#science and details later

[arctic-shard]

Outer Child, chapter 1

( Trying something different, gang.  After drawing that silly picture of 035 and 049 as toddlers, the idea wouldn’t let go.  ‘[Character] gets turned into a kid’ is generally a fluff trope, but I do enjoy taking fluff tropes and playing them serious.  Also it’s a low-stakes exercise to get back into writing regularly again.  This is probably just going to be short chapters since I plan on just banging it out without thinking too hard. )

Outer Child, chapter 1

Warnings: none

Words: 750~

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  "The Serpent's Hand had discovered an anomalous object," said Dr Colin Combs, the researcher currently studying SCP-049 and related phenomena.  "Which our people took from them.  Then the Serpents Hand sent their own strike force to get it back."

  Dr Victoria West, these days contained as SCP-049-3, knew there had been an attack three nights before.  The alarms had gone off but the trouble hadn't reached Light Containment.  This was the first time she was getting any details, even when she asked.

  She stood beside Combs, in the observation room of a small testing chamber, hidden from the entities inside by a one-way mirror.  The chamber was divided in half by a transparent barrier, 049 on one side and 035 on the other.  They were ignoring each other - 049 seated on the floor, glancing about nervously while 035 danced around, singing to itself.

  Victoria said nothing.  Combs cleared his throat and continued.  "In the confusion, 035 breached containment.  It then went to breach 049.  We don't know if they planned to find you next or just attack the Serpent's Hand agents."

  It was probably the only reason the Foundation tolerated Victoria's relationship with 049 and 035 at all - it kept 035 somewhat under control.  Regular visits with 049 and Victoria kept 035 and less inclined to mayhem, and when it did breach, it wouldn't cause lasting harm to Foundation personnel.  Victoria had no control over 035, it just knew that it had to compromise if it wanted her to love it.  She had to make her own compromises as well.

  She didn't look away from the testing chamber.  "And then?"

  "035 and 049 ended up in the middle of a skirmish between our agents and the Serpent's Hand," Combs continued.  "The object the Serpent's Hand were trying to steal back from us activated, catching three of our agents, four of theirs, 035, and 049 in its effect.  The affected humans were taken to another Site to try to help them."

  Now Victoria looked over at Combs.  "Why wasn't I told earlier?"

  "Because you're not a Foundation researcher anymore," Combs reminded her flatly.  Becoming anomalous wasn't an automatic firing, but an intimate relationship with an SCP entity was.  Victoria hadn't intended for things to go so far with 049 when she started talking to him afterhours, but they had, and later 035 invited itself along because it and 049 were, as 049 put it once, bound and together.  She'd ended up marrying them both, sort of, because she'd come to realise she needed them both, and they'd needed her.

  Except now, both of Victoria's spouses had been anomalously transformed into toddlers.

  "We ran some tests," said Combs as Victoria returned her attention to the two small entities.  "Physically, 049 still has a keratin mask and his robes are part of his body and all his other unusual traits are there, and 035 is an exoskeletal other-dimensional alien filled with black goo.  However, their effects are weakened - 049's touch no longer kills, it just causes unconsciousness.  He might still sense the Pestilence - he would start crying around some people for no discernable reason.  035's acid can't burn, it's about as dangerous as lemon juice now.  They seem to think like the three-year-olds they appear to be.  We haven't been able to get much information out of them because, well, they're toddlers and they don't trust us."

  "The only reason I was told of this was because the Foundation wants me to try to interview them," said Victoria.  "You hope they'll remember me enough to trust me."

  "Yes.  049 seemed to accept me as a safe adult more than he did the others, but we don't have a connection."

  "I don't know how to deal with children, Combs."  Victoria had the maternal instincts of a witch in a gingerbread house.

  "But you do know how to deal with 049 and 035."

  This time she rounded on the man fully.  "I am - was? - married to them, Combs!  And now they're goddamn toddlers!  That's weird even by Foundation standards!"

  Combs took a step back - he'd never developed the unflappable poker face most researchers had.  "Look at it this way - do you trust anyone else to look after them properly?"

  That pulled Victoria up short.  She'd been a Foundation researcher for twenty years before being fired.  She knew how the Foundation operated and she wasn't going to leave her anomalies to them while they were helpless.

[echoes-lighthouse]

OKAY alright I finalized my Hellaverse self-insert!!!

I played around with my original spider-based 'sona and I had a couple drafts of a Vox-centric selfship with a different self-insert but in the end I'm settling down with this version.

S/I INFO <(^-^)>

This self-insert is a professional dominatrix. They're hell-born: their dad is an imp and their mum is a succubus, so they have some traits from both sides. They started out as a server at Ozzy's and worked their way up the chain, and now they're a pretty high-profile worker in Hell.

They are a nonsexual dominatrix: which is to say, their clothes don't come off when they're with clients. Anything else depends on the specific contract that they've negotiated.

Echo signs contracts with all of their clients: if a safeword is ever ignored or prevented, then the perpetrator's soul is forfeit to the victim. This makes sure that everyone is safe in any scene, both Echo and their client. No one has ever tested that particular clause, which is good because Echo's not sure what they would do with a soul in their service.

SELFSHIPS

#secrets of the stars: Echo and Stolas (originally introduced here)

Stolas and Echo met at a party that Stolas wasn't enjoying. The two of them hit it off, and Stolas gave them a call about a week later for their services. The two of them had a working relationship for about two years, but it's slowly turned into a friendship. That's not so unusual for Echo and their hellborn clients: they keep a better distance with the sinners, usually.

#digital poison: Echo and VoxVal

Valentino and Echo crossed paths a few times in the industry: Echo did some video work for him for a while before Asmodeus yanked them back from that particular studio. Echo kept Valentino as a personal client, which he mostly uses to try and leverage them back into the studio: Echo is enjoying the game that they're playing.

Vox and Echo met through Valentino, and Echo genuinely likes Vox as a client. They make concessions for Vox a little too often, and is aware that it might be a problem (especially considering their side-game with Valentino), but they have a bad habit of running with their instincts without thinking too much about it.

[sixofravens-reads]

Good news: walked up to the library and got my hold!

Bad news:

Accidentally borrowed the children's version of this science book.

[pallases]

i should not be allowed to think abt humanities degrees after 10 pm im not joking

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Sandra Newman’s “Julia”

The first chapter of Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four has a fantastic joke that nearly everyone misses: when Julia, Winston Smith's love interest, is introduced, she has oily hands and a giant wrench, which she uses in her "mechanical job on one of the novel-writing machines":

https://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks01/0100021.txt

That line just kills me every time I re-read the book – Orwell, a novelist, writing a dystopian future in which novels are written by giant, clanking mechanisms. Later on, when Winston and Julia begin their illicit affair, we get more detail:

She could describe the whole process of composing a novel, from the general directive issued by the Planning Committee down to the final touching-up by the Rewrite Squad. But she was not interested in the finished product. She 'didn't much care for reading,' she said. Books were just a commodity that had to be produced, like jam or bootlaces.

I always assumed Orwell was subtweeting his publishers and editors here, and you can only imagine that the editor who asked Orwell to tweak the 1984 manuscript must have felt an uncomfortable parallel between their requests and the notional Planning Committee and Rewrite Squad at the Ministry of Truth.

I first read 1984 in the early winter of, well, 1984, when I was thirteen years old. I was on a family trip that included as visit to my relatives in Leningrad, and the novel made a significant impact on me. I immediately connected it to the canon of dystopian science fiction that I was already avidly consuming, and to the geopolitics of a world that seemed on the brink of nuclear devastation. I also connected it to my own hopes for the nascent field of personal computing, which I'd gotten an early start on, when my father – then a computer science student – started bringing home dumb terminals and acoustic couplers from his university in the mid-1970s. Orwell crystallized my nascent horror at the oppressive uses of technology (such as the automated Mutually Assured Destruction nuclear systems that haunted my nightmares) and my dreams of the better worlds we could have with computers.

It's not an overstatement to say that the rest of my life has been about this tension. It's no coincidence that I wrote a series of "Little Brother" novels whose protagonist calls himself w1n5t0n:

https://craphound.com/littlebrother/Cory_Doctorow_-_Little_Brother.htm

I didn't stop with Orwell, of course. I wrote a whole series of widely read, award-winning stories with the same titles as famous sf tales, starting with "Anda's Game" ("Ender's Game"):

https://www.salon.com/2004/11/15/andas_game/

And "I, Robot":

https://craphound.com/overclocked/Cory_Doctorow_-_Overclocked_-_I_Robot.html

"The Martian Chronicles":

https://escapepod.org/2019/10/03/escape-pod-700-martian-chronicles-part-1/

"True Names":

https://archive.org/details/TrueNames

"The Man Who Sold the Moon":

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/05/22/the-man-who-sold-the-moon/

and "The Brave Little Toaster":

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212

Writing stories about other stories that you hate or love or just can't get out of your head is a very old and important literary tradition. As EL Doctorow (no relation) writes in his essay "Genesis," the Hebrews stole their Genesis story from the Babylonians, rewriting it to their specifications:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/41520/creationists-by-e-l-doctorow/

As my "famous title" stories and Little Brother books show, this work needn't be confined to antiquity. Modern copyright may be draconian, but it contains exceptions ("fair use" in the US, "fair dealing" in many other places) that allow for this kind of creative reworking. One of the most important fair use cases concerns The Wind Done Gone, Alice Randall's 2001 retelling of Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind from the perspective of the enslaved characters, which was judged to be fair use after Mitchell's heirs tried to censor the book:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suntrust_Bank_v._Houghton_Mifflin_Co.

In ruling for Randall, the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals emphasized that she had "fully employed those conscripted elements from Gone With the Wind to make war against it." Randall used several of Mitchell's most famous lines, "but vest[ed] them with a completely new significance":

https://law.justia.com/cases/federal/appellate-courts/F3/268/1257/608446/

The Wind Done Gone is an excellent book, and both its text and its legal controversy kept springing to mind as I read Sandra Newman's wonderful novel Julia, which retells 1984 from the perspective of Julia, she of the oily hands the novel-writing machine:

https://www.harpercollins.com/products/julia-sandra-newman?variant=41467936636962

Julia is the kind of fanfic that I love, in the tradition of both Wind Done gone and Rosenkrantz and Gildenstern Are Dead, in which a follow-on author takes on the original author's throwaway world-building with deadly seriousness, elucidating the weird implications and buried subtexts of all the stuff and people moving around in the wings and background of the original.

For Newman, the starting point here is Julia, an enigmatic lover who comes to Winston with all kinds of rebellious secrets – tradecraft for planning and executing dirty little assignations and acquiring black market goods. Julia embodies a common contradiction in the depiction of young women (she is some twenty years younger than Winston): on the one hand, she is a "native" of the world, while Winston is a late arrival, carrying around all his "oldthink" baggage that leaves him perennially baffled, terrified and angry; on the other hand, she's a naive "girl," who "doesn't much care for reading," and lacks the intellectual curiosity that propels Winston through the text.

This contradiction is the cleavage line that Newman drives her chisel into, fracturing Orwell's world in useful, fascinating, engrossing ways. For Winston, the world of 1984 is totalitarian: the Party knows all, controls all and misses nothing. To merely think a disloyal thought is to be doomed, because the omnipotent, omniscient, and omnicompetent Party will sense the thought and mark you for torture and "vaporization."

Orwell's readers experience all of 1984 through Winston's eyes and are encouraged to trust his assessment of his situation. But Newman brings in a second point of view, that of Julia, who is indeed far more worldly than Winston. But that's not because she's younger than him – it's because she's more provincial. Julia, we learn, grew up outside of the Home Counties, where the revolution was incomplete and where dissidents – like her parents – were sent into exile. Julia has experienced the periphery of the Party's power, the places where it is frayed and incomplete. For Julia, the Party may be ruthless and powerful, but it's hardly omnicompetent. Indeed, it's rather fumbling.

Which makes sense. After all, if we take Winston at his word and assume that every disloyal citizen of Oceania is arrested, tortured and murdered, where would that leave Oceania? Even Kim Jong Un can't murder everyone who hates him, or he'd get awfully lonely, and then awfully hungry.

Through Julia's eyes, we experience Oceania as a paranoid autocracy, corrupt and twitchy. We witness the obvious corollary of a culture of denunciation and arrest: the ruling Party of such an institution must be riddled with internecine struggle and backstabbing, to the point of paralyzed dysfunction. The Orwellian trick of switching from being at war with Eastasia to Eurasia and back again is actually driven by real military setbacks – not just faked battles designed to stir up patriotic fervor. The Party doesn't merely claim to be under assault from internal and external enemies – it actually is.

Julia is also perfectly positioned to uncover the vast blank spots in Winston's supposed intellectual curiosity, all the questions he doesn't ask – about her, about the Party, and about the world. I love this trope and used it myself, in Attack Surface, the third "Little Brother" book, which is told from the point of view of Marcus's frenemy Masha:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531/attacksurface

Through Julia, we come to understand the seemingly omniscient, omnipotent Party as fumbling sadists. The Thought Police are like MI5, an Island of Misfit Toys where the paranoid, the stupid, the vicious and the thuggish come together to ruin the lives of thousands, in such a chaotic and pointless manner that their victims find themselves spinning devastatingly clever explanations for their behavior:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/adamcurtis/entries/3662a707-0af9-3149-963f-47bea720b460

And, as with Nineteen Eighty-Four, Julia is a first-rate novel, expertly plotted, with fantastic, nail-biting suspense and many smart turns and clever phrases. Newman is doing Orwell, and, at times, outdoing him. In her hands, Orwell – like Winston – is revealed as a kind of overly credulous romantic who can't believe that anyone as obviously stupid and deranged as the state's representatives could be kicking his ass so very thoroughly.

This was, in many ways, the defining trauma and problem of Orwell's life, from his origin story, in which he is shot through the throat by a fascist: sniper during the Spanish Civil War:

https://www.rjgeib.com/thoughts/soldiers/george-orwell-shot.html

To his final days, when he developed a foolish crush on a British state spy and tried to impress her by turning his erstwhile comrades in to her:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orwell%27s_list

Newman's feminist retelling of Orwell is as much about puncturing the myth of male competence as it is about revealing the inner life, agency, and personhood of swooning love-interests. As someone who loves Orwell – but not unconditionally – I was moved, impressed, and delighted by Julia.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/28/novel-writing-machines/#fanfic

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

not me doomposting about l*ona again

I pointed out in an older post that Leona seems to demonstrate a unique ability to unite others under a common cause. This is in spite of the lore stating that it's very difficult to get different kinds of beastmen to see eye-to-eye, so much so that Sunset Savanna's acting king, his older brother, has yet to really unify their people.

WELL.

***Spoilers for Leona's Nightmare Suit vignettes below the cut!***

A central theme to Leona's Nightmare Suit vignettes is figuring out what makes someone worthy of being "king". At the start, everyone is reminded of Jack Skellington's status as the "King of Halloween, which makes him the most important person in town. However, Leona's quick to point out that the title isn't what's important, but what one achieves is. He then expresses interest in what it is exactly that Jack Skellington does around here to earn his crown. His opinion of Jack isn’t that good; in the event story, Leona thinks Jack doesn’t pay attention and doubts that he can have deep thoughts. Jack describes his duties as making Halloween the scariest it can possibly be. He drives around in his buggy, walks his dog Zero through the local cemetery, studies and conducts experiments, and reviews the proposals from Halloween Town residents. An important part of his job is considering his people's ideas! But Leona thinks there could be a more efficient way to do this rather than having the king read the proposals one by one. We can see a divide between their ways of thinking; Jack is willing to hear individuals out whereas Leona is focused on efficiency. This is also reflected in how they assign tasks later in the vignettes. Jack has everyone going up one ladder to decorate, while Leona commands the witches to do this task, as its much faster for them to do on their brooms. I don't know if this was intentional, but the way Jack rules feels reminiscent to how Leona often describes his older brother, Farena/Falena. So often does Leona mention that Falena is too kind and cares too much for others, which impedes on the political and economic gains he could be making if he were just more focused on his goals. “[Falena] could just focus on the kingdom’s affairs–you know, his JOB–but nooo, he’s gotta be the caring big brother who’s nice to everybody." (If you want to read a more in-depth analysis of Falena vs Leona's priorities when it comes to ruling, please read this post.)

Leona claims that the qualifications for king around here are actually really simple--and yeah, maybe there's nothing more to his line than this, but considering that in his home country one's order of birth is also a strong determinant, a merit-based system like what's seen in Halloween Town probably is simpler to him. And that means it's his time to shine and be acknowledged when he wasn't successful at earning this recognition back home.

Now, what REALLY surprised me in these vignettes wasn't that Leona knows how to boss around his peers and put their strengths to use (for example, he tells Vil, who has an eye for detail, to look over the embroidery, and Idia, who is a science and math whiz, to handle difficult calculations). It's that Leona is also perfectly aware of the abilities of the Halloween Town residents--people he has only known for less than three days--and uses them and their skills well too. That's an insanely short amount of time to get to know an entire TOWN'S worth of people and what each of them are like... yet he just pulls it off effortlessly????? HUH... This earns him the praise of Dr. Finkelstein, the mayor, Jack, Sally, and Skully. Sally in particular highlights Leona's strengths very concisely, stating that he can accurately assess the situation and give appropriate directions on how to act in that situation. Skully adds that Leona technically doesn't move himself or do any of the dirty work, he's focused solely on giving orders. This makes him a "king" and a leader of equal standing as Jack Skellington. And then Skully--SKULLY, THE OBSESSED HALLOWEEN OTAKU THAT THINKS HALLOWEEN SHOULD BE A VERY SPECIFIC WAY--says that Halloween was made possible by not one, but two great kings this year. It just goes to show how much one can truly accomplish when not barred by a negative environment and a lack of social support.

One definition of "king" that is offered in these vignettes is "the one who can bring everyone together". That's certainly something that both Leona and Jack do, albeit in very different ways. But then, at the end of the Halloween Town segment of the vignettes, Leona acknowledges that "king" can be defined another way. He realizes that Jack is recognized as king not just because he's a leader, but because he's also needed and loved by the townspeople. This, too, is a "king". However, it seems that this is a definition that Leona somewhat looks down upon, as he basically apologizes to Jack for not thinking highly of him at first. Again, Leona prioritizes getting shit done, no matter what the cost of it may be--and even if it earns him the ire of others. This, as I said earlier, puts him in stark contrast to Jack, as well as his own older brother. But here and now, we have Leona finally seeing the strength that a different kind of ruling can have instead of always speaking so disparagingly about it. Even if it's just a little... it feels like he's growing and learning, doesn't it?

The vignettes end on flashing forward to Leona back at Savanaclaw dorm. A few of his freshmen students are goofing off right before magift/spelldrive practice is about to start. As soon as Leona shows up, the freshmen snap to attention and rush off to change for practice. Jack (Howl, not Skellington, lol) remarks that usually the other first years are so lazy, but their attitudes completely changed when their dorm leader appeared. Ruggie chimes in, saying that Leona keeps the entire dorm in line... THJBAEBVUFAEIYAFIOYBVADFILH ThEN HE CALLS THEIR KING THE BEST... AND JACK AGTREESS... WHAT DO YOU MEAN, SHUT THE FUCK UPAS ALREADY STOP POGINTONG OUT HE'S A AGOODFK leADER DFOR YOUE AEPEOPLE YADFJKHAFLIYVDGVYUADGVUEGAVN

In response to the praise, Leona says that simply scolding misbehaving students doesn't make you a king. If it were as simple as that, it would be a pretty cheap throne build only on flattery. The vignettes end with him telling everyone to move their asses to practice. lh WDBHFAIYOEAIYEIYF BUT TAHAT'S PRETY YMASSIVE FOR HS CHARACTER... These vignettes demonstrate that Leona's not fixated on the title of king, but what it means to truly "be" a king and leader. He doesn't value being called a "king" if he feels it's easily earned, he wants to prove himself worthy of it and earn that title through his talents. This all circles back to a thought I had a while ago: that what Leona is after isn't the literal seat of king, but all the things that come with it but was denied of in his childhood. Respect, admiration, recognition for his abilities.

And 💦 Leona doesn’t realize it yet (either that, or he’s in complete denial) but… He also fits that second definition of “king” 😭 He’s the type of person that gets things done (like what he believes should define a king) BUT GIS DORM MEMBERS ALL ALSO NEED AND LOVE HIM…

OOoogohoggoOGH... OTL I hate how well it comes together...

[waitimcomingtoo]

Interception

Pairing: Peter Parker x Best Friend!Reader

Synopsis: Flash’s pool party turns into a kissing party and Peter fears you’ll kiss someone else

Masterlist

“Hobo. Bride of hobo. Are you coming to my party Friday?” Flash said as he held up a bright orange flyer that had the details of a pool party at his house on it.

“What party?” Peter asked as he shut his locket.

“The party you weren’t invited to. Later suckers.” Flash laughed obnoxiously, flipped you both off, and then ran away. You and Peter looked at each other before shaking your heads in disbelief.

“Wow. I haven’t been called a sucker in…ever.” You realized.

“Me either. I thought it was one of those fake high school experiences that only happens in movies. Like a bully asking for your lunch money or dunking your head in a toilet.” Peter replied.

“Or making a volcano for the science fair.” You added, making Peter smile.

“Yeah. Exactly.” He said as he looked at you fondly for understanding him.

“So what are we gonna do Friday while the rest of our school goes to Flash’s super cool party?” You asked as you threw some books in your locker.

“Oh, we’re hanging out on Friday? I didn’t know that.” Peter blushed at your nonchalant invitation. You’d never hung out just the two of you before and the fact that it seemed like an obvious choice of plans for you made Peter happy.

“Well, duh. Neds definitely gonna be invited ever since him and Flash bonded over getting left behind on the field trip freshman year. We should do something.”

“Just you and me?” Peter asked with a hopeful smile.

“Yeah. It’ll be fun.” You smiled back and wondered if the thought of alone time was as exciting for you as it was for Peter.

“Maybe we can grab some ice cream and then hang out on my roof. It’s pretty nice up there once you scare the bats away.”

“I love that idea. It’s a date.” You replied without thinking. You face dropped when you realized what you called it while Peter turned bright red.

“Or whatever we want to call it.” You quickly added with a forced laugh.

“We can call it a date.” Peter shrugged, taking you by surprise. You smiled at him just as the bell rang.

“Well then it’s a date. Catch you later, P.” You squeezed Peters arm before going to your next class. Peter watched you leave with a dreamy smile on his face. This Friday, you’d finally be going on a date. Whether it was an ice cream date, a friend date, or a date date, he was just happy to be going with you.

The next day, Flash caught up to you on campus and walked with you to your next class.

“Hey, pookie. I would like to formally invite you to my pool party.” Flash said as he held out a flyer for his party.

“Really? What made you change your mind?” You laughed in surprise and took the flyer.

“I realized something and had a change of heart.” He replied.

“Oh yeah? What did you realize?”

“That inviting you gets I mean to see you in a bathing suit.” Flash said, making you laugh in shock.

“Gross. But thanks. For the invite, I mean. Not for the other thing.” You said and shoved the flyer in your backpack.

“You can bring Parker too. Since you two are dating or cousins or whatever.”

“Neither.” You chuckled. “But yeah, I’ll bring him.”

“Perf. See you Friday, my little cinnamon apple.” Flash blew you a kiss and walked away just as Peter approached you.

“What did he want?” Peter faked a laugh and hoped it hid the jealousy he felt when he saw Flash blowing you a kiss.

“Good news. Flash kindly extended the invitation to us.” You said and took the flyer out to show Peter.

“Oh, really? So we can go?” Peter asked and hoped he didn’t sound as disappointed as he felt. He could care less about a stupid party. He just wanted to be with you.

“Yeah. If you want.” You shrugged, also not really wanting to go. Your date with Peter sounded much more appealing.

“Sure. It’ll be fun.” Peter lied through a smile.

“Maybe we can still get ice cream after. Just the two of us.” You suggested, making Peters smile turn genuine.

“Yeah. If the party’s lame, we can just slip out and go on our date.” Peter said just to use the word “date” again. You smiled sheepishly and nodded your head.

“It probably will be lame. We can stay for the food and then have some real fun. Just me and you.”

“Ned will probably want to come with us, though.” Peter realized as his disappointment returned.

“Too bad.” You shrugged. “He can hang with us anytime. But he can’t come on our date.”

Peter grinned as you said everything he hoped you would. Your date was still on the table and he might even get to see you in a bikini before it. That was the only thing making either of you want to go to the party.

When Friday came, there was prep to be done. You and Peter went to your dorms after class and began to prepare for the evening ahead. Peter laid out all his swim trunks before trying them all on to see which one he could best impress you in. Meanwhile, you were looking in your floor length mirror and making an important decision.

“I’m gonna shave my entire body.” You whispered to yourself. When MJ came home from class a little while later, she found you covered neck to toe in shaving cream with a razor in your hand.

“Should I even ask?” She asked when you froze at the sound of her opening the door.

“Pool party.” You told her. “Peters gonna be there. I don’t want him to know I have body hair. He can’t see the hair on my upper thighs. He just can’t, MJ.”

“Every single person literally ever, including Peter, has body hair covering their entire body. He already knows you have hair on your thighs. Everyone does. Why do you have to do all this?” She couldn’t help but laugh as she gestured to your shaving cream covered body.

“Look, you don’t shave your armpits and that’s amazing and more power to you for not caring about society’s expectations for female body hair, but tonight, I do care. I care enough to need Peter to think I’m as sleek and slippery as an exfoliated baby dolphin covered in baby oil.”

“Fine. Give me a razor. I’ll do your back.” MJ sighed and held out her hand. You fist pumped before giving her a spare razor.

Peter was back in his room making sure he looked his best for you. He ended up in navy blue swim trunks and a fitted white T-shirt that you complimented once. He twirled around in front of his mirror and made sure everything looked right. When he was satisfied, he drenched himself in body spray, grabbed a towel, and headed to your dorm.

You rinsed off the shaving cream and put on a perfume that Peter said he liked once before changing into your bathing suit. You put your hair into two braids and threw a big shirt on over it just as Peter came knocking on your door. You gave MJ a look before throwing on a smile and opening the door.

“Hey, P. Oh, I like that shirt.” You complimented him as you leaned against your door.

“Oh, thanks.” Peter blushed even though he only wore that shirt for you. “I, uh, like your hair like that.”

“Thanks. I didn’t want the chlorine to dry it out.” You shrugged and tugged on one of your braids to draw attention to it.

“It’s cute.” Peter said in a weak voice, making your smile.

“Yeah? I’ll have to do it more often then.” You did your best to flirt. Peter laughed shyly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“You should. It looks really good on you.” He said without making eye contact. Something was most definitely in the air between you tonight and you both felt it. You touched your braid again not to draw attention to it, but to feel beneath your fingers what Peter was seeing.

“Damn. I thought the awkward friend hook up happens after the party. Should I leave?” MJ said from behind you. You hung your head in shame as Peter turned red.

“We’re leaving. Bye.” You gave her a look as you grabbed your bag and shut the door.

“Use protection! And I don’t mean sunblock.” She called after you from inside your dorm room.

“Oh my God. We need to get out of here.” You laughed in embarrassment and took Peters hand to pull him towards the elevator. Once you were in the elevator, you stood side by side and avoided eye contact since MJ had now made things awkward. You didn’t know how tonight was gonna go, but going to sleep as more than friends with Peter would be nice. Even if all that happened was a kiss, you’d be satisfied.

You and Peters hands bumped a few times as you walked to Flash’s house. You had a feeling in your gut that once you walked into this party, things were going to change. You could only hope they were changing for the better.

“Well look who it is. Frick and Frack. Welcome to my party.” Flash greeted you and Peter as you walked in through his gate. Flash’s house was naturally enormous and his pool looked like a lake. There was a water fall on one end, a diving board, and a tray of drinks going around on an inflatable table. Flash himself was in the tiniest pair of swim trunks you had ever seen. They were golden and had his name stitched across the butt, making you and Peter burst out laughing when you saw it.

“Hey Flash. Thanks for the invite.”

“My pleasure. Or, it will be once you drop that shirt.” Flash winked at you. “Anyways, hope you guys brushed your teeth before this.”

“Why?” You frowned. You had, of course, and so did Peter.

“Because this is a kissing party.” Flash said like it was obvious. Your eyebrows went up and you looked at Peter who was just as confused.

“Sorry, what? What the hell is a kissing party?” You laughed, thinking he was kidding.

“Duh. It’s a party where you kiss as a competition.” Flash rolled his eyes. “The person at the end of the party who kisses the most people wins.”

“Wins what?” Peter wondered.

“The Cuban Rizzle Crisis.” Flash shrugged. “You’re crowned Rizz Khalifa. The Rizzly Bear. You get a degree in Quantum Rizzics. You become the Rizzard of Oz. You star in Harry Potter and the Rizzoner of Azcaban. You feel me?”

There was a long, long silence as you and Peter stared at Flash. Flash’s gaze was piercing as he looked back at the two of you with no shame.

“What?” Peter said finally, making Flash roll his eyes.

“Just kiss as many people as you can and keep count.”

“But can’t multiple people win if they all kiss everyone at the party?” You pointed out.

“Not everyone plays.” Flash shrugged. “Plus, people are always coming and going. There is never a fixed amount of people here. And you can deny a kiss if you think the person is gross.”

“So you probably won’t get any kisses then.” Peter said, making you laugh.

“Suck my balls, Parker.” Flash scoffed before turning to you.

“By the way, cutie pie, that’s an open invitation.” He said with a wink.

“Hard pass.” You replied.

“All right. Let me know if you change your mind, pookie.” He winked at you again and you looked away.

“I won’t. And I don’t think I’m gonna play. I don’t really get down like that.” You told Flash. Peter internally sighed in relief. He had feared that you were gonna play and end up kissing other people while he had to watch. But luckily, you were on the same page.

“Me either.” Peter added. You looked at him in surprise before smiling.

“Fine. You two can just make out in the corner or call your grandma or something.” Flash grumbled.

“Again, not dating and not cousins.” You corrected Flash.

“Whatever. I don’t judge.” Flash held up his hands and walked away. Once you and Peter were alone again, you looked at each other and laughed.

“Kissing party? Come on. That’s not a real thing, is it?” Peter asked you.

“I think he got it from a movie or something. There’s no way people really do this. Imagine the germs. Bleh.” You stuck your tongue out and then pulled your shirt off. Peters whole world stopped as he saw you in a bathing suit for the first time since sixth grade. He didn’t realize how much he was staring until he heard you laugh uncomfortably.

“Peter? Are you still with me?” You asked and waved a hand in front of his face.

“Yeah. Sorry. I thought I saw a bug on your leg.” He lied before tugging his shirt off. You stared at him shamelessly until the shirt was over his head and then pretended you were looking somewhere else. It had slipped your mind that Peter got randomly jacked one day and he had just reminded you with a full view. You’d only ever seen his muscles through his occasional tight shirt but this was much more revealing than that. You snuck one more glance and gulped before throwing on a smile.

“Do you want to get in the water?” You asked. Being in the water mean you wouldn’t have to fight for your life trying not to stare at Peters body for a while.

“Sure.” He smiled and held out his arm. You wrapped your arm around his and walked over to the stairs of the pool.

“Ah it’s…not cold. It’s actually the perfect temperature.” You realized after bracing yourself for the cold pool water.

“Of course he has a heated pool.” Peter grumbled and walked in. You swam over to a spot near some people but also a little isolated. The people behind you were making out and once you both noticed that, you blushed.

“Wow. They’re earning points already.” You chuckled.

“I know. I wonder who’s gonna win.”

“Us. Definitely.” You joked, making Peter laugh.

“Oh, for sure. I’m already making a list in my head of all the people I’m gonna kiss.” He played along.

“Oh yeah? Who’s at the top of the list?” You asked as you swam closer to Peter. Peter looked at your lips and then into your eyes before smiling shyly.

“The list is actually just your name written a hundred times in your handwriting.” Peter joked. You smiled in shock and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Really? Tell me more about that?” You asked. Peter gulped and wasn’t planning on telling you anything. Instead, he’d show you how he felt by finally kissing you.

But before that could happen, Brad Davis swam over and tapped your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/n. I didn’t see you come in.” He smiled.

“Oh, yeah. Peter and I just got here.” You smiled in disappointment and let go of Peter.

“Cool, cool. So, I’m sure Flash told you what kind of party this is.” Brad said, making Peters senses go off. Brad wanted a kiss and as the captain of your schools basketball team, he might get it.

“He sure did. Which is when Peter and I told him we aren’t playing.” You said through a fake laugh to dilute the uncomfortable situation.

“Oh, my bad. I came over here to kiss you but I didn’t realize you guys were dating.” Brad said apologetically. You and Peter exchanged a look and he gulped.

“We’re not dating.” Peter forced a laughed as well.

“Ohhh. Cool. So I can kiss you?” Brad asked and moved closer. Peter felt white hot jealousy in his veins and looked at you to see what you were gonna do.

“Like I said, not playing.” You laughed awkwardly and moved away from him.

“No sweat. Let me know if you change your mind.” Brad smiled at you and swam back to his friends. Peter blew out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and looked at you. You had your hands over your mouth and wide eyes.

“Oh my God. That was so awkward. I need to get out of here.” You whispered to Peter.

“Let’s go get some food.” Peter suggested. You agreed and got out of the pool together. Peter put a hand on your back and got a towel for you so you could cover yourself when you went inside.

“Uh oh, my Virgin alarm is going off.” Flash said when you and Peter walked into the kitchen where a group of your classmates were. Peter rolled his eyes as Flash walked towards the two of you with his hand flat like a metal detector.

“Beep, beep, beep. I found them. I found the virgins.” Flash gasped as he waved his hand over you and Peter.

“Knock it off, Flash.” Peter grumbled as his face flushed.

“I had to. You two are the only ones not playing.” Flash replied. Everyone looked at you and you suddenly felt insecure for not participating.

“Really? I thought you said other people weren’t playing.” You asked.

“They dipped.” Flash shrugged. “Everyone here is a part of the game. Expect for Chastity Mary and Pete the Prude over here.”

“I’ll play.” You blurted just to make everyone stop staring at you like you were a giant loser. Peter looked at you in confusion and you gave him a stressed look.

“Me too.” Peter nodded to back you up. You didn’t actually want to play, but the peer pressure had gotten to you. That and the fact that this little game might be the perfect excuse to get Peter to kiss you.

“Oh, shit. You’re really playing? In that case…” Flash closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss you with his lips puckered. You picked a strawberry off the table and shoved it in his mouth while Peter laughed.

“Guys, Neds here.” One of the boys in the kitchen gasped.

“NED! NED! NED! NED!” Everyone funneled out of the kitchen in a mob while cheering for Ned.

“Did you know Ned had a cult following?” You asked Peter.

“Kinda. He’s famous around here ever since he got them to reinstate all day breakfast in the dining hall.” Peter explained.

“That was him? Shit, I’d cheer for him too.”

“I should go say hi to him. If he had time for old friends, that is.” Peter joked.

“Y/n, over here!” One of the girls in your grade came over and took your arm. You gave Peter an apologetic look as she pulled you away.

“I’ll catch up with you later!” You told him before disappearing back outside with the girl.

It was almost an hour before you and Peter were reuniting. Now that you were in the competition, Peter could not relax. He was on high alert all night as he tried to spot you in the large crowd. He couldn’t enjoy the party because he was too busy fantasizing about the worst case scenario of you kissing all the popular boys and falling in love with one of them. After you’d been mingling in your respective friend groups for a while, you spotted each other on either side of the pools waterfall. You swam under the waterfall and stayed close to the wall so you were protected by the wall of water but not getting wet.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Peter smiled and swam to you.

“Have you?” You smiled in return and swam closer to him.

“I have. The boys started wrestling each other and I wanted to give it a go with you.” Peter joked. You laughed and swam even closer to him so that your chests were touching. A comfortable silence fell between you and the rest of the party fell away. You couldn’t really see or hear anyone outside of the waterfall so it felt like it was just the two of you.

“So have you kissed anyone yet?” Peter asked and held his breath.

“No. People keep asking me but I keep declining. I don’t think I’m winning tonight.” You clicked your tongue.

“Me either.” Peter laughed in relief.

“So you haven’t kissed anyone?”

“No. No one’s asked me.” He admitted.

“So kiss me.” You shrugged and held your breath for his response. Peter turned around and looked behind him but didn’t see anyone.

“Who are you talking to?” He asked you.

“You, you dingus.” You laughed. “I’m asking you.”

“You want to kiss me?” Peter asked in disbelief and pointed to himself. You nodded your head and Peter felt a panic rise in his chest.

“N-no.” Peter weakly stammered.

“No?” You asked as your eyebrows went up.

“Sorry. No, thank you. Is what I meant.” Peter corrected himself.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” You laughed awkwardly and swam back a little.

“Just because-“

“No, it’s totally cool.” You cut him off. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“I just-“

“I’m gonna go get a drink. See you later?” You smiled at him and quickly swam away. Peter was frozen under the waterfall as he processed what happened. Suddenly, Ned burst under the waterfall with urgency.

“Dude! What the hell was that?” He asked and swam to Peter.

“I panicked! I didn’t think she was gonna ask me that!” Peter whispered harshly.

“Why wouldn’t she? This is a kissing party!”

“Kissing parties aren’t real! That’s not a thing that exists. This is a made up concept. Think of the germs! You haven’t thought of the germs you bitch!” Peter exclaimed. Ned jutted in his back in surprise and Peter felt bad.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Ned whispered.

“Because I just blew my chances with Y/n and I’m angry!” Peter whispered back.

“Well why didn’t you kiss her?”

“Because.” Peter whined. “I don’t want our first kiss to be because of this gross game. I wanted it to be because we wanted it.”

“Dude, she hasn’t kissed a single person tonight. You’re the only one she asked.” Ned pointed out.

“Your tone makes me think you’re leading me to a profound conclusion.”

“Clearly she only agreed to play so she could kiss you. That’s why she’s been saying no to everyone else but asked you. She’s not playing the game. She just wanted to kiss you.” Ned said and smacked Peters chest.

“No. That would mean she likes me. And there’s no way she likes me.” Peter insisted.

“Then why would she agree to play this game if she was gonna say no to everyone but you?”

“Because she’s a silly goose? I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers, Ned. Maybe she was just being a silly little guy.”

“Dude, she’s likes you.” Ned groaned. “And she just shot her shot. And you shot her down.”

“That’s way too many shots.” Peter whispered in fear that Ned was right.

“You need to go smooch that girl before you lose her forever.” Ned told him.

“Oh God. Do you think that will happen? Do you think she’ll kiss somebody else?” Peter gulped and chewed his nails.

“Probably. If I’m right about her liking you, that means she just got rejected and is probably super hurt and embarrassed. She’ll be looking for someone to distract her and remind her that she’s desirable. Plus, I heard Brad and Flash are tied and Y/n is the only girl they haven’t kissed. If they get to her before you do, you’re done.”

“Oh God. I can’t let that happen.”

“You might be a little late for that. Turn around.” Ned looked guilty as he pointed over Peters shoulder. Peter turned to see you and Flash sitting on the edge of the pool together. You were laughing at something he was saying, making Peters stomach drop.

“Oh no! She can’t kiss Flash. I’ve never seen him apply chapstick once in his life. And he licked the back of the bus seat in fifth grade during a game of Truth or Dare so he’s definitely carrying some sort of disease.”

“I remember that. He picked truth and then randomly licked the seat top to bottom.” Ned recalled.

“She can’t kiss that mouth. He has cooties. He can’t give my beloved cooties.” Peter said as determination filled his body.

“You need to do that think football players do when they catch the ball that was thrown at a different player.” Ned told him.

“Interception?”

“No. That’s the show about sitting down your family member who has an addiction and sending them to rehab.” Ned waved his hand.

“That’s Intervention.”

“No, Intervention is the Tom Cruise movie where he goes to space and his daughter is Renesmee from Twilight.”

“For starters, I’m not really sure why you called her Renesmee “from Twilight” as if there is any other character in any other movie with that name, but you also just described the movie Intersteller. Which is with Matthew McConaughey, not Tom Cruise.” Peter corrected him.

“So what movie am I thinking of?” Ned wondered.

“Fuck if I know. I’ll be right back.” Peter said and swam over to you and Flash. He saw Flash starting to lean in and in a panic, grabbed a beach ball and threw it at him.

“Ow. What was that?” Flash looked around once the ball hit him in the head.

“Hey guys. What’s going on?” Peter smoothly slid into the convo.

“Hi, Peter.” You smiled shyly and then looked back at Flash.

“It was Inception.” Ned said suddenly as he joined Peters side. Peter face palmed and you just looked confused.

“What was Inception? What did that mean?” Flash asked in genuine confusion.

“The movie I was thinking of. Inception starring Leonardo DiCaprio. That’s what you have to do to Y/n.” Ned explained. He slowly turned and realized you were sitting right there on the pool edge and smiled sheepishly.

“Oh, hey Y/n. Lovely weather we’re having, no?” Ned asked.

“What about an inception?” You playfully narrowed your eyes at Peter.

“He means interception.” Peter mumbled in embarrassment.

“Intercept what?” You asked as you slipped into the pool to be closer to Peter.

“Your kiss with Flash.” Peter admitted as he looked into your eyes. His big brown eyes were full of guilt and you couldn’t stay mad even if you wanted to.

“Ew. You thought I was gonna kiss Flash?” You laughed. “Not after what he did to that bus seat in fifth grade. No offense, Flash.”

“Was it that bad? It tasted like dry Ramen.” Flash shrugged.

“Who eats dry Ramen?” Ned asked.

“People who question the status quo and reject the suffocating confines of the shell society puts us in.” Flash stated.

“What the fuck are you ever talking about?” You whispered to yourself.

“Who knows? Did I hear Y/n wanted to kiss little old me?” Flash batted his eyelashes and pretended to tuck hair behind his ear.

“No, you didn’t.” You told him.

“Wait, so you didn’t come over here to kiss Flash?” Peter asked you.

“Ew, no. Why would you ever think that?”

“Because you wanted to forget that I rejected you.” Peter said, making your eyes widen.

“You rejected Y/n?” Flash laughed in surprise. “That is an M.Night Shamelan level twist right there. That shocked me more than that one Black Mirror episode where it turns out he was a pedofile after I spent the whole episode feeling bad for him.”

“What are you talking about now?” You whined.

“I actually know what he’s talking about.” Peter admitted. “That episode was crazy.”

“Right? When the mom was like “Kids, Kenny? You were looking at kids?” I nearly threw my phone at my TV. On God. I was rooting for him. And best believe, that is the last time I will ever root for a white man.” Flash shook his head. Everyone in the pool was looking at you guys now and trying to peer into the conversation. There was an awkward silence and even more awkward eye contact before Flash spoke again.

“So why didn’t you want to kiss Y/n?” He asked Peter.

“I was kinda also wondering that.” You admitted and looked at Peter for answers.

“Can we talk somewhere else? In private?” Peter asked you quietly.

“You’re just gonna let me hear that much of the conversation and then leave at the end? Talk about edging.” Flash scoffed.

“Fine. He can hear. In fact, everyone should hear this.” Peter decided and got up on the pool steps.

“Hey, everyone. I have an announcement.” Peter said as he cupped his hands around his mouth.

“I like Y/n. As more than a friend.” He announced as he pointed to you. You smiled in delight while everyone else gave each other the side eye.

“No one gives a shit, Parker.” A boy shouted after a long moment of silence.

“Everybody knew that.” Another girl added.

“Do a flip!” Someone shouted.

“He thinks he’s the main character or something, I swear.” Someone else muttered.

“Oh. I thought that would get a bigger reaction.” Peter frowned and walked back down into the pool to go back to you.

“You like me?” You smiled softly.

“I do. A lot.” Peter admitted with the same soft smile.

“Then why didn’t you kiss me?”

“Because I didn’t want our first kiss to be apart of this stupid game.” Peter told you. “I also wanted to be wearing underwear the first time we kissed. I guess I’m picky.”

“I’m never wearing underwear. Ever. Even when I wear jeans.” Flash said, reminding you that he was there. You turned your entire body to look at him because of how shocked you were by that statement.

“Why not?” You asked him.

“It blocks the flow of my mojo.” He said and pointed to his crotch before moving his hand it and outward flow. You blinked a few times and then turned back to Peter.

“Peter, I only played the game because I wanted to kiss one person. You.” You told him.

“That’s why I started playing. But when you came up to me and asked me, I was so caught off guard that I panicked and said no.”

“Is your guard up now?” You asked him.

“Probably not. Peter could never afford a guard. Get it? Because he’s poor.” Flash said and then laughed at his own joke. Peter rolled his eyes before looking at you again.

“If you asked me again, I’d say yes.” He told you.

“I’m not gonna ask you again. But that’s good to know.” You smiled at him, making his smile drop.

“Y/n, over here.” A girl on the other side of the pool called.

“See you around.” You waved to Peter before swimming to the girl. Peter and Flash stood there in shock as the processed what had happened.

“Dude, that was brutal.” Flash said. “That was worse than the staph infection that hospitalized me after I licked that bus seat.”

“I can’t believe she didn’t ask me.” Peter whispered in disbelief. “And who the fuck keeps saying “Y/n, over here?””

“I can’t believe you rejected her, announced to the whole party that you liked her, and then she rejected you! That’s gold, man. You can’t make this stuff up. Anyways, later loser.” Flash hopped into the pool and started to swim away. He suddenly popped up in front of Peter, this time, with goggles on this time.

“Unless you wanted to play mermaids?” Flash asked him. Peter stared at him for a minute and then nodded.

“I do, actually. Yeah.”

“Amazing. My tail is blue. What’s yours?”

“Please let me be blue.” Peter whined. “I just got rejected by my best friend.”

“Fine. I’ll be orange.” Flash rolled his eyes.

Once the party had started to fizzle out, Peter got out of the pool and went over to where he had left his stuff. You walked over to him and he tensed up.

“Hey.” You said as you approached him.

“Oh, hi.” Peter said cautiously. He had no idea what you were here for after all of the bizarre interactions you had tonight.

“Towel?” You asked and offered him a fresh towel.

“Yeah, thanks.” He accepted it and eyed you skeptically before drying off.

“You should really try to ring your hair out. Chlorine might damage those curls.” You said and nodded towards Peters hair.

“Oh, thanks.” He said and rubbed his towel all over his head. When he was finished, he noticed you staring at him with a fond smile.

“What?” He wondered.

“You missed a spot. Here, let me help.” You said and took the towel. You rubbed it all over his head to dry his hair and then moved it to reveal his face. He was blushing, like always, but had a sad look in his eyes. You let the towel fall to around his neck and then pulled it to bring him closer so you could kiss him.

“Did you really think I was gonna kiss you for the first time with Flash Thompson sitting between us?” You asked once you pulled away.

“So that’s why you didn’t ask me again?” Peter smiled as he connected the dots.

“I’m like you. I wanted it to be special.” You shrugged.

“I think it would be even more special if it happened again.” He replied. You laughed and kissed him again, which he was ready for this time.

“So.” He said once you pulled away. “You still down for that ice cream date?”

“It’s a date.” You nodded and smiled.

“I know. I literally just said that.”

“Don’t ruin the moment, P.” You warned him.

“Fine.” He smiled. “Let’s go on our date.”

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@serendipitous-amor @tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl

@jackiehollanderr @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow

@unbelievableholland @flixndchill @sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever

@undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave​ ​ @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild

@canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @smilexcaptainx

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@marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey

[beaulesbian]

One Piece Live action season 1 + hints or similarities to future One Piece moments (specifically after East Blue saga) - part 1: episodes 1-3

This wasn't meant to be a comparison between the live action and the animanga, but more so seeing these added/modified scenes that differ from the manga, yet with some of the acting/writing includes clues and hints to different and future canon material, or even characterization that necessary doesn't fit East Blue yet, but fits well enough into later arcs.

Luffy not knowing his world directions both in Opla (ep 1) /// Skypiea arc, in anime ep 168. But it could be for honestly any other arc (Funny thing is, in Opla he rang the bell that unfortunately alerted Alvida's crew, and only when I was rewatching that scene it made me connect it with the great Luffy moment at the end of Skypiea.)

The matches that Zoro has on the Island of Sixis in Opla ep 1, possibly manufactured on Baldimore (?), with a name Beast of Baldimore. /// After Sabaody Archipelago Franky was sent to Baldimore by Kuma, finding Vegapunk's homeland and laboratory, and also developing more of his science projects, as well as causing funny incidents, such as the Burning Beast. (It has probably nothing to do with the matches, except for the 'tiger on fire' motif and the name of Baldimore, but the details of Opla are just so fun!)

Zoro's first meeting with Luffy in Opla episode 1 is really different but fun nonetheless, especially with wording of the line that he doesn't want to 'play pirates' with Luffy. It's such a great setup line for his development to truly be one of the very first to understand how much Luffy means everything he's doing /// Zoro in ep. 323 Post Enies Lobby arc, making sure both his crew and the audience know how seriously he takes being part of Luffy's crew and what it means for future arcs.

Opla ep 2, Luffy mentioning Shanks' way of thinking about fighting (or not fighting someone who's not worth it) /// ep. 146 Jaya arc, Luffy saying to Zoro not to fight Bellamy's crew, which was direct influence from Shanks not fighting the Mountain bandits in the first chapters of the manga. It's interesting that for both of these scenes both Zoro and Nami are there to hear this.

This is just a fun bit, but seeing Nami excited about having a bath was cute. Opla ep 3 /// anime ep. 326, just after they get Sunny and everyone was finding out what space there is for them.

Garp and Koby playing the game of Go, Opla ep 3 /// CP0 agents playing Go while discussing the outcome of Strawhats & Oden's crew's raid on Onigashima against Kaido. It seems like a game that maybe Marines play more/enjoy (?) & above, up to CP ranks.

Usopp 'retelling' a story about eating a dragon, Opla ep 3 /// Punk Hazard ep 580, Zoro killing the dragon and planning with Luffy what's the best way to cook and eat it. Lol. In next chapters Luffy was carrying a big chunk of it, seemingly ate a bit part of the dragon already.

This one is self explanatory. Zoro is so gone for Luffy in Opla it's insane. Every time I remember that I get emo. ep 3. /// One of the first really fond smiles that Zoro keeps smiling at Luffy, a mixture of proud and understanding how Luffy works. ep 63, but it's just so much better in the manga, just look at it. Smitten™ (ch. 104)

[patchiko]

Imagine Ak Jason that's been with his s/o for a long while and they're comfortable having sex and all and he makes them squirt. How's the man reacting? I gotta know!

I GOTCHU ANON I GOT YOUUUUUUUUUU🫡🫡

Ak!Jason Todd n’ Squirting ((NSFW, EXPLICIT/DETAILED))

reader has coochie but no gender terms used :p

unless doll is gendered to you

‘tis under the cut >:]

TOTALLY AN EGO BOOSTER 4 HIM !!

He likes knowing he’s fucking you good and how good hes doing so🤤🤤

and he totally didn’t google “how to squirt” to get this to happen

IM LAUGHISNF SO HARD—

—LISTEN HE KNOWS THERES GOTTA BE SOME SCIENCE BEHIND IT.

he skimmed like the first page of articles (he read every fuckin link.) before clicking off bc he felt kinda cringe and acted like nothing happened

HE DEF GOT ALL THAT SHIT MEMORIZED THOUGH.

but he’s also smart enough to that majority of it is communication and it doesn’t mean hes doing bad if you cant squirt

but he really wanted to make you squirt. *picture cut to him grabbing his chest while curled up in a ball on the floor*

JASON’S body was pressed onto yours almost fully, grinding his dick into your pussy. The wet coarse noises of your twos hips pressing into each other, and the lewd noises leaving your mouth filled the room. One of his hands intertwined with your own, the other rubbing at your clit. He placed a pillow under your ass so he could push your cock at all the right places. His pelvis grinding into your pussy, dick angled at your g-spot cushioning out your steady moans. Jasons face was buried between your neck softly breathing as he used his whole body to rhythmically pace himself against you. Taking in all of you, your soft sticky skin pressed against his own, every inhale and exhale of your chest, the way your hips randomly bucked up as he pushed against you. Those moans. He closed his eyes, letting his body passionately feel you out, running orgasm after orgasm out of you. You’re breathing sharpened and you threw your head back. You start grinding your wet pussy into him, letting your other hand trail up to his hair softly kneading his black hair locs. He involuntarily let off a deep “mmh…” He sped up his movements, rutting his hips a bit faster then yours. Jason just barely pulled out and pushed in, his cock still at your g-spot before grinding back down on your wet cunt. Stuttering your breaths, you let out a soft”Fuck,,, fuck,,, fuck….” before being able to whine out how you wanted his hand, playing with your clit to move faster. He started rubbing fast circular motions across your cunt, obscene noises of your soaking cunt got louder. He started pumping his cock against your g-spot, letting go of your hand to prop your legs up for him before intertwining your fingers once more. He pulled his face from your neck to watch your cunt come undone, letting out heavy breaths along your chest. Your mind had started going foggy, only being able to feel his body against yours and the sticky sensation between your legs, you inhaled and before a sudden hit of tranquil hit your body. Exhaling, your hips relaxing as you felt the heat of a intense orgasm hit you. Jason watched as squirts of hot liquid sloppily bounced against his happy trail. He had no problem physically staying quiet but mentally he was holding on by a thread. Continuously fucking you through your pleasure, before slowing down and looking back up at your relaxed body.

“You got another one of those in you doll?” he said through hot breaths peering up at you with those big pretty blown out blue eyes.

oh yeah, that egos peaking tonight.

This was fun writign hejshehhdhehee

COULDNT HELP MYSELF I KNOW HES GOOGLED IT BEFORE!! I KNOW ITTT!! *IM BEING DRAGGED OUT OF THE ROOM WHILE YELLING*

ILL DIE ON THIS HILL JASON WOULDNT BE DIRTY TALKER TILL LATER IN THE RELATIONSHIP!! (m gonna make a list of shit he’d say dw yall dw..)

he so proud of himself though

inbox is open if yall want more !!

[lushrue]

141 + könig & graves as college professors (fem!reader) nsfw, mdni

cw: p-in-v sex, creampie, semi-public sex, power imbalance/unethical relationship, age gap (everyone's legal), oral (f!receiving), bondage, oral (m!receiving)

price teaches military strategy, a more theoretical and scientific look at war and battle tactics. he’s done the field work, he knows what it takes to physically carry out a mission. but he values the skill behind the planning a bit more than the execution. would definitely give real-world examples with missions he’s carried out with as much detail as he can provide. has classes outside some days. he tells his students it’s because the weather’s nice, but he really just wants to smoke.

he’s one to stare when you show up to class in a short skirt or low-cut top. he’s not shy about it, but he’s tactful, not letting his gaze settle for too long. won’t fuck you in his office, too nervous his colleagues would hear. so he comes to your dorm room sometimes when your roommate’s out, or he’ll take you to a hotel and treat you nice with room service and the whole deal. absolutely obsessed with the way his cum drips down your thighs, takes some pictures to jerk off to later.

ghost maybe teaches something like warfare tactics. something that would only be taught at a military college, something hands-on. he takes his job educating the next generation of soldiers seriously. insists that his course have both a lecture and lab section. he’s getting his students up at the ass-crack of dawn to run drills, even if they’re not currently serving. they wanted to know how to win a war, so he’ll show them.

kinda hard to convince, tbh. he’s fine pushing the bounds when it comes to rules of engagement, but this? still, when you prove yourself, when you beat out everyone else on the obstacle course, he jumps at the chance for some extra tutoring sessions with you. the fact that you look good in a sports bra and leggings is just a bonus. he’ll definitely fuck you in the gym bathroom after a training session. he’ll drag you into a stall and lock the door, hold you up if your legs are too tired from the workout he put you through.

soap teaches something not military-related, i think. maybe chemistry or physics with his demolitions background? very into demonstrations in his classes, likes to make shit blow up or fly across the room for the wow factor. he’s set the fire alarms off in the science lab more than once. definitely has a high score on rate my professor, one of the most sought after in the whole physical science department.

fucks you in the science lab. you’d come to him during office hours, cause the subjects he teaches have a really low pass rate. it’d start with actual homework help before devolving into heavy petting and kisses as a reward for correct answers. he’ll test your concentration, making you recite newton’s laws or the ratio of reactant to product. when you fumble, he’ll just chuckle and mumble something about how your head is too fuzzy for science. not too fuzzy for him to bully his cock into you, though.

gaz teaches something intro level. we’re talking “intro to military studies” or “intro to war and peace”. he’s really lenient on due dates, doesn’t have the really strict attitude that a lot of intro level professors have. he’s chill, one of those professors that does everything he can to work with you. won’t suffer a slacker, though. if you don’t do the work, don’t expect him to round your grade up at the end of the semester.

he won’t fuck you while you’re still enrolled in one of his classes. he knows himself, the temptation would be too strong if he had to see you for 55 minutes three times a week and couldn’t touch you. so he waits until the semester is over. but best believe he’s dragging you into some secluded corner of the building the minute you hand in your final. tells you about every single time he’s wanted to touch you, every time you’ve almost made him break his own rule. he makes it up to you, though, eating you out in the hallway and making you come on his tongue twice.

könig teaches german. falling a bit into the stereotype here, but i feel like this man has a really strong love of country. he’d definitely teach the culture alongside the language. he probably has an oktoberfest celebration for his students, lets the older ones drink beer if they want. he tells stories all the time about growing up in austria and will get sidetracked for a whole class just talking about life.

when he’s trying to seduce you, he’s a gentle giant. always cooing praises at you about how pretty you are, how well you’re taking to the language, that you’re a natural. but the moment you give in, he lets himself indulge. everything he’s ever wanted to act out, he does with you. if he’s stroked his thick cock to someone else doing it on his computer screen, he wants to try. it’s how you find yourself tied up in his bed, silk rope wrapped around your body as he fucks your throat. always dirty talks to you in german, giving you praise when you figure out what he’s saying.

graves teaches something niche, a class on terrorism in America or something like that. he gets really into it too. he’s known for being really animated in his lectures, gets really loud sometimes. other professors hate having a class in the lecture hall next to his. appreciates the students who stay after class to talk to him more in depth about his lectures. he knows the material can be dull sometimes, but he always has a few that are really passionate about what he teaches.

you’re one of those few. he’s embarrassed to admit that he falls for you, the way your eyes sparkle when he starts talking about some fringe terror group he helped to squash when he was serving. you always give him your rapt attention and he eats it up. takes you on dates to nice restaurants a few towns over so you won’t run into anyone either of you know. likes to fuck you over his desk after office hours are over. once, he shoved his boxers in your mouth and fucked you in the middle of the afternoon, when anyone could walk in. that time was your favorite.

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [5]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 9.4k

So I edited chapter 3 where Yoongi told Reader to wait till next year for their contract renewal because from the discourse on twt yesterday, they renewed their contract October later in 2018 (which is the year this is taking place).

Gonna stop yapping so here's a 9.4k chapter with a lot of explaining, i hope it all makes sense oh lord this chap is not beta read AT ALL. ALSO WTF IS WITH THE TAGS THEY'RE NOT WORKINGGGGGG

thank you all for your comments and likes, it keeps me going :DD

<<<Prev || MASTERLIST || Next>>>

_____

Namjoon was a man of science.

He believes in everything that can be explained in a lengthy and intricately detailed book filled with an even more difficult terminologies and worded examinations backed up by photographic evidence to prove it. 

To him, if he didn't see it happen before his very eyes, it was fiction, a lie.

It's how it should be.

As a child, he frowned upon the heretics and the desperate, thanking a nonexistent god for the fruit of their hard work. He couldn’t fathom how they could weep so genuinely as they prayed on their knees for blessings that never come, and if gods were real, he could never understand how devoted they are for someone who turned a blind eye to the challenges they faced.

He never understood how the lonely could resort to immorality in their desperation for a soulmate, couldn't fathom how easily they shed their humanity for a morsel, a hint of that sense of belonging and importance being a tethered gave.

It was dumb.

Life doesn't revolve around soulmates, they should've tried other options instead of blaming the theoretical nirvana for their own misfortune.

Despite being a child born from two mates, he never believed in the concepts of soulmates, thinking it childish as it was an idea the lonely and the hopeless hung onto to feel better for themselves. He believed that his parents would have met either way without their soulmarks, would've fallen in love the same and bring him to life. 

Because they were meant to be, even without the marks to prove it.

Sure he wished to eventually settle down with someone who also loved him as his mother does with his father but he doesn't believe in the spiritual connection.

But science has nothing on the sensation he was feeling right now.

The moment the clock struck midnight, a heartbeat suddenly began to drum at the back of his head, but it was faint and muffled as if it was distant and came through multiple walls but he could hear its panicked pace echoing in his skull. In the silence you and Jungkook’s departure has left, Namjoon began to feel dread bubbling inside him. A tension slowly building up with the beat of the racing heart at the back of his head.

It felt like those slowly crescending notes of a horror movie's background music as the killer stalks nearer. There's a tension thickening but he's the only one who could feel it, could sense it coming.

It's making him nervous beyond belief how he doesn't know what is afoot.

A gasp tore through his thought process and he looked up to see his Yoongi hyung eyeing something invisible in his right hand, disbelief apparent in his wide eyes as the others turned to him with concerned curiosity.

But Namjoon already knew what it was, at least felt like he knew what it is, although he himself is incredulous.

He's read up everything that he could about soulmates in his teenage years wanting to refute his parents' insistence on how they wouldn't have clicked as well as they are without the soulmark yet none of them could explain how he just knows the heartbeat at the back of his head belonged to you.

________

Fate truly has a funny way of revealing who your soulmate is.

It was said that the sensation when you first meet your soulmate should be a wave of cold relief flushing all the worries out of your system. Your mother and Jihae told you stories of the sudden sense of belonging, like finding the last piece of the puzzle from a mere accidental brush of a hand with a stranger on the streets.

If it was in any other scenario, you would've agreed with them.

But as Jungkook raises both your hands to survey the skin for any mark, your world shrinks down like an air tight ziplock bag to only fit you and him. A low thrum resonated in the air, mellifluous and sweet, a direct contrast to the dull but racing heartbeat at the back of your head. Jolts of electricity vibrated under your skin starting from your joined hands and spreading across your muscles and lighting your nerve endings awake.

The walls around you closed in, not because it was Jungkook who you happened to be fated to. But because there's a thin, red thread tied around your pinkie.

A red string of fate.

And it's not tethered to Jungkook.

It goes behind you and you dread to know who it leads to.

There's a curious tug from down the line, the thread turning tangible at every pull and the urge to run away, to hide in the comforts of your home grew tenfold. Because you're sure the string leads to one of the boys.

People who became your closest companions after years of being their make-up artist. Half of which you've rejected before and four of them you've remained friends with. 

Isn't this a bit too much of a joke?

How funny it must've been for the divinities to watch you reject the men eventually revealed to be your soulmate. They must've cackled, pointing fingers and all, as they watched you reject them. You wouldn’t put it behind them to connect the end of your string to someone you’ve also turned down.

You watched Jungkook speedrun through the five stages of grief in a few seconds, face contorting every so often it made it hard to get a read on what he's feeling. He let out a shaky exhale as he came to, doe eyes meeting yours with an incredulous sheen. 

His continuous silence stuffed cottons into your throat, the conflicted expression he has settled on only furthering the panic in your chest. 

You retract your hand but he was faster, catching your wrist in a tighter grip. There's a question hanging from his lips but they cease to exist the moment you both see the mark on your finger.

In the space between your index and middle finger lies a black quarter note, inked into the skin of your middle. The tint bold and black. 

Raising his own hand, your eyes landed on the same pattern etched on his on the opposite side. As if hypnotized, he intertwined his fingers and the same gentle thrum came back, along with a comforting warmth echoing from your soulmate mark and spreading throughout your body, almost rendering you boneless from how intense yet easily it relieved you of the stress on your body.

You weren't the only one affected by its calming properties. The frustration and anger in Jungkook's from earlier now erased from his face, as if it was never there. Acceptance.

Just like that, the problem is solved; and that unsettles you.

“Noona… Wh-what is happening?”

His voice is so small, shaky and hopeful . Eyes growing larger as he surveys your soulmate marks with a joyful disbelief. He untangled your hand and pulled the soulmark closer to his eye. Curiously, Jungkook hesitantly taps the musical note and shivered with you when skin touched skin.

You both suck in a deep breath, freezing at the foreign sensation it brought you both before a smile that stretches high up to the heavens brightens his face.

Jungkook's eyes were glazed with unshed tears when you found them once more, breath shaky as he placed a kiss onto your knuckles. The sensation of his lips on your skin sending jolts down your spine.

“Noona, we're soulmates.”

You didn't even hear the sound of footsteps running up the stairs nor Taehyung calling you both until he got close, hand landing on your shoulder and effectively snapping you out of your trance.

“Are you guys okay? Not too long ago you were at each other's throat and now—woah!”

A shrill of pleasure shocks your body, vision flashing white and you fall. If it wasn't for Jungkook, you would've collapsed boneless next to Taehyung who's gasping on the floor, hand clutching his heart as he heaved. Jungkook let you lean your body weight on him once you stood up again. Arms wrapping around your waist protectively as your brain catches up.

A sharp gasp from Jungkook kick starts your already racing heart, panic flushing out whatever has happened earlier.

But that wasn't the thing that made your head pulse.

It was the shaky utterance of your name and looking up at Jungkook only to be distracted by the faint glow of blue in the shape of a hand on your shoulder. The spot where Taehyung had last touched you.

In the dimness of the hallway, it gleamed a soft shade of purple like a splatter of glow in the dark paint. Your head snapped back to Taehyung who had pushed himself to sit up, cradling his head while murmuring intelligible under his breath until he looked up and his jaw fell .

“I-Is that…?”

“Hyung, what is the meaning of this?”

Taehyung turned to the maknae, spluttering. “I-I don't even… Ho-how is this even possible?”

How is it possible to feel like the world has pulled a carpet from under you while also feeling like you're laying on cloud 9?

Three soulmates.

Two of them being people you once rejected, one of them unknown but the string suspiciously led downstairs where the rest of the boys are.

You feel like passing out just to avoid the talk it'll entail. Maybe you should run at the wall and hope you'll hit your head hard enough to guarantee amnesia.

“Noona, you're seeing this too right?” 

Taehyung is now standing in front of you, bewilderment still dancing in his eyes as he traced the already fading handprint and a small line of purple followed. He grinned and it's probably the happiest one you've ever seen him wear, eyes misty and overflowing with joy as he giggled, the sound almost reminiscent of an excited child.

Jungkook’s arm tightened around you.

“Wh-why do you have paint on noona’s shoulder? Hyung?” Jungkook’s voice shakes from the weight of the revelation hanging above his head. “Are we sharing noona?”

“GUYS! YOONGI HYUNG GOT A SOULMATE!”

Holy shit.

Unlike you who's despairing to see the man on the other side of the thread, Taehyung was beyond ecstatic.

“No fucking way. I gotta see this.”

Taehyung dragged you to the stairs when your legs refused to move, uprooting you from where you leaned onto Jungkook's side. Your stomach churned at how lighter the strings felt in your pinkie and a tad tighter as the distance shortened.

There's a sudden heartbeat racing in your ears but it sounds far away and it doesn't sync with the pulse you feel in your temples. You couldn't dwell on it for long before you're faced with the man at the other end of the line.

They said it all started with their eldest but unbeknownst to them, he was the first to notice how your eyes would light up as if it held the entire galaxy, how you’d laugh and he thought it sounded like the sweetest jingles of wedding bells to his ears. 

Seokjin might be their eldest but he was the beginning of it all.

In his twenty five years of existence on this damned planet, Min Yoongi has never asked for much, content with whatever life throws at him.

Even with his harsh upbringing, he never kept what he has from others, especially since he met his brothers. He'd willingly ripped off the cloth from his back to keep them warm and plugged their ears with both his hands so they couldn’t hear the hateful words thrown at them at debut, even if it cost of being exposed to them instead. But he couldn't care less, Yoongi loves them with all his heart.

There's nothing in the world that could ever stop him from bending over backwards just so the others could live peacefully.

When his pockets grew heavier with age, this trait only bloomed further into millions donated anonymously to hospitals and charities he could stumble upon. 

To everyone, especially his brothers, he’s a generous man.

Until you strode into his life and haunted him in his waking days with the ghost of your touch caressing his face.

Min Yoongi never wants yet he yearned, he craved to feel the softness of your skin under his fingertips, to taste your lips and discover if you tasted as sweet as you smell, to run his hand through your hair as to know if it's as soft as it looked under the soft glow of the room. 

And for once in his life, he wanted to be selfish.

Being with you makes him want to believe, want to hope that something nonsensical as the concept of soulmates is true.

Min Yoongi wasn’t a believer of such optimism because his mother wasn’t. She passed down her resentment for the fates for turning a blind eye on her onto her next of kin. She was bitter from being untethered and barred her children from subjecting themselves to whimsical thoughts of fates and destinies. But now that you’ve come and bursted through the iron doors of his heart, he started to wonder if the divine had purposely tripped you in front of the BigHit building to be discovered by their oldest make-up noona and lead you to them.

He knew they did, could feel it within him. 

There was something different about you on the first day you've both met, something that he couldn't find in others and his mind answered almost immediately.

Soulmate.

You who shined even without the help of others, who stood out like the beacon of light in the shady pits of this world, he couldn’t dare face you as someone whose future is as dim as the blasted world he cursed out. With nothing to offer, he strived to be the best, to crawl to the top whatever it takes.

He couldn't show you a pathetic side of him, couldn't step forward with a bleak future to offer. Yoongi wouldn't be able to bear it if you were to grow miserable beside him.

Because for you, he'd stop at nothing to hand everything you'd ever lay your eyes on wrapped in a pretty bow of the most expensive quality and tucked neatly behind soft colored gift wrappers.

For years, Min Yoongi hid.

What else could he do when most of his brothers also vied for your attention? He loved you all with all his heart, couldn't bear the thought of ever hurting any of you for his selfish desires. So he did what he thought was best, step back and watch from the sidelines.

And he was fine with that.

He thinks himself a patient man. A trait forged by years of encountering nagging customers and demanding adults from working as a delivery boy. Yet all it took was a couple dozen bottles of Soju and a warm atmosphere to accidentally confess his feelings for you. Ashamed and already knowing what his hyung has received as an answer, he puts on a mask the next day and acts.

He did it so well you were convinced he wasn't kidding by forgetting last night's mistakes and swallowing up the disappointment when you didn’t bother asking him again and acted like nothing ever happened.

But it's okay, Min Yoongi is a patient man, he can wait.

So when you appeared before him, a red string tied prettily around your pinkie with the thread leading back to his own, he was beyond euphoric .

He felt like he could climb the highest summit bare in record speed with no equipment and only the warmth of the new bond.

The moment you all appeared in the living room with your shoulder and linked hands glowing purple, all hell broke loose. You didn't even get to look at Yoongi’s reaction when everyone was exploding around you, running to look at the evidence of your connection to Taehyung up close.

“Holy shit!”

“What the fuck?!”

“You guys are connected?!”

“What the fuck is happening right now?!”

Taehyung, despite being the second guy discovering himself as your soulmate, kept a smug smile hovered protectively behind you, hands planted on your shoulders and pushing his hyungs a few steps away to keep them from overwhelming you.

Everyone surrounding you had varying reactions even then, Namjoon kept his distance but hovered over behind his brothers with his eyebrows furrowed, staring with his calculating gaze and the heartbeat echoing at the back of your head grow rampant. 

You didn’t dare look at Seokjin, whose gaze weighed heavily with hurt and disappointment, penetrated through your skin, especially when you heard him run upstairs, and the door of his room slams shut.

He who had confessed first, had continued to love you even when you had thought he had moved on, somehow didn’t make the cut. Another cruel joke the fates have played.

It was Jimin who snapped you out of the trance when he grazed the side of your neck and flinched back when swirls of gold erupted from the spot he ghosted over before both your knees buckled. The gleaming gold ink spinning a pretty vine-like twirl before sinking back into your skin.

If the room was loud earlier, it has erupted into a mass hysteria now.

Because four out of your seven bosses turn out to be tethered to you. Three who you had rejected before and one who has never shown any romantic interest in you.

How funny was it for the universe to link you to the same men you've rejected for the fear of ruining the amazing brotherhood they've built from years of hard work and tears?

The sensation of two cascading waves of calmness from the bonds trying to soothe the ever growing dread clashed against each other made your stomach churn. Your headache has evolved into a pulsing one before you felt a tug on the string. From the revelation to the onslaught of feelings attacking and fighting off your initial panic, your body struggled to keep up with its conflicting emotions.

You wanted to run, to hide from their gaze, to put an end to the conflicted mess of emotions being forced into you and surfacing along with your thoughts.

Jimin has refrained from touching you since earlier, his beautiful face now contorted into concern, his soft eyes seeing past the fog in yours while the world continues around you. He stares at you as if trying to decipher something, as if he could somehow feel how overwhelmed you are.

He opened his mouth to say something, his hands already reaching to pull Taehyung and Jungkook away from you when a voice broke through the chatter.

“You're crowding her too much!”

Namjoon’s hands were steadying when he held your shoulders, like water in a desert, like the light at the end of a dark tunnel. With their leader stepping in, all words fell into a hush and for the first time since the chaos, it was silent; save for the slowing rhythms of two heartbeats thudding in your head.

If Taehyung and Jungkook's touch felt like a jolt of energy and Jimin was rejuvenating and healing, Namjoon had the ability to kill the noise in your mind with eye contact alone.

Peering deeper into his gaze, your breath stutters because the knowing glint within them has confirmed another thought of yours. Shared heartbeats . Suddenly the other beat in your head sounded clearer, more present along with your thoughts.

A fifth soulmate.

What the fuck.

“Hyung, are you sober enough to drive?”

Hoseok turns to him, face turning serious as he glances at you once more before nodding. 

“I’ll get her home, I didn't drink much anyways.”

It felt burdensome to leave such a life-altering problem for them to handle while you cower in their spare bedroom, trying to hide from the reality that you might be linked to all seven of them. 

The reassuring squeeze on your shoulders brought you back from the guilty trans you’ve submerged into and was faced with Namjoon's kind eyes and smile.

“Go home noona, we'll handle it from here.”

“You sure?”

He nods. “I know this is overwhelming so I want you to go rest and let me do the planning and talking, alright?”

When you didn’t respond, Namjoon wrapped his arms around you. There’s hesitance in how his movement stuttered, could hear him ponder as he pulled you flush to his chest, afraid of affecting you like the maknaes had but when his touch didn’t evoke the staggering flood of euphoria, he grew more sure of his movements.

With a kiss on your head, he unwraps himself from you and gently guides you back to Hoseok who’s now standing outside the open door of their dorm. His eyes were glued onto you, following your form as you near him but somehow, it felt like he was staring past through you and into the void.

Walking to the car was a silent affair and you don’t know if you rather have Hoseok being quiet or not.

It was bearable when he turned on the radio and a song that has no connection to the boys plays, not that it ever stopped the thoughts constantly spawning from the crevices of your mind.

When you had asked the fates for a soulmate, had you sounded so desperate that they'd given you five?

You’ve heard of three souls connected, hell, Yeonjun is a part of a five-way soulmate link; Interlinked, is what they’re called. Everyone in the group has their own unique mark with each member which usually led to constant overstimulation in the beginning, which made the company put them on medications until their bond settles a year later.

Even today, there are times where they still get affected by their bonds, although not as often as it used to. It was a wonder how there haven't been investigations put on BigHit with how often the five had to be sent to the hospital for soulbond hyperactivity at least once a week for a whole year.

But a nexus between six people, five connected to one. That is unheard of, the rarest even.

Five soulmates yet none of those were Seokjin. Someone who had stuck with you since the first day, the first to confess, and the one who remained loyal, wasn’t tethered to you.

“Hoba?’

“Yes, noona?” 

He sounded guarded, his face ironed into a neutral, more serious expression as he slowed as the traffic light went red.

“What’s gonna happen now?”

He bit his lower lip as he pondered, thumbs tapping incessantly on the wheel before he spoke.

“We're gonna have to update your statuses in the DFR, but I doubt the company will make it public just yet. There's nothing also in our contract that prohibits us from pursuing a relationship with our soulmates if we ever come across them so you're good on that front.”

You notice how he excluded himself from the Nexus bond and you feel a pinch on your heart at how formal he has become, as if he’s already put up a wall between you both.

“We'll probably have a long talk about it once I get back but I doubt they'd wait that long for me. You’re probably wouldn't be allowed to touch Jimin and Taehyung anymore when you're working because your soulmarks are very obvious and I know you don't want—”

“Y-You don't think you're also…”

Silence followed as he adjusted himself in his seat as the car began to move again, his hands drumming on the wheel halts as the facade he's wearing shattered for a moment and his eyes grew foggy, clouded by a deep shade of blue.

Under the passing warm lights of the streetlights overhead, Hoseok has never looked more devastated to you than he does now.

You had never noticed it, he has always been open with his affections to his friends so you never thought of it as anything but his usual touchiness. He shows his care for you in the same way he does with his brothers, so paid it no need and brushed it off.

How could Soobin notice it? What had he seen that you missed?

“If I was, I would've felt something different but here we are.” He forces out a laugh before glancing at you and offering a hand. You notice how his smile doesn’t seem to reach his eyes. “We're still the bestest of friends even without the mark, right?”

Hesitantly, you took it.

The moment your fingers wrapped around his Hoseok immediately takes his hand back in favor of holding the brake between you both.

You try to not let his aversion to touch affect you. It was understandable why he isn’t touching you as he always had. New soulbonds are fickle, there’s been multiple reports where people are rushed into ER after brushing their hands against strangers and had been in excruciating pain from soulbond strain.

Their new bodies had thought they were denying destiny and had punished them. It was ridiculous.

But for him to completely retreat to himself, visibly putting up a tall wall between you both is a different kind of pain. For Hoseok, someone who has never had to restrain himself from holding your hands or hugging you whenever he's excited, to step back hurts you more than you thought it would.

“Noona, we’re here.”

As you left the car, you pondered on what to say to him. What could you even tell him?

Do you even say you're sorry he's not one of your soulmates or would that sound mocking?

Should you say that you had wished once that he becomes tethered to you or would that be rubbing salt on the wound?

But before you could even turn around and say your goodbyes, the moment the door was closed, Hoseok drove off. 

Waking up was dreadful.

It felt more exhausting and daring than it had yesterday when you were going to your third date with Guwon. Sleeping was difficult, you could feel Yoongi touch the string from miles away, eyes flying open whenever you felt the thread become tangible and gently glow in the darkness of your room.

It wasn't his soul-link alone that disturbed you, Namjoon’s heartbeat constantly changed rhythm although it was faint enough to blend into the background with the rumble of the air conditioner. From the nervous gallops to the calmer but deeper thuds whenever he seems to drown himself in his own thoughts.

You had research about your soul links when you grew restless in your bed, obsessed over the fact there's little to no information on your and Jimin's mark, trying to ignore the concerned messages from your mother and sister. They were asking about Guwon and why you decided to end things. You know that you should explain, you at least owe your mother the reason why you had decided to stop seeing the lawyer but you couldn't.

After weeks of her constant questioning and spamming links of wedding organizers and dressmakers, you couldn't find the courage to face your mother.

Not that it matters anymore though, not after last night.

Would you send her to an early grave once you tell her the news? How do you even break the news to your parents? Hi mom, I'm sorry I've been ignoring you yesterday. Yes, I stopped seeing Guwon but hey, I found you five new son-in-laws and they happen to be the members of the world's biggest boyband so don't be mad yeah?

She might just make true to her threat of hanging you upside down on a sack on your porch back in the province.

The same thought had led you to realizing how close you were to being engaged with Guwon in Jeju only to find out the next day who your soulmates were. 

When you trudged to the bathroom, exhaustion clung and weighed your bones but you excused it to your shitty sleep.

Not once has any of the boys reached out to you the whole night, the silence from Seokjin carving a hollowness in your chest. You know that they're busy handling the grunt and paperworks due today but to have not a single text in the groupchat made dread crawl up within you.

So when the door rang a quarter to nine, you jumped.

The door opens and Namjoon steps into your living room with Seokjin following closely behind him, expression guarded and eyes averted while the former approaches you. Both their eyes are swollen, no doubt from a sleepless night except Seokjin's looks far puffier than the other.

“Hi noona,” Namjoon began, voice soft as ever as he approached you to wrap his arms around you and you let him. “Hyung’s here with me to drive you to the DFR, the others went first since we decided that it's better if you're not lumped up with all your soulmates in one small space so it's just us three today.”

“Have you eaten?” Seokjin says, unmoving from where he stands a step away from the door, guarded and stiff, as if trying to meld himself into the wood.

His voice is hoarse and he looked more worn than you've ever seen him yet he managed to sound soft and put on the smallest of smiles. Your heart twinges.

“I haven't, you guys didn't tell me when we were going to have the bond registered.”

Namjoon sheepishly scratches the back of his head. “Sorry about that. We got busy discussing how we'll be moving forward, the company has already cleared out the office and as Hobi-hyung might've told you, they're doing everything they can to keep this under wraps for now.”

“There’s unfortunately no time for take-outs due to the time crunch, I doubt you guys will be out by twelve but I think we can all go for a good, filling lunch.”

“Jinnie, are you okay?”

The words slipped out of your lips before you could realize it had. His eyes widened for a fracture, taken aback before a sad smile stretched his lips.

“I will be, don't worry.”

Namjoon claps his hands abruptly, cutting through the air as he forces out a grin. “Alright, let's be on our way.”

“What about the family dinners?” You pushed on.

“We'll tell them the truth. I can't exactly bring you to family dinners as my fake girlfriend anymore now, can I?”

What started as Jin needing your help in stopping vulture-like aunties trying to introduce their daughters to him, grew far more serious when Mrs. Kim began to invite you annually to their family reunion dinners and had begun sending you the occasional gift boxes from her trips abroad. You tried giving them to Jin when the first box came but he insisted you keep them anyway. It made you feel guilty for tricking his family, especially his mother, but Jin needed your help in warding off the bad energy .

“We told hyung that once the bond gets stable next year, you can continue attending them.” Namjoon adds.

“Obviously I denied, what a stupid idea.” Seokjin immediately responds with a scoff and Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Why are you even paired with them when they disregard your safety like this? Really, why would you guys even suggest that?”

Namjoon turns to him with a look that seems to ask ‘do you really want me to answer that?’ and Seokjin pursed his lips in a straight line. You laughed.

It was a relief to see that nothing has changed within their dynamics. You had feared the day everyone would turn against each other because of you. It had made you wary of how much time you spend with a member one on one, scared the others would think of it as picking favorites. 

To see Seokjin, the one you have no doubt been more devastated than Hoseok, be making light hearted jokes about the soulmarks lifted off a huge weight from your shoulders.

“I hope auntie won't take it to heart. You were a nice boyfriend but you kept nagging me to pay a nonsense debt.”

“You still have a balance to settle with me, don't forget that,” He jokes. “But seriously, mom would be sad, she likes you better than me.”

Namjoon's phone pings, the sound silencing you both. With a hissed apology, he turned his attention to the device and read the notification on his lock screen before turning to you.

“We need to get going soon. Hobi hyung said Yoongi hyung and Jimin just got called up.”

“Wait, I haven't showered yet! You guys didn't even warn me!”

But as you move to run back to your room, Namjoon stops you with a hand on your shoulder.

“It's fine, noona.”

“It's not like we haven't seen you with unwashed hair for two days straight.”

“Hey that was one time!” You exclaimed, indignant.

“What was the longest day, hyung?” Namjoon clicks his fingers, a small teasing grin tugging his lips.

“Three days I think?”

“I thought it was a week?”

“So that's why she looked so greasy.” 

Their laughter when you slapped both their arms twinkled in your ears. The sound warming your chest but also grating your gears at the same time. 

Fresher than you had been earlier, you all arrive at the DFA an hour later. Spending thirty preparing, another half traveling to the heart of Seoul.

There's already a few bodyguards dressed in civilian wear lingering outside the office. Mr. Lee approached the car once the three of you began to step out before ushering all of you inside the building with a few other guards.

Save for the receptionists on the other side of the counter placed in the dead middle of the room, the lobby was empty. Sejin comes out from the wide open arch on the right, a man dressed in neatly ironed and a tailored black suit following behind him. 

“Let's all move to where the rest are. We couldn't rent the building for the whole day so they’ll be opening to the general public soon but we were allowed to have one floor to ourselves.”

None of you objects and followed him to the elevator and to the second floor where you were immediately greeted by Taehyung, Hoseok and Jungkook sitting on the blue plastic seats clustered by both sides of the walls.

When the metal doors parts open, their heads turn and immediately, Taehyung stands and runs up to you with arms wide.

Namjoon and Seokjin weren't able to react fast enough. The moment Taehyung wrapped himself around you, a powerful wave of bliss crashed over you and your legs gave out. They all screamed your name as you fell but they were muffled, hands grabbed onto whatever they could in the haste of catching you.

In the bleariness of your vision, you could make out Taehyung narrowly avoiding crumpling onto the floor when someone caught him by the waist.

“...That was so stupid of you…”

“...Why…Taehyung?...”

“Noona?”

The haze clears and you find yourself being carried by Seokjin into the nearest doctor’s office. You hear the door open before Yoongi’s exasperated but concerned voice follows.

“What the hell happened now?”

“Taehyung forgot they're soulmates and hugged her.”

“Fuckin—Just get her inside.”

“Noona, I’m so sorry!”

Seokjin lets you down on a soft cushioned armchair and you find yourself staring back at a bespectacled woman with hair so straight you wonder how Yoongi didn't feel exorcized at the sight of it.

She didn't waste any time and she rose from her seat to inject something in your arm. 

“What a wild introduction this is. First you come in with five soulmates, a Nexus group and one of them having Healing Touch, and as if that's not intriguing enough, you faint after a touch from Love Prints! So, very interesting!”

She returns to her seat as the haze ebbs away from your vision with the glowing purple paint on your torso.

“I guess it's true that all soul specialists are… enthusiastic .”

“Only on the right things, don't worry we don't bite.”

There's almost a manic look in her eyes as she stares at you with a fascination only seen in a mad geologist who had found a new and infinitely curious piece of history in the dirt. Seokjin pats your shoulders, squeezing it assuringly for the last time before he disappears out the door.

“So, how's this gonna go?”

Doctor Gwak Jihye was a woman with flat light brown hair almost the same height as you. There's narrow rectangle glasses sitting neatly on the bridge of her nose and a notable beauty mark placed on the apple of her right cheekbones. Black vine-like tattoos peaked out of her cream turtleneck, a soulmark you guessed once you saw the ring on her finger.

The band is as dark as the night yet gleaned like stars under the bright light of the room with three deep blue sapphires engraved on the front. A ring made from soul metal created and only used by the tethered. 

She wore the standard white coat of every doctor you’ve ever met with the exception of the detailed pin of two white strings knotted together inside a heart and a red cross placed in the middle of it all.

“We'll do the basic health checks, the measurements and all the like, nothing too difficult. Then we educate you on every soulmark you have. You are aware of what you have with the five of them, correct?”

She rapid fires and you're left agape, mouth closing and open as your brain catches up. The doctor raised an eyebrow and you nod. With that, she motions to the scales behind you as she stands. You followed the woman to the stadiometer placed next to the door. 

Once she was done taking your measurements down, you both returned to her desk where she asked you a few questions about your allergies and recent medical history. It was an easy procedure, almost boring. The ever so present exhaustion is still weighing your bones, you yawned. Staying awake felt like a challenge and you don't doubt she had noticed this when she placed down her board to open her drawer.

“You are feeling more exhausted than before, am I correct in assuming this?”

“Yes…?”

She hummed when she found what she was looking for and placed the thick white medicine bottle in front of you.

“This should help your body get used to the bonds whenever you touch Jimin or Taehyung. The exhaustion is normal since you live far from them but once you move in and are surrounded by your soulmates, you should feel more energized.”

Amoneuron , it reads on the label. Curious, you twist the lid open to see what might just be a hundred of blush pink colored round pills.

“With that out of the way, from what I've heard from Yoongi, you've researched every soulmark there is at one point in your life but I doubt that you don't have any questions,” She fished out the yellow folder under her board and opened it, not knowing how surprised you are to hear Yoongi’s involvement. “Anything you'd like to know about?”

Your mind takes you back to the empty search and countless ‘Did you mean…?’ questions on every result. Jimin and your marks never yielded any results, none in Naver and none in Google. 

You tried finding it in your books but none of them were ever close to the touch activated golden swirls and the feeling of being rejuvenated.

“I tried researching what could be Jimin and I’s soulmark but I couldn't find one, is it that rare of a mark?”

She nods. “ Healing touch , there's so little information of that type of mark since the last recorded case can be traced back to 1934.”

Your eyes widen, surprised by how rare of a mark you share with Jimin.

“Which meant if there were soul-link related sickness between you, I fear that we won't be much of help as we don't know much about Healing Touch other than mates who has it doesn't get hungry, thirsty nor need much sleep if they interacted enough,” She gauges your reaction, when she saw your confusion she continues. “By interacting enough, I don't mean hugs or hand holding, I mean kisses and sex.”

You began to cough violently, choking on your saliva at her bluntness, cheeks burning bright but she ignored you and continued.

“Hand holding and hugs can only guarantee better stamina and endurance, even being close enough can make the other have a bottomless energy. As this concerns a highly valued individual, our team is already attempting to acquire more information about Healing Touch but I don’t have an estimated time on when we’ll be ready to share our findings, please understand that we are also surprised by this mark’s sudden revival.” She smiled. “Anything else you'd like to ask?”

“Are Taehyung and Jimin's marks somehow similar? I remember feeling… rejuvenated whenever the both of them touched me but then got overstimulated.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“No, Taehyung’s touch shouldn’t affect you outside of the first touch nor should you be suffering from soulbond hyperactivity from both of them. When Seokjin had carried you in, what exactly happened beforehand?”

“When Taehyung hugged me again not too long ago, we experienced soulbond hyperactivity.”

“Huh.” Was all she replied with, hand scribbling furiously on her notes. You had the urge to sit up a little straight and take a peak at what she’s writing down so passionately but decided against it, fearing what you might learn from it.

“Any guesses on what could have caused this?”

“It's hard to say much for now since Healing Touch is a very rare mark. But I can hazard a guess and say that due to their similar nature being touch-activated marks and Healing Touch being as powerful as it is, it had influenced Love Print somehow.” 

If her words were anything to go by, If Jimin and your soulmark does greatly affect both your livelihoods by practically rendering you both immortals by eliminating the need for food, sleep, and water as long as the needed affection level is met; not to mention, as long as the both of you are close enough, exhaustion is nothing but a word.

And if Taehyung’s soulmark has evolved due to Healing Touch, then wouldn’t the benefits, at least the bare bones of them, extend to him as well?

You already sense the building headache you’re about to experience in the future with three—including Jungkook whose energy is already a thousand times more of a kid in a toy store—bouncy men with the energy of a toddler in a sugar rush. In advance, you began to pray internally for Namjoon, Sejin, and Seokjin’s sanity.

“It seems that I am due to share notes with the doctor who had interviewed Jimin,” She says as she slams close the cover of her journal with a smile. “This could lead to a breakthrough in the future, with both of your permissions, we would like to study your soulmark more intimately.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it but my soulmate might not share the sentiment. The company as well.”

“Your soulmarks could very well lead up to the discovery of the cure to an incurable disease, I doubt he would decline such a possibility.”

You don’t doubt the possibility of your soulmark being the answer to the long time issue of something as fatal as cancer or dementia but the prospect of being examined, had made you feel uncomfortable. To be under intense scrutiny and possibly put under a specific diet to tailor to their needs—especially when Jimin had only recently stopped caring about his body image—had made you more unwilling to participate.

You’d spare a few vials of blood since your bond can regenerate it back in record time but a prolonged trial is definitely a no.

“Why did it manifest now? After all those years, why now?” You ask abruptly, trying to change the subject. You hoped she would take the bait and luckily, she did with a defeated sigh.

The answer to your question is already solved, it was simple.

“As you know, once we hit the age of 16, the chances of meeting our soulmates goes up to 10% and will gain the same amount the next year will continue on till it hits a hundred on the 26th and the chances of manifesting a mark stops on the 27th,” You nod, feigning ignorance and she continues. “The Nexus connection had to wait for Jungkook to show which had put yours and the rest to a state of dormancy. So when he turned 21, with half a hundred chance, he finally got a mark and here we are.”

You stand and bow, not wanting to leave any free millisecond where she could try continuing to pressure you into agreeing into their research.

“Thank you so much for your insight, Dr. Gwak.”

She looked incredulous and surprised by your sudden actions before returning the gesture.

“It’s a pleasure to be able to foresee a unique connection such as yours, Ms. Y/n. I hope you all the best.”

With that, you leave the room in a haste and let out the biggest exhale once the door behind you closes.

You hear the soft murmurs of voice just around the corner where you guessed you’ll find everyone save for Namjoon who must’ve been called after you had been carried in by Seokjin. But when one door closes, another opens. There’s still a few things you’re due today, a talk with the inner circle of the company, talking with the legal team to figure out who else can know the connection outside of your Nexus, and how you’ll be continuing working as their make-up artist.

There’s a tug down the thread and you look down at your pinkie to see the line turn tangible and vibrant before a wave of concern floods your system.

Tentatively, you twirled the string around your finger and the headache fades. You watch as it glows brighter, livelier with both hosts touching it before tugging it back twice. Instantly, Yoongi responds with another. You expected the string to dim, for him to let go but it remained vibrant under both of your touch.

The dull ache at the back of your head returns.

“Are you the lady with the Healing Touch soulmark?”

You jumped back to see an old woman, around the age of sixty, peering up at you with a gentle smile playing on her lips. She dons the same white coat Dr. Gwak wears the same pin of a soul specialist on the lapel and her name tag displayed on her breast pocket.

Shin Sun-young , it reads.

“In my years of being a specialist, I've never seen so many souls connected to one so I'm sorry if I'm a bit much, I'm very curious how it must feel. Having one is already overwhelming for me, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling now.”

“Yeah it's a bit much sometimes… I had three of them touch me all at the same time and I almost fainted. I don't know how I can deal with it.”

“We have some medicines for that but I’m sure you already know that and have been prescribed right. It’ll dull up your senses till the first year then you can stop taking it.”

She pats your back as you both walk off the sides and you find your soulmates sitting obediently down the hall. Jimin was lying on one cluster of seats in front of the others with an arm over his eyes and the other pinched into a fist on top of his stomach while the rest of the boys squeezed together into the five seats on the opposite wall. 

You notice the missing presence of their eldest but shrugged it off, guessing that he must've wandered off to find the bathroom or a vending machine.

“I hope it goes well for you seven, I'm sure they'll treat you so well.”

Your head snaps to her. “Seven?”

“Oh? Am I wrong? I thought all of those boys are tethered to you. Forgive this old soul.”

A suspicious voice told you that she had intentionally guessed wrong to fish for information but you tampered it down, giving the curious woman the benefit of a doubt. Soul specialists have the reputation of being knowledge-driven crazy people with barely any other qualifying trait other than their unusual obsession with soulmates after all and this lady might just be one of the people that fits the bill.

“Hoseok and Jin, their eldest who has gone somewhere, aren't tethered to me. There's no sign of any marks manifesting and we just assumed the worst.”

You hated how you sounded so dejected. You must’ve sounded so greedy to the lady for wanting to have your seven friends to be yours, as if you even deserve Seokjin’s unfaltering love.

She hums. “Are you sure about that?”

“What do you mean?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Dear, everything in the world is advanced now. They could have their blood tested to see if there's a possibility that they're also tethered to you.”

You were reminded of the times where you began to dread your birthdays when you should've been celebrating, the desperation before the abrupt descend of defeat on your birthday this year when you finally realize that you weren't 

“How is that possible? Why now? We've had years of technological evolution but something like that only appears now? Where was this when I wanted to find out if I was—”

She sighs and puts a hand on your shoulder, effectively shutting you up. “Soulmates are spiritual deary, past technology and brains of yesterdays had difficulty in figuring out the hows and why it works. But now, I can assure you that we have finally found a way to find if you're really untethered or not.”

“Tha-that’s a thing?”

You turned around to find Seokjin on the opposite hall, carrying what seems to be a hundred snacks with two hands, surprise contorting his face. Crossing the distance in under two steps, he stared at the lady with hopeful eyes.

“Where can I have myself checked?”

The way his voice dripped with hope, with desperation of a man who had lost his way and finally found a chance of redemption, a new salvation to pour his attention to. Hearing it made your chest clench. But there was no testimony for their new found tech, there's no telling if they're actually telling the truth.

As much as you are curious as to what the result could be, you couldn't have Seokjin join the test all hopeful only to fall into a deeper hole if he found out that he's actually untethered.

Your heart won't be able to handle the absolute devastation that would follow.

“Jinnie—”

“You boys are in luck, we just had the machine set up last night and we’re looking for—”

“I’ll do it. Me and someone else.” 

As they began to talk about the technicalities of using the machine and partaking in their research, you found yourself standing there in shock. 

You already suspected Hoseok also shared the same sentiment Jin held but to hear him indirectly confirm them had your heart bottoming to the soles of your feet. The guilt that used to only stem from Jin and Taehyung's confession came back to you like a blow to the head.

Jin then briskly walked away, you followed to see him approach an increasingly concerned Hoseok who watched his hyung march up to him with an indistinguishable fire in his eyes.

“Hoba, I found a way.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Found a way… to what exactly?”

“They have the technology to figure out if we're actually untethered or not.”

Everyone's eyes widened. Jimin had woken up from his nap and turned his head to his hyungs, shocked by what he had heard. Taehyung's jaw hung open, looking around in bewilderment before he stood to walk around the rest of the boys and into the stunned Hoseok on the other side of the seats to engulf him in a hug.

Even Manager Sejin who has been talking to the lawyer he brought with him had turned to listen to the conversation.

“H-Hyung—”

“I've already talked to the doctor who will be overseeing our examination and all they ask of us is our blood then the resul—”

“No.”

Seokjin’s shine dims with the atmosphere as his smile falls. Taehyung pulls away, more astounded than he was before as he stares at him in disbelief.

“Hyung?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Seokjin stammers out in disbelief.

“What if it came out as negative still? Hyung, I've already accepted my status. I-I don't want to raise my hopes up only to come down to the same result.”

“It doesn't hurt to try Hoba,” Seokjin said softer this time as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Try with me, please . If it's negative at least we can lament together.”

Hoseok agreed not too long after, unable to say no to his hyung, not when he's begging and pleading. Seokjin led him back to the soul specialist to have their blood taken. You had waited for them next to Yoongi on the seat Hoseok had occupied earlier. It's only 10am at that point yet your energy tank is drier than the sahara and non-existent as a stress-free day for you. When the two returned, you were slumped down on Yoongi's shoulder half asleep.

The exhausting day didn't end there.

After your soulmarks were registered, you all went to BigHit for a meeting and you thanked the high heavens no one from your department had seen you enter the conference room with the boys and a lawyer.

Minhyuk had asked you why there'll be a company party at dinner but no birthday boy will be showing up. You lied and told him that Jungkook’s going back to Busan to celebrate his birthday with his family. Jihye had also questioned your absence and you had apologized to her, knowing how often you've been going for leaves these past few weeks.

She says it's fine but you still feel bad anyways.

The meeting was short yet it felt like centuries has passed until you were freed. Just a couple of rules being laid like you being unable to handle Jimin and Taehyung anymore, the living situation where you'd be moved to the Bangtan dorms, and who else would know about the connections between you and the boys—they had approved letting your three friends know once you reasoned that they'll be able to save you once people began to question your aversion to touching Jimin and Taehyung in the future.

By the time you had trudge into your room, you were beyond the word exhaustion. Brain far too fogged up you to pick up on the blaring red lights in your mind as the world swirled around you and you fell face first into your bed.

You chalked it up to your sleepless night and the emotional stress you've gone through these past few days so imagine your shock when you wake up and find yourself in a sterile and white room whose ceiling lights burned your eyes the moment they opened again.

It was so bright and so white, you remember passing out before you came here and all you could feel now was bliss, as if the heavy baggage you've collected from last week and last night had been lifted off your form.

As if you were in heaven .

“G-God?”

“No, it's Min Yoongi. Open your eyes, brat.”

The haze clears at his gruff voice and you began to hear the stable beeping echoing in the hollow room. There's a heavy weight wounded loosely around your waist as well on your legs, turning your head, you were faced with the peaceful but almost colorless face of Jimin, his usually plush pink lips now pale and chaffed as his body trembled next to you; you were shaking too.

Turning to Yoongi to ask him what happened, you find your hand entangled with his. His impassive face now laced with concern and there were dark bags hanging under his eyes as if he hadn't been sleeping for a while.

“What the fuck happened?”

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[huellitaa]

girl's guide to academic success: ep 1! ⊹˚. ♡

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 this post focuses on: actively rooting for success! ♡ part 2 -> ♡

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 1. organisation

first off, have something to organise ur academic life with! i personally use notion (which i'll add later) but u can use anything as long as it's cute, convenient, unique and accessible to you, your life and your schedule specifically. especially as a visual learner, i like to have somewhere i can dump literally everything regarding a singular area in my life, so i do this for almost everything along with school and i highly recommend this <3

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 2. recognition of talents & improvements

analyse your strengths and weaknesses. think back on tests, exams, marks, and analyse which ones you got highest and lowest on. dont beat urself up for it, obviously; it's just to check which subjects you're doing good in and which ones have room for improvement. for example i love science but im not the best at it sometimes and we had an assessment recently and i didn't get as high as i'd like so i wrote down a little list on a piece of paper in my pencilcase for the topics i got the least in for me to study on my own to practise later.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 3. laying out goals

set down specific goals; i like to do this week by week accustomed to my schedule that week in my school notion page along with images and vision boards based on the term/semester, but you can do it for the week, the month, the year, anything as long as its helpful to you

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 4. productive planning

plan accordingly based on ur time energy. when creating any to do list or productivity plan dont pile a ridiculous amount onto it that just leaves you stressed and overwhelmed because that defeats the entire point; this works the same for academic plans and goals and lists etc.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 5. extra credit

put extra work in to the subjects you know will help you in the future. for example, for my personal aspirations i need to excel in english, history and textiles so i always try my absolute hardest and put my all into those lessons and do extra studying for them in my free time where i can. school is to prepare you for the future so take advantage of that

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 6. asking questions

please don't be shy to ask questions! that's what teachers are there for and you won't have them forever so take advantage of it while you can! you can even do it in that little window of time just after class if ur too nervous to ask in class. for example, on my last english exam i went to my teacher after class and asked about what i needed to improve on to get the marks i missed next time, and he told me i added too much detail and some other things so i wrote it down and am keeping a note of it to remind me to improve on that next time! (i got top of my class though so i didnt mind. still kind of pissed i added too much detail though)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 7. participation

participate! ok im saying this as someone who still struggles with social anxiety a fair amount but if u wanna get higher marks and get on good terms w ur teacher i 100% recommend this. i don't do this in every class but i do it where i can and when i'm confident in my answer, and it's really intimidating at first but what i did is i did it first in the classes i felt most comfortable on and continued from there. it gets easier every time i swear, and nobody's judging you; they'll forget about it after five minutes. plus, what would they be judging you for? being smarter than them?

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 8. prioritising ur health

this is mentioned a lot in these types of posts but if you're tired or burnt out or overworked or just feel like you need to take a break then do. do the best you can and compromise like i said earlier if you need to, just make sure u are prioritising yourself over anything. <3

──★ ˙ ̟🎀inspo

──★ ˙ ̟🎀my notion

i also really recommend this layout by @honeytonedhottie ♡

all my love 🩷✨💬🎀💗

[nickeverdeen]

Hey, could I get an imagine with Ekko x introverted!GN!reader who looks scary, serious and cold at first glance, but is actually just socially awkward and very geeky and silly once you get to know them? Like, they're very creative and love coming up with stories, as well as infodumping about random stuff they're into at the moment, like criminology or extinct animals.

Thanks!

Unmasking the Introvert | Ekko x gn!reader

Pairings: Ekko x gn!reader (romantic)

Type of fic: I’m not sure

Warnings: None

Summary: Ekko is slowly getting to know your true side

—————

Ekko had always been intrigued by you. From the first time he’d caught a glimpse of you in Zaun, he’d pegged you as the silent type, intense with that don’t-mess-with-me aura. You were usually found in the corner of any room you entered, often watching others with a gaze that could cut through glass. Most people didn’t get close enough to try talking to you, content with spreading rumors instead: some said you had a secret criminal past; others thought you might have alchemical powers that could hypnotize anyone with a glance.

But Ekko didn’t buy it. He knew better than most that appearances could be deceiving. So, he decided to talk to you himself, casually striking up a conversation at the Hideout one day after he’d noticed you tinkering with something in the corner.

“Hey, whatcha working on?” Ekko leaned over your shoulder, watching as your hands deftly tightened screws and adjusted wires.

Caught off guard, you jerked slightly, glancing up at him with wide eyes. But you quickly masked it, pulling up that familiar guarded expression, making Ekko smirk a bit. He wasn’t easily intimidated.

“Just… something I’m building,” you replied coolly, your voice steady but your eyes shifting nervously. “Helps me think.”

Intrigued, Ekko leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Mind if I watch?”

You didn’t answer immediately, but after a brief pause, you nodded. As he watched, you slowly began explaining each piece of machinery, your voice growing a bit stronger and more assured with each word. After a while, he noticed the hardened look in your eyes beginning to soften. By the time you’d finished the explanation, your whole demeanor had relaxed just a bit.

A few days later, Ekko bumped into you again, and you couldn’t help but launch into an animated explanation about something random you’d been reading about—extinct animals. Before you knew it, you were on a full-blown tangent about the Moa bird, a giant flightless bird from New Zealand that had been hunted to extinction centuries ago.

“They were enormous, like ten feet tall, with these long necks! And did you know their legs were so powerful that one kick could shatter bones?” Your eyes lit up as you spoke, hands gesturing wildly. “It’s kinda sad… but also fascinating how ecosystems just change when one creature disappears.”

Ekko just grinned, genuinely enjoying the infodump. He’d never expected that someone as intense-looking as you could be so endearing in such a nerdy way. “That’s cool, I didn’t know that. What got you into extinct animals?”

You shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I just… like learning about things. And sharing them, even though I know most people think it’s boring.”

“Boring? Nah, I think it’s cool. You got any other fun facts up your sleeve?”

You blinked in surprise, before diving into your latest fascination—criminology. He listened as you passionately detailed the science behind forensic psychology, your eyes lighting up as you explained how criminals are profiled. At one point, you started mimicking a detective’s voice, spinning a little story about a fictional thief in Zaun who’d slipped through the Enforcers’ hands multiple times.

Ekko laughed, “You’d make a great storyteller. Ever thought of putting all these ideas into a book or something?”

The suggestion took you aback. “I don’t know… I just think people wouldn’t really get it.”

“Bet they would,” Ekko said with a reassuring smile. “And hey, even if they don’t, I’m all ears.”

Over time, your quiet bond grew stronger. Ekko made a habit of stopping by to hear your latest “random obsession,” and you found yourself looking forward to sharing with him, little by little letting go of the intimidating front you put up for the world.

One night, he found you on a rooftop, writing notes in a worn-out notebook by the light of the moon. You looked up as he approached, giving him a slight nod in greeting, but he could see the glint of excitement in your eyes.

“What’s on your mind tonight?” he asked, settling down beside you.

You paused for a second, before leaning in and saying, “Alright, so imagine this: a heist, set in Piltover, but the thieves are all masked vigilantes from Zaun… and they have this backstory, see, where they all have these ridiculous alter-egos…”

And as you spun your tale, Ekko watched you with a smile, feeling lucky to be the one who got to see you like this: genuine, animated, and maybe a little silly.

[winedarkthoughts]

house of addams (1)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 4.3k

— 🍄 summary: hired to look into the mysterious deaths, disappearances, and disturbances in the small town of Farrow's End, you soon meet a certain gang of oddballs who help you connect the dots. and NO, you are NOT taking a liking to them.

— ☕ content warnings: private investigator!reader, cozy small town mystery/addams family vibes, botanist!yoongi, magical absurdity, bookshop owner!namjoon, barista!jin

— 🕸️ a/n: first chapter! directly influenced by this fic on ao3 by tinyratthief, which is loosely based on the addams family.

series m.list/schedule → next chapter

chpt. 1: new digs

september 16, 2004

If this job has taught you one thing, it’s that the laws of truth can and will be bent by anyone with enough concentrated effort. People come to you to find very specific truths; birth parents, cheating spouses, the details of shady business deals.

But if this job has taught you one thing, it's that the truth will also reveal itself to anyone with enough concentrated effort.

Though, there's always a handful of cases that force you to delve deep into things you’d rather leave buried. Like the person in Oregon who didn't show up in any photographs. Or the small town in Maryland with the strange, centuries-old secret society.

You’ve seen sides of human nature that have left you cynical, distrusting. Some have called you “dead inside,” but you’re not here to brag. Naturally, you are excellent at your job.

And when the Mayor of Farrow’s End, a sleepy town with enough missing persons cases to warrant a Netflix documentary, contacted you about a possible case, you accepted almost instantly.

Even her first correspondence and initial offer were strange. She stated a preference to discuss the finer details in person and in person only, which to you immediately suggested that the entire investigation would be a matter of confidentiality.

You were proven right when you met with her a week later. And while being proven right is usually one of your favorite things, you didn’t exactly expect this.

The offer: investigative services regarding (but not limited to) local missing persons/homicides, ecological disturbances, environmental chemical imbalances. etc.

In exchange for: monthly salary, rent support, covered business expenses.

And above all, everything must remain off the books.

The salary along with the rent support is very generous considering what you're used to, but you don’t tell the Mayor that. You do inform her that, while you wear many hats, you are not an ecologist, nor a chemist.

Mayor Summerbee, a middle-aged Asian woman with a sweet smile and even warmer eyes, informs you that you will have access to the local University’s college of natural sciences. She gives you the contact information for one Min Yoongi, a botanist who works in the school's research department.

Then she gives you the contact information for one Kim Taehyung, the town coroner and pathologist. Apparently, both of them will be available for consultation.

She is eager, maybe even desperate, smiling at you with an urgent sheen in her eyes.

When you accept her offer, shaking her hand with your usual firm grip, she seems to exhale in relief.

You move to Farrow’s End by the end of the week. It’s not as if you have much to move, just a trunkful of books and a handful of duffel bags. You’ve always moved around for work, and even if you didn’t, staying in one place for too long makes you nervous.

Your bags hit the pavement beside your boots as you survey your new home. It's a small, quaint house. The paint is faded but the architectural structure is sturdy. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, kitchen, living room. The whole place is in a slight state of disrepair, but you can't complain.

You spend the next day cleaning and unpacking, which doesn't take long since you leave most of your books in the trunk. You're exploring the town by the end of the afternoon.

The town square, though full of shops and businesses, is nearly barren. A few civilians putter around, their faces weathered and reflective of the gloom in the air. They stare at you as you pass by, a cocktail of curiosity and slight suspicion.

The next thing you notice is the posters. They're everywhere, on the crumbling brick walls, stuck on lampposts, taped to the windows, all displaying a variety of subjects. Events at the University, local night markets, antiques for sale.

But there are a few that stick out. THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE LAKE! Sign the petition to restrict land access →

HAVING STRANGE DREAMS? You're not alone, contact a psychic today!

BEWARE! DO NOT FEED LOCAL WILDLIFE.

Though, what's more strange to you is what you don't see. There are barely any missing person posters, and the few that you do see appear to have been ripped away.

Work begins now, you think to yourself as you snap some photos of several posters, flapping in the cold wind.

You pop into the general store to pick up some essentials, and the store clerk immediately recognizes that you're not a local.

He asks where you're from, you reply with the standard answer: a city not too far but not too close. He asks what you're doing here, you reply with the standard answer: you're a journalist. You add in the suggestion that you're working with the University about a story, and he doesn't question any further.

You're not sure if it's because he takes the hint or because he loses interest.

During the drive home, you notice something looming in the distance. Atop the highest hill is a dark house, with spires and towers rising from the tops of spindly trees. Even from here, you can see that the architecture is old and ornate, almost ancient in a hypnotic way. You're fairly certain you can see a murder of crows circling above.

An unusual feeling hangs around the house, like there's some kind of aura surrounding it. Welcoming some, yet blocking others.

Very strange indeed.

You spend the rest of the night huddled next to the fireplace, using the flickering orange light to skim over newspaper clippings.

No, the house does not have a heating system. But you don't mind too much, you have plenty of wood and warm clothes.

Five missing and three dead in the last year. Local law enforcement has done everything they could with what they had to work with, which apparently wasn't much. Scattered locations, no visible connection between the victims, and an alarming lack of evidence.

Eyelids heavy, you leave the papers scattered across the floor and head to bed, already looking forward to tomorrow's first coffee.

september 17, 2004

The University appears to be just as old as the rest of the town. Original wood, aged stone, curved iron accents. The brick walkway is slick with morning rain, and the sky is swirling with fog.

Perfect weather, it makes you ready to get to work.

The directory stated that Min Yoongi would be in Montgomery Hall, the natural sciences building, either in the greenhouse or in one of the labs, according to the TA you talked to earlier on the phone.

It takes some wandering, but what you like about this place is that people don't seem to notice your presence as much as they do in town. Out there, you're an easily identifiable outsider. Here, you're just another passerby with a purpose.

You find him in one of the lab rooms, tucked into a little nook that's encased with plastic sheeting, dotted with beads of moisture. The small space is crowded with greenery, big pots of tall plants with fanning leaves, draping vines from wall planters, seedlings in little trays.

Through the condensation dripping down the plastic walls, you can see that he's spraying the plants down with water, wearing a classic white coat.

You're indulging in your bad habit again. Your footsteps are notoriously quiet (you've been told), and you (apparently) have a tendency to sneak up on people and observe them for several minutes before they notice that you are there.

But it's a skill you delight in.

The man is of average height, thin, black hair, delicate features. You notice that the soles of his boots are caked with mud, and his skin is dewy from the humidifiers pumping moisture into the room.

"You already know my opinion on this," you hear him say, muffled by the spray of the water.

For a moment, you think he's talking to you, that he's rejecting your case before you've even presented it to him. But he isn't facing you, and his tone is decidedly casual, like he's talking to an old friend.

"It's bad for the others, anyway," he continues. "Don't wiggle your trigger hairs at me like that."

A pause, the water flow stops. Then a sigh of defeat.

"Fine, one puff. Then you quit pouting, got it?"

There's the sound of shuffling, then the fwick of a lighter being ignited.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step forward to peer through the slit in the plastic sheeting.

There's a Venus fly trap on one of the shelves, and between the jaws of one of the trap mouths, is a lit cigarette.

The man's head piques up when you enter his field of vision. Eyes widening, he looks like a cat that's been caught off guard.

He looks between you and the plant several times. You're fairly certain you see the tip of the cigarette glow ember, as if the plant were actually inhaling.

The man snatches the cigarette away and crushes it beneath the wet sole of his boot.

"Nasty habit," he finally says with a nervous chuckle. An awkward, straight-mouthed smile crosses his face, making his cheeks puff out slightly.

"Min Yoongi?" you ask.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds politely.

"I'm ______," you say, holding out a hand to shake.

He shuffles forward, his cold slim fingers meeting yours.

"Ah, the mayor mentioned that you'd be around."

That throws you a bit, because from what you've gathered about this case, you assumed that the mayor didn't want to be associated with it.

"Yes, would you mind filling me in on some of the ecological disturbances that have been going on in town?"

It's as if the question sends ants crawling down his spine. His neutral smile dissipates into an anxious twitch of his lips. He turns the hose back on and resumes spritzing the plants.

"What do you want to know?" he asks, a new tension in his voice.

Odd.

"Well," you start, "The mayor tells me that locals have been complaining about strange mushrooms invading their yards, increased acidity in their soil. Would you know anything about that?"

His eyebrows are knitted as he dampens the leaves of a spiraling fern.

"Mushrooms are really just the fruit of fungi, they bloom like flowers when the conditions are just right. Moisture, shade, an abundance of organic material, stuff like that. When it comes to the acidity, there's a variety of factors. All the rainfall recently leads to leaching, and the increased use of fertilizers causes nitrification. It's pretty standard."

You raise an eyebrow. He's deflecting.

"People have been saying that these mushrooms have been particularly hard to get rid of."

Yoongi 's brows furrow as if he's thinking hard.

"Fungi are tricky like that. We don't know much about them, really. They're their own class of life form. It could be a particularly stubborn strain."

"There's also been some unusual plant growth, creeping vines or the like. Very resistant to herbicides, apparently."

He pauses, considers it.

"Hmm," he mutters, the nozzle of the hose going lax in his hand.

“Also,” you continue, trying to further engage his curiosity. “There's been several cases of strange root rot?”

You add a questioning tone to your voice, gauging his reaction. Apparently, he hasn’t heard about it, because he looks up at you with the same question in his eyes.

“Root rot? In household plants?” he asks.

“No, in residencies.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, and you can tell he’s intrigued.

“I would benefit a lot from your knowledge, if I could just bring you a few samples, maybe go out and do some fieldwork—”

“You wouldn’t like working with me,” Yoongi interrupts. “I’m very…particular.”

You have a feeling the word is meant as a substitute for something else.

“Wonderful, so am I,” you reply, digging one of the many notebooks out of your bag. Flipping to the calendar, you click open your open your pen and start scribbling.

“Mornings are best, get the most out of the daylight. Make sure to bring your equipment and something to write on, and a camera if you have one.”

“Wait, I just don’t know if I’m going to be much use to you,” Yoongi says a little nervously, sticking his hands in his pockets.

You pause your scribbling to look at him. He’s pale in the fluorescent light, but not just physically. He has pale mannerisms and pale expressions, the countenance of a person that doesn’t feel as if they belong.

You know the feeling well.

“Coffee is always on me. How do you like it?” you say instead.

“Does Wednesday work?”

september 18, 2004

Three dead and five missing in less than six months. First, Michael Bradley, aged forty-two. Cause of death: chronic poisoning/exposure to toxic chemicals. He was found in his garage surrounded by household cleaners and herbicides. Apparently he’d been trying to get rid of the same strange mushrooms in his yard.

For now, all you have to work with is what they’ve published in the newspapers, and it seems that all that's come out of it is a public service announcement warning homeowners to be careful around toxic chemicals. His wife, Mary Bradley, hasn't commented on the circumstances of her husband’s death. And no one else has inquired any further into the matter.

Until today, obviously. Mrs. Bradley didn't answer her phone, and when you knocked on her door earlier this morning, she seemed less than pleased.

You opened with the standard introduction: I'm a journalist working on a story, would you mind consenting to an interview? Mrs. Bradley narrowed her eyes and scanned you up and down with barely concealed suspicion.

She asked what a journalist would find interesting about a common, accidental death in a small town. Apparently, the citizens of Farrow's End are very perceptive to outsiders.

You mentioned that fact that although Bradley's death appeared accidental, it's not common for people to die at the hands of household chemicals from prolonged exposure. Chronic poisoning is rarely without symptoms, why didn't he go to hospital?

She didn't have anything to say to that. You asked if she'd be comfortable divulging some of the details of his death, maybe even giving you access to the autopsy report. But she just grimaced at the mention, insisting that she had nothing to say about the matter and that you should leave right away.

She slammed the door in your face, but luckily it wasn't the first time people have resisted your questions. Unfortunately, a significant part of your job involves being a pain in the ass.

You linger in the front yard, where it's impossible not to notice the gnarled tree stumps and large rings of mushrooms scattered across the lawn.

You're not a mycologist by any means, but even you can tell that these mushrooms are strange. They seem to be multicolored, red and orange and brown, changing depending on the light like a hologram, but without any of the shine. They aren't bulb-shaped like many other mushrooms, but twist in tendrils this way and that, stretching.

And a smell hangs about them. You can't really describe it, something like damp and musk and old meat. Standing there, breathing them in, for too long makes your head spin.

And the trees, or rather, what's left of them. Nothing but stumps now, but you can tell that they were old when they were cut down. There's that same multi-colored effect to them, except it runs in veins throughout the tree's bark, spiraling into the rings.

You'll have to ask Yoongi about it.

Curiosity nips at you like a non-venomous snake even after you're home. It's not deadly, but it sure as hell is annoying.

What kind of disease infects fungi and trees? Why would the mayor care about privately investigating such a thing? And a thousand other questions.

You shove your boots on and enter back into the chill. You remember seeing a bookstore in town.

The Magic Shop: Books and Oddities

The front window glows with warm light, crowded with displayed volumes and curiosities (a stuffed raven, a jar of yellowing teeth, insects encased in amber).

The door swings open with the ring of a bell. Someone calls out "Welcome in," in a deep-velvet voice.

The smell of parchment and aged leather envelopes you like a familiar hug. You can't help pausing in the doorway and inhaling deeply. No matter what city you're in, places like this always feel like home.

It's everything that a bookstore should be: crowded, mysterious, and slightly dusty. The shelves are tightly grouped and arranged like a labyrinth few are privy to, and stacks—no, towers—of books occupy every corner.

You enter into the space, feet padding on the braided rugs, eyes drinking in the details. There are labels on the shelves, haphazardly spaced. They start normal enough: gardening, self-help, adventure.

But then you realize that they branch off into even more labels, or rather sub-labels. There's nocturnal gardening, gardening under the influence, Faerie gardens and goblin gardens. Each labeled sub-genre branches into even more specific sub-categories, creating a seemingly endless array of subjects.

You could explore this place for hours. In fact, you intend to over the course of your stay in Farrow's End.

You spend an indeterminate amount of time exploring all the labels and categories. The shelves twist this way and that, creating little nooks where the occasional armchair is tucked into.

Eventually, you come to a more open area with a wide-sprawling desk. The man sitting behind it is tall and tan, glasses perched on his nose, with short chestnut hair that shifts golden in the candlelight.

He's deeply focused on the book in his hands: A Comprehensive Guide to Navigating Parallel Universes and Pocket Dimensions.

Typically, you hate to bother people in a bookstore, especially if they're already reading. It's supposed to be a space for quiet reflection, for self-exploration and uninterrupted browsing. But you still have a job to do, and it's clear that you won't be able to navigate the complicated system yourself. At least, not in a concise period of time.

So you square your shoulders and prepare yourself to address the (handsome, you notice) man at the counter.

"Excuse me," you begin in a hushed voice.

The man's head whips up, as if he completely forgot there was another person here.

"Yes?" He says in that same deep voice, friendly and eager. "Do you need help finding something?" It sounds like he can't quite believe the fact. This place must not get many customers.

"Yes, if you don't mind."

His face lights up as if nothing would delight him more.

"Do you have anything on unusual mushrooms?" you ask.

The man sets down his book and slips out from behind the desk. "Hmm..." he mumbles to himself, expertly weaving between the shelves while you hurry to catch up.

"Let's see here..." he says, passing a wall draped with vines from a hanging planter, like the ones in Yoongi's lab, you notice.

"Fungi," he mutters, fingertips ghosting over the shelves. The sections under Fungi are vast and wide-ranging. Poisons & Antidotes, Moss & Lichens, Carnivorous, Aberrations.

He pauses at that last one, eyes flitting between the volumes.

"Anything specific?" he asks.

You debate on how much to disclose, but with the several cases of strange fungi in people's yards, it's probably common small town knowledge by now.

"Anything about an unusual fungus with...tendrils?" You can't help the hesitation, you're not sure if it's a common feature among mushrooms.

Apparently, it's not as unusual as you thought, because the man only nods and shifts his attention to one of the lower shelves. His slim fingers finally land on an old cloth-bound book with a red toadstool on the spine. There's no title on the cover, but the man seems to be familiar with it.

"Here you go," he says, handing it to you. "I think you'll find what you're looking for in this one."

He says it with the confidence of someone who's read every book in the building front to back. A very specific part of your brain tells you that this fact is almost certainly true.

"Thank you very much," you say, turning the book over in your hands.

"My pleasure," he replies, and means it.

"How much?"

He guides you back to the counter and rings it up for a very good price.

You're itching to ask questions, but you're not sure where to start.

The man places the book into a brown paper bag printed with Magic Shop Books and Oddities and hands it to you with a warm smile.

You lose your nerve and take the bag in silence. Then, as if he could smell the fragmented thoughts darting around in your skull, he says, "Be careful in the woods."

You look at him. There's the same friendly smile, but now with a hint of good-natured curiosity.

"If you're going mushroom hunting, I mean," he adds.

You stare at him for perhaps too long.

"Thanks," you say, dropping a generous tip into the jar next to the register.

"Hope to see you again," he calls out as you exit through the front door.

A moth to flame, bees to honey. Insert: you to coffee shops with perfect ambient lighting. You spot it just as you're leaving the narrow alley that leads to the bookshop.

Turning the corner onto a cobblestone walkway, you catch sight of the cafe windows, slick with the recent rain. But from what you can see through the glass, it looks like a warm, cozy place.

Glancing at the front door, you notice an OPEN sign, even though it's quite late. You're opening the door and stepping inside before you're even conscious of it.

The interior reflects the same aged aesthetic as the exterior, dark wood and brick and brass accents. But the kitchen area houses clean chrome appliances, and there are shelves stacked with white dishes behind them. Golden light warms a glass case fully stocked with a manner of pastries, breads, and other nibbles, all of which still seem to be steaming hot.

You immediately decide that you like this place.

"Good evening," a pleasant voice calls, though you can't yet identify the speaker.

The smell of steam and freshly-ground coffee beans becomes richer as you approach the counter. You can hear someone puttering around in the back room.

You glance at the menu's wide selection, and when you look back at the counter, a man is standing right in front of you.

You don't scare easily, but it's enough to make you jump a little.

"What can I get you?" the man asks cheerfully. He's tall and slim, wearing a white button-up and black slacks under an apron. Brown hair, dark eyes, and a full smiling mouth.

You order a coffee and a pastry.

"What time do you close?" you ask, wanting to sit down and enjoy the atmosphere but also not wanting to be the asshole that settles in just before closing.

"On Wednesdays we close at noon, otherwise we're open twenty-four hours," he replies, sounding delighted by rather than annoyed by the fact.

A twenty-four hour coffee shop? You really like this place.

He must see your eyebrows raise in surprise, because then he proudly adds, "Only one in town."

Pleasantly surprised, you look around the shop to assess the seating options. There are booths tucked along the walls, a few tables and chairs, and a few plush-looking armchairs near the windows.

"Please, have a seat and make yourself at home. I enjoy the company," the man says as he makes your drink.

You take him up on it, settling into one of the chairs by the frosted glass of the window. It's then that you take a closer look at the book the shop owner recommended.

A fraying cloth-bound cover, a red toadstool instead of a title. Inside, a table of contents. First, a bit of basic mycology, which you greatly benefit from. Immediately after, a range of mutations, circumstances, and environmental factors that caused the direct disturbance to said mycology.

You get lost in it quite easily, sipping your drink (which is expertly brewed) and nibbling your pastry (which is almost too delicious for words). You know that you'll be spending a considerable amount of time here throughout your stay in Farrow's End.

The book cites several case studies, all suggesting that a new strain of fungus is not only spreading rapidly, but infecting all other strains it has access to.

You read on, only momentarily distracted by the occasional customers that enter into the establishment. Like the group of students, most likely from the University, who order a large batch of espresso to-go. Or the old man who orders a sandwich and black coffee and sits outside despite the late-night chill.

You don't realize it, but you read on until the early morning. The first few faint, pale rays of sunlight stretch across your current page through the window, and you jerk to attention when you realize what time it is.

Not that you have somewhere in particular to be today. But you've always liked to get a jump on things early on in the investigation. And you have better luck getting interviews during the day.

You had no idea that time was passing so quickly. This place seems to have an air of particular tranquility, the kind that only a handful of coffee shops are able to achieve. It's the feeling of finding a quiet place after being overstimulated for hours.

You take your dishes to the counter, drop a tip into the jar, and step into the morning chill.

Exhaustion sets in on the journey home, and you crash moments after your head hits the pillow.

The dreams start that night.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! love to hear any of ur thoughts 👉👈

next chapter

[lilianade-comics]

Stolen Sanguine's Storyline

@taptrial2 requested information about my Danny Phantom vampire AU, Stolen Sanguine. I previously made a post about the AU's world-building. This post will summarize the story as far as I've developed it.

*Vlad begins the relevant history of this AU as a vampire, and the details of his turning are not important as they are not the inciting incident of his revenge plot.

---

THE PAST.

A little over thirteen years ago, Vlad was a rich, powerful vampire living the typical vampiric lifestyle with the added bonus of some mad science human/vampire experimentation on the side. But after years of living like that, he realized it wasn't satisfying him and there was something very big and important missing from his existence. Under the weight of crushing loneliness, and knowing it's supposed to be against vampiric nature to form real connections, Vlad decides to run an experiment: Is it possible for him, a vampire, to form a real relationship with a human and never introduce blood consumption to the dynamic? Is it possible for him to experience genuine love?

Enter Jack and Maddie. Maddie was about six months pregnant at the time, and the story she tells Vlad is that her husband was a merchant whose ship sank recently. Jack is in the role of her servant. They quickly form a friendship with Vlad and in Maddie's case, she allows Vlad to believe he's wooing her. They run the long game on Vlad, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and that moment comes a few months after Maddie's twins are born. Jack and Maddie, vampire hunting husband and wife, turn on Vlad and attempt to slay him, citing his many, many crimes against humanity and evil, blood consuming nature as the reason he's a fool to think they ever cared about him at all.

Vlad escapes Jack and Maddie because his castle is full of secret passageways, but he's suffering a nasty facial wound from a stake and reeling from the betrayal. He watches from a distance as they burn his home down and destroy his immortal life's work, and bitter hatred takes root in his black heart because he actually had hope his experiment was working. That he could love and be loved and finally feel satisfied...

Immediate revenge is the only option. Maddie gave all number of excuses why she wouldn't let Vlad meet her infant (the cholera outbreak in the area is too dangerous) in a thin attempt to protect them should the plan go awry, but she didn't realize Vlad's powers far extend the norm. With a trace of Jack's blood on one hand and Maddie's on the other, Vlad can taste both and have an approximate idea of where their offspring resides, so he sets off to destroy Jack and Maddie's world.

Jack and Maddie would never have expected Vlad to find their little traveling murder wagon, so it's relatively undefended save the ridiculous amount of anti-vampire measures, half of which are useless and the other half pose no more than a slight inconvenience. The biggest obstacle is the fact that Vlad can't enter the dwelling uninvited and keep his powers, but he's beyond caring at this point and he meets no opposition from the cowering caretaker tasked with minding the treacherous leeches's spawn.

He wasn't expecting two babies, and after forcing entry Vlad is feeling more fatigued, vulnerable, in pain, and anxious than he anticipated, so he makes the hasty choice to take one and leave the other. Had he been more decisive, he probably would have done something far more grisly, but this choice sealed the fate of both children for better or for worse. Vlad flees the Fenton's traveling home with his stolen prize and vanishes into the beyond, never to be found.

(Jack and Maddie return some time later, exhausted and emotionally spent from hours of trying and failing to find their prey. To say that day went from bad to worse for them is an understatement. They continue to search for Vlad and their daughter for weeks, but the day they find a blood soaked baby blanket in the woods is the day they lose all hope.)

Vlad's retreat from his pursuers was stressful and made more difficult due to the fact that he was injured from the attempted slaying and powerless from forcing entry, but fortunately for him the tiny object of his revenge will conveniently provide the blood needed for his expedient recovery. Vlad has never eaten a child before--the thought is somewhat distasteful to him, but he puts this discomfort aside in the face of his hunger and seething, furious need to hurt Jack and Maddie.

It's funny, then, how when he removes the infant from its blanket and looks into its blue eyes and observes its little fisted hands and feet, holding it aloft and away from his body like the sacrifice it's supposed to be, Vlad hesitates. In those best days with Jack and Maddie, he could have sworn his experiment was working. That if they had never tried to kill him, Vlad could have seen fully past his desire for blood and simply be their friend, no strings attached. That he could have fully loved them. That they could fully love him. It was they who had ruined everything, they who were the monsters, not him. Vampires could love, if they chose to. He just needed to find someone without prejudice, someone without hate...

Danielle's life was spared that day. As she grows up far, far away from her birthplace, Vlad ensures she knows what he wants her to know: That he, a vampire, adopted her after her evil parents used her as bait in an attempt to kill him. It's not the unedited truth, of course. But it's true enough. What's even more true is that Danielle loves him wholeheartedly, and Vlad, in his own disturbed way, loves her too. He shields her from the darkness of his world and does everything in his considerable power to keep her happy, healthy, and safe. He's not lying when he claims he's never bitten her. She's his daughter, a word that isn't in the average vampire's vocabulary. It's the sweetest revenge imaginable: the child of vampire hunters, now the child of a vampire.

---

PRESENT DAY.

Danny is turned inside his own home. It was a freak accident, and he wasn't even bitten. All it takes is one little scratch and a tiny drop of venom; and he wakes up the following night with a craving for the unimaginable. Brought up to believe vampires are the most evil creatures alive and terrified of what he might do to his parents, he flees home and camps out at the Foley farm, where Tucker sneaks him livestock just to keep him alive.

Jack and Maddie were going to let Danny apprentice at an astronomer's guild in the near future, so Danny leaves them a note to tell them he was so excited about it he left early. The truth is too terrifying to admit, and he knows they're too caught up in the hunt for the vampire that got away from them thirteen years ago to question it. They kept saying they were close; which means Danny is free to...do what, exactly?

He has nowhere to go. Tucker can't hide him forever, and as much as Sam pretends that she's a witch she can't undo his curse. And Danny feels that hunger still, that hunger driving him to hurt his closest friends. So he leaves them too, fearing their safety.

He travels for a bit by night, subsisting off animals and avoiding people as much as he can. He has some close calls: a white-clad vampire slaying cult nearly catches him after he gets a little too bold going after livestock, and even though Danny knows he needs to avoid people, he can't help but take advantage of his newfound immortality and help people who need it. A victim of highway robbery here, a stuck wagon there. One freezing cold river and one rescued swimmer later and Danny discovers that he's exceptionally pathetic for a vampire; he can't die by hypothermia or drowning, but he lacks the resistance and recovery speed these monsters are supposed to have. He spends hours staring at the stars, hoping no one finds him like this, and all he can think about is blood.

It's at one rural village miles away that he hears whispers that he's officially in vampire territory. He's passingly familiar with these concepts: vampires aren't typically nomadic and usually reside in one or two locations, amassing enough power and wealth and political or economic influence so as to be untouchable, and presiding over a handful of villages or even a city that don't dare to oppose them. This particular area apparently has a relatively high concentration of vampires, which normally would have him going the other direction. But one name stands out from the rest, one name gives him pause. Vlad Masters, or Plasmius as he is colloquially known underground. The one who escaped from his parents, all those years ago. The one who killed his baby twin sister.

Curiosity is only a fraction of what drives Danny into Vlad's domain. Is it anger? A sense of vengeance for a sister he never had the chance to know? Misguided heroic principles telling him to save the poor people in Vlad's village? Or something far more complicated, the need to look at another vampire and compare himself--to understand---what he is. What he might become. Either way Danny finds himself readying a wooden stake on the way to the manor and realizing he might be more like his parents than he's willing to admit.

It's midday when Danny arrives. He long ago picked up a heavy cloak to shield him from the sun, and he figures that Vlad is more likely to be inactive and less powerful when it isn't night. And since Danny has never drank human blood, he has no powers to lose when he enters the manor uninvited. He doesn't know what he's looking for. A murder dungeon, probably. Body parts strewn everywhere. Blood smeared on the walls. Evidence of a terrifying vampiric mad scientist's crimes. Not prim little houseplants and stacks and stacks of gaudy decorations. Unfortunately for him, Vlad has been functionally diurnal for years at this point, and Danny doesn't notice he's been snuck up on until Vlad is right behind him and inquiring just what does this little intruder think he is doing?

Coming face to face with his sister's murderer with no warning wasn't ideal, but Danny has been on the open road long enough that his reaction time is sharpened to a knife's point. Or a stake's point, as it were. And perhaps if he were facing a human he might have managed to do something with it. But Vlad catches his swing comically easily and holds it in place, like he's trying to decide if it was meant to be a feeble joke. Danny wrests his arm away and falls back, and his hood slips back from his head, revealing his face.

Vlad's unprecedented expression of shock and recognition is all Danny needs to see, and he's on his feet again in a blink. "Recognize me?" he inquires. Vlad audibly confirms it, that Danny must be Jack and Maddie's son, the other baby in the cradle. The twin left behind. And at this Danny's anger and panic gives way to bloodlust, a terrible surge of violence with one target. He can't believe he's endured weeks of pushing down his monsterous urges just to give in here, but Danny can't let the death of his sister slide.

Attacking Vlad again goes no better than it did the first time, and now Vlad's mostly recovered from the shock and remarking on how....amusing it is that Danny has found him after all these years. And look at that! Are those adorable canines pointed? Why, that's just the most delicious cosmic irony possible, and Vlad's smug musing at how this must have utterly destroyed his parents only enrages Danny more. Try as he might, he never even comes close to harming Vlad, who dances around him like it's all a very cute game.

Vlad maintains the insufferable veneer until Danny, furious and panting, reminds him that he happens to be the bastard who killed an innocent baby- his baby sister, and Vlad shows a glimmer of genuine irritation for the first time. Suddenly he's closer than he was a second ago, and he playfully tells Danny that being a presumptuous brat will not improve his chances of making it out of the manor alive. Danny takes the golden opportunity to swing at him again, but Vlad finally goes on the offensive and grabs him in a vicelike chokehold.

Still conversational, Vlad tells Danny he has left him in a most interesting position. Shall he kill him? That would certainly be fair, since Danny has tried to kill him already, and he's clearly unable to control himself. Or should he spare him, and reveal the true nature of his sister's fate? Danny struggles for air, with no idea what Vlad is talking about. He tries to wheeze something goading, but the moment ends abruptly when a door swings open behind them and Danielle runs into the room, not finishing her sentence when she sees the confrontation.

Saved by his sister's appearance, Vlad reluctantly releases Danny and lets him cough pitifully on the floor while he attends to Danielle, who has forgotten what she wanted and is staring wide eyed at the strange boy, not letting Vlad coax her out of the room. Danny recovers his breath, bloodlust long gone, and stares right back. Vlad, for once in his life, briefly looks at a loss, before deciding that an explanation is definitely necessary and he introduces Danielle to the impertinent little intruder who just tried to stab him, her long lost twin brother Daniel. And to Danny, he introduces Danielle, placing great stress on my beloved daughter.

Dinner that night is unbelievably awkward. For Vlad and Danny, that is. Danielle is thrilled. It comes to light that Danielle not only knows she's adopted, she knows the whole story of how she came to be with Vlad...or, at least, Vlad's edited version of it. Danny is appalled, especially when Danielle excitedly exclaims that now that he's escaped his parents, he can live with her and Vlad forever! Vlad chokes on his wine (or is it blood?) while Danny shoots him a thunderous look. Danny inquires why Dani thinks he escaped his parents, and she, sensing his unhappiness, explains that they probably tried to hurt him for being a vampire like they tried to hurt her father, didn't they? Vlad watches Danny closely, because that's exactly the assumption he made as well, but Danny manages to grind out that his parents love him and are good people, and would never, ever hurt him.

Later, after Danielle has shown Danny every nook and cranny of the manor and babbled excitedly about her life and asked him a million questions about his, after Vlad finally sends her to bed, Danny finds himself alone with his sister's murderer again. No, not her murderer. Her kidnapper. Her manipulative liar of a "father". He tells Vlad as much, sitting across from him with a lit fireplace between them. Vlad only scoffs and asks when, exactly, did he lie to Danielle? Did he lie when he said Jack and Maddie used her and Daniel as bait? Maddie was with child when she courted Vlad. Bait, my dear boy. What sort of parents knowingly place their unborn children in the sights of a vampire? Did he lie, then, when he said he rescued her from them? Judging by Daniel's unfortunate fate, no.

Danny's face colors with rage, but he can't say anything for a moment. You're still evil, you're still a monster, you won't get away with this, all flit through his mind, but he settles for telling Vlad that his parents had nothing to do with his "condition" and he's not afraid of them hurting him. Vlad smirks in that punchable way of his, and says that's evident in the way he ran for miles just to fall at the feet of their worst enemy. Danny doesn't rise to this bait. He goes on to say that he's not scared of his parents hurting him, he's scared of the reverse. Of the very real urge he feels to hurt them.

Then Danny brings up the thing that has been eating at him since he first saw Dani. The fact that she was not only happy and alive, but whole and unbitten. She's been living with a vampire for thirteen years and Vlad's never...? Vlad regards him and says nothing, face impassive save an amused quirk to the side of his mouth. How? Danny wonders. How is that even possible? Vampires aren't supposed to be able to treat humans like anything other than food. How did Vlad figure out how to resist the hunger?

Seeing that Danny is being earnest, Vlad asks him why he's here and what he wants. And Danny falters, thinking. As much as his skin crawls at the thought, he wants Vlad to teach him the secret to beating the hunger. He wants to stay close to his sister's side. And he wants to hold onto that glimmer of hope that maybe he doesn't have to be a monster. Vlad drums his fingers against the rich texture of the armchair and remarks how fortunate Daniel is that he bears such a striking resemblance to the one person in the world Vlad would never deny anything. And with how happy Daniel's presence has made Danielle, it would be a pity to separate the siblings again so soon. So with the wary promise that Daniel will do exactly what Vlad tells him to and that he will do nothing on pain of death to endanger Dani's safety whether it be by word or deed, Vlad agrees to teach him his secrets.

---

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How plausible sentence generators are changing the bullshit wars

This Friday (September 8) at 10hPT/17hUK, I'm livestreaming "How To Dismantle the Internet" with Intelligence Squared.

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

In my latest Locus Magazine column, "Plausible Sentence Generators," I describe how I unwittingly came to use – and even be impressed by – an AI chatbot – and what this means for a specialized, highly salient form of writing, namely, "bullshit":

https://locusmag.com/2023/09/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-plausible-sentence-generators/

Here's what happened: I got stranded at JFK due to heavy weather and an air-traffic control tower fire that locked down every westbound flight on the east coast. The American Airlines agent told me to try going standby the next morning, and advised that if I booked a hotel and saved my taxi receipts, I would get reimbursed when I got home to LA.

But when I got home, the airline's reps told me they would absolutely not reimburse me, that this was their policy, and they didn't care that their representative had promised they'd make me whole. This was so frustrating that I decided to take the airline to small claims court: I'm no lawyer, but I know that a contract takes place when an offer is made and accepted, and so I had a contract, and AA was violating it, and stiffing me for over $400.

The problem was that I didn't know anything about filing a small claim. I've been ripped off by lots of large American businesses, but none had pissed me off enough to sue – until American broke its contract with me.

So I googled it. I found a website that gave step-by-step instructions, starting with sending a "final demand" letter to the airline's business office. They offered to help me write the letter, and so I clicked and I typed and I wrote a pretty stern legal letter.

Now, I'm not a lawyer, but I have worked for a campaigning law-firm for over 20 years, and I've spent the same amount of time writing about the sins of the rich and powerful. I've seen a lot of threats, both those received by our clients and sent to me.

I've been threatened by everyone from Gwyneth Paltrow to Ralph Lauren to the Sacklers. I've been threatened by lawyers representing the billionaire who owned NSOG roup, the notoroious cyber arms-dealer. I even got a series of vicious, baseless threats from lawyers representing LAX's private terminal.

So I know a thing or two about writing a legal threat! I gave it a good effort and then submitted the form, and got a message asking me to wait for a minute or two. A couple minutes later, the form returned a new version of my letter, expanded and augmented. Now, my letter was a little scary – but this version was bowel-looseningly terrifying.

I had unwittingly used a chatbot. The website had fed my letter to a Large Language Model, likely ChatGPT, with a prompt like, "Make this into an aggressive, bullying legal threat." The chatbot obliged.

I don't think much of LLMs. After you get past the initial party trick of getting something like, "instructions for removing a grilled-cheese sandwich from a VCR in the style of the King James Bible," the novelty wears thin:

https://www.emergentmind.com/posts/write-a-biblical-verse-in-the-style-of-the-king-james

Yes, science fiction magazines are inundated with LLM-written short stories, but the problem there isn't merely the overwhelming quantity of machine-generated stories – it's also that they suck. They're bad stories:

https://www.npr.org/2023/02/24/1159286436/ai-chatbot-chatgpt-magazine-clarkesworld-artificial-intelligence

LLMs generate naturalistic prose. This is an impressive technical feat, and the details are genuinely fascinating. This series by Ben Levinstein is a must-read peek under the hood:

https://benlevinstein.substack.com/p/how-to-think-about-large-language

But "naturalistic prose" isn't necessarily good prose. A lot of naturalistic language is awful. In particular, legal documents are fucking terrible. Lawyers affect a stilted, stylized language that is both officious and obfuscated.

The LLM I accidentally used to rewrite my legal threat transmuted my own prose into something that reads like it was written by a $600/hour paralegal working for a $1500/hour partner at a white-show law-firm. As such, it sends a signal: "The person who commissioned this letter is so angry at you that they are willing to spend $600 to get you to cough up the $400 you owe them. Moreover, they are so well-resourced that they can afford to pursue this claim beyond any rational economic basis."

Let's be clear here: these kinds of lawyer letters aren't good writing; they're a highly specific form of bad writing. The point of this letter isn't to parse the text, it's to send a signal. If the letter was well-written, it wouldn't send the right signal. For the letter to work, it has to read like it was written by someone whose prose-sense was irreparably damaged by a legal education.

Here's the thing: the fact that an LLM can manufacture this once-expensive signal for free means that the signal's meaning will shortly change, forever. Once companies realize that this kind of letter can be generated on demand, it will cease to mean, "You are dealing with a furious, vindictive rich person." It will come to mean, "You are dealing with someone who knows how to type 'generate legal threat' into a search box."

Legal threat letters are in a class of language formally called "bullshit":

https://press.princeton.edu/books/hardcover/9780691122946/on-bullshit

LLMs may not be good at generating science fiction short stories, but they're excellent at generating bullshit. For example, a university prof friend of mine admits that they and all their colleagues are now writing grad student recommendation letters by feeding a few bullet points to an LLM, which inflates them with bullshit, adding puffery to swell those bullet points into lengthy paragraphs.

Naturally, the next stage is that profs on the receiving end of these recommendation letters will ask another LLM to summarize them by reducing them to a few bullet points. This is next-level bullshit: a few easily-grasped points are turned into a florid sheet of nonsense, which is then reconverted into a few bullet-points again, though these may only be tangentially related to the original.

What comes next? The reference letter becomes a useless signal. It goes from being a thing that a prof has to really believe in you to produce, whose mere existence is thus significant, to a thing that can be produced with the click of a button, and then it signifies nothing.

We've been through this before. It used to be that sending a letter to your legislative representative meant a lot. Then, automated internet forms produced by activists like me made it far easier to send those letters and lawmakers stopped taking them so seriously. So we created automatic dialers to let you phone your lawmakers, this being another once-powerful signal. Lowering the cost of making the phone call inevitably made the phone call mean less.

Today, we are in a war over signals. The actors and writers who've trudged through the heat-dome up and down the sidewalks in front of the studios in my neighborhood are sending a very powerful signal. The fact that they're fighting to prevent their industry from being enshittified by plausible sentence generators that can produce bullshit on demand makes their fight especially important.

Chatbots are the nuclear weapons of the bullshit wars. Want to generate 2,000 words of nonsense about "the first time I ate an egg," to run overtop of an omelet recipe you're hoping to make the number one Google result? ChatGPT has you covered. Want to generate fake complaints or fake positive reviews? The Stochastic Parrot will produce 'em all day long.

As I wrote for Locus: "None of this prose is good, none of it is really socially useful, but there’s demand for it. Ironically, the more bullshit there is, the more bullshit filters there are, and this requires still more bullshit to overcome it."

Meanwhile, AA still hasn't answered my letter, and to be honest, I'm so sick of bullshit I can't be bothered to sue them anymore. I suppose that's what they were counting on.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/07/govern-yourself-accordingly/#robolawyers

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en