#see I managed not to write the horrifically stupid version I first thought of

[burnedbyshoto]

split

— Shouto becomes victim of a quirk accident. In that he become two people who get along as well as fire and ice do. They clash at every moment, and only seem to agree on one thing: their love for you. Or in which Shouto gets split into two by a quirk that spilts chimeras and in order for peace to be found you find yourself in a threesome with two halves that make the one you love most.

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pairing: split!todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, threesome, split!shouto, anal, double penetration, blowjob, rimming, cunnilingus, cursing, degradation, praise 

word count: 8,930

a/n: LMAOOOOOO this waas actually fun to write the names I gave them were super easy because I am uncreative. I used an anons rec for shoutos hero name: reisho so that’s what that is. and thank you to my lovely canasian for finding the original drabble I wrote. pls enjoy!

kinktober day 6 main kink: threesome

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“What’s going on?”

It was a series of words that often came out of your mouth because, as a Pro Hero, there were many times where you had no idea what was going on. It usually ranged from asking why Kaminari and Kirishima were giggling and avoiding your gaze when you walked into a room to coming onto an active battle where Bakugou and Midoriya were bloodied and crazed. There was nothing off-limits to those words, as they were, after all, said in complete confusion. 

“Where is he?!” you tried again, watching as nineteen different eyes look everywhere but at you.

However, it was without given when you watched your twenty -- wait, was that twenty-one? -- former classmates both stumble into one another as they turn to face you.

“Y/l/n-chan!” Mina squeaked, stepping up from the crowd, trying to cover up the two people in there that you couldn’t quite recognize as your classmates. “How was patrol? I heard that Todoroki-kun left you midway!”

You wished that last comment didn’t make your cheeks burn as intensely as it did.

Today had been one of the rare days that you had gone off on your route with your boyfriend, Todoroki Shouto. Both of you watched the busy streets and whispering between yourself as you avoided the masses, not wanting to get caught up with fan interactions that were rather unneeded. But there had been a large altercation that required Shouto’s expertise. Specifically, the voice at headquarters commanded that you stay on patrol while Shouto would leave. So you had watched as Shouto placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb softly petting your cheek, his smile warm.

“I’ll be back,” he had promised before taking off in a mist of ice and fire.

You continued the rest of your patrol with a rather childish pout on your face, you hadn’t enjoyed being sidelined like this, but you calmly assessed the situation. It probably wasn’t a fight you would be much aid in, and there was never a reason to send more than enough heroes onto a single area. But your route was coming to an end, and Shouto had still yet to reappear. Trying not to overthink it, you frowned while passing a store with TVs out in front.

Staring at the bright, flashing screen, you suddenly felt a sense of panic at the headliner: Chimera Quirk-Wielding Villain Apprehended by Pro Heroes Froppy, Pinky, and Reisho. (slight injuries on the hero team.)

With concern pitting up horribly in your stomach for your friends and boyfriend, you finished your assignment as calmly as you could, before finally getting to rush back to your agency. You had taken to the rooftops to get there as quickly as you could.

Through all that, you found yourself right where you had been in the beginning, staring at Mina, who despite the few scrapes of dirt and soot on your costume, looked normal. Your eyes glanced over at Tsuyu, who, like Mina, was unharmed -- which left Shouto.

“Something strange happened during that battle,” Momo spoke up, her face set with concern, her eyes, although not horrified, was definitely a bit at a loss for an explanation.

“Wha--?”

“The person we fought against could make chimera’s out of people, but the limits of their quirk meant that once they made a chimera, they couldn’t add more to the creation,” Mina explained, her head nodding as she looked from Momo to you. Her fingers were tugging at her pink curls, and you tilted your head.

“Is Shouto still smashed together with someone or something?” you asked, a bit hesitant to see what potentially horrific creation your boyfriend could have turned into. “I’ve seen Shouto show up home after the poop-villain fiasco, I swear I won’t cry if he’s ugly!”

“Well, no, kero,” Tsuyu frowned, her finger pressing to her lower lip as she tilted her head. “Mina-chan and I were a chimera for a bit, and the quirk has a limit when they make a chimera.”

You didn’t like how that was worded.

“Just fucking show her the idiots who threw the match!” Bakugou snapped, his eyebrows furrowed as he shoved the crowd away in the middle, parting them like Moses did the red sea. 

Idiots? You thought, your confused expression growing as you looked from Bakugou’s frowning face onto what they had been hiding from you.

And you instantly understood why when you were greeted with two heads. One entirely redheaded, the other entirely white-haired, each with identical faces who looked at you with the same tone to their eyes.

“You see, their quirk can also separate chimera’s, and well… I — we, guess that Todoroki-san is one,” Momo informed you as you stared at opposite replicates of your loving boyfriend. “The villain said they’ve never split a natural-born human chimera before, it had been their first time, so the lasting effects of the quirk are unknown.”

The redheaded Shouto still sported a scar on his face, but he felt completely different. His face was cold, stare distant, and burning with a suppressed, denied fury that you couldn’t recognize on him outside of a battlefield. But even with the cold look encompassing his body and stature like a thick sheet of ice, when he looked at you with his set of two burning turquoise eyes, you knew his feelings for you were still the same.

The white-haired Shouto had no scar, and he looked much closer to the man you knew currently, except maybe a bit more open? His face quipped into a smile, his eyes swimming with mirth, joy, and content with finally seeing you here, all good emotions but emotions you weren’t used to him exposing to the public like this. But even with the warm, loving look burning softly around him, his set of grey eyes shone with feelings you knew were true.

“My boyfriend is split into two?!”

There was something wrong with that sentence, something that carried heat because the moment you said those words, both Shouto’s seemed to freeze next to each other. Icy and fiery glares meeting in an electric firestorm as Deku promptly dragged you out of the room with Momo and Mina. You struggled against Deku’s iron grip, only seeing white-haired Shouto’s jaw drop in the beginnings of a speech while redheaded Shouto glowered at him with all the intensity he could muster.

“Y/l/n-san, we need you to never, ever mention that they’re the same person,” Deku immediately spoke as soon as the door between the hallway and the room where the Shouto’s were closed. “He’s — they’re — not handling that information very well, and are acting rather… immature about who the real ‘Todoroki-kun’ is.”

“They’re not connected by the same mind?!” you spluttered, your own mind feeling like it was split down the middle at the hypothesis that your boyfriend was both of these men, but none of them. “So, it’s like a split personality manifesting completely?”

“We’re a bit sure on how to compare it to something such as dissociative disorder,” Momo spoke calmly, undoubtedly her mind working a mile a millisecond to make sense of the strange predicament you all were in. “He’s been in here for some time now. And from what we’ve managed to question from him, both parts of Todoroki-san remember everything. It seems they differ in just how they felt about it on an emotional basis.”

You blinked once, twice.

“Do you mind giving me an example?”

Goddamn idiot you were.

“Well, I guess the bigger emotional differences were during our high school years,” Midoriya mumbled, his fingers pinching his lower lip in thought. “A good example would be why he challenged me during the sports festival. Redhead Shouto said he did it because he hated Endeavor so much back then he was willing to prove his strength no matter what. White-haired Shouto says it was an overreaction on his own part and that he’s truly sorry.”

You frowned.

“It almost sounds like if Todoroki-san’s quirk had been only one of his parents, and his two halves are insights to the life he would have led if he had only one,” Momo offered a pursed stare. She didn’t seem too sure of her conclusion, but for you, it was enough.

“Honestly, you were the only one I saw both Todoroki-kun’s act the same toward!” Mina exclaimed, her hands grabbing your shoulders as she leaned in close, a sly grin on her face. “It’s like the two of you are destined lovers, no matter how the world is!”

“Mina!” you whined, feeling utterly embarrassed as she snickered loudly, her eye falling into a wink before straightening up.

“Alright, so just a recap: don’t mention which one is the ‘real’ Todoroki,” Mina warned, already moving back into the room.

“What do we call them then?” you whispered, feeling not at all prepared to stare at two, stupid hot versions of your same boyfriend.

“Ah-ha, well,” Midoriya smiled embarrassed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as you all walked back in. “Only Kacchan brought up a nickname so far.”

“YOU STUPID FUCKING RED HALF!” Bakugou’s voice roared the moment the door opened, and immediately, you were pulled back into the mess of the situation. “I’LL MURDER YOUR ASS!”

“Someone was clearly not raised on manners,” came the snide remark from Shouto’s white half, and you watched on in horror as your old male classmates worked together to hold off all three rambunctious boys to keep from fighting.

“LET GO OF ME, SHITTY HAIR! I’LL GIVE THEM BOTH NEW SCARS IF THEY KEEP ACTING LIKE THIS!”

But you stared at the apathetic face on Shouto’s red half, his eyes somehow empty, dull, and angry as he glared at Bakugou.

Red half.

Red.

You looked at Shouto’s white half that was grinning at the challenge, icy frosting off his body akin to the explosions on Bakugou’s fists as he egged him on. 

White.

That would be easy enough.

You snorted, before walking forward, grabbing your boyfriend(s) hands in yours, and they quickly turned to look at you. Their gazes turning warm and full, their demeanor utterly different as the raging Bakugou faded into the background. 

“So, I’m sure you both know what’s going on at the moment,” you spoke clearly, just loudly enough to be heard over the popping explosions on Bakugou’s palms. “I also know you’re both confident in who you are, but the truth is you both have the same name, so we’re going to need a new thing to call the both of you. Is that okay?”

“Ah, I see,” white-haired Shouto nodded, his hand tightening around yours, his thumb running along the backside of your palm. “You will continue to call me Shouto, and we will call him, the Imposter.”

Wait, what?!

“I’m not the imposter,” redheaded Shouto rolled his eyes, taking the hand he held up to his lips, pressing a gentle, warm kiss to your knuckles — it contrasted chillingly with the cold, aloof tone he continues to have with his white half. “I am, after all, the one with the facial scar. It is the most recognizable feature of me. Clearly, you’re the imposter.”

You had to ignore the way your stomach fluttered and how your cheeks exploded in heat as both Shouto’s were suddenly kissing your knuckles. They only went further after leaving warm, chilling kisses on your skin. For they pulled you closer by your waist, a physical challenge between the two to claim you. Even though they both were for you.

It was only made worse by the wide-eyed, cheek splitting grins, and spluttering noises made by your old classmates who relished in this rom-com type embarrassment.

“Oh my god, enough!” you squeaked, trying to shove both overpowering men away from you.

“See, you’re being too much,” white-haired Shouto snapped, ripping you from redhead Shouto’s hold.

“Let. Y/n. Go.” redhead Shouto growled, hand exploding with fire, and you wrestled yourself out of white-haired Shouto’s hold to press your palms flat against each of their chests.

“You both better calm down right now, or else I’ll send you off with our friends until you’re back to normal!” you snap, your cheek radiating with explosive heat. With the threat heavy on their minds, redhead Shouto took away his flame, and white-haired Shouto took a less defensive stance. Relieved with their current treaty, you thrust a finger at both halves, looking between your way too amused classmates and your boyfriend(s). “You will be called Red--” you jabbed redheaded Shouto with your finger-- “and you will be White!” you spoke clearly, tapping white-haired Shouto with your other finger.

“Am I understood?”

Silence.

You glared at your boyfriend(s) who were staring down at you with wide eyes and gaping jaws.

“I said, am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” your boyfriend(s) sputtered.

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Highlight of Day One of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Where is Red going to sleep?” White asked as you settled into the, thankfully, large bed the two -- now three -- of you shared. “On the floor?”

The bed had been a present from Endeavor when Shouto had moved into your apartment with you. It was much bigger than anything you owned, and while you hadn’t been fond of the length and stretch of the bed, you indeed were grateful for it now.

“Y/n likes to be warm when she sleeps,” Red duly noted, glaring at White the entire time it took him to crawl onto the right side of the bed. He settled right by you, arm wrapped around your waist, chin grazing against your temple. “You sleep on the floor.”

“You need comfort to stay beautiful, and since you’re eliminated from being that because of the scar on your face, you can sleep on the floor!” White countered while reciprocating the same position Red was doing.

Red’s eyebrow twitched at that before his glare soured and became icy cold, “I have the bigger co--”

“Both of you shut up now!” you snap, the palms of your hands shoving their faces away from one another. You were feeling more like a mother to a pair of troublesome twin toddlers than the girlfriend of your boyfriend(s). “I don’t want to hear it!” you groan as both their jaws dropped to attempt to speak their mind. “If you can’t shut up and sleep, I’ll sleep on the floor!”

“No!”

“No!”

“Then shut up, love me more, and let’s go to bed!”

…

…

…

“You don’t have the bigger cock--”

“Oh my god!”

“Please don’t go, my love, White is an idiot.”

Highlight of Day Two of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Well, this is certainly an interesting thing to be experiencing,” Rei’s gentle voice filled the room as both Red and White sat at her sides. Neither one of them touching her, but their gazes warm and soft for their mother. Rei touched the cheeks of both her son(s) and sighed softly before returning her attention to you. “Has it been hard? I do hope they’ve been behaving themselves.”

You smiled in hopes it would help to hide the grimace on your features as you laughed.

Just this morning, the two of them nearly burned down the kitchen while trying to outperform one another in making you breakfast in bed. It was of ample notice to realize that just one Todoroki Shouto was not to be trusted in the kitchen, but putting two Todoroki Shouto’s in there had caused them to somehow burn water and melt the stove.

The eggs they managed to pull together were burnt yet undercooked and had eggshells in them.

It wasn’t the worst meal you’ve had fun enough.

“They’re doing just fine,” you lie, your smile warm at the woman you would hope to one day become your mother-in-law. “Just a bit odd to deal with two people when I’m so used to one.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. In fact, they initially saw Shouto was to be twins, but he absorbed the other one in the womb,” Rei admitted, a small laugh on her tongue as she politely covered her mouth, her eyes closed in her mirth. “A bit funny how it seems like this could have been the outcome of that life.”

You feel a cold sweat drip on the back of your neck as Red straightens, his eyes darkening as he makes contact with Rei’s arm, and fear thrums through every fiber of your being.

“Kaa-san?”

“Yes, Shouto?” Rei asked, her warm grey eyes taking in Red’s gloomy form.

“White called me ugly.”

Highlight of Day Three of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“My love, I’m not feeling too well,” White groaned on the couch when you first arrived home.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for you, you were still being cleared to work during this time of split Shouto. After a much-needed relatively short time away from home, you had returned after a patrol to a clean apartment living room and Red sitting on the singles armchair, and White sprawled on the couch. 

You froze, Shouto hardly ever got sick! His internal temperature was always so in tune to the things around him that no virus, bug, or bacteria ever managed to infect him with sickness. For all five years of knowing him, you had never once seen him sick.

“Oh my god!” you panicked, rushing to remove your coat and shoes as you ran over to the couch to feel his forehead for a temperature.

He was running a bit cold, as he always did on his right side of his body, so you internally freaked about if this was normal or not! Your Shouto always had a specific spot on his forehead that was considered normal, but this was not your normal Shouto.

You were fucked, so wildly fucked.

“Are you okay? What do you need? I can go get you a blanket. I’ll get some soup going! What medicine do you think you need?!”

“There’s…” White trailed off in his exhaustion, his hands rubbing his face in probably his sick delirium. “There’s only one thing that will help…”

“What is it?” you asked, leaning in closer to him so that his flushed lips were centimeters from your ear.

“I need... “ he trailed off, and you leaned in closer, only to be suddenly trapped in his arms and pulled on top of him. “Some one-on-one time with my beautiful girlfriend!”

The scent of burning leather filled the room.

“WHITE PUT IT OUT! PUT OUT THE FIRE!”

“Princess, I’m not feeling good.”

Good fucking grief.

Highlight of Day Four of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Hot soba.”

“Cold soba.”

“Hot soba.”

“Cold soba.”

“Hot.”

“Cold.”

“Hot!”

“Cold.”

“The store has both!” you sobbed, your boyfriend(s) adopting their possessive hugging on your body while out in public as you had attempted to get them out of the house because you thought that maybe, just maybe, they were feeling stir-crazy.

“But we always share our soba noodles, y/n,” Red looked down at you, tilting your chin so that you could look at him clearly. “I know you love cold soba more.”

“We get it, Ice Princess, daddy hurt your feelings, and now you still hate everything hot! Get over it; y/n always buys hot soba when you’re not around.”

“G-Guys,” you whimper, suddenly feeling drowned out with the clashing of ice and fire personalities around you as the crowd watched on in bemusement. “Please stop.”

They suddenly both turned on you, their eyes narrowed, faces fierce as they both exclaimed at the same time: “Which soba do you like better?!”

You’re too exhausted of them to even scold them like you had used to anymore.

In the end, they tried to settle it via arm wrestling, which resulted in a horrible tie. They had both tried to use their quirks to win, somehow forgetting in the heat of their battle that their quirks not only canceled each other, but their strength was painfully equivalent. 

Highlight of Day Five of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

To be frank, you missed kissing Shouto.

With them being the way they were and how horribly chaotic they acted, you knew if you kissed one, it would lead to them both impregnating you and slipping an engagement ring on your pretty ring finger well before you were ready for either one of those things. So instead, you stared at both of their equally perfect lips.

Full, slightly pouty pink lips that were somewhat chapped as they always were due to his quirk elements. Full, soft lips that you had felt pressed to your hands and cheeks for the past five days, and yet you craved it to be pressed against your lips, but that was undoubtedly dangerous.

But you continued to stare at Red’s lips, at White’s lips.

You liked seeing how their teeth exposed themselves when they smiled, or how he had barely formed dimples on his cheeks, the smile lines that had finally formed on his previously smooth face. You liked seeing the way he bit on his lower lip when he held his tongue, or how his tongue seductively swiped his lips when he caught you staring.

Wait—?!

You snapped out of your daze, staring at the suggestive, all too pleased look on White’s face as he leaned in close to you while Red was busy performing his daily workout routine.

“You want to fuck while Not-the-real-Shouto’s busy? He won’t know, I promise.”

You flush.

“No!”

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It was day six of split Shouto when you woke up.

Your eyes stinging with exhaustion as you stared up at the ceiling as bodies of ice and fire sandwiched you between them. They snored softly, breathes deep and full in perfect harmony as they slumbered. You hated Shouto. You hated him so much.

This could have been a fantastic experience in your fantasies. Cloning quirks were a thing, and often you would hear about the sexual endeavors many partook in while in the company of someone with such quirk. It seemed like so much fun. Someone existing solely to be fucked, replicated from someone you already trusted.

It seemed perfect.

But here you were. Living the life of many porn fantasies, but the clones — not clones — hated one another. You couldn’t even so much as breathe next to one of them for too long before the other came to rip you away, annoyed, and ready to reclaim you. They were behaving as if you didn’t already belong to them.

Maybe you could have handled the lack of horny, lusting out of your mind sex if they had simply allowed you to kiss them without starting a war. But they claimed they would rather die than see you kiss someone that wasn’t them (singular them).

So, you were struggling.

The internal struggle only grew when they woke up at the same time. Growing when they both exposed their scarred, perfectly muscled, and toned body. It grew when they pressed their sinful body against yours, and you could only look up at them with eyes like a full moon, heat wet in your panties. You wanted something to happen because watching them go at it again for the fifty-third time today suddenly made your mind snap.

Since they wouldn’t seem to quit fighting, you might as well be fucked while they fought amongst themselves. You were a big girl, you could handle two cocks around your body.

At the moment, you were in the communal kitchen living room area. You sat at the table, trying to enjoy your cup of tea while they stood a few strides away from you… arguing.

“Would you both put those mouths to better use than fighting with each other?!” you finally snapped, your hands tugging at the roots of your hair after you placed down your cup of tea. They had been fighting for the past hour as to whether or not Shouto’s first costume idea was created because of Red or because of White. 

Neither one of them claimed responsibility on that one funny enough.

They fell silent immediately. Both their eyes wide, brows furrowed, and jaws gaping like a fish as they tried to separate their conversation from what you just said.

“Better use?” Red stated, his blink slow.

A curling, devious smirk spread on White’s face, “Oh, did my love finally cave to being fucked?”

“I didn’t think you would be into cucking,” Red admitted, his own smirk growing on his face while White frowned and glared at him. “What? It’s obvious it would be you tied up, White. You can’t expect y/n to trust either one of us to sit there, so she’d tie us up. My fire would easily destroy the bonds.”

Ah yes, how could you forget that they’d adopted only one half of the one quirk Shouto possessed. Now while you definitely wouldn’t mind cucking both sides of Shouto at some point, that wasn’t what you were craving at the moment.

“Y/n loves ice trailing down her body, I can definitely satisfy her better!”

“Like I said a few days ago, I have the bigger cock, so shut up and watch us.”

They were going to drive you insane.

Standing up from the table, the chair screeching against the floor as you did so, their attention fell on you. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks, your heart fluttering in your chest as turquoise and grey eyes that you could read like nothing gorged into your form. 

You settled between them, feeling dwarfed between their taller, muscled forms. Red was in a white t-shirt and sweats, White in a black shirt and dark jeans. You were unsure as to why you felt so shaken when you pressed your fingers between the valley of their pecs, your tongue heavy in your mouth. You blamed it on the six-day dry-feast the idiots put you in, and the mere thought of finally getting your way was exhilarating. 

“This is what’s going to happen,” you say with no room for arguing, your gaze meeting theirs through your eyelashes. “We are all going to fuck. There’s three of us, and I’m the one who wants to be satisfied, so this will be a threesome. Fuck me any way you want, I don’t care, but whoever starts fighting first gets cucked.”

Red is staring at you with his piercing turquoise eyes, White’s gaze dropped to your tracing finger on his chest. But the consensus was the same.

“Yes, ma’am.”

A warm, fluttery smile breached your face, and you nodded.

“Good… now, fuck me.”

They begin almost immediately. Two initially contradicting forces of fire and ice abandoning their internal surge for power to appease and please you. There’s no stopping the shiver and the moan trapped in your throat when two identical sets of hands you knew and craved the touch of finally made contact with your body. Red’s hands were on your breasts, groping and massaging your mounds of flesh while his mouth pressed tantalizing kisses along the curve of your neck, along the length of your clavicle. 

White had dropped down, his mouth pressing hot, kisses against the flesh of your thighs and your ass. His fingers pushing the sleeping shorts you still wore, his calloused fingers brushing against your clit. 

You openly moaned, hands pressing against both White and Red for some form of support.

“You’re already so wet,” White groans his observation, his finger slicking itself against your wet folds. 

You shake, your head nodding in full understanding as you began to rotate your hips against his finger. Of course, you were so wet, you thought, goosebumps flashing against your entire body when Red pinched your nipples through your light tank. 

“You try living with two of me and be denied every physical need,” you gasped, your voice pitching the moment Red’s teeth sank into the sweet spot on your neck the same time White’s finger curled within your walls. “Fuck…”

“It’s so cute when you whisper like that,” Red noted, his hands lifting your breast, tongue smoothing over your irritated skin. “I bet you didn’t mind our quirk accident because you wanted something like this.”

Now that was definitely something you couldn’t disagree about.

But with the way your body was so desperately deprived and how there were two sources of knowledge on you. Knowing the perfect sensations on your sensitive parts of your body, you pushed them away.

Grey and turquoise blazed into your skin, but you huffed, grabbing them by the hands and pulling on them.

“I want the bed,” you affirm, your cheeks feeling warm, your eyes keeping on theirs. “We’re fucking on the bed.”

“Of course, my love,” they responded together. And the heat in your body seemed to multiple when you pushed through into the room. 

Guiding them into the bedroom, you didn’t release their hands until they were sitting down onto the bed—Red on your right, white on your left.

Their stares are expectant, already clouded with horny, lustful need when you let go of their hands. Before they could ask what was next, you leaned in, opposite hands pressing to each of their crotches, and they both groaned lightly in their chest. You palmed them through their clothes, your cunt throbbing with the fact that you enjoyed watching their hooded, lusting expressions bore into your figure. Biting down onto your lower lip, you stopped a tethering moan from escaping when both their hands grabbed onto your ass.

They fondled the flesh as you continued to palm them, the cock buried within their clothes growing harder and larger with every quick movement of your hand. They both were so hot and dangerously heavy hidden away in the confines of the pants, and you wanted nothing more than to be choking and stuffed full of them both.

But you don’t get your way just yet.

“On the bed,” Red suddenly commands, and you stop a squeak from embarrassingly ripping from your throat. You stumble on the large bed, and both Red and White shift so that there’s enough room for you to be perched between them. Ass on Whites side, face on Red’s, and you feel your body freeze when everything picks up speed.

White’s lips are on the back of your thigh, kissing and nibbling on the sensitive skin while his fingers take up rubbing your cunt again. Your body trembles under his ministrations, hips shifting, and bucking against him as he once again buries his fingers into your blistering core.

But with the moans singing from your lips, you felt transcended. The way that your eyes rolled to the back of your head with each shift of White’s fingers proving that point, you focused in on Red, who had shoved your breasts over the hem of your shirt. You whimpered loudly when his fingers pinched at both nipples, tugging at the pebbled flesh. 

“Such pretty noises,” Red whispered, his nose brushing against yours, and you throbbed with the need to be kissed. “Are you enjoying this?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “Please give me more, more, please.”

Red inhaled sharply, his eyes blazing like blue fire before finally, he crashed his lips against yours, unable to hold back anymore, and you cried in glorious acceptance. You kissed Red back with everything you had. Your lips slick with your joining, mixing saliva while he continued to press bruising, heated kisses to your mouth. Your hands at one point had attached themselves onto his biceps, and you found your fingernails to be digging through his skin, but Red didn’t care.

He continued to play with your hanging, sore tits, his tongue entering the barricade of your mouth as he kissed you again, and again, and again.

His name spilling from your mouth until you froze, your back tightening the second something more was happening behind you.

White’s finger, covered in the slick of your essence, was probing through your ass all while he continued to finger fuck your cunt.

“Aw, you do like it when my finger goes into your ass!” White chirped, his finger pressing further past your tight rim, sending your mind into a flurry of thoughts and feelings at the sensation of being stretched out, while you collapsed onto the mattress. Red abandoned you. “Your ass always looks so fucking hot when it takes in my finger. It’s like it's sucking me back in whenever I try to pull out. So. Fucking. Hot.”

You could do nothing but choke out White’s name the second the finger curled in your ass and the fingers buried in your cunt came together to press between the thin wall separating the two cavities, and you keened at the feeling.

“White!” you yelled, your eyebrows furrowed in your pleasure, your hips bucking back against his hands. “More! I need more!”

It was at that moment his fingers abandoned your holes, but before you could cry at the loss, Red was back in front of you, naked as the day he was born. But his cock was hard, pressed against his stomach, standing tall and erect for you to suck.

“Come on, angel,” Red spoke, tilting your chin up so that he may press another sizzling kiss to your mouth. “Play with my cock.”

Still, on your knees, your back arched, mouth entirely occupied with Red’s mouth, your hand blindly grabbed his cock and began to jerk him off. You kissed him harshly, thoroughly, not wanting to let him go without exploring and feeling every little thing you could offer while you run your hand up and down his length.

You fully moaned into his mouth when his fingers lightly brushed against your neck, showing how sensitive you are. He runs his hand all the way down to your hips and latches onto your ass cheek. You mewl against him, wondering just why he was doing that when something hot and wet pressed against your cunt.

Breaking off the kiss immediately, you turned around to see White’s face buried into your ass, but his tongue was meeting your cunt with every languid lick.

“Shit!” you curse, your hips bucking and moving to better find White’s tongue against your core. But before you could find your spot, his tongue abandons your cunt and presses back against your tight, tight rim.

Trembling, your eyes roll to the back of your head, all while Red reclaims your lips.

Your hand encompassing his cock began to pick up in speed as White seemed to interchange between tongue fucking your ass and cunt. Whimpering needs only resonated from your mouth into Red’s as you jacked him off sloppily, messily at heightened speeds while you begged for more.

It didn’t take long before they both pulled away from you, and you in your heat daze, teared up as you watched both Red and White step onto the floor, their twin, identical cocks out, leaking with precum that called your name. You didn't need to be told what to do at this point as you stumbled out of bed, falling to your knees right between them.

With Red’s cock in your left hand, you pulled him into your mouth, your right hand expertly, yet blindly jerking White off. You pushed your head as far down as it could go along Red’s cock, your eyes trying to keep on his the entire time. 

Relishing in the fact that his cock went unchanged, your tongue swirled around Red’s cock, your head bobbing along his length, and Red smirked down at you, pressing the tears in your eyes away. Pulling away with a string of saliva connecting his head to your lip, you alternated onto White’s cock, your left hand continuing to jerk off Red.

White groaned at the sudden heat, immersing against his length, his hips snapping into your mouth as you took him all the way in. You had been dating Shouto for a few years now. You were definitely capable of taking him in your mouth in one go without trouble. But it just felt so different with one of your hands stroking off Red, and White’s hands grabbing your head while he thrust into you.

Before you could settle on White’s cock, you switched back to Red, who decided to command your every little instruction.

It quickly became a game between Red and White on who could make you choke and moan the loudest as they fucked your mouth and throat mercilessly. You, thankfully, were entirely enjoying it, your soaked pussy rubbing against your tight panties, and you rutted against the fabric trying to relive the building, fast pressure in your core. 

“Fuck,” White snarled when Red had you completely choked against his cock. His cock was shoved as far down your throat as it could manage, and he kept you there. Painful tears falling from your eyes while your throat struggled to remain relaxed despite the burning lack of oxygen. “Keep her there, Red. Don’t let her move.”

Red, who was only entranced by you for quite some time, looked up with amusement at his other half.

“What, you like this?” Red asked a taunt hidden in his voice but was buried under so much more throbbing lust. “You like seeing y/n choking against a cock?”

You whimpered against Red, your throat muscles fluttering and flaring along his length-- what was he planning?

“Who wouldn’t want to see y/n like this,” White breathed, and you shook at the nonverbal agreement that passed between the two of them.

You whined at the unknown, finally being released from Red’s cock, and you spluttered and coughed, drool and saliva drenching your chin while you turned towards White, ready to do the same. But you shrieked, the wind knocking out of you when they both picked you up from the floor and tossing you onto the mattress. You bounced when you landed. 

Both Red and White quickly moved to remove your clothes until you were naked as well, their eyes glimmering with their treaty, a million ideas undoubtedly pouring through their mind. 

White is on you first. He joins you onto the mattress, his lips pressing and languidly moving against yours, and you moan against him.

“We’re going to start fucking you now, baby,” White whispers against your mouth, his thumb running up against your still spit slicked chin. With just his finger alone, he moves you so that you’re on your hands and knees before him, waiting like an obedient pet. Your eyes flutter open, just barely opened so that you could meet his stormy grey eyes while his thumb slips over your bottom lip and into your mouth. “I hope you’re ready to be fucked… Red?” he called, his thumb pressing down on your tongue, instinctively flaring your gag reflex.

“Hm?” Red answered back, and you stilled when something hot and heavy smacked against your ass. 

Once, twice.

“Fuck her right.”

Silence.

You whimpered against White’s thumb, your eyes watering while you studied his determined, playful face. There's a chuckle from behind you, and you shiver at the fact that you could practically smell the knowing smirk on his face.

“Obviously.”

And then it happens.

Red slams his cock into your awaiting, wet pussy with a pleased groan while you lurched forward onto White at the mighty snap of Red’s hips. Naturally so, you screamed Red's name, your pussy singing in absolute love over the fact that he’s buried entirely within you, undoubtedly claiming you once again.

Before you could sing your praises for Red, White’s shut you up by replacing his thumb with his cock, and you’re forced silent.

When they worked against each other, they were annoying, irritating, and often horrifying, but together? Well, as Red’s cock shoved more profound and deeper into your womb, and White’s cock conquested your throat, you hummed with the pleasure they brought. Together they were powerful, commanding, and unbreakable, and if the sounds of your wet pussy and choking mouth were to prove it, it was more than just a fact. 

You struggled to keep up with Red’s slamming hips, the girth of his cock stretching you out in an all too familiar way, and White driving cock that choked you out every time you moved. You felt dizzy with the thumping, tingling pleasure, your hand that held onto White’s hips clutching his skin, while your other one manipulated and circled your clit.

You wanted to cum. You wanted to so badly.

“You sound so hot choking on his cock,” Red laughed, his hand coming down to spank your jiggling ass with a single, powerful thwack. You bristled at the sensation. “Do more, sweetheart, I know you can do more; we’ve experienced you doing more.”

You garbled as White smirked down at you, your eyes just barely open enough to see the knowing look in his eyes.

“Use that little slut mouth of yours better, baby,” White taunted, his hand coming to pat your hollowed cheeks roughly, quickly, in a few stinging slaps. 

This is what you liked, you realized as you pulled away from his length, mouth swallowing his balls with heightened eagerness, your hand rubbing his length as you did so. White moaned your name, his head dropping in his pleasure as you did so. 

It must have done something for Red, too, because his fingers dug into the skin on your waist, his powerful thrusts becoming quicker, shorter thrusts that moved you against his cock with rattling power and craving lust. You whimpered against White’s balls and cried out in pleasure-filled pain the moment Red spanked you again, and again, and again.

Your cunt was fluttering, squeezing, and beating in time to your heartbeat. The pleasure within you grew from a light warmth to a blazing heat. You cried for more, your knees and thighs shaking for more.

More friction, more fucking, more of Shouto.

“Turn around, you little cockslut,” White grinned, removing you from his balls. “It’s my turn to fuck your pretty little cunt.”

Whining, you did as you were told, your limbs feeling like lead as Red smoothed back the hair falling on to your face.

Before you were ready, not that you minded, their cocks reclaimed your holes.

It was different this time.

They fucked you differently, you realized when White enjoyed pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting back into you. His strokes and powerful thrusts send the coil in your stomach to grow tighter and tighter. But Red, fuck, Red had his fingers in your mouth, choking you with them as he slapped your cheek with his cock, his precum mixed with your slick smearing all over your cheek as he did so. 

“I want to make sure that you realize that me putting my cock in your mouth is a blessing,” Red coldly smirked, his eyes blazing with a whole other story. But despite it all, you nodded your head quickly. Altogether agreeing with the claim that you needed to earn his cock in your mouth again. 

“I kno thath,” you whine against his fingers, saliva shamelessly dribbling past your lips, your mouth closing to suck on his fingers. “I promith I’ll apprethciate your giff.”

He could try all he wanted, but Red was whipped for you too.

His cock immediately replaced his fingers, slamming to the depths of your throat, all while the wet noises of your throat and choking voices joined the squelching of your cunt. Your eyes rolled in your pleasure, your cunt thrumming with energy as Red’s hands encircled your throat, choking you while he fucked straight down your throat.

“You looked so pretty earlier when you couldn’t breathe,” Red snarled, his cock twitching in your throat the same time White’s cock twitched in your cunt. “I’m just -- fuck do that again -- trying to get you there… faster… Your throat really feels like your fucking pussy at times, shit.”

You whimper at that comparison as you forcefully clench your throat and cunt around both of your boyfriend's cock. 

But you vibrate when White’s finger traces your rim, his finger not disappearing into your wrinkled muscle, but stimulating it well past teasing. You pull off Red’s cock with a spluttering cough, your eyes burning, but you find White’s gaze immediately. 

“What’s going on, sweetness?” White asked, his eyes glimmering with knowledge of what you want already, but the slick fucker just had to ask.

Too bad you weren’t ashamed of shit around him.

“I want you to fuck my ass,” you moan, your hips slamming back against White’s still shifting cock, your hand clenching one of your asscheeks as you split yourself open for White. “Please fuck my ass.”

“Fuck!” they both seemed to growl, and without so much as a break, White switches from your ass and buries his length slowly into your needy, tight ass.

The pitchy, unstoppable moan from your mouth sends both Red and White into whimpering messes as you collapse onto the mattress, your chest heaving with your heightened stimulus. It was starting to hurt, your lack of orgasm, you just needed a bit more done to cum, and you wanted to.

“Where’s my dick?” White finally growls at you as he bottoms out entirely within you. You tremble at the question, body shaking with every stroke of his cock he makes afterward. “Where is it?”

“I-In my ass!” you wail, your ass clenching around him, trying to make him feel this heated pleasure as strongly as you were. “It’s in m-my ass!”

“Do you love my cock in your ass?” White snarls, his hands gripping your waist and slamming you back onto him, your ass squeezing with the sensation. You can’t speak; your mind is overloaded with feeling and emotion. “Why do I even bother? I know you love my cock in your ass.”

Red comes back into the equation, his hands grabbing your jaw and pressing your mouth against his into a searing kiss. You can hardly kiss him back, your mouth pathetically hanging open as he kisses your teeth, mouth, tongue. So, it shouldn’t shock you that in your near blissful blackout, Red hands your limp arms to White, who holds onto them.

His grasp and hold on your arms elevates you slightly off the bed, your back arched, and breasts exposed as he begins to jackhammer into your ass. You want to scream, you want to shudder and cry your sensations to the world, but Red interrupts once more by pressing his swollen, purpling head into your mouth, silencing you with gags and chokes while they both use you.

They both drive into you with ferocity and power, your body nearly limp and twitching with your ever still denied orgasm that refuses to back down, and the way the lack of oxygen makes you spin as Red’s balls clash against your throat in quick, succinct, patterns.

“Sit down, White,” Red snaps at White, and White, who was ever so entranced at how your ass was swallowing his cock, dumbly nods. “Y/n is about to cum, we need to make sure she cums correctly.”

You whine against Red’s cock, unsure if you heard him correctly when White drops your arms. But instead of falling forward as you thought you would, his relaxed arms wrapped around your waist tightly, bringing you down with him.

Your back was pressed against his chiseled chest. And you moaned at the sensation this angle brought in terms of depth and stretch. Your mouth, freed from Red’s cock, opened in a loud, scratchy moan, undoubtedly raspy from the abuse it went through from the vigorous face fucking.

“R-Red!” you cried, your legs shaking when White hooked his arms under your knees and spreading them out, exposing your wet, slick core to Red, who was merely watching. You shifted pathetically, wanting to have both of them on you, not just one. “Red, please!”

But, White’s hips began to thrust upward, resuming his fucking of your asshole, and you howled in pleasure as he breathed heavily, gasping in your right ear. But as your legs trembled, unsure if White would be able to keep your legs in such position, Red pressed on top of you, his weight keeping your legs spread, and his cock quickly slamming within your cunt.

You had one hand buried in White’s hair, the other slipping behind Red’s back when he pressed onto you. The second their cocks rubbed against each other through the oh so thin wall between your ass and your cunt, you screeched. The hand in White’s hair tugging at his roots harshly, and the hand on Red’s back drawing bloody mountains on his skin.

But this didn’t stop them, the slight pain you gave them doing nothing but making them growl in your ear, making your eyes cross in your oblivion while they continued to fuck you.

Sandwiched between them, your breasts crushed by Red’s chest, and your back buried into White’s chest, White let go of one of your legs that immediately latched around Red’s waist. Your eyes crossed, rolling to the back of your head, your mouth agape, but no noise coming out as every massive, hard thrust sent your soul into a new dimension. White’s hand sneaking between Red’s drilling hips and your cunt to pinch and pull at your clit as you shook like a leaf in a windstorm. You came without realizing it, your walls clenching like a vice against Red’s cock, and your ass clenching around White’s in tandem to your orgasm. Both of them moaning against your salty sweat skin, but neither one of them stopped.

Faster and faster, they thrust into you, gaining such speed and power that you felt akin to a ragdoll as they fucked you. They praised you for taking them both at the same time, senseless names, and wordless praise as you took them without a single wince of pain. You were theirs, they claimed, and they were yours. 

The sounds of their cock drilling into the wet caverns of your cunt and ass, the sticking shivering sound of their balls smacking your ass and cunt.

It was so much, growing to be more and more, until your orgasm was once again growing as you attempted to shift your weak, still trembling hips up and down their length, wanton gasps shrill on your tongue. Your body begging for more.

“Gonna cum,” they whispered together, his deep, raspy voice filling both of your ears, and you wailed as your own orgasm tipped once again.

“Cum in me, please cum in me!” you begged with everything you had.

And with your pleading heavy in the air, they came with you. You moaned at the feeling of the hot, sticky thick ropes of cum filling up both your holes, the cocks spasming uncontrollably within you as their hips continued to ride out their orgasms. Your chest heaves as their snapping hips become rolling thrusts until finally, they stop.

All three of you still joined, all three of you sweaty and tired.

When you pass out, you can barely hear them saying goodbye.

…

…

You wake up, your body sore and bruised around midnight.

You groan, stretching out your neck as you realize that there is no body on top of you or beneath you as that was definitely how you all had fallen asleep a few hours ago. Panic filled you when the bed was empty, and you rushed to your feet, cursing when your knees buckled out from under your weight.

Crashing to the floor, you groaned as you lay there.

“What are you doing on the floor?” an all too familiar voice asked you, and you looked up to see if it was Red or White.

You blinked when instead the once two distinctive heads blurred into one, and you stared at your finally normal boyfriend.

“S-Shouto!” you cried, your body weakly pressing off the floor, your arms stretching to you.

Shouto smiled warmly, softly, the perfect in-between of the facial expressions Red and White would give you.

“I’m back, sorry for scaring you like that,” he whispered as he joined you on the floor, letting your arms wrap him into a firm hug, not wanting to let go as you pathetically began to cry.

The two of you lay naked together on the floor, his soft apologies gathering in your ear as you held him tightly, having missed him entirely.

“Do you remember?” you eventually asked long after Shouto managed to bring you back into the bed. You lay curled into his side, your fingers tracing the marks on his body that you had left on both Red and White. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes… and I remember how it all felt too.”

“Ew… perv…”

“Try that again? Ms. ‘I-want-your-cock-in-my-ass’.”

“SHOUTO!”

[shatteredatthealtarofwinchester]

Umm, wait. It's more a 15x20 rant than an analysis. I'll call it... a ranalysis. 😏

I just saw J*reds last online panel again, where he called the finale "magical full circle storytelling". 15x20 is his "favourite episode ever" because he "is a fan of good storytelling". Uh-huh... Okay. So the following just was built on pure rage. This makes it more of a rant than an analysis. As usual. You guys know me.

Well. There are various possibilities here, Jared. Possibility A is, you are lying, what I do not believe. To lie that obvious you have to be a talented actor, which you are not. Possibility B is, you really think that way. You believe, the finale was "magical full circle storytelling" and you actually loved it, it was indeed your favourite episode. This again brings me to the only conclusion: You have no fucking idea about good storytelling, not even decent storytelling.

Lets look at every single ending, shall we?

Dean. We all know you think Deans death was a "success story." You think that Dean "ultimately gave his life for his number one on planet." I am sitting here, laughing in pain. First of all, let me say that Dean didn't died for Sam, Jared. He didn't took a bullet for Sam or sacrificed himself or whatsoever. He died in the most ridiculous accident I've ever seen. But lets go back to the very start.

Dean’s childhood was highly abusive. Dean was 4 years old when he saw his mother burning alive and learned that monsters are real. In that age he developed PTSD and stopped talking. Dean had a childhood with a father that was an alcoholic and physically and mentally abusive, who had believed that Dean had a “killer instinct". When Dean was about 6 years old, John forced him into a nurturing role for Sam. In the same age Dean was forced into the soldiers role as well when John taught him how to shoot and hunt. Dean had to obey orders without questioning. If he acted “out of line,” (aka something John didn’t like) John chewed him out or left them alone. Dean was trained to be Daddy’s blunt instrument. Dean gave up his own life to keep Sam safe, because he had no other choice. More than a brother Dean had to be a father and a mother to Sam. He suppressed everything, every psychological pain, every emotion, he just lived to protect Sam and to obey as Johns blunt soldier. Short: Dean gave up HIMSELF for Sam and John. Not because Dean wanted to, because he was forced into it! Dean hated himself, he was suicidal. He was convinced he isn’t worthy of anything, especially not being loved. Dean never had a life for his own, never had a choice, never had a chance, never had own original thoughts, never felt safe or loved. He was used to being left. He felt like he was nothing. Worthless. He was dead inside. Broken. You get what I mean, Jared? Since you own a mental health campaign, you should. And guess what Dean did? He kept fighting. Despite everything, he kept fighting. And his mindset slowly changed. He understood that his father was an abusive bastard, he unterstood that he was forced into a life he never wanted. He understood that he is more than that, that he is not like John. He changed. He opened up. He even wanted to retire. And now it gets interesting, because something happened that REALLY is the start of magical full circle storytelling. Something in Deans mind clicked while Cas' confession. His confession was fundamental to Dean to finally accept his own goodness and the value of his life and love, of his identity. It was the moment of breaking free of the structure that had controlled and corrupted him his entire life. It was the only way out of his abusive and traumatizing cage to experience something for his own the very first time. For the first time in his life he had a chance. A choice. The start of his very own life. Free will, baby! Well, no. Because exactly in that moment he stumbled into a nail and died. Do you even realize how dumb this is? Do you even realize what you did? Wait, it gets worse. Yeah, that's possible, even if you dont believe it. In heaven he goes right back to the life he has spent his whole journey learning to free himself from: Left only with the persons he had been forced, time and time again, to sacrifice his identity, goals, and soul for. None of the family, support, or love, nothing he has built or chosen for himself remains. This is not magical full circle storytelling, Jared. This is abysmal pointless butchering. This has NOTHING, not a single percent of magical or good storytelling! YOU call that magical? YOU call that a success? Seriously, what shit are you on? If it would've been full circle storytelling, there is not one single fucking possibility that Dean would've died in the end. I don't know whats going on in your twisted brain, but Deans death never was and never will be a success. To make it magical full circle storytelling, he MUST have been the one who survives and overcomes his trauma (and raise a certain someone from perdition.)

Sam. He's actually the one who kinda got the best ending, huh? I mean, it was fucking horrific, but it was the best if you compare it to the others. When Sam was young, he wanted a normal life far away from hunting, while the truth is, Sam always was more like John than Dean ever will be. Over time his mindset clearly changed. He even said: "When Dean came to get me at school, I told myself, one last job, you know, (...) it was always one more job and then I was gonna go back to law and to my life. I guess, I really understand now that THIS is my life. And I love it." Sam couldn't imagine a normal life anymore. He had the chances for that and he declined. He loved hunting. He loved working and making progress with the BMOL, he very much enjoyed being a MOL and even took the lead often. I can clearly picture Sam as the lead of a rebuilt version of the MOL, that would've made sense. What did Sam get? Right, the ending he didn't wanted anymore, but since we yeet every single development of every single character out of the window, Sam has to be Season 1 Sam again, BUT with a fancy party wig! And there he is! And what a happy life he lives, exactly what he wanted, woohoo! So much joy, so much fun! Oh look, there is BlurryWife™, who Jared made sure is not Eileen, because “Dean wouldn’t want Sam to be with Eileen”. But wait, didn't Dean wanted Sam to be with Eileen? Didn't Dean literally said: "If it was to work, Eileen, you know... She gets it, she gets us, she gets the life. You could do worse. And she could certainly do better, like SO much better. I'm happy for you, Sammy." Yeah, NO. This was just a writing AND acting AND producing mistake and had no matter at all. *cough* So... As you can see, magical storytelling strikes again. I can feel the magic, I can feel the full circle, it's... Amazing...

Castiel. Castiels story was magical, it was mindblowing. I've never in my entire life seen such a meaningful and deep storyline and I mean this. It's fucking massive. There is this blunt angel soldier, one of the post powerful forces, who was built to blindly obey, who lived for aeons of years, who wasn't supposed to feel anything, but he fell for a broken, suicidal, abused human who never felt loved or worthy the very moment he touched him. He fell so hard he rebelled against his own race, against his own family, against everything he had without any safety. He was the ONLY one in Chuck-knows-how-many universes who GREW outside of Chucks CONTROL! His love was so fucking massive, it couldn't be controlled by the God who built every-fucking-thing. Chuck built millions(?) of parallel universes, heaven, hell, life, death, purgatory, the empty, he created every single being, the light, darkness, every single angel, demon, leviathan, monster, animal, plant, sea, blade of grass, every centimeter of mountains, the four seasons, emotions, what the fuck ever. Everything you can ever think of, Chuck created it. And he controlled it. In every single one of his fucking millions of universes. But not Castiel.This is actually not possible. You can't outrun god. You can't outrun the one who creates, writes and controlles everything. But Cas did. Out of love. And not only that, you also imply that what happened between Dean and Cas was the only thing  that was real. Everything else was corrupted, controlled, manipulated, written by Chuck. But what happened between Dean and Cas, he couldn't affect.

Seeing Cas standing there, crying, confessing his love to Dean actually even makes me think that Dean made Cas human. Dean completed Cas. Cas didn't simply said "I love you", he actually said "In all existing universes, in all millions, all aeons of years, you are my only happiness." And Cas completed Dean. He freed Dean. While Dean was used to being left, was used to feeling worthless and unlovable, Cas saw Dean exactly the way he is and chose to stay. With every obstacle, every difficulty he loved him even more and yes, freed him from the abusive structure that had controlled and corrupted him his entire life. Something that no one else could, not his parents, not Amara, not God, not even Sam. Beautiful, isn't it? Unique. Mindblowing. Pure. You enjoyed it? Let's fuck this up in 3...2...1...

Castiels story ended exactly the same way it started. A blunt angel who doesn't care about people and feelings, blindly carrying out instructions from a new God, obeying heaven. No progress. They threw away 12 years of character development and managed to give him the same stupid and senseless ending like they did with Dean. Dean died and Cas... Wasn't there?! WHAT!? There is no single fucking way Cas wouldn't save Dean or wouldn't be there when Dean enters heaven! There. Is. No. Fucking. Way! The way they represented Cas in the end doesn't only imply that Dean isn't important to Cas anymore, he even ended up exactly the same way as if Season 4-15 wouldn't have happened. The ending is exactly the same! He's with God in heaven, supporting him with instructions, not caring about anything else.

Okay, I got it. Summarizing you can say: Jareds "magical full circle storytelling" is to yeet 95% of the past 15 years. No other characters matter, the story itself doesn't matter, every single characters development doesn't matter, it even doesn't matter what the brothers really want, they don't get it anyway.

Okay. But that's not all. As if this wasn't bad enough, they didn't just butchered ... EVERYTHING, they also salted and burnt every single Mantra they ever stood for. I'll make these short, I promise!

Team Free Will. *snort* Dean couldn't escape his fate, he always believed he'll die on a hunt as Daddys blunt instrument and he did. He kept fighting to die exactly the way he felt he was "supposed to". Message? No matter how hard you keep fighting, no matter how long you'll keep it up, you can't escape your fate. Sam couldn't change his fate, he ended how he started. Cas couldn't change his fate, he ended how he started, same for Jack, he ended how he was supposed to. YEET THE FREE WILL, NONE OF THEM CAN CHANGE ANYTHING!

Family don't end with  blood. The biggest lie that has ever been told. Do I even have to explain that? No need, right? Don't make me wanna throw up again, please. We all know that 15x20 blasted "Family don't end with blood" in millions of pieces.

Always keep fighting. THE AUDACITY to praise that while Dean is dying! After everything Dean has dealt with, It makes me wanna scream. Dean kept fighting, he always kept fighting, no matter how hard it was, no matter what forced him to his knees, he stood up again, and if he wasn't able to stand up, he crawled. He kept fighting no matter what, despite everything. His mindset changed. He wanted to live, he wanted to experience things, feelings and people differently or even for the first time. He changed. He wanted to retire, toes in the sand. He knew he earned it. Thats why he kept fighting. For what? To die the very first moment he had a free will. To die the very first moment he had a choice, had a life to build for himself. Always keep fighting, but the moment you come close to what you want, what you fought for, you die. It's been more than 3 months and I am having tears in my eyes while typing this. As for Dean, no matter how hard you fight, no matter how long you fight, you don't reach what you deserve anyway. Give up. As for Sam, AKF leeds to Emptiness. Grief. Psychological Trauma. Mental illness. Absolutely nothing worth fighting for.

I wanna go cry now, bye.

[toothpastecanyon]

A Name From the Mailbox, Chapter 2

Dipper finds out the author's name before Not What He Seems. It's not the person he expected.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

The Gravity Falls Public Library. Dipper didn’t find himself going here as often as he’d thought he would. Sure, there were books, but whoever the librarian was they certainly weren’t stacking them in any kind of system; it was impossible to find anything you were looking for besides dusty magazines heaped up on coffee tables.

But for all the library’s shortcomings, it did have one thing the Shack didn’t. It had computers.

“Is that a dial up sound, Dipper?”

He shrugged at his sister. “Maybe? I dunno what that sounds like.” He sat back. “Wish it’d load faster. Ugh, I swear these things are cursed to be slow or something like that.”

“Oooo, curses!”

“Just need to wait for it to load…” Dipper took out a notebook. “If I can’t have the journal, fine. I don’t need that. I don’t need him. I’ll find it out myself.”

“You’re muttering, bro bro.” Mabel poked his face. “So what’re we looking up, anyway? I thought you said all the websites for magic stuff are ‘unnacurate’ and ‘disturbing’.”

“It’s innacurate actually, Mabel.” He pushed her hand away as the computer finally loaded. “And I’m not looking for Gravity Falls stuff. I’m looking for Stan.”

“What’s he doing on the internet? I don’t think he knows what it is.”

Dipper started typing. “No, but maybe we can find out something about him on there.”

“Ooo, like secrets!”

“Yeah, like secrets.” Dipper made a face as he put in ‘Mystery Shack Gravity Falls’ and got a few sites with mixed reviews. “Oh you gotta look at this, Mabel. Someone wrote, ‘A friend recommended I bring my family here. We spent five minutes inside, and in that time the owner charged an exorbitant entrance fee, scared my children with some horrific taxidermied duck-rat thing, and then made up some fake ‘early exit charge’ when we tried to leave! We are pretty sure he picked our pockets too, but the police in this town are useless. I’m out a wallet and a friend.”

Mabel giggled. “I’m pretty sure Stan has no idea about these! Oh, this one’s from when I was boss! Ahem, ‘The last time I was here an old man was giving the tour, but when we came by the manager appeared to be a young girl. Everything appeared to be slightly destroyed too? When I asked for a refund because part of the roof fell on me, she told me to shut my yap. Other than that, great as always. Love the money bag.” She gave a fist pump. “Aww yes, I got us a five out of five! Let’s read more, this is fun!”

“Actually, Mabel, we’ve gotta keep looking.”

“Awww.”

Dipper tapped on the keyboard. “Okay, I guess the Mystery Shack doesn’t turn up much. How about… just his name?”

He typed that in, and sat back as it loaded.

“Alright, Stan. Let’s see what you’re hiding…”

______________________________________________________________

It was late at night when Stan snuck his way back into the Shack. He opened the front door as quietly as he could, and shut it behind himself, making a face at every creek. He took off his black mask, his leather gloves, and stashed them under the register before moving to the blinds. He kept a close eye on the parking lot as he drew them closed; it didn’t look like he’d been followed.

Ugh. Stan didn’t like messing with the feds, but it wasn’t like anyone else had any radioactive waste handy. He’d scope out the place a few more times, just to be safe… but that was for another night.

With a big sigh, Stan headed over to the vending machine. He raised his arm to input the code, but something told him to look around first. His eye caught on a small darkness on the base of the staircase, and he paused a second before pressing the code for a candy bar. He picked it up, unwrapped it, and munched on it as he headed for the living room.

“Grunkle Stan.”

There it is. He turned on the light.

“Oh, hey Dipper. Having fun standing in the dark like that?”

Dipper had his arms crossed. “You’re out late.”

“Yeah, ’cause I’m old and I do what I want.” He sank into the chair. “What’s up, kid? If you’re gonna ask for your journal back you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“No, that’s not why I’m here.” He pointed to a large stack of papers on the side table. “I found this.”

“Huh? Oh, you didn’t use the copier, did you? Paper’s expensive, kid.”

“No, I printed it out at the library.” He made a face. “It was like twenty dollars. Now look!”

“Ugh, I already sat down, kid. Can’t we- Oof!” He grunted as the pile was dumped in his lap. “Watch it, that’s a lot of paper! You’re gonna have to summarise whatever this is, because I am not-”

“It’s your thesis, Grunkle Stan!”

Grunkle Stan paused, and looked up at Dipper. He looked very, very serious, and he came a step closer.

“Well?”

“Well… well what? Thesis?” Stan tried to stand up, but the papers kept him down. “I don’t know what you mean, Dipper. Seriously, I’ve never seen this before in my life-”

“You wrote it!”

“What?”

“Look!” He grabbed the top page and stabbed a finger at the author line. “Stanford Pines! All summer long you said you didn’t even go to college, but you’ve got a PhD! You wrote a thesis about anomalous sightings in the western United States! Admit it - you are the author!”

Stan found himself shrinking back; he had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to be able to brush this off. “Wh-where’d you even get that from?”

“I found your college online. Apparently they’re still writing about your thesis since it’s the only nationally ranked one in their history.” Dipper clicked his pen. “You’re, you’re a genius, Grunkle Stan! I-I have so many questions, like why didn’t you tell us? Why’d you stop writing the journals? Where are the other two?”

“I… I…” He took a deep breath. He had to get control of this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, ki-”

“Oh come on-”

“I don’t! Look, there’s obviously been some kind of mix up, it’s not like Stan Pines is a rare name-”

“Already thought of that.” Dipper held up an article. “I found this piece about how you used your grant money to build the Mystery Shack. It’s even got a photo - it’s you.”

It was a gutpunch to see Stanford’s college photo shoved in his face, but he tried to swallow it. “Kid-”

“I don’t understand why you won’t just admit it. I know you don’t want us messing with the supernatural, but all summer long I’ve been reading your journal, trying to solve the mysteries of this town. The author was a huge one - I-I was kind of worried I’d never find out, or I’d find out he was dead or something, but it’s you!” He grinned. “And now I know, we can work together! You don’t have to keep pretending! You can trust me with this!”

Stan looked down at his nephew’s face, and gave a deep sigh. There was no easy way out of this. With a bit of struggle, he hefted the thesis off his lap and onto the floor, then put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

“Dipper, listen. I’m not the author.” Stan saw him open his mouth and quickly continued. “I’m not, okay? I know you like your mysteries, but just this once, could you please just take my word on this one?” He made a face. “I don’t want you or your sister getting hurt. So just forget about it, okay?”

Dipper frowned at him, and for a moment Stan didn’t think that was gonna work - it was a long shot, anyway. But then something seemed to click in his mind, and he stepped back.

“Forget…” he said. “Grunkle Stan, do you know about the Society of the Blind Eye?”

“The what?”

“It’s-“ He reached under his arm and rolled his eyes when he realized there was no journal. “Ugh, I’ll draw it.”

He grabbed a paper from the pile and started sketching something out. Stan stood there, a little confused.

“Sounds like a cult. Did you join a cult? Ugh, your folks are gonna kill me.”

“It’s this!” Dipper shoved a paper in his face - a crossed out eye, a symbol Stan remembered seeing somewhere in the journals. “Have you seen this before?”

“Kid-”

“Ugh, that doesn’t prove anything, though. You might’ve forgotten that too.” He clicked his pen, and then took off for the stairs. “I’ll be back!”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Stan called out, but he was already gone. He threw his hands up in the air. “Great. Perfect. Hey, can you come back down and explain what all that was? Dipper?”

No reply. Stan frowned; he made to follow, but his foot caught on the stack of papers. He caught himself on the wall, and turned back to look at the scattered pile. Each page was lit by TV static, stark white in the light, and pitch black in the shadows. He narrowed his eyes at that picture of Stanford, that stupid thesis.

“Fine.” He gave the mess a kick and stalked into the gift shop. “Fine.”

Dipper wasn’t going to stumble into this so close to the finish line. He’d worked too hard for too long. If the kid was so intent on figuring him out, he’d just have to work faster.

He gave a long look around before entering the code. The venting machine swung open with a puff of air, and he shut it quickly behind him before marching down the steps.

No more scoping out. It was time to finish the job.

[bangchanzz]

Lover’s Paradise

CHAPTER 2

JEON JUNGKOOK X READER

Summary: Idol!Jungkook and Celebrity!Y/N have been friends for years. For both of them, their friendship has always bordered on more than friends, but neither of them are brave enough to take the leap of faith and confess. But when Y/N hosts the boys of BTS at her suave LA mansion and somehow finds herself sharing a bed with Jungkook, who harbors a few dark secrets of his own, things spin out of control. Tensions rise as she shows them a glimpse of her suave superstar lifestyle, and secrets come out that could change people’s lives forever.

Warnings: Severe depression, and anxiety. Mentions of suicide. ANGST. Mentions of sex. Heavy alcohol and drug use

Word Count: 4.4K (for this chapter)

Author’s Note: Here’s chapter 2! Things are starting to get a little more spicy ;) This chapter also hurt me deeply to write because thinking about sad JK makes me sad but anyway... Let me know what you think!

Lover’s Paradise Masterlist

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CHAPTER 2

YOUR POV

Dinner was… Eventful.

Ok, it was a mess.

For some reason, Brandon had thought barbequed pork ribs was a good idea, which lead to a kitchen covered in rib juice and barbeque sauce and nine boys covered in the same.

Jungkook had eventually come down after you had made some excuse about him feeling a little sick from the plane.

Brandon had given you a little look that said he knew you were lying, but when you gave him a subtle look of urgency right back, he decided to leave it be. Tae had also given you a funny look, and you didn’t miss when five minutes later he quietly slipped upstairs and came back twenty minutes after with the youngest in tow.

Jungkook had come downstairs looking like someone had sucked the life out of him, but he was pretending he had it together.

It made your heart beat funny in your chest, but you ignored it and instead wordlessly handed him a beer and went back to chopping vegetables.

The growing atmosphere seemed to pull him from whatever depression he had sunk into, at least for now, and after a few beers he was laughing and messing around in the pool with the rest of him.

As Brandon held court on the patio, standing over his grill-throne, you found yourself alone in the kitchen with Taehyung.

You set down the plate you were washing to watch him grab another beer from the refrigerator.

“What’s up with Jungkook?” you asked casually.

He froze, his hand hovering over the beer bottle, and turned to face you.

“Nothing,” he rasped.

“Bullshit, Tae. I don’t believe it.”

Taking the beer out and shutting the fridge, your friend leaned against the counter and studied his hands. “I told him he should tell you,” he muttered under his breath.

“Tell me what?” When Taehyung said nothing, you pressed on. “What’s the scar on his shoulder from? Tell me, Tae. Please. I’m worried.”

“He fell.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “He said as much. But I’m asking how he fell.”

Taehyung took a long sip of his beer before resting his gaze on you. “I’m not supposed to say anything. He asked me not to.”

You sighed. You supposed it was good that he had such loyal friends around him. They’d make sure he didn’t do something… extreme. “Fine. But just-“

He cut you off. “However, he���s not listening to us. We just can’t seem to…”

It was then you saw the silver lining his eyes and the tense lines of his body as he held back sobs. You moved to stand next to him, taking his large hand in yours and squeezing it. “Tae, you don’t have to say anything…”

“No,” the older boy said, drying his eyes with his free hand. “No, I think you need to hear this because maybe you can help him. We can’t seem to get through to him, but given your history maybe you can…”

“You mean my depression,” you guessed. “He’s depressed,” you said, choking on the last word a bit.

Taehyung nodded slightly. “The scar on his shoulder… He tried to kill himself.”

Every cell in your body turned to ice. Suddenly you were looking at Taehyung, but you weren’t really seeing him. Instead, you were remembering every vile and intrusive thought that had ever crossed your mind and how much it had taken to overcome it. Hell, you were still overcoming it if the daily pills and the weekly visits to a therapist were any indication.

But you knew you could do it. You had come this far, and you had become stronger for it. But Jungkook… You thought back to the cheeky boy you had met for the first time two years ago, you thought of his smiles and his laughter and his carefree attitude. That boy… You weren’t sure that boy could go through what you had and come out still able to smile.

“The scar,” Tae continued, unaware of your internal strife, “was from Namjoon tackling him on the roof of the BigHit building where he tried to jump. He landed wrong and messed up his shoulder so bad it needed surgery… But I guess that’s better than being dead.”

You didn’t think Jungkook thought the same way.

“How long ago was this?” You asked, your throat tightening.

“Four months ago.”

You closed your eyes. In your head you were running through every conversation, every joke, every meme you had sent back and forth with him four months ago and asked yourself why, why didn’t I see it?

But you caught yourself, remembering that there’s no use in dwelling it the past. It solves nothing. Instead of worrying about how you could’ve stopped him then, you should be worrying about how to prevent the same thing from happening again in the future.

“Thank you for telling me,” you managed.

Tae nodded, still trying to master himself. “Just don’t… tell anyone, ok? And maybe don’t tell him I told you. I’m not supposed to say anything, but I think that maybe you could help him.”

You nodded. “I won’t say anything.”

“Y/N?”

You looked at your friend, meeting his brown eyes filled with concern and… fear.

“Please,” Taehyung breathed, “Help him.”

You only nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without breaking into tears.

You didn’t bother to tell Taehyung that only Jungkook could help himself, that depression wasn’t like having the flu and you couldn’t just prescribe some pills and have it disappear, or that it was nothing like the romanticized version society projected and no amount of overused Pinterest quotes or a few “I love you’s” could make a person feel like life is actually worth living.

The best you had to offer was your story, but honestly that was even more depressing. And then there was the fact that you were still healing yourself, and so no, you didn’t have all the answers, you just had the answers to your own experiences which wouldn’t necessarily align with his.

Because truth be told you were still walking out of the darkest part of your life, and you realized that you might do more harm than good to both yourself and him.

But he was your friend, and he was hurting. So maybe you would try talking to him, if it seemed like he wanted to talk.

He knew about your history, and he knew he could come to you, so you wouldn’t push him to say more than what he was comfortable with.

You were shaken from your absolutely delightful thoughts as Jimin stuck his blonde head into the kitchen to tell you dinner was ready.

You thanked him and took a moment to master yourself, burying this part of you under layers of the personality you’d carefully constructed over the years, and when you went out to the patio you pretended everything was fine.

***************************************************************************************

After dinner that night, everyone was in the pool, either lounging or messing around in the water as the sun set over the ocean and stars began to make their appearance on an inky black stage.

You sat on the steps with Jin, a strawberry daiquiri in hand, discussing different cooking recipes, while the others sat around on the sides or swam in the pool.

“I wanted to say,” Jin said, placing a gentle hand on your knee, “that I’m sorry to hear about you and Shawn.”

Your stomach dropped. This had been the very last topic of conversation you wanted to discuss, but you had known it probably would come up that your ex-boyfriend had very publicly cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about and embarrassed you in front of the entire world and broken your heart and your spirit.

“Don’t be,” you said, steeling away your heart and the way it still sometimes ached for that lying, cheating bastard. “It’s for the best. He clearly never gave a shit about me.”

“How have you been dealing with it?” he asked, his eyes full of pity.

You shrugged and looked away, unable to shoulder the pity in his gaze. “Various ways. I watched some stupid teen romance movies and smashed some glass up in the mountains. Then I did a shit ton of drugs and blacked out for about two weeks. Then I just… carried on.”

Jin looked like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or yell. “Well that’s, uh, one way to get over someone.”

You shrugged again, playing with the warm pool water and tried to ignore the sinkhole I your chest that always opened up whenever you thought about Shawn. “I wasted enough time on him. He played me, I was sad for a bit, and now he doesn’t get the luxury of my time or peace of mind.”

Thankfully, at that exact moment, Brandon clapped his hands in the middle of the pool to get everyone’s attention.

“Ok, kids,” he announced, “let’s play a game.”

“What are we, pre-teens at a slumber party?” you demanded.

“Says the youngest here,” Branded retorted.

“Carry on,” you conceded with a sip of your drink.

“That’s what I thought,” he said as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Let’s play truth or dare.”

You gave him a pained look, the words fighting their way up your throat to tell him exactly what you thought of this cliché.

“So, Y/N,” Brandon said. He chose you to go first. Shocker. “Truth or dare?”

You thought for a moment, considering Brandon’s reputation of giving the absolute most horrific and humiliating dares. “Truth.”

“Tell us about the time you lost your virginity.”

You ignored the uncomfortable looks from the guys around you and the way they suddenly found everything but you incredibly interesting.

“Wow, first question and you already brought up sex? Way to ease into it,” you chuckled.

“Subtlety isn’t my style,” Brandon said with a sly grin. “Besides, aren’t you the one always saying, ‘Go big or go home’?”

“Fair enough,” you told him before taking a long drink of your cocktail. “Freshman year of college. I was at a frat party, got drunk, and thought, ‘fuck it, life’s too short. Chad was hot—or was it Brad? I honestly can’t remember. Same difference. After literally thirty seconds of making out he told me he wanted to fuck me, so I said whatever and lost my virginity in some senior frat house in a room that spelled like vomit and weed and I’m pretty sure did not belong to Brad or Chad or whoever he was. He lasted about forty-five seconds and I never saw him again.”

You sipped your drink, ignoring the shocked look on everyone’s’ face—everyone that is, except Brandon, who grinned at you with wicked delight. “Our little slut,” he said in an endearing tone.

“Hey,” you scoffed, leveling him with a glare, “at least I didn’t get syphilis the first time I had sex.”

Brandon let out a mock gasp and splashed you. “Hey that wasn’t my fault! I was fifteen and the girl told me I couldn’t get an STD my first time!

“Why? Because you couldn’t last long enough?” you shot back.

“Do you want to fight?” he demanded, making his way over to where you sat on the steps.

“Bring it on,” you said with a wry grin, setting your drink down. “I can take you any time, any place. Oh, but hold on, let me grab some protection first, I don’t want to catch your syphilis.”

“It was chlamydia,” Brandon snarled playfully, his large hands grabbing your thighs and pulling you towards him until you were close enough to wrap your legs around his torso, “and its gone now,” he said, his face so close to yours that your noses were practically touching.

You tilted your head a little so your mouth would graze his if either of you so much as shifted and said, “whatever you say, Itchy.”

At that, Brandon flung himself backwards into the water, taking you with him.

***************************************************************************************

JUNGKOOK’S POV

It was actually much more difficult to watch you and Brandon interact than he remembered. Your relationship had always looked like this: lots of touching and grabbing, inappropriate comments, sly looks… So Jungkook wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much tonight.

Maybe it was your skimpy little bikini—the way it did absolutely nothing to hide, well, any of your ass. Or the way it displayed your more than generous breasts. Or those curves. Those curves were positively sinful. Jungkook often dreamed about those curves when he was alone, imagining the way they would feel under his hands, how it would feel to have you completely at the mercy of his touch. What it would feel like to trace every perfect line of your body, just the two of you, and to have you want it—want him—and beg for more.

Suddenly, he was very, very glad he was submerged in the pool up to his hips, because if anyone saw the growing problem in his swim trunks he just might keel over dead on the spot.

“Jungkook.” Shit. You were looking at him, still tucked under Brandon’s incredible, stupidly muscled biceps—not that he cared or anything. “Truth or dare.”

“Um… truth?”

“Shit,” you said under your breath, “I wasn’t prepared for that one. Okay, um, I’ll be basic because I’m a little tipsy right now and therefore unoriginal, so I’ll go with: tell us about your first kiss.”

Jungkook immediately felt his face flame up as he dipped his head, the water suddenly more interesting than the model staring at him from across the pool.

“I’ve, uh, never been, um, kissed before,” he said, unable to meet your eyes.

“Wait really?” you asked incredulously.

He could only nod through the humiliation.

“That’s ok,” Brandon said from beside you, “You’re like 23, there’s really no rush. You’re a busy dude. No one expects you to have the time to go out and kiss girls.”

The others murmured their agreement. Jungkook could feel Taehyung’s gaze burning a hole through the side of his head, and even though he couldn’t see the older boy, Jungkook could practically envision the look of pity all over his face so he chose not to look. Even Brandon, despite his empathetic words, still gave him a quick look laced with pity.

It was only you that didn’t act like there was something fundamentally wrong with him for never having kissed anyone. You simply readjusted yourself in Brandon’s arms until he was carrying you bridal style so you could dip your head back to look at the stars, and said, “Damn, now I gotta think of something else.”

“We don’t have all night you drunk bitch,” Brandon said, swinging you around in a circle and making you giggle. “Jk, just ask someone else.”

And so the game continued on, but Jungkook wasn’t paying attention. He only watched the girl he loved lounge in another man’s arms and wondered what it would be like to be him.

***************************************************************************************

Jungkook spent the rest of the night hyperaware of where you existed around him, always looking for a way to talk to you or just be near you.

It frustrated him that he was like this; cripplingly insecure and desperate.

The past year and half your friendship had blossomed so easily over text, where he had the time to carefully construct a witty and suave response to whatever you had to say, but here, in real time, in your goddamn house, he was powerless to conceal how pathetic he was for you.

Because he was. Jungkook had loved you before he even met you—he had idolized you when you were a professional dancer in your teens, and then loved you even more when you became an actress and celebrity and you let the entire world see exactly how incredible you are.

And when he heard you were coming to Korea on a press tour for your new movie and he might even get to meet you he had nearly vomited from excitement and screamed into a pillow for three minutes straight.

But meeting you in his head was wildly different than meeting you in person. He thought he would be cool, albeit a bit awkward, but you would find it cute and charming. He would ask you out on a simple coffee date, to which you would reply yes, and you would have such a good time you wouldn’t leave his side. You would go for drinks at one of his favorite hidden bars in Seoul and he could show you his city. Then the two of you would go back to your hotel room to watch a movie, but he would accidently fall asleep and wake up with you in his arms.

Needless to say, it did not go that way.

He would never forget the first time he saw you in person: It was three years ago in Seoul during IdolFest, a huge gathering of idols to do interviews, challenges, variety shows, and interact with one another for the fans, and since your press tour would have you in Korea at the same time, they invited you and your co-stars to come, and you had said yes.

On the first day of the event, BTS had been one of the first groups to arrive and had to wait inside the studio until a PA—who was running late—could come open the dressing rooms.

Your co-stars had arrived first without you, them and their crew being ushered off into a corner by anxious looking interns. Jungkook observed with more than a little glee that the group was close enough to him that maybe he could make casual eye contact with you and introduce himself in a really cool and natural way. Or something suave like that.

It was a big deal that you guys were here, and everyone knew it. Your movies had been global blockbusters, breaking records after records with each opening weekend. As they walked across the room Jungkook could hear the whispers following them as idols eyed the American celebrities with varying reactions.

But all he could focus on was the fact that you weren’t there. Were you not coming? Were you running late?

He sent up a silent prayer to whatever god was listening that you would show; he wanted to meet you so badly—not that he thought he actually had the courage to introduce himself.

Jungkook was standing with Yugyeom talking about video games, when they heard the fans outside screaming the loudest they had all day.

“Who do you think it is?” Yugyeom asked, eyeing the door.

Jungkook shrugged. “Probably Big Bang or SHINee or some other big boy group.”

Suddenly, the doors of the studio burst open, the screams of the fans near deafening now, and every cell in Jungkook’s body went on red alert as you hurdled through the open doors on a longboard. Security had literally pushed you though the door as the chaos outside amplified.

The first thing Jungkook noticed was that you’re even more beautiful in person. You had your hair down, curls falling in waves down to your waist, the ends tinged lighter by the sun. Big designer sunglasses hid your eyes, but not the angular jaunt of your cheekbones or full mouth. You looked comfortable in oversized grey sweatpants and a black crop top that revealed impressive abs. A backpack was slung across your shoulders and Jungkook marveled that you could balance so well on your board with it on.

Everyone in the studio fell silent as you zoomed in, and if you noticed—which, having known you for two years now, Jungkook had no doubt you did—you didn’t react. You simply skateboarded over to where your costars stood, steering in and out of people like a professional with your hands in your pockets, expression bored.

In that moment, Jungkook had never loved anyone more.

Brandon’s voice echoed throughout the concrete studio, “You’re such a fucking drama queen Y/N.”

You slowed yourself down to a stop in front of him, kicking the board up into your hands with ease, the carefree sound of your laugh floating through the room.

“Yes, and?” you replied, turning to the man who Jungkook assumed was your assistant by the way he ran up to you, handed you a coffee, and took your skateboard.

“How was your final?” Caleb asked, taking a sip of his own coffee.

You groaned. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That bad?” Brandon asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Look, it happened. That’s all I’m going to say about it,” you said, chugging your coffee.

By then, conversation had picked back up and Jungkook was unable to hear the rest of what you were saying, but that didn’t stop him from looking over at you a bit too frequently and trying to think up a way to introduce himself.

He said goodbye to Yugyeom as the PA’s began letting people into their dressing rooms, and for a split second Jungkook truly believed in god when he realized that BTS’s dressing room was right next to yours.

And when Taehyung asked Namjoon to help him say hello to you, Jungkook almost exploded on the spot and had nothing short of begged to join them.

In the end, all seven boys had wanted to go, and so together they shuffled down the hall to the next door and knocked.

An assistant answered the door, and with wide eyes, turned around and said “BTS is here.”

“Let them in,” Brandon said, becoming visible as he stepped forward.

Jungkook was instantly jealous the first time he met Brandon.

To be fair, the first time he met Brandon, the other boy had been shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants, showing off his more than impressive physique. Jungkook would kill to have the kind of muscle definition and proportions that Brandon did, not to mention the height, the pretty face, and the confidence of having all of that and knowing it.

And then you stood up from your makeup chair and Jungkook instantly forgot about Brandon.

You were in a sports bra and tiny spandex shorts, your hair up in a bun and your knuckles taped as if for boxing. Jungkook was aware that he was ogling you, but damn you were the hottest thing he had ever seen.

“Hi,” you said in perfect Korean. “I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to meet you.” You smiled, and his eyes had caught yours for a split second and his heart had stopped beating.

“I’m RM,” Namjoon said stepping forward and shaking your hand. Jungkook tried not to feel too jealous—and failed. “Your Korean is very good.”

“Thank you,” you replied, blushing slightly. “I spent a year studying Taekwondo in Seoul a few years ago and picked up a few things,” you laughed.

“More than a few it looks like,” Namjoon observed, earning another laugh from you.

The meeting was short, as both groups were busy getting ready, and Jungkook found himself having said a single word to you: his goddamn name.

He wanted to be better than this. He wanted to be funny and interesting, but still a little mysterious and deep; he wanted to wow you with his cool words and maybe even get your number, but as he turned to leave with the rest of his group he realized how foolish he had been.

Why would you ever take notice of someone like him? Someone who couldn’t even speak to you, much less sweep you off your feet?

All he could think about as he walked away, and every day for the next three years, was how beautiful you had looked that day when you smiled at him.

YOUR POV

*********************************************************************************

The rest of the night was rather tame, the ten of you catching up over some alcohol and s’mores under a blanket of stars and swaying palm trees.

The alcohol plus the warm California breeze was all it took to lull you into a partial coma, your body suddenly deciding that you were very tired, and that Caleb made a wonderful pillow. Caleb, none too happy with his newly appointed status as a body pillow, dutifully carried you upstairs and helped you into bed.

As you nestled into your blankets you let your thoughts wander to Jungkook and wondered whether or not he’d actually share a bed with you tonight or if he would wait until everyone fell asleep and then crash on the couch.

It was strange how you couldn’t decide which option you wanted more.

On one hand, you liked Jungkook a lot. You would love nothing more than to share a bed and stay up late talking about everything and nothing in the safety of his arms. But you knew that was impractical. Even so, you realized you just craved being near him; you always felt good around him, like things were a little better. Like the dark cloud that always seemed to hang around you was a little less dark when he was there. He was a reminder that there were still things in this world worth fighting for, and one of them was right in front of you.

On the other hand, you weren’t sure you could handle being that close to him and not getting the physical attention you craved. It would be so incredibly hard to share a goddamn bed with him and not go any further than sleeping. You would get to be near him, but it could never go any further than that, and you weren’t sure you were capable of that right now.

As you drifted off to sleep you realized there was never any doubt: you wanted him here. And maybe that was more of a nightmare than a dream.

Right in the middle of a particularly interesting dream about Jungkook, you awoke to the feeling of the mattress shifting on the other side of the bed. You didn’t say anything as you cracked an eye to watch Jungkook get comfortable as far away from you as he could get without falling off the edge of the mattress.

You couldn’t help the satisfaction that bloomed in your chest, and the feeling of security knowing he was safely next to you, asleep and alive. Fighting the urge to reach out and touch him, you turned over and went back to sleep, but this time no dreams came.

[twofootedbones]

Rose Colored Shades

Summary: There was once a moment where Latula knew who Cronus was, but when you’re wearing rose colored glasses, every flag is just a flag. 

A look through Latula’s eyes and her view of was had happened between her, Cronus, and Mituna that made them break farther apart than she would have ever liked. 

 You know those stories, those ones where they always start with the “just us three against the world?” Well that’s how this one starts. It was just me and my boys, my two goofballs that I loved with my whole bloodpusher. My matesprit Mituna Captor and my considering morail Cronus Ampora. The days we spent together were always perfect, it didn’t matter if we got a skate trick wrong, got chased away for loitering, or just couldn’t get past this one level in some dumb video game we picked up from the discount bin. We were the perfect Kingdom Bloodpushers trio! One epic heroine and her two boy sidekicks. 

Then we started the game. Me and ‘Tuna saw it as the perfect challenge and we dragged poor ol’ Cro along with us. It didn’t take long for a lot of things to go sour though. Everyone started screaming and punching, pretty sure half of the screaming was Kankri’s fault but it was chaos nonetheless. We all went from one radical kickass group into a clusterfuck of horrible words and totally not rad violence. No one listened to each other and everyone tried to be the leader. Many of us actually broke away from the group to do things our own way. Blame is on teenage angst.

  Then it happened. I wasn’t around to see it and I beat myself up about it every single day. The only one to see it was that stupid mime and he barely showed an ounce of pitty in those cursed eyes. Just bringing the body to us, plopping him on the ground, and walking away like he didn’t just deliver us the most horrific thing we had ever seen. No one knew how to act at this point, we stood there just staring at him. The Tuna I once knew was gone, none of us knew how to help him, he laid there on the ground just shaking and crying. He was covered in his own 

The cursor flashed on the screen, waiting for the next words to be written. Latula leaned back in her desk chair, wiping the sudden tears away from her face ultimately ruining the minimal mascara she had put on just hours before. This was going to take a while. She didn’t know why she was trying to write something like this, Aranea claimed that writing gave “feels closure” whatever that meant. Just a few feet away sat lil Mituna. Well he wasn’t that little as he towered over her by a solid foot, but he was her little honey bee. He was starfishing in the bean bag chair as he idly chewed on a necklace he found somewhere in his hive. His hair was held out of his face by one of Latula’s scrunchies and he sat in just a pair of gym shorts, the fern leaf-like scars that danced across his body being revealed. He hated it when the others saw them, she was the only exception. She was allowed to gaze upon and touch the flowing scars. It was as if his veins had been dyed faint shades of red and blue. 

He had yet to notice her eyes on him and continued to just stare off at the wall, not even paying mind to the show that was playing on the TV. Latula took a deep breath and turned back to the document.The same blinking cursor ready for her to continue.

When he woke up he wasn’t the same, or so I was convinced. When his eyes finally opened, they weren’t the same red and blue slushie color I was so used to seeing. They were completely void of his colors, a black and white that he carried with him to the dream bubbles. He was afraid and confused and he didn’t recognize any of us. He tried to run from all of us whenever he was awake, but all he gained from that was agitating all the harsh electrical burns he had. I was starting to grow sick of yellow being smeared all over the room. The day ‘Tuna first woke was the same day I saw Cronus Ampora genuinely cry for the last time. He stopped coming to visit Mituna shortly after, claiming that everything that came out of his mouth was wrong even though all that really came out was screams of fear. The last time he visited he lashed out at him, it wasn’t much just a shout of the words “shut up” before he ran out of the room. I was willing to push that aside back then, I was at my wits end too. We thought that my matesprit and his best friend was gone. We both believed that our trio was soon going to be a duo. Cronus couldn’t bear to see his friend like this anymore, leaving me alone to take care of him. 

It didn’t take long for Tuna to start using words again. Guaranteed they were in the wrong order, but they were words. He stopped screaming at everyone and he stopped trying to run away from all of us. But he would still pick at his scabs and burns.

 One day he asked me what my name was for the ten-thousandth time. Except instead of repeating it back to me or forgetting it immediately, this dork said and I quote: “That’s pretty, like you!” 

At that moment I swear I was falling in love with him twice over. Every time I would come into the block we kept him in he would call me pretty. He eventually started calling me by my name, but for months he would always ask for me by calling me “the pretty lady” 

Not even a sweep passed before we were all done for. Our game failed and now here we are living forever in the dream bubbles. Totally not a rad ending I kn

A crash interrupted her typing, she quickly turned around only to see that Mituna was no longer in the block with her. “Tuna?” she called out. A faint mumble came before she heard the boy in question reply from the nutrition block. “I DIDN’T BREAK ANYTHING,” was all he screamed. Latula had long gotten used to his lack of volume control. “It was plas- pl- not glass!” he followed in a completely different tone. “Are you sure you don’t need help bee?” she got up out of her chair and started walking towards the block. Standing in the center of a tupperware war-zone stood Mituna Captor and his perfectly poured cup of orange juice. “Hi,” he said with the largest smile plastered onto his face. Latula’s smile came slowly before she was just flat out wheezing at the scene before her, Mituna joined his cackling laugh mixing with hers. The Captor stopped to take a sip of the juice before kicking around at the tupperware. They couldn’t have anything glass in the hive because of this and the glass they do have is hidden in the lowest cabinets where this gentle giant doesn’t think to look. 

“What happened?” 

Mituna pointed up towards the cabinet. “I put the-them away lasst,” he admitted. The boy’s version of putting away the dishes is to stack up a disaster that will ultimately topple over the second someone would open the door. He put his cup down on the counter and started to clean up the mess. Latula joined him. This wasn’t anything really that new, he would always set up the dishes this way in Cronus’ hive whenever they would visit, just to watch the seadweller open the door to be pelted by this psionic’s genius pranks. Now it’s become a normal schedule to never open the cabinet door fully. Kankri has told them that Cronus still does that as a habit, having to watch the seadweller cringe before opening anything every time he goes over there to lecture him. Meenah has even just told Cronus to remove the door if he’s going to keep complaining about it

After fixing the nutrition block back up and settling Tuna back into his spot, this time with juice and a movie he would actually kind of focus on, Latula returned to her husktop, spamming the space bar to wake it back up. 

Ya know, when you look at the world through rose colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags. Things started to get worse and worse with Cronus the more ‘Tuna recovered. Cronus just couldn’t see the friend he once knew anymore but that gives him no right to treat him the way he did and still does. The day we started to completely cut off all contact with Cronus was the day he actually hit Mituna in front of me. Me and ‘Tuna were just out skating, trying to find the best place to try some basic tricks when we came across Cro’. We took a short break to talk to him for a bit, I should’ve noticed this so much sooner but Mituna was extremely uncomfortable being around him. It’s my fault for not hearing it in his words. Cronus continued to speak some kind of friendship nonsense and wrapped his arm around my bee’s shoulder. ‘Tuna tensed up and shoved the guy away, hard. Cronus looked at him shocked just standing there. Then the bastard said something I will never forget. “I should’ve fucking culled you after we found your broken sorry-ass,” 

Then he reeled back and punched ‘Tuna square in the face. The visor on that helmet cracked and shattered. They started to brawl. Mituna pulled off his helmet to throw it right at Cronus’ chest and managed to pick up his skateboard to slam it into the dude’s side. I grabbed onto ‘Tuna and got out of there ASAP, the poor boy continuing to scream, swear and shout jumbled words all the way until we got back to my hive. I don’t know what happened to the beaten fucker in the dirt, but he could just sit there and wallow for all I care. 

I blocked Cronus on every single platform we shared that night, went into ‘Tuna’s accounts and did the same. While he doesn’t use any of his accounts any more they are important to me and I wouldn’t want that asshole touching any of it. Each and every post being a museum of what Mituna Captor once was and continues to be. 

There have been more times where the two of them have gotten into fights, usually times where I’m not around. I try my best to stay by his side and keep him away, but I can’t coddle him. I refuse to baby my baby. There’s- 

A sudden weight on her shoulders interrupted her writing. “Whatcha writing, Tulip?” her boy said in a sing-song voice. She lifted her arms up to grab onto the ones around her. “Oh, nothing too important,” she tilted her head up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Mituna giggled and rubbed his face in her hair. She laughed, pushing the arms off her and getting up. “Wanna watch another movie? I’ll watch with you this time,” she asked, hugging him close. She felt those same awkward lanky arms wrap around her. “Nah, let’ss play Trollio Kart,” he said. 

“Flushed for you,” 

“Flushshed for you tooo,”

[solerey]

Some initial TROS thoughts, unpolished and rambling. Feel free to come chatter.

So...”Rey Palpatine” is kind of stupid, but also kind of the best option that they had available to them short of just...doing to TLJ the same thing that TLJ did to TFA and just kicking it apart and tossing the pieces out the window. And I guess JJ and the other folks working on this movie weren’t that level of asshole, okay.

How the hell does Poe being a spice smuggler fit his backstory? Was it a Resistance mission and he didn’t want to spill those beans in front of everybody mid-mission? Because seriously, how the hell is that supposed to fit even time-wise into the history we’ve been given, let alone personality-wise? Was JJ just trying real hard to make Poe “this movie’s Han” or something? Because I hate to break it to him but Poe is the new trio’s Leia and he’s the one who established that fact so he really should have remembered it okay. I mean...at least we do have the canon of Han Solo being a spice smuggler, so we can kind of say it’s not as bad of a Bad Racist Stereotype as it would be to pull the equivalent shit in our world...but at the same time, smuggling space under the Empire is rather different from smuggling spice under the New Republic, which is not a horrible totalitarian government...and for that matter, Poe had nice loving parents and a good childhood, unlike Han, so how the hell did he even end up starting that in the first place? It must have been some kind of undercover mission. It must have. Nothing else makes sense.

OH GODS THAT KISS ASJLK:SGOIWEUGHUAKBN:KNSFN WHYYYYY. I legit let out a noise of involuntary disgust and horror that was some kind of scream-turned-into-a-gurgle that I really, really wish I could duplicate but I don’t even know how I got my throat to issue that sound omg. Made half the theater giggle though whoops. Thank every power in the ‘verse that he died then, at least; if Kylo Ren had not only gotten a “redemption arc” but also lived I don’t know that I could have stomached it...

P.S. “I realized that I’ve been a complete monster and have murdered tons and tons of people for bad reasons and now I feel bad about it, so I’m going to go kill some of my old allies now and then give my lifeforce to someone who’s actually a Good Person so they can survive in my place and improve the galaxy in ways that my shitty whiny evil ass never could” is not the kind of “redemption arc“ that actually turns someone into a good person. Just like with Darth Vader, none of the horrible deeds that Kylo Ren did were erased by the fact that he had a last-minute epiphany and actually killed a few of the right people at the end. He is still a villain -- still a mass-murdering monster. He just managed to do one right thing before he died. He is not Zuko. But gosh, am I looking forward to watching the fandom elevate him to Character Sainthood for that. What is it with people and their inability to enjoy a villain without painting him as some Innocent Woobie? In my day, we could look at our Magnetos and our Doctor Dooms and say “oh yes he’s such an interesting character, I love reading about him, definitely a favorite!” without also convincing ourselves that he was a Good Person who Never Did Anything Wrong Ever...I say, grumbling, from my rocker on the porch of The Fandom Elders.

He’s worse than Kyp Duron and tbh I think Kyp Duron should have gone to jail.

Anyway...I kind of hated the Han scene? And not just because it was part of the “absolve Kylo Ren’s horrific crimes” subplot, but because it just didn’t make sense.

SPEAKING OF...what the hell was up with the “we can teleport objects across massive distances with the Force” nonsense? And people were upset that Leia used the Force to pull herself through vacuum okaaaaay...

Oh Leia. Oh Carrie. At least we got something. Thank you. Thank you to everyone who gave us that; to everyone who salvaged that. Thank you.

Also I really really wish that someone writing for the New Canon would go back to watch the first movie and figure out how hyperspace works. Ughhhh...

Not a lot of Rose in this movie, alas -- I guess she was “the Lando” of the films, huh? Shows up in the second movie and is awesome (really the only good thing to come out of TLJ wasn’t she?) but then gets pulled back to supporting-character role in the third... Hopefully the new expanded universe will do a better job of keeping her around and engaged in the further stories than the original EU did with Lando!

Even less Connix, which is sad. I wonder if it was hard for her, coming back to Star Wars without her mom? Oh Carrie. My princess eternal.

What was the point of the new droid? Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t annoyed by it or anything -- I just didn’t get what he was actually there for? Whatever.

THANK THE FUCKING FORCE THEY DIDN’T KILL CHEWBACCA. I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO EVAPORATE RIGHT OUT OF MY SEAT WHEN THAT SHIP BLEW UP.

So I’m guessing “Junior” is a baby Ackbar, right? Too bad they didn’t go with Jesmin.

WEDGE. WEDGE. WEDGE. WEDGE ANTILLES!!!!

Thank the Force they didn’t kill Wedge, either. (They didn’t, right? I mean, I was watching, but things were kind of chaotic, and I only found out that they’d killed Ackbar in TLJ because they fucking said it afterward, since there had been nothing to indicate he was there before that...but they wouldn’t kill The Survivor, RIGHT?)

Oh man it was so nice to see Lando. I kind of wish he’d been in it more, but at the same time, the bits he was in were so perfect. I hope we get a book about him helping Jannah and the other former stormtroopers tracing their origins.

So real disappointing that we didn’t get to see Finn inspiring any stormtroopers to defect, huh? When they got surrounded on the Star Destroyer, I was so hoping that the stormies were going to suddenly recognize him and lower their blasters...SIGH.

Still, at least Finn is going to be Rey’s first New Jedi Student now, right? Right?

I did really like the group of defecting stormtroopers in general, though. That was excellent. They make me want to actually read a New Canon book although it’s a shame Aaron Allston isn’t here to write one about them because his style would be a kickass fit for that story, wouldn’t it? Whoever they get, I hope someone writes it.

I’m still torn on whether or not I like that it was Luke who lifted the X-Wing out. I do know that I don’t like the Force Ghosts Can Interact Tangibly With The World idea.

JEDISTORMPILOT hug at the end? HELL YES. That is the only ship I want to see in this movie. Okay no that’s a lie I would have also been delighted with Finn/Poe and happy with Finn/Rey but since they didn’t want to give us anything more than bait-and-switch bullshit in this trilogy, I will just sit back and be thrilled by the lack of (likely heteronormative) Mono Ship Resolution and enjoy the fact that the closest we come to actual canon is this charming polyship. Even though all these of these characters deserved BETTER than the weird quasi-love triangle/whatever the fuck was going on there...and we’re not talking about the kiss again ever yuck.

I really wish they hadn’t opened Zorii Bliss’s helmet. UGH.

Speaking of: disappointed that Phasma didn’t come back again lol. Could have gotten her ass kicked again by Finn...only better this time, like the deleted version.

Also why are all of the main characters humans? Come on man...the Resistance is not the Empire (or the First Order, or Final Order, or whatever they’re calling themselves; it’s just a fresh coat of paint on the same old xenophobia). There should be way more non-humans in the ensemble scenes...and a few more aliens as full characters. Someday we’re going to get someone who actually understands the world building of this universe to write a SW movie... You couldn’t even paint Zorii Bliss a different color? Ugh. All we really got was Chewie and a few background extras/jokes/one-liners...and Chewie was pretty underutilized too, imo.

SPEAKING OF, WHY WASN’T THIS MOVIE DEDICATED TO PETER MAYHEW?

[tumblunni]

Today’s random Thought about gamemaking, I guess? Does anyone else get inexplicably super pissed off when a song seems to give the wrong meaning to a scene?

Like seriously i do not know ANYTHING about making music, I don’t even know how to read music notation at a basic primary school level. So it seems bewhildering to me when super talented viddygame musicians seem to take a ‘ehh it doesnt matter’ attitude to their soundtrack. I can’t understand why any game would not even TRY to have music match to the story stuff that’s happening, seriously why are there so many mediocre products like that. EVEN STUPID BUNNI CAN SEE IT!!! WE EXPECT BETTER FROM YOU!!! Good retort for any other ‘don’t listen to the players, they couldn’t make their own game’ type argument- you don’t have to be a master chef to know a cake is burnt.

sorry, sorry, I’m getting offtopic here, I’m just a little fired up!

Well basically what I mean is that music can be REALLY IMPORTANT to enhance an emotional moment in a game, and it can backfire horribly if one of those moments has a bad soundtrack. Not that it’s the be all and end all of sorywriting though, I mean there are plenty of games out there with forgettable soundtracks that still made me cry. But.. I mean.. usually they were just forgettable, and not outright terrible. Not many games where I had to play the whole thing muted managed to stir up as much emotion, yknow...? RAMBLING AGAIN Summary: music is not > writing, but can add +1 to writing if they work in harmony.

But the point that bothered me today is remembering how a failed musical moment can confuse players on the meaning of a scene, if the writing didn’t outright spell it out. Or if the writing is very clear on the intended reaction and the music still seems to say something else, the disconnect can ruin your immersion even if you still understood what was trying to be said. or, hypothetically, if a situation exists with two versions of the same story and one of them has a fitting, meaningful song while the other has a rather generic one, that moment could seem to hold more ‘importance’ in the narrative depending on which version you bought. JUST SAYIN’

which actually happened once in pokemon ruby and sapphire and it still rustles my jimmies!!!

okay so we have two versions of the same game where the villain guy has a different personality and tries to harness the power of a legendary monster of either fire or water. They both still follow the same general plotline, and both have a moment where villain guy’s plan fails and he isn’t able control [insert monster name here], thus causing Apocolypse Time for some damn reason this was chosen as one of the only songs that differs between games, despite its emotional resonance being CRITICALLY important to this goddamn scene

I guess that’s bad? I suppose?

but then the other one gets the fuckin creepiest music i have ever heard in a pokemon game

I THINK THAT EVER SO SLIGHTLY CHANGES THE TONE OF THE SCENE, GUYS

seriously, the water one sounds more like a vaguely ominous dungeon exploration theme and like.. a music.. in general??? not a YOU DONE FUCKED UP! YOU DONE FUCKED UP! alarm blaring right in maximillian’s goddamn face. it’s deliberately dissonant non-music, and the other one doesn’t even try to capture the same sort of aesthetic!

and lil kid me had only played Sapphire Version, so I never even heard the spookier version until I played the Ruby remake a decade later I know it sounds weird to not grasp the gravity of a literal apocolypse if the music isn’t scary enough, but I mean.. its a jrpg cliche. The world is always under threat and we already knew it was under threat and that’s why we wanted to beat this guy. That spooky music moment was necessary to sell the audience on something that’s often lost its shock value in this genre. And it was also an emotional moment because its where the villain sees the consequences of his actions and realizes what he was doing was wrong. It shouldnt be just a ‘wow, new sea adventure dungeon, better get moving kiddo’ sort of thing, but something that knocks you off your tracks for a second and makes you pause to take in what this guy is saying and feel sympathy for his horrific realization. Its a moment that’s so disarming for him that you just have to leave him there nigh-catatonic as you rush off to fix his mistake, and he only properly teams up with you to help save the day a dungeon or two later. That just seemed like a plot contrivance in Sapphire because there wasn’t that same desperate urgency that you have to rush off NOW, and can’t wait for this guy. Apocolypses happen all the time in rpg games, you need to specify to the audience when you want it to feel like an URGENT apocolypse! FF7 had a similar moment where you learn a bunch of revelations about the main villain and he succeeds in summoning the magic meteor that was more of an abstract threat this entire time. Now you can see it hovering in the distant sky, and the world map music has a drastic spooky change similar to this game. it worked there, it worked in pokemon ruby, pokemon sapphire why did you change it?

also, a more random minor issue I had with another song in the same game

Is it just me or does Wally’s theme sound more like ‘classy rich guy’ than ‘unconfident younger child with a chronic illness whom you play a mentor role to’? It also sounds really cheerful and upbeat and reminds me more of the generic ‘HI I AM GIRL AND CUTE AND CRUSH ON YOU’ rival characters like May and Shauna. Its just kinda got that ‘hyperactive and clumsy but in a way that’s supposed to be seen as a love interest’ sort of vibe. So yeah to me it says ‘fancy high class characters are usually egotistical jerk rivals, but I personally want to assure you that this rich lady is actually super nice and adorable and possibly has cute comic relief aspects’. Aka Sonia Nevermind from Danganronpa. Is this just my brain making nonsensical associations or does anyone see where I’m coming from??

Also ‘Wally Emotion’ doesnt seem to have ANYTHING in common with it and I never even knew this was a Wally-only theme AT ALL until I saw the track listing.

THINGS THAT SOUND WAY MORE LIKE THAT: THIS seriously why is this just the generic song for the town the guy lives in, instead you don’t even really take enough time passing through it to hear the full thing...

also obligatory mention to possibly the greatest change in the whole remake being SPECIFICALLY GIVING THIS GUY ANOTHER ACTUALLY FITTING REMIX SONG hey guess what didnt give me emotions in the first version hey guess what gives me all the emotions now FUCK YEAH that’s how you sell ‘the student becomes the master’ entirely without words! this thing was so goddamn successful that it took me half an hour to even find a video of his ‘main theme’, youtube search was overwhelmingly shoved full of cover of this badass piece i cant believe that the original game just used the same old minor trainer battle theme for him...

[calledkore-archived]

@kingofshades​ asked: ‘ why are you bleeding? ’

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 // not accepting !!

HANDS STAINED GOLD clutch at the wound on her calf, not enough to be any real cause for alarm but certainly more than enough to hurt. Perhaps it is that pain that has her narrowing her eyes at her husband's choice of words, despite the concern that she can plainly see on his face. "Well, you know, it's the darnedest thing, Hades -- just woke up this morning and thought, you know, just seems like the thing to do."

She releases her calf to show him the wound, a jagged cut a few inches in length. "I caught myself on a piece of metal out in the courtyard. Wasn't payin' attention." Wasn't as if there was any reason for it to have been there, but she knew better than to hope for reason in Hades. And then, before he can get too huffy over her response, she thrusts her leg out in his direction. "Ask stupid questions, Hades. Now, gimme a hand."

[ceaselessly-into-the-past]

belonging

I’ve had a horrific cold the last three days, so as a result this post will probably be even less coherent than usual. I suppose it was about time that my body caught up with my mind in terms of health. 

I skipped last night’s 7-10 orchestra rehearsal and plan on skipping all of today - I haven’t missed any of my Wednesday classes so far save for theory, which I’ve now missed four times. The first two were when I woke up with terrific migraines and knew immediately I wouldn’t be able to function in class. The third time was when my tracheostomy tube fell out in my sleep and the hole in my neck had almost closed up completely.

I looked in the bathroom mirror and squinted. At first, in my just-awoken, bleary-eyed state I thought, a stake of horror shooting up through my body, that it had closed up completely. But no - as I scrambled on top of the toilet to get a closer look, I saw that there was a small dot of black in the flesh of that hollow part at the base of your neck. No bigger than two millimeters or so in diameter.

Fuck, I thought, I have to have this cut open.

The problem was that I would have to involve my parents and also notify the school of what happened. And I had no doubt that they would question my ability to live alone in the dorms.

I would not go back to my parents.

No fucking way.

My autonomy was in danger, and so I proceeded to do the following:

I wiped the end of a pen - where the gently-sloped cone-shaped cap was - with an alcohol swab.

Looking in the mirror, I slowly fed it into my neck, not very deep at all, not even up to the rubber part that you hold when writing with it, and carefully pushed. I supposed this was akin to what anal sex feels like, just on a smaller scale and in a completely different location.

Every so often I pulled the pen away and observed. The hole, just as I thought it would, was growing back to size.

I also noticed that sticking a pen in my neck hurt a lot.

After twenty minutes of gentle pushing I decided it was big enough.

I reinserted the tracheostomy apparatus.

Blood slowly tricked down my chest, but that was okay. Blood more often than not stops after a while.

I got the idea from one of those stupid gore-fest Saw movies. Yes, the one where the guy is chained up to a bathtub and he has to cut off his leg to free himself. That’s the first one, which is actually not bad. The series definitely went progressively to shit after that.

When I was in seventh grade I suddenly became obsessed with the concept of death - what a fascinating thing it was, to think that there’s simply nothing after your body expires for whatever reason. Complete nothingness. It was thrilling to me. 

After I discovered the existence of the Saw franchise, I often watched video compilations of every ‘test’ in the movies. One of them involved a man whose head was encased with a box that was slowly filling with water. The solution became apparent to him - he had a pen in his pocket, and he had to perform a tracheostomy on himself by piercing his throat with the pen so he could breathe without his nose or mouth.

What fascinated me most about the Saw deaths was that there was always a way out. It was interesting to see who made it and who didn’t. Were the puzzles not lethal, I used to think, this would be an exciting game show.

I was not quite sound of mind in the seventh grade. But I suppose it came in handy in the end.

And now I’m missing theory for the fourth time, because of a bad cold.

In other news, I’ve found some friends, the process of which started quite a while ago.

The annual kick-off-the-year Circle Line Cruise, where Juilliard kids get to go on a short cruise down the Hudson River, around the Statue of Liberty and back up again, was on the 6th of September, 2017. That wasn’t the point, though - nobody gave a shit about the cruise. There was fucking booze on that ship, and kids that were old enough got their starting drinks for the night there while the underaged looked on wistfully. They would get their chance, though, in just a few hours - because immediately after the Circle Line Cruise would come a veritable plethora of wrecked-for-school parties across Manhattan. I managed to get into one on West 68th street. Interestingly enough, Michael - the host - lived in the same complex as the instrument dealer I bought my most recent cello from a few years ago.

Needless to say, I launched myself headfirst into that shit. I walked in and immediately got a shot, then another drink, then a mixed drink to lay off the hard stuff. Mixed drinks, I should mention, are great.

Eventually and inevitably we got a noise complaint from some neighbor and the party had to be cleared out before we got busted. There were whisperings, though, of an afterparty in the back room for those that stayed behind. Naturally, I stayed behind - and this was how I met Andrew.

Andrew, along with another older student, were rolling joints in the back room, and about eight other kids were sitting around and passing around what I know like to call ‘the weeds’. I approached Andrew and without my even having to ask he handed me a freshly-lit blunt. As I got started on it we made conversation - we had a mutual friend named Philip, who I knew in Pre-College and was now a third year. Philip had made a Facebook group called Juilliard Memescript Archives that we occasionally posted in. Andrew was a second year and, as I soon learned, was 'the’ Juilliard drug guy. Andrew, however, was not some pale, half-present white douchebag - he was darker-skinned, for one, and wore glasses and dressed smartly. It was as if he had walked out of an alternate version of the 2015 film Dope in which the protagonists were nerdy Latino classical musicians. 

‘When’s your birthday?’ Andrew asked, and I told him that it was in two weeks or so.

‘Really? Shit man, you know what, I’m gonna host a party for you. It’s gonna be fuckin lit. We’ll have some booze and weed and also, I like cooking. I cook a lot because I have my own place and it’s the only way I can get good food around here. The cafeteria is hopeless, you know. Juilliard doesn’t give a fuck about what they feed us. We’ll make some really good food and get wrecked.’

I awkwardly thanked him. In the back of my mind I carefully noted that this might just be some kind of idiotic promise that people make when they’re especially drugged out, but I held on to some hope that finally, someone had reached out to me.

Sure enough, a week later Andrew messaged me asking when my birthday was again and what kind of food I liked. I told him again and explained that I actually couldn’t have solid food, so he should really consult whoever he was going to be inviting.

On the 24th of September I went up to West 120-somethingth street to Andrew’s apartment. It ended up being a small party, with just me, Andrew, Philip, and his extroverted girlfriend Helen, who was also a 3rd year. It was a Sunday and we all watched the new episode of Rick and Morty while sipping the shittiest vodka I’d ever tasted and tried getting high on the little weed available to us. Andrew kept getting messages requesting various drugs and at one point he left the room to make a sale at his front door.

About three weeks later, I got a message from Helen asking if I wanted to be the cellist for her ChamberFest group. Chamberfest was an intensive program at Juilliard where participating students would come back a week early from winter break and spend that week preparing an entire chamber music work to perform in concert for the rest of the returning students. I had tried putting together a ChamberFest group to do Shostakivoch’s String Quartet 6 in c minor - a chamber music epic if there ever was one, I highly recommend everyone listen to it at least once - but things hadn’t quite worked out. Helen told me she was trying to get a group to do Schubert’s Trout Quintet.

‘Yeah, definitely!’ I replied.

The next day I met the other four members in the chamber music office to fill out our application form - Helen, Andrew, Michael (that host from the cruise afterparty), and a girl named Natalie. All save for Helen were second-years.

A week later, the chamber music office emailed us informing that our request to work on Trout Quintet had been approved.

Since then, my home has been our group chat. All of us happen to be, as Helen put it, ‘waaaaaay into not being sober’. So our plans, naturally, revolved around working our asses off during the day and getting fucking destroyed at night. There are talks of dropping acid at some point and evening weed rehearsals to try and get some new ideas on the piece.

It’s so funny. I considered my life until college to be extremely sheltered - I never went out often with friends, I certainly never partied or drank or did anything of that sort. But here I was with Helen, who was notorious for dealing with the shit in her life and in school by smoking weed daily; Andrew, who was Drug Boi(TM) and had been caught alongside his roommate with bags of weed in his dorm room last year (and had luckily only been admonished); Michael, who had an infamous anti-establishment streak with the Juilliard administration (though to be fair, we all did) and didn’t hesitate to trash them in Facebook posts; and Natalie, who seemed to really like wine. 

Our philosophy was: Fuck this school, fuck how it disproportionately puts pressure and stress on its students, we’re going our own way and we’re still gonna be good at our fucking art while we do it so fuck you.

I feel like I belong to something now. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt since I last saw my friends from high school in June. But it’s rushing back now, and I feel a new life welling up in the future.

tl;dr ChamberFest is gonna be fucking lit.

[workreveal-blog]

Internet warriors: Humans inside the dark world of online 'trolls'

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Internet warriors: Humans inside the dark world of online 'trolls'

Norwegian filmmaker Kyrre Lien started gaining knowledge of on-line commenters on Christmas Day 2014. “I have become fascinated by how a lot of hate and lack of information human beings have been writing within the feedback segment of a news site,” he says, “so I started looking at people’s profiles, trying to work out which they have been. Many seemed pretty reasonable. That they had households and gave the look of social human beings, but the feedback they had been writing in a public space have been so extreme. There was a disconnect.” And so began Lien’s 3-year journey into the lives of humans the web’s most prolific online commenters, now the situation of a documentary, The Internet Warriors.

internet

Lien’s research took him the world over – from the fjords of Norway to the United States wasteland – assembly people of severe, “frequently illogical” beliefs: the racists, the homophobes, the slut- shamers. Lien to begin with researched two hundred ability topics. 1/2 said no while he approached them. It becomes then a manner of elimination: “To discover what their reasons had been, who they have been, and why they held the views they did. In a way,” he says, “I became an investigator.”

Of all the ‘haters’ he is observed online, one kind eluded him. “I contacted many, many misogynists, as I desired to try to understand,” Lien says, “however none might talk publicly, which itself is thrilling.”

What did Lien analyse via the making of the documentary? “That many, many people are lonely – they feel society has left them in the back of – and that a whole lot of the ones I met are former victims of bullying themselves,” says Lien, “but in the long run, I found out that people can trade, that we are works in motion. We can’t see near our eyes and faux that they don’t exist if we need to alternate the manner we debate and communicate on-line. It’s critical to pay attention to these voices now.”

To watch Kyrie Lien’s documentary The Net Warriors, visit theguardian.Com/Net-warriors

‘I’m in opposition to all immigration’: Robert Jackson, 50, steelworker, England

Robert Jackson spends hours every day commenting online. Lately, he wrote that Tony Blair has to be changed. “I stand by way of that,” he says. “I’d gladly put the rope around his neck. He’s a traitor to his humans.”

Jackson’s primary problem is immigration: he believes Britain will “fall apart” under a load of refugees. “I sincerely don’t care in which they’re from, or which war they’re fleeing.” What makes it worse, he says, and the cause he’s especially irritated on the government, is that it value him a lot to bring over his Thai spouse. “I had to pay lots to get my spouse right here from Thailand. Her visa best lasts for six months, after which she has to move lower back. And then we need to do the same thing all once more.”

‘I slut-shame celebrities’: Ashleigh Jones, 21, pupil, Wales

Ashleigh Jones would not describe herself as a troll. “A troll is a person who’s ruining the dialogue, and that’s no longer me.”

Jones’s commenting style is “sincere and brutal. I don’t sugarcoat something,” she says. She uses Twitter as a type of daily diary, an area wherein she will be able to explicit how she is feeling each day. “Like after I tweeted to Amy Schumer: ‘I might say Amy Schumer is a cunt however you have to be smart to be a cunt.’”

She is very used to receiving abuse in go back for her inflammatory comments. “but that doesn’t trouble me,” she says. “I have quite a few sex so that I will be that ugly.”

‘I agree with Israel was behind September 11’: Scott Munson, 49, activist, California

Scott Munson describes himself as “a fact teller”. He considers this to be his complete-time activity, particularly when it comes to sharing “information approximately 9/11 and gun manage”.

Munson says he is “satisfied that the USA authorities are attempting to manipulate us all”. It’s additionally clear to him that “Israel benefitted from September 11. We had more than three,000 Israelis now not displaying up for work after which Israelis were dancing after the assault – it’s obvious that it changed into a nation that won from that occasion.”

He is no stranger to abuse himself: “once I write online that Israel was at the back of 9-11, people call me horrific names, like stupid, dummy, moron and Neanderthal.” but he believes that’s because he’s telling human beings truths that are hard to pay attention. “That’s the technique – many are in denial, however then I help them see. It’s uncomfortable for them to find out that our government is killing its very own humans.”

humans connected to the internet

every day, Munson shares his “reality” along with his five,000 Facebook buddies and his different e-mail list of 23,000, people. “I’m also on LinkedIn,” he adds.

‘I want to be unfastened to hold a gun’: Nick Haynes, forty-two, truck motive force, Pennsylvania

while Nick Haynes become more youthful, he got into frequent “arguments” with the authorities. At sixteen he ran far from home and said he hadn’t regarded lower back because. He’s now lost touch with his circle of relatives altogether. “It’s been four or 5 years considering I last even talked to my father,” he says.

Today Haynes keeps along with his arguments, but this time it’s on social media. He says he tweets: “about fifty-seven times an afternoon.” He provides: “I debate due to the fact if I don’t say something, folks that are in opposition to the second Amendment and people who spread lies will win the arguments. If I don’t combat back while somebody claims something, then they’ll win whenever.”

He watched the USA election along with his three daughters and son. “I advised them what I agree with: that Clinton has raped this u. S .. I am hoping they arrest her.” Now Trump’s received, he says: “It’s the first time in view that 9/11 that I feel our us of a is again on target, again to which it belongs.” His children trust him.

‘I assume homosexuals will destroy Russia’: Alexandra Velichkevich, fifty-one, scholar, Russia

From her rental near St Petersburg, Velichkevich believes she is fighting for Russia. Her fear is that her you. S . Might be taken over by “Gay Europe”. Her seventy five-12 months-vintage mum debates online alongside her. “We’re apprehensive that our beloved Russia may be inspired by way of the homosexuals in Europe and us,” and ruin it with their “crap homosexual way of life”.

She wants to make it clear that she doesn’t see LGBT humans as her enemy, but that they’ve “a defect.” Moreover, she says: “They should stop showing off all the time. They’ve ruined that flag for me. I clearly preferred the rainbow before, but I don’t any extra.”

‘I need to deliver back colonialism’: Kjell Frode Tislevoll, forty-two, retail clerk, Norway

Kjell Frode Tislevoll used to spend hours debating online. “Like once I commented on a piece of writing: ‘What we want in Oslo is a sidewalk for people with darkish skin and a path for those with white skin. That way, we gained be attacked or mugged.” He got 20 likes. Eventually, he decided to apply a clear out on Facebook, so he’d now not see posts about immigration.

But matters are changing for Tislevoll. Last 12 months, a refugee reception centre become built in his home city, and he slowly discovered he turned into turning into “much less sceptical of immigrants���. It coincided with the appearance of a Muslim guy at paintings. “He’s Ok,” he says, “so my issues with immigration are going away. If I met my former self in a discussion board now, I’d probably get into an argument with him.”

Today marks 28 years considering that I submitted my original concept for the worldwide web.

web

I imagined the net as an open platform that would permit all and sundry, anywhere to share facts, get entry to opportunities, and collaborate throughout geographic and cultural obstacles. In many methods, the internet has lived as much as this imaginative and prescient, though it’s been an ordinary warfare to preserve it open. But during the last twelve months, I’ve come to be increasingly concerned about three new developments, which I consider we must tackle so as for the web to fulfil its authentic capability as a device that serves all of the humanity.

1) We’ve lost control of our non-public facts

The current enterprise version for plenty websites offers free content in trade for private events. Lots of us comply with this – albeit regularly by accepting long and perplexing terms and situations files – but we do no more extend thoughts a few statistics being gathered in alternate for free services. But, we’re missing a trick. As our data is then held in proprietary silos, out of sight to us, we lost out on the blessings we may want to understand if we had direct manipulated over this statistics and selected when and with whom to percentage it. What’s more, we regularly do not have any manner of feeding returned to companies what information we’d alternatively not proportion – specifically with 0.33 parties – the T&Cs are all or nothing.