself around the island until there’s distance between your wobbly figure and his. And you remember one week ago, when the same counter separated you and Joel, and you think of Joel, and think of his fingers around your wrist, and his fist against Knox’s jaw, and his teeth in your neck.

“Look,” your dad’s voice floats somewhere over the image of Joel’s eyes, “let’s just – let’s calm down. You ‘n me – we’re gonna talk this out. We’re gonna have a calm, mature discussion about all of this. You’re gonna tell me exactly what’s been goin’ on, and then I’m gonna head over to Joel’s – alone – and talk to him.”

But his voice doesn’t sound calm. There’s a tremble to it – a tremor as fragile as glass, as thin as ice. It’s crackling as he speaks. He can hardly keep a hold on it himself.

If he goes over to Joel’s – this you know – there ain’t anything calm or mature that will come of it. Suddenly the images in your head warp, and it’s your fingers around Joel’s wrist, someone else’s fist against his cheek, someone else’s teeth and the venom spat between them.

“Dad,” you pant, “it’s over. He ended it. It’s been done for, like, two weeks now. It was nothing.”

“Oh, nothing, was it?” He steps closer. You retreat. Edge further around the counter, further from him. His head tilts, eyebrows curl. He looks like a vulture, eyeing its prey. “Then what were the two of you up to last night?”

“We – we went for ice cream, that’s all. He wanted to make sure I was alright.”

He’s not convinced. And he shouldn’t be, either. He coughs a laugh. “For three hours? You were eatin’ ice cream for three Goddamn hours?” His cheeks wobble as he shakes his head. Then, in a softer voice, like he’s arming himself with a chisel to prick at the weakest parts of the sculpture, “What’d he do to you, girl?”

The marble cracks and snaps wide open. Anger floods out in hot waves. Any composure you’d managed to scrape together flushes clean out of your body.

“Nothing I didn’t want him to fuckin’ do. Stop treating me like I’m some kid who’s – who’s been tricked, or something. I’m twenty-three, Dad, I’m an adult.”

His silence sends another misdirected shot of panic through you.

“I was in on it just as much as he was,” you weep, fingers searching for a scratch of beard or kiss of flannel.

Your dad scoffs then, hands slapping against his thighs, and turns away. “There ain’t no gettin’ through to you,” he announces to the timid living room.

Still bracing yourself against the island, you take the break in his tirade to catch your breath. The only thought running through your head, losing velocity with each circuit, is Joel walking through that door. His face when he notices you with your flushed cheeks and wide eyes. His hands reaching for yours, through all the lies and hurt. Your dad, stood opposite, tight as an arrow and ready to fucking fly for him. Fists balled, teeth bared.

“He doesn’t even know,” you realize, staring at the glow on the floor cast by the front door. “You haven’t told him you know, have you?”

“’course I ain’t told him. I wanted to talk to you first. Not that it’s gotten us anywhere, huh?”

“I’m gonna text him.”

“Hon, don’t you d–”

“I am not having this conversation on my own. There are two people involved here.”

You pull your phone from your pocket and scrawl some messy message to Joel. Three messy messages. Something like he knows everything, can you come over? I need you. Some needy, dramatic, helpless message.

The typing bubble appears for a fraction of a second. So fleeting that you almost miss it through your tears, before it drops back to nothing. He doesn’t reply.

Doesn’t pick up, either, when you call him. Three times in a row. Three missed calls; three Hey, it’s Joel, sorry I missed yous.

The phone rattles off the counter when you drop it, your head falling into your hands. Your dad wanders back over to his armchair and collapses into it with a sigh, his fingers massaging his temples. The two of you mirrored, the same storm circling between you, only ice in his veins and fire in yours.

Fear keeps your feet planted to the kitchen floor; adrenaline alone keeps you upright. Your fingers push hard into your forehead, an ache sat directly behind that dizzies you. Blood thudding its fists against your eyes, screaming in your ears.

How the fuck did this happen? It feels ridiculous to ask, but it’s all you got. When did the two of you get so lazy? Start forgetting to cover your tracks? Or – maybe worse – stop caring enough to even try?

Of course, saying you were with Anna was a dumb fucking move. Her dad is one of your dad’s buddies. One of Joel’s, too. That was always going to fuck it all up. And you were too caught up, too hellbent on seeing Joel, too fucking horny to stop for five seconds and keep your damn story straight.

There’s nothing to say, nothing that might fix this. There’s no winding your way out of it. The trap has you by the throat. Your jaw aches from trying to free yourself.

Your dad sways side to side in his chair, staring silently at the wall ahead of him. Your face burns with shame, with anger, with embarrassment. Your heart stings from the hurt, from wanting Joel here, from his ignoring your pleas for help. And, most annoying of all – from letting your dad down.

It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself. How you spin it. Sure, you’re twenty-three. You can make your own decisions. That much is fucking clear now. Doesn’t mean they’re always good. Even when they make you laugh until your cheeks hurt, make your stomach flip with excitement, make you scream from pleasure.

Make your heart do things you’ve never felt it do before. Things you never knew that it could do.

You let your dad down. He can barely look at you for it. You know damn well that it was worth every second, and yet, right now, nothing but thick, awkward, unbreathable air between the two of you – it feels like it should never have happened.

You’re bent over the counter, head resting on your folded arms, breathing still staggered – when you hear it. The squeal of brakes outside. An engine cutting. A door slamming.

Two knocks on the door, and Joel pushes it open. You’re already in the hallway, watching his heavy head and loose shirt cross the threshold.

He looks up and your eyes meet. His hair’s a mess, he’s in the same tee from last night. He’s gotten straight out of bed and into his truck, and he’s braced, like he doesn’t know what’s coming. Which direction to expect the first punch from.

Your knees weaken at the sight of him. The safe haven of his arms, the home of his chest. The beating pulse behind it whose language you’ve become fluent in. Even now, when everything’s fallen apart, his being here washes relief over you like cool water dousing an inferno. Your body relaxes, your breathing quietens.

Joel nods towards you. You okay?

You shake your head lightly, and he flicks his fingers. You’re in his arms before your brain tells your limbs to move.

“’s okay,” he breathes, lips lined with your ear. His chest is soft, warm; you take fistfuls of his shirt. He strokes your hair, mumbling, “Told you we’ll be alright, yeah? It’s goin’ to be alright.”

You weep into him, lips dripping with salty tears. They part to reply, when a low growl rips between your bodies. Joel loosens his grip and you step back, turning around to face the ghost of your father at the end of the hall.

“Get the hell away from him.”

He advances, takes a few steps forward. You meet him halfway, gripping onto his shirt, planting yourself firmly between him and Joel.

“Woah, woah,” you say, pushing on his small chest, “let’s all just calm down. Dad.”

He’s smaller, scrawnier, older, and weaker than Joel. He’s never going to lift a fucking hand to him. Not if he wants to keep it intact. He wouldn’t square up to a fly, never mind an actual worthy opponent – but your gut tells you to make damn sure he doesn’t even try.

“Get out of the way, hon.”

“No. No way. And let you –? No.”

He’s not even looking at you. You’re nothing but an obstacle. He’s staring a few feet behind.

“Baby,” Joel says, voice weary and surrendered. “It’s alright, now. C’mon, outta the way.”

“Baby?” your dad seethes. “You just call my daughter baby?”

“Called me it as long as he’s known me, Dad.”

“’s different now,” he spits. “What the f–? I mean, what the fuck, Joel? What were you even thinkin’? Putting your Goddamn hands on my daughter?”

You don’t usually hear your dad curse. All through growing up, even when you left home – you could count on one hand the number of times you’ve heard it. It sends a bolt of fear through you as if you’re five years old again, and he can’t do much worse than say bad words in front of you.

You don’t usually see your dad do any of this stuff. Raise his voice, ball his fists. Lean forward, feet planted on the ground, like daring Joel to make the first move. Joel – his best friend. The guy he was supposed to be able to trust more than anyone in the world.

Angry. Furious. And you think: if there were a time he had a right to feel this way, to act like this and throw threats around as though they’re light as air, if ever there were a moment – this would be it. A betrayal. A secret this big.

Joel takes a step forward. He doesn’t seem scared. More – placating. Letting the tantrum run its course. He holds his hands out. “Let’s just – let’s just talk.”

“Talk,” your dad repeats, spitting the word like it’s rotten in his mouth. “You wanna talk? Let’s talk. What the hell have you been doin’ to her? Hm?”

Joel shakes his head, shoulders lifting. “I ain’t been doin’ nothin’ to her. That’s not what this is.”

“Hell,” your dad scoffs, “not what it is. Why don’t you explain to me exactly what it is, then, Joel? If it ain’t you takin’ advantage of a young girl? Takin’ advantage of my kid?”

Your head whips back to face Joel, hand lifting in a bracing motion. He sees it – sees the way your head shakes, imperceptible to your dad. Please don’t tell him. Not yet.

It’s bad enough that he knows you’ve been messing around. It hurts enough that he knows you’ve been lying for the entire summer. Telling him the full story – the conversation in the truck, the words exchanged over ice cream and the quiet tick of traffic lights across the street – would only hurt more. Would only sharpen his anger. He’d ask more questions; he’d drive his dagger deeper.

Joel pleads with you. His eyes do his bargaining. You don’t relent. Please.

“You know what I keep thinkin’ about,” your dad interrupts, “you know what’s runnin’ through my mind? That damn garden party. Those cupcakes. You puttin’ your thumb on her lip. I should’ve known the second you touched her what was happening. You arrogant, shameless son of a bitch, Joel, you got no idea what you –”

“Dad. Enough.”

Sure, you’re trying to calm him down, palms outstretched and motioning like he’s a wild horse, rearing frantically and threatening to crush you. But it also stings to hear him talking about Joel like that. Talking to him like that.

The same Joel he’d sling an arm around, knocking their beers together when the Rangers won. The same Joel you know he’d spent hours sat out back with, talking into the night and sharing stories and secrets with the stars.

The same Joel who covered your legs with his jacket last night, who held you when you were hurting, who reminded you what it was like to feel your heart again, beating rapidly in your chest.

He’s not talking about the same Joel. Not the Joel you know. Yours.

He’s still rambling. “…’n all this time, you pair have been closer ‘n you were lettin’ on.”

“You don’t understand,” you plead, “you don’t know him like I do.”

Your dad scoffs, twisted smirk on his face. “Oh, I know ‘im. I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer and a hell of a lot better ‘n you have, hon. Known him since he was fifteen, askin’ me ‘n my buddies to buy ‘im a case of beer from the liquor store. His little brother in ‘n outta jail like God only knows what. I know exactly what he’s like.”

“What he’s like?” you huff, exasperated. You spin on your heel, arms coming down on your sides with a slap. “Joel, help me.”

“Don’t you dare look at ‘im! Listen, kiddo, I know him. Know what he’s like at Frank’s, takin’ women home left ‘n right, then forgetting their damn names. Know he sure as hell can’t remember that schoolteacher’s name, can you, Joel? You remember her?”

“Quit it,” you tell him over your shoulder, still facing Joel.

Your dad laughs from behind you. It turns your stomach. “I’ll bet he never told you about that one, did he? That’d turn you off ‘im in a heartbeat, wouldn’t it?”

“Nah, he told me about Jess.”

Your dad’s voice cuts. Joel’s head finally lifts, his eyes ungluing from the floor to look at you.

You shrug back. “I figured it out. Sister’s name is Mia – she’s a year younger ‘n me.”

You swear he almost fucking smiles. Almost. It’s funny, or at least, it would be if you weren’t both in the middle of tearing your entire dynamic apart. Any other time, he’d nudge you, or tousle your hair, and say you were too clever for him, or something about being old again.

When you turn back to face your dad, he looks like he’s run out of words. So, he repeats ones he’s already said.

“I…Well, I know him, honey. And he ain’t someone you oughta be with.”

“How’d you figure that?”

He sighs. “I just told you my reasons.”

“’cause he wanted beer when he was a kid and he’s slept with people before? ‘cause Tommy gets himself into trouble – trouble that Joel then gets him out of?”

“No, I –”

“You don’t know a damn thing about any of this. You won’t listen to me. If you’d hear me out – hear us out, then you’d –”

“Don’t you dare tell me I’d change my damn mind. Don’t – you – dare.” Your dad’s voice is quiet and slow. Dangerous. Laced with something you’ve never heard in it before. It’s not worth finding out what.

Your head shakes, knee jerking with nerves. “I don’t…I don’t know what else to say.”

The fire flickers, loses light for a second. His voice softens. “Honey…This –” he waggles his finger between your body and Joel’s, “this thing y’all have been…It ain’t right. It is not right, what y’all have been doin’. You are far too young for him. He should know better, and the fact that he doesn’t – well.”

Your brows tighten, eyes pinching around painful tears. “I know why you’re mad. I get it. I’m sorry. But I can’t –” You sigh. “You are suffocatin’ me, living here.”

His façade drops instantly. He pushes his fingers into his eyes, groaning. “Hon, you’re not hearin’ me.”

“I hear you loud and clear, I –”

He cuts you off, throwing his arms up into the air with another loud yell. The words melt into one long drone, a mountainous ramble which peaks and falls in pitch; one minute low and angry and the next high and frantic.

You sigh, shoving by him for the living room. Joel reaches for your hand, your fingers brushing against his.

“Baby,” he says.

“Ah!” Your dad blocks his advance, shaky finger held to his chest. “You dare, son.”

You’re swipe the bag from the floor by your dad’s chair, your change of clothes still in a crumpled heap at the bottom. Slinging it over your shoulder, you whip past your father and lock your hand with Joel’s.

“Hey,” Joel says, slowing you down. “Darlin’, where are you –?”

“I wanna leave.”

“Huh?” he asks, brows raised.

“I want to go,” you whisper.

He glances over to your dad, dumbfounded by the stairs. “Where d’you wanna go?”

Your shoulders roll. Anywhere. Just take me away.

He doesn’t hesitate; barely thinks it over. He tightens his grip on your hand and pulls you toward him. Your feet stumble over the carpet.

“Where in the hell –?” Your dad’s snarling picks up again, his final chance. “I don’t think so –”

Joel’s backing up towards the front door, led by the pull of your hand. “Emotions are pretty high,” he announces, “why don’t we have this conversation once everybody’s calmed down?”

“Joel, if you take her, I’ll–”

“I ain’t takin’ her anywhere. She’s an adult.”

Liar. His hand wouldn’t let go of yours if you tried to pry it from his clutches.

“I’m leavin’,” he says, “she’s just coming with me.”

Your dad barks your name, and you freeze. Joel stops, too, allows you the time to turn. Like a deer in the headlights.

“I’m going, Dad,” you shakily tell him.

“I swear to God,” he says, “if y’all walk outta that door…”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean for any of this.”

He shakes his head. “Stay, hon. Let’s talk.”

“You’re not talkin’, though. All you wanna do is argue. I wanna go with Joel.”

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere with no one! ‘specially not him!”

You shrug, give your head a solemn shake. “Stop me.”

Joel hears the exhaustion in your voice, the scratch of your throat. The way the words melt into one another. He tugs on your hand, leading you through the front door. Your dad doesn’t speak again, and you don’t turn back to check on him.

The neighborhood is silent in the early morning. Yards empty, curtains still closed. No one, not even the sun, tucked behind a thin veil of cloud, sees when you pile into the front seat of Joel’s truck.

“Baby,” he says, pulling your seatbelt over your body.

Your eyes fix on the asphalt ahead. “Just drive.”

“Hey. Look at me.”

When you turn to him, he takes your jaw in both hands. “I love you,” he says.

“Still?” you squeak, eyes heavy with sleeplessness and tears.

“More.”

“This is fucking insane, Joel.”

He nods. “Yeah. ‘n you’re worth all of it.”

“Hey,” Sarah calls when the two of you spill in through the front door. She’s on the couch, Switch console in hand. “What’s up?”

“We have a – a lodger, for the next…little while,” Joel grumbles, tossing his keys onto the sideboard. He kicks off his boots and slides them to the wall, straightens up and looks to you.

You follow suit wordlessly, slipping out of your sneakers. Joel places them by his.

“Cool,” Sarah says, standing up. “How come?”

“Just – dad trouble,” you whisper, deflated. She’s wandering around the couch. A defeated sound rings from the console hanging from her thumb.

Her head tilts. “I…I got plenty room for you,” she flashes you a warm grin, “it can be like a big-ass sleepover.”

You return her smile, a slow, grateful breath filling your lungs. Joel’s arm wraps over your shoulder as your mouth opens to answer.

“No, uh…” He clears his throat. “She’ll be in my room. With me.”

Sarah’s expression is blank. She blinks between the two of you, arms limp either side of her hips. Your eyes flit from Joel to her and back again, wide, waiting. Waiting for someone to move, or speak, or yell.

Joel looks indifferent. Unbothered. As if he just told her it’s sunny outside.

She takes a step forward, and by instinct, you draw back. “Sarah…” you mutter, and she swings around the newel post. She dodges your outstretched hand, whether accidental or deliberate – you’re not sure.

“No, it’s…Okay. Yeah. I’ll – I gotta…Yeah.”

You watch as she climbs the stairs backwards, still looking from your pleading face to her dad’s stoic. She shrugs, wiggles the Switch and mumbles something about it needing charged, before she’s spinning and taking the last few steps two at a time.

When her bedroom door closes, you slump back. Joel doesn’t let go of your shoulder, catching you and pulling you into his chest.

“Fuck,” you whisper, lips pressed against his tee. He smells like pine, like mint, like you.

“’s okay,” he says into your hair, hand curving the shape of your skull. “She’ll come around. You know Sarah.”

You turn, ear against his chest, listening for his heartbeat. It doesn’t tell you anything new. You miss the days you used to listen for secret messages in the soft rhythm.

Joel’s chin rests on the crown of your head. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “None of this is your fault, you hear? None of it.”

“Now you’re just lyin’ to me. You know that ain’t true.”

A hum rumbles against your cheek like the earth readjusting, rearranging beneath your feet. You lift your head, loosen your grip around his waist.

“You need sleep,” he tells you, thumb swiping gently beneath your heavy eyes.

You don’t protest.

Joel takes your hand, leads you mutely upstairs and into his room. His bed’s not made. The shades aren’t even open. He lifts the sea of sheets, tosses them twice in the air and then pulls the corner back, letting you sit on the edge of the mattress.

He undresses you carefully, like your limbs might crack and burst at the slightest touch. He replaces your hoodie with a fresh tee of his own, one that still smells like the world before its end, and you lay back into bed slowly.

It’s shaped like you – the divot in the mattress. You slot back into it like you never left. The curl of your back and the fold of your knees. You’ve left little pieces of evidence all over the place – all over Joel.

He runs a delicate hand across your head, the repetitive movement lulling you off to sleep. Pushing the boat out.

“You need anythin’?” he asks.

You shake your head, arms wrapping tight underneath your pillow. “I’m good,” you whisper, and the waves pull you under.

His bedside lamp is on when you stir, the left half of the room a glowing honey color. His bare leg slotted between yours, your hands intertwined on his chest. His finger drifts back and forth against your palm, the strokes matching your breathing.

You’re still tired, eyes still rolling beneath heavy lids, but when some commentator screams at the game playing on the TV screen, you snap awake.

Joel curses under his breath, begins tearing the bed apart for the remote – but by the time he turns the volume down, your head is propped against his pillow, knuckles rubbing your eyes.

“Sorry, baby,” he sighs, kissing your forehead as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“’s okay.” You flash him a lazy smile. “What time is it?”

“Almost five thirty.”

“Damn,” you mutter. “Slept all fucking day.”

“You needed it,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “You want some dinner? Or – breakfast?”

You nod. “Sounds good.”

He disappears downstairs. The echoing of pots and pans and the hum of the extraction fan follow in his wake. You groan, stretching out like a starfish across the messy bed, forgetting for just a moment why you’re here, and what’s happened, and how different everything is.

It feels the same, even after eight hours sleep. Same guilt, and shame. Same anger and resentment towards your dad. Same punch to your gut anytime you picture his face, the wrinkled frown. The trembling fist holding your bag in midair.

The blow is soothed only by the swelling of warmth across your chest, looking around the room. The safety you feel here, as though you’re cut off from the rest of the world. Your father on pause the second you left the house; Joel’s room and his bed giving you time to catch your breath and recalibrate.

You’re not thinking about when you’ll have to go back home. You’re just not.

You knot your shorts back around your waist, take one huge swig of the water Joel left for you, and open his bedroom door, your head throbbing with each movement.

There’s a figure at the end of the hall, frozen in space like a phantom.

“Morning,” she says. Her hair is tied back, oversized hoodie over her shoulders.

“Hi.”

“You sleep good?”

“Must’ve. Missed half the day.”

Sarah smiles.

“Are you gonna kill me?”

“Hm,” her head tips back and forth, “not today. Don’t have the energy. Watch your back tomorrow, though.”

For the first time in almost twenty-four hours, a genuine laugh pushes its way past your lips. The knot in your stomach loosens, even if only a little.

“You wanna come help with dinner?” she asks, nodding to the stairs.

You smile. “Please.”

The three of you settle on pasta with some tomato sauce from a jar mixed through. You sit opposite Sarah as Joel sets the plates down, sliding into the seat next to yours with a gentle squeeze on your knee under the table.

The three of you talk. About nothing in particular – college, Rita and her cross stitch, some client of Joel’s whose wife got caught having an affair – but it soothes the ache in your heart. It feels like a blanket over your shoulders, a spot by the fire, a voice in your ear promising you that things are still okay. That they can still be this way: light, alive. The earth is still moving, the stars are still pinned up in the sky. Tomorrow will always come, and the day after that.

Sarah asks about LA. You tell her you didn’t know she knew. She grins and says, “Well, now that I do – you better put an application in.”

You hum around the fork between you lips. “Maybe.”

“Come on. The two of us out there together? For six whole months? You gotta do it. Tell me you don’t wanna do it. Are you gonna do it?”

Joel casts her a glower, his stony expression pushing her back in her chair.

Your eyes shift from hers over to his. He runs a slice of garlic bread around the curve of his plate, coating it in sauce, before he notices you staring. His face breaks into a tiny smirk.

“I don’t know,” you decide, turning back to Sarah. “I still gotta think it through.”

She nods earnestly. “Yeah, you should sleep on it. And then, first thing tomorrow, we’re doing it.”

The two of you let her have the final say, falling quiet until some new conversation is shifted onto the table, and then another, and then another. When you’re done eating, Sarah takes your hand and drags you back upstairs.

Sarah Miller’s bedroom has been baby pink for as long as you can remember. Joel painted it one summer while she was at camp, eliciting help from your dad to shift all the furniture. As she grew up, she covered the walls in posters, changed the sheets, changed the curtains, strung fairy lights to distract from what she saw as a kiddish color.

But she never asked to change it. Always wanted the same blushing pink her dad had picked out when she was ten – even if secretly.

Her blinds are tilted, golden light from the slowly lowering sun filtering through onto her carpet, stained with tiny dabs of nail polish. She throws herself down onto the bed, her curls igniting brown in the summer light, and you slowly sink down beside her.

“Nice Zayn poster,” you note, pointing to the straight-browed, dark-haired figure painted in a moody grayscale on her ceiling. “Interesting placement.”

“Was so I could dream about him every night.”

“You didn’t wanna take him to California?”

“Didn’t have to,” Sarah smiles, tapping her temple, “he’s all up here, baby.”

You snort. Your eyes flutter closed; hands clasped on your stomach. She sighs contentedly by your side, listening to the chatter of birds out front.

“I miss this,” she says eventually, her voice smooth and soothing. She elbows you lightly.

“Me too,” you reply. And then, with a deep breath: “Sarah…are you okay?”

When she turns back, the sunlight catches in her eyes. They twinkle, like she’s some doe-eyed Disney character. Someone who might be able to wiggle her fingers and make the last day disappear.

“Am I okay?”

“Yeah. With…everything.”

She shrugs, mumbles an I dunno. “What can I do about it? It’s weird, but…it’s none of my business. I guess…I guess if y’all are happy, then – you know. I’m gone half the time, anyways.”

“It is your business, too, though,” you tell her. “I don’t wanna make you feel weird.”

“I think you got bigger things to worry about right now. Sounds like your dad’s pretty mad.”

You sigh, looking back up to the boyband poster. “Yeah. He’s pretty mad.”

“My dad told me what happened. Well, parts. I can kinda guess the rest. Can’t really blame him, I guess.”

You shrug. “Guess not, but then…I am twenty-three, y’know? I’m not a kid. I can make my own mind up.”

She’s still staring at you, but you don’t return her glance. Something tells you that you already know what it says. Still, she verbalizes it.

“Would you be okay if I slept with your dad?”

That is so not what I thought you were gonna fuckin’ say.

You shoot her a look. “What?”

“’m askin’. Would you be okay with it, if I –”

You lift your hand to shut her up. “That is…so totally different.”

“How is that different?” she scoffs.

“Because…because…my dad’s not hot.”

Sarah gags.

“And – and also you’re not friends with him. It’s just different, alright?”

“You were friends with my dad?”

You’re laughing with her now. You can hear how pathetic your justification sounds. “Kinda, yeah. I was close to ‘im.”

“Yeah, that much is obvious, now, babe.”

You smack her arm and she giggles.

“I think he’ll come around. Your dad.”

“I don’t. Not ever.”

“Why wouldn’t he? His best friend would become his son-in-law, I would become his granddaughter-in-law –” She gasps and props herself up on her elbow, staring you down. “Does this make you, like, my stepmom?”

You spit out a laugh, and Sarah throws her head back against her pillow, clutching her belly.

“You’re my fuckin’ mom, dude!”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you reply, covering your face with your hands. “Aw, fuck,” you breathe, giggling.

You settle back into the bed, your heads leaning against one another as you stare up at Zayn and his audience of glow-in-the-dark stars. Sarah hums something softly to herself, her ankle rocking, her fingers tapping.

The two of you were raised together. Sisters, when neither of you knew what that word really meant. You figure she’s as close as you could find – someone who reflects all of your favorite parts of yourself and who calls out the uglier ones without hesitation. Someone who comforts you with a punch to the arm, a mocking quip about your hair or the something in your teeth. A safe little secret keeper, for all of your wildest dreams and biggest fears.

“I guess this is all why you were so down in the dumps last night, right? Your dad knew then?”

You shake your head. “Not at that point. He found out after we all left. Realized it all on his own. It’s all just…so fucking stupid…”

She sighs. “My dad – if he…if he makes you happy, then I don’t even know. As long as I don’t have to see it – we’re cool.”

One cinderblock of weight lifts from your chest, allowing a rugged breath to escape. “Wish my dad would take a leaf outta your book,” you mumble.

“He’s just mad,” Sarah says. “He’s just mad, and he’ll eventually calm down.”

“Doesn’t matter even if he does calm down,” you reply. “My dad has more of a…restrictive parenting approach.”

“Can you really parent a twenty-three-year-old?”

“He finds a way to try.”

She scoffs, saying, “I get it. My dad’s more, try it ‘n see. Your dad is, like, try it ‘n see…what your punishment is.”

You both erupt into laughter, and Sarah reaches for the TV remote.

“Exactly,” you tell her, tugging on the hem of Joel’s shirt. “Although, if your dad found out you were with my dad, I don’t think he’d be cool with it, either.”

“Yeah,” she smirks, flicking through Netflix titles, “y’all got what you deserved.”

The sound of Sarah’s bedroom door closing over stirs you. Her room is the color of rust; the stream of amber sunlight on the carpet replaced by that of the streetlights. Beneath the door, the sliver of light is shifted by the sway of a silhouette walking off down the hall.

Sarah’s snoring quietly beside you, still in her jeans. Keeping an eye on her, you roll off the bed and creep towards the door, a slow groan coming from the handle as you twist it. Joel’s at the opposite end of the hall, disappearing into his room as you shut Sarah back into her warm slumber.

“Thought you were sleepin’,” he whispers when you slip into his room. He’s already sat in bed, leant against the headboard. The room a thick darkness, a black cloud of dusk spiraling around you and cutting you off from the rest of the world.

“Heard you come in.” You wander over, pausing at the side of the bed. “Wanna stay with you.”

“C’mere,” he says, holding a hand out. You take it, pulling yourself into his lap. He slips his hands under the hem of your shorts, fingertips brushing the crests of your hipbones. “You okay?” he asks, thumbs swiping gently on the seam of your thigh.

“Never better. You?”

He sighs in response and looks off to the window, the light catching his eye. You tilt your head and bend forward, kissing below his ear. He smells like whiskey. You breathe it in, inhaling like the sharp scent might fold you under a numb blanket of inebriation, too.

Joel takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you from his neck, watching the shift in your expression before he kisses you – steady, bracing. The first time since everything went so wrong.

For a few minutes you pretend nothing has changed – you’re still sneaking around, shushing one another; someone’s in the next room, there are still secrets to be kept. You slip your shorts down your legs, kicking them over the side of the bed; Joel’s sweatpants follow soon after. His hands surrender and you push up on his chest, dragging your core against his stubborn crotch, lips never losing contact. Tongues rolling against one another, noses bumping; a tangle of breath between you until you’ve no idea which is yours and which is his.

It’s all you know how to do, after all. It’s how this started, it’s how it got out of control. The two of you taking out your needs on one another. Right now is no different. You need to feel something other than the dread in the pit of your stomach, the ache in your heart anytime you look at him and know he feels it, too.

You come up for air and suddenly the feeling dissipates; doubt sets back in and fear washes over you like ice water. Your hips cease, Joel’s hands lift from your body. He pushes the hair from your face to find his own expression mirrored in yours.

Everything has changed.

You watch his movements, the light trace of his finger on your bare skin, the pinch of fabric as he adjusts his boxers. The careful movements of his own hips, trying not to incite anything more.

“I love you,” you offer, when he doesn’t say anything. Whispered, like it’s a question, like something to dangle in front of him to make him bite.

At the very least, it unsticks his gaze from the cotton print over your chest and back up to your face – where he softens and says, “Oh, darlin’. I love you, too.”

He gives you a squeeze and pulls you by the shoulders closer, letting you feel his lips on yours again and again, until you’re out of breath. You nuzzle your head under his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart at your ear.

Joel trails his hands up and down your spine. He breaks the silence first – stammers his way through a question you’re not sure how to answer.

“Was I – was I hurtin’ you? All this time?”

You lift your head, looking blankly at him. “What –?”

“Was I hurting you?”

“Hurting me?”

He nods. “Everythin’ we were doin’. Everything we’ve done. You wanted me to be doing it, right?”

He looks…scared, as though forty years have been shaved from him over the course of one day. Eyes glassy like he might burst into tears; bottom lip almost trembling with uncertainty.

You sit up and cup his face; he breathes a sigh of relief when you look him dead in the eye and say, “I wanted you to be doing all of it.”

“All of it?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you nod, “nothing you ever did ever hurt me.”

He lowers his gaze. “’cept when I left.”

“You came back.”

His thumb curves beneath the slip of fabric on your hips, toying with the elastic. There’s more in his question, you know it. He’s not convinced by a word you say.

“It’s just…all such a fuckin’ mess,” he groans, fingertips massaging his forehead.

You hesitate, unwilling to agree and unable to disagree. It is a fucking mess – that much is true. But if that’s all it is, then why does your heart pause for breath whenever you see him? Why does the mere thought of his presence, the tiniest glimpse of him – why does it all send your stomach somersaulting?

How can something supposed to be so bad, make you feel so fucking good?

“It was wrong of me,” Joel says, “to flirt with you that night I first saw you again. To put you in that position. But I did, and we ended up here. And I’m glad we did, baby, you know I am, but…it’s on me. This thing with you ‘n your dad.”

“You don’t think he should back off a little? Don’t think he’s oversteppin’ a mark, even a tiny bit?”

He shakes his head. “I’d do the damn same, ‘n you know it. I shoulda known better. Shouldn’ta let it happen. You mean more to me than the world, and I – I caused all this hurt for you.”

Sure, it’s real noble of him to take all of the blame, but it wasn’t just him. You had a part in it, too: your batting eyelashes, your hands where they shouldn’t have been. Your jaw tightens when he says it, holding back from telling him you want as much responsibility in this as he’s taking, even if he won’t allow it.

But an argument with Joel, right off the back of one with your father, isn’t really something you need. It wouldn’t help anything. So, you swallow your words and whisper new ones.

“You shouldn’t have flirted with me?”

His eyebrows flick, concern knotting them together. He sits up, scooping you in his arms. “I meant I should’ve never let it get to this point.”

“’n what about the first time you touched me?”

The memory plays between you: the weight of him on your body, the sound of the stereo system firing up downstairs. One hand between your legs and the other pinching your heart.

The light in your eyes starts to bleed through your body into Joel’s, distorting the projected image of that scene in your bedroom. It ignites somewhere low, travelling upwards until his stare locks with yours: an understanding weaving between you both.

You lean back from him, drinking in the sight. “Nothin’ but trouble, right? That’s what you said, that first night. You knew damn well where it might go. ‘n you still wanted it, just as bad.”

“Darlin’, I’m not sayin’ I didn’t, I –”

“No, no, I get it. I get it.”

You push his shoulders to the mattress. Fire in your belly, some kind of twisted energy pumping through your veins, you grind down on him again.

That thing, about this being all you know how to do? About taking your needs out on each other?

Right now, you need distraction. You need something to tire you out, to drain you of energy, to stop your thoughts for five minutes. You need someone to hold you, and love you, and make you feel good. Joel’s the perfect distraction.

He’s still hard. You’re still wet. It’s easy.

You drag your hips lazily over his, cotton riding against lace. He’s growing harder, bigger; he’s pushing up into you. You respond by pushing down, and Joel groans.

“Hey,” he takes hold of your thighs, “baby, we don’t have to –”

“Then, let’s stop.”

He says nothing.

You reach down past the band of his boxers and take him in your hand. He bites back a moan, his head falling into the pillow. You’re stroking him: long, hard strokes, fist tightening around him, fingers dipping between your folds to apply your slick to his length.

“Say the word, Joel. We’ll stop,” you pant, unsure if even you buy the words you’re saying. “You said it: none of this should’ve ever happened. You should’ve never laid a finger on me.”

His arms lift, throbbing biceps curving around his pillow and crumpling it against his skull. He doesn’t tell you to stop, because he doesn’t fucking want you to. He needs this – needs you as much as you need him, needs you more than he needs the air in his lungs.

And you’re right: it is different now. Now, it’s out in the open. The whole world could know, for all the two of you care. And maybe that’s the kick to it, now. No more hiding. No more fleeing from shadow to shadow.

You tug his underwear down and lower yourself, dragging your folds up and down the width of him while sticky precome gathers at his tip, dappling the trail of hair from his navel. And when you can’t do it anymore, when the mere sight of him drenched in your arousal threatens to send you over the edge, you line him up to your entrance and sink down, slow.

He moans into the pillow, fabric muffling your favorite sound in the world. And he doesn’t stop, his chest doesn’t stop rumbling until you reach his hilt, where he gasps.

“Darlin’,” he whimpers, hands coming back down to hold you in place.

You bat them away. “Uh-uh,” you tut, pinning his wrists above his head. “Not a – fuckin’ – finger.”

Joel grits his teeth, eyes locking onto yours, directly above him as you slide up off his cock, hips circling as you do, and then back down. Your free hand curves around his ribcage, the solid flesh of his torso stabilizing you.

“Poor baby,” you coo, pouting your lip. “Can’t even touch me. Can’t put a hand on your girl when you need to most.”

“Fuckin’ – whore,” he grunts, and your hips grind to a halt. You release his wrists.

“That what you think of me?” you ask, sitting upright on his lap. Joel’s still buried deep inside you.

“No,” he’s breathing, lips curling, “no, baby. Keep goin’.”

“I’m not the one goin’ back on my word here.”

He flashes a thick, filthy smile. “I know, I know. Go on. Make me proud.”

You lean forward again and he sighs, the feel of your wet cunt wrapping like satin around him.

“You think he’d trust you, anyway, after everythin’?” you mewl. “Think he thinks I’m in a different room right now? Tucked up in bed, safe ‘n sound? Nah, baby, he knows. He knows what you’re doin’ right now. Keep your hands off me? You can’t keep your cock outta me.”

Joel moans in agreement, hands gripping into the sheets to ground himself, hips bucking up against yours. You place your hands either side of him on the mattress and start to bounce, skin slapping, bed shaking.

“You like that, huh?” you moan, feeling the sharp kiss of his head at your cervix. Nudging, nudging, nudging. Blunt pain, blissful pleasure. “Like me riding it. Takin’ what I – oh, fuck – what I need.”

He lets out a guttural moan, writhing around underneath you. It’s like he’s forgotten where he is, forgotten you guys aren’t alone in the house; drunk on the sight, smell, sound, and feel of you on him, not even trying to stifle his sounds anymore.

You close your eyes and hope Sarah doesn’t wake anytime soon.

You’re keeping the façade up for Joel, but on the inside, you feel the exact same. His words echo in your ears, shouldn’ta let it happen, and how quickly that melted into make me proud. Your head starts to swim, your eyes heavy, your body trembling.

The thatch of hair at the bottom of his cock brushes against your clit, a gasp drawing between your teeth. Pain begins to rip upwards on the inside of your thighs, forcing you forward.

“Joel,” you pant, leaning over him. “Fuck.”

“Gotta let me touch you, baby,” he whispers, hands lifting beneath the fabric of your shirt. His fingers ghost across the curve of your shoulders. “You need it, don’t you?”

You whimper in response and Joel slips past the moment of weakness, taking a strong grip of both shoulders and pulling himself upright on the mattress. The tee slips from your body in one breath, and his hands follow the incline of your neck to your jaw, holding you steady as he fucks up into you.

“You want me to fill you up?” he asks, leaning back with a palm flat on the bed behind to watch himself disappear between your legs.

You’re nodding desperately. “Mhm.”

“Gotta ask nicely, remember? Be a good girl for me?”

“Dick,” you hiss, draping your arms over his shoulders.

He pouts. Sweat gleams on his upper lip. His voice cracks, weakens like stone beginning to crumble. “’s not v-very n-ice, baby.”

“Comeinme,” you beg, your fingers swirling around the dark hair at the bottom of his skull. “Please, come in me.”

“Atta-girl,” he groans, and his hands instantly lock on your hips. You don’t stop him this time, letting him push you down as hard as he can onto his cock, coming as deep inside you as he can.

And then – that familiar feeling of being his. Filled with him, your eyes and your nose and your mouth and your cunt spilling with the sight, smell, taste and feel of him. He coats your walls, throbs deep inside you as he claims every tiny corner of your body.

He growls as his cock twitches, and you watch his expression go from determined, to blissful, to fucking exhausted when he stills and his head rolls forward into your chest. His breath hot and staggered between your breasts; light kisses peppered onto damp skin.

You watch him through a post-sex haze, the air between you thick and blurry, as he presses his lips into your chest. He sucks along the cushion of your breast until he reaches the nipple, lips cupping around it, tongue flicking with all the effort he has left in him.

When he lifts his head again, one final kiss to your sensitive flesh, you balance his chin under your thumbs.

“You come?” he asks, the words propelled by a heavy exhale.

You shake your head slowly. “I’m tired, anyway.”

“Alright,” Joel groans, flipping you over. He pushes your thighs apart, his spend leaking from your slit and running southwards.

“Joel,” you giggle, “c’mon, I’m tired. You don’t have to –”

He’s already pushing himself lower, whipping the dark cotton tee from his shoulders and brushing his naked chest over your stomach. You lower your arms to hook under his.

“Hey. Come here a sec.”

Joel blinks up at you. “What’s up?”

“Just – come here.”

He kneels back up to you, hovering over you with his hands under your shoulders. His limp cock lies against the inside of your thigh as he lowers his weight onto your hips. You tilt your head, mapping his face.

Your knuckle runs across his cheek, the jagged bristle of his beard on your warm skin. Like running your hand under water, unable to tell whether it’s scalding hot or freezing cold – there is no saying whether you’re so used to him now that the feel of him is unaffecting, or entirely all-consuming. There’s no middle ground. Not anymore.

“I know –” You sigh, your voice swollen with a soft cry. There’s no stopping the tears anymore. They just come. “I know you think you should’ve known better. But I am so fucking glad that you didn’t.”

It’s done nothing but pour all day. You woke up this morning to the rain battering against Joel’s window, your body hooked against his by his arm.

Day four. Still no call, no text, no nothing from your dad. You haven’t exactly returned the favor – the closest you dared was having Sarah drive you to your house while he was at work so you could dip into the hallway, grab your car keys, and drive straight back to Joel’s. You pulled up in his driveway alongside each other and she rolled her window down, checking your expression before snorting.

It’s like a damn Mission: Impossible film, she jested.

The pain feels blunter, more distant than it did on Saturday. Like your father has bowed his head, faded some into the dark background of upstage. You realize, a few days in – the movie nights and the meals homecooked by three chefs; the way Joel’s scent starts to become yours, his T-shirts hanging loose over your shoulders and his boxers snug against your hips – that you forget to check on the shadow of your dad. Forget the spot he once stood in, the thunderous cloud cast over his head. The same one that so regularly used to pour rain over you.

Sarah went out with her friends a few hours ago. She called to say she’d miss dinner, so you and Joel ordered Chinese. You’re sat with your legs in his lap picking away at some noodles, scrolling mindlessly on your phone while he catches up on some baseball highlights show.

“Fuckin’ – idiots,” he mumbles, fork angrily picking at rice.

Your eyes don’t lift from the Instagram caption you’re reading. “Fuckin’ idiots,” you flatly agree.

Joel’s head turns. “Alright, Miss Big Rangers Fan. I remember a time you pretended to be into ‘em to get my attention.” He attempts to grab your phone, and you swipe it from his grasp.

“Shut up,” you giggle, grabbing hold of your takeout box. “Joel – be careful!”

He snorts, settling back into the couch, changing the TV channel. You give his thigh a little kick, tugging your blanket up. As the TV switches from one showing to the next, your phone buzzes.

You glance down, chopsticks halfway to your mouth, and freeze.

Dear Candidate…

“Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes glued to the flickering screen.

“Joel.”

“Yes, darlin’?”

You unstick your stare from the phone, looking up to meet his perplexed expression. “They got back to me.”

He squints for a second before the remote is dropped to the cushion. “And?”

“I don’t know, I just saw the first line.”

“Open it, baby. C’mon. Whatever it is, you gotta know.”

“You know what,” you shrug, “I’m good. I don’t need to know. It’s all good.”

“Hey.” Joel snaps his fingers scooping your gaze from the floral, bohemian name on the header of the email and up to his own. “Open it, or I’m kickin’ you out.”

You mock gasp. “You’d put me out on the streets?”

“Worse. Put you back to your dad’s. Now open the email.”

Your thumb trembles as it hovers over the screen, one tap away from the biggest change in your life since you left for New York. Like it’s five years ago, and you’re sat in front of your laptop, psyching yourself up to open the response to your college application.

“Okay,” you breathe, slamming your thumb down. Joel leans in, staring at the screen from upside down.

It swipes across and your eyes flit down, focusing hard on the sentence beneath the opening line. You blink rapidly, waiting for the wash of tears to clear and dissolve it to Unfortunately, or After careful consideration, or We appreciate your interest.

But it never does.

Invite to interview stares back up at you, waiting for your face to break. Expectant, a little nervous. Jittering inside your shaking fist. Joel breaks first, when he spots it.

He almost throws his food onto the coffee table, taking your container from your hands and bundling you up in his. He pulls you into his body, presses heavy kisses to the crook of your neck as you laugh, your entire body quaking with joy and terror and relief and anxiety.

“What’d I tell you?” he says, kissing you roughly. “I knew it, babygirl. I knew you would – Fuck, I am so fucking proud of you.”

“It’s just –” sniff, “– it’s just an interview, remember. I might not get it, in the end.”

Joel shakes his head. “I don’t care. You’re a damn sight closer to gettin’ it than you were three days ago.”

You sit for probably twenty minutes, laughing and then weeping and then laughing again – until the food is cold, there’s a new episode of South Park rolling on TV, and Joel’s T-shirt is soaked with your tears.

“I gotta call Sarah,” you whisper, finger sifting through his hair. Your head buried in his neck, your knees either side of his hips.

“She’s going to lose her fuckin’ mind,” he mumbles into your shoulder, laughing to himself. “She’ll sit off-camera in the corner of the room, so they can’t see her, ‘n hold up cue cards.”

You giggle, letting it dissipate into something weaker, something unconvinced. In a small voice, you say, “We just got one step closer to being four states apart.”

He looks up at you, curving a hand around your jaw, and pulls your lips against his. It’s slow, tender – his every thought and feeling translated into physical movement, transformed into a spin of butterflies in your chest.

When you pull away from him, smiling dumbly, he clips your cheek. “That scare you?”

You hesitate, afraid to tell him the truth. But it’s Joel. He knows every thought that passes through your head. You nod, eyes filling with a salty sting.

“Why?” he asks.

You glance out to the street. “’cause I love you. I don’t wanna leave you.”

Joel nods. Considers it. Then says, “You know why it doesn’t scare me?”

You lift your eyebrows in response. Why?

“Because I love you. And we are gonna be just fine.”

And you believe him.

[walpu]

Turning on your notifs so I can read it first thing hehe

Ratio still consumes my thought so much tho, I want to hold his face in my hands and kiss him silly << me after I see his 'gentle' expression in game.

🗿anon

Hi!! I'm so sorry it took so long, for the past few months my work schedule was rather insane 😭 Hope you'll enjoy this!!

cuddling with tired Ratio

notes - gn!reader, fluffy, Ratio being a tsundere, established relationship, no beta, hidden cat ratio agenda

It's not rare for Veritas to come home in a bad mood. Dealing with stupidity, arrogance and the IPC's unreasonable demands is tiering, so of course he often finds himself in a sour mood.

Knowing him for quite some time, you can easily tell when he's actually upset about something and when he's... well, just being his cranky self.

But today he makes it especially easy for you, and literally anyone else, to tell that he's actually pretty pissed.

Rolling his eyes, huffing and everything.

It's a bit funny even, he looks like a grumpy cat.

A cup of tea you carefully put into his hands snaps him out of this frustrated state and he sighs softly.

"You have my gratitude. A cup of tea after such a day is very much appreciated."

His voice gets a bit softer (not a bit but actually quite noticeably, but don't tell him that), just like it always does when he talks to you.

"You still look tense. Come on, lie down here and tell me how was you day," you tell him, patting your lap. It's hard to suppress a grin, knowing what his reaction will be.

His cheeks immediately flush and he frowns adorably.

"W-What?! Don't be ridiculous! Why would I-! It serves no purpose and- Just ridiculous!"

Awww, he said "ridiculous" twice!

Pet his hair while he sits there, looking like a prickly cat. Your touch makes him shiver, no matter how many time you has touched him before.

It's really not that hard to coax him into cuddling with you. He already wants it, despite himself, so just push him a little. Remind him how important it is to relax his mind and body from time to time.

"And how is this relaxing" he asks stubbornly, despite the fact that he's already leaning closer to you. And then closer. Closer. Even closer.

Aaaaand after a few more moment he drops his head head on your lap with a loud sigh.

"Fine, let's test this theory of yours" he murmurs, looking at you with somewhat of... demanding gaze.

Oh, he wants you to keep caressing him. How cute.

You run your fingers through his hair again, gently massaging his scalp. Ratio relaxes under your touch, closing his eyes. He may not say it out loud, but you know he enjoys it a great deal.

He doesn't really want to talk about his day right now. It was tiering and annoying and he can always tell you everything later. Now he only wants to enjoy this moment with you, the only person who's allowed to treat him like that.

[kanmom51]

I actually have a crazy theory...

I have already sent this ask as the response to someone else’s thoughts, but then I thought about it and I REALLY wanted to know your opinion about this.

I think Jikook by the beginning of last year didn't know they were enlisting together.

I think they obviously knew about buddy system but didn't actually think they would need to use it. Because it's not really done by idols, and also they both could've gone to safer and easier stations, where they could have more freedom.

BUT THEN Jimin started working intensely on his album and JK started acting out (like having drunken lives), and it became VERY CLEAR that they would not be able to do 18 months apart.

I mean do you remember, that at this time JK said himself that he was not working on anything. And I think the plan was for Jimin to go first (just like a lot of us thought he would) and for JK to have more time for promo alone, when others are gone (I’m pretty sure that HYBE definitely wanted for JK to have big solo debut apart from other members).

But then like I said the drunken lives happened and realization hit, that they have to apply for buddy system, that 18 months apart would be BAD for both of them.

And that's when HYBE (or whoever) made specific demands from JK. Like if he wanted to leave by the end of the year (and he had to for buddy system to work) he HAS TO do the album, and because there was no time to write it from scratch they got all the English songs. Also his schedule was extremely packed and difficult.

So I think that the travel show was something Jikook specifically done for themselves because JK's schedule was so insane that if not for that excuse they would not be able to hang out freely before the enlistment. (By the way am I the only one who thinks that we are getting the travel show only next year? And waiting for it now is kinda crazy?)

But again it's just my theory, mostly because HYBE doesn't feel (to me) like the company who would just let their artists do whatever they want. To me they are waaay more pragmatic than that, and if they decided to allow their stars to enlist together (something that isn't really done in idol culture), than they would make sure to get something in return. They worked JK very hard, and I think he took it because he had a specific goal (more like a person) in mind that he was willing to work for.

So, although we might be on the same wave with some of your thoughts, I don't fully agree with you.

I agree that they didn't know they would be enlisting together way back at the start of 2023.

I think that way back then they were still struggling with the realization that they will have to be enlisting. All the way back to the end of 2022, basically up to around the Busan concert, which was October 2022, they still held hope that some kind of arrangement could and would be found to allow for them not to enlist or to serve a shorter term. It was quite a conundrum for them, something I think most of them struggled with (and I say most because I do think that at least one of them did genuinely want to enlist) - on the one hand this is a life changing pretty scary thing (terrifying even - we saw how sad, and I will even say broken, JM was having to shave off his hair, and that was only a small part of it) they would have to do (joining the army is not a walk in the park, no pun intended), not to mention being in their prime, in the height of their success, having to part with the life they are accustomed to (professionally and personally), not being something they would necessarily want to do. And on the other hand you have that sense of commitment to the country and to their fellow Koreans, that have to face that same compulsory enlistment, adding the knowledge that not taking that path of enlistment could also come at a price. Like us, they knew that there were those that indeed believed they should be given an exemption, but at the same time many Koreans would have frowned upon it, and it's them that have to live among their people. Also, enlisting like any other SK young man would allow them more freedom in the future when it comes to voicing their opinions, as they had, like all others who had served their country fulfilling their duties. Criticisms of anything within a society you live in is easier to swallow when the person voicing said opinion is part of that society and enjoys not only the rights bestowed on those who live there, but has also fulfilled all required duties as well.

Long story short, end of 2022 the decision to enlist became a reality and Jin enlisting hit them all VERY hard. At that point I don't think they had a plan of enlistment just yet, although we do know from RM, for instance, that he was supposed to enlist with Hobi but ended up pushing back as he was busy working on his album and preferred not to lose the momentum.

And btw, hearing this from RM also teaches us that JM was never going to enlist so early on. And here I think our ways part when it comes to the continuation of your theory, because I do believe that JM's plan had ALWAYS been to stick around for JK's solo debut, whenever that would be. And I'll get back to it in a few...

JK was struggling start of 2023. What we got to see, starting with his lives in Feb 2023, him deleting his IG, was him pulling himself out of the pit he was in. Taking initiative and deleting his IG (which I will once again say was a big old F U to the company) and reaching out to us with his lives was JK becoming more active in getting better.

*Side note: I'm using the term getting better meaning pulling yourself out of a bad place you are in mentally (one that effects you physically as well).

Idk if starting the lives was a conscious decision on his part towards getting better, but I do believe that starting them was a key part in it.

Talking to us, sharing things with us, setting (at least trying to set) boundaries with his fans what is and is not acceptable on his part as an idol when it comes to fan behavior and interactions with him, doing it all in the most JK way, intelligently and respectfully.

JM was busy all the way from end of July 2023 through to the release of Face and until the end of his promotions. It's not that they weren't seeing each other or spending time together during this time. It's not that JM wasn't there for JK, as much as he could in the moment. It's very important to state this. But JK was struggling with everything. It's the hiatus, Jin's enlistment, their looming enlistment (the unknown of what will be with the two of them - separation for such a long time is something that both of them would find extremely hard to handle for so many reasons), the lack of direction, the lack of a structured timetable (JK is neuro divergent - there is zero doubt in my mind - if it's asd or adhd or a combination of the two, which in my mind is the most likely of them all). He was kind of lost and his anchor, JM, was not available in the way that he needed. Not JM's fault. Not JK's fault. It just was what it was, and JK was a little lost. It's natural for something like this to happen. I spoke about it quite a bit in my posts about his lives at the time. We saw RM was kind of lost for a while there too. The trick is to pick yourself up and pull yourself out of it (with help of others if necessary), and JK did, and JM was ecstatic to see him doing it. Those comments of his during JK's lives (we are talking about the lives during Feb-Mar 2023) were testimony to that.

Once again I can't seem to reign myself in and keep on point, lol.

So, where was I? Oh yes, they didn't know what will happen, but at the same time JM was not planning on enlisting earlier that year. Understand this: JM enlisting earlier would, to them, mean them being apart for not 18 months, but for 18 months plus. Plus the time between JM's enlistment and JK's enlistment. And plus the time from JM's discharge to JK's discharge. Even without JK's situation this was not something that they would want or agree on. Not to mention JK not only wanting JM around for his solo debut, but NEEDING him around for it. And it's not about being by his side 24/7, which he wasn't and he couldn't be. It's about being accessible. Being there to support him if he needed. Whenever he needed it. Being able to be with him for his first solo performance (this brings me close to another ask I received and am working on regarding JK's FIRST big solo performance). All this has to be within the limits of their glass closet (glass getting a little murky for their own liking since the end of 2021 all the way to the end of 2023), and the limits set by the powers of be (some of which JK very defiantly crossed). So yeah, JM was going to wait for JK's solo debut before enlisting.

As for enlisting together. That was something that was being assessed and in the works for several months. Something obviously kept quiet for good reason.

Was there a give and take with the company when it came to JK and the album? 100%. There were things he wanted, there were things they wanted, there were frogs that it being a first solo album he knew he would have to swallow.

Were some of these concessions given to allow the two more freedom, like allowing the 'travel show'? I do believe they were. Perhaps also prices paid (with Golden) for demands agreed upon in their new contracts. I can definitely see that happening.

The push for a full length album could be one of those, for example. JK was talking about a mini album even as late as mid July, and then it turned into a full length album. Could it have been the company pressuring him into it? Yes it could, as in the company wanting this. But JK is not one to cave in just because the company wants. So very possibly we had a bit of give and take going on here, and some of it most definitley would have had to do with allowances made for the two of them.

But at the same time I don't think it had anything to do with the joint enlistment. Not only don't I think that the company would have a say in it, legally or morally, but this wouldn't be something that either of them would stand for. So, in case I didn't make myself clear here, I will say it again - the company didn't use the possibility of joint enlistment as a tool to get something extra out of JK.

You talk about Hybe not being a company that will allow their artists to do as they wish. BTS belong to Big Hit, which is a subsidiary of Hybe. But Hybe would not have existed if not for BTS. BTS made BH what it is today and Hybe was built on their coat tails. And BTS, the members, they have enjoyed many freedoms within their company over the years. Not full freedom though. And Jikook, well they were allowed to be (while in other companies this was not allowed, couples forced apart or forced out). And not only were they allowed to be, but towards the end of 2020 there was movement towards normalizing their relationship, ear suck, hickey and all.

But then came Hybe and Hybe going public, and I knew the day that was announced that even though the members will get a huge payout this move will cost them freedoms they already had, because now there were shareholders and share prices to worry about, and when your band is the main bread winner for that company, well, as I mentioned, there is a price to pay. And they have been paying that price. The two of them for the 2 years prior to their enlistment. As long as they were under their old contracts they were bound by them. Which is why I feel like there will be changes coming when they are done with their MS and well into their new contracts. This will be freedom regarding their art (I think we can already see part of that with RM's new album) but also regarding their personal lives, in a sense of what they can or cannot show if they choose to. JK telling us he's human, telling us he loves us but he deserves to be happy, or even more needs to be happy to be able to create and perform and make us happy (you need to be especially dense if you don't understand that this also includes being in a relationship with another person, who may or may not be a member of his own band). This includes setting boundaries with their fans - yes they love them and feel indebted to them, but at the same time they need to stay in their own lane (I do think JK has been too nice at times setting these boundaries, while others like RM, Yoongi and Tae - a couple of times - were way blunter).

Once again, Hybe wouldn't have the right to 'allow' or 'disallow' them to enlist together. This would have been their decision and theirs alone. Hybe could talk about timing and what they would like to happen before or after, but not if it can or will happen. Hybe could like or dislike it, support it or not, but they would have no power over it. The military alone would have a say if to allow it or not, and at the end of the day we know how that one ended.

I also want to touch on another point.

Again.

Their choice to enlist together.

I've seen talk about Jikookers using the term NEED when it comes to the two of them - needing to be with one another to get through their military service, and I wanted to put in my two cents on this.

The way I think of it is that when people use the term need in that case it's not about saying that if they weren't allowed to enlist together they wouldn't have survived it. No. That isn't it. Not in my opinion, in any case.

These two young men are strong physically and mentally, and they would get through whatever was thrown their way (wouldn't be easy, I tell you that, but they would get through it). Chances are that if they wouldn't have gone down the path of enlisting together they could have landed a cushier placement, band perhaps, like NJ, who knows. But definitley the choice to do this together had a price tag to it, and their letters from Festa tell us as much as well (even though they obviously sugar coat it for us, but the sentiments are clear - it's hard).

So, they chose this. They knew this was going to be hard. A harder, more difficult, placement if they were to go down this path. And yet this was their choice!!

Why?

And here comes that NEED into play.

Yes, I do think that they needed this. They needed each other. They needed to not be separated for 18 months not knowing if and how often they could get to see each other or be together (maybe, if allowed, once in 3 months, and only if their units allowed the time off at the same time). They needed that person that they trusted and KNEW that would stand by their side, that would support them, be their rock, catch them when they fall, be by their side in their time of need, just like they always have been.

They are each other's PERSON. The one that would ALWAYS be there through good and bad.

They both put it down in words:

JM

And JK

Shock, awe... I must be one of those delusional Jikookers that believe JK's lyrics were not describing his relationship with us, the fans. Another song written for the one person they love, yet given as a gift to Army.

And in his very subtle but intelligent way, he told us that himself:

"Even when I was working on the song, I really wanted to release it as a fan song".

Just like JM did, eh?

Would it be too hard to just say : "I wrote this song for my fans"? He chose not to, didn't he? Once again we have choices here.

I digress.

You could replace NEED with WANT, if you will. Same same in this case, imo. Seeing how hard they fought to find their way to this exact point.

The first, the only idols to ever do this!!

Bottom line:

To me, using the term NEED in this context is not about them not being able to make it otherwise, but more about a choice made to have that person they feel closest to, the person that has since forever been their emotional anchor, the person that lifted them up when they fell, the person that stood by them, cared for them, supported them when they were struggling. The person that KNEW them to the core and would be there by their side to get through this together with.

Each other.

[bisonaari]

I don't know if it has been done here before because I don't look around, but I have thoughts about the album and I need to share them with someone or I'm gonna go INSANE

Put your tinfoil hats on for my analysis of everything around People's Champion under the cut (probably people have talked about it and I'm just gonna repeat stuff, be warned)

So I've been a bit insane about People's Champion and I've started to think super hard about the order of the songs. I think, in my opinion, that the songs are arranged to tell the story of his life and career from right after UMK 2023 until now.

Ready To Go: This is where we start. Just post UMK, people didn't fully believe in him yet. I remember people saying "oh yeah sweden is sending someone who already won esc, but we're sending… Jere from Vantaa????". Hence the chorus, where people want to see him fail. But he's ready, he knows that he can do it. He's gonna go through and give his EVERYTHING. The mood of the song is really hopeful, with big intense guitar.

Cha Cha Cha: Do I need to explain this one here? I'm still not over this hahaha, I don't think I'll ever be. But this is where events take a turn for him, hence why it's so early in the album, even though it's his biggest song. Because he has so much to say after Cha Cha Cha happened.

Takavoltti: This is where things start to fuck up. He doesn't want to stay on his butt now that he has achieved celebrity and starts to take on so many, many gigs. A lot of us were worried for his health when we saw how much he was performing during summer 2023. But in the song, he says that he only saw opportunities and he just had to continue to take them. It takes a toll on his body. It starts to hurt, but he goes through it. That mad man. Also a couple of times in the song, people ask him to do stuff. Like a little circus monkey. And he just ends up hurting himself.

Ruoska: The bad comments start to really get to him. In the video, Erika and Käärijä are both dressed and perform as aliens. They've completely been striped of their humanity. They're just gimmicks that you can insult anonymously on the internet. Who cares anyway, they chose this life for themselves. It's their own fault. While the previous song was still a bit on the funny side, this one digs straight into the hardships that they feel. There is no more humour, only pain.

Kot Kot: He's still doing too much. While everyone has gone home, he's still drunk on the dancefloor, trying to reach out for friends who were wiser and left. He's being dragged out of there against his will, because he's so stubborn. Pushing through isn't working anymore, and people around him aren't letting him hurt himself anymore.

Skit: An appointment with a therapist. Käärijä is being cut off CONSTANTLY by the therapist, who can't see Jere as a patient. He sees Käärijä, the star. Even when he's trying to seek help, he isn't listened to. Because he's not human anymore for people at that point.

Autiomaa: Käärijä is breaking down. In the video, the therapist from the skit is taking a picture of him during the appointment. The feeling of loneliness and emptiness is around him all the time, omnipresent, eating him alive. He just wants someone to see him as a person, to listen to him, to help him with the void.

Sex=Money: At that point, you know, might as well. You're not human anymore, who cares. Why not try to get some money selling your ass. Who's gonna care anyway, sex sells and that's what people want to see, right? He made so much money on onlyfans, the press is acting shocked that he would even do that. The song is back to a bit light-hearted. My interpretation would be that he just finds the situation ridiculous, and that's why we're getting humour back in the lyrics!

Bananas: I'm not sure how this one fits in my theory, but we're SO back for humour. Kääriä is getting better. I think that in this one he found resolve to just continue going on. He's annoyed because people still only see him as an object, but he has to go through and live his life. Show must go on.

Huhhuhhei: Quite interesting to put a love song in this timeline in the story. But I think it's because he wants to live in the present, and not in anxieties from the past and the fear of the future. He doesn't know if the person sharing his bed is still gonna be there in the morning, but whatever, it's not important. Tonight, they're his and that's what matters. Thinking of tomorrow isn't gonna bring anything good.

It's Crazy It's Party: He's still stuck in the parties, they're around him all the time. He's still doing a million gigs in Finland and in europe. And just as the song is quite close to Cha Cha Cha, he's back at the beginning, the situation hasn't changed much. But this time, by the end, he goes to the party again, by his own will. And this time, he has people around to party with him.

People's Champion: We're back babes. This song is a love letter to people who love him. This is a great wrap around for this album. He's just remembering how everything went, from the start, until this point. Going through every point and emotion we've been through with him during the album. But in the end, he IS people's champion. He did it. He made it. And even with all the hardships, he's with us, when our hearts all sing together. The last line of this album that isn't a chorus is "Thank you everybody, I love you".

What a journey

So something that you have noticed that I've talked a lot is how people don't recognize Käärijä's humanity. He has been made into a kind of creature of gimmicks. You can ask him everything, you can say everything to his face. Whatever, he's a celebrity, not a person.

And this is where that cover is a GENIUS move.

On the cover, there are NO gimmicks. No bolero, no bowl cut, no bare chest with a tattoo. Just his face. You HAVE to watch his face, there is nothing else to see. You have to watch his emotion being raw, he's crying. This is not a pleasant cover to see. And I know, I've had spotify open on his face all day friday while I was working, it felt awful. But it makes you do something.

You have to acknowledge his humanity. And there's no way around it.

I love Käärijä

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Who Wears Short Shorts?

Week #1 Prompt: Short Shorts | Word Count: 1469 | Rating: M | Pairing: Steddie | Characters: Eddie, Steve, Robin | CW: Mild Sexual Content | Tags: Post S4, Everybody Lives, Eddie POV, Platonic Stobin, Silliness, Fluff, Hair Removal, Getting Together, Blame it on Nair Fumes

Letting himself inside, Eddie looks around, and the house seems empty, even if Steve's car is in the driveway. He pauses, and he's pretty sure he hears the faint sound of music coming from upstairs.

"Hey! Steve?!" Eddie screams, and waits. Nothing.

So, he climbs the staircase, and that's when he hears that the music is coming from the bathroom. He can also hear Steve and Robin talking, arguing, laughing.

When he gets to the doorway, he's very confused.

Very, very confused.

"What exactly is going on here?" Eddie asks, looking back and forth between Steve and Robin, both standing in the bathroom, wearing short shorts, white lotion slathered all over their legs, "And what's that smell?"

Eddie pulls his shirt up over his nose. It smells like some of the chemicals that Wayne sometimes comes home smelling like after a shift at the plant.

It's caustic. Burning his eyes and nose.

Robin wiggles her leg in his direction, "Nair."

"Hold still!" Steve chides her, trying to get her to stop moving without messing up the application.

"Nair," Eddie repeats.

"Nair," Steve confirms.

"And…"

"Who wears short shorts? We wear short shorts! If you dare wear short shorts, Nair for short shorts!" Robin and Steve both sing-song together, loudly, over the already loud music, waving their arms, legs kicking up together into a kickline, the idea of not moving around, obviously long forgotten.

And, oh. Steve's limber. 

Flexible, and Eddie has thoughts he's not supposed to be having right now. 

He feels insane as he reaches over and turns the music down, maybe a first, in his whole lifetime. He's not supposed to be the normal one in any situation. This is wrong. So wrong.

Like, he gets it. He watches TV. He knows what Nair is. Sort of. In theory. He definitely knows the commercial jingle. But he doesn't understand why this is happening right now. He thought they were going swimming. Not, whatever this is.

"You're using Nair? Why?" Eddie asks, because it smells like something that shouldn't be used by humans without proper ventilation. Maybe gas masks. 

"Robin was curious, so I'm showing her how to do it," Steve says, like that's a normal thing for him to say.

"Okay, sure. Of course. New question, why do you know how to do it?" Eddie asks, as he mourns the loss of Steve's leg hair, that Steve is currently in the process of burning off with that eye-wateringly stinky cream. 

"Swim team," Steve says, like that's an explanation. It's not. It's really, really not.

"Swim team," Eddie repeats.

"Yeah, for like, all that aerodynamic shit," Steve says, and Eddie can't help it. He smiles. 

The kitchen timer dings, loud and shrill, in the small room. 

"Is that so?" Eddie asks, leaning against the door jam, watching as Steve wipes the cream off of Robin's legs with a washcloth. Then forces her legs into the tub, one at a time, as he rinses them off. And Eddie can't tell if it worked or not, it's not like Robin's legs were all that hairy to begin with, at least not as far as he's ever noticed. 

But, Steve. Steve's legs are hairy, just like the rest of him, and Eddie's curious. Morbidly, so.

Robin is running her hand over her legs, and Eddie watches as Steve just stands there, grinning at her.

"See?!" Steve says, excited.

Then she coughs.

"I'm gonna go get some fresh air," Robin declares, and Eddie wishes she'd bring a little in for the rest of them, honestly. This bathroom needs a window, desperately.

After she goes, Eddie looks back at Steve, "What about yours?"

"Takes a little longer, my hair is way more thick and coarse than hers," Steve says.

And, yeah it is.

Eddie doesn't want to admit, even to himself, what he thinks about all that body hair Steve has.  But he definitely has thoughts about it. Lots and lots of thoughts.

"I'll do you next," Steve teases.

"The hell you will. I like my leg hair right where it is, Harrington."

"Suit yourself then," Steve says dryly, and he finally starts wiping down his own legs. 

And yeah, he's losing hair up to his knee. Well, some of the hair. A little of it. Honestly, it seems very hit and miss as he wipes it away. Most of his leg hair just looks a little melted, singed, curled. 

Damaged, not removed.

"Is it not working?" Eddie asks, curious what the plan is here.

"Well, it's not perfect," Steve laughs, and it looks pretty bad, but Steve doesn't seem to care, as he adds onto his thought with a breezy, "Oh well."

"Are you just gonna leave it like that?" Eddie asks. Because, honestly. No.

Steve just shrugs, "I guess I could shave them."

And Eddie is pretty sure his brain short circuits, because the next thing that comes out of his mouth is totally against his will, "Can I shave them for you?"

Steve stops, looks at him, then laughs, shrugging his shoulders, "Sure. Okay."

Eddie isn't sure why he asked that, and he feels like his cheeks are on fire. Steve reaches into the medicine cabinet, producing a razor and a can of shaving cream, handing them both to Eddie. Then he plugs the tub, runs some water, and wets his legs with a washcloth, before sitting down on the closed toilet seat. 

Oh shit. 

Shit, shit, shit.

"You want me to…?" Eddie asks, trailing off, waving his hand holding the shaving cream towards Steve's legs.

"You're the one that asked," Steve says, teasing him.

Eddie swallows, kneeling in front of Steve, squeezing some of the shaving foam onto his palm, and then runs it up Steve's leg, applying it, stopping when he gets to the knee.

Steve pulls up on his shorts, his already very short shorts, making them even more indecent, "Might as well go on up."

Eddie's dick twitches at the idea, but he nods, getting some more shaving cream and rubbing it up onto Steve's thighs.

Then he holds the razor in a slightly shaky hand, "You sure you want me to do this?"

Steve shrugs, "It'll grow back."

Eddie nods. That's not exactly what he was asking, but he grips Steve's foot in his hand, and starts running the razor upwards, gently. Trying to be careful. One stripe in, he leans over and rinses the blade off in the tub, looking back up at Steve's face. 

And then keeps shaving, getting everything off his lower legs, before pausing, then just forges ahead. In for a penny, in for a pound.

He puts Steve's heel on his shoulder, giving him access to the underside of his thigh, and he's fully hard in his own shorts now, and he really hopes Steve won't notice. He's sure this isn't supposed to be that. He's not supposed to be getting off on this.

But he is. He really, really is.

He's such a goddamn pervert. 

Then he sees it. The hard line of Steve's cock, pressing against his shorts. His tight shorts.

Eddie drops the razor. It clatters to the tile, and he laughs nervously as he reaches to pick it up.

What is he doing? What are they doing right now? It's madness. It's the fumes. They've gone to their heads. They've lost critical brain function, the both of them. That must be it. It's the only explanation. 

Robin turns back up in the doorway, and they both turn and look at her. It must look crazy, Eddie between Steve's thighs, his leg hoisted up, covered in shaving cream.

"Oh, ew. No," she says, and disappears just as fast as she'd arrived, slamming the door behind her as she goes. 

Steve chuckles, and Eddie gets back to work. Shaving, rinsing. Over and over, until Steve's legs are both bare. 

It's weird, but Eddie can't help himself, and he runs his hand up Steve's calf, slow. Exploring. 

And Steve moans. 

Oh, goddamn. 

Eddie suddenly raises up on his knees, sending Steve backwards, off-balance, falling against the toilet tank. 

"Am I reading this wrong?" Eddie asks, chest heaving. Both of his hands clutching Steve's wet, smooth thighs.

Steve shakes his head, pupils blown wide, and Eddie runs his hand up, cupping Steve through his short shorts. Leaning forward, pressing against Steve, contorting Steve's body, as Eddie leans close enough to kiss him.

And he does, lips barely brushing, lightly, and it isn't lost on Eddie that he put his hand on Steve's dick before they even kissed. 

Steve leans forward, surging into him, kissing back. Hand coming up to press against the back of Eddie's head, pulling him closer. 

And Eddie's sure he'll die right here, for real this time.

If not from the lingering toxic fumes, definitely from Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌞

Notes: There are lots of different versions of the Nair "short shorts" commercials, but here's one from the 70s, if you're unfamiliar.

[clownboymcchucklefuck]

KLEIN V.01 Theory - Where the Power button is.

This is just a quick little thing I threw together to get back into writing my theories and analysies so its a bit short.

I had written this before in an ask to the blog when my tumblr crashed so hhhhhhhh I wish it stayed because I don't like this as much as the OG.

I'm going based off the process of elimination here for the answer to this and it's all because of one post that really got me thinking.

It was asked if the power button was on Klein's center chest and the answer was no because it could accidentally be pressed during tight hugs.

That tells me that wherever it is, can't be somewhere that could accidentally press it in mundane activities.

Process of elimination/Where it couldn't be:

It can't be above heart because once again, it could be pressed during a tight hug of some sort. This could basically count for his whole front torso so we can mark that off.

It can't be on his back due to there's also different ways it could be accidentally pressed there. Laying down, getting back hugs from MC, leaning agaisnt a wall etc could all cause an accidental shut down.

Behind the neck or around neck area has already been crossed off as well, I sent an ask slapping the bar code on the back of his neck and Klein himself says that it wasn't there along with us seeing his neck and there was clearly no indication around there.

He even goes as far as to mentioning that they could look around for whatever button they wanted but the shutdown button was off limits.

The lower legs below the knees...yeah I can't see how that would work in anyways. Also it would be stupid if he got shut down because he got hit in the ankle with a scooter.

Just kinda outer body if you get me.

Places it COULD be:

I've thought about this for quite a while and even studied some of his art, but on terms of not being able to activate on access I say probably inner thigh perhaps but then that doesn't make much sense but at the same time it does. Ahshdhdbdb

Going around that same groin area I also thought of that area where its under your belly but also not actual crotch, that way in would be in an easily accessed spot but I couldn't easily be activated. And no I'm not going NSFW situations because the creator said the game is not 18+.

Now, back to where I said design wise I was thinking maybe somewhere on the arms, with his jacket having a slight glow to it and the fact it is a somewhat heavy one could stop accidental presses and whatnot.

[Glowing on the right (left?) Arm sleeve does look a bit suspicious to me but that could just be a second bar code.]

Well, that's all I have for now but than you for reading this descent into insanity because this is one of the few visual novels that have genuinely left me scared shitless, its an amazing VN.

Klein belongs to: @kleinv01